Ms. Finch
For twelve long years, while caring for a sick wife and my two children, I suppressed my growing transgender urges, half-contenting myself with internet chat in a femme persona. Some people knew that “kelli” was a guy with a transgender persona. But most, particularly the men she talked to, knew her as a nymphomaniac submissive girl who’d hot chat three at once, for hours.
Several of the people that knew “kelli” was really a guy used to encourage me to act out more, to feminize myself, and live my fantasy. But I knew that such actions would just kill my wife – only her faith in a strong, manly husband gave her the confidence to go on. So year after year, I steadfastly refused, saying “I would If I was single.”
Well, after a while, my wife’s condition deteriorated, and she had to be put into a skilled care facility. As the kids had gone off to college, I moved out of my house, and into a small studio apartment – I was effectively single again. I guess that’s what made me give in to my friend Jenny’s hundredth suggestion that I attend one of her private monthly s/m parties – as a French maid.
Jenny had me come over for breakfast, as we had a lot to do to get me ready. I’d already given her my measurements, and she’d borrowed everything I’d need to be a naughty maid for her party.
You all know the drill – the hair removal, the body lotion and scented powder, the stick-on boobs, the corset with hip pads and garters, the seamed stockings, the lucite chastity to prevent that “unsightly bulge,” the pretty panties (over the garters), the fluffy crinolines, the satin uniform, and, of course, the “fuckme” pumps. Then an hour at the makeup table, finding the right look and teaching me to maintain it, the well-anchored wig, and “voila,” as ze French would say ve have ze maid!
I must admit Jenny did a great job, and while I was no knockout, my reflection in the mirror compared favorably to the more-attractive sissy-maids I’d seen on the internet. And, no question, it was a total turn-on. Though my caged dick couldn’t get erect (it sure tried!) it could still pulse with excitement and leak pre-cum. Jenny thought that the chastity would also heighten my sexual need and make me more eager to get other sensations.
I was dressed and ready to go by 4:00, so Jenny assigned me a bunch of set-up chores that I would do while she got ready. She said that the practice would do me good, and insisted that as I set up, I practice moving like a girl, and work on finding a high-pitched fake-french accent.
Aside from the fetch and carry routine, my first actual scene was, not surprisingly, a spanking. Now, Jenny knew that I wasn’t gay, and wasn’t ready to be with a man in real life, so she structured that first party to have me primarily serve her femdom friends. Of course, as a maid, I had to fetch and carry for the men too, and my curtseying bottom got a lot of casual pinching, patting, and slapping by the male guests regardless of Jenny’s planning.
So by the time of the spanking, my bottom was already sore. I tried to explain that to the Domme who’d requested my services from Jenny, and she promised to go easy on me, but by the end of the scene, my bottom was on fire, and my pleas for mercy sincere. I missed crying by about four slaps, I think.
When I stood up, Jenny must have seen I was a bit teary-eyed and might have had too much. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry she was a bit hard on you,” she told me. “Why don’t you fix your makeup while I rub some cream into your bottom?”
Needless to say, Jenny made sure that her treatment was sexy, even to sliding some of the slick cream into my bottom with her finger, and had to admit to her that I’d enjoyed it. She even had me admit it in my silly maid voice. “ooh la la,” I said to the mirror, kelli ze maid, she likes her bottom spanked, mais oui!”
If I thought my first scene was hard my second scene that night was traumatic. Jenny had arranged a scene in which two very butch women with strap-ons would pretend to take offense at my femininity, bend me over a table, and simulate raping me at both ends. I was to pretend that I liked it at first, but then struggle, and need tying down. Jenny promised me that while I’d suck on the dildo in front of me, the one behind would just go between my legs. I went along with the script pretending to like it as they pretended to use me, but after they tied me up, it all went terribly wrong.
