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Subject: {ASSM} Sucker by Vickie Tern 8/11 TG Femdom
Date: Fri, 25 Aug 2000 02:10:08 -0400
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{ASSM}Sucker by Vickie Tern (8/11) TG Femdom Wife F/M M/M
The following story contains explicit descriptions of sexual
behavior, several kinds. It should not be read by those too
young to do so lawfully or by others who do not enjoy such stories.
The young don't listen, the others sometimes need to be reminded
who they are.
- o - o - o -
I was past thinking, past the ability to forgive. Feeling her warm
body so close, feeling her sympathy, I just wrapped my arms around
her, and I buried my face onto her shoulder and started to cry even
harder. Small gasping, mewling sounds at first, but then they
opened into loud sobs and wails. She led me toward that same chair
in the game room I'd used to watch that football game, to watch that
tape on sucking cock a lifetime ago.
Little by little I became aware of her sitting on my lap and
pressing her body against mine and hugging me close. "I didn't
mean for it to be that bad, Samantha baby! Was it that bad? Oh,
Samantha, it was, wasn't it? Oh, sweetheart, you look so terribly
unhappy! I have never seen you look so miserable."
"Oh Debbie," I began. I couldn't go on. I was too choked.
She took charge. "Get undressed, Samantha! Completely! At once!
Into the shower and into a nightie and into my bed. You're spending
the rest of the night with me, love! In my arms!"
I did as she asked, and soon, still numb, had crawled into bed with
her. Everything looked so dark! So bleak! I wasn't a man any
more! I was a cock sucker. I was an open ditch. Some man's
Nancy girl. Many men's. My asshole hurt.
"Oh precious baby , precious girl," Debbie said, embracing me!
"Don't cry, sweetheart. You're my one true love. I know it
doesn't seem like that now, that I'm running you over hurdles and
you're jumping them just to please me, and I'm never satisfied!
But that isn't the case at all! I do love you. I do want what's
best for both of us. My sweet baby girl. Let it all out. It
won't be so bad. I do understand, sweetheart!"
I allowed a racking sob to escape me. Then another. Then there
was no holding them back. "Oh Debbie," I cried out in my anguish.
"I'm not a man any more! All I wanted was a little pleasure from
you, and now look! I'm not a man!"
"I know dear sweet baby, I know. You're not a man any more.
You're better! You're my girl! Just think that thought, over and
over -- you're my girl. Then it won't be so bad. Girls suck cocks
all the time, and they don't suffer for it. It's nice. It's how
they express their femininity. It's what girls do, isn't it.
You've said so yourself, often enough! So just think of yourself
as a girl who sucks cock. Girls like it. Didn't you like it just
a little?"
I had to wait a long minute to answer her, and I had to swallow
once or twice. But I had to tell her everything! I had to
maintain absolute honesty with my own wife! In a barely audible
voice I said, "Some. Some of them! That's the trouble! Oh,
Debbie!"
She embraced me. "Yes, love. Of course you did! From the very
first? Tell me all about it!"
"None of them at first. But those tubes kept coming at me, and I
hoped it would get sort of mindless, you know? Like with Mr.
Dildo? But each cock was different! And felt different in my
mouth! And some of the men were mean and some were nice, really
appreciative. I liked the nice ones. Then after a while even some
of the mean ones, if they had really impressive cocks, because, oh
Debbie, I felt privileged to do cocks that big! And they'd groan
and grunt, and beg for me to bring them off! There was this
feeling of ... gratification. Of power! I did like it! Then when
they came they'd call me a whore! By then I guess I was!"
"Why, honey? You were doing it for love, not money. How were you
a whore?"
"I don't know!"
"So they were wrong, weren't they?"
"I guess. Maybe! When the bartender first saw what I wanted he
told me to use one of the back rooms. 'The guys who want you will
find you,' he said. 'Marlene isn't here tonight. She's our
regular here. So you can fill in this once. I get ten percent.'
