Little 'Miss' 

   I was dusting beneath the ottoman when the doorbell rang.  It only took
one little chime to send my pulse to racing and cause my heart to gallop in
my chest.  Usually, if I kept totally focused on what Mistress wanted,
everything would be okay.  However, unforeseen events, like doorbells for
instance, almost always spelled trouble.

   I hurried upstairs to find my Mistress and curtsied automatically as I
entered her room.  "Mistress, there is someone at the door."

   She stood with her back to me, stepping into a small black dress.  "You
think I don't know that," she said.  "Zip me bitch."

   I could feel myself grow aroused at the sight of her half naked body. 
'You're just the maid - you're just the maid', I repeated in my head.  I
zipped her dress and picked a stray piece of lint off her shoulder.

   "I want you to go let the guest in now Stacy and show her to the living
room.  It is going to be very important that you remember all your lessons.
As a matter of fact, you might say this is a KEY moment."

   My heart went beyond racing - it galloped, it pounded, it gonged at the
mention of a key.  THE KEY.  Yet through it all, I managed to keep my
expression neutral.  'Smiling and submissive, smiling and submissive,' I
repeated to myself.

   "You do you remember your lessons, don't you Stacy?"

   "Oh yes Mistress," I said, as I grabbed the hem of my short skirt,
lifted it, and curtsied deeply.  "Slut Stacy is happy to serve her
Mistress. Happy and eager, but she has such a hard time thinking.  It's
good she has such a kind, smart, and generous mistress to tell her what to
do."

   I batted my eyes, pointed my toes together in my tall high-heeled shoes,
giggled and licked my lips seductively.  There was an art to acting like
such a slutty bimbo, and it hadn't come easy, especially for me, but by now
it was second nature.

   "Very good Stacy.  See that you remember or I will send you off again."

   I fell to my knees and proceeded to lick her boots.  I worshipped them
with my tongue, begged her not to send me away, and meant it

   "Stop your sniveling slut," she said.  "Do something useful like
answering the door."

   My breasts had fallen out of their cups while I was down on the floor.
"Oh you naughty - naughty girls," I giggled, as I pushed my bosoms back
into their cups.  Mistress smiled knowingly, but didn't laugh.

   "That's my girl," Mistress said.  "And remember bitch, happy, eager, and
submissive."

   "Yes, Mistress." I said, smiling and curtsying.  How could I ever
forget?

   I hurried downstairs, opened the door, bowing as I did so.  "Welcome to
the Arlington residence. . .whoopsie daisy!" My breasts spilled out of the
low cup top just like always.  Of course I had to act surprised and stupid
about the whole thing.  I placed my hand over my nipples, and was just
about to go into my 'naughty girls, you know better than that routine, when
I glanced up at the visitor.  My mouth hung open and my heart missed a
beat, when I recognized the guest.  It was Stacy!  The real Stacy!  My real
Stacy.  I closed my eyes momentarily and concentrated.  God, this was bad.
Really fucking bad.  On a scale from one to ten, this was a fucking
thirteen.  'Happy Eager Submissive Bimbo Fuck Toy Happy Eager Submissive
Bimbo Fucktoy', I repeated in my mind.  'You are just the maid Stacy.  Only
the maid.'

   When I opened my eyes again, I was back in character.  "Mistress Amanda
will be down shortly, follow me to the living room . . .  I think it's this
way"

   "Thank you," she said, without a hint of recognition in her eyes.  I
could hear the amusement in her voice.

   I led her to the living room, knowing full well she was watching me
walk. I had practiced it often enough, and now it was second nature as I
brought my foot forward and stepped inside the other with every step -
rolling my hips as I did so.  It was a walk that would shame a prostitute
or exotic dancer.  To make matters worse, my uniform was so short that it
allowed whoever was behind me to see the cheeks of my bottom peek out with
every step.

   "Won't you have a seat Madame?" I asked, motioning her to the couch.

   She sat down gracefully, and I waited patiently by the door.  I did my
best not to look at her, tried to blend into the palm that was beside me. I
prayed she wouldn't notice me - wouldn't notice who I was.  I quivered
inside, trembling in fear, wondering what my Mistress had planned.

