sissyslave

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sissyslaveThis is a BDSM story – male on male, later male on sissy – with some forced feminisation. Sorry it takes so long to get to the fem part! Part two will represent the pay off.SissyslaveBy NancyBerlinMartin is, or rather, used to be, a totally straight looking guy, not so tall – 173cm – with asomewhat stocky build, but lean and lightly muscled from his years ofswimming. You could say he had something of a rugby player’sbuild. He was not so young – 47 – but he kept himself in good shape andalthough gay there was nothing effeminate about him. All in all he was in no way what could be considered a suitable candidate for being feminised.Nor did he ever fantasise about this. He was always happy inhis male body. If anything he resisted the slightest suggestion offemininity in his mind set. At university he had refused to go to a vicarsand tarts party because no way was he going to put on women’s clothes,even for a laugh. He knew with his body shape that he would look ridiculousand totally unconvincing. He was mocked for this – the idea was after allabout making everyone look ridiculous but he stubbornly refused, denouncing itas ‘stupid’. Some of his friends actually looked pretty good as women -but they tended to be slim in build.Martin’s fantasies, however, were of another kind altogether. He may have seemed a very conventional man but for all his outwardly straight appearance, heharboured some pretty strange fantasies – of being dominated, forced toserve a man and be his slave. And this is something he exploredincreasingly throughout his 20s. But in truth he was a pretty bad slave – hewas manipulative and controlling, albeit doing it from the bottom. Hefound myriad excuses and devices and strategies and plans to get his ownway so that the poor, so-called Master became his enabler, he facilitator.Most ended up dancing to his tune.Occasionally he would find a man who would make use of the fact that he wasbound and gagged to push him further than he wanted to go. He would alwaysbad mouth him afterwards and accuse him of having forced him into non-consensual acts – and then he would walk out and ‘blacklist’ the poor guy assomeone who had overstepped the mark. So he became more and more of a pushy, controlling bottom.But as he got older it became more and more difficult to find playpartners – older guys tend to shift to being dominant, more out ofnecessity than actual desire – but it does mean that they can get theirhands on willing young, attractive slave boys. Those Masters who did notmind older slaves tended to get annoyed with Martin’s tightly controlled limitsso that, one way and another, he was seeing much less action than in thepast.He toyed with the idea of becoming a Top himself -but it was simply not inhis nature and he had enjoyed so many years of getting his own way as’slave’ that he was unwilling to give it up. Of course he used the internet for wank relief, lying like mad and depicting himself as years younger than he actually was. And of course in the safety of cyberland, he couldbecome a slave to the extent that he had never been able to achieve inlife. Whips don’t hurt on the internet! Nor do brandings, piercings,nipple torture and all the other painful activities that were so muchpart of his fantasy life but so glaringly empty from his life experience.Then he met Tom online. Well he was different from the outset. He hadno time for all the trappings of cyber sex – exaggerated respect for theMaster, pitching into sex talk at the drop of a hat, or indeed anythingthat might titillate and excite. Instead he gently probed Martin as to hisexperience. And Martin found himself dropping his usual bragging of unexperiencedexperiences and, little by little, becoming more truthful. He wasdiscovering one of the dangers of the internet – that it can lead to afeeling of intimacy, encouraged by the fact that one is at home, typinginformation to a stranger that one has not met and that one, usually,never will meet. Nor was this a one-way ‘truth’ session as Tom was open toany questions Martin might have for him. Tom controlled the conversation,however, and chose when it ended, leaving Martin with a strange feeling ofexhilaration and frustration.In his mind he began to formulate the idea that this was the man who mightreally break through all his resistance and lead him to a kind of promisedland where his fantasies might be realised batman escort more fully than they had beenin the past -and yet without damaging him, physically or psychologically.He could barely wait for Tom to be online so that he could continue thechat. He wanted to know more about Tom because he sensed that here wassomeone intelligent, sophisticated, someone possibly worthy of therespect that he had always acted for men he privately considered idiots.And so it continued – Tom would come online most days, around seven in theevening, and they would chat for thirty minutes or so. Martin found himselfbecoming increasingly open with him and began to detail his fears, hishopes, his expectations. Then, finally, after some weeks of this, Tom askedhim if he would be willing to meet – in a public place, one to one,without fetish gear involved, just two guys getting together for a drinkor a coffee.Well, this had never happened to Martin before! If he did ever get to thestage of arranging a meeting it was always done within the confines of astrictly detailed scenario, involving the clothes he was to wear, the timeof arrival; there would be the open door, he would enter, stand in thehall and strip and put on whatever he had been detailed to wear or what hehad provided. In this way his first sight of the ‘Master’ had always been’in role’.On those occasions his heart would be beating wildly and his mind alreadyracing with plans to manipulate and find a way out of any situation hefound too dangerous. When