And he handed me two clean bar towels, telling me there were clean
sheets, but I'd need these. I told him I wouldn't charge. He was
surprised. 'On the house?' he asked. 'Night on the town, mister?
You do it for the fun of it? OK, some of our 'girls' do that too!
Enjoy! But keep it down! Don't disturb the regular customers!'
I promised I wouldn't, so I didn't. Even when, even when ...." I
was stopped by my own deep, racking sob.
"Even when what, honey?" Her arms were tight around my neck, and
her legs were wrapped tight around my thighs for the first time
in many weeks. We were cuddled together as snug as was possible.
My soft prick was squeezed against her opening, though it never
stirred.
"Oh, Debbie!" I hesitated, then blurted it out. "They raped me!"
"Did they?" Debbie sounded less horrified than I expected. "Did
it hurt?"
"The first time yes, it did. He was a lot more rough than Mr.
Dildo, and my saliva on him wasn't slippery enough I guess. But he
left so much cum in me that the next guy slid right in. Then it
was ...."
"Then it was what, baby doll?"
"Oh, Debbie!" I started to cry again. "It was so easy! I got so
slippery and stretched out and ... I began to help them!"
"And began to move that sweet ass of yours back against those men
in rhythm? Because it felt so good?"
"Oh, Debbie!" was all I could reply.
"You got excited and came yourself?"
I nodded.
"Several times?"
I nodded again.
She understood and hugged me silently. Sympathy poured from her as
she clinched my body to hers. But also satisfaction! I could feel
it.
"Sweetheart, that's terrible! I feel so sorry for you! No girl
should go through that her first time! But now you know what it
can be like, don't you? Don't you? Yes! Well, we'll make it up
to you tonight. We'll make sure that tonight you'll have a
beautiful experience! Gabe is a tender, kind, considerate man. A
real love! Someone you can enjoy!"
"Debbie!" I sobbed. "I'm a man! I'm not gay! I don't want to
have sex with men! I feel so ... used! So inferior!"
"Honey, concentrate on that. Say it to yourself. 'I'm not an
inferior man, I'm Debbie's girlfriend! I'm a beautiful intelligent
girl and I'm attractive to men, and I love it when men want to get
close to me. Say it to me!"
Somehow her words were actually comforting. "I'm not a man," I
said dispiritedly. Now that a man -- and how many men afterward?
-- had been in my mouth and in my ass, how could I respect myself
as a man? "I'm an attractive girl. Your girl friend."
"And?"
"I like it when men like me."
I repeated that last phrase several times. It was actually
consoling! I snuggled up close and she held me close, her smooth
warm skin pressing against mine, her softness squeezed on mine. I
couldn't tell where I ended and Debbie began. We were like two
naked women together in bed, for a moment, pressing softly against
each other. No, I was her husband, a man who had just sucked cock.
But somehow it was comforting to be Debbie's girlfriend. In the
morning I'd tell her more about some of the guys who visited me in
that back room. Old codgers, college kids, tough guys, refined
gentlemen. All sorts of men went to that gay bar! One kept saying
'Thank you, Lord!' with every push, and wanted to blow me in return
for his fuck. But I was all spurted out by then, my groin awash in
cum with more trickling from my gaping anus, and more boy friends
waiting their turn outside the door. Most never said a word. One
had a silly, penny-ante ego, and thought he was a superior creature
because my kind of girl had gone down on him and was sucking him
off, when in fact any girl could have had him -- he was easy. We'd
share a laugh or two about that afterward, about the strange ways
men behave when they're in heat.
Gradually my sobs quieted, and as I fell asleep, I realized I could
have dribbled cum into any of my lovers' mouths if I'd thought of
it. Made them cock suckers too, at one remove. They'd have agreed
to let me kiss them, I didn't doubt it for a moment, and that was
all it took! Then maybe they too would find they couldn't forget
how it tasted and felt on their tongues! But they'd have deserved
it! Maybe even liked it. I guess despite everything, I liked it!
x.
