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Subject: {ASSM}  A Place of her Own by Vickie Tern 6/10 TG F/m Femdom
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{VickieTern} NEW TG: A Place of Her Own 6/10, F/m, M/M etc, femdom

This story depicts sexual activity of various sorts among consenting
if sometimes also credulous and deceived adults.  If you are not a
consenting adult don't read it, no matter how credulous or deceived.
It's not for you.  Not yet.







Now and then when the elevator door opened there were two of them,
Tracy and one or another woman friend.  They'd both ignore me and
step past me and go into Tracy's apartment together.  Then
sometimes I was ordered to follow after, sometimes not.  If I
followed, I knew I would be spending the evening licking two
pussies until one crotch seemed very much like the other, while
above me they caressed each others' nipples and kissed each other
passionately.  I was absolutely forbidden to speak during these
sessions, and when I was finally given permission to leave I was
forbidden to notice whether her friends stayed on through the night
or not.  Sometimes they did.  I never knew their names.

I once asked Tracy timorously if she sometimes came home with men
during the week.  She looked at me amused and told me that we both
would, sooner or later.  From then on whenever the elevator door
opened I felt apprehensive.

Once she called me into her apartment I never knew what to expect. 
She wanted me naked, she explained, so I'd feel helpless and
vulnerable, utterly subject to any of her moods, and also
incidentally so she could follow my progress as her hormone regimen
smoothed my skin and rounded my body.  She was amused to detect
lumps immediately behind my painfully sensitive nipples when those
glands first began to multiply themselves, widening and thrusting
out my areola.  "Only three weeks in, and you already have the
pouty tits of a teeny bopper," she said.  "It's a natural talent! 
Don't worry about the shape of your nipples or their sensitivity,
Andy.  When your breasts come in those pointy nipples will level
into the soft tissue behind them.  And their feel when you caress
them will drive you wild!"  She noticed even before I did that my
buttocks were filling in and rounding out, and she took to calling
me affectionately "bubble butt."    

Our sex on weekdays was a matter of strict subservience.  "I like
to be in charge, Amy," she explained to me one weekend, when we
were speaking together as equals.  "I love topping women or men,
but especially partial men or women who feel incomplete because
they aren't the other.  I want to teach the irreducible Andy in you
utter submission, subservience and obedience not only to me but to
any dominant.  To you, Amy, so he'll know for the rest of his life
who's in charge, that he's nothing without you, that he must
consult and obey and please you in all things. He needs to learn to
love obedience to Amy, to crave it, to feel unfulfilled without it. 
I'd whip him into it, but I'm quite sure he'll never kiss the whip
-- he doesn't love pain.  Nor even tolerate it.  He doesn't even
value it enough to offer me his pain as a gift.  So it isn't fair
to you for me to whip him.  But he's easy to train in other ways. 
And you're both learning how deeply satisfying it can be to please
me, aren't you?"

She couldn't humiliate Andy by dressing him as a woman, obviously. 
So she exhibited him as her submissive sex slave to her women
friends. Often she would sit and watch television with her legs
apart and her pussy fully exposed, while I knelt before her on my
knees with my back to the tube, staring raptly at her slit,
studying its every fold and crevice and moist gleam from only a
foot away.  It was like being in church.  One of her friends
marveled at my self-restraint.  "He wants to dive into you, doesn't
he," she'd say.  "Your Mr. Tits can barely resist eating Miss
Pussy."  Tracy told me to meditate on her friend's crotch the same
way, and I watched fascinated while she spread her twat wide opened
and fingered herself, her juices running onto her fingers.  "Don't
you wish you had one of these, feebledick?" that one taunted me
between gasps.  I did begin to wonder what it would be like.  When
she offered me a finger, I licked the juice off it gratefully.

My reward for such perfect obedience was to be allowed to smooch
their slits once, using plenty of tongue.  Sometimes I was allowed
to dive in and lick them outright.  Once I had to watch wistfully
while they reclined together on the couch, their video program
forgotten, and ate each other out.  "Feeling jealous?" Tracy asked
me, lifting her face from between the other woman's legs and
looking at me with a grin.  "If you had one of these you could be
here with me!"

