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"This isn't a matter of choice anymore," Amanda said, firmly, struggling, I think, not to sound angry. Still, her voice could not hide her frustration. "You've run out of options here - we've run out of options - and you know it." Sitting at the table with us, our best friend, Missy, sat tight-lipped and silent. She had to know how devastating for me this was, but she also knew that Amanda was right. All Missy could do now is offer me moral support. "This isn't fair," I mumbled, not so much trying to make an argument, but rather saying it in an attempt - a miserably ineffective attempt - to make myself feel better. Looking at Amanda, I said, "Back when we signed the deal, we agreed - it was part of the contract, for Christ's sake - that I could be artificially-" "All that's changed," Amanda said, "and you know why it's changed." "But the lawyer said...-" "Does it look like we could pay that crook to fight this for us? And there's no guarantee at all that we'd win." Missy shook her head sadly. "You won't win..." "I just want to wait until...-" "It can't wait," Missy spoke up, finally. More than anyone, she knew the legalities inside and out, and I knew she wouldn't have said anything unless it was true. "If you're not pregnant in thirty days, you've defaulted on your end of the agreement, plain and simple. Now, since I don't think it would be safe to count on conceiving the first time you...well, you know..." Her pause was awkward, and I felt my face flush. "It's only reasonable to figure it's going to take a couple of tries. You can't afford to wait," she said. "But we're jumping the gun here, aren't we?" I asked desperately. "I mean," I pleaded to Amanda, "You haven't even brought up the subject with him, have you?" Amanda shared a secretive glance with Missy that immediately raised alarm bells in my head. "No, not...officially," Amanda said hesitantly. "So what does that mean?" She took her time in answering. "There was this one time, i was discussing your...predicament with him - just casually, nothing serious - and he kind of implied - maybe it was a joke, or maybe it wasn't - that he might be interested in, you know, helping out." "What did he say exactly?" "You probably don't want to know what he said exactly." "Oh, I think i do." Amanda never liked being backed into a corner, and so she chose not to sugar-coat her reply. "He said, 'I'd fuck the little bitch if you want me to." Missy, in spite of herself, looked away as she tried not to smile at this. I turned to her. "You knew about this?" Missy nodded, and Amanda added, "I asked her advice on the possibility. You know, legalities. The blood relation thing." "I told her," Missy volunteered, "That since the blood relationship was on Amanda's side, not yours, that it would be okay." My heart sunk, but it had even further to go. "There's more than that," Amanda said, looking to Missy to continue. When Missy hesitated, Amanda said, "Because the baby would be - officially - a blood relative of mine, we'd have a much better chance of being able to keep it, instead of waiting until you third or fourth." As this sunk in, i almost began to feel dizzy. In the face of what was now certainly a foregone conclusion, Missy reached out and squeezed my hand, saying, "It won't be as bad as you think..." "Easy for you to say..." I was bitter. She eased her hand away, realizing, perhaps, that a second platitude wasn't going to make me feel any better than the first one did. As for me, I was tired of fighting a battle I knew Ii could never win. I glared at Amanda and said, "You've got to talk to him about this. I...I just couldn't." I could have sworn I caught just a trace of a self-satisfied smile cross her lips, and felt a flare of bitterness. "Done," said Amanda. "I know you can't." The look on Missy's face was a strange combination of pity and amusement. Missy's face wore that same look of concern mixed with pity the next day when Amanda arranged for us to meet with...him. My nemesis. My former step son Cameron. He was big, fat, ugly, and, considering the particulars of the situation, terrifying. We'd hated each other since the moment we first met, and a lot of bad blood had passed between us. I tried to assess whether he knew why Amanda had called him over to the house. I guessed that he didn't. We all sat down in the living room, and there was immediate tension in the air, as there always was whenever we were in the same room. I had to suspect that perhaps it was all coming from me, but I couldn't be sure. Cameron never liked Missy, and made it plain from the look on his face. And his contempt for me had been legendary for years, but there was an added dimension now that I'd converted. Cameron's personality had always been liberally doused with sexism, and now that I was a woman, he used it as an additional reason to look down on me. The times we had been alone together since my conversion - thankfully, there were few - the dynamic between us had changed and shifted. Now he acted superior to me. And though I never felt directly threatened, I think that the idea that he could physically dominate me changed things between us in a visceral way. Up until Amanda had revealed to me that she and Cameron had already discussed my "predicament," I never really saw the dynamic between us as having sexual implications. But now, all that had changed, too. Was his arrogant little offer to "fuck the bitch" just his usual hollow bellowing, or was there something more there? After all, wouldn't getting to fuck me for real represent the ultimate subjugation of me? A complete victory over his long-time enemy? And the knowledge that I didn't want anything to do with him, but was legally obligated to allow him access to my body - not quite true, but true enough - would be the icing on the cake. I started feeling dizzy again. Missy seemed to recognize this, and rested a reassuring hand on my shoulder. It was my idea for Missy to be present at the meeting. More and more, it felt like she was the only one on my side, even though it was she who provided the logic supporting the idea in the first place! It was then that Amanda showed just how much she wasn't on my side. Instead of explaining what was going on to Cameron, instead, she painted me into a corner by telling him, "Josie has something she wants to ask you..." I was frozen on the spot in disbelief. How could she?! I felt my face and neck flushing, and i was sure my face had turned crimson. I looked to Missy to intervene on my behalf, but instead, she just nodded for me to go ahead. Never in my life had I ever felt so trapped and helpless. A voice in my head started demanding, "Get it over with, Get it over with..." for I now knew I wasn't going to get any help. I did my best to compose myself, but my voice was shaky and quivering as i began: "Well - as you know - the agreement we made when we entered into the conversion program," I said, trying to make a point by emphasizing the "we" aspect to Amanda, "was that I produce four children over the course of six years. It was my understanding," I continued, "that i would receive in vitro services free of charge to get me pregnant." I swooned on that word. It now had new meaning. "That never happened, for a bunch of reasons, but they've made it very clear that I'm expected to hold up my end of the obligations." My hands were shaking. The humiliation was overwhelming, and I could feel the tears coming. I had the ridiculous thought that I didn't want Cameron to see me with my makeup running. I forced myself to push forward. I was almost positive that he had already figured out where this was going, but he said nothing. I was equally certain that he was enjoying watching me squirm on the hook like i was. "So now," I continued as the tears welled in my eyes, "I'm running out of time. I need to get pregnant in a hurry. If I don't, it will ruin us. I'll never