   Waiting was agony.  I was so anxious that sweat was rolling down my
arms. Thankfully, it wasn't but a few minutes before Amanda entered the
room.

   "Hello, Stacy, so nice of you to drop by," Amanda said, taking Stacy's
hands and clasping them, before sitting down next to her.

   "What is it exactly that you wanted to see me about?" Stacy asked,
unsure of herself, and letting the question hang.

   "Well Dearie, I've been so wrapped up in myself, you know, after Adam
disappeared, that I really didn't think about anyone else.  And then I felt
quite guilty about it when I realized you must be going through a lot of
grief yourself.  So I thought we could have a chat and maybe rest your mind
a bit."

   "Uh-what do you mean?" Stacy said.  Her voice trembled.

   "Dear, I know all about you and Adam.  There's nothing to worry about. I
don't have a problem with it."

   Stacy removed a hand from Amanda's grasp and pressed it to her breast.
"Whew," she said.  "Are you sure?  God, I about peed myself when you called
and asked me to come over here."

   Amanda patted Stacy on the knee, in mock consolation.  "Not at all dear.
I feel sorry for you in a way, because Adam never was much of a lover."

   My face burned as she continued.

   "But you do have to understand that I would be upset with my husband.  I
mean, he couldn't even satisfy the woman he had at home and there he was
flitting around like he was Mr.  Man or something."

   Amanda took a small bell from the table and rang it.  "Stacy," she said
to me.  "Be a dear and fetch us a glass of wine.  You know . . .  the red
stuff I keep in the special rack."

   "Yes, Mistress," I said, curtsying quickly before Stacy looked in my
direction.

   I was trembling as I poured the wine.  'Happy-Eager-Submissive-Fucktoy',
I repeated to try to still my shaking hands.  Things weren't looking good
for me, but Mistress had mentioned the key.  THE KEY.  I repeated my mantra
and forgot about Stacy and concentrated on the key.  I took a deep breath
and plastered a dumb smile on my face before I returned to the living room.

   Mistress Amanda took a glass of wine off the silver tray I carried and
gave the other to Stacy.  "Don't you think it's funny Stacy, how your name
is Stacy and my maid is also named Stacy."

   Oh God, here it was.  Might as well paint a target on my forehead.

   Stacy's brow wrinkled with uncertainty.  "I guess it could be funny, but
Stacy is a fairly popular name," Stacy said, looking at me as if for
support.  Her eyes saying, do you have put up with this often?

   If only she knew what I had to put up with.  This was nothing.

   "I think the similarity goes beyond names," said Amanda.  "Look closer,
the resemblance between you two is uncanny."

   Stacy looked at me closer this time.  She recognized why her eyes were
drawn to me before.  I looked like her.  Only while she was casually
dressed, I was dressed in a humiliating maid's outfit, my waist shrunk to
tiny proportions due to a restrictive corset, my breasts, the same size as
hers were thrust up, practically spilling out of my low-cut top.  She wore
more makeup, but while hers was almost unnoticeable, my lips were painted a
bright crimson and my eyelashes were so long they were clearly fake.

   "She does look a little like me," Stacy said dubiously.

   "A little?" Amanda said.  "I daresay you could have been sisters.  But
enough about family, let's talk about lovers." To me: "Speaking of lovers.
Stacy, why don't you go fetch your boyfriend and bring him here."

   Oh God, it was happening.  I curtsied, and saw Stacy head flash in my
direction.  I wondered if she had seen the glint of metal.  If she hadn't
she would soon enough.

   I went to the bedroom, opened up the trunk and got out my 'boyfriend'.
Amazing it could still make me blush.  It wasn't just the size, but the
shape.  Twelve inches long, so wide that I couldn't close my hand around
it. Flesh colored with realistic bumpy veins and a large bulbous head.  On
the side, written in pink magic marker, it said "Stacy's Cock." The irony
wasn't lost on me.  I went to the bathroom, took out the KY, and lubricated
my rear passage for whatever was in store. 
'Happy-eager-submissive-bimbo-fucktoy', I repeated as I went back to the
living room to face the consequences of my past life.