After my night at the Lotus Club, Gabe was easy. Boy pussies are
as resilient and stretchy as girls' vaginas, I guess, if they
aren't torn by misuse. Mine felt fine by early evening the next
day. Maybe it was a vaginal hormone cream Debbie spread on my
pussy lips the next morning to soothe them, but even by noon I
began to feel empty, to yearn to feel re-filled down there, a
little. Maybe it was also a little something extra Debbie put into
my milk shake, but all day long I felt sweet and pretty, just
lovely, eager for another big adventure! I kept smiling and
humming, I don't know why!
Marcie came over in the late morning, and the three of us went
shopping and had lunch. She herself selected the outfit I'd wear
for her husband. A little retro, a draped satin blouse and short
velvet skirt, rather flattering we all agreed, and very
provocative. And of course black stockings and a garter belt --
men are such fetishists about that kind of gear. Black lace
crotchless panties. I don't think we stopped giggling together the
whole time about male sexuality and its demands and dreams! That
strange species! And I enjoyed being the center of my two dear
girlfriends' attentions!
I told them both about a few of my boy friends from the previous
evening, the pathetic grunting and the loud victory cries when
finally they got off. We all three agreed it was far better to be
a woman and have them service us than the other way around. When
we parted Marcie couldn't get over how much I'd changed even from
the woman she'd watched exercising only a week or so earlier.
"You've really done wonders with him, Debbie!" she kept telling my
wife. And "Samantha, you're so lucky to have Debbie -- so many men
would eat their hearts out to be where she's put you! I'm so happy
for you now!" To me privately she added in a low voice, "You were
OK before, honey, but you're really great now!" I had to agree.
Gabriel -- I sensed immediately that both of us preferred
"Gabriel," not "Gabe" -- turned out to be compliant enough, and
unlike any of the men the previous night ready to submit to
anything I proposed. Marcie had him thoroughly tamed! A tiger in
the office but a pussycat in bed, maybe as an escape from heavy
responsibilities at work, maybe simply because Marcie wanted him
that way, easier to deal with or deceive. A true sub! A very nice
man, really! He arrived home from his office party slightly
tizzled. Marcie wished him a happy birthday, introduced me as her
dearest girlfriend, then said she was leaving the two of us alone
for a few hours, she had to see Debbie about something. And she
was gone.
I looked at him, and he looked at me. I realized he had no idea
who or what I was, and I wasn't sure he remembered why I was there.
So I took charge. On impulse I said, "Why are you still in that
chair? Shouldn't you be on your knees when I'm in the same room
with you?" He leaped up at once and apologetically fell to his
knees! Just drunk enough, and gentleman enough, and submissive
enough!
And that set the tone for the evening! From then on, everything we
did together was at my expressed command, to service my desires. It
was wonderful, ordering a grown man around for once! What a treat!
I got him down to the buff, naked and cringing in embarrassment --
even though he didn't have a bad build at all -- and he was mine!
I let him undo my satin blouse and my bra, and I dangled my breasts
over his mouth enticingly before lowering them first one, then the
other, to where he could close his lips over them like a baby. He
sucked on one, then the other so gratefully and deliciously that I
wondered if Marcie would hire him out to me by the hour! Who was
the whore now? His lips on my tits were heavenly!
He was a prize! I blew him as a reward for smooching my ass,
because I'd promised Marcie I would, and then when he'd recovered
his breath and his erection I got onto my knees and thrust my cute
buttocks high in the air, and reached under and guided him into me,
because I'd promised Marcie that's what I'd do. And because I
wanted to reward him for being so nice! He was so excited he never
noticed my genitals I'm sure. He mounted me like an eager puppy,
and by the time he'd cum deep inside me he was practically my
slave!
