- Warning! This story might contain
activities that might not be suitable in selfbondage. Please
- Story ideas by Rebecca.
- Written by Bound Jenny.
- I obtained the cooperation of a cross-dressing
acquaintance of mine to get the man's side of the issue, to get
the reactions of someone who, like the main character, was already
inclined to clandestinely wearing feminine undergarments. I would
get him to sign up for the forum, but he is not into bondage,
either as a man or as Rebecca, his feminine alter ego.
- My friend was at first a bit taken aback,
but readily complied and answered all my questions over coffee
at a local coffee shop (much to the consternation of the people
at neighboring tables, but I always like to shock nosey people
who eavesdrop). The result is this story, which is based on his
answers to my questions, his particular fears about being discovered,
and some of his personal fantasies. Hence the credits at the
- Of course, mixed in with my own diabolical
machinations about what I would do to someone in such a case.
- My name is Barbie Doll, or it is now.
You can call me Barbie for short. It used to be Greg. This is
my story. I had to write it down on paper smuggled a sheet at
a time to a secret cache, using the remaining ink from spent
pens, so there will be a written account of my experiences, if
someone will ever find them...
- Chapter One - Come into my parlor,
said the spider...
- Act I - Caught
- I met Madam - that's the only name she
allows me to use now - three years ago. It was not the first
acquaintance, because she was my boss, at work (now she's my
Mistress for everything). There was a theft of sensitive material,
and Madam ordered everyone searched - she had friends in high
places who could deliver the right warrants. I had the bad luck
of wearing feminine undergarments that day. Madam called me into
Her office, and closed the door.
- "So you like to dress like a girl,
in frilly underwear?" she said, half-mockingly, half-seductively.
I said nothing.
- "You don't have to answer anything,
sissy boy." she said icily, waving a folder. "It's
all in this report" and she tossed it onto the desk in front
of me. I just sat there, sheepishly, silent, more from shame
than anything else, with a good measure of avoiding self-incrimination.
- "News travels fast. By this time,
half the company knows about your undies." I looked up,
shocked. "No, I didn't say anything. You don't get up where
I am on the ladder unless you learn some measure of discretion.
In any case, it would get me into trouble because you could very
easily sue me for hate or discrimination or something like that."
She paused for several seconds, obviously for a psychological
effect. It worked. I was nervous as hell, nearly wetting my panty.
- "I can't fire you, at least not on
these grounds. But I do like you. You're punctual, efficient,
and creative. Up to now, your file is spotless. But you will
be having a rough time with the other employees from now on.
I cannot allow that. I need a united team, not a bunch of kids
ganging up on the odd man out." I digested the words, and
it seemed she was playing with me. Little did I know then that
this impression had much more far-reaching implications. I was
half-expecting the usual bogus "you're not a team player"
excuse for being fired.
- "You cannot quit, because you are
under contract." That was true. I was stuck and if I quit,
it would be a breach of contract, and I would be sued by Madam's
army of lawyers. The bare minimum it would cost me is the cessation
penalty. And my own lawyer. I would be ruined.
- "I want you to work for me, personally."
That startled the hell out of me. My face went blank. "Of
course, if you want to. The other alternative is dismissal, in
a couple of weeks, after you have been through hell with the
rest of your co-workers, and when I have a solid reason to fire
you." I finally gathered up the courage to speak.
- "What do you propose, ma'am?"
I asked somberly.
- "I need you at home, a personal assistant
of sorts. You will be getting a raise in salary, and you will
be lodged at my expense, in house." Something in the back
of my mind clicked wrong, but I ignored it. I was in an apartment
at the moment, single, and in the past few years the rent was
raised substantially, in addition to rising costs for heat, gas
to drive to work, and so on. I'm not even getting into the exasperating
neighbors. She must have detected my uncertainty, and added,
gently, "I can give you a few days to think about it. Paid
leave. This weekend, Saturday, I want you to come over to my
house, and we will discuss my offer in more depth."
- I thought hard for a few seconds, my train
of thought interrupted by a cold "If you don't give me a
firm answer by then, I guarantee that you will be so miserable
over the next couple of weeks that you will beg me to fire you."
