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Making Wishes By Thames It wasn't the sort of thing that should have fallen into the wrong hands. Nevertheless, the vessel was drawn toward the desperate and the lowly, toward those whose lives needed desperately to change. So it was perhaps fitting that it ended up at a bar. Jack Booker sat at the bar, grinning, but unhappy. He was lonely, but was too self-absorbed to admit it. The fact that he spent so many of his nights sitting on that same barstool should have been testimony enough to that. Of course, he would have preferred to spend his nights in bed with the beautiful women who often frequented the bar, but it was rare that he met with any luck in that regard. His face was asymmetrical, but could still be considered attractive if not for the way he tended to leer out at the world beneath his heavy brow, especially when he was looking at women. Tonight was not going well. He was laughing along with his buddy Kevin after striking out again. When they quieted down, Jack turned his grinning face back toward his glass. He had taken to ordering whiskey by the half pint--a habit which also hurt his experiences with the ladies. The bar had an eclectic collection of glasses--part of its charm--and this was a glass he didn't recognize. It certainly wasn't your typical glass. It was wide at the bottom and came to a narrow neck at the top before opening gracefully. Whiskey was running in slow rivulets down either side of the glass. Absent-mindedly, he wiped at the rim of the glass. It took a moment before Jack realized something had changed, that the lights and the noise had shifted. Kevin was saying something beside him, but it was muffled. There was a soft glow coming from his other side. When he noticed the oddity, he turned to see what was up. To his surprise, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen was on the barstool beside him. Her slender frame was barely clothed, leaving smooth, dark skin exposed. Her dark complexion somehow seemed to glow, even where it was concealed by tiny swatches of fiery red fabric. Her outfit amounted essentially to lingerie. Some gauzy material hung over clearly visible underwear. The panties stretched tight across her wide hips and hugged the triangle of her sex closely enough to show the cleft between her labia. The bra was a lacy little thing that only seemed capable of holding up her enormous breasts by some sort of miracle. Full, round, and taught, each one almost as big as her head, they seemed to ignore gravity. The face above them was framed by hair as black as night. Fiery eyes looked out, sparkling with purpose and with just a little bit of mischief. "Sweet Jesus," Jack said. "Where did you come from?" "You summoned me," she said in an accent that was difficult to identify. "No shit. Right out of my best wet dream." "You rubbed my vessel. I am here to grant you three wishes." Jack looked around the bar for people in costume, wondering if it was Halloween or something. But no one else seemed as strange as this woman. Oddly, no one seemed to notice her either. How could they not? This chick put the best photoshopped pin-ups to shame, and here she was, talking to him. It seemed too good to be true, which is why he asked, "Are you for real?" She smiled simply and beautifully, like she was used to such questions. "Absolutely. You see, I'm a djinn--a spirit born of desire, and I am bound to you until three wishes have been granted." "Holy shit!" Jack said gleefully. "This is the best day of my life." "Possibly," the woman said. "That depends on how you use this moment. You see--" "Can I wish for you to fuck me?" Jack interrupted. The woman pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. Apparently this was not a particularly unusual response either. "Technically," she said, "yes. But it's unlikely. In a moment, you won't remember I was ever here." Jack shook his head, eyes wide and clearly focused on her cleavage. "Doubt it. I could never forget a pair of tits like that." "Charming, but I'm afraid that's not how it works." Jack was wearing his leering grin. "So then how does it work? Do I have to buy you a drink first? Take you somewhere nice for dinner?" The woman, spirit or not, was clearly getting frustrated now. "You're not listening. When I'm gone, you'll forget all about the wishes. But after you have expressed wishes, I will grant them all in one magical change." Though he clearly hadn't been following from the beginning, Jack was now clearly confused. "Is this some sort of role-play?" he asked, "'cuz I don't know what you're going for. You've got me hard as a rock, but my balls are getting blue here." The woman snapped her fingers, and Jack's head snapped to attention, his eyes fixed on hers. "Listen," she said, "I'm a djinn. I grant wishes, but only the ones you make when you don't know they're going to be granted." Jack was thoughtful for a moment. "But... how am I supposed to make wishes if I don't know I've got a genie, or whatever?" The woman nodded, satisfied that he was now paying attention. She snapped her fingers again, and the magic that had held Jack transfixed released. "It may take some time. I once had a master who took sixty years to make his wishes. But that is what this opportunity is for," she explained. "Take a moment to search your heart, to purify your desires, and to purge all that is excess. You might be surprised how easily we express the desires closest to the surface when deeper longings remain hidden." Jack wasn't listening. If he was, he might have been able to seize the opportunity to understand what it was that made him so miserable most of the time. But Jack was not a deep or reflective person. It meant exploring or exposing his own insecurities. It was easier to stay at the surface. So maybe things wouldn't have been different, even if he had listened. As it was, he found something different to focus on. When he had gone a moment