   When I came in the room with the strap-on dildo in my hands, Stacy's
eyes opened wide in shock and panic.

   "Don't worry dear," Amanda consoled her.  That's *my* Stacy's boyfriend,
and I don't think she wants to share, do you dear?"

   "Oh no Mistress," I said, falling into my role easily, as I had done so
many times before.  Always the same.  Always having to beg.  I begged even
when I used to hate it.  I begged even now, though it terrified me that I
was beginning to crave it.  "Oh please Mistress, Slut Stacy's pussy is so
horny.  Her little girl needs a good fucking.  Please Mistress, please fuck
Slut Stacy with her boyfriend."

   Mistress Amanda smiled wickedly.  "I don't believe you even like your
boyfriend.  Maybe we should give him to our guest Stacy?"

   "Oh no!  Slut Stacy loves her boyfriend." I kissed the head of the latex
cock.  I could taste the latex.  I used to hate it, but I didn't mind so
much now.  Next, I turned it to the side, pushed it in and out of my mouth,
knowing how much of a slut I looked like with the cock-head pushing through
the wall of my cheek.  I refused to look at Stacy.  I could only imagine
what was going through her mind.

   Mistress stood up and turned around.  She spread her legs slightly and
stuck out her arse.  "Beg for it," she said.

   I fell to my knees.  I pulled down her panties with my teeth.  While she
stood there holding the hem of her skirt up, I pushed apart the cheeks of
her bottom and planted a kiss of respect on her arsehole.  I nibbled
lightly at her pucker and flicked my tongue across it lightly.

   "I said beg bitch.  Get your face in there."

   I realized that Mistress wasn't looking for pleasure, but wanted to
humiliate me in front of our guest.  I obliged her by pushing my tongue as
far up her rear tunnel as I could.  Humming happily and making sucking
sounds as I did so.  I tried my best to forget about Stacy there seeing my
debasement.  'Happy, eager, submissive fuck toy', I repeated in my mind.

   Most mornings, I would wake Mistress in the mornings by making love to
her arse.  I did it gently and then with more passion as she grew aroused.
Finally, I would be allowed to move to her pussy until she was satisfied.
That was for her pleasure.  But now I was begging, and expected to act like
the deprived slut I was, and Mistress took great pleasure in my
humiliation.

   "Oh yeah, that's it.  Get it on up in there," she said.  "You love it
don't you bitch?"

   I moaned my response.

   "Uh, I think I better leave," I heard Stacy say.

   "Sit!" my Mistress commanded.  Then she realized she wasn't talking to
me, but to someone who wasn't quite so eager or submissive, and then her
tone softened.  "Just a few minutes more Stacy.  If you leave, I'm going to
do something to hurt this little bitch, and you don't want that to happen
now, do you?"

   "Sorry," Stacy said, giving me a look of concern, but not that much
concern.

   "Bbut I gotta go."

   "Convince her Slut." Amanda said.

   I peeked around Mistress's arse.  "Please Stacy.  Please don't go. 
She'll hurt me.  She will." Tears rolled from my eyes and my bottom lip
trembled.  I could play the part of victim as easily as I could play bimbo.
Stacy eased back into her seat.  She still looked over toward the door to
make sure the path was clear.  I couldn't blame her.  I wish I had been
able to leave long ago when I had the chance.

   "Strap it on me Slut," Mistress commanded.

   I picked up the strap on, inserted the smaller end into Mistress's sex.
I buckled the straps around her thighs and waist; I could do it in my
sleep.

   "Come here slut." Mistress pointed to floor at her feet, directly in
front of Stacy.  "Down here in front of me."

   I dropped to my hands and knees in front of her and in front of Stacy. I
gazed down at her shoes - sensible sandals that matched her sundress.  I
would never be allowed to wear either.  My heels were always impossibly
high.  The arches of my feet had been adjusted so that was all that I could
never wear anything without a four inch heel again.  My dresses were short
and tight.  My outfits were anything but sensible.  I was only allowed to
wear maid's outfits, schoolgirl uniforms, nurse's uniforms, or even nun's
habits with the back cut out.  These were my clothes.  And you know what
they say . . .  the clothes make the person.

