Crossing the Boundaries
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Swift Justice: Crossing The Boundaries 2 free porn video
WARNING: Transgendered characters (under 18), adult themes,
spanking. Rated R.
Swift Justice: Crossing the Boundaries 2
By Transfemme
"Hold it RIGHT THERE young man!!"
Alex Fairfield froze in shock, eyes swivelling towards the
living room door. A cold finger ran the length of his
spine: he knew that tone, recognised the naked anger in his
Aunt's voice. It was a tone he'd come to fear over the past
three years, one he'd learnt to treat with the utmost
respect. His pulse leapt into overdrive as the adrenalin
hit his bloodstream. He was in trouble this time.
Enormous trouble.
Literally breathless with surprise, Alex turned to face the
tall, green-eyed virago looming in the doorway. Julia
Conway stood with her hands straddling her wide hips, face
simmering with rage and relief. Relief because her wayward
nephew had finally arrived home; rage because it was two-
thirty in the morning.
"Where have you been?" Julia demanded, her words slicing
the air like a razor.
Alex flinched like a frightened child, his mind whirling
with panic. Aunt Julia wasn't just angry. She was utterly
furious. Her eyes sparkled with emerald fire, her mouth was
a taunt red line. Alex could almost feel the heat radiating
off her in blistering waves. He wavered before that
scalding gaze, frantically searching for an excuse, an
escape route; some pretext by which he could evade imminent
justice.
Nothing much came to mind.
She'd caught him red-handed, after all. All his lies and
schemes and covert little deceptions had come to nothing:
she'd snared him with an almost contemptuous ease, laying
her trap with the confidence of long experience. What had
he been thinking, sneaking in through the back door like
some rank amateur? She was a barracuda trawling the depths,
he was a minnow frolicking in the shallows. He'd under-
estimated her intellect, and the mistake was going to cost
him.
Dearly.
"I assume you know what time it is," Julia said, striding
into the hallway with a menacing, determined step, "I've
had the police out looking for you since midnight, Alli!"
"The police?!" Alex cried, his voice high and thin, "Aunt
Julie, you didn't..."
"Yes I did. They weren't terribly impressed - and neither
was I. I've warned you before about your curfew. Ten-thirty
by the latest - no exceptions."
She halted two paces from the boy, her slim, pantherish
figure framed in a rectangle of fluorescent light. Her
glare could have felled a Minnesota Bull. Alex wilted in
open dread, knowing what was coming next.
"B-but it w-wasn't my fault, Aunt Julie." he stammered,
falling back from that livid, unforgiving gaze, "I just d-
didn't..."
"I don't CARE what your excuse is," Julia cut him off, her
voice rising by at least two decibels, "if you're late, you
call home! That's the rule, Alli - and you know it!!"
Which was true. She had drummed this precept into him every
week for the last three years, ever since he'd first come
to live with her. There was no room for misunderstanding
under Julia Conway's roof. Lower lip wobbling in dismay,
Alex found himself reduced to the status of a pleading
child.
"Please Aunt J-J-Julie," he began, desperate to avoid the
punishment he could feel looming over his head, "I'm ruh-
really s-sorry..."
"Not as sorry as you're going to be!" Julia interrupted,
dismissing the boy's apologies with an impatient wave of
her hand, "I think it's time you were reminded who sets the
rules in this house. Now - up to your room and change out
of those clothes. I'll be along to deal with you in ten
minutes."
Alli's mouth flopped open. The verdict had been reached,
his worst fears confirmed.
"No, no, PLEASE Aunt Julie," he wailed at the top of his
lungs, "I don't want a SPANKING!!"
"Well, a spanking is exactly what you deserve," Julia
replied, her expression literally blazing with threat, "Now
GET UPSTAIRS and GET CHANGED. You know what to do."
"Aunt Julie -"
"RIGHT NOW!!" Julia roared, stabbing a lean (and rather
muscular) arm towards the staircase.
She'd had it up to HERE with his disobedience, his
dishonesty, his malicious, lying deceit. Here he was,
skulking around the house at TWO-THIRTY in the morning,
crying innocent and reeking of Jim Beam. Did he think she
was an idiot? Came down in the last shower? By God, she was
going to teach him the lesson of a lifetime!!
