Collar│Novel (Eng)

Chapter One – The Initiation of Submission

Saturday night had come around, and I was set for another night in. The weather was crap, so staying inside to read or get lost in my head seemed like the best plan. I’ve always had these secret kinks, kept under wraps for years, convincing myself they were nobody’s business but mine. I’d escape into this fantasy land in my head, where I’d meet all sorts of characters. As a guy in his prime, I found myself weirdly attracted to other men, not more than women, but there was something about a big dick that just did it for me. Maybe it was awe or something deeper. Just thinking about it would give me a half-chub.

My dirty daydreams were interrupted by my phone buzzing. I had been fantasizing about Mr. Mark for a while now, this older friend of my mom’s who was supposed to be out with her boyfriend this weekend. In my head, he’d taken me countless times, secret from my mom, turning into this daily craving. And there he was, calling me.

“Hey, Nick. I just talked to your mom. She’s off with Mr. Sean for the week. I thought you shouldn’t be alone.”

In my fantasies, everything flows perfectly, but here I was, mouth dry, no words coming out. Mark must’ve noticed because he made the chat light, helping me chill out. We talked, laughed, and he’d slip in these suggestive comments.

“You’ve got to cut her some slack. She’s back in love, and Sean’s been keeping her busy. She can barely walk, haven’t you noticed?”

His words should’ve been offensive, but they just riled me up more. Mark could tell from the way I was breathing.

“From your silence, I get two vibes. One, you’re embarrassed, which I hope isn’t true. Two,” he teased, “you’re getting hard just thinking about it, which would make me very happy. You want me happy, don’t you?” His voice was playful. I couldn’t help but smile, caught in the moment’s erotic haze. “Yeah,” I admitted.

“Great. I’ll be there to pick you up. Take a shower to cool off, get dressed, and I’ll honk when I’m outside. We’ll call your mom on the way.”

That’s how it went down. After my shower, I jumped into his car. He greeted me, and off we went to somewhere I had no clue about. His eyes were on me the whole time, sizing me up. Suddenly, the clink of something metal snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Oh, I think I dropped my ring. It’s probably under my seat. Can you grab it for me?” he asked. I couldn’t say no.

Leaning over from his side, his scent hit me like a truck. His pants were tight around his bulge.

“Let me help you,” he said, unzipping and releasing his cock. Without even asking, he pushed it into my mouth, going deeper and deeper.

My spit was everywhere now. The sounds from my mouth and stomach were loud. Then, in the quiet of the car, a voice was waiting on the line. Mark had called someone while I was down there.

“How’s it going?”

“Just like we planned,” came an unknown voice, but not completely foreign.

“Is she on it? Like we said?”

“Yep, she’s mouth full, can’t talk.”

“Make her say hi with her mouth full!”

From the background, a struggle to speak, mixed with gagging and saliva.

“Hello,” came a familiar female voice. No way… it was her! Suddenly, I knew who the other guy was. Panic set in… worried she’d spill the beans to…

“Won’t you say hi to her too?” Mark asked. “Like she did, you should do the same.”

“Good…” before I could finish, he thrust in hard, catching me mid-breath, making me gag. Laughter echoed from the other end, from Sean.

“He wrecked his throat. You two won’t be able to talk tomorrow,” Sean chuckled.

“Tomorrow, we’ll plan another getaway,” Mark said.

“No need to plan,” Sean replied. “You’re coming with us. The villa’s big enough for everyone.”

“Sean, … I’m ready. How about you?”

“I’ve been holding. Waiting on you to fill her mouth.”

“…Now!” In unison, they came, filling the mouths they were using.

“Swallow it all, don’t think, just gulp it down quickly! That’s the trick,” Mark told me. I complied, my mind blank, serving only his lust.

Chapter Two – The Collar of Submission

The truth was, as we headed back home, I was terrified by the idea. Who would say what? How would I face her? My mind was racing without end. As we left the car behind, Mr. Mark grabbed me by the neck, guiding me in a way that was both literal and symbolic. I used my keys to open the door, and once inside, I realized we weren’t alone. Mr. Sean was waiting in the living room, with her sitting on his lap. An image that would stick with me for a long time. Her gaze was lowered, calm, undisturbed… so much so that this calmness spread to me without her saying a word.

Mr. Mark, making himself at home, sat in the armchair.

“Sit here, next to me. Opposite to Elizabeth.” His voice was a command. I knelt down, resting my knees on the floor. He continued in a steady voice, “This might be a new world for you, young man, but it’s not new for Mr. Sean or his sex slave. In this space, there are two ruling forces: the Dominants and the Submissives. You and the Lady of the house, you both belong to the latter. As you’ve probably figured out by now, you feel more comfortable when someone tells you what to do. Mr. Sean and I have already discussed this, and tomorrow morning, we start this magical journey.”

The next morning, with nothing more than a “good morning” exchanged, we locked the car doors and set off on our trip. In the back seat, it was me and Mr. Mark; upfront, Mr. Sean and Elizabeth.

As we settled into the back of the luxurious SUV, Mr. Mark’s voice was stern yet filled with an erotic edge. “From now on, you will address her as ‘Mistress E’,” he instructed, his gaze piercing through me. “It’s time you learned respect and obedience in this new dynamic.” Mr. Sean nodded in agreement, his hand resting possessively on her thigh. “Yes, call her Mistress E. It’s only fitting for her new role in our little world,” he added, a smirk playing on his lips. The air was thick with the shift in power, and I knew that from this moment, everything had changed.

Mistress E was always someone of noble descent, never giving away her sexual preferences. Even when she split from my dad, she didn’t offer explanations beyond the cliché, “we weren’t a match.” She always exuded a certain power, giving off the vibe of a woman who enjoyed being in control… and now, here she was, wearing a collar, in the passenger seat.

“I think we should get one for you too,” Mr. Mark said, noticing my gaze locked on the accessory around her neck.

“What do you mean? Who are you talking to?” Mistress E asked.

“Junior, was staring at your collar. Looks like he’s still processing it.”

“I think it would be a good idea, when we reach our destination, to go shopping. Don’t you think, darling?”

“Absolutely, Alpha!” she replied with disarming directness and a broad smile, as if there was no reason for embarrassment inside this car. As if she wasn’t herself!

At our next stop, we got out of the car and took a walk to a café. At a small market nearby, Mr. Sean spotted a pet shop corner and quickly called Mistress E over.

“What do you think? Would these work for him?” he asked, showing her two collars of different sizes.

“Darling, come here, I need you,” she called out to me. I obeyed without thinking, approaching them.

“Let’s see which one fits you better.”

“In front of everyone?”

“In front of everyone! It’s part of the training. It’ll help you embrace your submissive role and stand proudly by your Alpha.”

While they put the collar on me, Mr. Sean and Mr. Mark flanked me, blocking any view from passersby. This gave me a sense that they knew exactly what they were doing. I felt a justified trust. The next sensation was suffocating.

“No, I think it’s too tight, it doesn’t suit him,” Mistress E remarked.

“I agree. Try the black one,” said Mr. Mark.

“Yes, much better!” commented Mr. Sean. “You’ve got it. Wear it well!”

Leaving the café, we returned to the luxurious SUV and continued our journey.

“You know, my dear, there’s a ritual we’ve thought about. Symbolically, this collar should be worn when you’re in service,” Mr. Mark explained. Agreeing fully with him, Mr. Mark, without hesitation, pulled out his large tool from his trousers.

“Come here, sweetheart. Don’t be shy. Take it in your mouth,” Mr. Mark said, pulling my head by the neck.

“And you come here! Don’t embarrass Junior!” Mr. Sean told Mistress E, pressing her head between his legs while he drove. The two men’s breathing changed, growing heavier. Male moans started to fill the car, gradually.

“Now’s the moment,” Mr. Sean whispered to Mistress E. “Put the collar on him!” Mistress E withdrew her lips from Mr. Sean’s organ and leaned over me while I was choked by Mr. Mark’s cock. She carefully put the collar around my neck and tied it at the back.

“Hold his hand. I’ll fill him soon,” said Mr. Mark.

“Do it,” agreed Mr. Sean from afar.

Without any visual of my surroundings, I felt her hand take mine. She squeezed it meaningfully, as if giving me courage and strength to swallow my Alpha’s cum, to make him enjoy his journey.

“It’s coming…” came a deep voice from within him. “I’m filling him… hold him steady!” Mr. Mark began to fill my insides with his hot, thick liquid. My eyes watered, and I felt my nose running. At first, I thought it was from the pressure, but then I realized there was so much cum that it was coming out of my nose too! I was shocked when I realized this, but everyone in the car explained that some men come very hard and fast. Therefore, from now on, I should be at peace with this energy. After Mistress E cleaned me up, the Alphas got dressed, and we continued our journey, like any normal group.

Chapter Three – The First Drink

Once we settled into the villa, that night we dined at a luxurious restaurant. During dinner, we delved deeper into the nuances of the lifestyle, something I had never explored in such detail before. It felt like this was defining, yet I was deeply in the dark. It was more like a personal performance, a small erotic troupe where actors donned characters without a script, but within a strict framework. A unique game that allowed me to taste a socially extreme side. Delicious, indeed!

Mistress E explained to me from her perspective the intricacies of my role. She spoke to me more like a friend, unconcerned about the opinion I might form of her, rather than as a m0ther.

To confirm everything, the Alphas ordered for us, deciding what we would eat. They chose something very light for both of us, no dessert.

“We want you to have light stomachs for the rest of the evening,” Mr. Sean said, giving Mistress E a mischievous look. She, in turn, looked back at me, squeezing my hand.

“We’ve got it,” she said to both of them, her eyes never leaving mine.

Later, back at the villa, Mr. Sean spoke commandingly to her.

“Take him to the bathroom to get ready. We’ll join you shortly. Let’s have one more drink in the living room.”

Mistress E took my hand with a smile, leading me to the bathroom. She pulled out a cage and a plug from her bag, setting them on the sink. “Fill the bath to the top, darling,” she instructed. She stripped, revealing a stunning piece of lingerie beneath her clothes.

“Come on, get undressed. They’ll be here soon! Don’t let them see you like this.”

I followed her command, stripping down mechanically.

“We have some time. I understand you’ve never shaved back there, but from now on, you must always be groomed. An Alpha wants you ready to serve his needs. I’ll shave you this time, but you need to learn to do it well on your own.” With those words, she turned me around and began to shave my anal area with care and reverence.

When the men entered naked, they found us in this position.

Mr. Mark took the plug, using the shaving foam as lube, and inserted it inside me. It felt strange yet right, filling me. Then Mr. Sean took over.

“Given the presence of Mistress E, it’s fitting for her to symbolically lock you up. She brought you into this world; she should also define your orientation. My dear, will you do us the honor?”

“Certainly!” Mistress E replied without hesitation. She took the cage, seating me in front of her with my legs open.

“Now, my love, I don’t want you to feel any pain. To achieve this, you must listen to me and do as I say. Yes?”

“Yes,” I answered, sharp and sure.

“Good. Keep your cock soft, let it hang. Don’t think of anything arousing.” As she put the cage on, she continued, “This way, we’ll channel your urges from the front to the back.” Turning to the Alphas, she asked, “Did you both drank, as much as you could? You all good?”

“Two bottles each,” Mr. Sean answered.

“Perfect!” Mistress E exclaimed.

“Two bottles…?” I asked, curious.

“Yes, sweetheart. Two bottles of water each. That’s roughly how much you’ll drink too,” Mistress E clarified.

“Let’s get into position,” Mr. Sean said quietly and teasingly.

Mistress E positioned me in the huge bathtub, sitting behind me. She guided my hands to hold the cage firmly. Mr. Mark stood in front of me.

“Open up and take it in,” he instructed.

Even without an erection, I wanted to show my obedience and usefulness. I opened my mouth, taking him in, licking with passion and eagerness, especially feeling Mistress E behind me.

“He’s getting close,” Mr. Mark announced.

“Now, be strong and decisive. Don’t hesitate for a moment. Mistress E is here to support and give you courage. Don’t disappoint your Alpha. Don’t think, just take big gulps without thought. That’s the secret,” Mr. Sean said, standing beside him.

Mistress E embraced my head, locking it in place. She whispered in my ear, “This is how things are. Don’t be scared; I’m here! I won’t let you go.”

“He’s coming, he’s coming!” Mr. Mark exclaimed.

A sudden burst of urine forced me to swallow the first wave without fully realizing what I was doing. It was Mr. Mark’s technique to make the submissive swallow the initial surge almost involuntarily.

“Gulp it down fast without a thought, my pet. Drink it like you’re parched, let it bloat that belly of yours,” Mistress E purred into my ear.

The metallic taste and texture filled my mouth, spilling over me.

“No, no! You’ve got it! Come on, all in your stomach! Let’s go,” Mr. Mark yelled.

My stomach now made sounds of protest.

“Come on, my darling, you’re performing beautifully! If you feel queasy, hold it back. You must not spill a drop.”

After Mr. Mark finished, he carefully withdrew. I felt vomit rising when Mistress E lifted my head, holding my neck.

“Keep it in… keep it all in. We didn’t slave over you for nothing… you can do this, my pet. Soothe that belly of yours and soak up your Alpha’s essence. You’ve been a good little toy. I’ll give you some Coke to calm you down, but I’ve got to take my turn now. Wait for me…” With those words, Mistress E slipped under Mr. Sean, who started to pour his golden stream into her. With practiced ease, she gulped down everything he had to give, guiding my hand to her stomach to demonstrate her mastery. No retching, no gagging, just pure submission. She then rested her hand on my roiling gut, silently acknowledging the turmoil within… but promising I’d get the hang of it.