without speaking, the djinn finally realized the problem. "You're staring at my tits, aren't you?" "They're just so... I mean fuck! What else am I supposed to want?" She rolled her eyes again. "Please, take a moment to reflect. This is your only chance." "Can I just give them a quick squeeze?" She shook her head and shrugged. "I'm sorry Jack; your time is up." She snapped her fingers, and the world went back to normal. "My what... ?" Jack didn't know why he was asking the question. He looked over at Kevin who was still happily sipping his beer. "Were you saying something?" Jack asked. "Hm?" Kevin said turning from his beer. "No. What's up?" "I don't know," Jack said, feeling a bit unsettled. "I'm just... really fucking horny all of the sudden. "Hey man, I don't need to hear that." "Well then help me find some chick to score with," he said brashly. "You're my wingman, aren't you?" "Whatever, man," Kevin said, indulging Jacks fantasy of being a ladies' man. He turned toward the door where a tall, curvy woman had just strutted in. "How about her?" Jack gave the woman the up down, quickly taking in her relaxed business attire, luscious curves, medium complexion and long legs. The woman was beautiful, and she was most likely way out of his league. "Nah, too tall," he said, protecting himself from the indignity of being shot down again. "Oh, oh. Here comes a good one." "Holy shit!" Jack exclaimed when he saw the blonde Jack had indicated. "Look at that ass!" The woman's ass certainly forced itself to be noticed. A silky black miniskirt barely covered either end of a generous posterior sticking out like a shelf behind her. And with each step she took on her high heeled black shoes, that bubble butt shook tantalizingly and the already miniscule skirt swished to the side, revealing even more creamy white flesh beneath. "Damn," Jack said in admiration as he eyed the pink strings of a thong arching above the waist of her miniskirt and clinging to her sensually swinging hips. "I wish I could get into those panties." It was the sort of comment Jack Booker made on a regular basis. Tonight, however, that unassuming phrasing mattered. It was his first wish. "I know, right?" Kevin was saying. "She's gotta be the hottest woman I've ever seen." As much as Jack's dick ached just looking at the woman, he knew that she too was out of his league, so he again looked for a way to find fault. It was rather difficult in this case, especially since that pink thong kept pulling his eyes back to what he knew was a perfect ass. Below that were smooth, slender legs and dainty feet. Above the ass was an exposed midriff that revealed a flat stomach and a gracefully cinched waist. The effect was achieved thanks to a tight, pink tank top (matching the thong). Her cleavage was framed by wavy blonde locks that shook with each step just like her ass. She had soft, delicate features, but dark eyes stared out intensely from her otherwise fair complexion. It made her seem intense--and hungry. This was complimented by the slight parting of her luscious pink lips. She was a bombshell, plain and simple, and she was young, probably just out of college. But as Jack looked her over for the fourth (or was it fifth? Sixth?) time, there was one place where his gaze didn't linger. The pink top stretched snugly around a pair of perky tits, but they didn't thrust out into space the way her ass did, or the way the woman's before her had. "I don't know," Jack said finally, "I kinda wish her boobs were bigger." Of course, Jack paid no attention to the fact that it was the second time in only a minute that he had used the word "wish." Kevin couldn't understand his friend's apparent standards. "Bigger?" he said in disbelief. He liked tits as much as the next guy, but he was guessing this girl was already a C cup, and from his perspective, she was already perfectly proportioned. But that's not how Jack liked them. "Yeah man," he elaborated, "like if they were so big they ripped open that teeny little shirt she's got on. I mean real melons." He cupped his hands and suggestively hefted an imaginary pair of tits. Kevin chuckled slightly and shook his head. Then a voice behind Jack said, "You're disgusting." Feeling emboldened thanks to all his whiskey, Jack turned around ready for a confrontation. "Excuse me?" he said with false bravado. But the person he found sitting next to him was not what he expected. Sitting on the next barstool was the woman he had recently deemed "too tall." Up close, she was even more beautiful than he had thought. She was dressed classier than the blonde, but with just as much sex appeal. She looked to be a bit older too, probably in her mid-thirties, but she still seemed full of vigour and had the light of experience behind her eyes. A pair of black stiletto heels likely contributed to her height, but her long toned legs, currently encased in dark nylons, would have made her plenty tall enough. A pencil skirt stretched to contain her shapely hips, and a silky blouse, perhaps ordinarily conservative enough for a workplace, was almost pornographic on this woman. That was because of the enormous breasts that it struggled to contain. They weren't quite melons, but they were more than a handful. A black bra was visible through the fabric and enough buttons were undone that Jack now had an unrestricted view of the deep cleavage where those big tits squeezed together. But this woman was looking at him with disgust--even more so the longer he unashamedly ogled her tits. "Don't you have any respect for women?" she asked. "For hot ones like you, I do." She rolled her eyes. "Pig." "Hey," Jack said, his confrontational fire not totally extinguished by his extreme lust. "It's a compliment; what's the big deal? Are you a lesbian or something?" The woman pursed her full, shapely lips. "That's not the point. You are objectifying and devaluing women. It's harassment and--" But Jack barely even heard the criticism. "You are, aren't