Chapter 7

I fell asleep and slept for most of the day. When I woke up, I searched for my old jeans, thinking I’d return to being a man and fuck what my aunt wanted. However, I couldn’t find them, and there wasn’t anything else masculine to wear in the entire house. I settled for high-waisted, black skinny jeans and a red T-shirt. I didn’t do my makeup, and I didn’t shave my face. Although I’d shaved when I woke up, and I don’t have much facial or body hair anyway, and therefore, not shaving was probably moot.

I’d gotten out of bed and returned to the kitchen at about the time my aunt usually got home. Despite my internal rebellion against her forced feminisation of me, I began preparing our meal anyway—more proof of my innate submissive disposition.

If Aunt Liz noticed anything untoward with my appearance, she never mentioned it. Instead, we ate dinner with our usual companionability. We spoke about her day, current events, and the week to come. By the time I’d served my Mistress a glass of white wine and she’d left for the lounge, I felt pretty ridiculous for wanting to disobey her. After all, my aunt was my sole surviving relative. Well, perhaps my dad was out there somewhere, but she was as far as I knew. And why I was rebelling was no longer clear to me.

After rinsing and putting the dishes in the washer and pouring myself a glass of wine, I joined Aunt Liz in the lounge. My aunt smiled at me before indicating that I should kneel before her again. I obeyed, and she took my hands in hers. “Okay, little one,” Aunt Liz said firmly but not unkindly. “What’s up your sexy ass?”

“Nothing,” I denied.

“Do you wish to add lying to me to disrespecting me?” My aunt queried.

“No, Mistress,” I replied quickly. “How have I disrespected you?”

She ran her hand over my unshaven face before patting my cock, which bulged against my tight trousers. “Oh, I don’t know, Dylan,” she drawled. “How do you think you’ve been disrespectful?” She gave me a tight smile. “Now, tell me. What’s gotten up your ass? Am I not treating you fairly? Am I asking too much of you despite the fact I ask so little?”

“I’m not gay,” I muttered. “It seems like you’re trying to make me want to suck a cock, and I don’t like it.”

“Baby girl,” Aunt Liz said firmly. “You will suck a cock or take one up your ass whenever I order you to. You tell me that you don’t want to,” she took my stiff cock in her hand, “yet your boy clitoris throbs and aches in my hand. Stop lying to me, Dylan.”

“He beat me, Mistress,” I wailed as tears sprung from my eyes. “He punched me and sat on my chest. His cock grew until it loomed over my forehead. Why did I want to suck it? Why do I get turned on when I remember those incidents and want them to happen again?”

“Who did?” Mistress Donnelly asked.

“Grant Bowers,” I replied. “I know you’ve been exchanging messages with him, and he sent me a friend request.” Aunt Liz stroked my hair and held my head to her lap as I cried. Eventually, I lifted my head and looked at her. “I’m gay, aren’t I? That’s why the boys always teased me at school, and the older men haze me wherever I work.”

“No, little one,” my aunt assured me. “You’re experimenting with your sexuality because I’m giving you the opportunity to. When you have finished experimenting, I hope you will choose to be my girl and enter into a relationship with me that is similar to what Kate Muggleton has with her husband and son.”