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Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 The computer screen shone light upon my plain-white panties and bra, making them glow obscenely atop my peachy white skin. Since the divorce, I'd become brave in private and crossdressed on occasion. That sometimes ended up all day. The webcam was on, but I wasn't in any kind of chat situation, so it was only for personal titillation. I stroked off while surfing femdom porn, not much caring to cum quickly. This was between working on my accounting ledgers for contracted clients. Being a CPA in a world with thousands of small businesses meant lots of time at home and a willy-nilly schedule that left me with too much free time, to be honest. My days were becoming seven to ten on the screen with only the occasional face to face with clients. Stories about Teamviewer domination struck my fancy on occasion, but the thought of actually doing it seemed silly. It was becoming a fad, though, of late. What some fools got themselves into.... I was way more practical than most of those idiots, and I knew to avoid anything weird that actually interacted with another human being. Teamviewer was now a real hot topic on a cuckold site I'd run into, though, making it the new thing to fantasize about. Men had other men dialing into their personal computers to see pics of their wives. That seemed kind of rude to the wives, and I'd not think of doing it, even with my ex. That kind of thing was meant for under the hat, so to speak. Including other people in my weirdest kinks, in any way, just struck me as wrong. Still, the simple domination idea implied by it, for me, remained interesting, like most things related to fantasy that were out of touch and likely best left alone in the dark. My ex-wife, Jane, had basically run off with another man, motivated some by my kinky behavior, though I'd always tried to keep it under wraps. Just mentioning fetishes had led from one cold shoulder to the other. Conversely, after my heartbreaking loss of spouse, I longed to indulge my fantasies a little. Then, having seen that they were as shallow as I imagined, I could move on and maybe have a better relationship next time. Maybe, even, I'd win Jane back, once she realized how bad that other guy was for her. For now I was alone and horny. What would playing around a little hurt? Nobody was here but me and my computer, now. I'd already read my favorite story off the net, Joe's Retirement. "Be careful what you wish for," I said to myself with a smile, horny beyond belief. It'd be therapeutic doing something on the web with another person, though. Like touching a hot stove. Try it once and no more of that. I would do myself a favor if I indulged a little. Then I'd realize the shallowness of indulging my fantasies a step too far and get back to normal heterosexual bliss. Fingers crossed. I Googled Teamviewer Mistress, just to see what I found. Linda was an Afro-American woman pushing fifty. Her blog pic had her in a big bra, but sixty pounds overweight. Homegrown and not professional, seemed the message communicated by the site; I always liked the idea of non-pros. I committed a sin and popped off an e-mail to her, just to see what kind of craziness came back at me. We could chat or maybe I'd post something on her blog. She'd maybe appreciate a mature chat that wasn't hitting her up for sex. Downloading the Teamviewer software was easy, and I had it up and running in a couple minutes. I'd try some fake computer domination between my laptop and desktop, faking that I was my own dominatrix. I put it on the laptop and my Kindle pad as well. It was kind of cool, moving porn files around from one computer to the next, pretending like I was a dominant woman messing with myself. Tired of that, I took a risk. There the little Teamviewer icon sat as I cruised Linda's blog on my desktop. She had a few fun pics of her in a short dress, sitting in a chair with a little whip, showing lots of legs. I wanted to be on my knees in front of that, kissing my way up. While shopping for sissy-maid stories, I noticed an e-mail came in, and I went right to it. I should have just listed Linda as spam, but curiosity kept nagging at me. I had it under control. Just tease it a bit and quit. Hey, I was single. We were willing adults. Why not? ### Hi, Joe. Got your e-mail, boytoy. You're on for some fun, huh. I'm not too busy and itching to add another lackey to my list. Are you available to be used at the moment? If so, send me an e-mail back, or send a chat on messenger. Tell me a few short things about what turns you on. I'm waiting for you, slave wannabe. I'd love to take ownership over your pathetic ass and pry into your personal life until you squeal. Hee hee. Just playing. Mistress Linda ### That sounded like a willing player. Her playfulness totally eased my mind, to tell you the truth. Alright, I was game for a few fun e- mails, after only reading about it so long. I sent a text back: I'm kind of new to this. What sort of thing do you do? I like to play maid, once in a while, but I don't have any experience and am not a consistent cross dresser. God forbid I should actually even leave my bedroom with panties on. I suppose I'm a sissy when it comes to playing sissy. It can get me hot, as long as it's private. Super private. LOL. That maybe annoys you. Thank you, Mistress, for your interest. Slave Joe. ### Two minutes later, I got this reply: If you want to Teamviewer, I have the software and can play for a few minutes. You did mention it, my sometimes secretive little sissy. I take over and browse some, to get your blood up. Men find it thrilling, knowing I have so much control. See their little secrets. Look at their porn.... You'll like that, I bet. I make them do what I want. Or do it for them, if you want to watch. Do you want to be controlled, Joe? Do you want to give control of your computer to a sadistic bitch, like was in my ad, slave? I think you do. I think you can't help it. I think you're going to send me what I want, now! I want your Teamviewer number and password. Don't play around or I'm ending these e-mails and finding someone else. There are plenty of fish in the sea, from where I'm sitting. Everybody's doing it, to be honest. You know you want to do it. Don't make me disappear without a little fun and adventure for your life. Mistress Linda. ### Wow, that had me hot. She really wanted to tease me. She wanted to dominate me through my computer. Oh well, it wasn't my good laptop, so what could she really do? I brought up the Teamviewer program. Taking some breaths, I sent an e-mail back, giving her my numbers: 356 219 844 Password: 30fgea When I hit send, I almost shit myself. Good God, what had I just done? Time went by. Five, ten, fifteen seconds. After half a minute, I thought maybe she was just fooling with me and maybe wouldn't do this odd thing that promised to really put me into subspace orbit. All of a sudden, remote access showed on Teamviewer. I moved my mouse, but someone else seemed to move it next. I decided to let her have it and just sit, stiff as a board, to see what was going to happen. She moved the pointer to Start, then programs, and brought up messenger chat. A window came up, which she moved to the far right of the screen. Next I knew, a camera view materialized. I'd never used any of that video stuff, but I realized I was looking at Linda in a white blouse and deep-red lipstick. She typed: Hi there, slave. I'm in. Joe: Gee, I'm kind of nervous. Linda: Mistress. Joe: Yes, Mistress Linda. Linda: Better, slave. Joe: So, how does this work, Mistress? Linda: Easy. I'm going to poke around, and you're going to be very embarrassed. I want you mortified. It's all in the head, for you little subbies, you know. Joe: Yes, Mistress Linda. That's true. Linda: Good. Now I'll set Teamviewer up and poke around. You sit tight with your hands on your prick, boy. You can to that, can't you, slave? I bet you have lots of experience. Joe: Yes, Mistress. Linda: Good boy. ### The mouse moved to Teamviewer's Extras and then the Option tag. A menu came down. She clicked on the icon for bringing up Teamviewer with windows. A menu showed, saying Configure Permanent Access. Eight dots typed in, and then eight more where the menu asked to repeat the password. The Cursor hit OK, and the menu window disappeared. A new window showed, Permanent Access Configured. You can access this computer using, 356219844 and the access number you've just defined. She clicked OK for that too, and the menu disappeared. Security tab was hit next. Beside Windows Login, Allowed for Administrators Only was picked. I noticed Full Access was showing in a second window, but to be honest, I really didn't catch the details of any of this until I played back the video of it later from my laptop, because it happened so fast. At the time I was looking at the highlights of where she was going and also at the cam shot of Linda hovering over her keyboard, looking up at her screen and licking her lips as if in concentration. The fact is, she did all of this super fast; Linda was no hunt and peck typist. The black lady definitely knew what she was doing. So far I'd just seen the fact that she'd made Teamviewer open with Windows, put in a permanent password to gain access and set it up for administrator use. I wasn't too sure what that meant, but I did know that I was the administrator, since it wasn't a work computer in the company I used to work for before I made my own client list. Also, I could uninstall the entire program in a minute. I was horny though. I had to slow down with my dick or I'd have cum right then and ruined everything. A woman was playing around in my computer. It was like she was right there in the room with me, like I could reach out and touch her. I even looked around all the corners of my space, feeling her presence. It didn't seem all that big a deal, though, other than the thrill. Since she wasn't really in the room, it was mostly just in my head. I'd not even had Teamviewer a few minutes earlier, so that free program was definitely expendable. Who cared if she messed that up? At the worst, I could restore windows from last night's save. She opened Advanced Options and clicked on Disallow Teamviewer Shutdown and Accept from Trusted Accounts. Obviously she wanted the program to come up and stay, which was no biggie. I didn't want to turn it off right now, that's for sure. I was digging the domination so far, trying to take it all in as fast as I could, plus recording it, like I said. I'd have a really cool video of my computer being violated by a mistress, wanking material for a month, there alone. That menu dropped, but she brought it back up and hit a new menu item. It mysteriously said (and it happened so fast I didn't see it until I watched the playback), Full Access Control When a Partner is Connected to the Window's Login Screen. That dropped really quickly as she scrolled the sidebar to take that menu down. After moving the bar, more stuff showed down below. Under Teamviewer Options, Changes Require Administrative Rights on this Computer was clicked, and a password inserted. Once again, the password only showed as dots and she had to repeat it, but she had good typing skills and in no time at all, hit OK. The menu screen dropped out entirely. I shook my head and wanted to replay that last recorded portion, but I'd mess up the screen-capture video if I showed the video on the screen while making the thing. You see my dilemma. This was too exciting to pollute by being fussy. ### She went over to the messenger screen and started typing: Linda: I'm just setting up Teamviewer so I can use it without you grabbing control, which is kind of the point. You've been a very good boy, not interfering, slave. We're going to have lots of fun, I think. Joe: Yes, Mistress. I'm kind of freaking out. Linda: Well that's the point. I'm here to scare the shit out of you, boi, and dig into your secrets. Knowing I know your secrets should be pretty humiliating for you. Everybody has them. Why don't you lick your fingers and play with your titties for me? Joe: What? Linda: If you want me to stay online and play, that's the charge. Joe: Yes, Mistress. (I did what she asked.) "Oh God." Linda: That's sweet. Oh shit, she could see me. She must have activated my camera, too. Linda: Now, I'll just be fixing myself as a user, so I can play. Joe: Yes, Mistress Linda. Linda: Put those fingers on your sissy tits, Joe. I didn't say my gurl could quit. There you go. That's a good little bitch, playing with your little tiny nipples. Are you sure you don't have a pussy, too? ### She moved right down to Start, then Run, then typed in CMD. A window opened up that reminded me of my old DOS days. It wasn't the kind of box I usually played with, being more of a computer user than programmer. She typed in: net user Linda * /add Password showed, but when she typed it in twice not even the dots showed. She went right to typing, net localgroup administrators Linda /add A message showed, saying she'd been successful. *** Okay, so she's added herself as an administrator. That ought to make it easier for her to poke around, I figured. It seemed a bit over the top, but it was also hot. I wanted to touch my dick, but then I realized she was watching me, and it kind of felt embarrassing to know I'd been beating off before I'd remembered she could see me. I licked my fingers again and kept tormenting my nipples. Finally, she typed: net user Administrators * The password came and went twice, followed by the message, The command completed successfully. She followed that with: net user Joe * Again, the password typing was invisible. She typed: net localgroup administrators It showed Administrator Joe Linda Before I could read any more, the window went blank. ### I almost had a heart attack, thinking she'd destroyed the computer, but it came right back within a half minute. She brought up the camera and messenger block, moved it to the right and wrote: Linda: I'll have to make you a user, Joe. Otherwise you'll not be able to log on and enjoy what I allow you to use on my new computer. Joe: ??? What do you mean??? Linda: Don't worry. I'm fixing you up so you can login. You can't use Joe anymore, given you'll need a slave name. Joe has a new password, anyway, that I'm not letting you know. I prefer to give you a name more fitting your new station. That way you can start fresh. Come on, you're going to love it, my slut. Joe: ??? What do you m-- I kept typing, and nothing happened. My God, she'd somehow blocked my keyboard from working. Linda: Did I tell you to stop playing with your sissy nipples, slave? I started to type again, but realized it was futile. Well, at least my computer screen video was still running. I'd have the best computer slave video ever, and I would have to remember to save it to something before I restored to an earlier date. I licked my fingers and started playing with my nipples. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what had I gotten myself into? Who was I fooling? The computer was probably going to have to be trashed, after this. In a way, thinking like that liberated me a little. I'd just let her fuck it up. Destroying it was now the only option. The preferred option. That video was going to be one for the ages. I didn't need the computer, and I was due a new one anyway, this one being three years old. She opened up that CMD line again, and typed: net localgroup administrators Joe /delete net user Lindassissybitch * /add She typed in the password, taking her time on that, apparently. Over in the messenger screen she wrote again. Linda: Your new password is. SissYmaid847229782cOcksucker20572047230RuInEDmoneyPiG89783541612938 Linda: You had better write that down before the screen moves past. Oh, the look on your face is precious. Come on, it's only a little work, typing it in. Slaves should be put to work, don't you think? Typing isn't even real work. I don't see you writing. I'd advise you get busy, shithead white boy. I grabbed a pen, and pulled some paper out of the printer. Linda: Do that while sucking your right thumb, slut. I did, and awkwardly spelled out with my left hand: SissYmaid847229782cOcksucker20572047230RuInEDmoneyPiG89783541612938. Linda: Don't forget it's case sensitive, bitch. I want to see your mouth saying, Yes Mistress Linda. I did. Linda: Hold what you've written up to the camera, I need to make sure you have it right. Shit! I did that while also sucking my thumb. Linda: That's better, bitch. Now I'm going to work a little more at keeping you in line, then we can get down to negotiating your new status in the stable of all the rest of my owned morons who've made the same fatal mistake you've just made. She went back to Start, Run, and typed, gpedit.msc. She hit Administrative, then Control Panel, and before I knew it, opened a screen, disabling access. From there it was Administrative Templates, System, Cnt-alt-del Options, remove task manager, and did that, whatever that did. It did blank the screen for a second, seemingly for some kind of windows reset. In the same Cnt-alt-del Options menu, she disabled some kind of Remove Computer Lock deal. Administrative Templates, Windows Component, Microsoft Management, Restricted Permitted, Computer Management, disable. *** I tried to type something in, but my keyboard was locked, again. Linda: Alright, so we're going to start you off light. I'm going to look around my new computer and see what kind of filth you're into. I think the best way to think of this is that it's justice for all the exploitation of women I am sure to find. She moved to start, then search and typed in *.jpg. When a few showed, she found one that had a sexy name on it and right clicked up properties. Just like that she found the folder under which I had all my porn pictures, even though I'd thought they'd been parked in a hidden folder. Two windows popped up and she grabbed my main porn folder and moved it over to the window on the right. The little flying folder started yanking it over. Next she found doc files and all sorts of personal correspondents and business information copied over to one of her folders. I think those were on her computer, but it all looked so local. What all was in that folder she'd copied, I wondered, daring not to think of it. Linda: I'm copying all your porn and some sensitive materials to help keep your attention. I want to see what kind of freak you are, boi. What kind of freak you are going to be is an even bigger question? A sissy, of course, among other things. All you submissives want to wear dresses, but what else? Go ahead and type something, slut. Joe: This is pretty intense, Mistress. Linda: You've always wanted a real Mistress, haven't you? Be happy I left you copies of your filth, though getting to them will require permission. Well, now you have a Mistress who owns you, cock, balls and boi-pussy folders. Now, I'm going to clean up your screen, some, but first I'll be logging in as you. Please be patient, I will need to put in your ridiculous, slutty password. The screen blanked, and then she came back on. I watched her type in, Lindassissybitch, but she put the password in fast, probably some kind of cut and paste. I tried typing, but found the keyboard stuck to off again. The camera wasn't up. All of a sudden, program icons started moving and were dropped into the recycling bin that was soon emptied. New icons took their place. One was notepad. Another was the camera icon. I had a program for ripping videos that came up. A picture editor remained. Internet Explorer remained. Three folders were set up on the desktop and labeled, Assigned Pics, Assigned writing and Allowed study material. It seemed so little to choose from. Notepad came up, and she typed: Try explorer, or to find your files. I tried finding My Computer, and failed. I had no Control Panel at all. Explorer didn't access my drives. I couldn't even bring up My Programs. I had no way of looking at any folders or drives or anything. The computer was mostly just a nightlight. She wrote: Good. Think of it as my computer. I'll decide what you can do while slaving at it. If I want you to have access to something, I'll put the folder on my new slave Joe desktop. The screen went blank and returned as Linda logging in. She had lots of icons on her homepage. I began to realize I'd not have much control or even access to my own stuff. She had full access to everything, and I mean everything. She immediately brought up the camera and notepad. She wrote: You get one hour of time. Then I want you to turn off the monitor, but leave the computer on. From this moment on, the computer will remain on at all times, but with the screen blank until the time I tell you to turn it on and start your time of slaving for me. I'll know from the glare because the camera will be on and the room lights off. Do you understand me, slave? Don't look so forlorn. I will be leaving assignments and other fun things for a slave to do, but you will have to leave the computer on or I'll end this special relationship and see what mischief I can come up with, regarding what I already know about you, which is substantial, I imagine, once I look over your files. All of a sudden, my browser came up. She went to Craigslist for my hometown, found a gay personal ad, and hit the e-mail on it. My e- mail came up. She typed in: Tell me more, big guy, then she hit send. I'm just teasing him, but who knows, he may reply, she typed. If you're not nice, I might invite him over. My favorites came up, and I noticed some kind of screen blink, like she'd taken a snapshot. The list of my favorites was three pages long. The screen blinked three times. I found the keyboard free. I typed: Yes, Mistress. But, please don't do that. I'm not gay. Don't mess with my e-mail, please. I beg you. She wrote: Good to see I have your attention. Now, you may not be gay, but you are my sissy slave, so we have to get you started on some humiliation. For your hour, you will go on the web and look for pictures of penises. I like penises and want a collection. I want your picture folder on the desktop full of at least 200 pictures of men with their cocks hanging out. The cock should be at least half as tall or wide as the page, so focus. Your hour starts now. Log in, and get busy. Then log off, and go to bed. I'll see you tomorrow at 6 AM. And I have a lot more for you to do then. Maybe I'll let you buy me something inexpensive on Amazon. I do want to start you off light. If you don't do what I ask, I'll only ask for something more humiliating, later. If you comply, I'll show some mercy and we can negotiate the next thing; maybe something you like. The screen went blank and the login screen appeared. Oh my God. I had an hour to find two hundred pictures of dicks. That's disgusting. I didn't have a gay bone in my body. Then I had to turn the monitor off. What if she logged in while I was asleep? What would she be doing? What had just happened to me? After logging in with the disgusting password, I got busy going to site after site, finding men with their dicks hanging out and dragging the pictures into the folder provided. I had to work frantically. In the end I didn't even have time to see if I'd found enough of them before time was up and I dutifully logged off. I awoke when the alarm went off at 5:45 AM, which was about an hour after I could finally doze off. Sitting bolt-upright, my mind raced. "Oh my God! What have I done?" Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Two What can I do to reverse the damage, was my first thought? On the other hand, I wasn't too sure what damage had occurred. Could I just cut her off? Maybe the thing to do was to play along. She had implied she wanted to play a little more, and she'd said she wanted to start me off light. Maybe I could explain my limits, and she'd hit me for something small. We'd be done? She was probably a little afraid, too. You never know what kind of crazies are on the other end, particularly if you're a woman. Yeah, that was almost certainly true. These internet dommes were fleeting individuals, just in it for the momentary thrill and payoff. While feeling my heart drop and my pulse shimmy, I also felt the onset of horniness. I was always horny in the morning, and as I sat there in my t-shirt and jeans, looking at a blank screen that said my computer was on standby, I decided to man up and just find out what next. I hit the buttons, seeing the screen come back up. Login showed, including the names, Administrator, Linda and Lindassissybitch. I picked the first, and tried no password, which was how it used to be, but it gave an error indication. There was no choice but to select Lindassissybitch and type the password: SissYmaid847229782cOcksucker20572047230RuInEDmoneyPiG89783541612938 My desktop came up, and it looked a lot different. At first I thought it was broken because only a handful of icons graced the field. I tried to go to my computer and couldn't even find the icon off the start button. That folder full of dicks though, it was still there, and all the photos easily pulled up. That was disgusting. What exactly had we done? My laptop's camera had captured most of it, so I spun about in my chair and checked out the video of our online session. The first quarter of that replay was pretty intense, causing me to miss her logging on. "What are you looking at, Joe?" Somehow, the speakers on my desktop had turned itself up to high. Her face showed in the right top corner of the screen I spun back. "Sorry, Mistress Linda. Just doing some work." "That's alright. Did you have fun, last night?" I typed, "Very much. But, I was wondering if you are open to talking about limits? I'm not that kinky and I'm not a very rich guy, and--" "You can speak into your microphone." "Oh, sorry. I'm used to typing," I said. "Better. Now, limits? I suppose we can work from that." I wanted more, but I decided to settle for compromise. "Thank you, Mistress Linda." If she saw me as normal, we could maybe be more like normal, I decided. She had on a bathrobe, I, of course, noticed. Her cleavage and skin below even that, split all the way down past the edge of the desk. I was glad I was in jeans and didn't look like an idiot, as I suppose I had last night, wearing only panties under the table's edge. "What sort of work do you do, Joe?" "I'm an auditor. That's like accounting, only with a better license." "Pays well?" "Not too well. Enough to pay my bills, I suppose." Best to lie about that, though I'd implied more the night before. Maybe she didn't know what CPAs like me made. "Uh-huh. I do flowers." "Really?" "Yes. My business is to package and deliver them for my area. You know those online flower businesses that deliver by a certain day." I nodded. "Well, they need someone to put the flowers together like they're shown in the ads. I put them together then deliver them." "Sounds like a nice local business model." "For me. I even get health insurance, and I can either do it myself, or hire someone for the deliveries." "Good for you. I see that as highly industrious." "Not as great of a job as yours, though. Skills like yours are in demand. I bet you do most your work at home, like me, huh." She smiled and adjusted the brightness of the camera showing her face. "I do. As long as I don't have to go pick up someone's ledgers or go drum up new clients. Mostly it's just me and my software, data flowing through the pipeline and knowing which columns to park the numbers." "Whew, you're really an intelligent person. I get so many dorks trying to hit me up. Did most people in your college flunk out or go for something easier?" "Lots, yeah." "Are you single? Not that I'm being forward or anything. I know I'm not the prettiest woman on the internet." She winked. "You're very attractive, and I wasn't lying when I thought your business idea was industrious." "Oh, you're so nice. Thank you for saying that. It's good to occasionally meet somebody nice." "You're welcome," I replied, smiling back. This was going well. What a strange way to meet a reasonable lady. She was way easier to get along with than my ex, though a little on the heavy side. I was thirty pounds overweight too, so... "Do you live near Pittsburgh?" "One state over. We're almost neighbors. It's only an hour drive." She laughed. "Don't get your hopes up." I smiled and took a breath. "Well, stand up, Joe. Let me take a look at you. No, me first." She stood, and I could see her prance back from her table. The nightgown was almost sheer, so I saw a good deal of round breasts and I realized I'd been wrong. Not two hundred, but maybe only a hundred and seventy. She was chesty. She sat. "You now." I stood. She moved her head around in the little camera screen, seemingly looking at my butt. Sure enough, she said, "Nice butt," and laughed. I turned, up near the desk, about to reach back and pull the chair back up. She said, "You can't focus these computer cameras. I hate that. Step back, Joe, I want to get a screen snap of all of you. Like you saw of me." I did. "Joe...." "Anderson." "I knew that. I've seen your computer, remember. Just wanted to see if you was the secretive type. I meet married men all the time. They never fess up." She chuckled. I grabbed for the chair, which had wheeled behind me some. "Hold it a second, Joe. Just say your whole name and where you're from, so I can get a video of you talking. I meet crazy guys, and I want insurance, in case we meet. And you end up a slasher. Oh, and what you do for a living might also help." "Alright, Joe Anderson, I'm safe, from Newark, Ohio. I do auditing, mostly at home. "Don't forget your address. I know it anyway." Hummm. That was true, I suppose. Makes dating easier, should she come over, I imagined. "Living at 12746 Roam Oak Highway." "The whole thing, come on, Joe, and add who you're saying this for." "Alright." I took a deep breath. "My name is Joe Anderson. I live at 12746 Roam Oak Highway, Newark, Ohio, and work as an auditor, mostly from home. I'm making this video for Miss Linda, whose last name I've not yet had the privilege of acquiring." "Very nice. Now, that's out in the sticks, my mapquest says, but nice homes, I noticed. You know, you move the little Google man out on the street, and you can see it, even though there are big farmer-sized lots and bunches of privacy trees." She smiled. "Thanks. I feel safer. Now, come up close to the desk. Turn a little so I can see your butt. I always wanted a butt shot of a good looking guy in jeans." A second camera window popped up under hers, showing me. It looked pretty crisp for a computer camera video shot. I laughed and stepped up close, turned around then moved back to the desk, facing the front. "Oh, perfect. I can see your little bulge. Hope saying that didn't embarrass you, sweetheart." She seemed to blush. Then her face changed to a more serious expression. "Now, piss your pants, Joe Anderson, rich-boy, auditor smartass from Hebron, Ohio, living in a nice house with a big lot and lots of privacy trees." ### I felt my face go flush. I think my heart stopped beating a few times around. "Pee those pants, now. Come on. Get going. I'm losing patience with you, you incontinent slut." "But, I--" "Who is the slave, and who is the mistress. If you want limits, you have to give me something. Otherwise, what's the point?" "Sorry, Mistress Linda." "There you go, a little baby amount of respect. I can't believe we've been talking fifteen whole fucking minutes, and you finally realize who the mistress is and who the piss boy is." "Sorry, Mistress. I really was just trying to--" "Well, if you want limits, you need to impress me first, or else...." Oh, shit, she was serious. I looked down at my beltline. Shit. "I'm not really into--" "Goddamnit. Is this all about you? What kind of slavery is that? Can't you even piss? What good are you? That's like minimum. We'll have to go to something more severe, if we can't do limited things in private. It was your idea. You said, can be talk about limits. So, I thought, do something simple and easy.... Well, if you can't do it, I can think of something really fun. For me." "No, no. I'll do it. I just have to work it up... Mistress Linda." "Those pants had better be completely soaked, beltline to shoes, in the next, ten, nine, eight... seven... six and a half, six... four... two... one and a half, one, one last half second before--" "Oh, shit." I started peeing. I had no choice. And because I'd woken and kept a hard-on, the top of my jeans soaked fast. I felt like cutting the flow off, but remembered what she'd said about doing it right, or there being consequences. I let go and just let it all out. Yeah, I'd been nervous, and yeah, I really had needed to pee, so it soaked and soaked, tinkling down the inside of my right leg more than the left, but quickly a good nine or ten inches across and all the way from my belly to wetting a sock. I soon felt it squishy in my tennis shoes. After all that, I just stood there, red-faced, and feeling my dick and balls getting cold from the warm urine starting to cool. "You're pissing your pants like a little boy. You're disgusting, Joe. Or is it Joey? What was the name I came up with for you, last night, Joey? I mean, the one I assigned you to remember because I own your computer and can ruin your life if you don't do everything I tell you to?" "Lindassissybitch, Mistress Linda." "Oh, I can't see your face. Sit. Sit in your pee, like a baby. Get that expensive office chair nice and smelly-wet. That's a good bedwetter. Now, say that again." "Lindassissybitch, Mistress Linda." Now, add in what you just did for me. "Lindassissybitch, pants pisser, Mistress Linda." "Good. You can remember something. For a dumb-assed college boy, I was wondering for a moment. Now, let's take a long look at your new password for getting into my new computer. You can use your cheat- sheet for this, Joe. What's the new password? Say it back to me, nice and slow." "Oh, this is terrible. I didn't mean to ask for all this. I really do like you, Miss Linda. Can we just do something a little less--" "I thought we respected one another, Joe. Now you're being stupid, topping from the bottom. You asked to do something limited. Is this really hard? You're in your own house, nobody's watching. I own your ass, but I'm getting nothing out of it. Of course, everything on your computer is in my external hard drive, as we speak. I could be doing just about anything. Maybe even puttin you in jail, for all I know. God knows what I'd find if I looked close enough. Every relative, every employer, every account.... If you're not going to honor the spirit of limits, then I'm going to have to--" "No, no, no, I'm sorry, Mistress Linda. You're right. I'm just not in the headspace, but for you I'll do it anyway. I'll get there. You have every right to be upset, Mistress. It must be frustrating, doing the hard work you do and running into people who want to top from the bottom." "Better, but I'm not hearing what I demanded. In fact, I think you should start over. Your name, where you live, what you do, maybe stand a moment, show me your wet... diaper. Comment about how much you enjoy pissing your panties, then your new name. Add something to surprise me, about here. Then, how much you like pissing yourself all the time. Then we can start by going over your password, part by part. Make it natural, like it's your idea. Which, incidentally, it was when you said, limits, or for that matter, when you logged on and e-mailed me for this, last night." "Yes, of course, Mistress Linda. I'm so stupid." "Yes, so let's practice. Start with the last part, the password. It has three fun phrases in it. I just want to hear you say how much you enjoy your new password." "Okay, Mistress. Umm, Sissy maid 847229--" "No, no, no. Not like that. Say, in my password is the phrase, sissy maid. I chose it because... then you adlib the rest. This is all about your submission, Joe. You're the one, after all, who contacted me last night and said you wanted to play bottom boy. I want some creativity back, so I have something to enjoy, too. Sadists are people too, don't you think? We have things we like." Oh, shit. "Yes, ma'am." "Good. Now, break the password down, piece by piece, and maybe even add in some information about you contacting me and what I did to your computer and how you proposed limits, but after that add in all the stuff I specifically asked you to prepare for your little speech today. Ready?" I swallowed hard, trying to remember everything. I was worried I'd forget something and decided to take it slowly and maybe embellish. If I did, she'd be happy and respect this as a limit. It was harsh, but I could do it, I decided. Then we'd be done, and well... over time she'd come around and maybe even date me. I did like her, for a large black lady. I'd never dated a black lady before, and maybe I'd get into it. We had struck up a rapport, hadn't we? If we did some of this as part of a relationship, nobody would know, and we could find a day each month to get weird. "I'm ready," I said. "Good. Now, I'm not going to interrupt. Depending upon how well you do, I'll either add things and make you do it again, or just go to something a lot harsher. We're trying to work within limits today, and respect that. All we're doing is talking, so far." "Yes ma'am." She didn't respond, only stared at me harshly while sitting back in her chair. The screen of my picture, that had been under hers, was gone. "Ummm. I'm making this video today because I want to say... (oh, this was going badly) My name is Joe Anderson. I'm an auditor who lives at 12746 Roam Oak Highway, Hebron, Ohio. Um, I'm five feet, nine, and weight a hundred and ninety pounds. I just got divorced, and...." I stood. "I just pissed myself. I do this all the time because I... uh... enjoy it and can't control my need to embarrass myself." I sat down. This sounded really bad, I realized. "Okay, I have picked a new computer name for when I log onto Mistress Linda's computer. It's her computer, now, because she Teamviewered me and took it over. My new computer name is Linda's Sissy Bitch. I really like the new name. It has a ring to it. And, my new password is several words or phrases mixed up with numbers." I swallowed hard. I think my head felt swimming, some. "The password's first phrase," and I read, "is, sissy maid. I like to pretend I'm a submissive shemale, sometimes, when I'm horny and alone. And the next phrase is," I read it off the sheet, and almost couldn't say the words: "cocksucker." When in deep subspace, I imagine myself being forced to do that for a lady, though I'm heterosexual, which is probably why it feels so submissive to me. Men who don't like sex with men are embarrassed most by thinking along those lines of being made to do things unsavory by women. "Finally, the last phrase in the password is... " I glared up at the video box inhabited by Mistress Linda. She rolled her eyes, and kicked, judging from the way her body jerked. "Ahum. The last phrase is ruined money pig. I, I, I, I, occasionally fantasize that someone will b, bl, blll, blackmail--I suppose is one way of thinking of it--blackmail me into doing things, or paying for small gifts for a... few hours. It's kind of a head game that makes me feel used, which is important for men into sexual slavery fantasy moments. This doesn't last, and I've never actually--" She started typing, I noticed. The little typing window showed someone then came up, "ADLIB." She kept typing. I added, "I am submissive, lots of times. I am also--" She speed typed: Start that password speech over, and make it clear that you love all those things and want them, or you'll be sucking dick and giving me your last dime by this time tomorrow!!!!! "Shit." I looked up at the screen. "I mean, I am a sissy maid. I enjoy cleaning the house while dressed in panties and an apron." Fuck it, I told myself. I was in way too deep to not just continue. "I like to suck cock. And, I want to be a ruined, money pig, blackmailed and degraded by an authoritative mistress." She typed, A lot! "I want it a lot. I crave being fucked in the ass and mouth, and wallet raped until I'm ruined." God dammit, I hoped that made her happy. On the other side of the computer, she clapped. The sound came back up. "Very nice, Joe. I tell you what, I'm going to edit that so the little mistakes are cut out, and leave it on my desktop for you to enjoy and contemplate until this evening, say around six. You can get some work done between now and then because I'm leaving the parental controls open for you. And, of course, you can use your other computer." "Yes, Mistress Linda." I felt totally defeated. "Between now and then, though, I want you to write a two thousand word essay on why you are so appreciative that I'm going to help you become a suck cocking faggot for me. Watch the clock, because once every half hour, you're to go get another sixteen ounces of water, coffee, cola, whatever suits you. See, I'm being nice, and not letting you dehydrate. Then, at exactly the top of each hour, you stand in front of my camera, smile, repeat some version of the same speech you just gave, only better each time, and pee your little pansy pants again. This is going to go on all day. You're not going out for lunch, taking a shower or changing your pissy faggot pants. I imagine your chair will end up ruined, but we'll fix that later." "Ummm." I'd thought about arguing, but it was useless. Fuck, this was crazy. But, what could I do? She had so much on me. And, I needed to do this, if for no other reason than to keep the limits to something reasonable. And to keep it just between her and I and not go to external extremes. "Yes, Mistress Linda," I sadly said, almost as a sigh. "Leave the little cocksucker spew on my desktop, since you are a slave user on my computer now, and aren't allowed, by its mistress, to use the folders. Only the mistress is. And I'm playing this little limits game. Only someone who isn't a cock-sucking sissy-maid pay- piggy can use those folders now." She left her chair. I waited. When she came back, it looked like she was doing something else. She even started talking, as if to another person. She had a second computer too, and was more than likely doing her flower business. "Shit." I'd been dismissed. Then she looked right at me and held her head cantered, as if warning. I jumped out of my wet cushioned seat and made a sixteen ounce glass of water while putting on a huge pot of coffee. What choice did I have, if I wanted her to not get mad and take me past this limit, which was disgusting, but I'd already done it, so...? Then I came back to my desk and started doing my work. Off in the corner, on the desktop computer, Mistress Linda brought a box of flowers to the opposite bench, and started making vases. Damn, she'd not lied about having a normal life. But, what did I have? Seven o'clock struck faster than I'd hoped. I had no choice, if I was going to limit the damage, and not entice her to do worse to me. I stood and stepped back so the camera could see all of me. I said: "My new computer name is Linda's Sissy Bitch. I really like the new name. It has a ring to it that makes me happy. My new password is several words or phrases mixed up with numbers, just so I can work at remembering it for Mistress Linda. The password contains the phrase, sissy maid. I want to be a submissive slut who cleans for her mistress. When I'm horny, I imagine myself sucking cock for my mistress. The last phrase in the password is ruined money pig. I am a blackmailed paypig. These phrases help me become a better slave. I imagine sucking cock to please my mistress. I crave being fucked in the ass and mouth, and used like a whore..." I stepped closer to the table, and looked down at the cold and dark smear of my foul-smelling pants. It warmed with new wetness until my bladder emptied. All the water and other drink had nearly filled my bladder again. Oh God, what next, I wondered, as I sat in my soaked chair and tried to concentrate on my work. Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Three. "I found your little essay on cock sucking to be exhilarating and insightful, Sissybitch. You are very good at writing. Did you enjoy revealing your interest in being a faggot?" By seven in the evening, I could barely stand the coldness, the wrinkled skin and the smell of old pee as I sat in my office chair, contemplating what had transpired. I'd somehow managed to get a good deal of work done, probably because I'd been so intent upon filling the time between the tasks of standing up, saying embarrassing mantras into the webcam and pissing myself, over and over again. Such tends to focus one and not leave much room for wandering around the house, getting the rest of the furniture wet. The smell was beyond appalling. This was not sexual, I realized after a very short bit of it. Rather, it was payback. I was paying her back attention and doing what she wanted, so she'd tire of me and quit this Teamviewer threat, giving me back control of my computer and allowing me to get on with my life. If I just did what she said, like a ditzy drone, I'd tire her out. Money domme was a stupid thing to get into. One minute of thrill for endless trouble. What was the point of it? Only an idiot succumbed to such a momentary whim. Alright, call me an idiot, but I'd learned my lesson, and when this was over, no more. One and done. Maybe I should ask if she had videos to sell; cut to the chase. Usually that was their business, I'd figured out. More than likely, if I bought ten of them at thirty bucks a cut, I'd be out a few hundred, but that'd be it. I'd written the embarrassing essay after getting my accounting and auditing work done on the newer laptop that she didn't control. Software on that was also continually shooting external video of my ordeal with Mistress Linda, so at least I had two sources of wanking material for the next ever-so-many years. In a year, maybe I'd recover enough from my fear to even think it was kinky again. I had a huge external drive, where I kept lots of old and yearly client accounts, and I decided to plug that into each computer, one at a time, dumping the internal video capture and external movie I'd been making over the past day plus. (The data for this encounter was really adding up.) Maybe this experience was worth it, considering the intensity and how it might sate my fantasies, next time I went crazy. Instead of laughing at myself over the next few years, I'd wank to it and be done. Laughing a little took my mind off the embarrassing essay about how much I enjoyed sucking dick and how much I enjoyed being Mistress Linda's sissy slave. Of course, I'd not ever think of doing the former and I wished like all hell I could easily break off doing the latter. More than likely I could because this was just a thing we were doing until she got bored. Getting bored was inevitable, particularly the way I was looking; it happened to everyone. I'd tried to cut it off with the last encounter with Mistress, but this time I had to be shrewd. They say in child psychology that you gave a child two choices and that was how to get them to pick among the things you find acceptable. I'd try that with Linda. I felt sure it'd work. She came online that evening and dismissed me to go shower. "Oh, and throw out the smelly chair. We'll go online and pick out another one for the house." I left the computer and lingered under the shower for a long time. When I came back, I gladly took the chair to the curb. I had a lawn chair that I sat in its place. She wasn't online, but a message presented itself in notepad: Eat and rest, slave. We're going shopping at 11:30. But first, go out on the web and find another hundred penises for the folder. I'd tried to sleep, but it had been fitful. When the alarm went off, I startled up with a dread. Still, my erection was instant, and I felt a desperate need to get back to my computer, hoping we'd at least do something sexual. Mistress Linda was already shopping on Amazon. The shopping cart she was in had the page number 8 under it. We were back to chatting by typing, I noticed. She typed: There you are. I'm getting you some new things. Joe: For me? After marking a size and both big and tall, she moved a grey and white service-maid dress into the cart. It was listed at $59. Linda: You do need a firm hand. Joe: Yes, Mistress Linda. I figured I didn't have to actually buy what was in the cart. Even if I did, I could return the whole box of things, once they got here. Alright, boxes of things. Linda: Stand up. Let me get another look at what I have to work with. I stood, feeling a little awkward with a boner. After all, I meant to argue for calling this thing off. Joe: We need to talk about limits, Mistress Linda. Linda: Ha! The size of your dick is a limit, all by itself. I know, I know. But bear with me, slave. In the meantime, please type your name. Joe: Lindassissybitch. An item came up on the screen. Linda: I just love this model. They say that if your dick goes in one of these for long enough, it can actually shrink. Shrink to what, I suppose you're asking. The order form came up. It was for a chastity device made of metal. It seemed like a steel prison and only looked a couple inches long. It came complete with an attached steel rod that appeared to run down the middle of the tiny chastity device. Joe: How does that work? Linda: You insert the rod as you slide on the device. The end of the rod ends up inside of your little sissy cunt, right at the base of your body where the cock attaches, in the center of where the testicle ring goes around your scrotum. No way this comes off. It's like putting your little penis in jail with a constantly pestering cellmate fucking your pee hole the whole time you're locked up. Isn't that delicious. You won't be able to stop thinking about getting peephole fucked, even for a moment. I swallowed hard, glanced down toward my dick, and typed: Yes, Mistress Linda. Is that necessary? What else do they have? Otherwise, I was saying, hell no, deeper inside. How did a person live with a rod up his penis? She flipped to the checkout lane. The bill was over two thousand dollars. Express checkout came next, after which she added overnight shipping charges. I could afford it, but still it was a crazy number. I tried to grab the mouse and keep her from hitting checkout, but she had control. The credit card information came up. Amazingly, my password numbers were being typed in, and then she tapped enter. Thank you for your purchase. "I can't believe it," I said. She leaned and hit some key. "You know, I have your microphone on, and I can hear everything you say." "It's just a lot of money," I said. She hit a few number, and the mouse ran all over the page. Finally my checking account screen came up. A few security numbers were typed in, and bang, my bank statement came up. "You have plenty of money, Joe." Well, I did. I had enough to retire quite comfortably on, if I needed. That only applied if I didn't blow it all. And the way she pulled up my account, like it was something she did all the time, almost stopped my heart. I seemed to recall having had a few thousand dollars more than it showed, but the bulk of the assets were in market-driven funds, so I couldn't be sure. "All we bought were things for you, anyway, so settle down, sissybitch." I had no choice but to placate her. She didn't even need my computer to pull up my bank and Amazon and whatever else she had the goods on. Apparently all that information was over in her computer. I'd have to wait to change my passwords and such. I determined to do that the moment we disengaged the session. Her voice cut into my thoughts: "Now, I'm going to put on some music I uploaded to your computer, so you can dance like a fairy." ### Later, I said to the service representative on the other end of the phone, "Uh-huh. But--" "Sorry, Sir. That's the best I can do unless you want to fill out a police report and send us a copy. Changing orders and accounts over the phone has its limits when you can't verify mother's maiden name." She hung up. "But what if all I want to do is cancel my account!" After she'd hung up I asked that question. It was the second time. She'd said I might be an imposter, given I couldn't answer any of the new security questions Mistress Linda had obviously changed. I'd have to formalize everything with a police complaint and representation, maybe taking months. The police tended to think of these crimes as almost civil matters. And to be honest, those company complaint departments were dead end answering stations in India, where nobody had the authority to fix anything, anyway. I'd learned on Nightline that companies would rather settle lawsuits than keep a complaint department that actually worked; it was cheaper. Not a single complaint had ever been resolved by many of them, and some of the biggest were the worst. I'd tried to cancel five accounts, so far, and had come up with nothing. A couple promised to do something, but I'd been asked to do it through my computer. Even my phone number no longer matched. I picked up the phone again, and didn't even have dial tone. After a half hour of pacing, I picked it up again, and it was back. I had a track phone, and tried to dial myself. Nothing. I dialed out on the altered landline to my track phone, and the track phone rang. Soon as I hung up the regular phone rang. "Hello?" "Get your mail yet, Sissybitch?" "Linda?" "Who were you expecting?" "Nobody, Mistress." "I'm nobody?" "Not you, Mistress." "This attitude has to stop." I sighed. Legal channels seemed daunting. I'd have to placate her. So far we were only into a couple thousand, and all it'd meant was kinky stuff for me to play with, anyway. I had to suck it up and out- patience her. "Sorry, Mistress. Yes, the mail came." "Good. Bring everything in the room and start unwrapping while I do my work." She was in her flower shop, the laptop and its camera on some shelf. She turned to her own work bench, and started arranging a bouquet of flowers. Shit. I went into the living room and brought back the packages. It took three trips. I started unwrapping. There were maid dresses, half of them frilly and the other three plain grey, like for motel workers. The aprons came in small, pink, medium plain and a huge one, like for cleaning the oven, I supposed. She had ordered inch high heels and two inch heels. The panties were pink, red and white, some with ruffles, a couple like the kind granny wore. Then came garter belts, stockings, a couple girdles and a corset. She'd included an Este Lauder makeup kit that hadn't been cheap. One box held nothing but a razor, some blades and a half case of Nair. The hoop earrings had clearly been a mistake because I didn't have pierced ears. I set them aside, alongside the ebony and ivory pendant necklace. A blonde wig hadn't come cheap. A size C pair of falsies made an appearance in a box of braziers. A tiny, pink purse with giant red lips on it had me wanting never to go out of the house. Then came the box of novelty items. Two dildos, both black, one medium, one large. A third, a tiny white one, had a suction cup on the back of it. Another was double, like for two people at once. A strap-on harness seemed a waste since nobody was around to wear it. There were handcuffs and a fat, ugly butt plug, two inches across at the widest part. She was sitting at her table, watching me intently as I put the last dildo down on the floor behind me. "My phone number has been changed," I mentioned. "I know. I had your services altered. The cable TV has been cancelled, too. And, you have a new number. But, your internet connection is better. I've had you added to my home services, like they do for college kids who move away from home. Or, more accurately, the other way around. I'm on your account now, but the bill comes to my address. Overall, it comes to about the same, and we just auto-bill it to your bank. I'll give you your new number, later, in case you need to tell clients. Pretty much all the utilities are set up like that, now." I felt flabbergasted. Did she just say my bank account was now auto- paying for her utilities at her house? "Open that last box, sissybitch. I'm dying to see." "Wait a minute. About the utilities." "All I've done is save money, Joe. If you were smart, you'd appreciate it when someone you are enslaved to saves herself money while dealing with said property. Your cable bill was atrocious, and it makes no sense at all that you were carrying hundreds on your credit cards, with all you had in savings." "You paid off my credit card?" "A good mistress takes care of her money slaves. It's not about robbing you blind and leaving you unable to perform. It's about making sure things go smoothly; a steady stream that benefits everyone, Joe. Paying interest, when you have the money in the bank, makes no sense. And, just so you know, I believe that two can live even more cheaply than one, which we may visit. In fact, I'm sure of it. Trust me; I have your interests foremost in my mind. Starting with paying off the credit cards." "I only have one credit card, and it has a five thousand dollar limit." "Well, no wonder, the way you left it sitting there with that same modest balance for god knows how long. I fixed it for us. It now has a much better balance, too, as a reward. With good credit, you can increase the limit and get several more." "I don't want several more." "Don't worry about it. I'm not interested in you running up a big credit card bill, either. I believe I already mentioned that and have demonstrated good faith. I'm like your new money manager, making the most of what you have, so relax." Her