Little Miss-Taken


Please do not read if under 18 years of age or offended by sexually explicit stories and situations.

I've been doing a little winter cleaning. Anyway, so I found this story that's been on my hard-drive gathering dust. It had set there so long, that I had just about given up on it, but thankfully, Vickie Tern was kind enough to come over and help me clean it up.


I was dusting beneath the ottoman when the doorbell rang. It only took one little chime to send my pulse to racing and cause my heart to gallop in my chest. Usually, if I kept totally focused on what Mistress wanted, everything would be okay. However, unforeseen events, like doorbells for instance, almost always spelled trouble.

I hurried upstairs to find my Mistress and curtsied automatically as I entered her room. "Mistress, there is someone at the door."

She stood with her back to me, stepping into a small black dress. "You think I don't know that," she said. "Zip me bitch."

I could feel myself grow aroused at the sight of her half naked body. 'You're just the maid - you're just the maid', I repeated in my head. I zipped her dress and picked a stray piece of lint off her shoulder.

"I want you to go let the guest in now Stacy and show her to the living room. It is going to be very important that you remember all your lessons. As a matter of fact, you might say this is a KEY moment."

My heart went beyond racing - it galloped, it pounded, it gonged at the mention of a key. THE KEY. Yet through it all, I managed to keep my expression neutral. 'Smiling and submissive, smiling and submissive,' I repeated to myself.

"You do you remember your lessons, don't you Stacy?"

"Oh yes Mistress," I said, as I grabbed the hem of my short skirt, lifted it, and curtsied deeply. "Slut Stacy is happy to serve her Mistress. Happy and eager, but she has such a hard time thinking. It's good she has such a kind, smart, and generous mistress to tell her what to do."

I batted my eyes, pointed my toes together in my tall high-heeled shoes, giggled and licked my lips seductively. There was an art to acting like such a slutty bimbo, and it hadn't come easy, especially for me, but by now it was second nature.

"Very good Stacy. See that you remember or I will send you off again."

I fell to my knees and proceeded to lick her boots. I worshipped them with my tongue, begged her not to send me away, and meant it

"Stop your sniveling slut," she said. "Do something useful like answering the door."

My breasts had fallen out of their cups while I was down on the floor. "Oh you naughty - naughty girls," I giggled, as I pushed my bosoms back into their cups. Mistress smiled knowingly, but didn't laugh.

"That's my girl," Mistress said. "And remember bitch, happy, eager, and submissive."

"Yes, Mistress." I said, smiling and curtsying. How could I ever forget?

I hurried downstairs, opened the door, bowing as I did so. "Welcome to the Arlington residence. . .whoopsie daisy!" My breasts spilled out of the low cup top just like always. Of course I had to act surprised and stupid about the whole thing. I placed my hand over my nipples, and was just about to go into my 'naughty girls, you know better than that routine, when I glanced up at the visitor. My mouth hung open and my heart missed a beat, when I recognized the guest. It was Stacy! The real Stacy! My real Stacy. I closed my eyes momentarily and concentrated. God, this was bad. Really fucking bad. On a scale from one to ten, this was a fucking thirteen. 'Happy Eager Submissive Bimbo Fuck Toy Happy Eager Submissive Bimbo Fucktoy', I repeated in my mind. 'You are just the maid Stacy. Only the maid.'

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in character. "Mistress Amanda will be down shortly, follow me to the living room . . . I think it's this way"

"Thank you," she said, without a hint of recognition in her eyes. I could hear the amusement in her voice.

I led her to the living room, knowing full well she was watching me walk. I had practiced it often enough, and now it was second nature as I brought my foot forward and stepped inside the other with every step - rolling my hips as I did so. It was a walk that would shame a prostitute or exotic dancer. To make matters worse, my uniform was so short that it allowed whoever was behind me to see the cheeks of my bottom peek out with every step.

"Won't you have a seat Madame?" I asked, motioning her to the couch.

She sat down gracefully, and I waited patiently by the door. I did my best not to look at her, tried to blend into the palm that was beside me. I prayed she wouldn't

notice me - wouldn't notice who I was. I quivered inside, trembling in fear, wondering what my Mistress had planned.

Waiting was agony. I was so anxious that sweat was rolling down my arms. Thankfully, it wasn't but a few minutes before Amanda entered the room.

"Hello, Stacy, so nice of you to drop by," Amanda said, taking Stacy's hands and clasping them, before sitting down next to her.

