Interview With A Sociopath free porn video

Interview With a Sociopath By Cassandra Morgan It was overcast on the day Munchkin went to jail, one of those end-of- the-world days. The skies were dark and threatening, and the gray concrete building was stark and barren. The barbed wire coiled threateningly above the walls. Technically, this was a jail, not a prison, but it looked like every prison in every movie she had ever seen. There were no trees, just scrub brush and a faraway corn field. There were unmanned guard towers, just in case unmanned prisoners tried to escape. The guards escorting Munchkin, or Kim Ryan, stopped at the reception gate. A drawer opened, the attendant looking at her from behind the heavy glass. She put her purse inside in. The window closed until the attendant could examine it. She looked at the grounds. There were several bare buildings, warehouses really, to house the inmates who stayed awaiting trial or prison assignment. Police officers roamed the splotchy grass fields. Far away, a half-dozen inmates kicked a soccer ball. To her left, a half-dozen of them huddled together, smoking, vacant looks in their eyes. For them, this is what life had become. The officer led her toward Building Six, which looked exactly like Building Five and Building Seven. She shuddered. She tried to imagine what life was at a place like this, packed in with other inmates. She imagined that some of the buildings housed men and others housed women. Where would a sissy like her go? Jensen Correctional stood in the middle of Ohio, in a desolate part of the West side of the state. It had been built to be a legitimate prison, to house the hard-cases. But it had been de-emphasized over the years despite prison overcrowding. Dr. Kim Ryan was at Jepsen because of a court request. No, she wasn't in trouble She was there in her role as a psychiatrist by request of a Judge Belinda Kirkpatrick. She was here to see an incarcerated youth, a transgender girl who had been in and out of trouble. That's really all Kim knew, but for a psychiatrist, these sorts of requests came fairly regularly from judges looking to help straighten out a youngster who'd become an in-and-outer, a recidivist offender who was going to spend half of her life on the inside. Building Six was one of those dimly lit government buildings, painted in urine yellow. The cells inside had been converted to office space for the most part, with a few interview rooms scattered throughout. The officer escorting Kim seemed to have no time for small talk, either because he was a Joe Friday or because he disapproved of accompanying a sissy. He was a large black man with a glistening shaved head. His arms suggested steroids. They walked into an interview room, and there she was. A young girl with heavy eye makeup. She was wearing an orange jumpsuit. Her hair was blue, spiked. Her lipstick was black. She was staring at the wall, and when Kim entered the room, she did not turn her head. "Good morning,'' the officer said to her. "This is Dr. Kim Ryan. She's here to talk to you. Dr. Ryan, this is Echo Connelly. She thinks she's a bad ass, I'll warn you.'' The girl in the corner lifted her wrists. They were handcuffed. "Is she the reason I'm in these shackles, Jeff?'' she said. "Is she into bondage? Is she gonna spank me.'' "Officer, can we please remove the handcuffs?'' Kim said. "You sure? She really is unpredictable. She might have her hands around your throat any minute now.'' "I'll take my chances, officer. There is nothing for Miss Connelly to gain. She knows she could win a physical confrontation with me. I know it. What's the debate? She can't go anywhere even if she hurts me. Right, Miss Connelly?'' She looked at Kim for the first time. She shrugged. The officer, Jeff Matthews, I think it was, unlocked her. He looked at her as if he didn't trust her. He stood in the corner. "Officer Matthews, could you please leave us?'' "Ma'am? Ma'am, that's not how we do it in here. This freak is a sociopath." "Well, it's how you do things now, unless you wish to have a discussion with the judge. I require privacy, or you'll have brought me to this God-forsaken wilderness for nothing.'' He frowned at Kim. Silently, he turned. He left. The door clinked shut behind him. "Now, hello. I'm Dr. Ryan. You can call me Kim. You're...Echo?'' She looked at Kim. She rubbed her wrist. "I like your dress,'' she finally said. "Did your mom lend it to you?'' Kim smiled. It