Another time a woman wanted to use me as a kind of toilet when she
saw how I'd obey anything Tracy ordered.  It wasn't easy to obey
her at first, and it took several visits before I learned to enjoy
it, even to look forward to it.  Then she stopped coming
altogether.  When I asked Tracy why she shrugged.  "When I saw your
eyes light up the last time you saw her, I knew she had nothing
more to teach you.  Don't worry.  There'll always be other women
who'll want to use you that way.  No doubt some men too.  And when
you're Amy, altogether your own woman and accustomed to topping
others, and you want to impress your superiority on them utterly,
you can order other men to serve you as your toilet. They'll do it. 
Trust me!"

Often she'd tease and terrify me by talking about sex with men. 
"You can't commit to a full lesbian relationship with me or anyone
else, if you mean to end up lez, until you know what you're
missing," she said as she installed a butt plug in my rump and made
me promise to wear it all the time, awake or asleep, excepting only
when I moved my bowels or opened my anus to her dildo.  I wore it
thereafter whenever I entered and made love to her, and clamping
down on it when I went into an orgasmic spasm made for a whole
separate experience, as if I were the one being fucked and my ass
was milking a cock.  Then she installed wider butt plugs in me,
shaped and veined like pricks.  Then one glorious evening a fat,
long, strap dildo that reached deep into my vitals as she stroked
it in and out of me.  "Face me, your legs on my shoulders," she'd
instructed me.  "And look into my face gratefully and lovingly the
whole time I'm penetrating you.  And whenever I fuck you, I want to
see intense gratified desire."  I looked tenderly at her, then as
sensation began to build I felt deep affection, and she saw that. 
When she came, I came, and nearly passed out.  

I wasn't surprised when a week of so later it one of her friends
used that same monster dildo to fuck me doggy style.  It felt so
wonderful by then that I could only grunt.  I was becoming such a
fuck slut!  I grew so accustomed to "anal orgasms" as Tracy called
them that she tried an experiment.  While I was humping her she
reached around and removed my "little lover" as she called it from
my rear end.  My face expressed such emptiness and deprivation that
she burst out laughing and immediately plunged two fingers into me. 
I spasmed marvelously on them.  

"Oooh, are you ever ready to lose your virginity!" she commented
afterward.  "I just need to decide who with, and how it can be an
especially beautiful moment in your life, one you'll treasure!  If
you were only Andy I'd send you into the street for a week.  But
then when you came back you'd think of your mouth and ass as sewer
openings, not as a treasured receptacles.  I want Amy to remember
her first real fuck with affection.  I want Amy to know that sex
with a man you love can be gloriously romantic, even sublime." 

I always cooked dinner for the two of us, five nights each week. 
Sometimes she ate what I prepared and sometimes she ignored it and
I dined alone.  "Your pleasure should be in anticipating my
pleasure," she explained, "whether or not I accept whatever you're
offering me."  She was always sternly critical of my slightest
lapses.  A lumpy Hollandaise aroused fury. Yet once when I spent
all day preparing a Roast Duck in Cherries and by chance she
allowed me to serve her, her first bite was so satisfying she
couldn't repress making ecstatic noises.  Then looking directly at
me she sat forward on her chair and shifted her weight to spread
her legs wide apart.  I needed no further instruction.  I set down
my fork and dove under the table.  Then for the rest of the meal
while she was mouthing and exclaiming over my sauces, I was licking
the sauce on the inside edges of her pussy slit.  That was sheer
joy.  

I realized I was becoming very much the girl Tracy wanted, eager to
become even mores.

