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Subject: {ASSM}  A Place of her Own by Vickie Tern 8/10 TG F/m Femdom
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{Vickie Tern} NEW TG: A Place of Her Own 8/10, F/m, M/M etc, femdom

This story depicts sexual activity of various sorts among consenting
if sometimes also credulous and deceived adults.  If you are not a
consenting adult don't read it, no matter how credulous or deceived.
It's not for you.  Not yet.







"I thought so," Tracy replied to my silence.  "The answer is, yes,
you will see him, probably.  I've already spoken to Sally's wife
about it.  She drives a hard bargain."  Tracy smiled.  "But no
harder a bargain than the other women in your life.  And all for
your own good, anyhow."

I didn't understand, but since Tracy already knew that, I didn't
bother to say so.

"Keep in mind the way you feel now, honey. You'll need to remember
it.  Because the next few days will be nowhere near as romantic.  
The next few days will help you discover other aspects of your
femininity, and if they aren't there to explore you'll just have to
pretend they are.  You need hard practical knowledge of male desire
and how to satisfy it, and you'll also need to remove any last
inhibitions on your own sexual appetites.  I mean to try to locate
the slut in you and set her free.  If there's an Amy who'd just as
soon whore as do engineering consulting, that's who I need to
find."

"Sally's only known me as a virgin.  I've never been with other
men.  Would he want me after I've been a whore?"  I wanted to be
obedient, but I was worried.  

"He knows that one of his tasks last night was to relieve you of
your virginity so you could... extend your experience with others. 
If you two want to get together again afterward, well, that's
between you two.  But don't worry.  Remember that a confident woman
can usually lead a man to a correct view of things.  By his prick
if no other way."

"All right."

"We'll begin slow, this very evening, and by Friday you'll be up to
speed.  Amy, I think you'll be thrilled when you see where you end
up!  Now, what did you prepare for us for this evening's dinner?


                              viii.

We were sitting over coffee and talking about our sexual fantasies,
how both sexes want monogamy for their partners but promiscuity for
themselves, so neither is ever satisfied, and how jealousy is one
part fear, one part desire, and one part envy, topics like that,
girl talk, when Tracy was buzzed from downstairs.  "Of course, come
right up!" I heard her say from the hall phone. 

She came back in.  "We're having a very special visitor.  You'll do
whatever either of us says," then went to the door to wait for him. 
The elevator door in the hall rolled back and there was a single
short twinge of a doorbell.  Tracy threw open the door and was
immediately swept up in the arms of a large and powerful stranger. 
They kissed as if plastered together, then separated, and Tracy,
still flustered, led him into the room to meet me.

"Amy," she said.  "This is Scott.  He's my husband."

"Amy," was all he said, advancing to take my hand into his huge
paw.  He looked to be the size and solidity of a wall!  This was
astonishing.  Tracy had never mentioned a husband.  Many lovers
maybe, but one in particular?  I knew her to be bisexual with a
preference for women, one reason she was interested in my
conversion.  But a man?  A man's man, muscular and keen-eyed?  I
said nothing, but tried to look pleasant. He could crush me if he
knew that I'd been intimate with his wife, I was thinking.  But all
of her friends know about me.  Some of it must have gotten back to
him.  Besides, is it intimacy if her purpose isn't to feel intimate
but to project control and humiliation over someone known to be
vulnerable?  Maybe he should apologize for her, rather than avenge
himself on me.   Then I remembered that I was a woman.  The thought
would never occur to him.  I was not his rival.

"Please to meet you," I said in reply.  I very nearly curtsied.

"Yes, of course," he continued.  Then as if making conversation,
"Amy, I hear you've been fucking my wife."

Shocked, I tried to follow his lead.  "Now and then, Scott," I said
breezily.  "But she's been fucking me too, so I guess the score's
even."

"Not at all," he said, sitting in a comfortable chair opposite me
and leaning back.  "You owe me!"

The conversation was getting past me.  I gaped.

"She's Bi.  I knew that when I married her, so I agreed that now
and then she could enjoy being with a woman.  I'd enjoy being with
the same women myself, but since I was married it didn't seem
appropriate.  I knew that if I ever wanted to fuck a man, she'd be
similarly understanding.  But I haven't wanted to.  Until maybe
now, maybe because you don't look like one."  

