Being Barbi's Bitch

After ten wasted years of foolishly trusting in love to `cure' me of my
femininity, I had only just begun to re-embrace the sissy inside me when
something made me reach out to an old friend. What made me do it, I really
don't know. Although I was once again revelling in even the smallest
aspects of my femininity, treasuring and celebrating them in a way that
only someone who has truly missed them can appreciate, I had made a
conscious decision not to reach out to old friends.

It's not that I didn't miss them -- I did miss them, and terribly --
but I was afraid that they wouldn't welcome the contact. Having been away
so long, and having left the community so abruptly, I was afraid they would
be angry with me for abandoning them.

I know I was angry with myself.

For some reason, though, something compelled me to reach out to Barbi. Not
only was she one of my oldest and dearest friends, but she was always an
erotic inspiration to me. No matter how life would bring me down, or how
unfeminine I might be feeling, she was always there as an example of what
all sissies and shemales might aspire to. She was my shemale goddess of
transformation.

As delighted as I was to discover that her Fetish Shemale site was still
around, I noticed right away that it hadn't been updated for a while. I
didn't really give the fact that much thought at the time, but anxiously
clicked on the email link, just to say hello.

To be honest, I was very much afraid that she wouldn't remember me.

Much to my delight, she not only responded that same night, but she did
remember me. We got to chatting, and she soon revealed to me that she had
taken a bit of a break from her career, for personal reasons, and was
planning to retire altogether.

That news left me heartbroken -- for my goddess, for her fans, and for my
own missed opportunities. Years ago, we had made plans to get together for
some fun and maybe even a photo shoot, but something always happened to get
in the way. We never did get our chance to meet up, and now that I had
rediscovered her, I realised that chance would never come again.

I knew, right then and there, that somehow I would make good on those
missed opportunities. If Barbi Satin was going to retire, then I was going
to find some way to ensure that she ended her career with a bang.

Literally.

*******

As it turned out, it was nearly six months later before I got my chance. My
ex and I had just finalized our divorce and, on a whim, I decided to buy a
scratch ticket to celebrate. Imagine my surprise when I won! It wasn't
anything life-changing, but it was more than enough money to treat myself
to a nice break, far away from the ex, the mother-in-law, and the rest of
their wretched family.

I knew, instantly, what I had to do. It scared the hell out of me, but the
very idea of it gave me such a thrill that I knew it was the right thing to
do.

Barbi and I were still chatting on a semi-regular basis, and I had an open
invitation to stop by any time I was in Pennsylvania. There were no
commitments or expectations, just an invitation from one friend to
another. Finally, after all this time, I planned to not only take her up on
the offer, but to offer her the chance to take full advantage of the
situation.

As much as I wanted to be with her, just once; as much as I desired the
touch, the taste, the feel of my shemale goddess; as much as I need to
place myself at her feet and have her validate my femininity; I was doing
this, first and foremost, for her. If it hadn't been for the fact that she
was retiring, and I wanted to say `thanks' in the only way I could, I never
would have thought to impose.

Less than a week later, I found myself deep in the heart of
Pennsylvania. Even with the GPS I somehow managed to get lost, but I
eventually found myself parked in front of Barbi's quaint little home just
as the sun was going down.

My heart was racing. My throat was dry. My hands were shaking as I stepped
up to the door and knocked. I was actually taken aback for a moment when
she answered the door dressed like your average, ordinary housewife --
assuming, of course, that your average, ordinary housewife came equipped
with a 42 DD chest, 27 inch waist, 38 inch hips, and the bulge of an 8 inch
cock in her panties.

"Yes?" she asked.

I was trembling so hard, it took me six tries before I could get a single
word out. Instead of the practiced, rehearsed, perfect speech I had
prepared on the drive down, I dropped my jaw and uttered a single, "Wow."

She looked at me strangely for a moment. Forewarned by her past experiences
dealing with Customs & Immigration, I'd had to be careful about how I
presented myself when crossing the border. I had fully intended to stop
somewhere on the US side to make myself properly presentable, but I was
just too excited to waste a single moment.

As a result, I was looking very androgynous in a pair of women's sneakers
(white with a few subtle pink accents), unisex shorts (black), and a
woman's t-shirt (white). Even without makeup, padding, a wig, or jewellery
to give me away, a woman would have noticed the fit of the
clothes. Fortunately, the college-aged kid who checked my passport never
looked twice.

"Heathyr?" Her eyes lit up in recognition. She reached out and crushed me
to her chest. It felt so good, after all this time. "What the hell is your
problem, girl? Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

I smiled and returned the embrace. Her body felt incredible against me, so
perfectly shaped in absolutely every aspect. "I wanted it to be a
surprise."

"Well, it certainly is that." She stepped back, giving me another look at
her. Even though I had never seen her in anything other than leather and
latex, she looked just as stunning in a t-shirt and jeans. Her body still
had the kind of curves that any woman would die for, and her face was still
sexy as hell, even without makeup. Of course, it was that telltale bulge
between her legs that nudged her from gorgeous to absolute perfection.

She ushered me inside, but I paused on the doorstep. If I was going to do
this, I had to do it right. I'd practiced this a hundred times on the drive
down but, unlike my greeting, this was something I couldn't afford to
blow. I had to do it, and I had to do it right, even if all she did was
laugh me off.

"Well?" she asked. "Are you coming in, or what?"

I dropped to my knees on her front porch, where any passing motorist or
nosy neighbour could see -- as few, and as distant as they might be --
and leaned over to kiss the toes of her right foot. "Your humble slave
hereby presents herself for your pleasure and amusement." Up until that
point, I had been consumed by worry that she might reject me, but there was
no longer any doubt in my mind as I continued kissing her toes. "I know
you're planning to retire, Goddess, so I am offering myself, as unworthy as
I am, as your retirement present."

For the longest time, she just stared at me. What might have been running
through her head, I have no idea. All I could do was continue worshipping
her feet.

"Your sissy slave comes all expenses paid," I explained. "Whatever you
might desire this week, please consider it part of my humble gift to you."

