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Degraded Assets, Parts 3 And 4 free porn video
"Degraded Assets"
Part 3 of 6 - "On the outside"
By Quiet Savage
"In all the above exercises, and after every exercise, please
remember to give unlimited praise to your dog. I always tell my
pupils to bring the right hand down and scratch the dog's chest
after every exercise. Dogs love this, and stay still with a
benign expression on their faces as long as you like to continue
it."
- From "Dog Training My Way" by Barbara Woodhouse
"Bunny! Bunny!" she hated him and his pet name for her but she was
obliged to respond. It was a rule, the "20 second" rule, one of many
she now labored under.
"I'll be there in a second, baby." she called from her knees where she
was scrubbing the floor.
"BUNNY!!!" good lord! He hadn't heard her. She was now in violation of
the "20 second" rule. She struggled to her feet, reset her cut offs and
halter and shuffled into the living room.
He looked up at her from the couch, ogling her. Bruce was reading
'Nascar', "Get me something to drink."
As she returned he took the drink and told her to strip down, it was
punishment time. Sometimes he would save up the infractions and punish
her all at once at the end of the day. Other times, like now,
punishment was instant. She argued that she had responded in time but
this act of "defiance" instead of helping had doubled her punishment,
20 whacks on the bottom.
Naked she docilely stretched across his lap, "Count'm out, Bunny."
"One... two... three..."
Being naked like this, being totally exposed, reminded her of another
time she was naked and exposed - the first day she was being forced
into her new life.
===
She was lying across Kate's desk naked, ass sore from its first reaming
by her new "husband", Bruce. Bob Cone was blabbering on but she
couldn't focus on his words...
"Why all the weeping? I've heard of women crying at weddings, but your
own? This is the first day of the rest of your life! But you shouldn't
feel too bad, many girls feel a profound sense of loss when they first
become a woman."
Of course, Missy was not a woman. Just a few years ago she was Mike who
under Kate's control had turned himself into a beautiful she male.
Bob continued, "In any case, you need to compose yourself. You need to
go home with your husband. This is a place of business, no place for a
little woman like you. You should be home in the kitchen."
Bruce, now fully clothed stepped forward, "Get up, Missy, I'm taking
you home."
She reached for her crumbled dress only to have it snatched away by
Bob, "You won't need that, just yet."
He tossed the dress to Bruce, "Take her out like this, bare ass naked.
I want everyone to see what's going on, I want them to know the score."
Bruce put his strong arm around her and walked her to the elevator,
defeated, she offered no resistance. There were audible gasps as the
office doors opened - there in the lobby were customers and fellow
employees all shocked to see the naked woman with a penis. Missy's face
was flush; her eyes never came close to approaching the horizon line.
Silently they walked past a dozen people, Bruce's arm pushing her the
whole way. She was at least relieved that the elevator came quickly and
no one was on board.
For weeks the office was a buzz about the incident, no one knew exactly
what happened and speculation ran rampant; it was just one of those
weird things that happens. It the end it boiled down to the one thing
everyone knew for sure - so Missy was really a dude? Wow. No one was
able to make the connection between Mike and Missy, then again, there
was no real reason to. The women all laughed about it, they had always
known that there was something different about her they told each
other. Some women were very cross, very cross indeed, with Missy. Here
they had to go to spin class three times a week, or else had to try to
get over themselves by reading such trash as _The_Feminine_Mystique_
and then this "thing", a man, had come in and shown them all up. How
did "he" get such a body? Of course, none of the women said it THAT
way, it was all hidden in platitudes and code words- "disgusting!", "a
crime on nature!" or "against God's plan!"
And the men? Some wanted to outright kill Missy for the perceived
deception she had subjected them to. At the other end of the spectrum
where the guys that still thought she was cute - as long as she kept
"it" tucked away it was alright, right? But mostly the latter kept such
notions to themselves else they fall pray to the former.