I went back to CurlyGirly for my weekly appointments, for
electrolysis, laser, and wax treatments and touch ups on my makeup
and hairdo, and each week came back smoother.  One week I decided
to take my own look into my own hands and get a tight perm and a
no-care curly cap of hair instead of the curved-down-the-neck
straight hair Trish had thought best for me.  I usually pinned it
up, but it was always a bother to remove the pins so they wouldn't
scratch Tracy's or her friends' thighs whenever I burrowed between
them.  Janie wouldn't do it.  "Believe me, dear, you need to fuss
a little," she said.  "It's a bother, looking pretty.  But men love
long hair.  And I know your wife wants you looking romantic,
swoony."

"I'm not married any more," I told Janie.  "And I don't date men."

"Well, we'll see," Janie said non-commitally.  "For a divorced
professional woman you're making excellent progress, honey."      

One morning a few months later I was feeling sweetly tranquil,
sitting with my feet up on the couch in my living room, wearing
only panties with a matching bra to support the cute new little
tits that were coming along so nicely, wondering when they'd feel
less sensitive, working out a flow-chart problem for a chemical
plant, when the phone rang.  I reached for it and absently said
"Hello?" in my breathy flute voice, Amy's.

"Amy?  Trish.  You remember, Trish, don't you honey?  Your ex? 
It's been a while!  You sound so genuine!  How *are* you, lover?"

At that moment I wasn't sure.  My hand shook a little.  "I'm fine
Trish.  Couldn't be better.  Wouldn't know how.  How are you?"  End
the conversation, I told myself.  I don't want to share me with
her.  Not after what she's done.

"Oh, I'm terribly busy, it's worse than I'd anticipated, but it's
also so exciting!  So many new things to get on top of. This new
client's work is more demanding than any of us had expected.  Apart
from all the involved partners I now have a huge crew working with
me full time, and two more Associates signing on soon.  They put in
seventy to ninety hour weeks, travel often, and complain all the
time.  But the jobs do get done.  The wives with no children got
together once to protest to me how they felt deprived of male
company, as they put it.  So I got together with them one night at
a hotel retreat to point our how they could organize sleepovers as
if they were still teenagers, and then they wouldn't at all mind
their husbands' absences, and wouldn't feel at all deprived.  They
did just that.  I mixed a couple of pros into the social events
that weekend, males and females, and they made themselves
attractive.  Now some of them don't care who they're sleeping with,
another wife, their husband, or someone else's.  Wives no longer
feel deprived -- problem solved.  I love it, that I'm so good at
what I do!"

"That's nice."  There was a pause.  I didn't want to be reminded
how easily she played tunes on other people.  Then I asked her "Do
you still use my boudoir as a reading room?"  Stupid!  Almost like
asking her "What are you wearing now?"  An invitation to reminisce
about intimacies!  Practically an invitation to phone sex!

"O yes, honey, whenever I'm home.  Always on weekends. I'm in it
now!  It's so peaceful.  So very feminine.  It reminds me of your
gentleness and daintiness, so many things missing from my life
these days.  I never take men here.  Well, maybe to the living room
for a drink and then the bedroom for a quickie, but that's about
it.  I miss you."

"Tricia, you dumped me!"

"Now that's not fair.  I offered you what you wanted and you
accepted it!  You just hadn't thought it all through!  Isn't that
so?  Just answer me this, are you better off now than you were six
months ago?  Are you happier?"

I was.  I was no longer a divided self, a standard visible male and
also a secret shamed crossdresser.  I was now a whole person, or
rather two new people really, a capable and companionable
professional woman on weekends, and an eager submissive slave
during the week.  I loved being both.  They captured for me the
pride and submissiveness of my former male self, and yet also the
sociability of my femme personality, my desire to please and
nurture.  I did what I wanted to do out in the open.  Men smiled at
me often, and women all the time.  The world felt like my family. 
I had Tracy to try to please, and my own delight when I succeeded. 
It was nothing like before, trying to live like a male, competent
and always challenged, and yet trying to be sweet and loving and
womanly too.

But I didn't answer her.  Why give her the satisfaction?