   Mistress knelt behind me and pressed the head of the dildo against my
opening.  "Do you want it Slut?"

   "Oh yes Mistress.  Slut Stacy's little girl needs her boyfriend's big
fat cock.  Slut Stacy needs to be fucked.  Please fuck Slut Stacy.  Fuck
her little girl.  Fuck her hot twat."

   She drove it into me then and there.  Fucking me.  Fucking me right in
front of Stacy.  I was so close to her, my head would occasionally bounce
into her knee.  She looked at the door, trying to ignore the debacle that
was going on right in front of her.

   I grunted and groaned.  I rutted.  I sucked my fingers.  I squealed.  I
pulled on my pierced nipples.  I was an eager, happy, submissive fuck toy.
I hadn't cum for some time - a very long time.  Yet, occasionally it felt
like I would be able to . . .and this was one of those times.  However, I
couldn't quite make it happen.

   You would never know it though.  To listen to me, you would think I was
multiorgasmic.  Mistress made sure of it, made sure I could fool anyone. 
By now I could almost fool myself.

   I wiggled my ass and pushed back against my Mistress, meeting her stroke
for stroke.  Meeting her eagerly.  Our bodies slapped together.  I curled
my toes and screwed my face up in mock passion.  "Ugh-ugh-Slut Stacy's
gonna cum.  Oh fuck - oh fuck, gonna cum so hard!"

   Amanda slapped my ass and pulled my head back by my hair.  "You love it
don't you Slut.  You love getting fucked, don't you?  I said *don't you*?"

   "Slut Stacy loves it.  She loves it so much.  Oh God-god Huh-huh-huh . .
.here it cums.  The biggest cum ever . . .  fuck - oh fuck - it's fucking
killing me.  I'm dying.  Ugh-I'm dying....Mmmm-mmmm---mmmmppph- cumming." I
was faking of course.  But, I was good at it.  Meg Ryan was a fucking
amateur in Harry Met Sally.

   I arched my body one final time and kissed Stacy's knee.  She pulled it
away from me.

   "Can I go now?" she was all she said.

   "Just one more moment Stacy," Amanda said, as she grabbed me under my
arms and pulled me up against her.  My breasts had been bared during my
fucking.  She hooked her fingers in the rings through my pierced nipples
and pulled until I moaned.  I held my hands laced behind my neck
obediently. I didn't need to be told.

   Her hand traveled down my stomach and moved to the hem of my skirt.  The
blood pounded in my ears.  The moment had arrived.  Then Mistress raised my
skirt and displayed me to Stacy.

   "Are you sure you don't recognize anything?" Amanda asked, squeezing my
balls and pulling my sleeved cock away from my body.

   "Oh my God," Stacy gasped.  "She has a penis.  She is a . . .she is a
he!"

   I could my heart pounding as the blood flowed to my blushing cheeks.

   "More than that," Amanda laughed.  "You've slept with her.  As a matter
of fact, you two used to be lovers."

   "Adam?" Stacy looked at my face, searching and unable to find any trace
of my former existence, except for my tears.  "Oh my God.  Adam!  But
that's impossible."

   "Nothing's impossible," Amanda said.  "I'm a plastic surgeon and I've
had quite a lot of time on my hands.  Time enough to change Adam into what
you see here."

   "You did this on purpose?  " Stacy cupped my face in her hands then
turned to Amanda.  "Made him look like me.  What on earth would you do that
for?"

   "He wanted you.  I simply gave him what he wanted, didn't I, slut?"

   "Yes, Mistress."

   "You let her do this to you?" Stacy asked; her face incredulous.