Alex fled up the stairs, choking back his tears like a
little girl. Julie was going to SPANK him: pull his pants
down and paddle his bottom the colour of a maraschino
cherry. He knew from prior excursions over her knee that
the pain would be excruciating. His aunt was a world-class
spanker, having had years to perfect her technique on his
smooth, defenceless hynie. Hardly a month went by when she
didn't turn him over her knee and tan his errant young
cheeks with her wide, steely hand. The knowledge of his
impending punishment had him weeping with fright. Could
there be anything worse than a hot, throbbing bottom?
Actually, there was. As Alex had discovered on numerous
occasions since he'd first moved in, three years before.
Aunt Julie was a most formidable woman; strict,
uncompromising, and completely self-assured. Undisputed
mistress of her domain, her decisions were both ruthless
and intractable, particularly where matters of discipline
were concerned. She had established a strict regimen of
conduct governing the boy's behaviour, under which the
slightest transgression would be met with the most
HUMILIATING of penalties.
(Alli. she called me Alli)
Yes, there was something far worse than a well-smacked
bottom, something he detested from the very core of his
being. The paddlings were bad enough, an embarrassing,
juvenile form of correction that he sought to avoid at all
costs, but he would have gladly endured a DOZEN spankings
if he were allowed to face them like a man... so to speak.
(GET UPSTAIRS and GET CHANGED!!)
Sobbing with apprehension, Alex burst into his room and
made straight for the bed, his large, blue eyes moist and
glistening. His mind was groping for a way out of this
nightmare. Even now, with his punishment only minutes away,
he still clung to the hope of a suspended sentence. A
slender hope at best (virtually non-existent, in fact), but
better than none at all. Maybe an outright admission of
guilt would sway his Aunt's irreversible judgement. Maybe a
heart-felt, tearful confession would lead to some less
severe alternative. Maybe Granny Fairfeild's prize porker
would sprout wings and fly to Wisconsin for the summer.
All hope evaporated as Alex approached the bed and saw what
had been left for him. A warm, moist flush engulfed his
belly as he stood looking down at the dainty, fragile
things laid out on the duvet. He should have known what to
expect, should have seen this coming. He knew his Aunt well
enough to have second-guessed her, at least in this regard.
The bed was covered with girl's clothing.
Alex backed slowly away, his head reeling with adolescent
misery. It wasn't enough to turn him over her knee like a
naughty five-year old, not by a long shot. Aunt Julie
believed that humiliation was the best deterrent.
Subsequently, his spankings were a treadmill of disgrace; a
degrading, shameful ordeal few boys his age could even
imagine. She was determined to leave him without so much as
a shred of masculine dignity, to shatter his ego like some
fragile, scintillating mirror.
(She called me ALLI)
And Alli was not a boy's name. It was the name she'd given
him. The one he'd been forced to accept after he'd moved in
with her. Along with the dresses and tights; the bangles,
blouses and lacy white girl-socks. There was the truth of
it: three years of brief red miniskirts and sheer yellow
sun frocks had transformed him into a mincing little sissy.
Julia had coerced and manipulated him over the past thirty-
six months, gradually eroding his frail, teenaged psyche
until he'd begun to doubt his own gender.
It was so unfair, so unjust. So wrong. He hated being
treated like a little girl, hated having to dress up in the
gleaming, satin underthings Julie insisted he wear beneath
his day clothes (even if it sometimes left him gasping with
excitement, something which occurred far too frequently of
late), hated the lipstick and the make-up and the endless
platoons of Barbie-dolls lining his closet shelves.
More than anything else, he hated the spankings!!
Embarrassing beyond description, they were the ultimate act
of submission, a complete surrender of his incipient
manhood. If only he had the courage to stand up to her,
summon up the nerve to defy her commands. He often
fantasised about casting off his shackles; facing her down
and emerging triumphant in this incessant battle of wills.
Unfortunately, Alex knew that was never going to happen.
Refusal was not an option, never had been. The mere threat
of a hot, throbbing bottie was enough to reduce him to
tears. She was so much stronger than he was, so confident
and powerful. He'd come to accept her dictatorial presence
in his life years before (just as he'd accepted her love
and sometimes amazing generosity). The spankings were
inevitable, unavoidable, a consequence of his own natural
timidity. He would simply have to live with them.
Whimpering in dismay, he took off his denim jacket and
started unbuttoning his shirt. She's given him ten minutes
to get ready, he couldn't afford to delay a moment longer.
He had to be sitting obediently on his bed by the time
Julia arrived; a sorry little girl awaiting a well-deserved
spanking. If she caught him wearing so much as a stitch of
male clothing, she'd be sure to add an extra minute or two
to his sentence.
