Suddenly -- Part 1 free porn video

Suddenly By Lauren Westley (Authoress Comment: All disclaimers to all my writings hold true here. If you think it was you or any character reminds you of someone then I hope it's with fond memories, but it isn't about you or them but maybe it's about me.) This particular story is dedicated to some very special readers who have urged me on and wished me kindness. To all of you, Thank You. Also, this story is going to take much more time to unfold. So you action readers should skip this first part of the story. Hopefully a few of you will enjoy it. And, I'll be happy if just one person finds it worthy. Of course like most of my stories is another continuation. Should you wonder why, it's because life lasts longer than you think? [email protected] Blog: 7/13/2006 Can you imagine coming home from work one evening and finding someone sitting in your living room waiting for you? Well, that's what happened to me yesterday. I own my home which is located on a quiet street. My backyard has a deck, a small swimming pool and a little herb and flower garden. I live high up overlooking a canyon and although the house is not a mansion it had a couple of great features. First, the view is awesome and second, the house is situated quite privately. The house is lower than the street (this happens depending which side of a mountain road you house is on) so the wall at the street side of my property completely secludes my small house. Also, I can't see the houses next to me and likewise they can't see my house since I'm on a little jut (plateau) on the mountain. Anyone above me can see my roof but neither my pool nor deck area. The climate is desert warm all year round with plenty of warm, wonderful sun. You may think you've guessed where I live but I am not giving you anymore geographical information. Although, I'm writing this blog since it's a part of the deal I made yesterday. Well, back to yesterday when I came home and found an uninvited guest in my living room. He's a big man compared to me and I'm not small. Actually I'm 5'7" and weigh 155 lbs. so he must have been 6'2" and over 230 lbs. As soon as I turned the lights on in the living room he was sitting there. Obviously I was shocked and of course a bit nervous since I don't have a gun. Also I was unprepared for an intruder and therefore only became aware of him when I turned on the lights. The mail I was carrying was not much of a weapon. "Don't be afraid Michael," he said. Standing there like a deer in the headlights I was about to tell him I was going to call the police. But he continued talking before I got a word out. "Michael, you don't want to call the police or anyone else especially after you embezzled those funds last month from your company. I know how you sent them to an intermediary and then electronically forwarded them on to your account at the Valley Bank," he continued. His voice was strong he didn't raise it. He just talked matter-of-fact. Well, that stopped me right there. Now I didn't know who he was but he sure knew about my 'perfect' caper a month ago. I had managed to have accomplished something that I saw in an old movie but this I had updated to the current world of electronics. It was fool proof. Or so I believed until now. I don't work for a bank and I won't say whom I work for. However my company does have numerous on-line customers. My job was updating virus protection for our customers who paid their bill electronically. I managed to slip a little applet into my updated software which went to our nearly two million customers which would siphon off some change from each one I selected. This applet only was sent to customers who had decided both to auto- pay and also had declined receiving paper statements. But we have enough customers electing these two processes so by the end of the first month (about a week ago) I had a wonderful supplemental income. Since I haven't turned the program off I will not elaborate. "So, as I'm sure you are aware you've committed several Federal and local crimes which added up would probably mean a sentence you may complete by the time most people are thinking retirement," this man said with softly with a sardonic smile. I'm 38 years old, divorced and never had children. I had done the math before and knew he was talking at least 17 years before I would be eligible for parole if I was convicted. I wondered if he was with the FBI or the DA's office. But, I also thought he hadn't shown me any identification so I asserted myself with a, "Just who the hell are you?" "Michael," he said softly as he put a manila folder down on the table, "this is a copy of the proof of your crime and definitely incriminates you. Sit down and listen to my proposal or you can call the police. I don't care which but I think you will care more about listening to me then facing incarceration. Your choice Michael, what will it be?" I sat down, with a heavy sigh, feeling quite upset over the circumstances and listened to his proposal. He said, "I'll live here until I want to move. You will do anything and everything I ask of you. And I mean anything and everything or else this file will be sent to the FBI. All I'll say is this file will be sent if you try to harm me. And if you even try to hold me captive it would be less than 24 hours before the FBI came to arrest you for both the embezzlement and kidnaping. Oh, and if you think you can kill me, don't; since that would add murder to your