Ms. Margo

"Clean yourself up and join me in the living room," she said coldly. She was a far cry at the moment from the sweet, engaging girl that I meet a few nights ago. I went to the bathroom and wiped my ass and washed it. There was a little stain of blood. She had fucked me vigorously, not to mention that I'd been stretched in the last few days by Ms. Margo and Mikhail. In truth Ms. Margo had been my first, she took my anal virginity.

"Kneel at my feet, slavegirl," Ilona said as I entered the living room. She lit a cigarette but didn't offer me one. She looked down at me, smoking a bit before she continued. "Tomorrow we're going to see my doctor."

"Are you sick?"

"No," she laughed. "The appointment is for you."

"Why do I need to go to the doctor?"

She reached out and stroked my hairless chest, pinching my nipples hard before she answered. "For your tit job, Dear." She said it as if I should have known somehow, intuitively.

"Tit job! Why?! No! This is going too far! I didn't agree to anything like this. I want my things back and to go home!"

"Well, that's not possible and I'm not inclined at all to allow you to leave. I own you, Dear. I don't like your attitude. Please don't make me beat you into submission. And I don't want to have to call Ms. Margo and tell her you're not cooperating as agreed. I know that would make her very angry. She can be a very vengeful lady when she gets angry. So I don't recommend you test her."

I knew she was telling the truth. They could do pretty much anything they wanted with me. And getting caught would be horrific here. I had no allies and no recourse, at least for the moment. But the farther this went along the more difficult it would be, obviously, to extract myself and get out.

"Well?" she asked harshly.

"No need to contact Ms. Margo, I'll behave."

"Good, much better. I don't like conflict like this. It's much more fun when you behave and listen to me, Dear. I'm not going to hurt you, ever, if you do that. Now, time for your vitamins."

She went to the bathroom and returned with the same assortment of pills as before. She handed them to me along with a glass of water.

"What are these pills?"

"I told you, Sweetie, they're girl vitamins. You need them. Now take them."

"There's no such thing as 'girl' vitamins," I said. "What's in them?"

"Things to make you more feminine, your voice, less hair, counteract your testosterone. You don't need nearly the level of testosterone you have now. We're balancing it with feminine things for your benefit. Now take them! I'm getting cross at your behavior again!"

"I don't want them."

Ilona gave me a vicious look. She picked up her phone and dialed someone. It was Ms. Margo. They spoke for a few minutes, essentially Ilona complaining about my behavior. She hung up and lit a cigarette before she addressed me.

"Ms. Margo will be here shortly to help me resolve this. You're going to regret this."

Ilona left me on my knees there. I sat on the couch, the hardwood floors having tortured my knees long enough. I lit a cigarette and wondered if I shouldn't have just taken the pills.

When Margo arrived Ilona spoke with her in the vestibule, out of earshot. In a few minutes Ilona walked in the living room with her.

"On your knees, slavegirl," was all Ms. Margo said. She sat on the couch and lit a cigarette. She looked at me with cold, angry eyes.

"Listen to me, you insolent little slut!" she hissed at me angrily, blowing smoke in my face. "I don't like having to come over here to straighten you out. You are welching on my bargain with Ilona. I won't tolerate that. Now, you will do whatever she says, when she says, how she says. But you have to be punished for this insolence."

Suddenly they both grabbed my arms and before I knew it my wrists were attached to restraints from the ceiling and a spreader bar fixed between my ankles. Ilona put tape over my mouth. That was a very bad sign. Ms. Margo came and stood in front of me, cane in hand.

"All you had to do was behave and follow instructions, but you get pissy and whiny. Now you are going to get what you deserve. If you think you have any recourse, any voice or will, you are wrong. If you don't do what you're told, I will burn your documents and drop you off in the nastiest neighborhood in this city. You would, of course, be dressed as the little slut you are. We'd see how long you'd last before you were gangraped by the thugs in that part of town. They don't particularly like your type, but they're not above using you, temporarily at least, for their pleasure. Now, how does that sound? Do you like that idea?"

I shook my head vigorously. I hadn't really considered possibilities like that.