you?" he said. "You're a lesbian!" The woman was even more annoyed now with the idiot at the bar. "Look," she said, "I don't see what that has to do with--" But now Jack was laughing. "God, I bet a bitch like you just loves using a strap on, don't you?" Her eyes widened. It was just for a moment, and she quickly regained control, but it had been more than enough for Jack. "That's what I figured. Damn, I wish I could see you all dressed up in leather fucking another chick--maybe even join in myself." Suddenly, the world grew hazy again. The same way it had when the djinn had first appeared. Immediately, Jack could remember the entirety of that first exchange, but he wondered why that magical woman would be returning now. He couldn't remember making any wishes. And then, Jack heard her voice, "Well, that's it." She was behind the bar now, glowing softly, her large breasts seeming like they might spill out onto the polished wood surface at any moment. "You have made your three wishes," she said. "What? When?" The djinn enumerated the list: "First, you wished you could get into the blonde's panties. Second, you wished that her boobs were bigger--real melons, I believe you said. Bursting out of her shirt." "Yeah, like yours," Jack interrupted. She rolled her eyes and continued, "And third, you just wished to be able to see the woman beside you dressed in leather, screwing another woman with a strap on, and to participate." Jack could now remember his phrasing in each of those instances. And while it wasn't necessarily what he would have most desired in the world--wealth, good looks, and fame would have been nice--he had to admit that it sounded like a really good series of wishes. The djinn continued: "I can only change the world once for each person who makes wishes. In an instant, I will have altered reality in a way to that all your wishes will be granted, as promised." "Bring it on!" Jack cheered. The djinn snapped her fingers. * * * * The first thing Jack noticed was a slight soreness of his body: his wrists, his feet, his chest, but he was very quickly distracted by one of the loveliest sights he had ever seen. The room was dimly light by candles, but she was unmistakable. Several feet in front of him was the blonde from the bar. What is more, just as Jack had wished, her boobs had grown exorbitantly. They must have been F's, maybe even bigger. Her tiny pink tank top, which had already shown off plenty of cleavage, was now falling apart. The slender straps had completely given out, as had the straps of the lacy bra beneath. Creamy white flesh spilled out over the top of what fabric remained. They were full and round, almost as big as her head, with thick nipples topping them off. Hanging from her slender frame, those breasts did look somewhat disproportionate, but Jack couldn't care less. They were the most magnificent tits he had ever seen, and he wanted nothing more than to squeeze them. It would have been easy too. She wasn't just standing there; her hands were tied to the posts of a luxurious bed. It was like she was just waiting for someone to come and ravish her, to tear that little thong off and go at her pussy. This was further emphasized by the surprised and lustful expression she wore on her face: arched eyebrows, parted lips, desire pouring from her eyes. And she was just waiting for him. The only problem was, Jack couldn't move. He tried to take a step forward, but his arms wouldn't let him. In fact, they were being pulled outward. He looked to his right and to his left and found that both of his hands, like the woman's, were tied to bedposts. This made him a bit uncomfortable, but not as much as the slender appearance of his arms and the bright purple polish on his fingernails. "What the hell is--" he started to say, but he never finished the sentence. His voice was wrong. It was high pitched and the intonation was completely unfamiliar. A strange idea occurred to Jack that seemed too crazy to be true. Suddenly realizing that the sore feeling in his wrists was actually due to the cords binding him, he became aware of other sensations as well. There was a sharp pain in his feet and a tugging feeling on his chest. Jack looked back at the woman, who now had an expression of concern on her face. Very slowly, he started to turn his head. The woman did the same. He lifted up one of his feet. She bent one of those sexy, smooth legs and lifted up a high heeled foot. Jack shook his head furiously. The woman did the same, but he couldn't see that, because long blonde locks of hair suddenly covered his vision. Already knowing the truth, but too terrified to admit it, Jack slowly turned his eyes downward to see that beautiful woman's enormous tits up close and personal, hanging from his own chest. "What the fuck!" his new shrill voice called out. Immediately, a door opened, almost as if someone had been listening. "That's the idea," a sultry female voice said. Light was pouring in from the doorway, and Jack looked over to see a luscious silhouette framed in the opening. He couldn't make out her face, but her curves were more than evident. She had wide hips and a pair of full, round breasts. Her shapely legs were perched on a pair of menacingly high heels. As lascivious a man as he had been, Jack almost started drooling just looking at her outline, even though she clearly seemed to be the one responsible for his current situation. "You and I are going to have all sorts of fun." The woman closed the door and started strutting across the room. Without the light from behind her, Jack was finally able to pick out some details. What he saw left him agape. The woman who had entered the room was dressed as a dominatrix. She wasn't just wearing stilettos, but high heeled leather boots that reached mid-thigh, laced tightly all the way up. Below that was a pair of tight fishnet stockings. A leather thong was snug against the triangle of her sex. That torso was encased in a tightly fitted