crimes and you would spend life in a state penitentiary which in this state is considered awful. And if your life sentence ever came to an end due to probation or any other circumstance you would have to fulfill the Federal sentence which I am quite sure would run consecutively. So, shall I continue?" Well, that was pretty much that. Whatever he was offering was much better than the alternatives. "Yes," I said with a resigned breath. "Good," he continued, "You will come home from work everyday. You will not talk about this with anyone except for a blog you will write on your word processor when I tell you to. I'll read your blog and I will censor what I want. I will upload the finished blog to a site I've chosen. You're details will be thorough and explicit and you will only refer to me as 'he' or 'Mr. Smith.' However I expect great details in all other matters including any physical and emotional observations you may have. Any questions?" he asked in that soft matter-of-fact tone? Well of course I had questions but each one I asked he said the answer was not my business. The only answer I should need is to absolutely obey him without question when he told me to do something. However he mentioned I could write anything and everything I wanted in this blog. I could curse him, hate him, wish for something else but only in the blog and it would be edited. Finally my last question was, "what do you plan to have me do?" "Michael, that's a good question and you will find out a little immediately. Meanwhile, your first blog will be due tomorrow night at 10pm. But remember, do not decline what I ask. I want to make it clear your duty is simply to obey me," he answered. Not once did he raise his voice but he did speak to me in a dominating fashion. "Why don't you go into the kitchen and fix us dinner," he directed. My first act of obedience was to walk into the kitchen to make dinner. Taped to the refrigerator was a menu of what he expected for dinner and for me to be sure to set the table and call him in when it was ready. I was to cook it and serve it. I kept thinking if there was a way out of this. Maybe I could offer him some money at dinner. Yes, I thought, that's what I'll do. So, I cooked the food I found he had brought. I set the table and when everything was done (you don't want me to tell you what we ate, do you? Ok, it was salmon, asparagus and a salad.) I called out to the living room that dinner was ready. He answered back from the living room and said, "Never shout Michael, always walk into the room and demurely say, "Mr. Smith dinner is ready. Now try it again." I was so annoyed but thought I would just do it and then at dinner try to get out of this. So, I walked back into the kitchen and then back in the room and said, "Mr. Smith your dinner is ready." He thanked me and proceeded to my small dining room and sat at the head of the table. I went into the kitchen to get the plates and bring them out. But, when I entered the dining room he said for me to go back to the kitchen and put the apron on that he had left for me on the counter top and to never carry two meals at a time. Not even to carry two plates but rather to bring one plate at a time and to bring his dinner in first. I went back in the kitchen. The apron was on the counter I hadn't seen it before. It wasn't a chef's apron. No it was a pink and white woman's apron that I had to tie in the back with a bow. But, I didn't think much about it. I just thought it was there to keep a spill from getting on me thus without ado I put it on. I brought his dinner out (in two round trips) and set it down in front of him. He softly reminded me I should serve on the right and remove from the left. Then I went back to the kitchen and brought my meal out and sat down. Again he admonished me by saying I should know to take the apron off and fold it neatly on the chair next to me. He also said from now on at meals I should say 'good evening' or something appropriate to him before I sat down. With that he said, "Michael this dinner looks lovely. Thank you for cooking such a nice meal." Again I had made a mistake he corrected. Apparently I was to wait for him to take the first bite before I started eating. This whole thing was getting to be too much so I started to say something about giving him money, but he stopped me and said we could talk later in the living room after I had cleaned up and brought him coffee. He said he liked his coffee black and the coffee he liked was on the counter. Biting my tongue and barely eating anything I sat through dinner as he ate slowly and I just wanted this meal to end. After dinner I put my apron on and then cleared his plates first and when I came back to get mine he had already left and gone into the living room. There I was back in the kitchen making him coffee. I don't even drink coffee. Another thing I realized was the coffee was organic. So he's a health nut I thought. I don't care what kind of nut he was as long as he was a gone nut. When the dishes were washed by hand, I dried them, put them away and carried his coffee out to the living room. No, I don't have a dishwasher. Why should I since I lived alone and seldom cooked. When I had a date I went out or I would go to her house and she would cook and clean up for me. I'd often order out at home or go out to eat by myself. I had just broken up with my latest girlfriend a week ago. When you get to 38 you sort of become an adamant bachelor. Why keep a relationship