"Now as I see it, you owe me.  You're a man who's a woman, becoming
a woman who was once a man.  If you fucked her when you were being
a woman, you owe me the same roll in the hay.  If you fucked her as
a man, using a man's cock, as I suspect you did, you owe my cock a
turn at you.  Either way, honey, you're fucked.   So which are
you?"

"I'm a woman now," I said.  "My cock doesn't work any more."  I
hoped that argument was somehow relevant.  I hoped he wouldn't ask
for proof. 

"Show me."  Nothing emphatic in the way he said it, but he meant
it.

I pulled up my dress and lowered my pantyhose and showed him. 
There was my flaccid, pinky-sized cock and marble-sized balls.

"Why don't do you trade those things in for something that works?"

"I don't know," I said.  "I'm sorry!"

"Sorry isn't good enough.  What do you think I want you to do?"

"Make you happy!"  It was an inspired answer.  I was scared to
death of this man!  But it was the right answer.  He leaned back in
his chair and waited.

Fifteen minutes later I'd been unfaithful to Sally.  Scott's fresh
cum was mixed with Sally's in my tummy.  Desperate and fearful,
when I took him into my mouth I did everything I could think of to
please him, whatever I'd done lovingly with Sally and lots more. 
Finally it had brought him off.

"And?" he said when he'd recovered his breath.  

I knew what he meant.  He was one of those.  His prick had leaned
over momentarily, but it was now again erect.  I decided that we
were quits, that from now on he was in Bonusville.  I got off my
knees and stood up and straightened my skirt.  "And?" I asked him,
my hips undulating once, looking directly at him.  I was determined
that he name it, before I did anything else with him.

"Fuck me, honey."  

He'd named it.  He'd named me.  

"Only if you'll fuck me too, lover boy," I replied.

I turned and backed onto his cock and sat down on it, and we
fucked.  He moved and I moved, and we reciprocated and repeated
ourselves, more and more frenzied and then berserk until finally as
these days it always did, my sphincter muscles clamped repeatedly
onto his silky soft, iron-hard tube, over and over.  I felt my
rectum fill up with something slick and syrupy, and a trickle or
two of clear drip dribbled from the tip of what had been my penis. 
That was enough to incite him to do it again, to mix even more of
himself with Sally inside my rectum,  He resumed thrusting and
throbbing until I was altogether out of my mind and he was lunging
himself high up into me while I flailed at the end of his pole.  He
felt twice Sally's length, but I doubted I could tell anyone even
my name at that moment.  With good reason.  

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" I said. I was exuberant!  Glowing!  My whole body
knotted into rapturous spasms.  He lunged into me and held himself
rigid.  I felt more slick than ever down there.  When I lifted off
him I had to stuff my panties between my cheeks to keep my skirt
from staining.

"That's very nice," he said with a certain awed gratitude. 
"Tracy's done all right by you!  Why don't you get rid of those
things hanging down there and get a place put in instead where a
man can enter and feel at home?"

"You're a nice man, Scott. Almost the nicest I've ever sucked and
fucked."

"Out of how many, Amy?"

"Two.  Counting you."  I suddenly realized that for whatever
reason, obedience to Tracy, respect for Tracy's husband, fear of
him, guilt that I'd fucked his wife, I had just betrayed Sally. 
Two ways.  I'd sucked Scott and fucked him, and enjoyed it both
times.  The first time from obligation, maybe, but the second time
obviously for the pleasure of it.  I realized that I'd do it again. 
With that thought I smiled at Scott and reached for his long wet
cock, now lying across his thigh.  I wanted to do it yet again!

"No, Amy," he said.  "Whatever you have going with Tracy, I call
the score even now.  If you need a recommendation some time I'll
write one for you.  I envy you, Tracy, in a way."

Tracy?  I'd utterly forgotten!  Tracy!  Where had she been all this
time?  I looked up and found the answer at once.  Sitting in a
chair by the fireplace the whole time, watching.  She'd seen me
work her husband over twice and not uttered a sound either time!  

