Art Of The Deal free porn video

Art of the Deal By Cassandra Morgan She was a wheeler. She was a dealer. She was Monte Hall in a dress. She'd trade you her apple for half of your peanut butter sandwich. She'd swap you a two chicken nuggets for a bite of your cheeseburger. She'd trade you this for that, and these for those, and this thingamabob for that doo-hickey. This was the nature of my wife; Savannah. She valued what you had far more than what she had. So she would trade you a old stereo for a new tennis racket, or her shoes for your hat, or she'd pay for a trip to Starbucks if you would go get it. To my wife, everything was a potential deal to be made. An angle to be improved. That was how she got her fun. You want that novel she's reading? What are you ready to give up for it? You want to watch your favorite TV show? What will you trade for the privilege of holding the remote? To Savannah, it was all a game of barter. Once, before we were married, we went to Cozumel, and she traded the shopkeepers crazy. At one store, she traded for two sets of earrings, a necklace and a ring. And all it cost her was a pair of tennis shoes. Sadly, I was wearing them at the time, but she swapped them for her booty, and I walked back to the hotel barefooted. So maybe I shouldn't have been surprised when she turned to me one night and, her eyes gleaming, she smiled a crooked smile. "So, Peaches, you want to make a deal?" I groaned. I absolutely did not want to make a deal. She could out- negotiate me every day of the week, and I knew it. "I'm okay," I said. "No, no. Hear me out. You'll like this deal, Jules. I guarantee it." I sighed. "What are you thinking of?" I said, mostly out of curiosity. "Well, Jules, are you still wearing my clothes?" I flinched. We had reached a stage where we never talked about that. I had told her when we were dating that I liked dressing up, and she said she could deal with it as long as I didn't do it in front of her. Since we've been married, I've dressed just twice; she didn't know about either time as far as I knew. "No, Savannah. I don't. Can we, um, not talk about it?" "Oh, hell, Jules. It's just cloth and chemicals. Nothing to be ashamed of." "Well, I am. Not many boys spend their teenage years trying to be Buffy the Vampire Slayer." "Yeah, but think of all the good you did. I haven't seen a vampire in our neighborhood in years." "Very funny, Savannah." "Hey, I'm trying to make it easy for you. From what I read, most trans girls feel the hunger to dress their whole lives Do you still feel the urges? Deep down, would you want to put on my red dress?" "If I do, I can live with it." "Yeah, Jules, but should you have to live with it? I can make you a deal to get you into skirts. No recriminations. No guilt. You get to wear a dress three times a week. You can wear panties every day." I narrowed my eyes at her. As bad as I might want to, I absolutely wasn't going to trade away anything for the right to wear a skirt. I was over it now. There were nights, a few, I didn't even think about it. "And what do you want in return? My car? My half of the house? My dog?" "Bounder is my dog, thank you very much. But nothing so drastic. I just think it's time to goose our relationship a little bit. Maybe more handcuffs. Maybe a third partner in our bed." "I don't want to trade for either of those." She smiled. "Look, Jules. I've decided it's selfish for me to keep you dressed as a boy. I want you to be happy. This deal is more for you than it is for me." "Fine. I'll bite. What's the trade?" "Okay, here it goes: You get to wear girls' clothes. And makeup. And underwear. I won't say a thing. And all you have to do is be my maid for four days a week." I stared at her. "I'm not doing that," I said. "Being a maid is fucking hard work. The fetish stories don't mention that. Cleaning and cooking and ironing." "Yes. But you get to be pretty. You get to be soft. Imagine the panties over your dick. Imagine the bra straps digging into your shoulders. Imagine the hose on your legs. Don't you want that? Don't you miss it?" I felt my penis twitch. Hell, down deep, of course I missed it. Doesn't very teen boy who puts on a dress hate the day he takes it off? For someone who dresses, this isn't casual. This is a burning desire. But four days a week? Every week? That was too high a price to pay. "I'm sorry, Savannah," I said. "But I'm going to turn down your offer. I mean, I'll admit that it's an intriguing notion. But to jump into the deep end feels wrong to me." "What if I throw in lipstick? Remember the way it feels as it slides over your lips? And mascara. You can absolutely die for mascara. And perfume?. A good feminine perfume. Something that smells like angels. You can be a girl for four days a week. A beautiful, feminine girl. No shame. No hiding. Just beauty." "Why do you care?" I said. "When we got married, you