0 comments/  116313 views/  23 favorites

Cassandra Ch. 01

By: AngelCherysse



Cassandra is a tease, a flirt, a slut, a girl who lives very much for the moment. Unconcerned with propriety or fashion trends, she dresses in clothes that go right for the jugular of a fetishist's libido. Spandex, leather, latex, spike heels, corsets, overdone hair, make-up and fingernails - these are her stock-in-trade. Cassandra flaunts her outrageous body with wanton abandon. She is soft, sinuous, seductive, an open invitation to sample her treasures. Many have. She craves cock and has had more boys that she can possibly remember - or ever care to. "I can have cock anytime," she muses. "I don't need a boy to make me feel complete." Some might regard her as bizarre, perverse, obscene. Cassandra doesn't. She loves her life, and herself, more now than she ever has before.

Girls like Cassandra are made, not born. Bit by bit, Cassandra was guided, shaped, molded, transformed into everything she is today. It took time, patience, dedication, perseverance, and lots of love. It took Melissa. She is Cassandra's roommate, friend, confidant, fashion advisor, counselor, personal physician - and Mistress. Melissa is also the one, true love of Cassandra's life, forever and ever. Who would know better than I? As I said, she made me everything I am today - and so much more than I ever dreamed I could be. I had been 'dressing up' as long as I could remember. My early attempts were crude, to be sure. I 'borrowed' things from my mother and sisters and kept practicing, experimenting. I hadn't really developed a feminine persona yet; I just had an 'urge'.

My hobby was a solitary one. In my hometown, such a thing "just wasn't done". I didn't dare reveal myself to anyone. The boys' vulgar jokes and derision of "Faggots" and "Drag Queens" scared me off. I wanted the girls to like me, to accept me, and they did - but only as a friend. They perceived me as "too small", "too thin", "too pretty", and "too swishy" to be boyfriend material. They used to talk around me as though I was one of them, gossiping about hair, makeup, which boys were "real studs" and which girls had "made it" with them. The girls were only teasing me, but I was living for it.

I went to college, studied Computer Science, and played at being "One of the Guys". I went to football games, out to the bars, rode my motorcycle, and dressed very 'butch' - though with stylishly-long hair. It was more difficult to pursue my desires at school. There really wasn't much privacy in the dorms, so dressing was out. I moved off-campus to more private accommodations as soon as university regulations permitted, but even then I had roommates, homework and projects to contend with. I picked up scene magazines; "Cosmopolitan", "Elle", "Vogue", and specialty hairstyle and make-up magazines. I bought makeup, styling gel, hairspray and a set of hot rollers and spent whatever private time I had painting my face and styling my hair, then dressing in some cute little outfit I had pieced together. I spent my precious stolen hours in feminine bliss and dreamed of a day I could dress up without fear of being discovered.

During the spring of my senior year, I saw a promotional flyer for a seminar on 'Alternative Sexual Lifestyles'. I awaited the event with anticipation. At last, I would meet 'kindred spirits', people who saw sexuality as more than "Me Tarzan, you Jane", or "Paradise by the Dashboard Light". The seminar was a complete waste of time. It was an amateurish forum by campus gay and lesbian activists to vent their spleens against social injustice - at least, where it was unjust towards them. Nothing at all was said about the other variations on the 'Alternatives' theme. But there WAS Melissa.

I sat next to her (on purpose) and we began chatting between speakers. I was 'traveling incognito' in jeans and black leather biker jacket and carrying my helmet. She was spectacularly beautiful; long, thick, streaked hair a la Cindy Crawford, big, wide-set blue eyes, full, pouty lips. Melissa was not particularly well-built, but so what? She was engaging, effervescent, smart, sassy, sexy and self-assured. And, she was HERE! That had to mean SOMETHING. She was the kind of woman I could lose myself in - and did.

We became lovers almost immediately. I couldn't believe it; she wanted me passionately! I was new to these things, but I sensed something developing, something deep that neither was willing to discuss. There was so much I wanted to tell her, so much I wanted to share, but I was afraid to open up to her. I think she felt the same way; we didn't even discuss why each of us had been at the seminar. In addition, I could sense almost from the start she was involved with someone else. Don't ask me how; call it 'female intuition'. 

After a while, she just stopped seeing me, stopped returning my calls. I was hurt. I didn't understand. I wished we had had more time together, time for me to summon the courage to say the things I wanted to tell her. I resigned myself to the loss, but she haunted the corridors of my mind for a long time.

I earned my degree, moved to the city, and landed a good job at Barnes and Bidwell. I hit it off well enough with my co-workers, especially Gwen. She worked in Human Resources (they don't call it "Personnel" anymore) and helped me fill out the myriad of forms that goes with a new job. We had lunch together and she introduced me to her girlfriends: Peggy from Human Resources, Beth, and Lisa from Word Processing, Melanie from Payroll, Suzie from Administration, Nancy and Gayle from Accounting. They made me feel so at ease. 

Before I knew it, I had friends - and girlfriends at that! I found an apartment (my own place at last!), started shopping for my 'special things', hung or put them away in their own places in my closets and dressers, and settled in to practice my own version of The Good Life.

I kind of drifted into the Drag Queen/Transsexual scene. There were some substantial differences between me and them; I had a job, paid my own bills without selling drugs or hooking, wasn't all that interested in the latest music by Des'ree, Pebbles, or Salt n' Peppa, didn't want to compete in any pageants, and wasn't looking for a 'husband'. I didn't even dress at first (after all this time 'in the closet', I was too afraid of looking silly), while most of them were living 24/7. Still, I felt comfortable there. I had finally found others like me who enjoyed being as feminine as they could be.

I was fascinated by the fact they all had femme names and personalities, even if it was all illusion. Well, why not? I had been living the same illusion all my life. It just made sense; it was an entirely different 'me', who deserved her own identity. I certainly didn't want to get all dressed up, go to a club, and introduce myself as "Matt". I spent the rest of the week thinking up a name, thinking up the right SOUND of a name, to compliment the woman within me. I literally woke up in the middle of the night with the answer - and the resolve to make it happen.

That Friday night, I took a long, luxuriant bath and shaved my smooth, supple body. I then carefully, exquisitely painted my pretty face. Next, I dressed in red lace waist cincher, bra, bikini panties and garter belt, sheer black stockings, red spandex tank dress, red patent belt and red patent five-inch spikes. My bra cups were filled out with very realistic (and hideously expensive) silicone breast forms that jiggled as I walked. I donned my flashiest hair and pinned it tightly to my scalp. "If I only have one life, let me live it as a blonde," I mused. I added equally-flashy necklace, earrings, bangles and ankle chain. I added long, crimson press-on nails for drama, then spritzed on a liberal amount of "Obsession". Thus, "Cassandra Santee" was ready to make her debut.

The city had a number of clubs that welcomed girls like me, not to mention those who admire us. I vowed I would experience every one I could find. That first time, I would have been satisfied with a smile or two; perhaps even an appreciative "nice". I never expected to be as well-received as I was. I don't know how many times someone (usually another cross-dresser or a 'straight' guy who liked "chicks with dicks") stopped me and told me I was beautiful or sexy. Even some of the queens said I looked good - for a "rock" (whatever that meant). It was faint praise, but better than none at all. All in all, my first time was a lot of fun.

In time, I became known around the scene and was welcomed warmly wherever I went. I made some friends, including cross-dressers, Queens, gay boys, even bouncers (always nice to have around when you want to get in without waiting in line or to get rid of some abusive Yuppie jerk). I found out I had more in common with the Queens than I had previously thought. Once they got to know you, they were a lot more fun to be around than the "weekend warriors" who wore opaque pantyhose and long sleeves to hide their hairy legs and arms. We hung out, danced, got a little drunk, and just had a good time. We even ventured to some of the straight clubs when they had special events. The management loved us; we were exotic and controversial, which made us "cool", and their club the "cool place to be". 

I learned the local idiom and grew comfortable in conversing in it. For instance, I finally found out a 'rock' is a (usually new) girl who has not undergone any kind of physical transformation (hormones, implants, or other cosmetic procedure). This is not to be confused with a "rock star", who is a girl on Crack. My new friends gave me tips on dressing, 'tucking', makeup and hair and other tricks of the trade. They told me they got their curvy bodies through a combination of hormones and "pumping" - silicone injections - and recommended I get myself "done". "We know this great doctor," my friend Naomi told me. "She's fish (genetic female), but she's really into us 'girls'. She gives us all the 'mones we want. Just say the word, Sugar, and I'll fix you up with her. Girlfriend, you would be sen-SA-tional!" I was a bit awed by the fact that a physician - genetically-female at that - would take an active interest in the scene. I made a mental note to inquire about that later.

This Jeckyll/Hyde existence went on for a couple of years. 'Matt' went to work at Barnes and Bidwell five days a week. He worked hard, made a good living, had fun with his friends at work, and went home. From time to time, he went out shopping "for his girlfriend", buying new clothes, shoes, jewelry and makeup. He frequented a wig shop owned by a gay hairdresser who was only too happy to help out. Then 'Cassandra', a creature of the night, prowled the dark, forbidden places where good girls and proper people didn't go.

Gwen and the other girls at work took an almost-motherly interest in my personal life. I think the dears were actually worried I went home and watched television every night. They casually inquired if I was seeing anyone. I just smiled. "No one in particular," I replied.

"Why don't you come out shopping with us sometime, or for Girls' Night Out? You can be an honorary 'girl' for the evening. It's almost like you are one of us as it is."

If you only knew.

"Thanks. I just might take you up on that some time."

Halloween is always a special occasion in the scene. Everyone turns out - and really turns it on. All the straight bars were featuring costume contests with cash prizes for the best or most original costume. There was even a contest at work. Gwen chided me for not wearing a costume. "It's only once a year. C'mon, loosen up!" I managed to keep a straight face.

"I have one, but I'm saving it for tonight. It's kind of involved and I don't want to ruin it."

I would have loved to show everyone my 'costume', but thought better of it.

I was at the bars and had just danced a set up on one of the risers. My sleek, shiny, form-fitting latex dress hugged a nipped-in waist and realistic-looking silicone boobies. I danced expertly in five-inch black patent stilettos. One of my bouncer friends had helped me down and I was headed for the Ladies Room to freshen my makeup.

"You looked really HOT up there, Girlfriend. How about a drink?"

I turned around to see the source of the sexy, feline voice that authored the invitation. MELISSA! My heart shot into my throat. After all this time, and now to see her again...LIKE THIS! 

And this wasn't the Melissa I remembered. This Melissa had BODY! It was all I could do to not stare at her magnificent breasts, tiny waist, and full, flaring hips, all poured into a figure-hugging black calfskin bustier sheath with matching thigh-high, spike-heeled, lace-up boots and armpit-length black kid gloves. A black-and-red Heartwood flogger dangled casually from a clip on her multi-stranded chain-link belt. Her hair and makeup were as severe as her Dominatrix garb - almost as dramatic as my own. And something else - the gleam in her eyes and slight twitch to her broadly-smiling lips told me she was tripping on Ecstasy. If she recognized me, she didn't show it. Finally, I gathered my wits.

"Thanks, but I, uh, was just on my way to the Little Girls' Room to freshen up."

"Sounds like a great idea. I need to take the shine off my nose, too. Mind if I join you,...?"

"Cassandra. Cassandra Santee."

"So YOU are Cassandra! I was hoping we would meet someday. I'm Melissa Monet. I have heard SO MUCH about you from my friends. They told me you were breath-taking. Even that doesn't do you justice. You are GORGEOUS! Come on, Girlfriend. I'm not going to share you with ANYONE tonight!"

She took my arm in hers and led me towards the bathrooms. Her strong, confident mien and the tone in her voice advised she was not one to take "no" for an answer. Dazed, I could but follow her lead.

There is a small, dark alcove just off the main hallway leading to the bathrooms. Anyone standing there, in the shadows, cannot be seen by people passing by. Melissa thrust me into the alcove forcefully, slamming my back against the rear wall with a "thump". She pinned my hands flat against the wall by the wrists, ground her body into mine and kissed me ravenously, burying her tongue deeply into my mouth. I felt the swell of her magnificent breasts, the thrust of her erect nipples and the heat of her body as it pressed against mine. I smelled the muskiness of her exotic perfume. I heard the ripple of her leather dress and boots and the husky rasp of her ragged breathing. I could see nothing. The throbbing bulge she felt pressing against her mound was unmistakable.

"My now, what have we HERE? Tsk, tsk, Little Girl; that's NOT very ladylike."

My captor forced both of my hands behind my back, then pinned them against the wall by thrusting her body hard against mine. I could have escaped, of course - but why on earth would I want to? She reached down to my hem and slowly, tortuously, unzipped my dress's full-length front zipper to the waist. Then, she deftly freed my raging cock from its pantied prison.

"Mmm, not ladylike at ALL. Whatever am I going to do with THIS?"