Mr. Mark then withdrew the plug, aligning his thick tool with my waiting entrance. Mr. Sean stood beside Mistress E.

“Slowly…!” she commanded Mr. Mark. “His belly’s too tender. Everything needs to stay inside.”

“I know, darling. Don’t fret. I’ll take good care of your little plaything.” With that, he eased into me, reconfiguring my insides. I was now his to command. After a while, I heard his breath hitch, “I can’t hold back, I’m flooding him!” he announced to Mistress E.

“Fill us both. Drain yourselves inside!” Mistress E demanded. The two Alphas, in perfect sync once again, groaned deeply, flooding their obedient containers with their pleasure.

Once she regained her breath, Mistress E helped me to my feet, and we made our way to the kitchen. She handed me a Coke, urging me to drink it all. “This will keep you from puking. It’s crucial to keep every drop inside. The Alphas will pamper you even more if you perform as expected.”

I took her advice, and instantly felt relief.

“Now, off to the bedroom, snuggle up with your Alpha, and I’ll do the same with mine. They want to cuddle us before we drift off…”

Chapter Four – The Preparation

In the exclusive, shadowy corners of the BDSM world, there lies an elite club known for its opulence, its secrecy, and its members’ insatiable appetites for the forbidden. This isn’t just any gathering; it’s where the creme de la creme of the kink community come to test their limits, explore their darkest desires, and indulge in the kind of power games that could make even the most seasoned player blush.

The Alphas, with their chiseled confidence and eyes that speak of untold secrets, have been whispering in the ears of Nick and Mistresses E about this sanctuary of sin. They paint a picture of a place where the walls are lined with velvet and the air is thick with the scent of leather and lust. Here, they say, the elite don’t just play; they orchestrate symphonies of submission that echo through the halls of privilege.

“Imagine,” they drawl, their voices dripping with the promise of pleasure and power, “a world where your desires are not just accepted but celebrated. Where every whip, every chain, every whispered command is a testament to your worth in our circle.”

They tell Nick and Mistresses E that participation in this auction isn’t merely about sex or submission; it’s about social ascension. “Join us,” they tempt, “and you won’t just be playing the game; you’ll be mastering it. The members here look after each other, elevate each other. Your new life could start here, with every kneel, every lick, every moan a step up the ladder of influence.”

The Alphas describe the members as the architects of their own destinies, people of wealth, power, and a certain kind of twisted sophistication. They mention names, dropping them like they’re the keys to a kingdom of carnal delights: lawyers, politicians, artists, all bound by the same chains of desire.

“Here, your submission is your currency,” they explain, their eyes gleaming with the knowledge of the dark corners where one can truly shine. “And trust us, the rewards are more than just physical. They’re social, financial, a new chapter in your life where you’re not just someone’s plaything but a player in the grand game.”

As they lay out the vision, it’s clear this is no mere club; it’s a society where the boundaries of pleasure and power blur into one intoxicating dance. The promise is not just of an auction but of a transformation, where Nick and his guardian could rise from the shadows into the spotlight of an elite subculture where every act of submission is a stroke of genius, a step towards a new, uncharted life.

The days leading up to the event were a blur of excitement and anticipation for Nick and his guardian. The Alphas’ promises had ignited something within them, a hunger for the unknown, a thirst for the kind of power that comes from surrender. They were ready, eager even, to dive into this world where their deepest desires could flourish under the watchful gaze of the elite.

As they approached the villa, the grandeur of the place took their breath away. It was like stepping into another realm, where the usual rules of society didn’t apply. The host, a figure of mystery and authority, welcomed them with a knowing smile that promised both pleasure and pain in equal measure.

They were ushered into a room that screamed opulence yet whispered of dark secrets. Here, in this chamber of consent, they sat across from the host, who laid out the contract before them. The document was more than just paper; it was a map to their new identities, their new lives.

“This,” the host began, his voice smooth as silk, “is your gateway to a realm where your submission is your strength. Every clause here is a promise, not just of what you’ll endure, but of what you’ll gain.” He explained each term with a seductive clarity, making it clear that this was more than a game; it was a pact with pleasure itself.

Nick and his guardian listened, their eyes reflecting a mix of fear and fascination. They nodded, understanding that this was their chance to be part of something extraordinary, where every act of submission could be a step towards something greater. With pens in hand, they signed their names, sealing their fates in ink.

The host’s smile widened as he witnessed their commitment. “Welcome,” he murmured, his voice now laced with a hint of possession. “Let me show you your new world.”

He led them through the villa, each room revealing more about the dark elegance of this place. There was the chamber where the auctions would take place, its walls adorned with art that depicted scenes of dominance and submission. The bedrooms, each uniquely styled to cater to different fantasies, hinted at the nights of exploration that awaited them.

In one room, a figure who could only be Elizabeth, though not explicitly named as such, was seen arranging items that spoke of control and care in equal measure. She glanced at Nick with a knowing look, the kind that said, “This is where you learn to fly.”

As they toured, the host pointed out the various spaces where they could lose themselves or find themselves anew. “Here, every touch, every command, is a lesson in power,” he explained, his words a seductive promise of what was to come.

The tour ended back at the auction hall, where the stage was set for their transformation. “You’ve signed more than just a contract; you’ve signed onto a journey,” the host concluded, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of the game about to be played.

And so, with the villa now their playground, Nick and his guardian stood on the precipice of a new life, where every choice was a dance between submission and sovereignty.

As they left the villa, the weight of the contract seemed to settle more firmly upon them, each step back to the car a step into their new reality. The four of them—Nick, Mistress E, Mr. Sean, and Mr. Mark—piled into the vehicle, the air inside thick with the scent of leather seats and the unspoken tension of what they had just committed to.

Mr. Sean, ever the pragmatist, broke the silence first. “The safewords,” he began, his voice steady, “are crucial. ‘Red’ stops everything, no questions asked. ‘Yellow’ means slow down, we need to check in. It’s imperative you both remember this.”

Nick’s guardian nodded, her eyes reflecting a mix of resolve and curiosity. “And the boundaries,” she added, “we’ve set them, but they’re there to be respected. If something feels off, we use our voices.”

Mr. Mark, whose dominant nature had always been a guiding force for Nick, leaned forward, his eyes meeting Nick’s in the rearview mirror. “Your boundaries are your shield, Nick. They’re what keep this from becoming just another game. You have the right to say no, to draw lines where you need them.”

Nick swallowed, the reality of his new life starting to sink in. “I understand,” he said softly, the weight of his consent, now formalized, pressing on him like a cloak. “But what about… the public aspect? The auction?”

“The auction,” Mr. Sean replied, “is where your submission becomes a spectacle, but remember, it’s a controlled environment. You’ll be under the watch of those who understand the game, who respect the rules we’ve set.”

His guardian squeezed his hand, offering silent support. “We’re in this together,” she murmured. “We’ll navigate this new world, make sure our limits are clear. And if something doesn’t feel right, we’ll use our safewords.”

Mr. Mark’s gaze was intense. “And don’t forget, the aftercare. After each session, after the auction, we ensure you’re okay, mentally and physically. That’s part of the contract too.”

The car moved through the night, each turn bringing them closer to their everyday lives but also deeper into the life they had just agreed to. They discussed the nuances of consent, how it would be checked and rechecked, how every participant would be briefed on their limits. They talked about the importance of communication, not just between them but with everyone they would encounter in this elite circle.

As the conversation flowed, it was clear this wasn’t just about signing a piece of paper; it was about committing to a journey where trust, respect, and mutual desire were the cornerstones of their new existence. They were not just participants in this world; they were now part of its very fabric, bound by a contract that promised both pleasure and empowerment, as long as they held onto their agency with both hands.

The evening began with the meticulous preparation, a ritual of transformation. Elizabeth, with a practiced hand and an eye for detail, dressed Nick in the new lingerie set they had bought for this very occasion. The fabric was sheer, delicate, and undeniably feminine; it hugged his form in a way that highlighted every curve, making him feel both vulnerable and empowered. His guardian, too, donned a matching set, their outfits a testament to their unity in this dance of submission.

Upon arriving at the villa, they were met with an atmosphere thick with anticipation. Familiar faces from the BDSM community were there, shrouded in capes, their identities concealed behind masks for privacy and discretion. The air was charged with whispers and the rustle of silk as the guests mingled, their eyes gleaming behind their disguises.

The organizer, a figure of authority and elegance, called the guests to the central hall where the auction would take place. The room was grand, lit with a soft, golden light that cast long shadows, enhancing the drama of the night.

The auction started with a few submissives, each one a spectacle of beauty and obedience, presented to the crowd. There were also some specialized kinks showcased, like bulls for cuckold couples, whose presence alone stirred excitement among the attendees. However, everyone knew the main event was yet to come.

Finally, it was Nick and Elizabeth’s turn. The organizer took them by the hand, leading them onto the dais, the stage where they would be offered to the highest bidder. He began to speak, his voice echoing through the room, recounting their journey, the depths of submission they had explored together.

“Here we have a duo,” he announced, his words painting pictures in the minds of the audience, “who have danced with the chains of desire, tasted the bitter tang of power exchange. They’ve indulged in acts of utter surrender, even to the point of urophagia, a testament to their dedication to the art of submission.”

The crowd erupted in applause, some even letting out low, appreciative whistles as they watched the pair. The room was alive with lust; a few guests couldn’t help but touch themselves, the erotic charge of the narrative too potent to ignore.

Elizabeth stood beside Nick, her presence both protective and provocative, her eyes scanning the crowd with a mix of pride and challenge. Nick, under the spotlight, felt the weight of every gaze, his outfit a silent declaration of his readiness to explore further into this world of controlled chaos.

The bids started to rise, each one a step further into their new reality, each number a promise of experiences yet to come. The auction was not just about the exchange of money; it was about the exchange of power, control, and the unspoken agreement of mutual pleasure and respect.

Amidst the fervor of the auction, a figure cloaked in an aura of mystery and command stepped forward, their bid slicing through the air with precision. This Dominant, whose identity remained concealed behind a mask that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, had been watching Nick and Elizabeth with an intensity that spoke of deep interest in their unique dynamic.

With a voice that carried both authority and allure, they announced, “I will take them, with one stipulation.” The room fell into a hush, the collective breath of the attendees held in anticipation. “I want him,” they pointed at Nick, “to fully embrace his feminine side during our time together. It’s the guardian-son connection, intertwined with this transformation, that captivates me.”

The condition was laid bare, like a challenge thrown down in the midst of this sophisticated game of desires. The bid was accepted, not just for the monetary value, but for the promise of the narrative this Dominant was eager to explore. It wasn’t merely about owning; it was about crafting a story, one where Nick would step into a role that stretched his boundaries, where his submission would be as much about self-discovery as it was about pleasing his new master.

Elizabeth’s eyes met Nick’s, a silent conversation passing between them. There was an understanding, a nod of acceptance. This wasn’t just about the auction; it was about evolution, about pushing the envelope of what they had known their dynamic to be. Nick, feeling the eyes of the room upon him, felt a mix of trepidation and excitement. The idea of diving deeper into femininity was both daunting and exhilarating, a new chapter in his journey of submission.

The Dominant, satisfied with the terms, sealed the deal with an air of finality. “Then it’s settled,” they said, their tone leaving no room for doubt or negotiation. “He will learn the art of being not just a submissive, but a canvas on which we paint the most intimate expressions of gender and power.”

The crowd murmured, some with envy, others with curiosity, but all were united in the recognition that they had just witnessed something rare. This wasn’t just a transaction; it was an invitation to a journey where Nick would explore a new identity under the guidance of someone who clearly understood the profound layers of submission. The auction might have concluded, but for Nick and Elizabeth, the real performance was just beginning.

After the auction, Elizabeth and Nick settled into the villa, their new home for the duration of this transformative journey. The Dominant, whose presence now loomed over their lives like a constant reminder of their new roles, visited daily. His oversight was both a guide and a test, ensuring that Nick’s metamorphosis into his more feminine self was both thorough and pleasing.

Elizabeth, acting as both mentor and guardian, took Nick through a rigorous training program designed to mold him into the image the Dominant desired. She started with the basics of demeanor and appearance. Nick learned to sit delicately, his posture always poised, legs crossed at the knees. “Remember,” Elizabeth instructed, “every movement is an expression of your submission.”

His wardrobe was transformed, consisting only of clothing that accentuated his femininity. Lace, silk, and pastel colors became his new palette. Elizabeth also introduced him to a regimen of feminine fragrances, teaching him that scent was an integral part of his new identity.

Grooming was non-negotiable. Daily routines included full body hair removal, ensuring Nick was smooth everywhere, especially in areas like his back and intimate parts, where the Dominant expected accessibility and readiness. “You must be prepared at all times,” Elizabeth would remind him, ensuring he understood the importance of this new standard of beauty and availability.

The pivotal moment of their training came when the Dominant instructed Elizabeth to introduce Nick to a cock cage. The device was a symbol of control, of ownership over his sexuality. Elizabeth approached the task with care, explaining each step to Nick, whose nervousness was palpable.

“We need to ensure you’re comfortable with this,” she said, her voice soothing yet firm. She showed him the cage, a sleek, steel contraption designed to restrict and encase. With gentle hands, she applied lubricant to ensure no harm would come to him, then carefully positioned the device. Nick felt the cold metal against his skin, a stark reminder of his new status. She locked it with a small, ornate key, which she then handed over to the Dominant, who watched the entire process with an approving gaze.