"Although, there might be someone there that would take a little pity on you and make you his bitch, his fuck toy. But not likely. I really don't like your odds there. So, you're still going to get the assbeating of your life, but I want your promise, are you going to behave and do what you're told?"

I nodded my head, trying to mouth "Yes, Mistress, I promise" under my tape.

Ilona fed me the pills before she took a seat in front of me, about to enjoy the show with a smoke and a drink.

Ms. Margo went behind me and began with my thighs. She worked her way up from there all the way to my shoulders. She avoided my tramp stamp but paid special attention to the soft fold where the asscheeks meet the thighs. I was crying and screaming underneath the tape on my mouth long before it was over. She only stopped when she cut my skin. Perhaps she had some shred of decency in her. She sat down with Ilona and lit a cigarette. They shared a drink and a smoke before Ms. Margo addressed me again.

"Are you ready to beg for forgiveness, or do you need more?"

I nodded, mouthing "I'm ready" under my tape, my eyes begging for mercy.

Ms. Margo released me from my restraints and told me to kneel before Ilona.

"Well?"

"Ms. Ilona please forgive me for my misbehavior, please I am sorry for being bad."

"Much better, Dear. Now lick Ms. Margo's pussy in gratitude for her punishment."

She spread her legs and I went to work, earnestly, enthusiastically, but she had other ideas initially. She stood and held my head roughly in her hand, knotting my hair in her fist and jerking my head back. She placed her pussy over my mouth and pissed. I struggled to catch it all and swallow it, as I had the other times. When she had drained her bladder she sat again and guided my head to work on her pussy.

I remained on my knees in front of them as they ignored me, chatting. Ilona told her the details of my appointments tomorrow. I didn't quite understand everything, not that it mattered to them.

Ms. Margo finally left, leaving me in awkward silence with Ilona. She lit a cigarette and looked at me. She had a self-satisfied, "I-told-you-so" look on her face.

"Suck my cock and then get dinner ready for us." I knelt between her legs and went to work, sucking her cock earnestly, hoping to salve her anger. But I think the beatdown had only made her horny. That scared me most of all.

The following morning was much the same routine, blowjob, make breakfast, shower, dress, makeup. She told me I had to look especially feminine today, it was important for my appointment. Of course there were my "vitamins," which I took without any resistance that morning. Or ever again, for that matter.

She took me to a shabby building and we waited with a receptionist before the doctor called us. Ilona spoke to her quietly away from me and seemed to hand her an envelope. When they finished their conversation the doctor left the room. Ilona told me to strip and put on the gown hanging on the coat rack. In a few minutes the doctor returned. She spoke to Ilona, never speaking to me, as she examined me. She examined my chest and then patted my thighs to spread my legs and she looked at my crotch. She made several comments to Ilona but I didn't understand much. It was probably less linguistic than the desire not to know really what was going on. Like trying to avoid a nightmare.

My next appointment was in a salon, hers, as I would learn the following week. She took me to a back booth and with the help of another lady, they began permanently removing my hair, beginning with my chest and then working on my face, after they removed my makeup. I don't know how long we were there but it took hours and it wasn't a pleasant experience.

Ilona took me to a café near her apartment. I felt naked, as I couldn't put on any makeup after my depilatory procedure. We sat in a corner and chatted quietly. Well, she talked, I listened, mostly. I was still scared and skiddish after my assbeating the day before.

She lit a cigarette and offered me one to enjoy with our shots of vodka. She had bought a small bottle, perhaps a third-liter, and it seemed we were going to sit and finish before we left.

"So, Sweetie," she said with a saccharine smile, "I'm very pleased to see you behaving today as you should. Relax and go with my plan, you'll be fine. This is your destiny, Sweetie. Now, tomorrow early we go to the clinic and you will have your operation. You will be home with me for a couple of days while you heal, but the good news is you will have nice breasts, a little smaller than mine, and you won't have to wear those breast forms anymore!"

"Yes Ma'am," I said, realizing it was going to happen whether I wanted it or not.

"I have a taxi ready for us already, it will pick us up at five, so we have to get to bed early. But once the doctor releases you we can relax together at home. I will take care of you. I remember what my operation was like," she said, cupping her big breasts and giggling.

