Peter Goes Gay Sub for Daddy Ch. 08

She was busy readjusting her dress to leave; she put a hand to her lips and blew me a casual kiss, as she turned to her entourage and strutted out. Daddy patted my sore bottom and put antibiotic ointment and bandaged the cigar burn.

The leftovers were almost humming with anticipation of what they would do with me. The door had not quite shut before I felt them all over me. Not long after, I felt a cock (I think it was Howard's) penetrate my hungry hole and start to make love to it. The gentle sensuousness was delicious after the roughness. My mystery lover noticed the weights still hanging from my empty sack and unclipped them. I was glad to be rid of them, but the release caused the pain to reignite.

Jack dangled his cock in front of me, making me beg for it and lightly slapping me with it occasionally. I was barely present mentally; my mind drifting between the present and what had just happened before. Ultimately, I drifted into semi-consciousness. Where I could just feel without having to think.

The third person, Carla or Howard had undone my nipple clamps and was playing softly with my puffy little titties and tweaking my aching nipples. This was my reward for learning my lesson, and I wanted to enjoy it. I let myself go off into sub-space, where I was just a receptacle for these new fuckers.

Soon Carla, who it turned out was the one fucking my ass, came around and joined Jack at my mouth while Howard took her place in my ass. My new wider mouth could accommodate both their heads at once; they alternated between that and one of them driving deep down my throat.

These guys just really wanted to squeeze the last ounce of life out of the party. The kept fucking me every possible combination for what seemed like hours. Anytime they got close to cumming, they would slow down. At some point, they untied me from the horse and all three fucked my ass. I was drifting in and out, and came so much I lost count. Eventually, they left me alone. I could barely move; I laid there in the big empty room half-awake until I found enough energy get myself into the shower, dressed and get car to take me home.

I fell sleep all the way home and the driver had to help me into my lobby and one of the doormen led me to my apartment, where I collapsed on my bed.

The next day, I didn't get up after noon. I was sore and achy all over especially my back and buttocks. The cigar burn was actually... not as bad as I thought it would be. I definitely could feel it back there, but it didn't hurt as much as the welts from the whip. My forehead was also painful; I could just make out the outline of the "TEXAS" buckle in red in the mirror.

The oddity that I could read it the right way in the mirror, but others would see it reversed made me grin a little, as I traced it with my fingers. I resolved not to leave the apartment until it had faded. I knew that Daddy would not expect me to work after the night before. I had a date with one of my favorite Johns, but Daddy canceled it. This was not just for my benefit; the john would not want to pay top dollar for a whore still marked up from her previous encounter. And this guy was not particularly into the BDSM scene. He was a "straight" fuck.

I was out of commission for a week. The cigar burn healed well, leaving a vibrant scar that looked like an "O." Its placement made it look like planned scarification. I had until then fairly clear skin, with no tattoos or piercings, except for my sack and nipples. Weeks later, when Mistress saw it, she decided to tattoo a "WH" on one side of the "O" and "RE" on the other.

As usual, I agreed readily to her pleasure. We went together to the tattoo shop. Something we rarely did these days: got out together. The receptionist at the tattoo parlor took us back into a treatment room, handed me a gown, and had me strip and lay on the table on my stomach. The tattoo artist came in and Mistress explained her idea while showing him the "O."

He was thin wiry guy whose eyes were in constant motion like a nervous bird. It was not reassuring for his occupation. He got very excited about the "O." He traced it lightly with his latex-gloved hand.

"You say... this was done with a cigar?"

"Yes, a fat cigar. Hahaha..." Mistress answered.

"Wow! It's beautiful! Such authenticity and contour. It'd be a shame to tattoo around it. Hmm. Hmm. Have you thought about branding her, instead?"

"Not really, but what do you suggest."

"Well, this is giving me an idea. She obviously doesn't mind pain, right?!"

"No, no, she loves pain. She can cum from pain; she came from this."

"Oh, wow, wow, uhmm. Yeah! What kind of cigar was it?" She had to call Troy, the Texan, to find out.

The cranelike tattoo guy, Steve, was just wild with excitement about whatever he was thinking. I had become used to being referred to in the feminine pronoun as well as being discussed in the third-person, as if I wasn't in the room. They were making plans about my body, which in a way did not concern me, since my body was not my own. We could go through a whole discussion of whether I would want what she wanted for me, but I'd ultimately accept anyway.

"...yes! Yes! Daarling, I'm at the place now... you'll bring 'em? No, no, I could send someone... oh, oh, huh, you wanna watch? Perve! Yes, yes, she'll love it! It made her cum last time."

Steve was noticeably eavesdropping through the whole conversation and even more excited than before. He and Mistress left the small room whispering to each other; I hardly catch their meaning, but there was definite trade for services. I laid there prone with my ass to the door in a flimsy hospital-style gown, waiting for my fate to be decided between the uber-animated tattooist and my suddenly artsy Mistress.

