Becoming Herself

I am an online dominatrix – but not just any sort of domme. I take boys and turn them into cock sucking, silk wearing, cross-dressing femboy sluts. This story is about one such slut that I am proud to have call me Mistress. Of course, names have been changed to protect him or her as the case now stands.


Mistress stood there watching her next make-over walk in his door. She had talked to him for months online, and always wanted to make his fantasy of becoming a male fem slut come true. So… here she was standing in his livingroom and he had yet to notice her. Clearing her throat loud enough to make her presence known, a wide smile curled her lips as she saw his head jerk up and his wide eyes.

“Mistress…!” he cried and fell to his knees, everything else completely forgotten as his gaze lowered to the floor. Scott knew better than to stare up at his dark haired, Goddess of a Mistress, but he could not stop his gaze from lifting and traveling over her petite form. Swathed in some dark red material, silk maybe. Her dark hair was cut short to frame her face and her fierce green eyes stared back at him. He noticed the frown that curled her lips and quickly looked back to the floor.

As he looked away she couldn’t help but admire her handiwork. Granted, he was all male in his slacks, dress shirt and tie. But, just the way he responded to unspoken commands, showed her that the months spent with him online had cut her work in half. And… much to her surprise, he had obviously taken her advice and began to grow his hair long. She did not miss the slight tremble that went through that knelt male form and laughed softly.

“You laugh at my tremble Mistress? Forgive me, just having you here and knowing what is to come already has my ‘clitty’ so very hard.” His gaze still upon the floor as he spoke. Voice thicker than it had been before. Images of her taking control and dressing him like a naughty femme cum-slut played through his mind and made him moan softly. “Mistress, If I may be so bold, how long do you plan to grace me with your presence?”

She couldn’t help the coo that left her lips. “As long as I feel it is needed. Until I feel I have suffencently turned you into my ultimate masterpiece.” Mistress moved closer then and touched his shoulder, silently telling him kneeling wasn’t nessicary at this particular moment. Goodness, she couldn’t believe how willing he was to be transformed. This caused her to feel a warmth between her legs. Something she had always felt – even talking to him online. This was her ultimate fetish.

He stood then and smiled shyly. “A drink Mistress?” he asked the glorious lady before him. It really had surprised him just how easily he had fallen into this role, not to metion he was going to be a submissive to a very tiny, very petite lady, one he could very easily over power but he knew, without a doubt, he did not wish to. At her nod he disappeared into the kitchen.

Not missing the erection tenting out his slacks as he walked by, Mistress giggled and followed him into the kitchen, the sound of her stillettos clicking over the hardwood floor of his home. Stopping behind him and catching his hand as he reached in the refridgerator to pull out a pitcher of tea. She placed it over the throbbing need beneath his clothes. “Tell me slut… what do you want?” Her voice commanding yet gentle.

This was the perfect Mistress for him and he knew it. He was very much a novice at the whole submissive/Mistress thing, and she was nothing like an actual Mistress. She was commanding yet so very gentle with him. He heard the clicking of her high heels as she followed behind him. Then there was her touch. It was electric, taking his breath in a rush. Her hand guiding his to his bulging crotch. That voice. The words. The tone. It made him want to explode right there in his slacks. Struggling for a few seconds to find the voice that had left with his breath he whispered, “I want to stroke my she-cock for you.”

“Louder.” Her tone even firmer than before. Forcing him to curl his fingers more around himself. At least as much as was allowed through the material barrier. He was throbbing and she could feel the heat eminating from him just by this simple touch, in fact, she was barely touching him, his hand was doing most of it.

“I want to stroke my fucking she-cock for you!” He cried out louder, unconsiously falling back against her. Grateful that she didn’t step back when he did. His body was trembling fiercly, the cold air coming from the still open fridge made his nipples harder than tiny pebbles. “Oooh, please! Please Mistress, let me cum for you, now before this naughty slut becomes your femme boy.” His eyes half closed and his heart pounded. He hoped she didn’t turn him down.

Her fingers snapped the button of his slacks open in one simple gesture and let them fall to the floor. His breifs followed. She felt the cool air from the open fridge blowing over him and she purred. Taking his hand, she had dropped it to open his pants, and putting it back on himself. “Stroke that naughty cock…” Her hand fell away then and moved so she could watch him from the side, not wanting him to shut the fridge door.

His knees almost gave away when his pants fell away from his his heated flesh and she commanded him to stroke himself for her. From the corner of his eye he saw her. She was watching him so very closely. He was already dripping precum. Just having Mistress anywhere near him was enough to do that. His hand began to stroke… his other moving down to pull at his balls. “Fuck yes… Mistress my cock is so very hard, it can’t wait to feel all those femme clothes over it.” Stroking it faster, from base to head, tugging harder at his balls. “I want to touch my ass hole Mistress!” Forcing his eyes open to look at her.

She shook her head. “No. For now you will only stroke your cock.” Her own eyes half closed and a slight moan left her lips, she wanted to reach down and slide a finger in her aching pussy. But… she didn’t. Instead she kept her cool and continued to watch him masturbate for her.

He could have cried when she told him no, but he didn’t. Pulling hard at his own cock. Wincing at the pain but loving it. He liked to hurt his hardons, loved pain in small doses. It made him ache with even more pleasure. Harder, faster. Tugging balls more. More. They were filling quickly. His cock becoming even bigger. Throbbing. “OOooh Mistress!! I need to Cum!!” He had to stop or at least slow down or he would cum before the order was given. So he did the latter.

Hungry eyes watched the movement of his hand and the myrid of expressions that played over his face. His knees trembled, she knew he was close even before she heard his pleading request. For a minute she didn’t answer, instead watched the delicious torture that played in front of her. “Cum, cum for Mistress… show her how much cum that soon to be she-cock can give.” She commanded.

That minute she waited to answer seemed to stretch out for an eternity for him. Ooh God! He couldn’t wait. But he must. Then the order came, and he responded with an explosion of cum. “Mistress!”It flew up and covered the fridge door, his dress shirt and even a little on his cheek. Falling to the floor as his knees gave out in the sheer pleasure of it all.


Remember, please tell me what you think. I would love to write a second half.

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