made me stop dressing to be your man." She laughed. "Oh, Peaches. You were never quite a man. You know, I was reading a story in Cosmo on why women picked effeminate partners instead of manly types. You know what it said? It said with pretty boys, women are more secure that you wouldn't jack around on them? Unless, of course, it's with those same manly types. So what if I threw in a make-out session with a macho guy?" "Stop it, Savannah You know I don't want a guy. I married you, didn't I?" "I know nothing of the sort. Wouldn't you want to grab hold of a guy's ass and feel all the hair that grows there for real men? Wouldn't you like him to throw you on the bed and stick his cock in your lips? Wouldn't it be the best experience of your life?" "I can't talk to you when you're like this," I said. "You aren't thinking." "Let's both think about it, okay? I want you to be sure. I want you to get what you want in the barter." "Savannah...why now? We've been married three years. That's more than a thousand nights that knew ... of my old hobby. Why now?" She smiled. "Why not? There is so much news these days about your sort. About you sissies. I see you look at what I wear every morning. I see the longing on your face." "Savannah, it's not easy. I admit it. It's constant withdrawal, like from meth or something. I gave it all up for you. Would you wave heroin in front of an addict's face? That's what you're doing." "Nonsense. I'm fulfilling a need. That's all. Clothes aren't drugs. They're just clothes. Think about it. A good trade is one that benefits both parties, right? You get what you want. I get what I want." My mouth was dry. I could hear my own heartbeat. "I'm going to bed," I said. I turned to walk away. "Just think, Peaches. You could be putting on a nightgown tonight. You could feel pretty. You could stroke your legs through the satin. You could be a girl. No one is stopping you." I looked at her. Was it really so important to her that she won the trade? Hell, she had already won the moment. All those dormant feelings were growing in me again. I was imagining that wonderful blend of cloth and colors. I trudged up to bed. I stripped down to my boxers and climbed underneath the comforter. I felt empty. Savannah followed me in to the bed room, still talking. She wasn't going to give up easily. I supposed that's why she has been sales person of the month for three straight months. "Look at this black dress, Jules," she said, holding open her closet door. "Isn't it pretty? It's got an A-line skirt, so it will sway when you move. And how about this blue one with the sheer shoulders? You'd look like a proper secretary in this one. Do you think they'd accept you at your work if you were a secretary? Can you imagine bringing Bailey his morning coffee? Can you imagine being kissed at the company Christmas party? How about this white sundress? Aren't the strawberries on it pretty?" I rolled over, away from her closet. I closed my eyes. "That's right, Jules. Close your eyes and imagine it. Imagine the cloth on your body. Your hose. Your bra. Your dress. Your makeup. Imagine walking across the room and having everyone stare at your legs. All you have to do is make the trade. Just four days a week." "It's wrong. I gave all that up," I said meekly. "No. You went just into hibernation for a while. What do the sci-fi writers call it. Stasis? You put your girlie nature on ice for three years. Shit, Jules. Stop playing hard to get. You know you want this. You know you need this. You need it like a walking man needs a car." "It would change my life.Maybe both of our lives." "Of course it will. It'll make it better. You'll be fulfilled, happy. I'll have a clean house. Hell, Jules, you wouldn't even mind being a maid, do you? Yeah, its hard work, but you want it. It's such a feminine job. You want to get up in the morning and put on your dress and make me coffee. You want to feel complete. You want to play the role of curtseying and cleaning." "I'm going to sleep now, Savannah. You're driving me crazy." "Well, you get your beauty sleep, girlie. You dream of being my maid. Stop fighting it. Just embrace it. Think about checking on dinner while it cooks. Think about answering the door for the mailman. I'm offering you the trade ... of your life." She turned the light off. It wasn't a sex night. I lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, imagining pinks and lavenders. I thought about the way a corset used to feel. I thought about breast forms. I thought about mincing around the house with a vacuum. As I lay there, I realized I was hard. Of course, I wanted to make the trade. Why wouldn't I want it? But was it worth the price? Was it worth wearing dresses all the time? Was it worth ironing laundry? Cooking her meals? Being a servant girl? I rolled over again. Maybe I should trade. For a week maybe. No, that wasn't long