About twenty minutes later, they came to fetch me and led me, still in a gown, through the busy waiting area to a larger room with seating for about twenty. There was a platform at the center no bigger than a chair. Steve's assistant, a muscular young woman with a stern square face, strapped me to the platform on my stomach, just as Troy, the Cigarman, was led in.

He too seemed excited at the prospect of what was to happen to me, of which I was only vaguely aware. A small audience had gathered on the longish benches around the platform. The lights suddenly brightened in the room, and Mistress leaned down to explain, finally, in more detail what I had gleaned was happening.

"Oh, my dear! Great news, for you! Steve here, is going to make a work of art on your back matching the... uhm... 'authenticity' and 'graphic' of Troy's inspiration. And the best part, he's doing it for free as long as we film him doing it and you cum from it. Isn't that great, my weedle Petey whore? Yes?"

"Yes, Mistress!"

I didn't show enough enthusiasm for something she was so eager to give me, so she had Troy slap me across the face. He was more than willing to help out with this. I responded with more zeal for the project of getting an original Steve brand on my lower back, and the prospect of cumming from it.

Troy reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a box of six cigars of the same brand he had used and handed it to Steve, who unraveled a small bundle of carving tools. He set to work on a stool, right in front of me. In his squirrelly way, he carved and cut and dug the ends of four cigars into the shape of the "W," "H," "R," "E."

He explained his thought process as if to me, but for the benefit of the crowd, who listened intently.

"See, the "O" is perfect because it is like an accident, almost organic, but somehow precise. At first, I thought I could do it with branding iron, but that would leave the surface too smooth. It wouldn't match the properties of what's there; we want texture... the semi-jagged edges."

He continued addressing me, but he was really talking to the audience.

"So, I am cutting these really deep so that they can burn down and get really hot and still keep the letter shapes. And we will also incorporate the roundness the original into the new letters.

"Meanwhile, your mistress has given permission to film the procedure and to try to make you cum as we do it. So, you can save your mistress some money if you cum."

He had cut the "W" and "H" in the time it took to explain the process. There was an almost overhead camera and a guy with camcorder moving around and focusing on my face and then the carving. Troy approached me from behind. I heard the clacking of his cowboy boots stomping toward me, then the feeling of cold lube and fingers twirling in my hole. I instinctively pushed back to get more, and he chuckled derisively.

"She's just such a nasty fucking whore, Marsha. Can I fuck her? I never fucked a sissy tranny before, but this is making me so fuckin' hot."

"Honey, she would love you to fuck her. Cockwhore!?"

"Yes, Sir! I'd love you to fuck me, please, please!"

The small crowd was oohing and aahing, as Troy pulled down his pants and pushed easily into my hole in one quick sharp thrust. His cock was comparatively small in relation to what I was used to, but with no lube and his sharp thrust, it burned into me pleasantly. But I was happy he let it sit there for a while before he began to pull back out.

Steve, who was putting the finishing touches on the "E," waved Troy down to get him to take it slow for the purpose. I was tightly fastened to the platform, but if he fucked me violently, I would not be steady enough for the procedure. Troy moved at a glacial pace in my hole teasing me by pushing deep inside me and then held steady, while Steve used a ruler and Sharpie to line up and mark the places for the new cigar burns.

He made Troy pull out while he drew the lines to make sure they were straight and parallel. He practiced marking me with the unlit cigars to get the spacing just right. He began by giving the "H" to Troy, who lit it and suck on the end, as he reintroduced his cock to my hole hungry for him. He kept it deep inside me as Steve straddled my neck almost sitting on my head and took the cigar from Troy and aimed it carefully at the right place.

The smell of burning flesh was more present this time; and the pain deeper and more concentrated. I was fresh now; the first time I had suffered serious physical and emotional pain before being seared. I had started this day happily shopping for a tattoo with Mistress, now I could smell my flesh burning. I was whimpering quietly, as Steve pinch my head sharply with his legs to keep still before lifting the burning ember from my back.

Just then, Troy began to move his cock out and rammed it back into me. Steve moved back and dangled his long thin dick over my teary face. I reached for it like a pacifier and swallowed it whole without much fuss. I suckled on it calming myself from the pain, knowing there would be more. Troy was fucking me beautifully going out slowly and then ramming it in forcefully. I quickly forgot the pain and was trying to match their rhythms in my ass and throat.

Steven pulled away to get the next cigar, the "R," working from the middle out to keep the spacing right in case of adjustments. As he stepped away and was about to proceed, I caught my breath for a second and begged Troy to strike me with something to divert the pain.

He moaned with his cock deep inside me, and I could tell my request had caused him excitement. He looked around and Mistress was there with a hard leather paddle. He struck me down low on my ass and on my thighs, well below the singed skin. I needed something to even out the pain to come. Once again Troy filled my ass and Steve straddled my head as Troy lit the next cigar, and then Steven pressed in the "R."