In answer to her own question, the beautiful Dominatrix lifted one booted leg and impaled her drenched pussy on my cock in one fluid motion. She thrust against me as if her life depended on it. The pretense of captivity was forgotten for the moment. I freed one hand to support her raised leg, then the other to aid her thrusting attack.

Her scream began as a low, guttural moan deep in her belly, rising in pitch and crescendo until it rang in my ears and jarred me right to my soul. I don't think anyone but us could have heard it above the pounding din of the heavy industrial music, but that was enough. She thrashed against me again and again, like some demon machine gone berserk. I came with her, shooting torrents of jism into her with the force of a firehose. Years of pent-up frustration, of desire denied, came gushing out in those few exquisite seconds of tortured bliss.

We stood there, trembling in the dark. Neither made any attempt to disengage from the other. I flexed my cock at irregular intervals, causing it to swell and extend inside her. Each time, she whimpered and spasmed. The music pounded around us. People walked back and forth, laughing and talking, not six feet away. We were as oblivious to their presence as they were to ours. As ludicrous as it seemed, given the situation, it was the first time in my life I really felt like a man. It was also to be the only time.

I don't know how, but Gwen and the others could tell. Perhaps it was a glazed expression on my face when I walked in on Monday morning. Perhaps I was staring dreamily out into space at my desk. Perhaps it really WAS female intuition. They cornered me at lunch.

"Admit it; you got LAID this weekend, didn't you?"

I blushed, looked at the floor and smiled sheepishly.

"I KNEW it! Who IS she? Where did you meet her? TELL US!"

I told them about meeting Melissa in college, how we parted too soon, and that I hadn't seen her in all that time until Friday night. I graphically described our "zipless fuck" in the crowded dance club, leaving out the details of which club it was and how we were attired. Their jaws dropped and their eyes bugged out as I related the story. "My GAWD," Beth intoned. "I thought that only happened in the movies." "You STUD you," Gwen gushed in mock disbelief. "And to think I was worried you were gay or something."

Melissa called me every night that week. We talked dirty for hours, as new lovers do - or, at least, as I have heard they do. I was amazed at how easily I fell into the role of the sexy slut who has just been 'conquered', considering I had no previous experience. But then, I have my soft, breathy, sexy voice to work with, a voice that has been described as anything but masculine. I was also aided by Melissa's own somewhat-imperfect recollection of that night. She had a napkin, on which had been hastily scribbled: 

Cassandra 555-2739 CALL ME!

She also had a hazy vision of a latex-clad, blue-eyed, blonde bombshell and an apparently-unencumbered memory of a magnificent, mind-blowing fuck that had launched her into orbit. She invited me to an intimate dinner for two at her place on Saturday night. She promised candlelight, classical guitar, lobster, champagne, and a reprise of the previous weekend. "Wear something glamorous," she purred. "And sexy."

I pulled out all the stops. I wore a floor-length, black crepe evening gown with spaghetti straps, gathered bodice, and long, long front slit. My slim, stocking-clad legs were revealed in all their glory as I crossed one leg delicately over the other. My dainty feet were shod in spike-heeled, ankle-strap, black kidskin sandals. My makeup was smoldering, yet tasteful. My lips, fingertips and toes were the same shade of blood red, and my golden hair cascaded softly around my shoulder blades. Long crystal chandelier earrings swayed from my earlobes, while a matching multiple-tiered necklace encircled my throat. A wide crystal bracelet adorned my left wrist, while its more diminutive cousin graced my ankle.

Mere words cannot describe the look on Melissa's face when she finally realized who I was. It happened near the end of dinner, after the lobster but before the champagne was completely gone. I had brought Taittinger, my favorite, and we were both a little giddy. Andres Segovia on the stereo had only heightened the mood. Melissa had not been able to tear her eyes away from me all evening.

I had seen it coming; that slightly-puzzled, quizzical expression that declares: "I know you from somewhere. Where was it?" When it hit, it truly was a "Kodak Moment". A chain-association image flashed before her eyes in an instant: from a leather-and-denim-clad college boy to the latex-clad slut she had shamelessly humped in the dance club the week before, to the sleek, sophisticated blonde arrayed before her at that moment.... Her eyes were like saucers. She slipped one delicate hand to her lips.


Cassandra Ch. 01



Sitting in the cold entrance hall, Cassandra's hands shook nervously as she gripped the crisp sheaf of papers tightly. The contract she had always dreamed and fantasized about having, one that would see her desires lived out at last.

Her new owner walked in, slacks and white cotton shirt hiding a powerful, large frame. Wispy curls of black hair showing underneath the open collar, piercing blue eyes staring at her small shaking form crowded onto the corner of the small red leather ottoman. "Have you signed the contract yet? We need to get on with your introduction, and I would rather have you marked sooner than later. It's easier to cut the ties to your old life, that way." he said quietly, voice carrying through the mostly empty room.

Eyes lowered, she held forth the contract for him to inspect, talking in a quiet, throaty tone. "Signed on all three pages, Sir. As requested, I have already donated all of my belongings to The Estate. All I have, now, are the clothes on my back..."

"Good!" He drawled. "Timely obedience is something expected of all servants on the Estate grounds. You are also expected to obey without question when commanded by anyone of a higher rank than yourself, unless the command contradicts a previous command from myself or my mate. You will spend your first week getting acquainted with life here, and within the first month start receiving your modification therapy. Wait here, your guide will be along presently."

Pacing the rosewood-inlay parquet floor, her thoughts raced ahead as she waited. What would her modification involve? She had caught glimpses upon arriving at the gates of red-tailed post human hybrids, and something darkly scaled moving through the undergrowth, crowding thickly on the sides of the long cobbled drive.

The Estate, known to the outside world as the Chateaux of Dreams, was almost impossible to join as anything more than a servant. Having come into existence at the end of the 23rd century during the beginning of human awakening, it was one of the first and most extreme post-human modification houses. One could, of course, if money was no issue, simply pay for modification and leave, re-enter society as an idol, a model of perfection to those without the means to fulfill their desires. Positions were much in demand and fierce competition existed between the masses of aspiring humans. Females were more often than not selected over males for the symmetry of their bodies, the gentle curves and soft skin favored over the coarser male figure.

The soft slap of bare feet against the wooden floors brought her out of her reverie with a start. Her guide, Shorn, had arrived to lead her into the bowels of the large building. The time had come for her to leave her memories of the outside world behind and start again, begin a new existence.

There were no obvious differences between Shorn and those outside the estate, if one looked past the slight grey fur covering his exposed skin, the strange liquid look of his figure and the depth and clarity of his violet eyes.

His voice was as a stream in high summer, flowing and melodic. Hinting at hidden eddies and rapids. He stood behind her, talking with a slight amused lilt. "Cassandra? Follow me, please. And... Congratulations on your successful application. At this late stage, many aspirants for the position turn back."

Whirling around, Shorn quietly made his way towards the teak doors at the end of the hall. Cassandra followed, stumbling in his wake as the spicy scent of cinnamon roiled subtly off his skin. Neglecting to ask the obvious question, she thought quietly to herself, "The position serves me... As I serve it. Pleasure isn't my hobby, it's my talent".

Led down a red brick staircase hidden behind the doors at the back of the entrance hall, the slightly muggy air cooling as the distinct smell of clinical grade cleaning chemicals wafted up from below, she watched with fascination as the lower halls slowly gave way from crumbling brick and old mortar to clean steel walkways and opaque glass doors, lit with recessed lighting in the high ceiling.

Shorn stopped suddenly, facing an unmarked door. Taking hold of Cassandra's arm, he pulled her gently into the crowded room, the door swinging shut with finality behind them. Cassandra stood in Shorn's shadow, staring meekly at the tall man sitting on a tall stool in the far corner of the room.

Glittering, blue scales covered the heavily muscled, waspishly shaped form. Slight but lithe, seemingly capable of moving with an electric grace. Fine, chiseled face surrounding eyes hiding a hooded strength.

He uncoiled slowly, standing before them as a dervish smile formed on his fluid features. "Shorn... A new one? She has the look of a frightened deer" He said, leering at the girl hiding in the shadows. Finding her eyes with his, following every nervous twitch, he scratched absently at the dark outline of a sinuous snake showing through the scales on his upper arm. "Step forward, lass. Strip for us, you won't be needing those clothes anymore".

Cassandra edged forward into the room, standing between the two tall men. Suddenly in her element, she began gyrating to an unheard beat, spinning in place as she pulled her worn, pale green tight fitting tank top off over her head. Her long auburn hair whipped between the men crowding her as a strong hand settled around her hip and pulled her roughly towards the scent of cinnamon, soft lips nuzzling against her nipples as she struggled out of tattered blue jeans, fingers brushing against a growing bulge in Shorn's cotton trousers.

Clad only in her thin panties, she leaned into him, hand rubbing Shorn's growing erection as he pushed her down onto a cold steel tattooist's chair. Wreath, the azure scaled tattooist, pinned her arms at her sides, securing her hands in vice-like manacles as Shorn shrugged out of his trousers, sitting squarely between her spread legs, fingers circling against the wetness of her loins, soaking through the thin undergarment.

The shocking drone of an electric tattoo gun broke the lust-like scene unfolding in the room before her as Wreath crouched over her prone form. "Pain and pleasure mixed is the ultimate achievement of post-human ascendency... And for myself, work before play."

The gun bit into Cassandra's neck, carving the outline of a lifelike human-fox hybrid dancing under misty moonlight as Shorn ripped away her underwear, forcing two long fingers into her wet sex, grinning as his large member dripped precum along the inside of her thighs. Lining the massive head up with her tight tunnel, he reached forward, digging nails into the tight flesh of her perky tits, pulling her forward to impale herself as the tattoo gun left ink-filled furrows in the skin of her neck.

Groaning in pain and gasping in pleasure, Cassandra wrapped her legs tightly around Shorn's waist, pulling him into her. He began thrusting, her hips creaking as he penetrated her, juice dripping from her tight pussy, making the steel chair slip under her as Shorn struck out with his left hand, fingers wrapping into her hair with an animal lust, holding her still whilst Wreath concentrated on her neck, purposefully oblivious to her precarious situation.

Cassandra writhed with the swollen member filling her as Shorn beat out a fast tempo with his cock, sliding almost all the way out of her before driving back in with fierce joy. His face contorted as his thrusts became shorter and stronger, pumping her full of his seed.

Cassandra blinked owlishly at Shorn, eyes full of needful lust as he began wiping his dripping member off against her legs, pussy stretched as cum slid down her legs in large gobbets. "P...Please Shorn... Sir... Finish me off... I need to cumm... Please? I was so close..." She gasped out between deep breaths.

Shorn laughed scornfully as Wreath finished the tattoo, the fox dripping crimson from the depth the gun was forced into her skin. "You are nothing, to us. Satisfy our pleasure and we will make sure you are well cared for. Make us angry, and we will leave you with the horses come breeding season..."

Shorn stood, cock already shrinking as he pushed it gently back into his pants. He walked towards the door, ready to leave the forlorn girl with Wreath. "I have other duties to manage, this afternoon. Wreath, when he is finished with you, will show you where to go." He said softly, as he left the room.

Unclipping the flesh-warm manacles, Wreath helped Cassandra up as she stared into the mirror on the opposite wall. The fox seemed almost alive, moving with teasing allure as she shifted her head from side to side. Wreath caught her gaze with greedy eyes. "On your knees, girl. You know what I want from you..." He whispered, stepping back and sliding down his black leather shorts.

Cassandra looked up at the man towering over her, confusion etched onto her face. He looked androgynous. Where she expected to see cock, eager for her warm mouth, there was a simple slit. Carefully, she ran her tongue along the slit, leaning backwards in disgust as a pale, fleshy and vaguely penile shape shot forward, slapping against her lips.

Grunting, Wreath took hold of her head, forcing the cold, slimy thing between her teeth. As it touched the back of her throat, she struggled to control the urge to vomit. Wreath spoke softly, menace clear in his voice. "So that's how it's going to be, is it? Fine."

Clapping both scaled hands to the sides of her head, he began to skull-fuck her. Cock moving like a piston down her throat, he giggled softly as she struggled for air. In desperation, Cassandra started stroking the underside of the reptilian member with her tongue, urging him to finish with her, urging him to let her go.

Pulling out of her mouth, Wreath shoved her face down onto the cold floor. Moving behind Cassandra, he lifted her hips effortlessly, spreading her taut cheeks without mercy as he drove deep into her rear, dry. Screaming, Cassandra tried to pull away as the cock reamed her insides, forcing her sphincter muscles apart with uncaring force.

Wriggling and unable to get away, Cassandra sobbed as Wreath used her. He came deep inside her, gushing warm torrents of cum into her shaking body. Groaning with pleasure, he spoke to her loudly, booming voice echoing off the walls of the room. "You are a servant! Your place is below me. You will satisfy me, whether you like it or not. You are marked, now. You belong to the Estate!"

