Last night (or was it this morning) I had a very rude and perverse bisexual fantasy. I hadn't masturbated several days, and so my fantasies get more perverse when I finally get round to touching myself. This is that perverse fantasy.
Apollo had just got home from college, it had been a long day, and he'd had to face far too much mental retardation from the teachers who were determined to prove they were stupid and inefficient. Oh well he thought, and sighed, and then lay down on his bed for sleep.
He wasn't asleep for long. After 20 short minutes of peaceful slumber, there was a knock at the front door.
He quickly jumped out of bed and threw on some rock-styled clothes, as usual. Just some baggy jeans and a Deftones t-shirt, all rather scruffy and all black. That was all he needed on, so he scampered sleepily down the stairs and answered the door.
It was Aphrodite, his girlfriend, she was tall, but shorter than him by several inches. She wore some heavy goth makeup, and her round white face and jet black hair suited this perfectly. Her hair poured sleekly from her central parting down the sides of her face and onto her buxom bosom. She was dressed in all black too, big boots, a shiny black figure hugging t-shirt covered with a net-style vest, and a black skirt from her waist down, covering her silken stockings and big boots.
"Well, are you gonna let me in or not?" she said, and shifted her black spiky bag from her shoulders, making her bosom wobble as she did it.
Apollo allowed himself a wry smile, and stood aside, ready to let his girlfriend, his queen, and in the bedroom, his dominatrix, in.
Aphrodite proceeded up the stairs, and Apollo watched her ass move under the skirt, thinking of the black rim at the top of each stocking and the suspenders connecting them to her corset.
When they were at the top of the stairs, Aphrodite turned round and gave him a kiss with her black lips, and opened her eyes and looked into his with a gaze that revealed exactly what she wanted. It was the look of "I'm going to play with you and make you come for me," and she turned again and went into Apollo's room.
Apollo followed her and watched her put down her bag by his bed, with an odd clunk, and sit down on the bed. She patted the bed to her side and said "come on," in a playful tone. Apollo, only to happy to obey moved up the bed to the desired spot. They started to kiss, he could smell and taste her black lipstick, and the odour of her perfume reached deep into the sexual memories in his mind, his heart began to speed up and the kissing got more passionate, their tongues rolling over one another, pressing against each other in an endless wrestle for oral dominance.
Then she pushed Apollo away and looked teasingly into his face, and removed his hand from her arse. He hadn't noticed that in the rampant snogging, his hand had wandered from the small of her back to her fleshy buttocks, oh well, they weren't there now.
She held both his hands in front of his chest with one hand, and the other went up his shirt, and stimulated his nipples, one of his many guilty pleasures. Once she was satisfied he was getting pleasure from one stimulation, she'd go onto the next, teasing him in that he never go to appreciate any fully. Then her hand wandered down into his boxers and gripped his now extremely erect male member. Her fingers probed his shaft up and down, and she smirked, she knew this was the fall of man, and watched his face respond to the tactile pleasure.
She sped up, making him think he was going to come soon, and his face changed again, and his body started moving in order to fuck her hand, faster still and they were practically moving in unison, albeit one restrained and one in complete control.
Then she stopped, Apollo's heart was racing and he was a little annoyed at this constant teasing, and his mouth opened in a "Awwww," gesture, even though he loved it. The feeling of frustration was real, and that's what made it so good.
She turned and went to her heart-shaped rubber bag, that was covered in lots of small rubber spikes. The zip made it's characteristic opening noise, and Apollo wondered what his pretty domme had brought in her bag of tricks today.
He was surprised when she brought a thermos flask up, not what he was expecting at all.
"Drink some of this stuff. It makes you go for hours," she said, knowingly. Apollo, being the perfect submissive, did what his mistress told him, and unscrewed the cap of the thermos. He looked inside. There was a warm, minty smelling drink, that turned out to taste quite sweet as it slid down his throat. After finishing drinking, he felt quite satisfied and at peace. Then he noticed his arms and legs had gone limp, but he didn't care, it was completely all right with the wellbeing inspired by the drink. Then his world began to spin and fade and he laid his head down and passed out.