"What is it exactly that you wanted to see me about?" Stacy asked, unsure of herself, and letting the question hang.

"Well Dearie, I've been so wrapped up in myself, you know, after Adam disappeared, that I really didn't think about anyone else. And then I felt quite guilty about it when I realized you must be going through a lot of grief yourself. So I thought we could have a chat and maybe rest your mind a bit."

"Uh-what do you mean?" Stacy said. Her voice trembled.

"Dear, I know all about you and Adam. There's nothing to worry about. I don't have a problem with it."

Stacy removed a hand from Amanda's grasp and pressed it to her breast. "Whew," she said. "Are you sure? God, I about peed myself when you called and asked me to come over here."

Amanda patted Stacy on the knee, in mock consolation. "Not at all dear. I feel sorry for you in a way, because Adam never was much of a lover."

My face burned as she continued.

"But you do have to understand that I would be upset with my husband. I mean, he couldn't even satisfy the woman he had at home and there he was flitting around like he was Mr. Man or something."

Amanda took a small bell from the table and rang it. "Stacy," she said to me. "Be a dear and fetch us a glass of wine. You know . . . the red stuff I keep in the special rack."

"Yes, Mistress," I said, curtsying quickly before Stacy looked in my direction.

I was trembling as I poured the wine. 'Happy-Eager-Submissive-Fucktoy', I repeated to try to still my shaking hands. Things weren't looking good for me, but Mistress had mentioned the key. THE KEY. I repeated my mantra and forgot about Stacy and concentrated on the key. I took a deep breath and plastered a dumb smile on my face before I returned to the living room.

Mistress Amanda took a glass of wine off the silver tray I carried and gave the other to Stacy. "Don't you think it's funny Stacy, how your name is Stacy and my maid is also named Stacy."

Oh God, here it was. Might as well paint a target on my forehead.

Stacy's brow wrinkled with uncertainty. "I guess it could be funny, but Stacy is a fairly popular name," Stacy said, looking at me as if for support. Her eyes saying, do you have put up with this often?

If only she knew what I had to put up with. This was nothing.

"I think the similarity goes beyond names," said Amanda. "Look closer, the resemblance between you two is uncanny."

Stacy looked at me closer this time. She recognized why her eyes were drawn to me before. I looked like her. Only while she was casually dressed, I was dressed in a humiliating maid's outfit, my waist shrunk to tiny proportions due to a restrictive corset, my breasts, the same size as hers were thrust up, practically spilling out of my low-cut top. She wore more makeup, but while hers was almost unnoticeable, my lips were painted a bright crimson and my eyelashes were so long they were clearly fake.

"She does look a little like me," Stacy said dubiously.

"A little?" Amanda said. "I daresay you could have been sisters. But enough about family, let's talk about lovers." To me: "Speaking of lovers. Stacy, why don't you go fetch your boyfriend and bring him here."

Oh God, it was happening. I curtsied, and saw Stacy head flash in my direction. I wondered if she had seen the glint of metal. If she hadn't she would soon enough.

I went to the bedroom, opened up the trunk and got out my 'boyfriend'. Amazing it could still make me blush. It wasn't just the size, but the shape. Twelve inches long, so wide that I couldn't close my hand around it. Flesh colored with realistic bumpy veins and a large bulbous head. On the side, written in pink magic marker, it said "Stacy's Cock." The irony wasn't lost on me. I went to the bathroom, took out the KY, and lubricated my rear passage for whatever was in store. 'Happy-eager-submissive-bimbo-fucktoy', I repeated as I went back to the living room to face the consequences of my past life.

When I came in the room with the strap-on dildo in my hands, Stacy's eyes opened wide in shock and panic.

"Don't worry dear," Amanda consoled her. That's my Stacy's boyfriend, and I don't think she wants to share, do you dear?"

"Oh no Mistress," I said, falling into my role easily, as I had done so many times before. Always the same. Always having to beg. I begged even when I used to hate it. I begged even now, though it terrified me that I was beginning to crave it. "Oh please Mistress, Slut Stacy's pussy is so horny. Her little girl needs a good fucking. Please Mistress, please fuck Slut Stacy with her boyfriend."

Mistress Amanda smiled wickedly. "I don't believe you even like your boyfriend. Maybe we should give him to our guest Stacy?"

"Oh no! Slut Stacy loves her boyfriend." I kissed the head of the latex cock. I could taste the latex. I used to hate it, but I didn't mind so much now. Next, I turned it to the side, pushed it in and out of my mouth, knowing how much of a slut I looked like with the cock-head pushing through the wall of my cheek. I refused to look at Stacy. I could only imagine what was going through her mind.