"You do understand what you're saying, don't you?" She shoved her foot into
my mouth and watched as I sucked her big toe like a tiny little cock. "If
you are serious about doing this, then you will be my bitch." She began
thrusting her foot in and out, fucking my mouth with her toe. "You will
obey my every command, without question, and you will do it all knowing
that the entire world will be watching." She pulled her foot from my mouth
and took another step forward. "Do you wish to be my bitch?"

"I do." I kissed the calf to my left. "Make me your bitch." I kissed the
calf to my right. "I want to be Barbi's bitch."

She chuckled softly. "Oh, you fucking little slut . . . you shall."

*******

It was a long drive into the city, and Barbi wasn't one for idle
conversation. So, to fill the silence, she asked me questions and let me
embarrass myself with the answers. When I started telling her about the
sheriff who followed me through about 15 miles of empty roads, and my
fantasy of having to suck his cock to get out of a ticket, she actually
reached over and gave my sissy clit a squeeze.

"Don't fret," she laughed, "there's always the drive home."

That seemed to break the ice a bit. The rest of the drive was a bit more
casual, although Barbi still didn't give much away about herself. She was
very, very good and controlling a conversation to the point where you had
no idea just how well she had manipulated you until much later. Of course,
as I hoped to explore for myself soon, I knew that conversations were not
the only thing she was good at controlling.

A half hour later we found ourselves entering the city. Using my credit
card, she had already made reservations for the honeymoon suite in one of
the swankiest hotels for a hundred miles around. With her generous offer to
have me pay for the privilege, they were more than happy to hold it for a
late check-in.

"Turn here, bitch, and pull over behind that dumpster."

I had no idea where we were, but it looked sketchy. It looked like one of
those dirty, dimly lit alleys you see on a CSI or Law & Order type show
where some innocent civilian stumbles across a grossly disfigured body. It
actually scared me to be there. Hopefully, whatever she had in mind
wouldn't take long, or I was virtually certain we'd come back to the car to
find it on blocks, with no doors, no seats, no stereo, and a body dumped in
the back.

She popped the hatchback, took out my suitcase, and dumped my clothes in
the ground. With no comment other than, "Come," she led me deeper into the
alley. It was a good thing neither of us had slipped into heels yet, as we
had to carefully navigate two trash-strewn, rickety flights of a well-used
fire escape. "Let's hope they haven't changed the locks," she told me, "or
you're going to be squeezing through a window."

As Barbi worked at it, she explained to me that the key was a quick copy
she'd made several years ago, just in case she ever had the opportunity to
use it again. One of her stripper friend of hers had used the original to
let her in after hours for a video shoot back in the heydays of her site. I
was pretty sure I knew which video she was talking about, and I was looking
forward to seeing where it was filmed.

The door opened into a noisy, dimly lit, somewhat sour-smelling slice of
heaven. There were dresses, gowns, skirts, corsets, stockings, bras,
panties, peignoirs, and babydolls everywhere you looked. Lace hung next to
leather, which hung next to PVC, which hung next to satin, which lay draped
over a mess of cotton and rubber. Barbi could have locked us in that room
for the week, and I would have been in heaven.

While I gazed around in wonder, Barbi had me hold open the empty suitcase
as she began rifling though the collection of stripper's outfits hanging
along the wall to her right. I wasn't sure what she was looking for, but
she seemed to pull out every fourth or fifth piece and toss it my way.

As much as in awe of the potential for beauty around me, I was extremely
uncomfortable with the idea of stealing, especially from our sisters in
sex. As much as I tried to hide it -- I had, after all, promised to obey
my Goddess' every command -- she must have noticed my hesitation. I was
nervously glancing back over my shoulder, in case somebody should come in
the same way we did, when I felt her slap me across the face.

Startled, I turned around to see the loosely-held red velvet glove make a
return slap across my other cheek. It smelled like cum and, judging by the
wet smack, it was likely still fresh.

"Stop being such a stupid bitch," she snarled, "These are the stripper's
castoffs -- they won't be needed again tonight." She tossed the glove
into the suitcase, along with its partner. "And since club is closed on
Tuesdays, you will have two whole days to send them down to the hotel
laundry to be cleaned once we're done with them."

Perversely, that really did make me feel better. I knew I should have been
humiliated by the idea of asking the hotel to wash so much dirty, kinky
laundry for me -- especially since she'd booked us in under the male name
on my credit card -- but I was actually looking forward to it.

"Okay, that's it for here." Barbi had me zip up the suitcase before we
hurried back down to the car. "Now, I need you to watch out for an ATM so
we can withdraw a few cash advances off of your MasterCard." She watched me
for a reaction, but I was already fully committed to the expense of being
her present. "Trust me," she whispered, "you really don't want a paper
trail leading back to your male masquerade from some of the people we'll be
doing business with his week."

I swallowed loudly. "Thank you."

"After that, we need to make two more quick stops, and then you can start
earning your place as my bitch."

*******

Once we arrived at the hotel, Barbi handed me her bag of purchases from the
drug store and herded me into a bathroom that was larger than my bedroom
back home. "Start with the enema first. Once you're clean, get your ass in
the shower and shave."

"Yes, Goddess." I was trembling in anticipation. "Do you want me to shave
my sissy clit as well?"

She shook her head. With a mischievous smile, she told me, "Listen, you
silly cunt, when I tell you to shave, I intend for you to shave." She
backed me into the bathroom until I nearly fell into the two-person
tub. "If you come out of there with so much as a single hair anywhere below
the top of your head, I will be very disappointed."

I nodded meekly, even as I fingered my eyebrows. How the hell would I
explain them at work next week? I had no problem shaving the rest of me
-- I'd done it enough times before, but the eyebrows scared me. At the
same time, I was excited by the thought of just how much properly
penciled-in eyebrows would transform me.

"While you're getting yourself ready, I need to make some long-distance
calls." She pulled the door shut on her way out.

I immediately stripped naked. I ripped open the box and began fumbling with
the enema kit. I'd never used one before but, like any good submissive
slut, I knew how to follow directions. The kit came with a small bottle of
lube, so I applied a generous amount to both my ass and the end of the
plastic tubing. I filled the bag with warm water from the tap, added the
`cleansing' ingredient, and managed to hang everything from the showerhead
using a wire dry-cleaning hanger behind the bathroom door.