he thought about it he realised that he had neverever fully trusted someone and that without that, all his efforts atfinding his slave nature were doomed. Now here he had an opportunity for aconsidered assessment.Of course they had exchanged photographs so he knew what Tom probably lookedlike – probably because there had been occasions when the photographswere those of the ‘Master’ taken some years ago. He had been guilty ofthat himself. Misrepresentation – often really just wishful thinking, thatone still looked like the best photos of five years ago – is anothercommon malpractice in internet connections! But during the period of theirchats Martin had become increasingly honest, slowly bringing his pictures up todate. Somehow he trusted that Tom had done the same.And he had. The man sitting opposite him in the quiet corner of anordinary bar was indeed the man he had seen in the photographs. Tall, inhis fifties and in reasonable shape, hair slightly thinning, going grey,there was no doubt that this was the man he had seen in the photos. Butwhat really impressed Martin was his manner – calm where Martin was nervous, andwith the quiet confidence of someone who was used to being in control.The most notable feature was his eyes, which were blue and penetrating.Immediately Martin knew that this man was dominant in a very natural way -there was nothing theatrical about the way he assumed control – ofordering drinks, of taking charge of the conversation.Martin talked too much, as a way of masking his nervousness though if anything it drew attention to that. Tom let him prattle on untilhe ran out of steam; then looking him in the eye he said, ‘You are afraidof giving up control – you want to hang on to it as a protection. And Ithink you are afraid of that because you are afraid of what you will finddeep down within yourself.’ Somehow Martin felt that this man could read him – that he would know when Martinwas being manipulative, when he wanted things to go his way and only to theextent he allowed. After that, Martin opened up more, talking of his fear ofpain, of releasing the wilder fantasies that were the usual accompanimentfor his masturbation sessions. And the upshot of this was that he agreed togo to him – for a weekend and not just a few hours – and soon.Yes, he was still nervous and afraid, more so than with other Mastersbecause he felt that this one could not be fooled, that all his ploys wouldprove useless with him. This made him vacillate in his decision to meethim. One day he couldn’t wait for the appointed day to come, another hewould spend time thinking of excuses to postpone. But deep down he knewthat he had been given a real opportunity to find out just where fantasyended for him and reality began.So he presented himself at Tom’s house as directed, on time to the second(though he had not insisted on this) and dressed in his usual escort batman casualclothes of jeans, t-shirt, trainers. He carried a small bag with basic toiletries – and that was all. Tom opened the door, also casually dressed and Martin, with his heart beating crazily, went in. The next hourwas spent putting him at his ease, getting him to relax. Martin knew Tom likedfetish gear – he had seen the pictures of him in leather and rubber and,if anything, he was disappointed that he was not wearing something alongthis line. But he remembered that Tom had told him that the gear for him wasan outer show of inner intentions; that he liked to dominate and controlwith or without fetish gear. Martin felt a little cheated all the same, thatthere were not these outer signs to help prepare him for what lay ahead.Then the time came to start. Martin removed his clothes, folded them neatly and put them to one side.Always looking deeply into his eyes, Tom fastened a leather collar aroundhis neck, attached a chain to it and led him out of the living room, downthe corridor and into a room that was bare of furniture but which hadvarious restraints and manacles attached to the walls and a number ofpulleys and metal bars hanging from the ceiling.He led him to the centre of the room, lowered a pulley and attached hiswrists to restraints hanging from a metal bar. Then he pulled it back upagain so that Martin’s arms were extended above his head; not uncomfortably so -he was still standing flat on the ground. Then Tom ‘inspected’ him, runninghis hands over his body, feeling the muscles. Martin’s cock was standing toattention but this he ignored while he felt the rest of him. Moving behind him, Tom continued his inspection, then placed a hand over his mouth andgently pulled his head back on to his shoulder. Ordinarily Martin would haveresisted at this point but he found himself folding back into him in awholly trusting way.’Good,’ Tom said and then left the room.Heart pumping, Martin waited for him to return. Minutes passed, and his armsbegan to ache a little. His mind kicked in with all sorts of sudden fears- was this the point at which Tom’s hitherto gentle manner would drop and Martinwould find himself at the mercy of a psychopath? He squirmed a little butnoticed also that his cock was still hard. But then he remembered thesecurity measures Tom had forced him to take before coming to him – phoninghim on his fixed line at a time of his choice to verify the number, hisname, address, and his photograph sealed in an envelope on his desk. Hehad asked Martin to give it to a friend with the instructions to open it andcontact the police if Martin had not returned home and phoned by midnight onSunday. Even Martin felt that this was going too far and he had not, in any case, wantedto take any of his friends into this confidence).These memories had the effect of calming him somewhat and then Tom enteredthe room, now dressed in a leather uniform – shirt, breeches, tall boots,Sam Browne belt – and appearing very much the masculine figure of so manyof Martin’s fantasies. He also carried a bag, which he placed on the floorbeside him. Unzipping it, he extracted a bit gag.’Open your mouth,’ he said, quietly. Martin did so and he placed it in hismouth and fastened it behind his head. Then a padded leather blindfold wasplaced around his eyes, comfortable but excluding all light. Martin tried toprotest a little, swaying back and forth in his restraints but Tom’s handcame up to steady him – ‘Easy, easy,’ he muttered. Martin felt his breath closeto him, steady and regular, and he calmed again.Now Tom’s mouth was at his ear and Martin heard him almost whisper into it, ‘Your real problem is your ego and until I strip you of that you will never bea slave. Isn’t that true?’ Martin thought about it for a few seconds, thenslowly nodded.’I am going to strip you of that, little by little, but you must relax.Anything I do to you for the present will hurt you in no way. I am notgoing to beat you or whip you. But I am going to change you, to transformyou. It is what you need, more than anything else. OK?’Again Martin nodded. He felt reassured, safe. Pain had always been a turn-offfor him. He relaxed.Now that he could not see, his hearing leapt to his defence. Suddenly it wassharper – his mind was still active, trying to imagine what lay ahead ofhim. He thought of chains being batman escort bayan locked on to him, of wearing leather orrubber, and again his cock rose higher. His other senses were heightened too. He seemed to feel Tom’s hands on him in a way he had not felt touch before. He sniffed the air to see if he couldanticipate what material he might feel against his body – but he recognisednothing. Tom had moved behind me and Martin felt something soft encircling hiswaist and upper body. He racked his brain as to what this could possibly be- and then he felt a tightening. He could hear the sound of something beingpulled tighter and tighter around him. He felt straps dangling from thebottom. And then it hit him – it was a corset! Tom was putting him in awoman’s corset. It was then Martin rebelled, waving back and forth on hisrestraints, even kicking out, struggling, resisting, trying to shout outbehind his gag. What he was saying was, ‘Stop this, you bastard! This isnot one of my fantasies. We never spoke about anything like this. Wenever discussed this. This is a complete turn-off for me,’ and more alongthose lines. But he need not have bothered. Tom could not hear a word hesaid, nor did he stop in the slightest. He just went on pulling andpulling the damned thing tighter. Next Martin felt his arms being pulledhigher in the air so that now he was on the tips of his toes. Thetightening resumed and he had to stop his inarticulate shouting as he beganto gasp for breath. His waist was being pulled in, in and Martin knew it wassmaller, much smaller though I could not see it. Finally Tom tied it offand Martin sensed him move away from him.He felt his face redden, not only from the tightness of the corset, butalso from the humiliation he felt. He was embarrassed. He was glad he couldnot see himself. But he did calm down. There was nothing he could do. Hetried to rationalise this – maybe it was not what he thought it was after all butsome kind of bondage device – it felt like that – and at the thought ofthat his cock rose again. He heard Tom chuckle – but he was soon to bedisabused of this notion.Next Martin felt him in front of him, pushing something on to his feet. Againnot leather or rubber, something softer than that – silk! A stocking! Awoman’s stocking. He felt it being pulled up his leg and then fastened tothe straps that dangled down. The same thing was repeated on the otherleg. Yet there was something so sensual about the feel of this on hislegs. Again his cock hardened further. His mind was in a whirl. He wasdefinitely being feminised and yet it was turning him on.Back at his feet again, Tom raised one foot and squeezed it into a shoe. AsMartin came to rest again he knew that it was a shoe with an impossibly highheel. He was no longer on tiptoe but resting on a high, spiked heel. Thesame happened to the other foot and then he felt his arms begin to dropuntil they were at his side. The relief from the strain was wonderful butagain rebellion reared its head as he tried to shake the shoes off and hishands felt for the laces on the corset; but they had been tied behind himand he could not get at them. Still he flailed about, trying to shed the shoes – but a strap had been buckled round his ankle and he could not shake them off.He started crying – he felt so humiliated and helpless – but his cock wasstill hard. And then he felt Tom removing the blindfold and he could seethat he was tightly bound into a black, satin corset, that his waist hadbeen reduced by at least three inches, that his legs were encased in blacksilk stockings and his feet felt crippled in the patent leather, blackspiked heel shoes. He tottered a little on these heels but managed toremain upright. And then Tom was in front of him holding a full-length mirror so that Martincould really see the changes he had effected. This was so recognisablyMartin Davison, but changed so much too. His physical form wastransformed – his waist looked impossibly narrow and the corset had theeffect of pushing his pectorals upwards so that they began to look likeburgeoning breasts. But his head and face were unchanged, his hair was inthe same masculine cut. More than anything else he felt bewildered. Whatstrange kink was this of his? Martin was angry and glared at him. He felt hehad been cheated.Tom looked at him, a slight smile playing on his lips.’Have you ever, in your deepest fantasies, seen yourself as a FrenchMaid?’ he asked. Martin shook his head vehemently, again trying to shout behind the gag. Tom laughed. At that moment Martin felt a sudden hatred for this man.And Tom had by no means finished ‘transforming’ him.

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