leather corset that pulled in her waist dramatically and pushed up her bulging tits so they looked even bigger. Forgetting that he no longer had the equipment to do so, Jack started fantasizing about squeezing his dick into that impressive cleavage. But the most startling revelation came when Jack was finally able to tear his eyes away from that killer body long enough to look at the woman's face. To his shock, he recognized her. "It's you!" he cried, startled again by the pitch of his new voice. "That's right," the woman answered. "Your mistress has arrived." "No," Jack said. "You're the woman from the bar, that frigid lesbian bitch." The woman stopped suddenly and stared at the captive. Her expression was hard to read, but her dark eyes had a way of boring into his soul. For a moment, Jack deeply regretted his choice of words. If he wanted this woman's help, calling her a bitch was probably not the way to go about it. But then a cold smile started to creep across the woman's face. "That's right," she said, turning toward a bureau Jack hadn't noticed and opening a drawer. "And you're the bimbo slut who literally threw herself at me, begging to be fucked." "No, no, no," Jack said. "You don't understand--" "Oh, I understand perfectly," the woman said. She turned around suddenly with a riding crop in her hand. Now she was walking slowly but purposefully toward Jack. One long leg thrust forward in front of the other, highlighting the graceful curves of her perfectly toned muscles. Her hips swung back and forth with a mesmerizing rhythm. Her smile was even more intent. "I understand that you're a dirty little girl who needs to learn a lesson." With that she cracked the riding crop quickly in her hand. The sharp sound made Jack jump. "No!" he insisted. "This isn't me. I'm the guy who was there. I'm the one you called a pig. My name's Jack." For a moment, the woman halted her advance, thrown off her guard. "I must admit, that's an original one. But a pretty little thing like you deserves a nicer name than Jack. How about Jackie? No, even better: Jacqueline. A perfect name for a delicate thing like you." "But that's what I'm trying to tell you. This is all wrong. This isn't what I wished for. This isn't me. I'm a guy named Jack, and--" The riding crop snapped again. This time it struck Jack just above the waist, where his midriff was exposed. It stung sharply, and he whimpered slightly, but in truth, the shock took the worst pain out of it. The woman was glaring at him again. "Your name is Jacqueline," she said firmly. "And you'll get double that if you contradict your Mistress again. Do you understand?" For a moment Jack didn't understand what was expected of him, but then his Mistress raised the riding crop again. He nodded quickly and said, "Yes." The weapon stayed poised menacingly. "Yes what?" "Yes... I understand?" "And who do you understand?" Jack had habitually avoided intimidating women when he was "on the prowl" and had never been dominated before. But staring at that upraised riding crop, Jacqueline was able to respond on instinct. "Yes, I understand, Mistress," he said. The woman smiled in satisfaction. "Good." She brought the crop down slowly onto Jacqueline's face, allowing is dark leather to slide across his cheek, down his neck, over his chest. Jacqueline was shaking. The first shock of pain had left him somewhat terrified, but there was also adrenaline coursing through his veins, making the ordeal somewhat of a thrill. He received another shock when the riding crop, which had been traveling in a slow spiral over his exposed left breast suddenly passed over his nipple. He gasped at the sudden burst of sensations that leapt through his body, sending every nerve cell into high alert. "You see?" the woman said. "How many guys have such incredible tits?" It was a very good question. Looking straight ahead, Jacqueline could see himself in what he now understood was a mirror. As before, he was focused on the breasts of the clearly female figure he saw. His Mistress's tits were fantastic, but they were dwarfed by his own, which his mistress continued to play with, pushing down hard on one nipple, gently flicking the other, going back to the first and barely grazing it, scraping roughly across the other. To Jacqueline's embarrassment, those nipples quickly grew erect, only intensifying each jolt of brand new sensation. His helplessness, the strange and increasingly pleasurable feelings, along with the thrill of this dominatrix's play soon had Jacqueline's heart racing. And it was all so new that Jacqueline didn't even notice that the bolts of electricity leaping from his tits were persistently concentrating in his groin. He cried out again in an even higher pitch than before. "You like it when I play with your tits, don't you, my little slut?" Jacqueline suddenly realized that he HAD been enjoying it, and the revelation frightened him more than anything he had experienced yet. His mistress, adept at picking up such cues, noticed him grow tense. So, she decided to intensify her approach. The riding crop left Jacqueline's tits and travelled downward, over the crumped fabric of his shirt, across his bare, smooth stomach, along the waistline of his tiny little black skirt, over the curve of his hips, down his thigh, and then along the bottom hem of that skirt. Jacqueline's heart was beating furiously in his chest. Not only was his skin igniting like fire everywhere the riding crop touched, but its ultimate destination was obvious. "Don't..." he said faintly. But even that was too much. Suddenly the whip was moving very fast. It struck Jacqueline once on the leg and once on the opposite hip from where he had been struck earlier. The sudden pain erased his previous thoughts from his head as his Mistress declared, "You never tell me what to do." "Please," Jacqueline pleaded. "This isn't what I wanted. I don't want to do this." "Too bad," his mistress said. "You knew what you were