I decided to take her offer of paid leave, and agreed to meet
with her, in her home, the following Saturday at 9 am sharp.
She firmly requested, before I left her office, to wear my girly
stuff on Saturday.
- I went straight home, and just let myself
drop in the recliner. I drank several beers, watching TV distractedly,
because my mind wandered to the day's events. If it wasn't for
Madam's request, earlier, I would have taken every bit of female
clothing I had and put it in the charity collection bin at the
nearby strip mall.
- The second day, I started drifting into
a mild depression. What the hell was I going to do now? I couldn't
even cite the company as a reference! If an interviewer called
them, they would find out the truth! If I quit, I would be sued,
and the stain of a breach of contract would be on my record -
very bad for job prospects. Even so, in a job interview, the
inevitable question would be asked: why did I quit? Interviewers
can detect any attempts to conceal an awkward truth. No matter
how much I tried to find an exit from this situation, the only
way out was Madam...
- The third day, I tried to clear out my
mind and start psyching myself up for Saturday's meeting with
Madam, looking at the positive aspects of the offer. A raise,
a decent roof over my head, a quiet job away from the rat race,
no traffic to fight every morning and evening. It was that or
try to land any job I could find, with the added weight of either
being psychologically tortured by my co-workers every day for
the next few weeks, until Madam decided that firing me was merciful
(like shooting an injured horse), or being sued into abject poverty
for breach of contract.
- My mind returned to the question of her
request that I wear my frillies to the meeting. Why in the world
would she ask that? Just to embarass me? It's too late for that,
I thought. Then it dawned on me that she didn't mind my undergarment
preferences. A thought then entered my mind that later, in hindsight,
I should have avoided: she'll let me wear them any time! At that
point, I resolved to open my mind to any possibility, any offer,
and consider them objectively before saying no. I made a list
of pros and cons of accepting Madam's offer, though the list
of cons probably would have been longer had I known then what
I know now.
- Saturday finally came, and I rose early
to take a good, hot shower, clean myself up, shave (I hadn't
shaved since that fateful day... my shaver's motor complained
loudly), and put on my nicest feminine undies. Madam had requested
it, and there was an irresistible quality to her. When she requested
something, one felt compelled to comply.
- Driving over to Madam's house, I had major
butterflies in my stomach. As the distance to my destination
diminished, my nerves became progressively shakier, and the butterflies
coalesced into a cold knot. My heart pumped hard, I could hear
my pulse in my ears, over the road noise.
- At 8:55 am, I pulled into the entrance,
and stopped in front of the high metal gate that blocked the
drive up to her luxurious home. I rolled down the window and
pressed the intercom button on the box next to the car. "Yes?"
a female voice replied. I named myself. "Enter." I
watched the gates open, and I rolled forward. In the rearview
mirror, I saw the them close behind me. For a moment, I had a
feeling of entrapment, like I just driven into a prison.
- I pulled up to the parking area, near
the front door, and parked my car next to a large, spotless ruby
red Ford. Madam's car. My dingy little import sedan looked like
a cheap toy next to it. I got out and locked the door, and started
up the steps to the front door. My pace was sluggish, like I
had to fight against molasses, or the feeling one has in a dream
when trying to run away from something. I still could hear my
heart pumping furiously in my ears, and my chest was pounding
quite perceptibly. I was scared out of my wits.
- Before I reached the door, it was opened
by a fifty-something maid in a black uniform with a white apron,
and that little cap with the lace edge on her head. She looked
dour, a pinched old prune who seemed to have little room in her
heart for anything remotely resembling fun. "Please follow
me, sir." she said unemotionally. I recognized the voice
from the intercom.
- I followed her along, the hard heels of
her pumps on the marble floor could be heard echoing through
the house. Other sounds of heels could also be heard, muffled
by walls and distance. Other than that, it was deathly quiet
in the place. It gave me the creeps, and didn't do any good for
my nerves. It felt like I was about to crumple down on the floor
and roll myself up in a fetal position.