   "Yes," I admitted, repeating my mantra, 'happy eager submissive bimbo',
in my head.  It was true.  I had let her do it to me.  Had even asked for
some of it, thinking it would be something else.  But now I couldn't
explain to her that I'd been tricked.  No, that would certainly be against
the rules.  Eager- yes, I had to be eager.  I couldn't tell her that Amanda
had found out about us, found out that I intended to leave her to live with
Stacy, just as we'd agreed.  That I'd had no warning.  That one day Amanda
merely mentioned that I was getting a little fat around my middle and under
my chin.

   "You should let me take care of that for you," she said.

   It sounded good at first.  She was a brilliant plastic surgeon.  It
would also make me more attractive to Stacy and it would be my last
opportunity to have it done for free.  I should have known better.  I
should have suspected, but I was greedy and like an idiot, I agreed.  Told
everyone I was going on an extended vacation, just like my wife suggested.
Just like all the stars did it.

   It didn't work out like I had planned.  Not by a long shot.

   When I woke up, my wife greeted me with tears.  Crocodile tears. 
"There's been a terrible mishap during the surgery, but don't worry.  I'm
the best at what I do.  I'll have you back in shape before you know it."

   I kissed her.  I felt guilty for cheating on her.  Can you believe it?
Felt ashamed for falling in love with another woman.  So I consented to
other 'corrective' operations.  I needed to at that point.  Would Stacy
want some mangled leper of a man?  No, I was sure she wouldn't.  There were
many other operations, and I never guessed the truth about them.  Not until
I was home and the bandages were removed.

   The first thing I noticed was breasts.  Nice perky beautiful womanly
breasts breasts that belonged on a woman, not a man.  I tried to scream but
my wife gagged me.  I tried to fight back, but she easily overpowered me.
It was then I discovered I was weaker than before.  What had she done to
me?

   She took out a mirror and showed me the rest of her work.  God, it was
horrible.  My body was beautiful, but it was the body of my mistress and
not my own.  I feared for the loss of my cock, the rest could be fixed one
way or another.  But it was there, thank the Lord, it was down there safe
and sound.

   Yes, it was still there, but there was a problem.  There was some sort
of ring locked around it.  A KTB she called it.  I learned later that KTB
is short for Kali's Teeth Bracelet, a small tube that fits around your
cock. It's the teeth part that gets you.  When you get aroused, your cock
expands . . .  and comes into contact with sharp pointy spikes.

   Did you know that you get hard in your sleep?  You do - several times a
night.  Now, try to imagine waking up to sharp objects sticking into your
cock.  Imagine for a moment being teased by your wife and forced to think
of other things to avoid being aroused.  Here let me help you out.  Don't
think of a pussy.  See what I mean?  Imagine responding as a man does, only
to have Kali's teeth waiting.  Imagine your moans and cries of helpless
frustration being taken for signs of feminine arousal.  It was horrible
torture.  A thousand times I wanted to leave, but my wife had insisted she
would change me back once I learned my lesson.  Learned what it was like to
be used.

   It was then that I found out that my body wasn't all she wanted to
change.  Once the surgery was complete, she wanted more. . .  much more.

   "Stacy, if you want me to take Kali off tonight, maybe you could do one
little thing for me. . ."

   I hated her calling me Stacy.  It dehumanized me, turned me into the
object of her vengeance, but I silently endured it.  Hoping her anger would
run its course.

   "I really like the idea of Stacy being my maid," my wife said.  "But, I
think I would like to see her have a better attitude about things.  I think
a pretty smile and a nice curtsy when she sees me would be nice."

   "Yes dear," I answered.

   "Ahem. . ." she said.  "Forgetting something?"

   "Yes dear," I curtsied.

   "Lower, and remember to smile now.  Nice and pretty.  Eager Stacy, think
Eager."

   "Yes, dear." I tried again.  I wanted to crawl under the table.  It was
humiliating enough to be forced into a maid's uniform.  But this, this was
sheer and utter degradation.

   "And you should call me Mistress from now on.  I don't take kindly to
familiarity with the help."

   I bit my lip to keep from saying something in anger.  This was
intolerable.

   "I guess we should leave you and Kali alone to think on it tonight," she
smiled.

   "No, please don't," I said.  Quickly adding, "Mistress." And plastering
a fake smile on my face, squatting down low, and lifting the hem of my
short skirt high.

