A man "on the make" has his tables turned, permanently, by a dominating female. There are potent elements of forced feminization (including cross-dressing, exhibitionism and humiliation), strong discipline, harsh bondage, severe punishments, coerced male-to-male contacts, non-consensual watersport activities, and the forced wearing of a special chastity belt.

Contents:

Chapter 1 -- The Pick-up -- His fascination with her handcuffs leads to his introduction into a regime of strict bondage and discipline.

Chapter 2 -- Intensified Training -- Certain parts of his anatomy are taught new respect, and he is made to suffer intense indignities.

Chapter 3 -- Metamorphosis -- He is inexorably turned into a sissy whore, through harsh training, in his new specially-chosen wardrobe.

Chapter 4 -- Out on the Town -- He comes out into the public and his new skills are tested in a "rough trade" bar.

Chapter 5 -- Now and Forever -- Events following the establishment of his new role in life.

Note:

Please do NOT email me, asking me to send missed postings by return email. I WILL REPOST chapters missed to this newsgroup, but can only do it in small parts (chapters) due to the limitations of the anonymous remailer.

Of course, I would appreciate positive comments and suggestions, but not flames, which will be ignored.

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Chapter 1 -- The Pick-up

Every year I waited eagerly for the three days when PC-Expo was back in town. In the past, I was always able to find some willing and naive out-of-town female to pick up, "do the nasty," and say my hasty good-bys. Most of them were from some small hick town and were entranced with the Big Apple. In fact, that was both the nickname for the city, and for me. Most women just couldn't wait to sink their teeth into me.

So there I was, looking for some love, on the last day of the three-day convention. I walked up and down the aisles, past many displays, until I spotted my newest target -- my conquest to be. I stood back for a while and carefully watched her.

I couldn't keep my eyes off her as she smiled sweetly and greeted her visitors. She stood about five and a half feet tall, had flowing black hair, and a great body. What I loved most were her lips, which I could imagine encircling my cock and then slowly and wonderfully slurping up and down on it. She was wearing an almost see-through white no-sleeve blouse and a short white skirt. When she turned around and bent over to find some literature -- I made sure to position myself so that I could watch -- I licked my lips when I noticed a bit of visible panty line. This is going to be great, I thought. I didn't want to appear as though I was loitering, so I found every excuse I could to walk up and down the aisles past her company's display before I would make my move on her.

I swaggered over to her and began asking some innocuous questions about memory management and the speed of data transfer for her company's products. I didn't bother to listen to her answers as I glanced down at her neckline. I made some small talk about the hot and humid weather we were having, and then I asked her to join me for some coffee at the end of her day. I tried to sound understanding as I facetiously mentioned that it must have been just "wonderful" for her to have had to stand on her high heels all day, and I joked that what she really needed was a foot massage. Her eyes lit up when I said this and she agreed to join me for coffee, and the way she answered me made me assume that there was more than coffee in store for the evening. She told me not to wait there for her since she didn't want her coworkers to know about our "date," but, rather, to wait outside at the main entrance to the exhibition hall.

About 30 minutes after the end of the show, I was still standing impatiently outside and I hoped I that I wasn't being stood up, since all my time and efforts would have been wasted. I never liked waiting for anything -- especially while buses, taxis and truck rumbled past, spewing out their noxious fumes -- and I was getting angrier by the minute. Then, I spotted her, finally, coming out, and I greeted her rudely, and stupidly, it turned out, saying, "It's about time you showed up." She looked surprised, as though I had slapped her, and quickly apologized to me. However, her bouncy smile turned to one of caginess and wariness.

"Why don't you hail a cab. I want to go back to my hotel to clean up first," she told me. Now this sounded much more promising. I stepped out into the street, raised up my hand, and within 15 seconds, a cab stopped next to us. "Penn Hotel, please," she told the driver.

She was sullen and silent for several blocks, and then whispered to me that she wanted to pay me back for having to wait. I again got my hopes up as the cab stopped in front of the hotel.

We rode up in the elevator to the fifteenth floor, got off and walked to the end of the hall. Finally, we were alone in her room, which was more like a suite, since there seemed to be a separated sitting room. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable," she said as she led me over to the couch. As she sat down next to me her skirt hiked up almost to her crotch. As she turned towards me, I quickly got a glimpse of the top of her breasts and her silky white bra through the top two open buttons of her blouse. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught her glance at me. I knew that she caught me looking and she smiled seductively.

As we sat together, I couldn't help noticing what looked like strange-looking handcuffs on the coffee table. They looked like large figure-eights. There were rubber gaskets attached to the steel; the rubber would serve to encircle one's wrists. I was curious but fascinated about why she would have left them out like that. It excited me to wonder if this chick was into kink. She watched my eyes focus on them and, as if she were reading my mind, told me that she always brought them with her when she traveled in case she couldn't at first trust someone she met. She explained that they were specially made in Europe for prolonged wearing and were very tight-fitting, yet comfortable. "Here, let me try them on you," she said enticingly as she picked them up.