If inserting the nozzle was uncomfortable, starting the enema itself was
absolute misery. It took every ounce of my sissy submission to keep the
solution inside myself for the prescribed twenty minutes. Of course, having
to lie on my side in the cold tub probably didn't make it any easier.

While I laid there, I could hear Barbi talking on the phone, although I
couldn't make out what she was saying or who she was talking to. The door
to our suite opened and closed a half dozen times, but I too distracted to
notice whether it was Barbi coming and going, or somebody else.

When it was time to release, I hobbled over the toilet and silently sang
out with relief as it all came pouring out. Too squeamish to look, I
blindly flushed the toilet, and then hopped into the tub.

Barbi had bought me a bottle of lavender scented shaving cream and a
twelve-pack of women's razors. I was determine to make the absolute best
impression that I could, so I used one razor on each leg, another on my
arms and chest, one on my eyebrows, and another on my pubes. The experience
was actually very relaxing, and certainly helped to put me in a feminine
frame of mind. By the time I was ready to shower away the residue, I could
feel my fingers skimming and slipping across my soapy, naked, hairless
body.

When I exited the bathroom, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed
in the black PVC minidress, full-length gloves, and knee-high boots I
remembered so well from her photos. I could see the band of her black silk
stockings protruding from the tops of her boots, along with the black lace
ribbons running up her glorious legs to the garter hidden beneath her
dress. The dress itself was cut very low, putting her incredible breasts on
display.

My outfit, it turned out, was to be the precise opposite of hers. Where she
wore black, I wore white. Where she wore PVC, I wore satin. Where she wore
lace, I wore cotton. Where she wore a tight dress and little more, I was
bound into a corset beneath mine. Where her breasts and cock featured
prominently beneath her body-hugging outfit, mine were flattened and hidden
beneath my own ensemble.

By the time I was done dressing to her satisfaction, I looked like an
incredibly slutty angel just fallen from heaven, cast out for only god
knows what kind of sins against nature.

Barbi sat me down before the dressing table and began doing my makeup. I,
of course, couldn't see what she was doing, but it felt like she was using
a lot. Eyeliner, eye shadow, foundation, blush, lipstick, lip liner,
powder, and a few other cosmetics I couldn't see well enough to identify
were expertly painted across my eager visage. Before she would let me see,
however, she placed a long, blonde wig on my head and used what smelt like
glue to hold it in place.

She stepped back to take in the whole picture, but shook her
head. "Something's not quite right." I wanted to look for myself but, even
without being told, I knew better than to ruin her moment.

Suddenly, her entire face lit up with a smile. She opened the top drawer of
the dressing table and withdrew some pink lace ribbons. She then proceeded
to put my hair into pigtails, using the ribbons to tie off each tail. With
that done, she paced a pink bow into my hair.

"Nope. Too much." She quickly took the ribbon away and tossed it back in
the drawer. "Close your eyes."

I immediately did as I was told. I felt Barbi pull me to my feet and lead
me into the room's walk-in closet. That, in itself, was a sissy's dream.

"You may open your eyes."

What I saw in the mirror was so startling, so unexpected, I had to look
back over my shoulder three times to convince myself it really was a
mirror, and that there was nobody else standing with us. The innocent,
white, virginal slut in the mirror was . . . me. She -- or, rather, I
-- was absolutely stunning. I couldn't pick out a single thing that did
it, but Barbi had truly created something new with me. That single glimpse
in the mirror was so amazing, the memory of that transformation would be
worth whatever this whole adventure ended up costing me.

"Thank you, Goddess." I twirled in front the mirror and posed like a girl
getting ready for her prom. "I never knew I could look like this."

"There's still something missing. Hold still." I heard her rummaging around
in another drawer, and then watched her return in the mirror. She was the
very epitome of shemale lust, a walking, talking, breathing example of the
kind of perfection that was only possible with a little nudge to our
natures.

"Bend over, bitch."

While bent over, I watched her draw a big pink heart on the small of my
back with a glitter pen. She coloured in the heart, and then switched to a
black Sharpie marker. With that, she wrote `sissy slut' in very elegant,
feminine lettering inside the heart.

"There. That's better." Barbi led me back into the main room of our suite,
where she helped me into a pair of impossibly high heels. As white as the
rest of my outfit, they were dull, brushed leather, designed to blend with
my overall look. The heels on them were four inch stilettos -- far more
daring than anything I'd ever tried on before.

"Get walking," she told me. "You have precisely ten minutes to practice
before I send you on a little errand."

Errand? I froze in mid-step. She as going to send me out like this?

She laughed cruelly. "You're wasting valuable time, my slut." She made a
show of checking the clock on the bedside table. "You now have nine minutes
left to practice."

I don't know whether it was the pressure that did it, or whether I was just
a natural, but I was walking quite confidently -- if not comfortably --
by the end of the ten minutes. I still felt like I was going to topple at
any moment, but I did like the way the heels forced me to take smaller,
mincing steps, wiggling my ass in the process.

`Very good." She handed me my credit card. "Now, take yourself down to the
bar and ask for a bottle of their finest red wine, and another of their
finest white. They'll probably offer to charge it to your room, but I want
you to use the credit card."

I started to protest, but she grabbed my cheeks and forced my mouth shut.

"I want you to use your credit card," she whispered, "and sign the name of
your male masquerade. Understand?"

With a quick nod, I grabbed the credit card and wobbled out the door.

Much to my delight, I was so completely passable as Heathyr, the bartender
refused to accept my card. When he handed it back, he let his hand gently
slide along mine, sending an electric thrill up my arm. He chatted me up
and flirted with me while his partner retrieved the bottles, telling me it
was a shame my `boyfriend' was too much of a jerk to come down himself. He
then took my hand once more and kissed it before I left.

On impulse, before my senses could get the better of me, I leaned across
the bar and planted a quick kiss on his lips before sauntering back to our
room.

*******

Barbi, of course, expected no less -- although she was a little shocked
that I'd had the nerve to steal that kiss. "Here I thought you'd need a
little booze to relax you, but apparently releasing your inner sissy slut
did that all on its own."