   "Yes, think on that tonight Stacy," Mistress said.  "In the morning, I
intend to give you much more to think about.  But meanwhile, since you want
to be so familiar with me." She lifted her skirt and slipped down her
panties.  "Here's something for you to become familiar with.  Give me a
kiss.  You are going to learn to please me for a change."

   I knelt down and began to orally pleasure her.  Albeit, reluctantly and
resentfully.  I had to, I realized, in order to get rid of that awful KTB.

   "Slow down bitch," she said.  "We've got all the time in the world."

   I groaned as Kali's teeth bit into my cock.

   My wife moaned in response.  "Oh you love it don't you Stacy?  Well,
don't worry girl, there is more where this came from . . .  much more - a
never ending supply of pussy.  Ahhh...that's it baby...circle your tongue
around my clit...mmmmm"

   I had hoped that she would relent, especially considering that I knelt
between her legs for over an hour.  But, she kept her promise, and I spent
another sleepless night locked in the KTB.  The next morning I was in so
much in pain from it and so angry that I was unable to keep up any pretense
that I was her dutiful maid.  I took the key from her bedroom and made a
break for it.  I only made it downstairs before I was grabbed from behind
and held rigid.

   "You still need some adjustments in your attitude I'm afraid," Amanda
said, coming toward me with one more hypodermic needle of the many I'd seen
in the past months.  "You'll be much happier when you return from where I'm
sending you now to be trained.  These men will see that you arrive safely,
and this injection will assure that you go peaceably.

   I went peaceably, asleep.  When I woke up, I was in hell.  I don't even
want to think about that place.  There were four women and eight men there,
and they gave me their undivided attention.  I learned a very important
lesson.  My Mistress was strict and she could be cruel, but she was only
one person.  They had used me almost constantly in one fashion or another.
Nothing was off limits.  Nothing was taboo.  They had broken whatever fight
remained in me.  And now I'd been back for weeks.

   Thankfully the KTB was gone, but to get rid of it, I gave up so much.  I
became the ideal maid.  I became a bimbo.  In my former life, I had used
women for sex.  Now, I was the one who was used.  Once, a woman had been
simply a tight hole or eager mouth for my cock.  Now I was more a lesbian
slave than a man.  My mouth was what gave my wife pleasure.  When I fucked
her, it wasn't with my cock but with a dildo.  Worst of all was when she
occasionally brought over male lovers and I had to get them ready for her.
Watched while they came inside her while I was locked into my own prison of
steel.  It was so unfair.

   But, as I was saying, thankfully the KTB was gone.  In its place I wore
a simple curved tube.  I still wasn't allowed the use of my cock.  She said
I first had to get my mind right and Stacy didn't have a cock, did she? 
How could I have a cock if I was to be her substitute Stacy to exact her
revenge upon.

   There was only one thing that puzzled me about the whole thing.  Stacy
was here right now and my wife seemed so civil - so pleasant.  But Amanda
could be tricky.  I knew that very well.  Poor Stacy had no clue who she
was dealing with.

   "Here's her key.  Take it if you want her." Amanda said to Stacy.

   KEY?  My mind focused instantly on what was being said.

   "Want her?" Stacy replied.

   "YES, DO YOU WANT HER?" Amanda said, as if talking to an idiot.  "She's
eager, she's obedient, and she's extremely submissive.  Her tongue's been
pierced and she's a first-class pussy licker who doesn't even care if
you're having your monthly visitor if you know what I mean.  You've seen
way she worships my ass.  She'll do anything.  She's also an excellent
maid. The most submissive you'll ever have.  And if you ever take a male
lover, she'll happily get him ready for you, suck him to hardness - even
put him in.  Afterwards, if he didn't quite please you, well Stacy will be
quite happy to finish you off with her mouth.  You'll never have to clean
up drop of disgusting male cum ever again.  Not unless you want to."

   Amanda jingled the key.  "Go on, take the key and she's yours."

   I wanted so much to reach up and grab the key.  I had tried before and
run for the door.  That's what got me sent away.  I never tried again.