For that first month Missy was kept totally nude and chained, forced to
do house work without full use of her joints. Her exposed nakedness was
a turn on for Bruce who demanded sex from her several times a day. At
some point during that first month she stopped resisting his advances,
stopped crying each time it happened. She went from being a rape victim
to a reluctant but compliant participant in her own degradation. It was
only then that the chains came off and Missy was allowed to put on
clothing.
===
"...seventeen ...eighteen." she cringed. These where no love taps, they
where hard and fast causing a sting with each hit. Bruce never held
back.
"...TWENTY!" she said with relief and added, "Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome", he was rubbing her large womanly ass admiring his
work and the deep blush he had brought out, "My Bunny's tail isn't so
cottony white now, is it?"
Bruce flipped her, bringing her face to face with him on his lap, "Why
do you make me do these things, Bunny? Why won't you be a good girl?"
"But..."
She was suppressing the urge to cry, strike out or even argue. She was
in the right here! She had responded in the time limit. But there was
no getting out of it, no reasoning. Bruce was right, she was a bad
girl, he was always right.
Missy felt his hand on her, working the exposed head of her penis. When
they had first gotten home she had no interest in sex or being let out
of her little cage. The thought, no the ACT, of sex with Bruce and her
own slavery was very counter-erotic. However, her needs had slowly
returned. And this man, Bruce, was fully in control of those needs; he
could bring them out of her at any time and in any situation. Here she
was naked on another man's lap, her ass still sore from a beating and
under Bruce's manipulation, her small penis was beginning to strain
against its metal restriction.
She moaned, moaned like a woman. Bruce was watching her, a cruel grin
on his face, "What does my Bunny want?"
I want to scream! To run away! To see you DEAD! But, she realized,
these where all empty fantasies, flights of fancy that would never come
to pass. She needed to be more pragmatic. More in the here and now.
"Bunny wants sex." she let out in a breathy moan. The words were less
then calculated, Bruce wanted her to be direct and she was.
"And how does Bunny want it?"
Crap! Here was the decision. She would never get it unless she gave it
to him and it had become her decision just how she would supply it.
"Bunny wants to suck your cock."
Here she was expressing a desire she really didn't have in the third
person, like she wasn't even there. Missy didn't want to suck cock;
Missy didn't want to have sex with men at all. Missy only wanted to be
let out of her cage so she could take care of business, to extinguish
that fire. But for Missy to get what she wanted Bunny had to give Bruce
what HE wanted.
"You know Missy," he said coldly, "You're only one point away from
being able to 'relieve' yourself. If you want me to fuck you, you can
get off right away, tonight. But it probably won't be till tomorrow if
you go the other way."
When it was clear that Missy's desires had returned in full force the
"point system" had been established. Each sexual act had it's own point
value but the two biggest were oral (half point) and anal (one full
point). Missy's reward for achieving the magic three points was to be
allowed to play with herself. By any stretch of the imagination it was
a lame reward, but it had become her only outlet and as such had become
the strongest incentive in the world to her. She was now one point from
achieving the release her body demanded. A suck today, a suck tomorrow
and she would have it. Or a poke from Bruce's massive rod and she could
have it right now. It was tempting, and she needed it so badly. But she
couldn't, after all the times she had allowed him to do it, it never
got any better. Anal, as Missy experienced it, was always rough,
painful and humiliating. She could feel him back there, moving, probing
her very soul. Oral was just as humiliating but she had some measure of
control. And Bruce was so much more gentle about it, allowing her to
work instead of forcing his pleasure from her. Even though it was worth
twice as many points, Missy tried to give Bruce that "gift" as few
times as possible.
"Bunny wants to suck your cock." she repeated, adding, "Bunny wants it
in her mouth."
"Okay, it's your decision." Missy had expected him to let her up, to
initiate sex or go back to work. But Bruce just held her, playing with
her tits, "Bunny, I'm not going to want to make out with you after you
do that."
Missy just stared at him with a slight squint in her eyes. That was
another advantage of oral, afterwards Bruce didn't get all tender
trying to fool the both of them into thinking they were a real couple.