often started like this. The inmate had to push her, to test her. It was like a game. They always had to show how tough they were. It was a way of establishing dominance. That was fine. I've been seeking dominance for years. "Echo, you probably know why I'm here. Despite the bad checks, despite the drugs, despite the solicitation charges, Judge Kirkpatrick doesn't think you're a hopeless case. With counseling, you can get out of here. I'm your best bet.'' She looked at Kim. "Last Friday night,'' she said, "I sucked seven dicks. What do you think of that?'' "I think you're a beginner. There are girls at the nearest porn theatre who go through a couple of dozen a night. Sweetheart, it isn't the quantity. It's the quality. Seven itty-bitties at a minute each doesn't prove anything.'' She looked at Kim. She tried one more time. "You know I'm a boy,'' she said. "And I let the guard fuck me.'' Kim smiled again. "Well, I'm sure the guard will be spoken to,'' She said. "And if you care, I was born male, too.'' Echo's eyes widened. This seemed to surprise her. She looked me up and down, like she was trying to pick out the male in the image before her. "I never met a headshrinker who was trans,'' she said. "You're really like me. I may not have to hurt you.'' Kim nodded. "If being trans makes us alike, then I am,'' She said. "Honestly? I'm a sissy, Echo. I'm married to another sissy. We both serve our Mistress. I'm telling you this in the interest of honesty. If I want you to trust me, then I feel like I should trust you.'' "You're a sissy?'' she laughed "One of those mincing little faggots who washes the dishes and wears Princess dresses?'' "Yes, Echo. Exactly like that.'' She shook her head. She got a faraway look in her eyes. "I did that for a while,'' she said. "But I outgrew it on my way to the lucrative career of being a whore. These days, when I polish a knob it means something completely different.'' She laughed at her own joke. Kim offered a small smile, letting her know that She appreciated the try at humor but that it was a bit crude under the circumstances. "Hey, can you write prescriptions?'' she asked. "Echo, I'm not a drug source for you,'' Kim said. She shrugged again. "What if I want to score an old lady dress?'' she said. Kim chuckled. "Then I can help you,'' She said. Actually, Kim was dressed smartly. A wine-colored skirt and jacket, a white blouse, pearls. Black pumps with a low heel. But kids always have to make fun of an older person's wardrobe, don't they? If Kim had been a crossdresser when hrr mother was alive, She probably would have done the same thing. "Can you really help me?'' she said, and Kim knew she wasn't talking about clothing. She was talking about life.'' "Yes, Echo. Let's get to know each other. Let me in. Trust me.'' Echo nodded. Then she grinned. "You ever piss on a trans?'' she said. * * * It was either late or early, depending on the way you looked at it. It was just after 4:30 a.m., the forgotten hour, when Munchkin felt a hand slide across her back. She smiled warmly. Kitten was awake. She felt fingertips across her butt, along her arm. She felt lips on her back. "Sleeping baby?'' said Kitten. "Not now, sweetheart,'' Munchkin said, scooting back into her. "How much time do we have?'' "A couple of hours,'' Kitten said. Munchkin lifted her chin. She kissed Kitten on the lips. Their breasts pushed into each other. Kitten reached down, gently lifted her penis. It was already erect. Kitten - Phyllis - didn't get erect that often anymore. Their play these days often included artificial stimulation. But what Kitten had was at full attention now. She gripped both shafts in one hand and rubbed them. They were married. They were both sissies in the service of Mistress Anita, but Mistress had arranged a marriage for them. They were both psychiatrists, old colleagues, and something about their union made sense to Mistress, who had a feeling about these things. And since their marriage, they had fallen in love. Sounds sappy, doesn't it? Sissies in love? But they were completely dedicated to each other, and to Mistress Anita, and to Flower, the third sissy in the household. The work was light. Often, they cleaned rooms that were clean already. Three sissies will do that for a Mistress. But it also allowed Munchkin - Kim - to continue to dabble in psychiatry. Mistress said it was important for her to keep a hand in the real world. Of course, it also allowed the world to smirk