Slut Boy Mega Collection Volume 1

Chapter Twelve-3

I can tell by his eyes that he’s burning with questions. Fortunately for him though he’s learned his lesson about speaking out of turn. And then all the answers become apparent, as I pull up a tray full of cosmetics, and begin making up his face.

Slut-boy flushes red and squirms a bit then, and I’m forced to slap him hard.

“Hold still, Slut-boy! I’m turning you into the prettiest little she-male in my stable! And you will not only willingly submit to this, you will learn to do it for yourself! After tonight I expect you to exhaustively research the subject, so that you can beautifully feminize yourself for me every time I summon you. From now on that will be the first thing you do upon arrival here. Believe me, I want you unbearably weak and humiliated before I even begin to go to work on you...”

Slut-boy sinks into mortified submission. Then with the speed and ease of long practice I pluck his eyebrows and make his face up to look like the most brazen, depraved little slut imaginable. Next I shape and polish and paint his finger and toe nails a bright hot pink. While these dry I proceed to shave off all his disgusting body hair.

“You will do this daily, Slut-boy,” I inform him, as my straight razor skims over his balls and removes the last little trace. “Sluts of mine don’t dare sport a trace of body hair. And you must grow those nails out as long as you can and keep them presentable.”

Grinning at his appalled dismay, I pinch Slut-boy’s powdered cheek.

“Now then, let’s see what we can do with those lovely black locks. Truly they were what attracted me to you in the first place – next to your tiny size and unmistakable air of vulnerability and insecurity, that is...” Humming to myself I sit him up, pull free his ponytail and brush out that silky black banner. Then I use a curler and tons of hair spray to style him up appropriately. When finished I can’t believe my luck and skill.

No one in the world could look this Slut-boy in the face and mistake him for anything other than a beautifully slutty little teenage female prostitute! All that’s left is to dress up the rest of him...

I start with stockings of course, hot pink silk to match his nails. The tops, garters and belts sport ruffled white lace, and I force his feet into four-inch pumps of the same bright white. Sheer pink crotch-less silk panties are pulled up over his silly flat hips, and his even sillier genitals hang through the opening. Well, his balls do anyway – suddenly I notice that his miniscule prick is rigidly erect once again, and his breath heavy with arousal. Smirking, I slap his prick hard, and Slut-boy cries out uncontrollably as it flies down, bounces and waggles all around.

“You like this too, don’t you sissy? Being feminized turns you on. You shamelessly disgusting little slut! You get ten swats on the c**k for that: a punishment for pleasure without permission and a simultaneous reward once again for the speed and slavishness of your submission to me.”

I stand him before me and slap his c**k down as hard as I can ten times. And though I know this must hurt like hell – the upper side of the shaft is bruised and inflamed by the end – Slut-boy enjoys it immensely. Having his painfully burning boner flopping wildly around before finally straining its way back up straight is incredibly sexually stimulating. Ah, but then when I stop! Then comes the true torment, as he’s once again left gasping and incredibly horny and yet woefully unfulfilled. How long until he realizes that this state of affairs will soon become constant and eternal, that being madly, deliriously excited with no way to relieve that physical, emotional, and psychological maelstrom will from now on be the defining condition of his existence? That’s always deliciously interesting to observe as well. For now Slut-boy just groans and whimpers in distress, and docilely submits to the rest of his cross-dressing.

His skimpy little A-cup bra is matching pink with white lace trim, and I force him to learn how to don it and work the clasp by himself. The silk choker I fasten about his throat has a ruffled-lace flower front and center, and lastly I put fingerless lace gloves on each hand. Damn, he looks so sexy and humiliated, so pretty and reluctantly aroused that I want to f**k his brains out yet again right on the spot. Indeed, I can tell by the pleading way he looks at me, his eyes constantly darting down to my erection, that he wants to be ploughed and pounded out of his mind again too. Well, we’ll both just have to wait. There are more important things to do right now

Still, that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun first!

“Come with me, Slut-boy.”

I lead him, tottering in his high-high heels and still moving very gingerly after his brutal butt-f*****g, over to a full-length wall mirror. I position him in front of it and loom over him from behind. Bending down, I begin whispering terribly arousing humiliation right into his ear.

“Look at you, Slut-boy!” I hiss. “Take a good, long hard look at yourself. What do you see? You’ve become an impossibly slutty little she-male! An intolerably shameless sissy, trying pathetically to emulate the by-far superior s*x! And yet you still feel soooo sexy at the sight, don’t you? You’re so ashamed of yourself, and yet so aroused you can barely stand it! Listen to you! You’re panting like a b***h in heat! And that flaming red in your cheeks isn’t just the blush I brushed on you, is it? Face it, your face is flushed with burning lust! And what the hell is this?”

I lick my index finger, reach around and down and run it up and down the sensitive underside of his stiffly upright erection. “You’re harder than ever! Your tiny little p***s is as big as it can possibly get!”