- The maid led me up to a double door, and
ordered, "Wait here" before rapping sharply three times
on the right hand door. I heard Madam's voice call out, "Show
him in!". My heart almost stopped, and my fight-or-flight
instinct almost decided in favor of the latter. The maid opened
the door, and waved me inside without further comment.
- Act II - The Offer
- The large study was lined with bookshelves
on three of the four walls, all filled with books that seemed
to be antiques for the most part. I knew that Madam was well-educated
and well-read, but this was impressive.
- "Sit down." she ordered gently.
I felt totally compelled to obey. I sat in a chair across from
Madam, a large, elaborately and finely finished oak desk separating
us. The only other sound in the room, apart from her voice and
my pounding heart, was a clock slowly tick-tocking away. Agonizing
seconds passed before that irresistible voice spoke again, accompanied
by those dark, nearly black eyes drilling into my soul.
- "I have always liked you, Greg."
This was the first time she referred to me by my first name.
"You're polite, gallant, sensitive to the ladies. I suppose
that the feminine side that you cultivate under your manly clothes
helps you see the other side of the coin." Her voice changed
from firm authority to gentle conversation. I had never seen
that from her before. I fell into the trap, and relaxed. Then
tensed up again. "I like that part of you." She was
toying with me! I'm not a praying man... girl... but at that
moment I prayed that she would get to the point.
- "You are also very expedient when
it comes to expressing your thoughts, even if right now you are
quite silent. So I will honor you by getting to the point."
- "I need a personal assistant, to
manage my personal affairs. Your organizational skills are exceptional,
and that's why I'm giving you a chance. You will arrange my schedules,
take calls, read and sort my business mail, and generally keep
things tidy in my office and wherever I tell you." I ventured
a few words. "A kind of personal secretary?" A corner
of her mouth turned up, and she eyed me, her gaze sweeping up
and down. "Yes, that and a bit more." She paused and
stood up. "Come with me."
- In her heels, which were always high stilettos
with a hard tip that made a very special sound (the kind that
makes me shudder in desire when I hear it), she was taller than
me. I figured that she was about the same height, and build (I'm
rather slim), but for her waist - it was gorgeously small compared
to the rest of her finely tailored attributes. It made me want
to put my hands around it, just to see if I could connect my
fingers on either side. I followed her, and she must have known
that I was surreptitiously observing her backside because she
was swinging it just enough to get me going, the hem of her tight
skirt going this way and that. The sound of her heels on the
hard floor didn't do much to help keep my urges down.
- Madam is a lovely woman, combining the
raw sexiness of Melinda Clarke and the mature beauty of Marg
Helgenberger. And maybe a dash of Caroline Munro's intense gaze.
Her black hair went to just below her shoulders. Her hands have
long, thin fingers, looking that much longer because of the magnificently
manicured fingernails. Did I mention those eyes? She was no slouch
in the boob department, either. A lot of guys wish their boss
could be this hot.
- "This is a very large house, and
I need people to keep it tidy and organized." "The
maid?" "Yes, that's Templeton, the head maid. I suggest
you mind her instructions." I figured that was not a mere
suggestion. "You will also run into Lennox, her right-hand
and night maid." Madam led me around, showing me each room,
until we came back to her study. I made to sit down, and she
said, "It's not over yet."
- Madam opened what looked like a closet
door, but it led to a medium-sized room, part dressing room and
part doll museum. Two whole walls were displays lined with Barbie
dolls, of every possible era. "Nearly every collectible
Barbie is here, including the very first from 1959, and its ancestor,
a German doll called Bild Lilly. I worked very hard to build
this collection." she said as she went to the table at the
room's center. Her hand went into her jacket's pocket for a second
or two and reemerged. The middle of the table rose up, exposing
a glass case containing a very old, worn Barbie doll. Her blonde
hair was dingy, her clothes faded, the plastic flesh lighter
here and there, exposed to years and years of sunlight. "That's
my very first Barbie. It's not worth much as a collector's item,
but it is very valuable to me. She was my perpetual playmate,
always loyal, no matter how many times my parents moved."