“This,” the Dominant said, his voice a mix of command and satisfaction, “is a reminder of your place, of your submission to me.”

With the cage in place, the Dominant turned his attention to Elizabeth, pulling her close in front of Nick. “Now,” he commanded, “I want you to show him how to please me indirectly.”

Under his watchful eyes, Elizabeth began to manipulate a device, a sleek, vibrating toy designed for pleasure. With deliberate movements, she used it on herself, her actions both a lesson and a display for Nick. The Dominant’s eyes never left the scene, his approval clear.

“Make her finish with it,” he told Nick, who, still adjusting to the cage, watched with a mix of awe and arousal as Elizabeth brought herself to climax using the device. The act was as much about teaching Nick his new role in their dynamic as it was about demonstrating the control the Dominant now had over both.

This was just the beginning of their trials, each one designed to deepen Nick’s understanding of submission, femininity, and the complex web of pleasure and power they were now navigating together under the Dominant’s rule.

With the air still charged from the previous demonstration, the Dominant turned his full attention to Elizabeth. His movements were deliberate, his dominance palpable as he positioned her, preparing for what would be a clear display of power. In front of Nick, whose cage now felt like a tighter bond than ever, the Dominant began to take Elizabeth with a force that was both commanding and unapologetic.

Elizabeth, caught between pleasure and the intensity of the moment, responded with fervor, her moans filling the room, her body reacting to each thrust. Nick watched, his own arousal trapped, a silent witness to their intimacy that was both a punishment and a lesson in his new role.

As the Dominant drove Elizabeth to the peak of her ecstasy, his own climax followed, filling her with a finality that marked the end of one act but the beginning of another for Nick. The power dynamic shifted dramatically; Elizabeth, now sated and empowered by her own pleasure, turned to Nick with a sharpness that was new to their interactions.

“Clean us,” she ordered, her voice laced with an edge that hadn’t been there before. Her command was not just for cleanliness but was a test of Nick’s submission, his willingness to serve in every aspect.

Nick, still locked in his cage, knelt before them. The taste of their combined essence was both a degradation and an act of service, sealing his role in this new hierarchy. His tongue moved with a mix of reluctance and obedience, servicing the Dominant first, then Elizabeth, who watched him with a critical eye, her demeanor hardened by the act they had just shared.

This act of cleaning was more than physical; it was a psychological journey for Nick, a moment where his submission was not just physical but deeply internalized. The Dominant, observing, knew that this was a crucial step in reshaping Nick’s understanding of his place in their world.

The taste of submission, of being the last link in this chain of power, was now part of Nick’s daily reality. Each lick was a reminder of control, of his new identity, and of the complex web of pleasure, pain, and obedience he was now woven into.

The Dominant, always seeking to push boundaries and test the limits of Nick’s submission, orchestrated a particularly cruel scenario. He invited a former school bully of Nick’s to the villa, a figure from Nick’s past who had once held power over him in a very different, more overt form of dominance.

When the bully arrived, the atmosphere in the villa took on a new kind of tension. Nick, already dressed in lace and satin, his femininity accentuated by makeup and perfume, felt a surge of vulnerability, the past and present colliding in a way that was both humiliating and oddly liberating.

The Dominant, with a voice that carried both authority and a hint of malice, introduced the situation. “Today,” he began, his eyes flicking between Nick and the bully, “we revisit old dynamics but with new rules.”

He positioned Nick’s guardian in the center of the room, her role in this scene both passive and pivotal. She was instructed to submit to the bully, an act that would not only challenge her but also force Nick to confront his own feelings of powerlessness and control in this new light.

The bully, now a man but still carrying the aura of his teenage aggression, approached Nick’s guardian. The Dominant watched, his gaze intense, ensuring every moment was a lesson for Nick. “Watch,” he whispered to Nick, his hand resting on Nick’s shoulder, a reminder of who truly held the reins now.

Nick’s guardian, understanding her part in this complex play of power, complied. The act was raw, filled with a mix of consent and the unspoken acknowledgment of their roles in this game. The bully, now enjoying a different kind of dominance, was rough, his actions a stark contrast to the refined control of the Dominant.

Nick was forced to watch, his feminine attire feeling like both a shield and a chain. Each thrust from the bully was a reminder of past humiliations, but now, it was under the watchful eye of the Dominant, who turned this into a moment of education rather than mere cruelty.

The Dominant leaned close to Nick, his voice low. “You see, power can change hands, but the lesson is in how we wield it. Your submission here is your strength. It’s about control, about understanding who you are now.”

The scene was intense, the sounds of the act filling the room, the visual stark against Nick’s internal struggle. His guardian, though submitting, maintained a dignity in her submission, her eyes occasionally meeting Nick’s, a silent communication of shared endurance and understanding of the game they were playing.

Afterward, the Dominant praised both Nick and his guardian for their roles, reinforcing the idea that every act of submission was a choice, a step in their journey of self-discovery and mutual consent. The bully left, his part in this lesson fading into the background, but the impact on Nick was profound, reshaping his understanding of power, submission, and the complex layers of his identity under the Dominant’s tutelage.

In another twist of their ongoing saga of submission and control, Elizabeth decided to test Nick in a way that combined deception with a harsh lesson in humility. With a sly grin, she prepared Nick’s tea, but this was no ordinary brew. She had sneakily added an ice cube made of urine to his cup, watching with a concealed smirk as he drank, unaware of the bitter secret.

When Nick finished his tea, Elizabeth couldn’t contain her laughter any longer. Her giggles were sharp, edged with mockery. “You’ve just had something special in your tea,” she taunted, revealing the nature of his drink. The shock on Nick’s face was palpable, a mix of betrayal and the realization of how far he had come in his journey of submission.

With a blend of sweetness and sarcasm in her voice, she then commanded, “Take it out, let’s see how much this has affected you.” Nick, still processing the revelation, complied, releasing his penis from its cage. The air was thick with the tension of this new humiliation.

As he began to touch himself, Elizabeth’s voice was a mix of honey and venom. “Look at that, so small, so eager to please even after such a trick,” she teased, her words playing on his insecurities, making the act of self-pleasure in front of her a further test of his submission.

But the final revelation was the most shocking. “And the food you’ve been eating,” she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “it’s been laced with hormones. To help you along your transformation.” The implications of this were monumental; it wasn’t just about temporary humiliation but about a permanent change in his physical self.

With this bombshell, she set a challenge, her tone suddenly serious. “You have fifteen seconds to finish, or you stop immediately.” The pressure was immense, but the conditioning of his new life, the submission, the control over his own body, all came to a head. Nick, driven by the need to obey, managed to bring himself to climax within the tight deadline, his body responding to the harsh reality of his situation.

Elizabeth watched with a critical eye, then, with a dismissive wave of her hand, instructed, “Now, gather your soiled panties and return to our room.” Her command was clear; the lesson wasn’t just in the act but in the aftermath, in the carrying of his shame back to the sanctity of their shared space.

Nick, his dignity stripped away once more, complied, the dampness of his underwear a physical reminder of the psychological games they played. This was not just about control; it was about reshaping identity, testing loyalty, and pushing the boundaries of what Nick thought he could endure. Each step back to the room was a step further into his new reality, under Elizabeth’s manipulative yet guiding hand.

Elizabeth had fully embraced her role, her previous self almost unrecognizable under the weight of her new authority. She was no longer just a guide but a matriarch, steering Nick into the depths of his transformation with a mix of sternness and twisted affection.

The next trial was waiting in the wings, a test of Nick’s adaptation to his new identity, one that would push the boundaries of his physical and psychological submission. Together with the Dominant, they informed Nick of his latest lesson: he was to learn to urinate like a girl.

With Elizabeth’s guidance, they moved to the bathroom, where the Dominant took a leading role in this final act of submission. With a mixture of care and dominance, he positioned Nick, preparing him for what was to come. Elizabeth watched, her eyes a mix of pride and command, as the Dominant took Nick from behind, an act that was both invasive and intimate.

The Dominant, with his usual precision, entered Nick, the act a stark reminder of who was in control. After the physical dominance was established, he urinated inside Nick, an act meant to further imprint the lesson of control and feminization. This was not just about physical sensation but about the psychological impact, about making Nick feel the full extent of his new role.

Once completed, Elizabeth, with an air of strict guidance, led Nick to the toilet. “Sit,” she commanded, her voice firm yet with an underlying tone of care. Nick complied, his body still echoing with the sensations of what had just occurred, now attempting to urinate in a way that was foreign yet part of his new reality.

He sat, his posture awkward at first, trying to let go of his urine from this position. Elizabeth stood by, her presence both comforting and commanding, ensuring he did it correctly. “You must learn this,” she whispered, her tone a blend of encouragement and insistence.

As Nick managed to urinate, the sense of accomplishment was overshadowed by the feeling of being watched, of being molded into something new. Elizabeth, in the embrace of the Dominant, watched with a critical eye, her expression one of satisfaction at how far Nick had come under their tutelage. They were not just changing his habits; they were reshaping his very identity, teaching him in the most visceral way how to live within the confines of his new, feminine self.

This moment was a culmination, a clear demonstration of how deeply Nick had been drawn into their world, where every act of submission was a step towards a new self, one defined by the Dominant and Elizabeth, in a dance of power, humiliation, and transformation.

In another test of Nick’s transformation, a psychologist was brought into the villa, her presence a tool for further breaking down any remaining vestiges of his masculine identity. Nick, dressed in feminine attire alongside his mother, sat in a secluded lounge, away from prying eyes, ready for this psychological exploration.

The psychologist, with a professional yet probing demeanor, began her session by addressing Elizabeth first. “How does it feel to embrace the role of a woman?” she asked, her voice calm but incisive. Elizabeth, now fully in her new identity, responded with an uncharacteristic openness. “It’s liberating, empowering. To feel sexy, to be desired in this way, it’s intoxicating.”

The psychologist turned her attention to Nick, her questions designed to delve deep into his psyche. “And you, Nick, how does it feel to have your body respond to these changes? To receive men without question, as your Dominant decides?”

Elizabeth, with a gleam of pride and manipulation, answered for him, “It’s beautiful, watching him open up, literally and figuratively. Each time, I see him grow more into who he’s meant to be, his body adapting, accepting, and enjoying.”

The conversation then took a more taunting turn as both Elizabeth and the psychologist began to mock Nick’s physical attributes, focusing particularly on his penis. “Look at it,” Elizabeth said with a laugh, “so small. No woman would settle for that now. This training, this life, it’s the best path for you.”

The psychologist nodded in agreement, her professional facade slipping into one of amusement. “Indeed, this journey has been quite successful. You’ve both adapted beautifully to your new roles. Nick, you’re learning to find pleasure and purpose in ways you never imagined.”

This session was not just about deconstructing Nick’s male identity; it was about reinforcing his new, imposed femininity, making him see his transformation as both inevitable and desirable. The mockery of his size was a tool, a psychological weapon aimed at cementing his place in this new hierarchy where his previous self was no longer relevant or desired.

The air in the room was thick with the weight of their words, each question and response a step further into Nick’s re-education, his mother’s answers painting a picture of success, of a life now more fulfilling because of their submission to this new dynamic, orchestrated by the Dominant and now reinforced by this psychological session.

The psychologist, with a nod of encouragement from Elizabeth, proposed an activity that would immerse Nick deeper into his new identity. “Let’s do a little role-play, shall we?” she suggested, her voice both clinical and excited. “Nick, I want you to imagine you’re at a social gathering, not just as a woman, but as someone confident in their femininity.”

Elizabeth chimed in, “Imagine you’re the host of this party, darling. You’re wearing that beautiful red dress we picked out, and you’re mingling with guests. How do you greet them? What do you talk about?”

Nick, initially hesitant, began to play along. He stood up, imagining the scenario, his voice adjusting to a softer, more feminine tone. “Welcome to my home,” he said, practicing with a smile. “Isn’t the decor lovely? I chose it all myself.”

The psychologist nodded, approvingly. “Good, now imagine someone compliments your look. What do you say?”

“Thank you, I’ve always loved this color on me,” Nick responded, his body language shifting, becoming more open and graceful.

They continued this game, moving through scenarios where Nick had to flirt, engage in small talk, and even handle a situation where someone made an inappropriate comment, teaching him to respond with both wit and dignity. Each scenario was a step further into his new identity, making him see and feel his femininity not just as an act but as a part of his being.

After the role-play, the psychologist transitioned smoothly into the next exercise. “Now, Nick, I want you to take on the role of a therapist. You’re counseling your mother on her experiences here, in this new life we’ve crafted.”

Elizabeth sat across from him, playing the part of a client seeking guidance. “I feel so liberated, but sometimes I wonder if I’m losing parts of myself,” she began, looking for validation.

Nick, now in the role of the therapist, leaned forward, adopting a professional yet empathetic demeanor. “It’s natural to feel that way,” he said, his voice steady. “But from what I see, you’ve found a new aspect of yourself that’s vibrant, powerful. You enjoy this, don’t you?”

“Yes, I love the power, the control, the sensuality,” Elizabeth confessed, her eyes meeting his, a silent acknowledgment of their shared journey.

The psychologist observed, occasionally interjecting with questions that forced Nick to articulate the benefits of their lifestyle. “How does it feel to watch your son embrace this new identity? Does it fulfill you?”

“It’s like watching a flower bloom,” Elizabeth answered, looking at Nick with pride. “He’s becoming who he truly is, and it’s beautiful. Plus, there’s a special bond in guiding him, in knowing we’re both on this path together.”

