Unknown Waifish Model Chapter 3
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Unknown Waifish Model On Page 53 free porn video
Unknown Waifish Model on Page Fifty-three
Chapter 1
Copyright 2003 by Couture
We lay curled up to one another in the hotel bed, Sandra and I. I
looked forward to the day we'd no longer have to make do with
hotel beds and the occasional foray to my apartment. Yes, one day
soon, she would leave her bastard of a husband and move in with
me.
God, she was beautiful. Her blonde hair was mussed up, as she lay
on the pillow. Her face had the tranquil look that only comes
during sleep. She looked like an angel. I kissed her forehead and
went to whisper, "I love you," in her ear.
What came out was, "You're nothing but a whore Sandra. A piece of
shit cheating whore!"
Where did that come from? I would never say anything like that.
It was my voice, but the accent was different.
"What?" She sat up in the bed suddenly. Her eyes welled with
tears.
Why was she crying? She knew I'd never hurt her. I went to
apologize, but again, I lost control of my tongue. "You heard
me," I said. "You're a whore. A two dollar piece of shit. You've
just been a hole for me to rest my dick, but you're all played
out."
"Y-you said you loved me." She pulled the bedspread tightly
around her body and got out of bed, searching for her discarded
clothes. "We made plans."
"I used you," I said. It was my voice, but it wasn't me. I could
never sound that uncaring. "It was fun, but now it's done."
Her hurt look changed to anger. "Y-y-you bastard!" She pulled her
dress on and stepped into her heels.
"Y-y-y-you s-s-stupid re-re-retard." I mimicked as the door
slammed.
I sat there alone and in shock. What the hell just happened? It
was as if I was a prisoner in my own body. The last few weeks had
been weird. There had been blackouts, but nothing like this. Was
I going insane?
"Ha-ha-ha," I laughed a dryly. "God, this is gonna to be fun..."
***
I got the hell out of there. I would try to apologize to Sandra
later, but first I had to figure out what was wrong with me. I
needed to make an appointment to see my doctor. Was this some
form of Tourettes? However, instead of driving home, I turned off
at the mall. The problem was; I didn't want to go to the mall. I
had once again become a bystander in my own body.
It was even worse than at the hotel room. I stopped at the bank
and emptied my accounts. And somehow my savings balance had about
three times more money in it than it should have. I would have
been startled, but honestly, I was numb to everything by this
point. Then I went to the lingerie store and I bought a lot of
things. I even tried the stuff on. Dear God, I even told the
sales girl I was buying it for myself. I tried to stop myself,
but I had no control over myself or even the blush that burned in
my cheeks.
Next, I bought dresses, make-up, had my ears pierced, and visited
a hairstylist for a feminine cut. Lord, I even had my nails done.
Whoever or whatever control me was exacting a full measure of
revenge. By the time I was finished, I was two thousand dollars
poorer and looked like the biggest fag in the city. Yet, I still
had over a hundred and fifty thousand from the bank stuffed in my
purse.
When I finally got control of my body again, I drove straight
home. I was in a state of shock. I just wanted to lie down, wake
up and this bad dream be over. Instead, I took a bath. Well, I
didn't, but whatever or whoever that controlled me did. I even
shaved off all of my body hair.
After I dried, I put on some of the clothes I bought at the mall.
The women's clothes. Then I packed the rest away into a suitcase.
I stood in front of the mirror and smiled. I looked like a whore.
My lips pursed and blew myself a kiss.
"Fasten your seat belts Davie, this is where it gets good," I
said to myself.
Then I was sure of it. There was some entity and somehow it had
control of me ... totally.
I went outside and picked up the lighter fluid from my grill and
poured it all over the floor.
"Please stop, please stop. I'll do anything," I begged silently,
unable to so much as move my lips. Then I called a cab. When the
cab arrived, I put my bag of clothes in.
"Wait here sweetie," I told the cabbie. "I forgot my tampax."
I went back inside and lit the lighter fluid, then high-tailed it
back to the car.
"I want to go to 1105 Manilla Ave," I told the cabbie. "Please
hurry sugar, I'm running late."