I started feeling sympathy for this woman, this grande dame.
Now I noticed something about her, as she stood there. Her waist,
her physique, it was almost Barbie-like in proportions! More
like the old Barbies, before they made them "anatomically
correct" in 2000. Actually, Madam had much nicer curves
- she was not molded in plastic! She was very fit.
- It was very unusual for Madam to share
her innermost feelings like this, especially with an employee.
The display case retracted into the tabletop and she urged me
back into the study. "You may sit." her tone returned
to a more formal one. I obeyed.
- She took out a thick folder. "I did
a bit of research. I know both your parents have passed away.
And you don't seem to have anyone else in your life, no close
family, a few acquaintances, not really close... Your finances
are precarious, though." I felt very uncomfortable having
my life dissected like this.
- "I can help you. I have an amended
version of the contract on hand, and it is binding on both of
us. I guarantee in writing that you will be housed, fed, clothed
and otherwise taken good care of for as long as necessary. In
return, you must pledge your loyalty to me, work for me efficiently
and obediently, and obey all the house rules." This offer
was too good to be true, but I was desperate enough to accept
anything to avoid the financial doom that was awaiting me in
what I figured would be a year and a half, at most.
- "What does my current underwear have
to do with all this?" I ventured, a bit more courageously
and acting businesslike, believing that it would impress Madam
now that she had offered me a post of apparently vital importance
to her. She smiled faintly, her eyes bright. "It has everything
to do with this." she said, teasingly. The cold knot reappeared
in my gut.
- "You are here because your little
fetish got you in trouble. I am offering you a way to fulfill
that fetish, all the while allowing you to prosper and feel useful.
Remember, you are still bound by the old contract to work for
me for another two years. The amendments extend the contract
indefinitely, with guaranteed job security. Leaving is a breach
of contract, and I doubt you will last more than a week, two
at the most, if you decide to continue honoring the contract
as it is now." She was right about that, and she was putting
the best foot forward before dropping the bomb. I had a suspicion
as to what it was.
- Act III - Point of no return
- "There is one thing I don't have
in my Barbie collection, and it is something that was never produced
or marketed." Seconds of suspense, as she drilled her gaze
into me. "A real, live Barbie doll." My jaw dropped.
- "What?!?" I exploded, carelessly.
The deep drilling of her eyes turned into ice picks. "I
suggest you control yourself, from now on." Madam said sharply,
adding, "Either way, whether you accept the amended contract
or not. Most especially if you accept." The gentle conversation
tone was gone too. She softened a bit, and sat on the edge of
the large desk, near me. In my field of view, her slender waist
flared out to her curved hips, down the length of her skirt,
along her black nylon sheathed legs, to those wonderful high
heeled shoes that I loved hearing on the floor at work.
- "Greg, I understand your reticence.
You will have to give up everything around you. Not that you
have much right now, according to my sources." I could smell
her perfume now, it was a scent that drove me wild, in normal
circumstances. Her mature air, she must have been in her mid
to late forties, and impeccable dressing style, made her quite
desirable. I had just turned twenty-five. She was old enough
to be my mother. I looked for an escape.
- "I-I... How will I take care of my
personal affairs? My apartment? My stuff?" She put a gentle
hand on my shoulder, reassuring me, "Everything will be
taken care of, not the least of which, you. I promise that you
will be taken care of, not harmed."
- "Can't one of your maids be..."
my words trailed off as I was grasping at straws that I found
were non-existent. "That would not be the same. I can't
be a woman with her, and she can't be a man to me." she
said, leaning closer, and I could feel her breath on my neck.
I succumbed to a moment of weakness, and started crying silently.
I was out of options, save for Madam...
- "I will take care of you, Greg, just
like I take care of my collection. My Barbie dolls are precious
to me. And I have to admit, you're the kind of man I like."
- "Can't I be Ken, then?" I asked,
sobbing. "No, I don't collect Kens." Her tone changed
to a playful one. "It would be fun! We can both be satisfied,
fulfilled. You like dressing up like a girl, no? I have always
wanted to have a live Barbie doll to play with. And a decent
man to play with when I need one." The last sentence was
deliberately pronounced with a slow, sultry tone. Something inside
me snapped. I took her hand, the one resting on my shoulder,
and squeezed. "I accept your terms."