Cassandra stood on shaky legs, the reek of cum rolling off her in waves. "Where must I go now?" she asked fearfully, determined to make it through what remained of the afternoon. Wreath answered her softly, "Upstairs. Out of the clinic areas. Take the third door off the main hall, to the servant's quarters. No doubt someone there will find you and put you to work, slut."

Cassandra wandered towards the servant quarters in a daze. Cum still slipping down her naked thighs, she walked with her eyes downturned, ignoring the interested stares following her softly swaying body. Moving between neatly made beds and piles of soft furs strewn around the floor in the servant's area, she slipped unnoticed into the communal showers.

Sobbing quietly as the steam laden water struck the tattoo on her neck, smarting from the pain and humiliation of her earlier fucking, she began to wash herself halfheartedly. Scrubbing the flaky, dried cum from her body, she gasped at the tender, feminine hands suddenly kneading the tension out of her shoulders.

Lips pressed playfully against her ear whispering softly to her, "The first day is always rough. Looks like Wreath got his rotten claws into you, too. My shift is over; I am off to sleep after this. Join me, and the others won't notice you until morning. You can face the world again, then. "

Cassandra turned slowly, careful not to slip on the wet tiles. Wrapping her arms gratefully around the unknown stranger she asked, "What... who... are you? You look human... Unchanged. I don't even see a mark!"

The stranger leaned forwards, wet breasts pushing firmly into Cassandra's small, perky tits. Running fingers through Cassandra's hair, the stranger began to talk slowly. "I am human, and marked, as are you. Your mark is fresh, and done with bright colour, whilst mine is older and done with ink the same tone as my skin... You will have to work to find it, to see what I will become."

Wordlessly, she began to wash Cassandra's hair. Working the knots out, wincing as her fingers ran over the marks left in her scalp by Wreath. Leaning forward, she kissed Cassandra softly, tongue tasting the wetness on the new girl's lips. "My name, is Lace..."



Cassandra Ch. 01



"Oh...my...GOD!"

I couldn't help it. I tried to be demure, but I couldn't contain myself; out came a rich, melodic laugh. Melissa feigned a fit of pique at my deception and punched me in the shoulder for having the temerity to laugh about it as well. Yet I could tell even the sound of my laughter was having an effect on her. She smiled. The smile turned to a chuckle. The chuckle became a laugh. Her laughter fed mine, and vice versa. Soon, we were both emitting peals of laughter, clutching our sides, tears rolling down our cheeks.

I withdrew a tissue from my purse and dabbed at the tears on her cheeks. She took the tissue from my hand and returned the gesture. She caressed my cheek. I caressed hers. She leaned over and kissed me; softly at first, then with gathering passion and urgency. We stood and pressed our bodies together. She took me in her arms and I yielded, melting against her.

By the time we reached her bed, we were clad only in waist-cinchers, stockings and heels. It felt so natural to worship her voluptuous body with my fingertips and tongue. I explored every inch of her with exquisite care, arousing her, enflaming her, enticing her. Finally, I ate her to one glorious orgasm after another. 

After she regained her composure, she left the bed and went into the bathroom. She returned minutes later, wearing a huge strap-on dildo. No words were spoken; none were needed. A transfer of power had taken place; yielded by one, assumed by the other. I climbed up on my hands and knees and presented my virgin ass to my lover. She penetrated me slowly, gently, recognizing my inexperience from the resistance she felt. Her demeanor was calm, serene, as though it were second nature. I came as I had never come before. My whole world exploded in a symphony of pain-pleasure.

We snuggled together, basking in the afterglow. My back was to her front, her dildo still buried deeply inside me. I felt so safe and protected with Melissa's arms around me. We revealed ourselves to each other as we never had before - as we should have done so long ago. Melissa was very bi, but had given up on serious relationships with men during college. She had wearied of being 'conquered', used up, and ultimately abandoned in favor of some new conquest.

Her desire for sex with men was unchanged, but her emotional preference gravitated toward the female gender. The 'someone else' she had been involved with when we met was Jennifer, her roommate and pledge sister. The two had been carrying on a torrid lesbian affair, with Melissa as the dominant partner and Jennifer her submissive. They had been into every kink one could imagine - and then some. 

Melissa and I had met about this time. At first she had intended me to be just another of her casual flings, a "booty call". But she had developed feelings for me, sensing something different about me than any other man she had ever known. She didn't want to tell me because she felt guilty for "betraying" Jennifer in her heart. Nor did she know how to reveal to me her need for kinky pleasures, her desire to dominate, and her love of exquisitely-feminine playmates. Breaking up with me had been difficult, but something she felt she had to do at the time.

The lovers became the scandal of their sorority and were forced to move out. In the end, Melissa's desire for sex with men was her undoing. Jennifer was insanely jealous of Melissa's frequent male consorts. "She had no reason to be," Melissa protested. "It was just sex. I can get cock anytime, but I was in love with her." Shortly after graduation, it was Jennifer's turn to abandon Melissa - for a woman who was a committed lesbian. Melissa had been completely crushed by Jennifer's abandonment. I could appreciate the irony where she could not. How many philandering males had paid the same price? The realization of having given me up as well had made the loss that much more acute.

Melissa had moved to the city afterwards and engaged in a series of short, meaningless affairs with lovers of both sexes. During this time, the glossy, superficial, transient world of the Drag Queen/Transsexual scene appeared to be ideally-suited to her needs. She adored the beautiful, feminine boy-girls she met. The bisexual in her regarded their soft good looks and non-threatening passivity as rare and attractive qualities in men. The Dominant Bitch in her regarded them as an ultimate fantasy; a pretty bauble she could conquer, transform into a feminized plaything that belonged only to her, and discard when she became bored with it. This was, in part, the reason she had set up her practice as an endocrinologist. Melissa felt supremely powerful as she transformed these delicate, effeminate boys into fabulously-proportioned shemales, destined to live the rest of their lives as beautiful, submissive sex toys. 

It had also made her more conscious of her own body, to the point where she had had it surgically enhanced to its current spectacular proportions. She wielded her exquisite new physique as a weapon, an instrument of destruction clad in the most revealing, blatantly-erotic clothing she could find. She attracted her intended prey - male, female, and in-between - and consumed them bit by bit; first their resistance, then their will, and finally their soul. Whatever was left after she had taken her pleasure, she discarded like an empty husk. Lately, she realized that she had become what she despised most - a user - and hated herself for it. She had had every intention of cutting herself off from the scene entirely, but decided to go out on Halloween for one final fling.

Melissa had been hearing stories about me for months and had wanted to meet me, but had always been in the wrong place at the wrong time. On some occasions, she had missed me by a matter of minutes. That had only served to pique her interest. When she made the decision to quit the scene, she had put that desire out of her mind. Then we met. In that one, brief, explosive encounter, she felt all the old, familiar cravings come flooding back with a vengeance. 

In the past week, she confessed, she had been completely obsessed with me. I was on her mind every waking moment and haunted her dreams as well. She just HAD to possess me! Now that she knew my identity, she was overcome by a raging storm of intense, conflicting emotions and desires.

My heart pounded as Melissa poured out her story. Her conflicts were so closely-attuned to my own. I desperately sorted through my own turmoil, groping for the right words to express what I felt. Just as before, I wanted to tell her just how much I wanted her, needed her, and always had. More than that, I felt so submissive to her; I would have done anything she asked of me at that point. Once again, the words would not come. 

Then it occurred to me; THIS time, they wouldn't have to. I gently kissed her lips and snuggled even closer, wiggling my bottom to impale myself even more deeply on her love pole. All of our hopes, dreams, desires, and emotions were exchanged in a single, wordless glance between us. In that moment, the roles were cast; we had only to play out the scene. Melissa cupped my chin in her hand, smiled, and spoke.

"You belong to me now, Cassandra - body and soul. I shall make you my personal plaything, a bizarre little sex toy that exists for my pleasure. You will submit without question to whatever demands I make of you. You have no choice, no will of your own. Do you understand, my pet?"

Tears of joy welled up in my eyes.

"Yes, Mistress."

I don't know where that came from; it just seemed the natural thing to say. It struck the right chord; Melissa smiled, kissed me deeply, as if sealing the accord, then wrapped me in her arms and snuggled up against my tush. We slept with her phallus nestled in the crack between my thighs.

From that moment on, I was Melissa's very willing submissive. As proof of my devotion to her, I acquiesced to her demand that I begin a course of hormone therapy designed to make me softer, shapelier, and more passive. I began a treatment of thrice-daily pills, supplemented by weekly shots. She introduced me to "body modification" (corseting) as part of my feminine ritual and delighted in compressing my torso as tightly as she could. 

My new hourglass figure was difficult at first; I felt as though I were being crushed within the jaws of some huge vise and could barely breathe. Even so, my new and very alluring curves were worth the effort. Flesh that had been squeezed from my waist area now spilled over on my chest or filled out my hips. With silicone breast forms and hip pads, I had a very convincing feminine shape. My lover put me on a strict diet and introduced me to daily aerobic dance classes to enhance my womanly figure and muscle tone.

As time progressed, I did feel softer, calmer, and more passive. Melissa was delighted with my increasingly docile, subservient personality. In time I became completely dependent on her and was helpless to resist her dominance in any way, meekly submitting to her bizarre plans for my development. I addressed Melissa as "Mistress" and deferred to her judgment in all things.

Without a doubt, I was also shapelier. My waist was noticeably more slender. The fleshy mounds on my chest, hips, and tush became more pronounced - and sensitive. Corseting had become a way of life - even under my male clothing. Melissa even fitted me with a full-torso 'night corset' which molded my body while I slept. It seemed only natural that I begin wearing feminine lingerie and sheer, filmy stockings as well. My sensitive breasts certainly felt better with the silky support of a padded push-up bra. My delicate little "clitty" remained tucked away without a trace inside my lacy panties, giving me a smooth, flat, feminine appearance. The sleek, snug fit of my stockings made my legs feel SO heavenly!

At first, Melissa continued to ride my cock to orgasm as she had at the club on Halloween. In addition, she trained me in the way she loved to be pleasured orally. In return, she reinforced my own feminine desires by pleasuring me anally with her strap-on phallus until I came to a glorious orgasm. As time passed, my hormonally-altered body and submissively-channeled responses took their toll on our "straight" sex. I had neither the ability nor the desire to penetrate my lover; I wanted only to pleasure her orally and, in turn, be fucked by her into quivering, mindless bliss.

Melissa began taking male lovers again. She was very open and honest with me about it, telling me she loved me with all her heart but still had needs which I was now unable to fulfill. She told me in detail about the gorgeous hunks who bedded her, how big they were, how they filled her pussy to overflowing, how they made her feel so - womanly. I wasn't hurt; our sex life was as good as it had ever been and her trust in me and caring about my feelings made me feel closer to her than ever before. If anything, I was envious; not of them - of her.

People at work took note of the changes in me. The guys snickered at me behind my back. My girlfriends began to call me "Sweetie", "Honey", and "Precious". One morning, they dragged me into the Ladies Room with them during break. They made me strip off my suit coat, tie, slacks and shirt, then admired my corseted, feminine curves, pretty lingerie and shapely, stocking-clad legs. Gwen told me they couldn't HELP noticing the thrust of my girlish bustline and the faint outline of bras, panties, and garters under my clothes. They cooed that they just ADORED my slim, sexy figure and the way I now swished as I walked. 

Once the initial shock wore off, I didn't mind them knowing. They were my girlfriends and I actually felt relieved that they now knew my secret. Under their coaxing, I revealed everything; my history of cross-dressing, how Melissa had taken control of our relationship, how she was slowly, deliberately feminizing me, and my own feelings of wonderment and anticipation over the changes in me, even my new name. My girlfriends were delighted with my incipient womanhood. Gwen hugged me tightly.

"Oh, Sweetie, I'm so happy for you. I knew you were desperately unhappy before, but I didn't know why. You have always been so sweet and innocent, just like a girl trying to find her way in the world. You shared and interacted with us as if it were the most natural thing on earth - which it just ISN'T for a man. I teased you about being like one of us, but I didn't understand. You really ARE one of us in your heart. Now, the rest of you is catching up."

They vowed they would keep it "our little secret" as long as I comported myself in the most feminine manner possible at all times in the office, took my breaks with them, kept them up-to-date on EVERYTHING regarding my relationship and transformation, used ONLY the Ladies Room - and went with them on "Girls Night Out". I found out soon after that they had contacted Melissa, revealed their knowledge of the situation, and promised their support in her efforts. Armed with that knowledge, Melissa informed me there was no reason not to take my transformation to the next level.

Melissa had me give up my apartment and move in with her. I was required to be dressed, made up and coiffed whenever I was home. Each day she tightened my corset laces a little more. Melissa began taking 'Cassandra' to the beauty salon with her. Each visit started with my lover dressing me in some tight, revealing little outfit and skyscraper stiletto-heeled shoes. My double-pierced ears were adorned with studs or buttons over large hoops or long, dangling pendants. Melissa always parked in a garage a block away from the salon, to make sure everyone got an eyeful of me as we strutted down the street. 