getting into. And you had your chance to back out before I tied you up, but now you are all mine, my darling Jacqueline." And with that, she plunged the riding crop below his skirt. Up until then, Jacqueline hadn't had much time to think about what was below the belt, and since he couldn't see past his enormous bust anyway, there had not been visual evidence to make him confront it. Now it was immediately clear that Jack Booker had quite literally "gotten in the panties" of the girl from the bar, and everything that came with it. His Mistress's riding crop was pressed firmly against his new sex. He was now forced to confront the fact that he had a vagina. What his psyche was still too embattled to accept was that his pussy was already growing warm and wet thanks to what he was feeling. Jacqueline tried not to shudder from the rush of sensation that came from that pressure against his groin, but that just made him squirm more. His pleased mistress started moving the riding crop back and forth, rubbing over a clit which was feeling stimulation for the first time and sending ecstatic bursts of sensation to the brain. Then his Mistress started sliding the riding crop's long shaft of polished wood between Jacqueline's legs. She moved that whip like a violin bow, and Jacqueline's nerves were the strings. Music in the form of soft cooing escaped his lips as the feelings overflowed his ability to process them. So, Jacqueline didn't even that his Mistress had continued moving closer. Suddenly, there was a firm hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in for a fierce kiss. Jacqueline was confused. On the one hand, an undeniably gorgeous woman had pressed her body against his for a passionate kiss. It was incredibly arousing. But on the other hand, this woman was his captor, and he was fairly certain he should not want to be kissing her. However, his arms were tied, and there was pressure--such marvellous pressure--in his groin that further pushed aside all thoughts of resistance. His lips parted in a cry of blissful agony, and a tongue forced its way into his mouth. He had never been kissed this way before: so aggressively and decisively. His mistress now had a tight grip on Jacqueline's long blonde hair and tugged on it firmly to move his head where she wanted it. The hand travelled down to her tits, grabbing as much as it could in one palm-full, and tugging, pinching and squeezing and tweaking the nipples that were now fully erect and sticking out like pencil erasers. Jacqueline cried out again, this time in a longer moan. Perhaps because he already had so little control--because he was already physically so helpless--it became very easy to just surrender to what was happening. After all, it DID feel incredible. So, Jacqueline barely noticed when he started kissing his Mistress back, or when he started ever so subtly thrusting his hips back and forth to increase whatever he was feeling with his new equipment. Quite suddenly, his mistress let go of him and walked away. Jacqueline's mind was reeling. He still hadn't entirely processed his transformation into a woman, and then he had been flooded with all sorts of new feelings. Something still felt off, even though his Mistress had stepped away, but it was hard to tell. And of course it was hard to process anything with blood racing through his body in a potent mix of fear and lust--all directed toward the woman in leather who now stood just out of arm's reach--that is, if he could move his arms. "Now," his mistress said, "let's see if you learned anything. What is your name?" "... Jacqueline." "Very good." Jaqueline suddenly felt a burst of feelings in his groin. It only lasted a second, but it was incredibly intense and, perhaps terrifyingly, seemed to be actually coming from deep inside him. With a wicked grin, his Mistress waved a remote in one hand. "I left a little something for you so that you could receive rewards." "What do you mean?" But she ignored him, asking instead, "And what is my name?" "Mistress," he said dutifully. There was another explosion of sensations, a bit longer this time, then it stopped. Apparently, Mistress had somehow slipped a vibrator up inside his new vagina. He hadn't even noticed it happening, but it was impossible to ignore when she activated it. It seemed like it might turn his entire body into butter that would melt from the inside thanks to the fire growing in his belly. "Next," Mistress said, "Are you a man?" "Yes," Jacqueline said without thinking. Suddenly the riding crop lashed out, striking Jacqueline on the side and then on one of his breasts. He gasped from the shock, though the sensation was different now that he had felt it a few times. It still stung, but there was a thrill as well. But his Mistress looked very severe. "I thought we went through this," she said. She marched forward and grabbed the breast which had been whipped, already glowing bright pink from the blow. Mistress gripped the breast tightly, her long, manicured nails digging into the soft flesh. "Do men have tits like these?" she demanded. "No." Perhaps playing along was the right way to go. Maybe if he was good she would untie him and then he could find a way out. "That's right." She stepped back and activated the vibrator. Only this time, she didn't stop it. Jacqueline started to shake. Feelings were building quickly, intensifying more rapidly than he had ever experienced. Mistress was asking a new question, but it was hard to pay attention. She was saying, "And do men have juicy wet pussies that hold vibrators?" Jacqueline's breathing had become frantic. His body had become white hot, originating from the point where that vibrator was lodged inside him. He couldn't think. Directly in front of him, he could see a gorgeous woman writhing in lustful pleasure. He understood that the woman was himself, but the sight of her still intensified his arousal. He tried to speak, but his voice came out in a series of