I was just about to say something completely inane when somebody else
stepped in from the lounge portion of the suite. He was a scrawny looking
boy, all sharp angles and protruding bones, with short black hair and a
small patch of stubble on his chin. His mouth was set in what looked to be
a perpetual scowl, judging by the frown lines on either side, and he didn't
seem the least bit interested to be there.

Before Barbi could introduce us, he came over and held up a series of
plastic cards against first my face, then my dress. "Let's clear up the
situation right now," he said in a scratchy voice. "My name is Alan. I'm an
FTM transsexual lesbian, and I'm only here because Barbi pays well for my
services." He grabbed my face and turned it to the left, and then to the
right, looking for my best side. "I have no interest in you, in her, or in
whatever it is you're planning to do together."

"Oh, lighten up, Al." Barbi laid herself down on the couch and lit up a
cigarette.

He ignored her completely. "While I'm sure Barbi won't be able to resist
offering her suggestions, I am the photographer, and this is my shoot. You
will do as I say, and nothing else." He spun me around, measured my frame
with his hands, and then pushed me away. "Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

The photographer almost smiled. "You're off to a good start."

While Alan set up, Barbi instructed me to pour the wine -- red for the
two of them, white for myself. There were more lights, screens, flashes,
and mirrors involved than I had ever imagined. Our room certainly looked
like a professional photographer's studio by the time he was done. I
imagined it must have cost a pretty penny for all that equipment, not to
mention his time, but I found I didn't mind one bit.

For the next hour, they made me pose for a series of photos. Alan moved me
around the room, put me into awkward positions, chastised me for being too
rigid, and ridiculed me for being so loose. He made me hold poses for what
seemed an eternity as he captured my sissy curves from every angle, or
adjusted the lighting to be just right. The whole time, he kept reminding
me to keep my eyes wide and innocent, even as the rest of me screamed the
news of my sexual awakening.

Modelling was far more work than I ever guessed, only increasing my already
immense respect for my Goddess. She'd been doing shoots like this for over
fifteen years, and in far less forgiving surroundings than we found
ourselves in.

At the end of the hour, Barbi got up off the couch and disappeared into the
walk-in closet for a moment. When she came back out, she had a black
bullwhip in her hands and a pair of handcuffs. She approached the bed with
slow, deliberate, oh-so-sexy steps, her shapely legs almost hypnotizing me
with their gait.

"Beg for it, bitch."

Although self-conscious, at first, I soon got forgot about Alan and got
right into proper sissy begging. "Please, Goddess, use your sissy. Tie me
up, whip me, make me service your every desire." She continued to stand
beside the bed. "I need you, Goddess. I need to be your bitch. I need to
serve you, to love you, to lick and suck and caress every in of your
perfect form."

"How would you serve me?"

"Any way you please, Goddess. My mouth is yours to fuck. My throat is yours
to fuck. My sissy belly lives only to consume your magnificent cum."

She handcuffed my right hand to the bed.

"My sissy cunt is yours to fuck. My anal virginity is yours to claim. I
have cleaned myself for you Goddess, so that you can shove that magnificent
cock deep inside me and fuck me raw, fuck me into oblivion, fuck me until
you've shot your cum so deep inside me, it will never come out."

She handcuffed my left hand to the bed. The whole time, our photographer
kept snapping away.

As Barbi hovered over me, I stared right into the valley between her
breasts. The spiderwebbed heart tattoo on her left breast was larger than
life, almost demanding that I lick it off. "Oh, please, Goddess, use me for
your pleasure. I am nothing but a useless sex toy, an elaborate doll with
which to fulfill your desires before tossing me away like another piece of
worthless trash."

She began caressing me with the whip. "Would you let me hurt you?"

I hesitated, but only briefly. I loved bondage, but was terrified of
pain. I was a sissy in every sense of the word, but I was fully committed
to this. "Yes, Goddess." I swallowed my fear and let the sincerity shine
through my eyes. "If it pleases you, Goddess, I will take the pain you
offer and accept is as the utmost pleasure, because it came from you."

SNAP! The bullwhip extended halfway across the room with one flick of her
wrist. It sounded painful, and all it had bitten was air. Barbi began
gently slapping it across my body in a big `X', coming in from the left,
and then the right, and then the left again. Each kiss of the whip was a
little harder, until I was flinching as much from the expectation of pain
as the pain itself.

Alan came closer and zoomed in on the pink welts appearing across my
skin. I could tell that was turning him on.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

"Hmm, a little early." Barbi quickly flipped the whip around and shoved the
handle in my mouth. "Suck it," she commanded, "while I see to the door."

Unable to grasp the whip with my hands, which were still handcuffed to the
bed, I sucked the handle of the whip, tasting her sweat in the well-used
leather.

"Is this the bitch?"

I opened my eyes to find a huge, hulking, tattooed biker standing next to
the bed. He was easily six-foot-two, nearly three hundred pounds, and
looked like he could pick me up with one hand. At first glance, he looked
dirty, like somebody who would have been hanging around the alley where we
`borrowed' the stripper's outfits, but a closer look proved it was part of
a carefully crafted image.

Beneath it all, he was actually extremely clean and very-well groomed.

Barbi climbed up onto the bed, crossed her legs, and settled down between
my legs. "I need you to prove yourself to me, Heathyr." She reached up and
began stroking my cock beneath the layers of white. "I have a bit of a
fetish for pierced nipples, and I want to be the first to enjoy yours."

My eyes must have betrayed my terror, because she quickly set to work
calming me down. "It's not as bad as you think," she promised. My limp
sissy cock slipped free of its cotton panty prison and began growing in her
hand. "Between the wine, the cream, the ice, and the . . . distraction -"
she gave my cock a few hard strokes to emphasize, "- you'll barely feel a
thing." With my cock still in her hand, she leaned forward and kissed
me. It was a long, deep, hard kiss, full of love bites and lots of
tongue. "You did say you were my present," she reminded me, "and this is
what I want."

What could I say to that? "Please pierce me, Goddess." Much to my surprise,
I found that I meant it. "Put your mark on your bitch's breasts and make
them yours." The very idea of it had me harder than I had ever been in my
life. "I want to be your fetish."