This exercise not only made Nick see his transformation from another perspective but also reinforced the narrative that his change was positive, desirable, and a source of joy for both him and his mother. Each question and answer was a thread in the tapestry of his new identity, woven with the threads of acceptance, pride, and a redefined sense of self.

The psychologist shifted gears, proposing a scenario that would test Nick’s resilience in the face of societal judgment. “Let’s imagine you’re at a public event, dressed as the woman you’ve become. People are staring, some whispering. How do you handle it?”

Nick, now more accustomed to his role, imagined the scene. “I’d smile, keep my head high,” he said, his posture reflecting his words. “I’d maybe even approach one of the whisperers, compliment their outfit or ask about their evening. Show them I’m confident in who I am.”

Elizabeth encouraged this further, “And what if someone makes a snide remark?”

“I’d laugh it off,” Nick responded, his voice gaining strength. “I’d say, ‘Thanks for noticing, darling. It takes a lot of courage to stand out, doesn’t it?’”

The psychologist nodded approvingly, “This isn’t just about handling negativity; it’s about embracing your new identity so fully that the opinions of others fade into the background. You’re in control of your narrative now.”

The session then took a profound turn as the psychologist handed Nick a piece of paper and a pen. “I want you to write a letter to your past self, explaining why you no longer need or want that identity.”

Nick took his time, his pen moving across the paper with deliberate strokes:

“Dear Past Me,

You were so caught up in the trappings of masculinity, in the need to be something you weren’t meant to be. You chased after an image that was never truly you. Now, look at me. I’ve found freedom in submission, beauty in my femininity. Your strength was false; mine is real because it’s mine, not society’s.

You were scared of your desires, of what it meant to truly desire submission, to embrace the feminine. But now, I laugh at your fear, at your small, rigid world. I’ve grown beyond you, into someone who knows pleasure, who understands power through surrender.

I don’t need your version of manhood anymore. It was a cage, and I’ve found the key. I mock you, your smallness, your insecurities. You were a shadow; I am the light.

Goodbye, and thank you for being the chrysalis from which I emerged.”

Elizabeth and the psychologist read over Nick’s words, their faces a mix of satisfaction and ritualistic intent. “This needs to be sealed, not just in writing but in action,” Elizabeth said, her voice echoing with ceremonial weight.

They had Nick spit on the letter, symbolizing his rejection of his past self. Then, in an act of further humiliation and irony, they instructed him to ejaculate onto the paper, his small penis a source of mockery even in this act. “Show your past self how little he matters now,” Elizabeth taunted.

Once he had fulfilled this bizarre command, they made him clean his semen off the letter with his tongue, an act of ultimate submission and degradation. Finally, with the letter still damp, they brought it to a small fireplace in the room.

“Watch as you burn away the last remnants of who you were,” the psychologist said, a match in hand. She lit the paper, and they all watched as the words, the spit, and the semen turned to ash, symbolizing the end of Nick’s old identity and the sealing of his new one.

This act was not just a psychological exercise; it was a ritual, a binding contract with his new self, witnessed and approved by those who had guided him to this point. The fire consumed the past, leaving Nick in the present, fully transformed, his new identity now indelibly marked.

The villa’s air was charged with anticipation as Mr. Sean and Mr. Mark, the Alphas, crossed the threshold, their presence immediately altering the room’s atmosphere. Their eyes, sharp and assessing, fell upon Nick, who stood in the center of the room, his transformation into femininity evident in his delicate attire and poised demeanor. Elizabeth, with a gleam of pride in her eyes, approached with a specialized caliper in hand, a tool for measuring more than just physical attributes.

“Let’s see how much you’ve progressed,” she murmured, her voice a mix of command and care. She guided Nick to bend over, his compliance swift and graceful. With clinical precision, she inserted the caliper, the cold metal contrasting with Nick’s warm, prepared body. “Look at this,” Elizabeth announced triumphantly, showing the Alphas the measurement. “He’s opened up significantly more than last time. His training has been very effective.”

Mr. Sean, his gaze lingering on the numbers, nodded approvingly. “Good, very good. He’s becoming quite the accommodating little pet,” he remarked, his voice carrying both satisfaction and a hint of challenge.

The demonstration moved to the next phase, one that would showcase Nick’s mastery over his new skills. “Let’s see how well you can take it now,” Mr. Mark said, his tone both demanding and inviting. Nick knelt before them, his transformation into his submissive role evident in every fluid motion.

First with Mr. Sean, Nick opened wide, his technique now refined by countless hours under Elizabeth’s tutelage. He took Mr. Sean deep, his throat accommodating the intrusion with ease, showing no sign of gagging. “Keep going,” Mr. Sean encouraged, his voice thick with approval as Nick took him to the hilt, his nose pressing against Mr. Sean’s abdomen.

Then, with Mr. Mark, Nick repeated the act, his mouth moving with practiced rhythm, swallowing every inch without hesitation. “He’s learned well; he can take anything we give him now,” Mr. Mark observed, as Nick swallowed the fluids offered, a testament to his total submission.

The verbal assault came next, a test of Nick’s resilience and acceptance of his new identity. “Look at you, you’re barely recognizable from the boy we started with,” Mr. Sean taunted, his words sharp like a blade. “You’ve become our little plaything, haven’t you?”

Mr. Mark joined in, his voice dripping with mockery. “And to think, you used to be so proud of your masculinity. Now, you’re just a hole for our pleasure.”

Nick, trained by the psychologist in the art of turning humiliation into pride, responded with a dignity that belied his position. “I am honored to serve you,” he replied, his voice steady, not a trace of the intended shame in his tone. His response was one of acceptance, of embracing his new identity with a grace that surprised even the Alphas.

“You’ve learned to turn humiliation into pride,” Mr. Sean noted, slightly taken aback by how far Nick had come. “That’s the mark of true submission,” he acknowledged, the room filled with the weight of their words and the complex dance of dominance and submission they were all part of.

Elizabeth watched the scene unfold with a blend of pride and a fierce delight, her eyes never leaving Nick as he performed his acts of submission. Her voice, when she spoke, was bold, almost daring. “He’s not just serving; he’s thriving in this role,” she declared, her tone both praise and provocation. “Look how eager he is to please, how he’s embraced every part of his transformation.” Her words were a challenge to Nick, urging him to push further, to show his complete acceptance of his new life.

“He’s no longer the boy you knew; he’s become something much more… refined,” she continued, her gaze meeting the Alphas’ with a mix of triumph and mischief. Her comments were not just about Nick but also about her own role in this transformation, her mastery over him.

As the visit neared its end, Mr. Sean and Mr. Mark decided on one final act to solidify their dominance. “Show your respect,” Mr. Sean commanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a whip. Nick, without hesitation, bent down, his lips softly touching the leather of their shoes, an act of ultimate submission.

Then came the degradation, the marking of territory in the most primal way. Both Alphas unzipped, their aim directed at Nick, drenching him in their urine, a clear statement of ownership. “You’re ours, fully,” Mr. Mark stated, watching with a smirk as the liquid ran down Nick’s body, marking him in their eyes and in his own.

Turning to Elizabeth, Mr. Sean issued another command, “Join us.” With a wide, eager smile, she complied, stepping forward to add her contribution to the act. She urinated on Nick too, her actions a testament to her own dominance within this dynamic, her smile one of pure satisfaction at the control she wielded.

Once the Alphas had left, leaving behind a potent mix of commands and degradation, Elizabeth’s demeanor softened, but only slightly. She directed Nick to the bathroom with a gentle push, ensuring he was clean from the ordeal. When he returned, his body cleansed but his spirit still bearing the weight of the session, she embraced him tightly. “You did well, my dear,” she whispered, her voice a mix of comfort and possession. The hug was both a reward and a reminder of the complex bond they now shared, a bond forged in the fires of submission and control.

Chapter Five – The Doctor’s Visit

The villa had been a cocoon of transformation, but now it was time for Nick to be taken beyond its familiar walls, into a new realm of psychological surrender. Elizabeth, ever the orchestrator of his descent, led him to a discreet clinic, run by a doctor who was not just a member of the community but an active participant in the games of power and submission that defined their world. The plan, unbeknownst to Nick, was a carefully crafted piece of theater—a psychological gambit designed to break him further, to toy with the fragile remnants of his resistance.

The doctor’s office was sterile yet intimate, the air heavy with the scent of antiseptic and the unspoken promise of something more. Nick, dressed in soft, feminine attire, sat nervously on the examination table, his legs crossed demurely as Elizabeth stood by his side, her presence both comforting and commanding. The doctor, a man whose demeanor was as clinical as it was predatory, entered with a knowing smile. He was already briefed, a willing actor in this elaborate charade.

“We’re here to discuss something serious today,” the doctor began, his voice smooth, authoritative. “We need to consider the possibility of a vasectomy. It’s a step that could solidify your commitment to this new life, Nick. A final severing of your ties to a past self that no longer serves you.”

Nick’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. The word “vasectomy” hung in the air like a blade, sharp and irreversible. Elizabeth placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, her touch grounding him even as her eyes gleamed with the thrill of the deception.

The doctor began his examination, his hands moving with practiced precision. He inspected Nick’s anal dilation first, his fingers probing, measuring. “Remarkable,” he murmured, glancing at Elizabeth. “The training has been thorough. He’s opened up beautifully.” Nick flushed at the clinical assessment, the humiliation of being discussed like an object of study only deepening his submission.

Next, the doctor turned his attention to Nick’s genitals, his gaze lingering on the shriveled state of his testicles, a result of the cage and the hormones that had been subtly altering his body. “The atrophy here is significant,” the doctor noted, his tone detached yet tinged with a faint satisfaction. “And look,” he added, brushing a hand lightly over Nick’s chest, “there’s even a slight swelling of the breasts. The transformation is progressing nicely.”

Elizabeth nodded, her smile one of quiet triumph. “He’s becoming exactly what he needs to be,” she said, her voice a mix of pride and possession.

The doctor then stepped back, retrieving an instrument from his tray—a thick, imposing speculum, far larger than anything Nick had seen before. He placed it deliberately on the table, directly above Nick’s caged, diminished manhood, the contrast stark and humiliating. The weight of the tool seemed to press down on Nick’s psyche as much as it did on the table.

And then the discussion began in earnest, a carefully choreographed dance of persuasion. “A vasectomy,” the doctor said, leaning back against the counter, his eyes locked on Nick’s, “would be a liberation, a way to embrace your new role fully. No more lingering doubts about your masculinity, no more biological ties to a life you’ve left behind.”

Elizabeth leaned in, her voice soft yet insistent. “Think about it, Nick. It’s the ultimate act of submission, the final step in proving your devotion to this life, to us. You’ve already come so far. This is just the natural progression.”

Nick’s mind raced, the weight of their words pressing down on him like the speculum on the table. He hesitated, his voice trembling as he spoke. “I… I don’t know. It’s so… permanent.”

The doctor smirked, stepping closer. “It is, but so is your transformation. This is just a formality, a way to align your body with your new reality.” He paused, his eyes narrowing with a predatory glint. Then, in a move that was both calculated and cruel, he unzipped his trousers, revealing his thick, hardening cock. He let it rest heavily on the table, inches from Nick’s face.

“Consider this,” the doctor said, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “If you say yes, I’ll let you taste me. A reward for your courage.” He shifted closer, the head of his cock brushing against Nick’s lips, leaving a faint trail of pre-cum. “Just a little incentive,” he added, his tone mocking, as he let a few more drops fall onto Nick’s trembling mouth.

Nick’s breath hitched, the taste of the doctor’s dominance lingering on his lips, the weight of the decision pressing down on him as heavily as the speculum had on the table. The room was thick with tension, the three of them locked in a moment that was as much about power as it was about choice.

Elizabeth leaned in close, her lips brushing against Nick’s ear, her whisper a mix of seduction and coercion. “Look at how big it is,” she breathed, her voice a soft caress against his psyche. “What a shame it would be to let this opportunity slip away with a ‘no’. Your little balls are useless anyway, aren’t they? They serve no purpose in your new life.”

As she spoke, her hands subtly yet firmly guided Nick’s head towards the doctor’s imposing erection. Her words continued, a relentless push towards submission. “Think of it, Nick. This could be your moment to show just how far you’ve come, how much you want to belong to this world, to us. Don’t you want to feel that freedom?”

Nick, overwhelmed by the psychological pressure, the physical proximity of the doctor’s arousal, and Elizabeth’s persuasive whispers, felt his resolve crumble. “Yes,” he finally gasped, his voice a mixture of defeat and desire.

The moment he uttered his consent, the doctor moved forward, his cock now pressing against Nick’s lips, an immediate reward for his submission. Nick’s mouth opened, accepting the doctor’s dominance, his tongue tentatively exploring this new act of surrender.

The doctor, his excitement palpable, thrust into Nick’s mouth with a groan of pleasure, his movements becoming more urgent. The room filled with the sounds of their act, the wet, rhythmic noises of deep penetration. With a final, shuddering thrust, the doctor climaxed, his release filling Nick’s mouth, a physical manifestation of his psychological defeat.

Elizabeth, with a look of triumph mixed with duty, quickly moved to clean Nick, her fingers catching the spill of semen that escaped from his lips. “Good boy, or should i say…good girl?” she murmured, her tone one of approval and possession.

The doctor, regaining his composure, zipped up his trousers, his demeanor returning to one of professional detachment. “Elizabeth, get dressed. I have another appointment, one that concerns both of you,” he instructed, his voice brisk. He then turned to Nick, his command stern but clear. “Stay here, legs open, just as you are. We’ll be back.”