short, shrill gasps. "What was that?" "Ohhhhh god." "That doesn't answer my question." Jacqueline couldn't believe all that he was feeling. As a guy, this much stimulation would have finished him off long ago, but it was still building. The woman in the mirror was thrusting her hips; her muscles were contracting convulsively. She was so hot, and it made Jacqueline feel hot. He shouldn't be experiencing this, and he knew that it was turning his mind into jelly, that mistress was manipulating him. But all he had to do was answer the question and it would stop. "N... n-n-nooo, ooh, ooooh..." Jacqueline couldn't see the extreme satisfaction on Mistress's face. "Are you a woman?" she asked, still without turning off the vibrator. "Ohhh god," Jacqueline said in a sultry moan. He had barely heard the question, but he understood what was required of him. He understood that he had to give Mistress the answers she wanted and that if he did, he would get to experience more of the exquisite bliss that was taking over his body. "Oohh, yes," she moaned. "And are you a dirty little slut?" "Oh, aah, oh, YES!" "And will you be a good little girl for your Mistress?" "Oh, yes! Yes! Oh, FUCK YES!" Jacqueline squealed as her body was convulsed by her first female orgasm. Her knees gave out and she collapsed as far as her bound arms would let her, still twitching and squirming as a flow of juices trickled down her leg. Finally, the vibrator stopped. "That's more like it," Mistress said. "You see what nice things happen when you do what Mistress says?" Jacqueline looked in the mirror and saw that beautiful woman panting as she recovered from the most intense experience of her life so far. Her hair had gotten quite chaotic as she thrashed about, and her clothes had gotten even more dishevelled. What remained of her top and her bra had fallen down to her spreading hips, covering her midriff, but fully exposing her breasts. By contrast, the miniskirt had started riding up as she had unconsciously started parting her legs. However, it still kept her most feminine trait hidden from view. Jacqueline looked at this ravished beauty and could finally identify with her--finally accept that it was truly her own reflection. Mistress strutted around her prize, pleased with how completely she had overwhelmed the poor girl. That bit about being a man was strange; obviously some sort of role-play, but she had seemed so sincere. And that orgasm--it had been like a true sexual awakening. Mistress had dominated wilful girls before, but none had seemed this fresh--or this beautiful. It had been a long time since anyone had stoked her fires so hot before. She was eager to get to the pleasures ahead, but she still had to take the appropriate time. Now that the girl had been conditioned, it was time to truly make her a slave to pleasure. Mistress walked up to Jacqueline and reached below her skirt. The girl looked back at her Mistress with nervous eyes until she felt a tugging in her groin--the completely new sensation of something being pulled out of her vagina. Even though she hadn't even realized at first that anything was inside her, she now felt a void, a strange longing to be filled. But Mistress was holding something in front of her face. It looked like a tiny little egg on a string--the vibrator. "Suck it," she said. Jacqueline was nervous and confused and still wasn't quite thinking straight, but she could see the riding crop in Mistress's other hand and quickly regained her focus. She leaned forward as far as her bonds would let her, craning her neck so that her lips could reach the plastic toy, but she couldn't quite make it. Mistress didn't move her hand any closer, but simply repeated her command: "Suck it." So Jacqueline did the only thing she could, stretched as far as possible, opened her bright pink lips, and stuck out a little pink tongue. The small wet muscle danced around the toy until she was finally able to guide it into her lips. Jaqueline had always kind of liked the scent and even the taste of women's fluids, but it was an entirely new concept to think about tasting her own. To her surprise, she actually liked the taste. And there was something insanely erotic about being made to suck on this object which had been forced inside her. She sucked on it ravenously, running her tongue over the entire surface again and again. The actions were so vigorous, she almost tugged it out of Mistress's hand. Of course, Mistress had watched that little tongue go to work and had felt wetness begin to drip from her own pussy. She was enjoying this evening more and more. When Jacqueline was clearly engrossed in sucking the vibrator, Mistress suddenly yanked it out of her mouth. "That's all for now," she said. "We have more important things to do." She carried the toy back to the bureau and busied herself in retrieving something else. When she walked toward Jacqueline again, she held something fairly small in her hand. It caught the dim light in a particular way that made Jacqueline uneasy. But it wasn't until she felt the cold metal of a flat blade against her cheek that she became truly terrified. "You must hold very still," Mistress said. "I would hate to damage this pretty white skin of yours." Suddenly, Jacqueline was afraid to even breathe. A knife blade was sliding carefully and precisely over her full lips, picking up flecks of saliva as it did. Jacqueline now felt incredibly foolish for allowing herself to give in to this woman. Now she would pay for that foolishness. Still, the only clear thought in her mind was that she must do what Mistress demanded. She also thought this might give her a chance to escape, but that possibility, even that desire, was becoming more and more distant. Meanwhile, that cold, steel blade was sliding ever so carefully across her skin. The dull side of the blade flicked over her nipples, bringing back renewed sparks of pleasure that scattered through her nervous system. Still, the knife