enough. A month? Three months? I could do that. Couldn't I? I looked at the clock. It was 3:30 a.m. I stared into Savannah's sweet, sleeping face. It looked so innocent, so pure. I touched her shoulder. She opened her eyes, staring at me. I'm sure she could see the doubt in my eyes. Maybe the acceptance. "Okay," I whispered. "You've got a deal." * * I woke up late the next morning, and I stumbled into the kitchen. Savannah was already there, humming. She had the coffee brewing. On the chair were I sat was a simple gray maid's dress, complete with an apron. There was lingerie there, too. A pair of black heels were on the floor. "See what i got you?" She said. "I bought it last week. I've been dying to give it to you." "Last week? Last week, we didn't have a trade. Why would you buy them before I agreed?" "Oh, I figured we would work something out," she said, laughing softly. "Baby, I know who you are. You're a sissy. That's why this deal is so good for you. You're going to be a great maid for a long time." "Speaking of that, Savannah, I was thinking. I think we need a trial period, like a test drive. I was thinking about a week. We'll see if it works for both of us." Savannah furrowed her eyebrows. "Uh-uh, baby. The deal has been struck. You can't renegotiate after the fact. We have an open-ended agreement." "Open-ended? That's absurd. I won't do open-ended." She sighed. "For the record, you did agree to my terms. I could hold you to that. A deal is a deal. But this time, I'll be nice, okay? You give me ... five years. That's the price of a standard car purchase. But in return, you have to wear a butt plug while you work. One of those little ones with a raccoon's tail on it." "A what? No. God, no. Five years is a fucking prison sentence. I won't do five years." "Prison? That gives me an idea. If you wear a chastity belt, too, plus the butt plug, and -- let's see -- a penis gag, and I'll knock the deal down to four years." "Savannah, that's too long." "Four years? It's only a presidential term. An Olympics. But you also have to serve on an occasional weekend in case I throw a party." "Serve?" "Well, of course. Have you ever heard of a maid that didn't serve? Jesus. Are you trying to take advantage of me?" "Of you? Me take advantage of you? You must be kidding." "Tell you what," she said. "I know this is a big step for you. So I'll go as low as three years and three times a week. Instead of a penis gag, we tattoo your make-up on." "Tattoo. But that's forever." "Nah, they just say that. It lasts a long time, but it'll have faded by the time you've served your four years." "Three. You said three years." "Damn. You drive one hard bargain, Juliet. Okay. Three years and two months. Three days a week. That's my final offer." "Juliet?" "Juliet goes with the job," she said. "You can call me Romeo. I wondered what light broke through yon window." "Funny." "Okay, we have a deal. Thirty-eight months. Now get your sweet ass upstairs and shave. I'll expect you to be dressed in 20 minutes. There are dishes that need washing." "Shit, Savannah. Already? Is this one of my three days?" "It is if I say it is. And you need to get used to it. But normally, I'll schedule you for Monday, Wednesday and Friday. You can go out cruising for dick on Saturdays." "I don't want dick." "You sure? I can get you a used one with low miles for a cut-rate price. It wouldn't take much of a deal. Make me an offer." Instead, trudged up the stairs. I walked into the bathroom. I looked into the mirror. Shit. Had I really agreed to do this? * * The next morning, I took care to dress slowly. I shaved, smiling at the memory of the leg stubble disappearing. I slid on my hose and walked around, reveling in the feeling. I pulled up my panties, and it was delicious. I fastened my bra. I thought about wearing my corset, but I decided I wouldn't on the first day. I put on wig, which was harder to manage than I would have imagined. The make-up, though, was easier. A memory from my teenage years. I put on the lipstick last, and I smiled at myself in the mirror. It was tremendously exciting. I preened. I twirled. I felt as if every ounce of my body was feminine. I felt pretty. Yeah. I could do this for 38 months. I went downstairs and began to putter around the kitchen, doing touch- up working. The dishes were clean, and the laundry was folded and put away. The beds had been made. The vacuuming had been done. It really wasn't that hard. Good thing. I would be doing a lot of it. I felt, frankly, wonderful. I have always loved the feel of panties. They're my comfort clothing, to tell you the truth. I liked bras, but panties were part of me, part of all of us. The dress fit wonderfully, hugging my sides. My breast forms were far too big -- but Miss Savannah said bigger was better. "Now, Juliet," Savannah was saying. "We need to buy your plug and your cage this morning. Maybe