Apparently, he didn't like the taste of cum on his lover's lips.
"So Bunny... tell me what I want to hear." She knew the right response,
she just didn't want to say it. It was the one thing she still fought
against.
"Tell me, Bunny, tell me what I want to hear." His fingerers where
biting into her nipple, twisting. Her erection was soon forgotten under
the pain from her breast.
Still she fought back the urge to say it, of all the humiliating,
degrading acts this was the worst. She had given him so much, why was
this so important? Maybe, because he knew it was important to HER.
The pressure continued, "Why do you make this so hard, Bunny? Every
time? Just say it."
The pain was increasing; she knew she would break. Better to say it and
be done with it. With a pained voice, a gasp, she let it out, "I love
you."
His hand moved away, she gulped the air, "I love you, Bruce."
It was something Mike had never said, not to a high school sweetheart,
not to Kate, not even to his own mother.
"That wasn't so bad? Was it?"
"Yes," she thought to herself, "Yes it was."
"Now kiss me, Bunny."
The exposed woman on his lap reached up behind his neck and pulled him
down onto her lips.
Part 4 of 6 - "Forced down, to look up"
"Ideal coping behavior is characteristically learned, while ideal
expressive behavior is characteristically unlearned. We do not
have to learn how to feel helpless or look healthy or be stupid
or show anger, while we do ordinarily have to learn how to build
bookshelves, ride a bicycle, or dress ourselves... ...Also coping
behavior tends to die out unless rewarded; expression often
persists without reward or reinforcement..."
- From "Motivation and Personality" by Abraham H. Maslow
Her life had degraded into a joke, or more like one sick joke after
another. And she took it, forced through each hoop. She could just hear
Bob laughing in the back of her mind. Still, she told herself, it was
just best to not think about it and do as she was told.
Everything was strictly controlled and regulated by a well-ordered set
of rules with Bruce as the enforcer, quite the perceptive and ruthless
enforcer at that. Bruce had a way, Missy wasn't sure how, but he seemed
able to see everything she did, hear every sound she made. His
"psychic" link scared her, even when he was away she never felt like
she was alone.
The rules for the wife where much stricter then the simple rules Cone
had set out for her. Only the most superficial decisions where left up
to her, not even her wardrobe. Shortly after she had arrived at his
home, she sat naked and chained, as she watched Kate arrive with two
suitcases. They contained all her worldly possessions, at least the
one's Kate was willing to part with, mostly clothing. Bruce ripped into
them. Forming two piles on the floor one for what was to stay the other
for what would go. Most of it went. No harsh colors or heavy fabrics.
No skirts below two inches above the knee. Bare shoulders, exposed
midriff, or deep cleavage shirts only. No white panties. And no,
absolutely NO pants! He did make on exception.
Holding up one of her collection of designer jeans, "I'm going to cut
these off. Short. They'll look good on you as you do house work. I
always was a sucker for a gal in cut offs."
Her recreation time was strictly controlled as well. No more TV,
newspapers, tabloids, books or other visual and mental stimuli that
Bruce said would "ral-her-up." Only romance novels and print outs. The
romance novels where all the usual fair, mostly about some maiden swept
off her feet by a big romantic hunk. The print outs where a whole
different story. They were explicit sex stories about people very much
in Missy's situation. They where mostly written in the first person
from the victims point of view and all had roughly the same plot- some
man for what ever reason is kidnapped or tricked or otherwise forced
into becoming a woman. He is then forced to have sex with men.
Apparently there where a bunch of weirdoes out there, on the internet,
in chat rooms and IRC, meeting in dark clubs, all night restaurants,
fifth floor apartments, sub-divided suburban homes, b&b's in the
country, a hotel in West Palm Beach or SOMEWHERE; Missy wasn't sure,
that have this fantasy about forcibly changing a man into a woman. And
from the volume she had to read, they wrote endlessly about it. In the
stories the protagonist initially fights what he has become but in the
end she always gives in, to come to love what she is now and the man or
men that fuck her.
