The woman wouldn't let me go. I was threatened with death. She would really shoot me if I tried to bolt. So I stayed. She made me strip. I was naked in front of her, and I felt embarrassed. She laughed at the size of my penis. I was forced to stand there and let her make fun of me. She wouldn't touch me. I had to be her slave. I did everything for her. At first I was truculent, but she beat me with a billy club. When I was truly insubordinate, she would shove it up my ass.
I served as her naked slave for weeks. I slept naked on the floor at the foot of her bed, chained to a bedpost. I couldn't climb onto the bed and kill her, because the chain was too short. If I misbehaved she would torture me. Never did she let me become sexually satisfied. She placed a cup on my penis that prevented it from being touched. How I longed for relief! She skimped around all day in her lingerie to torture my brain.
About two years later, two years of perpetual shame, she told me that she would allow me to wear clothing. She would throw me into a room and allow me to choose any garment that I want, and wear it for as long as I pleased. I was allowed to pick a wardrobe.
She threw me in, and the air was cold. She turned on the lights, and I discovered that I was in a lingerie shop. There was nothing in any way masculine in the room. The only clothing was women's underwear. I had no choice but to grab some girls' underwear for warmth. I draped silk on my body, and it immediately warmed me. But not as much as I wished. She made it colder in the room, and no matter what amount of clothing I piled onto me, I could not warm up. She told me to try something on. I refused. I would not be forced to be a transvestite! She relented and permitted me to serve her for another year.
On that anniversary, she allowed me to re-enter the lingerie closet and pick a wardrobe again. But I was accustomed to nakedness. She still did not allow me any sexual pleasure, and oh, how she aroused me. She would tease me. . . I again refused.
She seemed to warm up to me more, out of familiarity. She told me about how to be a woman, and expected me to do as she did. I had to, or would die. She was so pleasant about it, that I actually enjoyed acting like her, my exalted goddess.
When she threw me into the lingerie store that year, I again felt apprehensive. But she now refused to let me leave without anything on. To humour her, I put on the most unflattering lingerie that I could find. I came as soon as it touched my cock. I was disgusted.
She threw me back in, and forced me to take another. Again, I repeated the action.
The next time, she made me try on something else, and let me wear it for much longer. It felt so warm on my body. I liked it. I began to experiment with other clothes, halfheartedly, because she was never satisfied with what I took. I became a lingerie model for her. I tried to act as femininely as possible, and the more I was feminine, the more she appreciated it. I began to plot what I would wear, to make it the most revealing possible. I began to enjoy wearing the sexiest clothes. . . She loved to see me that way. I began to truly love acting like a woman. I noticed that my penis was shrinking each time I acted femininely. At first I was alarmed, but the pleasure was such that I could no resist. I continued, heedless. I started engaging in homosexual sex. My breasts began to grow, and my hips. My waist and genitalia continued to shrink. I began to look like a girl. My body hair fell out. One day, my dick was gone, swallowed into a hole of flesh forming on my crotch. I had a cunt. At last, I became female. I could truly fuck like a girl! I am now a woman. I treat my own slave in much the same way.
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