Slut-boy moans uncontrollably, and then whimpers with squirming need as I progress to worrying the nerve-packed tip, which is already leaking sticky-sweet pre-come. I pinch that tip between my fingers then, squeezing it tight and pushing his urgent erection straight down, mixing cruel pain and raving arousal together. Slut-boy releases an inarticulate cry, and a tear tracks down his rouged and powdered cheek.

“You’d give anything to have me f**k you now, wouldn’t you slut? To make you live up to your name and appearance by stabbing your ass senseless with my big, hard, impossibly macho c**k. Admit it, Slut-boy!”

“Yes, Goddess,” he gasps, “Please f**k me!”

“Show me how much you want it then,” I tease, still squeezing and rubbing the soft tip of his prick and holding it cruelly back-bent. “Stick your hand behind you, through the slit in your pretty pink panties and finger your hungry boy-cunt. I bet it’s still nice and stretched out, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Goddess! Oh, oh, oooooooooohhhhhh!”

Slut-boy moans and writhes like a w***e, avidly watching in the mirror he stimulates his back and I his front. His knees shake, he quivers and quavers and is obviously nearly mad with arousal.

“Oh, you want so much to be f****d!” I breathe right into his ear. Then I stick my tongue in there and slather it around, something I know drives guys absolutely wild. “You’d endure anything for the divine privilege of having your Goddess shove you down and bury herself to the hilt in your sissy, slutty little body!”

“Oh yes! Oh please, please, please!”

“Well then, Slut-boy, endure everything you must before I finally consent to f**k you again. You submit eagerly, willingly, ecstatically to everything I demand for the next hour or two. And maybe then your Goddess will f**k you. Now stop touching yourself!”

I release his straining prick and step away, giggling at Slut-boy’s squirming, whimpering torment as it leaps back and waggles its way upright, leaving him bursting with arousal and pathetically unfulfilled yet again. Opening a cupboard, I retrieve my camera and get down to business at last.

“Okay, Slut-boy, turn and face me. I want you to practice acting the slut for me. Vamp and preen and pose; show me with your body language and facial expressions how sexy and slutty and feminine you are. Lure me with your allure, make me want to f**k you as badly as you want that rock hard c**k!”

Oh, he is a natural at this! Most guys are exquisitely uncomfortable the first time. Not only that, but they’re utterly clueless at acting, and the camera unnerves them even more. But not this, Slut-boy! Despite his painful shyness in public, the second I start clicking away he becomes a shameless exhibitionist. No matter how badly he burns to earn that f*****g, this can only be pure talent, latent transsexualism released at last or a delightful combination of the two. I take nearly a gigabyte of high quality shots of him shamelessly acting the hussy, and then set him a harder task.

“Okay, Slut-boy, that was great. You were truly born to be a c**k loving slut! Now I want you to learn to walk like one. Mince around, swing your hips, wiggle your butt and bat your eyes. Show me how you’d parade yourself on a street corner, or up on the auctioneer’s block!”

This takes him longer to master. His heels are so high, his legs so weak and his inner center so traumatized that it’s all he can do to stand up straight. But after a while he gets the hang of it, and by the time I’ve taken another hundred or so pictures I’m satisfied. It’s time for the greatest challenge – and most valuable blackmail lever – of all.

“Okay, Slut-boy. Good enough. Now come over here and kneel in front of me!”

With hesitation he does as instructed. Kneeling before me his tiny body is dwarfed by my towering form. He gazes up at me with the pure devotion and mindless adoration it sometimes takes me months to instill in a slut. Oh, he is so perfect! The perfect addition to my collection! Well, let’s just see how perfect...

“What are you, Slut-boy?”

“I am a she-male sissy slut, my Goddess, your eternal slave and subject,” he immediately declares.

“Yes you are,” I giggle, tickled at his mindlessly fawning subservience. When has it ever been this easy? “And sluts love c**k, don’t they? They crave it like life itself. You are going to prove this now!”

I see his eyes light up – is he finally going to be f****d? I take immense pleasure in shattering these preconceptions. I sink down into a chair, putting my big, black, up-jutting p***s on a level with his face. Then I give my orders and watch excitedly for his reaction.

“Suck my c**k, Slut-boy! Give me a blow-job worthy of an extensively experienced 10-dollar teenage hooker!”

Slut-boy doesn’t disappoint me. Despite his hilariously crestfallen expression it takes him only a moment to find his resolve. He swallows uneasily. Then determination fills his face. He leans forward, his pink-painted lips open and pursed, and takes me into his mouth. He lifts his gaze to mine, eager for some indication of favor. Instead he finds himself eye-to-eye with the stuttering shutter of my top of the line digital camera.

Click-click-click-click-click-click! I now have undeniable documentation of him sucking c**k like a slut. Slut-boy’s wounded doe-eyes widen even more, but then again he finds excitement in exhibitionism. He starts bobbing like a pro, taking the head of my hard-on and increasing lengths of its shaft deep inside. His face is again burning red, and by craning and peeking I see that his puny little p***s is unsurprisingly urgently upright.

Damn, I love this slut!