- Considering the options available at the
time, it was the best one. I was guaranteed lodgings, food, all
the feminine clothing I wanted - and more, generous pay (nearly
double), and a secure, fulfilling job. And the side benefits
seemed to be, initially, quite interesting. How many men have
dreamed of sleeping with their female employer, especially if
she's hot like Madam? My glands won out over my neurons, and
- Chapter Two - Barbie Doll comes
- Act I - Remodeling
- "From now on, you may only address
me as Madam, and speak only when I allow you to, or when business
requires it." she started as soon as I put the pen down.
"You will be tutored in the fine art of being a proper lady,
and from now on, your only clothes will be women's clothes. You
will begin living, breathing, sleeping, eating and thinking like
a woman. Your body will be epilated, yes, everything removed
so it won't come back. I don't like hairy dolls. You will also
begin waist training, with progressively tighter corsets, so
you will really look like a Barbie Doll, which is your name now,
not just dress like one." A pause.
- "Oh yes, Barbie, you will need a
decent pair of tits. For now, they will be glued on, but you
will be receiving hormone treatments so they can grow on their
own. When they're large enough, you'll get implants to make them
bigger. You're still young, so the growth potential is still
good." I swallowed nervously at the potential fate of what
remained of my masculinity. Madam leaned close, and said, with
a wink, "Don't worry about your little soldier," pausing
as she glanced down, "he will still be able to stand at
attention like he is now. He'll just be confined to quarters
until he's needed."
- Straightening, she continued her lecture.
"You will also be trained to serve this household as my
personal assistant, fulfilling those duties I mentioned earlier.
When you become presentable, I will also take you along in my
travels." My eyes opened wide at this - going out in public
dressed up! I was about to protest when common sense told me
to stay quiet.
- "Remember, darling, you signed and
agreed to the terms, which I explained to you very clearly."
She produced a tape, "And this is the proof. So you can't
weasel out of this one. Seriously, I don't want you to escape.
I like you too much. I just need something more and you're the
perfect candidate to fill all the qualifications listed. All
I want is for you to play along, and everything will be all right."
She walked around her desk and pressed the intercom button.
- "Templeton, Barbie is ready. You
may come and collect her." she lifted her finger from the
button, and said, "Strip to your undies, now." I was
trapped. I said, in my best feminine falsetto, "Yes, Madam."
and started removing my male rags. By the time I had finished,
and was standing there, embarassed and clad only in a bra, panty
and stockings, even the shoes came off, Templeton arrived and
I saw a faint, mocking grin on her face. Madam said, "There
is a lot of work to do, Templeton. Show Barbie to the spa."
- I was led, or paraded, in my girly undies,
through the corridors - fortunately no one was around - until
I reached the "spa", a kind of body shop for people,
where they get made over and transformed. I was to get a major
- The first week, I saw little of Madam.
I was thoroughly epilated, including my face and head, so a decent
wig could be put on and look convincing. A woman doctor came
to examine me, and she said that I would be getting my first
hormone treatments by the end of the week, and that I would be
taking them for the rest of my life.
- I had fake nails put on, painted and glossed
to perfection. My eyebrows were plucked and reshaped into an
arching curve, very feminine. I was starting to enjoy this, especially
after the makeup girls fixed my face up nicely and my first wig
was perched on my head. My first glance in the mirror gave me
a start, because it took me several seconds to recognize myself.
The biggest tip-off was the chin hanging nearly to the floor.
I was gorgeous! I had dreamed of going for a makeover and photo
session, just for fun. But this was fantastic! Any doubts remaining
in my mind vanished at that point.
- My first corsets arrived too. They were
as a set, progressively smaller, and to be supervised by Templeton
herself in their daily tightening. I was sternly warned to comply.
This was the first time I was laced into a corset. It wasn't
painful, at first, but it was slightly distressing. I got used
to it rather quickly, even felt very sexy in them.