"Can we begin, already?" The biker was standing beside the bed with some
frightening looking instruments in his hand.

"I'll be in the lounge. I don't need to see this." Alan walked away and
closed the adjoining door behind him.

"Are we ready, Heathyr?"

I nodded, too afraid to speak.

Now sitting on the far side of the bed, opposite our guest, Barbi continued
slowly stroking my cock, holding off every time she felt my balls begin to
swell, as the biker set to work. At first, I couldn't help but watch as
removed my top, washed my shaved chest with disinfectant, and then began
squeezing and pinching my nipples to make them hard.

"Drink up, Heathyr, and watch only me." As the white wine filled my mouth,
I stared up into Barbi's eyes and found something there I had never
expected. It was party sympathy, part gratitude, and part . . . well, not
quite love, but affection. It told me how much she appreciated this, and
that was probably the most potent pain-killer of all.

"Nggghhhh!" I nearly choked on the wine as the first piercing shot through
my nipple. "Aaaahhhaaiiee!" Sweat broke out over every inch of my body as
the second piercing stabbed through.

Barbi stopped stroking my cock. She leaned over, kissed the sweat from my
forehead, and smiled. "Absolutely beautiful - thank you."

I looked down and found a small gold hoop through each nipple. Careful not
to move them too much, Barbi lifted then to show me the tiny pink heart
decorating each ring.

"Magnificent work, as always, Carl." Barbi rolled off the bed and walked
around to the biker's side. "Will the usual do?"

He laughed. It was a deep manly laugh, the kind that struck terror into a
sissy's heart, even as it set that heart to fluttering. "You know it,
babe."

With that, Barbi dropped to her knees, unzipped his jeans, and took his
cock into her mouth. It was already hard -- I could tell he enjoyed his
work -- and it took her less than a minute to get make him cum in her
mouth. Entranced, I watched every moment of it, wishing that I was down
there with her, paying my fair share. When he came, I saw her cheeks bulge
with the volume of sperm, and drooled over the thin, white trails running
down either side of her mouth.

When she turned to the bed, I saw the glint in her eyes and hoped
desperately that she was going to do it. She sauntered over to the bed,
visibly swishing and gargling the cum inside her mouth. She leaned over me,
pulled her hair back, and let a long string of white begin to stretch from
between her dark red lips to mine. I could smell it, almost taste it, and
opened my mouth wide to accept it.

To my dismay, she slurped the string of sperm back into her mouth and
swallowed it all with a lip-smacking grin of contentment. "Sorry to get
your hopes up, bitch, but the only cum you're tasting tonight is your own."
She wiped the stray cum from her chin and licked the finger clean. "And
mine, of course, should you prove yourself to be worthy of the honour."

*******

Between the pain, the wine, and the stress of it all, I must have dozed off
for a while. Next thing I knew, I was standing in the shower with a naked
Barbi standing before me. She was gently washing my nipples under the hot
spray. It still hurt -- a lot -- but it was the kind of pain you could
almost get used to. Then, of course, you moved and it exploded fresh and
fiery inside your chest.

After the shower, we dried each other off, and she applied more cream to my
nipples. It helped to numb the pain a bit, although it made me want to keep
touching them to confirm they were still there. Barbi batted my hands away
twice before I managed to control myself, warning me that I'd get an
infection if I didn't leave them alone.

By this point, Alan had returned and was taking photos again. He circled
around us, shooting up and down, close-up and from afar, as we
dressed. Barbi slipped back into the black PVC dominatrix outfit that was
her trademark, while she dolled me up as a slutty Catholic school girl. The
blouse was too small. It showed off the tender, swollen mounds of my
pierced sissy breasts, and revealed a good inch of naked belly at the
bottom. The skirt was too tight and too short, revealing a glimpse of my
bulging panties to any who cared to look.

Barbi pulled fishnet stockings up my legs, intentionally tearing them in
spots as she did so. The only thing she allowed to be perfect was the seam
running up the back of each leg. My shoes were small little black numbers,
scuffed and worn, with six-inch heels that made it hard for me to stand.

As for my makeup, it felt slathered on, far more heavy and bold than my
earlier look. Whereas she had sent a virginal shemale slut down to the wine
earlier, it was a whorish sissy slut she'd be calling up for whatever she
had in mind now.

This photo shoot was much like the first -- another hour of dancing and
prancing around to Alan's rapid commands, stretching and contorting my body
into positions never before imagined. Barbi sat on the couch, enjoying her
wine and cigarettes, speaking up only to ensure that Alan emphasized my
flat chest and swollen cock with the photos.

I was still somewhat weak from the pain (no doubt buzzed from the wine),
but I loved every moment of it. For some reason, the brazenness of my
outfit turned me on far more than the perfection of my earlier look, making
me want to fall to me knees and cry out for Barbi to use me. By the time we
were done, I was so horny that pre-cum was literally running down my
stockings.

The photo shoot ended with me lying on the floor, looking up at Barbi's
black panty-clad cock, while I sucked her heel and licked the sole of her
boot. "So, what do you think," she asked me. "Is my slut ready to become my
bitch?"

I knew better than to stop sucking, so I just nodded frantically.

Barbi pulled her heel from my mouth, stepped across the room, and laid
herself down on the bed. "If you don't mind, Al, I'd like you to stay for
this. I know you have your limits as to what you'll photograph, but if
Heathyr's deflowering is to be my retirement present, then I'd really like
a record of it to enjoy."

Much to my surprise -- and Barbi's, judging by the look on her face --
Alan actually smiled. "I'd like to see where this goes. You've always been
a great client," he told Barbi, "and I've grown rather fond of your little
sissy here." Alan came over and nuzzled my cheek with his stubbly chin. "If
you ever decide to get rid of that piece of meat between your legs and
become a real woman, look me up."

With that, he turned away and began not only setting up his photographic
equipment, but checking and adjusting Barbi's video recording equipment as
well. I'd completely forgotten about the video camera until that
moment. Were we live? Was I being used and abused for the titillation of an
invisible audience? I was surprised to find that the idea really didn't
bother me. In fact, it turned me on. As shy as I normally was, Barbi's
bitch apparently was a brazen little slut.