crept across her skin, lower and lower. Finally, the sharp end was put to use. Swiftly and precisely, it cut away what remained of her shirt, which fell in tatters at Jacqueline's feet. It was followed by her bra. Already defenceless and tied up, she now felt even more exposed. The knife continued its work. With a quick, firm movement, Mistress sliced away Jacqueline's skirt. She was now laid bare in nothing but a pair of high heels and a bright pink thong. Jacqueline studied her reflection, studied her body now fully revealed. It was the most beautiful sight she ever could have wished for. In fact, she had wished for it. That slender frame, those spreading hips, the enormous round breasts, her perfect complexion, long flowing blonde hair, and lust-filled face; she was luminous with sexuality. She turned herself on just seeing her own reflection. The only things she still couldn't see were pussy and that perfect, shapely ass, accentuated even more now that her thong was fully visible. But she wanted to see it. Jacqueline twisted in her spot to try and see that bulbous protrusion. Mistress laughed. "What a treat you are," she said. "My little narcissist. I can't say I blame you. You have a gorgeous body." She wrapped an arm around Jacqueline's waist and slowly started rubbing the soft skin of her rear, allowing her sharp nails to rake across it, leaving a bright pink trail. "And a magnificent ass." SMACK! Mistress had quickly smacked Jacqueline's bubble butt, then grabbed as much flesh as she could hold, her nails now digging into the flesh, almost to the point of breaking the skin. In a gravelly voice she said, "And that ass is all mine." She now grabbed Jacqueline's thong from the back and yanked on it hard, almost lifting the girl off her feet. "Isn't it my little slut?" Dizzy with the surge of pain in her ass and pleasurable pressure on her clit, but still aware of cold steel next to her skin, Jacqueline nodded. But Mistress looked stern. "Say it." "Y-yes, Mistress," Jacqueline answered. And now Mistress smiled, and with one more quick cut, removed Jacqueline's thong. Jacqueline could see it now in the mirror, her soft little mound and the dark slit of her sex with puffy pink skin surrounding it. Meanwhile, Mistress held the remnants of her panties. The pink material was sticky and wet from that first orgasm, and Mistress inhaled the smell with pleasure. "Your cunt smells delicious," she said. "But how does it taste, I wonder?" The knife slid down, down, down, until the dull end was flicking Jacqueline's clit. She felt terrified and thrilled, intensely alive. For reasons she couldn't even understand, she was aroused. Fluids started to drain from her pussy and onto the blade. Mistress lifted it to her mouth, and her red tongue licked the juices from the flat side of the knife. "Exquisite," she said. "Let me share it with you." And suddenly there lips were pressed together again. This time, Jacqueline did not resist. The adrenaline coursing through her body made her wild and she kissed passionately, rewarded with the sensual taste of her own juices. The fact that somewhere Mistress was still holding the knife kept the thrill alive. Both of their hips started rocking. Mistress slid her thigh between Jacqueline's legs so that the girl could grind on it as she further embraced her sexuality. Suddenly she stepped back again. Mistress usually didn't spend so much time with such intimate actions, but this girl somehow compelled her to. "You're a good little girl, aren't you?" A slightly dazed Jacqueline nodded. "Then you'll get to taste me too," she said. The knife flashed quickly, and one of Jacqueline's bonds was cut free, but with the agility and precision of a practiced dominatrix, Mistress caught hold of the tired arm and held it behind Jacqueline's back. She cut the other bond, and suddenly Jacqueline had both hands tied behind her back. Mistress pushed the girl down to her knees, then stepped in front of her. "Go ahead," Mistress said. "Taste." Jacqueline hadn't even seen the moment when Mistress had removed her leather thong, but she was instantly enamoured with the beautiful site now before her. Below tow voluptuously curvy hips, poised between two shapely legs and accented with the smallest patch of curly brown hairs was a dripping wet pussy. Jacqueline followed this order with gusto. Some of the horndog Jack Booker's old urges swelled to an even greater level now that Jacqueline was being forced into an act of submission she and always enjoyed. She buried her face between Mistress's legs. That soft, pink tongue was soon roaming every surface of Mistress's pussy, inside and out. Mistress held firmly onto Jacqueline's long blond hair, giving it firm tugs as she began to spasm in pleasure. She hadn't realized just how worked up she had gotten. She switched to holding the knife between her teeth so that she could use one hand to hold Jacqueline's head in place and use the other to fondle her own tits. With the added stimulation, there was soon a fire raging inside of her. Though she had to keep her teeth clenched to hold the knife, low moans started to escape her throat. Her chest heaved against the unyielding leather of her corset, making her large breasts rise even higher. Almost like a wrestling move, she suddenly lunged forward, taking the surprised Jacqueline to the floor on her back. Now Mistress was sitting on top of Jacqueline's face, and the girl dutifully kept licking, sucking, and slurping. She took the knife from her mouth and plunged it deep into the hardwood floor inches from Jacqueline's face. Her lips now free, she cried out "Oh, fuck yes! Lick my cunt, you dirty slut." Adrenaline was once more flooding Jacqueline's mind as she plunged her tongue in and out of her Mistress's pussy. Her own body was insanely turned on. She felt as if she was being charged up like some sort of generator. All she needed was for something to plug in, and the electricity would