At first, the girls at the salon were beside themselves with glee at my predicament, marveling at the total control Melissa had over me as she calmly explained her desires for her feminized plaything. I was beyond embarrassment and secretly yearned for what lay ahead. Like the girls in the office, the salon staff warmed to Melissa's bizarre plans for me and enthusiastically conspired to make my transformation totally convincing. 

Each salon visit took me a little farther down the path toward total femininity. My ever-lengthening tresses were lightly-trimmed, styled, lightened another shade, deep-conditioned, then carefully gathered up in back. My eyebrows were plucked and shaped into high, delicate arches. My arms and legs were waxed. A facial rendered my complexion soft and creamy-smooth. My feet were pedicured and my toenails were lacquered a deep red. My lengthening fingernails were delicately shaped and polished with clear, nail-hardening enamel, then affixed with long, lustrous press-on nails in the same crimson hue as my toenails (the press-on nails were only removed when I went to work or was being manicured, and always went right back on afterwards). 

The cosmetologist made up my face in a flattering, yet always overdone look, showing me how to achieve the effect on my own. Finally, I was crowned with my blonde (or occasionally red) wig, which had been carefully styled in a big, blowsy, bimbo-ish 'do. The stylist then pinned it into place, making it feel like part of me. I was so proud of my totally-feminized appearance as I was spritzed all over with perfume and allowed to admire myself in the full-length mirror. Melissa's eyes glazed over as she beheld every luscious inch of me.

At the office, the social dynamic of my status had changed dramatically. Even with no makeup and my blonde hair tied back in a demure pony tail, my femininity was undeniable. The men now tolerated me with grudging silence. They did not abuse me openly; They didn't dare. Grace Rogers, our polished, attractive, and tres-chic Office Manager, was a zealot on the subject of harassment in the workplace. 

We had not spoken directly about my changing appearance and comportment, but she had become very friendly lately. She was not condescending or patronizing; just caring and complimentary, in the way she would be to a new girl in the office. At the same time, she issued a memo to all employees, re-affirming the company's total commitment to "a positive, professional, and TOLERANT working environment". In addition, I was protected by an ever-widening circle of girlfriends, a kind of "Mammary Mafia" of women in key positions. They could (and would) wreck any man's career, should he disparage me openly.

My relationship and increasingly-feminine appearance were my girlfriends' favorite topic of conversation. They were amazed at Melissa's total dominance over me and touched with my complete devotion to my lover. Suzie wished out loud her own relationship could be as rewarding and several others echoed her sentiment. Our trips to the Ladies Room became impromptu 'makeovers'. The girls insisted on "doing me up" with a little eyeliner and mascara, a hint of eye shadow and blush, and a coat of clear lip gloss. 

They fawned over my golden-blonde hair, brushing and shaping it into something "more attractive". "I haven't had this much fun since I gave up my Barbie Doll," Beth quipped. They lived for my blossoming figure, tightly-corsetted and adorned in the most feminine of lingerie under my drab, male suits. They longed openly for their girlfriend to "come out" in all her radiant feminine glory.

By now, I actually felt awkward and uncomfortable as anything but Cassandra. My heavy hormone dosages had had an amazing effect on my body. My hips and tush had become full and rounded, causing me to affect a fluid, natural undulation as I walked. My pert titties had swelled to an overfull B-cup. Their areolas were much larger and darker now. The nipples had become super-sensitive and seemed forever erect. 

The extreme feminization had taken its toll on my psyche as well. I had become a simpering, submissive little playtoy. I yielded willingly to Melissa's insistence that Cassandra, not Matt, accompany her everywhere in public. We shopped, went to museums, aerobics classes, dinner, movies, and clubs as girlfriends. She insisted we accept Gwen's invitation to "Girls Night Out" so she could show me off to the girls from the office. I was as bimbo-ish as my lover could make me, with teased hair, electric-pink spandex minidress, matching purse and spike heels, and wantonly-heavy makeup, with shocking-pink lips and talons. After their initial shocked disbelief at the extent of my feminization, my girlfriends were enthralled with me - and with Melissa, the authoress of my transformation. They told her how much they adored their 'girlfriend', how good I looked, and reiterated their desire to see me "come out all the way". Melissa smiled a Cheshire smile and replied that perhaps she could do something about that. I didn't think much about it at the time. 

Later, while I was dancing with a really cute boy named Todd (he had asked and Melissa had insisted I accept his invitation), I noticed Melissa had gotten really chummy with my girlfriends. They kept looking my way, smiling, and whispering to each other and nodding enthusiastically. I asked her on the way home what that had been all about. "Oh, nothing," she chirped. "Just girl-talk."

The following day, Melissa woke me at the crack of dawn.

"Come on, Sleepyhead, it's time for you to get ready for work."

"But I don't have to be at the office for three hours."

"Actually, you are going to be late today. VERY late."

I brushed my teeth, showered, then patted myself dry with a big, fluffy towel. As I stepped out of the bathroom, Melissa was waiting for me by the bed, a smile on her lips and an outfit laid out - a very feminine outfit!

"Come along, Cassandra. It's time to get dressed."

I gaped at her in astonishment.

"But, I have to go to work!"

"Don't argue with me, Missy! Start making yourself pretty for me!"




Cassandra Ch. 01



She smacked me hard on my plump asscheeks and I scurried to do as I was told.

Melissa dressed me with loving care. First, she smoothed black satin and lace bikini panties up my legs and over my hips, nestling my tiny clitty between my legs so I would have a nice, smooth pantyline. The matching demi-cup bra came next. My breasts nearly filled the C-cup bra as it was. The silicone inserts Melissa added filled the bra cups to overflowing and pushed my titties high up on my chest, giving me a deep, luscious cleavage. 

Melissa then enclosed my torso in my black satin corset. She pulled the laces tighter and tighter. When she finally tied them off, I gasped at what appeared to be a twenty-two-inch waistline. She rolled sheer black stockings up my legs and fastened them to the garters on my corset. I stepped into a slim black satin half-slip that fell to just above the knee. 

I slipped my arms into a gossamer-sheer black chiffon blouse with tailored body and long, poufy sleeves which buttoned snugly at my wrists. Melissa buttoned the blouse only to the top of my bra. She then had me step into a charcoal-gray pencil skirt and zipped it firmly closed. The skirt ended just below the knee and was so tight I could barely walk. Next came the matching tailored jacket with deeply-V'd lapels and a peplum waist that fit snugly over my hips. 

Melissa arranged the collar of my blouse and spread the parted halves so I showed off ample amounts of cleavage. She draped three gold chains of different lengths around my neck and arranged them in a cascade. She inserted gold ball studs in my upper ear piercings and large gold hoops in the lowers. A gold watch graced my left wrist, while six gold bangles chimed musically on my right. Several of my long, slender fingers bore decorative golden rings. A single slender golden chain skimmed my left ankle. 

She had me tie my hair back in a ponytail. "That will do for now," she asserted.

"But I don't have any makeup on and my hair is a mess! How can I go ANYWHERE looking like this?"

Melissa tsk-tsked with mock patience.

"Isn't that just like a woman? Sweetheart, we are going to the only place a woman CAN go 'looking like this'."

She handed me a black patent purse, then had me step into matching ankle-strap sandals. Melissa looped the straps around my trim ankles and fastened each ornate clasp with an audible "click". My lover looked up at me with a triumphant smile. It was then that I realized these were special bondage shoes; they were now securely locked in place and I would be unable to remove them! Their five-inch spike heels arched my legs dramatically, causing me to thrust out my ass and titties at the same time. Then Melissa hurried me out to the car - and directly to the beauty salon. 

Evidently, the girls at the salon had already been primed for our arrival and the nature of my visit. They wasted no time getting me in the chair...for what, I could only guess. My shoulder-length tresses were tinted once more. Long, lustrous extensions were woven in. Then, the whole of it was permed. The process seemed to take forever, but I sensed it would be worth it. In the meantime, Carmen, the nail technician, had given me a set of ultra-long, gently curving, deep crimson sculptured nails with gold stripes and a little charm on the right pinky. Carmen had opted for the stronger acrylic nails rather than silk wraps, avowing they would hold up better under the rigors of the daily office routine.

I gulped at the mention of the office - and what havoc this new 'reality' would wreak - but said nothing. Carmen did my toenails in the same blood-red hue. Dorothy, the cosmetologist, had augmented my natural eyelashes with thick, furry implants, then made up my face. Donna, the hair stylist, finished at last. My heart caught in my throat as I viewed myself - my NEW self - for the first time. My shimmering platinum mane cascaded in loose waves almost to my waist. It swayed hypnotically as I moved my head from side to side. My ivory complexion glowed radiantly. My deep-set azure eyes were shadowed with steel-gray lids and mauve highlights. My thinly-arched eyebrows were contoured with smoke pencil. My upper eyelids were outlined with bold strokes of black liquid liner and my lower lids with black pencil. My cheekbones were contoured with a dark rose blush. My lips were the same crimson shade as my nails. I adored my new look - and so did Melissa! 

As she spritzed me with "Obsession", she informed me I was now her "little blonde bimbo" - in fact, as well as fantasy - and that she had more changes in store for me. I couldn't imagine what else she could possibly have in mind. I was already more woman than man, with long flowing tresses, feminine curves, a very provocative undulation in my walk which I could no longer control and fingernails so long that I wouldn't even be able to dress myself without help.

We left the salon and returned to the car. Melissa turned out of the garage and headed uptown.

"Where are we going now?"

"I'm taking you to meet Michelle. You are in for a BIG surprise."

Michelle's office is in Lakeview, the predominantly gay/lesbian neighborhood which is the center of the Drag Queen scene, as well as the location of most of the clubs we frequented. Michelle was waiting for us when we arrived. She was seeing us before her normal office hours and we were the only ones in the office. In no time they had me stripped naked and strapped to an examination table by my wrists and ankles. Melissa softly stroked my forehead and smiled beguilingly.

"Dear, sweet Cassandra. You have made me so very happy these past months. I have already turned you into a soft, simpering sissy by pickling you with hormones. You have developed pert titties, a tiny waist, soft, curvy hips and ass, and I just LOVE your limp little clitty! It's so cute, so cuddly, so - harmless. You will never be able to function as a man again. I have had your hair, face, and nails done so you may no longer APPEAR as a man, either. 

Now, I'm going to take you even farther down the road to Femininity. Anyone who knows me knows I like my 'girls' REALLY busty. With Michelle's help, I am going to transform you into the most magnificent 'Tit Queen' anyone has ever seen! Everyone in the scene will know that I have 'marked you' as my property, which they may admire but not touch - without my permission. They will see you and know that you belong to me. Are you ready, my lovely one?"

Michelle began by making a series of injections with a local anesthetic in a circular pattern around the base of my blossoming breasts to prepare them for this next and most outrageous step in my transformation.

"Just lie still," Melissa cooed. "Everything will be fine. You won't believe what you are about to see."

She stroked my forehead gently with her left hand and held my hand with her right. I watched with apprehension and fascination as Michelle inserted the large hypodermic needle again and again in the same pattern around each of my anesthetized breasts, pumping large quantities of silicone into the soft tissue. I was amazed at the sight of my breasts swelling up like twin pyramids before my eyes.

"That's my good girl," Michelle purred. "You are going to be such a BIG girl now. Here, let's undo your restraints. It's too late for you to resist now. Stand up, Sweetie - let's do your hips next."

I obeyed her command without hesitation. Michelle pumped my hips and tush, then cleaned off my lips and cheeks and pumped them for good measure.

When Michelle had completed her treatment, Melissa helped me to get dressed. I discovered I now filled my bra to overflowing without the silicone pads. My skirt had become even more snug in the hips and ass as well, a sign of my augmented curves there. As I slowly, lovingly reapplied my base, blush, and lipstick, I noted my cheekbones had swelled alluringly and my lips were fuller, plusher, poutier. I spritzed on more "Obsession". 

I was entranced with my new look, as was Melissa. The overall effect was a young, sexy office girl, eager to please and "on the make". "Perrrfect, Sweetheart," Melissa trilled. "My girlfriend is FINALLY ready for her first day at the office." "But how can I go in looking like this?", I pouted. "I'll be fired the moment I walk through the door." "Relax, Sissy-girl," Melissa cooed, kissing me lightly on the cheek. "Everything will be JUST FINE."

My stomach did little flip-flops in the car as Melissa drove me to work. "Stop fidgeting," Melissa admonished. "You are BEAUTIFUL. You have nothing to worry about." She pulled up to the front entrance, kissed me lightly on the cheek, then hustled me out the door. "Have a good day, Sweetie," she chimed musically. Then, she pulled away, leaving me to face my fear alone.