As I was sucking and moaning in mock pleasure, I heard Mistress Kate, the Domme in front of me say, “alright, Sarah’ Jenny is out of the room.” There was an an evil laugh behind me, and my ass was slapped hard. Suddenly, I felt Mistress Sarah lean forward and heard her whisper “Okay, slut, time for the real thing!” When I felt her position the dildo at my virgin anus, I tried to yell out, but the dildo in my throat gagged me completely. I realized that nobody knew anything was wrong as I tried and tried to scream around the dildo filling my throat. My bindings prevented me from escaping or gesturing. All I could do was cry, and I did that – the tears poured out as I was brutally raped at both ends.
I’d gone completely limp, and cold sweat was pouring out of me as my worst nightmare grew worse still. Out of the corner of my tear-filled eye, I saw two men approach, with raging erections. Shouting to the onlookers that it was time for act two, Mistress Sarah savagely slammed into my ass one more time before pulling out, and then, to my horror, I felt my ass invaded by a man’s hard cock. It was bigger than the strap-on, and it burned going in, like a red-hot poker. Mistress Sarah knelt beside me, and took my testicles in her hand, “Now when Mistress Kate pulls out of your mouth, Master Jack is going in. If there is any objection or teeth, I’ll crush these like grapes.” She squeezed once, hard to show me she meant it. I covered my teeth with my lips, and Master Jack’s hard cock slid into my mouth and right to the back of my throat. Mistress Sarah knelt next to me as I was used, and used a riding crop on my bottom with all her might, laughing and encouraging the men to use me and to cum in me. I was vaguely aware of flashing lights as I was used at both ends, and the taste of pre-cum permeated my nose and mouth. Eventually, I felt the two men speeding up, and I felt the man raping my ass shove in with great force. His fingers dug into my ass, which was already on fire from the whipping, and I felt his cock swell as his cum poured into my body. In front of me, Master Jack joined him, and I gagged as his cum was forced down my throat, pulse after sticky pulse.
After an eternity, I heard Jenny’s voice screaming at them to leave me alone, and then, she was untying me, sobbing “oh baby, baby, I’m sorry.” She held me as I cried, then led me to the bathroom, and drew me a bath. I didn’t make her call the cops, since it would have led to my exposure as a cross-dresser, and I could only imagine the horror of having to explain how I got into the position I was in to a jury. Jenny drove me home after awhile, and put me to bed, saying, over and over, “Oh baby, I’m sorry.” All I knew was that I was forever done with transgender fantasies, s/m parties, and Jenny.
Two weeks later, the phone rang. It was Jenny. “Oh baby, I’m sorry,” she said. She was crying. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…but the people who hurt you at the party last month…Master Jack was the leader…he…he has pictures of you, and even pictures of your feminization that he got with a hidden camera in my bedroom…and…he hacked my computer, and got into our chat logs…and then he hacked into your computer…Oh baby, I’m sorry… he says he’ll send the pictures of you to your family, friends, and co-workers if you don’t show up at the party this month, and serve him and his friends again.”
I was shocked. I remembered the flashing lights, and knew they were cameras…and I saw my entire life destroyed. My wife would be shattered, my children would see their dad as a freak, my friends would be gone, and my name, in my profession, would be destroyed. I might never work again.
“I guess I have no choice,” I said. Jenny sniffled and said, “Oh baby, I’m sorry. There’s more…they want you to have your body waxed, and your ears pierced. You know that I’m a beautician, so I can do both of those for you. Come over a bit earlier than last time, so we’ll have time. Oh baby, I’m sorry. But, I think they’ll get bored with you in a few months. I’ve seen them with other shemale slaves, and they never last very long. I didn’t know how they got them, or I’d never have let them attend a party, but there’s hope…Oh baby, I’m sorry.”
And that is how it went, month after month, on the first evening of the month, I was the feminized slave for the horrible quartet of sadists who had tortured me at that first party. I lost track of the number of men they made me service, or the spankings, whippings, and other indignities they inflicted on me. Only a few stood out…the monthly hormone shots, the permanent penis chastity, connecting the head of my cock to the skin behind my testicles, and the branding of my backside as “property of Master Jack.” My anger at Jenny faded as, month after month, she soothed my wounds, and cried with me. “Oh baby, I’m sorry,” she’d sob as she held me. She begged for forgiveness, and over time, I gave it to her. After all, it was obviously not her fault, and she felt horribly about all of it. The months ticked by as I prayed they’d tire of me – the April party was coming up, and I had some dim glimmer that something special was planned. I hoped it was my release.