be able to pay what I'd owe them for the conversion." I could see the growing sense of power in his eyes, and it was truly frightening. What would this monster do when he had control - sexual control - over my body? Couldn't Amanda and Missy see this? Of course they could. And Cameron, no doubt, could too. Why wouldn't he say anything? Because he wanted to hear me say it. "So I was wondering," I said, "whether you would consider.... consider..." It was Missy who couldn't take the suspense. "She wants to know if you'll father her first child," Missy interjected impatiently. If nothing else, she certainly cut through the ice...and helped cut to the chase. Finally, Cameron asked, "Are you telling me that in all this time, you haven't managed to find somebody to fuck you? I mean, you're not a beauty queen or anything, but your face turned out pretty nice, and you came out with a nice set of tits..." I blushed again. I hadn't considered that he even noticed things like that. I didn't want to talk about my two earlier attempts at getting my first man. Awkward, ugly, and embarrassing. Fortunately, Missy came to my rescue once again. "There's more to it than that," she said, and proceeded to explain the custodial issues involving blood relations. This seemed to have a profound effect upon Cameron. You could see it in his face. He turned to his mother and said, "I guess this is a pretty big deal for you, huh?" "I want that baby," said Amanda. Cameron sighed, then fixed me with an appraising stare. then he said, "And you're good with this? I mean, we're not going to go starting something and you go getting cold feet, are we?" Now, what I have to admit to here is that I grasped onto the concept of keeping the baby to save face emotionally, to show Cameron that I was coming to him for a cause and not just because i hadn't been able to connect with somebody otherwise. It changed things, for the better, i suppose, although it still gave him control over the situation. "I'll do what it takes," I said, covering up my sense of revulsion with something resembling gallantry. Cameron turned to his mother. "How do you want to do this? When do we start?" the logistics. And he was exactly right. Amanda made a show of thinking this over, but I knew better: She had to have been plotting this out in detail. Still, she surprised me once again when she said, "Well, there's no time like the present, right? I was thinking maybe you could take her home with you tonight. She can spend a couple of days there. Give you some time for things to happen." I felt my stomach tighten and a chill travel the length of my spine. I was expecting at least a little time to prepare. "Today?" "Why not?" She asked. I didn't really have a good reply; the honest answer was because I didn't want to do this at all, but that wasn't going to fly. At the same time, i was also mortified at the idea of going off with him instead of doing what we had to do at home. Actually, though, it made sense. It would have been just a little too extreme, doing it in the same house as Amanda. Missy chimed in, sounding just a little too cheerful. "Come on, I'll help you pack a bag..." It might have been my own paranoia, but I felt Cameron's eyes on me as we walked by on the way to pack my bag. Was he thinking of the things he was going to get to do to me? I couldn't even look at him as I passed. "I didn't much care for sex when I married Tom," Missy told me as she pulled my suitcase out of the closet. "I can remember dreading my honeymoon at first." "This isn't a honeymoon, Missy...." She smiled. "It's what you make of it." "Not this time," I insisted. "It's letting that...pig have his way with me. Over and over again." I was depressing myself all over again. "Well, if you go into it with that attitude, you're bound to have a miserable time." She smiled whimsically. "It took a while, but Tom turned my mind around." I began picking out clothes and putting them in my suitcase. "I'm not sure I need to be hearing this." I knew what she was doing. She was simply trying to lighten the mood. "Tom ended up being so patient with me that I learned to love it. And these days," she snickered, "if I didn't initiate sex, we wouldn't have it at all. Typical marriage." "Maybe," I muttered beneath my breath, "we should have gotten Tom to get me pregnant." "Oh, Amanda and I talked about that..." Yet another bombshell. How much of this could I take? "And?" She shook her head. "He wouldn't go for it," she said, too casually for my tastes, as though it were no big deal at all. "You know how uptight he is, and sex with a convert would just undo him. We weren't really discussing it seriously, though. Just tossing around different ideas." Missy dug into my underwear drawer. "Got any sexy undies Cameron might enjoy?" "God forbid," I said. "I don't want him getting any more satisfaction out of this than he already is." "See, that's been your problem all along," she chastised me. "Right from the beginning, you've been fighting your femininity instead of embracing it. That's why your other dates didn't work out, and now you've got no choice but to be with someone you don't like." I wanted to argue the point, but she was right. I signed up for conversion for the money. I lied my ass off during the screening process. I lied to myself, too, convincing myself that it would be as easy as the shrinks who screened me for the program promised it would be. They didn't care. They wanted people willing to sign up. They wanted babies, period. They didn't really care about any of us. "You never know," Missy teased me. "You might learn to enjoy it." Confirming everything she had just said, i grumbled, "I don't want to enjoy it..." I insisted. "There's no way. That gives him the victory." In a way, I was laying out all the ground ruled in my head as i spoke. "Well, another thing is," Missy said, continuing to pile it on, "you don't know how long this is going to take, either. You could get luck and hit it on the first or second try, but maybe not. If you can get over how repulsed you are by the idea, it might be less difficult for you." I began placing things neatly in my suitcase. Once again, i was fighting back tears. I know that Missy was trying to be helpful, but it amazed me how much she kept missing the mark. "It's like me and Tom and oral sex," she started in again. "Oh, please, let's don't go there..." "No, no, you've got to hear this. This is important. Back when we first got married, I was naive about everything sexually, and giving a blowjob - just the very thought of putting my husband's dick in my mouth, you know? - just made me shudder. I was sure i couldn't do it." Recalling the memory, she really did shudder then and there. "Well, of course, Tom was a lot more experienced than I was, and it turned out that blowjobs were pretty high on his list of God's greatest gifts to man. So, as a young wife, what was I to do?" "Where are you going with this, Missy?" "Just a second. So, what was I to do? Have this great big stigma hanging in the air every time we were intimate? I mean, as time went on, it was going to start becoming more and more important to him, to the point where that's all he was going to think about, and the pressure - that's what it was really all about, the pressure on me - was going to end up messing things up for us in the bedroom. So, i just made up my mind that it was not the big deal I thought it was, and made myself get down there and go to work. I'm not saying I became a blowjob queen, mind you, but I kept Tom happy enough." "Is there a point to all this?" I asked. "Considering the fact that there's no way in hell I'm ever going to blow Cameron?" Missy chuckled. "So you think." Boy, I did not like the sound of that. "And the point," she continued, "is that sometimes, things can get much easier if you just let them." She poked through the contents of my suitcase. "Don't you have, like, a sexy nightie or something