- Madam had a set of breast forms specially
made for me, and they were attached to my chest with medical
glue. It felt strange to have those weights on my chest, but
compellingly pleasant, even erotic. Again, my fantasy of a transformation
- My "little soldier", as Madam
playfully called my cock, was "confined to quarters".
A prosthetic set of female genitalia was delivered and likewise
glued to my body. My penis was placed pointing downward, inside
a tube that was connected to where a girl would pee. Now I even
had to go to the bathroom like a girl. Because of this, one of
the maids had to clean me, or make sure I cleaned myself, at
least twice daily, to make sure nothing nasty took up residence
there. There was an additional feature to my fake cunt: a built-in
vibrator that stimulated me vigorously, but since I was more
or less denied a proper erection, it just got me very, very horny.
- And only Madam had the means to control
it. I was totally dependent on her for any form of carnal pleasure.
- My wardrobe was quite well stocked. I
was fortunate enough to be about the same size as Madam, and
with a few adjustments, I wore the outfits she no longer used.
They were by no means worn out; her dresses, skirts and other
clothing were in mint condition, meticulously cleaned by the
in-house laundry service. For the first time, I wore a woman's
slip. The silky fabric caressed my shaved and stockinged legs
in a very erotic manner. I also wore frilly nightgowns for sleeping,
a very different pleasure. I had never dreamed that being a woman
was so... sensual. Now I understood why women loved their soft
and frilly clothes...
- I was also trained to speak and act like
a woman, or more like a shy girl, and to obey unconditionally.
I was taught how to walk like a girl, in my high heels and corset,
which actually helped. Constricted and perched on those precarious
heels (I had never even tried more than two inches before, and
only once), I had to use my hips to walk and keep balance. It
only took a couple of afternoon sessions to become proficient
in sensually bobbing my hips left and right, and holding a normal
pace, well, at a normal speed but with slightly shorter and quicker
steps. I was made to practice in the long, cavernous corridor
so I could hear the echo of my heels on the hard floor, useful
feedback and very stimulating too.
- Act II - Toy and Slave
- After the first month of my transformation,
Madam came to inspect me. I stood there in a dark grey ladies
business suit, with a straight skirt ending just above the knee,
and a form-fitting jacket over a beautiful white blouse. My legs
were encased in silky black stockings, and I wore shiny black
pumps with three-inch heels (with the prospect of going higher
soon). She walked several times around me, in silence, as I stood
there, nearly at attention, in the posture that was taught to
me: shoulders back, chest out, legs together, arms hanging relaxed.
- "Very nice." she began. She
ran her hands down my sides, from the bust down to my waist,
over my hips. "Excellent progress, better than I expected.
But there is still more work to do. Fortunately, your original
face is sufficiently androgynous to pass well as female with
proper makeup." She was quite right there. Her makeup girls
were real artists, and with my long blonde wig, I really looked
like a woman. I smiled like I was taught, shyly. "You are
really beautiful. But the best is yet to come." All of a
sudden, I felt appreciated like I had never been in my life.
Up to this day, I always tried to please people by doing things
well. Now I pleased just by being someone. A spark ignited in
- "Come along, Barbie Doll. I have
something to show you." she prodded, smiling. I obediently
followed Madam as she walked along. I watched her move as she
walked, and tried to imitate her gait. I felt so... sexy! For
a second, I wondered if I was going crazy, but then, I thought,
damn it, I wanted this!
- We returned to the study, and she ushered
me into the doll collection room beyond. She ordered me to sit
down, and I complied, obediently, partly because I was obligated
by contract, and partly because Madam is so irresistible. I crossed
my legs as I was taught, and clasped my hands on my lap, holding
my arms close to my sides. The sensation was exciting, to be
with Madam, to be so completely transformed as to be unrecognizable.
My eyes were bright with joy.
- "The clothes you are wearing now,
or any clothes that I will allow you to wear during your work
hours for me, will be for those hours only. When you will begin
working for me for real, things will change." I had a small
knot of apprehension. "Don't worry, dear Barbie, no harm
will come to you." She opened some folding doors in the
wall opposite the doll display, revealing a closet full of outfits,
full-sized replicas of Barbie doll outfits!
