Part 8 Petey Fresh Chance to Learn an Old Lesson
Author's note: apologies for the misdirection of the title. This is the conclusion to a story that got away from where I expected it go. So, the title no longer quite fits. This is not the ending I envisioned when I titled the story.
Between Noah and Ahn, the johns, and the occasional porn shoot, I have a busy, but truly happy sex-life. To an outside observer, the ease of my transition may seem strange; God knows, it does to me. But I came to understand: I had never been at peace with my body. Always shameful, it didn't work as it should for a man. Until Mistress and then Daddy, no one showed any interest, and that came from how I felt about it. I am much more comfortable with my body now—though eventually I want to fully transition, but that's up to Mistress.
Though she owns me, Marsha is not a true Domme. When she wants me disciplined, she has Ahn do it. We have very little direct sexual contact. She enjoys watching Ahn dominate me and sometimes having me placed in stress positions to watch her get fucked by Ahn, or just some man she's picked up. She used to peg me with a strap-on, but that proved disappointing to me unless followed by a real cock and to her for the similar reasons. But, again, she is not around much; so, even these are uncommon scenarios.
Ahn and I understand each other perfectly. If she were fully in charge, I would already be scheduled for the final surgeries (vaginoplasty and my facial feminization). But on this she has no say. Ahn knows when I need punishment and when I need pampering. She can be tender in her peculiar no-nonsense way and a heartless martinet, when I need it most.
Though I was jealous at first, Ahn and Noah's relationship is no longer a problem for me; I've watched them make love as a couple and had both of them fuck me as a couple. The resentment has been trained and fucked out of me. And, yet...
Sometimes, as hard as I work not to, I have momentary fits of petty jealousy. I couldn't say if I'm jealous of Noah for having her or the other way around. But sometimes I forget my place in the hierarchy; Ahn is great at sensing and curbing my slip-ups. But Noah, is more casual, and sometimes these feelings creep up on me and explode, without his notice.
When this occurs, I feel the most need and desire for discipline to be put in my place. My singular objective is always to be a good submissive slut for them. I understand we're in an asymmetrical relationship, but need to be reminded. Ahn recognizes this before it gets to be a problem. Noah forces me to beg, or worse to display disobedient and/or disastrous behavior, looking for true punishment. I think his feelings of guilt about working for Marsha cloud his ability to be an effective Dom to me. This led to a big tumult.
Besides direct sexual service, there are times when servitude goes beyond the sexual. Even dominants enjoy engaging in sexual exploration among equals, not just with sex-slaves, or sissy tranny whores, like me. Occasionally, they host orgies with like-minded acquaintances for the purpose. These usually involve couples of varying lifestyles and some submissives who serve not as sex objects, but as abject slaves as a demonstration of their power.
At one such event, in a rented playroom out in Queens, I was to serve as a urinal. Three other sex-slaves performed the same task. Each tied on two-by-two-foot plastic crates about eighteen inches off the ground discretely placed at the four corners of the playroom, heads immobilized by straps tilted slightly back, and mouth forced open by a gag with a funnel attached.
A metal frame stood next to the crate, holding up a funnel attached through a tube to an enema bulb buried in the sexslave's assholes. Our arms were tied to our sides at the elbow, keeping our hands out, holding out toilet paper and hand sanitizer. The ass end, with the frame and a toilet seat, was for the "ladies" and the mouth funnel for the "gents." We had to hold it in until scheduled bathroom breaks, to empty out.
Other slaves tended bar; Mary who I knew to be the property a friend of Ahn's, who titled himself "The Marquis," was at the bar strung up by her magnificent tits to the ceiling by cord on runners so she would tip-toe the ten foot length of the bar to serve the drinks. She was naked except for calf-length bondage boots. Sizable iron hooks poked through her enormous pierced nipples.
The guests totaled about twenty-four of varied genders; the champagne flowed freely so the urinals were kept busy the whole night. I was fine with the degradation; it was right up my alley. I had long ago become comfortable with swallowing piss and humiliation always turns me on. I didn't even mind the taste anymore.
The problem arose and was allowed to fester because Ahn wasn't there. She was out of town, and Noah brought Mrs. Dixon as his "date." Mr. Dixon was one of the other urinals. The fact that I had helped Daddy turn Mr. and Mrs. Dixon played on my mind, as I saw her mingle and chit-chat with the other guests. As though she weren't Noah's sex-slave just like me. My first critically bad thought was "why not me? Why couldn't I have the golden ticket?"
I, at least, had been married to Mistress before being turned, and somewhat "equal" partner. Why couldn't I enjoy a night of casual sex with strangers on a level-footing, for once? I managed to beat down these thoughts and focus on performing my assigned role to the best of my ability. I determined to focus, but my resolve was flagged.
I was barely holding it together, when Mrs. Dixon came over, pushed her naked ass onto the female urinal, and down it went, gravity rewarding me with her warm foamy piss filling my hole. I watched the level of the amber fluid slowly drain down the transparent tube and felt the subsequent filling of my hole. I didn't mind the act itself; the fresh piss was warm and comforting. She took the toilet paper from my hand, wiped herself, then flung the used paper toward the trashcan by me.
But she missed, and it landed over my left nipple. I could do nothing to remove it; she sneered at me with distaste, spat into the mouth funnel, as she sauntered away. I raged uselessly in my own head. If a dominant had done the same thing, I would have gladly accepted it as my fate, but I couldn't get over that her status and mine should be the same; if anything I should have seniority. I was seething and simultaneously trying to talk myself down.
"It doesn't matter who she is" I advised myself, "Daddy has put her in this role, and I should accept it with a glad heart, according to my training!" I repeated this as a mantra, as I waited for the next patron to feed me their piss at one or the other end.
Less than ten minutes later, Mistress came through the door with someone I, at first, only vaguely recognized, but could make out when they were much closer. It was my old college frenemy George. I was already struggling with my attitude, but when he inevitably came over, his significantly large cock in hand (I had no idea it was so big). Before the recent changes, I had always studiously avoided seeing men naked or them seeing me. And when I did see his, it was buried in wife's ass.
I was beyond any control. I felt frantic and sick to my stomach. Ahn would have sensed this instantly, if not, indeed, anticipated it beforehand and whipped it out of me. She would have whipped me hard the morning of and I would have the physical reminder to keep me grounded in my place.
But Daddy was not as good at foreseeing potential trouble. Had she not anticipated it, she would have checked-in to see that I was performing up to her standards. Noah more-or-less ignored me, as he paraded Mrs. Dixon around displaying her to his friends who would squeeze her gorgeous tits or feel between her legs, while she smiled and made moaning faces.