some handcuffs. Think about what else you want. And about what you'll swap to get them." "Savannah, haven't I done enough? How much of a sissy do you want me to be?" "A huge one, my dear. I want you to be the queen of all the sissies. Embrace it. You're a limp wristed fairy princess. And you won't wear pants ever again." "Not for Thirty-eight months," I said. "Oh, I suppose that's right. That's only 1,156 days. Start the countdown. Anyway, we have to be back soon. We're going to your parents' house tonight." "My parents? You aren't going to have me wear a dress are you?" "Well, why wouldn't I? I told you it's one of your days. You wear a maid's dress on your days. They'll understand" "I'm not ready for that, Savannah. I don't want my mother to see me like this. My father, either. Can we put it off?" "Don't forget your sister Traci. She'll love seeing you in one of your own dresses. You wore hers enough, she tells me." "She...she talks about that?" "Why wouldn't she? If you were RuPaul's sister, or Caitlyn Jenner's, wouldn't you talk about it? She's going to love seeing you." "Savannah. Please. What can we trade to put it off?" "Oh, hell, Juliet. You know they're going to see you eventually." "Not this weekend, though. Please. I need to work up to that." She shrugged. "I supposed we could delay until next week. What's your proposal?? "I'll...I'll wear jewelry if you want. Rings. Bracelets. All of it." "That's not much of an offer, Peaches. How about this: You get your ears pierced. Maybe your tongue. At Barbara's salon. Where you'll have a complete makeover. Won't that be fun? Spas are a girls' comfort one, Juliet. You'll love it there." "Why do I need a makeover?" "Because you're serving tonight." "But you said..." "I said no to visiting your parents. I didn't say no to any other kind of hospitality. We'll have a few of our friends over for drinks. You'll be the topic of conversation, I promise you." "But...who?" "Oh, Janice. Emma and Clark. Bobby. Shanique and Marcus. Maybe a couple of others." "They'll ... see me." "Well, I certainly hope so. We wouldn't want you to be invisible. Juliet, you have to realize this. All of your friends are going to see you eventually. Your boss will see you. Your family. They'll know all about you. You're a maid for a more than a thousand nights." "I won't do it. The deal's off. I'll go back to being male." Her eyes narrowed in anger. "If you renege on our deal, it'll be like reneging on our wedding vows. Do you want that? You want to see me leave? I can find some other pussy boy. Another who's hiding a face you want to suck. Maybe your friend Bobby." "Bobby's my golf buddy. That's all." "Yeah? How do you grip his putter?" "Savannah!" "Juliet, I'm only going to say this once You made a deal. And you stick to it, or there will be hell to pay." "Yes, ma'am." "Hah. I like that. Wait. Call me Miss. What do you want me to trade so you can call me Miss? A tattoo on your hip, maybe. Painted nails?" "I want to be a boy." "No, I'm afraid that trade has already gone through. But how about collagen lips? Big, juicy, cock-sucking lips. How about a corset to go with your uniform? How about more heels? Or you could go for the really big deal you really want. Boobs. Maybe even a va-jay-jay." "That's the wrong direction, Savannah. I want to be less girly, not more." "Fine. How about we reduce the size of your breast forms for now? A C- cup maybe, instead of the DDs you have. You could use those for pool floats." "How about a B-cup?" "Wow. You drive a hard bargain. Okay, we'll pick a set of Cs up at the Adult Store. I'm sure everyone will like them, Juliet. I'm sure they'll like the new life you've traded into." I blinked. I had made that trade? Shit. Like all good sales people, Savannah had a gift for shifting the argument to the smallest detail. You might be negotiating a price on a new Honda, and suddenly, you were deciding what color your new car would be. This was like that. She was talking about something that didn't matter much, like boob size, and then she was gluing them to your chest. I couldn't keep up. "Now, tonight," Savannah was saying. "All the guys are 'Sir.' All the women are 'Miss.' You will curtsey when you take their clothes or you serve them. As far as public discussion goes, I think we can agree this would sound better if it was your idea. Just admit to your friends that you've always wanted to be a sissy, and things will take care of themselves." "Yes, Savannah," I said. "That's 'Yes, Miss Savannah. I traded for it." "Yes, Miss Savannah." "God, you're going to be precious. What a good horse trader you are. You should be very proud of yourself." This was happening so fast my head was spinning. Just yesterday, I was a husband. Now, I'm a domestic in my own home. For three fucking years. There was no running away from it. No hiding. I had traded my life away. * * The next