The Countess and the Contest

With that, she released her grip and spread her legs so that all of her weight was resting upon my face. Even though I knew what was coming next, there was no way to prepare. My entire body snapped rigid as she began dripping hot wax along my sissy-clit, causing me to squirm and struggle beneath her. She was devilishly clever in the application, spotting me randomly with the hot wax so as to keep me off my guard. At the same time, she continued to enjoy my oral worship, which she always maintained was more pleasant because of my squirming.

Even then, the Countess was not done. During a particularly long bout of smothering, she snapped the blood red candle in half and began inserting it into my sissy-pussy. I wasn't expecting the final intrusion to come so quickly, and didn't have time to prepare myself. Instead of relaxing my muscles and welcoming the assault, I was thrown into a renewed series of near-panicked struggles and muffled cries that had the Countess chuckling in dark delight.

"Mmmm, you squirm soooo well for a slave, Heathyr!"

I felt her thighs begin to quiver against my cheeks and knew the end was near. Desperate to bring her over the top, I ignored everything else and focussed on her pussy. I was completely immersed in the smells and tastes of her sex, and there was truly nothing more exquisite in all the world. I began licking and sucking like a madwoman, forcing my tongue so far inside her that it hurt. My lips were swollen where I'd bitten them, but still I continued to strain upward and coax her closer to climax.

That was when she upended the candle and literally began raining hot wax down upon my penis.

"Unnngghhhhaahhhhhhh!" I screamed into the Countess as my own orgasm crashed into my penile prison, only to be stopped by a seal of wax. That prolonged my orgasm painfully, making it feel as if the cum was washing back through the rest of my body.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" She literally shrieked as her own climax washed over her. Again and again she ground herself against my face, prolonging her own pleasure while rewarding me with the explosive spray of her forbidden juices.

By the time her orgasm exhausted itself, the Countess had sheathed my entire penis on hot, red wax - a feat that seemed to impress even our guest, if his low chuckle of approval was any indication.

Although I was nearly rendered senseless, I could hear her breathing heavily above me. "Now do you understand, Nathaniel? Breaking Heathyr is not like breaking one of your pathetic, mewling boy-slaves. Pain and pleasure . . . male and female . . . submission and reward . . . there are so many more facets involved."

"It's still not quite heavy enough for my tastes, but I can see your point."

The Countess shook her head and laughed. "You still do not see it, Nathaniel." She stood up from my face and smiled down at me. "You know what to do, Heathyr."

As their conversation continued, I dug my nails into the exposed based of my sissy-clit until it hurt. As it softened within its wax prison, I felt the rapidly cooling wax give way with a series of snaps and tears. Once I was completely soft, I pushed it down, as if I were going to tuck it between my legs, and slowly pulled the wax sheath away from the head.

"When I take Heathyr this way," the Countess continued, "there is a spiritual and emotional bond formed between us. She is a slave remade in my own image - nourished by my sweat, my sex, and my golden wine."

I felt the dammed reservoir of cum drain out of my sissy-clit into the wax sheath. It never ceased to amaze me how oddly submissive it felt to just allow it to drip from sissy-clit, instead of having it forcefully ejected in orgasmic spurts.

The Countess came over to take the perfectly formed wax cock from my hands. "Thank you, Heathyr. You always do make me quite thirsty."

With that, she tipped her head back and let my spent sissy-cum flow into her mouth. She made quite a show of enjoying it, even going so far as break the wax in half and lick the insides clean. This was definitely something new, but I recognized that it was all for our guest's benefit. She had, after all, spit his own cum at his feet in disgust.

I nearly fainted in ecstasy as I watched her tongue lick the last remnants of my sissy-cream from her full, red lips. She then returned her attention to our guest. "It's something that no amount of physical pain or pleasure could ever achieve in your . . . boys."

"You can stop now, Countess. I am convinced." As our guest rose from his chair, he propped a small, black business card upon the mantelpiece. "I am sure Francis will not like it, but you have won. Congratulations."

That said, he took his leave of the Countess' presence.

I sensed I was missing something. The Countess' affairs were none of my business, but the strangeness of the encounter had made me curious. I, of course, knew better than to ask, but she saved me the trouble.

"Heathyr? Join me on the couch for a moment." She certainly didn't need to ask me twice. I beamed with delight as I crawled onto the sprawling leather couch and snuggled up beside her. Tender moments like this were far and few between in our relationship, but that only served to strengthen the bond between us. I loved her as much for who she was, as for who she was allowing me to become.

"You made me very proud today, Heathyr. When I first came to Francis with my . . . request . . . he insisted that you weren't ready. He refused to accept how far you'd come in such a short time." She chuckled softly. "I offered to prove him wrong."

As she stroked my hair and kissed the back of my neck, the Countess filled me in on the details of her wager - and the prize. The wager itself was simple: all I had to do was prove my femininity to a neutral observer. It had taken a long while to agree on Nathaniel, but his reputation as one of the best slave-trainers around sealed the wager. Of course, the fact that he only trained slave-boys had seemed to give Francis the edge, but the Countess was confident I could convince even him.

"Then I did well, Countess? I made you proud?"

"That, and more." She grinned as she pushed me to the edge of the couch. "Fetch me the card he left on the mantelpiece and return to my embrace. Quickly."

I scurried to do her bidding, and then settled myself down in her arms again.

"Originally, Heathyr, I'd only approached Francis about fulfilling one of your immediate desires." She caressed my chest, my face, and my throat. Although the hormones - natural, prescription, and second-hand from the Countess herself - were slowly working their magic, I still had to do a lot of work to help nature along.

"Thanks to his own stubbornness and your delightful performance," she told me, "we need not settle for just one." The Countess rolled atop me and began slowly peeling the wax from my nipples. "We can discuss that in more detail tomorrow, though, when we pay Doctor Francis a visit in his office."

With a nervous smile on my lips, I looked into her eyes and asked, "Doctor?"

"Yes, a Doctor." The Countess turned herself around and began lowering herself over my face again. "Doctor Francis, plastic surgeon." She pressed the damp lips of her pussy to my face, then suddenly pulled away. "Oh, and did I mention he is the leading specialist in sexual reassignment surgery in all of North America?"

My startled gasp was swallowed by her vagina.

"Hmmm." The Countess chuckled softly. "Didn't think so."

******

END

I hope you enjoyed my little story . . . it was definitely a different one for me. Pain is not something I'm generally into but, in this case, the setting seemed to demand it of me. I know a story is developing as it should when the characters take control and push the story in directions I never intended to take it. If you did enjoy it, I would absolutely love to hear about it.