I patted him on the head as I left their house, and told him to be
grateful for everything Marcie allowed him to do for her. He
nodded, eyes wide, imprinting my words on his mind. I told him to
call her "Miss Marcie" whenever they were alone, to emphasize that
he had no claims on her, that she could go do whatever she wanted
at any time. He nodded. "With anyone," I added wickedly. He
nodded slowly, more reluctantly I thought. "Even stay out with
someone else all night," I added on impulse, because Marcie had
done that with me during our week together but had worried about
him the whole time, what he'd think. That brought such a pained,
mournful expression to his face as he struggled to agree that I
added, "If she needs to punish you for failing to please her." He
nodded, grateful for the condition, obviously resolving never to
give her cause.
When I got back home, Marcie and Debbie were chatting in the
kitchen. I smiled and told Marcie she would find him a changed
man. She later phoned Debbie to say he was indeed changed,
miraculously and wonderfully, a new man! That Debbie should be
sure to thank me! When Debbie asked me what in the world I'd done
with him, I told her teasingly that some girls know secrets about
some men. Better for me if Debbie doesn't know them, I was
thinking. Or did she?
I felt wonderfully self-confident after my little session with
Gabriel. Filled with pride in the power of my own femininity.
Self-assured. Ready for Bruce. The next morning was Friday, the
beginning of my long-awaited weekend. I was plenty ready to play
girlie with Bruce while Debbie watched, if she chose. Now I was
sure I could teach her a few things.
Debbie went to her office to attend last minute matters, and all
through the morning I laid out and packed my different outfits --
for travelling, for cocktails, for the pool, for the formal
Saturday Night dance, and of course intimate wear for lounging in
private. And for bed, the most gorgeous nightgowns any girl ever
put on and then took off. Even for church on Sunday if I woke up
in time and chose to go -- I had the most darling black suit, the
jacket snug at the waist, flared at the hips and bursting at the
bodice, where a modest froth lace dickey barely concealed the cleft
between my breasts. It was divine! I'd heard that all
sorts of re-couplings took place after chapel at the Avalon,
when men and women alike could feel that all their sins were
forgiven, their spirits refreshed, and physical communion with
others especially desirable. I certainly didn't want to feel left
out.
The phone rang! It was Debbie calling from her office.
"You about ready, Samantha honey? Excited?"
"You know I am, Debbie! It'll be lovely! Will you be home soon?"
"That's just it, baby! I'm a bit delayed here. I still have
things to do, and I still have to get home to pick up a few things.
Why don't you come down here now and I'll introduce you to
Bruce. Then you two can go on ahead and I'll meet you at the
Avalon in time for dinner, if I can get away by then."
"All right!" I felt a momentary pang. Despite my self-confidence
the idea was a bit daunting. None of Debbie's associates knew what
had been happening with me, about my transformation. So far as I
knew, anyhow. What would they think of me, a man who chose to be
a woman? I did it well, I knew that now. But still!
I suddenly realized, now I'd be one more of those man-women who
came to the office to meet Bruce and then go out with him! How
would I stack up against those other girls? Debbie had said that
the girls in the office were usually envious of them. Would they
envy me? I hoped so!
There was no problem, as it turned out.
I stopped off at Vita's on the way in for touching up, and Allison
was awe struck at the improvement in my appearance. "You're really
into this now, aren't you," she said. "I've started in on my
boyfriend. Had him in here a few times. He might even turn out
to be as cute as you! But he fights me every step! He knows the
more I work him over, the less attractive he is to other girls.
But when I kick him out I want him to be a real fairy princess!
Any advice?"
"Deck him out and set him up in a back room at the Lotus Club," I
told her. "That's what Debbie did to help me accept it my new gender.
Guaranteed to take the starch out of any man. After a session like
that there's no way for a man to respect himself as a man. Or
survive as a man. When he remembers what he's done, what men have
done to him, how he felt when they did it, he'll have to go gay or
accept that he's a girl. Or do both!"
"Both would be beautiful," Allison commented. "If he turned out
like you I might even keep him! Not as a boyfriend any more of
course! Does your wife have boyfriends on the side now that you're
no longer qualified?"