you can take?" She began rummaging through drawers again. "Oh, no. Bad enough I have to do this at all. I'm not going to gift-wrap myself for him." "You're not doing it for him, dummy, you're doing it for you. It might speed things up, shall we say, if he likes what he sees. I learned a long time ago that one visit to Victoria's Secret beats having to resort to other measures to get Tom going." Deliberately and loudly, I zipped up my valise. "Case closed," I - almost - joked. "Fine," Missy said, "You remember that when Cameron's got a few drinks in him and wants sex. A baby doll nightgown gets a dick hard a lot easier than a sore jaw..." I walked out of the room at that point. "When should i bring her back?" Cameron asked Amanda - not me, but Amanda. My once-wife considered this a moment, then said, "Why don't we give it a week, and just see where things go from there?" Once more, I felt my heart sink. A week? I was thinking two days at most. (For that matter, I would've preferred going upstairs for a quickie...) But an entire week... Cameron grabbed my suitcase. "This might not have been the best time to do this," he mentioned casually. "My place is a wreck..." In my mind, i was screaming, "Then let's postpone it a month or two!" But I said nothing. Amanda said, "That'll be good. It will give Josie something to do while you're at work." She grinned widely. "It'll be like having your own live-in maId!" This comment did not make me smile the same way it made everyone else smile. And, true to the pattern she had already seemed to have established, Missy continued her winning streak by adding, "Ooh! Do you want me to make you up a little French mail's outfit like the one I made for Molly a few Halloweens ago? You'd look adorable!" I remembered just how adorable her daughter Molly looked in that outfit. "No....." Cameron and I barely said a word to each other in the car. It seemed as though conversation was difficult and awkward for him and damned near impossible for me. I was lost in thought, mostly imagery from the shit Missy had been planting in my head. The problem, of course, was that the romantic in her wanted to view this thing between Cameron and me as a real relationship, and, given her personality, that made sense. Impossible sense. What I think disappointed me was that, all things considered, she, of all people, should have known better than to romanticize this particular situation. The silence in the car was really beginning to unnerve me. There had been so much bad blood between us over the years, bordering on sheer hatred. And now, this. In the past, there had been a balance of power between us. And now, he had the upper hand. My God, what had I gotten myself into? We stopped to get gas, and Cameron asked whether I wanted a drink. That, at least, was something. Cameron was renting a crummy, run-down house several miles outside of town. It was situated along the side of a long, winding dirt road that ran between two county roads. On a good day, it would qualify for "the middle of nowhere." This was a bad day. The sun was setting as we pulled up, a gentle breeze blowing the cloud of dust the car kicked up ahead of us. I'd been to this place only once before, and I can't say I was impressed. I was even less impressed when i saw what his bachelor lifestyle had done to the inside. I was supposed to clean this pigsty? Full time job. Maybe I wouldn't even have time for... The thought melted when Cameron brushed past me with my suitcase, carrying it into the bedroom and depositing it in the floor. Not exactly subtle. The only fortunate thing was that he didn't keep me waiting for what was coming next. "Come here," he said. His voice was low and deep, but not as menacing as it could have been. Without a word, I stepped into his bedroom. I felt dizzy as I stood there, feeling his eyes move up and down my body. I'm sure I looked something less than a knockout. Although I was slow to pick up on the finer points of womanly dress, hair and makeup, I came to realize that since I was never going to be a man again, obviously, I had to learn the tricks of the trade in order to fit in, not to stand out from the crowd. And so I presented myself well as a woman, I guess, but I didn't really have the raw materials to be exceptional. I don't think I'm pretty in a traditional sense, and the extra weight I carried - a holdout from my previous life - was going to eliminate me from fashion model status to say the least. I tried to be attractive, although I was torn between simply being accepted as a decent-looking woman and being an object of desire, which I had little use for. Of course, the impending situation didn't mean I had to be pretty for Cameron, and when the time came for him to take me home for the first time, I decked out in nothing more fetching than a t-shirt and jogging shorts. My long hair was tied back, and apart from a touch of lipstick and a little mascara - if there was any vanity to me at all, it was my eyes - I hadn't bothered with any make-up. That said, I'd seen plenty of Cameron's old girlfriends, and I probably stacked up pretty well by comparison. This thought did not comfort me. Cameron was sitting on the edge of the bet, and with a waggling finger, he gestured for me to come closer. I moved so that I was standing between his opened legs. Was he aroused already? I wasn't about to look down to find out. Honestly, I was angry with myself for even having the thought. The first touch - the tips of his fingers on the outsides of my bare thighs - felt like a tiny shock, and I physically jumped a little before settling back down to endure the caress of his fingers, up and down my thighs. He was going to take his time, and I was determined to hate every single second. "Back when you let them do this to you," he said in a voice barely above a whisper, "I still hated your guts, but I've gotta tell you: I couldn't help staring at you. I can remember one time, right after you got home from the hospital, you were still in rough shape and I almost walked in on Mom and Missy giving you a sponge bath upstairs. I didn't really get to see anything; you were holding something up in front of you, but I thought to myself, "Damn that's fuckin' sexy." His hands moved up to cup the curves of my hips on either side. His grip was firm, his hands so warm I could feel the heat through my shorts. "I like tits," he said. I already knew this. He had never had a girlfriend without a sizable rack. "I want to see your tits. I want you to show them to me." I guess I have to stop at this point to say that he was already affecting me. I put up a big shoe most of the time about how my sexuality remained largely unchanged after my conversion, but that's not exactly true. And while i can say, in all honesty, that I didn't find Cameron attractive in the least, I'll have to fess up to the idea that having hands stroking my legs and hips was definitely doing something to me. It seemed like the more I fought against it mentally, the more my body sent signals of acceptance. This was why it knocked me sideways when he asked me to show him my breasts. It would have been one thing for him to have taken off my shirt and bra. No, he wanted me to do it, which was, I promise, something different entirely. In a way that's hard to explain, it was a little easier knowing that i had no choice in the matter. He was calling the shots. I wasn't initiating this. How much difference did it make? Who knows? I pulled my t-shirt over my head and let it drop to the floor. I couldn't make eye contact but I could feel his eyes on me. The air in the room wasn't cool, but I felt goosebumps raise on my arms and chest. My nipples hardened to the point where they almost hurt. I was wearing a white bra that was trimmed in place, but had smooth cups. I knew he could see my nipples poking through. Physically, I wanted him to touch them. No way I could ask. No way. I reached behind me and