going when you reached the point where the woman started to complain about you? Heck, they would start with, "why don't you cut your hair?" Or, "I don't feel like doing that let's go to the ballet instead?" These were signals to bring the whole thing to an end. And, so I did last week when I told Susan I was moving on. So, I brought his coffee out to the living room and realized I still had my apron on. He was sitting in my favorite chair. I just couldn't wait for this to be over. As I set the coffee cup and saucer down on the coffee table I saw a pair of black high heel shoes and a pair of woman's ankle socks next to them. Before I could say a word he pointed to the seat near him on the sofa and said for me to, "sit down." I began to take off the apron but he told me to leave it on and sit down since he wanted to talk to me. I said I had something to say also to which he replied it would be fine after he talked. So, I went over and sat down with the apron fluttering down on my knees. And that's when it all started. "Michael," he said, "you cannot buy me off. You cannot talk me out of my plan. And you won't change my mind. So, if you try to do that at any time from this moment on the manila envelope goes to the FBI. The only thing you can do is to obey me and do what I ask you to. And I expect you to do what I ask without complaint. Do you think you finally understand?" It began to dawn on me I wasn't going to get out of this unless he decided he was through. So, the best course of action for me was to just say yes. "Good. Now Michael you are probably wondering what these high heels are doing here. And I don't intend to keep the reason they are here from you. I want you to remove your shoes and socks and put the ankle highs on and then the shoes. They are a 9 which is your woman size foot. I'll expect you to remember that," he said as his blue eyes riveted through me. "Also from now on you will wear them whenever you are at home unless I give you permission to do otherwise. Do you have something useful to say now Michael," he finished with his blue eyes focused right through my temporal lobe. I tried to think of someway out of this but couldn't so there was nothing for me to say and the only thing to do was to follow his directions. I took off my loafers and then my black socks exchanging them for the nylon ankle highs and the high heels. "You'll get use to them Michael. I want you to wear them whenever you are home. That means I expect you to become proficient by tomorrow nights' dinner or you will trip serving my meal," he said. So, I think you should get up and walk around to strengthen your calves now." Well I tried to stand up but instead I just fell back on the sofa. It was more difficult than learning to ice skate. But he warned me it would be better for me to practice from now until dinner tomorrow or he would be displeased. Displeased! How did I feel? A grown man in trousers and shirt with black woman's high heel shoes and ankle socks on. I was so displeased I was wishing I was bigger or thinking about how I shouldn't have done the crime over the next 20 hours. Also he informed me that he had taken over the master bedroom and my room from now on would be the guest room. Shit, when he said that I wanted to punch him out, but as you realize by now I didn't have the size to beat him nor did I have the balls to go to jail for both my crime and murder. He dismissed me by saying, "Michael you may go to your room now." It actually sounded in my head as if he had said I'm finished talking now so get the fuck out of my face. Except for two things, his voice was always mellow and his words were never curse words. And based on what he had said my role would be I realized my only release would be this blog. Gosh, I have to throw up. July 14, 2006: evening blog. So, I've gotten pretty good at walking in high heels and served him dinner tonight without an accident. I may hate this but it is definitely better than going to jail. I'll try doing what he wants and hope for the best. After dinner I went to the kitchen to get his coffee. When I came back into the living room, looking ridiculous in my ankle socks and high heels with a white and pink apron tied around my waist, he was sitting there smiling. I carried his coffee on a small tray. Another annoyance he had requested I use when dinner was finished. He said, "It will be nicer if you bring my coffee on a tray." What could I tell him, "No?" I went to put the tray on the coffee table and saw a pair of black satin panties and a matching bra. The tray began to shake and the coffee nearly spilled when my breath left me and my hands started shaking. Here I was standing in a pair of black high heels and now this. I barely got the tray down on the table when out of my mouth came the anguished words, "What do you want from me? Why are you here? What is this? I'm a man. Can't you see that?" He just looked up at me and said, "Settle down Michael and I'll tell you what I want and why I am here. Just sit down." Shaking, I managed to sit down. My hands nearly covering my eyes, I tried not to look, but did; there were the panty and bra lying on the table. I could feel myself gasping for air. My eyes saw the truth and my mind obviated it. "Michael, look at me," he said. I looked up at his blue eyes my green ones pleading. "I am going to turn you into a woman," he continued My eyes began to well with the start of a tear. "Now don't you cry? The only thing you