Message-ID: <15416eli$9809182236@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/15416.txt> From: np98rb@mail.telepac.pt (Christine & David Stevenson) Subject: Under Control part twenty-three of twenty eight Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <35fd2ccf.5387863@news.telepac.pt> Under Control - part twenty-three of twenty eight by mailto: VictorBruno@mschristine.com this story remains copyright Victor Bruno, release to publish granted to Christine Stevenson. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The tall and beautiful, coffee-coloured octoroon was seated behind a desk. On top of the writing desk lay the riding crop which accompanied her everywhere. Paul curtsied but Miss Mandy ignored him and went on writing. At last she looked up. "Name?" she asked cursorily. "Pauline, mistress," he answered. The hormones had changed his voice virtually to that of a woman. "Ah yes," said Miss Mandy. "Your mistress had assigned you to one of the work parties. Miss Delia's party. Report to her immediately." Paul curtsied again and left, thankful nothing worse had befallen him. Obviously the slave overseers like Miss Mandy and Miss Delia; and, of course, his mistress Gloria, knew that Paul was actually a man who had been converted to look exactly like a woman. The slave girls, he was aware, simply accepted him as one of themselves. It was a situation which was both perpetually humiliating and frustrating . Delia regarded him with laughter on her lips and in her eyes as he at last stood before her. "My, my," she said, "quite the young lady, aren't we? I must say those tits of yours have come on splendidly. Far better than I thought they would. And I do believe you've got quite curvy. Marvellous things modern drugs." Marvellous indeed, thought Paul wearily. "Strip," ordered Miss Delia. "You won't be needing those fancy maid's items for some time." Paul removed his maid's uniform, his knickers, girdle, stockings and shoes and stood naked before Delia. She came and examined him closely, fondling his breasts, running her hands over the now hairless smoothness of his buttocks and thighs. "Yes . . ." she said, "very much the young lady. Quite an improvement. And that plastic thing I fitted on you couldn't look more lifelike. Goodness knows what would happen if one of the male guests took a fancy to you!" Paul shuddered inwardly, recalling Gloria's words about giving him to a man who liked buggering women. That could well happen to him before long he thought. Especially if this bitch Delia had any say in the matter. Already he longed to be back with his true mistress. "Your mistress appears to have been lenient with you of late," said Delia, looking at Paul's unmarked flesh. "Perhaps you have been such a good girl." Paul made no answer, standing meekly. It was best when one was so powerless. "Well, you won't have such an easy time of it with me," she said needlessly. Paul was well aware of that! "Right, follow me," she ordered. Delia led him down to the slave quarters and unlocked one of the numerous cell doors. He found himself in a stone cell occupied by three slave girls, each one chained by the neck to a plank bed. Paul was similarly chained to the fourth bed in the cell. "This is Pauline," announced Delia, "she will be joining our squad tomorrow morning." The three girls looked at him apathetically. They were dog-tired, he could see that; and the backs, buttocks and thighs of all three of them were striped with weals. He was aware he would be in a very similar condition in twenty four hours time. The door slammed behind Delia and was locked. The naked figure of one of the girls was slumped sprawling, displaying herself blatantly. Paul feasted his eyes - feeling once again the sear of bitter frustration. He could see . . . but he could do absolutely nothing. He noticed the girl eyeing him. "Are you a lesbian?" she asked. Paul felt slightly shocked "Er . . . yes . . . as a matter of fact, I am," he managed to say, realising that he might have given himself away. The girl smiled at him. "Pity these chains aren't a bit longer," she said, "then we could have some fun." She thrust herself provocatively towards Paul. He felt the throb of his pulses and he felt the pressure on the genital case which enclosed him. "Yes . . . a great pity," he smiled back. Two lesbians together, he thought. What a sick joke. "What's your name?" he asked. "Betty," said the girl, giving him a steady look. "I should think you're pretty butch. Let's play with ourselves . . . while we think about each other." Her hand went down and a look of lechery dawned on her face as she began to manipulate her clitoris. Paul did the same but, of course, got no pleasure from doing so. He had to simulate pleasure as he worked his fingers on himself. Soon the other girl's haunches were jerking and she was panting and gasping happily. Paul tried to imitate her as best he could . . . watching enviously as the girl came to orgasm. He didn't think he'd ever felt so furiously frustrated in his life. "Oh . . . . that was good . . . ." said Betty, slumping down. "I must say, I quite fancy the look of you. And it really turned me on to watch you come." "Thank you . . ." said Paul, trying to look as if he had just had an orgasm too. "Christ, isn't it terrible . . . that's the only pleasure we can possibly get in this place. Playing with yourself. Unless you have to service one of the women guests. That's not too bad at all if she's not an absolute bitch. It's being fucked I hate. Oh God . . . how I hate that. Have you been fucked often? I mean, I haven't seen you around much. Are you new?" "Fairly," answered Paul. "New here. But I've been a slave for some time. My mistress brought me here. She's staying with Mrs. Dupont." "That Gloria van Meer? She looks a tough one, I don't envy you." "She is tough," nodded Paul. He found it somehow a great comfort to talk to this girl on equal terms. "But as to being fucked, the answer is no." "You've not been on a labour squad before then?" concluded Betty. Paul shook his head. "It ain't funny," said Betty sprawling down. Paul had only to look at the stripes across her hindquarters to realise that. Silence reigned for quite a while. All the other girls seemed to be dozing. Paul tried to compose his mind, but it was not easy. He felt terribly wide awake. Suddenly there was the sound of the key in the door. Automatically his nerves flared. One never knew. Two weeping girls were led in on collar and chain by an overseer. By the look of them, they had just come from the Punishment Room. "Jesus," said the overseer, "this place is getting overcrowded. Still no matter . . . ." She took one of the girls over to where Betty was lying and fastened her to the same ringbolt. Thus the girls had to share a plank between them. Then the overseer came across to Paul and the other girl was fastened to his ringbolt. He found a lushly naked young body crushed to his . . . and the lust surged fiercely through him. Oh . . . if only he were a man again! The door slammed and was locked. Paul gently clasped the weeping girl in his arms, consoling her as one girl might another, yet loving the feel of her breasts on his. "Try not to cry," he whispered. "Oh . . . oh God . . ." she sobbed, "after all I've had today . . to . . . to do that . . ." "What did you get?" he asked. "Eighteen from the tawse," answered the girl, "just . . . just because I fainted in the heat . . . oh . . . oh . . . I can't stand it . . ." "Shush . . ." said Paul comfortingly. "That sort of talk only makes matters worse." Very gently he laid the palm of his hand on the girl's bottom. It was burning hot . . . and she winced even under his soft touch. "You're very kind," said the girl, snuggling closer to him. "Most of the others don't give a damn. As long as it's not them that's getting it." "I know," said Paul, "but I'm afraid it's quite understandable under the circumstances." Slowly the girl's sobs ceased and Paul clasped her to his body almost reverently. You're one of the girls now, he told himself. Truly one of them. Over his shoulder he caught sight of Betty and the girl who had been locked to her ringbolt. They were frantically rubbing themselves together. A pity, thought Paul that such relief is denied me! - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - This story is being released as an illustrated web book, for details of Victor Bruno Books available please contact VictorBruno@MsChristine.com http://www.mschristine.com/bruno.html Also published as text simultaneously on...... ------------------------------------------------------ The DOMestic mailing list is free of charge. Subscribe in subject line:- DOMestic@Ms-Christine.com Moderated by David & Christine Stevenson. Subscribe online at http://www.mschristine.com/domestic.html ------------------------------------------------------ The Fem Dom Training Software. Runs on all computers (Macs too!) 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