I was hesitant. I didn't even know her name. She turned to me and began kissing me. She ran her hand softly over my chest and then, slowly down towards my crotch. I was starting to respond. "C'mon, I won't bite." I was getting more turned on.

She told me to stand up and face her. I felt my penis becoming more aroused and I hoped that she wouldn't notice. She quickly flicked her hand down over the bulge in my pants and, at almost the same instant, snapped the handcuff around my left wrist. As the ratchet tightened, I felt my wrist being encased in its pliable, yet inescapable, rubber grip. Holding the handcuffs with her right hand, she told me to turn around, again very lightly sweeping her hand over my bulge. She reached out, grabbed my right arm, and quickly fastened the other cuff around my wrist. "There. How does that feel?" she asked with a chuckle.

The rubber was tight against my wrist. It didn't cut into my wrist, yet I couldn't move my wrists up and down inside the cuffs, either. "Okay, that's enough," I said with alarm. "Unlock me NOW!"

Holding onto the cuffs and ignoring me, she continued, saying, "These cuffs have another feature. I can also lock the swivel into any position. Let me show you." She stood up and, using unexpected strength, pushed my elbows closely together. She quickly reached down, adjusted the handcuff mechanism, and it clicked into place. My elbows stayed painfully close. I could hardly move my arms at all. I stood there, with my chest jutting out and my wrists and arms fastened together, and despite my sudden fear during all this, I was becoming even more aroused.

"Stay right where you are," she laughingly said, as she went into the other room and came back with a duffel bag and an ominous looking device, a 10-inch long black rod with a red button on the end. My eyes bulged with fear as she walked slowly over to me, obviously relishing the moment, put the duffel bag on the coffee table and placed the prod lightly on the swelling in my pants, and then pressed the button. The pain was incredibly intense! It felt like I got kicked in the balls and I started to topple over.

She caught me as I started to fall down and told me to stay on my knees, or else she would use it again. With tears in my eyes, and the pain still in my gut, I asked her why she was doing this to me. "I don't need a reason why. And you are to remain silent unless I allow you to speak -- or else I'll use the cattle prod again on you." Needless to say, I didn't need a reminder.

Then, she opened up the bag and pulled out what looked like a very wide dog collar, except that hers had several rings fastened to it. "This is a posture collar, my dear," she explained as she fastened it tightly around my neck. "It will hold your head proudly up and will stop you from turning your head at all. Then, I heard a click and she said, "There, that's done. You're not going far with that locked on."

"Now, stand up," she ordered. "Step up on the coffee table."

I had only a little trouble standing up and then stepping up onto the coffee table since the pain in my groin was subsiding. "Turn and face me," she ordered. "And don't make this difficult for us!"

She unlaced and removed my shoes, and then my socks. She reached up and unfastened my belt buckle, pulled down my pants and my white cotton briefs. My cock had started to become erect again. "You pig," she said disgustedly. "Look at these stains in your underwear." She stood up with my briefs and roughly wiped the remains of the day's skid marks all over my mouth and face. "You will have to be cleaned out later," she said decidedly.

Then she reached once again into her duffel bag and brought out two larger single cuffs, several lengths of chain, and a small whip. "This is a dog whip," she explained. After I fasten you securely to this table, and do what I want to you, I am going to teach your penis some respect." With that, she reached down, locked the cuffs around each ankle, locked a chain onto each of the cuffs and then ordered me to lie down, face up, on the coffee table. My arms ached as my weight bore down on them and she made sure that my legs were spread wide as she fastened the chains to the legs of the table.

She took out a large pair of scissors and pointed them right in my face. She brought the sharp point right down to my eye and then laughed. "Don't worry, I won't blind you just yet," she said threateningly. Then she proceeded to cut off my shirt, and pulled it out from under my body. "You won't be needing this rag again."

She brought out a large black strap and buckled it tightly around my chest and underneath the table. "I'm glad the furniture is well made," she laughed. And then, abruptly, her tone changed and she said, "Now, please thank me for the punishment that you are about to receive."

I didn't know what to say. So I just repeated her and said, softly, "Thank you for the punishment that I am about to receive." She smiled, and answered, "You're welcome. You have certainly deserved what you're going to get."

With that, she walked around and stepped over my head so that I could see right up her skirt. "This is what you were after, wasn't it?" she demanded. "I know what you want. I know what all of you want. And I will now get what I want."