can do to make this easier is obey me. I really don't want to go through this again as we proceed. You have your blog which you can use to release these thoughts, but outside the blog I only want you to listen and obey. You know what disobedience will bring legally. But now any disobedience, and that is for me to judge, will bring punishment. Now pick up the bra and panties and go to your new bathroom. I want you to take a hot bath. No more showers for you. Shave all the hair off your body from your neck down but make sure you leave a little vertical patch of hair above your pussy. You've seen how woman shave their pussies. Now also make sure your face is closely shaved as well. Fortunately you are nearly hairless anyhow. When you are clean and dried put on the bra, panties, socks and heels and then use the perfume you'll find on the counter. Then come back out here and we'll start your training as a woman. Now go," he softly spoke as his eyes coldly demanded. A tear now fell from my eye. I felt my past slipping by and a new present unraveling. It was not a present I had ever thought possible. The money was so I could take a beautiful babe down to Antigua an....and... and... now... I was being turned into... what... how? I don't even look like a woman. The tear landed on my apron as I rose. I picked up the bra and panty. My tear settled right on pink border of my apron and left a wet reminder of my fragility. My knees began to shake and I felt my legs nearly collapse. What choices did I have? It was either doing this or a long time in jail. Maybe I'd be sexually forced in jail as well. I knew it could happen. My size, although still manly out here, might be considered womanly in prison. Especially since I didn't have much body hair and in prison that would probably distinguish me. I wouldn't have any control there. Better here than there I thought. At least I could figure a way out at some point in the future and I was free. I'm sure one of you reading this blog is saying, "no way. I wouldn't do it." Some of you may think I gave in too easily or maybe one of you knows a way out. But none of you are me and I didn't think I was giving in easily. I didn't know a way out. And, I am consigned to doing it. Please if you are reading this blog try and be kind in your thoughts. I'm sure more female readers will understand and I beg you males to please not judge me to harshly. My new bathroom (the guest bathroom is now mine) was smaller. Also it was more gender non-specific unlike the larger one I no longer could use. And now in d?cor and accouterment it slanted towards a woman's bath. I went to put my panty and bra down on the vanity and saw the following. There were several hair brushes and a can of hair spray to the left corner of the sink. Behind that were two bottles of perfume. To the right of the sink (which had more room with a set of drawers on the far right) there was now a stool. Also a box similar to a tackle box was opened and in the little slots and spaces there were nail polish, emery boards, q-tips, a variety of make-up items, something I knew from when I was married was called a eyelash curler, tweezers, nail clippers and a whole bunch of other stuff. In the far right corner a box of Super Tampons sat end up unopened. Next to the sink on the right was a Gillette battery powered razor called the Venus Vibrance. It was fuchsia and white. Next to that was a jar of Bathina Sweet Satin Shave. There was a note under a bottle of 'Melon Pear Bubble Bath.' It said, "Something to make you smell sweet." Also there was some shampoo called 'Fudge' which said it was 'bubble gum scented.' I screwed off the top and it was purple and smelled like 'bubble gum' yuck! By the toilet was a magazine rack with several 'how to' magazines. One was called 'New Beauty'. Also there was the current issue of 'Playgirl'. On the right side of the cover there were a bunch of little items (about what was inside). There was 'Thread Lift', 'Cosmeceuticals', 'Injectable Fillers', 'Botox', 'Lip Plumper's', 'Breast Enhancement', 'Eyelift Surgery', 'Smile Makeovers', and on and on. I started my bath and sprinkled the bubble bath and watched the bubbles form. I wanted to yell out "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck." Instead I just watched the bubbles with my arms wrapped around me, hugging myself. When the bubbles were nearly going over the top of the tub I turned the water off and got in. It actually felt nice. After nearly two hours I was completely and closely shaved with all my body hair gone and my skin was a bit red but he oils in the bubble bath helped soothe me. My hair smelled of bubble gum and my body smelled like a fruit. I dried off and then had trouble putting the bra on. It's quite difficult. I was sure what to do at first but finally figured I had to put it on backwards and turn it around my body, finally putting my arms through the straps. When I looked at the panties I realized they were quite different than my girl friends had worn. They were shaped like a little satin skirt and there was a thong which went up my ass crack. There was no way to just be comfortable in them. I walked out of the bathroom in panties, bra, ankle socks and high heels. When I got to the living room HE was sitting there waiting. He had me turn around and then told me to lift my arms. Then I had to pull down my panties. All the while he took some digital photos of me. Finally he said, "Not too bad, but I want you