Behind us, the smoke rose. I wanted to do anything, but I
couldn't even scream. I was a prisoner within my own body.
When we arrived at our destination, I got my bags from the car
and entered the building I had never seen before in my life. Once
I was inside, I could tell it was some sort of medical facility
based on how some of the women were dressed. I went to the
receptionist.
"Hi, my name is Chrissy. I'm here for my appointment."
"Sure, have a seat," she said. "We'll be with you in just a
moment."
I went to the waiting room, picked up a Vogue magazine, and
popped a piece of gum in my mouth.
"Eenie-meenie-miny-moe, you're gonna be a pretty ho'" I said,
inserting a fingernail about mid-way in the magazine and opening
it up to pages fifty-three and fifty-four.
I'll always remember that page and the picture of the skinny
dark-haired model walking down the runway. She had a stick
figure, long legs that went straight down. The thin fabric of the
dress was transparent, drawing my gaze to the dark pink nipples
atop her fledgling breasts. Her face was pretty, but she had a
body that was designed for fashion designers, not men. My mind
was racing. What was going on? What did the voice that was
speaking with my lips mean? I should be trembling in fear, but
instead my foot idly bobbed the heel I was wearing up and down. I
casually blew a bubble and popped it.
"The doctor will see you now," the nurse said, helping me to my
feet by my arm. "Don't worry about the bags honey, we'll see to
them."
I took the magazine in with me to the doctor's office. I prayed
the doctor would be able to shed some light on whatever condition
was affecting me.
The doctor was an older woman - petite with graying hair. She
looked very professional.
"Hi," she said, shaking my hand. "I'm Dr. Adams and you must be
Chrissie."
"Yes, ma'am," I said, while inside I screamed, 'No! No! My name
is David. Please help me!'
"Pleased to finally meet you. I really had no idea what to expect
from talking with you over the phone."
I never talked with you before, I wanted to scream. Instead, I
said, "Well, can you help me?"
"I think we can. What is it exactly that I can do for you?"
You can help me get control of my body again. I handed her the
magazine. "Can you do that?"
She looked at it critically for a moment, picked up a pen, walked
over to me, and began to draw on my face. After a moment, she
said, "I think we can come pretty close. But are you sure about
this, yes? You are certain?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said. "I'm certain."
She frowned. "This is really not typical. There's supposed to be
a wait... and counseling."
"Will this change your mind?" I opened my bag and showed her the
money.
She counted out the money I gave her and put it in her desk
drawer. "Are you certain?
"I'm positively positive."
"Okay, let's do this then." She turned and called a nurse on the
phone.
What's happening to me! I tried to scream but nothing came out.
Instead, I meekly put on the hospital gown, took a sedative from
the nurse, and was laid down on bed. Shortly, I was wheeled into
the operating room.
Don't do this! Don't do this! Whatever you are doing, please
don't do this! But my lips didn't move.
The doctor held the mask above my mouth. "Are you certain?" she
asked.
"Do it," I replied.
"Count backwards from a hundred," she said, as she placed the
mask on my mouth.
There was an evil laugh, and the strangest thing... it was coming
from me.
***
When I woke up, I was still hearing the laugh, only this time I
realized it wasn't me laughing.
"Ugh." I groaned as I tried to sit up. Instead, I puked.
A plastic container was thrust into my hands "That's it Dave, let
it all come out," someone said. I recognized the voice. At least
I thought I did, but I had only heard it a couple of times
before. Yet, there it was and I couldn't deny it. It was Sandra's
husband Phil!
"What's happening to me?" I asked. I couldn't see and I hurt all
over.
"You've just had surgery, so don't try to move. You also have
bandages over your eyes."
Was it all a bad dream? How much was real?
"Something is wrong. I can't control my body?" I croaked
hoarsely. I tried to clear my throat, but couldn't.
"What are you talking about?" Phil asked. "It must be the drugs."
"C-can I go home?"
"Sure. Let me get your stuff and then we'll go."
The nurse at the front desk tried to stop us, but I signed myself
out. I just wanted to get home where things would get back to
normal. But, when I got to the car my head started to clear. I
realized I probably should have stayed at the hospital. I was
effectively blind and there was no way I could take care of
myself in the shape I was in and the last thing I needed to do
was to leave with the husband of the wife I had been screwing, I
don't care how rational he seemed.
