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Forced to CD Part 1
🕑 Added 2022-03-08 13:54:59 +0000 UTCRyan was a not quite famous scientist who had made his contribution and was waiting for the rest of the scientific world to decide just how important that contribution was. This meant that he had time on his hands! He had never been romantically involved -- mainly because he was a secret transvestite and he had a terrible weakness for dominant women. He was also a coward! So, instead of looking for Mistress Right he had thrown himself completely into a brilliant career and had given up on the hope of ever entering into a committed relationship.
On one fateful day Ryan was reading with great interest the case history of a woman who was imprisoned for keeping a man in bondage for 2 years. It was only by a stroke of bad fortune that she was found out. Ryan was very excited by the thought of being held in bondage by a commanding woman and he was especially aroused when he read that the unfortunate man was discovered helpless in a cot attired in a pink silk dress and silky, frilly pink knickers.
The matter was of especial significance to Ryan because he realized that the woman, who had been recently released, lived quite close by - he recognized her when he went to the local supermarket. Her name was Theresa and he couldn't get her out of his mind!
She was no oil painting -- that was for sure. But, she had that special... something! If a woman was as beautiful as she believed herself to be then Theresa was a goddess. And the clothes she wore!!! More than once Ryan found himself remembering the way that her skirt moved against her stockings (They had to be stockings!) Ryan had a thing for her so big you could prop up a shed with it.
Ryan looked her up in the phone book and, too his surprise, she was listed.
After pondering the matter and exhausting himself with dark and delicious fantasies he resolved to meet this Theresa - but he had a problem: - although he had spent a considerable percentage of his life fantasizing about dominant women, he had never had the courage to submit himself for real. The public nature of his scientific work made him vulnerable to blackmail, he had a reputation and he shuddered at the thought of being trapped in an abusive relationship.
He hatched a cunning plan. He decided to pretend to be a reporter for a popular newspaper. He thought, with a little money by way of enticement, he may persuade her to give a private and anonymous interview and, in that way, he hoped he would be able to ask all sorts of questions under the pretext that it was not himself that was interested in these matters, but rather, his sordid readership.
He picked up the phone... The woman of his fantasies answered and listened to the proposition intensely. She was quite surprised by the fact that Ryan knew who she was.
What Ryan did not know was that this woman recognized the voice on the phone and that he himself would soon become the subject of another, darker fantasy - Theresa's.
Long before she was caught she had become bored with her helpless little plaything. She had broken him and it simply wasn't as much fun as it used to be. She had kept him only for the occasional thrill whilst her sharp mind scoured the urban landscape looking for another victim. One day her attention was drawn to a scientist/writer who was being interviewed on the radio. There was something so cocky about this man. The thought of getting her hands on him and slowly, so slowly......... well, her thoughts gave her a low-down tingle that she hadn't experienced for a long time! She went to the library and found a picture on the internet. She liked what she saw!
Well, fortune had taken a strange twist and now, three years later, she found herself talking to a very familiar voice in the most perplexing of circumstances. If she was right then this man was no reporter......., so why...? Then it dawned on her. The dirty little pervert! She began to hatch a plan of her own!
One week later Ryan found himself apprehensively waiting for Theresa to answer the door. He was very nervous and hoped everything would go according to plan. When she finally opened the door the moment was everything he had hoped it would be -- she looked fantastic!
One condition! - She said, abruptly. 'I am very wary of men and I will require you to wear this before you enter the house.'
She held out a belt. There were attachments at each side to secure the wrists. Ryan reasoned that the woman could not possibly have evil intent because she must be under the impression that his newspaper would be aware of his assignment. He agreed, and buckled the belt on himself before the woman secured his wrists.
Theresa invited him into the house and directed him towards a chair. She sat opposite and invited Ryan to ask his questions. The interview lasted some considerable time during which Ryan discovered a strange and exciting world. According to Theresa, there existed a circle of women who shared a common secret. Unknown to the world, each of them had secured in bondage a man - a slave - a plaything. He discovered a world where women indulged their midnight fantasies and regularly arranged meetings where the helpless slaves were used and abused for the pleasure of the deadlier sex.
Ryan could not help but become excited by the stories that he heard and all the while he was stealing glances at the woman's stocking clad legs and hoping for the occasional glimpse of her satin slip.
Abruptly the woman stated: --
'I think that it is time to put you into your
dress!'
At first Ryan thought that he had misheard: 'I am so sorry, I didn't quite catch that.'
'A pretty pink dress will suit you, I think.' She
continued. 'And then we can have a little chat
about your new life as my sissy slave.'
Ryan was dumbstruck. The woman went on to explain that she knew damned well that he was no reporter and that if he didn't want to get his fingers burnt then he should not have played with fire. Before Ryan had time to rise the woman placed a dog's chain around his neck and dragged him into the bedroom where his new clothes were spread out upon the bed.