Barbi ordered me to pour drinks for Alan and herself, although the
photographer had barely touched his last glass. With wine glass in hand,
Barbi stretched out on the bed and commanded, "Lick me, slut, from head to
toe and back again." She pointed a gloved finger my way. "Allow your sissy
tongue to so much as touch my breasts or my cock, and I'll throw you out on
the street, dressed as you are, and this will all be over."

The street wasn't so much a threat, but the idea of having come so far only
to fail was devastating. Not that I needed a threat to obey my Goddess, but
a little extra motivation never hurt anybody.

I started with her left foot, the one I'd been sucking on the
floor. Carefully lifting it in my hands, I sucked her heel deep into my
mouth, then bathed the sole of her boot in kisses before licking those
kisses away. Next, I licked my way up one side of her boot, bringing my
face so close to the temple of her sex that I could smell it, and down the
other. I then licked my way up the front of the boot, tracing the
criss-crossed laces with my tongue.

With the taste of well-oiled leather still in my mouth, I let my tongue
travel up the strap of her garter, and then lovingly licked and kissed the
scant few inches of naked flesh between the top of her stocking and the hem
of her dress. Performing my act of oral worship on her dress proved to be
the most difficult step of the process. I crossed back and forth across the
front of it, leaving stripes of sissy saliva behind, until I reached the
top edge of her wide, black, PVC belt.

I literally had to force myself to stop, because I was so naturally drawn
to the magnificence of her breasts. I wanted to bathe them in kisses,
plunge my tongue into the deep valley between her mounds, and suck on her
giant brown nipples until I could no longer breathe.

Instead, I turned my head aside and licked my way up the side of her dress,
making sure to stay well below the swell of her breasts. Once I reached her
shoulder, I took her arm in my hands and kissed my way across the naked
flesh of her upper arm, and then across the leather of her gloves. She
allowed me to take each finger into my mouth, one by one, and suck them
like five little cocks. I then kissed my way back up to her shoulder.

There, I paused, not sure what to do next. Barbi solved that dilemma for
me. "Kiss me, bitch, and let me taste that tongue."

We kissed for a good twenty minutes, sucking each other's tongues, biting
each other's lips, and generally just mashing our faces together. She
tasted of wine, cum, and cigarettes, but it was the sweet taste of ambrosia
to me. When she finally broke off the kiss, I kissed the rest of her face,
careful not to disturb her makeup, and buried my face in the overflowing
blonde tresses atop her head.

Naturally, I then kissed and licked and sucked my way back down the other
side of her body, doing everything I had the first time, but in reverse.

"Oh, fuck the cock thing." Alan was laying on the bed beside me, taking
close-ups of my face against Barbi's flesh. "Keep it in your skirt, and you
can lick me any day."

Barbi just laughed. "Nice sentiment, but she's my sissy slut." She turned
her attention to me. "You've show remarkable passion and patience." She
downed the rest of her wine and handed me the glass. "Bring me a glass of
white this time."

When I returned with the glass, she snatched it from my hand, then grabbed
me and pulled me onto the bed. "Put your head between my breasts and get
ready to clean me with that talented tongue of yours."

The moment I laid my head between her breasts, Barbi began pouring white
wine down the cleft between her mounds. I lapped it up as quickly as it
fell, tasting the distinctive tang of her sweat mixed with the sweetness of
the wine. Even when she stopped, I kept kissing and licking, luxuriating in
the sensual overload. Next, she freed one breast from her top and began
pouring wine over it. The moment my lips touched her nipples, and began
suckling wine from her tits, I felt a tiny spurt of sissy cum flood my
panties.

It was that intense.

We continued that like that until long after the glass was empty, with me
searching out every inch of flesh to make sure that I had properly
worshiped it with my mouth.

"Another glass, slut." She physically threw me from the bed. "This time,
make it red, and make sure the glass is full to the very top." As I began
hobbling over the bar, she added, "Oh, and I'm sure I don't need to tell
you not to spill a drop."

Despite her reminder, I very nearly lost the entire glass when I turned
around. She had freed her magnificent cock from its panty prison, and was
slowly stroking it with her hand.

Unable to concentrate on what I was doing, I nearly tripped three times in
my heels, but somehow made it back to the bed with a full glass of
wine. She gently pressed the top of my head as I handed her the
glass. "Down," was all she had to say.

I scrambled down the bed faster than I had moved all night and pressed my
mouth against her hairless balls. Looking up at her from there, seeing her
beautiful face framed by those incredible breasts, with her hard cock
diving the vision in two, I knew what pure and absolute surrender was. I
had said it before, and meant it at the time, but now I knew that I was not
becoming Barbi's bitch . . . I already was her bitch.

I watched, spellbound, as she brought the glass of red wine into my line of
sight. The moment the first drop of crimson hit her cock, I darted forward
and kissed it off. "Hmm, I liked that," Barbi moaned. We repeated the
drop-kiss again, before she told me, "Back off for a moment and let the
wine flow."

It seemed like an eternity of waiting, but she stopped with half a glass
remaining and commanded me to lick her cock clean. She didn't need to tell
me twice. I started at the base of her cock, licking and sucking at the
tight, smooth flesh. Next, I licked my way up her shaft -- and, with
eight erect inches, that was a lot of licking -- loving every minute of
it. When I reached the top, I pressed my lips against her soft, spongy head
and sucked as hard as I could. Still sucking, I forced my head down, taking
inch after inch of Barbi's cock into mouth.

I was nothing like I had ever imagined. It was so much better. Just the
feel of that hard cock filling my mouth, with the texture of the flesh that
was hers and hers alone was absolute heaven. It was my first real cock --
experimenting with the semi-flaccid clits of a few sissy friends certainly
didn't count -- and I knew in that moment it would not be my last.

My mouth made love to her cock long after the wine was gone, taking it
deep, and worshiping it all. When Barbi pulled my face away, I almost
wanted to cry at having being so cruelly denied. This time, as she poured
the rest of the wine over her cock, she told me, "Get ready, bitch, because
this time you're going to earn it."