- A fairy costume with wings, a wedding
gown, a gold lamé evening dress, a cheerleader outfit,
a cowgirl costume, all sorts of costumes to make any live doll
fantasy come true. They were all so beautiful!
- "This is your special dressing room
and these will be your clothes when you are not working, and
when your figure will be ready for them. Of course, for sleeping,
you will still wear nightgowns as necessary. From nine to five,
you will be Barbie the personal secretary. From five o'clock
to nine the next morning, changing included, you will be my Barbie
Doll, my personal toy, playmate and mine to do with as I please.
It's in your contract." Madam had come toward me and towered
over me, both ominously and sensually. I smelled her perfume
over mine, and it turned me on. The prospect of her having her
way with me aroused me even more. I was desperately wishing that
Madam would turn on the vibrator built into my fake cunt. I would
have done anything at that moment to feel that wonderful tremor
between my legs.
- "Do you like what you see?"
It was the first time she had asked me a question that allowed
me to speak in her presence since my transformation began. Nervous
as a schoolgirl, bright eyed, I looked up at her, and said, "Yes,
Madam." She smiled slightly, a satisfied look on her face.
But there was more in her expression. "Come with me."
- I stood up, and followed her to the far
wall. One of the doll display cases swung open. I was excited
because it was like a secret door in a mystery movie. I was in
a lavishly decorated bedroom, frilly and feminine, pink and white
and purple shades, the wallpaper was a light lavender color and
had little pink hearts all over. The bed was a four-poster with
the overhead thing and the drapes. It looked like a full-sized
replica of a doll house bedroom. "This is your new bedroom,
and behind that door," she pointed at a door opposite, "are
your working outfits, regular clothes. I had them moved there
- I was turning around, excitedly, looking
at the feminine decor. I had dreamed of redecorating my own bedroom
like this, but I would never have snagged a girlfriend with that.
Well, now that issue was resolved. Madam technically was my girlfriend,
though my current appearance didn't suggest that. But Madam gave
me all this! Behind me, she approached silently, despite her
hard heels, and embraced me tightly. I shuddered in reaction
to this, pleasantly. Madam was touching me, holding me, caressing
me in a very erotic manner. I felt a hand under my skirt, and
inside my fake cunt, my cock was starting to stiffen a little.
Her hand reached its destination, and she started rubbing me
gently. Then my earlier wish came true. The built-in vibrator
- As I was distracted by the wonderful vibration
in my groin, Madam quickly slipped some handcuffs on my wrists.
While I recovered from the surprise, she pulled me over to the
bed and pushed me onto it. In a second, she was on top of me,
a veritable animal. I had never experienced this kind of physical
relationship with a woman before, and I realized that it turned
me on more than anything I had experienced in the past. The handcuffs
made it even more exciting, the feeling of being exposed, vulnerable,
helpless and as Madam had said, I was hers to do with as she
- And I was pleased too.
- Madam has opened my jacket and my blouse,
and was caressing, kissing and licking me very sensually and
passionately. One hand went up my skirt again, gently caressing
my thighs with her long fingernails, in that sensitive area just
below the crotch. Squirming in delight under her weight, pulling
futilely but playfully against the cuffs, I was reaching a peak
of arousal, as much as my restricted manhood could have experienced,
when Madam turned off the vibrator and got off of me.
- As I lay there panting, handcuffed, recovering
from the intense stimulation, she said, her voice still erotically
husky from the activity, her dark eyes reflecting the light in
the room, "That is a sample of the kind of reward you will
get when you please me." In my impossibly heightened state
of desire, there was nothing more I wanted than to please her,
to have more of her, to let her have her way with me as she just
did, but to go so much farther, unimaginably so. My fantasies
started running wild.
- She buttoned up my blouse and jacket,
and took the cuffs off, before leading me back to my training.
In my mind, at that moment, I wanted to be Madam's toy, her lovely
- End of Part 1
Barbie Clause - Part 2