at Munchkin, the former guy who wore dresses these days. Munchkin no longer cared. She had accepted her fate. She had no secrets. She knew the gossip continued, and she supposed it always would. But it no longer embarrassed her when old friends saw her as a woman. She was what she was. Kitten kissed her lips, then her nose, then her forehead. It was a gentle suggestion that Munchkin should kiss downward. So she did, kissing the nape of Kitten's neck, and her breasts, and her belly button. Finally, she was there, and she kissed Kitten's small thatch of public hair. She tongued her testicles, lifting each small ball into the air. She licked the tip, swirling her tongue around. She glanced upward, and saw that Kitten's eyes were closed in ecstasy. She engulfed the knob in her mouth, then began to work her face inward and down in a sucking motion. She deep-throated it once, twice. She sucked it hard, deep, wet. She loved the way it felt in her mouth, the weight of it against her tongue. Some sissies try to fool themselves. They call it a clit, or a dinky, or some other pet name. To Munchkin, this was her wife's dick. If you wanted to think of her as gay, that was okay. If you wanted to think of them as two men, or as two women, that was okay. They were lovers. Munchkin stroked her wife's ass. She inserted her middle finger and drove it deep. Kitten moaned and pushed her penis farther. Munchkin bobbed faster, sliding her lips across the veins. Kitten's fingers were in her hair now, guiding Munchkin's head, reveling in the feel of it. "Not yet,'' she whimpered. "Don't come yet.'' And then she did. Munchkin smiled as the sperm entered her mouth, heavy, salty. She swallowed several times quickly. Some of it escaped her lips, flowing down the shaft. She ran her finger along the cock, savoring the excess. She kept the penis in her mouth until it became flaccid. She let it go then, kissing the bulb one final time. She brushed her hair back, then kissed Kitten's belly. "Baby, you are so good,'' Kitten said. "So good to me.'' "I love you,'' Munchkin said. "You want to fuck me?'' Kitten said. "You need to cum.'' Munchkin smiled at her wife. "Turn over,'' she said. They still had time. *** Echo arrived at the office the next morning just before 11. She was supposed to be there by 10. But tough girls are always late. She fidgeted as she moved around the office, talking about her week, talking about her incarceration. As a transvestite, they had kept her alone in a cell. They had taken away her cigarettes, she complained. They had taken away her pills, even the estrogen pills. "I could have used a roommate,'' she was saying. "As long as it wasn't a rapist, I would have given him a ride.'' She laughed hollowly. There was a hardness to her, an edge. But underneath, there seemed to be something light and funny. Of course, she had cut a guy, according to her paperwork. Keep your distance, I told myself. "Echo, what triggered you and trouble? Were you always such a ... bad girl?'' Echo shrugged. She picked a letter opener off my desk and began to play with it. I wondered if she was thinking on who to stab. Me? There were scabs on her knuckles. There was a added white scar above her eye. "You can look all of this up,'' she finally said. "I was a foster kid. I was in and out of homes from the time I was 11. No one wanted to keep me for long when they found out I ... was girly. Not even for the money.'' Kim looked at her. She didn't say anything. She tried to imagine a confused boy, drawn to being a girl, with no one who cared, no one who could explain things to her, no one to say it was all right. It would have been so much harder than I had it. "I was always into skirts. Always. I guess some of us are born to it. That's why my dad left us. Then my mom got sick, and the state took me, and before long, I was playing pass-the-fag with foster parents. No one knew what to do with me. No one cared. Well, that's not true. When I was 14, there was this one couple who seemed to enjoy it.'' "The Bogun Valley scandal? You were part of that?'' "You heard about it? Yeah, some couples were playing swapsies with their kids. Hey, at least I was a girl. There were some kids who were forced into being girls. That wasn't right. "No, it wasn't.'' "So I got thrown back into the system. Then I got picked up by this Johnson couple. A pretty well off couple. Big house. Servants. Ha. They had this maid, Hildie, who took care of me. I still