Hastily kicking off his baggy blue Levis, Alex took down
his shorts, shivering more from dread than cold. The
enormity of his punishment filled his mind; he could
already see himself spread over Aunt Julie's lap with his
buttocks raised and his underwear banded 'round his knees.
His delicate, lace underwear. The image literally dominated
his consciousness. Alex could think of nothing else: he was
going to be SPANKED in girl's panties!!
(Noooooooooooooo!)
Tossing his jockey-shorts into the corner, Alex turned back
to the bed, pausing to study his reflection in the
dressing-table mirror. Stripped of his denim vestments, he
was a slender, petite youth with a slight figure and fine,
blond hair cascading down to his waist. His soft, babyish
features were so effeminate that he could easily have
passed for a girl of thirteen. This ethereal appearance was
further reinforced by melting blue eyes and lush, pouty
lips. Julia had once described him as the prettiest boy
she'd ever seen. This was no exaggeration; visually
speaking, Alex Fairfield was poised on the absolute cusp of
gender.
It wasn't simply his delicate bone structure, which lent
Alex his girlish characteristics. His body had developed a
number of androgynous features in recent months; faultless,
translucent skin the tone of snowy alabaster, sleek,
curvaceous hips and a waistline Kate Moss might have
envied. He even had a pair of tiny ripening breasts, little
more than rudimentary nubs protruding from his chest, but
virtually perfect in shape and proportion. They were his
most closely guarded secret. Alex had gone to extreme
lengths to keep them hidden from everyone he knew,
particularly at school. If his classmates ever found out,
the mockery - the harassment - would never cease. He'd have
to go live in a cave and grow turnips.
(Needless to say, it was impossible to keep any secret from
Aunt Julie, whose intuitive powers bordered on the
supernatural. As a matter of fact, she hadn't been even
vaguely surprised by this bizarre quirk of biology. Had
almost seemed to be expecting it, truth be told.)
I'm NOT a girl, he wept silently, looking away from the
mirror and returning his attention to the articles on the
bed. He was running out of time; his aunt had sent him
upstairs to get changed, to slip into a dress and assume
his other identity. He could hear Julia moving around down
stairs, calmly preparing for the early morning fanny-
smacking ceremonies.
(She called me Alli. Twice.)
Knowing precisely how the evening was going to end, Julia
had laid out a spray of flimsy nylon undergarments on the
bed-cover. Stark naked and sobbing with anxiety, Alex
leaned in to inspect the shimmering, lace fragments she'd
left there for him, a token of his subordinate, feminine
position within the domestic hierarchy.
Neatly folded near the lower corner of the bed was a pair
of 'liquid satin' panties; glistening high-cut briefs
covered with floral trimmings. Glaringly white and gossamer
thin, they seemed innocent, pristine and achingly virginal.
The very sight of them set Alex's head spinning with a
conflicting blend of shame, guilt and... something else.
Something he simply couldn't admit to feeling. Even to
himself.
A matching white brassiere had been placed next to the
underpants, a skimpy little underwire with adjustable
straps and transparent lace cups. Julie had started him on
a training bra shortly after his thirteenth birthday, he'd
recently graduated up to an A-cup as his pseudo-feminine
physique had continued to develop.
Next to this was a bright pink halter-top and a black
cotton mini covered with flamingo-style ruffles. Alex felt
a moist heat suffuse his cheeks as he imagined himself
wearing that garish ensemble: a layered salsa dance-skirt
over shining white panties. He could almost feel the gauzy
fabric clinging to his hips like a second skin. His belly
tightened with unwilling excitement, his heartbeat
accelerated with guilty delight. Blushing to the roots of
his platinum blond hair, Alex covered his mouth with both
hands: what's WRONG with me?!
Before he could pursue this chain of thought any further,
his reveries were interrupted by the sound of footsteps.
Sharp, clocking footsteps, to be precise; glossy red high-
heels ascending polished, wooden floorboards. Alex's eyes
widened with horror, a bolt of near-hysteria tore through
his system. His time had run out, Aunt Julie was coming up
the stairs. Coming up the stairs to take him over her knee
and SPANK his impudent young bottom!!
Footsteps, stern and unrelenting, echoing ominously up the
hall: click-clock, click-clock, click-clock.
"No!!" Alli cried in sudden terror, reaching for her
panties, "No, no, no. NO!!"
To be continued.
Copyright Transfemme, 2003. All rights reserved.
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- 22.03.2022
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