La Traviata

Max knew. He always wanted the best. After a very light foundation and a rosy rouge on the cheeks, Rosalie applied false eyelashes; they always brighten the eyes and accentuate femininity. The eye shadow was a mix of soft lavender blue with silver accents and with the eyeliner and mascara producing a bright, cheery, sexy look. Doing the lips last, Rosalie made my lips blossom like the prettiest rose. She really was quite skilled as she finished dabbing the last luster of sparkly rose-pink lip gloss on me.

"Jou's very prettys fors a boy," she commented. "Would jous likes to look?" she asked, then handed me a hand mirror.

My best attempts at makeup always made me look decent but never this good. The twinge of the amphetamines was just beginning to awaken inside me. Never did I recall a sense of lucidity I was now experiencing. The lights in the bathroom were pulsating with brightness, shining off the mirror. Inside of me a shiver of acceptance told me this was all so fantastic, that there was nothing wrong with being this type of homosexual, that how fortunate was I, to be here in this exotic moment in space and time. I must admit that in the recent past, I had been meticulous about hygiene, lotions, skin and nail care at home. It was something that I did to maintain my sense of femininity as much as possible without being too obvious to Mary, my wife. My wiry frame with skinny fingers and toes lent well to nail polish; it was something I rarely did at home, but the few times I was able to paint both fingers and toes my love of being feminine soared through the roof.

By the time Rosalie had done both my hands and feet in a lustrous shade of burgundy purple red, the amphetamines were more than taking effect. Not one or two pills, three I had taken. I was buzzing. It was quite a new sensation as I became euphoric and giddy. This was becoming greater fun with each passing fizzy moment. My penis was getting hard, to my embarrassment, knowing Rosalie was going to dress me. When she told me to open my robe "let's see" I was three quarters erect and growing. If I was surprised by the dawning of amphetamines into the equation where this journey was heading, the journey really had not even begun.

As Rosalie stared at my naked, shaved body, focused on my nearly erect penis, her intent look told me something would be happening. Filling the sink again with warm water and pulling a razor from her case she simply said "we needs to fix" in her broken English. The razor she dropped into the sink of warm water as she then pulled an electric trimmer from her case.

For all my fussing through the years about shaving my legs and underarms and maintaining a soft feminine body, my pubic hairs I only trimmed lower, no full-scale landscaping into a landing strip, my pubes were still nearly a full growth in my fear that if I went too far Mary would notice. My balls and anus, I kept shaved; my pubic region fully intact. If I tingled before, when Rosalie held onto my erect penis and started mowing my pubes with the electric trimmer the whole totality of sensation made my amphetamine fueled tingle turn into a rumble.

She was holding onto my erect penis shaving my pubes like any "Carlos" would be trimming the hedges, just going about their work. It was so clinical, like it was no big deal. She was holding onto my erect penis for heaven's sake! Then the reality of her shaving my pubes and the thoughts going through my mind about what if Mary noticed the shave job crept in as she had sculpted out a "landing strip" the width of a Band-Aid yet half as long.

These guilty thoughts soon dissipated as she set down the electric trimmer and placed a warm wet washcloth over the region. My erection subsided a bit as she lathered and began shaving me with the warm wet razor. Rosalie was efficient and expedient as she pulled my penis from one side then the other carefully shaving the new areas and cleaning up any spot I may have missed from my bath earlier. By the time she was finished and toweling the area dry then applying lotion the herkie jerky motion of her moving my penis from one side to the other had again produced quite a substantial erection on my part.

What followed then made my amphetamine fueled high reach levels into a strange reality I could never have known would be forth coming. Rosalie opened a box from her case, producing something I knew exactly what it was, a hot pink hard plastic male chastity device.

"Why?" I gasped as Rosalie disassembled the cock cage for reassembly over my penis.

"Mr. Maximillian say jou must. Like he tells to me shave to jou proper," she explained as she ran a finger over her handiwork of the newly shaved areas above my penis, her broken English augmenting the trippy-ness of the scene.

