Miranda Receives Her Reward

She had a voice mail even though she couldn't remember missing a call.

The voice was immediately familiar although she had to cast her mind back for the name. James Upton. The former head of store security at the big shop in town. She had been victim to his wicked desires twice now. The first time against her will but with her approval as he and a colleague restrained her and used her roughly in a workroom below the store. The second time she attended a hotel room party that he invited her to. Invited implies she had a choice and of course she did but there was a clear threat behind it if she had decided to stay away. In the end she could think of very little that would have kept her from attending. She was the star turn and James and three friends used her until she was aching inside and out and filled and covered with their cum. It had been one of the greatest little adventures of her life.

And now he was back after a very long break when she'd been sure she'd been used up, discarded and left.

"Miranda," he said. "You know this voice so you know you can trust me to bring you a good time even if you're not sure if you can always trust me. And I bet you thought I'd forgotten you too. I've just been waiting for the right time to give you a gift for the fun you brought so far to me and my very grateful friends.

Next Wednesday there will be a present waiting for you at the following address."

She grabbed a pen and a notepad and scribbled down the details - a house in Kingston from the address and description.

"Don't go there until after 4pm and make sure you have left before 10pm. There is no flexibility on those times so don't fuck it up. But as long as you stay inside those times then you can turn up as early as four oh one and leave as late as nine fifty nine, it's up to you. Just don't be early arriving or late leaving.

Your present will be waiting in the bedroom upstairs. The house is yours to use as long as you remember it's someone's home and pay due respect. No damage or permanent stains to the house, please. Bedclothes and towels and those sorts of things can be more easily understood.

What you do with your gift is up to you. Permanent damage will be unfortunate but accidents can happen, I know. This is a very bad boy who became a very good boy and strange as it may seem, you are a gift to him too. The difference being that you are in charge. He's clean inside and out and he's been freshly checked with a clean bill of health. And he'll be whatever you want him to be until you leave. People will follow you in when you've left and make sure he's okay and help him if he needs help. If he needs help will be up to you, of course. Nobody else will disturb you between four and ten and the only real limits are your imagination. Should anything go wrong or break these simple rules then ring me on this number immediately. Otherwise don't worry about clearing any mess up before you leave. That's all part of the gift.

Perhaps you'll hear from me again someday but maybe not. Sometimes people like you and me should only meet briefly and beautifully as we travel life's highways, don't you think?

Bye bye and enjoy next Wednesday."

And then he was gone and the network lady's voice was asking whether she wanted to repeat, save or delete the message. She listened twice more to check the details and then saved the message just in case.

Five days until Wednesday and not an hour went by that Miranda didn't try to anticipate what or who she'd find when she got there. On the day she called a cab to pick her up at 3:30pm The Kingston address was less than a 30 minute drive but she wanted to see it before she just turned up. She took no bookings the night before or for Wednesday morning and so she slept quite long and quite well and didn't rise fully until a little after ten in the morning. She spent the next few hours, eating, bathing and leisurely preparing herself for the magical transformation into the beautiful Miranda. But she stopped short of finishing the magic. Her wig, her makeup, her perfume, her chosen outfit and a few other accessories were packed very neatly into an overnight suitcase and with some money, her keys and her phone she was ready when the cab pulled up outside.

She stepped out and locked up and approached the car. The driver lowered his window and said, "Cab for Yashvir?" That was the name she used for outsiders when she was in "boy mode". She climbed in the back with her case and shut the door. She gave the driver the address of a shop at the end of the road from the house in Kingston she was going to visit. She'd looked it up the day previously on Google Maps. The cabbie fed it into his sat nav on the dashboard. It only took fifteen minutes to get to the residential street in Kingston. A quiet road, lined with parked cars but no traffic or people moving along it. She got the driver to roll slowly past the address she'd been given. It was just another house among many. It was a double glazed, terraced, two-storey house. It looked well maintained and inconspicuous.