to pay a little more attention tomorrow. Now why don't you go write you blog tonight and I'll see you in the morning." July 15, 2006 evening blog Today is Saturday. Usually it's my day off but not this Saturday. I always wake up around 7 am, even on the weekends. But when I got up this morning I saw an outfit on the chair near my bed. A note was pinned to my bra which read, "Put the breast forms on the table in the appropriate slot in your bra." The note also said for me to wear the outfit on the chair. Then the note said I was to "check out your closet and dresser and then come out and make my breakfast. When its ready bring it on a tray to my room knock and say, 'Mr. Smith your breakfast is ready.' When I tell you to enter walk in and say, 'Good morning Mr. Smith, where would you like me to serve your breakfast.' When I dismiss you go back to the kitchen get your breakfast and eat it in the laundry room." The note continued to tell me what to make him. I was to make him two slices of bacon, one egg over easy, a slice of whole wheat toast with a pat of butter and a cup of coffee. (Later I would learn he was a nut for organic food and I would be doing the shopping.) The note also said my breakfast would be a small scoop of cottage cheese and a cup of plain green tea plus a vitamin and calcium pill which were on the counter. Fuck, I wanted to throw up. Cottage Cheese??? The note also said I would only be allowed water without permission. Otherwise I would be told what to eat and when. He reminded me to take another bath. Actually the note said I was to take two baths a day shaving at both of them. This girl stuff was all consuming. Two baths, cooking, grocery shopping; I wondered when would I have a break? You won't believe the outfit he left me. It was a short satiny day dress without sleeves and puffy fabric over the shoulders. The dress was white with colorful blend of persimmon, canary yellow and bluebird blue wisps. (Shit that was what I learned reading one of the magazines in the bathroom. Prior to that I would have thought it was red, yellow and blue.) Next to the dress was fresh lingerie. There were white satin full seat panties with matching bra and white stay up stockings. Also there was an open toed 4 inch heel matching persimmon pair of heels. Fortunately the heel was not spiked so it was easier to walk in. Everything was very feminine. The note informed me to walk in smaller steps putting one foot in front of me and then the other as a sexy woman would. Finally the note said this weekend would be without a break. Everything was to make me be seen in a particular way. Well, I finished my bath and sat in my lingerie putting my makeup on. I tried very hard to get everything right. I had my computer next to the table and I decided to see if there was any help on lips, eyes etc. Well, lo and behold, Revlon, Cover Girl and many other cosmetic firms had tips. I learned how to use a lip pencil to outline my lips and to blot the lipstick within and not rub it. Also one of them I put information in and it said the best colors for me etc. Over the next hour I looked up information. One site showed how to get ready in 5 minutes or 20 minutes depending on the time you had. Anyhow, not to bore you with the details, when I finished I looked pretty feminine. I had never noticed the features I had or how to make some features even more feminine looking. I walked to the kitchen as instructed; my ass did sway. I could feel each cheek move a little. I had never really paid attention to the movement of a woman's feet moving but I had always noticed her ass sway. So that is how woman make that 'sexy come fuck me' look. And now I was doing it. About a half hour later I was knocking on his (my) bedroom door. He told me to enter and then on cue I said, "Mr. Smith where would you like me to serve your breakfast?" "On the desk, thank you," he said. I started walking out and heard him say, "much better!" Sitting in the laundry room eating my cottage cheese and drinking my green tea in my permission dress and matching shoes, I felt like a pussy. I wasn't, but certainly I looked like one. I wasn't sure what this man wanted other then to make a feminine. He only said he had a plan. Well, I had a plan and it had gone awry and now I was slowly losing my sense of self. I heard his voice, "Michael would you please come to the living room." Rising from my stool I put the near empty dish of cottage cheese down and went to the living room. I started to sit down but he (I guess Mr. Smith) said, "No Michael. You will never take a liberty when a man is in the room." Again his voice remained strong but calm. "Now Michael, this is what is going to happen. So just listen. Because Michael you have no other choices. We've discussed it. You know it. And so, this is your fate. You will send your resignation to your employer today saying you will not even be able to give two weeks notice. You will not give a reason. Short, curt and to the point that is what your resignation will say." Mr. Smith continued, "Also, you will sign this power-of-attorney. Over the next weeks all your old things will be sold. The money will be kept safely for you when your term of service ends in five years." At least now I knew there was a limit. Five years. It was a long time but short compared to the alternatives. "We need to change you name Michael. And I don't mean just for conversation. It will be changed legally. Your last name is fine. But your first