From the perspective of a beta male, a chastity device is simultaneously intoxicating and intimidating as well as highly arousing. Truth be known, I had toyed with a cheap Chinese chastity device in the past; many crossdressers and gender bending people do. While sex with my wife was a once-a-week affair, masturbation took place every day (sometime two or three times a day). A myriad of porn themes aroused me; seeing crossdressers, femboys and trans girls in chastity devices rivaled the sight of big hard hairy cocks in producing the rigidity of my erections.

Can't explain it, but seeing femboys and traps, flat chested and pretty, with their little peenies locked up in any assortment chastity cages excited me hundreds of times over what overblown shemales with large fake tits and massive cocks did for me. Bimbo shemales are gross, femboys are hot, I know, 'cause that's exactly what I am. Seeing Nyxi Leon riding a cock with her pink caged penis floppin' around always makes me stiff as steel. So, all the times masturbating fiercely to the sight of a pretty femme boi in a cage was now coming home to roost.

As Rosalie fidgeted with the very pink, expensive chastity cage, there was one minor little problem. No way it would be fitted over my still very erect penis. Having a woman make me up pretty, dope me up on amphetamines, shave off most of my pubes, moving my penis from side to side in doing so and me standing there naked in front of her, my erection was not going anywhere. It was obvious that she had fitted these contraptions on penises before. Rosalie took stock of the situation and the time. It was getting obvious to her on how make an erection subside enough to get the thing fitted, by producing an ejaculation. Sure, ice could be applied to the penis but many times with the ring around the balls the touch of the a woman's hand will just lead you back to square one with a rebounding erection.

"Okay, Bo-bee, we do theess," she said as she grasped my penis and gently began pulling on it. "We has lots to do's before Maximillian is here." It was the first time she called me by my name, Bobbi, which came out "Bo bee" with her accent.

Rosalie pulled on my penis mechanically and I admit it felt very good. I was incredibly hard. She was not here to have sex with me, she was here to do a job, whether it be makeup, dress me, shave me or a hand job to move on to other fittings. Perhaps because of the amphetamines and the unreality of the situation the more she pulled and played with my penis the harder I got. But as hard as I was, I wasn't even close to coming, not by a long shot, much like a piss hard on where you can't cum because you must pee so bad. I didn't have to pee; I just was not anywhere close to cumming, yet as hard as I can ever recall.

After several long minutes Rosalie could gauge what was happening as she glanced at her wristwatch. Knowing things had to get moving along before Max showed up, she said "here's, let's go to try theess, Bo-bee." Stopping for a moment she rummaged through a pocket in the case and produced a pink, clear silicone anal bead string, small bead at the end graduating larger beads stiffly attached to each other. The first few beads were dipped in a dab of Vaseline. She sat on the commode and poked around till she found the opening between my cheeks.

Needless to say, she was certain this stimulation would help produce the desired result, telling me "jou do" as she pushed my hand toward my penis. With the slippery anal bead string tickling up into my boy cunny, me jacking off for her, it would soon lead to success. She could tell by the pace of my jacking and increased heartbeat and heavy breathing I was getting close. The naughty sensation of having her molest a greased anal toy into my freshly shaved boy cunny was doing the trick. She was a pro.

Kind enough to help out, she fondled my balls with her other hand and just as I was about to cum, she slid her hand replacing mine and the return touch of her hand made my ejaculation squirt out all over the black and white hex tile of the bathroom floor. In methodical fashion she was nice enough to keep going, allowing me to enjoy what might be my last penile orgasm of the weekend. The anal beads toy tingled divine up my cunny as Rosalie squeezed and shook the last oozing of cum dripping out my penis. When she pulled the toy from my anus, the rippling sensation of the beads as they journeyed to daylight produced another ooze of spermies out the tingling tip of my penis.

Deftly, she then wiped me clean with a warm wet cloth, lubed up my smooth shaved balls and penis and fitted the pink cock cage in place over my "manhood". As the shiver of amphetamines coursed through me and my spent penis, Rosalie sealed the deal with a cute, flimsy heart shaped lock, entrapping any feeble hope of escape; resistance in my buzzed state, not an option. As I tried to process the sensation of my freshly shaved and freshly ejaculated penis in its lovely pink prison, the way things had been twisting and turning on this excursion of body and mind, Rosalie opened her palm with another pill for me to take. Again, like when first viewing the chastity device, I knew exactly what it was. I'd seen the ads for the tear dropped shaped yellow pill, Cialis.