afternoon, we finally stopped by Fantasies to pick up my toys. Miss Savannah attached a pink collar to me and led me into the shop. "A leash?" I asked. "It's just for show. Go with it." "Aren't you supposed to trade me something for me to wear it?" She smiled. "Now you're getting into it. Okay. What do you want to wear a collar and leash?" I thought for a minute. "I want to go down to two days a week." "Not happening. I was thinking about four days a week." "Four! You're high." "I wish. Tell you what. You go to four days a week, and you wear the collar and leash, and I won't make you try out prostitution tonight." "Prostitution. That's never been part of our deals." "It goes with being a maid,' she said. "Look it up. It's in the fine print." "What fucking fine print?" "Look, as bad as I could use the money we're spending to buy your shit, I don't want to put you on the streets. But I will if I have to." I sighed. I looked at Miss Savannah. "You're making things up as you go," I said. "Oh, shit, Juliet. It's fun. It's exciting. There is danger there, and there is sex, and there are thrills. Imagine some John fucking your ass." I shook my head. "Okay, you can use the leash if you won't make me a hooker." "And you go. to four days a week?" "Shit. I guess. If you make me." She smiled. You'll like it. Remember, originally, I wanted five days a week. This is still slacking off, three days a week. Half the time, you'll just be another girl." She led me inside. She walked to the chastity belts. There was one with a pink, small tube. "I hope this isn't too big for you," Miss Savannah said. "It's the size of my ear lobe," I said. "Yeah. So is your dingle. I wonder if they'll let us wear it out?" The butt plug she picked up, in contrast, seemed huge. That was going to go inside my ass? That was huge! You could orbit the earth in that! "It'll feel nice," Miss Savannah said. "You'll see. A sissy maid needs to feel good as she works. Where's the lube?" We looked around the shop. Miss Savannah picked up a strap on and a belt. She looked at me and winked. "Who's the wife now?" she said. She picked up a ball gag. She picked up a pair of handcuffs. "You know my problem, sissy? I get into a place like this, and it's like eating potato chips. I just can't stop. Now, let's lock that cage on you. You'll like it. Most sissies do." "I don't like it already," I said. "It's punishment." "Oh, don't think of it like that. It's just putting your erection into my hands. Who else should decide when you come?" I looked at the floor. "Juliet? Should I buy a paddle? Are you going to behave?" "Yes, Miss," I said. "I'll be good." After all, what choice did I have? * * The doorbell rang, and I flounced toward it. I felt self-conscious, dressed in my black maid's dress and heels, but I forced a smile when I opened the door. "Holy shit," Bobby said, looking me up and down. "Hi, Bobby," I said. "Won't you come in?" "Holy shit," Bobby said. "Bobby, it's just me. Have I changed that much?" "Holy shit," Bobby said. "I know," I said. "Miss Savannah and I made a deal. I agreed to dress like this for a while." "Holy shit," he said again. "Bobby. We're friends, okay? This is just how I'm going to dress for a while." "A while? How long?" "Three years," I said softly. "I'm .... Miss Savannah and I made a trade." "Shit. Three years! That's a lifetime! I hope you got a house or something. There is nothing I'd trade that would end up with me being a sissy....I mean, a maid! Fuck, how do you ever come back from that? Would you just start wearing suits again? Are you this way for good?" "Hello Bobby." I turned at the sound of Miss Savannah's voice. "You're looking fine tonight." "Hi, Savannah. I was just talking to your...girl here." "Yes. Isn't she the sweetest thing? She wanted this, you know. She begged me to trade in her old life for this one. She's very happy. Look at those lips. Aren't they luscious? "If you say so, Miss," I said. "I do say so. It's what you get when you're caught sucking that guy from your gym off." Bobby's jaw dropped. "You sucked a guy off? I mean, did you swallow his sperm and everything?" "She's kidding, Bobby," I said. "I'm not," Miss Savannah said, winking at Bobby. "But when she came, she called out your name! Isn't that flattering? She's a wild one, this one. Even after I caught her, she wouldn't stop sucking." "Christ, Jules. You really are gay, aren't you? I guess I always knew. I thought I saw you checking out my dick when we were in the gym." "Miss Savannah. Please tell him the truth. This is embarrassing enough." "The truth is she talks about you all the time, Bobby. But if she wants me to lie and change my story, it'll cost her. What do you have to trade, Sugar Plum?" "Um....um...what do you want?" "Let's see. How about if you take these little pills. Two pills twice a day. They're little. That's all. And I'll tell everyone