name just won't do," Mr. Smith continued. "I have thought about this and looking at you it seems quite obvious your name will be Sandra," he said. Sandra I thought, why? I thought he was going to say Michelle. I was taken off guard. But then again I had been off guard for several past days. "Now, Sandra, put this in your left ear," Mr. Smith said as he handed me a small ear plug. It fit snugly deep in my ear and I didn't even notice it was there after I place it. "Good, now listen," Mr. Smith said as he pushed a button and a light tone went off in my left ear. It was just a tone. Not harsh. Just one note, a single sound, a ding rang in my ear. Like an elevator when it arrived at a floor. "Now Sandra, when you hear that tone you will come to me immediately. I don't care what you are doing you will just find me and when you arrive you will say 'what do you want Mr. Smith?' You do understand, right?" Mr. Smith asked. I answered, "Yes Mr. Smith." Five years. I can do this. "Also, this tone can be transmitted for miles. When you are out on your own and you hear it ring in your ear, you will immediately use your cell phone and call me with the same question and in the same tone," Mr. Smith stated without any emotion. "Now as you know failure deserves punishment. I am the judge and jury. So if you don't answer immediately, if you don't come and find me immediately when I call you, if you don't do what I ask immediately without question from now on, you will be spanked. You will be spanked, because that is how women like you are reprimanded. I will tell you to either get over my knee, kneel down or all fours or some other position and then I will spank you. You may cry and you may whimper, but you will never yell or scream or else your punishment will be doubled each time you do. And I'm sure you know how quickly doubling can add up." So, now I was going to be spanked also. I felt like a dog in the circus. No, actually he was making me a bitch in his circus. "Also, after you clean up the breakfast dishes you will drive to this address," Mr. Smith said handing me a piece of paper. Written on it was Janes 511 Hubbard Street. About an hour later I was driving my car dressed as a woman. However, if I was stopped there would be no question I was just a man in a dress and probably be taken to jail for something. My mind played over the five years and then freedom. The chorus was 'otherwise the pen for fifteen.' At a light a man in the car to my left smiled. I couldn't tell if he knew or if he was playing me. Either way it wasn't comfortable. Ten minutes later I turned onto Hubbard Street and began looking for 511. At least I was on the right side of the street I thought as I pass 413. After the next light I saw a small building snuggled between two local businesses. Slowing down I could see the gold numbers 511 almost glowing against the green door. Just above the numbers was the word Janes in magenta italics. There was a parking space just a little up the block. I parked, got out of my car and waved my little American Express fob over the meter and started walking to Janes. My dress, lest you forget, was quite an eye magnet with the persimmon, canary yellow and bluebird wisp colors shining in the California sun. However, no matter how much everything else about me looked somewhat feminine my hair was definitely not refined enough to go with the outfit and I could tell the men outside the coffee shop I passed knew I was a man. One slyly cupped his hand over his crotch. I walked faster to Janes and rang the bell. The green door opened (authoresses note: come on guys, don't even think it. I'm laughing too. For those a bit younger, Behind the Green Door, Marilyn Chambers, Procter and Gamble girl) and a somewhat matronly woman said, "welcome Sandra" and ushered me in. Well, without going through the next 8 hours of each thing I was taught, let me just say it's fucking hard to be a woman. Hair, makeup, nails, skin, shaving, shit there's no end to the whole thing. But at the end of eight hours I had a very feminine hairdo, knew how to wash, set and brush it and also all the other countless things women do. Five years was beginning to feel like an eternity. Almost on cue, Mr. Smith's little chime rang in my ear. Dutifully, I called him and said, "What do you want Mr. Smith?" "Sandra," Mr. Smith answered, "on your way home stop by the grocery store and pick up dinner. I will have a porterhouse steak and a nice salad. Also, buy a good bottle of red wine. For yourself get a can of tuna. Don't dawdle." I had almost said 'Yes Mr. Smith,' but he had already hung up the phone. What a shit I thought, he just gives me an order, no please, just do it and then hangs up. I felt a bit of outrage. I wanted to punch him out but knew I couldn't. How could I get even I wondered? An hour and half later I was back in the kitchen fixing dinner. Mr. Smith had wanted his steak medium rare. Well I cooked it medium. It just made me feel better. Especially since he had made me eat my tuna out of the can before fixing his dinner. Water and a can of tuna while I stood at the counter in the kitchen, I can't tell you how pissed off I was. Of course it didn't end there. After dinner when I served Mr. Smith his coffee in the living room he motioned me to come stand by him. Obediently I walked over but when he put his hand just under my dress on my thigh I twitched. "Don't even think about pulling away," Mr. Smith said in his usual calm voice. "You