It was almost a catatonic state that he experienced, standing there at the side of the bed. He was staring at a collection of pretty clothes that would have been perfectly at home in any one of his fantasies. But, in these circumstances, there was this woman, and a vast uncertainty and fear, -- this woman who was even then removing his last defense against an
unimagined future -- his clothes. Expertly, alternated chains and cuffs, she unbuttoned his confidence. And when his trousers fell away all his hope and self-esteem fell shapeless to the floor.
And worse -- the dressing up! He was helpless as pretty garment after pretty garment adorned his embarrassment. And then..., as a sound he never even thought to imagine in his dreams thrilled his ears, the sound of the zip slipping up his back; he found that he was locked in his utter shame and exposed for what he really was -- a sissy in a sissy-dress!
He was attired in a bra, stockings, silk knickers, satin slip and a beautiful flouncy pink dress with sleeves. He was also wearing a short chain connecting his ankles and the waist belt and wrist restraints that the woman originally gave him at the door.
'Now, Professor, if you don't want to see me
lose my temper and take it out on your backside
with a cane and make you cry, you will do
exactly as I say'.
Ryan was horrified that he had been discovered; - that Theresa knew his identity. He soon found himself kneeling before her. She had instructed him to raise his dress and slip sufficiently so that she could see his knickers. Although his wrists were secured there was nevertheless sufficient freedom for him to do this.
Ryan felt afraid and ashamed to be helpless and feminized. Theresa began asking questions about his sexuality. Ryan could not lie to her -- he was quaking inside and couldn't think straight. He was afraid that she would spot a lie immediately -- she was so very clever.
Theresa was probing Ryan' mind: searching for strengths and weaknesses. She was finding out what turned him on and what frightened him. She was finding out all the things she needed to know in order to exercise complete control over his body and his mind. And all the while Ryan Kneeled before her and answered her questions with his dress and slip raised so that his new mistress could see his knickers and the shrinking bulge of his manhood.
There was one vital piece of information that Theresa desired. She needed a key - a key to Ryan' soul: something that she could use to manipulate his psyche: - to explore the very limits of control and suffering. She began to inform her new plaything of the ways and methods of domination: the implements of control, punishment and chastisement. She was watching for a sign - a giveaway. Then, she mentioned the bag - the pacifier. She saw immediately the fear in his eyes, and secretly -- she was ecstatic
'He is terrified of plastic bag suffocation! -- Bliss upon bliss!'
She paused to enjoy the moment! She allowed the tension to rise and then, when she saw his desperate fingers fiddling for a miracle and she felt that tell tale little thrill that promised ecstasy. -- She continued:-
'Whenever the bag is secured over your head your
hands will be restrained -- just as they are now,
to prevent interference!'
Theresa fancied that she saw something collapse and fall in her new slave; and was that the pounding of his heart that she could hear? She knew with certainty that she had discovered her key!
Ryan was terrified. She left the room and returned with some rope and secured Ryan- ankles to his belt. She then gagged him. Ryan found himself lying on the floor. He was feeling more helpless than he had ever done in his life. His new mistress poured herself a glass of wine and savored the moment. Then she said:-
'I want you out of those restraints and kissing
my feet before I finish this glass of wine or
else I shall leave this room and when I return
I shall be carrying something to slip over your
head.;
Ryan began to struggle - to no avail. Theresa slowly sipped her wine. Ryan occasionally glanced up at her to gauge the seriousness of her intent. He was met with a gaze of stone.
'Plastic is such a common word, don't you
think?' She suddenly remarked.
She took another sip of her wine.
'Polythene! - Now there was a word you can
savor.'
Ryan redoubled his efforts to escape from his bonds.
'The polythene bag was slipped over the
pervert's head.' She abstractly announced.
Ryan let out a little cry of muffled panic. Theresa felt a slow warmth flow from the centre of her being. She rose and walked toward her slave. She stood with her feet quite close to his head. Her slave was too afraid to look at his new Mistress, and yet, too afraid not to.
She watched him crane his neck round. She watched his eyes linger for a moment on her black patent leather shoes, and then climb the sheer slopes of her legs and finally meet her gaze just as she was draining the last of her wine. He pleaded with his eyes. She turned on her heels and left the room.
The woman went to the kitchen; she opened a drawer and retrieved a polythene bag which would easily slip over her victims head. It was very thin and quite transparent. But, instead of returning to her slave, she put on her raincoat and stepped out into the quiet of the night.