"What size are yours?" I asked, figuring I might as well make conversation with her.

"Mine are DD's, yours will be D's, Sweetie. You can't have bigger tits than me," she winked. "Besides, DD's would be too big on your petite frame. We'll have an excuse to go do more shopping, you'll new bras. I have one for you but a girl can't have just one bra!" she laughed.

"How did you come to be a, well, a shemale?" I asked her cautiously.

She laughed and lit a cigarette before she answered. She offered me one and lit it for me. "I realized I was different inside from about thirteen," she answered. She recounted details of her past, the rebellion, the bitterness and anguish from her parents, her father especially, although her mother was conflicted, semi-supportive. Then she met Ms. Margo when she was about sixteen. She became her mentor and shepherded her into her awkward semi-state of womanhood. I was surprised to learn that, even though she claimed to be a girl of very modest means, her parents, on the other hand, were quite well-to-do. Her mother still continued to funnel her a large stipend to live on.

We finished our little bottle of vodka and feeling the effects, carefully walked the short distance to her apartment. After a quick meal we relaxed before we went to bed early. Despite the alcohol it was difficult to sleep. I was very anxious about the next day's events.

Four in the morning was a murderous time to get up, especially after a fitful night of sleep. I was exhausted. We showered and dressed, she ate alone, since I was not allowed anything but water before the operation. The cab was waiting for us when we went downstairs. I always wondered why things like this had to happen so damn early.

The clinic was a different place than the shabby doctor's office. It seemed like a clean and ordinary place, but I had reservations about medical care here. But I wasn't in a position to debate the subject. Ilona checked me in and in a few minutes a nurse came to get me. Ilona followed. The nurse put me in a gown, took my vitals and put me on a gurney while Ilona sat with me. Soon the doctor came. Again, she spoke not to me but to her. She did another cursory exam of my chest as she reviewed a chart before she left. Soon an anesthesiologist came and put me under. That was the last I remember until I woke some time later, Ilona sitting next to me.

"Well, Dear, congratulations!" she smiled. "Everything went splendidly. We can go home in a bit, the doctor has to make sure you're able to walk and so forth.

My chest felt numb but a dull pain was growing. My crotch ached, too. I looked down the length of my body and there were two globes on my chest. I had to say they did look pretty nice, even under the gown.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Well, it's four in the afternoon, but you've been here a whole day and a half," she laughed. "You've been sedated, you're surgery took several hours, and it was better to keep you restful and out for you to recover. We can go home soon. The doctor will be here to release you as soon as she can."

Soon the same lady doctor appeared. She had a very stern, strict appearance. She had a short bob of hair, jet-black but with some gray hairs since her last color.

She spoke with Ilona, ignoring me, as usual. She released me from her care but as I understood, she would be by to see me at home in a couple of days.

While at home with Ilona she kept me in bed, feeding me juice and pills mostly. She fed me heartily, as well. I felt spoiled, if it were not for the fact that she'd taken me to some weird doctor who gave me tits. But when I had to pee I got the shock of my life.

I asked Ilona to help me to the bathroom the first day home, after consuming so much juice I was about to burst. I went to stand and pee and she started giggling.

"You know you're supposed to squat to pee, and now you have to, no questions," she laughed.

I looked down and to my horrific shock my peepee was gone. In its place was a pussy! I'd had not only a tit job but that and a sex change! I started to cry.

"Quit crying and sit down and pee! What's wrong with you?! Didn't you realize this was going to happen anyway? The doctor saw no reason to wait for two operations when she could do it all in one shot. Squat, dammit! Pee!"

I sat and peed, still teary-eyed. I wondered if I would ever get home now. When I finished peeing Ilona told me to take tissue and instructed me how to wipe my pussy, carefully, so as not to aggravate my surgery.

She took me back to bed and kept me there for three more days. Maybe four, I was not that aware of the time after that. I slept mostly, when I wasn't eating, drinking juice or taking the pills she gave me. I slept at night with a stent in my pussy, a medical dildo basically. It was uncomfortable, but Ilona explained that I needed it to ensure it formed properly. Because of my tit job, I had to sleep on my back all this time, and for a few more days as well. But given the size of my new breasts, I would probably never sleep again on my stomach. They were sizable. I was still roiling in emotions, conflict, depression and frustration, but there was a little glimmer of pride in them. I still was reconciling myself to the fact that I was now a girl, physically, with a pussy.