"Phil," I said. "I better go back in."
"I'm afraid that isn't an option anymore Chrissie. It never was."
He chuckled.
Chrissie? What was going on? What had happened?
"Wait. Let me out. Let me out right now." I tried to shout, but
it came out as a hoarse whisper.
He grabbed my head and pushed against me lips. The pain was
incredible. Something had been done to them in the clinic. I was
quickly reduced to sobs.
"Are you going to be nice," he said. I had no choice but to
follow his directions.
I nodded my head.
"Good."
He drove me and I had no idea where we ended up. I found out
later. It was back to his house, down to the basement. I was
crying and sobbing in fear. At least I was able to cry and sob in
fear. As long as I could control myself, there was hope.
"You'll only be secured while you heal," he said, while he cuffed
me to the bed. "After that, I'll let you go."
"Please let me go. Please don't hurt me. I'll never see Sandra
again. You'll never see me again... EVER."
God, how I meant it. I was more scared than I had ever been in my
life.
"Here," he said. "Let's put these heels on you. Don't you like
pretty heels? And then you'll have to be quiet and be nice,
otherwise things will go very bad for you."
How could someone who sounded so calm and rational kidnap and
abuse me as he had? The calmness scared me and I believed every
word he said. Bad for me? I had no idea what it meant, and I had
no intention of finding out. Several times during the next few
weeks I spent in the basement, whenever he left for work, I tried
to scream and shout to get someone to hear me, but all that
earned me was a gag shaped like a small penis jammed into my
mouth the next day.
"Just be patient, you don't have but a few more days before I let
you go," he said calmly.
By the end of the three weeks, I had some idea what was
happening, but I wasn't sure quite how far things had gone. I
must have had some cosmetic surgery at the clinic and he was
feeding me a daily dose of pills. I think he might have been
tranquilizing me too. He was obviously paying me back for what I
did to his wife.
"Today's the day," Phil said. "Are you ready?"
"Phil, please..." My voice had gradually turned higher. My voice
had changed through my ordeal and it was hard to reason with
someone when your voice was so high, especially when you weren't
used to it.
I felt him moving the gown away from my crotch. "Phil, please,"
let's be reasonable. I'll pay you anything you want." Jesus, what
was he going to do?
"I'm afraid you are about out of money Chrissie," he said. "So I
think we are going to have to make other arrangements."
He grabbed my penis. "Hold still, this might hurt a bit."
I struggled weakly against him. What was he, some sort of queer?
Or worse, did he plan to emasculate me in revenge? "Please don't-
aaaaaaahhhh," I cried. The pain was sharp, but centralized. I
still had my dick. "Aahhh-gggoood-jesus, that hurts." I felt
something push in and secured around my cock.
"That takes care of that bit. Now let's see what's underneath."
He cut off the bandages and helped me walk to a mirror. I was
weak from inactivity.
The image that greeted me was a shock. I cried out in shock. I
was black and blue and there were multiple scars. And the face,
the body, they weren't even mine. They belonged to the girl from
the magazine! I looked very much like her. The only difference...
I had a penis. A penis that had a silver band around it from
which hung a tiny bell. But everything else, from the pixy nose,
the high cheekbones, the full mouth, the breasts, the sculpted
abs, down to my firm bottom, was most definitely female.
"A little bruising," he said, "But on the whole Chrissie, I would
say you're looking pretty good." The bastard cupped my ass.
"Except for the breasts that is. Jeez, why couldn't it have been
a swimsuit model?"
"Stop it." I pulled away from him. "Don't come near me you
bastard. I mean it."
He smiled and sat down by the dresser. "You know Chrissie, the
whole time you were with my wife, I wanted you dead. When she
wasn't here where she was supposed to be, I would sit on the sofa
and think about her. I would wonder who my little bitch was
fucking when she should be keeping me happy and my house cleaned.
With all my being I wished I could see what she was doing... who
she was doing.