how I really forced you to be a sissy because I'm so mean and all." "What's in these pills, Miss?" "Heaven, Juliet. There is heaven in those pills. They're magic pills. You know, like the beans in Jack and the Bean Stalk. You'll thank me." I walked back into the room. I'm not an idiot. I knew those silly pills probably contained estrogen. I knew they would make my breasts grow. But for the time being,I needed Miss to support me from the expected onslaught. I could stop taking the pills later. And, yes, the day was difficult. For three hours, the guests peppered me. Emma wanted to know where I got my shoes. Marcus wanted to know if sucked black men. Shanique told me that if I sucked anywhere of hers, she'd cut me. She was kidding, I think Clark told me about meeting one of "my kind" in Key West and he ended up with a handful of nuts. Janice asked if I was available to clean her house. Bobby asked me if I was giving up golf, or if we could play nine next Saturday morning. Marcus asked me if I would kiss him. Shanique thought that would be okay. Emma asked if those were my real boobs. Shanique asked how big they would grow. Marcus said that it was his dick that was growing and asked if I could do something about it. Janice said she was glad I had accepted my destiny. Savannah asked Marcus if "destiny" was the name of his dick. Bobby said it was cool that we now had a tranny in our group. Janice asked if we knew any lesbians. Savannah said she was willing to learn. The room went from outrage to scorn to humor to acceptance. It was amazing to me how quickly I became the trans girl in the group. The other women gathered around me, and we talked about shoes and sales and men and cheating and body odor and football and movies and cleaning supplies. For all the fear I'd had, for all the jokes I endured, I was glad that our friends knew about me now. I was the sissy. I was the maid. I was the newborn girl. And I spent a lot of time smiling. * * I was still cleaning up the mess from the party the next morning. Beer bottles were everywhere. Someone had hidden an appetizer in the couch. There were dishes stacked to the ceiling. But I didn't really mind. It was my job, and it was easy enough to lose myself. "Hey, maid," Miss Savannah said. "You're going to be busy for a while, aren't you?" "Yes, Miss," I said, spurring around the kitchen. "You like it though, don't you? Being submissive?" "I...I guess," I said. She smiled. "See how good at this trading shit you are. You're a real Trader Joe." "I think you've gotten everything you wanted, Miss," I said. She giggled. "Not everything," she said. "What could you possibly want now," I asked. "Oh, how do I put this?" she said. "What I really want is a dose of Marcus." "Excuse me?" "You got what you want, Juliet. You're a sissy. Not a cross-dresser. Not a transexual. You're a fucking sissy. Your friends all know it. Your mother will soon know it Your boss will find out. You hoodwinked me into letting you be a maid. So I think it's only fair that you throw Marcus into the mix. You can even watch. But I want that man in my bed." "But .. what about Shanique?" "Ah, hell. I'll fuck her, too. I bought that strap on. I'd love to climb on a girlfriend and be her man. But first, I want to fuck her man. "Savannah, that would be cheating." "No, Juliet. It would be me getting some after you did. You fucked Bobby last night in the spare bedroom. I know you did. It's just fair that I get to fuck Marcus." "Savannah, I never fucked Bobby. Never." "Well, that's your fault. Maybe you should trade him your ass for his dick. That's an even swap, right?" "Savannah. You're getting carried away with this." She shrugged. "It's the way the world works. A goat for two chickens. A sack of beans for a sack of flour. My ring for yours." "I guess..." "No, Juliet. I mean it. My wedding rings for yours. What do you think You get two rings, and I just get that gold band. Let's swap." "I won't swap my wedding band." "But the girls' ring looks better on your hand. And then, I don't have to look at my rings when I fuck Marcus." She was yanking my chain. Deep down, I knew that. She wouldn't fuck around on me. She just wanted to get a rise out of me. "Fine," I said, sarcastically. "Fuck Marcus. See if I care. What will you trade me?" "Bobby?" "Bobby's my friend. We don't fuck." "You and I were friends before we fucked," she said. "That's different." "Depends on whether it's your dick or his, doesn't it?" Savannah said. "That's gross," I said. "It's fun," she said. "You'll see. So what's the trade? I get Marcus, and you get Bobby. You'll throw in a fourth day each week as a maid." "Bobby doesn't want me," I said. "If he doesn't, you get to pick up a guy at a bar," Miss Savannah said. "Any guy you want. Maybe a sweaty guy just back from the gym. Maybe an old guy whose wife is out of town. Maybe a linebacker with one