are not going to be made into a lady my dear. Oh, no, you are going to be a cunt." His words seared through my head like a branding iron. You would think I had already known what was coming, but the actual hand on my thigh was devastating. His calling me a cunt was stinging. He said it in the same soft voice but it echoed throughout my brain. "But," he continued with his warm hand against my inner thigh, "you cooked my steak medium and I asked for it medium rare. You've asked for a spanking and I am going to oblige you." Mr. Smith got up from his chair saying, "you haven't earned the right to be spanked on my knee," and as he spoke he grabbed my wrist, twisting my arm until my arm was up my back and I automatically began to bend forward. He didn't do this with fury but instead with just a strength I couldn't overcome if I wanted to. With his other hand he lifted my dress up exposing my panty covered ass and began spanking me with his hand. They weren't soft, but they weren't enormous either, his hand just came down on my ass cheeks, one and then the other, stinging until he was finished. I didn't know how many times he had spanked me, but I guessed ten times. More interesting I didn't scream, I didn't even pull back, I accepted my fate and somewhere near the end I could hear a whimpering sound wave came out of my mouth and filled the air around me. He let go of my hand and said as I straightened up, "that's a good girl. Now don't go touching yourself. After a spanking you are to just let the sting remain without rubbing it away." After cleaning up I came back to my room and sat my sore ass down and started this blog about my day. I cried a little. I was so glad Mr. Smith didn't see me cry. What is happening to me? July 16th evening blog Well, the Lord may have rested on the seventh day but Mr. Smith didn't let me. Even though it was Sunday I had as much to do as the day before. Actually I even had more to do now that I knew how to make myself look not just passable but actually attractive. It was quite interesting how feminine my face looked. If I lost 25 lbs I may even look very sexy. I thought to myself, if I'm going to be stuck like this for five years I'm going to make the best of it. I don't want to ever be stopped while I'm out with someone thinking I was a man. Especially other men who may think something I wasn't. How would I explain and of course I couldn't. So, I vowed to loose weight, trim up and get on with these five years the best I could. Heck, I thought, I always pushed myself in whatever endeavor I had entered. Even in high school when I joined the wrestling team. I had hated it, but I tried my best and was one of the better wrestlers on our team. Therefore, if I could make the best of being a wrestler, I could easily make the best of being a woman. Well, Mr. Smith had made sure today would be taxing to say the least. After breakfast Mr. Smith had his typical morning talk with me. He said the next week would make me ready for the next five years of my life. "Sandra," Mr. Smith continued, "the reason for your fate is the inability of the American woman to understand how to be a submissive object. Instead they have treated by society as victors of wars they never fought. Historically, the men of Caesar's Rome were the victors. They were the children of Romulus and the rape of the Sabine women. For hundreds of years the women were pleasure objects for the men to enjoy without question. Sex was revered in their culture and many others." So, I'm standing there listening to this shit wondering where he is going with this. Mr. Smith's voice droned on, "Caligula's and Claudius' debauchery was more than just women, boys and men. Claudius threw his young male minions onto the rocks of Capri from over a thousand feet up when he was no longer interested in them. Roman men enjoyed the numerous legal prostitutes of Rome. Nearly one out of five women in Rome were prostitutes. So, where Roman eventually went too far in one direction; America has moved to far to the other side of the fulcrum." What was his point? The only thing I understood was that I was being forced to be something I wasn't. "Therefore Sandra, there are men in our society who enjoy a very different sort of sexual experience. These men are wealthy, powerful and dominant. Their pleasure is taking someone like you and transforming you into their forced bitch," Mr. Smith continued. "As you are now aware, I am one of this brotherhood and you are becoming one of our sisterhood. Over these five years you will face this sisterhood with both as vulgarity and sensuality. But, Sandra, you will experience it completely. You were chosen because you have the features we desire and your mistake gave us the power to take and change you." The room seemed smaller and the temperature hotter as he went on about what would be expected of me. I would suck cock with the desire to please the cock with no regard to myself whenever I was instructed. I would not be allowed to do anything without asking. And, I would not always be listened to. Sunday continued with my learning that I need to ask if I could eat when I was hungry; if I could pee when I had to go. Household chores were to be done as per instructions and the only time I could really call my own would be from the time I was sent to my room at night until the next morning's chores. Other things I learned today was by next Sunday I would no longer be in this house but somewhere else. Mr. Smith