Elizabeth, with a nod, complied, her movements efficient as she prepared to leave the room. She cast one last look at Nick, her eyes conveying a complex blend of satisfaction, pride, and perhaps a hint of something softer, something more akin to care. But she said nothing more, leaving Nick in the cold, clinical room, his legs spread, his mind reeling from the intensity of the manipulation and the act he had just performed, awaiting the next chapter of his transformation.

From his position on the examination table, Nick could overhear murmurs and discussions from the office next door, his curiosity piqued by the tone and the occasional laughter. The door opened, and in walked Elizabeth, accompanied by another woman of similar age and a young man at her side. The doctor, with a professional but conspiratorial air, made the necessary introductions.

“This is Mrs. Jane and her ward, much like you and Elizabeth,” he explained, his voice carrying that clinical edge. “She’s brought him here to see what his future might look like if he continues down this path.”

The doctor then turned to Mrs. Jane, revealing the bombshell. “Nick and Elizabeth have decided to proceed with the full procedure of sterilization.”

Mrs. Jane’s eyes widened in shock, but there was also a flicker of interest, even admiration in her gaze. “My goodness,” she murmured, her voice a mix of awe and apprehension. The young man beside her also looked visibly shaken, the reality of what might lie ahead for him now palpable.

Elizabeth, seizing the moment, invited Mrs. Jane closer. “Feel for yourself,” she said, her voice a blend of pride and mockery. “See what becomes of such dedication.”

Mrs. Jane, with Elizabeth’s nod of approval, reached out, her fingers gently touching Nick’s atrophied testicles and his small, caged penis. The response was minimal, almost negligible, which led Elizabeth to comment with a light, mocking tone, “Quite the contrast, isn’t it?” The two women shared a discreet laugh, the sound sharp against the sterile environment.

The doctor, always one to push boundaries, turned to the young man. “Show us what you have,” he commanded. Reluctantly, the young man complied, revealing himself. He placed his penis next to Nick’s, the difference stark; his was larger, more pronounced.

“Clearly, it’s much bigger than yours,” Mrs. Jane said to Elizabeth, her voice tinged with pride for her ward.

“Let’s see how big it can get,” Elizabeth suggested with a playful smirk, and before anyone could react, she took the young man’s penis into her mouth, her actions both a demonstration of her control and a lesson for both the young men in the room.

The atmosphere was charged with a mix of humiliation, education, and the ever-present dance of power dynamics, each action a step further into the complex world they navigated, where every touch, every act, was laden with meaning and intention.

As the young man’s arousal grew, the doctor issued a directive with a tone of finality. “Fuck him,” he said, looking at the young man with a clinical detachment. “After we start your program, you won’t have many erections like this. You’ll be like Nick here. So, do it as hard as you can because chances like this won’t come often in the future.”

While the young man took his position behind Nick, Elizabeth moved closer, gesturing for Mrs. Jane to join her. She took Mrs. Jane’s hand, guiding her finger into the young man’s anus, initiating her into this new dynamic of power and control. “Feel this,” she whispered, teaching Mrs. Jane the first steps of this intricate dance of dominance.

The young man, startled at first, was about to pull away when Elizabeth leaned in close, her lips against his ear. “Give in to the moment,” she coaxed. “This is a pivotal moment for both you and your guardian. Look at Nick’s budding breasts,” she continued, her voice a seductive murmur, “think about how soon yours will be like that too.” With those words, she planted the seed of inevitability in his mind, urging him to release inside Nick. And so, he did, his body responding to her words with a climax that marked his further descent into this world.

Once he withdrew, the doctor, ever the orchestrator of these lessons, gave his next command. “Clean up with your tongue before we leave,” he said, his voice authoritative. “We clean up after ourselves.” He then wrapped an arm around both women, leading them out of the room, leaving the young man with Nick, his task clear.

The young man, now alone with Nick, bent down, his tongue moving to clean the semen that trickled from Nick. It was an act of degradation, of submission, but also of acceptance into this new life that awaited him. The room was silent except for the sound of his task, a stark reminder of the path he was being led down, one where every act was a lesson, every moment a step further into the depths of control and submission.

Chapter Six – The Public Revelation and Acceptance

Within the secluded walls of the BDSM community, an exclusive event was called to celebrate the profound journeys of its members. This gathering was not just about indulgence; it was a testament to the power of transformation, of turning perceived flaws into symbols of strength and identity. Nick’s progression from shame to pride, guided by Elizabeth’s hand, was the heart of this event. It was an opportunity for the community to witness, acknowledge, and ritualistically affirm the beauty in submission and the courage it takes to embrace one’s true self in the presence of like-minded souls.

The night was set for a private event within the confines of the BDSM community, where transformation and submission were celebrated. Nick, with Elizabeth by his side, stood on the deck, the cool night air contrasting with the warmth of the gathered crowd. This was not merely an event; it was a rite of passage, a celebration of identity.

Nick, his voice firm yet filled with emotion, addressed the assembly. “I stand before you not as the man I was, but as the person I’ve become. What was once a source of shame, my size, has become my pride. In submission, I’ve found freedom, in transformation, beauty. I am here to embrace all that I am, with all of you as my witnesses.”

The room responded with applause, a mix of respect and admiration for his journey. Elizabeth, her pride palpable, presented him with a small, sparkling diamond affixed to a butt plug, a symbol of his new identity and acceptance. She inserted it with care, Nick’s face a mixture of pride and slight discomfort, marking the moment with a silent promise of loyalty to his new self.

The ceremony took a unique turn as Elizabeth, with a ceremonial air, gently removed Nick’s penis from its confinement, revealing its smallness to the guests. “Behold,” she announced, her voice filled with pride, “the beauty in what was once hidden, in what was once deemed small.”

One by one, the guests approached, their intent ritualistic rather than malicious. Each leaned in, letting their saliva fall onto Nick’s exposed penis, not out of disdain but as part of the acceptance ritual. The liquid accumulated, Elizabeth holding him, ensuring every drop found its mark, creating a small pool of communal acknowledgment.

As the guests passed, their comments became more pointed, more caustic, yet each was delivered with a smile or a nod of recognition. “Such a tiny thing, isn’t it?” one might say, while another would muse, “But oh, how it shines in its submission.”

Nick met each comment with a sweet, knowing smile, his response one of pride rather than embarrassment. Elizabeth, standing beside him, basked in the transformation she had guided, her words reinforcing the narrative. “Look at him, embracing what was once his burden. Now, it’s his crown.”

Her massages varied, sometimes gentle, sometimes with enough force to remind Nick of the pain that could be part of pleasure, part of this new life. Each touch, each drop of saliva was a testament to the community’s acceptance, turning what was once a point of insecurity into a celebrated aspect of his identity.

This was more than an event; it was a transformation, a communal affirmation that in this circle, every part of one’s being was not just accepted but cherished.

The night continued with an air of celebration, the guests now more relaxed, their focus on the communal joy of the gathering. Nick, adorned with the diamond butt plug and now in a role of service, began to serve drinks. Each guest who took a drink from him placed a drop of saliva on his tongue, not with malice but with a sense of ritual, of connection.

As the night wore on and glasses were emptied, some guests would leave a bit of their saliva in the bottom of their glass, mixing it with the remnants of their drink. Nick, understanding his role, would then drink from these glasses, each sip a symbol of his acceptance, his submission to the community’s rituals.

After this act of service, Elizabeth took the stage, her presence commanding attention. Her speech was not just about Nick but also a reflection on her own journey as his guide. “Tonight, we celebrate not just Nick’s transformation but the journey we’ve all taken together,” she began, her voice resonating with pride.

“I’ve watched him grow, from a boy trapped by the expectations of masculinity to someone who embodies grace in submission,” she continued, her eyes meeting Nick’s with a mix of affection and authority.”And look at him now, his boobs beginning to bloom, a testament to our shared path. We both, in our own ways, are about to embrace changes that will alter our bodies,” she hinted, her words carrying the weight of both promise and mystery before revealing the grand plan.

Then, she dropped a bombshell, her voice tinged with both humor and gravity. “I’ve accepted an order from our Dominant. I am to become pregnant.” The room gasped, all eyes turning to Nick, whose expression was one of shock. “Perhaps I’ll give birth to a real boy this time,” Elizabeth teased, her laughter light but her gaze sharp on Nick, who was visibly stunned by this revelation.

She announced the next phase of the evening with a mischievous smile. “In one hour, in the master bedroom, we will attempt this conception, and Nick will be there, serving any who wish to join in this celebration of life and submission. It is the Dominant’s command that he witness this new beginning.”

The room buzzed with excitement and curiosity, the guests whispering among themselves, some already planning to participate, others simply intrigued by the unfolding drama. Elizabeth’s announcement was not just about conception but about weaving Nick deeper into the fabric of their lives, making him an integral part of this new chapter, both as a servant and a witness to the power dynamics that defined their community.

The room buzzed with a mix of shock and excitement as Elizabeth’s announcement hung in the air. She approached Nick, her smile wide, radiating with the anticipation of what was to come, as if this news was the pinnacle of her life’s journey. Around them, members of the community, some familiar, others strangers, began to approach, offering congratulations, their hands moving over both Elizabeth and Nick in gestures of approval and affection.

“Nick,” Elizabeth began, her voice soft yet filled with an edge of command, “how does it make you feel, this news? To know your body is changing alongside mine, becoming something beautiful in its own right?”

Nick, still processing the revelation, managed a smile, though it was tinged with uncertainty. “It’s… overwhelming,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with mischief and pride. “Oh, my dear, you should be thrilled. But there’s more,” she continued, leaning closer so only he could hear. “The Dominant has decided that you’ll be part of this conception process. You’ll be taken right beside me, a testament to our unity.”

Nick’s eyes widened, the implications of her words sinking in. “Beside you?” he echoed, a mix of fear and curiosity in his tone.

“Yes,” she confirmed, her hand gently caressing his cheek. “You’ll be there, serving, submitting, and yes, being used. It’s an honor, truly. And I’ve prepared for this night. I’ve been on a special diet, taking medications to ensure tonight is… fruitful. Nothing has been left to chance.”

The weight of her words, the reality of their shared future, began to settle in Nick’s mind. “I… I understand,” he said, his voice steadying as he accepted this new role, this new layer to his submission.

Elizabeth nodded, her smile never faltering. “Good. You’ll see, this is not just about creating life; it’s about cementing our place in this world, in this community. We’re both transforming, Nick, into something greater, more aligned with the desires of those who guide us.”

As they spoke, the Dominant watched from a distance, his presence a silent endorsement of the night’s events, ensuring that every step was part of a larger, carefully orchestrated dance of dominance and submission.

The master bedroom was prepared with the meticulous care of a sacred ceremony. Roses adorned the bed, scattered across the floor, and draped over the sofas, their fragrance filling the air with an intoxicating promise. Inside, a photographer from the community awaited, his presence mandated by the Dominant to capture this night, ensuring that the submission and the events would be documented for future reminders of their obedience.

As guests entered, each donned a mask, their identities concealed except for Nick and Elizabeth, who were to be the centerpieces of this ritual. The Dominant, his voice echoing with authority, announced the ten chosen participants who would attempt to impregnate both Nick and Elizabeth.

The ten men entered, naked except for their masks, each sporting an erection, the result of days without release, a strategy designed to heighten the chances of conception that night. Elizabeth lay on the bed, her smile wide, a mix of excitement and surrender, with Nick beside her, his expression a blend of nervousness and acceptance.

The Dominant took a moment to address the room. “All participants have been briefed,” he stated, his voice clear and commanding. “They’ve abstained for days, ensuring tonight’s efforts are not in vain. You will treat both Elizabeth and Nick as if they are vessels for new life. Every one of you is to release inside them.”

He then turned to Elizabeth with a peculiar request. “And Elizabeth, tonight, you will choose a new feminine name for Nick. This name will be his from now on, a symbol of his transformation and his role in this new life we’re creating.”

The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, the ritualistic setting enhancing the sense of this being not just an act of sex but of transformation, of legacy. The photographer adjusted his camera, ready to capture each moment of submission, each act of dominance, as the night unfolded in a dance of power, desire, and the creation of new identities.

Elizabeth, with a glint of mischief in her eyes, looked at Nick, her hand gently caressing his cheek. “From this night forward,” she declared, her voice ringing with both affection and authority, “you will no longer be Nick. Your new name, one that suits the beauty you’ve become, shall be Nicky. A name that whispers of the femininity you’ve embraced, the submission you’ve mastered, and the new journey we embark upon together.”

Into the room stepped a woman cloaked in a red robe, her nudity beneath emphasizing her role as the ceremonial officiant, the Mistress of Ceremony of the ritual. She was there not to participate actively but to ensure the ceremony’s effectiveness, to spur on the participants if their vigor waned, ensuring each could perform multiple times throughout the night.

With authority, she directed Elizabeth and, now, Nicky to lie side by side on the bed, their hands clasped tightly together. “Hold each other,” she commanded, “do not break this bond unless I say so.” She then positioned them on their backs, their vulnerability palpable in the candlelit room.

Taking a generous amount of lubricant in her hand, she crushed several rose petals into it, creating a red, fragrant mixture. With one hand, she carefully applied this concoction to Elizabeth’s vagina and anus, and with the other, to Nicky’s penis and anus. “You must be ready, be wet,” she instructed with a firm tone. “Don’t expect the gentlemen to do this for you.”