As she scrutinised it as they passed she noticed two things that made the butterflies start inside her - the upstairs curtains were closed and the front door was open - just a tiny bit and probably not enough to be noticed by a passer-by unless they were looking as keenly as she was. She got the driver to pull up at the end of the road, in an easy drop off/pick up area of parking for a local Co-op store. She paid him the fee with a good tip to make sure he would return to the same place to collect her at 9:45pm that evening. He took the money and promised to be there on time. He even gave her his mobile number on a business card which she tucked into her back pocket.

At 3:58 she left the cab with her overnight case and the cab drove away. She looked down the road and saw nobody. Just a warm afternoon with a hint of summer breeze drifting through the trees that lined the road. She walked past the house, stopping outside the next garden to adjust something on her case and look at something on her phone. In reality though, she used the opportunity to look again at the house, through the bushes in the front gardens. The front door was definitely the tiniest bit ajar. Her phone said it was now 4:01. She walked on and went once round the block. Her heart was beating rapidly and she used the walk to calm her down. She just breathed deeply and walked slowly, in time with her breathing. The twin rhythms controlled her heartbeat and by the time she approached the house again, she was calm and focused. She went straight up the garden path and quietly pushed the front door open.

She entered into a very small porch or vestibule and she had to shuffle round to get her case inside with her before she could shut the front door. She closed it very quietly and opened the inner door that led directly into a living room. Nothing unusual in the room. No noises from within the house. She put her case on the floor by the door and took off her shoes, placing them beside the case. She wandered softly and silently through the living room into a kitchen and dining room. She tried the door that led to the back garden. It was locked and the key was on the nearby window sill. She tried it to make sure it fit and she opened the back door.

She stepped out and surveyed the back garden. It was small and very neat and despite the huddle of houses in this street and the one behind, it was not easily overlooked as it was well shaded and wrapped around with trees and bushes. At the very back there were a series of high bamboos in full leaf, gently rustling when the breeze blew through. She felt calm and safe for the moment and she locked the door back up and returned the key to the window sill. She went back to the living room to where the stairs led to the top floor. Gripping the handrail she stepped very slowly and cautiously upstairs, testing each step for creaking before settling her full weight upon it. Slowly but silently she climbed to the top where a tiny landing fed away to the right and the left.

To the left, the door was fully open and sunlight flooded in through a window of a back bedroom that had been set up as an office and dressing room. She stepped inside and discovered that leading off from this room was the toilet and bathroom that were at the back of the house. She went into the bathroom. A man's house, clearly. Neat but without feminine touches and all the toiletries were masculine. The towels were not the soft and fluffy consistency of a 5-star hotel but they were clean and soft enough and there were plenty of them stacked upon a wicker linen basket. The toilet seat was down but the lid was raised and happily the bowl was empty and clean. She saw herself in the mirror of the cabinet above the sink and saw two things that shifted the focus of her thoughts. The first was her boy face and boy clothes staring back at her - a reminder that she had yet to use the items in her case that she'd left downstairs. The second was a huge wall mirror that was beside the bath and overhead shower behind her. Whoever lived here had no qualms about watching themselves bathing, however they chose to do it.

She stepped through the back bedroom back onto the landing and stared at the door to what must be the front bedroom. The door was half open and half closed and she could see that it was dark inside. The curtains were closed, as she'd already seen from the street. Sunlight filtered through them so the room wasn't pitch black, just shadowy. She put her face to the door jamb and peered through the crack below the hinges. She silently stared as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light and there she could see in the gloom, a naked man, spread eagled on his back on a double bed, his ankles and wrists tied to keep him in position.

He had a dark head of hair and that shame dark hair covered his chest and ran in a thick line down past his navel to what seemed to be a neatly trimmed bush of thick pubic hair. His cock was flaccid and rested toward his left thigh. Even soft it seemed to be quite plump and have some weight. He was uncut. He was clearly a white man but his cock was a much darker shade of skin than his body. He was muscular, not very tall, maybe 5' 8". He had hairy legs, a clean shaven face and was wearing a blindfold and was gagged. His breathing was not slow and deep enough for her to think he was asleep. He was patiently awaiting his fate.