She pulled her pantyhose down, and then slowly pulled her panties down. I smelled her musk; she must have been aroused. She lowered her body down on me so that her pussy was right over my face. I could hardly breathe. I couldn't move my head at all because of the posture collar. My face was imprisoned by her legs and cunt. She ground herself down on my mouth and nose. "Make sure you keep your mouth open and your tongue out, or else," she commanded, though I could barely hear her. She rubbed her cunt up and down and around my face, mouth and nose. She was rubbing rhythmically for a while and then her movements became more frantic. I made sure to keep on tonguing her, and I even nibbled when I could. Suddenly, she spasmed and I knew she had gotten there. She stopped churning and then raised her body onto my chest.

"Now, I want to give you something to wash that down with," she said wickedly. "Make sure you drink down every drop or your punishment will be even more severe." With that, she once again moved her body down on my face and clasped her legs tightly against my ears. She pushed her slit down on my mouth reached down and closed off my nose with her thumb and forefinger, and started to pee into my mouth. I gagged and swallowed. I could hardly breathe. I swallowed as fast as I could. Finally, it was over. She pushed her body back up so that she was straddling my chest as I was gasping for breath. Once again, she smiled maliciously at me.

"That was for my pleasure. Now it is time for your punishment. I want to now make sure that we won't be interrupted if you scream and somebody then hears us. And you will scream. I'll make sure of it."

She reached over for her pink panties, and felt the crotch part. "Good, they're still wet from today," she said. She then rubbed the wet part over my nose, and made sure to stick them into my nostrils. "Now open your mouth wide." I obeyed and she stuffed her panties into my mouth. She then picked up her panty hose and wrapped them tightly several times around my head and mouth, which held the panties deep in my mouth. She tied a knot in the pantyhose and the gag was complete. Then, once again, she pinched my nose shut with her thumb and forefinger and laughingly said, "See...I even own your nose."

I couldn't breathe and I started to struggle against my bonds. She slapped my face with her left hand. I was startled. And then she slapped me with her right hand. "Your punishment collar will stop your head from moving and will stop me from doing any permanent damage...unless I want to. Now make sure to keep your eyes open. I want to watch you suffer and I want you to watch me punish you. If you disobey me, I'll stick that cattle prod right up your ass, and if I do that, I might even ruin you for life." She smiled malevolently at me, and just as suddenly, her smile turned back to sweetness.

And then the punishment began in earnest. First she slapped one side of my face, and then the other. I was made to watch her hands swing down and strike my face. I was forced to look at her face, which metamorphosized from demonic to angelic. I was forced to watch this satanic angel hitting me. Again and again. Inexorably. Left, then right, then left, then right. It wouldn't stop. She couldn't stop, for she looked transformed. My face was burning. I could feel my cheeks puffing up. I could feel blood in my mouth. And then, a gyration from her loins and it was, finally, over.

A sigh, an exhalation, and I could hear her whisper to herself, and maybe to me, "Oooh, that was nice...that was so nice." She must have orgasmed just from inflicting pain on me!

I was hurting, and hurting badly. My cheeks felt like they were on fire. My neck was stiff and sore. My arms hurt dreadfully since they were locked together behind my back and I was lying face up on top of them. My mouth was filled up with her used, wet panties and the sides of my mouth were distended by the pantyhose tied around the back of my neck. My legs were stretched over the sides of the coffee table and my maleness was exposed and vulnerable.

She stood up, pivoted off me, and sat down on the couch. She promptly placed her feet up on my stomach. I became her footstool. It felt somewhat better to have her weight off my chest, but I still couldn't move. I could only look up at the ceiling, since the posture collar made it impossible to turn my head. I couldn't believe what was happening to me.

After several moments, she started to explain softly, "I haven't forgotten about punishing your nasty penis." That will come next. "But I first want to tell you about your helpless situation. First, no one knows that you are here. If, for some reason, you were asphyxiated, or were injured, or I no longer had a need for you, I could leave you right here, dead or maimed, in this room. No one in this city knows my name, for I paid cash for this hotel room. Even you don't know my name. And that would be the end of that."

I did not know how demented this woman was or could be. All I knew was that I was in some serious trouble.

"I'm going to give you some time to think about that." She rose to get up, reached once again into the duffel bag, and pulled out and showed me what appeared to be a large leather hood. "This is a punishment hood. It will form-fit tightly around your head, and once I lock it onto you punishment collar, it will be much harder to hear anything. To keep you breathing, there are nose holes, and if I want to, I can simply close them up. Just make sure you don't make me do that," she ended up warning me.

With that, she pulled the leather mask over my head, tightly zipped it and then locked it to the rings on my collar. I couldn't see anything. I could barely breathe. She positioned the nose holes carefully over my nostrils and I was finally able to take in some air. She waited several seconds, and the she said, "Let me show you the power I have over you." Suddenly, I couldn't breathe! I felt myself starting to pass out in the darkness of the hood, and then, mercifully, she let me take in some air. "You see, all it takes is two fingers," she chuckled.

Abruptly, she said, "I have to to clean up. And then I've got to get you ready for more of what's in store for you. I'll be back with you soon. You stay right there."