Turning her attention to Nicky, she added with a sly smile, “And you, you’ll be taken without your cage tonight. The stallions are thrilled to see your little thing.” Her words were both a taunt and an encouragement, setting the stage for what was to come.

With those words, she guided the first of the eager participants towards them, their erections poised, ready to fulfill the night’s purpose under her watchful, orchestrating gaze.

The room was filled with the primal sounds of flesh against flesh as the male participants began to take Elizabeth and Nicky with vigorous thrusts. Their hands, clasped tightly together, squeezed harder with each movement, a silent communication of shared pleasure and pain under the dim, flickering light of candles.

The atmosphere was charged with raw energy, the room echoing with moans and the heavy breathing of exertion. Each participant awaited their turn with eager anticipation, their bodies ready to fulfill the night’s command.

The Mistress of the Ceremony, draped in her red robe, began her speech, her voice seductive and commanding, stirring the men further into arousal. “Look at Nicky here, transitioning under the watchful eye of her mentor, Elizabeth. See her little penis, a symbol of her beautiful transformation,” she cooed, her words both mocking and admiring. “Elizabeth takes such pride in it, as does our entire community.”

As she spoke, she announced a ritualistic act. “Tonight, we burn away what remains of the male within Nicky.” She beckoned another member to hold Nicky’s other hand, effectively locking her in place on the bed.

With the audience’s attention, she took a jar of aromatic wax, tossing in a few rose petals, watching them catch fire. As one of the participants continued to thrust into Nicky, the MC approached with the burning mixture. “Lift Elizabeth’s head,” she instructed, “she must see this.”

Elizabeth’s gaze was fixed on Nicky as the MC began to pour the hot wax over Nicky’s penis. The wax met skin, blending pain with an intense, confusing arousal in Nicky’s mind. Her cries filled the room, a mix of agony and ecstasy, neither pleasure nor pain distinguishable anymore.

“Spit on it, cool it,” the MC commanded the others, her voice cutting through the sounds of the act. The participants, one by one, leaned over to spit on the wax-covered penis, their saliva cooling the heat, turning the act of pain into one of communal participation, easing Nicky’s suffering while heightening the ritual’s intensity.

The MC bent low, her face between Nicky and Elizabeth’s heads as they lay intertwined in their acts of submission. “Was this necessary?” she asked Nicky, her voice a mix of challenge and curiosity.

Elizabeth, amidst her own moans of pleasure, answered with conviction, “It was, and very much so! Isn’t that right, my dear?”

“Yes,” Nicky managed to reply, her voice laced with pain and hesitation, “but it hurts so much,” she protested, her body still trembling from the ordeal.

The MC took over, her tone both instructional and relentless. “According to tradition, once I give the command, the man holding your hand will let go, giving you fifteen seconds to play with your little penis. You must do so with vigor, to clean off the wax at the same time. If you can climax within those fifteen seconds, no more wax will be poured. If not, we’ll have to try again. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Nicky answered, a mix of determination and fear in her voice.

The MC then called to the man holding Nicky’s hand, “Release her.” But in a twist of tradition, she began the countdown not from fifteen but from a deceptive five, “Five, six, seven…”

Nicky, with urgency, began to stroke herself, each movement painful as she tried to remove the wax, her actions desperate yet filled with the need to comply. The participant inside her didn’t pause, his thrusts relentless, adding to the complexity of her task.

“Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen… you’ve lost!” the MC declared, her voice almost gleeful as she swiftly moved to sit over Nicky’s face, her command clear, “Hold her hand again,” she instructed the assistant, securing Nicky once more to the ritual’s demands.

The room was thick with the scent of desire, wax, and roses, the atmosphere a blend of cruelty and care, all under the guise of transformation and submission.

With her full weight now upon Nicky, the Mistress of Ceremony (MC) positioned her vagina over Nicky’s face, her gaze lifting to meet the eyes of the man inside her. “Want to make the experience a bit hotter?” she proposed with a wicked grin.

“Absolutely,” he responded without hesitation.

“Pull out and hold her ass open,” she commanded, and he complied instantly. She then took the wax once more, pouring several drops into Nicky’s exposed anus. Nicky’s screams were muffled by the MC’s body, her pain absorbed into the flesh pressing down on her.

Beside them, Elizabeth’s partner remarked with awe, “They’re really delving deep into your ward next to you.”

Elizabeth, her voice strong with approval, answered back, “Good for her. That’s how it should be.” Her words seemed to spur on her own partner, who, with a deep thrust, climaxed inside her, leaving his mark. No sooner had he withdrawn than another man took his place without a word, continuing the relentless cycle.

Back with Nicky, the MC looked at the man ready to continue. “Ready?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied, eager.

“Good. Go in.” He entered Nicky, feeling an indescribable sensation. His movements were forceful, and within seconds, he too reached his climax, spilling the first nectar of pleasure inside her, marking the beginning of her transformation in this intense ceremony.

The MC, feeling the moment was ripe, commanded, “Next.” As the new participant entered Nicky, the MC poured a few drops of wax onto Nicky’s penis, the heat a sharp contrast to the coolness of the room. “Be quicker this time,” she urged with a stern tone.

She instructed her assistant to release Nicky’s hand, giving her the chance to act. With newfound urgency, Nicky began to stroke herself with speed and force, her movements synchronized with the relentless thrusts of her new partner. The countdown began, “Twelve, thirteen, fourteen…”

Suddenly, Nicky climaxed, her body convulsing with the dual sensations of pain and pleasure. The room erupted in cheers, the audience celebrating her success. Beside her, Elizabeth stretched out, placing a tender kiss on Nicky’s forehead, her voice proud as she congratulated her, “Well done, you did it.”

The MC, with her ceremonial authority, directed Elizabeth and Nicky to embrace tightly, even as strangers continued their relentless thrusts from behind. She leaned close to Elizabeth’s ear, her voice a whisper meant only for her. “Tell her now, how much more you love her.”

Elizabeth, her voice tender yet filled with a new intensity, spoke directly to Nicky. “I hold you in higher regard now, more than ever. Your life is about to change, especially once we rid you of those foolish, small erections after your treatment. We’ll watch my body transform together, and you’ll be by my side to raise a real boy, not like the one you were before.”

Nicky, caught in the throes of both pain and pleasure, accepted Elizabeth’s words with a joyful nod, her voice trembling but clear. “I’ve waited years for this acceptance. It’s finally here.”

The MC, playing the role of both conductor and psychologist, observed the scene with keen interest. As the men continued to drive into them with force, she worked to weave an emotional thread between the two, tightening their embrace. “Feel each other’s heartbeat,” she instructed, her voice soothing yet commanding. “This bond is what will redefine you both, beyond the physical, into something deeper, more profound.”

The room was filled with the sounds of their union, the echoes of their shared journey, and the promise of a new beginning, one where submission was not just an act but a celebration of their evolving identities.

The MC exchanged a knowing look with the Dominant, who gave a nod of affirmation, signaling her to proceed to the next phase of the ritual. She approached Elizabeth and Nicky, her voice carrying the weight of the moment. “Nicky, it’s time for you to leave Elizabeth now. Things are about to get more serious for her; they’ll start coming in pairs inside her, and you can’t be present for that. She needs to focus on conception, not on you. Otherwise, we might end up with another failure like you, and that would be problematic. She must concentrate on the men alone.”

Nicky, her voice laced with emotion, protested, “No, I don’t want to leave her. I love her too much.”

Elizabeth, with a gentle yet firm tone, responded, “It’s okay, my love, the MC is right. I can’t have my mind on you right now, especially with so many men around.”

The MC added, “Don’t be sad, Nicky. Two men will accompany you to the next room, and they’ll take care of you right behind this wall.” She pointed to an adjacent room, separated only by a thin partition wall.

With a swift gesture from the MC, one of the men roughly pulled Nicky from Elizabeth’s embrace. Elizabeth’s smile was one of relief as she was freed from the emotional tether.

Before Nicky was escorted out of the room, the MC, with an intentionally loud voice, asked Elizabeth, “Finally, you’ve gotten rid of the weight, haven’t you? You’ve carried it for so long.”

Elizabeth, now with two cocks inside her, answered in a voice thick with pleasure, “You have no idea,” her smile ironic as she embraced the new reality, the new focus of her life.

The room where the two men took Nicky was enveloped in darkness, illuminated only by the flicker of two candles, casting light on just a quarter of the space. They wasted no time; one entered her anus, the other her mouth, their movements synchronized with the primal rhythm from the other side of the wall.

Behind that thin partition, the men were relentlessly taking Elizabeth in pairs, their coarse, vulgar comments filling the air. “You’re gonna be so pregnant with all this cum, you’ll pop out a whole litter!” one shouted. “Fill her up, make sure she’s carrying by morning!” yelled another. Elizabeth, lost in the intensity of the moment, affirmed each crude remark with enthusiastic shouts of agreement, fully surrendered to her purpose.

The MC, her voice now booming, questioned Elizabeth, “Do you worry about Nicky now, with her in the hands of two others?”

Without hesitation, Elizabeth responded, her voice dripping with satisfaction, “Not at all. I have a duty to fulfill for the Dominant. I must get pregnant. What Nicky does comes second. She needs to understand that now.”

In the dark room, amidst the cacophony of voices and the sounds of flesh meeting flesh, one of the men asked Nicky, his breath heavy with exertion, “Does she have a point? Do you understand her?”

Nicky, overwhelmed by sensation and the moment, nodded her head as best she could, her affirmation muffled by the cock in her mouth.

The MC then instructed Elizabeth, “Shout ‘Fuck Nick’ loudly so everyone can hear.” Elizabeth complied, her voice a loud, clear command, “Fuck Nick!”

Nicky and her partners heard it all too well. They pushed her against the wall, urging her, “Shout it back, let her hear you. Free her from your concern.”

Nicky, in a mix of pain and pleasure, screamed, “Fuck Nik!”

Elizabeth, hearing Nicky’s voice, her smile wide with satisfaction, echoed back, “Fuck Nik!” followed by Nicky repeating it once more.

The Escalation of Denouncement

With each shout of “Fuck Nik!” the air between the two rooms thickened with tension and emotion. Elizabeth, her voice rising above the sounds of pleasure and pain, called out with a mix of challenge and affirmation, “Fuck Nik!”

Nicky, pressed against the wall, her body reacting to both the physical assault and the emotional weight of the moment, echoed back, “Fuck Nik!” But this time, there was a shift in the tone, an edge of accusation.

From the other side of the wall, Elizabeth’s voice carried not just the command of the moment but an accusation, “You’ve always been the burden, Nik! Holding me back with your needs, your insecurities. Fuck Nik!”

Nicky, hearing the accusation in her lover’s voice, felt a surge of both submission and defiance. With the men still driving into her, she shouted back, her voice cracking with emotion, “Fuck Nik! For always being the problem, for not letting you be free!”

The back-and-forth became a crescendo of blame, each “Fuck Nik!” a declaration of release from the past, from the roles they had once played. Elizabeth, with a new vigor, her body moving in rhythm with the men inside her, screamed, “Fuck Nik, for making me doubt my desires, for making me feel less!”

Nicky, caught in the raw honesty of the moment, responded in kind, her voice now a mix of pain, pleasure, and realization, “Fuck Nik, for not seeing what you needed, for not being what you deserved!”

The MC, sensing the escalating emotional exchange, urged them on, her voice loud and clear, “Let it out! Free yourselves from each other’s shadows!”

With each shout, the words became less about sex and more about exorcising the ghosts of their relationship, about breaking free from the chains of past roles. The room echoed with their cries, each “Fuck Nik!” a step towards a new identity, a new dynamic where each could embrace their true selves without the baggage of the other.

As the men inside them reached their climax, the women’s voices intertwined in one final, resonant cry, “Fuck Nik!” – a cathartic release, an acknowledgment of change, and the beginning of a new chapter where they could exist not as anchors to each other but as individuals in their own right.

Chapter Seven -Reflections of Change

he morning light filtered softly through the heavy curtains, casting long shadows across the room where Nicky found herself alone. The night before had been a maelstrom of submission and transformation, and now, the silence was almost deafening. She stood before the full-length mirror, her body partially illuminated, partially hidden in the dim light. Her fingers traced the new contours of her form, the slight swelling where her breasts were beginning to bud, the smooth skin where hair once was.

As she absorbed her reflection, the door creaked open, and Elizabeth entered, her presence immediately filling the room with the scent of semen. She hadn’t been allowed to clean up from the night’s festivities, and as she walked, droplets of cum made a path on the floor behind her. Her eyes met Nicky’s in the mirror, a look of gentle command and understanding.

“Oops, will you clean this for me?” Elizabeth asked, her voice soft but with an underlying tone of authority. “I can’t afford to tire myself out from now on… isn’t that right?”

“Yes, of course,” Nicky responded, her voice a mix of obedience and affection. She knelt down, her tongue lapping at the drops of semen on the floor, an act both degrading and intimate.

“If you ask me whose it is now, we’d both laugh,” Elizabeth said with a playful smirk, and at that, they both chuckled, embracing each other in a moment of shared humor amidst the intensity of their lives.

Elizabeth, observing Nicky’s earlier contemplation in the mirror, spoke up, “I saw you looking at yourself when I came in.” Her eyes were kind but probing. “What do you see?”

Nicky paused, considering her response. “Someone… different. Someone becoming what they were meant to be.”

The conversation flowed naturally, discussing Nicky’s transformation, the physical and emotional changes she was undergoing. Elizabeth, with an idea sparking in her mind, suggested, “Let’s capture this moment. I want to take some photos of you, poses that I think are beautiful, and send them to my friends. Show them how far you’ve come.”