think of Hildie as my mom. She fed me. She spent time with me.'' "What happened?'' "Oh, I got Hildie into trouble, too. I get everyone into trouble. I started hanging out with Hildie, and I'd help her cook and clean. One day, I put on one of her maid's dresses and went to the kitchen. It was months before the Johnsons found out. When they did, they fired her, and they were going to send me to boarding school. "So I ran away. If you want to, you can get lost on the streets. No one really looks hard for you there. No one but the businessmen looking for a little strange, you know? So you sell a little. No one is looking for waitresses at age 17, you know? No one wants a secretary who didn't finish school. Hooking was easy. Hell, I had liked guys since I was 15. Might as well get paid for it.'' I frowned. "Drugs?'' "Yes, please,'' she said. Kim scowled. She laughed. "Hell, yes. What teenager doesn't do drugs? It's everywhere. Your generation likes booze. Mine likes pills.'' She sat on the couch, then laid down, like the stereotypical psychiatric patient. She sat back up. Stood up. Walked around. I wondered if she was wired on something. "So I got into trouble. I didn't have any money to pay this guy who does tattoos. I didn't have rent money, so I wrote a check. I tried to beat it to the bank, but I was too late.'' "Tell me about the guy you cut.'' "Hell, I only cut him a little,'' she laughed. "Asshole wouldn't pay me my money. He wanted his blowjob, but he didn't want to pay for it. So I cut him. On the arm. I should have cut his fucking balls off, you know? It's my own fault. I didn't demand the money up front.'' "Echo, I'm sorry. I know you've had it tough. "Yeah. And you're Mary Poppins.'' "It isn't easy for any of us. So tell me this. Where do you see yourself in five years, Echo? Do you see yourself in a community college? In prison? Married?'' She shrugged. "Maybe I want your job,'' she said. "A psychiatrist?'' "No. A maid.'' * * * The mansion always amazed visitors the first time they were there. It was like a Hollywood Palace, all tile and wood, with elegant lines and green yards. Echo walked into the foyer as if she were an alien who had just landed on earth. Her eyes were wide. Her jaw was slack. She kept spinning in circles as she entered. "My God,'' she said. "Is your Mistress the Godfather?'' Kim stood there in my burgundy-colored maid's outfit, matching Kitten's and Flower's. She had asked Mistress if She could dress professionally when she had invited Echo to dinner, but Mistress had declined. If we were going to allow Echo to see us in our natural state, she said, then we should do so. If Echo noticed, she didn't say anything. She was busy being mesmerized by the house. "You got any hooch?'' she said. Kim looked disapproving at her, but she handed her a glass of wine. She took a large gulp of it. She held it up to the light. "Pretty good shit,'' she said. She looked at a painting on the wall. Two women were holding hands in a field of wheat. "Expensive porn, isn't it?'' she said. Mistress Anita entered the room laughing. She had heard what Echo said, and rather than get snooty over her possessions, she had chosen to be amused. She swept into the room, dressed in an elegant black dress with white pearls. Kim was sure her feet touched the floor, but she seemed to be floating through the room. She was classy, elegant, as always. And like Flower, and like Kitten, Kim loved her more with every beat of her heart. "I am Anita,'' she said, reaching her hand out to shake Echo's. "These maids, and I think you know Munchkin, call me Mistress. I would be flattered if you would do so as well.'' Echo's head dropped, just a fraction. "Yes, ma'am,'' she said. Mistress took her by the arm and guided her across the room. They took a right at the bottom of the stairs and went toward the living room. The carpet was plush. Two velvet chairs sat to the right, facing each other with a small table in between. "Please, my dear. Have a seat. Would you like some more wine?'' "Uh, sure.'' Kim took her glass. Shr scurried away to refill her glass. "So Echo...where is it that you ply your trade.'' "Ma'am? Oh, where do I hook? I move around some in the Combat Zone. If you don't, Ziggy will hurt you. He controls most of the girls down there. He can make it hard to earn a living.'' Mistress Anita smiled, as if Echo was talking about the new line from Liz Claiborne. I had never seen Mistress shocked, or flustered, or