   I did the only thing I could think of.  I kissed Stacy's sandals. 
Kissed her little painted toes.  Tried to kiss my way up her legs and in
between her thighs, to show her I could please her.  Please take me away
from this place, I begged with my eyes.  Please take me away from this
cruel mean vengeful woman.

   Amanda continued: "All you got to do is promise to *keep* her.  I'm
going to check up on you every now and then and I don't think you will like
what happens if I find out you've let my Stacy go.  I expect to find her
just as you see her now."

   "Ah. . ." Stacy said, looking at the dangling key, but not touching it.

   Please take it.  Please take it.  Amanda pushed the strap-on deep into
my pussy again.  'Stop it!  It's your ass, not your pussy', I reminded
myself.  'Get yourself together before Stacy leaves.'

   'You're a man.  You used to be her lover.  It's now or never'.  I
summoned up what remained of my pride and courage, risking my Mistress's
wrath.  "Please Miss Stacy," I begged.

   "Miss Stacy," Stacy said, tilting my head up by my chin.  "I rather like
that.  I don't recall you ever being that respectful while we were going
out."

   "Ugh - ugh - Slut Stacy is very courteous now Miss." I wish my Mistress
would stop fucking me, it made it so hard to talk.

   "But Adam," she said.  "Or whatever you call yourself now.  When we
talked of marriage, you were supposed to have money.  That was part of the
deal.  You were going to take care of me."

   "I'm afraid she's nothing but a maid now," Mistress Amanda said, as she
ran her hands through my hair, mussing it up.  I hated it when she did
that. It was so hard to get it back together again.  "No judge would ever
believe this was my husband.  Perhaps she could bring in some extra money
from cleaning.  She's quite the housekeeper, this one."

   "Yes, Miss Stacy," I agreed.  "Slut Stacy could work.  She doesn't eat
very much." No the corset that I wore didn't permit me to eat more than a
few bites at a time.

   "But where would you sleep?" she asked.

   "With you?" I volunteered.  However her eyes clearly said no.  I thought
she loved me.  "Anywhere."

   "I don't think so," Stacy said.

   "Please," I begged.  "Please take me."

   "See how eager she is," Amanda said, pulling down on the rings in my
nipples until I was once again on my hands and knees.  "Always begging to
be taken.  Just keep a strap-on handy and you've got one happy little . . .
fuck . . .  toy."

   Amanda started fucking me again.  Not playful like before, but hard.  My
strength vanished with every thrust.  I couldn't stop myself from reacting,
and soon I was fucking her back, wiggling, crying, and grunting.  My body
was betraying me.

   I tried to fight it, but couldn't keep from becoming the happy, eager,
submissive lesbian slave I had been trained to be.  Her fuck toy.

   I watched in horror as Stacy's eyes grew distant.  She didn't even look
at me, instead turning to my Mistress, my former wife.  "Well, I'm sure
that ahh.  . .  Stacy would be fun to play with for awhile," she said.  "It
looks like *she* would be quite good at pleasing me in a way that the man
that I'm currently dating doesn't do nearly enough."

   Oh, she was going to take me.  I wanted to kiss her.  Pledge to her my
undying love.  If she would only get me away from here and out of the
chastity tube, I would show her just how good I was at oral sex.  I had
spent hours upon hours practicing.

   "But, then what would I do with her?" she continued.  "You see how soft
she is.  How easily she is persuaded into things.  Surely you can see that
for yourself.  God, look how she reacts to you fucking her.  How could I
leave her with a man?  With my man."

   Spurred on by these comments, my wife fucked me harder.  And Stacy stood
up from the couch.  Oh no no no.  Stacy had it all wrong.  I would never do
such a thing unless she asked me to.  "Ugh-Oh God, please Stacy.  Ugh-Ugh,
baby please.  Slut Stacy will do anything for you," I gasped, while my arse
was violated.