As midnight approached, Master Jack had me tied into a chair that had a cut out in front, where my testicles dangled. My head was tied back to the back of the chair, by a strap around my forehead. “Well slave,” he told me, this is going to be your final party as my slave. I’m going to release you.” I couldn’t believe it, I was going to be freed. I started to sob with joy. “But there’s one last thing. Before I let you go, I’m going to be sure you don’t serve anyone else this way. I’ve done a lot of body modification over the years, and you’re going to be my next project. I’m going to give you a forked tongue, a split nose, and a few other facial modifications that, well, will guarantee that you won’t be anyone’s pretty anything ever again. Oh, and I’m going to take your nuts off” I started struggling against my bonds as I heard Jenny rush up – she was begging Master Jack not to disfigure me, she was crying, and I could tell that she was pleading for me. I couldn’t hear quite what he told her, but soon she was kneeling alongside my chair. “Oh baby, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…but I’ve gotten him to agree not to make you a freak if…oh baby, I’m sorry…if you beg him to take your nuts off and sign a written request that says it’s of your own free will…please baby…let him do it…just not your face…”
What could I do but agree, beg to be castrated, and sign the forms they held near my hand? I sat there crying as they injected me with local anesthetic and wait for my nuts to go completely numb. They made sure I could see in a mirror as Master Jack opened my sack , and started tying off blood vessels. The rest of the party members watched, and I thought they must have thought it was just another voluntary scene, perhaps a fake one, but strangely, they started counting backward as midnight approached. “Ten…nine…eight…” I heard, as Master Jack made ready for the final cut that would remove my testicles. “Three…two…one…” APRIL FOOL,” the watchers yelled, as my testicles fell into the bowl Master Jack had prepared. I sat in the chair, horrified, half in shock, when I thought nothing more could be done to me. I was wrong. The watchers started to chant “Jenny, Jenny, Jenny” as she stood up, and looked down at me. “Oh baby, I’m sorry,” she said, tearfully…and then started to laugh! A loud, long, full-belly laugh. The watchers were taunting me, sarcastically saying “Oh baby, I’m sorry.”
“Praise Loki, you’re the April Fool,” she crowed. “With this prank, I’ll have pleased Loki enough to become a High Priestess in this, his largest band of worshippers! What a fool you were! From our first online chat, I was preparing for this day! What a prank! You were so easy to fool! For one thing, there were never pictures, after that first party! My leaving the room was planned all along, as everything has been. Every scene, every torment, everything! And all along, you believed my “I’m sorry” routine, my fake tears, everything! You even gave away your testicles!” She carried my testicles over to a brazier that had been set up on an altar, and they all danced as she dropped them into the flame, chanting “Loki! Loki! Loki!” Jenny returned to me, and told me that even though there hadn’t been pictures in the beginning, there were plenty afterward, and she showed them to me, along with the addresses of everyone in my life. “From now on, kelli, you’re a slave of Loki. You’ll serve his worshippers for the rest of your life!
Jenny was as good as her word, and that’s what I do now. I serve at their “worship parties,” but I’m also called on to serve at smaller parties, or just called out to service one man or another. I’ve been feminized enough that it’s almost impossible to hide, so I’ve stopped seeing my family in person. At least they have memories of me as a man. I can still do my job, as it doesn’t require me to be seen, so I’m required to work, while the Loki cult takes most of my earnings.
Jenny has instructed me to write this to commemorate her gift to Loki, and for one other reason. She thinks it’ll make for an even better joke when she convinces someone who has read this story, and should know about the Loki worshippers, to “just try being a French maid for one little party.”
The End