tooth." "Miss Savannah? Would you really cheat on me?" "It's not cheating, Juliet. Whoever heard of the lady of the house being married to the fucking maid? You may be gay, but I'm not a lesbian. Well, except for that one time with Shanique. But that was just for fun." "Miss. Can we stop all the trading? I never win. It's just another way of getting me to do what you want." "And now, I want Marcus. I want you to sit at the bottom of the bed and watch us as he cuckolds you. I want you to lick him out of me. You're a submissive maid, Juliet. It's time you accepted that you're a lesser being than I am." "I'm not ... lesser." "Not to Bobby. He thinks you're cute. But I've always thought Bobby kind of dabbled with chicks with dicks, you know? Sluts with nuts? It's okay. It's just the kind of sex he likes. And now you can like it, too." Bobby was...a trans hunter? Damn. That could explain a lot. He never dated that much. Maybe he liked sausage in his panties. Who was I to criticize? * * * The next night, I finally agreed to go to my parents house. I walked in, wearing a yellow maid's dress. I looked like Suzie Sunshine, like some glowing ball of femininity released into the world. "Hey, Mr. Williams. Mrs. Williams," Savannah said as she walked into the door first. Then I wafted in. My father looked at me and shook his head. My mother smiled. "Oh, don't you look precious, Jules," she said. "I was hoping you'd come out of the closet earlier." "Well, I had to convince her, Mrs. Williams. She was wearing my clothes, so I thought she should just tell the world who she is. I call her Juliet." "Oh, that's great. I was going to name her Julia if she had been a girl. Well, I guess she is a girl now." "Fucking faggot," my father said. "Hi, Dad," I said. "How are you?" "My son is a homo," he said. "How do. you think I am?" "Dad. Please be nice." "Why? You want to suck my dick, too, you ass-bandit." "Mr. Williams, can Juliet get you a beer?" "I'll get my own," my father snarled. "I don't want to catch anything." "Mr. Williams. There are a lot of homosexuals out there these days. You were in the Navy. You must have known some gay guys." "Pearson," my father said. "He fucked Howell all across the China Sea." "See. Gays are everywhere." "Howell was a good kisser," my father said. "Dad!" "Well, he was. And those nights got lonely. But that doesn't make me gay. It was just ... circumstance." "Mrs. Williams? Tell me about Juliet dressing in her sister's clothes?" "Traci? Well, it started when he was a kid. And it continued into his teenage. years. I thought she was going to have a sex-change operation in high school." "Well, isn't that sweet? Did she have any boyfriends?" "I'm sure she did. Most young girls do." "Mom, I wasn't a girl." "Well, you are now. Are you two going to get a divorce? Can you work through this?" "We're trying, Mrs. Williams. It's hard when you're forced to be a lesbian, though." "I liked being a lesbian." "Mom!" "Well, I did. You're father was in the Navy, getting semen from sea men. I worked with Rosie Hunt. That woman could take. you to heaven." Jesus. I was supposed to come out to my parents, and both of them had come out to me. Shit. I never had a chance. Both of my parents were gay? Was Traci fucking a goat somewhere? What else could shock me? "Mr. Williams? Did. you ever wear a butt plug?" "Me? Oh, hell no. I mean, we would take cucumbers from the mess, and you know." "We did that when your Dad came home," Mrs. Williams said. "But he always liked a real dick better." Miss Savannah was laughing as we left. "My Lord, did I marry into a Gay Pride family," she said. "I feel like going out and kissing a girl myself." She looked at me and smiled. "Want to swap your family for mine?" * * * There are a lot of differences between Marcus and I, I thought as I watched his naked body lie beside Miss Savannah's. For one thing, his back muscles rippled. His arms were huge. And his penis look like some sort of serpent. There at the foot of the bed, it was all too much for me. I tried not to look at the scene in front of me with any jealousy at all. Jealousy suggests possession, and it was clear I didn't possess Miss Savannah. She had made it clear that she didn't need to trade anything to me to claim her sexual independence. She slid over Marcus, her pale skin contrasting with his dark. It would have been a beautiful clash of colors if only his dick wasn't jammed into her so deeply that she might taste flesh. I never had anything close to his cock. Or his arms or his back or his stomach, for that matter. He make me feel small and weak. I looked at his balls, and I looked at mine, and I felt an urge to go run the vacuum cleaner, you know? I was emasculated simply by the sight of it. They had sex. Then they had it again. Then again. I didn't think they'd ever stop. Then Miss Savannah looked at me. Again, her eyes twinkled. "I