out of control. "Is this your chosen field of endeavor, Echo?'' she asked. "Or do you aspire to greater heights of prostitution? There are many, you know, that would fit a beautiful young woman such as yourself.'' "Um, I hadn't thought about it, really.'' "Well, you should. Business is a young woman's game. Whether you wish to be into prostitution, or securities, or something as mundane as psychiatry.'' Kim flushed. Was Mistress trying to seduce Echo? Why would she put Kim down, and subliminally elevate Echo to her level? Flower entered room, as sprightly as ever. She bounced over to Mistress and curtsied. "Dinner, milady. It is prepared.'' "Ah, come along, my dear. I believe we are having Lobster Newburg. My Flower makes a terrific lobster, although I have to tell you, they look like giant cockroaches to me.'' Echo grinned. "I lost you after giant cock.'' The women laughed and moved toward the kitchen. *** When Echo was 16, she had stolen a car. Coked up, she got into a fistfight under the headlights with a genetic girl named Keisha. This was probably as low as it got for Echo. She was arrested, and fortunately, she qualified for juvie. It was the she met a matron named Roxie. Roxie didn't tame her, exactly, but she streamlined her. The fights stopped. The cat thefts stopped. The prostitution...well, it went on. Echo was a street kid, after all. Which explains why she was in the Combat Zone o, a Saturday night. Broken glass on the sidewalk. People screaming out windows. Garish neon lights piercing the night. Ladies of the evening slinking past. Pimps in suits they buy ... somewhere. Kim moved gingerly down the sidewalk, trailing Echo by six yards. A car pulled up. Asked her how much. She just ignored the driver and walked on. "Slut!'' the guy yelled and drove on. What in the hell was she doing here? This had been the grand idea of Mistress and Echo last week when Echo came to dinner. That if Echo was going to have to walk in Munchkin's world, well, maybe she should walk in Echo's. See what it was it like. Taste the night. So here she was, wearing a short red dress and heels. The drivers probably thought she was just another strumpet on her way down, an older hooker still trying to hold on. But there are tastes for everything. Some guys probably wanted a mommy, Echo had said. Echo was wearing a deep purple skirt and a black blouse. She looked hot. She wasn't a prostitute who needed to worry about change, you know? Her blue hair shimmered in the evening twilight. Her legs were perfect. Her breasts were obvious, but not showy. Munchkin looked at her and felt like someone's grandmother. The other girls eyed Munchkin oddly, as if she was some sort of freak. Well, wasn't she? At her age, she had become a fledgling streetwalker. The old Donna Summer song about working hard for the money popped into her head. Roxanne. I'll take hooker songs for 200, Alex. Echo was leaning over the driver's side of a sleek Silver Lexus. She nodded. She turned and walked up to Munchkin. "Hey, you wanna be my wing man?'' she asked Munchkin. "I'm sorry?'' "I have a client who wants someone to watch us. I figured you'd rather do that than get butt-fucked. Not that getting butt-fucked isn't fun. Come on.'' And so Munchkin followed Echo to the car. Echo got in the front seat. Munchkin got in the back. The car pulled away. The driver was an old man, 50s maybe, like one of those models from the men's hair dye commercials. So why was she here. She didn't want to watch Echo have sex, as pretty as Echo was. She wouldn't mind seeing this guy naked, though. She laughed to herself. The motel was what you would expect. Small and cheap, not particularly clean. Munchkin wondered if anyone stayed there for a whole night. Rats wouldn't live there. This was just mattress city. The cops had to know the prostitutes worked there. They probably stopped by from time to time. Like Jeffrey. Echo walked past the guy behind the desk. Without saying a word, the guy slid a key toward her. She picked it up and kept walking. She knew her way around. Room 24-B was her room. She had clothes there. Toiletries. They walked into the room. The John started to undress. Echo reached into her closet, pulled out a garment, and disappeared into the restroom. Munchkin sat in a wooden chair in the corner. No one said a word. Finally, Echo walked out of the room. She was wearing a black maid's dress and high heels. She was wearing a blonde wig. "'allo,'' she said in