"Then one time, my wish came true. I saw her. But what I wanted
to see was who she was fucking. I couldn't because you know how I
saw her? I saw you fucking her from your very own eyes.
"I didn't believe it at first, but I discovered I could do it -
look through your eyes at will. Not a good thing... being able to
see another man screwing your wife, but then one day I discovered
that not only could I see through your eyes ... heh heh heh, I
could make you do things."
He was crazy. A lunatic. I backed to the door. Just a little
further and I would make my break. He closed his eyes, as I
reached for the knob.
Then I calmly walked back over to him. I didn't want to. I wanted
to run. The bastard was doing it. He really could control me. I
struggled to take back control, even as I knelt in front of him.
Even as my hands reached for his zipper and freed his large black
cock.
I finally got control of my body and pulled my hand off his cock
hardening manhood. I had been giving him a handjob.
"You faggot. You sick fucker," I accused.
"Faggot?" He laughed. "I'm not the one giving out handjobs."
"You made me do it. You did it to yourself."
"If you say so Sissy Chrissie. By the way, is it okay if I call
you Sissy-Chrissie?"
"Oh yeah stud," I replied in a breathy voice, once again taking
his cock in my hand and stroking it. "What else would you call a
sissy like me?"
"Maybe fucktoy," he said, and I had control back again.
I snatched my hand back off his cock.
"Awww, that was feeling so nice Sissy." He grabbed my by the ear
and tugged my face up. "Now I'm only gonna 'splain this once. You
cost me my last wife, even though she wasn't much of one anyway.
Now she's gone and yer gonna take her place whether you like it
or not. Yer gonna cook. Yer gonna clean. And yer keep me
satisfied like a good little wifie should. Yer gonna do
everything I say for a year and then I'll let you go back to
being good ol' Dave. Otherwise, I'll grab your mind and do nasty
things like this."
He closed his eyes and I grasped the silver collar around my
penis. I tugged it and splitting pain shot up my spine. "Arggg!
Oh God please," I begged, when I could speak again.
The monster opened his dark menacing eyes. "And that was only a
taste. I could make you cut it off you know. I could make you go
downtown and turn yourself over to a pimp. Make you take heroin.
I could even make you kill yourself, but that doesn't sound like
it's as much fun. So let's try again. Chrissie, it really felt
nice when you were stroking my cock."
This time he didn't enter my mind and force me, but the threat
was there. Either he would make me and do worse, or I would do it
by choice. I took a deep breath, grabbed the bastard's cock and
stroked it. Never in a million years would I ever have imagined I
would have another man's cock in my hand. It was hard and
throbbed. It was damp with sweat. The piercing in my cock
throbbed in pain. Arousal was the furthest thought from my mind.
"That's nice Chrissie. A little faster please and cup my balls.
You know how this is done, don't you, you stupid little bimbo."
He closed his eyes again. I grabbed the collar on my cock and
tugged again. Pain shot out from my cock and wracked my whole
body. I squealed and tears streamed from my eyes. When I had
control over myself again, I cupped his balls as I stroked him
with my now quivering hands. I rolled them around in my hand like
some of my better lovers had done for me.
"Now say, Daddy, Sissy-Chrissie is sorry for being such a stupid
little bimbo."
"D-daddy, S-Sissy-Chrissie is s-sorry for b-being such a -s-s-
tupid little bimbo." I knew why Sandra hated this bastard so
much. He was one evil motherfucker. But Sandra could leave and I
could not. The bastard owned me for a year. And if this was any
indication, it was going to be a very long year.
"Don't pout so Sissy-Chrissie. I think even a dumb little
cheating bimbo like you can think of a better use for those
pouting lips, can't you?"
I stared in disbelief. Surely he wouldn't. I shook my head. No -
no - no.
"When I ask Sissy question, Sissy is always to answer." He closed
his eyes.
No I couldn't bear it. Not another tug. I tried to fight him but
it was useless. My hand reached down, grabbed the piercing and
tugged. Pain wracked my body and I screamed.
"S-sissy-C-chrissie can think of a better use for her lips," I
forced out.
"That's much better, but in the future use smaller words and
sound excited. Bimbos really shouldn't try to pretend they are
smart. So what Daddy's little bimbo like to do with her lips?"