To Missy it was very strange because she was in that exact situation
and KNEW, that's not how it worked. The mind, her mind, was simply not
that malleable. And the funny part, the joke they where playing on
Missy, was that all the names and physical descriptions in the stories
where changed to fit her exact situation. She read story after story of
the actions of "Bob", "Bruce", "Kate" and how poor "Missy" eventually
comes around. She hated reading this garbage but she had to, it was
part of the rules.
The stories were having an effect, though. Day by day, inch by inch,
Missy's world was closing in on her. Anything that would give her
perspective on her situation, any outside influence, was stripped away.
Her life now was solely comprised of Bruce and the house. All she had
were the stories, they where her only mental escape. They weighed heavy
on her mind and she, unconsciously at first, began to incorporate the
ideas and concepts in them into her own thought process. Even though
she knew the stories where psychologically wrong, she did develop the
fantasy, the hope, that they could on some level be true. Missy had the
normal human drive to be happy, to find balance even in suffering.
These fictional characters on the pages, some of them seemed so real
and she began to project her own visuals, emotions, thoughts and voice
onto them, filling in the obvious gaps of the printed word. Placing
herself in the stories she wished that, just like the characters in the
stories, she would someday find happiness in her new life.
All the time they where watching, tracking each change, watching for
the kinks in Mike's armor that showed his deeper feelings, how he was
weakening and bending to their will. In time Missy would accept her
enslavement as the natural order of things.
One of the "kinks" was evident on a "date" with Bruce. These dates
where a reward for doing a good job with the house and happened
infrequently. They where usually solely comprised of the stereotypical
date - movie and dinner but sometimes he would take her to the park and
what not. She hadn't before, but now she really enjoyed feeding the
geese. They were the only creatures she was allowed to interact with,
she wished she could fly away with them. She had to be prepared for the
date - an hour of make up and prep. And the outfits she was forced to
don where always sexual fantasy get ups.
Back in the day, when she was with Kate, she would not have minded
wearing such an outfit. Back then she was in control of her sexuality,
she was in control of how she acted, how she was perceived by those
around her and the locations she showed herself in. But such things
where no longer up to her. She now needed protection, protection from
the leers and advances of men. Bruce was that protection, one look at
that big brute of a man and she was free to be as sexy as she pleased.
But, of course, such things where not up to her either.
That night she was costumed as the catholic schoolgirl with an
abbreviated skirt. It wasn't as over the top as some of the outfits she
had worn but was noticeable to those turned on by such a display. Bruce
and Missy where sitting in a corner booth of a rough bar and she was
flat out drunk.
"Why was Bruce forcing so many drinks down her?" Missy wondered.
He could have anything he wanted, if she wouldn't give it he could
force it from her. And the shock belt, that would send her into what
looked like convulsions to an onlooker, kept her tied to him. There was
no need for the alcohol. It was all part of this stupid game, "look
what I can do to you, Missy. I can make you so blind drunk that you
can't walk." And for Missy it wasn't so bad, being drunk did ease some
of the stress. After each date it was not uncommon for Bruce to carry
Missy up the stairs, either propping her up as her crutch or over his
shoulder.
She was silently forming a trust bond with Bruce. The more she needed
him, even if that need was forced, the more he was there. Not Molesting
her, or taking advantage of the situation (he did that when she didn't
"need" him), but taking care of her in her time of need, contrived as
it may be. He dressed her for bed, tucked her in, cradled her on her
side so she wouldn't roll over onto her back and choke on her own
vomit. Consciously she hated Bruce but the perception was forming deep
in the recesses of her mind that this hated man who controlled every
aspect of her life could at least be trusted to take care of her.
So there they were in the corner booth, his arm around her stuffing bad
bar food into her mouth, "What's the matter, Bunny? Didn't you like the
movie?"