struggled with the hooks of the bra. There was a sudden release of tension as the clasp released, and when the straps slipped partly down my shoulders, it drew chills so strong that I involuntarily shook. I couldn't stop now, and with a shrug of my shoulders, it was off completely and falling to the floor. And, strangely, it was then that I looked down to his eyes, but his eyes were focused elsewhere. He did nothing at first, and I already knew his method: he was playing thing slowly. He knew he was driving me crazy. I realized that all these years, I had underestimated him. And this was a scary thought. If it was even possible my nipples tightened more. I was self-conscious about my belly. I wanted him to like what he saw. Goddammit, this was beyond reason. I wanted to be touched by this repulsive human being. God fucking dammit. "Go fetch me a beer." He said it so suddenly and out of the blue, it almost made me jump. "W- what?" "You heard me," he said. "In the fridge." It was like my entire body short-circuited, all of that pent-up sexual tension with no release! The little shit was playing me, and doing a damned good job of it. But I didn't want him to know how well his efforts were working, so I said nothing and headed for the kitchen. Not before, however, he managed to catch me with a swat to the ass - not the playful kind, but one meant to really sting. It caught me by surprise, and I couldn't help but squeal. "That's a good girl," he said as I walked off. Looking back on this moment, I'm convinced that this was the point where our respective roles were cast in stone. What I glared at him and said, "Fuck you, get your own goddamned beer," and that would have been that. Instead, I found myself walking half naked to Cameron's kitchen...like a good girl. On my way there, I happened to catch my reflection in a long mirror, hanging on the back of the front door. Reflexively, I brought my hands up to cover my breasts as I stared at the chubby girl in the mirror looking back at me. How had I sunk this low? And was Amanda, once the love of my life, back at our home, laughing over the thought of me being ravaged by her obnoxious, manipulative son? It was too much to think about at the moment. I started to grab two beers - I sure could have used. At the same, I time did not want to give him another excuse to Lord over me. So I took one beer from the refrigerator and padded back to the bedroom. When I walked through the door, I was momentarily taken aback by the sight of a very naked Cameron, reclining on the bed. He was grossly obese, but the self-satisfied grin on his face perfectly reflected the fact that this didn't matter to him in the least. Directly under his huge belly, his left hand toyed with his cock, which was fully erect. The size was both impressive and, to me, intimidating. He patted the bed beside him as his indication for me to join him. I suppose I could go on quite a while about the impact of this moment. Suffice it to say that it was a different perspective than any I'd had with him before, and it was so intense that I didn't even try to hide the fact that I was staring right at it. That thing, I remember thinking, is going inside me. It's going to give him great pleasure when he does it, and he will plant his seed deep in my body. Moreover, it was at this point that it became so painfully obvious that yes, of course, I would be taking it in my mouth - if that was what he wanted - or whatever else he desired. As long as I was here, in his house, I was a possession. There was no way out of this. Long before I converted, the psychiatrists the made me talk to had assured me that after the physical transformations, an emotional transformation would surely take place. Up until I walked through that bedroom doorway, I refused to believe it. And now, in one sudden, almost frightening moment, I realized that I couldn't stop it from happening even if I wanted to. He patted the bed again, this time, more insistently. "Come on. I'm thirsty." Even then, I was catching on to his methods: he was indicating that the beer was more important to him than I was. He was subjugating me and it was brilliant because it was working despite the fact that I knew exactly what he was doing. I crawled onto the bed next to him, and I remember being conscious of the way my breasts moved as I did it. Was it enticing to him, the way they dangled in front of him? Or the way they fell as I lay on my back, my tight nipples pointing at the ceiling? You have to remember that by now, I was genuinely horny in spite of my conflicting emotions, and I was ready to be mauled. I handed him his beer. He took it, drained half of it in one gulp, bleached loudly, then finished the can in a second gulp. Without a word, he tossed the can to join the rest of the trash on the bedroom floor, then turned toward me, rolling onto his side and placing his chilled mouth around my right nipple. I gasped involuntarily in surprise as I felt chills spread firm the spot. He began sucking, quite hard, and the feeling was intense. I was more than ready for this kind of attention, and my body was responding. I felt my heartbeat speed up, my breath coming sharper and faster, and I had to hold myself back from telling him how good it felt. His right hand stroked my belly, bringing more chills. I didn't realize how totally out of control things had gotten until he dipped his fingers under the waistband of my shorts, under my panties. All he did was just cup my vagina with the palm of his hand. He just held it there, not moving it at all, while his greedy mouth sucked, tugged, birds and pulled at my nipple. And I could see that he could easily drive me crazy if he wanted. He pulled his mouth away - I felt an instant emptiness - but only long enough to chuckle, "I need to shave your pussy." How do I explain that just hearing him use the word "pussy" made my stomach jump just a little bit. It was vulgar and exciting, and the fantasy of being held down while he shaved me down there had a visceral effect on me. The thing is, of course, that none of this had been part of the arrangement at all. This should have been cold and mechanical, a task that needed to be done. I should be lying flat on my back simply waiting for it all to be over with quickly. This shouldn't be happening. My body - and the darker, less controllable side of my mind should not be cooperating like they were. Cameron made his next perfectly diabolical move, a subtle one that I barely noticed at first. With his hand just hugging my vag-...my pussy, he moved his middle finger so that it lay along the furrow where my labia came together and applied just the smallest amount of pressure. Then he would release that pressure. He began doing it again and again, but I didn't know why. It wasn't enough stimulation to really do anything. His hand was pressed tightly against me, held against my body be the tight wristbands of my clothes. And just as I began to feel a sense of frustration...He curled his finger, and it opened up my labia so that my wetness allowed his finger to slip inside me. "Oh, my God..." I moaned out loud - it was completely involuntarily; I certainly didn't want him to hear it. He bit my nipple. Another loud gasp, and I felt his finger, moving very slowly inside of me. I was so wet, it was effortlessly smooth, and I felt the first callings of an orgasm beginning to build. I felt a slight sense of panic. Did I really want to relinquish such complete control...to him? He removed his mouth from my nipple and brought his lips up close to my ear. I was so focused on the finger inside me that I didn't even notice until I heard him whisper: "Are you a virgin?" Suddenly having to think and formulate an answer rattled me. "Yes," I whispered back. "I mean yes, but no. I mean, no, I've never had sex, but no, I don't have a hymen. Converts don't." "You're so tight," he said, adding emphasis by moving his finger more