face appeared stern. I swallowed then sat in my new plain chair. "Sorry, Mistress. It's just you said cards, and I only have the one so I don't get into money problems." "Alright, I confess. I noticed how yours had been sitting with only a couple hundred off it, paying interest when it wasn't necessary, and it inspired me to pay mine off, as well. I was guilty of the same thing, so you can claim credit for causing me to see the errors of my ways and helping me pay my credit cards off. We are learning to grow more responsible, together." She smiled into the camera and leaned. The cleavage was amazing. I didn't know what to ask. I was almost afraid to. She did sound sincere, so maybe I'd get out of this with a little better money discipline and be better off, as she suggested. Minus the splurge on sissy gear, of course. "Are you going to open the last box, or not, sissybitch?" I did, with dread. The steel chastity device fell out. A lock, with two keys, in a tiny, stapled plastic bag, also fell out. "There are several rings that fit around your testicle and sissy clit," she said. "Stand up, so I can see how tiny you are, again." I did. "Well, take off your jockeys. My God, I can't believe you put on male panties. It's like a little clit. We'll have to get rid of the jockeys later. In the meantime, do you have any scissors?" "Yes, Mistress." With shaking fingers, I grabbed some out of my desk drawer. "Good, now chant after me: No more male panties. No more male panties. Cut them up while you chant." Shit! The scissors had been left right there on the table. "That's a girl." I started cutting up my jockey shorts while chanting like an idiot drone to her will. Maybe after we'd done about everything embarrassing, maybe she'd let me go and I could get on with my life. The male "panties" were soon bits of cloth at my feet. "Now, hold your balls up so I can tell how big they are. Oh, God, is that all? Can you even get a girl pregnant? Look at that little dick and useless bag of white-trash, slave-making sperm. Do you have a ruler? Put a ruler up against your body so I can see how big a white boy's dick is? I heard they were small, but I can't believe it." Oh fuck! I had a ruler in my desk, too. I did as she suggested, even when she asked me to turn this way and that, and to put my dick right up near the camera, while holding it alongside the ruler. "Two and a half inches? Really?" "It's not really erect, Mistress," I tried. "Probably because you're been playing with it, too much. No wonder. You have a white boy attitude, sissybitch. White privilege, we call it, down here on my side of town." "Yes, Mistress. Sorry, Mistress." "Alright, well, good thing I bought you the smallest chastity device available. You might as well use the smallest ring, too. The worst that can happen is you lose circulation and it all falls off." She laughed. "You'll not even notice." The ring was only an inch and a half, inside diameter. I didn't have a clue how it fit. "Push one ball through, then the other. Then bend your dick and push it through." I did as she suggested, and it was super hard to do because I literally felt each testicle pinch through, one at a time. By the time I got to the dick part, I'd grown a three and a half inch erection, making that a little harder. With a serious strain, I finally got it all through then adjusted the skin so the ring was snug up against my body. The ring felt too tight, and if I moved it reminded me that it was there. Also, there were other parts, suggesting they might compress it tighter. "Excellent. Now, you have some lube in that one box, I noticed. Lub up your useless dick a little. There you go. Now, put some on the little tube in the middle of the chastity cage. Good. You'll need the small spacer, since your balls are so tiny and we need it tight. Good sissybitch." Oh, hell. I had it all prepped, and was holding it in my right hand, with my dick in the other. Was I really going to do this thing? I looked at the lock, on the table before me. It had two tiny little keys, though the lock looked like a solid one, and the keys pretty facetted, meaning the lock wasn't a cheap thing. On the other hand, those keys looked a lot like a couple I had on a lock in my bottom drawer. I could switch them, if she asked me to send some keys. She'd never know. "Are you ready to fuck your little pee-pee with that thing and end up all frustrated and miserable for your mistress? This will be like real torture, won't it bitch?" "Yes, Mistress. I'm ready, Mistress." All the while, I dreaded having to shove that central pipe up my pee hole, even if I did have a plan to rid myself of it later, when she was no longer that interested in the new guy. I'd have the right keys, and she'd have the useless ones, none the wiser. Still, the pipe part of the pathetically short, two-inch long chastity cage was almost a whole inch longer than the cage, itself. I'd end up impaled clear past the ring around my balls, inside my body. Was it even safe? The impaling end of the hollow tube even bulged out some, like a bead. Was putting that so far in me even sterile? With it in me, my dick would have maybe a tad over a half inch of space around the impaler before it abutted the ring, where they coincided up against my body. That seemed really tight, even if I did have a tiny white-boy penis. "Put it in. I'm about to have an orgasm, just watching you do that to yourself." She had one hand in her crotch. Oh fuck. I aligned the impaler and because of all the lube, it didn't even hesitate when I pushed it into my pee hole. God, that felt strange. But, I could stand it. The lube helped, a lot. I pushed it in an inch, feeling it start to resist. I had to pull it back out." "That's it, fuck yourself with it a little. More lube, sissybitch. Work it in. You can do it." "Maybe I--" "You're not going to disappoint me, are you. I'd have to find something else to fuck your pee hole with. Something fatter. I can go buy it, right now." "I'm sorry, Mistress." I squeezed more lube on the thing. "Here I go." It went in more smoothly with more lube. I didn't feel as much resistance then, as it moved to the ring, I could feel my whole dick back there, like someone was squeezing it tight around and inside the ring. Finally, the slightly wider portion of the tube slipped past the ring and I had to align the pins on the ring so the device holes lined up. After a couple tries, the pins slid through, including the bigger central one, where a smaller hole near my body awaited the lock. "Oh, there you go. No more penis time for you, sissybitch. Now, put the lock through the hole and snap it on." This was pretty erotic, in a way. I picked up the lock. I threaded it through, and after a breath of air, snapped it locked. Clink! "That's a girl. Now, no more penis for you, like god intended for all the girls. We can expect a much more enlightened attitude from whitey, I should think. I will probably have to arrange a kind of conjugal visit, for when I decide you've earned some penis time. Or maybe not. We'll see." "Yes, Mistress," I said. I shifted a little, and the probe in my dick was almost overwhelmingly debilitating. How did a person stand it? The impossibly small cage around my cock was one thing, but the probe was absolute torture, like someone was sticking her finger up my dick and every time I moved, wiggling it around in my groin, particularly near the ring. I felt like I was peeing, constantly. If I had to hold it in, could I? Seriously, I felt like I was being raped by an unwanted intruder, no matter how I moved. I even sensed some air up there inside. I couldn't stand five minutes of this. "We should try one of the keys, just to be safe," she said. "Thank God," I let slip, as I picked up the keys and slid one into the lock. I tried twisting it, but nothing happened. I tried the other one. I turned it over and it didn't even go in, so that wasn't the problem. I tried to put it in a little, halfway, most of the way, and turn it. I tried forcing it a little, but that wasn't the problem. Damn, if I wasn't stuck in this. Maybe I just didn't know how the lock worked? Maybe I had to push it closed more to get the key to engage. That didn't work because it was all the way closed already. The chastity device was solid stainless steel, for crying out loud. The bars were thicker than the openings between them. I'd need a toothpick to even touch myself. If I got an erection, I'd be out of room, more than an inch short. In fact, I was getting one, and already felt the pressure. As it moved, the bead at the end of the rod inside of me fucked my hole. My dick and balls seemed to pull out from my flesh because there was nowhere for everything to fit inside the cage. I'd never seen my junk out like that before. The pressure was only worse and from every piece of my package. I wondered if I could even lose the erection, this way. Would I lose circulation, so constrained? The idea of my dick dying and falling off no longer seemed remote. It'd likely happen in my sleep, when I wasn't paying attention for hours on end. "Good. I needed to check. I paid special to have them send me the right keys and to just put any old keys in yours. You have to check the keyholder box for that service. It cost us thirty extra dollars, but it was worth it, just watching your face, sissybitch, and you saved that much on this month's credit interest, alone. I got it all on video, too, so I can watch it over and over. I think you almost turned a shade of green there, for a minute. That's priceless." She started giggling, and almost fell off her chair. "Shit!" "It was so... worth it." She tried to compose herself. "Fuck me, Mistress." I tried to steady my breathing. "I don't think I can stand it. How long do I have to keep it on?" She didn't answer me. "Women have their periods and put things up inside, all the time." "I'm serious... Mistress." "You'll adjust." "Adjust? It's pulling hair, Mistress. The thing is so tight it's pulling my pubic hairs." "Glad you mentioned that, but before we do, look in the bottom of that box over there from Amazon. I think the blue-tooth camera is inside." Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Four. I found myself shaving my chest and legs under the mist of a hot shower and the prying eyeball of a portable camera bluetoothed to the computer. She'd been most insistent that I leave a landing patch of hair just over my penis. She'd given me the option of a triangle or a rectangular, "As long as it's neat and big enough for anyone to take notice, should they catch you out of your panties." I gasped. "What if someone should see me with no hair?" I'd asked. "A date would--" "Let me worry about your hookups, boy. I decide who you get on with, and who you don't, from now on. You don't want to get a reputation as a loose slut, anyway. A girl has to think about her reputation. In fact, I'm kind of insulted. Aren't I your girlfriend?" I realized it was a moot point until this settled down. She was right; dating at the moment would just be way too much. And, people got tired of things. I was betting she'd tire of me in a couple more days. "Yes, ma'am." So I went into the bathroom and did as she asked. Once started, there was no way I could shave without shaving everything down as tightly as possible. Otherwise I'd itch. The Nair burned, but by that time there wasn't much hair for it to dissolve. I showered the last of my hair off and dried before going back to my room. "Aren't you sweet. Much better, Joe," Linda said from the computer screen. "Put on the hoop earrings." One pair had screw-on, so I fumbled around until they dangled. "Now, adorn yourself with some panties and a bra and go stand with your nose in the corner of the living room. Wait! Don't forget to turn the speaker up and bring your little camera, so I can check on you from time to time during my day." "During your day?" I strained, putting on the panties. "Do I look like I'm not busy?" She spread her arms, displaying all the flowers scattered and arranged on tables. I started hooking the bra in front, then twisting it around to reach into the shoulder straps. "But--" "Get, bitch. I want you in the corner, like I told you, or else bad things are going to happen!" She put her fists on her plump hips and glared, leaning into the camera. Once so close that I couldn't see her hands anymore, my bank account records came up in a tiny window over to the side. "I'm sorry for being slow. I'm getting right to it, Mistress." I grabbed the blue-tooth camera and plugged it into a wall socket before plopping it onto a side table. I'm not even sure if it was adjusted right to catch my whole body, but I aimed it in the general direction. In a second, I was standing in the corner with my nose up tight, "Hands on your hips." Shit. "Pinky fingers pointed out!" Shit. "Now wiggle your little male pussy if you feel yourself stiffening up, Joe. I don't want you passing out like those soldiers do when they're made to stand at attention too long. See how nice I am?" "Yes, Mistress," I yelled so maybe she could hear it in the computer speaker a room away. "Now, sing the words I taught you, slut!" boomed on the speakers that were turned way up. Shit. "I'm a little sissy maid, cock sucking money pig," I had to sing sixteen lines of that. She'd taught me to sing it to the tune of Little Teapot. "Louder. I can't hear you." I sang louder. "Try your sissy voice!" I had to almost scream in a cappella. "You only have to sing and sway your pussy every fifteen minutes, Joe. I don't want you to get hoarse." I had to count off the minutes in sixty second bites: sixty seconds, sixty seconds, until ten minutes. When I went over to eleven, she yelled, "That's thirty more minutes in the corner for being late." Shoot. I found myself singing, "I'm a little sissy maid, cock sucking money pig," every five minutes, just to be sure. "Sway those hips while you sing, bitch!" "Sorry, Mistress. "I'm a little sissy maid, cock sucking money pig...." "Thirty more minutes. I don't see those pinky fingers up." "Thirty minutes more added to what?" I mumbled so low I was sure she couldn't hear it. I kept my hands curled, except for the pinky fingers, both of which felt like they were going to fall off. After a minute she added. "Let me help. I'll let you keep your fingers together, as long as you have them open, palms facing the floor. Elbows rigid. Swing that pussy when you're like that. Otherwise, pinky finger while standing still. That's better. Like a little sissy." I tried facing my palms parallel to the floor and wiggling. It was stupid, so I went back to standing still with my pinky fingers sticking out. Once, I got confused and didn't wiggle my ass while singing. "Another thirty minutes, sissy." After that I tried to keep it straight. Wiggling my ass was the important thing. Sometimes I did that even when I wasn't required, mostly out of paranoia. ### "Gee, Sissybitch, you have a fairly nice business going there," she said the next day. I'd just finished affixing the last of ten blue- toothed cameras to their mounts, as she'd instructed from the floor plan. Them and the expansion router had come in yesterday afternoon. I did this while only wearing panties and a bra because she'd decided to give me a break from a dress for the morning. I leaned toward the microphone and hit respond. "Thank you, Mistress." "I want to hire your services. I have a business, too, you know." "Well, uh--" "Don't you think black people can have businesses, Sissybitch?" "No, Mistress, or I mean, of course black people--" "Or is it women who can't own successful businesses, in your mind?" "Of course women can have businesses. Two of my clients are women, Mistress Linda." "Good. I'll start feeding you the particulars on my lawn care business right away. Soon as you get that started I can demote the accountant doing that one." Ten minutes later, the whole wad downloaded. I had books for twenty- seven trucks, two cars, forty full-time employees, a few part-timers. Healthcare, tax pipelines, client billing; it was extensive. Usually a company like that had more than one bookkeeper on staff. It'd tax that person just to feed me the right data in a timely fashion. Even scheduling seemed an accounting function, I noticed. Did they even have managers? Well, yeah, but mostly rolling, and apparently one or two guys who drank a lot of coffee (my guess). It looked like they were on the edge of being illegal because of plain sloppiness. The company worked out of a small warehouse two cities over. It was going to take me an eighty hour week just to park all the data into databases that had a prayer of allowing me to keep track of it. I sent Mistress Linda a note saying it'd be a month before I could pick it up fulltime, and even then they'd need to run parallel with the old accounting firm before we turned the switch. I sent that alongside a quote for services. It was five figures a month. She sent a note back. "No problem. I'll make sure they pay the figure and I know the process of sending the data. Those suggestions for the bookkeeper are also helpful. They'll toe the line for you, sissybitch. I was in the process of sending another note back when she came online. "I'll have to contact them directly, Mistress. Maybe several times a week." "Fine. I'll set it up. Use this number." She sent one via messenger. "Just tell them you are sissybitch. They already have your number." I sat there in my panties, stunned. "Shouldn't I use the name Joe for professional contacts?" "Oh, that's right. Joe then. And, I have two more companies like that, followed by my own, of course." "I can't handle all that work, Mistress Linda?" "No problem. We'll set one up per month. By then you'll have more capacity. I'll make sure you get what you need. A bigger server, a couple stations. I know a computer guy." "A computer guy?" "One of my sluts. He already said you'd do better with a higher capacity line. Get this going, and let him do the work. He's one of mine, anyway. Everything's free for me." Free? "Free?" "Soon as you get this company all set to go and do a day's work without that other firm, we'll see what we can do about that chastity, sissybitch." She leaned into the camera shot and in the process showed considerable cleavage. What in hell was going on? Well, at least I was getting a big client. And the dick-piercing chastity thing off. A client as big as this one nearly doubled my income. Maybe this disaster was about to turn? "Alright, Mistress," I said. "Good. I told the computer guy to get his ass over there tomorrow morning, five o'clock, sharp. He will be decking the place out with a little office furniture, a server, four desktops, as well as meeting with the provider for more capacity. Shoot, sissybitch, I'm doing all the work for you." Something wasn't right. I had to type it; I couldn't speak for the sake of a sense of dread: Yes, Mistress. "In the meantime, clear out a room. This one's good. The family room and the other spare bedroom, too. Just empty them, for now. I have a dumpster being delivered later this afternoon." "Empty them?" "Use your discretion. You might want to move things around, but yes, most of the stuff will have to go. I'm remodeling for your new business, sissybitch. You can't stay small forever. I'm bringing you three new clients. Say thank you for making something out of you other than the small-time vision you had last week." "Thank you." I think I breathed the words rather than said them. Up till then my business had been comfortably just right for me. I suppose I could have been bigger, but I was just one guy. I bit off what I could manage. How would I manage three times the workload? These new businesses didn't seem tiny. "If you took the two side tables and chairs out of your bedroom, you could fit two dressers and another small bed in there, in case of guests. You don't need so many bedrooms. You can eat in the kitchen, and still have the living room free for TV and this computer desk. And, that basement is a mess. By all means, don't add anything to that. In fact, with the dumpster there, I suggest cleaning out at least a third of that junk, too. You have all night. A clean house is a clean slave." I'd never heard that saying before. I typed, hoping to get something on record: If my business expands, I'll maybe just get a bigger house and better furniture. "I think that's a wonderful idea, sissybitch. We're working on it. I'm with you one-hundred percent of the way." I had a brainstorm, just then. I said, "I'll be too big. I'll need an assistant or two. I can't dress and act like we're doing with others in the house. This slave arrangement is going to become impractical for us both." It was my way out, finally. She'd see sense in it, now that she wanted me to do her books instead of playing S&M bullshit like we were. The incentive to make better money with a capable accounting and consultation firm in hand would change the balance entirely in my favor, finally!!! She'd forget everything we'd been doing entirely. I had the ace. I'd stumbled on it like the goodie godmother had hit me with her wand. I added this to my typing: It'd be best to just call me Joe, from now on. We need to build together, now that I'm going to do your books. Maybe not so much playing domme and sub, I suggest. Just an issue of professionalism in the different arena where people might notice, I mean. I'm excited about the new relationship. Shoot, maybe I'd find a way to rob her back for enough cash to pay for what I'd lost. She'd never know it with the gains she'd see from my better work for her flower business, assuming her business was as brisk as she'd let on. I was a CPA, after all. They practically trained us in how to spin a little off the top of the books, make money from how things are accounted, and for the most part be legal, or at least grey enough that nobody could hold anyone accountable, particularly if all concerned got rich. One percent of a hundred ten percent deal was a fair cut that nobody cared to notice. We'd call it a survey underwriter tax and boom: smoke. "I know someone who can do basic accounting. I can get another guy into one of those two-month courses," she said. "You're the CPA. All you need are people to do a reasonable job with entry and juggling what you've set up, under your direction, right, Joe?" She called me JOE! I realized that I'd actually taken a full breath for the first time in weeks. "Yes Ma'am. We can do good business together," I said into the mic. It was a nightmare building a big company, like she proposed, but the Teamviewer disaster had gotten all-consuming, to the point where I'd imagined no end likely but some kind of guttural doom. Now I felt almost free. In fact, why hadn't I thought of going bigger first. With a couple of low-pay assistants, I could easily triple my income and be back to where I'd been financially in half a year. I giggled. "What's going on, Joe?" Linda asked. "I'm just excited about taking on your account, Linda." It was like sitting there in a pink chair, chatting in nothing more than panties--bulging with a chastity device--and a bra wasn't even part of the picture. "Well, in that case, I'm excited too. We can really make something expand here, together, with my account and the two new people I'm sending over. You should consider cleaning out the whole basement. Just leave like ten percent. If the dumpster gets too full, just let me know and I'll have them bring a second one. You can finish up while the computer guy is working. Instead of a house, it can be more like a place of business, until we expand, like you suggested." "Perfect." "Good. You might as well get busy. And," She laughed. "you can put on that one pair of pants and shirt I let you keep. You'll obviously be going in and out a lot. You'll have to settle for the pink sneakers, though." She laughed again, though it didn't sound scoffing, more like she felt as much of a relief to be done with the mistress thing as I felt. What the hell. New leaf. I'd get the house so cleared out from under the old crap, I'd have to buy myself new furniture and home entertainment center and maybe that big house that was a lot over, to put it in. Once I got rich enough, who knows: Maybe I could bring in a hooker every week and really live it up. We'd even play S&M on occasion, though without that crazy Teamviewer shit to fuck it up. Oh hell, now I felt jaded. I really wasn't like that. I was a simpler person and not into hookers, really. I could use a date with a real woman who wasn't all fantasy and leather, though, particularly after my hair grew out a little. Other than on my head, where it was really getting long. ### "So this is the setup. One house about to be mostly an office, I see," the tech said. "You look like you're in the middle of a complete cleanout." He sounded like he had a Jamaican accent. Tall, thirties, plain blue shirt. I paused for a breath. "Out with the old, in with the...." I'd been hauling boxes to the dumpster all morning long. Even good things were going, in my commitment to start fresh after my brush with disaster engaged in that Teamviewer mistake. And, the computer tech was late. "Do you think you can get everything done by the end of the day, or will you be back tomorrow?" I asked. "Let me see your breaker panel before I answer that." Breaker panel? "Sure." I led him through the dining room and kitchen and into the pantry. I opened the breaker panel. "Oh,that's good. You have three slots in a row. From what I saw of the rooms we were going for, that's mostly a straight shot through this wall and over the one room to the next. Piece of cake." There came a knock on the front door. "Excuse me," I said. An older white man in his seventies stepped in. He looked a bit haggard, but asked, "Mr. Anderson? I'm the electrician with the new panel." "Um?" "New computer installs, I hear. Usually people gang up about fifty strips before they get smart about it. Sometimes they burn down the house." "How much work is--" "Till it's done." He sighed. "Maybe before supper." Right behind him came the furniture people, apparently three more Jamaicans. They called the two vacant bedrooms first. All that was left in either of the rooms were my two computers. The tech took them into the dining room and set up on the table. "I'll need the passwords to set these up on the new servers." I almost lost my cookies while thinking about giving him the password to my main computer. Worse, looking at the humiliating screen on the computer Mistress Linda had conquered was mortifying. Apparently he noticed my red face. "Hey," he shifted to a whisper. "I know about Linda. She's used our services a few times. That lady can get out of hand, and there are more of you submissive white men then you think." "Really?" I was maybe even more shocked. "Town's full of you guys. I can't believe you white folk invented slavery, the way you get into these messes." I bit my tongue and considered passing out. Here was this lean but muscular black dude at least ten years younger than me, knowing my dirty laundry. If I'd been a bug, I'd have found a crack to crawl into. I had to say something. "Well, sorry about that slavery thing. I'd have been on the North's side, if that helps." He kept a stern face, more than likely he noticed my discomfort: "Just fucking with you." He smiled huge. "This is the first time she's used me to set up an accounting firm." He amended that: "Not that I've not put computers in for accounting people. I mean, the kinky stuff being like a referral for that particular clientele...." He paused a moment in thought. "I'm putting my foot in it. Just don't worry, dude. All that other stuff is just sex. You should see what I have on my computer." His eyes wiggled. "Everyone does it, even the brothers." He winked a couple times. "This is an accounting firm, right?" He stood a little straighter and asked again. "I'm doing an accounting firm? I don't care what you do in your down time, my man." I nodded after that speech. "Yes. Thank you," I said maybe a little too loudly. "Welcome, my friend. Now, you'll have to give me the passwords for the accounting computer. Which one is that? Or is it both?" "That one!" I pointed to the server. He mumbled, "I'm doing an accounting firm." He pointed to the convenient counter in the dining room, where there was now plenty of space. As he pointed left to right, he said, "Server two, client one, client two, client three, backup three and client four combo in the last unit. I'm a professional... or do you think black people can't be professional and are only into that cuckold Mandingo crap?" I was mortified that he'd think I was that kind of person. "No, sir. It's just the other thing that has me rattled. My moments of weakness, I mean." He chortled. "I'm trying to forget the extra-curricular stuff, at least during this job.... If it's alright with you?" I felt foolish and nodded. What was the matter with me? Any accountant in his right mind would be impressed by a whole new network on the level the man was making. At a discount, I hoped. "By the way, the phone company will have you disconnected this afternoon for a faster connection. They take about an hour and work outside. All the pipes have to be the right size, if you're five, six, whatever, computers instead of one. I aimed at five times the capacity we're putting in today, just for overhead." Seemed like he had a handle on it. "Uh... all this costs--" "Discount. Half price, me, half price furniture guys. Whole deal under ten grand, including the phone company. The furniture guys do what looks like custom work, but it's really out of the box and a couple desks sawed off at the end unit when the last desk doesn't quite fit. Everything fit like a glove in the last office I saw them do. You buy custom, you're an idiot. New fans for the attic vent, as well. Honestly, I don't know anyone who does it a quarter the price we're into today. Lucky you, meeting Linda." I felt a little bit of relief. Ten grand? Shit. That was nothing for professional furniture. The computer dude looked at the old man dragging in a circuit box. "The electrician is a steal." He cupped his hand and breathed the next words with half a chuckle: "One of hers. She pays cost on the equipment, most of which is left over from some previous job. Then she charges him fifty bucks to work. Otherwise he'd break even. The old man loves being used like that; can you believe some white folk?" Then he wiggled his eyebrows, shook his head as if it was beyond belief. He capped it off with a wink. "You get a better deal than that, and I eat my shorts. It was actually your lucky day when a guy like you found that woman. Linda's a pill, but she has good business savvy, often making something out of nothing." "Shit." "Later this week the fire protection and OSHA sign guy will make a visit; just so you know. For now, just finish what you're doing in the basement and get the hell out of the way," He chuckled. "Let us do what we do best, A, B, C." He winked again. Maybe it was a habit. ### Mistress had sent me Debbie. She actually had an undergrad degree in accounting. Dolly had been enrolled in school the previous week, apparently at the insistence of Linda. The community college had a six month course in the discipline, no frills. Betty Boobs was starting next week and making up for the two weeks she missed by home-studying our system with my online tutorial help. That gave me one accountant, two dada entry girls and a ton of work. Besides training everyone, I had new computers to manage and three new huge accounts, the combination bigger than my previous workload. Starting an account was always ten times the work of managing one, necessitating me going to each office, two were the next state over and the other a few miles down the road. Once a week I drove out to them all, drove back, and checked on the new data entry gurls, all in the course of one long day. Working with men who were obviously wearing feminine undergarments and introducing themselves with female names was odd (they did provide male names for employee purposes), but I found it impossible to even comment on that issue. Linda had obviously found them from within her group of "associates", explaining the forced lisps and showing undergarments. God forbid they should make mention of my similar secrets, after all. It was like the unwritten secret that we not say much about it. How are the new gurls working out, Joe, Mistress Linda wrote in a text box on my management computer one day while I was just sitting there un-fogging after sending everyone home after another twelve hour day. The two understudies had actually moved into town and were living in the same apartment. Shit! I'd had no idea, up until then, that she had the ability to ride right up on the company mainframe and poke into my computer like that. She was in, bigtime. When my heart settled enough for my fingers to work, I typed: They seem motivated. Her face came up, filling the whole screen. She was at a desk in what might have been a bedroom. A photo of a muscular man holding a football was affixed to the flowerily patterned wall. "Oh, they're motivated, alright. I found Dolly and Betty basically on the unemployment line. They thought contacting a computer mistress was acceptable without money. Like I do this for free...." She laughed. "Well, come to think of it, maybe they were right, given I did take them on without them paying me a dime," she said into the microphone. I asked into my microphone, which I assumed to be on the new speaker, "You previously knew these people as clients?" Not that I hadn't suspected, based upon their undergarments and demeanors. Apparently Mistress had commanded them to not make further mention. "Well, so far, Debbie, Amy and Betty are the only Teamviewer slaves in your area with accounting potential. Usually I don't take slaves who are poor, but it can pay off. I mean, I hire people who are unemployed for my flower company. Nobody thinks that is strange." "Point taken." "Are we making money, yet?" "Not yet broken even, but after the first month..." I considered hedging it a bit, and did. "...I should double what I was making before the upgrade and new business. I'm paying a hell of a lot of overtime and training, at the moment, getting things off the ground." "Debbie's going to be even more help, soon. His wife just found out about his... nastiness." "What do you mean?" "Having an internet Mistress is the same thing as cheating, Joe. Even I know that." I swallowed. At least I was single and hadn't resorted to that. "Out on his ear before the night is done, I suspect." She glared at me through the screen, obviously seeing my reaction on the cameras that were still lit all over the house. "Don't look at me, like that. I'm not the one meeting internet mistresses on Teamviewer, all hours of the night. You guys deserve what you get." "What's he going to do?" "I suppose she can stay there with you, don't you think? You gurly gurls ought to get along. You have so much in common." "Well, I don't know. I have--" "That extra bed in your room, a nice living room and dining room. The basement is almost empty. I hear the enclosed back porch is precious. Damn, Joe, have a heart. She is your best employee." She? This was the most awkward business relationship ever. But, since we were on the subject, I had to ask, "Do you mind if I take the chastity thing off? I have a hacksaw if you lost the key." I'd been masturbating with it on, which was possible, but not all that fulfilling. Also, the tube running up my pee hole felt weird as an ice pick up my ass. Sometimes I managed to forget about it, but not for more than two minutes at a time. It was like I was being fucked up a tiny vagina by a straw, 24/7. I had to pee twenty times a day, too, because the thing being in there like that made half the muscles that kept me from incontinently pissing myself useless. "Not right away. First we have some business to discuss. To start with, I'm sending you my flower business accounting firm data next week, like we mentioned." I swallowed, already having expected as much. What was the workload of one more little account after all? Shoot, with that data, maybe I'd have something on her, for a change. "Okay." "I have an accountant of my own, just out of public college. Tosha is my sister and has been working in a tiny office. I figured she can run back and forth until she gets set up over there in your expanding office. She'll have to move to someplace close, but that ought to make things easier on her, most of the time. I might add an assistant for her for running around, too. It's a pleasure doing business with you, Joe. Who knows where this will lead under your CPA license." Where was I going to station this woman? I supposed we could put a computer and desk in the other empty bedroom. Soon the whole house would be like an office. So far I'd been taking up the bigger station and a desk beside that to do my work, having the others sit along the wall at the workstations there. Thank god for the good air conditioning in the big former bedroom. If the computer guy had thought of a second room earlier, we'd already be set up with extra outlets. So, I mentioned that. "Excellent idea, Joe. I'll send him right over." "We're going to need a parking lot." And that house that was for sale next door. "Good catch. Don't worry. I have a fix. Did you mention that the house next door is for sale?" Had she been reading my mind? "Uh, yes." "Good. You should arrange a bid. We'll work on that, later. Obviously this one is set up as a business. Good thing your master bedroom is huge. I'll have Tosha look into things when she arrives. She's also bringing some contracts." Bringing contracts? I suppose my face kind of froze and maybe turned pasty. Again she read my mind. "To establish the business relationship. Obviously I have an investment. You weren't planning on cheating me out of our partnership, were you Joe? God, Joe, I've done almost everything." Well, actually she'd made lots of the arrangements and called in all the contractors, but I was the CPA and had the accounts, and it was my house. Also I'd actually paid for everything out of my resources, even if they were at discount. My bank account was already half what it had been, though the investment was outstanding. If things kept up I'd be passing seven figures of revenues in months. Alright, fair was fair, up to something reasonable. Ten percent and her accounting for free might do it. Then let's see her ruin me. No way would she want to blemish the head of a company she made ten percent off. That could be huge money. I smiled and nodded. "Good. The contractors and Tosha will be there tomorrow morning." "About the chastity thing, I--" "You're going to be way too busy to be playing with yourself tonight, Joe, what with Tosha and the contractor, and who knows when Debbie Dumbass is likely to be banging on your door. Any second, is my guess." Debbie has a Last name? On the heels of that thought, the doorbell rang. "See what I mean. Catch you later, Sissybitch." The screen went blank. Then, a second later the screen wallpaper changed to a shimmering gif picture of Mistress Linda wagging a finger at me from all the accounting computers in the room. Shit! She was into all my computers and files, now. Before it'd only been my personal computer, which, incidentally, the computer guy had taken along with the other one, after saying he'd wiped them clean. Was this another disaster? I went to the door, propelled by weak knees and the continual pain in my groin from where the chastity device's penis tube was probing my bladder like that wagging finger on the screens. "I had an issue with my wife and, uh, well, Linda suggested...." I stepped aside so Mr. Debbie could walk in with his/her suitcase. There was a bra strap hanging out, suggesting he/she'd packed in haste and maybe had help from his wife in the selection of things she wanted out of their house forever. He was wearing lady's flats. Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Five. Finally, all the workers cleared the premises. I told my accountants to go get something to eat and maybe catch a movie. It'd been a long day, and I needed some space. Tosha had spent the day fiddling with her new office furniture, stuffing the drawers and filling up the closet. Apparently the entire bedroom was now her office. The girl looked wet behind the ears, maybe days out of college with her business degree in accounting. Apparently she was going for her CPA license online, though. Not that she wasn't attractive, though fifty pounds overweight and with that short haircut black women sometimes preferred instead of having to do so much to make it manageable. While I was hanging up the phone in the living room, she came out and started screw her nameplate on the bedroom, now office, door: Mrs. Tosha Brown, CFO, Joe Anderson Accounting Inc.. "Whew, nametags and everything," I said. CFO? Really? How cute. Should I put one up on the big office door, saying CEO? She smiled over a shoulder. "I still feel out of place. You'll need to fill me in on everything, Joe." "Sure." Maybe this was a good time to mention: "I was thinking that we might need an expansion. The two-room office seems kind of tight." "I do need the third bedroom to stay in, just until I can deal with the other house idea." My room? Both me and Debbie were sleeping there already. In fact, that was a crowd and another reason why I'd brought up expansion. It's come to seem like camping in that room. My house wasn't really my house anymore. "Oh, uh...." "We'll work something out in a week or two." Then, the very next day, Tosha had the papers for the purchase of the house next door on my desk. It seemed like a fair price, but that did it for most of my account, and I had to take a loan. She had a lawyer who could close fast, since the loan was under fifty percent of the purchase and the place was empty, so everything was looking up. I might have been nearly broke, and a little in debt, but I had big-time assets. A couple weeks later, everything was swimming along as normal, though constant work. I didn't mind constant work, given we were making something huge. I was, on the other hand, constantly horny, and once or twice considered hitting Linda up for some femdom, but knew that for the trap it was and kept it to business, other than some occasional tease. Tease was easy, given my state, but even Linda seemed to hold back. That was good. It meant we were doing business together, and like I'd mentioned, it meant there was no incentive to ruin me, which was where I thought we'd been headed, for sure. Whew, what a relief, as long as I kept it together and played the game, sooner or later things had to find a new normal, and with profits for yours truly, this time. One Thursday, Tosha finished up for the day. All the other men were gone. She came into my office and said, "I've worked the incorporation up with our lawyer. We need to chat with my sister. Linda wants to teleconference." She grabbed some files and led me into the main office, taking a chair by one of the workstations. I took the one next to hers, feeling a little sheepish. She checked her watch. All the screens flipped on to a Teamviewer screen. The window blued then expanded into a view of Linda's bedroom. She stepped into the picture, showing her midsection before sitting down. "Oh look. Everyone's together." "Hi, Sis." "Hi." I kept it simple. "Contract time, Joe," Linda said in a sing-song voice. "Regarding what, exactly?" I had to ask and get it from her lips. "Employment, for one. There are all kinds of new employees, haven't you noticed. Then there are all the assets bursting the walls to your house until we can move into the other one next door. You're an accountant. You know we have to be above board. Taxes, healthcare, incorporation. Tosha's the expert, so just work with her, why don'tcha!" Tosha scooted the keyboard up and plopped a stapled stack of papers in front of me, right on queue. "We'll need a couple of company cars, since I'll be driving to the clients. I found a couple used. Also, insurance for them." The first was the insurance forms, which I signed. Then she put a title in front of me and flipped it over, already filled out except for the signature. I picked it up and looked on the other side. "Wait a minute. That's my car." "It's convenient" Linda said. "What, I should be looking for cars all over a new town?" "But, I'm selling my car to my own company." "Which means," Tosha said, "other than taxes, there's no need to make out a check. It's the same as incorporation." "Why pay the taxes?" "Because it needs to be a company car and not me borrowing it all the time. We're putting the company name on the door." What an amateur move. It really made no difference, other than the added taxes, which could be avoided. "Is she giving you trouble, Tosha?" Linda said. Her stern face glared at us from the screen. Apparently she'd zoomed in. "He's quibbling over a few hundred in taxes." Linda rolled her eyes. "I thought we wanted to legitimize a partnership, Joe. There's sure to be a cost." They were going to persist. What was the point? The sooner we were partners, the sooner it would be suicide for her to screw up my company. And with the added profits...: "Sorry. No problem. We were just hashing out the advantages and disadvantages," Give Tosha the benefit of the doubt, "like accountants tend to do." "Next, the business property, itself," Tosha announced. She pushed another stack of papers onto the desk. My house address was on the first sheet. "The house? I didn't plan on making the house into part of the business." "But it is, Joe," Linda said. "In fact, all the purchases, lately, have been rolled into a second mortgage, so the equity's all used up anyway." "Really?" "You'd be amazed what you can do electronically, if you have all the information," Linda said. "I thought it was coming out of my bank account." In fact, I knew even my retirement account was down to nearly the same as what I owed on the second house. When it came to liquid assets, meeting Linda had become a nightmare. I had everything in the business, it seemed. "There are business investments still en route, relative to those outlays. The second mortgage was what paid for the computers, electrical upgrades, furniture and building supplies yet to be delivered. Need I go on?" Tosha supported her sister's claim by saying practically into my ear, "That means no equity, so giving the houses to the firm breaks even for you. Then we can work on that expansion you mentioned before. Seems like you're being crowded out, you've obviously noticed. Or, do you plan on sleeping in the basement?" Houses? As in both houses? Fuck! This just seemed so out of control. But, what choice did I have. If I was already underwater with the new house paid in cash and this one under a bit because of it and the firm.... I hesitated with the pen. Time ticked by. Patience didn't really seem in my favor. I swiped my signature on the top form. "And here, and here." Tosha kept flipping the pages. I knew from several of these, with one client and my own purchase, that signing over one house then the other, both were about fifteen different forms. "These are to wave the loan insurance." Required by the government; I knew. I looked at a couple more, as she explained each in cryptic terms, but we were pen-whipping them in the end. She was at least a good-enough accountant to do a couple simple house transfers. Like most things, the fifteen signatures and two- dozen initials turned into thirty signature and still two-dozen initials. "My hand is getting a cramp." "That's not the only thing, I hear." Tosha smirked. I sighed. "Funny." "My sister says she once had you by the balls." She winked from beside my shoulder. "Might as well make light of it, now that we're moving on." I swallowed hard and decided not to go there with her on that. After all, we needed to stay professional, for the business's sake, at least. "We'll need someone to verify," I said, a CPA to the end. "I mean, other than us, since we're principals." "Got it covered, Joe," Tosha said while stuffing the papers into a folder. "There's a real-estate lawyer on the hook." On the hook? Shoot, Joe, quit. Not everything a person says is kinky. Papers came then that I'd not considered. I'd never incorporated before, but knew the legal advantages. "Change of record for the phone service." Signed. "Computer contract." Signed. "Electric, water, gas, home insurance." "I meant it when I said my hand was about to fall off." About then Debbie... Dumbass, "Ha." came in the front door from his trip to his lawyer's place, where he had basically given everything to his now ex-wife. Tosha went to the hall door and yelled, "Just a minute, we're finishing up!" She added, more sternly, but in a quieter voice, "Go to your room." God, Linda had him so cowed that he went right into the far bedroom and quietly closed the door for her sister. No wonder we were getting his services for only twice minimum wages. The man had to have been born a submissive loser from day one. I went as far as to say, "Well, that was convenient." "Yes, now we can finish," Tosha said, coming back to her seat beside me. Linda asked from the screen, "Have you finished the article of incorporation yet, Tosha?" "Next." She whipped it out. "I'll need to read this carefully." "Does it matter?" Tosha asked. "Well, of course it matters." Linda leaned into the screen and said, "We're giving you a majority position in a company worth three times what it was last month, Joe. It doesn't matter. Just sign. I don't have all night. You've been arguing over everything, and I'm at the end of my patience." "Well, uh--" "Or, we can go back to what we were doing, and not even get involved with this business," Linda said. Her face looked angry. "I was doing just fine with flowers. Your company makes nice money, but if it's more trouble than--" Shit! "Look, I'm sorry!" my lips blabbed. What we had been doing was raping my accounts and threatening to expose me, ruining my whole business. This was my chance. If she backed out, I was in a mess. In fact, I didn't even own my own house anymore. Even the one next door was incorporated. Tosha sighed, having put in a long day, too. She pushed the paper an inch, suggesting I needed to get it over with. The top form was a simple incorporation document header. There was my name, Joe Anderson Accounting. On the next page, it started with a corporate statement that Tosha had probably written in my name. It started with this line: As the biggest stakeholder in my own firm, Joe Anderson Accounting, it is my intent to incorporate, blah, blah, blah. So far so good. Apparently they weren't cheating me, after all. I initialed the page without tempting them worse and reading the many pages of fine print. She flipped the page. A majority position, she'd said, so that'd be at least half. I glared at the bottom line, and grit my teeth, taking a leap of faith. Signature. Page. Signature. Page. Signature. God, how many pages are there? Ten signatures later, Tosha opened it to a page showing stakeholder positions. Shit, it was not what I'd expected. Apparently there was to be 10,000 shares, tentatively face valued at thirty dollars per share. Three stakeholders were listed. I had 4800, Linda 3500 and Tosha the last 1700. That woman had managed to rob me, yet. And, Tosha, still wet behind her ears, had a stake a third as big as my own, nearly on her first month of work. Oh well, at least I owned almost half the firm. Since we were making considerably more money, that wasn't a complete disaster. In fact, doing some math in my head, I was likely to make twice what I was, even as it sat. If the company grew.... I took a breath of air, realizing it was over. The Teamviewer fucking was done. We were a company and they'd not sold me down the river. Maybe, even, Linda would see it clear to let me take off the horrible chastity fucking- my-peehole device. I would mention it later. "As you can see, your position is sound," Tosha said. She put the wad into the same folder. She stuffed that into her laptop briefcase and fidgeting a foot more firmly into her shoe. "Now I've got to run and get back to my apartment, which is a mess because of moving. It's already dark. I plan on taking tomorrow off to deal with all this." It was Thursday. "Just call it Monday, Joe. Maybe I can move some of my things in the room when this month's lease on my temporary apartment is up." She stood. "The room?" She nodded toward my bedroom; the only bedroom left in the house. "Temporary, until we can buy something. Maybe even, that house next door will be moved out of...." Shoot. I'd wanted to live in that one alone. If she thought she was going to smooze in on that.... My dumbfounded look maybe inspired her to say, "What do you expect me to do? Sleep in the basement?" "We'll work out something comfortable. Go on, Tosha. I don't want you falling asleep on the road." She laughed. "Take the company car. It's a step up and more comfortable." Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Six. Tosha had taken my car, and the next morning I looked out the window to discover hers was gone, too. That only left me with Debbie's beaten up van. Debbie had errands, mostly related to an e-mail he got regarding the courts accepting his quick, non-contested dissolution. "I have some things in a shed," he mentioned lamely, as if it wasn't more than a few heirlooms. From what I heard, his wife had him completely over a barrel and had gotten the works. He was giving her what was left of his retirement savings instead of alimony, as if that was a windfall for him, given he'd fucked up by doing internet mistresses. "They've taken a hit lately. In fact, I'm in debt, even though I don't own anything;" he didn't elaborate. While me and the two drones worked a ten hour Friday, I sent an e- mail off to Tosha, asking about the transportation. I was considering going shopping for some things for the new house. Apparently the clones were down to sharing a twenty-year-old Honda and having trouble making rent on a one-bedroom efficiency apartment. At least they ate at work, though my refrigerator was starting to look like it did before a defrost. Tosha responded faster than I?d hoped for, saying she?d had a friend pick her car up for her, since there was no way she could drive two of them anyway, and it was a junker (actually, I thought it looked small, but fairly new). What did it mean that she?d taken a liking to my car? Then again, she had spoken about doing most of the meet-and- greet work with the clients, so maybe she planned on doing that right away on Monday, without me this time. Maybe she planned on catching one of them on the way in. Yeah, that explained it. But then again, it didn?t keep me from feeling grounded. I was dying to get out, even if I had to wear lingerie underneath. Fast food sounded good, but she?d promised to bring a bag of dry rice and some vegetables?yeck. Later, the drones left after another twelve hour day. ?Joe, dear?? the computer speakers said to me while I was trying to make order out of the bedroom with all of Debbie?s boxes. It seemed like he/she had more female undergarments than clothing, and I noticed only one change of male outerwear. We never mentioned it, like the elephant in the room. ?Oh, Jooooooeee!? rang out again. I ran over to the computers. Finally, a moment alone with her. We needed a talk. ?I hear you are interested in a wank.? ?Yes, Mistress Linda,? I said with a smile to make sure the mood stayed light like it had been since we?d gone into business together. ?Tuesday, then.? The screen went blank. What was it with women and scheduling sex? Didn?t they know that men were like, Blue balls! Now? ### Tuesday was just another day of pounding the keys. Mistress Linda?s flower service came online, and it was a bit startling in scale. Apparently she was more of a holding company. The flower business had a presence in five cities and over thirty employees. That one was incorporated, just like I?d just done with my accounting business. She also had a delivery and a catering service. After sorting through that, she dumped a rolling maid service on me. They did over a hundred houses a day, and were a cash cow. Stemming from that was a business in auto repair, and I immediately saw connections between that and the maid service?s fleet of Honda Fits. I started to wonder about all the video I?d seen of her making flower arrangements. The lady had to be clearing millions per year. Why?d she even bother with the common work, or even the mistress stuff? We were going to need another employee because we were already doing six day weeks, twelve hours a day. In the short time we?d had her onboard, I?d come to rely upon Tosha to do all the customer contacts and oversight of employee data for my accounting firm, so she was outside of the day-to-day grind of keeping the customer?s accounts in line. Also, she kept hounding me about needing the bedroom, but then suddenly stopped doing that, saying she?d found a new place to stay, coming Wednesday. So, with some surprise, she came in before first light on Tuesday. I noticed she was back to driving her own car. Where mine was remained a mystery. Before I could ask, she proclaimed that workers were on the way to do a few, ?fixes to the place.? ?Really? Oh, and incidentally, I need to use the company car today.? Maybe she?d tell me where it was or have someone drive it over. ?We?re out of everything in the refrigerator again, other than mustard.? ?Got it handled, Joe. That?s all part of the renovations.? She made a quick call then announced, ?Marcus is bringing McMuffins.? ?Marcus?? ?Yeah. He?s a confidant of Linda?s. I just... hired him to do the heavy lifting for us.? ?Shouldn?t we discuss this kind of thing? I really need another accountant, and another office space, at the moment.? ?Well, we?re doing reconstruction, today. Why would we need an accountant for that?? ?You said you hired him.? ?God, Joe. We?re not thinking small, here. It?s one guy.? At that precise moment, Amy and Betty showed an hour late. ?We got kicked out of our apartment,? they announced. ?Failure to pay.? I glanced out at their tiny car and the back was loaded with stuff. The sad part about that was how little it seemed. ?Oh my god. We should make an advance. I?m sorry. You should have mentioned something before the end-of-month.? ?You two can stay here,? Tosha said, taking over the conversation. ?Well, now?? ?Part of the renovations. There are two company houses, now. New house, new work arrangements. Trust me. We have it covered, Joe.? ?Don?t I get a say in anything?? That?s when Marcus showed with a puny bag of McMuffins, four to be exact. He was a huge black man of about fifty. When he saw us, he smiled and offered his hand and said, ?Marcus. Glad doing business with you.? I shook it, feeling like my hand might end up crushed. He kept smiling, though, maybe noticing the lines of my bra under my white shirt. Mistress Linda had left an e-mail, being most insistent that I only wear a plain white shirt and the big white bra with granny panties. Every few days she was like that, sending e-mails making sure I kept shaved all over and insisting upon photos of my lingerie drawer to see if I kept things neatly folded. Not with the fake B boob inserts today though, so I?d imagined it not glaringly obvious. Fat chance. He said, ?This place is in transition, I see,? like he?d been to a few businesses and knew the difference between one or the other. Not likely. The dude didn?t exude rocket scientist. Or maybe he?d meant the other kind of transition, the thought of which made me blush. Workers banged into the door. It was getting crowded in the living room. ?This is a good time for everyone to use the potty and get to work so these guys can have the rest of the house,? Tosha said to us all. ?You heard the boss lady.? Marcus smiled even bigger and patted a paw on Tosha?s back, like she was a relative. Shoot! She?s a relative! The two literally hustled us into motion. The last thing I saw before entering the work room was Tosha nailing a plate on the workroom door that read, Employees Only. That didn?t keep Marcus from coming in, push in a brand-new glider rocker and take a seat by the door. He plopped his feet up on the corner of Amy?s desk, and started playing on an I-pad. Christ, it looked like he was guarding the door, for crying out loud. He?s just getting out of the way like we are. I had to tell myself. Otherwise, his presence blocking the door was intimidating and made me feel like a grounded child. Outside the door, people were banging, items were being rolled across the floor, and soon I even heard workers under our feet, messing around in the basement. Once someone banged something down there so hard that a wall shook. ?Save things every few minutes,? I said. ?If they keep this up, the electric is going to go.? Marcus laughed. He mumbled with a chuckle, ?The electric is gonna go, huh!? He seemed likeable, but also a third wheel. ?If everyone isn?t at a good place to stop, I suggest you get there, sissies,? Linda?s voice came over the speakers, startling even Marcus. I felt my heart jump into my throat. She?d not done that with everyone present, before, though I?d realized we?d all probably been caught by her same trap, long ago. Everyone?s screen still showed accounting data. ?Hurry now, don?t doddle saving your work. I?m not interested in interrupting anyone mid-calculation. Two minutes.? Then what? Maybe she wanted a company meeting; I mean, other than just among the stockholders. I decided to breathe, and found the last line in my work, closing a spreadsheet I?d been making for the delivery service. ?There now.? All of our screens turned blue. The ones in front of each person turned to camera shots of Mistress Linda in jeans, but with a top with a low front, showing her incredible cleavage. I realized that while all the camera shots were mostly from the front, they were at slightly different angles. She had four cameras, it seemed, no amateur setup to be certain. Company meeting, my ass. ?By now you must at least suspect how we all came to be in one place. That?s right, Teamviewer. Well, those mistakes for you are the past; we?re moving on. All my white accountant sissies together, for example.? She smiled and touched a breast. ?I believe I?ve actually done you more than one favor and created one happy family. Isn?t this a perfect little hobble of sissyness? I?m so proud of my work. Your piddling little individual efforts have now become something larger and meaningful. Not everything is destructive, gurls. I consider myself a smart business person, bringing preferred lifestyle and prosperity to an expanding number of people, so that we might all be fulfilled.? We were dumbfounded. All of us, I could tell by the drool. ?Smiles, sissies. I want some nods of thanks, at least.? Shit. We all had to do that, and while Marcus was over in front of the door, having put down his I-pad and with a grin that now looked very sinister... maybe by accident. We were, of course, a bit ridiculous. He crossed his arms, showing bulging muscles. Even at fifty, I was betting he could clout us all. Outside of our room, electric saws were whining and hammers nailing. People, seeming like a herd, kept banging through the hallway. Whatever they were doing was massive. There had to be ten men out there wailing into the walls and moving stuff in my house. I decided to smile and say, ?Welcome, Mistress Linda.? I mean, why not; she was right. At least two of us would have been unemployed without her, and my shares in the business ensured I?d make millions and retire in fire years, tops. Of course, getting out of this tiny room would help immensely, and from the sound of the labor outside, soon. ?We appreciate your efforts.? ?You are so welcome, Joe. Now, everyone back to work. I can hear that things are kind of hectic, so I promise not to bother you too much and just ring Marcus when I want something done.? The screens returned to our accounting wallpaper. Then, just as suddenly she returned. ?I forgot. If all goes well, everyone gets a little wanking time today. I promised. In fact, I?ve noticed my own neglect. So, if everything goes smoothly, I?ll make it a point to not let you gurls go so long without a release. They say every day or two is actually healthy.? Nobody spoke. ?Oh, come on.? She chuckled like she meant to enliven the tension. ?Can?t you at least say, ?Thank you, Mistress Linda??? We all did that, almost instinctively, and were only embarrassed to tears about it afterwards because of how we?d been made to say it collectively and in front of Marcus. I couldn?t even look his direction, it was so mortifying. We returned to work. I couldn?t even bring myself to tell one of the others to run a new batch of numbers for the appliance repair service I?d just gotten in, doing them myself. For the moment, just keeping shut and working seemed the best way to get the color back in my face. Twenty minutes later Marcus?s phone rang. He?d only quit humming, ?I?m a Little Teapot,? a minute prior, rubbing in the joke. ?Yes. Are you sure? Alright. No, no, I don?t mind.? Marcus put his big hand over the phone and said to Amy. ?Linda wants you to take off your top. She says you look too hot and might overheat.? Amy put a finger to her chest and mouthed, ?Who? Me?? ?Just the top. It?s her idea. I?ll look the other way, if you want.? Well, at least Marcus was being a gentleman about it, Amy might have been thinking. Amy had been wearing a thick cotton white shirt. While still a regular dress shirt, we?d all opted for the thickest we could find to mostly hide the bra straps. She/he started unbuttoning it, looking sheepish with each manipulation of the fingers. Finally, at the end, Amy un-tucked the shirt and slipped it off his/her arms, leaving only the bra on top. Shoot, it was almost the same big, white, three-hook Playtex housewife model I had on. Better her/him, than me. Maybe Mistress Linda had a different deal with Amy than the rest of us. I felt sorry for her, nonetheless, and refused to comment about it, going back to my work as if nothing had just happened. ?I?m sorry,? Amy said to the rest of us, eventually. Marcus remained by the door. Wait a minute? Why, exactly is he here? Oh, that?s right, as a gopher. And he was just in here to be out of the way, today, where everyone worked. I had to keep explaining that to myself because his presence just felt so weird, coupled with the femdom deal that sat under the rug, so to speak. I felt sure a chat with Linda about his presence was waited for a time when he wasn?t in here. Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Seven. Marcus?s I-pad made a new chirping sound, and he punched up an e- mail. ?Apparently she?s paying attention through some kind of camera, boys.? He looked up into the corners of the room, finally spotting one over his head by the door. He chuckled. ?Sorry, but she wants someone named Betty to take off her top.? He shrugged. ?Just pretend like I?m not here. I know how she is. It don?t mean nothing.? Betty glanced from me to Marcus and back. ?What should I do?? ?If you ask me,? Marcus said, ?I?d do what she wants. It?s just a shirt, and it is getting hot in here, anyways.? Marcus, maybe out of sympathy, took off his own shirt, leaving a sleeveless wife-beater t- shirt on. He had a stomach, but was mostly meat. Likely he?d worked out through much of his life and might have been a linebacker or something similar. Betty took off his/her shirt and folded it neatly, laying it on a work table behind the three workstation desks at which we other three sat. Apparently Linda had asked us all to wear the big white bra variation instead of something Victoria Secret. Ten minutes later Debbie was topless other than bra and back to work. ?Who?s SissyMaid?? Marcus said after a third e-mail. Fuck! Marcus noticed the expression and wiggled his finger with a little spin then pointed to my shirt. He had a bit of a smirk. Everyone had stopped working, and was looking at me, the boss, being told, third hand, by an e-mail Mistress to expose his bra. I felt dizzy and hyperventilating while I unbuttoned my shirt and exposed the bra that everyone had to have known was coming. We?d all come dressed in the plain housewife, triple-hook variety. I sat back down and kept working, though my head was abuzz with embarrassment. We were four sissy gurls, pecking away like bimbo-slut secretaries, sitting with only bras for shirts. I was almost glad Linda had had me effectively on a diet the past few weeks because I had almost no gut left, allowing me to at least not look as dumpy as Betty still did. The other two were thin as rails, oddly so, like they?d been on diets a while. If you?re going to make a fool out of yourself, you?d just as soon not do it along every possible dimension. ?I hope nobody tries to come in here,? I said to everyone. All five of us chuckled, though four of us nervously. ?I knew I had a reason for hiring on, here.? Marcus smiled. ?Protector of the pussy realm from the working stiffs.? ?Our savior,? Debbie joked. We all laughed at ourselves and what he/she?d said. His e-mail chirped. ?She says to quit with the humor, and get to work. I?d do it if I were you. I think she?s having one of those... you know... days.? We all sobered up. Accounting took place for another hour. Chirp! ?She?s feeling frisky. Pants.? ?What?? Betty asked. Debbie felt the need to apologize for god knows what reason. ?I?m sorry.? ?I?m sorry, too, gurls. Off with the pants, the lady says. She?s our boss,? He said like he was being asked to pants himself, too. He put down his I-pad. ?What if someone comes in?? Debbie asked. Marcus cupped his mouth and whispered, ?I think she means to have me open the door and yell for company, if you?re not cooperative. I know how she thinks.? I closed my eyes and took a breath. Alright, everyone here was in the same fix. Was it really worse than sitting around in bras? I pushed back my chair and unbuckled my pants. When I opened my eyes I found the others doing the same, like they meant to follow the boss?s lead. Pants fell to the floor. I folded mine and put them on the spare table alongside my shirt, which I knew to be Linda?s way of doing things. Everything had to be neat. ?Shoes.? We added those to the table without a fuss. Everyone was in sheer, white knee-highs and white granny panties. Today?s color code: white and large. Obviously Mistress Linda had pre-arranged our coordinated underwear show. Believe it or not, I resumed work with a growing erection in the chastity device. The good thing was it was hard to tell because the chastity made the same embarrassing ribbed shape, regardless. Maybe I was shrinking due to the continual pressure? At least she?d promised to have that removed by the end of the day. I determined to not mess that up. If Marcus had to watch our ugly butts, it was his problem. I knew I wasn?t getting a thrill out of the sight of Betty, Amy and Debbie, so why should he? Alright, I was a little. While in the midst of creating a debts unpaid ledger in the program, I heard the door open and watched Marcus step out with all our clothing. ?Shit!? Betty said. She was the smallest of us all, and seemed to be cowering in the corner workstation. All the screens flipped to Mistress Linda?s face. ?Who spoke in that unladylike fashion?? We all sobered a lot, eyes twitching side to side. I had no idea what worse thing she could do to us, but we were not in a position to haggle. ?Sorry, Mistress Linda,? Betty said. ?Apology accepted, but I want no more attitude from you, bitch. Stoic work faces for the rest of the day, slaves. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, SISSIES? This is a business, not a brothel. I want some serious slave labor from each of you. If as much as the corner of a mouth twitches...!? ?Yes, Mistress Linda,? we all said together, telling me that we?d all had the exact same conditioning. ?Now, Betty, until I tell you otherwise, put your fuck finger in your mouth and do your work with one hand.? ?Mistress?? ?I suggest the left one.? ?Yes, Mistress Linda.? Betty put her left middle finger in her mouth. ?Knuckle deep, sissy!? He did. ?In and out a little.? Betty started fucking her face with her fuck finger. It was awful, so I looked at the screen instead. ?You all know that if you are good little sissies, you will get a reward, today. Just so we?re all on the same page.? ?Yes, Mistress Linda.? This was not what I?d imagined when she?d mentioned a wank with the device off. Marcus came back, did a double take at Betty and laughed. Nobody joined him in his levity because it had been forbidden to laugh or even smile to save face. He noticed that and shrugged. The man took a seat. After a moment he said, ?Your shoes were smelly,? seemingly explaining why he?d confiscated our clothing. If Tosha walked in here I?d never be able to have a meaningful conversation with her again. This was no way for fellow professionals to oversee the staff. Marcus looked at his I-pad. Apparently a message had come in out of the blue. ?Betty, if you don?t do what Linda said to do, deeper, really bad things are apt to happen.? After another pause, he added, ?I?m just saying,? like he wasn?t fifty pounds of muscle bigger than us and guarding the door. Betty started moving her fuck finger a little more, while trying to concentrate on pecking his/her keyboard with a finger on the other hand. Her work was down to less than half speed. ?Panties down. Leave them around the ankles, gurls,? said the main computer speaker. Right on the heels of that, Marcus reached into his bag and pulled out a key ring. ?I know what she?s up to, now. It?s your lucky day, gurls.? I felt like an idiot when I lowered my granny panties to my ankles. The chastity device clinked on the chair when I regained my seat. The seat felt unusually cool on my naked backside. Marcus said, ?She says to keep them like that, so you?ll know your sissy meat is safe in the little jails.? ### Betty got to quit the sucking thing after an hour. Then it was sheer work. The more I focused on my work the less I had to think. Thinking was not good. We might have done two day?s work by an hour after noon. Someone knocked on the door. ?Don?t worry. I?ll get it.? Marcus left again. He came back with Wendy?s salads topped with nuts, apple slices and a spattering of chicken. We had to share one package of dressing. The way my stomach was in a knot, the starvation diet was fine with me. About the time we finished eating next to nothing, work on the outside grew quite. ?Everyone?s gone to lunch. Potty break, if anyone?s interested.? We ventured out, one by one, using the bathroom. The floor was littered with tools and boards. The place was a disaster. I glanced into my new bedroom and noticed it clear of everything. They?d put a coating of pinkish paint on the walls, which was the same in the other bedroom, only the start of four more workstations was materializing along opposing walls and Tosha?s desk was gone. Out in the naked living room, the front door was gone and a large bedroom extension being added to the front of the house in its place. It might have been an efficiency apartment because plumbing was going in. They were parking a new front door on the other side of that, so we?d have to go through there to exit. The kitchen/dining area was being remodeled into a single space with new appliances and a new dining table with footpad rail all around it, like some kind of bar that might seat ten people all around it. The chairs were missing, as was everything else. I didn?t see a single thing of mine anywhere in the house. Apparently they?d boxed it up and moved it outside to make the work go faster. Where would we sleep? I did my potty break and cowered back into the room with more questions in my head than prior. ### During the afternoon, a nurse showed up. She was dark, short and old and ugly, and I got the impression, nearly unemployable. Still, she took us into the bathroom, one by one and did our vitals. We bent over and let her probe our butts and testicles, which I suspect she found amusing. . Part of the exam was a blood draw, six tubes worth, almost to the point where I got dizzy. I had to stand in the tub so she could take profile, front and back photos of me, god only knows why. She did the same with my face, being very precise, like one of those plastic surgeons had given her training in it. Last but not least, she had an app on her I-pad for taking my finger prints. ?We?re doing background checks on all the employees,? she mentioned before swatting me on the ass and sending me back across the hall. We finished the exams in the nick of time. The workers returned from a long lunch and the banging picked up. The door stayed closed until dark. ### We had to sleep on blankets and pillows in the small pink bedroom because everything was still in disarray that night. At least in the bedrooms the primer paint was dry and some new carpet laid. They were mostly done inlaying ceiling lights. Electrical work in the wall suggested this might be a third office. We had another salad. When I checked in the kitchen, the electric for the empty refrigerator wasn?t even on. There were no working lamps other than one studio light and a cot in the living room. Marcus said, ?The door?s a piece of plywood. I?ll keeping guard out here.? We showered in the dark and put the same bras, panties and stockings on. I woke up dog tired in the middle of the night, surrounded by sleeping sissies. ?Jesus, what?s going on?? My world seemed to have narrowed to nothing but a blanket and a computer. More of the same the next day. Marcus was playing video games on his I-pad by the door, as the workers returned. Mistress Linda came onto all the screens. ?Morning sissies.? ?Mistress Linda, what?s going on?? I chanced. ?Temporary inconvenience, SissyMaid. Everything will just go faster if you stay out of the way. It won?t be long and we?ll have you all sorted out.? Marcus spoke up. ?I said as much.? He smirked at me, the boss. What kind of example was Linda setting? ?Things will come to the new normal by the end of the day,? said Linda, ?they assured me.? ?It?s pretty intolerable over here,? I said by means of bitching. She put down a flower pot. ?Oh, that?s right. I forgot it was wanking day.? Somehow, my face grew another shade of pale. ?Alright, panties around the ankles.? Oh God! What choice did we have? ?You know, I didn?t completely forget. Marcus, did you bring the keys?? ?Right here, Linda.? He?d been wearing a cheap chain necklace, pulling it out from under his shirt collar. Four tiny keys dangled off it. ?Well, hand them over so my slaves can get to their widdle clities.? Fuck, this was so wrong. We each took turns sorting through the keys and unlocking the locks. It was actually painful taking mine off. ?Oh my God. I ain?t never seen one of those before,? Marcus said when I cringed from pain while pulling the cage free, the tube down the middle of my shaft sliding out like I was being fucked in reverse by a nail. I pulsed my penis muscles, but I wasn?t sure the gaping hole in my dick, left by the removed urethra device, would close anytime soon. I could feel air blowing up it. I wondered if it?d burn when I peed. But, my dick was finally free. I don?t think I even cared that Marcus was gawking at us. After all, he didn?t gawk long, or else he?d have outed himself as gay or something. ?Now isn?t that better. Give those to Marcus, why don?t you. He can decide if you need them back or not.? Huh? ?Now, on with the favorite loser pastime.? She laughed. ?You know, real men are out there bedding women, but not you sissies. You had a better idea on what to make love with, didn?t you. Reinvented your purpose.? ?Sorry, Mistress Linda,? Debbie said. ?Well, it?s okay Debbie. We?re all going with the flow. Why don?t you scoot your seat closer to SissyMaid and Betty. You can scoot right up next to Amy.? People were moving all over the room. ?There we go. I?m not here to judge.? Then what was she there for? ?And Marcus isn?t either.? What was he in here for? Oh, that?s right, guarding the door so some worker, altering my own house without even a comment from me, didn?t come in here and mortify us. Which didn?t seem possible, given how mortified we felt already. ?We?re all adults embarking upon a simple family business expansion. And you?re also kinky sluts, in need of attention, but we?ve found a way to work it in and not lose all sense of a business model, haven?t we gurls?? ?Yes Mistress Linda,? we all said like idiotic automatons. ?There?s money in all this, at least. Isn?t there, SissyMaid?? I nodded. ?Long as you focus.? ?Yes, Mistress Linda.? ?Now, we?re all ready for a wank. Who is the lucky gurl who gets to rub her little clitty first?? We all nodded like automatons. Lucky gurl? ?You first, Sissymaid Joe. Sit back a couple feet so we can better see the show.? I swallowed hard and scooted my chair back, being careful not to lose the panties around my ankles. ?Now, Debbie, you kneel in front of Joe and you other two losers scoot your chairs right up next to Sissymaid.? Everyone started to crowd me. I didn?t know what to do. ?Now, you two put your opposite hand onto Sissymaid?s thigh, and lean over so you can suck a nipple.? I don?t know if they?d done something like that before or not, but both gurls leaned over and did that to me. OH MY GOD, they?re sucking my tits. ?Now, Debbie, you have the hard part, I?m afraid. But, I don?t think she?ll last long, do you? Cup the sissy balls in one hand and start stroking the sissy?s clit with two fingers. No, no, just the finger and thumb. It?s only a clit; no need overdoing it. There we go. Good gurls.? Debbie had her hand under my nuts and was lifting them while her other hand applied pressure with only two contact points. The gurl?s face was red with shame. ?Not so fast. Slow down. Minimal pressure. We don?t want to pull the skin. Lick your fingers, Debbie, and give some lubrication. Gurls need lubrication.? Oh shit, now the fingers were wet and barely touching, making sliding motions. My nipples were hard. Tongues kept licking them, twirling and occasionally one of the other would suck in deeply. ?You finish for me, Marcus. I?ve other things to attend to. You know how it works, don?t you?? ?I can see to it, Linda, but it ain?t my cup of tea, I can tell you that.? ?It?s a job, Marcus. Beats digging ditches, doesn?t it?? He laughed. ?Not so fast, sissy,? he said to Debbie with a smile. Mistress Linda laughed too, and then she cut off. ?You heard her. You sissies got to do it right. Don?t suck so hard, Betty Boobs. Nibble with your teeth a second, Dolly. I?m improvising, like she expects; it ain?t personal.? Shoot, now a man was telling us what to do. Someone knocked on the door. Tosha?s voice came through: ?I?m knocking off for the day. I have a ton of things to do at the new house. They?ll be done and out of here by end today.? Marcus opened the door, and she was right there, looking at us. He asked, ?Are the workers done?? She smiled. ?They?ll be working till midnight, from what I?m seeing. But, they plan on finishing today. What the hell is going on in here?? ?Linda says they can wank today.? ?Oh, this is the part that always gets disgusting. I?m sorry I barged in.? ?Ain?t my favorite part of the job either, I can tell you that.? ?Better you than me, I suppose. Are they going to suck your cock, too?? Marcus laughed. ?They?re too ugly to suck my cock. White boys ain?t my favorite. Or at least not while they look like that. Maybe if they looked better.? She kissed him on the cheek and left. Marcus closed the door, and the cock that had shrunk between my legs tried to hide. ?A little more pressure. And lick your fingers, Debbie. Jesus, the clit is actually getting smaller. I didn?t think that was possible,? he said. After an agonizing ten minutes, I had to cum, no matter how embarrassing it was. Right then was the worst possible time for the phone to ring. Everyone stopped. Marcus shrugged. I picked it up. ?Anderson Accounting.? ?Hi, Joe. I?m in town and thought we could meet for lunch.? ?Jane?? I?d not heard from my ex-wife in a month. ?I?ve been thinking. I?m sorry about how I walked out on you. I just had so many things to sort out, but now I think we can give it another try. I?d love to talk to you about it, if you?re still interested.? ?It was my fault. I asked too much when I brought all that kinky stuff up. It was too much. It was ridiculous, in fact. I?m no end to embarrassed,? I said, which was all true. ?That?s part of what we should discuss. Everybody has fantasies. I?ve been stupidly selfish. I could maybe do some kinky things, once in a while, if you like. Maybe we can settle on once a month for that?? I looked around. Men were kneeling on either side of me and another between my legs. My tits were being sucked like I was a teenage girl. They were listening in. Marcus was smirking and poking comments into his i-pad. ?I?d love to stop by and talk,? Jane said. ?Well, uh, the house is different,? I said. ?What do you mean?? ?I?ve remodeled and made it into a business and am expanding. I?m down to one small bedroom and actually sharing that with one of my associates.? ?A woman?? ?No, a guy. One of the accountants.? ?You have been busy. Do you need a secretary or something? I?m kind of low on cash.? She was trying to weasel her way in, and I didn?t mind. I did want her back, in the worst way. Then again, I was sitting there with my panties around my ankles and three other sissies in the room. The only normally dressed person was Marcus, and that just made it feel weirder. Just then, Mistress Linda showed on all the computer screens, looking up at her computer camera, smiling and shaking her head, clearly enjoying my efforts to hold a reasonable conversation. Marcus waved his hand at me. I put my hand over the mouthpiece and asked, ?What?? Marcus pointed to his i-pad, where Linda had apparently typed something to him, and he whispered: ?Play harder with SissyMaid?s little clit, Debbie.? She fondling my balls rougher and yanked my dick harder back and forth with more of an up and down motion. The tongues and lips on my nipples sucked like I might give milk. ?Purse your lips. Look up at the sissy, Debbie? Marcus said. Debbie did that. It was like she was about to kiss my bulb. I groaned, a second from squirting. In the meantime, Jane was apologizing to me for leaving me in a lurch a few months back and saying how much she really did love me into my earpiece. Everyone was hearing that on speaker phone. I took my hand off the mouthpiece a moment to say, ?It?s alright. We?ll work something out.? Then I clamped my hand right back on the mouthpiece while Jane continued to show delight at the prospects of our reunion. ?Stop stroking. Get your hand off that white boy?s dick. It?s gonna shoot, if you?re not careful!? Shit, the hand left my penis, but the teeth were nibbling my nipples and I needed to cum real badly. I was breathing hard and my dick stood up in the air, wobbling like a drunken sailor. My ass lifted off the chair, trying to reach the hand that had left my cock. A tiny bit of pre-cum dribbled to the surface of the frustrated volcano. Go ahead and set up a meeting with Jane, Linda typed. Tell her tomorrow afternoon at the White Castle. What? Jane had been attracted to me in part because I was a decent bread earner. Would she even consider going to White Castle? If so, she?d truly fallen on hard times. Maybe it?d be a good test to find out how far? ?So, I?m going to be near a client near Greenlawn and High. What do you say we meet at the White Castle near there. I?ve come to love their milkshakes.? ?Ummm. Sure.? Tell her you need to confess. Tell her you?re a cross dresser, Linda typed. When I hesitated, she added, It?s best if you confess a little, or she?ll be seeing the whole deal and probably freak out, SissyMaid. Do it any way you like. I felt all the blood drain from my face. ?Maybe before we meet I should tell you something?? ?Sure. It?s best if we are open, I think. Secrets are not good.? ?I?m glad you think so. Alright, well the best way to do it is just to say... to say it. I?ve been meaning to say that I sometimes liked to try on panties.? ?Really? Well, I think I actually knew that, to be honest. It had a little to do with how I was feeling. Maybe if we incorporate that a little, we can compromise.? ?Uh, huh, well, it?s more than just panties. I have a whole dress-up thing I sometimes do. It?s probably a little much.? Silence. Linda typed: Tell her you have a secret cuckold fetish. I won?t ask you to add anything else. Shit, shit, shit. ?I also have a cuckold fetish. I just need to get it all out in the open. It?s not the kind of thing a person should hold back on, I think. Fetishes are weird, but they seemed to be in the way of us coming to terms, I think. If I just say the strange things in my head, maybe they will go away and we can be normal again.? If words could blush.... The two sissies beside me had been waved off by Marcus. He was smirking so big I could count all his teeth to the back pairs. ?Do you mean you liked the idea that I was having sex with someone else?? Yes. ?Well, in a way, yes. I didn?t like you leaving, and I didn?t like the secrecy and it felt like betrayal, let?s be honest.? ?I know. I?m sorry.? Oh, come on SissyMaid. Just say you like being cuckolded. Otherwise you?ll never see her again, and I?ll be sending her a dump of videos!!!! ?It?s alright. I?m being unfair. I get off on being cuckolded.? Fuck! I didn?t want to just leave it there, but what were my choices? While sitting at home, dressed like a sissy. ?Really? I?ll have to think about this.? You got to do better, SissyMaid! ?I sometimes thought about you being out with other men while I sat at home dressed up. There you go; you?ve heard the worst.? Well, actually no, she hadn?t, but maybe this extortion part of it would be over soon. I was making good money, now, in spite of handing huge chunks of it over to the Teamviewer mistake. The firm was taking off. Once the thing went big-time green I?d get back on my feet and set up in a new house maybe a hundred miles away. Shoot, in a year or two I might be able to even sell my shares in the company for ten million or so and move to someplace utterly remote, like Bolivia. Jane had been struck mute, so I said, ?We?ll talk about it when we meet.? ?Next Monday,? she said, changing the date a week later. Clearly I?d shaken her up or she?d have never put the meeting off. Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Eight. My chastity was being put back on by the other gurls, without me doing more than oozing a little. Every nerve in my body strained for release. I was bouncing in my seat, even before I hung up. Seems that playtime was over, though. Every bit of it had been so demeaning. We went back to work in panties and bras and gartered stockings. Outside the room the construction settled down. Good thing, too, because I was tired of pissing in the pee pot and having nothing but salads brought into the work room by Marcus. ?Linda wants to see to it that you gurls are surprised,? Marcus kept saying. My butt hurt from sitting in the chair in nothing but panties, bra and a garter. We were actually done with all the accounting work on the agenda, which had been quite a lot. New data came in nearly every hour, but the day?s work was over. If the company kept expanding like it was, we?d need twice the accountants in a week. For every accountant, the company was good for another quarter-million or more a year in profits. I could become a millionaire by year?s end if this kept up. Rocking the boat, under the current circumstances seemed stupid. Better to lull them a while then bolt. While I was in the midst of thinking all of that, Marcus turned his computer pad my direction, showing me a picture of my ex, topless. I?d had it buried in my computer files, last I?d seen of that photo. ?Is that the woman you divorced?? She?d always been a lovely woman. I had to confess, ?Yes.? ?Good looking bitch.? He rubbed his crotch. ?Um, thanks.? ?Almost as pretty as you.? He reached over and tweaked the pointy and empty nipple on my bra and laughed. Then he waved me off when I swallowed hard instead of laugh with him. ?Just kidding. I dig what you?re into. It could have been me...? He whispered, ?...a couple hundred years ago.? ### The house looked very different after emerging from our work room, that evening. The living room was gone, and along with it went the access to the kitchen, back door and of course the front door. Going right was impossible, unless one passed through a door that had the words, Marcus? Pad, No Entry, written over top. ?There?ve been some changes,? Marcus said. ?I?ve moved in, so I can be close and handy.? He smiled huge and patted me on the back. Shoot, it looked like he?d taken half the house. We three sissies just dumbly stood in the hallway, not sure what to do with two accounting rooms and Tosha?s office left, other than the bathroom. ?Awhhh, don?t look so forlorn. It?s all part of Linda?s plan.? ?What about the business? I thought we needed a reception area and someone to man the phones?? I mentioned. ?Oh, that?s over this way. Linda had a modular brought in.? He opened up the far door to what had once been the hall closet. There was a second steel door to the side. Straight, and after four feet of open hall space, was a regular wooden door. He produced a key and unlocked the normal door, opening it up so we could all see a whole new space with customer seating and a reception desk and even a couple side offices. Things were still in disarray, and the walls striped with wallpaper tape, but it looked nearly finished. The place had a nice bay window, and I imagined that from the front of the house it blended in. That customer and office area was completely isolated from our digs, and the steel door off to the side appeared ominous. Looking through the new front office and out the window, I saw the beginnings of a new parking area, large enough for four or five customers. It was an accounting business. Customers visited about once a year, so the need for parking space was not large. Four or five would be huge for us. Marcus closed the door like he meant to never open it again in our presence. He shuffled us back into the main hallway and locked the little foyer door behind him. Did I even own a single key to any of the doors in my own house? That left the other bedroom that still had the label, Mrs. Tosha Brown, CFO, Joe Anderson Accounting Inc. over it. That door was shut and locked when I tried the knob. ?They pushed the wall out on that room, too, and gave her a door to the expansion, so Mrs. Brown won?t be in here bothering the workers all that much. She will mostly run the office and greet the customers,? Marcus explained. ?The workers?? ?You know, the people who bring in the moola! No need for upper management to fool around and get in the way of you folks.? He bowed to us like a gentleman and opened the last bedroom door. In there were four more desks with soft, adjustable, blue office chairs. For more such chairs were still in the boxes. ?You three get new chairs for your office, too,? Marcus added. A second room of accountants? Just like us? Who? I knew nothing about this, though the work was big enough to need them. Were we taking on more accounts, or sharing? This, of course, brought up the question from Jane: ?Where do we sleep?? Marcus? eyes lit up and he smiled again. ?That?s the big surprise. You sissies are going to love the new basement luxury suite. It has been fixed up, and has everything you have ever dreamed about.? He used the same key as the other rooms and unlocked the basement steel door. Why is there a lock on the basement door? ?I?ll take you down, one at a time and get you set up. Miss Linda wants your first look at your new digs to be a surprise, and she says she plans on spending the whole evening helping you adjust.? Betty followed him first. After about five minutes, Amy went next. He took Jane?s hand when she almost tripped because of her heels. That left me to contemplate things. My house was completely different. There wasn?t any bedroom up top at all, other than the half that had been converted into Marcus?s new apartment. What was left for us was just a hallway and a bathroom. I looked into the bathroom, and noticed the tub missing. Now it had a urinal added to the stall that was behind a partition, like in any business. As to myself, I was getting thin. My stomach pouch was still there, but small. My legs were losing the most weight. Over that was a garter, panties, seamed stockings and bra. I adjusted the straps. I had been in heels so long my legs no longer felt completely strained, though the pain of heels never really quit, making me glad we had sitting-down jobs. My face reddened when I realized how absurd I looked. I?d been getting used to it, and that was the real delusion. Marcus must be busting inside to laugh. There was a small mirror still in the bathroom, so I glanced into that. I didn?t look anything like a woman. I was still the old me, though my face had lost a bit of its flesh. Christ, dressed like I was.... It?d be better if I had a female face. It?d be better if I was a female, in fact. Then I?d just be a normal accountant, building my business share to the point where I could retire and move to the Rivera. There I?d turn lesbian. Nah, I?d just get back to my old self, minus forty useless pounds. Linda will have, in fact, done me a favor, assuming I kept the course. Together we were making more money than apart, so even if I lost all this, my account would be flush. Maybe I could even convince my ex to go with me to this second life. In fact, that gave me an idea. When I met her, next, I?d bring up the whole idea of skipping the country. If she?d just get a job somewhere and wait it out a year before we started dating again. Gee, she?d know about all my kinks and not be bothered by them, possibly, so our relationship would be better than ever. I smiled while taking a leak into the new urinal, which was awkward because of the chastity curve, but doable if I pulled things out far enough and clanked it onto the sill. Doing the math, I figured I?d be at a cool million, in half a year, minus whatever all this upgrade cost the company (almost regardless of what that amounted to. If I could just hold out a year, we?d be on easy street with enough money to live on and a bit more to start that restaurant bar idea I?d had years back. We could set up on some beach in Central America. ?What?s so funny?? Marcus was at the restroom doorway. I put my locked-up penis back into my panties and mumbled, ?Sorry. I should have shut the door.? ?And that was humorous?? ?I was just thinking about how much Linda has done me a favor.? ?That?s the spirit. Honestly, I have to tell you, I think the new attitudes about letting sissies be sissies is great. First you got the gays, then the lesbians, now the sissy slaves. It?s all part of the new open culture. For so long, all people did was laugh at them, instead of consider the possibilities. We should have been accepting of this a hundred years ago, I?m thinking.? I swallowed, not knowing how to take that. ?Uh, alright.? He stayed behind me the whole way as I waddled down the basement steps. ?Well, I mean everyone gains. You get to be who you want to be, primp around and such. Studs like me get more pickings... from a purely selfish perspective, I suppose,? he said, obviously not interpreting my precise motivations. ?I figure if half the men like you turned sissy or gay, I?d have to take two women, just to be even. Maybe even a sissy, too, to keep house.? What the fuck was he talking about? ### The basement was dim, lit by a couple of low-watt wall sconces and a tiny array of LEDs lit over the other three sissies, who were standing in the middle of the room. I made out cell bars along one broad unlit wall, which sent my stomach rolling. Over along the better-lit wall was a little padded bench. Another corner held a couple of foot-square pads about a half-inch thick. After stepping off the last stair, I glanced all the way back to the left, along the wall abutting the steps, only to see a large seventy-inch flat screen. A computer and entertainment center were neatly situated at a small desk. Six padded, leather cushions appeared fixed on the floor before the television, such that the screen, would dominate viewing from so close. Mothers everywhere would be saying, ?Don?t you dare sit so close, you?ll ruin your eyes.? Near the end of what I thought might be cells, a shower and toilet stall sat, sans door. A sink, complete with cabinet and towels, had been neatly installed beside that; efficient, though quite modest. Regarding my fellow sissies, they each had a metal collar around their necks, fastened with tiny padlocks. The chains connected to those dangled from three slots in a metal housing installed on the ceiling. Each chain then threaded through that ceiling point before onward to a place on the far wall where the chain ends were attached to hooks on the wall. There was also much slack over there. Apparently, the amount of slack given each chain under the ceiling contraption was controlled by whoever manned the slack at the wall hook. Currently, there was about a foot or two of slack dangling at each of the sissy?s shoulders, so each could likely stoop, but not sit all that pretty. ?I?ve got to hook you up. Linda wants to play a little before bed. Nothing ominous, but you know how she sometimes gets antsy if she thinks she?s been left out of the picture.? Before bed? We?d eaten next to nothing, all day. Not that I wasn?t used to 500 calories a day, by now, but it was getting ridiculous. I?d lost enough pounds to almost call myself skinny, since meeting the mistress. Not that that wasn?t a good thing, but it could be too much. I felt weak and lightheaded, particularly as Marcus nudged my reluctant feet toward the others, all of whom shifted a little to give me space under the contraption from which the chains dangled through on the ceiling. Marcus took hold of the collar. I eased away, shaking my head and accidentally knocking into Becky. He gently grabbed my wrist and effortlessly pulled me closer. With only one hand, he slipped the collar over one side of my neck and fingered the rotating half so the protruding eyelets matched up. Just like that, I had a collar around my neck. I reached up and touched it. ?Now, take it easy, Sissymaid. It?s only a formality.? ?What are you?? They?d left the little lock dangling in a chain link a foot up, and Marcus deftly snatched it off, a second later fitting it through the holes in the collar. My hand automatically, more protectively then frantically, clasped at the collar, but even unlatched the little lock was already curled into the holes and held firmly enough for Marcus to take both hands and cinch it closed. I heard a tell-tale snick! He lightly smacked my ass and said, ?There you go.? He stepped clear. Without further fanfare, he took to the steps and ascended, though not before snicking all the lights off, other than the one little LED array that I now noticed was coming from where the chains had been threaded through the metal assembly above us four. We awkwardly stood there, dripping with sweat, although the temperature was probably a perfect seventy-three. Down below the floor, for a few square yards around and below us, was that padded tile you sometimes saw in the horse barns for the rich and famous, so it wasn?t quite as bad as standing on concrete, even though we were in heels. The basement drain was close, but otherwise we were out in the open middle. I squinted at a hose coiled up near the same place where the chains had been cinched to define our slack. None of the stuff I?d been storing in the basement could be seen. Obviously the whole place had been cleaned out. Then I recalled that I?d not seen anything of mine above, either. Was there nothing of mine left in the entire house? ?Fuck,? I mumbled. ?This is out of control,? Betty agreed. Like the floodgates, everyone complained. ?What have I gotten myself into?? Debbie said. ?I?m such a fucking idiot!? She rattled her chains, clawing at them. Amy started crying. It looked like Debbie and Amy were in full-on panic attack mode. The giant television snapped on. Mistress Linda?s face appeared from in front of her computer. ?I hope you like the changes. I went to a good deal of trouble, setting it up for your enjoyment; I know how kinky you sissies are. Nobody else would do this much for you, you know.? ?This might not be a good time, Mistress,? I tried, hoping there was some kind of room mic set up. ?Nonsense.? She tilted her head, as if looking around something. ?Is Amy crying?? ?She?s upset about all this. Where are my things?? I asked. Mistress Linda scrunched up a corner of her mouth. ?Are you being ungrateful, Amy?? ?No, ma?am,? he/she said, sniffling. ?The sooner we start, the sooner I can put you children to bed. Just hang in there with me a few minutes, alright?? ?Yes, ma?am,? Amy said. ?Good. Now, as you can see, I?ve made some improvements. You were all so crowded into those rooms upstairs. I felt I had to make some adjustments. The business is growing and the house is not that big. Usually, people forget they have a basement. This is easily four times as big as any room upstairs.? It occurred to me that making a major bachelor?s pad for Marcus might have contributed toward the room problem, but I remained intent upon getting through whatever she was going to say. ?I?m sending down some people to help with your transitions, but first we need to review some video.? Transitioning? That word again? Weren?t we ridiculous enough? The screen that had showed her talking shifted so we saw both her and an inset video. In the new video was Betty talking to Marcus. ?Do you see the way you are posed, Betty?? Mistress Linda asked us over the speakers. ?Yes, Mistress Linda.? ?Can anyone tell me what Betty did wrong in this video?? There was no audio to this particular shot, so I said, ?Did she say something rude? ?We certainly hope not. The problem is the way Betty is looking into Marcus?s eyes. You are a sissy, Betty. Sissies are not to look into the eyes of their betters.? ?Yes ma?am,? Betty said. She lowered her eyes. ?Well, you can look up at me while we?re on video, I suppose. Other than that, no more.? ?It?s just Marcus,? I tried. The look in Linda?s face grew stern. ?Did I put him in charge of things, today, Sissybitch?? ?Sorry. Yes, Mistress.? ?He?s a real man. What are you, Sissybitch?? What did she want me to say? ?A sissy.? ?Very good. So, from now on, whenever you are confronted by a real man or a woman, you will keep your eyes lowered out of respect for your betters. In the case of Marcus, I expect that it will be best if you stare at his crotch, so you get a feel for the proper amount of tilt.? ?His crotch?? Betty whispered. ?Not his feet.? I swallowed. ?His crotch?? I mumbled. ?Yes. His cock, in particular. Try to catch a glimpse and guess how much bigger it is than your little clitties.? We all stood there with steel collars around our necks, feeling ridiculous. ?Practice for me.? We all bowed our heads a little. ?Turn about and practice on each other. Pair up.? God no. But we all did. It was like we knew we had no choice but to do what she asked or there?d be some consequences. What, I was no longer sure, but I was sure that it?d be something. I stared at Betty?s pantied crotch, and she at mine. Betty?s clit was bigger than mine, and fatter, too. I?d seen it in its chastity device, which was basic and not the one with the tube going up the penis, like mine. That allowed him/her to go about three times longer without having to pee. I had to at the moment, and the more I got nervous, the more it had me hopping from leg to leg. ?Oh look. Sissybitch is going to dance for us.? ?I have to pee, Mistress Linda,? I tried. ?Well go ahead.? What was the use. She was going to make me do it anyway. I pissed my panties. Warm pee flowed down into my stockings and into my pumps, then finally onto the floor. The drain was only a couple feet away, so that was at least convenient. ?Soon as everyone pees, we can move on.? I heard someone else start to tinkle, a kind of subtle whoosh. ?Keep your eyes on those crotches, sissies.? Shit, now we had to watch each other pissing our panties. Piss filled Betty?s panties and bubbled out, washing down one leg. It started to smell pretty bad, but after a couple minutes, we?d all spent out. Then I heard a new trickle. Over by the wall near the garden hose, another tube was dangling from the ceiling. It emptied into a half- gallon metal bucket. The hose was less than in inch wide and clear. The liquid flowing down it was yellow. Someone was upstairs, pissing, and we were saving it in a bucket, over by the wall. ?Oh good. Marcus is trying out the new urinal.? Shit. ?You?ll be finding a mini kitchen in the first cell. You?ll need to pour his piss into a pot and distill it down to whatever salt that makes. Scrape it and make sure it?s finely crushed so it will fit into the salt shaker in there, okay, sissies.? Nobody spoke regarding that shocking bit of information, maybe because we had our eyes fixated upon each other?s pissy crotches most of the time. As wet as we all were, every nuance of the chastity devices showed like skeletons of our missing sex lives, all the way down to the folds of where out pricks languished inside. ?Did you hear me, sissies.? ?Yes, Mistress Linda,? we all said to the increasingly stern black woman who?d declared herself in charge. What the hell was she cooking up, now, with that salt? Were we supposed to? ?Soon as you put a little salt together, we can get you some real food. Aren?t you girls hungry?? No doubt about being hungry, but again, what did she mean by salt? ?Yes, Mistress.? ?Good. Now, look at the screen, girls. Look at me. There you go. Since the issue of proper salt for sissies is settled, I?ll have Marcus come down and let one of you loose to do that.? The look on her face hardened again. ?But, before I do, where should your eyes be, sissies?? We all said an assortment of demeaning things. ?At the real man?s crotch. Say it, cunts!? ?At the real man?s crotch,? we all repeated more precisely. ?Did you shake your head and smirk a little, Debbie?? She had to confess. ?Yes, Mistress.? ?This is the third thing I need to speak to you about, my bitches. The first was the need for salt. Can I hear you say, we need salt, gurls?? ?We need salt,? we mostly mumbled. ?The second is where to look. Where do sissies look, gurls?? ?At the real man?s crotch.? Some of us added, ?Mistress.? ?Is that settled, then?? ?Yes, Mistress.? ?Good. The last thing for today is demeanor. Those smirks have to go. Those shakes of the head. Those little eye rolls. A sissy maid is to be seen, not heard, and certainly not allowed to express attitudes. Do you hear me, gurls?? ?Yes, Mistress.? ?Good. Then, listen carefully. From now on your faces should remain neutral and professional at all times. This venture is an accounting firm, after all. It?s not like some Silocon Valley startup where everyone wears bow ties and has sing alongs. We are a serious profession operation.? She paused. A spattering of, ?Yes, Mistress.? ?Now, I?m not a ruthless woman, so we will set aside appropriate times wherein you may giggle and roll your eyes and whatever you choose, but whenever in the presence of your betters, I expect a one- hundred percent neutral face from my sissy maids. Is that clear, gurls?? ?Yes Mistress,? we said loudly and in unison. ?Excellent.? She cleared her throat. ?Say after me: We will have serious and attentive countenances at all times....? ?We will have serious and attentive countenances at all times.? ?We will not smirk.? ?We will not smirk.? ?We will not roll our eyes.? ?We will not roll our eyes.? ?We will not make trite jokes in hopes of restoring our dignity.? ?We will not make trite jokes in hopes of restoring our dignity.? ?We have no dignity.? ?We have no dignity.? ?There is nothing to restore by meaningless gestures or comments.? ?There is nothing to restore by meaningless gestures or comments.? ?We have no person.? I couldn?t believe what she was making us say. ?We have no person.? ?We are sissy maid slaves.? ?We are sissy maid slaves.? ?Our goal is to be competent and invisible.? ?Our goal is to be competent and invisible.? ?Higher pitch, sissies. I?m not sure you are trying. To not interrupt our betters in any way.? ?To not interrupt our betters in any way,? We all said an octave higher. ?In service to our masters.? ?In service to our masters.? ?And in service to the master race.? ?And in service to the master race.? ?Good. Much better. Let me see those lily white faces. Hum. Very nice. Purse those pussy lips a little. Even better. Now, remember. Eyes on the crotch. If it is female, on the feet. Now, I?ll send Marcus down to let one of you get a start on boiling down the salt. I know you can?t wait to finish that chore so you can get out of that silly necklace. Sissy hands. Palms facing the floor, little fingers pointing up out; I know it?s a strain. Sway the hips just a little.? The screen went blank. In its place was a screen saver. Every ten seconds it changed to a different black penis as we pranced in place, swaying our hips and straining our pinky fingers. Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Nine. We all were shaking by the time Marcus? feet banged down the steps again. Oh god, how mortifying to have to turn and face him. And we had to stare at his crotch with our pursed lips, palms toward the floor and staid facial expressions. We weren?t even allowed to say or gesture anything. The impulse to do something to shift aside the embarrassment, or to even acknowledge it, was so compelling that my throat almost retched. He came halfway to us and stopped. ?This is cute. It embarrasses me. Alright, Linda said she had a chore for one of you, so I?ll be fair and....? He casually pointed with his finger and started counting us around, ?Eenny, meenie, mighty moe, catch a shemale by the toe. If it hollers smack its ass. You?re the sissy who gets some...? He stopped counting at Amy, who was the most frightened of us all regarding all that had been going on for the past few weeks. His finger touched her shoulder. ?... do whatever Linda said you needed to see to before everyone can get unlocked.? He chuckled, produced a key, and let Amy off the chain. She took her eyes off Marcus?s crotch and scurried over to the wall where the pee hose was dangling into the bucket. There was a little screw-in cap for the hose, and once Amy secured it, she took the bucket into the last cell and poured what sounded like a quart into a tea kettle. At least the two-burner stove had gas, so it?d heat faster. Marcus backed from us, shaking his head and gawking like he could hardly believe the mess we were in. I caught the head movement and the tea kettle thing and most everything else by sneaking in my peripheral vision. God forbid I should not at least have my head aimed squarely upon Marcus?s crotch. I suppose women looked at packages a lot, and I realized how easily the outline of his could be made out under his zipper. Shit, shit, shit. Thank god he left up the stairs. Over in the last cell, the teapot started to steam. Ami discovered and turned on some kind of powerful industrial vent, and the air smelled cleaner in a second. But then we had to just wait with stoic faces and sissy hands and while moving our hips just enough to show the wiggle if someone looked at us long enough in those camera lenses. ?What does she want us to do with the... salt,? Debbie whispered. ?Shhhhh,? Betty barely breathed. Apparently I was at least half owner of the business, and their boss, but I dared not do even as much as breathe, so it didn?t feel like I was in charge of anything at all. We had to just get through this, and go to bed. Tomorrow would be another day, another day closer to my compiling a little fortune, recouping the lost costs of my femdom mistake and to making myself a fresh start-up. Maybe just packing a bag and skipping out for new climes would be alright, once I had enough cash. That was the ticket out. Put up with whatever they shoved my way, and run like hell. It would be easier done if I didn?t give an excuse for Linda to renege on our deal. Six months. We were likely doing ten grand a day. Even if that was only five, it?d be $150,000 a month. Half profit would be $75,000 and my half of the stock amounts to a value pushing $40,000. Do that ten months to a year, and get the fuck out of here with half a million. Who knows, the way the business was expanding, maybe a couple million. Shoot, I could just write it all off as a femdom vacation, and look at the bright side. It?d be best remembered if I tried to get some kind of fun factor out of it. I kept hoping to convince myself of that, and the sacrificial component of femdom itself was somewhat self-feeding. So far, the fun was oddly random and mostly entombed within that brutal and impaling cock cage. Shit, shit, shit. It hurt being perpetually fucked by a sounding tube. And I had to wank. Fuck focusing on banking a million bucks; I?d give my left nut for a cum! The only way any of that worked out was to play along and even go so far as to make sure these other three bozos did as well, given I was also making money off their slave labor. When Debbie started to disobey and say something else, I was the one to quickly whisper, ?Shhhh!? Ami had the heat up full blast, and she took the whole lid off the three-part teakettle so the liquid could boil off into the sucking vent faster. It still took about an hour. I was getting cramps from standing. At the last, she took the thing off the stove and started scraping the burnt-looking mess off the bottom. There was a salt shaker already on the stove, and he/she worked the dark crystals into that. We had a kind of salt, though I had no idea what else was in the mixture. Instead of Marcus, Tosha made an appearance in her brown, pencil- skirt business attire. She had a blender two-thirds full of some yellow and porridge concoction and a small covered casserole dish. ?Put your nose in the corner, bitch!? Amy swung her hips and held her hands out to her sides as she did her best to walk like a bimbo over to the corner, where she pressed her face into the seam and tried not to shiver in fear. Mostly, I struggled to keep my eyes on Tosha?s feet, constantly aware of the fact that she was the witch who?d stolen all my client contacts and who occupied the company?s front office. Shoot, I, apparently, had even bought her a house, and it seemed likely she?d stolen my car. The woman had a huge share in my company, too, though the firm was bigger, so that wasn?t terrible. Shoot, I should have been pressing charges, but instead some demon inside my head wouldn?t let me take my eyes off her toes while I swung my hips and pursed my lips like a cunt in heat. There was no way I?d ever be able to speak to her like an equal in the business again. Had she given any thought to that and what we might lose in my expertise? Tosha must have used the salt shaker because I peeked, and it was empty. She poured the blended concoction into a bread pan, filling it a quarter of the way. ?Alright, Amy. Put this in the little oven, over there to cook the cake completely.? Amy rushed over, swaying her hips and swinging her stiff arms with her pinky fingers poked out. She grabbed the pan and went over to put it into what looked more like a toaster oven than anything. Tosha disappeared up the stairs, leaving Amy to figure out what to do with herself. She paced back and forth. ?Point those palms to the ground, Sissy Amy!? came over the television speaker, though only Mistress Linda?s chair was on the screen. Amy pranced from one side of the room to the next, back and forth, swaying her hips and prancing like a fairy near the oven, not knowing what else to do with herself. Tosha came down and had Amy take the food out of the oven. Amy cut it into eight thin slices and put four of them onto saucer plates while Tosha unlocked our chains from our new steel collars and ordered us into the little cell rooms. The doors clanked shut as we obeyed the order to sit on the edges of the cots so we faced the little feeding slot in the bars. Amy gave us each a plate and a tall cup of water. The slice of food on mine measured maybe three ounces, maybe the same as a big cookie. ?Eat up, and drink plenty of water. I expect you to all be asleep in ten minutes. If you have to pee during the night, use your cup.? Tosha had just put us to bed, like children. My god, was it even eight o?clock? She left us to mull over the situation, on the way out flipping the light. I took a sniff of the food, and it smelled like the back end of a Chinese restaurant. I had to eat it. My stomach was rolling. It seemed like she?d blended everything in it, pieces of gnawed on meat fat, lettuce, maybe even a banana peel. When I took a bite, it didn?t taste like much of anything. ?Prisoner loaf,? Debbie said from a cell over. Getting the salty crumbs down was like swallowing pills with the water. When I finally did, my stomach still growled. So, this was what we?d come to, then. Bread and water and a prison cell. Alright. I could tough it out. Another six months, maybe, and I?d hit the road with my cut of the firm. In fact, all this discipline was helpful. If everyone was forced to work three times as hard as normal, and for no money, my company was going to make a wad. That was the way to look at it. It wasn?t that I was being treated like a slave. It was that the other three were, all to my eventual good. It was also a great savings plan and a perfect diet. How many times had I wondered what my savings would have been like if I?d just been able to save everything I made over a year or two? I sat back, held my stomach to ease the cramps and smiled a knowing smile. ### The problem was that we were put through the same routine for the next ten days. The prisoner loaf was late morning meal as well as just before bed, like clockwork. My appointment to meet my ex-wife passed without us meeting. Calls out were disallowed on company time, and it was all company time. Neither did my ex call again. As to my business contacts, I?d not talked to any in a month. I?d not been out of the house/office/prison for an endless stream of days. We?d been relegated to heels, hose, garters and panties. Nothing else was allowed. Everyone showed ribs and backbones. Shoulder blades stuck out. We all still had those little round bellies, though, so some fat persisted for a few more days, at least. The gut had to go, according to Mistress Linda on the television. That meant lots of running in place started. We did this while chained at the neck. Tosha came down near the end of these sessions to smack us on the asses with her little crop. Nobody dared say a thing cross to her. This translated to the day job, and every notion that I?d ever been the boss became absurd. Marcus couldn?t help but yield to the new reality of our staid faces and the way our eyes refused to look at anything but his crotch whenever we were not in a position to look at our work screens or where we were going. One day, while shuffling from the bathroom, through the hall and back into our office, Marcus asked me, ?You want some of this?? ?No, Sir.? I instinctively added a curtsy. By then I?d learned that a curtsy was the only way I could punctuate any emotion in a way suggesting emphasis because every other expression was forbidden. ?Are you sure?? I was staring at his crotch with pouting lips and still saying, ?No thank you, Sir.? I made my way to my work station and sat. The computer blinked and Mistress Linda?s face showed. ?Whenever a man asks you if you want his cock, you must be honest, Sissybitch!? ?Yes, Mistress,? I said. Marcus chuckled from the lounge chair we?d installed, so he could be more comfortable monitoring us while he surfed the net and watched videos on his pad. Marcus took another swig of his beer. Everybody?s mouths watered because we?d not had a beer in forever. ?Now tell Sir Marcus what you want, Sissybitch, or you?ll never get out of that chastity again. Ask him politely.? I swallowed hard. I seriously didn?t want to do it, but I stood, faced him as she sat in his lounge chair, and curtsied. ?You have a lovely penis, Mr. Marcus.? ?Well, thank you, Sissybitch. Jane seems to think so, too.? Jane? My ex-wife? I had to say, ?Thank you, Sir.? ?Any time. I?ll tell her how much you envy what she?s getting.? He patted his crotch. ?you do want some, don?t you? You?re not just saying that?? ?No Sir. I mean, yes Sir.? ?Well, I have a rule. The first time a sissy sucks my cock, she gets her little clit set free. That way, she can have some fun, too,? Marcus said. ?Doesn?t that sound fair?? Letting my cock free from the cage? I felt desperate. ?Yes, Sir. I?d love that, Sir.? ?You want to suck my cock?? ?Yes Sir.? I felt sick. ?Ask me, Sissybitch.? ?I?d love to suck your cock, Sir.? Fucking no way in hell. ?What would that make you?? ?I don?t know.? ?Shit, what are you, stupid?? ?Don?t make me?? ?Fuck that.? He leaned up like he meant to be troubled enough to get out of his chair. ?A cocksucker. I?m a cocksucker, Sir.? ?Say what you are, bitch.? ?I?m a cocksucker, Sir. I like dick.? ?What kind of dick.? ?Big black dick, Sir. I love black cock.? ?Let me get a video of that. Jane would be impressed.? He pushed some button on his pad and pointed the back of the screen toward me. ?There, I got it now. Go ahead.? I felt like I was about to pass out. ?Uhhh,? I stammered. I couldn?t say it. ?Now I have to start the video over. Hurry up.? He hit some buttons on the screen then aimed the thing at me again. Fuck, fuck, fuck! ?I?m a cocksucker, Sir. I love black cock.? He smiled and pushed the stop record button. ?She?s gonna eat that up almost as much as my dick. And thanks for setting up that date for us; though I did hustle her away from that White Castle. What were you thinking, dick licker?? By the end of that evening I felt too defeated for words. The only good thing was that Marcus settled down and was polite most of the time. It felt like he was the only friend any of us had. He let us go on potty breaks and even made sure we had ice for our water. When it came time for our late morning meal, he serves us our prisoner loaf. The salt in it?the salt that he?d provided, maybe unknowingly?no longer tasted funny, but just normal. There was food mixed up in the prison loaf, and it stopped our stomachs from aching for an hour, so I knew we were associating Marcus with any sense of comfort and security at all. It was like he?d become our source of life itself. The only time we saw Linda was when she came on the screen to correct us, spotty always. Tosha was just the company bitch, bringing us work and never capable of an encouraging word, but Marcus sometimes showed us something funny he saw on his pad, occasionally talked to us about the latest sports and didn?t make any real fuss about us always having to glare at his crotch and call him Sir. It became just the way it was. Even that outbreak about me having to say I was a cocksucker didn?t repeat for three days, though I wondered if he?d actually had sex with Jane or not. Did he do all that just to fuck with me, or was he screwing my ex for real? ### We had a doctor visit for what Marcus had called our house-call annual physical. My arm grew sore from where he took six veils of blood. He seemed to take particular pride in the anal probe and gloated over the way we were all dressed in panties, garters and hose. No doubt the doctor was gay as they come, and enjoyed his work when he made triply sure none of us had swollen prostates. Beady, balding, bubble-butt and ugly, we were likely the best dates he?d get in a while. The freaky thing about it was his case where he put the blood had the name Weaton Enterprises on it, and the man?s touch wasn?t gentle like you?d expect from a family doctor. No doubt Mistress Linda had something on him, or maybe he got free services from her; or at least I got that vibe. We were glad to see him gone, though that left us in our basement home, wandering around, repeatedly reading back issues of Cosmos or Lady?s Home Journal. Debbie always pigged the Seventeens. ?Let?s play a game, girls,? Mistress Linda suddenly materialized and said on one of the big screens in our dungeon. Up above our heads, apparently in the living half of the house, Marcus was having some kind of party. Maybe the doctor was in on that as part payment. People were scuffing around on the floor like they were dancing, and rap music filtered through. If we?d been real neighbors, I?d have pounded the ceiling with a broom handle. Instead, we weren?t real neighbors, in the sense that our opinions didn?t matter. We were sitting around in panties, garters, stocking and heels, left to our own devices, which sometimes meant we could use the computer to surf the net. Everyone saw what the other person was doing because the monitor was the same television that Mistress Linda interrupted. We?d decided upon a system where one person got the computer every fourth day, while everyone else just watched. Usually that meant Youtube because porn was excruciating in our chastity devices, and we were still subconsciously private about it. Since the best seats were our own beds, we spent any free time sitting on them, in our cells, watching the television out the bars, like real prisoners. Lots of cat and music videos dominated. Someone, of course, had to distill the piss, and those chains we were occasionally made to stand in dangled out there threateningly. Maybe it was good that Marcus was having a party and thus busy. But the Mistress broke in felt ominous: ?It?s called trade for freedom and food. I have a niece who is taking a psychology class and needs pigs for her study. I thought, what fun. We?ll have to change a few things for the report, but I?m sure many of the nuances will apply. I?m so excited about it.? She smiled and leaned in, showing ample cleavage. We all wandered into the room and took our places on our knees in front of the television, as was expected. The cameras undoubtedly caught us at several angles. I doubt that she watched us all the time, but she surely did while talking to us. More than likely we weren?t even a thought until then. Given she and her plans were constantly in our thoughts, it was incredibly one-sided, thought about that way, and somehow worse than being spied upon 24/7. ?I?ll be showing you a short list of three things that you might or might not want to do. If any one of you agree to do the top thing on the list of three things, you all get a treat for supper, along with your prison loaf, that day. How?s that sound? And, just to add to the fun, you can roll the dice to see if you all get a cummy. Wouldn?t a cum be great after all this time in chasity?? ?Yes. Thank you, Mistress Linda,? we all droned in our highest sissy voices. An orgasm? I?d give my left nut for an orgasm. Shoot, I?d give it just for a few minutes out of the impaling chastity device. I hadn?t even felt my own pee running down my shaft in forever. More and better meals were also welcomed. Prison loaf was terrible, and we were all losing weight from so little of it. I was a twig. ?Then, once the top item is traded for, item two becomes item one, and item three becomes item two. I?ll add a new third item to the bottom of the list each time, so you always know three things a day in advance, and maybe plan for it. You might like item two better than one, and hold out for it. Someone might like item one more than item two and want to jump on it quickly. If that happens every day, you get a food treat and a chance to come, every single day! ?If two sissies want it, you need to squeal the loudest when I break in and say bids are open. Like piggies. I love it when slaves squeeeee, squeeee, like little piggy bitches. If you don?t squeal loud enough, I might acknowledge the second to beg instead, so voice up, piggies! Any question, sissies?? ?Mistress Linda, can the same person keep picking?? Betty asked. ?Piggy, Betty. Let?s just be piggies for a while and skip the person nominative, shall we?? ?I meant, can the same piggy keep picking, Mistress?? ?Good question, cunt Betty. At first, anyone can squeal and volunteer, but after that, only the next three are eligible. Then only the two who haven?t picked something. Then it is down to the first one who picked and the one who has held out. Technically speaking, one of you might hold out forever and never pick anything, always being in the two. But for now, everyone can pick the first thing; isn?t that special? ?Yes, Mistress Linda,? we said. So, if you pick one today then Debbie, Amy and Sissybitch can pick item two tomorrow, which will be item one by then. If Bimbo Debbie picks the next thing, Airhead Amy and Sissybitch are the only ones allowed to pick the third thing, which will have moved up, as well. If Amy is the third to pick, we?re rolling you back in, and it will be Sissybitch and you again, Betty, to pick the fourth item as it rises to the top of the list. You won?t even know what the fourth item on the first list is until after the first pick, though, because I?m only showing you three at a time. There?s mystery in it, adding a whole lot to our fun to the process.? ?What if someone, say Sissybitch, never picks anything? Someone might hold out and always be in the bottom two,? Betty asked. ?I expect that to happen. But, just to make it fun, I?m not requiring anyone to pick. It?s entirely up to you if you eat that day or get a chance to cum. Both of the sissies on the bottom can refuse to pick the top item on the list at any time. Once a day I?ll ask. If it?s no volunteers, it?s alright. No food or dice roll for orgasms, though. You?ve got to sing for your supper, gurls. And of course, one hog can hold out forever.? I had to ask, ?How long are we doing this?? because I planned on cutting my losses and taking the company profits in eight or so months. Whatever she had planned, I needed to know when it ended. ?Excellent question, Sissybitch.? Her face quit the screen, and in its place was a video of me during the first day of her enslavement and blackmail. I was standing in the room that used to be my computer room, pissing my panties. The audio bloomed darkly. The other three sissies were required to watch that. It was like a big commercial, just to shut me up. ?Six months, starting today. After that, no more tricks for your supper or cummies. After six months, I plan on letting you all cum at least once every three days, and I promise the rations will be much more generous once you are all properly thin like twinks.? Something to look forward to, then. And orgasms were already back on the plate. I was a little encouraged, and that awful video was cut off, returning us to Mistress Linda?s face. ?I?m looking forward to asking two of you to share a ball gag. That?s so romantic.? Nobody spoke. What did sharing a ball gag mean? I tried to envision it while I glanced side to side at my fellow sissies. I didn?t think I wanted to get that intimate. ?So, here is the first list for today, with a timer on the bottom, counting down. Soon as I hear a piggy squeal, we can get to it. Just go up the steps and knock on the basement door. Marcus has been informed and will get you set up. If the time runs down to zero, you have to wait until tomorrow? The screen went black. We waited. Nothing. Minutes passed. Amy cleared her throat. Debbie whispered, ?I wonder what?? The screen flashed up, and in huge letters, three items appeared on a numbered list. Below the items a counter counted, 10:00, 09:59, 09:58.... 1) Shirley Temple perm. 2) Two hours facing the wall, deepthroating a dildo. 3) Electrolysis hair removal, back of torso. We all spent a long time looking those insane choices over. The second one we?d done, more or less. Deepthroating and that long might be hard. How long would a perm last? Would it be so bad or even different from our predicament? Lot of guys had curly hair; it didn?t mean anything in particular. Hair removal was pretty semi-permanent. Maybe I?d hold out for whatever was next and let the underlings do the first three. A perm might mean going to a salon, and Marcus would probably let me wear normal clothing for that. Also, I?d get out. Maybe I?d see something to benefit my plan to finally get clear of all this, like where my car was parked. If I waited, I would end up being hairless in back. Let someone else do that one. Once they got started they?d have to pick the hair removal every time to even it out, leaving me alone. I opened my mouth and said, ?I?ll do number one.? But Debbie beat me because she remembered to squeal like a pig. They did the perm after our twelve hours of work the next day, up in the office that we?d expended into another workspace. Debbie came tromping down the stairs with puff-ball hair, almost an afro, bleached of all color and tinted pink. They?d even thinned and done her eyebrows. Through her thin panties, we could tell they?d matched the color on her landing pad. We?d even rolled a dice and come up with a one, bingo! The door from upstairs opened, and down walked Marcus and Tosha. We were put into the head chains, and thus made to stand in one place like idiots while Tosha produced keys and unlocked our chastity restraints. I thought I was going to pass out from the weird feeling of her pulling the penis impaling rod out. A little piss leaked. She smacked my dick and laughed at that. ?Alright, clean up those tiny white clits, sissies,? she said. Marcus, having taken a seat, chuckled. All of our faces were extra white from embarrassment. You?d think it wasn?t possible to be more embarrassed, but we?d gotten used to prancing around in panties, and this was new, particularly with Tosha touching our penises. The big screen and side screens all came on, showing Mistress Linda?s lovely face. ?Well, isn?t this special. All my sissy slaves get a good cum, today. Can we say hooray?? We did, though timidly. ?You might want to leave for this, Marcus. I know you?re missing the party.? He got up and left, saying, ?Enjoy.? He was on our side, I realized, when he added, ?You?ve earned it.? I mean, what man could not relate to not being able to get a hand on things in weeks on end? The screens flickered, and on came some porn. First a woman sashaying, and then it showed a giant black penis. Another woman was shown fucking a black man, and then the caption flashed: You used to watch the woman. It flashed again: Now you want cock. A picture of a black cock, side view, hit. Then a picture of a tiny sissy penis next to a big black cock. More fucking, but this time a black man banging a sissy. By the second minute, the screen just went from pictures of one black cock after the other. ?This is not my thing,? Tosha said, and she walked up the stairs, leaving us to the video show and our own wandering hands. Our penises were free. We didn?t know what to do, or what we were allowed to do, but we?d not been free in forever. Even though my penis seemed smaller, my testicles were the sizes of bowling balls, full of cum. ?Alright, sissies, you have thirty minutes. Make the best of it,? came Mistress Linda?s voice over the speakers. The porn continued, along with a new woman?s voice saying, ?You?re not gay. You love pussy. You?re not looking at cocks. Don?t look at cocks. If you get hard, you?ll turn gay. Don?t turn gay. You?re not a faggot. Don?t be a faggot. Stop looking at cocks. Why are you looking at cocks?? In the meantime, it was a steady stream of black cocks flickering on the screens, only interrupted a few times by pictures of tiny white dicks on sissies and sissies being banged by big black men. The hell with it. I was going to have a cum. For that matter, Debbie and Amy had beaten me to it and were whacking away, not a foot from each side of me. We were almost shoulder to shoulder, privacy be damned. Amy spurted cum rockets about five feet, like I?d not been able to do since a teenager. She moaned like a bitch. Betty said, ?What the hell,? and joined us in beating off his tiny prick. I don?t think there was fifteen inches of wang in the combination of us and all of our dicklets were hard as rocks. Amy stayed hard and kept at it. This is when it occurred to me that we could have more than one orgasm with thirty whole minutes. Well, twenty-eight. Who was counting? Shit, I was counting. The vocalization about being sissy faggots got louder. The dicks on the screens got bigger. I was watching the videos, wanting the assist with porn, looking for the very occasional picture of a woman to beat off to, but they only came in snippets, maybe one woman every minute, and lasting about two seconds. Otherwise it was dicks and sissies. A steady stream of cocks banged onto the screen, one after the other. ?Oh Hell!? I spurted. Cum dribbled out of my pencil dick, along my fingers and onto the floor. I grabbed my balls and tried to hold some of the cum in, which was impossible as a tactic, but I wanted to wank again. I needed to do it again. I had to somehow make up for not being allowed to cum in forever. At the same time I was embarrassed and disgusted for being such a pig in front of my fellow swine. Betty spewed, followed by Debbie. The next video came on, and this was just a whole gang of black men fucking a white twink. He didn?t even have on a skirt or panties or anything female as maybe a gender confusion excuse. He was just a faggot, plain and simple, soon cringing in pain as twelve inches after twelve inches invaded his guts deep enough to tickle his heart. Fuck what it was about. I had to cum again. Who knows when I?d be able to next? Oh, shit, my micro penis wasn?t even stiff, but if I tried real hard to think of the most perverted thing possible, maybe.... I glared at the screen, imagining myself the victim. That was about as low as a sub could get, so I ironically started to feel the tingly. I think we all came within the same minute after Mistress Linda?s voice came on saying, ?Two more minutes. Isn?t it wonderful!? Cum. Cum. Cum. Cum. All of those second cums were no more than a few small drops, but the concrete floor under our feet was already slime. Marcus returned, bearing an aluminum party container with four pork sausages from the barbeque. There was also a salad and a bowl of rice pudding. Thinking back, it probably only amounted to three-hundred calories each, but after nothing but one meal of slave cake per day, we looked at it with salivating mouths and the sense that we?d won the jackpot. Not only did we get to cum, but we were going to have a feast. While he sat that on our tiny table, the disgusting porn disappeared and the big monitor on the wall lit up with the next selections: 1) Two hours facing the wall, deepthroating a dildo. 2) Electrolysis hair removal, back of torso. 3) Genetic improvement, limited study. Screw that. Nobody picked anything. We?d hold out a day. I?m sure we were thinking the same thing, that the ordeal was six months long, and if we held out some, we?d end up doing less damage. Mistress Linda had promised, after all, that in six months we?d no longer have to go through these gyrations, and it?d all let up. She seemed a woman of her word, oddly enough, even though she?d reduced us to these things we?d become. ?Back on with the chastity,? Mistress Linda said. Marcus handed them to us, offering some lube for the metal tubes that went inside our dicks. There was no problem with fighting erections, at least. We had to do ourselves while he watched us put our own dicks back into the tiny jails?self imprisonment. ?Better you than me, is all I be saying.? He smirked with crossed arms and shaking head. ?It?s just the situation,? I said, trying to save face. Impossible while in a head chain, fondling my dick and standing in a communal puddle of cum. ?I?m unlocking your necks, now,? Marcus said while our food was getting cold. ?Mistress Linda says you need to lick the floor clean. Then you can eat human food.? We?d been stepping in it, and though they had us clean the floor every night, it was still cold concrete. And usually we didn?t clean the floor with our tongues. Unlocked, we got on hands and knees. Amy cheated and only pretended to be licking, making the rest of us make up for her. I decided to forget what I was licking up and think of it as protein, though it was mostly fat. We were becoming twigs. No, screw becoming; we were twigs. We needed all we could get, so I licked up Amy?s as well. By the time Marcus deemed we?d cleaned the floor entirely, we had two remaining minutes for someone to squeal like a pig and pick the dildo sucking choice. Nobody did. I waited for someone else to pick the dildo thing. I?d had enough self-abasement for a lifetime, and wasn?t horny, which was good. So, nobody picked anything, and Marcus left. I was tempted to steal someone else?s food and not share, but in the end we did the gentlemanly thing, though with rivalry in our eyes. Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Ten. Nobody picked anything the day before, like I?d mentioned. This resulted the next day in Mistress Linda making us all line up at the wall where dildos had been attached by a bolted-on support at crotch level. We?d been eyeing those things since we?d moved in and knew it was coming. Each of us sank to our knees and responded to her metronome as it clicked every five seconds, one for in, one for out. ?Deep throat, now, gurls,? she commanded, and we tried to swallow. Everyone choked and some of that evening?s newly consumed prison loaf came up in my case. I swallowed it back down and deep throated again. We did that for a few minutes, finally not gagging as often. The secret, I guess, is to breath in first and just pretend you were eating the thing like normal food. Easier said than done. At least Marcus or Tosha weren?t down in the slave pit watching. But, needless to say, the next day we all tried to beat each other at squealing for the honor of deepthroating a dildo for two hours, given we?d already done that and it didn?t seem as special. Betty won that honor, and she was probably the least likely to want to do that sort of thing amongst us. Still, we watched her suck that synthetic dick to death, half the time with it bulging at her throat, with glee in our eyes. We were going to eat real food and get to roll the dice for a one in six chance to wank. One again! This time we were free to each kneel into a the same cramped corner and wank our meat while staring at the seam, jerking shoulder to shoulder. In the background, that female voice on the monitor was cooing, ?You?re not a faggot, are you? You don?t want dick do you? You can?t get cock out of your mind. No, no, don?t think of cock, it would mean you?re gay. You?re not gay. You?re gay. You want cock. No, don?t cum. If you cum, you?ll turn gay.? This went on and on, and in the end I came and edged some more but couldn?t do it a second time. We licked up our own spew like a little herd of grazing cows, trying not to bump our pathetic little heads together. To think, we?d been perfectly normal men, fantasizing in private, not very long ago, and had so thoroughly become entangled in that stupid Teamviewer idea, dreaming about femdom blackmail, like it wasn?t even possible that someone could actually ruin us into things like we?d become. It was chicken salad on a hotdog bun and a raw zucchini each. The theme was obvious, chicks with buns, something long and hard, but we weren?t going to crack. We were all heterosexual males, after all, and those things are encoded in our DNA. We could bend and bend a lot, but the scheming was only temporary, I figured. After that, we held out two whole days until Debbie squealed like a pig for electrolysis. We lined up like the maid staff, in honor of the two middle-aged black female technicians who came down the stairs. Marcus carried the waist-high folding cot and he went back for the equipment. ?I?m told you are to be trained,? the shorter lady of about forty said. Whatever. First we?d heard of it called training. We nodded. Debbie laid on the cot, face down, and they plugged in their machine, starting in on his back. Mistress Linda hadn?t even allowed us to do our normal body shaves in a week, so the hair length was perfect for getting at the hairs. They had magnifier things and probes, and they took their time, one hair bing, another hair, flinch, etc.... This was going to take forever. ?Hover around. Now, you stay orderly and pick the next hair.? She showed us a dozen more times, having us all have a go at plucking the feathers off our fellow piglet. ?Go clean your hands with this antiseptic and return.? We did that, and the next thing I knew, I was using the machine on Debbie almost as fast as they?d gone, destroying hair follicles down to the nub. They had me do that until my hand ached, and then Amy took a turn. Debbie barely flinched. Apparently it wasn?t all that painful after she got used to it. Good thing, because it took the whole two hours to just get a couple square feet of him semi-permanently denuded of hair. ?Alright, we?ll leave it to you three.? The women packed up and left, though they left us with the machine. ?Each of you practice on Debbie for a couple hours,? Marcus said. Hours? He left as well. He was all dressed up, like he meant to go on a date. Fine for him, I suppose. Was he really dating my ex? I took the first hour and the others spelled me. This was going to take up half the night, I realized, wanting to get some sleep. Six hours later, there wasn?t a chance in hell of finding another hair, other than if Debbie rolled over. The back was beet red. Nobody picked from the new list. What had it been? Five days? Now six. Now seven. Now ten. We had six months, for crying out loud. What would find its way onto that list in 170 days? We were all great at math, and the studies had gone well, so everyone would be a legitimate accountant, at least, within the month. If we needed a reminder of how bad it could get, all we had to do was look at Debbie, smooth as a beach ball in back and contrasted a bunch by her front. She would have looked better with it all gone, we knew. We were growing increasingly hairy after we?d been disallowed body shaves. Shoot, we were all growing beards. Amy?s pink hair also served as reminder of the possibilities, now contrasted against a dark facial shadow. If we held out, we?d not get a wank, and we?d only get prison loaf, but we could deal with hunger pains and blue balls. For a while. Three more days rolled by, and it was miserable. We were rails. Mistress didn?t press, but we were all thinking that it couldn?t go on forever. Someone would crack, like a giant duh. It wasn?t just me. It was everyone. SOMEONE would oink, and then I?d be left to pick. Then again, maybe they?d all pick, and I?d not have to ever pick. I could hold out forever and just be selfish. The list read: 1) Genetic improvement limited study. 2) Electrolysis hair removal, back or front. 3) Genetic improvement, limited study. What in hell was genetic improvement? Was that like a lab rat? So, I asked. ?Mistress Linda, may I ask what genetic improvement is?? She?d graced us with her time while we were instructed about a new account, and I planned on taking advantage of it. ?Our doctor is a world-renowned geneticist. You should be honored.? I grew bold. ?What do you have on him?? ?Nothing, you sissy slut. He just gets our services. I find his work curious.? ?Okay, Mistress, but about those services.? ?What are you accusing me of, slave? Do I not have your interests in mind? I don?t like your tone.? ?Nothing, Mistress. I?m just wondering what he does. It?s on the list. Ma?am.? ?His work centers around isolating certain genetic defects and correcting them. For example, Primary Immunity Deficiency has been correlated to over a hundred different genes. If he can spot a deficient one, he can gene splice a normal gene into the matrix and provide a vector, in the form of a virus, into the gene, putting it back into the body, where the new genetic code basically act like a mild virus. It takes over and all the misshapened chromosomes are one gene closer to normal. His work is so interesting that I studied up.? ?Why us?? ?That?s easy. He needs a study group. Usually that costs millions. I offered my help. After all, he?s just making you better. In some cases he?ll just be changing out what?s already there in your sissy souls anyway. You might not have any effect at all.? ?Depending upon what he changes,? I said. She sighed, but while spearing me with an eyeball. ?If you volunteer, I?ll just get the electrolysis over with next. Being half nude of hair feels ridiculous,? Debbie risked mentioning to me. I must have been on the edge because two seconds after I squealed I wondered why I?d not opted to at least hold out for another few days, and maybe forever. Someone else would have volunteered. I could have said no forever. Stupid me! ?Squeeeeeel, squeelll, squeeeeelll, squeal.? We ate Vienna sausages the next day and got to masturbate onto each other?s feet without even needing to roll the dice. Then we had to lick the cum off the floor and feet our spunk had landed on. Well, at least we had clean feet, but it was disgusting how horny we were and how little we thought of it, other than the foot part. At least the gay videos were absent. Maybe Mistress Linda was busy. The same beady doctor came in and the same cot was rolled out. He smiled at me like I was the prize pig. Shit, I was the prize pig. After connecting my neck collar to a two-foot chain on the bed leg, he slipping a tourniquet on my arm. He wiped my arm down with alcohol and stabbed a prepared needle into a vein. The syringe had a pink substance in it, mostly transparent. The fluid slowly sank into my soul, and he pulled out, removing the tourniquet. ?There. Simple and painless. The real work is in the lab,? he said with a cordial smile. ?What?s ummm...? I didn?t even know what to ask, exactly. ?Glad you asked. Most people aren?t that interested in the details of my research. We start with that sample of blood we took a while back. So, it?s your own blood, mostly. Actually, it wouldn?t work at all if it was someone else?s; kind of misses the point. Remember when that nurse did your exam?? I nodded. ?This time we?re testing the Xq28, 7q36, 10q26 and 8p12. A touch on Xp-22.3 and associates. Two others, the numbers slip my mind at the moment. The project is very elaborate, actually, but tiny in the grand scheme of things. All of those genes are fairly harmless. It?ll be weeks, maybe even months before we know if any of that changes anything. My staff has its doubts we?ll notice, and we know what we?re looking for, vaguely. You, of course, are in the dark, which is what we want in a controlled study. I?ll have to take a blood test in a month to see if it took. Otherwise we?ll likely not know if the genes even took over because much of it is behaviorally related. Not all, but....? He was saying it was all pretty meaningless, though I still had questions. ?Is that all?? What was the point in asking specifics when I didn?t even know what Xp this or that meant. ?Well, OCA2 and HERC2 are my favorite improvements.? He whispered, ?Mistress Linda thinks highly of you for adding that.? Next, he pulled a folded data sheet out of a rear pocket. ?Let?s see: Rs7816345, rs4849887, rs17625845, rs12173570, rs7089814, rs12371778, rs62314947. I put my foot down at ESR1 and PTHLH. We want to be safe. Those that we included are likely to give you a lift.? ?Oooookaaay.? I looked at him cross eyed. ?Don?t worry. Everything is likely to be an improvement. You?re perfect for the experiment.? Experiment? I swallowed hard. ?How exactly does all this gene stuff work? I mean, in layman?s terms. I should have asked that first.? ?Well, in layman?s terms, we do a bunch of stuff in the lab, removing segments from your own DNA, providing treatments to the genes we want to replace, which causes them to merge with the split segments, and then after about ten more steps, we have a new gene with a safe-virus vector. It is a ton of work. All that is multiplied to a billion cells or so, thus the pink look to the injection.? I nodded for him to go on. The chain on my neck rattled. ?Once inside, the virus invades the host cells and takes over, like viruses tend to do, and they do it very well, invading every cell in the body. The old chromosomes are replaced with the new ones in the cells, then they breed more of the same until every cell in your body is new DNA. You?ll have a minor fever, if all goes well, and no rejection. I?ll leave some Tylenol. If it gets bad, we?ll have to put you in the clinic. After a while, all the old cells carry a completely new genetic code, which they pass on when they split, as nature tends to do in a healthy beast. The virus dies off. You?ll be a brand new man, though like I said, it?s a tweak. You have 46 chromosomes in a cell, and each as twenty-five thousand coded genes. That doesn?t even get to how they are expressed or triggered or how they might have been chemically altered during childbirth.? ?So, that?s the easy interpretation?? My head was swimming, just like those new genes were swimming in my blood. In my imagination I could feel them. ?But what you put in me is still me?? ?Oh for sure. I used your own chromosomes. The changes are infinitesimal, along the lines of what you?d see in an identical twin, which of course are never perfectly identical. It would be completely unethical to not use your own chromosomes.... Well, it wouldn?t work and would kill you. I?m not interested in any of that. Now, the biggest risk is rejection, so a drug to prevent that is also administered. This is a little under the table, but you volunteered. Still, I have no desire to hurt you in the least. I?m a doctor. First do no harm. I take that to bed with me every night.? Apparently he took some of the mistress?s femdom to bed with him, as well, I suspected. I felt reassured, though. A little. ?Where?s that Tylonal?? If I didn?t get sick, maybe I?d even volunteer for this one again. If all we were doing was making me superman or something. Within the next twenty days, we?d all seen that doctor. I did get a fever, but it passed in three days, and we were so caught up in the new way things went that we felt like we were on autopilot. I?d held out on the electrolysis, but gotten lots of practice using the machine on everyone else. The two black women were keeping track, offering that with enough practice we?d be candidates for certification. They were keeping records, just to get us legal. Then, over a month into it, and with five months left, the list read like this: 1) Electrolysis hair removal. 2) Electrolysis hair removal. 3) Electrolysis hair removal. We were all getting hairy, looking silly, front or back, in our bottom-half lingerie. I had all my hair. Amy and Betty, the front half, like mutants. Debbie actually looked better than the rest of us, bare all over except for her thinned eyebrows, long head hair and the embarrassing landing pad. We all looked a mess, compared to her. So, three of those meant half of Amy, half of Betty and half of me. It?s not like anyone but me could be the target, if by the third new one of those everyone but me had been done with the table. ?Just hold out,? though, I often whispered, which they were starting to take as being selfish. In fact, I could see in Betty?s eyes that they were thinking about jumping on that table as soon as possible, just to force it into my lap. All the holding out would be on me, then, and it?d be my fault that we were starving and unable through the dice with a chance to touch our own penises. Everyone needed someone to blame, someone they could do that to and get away with it. Fuck, fuck, fuck.... So, the very next day, Betty, and then Amy squealed. I was the only one with hair on my body when we were allowed to bend over and back our asses onto the dildos on the wall, and wank that way, after finally rolling another one on the dice. It was odd, bent over, but the worst part was how much I liked it. It was easier with the anal stimulation. Fuck me in the ass. I even moved in and out a little, though we?d not been asked. I watched the faggot-maker movies with keener interest, hoping to get off twice. Which I did, with time to spare. Then after I?d cum, I?d been so disgusted that I?d wished I were dead. Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Eleven. The next list came up: 1) Electrolysis hair removal. 2) Electrolysis hair removal. 3) Depo-Provera, 3 month implant. While we were reading the new list, one of the electrolysis women brought down the scales. I was one-thirteen. I?d not been that light since puberty. I noticed that they?d cut the prison loaf in half, right off, as well. It was obvious, no longer a square. We were going to have to sing for our supper, and if we missed too many more calories, it?d be a disaster. Holding out might end up a death sentence. But, I had to. If I could just make it four months, maybe we?d have a chance. The business will have made enough money by then for me to cash out, too. Not only would the trials be over, but I?d be able to steal something out of Marcus?s wardrobe and demand that Tosha cut a check. Clearly, judging from our workload, this company was making a fortune, and I owned half of it. In the meantime, who knew what was next; it seemed terrible already. Depo was serious stuff, I already knew. It was a kind of chemical castration, and while reversible, it was also risky. Sometimes the effects of reduced sperm were permanent. I?d not yet fathered children, both a good thing and a terrifying thing. Stealing my ability to father a child was taking it too far. We had to hold out. In fact, I had to hold out, given I was the only one who still was with body hair, other than touch ups. Three days passed. My stomach wouldn?t quit hurting like something out an ulcer. I imagined I was all of a hundred pounds of bones and skin. The others were always jabbing at me, telling me they were going to jump me in my sleep if I didn?t squeal. ?Squeeeal!? I found myself saying on the fourth day. I just walked over and laid down flat on the table and waited, too weak to even stand there until the technicians came down. Marcus came down alone. He put his hands on his hips and scoffed at me while I held my head up, looking at his crotch. ?You may as well all get a chance to practice. Linda says she wants you all certified. No better way than to practice on each other. They?ll count it toward your licensing hours,? he said. Oh my god. They started in on my back, pluck, pluck, pluck.... After hours of it, using two handsets at a time, I got up and marveled at how my back felt both hot from all the plucking and cool from lack of hair. While looking that over, I realized my equilibrium was off. I had to sit down on the edge of the table and look myself over while holding on. Shoot, my breasts were puffy. The areolas appeared a quarter inch bigger around. It could have been my imagination. It probably was the lack of food. After all, the rest of me had shrunken to skin and bones. In proportion the boobs were larger, maybe because everything around them was less. Then again, the skin wasn?t quite right, either. I had to stagger up and walk over closer to the light because they?d turned off the unnecessary lamps while plucking my hairs. Shit, the tanning lamps on the table must have given me a slight tan. But wait, they?d been doing my back. I blinked a while and tried to remember what the skin had looked like on my fellow blackmailees. Their skin looked a little darker, too. Apparently that prison loaf was doing something to us. I asked Betty, ?Do I look different, somehow?? ?Your cheeks look fuller and eyebrows a little rounder. I didn?t want to mention it,? he said. ?What about the skin?? ?It?s probably all that prison loaf. Everyone?s kind of tanning.? ?In this cave?? The more I looked at his face, the more I realized he didn?t look like himself, in fact. It was subtle, but I thought he?d picked up dimples, of all things. Strange what starving half to death did to a person?s looks. But then again, his chin seemed smaller. That was odd, not looking like the result of our near-starvation diet. I stared in the vanity mirror that we almost never used, and studied myself. Jesus, I looked different. Not a lot, but just in the nuances of the face. And I was darker for sure. Almost like a Middle Easterner. What the hell! ### The days passed with that nurse showing up to take more blood, blood we desperately needed, being so famished. She took more photos as well, saying, ?Hummm, the whole time, then leaving without explanation. I decided that the reason we were all looking different was the diet and the extreme weight loss. It made sense because my nose was smaller, but the way my lips filled out seemed to contradict it. We worked for Marcus, almost catatonically. He didn?t spend as much time in the workroom anymore, but when he showed we were only allowed to look at his crotch, anyway. We?d come to that slowly, so it just seemed normal. He?d tell us what to do and leave for an hour or two while we slaved at our accounting. The accounts themselves had slowly changed. The companies I?d had under my control were no longer the same ones, meaning I had no personal relationships that I could put to the names. That in itself was highly unusual, but it hardly mattered. When I cashed out, I?d have to start from scratch anyway. We held out for three days before giving in and Betty squealing like a piggy to have an implant of Depo-Provera. I held out the longest, four days beyond the last of the three, but we were unable to concentrate by then, from lack of food. I was almost in a coma when the doctor came in and injected the emasculating implant. And there it was done. I had chemical pumps in me, doling out Depo-Provera, not to mention whatever gene therapy they?d tossed in, which I was starting to think was part of why my face showed slight variations, like the lips and the strange turn of my eyelids. And of course the color or olives to my skin. I?d been positively Nordic a month ago. On the bright side, we all got a great meal, chicken, potato salad, all the salad we could eat, and that completely consumed our shrinking sensibilities. Unfortunately our stomachs were tiny and the chemicals made us queasy. It was all I could do to keep half of it down. The doctor used the scales to weigh us. Debbie weighed the most at one twenty-three. I was a hundred and five. He also took blood tests and photographs and had a huge smile on his face when he left, telling Marcus that he wanted to double down on the experiment if what he was seeing panned out in the lab. ### The next list came up: 1) Pick a partner and dance, cheek to cheek. 2) Ace of spade tattoo. 