Mistress stood up and turned around. She spread her legs slightly and stuck out her arse. "Beg for it," she said.

I fell to my knees. I pulled down her panties with my teeth. While she stood there holding the hem of her skirt up, I pushed apart the cheeks of her bottom and planted a kiss of respect on her arsehole. I nibbled lightly at her pucker and flicked my tongue across it lightly.

"I said beg bitch. Get your face in there."

I realized that Mistress wasn't looking for pleasure, but wanted to humiliate me in front of our guest. I obliged her by pushing my tongue as far up her rear tunnel as I could. Humming happily and making sucking sounds as I did so. I tried my best to forget about Stacy there seeing my debasement. 'Happy, eager, submissive fuck toy', I repeated in my mind.

Most mornings, I would wake Mistress in the mornings by making love to her arse. I did it gently and then with more passion as she grew aroused. Finally, I would be allowed to move to her pussy until she was satisfied. That was for her pleasure. But now I was begging, and expected to act like the deprived slut I was, and Mistress took great pleasure in my humiliation.

"Oh yeah, that's it. Get it on up in there," she said. "You love it don't you bitch?"

I moaned my response.

"Uh, I think I better leave," I heard Stacy say.

"Sit!" my Mistress commanded. Then she realized she wasn't talking to me, but to someone who wasn't quite so eager or submissive, and then her tone softened. "Just a few minutes more Stacy. If you leave, I'm going to do something to hurt this little bitch, and you don't want that to happen now, do you?"

"Sorry," Stacy said, giving me a look of concern, but not that much concern. "B- but I gotta go."

"Convince her Slut." Amanda said.

I peeked around Mistress's arse. "Please Stacy. Please don't go. She'll hurt me. She will." Tears rolled from my eyes and my bottom lip trembled. I could play the part of victim as easily as I could play bimbo. Stacy eased back into her seat. She still looked over toward the door to make sure the path was clear. I couldn't blame her. I wish I had been able to leave long ago when I had the chance.

"Strap it on me Slut," Mistress commanded.

I picked up the strap on, inserted the smaller end into Mistress's sex. I buckled the straps around her thighs and waist; I could do it in my sleep.

"Come here slut." Mistress pointed to floor at her feet, directly in front of Stacy. "Down here in front of me."

I dropped to my hands and knees in front of her and in front of Stacy. I gazed down at her shoes - sensible sandals that matched her sundress. I would never be allowed to wear either. My heels were always impossibly high. The arches of my feet had been adjusted so that was all that I could never wear anything without a four inch heel again. My dresses were short and tight. My outfits were anything but sensible. I was only allowed to wear maid's outfits, schoolgirl uniforms, nurse's uniforms, or even nun's habits with the back cut out. These were my clothes. And you know what they say . . . the clothes make the person.

Mistress knelt behind me and pressed the head of the dildo against my opening. "Do you want it Slut?"

"Oh yes Mistress. Slut Stacy's little girl needs her boyfriend's big fat cock. Slut Stacy needs to be fucked. Please fuck Slut Stacy. Fuck her little girl. Fuck her hot twat." She drove it into me then and there. Fucking me. Fucking me right in front of Stacy. I was so close to her, my head would occasionally bounce into her knee. She looked at the door, trying to ignore the debacle that was going on right in front of her.

I grunted and groaned. I rutted. I sucked my fingers. I squealed. I pulled on my pierced nipples. I was an eager, happy, submissive fuck toy. I hadn't cum for some time - a very long time. Yet, occasionally it felt like I would be able to . . .and this was one of those times. However, I couldn't quite make it happen.

You would never know it though. To listen to me, you would think I was multi- orgasmic. Mistress made sure of it, made sure I could fool anyone. By now I could almost fool myself.

I wiggled my ass and pushed back against my Mistress, meeting her stroke for stroke. Meeting her eagerly. Our bodies slapped together. I curled my toes and screwed my face up in mock passion. "Ugh-ugh-Slut Stacy's gonna cum. Oh fuck - oh fuck, gonna cum so hard!"

Amanda slapped my ass and pulled my head back by my hair. "You love it don't you Slut. You love getting fucked, don't you? I said don't you?"