The visits from my doctor were unpleasant to say the least. She had a gruff bedside manner. She spoke with Ilona first before she came to examine me. She looked at my tits and then pulled my legs apart to examine my pussy, probing me with her hands and fingers in latex gloves. She said little, if anything to me before she finished her exam and returned to speak to Ilona. She chose not to share much of anything to me after the doctor left.

"Sweetie," Ilona said to me when she woke me one morning after my long bed rest, "it's time to get on your feet now. You can wear a bra, which with your big, new tits, you need," she winked. "So, let's get you up, showered, I'm taking you to the salon and we need to start your training there."

When we got to her salon she took me to her booth. She explained to me my duties in a rapid flow of information, a fire hose, actually. She had a client who was due very shortly, so she had to get me oriented to help her. I noticed none of the other stylists had assistants. My duties were to sweep around her booth after each customer, keep her things in order at her station and anything else Ilona told me to do. I also washed towels when needed. She also taught me to shampoo hair for her customers, so she didn't have to. I felt like an old wash woman at times.

For the next week I was her hand maiden and cleaning woman. It was rather demeaning, as the other ladies thought of me as the lowest among them, undeserving of respect. More than one of the ladies there tried to order me to clean their stations, but Ilona put them in their place, brutally so, letting them know that I belonged to her. It was obvious that Ilona had some special sway in the salon, although she wasn't one to throw her influence around unless necessary.

But one day Ilona brought home mannequin heads and hands. I wasn't sure what this was about, but when we got home she set up a table in her little living room, placing the heads and hands on it. She told me in our free time she was going to teach me to be a stylist and manicurist. I was a little surprised, but I remembered she had promised to do this.

She was all business, highly demanding, as ever, but now in addition to being her slave in the salon, at home, I had hours of lessons in the evening and on our days off. Not to mention my duties as her sex slave. I took a meager bit of consolation in the fact that she hadn't whored me out to anyone else. At least not yet, I thought.

For the next two months we settled into a routine. Morning blowjob, shower, breakfast, dress, makeup, salon, home, blowjob, dinner, several hours of styling and manicure instruction and practice before a bedtime blowjob and sleep. Intermixed with that were shopping trips, mostly to complete me feminine wardrobe, but Ilona always needed something new for herself, as well. She was shaping my hairstyle, as well. It was a little longer now, a bob, but she loved the short taper in the back. The length on the sides was all the way down past my jawline now.

I was becoming a pretty competent stylist and manicurist in my own right. I did a lot of things on my own, under Ilona's strict oversight. She considered my work a direct reflection on her professional acumen. So she was very strict with me at work. As far as anyone was concerned, I was a slave, but not for sex. Although we did share breaks and such, having coffee and cigarettes together.

I'd all but given up hope of ever returning to who I was when I landed in St. Petersburg. It wasn't physically possible, even in the remotest scenarios. I was making peace with my place under Ilona's heel. But I had a fear that was building and I finally had to ask Ilona about it. It was starting to make me very anxious and fearful.

Finally one evening I had to address it with her. Fortunately, she recognized that I was tense and anxious, so she asked me about it. After some hesitation, fear of an unwanted response, she cajoled the subject out of me.

"I'm scared," admitted finally.

"Of what?!" she asked, with a little laugh.

"That you're going to get tired of me and give me away to someone else, or worse," I said, emotionally, tears welling up in my eyes and my voice cracking.

She left the room to go to the kitchen. She returned with a bottle of vodka and shot glasses. She offered me a cigarette and lit mine before she took hers and lit it. She poured us shots.

"Look at me," she said sternly. I looked up sadly at her.

She slapped my face hard. I started to cry.

"Stop crying, you silly little bitch! Do you think I would buy you, move you in here, pay for your tits and your pussy, train you to a stylist, and then sell you off?! Are you so fucking insecure that you think I would do that?!"

"I don't know," I said meekly, crying still and rubbing my cheek where she slapped me.