insistently. Then he brought the tip of his finger up to my clit and began making slow, gentle circles around it. At that point, I was sure: this would bring me over the edge. That was also the point where I abandoned the idea of trying to hide what I was feeling, and began to squirm and moan. I wondered whether his comment on my tightness was a compliment. I was in a mindset at that point where I really wanted him to enjoy sex with me, and it was a one hundred and eighty degree turnaround from wherein was just a few hours ago. Once more, he pulled a surprise move on me. With a slow turn of his wrist, he moved his fingers from between my legs, then brought them up to my mouth, where he spread my wetness over my lips before planting his on mine for an aggressive kiss. His tongue forced it's way inside to wrestle with mine. The deal was "sealed with a kiss." A kiss that forced me to taste my own excitement. The bastard. It was ironic that one of the thoughts I'd had when I first tried to reconcile myself to the idea of "mating" with Cameron was that at least I would never have to kiss him. This thought occurred to me as I lay beneath him, sucking almost desperately at his tongue, shuddering as he pinched my nipples and squeezed my breasts. I had been completely overwhelmed by this awful creature, and all caution was thrown to the wind. I should have known better. I did know better. And it didn't matter at all. In my former life, I had made many mistakes over sex, but there was a world of difference between being just a horny guy and what was happening to me now. I had to wonder whether he realized the power he had over me. He pulled his lips from mine with a loud, wet smack then pushed himself up, maneuvering around so that he was kneeling between my legs, smiling down at me with authority. Yes, he knew he had me. Leaning forward, he hooked his fingers into the waistbands of both my shorts and my panties. I was eager to assist, raising my hips as he pulled them roughly down my thighs. Then they were off completely and flying through the air. He put a hand on either of my knees and pressed down, spreading me wide open. There was nothing to hide now. He took in the sight of me for what seemed like a small eternity while I sizzled under his gaze, waiting for something, anything to happen. When he thought I had waited long enough, he moved his right hand between my legs and began those slow, lazy circles around my clit with his thumb, and the look on his face told me: he wanted to make me come while he watched. It was, all at once, thrilling and mortifying. Could he be any more domineering and in control of me? Could I have possibly stopped him? I squirmed under his touch. I moaned. I cried. And he played me, like a virtuoso at his instrument, leading me through peaks and troughs bringing me to the edge, then slowing down. As a lover, he was amazing. He was out to rule. "Tell me what you want," he said, sharply. "I want...I want..." His thumb sped up. I was close to the edge, and he knew it. "Tell me!" "I want to come!" "Say it again!" "I want to come!" "You want to come, SIR! Say it!" Oh, God, what was he doing to me? "I want to come...sir..." "Louder, bitch!" Yes, oh, yes I said it, louder. And then, fat, out of shape slob that he was, Cameron's next move had the grace of a dancer. He scooped my legs onto his shoulders, pushed forward, and - miraculously, somehow, guided his cock to the right spot, so that when he moved his hips forward, he drove himself inside me. For a moment, I genuinely feared I would be split open, and if I wasn't as wet as I was, I might have been. Cameron isn't freakishly endowed by any means, but for a virgin convert, he may as well have been hung like a racehorse. No pain, only pressure, but I screamed from shock alone. He pushed hard, with all his weight behind him, and it forced the air from my lungs, which had me gasping for oxygen my brain desperately needed. He had gone all the way in that first thrust, and when he pulled back and pressed inside a second time, I couldn't fill my lungs and had to wait until he pulled back again. The bastard was even in control of my breathing! I began feeling lightheaded as he began fucking me in earnest. It was like riding a runaway freight train. I couldn't stop it now even if I wanted to. Cameron pounded into me, with the top of my head banging into the headboard at each thrust. I began to find a rhythm for my breath, but it was based on the rhythm of Cameron's hips and not necessarily my body's needs, and so my head began to swim and the physical pleasure was knocking me for a loop. Gradually, Cameron's thrusting had caused me to slowly slide up the bed, to the point where my head was pressed against the headboard and my neck was bending as he fucked me. He knew, somehow, that this would eventually get to be too much, so he sat back, grabbed my shoulders, and with a strength that was frightening, pulled me up and literally hurled my body forward so that I landed face down, my head hanging off the side of the bed, still gasping for breath. When I felt him grab onto my hips and pull my ass up into the air, I can remember thinking, "Oh, no!" Not because I didn't want it to go on, but simply because of the vulnerability of the position he had me in. I also remember thinking that it surely must have been tempting to him to give my ass a good whack, and I thought this almost simultaneous with the moment that his beefy palm connected with my tender rump. It wasn't a playful pat, either. The sting was so intense that I almost jumped forward off the bed. "How do you like that, huh?" he asked through gritted teeth, his voice hissing. "It...hurts..." I managed to gasp out. Whack! The next slap echoed through the bedroom, and my throat wheeled as I sucked in my breath. "It's supposed to hurt!" he hissed. Then, in quick succession, "You've been a..." Smack! "...very..." Smack! "...bad..." Smack! "...girl!" My ass was on fire now, but he made sure to keep my sexual intensity peaking by rubbing his hand over my ass and between my legs in between swats. Not just that, but the third of these swats - the one that emphasized the fact that I was now just a girl - his girl? - landed squarely on my pussy and the result completely blurred the line between pleasure and pain. It was significant - to me, and surely to him - that I did not move from my position at all, except, maybe, to push my ass out even further as a gesture of subjugation. Was this his way of avenging how much I might have wronged him over the years? What was the psychology going on here? And why was I not only submitting to it, but also, in a crazy way, thrilling to this punishment. Another smack, this one on my upper thigh, and I involuntarily lunged forward. It was more of a reflex rather than an effort to avoid his hand, but he seized on the opportunity to grab a handful of my hair and pull me back into place, growling, "Get your ass back here!" I think it was this point that I started crying, but - and this is kind of hard to explain - it was more of a catharsis that a reaction to the physical pain. I really believe that I was somehow exorcising all of the frustration, disappointment, and humiliation of the entire conversion process, the broken promises, the unfulfilled expectations, that all led me to this smelly, disgusting bedroom, getting fucked by my worst enemy in the world. The tears were a cushion, my protection from hitting rock bottom. Another smack, just as hard, but I tried to take it stoically, to show my obedience. It seemed to make him angry; he wanted me squirming and screaming, and he delivered three hard spanks to the exact same spot where the bottom of my ass meets my thighs, and he got the reaction he wanted. "Please!" I begged him. "That's enough!" "Oh, I don't think so..." He said - I could hear the smile on his face as he said it - and he delivered one more solid blow to the same spot. I cried