I was acutely aware of every little nuance of my outrageous femininity as I minced up the front walk in my tight skirt and skyscraper stilts. My hair swished around my shoulders and back. My titties bounced. My slip rustled. My hips swiveled seductively. My stockings rasped enticingly. My spike heels clicked smartly on the sidewalk. My perfume swirled around me like a misty veil. I WAS Cassandra. I was completely bound within the trappings of my outrageous femininity. I was unable to manipulate zippers, buttons, and laces with my long, curving talons; even if I tried, I could not get undressed without assistance. My spike-heeled pumps were securely locked in place, and only Melissa had the key. There was no place to hide, no way to escape. I was committed to revealing myself, my TRUE self, to everyone.

I thought I would die as I stepped through the front door - just curl up and die, right there in the foyer. Who was standing there to greet me but Grace Rogers! My mind was racing, trying to string together some coherent pattern of words to offer as an explanation, but nothing would come out. Grace smiled warmly, offered her hand and spoke.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Miss Santee. May I call you Cassandra? I have heard so much about you, I feel as if I have known you for years! My name is Grace Rogers. I am the Office Manager here at Barnes and Bidwell. We had anticipated having to get a temporary replacement for our receptionist while she is out on maternity leave, but we hadn't anticipated her having her baby six weeks early. It was an emergency; she went into labor at eleven o'clock last night. 

I was beside myself all night, worrying about who we could possibly find in time to fill in. Even a Temp agency couldn't have helped us on such short notice - and we have important clients scheduled to come in today and all this week! Then Gwen in Human Resources suggested we contact you. She touted your easy familiarity with Centrex, Outlook, and Microsoft Word, warm, effusive personality, and reminded me you were close friends with many of our staff and were already familiar with our business and procedures. She insisted you weren't just a 'good fit'; you were a PERFECT fit! When she hinted you might be available right away, my heart skipped a beat! 

I am SO glad she was able to lure you away from your previous situation. I Promise we will make it worth your while! Might I add that you are absolutely lovely as well? Gwen said you were attractive, but I could not have hoped for better. You will make a stunning first impression of our company to our guests. Gwen has already taken care of your paperwork, although there will be some forms for you to sign later today. We will need you for at least two months, possibly more. With your credentials, I can offer you a starting salary of $25,000, although I suspect neither will be a limit to your tenure or potential here at Barnes and Bidwell. I hope these terms will be satisfactory to you, and that you are as excited to be here as we are to have you. In the meantime, won't you follow me to your work station?"

If I had been at a loss for words before, I was stunned speechless now. I - Cassandra - had been expected...and there was a position waiting for me! As soon as Grace mentioned Gwen's name, I knew who had "greased the wheels". But how had all of this been arranged in a little over an hour, unless Melissa...Wait a Minute! Gwen and Melissa had been thick as thieves last night! I smiled knowingly.

"This will be your station, Cassandra. You will answer phones, receive our guests, coordinate with the departments they are visiting, schedule conference rooms, handle some light Word Processing duties, accept deliveries, contact the persons to whom they are addressed, and so forth. We already have someone to sub for you while you are on break. Gwen promised to take you around later and introduce you to anyone you don't already know. 

One more thing. You are a VERY attractive young woman, and 'boys will be boys'. Our company has a strict policy regarding sexual harassment. If you receive any UNWANTED advances, or any comments at all which you regard as offensive or abusive, let me know IMMEDIATELY and I will deal with it. Now that that situation is under control, I have one other crisis to deal with. One of our Senior Systems Analysts also went on emergency medical leave last night and isn't expected to return for a long time...but why am I bothering you with all this? Let me or Gwen know if you need anything. Cassandra, may I say it is a PLEASURE to meet you in person at last?"

Fortune smiles on the foolish. GRACE KNEW ALL ALONG AND SHE COMPLETELY ACCEPTS ME. I expected to be tarred and feathered. Instead, I have a job - as a Girl - for two months, maybe more. I fell into my new role easily. For the rest of the day, there was a musical lilt in my soft, sexy voice as I answered the telephone, a big, beaming smile on my face as I welcomed visitors to our company and an alluring wiggle to my walk as I moved daintily in my bondage outfit. This was like a vacation; no, more like Paradise. No schedules. No heavy workloads. No convoluted program logic. No flaming egos. No impossible deadlines to meet. Just answer the phone, make nice to the people who come in, enjoy my breaks with my girlfriends, and be as pretty and sexy as I can be. The money was a lot less, but with Melissa supporting me, I didn't need more. Is this a great country, or what?

I was in for some good-natured ribbing when the girls and I met for lunch. They gossiped cattily about the new "office bimbo with the big boobs" as if I weren't there, commenting about her heavy makeup, showgirl hair, and long, curving "talons". They clucked at how she shamelessly flashed her boobies through her obscenely-sheer blouse, wondering aloud how she EVER managed to move around so gracefully in that TIGHT skirt and such IMPOSSIBLY-high heels! They opined that a "slut" like that, dressed to kill as she was, was just BEGGING for some hot-blooded stud to pull her into the storeroom and ravish her!

"I hear Grace gave the little trollop the standard spiel about harassment and told her to report any UNWANTED advances."

"Hmpf! That means the little hussy won't be saying a thing - and I SO wanted to hear all the juicy details!"

I laughed with them, but I was excited by the prospect. Word about the "hot new blonde in Reception" had spread like wildfire and several men had already found some reason to come to the Reception Desk this morning and introduce themselves while they were there. If anyone beside Grace and my girlfriends knew who I was - rather, who I had been - they gave no indication. I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I was free to be as feminine, pretty, and sexy as I could be!


I felt so natural now, sitting here with them. I mused out loud wasn't it convenient that Debbie Bishop's baby picked this precise time to pop out, and that I hadn't heard she was having ANY problems with her pregnancy? "Neither had I," cooed Gwen, "until I called her when I got home last night. When I informed her that she had just gone into labor, that she was leaving for the hospital RIGHT AWAY, that I would clear everything with Grace, and that I was CERTAIN the insurance would cover EVERYTHING, damned if she didn't feel those contractions coming on THAT INSTANT!" 

We laughed aloud over Gwen's bon mot. She continued, shaking mirthfully. "Actually, I fear she WILL have a problem pregnancy. I'm guessing that these contractions will turn out to be false labor. In fact, I'm betting she will suffer horribly for, oh, another six weeks, sitting at home, scarfing down pickles and ice cream, watching all the talk shows and soap operas, before the baby actually comes. I don't expect her back for AT LEAST three months, if then." We laughed hysterically, tears rolling down our cheeks. When we had all recovered sufficiently, Gwen raised her Pepsi can for a toast. "Welcome to 'The Circle', Cassandra. This time, it's for real. And it's ABOUT time." I blushed as everyone clinked Pepsi cans, amid murmurs of "Hear, Hear".

Melissa was there to pick me up at five o'clock. Butter would have melted in her mouth.

"Well, Sexy, how was your first day on the job?"

"As if you didn't know!"

"Save it for later. Let's go to dinner and celebrate!"

We went to a nice restaurant for dinner. We had champagne to toast my "coming out", got a little tipsy, and didn't return home until after nine. As we pulled up, I noticed an unfamiliar black Corvette parked out front. A tall, good-looking boy stepped out and approached us. It was Todd, the boy I had danced with the night before! Melissa snickered.

"Well well, look who's here. Did I REALLY give him our address and phone number and tell him you were just DYING to see him again tonight, but were too shy to say so? I must have been drunk!"

I looked from Melissa to Todd, then back to Melissa, uncertainty in my eyes. Melissa smoothed down the lapels of my jacket, kissed me lightly on the cheek, and cooed in my ear.

"Run along now, Sweetie. Have a good time. I know you want him; we girls can tell. When you get home, you can tell me all about it!"

Todd took me to a different club for drinks and dancing. I had received admiring glances in public before, but I was not yet accustomed to turning every head as I entered a room. After some initial uneasiness, I warmed to the attention, the man, and the moment. As we danced, I felt so small and helpless in Todd's powerful arms, even though my high heels made me nearly as tall as he. He placed one hand on my rounded asscheeks and pulled me against him. I felt the surging swell of his Manhood pulsing against me. He felt so BIG! I felt faint. My nipples hardened into two erect nubs, clearly visible through the sheer fabric of my blouse.

Todd guided me back to our secluded corner table, where a bottle of champagne awaited us. We sipped and made small talk until the bottle was empty. My date casually fondled my breasts, pinching my hyper-sensitive nipples. He was making me so horny! I massaged his hard-on through his pants until he was panting and I could feel his wetness. He kissed me ravenously and I kissed him right back. We couldn't get out of there fast enough. We sped off into the night with him working the car's stick shift - and me working his!

We arrived at Todd's place. I whispered into his ear to go into the bedroom, turn down the covers, and wait for me. I went to the bathroom, freshened my lipstick, spritzed some more perfume, plumped up my boobies, then made my Grand Entrance. I slinked into the bedroom like a prowling tigress, swishing my hips provocatively. I made him undress me slowly, drawing out the sexual tension. When he removed my panties and my tiny shemale clitty sprang into view, I thought he would die. Rather than being repulsed, his cock swelled another inch! 

I made love dressed in corset, hose, and heels. I couldn't remove the shoes anyway, and the corset felt like part of me after all the months I had been tightly-laced. And oh, how Todd was turned on by my sexy 'trousseau'! I expertly sucked him to one shattering orgasm, only to have him hard again and pumping my shemale 'pussy' shortly after. I must have come a half-dozen times before he gushed his spunk into me like a fire hose. I quivered in rapturous delight as his dong pulsed its heavy load into my nether regions.




Cassandra Ch. 01



Later, I went to the bathroom to touch up my makeup. I inserted a tampon into me to make sure I didn't soil my panties - and to hold Todd's seed within me a while longer. After all, it was my 'first time' - I wanted the feeling to last as long as possible! I returned to the bedroom and had Todd dress me. I was amazed at how quickly he jumped to please me - and how easily I assumed the superior position. This big, strong, macho guy was like putty in my dainty hands as I casually directed his ministrations. He drove me home seemingly at the snap of a finger. I cupped his crotch with my hand, not so much to turn him on as to remind him that he - all of him - was mine to do with as I pleased. I loved this new feeling of power!



Cassandra Ch. 02



The days and weeks seemed to fly by. My new position at Barnes and Bidwell was a dream come true. It provided me with a cute income to cover my personal expenses (Melissa took care of most everything), exactly fit my bubbly, flirtatious personality, and offered me unlimited opportunity to meet - and have - men! 

Melissa did everything in her power to reinforce my bizarre new lifestyle as a nymph. We went to the salon every week and Melissa made certain every thing about me, from the crown of my hair to the tips of my long, curving talons, was perfect. About a month after my "coming out", Melissa took me back to Michelle for another treatment. I was overjoyed with my bigger titties, swelling hips and tush, prominent cheekbones and bee-stung lips. "Don't get too fond of this size, My Love," Melissa cooed. "You are going to be a LOT bigger!" 

She dressed me each morning, taking great delight in fastening my corset around my torso and lacing my already-slender waist down to a handspan. My lover personally selected the outfit I would wear, making sure I wore only the sexiest, most shamelessly revealing dresses, skirts, blouses and suits with stockings and five- and six-inch stiletto heels. She would stand over me at the vanity and lovingly direct me to paint and primp in a style befitting a Trailer Trash Tart, reminding me of all the effort she had gone to transforming me into her "little slut" and that I had to look and act the part.

And act the part I did. I played the "office bimbo" to the hilt. I flirted with all the men, flashed plenty of boobflesh, wiggled my hips suggestively as I walked by, and traded less-than-subtle sexual innuendoes. When the bolder ones fondled my nearly-bare boobies or firm, rounded ass, I cupped my hands over theirs, partially closed my heavily-made-up eyes and let out a sigh of contentment. 

It didn't take long for word to spread around the office that the new receptionist was very "receptive". The storeroom really DID get a workout - as well as a few private offices. I was always "saving my pussy for my lover", but only too willing to give them a blowjob or bend over and take it up the ass. In no time I had all the men wrapped around my little finger. They were SO nice and considerate to me and all the other girls; I "suggested" they had better be if they wanted to go "In Conference" with me.

I didn't hesitate to "kiss and tell", relating my amorous adventures to my girlfriends. They gave me no end of good-natured "grief" over the wanton slut I had become. Even so, they demanded every last, juicy detail of my trysts. I suspected they were living vicariously through me, reveling in forbidden passions and pleasures they wouldn't dare pursue themselves. 

"I can't believe Melissa lets you get away with this," Suzie clucked, looking me up and down with mock disapproval. 

"LETS me," I replied with a wink. "She MAKES me!" 

"It's as though she is TRYING to turn you into a whore," Gayle observed. "Is that what you want?" 

I smiled, lowered my heavily made up eyelids, re-crossed my stockinged legs with a slight rasp, and slowly, expressively thrust out my swelling breasts. My hard nipples showed plainly through the thin, shiny fabric of my blouse. The eyes of every male in the cafeteria were on me. 

"Never mind," Gayle sighed. "I think I got the idea." 