Once again, I clamped my mouth around her cock the moment the wine stopped
flowing. This time, though, she threw the glass away, grabbed my face in
her hands, and thrust her cock into my mouth. I gagged and wretched as her
cockhead slipped into my throat, but she held me there until I was able to
relax and adjust. After that, she fucked my face hard and fast, crushing my
nose against her groin, and nearly bruising my chin with the bouncing of
her balls.

I reached up to play with her balls, but she slapped my hands away. "You
are not to touch until told."

Properly chastised, I dropped my hands to my side and just let her use
me. My face was her fuck-toy, and I existed only to ensure that the seal
was tight, the throat was deep, and the tongue never stopped caressing that
incredible shaft of flesh.

She suddenly let go of my head. "Quickly. Open your mouth."

I did as I was told, and was rewarded with a jet of hot cum. She spurted so
hard, so strong, that I felt a stinging sensation against the top of my
mouth. It was the most glorious thing I had ever tasted, so completely
different from my own cum. I was sweet and nutty, with a bitter edge that
was softened by another taste I couldn't place.

Barbi hand a tight grip on her cock, squeezing the head with her gloved
fingers. I could see her physically shaking as she aimed that magnificent
monster, then let go her fingers and branded my face with a line of cum
from my left eye to the right side of my chin. She squeezed and aimed
again, then completed the sloppy `X' with a stream of shemale semen
stretching from the left side of my chin to my right eye.

Her control was incredible!

After the `X' was done, she pulled back, leaving a good foot of space
between us, and released her cockhead for the last time. The spurt wasn't
quite as strong as the first one, but it still managed to cross the
distance and land against the back of my tongue. With that, she shoved the
cockhead just inside my mouth and let me nurse the rest of the seed from
her slit. At that moment, I never wanted to eat or drink anything else for
the rest of my life, because I knew even the finest wines and pastries
could never possibly compare to the hot, white, nourishment still slowly
tricking down my throat.

The taste was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I was instantly
addicted, and all I wanted was more.

"Good job, my sweet little bitch." Barbi pulled me up from her cock, even
as she sat up before me. Smelling strongly of sweat and perfume, she
slurped the cummy `X' from my face and then kissed me hard. We swapped her
cum back and forth in a series of passionate kisses, until there was
finally nothing left but our saliva.

"I need a quick break," she told Alan, "but I'd like you to take Heathyr
out onto the balcony for some slutty, just got face-fucked, photos with the
city lights in the background."

We were only outside for a few minutes, but long enough to enjoy the
catcalls and jeers of the men on the rooftop patio across the
street. Feeling bold and daring, I actually leaned over the railing at one
point and flashed them a pierced nipple. Alan laughed like it was the
funniest thing in the world, then pulled me back inside when it was time to
swap out camera batteries.

Back inside I found Barbi waiting for me, her cock dangling semi-hard
between her legs. "Take this," she handed me a small plastic tube, "and
work it into your ass while you suck my cock." This was it. This was the
moment I was waiting for. I was terrified, but I was also extremely
aroused. I was more than a little drunk too, but as much as it helped with
the pain of my newly pierced breasts, I didn't think it had any impact on
my desire . . . my need to please her.

Barbi guided me over to the bed and had me lay down on my back. She pressed
the head of her cock against my ass and told me to beg for it.

"Please fuck your sissy bitch, Goddess. I want to feel you inside of me. I
need to have your cock fill me." I thrust my ass up and wiggled it against
your cock. "I am your bitch, and my ass is yours. I beg of you, Goddess,
destroy me with your tool and claim my worthless gift for yourself."

It sounded corny, but it was also sincere.

"That's too bad." She pulled her cock away from my ass, leaving a cold void
where her hot, swollen, cockhead had been just a moment before. "You don't
sound convincing. You must not want it badly enough."

Before I could utter a single cry of sissy protest, she rammed her cock
into my ass. I cried out from the pain. If I hadn't already be desensitized
by the piercing of my nipples, the pain of her cock so brutally piercing my
ass would surely had rendered me unconscious.

At the same time, beneath the pain was a feeling of fullness. Knowing what
I had just taken inside me, seeing the look of blissful triumph on her
face, and knowing that my sissy ass had put it there, was just heavenly.

With half her cock buried in my ass, Barbi began fucking me with short,
slow, shallow strokes. She was holding my legs in her hands, forcing me
wide, even as she leaned into me. I could feel every movement inside me,
but the pain was already giving way to a strange kind of
numbness. Regardless, with the shock of the moment passed, I remember why I
was there and began pleasuring my Goddess.

I moaned like a bitch in heat and forced myself to press back against her
cock. In response, she began to make her strokes longer and faster, almost
withdrawing her head from my hole. Despite the pain, I knew I couldn't let
her leave, so I pushed back again and squeezed my asshole around the shaft.

"Very good, my bitch. You're learning."

By that point, the numbness had given way to a warm tingling sensation. I
was starting to enjoy not just the idea of what we were doing, but the act
itself.

"Please, Barbi, give it all to me. Drive that hard cock as deep into my ass
as you can and fuck me until I can't walk." I was wiggling and squeezing
and pressing my ass against her in time with her strokes. "Take me,
Goddess, break me, make me the best fuck toy you've ever had."

Without breaking away, she used my legs to flip me over onto my
stomach. She pulled my ass into the air, pushed away my attempt to support
myself with my arms, and forced my face into the sweaty, wine-and-cum
stained sheets.

Only then did she begin to properly plough her sissy bitch. Even though I'd
already taken half of her cock, taking the rest was ten times more painful,
and a hundred times more rewarding. Her shemale tool was deeper inside my
body than anything had ever been before, and I was loving it. The longer
she fucked me, the more I wanted.

The room was filled with the smells and sounds of sex. I was moaning like a
good sissy, while Barbi was hissing and groaning against me. Alan was still
circling us with his camera, and even he looked a bit flushed.

After a while, Barbi pulled me back so that I was actually standing on the
floor, but still had my head pressed into the mattress. That gave her a
whole new angle to fuck, and I could feel how much we were both enjoying
it. The pain and the fear were gone, leaving only pure, unadulterated
pleasure. I never knew having anything in my ass could feel good, much less
this good, and I never wanted her to stop.