flow. Just then, Mistress cried out in bliss. A cascade of fluids poured from that pussy and Jacqueline did her very best to lap it all up. For a moment, Mistress just lay limp on top of her. Finally, she said, "Holy shit!" and dragged herself to her feet. "You have done very well, Jacqueline," she said. "You deserve to be rewarded." With that, she stumbled away toward her bureau of toys. Jacqueline saw the knife still sticking out of the floor beside her. If she had still been able to contemplate escape, she might have tried to use it. But now the thought seemed incomprehensible. She had just brought her mistress pleasure, it was unthinkable to try to do anything against her. Instead, Jacqueline propped herself up into a kneeling position, awaiting the next command, trying not to think of how horny she had become. But despite her thorough acceptance of her new situation, what Jacqueline saw when mistress turned around terrified her. Even more so, her own desire for it terrified her. Of course, she had known all along that this was coming. Mistress was now wearing a strap on with a thick, ten inch dildo protruding from her crotch. As soon as the twist of her wishes had been revealed, a spot deep inside her had known that sooner or later a rubber shaft would enter her. At first, she hadn't been able to process her own response to that idea, so her mind had blocked it out. But now her mind was free, thanks to Mistress. She knew who she was, what she was for, and what she wanted. She had never felt such a primal need for something before. "Stand up," Mistress commanded. Jacqueline did so. "Stand on the side of the bad." Again, her toy obeyed. "Bend over." She dutifully bent at the waist. Her hands were still tied behind her back, so her face plunged into the bed, thrusting her plump ass out proudly into the air. She spread her slender legs, still perched on a pair of high heels, so that her sex would open wide for her mistress. Turning her head to one side, Jacqueline could see in the mirror the sexy, submissive slut she had become; she could see a beautiful curvy body with enormous pendulous breasts hanging from her chest, and she could see her gorgeous Mistress, poised to plunge a dildo into her waiting cunt. And she could finally see that magnificent ass, perfectly round, thrusting out behind her. She had never been more aroused. Jacqueline didn't know if this is really what she had wanted, but it seemed better than anything she might have ever been able to imagine, and now, she knew exactly what she wanted. "Please," she whimpered. "What was that?" Mistress asked. "Please," Jacqueline said again. "Stick it in me." Mistress spanked that plump ass sharply. "Louder," she said. "What do you want?" "Please, fuck me," Jacqueline cried. Another smack. "Such a dirty mouth," Mistress said. "Is that what you really want, you dirty slut?" "Yes," Jacqueline pleaded. "Yes, god yes. Please, I want you to fuck my juicy little cunt, to fuck me so hard I can't--AAaah!" The words were caught off by a burst of sensations so intense that Jacqueline could smell colours, see sounds, and taste pleasure. The dildo that had just plunged deep inside her pussy was a lightning rod for all of the energy which had been building inside her. "Ohhh GOD!" she moaned. Her whole body was crackling with energy. But just when Jacqueline thought that any more pleasure would kill her, Mistress pulled back and thrust again. It was too much. Her body shook and spasmed; she screamed in a primal howl as the feeling of being stretched and filled pushed Jacqueline into her second orgasm. But Mistress was just getting started. Having watched Jacqueline's blissful agony, she started thrusting faster and more vigorously. With each thrust of her hips, the strap-on stimulated her own clit, so that Mistress was soon approaching her second orgasm as well. As Jaqueline had been afraid of not so long ago, her mind had turned to mush. She couldn't think about anything but pleasure. In the mirror, she watched a beautiful woman dressed in leather pounding away at a blonde bimbo. She could see the lustful smile on Mistress's face and felt proud. She decided to stick her ass out farther, to start thrusting back against Mistress so that their bodies crashed together. Her feelings intensified so that she could feel every thread in the bedspread that pushed against her breasts, every hair that thrashed about on her head, every drop of sweat beading on her fair skin as she tried to hold back the tide of pleasure. "Ohhh holy SHIT!" It rose too fast. There was nothing she could have done to slow down the orgasm that crashed over her. Her hips bucked wildly, and she smashed her face into the sheets. The very core her being exploded, and her whole body shook with the tremors. Mistress too felt the wave of pleasure crest and pour over her. She thrust once more deep into Jacqueline's cunt, and then the orgasm washed her away. Her lips parted in a cry without any intelligible syllables, a cry of supreme satisfaction, and then she collapsed onto the bed beside Jacqueline. Both women were panting heavily. Their faces were turned toward each other so that their breath mingled and then entered each other's lungs. Dark eyes looked into dark eyes, and they showed each other the depths of their own desire. Mistress pulled Jacqueline in for a long, deep kiss, then said, "Roll over onto your back. We're doing this some more." With an eager smile, Jacqueline obliged. She parted her legs and raised them high into the air. Mistress stood again and stepped between those legs which immediately locked themselves into place around her waist. "You know," she said, "It's not my usual habit, but I think I just might keep you around for a while." Jacqueline wanted to say, "Thank you, Mistress," but before she got the chance, the dildo was thrust deep inside her pussy, and the words were lost to a cry of ecstasy--the ecstasy of having everything she could possibly desire.