Again, a thought that had never occurred to me! But this was not
the weekend to worry about such a thing -- I was now committed to
sleep with my own boyfriend, after all, with no time to worry
whether Debbie was doing the same thing! Was she? Who? When,
during my road trips? Someone better than me at making her happy?
I'd never reached her sexually, until she started making me into a
replica of herself, sort of. Was that what this was all about? Not
likely!
No, there was no time to think about it!
Allison decided that for my big weekend I should have huge
eyelashes to bat innocently at my man from between his legs, and
she glued and interwove them with painstaking care. "Don't worry,
Samantha," she said. "With what I'm doing, they won't come off
until you want them to come off. And when you see them, you won't
want them to come off ever." She held up a mirror. When I saw the
effect, demure yet deeply seductive, I had to agree. I had heavy
lashes. I saw the world as if from underneath a thick fringe that
swept down with every blink. One more thing girls do to look
attractive for guys! It was remarkable though how those lashes
made me into a woman of mystery! The tricks we learn!
When I arrived at Debbie's office I was perfect -- flawless makeup
on top of the indelible colors I always wore, every curl fetching,
one curl pulled down teasingly in front of each ear, a few
"accidentally" but charmingly tumbling over and softening my brow,
eyes intriguing. Debbie's secretary Maria looked up at me with her
professionally welcoming face for a moment before she realized who
I was, then broke into a radiant smile!
"Samantha!" she said! "You're gorgeous! Debbie told us you've
been coming along fabulously, but none of us dared dream you'd
finish up looking this good! I'll tell her you're here!"
Us? Debbie's whole office knew? Maria pressed a button on her
intercom and still looking at me she said, "He's here, Debbie. And
I must say, you've done a marvelous job with him! I'd never know
if I didn't already know. He's perfect! Bruce will eat him up!"
And I heard Debbie reply, "You have that backward, honey! But
that's what we wanted, isn't it? Tell him I'll be right out!"
Knowing I'd heard, she cocked one high plucked eyebrow at me,
smiled, and said nothing. I cocked one of mine at her, and the two
of us grinned.
"If you should ever want to leave Debbie, honey," she said. "I
want first dibs on you!"
That was flattering, but what did it mean? That Maria was a
lesbian? That she sensed I could be a dominant woman, as I'd been
with Gabriel, and she liked that? That she'd like to tie up with
a male she could manipulate? Could I possibly be dominant with
a woman? I never had been. As a man I'd always been courteous and
polite, considerate if not submissive. The way I now was as a
woman. The way I'd become a woman. Or was I just being
cooperative, doing whatever Debbie asked for this one weekend in
exchange for a lifetime of blow jobs? Had I in fact given up my
manhood altogether in exchange for that lifetime of blow jobs?
Would there be anything there for Debbie to blow for much longer?
Was there a contradiction there somewhere? Was Debbie's secretary
straight but something of a trannie hag, she liked feminized men?
Too many mysteries here. I gave up speculating.
Debbie appeared. "I may not be able to get away until late,"
she told me, her eyes signifying admiration for the way I'd gotten
dolled up -- Vita had been my own spur-of-the-moment idea -- but
also regret that she'd miss out on early stages of my
long-anticipated performance. "But you and Bruce will hit it off,
I'm sure! Come, I'll introduce you."
Down the hall to another door, a quick knock, a rich male voice
calling "Come!" and we were inside his office. I stared, and he
looked back at me with a faintly amused expression. Mocking,
superior, thinking that here was one more straight guy gone crooked
for the sake of a mere woman, a temptation to which he was of
course immune? No, I realized, it was his usual expression,
reflecting a certain detached self-confidence. It was in fact
rather appealing. Here was the man who was what all this had been
about! Satisfying him sexually. Satisfying Debbie by satisfying
him sexually, so Debbie would be willing to satisfy me, strictly
speaking, though that point was now just about lost among the
preliminaries and contingencies.
"Samantha," Debbie said, needlessly doing the formal honors. "This
is Bruce. Bruce, Samantha. I suspect you two will get on
splendidly. But I have work to do -- please excuse me!"