out loud just as much to show him I got the point as from the pain. My eyes were closed, squeezing out tears that ran down my cheeks as I waited for the next blow. But it didn't come. Instead, I felt the mattress shift as Cameron moved around on the bed. What was he doing? Was he going to fuck me some more? Was he going to spank me some more, maybe beat me with his belt? My mind flashed the thought of him trying to fuck my ass; I say trying because I was sure he'd tear me wide open if he tried, and wouldn't it be perfect, him fucking me in a way where I couldn't possibly get pregnant? I came to realize it was none of these things when he walked around the bed and I felt the warmth of what could be nothing else but his cock resting against my face. So that's it, huh? In my mind's eye, I saw Missy, smirking, saying "So you think!" and I considered refusing, but that was pure fantasy: I had no choice in anything at this point, and as thrilling as my spanking might have been, it was also a reminder that Cameron was quite capable of hurting me. I decided that it was wise not to give him a reason. I opened my mouth...wide. Once more, I thought of Missy, performing her "wifely duty" on Tom. Surely, this wasn't a particularly pleasant task. Why should I expect to avoid it? "Watch those teeth," Cameron warned me as he slid deep into my mouth. I struggled to accommodate him, but I think he was being careful, too. I guess you wouldn't call it an epiphany, but I quickly came to realize how awkward it was to have one's head held while giving a blowjob, although, truth be told, I wasn't blowing Cameron so much as he was fucking my face. He controlled the speed and the depth, and when, occasionally, he went too far and triggered my gag reflex, he would pull back. Of course, in this situation, there was little to actually think about except, "Is he going to come in my mouth?" That would have been unacceptable on three levels: first, I wasn't psychologically up to swallowing a load of semen just yet; second, it would defeat the purpose of us having sex in the first place (getting me pregnant); and third, I wanted to come too. Oh, and then there was the fact that I never planned on sucking his cock in the first place. Yet there I was, my nose nestled in his thick, musky pubic hair, listening to the noises he was making, and his breathing, and trying not to choke. Thankfully, I guess, he pulled his cock out of my mouth - it made a soft "plop" when it came out - and got back on the bed behind me. Once more, he lifted my hips, and I could feel his spit-soaked dick resting between the cheeks of my ass. He reached down, maneuvered the bulbous head between the lips of my pussy, and pushed. It went in easier this time, but it was still a very tight fit, and I can remember the way he made me grunt as he stretched me open. It sounded so animalistic, so undignified. He began moving in and out, slowly at first, but picking up speed. Once more, I was a victim to my body's sensations. It was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure, and I knew instinctively that he was ready to finish. He launched into some frenzied humping, his enormous belly slapping early against my ass, still tender from the spanking. On all fours as I was, my breasts hung down and my nipples grazed the bedsheets as he pounded me. Then he gave a mighty grunt, and I knew this was it. I also knew, unfortunately, that I was not going to get to come. Not this time. I felt the warmth of his orgasm spreading between my legs as he moaned, "Fuuuuuuck!" Then it was over. Boy, was it over. Impossible to really describe the feeling of sudden emptiness when Cameron pulled his deflating cock out of me. He fell onto his back on the bed, gasping for breath, leaving me as a perfect example of awkwardness and frustration: sexually frustrated, still on all fours with my ass in the air. By the time I managed to lay on my back, I could already hear Cameron snoring. I thought about going to the bathroom and finishing myself off, but then I thought that if Cameron heard me, he might feel insulted. And besides, I had a serious load of sperm inside me now, and I thought it wise to lay still with my legs closed to give the little guys a fighting chance... Morning. The proverbial morning after, no less. I woke up to that first- round sense of confusion, only to have reality present itself...hard. I was lying on my side. It was warm in the bedroom, and the covers had gotten knocked off of the bed during the middle of the night, so I was naked and exposed. Behind me, Cameron's body pressed into mine. His arm was wrapped around my side and his hand cupped my breast. At first, I thought he might be still sleeping, until I felt his finger tracing a lazy circle around my nipple. It felt nice, but as I became more and more awake and aware, my anxieties began to kick in. After the bizarre freak show of last night, what would the day have in store for me. I stirred slightly, just to let him know I was waking. I was awarded by a sudden, sharp pinch to my nipple, hard enough to make me gasp. Now there was no question: he knew I was awake. He shifted his position slightly...just enough for me to feel his erection, nudging between the backs of my thighs. So much for subtlety. When he pushed his hips forward a little more, I adjusted myself to accommodate him, but as I did, I came to realize that the fucking I'd gotten the night before had left my pussy sore and raw this morning. Even his preliminary prodding was painful. Occasionally, we make decisions that, in the harsh light of day, might seem repellent and completely out of character, but which, under specific circumstances not only make perfect sense, but also really don't need to be thought through. I bring this up to demonstrate the sort of mental anesthesia I administered to myself that allowed me to turn toward him, roll him slightly onto his back and begin kissing down his chest in such a way that he knew I would be giving him a blowjob. I was nowhere near as sexually charged as I had been the night before, and there wasn't even a promise of my own satisfaction, since he would surely be satisfied once I was finished. I hoped. So as to keep him from stopping me prematurely and launching another all-out assault on my ailing vagina, I practiced swallowing by swallowing some pride and half-whispering, "I want you to come in my mouth." Mission accomplished in one regard, as I heard his low grunt of assent. At the same time, I was oh, so aware that I was creating an impression that was going to get me into trouble. Now he would think that I really was his bitch, in a way. Why else would I make such an offer? He would be convinced that I was totally into this ? into him ? now. But on to the task at hand. I maneuvered myself so that I was lying on my stomach between his legs. My face was only inches from his clock, which was fully at attention. From my vantage point, it looked enormous, and from this distance, the smell of sex from the night before swirled around my head. But, of course, a horny slut like me would never let that stop her. He was looking down at me with a grin of triumph, his face like a fat full moon, rising over the pale horizon of his enormous belly. I wished he would just close his eyes and enjoy what I was about to do to him. But no. He would get far more enjoyment watching me do it. Again, I thought back to Missy and her sense of "wifely duty." I tried to imagine how dutiful she would have to be to blow Tom. And so, very dutifully, I raised my head so that my mouth rose up above his sticky, glistening member and lowered my lips down over it. I went down as far as I could comfortably go. I got to test my gag reflex, then quickly pulled back. My eyes started to water just a little, but I was okay. My experience - in my past life - on the other side of the blowjob guided my approach: none of the frilly licking and kissing. I went straight