Now she spoke.  "It's always a pleasure watching a sissy man get
fucked in the ass by a real man.  Scott never could keep it in his
pants.  Ask any of his more recent wives -- I'm one of the early
ones.  I've got to congratulate you.  Tonight you fucked Scott out
of obligation and then for fun and yesterday with Sally it was out
of genuine affection.  That means you can be sweet and sincere but
also that you can be a tramp.  One day in love with a nice man who
cares about you, and the next day fucking a stranger!  That's
useful to know about yourself.  It means you can indulge yourself
any time and not give it a second thought." 

I was astonished.  She'd told me he was her husband, not her ex. 
She'd tricked me.  But I couldn't evade the point.  My mouth and my
ass were now impure. I'd been untrue  to Sally with the first man
to come by after him.  Deliciously satisfied by that man moreover. 
This morning I'd been a woman in love.  This evening I was a woman
who'd gotten laid and loved it!

"It's important to know who you are, honey," Tracy said. "Why you
balled Scott isn't significant here.  There are always reasons. 
The fact is,  you betrayed those romantic feelings about Sally you
were cherishing all day.  You fell in love, and then fucked someone
else.  Well, sometimes women do.  A woman can fuck a hundred men
all day, and then come home to her husband or boyfriend and
lovingly fix him dinner, knowing he'll never know.  And the whole
time, he knows he'll never know what she's really done all day! 
That's our mystery and that's the source of our power over men!"  


"When you were a married man, were you ever unfaithful to your ex,
to Tricia I mean?  For any reason?"

"No," I said.  "Never!"  

"Yet she was routinely unfaithful to you, and you knew nothing
about it.  See?  Well, tomorrow," Tracy said, opening the door to
her flat.  "Tomorrow come by around eight, and we'll teach you a
lot more about being a woman.  

She had a point somewhere, but Scott had fucked my brains out and
I couldn't think.  I went through it feeling beaten.  Scott watched
me go, amused.  I didn't look back.  I went straight to bed and
cried myself to sleep.  Poor Sally!  In the morning I felt a little
better.  I realized I didn't need to tell Sally anything.

The next day Tracy arrived home late.  I waited a few minutes and
rang her bell.  She came to the door flustered, and when I glanced
past her shoulder I saw someone was with her.  

"Amy!  I'm sorry, I had an awful day at the clinic today and I'm
exhausted.  Then I ran into Sally here and we began talking, and...
but you haven't met Sally yet, have you?  Only Sally's husband, the
other Sally."  She stepped to one side and said "Sally, this is
Amy.  Amy, Sally."

"How are you?" I said in an ingratiating tone, thinking 'this is my
arch-rival.'  "I've heard so much about you."  She was a
well-turned-out woman just beginning to lose what had obviously
been a hard bodied figure, softening into a middle aged spread. 
There was nothing soft in her face, however.  Gimlet eyes.  Even
her hair looked enameled.

"I'll bet you've heard about me!"  Sally replied.  She made no move
to reach for my outstretched hand, so I let it fall.  "You're Amy,
eh?  Not bad looking for a girls man.  Better than that faggot
bastard deserves."

"Never mind that," Tracy replied sharply.  "We've settled that. 
There'll be no reconsiderations!"

"No, we've agreed," Sally replied equably.  "But isn't this the
night Amy-boy here was supposed to go out and get his ass fucked
silly, get gang-shagged by a hockey team or something?  So he won't
mind what happens to him tomorrow night?"  She said this last in a
level, deliberate voice, as if Tracy were reneging on something."
I looked at them both, not at all sure what was going on.

"Yes," Tracy said.  "Damn!  Things got so hectic at the clinic
today I forgot to call to make the arrangements. Tonight I need at
least three guys in his mouth and his ass all night.  Five,
preferably.  Then when he's had enough, he needs to know there's no
such thing.  By morning I want getting fucked to become a way of
life for him.  I want him waving his ass at anything with a dick
after tonight, never able to forget how good it felt."

"I can take care of that," Sally told Tracy with an amused glance
at me.  I was still bewildered. "No problem.  Shall I?"   
                  