Why? Why with an overactive libido coupled with my ability to easily become erect and ejaculate two or three times a day, why would I need to be tormented by taking an erection producing drug while my penis is entrapped in its lovely bright pink cage? "Because Maximillian want it," or "Maximillian say jous must," I knew Rosalie would tell me. So, I didn't even question her and sheepishly took the tablet and washed it down with a sip of Scotch, now quite watered-down after only taking one prior sip before Rosalie began her chores on me. Rosalie looked at my lips and touched up my lip gloss after the imprints I had left on the glass.

"Okay, we go," she said walking out into the bedroom, surveying the plethora of gift boxes strewn neatly about the bed and on the floor beside the bed. Spying one, she correctly guessed it was what she was searching for she handed it to me to open. I was naked still, except if you counted the bright pink chastity cage covering my penis. Opening the box. a stylish strawberry blond shoulder length wig was unveiled. Rosalie fitted it on me, fussed only a little with it commenting "very nice" as she handed me a flat gift box. Inside was an exquisite pair of Italian white stockings with six-inch wide embroidered lace bands as well as a thin matching white lace garter belt and a silky white thong.

When the next box opened contained a gorgeous bright white bustier, at this point it did not take a rocket scientist to figure out things were taking on very much a "bridal" theme. Huge display of flowers. Dom Perignon on ice. Bridal lingerie. Max was all about theatrics. Guess I shouldn't complain as I would be the center of attention. Great, Maximillian was going to marry me whether I wanted to or not. Surely my wife Mary wouldn't mind. Surely, she would have no issues that I was a crossdressing closet homosexual who was the love interest of a gay man about to stage our fake wedding. Surely the fact that our vanilla once-a-week sex life held my interest so little that I was a chronic masturbator when not being a sexy "girl" for this admiring man, surely that would not bother her. Surely not.

As Rosalie prepared to help me with the stockings and the garter belt, we both noticed a rather large gob of cum had leaked out to the front of the lovely pink chastity device, hanging obscenely and about to make a stain on the pristine bridal wear. She made a comment in her native tongue that I did not understand and trooped to the bathroom for a washcloth and some tissue. Upon cleaning the cage and stuffing the tissue into the pee hole slit she commented "behave" looking at my pretty pink penis packed into its pretty pink prison. Oh, not to worry, Rosalie, "peter" has no choice but to behave himself now, courtesy his new pink home. She tossed the panties to the side of the bed saying, "we do's later" and "every-tings haves to be perfect for mister Maximillian, no messes".

With the stockings, garter belt and bustier in place my guess was shoes and dress were next, then any bling and of course the panties, provided "peter" had stopped drooling semen. The dress was fabulous. Must have cost a fortune. It hugged my shoulders with puffy short sleeves, was open in the front from the neck to my "breasts" then shiny sateen hugged the outline of the bustier, tight around the midsection then opened at the waist with almost a ballerina waist of stiff crepe georgette. This garment was short in front and longer in back but only to the back of my knees. From the front it really showed off my stocking encased legs. I was excited we were getting close and after a quick inspection by Rosalie of the front of the chastity cage, she fished out the tissue left there to soak up any leakage and fitted me in the silky pristine white thong. The shoes were silver high heel open toe strappy sandals that framed my stocking encased feet and legs, with the lovely shade of my toes visible through the stockings.

Done! I thought as I wobbled around in the heels to an admiring and smirking Rosalie, wobbling more from the continuing buzz of the amphetamines not letting up, than the high heels which I actually loved walking adeptly in. A few tugs and adjustments here and there by Rosalie, a thorough look at my makeup with a few quick touch ups, her allowing me a fresh couple of sips of Scotch with new ice and Scotch before touching up the lips. She had done a very, very good job, keeping at it methodically; it was fifteen minutes before Max was to arrive. In the room, there were still a few more unopened gift boxes in fancy wrapping and big bows on them, by this point I was feeling very special. And feeling quite buzzed. I was a doll, a made-up doll in an exquisite wedding dress. As Rosalie and I waited a bit awkwardly in anticipation we heard voices outside coming down the hallway. Without having to knock Rosalie opened the door for Max, who trooped in beaming. Following him in was a man with a beard in Max's age range wearing wire rim glasses and a woolen grey jacket with a priest's collar.