"Poor baby, you know you are.  Look, honey, I have some open time
this coming Saturday.  Shall we meet at the house, say around
three?  Just drive on in, I'll be expecting you.  If I'm not there
when you get there, do you still have a key?  Of course you do. 
Honey, I'm dying to see you.  Plan to stay an hour at least, longer
if possible.  I have something on in the evening, so not much more
than that, but it'll be wonderful to see you!  Bye."

And that was that!  The dial tone.  No time to ask her what for! 

Tracy wasn't concerned when I told her that one of our usual
Saturday afternoons together would have to be postponed.  "That's
all right, Amy baby.  I have someone I need to see, new
arrangements to make.  But this isn't the weekend yet, and my
pussy's feeling lonely.  Why don't you make her feel better?  First
your mouth, and then you can enter her if you can still get it up. 
This time when you spasm be sure to squeeze your butt plug extra
hard.  Enjoy feeling your asshole spasm as if it were your penis."

I did.  The sweet joy I felt in my rear when I orgasmed was now
stronger than anything I ever felt in my cock.  I loved clamping
down on that firm, smooth, soft, jelly-filled yet stiff butt plug. 
My lover!  I wiggled my tush in anticipation!  It always felt as
though my ass was fucking my own cock, and that both were scumming
at once!

The route from Madison to "CurlyGirly" was thoroughly familiar to
me by now, but the next leg to my former home felt strange.  I
decided from sheer orneriness to dress down, to travel in Trish's
favorite unisex costume, jeans and a T-Shirt.  And on a wicked
impulse, to wear no bra.  Then when I checked myself in the mirror
as I was pleased to see I didn't look at all unisex -- my breasts
were still pointy and were obviously rounding out, and my jeans now
felt a little undersized.  

On impulse, though it made no sense, I decided I wanted to look
really pretty when Trish saw me.  So she'd be sorry she'd let me
go?  To make her jealous?  To try to attract her back?  I had no
idea!  I realized with a certain awe that my feelings were shifting
-- I wanted to look attractive to my former lover, and attractive
no longer meant manly, it meant womanly.  The hormones were
changing my brain?  

So I stopped at Janie's to get my hair done and my make-up and
nails redone, and I was very pleased with the result.  As I pulled
into our driveway -- hers now -- I realized that all any neighbors
would see now was a casually dressed well-groomed woman getting out
of her car.  Anyone who'd attended my going away party would assume
I was my sister.  That part of Trish's plan had certainly worked. 
Our respectability was secure.

Trish met me at the door, also wearing jeans, and gave me a quick
kiss.  Then as she led the way back to my former inner sanctum, she
commented, "You know honey, that's the first time in a long time
I've seen you relaxed enough about your gender to wear a pair of
jeans and a T-shirt.  You're getting enough femininity in at your
new location?  You no longer need to dress to kill all the time? 
Yet the rest of you looks gorgeous enough!"  She smiled at me. 
"You know, you're turning out to be a rather lovely girl.  I'd
hoped so."

I realized what she was saying.  "You're right.  I guess I don't
need to go all femmy whenever I can, any more.  Because now that's
what I am."  Then I decided to rub it in, and said, "But I'm always
a girl now, hon.  These are still women's jeans.  See?"  I pushed
my tush out at her and wiggled it ever so slightly to call
attention to the label -- they were Toni Tylers, and it showed the
Toni Tyler logo, a cute high-kicking girl burnt into a leather
label.

"So they are!" she said, a trace of wonder in her voice.  I turned
to look at her.  She was studying my rump, a little bemused.  "But
it isn't the label that makes a girl's jeans girls' jeans, honey,
it's the cut.  Narrow in the waist and big in the butt, with a
tight swoop under the half-moons to set off any melons a girl may
have managed to grow."  She looked up at me.  "You fill them out
nicely.  Those buns are very fetching indeed, lover!  What man
could resist burying his cock in there!  Weren't you a little
slimmer down there a few months ago?  No, I see that if anything
your waist is narrower than it had been."  