for what mattered. It occurred to me that the way in which I?d offered to blow Cameron had been a commitment: I was obliged to get him off, to let him finish in my mouth, and, by implication, to swallow everything he had to give me. And actually, swallowing never struck me as a real choice with Cameron. I knew he would expect it. It also occurred to me that I was obligated to myself to give the best head I could possibly give: the better I was, the sooner it would be all over. Quite the motivator for becoming a blowjob queen, huh? I was further aware that I was establishing a standard here. Now he knew he could demand head whenever he wanted it, and my only argument would be that it would get us nowhere when it came to impregnating me. My guess, however, was that this would be a weak argument against what Cameron wanted, which, in turn, would surely mean a lot of time for me spent on my knees. Missy, I suspected, would be amused. It did not take very long at all for me to learn that the frilly, fancy parts of a blowjob that I had tried to avoid were actually practical. I discovered this once my jaw began to hurt and I needed a break from simply sucking with my jaw extended. I switched back and forth between toying around and intense sucking, and I brought my hand into play to help things along. It seemed like it was taking forever, but I'm sure that was more from me losing my sense of time more than anything else. He was giving non-verbal hints that he was getting close: his breathing was more rapid, he would make random grunts. I did my best to read his body language, but I was getting exhausted quickly. Then, a quick memory from long, long ago. Back then, I was getting, not receiving, of course, and the woman I was with took me by surprise and wiggled her finger into my ass. To say it did the trick for me is an understatement. Hmm... I think my sense of what was repulsive and what was not had simply gone away by this point. I had my stepson's cock in my mouth, and I was hoping for all the world that his climax would happen as soon as possible. How much lower could I really sink? That was the argument, anyway, as I took my hand from the shaft of his dick and reached up under his balls. I mapped out where I was headed, then brought my index finger to my lips and got it as wet as I could before reaching back down to seek out Cameron's tight little asshole. I wasn?t subtle about it. I jammed it all the way inside him. "Fuck!" he shouted out loud. It was the beginning of a chain reaction. I felt his thighs start to tremble and his back arched, driving his cock deeper into my mouth, and would surely have gagged me had I not sort of anticipated his reaction and pulled my head back in the nick of time. I felt my mouth starting to fill up with warm semen. With the head of his cock buried that deeply, I couldn't contract my throat muscles to swallow, so I had to pull back my head a little and allow him to shoot all he had into my mouth. This was beyond gross, of course, and his come was thick, with a strong, chlorine-like taste. He came a lot, too.I held it there until he was finished spasming and gasping. After what felt like forever, I pulled my mouth off of him, shifted my position a little, and forced myself to swallow. I made a soft gurgling noise, and I almost didn't get it down. I willed myself not to gag, and several million potential babies went sliding down my gullet and into my stomach. Then I belched and relived the experience all over again. Not to be outdone, when I pulled my finger from Cameron's ass, he let go with a raucous fart, made even all the more horrific with my face being only inches away. I tried to get up pretty quickly. He thought it was funny, and held my head down until he was sure I got a good whiff of his offering. "That was good," he sighed. "My first time," I said because there was pretty much nothing else to say. I sat down on the side of the bed and scoped out the room, trying to locate my clothes. My t-shirt was within reach, so I grabbed it and began pulling it over my head. "You're a natural," he said. I almost - out of habit - thanked him. But I stopped myself. Was that really a compliment? Natural-born cocksucker...that's me. "Why don't you go fix us some breakfast?" It was more of a command than a request. Obediently, I stood and headed for the kitchen, passing close enough to Cameron for him to slap me hard on the ass to hurry me on my way. My cooking skills crossed over from my pre-conversion days, so in no time, I'd whipped together a tasty breakfast. And it was only after we sat down to eat that we realized we were now in a situation where we had to actually talk to each other. "Whatever happened with those other dates Missy set up for you?" The question took me by surprise, not so much in that it came from out of nowhere as much as the relatively civil tone in which it was asked...as though he really cared about the answer. And when I hesitated before answering, he added, "I mean, you said you were a virgin last night, and this morning, you said you'd never given a blowjob before. So it got me wondering." Fair enough. I took a sip of coffee and began. "Blame Missy. That's really the best answer I can give you." "How?s that?" He really was interested?which meant that I had to come up with a believable answer. "Well, right from the beginning, she was the one who took upon herself to get me pregnant. Hell, if she had the right equipment, she would have done it herself." This drew a smirk from Cameron. ?I?m serious,? I said with a wry smile. ?We even talked about it!? He seemed fascinated. ?How did you talk about it?? ?There were a few times when she said that if female-to-male conversions had been perfected, that she would volunteer to?you know?? ?Fuck you?? Cameron laughed. ?Make love to me,? I corrected him. ?Yeah, whatever.? ?And to be a little more honest with you than I probably should be,? I continued, not quite believing that I was telling him this, ?that was one of the ways I was able to make that psychological conversion.? ?Explain.? ?It means that there was a point for me where I woke up in a hospital room with tits and a vagina and not even the slightest indication that I felt like a woman. It?s not a pleasant experience. It?s scary as hell, to be honest with you. But they tell me that almost all converts go through it. Anyway, it was the idea of?? I hesitated. ??being taken by a man, at that point, was beyond repulsive. It was the idea of Missy being a man and making love to me that helped me wrap my brain around things.? ?I always wondered about you two,? he said. ?Back when you were a guy, did you two ever get it on?? ?No!? I said, shocked at the question. ?We were just good friends. It was only after the conversion that I started seeing her in any kind of sexual way. I think it was because by then, it was?I don?t know, safe to think about her that way. Of course, she looked at it as a big joke. Everything that ever happened between us happened inside my head.? ?That sounds kind of freaky,? he said. ?It was freaky. But all this-? I said, gesturing down towards my body, ?is freaky, too.? ?I won?t argue with that,? he said. "So,? I said, moving the subjects along, ?anyway, right from the beginning, it was Missy who played matchmaker. And the first person she thought of was Sam White.? "That's the newspaper guy, right?" "Mm-hm." "Fat slob..." It might have been the pot calling the kettle black, but I nodded. "He was one of the first people to come and visit me in the hospital. He wanted to do a feature on my conversion. Actually, ten minutes into his first visit, he was talking about a national news story, and then minutes after that, he was talking about a Pultizer Price. Guy's got some ego. "For me, it was like an interrogation. I was drugged up with pain killers, dazed and groggy, and he kept hitting me with questions. Then he wanted me to show him my changes..." "No shit..." Cameron