Nicky agreed, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and nervousness. Elizabeth directed her, positioning her in ways that highlighted her new femininity, her submission, her beauty. Each click of the camera was a step further into her new identity, an affirmation of her journey.

The photos were candid yet staged, showing Nicky in poses of grace, of contemplation, of submission. Some were sensual, others innocent in their vulnerability. Elizabeth, with a proud smile, sent the images to her circle, knowing this would stir curiosity, envy, or perhaps even admiration among those who understood the depth of this lifestyle.

This act was not just about showing off; it was about cementing Nicky’s new reality, giving her a visual testament to her transformation, something tangible amidst the psychological whirlwinds she navigated. With each photo, Elizabeth whispered encouragements, reinforcing the idea that this was not just a change but an evolution, one they were both part of, together yet in their own unique ways.

Elizabeth locked eyes with Nicky, her gaze intense yet filled with a new kind of honesty. “You know, about what we said to each other last night… after all the men left and I was alone, caressing my belly, I realized… I meant it!”

The words hit Nicky like a physical blow, the weight of them causing a moment of silence where only the sound of her breathing filled the room. Then, unexpectedly, her small penis began to stir, signaling arousal at Elizabeth’s confession.

Elizabeth’s face lit up, her smile broad and genuine. “Really? You got hard when I said that? My love, I’m so glad we can be so open and honest now.” She pulled Nicky by the hand, guiding her to sit on the bed beside her.

She reached out, taking Nicky’s hand and placing it on her own penis. “Come on, start playing with it while we talk,” she instructed, simultaneously slipping a finger into Nicky’s anus, a gesture both intimate and commanding.

“How much of an asshole was Nick, really?” Elizabeth asked, her tone probing, forcing Nicky to confront the past.

Nicky paused, the question stirring a complex mix of emotions. But she followed Elizabeth’s lead, her voice tinged with disdain for her former self. “He was a real asshole.”

Elizabeth’s finger moved in sync with Nicky’s hand, each movement stoking the flames of their conversation. “He was weak, wasn’t he? Clinging to what he thought he should be, not what he truly was.”

“Yes,” Nicky breathed out, her arousal growing as she spoke, the admission of Nick’s folly somehow cathartic. “He was so blind to what we needed, what we could be.”

“And you know,” Elizabeth whispered, her voice almost hypnotic, “that asshole Nick would never have understood this, this freedom we’ve found.”

Nicky’s strokes became more urgent, the conversation driving her deeper into a state of arousal she couldn’t deny. “He was too caught up in his own self-importance to see the beauty in submission.”

Elizabeth’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “But you, Nicky, you’ve embraced it. You’ve embraced us. Do you feel that?”

“Yes,” Nicky gasped, her mind on the brink, her body responding to the contrast between past and present.

“And now, as Nicky,” Elizabeth said, shifting the focus, “you’re free from that asshole. You’re living your truth.”

“Yes,” Nicky gasped, her movements now desperate, the conversation peeling back layers of her identity, revealing the raw, submissive core she had embraced.

“And you love this, don’t you?” Elizabeth’s voice was triumphant, filled with a mix of affection and dominance. “You love being my Nicky, my little pet.”

“I do!” The admission was like breaking through a dam, her body responding to the truth of her words, to the pleasure of Elizabeth’s manipulation.

“Show me,” Elizabeth commanded, her finger now thrusting in rhythm with Nicky’s strokes. “Show me how much you love this new life.”

With a cry that was part pleasure, part liberation, Nicky climaxed, her orgasm powerful, a physical testament to her psychological surrender. Her body shuddered, the intensity of her release echoing in the quiet room, a symbol of her acceptance, her transformation, and the profound bond she now shared with Elizabeth.

Elizabeth, with a mocking tone, remarked, “God, look how little and thin your cum is. What you licked off the floor earlier was more substantial!”

Nicky continued to climax, her body responding to Elizabeth’s words, each one a catalyst for her release.

“The treatment is doing wonders, isn’t it?” Elizabeth said, her voice laced with a mix of pride and cruelty.

Nicky, still trembling from her orgasm, managed a nod, her voice weak but filled with a strange satisfaction. “It’s changing me… into what you want.”

Elizabeth leaned closer, her finger still inside Nicky, her other hand now caressing her cheek. “And what I want,” she whispered, “is you to be perfect for us, for this life. Do you feel how different you are now, how much more you can give?”

“Yes,” Nicky gasped, the sensations overwhelming, the conversation a blend of degradation and affirmation. “I’m giving everything now.”

“And you’ll give more,” Elizabeth continued, her touch both soothing and stimulating. “You’ll learn to love this, to crave it, to be grateful for every drop.”

Nicky’s eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure mingling with the humiliation in a heady mix. “I already do,” she confessed, her voice a whisper of submission.

Elizabeth smiled, pulling her finger out slowly, her eyes never leaving Nicky’s. “Good girl. Remember this feeling, this moment. It’s who you are now. No more of that asshole Nick. Just you, Nicky, my sweet, obedient pet.”

They shared a moment of silence, the air thick with the scent of sex and the weight of their words, before Elizabeth kissed her gently on the forehead, sealing their new reality with a gesture of affection. The scene closed with them entwined, the conversation fading into the background as they embraced the profound shift in their relationship, in their very identities.

The midday sun cast warm, golden light into the dining room of the villa, where the Dominant had set the table, an act of domesticity that belied his commanding presence. As Elizabeth and Nicky joined him, the conversation took a turn that would further shape Nicky’s transformation.

The Dominant, his voice measured yet authoritative, began, “We need to start considering some alterations to Nicky’s appearance. It’s time we refine her image.”

Elizabeth’s eyes lit up, her enthusiasm barely contained. “I always wanted to go shopping with a little girl. I never imagined it would be you, though.”

The Dominant, always careful with his words, cautioned, “Let’s avoid excesses. We want her hair short and straight, boyish as I say. No bras for now; her breasts haven’t developed enough, and we need to emphasize that growth to our guests. The skin there is very sensitive due to the treatment.”

He then directed his attention to Elizabeth, giving her a shopping mandate for the future. “Tight pants are a must, to show how much her penis has shrunk. For makeup, keep it subtle. Just eyeliner and a lipstick a shade darker than her natural color.”

Nicky listened, a mix of anticipation and apprehension swirling within her. The idea of being molded further into this new identity was both thrilling and intimidating.

The Dominant continued, “This afternoon, our doctor will come to the villa to administer small doses of hyaluronic acid to her lips. We want them to be more desirable to our guests.”

Elizabeth nodded, her smile wide with the prospect of guiding Nicky through this new phase. “Oh, it will be like dressing up a doll, but one that’s alive with her own desires and submission.”

Nicky, feeling the weight of their plans, spoke up, her voice a blend of submission and curiosity. “How far will this go? How much will I change?”

The Dominant looked at her with a gaze that seemed to see through to her core. “As far as it needs to, to make you perfect for our world. You’ll see, each change is a step towards embracing who you’re meant to be. It’s not just about looks; it’s about embodying your submission.”

Elizabeth reached out, squeezing Nicky’s hand reassuringly. “We’ll do this together. It’s going to be an adventure, one where you’ll discover parts of yourself you never knew existed.”

The conversation paused as they began to eat, the air filled with the promise of transformation, each bite of food a step closer to the afternoon’s appointment with the doctor, and beyond that, a future where Nicky would be sculpted into the image of perfection her Dominant envisioned, a journey of submission, identity, and the blurring lines between who she was and who she would become.

That very afternoon, Elizabeth grabbed the Dominant’s credit card, and they headed to the city center for shopping. Before setting out, Elizabeth visited Nicky in her room. With a conversation aimed at easing into the mood of the day, they decided Nicky should wear women’s underwear beneath her jeans. However, since the revelation had only happened hours earlier, Nicky had none of her own.

Elizabeth, with a mischievous grin, said, “I have something.” She removed her own string, which was still soaked from the night’s activities. “Try mine. It’s full of cum from last night, but I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Walking around all day with so much fluid inside me, it’s dripped down and stained, but you would have faced the same issue.”

Nicky paused, then nodded in agreement. “See…? We’re girls now; there’s nothing to fear.” With that, Elizabeth helped Nicky out of her pants and into the soiled underwear, the act symbolic of their shared journey. “Tonight, we have more guests,” Elizabeth continued, her voice playful yet serious. “The Dominant wants to make sure, he told me, so there’ll be others to… fill us.” Nicky smiled, the idea both daunting and thrilling.

Once at the mall, they deliberately entered women’s lingerie stores, drawing curious and sometimes puzzled looks from other customers and sales associates. To the outside world, this was still Nick, making the situation all the more intriguing.

In one boutique, they ducked into a fitting room together, Elizabeth guiding Nicky with the excitement of a mentor. They tried on various pieces of women’s clothing and underwear. Elizabeth would snap photos, sending them to the Dominant for approval or rejection.

In one scene, Nicky stood awkwardly in a lace bralette and matching high-waisted panties, her discomfort evident but also her willingness to please. Elizabeth, with her phone, captured the moment, sending the image with a caption, “First steps into lace?” The response was quick, a simple “Approved” with a note to try something with less coverage.

Another moment had Nicky in a silk slip, the material clinging to her form, accentuating her budding femininity. Elizabeth, laughing lightly, adjusted the straps, ensuring the slip fell just right. She took a photo from behind, showing the curve of Nicky’s now-enhanced buttocks, captioned, “Silk suits her.” The Dominant’s reply was, “Very good. But remember, subtlety in public.”

They then tried a pair of tight, high-rise jeans, the kind that would show off how little Nicky had left to show. The discomfort was palpable as they squeezed into them, but Elizabeth was ecstatic, taking a photo of the front, the jeans leaving nothing to the imagination. “Look at you, almost disappearing,” she teased, sending the image. The response was, “Perfect for the guests to see.”

Throughout this, Elizabeth’s comments were a mix of encouragement and teasing, pushing Nicky further into her role. “You’re doing wonderfully, embracing this part of you,” she’d say, or, “Imagine how jealous they’ll all be when they see you in these.”

The shopping trip was not just about acquiring new clothes but about transforming Nicky in the eyes of others, a public display of her private journey, each piece of clothing a step further into her new identity, each photo a testament to her submission and the Dominant’s control over her transformation.

Later that evening, the doctor arrived to administer the hyaluronic acid to Nicky’s lips. The doses were so minute that no blood vessels were compromised, considering they expected company later. Her lips plumped just enough to enhance her facial symmetry, a subtle change that spoke volumes about her ongoing transformation.

Next came two hairdressers and a makeup artist, all women who were unaware of Nicky’s identity until they entered the room. Their surprise was evident when they saw Elizabeth preparing with a young man. This, too, was part of the plan.

Elizabeth, with an air of nonchalance, began to explain, “This is Nick, but he’s in transition. And I’m trying to get pregnant.” The critical looks from the two women shifted to curiosity, especially as Elizabeth detailed Nicky’s physical changes, “Her breasts are growing, and her features are becoming softer.”

When Elizabeth revealed that Nicky was a submissive serving their guests, the questions started to flow, filling the room with intrigue and gossip.

One of the hairdressers, while beginning to cut Nicky’s hair into a short, boyish style, asked, “So, she serves… like, how does that work exactly?”

Elizabeth, with a knowing smile, replied, “She’s here to please, to submit, to learn her place in our world. It’s about control, about giving oneself completely.”

The makeup artist, applying the eyeliner with precision, chimed in, “And you’re okay with this, Nick… I mean, Nicky?”

Nicky, her voice soft but steady, answered, “Yes. It’s who I am now. I find peace in it.”

The other hairdresser, now styling Nicky’s hair, couldn’t help but comment, “It’s fascinating, really. And you, trying for a baby amidst all this?”

Elizabeth laughed lightly, “Life’s complexities, right? But yes, it’s all part of the journey, of our shared evolution.”

As they worked on Nicky’s appearance, the conversation took on a more personal tone, typical of women getting ready together. “You know,” Elizabeth said to Nicky, “all the girls, when they’re in the bathroom or getting ready for the night, they share everything. You’ll learn that too.”

The questions kept coming from the women. “Does she enjoy it, this submission?” one asked.

“More than you’d think,” Elizabeth replied, her pride in Nicky evident. “It’s her path to self-discovery, to finding her true self.”

“And what about when you’re out in public? How do you manage then?” the makeup artist inquired.

“We’re careful,” Elizabeth explained. “But tonight is about embracing who we are, in front of those who understand.”

Nicky listened, absorbing the normalcy of this discussion, feeling a sense of belonging in this unusual scenario. The women, initially shocked, now seemed to find a strange admiration in the story, their questions less about judgment and more about understanding the dynamics at play.

As they finished up, ensuring Nicky looked both appealing and appropriately subtle for the evening’s events, the atmosphere was one of camaraderie, of shared secrets among women, with Nicky being initiated into this world of candid talks and mutual support, even if her role was vastly different from theirs.

At 9:00 PM, the evening’s events were set to commence. Elizabeth and Nicky, hand in hand, entered the room at precisely 9:05. The door opened to reveal a large, round, low bed, around which stood approximately ten men, different from those of the previous night. In the center, the Dominant sat on a throne-like armchair, his presence commanding the room.

He rose and approached the two, his voice low yet clear, “Tonight, I’ve ensured the men are different to maximize our chances of Elizabeth getting pregnant. It’s something we all eagerly anticipate.”