She wanted him to know she was there, in case his senses had not already detected that someone else was present. She trusted that his blindfold would hold and was sufficient to keep him without sight and she pushed open the door and entered the gloomy bedroom.

It was Miranda that purred a soft "Hello, you" to him. His head turned a little toward her voice. She rolled the blinds on the window up about a quarter of the way to let some more natural light in and she looked around. She passed across the foot of the bed and let her fingertips brush his bound feet. He flinched the tiniest bit at her touches. She saw two things that drew her attention other than the man on the bed. The first was a music unit set up by a TV near the second window. She turned it on and found it playing some very soft, supper-club jazz. She turned the volume low but loud enough to take away the silence of the empty house. She also saw that directly above the bed there was a ceiling fan.

The house had been built in a Georgian style and the ceiling was quite high for a suburban house - about nine feet. This meant that the fan was probably about eight feet or a little less above the floor level. She made a mental note not to stand upright on the bed and she found the fan switch was over by the light switch next to the door. She turned it on and took a few moments to work the controls to get the right setting of a gentle waft with barely a hint of sound from the turning blades.

She climbed onto the bed upon her knees and leaning forward she clamped her teeth upon his cock. She squeezed her jaw closed until she heard him grunt in fear or pain and then she released him.

"Now that should have some effect, I'm hoping," she said. "By the time I return I expect to see you as big and as hard as you get. I want toys to play with and I don't want them too soft for the games I like."

She eased herself up the bed and gave him a very soft and tender kiss on the lips. She could taste his breath and was pleased to discover that he was clean and there was the hint of menthol toothpaste or mouthwash and the flavour of something sweet like peach. She ran her tongue inside his mouth, along his lower lip from one side to the other and when she felt his own tongue sliding out in response, she knelt back up and slid away from him. She climbed off the bed and said, "Do you need a drink? Or a pee?"

"No thank you, Mistress," he said. What a good boy. Good manners, well trained and submissive and he either knew to expect a T-Girl or he just responded to the timbre of her voice.

"OK then. Get hard, stay cool and I'll be back when I'm ready to play."

She left the room and pulled the door to without shutting it completely. She went downstairs and explored the kitchen a little better. She found a freezer that contained ice. A fridge that contained bottled water. A cupboard that contained drinking glasses. And a table that had a note upon it addressed to her:

"Miranda - the house and its contents are all at your disposal. Eat, drink and be merry. Your friends."

She searched the cupboards until she found some drinking straws and she took a couple and a bottle of cold water, filled two glasses with ice and then collected her case from the living room and returned upstairs. She went to the second bedroom that was clearly set up as a dressing room. It was ideal for her as it was at the rear of the house and she could let natural light flood in without any fear of being overlooked. She allowed herself to relax completely into the situation and spent the next 35 minutes in the dressing room and bathroom, completing her transformation from boy-mode into the Queen Bitch, Miranda. She was already very well cleaned, inside and out from her preparations at home earlier. And those same preparations meant she was also entirely smooth and her skin had been expertly hand lotioned by her so that she felt expertly smooth and soft to the touch but without any oily sheen or strong scent.

Once she was naked and had applied her wig and make up, she sprayed a hint of her favourite perfume into the air and stepped into it, spinning slowly around until the spray had either dissipated or clung to her. Then she got dressed. She had chosen a deep purple, brushed satin, clinging dress that went just low enough to cover her beautiful surprise and stayed high enough to expose the maximum amount of her beautiful long and luscious legs. It had a deep and plunging neck line that opened in a "V" to about halfway between the breast line and the navel. But the "V" was very narrow and was connected at the top so the opened shape was a long ellipse rather than a plain "V" and therefore it did not expose a fuller décolletage. Rather it showed her skin tone and hinted at what may lay beneath. Beneath it she had her most comfortable black bra that had a wide and thin joining strip between the cups and so that was all that showed through the elliptical opening of the dress. The bra was doubly padded, adapted by her with extra padding, so that it remained very firm and still supple to the touch so that the illusion of breasts remained for all but the most rigorous explorer.