I looked around, and she was gone! I looked at Bruce and he looked
at me -- a cat checking out a canary? No, he was all solicitude!
"We'd better get going," he said, coming around from behind his
desk. "Want to use the Ladies' first, Samantha? It's a two hour
drive, and we'll only just arrive in time for cocktails as is." He
then paused, recalling his manners. "You're just lovely, Samantha!
Everything Debbie promised you'd be!"
"Thank you," I said. I felt pleased by the compliment, even though
its meaning was obscure -- it was only a gay man's welcome to a
recent convert, sort of. "You're rather handsome yourself!" He
was, too, just as Debbie had described him. Dark, almost piercing
eyes, and a lithe way of moving. Unaccountably I felt a bit
nervous -- would he be satisfied with me after all? I was glad I'd
thought to stop at Vita's for a last touch up and polish. I did
want to look pretty for him!
We drove to the Avalon in near silence,. He knew I think that I
needed some time to get used to his physical presence after he'd
been a figment of my imagination all these weeks, and he didn't
force conversation. I kept glancing over at him as he drove. I
liked what I saw -- some rough-hewn edges even alongside the polished.
Now and then I caught him glancing at me too, and when our eyes met
he always smiled at me reassuringly. By the time we arrived I felt
comfortable. I found a way to be. Not compliant or he'd find me
tiresome. Not dominant or he'd feel annoyed. Coquettish felt just
about right! Teasing.
"You've been here before, I see," I mused as he paused to pick up
a key at the registration desk, then skillfully navigated through
two parking lots and stopped the car alongside the "Honeymoon
Villa" Debbie had reserved for us. "Have you taken many honeymoons
before this one?"
"Lots," he replied, with an appreciative grin. "With lots of
brides."
"Grooms too, I bet," I said. He looked puzzled. I decided not to
press it. Lots of men have limited wit for small talk.
He carried our luggage from the car into the villa. It was
luxurious enough, with tapestries and draperies everywhere, both a
tub and an enclosed shower, a patio with a jacuzzi, a
well-furnished sitting room, and on an elevated platform in the
middle of the largest room, a huge round bed. Then, in an
adjoining alcove though in full view of that massive round bed,
another smaller bed.
"Look," I said, pointing at the extra bed. "If this is a Honeymoon
suite, what's that for? A mother-in law?"
Bruce was amused. "No, not in this case. Debbie asked for that
bed. Maybe she doesn't trust her husband alone in bed with another
man, and wants to see for herself that they don't begin fooling
around? Maybe it's for whoever snores the loudest? Don't worry,
baby, it'll be used! Now change into something romantic, and we'll
try the restaurant after a little tete-a-tete at the bar. Do you
dance?"
"No," I said, trying to send him a smoldering look from underneath
my heavy eyelashes. Then I wriggled my hips. "But if you whistle
a few bars, I can fake it."
He appreciated that one. "Good. I love dancing. You just follow
my lead, all right?"
"Yes, certainly, sir," I replied, maybe a little too flippantly.
"Even when we aren't on the dance floor," he added, looking
directly at me from under those dark brows.
"Anywhere," I said, realizing that he was establishing our rules of
engagement. "But especially on the dance floor."
For our first night together I'd chosen a pale blue silk organza,
the most romantic dress I owned. He was waiting for me in the
sitting room when I emerged, and the way he looked at me made all
the trouble I'd taken over all the previous weeks well worth while!
"Thank you!" I said before he could speak, with a gracious lilt in
my voice. "You don't have to say anything. Your face just said it
all!"
He took my hand. "Then let's just go in."
- o - o - o -
End Sucker 8/11
If you are missing a part then this story can be found at
www.go.to/furysaga under Vickie Tern's Wives and Girlsfriends Page
(c) 2000 by Vickie Tern. May be copied to free archives and
accessed from them. But do let me know, VickieTern@AOL.COM
VickieTern@AOL.COM
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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