This time the pain was more subdued, and I began to make peace with it. I had the advantage that Troy was a wonderful lover who seemed to have complete cock control and moved seamlessly from ravaging to tender massage. As soon as Steve lifted the burning cigar, Troy went back to earnest fucking, helping me forget the pain by bashing into my hole. And then Steve went into my mouth. I was sure I'd be able to cum from this on command. I just relaxed and let the pain come; the pleasure of their cocks more than making up for it.

Again, Troy slapped me with paddle this time he hit right between my legs at my clitty, which sent shockwaves all over my body the pain from the burning disappeared altogether. It was time for the "W," and we did our routine. I barely noticed the burning pain and Troy brought his meaty cock somehow even deeper than before. I could have easily cum from what they were doing, but held back, wanting to make them both cum from my own orgasm. I was confident because of how good Troy was fucking me.

When it was time for the last letter, Troy slapped at my inner thighs with the paddle then buried his cock inside me as Steven got ready. I wiggled my ass, I wanted Troy moving in my ass as the burning started, so I could bring myself to cum just then. Troy took the hint and slowly eased himself in and out, Steven hit his mark, and the rushing pain pushed me over the top.

My legs began to shake and my ass to twitch and Troy increased his speed as Steve lifted the still burning "E" cigar from my back. I was coming hard and instantly drew Troy in, Steve attacked my mouth at lightning speed grabbing the back of my head with one hand, while holding the burning cigar down with the other. He came down my throat soon after, and I swallowed happily.

I had tuned it out before, but as we finished up, I heard for the first time, the buzz of the crowd. Some were moaning with us, or just oohing and aahing at my torment. I listened closely for my Mistress's voice, and pick her out among the moaners. After we cleaned up, Steve reached for his tattoo machine and in tiny print signed his work SJ (Steven Joules). He dressed the wounds with antiseptic ointment and bandage pads.

Mistress was so delighted with me afterward, she could wipe the big grin off her face. She took me shopping for a whole new girly wardrobe. We had a great time, though it was a bit tough when I occasionally felt the pain of my new skin art. I'd grimace and pat my sore back, and she would smile, cruelly satisfied. But then caressed my face, and I'd puff up with pride at having endured such torture for my Mistress.

My ordeal had put her in the best mood, and I felt this was my best chance to convince her to let me finish my transition. As we ate a late lunch, after our shopping spree, I asked Mistress if she would allow me to get the last surgeries.

"Oh!? ...y'sure that's what you want, my little sissy tranny?"

"Yes, Mistress!"

"Okay, Petey we'll call the clinic on Monday, yes?"

"Oooh, thank you, thank you Mistress! I am so happy!" I jumped up and kissed her on the face and neck repeatedly, until she nudged me back to my seat.

In the next two months, I went through the final surgeries and was soon totally passable as woman. I loved the feeling. My whole world seemed to change overnight. Everything was the same, but all had changed. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a hot woman looking back at me. I could see men checking me out on the street and in bars.

Having a vagina is amazing, and I felt so happy to be able to give myself in this new way. I wanted Daddy to be the one to take this last vestige of virginity, but he decided to auction it off on their website. Dr. Earl Marks, an orthodontist from Long Island won the auction and had the honor of popping my vaginal cherry. He had a just-above-average penis, and I thought this might have been a better option than having Noas enormous monster break me in. The first time, he was too excited to last very long in there. But since he had paid so much to I let him fuck me again and he was able to take his time and make me cum vaginally for the first time.

Weirdly, I came more like a boy from the clitoral stimulation, which felt a lot like rubbing my old teeny penis. My man-made vagina was purposely deep so I could accommodate the likes of Ahn and Daddy. But I still preferred to be assfucked, physically it was closer to my prostate, and mentally it still felt way nastier there, which I always prefer. My clientele shifted, once I was passable as a woman. That was a bit of disappointment, more of my dates were just straight (now literally) sex than they used to be, but there were other ways I still got what I needed.

Some months later, Marsha seemed to lose interest in me. Not long after my last surgery, she got pregnant by George and they decided to have it. She was going to be an older mom, and that became most of her existence. Though, I think it was also to do with fact having a "girl" sex-slave was less exciting for her than when I was in-between. In any case, she had no time for me.

So, I became Ahn and Noah's; I couldn't be happier with this arrangement. I have the best of all possible worlds. I have the benefit Ahn's strict discipline and the loving and tender caring of my Daddy, while I get to satisfy my nearly insatiable sexual appetite, with their blessing. Marsha legally gifted me the apartment, finally, with no strings, though I had to give back the credit card. It's okay I have no shortage of money and little need for it.

All in all, my new life has turned out great!