She grinned suddenly!  "You devil!" she said.  "You're going all
the way, aren't you!  You really are!  Hips and breasts!  Those are
real breasts!  They jiggle.  And did your nipples always poke out
that way?  You *love* your new life, don't you!  You can't get
enough of it!  You really are changing your body!  Well, Amy,
that's just wonderful!  I've really got to tell you as a kind of
big sister, though, that you shouldn't try to wear T-shirts without
a bra any more!  It's indecent!  Oh, I'm so happy this is working
out so well!"

She came close to me and almost woman to woman, kissed me on the
mouth softly, her full lips pressing on mine.  Then rather
shockingly she lifted a hand and felt me up!  "Yes," she said
almost somnolently, "there's no question about these."  She pulled
away, her face obviously pleased and a little mischievous.  "Amy,
just between us girls.  Have you had your first period yet?  Are
you a lady yet?"

I was embarrassed and decided I might have gone too far with my
dressed down, unisex presentation.  Or not far enough.  "I've been
getting a little rounder lately, yes," I said.  "It's nice.  More
appropriate for the way I live these days."

"I suppose it is, love," she said. "Your face is softer too.  It's
kind of sweet looking now."  She flashed me a delightful smile. 
Then dismissed the whole topic, frowned, burrowed down into her
lawyer personality, and began to deliver what I recognized was a
preconsidered speech!

"Honey, I'm delighted that you've adjusted to your new life so
quickly.  It does look as though I was right, that you've always
been more of a transsexual than a transvestite, that you really are
a woman in a man's body.  And now you're fixing that!"

"No, Tricia," I said.  She shouldn't feel too self-congratulatory. 
"I've always felt that I was a man who enjoyed being a woman, and
I'm enjoying it now more than ever.  I prefer being a woman.  So
I'm fixing my body to give the man in me extra satisfaction!"

"The man in you?  Aren't you cruel!  Andy's still in there
somewhere?  He must feel so humiliated!  So ashamed of his
ineffectual manhood!  Can he still get it up?  But you don't care,
do you?  Any more than I cared when I sent you on your way a little
faster than you'd intended?  Because I knew and now we both know
that your greatest satisfactions are not in being Andy?"

I couldn't reply.  Trish was the lawyer.  I'd never yet won an
argument with her.

"I'm glad that you're quite presentable.  Your consulting going
well too?  Good!  You know I'm sure that my rather abrupt treatment
of your feelings a few months ago was for your own good.  I had to
liberate you from your marriage.  And I did, didn't I?  You can't
possibly be carrying a grudge against me now, can you?"

She was beginning to steer me out of my former playroom, her
sitting room, and through the study and down the hall toward the
front door.  Giving me the executive's bum's rush. 

"No Trish.  I guess not."

"And you're sorry you resented me all these months?" 

I wouldn't grant her that.  "I'm sorry you betrayed me all those
years," I said.  "So my resentment was inevitable.  You know that!"

"Yes.  But I'm glad we're friends again.  Now I have something to
ask you.  Just this one question and I'll let you go."  Her tone
turned professional, inquiring.  "I haven't told you before, but
this manufacturer client of mine Magnum happens to have a major
plant in Madison.  Maybe you knew?  That's where Magnum's R&D is
conducted for new product lines.  Now, my law firm needs an outside
representative there we can call on from time to time, someone with
precisely your skills.  Able to talk to engineers or financial
people and show them easier ways to do things.  Someone pleasant to
talk to.  Persuasive too, if it comes to that."  

She paused.  I knew that whatever she said next was still part of
her pitch.  "I can't get over it!  You're so much nicer since you
stopped being that horse's ass Andy.  That coward!  He hid out from
his clients and did their work by e-mail and FAX so he could do
drag all day without being seen.  Remember?  But there's no need
for you to do that, honey.  You're entitled.  And you can be
impressive in person -- I've seen it.  You've got every
qualification we need, or will have I'm sure by the time we'll want
to call on your services.  So do you think you'll be willing?"