fake accent, folding his money into her purse. "I am Isabelle. I am your maid.'' *** The guy sat on the bed. "You will make my breakfast,'' he said. "But first, I want you leaning over that chair.'' Munchkin almost laughed out loud. God, the guy was a terrible actor. Munchkin supposed he was trying to be a Master here, that he was going to give a few orders to Echo and then have sex. Munchkin didn't know why she was here. She hoped it wasn't because the guy was dangerous. That was a harsh reality of prostitution. You never knew. Echo leaned over the chair and looked back. The man - he called himself Stephen - lifted the back of her skirt. She wasn't wearing panties. Munchkin saw there was a tattoo on her right buttcheek. Bugs Bunny as a girl. Stephen asked to borrow some handcuffs. Echo said she didn't have any. He settled for a tie, and lashed her wrists together. He spanked her once, twice, three times, just enough to make it turn pink. Echo moaned, and it sounded posed to Munchkin. "You want in on this, momma,'' Stephen said to Munchkin. Munchkin shook her head. "No thank you, stud,' she said. "You're too much man for me. I couldn't handle that cobra.'' Stephen's chest swelled. The truth was that his cock was average at best. But all guys imagine themselves to be mighty, don't they? He reached out, tugged on Echo's hair. He slid his penis along Echo's backside. Munchkin could see Echo's own small cock laying flaccidly against the chair. It was a sissy's dick. It's tiny, and it's non- threatening. Stephen reached around, caressed her small breasts through the dress. Echo whimpered. She widened her feet a bit, as if to invite him to enter her. Finally, he did. He guided his cock with his hand, and without lubing her, he pushed forward. Echo cried out, and this time, Munchkin couldn't tell if the sound was real or contrived. He pushed deeper. Echo shivered. Munchkin suspected there would be blood. He rocked, gently, but as he was at it, he called her a steady stream of names. "Slut...whore...fag..maid...Nancy...pussy...homo...ass- fucker...queer..bitch.'' He told her that she had laundry to do in the morning, that she was going to scrub the kitchen by herself. Munchkin was not turned on. She thought it was disgusting. There was no intimacy here, no regard for the other people. This was payment. It was like taking a car into a shop to get a tire fixed. Finally, he came. Not a lot. He shook, and he was done. Echo touched his face. She smiled. "You are so good to me, baby,'' she said. "You're the best Master a girl ever had.'' "Thanks, baby,'' he said. "I just wish my fucking wife would pick up a newspaper.'' Echo laughed. "She doesn't appreciate you like I do,'' she said. "I bet the folks at the shoe store don't either.'' "Well, that's why I have you, Isabelle. Look, here's an extra 40. Twenty for you for the third girl, and twenty for your mom.'' Echo laughed. She took both bills. "Next week, my Master?'' she asked. "Absolutely,'' he said. "If my wife will give me the evening off.'' * * * Later that day, Echo stood in her apartment and fingered a black maid's dress while talking to Flower. She loved the material. She loved the sleekness. She loved the look. Was there ever a more exquisite dress? She imagined it on her, dangling around her legs, hugging her curves, accenting her breasts. "I think it's you,'' Flower said. "Nah. I couldn't be a maid. I'm too mouthy. I'd get spanked too much.'' Flower tittered. "How much is that?'' "How did you know, Flower? You've been a sissy longer than any of them.'' "I didn't know. Not for sure. I just like girls' clothes. I just thought I was another gay kid who didn't fit in. Then I got into the domination scene. I liked the control. I thought I was a normal kid back then, so I liked being exposed. When I had a Master tell my father, it was the greatest day of my life. I was hard for a week.'' "Big bulge, huh?'' Echo giggled. "Tiny bulge,'' Flower corrected her. "I am famous in three states for the smallness of my penis. A baby's finger.'' Echo laughed. "Braggart!'' Flower grinned. "Well, if guys can brag about how big they are...'' "Do you love Anita?'' "Oh, God yes. She is my sun. I love her so much. She's beyond being a woman, and she's beyond being a man. She's perfect.'' "I want that,'' Echo said. "I want someone in control. I wouldn't be an easy sissy, but I'd be loyal.'' "You wouldn't miss hooking?'' "God no,'' she said. "Sweaty fat guys in your