"Slut Stacy loves it. She loves it so much. Oh God-god Huh-huh-huh . . .here it cums. The biggest cum ever . . . fuck - oh fuck - it's fucking killing me. I'm dying. Ugh-I'm dying....Mmmm-mmmm---mmmmppph- cumming." I was faking of course. But, I was good at it. Meg Ryan was a fucking amateur in Harry Met Sally.

I arched my body one final time and kissed Stacy's knee. She pulled it away from me.

"Can I go now?" she was all she said.

"Just one more moment Stacy," Amanda said, as she grabbed me under my arms and pulled me up against her. My breasts had been bared during my fucking. She hooked her fingers in the rings through my pierced nipples and pulled until I moaned. I held my hands laced behind my neck obediently. I didn't need to be told.

Her hand traveled down my stomach and moved to the hem of my skirt. The blood pounded in my ears. The moment had arrived. Then Mistress raised my skirt and displayed me to Stacy.

"Are you sure you don't recognize anything?" Amanda asked, squeezing my balls and pulling my sleeved cock away from my body.

"Oh my God," Stacy gasped. "She has a penis. She is a . . .she is a he!"

I could my heart pounding as the blood flowed to my blushing cheeks.

"More than that," Amanda laughed. "You've slept with her. As a matter of fact, you two used to be lovers."

"Adam?" Stacy looked at my face, searching and unable to find any trace of my former existence, except for my tears. "Oh my God. Adam! But that's impossible."

"Nothing's impossible," Amanda said. "I'm a plastic surgeon and I've had quite a lot of time on my hands. Time enough to change Adam into what you see here."

"You did this on purpose? " Stacy cupped my face in her hands then turned to Amanda. "Made him look like me. What on earth would you do that for?"

"He wanted you. I simply gave him what he wanted, didn't I, slut?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"You let her do this to you?" Stacy asked; her face incredulous.

"Yes," I admitted, repeating my mantra, 'happy eager submissive bimbo', in my head. It was true. I had let her do it to me. Had even asked for some of it, thinking it would be something else. But now I couldn't explain to her that I'd been tricked. No, that would certainly be against the rules. Eager- yes, I had to be eager. I couldn't tell her that Amanda had found out about us, found out that I intended to leave her to live with Stacy, just as we'd agreed. That I'd had no warning. That one day Amanda merely mentioned that I was getting a little fat around my middle and under my chin.

"You should let me take care of that for you," she said.

It sounded good at first. She was a brilliant plastic surgeon. It would also make me more attractive to Stacy and it would be my last opportunity to have it done for free. I should have known better. I should have suspected, but I was greedy and like an idiot, I agreed. Told everyone I was going on an extended vacation, just like my wife suggested. Just like all the stars did it.

It didn't work out like I had planned. Not by a long shot.

When I woke up, my wife greeted me with tears. Crocodile tears. "There's been a terrible mishap during the surgery, but don't worry. I'm the best at what I do. I'll have you back in shape before you know it."

I kissed her. I felt guilty for cheating on her. Can you believe it? Felt ashamed for falling in love with another woman. So I consented to other 'corrective' operations. I needed to at that point. Would Stacy want some mangled leper of a man? No, I was sure she wouldn't. There were many other operations, and I never guessed the truth about them. Not until I was home and the bandages were removed.

The first thing I noticed was breasts. Nice perky beautiful womanly breasts - breasts that belonged on a woman, not a man. I tried to scream but my wife gagged me. I tried to fight back, but she easily overpowered me. It was then I discovered I was weaker than before. What had she done to me?

She took out a mirror and showed me the rest of her work. God, it was horrible. My body was beautiful, but it was the body of my mistress and not my own. I feared for the loss of my cock, the rest could be fixed one way or another. But it was there, thank the Lord, it was down there safe and sound.

Yes, it was still there, but there was a problem. There was some sort of ring locked around it. A KTB she called it. I learned later that KTB is short for Kali's Teeth Bracelet, a small tube that fits around your cock. It's the teeth part that gets you. When you get aroused, your cock expands . . . and comes into contact with sharp pointy spikes.

Did you know that you get hard in your sleep? You do - several times a night. Now, try to imagine waking up to sharp objects sticking into your cock. Imagine for a moment being teased by your wife and forced to think of other things to avoid being aroused. Here let me help you out. Don't think of a pussy. See what I mean? Imagine responding as a man does, only to have Kali's teeth waiting. Imagine your moans and cries of helpless frustration being taken for signs of feminine arousal. It was horrible torture. A thousand times I wanted to leave, but my wife had insisted she would change me back once I learned my lesson. Learned what it was like to be used.

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