Elizabeth, her enthusiasm palpable, exclaimed, “Perfect!” at the thought of all these men being there for her.

Turning his attention to Nicky, the Dominant continued, “You, tonight, will have a purely supportive role. You’ll prepare and pleasure these men, but none will release inside you. All the semen must be saved for Elizabeth. When someone finishes inside her, you’ll gently lick her to soothe her, then blow hard into her to keep the semen high in her womb.” Nicky nodded in understanding, ready to fulfill her role.

The preparation began with Nicky moving from man to man, her actions both nurturing and seductive. She used her mouth, her hands, ensuring each was ready, their arousal evident, but her own pleasure was not the focus. Her service was a display of submission, her actions careful not to lead to any premature release.

Then came the ceremony of conception. Each man took his turn with Elizabeth, the room filled with the sounds of their union. Elizabeth, positioned on the bed, was the center of attention, her body a vessel for their collective desire. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, each act viewed almost as a sacred ritual to the goal of conception.

After each man climaxed inside Elizabeth, Nicky would immediately move in. Her tongue was gentle, providing comfort to Elizabeth’s sensitive areas, her breath a warm, forceful push intended to aid in conception. This act was intimate, a testament to their bond, both in their roles of submission and in the journey they shared.

From his throne, the Dominant watched, occasionally giving instructions or praise. His presence was both that of a leader and a participant, his commands setting the pace and ensuring the night’s purpose was not forgotten amidst the ecstasy.

Between these acts, there were moments where Elizabeth would reach for Nicky’s hand, a silent communication of gratitude and connection. These small gestures spoke volumes of their relationship, transcending the physical acts they were part of.

The collective anticipation was palpable among the men, though diverse, sharing a common goal, their actions synchronized by the Dominant’s will. There was a sense of community, of shared purpose, in this unusual gathering.

As the night wore on, the energy shifted from fervent activity to a quieter, more reflective mood. Elizabeth, now lying with her legs elevated to aid conception, and Nicky, curled beside her, provided comfort. The men, having fulfilled their roles, lounged or conversed in low tones, the room now carrying the scent of sex, anticipation, and the promise of new life.

This night was not just about the act of conception but about weaving together the threads of submission, community, and the profound transformation of both Elizabeth and Nicky, under the watchful, guiding eye of their Dominant.

The days following were filled with men from their exclusive club visiting, each engaging with both Elizabeth and Nicky, though usually finishing inside Elizabeth. Her diet was meticulously planned, and the daily medication to aid conception was non-negotiable.

The night set for the pregnancy test arrived, and the Dominant had prepared a special dinner within the villa for the three of them. They were seated at the table, the atmosphere charged with anticipation.

The Dominant, with an air of ritual, asked, “Elizabeth, do you have the test with you, as I requested?”

“Yes,” she replied, her voice steady but with a hint of excitement.

“Then lower your underwear, take an empty glass, and urinate in it,” he instructed. Elizabeth complied, moving with purpose. Once she had filled the glass, he continued, “Now, place the test inside. I want a definitive result.”

Without hesitation, Elizabeth inserted the test into the glass, the tension in the room palpable as they waited for the outcome.

The Dominant stood up ceremonially, approached the glass, and after a moment, his face broke into a smile. He then topped off the glass with champagne, mixing the urine with the sparkling liquid. Returning to Elizabeth and Nicky, he handed the glass to Nicky, raised his own, and proposed a toast.

“Well?” Elizabeth asked, her voice trembling with hope.

The Dominant leaned in close, his eyes meeting hers as he handed the glass to Nicky. “I hope this time you’ll be a good mother! Bottoms Up!” And with those words, he urged Nicky to drink the contents of her glass in one gulp. Elizabeth burst into celebrations as Nicky complied, the mix of urine and champagne a bizarre but symbolic drink.

“This time, we’ll raise a proper child, whether it’s a boy or a girl. No more assholes,” the Dominant declared, his gaze critical yet celebratory as he looked at Nicky.

“No more assholes,” Nicky echoed, her smile wide, embracing the moment, the toast, and the profound shift their lives were about to undergo with this confirmation of pregnancy.

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around both the Dominant and Nicky in a warm, celebratory embrace. The Dominant, still in high spirits, gave a new command to Nicky. “Nicky, take off your clothes and underwear, and lie down on the table.”

Nicky followed the directive without a second thought, her compliance a testament to her submission. Her body, now bare, lay across the dining table, the cool wood contrasting with the warmth of the moment.

“Elizabeth,” the Dominant spoke with a tone of both authority and affection, “I think we should give Nicky the chance to celebrate with us. After all, she played a crucial role in our success.” With those words, he gently parted Nicky’s buttocks, his eyes signaling Elizabeth to proceed with the test.

Elizabeth, understanding his intention, first licked the test for lubrication, then slowly inserted it into Nicky’s anus, the act both intimate and symbolic of their shared journey.

“Perfect,” the Dominant praised. “Now, Nicky, start playing with your little penis and celebrate with us.” He then turned to Elizabeth, “And you, Elizabeth, press on her balls as hard as you can to make it challenging for her.”

The scene was intense, with Nicky’s hands moving over her diminutive penis, her actions driven by the need to celebrate this significant moment. Elizabeth’s hands, firm and unyielding, pressed against Nicky’s testicles, adding a layer of pain to the pleasure, making the act of climaxing a test of endurance and submission.

Nicky’s breaths came in short gasps, the dual sensations of pleasure from her own touch and the pain from Elizabeth’s pressure creating a complex tapestry of feeling. Her body tensed, the struggle evident, but the anticipation of release was palpable in the room.

As Nicky neared her climax, the Dominant took the opportunity to delve into more profound questions, his voice cutting through the physicality of the moment. “Elizabeth, how does it feel to know you’re carrying life, a life shaped by our communal effort?”

Elizabeth, her hands still pressing, responded with a voice thick with emotion, “It’s overwhelming, empowering. We’ve created something beautiful out of our desires.”

Turning his gaze to Nicky, the Dominant asked, “And you, Nicky, do you feel pride in this, in what you’ve become, in your role here? Does the pain and the submission feel like a badge of honor now?”

Nicky, her voice strained yet clear, answered, “Yes, I am proud. This pain, this submission, it’s all part of who I am now, who I want to be.”

Nicky had not yet climaxed, her body tense under the dual sensations of pleasure and pain. The Dominant, sensing the moment, turned his attention to Elizabeth, his voice low and probing.

“Elizabeth, think about all the times Nick frustrated you, held you back from what you truly wanted. Let that anger fuel you now.” He encouraged her to press harder on Nicky’s testicles, his words igniting a fire within Elizabeth.

She complied, her grip tightening, her actions now laced with a mix of sexual excitement and exasperation. “He was always so… so limiting,” Elizabeth began, her words a cathartic release as she spoke of the past, of the constraints Nick had placed on her desires.

“That’s it, channel that frustration,” the Dominant urged, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched Elizabeth’s fingers dig into Nicky’s flesh, causing her to squirm and moan in a mixture of pain and arousal.

After several minutes of this charged conversation, Elizabeth was visibly aroused, her emotions a tempest of sexual energy and irritation. The Dominant then posed his question, one that would test her loyalty and desires.

“Perhaps it would be better to leave Nicky here and give you to another Master to live your life with? Nicky would be here whenever you want to see her, but I think she’s been quite a burden on your life.”

Elizabeth, her breath heavy from both the physical exertion and the emotional release, responded, “To be honest, it’s not a bad idea.”

The Dominant continued, his tone strategic, “I say this because I’ve already received two offers for you from some gentlemen. Both are from the group that filled you these past days, but I won’t reveal who. I’ll choose for you. They want to take you as their wife, to raise the baby with them – away from Nicky. As I said, you can visit her here whenever you want. I think you’ve tormented yourself enough with this situation. You’ll be in good hands. And she’ll serve both men and women until we decide to release her. When that happens, I promise she’ll have a good fate.”

Elizabeth considered this, her thoughts a whirlwind. The idea of a new life, of being cherished and directed by a new Dominant, was tempting. Yet, there was a bond with Nicky, a shared journey that couldn’t be easily dismissed.

Nicky, through the pain, listened, her own climax still elusive, her body and mind caught in the complex web of their relationships, her future hanging on the words spoken in this moment.

“Please, no…” Nicky whispered, her voice barely audible over the tension in the room.

“Shut up,” Elizabeth snapped back, her voice sharp with years of pent-up frustration. “I’ve lost so many years because of you. The Dominant is right. At this age, I have the chance to start anew, especially with a baby in my belly, in the hands of a Master who will take care of me.” With these words, she squeezed Nicky’s testicles even harder, her actions reflecting her resolve.

The Dominant, his voice both soothing and commanding, interjected, “It’s a real opportunity that can’t wait. Elizabeth, think seriously about your answer. It’s about your future. Nicky’s future… you see it. She’ll be an eternal servant. She’ll stay here, and she’ll be happy. When she grows older, we’ll reward her generously and get another. She won’t have any complaints, so don’t feel guilty about your choice.”

Nicky, writhing under the pain, her climax still elusive, pleaded again, “But I love you, I need you…”

Elizabeth, her voice now rising with a mix of anger and liberation, retorted, “Love? What has love given me but chains? I want freedom, I want to be cherished, not just needed!”

The Dominant, seizing the moment, pushed further, “Elizabeth, feel the power in your decision. You’ve been under the shadow of Nick for too long. Now, you can step into the light, with someone who will see you as you are, not as you were forced to be.”

Elizabeth, her eyes blazing with a newfound clarity, looked down at Nicky. “Look at you, so pathetic, so dependent. I’ve carried you, literally and figuratively. It’s time I carry only my child, my future.”

Nicky, tears mixing with the pain, gasped, “I’ll change, I’ll be better…”

The Dominant laughed, a sound both cruel and freeing. “Change? You’ve already changed into this… this creature. But Elizabeth, you can evolve beyond this, beyond him.”

Elizabeth, her hands still punishing Nicky, spoke with a finality that seemed to echo through the room, “I choose myself, my future, my freedom. I choose to leave this part of my life behind.”

The Dominant, satisfied with the outcome, leaned close to Nicky’s ear, his voice a whisper of doom, “And you, you’ll serve, you’ll learn, you’ll become whatever we decide. But remember this moment, remember when your world shifted, and not for you.”

“To validate this agreement and ensure Nicky has no right to refuse or spoil your new beginning, you must make her climax. Whatever she says, her body will speak for her in this choice!” The Dominant instructed Elizabeth with an authoritative tone. “Take the test out of her ass, use your finger, and work her little penis. If you make her finish – your life changes immediately.”

Elizabeth, empowered by the Dominant’s words, removed the test from Nicky with a swift motion, causing a gasp that mixed pain with a strange anticipation. She then inserted her finger into Nicky, her movements both punishing and precise, aiming to elicit the response needed to seal this new chapter.

Nicky, caught between the intense sensations and the emotional turmoil, tried to protest, “This isn’t what I want… I…”

But Elizabeth cut her off, her voice firm, “Your wants are no longer relevant. This is about what’s best for me, for us.” Her hand moved with purpose, her finger probing deeply, while her other hand began to stroke Nicky’s small penis with a skilled, almost cruel precision.

The Dominant watched, his presence a silent force, reinforcing the gravity of the moment. “This is your submission, Nicky. Your body will betray your protests,” he said, his voice a low, commanding whisper.

Nicky’s body, despite her protests, began to respond. The physical stimulation, combined with the psychological weight of the situation, pushed her towards the edge. Her breaths became more labored, her protests weaker, replaced by moans of conflicted pleasure.

Elizabeth, sensing the climax approaching, intensified her efforts, her voice now a mix of triumph and farewell. “Come on, Nicky, let go. Let your body make the decision for you.”

And then, with a cry that was part agony, part ecstasy, Nicky climaxed, her body trembling, her release a physical manifestation of her submission to this new reality. The room was silent for a moment, only the sound of her heavy breathing filling the space, a stark contrast to the quiet before.

The Dominant nodded, a look of satisfaction crossing his face. “It’s done. Elizabeth, your new life starts now. Nicky, you’ve sealed your fate in this house, serving until we decide otherwise.”

Elizabeth withdrew her hands, standing up with a sense of liberation, her decision now irrevocably made. She looked at Nicky, not with hatred but with a complex blend of pity and relief. “Goodbye, Nick. Hello, to my new life,” she said, the words a declaration of her newfound independence. With a gesture of disdain, she flicked the thin, watery semen off her hands back onto Nicky, showing her disgust, making it clear she no longer wanted any part of him on her, symbolizing her rejection of their past.

Nicky, left on the table, her body still buzzing from the forced climax, understood the depth of what had just transpired. Her life, her identity, was now truly in the hands of others, her submission complete.

The Dominant, with one last look at the scene he had orchestrated, left the room, leaving behind the echoes of a life changed, a bond broken, and the beginning of new paths for all involved.

Collar│Novel (Eng)

Chapter One – The Initiation of Submission

Chapter Two – The Collar of Submission

Chapter Three – The First Drink

Chapter Four – The Preparation

Chapter Five – The Doctor’s Visit

Chapter Six – The Public Revelation and Acceptance

Chapter Seven -Reflections of Change

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Collar│Novel (Eng)

Chapter One – The Initiation of Submission

Chapter Two – The Collar of Submission

Chapter Three – The First Drink

Chapter Four – The Preparation

Chapter Five – The Doctor’s Visit

Chapter Six – The Public Revelation and Acceptance

Chapter Seven -Reflections of Change

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