"But have you noticed how well-behaved all the guys have been towards us lately," queried Gwen. "I haven't had even a HINT of a lewd advance in weeks."

"Of course not! They're getting all the pussy they want, thanks to our little strumpet here," chirped Beth with a wink. "And we get to hear all about it afterwards. It's almost like being there!"

I suppose it was inevitable that Grace would call me into her office one day for "a little chat". She was very cordial as she ushered me into her office, shut the door, and offered me a chair next to hers. She appraised me carefully, taking in my dazzling hair, full, firm boobies, tiny waist, blood-red talons, full, flaring hips, and outrageous makeup and attire with a long, leisurely sweep of her gorgeous green eyes. She smiled demurely.

"My, my, Cassandra, you certainly are...DEVELOPING nicely. I couldn't help but notice how provocatively you have been dressed and made up lately. You have become such an exquisite, exotic creature in such a short time. I can just IMAGINE what all the men think, with you looking the way you do. You haven't been receiving any UNWANTED advances, have you?"

"No Ma'am, not a one."

"Good! I would be furious if one of them tried to take advantage of you against your will - and in the office to boot! The company simply cannot condone that kind of behavior. I have been fully expecting to have to discipline some miscreant who stepped out of line with you. Even with our strict guidelines, someone is always getting out-of-hand. Actually, quite the opposite has occurred. 

You seem to have an incredibly calming influence on the men in the office. They have been exceptionally well-behaved with ALL the women since your arrival. They are polite, courteous, even gentlemanly. I simply cannot fathom what has gotten into them. It's almost as though they were all 'getting laid' on a regular basis. You wouldn't have any idea what has gotten into them, would you?"

"No Ma'am, I haven't a clue."

"No, I didn't think so. Still, our productivity and office morale are WAY up, compared to before you began working here. Perhaps it is just the way you 'dress up' the office that inspires them. Whatever it is, keep up the good work. 

In fact, you might be in a position to help this company immeasurably. I have received so many glowing compliments about you from our visitors. Many of them are important, influential executives from companies we do business with. These are men of considerable power and stature in the business community, men who are accustomed to being treated with respect and consideration. So much depends on keeping them satisfied with the attention to detail our company provides. In today's business climate, that not only means millions of dollars in revenue, but sometimes the difference between survival and failure. You understand what that means, don't you Cassandra?"

"Yes Ma'am. It means everyone's jobs would be on the line."

"You are so BRIGHT! I knew you were a perfect fit for this company the minute I laid eyes on you. As I was saying, we need to keep these men happy. As is the case with other corporations, we provide certain... amenities and creature comforts for our special guests to let them know we do not take their patronage for granted. A little pampering here and there is not too much to provide, in view of the potential returns. We maintain a hospitality suite at the Ritz Carlton to relieve them of the necessity of securing their own accommodations - which would almost certainly be less convenient or less comfortable. We also maintain a chauffeured limousine at their beck and call. 

Cassandra, I want to assign someone from the office to act as a kind of 'special liaison' to these VIP's when they visit us. I want someone who is attractive, intuitive, personable, a real 'people person' who has an instinctive feel for the wants and needs of our special guests and the ability to satisfy them. I thought of you immediately. Your duties as a receptionist make you a perfect choice. We will just...expand your duties a bit. 

You will accompany our guests around the company, making sure they are comfortable and their needs are attended to, escort them to lunch or perhaps dinner - at company expense, of course. Naturally, we will arrange coverage at the reception desk in your absence and provide you with suitable compensation, should your services be required after regular business hours. The most important matter is to give your undivided attention to our clients' needs. Of course, I would NEVER ask you to do anything that was against your principles, but if you could, uh, satisfy any of their requests which you deem... REASONABLE, this company would be GREATLY appreciative."

"You can count on me, Ma'am."

Grace beamed a brilliant smile. She stood and offered me a hand up.

"Splendid! I knew I could. Oh, and one more thing. PLEASE don't call me Ma'am; it makes me feel like an old woman. My name is Grace."

Her hand lingered on my arm, then slid down. She gently caressed the back of my hand with her polished fingernails. I shivered ever-so-slightly at her touch, stepped forward, pressed my body against hers, guided her arms around me, then placed my hands delicately on her lapels. "Whatever you say...Grace," I murmured softly.

I segued comfortably into my new duties. Grace would let me know a day or two in advance when a particularly important visitor would be in the office and require my "special attention". I made certain my hair, makeup, and nails were extra-special attractive that morning, then slipped into an especially-alluring outfit that showed off my charms fetchingly. I would greet our guest in the foyer and give him the "star treatment", beaming my most radiant smile, hanging on his every word, fetching him coffee and Danish, escorting him to his meeting.

A "business lunch" became almost de rigueur on these occasions. It might be expected that Grace or one of the managers would attend such a luncheon, but usually it was only the VIP and me; a chance for him to reflect on the proposals that had been presented, and for me to 'clarify' the company's position. I would make reservations at some very swank restaurant and ordered an excellent wine or champagne to accompany our meal. 

More often than not, I got pretty tipsy and snuggled up close to my "host". Without fail, his hands would begin to roam my body, causing my breath to quicken and my nipples to stand straight out. I would rub his swollen member through his pants, tell him how proud I was of my company, how important his continued business was to us, and was there ANYTHING I could do to make his stay more pleasurable? It was amazing how often - and how fast - we wound up back at the Ritz "in conference". These "conferences" could take all afternoon, and sometimes into the evening.

My life became one long, erotic voyage into the depths of submission and ultra-femininity. Each month, Melissa took me to Michelle for another treatment. I was constantly having to buy new, bigger bras. I couldn't believe how voluptuous I was becoming and Melissa showed no sign of stopping my development.

Melissa determined more radical procedures were now in order for her "little slut-slave". Body piercing had become all the rage in the scene and Melissa was eager to get me done. I received multiple piercings in my ears, nipple and navel rings, and a "Prince Albert" through the frenum of my she-male clitty. My most erotic piercing was the shiny barbell through my tongue, which drove Melissa mad with passion when I pleasured her orally. 

In addition to my night corset, my mistress began strapping my feet into a special brace apparatus she had read about in one of her bondage magazines. The braces forced my feet into high, curved arches. At first, it was very painful as my feet were arched into that unnatural position. Each night, she adjusted the straps a little tighter, making the arch a little more acute. As time progressed, my feet adapted permanently to this new geometry. Where before my feet ached ferociously after a few hours in high heels, now I wore spike heels all day without discomfort. In fact, I could no longer walk or even stand unless I was wearing the highest of heels. 

Transformed as I was, it seemed only natural when Melissa took me to a urologist colleague of hers and had my shrunken, useless little testicles removed. I didn't miss them at all, and my smaller, smoother clitty became so easy to tuck away inconspicuously. From that point on, my hormone regimen operated uncontested throughout my body. There seemed to be no end to my feminine development.

Mistress took a fancy to showing off her "pet" to her friends in The Scene. We would each be bizarrely made up and dressed, Mistress as Supreme Leather Bitch and myself as a latex or PVC slut. My scenewear was specially-constructed to proudly reveal my magnificent mammaries and plump, rounded tush to our many admirers. My wrists would be bound in padded cuffs and clipped securely to D-rings at my corseted hips. I glided effortlessly on six-inch stiletto-heeled shoes or boots. Mistress would lead me by a leash clipped to a wide collar fastened around my throat. Mistress loved to 'play', spanking or whipping me in front of an always-aroused audience. I often orgasmed spontaneously, lost in a dream world of pleasure-pain. Afterward, Mistress encouraged her friends to fondle my ripe body and frequently loaned me out to another Mistress or Master, that I may pleasure them in the ways I had learned so well.

Everyone in the office was excited about the coming of another Halloween. The company party this year was to be more elaborate; an evening affair with buffet dinner, open bar, music, and games. This was, in part, the company's way of saying "thanks" for a just-ended fiscal year, which saw sales and profits at an all-time high. There would be the obligatory costume contest, of course, but this year there was a new twist. We weren't to wear our costumes to work that day. Instead, we would go home after work, change, then come back for the party.

We each published anonymous clues in the company newsletter, distributed the afternoon of the party, hinting at who we were and what we would be dressed as. The contest involved matching the clues to the employee and correctly identifying the costume before the event. There would be prizes for best costume (of course), accurately guessing the most employee/costume combinations, and for any employee who could stump everyone.

I had bittersweet emotions about the whole affair. We received word that Debbie would return from her maternity leave on the First of November. I suddenly saw my "perfect life" coming to a rapid end. I knew that my position was only intended to be temporary, but I loved it so. I wanted it to go on forever! I didn't know WHAT I would do now. I couldn't go back to being "Matt"; physically, temperamentally, and emotionally, he just wasn't part of me anymore. I didn't really need a job - Melissa could provide for us comfortably - but I couldn't see leaving Barnes and Bidwell and all my friends. I wanted to go all out for what I perceived to be my 'last hurrah'. Melissa offered a suggestion; simple, elegant - and completely "over the top". I loved it! After hours of careful deliberation, I submitted the following poem for publication in the newsletter's contest:

"I'm not what you think, nor would ever conceive to appear before you on this All Hollow's Eve.

A name from the past will return once again Tho you'd never connect thoughts of me now and then.

A choice has been made and the die has been cast, now I'll never return to that life in the past.

A face you know well, with a form you know better, appears to you now bound within Passion's fetter.

Yet all things must pass and our lives must move on, remember me kindly when all's said and done.

The speculation over this poem began the moment the newsletter was distributed. Some thought it was me by process of elimination; they had already matched clue to name for just about everyone else. The rumors ran rampant all week what costume/character I was alluding to. The guesses ran from Jesus Christ ("She made references to the Second Coming and The Passion"), to the ghost of Jacob Marley ("He was pretty passionate about the chains that bound him; remember that wail?"), to the reincarnation of Marilyn Monroe ("That's a no-brainer." "Nah, it's too obvious." "So? What's subtle about HER?") Some hopeless romantics read way too much between the lines and announced with Absolute Certainty that I would be dressed as Jesus, but had gotten engaged and would be showing off my "rock". So much for Conventional Wisdom.

Melissa and I arrived fashionably late for the party. The drinks had already been flowing and everyone appeared to be in a festive mood. We love to "make an entrance", and really out-did ourselves this time. We wore matching floor-length black velvet capes and each wore a half-mask that covered only the features on the upper half of the face. Melissa's mask was black kidskin and resembled a cat's face, with pointy ears and wide openings that revealed her heavily made up green eyes. My black patent mask was that of a doe; delicate, graceful, and completely at the mercy of the "cat". The buzz in the room stilled as two men took our wraps. Hushed anticipation was followed by stunned silence.

"Oh, my GOD!"

Mistress's dominatrix outfit was brief and elegant. A black kidskin bustier corset dress molded and shaped her toned body, pushing up her plump breasts and whittling her trim waist to a hand span. Matching kidskin gloves enveloped her arms from fingertip to shoulder. The dress's hem barely covered the swell of her asscheeks and an observant admirer would have no trouble discerning her bare, neatly-trimmed bush. The tops of her black, stay-up stockings were visible over the rim of her thigh-high, black calfskin boots. These magnificent boots laced up the front and perched my lover high on five-inch spike heels. Her favorite Heartwood flogger hung in its position from her chain belt, within easy reach of her gloved right hand.

Her left hand held the leash attached to the black patent collar around my neck. My costume was even more minimalist - and striking. A shiny black-patent-leather Paul C corset hugged my torso from breastbone to hip, compressing my waist to twenty-two inches. Sheer black seamed stockings caressed my slim, shapely legs from toe to thigh and were held in place by garters attached to my corset. I was perched high on open-toed, black patent ankle-strap sandals with six-inch stiletto heels. 

My arms were enclosed in black patent fingerless gloves which extended from the backs of my hands to my shoulders, leaving my blood-red, two-inch curved talons exposed. My wrists were encircled by black patent cuffs which were clipped securely to D-rings at my diminutive waist. Matching cuffs encircled my ankles and were connected by a twelve-inch chain, hobbling my gait to delicate, diminutive steps. A slim silver chain dangled between my nipple rings. My firm, bouncy DD breasts jiggled sweetly as I stepped, matched by my delicate, pierced little clitty. Even through my mask, my whorishly-done makeup stood out. No other garments or adornments spoiled the view of my magnificent body - save one. A small, plastic rectangle was pinned to my corset. It was a company I.D. card, bearing the photo and name of Matthew Monroe, Information Services Department.

They handled it very well for non-scene people. Grace broke the initial stunned silence, introducing herself to Mistress and greeting her warmly. They then turned their attention to me.

"I must say, Melissa, you have done a marvelous job transforming Cassandra. She is such a voluptuous, sensual, and very-willing creature now."

"Thank you, Grace. I have created many slut-slaves in the past, but Cassandra is the apple of my eye. She is so beautiful, so submissive, so devoted, so utterly depraved, I cannot imagine ever giving her up. Is everything prepared?"