He woke up repeatedly, and appeared to be being transported somewhere in the back of a van. From what he could tell, there were several women sat around him, and he was on the floor on a mat. Various conversation fragments went through his brain, with the occasional streetlamp weirdly illuminating the inside of the van. From what he could tell, they were all in fetish wear and were speaking of him and their loathing and disgust of men. The van smelled strongly of rubber, and Apollo was still flitting in and out of consciousness and couldn't move.
"Ok, ok," he heard one of the dominas say, "we'll compromise. We'll turn him into a girl and make an example of him."
Apollo didn't care what that meant, as long as he kept his manhood, whatever else was fine. And with that thought, he felt gloved and rubber-gloved hands grappling him, and removing his clothing. One cradled his penis and tossed it around in her hands. "Nice dick," was the comment, and he felt the last of his clothes get removed.
Some more flitting in and out of consciousness, some more grabbing and he felt himself be chained to the roof of the inside of the van. He felt a corset be put on him, and tightened mercilessly. He felt various underwear and stuff be dressed on him, and then some kind of outfit be put on over the top.
"Excellent," said one voice, "now let's do his face and hair." And he was unchained from the roof of the van, he slumped down and was moved to sit somewhere against the front seats of the van. The van pulled to a stop and another female voice said "We're here."
He felt a light be shone on him, and he didn't dare open his eyes. Various things prodded at his face and his hair was tied up, with two strands allowed to fall down the sides of his face. He sensed his legs must've been shaved because they were chilly, and he felt his arms were tied behind his back with rope, his hands felt like they were in rubber of some sort.
"Ok, done!" said the make-up artist that had just been prodding at his face. "Per-fect!" said Aphrodite's voice. "This will be perfect. Teach her some respect." He felt his skirt being lifted and his cock being examined. "look it's moving, he'll be awake soon, it's even possible he was awake during that. I bet you were, weren't you, you little bitch. You little slut."
Apollo refused to answer. "Play it that way then bitch, it doesn't matter, you're going to show your dirtiest side in front of everyone tonight, does that make you horny? You little slut."
A few minutes pass and Apollo opens his eyes. He's been dressed in a little latex French maid's outfit. His hair's been done in a French plait, and two trails of hair effeminately bounce on his shoulders. He can smell the lipstick on his lips and feel it's alien texture, taste it's strange taste. His legs and pubes had indeed been shaved, and a thong and suspender belt and stockings had been dressed onto him. He felt supremely embarrassed, and a dog collar was put round his neck by one of the dominatrices.
"Oh look," It was Aphrodite again. "The little whore is blushing, Dirty girl!" Apollo didn't understand why he was now a girl, or dressed like this, but most of all why he loved it. The embarrassment was certainly real, but for some reason it just accentuated his guilty pleasure feeling.
A leash was connected to his dog collar, and he was dragged out of the van. He looked around and saw several people in costumes and bondage gear walking up the gravel drive, crunching while they walked, and entering a mansion-like building at the top of the drive.
He found it difficult to walk at the speed of his dommes, in his new high heeled shoes, whilst being dragged by the neck with his hands tied behind his back. He could feel the chill wind wrap around his legs and blow up his skirt. He felt violated, he felt upset, he felt absurd, he felt... excited.
He was led inside the brilliantly lit mansion, and stood amazed at the sheer presence of the place. Gilded picture frames, roman pillars, and a large set of marble steps with red carpet rolling down the middle drew his attention. There were people all around, men and women in various costumes or suits, some in the throes of sex already. A spurt of cum may occasionally jump up on someone, and there was one orgy going on, the room smelled of come and resounded with moaning. He gazed up the steps and saw the two ladies of the house, one in a long red latex dress, the other in a latex suit, hair tied back to look more masculine. Her fly was down and a strap on dildo extended out and was being fellated by one of the house maids. The lady in the red dress had a riding crop and was swishing it around in the air lazily.
She spotted Apollo and Aphrodite and the group of dommes, and came down the stairs and sauntered over very effeminately.
.... There is more of this story ...