A few minutes later, I was completely amazed myself by cumming all over the
bed. My cock was hard, but dangling and bobbing in the air above the
mattress. Nothing had touched it, but it was coming harder, and feeling
more indescribably pleasurable, than any orgasm I'd had before.

"Oh, yes." Barbi grabbed my hips and began fucking me even harder. "That's
my sissy, that's my bitch." She was riding me hard, and using every ounce
of leverage to get deeper inside me. "I can count the number of sluts on
one hand who have managed a successful sissy cunt orgasm." My goddess
leaned over and nibbled at my ear. "Barbi's proud of her little bitch."

She pulled us further way from the bed, until my face was sliding in the
pool of hot cum I'd deposited moments before. Without having to be told, I
began cleaning up my mess, greedily slurping the cum from the sheets.

I was just swallowing the last drop -- it tasted soooo much better than
it ever had on those occasions when I'd tried forcing myself to taste it at
home -- when she screamed and erupted inside my ass. Even though she'd
already cum once in my mouth, the torrent she unleashed inside my ass was
double what I'd swallowed earlier. She came so hard and for so long, I
could feel it dribbling out of my ass and running down my legs.

Then, just when I thought we were done, she ripped her softening cock from
my ass and clamped her mouth to the hole. She sucked out my anal creampie,
sticking her tongue deep inside me, until her mouth was full of spent
cum. She then, of course, snowballed me with it, once again kissing and
swapping sperm until we drained each other's mouths dry.

The moment she broke away from our kiss, I spun around, dropped to my
knees, and worshiped her cock clean with my tongue.

"Wow." I was startled by the voice, having forgotten that Alan was still in
the room with us. "I think this bitch is a keeper, Barbi." He laughed. "I
really think you need to get her a sissy tattoo that won't wash off,
though."

Barbi and I both looked back to see my glitter-pen tattoo smeared across my
back.

"Well, we do have all week," she reminded me. "In the meantime . . ."

Spent and confused, I could only watch as she walked unsteadily across the
room to snatch up the small canvas bag that my piercings had come out
of. Bringing it back to me, she reached inside and pulled out a pink
leather choker.

"Do you like?" She held it before my eyes, showing the words `Barbi's
Bitch' branded into the leather. "Now, this is to be riveted on," she
showed me the gun, "and never to be removed." She placed it against my
throat for a moment, then took it away.

I don't remember the words, but I'm sure I made an absolute idiot of myself
begging her for the privilege of wearing her collar. I know there were real
tears in my eyes and butterflies in my stomach, but I had never wanted
something so badly in all my life. Fuck family. To hell with work. Gawking
strangers could kiss my ass. I wanted that collar and all that it signified
like the greediest gold-digger wanted that diamond-studded engagement ring.

As she popped the three rivets through the back of the collar, she told me
I was such a good bitch and such a good present that she was almost sorry
about retiring. She told me she felt bad for taking advantage and maxing
out my credit card, but the sale of our photos and videos should generate
enough interest for her to sell my trademark to one the high-end sissy porn
sites I'd naively suggested she partner with instead of retiring.

I experience a brief moment of panic at the news, even though I knew she
was probably kidding. That fear was absolutely undone by the feeling of the
collar being fastened about my neck. By the time she was done, and let the
warm pink leather find its natural place around my throat, I found myself
wondering and almost wishing she wasn't kidding.

As I found a few days later, she wasn't.

*******

At the end of the week, I reluctantly dropped Barbi off back at her
house. She left me with enough memories to last a lifetime, two suitcases
of sexy outfits we'd gone out and purchased after returning the others to
the strippers, and a third suitcase full of sex toys (some of which I still
didn't know the purpose of).

We'd switched hotels three times during the week, dragging along Alan at
every step. At one point, during an outdoor shoot in the park, we'd been
chased by a gang of homophobic thugs who quickly turned angry when they
realised the two hot chicks making out on the playground really weren't
chicks. Other than that, everything went remarkably well.

Once all was said and done, Barbi insisted I drive home looking my sissy
best, and even took me shopping at a high-end department store on our last
night in the city to pick up something sexy enough to be worthy of her
bitch, but still acceptable for daytime wear amid the prudes of
Pennsylvania.

Not only were we welcomed and accommodated, the salesgirl came along to
play for an evening. For somebody so cute and innocent looking, she ended
up suggesting things that even had Barbi blushing. Not that that stopped us
from trying out each and every one, of course.

Maybe it was the Canadian license plates, or maybe it was just the fact
that I was the only driver on the road, but I picked up another sheriff's
escort on my drive home. I was in far too good of a mood to worry about it,
and just took my time, giving him no reason in the world to pull me over.

Until he flashed his sirens and did just that.

"Good afternoon, ma'am." He stared down at me from behind his
sunglasses. "Do you know why I pulled you over?"

In my best, soft sissy voice, I told him I didn't.

"You didn't slow for that caution light back there."

I looked behind me to confirm that there was, in fact, no caution light to
slow down for.

Before I could say it, he shrugged his shoulders in apology. "I'm afraid
the light blew down in last week's storm, but the traffic violation is
still in order." He began flipping through his ticket book, which he held
right next to the bulge in his pants. As worried as I was about the
situation, I couldn't help but notice.

"I'm afraid this is a `failure to obey' citation, which carries a fine that
must be paid on the spot."

The idea of a `failure to obey' citation sent a thrill through my newly
sexed body. Even though I'd already paid the same ticket back home last
year, the terminology was undeniably erotic to a submissive sissy slut
who'd just spend a week being her shemale Goddess' bitch.

The officer leaned in through my window, smelling of sweat, coffee, and Old
Spice deodorant. "Now," he said, "I, for one, think it's far too fine day
to waste on paperwork." He put the ticket book back in his pocket and
adjusted his package. "What do you say, Miss Heathyr? Can we come to an
alternate arrangement?"

It took me a moment to realise he called me Heathyr. When that fact finally
dawned upon me, I smiled and nervously licked my lips.

As I reach out for his zipper, I promised him that I would never `fail to
obey' ever again.

*******