"Please do," Tracy said.  "Be my guest!"

Immediately Sally turned toward me.  "Amy," she said, "There's a
lovely little gay bar south of main street."  She took out a pencil
and small pad.  "Here's the address.  The same place I sent my
Sally for his education, I'm sure he told you all about it.  Dress
yourself as attractive as you can and get your little pussy out
there.  Don't take your own car, and don't take any money, and
don't come back until you've got $500 in your purse, all of it
earned with your mouth and your ass.  If you're good, you'll have
it by morning.  If you're very good, that is!"  She smiled
maliciously.  

Then to Tracy, "See?  No problem.  Tonight, any time anyone asks
him to open his mouth or lift his legs, he won't feel offended or
conscience-stricken.  He'll feel grateful, because he needs the
money.  He'll even be eager to hustle a little something extra for
tips.  If the cock sucking and the fucking are also fun for him,
that'll be the extra.  That's why they say 'once a whore, always a
whore.'  Once a girl's spent a night turning tricks, all men look
like tricks to her forever after.  She knows without thinking what
they want and how to give it to them, and what it should cost them. 
Our Amy will come home to us thinking like a whore.  That's how we
want her to think, isn't it?"

"That'll do the job," Tracy said.  "Go ahead, Amy.  You're losing
time and opportunity even as we speak."

"But without a car or money for a taxi, how do I get there?"  I
didn't like the sound of any of this.

"On your back, dear," Sally said, interrupting Tracy, whose face
showed sympathetic concern while Sally's showed none.  "There are
men with cars all the way between here and there.  And there's a
doorman downstairs, isn't there?  Give him reason to be kind to
you.  Do we need to explain everything?"

A minute later I was ransacking my closet.  My desire to be a
proper, respectable, 'nice' woman had betrayed me, I found.  I had
no provocative clothes, only a range of decent ones, the most
exciting intended for formal wear.  Finally I found that black
satin micro mini I'd rescued from the Salvation Army box when I was
packing to come here how long ago?  Months?  There it was, a
leftover reminder of the days when I was a cross-dresser imagining
I was a slut.  Now I really was a slut.

I slipped into it.  With a wide red belt around my now-quite-narrow
waist to emphasize my now-quite-well-rounded hips, and with my hair
pinned high up and held by a red ribbon, I looked appropriately
available, I thought.  Crotchless panties -- I remembered how I
found out that mine weren't the only ones in Trish's and my
lingerie drawers, nor in our bed.  Whatever happened tonight, I
wouldn't be any more a whore than she'd been.  On the spur of the
moment I pulled on thigh-high black boots.  You never know, I
thought.  Then as I left my place I remembered to toss into my
purse some Kleenex, Kotex pads, and K-Y jelly.  The three K's, I
thought to myself, never leave home without them.
'
While slathering on heavier-than-usual makeup I decided I would not
put the make on any of our doormen -- they'd tell each other, and
they'd all expect favors from me forever afterward.  Instead, when
I got downstairs all I did was smile and ask him to call me a taxi. 
When it came, I leaned through the door, handed him Sally's slip of
paper, and said to the driver, "Honey Bun, a blow job or a fuck up
the ass to take me there."

The driver glared back at me.  "Sorry, lady.  I'm a married man,"
and he handed me back the paper and sped off before I could shout
after him, "So what?  So was I, once!"  I told the doorman the
driver had been rude to me, please call another.  The next one was
also rude, but this time I didn't mind.  I was toughening up, the
way a whore should.  The third taxi driver looked me over when I
put the choice to him, my mouth or my ass, and replied "Both!"

"If you're man enough," I said, and hopped in.  He was man enough. 
A half hour later when we pulled up to the bar my anal pussy was
well-lubricated and incredibly stretched.  No more need for K-Y
jelly for sure, I thought.  It hadn't been at all demeaning.  The
driver had been gentle and as he approached his climaxes he'd been
vigorous and impassioned as he thrust into me.  Even considerate! 
I'd caught some of his erotic energy and begun to give as good as
I was getting.  I even orgasmed onto his cock when he was deep in
my ass!  As I got out I turned to give him a big kiss.  "Thank you,
sweetheart," I told him.  "You felt good and you tasted good.  I
could eat you for breakfast!"