The sound of the woman's heels echoed through the street. The night heard the slow clip of her step but could not guess at the thoughts that chimed to the rhythm. Her mind was a ship sailing on a foreign sea. She was dreaming, tasting the possibilities. She was steering a course through uncharted oceans and catching the scents from undiscovered spice islands of exotic desire. She felt the bag in her pocket; she felt its sheer gossamer and in her mind she plunged into the depths of its smooth unyielding horror. She could see herself in her minds eye, her face only inches from that of her new slaves - separated only by this soft feminine thing that she was touching in her pocket - a thin film that would soon mark the boundary between her exquisite pleasure and her slave's complete despair.
With every free step she took she could feel the bonds of her slave tighten. With every free breath that she took she could feel her slave suffer. She delighted in the moment and felt her powers grow. Only a few hours before, her slave was a man of talent and integrity - a man with his destiny in his own hands. Now, he was a feminized object to be controlled and abused - a sissy slave to be humiliated and used for the rest of his useful life.
'No, I must not break this one - he was to
useful. Or...perhaps I will break him -- but
oh so slowly. I will drain every drop of his
imagination to serve my pleasure. I will
bleed him dry. I will feed his little
fantasies. I will occasionally satisfy his
desires, only to fuel his terrible need for me.
I will keep hi hungry for me. And when he is
completely obsessed with me, when he can desire
me no more -- I will make for him a
little silk purse to lock his cock and balls in
-- far to small for an erection. And he shall
wear his prettiest dress and I shall will wear
my silkiest blouse and blackest skirt. And when
he smells my sweet perfume I will slide my hand
up his skirt and stretch the fabric of his
sanity.'
The woman was now very excited. She turned and headed back home.
Soon she was again standing above her new slave. She held the polythene bag and played with it. She watched as Ryan struggled. He occasionally glanced up at her.
Finally she said:-
'Oh, stop trying to escape dear. When I tie up a
slave he stays tied.'
She continued:-
'And don't look so frightened, I wouldn't punish
you for staying exactly where I want you, no -
I wouldn't do that.'
Ryan was visibly relieved.
She continued:-
'I am going to punish you for being a deceitful
little pervert, though!
But not yet. For now, you are going to be a
good sissy girl for me, aren't you?'
Ryan couldn't reply because of the gag but he nodded furiously.
'Well, my little flower, don't you think it was
a little rude to stare at my legs and my
blouse and get yourself all worked up when you
conducted your interview. In future if
you have any stiffies without my permission it
is going to be bag time for sissy - do
you understand?'
Ryan was desperately nodding. The cruel woman had a hard time restraining herself.
'Now, I am going down stairs to prepare a few
things for you. I want you to stay right
here and think of ten different ways you can
please me before I get back.'
A couple of hours later, in the black dead of night, a cat slipped across the deserted road. Half way across - it stopped for a moment. It wasn't a sound that a person could hear. It came from a grill at the bottom of a house. It was a vent connected to the basement via a long pipe. Through this came a very faint sound. If we allow our imagination to follow that pipe to where and when it leads, we come out into a room. The room contains a large cot with iron bars -- almost like a prison cell. There is also a large block - rather like an altar.
Strapped to the block with his hands secured close to the base with cuffs and chains, is a rather extraordinarily dressed man. The man's legs are secured above and are spread-eagled - they are attached to a rail. He is wearing a pretty satin dress. His dress writhes - all frills and glossy pinks dancing in the light. It shines with silky smoothness. The dress dances because the man dressed in it is dancing. Beside the man stands a woman. Her skirt bulges at the front because she is wearing a strap-on. At this moment, she is working something up Ryan' ass. However, it is not only this painful intrusion that makes him dance so -- it is also the smooth polythene bag she has secured over his head with an elastic band.
It had taken Theresa a while to find one the right size for what she had in mind: - almost large enough to contain a lungful - but not quite. So when sissy finally let go of the breath that she had been ordering him to hold for so long, some of it (but not all) escaped through the elastic band. She was still glowing from the thrill of pulling the bag over the face of her slave for the first time -- Oh, his frightened little face.
Sissy is now searching desperately -- his tongue poking at the polythene. This is the bit that she has been waiting for -- she watches as he frantically searches in the hopeless confines of the bag for one more lungful of air. The cruel material slamming shut across his attempts to breathe and satisfy his terrible need.
It was his first muffled cry of panic that the cat had heard a few moments ago.
'I WANT YOU TO SUFFER FOR ME A LITTLE MORE, MY PETAL' His Nemesis says in a firm matronly voice.'
It isn't a request!
'Try to think of all the lovely dresses I am
going to make you wear', she mocks.
Let us leave them now, let us wind our way back up the pipe and into the street and watch the cat as it as it slips noiselessly through the night.
Again, it hovers in the moment as something soft and fraught touches its' ears. And yet again, it stops - and hangs there. At last, it turns and disappears into the maze of shadows.