explained I would give him full power of attorney over all financial and medical decisions. At the end of five years my financial wherewithal would be so significant I could live anywhere in the world quite comfortably for the rest of my life without worrying about money. After a full day I put on my nightgown, sat down (I wasn't spanked today) and wrote this. I can feel myself reacting differently as my life is now in Mr. Smith's hands. July 17th evening blog I can't believe it. I swallowed cum this afternoon. Gosh, what is happening to me? This, the first day I no longer worked. Well, I was working and it was a job for Mr. Smith but no longer for my on-line firm. But first! Shortly after cleaning up the kitchen Mr. Smith told me to put on the bikini he handed me and meet him "pool side." And do you have any idea of what bikini he gave me? Yes, you're right it was an 'itsy bitsy yellow polka dot bikini' that of course I would wear for the first time any day. You laugh but it had tie strings and all. Do you remember that song? Shit?it was running through my mind as I put the bikini on. She was afraid to come out of the locker, She was as nervous as she could be. She was afraid to come out of the locker. She was afraid that somebody would see. Ten minutes later I was 'pool side' with Mr. Smith on what turned out to be a 'too perfect' California sunshine day. Especially after Mr. Smith handed me some deep tanning lotion and told me to rub it over every part of my body not covered by the itsy bitsy yellow polka dot bikini. Actually a smile came over Mr. Smith's face as he handed me the lotion and said that. For the next two hours Mr. Smith had me lie out in the sun. He would tell me when to turn over and when to put more suntan lotion on. I was allowed to go for a swim twice, but only if I could walk to the edge of the pool as a sexy woman wearing such a revealing bikini. Obviously the first couple of times he made me go back and lie down. Mr. Smith said, "You cannot cool off in the water until you look sexy enough to swim. Also, you must try to be feminine when you swim as well. Soon this will come more naturally but until then I expect to see you try very hard to please me." It's funny, by not raising his voice or yelling he mesmerized me into learning to please him. (And of course, if you still need to know, the thought of any alternative to not pleasing him.) Finally I walked to the pool in my bare feet moving the weight from one leg to the other so my ass cheeks would rise and fall. It made me realize all the girls are moving in such a manner as to entice you for sex yet not giving it out gladly and quickly. Of course, this was not going to be my fate. I was about to learn I would entice, I would put out and I would obey. After two hours Mr. Smith had me bring lunch out to the pool. He had a roast beef sandwich on organic bread (what bullshit) and some fucking organic beer. Can there really be organic beer. Shouldn't that be an oxymoron? And what was I having? He had me make myself a crappy girly salad of greens and half a can of tuna (in water), a sprinkle of vinegar, oh, and a glass of water. Then back to sunning myself, jiggling my ass (I guess by dropping my hip) and then a girly swim. I must have improved because he didn't stop me during the afternoon from swimming. But that led to the next thing. Mr. Smith called me into the living room (yes by ringing that damn thing in my ear.), unzipped his fly and said, "Sandra I want you to suck the cum out of my cock and into your mouth. Then show me and when I say so you'll swallow it." First, I was in my living room in a yellow..., you know what. I can't even get use to being called Sandra and then he expected that I suck him off? He must have seen the repulsion in my eyes since he said I'd be punished for the disobedience in my face and I should, "just do it." He sounded like a XXX Nike commercial I hesitated and he slapped my ass on the skin below the bikini saying, "after you suck me off you'll stand in the corner with my cum in your mouth for fifteen minutes or have you decided to change your mind and go to jail?" So, I already knew there was no turning back but that didn't help my revulsion. Kneeling there with his cock in my mouth Mr. Smith grabbed my ears and pumped his cock in my mouth. He wasn't mean but of course he wasn't being pleasant either. No, he was just using me like the Romans he had talked about. I was an object. And then I had my first realization. I had been chosen because... (This part is deleted by Mr. Smith.) Finally I felt his warm cum slosh on my tonsils. Actually it didn't taste as terrible as I imagined. Mr. Smith pulled out and said for me to show him. "Lean you head back," he said. I did and his cum puddled up in the back of my throat. "Good girl," Mr. Smith said, "Now go stand in the corner, facing the wall, with your head back until I say your time is up. Then you will swallow and come back here and thank me for letting you swallow my cum. You will always thank a man for using you when he feels it's appropriate. Pay attention to the signs as to when to say 'thank you'. If you miss the signal you'll be punished. You are here to serve men, a very unique group of men." Standing in the corner with my head back with his cum coating my tonsils for what seemed like forever but then he said, "Swallow first girl and go to your room. I can't really write much more. I am really ashamed. Where is Michael? Who is Sandra?