ass? Strange balls on your chin? Blow jobs to people who don't bathe? Most of the girls die young and ugly. Everyone thinks they're going to marry Richard Gere. But that doesn't happen.'' "Echo, how old are you?'' "I'm 19. You?'' "27.'' Echo reached out, took her hand. "Close enough,'' she said. Flower leaned in and kissed her, softly, sweetly. Now,'' Echo said, "let's check out how little that penis is.'' * * * In a nicer hotel, in another part of town, Anita leaned back on fluffed pillows. She looked down, where Jeff Matthews was busy licking her. "There, baby. A little faster. Come on now. A little deeper.'' Jeff had changed uniforms for the day. He was no longer wearing a law officers' blues. The badge was gone, and the gun, and the cuffs. Instead, Jeff was wearing the most delightful pink Maid's outfit, a really frilly princess version. Anita smiled at how fast she had been able to get him into it. She supposed there was some maid in most men, some part of them that was willing to kneel the first time someone demanded it. Oh, there were true submissive, genuine sissies who gravitated toward the lifestyle from the time they were little boys who wanted to be little girls. But even straight guys, macho guys, weren't that far away. She looked at the black bald head in her lap, at the thick neck and the bulging arms. Flower passed. Munchkin passed. Kitten could pass in certain light. But Jeffrey? He was forever going to be a guy in a dress. Anita could soften him some, could make him mince, but not even she could undo nature. Sometimes, that pissed her off. "You are so pretty, my sissy,'' she whispered. "I cannot wait to see you suck a cock.'' Jeffrey shivered in anticipation more than in fear. But there was some fear there, too. Soon, Anita thought, she would turn him. The other guards would like their own sissy. Jeff would like it, too. Serves him right for Echo. What was it about this woman? No one else had seen this side of him, the side that had been into his sister's dresses when he was a kid. He was large teenage, a football player who good enough to sign with Toledo. But he feared he was gay, and he knew he was a crossdresser. They weren't always the same thing, he had read. With him, there was a connection. Anita - she called herself Mistress - reached over as he lapped at her. She opened a drawer on the nightstand. She took out an ominous looking dildo from the drawer and began to lube it. Jeffrey tried not think about it. He kept licking. Jeffrey had not made the connection yet. He had screwed Echo, Munchkin's new client. This was payback. There were a great many things that Munchkin did not tell Anita about her cases - and Anita allowed that - but she had told her about her having sex with the officer. Now? Now there would be some lovely photographs to spread around. The law had its justice. Anita had hers. But for now? "To the left sweetie. There. Now go deeper. Use that wonderful tongue.'' * * * The Daystar Diner is kept in business by cops and hookers, and both sides know exactly what the other does for a living. It is a strange symbiosis, the women who sell themselves and the men who are supposed to forbid it. But you can't stop prostitution, and most cops don't even try. Oh, every now and then, a cop would want a little, and sometimes, it's good for business. Both Munchkin and Echo were sitting in a booth on the right side of the diner, drinking coffee, picking at toast. Munchkin was telling Echo how intimidated she was to enter her world. "Same with me,'' she said. "You are all so ... proper. I'm out of place. So coarse. So crude.'' "You're fine,'' I said. I stirred my coffee. I looked at her. I was beginning to understand her, I thought. "Doc...Munchkin. What's it like, being a sissy? Is it hard?'' I shook my head. "If you have a real inclination toward it, it's not hard,'' I said. "It's long. And sometimes, the chores are a bitch. You want to know the truth? I fucking hate cleaning dishes. But I do it, because it's part of the job. I like to cook, but Flower does most of that. I don't mind ironing, but Kitten likes to do that. So I'm left with the pots and pans a lot. Eh, could be worse.'' "I'd be a lousy sissy,'' she said. "I have a smart mouth.'' Kim shrugged. "Echo, there are all sorts of sissies,'' she said. "All sorts. There are meek subs like Flower. There are sissies who sleep with sissies, like Kitten and I. I'm not an expert; I'm just one piece of the puzzle. There are mouthy