"Yes, we set up the equipment just as you requested. I can't wait to see the show!"

Without further ado, Mistress led me to one corner of the room. An X-frame rack had been set up, and Mistress wasted no time unclipping my arms and legs an re-clipping them to the large rings at the four corners of the rack. She fanned her whip in a circular motion, repeatedly grazing my plump asscheeks with the multiple thongs. After she had "warmed" the flesh in this manner, she began to use the whip in earnest.




Cassandra Ch. 02



Cassandra woke, pressed against the soft form of the other servant. Bleary eyed, shifting restlessly, she bit down playfully, taking Lace's earlobe between her teeth. Lace stretched slowly, running her feet down Cassandra's leg, toenails scratching her smooth skin as she began to stir, pulling the velvet sheets tighter around herself in a vain bid to steal warmth from the wooden floor. "Do we get breakfast here?" Cassandra asked in a voice thick with sleep, as she nudged Lace to wakefulness.

"Food is served here at all hours; some prefer to sleep during the day, or not at all. The servants take turns cooking, and serving, occasionally. You aren't on the roster yet, I don't think. I have a shift in the kitchens later in the day. Make yourself presentable, and then we shall eat," Lace said, groaning as she pulled herself out of their nest, the stale scent of sex drifting from the velvet sheets.

Cassandra stumbled slowly through the dorm, staring wide eyed at the mess lying around her. White fur and mink covers hiding slowly writhing forms, taking their pleasure as the sun began to cast morning shadows through the darkened room. The few males present all lying supine, lust spent during the long night with each other and the females alike. She gasped, not having realized that both men and women slept together here, trying frantically to cover her naked form as one of the males, awake, leered at her passing figure.

Running towards the showers, her heavy breathing masking the gentle rustle as the man stood, following her in, closing the door behind them. He wrapped his arm possessively around her hips as he reached past her, ignoring her yelp of surprise as he turned on the overhead shower, covering them both in steaming rivulets of warm water. Cassandra whirled around as the nameless man's hands slid up her back, his member pushed up tightly between them, head leaving a trail of precum on her tummy. "How about... You wash my cock?" He growled, grabbing her hand and wrapping it around himself, grinding his member through her flaccid grip.

Cassandra bit her lip in consternation, lust flooding her loins as she whispered, "But... But... I have to shower... I need to eat. Lace is waiting for me!" Laughing, his tongue tasting her neck, running along the fresh welts left by the tattoo gun as she flinched back from the mild pain. "Lace isn't in charge here... I am. Forget her, for now. Unless you want to be assigned to serve Wreath? I hear he enjoyed his first taste of you..." He mumbled playfully as her grip tightened, fingers brushing his sack as Cassandra began rubbing him faster, determined not to return to the tattooist.

Hot spunk sprayed against the underside of her heaving breasts as he convulsed in her grip, shuddering as he reached climax by her deft ministrations. Leaving her standing in the lukewarm water, he walked off towards the changing area.

Cassandra followed, body rinsed by rose-scented water. "What do I wear? My clothes are gone... And I haven't been given any," she said meekly, talking to the broad back of the man before her, eyes tracking the ripple of muscle as he shrugged into mauve slacks and matching top.

He turned to face her, fingers absently running through her hair, feeling the moisture dripping down the strands as he squeezed gently, quiet words filling the space between them, "Let's start at the beginning, Cassandra. I am Spark, one of the servant heads. Unlike you, I am paid for my service. That is, I guess, the main difference between us."

Spark reached behind Cassandra, pulling open a mahogany wardrobe standing free just behind the change-room door. He rustled through the contents, fingers hesitating on a filmy belly-dancer's getup before settling on a skin-tight leather catsuit, filigreed along the contours with silver etched into the sleek leather, meant to enhance the figure of the wearer. "This will suit your form, and please the one you are going to be sent to, I think. Dress quickly, and run to the woods at the back of the estate. You are expected - Don't take your time, Cassandra," Spark said, leaving her standing in the middle of the room clinging to the leather outfit, wondering how to put it on.

Struggling, hopping about the room on one foot while trying to shove her other leg through the gap presented in the outfit, Cassandra huffed in frustration. She sat on the cold, tiled floor, examining the suit closely, hoping for a stretch seam to ease the process of squeezing into it. Looking into the outfit, she noticed the bullet shaped plug stitched into the crotch, its position promising movement inside her with every step taken. Grinning at her luck, she popped the plug into her mouth, saliva coating it before sliding out of her firm lips and running down her chest, pushing it into her pussy slowly.

Cassandra stood, gripping the plug tightly between her legs, lust scented sweat running between her legs as she managed to struggle into the suit, cleverly hooking the zip at the back on a convenient hook placed low down on the whitewashed wall, crouching to pull it up. Spinning in place, the mirror caught her eye. She gasped, face clouded in shock at the woman standing before her. Long legs encased in warm leather, wide hips covered in glistening silver. Wavy hair brushing against leather clad shoulders, crimson fox standing out against the snowy skin tones of her neck.

She turned for the door, laughing as she started to run through the building, body swaying, breasts firm in the leather, nipples rubbing roughly inside the sweat-slicked catsuit. Cassandra broke into the midmorning sun, hair glowing in the fresh sunlight as she sprinted for the border of the immaculate lawns, towards the shadow-dappled forest.

Ignoring the undergrowth snagging her legs, Cassandra walked slowly through the quiet woods. The trees groaned slightly in the breeze, aged trunks swaying as the canopy shifted. In the distance she could hear the gurgle of running water; her feet led her absently towards the sound, thoughts entranced by the untouched greenery surrounding her on all sides.

Mind wandering away, vapid dreams claiming her as she walked, Cassandra failed to notice the shuffle of padded feet on dried leaves following her.

Modified until humanity was but a distant dream, Azure stalked her new prey. Covered in mottled, short pale blue fur, naked but for a barely decent loincloth. Breasts swaying as she danced silently through the forest, tail swaying behind her, snarled from days without brushing.

A lilting laugh broke from her moist lips, violet eyes glinting as she pounced on Cassandra, driving her to the verdant grass growing on the banks of the small stream in a practiced move. Azure spoke quietly in her ear, amusement filling her voice. "Hey there, pretty... Sent to play with the fox today?"

Azure pushed her knee firmly into Cassandra's groin, rubbing with a circular movement as she caught her eye with a knowing grin. "They put those in all the outfits, nowadays. Boring, really. Effective, though," Azure said as she stood, watching the girl lying quietly on the mat of ferns she had rolled onto. Humming, Azure lay beside her, twining her legs around Cassandra, pillowing her head on the soft fur covering her arm as she drew close, wondering at the hesitant disquiet emanating from her.

"Were you expecting something different? Sex and sexuality is a massive part of this place. There are those that don't indulge, and others that play out fantasies wild enough to leave the sky itself cringing," Azure whispered to her, not wanting to break the tranquil peace lying over the abandoned glade.

Perspiration beading on her forehead despite the shallow wind gusting sweetly through the long grass, Cassandra began to speak, confusion clouding her voice. "I...I don't know. I didn't expect the freedom, the majesty of it all. I thought my indentured years would filled with menial labour as payment for the surgery, not... This."

Absently, Cassandra let her fingers drift through the thick mane of fur running down Azure's spine as she pondered the flecks of green swimming in Azure's violet eyes. "Not all restraints are made of leather, or chain. Sometimes, the best restraints are the ones made of finest lace, woven by the captives own mind." Azure said, catching Cassandra's other hand and wrapping her fingers loosely through hers, before standing and leading her deeper into the gloom of the forest.

As they left the small stream, Cassandra began to hear the sounds of the wilds around her, not covered by the happy song of rushing water. No longer hiding from her view, she gasped as she noticed the creatures moving around her. Men, grizzled and standing as humans, yet covered in black fur with protruding snouts and massive, hanging balls. Lithe androgynous fox-human hybrids, playfully stalking small birds in the branches above her.

Azure started to run, dragging Cassandra along behind, bumbling through the undergrowth and stumbling over small rocks, unused to moving through natural spaces. They crested a small knoll, pulling short at the lake lying deathly quiet just before them. Still water reflecting no light, surface broken only by yellowed lilies drifting on the surface, leaving not a ripple in their wake.

Azure guided Cassandra down to the shore of the murky lake, the sudden silence of the forest around them adding to the haunted feeling as she turned suddenly, forcing her lips tightly against Cassandra's, nails digging into her thighs just under her ass, barely failing to bite through the leather.

"The one downside to serving, however, is you can't look to your own pleasure, you have to look to the pleasure of others," Azure said, as she pushed Cassandra down, using her knee to push her fully to the pebbled lakeshore before straddling her face, hairy pussy less than an inch from Cassandra's wet tongue.

Cassandra moaned at the whispish feeling of Azure's tail lying heavy across her leather clad chest as she lifted her head, tongue questing for the pussy above her face as Azure dropped herself upon Cassandra's waiting mouth, tongue rubbing against Azure's clit as she began to gasp for breath, smothered by the wet pussy pressed forcefully into her face.

Azure began to grind against Cassandra's face, no longer waiting for the girl below her to bring on orgasm and instead using the rough friction and shuddering as Cassandra gasped for breath to get herself off, moaning as she felt Cassandra suddenly grip her tail with one hand, using the other to rub gently against her ass.

Pushing back into Cassandra's finger, Azure's eyes glazed over as it popped into her ass, moving gliding into her and curling slightly, leaving her nerves aflame with pleasure. Reaching forward and gripping Cassandra's hair, Azure jerked her face tight against her pussy as she came into Cassandra's mouth, sticky juice covering the girl underneath her.

As Azure stilled, mind still lost in the heady aftermath of orgasm, Cassandra began licking her clean before pushing her off gently and nuzzling up to her, nibbling her lips as their legs entwined, Azure's tail between her legs, wet where it rubbed up against her sex.

Cassandra gasped, looking up at the sun now sinking towards the west. "It feels like we have been here for minutes, but I came searching for you at mid-morning... Where did the time go?" She wondered loudly.

"Time has no meaning here, sweet pet..." Azure said, lips against Cassandra's as she spoke.



Cassandra Ch. 02



Slowly, lovingly, Mistress began laying on the lash. She kept an irregular rhythm, whipping different areas each time, that I not know when or where the next lash would fall. She stopped at intervals, fondled my breasts, my clitty, my sizzling assflesh, whispering a stream of obscenities in my ear.

"Does it feel good, Slut? Are you getting turned on? Too bad you can't see all the men watching you, lusting for you. Every, single one has a hard-on! Do you like that, Cunt? Does it excite you to know that all those men want your hot ass, want to fuck the Cunt with the big boobs, want to thrust their meat into your ass and pump and pump and pump until they flood your tush with their jism? Would you like that, Pussy-Boy? I bet you would. I bet you want nothing more than to do every man here. I think I will set you up in a conference room after we're done here. I'll have all the men come in, one by one, and fuck your mouth, fuck your punk ass, fill you up with their jism. And you know what? You will take it all and LOVE it like the good little whore you are -won't you?"

I came, thrashing and screaming like a madwoman. Mistress pressed against me, caressing my tingling flesh, cooing softly in my ear.

When I had recovered my senses, Mistress released me from the rack, re-clipped my wrists to my corset and re-attached my hobble chain. She led me from group to group, sipping champagne (pouring mine for me), conversing with everyone, encouraging them to fondle my body and examine even my most private parts. Even my girlfriends caressed me lovingly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them. Mistress let everyone know I was theirs for the having, in any way they wanted me.

And want me, they did. The Executive Conference Room became my "boudoir". I think I did just about every man in the company - and many of the women. The positions became a blur; kneeling before one man and sucking him off, bending over the conference table to take another deep inside me, leaning over Grace - who was lying on the conference table - and eating her to a thundering orgasm, climbing on top of a man in the same position and riding him to release. People would come and go freely, watching the unbelievable sex show unfolding before their eyes. I knew no shame; at last, I was free to reveal the wanton slut I was, in all my debauched glory!

No, I didn't win a prize. Nine people - my eight girlfriends and Grace - had guessed that I would be costumed as Mistress's slut-slave. I don't think any of them had guessed the extent of my depravity until they actually witnessed it with their own eyes. Even so, I won the best prize of the evening. After all the other prizes had been awarded, Grace motioned for silence and spoke:

"On behalf of everyone here at Barnes and Bidwell, I want to offer our sincere thanks to the 'entertainment committee'..."

The room exploded in laughter.

"...for their unusual and highly-creative show. This party is certainly one for the books - and if ANYONE breathes a word of this outside this office, they will be fired on the spot!"

More laughter.

"And now for a more serious note. As everyone knows, Debbie will return from maternity leave on Monday. All things must pass, and we must bid a fond farewell to our 'temp' here. But I would be a candidate for 'early retirement' if I threw away the talents of someone we have come to know - and love - so well."

This time, the laughter shook the walls.