   Don't you remember me?  I'm Adam.  I made love to you on the couch, in
bed, even took you on the dining room table.  Please take me home and free
me from this prison.  I'll do anything.  I'll pay.  I'll work.  Buy you
presents somehow.  I'll pleasure you five times a day.  Spank me if you
want.  Just get me out of here and get this chastity tube off of my cock.
Let me be a man again . . .  even part of a man.

   God, it all went through my head, and I tried to bring it to the
surface, but I couldn't.  I could only be the happy, submissive, lesbian
slave.  My wife's eager fuck toy.

   I watched in helpless horror as Stacy picked up her purse.  "Please," I
begged, bending down and taking her big toe in my mouth.  I sucked on it.
In and out, like on a small cock.  In the way my Mistress adored.

   Stacy pulled it free and hastily turned.  I heard her heels clack on the
floor as she was leaving.  I willed myself to stop reacting, but I could no
more stop from playing the role than I could stop breathing.  Of its own
volition my body was pushing back against my Mistress, ass wriggling, and
squealing like a good little fuck toy.

   God, I couldn't even stop myself anymore.  I had played the role too
long.  I wondered how long before I forgot that I was even playing a role.
How long before I thought I was really Stacy . . .  Slut Stacy.

   One last chance.  I've got to do it.  I summoned all my will power and
called out after Stacy.  My former lover and my one chance to get free. 
"Please-take metake me - take me," I cried, only to hear the front door
slam.

   "Oh, I'm taking you alright you greedy little slut," Amanda said,
thrusting even harder.

   Fuck, it was over.  My one chance had left.  My one hope was gone.  I
slumped down and submitted to the ravaging anal assault.

   It should have been the worst moment of my life.  Instead, I'm not sure
when it happened, but I noticed something unusual.  The cock in my ass felt
different, almost like it was hitting me in a slightly different place.  I
arched my back and spread my legs wider so that I could experience the
magical feeling even more.

   "Oh Mistress, you are really deep in Slut Stacy's pussy.  Ugh - ugh -
you are - oh shit her little girl is so *hot*," I grunted.  Oh it was so
surprising.  I could feel it deep inside me.  Deeper than ever before.  It
hurt, but it felt good at the same time.  That part was usual.  But what
was unusual, was the warm glow I felt growing in my loins as my wife
continued to fuck me.  Dear Lord, it was growing stronger.

   "Gonna cum - gonna cum.  Oh fuck fuck fuck, gonna cum." My cock strained
at the tube.  It hurt, but I could care less.

   Suddenly, I noticed that Mistress Amanda was slowing her thrusts.  Not
yet!  I wasn't finished.  "Oh don't stop.  Please don't stop.  Slut - ah -
Slut Stacy needs it.  Oh take me - take me - take me."

   "Tell Mistress what her little girly girl needs."

   I couldn't see her, but I could hear the smile in her voice.  So
arrogant .  . .  so cocky . . .but I could care less.  "Oh please - Stacy's
little girl needs cock.  Hard cock - oh please fuck her as hard as you
can."

   She was almost all the way out of my puckered arsehole and she thrust
hard, spearing me with one hard brutal thrust.  At one time it would have
killed me, but now . . .  now it was pure heaven.

   "Oh God - Oh God-" I cried as she plowed my depths.  "Ugh-Slut Stacy is
gonna cum," I gasped.  "Oh my God, Slut Stacy is *really* gonna cum.  Oh
fuck fuck ahhh..."

   She spanked my ass and pulled my hair.  I felt a warm glowing feeling in
my pelvis, and then I came.  It hurt, the pain blazed through my shaft, as
my cum sought to escape through the curved metal tube.  And when it shot
out, it was with blazing force and burned like molten lava.

   The pleasure, the pain, it was too much.  I had never cum before . .
.not like that.  I remembered hugging my wife, tears falling from my eyes,
kissing her, telling her that I loved her.  Remembered her taking off the
dildo harness and grabbing my by the ears and forcing my head down to her
soaked crotch.

   "You love me huh bitch?" she said.  "Well, you'll have plenty of
opportunity to show me just how much you love me with that long slut tongue
of yours my little slave."

   I knelt down before her and did just that.  And I never thought about
leaving again.  Not even once.

   The end