have a trade for you, Peaches," she said. "Yes, Miss?" "Yeah. If you clean me, and you do a nice job, then I'll let you clean Marcus. Does that sound like an even swap to you." I looked at her red vagina, wet and wide. I looked at his dick, still semi-hard. "That works for me, Miss," I said. I was beaten. I wouldn't offer any more resistance. Hell, all of the trades were things I wanted. The dress. The jewelry. The cage. The plug. Her fake penis. All of it. If I had it all to do over again, I'd make every deal. Of course, I'd probably be serving for more days, and more years. I'd have more lovers, and more chores. But who was I kidding. When the terms of my trades were over, I'd renew. I clambered over the mattress, toward their crotches. It was cleaning time. * * Two weeks over, I was changing clothes, putting on a polka dotted uniform, when a knock came at together door. I minced toward it. Bobby. He was standing there, a goofy smile on his face. "You want to watch baseball?" "I don't watch much sports anymore," I said. "How about a movie? Bohemian Rhapsody is on HBO." "Bobby, come in. Kick your shoes off." Miss Savannah said. "Did you kiss Juliet hello?" "No," I said. "Not yet," Bobby said. "Juliet! That just rude. Now kiss Bobby this instant." I sighed. I leaned in, and I smelled his cologne. His goatee tickled me as his lips touched mine. "That's sweet. Now you two lovebirds sit on the couch. Bobby, pit your arm around her. Juliet, touch his cock." I blushed, but I pit my hand om his package." "Deal time," Miss Savannah said. "Bobby, would like her butt or a blow job first?" "Miss!" I said. "Hush. This. Isn't your deal. This is Bobby's. Lips or hips, Bobby." "Oh. Can I start out with oral and go to anal? I'd like to play with dick, too, if you could unlock her." "Well, you want it all, don't you? Tell you what. Juliet will suck your dick. Twice. You can fuck her once. But then, you have to suck off Marcus." "But I'm a top..." "I want to see it. I want to see your lips suck him off. I want to see you rub the knob over your lips like it was lipstick. I want to see my man sucked off by her man." Miss Savannah won her deal. She always does. Looking on, I knew she didn't care if Bobby and Marcus had sex or fell in love or moved in together. She just wanted to have her way. As usual, she got it. * * * On Saturday, I was at hard at work doing the dishes when Mistress Savannah walked into the kitchen. I turned and curtseyed, keeping my eyes on the floor. She held up her hand. "We have someplace to go this morning," she said. "I've joined a support group for Mistresses. You cannot conceive of how hard the stress is, Juliet. I have to buy you dresses, and I have to make sure your makeup is right, and I have to find the right bed partner for you. It's a lot of worry, just to keep a sissy in line." "I'm sorry to be such a burden, Miss." "Don't be a smart ass, Juliet. I spend a lot of money on your upkeep. You're much harder to keep than the dog." I didn't even flinch. She was comparing me to Bounder, the dog, but it was okay. At least I didn't have fleas. The support group convened in a meeting hall at the Fourth Baptist Church downtown. I followed Miss into the great room. There, the Mistresses gathered in a corner. The sissies milled around on their own. Miss Savannah went up to a tall, think man with blond hair. She kissed him on the cheek. "Juliet, this is Master Jimmy Bob. That's Fluffer, his sissy." I curtsied to them both. Then Fluffer took my hand and led me outside. "My Master doesn't let me listen," she said. "What's it like having a Master?" I asked. "I feel like a pincushion," she giggled. "But he's nice. He doesn't spank me much." "Miss Savannah spanks me some," I said. "But I usually deserve it." "Juliet? Are you wearing your cage?" "Yes, Fluffer. I am." "Want to rub it against mine. It'll remind us both we can't get hard. But we can kiss and play boobies." "Oh. Okay. We can do that." I slid next to her, but then the doors opened. Master Jimmy Bob and Miss Savannah came out. Miss Savanah looked at me. She grinned. "We've made a trade," she said. Uh-oh. "A trade?" "Yes. I was talking to Master Jimmy Bob, and I mentioned that you were a great cocksucker. Evidently, Fluffer isn't. But Flower can fix cars, and you can't. So we're going to trade you two. She's mine, and you're his. I think it'll work out for everyone." "But Mistress. You can't..." "I can't? Did you say I can't, you insolent little fag? I can do what I want. But don't get your panties in a wad. We're going to trade you two for Monday and Tuesday. Then you come home. Unless I trade two more days to Bobby." "Miss. Please don't trade me. I love you." She smiled. "And I love you. And I'll keep you and I'll protect you and I'll sleep with you." She hesitated. "Unless someone offers me an Ipad for you, that is." Copyright, 2019 Cassandra Morgan (c)