"I have to admit I was skeptical when Gwen first approached me about hiring Cassandra. There had already been tension among some of you regarding Matt Monroe. Although I hated the thought of losing his services, his departure was inevitable. I fully expected the subsequent appearance of 'Cassandra' to be an even more disruptive influence. But we were in a bind with Debbie's sudden departure and Gwen was persistent. I was at least willing to give it a try for a little while, to see how things went. 

I wasn't prepared for the exquisite young woman I met at the door that first morning. I daresay that, until this night, many of you had no idea - and still can't believe it. In the past three months, Cassandra has proven herself to be capable, efficient, and personable; a real asset to our company. All the women in the company adore her, and the men - well, it seems she has, in her own way, single-handedly wiped out sexual harassment in our workplace. Our productivity is at an all-time high. In addition, she not only prevented two major accounts from canceling their contracts, she is largely responsible for the acquisition of three others. 

The Home Office has rewarded me with a Vice-Presidency for our outstanding performance this year, and I intend to give credit where credit is due. I am hiring Cassandra as a permanent employee. Beginning Monday, she will report to Gwen in Human Resources. I am creating a new position for her, that of 'Special Assistant for Business and Office Operations'. It sounds like a mouthful and, to be honest, we haven't quite , er, fleshed out her official job description. I don't doubt for a moment that Cassandra will find her place - and throw herself into her duties with enthusiasm!"

So my dream job - and life - WILL go on. Grace was right; "Special Assistant for Business and Office Operations" IS a mouthful. How appropriate for a girl like me. No one in the office refers to me as the "Office Slut" - at least, not openly. I would not be offended if they did. It is what I am and I am beyond shame. 

After eight sessions with Michelle, Melissa has informed me that she is satisfied with my development - at least for now. I can never be sure with Melissa. I am proud of my 44FF-22-38 figure. I wear custom-made underwire shelf bras that cradle my spectacular breasts and lift them high up on my chest - that is, unless I want even more drama and go braless. My wide hips undulate suggestively. It has become a completely natural motion, as if they had a mind of their own. 

I am cinched into heavily-boned corsets twenty-four hours a day - an absolute must to relieve the pressure on my back caused by my massive tits and six-inch heels. I have the most fantastic wardrobe of the tightest, sexiest, most revealing dresses, skirts, blouses, and business suits, all specially tailored to make the most of my ultra-womanly figure. Some - especially the suits with longer, snug-fitting skirts - are designed with Velcro closures, just like a stripper's costume! That makes them so easy to get in and out of - an absolute MUST in my position.

I have my own office in a quiet corner of Human Resources. I have a beautiful desk, plants, artwork on the walls, and a large, comfy, padded leather couch. Grace gave me my own secretary so I can keep my long, lovely nails salon-perfect. It seems I am always "In Conference" and not to be disturbed - either with an employee who "needs to take the edge off" or a client (current or potential) who requires a little "nudge" to close a big contract. I can be VERY persuasive!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is semi-autobiographical. Melissa does exist, under a different name and vocation. The details of our meeting, college affair and respective emotional 'baggage' are accurate. So, too, are the details of that first intimate dinner in her apartment when we met again. The rest, Dear Reader, I will leave to your imagination...



Cassandra Ch. 03



Cassandra stumbled through the forest, shadows racing onwards around her as dusk settled over the whispering trees. The outfit chafed her; sweat stuck inside the leather, rubbing against her skin and making walking uncomfortable. 

She considered taking off the skintight leather and walking barefoot through the forest, as the ground beneath her seemed reasonably soft, all fine moss and desiccated leaves dropped from the canopy during fall. It would also bring relief to her stretched and aching pussy, she reasoned. The plug had been in her for most of the day, and the dull ache that had started an hour back in her groin promised to become agonizing soon.

Frustrated, Cassandra stopped to unzip herself awkwardly, trying to reach the toggle nestled deep in the soft leather at the back of her neck. Hand straining at the angle, she managed to drag it down enough to loosen the upper part of the catsuit. Relief flooded through her at the taste of cool air against her chest, drying the sweat in the evening air and allowing her to breathe properly for what felt like the first time in days. 

"It can't be far... Azure told me to walk this way until I see the lights, or come across the path," Cassandra thought as she began to walk onwards again, feeling more and more lost with each passing minute.

Just as the sun began to kiss the horizon, she came across a small wood track meandering through the trees. She walked along the path slowly, with a strained gait. Oblivious to her direction, she shuffled faster as she caught the scent of roasting meat wafting along towards her on the chilled night air.

Before long, Cassandra could see lantern light shining through the greenery ahead of her, and heard distinctly human sounding voices talking quietly over what she assumed was an open fire. The voices stopped abruptly as she stumbled into the clearing, drinking in the sight before her. 

A small, ramshackle lodge built of rough logs faced onto a beaten, grassed area, dominated by a fire pit to the left. It was around this fire that the voices were coming from; two raggedly dressed men were sitting beside it staring at her mutely, grease from whatever they had been eating glistening in their beards. 

Cassandra backpedaled away from the light in sheer panic at the sound of a voice she knew only too well began emanating from the rustic, shadowed lodge. "Back for more, little girl? I was wondering if you would come looking for me... And it seems like you found a few of my friends, too. Don't worry -- They won't hurt you... Much. It's not often men from outside get to play with the girls from the estate... Looks like you are going to have a busy night!" Wreath shouted gleefully, bounding towards her, arms outstretched. 

He caught Cassandra from behind as she turned to run, grinding suggestively against her as he drooled in her ear, voice thick with drink. "You look starved, little bitch... And your hair is tangled, like a wild animal. There's food for you, on the floor. Eat the meat rinds lying around the fire... No hands!" Wreath commanded, voice brooking no argument as he shoved Cassandra down into the sand beside the men, bringing gales of mirth from them as she sobbed, swallowing the slick, sandy morsels lying around her in the dirt. 

Sudden pain buzzed through Cassandra's body as Wreath kicked her between the legs, driving the plug further into her, dragging a sob of pain and humiliation from her tired body. The men in front of her had taken out their cocks, and were stroking themselves to hardness as their legs roughly rubbed her partially exposed breasts, the rubber soles from their boots leaving light score-marks on her tender, chafed flesh. 

"Please... No... Please!" Cassandra screamed as Wreath yanked remorselessly at the zipper, pushing her around roughly in front of the men as she struggled in vain to stop him from removing the catsuit, the only thing remaining of her shredded dignity. "What was that, angel? No? Or please? I think I'll go with please," Wreath muttered as he shrugged out of his camo shorts, penis already starting to emerge from his genital slit in excitement. 

The plug pulled out of Cassandra audibly as Wreath finished fighting Cassandra out of her clothes and settled behind her, penis already nudging against her aching pussy as he forced himself into her almost completely dry. Her scream of pain was cut short as one of the men chuckled cruelly and forced her head down over his cock, the salty taste of precum filling her mouth as she gave in, supine on all fours while Wreath began to fuck her in earnest from behind. Cassandra let the movement of Wreath's hips slamming against her carry through her body, her lips sliding listlessly over the cock in front of her.

Gone in her own world, Cassandra barely noticed the dull sound of metal hitting flesh, nor the scrambling of the men in front of her as they stood and ran in abject terror, pants around their thighs as they struggled to dress themselves and get away from the hellfire apparition crouched beside Cassandra, ignoring Wreath's naked body lying tangled in his own clothes off to the side. 

Whispering to Cassandra as she combed her fingers through her knotted hair, Azure tried to keep anger from her voice at the scene she had just walked into. "It's okay, I'm here... He can't hurt you," Azure said, ignoring Cassandra's half mumbled complaints as she lifted her up, holding her steady as she guided Cassandra to the small lodge, and a bed. "Sleep, little fox... In the morning... Well, in the morning, we shall see," Azure said in a calming tone, as Cassandra fell into a deep sleep, overtired mind and abused body claiming much needed rest.

Azure stood, surveying the room around her with satisfaction. Inside the lodge was completely open plan, meant for a one night stop over on long trips to the snow-capped mountains far to the east. There was a tiny bathing area, equipped with a single shower stall and wash basin, as well as an antiquated commode for taking care of nature's dirtier duties. A simple galley kitchen and dining area completed the suite, obviously meant for a small group, no more than four, if the number of beds was taken into consideration.

Outside, Azure fetched her small bag, smiling wickedly as she thought of new uses for the toys she had meant to enjoy with Cassandra. She put the bag on the dining table inside, before going out one last time to drag Wreath in, only starting to stir and moan in pain, rubbing the welt on the side of his head left by the spade used for moving coals around in the fire that Azure had used to whack him. 

In his confused state, Wreath yielded easily to her and was soon secured by the wrists to one of the low hanging beams inside the lodge with a length of dirty hemp rope Azure had found in one of the supply cabinets.

Azure roughly shoved a gag made of old rags into Wreath's mouth as he came to, grinning at the panicked look in his bulging eyes. "You won't be abusing Cassandra anymore, sweetheart. Actually, I think she might abuse you, soon," Azure purred, as she began meticulously placing the contents of the bag out on the table in front of him. 

Wreath moaned incoherently around the gag as he saw what was being set down on the table; a little worn wooden paddle, some mean looking clamps and last of all a massive, violet coloured strap on dildo. "I meant for Cassandra to find this place unoccupied. I meant to meet her here tonight, and give her what she gave me earlier today. You changed that, Wreath. But it's okay. We will play with you, instead. If you are good, we might even let you go... Maybe," Azure said amiably, before prancing happily toward the tiny bed where Cassandra was pressed up against the wooden wall, snoring softly. 

Sneaking into the bed, Azure wrapped her arms protectively around Cassandra, dozing off to sleep with happy thoughts of revenge punctuated by the pleading moans of the man strung up at the other end of the lodge.

Morning came quickly upon the sleeping pair, throwing warm rays through the dusty window against the entwined forms slumbering in the rickety bed. Azure woke slowly, nuzzling Cassandra's neck and nipping at her earlobe to bring her awake. "Go and shower, pet, and then we can play with the toy I have waiting for us," Azure said, slapping Cassandra's rump playfully as she groaned, levering her naked body out of the bed and diving into the shower, sluicing her body with cold water, washing away the dirt and grime.

Azure sat staring at Wreath for a while, luxuriating in the feel of a successful hunt before walking over to him and ripping out the gag rudely, startling him. "Please, Azure, I meant no harm by it... Cassandra wanted it! Don't do this to me!" He said, eyes streaming tears. "You want out from the rope? Do your wrists hurt?" Azure asked wickedly, standing roughshod on his toes. "You will be our bitch, just as you wanted Cassandra to be yours, Wreath." She stated firmly as she absently picked up two of the wire clamps and cruelly snapped them shut on his nipples, pinching the skin and drawing a scarlet drop of blood.

Cassandra stood mute behind Azure, wet hair lying flat against her snowy skin. "Is that what I think it is?" She asked with a vicious grin, looking first at the strapon before allowing her gave to drift towards Wreath with wide eyed glee. 

"Let me get him warmed up for you, little fox..." Azure purred, as she walked behind Wreath with the paddle. She began to spank him slowly, aiming for the spot just below his buttocks. Wreath stood mutely, eyes wet and arms immobile as Azure worked him over, beating him with the small paddle, laughing as he flinched away from every blow. 

Cassandra slid the strapon up her legs, trying it on while Azure loosened the rope and forced Wreath to the floor, kicking his legs apart and grabbing his balls, twisting them roughly. "Be a good bitch, now, Wreath," she said, as she sat on the chair in front of him and forced his tongue onto her pussy, making him gag.

Cassandra got down on her knees behind Wreath with thoughts of vengeance running through her mind as she grabbed him by the hips and forced the head of the dildo into is anus, driving it into him with wicked delight. Wreath screamed in abject pain as Cassandra started to fuck him with a rough rhythm, pulling out slowly before ramming into him, forcing the dry ridges on the dildo to catch and scrape against the inside of his ass.

"You know, when that cock of yours is hidden in your slit, you look a lot like a girl, Wreath. I think we can help you with that... How would you like to wear my catsuit? Azure can slip a padlock through the zip before we let you go," Cassandra whispered as she started grunting, the small nub inside the harness rubbing against her clit.

Locking eyes with Azure, she fucked Wreath with more force, trying to time her orgasm with Azure's. Wreath, seeing an end to his torment, ignored the pain and slid backwards on the dildo, wriggling from side to side, trying to help Cassandra cum. Azure came suddenly, legs shuddering, hands forcing Wreath's head lower, forcing his tongue deeper into her as Cassandra jolted forward as she came, leaning over Wreath and moaning ecstatically, her thighs damp with her own juices.

Cassandra pulled out of Wreath as Azure helped the broken man to his feet and wordlessly handed him the catsuit. Laughing, she forced the plug into his gaping rear and zipped him up, locking him into the suit. "I'll keep the keys, Wreath. Get out of here," Azure ordered, pushing him towards the door. "Touch Cassandra again and I'll make sure it's a male that fucks you next time, bitch."