laughed. "Well that?s not too surprising. I kind of expected that. And all the time, Missy is encouraging all of this, thinking it's going to be this big deal, for both of us." "What did you show him?" It was an intrusive question, but, looking back, I think I was so relieved that Cameron and I were actually talking that I was compelled to go on. "Well, I was in a hospital gown, remember, so it was pretty easy to show him what he wanted to see. You know, my breasts. My vagina." An uneasy chill shot through me at the frankness of this admission. "But, like I said, I was drugged up, and the truth was, I'd had doctors poking and prodding around me for days, so it didn't really faze me. I was beyond modesty.? ?What was his reaction?? "I?m getting to that,? I said. ?Now," I went on, "if that was Sam's only visit, and if Missy wasn't involved, that might have been it. The whole thing might have dropped. He might have done the story; he might not have. But a few weeks later - by then, I was out of the hospital, healed, and about a week away from being cleared for having intercourse - Missy invites me out to lunch with her and Sam. By that time, I'd gotten into the routine of womanhood, if you want to call it that. So I was dressing appropriately, wearing make-up, those kinds of things that helped me fit in as a ?normal? female. And it goes without saying that I looked a hell of a lot better than I must have in the hospital. Let?s just say that when Sam saw me that day, he was a little bit surprised. Pleasantly surprised. ?Once again, it was the barrage of questions, talk about a feature story, and so on, but this time, the questions were...different somehow. More personal. And we finally got to questions about my reproduction contract. Sam asked me whether I'd given any thought to who the father of my first baby was going to be. "I told him the truth, that I?d given it some thought, but that was about it. Nothing conclusive. No real ideas. And that was about the time that Missy got this twinkle in her eye and suggested Sam father my baby." ?Missy suggested it?? Cameron chuckled. "What was Sam's reaction?" "At the time, he sort of couched it in an intellectual, scientific way, like it would be his ?great experiment.? Later on, though, he would tell me that the truth was that I?d made him horny, and he started to see it as an opportunity to get laid. But he played it up big as we were sitting there, about how fucking me would make for the ultimate conversion story. Missy was loving her role as matchmaker, and me...well, I guess I though letting Sam do it would be easier than, say, meeting someone in a bar or some shit like that. So, we made an agreement." "Wait a minute," Cameron interjected, genuinely confuse, which meant that he was genuinely paying attention. "What was Mom's take on all of this? Wasn't she jealous?" I shook my head. "No. By this time, she was already moving forward. She already started dating. I think she was eager for me to find lovers so that she could do what she wanted." This seemed to amaze him. "Anyway, so one thing leads to another, and a few days later, Sam and I arrange to go out to dinner, with the intentions that afterwards, we would go back to his place and...And get busy. This was where things started falling apart pretty quickly." "What went wrong?" I shrugged. "Maybe we needed Missy there as an enabler or something, I don't know. Part of it was the fact that I was sitting there in the restaurant, all dolled up - Missy had even talked me into wearing sexy underwear and all that - and I'm with this guy that I've known for years, that I've respected all those years, only now I'm seeing the sexual side of him, that weird sort of animal hunger, with me as the main course, and I just couldn?t get into it at all. I couldn't wrap my head around the idea that my friend didn't see me as a friend, but rather as a piece of ass. And I was helping facilitate this, sitting there in a short skirt, with half of my boobs showing. It was wrong. "And then," I went on, "when we got back to his place, things got even worse." "How?" "Part of the problem, I'm sure, is that by this time, Sam didn't give a damn about any feature story; he just wanted to get laid, and it seemed like the guy I'd been friends with for so long was gone, and all that was left was this repulsive, horny monster. And so I ended up being turned off by everything he did. For a while, I guess, I thought 'just go with it and it'll all be over soon...' Remember, I was very aware that the reason for this was to get me pregnant. But I just couldn't bring myself to that point. I ended just telling him that I couldn?t do it. He got mad, and I saw an even uglier side of him. He started calling me a prick teaser and other names. For a moment there, I was even afraid that he was going to try to rape me. But I knew, at least, that I could outrun him?" Cameron smiled at this. ?And that was the last time I spoke with him. Sad, but true.? "Missy couldn't patch things up?" Cameron asked with a smirk. I shook my head. "She tried, I guess, but he has made it clear that he wants nothing to do with me. I?m sure I hurt his male ego beyond repair." Cameron finished his coffee and poured himself another cup. "What about the other time?" I looked down into my empty plate. "That one...was even more pathetic. You know Jimmy Williams?" Just the name made Cameron chuckle. "You're kidding!" "Wish I was," I said. Jimmy was a pretty sorry case. A nice enough guy, I suppose, but an undeniable loser, awkward, unattractive, and generally unaware that he was any of these things. "And this was Missy's idea again?" I nodded. "I understand why she'd choose someone like Jimmy. He'd be eager, easy to manipulate. That kind of thing. I?d be calling all the shots. But part of the problem - same as with Sam - is that she didn't set things up like, 'Hey, why don't you two go out, see if there's some chemistry there and see what happens?' Instead, she's like, 'Josie needs to get pregnant right away, so you two need to get together. That put a lot of pressure on him. On both of us. He said he wasn't a virgin, but I'm pretty sure he was." "So what happened?" "We had dinner, went back to his apartment, and he came trying to get his dick out of his pants." I got a genuine laugh out of Cameron on that one. "It was a real shot, too. It got all over him, all over my dress. He was embarrassed. He asked me to leave. Another strikeout. And that was it. I was done. And from that point, I just shut Missy out...until you and me." "So," he said. "Why do you think things worked with you and me?" There was a kind of taunting in his voice that made me uncomfortable but, at the same time, turned me on a little. Still, I answered honestly. ?I don?t know that things have worked out for you and me. Or if they ever will.? ?But you enjoyed yourself last night?? I sighed. ?Yes, I did.? It was more like a confession. ?I didn?t get to climax,? I continued, as though this would make him guilty, ?but it was?fulfilling.? ?I never knew you had a submissive streak in you.? His smile was one of smug superiority. ?Neither did I,? I said. In my voice, there was, I think a tone of uncertainty. There followed a long, uncomfortable silence, until, finally, Cameron said, "Stand up." My God, I thought, what was he going to do now? I slowly got to my feet. He made me wait - made me simmer, to be more accurate - before he said, "Take off your t-shirt." Before I left the bedroom, I had thrown on my t-shirt and slid on my panties. I was grateful for putting my panties on as I pulled my shirt over my head and set it on the table. I felt incredibly self-conscious, just standing there, just out of his reach." "I like big tits," he said. "I know," I said, trying to smile. "I've seen some of your girlfriends." This was a point that could not be argued. His smile turned slightly cruel when he said, "Bet you never thought you'd end up being o