She smiled lazily up at him, it was so rare that he asked her opinion,
"I don't know. It was okay." She said of the action romance, the kind
of movie where the heroine initially hates the hero but is head over
heels by the end.
"Who was that guy in the third act? And why was I suppose to care when
he got shot?" Bruce let her ramble on, "And why was John helping
Ladron? He had killed his brother? Why would he do that?"
"And why after she escaped from the kidnappers she went back to her old
boyfriend's house?" unable to support it's weight she let her head fall
on to the table, "He's the one that gave her to them! She should'a gone
to the cops. It didn't make any sense, that was the worst mistake I
ever saw."
She put her head to the side, trying to get comfortable, "And using
slang that's twenty years out of date? That writer must'd been out of
it for ALONG time. That was a joke. Where's she been, some foreign
asylum or in a cave?"
Bruce just laughed, "I don't know Bunny, I didn't think of that."
There she was in all her femininity analyzing plot points, the
motivations of the characters, and inconsistencies in the script.
Bruce, all real men for that matter, didn't care about such things.
They just wanted to see a chicks tits or see something blow up, blow up
real good.
Other things were less obvious but cumulative. The way she carried
herself, the way she smiled sometimes. The light banter between her and
Bruce was less forced, as if she where adapting to him. Her submission
to Bruce was becoming near reflexive, like it never even occurred to
her to do otherwise. And the big change was how Missy was seeking
approval from Bruce in every aspect of her life. She was reaching for
something, she wanted to talk about herself and her situation. She
wanted confirmation that she was a person and not just a place for
Bruce to shoot his load. She even once asked him if he thought she was
fat! Was she aware of how clich?d such a plea was? Or was that the
point? In either case it was slipped in so casually, under the radar,
that it didn't matter, she seemed concerned about the answer, either
way. Next, they joked to themselves, she'll be asking Bruce what he was
thinking.
But some kinks where less subtle. One evening the pin-hole camera in
the privy caught something most interesting. The cameras where there to
keep an eye on Missy. Hidden as they where they where not the blunt
instruments of oppression they otherwise could have been but silently
tracked her movements. That night they caught quite the show.
Missy was cleaning the bathroom, one of Bruce's "Playboy's" on the back
of the toilet. She was not allowed to look at such things, but her
natural male tendencies you know. She picked up the book spinning it
this way and that as she flipped through the pages. 1 min., 2 min, 5
minutes went by. She was now in the back of the magazine looking at
something. What was it? A pretty girl? Some outfit? A piece of art on
the colored pages? The camera couldn't see. She put the magazine back
and began to walk out. She then stopped as if thinking the better of
something, as this might be her last chance, and went to the book
again. She immediately flipped to the back, the page now in clear view
of the camera. Bob nearly busted a gut when he saw the tape; he had to
watch it over and over. She was looking at a full page ad for one of
those counterfeit steroid products. The ad featured a well-toned man
bear and smooth chested wearing a pair of tight bike shorts that
clearly showed the outline of his large package. In a men's sex book
Missy had found the one thing that might be considered a turn on for a
woman, AND not only had she found it - she went back to look at it.
Later that week Bruce made a point of showing her the book and telling
her that he had found her finger prints all over it, he flipped to the
ad telling her that - this - is all she should be interested in. As she
stretched across his lap for a spanking he explained, "But I don't
think he would like you, Bunny. A guy that takes care of his body like
that? He probably likes other men, not women like you."
Fingerprints? How could that be? What about the ad? The exact ad she
looked at, it seemed like more than random chance. Well, it's best not
to think about it Missy told herself. It's my fault for looking and I
had better not do it again.
Little Missy was coming along nicely. She was now introspective, self-
loathing, emotionally dependent, submissive and sexually responsive.
They had adapted her to her new life, it was time to move on. It was
time to kick it up a notch to a level she wouldn't understand but would
silently accept. It was time to take Missy's private hell and make it
so very public, putting her on display for the world to see.