3) Beta Estradiol and Progesterone time release implant. I picked the first one, squealing for it like a pig right away. It wasn?t permanent. We?d at least eat. The doctor?s last weigh-in had me wondering if we were going to die from hunger. Mrs. Tosha Brown arrived to supervise. ?Off with the lingerie.? I?d picked Amy because Debbie?s dyed-pink hair was just too much. Amy was smallest and her hair had come out darker than before and wavy. At least I could pretend she was a natural woman and not something out of a Betty Boop cartoon. We stripped out of our panties, garters and hose. All we had on were our tormenting chastity devices and landing strips. Somehow it made our red-painted toe and fingernails even brighter. Soft music came on over the speakers. Obviously someone was watching us on the video. Tosha paced around us with a smirk on her face, which I glanced at between long bouts of keeping my head bowed to only see her feet. Which were clad in black ankle boots. She wore fishnets, and a black and white-striped dress that went halfway down her thighs. Very unprofessional for a fellow CPA. ?Clasp hands, sissies.? Oh shit. Don?t they mean modern dance where nobody touches?. We did that. ?Closer. Bodies up against each other.? Amy did most of the work of holding our shoulders touch. Our chastity devices clanked together every time one or the other of us forgot to stick his butt out as far as possible. ?Cheek to cheek, bitches.? We started dancing with our eyes squinting in horror. ?One arm around on one side. Grasp hands with the other arms. Feet closer, right beside one another. Lean your head on Sissybitch?s shoulder, Amy!? She did. ?Kiss her neck.? Oh my god, she is kissing me. ?A little tongue. That?s right. Now suck up a hickey. I want to see a mean one, like one of those cups on an octopus.? She swatted Amy on the ass with her little riding crop. Fuck me! ?Use those hands to pull each other closer. I want skin to skin.? Her skin was warm and smooth, and it even smelled a little like a woman. To tell the truth, over the last couple months, Amy?s had stopped looking much like a man. Her nose was still wide, but her eyes were pearls, lips much fuller and cheeks cream though oddly browner. In fact, while dancing with her cheek to cheek, and feeling our strangely swelling breasts and areolas rubbing together, well...: My shrinking penis was almost filling up my three-inch cock sheath. I leaned over and sucked a hickey into her skin, taking it in deep and with a moan. God, I wanted to fuck her pussy so much. But noooo! She didn?t even have a pussy. What was wrong with me? She rubbed her toes over my foot, and then she ran the foot up and down my camber female leg. Squirt, squirt, ooze, my penis came, dripping out of my urethra tube. It was more of a dribbler than a blast, but soon we were dancing in it, and it caused Amy to literally purr instead of yell yuck, like would be normal. They?d turned us into fags. Or women. Fuck, I had absolutely no idea what we were. Once they left us alone, the doctor returned to take blood, give exams, and photograph every last bit of our bodies. He even took fingerprints, like they could somehow be different. After checking the results on his computer, he smiled and shook his head while snapping his fingers. ?Yes! Incredible.? Whatever that meant, he didn?t say. Instead he gave us each an injection from special vials that had our sissy names on them. ?SMARCAD1 gene, chromosome 4q22,? he mumbled like a song. Then he checked our fingers again, like it somehow related. Prior to climbing the dungeon steps to work the next day, we all felt the flu-like drag of those injections. We could tell it was another genetic thing by how we felt like our bodies were subtly trying to reject the genetic changes going on inside of ourselves. While shaving my legs for me, Amy said, ?Look at us. My skin?s two shades darker and I think they?re making Betty into a Chinese girl. You eyes, Betty. They?re?? ?I can hardly feel my balls anymore!? Betty had finished putting on her bra and spent the extra time to grab her balls and hold them forward for everyone to see before putting on her panties. She was right. They were the size of grapes, once she squeezed the skin tight to show us. Hell, I knew mine were the same. God, I want to suck her cock so much, even if it is tiny. Fuck! Where did that thought come from? I wasn?t even a little gay. Not even a little, other than kinky stuff, which didn?t count. ?I?ve got tits. Jesus, they flop. Look at these things!? Debbie complained. Sure enough, they weren?t just hills anymore, but dropped down some, like little teardrops. Soon they?d be Bs. Maybe they already were. I felt my own boobs. Jesus, another half ounce, and mine would be swinging around, too. My areolas were half dollars and brown, not pink like they?d been before, but my skin was browner too. I swear, I was a black person. Just all of a sudden it hit me. Shit, I was a black bitch. Not, real dark, but if someone were to make a call, one way or the other, I was over the line. ?It?s that gene splicing,? Debbie said. I put on my bra. I didn?t want to admit what I?d been made into. Sure, I have all those fetishes about cross dressing and such, but was I even the same person anymore? Would my DNA be the same? I held up my fingers, still a little stained from the fingerprinting the night prior and mumbled, ?Can they change your fingerprints?? ?Fuck me!? I think Betty was near to a breakdown. ?I?m not even myself anymore. Who the hell am I? What is happening to me?? Amy sat on the concrete floor and sobbed. She was dark too. Even her hair was darker, no longer dishwater blonde, but an almost blackish brown. When Debbie went over to comfort her, she looked up with huge, wet, brown eyes. Had they been brown before? I turned to the mirror and leaned in. ?Shit. My eyes are brown. My eyes are brown!? Hell, who was I kidding. We?d all been changing, and been noticing the differences all along. Maybe it was diet or those chemicals that made our penises shrink and gave us hot flashes like little bitches. We?d all lost so much weight that we were pencil thin, too, so sure, changes were going on. But now we all seemed to have come to a new realization, all at once. It wasn?t just those things, but the? ?Genes!? Debbie blurted. ?Damn, they?ve gene spliced us onto whole different people. I didn?t even know it was possible to do that much to a person. How would we even prove who we are? They got all our stuff. We look different. I don?t even remember what my own face used to look like.? Betty asked, ?What if our fingerprints are different from when we got our passports?? I had to help calm everyone, even though my stomach was in my throat. ?We?ll just get new passport. You know, we?re thinnier and a little different, that?s all. They?ll just fingerprint us again and nobody actually checks that stuff. The new prints are what matters. The latest one will work; trust me.? ?What about our paperwork? How do we even start with new credentials that match us?? Amy whined while sniffling. ?You?ve got to go to the post office, and they?ll want to see?? ?Someone?s got that. Don?t have a fit. I?ll ask Mrs. Brown about updating our credentials. They need our credentials as accountants, don?t they,? I said. When we went up to work, we took care to stop talking so much and concentrate on the twelve hour shift, typing out tiny fingers off, pink nails going click, click, click. Whenever Marcus told us something to do, we made sure to keep our eyes properly on his crotch and to bob our bodies politely. Office slaves were to be busy instead of a bother. Usually that meant he left us alone and spent almost no time in the room playing is video games on his pad. The next night they came in to do Amy?s ACE of SPADES tattoo. The guy who did it was a short Asian man. He put the thing on her abdomen, just inside form her hipbone, where a regular belt might have a chance of hiding it, but anything panty in nature didn?t have a chance. ?Next? I said, ?But only Amy was?? ?I have the manifest right here. Now, if you complain I?m going to raise a stink, bitch!? I was torn. After helping Amy up off the work table, I didn?t know what to do. Instead I just stood there, looking at the tattooist?s crotch, like was proper. ?I don?t have all night, slut!? He smacked me on the thigh. Of course I had to obey. I was a sissy slave, and mistress would be displeased if I didn?t do what I was supposed to. I sat on the table. Debbie helped me ease back. Fuck, it hurt. He kept at it, branding me with the ACE of SPADES. I didn?t dare look, and my eyes welled up in tears. Shoot, I cried like a baby. What was happening to me that had me crying so easily, like some kind of girl. Then it struck me; I was a girl. Or at least more girl that boy. I have tits, smooth skin, full lips, my hips were rounding, and my dick was considerably closer to clit size than that of a real man?s cock. I WAS A FUCKING GIRL AND AN ALMOST BLACK GIRL AT THAT. I DIDN?T HAVE MY OWN FACE, MY OWN DNA, MY OWN FINGERPRINTS, MORE THAN LIKELY. Shit! I cried all the way through my tattooing, and when they helped me sit up, I looked down to see the Ace of Spaces on my abdomen. Right over top of the two-inch ace were the letters: I heart BBC. Now I had a fucking fag tramp stamp. All four of us got tattooed, like the big betrayal. So much for volunteering. Whatever was on the list just seemed to be what came next now, no matter what. Maybe it had just become a warning more than a choice. Marcus came down with the doctor. He had a big smile and said amicably, ?Good news. Doc has agreed to do all the Beta Estradiol and Progesterone implants at the same time. These shots hurt, so doobies all around.? He lit up a reefer. Shit yes. I took the next toke, soon as he passed it. We handed that around, and he lit another. Two reefers later, we were stoned too much to think. In the meantime, the doctor pushed his injector into our shoulders and squeezed in these huge time-release things about an inch long. Two for each of us. When I felt around in back, they left tiny lumps, as long as I knew where to feel. After a while, I suppose I?d not be able to find them. When we were done, Marcus rewarded us by letting us kneel in front of him while he fed us grapes that he held an inch from his magnificent huge bulge. All us bitches drooled as we ate, one grape shoved in our pie holes after the other. I don?t know what happened next because I passed out. We woke up the next day in a pile of four sissies, still in our panties and bras, but feeling very dizzy. Not from the marijuana, but likely from the injections of drugs meant to make us even more like women. Two nights, three things on the list. I have at least a couple months to go before I could demand my share of the company and cut bait. With the way we worked eighty hour weeks, non-stop, clearly my company was making ten times what it did when it had only been me alone. Damn, but it seemed like a lot could be done to us between now and then. On the other hand, what choice did I have in the matter? I?d been thoroughly blackmailed, and could only hope for the best. Sooner or later people just got tired of playing with people like we were being played with, I figured. In any event, I couldn?t get Mistress Linda mad at me, or she might alter our deal about my having so many shares. If I just put my head down and hoped for the best.... After all, what more could they really do to us, and I could always have the tattoo removed. Mastectomies were probably easy, given they did those all the time...maybe. I could possibly even have the same doctor inject me with my old DNA. Then I?d be back to normal, right? Hell, maybe he had DNA that would make my dick twice as big as before. The thought of that brought up a wee chuckle. No, make it a triple, just to keep up with Marcus, who has a delicious cock. Shit! What had I just been thinking? ### The next list came up: 1) Makeup Training 2) Genital Support 3) Personnel I?d not seen or heard our mistress on any of the screens in a week. In fact, only Marcus seemed available. Even our work was slowing down, and there had been signs of transferring some of the bigger accounts to another accounting firm called Sam Numbers Inc. Marcus came into our work room with Mistress Tosha Brown at her side. We were startled to our feet, where all four of us lowered our eyes from Marcus?s crotch level to the boss?s feet. We curtsied, and said in pitch high voices, ?Morning Mrs. Brown.? ?Oh my god, what cute grey uniforms. I?ve been so busy with the new company that I?ve missed most of the changes,? she said. ?I?ve got the whole operation running smooth as silk, Tosh. All the boobies are coming in, skin nice and soft, and those voices are more natural than forced, I?m guessing,? Marcus said with pride dripping off his lips. He?d made us into pussies, and was clearly proud as a rooster in his own new henhouse. ?Pinstripe grey. Perfect. Put a little white hat and an apron on the darlings, and we can get some maid work out of the bitches without need to change a stitch. It just so happens, I?m in need of some spring cleaning across the way.? ?Take these three,? Marcus suggested. ?No, that?s alright, Marcus. I?ll just need these two for the big shop. Drive these two over to get makeup and such.? ?Yes ma?am.? ?Betty is better certified, I recall, so she can couple with Sissybitch.? ?That?ll likely be all night and half of tomorrow,? Marcus said. ?If it?s anything like the last batch.? ?I?ll bed down this pair at my place and have some cleaning looked into. We?re taking them tomorrow.? ?Sissybitch and Betty go with me then?? ?It?s ripe. We?re almost done with the accounts transfer to the consolidated firm.? ?Consolidated firm, Mistress?? I had to ask, even though my voice squeaked and I thought I might be inviting a slapping or something worse. She glared at me hard, though I was mostly guessing because of how I had to keep my eyes down at her feet. I bobbed a curtsey out of pure fear. ?We are expanding and making use of efficiencies, Sissybitch. Is there a problem with that? Surely, as an accountant, you understand business.? ?Well, Mistress, I do have a large stake in the firm. I know you have done a lot to expand and increase the profits...I mean, from all the work it?s obvious. I?m just curious. Ma?am, as to where we sit financially.? She started pacing back and forth in front of me. ?Oh yes, of course. The...um...what is it...: Joe Anderson Accounting. That little springboard has born enormous fruit for our accounting ventures. One could say it has itineration into ten times the firm, in no more than half a year. Do you still think it was a bad move for profits, bringing me and Mistress Linda onboard, Joe? Now that your revenues of a few hundred thousand has been turned to millions?? ?That is wonderful news, Mrs. Brown. Thank you very much, for helping so much.? She turned to Marcus. ?That?s what I love. A thankful sissy. ?She is turning out very nice,? he said while reaching over and putting his hand under one of my breasts and jiggling it in the bra. He chuckled. ?So, send Bettty and this bitch to Genital Support. They?ve booked us for tonight at ninish or so. I?m turning these two over to...? She smirked. ?...Asian studies.? Marcus laughed. ?I?ll drive our little Betty and sissybitch myself. Both bitches. Today, Makeup Training or whatever. That?s still on Kelso, back door of the three story?? ?Oh, come on, you?ve been there the last five batches.? ?Well, they might have moved. This round is taking twice as long as normal.? ?Only because of that DNA study they added.? She glared at my body, up and down and smirked while shaking her head. ?Which is obviously fucking amazing.? He pointed at us. ?Goddamned going to make lots more use of it, too,? Tosha said with glee. ?We plan on making a wad off the ID switches.? IDs? What was she talking about? I dared not move, and Marcus was telling me to not talk anymore, as well, by reaching over and gently pinching my other nipple through the fabric of my plain worker?s dress and bra. ?God, that?s so gay,? Tosha said to him. ?They?re fucking women now. At least while dressed up. In fact, pretty much when naked, too,? he said. ?Yeah, but I know where these limp-dicked white cracker bois came from. I?ve got their birth certificates.? Marcus didn?t say anything, like maybe he was making eyes at her to not say so much. So why? Why not say so much? What had she said? Finally he said, ?Oh hell, don?t worry about me ruining the goods. I got this bitch?s wife doing pelvic thrusts on my dick every night. Won?t be long I?ll have her on the streets, paying me to keep her corner safe.? Fuck, he said that while cupping my ass with his big black hand. I didn?t have much of an ass. Well, actually I did. It was one of the body parts I still had meat on. Ass and tits. Otherwise I was a rail. Fuck, the more I realized things like that the more I realized I was becoming a woman. But what had he meant about my wife. I wasn?t married. Did he mean my ex? Had he not been joking about calling her up? Shoot, didn?t he live in the apartment that had been made out of part of this expanded house?my own house?parts of which I hadn?t seen in months? Was he fucking Jane, or just fucking with my head? And if he was, was she actually living with him, right above our dungeon bedroom, torture chamber and isolation laboratory for the token lab rats? Right above us? That sometimes banging, like he was fucking a woman to death in an old bed, what had that been? Marcus?s big cock inside of Jane?s body, filling her up with his thick, creamy semen, swimming black babies into her womb? Tears came streaming down my cheeks when I thought about how much no woman would want me after these changes. ?She?s getting emotional about stuff. See what you did? Now, leave me to my job, Tosh and.... It?s not like I don?t appreciate your business end of things,? Marcus complained. ?But I?ve got to manage these bitches. Ain?t I been doing it good? Mostly I don?t even touch them. They?re as close to unspoiled goods as it gets, dontcha know. Don?t you think I got it covered and can keep my dick in my pants?? He grabbed my long locks of now-black curls and pulled my head back so I had to look up at the two of them. It was terrifying, looking up and wondering if I was going to be punished for it. He let go of my head, so I could return my attention toward Tosha?s feet like was proper, instead, THANK GOD. I was trembling like a leaf. I?d almost peed my panties. The tube down my urethra didn?t make it easy to retain continence. I leaked a little. The dress helped keep it from being noticed and the top of my stocking absorbed the rest. ?Just be firm. We can?t change the world by making mistakes, Marcus, particularly when they get to the point where we?ve invested so much,? Tosha said. ?Well, who came in here about being loose of the tongue,? he was saying to her as he escorted her out of our tiny work room. All four of us sighed relief. Then he came back in and said, ?Debbie and Amy, come with me. It?s your fucking birthday, bitches. Time to get on to the next stage in life. We got a house for the lesser meat, where they do the makeup and testic?I mean Genital Support, paperwork, everything. It?ll be a rough couple days for you pussies, but the rainbow is awaitin?. You submissive cunts are into this sort of thing anyway, or you?d not be where are, so I?m hoping you?ll love it.? Those two shuffled out the door, maybe a little too eagerly. Wait a minute. Had I gotten information about the company or not? I should have just asked, mixed company or not. Damn, but I was more confused about the company than ever. Maybe I needed to go hunt down Tosha, take a risk at being bold and just say I wanted to sell my stock at half price and bail. Hell, I could thumb a ride to Florida and live on the beach until I figured out what?s next. I?d not had much when I?d started my last business; the one now being bilked by my insane idea to indulge a money mistress. Like hell; I didn?t have the balls to cut bait early and confront her; who was I kidding. Shit, I was a scaredy-cat bitch. What the hell. I found myself pacing in place, bothering Betty, who?d gone back to pecking out numbers. I was a wreck. Two months left to serve with the three item list game, and then things would loosen up, she?d promised. Maybe more, maybe less; I?d lost count due to malnutrition and stress. Marcus he came back for me. ?Get your cunts moving; I ain?t got all day. We?re taking you two to the prima donna house for employee processing, so consider yourselves lucky.? Betty and I followed his ass out the door and for the first time in months, turned right, cutting through the door leading to the previously unvisited apartment portion of what used to be my house. Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Twelve. My ex-wife was lying on the couch, passed out. Her mouth was wide open, an empty beer bottle lay sideways on the coffee table, and clear as day, needle track marks had made parts of her arm, near the inside of her elbow, purple. When had she become a heroin addict? Her skirt was hiked-up so high it might as well have been off, and under the pink blouse the woman was braless. God, I?d loved those tits so much that I could almost taste them. And I wish mine were so big. What had I just thought, dammit?? Marcus walked up to her, reached down and lifted the hem of her mini- skirt even higher. He grabbed her crotch and rubbed. She moaned, opened one eye and her body jerked before she settled. ?Oh, Marcus. Ummmh. More, baby. Let?s fuck. I want your big black cock.? ?Not right now, Jane. I?ve got business.? He quit fingering her cunt and pointed the wet digit at me and Betty. She sat up, pushed her skirt down and ran a fist over an eye to rub out the salt. ?Jesus, Marcus. Not with the transsexuals watching. What?s the matter with you?? ?Hey, no lip, woman. Maybe I hold out on you today to help you get your head straight about who?s the man around here?? He patted her on the cheek. ?I?m just saying that it?s just for you, honey. I don?t need these tramps.? She grabbed his big black hand and kissed it up and down before taking a finger into her lips and sucking it hard. I was looking at this out of the corner of my eye, seeing it pretty well until they started to blur from tears. ?Oh god, look at that sissy cry,? my ex-wife said after she took his finger out of her mouth with a smack of suction. ?Fucking wimps get themselves into this. Then they regret it. Sad fucks.? ?Happens every time.? Marcus chuckled. He grabbed her up, held her by the back of her waist and pulled her into a French kiss. The whole time Jane was looking at me as I stood beside Betty with my head mostly down and my hands folded in front of me like a good maid. Good thing my peripheral vision worked. We?d come in plain grey uniforms, broad white aprons, tiny lace hats and only one inch practical heels. Our hose was white and dark hair tied back in ponytails. As always, we stood with our feet nearly together, shoulder-to-shoulder, with our backs as close to the wall as practical. Maids were to be as invisible as possible and to leave space for adults to move about in the room. My room. My living room, in fact, though it didn?t look anything like my living room. It was bigger due to expansion, and had Marcus?s things in it. Nothing was the same. But then I noticed one little scrollwork iron stand in the corner. That had been mine. Was it still mine? Shit, it was the only thing I?d seen of mine in months. It could have been the only thing of mine left on the planet. And it had pictures of Marcus and maybe some of his relatives and a candy dish on it. Fuck, I?d die for a piece of candy; screw the stand. In the meantime, Marcus had turned Judy around and was grinding her ass while cupping both breasts. It felt like he was cuckolding me with my wife. More than likely he was thinking that, too, though there was nothing I could do about it. Hell, he was flaunting my cuckiness, just to rub it in. Maybe I should tell her who I was? ?Now, what do you say about maids looking on?? Judy asked. ?Maybe the bedroom.? ?Oh, come on, Judy. It?s like they?re nobody. Look, they?re not even looking at us. It?s kinky having them stand there, unable to touch their clitties. I got them trained to not even hear what we?re saying. If you asked, they?d say they don?t even know what I?m saying now.? She turned around in his arms and tilted her head back to take his lips. While doing so, she kept sneaking a peek at us. ?Shoot, they?re black girls.? Marcus back away from her a bit, and he grew a smile. ?Not really. We just made them into darker skinned bitches. True black?s a shade darker.? ?Seriously?? she squealed. She came over and ran her hand over the skin of my arm. I started to perspire and struggled not to fidget. My ex was touching me. She was looking into my eyes and studying my face. She touched my lips and then felt one of my breasts. ?Good god!? she startled, like she?d recognized me and while glaring at my face. ?It?s not even makeup or tanning stuff. That tanning approach turns you kind of greenish.? ?Nope,? Marcus said, coming up beside her. ?It?s genetics. We fucking made these bitches into whole different people. Nobody will even know who the fuck they used to be.? ?I?m you?re ex-husband. I?m Joe,? I imagined telling her, but didn?t actually say. Of course, Marcus might not like me spilling the beans, given he was acting so coy about it and obviously wanted to see if she could figure it out on her own. If I spoiled his fun I?d likely regret it a thousand times over, so I remained mum. As well, should she find out, I?d discover a new level of mortification. ?This skin is goddamned amazing, Marcus. You?re lying; she?s not really a white girl, more like an arab or maybe Mexican.? He shrugged. ?I?m taking them to in-processing in a couple hours. A few final touches, and they?ll be perfect white bois, pussified and suddenly white gurls, no matter what the shade.? Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! ?Did you do that useless ex husband of mine like this? Did you make him a black girl?? ?This is a special batch. I hear that corporate is looking to do most of the next ones this way, though. I mean, look at it. Take a close look. It?s pretty amazing what they can do with gene splicing, nowadays, don?t you think?? He unbuttoned my dress a few and lifted one of my tits right out of the bra and into the open. She touched it. ?God. Not even implants. They?re so natural. Almost as big as mine.? ?This was a pretty solid white boy, not so long ago. Now look at it, other than that short white pecker wobbling around down in those panties. Properly pee-pee collared to match the one on its neck. Chastity. Now the boi is...useful.? ?Was the thing married?? she asked. ?I think it used to be, once. Probably she got tired of its kinky butt. Almost every white man is into something kinky. That?s how Mistress Linda finds them all. It?s not like you have to hunt for the kinky white boi. All you need to do is find a way into their computers and figure out how, specifically, they?re fucked up and vulnerable. We got whole teams picking them off, one at a time. I?m thinking we?ll snag them all, make pussies out of the whole white race.? ?Mistress Linda?? She said. ?I?ve never met?? ?Let?s not talk about it too much in front of the drones,? Marcus said to her. ?But, how did she get to be so successful. Is she even real?? My ex persisted. Marcus smacked her on the ass, shutting her up. Then he asked me, ?Did your ex get fed up with your kinky shit, bitch boi?? He smiled at my ex and said, ?We call this one sissybitch.? ?Sissybitch, answer your master,? Jane told me, forgetting her questions and getting into the verbal assault, like she?d been converted into his gang member. ?Yes Master Marcus and Mistress Jane. My ex got tired of me.? ?Shit, its voice is so high. She?s a girl. Really. You just sewed on a little meat.? She pointed at the camel toe of my crotch. ?Part of the training. God forbid it should utter a middle C. Basically there?s nothing of a man left in this one. Totally erased, other than....? ?What about this one?? ?I am a useless sissy, too, Mistress,? Betty half curtsied. She wanted attention because it usually meant better food or less trouble. ?Wait a minute. How did sissybitch know my name? I don?t want trash like this knowing my name.? ?Well, you?ve been my main ho for a while. I oversee this batch every day. I might have mentioned your fine ass,? Marcus seamlessly said. ?I?m no ho!? ?I got you doing two men a night. What do you call it, bitch?? ?That?s different. I?m not a whore; I live with you.? ?Well, sure you do. It?s just I don?t mind sharing, and you got to pay for your smack, since we ain?t married.? She started scratching her arms. Damn, she was an addict. ?How about just you and me tonight, Marcus. I?m not feeling good.? She got all clingy. God, she?s completely forgotten about us, acting as if us sissies aren?t even human beings listening to her. How quickly she?d become conditioned to slaves as the furniture! Even while acting like a desperate tramp, we were nothing. It also seemed certain we?d not been the first sissy bois she?d encountered while out amongst Marcus. ?Sure babe, I ain?t pimping your ass tonight. Just us. I got to take these two finished products in, though, so I?ll be out till morning, I suppose. Maybe just a couple tricks near midnight, you know, to raise funds for some happy time, and we can go see a movie tomorrow before your next trick. You like those, don?t you?? She frowned, but after more scratching said, ?Alright. But tomorrow we?? ?Sure thing, sweet tits. ?Can they at least clean up the place, while you?re waiting for their appointment to take them to processing, can?t they. I feel bad, I?m telling you?? She hugged herself and her addiction. ?Of course.? Marcus patted Betty on the ass. ?Someday I want to see what you do to these pathetic things at this employee processing place you keep talking about.? ?It?s secret. Only black folk are allowed inside. It?s cultural, I?m saying.? He laughed. ?Just the usually yearly physical, testing, insurance forms, employee evaluations. Crap. ?Oh, please?? she begged. ?You got all those white fags going in there for that?? He ignored her and frowned down at us two sissies. ?Get busy, bitches. We only got an hour.? ?Yes, Master Marcus,? we both said in full sissy soprano, as we curtsied. We scurried to the hall and found the closet with the cleaning supplies. Seeing that I had a broom already in hand, Betty walked to the kitchen. ?I?ll do the dishes.? She scampered, of course, with her hands flat to the floor and pinky fingers sticking up, little steps that let her ass sway and appear dainty. Pursed lips. She?d have given me an erection, should I still be able to get an erection, and should I not have been doing the same thing. Goddamit, I couldn?t believe it. My own ex-wife had almost raped me with her eyes while checking me out, and she?d not had a clue who I was. Had I really changed that much? While sweeping the bathroom out, I chanced a moment of gawking into the mirror. It was the same mirror. It wasn?t the same person looking back out of it. I mean, not the same guy at all. My eyes, nose, mouth, cheeks, hair, skin, everything was not the same. Maybe my ears were the same. But, with long hair, usually they weren?t all that visible. And, I was thinner. A LOT thinner, except in the lips and boobs. Like anorexic thinner. God, those tits appeared round instead of tiny dimples; bigger than A?s. Maybe bigger than B?s. Marcus looked in while passing through the hall, and before I could jolt myself out of my stunned revelry, he patted me on the back and said, ?They get two meals a day, where you?re headed. Fill all that girl meat right up.? He smiled. ?I?m taking Betty over and will be back. They want you sissies one at a time.? I had no idea where he was taking us, but I had a really bad feeling about it. I had to get out of here. I pranced back to the cleaning closet and under the pretense of switching out the broom for a sweeper, found my old little filing cabinet in the corner. It was fireproof and had a tumbler lock. Thank God they?d not taken that. So, there was the mirror and the corner stand and this, the only three things in my life that still existed?I didn?t count my ex-wife because she didn?t even remind me of her. Marcus had already claimed her, marked her and turned her into a crack whore. I knelt and ran through the numbers. After forever, the thing opened with a satisfying click. My stomach dropped with glee. I recalled having a couple thousand in there and my papers: Birth certificate, SS card, dental records, the works. I could just take those, snatch the car keys, run out the door, and find a lawyer?s office. Let him wrangle with it. After a week or two in a motel, I?d catch a bus out of town and find myself a law firm or something, from which to start a new life as their accountant. Law firms always wanted an accountant on retainer. I had it all figured out in a second; I was thinking so fast. But the money was gone. And the file that I?d kept all that in was missing. I scooted around a stack of pictures, all black people, Marcus?s people. He had his birth certificate and SS card in there. I lifted everything, and even looked through the picture. Nothing of mine. Dammit! Where was it? Where was anything. Anything! I looked around for what must have been an hour, finding nothing. Footsteps in the hallway. I shut the door, and spun the tumbler. Then, as I stood back up, I saw the big wooden frame behind the fireproof cabinet, and I realized it was missing a picture. All that remained was a frame. It used to hold the last picture I?d saved of my mother and father. I looked down at where the empty frame stood, between the cabinet and the wall, and nothing. I didn?t even have a history. Since I was the last offspring and keeper of the books, it was as if my parents had never lived. Their lives had amounted to nothing, not even a memory. I picked up the vacuum cleaner. ?Hell, I was over an hour taking Betty. Get your ass busy, bitch!? Marcus was likely sensing my delays. He had what appeared to be a half dozen personnel files in his hands, folders of some sort. I saw White Sissyboi Amy #825 marked on the margin tab on one of them. He appeared to be headed toward the little office I?d seen next to the bedroom. 825? What did that mean? Were there that many Amys? I scurried on past him and started sweeping the hall then living room carpets. While watching a boring Housewives show on TV, my ex lifted her feet so I could move the footstool to sweep under, but otherwise kept playing a video game on her I-pad, half watching the television. Shit, the dress had ridden up so much I could see her panties. I?d once fucked that pussy. I could taste it in my memory and feel it gripping my cock, back in the day when my penny had actually gotten up and bigger. We?d been a couple for years. ?Hey, you!? Jane said. I curtsied and kept my eyes downcast. ?Jesus. You remind me of someone.? I swallowed hard. ?Just in the eyes a little. Are you sure we never met? Maybe relatives?? ?No, Mistress,? I said in a wee voice. ?I wonder....? She stared around, like she was looking to see if Marcus was around. ?On your knees. Hurry.? I fell, of course. She pulled her panties aside. ?Eat me, bitch!? She reached out and grabbed my steel collar and pulled me into her cunt. I started licking. ?Come on, get it in there. You feel like my stupid ex. I have to explain everything. Get busy!? She pushed at the back of my head with her hands. I ate her deep with my tongue and sucked her hard with my lips. ?Yes! Now, just the clit. Twirl around. Put your finger in my pussy.? I ate her for several minutes, until she started to buck. Then she pushed me to the floor, adjusted her clothing and picked up her channel changer. ?Go stand in the corner, slave.? She giggled, when I ran to plant my nose there. ?On your knees, sissy!? I fell. ?God, I?m telling Marcus we need one of the sissies full time. You could to half my tricks.? She kept playing her game, as if I wasn?t there, like I didn?t matter. Like I wasn?t a man, seeing her partially naked. How could she not even remember how my mouth had felt on his pussy? After an hour of my knees starting to hurt, she yelled, ?Why aren?t you working?? I returned to my work, doing my best to not be obvious and draw her attention again. She kicked some papers onto the floor and smirked when I fixed them up. ?How fucked up can a person get,? she mumbled. ?I don?t know where Joe went, but next time I see that bastard, I?m asking Marcus to do to him what happened to you, bitch! I hear they can fuck up any man they want, using their tricks.? I silently moaned as I swept past her, back into the hallway and into the bedroom where she daily fucked Marcus and maybe even her customers. Once, before the house renovation and a ways over nearer the hall, she?s fucked me, like a goodbye pity thing. Now I didn?t even think my limp dick could do it to a woman, maybe not even after the blue pill. What was Marcus doing to her? Was he going to make her a total junkie and slowly convert her into a full-time whore, or did he intend to keep her as a pet? And if so, why make her a junkie? No, he was processing her, smoozing her, suckering her into something like a pimp-whore thing, destined to a flop house. She?d be making him cash on the streets, no time. He had a dozen already, I bet, doing tricks out of some house. And what could I do about it? I wanted to get her aside and speak reason to her, but all the bravery inside my body was missing. I was helpless until I could make my time and finish the deal, regain my sense of self capacity. Maybe in a couple months I could find her and put her into rehab. Or maybe a year or two. It?d take a while for her to hit rock bottom, and it?d take me a while to get back on my feet, even if I did make a wad on selling my half of the business. So, I cleaned. I cleaned fast and thorough, and I gave Marcus no reason to complain about my maid service because I planned on him being pleased and in a mood to respond when I asked him about copping out and selling my part in the business...later when he wasn?t so busy with my ex.... I?d offer him a small cut. No, I decided, not two months from now, but right now, later in the car. On the way to whatever was next. It couldn?t be too bad, where we were going. He had said two whole meals a day while I was there, so it was likely the whole weekend. Maybe without any of the three- list provisions that had altered me into this unrecognizable womanish sissy. Speaking to him about it was a big start, and he?d listen. Working without decent food left me thinking poorly. I needed to figure it out with a clear head?something I?d not had in a while. I needed to break free from my trance, even if it cost me and I only walked away with a few hundred grand. ?Go in the bathroom, check your makeup and change into what?s hanging,? Marcus finally said. ?They put yours and Betty?s appointments three hours apart, and I fucked up, bringing her in late.? ### We made it to Marcus?s car. I?d been in a daze from the sunlight, and embarrassment, even though my house was off a highway and only a few neighbors lived within sight of my front. The front was different, with a huge parking lot that filled the space between my house and the one to our side which I suppose I?d bought and Mrs. Tosha Brown now lived. I?d learned how to walk in the heels with a sway in my hips, locked elbows and the palms parallel to the ground for balance. Out of habit I kept my lips pursed. I know it was stupid, but we?d walked like that so long, I almost couldn?t have stopped if I?d have the courage to try. Where would I even put my hands? The mini skirt showed the bottom of my ridiculously long and frilly bloomers, as well as the straps of my garters, of course. The fishnets had a long black seam up the back. I?d wished he?d let me wear a bra under the shamefully transparent white blouse that my breasts tended to pop out of if I as much as bent over an inch. The top was missing all the top buttons. My titties jiggled, having me feel the hard nipples on the fabric. Obviously the hormone implants were still cooking off my maleness and making me into a woman. My skin was smooth and facial hair no more, even the stragglers that used to come in. I?d curled my hair with the curler, as told, and applied eye shadow and deep-red lipstick, which I assumed was expected. Marcus had given me a little pink purse with a long strap. There was something in it, but I dared not look. The front and lawn of my own house was unrecognizable, having had an addition to the front, and the added sign, like a ten-foot fan over the doorway, saying Brown Accounting. I?d been completely unaware of the name change to my own company. The entrance appeared to be around the side, a section of the house I?d not even been in, avoiding Marcus?s apartment and our slave office entirely. A window over there showed an unrecognized black secretary, but of course I couldn?t see much. Someone was walking in as we departed, in fact. Oh shit, it was Mister Blain, from the concrete works. He paused at the side door to see my ass as I sheepishly duck into the passenger seat of Marcus?s Lexus. As we drove out, I didn?t see my car anywhere. Even the trash container around the side was one of those big dumpsters. With the landscape so different, nothing of it reminded me of my home. It was like driving away from a place I?d never knew existed. I cleared my throat. ?What?s on your mind, Sugar Tits?? ?I...I...I...wonder if I could ask you something, Sir?? ?Sure. We?re out of that house now. Things are gonna be different; just you see. You?re on your way.? That was reassuring. ?Alright, well, I had a deal about the business. If I played along. You think I?ve played along, don?t you, Sir?? ?Well.... Sure. I think you?ve been super, Sissybitch. You even helped me keep the others in line. Easiest job I ever did.? He smiled over at my legs, crotch and tits, and then turned his eyes back to the road. ?The deal was that I got half the stock, and after I did all that stuff in the house, I could just call it done and take my half and...you know, take off. You guys win. You get the company and the house and no hard feelings. It?s alright by me. Really. It was all my fault for wanting to do that Teamviewer thing. Stupid mistake, Sir. I know that.? ?I thought you wanted to wait until the company got bigger? You?re three months short.? ?Yes Sir, but I?m not feeling right. I?m worried about my health.? I lied, maybe...: ?I might be sick. It?d be better on everybody, and I?m not all that interested in copping a million bucks or anything, just my little share.? He reached over with one hand, real fast, and cupped my left boob. After fondling it a moment, he applied a thumb and finger to my nipple and tweaked it a bit. ?Are you sure. That business is a real money maker. Now you got these. I say you made out in the bargain, seeing you?re so hot.? Fuck me. What was I, meat? Damn if I had the balls to tell him to leave my tits alone, though. He was the man and I was nothing. I wasn?t even a woman. Just a thing. I needed him to give me advice and help me get away. I had to pretend to like it, or I?d have no contacts at all. I smiled a little, like I liked being molested. Then I whimpered, also like he probably enjoyed, ?Yes Sir, I know. It?s just all I can take. I have to cash out or there?s not telling what I?ll do.? I felt like I had only one chance, so I took it: ?All I want is a check. Someone buys me out. The business is growing, so it?s a sure investment. I?ll walk. Just the way I am. I can cash it and take a bus. I?ll be long out of your hair. Arizona, I?m thinking.? ?Who?s going to cash your check. You don?t have ID, Sugar Tits.? Fuck me. Now I was Sugar Tits. ?Well, maybe you can cash it at my bank, sir. I?ll pay you five percent to cash it; you know it?s good. Once I sign it over, it?s your ID that will count. Another five percent if I can impose upon you to find my birth certificate and social security card, or help me renew mine.? The driver?s license would be less than worthless, given I no longer looked anything like the picture. I?d go to the courthouse and get it sorted out and then book town, just like I?d promised. Get a new license with a new picture of my sissy and now-brown face. Full lips. Tits. Even if Mistress Linda disclosed all those sordid pictures and things, I?d be unrecognizable. Nobody would believe it had been me, if those Teamviewer pictures and videos were exposed now. The new looks maybe played in my favor some?embarrassingly sissy as I was. That old me would be embarrassed, but if a tree fell in the forest and nobody was still around.... ?Alright. I?ll set it up.? He did, too. He took his hand off my boob, pulled out his cell phone, right there in traffic, as we worked our way into the city. He punched an autodialed number and said, ?Tosha? Sissybitch says she wants to close the deal and bank out, like you promised.? Damn! My heart was racing. I couldn?t believe it was going to be this easy. I strained to hear the phone, though he had it up to his ear. ?Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Alright, I?ll tell the sissy. Yes, she?ll be delighted.? He hung up. ?She says she?ll set it up for tonight. Ten o?clock at the processing place we?re headed to. Eventually. But you?ve got to go through the processing first because she says she set it all up and Mistress Linda hates it when you cancel things and don?t fulfill the contract.? ?Contract.? ?You know, the shit you?ve gotten yourself into and already scheduled for the day. She scheduled it already. She?s busy and doesn?t want to have to call people to cancel this late.? He leaned over and whispered, like someone might overhear. ?Linda?s a little bit sadistic, too. She wants to play with you, get some more pics for her album, just mean shit. Don?t blame me. She feels invested,? He said in a more solid voice. ?I mean, look at you. What the fuck? Everything can be reversed, but you?re so different, nobody even knows you. Even you don?t know you. What?s a few more hours of this shit?? ?What shit? Where are we going?? I felt a little panicked, and yet happy. Total extremes. What was it, nine in the morning. Thirteen more hours? The county records office wouldn?t be open for another twenty-four. If he dumped me on the street now, I?d have to find a flop house. Until I got that check, and cashed it, I was a fly in a field of frogs. Maybe it?d even work out. What could they possibly do what was worse than they?d done to myself? It?s just be like a normal fuck-me day, and then I?d get a fresh start bright and early, find a thrift store for some frumpy clothing that hid my body. Female clothing, I suppose, at least for now. Then I?d visit the county, board a bus west, license place and OVER. ?First stop.? He pulled into a parking lot of a storefront building in the south side of the city, not my favorite neighborhood. When he parked, he said, ?We?re only stopping her for an hour or two. Then it?s off to the processors, which is just basically fun with sissy?s time. We subcontract out this part.? Subcontract out? What the hell? How organized are they? We got out and walked toward the front of the building. A half dozen black youths across the street pointed at us and whistled. ?How much for a suck job from that one, bro?? one of them yelled. Marcus turned on them and stared. ?Be polite to my property!? ?Hey man, I?m just asking?? The kid had to be all of eighteen. ?You?re renting that ass, ain?t ya?? ?No, boy. I?m taking her in here. Now, if you leave your 411 under my wiper blade, I might find you something fine, but now I?m busy with my new cunt.? ?Hey, maybe I will do just that. Maybe I will.? The other boys whistled agreement. ?Let?s go,? Marcus said, grabbing my elbow. We came fully around front. The windows showed a dozen tattoo designs. Over the door it said, Renfro?s Tats and Piercings. Fuck no! I hesitated a half step. Marcus kept good pressure on my elbow. ?What the hell, Sugar Tits. Now ain?t the time to get uppity.? Just the hint that he was displeased with me got me going along again. I needed him to cash my check and help me get through to ten o?clock and maybe tomorrow when the banks open. Shoot, I would have opened the door for him, given that. And with my heart in my throat with dread the entire time. If I ran across the road, those six boys would probably have me bent over a ten gallon trash can in half a minute. I?d have been no less his prison bitch if we?d been behind bars. Tattoos, piercings, what the hell. Nothing in here was good for me. I already had the ace of spades to figure out how to get rid of, probably with skin grafts or whatever. Now, this. Marcus gave my ass a little love pat. ?You?ll love it.? I walked in, composed, with my hips swinging in my mini and my hands level to the floor, like a stupid, clueless bitch, which I definitely was not. A thin black man of about forty sat up from his chair next to the register. ?Hey, Marcus. Been expecting you. First one today, huh. Oh, this one?s...not so white.? ?A gene experiment, Ren. The doc went gangsta? on her.? ?Really? Heard about that weird shit. I bet Bill there was nothin? to it.? ?Not much, I hope.? So, the gene doctor had changed me. How would I reverse that? What did it even entail? I found myself gawking at the color of the back of my own hand. Shit! I was a black woman, a lighter skinned one, but still dark. ?My god, it done did its thing, lookin? at itself like it ain?t never noticed what it is.? He chuckled. ?She got all doe eyed and mystified on us there a moment.? That got him laughing his ass off, obviously at my expense. He said right into my face, for me supposedly: ?Fuckin? look at the tits on this thing!? Then the man seemed to have a different thought and spoke to Marcus: ?It?s almost like it ain?t right, fucking over a black bitch and making it into a piece of meat. Where?s our social responsibility?? ?Hey, it started out being white. Inside it?s white as a cracker, and now it?s got a pink pussy. More or less. Least before the gene splicing thingy it was white. So that?s all that matters.? Marcus gave him that winning big smible. ?Yeah, there?s that. Forget I mentioned it. Easy money, the way I look at the thing.? Fuck me. I was money. How was I money, other than what I?d already lost my savings and house and business and pants? Maybe he just meant Mistress Linda was paying him. Obviously. I was just one big ball of nerves. The man took me in a back room which looked like a doctor?s room with white cabinets and counters all around, two chairs and a dentist chair in the middle. Very clean, with a license on the wall. He pushed the curtains back closed, giving us privacy, probably should someone come into the store. ?Lay your sweet white ass in the chair, Fuck Meat. I got appointments all day, so we?ll need to rush this,? the tattoo man, Ren, said. ?Hey, no rushing. Do her right,? Marcus said. ?You got two more today, don?t you?? ?No never mind that.? The tattoo man shrugged and reached across me when I sat. He put an air mask over my mouth and nose. ?Pain free,? he said while smiling at me. ?Mostly.? ?This man don?t hurt a fly more than necessary,? Marcus said to reassure my nerves that were vibrating so hard the chair shook. Then I smelled the gas, and things got very hazy. The last thing I remembered was the tattoo guy slipping a needle into my arm then pulling open my blouse and feeling around on my tits. Why? Why not just let me go? Was calling to cancel all this really that hard for Tosha? Darkness. Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Thirteen. God, I was flying. The room swam. Something they?d stuck in my veins was clearly giving me a ride. Down near my feet, both men were staring at my crotch. Damn, my legs were up in stirrups, like one of those gynecological chairs. ?Cheer up, Sugar Tits. We?ve taken off that chastity cage,? Marcus said, I think. Shoot, I was in the third dimension. I tried to mumble something, but they had something in my mouth. I felt around with my tongue, trying to spit it out, but it like it was.... Shit, my tongue hurt a little. What the fuck was it? The thing clinked against my teeth. Shit, something was piercing my tongue. I couldn?t actually feel it all with my tongue, because it was through it, but the more I found myself able to concentrate, the more I realized it was some kind of ring. A big son of a bitch. Maybe an inch diameter, thick metal, not that rinky-dink stuff. If I could move my hands, I could maybe feel it, but they felt strapped to the arm rests. ?Just one more?? Crimp! I felt a pain down near my ass. Maybe a little north of my ass. What the hell was that? Both men were down there admiring something. The tattoo guy fiddled with the place down there. It felt like he was sewing the spot he?d holed or something, and then there came a flash and heat on the inside of my thighs. ?Uh!? I groaned. ?It?s awake,? Tattoo man told Marcus. ?It?s just as well, I?ve arc flashed the ring, and all we need to do is put in the tweener.? Tweener? I felt my now-free dick in his hands. Jesus! My dick was out of that horrible chastity thing that had kept it impaled and miserable for months. Whatever was going on was actually worth it, just to know I had my now-tiny dick back. But he pulled it down, apparently by some kind of new ring that I now felt in my pee hole. There came a second flash and more heat. He stood up straight and smiled down at my crotch. ?There, the tweener?s flashed. Makes that tiny ball sack look almost like a pussy, long as she keeps em straddled with the meat.? ?I love your work, Ren. That ain?t never coming loose.? What ain?t never coming loose? And what was wrong with my nose? Without good focus, all I could so was try to look down at my face cross-eyed. I wiggled my nose and pushed up my upper lip. Fuck. A Goddamned ring was hanging from my nose. It felt like the same thick metal, maybe an eighth inch or thicker, and a good inch diameter, too. ?She?s figuring it out,? Ren said with a smile. ?Ain?t nothing but a little jewelry,? Marcus said. ?Lots of people do it just for fun. Hell, I got me a nipple ring.? He pulled up his shirt and showed us his little stud. Ren chuckled. ?Women don?t know what to think of it.? Marcus smiled at me. ?First time I fucked your wife, she was all into sucking on my nipple ring. After way too much of it, I had to smack her a little up the side of her head. ?I ain?t no woman!? I told her. Got her all confused. But, she was sitting on my dick and I said it with a grin, so it was no never mind. She just kept pumpin? up and down, getting that white pussy all converted over to the big black cock.? Damn, but my tits hurt too. My eyes were so watery that I had to blink a gazillion times to clear and look down at my chest. Raising my head was a chore with whatever drug they?d put into my veins. Fucking heroin, maybe. My tits had rings in them. They were small, maybe an inch around and thin metal, at least. I was going to take all this hardware out, soon as I got free. What, nine, ten hours or so. I realized I was crying my eyes out, but I sniffled, trying to put it into perspective. A little jewelry, the man had said. That?s all it was. A pair of chain cutters would deal with the rings, soon as I had a fifty to buy the tool. My earlobes felt numb. When I wagged my head a little, hoop earrings dangled. I could see the reflection off one sparkle across the cabinet to one side. The bitch they?d made me into finally had punched earlobes. And hooker earrings to go with them. Marcus appeared to be observing my reactions: ?I like those big earrings, too. Last time I had your wife, I took a hold on her earrings and liked to choke her to death with my chicken bone. If you know what I mean. Handles.? Ren laughed. ?Aint? nobody can deep throat like a black woman.? ?Ain?t true, dude. Lots of white bitches can swallow just as good. I took one so deep, once, I don?t think she even knew I came a bucket load straight into her stomach. It just went right down and never saw light of day. My sperm didn?t even stop until it got her pregnant.? ?Now I know you be just braggin? like a cheap-assed pimp.? ?I ain?t no cheap-ass pimp.? Ren smiled. ?I?m done. I?ll just give the bitch a quarter squirt more, so you can handle her better on the way out.? He leaned over my arm and pushed the plunger on the syringe that he?d taped to my arm. A little of the white fluid entered me and the room almost instantly swam again. Heroin for sure. In a renewed daze, I pushed my tongue out to drool. The ring came out with it and touched my lips. They felt swollen, like someone had been sticking needles into them, all over, bottom and top. I pushed my tongue out so far that I could feel both lips, almost every inch of them, and something had definitely made my lips feel funny. My tongue felt funny. Everything about me was weird. I wasn?t even a man, anymore; no wonder I felt funny. I giggled like a tipsy cunt. All the while, they unstrapped me, took out the syringe, helped me back into my panties and pumps and buttoned up the bottom three buttons on my shirt, like it was dress-up day at the doll house. I had to hang onto Marcus just to walk through the tattoo place and through the door. Maybe I was a pound heavier because of the unwanted hardware. My balls rubbed my thighs, pushed out by the way my dick had been secured to my ass. I had to walk with a wider sway or nut myself with every step. Across the street, one of the black teens remained. He gave Marcus the black power fist and said, ?Way to go, bro. One more white fuckers goin? down. Black man gonna rule!? Marcus nodded to him condescendingly and helped me stagger to the car. The five inch pumps were no help. Still, I worked at, at least being lady-like with my hips and hands while staggering to the car and falling into the seat. A police car came by and stopped behind Marcus?s car. He said, ?She?s had one too many. I?m taking her home. She?s drunk as a skunk.? ?You know his name?? the police woman asked while still in her car. Shit yeah, I knew his name. He was going to help me get out of all this and cash my check and maybe even take me to county records to sort it all out. I nodded. ?Marcus. He?s my man.? Only the word came out with the ring clicking my teeth and a horrible lisp because of the thing felt like a marble in my mouth. Truly, my mind was not working, but good enough to know what was going on, I suppose. ?License?? she asked Marcus. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and showed it to her after coming up to her window. ?Marcus,? she read. ?Alright, sir. Just checking on things. Women get abducted all the time. There?s been a rash of missing persons? reports. Sorry to inconvenience you folks.? She drove off, unblocking his car. And, good riddance, too. What could the cops possibly do for me, now? Everything I needed, Marcus was going to give me. Nobody else could help. If the police got involved, I?d end up out on the street with nothing. No way Tosha or Linda would cut me a buy-out check if I ratted. Had they even done anything illegal? I?d probably end up in a dumpster if I implied things weren?t Kosher, and deservedly so for being stupid. Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Fourteen. The destination appeared to be on the west side, near the warehouses, trucking and railroads. They had a security fence and a little guard house. The guard took one quick look at Marcus?s ID and waved us in without us fully stopping. Right behind us, two more cars pulled through. They only stopped one, for a couple seconds. The guard maybe knew everyone. We rounded a good-sized warehouse and then pulled past a row of fifty or so parked cars. Several people were filtering in, and the car behind us pulled in as well, but we continued on. I kept looking around, noticing that the five people I saw were in normal street wear, mostly black workers. We slipped past four semis backed to the docks, and then on around to the far side of the building. Customer Entrance. It looked pleasant enough. A wheelchair ramp and regular set of three steps, level walkway then three more, up to the double glass doors with a sign overtop: M L Enterprises. Thank god it wasn?t another tattoo parlor. Speaking of which, I reached up, grabbed the mirror and before Marcus could object, took a look at my face. Damn! My lips had been tattooed a deep red. In the light of day, my skin looked even darker than I?d thought. Definitely a two-shades out of ten darker than my old complexion. My red lips seemed a lot fuller and my nose a little wider than I recalled. Maybe the nose ring made it look wider. No way did I look like my old self, though when I moved side to side I tended to see a few of the old features. Maybe it was just that I?d lost so much weight. I couldn?t have been over a hundred pounds, total, counting my big tits. ?Whatcha think?? Marcus asked when he pulled the keys out of the ignition. ?I look like a woman,? I said in my much-practiced soft and femininely-passive voice. He pointed to the car clock. ?Twelve noon. I?m dropping you off and going to get some lunch. I?ll be back to check on how things are going. Later, only ten more hours from now, your big meeting and the payoff. Don?t fuck it up and make complications. Do what they tell you, and it?ll be a piece of cake. Seriously. I?m not worried about it at all.? And he did appear calm. ?Yes, sir.? He gave me one last up and down stare. ?Damn, bitch, but you are one hot piece of ass.? He smiled at his joke and got out, went around, and even helped me out of the car. I was still a little woozy. I wiggled my butt and swung my arms and kept my lips pursed as we walked to the door, not because of the compliment, but out of habit and a little fear. I had to kick my own leg with a heel to tell myself to cut so much of it out. I was out in public and had to quit acting so sissy that it wasn?t even feminine. I?d been so conditioned. Still, when he held open the door, I had to sissy walk because of the heels. ?Are you holding out on me, bitch? Swing that ass. Keep those pinky fingers up. That?s it, whitebread. Fag yourself.? ?Sir?? What was he saying? He grabbed my elbow and leaned into me. ?Look, sissy, you have to perform. Otherwise, these strangers are going to know you?re not a girl. That will embarrass us both. ?But you said fag, sir?? ?Well, of course you?re a fag. You didn?t think I meant that kind of girl. You?re not quite that far, yet. You don?t just declare a thing like that.? He smirked. ?But, you said...fag.? ?Yes, fag, gay, queer, transvestite. That?s more accepted today than in the past, and most people even treat cross dressers very well. That is, as long as you sell it and don?t leave them thinking you?re just some guy wanting into the lady?s room. That?s when they treat you like shit.? ?Ohhh,? came out in a whimper. ?There you go, white boi?? He smiled ??faggot. And keep the high pitched thing going. Seriously. Shoot, half the people in here will even think you?re a girl, so that?s going to make it even less embarrassing.? I turned back toward the door. ?Sell your pussy, show your tits.? Good thing the lobby was almost empty. Only three black men were seated on the soft chairs, of which there were a dozen. They reminded me a lot of Marcus, big, competent, but not necessarily judging me. Two kept right on reading their pads. Up at the counter, it reminded me of a doctor?s office. Three receptionists sat behind the counter, two white women, middle aged near fifty, and a black woman of maybe twenty-five. ?You get this one, Mary,? the young black woman told the oldest white woman, who was seated at the first computer. ?You must be...? she leaned toward me and Marcus. ?Joe Anderson.? Thank god she?d whispered that. I nodded. She smiled nicely. ?Have a seat, gurl.? I did. ?She?s got you from here.? Marcus went to have a seat amongst the other four black men who were waiting. ?What kind of office is this, anyway? If you don?t mind me asking?? The older white woman smiled. ?We do all sorts of social work. There?s a doctor to check on how you are doing, and a psychological workup. Aptitude. A few practical exercises. Then skills and job placement.? I think I was more confused than ever. ?Well, uh?? She reached across the short desk and touched my arm. ?Don?t worry, honey. It?s over before you know it. And, we do it all anonymously. In fact, you are, from this moment forward...? She took a look at her clipboard. ?Not Joe but Miss Nancita Hernandez. See. It?s already marked on the entrance form. Nobody will ever know you?re,? She whispered, ?Joe Anderson.? ?Alright.? ?Keeps it scientific. In case someone were to know you.? ?I see.? Actually she put me very much at ease. ?You will need to sign these forms.? She handed me a pen, then turned the clipboard around and pointed to the place where there was a line and a big X. ?It?s in Spanish.? ?Of course it is...Nancita.? She winked. This could be trouble. I hesitated. ?And the form under that, etc., five times. I only put the final pages on the clipboard, as to make it easier. I?ll reassemble the documents after you sign.? ?Yeah, but what am I signing.? ?The services. Don?t worry, it?s all clinical and free. Nobody is charging you for the blind studies. Or maybe I should say, nobody is charging Nancita.? She chuckled. I tried to make out the text, but it seemed like legal non-disclosure stuff, like the last page of something more meaningful. When I flipped to the next form, it was very similar. Hell, I had no idea what any of it was. The black woman came over and frowned. Her tag read Sara. ?Is there something wrong?? I got a start. Maybe I?d been conditioned to be afraid by Mistress Linda and Mistress Brown, but my heart doubled in speed instantly. Even the older lady grew more stern. I started with the pen. The white woman said, ?N A N C I T A, then your temporary last name is H E R N A N D E Z.? After the first one she said, ?Perfect. Now, page two. Good. Three.? She flipped the pages for me. ?Excellent. Four and five. There we go, Miss Hernandez.? ?Did you forget something?? the younger black woman said in a scolding voice toward the white women. The older woman became flustered. She stood. ?I was just getting to it, Mrs. Stewart. Sorry if it?s taking so long.? ?We have the next appointment coming in, in,? She checked her watch. ?six minutes. Hop to it, bitch.? I was a little floored to hear her speak to the woman that way, given their age difference and how professional the office appeared. The older woman seemed cowered. She said, ?If you?ll come around, we can finish the formalities.? I followed her around to the far side of the long counter, and there was a scale that she had me step on. ?One oh three.? ?Jesus!? I breathed. ?We print each person in the study. Mostly because of the alias.? Right there in a cubby was a tiny desk and a digital print scanner. I put all ten fingers into the tiny glass squares and a light burst below them, taking my prints. Right next to that, she backed me to a corner with a black background and a height chart. There she took two digital photos of my head and upper body, front and side. ?Usually they want you to take off the jewelry, but we?re more accommodating,? she said while checking the pictures and the prints on a computer. She had me wait while she went back to her desk. I watched her reassemble the forms, putting my signature sheets in back of each. They looked much thicker, maybe a couple hundred sheets. The printer had my prints and photos, and those went into the stack. She came back with an armband, like in a hospital, and snapped the orange thing onto my wrist. ?There, all set.? Someone was coming in the main door, now on the other side of the big room. The other white lady, sat up straighter, like she was the one to process the next customer (whatever that meant). ?Hurry and finish this! You?re taking entirely too long,? the younger black woman screeched. The woman processing me grabbed me by the elbow, and led me to one of four doors down a short hallway. Each had a number over it. ?What?s the rush?? I whispered, while looking back over my shoulder. Shoot, a black man with a white sissy was coming in. The man had this one on a chain leash. I?d never seen eye shadow that intense before, and the lips had been lipsticked black. Clearly that one was a hooker. She was all doe-eyed and I think frightened. Maybe she didn?t know what this was either. ?They only give us twelve minutes between clients.? She opened the door with the number 3 over it. ?It?s more efficient. If people start to mingle, it can be awkward. Here we are; this is your waiting area, until the professional comes to escort you to your testing station. It will all go quicker than you imagine.? She leaned in and whispered, ?Twelve minutes between clients...four waiting rooms...do the math.? The nice older lady even handed me a bottle of water, cool and boy did I need it after the sting of all the piercings had started to cut through the numbing agents. I sauntered into the waiting room and took a seat on the long chair that was really a toilet. A sign on the wall read: Lube the enema tube and insert it into your pussy. Employ the button on the tube, to activate. Once full, expel then clean your cunt. If you have to use the restroom first, do so and flush. Lube is available. This is not optional and delay will not be tolerable. The tube was dangling beside the toilet chair. A set of wires attacked to a plunger button, halfway up. I grabbed the half-used tube of jell, lubed it up and inserted, soon enjoying liquid filling my empty ass. Nothing was in there, so I expelled easily enough. Why it didn?t even occur to me to disobey was likely the product of so many months of being compliant and in fear of disobeying them. In minutes I was done with that, and waiting on the seat. The far wall looked like a one-way mirror. To my right was the door I?d come in, and to my left was another door. I got up and checked both doors, locked. Best to just sit and wait. It was like one of those doctor?s offices where the nurse?s aid put you in a room then the nurse, then the doctor.... The mirror turned into a television, or at least part of it. A black woman appeared. Behind her looked much like the setting used by Mistress Linda. There were some pots with flowers, and a pruning station. It was a little different, like the same shop, but over some, maybe. ?Hello, Sissybitch,? the black woman said, like she knew me. I didn?t know her. She was thinner than Mistress Linda and at least a decade older than Mistress Brown. She startled me when she raised her voice: ?Don?t you know to respond, ?Yes, Mistress Linda,??? ?Yes, Mistress Linda.? God, the metal ring in my mouth had me lisping like a fairie. I tried to keep my eyes down toward the bottom half of the screen, but the new woman had me very curious. ?You act like you?ve never met me, bitch!? ?Sorry, Mistress Linda.? Mistress Linda? The lady looked down at something, maybe a piece of paper, maybe some kind of pad, and she frowned. Then she looked over her shoulder and seemed to be speaking to someone else, but the sound had cut off. The next thing I knew, the video quit entirely. What the fuck? I took a swig of the water and reached up into my bra to adjust the nipple rings. They burned. The one in my nose seemed to always catch my vision when I looked down. Shit, I had rings all over my body, in the worst possible places, and the numbing agent was gone. ?Hello, Sissybitch!? I looked up, seeing the real Mistress Linda. ?Hello Mistress Linda.? ?How are you settling in?? ?Fine, Mistress. What is this about?? ?Oh,? She looked down at something. ?I see you are at the facility.? ?The facility?? ?Testing and evaluation. Now I?m up to speed.? She grinned. ?You?re going to just love it. Go with the flow, no matter what, and it?ll be a snap. It will only seem hard until you adjust. Light at the end of the tunnel; that sort of thing.? ?Yes, Mistress.? I decided to plug, ?I can?t wait until my meeting with Mistress Brown tonight.? ?All of this is your fault, you know.? She smirked. ?You came to me, wanting that Teamviewer blackmail kink.? She went back to scanning whatever she was looking at on the table. ?I understand, Mistress.? That came out, ?I undethand, Mithtwus.? The tongue ring was way too big. The first thing I did, once liberated, was to hack that out with some bolt cutters. Before even going at the rings holding my penis aimed at my ass. ?Oh, I see that you are to meet a Mistress Brown tonight, after the facility. Excellent.? ?So, you don?t mind that I take my small share of the profits and move along? I mean, I hope it is fine with you.? I rushed to add, ?I hold no grudge. It?s all my fault,? in hopes of appeasing her. ?Oh, certainly not. It?s been nice doing business with you, Joe. Wait.? She held up a finger, while looking down. ?You?re at the facility. New name, new name...new name. What is the alias they gave you?? Shit, I forgot. Apparently she noticed the puzzle on my female face. ?Oh, I have it. Nancita Hernandez. Don?t forget, Sissybitch. Nancita. That?s a new one.? She smiled. ?You got that DNA thing, too; not just the hormones. Shit, Sissybitch, you look just like a Nancita. Brazilian, maybe. If you told someone you was Joe, no way. They?d call you a liar on the spot.? To that she laughed. I sighed, knowing she was right. When I leaned over a little, to the part of the wall that was still a mirror, I realized I definitely was not a Joe. I was a Nancita, fucking through and through, from my heeled toes to my call-girl hair. ?Well, it has been good doing business with you, then. Thank you very much. I?ve sucked a bundle out of your ass, if it?s any consolation.? ?Uh, yes, Mistress.? ?The company will want to give me a raise.? ?The company, Mistress.? ?Just fucking with you, Jo...errr I mean,Nancita.? ?Yes, Mistress.? The screen went blank. Well, so that was just for my edification, or what? First the wrong Linda, then the company line? Did my mistress work for a company? What company? I found my leg shaking as it kept bouncing with nerves. The longer I sat there, the more I thought. They?d ripped me blind, my pension, my house, my car, my ex-wife, my body, my soul. What was to keep them from shorting me my share? Nothing. But then again, Tosha Brown was a CPA, and we had standards. I had to keep my hope up. Whatever I took away from this, a million, a couple hundred thousand, it would have to be enough, and with Marcus?s help I?d get a few credentials and book out of town. Start over. That was the ticket. Just the next few hours, and bang! I?d have to start off as this half-black woman, but ease into being a guy again. It was just weird thinking of myself as a transvestite going the other way; all my old fantasies had been male to female. And, just that, fantasies. No more would I have those fantasies. I?d been cured, flat out: do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred dollar cured. Female to male cured. I hoped they could surgically install a penis pump; I was going to get one. I sucked down the rest of the water bottle. It tasted great, but then again I?d not been eating and drinking the ritz lately. Things felt a little woozie, but only a tad. I?d not eaten in a day. Two meals a day, Marcus had promised. Starting now, I hoped. The door opened. In walked a boy. Well, maybe eighteen, black, close-cropped hair, all of a hundred thirty pounds. College freshman doing part time, I thought. He had a sheet of paper. ?Miss Nancita Hernandez?? He looked up at me as if studying me for flaws, then he checked my wrist band for the right ID. ?Yes....? I had to say, ?Sir.? ?Uh-huh.? He reached up to my metal neck collar and clipped some little square thing onto it. I could feel it on the inside of my collar, like a tag. ?Good. Now follow me. Do exactly as I say, or there?ll be trouble.? He pushed a little button on a pager at his belt. I felt a tiny jolt at my neck. ?They said I could do that, just a touch. I don?t mean to use the zapper on their property, but they give these out to take precautions. Someone had to lay into one white boi, yesterday, they told us. He was probably being a wuss. Damn near fried it?s ass, I betcha.? ?Yes, sir.? I kept my head bowed toward the boy?s crotch, like I?d been trained. I could do this; just a few more hours. Whatever it is. He snapped a red leather leash to my collar and led me into the next room. God, he was shorter than me, half my age and not much to him, though I?d lost so much weight.... The room had a couch, four plush chairs, a couple side tables and a mirror along one wall. Behind me were four doors, likely the same four rooms marked on through four in the hallway the receptionist had taken me into. Two chandeliers hung with fake candles and paintings of men standing beside naked women adorned the wall, like couples getting their portraits taken, only the men were all black and clothed and the women white with their pink parts on display. ?I?m supposed to put you in five.? ?Five?? That?s when I realized that the whole back wall was lined with doors. Each door had a lever handle for opening and a tiny square window of black glass. I thought I saw something move in the doors windows down the way, like people were inside. At first the wall had looked like nothing but paneling. Eight doors in total. The things were side by side, two feet wide, making the wall something like sixteen feet wide in total. Hell, this whole room was door city. We?d already passed doors eight through six, and the young man pulled open door five, for me. ?The instructions they gave us was to have you hitch down your panties and lube up.? He handed me a condom full of some kind of white cream. When I just glared at it, he added, ?Your ass pussy.? Fuck me. I took it. While taking it in my delicate fingers coated in pink nail polish, I saw past the condom and into the box-like room, maybe three feet deep, two wide, six and a half tall. In the back was a kind of seat, but not a seat, just a place where the wall jutted out maybe thirty inches up. The flat, plank seat was slanted at a 45 degree angle, and a dildo centered on it. Black. Veiny. Realistic. Six inches long. Maybe one inch diameter. ?What am I supposed to?? ?Do I have to spell it out for you.? ?Jesus.? ?Lube your stupid white-boi ass, turn around, and sit on the dick, idiot. How hard can it be?? He gave me a tiny shove, more of a threat than anything, and I teetered on my heels, back into the entry some. There he waited. ?Ohhh,? I moaned with a wobble in my voice. I pulled my dress up some, slid my panties down a little with one hand, then while not looking at him at all, pushed some of the lube out of the condom and onto my finger. ?Look at me. I want to see your eyes when you fuck yourself with your finger. I paid good money.? ?What?? ?I paid good money for this. Thirty bucks! Don?t ruin it.? ?Ohhh!? I reached around. ?Look into my eyes. What happened to that pursed mouth you had before? I?m supposed to make sure you look right.? I pursed my lips in to an O. Then I touched my ass with the lube. ?Get it in there deep,? He smiled ear to ear, ?bitch!? His breathing picked up. One hand went to his crotch, where he rubbed. I put the lube onto my ass. ?Shit, they were right. This is fucking hot. Turned a white boy into a fucking pussy is worth every cent. God, I need a job doing this. Get some more. Put it in there all the way.? I got some more, glaring at him the whole time, and shoved it into my ass an inch. ?Squeeze the rest onto the dildo, and have a seat. The green light comes on when you?re all the way down and got some weight on it, they told me.? They told him? What was this about paying to do this? Was he some kind of customer? What was this place all about, really? He pushed me back by grabbing one of my tits and I was now totally into the space. I turned around and lubed up the dildo, not wanting to sit on that thing raw. ?Just turn the thing inside out and slip it onto the cock.? I fumbled around with it and did that. ?I?m your boss.? He smiled huge. ?Have a seat, cunt.? ?Ohhh!? I kept my dress hitches with my elbows and wiggled onto the silicone dick. It slid into my ass. Once in all the way, a small green LED lit up in the corner by the door. ?There we go. All the way down. Fucked yourself, didn?t ya.? He handed me a small washcloth. ?Here, for your hands. They don?t want the place to get messy.? I cleaned off my hands and he took the cloth and cleaned my fingers. ?Now they say you have to keep your hands behind you, on the seat, or there?ll be a penalty.? I put my hands back onto the platform. It really wasn?t a seat, angled at 45 degrees like it was, and sitting on it was only halfway between sitting and standing. It felt weird, holding my hands back like that, almost like being handcuffed, but not. The boy chuckled and produced a penis pacifier. He wiggled it in front of my face while wrapping its cloth necklace over my head to around my neck. The little cock on it was maybe an inch diameter and two long, but a pronounced bulbous head and a penis slit. Black, of course. The thing turned toward my lips and fit perfectly because I already had them situated in perfect cocksucking roundness. ?They said you got to make sucking sounds. They check with some kind of sound technology.? He pointed to the green light, and there beside it was a tiny bug-like thing, likely a microphone. A bigger round thing, two inches wide, might have been a speaker. I started sucking harder, making a smuck, smuck, smuck sound of sucking the plastic dick. I?m sure my whorishly painted eye were round orbs of embarrassment. ?Fucking hot!? He took out his cell phone to snap a flash photo of me. ?My bros are going to have a cow when they see what I did on vacation.? After fiddling with the camera, he turned it sideways, and I realized he was making a little video. Bros? He looked almost disappointed when he checked the time on his cell phone, shook his head and closed the door. It sealed me in with a click. With the door closed, the space seemed much smaller. I had to lean back onto the dildo, just to make good space for my head that leaned almost onto the tiny blackened window. I could see out and the whole room just fine. Looking at it, the thing reminded me of some kind of frat-house hang-out room. The boy left via the door on the right, opposite the one we?d come in. A moment later another boy entered on the right. This one was fat and also young, maybe twenty. He seemed very curious and looked at all the windows, squinting, likely seeing ghosts of our faces, before going to the door I?d come in at. A few minutes later, he came leading another white sissy by a leash. This one was chubby and tall, not much of a looker and clearly a man. The shirt dress, gartered stockings, heels and pink lipstick made him ridiculous. The puff-ball blonde hair topped the absurd off perfectly. Elevator music was whining strings in my room by then, so all I could see to my left was him talking to the sissy. He produced the condomn and the rag, and the sissy slipped from my view into room six. Clearly sissy number six was finding a perch on his own dildo. This went on two more times, until new young men had all deposited a sissy into each room. There we eight white slave cunts sat on our silicone cocks, sucking our plastic cocks, listening to lame elevator music while fixed into a position appearing eager to watch through the tiny windows like perverts gazing into a world of college hell. I realized that the couch, chairs and tables were on the opposite side of the room, kind of like this side was a dance space or something. Something what? Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Fifteen. The young black men filed back into the room just outside our doors, one, two three... eight. They shucked their pants and took seats in boxer shorts, all around the room. There were just enough seats. The window before my eyes turned opaque, and letters appeared: Instructions for social experiment 43: 1) Sit all the way down on the dildo and pull up at least four inches, at least three times per minute or a light will illuminate outside your door. The dildo seat is fitted with a heat sensor, knowing if you comply. 2) Make squeaking sucking sounds, as if sucking with great earnest. If no sounds emerge for thirty seconds, the light outside your door will come on. 3) When the light comes on outside your door, it will illuminate for five seconds and the door will unlock for its duration. 4) Any man who notices the light may open the door, and you will be required to do as they bid for ten whole minutes before a bell will sound and you must be returned to your previous position. 5) The test will continue for ninety minutes, upon which time you will be collected for the evaluator. A light flashed on the screen, and in bold it read: Begin Now! God, I couldn?t believe the trouble I was in. I started to suck. The new ring in my mouth made it feel strange, and that hole was fresh, not entirely comfortable. It took a while to figure out how to suck hard enough to make a squeaky sucking noise. I?d forgotten to lift off the dildo, so I tried to do that, and it came up alright because of all the lube. I sat back down, then concentrated on sucking harder, ?Smuck, squeek, summmmuu.? Up again. Don?t forget. I the meantime, the opaque glass had electronically been made transparent again, and I could see the room. Suck, suck, suck. Down. All the way down. Fuck, it is in me five whole inches. I started to lift. Fuck, I forgot to suck hard. The ring in my mouth made everything feel so cluttered. Suck, suck, suck. Fuck my ass. Down all the way. No light yet, thank god. I had to get a rhythm, or what had seemed like lots of time would not be enough. First suck, suck, suck, while going down. Then I could lift and at the top, suck, suck, suck, while sitting and impaling my ass again. I couldn?t let up. Those young men, seemingly eighteen to mid-twenties, some short and mousy, a couple the size of linebackers, kept vigil on the doors, like hawks waiting for a mouse. Most of their cocks were bulging out the boxers, and one had a pecker so big it peeked out a leg hole. Apparently they had to stay over on the other side of the room, and five seconds was just enough to catch a door with a couple to spare. Someone had given them instructions, too. What did they plan on doing to one of us sissies when a light came on? Fuck me, I?d hesitated. Concerntrate asshole: Suck, suck, suck, down all the way. Back up, suck. At the top, back down, fuck my ass, suck, suck, suck. I was fucking myself an sucking on a penis pacifier so hard that occasionally the top of the round part on the pacifier ticked the new nose ring. All those rings felt terrible. Little stinging pains came because of how fresh they were. Nipples, penis head, near my ass, ears, tongue and nose. I found teetering forward so much hard on my high-heeled arches. The garters kept expanding and contracting. My lips were already numb from being tattooed red. I?d never gotten used to the steel collar that tended to chafe at the bones near my neck. Alright, just get through this, and in a few hours meet with Tosha Brown to make the payoff and meet Marcus for his help to get me to the county offices and on a bus. Suck, suck, suck, fucking down on the dildo and back up. All the men out there jumped like they were going to grab my door and yank me out. All eight of them at once. OH MY GOD! The wall shuddered under their press. A second later, the door to my right swung open. They pulled a sissy out in a sea or arms and hands. The bitch didn?t have a chance as they mobbed her into the center of the room, almost in front of me. Fucking suck! Fucking fuck yourself. Goddamn, fuck me, fuck me! I raised up almost too high, feeling the dildo almost come all the way out, so I pushed back down real fast, fucking myself deep and hard. Suck, suck, suck. ?I suggest two minutes each,? One of the men said. The man in front of the sissy boi nodded. ?Me first, in front.? ?I?ll keep an eye on the other doors. I get first on the next one.? Two men backed away from the sissy, whose panties were around one ankle. The man in back hiked up the skirt, tossing the hem onto the sissy?s back. He pulled his own shorts down and started beating on his cock, to make it harder. The man in front was at least eight inches. He slapped the sissy on the cheek with it and put the tip right up to the pouting sissy lips. The lips remained rigid, not letting the penis in. Tears ran black with eye shadow. In back, not so successful because the cock slid right into the boi pussy. The other men either waited their turn or pushed on the sissy?s back, making her bend over at the waist and keep her back level to the ground. It was like she was bent over a chair, only without the chair. The man in front slapped the sissy hard, causing the wimp to whimper. The glass became opaque. STATE YOUR FULL NAME, came in script across the window/screen. I almost said Joe Anderson, around the penis pacifier, but caught myself. With a mouth full of tongue ring and plastic penis I started to say my name, but had to take a second double take, long enough to remember it. Oh yeah, ?Miss Nancita Hernandez,? only it came out, ?Mihh MaMeha Mermanle.? It was almost impossible to talk right. I hoped that was good enough, but just to be sure, I said it again. Oh god, how long have I paused? Suck, suck, suck. I pushed all the way down then back up. The glass turned transparent. There were two new men spit roasting the unfortunate sissy from door four, including the one who?d brought me in on a leash. His slightly crooked cock slid right through the now-pliable sissy lips, cranking those lips like he needed to cum right now. It had taken less than two minutes to convince the sissy to be a cocksucker and part those pouting lips. The cheek on my side was so worn from slapping that it showed red splotches. Once the man taking her mouth got going, he grabbed her hoop earrings and used them as handles. The sissy grunted on the cock, in response to hard thrusts from behind. Finally, it fell to its knees. Both men disengaged, and two more men, the biggest pair, took places on their knees in front and behind. ?No! Pleasmmmummm!? The man in front put his whole hand on the back of her head and shoved his prick balls deep. The sissy turned cross-eyed. Then it bucked back on the cock taking its ass, likely thinking it best to get at least one of those cocks off. I could imagine. Eight cocks would rip her up bad. In a heartbeat, two men off to my left rushed forward, again startling me into thinking it was my door. Door six swung open, blocking my view to the left, but soon emerged that chubby sissy six. It was wailing loud, like it had no pride at all and wanted someone to come to its rescue. She kept almost falling when her heels bent over, and half the time she lost form with her hands, even going so far as to forget to hold her pinky fingers up. This one didn?t have any rings on her ears or nose, and when they pulled her top down to push her bra up, the boobs were sans nipple rings as well. The boobs were kind of moobish, not rounded and with no significant areolas, and shaped un-attractively. Not much of a sissy, other than a shave, curly red hair, clothing and of course makeup. They took her around, the chairs and bent her over one of them so far that her boobs dangled over with her head. The man in back squeezed some lube onto his dick while a man in front held his cock at the pouting lips, teasing his piss slit under the sissy?s nose. ?Sniff my dick, bitch! When I cum, I want you to snort it.? The chubby sissy sniffed and sniffed. When they moved just right, I could see the horror on the slave?s face. Shit, I?d been slacking. Suck, suck, suck. I dropped all the way down on the dildo, deep and fast, then lifted up almost as quickly, plowing my ass several times, hoping to make up for lost time, should I have been close to the edge of my light coming on. As long as I didn?t get distracted.... The man who?d brought me in was relieved from his pleasure of fucking sissy number four?s boi pussy. He sauntered over to in front of my window and leaned over to peer in. ?This one has a nice pair. I can?t wait to suck on those tits.? One of the two big men came up by him and squinted at me from a foot away. ?It?s pretty hazy through that glass, but I still love looking at those doe eyes. This the first time for you, son?? He slapped the other man on the back, even though they were maybe two years apart, eighteen and twenty. ?Yep.? They just kept staring at me, leaning, making my heart race a million miles an hour. Suck, suck, suck. Fuck your ass, stupid! Everyone scrambled behind the two man, and even they shifted to the side, down the way toward the lower-numbered doors. A thin sissy in a red mini, halter top, socks and penny loafers, was yanked out of his safe haven. ?Time?s up on this one. Check the door.? ?Shit, I was just getting going,? another man said, but he pulled his dick out of the sissy?s mouth and the man put the penis pacifier back into the sissy?s mouth. He led number four back to his dildo room and shut the door. Another door opened down to my right, and the fourth victim was pulled into the room, making it three now servicing the eight black men. Finally, most of them were busy. One looked up real fast, toward my left. ?Shit, we missed a light!? ?What the hell!? The man who said that punched the sissy he was fucking in the ribs, in frustration. Sara, that younger black woman from reception entered from one of the four entry doors. ?Hey! Lay off beating on the product!? she yelled at them all. ?You paid to fuck the meat, not break things.? ?Yes ma?am, one said. The others murmured agreement. ?Sorry,? the one who?d hit the sissy said. He backed off, his dick wobbling wetly in the room. A couple of the others put their hands over their dicks, as if shy to have the lady see their privates. ?You missed another light.? She glanced over toward my door. ?Be that a lesson to you. Fifty-two minutes left.? She departed the way she?d come in. Christ! She?d looked at my light. Up in the corner of my eye, I saw a similar light to the one outside, blink off. Suck, suck, suck. I pumped my ass with the plastic dick. Two more sissies were yanked into the room, each of them in different whore outfits. Each of them with their panties around their ankles. When they were done with the bitches, those panties had long since abandoned the feet, and soon five pair lay scattered on the floor. The window went opaque. Letters appearing on it read: Oinking snorts need be heard every half minute, along with the sucking sounds. Once a minute, your boi pussy must lose complete contact with the dildo then reengage, in addition to fucking itself ten times per minute. ?Oink, snort, suck, suck, suck.? Shit, the hard part was pulling all the way off, then making sure I connected squarely on the center of my asshole, then to fuck up and down faster. Snort, suck squeal, suck squeal, snort, suck. It seemed like every door opened, all at once. When I counted, five sissies were in the room. How many minutes were left? It felt like three hours had passed. I think I?d seen all seven of my fellow whores by then, and one of them three times. The men out there sensed the end coming soon, as well. They?d been busy, and not but the occasional cock was left unattended for a minute or two. They?d gone to making the sissies use their hands on testicles and holding asses, as if begging for more attention. One sissy was beating off two men with its hands. Then the first man came in one of the sluts. He?d been getting a blowjob, and he pulled out halfway through filling up a sissy?s mouth cunt, only to present his dick to the sissy?s nose and shout, ?Snort my cum, bitch!? She was, of course, terrorized, and she started snorting like a pig, sniffing up a huge wad of white cum. Between snorts she coughed the bitter sting of snot entering her brain like cocaine. Which reminded the hell out of me, ?Snort, snort, snort! Sqyeeeeee!? I was frantic with my piggy sounds. The window went opaque. Say your name! ?Miss Nancita Hernandez,? sounding like, ?Mie Nahiha Hhhhmenneehs. I don?t know what happened. Maybe I?d not been fucking my ass fast enough because I?d been drying up, but my light came on and window turned transparent. The big man who?d been peering in at me earlier screamed, ?Fucking A!? He rushed my door. The door yanked open. He rudely yanked the pacifier out of my mouth and grabbed my arm, rocketting me off the dildo with an audible plop! With my boi pussy still clinching, I scrambled into the room in my heels, doing my best to keep my lips pouted and my hands right, lest they complain and I end up punished. Mostly I was completely flustered and whimpering like a fool. ?I fucking called this one first!? the man who?s brought me in yelled. ?That ain?t the rules.? ?Well at least let me do its pie hold.? They bent me backwards over an end table. I lost complete balance and fell hopelessly, such that the small of my back smacked onto the table and everything else dangled with flailing limbs. The man between my legs leaned over and pulled up my bra, causing my tits to dangle in the blouse. Then he unfastened my buttons in great haste, exposing the boobs so he could lean over and start to suck them hard. With teeth. Sticking his tongue in between the freshly inserted nipple rings. The saliva stung. The man above me pushed my head down, forcing me to stop glaring point blank at the head sucking my tits. Instead, I found my head falling, being pushed down, now angled upside down over the far side of the end table I awkwardly teetered across on my back. I didn?t know what to do with my arms and neither of my shoes actually touched the floor The man sucking my tits leaned up and grabbed both of my legs, trying to wrap them around his lower body. ?Get them heels up, bitch. I want to see some rabbit ears!? I moaned horror. The way my head dangled, I could only see my legs to the side some. That man at my crotch helped them up even further, rabbit ears indeed, up toward the ceiling like a woman wanting to help the man fuck her deep. Shit, his dick head brushed across my crotch, where my clit was uselessly locked to the ring between my ass and balls. Speaking of which, the man at my head pushed my head down again and glared down at me, aiming his...OH MY GOD, testicles at my nose. The balls fell more and more, soon touching my nose and then my lips. ?Put them baby makers in your mouth, bitch. I want me a ball washer.? ?What the fuck is a ball washer?? the man pinching my nipples and holding my legs up in the air said. His dick was now below my junk, threatening to touch my asshole. ?Like at the bowling alley. You put your ball in the machine and it cleans it off!? The man above me laughed and looked back down at my eyes as he dropped both nuts right onto my lips and let them settle, spreading across my mougth. ?No, pweese!? I mumbled with the horrible nose and tongue rings making me feel like I was talking baby talk. The next thing I knew I has one ball right in the pucker hole I had grown accustomed to make oof my lips. ?I want one ball in there all the way, and be gentle. Open up. Big wide. That?s it. Stuff it in.? He put his hands on his privates and eased the testicle into my mouth. Fuck, it was hairy and while he did that, his wet cock dangled between my eyes, over my nose, leaking a drop of cum into my hair. ?Alright, get it in there more. Put it in your cheek, and push it over there with your tongue. Ahhh! I pushed the ball over some, and the man above me jammed his fingers into my lower jaw, pushing it down in a horribly uncomfortable manner. Then he used his hands to help stuff his second ball into my mouth. He eased it over, filling the second cheek. Amy cheeks were bulging full of testicles. ?Now, lick them nice and gentle, all over. I want them balls squeaky clean, white boi.? I had no choice. I started licking underneath, and between, and off to one side or the next. One of the other men walked closer. ?Shit, I?ve seen everything now.? The man at my crotch sighed heavily. ?Hell, I can?t get it up. I?ve done come twice already in the other bitches. I ain?t superman.? ?Move over. I?ll fuck it!? one of the smaller men said I felt them trade places between my legs, unable to see anything down there anymore, what for all the hair and flesh in my face. ?Here, I got some htotel shampoo!? My eyes shot up to scope out the part of the room north of my head. Everyone was upside down, but all the sissies had timed out and were going back to their closets with pacifiers in their mouths. Three men were milling about. One of them had a tiny bottle in his hand. ?Sure, squirt some in. I want my balls shampooed!? the man who?d put his balls in my mouth said. The guy down past the body in my way was pulling my nipple rings and poking me with his dick, but he kept missing my ass. I had the feeling he was half spent, too, and unable to get it in my virgin ass. The tiny bottle of shampoo was wedged in at my upper lip. The hand squeezed. Shampoo squirmed its way in around the testicles and I had to stick my tongue up there to stop it from streaming down my throat. Everything got slick, and then smelled strong of lilac. In no time at all, suds started oozing out from the sides of my mouth, filling my pie hole. There was no way to keep some from pressuring down my throat, then out my nose. ?Keep moving that tongue around my balls, white boi.? More jovially, he shouted, ?I?m getting a perfume wash, soap and wax job on my family jewels. Ain?t that the shit!? ?Fuck! I?m spent, too!? the man trying to load his dick into my ass said. He smacked my nuts so hard I choked down a mouthful of suds and almost bit the balls in my mouth. ?Time?s up, gentlemen!? sounded in my ears. It had been a female voice, maybe that supervisor from up front. ?Dammit! My dick still needs a cleaning.? The guy stood and pulled his balls out of my mouth, one at a time, leaving my mouth gaping and full of shampoo. ?Here. Hold that!? The man with the little bottle shoved the half- empty thing into my mouth. I had to keep my sissy pout up, no matter what horror had happened to me, so it fit in perfectly. ?Get back to your rooms, sissie!? the loudspeaker said. The only two of us left outside walked back to our rooms. At first I hesitated, but with tears rolling down my cheeks, had a seat. One of the men shut my door on the way out. ?Son of a bitch! That was worth every dime,? a short one said. One of the bigger men was also still leaving. He put on his shorts and wandered to the exit. ?That?s why the line?s so long. This place has half the bros in the hood popping in twice a week.? They went, leaving the room empty. The window on my door became opaque. Words flashed upon it: Put the pacifier back in your mouth, under threat of penalty. Fucking God dammit! I put my pacifier in and sucked. Was I supposed to make noises and make squealing sounds? Was I supposed to fuck my ass? Dammit, how much time had that taken up? I had an appointment with Tosha Brown, but time didn?t seem to be going nearly as fast as I?d hoped for. Still it was something; I just had to hang on! If I just didn?t rock the boat and managed a minute better than whatever I?d just gone through...: Suck, suck, suck. Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Sixteen. Thank God, Miss Sara, who clearly was charge, came into this area?s main room, looked around and shook her head. She went out and came back with a tiny white sissy twink. I?m guessing the boi was five- three and ninety pounds, at best. The gurl struggled with a mop and broom, but did quick work with it, as if her life depended upon making some clocked date. After removing the mop, she came back with a pair of rags and applied a more personal touch to the place, obviously hoping for perfection. Miss Sara came back in. rubbed the sissy?s head in approval, and started letting us out of our rooms. Once she had two in tow, she applied leashes to them and sent them through the same doors the men had exited. When she came to me, last, she took the pacifier out of my mouth and left it to dangle. She took note of something on her pad and said, ?You?re the one opting out after today, I notice. Just got the note. That means the full treatment. Well, at least it?s obvious that you?ve been brought all the way, almost as far as we go. These others appear to only be half done.? What did that mean? That I was more sissified than the others? I?d been thinking the same thing, but still.... ?Yeth ma?am,? I said with a lisp created by the foam in my mouth and the ring in my tongue. ?I?ll get you something for that mouth. They weren?t supposed to bring anything in here, like that soap, so you?ll need your mouth off limits to dicks for a while.? She left then returned with a water bottle. I twisted off the lid and drank. It was a little salty, but I didn?t even notice that until most of the soap taste cleared. I wished I could spit the soapy taste out, but I drank it instead, for fear of spitting on the room?s newly cleaned floor. ?It?s the water for slaves who are behaving,? she mentioned. With a half smile she added, ?Only 2% urine.? I pulled the bottle from my lips, ninety-percent finished with it. ?Don?t look so flabbergasted. It?s sterile and you can barely taste it.? The way she studied me said I?d do well to finish, so I put the bottle to my lips and sipped the rest of it down, now imagining the water less pure and kind of yellowish. Now I tasted every bit of the saltiness, while wondering whose urine was it, like it mattered. ?Hands behind your back, slave. Since you?re out processing, I need to fix you for the some work at the next station. I can see they already have you ringed for that, which is convenient. It?s why I know this is your next stop with us here at this facility.? ?Ringed?? Did she mean to say that everyone ended up emasculated and ringed like me, on their final trip through this hell hole? She tapped my nose ring. ?Tongue out!? I stuck my tongue out. She reached into a pocket and pulled out a tiny lock. Instead of a key, it had four numbers on tiny tumblers, a combination lock about an inch and a half long. She looped it through the nose ring. ?Tongue out, bitch!? I stuck my tongue out a little. She put her whole pinky through the ring through my tongue, and yanked real hard, making me have to fight from leaning over. Then she slotted the lock through the tongue ring as well, and snapped the lock shut like she did that twenty times a day. One handed. It was freaky fast. That left my tongue sticking out so far it hurt. I couldn?t put it back into my mouth at all. And it literally filled the space between my lips. I could breathe out of the sides of my mouth, with a little effort straining my tongue and mouth muscles, so I didn?t panic entirely, but it had never occurred to me how thick my tongue was nearer the back of it. ?Testing, one, two, three,? she said with a smile. ?Now, repeat after me: I am a sissy faggot.? Obviously she was sadistic and liked calling me that, because I saw her eyes light up when I mumbled, ?Mmmmmm mmmmmuuummm mmmmmmmmahhhh miiiimiiiiii mmmmaaaammmmmmiiiimmm!? ?I looooove me some black cock!? ?Mmmmm muuuuuuu mmmmmmmm muuuuuu mmmaaaaaaak kmmmmmmmm!? She smiled. ?Yes you do, don?t you. How many did you get, just now?? Thank god none. They?d even had enough and gone limp before banging my ass. Sucking down that man?s testicles had been enough to turn my face red, though, and she wanted me to give a number, so I said two: Uuuuuuuuu!? ?Really?? Her eyebrows raised in surprise. ?A racked out bitch like you, and only two? Fuck me. I?d have expected every last one of them having a piece of this.? She tweeted my nipple ring. Shit! I had to catch my breath. The yelp caused by the tweet had remained in my throat, and my words hadn?t even fully come out of my mouth, but from my neck as well. The volume of it had to be close to a whisper, even as I grunted most of it out. Talking with my tongue filling my mouth and distorting even the beginning formations of words was not in the cards. Not a single part of what formed words prior was maneuverable, to include the upper half of my throat. Since my tongue was mostly a part of my lower jaw, even moving my jaw was impossible. I felt near to a panic attack because I couldn?t even breathe thorough my mouth without contorting my tongue, and even then it provided next to no air. ?Tongue gagging is my favorite, by far. Slaves can talk better with a ball gag in than that. You can?t move your tongue or most of the throat muscles, and it?s so in the way that your mouth can?t even help by forming a shape. The air isn?t there. It?s just the perfect gag.? She grabbed my hoop earrings and smiled right into my mug from inches away. ?You are one seriously fucked over, white boi, now ain?t you. Sucking cock has to be easier than being tongue gagged, I imagine. Don?t you feel the desperation rising, slave?? I nodded as best I could with her holding my head. Please god, don?t keep my tongue like this for too long; it was terribly uncomfortable, and even forming grunting words impossible. ?God, I love my job. Now, here is the deal, so listen carefully or I will be holding a candle under your balls until they fry.? My eyes went round. She leaned in. ?Seriously. It?s my personal favorite. One at a time.? I nodded with vigor. ?Glad to have your attention.? She started to pace around my shaking body. Sweat was pouring out from my underarms. ?Strip, white boi, while I give you your instructions.? I immediately bent over and slipped off the heels, going from that to unfastening my garter hose and dropping the stockings to the floor. She helped by unfastening the buttons in the back of my dress. ?Now, here is the deal. When filling out your aptitude tests and any other suggested course work in the next session, it is much more expedient if you do everything possible to degrade yourself as much as humanly possible. And I use that word human far too liberally, if you catch my drift.? I pleaded for clarification with my eyes as she came around and watched me take my dress off a shoulder. ?For example. Should someone ask a question like this: Are you heterosexual, bi, gay or a flaming bottom boi, or perhaps a bitch dog in heat, you have to mull that over. I mean, which one is more degrading, a bottom boi or a bitch dog in heat? The correct answer may not be obvious, so you have to think about it, sometimes.? I whimpered. My dress top fell, then slid to the floor. I reached back to unclasp the bra. ?Or suppose a math test. Four plus five is which: Nine, One, rounded up to ten, sixty-nine or a negative one. Hummm...! Which would it be, a negative one or a sixty-nine. Now, personally I could see sixty- nine flashing into your tiny brain as the best choice, but a sixty- nine is reciprocal. Sissies don?t get reciprocal, unless their man wants to see two of them fuck each other. So, maybe, just maybe a negative one is the answer. Food for thought. These will sometimes be difficult questions, requiring some thinking, on your part. Do you see, white boi?? I nodded with vigor as my bra hit the floor and I stood there naked, save for my landing patch of hair, nipple and clitty rings, and ace of spades tattoo. ?Maybe we?ll give you partial credit for sixty-nine and not add too many minutes to your tongue time.? She smiled. ?We?re not cruel...er than we need to be. Pretty much it?s up to you. Shall we go on?? I nodded. Even grunting was hard while tongued. Being naked and being asked to degrade myself paled in comparison to being tongued. Whatever she wanted was fine. I had to convince her to undo that lock, and I also had to get on with this and to the other side, where I?d meet Marcus and he?d help me sort out my escape. My mind kept screaming to myself, DO WHATEVER THEY WANT, however they want, it doesn?t even matter! This was just a fucking formality before I was gone so far they?d never have a clue where I?d gone. She attached a leash to my already occupied nose ring, and led me through the door. We entered a hallway, and she finished by taking me through a door labeled 108, FINAL MENTAL EVAL. I stepped in. They had a big screen on one wall, a mirror on the far wall (likely one way), and three of those seats like you see in high schools with touch pads on the attacked table. To my horror, each seat had a dildo poking up near the middle. Obviously.... ?Pick a chair, cunt.? The one on the far end was about three inches long, white and thin as hell. It still had a human shape to it, with a knob and the sculpted veins, but clearly the dildo was a joke. The closest one was a red, jelly-filled novelty item about three inches long, too. It didn?t even look like a penis, but more like a pleasure toy. The one in the middle was at least five inches long, very thick, black and a little curved. The shape of it was very realistic. All three were glistening with some kind of lubricant. I stepped to the far seat and started to sit, but caught myself short. Oh, that?s right, I had to pick. She?d warned me to pick what was most humiliating. Alright; two can play this game. I retreated to the middle chair and since I?d already had a dildo up my ass a few minutes prior, managed to wiggle my way onto the five-inch black cock without too much difficulty. Hell, they might have made it ten inches, but that would be unrealistic. Not everyone could take something that big up their ass, other than perhaps in fiction. She kept looking at me hard, so I let my weight go and bottomed out on the chair entirely. The black thing was poking at my innards pretty rudely, and it felt strange to have something up inside me so often. I felt around at my tummy, imagining that I could feel it that way. She laughed, turned and departed, closing the door behind her. I heard a click of a lock engaging. Whatever this is, do whatever they seem to want. My tongue was hurting, and I felt so vulnerable with my airway half blocked. The woman returned with a clipboard, which she put onto my table. ?Sign these documents, Senorita Nancita Hernandez.? I started to read, only getting as far as the part that seemed to say US visa. Was I going somewhere? What was I signing? On the other hand, it wasn?t my signature. It wasn?t even my name, so what did it matter? I signed. She smiled sweetly. ?Excellent. Now the next page.? I fell into a pattern, not even moving the pages much as I penned off my signature: Senorita Nancita Hernandez. She seemed pleased, pulling off all the forms and leaving me with a couple of lined sheets. ?Now you will sign your name two hundred times. Remember how you sign your new name. You will have one hour, and it must be legible. We will provide you with a movie for your entertainment.? I had two sheets of fat-ruled paper, so I figured I?d need to do front and back, maybe three times wide. The sooner I finished this, the sooner I?d be to whatever came next and then out to my freedom. 