CHAMPAGNE ON ICE

"Bobbi, you look heavenly," Maximillian beamed as he kissed me on the cheek. "Bobbi, Father Ramos." as he introduced me to the man who may or may not have been a real priest. "Rosalie, you outdid yourself! You are without equal," Max told her as she smiled brightly and took the envelope he handed her.

With introductions over and Rosalie out the door Max looked me over admiringly as we held hands. I was so buzzed. Being there in high heels and a wedding dress I may have gotten an erection, which was now not possible but with Maximillian taking liberties reaching under my dress in back fondling my thong clad tushie, what sexual arousal I did feel was now manifest by a funny feeling in my balls and chastity device. Before anything else was to register, Max pulled out a small silver canister like a small snuff box, opened it, dug a small spoon into it and took a snort of white powder in each nostril. Then to "Father Ramos" he gave a few spoons. Turning to me with "Sweetheart", I indulged a few snorts, not really knowing why, but knowing how it was done from the movies.

Like I needed more stimulation. Wow, I could barely stand at this point as Max made a comment that the photographers would be here shortly. Photographers? Max was ALL about theatrics. Guessing I was just along for the ride. When the photographers arrived, one with a camera that looked like a cannon, the other with video gear, a rumble of anticipation ran through me. Father Ramos then pinned a pink rose on Max's lapel. I was beyond buzzed as Father Ramos herded Max and me into the living room as the photographer staged us and snapped photos. Shortly, Father Ramos announced "Let the ceremony begin".

"We are gathered here for the marriage of Bobbi and Maximillian," he spoke as Max, and I smiled at each other. The unreality of the whole event coupled with my denied libido and massive buzz gave me a shiver inside with a weird tingle in my caged penis. 'Father Ramos' continued with some made up gobbly-gook religious blather with a few "domini, domini, domini's" thrown in for good measure.

"Do you, Bobbi, take Maximillian as your, (cough, cough, clearing throat) not so lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," I said, beaming at Max. I had to admit this was fun, much more fun than my real wedding to Mary.

"Do you, Maximillian, take Bobbi as your lovely wife?" 'Father Ramos asked.

"I do," Max emphatically answered as he beamed at me.

Father Ramos handed Max a box with a ring in it, which he opened and slid on my finger. It was fabulous, much shinier and diamond laced than the simple gold wedding band that I had ditched into my bath bag. So much more fun being the girl.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," 'Father Ramos' announced and went on with "you may now kiss the bride."

With that Max pulled me back in his arms and smothered me with a massive kiss. Father Ramos and the photographers clapped and cheered politely. Once released from the embrace, Max led me over to the credenza where the Dom Perignon was on ice. Father Ramos was popping the cork to more polite cheer from the few in attendance, the photographers. They continued filming as the traditional coupe champagne glasses were filled. Max loved telling me that the shallow coupe style champagne glass was molded from the impression of the left breast of the queen of France, Marie Antoinette, wife of King Louis XVI. Claudia Schiffer and Dom Perignon notwithstanding, glasses of bubbly clinked together in celebration. And as was his nature Max's hand found its way under my dress several times copping some serious feels of my thong clad lovely tushie.

As we drank and socialized, I smirked and giggled in my giddiness. Max lifted my dress in front for Father Ramos, showing off my pristine white panties with the lovely bright pink chastity device showing through the white panties, bulging noticeably and unmistakably. Surprised not at all when Father Ramos reached down, pulled my pink caged penis from the panties and gave it a thorough inspection. Lifting by the balls of my pink caged penis, he fondled and felt the weight of my incarcerated genitals and said, "what a perfect wife."

With the amphetamines, coke and champagne coursing through me and my pretty pink imprisoned sex organ being fussed over by the "priest" it was now Max who held my caged balls in his hands, while the Cialis piled on to my buzz. Inside the chastity device my pretty penis was engorged and aroused, a clear drop of pre cum glistening as my new "husband" fondled my caged genitals. So, with my vivacity fueled by drugs and champagne, I became rather "forward", so to speak, and began rubbing Max in the front of his pants. Backing up into him, he kissed me on the neck from behind as I continued rubbing him as he continued agitating my caged genitals.