===
She sat there mouth watering at the site of the steak. She was only
allowed a salad, her almost exclusive protein source was now Bruce.
Still it was good to be out of the house and to a real restaurant not
one those holes Bruce takes her to. It was good despite the company
they where keeping.
Bruce spoke softly almost begging, "You see Mr. Cone, Bunny has
expressed an interest in becoming more... womanly."
Bob looked up with a smile, dabbing his face with a clean white cloth
napkin he looked directly at her, "That's great! I'm glad to see you've
come to terms with yourself, Mike."
To her horror Missy recognized what they where talking about. As
submissive as she was she couldn't let it stand. But her little girl
resistance was weak at best and spoken in a passive whisper, "Bruce we
never talked about..."
"Bunny! Shut up." she was cut off.
Bob continued on, "You know Missy, or is it 'Bunny' now, I knew this
day would come. It really shows how capable you are of personal
growth," he was calling the waiter over, "let's celebrate. I assume I'm
the first you've told? I'm honored."
Yea, he was the first they told! Bruce hadn't even told Missy about it.
Besides, who else was there to tell?
Bruce continued, trying not to bother Bob as he talked to the waiter,
"Well, Mr. Cone... There are considerations, you know. With Bunny
choosing the home life and the rules and all. And Bunny is so high
maintenance; Kate's been good about giving me time off to take care of
her. But the value of a dollar."
Bob lit a cigarette, "I see? So to be blunt you're asking me for money.
For my help?"
"Well, yea. Seeing how, you know, you are responsible for her
condition."
As insane as it sounds Missy's heart skipped a beat. Was Bruce standing
up for her?
"No, Bruce," he pounded the table, "only one person is 'responsible for
her condition' and that person is the only blonde at this table."
"Sir, this is a no smoking restaurant," Bob raised his eyes to the
waiter delivering drinks. Immediately he produced a money clip and
handed the kid a $100 bill, "Bring me an ash tray or butter dish or
something."
"Yes, sir." the waiter scurried off.
"Ever read children's books, Bruce?"
Bruce scrunched up his face in a confused look, "No."
"You really should, there is a lot of wisdom in those books. I was
reading this one to Bob jr. the other day, it was no
_Thidwick_the_Big_Hearted_Moose_ or _The_Lonely_Doll_," he pointed at
Missy, "You might be interested in that one." his finger moved down and
tapped the table, "Write it down even. Dare Wright was a fascinating
woman."
The sissy was shocked at being included in the conversation at all,
"Okay."
"Anyway, I was reading this book to Bob jr., it was called
_If_You_Give_a_Mouse_a_Cookie_. It's about this kid that gives a mouse
a cookie, then the mouse wants a glass of milk..." He waved his hand
around rotating it at the wrist, "Long story short the kid gives the
mouse thing after thing until, finally, the mouse asks for another
cookie... you see?"
Bob took a sip of his drink. How can a man drink out one end of his
mouth and still hold a cigarette in the other? Missy had never seen it
done before.
"You come to me for one thing then the next, where does it end?"
Bruce pushed on in the face of this ludicrous line of argument, "It's
just the rules on Bunny are so strict, I don't see how she could do it
even if she wanted to work and that's the only way it's going to
happen. I don't have the means to pay for both our needs and her
wishes. Couldn't you, you know, share the wealth?"
"Bruce, those rules are on her, not you. She needs to understand
financial matters are no longer her concern. I wouldn't see any breach
if the pay checks were made out to you, as long as she doesn't tell you
what to do with it. A wife needs to worship her husband, it's a her
duty to lay all she has at his feet."
He stopped lost in a moment of thought, "Then again, we don't want her
working too long outside of the home."
"What do you mean?"
"I have an idea how 'Bunny' here can make some quick cash. I'll have my
people set it up. A face that pretty should be shared."
The way Bob was smiling at her made Missy's blood run cold.
Copyright 2004 Quiet Savage
[email protected]
Stevie
- 06.11.2022
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