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Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Senorita Nancita Hernandez. Oh god, my tongue was drying out and aching, even while I drooled all over my naked and chastity hooked dicklet. A flat screen turned on. The first question appeared. I started answering them, just hoping to make them happy at my cowering, so I could get out of the place. WHAT IS A SISSY?S FAVORITE COLOR: a) Red. b) Pink. c) Blue. ______pink_____. TWO PLUS NINE IS: a) 29. b) 11. c) 7. ______29_____. I REALLY LOVE: a) Cock. b) Dicklets. c) Pussy. ______cock_____. I SHOULD NEVER WASTE: a) Corn. b) Water. c) Cum. ______cum_____. THE LEAST FAVORITE PART OF MY BODY IS: a) My tits. b) My ass. c) My dangling bits. ______my dangling bits_____. MY FAVORITE FANTASY IS: a) Castration. b) Blackmailed for life. c) Being barbequed. Shit, I was at a loss what to write. It all seemed so dramatic. ______castration_____. YOU PREFER: a) Poverty b) Labor c) Rape Oh, hell, they wanted me to be extreme, so I wrote, ______rape_____. I ASPIRE TO BECOME A: a) Transexual maid. b) Transexual horse. c) Transexual cow. ______transexual maid_____. ALL WHITE WOMEN SHOULD BE: a) Impregnated by a black man. b) Put to work in a black-owned factory. c) Given to black woman, to be abused. ______impregnated by black men_____. TWO PERICHUTES ON AN AIRPLANE GOING DOWN, SHOULD GO TO: a) White sissy. b) White woman. c) Black woman. ______black woman_____/ FINISH THE SENTENCE: I ____ LIVESTOCK: a) Fuck. b) Suck. c) Am. ______am_____. I HAVE ____ EXTRA KIDNEY AND ____ EXTRA EYE. a) 1,1. b) 0,0. c) 2.2/ I took a long swallow and just wrote what the perverts wanted to hear. ______2.2_____. SLAVERY IS FOR: a) White people. b) Black people. c) Suckers. ______white people_____. This absurdity went on for a while. The questionnaire finished, and a porn site materialized. It self- clicked to a chat channel. I was soon looking at a web cam photo of a man sitting at his computer, clothed in shorts and a t-shirt. The woman walked in, and put a blue-toothed keyboard in front of me. ?The man before you does not know that his web cam has been turned on by our probing. Isn?t that interesting, Nancita?? ?I nodded and gave a snort.? She smiled at my snort, and said, ?You are to present yourself as Mistress Linda?s assistant, Nancita. You will chat with him, and whoever else we present to you on the screen. Off to the left you will see a list of mantras. When you sort out this man?s particular weakness, you will have him recite the mantra. All is being recorded. Once he has cited a mantra, you will seek his particulars. Start with idle chat, such as how hard his job must be, and what the weather is in his part of the country. Soon he will loosen up and tell you something about himself that will help us to entrap him into our web. Once you have gotten something good on the new victim, you will tell him to wait a half hour for another session, upon which time you simply close the screen, and move on to the next white boy. If you are successful with only one new slave, we will loosen your tongue as reward.? When she stared down at me, I nodded profusely, and gave a snort. ?Work hard, little piggy.? She left me alone. The man was fiddling around with a package of M&Ms, so I typed, YOU ARE SUCH A KINKY MAN. WHY DON?T YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF? WHAT KIND OF SHIRT, PANTS? WHAT?S THE ROOM LOOK LIKE? He smiled and typed: I GOT ON A DISNEYWORLD. MINI MOUSE SHIRT. I typed: OH YOU KINKY DEVIL. I LOVE KINKY MEN. IS IT PINK? Him: LIGHT BLUE. Nancita: DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING PINK? Him: HUMMMM. Nancita: HUMOR ME. PUT SOMETHING PINK ON. TELL ME WHEN YOU?RE BACK. Him: I?M BACK. He?d not even left the seat, but that was alright. I dared not tell him I could see everything. Nancita: LET?S PLAY SISSY MAID. Him: NOW I?M EMBARRASSED. Nancita: BUT YOU?RE WEARING PINK. LIFT THE FRONT UP AND PLAY WITH YOUR SISSY NIPPLES. GOD, I WISH I COULD SEE YOU, BITCH! Him: OH, MISTRESS. Shit, he was doing it. Nancita: GET YOUR DRIVER?S LICENSE OUT AND READ ME YOUR NUMBER. Him: OH, I CAN?T DO THAT. Nancita: JUST PRETEND. WE CAN PRETEND, BLACKMAIL SLAVE. IT?LL GET YOU OFF. Him: WHAT THE FUCK, MISTRESS. He reached over and opened a wallet, pulling the card out. I could see him holding it. He read: RV75375. Nancita: I KNOW THAT?S NOT REAL, BUT DO YOU FEEL WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE TO BE A BLACKMAIL SLAVE? SO DELICIOUS. He chuckled, but then shrugged. Nancita: PUSSY. I?D MAKE YOU CLEAN MY HOUSE. A Little window popped up, showing some data some other person in Mistress Linda?s organization had come up with. It said they?d IDed the license as an Ohio one, and his IP address rang to some place in southeast of that state. Nancita: I LIVE IN PORTSMITH. YOU COULD COME OVER. I?D ONLY CHARGE YOU TWENTY DOLLARS, GIVEN I?D GET MY HOUSE CLEANED FOR FREE. I?M HISPANIC. I DID HOUSE CLEANING FOR YEARS, AND IT WOULD MAKE MY PUSSY HOT TO SEE YOU IN PANTIES. Him: OH, FUCK ME. MY COCK IS HARD. Nancita: HOLD YOUR LICENSE UP AND READ THE BACK. IT HAS FINE PRINT. I WANT TO KNOW IF YOU HAVE RESTRICTIONS, LIKE YOU NEED GLASSES OR SOMETHING. IT WILL MAKE YOU TINGLE, THINKING YOU?RE TELLING ME THINGS. He shrugged and did that, soon reading all the boring crap on the back about class D license, motorcycle endorsement, but no glasses restraints. Without my touching a thing, the camera seemed to zoom in on his face, and there, plain as day was the front of his license transposed over his nose as he read the back. Every detail of it popped out, number, name, birth date, picture. Nancita: OH SHOOT, MY KEYBOARD WENT NUTS A MINUTE. I HATE YAHOO SERVICE. Him: I USE AMERITECH. MISTRESS. Nancita: I WISH TO TEASE YOU. GIVE ME THE LAST FOUR NUMBERS OF YOUR PHONE. Him: I DON?T KNOW IF? Nancita: STAND UP AND HOLD YOUR TINY CLIT AND SPEAK THE LAST FOUR NUMBERS OF YOUR PHONE, SLAVE BITCH! God, he did that, stood and said, 7823 I teased him more plainly after that, and soon had a video of him putting on his wife?s panties and beating off while pinching his nipples. I had him wait for Mistress Linda to take his life over and rob him of everything he owned. The woman came in, beaming. I caught a glimpse of her face, then, and realized she wasn?t that pretty and a little pudgy. But, she was both black and a woman, and combination had come to mean god to me, so I internally repented catching even that wee glimpse. She said, ?Very nice. I?m sure we?ll have that one on the hook in no time at all. He thought he was being coy, the looser. We even traced the phone. He said the numbers backward. They almost all do something like that. Now, you get your tongue back, pig. Reward for helping your black masters take over, one white fuck hole at a time. Aren?t you proud to have just tripled your worth, in almost no time at all? We?re taking over, white boi. Soon we?ll even be changing a few laws, creating some leverage and sealing your race?s fate forever, in this stupid country.? Shit! ?Leverage, leverage,? she mumbled as she unlocked my tongue, but snapped the lock onto the tongue ring for keeping. I half sucked it in, leaving the locking mechanism between my lips when not moving my tongue. It?s have been better if she?d put the lock on my snout ring, instead. It was just awkward to move it much. Talking seemed a terrible inconvenience, even if I?d been allowed. ?No more white bois telling us blacks what it?s going to be like. Now it?s the other way around. I?m hoping we can enslave the whole fucking lot of you. It wouldn?t even come close to making up for things.? I gave a snort of agreement, because I had no brain left and imagined she was just bragging anyway. People were always talking shit. After that, it was another man every half hour on the internet, four total for me in just this setting. Two of them succumbing to my bait, giving away something personal that they?d later terribly regret. I imagined that Mistress Linda did the coup de grass, right after. Shoot, more white men were on some sordid path to utter destruction. Probably, unlike me, they?d not have a way out by end day. I?d be poor and shaken up, but I had skills and credentials, so I was still special. This organization was big. I was starting to think that there was no Mistress Linda, but maybe hundreds of Mistress Lindas. They had a sophisticated outfit running. Programmers, hackers, facilities, handlers, lackeys doing most the self-destructive work, the whole shebang. I couldn?t wait to shake loose. Anyway, three more hours had passed with me on the dildo and suckering more men into my hell, like I had no ethics left. To say I felt guilt, well, not really; I was too desperate to just move past it to feel anything other than a headache from lack of food or water. Hours passing us by meant only one thing: Closer to shaking loose and taking a ride with Marcus out of all of this. ?Fuck yourself, pig. I?ve not seen you pump up and down on that cock since I came in here?? the woman said. I fucked myself, one, two, three, bouncing on the seat. We left the room with me on a nose ring leash. Right out in the big room next to mine, two more sissies waited to enter the dildo-seat chat rooms. One was ushered right into mine. They were using us all to recruit, like self-perpetuating chains of despair. How many white men were suckered into this? I was taken back to the reception desk, where it had all started, only now I was naked, save for my chasity lock, tongue lock, heels in hose. The garters were missing, leaving one hose sagging to the knee. As I pranced, I made sure to keep my lips pouting around the end of that lock. My eyes batted, mostly looking down at crotch level, and never into the eyes of either male or female. I swayed my hips and kept my fingers together, other than the pinky one, pointing palms down and keeping my sissy elbows straight. As I wiggled into the room, everyone turned and glared at me. No doubt my body was a sight, big B-sized natural boobs with what had become brown areolas, the size of silver dollars, more like a pussified gurl than anyone else. Down below my body had been reshaping, the hips wider, the taper of the calves softer. I was too thin to have much in the way of muscle anymore, and of course my face had been changing since the hormones. The way my penis had been locked between my testicles gave the appearance of a cunt, and that one patch of hair, my landing pad (landing pad for what?), required close inspection to make it obvious that I wasn?t a naked slave girl. Perhaps only the Adam?s apple and shape of my jaw remained to tell anyone I?d once been a man, but even that was softening more than I?d heard possible by mere hormones. The reception area was hopping with black men or women sitting in the lounge area, each either holding a leash to a white sissy or having parked the handle end of their leashes onto coat hanger poles where sissies were made to wait in congregations. They quit looking at magazines, talking to one another, admonishing their sissy slaves, and pretending to engage in business, instead looking at me, the browner one, the naked one, the super-developed one. Oh, to be sure, the others had little budding breasts under their embarrassing clothing, but I was different. I was the experiment with genetics, I realized, as opposed to just hormones and minor surgeries. Everyone who might have been clued in would be curious to see how that had worked out. Mostly the men had parked their eyes on my pussy and tits. I certainly did look more like a woman than most women. Some of the men even gave an adjustment to their crotches while they sexploited me with stares. Their sissies were dressed like hookers, school girls, waitresses or maids. They stood still, hands folded in their laps, Bambi eyeing mostly me, the only naked person around until another white boi came out of the same area I?d been in. he was led up to the same counter, more naked because of no hose. Its body was not as developed as mine, but it looked more female than male, too. All it needed was a real pussy and a womb. And thin, too; we were all so skinny; starved to death to the boi. There was a new white woman serving us, looking over paperwork and comparing it on a computer. She finally finished, handed a printout to the black lady escorting me, and said, ?Room 349C for feeding, then 372, credentials, ma?ame, followed by adjustments in B3.? ?What do you say?? my escort said, wiggling the leash on my nose ring. ?Thank the white cunt!? ?Snort, snort.? ?Show some enthusiasm! Add a squeal, pig!? ?Squeeeee!? A black receptionist next to the white one turned to the white woman and said, ?I?m a pig interpreter for whites. It said, ?Thank you, white cunt for doing what you?re told like a pale-skinned bitch should.?? She smiled at the woman. The white receptionist lady blushed and swept some of her hair down over her face. God, she wasn?t wearing a bra under the thin blouse. Areolas showed like she was naked. That was maybe one of a half-dozen white women I?d notice deferring to blacks, today alone. Was this an epidemic, or just this place? The black lady who?d taken charge of me led me to the elevator. I wiggled my hips and kept my arms stiff, working hard to keep that pinky finger up, going snort, snort, snort. Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Seventeen. We arrived at the 3rd floor, passing dozens of pairs of mistresses or masters who were leading doe-eyed sissies of various levels of passing success. The day was winding into late afternoon, so it was getting busy in this odd place of business. Customers were filling the place. I imagined I?d passed two hundred people like myself, pouting lips, wiggling asses, sissy hands, all in heels, if not otherwise dressed like sluts. Nobody protested the display, as if this was a Vegas whore house,either. We felt torment inside, but were zombies on the surface, no longer capable of rebellion. The fact is, I knew that, and I had no sense of how to change it after all my months of conditioning. Nobody, and I mean nobody, broke protocol or even smiled, which would be terrible form for any servant. It was all subservient faces of concentration, concern, worry, fear. Sweat dripping down sides or off foreheads seemed everywhere. The black mistress leading me stopped at a door marked 349, and called on her cell phone. She told whoever answered, ?That white cunt at reception sent me to feeding prior to B3.? After a pause, ?Yeah. Stupid bitch. She needs retraining, or at least her tubes tied. She didn?t even speak to me correctly.? More pause to listen. ?Of course not today. And I know she?s booked six days a week. I?m just suggesting a little residual before her next twelve-hour shift. If we?re going to make quota and beat the performance of the other facilities, so we can make our bonuses, we can?t have sissies waiting on gurneys outside B for a mandatory ten hours of digesting food, with all those enemas. Shoot, you know how putting the meat into queue hoses things up.? Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. What was she talking about? What was going on in the basement? Whatever it was, why was it in the basement? Bad things happened in basements. ?Alright. Just adjust that on the chart. Yes. We?re at Credentials now, so push forward the other parties. They?ll move to 372, now. After this we?ll take the cancellation at B3. My loser is probably starving, but it can?t be helped, and who gives a fuck anyway. I?ll personally see that my pig gets fed some Jell-o or whatever. After. I?ll work it in at 349, maybe after I drop off my follow-up slut at reorientation. Double duty. We?re banging them through this week, and I want us gold starred.? She dropped the phone into her skirt pocket while we finished the short trip to room 372. What the hell? Quotas? This was a big place, and she?d mentioned long shifts, as well as other facilities. I was an accountant, doing number in my silly little sissy head. The room was all of five by five, clearly one of maybe dozens, and just big enough for whatever we were about to do. Thank god the seat did not have a dildo in it. In fact, it was a plain, ordinary school desk, complete with one of those tiny tables that I?d always hated while a student. It wasn?t big enough to put anything on, other than a paper. Which the mistress handling me, produced in the form of several stapled pages. The first one read: Do not turn the page until specifically told to, bitch! Alright, something embarrassing, like that stupid, pointless test, moments prior. ?Normally we dress for this, but who cares. I don?t mind you fucks staying naked, once in a while.? She stood to the side and produced a little riding crop, smacking it on her hand. Whatever this place was about, was going to arrive on the big screen, filling half the wall before me, I?d be compelled to closely watch. Hours had already vanished from this horrible day. Just do what they want, even if totally embarrassing. They?d need to release me to Marcus soon, and even as damaged goods I?d be long gone. I didn?t even care if they shipped me out naked. Surely the place closed at a rational time, like most businesses, four or five o?clock, in spite of the vibe that they did long hours. I?d been an early arrival, so first in, first out. I just had to play along, and be done faster. The seat was cold on my naked ass, and air made my ringed nipples sting. I pumped my face with my tongue, hoping to please my minder, should she care. A TV screen popped on, and an old woman in some dusty town, was sitting at a table near a bar window. She had some papers in front of her. ?Do you acknowledge your daughter, Nancita Hernandez, Mrs. Hernandez? If so, just sign here. She has been granted a six-month Visa in America, but we need to ensure she is the right person,? a man?s voice said. From the camera?s angle, I could see his hand push a pen the woman?s direction. ?Si. She is my Nancita.? The woman signed the paper, and the camera leaned over, showing the form and a picture clipped to the top of it. She it was me! Or what I looked like before the nose ring and the extra makeup. My hair was straighter, prior to my current hairdo. The weird thing was how much I looked exactly like a woman. It wasn?t even a close call. How had they reshaped my wider nose and narrower chin? Then it dawned on me how incredibly effective that gene splicing had been. It wasn?t just softer shoulders. I was a different person. I wasn?t me anymore. Who was I? ?Don?t worry. She?ll be fine. She is well employed and as lovely as ever,? the man said. ?I am so happy,? my mother said. Only that wasn?t my mother. Jesus Christ, who was she? Hell of an actress, was all I could think. Likely they paid her a hundred bucks for that. Anyone who saw the video would know I was her daughter, just seeing the act. What the hell? I?m not anyone?s daughter, and certainly not this woman?s from south of the border. The TV went blank. ?I must remind you, a camera is recording your truthful response,? the lady with me in the room said. ?Your name is, for the record?? ?Joe Anderson. I?m Joe Anderson. Dammit!? I desperately needed to say, but I didn?t have the balls to do it. Whatever they wanted was the way to go. I?d be out of here, soon enough, and Marcus would take me to that bus station and I?d be a hundred miles away in two hours. All I needed to do was EXPIDITE! ?I am Miss Nancita Hernandez, ma?am,? I said, even adding in a little bit of lisp from the tongue ring, as well as Hispanic accent to make her happy. Obviously that is what she wanted. ?And why have you come to America, Miss Hernandez?? ?I seek employment.? Obviously that is what she wanted. ?Thank you. That?s a take,? the black female escort said to god only knows who. The escort tapped then turned over the cover sheet on the forms on my desk. It had three sheets under the cover sheet, the first with a picture of a person in the top left corner, a finger print and an odd sequence of numbers to complete the top third row. ?If you will look at the first paper, Nancita, you will see the picture of a stranger.? Stranger my ass. It was me, Joe Anderson. Full frontal of my face. Next to it was my finger print, I assumed. Maybe it was some kind of Visa ID form or just something they made up to taunt me. The name AKA Joe Anderson, presented itself in bold letters under the visuals, and under that was gibberish in Spanish, of which I could only make out a few words. ?We do not know this person. Do you know this person, Miss Hernandez?? ?Ummm.? Obviously she wanted, ?I have no idea, ma?am.? ?Excellent. We are making progress and will soon be finished. Now, turn the page.? I did, and there was a picture of me. Whoever the fuck I was. A woman?s face, browner, wider in the nose a bit, fuller lips, no jaw to speak of and smooth as a Muppet. God, she was so different from Joe Anderson, it was hard to find similarities, though a wrinkle here, a brow there, suggested a few small likenesses. ?Who is this person?? ?It is Miss Nancita Hernandez.? ?We do not speak in the third person here!? Her scolding startled me and filled me with so much dread that I almost swooned. ?It is me, ma?am.? ?Perhaps there is a mistake. Why don?t you compare the finger print sample with that on the first page?? ?What are you saying?? I blurted without thinking. Rather than to wait for her to discipline me, I flipped from page to page, back and forth, over and over again. They were close, but not the same at all. One whole swirl was different in a way that didn?t even require close examination. In other areas, the lines were closer together. ?Jesus! My fingerprints are different.? ?Ha!? she breathed. ?I love this part.? ?You switched mine on the first page. They aren?t Joe?s. Joe?s are on record, you should know. Ma?am,? I said, way too late and far too boldly. ?Are you going to argue with me, Miss Hernandez? After all that new DNA? You?re not Joe. Joe isn?t here anymore. And those records of your finger prints can be fixed, too. We do that all the time, now. In your case, however, we?ve found a whole new way to work with that doctor?s experiments. Those are Joe?s real fingerprints, and those are your real prints, Miss Hernandez.? She poked a finger onto the paper, as emphasis. ?I?m....? Apparently I?d lost the ability to speak. The lock on my tongue ring made it tiring to form words anyway. I sagged. ?Now let?s look at a particularly interesting and commonly compared portion of your DNA, Miss Hernandez, and compare it to this imposter Joe Anderson, who has been attempting to steal the real Joe Anderson?s identity for years. If he is ever uncovered, he will most certainly go to jail for his horrible behavior.? DNA? Oh no. There were differences there, too. They?d fucking gotten Joe?s DNA, and now they had my DNA to compare and prove in a court of law that this Joe person was an imposter. Wait a minute. What the hell had I just been thinking? I was Joe. This was getting too confusing. But, if I was Joe, how would I be an imposter. I was Joe. I can?t be an imposter? That?s who I am! A silence set in. I was someone else. I wasn?t me. I wasn?t Joe anymore. Literally. I wasn?t him. Jesus, what had they done to me? Me? Not me. Joe, whoever he was. They?d killed Joe. ?Joe Anderson?s DNA does not have those suspicious homosexual genes, either. They say there is no gay gene, but science has shown that some markers are more prevalent, and it is a combination. This Joe has no such DNA. Miss Hernandez, however, my be a lesbian.? She laughed. ?I am just joking. More than likely, were she a man, Miss Hernandez would have been turned gay by our scientist because science says Miss Hernandez enjoys the company of men.? ?Gay?? ?We will find out how well you do, Miss Hernandez; for the doctor?s sake. It is a serious study, of which you are a founding part. We are so grateful for his work. Soon, all who come through our service will get this expensive new procedure.? ?Oh God. He turned my genes gay?? ?People who are born a certain way cannot help themselves. Do not judge who you are. Who knows? Maybe it matters when these genes trigger and because of your age you will always imagine yourself heterosexual. Maybe I should say lesbian? It doesn?t matter, one way or the other. You will do as we insist and become a cocksucker, no matter what.? ?Oh, fuck me, fuck me. I?m so fucked.? I started to cry. It had become so easy to cry, of late. Was I gay? I couldn?t even tell, they had me so twisted and tormented. The lady leaned over and ripped the top sheet off, as well as took the sheet of Joe Anderson. She wadded them up and tossed them into a trash can in the corner. ?Not to worry. Joe the imposter will never be found out. He has been permanently erased. No arrest is necessary. All of his ill-gotten funds and foolish amateur impersonations are redistributed to legitimate channels, as well. To be sure, his credentials and history and such remain, but this is not him. We are certainly beyond that lunacy, are we not, Miss Hernandez? I mean, where would we go to find him? He is no more.? I could not speak. What did that even mean? Maybe some client or old professor would remember me by virtue of a common experience or something. God, would they even let me in the door? Soon as I said, ?Oh, yes, I?m actually Joe Anderson,? with my lisp and my looks and my gender and my wrong DNA and fingerprints and my broken bank account, and some considerable public concern about people identity thefting him, and after walking off some bus.... I was so fucked! ?We should look at the last page, Miss Hernandez, so as to discover our whole resolution to your lucrative acquisition.? I turned the page. In the same moment, the TV came back to life, and another man was sitting at a desk in what looked like a lawyer?s office, judging by the law books on the far shelf. Both the man and the lawyer were in the camera shot, from the side of the desk, making it possible. Both men were black. ?I need to compliment you on your new master?s degree in accounting at America University, Uganda, Mr. Anderson.? ?It was grueling, but the scholarship made it all possible. I cannot begin to thank you enough. And now citizenship. It is a dream beyond imagination,? the other black man said in perfect English, though with a slightly British tinge to it. The lawyer said, ?Now, your name is?? ?Joe Anderson, of course.? ?And you were born in?? ?Newark, Ohio, Sir.? The lawyer handed him a picture. ?And these are your parents, with their home and number and particulars, should anyone ask. They are accessible to you at any time, though I suggest that you do not pester them.? ?Of course.? ?Driver?s license, SS card, place of voter registration. We will, of course, locate you in a different city, where you will re-register: We require that you vote every election. Our rule, not America?s. Consider it our way of asking you to pay us back, Mister Anderson.? ?Are you kidding me? I am from Uganda. It is my pleasure to vote as a new citizen.? ?Not new. You were born in Ohio, sir.? ?Of course.? I could not believe what I was watching. The man in the video was the same as the one on the sheet, the new Joe Anderson. He was from the same town wherein I?d been born. She even had his SS number; mine! His place of voting was the same as mine. The photo of the parents, what I could catch of it in the video, wasn?t of mine, who were dead anyway. They were some random black couple. Were they doing this to all white men who had shallow family background? ?You see. All is set right, Miss Hernandez.? ?But, that?s not me,? I said with defeat in my whisper. She had that button in her hand, and she pushed it briefly, zapping the forgotten zapper they?d put inside my metal neck collar. I yelped, then realized my error and pushed out an oink. ?Of course it is not you, Miss Hernandez,? the woman said when the screen went blank. ?Silly white woman. He is a professional man, well above your station. Be careful with your filthy tongue, when slandering people.? I whispered, ?No, he?s an illegal?? ?What are you going on about, Miss Hernandez. This line of thinking will only cause you misery.? She touched the zapper, but thought better of it, instead yanking my nose ring and twisting it before leaning into my face. ?You don?t even know this person, so why persist? You will forget that name and never again let it enter your mind. One more word about it, and I will see to it that you are severely disciplined in a prison cell. Life in prison is a strong possibility for repeat offenders.? ?Life?? ?For a fact, and as a sissy bitch. Foreign identity-thieving terrorists in particular. Never mention that name again, Nancita! Impersonating a professional black man is a serious crime that will cause permanent difficulty. New laws regarding black rights are being enacted, as we speak, this chief among them.? She pulled the sheet out from under me, wadded it up and tossed it into the trash, as well. That only left the one picture, of me, Miss Nancita Hernandez, the woman in America on a worker?s visa. I was Miss Nancita, a worker on a Visa, no more. It was the only thread remaining to life itself, thinner than a thong. ?Now, do not make us late for B3, Nancita. The sooner we finish there, the sooner you?ll be done and fed.? Done and fed? Damn straight I wanted to get that B3 thing beyond me. She yanked me up by the arm, being a solid hundred and fifty pounds of woman, and thus fifty pounds stronger than I. Whoever I was. I wasn?t Joe Anderson anymore, and it?d be dangerous to tell people that I was Joe without a serious plan. I had no idea what that would be. Maybe the best thing to be would be to tell nobody. If I fled, I?d be an illegal person, with no credentials. I could do that. I could be an illegal alien. People did that, didn?t they? People made by as illegal aliens...minimum wage, farm hands or something. My accountant credentials were useless. I?d be washing car windows, for tips if I stayed in the city. With those thoughts in my head, I waddled down the hall and into the elevator, palms facing the floor, ass going side to side, making sure to exaggerate in my heels with my naked tits bouncing like Jell-o. ?Don?t forget to oink like a sow, or I?ll be forced to tongue you, bitch!? The key to my lock dangled on a necklace between her breasts. Marcus still had the one to my limp dicklet. What was that plan with Marcus now? Just a bus ride. Hell, skip the bus, if he could just give me a lift ten miles west of the city. Shit! Whatever. I?d prefer the bus ride. That was at least something. Maybe I could go to night school and take my CPSs as Nancita? I just had to get through the day! I couldn?t think straight anymore. Instead I found it much easier to say, ?Oink, oink, snort, oink!? We picked up another pair on floor one, and the two of us who were white sissies, were made to squeal in harmony, she in a high C and me in an even higher falsetto, which a few months ago hadn?t even been possible. ### They were taking over the country, getting even for all the meanness whites had enacted on blacks over the centuries. It was so clear to me now, and this was no longer a simple case of one idiot being careless and letting himself be Teamviewer blackmailed. Some group had come up with a corporate expansion plan, using our internet to bigger social advantage. We white men were the targets of some sadistic black group of hunters. How many would it take to tip the balance of power, anyway? Blacks were seventeen percent of the population and Hispanics another twenty. The fact is, whites were almost a minority, and that made white men twenty-five percent of the population. Notch that down to fifteen percent by turning a few million into sissies, and nothing could stop a determined party from putting us in the cotton fields for a new kind of getting even for past sins. They were turning history around and making white men into slaves. And, we deserved every bit of that result, after what we?d done as a race to blacks for generations, not to mention other groups. Everybody would go along with it. Being cocky and free and wanting sex every way imaginable, our own dicks and balls had sold away our lives and those of our future generations. For a fact, my dick only worked to piss out of, and my balls were no more than the source of total despair. The way Marcus had had the piercer fold my balls around my penis and lock it pointed at my ass, I might as well have had a pussy. My junk was nothing but a huge misery anyway. What good was it? Shoot, I?d been born with a horrible dick and mind-controlling pair of balls, the source of my undoing. Two tables with wheels were waiting for us right outside the elevator. We sissies were made to strip of anything left on us and lie on one table each. We were directed to put our legs up in the short stirrups a few inches high on either far corner. They latched our ankles into those with little belts. They put another belt over my chest, taking care to situate it just under my breasts and cinch it under the table where I couldn?t reach. They left my hands free, but it felt weird holding them at my chest or down to the sides. With only the three little belts, I was helpless, while seemingly not all that encumbered by bondage devices. Incredibly, the mistress stuffed a comfortable pillow under my head. She removed the lock from my tongue and even had the key to my chastity, freeing my dick from between my balls. I couldn?t believe it, but I thought she was trying to make me comfortable. The other sissy didn?t have his dick locked, and that?s when it occurred to me that I?d been the only one with my dick locked backwards between my legs. On the heels of that thought, a white nurse came out and took some paperwork from the mistress. ?What?s with the lock on his penis?? she asked. ?His handler did that. Sometimes they go nuts at the piercer. It?s not authorized. We?ll have a talk with him,? the mistress said. Damn. Marcus had just been fooling with me, the rat. He did have that weird sense of humor. What a relief to know my dicklet didn?t have to be locked up, maybe from now on. The mistress continued, ?Not that it matters, but this metal might get in the way. Just get this bitch?s ID band, and IV it up. We?ve not fed the thing in two days, and a starved slave can?t work.? ?Jesus, she must be starved,? the white nurse said. ?Ma?am.? ?Ma?am, she must be starved,? the professional nurse said to the gopher mistress. I this case the woman didn?t seem cowed as much as forced to respond that way. That?s when I started to realize that more things were going on than us white men fucking up our boys club. The nurse wheeled away the other sissy and the mistress left entirely, leaving me in the hall, two ankles belted a few inches up off a flat bed-table thingy. They hadn?t put a sheet over me, so I was positioned totally obscenely. Obviously it was an operating table. I started looking at myself and wondering what they could possibly want to cut on? I already had tits. My facial features had altered due to the genetic crap. Even my hips appeared wider and everything more rounded, other than where all the bones showed through. What the hell was left? Of course I wasn?t completely naked. I did have a metal collar, tit rings, hoop earrings, rings in my dick and perineum, another ring through my tongue and one in my pig snout. It?d be useless trying to go through an airport metal detector ever again; they?d end up putting me in a room for ten hours of probes. That got me chuckling. I mean, how pathetic can it get? Who gave a shit what they ringed on me at this point. Joe was dead. They?d murdered him, done the autopsy and laid him six feet under months ago. Why did it even matter that someone else carried Joe?s credentials and life path; it was just one of a billion other lives to which he was not even remotely connected. I wasn?t Joe. Lots of people were CPAs with names like Joe, so it was just like that, some other dude going through his own situation, of which I had no concern. Why did it still feel personal to a dead man and resurrected bitch? Damn, but I was holding on to a ghost by no more than memory. Nothing at all tangible remained of it. It was impossible to be more fucking accessorized than I?d become. And then they came to wheel me in. Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Eighteen. The nurse started feeding the IV into me by hooking the bag of sugar water up on a stand. To that she squeezed in a syringe of something lethargic. Once done making me feel all buzzy, she started rubbing orange antiseptic all over my boobs, neck and groin. This got me panicked, lifting my head, looking all around, squirming from the hips. ?Fuck me. Fuck me,? I groaned. ?You should have thought about that a long time ago,? she said while motioning out the curtain. That black mistress came in and helped her adjust the things that held my ankles to the end of the cart. Soon my ankles were a foot higher off the cart and I?d been stretched out more so I had no room to wiggle. They put leather cuffs on my wrists, and secured them to the sides. ?Help. No. No, I don?t want to do this. I?m not giving consent.? I?ll be damned if I let them tattoo or pierce or dilapidate the last 3 hairs on my body without at least a high-pitched lisping complaint. ?Honestly, bitch, do you think real people cares what a thing like you wants?? the black mistress said while putting her finger over that zapper button again. ?Not here. She needs to be in decent condition for medical,? the white nurse said. Thank god someone cares about me. ?Ma?am!? the black mistress grabbed the white nurse?s jaw and scowled into her face. ?Sorry, ma?am.? ?Don?t forget again, whitey.? ?Yes ma?am.? They both departed, leaving me to glare up at the big round light array and various tables of instruments and pulse monitoring and air devices found in the surgical theatre. The doctor came in, still putting on his blue latex gloves. He was white, but he appeared exhausted, like he?d already put in a full day. ?Damn, we used to spend some time marking up the breasts and studying the best options, where to cut?? ?Hell, it?s just a white boi,? a chubby black nurse said, like she was the doctor?s boss. ?Stop complaining. We?re only doing one an hour; what you think we got all day? Shit, I get a fifty buck kicker for every one we do, so hurry up with that. If you cost me my bonus, I swear to god...!? The nurse is the boss! Just the thought of a sadistic nurse in charge of the doctor got me wreathing on the table even worse. I moaned, ?No, no, please....? These people didn?t care about me, and clearly they were about to do something major. This didn?t look like just hair removal or a piercing. The white nurse was not amongst them. She was probably just prep. A black anesthesiologist was, however, and she responded to the black nurse?s comment by saying to me, ?We?ll be starting in a moment, Roanna.? And that?s the last thing I recalled until I woke up in pain. ### We were wall to wall in recovery. The room might have been no more than 50 feet wide by half as many across, but two rows of white bois were on our surgery-room tables, with only a foot of space between us. I counted eighteen of us in all. Everyone had a kind of pasty, shocked look upon their faces. The ceiling was twelve feet up, and our instructions had been painted across the tiles, like they had been set in stone months, if not years, ago: TOTAL SILENCE! NO DRUGS FOR PAIN WILL BE FORTHCOMING, SHOULD YOU SPEAK! ALL HANDS MUST REMAIN AWAY FROM SURGERIES FOR SANITARY REASONS. The aches were serious. Both of my breasts throbbed. My groin was one of those nines on the pain chart I squirmed, clinched my ass, tried breathing in halting heaves, everything. A nurse came in and checked my IV, did blood pressure, and seemed oblivious to the way I was gasping for air, shifting around, perspiring a bucket. Finally she produced a syringe from a smock pocket and stabbed it into the IV line. I felt the room start to spin nicely as she walked away to deal with a boi next to me. She did this, right up the line. Two other nurses would wheel one person out from amongst us after they were satisfied with oxygen and stability. As soon as a spot opened up, another boi was wheeled in from the operation theatre. It looked like they were doing four or five of us an hour. I started doing math again. Five an hour, forty a day, two hundred a week, a thousand a month, ten or so thousand a year. There were maybe two million people in our area, of which 650,000 are white men, so over five to seven years or so it?d be ten percent of us. But wait. Had they meant they were competing nationally, or were there more of these places in my own home town? I wanted to feel my breasts. I couldn?t see them because of a thin white sheet, but they seemed a little bigger. Obviously they?d done something. My groin, however, was the real concern. I had all sorts of pains from that area, some of them feeling like I was being stabbed. Parts felt numb, which had me even more concerned. Finally, my neck felt like something was on it, and after looking at the other men, I realized we all had a big bandage over our throats. None of the ones I looked at seemed bulged, like you?d expect if they hadn?t shaved the Adam?s apple. Most of the men had wraps on their chins, too, suggesting plastic surgery to reduce those. Of course I hadn?t had that done because the genes had chiseled much of my face already. I had half the chin I used to, and it had both narrowed and softened, as if I was somebody else. Shit, I was someone else. The drug was doing wonders, so I was in la-la land by the time they wheeled me down a corridor, up an elevator, and into a room with five other men like myself. We all seemed like we were in the same state of our recovery. The good thing was they?d taken that lock off the ring in my tongue, so I could maybe talk closer to normal. The bad thing was that talking was forbidden in our room, too. Big signs were everywhere. One had an arrow pointing to a small microphone inset into the wall. Another arrow pointed to a video monitor. We were all eyes, though. A nurse came in to undo all our bound ankles and the one over our stomachs, thus one by one taking us to the bathroom to do our duty there. I walked in and was made to sit. When I touched my dick I found it, but a jolt of pain ran up my groin when I did. They had me in a short catheter that dangled a couple inches out my pee hole. When I let go, piss drained out the thing, telling me it wasn?t up clear to my bladder, so I had some control. They?d painted everything down there with orange antiseptic and left some kind of stitches to heal without bandages. Since all the hormones my cocklette had shrunk a goodly amount, maybe topping out at three inches, and it was no longer capable of erecting to a full five or more. Despite the warnings, I had to touch my dick again, even though it was painful (even with the drugs). It was still there. I think. I couldn?t feel parts of it with my fingers because of numbness, but it was there; I felt the mushy head. Wait a minute! I felt around more, and it seemed that the head was just kind of there, poking out from my body. Where is the rest of it? I felt around for the shaft, and there was the foreskin, but it was all bunched up, like I had extra skin near where I also felt lots of stitches. No, wait a minute. I stood in the bathroom and moved to catch the light. There is was; my dick head. The shaft was just short because of the hormones and being scared and?no! I didn?t have a shaft. I had stitches, and almost all the original skin and a dick head that poked out when I worked back that skin, but even that tended to hide until I took a goodly amount of time to move the skin away. All I have is a dick head! Oh my god, they carved all the meat out of my shaft and just left me with skin and an inch of dick head to piss out of. No wonder it hurt so much, and in such a general, all over fashion. All that skin only made it likely that I?d have to dig, just to find my dick head. Could the dick head even get erect on its own? The way it sat, it was largely invisible, half inside my body, maybe at most a half inch outside. Shit! I have a half inch pecker! Maybe even if I could take a blue pill and get an erection, I only would have a half inch pecker. Most clits were bigger than mine. The nurse finished bringing another man to his toilet, and she recovered me. I?m sure I walked like a zombie, and that my face was paste while wheeling along my IV stand. She helped me lie back in my bed and smiled. God, she knew, and was getting a ride out of it. A second black nurse came in, to whom she sure-enough said, ?I love it when they realize.? ?Dickless little nullos,? the second nurse said. Jesus, the second nurse looked all of eighteen; a candy striper. She leaned her face right down at mine, and slowly said, ?You, white boi, are a dickless little nullo! No more raping women for you.? I started to cry. ?Stop that. We want them calm,? the older nurse said, though with a hint of a chuckle. They both departed. Nullos? I reached down even further, being careful to not make it obvious, since they had cameras and seemed intent upon not letting us explore. Past the bulge of skin hiding the head of my missing dick, and onward down to.... Shit. I didn?t even have the scrotum sack. The only thing down there was a tight seam with staples in it. At the same time as I made my discovery, the man over from me whispered in a wailing tone, ?God, they took my balls.? Maybe they put them into his tits because they were ridiculously big, maybe D cups, and since I?d not noticed anyone with more than an A plus, since arriving, they?d be those really fake looking ones with tiny areolas, stretching the skin preposterously. Somehow that made me feel a little better, knowing mine had probably gotten implants too, but I at least would look natural. Don?t misunderstand, I was still horrified and panicked, feeling like they?d murdered me. I glanced around at the faces of all the other men, and realized I?d been the last to find out. Or, maybe the guy who?d opened his mouth had been last because he was openly weeping, all of a sudden. The other men just had pasty faces of despair. One had even been drooling, like he?d lost all hope entirely and lost his mind. The nurse came in and smacked a Little Kitty sticker onto the head of the man who?d spoken. It was ridiculous. They also strapped the ankle belts back on and the one across his chest. ?No pain drugs for you for twelve hours.? Then they left him like that. The night passed. Marcus? It seemed like a lot had happened, and my mind was racing to recalculate. He?d be picking me up, still. Maybe not tonight! I started to hyperventilate. Alright, he?d be here soon as I recovered, though. Marcus was reliable. He?d have to come get me. Surely they didn?t just pack this place without sending people home. There was a front door filling up, so there had to be a back on, pushing us out. Alright, same plan, right? He comes and I...offer to...pay him some of my cut...of selling my business percentage, for a trip to the bus station, where I could ride to some small town out west and get some kind of job as an illegal immigrant on an expired Visa. Maybe a waitress job, given there was no way in hell I?d ever again be able to look like a man. Nothing about me said I was a man, anymore, other than no pussy, and no womb and maybe something in my genes, but hell if I knew what. My hips felt wider, and my skin softer and even the angle of my shoulder blades seemed soft. My face was 99.9% female. I had bigger natural tits than most women. I had to pee sitting down. I had less hair on my legs than virtually every woman, the only hair still capable of growing was on my head, eyebrows and that silly patch over my clit. And it as a clit, to be sure. Totally. I was never going to fuck anything ever again. Gay or straight didn?t even matter, in that department. My giving was done. Getting, however, seemed certain, given I looked like Dolly Parton with a tan. What was it going to be like when the testosterone in my blood wore completely out? Give that a week or two and the only hormones in my body would be female. Add that to the gay genetic alterations they?d targeted on me and I?d not have a clue regarding what kind of orientation to even call myself. Was I gay, lesbian, what the fuck, I had no idea. Talk about gender confusion; I couldn?t even put a label on it already. A week from now, shit! They?d sexecuted me. I wasn?t any sex. I wasn?t a part of the gene pool, either. At all. Not just regarding the offspring I?d never have, but me. I wasn?t a real human being. I had no idea who or what I was. I wasn?t even me, if I was human. ?I? was some black man from Africa, with those credentials the dead ?me? had left in some file cabinet stripped and taken to nowhereville. No, I was a thing. Undefinable. Inaccessible from my own consciousness. At the same time, my associated body, the thing underneath my brain, was smoking hot. I?d want to fuck me, picking my ass over everyone else in the dance hall, more than likely. What I felt about it was as meaningful as a rubber fuck doll, though, because I had been made into a eunuch. Before this. After this, they?d just made me into this totally non-reciprocal fuck thing that was better off if it just drooled and looked at the wall while being used. I went through five days of lying there, taking the drugs, healing. They took out the staples, dressed me in a plain, grey dress with white mid-calf socks and plain Jane flats. My hair was put into a pony tail. Like a drone, I let them clip a pink leash to the metal collar permanently around my neck, and lead me down to a lobby I?d never seen before. REORIENTATION was marked over a whole row of doors. I was led into room 21 and made to sit on a stool. ?Take off the panties and hang them on this hook.? I?d been in a stupor, finally looking at the black male orderly?s face. He was another young man, maybe a college student, doing his part-time job. I slipped my pantied down my smooth legs and gingerly hooked them onto the clothing hook on the wall. They hung there by the door where I?d come in. The orderly departed. The room has a small bed, a square kitchen table and a chair in the corner. A mirror on the wall had been lined with those cheap Christmas lights, merrily tinkling away. A bare bulb dangled from the ceiling. Obviously they?d made the place look a lot like a dingy motel room, only more bare. It might have taken some effort to do that. I?d not thought that even possible to make a trashy motel room look worse. A man in a hoodie came in the same door I?d just came in, making me feel like some thug had followed me in my motel room. I felt cheap and violated and vulnerable instantly. ?Hey, bitch! You?re my ass, now!? the man said. He was tall and about thirty, dressed in jeans and black sneakers. The skin was middling for a black man, but not handsome. Without fanfare, he unzipped his jeans. ?Fucking get your face down here, white bitch. I?m gonna teach you what your mouth?s good for!? I?d not done that before. No, that one man had stuffed my mouth full of his balls, but I?d managed to avoid it before. Maybe they didn?t even know I?d lucked out and avoided it, but here was a man, a rapist was more like it, and he?d barged into my room and dropped his zipper. He fished his cock out then manipulated his underwear so his balls hung out as well. The balls were big and the cock fat, wrinkled, not yet hard. The word, JUNK, came to mind, it was so ugly. ?Get at it, cunt. I ain?t got all day!? I backed until my legs hit the bed. He reached out and yanked my hair, pulling me forward and awkwardly pushing me to my knees and stuffing my face into his crotch. I?d fallen awkwardly, off balance, held from crashing to the ground by his strong hand gripping a fist full of my hair. ?If you bite me, I?m gonna cut your nose off, whore!? He didn?t show a knife, but he had me terrified, nonetheless. What power did I have? Nobody here was on my side, and of course this room had been their setup. The people who held my Visa and who?d turned me into a woman had sent him in. I had a hard time keeping my balance, walking on my knees as he shifted around, toying with me. His cock was on my cheek, balls on my chin, pubic hair in my mouth and up my nostrils. He let go a second to push the back of my head flat to his crotch, then let go of that a second to manipulate his penis to my lips. He smacked the back of my head. ?Open up, cunt. What the fuck?s wrong with you!? He smacked my ear, making it ring. I opened my mouth, and his cock filled my pie hole in a flash. Damn! I had my mouth full of ugly, smelly, wrinkled penis! ?Such. Jesus, I thought you cunts were trained.? I started to suck. It was, in fact, almost instinctual, given I?d a had hundreds of hours on dildos and even self-fucking myself with that tongue deal. He grew and grew. Dammit, the dick was going to be a monster before it was done. ?Tighter. Use your tongue. Stop with the teeth.? And then it started in earnest, now that his prick had swelled, likely two inches in diameter and eight inches long. Shit, I was a goddamned cock sucker! He grabbed my hair with both fists and pulled me in until the cock was several inches down my throat. I glared up with wide eyes of terror. He smiled at that and seemed to fill with ecstatic euphoria. ?Shit. That?s right, bitch. I?m gonna choke the shit out of your cunt face!? He kept it in, only wiggling it in and out an inch or so. I became desperate to breathe. My head spun, and not just from him yanking it in and out. He moved around the room, some, dragging me as my knees tried to keep up, almost always off balance. Thank god his penis finally pulled out. It dangled in front of my face while I struggled to take in a breath. ?Thank me for fucking your face, cunt!? I tried, but the coughing made it hard to get the words out. ?Than?ank?you?mast?master!? ?Get on it, bitch!? He pulled me back onto his cock, and this time bent in so I fell onto my butt. With bent knees, he fucked my face hard and men, filling my throat, over and over again, between rounds of just holding it in and banging me tight with his pubic hair mushed into my nose. He pulled out. I felt disoriented, trying to catch some air. I was being yanked all over the room like a rag doll, him taking my face in every position possible. I stopped trying to move on my own, the way he kept repositioning me as he pleased, yanking me here and there, causing me to resign myself to the reality that he didn?t want me on balance. He was getting some kind of joy out of knowing I didn?t even have control over my limbs. He yanked my arm, forcing me to my feet, then tossed me over backwards onto the table. The brutal man kept a hold on my arm, and made sure I stayed on my back, until he leveled me out and situated my head off the far edge. ?Now I can get it in there, nice and deep!? Fuck, that penis came for my head again, this time with it dangling upside-down off the far end of the table. He put it in, and I knew then that my skull was nothing more than a fuck hole. His cock drove halfway to my stomach. Every minute or so, he pulled out and just lulled the meat around on my tongue, so I could gasp a breath, then right back in. I realized I was nothing. Balls banged my nose, eyes and forehead. The back of my head banged into the side of the table. He started to cum with a burst so far down my throat I didn?t even have to swallow. In the same motion, he pulled clear out, making an audible plop, then shot the next burst straight up my nostrils. He held it there, and screamed, ?Snort it, bitch, or I?ll beat you blue!? I snorted his cum, over and over again, sniffling it in and tasting it in the back of my throat. He zipped up then slapped me until I fell off the table and onto the floor. ?Kiss my shoe, white bitch!? I kissed his shoe. ?Get your face up here!? I scrambled to my knees. He grabbed my hair and cleaned his dick off in it, then pushed me back until I fell into the side of the bed. ?Look how fucked up you are!? He zipped and left out the same door. I crashed to the floor, crying, and trying to straighten my hair, best I could. I?d likely smell his cock in my nose for weeks. A second man, older, black again, balding with white hair over his ears, stepped in behind the man who?d left. He pulled in some kind of cart with what looked like a curling iron on it. He looked down at me on the floor and said, ?Rough, huh? Well, sorry about this, but you?re out processing, and I have to give the final clerical work before you can go.? I jumped up off the floor and sat on the bed, all eyes. My whole body was still shaking from the experience of having my face so violently violated, but I licked my lips and tried to pull it together. This was it. I was being released. ?Let me see the arm band.? I held out my arm, where the facility had banded me with my name and Visa ID number. He read it off and punched the same into a hand-held unit attached to the cart. Was that it? He had my number. Now I could? ?Alright dear, hold out your arm and clamp it down on the handle of my cart.? I did that. ?Rigid. Out tight. Look that way.? He pointed. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him pick up the thing that looked like a curling iron, only it was flatter on the side. He held it up to my upper arm, and grabbed my arm tight, making sure I didn?t flich, before pulling the trigger. Searing pain hit me hard, burning, sizzling. I smelled flesh burning. By the time I felt and smelled all that, he?d taken the thing away and was looking at my smoking flesh. ?Good. That and the chip makes sure you are easy to identify.? He got up and put the items back on his cart. My arm had been branded. I squinted, seeing my Visa number and name, Nancita Hernandez. Under that cooled an 800 number, and the name, Linda Co.. All around them all, my flesh had been insulted, and glowed pinkish under my middling brown. Shit! They branded me, like some Jew destined for Hitler?s ovens. The man wheeled his cart to the door, but then he paused. ?Hey, you know, you?re the hottest one I?ve had all day.? He halted, but then shrugged. ?You don?t mind, do you?? The man unbuckled his pants and pulled down his fly. ?I got an itch.? I shuddered and sat back a little farther on the bed. ?Hey, I ain?t taking your mouth. I can see it?s likely to bruise from your trainer. I?m a nice man, so it?s alright. Look, just come up here.? He grabbed my arm, and helped me stagger the step to the table. There he leaned me over it, facing it and with my feet on the ground, this time. ?There you go. Easy as be.? He lifted my skirt, spit on his hand and smacked the wet hand up to my sissy cunt. Coming up close behind and kicking my legs wider apart, her positioned his dick and slipped the head into my virgin ass. ?Now relax. I don?t mean to make it hurt.? Fuck! The cock entered, little by little, then rocked back and forth, and by the tenth thrust, started to bang me eight inches per thrust. And there I was, a cocksucker and cunt, one, two, ending my day. Of course, I might have also fucked, but about twenty thrusts into my ass fucking, I realized there?d never be an issue of needing to reciprocate. I didn?t have a dick. Even the massaging of my prostate wouldn?t cause me to cum, or at least not normally, and even though the stimulation might have caused my dick to harden involuntarily, that also wasn?t in the cards. I reached down and touched my dick head, noticing that it didn?t have any length to it at all. I even had to hunt for it in amongst the skin, most of it still numb from the nerves cut in surgery. Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Nineteen. A lady in a red dress came in the other door. ?For god?s sake, bitch, put on your panties.? I felt numb while putting on my panties. I brushed the tears off my cheeks. She shook her head, as if saying I was only engaging in useless theatrics, and then led me out. Crazy as hell, I was near the front of the hospital. These back doors emptied right out into what looked like the entrance to a hospital, obviously clear on the other side of the huge complex I?d been stuck in for days. There was a turn-around, where people were picking up sissies. Here, it was sterile, clean, newish, professional. We were just parked here to wait, like nothing whatsoever had just happened to us. There I sat trembling on a plain bench with a rotating fifteen or so other gurls, waiting to be picked up by one black person or the other. Every one of us was dressed the same, plain grey dress, white socks and standard-issued Janes. Sometimes a black man would pick up several, and sometimes I saw the same mistress more than once, but mostly the gurls were picked up by someone different. Maybe all the black families in town had themselves a slave gurl. I?d decided to stop trying to calculate. I just had one thought. Get my cut, pay half of it to Marcus and get that bus ticket to as far as it went until it ran out of gas. That?s when I saw him walking through the door. Late, like six or so in the afternoon. He missed me first, but then turned around and his eyebrow went up. ?Ah, there you are. Sissybitch. No, wait. Tip of my tongue. Henrietta.? ?Nancita Hernandez,? I corrected him. ?Sir.? I ignored the pain in my crotch to stand and give the required curtsy. ?Nancita. Shit, I?ll never get that right.? He took my leash, and didn?t pull on it any as he led me out to his car. I realized that it had once been my car, but I really did not want to even know. Fuck the car. The last thing I needed was a distraction that got my head wandering onto an utterly irrelevant concern. ?So, how did it go?? he said as small talk the moment he pulled out of the crowded parking lot. Shit, there had to be three hundred cars in the lot. People were going in and coming out of doors all over this side of the massive building. ?Thank you for picking me up, Master Marcus.? ?Oh, come on. Stop being so formal. You know, this is my first run converting sissie. I?m dying to know how it went. I bet it shocked the hell out of you when they?? He made scissor movements with his fingers ??snipped your boy parts.? ?I was shocked. Nobody could speak,? I said, not because I wanted to chat about it, but because I needed to please him so I could mention what I had to do before the car went too far in maybe the wrong direction. ?Well, you?re one fine piece of ass bitch now, Nancita!? The name apparently got him laughing out of control. ?I wanted to touch base again about our plan. I need to cash out what I can of my share of the company, and then I?ll pay you half, just for a bus ticket and a ride.? I lied: ?I want to express my appreciation to you with the money.? What kind of fool would pass up an offer like that? It seemed easy, too, one, two, done. ?Oh, that. We talked about that before, didn?t we?? I nodded. ?Boy, I?d sure like to do that. You?ve always been up front about things, and of the other sissies, you was the anchor, so I feel beholding, Nancita, but there?s a problem.? ?Problem?? Fuck, fuck, fuck! ?I talked to Tosha about it. She said that your company was sold to her company five months ago, and that you got the prescribed payout for your share of stock. That went towards paying off the renovations, so since you paid for all the new facilities, your stock is kaput. It was a fine investment for the future, though.? ?What?? ?You?re out of debt, and the company?s doing ten times the original business, with zero debt, I should repeat.? He looked at me with a sincere face. ?That?s pretty cool. I know lots of black folks who ain?t had the money to pay rent in months. Being out of debt is a pretty common goal, don?t you think?? Think? We were on the freeway, but traffic was rush hour, and we?d slowed down to stop and start, zero to twenty, back and forth. I opened the door and jumped out. A car hit its horn and blared as I dodged traffic, clear to the berm and over. We were near a bridge, so I ran down the slope and there was a boat. It was tied to a dock, and looked about big enough to carry two men along the shore to fish the reeds. I pushed into the water, and landed inside, floating into the current. After a while of lying there on my back, wishing I was dead, I chanced a glance back at the bridge. Some cop had pulled up, and his blues and reds were flashing. It was a mile back, though, and nobody was visible, even on the shore, so I just leaned back and rested some more. After all I?d been through, I needed the sleep. I woke up with the sky graying up to first light, somewhere over the other side of the river, maybe east, maybe morning. The little boat was banging up against the top of a low dam, one of those you could step right onto. The spillway was only a few feet down, strewn with huge boulders, and since the water wasn?t particularly high up, not a threat. I tried to brush the mud off my shoes and the hem of my plain dress, then I walked the dam to the shore, where I kept on going. I recognized the main highway by the number of cars, and took it south. At a rest stop, I found one truck trailer with the back unlocked, and scooted in. It took off south, and when I peeked out, west. Somewhere maybe Oklahoma, I got out, peed in the grass out of my still-painful clit and found my way into the truck stop diner. Johnny D?s. Back a ways, they had restrooms and those little trucker shower places, maybe even a cot or two. Men whistled. Some of them were white man, and they appeared to be masculine, free, acting as if there was no conspiracy at all. Others were black and they didn?t whistle or cat call nearly as much. Speaking of cats, an elderly white waitress came up to where I?d sat at the last counter stool and she said, ?Well, look what the cats drugged in.? I gave her my most desperate look and said, ?Please. I need a job. Anything. I?ll wash dishes. Take out the trash. Clean the floors. Maybe you need someone to paint? Part time. Full time. Just a few hours.? ?Well?? ?I?m a good worker and I?m clean. No drugs or alcohol. I don?t even smoke.? ?We don?t?? ?I?m not wanted by the cops, and I?ve never been in jail.? It was hard to talk like a straight person with that ring in my tongue. As well, I?d been talking in falsetto for so long, I found myself doing it naturally, now. Maybe the hormones had even altered them. I cleared my throat, wondering. I?m sure the tattoos and ring in my nose was a real turn off for any respectable employer. She looked at me with a puzzled expression. ?Is someone after you?? I saw an opening: ?The people who did this.? I pointed to the nose ring. I looked around frantically, not having to hide my paranoia. ?Sex traffickers?? I nodded. ?Please help me. I?m afraid.? ?I?ll call the cops.? ?No! They?re in on it. I know they are. This organization is huge. I just need a job. Half of minimum wage is fine. You can pay me in tips. I can sleep anywhere. I?ll clean up in the bathroom. I promise. Nobody will know.? ?Just relax. Look, I?m Betty. You?re...?? I had to think about the name my foreign body was supposed to have attached to it, but with only a second delay I said the only word possible: ?Nancita.? ?Look, Nancita, I will help you if I can. Come in back. We?ll speak to the boss.? She was right. The diner was almost full, and four men were trying to check into the showers, meaning no help until she took care of me. We went through the doors that swung back on their own, and through the kitchen, where a pair of elderly white woman stood sweating over a grill. The office was nicely larger than most for diners, and behind a desk sat a fat black man of maybe fifty. He had to weigh three hundred pounds, but on maybe six-three of a frame. His head was bald, stubble indicating some hair around the ears, should he let it grow out. The plaque on his desk read: John Sharpton, Owner. ?Oh my god. Look what the cat dragged in,? he said, like it was the local mantra. ?She?s hard on her luck, but I?m thinking we can sure make use of someone at the sink. Someone has had her...you know...in his house,? she said, keeping it polite. ?No shit?? He seemed concerned. Then he looked up at me and asked, ?You look Arab. You an Arab?? ?No Sir.? I had to be from somewhere, apparently. ?Hondorus.? ?Hondorus?? He stood from his desk. What a big belly; the man was a surprising slob, to also be an owner. ?Why the lisp and no Spanish accent?? Surely he?d seen the tongue ring. If not, certainly the snout one, earrings and embarrassing tattoos. I hung my head. ?Please. I?ll do anything, even if it?s temporary.? Here I was, going on ninety pounds, standing in a dress that had zero fashion, about to starve to death while homeless. ?Got a Visa or anything?? I hung my head even lower, and whispered, ?You can pay me cash. I?ll not ask for much.? ?Jesus, Betty. This is going to take forever. What?s going on with your customers? I?ll take care of it from here.? ?Sorry Sir.? She rolled her eyes. ?You got to stop dragging in the strays,? he told her as she departed and closed the door. ?Betty?s a good waitress. She?s worked this place for thirty years.? Mr. Sharpton leaned back in his chair and studied me. ?She seems nice, Sir. I hope we can be like sisters, if I get the job.? I knew I didn?t have to do anything to pass as a woman, so why even mention that I?d been a man. Being a woman was ten times easier. It was who I?d become, mannerisms actually proceeding the sexecution part?at least the final part of it. The only parts I missed were a womb and vagina, and all of that was hidden. Even that assumed the gene therapy didn?t have some slow-growing tricks still up the sleeve, twisting my prostate into a raisin. I hadn?t even leaked semen in a month. ?Let me see your arm.? I held one out. ?The other one.? I held out the one with my Visa ID and the phone number on it. He started dialing the number stamped on me. After a moment, he said, ?Ah yes. My name?s John Sharpton, owner of Johnny D?s diner on 64 thirty miles this side of Tulsa. I believe I?ve got one of yours.? He paused to listen. ?Well, she looks like the cat dragged her in, but I can clearly see she?ll clean up real nice.? He paused then grabbed my arm. Just like that he read out my Visa ID number to whoever was on the other end of that phone. Obviously he was walking to the Mistress Linda people. Fuck me! ?Seriously? Trying to move the inventory, you say? I heard about it. Sure. All over the news, now. Sometimes success can come up and bite you, if you over inventory. Been there myself. I own a truck stop. Why, I recall once having a pie sale. I had to hire two waitresses and sadly let them off the very next week, on account of?? Apparently he got cut off, and so he listened. I squirmed, foot to foot, wanting to flee, wondering if I could make it out the door. What would he do, send out the cops? Shit, probably. Companies that big owned authority figures. Things were so wrong. This was like that human trafficking of prostitutes that people half believed was impossible, and yet always seemed to make the news regarding some brothel two blocks down the road. ?Fifteen thousand, you say? Damn, that?s reasonable. Hell yeah I will. I?ll go for the option to purchase, I suppose, at twenty-two per, over five years. Uh-huh, uh-huh. Oh sure, I will need the extra service, for sure. She?s gonna start looking like shit with gorilla hair and sunken tits, if we don?t keep up with the meds. Damn, that?s a local clinic. I didn?t know we had that kind of doctor in Tulsa.? Doctors? Meds? Was this really about me? I knew what they were talking about. My body was looking like a righteous bitch because of meds. The gene therapy would not be enough, without the usual female plumbing. Without male or female hormones, I wasn?t even human. I?d look like a blob of puss in a couple years, without something coursing through my veins. They chatted a while longer, and I had to pee. He motioned for me to take a seat, so I did that. ?No need to do payments. I?ll take the payoff discount, and send a check for the ninety-seven thou, soon as your papers arrive. I got line of credit, and will write it off to my business.? He read off his address and hung up. ?There, all settled. You?d better be worth it. I just unloaded nearly a hundred thousand bucks on your ass.? ?What?? ?I?ll need to find someone to clean you up, and figure out where you?ll be staying most nights.? ?Um.... Are you hiring me, Sir?? ?More or less yeah. I bought your ass, lock, stock and barrel. They?re sending me the papers and a couple books on maintenance, as I speak. Sure as shit you?re working for me, bitch.? He smiled, and that face was pretty ugly. ?What the hell. Things are running smooth enough, as of the moment. I?ll take you to my place and clean you up, myself.? ?Uhhh!? I felt faint. ?What?s your name? Ah, fuck it. I?ll name you, myself. I get the prerogative, I figure, just like back in the day when my folks came off the ships and them white fools started naming people. I read about that in black history, and it pissed me off. Now....? I started to speak? ?Now, don?t go telling me what your name used to be. I know about that Nancita shit from Hondorus, but I need something spicy. How about, Sugar Tits. We can put Sugar on your name tag, for when you?re waitressing. Now, Sugar Tits, do you have a real pussy? Hell, I should have asked on the phone.? I fell off the chair, trying to get away, while feeling like I couldn?t really run. He came around the desk and helped me up, then calm as day, reached under my hem, up my leg, peeled down my panties, and ran his finger up where I used to have testicles. I was still pretty sore, down there, and I squirmed. ?Shit! No vagina. Oh, what the hell. Maybe I can have something done, though. They said they had a clinic real close.? He laughed. ?I can get the vet to fix you with a hole.? ?A hole?? Fuck me! He pushed me to my knees and undid his fly. The next thing I knew, his fat, wrinkly, bent-over cock was in his hands, roughly pointed at my face. ?Come on, bitch. Suck it. That dick owns your ass; ain?t you been paying attention?? It came closer, and closer, and when he grabbed the back of my hair, jamming the penis into my mouth. Pubic hair planted itself on both cheeks. I felt that cock sliding over my tongue and seeking my throat, running across the new ring. Oh God, I have a cock in my mouth! There hadn?t even been an intro with licking or teasing, just in one second, eight inches deep the next. ?Damn! I ain?t never been blown by a ringed tongue before. I?m almost ready to blow already.? He glared down into my terrified eyes and said, ?Are you sure you?re not really a bitch, and they just sewed up your snatch? There is no fucking way you used to be a man.? He left off with all the talking, and yanked me more firmly onto my knees, then he started the old in and out. ?Tighter. Didn?t they teach you nothing?? You?re hungry, ain?t you. You looked starving when you came in. Well, I?ve got me lots of protein, right where you need it.? I tightened my lips, like I?d been taught to do on a hundred different occasions with the dildos in the basement of my house. My house? God, they?d taken my house, my possessions, my car, my business, my body, my identity, my prospects, my freedom, and not the man was groaning, pumping his seed down my throat, feeding me his sperm. ?Shit!? Squirt, squirt, squirt! Squirt, squirt, squirt! ?Ahhhh!? Squirt, squirt, squirt! My mouth filled up, sticky and slimy and raw. He kept pumping, like he might be easing off then maybe hoping to get hard again. After a few minutes, he just left his shrinking dick in me and said, ?Shit, that was nice. You have me so bound up, I blew way too fast. Damn! I?m getting you a pussy, for sure.? He pulled out, stood and zipped up. Then he went back to his desk, collecting his things. On the way out the door, he reached up my skirt, past my waist and clear up my blouse. With all my clothing stretched up, he finally latched a finger into one of my nipple rings. We walked out the door like that, with my skirt and blouse both hiked up clear to my elbows, and his hand inside my blouse, like to pull my nipple off. I had no option other than to follow tight to his side, scampering along to keep my balance, whimpering down the hall to a side door, breath smelling of cum. All I could do was cry. Speaking was worthless, and beside, my mouth was gammy with the only meal I?d had in a long time. I already spoke with a lisp, and now I smelled like the inside of a condom. Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Twenty. The clinic had, in fact, been a veterinarian business before the company had taken it over. Maybe even the old white surgeon had been one. I had the sneaky suspicion that the doctor was a slave, too, given the way he cowered to his black nurse. Still, the man had plenty of clients in the office, the day I?d been taken from my cell in my owner?s basement, to get fixed like a stray dog. I had to nervously sit there for an hour, nobody but Betty to watch over me. She?d been drafted because my owner was busy. Small talk and all. We?d become good friends, in fact, though she was a free woman and I was a slave. It amazed me how quickly everyone at the diner had gotten over the newness of the owner owning an actual slave girl. Ten employees and one slave. So what? Onward things progressed. Even the talk of bringing on another slave, only had a couple of them worried about maybe losing their jobs if it kept up. Not about the slave, but about the labor situation. Otherwise, no big deal. Except for me. I was a fucking slave, and that meant everything. In particular, I couldn?t even imagine a decision anymore! Master Johnny owned me, and it was like my brain had been locked up, too. Everything I earned went to him. Everything I did was because he wanted it done. I was his property, and he had the same thing as a deed, legal now in the land of the free. Before I?d imagined options. Now...! Well, not so free, now. Whites were becoming slaves, and laws were changing to make it legal, under what they called ?voluntary? conditions, for whites. Fucking voluntary, my ass. Best I could tell, by eavesdropping on my owner?s television, whenever I wasn?t working outside his house, upwards of thirty percent of the white men in America were already compromised, and that number was growing. So I?d sat there on the bench, in the clinic, an IV in my arm and getting drowsy, going down for the count. Maybe when I got old or diseased, I?d be back to the vets, sitting on the same bench, maybe to be euthanized in place of some too-expensive operation. More than likely that was either legal, too, or they?d lose any record of my existence anyway. Oh, sure, I was already fixed in almost every way, and they?d even taken my scrotum, so making a workable pussy was not that favorable without skin grafts, but they?d left plenty of my foreskin to alter, all wrinkled up around my dick head, and maybe that had been all the man needed to invert and combine with other material to make my pussy. He didn?t really care all that much about making it so I enjoyed it. It just had to look right around my pussy lips and feel right to a dick, under the influence of a dab of lube. Then, it was going to be bang, bang, bang bang, bang, bang bang, bang, bang bang, bang, bang bang, bang, bang bang, bang, bang bang, bang, bang bang, bang, bang bang, bang, bang bang, bang, bang bang, bang, bang bang, bang, bang. A hole. I was going to get yet another hole, so real men could fuck me in one more place. Yes, then I?d be a hole, and nothing more. ### In fact, I woke from the anesthesia with another hole, no doubt, and more pain. The odd thing about it was I still had the head of my dick in the same place. He?d diverted the urethra to further inside, meaning I pissed more like a girl and even the feeling of piss out my dick no longer applied. So, the dick head of a sissy remained, invisibly deep, largely unfeeling, though the most sensation I got anywhere in the sex department. Hell, clits were longer, though not as wide. Who was I fooling, if I thought I still had a penis at all? My cocklett head had receded to the point of being impossible to find without digging, but dig the surgeon had, removing my prostate and making lots of depth to my new fuck hole (twelve full inches deep, they said). One needed space for the real men?s dicks to saw in and out, ?Once I healed enough,? they often said with smiles. And I had healed, while working as a waitress and cashier six ten- hour shifts a week, and while Johnny had a team constructing a ?special-fees? room next to the truck stop shower stalls. At least for a while the only suffering I endured was working in heels and healing, and hadn?t been asked to go in there. Sex was off limits, though even the truckers leered, seeming to know it wouldn?t last. A couple months later, however, the vet gave me a pat on the ass and the comment, ?Good to go. No more risk of infection.? Johnny led me out the clinic, into his car, home to be changed, and then on my nose leash to the back where the truckers went. My shift as a waitress seven to six was over, and a new one soon to be in place. It was maybe ten o?clock at the time of my first arrival at the room. The rings through my nipples had jingly bells on them, now. He?d bought me one of those bras that are wide open, so it was just all the straps, but no cups. That way my size-C breasts pointed out and I jingled as I walked. ?It?s like your birthday, bitch!? he bellowed with a roar of laughter. My walk included the much-required palms to the floor, pinky fingers pointing up, swaying hips on high heels. Pursed lips, of course, or I?d get smacked. My heels clicked on the floor. Garters rubbed my thighs, holding up the nude, but seamed stockings. He?d taken off the short petticoat, leaving my in a plain, grey knee- length skirt and no top. I was very much on display as we walked past a couple men entering the shower room, them smelling of road sweat. I moaned and whimpered, trying to signal my dislike without actually speaking, which would get me cuffed for sure. Johnny didn?t take my nonsense, not even the hint of it. Soon we came to the new room, which looked just like a utility closet from the hallway. It had a sign on it: Check in for a time ticket at the checkout counter. Doris and the others at the checkout counter did gas, food checkout, other items purchased, shower and birth chits and now this, whatever it was. Everyone I work with would know! They had a room that looked just like a changing room in a clothing store. Little hooks on the wall, a mirror and bench. Over on one wall was a sink, however, for washing hands, I imagined. Then I realized there was a second door beyond the entry room. Over that it read, Pleasure Room. Master Johnny led me to that door. ?This way, Sugar Tits. You?re gonna make me rich.? He pulled me so I was right up to his face, where I kept my eyes down, like was proper. ?And as my slave, not one dime will have to weigh down your pocket, hear! If I hear you kept back some tip, I?m going to be pissed. You don?t need both eyes, both ears, all ten fingers. You catch my drift, bitch?? ?Yeth, Thir,? I lisped, like was now required, as if I could overcome the conditioning. He insisted. High C. Lisp. Sweet. Demure. Deferential. Dropping the last syllable. Tits up. Eyes down. Female more than most women, even while serving tables. Nobody ever guessed I?d been a man, a college grad, or even a full-bred white person, ever since my arrival. How would they even guess the first thing about my life? ?You do this right, and I?ll be nice. Shoot, I like you with all your white gurl body parts, so I?m just saying, behave!? ?Yeth thir.? I curtsied. ?Now, for every cock my slave bitch sucks, twenty-five bucks in my pocket. On special occasions, or if you don?t bring enough dick sucking dollars in, fifty bucks for your pussy. And, if you disappoint me there, your sweet ass is up for purchase. Hell, I bought it lock stock and barrel. That?d be a hundred bucks in my pocket. See how nice I am with pricing policy? More than likely your ass is safe from too much abuse, the way I have it worked out, because you?re going to want to be the best cock sucker you can be, and spare that. Ass fucking ain?t what it?s cracked up to be anyway, particularly now that you got a nice, warm pussy and are going to be the best cocksucker possible.? ?Yeth thir.? I think I whimpered. I couldn?t help it. I figured I had five times the hormones rushing through my genetically altered veins than a normal woman might have. So that was it. I either sucked dick super well, or my pussy was forfeit. ?I don?t actually want them ruining your pussy and ass, so I might raise that price if people go for it, so you?ll only have to do that once in a while, other than with me. I have to pay the vet, if you get hurt and ripped up. I even have the clients take a monthly quick test for VD. Got them at the checkout for ten bucks...piss in the cup. See how I take care of my things, Sugar Tits?? I whimpered. ?Doesn?t that make you happy, seeing how concerned I am for keeping my property maintained? Don?t you want me to make a wad off your blowjob skills, Sugar Tits?? ?Yeth, thir.? ?Wiggle that sexy butt, so I can get a hard on thinking about my cash cow on her knees, sucking half the town.? I did. I had no choice, and with all the conditioning, it kind of happened anyway, every time I moved. My tits jingled with the little bells. As for hard ons, if I had something to get hard, one look at me in the mirror would make me hard, too. As it stood, I was sexless inside, other than the raging female hormones in my body that had been altered to have gene coding that they said was mostly the same as that found in gay men. Did that mean I liked men, now? Constantly? Who liked anything, constantly? Of course, when I could cum, it was likely some fake thing of the mind vaguely stimulated by rubbing up against where my prostate used to be. The fact is, my body had nothing left that was male, so basically, from my position in space, I was a drone; a living sex doll. I wimpered. ?Now, don?t get all worried or nothing. It?s only part time. Six nights a week, ten to one. Just three little hours. I got you tons of lube, too, so use it if you have to give some pussy before the night is over because I?ll be pissed if you get raw.? He pulled me back to the entry room and up to the sink, over which was a mirror, showing my full red lips, dark eyes, thin eyebrows, tiny chin, gorgeous bleach-blond hair, shiny earrings, snout ring and of course, down below, tits with huge half-dollar areolas. I touched one. ?Now, don?t get all bothered yet. First, I want to show you your new schedule.? He slapped a paper up on the wall, and taped it in place: Monday: 9:00 Take off nighty. Put on panties and bra. Clean up kitchen. Make coffee. Suck Johnny awake. Get Johnny coffee. 9:45 Get dressed for waitress job. 10:00 Waitress. 12:30 Light meal; ask the chef. 13:00 cashier (be sure to tell the truckers about the blowjob specials later that night. I will check). 15:00 maid outfit. Clean up restaurant kitchen. 17:00 cashier in maid outfit. 19:00 Johnny?s residence, housekeeping. 21:30 Slut outfit, come to this room and start the evening in the knees position. 01:30 back to residence and ask if Johnny can fuck you, then to bed. Tuesday: 9:00 Take off nighty. Put on panties and bra. Clean up kitchen. Make coffee. Suck Johnny awake. Get Johnny coffee. 9:45 Get dressed for waitress job. 10:00 Waitress. 11:00 Light meal; ask the chef. 11:20 cashier (be sure to tell the truckers about the blowjob specials later that night). 15:00 maid outfit. Clean up restaurant kitchen. 16:00 cashier in maid outfit. 19:00 Johnny?s residence, housekeeping. 21:30 Slut outfit, come to this room and start the evening in the knees position. 24:30 back to residence and ask if you can fuck Johnny, then to bed. Wednesday: 8:00 Take off nighty. Put on maid uniform. Clean Johnny?s house, top to bottom. 11:00 Light meal at restaurant; ask the chef. 11:30 Clean restaurant, top to bottom. 15:30 serve as maid in waiting at Johnny?s house. 19:00 ask if you can fuck Johnny, then to bed. Thursday: 8:00 Take off nighty. Put on panties and bra. Clean up kitchen. Make coffee. Suck Johnny awake. Get Johnny coffee. 9:00 Get dressed for waitress job. 9:30 Waitress. 11:00 Light meal; ask the chef. 11:20 cashier (be sure to tell the truckers about the blowjob specials later that night). 15:00 maid outfit. Clean up restaurant kitchen. 16:00 cashier in maid outfit. 19:00 Johnny?s residence, housekeeping. 21:30 Slut outfit, come to this room and start the evening in the knees position. 24:30 back to residence and ask if you can fuck Johnny, then to bed. Friday: 8:00 Take off nighty. Put on panties and bra. Clean up kitchen. Make coffee. Suck Johnny awake. Get Johnny coffee. 9:00 Get dressed for waitress job. 9:30 Waitress. 11:00 Light meal; ask the chef. 11:20 cashier (be sure to tell the truckers about the blowjob specials later that night). 15:00 maid outfit. Clean up restaurant kitchen. 16:00 cashier in maid outfit. 19:00 Johnny?s residence, housekeeping. 21:30 Slut outfit, come to this room and start the evening in the knees position. 01:30 back to residence and ask if you can fuck Johnny, then to bed. Saturday: 9:00 Take off nighty. Put on panties and bra. Clean up kitchen. Make coffee. Suck Johnny awake. Get Johnny coffee. 10:00 Get dressed as maid in waiting. 11:00 Light meal; ask the chef. 11:30 Free time in your cell. 22:30 Slut outfit, and ask if you can fuck Johnny, then to bed. Sunday: 9:00 Take off nighty. Put on panties and bra. Clean up kitchen. Make coffee. Suck Johnny awake. Get Johnny coffee. 9:45 Get dressed for waitress job. 10:30 Waitress. 12:00 Light meal. Return to Johnny?s residence to play cock warmer while Johnny watches football or basketball. Stand as maid, when not in use. 19:00 ask if you can fuck Johnny, then to early bed in your cell. I was stunned at the schedule. Johnny had a house adjoining the restaurant, so apparently I was rushing all over the place, working 24/7. Half that time I was a maid or cock whore. The other half I was a slave to the diner. It didn?t seem like there was any time to pursue anything I might be interested in. What would that be, I suppose? Even my free time was delegated to my cell. Hell! I was nobody. I was nothing but a work drone and sex doll. ?Alright, Sweet Tits, in we go.? Johnny grabbed my arm and opened the little door to the next room. We went in together. I had no means to resist. I weighed all of ninety pounds, counting my huge knocker that jingled as I walked with my swaying hips, swinging arms, pointed pinkies. Basically worse than a fairy. ?Ohhh,? I moaned. ?This is the sucky, fucky room.? He positively beamed. ?I added the service, just because of you.? I noticed the stand, whereon was another small sink and five tubes of lube. They also had paper towels, those tucked away in an enclave, so as to not interfere with the main space. ?This is your bench. You can lie on that face down or on your back. Whichever your clients prefer.? The bench was about two feet tall. It ran maybe sixteen inches long and a foot wide. The thing was almost a foot from the far wall, wherein light shone through a pair of glory holes. These holes were pretty large, maybe six inches, and oval shaped, so they were maybe five wide. One was below the level of the bench and the other above it. ?You see, that bottom hole is for when you?re on your back and your head?s leaning back, almost even with the hole. I call that the full throat access hole. Mostly the guy on the other side is on his knees, and we?ve some pads for them, should they need to adjust.? I started to shake with fear. How long was I to be in here, every day, or at least four days a week. If he got tired of me at his house, maybe all seven. ?The top one is for when you?re on your chest. I?m going to suggest they don?t use that too much, because it?s a strain on the neck, bent up like that so much. Hell, I don?t need you with a strain, or you?ll be useless on dick warmer Sundays.? He laughed and smacked my ass. ?Come over to this one.? Beside the bench a couple feet was another hole, with a nice and thick pillow in front of it. ?Just kneel there and get a feel.? I fell, my knees were so wobbly with terror. ?This is your plain old basic blowjob hole. Smaller than the other ones. A man can just barely get his nuts through with his cock, on that one, but some like it traditional.? God, the hole lined up perfectly with my mouth, when I knelt there in front of it, like it had been measured for me. It was plenty big, too, maybe four inches around, so they could see part of my face here, too. I mean, I was smoking hot. They?d want to see my face, and then they?d see me when I waitressed or did counter work, and know. We?d share a moment of them smirking and licking their lips or something similarly rude. ?Back to the bench, and on your back, bitch!? I scrambled, afraid he?d hit me or make life worse. Once on the bench, he grabbed one ankle then the other, putting both into leather loops on the wall up to either side, separated by four feet. The way he left me had my ass up a couple inches off the bench, where it overhung some anyway. ?Now this is spit-the-cow position number one. We?ve got a twofer special, if they want to take you in teams. Thirty percent off. One in the pussy, one in the pie hole. You got you spit position two, as well, only on your stomach. Now remember, if it?s one, you got to get your legs up there, because the guy who comes in here might not be all that familiar. Once your legs are up there, they?ll likely help you get in the loops, if you?re not up to it. Who knows; you might get dizzy after a long day.? ?Oh my god,? I moaned. ?Stop your bitching, slave. I own your ass, so let me do all the thinking. It?s all about me and my cash flow, now. You just do what I tell you, or you?ll regret it. They?ve got them new snuff parlors for you white bois who fuck up, now.? What was he saying? ?Yeth, Mather.? ?Panties.? He held out his hand. I stepped out of my panties and handed them to him. ?And keep your ass clean. Nobody wants a dirty whore. I had plumbing put in here, just for that. It?s one of those French things with the water squirter. A good five minute between tricks, minimum, too. I got my investment to consider.? ?Yeth Mather.? He left, closed the door, and I didn?t dare to even check if it had a lock. I scrambled out of the horrible position on the bench and over to the simple padding and simpler glory hole. Not one minute later, I heard a commotion in the room next to the holes. I put an eye to it and scoped out the place. There was a bench, and a place to hang clothing, like the room I?d come through. Someone had a beer, that he put down. I dared not look up at his face, but he turned, seemed to be looking at me and chuckled. Damn, but he dropped his pants and then took down his short, exposing his dark skin. A fat cock dangled free, whereupon he pulled a baby wipe from a box on the counter and cleaned himself before tossing the thing into a trash can and approaching my hole. The man fiddled a minute then pushed his penis into my space. ?Hop to it, Sugar Lips.? I panicked and ran for the door, where I struggled to turn the knob. Then I banged on it, when it didn?t open. Johnny yanked the door open so fast that I fell out on my face. ?What the hell, Sugar Tits.? ?Pleeth. Thi can?t tho it.? ?That?s alright, honey. You don?t have to do it.? He patted my head when I got to my knees. ?I got a whole bunch of alternatives to being a blowjob queen.? He grabbed the ring in my nose, and pulled me back into the room. I struggled to crawl in under the awkward yanking. ?Up across the bench, Sugar Tits. No, not that way, facing the side. ?I couldn?t figure out what he intended, but he was big and I was just a twig. I did feel a little better after he took his finger out of my nose ring, and I did whatever he wanted, just to not have to put up with that. Once I was lying over the bench, he came around to the front of me and reached down to the floor. A huge brass ring was embedded into that, and he just lifted it up on a hinge, turning it vertical. ?Tongue out, bitch.? I stuck my tongue out, figuring he wanted me to lick his boot or something. I could maybe manage the embarrassment of that, given I seemed to specialize in being ashamed. In a single motion, he snapped a lock onto my tongue ring, and then he slipped the lock into the flood ring, securing my face few inches from the concrete. I found it easier to lean a little more and let the edge of the floor ring into my lips. ?What?s going on?? the man on the other side of the wall said. He was leaning down, and his eyes peeked through the blowjob hole. ?Come on around. You can help.? ?Don?t mind if I do,? the man said, disappearing for a half minute then reappearing through the door. ?What?s up?? ?My slave says she don?t want to give you a blowjob, so I said she didn?t have to.? ?Well, that ain?t right. I already paid for the woman.? ?Well, who knows what will happen. She might change her mind. You can help me change her mind, it you want. Here, take my cell phone. I have the setting on video, so just point and shoot.? ?Sounds like fun. What you gonna do?? ?It?s pretty much like any two year old. You give them a choice of one thing or the other, and leave them to decide.? ?Ha! Got to keep the dump-assed bitches in line; that?s for sure.? He paused. ?I mean, in your profession. My wife would kill me.? ?Let me get a chair.? Johnny left me with the other man for a half minute, then returned, put the chair in front of the hook and sat down to take off a boot and sock. ?Ahhh!? I involuntarily moaned. Even that came out distorted, because my whole mouth seemed preoccupied by the tongue ring and lock with floor ring jammed half into it. I had to strain my eyes upwards, just to see Johnny take off his sock. Was he going to make me suck his toes or something? Back behind me, the other man lifted my skirt and smacked my naked ass. ?When do I hit play?? ?Right now, so you can catch what I tell her. This might be the best thing on the internet, soon as I post it.? The man behind shifted to the side, and I strained my eyes to that, seeing him pointing the cell phone camera lens at me. ?Ohhh! Thory. Thory, mather.? In the meantime, Johnny grabbed one of the tubes of lube and lathered up his whole foot. It was ridiculous. He?d squeezed a quarter of the tube on, and even pushed some between his toes. What is he going to do? Oh god, help me! Johnny got up and hopped around me, soon standing behind where I could only see his booted leg on the floor and dripping foot dangling just above it. That sopping foot lifted, and I felt it smack my raised ass, slip to the brass ring below my new pussy, and then a toe wiggled at my ass. Another dollop of KY dripped onto my butt cheeks and slid downward. ?Now, the way I figure, if I can get my whole foot up your ass, you?ll have no problem at all volunteering to be my glory hole bitch, all I want. Not that you have a choice, but I like to think we give service with a smile.? The man taking video contributed, ?Ha. Because what the hell. What size is that foot? Eleven?? ?Eleven and a half.? ?Damn.? Johnny wiggled his toes and two of them slipped in. ?Ahhh!? With a little back and forth and a slight twist, all but the little toe was in. He pumped back and forth, and I struggled with my feet, finally giving up and spreading my knees as far as I could. Nobody had to ask me to make it wide because I felt like I was being split in two. ?That?s it. Relax that ass pussy and it won?t hurt at all.? ?Aahhhhhaaa. Ohhh!? I tried to relax, like I was taking a shit. And bang, the last toe slipped in. There was the ridge of his toe bones, and then half his foot was inside my body. ?Relax. Let me feel around. ?Holy shit, Mister.? ?Yeah, that?s something, ain?t it. Oh, there you go. This way.? Johnny had his foot twisted around about 45 degrees, and more of it went inside me. ?Can she take all of that? I don?t think it?s possible.? ?Hell if I know. We?re gonna try.? Johnny smacked my ass with a hand. ?Now, you get it in there, or we?ll be doing this all night. I got customers lined up. You do want to suck some cock tonight, don?t you, Sugar Tits?? ?Ohhhh. Pleeth!? ?Fine with me. If you don?t ask, we?ll just cancel the customers out there and have them come in here and get their feet slimy.? ?Ohhh!? God, his foot went in more. Now it was up to his ankle. ?The colon adjusts. An hour or two from now, she?ll be taking feet like it ain?t nothing?.? Johnny laughed. ?That is, unless she wants to crawl to the glory hole instead. I mean, even a cock up her ass has to be better than,? He shoved a little more, pressing up to the wide part of his ankles and nearly the heel. ?this all night.? ?Ahhhh!? ?Now, I want two things, Sugar Tits. I want you moaning like you like it, and thanking me. Also, I want you begging to be a cocksucking glory hole whore, coming up to that hole with a smile on your face. I?m fucking pimping you, one way or the other, so you are obliged to like it.? ?Pleeth, pleeth, leth thee thuth thoths.? ?I think she wants to suck cocks, now,? the man videoing it said. ?She sounds pretty convincing.? A little more lube got smeared onto the side of the foot, and the heel slipped in. Oh god, I have a whole foot in my ass. ?Now, here?s the deal, Sugar Tits. Next time we do this, I?m not taking off the boot. In fact, sooner or later I?m going to do that, anyway, but we?ll wait for the next time you crack a smile at the wrong time or hint at not doing what I say after the words come right out of my mouth. If you even imagine that I want you to do something, and you ain?t doing it, it?s the boot.? ?Ahhh.? I couldn?t help but cry. ?The way I figure, you?ve already graduated to the foot, so I plan on doing that once in a while, just for the fuck of it. See how that works. You don?t want to graduate to the next thing now, do you, Sugar Tits? Once you go there, you not only have to worry about the next level, but more of whatever you?ve messed up and stumbled upon. Don?t want that, do you?? I shook my head, mostly the back of it because the front was anchored to the floor. ?Now, here?s my plan for tonight. You and I are going to inch off the end of this padded bench, soon as we get a hand unhooking your nose.? The man lowered the camera phone and said, ?Sure.? He unhooked my tongue, and I breathed better, though with my head still nearly on the floor. ?Ease on over a little, off the bench. Slowly. Slowly. That?s it. Now I?ll scoot my chair along, bit by bit, and you ease up to the kneeling hole. That?s a bitch. There we go. Squeeze that ass pussy and keep my foot up your ass.? We moved toward the hole, me crawling with my ass up in the air as high as I could keep it, only half the time my knees touching the floor. Finally we were there. ?Now, Sir, I will need you to go back around, and be sure to use the two clips for the rings.? ?Uhhh... rings?? ?You?ll see.? I eased up to the blowjob glory hole, putting my mouth right up to it. The way it was situated, in spite of it being four inches wide, I ended up looking at the painted-plywood wall. ?Stick your tongue out, Sugar Tits!? I did. Hands over there touched my tongue, and then I realized a lock or hasp of some sort was being threaded through my tongue ring. The tongue was pulled down, and then affixed to some sort of ring below the hole, so I couldn?t pull my tongue back in, and it just hung out there into that stranger?s space. ?Now the other one,? Johnny yelled to the wall. Fuck, he?s pulling some kind of chain down to my nose ring. ?Make it tight.? Like he was feeling for the best loop, he hooked my nose ring, and I found it impossible to even lean back because I was now affixed, nose and tongue rings, both. God, my mouth lay gaping, and tongue extended like the most eager blowjob whore alive. The only things I could really move were my lips?the top one mostly. ?Oh God. I?ve been waiting for this all night!? the man over there said, one second before he put his huge cock in my mouth. He started to saw, and then he pushed up against the wall and dropped the head of his penis four inches past my tonsils. ?Fuck that hole!? he screamed. ?Deep throat that cock, bitch!? he continued. In and out, the man raped my throat. I?d learned from the dildoes to breathe and suppress my gag reflexes, but I still choked from time to time, because of the awkwardness of it. Johnny painfully but slowly eased his heel than ankle out of my ass. Jesus, that hurt worse than going in. ?You?ll get used to it. Probably before your shift?s half over, it will be like eating ice cream.? The wide part at all five toes proved particularly painful as he pulled the rest of the way out. ?Don?t let me hear no more complaining. In fact, a few womanly moans of pleasure would be nice. And swallow. I?m leaving meat off your lunch menu, counting on you getting enough protein and fat, here.? I moaned. It was a lot like grunting, and at least he wasn?t asking me to snort like a pig today. ?That?s better. Keep it up. If I hear my customers don?t want to come back on account of poor or sloppy service.... Well, you know the score now, don?t you, Sugar Tits!? He smacked my ass. ?Yeth thir!? I moaned. ?That?s my whore. Best blow-job whore, this side of Kansas. I expect word will spread about the quality, fast as the trucking fleet. We might have to expand your hours. Ain?t enough time in the day for the likes of you. Think of it. If you hold back, you?ll get the boot. My size elevens. If you play it up, more dicks to keep you happy and fed. Maybe we can figure out a way for you to sleep in here with a dick in you half the night. Some kind of drugs, maybe, to help you sleep through it so I can take advantage of your down time.? What kind of crazy kinky bullshit was he spouting. Fantasy stuff, I hoped. Surely he?d not do that to me. Oh god, I felt lube at my new vagina. Next came his dick. A minute after that, his dick head popped into my new pussy. ?There we go. This is what I?ve been waiting for. PUSSY! A real goddamned pussy!? He put it all the way in. ?Oh, fucking A! That vet did this up perfect. Nobody will even know the difference, other than the lube. Maybe those genes they said they gave you helped your cunt adapt to the real thing. Hell, I bet you?re growing ovaries.? ?Moan!? I had no choice other than to grunt, feeling his flesh inside my body, take me and making me into a woman. The cock in front of me shoved way down deep, sawing clear to my Adam?s apple. Johnny?s back cock plunged nine inches deep into my pussy. My ass still tingled with pain, so I just hoped he?d leave that alone. I was spit roasted like a sow enough. Both men just held their meat inside of me a moment, each enjoying their own pleasure of impaling a cunt and mouth pussy, each oblivious of the other, but on the exact same mental lust channel. ?Oh, God!? both men said at the same time, as each pulled out to only the heads of their penises inside of me. It was like unsealing a balloon, with all the air passing in and out of my holes. Hell, I was just a hole. Air! Breathe! I breathed in the odor of cock. Taking the oxygen in great gulps, preparing for the next invasion. ?Shit yeah,? the man in front said, pushing back in, and now in and out, in and out, building a rhythm that I recognized as working toward a finish. The man in front kept banging into the wall with his hands and knees. Back behind me, Johnny was doing the same, fucking me six to eight inches in and out, over and over. I realized that the man in front was sending my body bucking and matching the thrusts behind, such that he pushed in when Johnny did, out when Johnny did, taking me from almost empty to fully plugged, front and back. The man in front pulled out, then sank in deep. ?Oh fuck, I?m going to cum way too soon.? He pulled out a little more, then pushed clear past my voice box and I felt his cock pulse, pumping cum straight down my esophagus and directly into my stomach. Then he pulled out real fast and put his dick up to my nostril. ?Snort it! Shit, I always wanted a bitch to snort my baby makers! Come on, cunt, snort it up!? Cum spit man juice up my nostril and I had spent so much time choking that I had no choice other than to sniff it in. I felt it in my sinuses, and then down my throat. The smell of cum dominated my nose, maybe for days. He jammed his cock up to the other side of my nose, but he?d quit spurting. Still, he rubbed the cum-covered penis head around, working it into my other nostril. ?Shit, she snorted half my load!? He said, likely for Johnny?s benefit. ?Something to remember me by,? he added for my edification. The man rested his cock in my mouth. ?Just nibble a little, and get it clean. God, I don?t want to leave this place, and I have a refrigerated truck of perishables.? ?Time?s up, sir. Thank you for your patronage,? came over a speaker in the room in front of me. ?Ah, hell.? The man backed away. He chuckled. ?For thirty-five bucks, I?m doing this on my way back through, for sure. Maybe every trip.? He pounded on the wall above me. ?You hear that Johnny. And I ain?t telling nobody about this whore. My goddamned secret, far as I?m concerned,? he added before the light in the glory hole got brighter. After some jingling of a pants belt, the door beyond opened and shut. Johnny yelled through the wall, ?Hey, you tell folks. I need word of mouth.? In the meantime, Johnny kept busy fucking my pussy. Fuck! I have a pussy! A real cunt. He?s fucking my snatch. The man pounded away, and then while squeezing my ass cheeks with both sets of claws, a roar of a moan escaped behind me. ?Fuckin? A!? Squirt, squirt, squirt. Squirt, squirt, squirt. Squirt, squirt, squirt. Squirt, squirt, squirt. Squirt, squirt, squirt. The man filled my cunt with his cum. Even before he pulled out, I felt it dripping down the inside of my thigh. The man in front unclipped my tongue so I could lap at him with my lips around his prick. Then he went back to pounding away, but his dick also kept getting smaller and the lubricant of his cum caused less friction. Thank god for his cum. It helped. Johnny pulled out, and my pussy dripped more of his cum. I still had some cum on my chin, but couldn?t scratch it. Damn, the man in front?s time was over, and he exited the room on the other side of the glory hole. he left my nose clipped to the other side. ?Flip over. I want to suck those tits!? I wiggled, but my nose was stuck. Since I didn?t have to hold my ass up anymore, I fell to my knees. The strain on my back eased a fair amount. ?Ah, hell,? Johnny said. Instead, he sat straddling my ankles and leaned over to give me a hug, but mostly just to reach around and squeeze my boobs and nipple rings. The bells on those jingled. He went straight for the nipples a lot, pinching and manipulating them with his thumbs. ?Hell yeah. I love tits. I?m gonna fuck your boobs, tomorrow.? He grabbed them meatily and swung them side to side. ?This setup is fucking perfect. All the pussy I want, and I get paid for giving it away when I?m busy doing something else. You know you?re going to pay off what I spent for you in six months, tops. After that it?s gravy and cranberry with pumpkin pie.? He slapped me on the ass and left the room. Silence. Then the sound of the door opening on the other side of the wall. A man with a squeaky voice said, ?Lordamighty, they done hooked that white girl?s nose to a ring. Ha!? He unzipped his pants, and I heard them fall with a thump and jingle of keys. I could see through the hole a little, and the penis wasn?t very big, this time. Maybe I?d get a little bit of a breather. He stuck it in my mouth and said, ?Make it tight. Give it some tongue, bitch!? And if I didn?t? What would it feel like if a train of men had at my new pussy? Or worse still, when Johnny stuck his boot up my ass? It?d fucking kill me! As it stood, I?d not shit right for a week. Oh sure, he?d not get that boot all the way in on the first try, but he?d keep up until I?d stretched enough to get that thing in. Maybe he?d even have me practice while locked in his closet. I make my lips tight around his penis, and rubbed the head of this new stranger?s dick with my tongue. Make the man happy, whatever it takes. Blow jobs had to be the easier of all my options. ?Damn, bitch!? He blew his load in half a minute. After that he just wiggled his four inches in and out or rested it in my mouth. ?Swirl around on it a while. I can?t believe how relaxing that is. Shit, I?ve still got thirteen minutes. Maybe I can cum again, if you blow in and out, maybe, like an accordion. That?s it. Oh god. Oh god! Shit, I might cum twice, if you keep that up.? Teamviewer Femdom File By jo199 Chapter Twenty-One. ?This looks damned clean, Sugar Tits. Put all that shit up and crawl on into the living room.? ?Yeth, mather!? I got off my knees, put the cleaning cloth into the bucket and gave him a curtsie from inside the bathtub where I?d been scrubbing. I kept my pinky fingers out and didn?t waver from eyes upon his crotch. It is best not to think about anything. Do not think about anything. Cleaning helped me do that, some. Just get the dirt, make it shine. Don?t think about things, too much. ?Well, hop to it. I?m waiting.? He departed the doorway, and I hustled to clean up the pale and put my cleaning items away in the maid closet. I had on my one-inch heels and basic pantyhose. Over that were white panties and of course my plain-white bra. The pin-striped grey maid uniform was finished by a white maid cap and of course the apron. I kept my arms locked to the side and swung my hips as I walked the hall. Upon entering the living room, I gave a curtsy. ?Mouth! Dick!? I dropped to my knees and crawled over to where Johnny sat on the couch with three pillows behind his back so he could relax and still sit pretty close to the front edge. He patted his crotch. I reached up and unzipped his pants, then fished his penis out. ?Shit, take ?em off. Ain?t no need to be formal.? I slipped his pants off his legs and folded them neatly, setting them aside. No expression. Don?t think too much. Sissies are useless if they think too much. I leaned forward again, and put his penis in my mouth. ?I ain?t hard yet, so you can maybe put everything in, just to start,? he mentioned before picking up his cell phone to scroll through his e-mail. Thus I preceded to work one ball in, then the other, until my cheeks bulged with the man?s cock and balls inside. He prick was growing, and it didn?t have much room to go. After a couple minutes, it was too hard to contain, though, and I just let it slip around until straight, where I could swallow it. There I saw with his balls in my mouth and his penis down my throat. Johnny put down his cell phone and picked up the TV remote. He caught the football game, just about to begin. Before the commercials were over, he picked up the cotton ball, tore it in half, and stuffed each half into my ears. It helped me concentrate. After taking his cock and balls out of my mouth so I could breathe, he put the dick back in and had me just hold it there. He pulled one cotton ball out and said, ?Now remember, when I get soft, tongue it a little. If I get hard, lay off and let it settle. Being a cock warmer is different from a cock sucker. The whole idea is to make it last, unless I want to blow a load, which I?ll let you know, pretty much my how I start to fuck your face. It ain?t complicated, Tits.? ?Yeth thir,? I mumbled around his joint. He put the cotton ball back in. The game was blaring, so I could still hear a little, but it was best to not thing about it much. Best to not think at all. A brain was like baggage, and always best to ignore. The cotton ball came out again. Maybe it was a commercial. ?I got to piss a little. Just swallow. I?ll make it little squirts. Don?t ruin my couch.? The cotton went back in. His dick pulsed, like he was clinching, and then a spot of pee spit out onto the bridge of my mouth. I swallowed. It wasn?t a whole lot, and I was used to the salty taste of dick. He pulled the cotton out and said, ?Good slave.? It went back in, followed by another spurt. That went on about sixty times, spurt, swallow, pause, spurt, swallow, pause, until he ran out of piss. He didn?t even make mention. A tap on my head. And a finger on my chin. The dick slipped out. Master held up an empty beer can. I crawled back, took the can into the kitchen, opened a new one, curtsied at the door, handed the new beer to the master, and got back onto my knees where I took the cock back into my mouth. An hour later he had to pee again, followed by another beer. He watched both games before his girlfriend was coming over. She knocked on the door. I helped the master on with his pants, and quickly shuffled to the door, letting her in while keeping my eyes down to her regal black feet. She was a decent looking woman, but fifty pounds overweight. Truth be told, she was a step up on Johnny, who was also heavy and five years older. She banged the door, coming in around me. ?Your white slave bitch is slow.? ?She had my dick in her mouth. If she lets off too quick, it?ll leave me feeling tingly.? ?What the fuck do you need me for, if you got all this going on?? ?It ain?t nothing. It?s just a slave.? ?I know that, but it?s also a woman. Maybe I should go back home.? ?Don?t be like that, baby. Besides, it only looks like a woman.? ?I know a woman when I see one.? Johnny shrugged. ?Look, next time I come over, I?ll bring her to clean your apartment on Wednesdays. Show you why I bought her. If we get married, she?ll be the nanny and you won?t lift a finger.? ?She?ll be sucking your dick.? ?That ain?t nothing. Mostly she?s my dick warmer. I got her sucking everyone else?s dick.? She sat on the couch, next to him, and glared up at me with hate, while I stood with my hands folded at my crotch, where I?d let my apron fall down. I didn?t have a skirt or top on, so I was just in underwear and an apron, like Johnny liked me on football cock-warmer days. ?I Think eating all your cum has turned her brown.? ?She?s got genetics.? ?Genetics?? She eased up next to him, putting a hand on his leg. ?She ain?t who she used to be. They changed all her genes, so she?s someone else. She don?t even know who she is, they told me. She ain?t nobody. All she knows now, is being my slave. It?s mostly like masturbation.? ?No shit.? ?Fuckin? A.? She tilted her head, looking at me like she was seeing up my downturned head. She asked, ?You know who you are, bitch?? ?Sugar Tits,? I answered. ?You got a real name?? ?Sugar Tits, ma?am.? ?That ain?t a real name.? Johnny interrupted. ?It?s a slave name. Soon as they come off the ship, master give the slave a new name.? She couldn?t help but tweak up a smile. ?I like that. Soon, all those honkeys are gonna be our slaves.? ?Sure as shit. Gotta get in on the ground floor. I?m thinking about buying a couple more for my whore house.? ?That ain?t a whore house. It?s just a room with a couple holes in the wall.? ?Shit, Maybelle. That room?s making me a ton of money. Damn near half the truckers coming through here want their dicks sucked. Even the white dudes.? ?They don?t know what?s coming.? Johnny laughed. ?Soon we?re going to run this country right out from under them honkeys.? ?Is it a lesbian? Maybe I want it to suck my pussy?? ?Shit no. She ain?t no lesbian? What you got me for, woman?? ?Why not? Fair is fair.? Johnny seemed to think about it a while, then he said, ?What the hell. It?s only halftime. In fact, it?s kind of kinky, watching some girl, girl action. Sugar Tits, get down here between my woman?s legs and suck some pussy.? ?Seriously?? She pulled off her panties, hiked her skirt some, and pushed her ass down to the edge of the couch. Johnny reached around and unfastened his lady?s bra, soon cupping a huge breast and then leaning over to suck. ?Get on it, slave! And none of that piddling around, either. I want your face in there like you plan on digging for gold.? She dropped her skirt over my head and wiggled around, spreading her legs even more as I licked her pussy lips and then sucked in her clit. I stuck my tongue and its ring inside real deep then circled around her button. ?Fuck, this slave?s good.? ?Taught her everything she knows. It?s like part of me. You get me, you get a twofer.? ?Maybe I will marry you, Johnny.? ?And we can make lots of little black babies, with a slave to help out. Up with them when they need a late-night tit.? ?She could teach them how to treat white folk,? Johnny said. ?My kids are going to grow up knowing what slavery is all about.? Maybelle moaned. ?Shit. Now I see why you got this bitch around. Restitution.? She put her hands on my head, through the fabric of her skirt, and wiggled me nose into her cunt. ?It?s just like having a good dog, only it don?t lick your face.? What did it matter what they said or did to me. I wasn?t me anymore. I was just carrying around this foreign body that wasn?t even mine. Whatever happened to it wasn?t even involving me. The bitch was some sex doll named Sugar Tits, and just a slave. The real me had already died, making me no more than an observer. I kept on eating, licking my way into a new owner?s pussy. Powerless and eternally trapped in a foreign soul, no longer even imagining the idiot who?d once thought it fun to try Teamviewer sex. ?Wait till you?ve got off.? Johnny put his mouth back on one of Maybelle?s tits and sucked in loudly. He let off with a pop. Maybelle moaned, stiffened her legs and started to tremble with an orgasm. ?Soon as you finish, I want to show you want I can do to Sugar Tits with a boot.?