Tears streamed down my eyes. Not only of pain but from his
twisted humiliation. There was no escape from this evil bastard.
He could get into my very own mind. I tried to think of a way to
reason with him, but he closed his eyes. No, I couldn't take it
again. I couldn't allow him to make me pull on the piercing.
"Sissy Chrissie wants to suck your cock," I burst out, before he
could make me hurt myself again.
"My-my maybe Sissy's got a little brain tucked away in that
vacant head of hers," he chuckled. "Go on. *Do it.*"
I took his cock and guided it close to my mouth, but stopped just
short of my lips. I could smell the heavy scent of his sex. It
was nothing like that of a woman. I wondered if I could I really
do this? What choice did I have? But-but-there was only one
detail that nagged at my mind like a prickly thorn.
"Will Daddy really let Sissy-Chrissie go after a year?" I had to
know. I just had to. A year. A year I could take. Perhaps...
"Only a year, my stupid little fucktoy. In case you don't know,
that's three hundred and sixty-five days. And that's three
hundred and sixty-five days Sissy-slut has to wear a collar on
her clitty. That should keep her from fucking around... should
keep her from getting cocky, cause Daddy has all the cock she
needs. Now start to work you little cocksucker, before Daddy gets
mad."
His cock was much larger than mine, I realized as I moved closer.
I slid the mushroom like purple head into my mouth and sucked. It
tasted partially of sweat and there was a hint of something more
bitter. Dear God, it was official, I was now a cocksucker.
He pulled me off by my hair. "You take the cake for stupidity.
Even the dumbest slut knows ya' gotta lick it first."
Bastard. Didn't he know how hard this was for me? "I'm sorry," I
muttered.
He grabbed my nose and pinched. "Not I, Sissie-Chrissie can't
help being such a stupid bimbo. Now, say it and lick my balls."
Sick fuck! This was going to be hell. The longest year of my
life. "S-sissie- Chrissie can't-can't help being such a stupid
bimbo." I licked his balls. They tasted even more salty than his
cock. Only one of the women I had dated had ever done that for
me. She was a slut - what I called easy at the time. I guess I
was too. There was no way to escape it. At least for a year.
I licked my way up his shaft, pulled his foreskin back and licked
the head. I wanted to puke. My distaste had to be written all
over my face.
"Mmmm-that's nice," Phil said. "I guess you know how to do
something right."
I began to move up and down his shaft, sucking him, wanting to
puke. I hated it. I hated him. I massaged his balls. I just
wanted him to cum as quickly as possible, so I could it over
with.
He reached down and pinched one of my already sore nipples. I
squealed around his cock.
"That's better. Let me hear some noises and slurping. Daddy's
getting real tired of havin' to tell his little fucktoy to do
everything."
I moaned. I slurped. I bobbed faster and faster. I could feel his
prick growing larger and harder. His balls drew up. God he was
large. His cock stretched my lips and banged against the back of
my throat. I kept a hand around his shaft to keep from choking.
It pulsed in my mouth.
"Ugh," he grunted and I felt the first spurt in the back of my
mouth. I tried to pull off, but he held me fast.
"You know better," he groaned, his cock spurting again and again.
"Suck ...suck ...ahhh suck it all."
I kept sucking until he was spent. The flavor was horrible. I
wanted to gag. Instead, I swallowed. I knew I had to. Finally,
when it was over, he let go of my head so I could lift up.
"Now, lick it clean," he said.
I thought about rebelling, but he closed his eyes, which probably
meant that he was going to punish me if I refused. I steeled
myself and began lapping at his cock. The cum was sticky and it
was harder than I imagined to clean the congealed cum from his
cock.
"That was real nice Chrissie, but I had to tell you to do
everything. You're going to be my little wifie for a year. That
means you are supposed to volunteer to do nice things to please
me. And you're gonna hafta start smiling and acting like you
enjoy it ... just like a real wife."
"Yes Daddy." I managed to force a smile to my lips and wiped the
tears from my eyes. It was going to be a long year.
To be continued...
Blaze
- 27.02.2021
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