She had a long, bob-cut wig that was a rich brown brunette but shot through with ash-blond highlights. She'd had a hairdresser friend to play with it a little so that instead of remaining cut fairly plain and straight across the ends as most bobs would be, it now had the slightest randomly staggered cuts that gave it a rich natural flow and whenever it moved with the movement of her head or body, it allowed the strands to follow each other in their movements rather than all swinging together as a heavier clump.

She had left her legs bare rather than wear stockings and she had black patent leather, strappy sandals with a four inch heel. They raised her overall height to about 6' 2" or just above and she knew that when she towered over most men that wanted to submit, the height was for most the final straw in just melting before her air of authority.

She looked at herself in a full length mirror. She liked what she saw so much that she felt her cock harden and rise beneath her dress. She took advantage of the light in the room and the situation of the moment to get out her phone and set it up to take a few erotic selfies to use later on line. It took her about ten minutes to get what she wanted and then she slipped into a pair of flimsy, black, mesh panties. They were nicely inexpensive and always worked as a good way to show her cock to her visitors for the first time before that fuller, naked reveal and being cheap she never worried about ripping or tearing them as part of the play.

With her cock settled nicely inside and with the glasses of ice, her bottled water and a few accessories from her case, she returned to the front bedroom. As she pushed open the door, she said in a sweet, sing-along voice, "I hope you're hard and ready because I'm back!"

She was not surprised to see that although his cock had clearly grown erect in her absence, it was now beginning to slowly shrink back. She had spent some time getting herself ready and had not felt the need to hurry just so he could retain his erection. The foreskin had rolled back over the head so that only the very tip was exposed and although it was plump, it was not as rigid as she wanted. She placed all her accessories on the desk or table top of the unit that also housed the music player and TV and she took a crop from among them and leaning over the bed, she smacked very sharply onto his inner thigh, about an inch from his balls.

In her angry Miranda voice, she said, "Get hard, Bitch. You're not nearly as much use to me unless you're hard."

Like magic, the stimulus of pain, shock and sexual arousal worked immediately and she watched fascinated as his cock head slipped out from the covering skin and he grew to a longer, fuller and much harder complete erection. She couldn't help but notice the similarity between his cock and her own. The rigidity. The rich pattern of veins. The very dark skin tone. The head of his cock was darker than hers and peculiarly, as she'd seen many cocks very close in her time, his was the first where the head was almost the same dark shade as the shaft. Even with black men from Africa or South Asia it was more usual for the head to have a pink or purple hue or to be shaded that way among the darker tones. But this guy just had a very dark cock from base to tip. And fully erect his shape and angle seemed to match her own.

And she could tell at a glance that he was almost exactly the same size, both in length and girth. Measuring without cheating, along the top of the shaft, from where the cock left the pubis up to the hole, this was a cock of just a tiny bit above 7 inches. And an average girth circumference of about 6 inches. Even his balls seemed to match her own in shape and size as well as colour. She watched as they rolled slowly within the sac as his cock reached its maximum size and sprung up in tiny spasms away from his body before resting back again.

A little thrill ran through her at the thought of discovering what it would feel like to suck and fuck her own cock in a strange detached way. Many men had told her that hers was the perfect shape, the perfect size and the most beautiful to behold of any cock they'd known. And although she knew that many meant it as flattery to please her, she'd heard it from enough of those she trusted to know there was merit in their judgements. Now staring at the guy on the bed's cock, she saw the beauty in a new way and felt her own cock twitch at the thought and the pleasure in what she saw.