He grinned back.  "No thanks, honey cheeks, I don't usually have
fruits eat me for breakfast!  You make a great girl!  Good luck in
there!  Maybe some other time!"  And he sped off. 

When I stepped inside I saw that the bar was large, with a huge
dance floor in back surrounded by tables and a deep thumping sound
making conversation difficult.  The bartender motioned me over
immediately.

"Tonight's pretty busy, love," he said.  "Our regulars have more
than they can handle, and most of them are leather boys anyhow, not
at all pretty like you.  So you're welcome to stay.  But we insist
on a flat rate here, $25 any time your John gets off, and $10 for
any time he doesn't.  Whatever brings him off, or doesn't.  It
saves argument and holds down price-gouging.  The house gets 10% if
it's anyone you approached here.  Male or female.  With some people
like you, you can't tell, and it doesn't much matter."

"That's not much," I said, my heart sinking while I calculated how
many times $25 went into $550.  

He shrugged and turned to serve a customer.

So I went to work.  I hustled.  I eyeballed men lined up at the bar
to find the most likely, concentrated on only the likely ones, and
once I learned how to say things to them with an insinuating smile,
more often than not I was off to the parking lot with them.  There
were subtle signals I learned to pick up from the cruisers, and
signals to ignore from the mere voyeurs.  I got several customers
just by weaving by myself on the dance floor, making the most
suggestive moves I could imagine and accomplish with my upper body
-- my breasts nicely set off by the stretch satin -- then sinuously
writhing my pelvis as if there were a real precious pussy inside,
with a prick already in it, always meanwhile waggling my
bubble-shaped ass.  Everyone gawked, and some came over to chat me
up, then feel me up, and so forth.  I loved it!

It was odd.  I really did love it.  It wasn't me serving them, but
me dominating them, controlling them.  I could bring any man to his
knees, figuratively speaking, when I went down on my own knees in
front of him.  His rate of breathing, whining, desiring,
concentration, everything was in a single lick of my tongue or
pursing of my mouth.  And when we went back to their cars and they
were pumping in and out of my slick, soaked, distended, grasping
asshole, it was heaven.  I wore their penises like silk rosettes,
badges of honor.  

Only the thickest of cocks made me lose control, forget who was in
charge.  Those few, once inside me, could turn my entire body into
quivering, brainless jelly, pure joy.  I'd cover those men's faces
with kisses afterward.  And with the $25 fuck fee they'd often
leave me a $10 tip!

At three in the morning the customers were thinning, and I was
still nearly $100 short.  A man took me in his arms to dance, and
while I was calculating who else I might hit on, my eyes roaming
the few remaining occupied booths, he asked me, "Are you still
short, Amy, or are you doing this now for the fun of it, on your
own time?"

I looked up and sure enough, it was Sally!  Looking tenderly down
at me.  With other men's cum streaming down my leg into my high
boots, here was the man of my dreams holding me solicitously in his
arms.  I wanted to kiss him, but other men's cum still coated my
lips -- I hadn't bothered to wipe the last few mouthfuls of sperm
because I'd found that a thin film of cum was more soothing than
saliva for coating my irritated mouth.

He kissed me.  Full on the lips.

I burst into tears, and almost collapsed, almost inconsolable. 
"Oh, Sally!  Oh Sally," I sobbed into his shoulder.  "I'm so very
ashamed!  I wanted to be true to you.  But now I'm a whore and a
slut!"

"No, Amy, no, don't be!  It'll be all right!  I know what this is
for!  It'll be all right!"

"I've been with other men!" I wailed.  "Lots!"

"No, you've been learning more about how to please me!"

"But it turns out I love it!  Not just with you.  With other men! 
Anyone, nearly!  I never thought I'd want sex with a man, but here
I am doing it with whoever wants me."

"Even so, I'll always be your first.  And I still want you."

"You can taste other men's cum on my lips, I'm sure."

"Amy, that's not new to me, remember.  I like the taste of other
men's cum.  The same way you do!"   