Suddenly and unexpectedly, as if on impulse, Trish placed each of
her hands on each of my bosoms.  My pointy tits.  And began gently
lifting and kneading them.  Slowly, so I could feel their weight in
her hands.  I hadn't realized they'd grown that much.  Her thumbs
went back and forth over my nipples and my knees grew weak.  I'd
not noticed they'd gotten so deliciously erogenous -- I'd been
thinking of them as sensitive, hurting.  But now they were me.  I
let out a moan.

"Yes," she said reflectively.  "Your breasts are coming on so well,
Amy.  You're just the girl for this job!"  She looked up into my
eyes and continued to stroke my nipples.  "We'll pay you a retainer
starting right now, and when you begin we'll provide you an
enormous budget for clothes and entertainment, because the
consultations will be informal, mostly.  Disguised as sociability. 
You'll smooth things over, straighten things out, unruffle
feathers, show people what they should have done in the first
place.  That's the work!  A lovely lady like you who's also a
clever engineer is what we need for this, exactly the right person
for the job.  Just think about it, baby.  You don't have to give me
an answer now.  I'll call you in another month or so.  Meanwhile
the retainer is yours, whatever you eventually decide.  It'll show
up in your bank account every week."  

I moaned again.  She absolutely beamed!  "I'll take that as a
'yes'!  You're as sweet as ever, Amy.  So helpless when the right
buttons get pushed.  Andy was always a tit person, and he still is
even though now he's on the other side of such a lovely pair!  I'm
so glad that we trust each other again, sweetheart."  

She led me out the front door and then stepped back into the house. 
Then it was as if a switch were being thrown somewhere.  "Honey,
it's been very nice seeing you.  I'm delighted you could visit.  Do
come again any time.  My regards to anyone we both know.  We'll
stay in touch."  And the door closed.

I was standing on the front steps in my jeans and T shirt and
gorgeously set hair, my purse somehow under my arm, my breast tips
radiating a rich afterglow.  I realized that Trish had always
intended this to be a business meeting, and I'd signed on to her
scheme.  Magnum had a plant and did their R&D in Madison?  Trish
had been coming and going there all this time?  She might have
looked me up at any time and had deliberately ignored me?  Once
again I'd been had!

                               vii.

I told Tracy about all of this the next day, Sunday, while we sat
in a little tea shop after seeing a movie together.  How I was
worried that Trish had enticed me into another trap.  She'd used my
transvestism to clear her decks of her marriage when she wanted to
invest her time and energy and desires elsewhere in other ways.  To
dump me out of her life and somehow leave me feeling grateful to
her.  Now she seems ready to use me to unload business problems she
can't manage by herself.  

Tracy's first reaction was amusement.  

"So your Trish is into tits too, huh?  Well, the way yours are
coming in, when she handed you off to me she missed out on a really
beautiful pair I'll bet, big time."  

Then she looked thoughtful.  "She asked you to consult for her law
firm?  To me that sounds promising.  It would get you out meeting
more people in more kinds of circumstances.  One of the pleasures
of being a woman is that you can be many things to many people in
different circumstances.  And dress differently for each!  There's
still too much of the imprisoned Amy in you.  She's right that you
don't need to be bottled up any more.  You can open an office now
and be seen by anyone.  Why don't you?  Who'd imagine that you're
not entitled to your panties and dresses?  And you know, she's
right about wearing a bra.  That's already settled.  You'll wear
one daily now for the rest of your life.  Look at you!  And more
titty is still on the way!" 

"She tends to take charge with me," I said.  "I'm sure I'd lose a
certain amount of independence."

"No, Amy, let's not forget, I'm in charge of you.  I'm the one
who's making you the way you are.  And I'll always allow you as
much independence as you wish."  She grinned complacently.  "You
just won't wish for any."



end 6/10  
(c) 1999 by Vickie Tern (VickieTern@AOL.COM, all comments welcomed)


VickieTern@AOL.COM


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