subs and pet subs and slave subs and pain subs and pee subs. If you were a sissy, you'd be what they call a brat. Sometimes, a brat actually runs things with her domme, she'll just be submissive when she does so. You can find the relationship you each require.'' Echo smiled at that. Then she did the damnedest thing. She leaned way over the table, cupped my cheeks in her hands, and kissed me. Long. Deep. Wet. The entire diner was looking on, but Echo didn't care. I leaned back, and she leaned farther toward me till she was almost laying on the table. Kim finally broke free, gasping. "Echo!'' she said. "We can't. I'm a married woman!'' Her eyes twinkled. "But you fuck around with Mistress, right?'' "Um, yeah, but ... '' "And you fuck around with Flower, right?'' "Yeah, I guess.'' "So why not fuck around with me, baby? I'm sweet.'' Kim stammered. She blushed. She felt awkward. Echo laughed. "Come on baby. I have the sweetest little cock. It cums ice cream.'' Kim looked at the floor. "Echo... I can't. You're my patient. You're a child. It wouldn't be right.'' Across the table, Echo was laughing, "Does a brat do that?'' she said. "I can't believe you fell for that shit.'' Kim threw a napkin at her. The bitch had fooled her. She thought she wanted me, and she was just trying me on like a pair of heels. That was good. That was a relief. But she did think Kim was cute, didn't she? * * * It was a lovely day at the mansion. The flowers were in bloom, and the hummingbirds were flitting about. Mistress and Echo walked across the meadow, picking an occasional flower, talking about life. They both wanted to lose five pounds. From where, I had no idea. They wanted to cut down on their smoking. They both liked the new Batman movie. Around them was a comedy. Three sissies, trying to walk outside in heels, stumbling and almost falling, leaning on each other, in shimmering pink dresses. There was nothing dainty or feminine about the three of them. "Check out April, May and June here,'' Mistress said, laughing at us. "Who?'' "Daisy Duck's nieces. Tell you what, though. You put a good-looking guy in the middle of them, and they'll quit stumbling. My girls do love their dicks.'' Echo laughed. "Mistress Anita, might I ask you something?'' Echo said. She was in a summer dress, blue with white yellow flowers. She looked like a rich daughter on her way to the club. "You know you can ask me anything, pet,'' she said. "What's it like to be a brat sissy?'' Anita walked. She thought for a minute. "Well,'' she said. "It takes a great mind, quick and clever. You can't fake funny. If you do not amuse your Mistress, or your Master, then you're just the court jester. Nothing is as stupid as someone who is not funny. But I think you have a fine mind, Echo. You make me laugh. Do you think you could do the sissy part.'' "I'd like to try,'' she said. "I've seen Dr. Ryan work. I could picture myself doing that. I love the clothes. I'd love the control. There isn't much to humiliate we with, but if I could find someone who doesn't mind that I've been a hooker, then we could give it a go.'' Anita reached down, picked a purple flower from a bush. "Have I ever told you about Master Thor?'' she asked. * * * Thor Lindbeck was a Master. He was also a professor of sociology at the UC. Mistress Anita loved matchmaking, and she had a pretty track record. Her instincts were wonderful. For instance, I probably would have fixed Echo up with a Mistress. But Anita thought she would prefer a man's hand - or rather, a man's gland - better. He was a serious man by nature. Perhaps that is why he was attracted to Echo's playfulness. She was sassy and mouthy and funny. But Thor quickly devoted a look that let her know playtime was over. He was a strong lover. He rarely touched her own strived penis, only when she needed it. But had had a glorious cock, and he loved penetrating her bottom. As for a Echo, she was in love. Every time they made love, she forgot another bad thing that happened in her life. Her scars faded. They were dating in a week. In two, Echo was wearing maid's dresses, bustling about their home, humming to herself. She seemed happy. Thor seemed happy, too. And Anita? Anita was Anita, above the fray that most of us find life to be. She was bigger than the world, bigger than the mundane problems that weigh us all down. Mistress always knew better. As her ass lowered onto my face, I tried to keep that in mind. (c) 2015 by Cassandra Morgan