'Oh, Sally!"  I cried with relief that he still cared for me, and
I cried for joy that I was dancing in his arms.  I hugged him.  We
finished our dance.

"How much more money do you need?" he asked.

"$100!  And the crowd is thinning out by now!

"I'll pay you for two tricks, Amy.  I'd love to.  I'm good for two
cums."

"I can't take money from you, Sally!"  I cried.  "I love you!"

It was out!  I'd said it!  I was appalled!  What had I done?

Sally was unperturbed.  He replied calmly with miraculous words! 
"And I love you too, Amy.  I realized some time ago that the way my
wife has reconditioned me, I can find full happiness only with a
girl like you.  With a boy-girl.  I never dreamed she'd be as
lovely as you are!"

"But I'm a whore!"

"So am I.  Remember?"

I was delirious with delight.  We went back to his car and within
15 minutes I'd earned $50 more from him and a $10 tip.

Then he just held me while I plastered myself against him.  Finally
he said,"Amy, you've got to get back to work.  I'll wait for you
here.  Here's a hint.  The booths still have people in them not yet
ready to call it a night, dating couples and young marrieds,
straights who come slumming to the gay bars for the novelty of it. 
Mostly.  You're clever.  I'll bet you can get $50 out of one of
those couples with no trouble, if you put your mind to it.

I did just that.  I sat down with the first couple nearest the door
and smiled at them.  They smiled back uncertainly.  They assumed I
was a woman, but in this place they couldn't be sure.  Nor could
they know what I wanted.

I settled their second uncertainty immediately.  I spoke to the
woman.  "I'll lick your cunt for $25.  Until you cum.  While your
friend here watches.  He might learn a few things about what girls
like.  No orgasm, you owe me nothing.  "

The man spoke up.  "Now see here," he began, trying to work himself
up to a righteous indignation.  "See here young woman!"

With that I knew I was home free.  I continued as if uninterrupted,
"Then I'll suck your cock for another $25, Mister, while she
watches.  She'll learn how to do things she's never dreamed of
before.  How to use her mouth to turn your brains into Jello, for
one thing.  You'll both live happier ever after."

"We don't do oral sex," the woman said.  "It's disgusting!"

"You won't need to do it," I said.  "I'll do it.  All you need to
do is lie back and relax and watch and enjoy.  Then when I've done
it you'll know more about it, and can ask each other a few
questions about what one is willing to give up for the other to
take.  I'll leave you two alone now to talk things over."  

I got up and went over to the bar, just out of earshot, or nearly,
but I could hear then discussing my proposition rather intensely:
"Just watch!  You don't have to DO anything!" and "No, you wouldn't
have to touch me there ever again, not ever!" and finally "We could
both learn a thing or two from her."  They signalled me over.

Sally's wife had been right.  A single evening of hustling and the
feel of a dozen cocks in my mouth and another dozen in my asshole
had changed me.  I wasn't so much numb as habituated, impassive. 
They sat side by side so they could each look down at me while I
worked them over, and I knelt confidently under the table.  First
I did the woman.  She was easier to bring off than Trish or Tracy
or any of Tracy's friends had been.  God, she must have been
terribly hard up!  She was panting within a few minutes and
shrieking within a few more.  Then squirming so wildly I could
scarcely tongue fuck her into a finale!  Half the people left at
the bar heard her scream and turned to watch.  As she finished and
was trying to catch her breath she gasped "I never!  I never!" to
herself over and over.

When I turned to unzip her husband I saw why she'd never.  He was
smaller than even me, even after my months and months of hormones. 
I took the whole of him into my mouth and began to tongue him.  He
grew.  When he was a full four inches I worked only his outer edges
so his wife could see how.  I sucked the tip and ran my lips down
the shaft a few times, then licked the underside while he moaned. 
When he finally came, I clamped down tight and swallowed noisily,
so she'd know what was happening.  But I kept most of his cum in my
mouth until I could stand up, lean over, kiss her and push some
between her lips.  Then while she reeled back shocked, I kissed him
the same way.




end 8/10  
(c) 1999 by Vickie Tern (VickieTern@AOL.COM, all comments welcomed)


VickieTern@AOL.COM


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