Spencer's Transformation

"Oh, you look so dominant and masculine like that, sweetie. Such a big, powerful commanding man." Deanna's voice dripped with sarcasm, but she was smiling a sweet smile. My wife had always had a pixieish, impish aspect to her, and she had one of those knowing smirks that could treble it. Her face was dominated by a wide, generous mouth that not even her large soft brown eyes or high cheekbones could compete with. That she was a short woman who was too muscular to call petite was a factor that added an edge to her comment as well. Deanna could easily beat me arm wrestling. She was a pocket endomorph whose build was stripped down to bone and muscle. She'd studied martial arts and gymnastics as a child, before ending up in art school studying sculpture. The fact that she'd wound up playing the drums as an adult seemed almost inevitable, even if she hadn't had the wood and metalworking skills from her art school education to more or less build a drum kit from scratch. She had designed and cast some exotic fiberglass toms, but they were a pain to use live so they normally lived in a corner of our living room, and rarely even made it to the rehearsal room. The fact that they were never used didn't mean that Deanna hadn't known how make wooden molds to cast the fiberglass shells, fit the retainers for the heads and construct a frame to hold them both from pipe steel. It was a shame they were nearly half the size of the double bass drum Ludwig kit she used all by themselves, though. They hadn't seen any real use since the lead singer and uber prim-donna of a Nu Metal band we'd been in had decided they'd look better in a video than a proper drum kit. The guy had probably been right, but he was such an asshat that had put Deanna off using them.

"So manly and powerful and strong. Such a big masculine alpha male. So macho. You're such a big masculine man, I'm melting. Looking at a dominant man like you makes me so wet it hurts, sweetie."

My wrists and ankles were buckled into padded leather cuffs, fastened to the corners of the bed. There were smaller cuffs on the other ends of the chains, that were fastened to the tubular steel frame of the headboard and footboard. There was a little play in the chains, but not much. The rubber sheet over the top of the bed felt just as good as the bondage. It was the other touch we'd just added that seemed to be amusing Deanna.

"Nice and smooth," she said, running her fingers down my calf. We'd shaved each other in the shower all over first. It had taken a whole pack of disposable razors to get rid of all of all of the hair on my legs, arms, armpits, chest, abdomen, genitals and butt crack. I had to admit it felt good, and Deanna definitely seemed to like it a lot. "You look much better without all that ugly hair. Does it feel nice to be smooth and sexy?"

"Yes, Deanna," I said. "It does." It was something she'd been after me doing for a long time. I just hoped that we'd be playing for longer than shaving me had taken. We normally applied the goth club rule, that you stayed for at least twice as long as you spent getting ready and dressing up, to sex play. I was hoping for a long session.

"Don't these feel better without hair?" Deanna tweaked my nipples gently with her fingers, then bent down and bit the right one, nipping hard with her teeth. "Just think, we can use the clamps and they won't slide off now." She bit my left nipple, a bit harder than the right.

"This looks much better as well," Deanna said, stroking my cock. "It looks a bigger with all that hair gone. I wonder if it tastes better as well?"

Deanna turned. Her ass was practically in my face as she licked and then sucked my cock. It responded quickly, stiffening in her mouth. Deanna stopped sucking, giggled and kissed it. "Yummy," she said. "I don't think I'll suck it again unless you keep it nice and smooth like this." That wasn't unreasonable. I didn't go down on her unless she was shaved. "It looks so much better like this that I'm not sure I even want it in me if it isn't shaved. It looks better, doesn't it? And it feels better."

"Yes, Deanna," I said. Agreeing with whoever was on top was part of the ritual we'd built up over the time we'd been together. Normally that was whoever wasn't in bondage but we had spent one session with Deanna strapped down and ordering me about, having me lick her feet and suck her toes, perform cunnilingus and finally rim her and then give her a full tongue bath while she was in bondage. We'd both enjoyed that a lot.

"This really is a good look for you, sweetie," Deanna said. "Less masculine, but I like that and you've always been a pretty boy so I think going girly will suit you. Now those legs are shaved we are going to get them into stockings, aren't we? It would be a waste not to. I've always thought that you were maybe protesting a bit too much about not wanting to try cross dressing. You're the only male goth musician on the west coast who wasn't in a production of the Rocky Horror Show in your teens, for heaven's sake. Yes, goth boys always look rubbish in fishnets and a rubber miniskirt, but just think how good you'd look onstage in a leotard and nylons."

I wasn't sure how to answer that. Deanna smiled and kissed me. She picked up her makeup bag off the dresser. "Just one last touch before we go any further, sweetie," she said. "I'm going to give you a mani pedi before we go start playing." I knew better than to object and held still as she took out a bottle of a dark red varnish and painted my nails. "There," Deanna said. "I could do your face as well, but I'm not sharing eyeliner. Maybe we'll get you your own makeup bag if you decide you like being pretty."

Deanna pulled out the toy box from under the bed. "I think you've earned that foot job you've been nagging me about, sweetie," she said. "After all, you deserve a reward for getting rid of all that ugly hair and an incentive to keep your body nice and smooth and sexy like it is now."

"Thank you," I said. Deanna had beautiful feet. Maybe it was something to do with her being a drummer. Working the pedals on her drum kit must keep her tendons in shape. She claimed to have lost a shoe size since she started playing the drums.

"There are going to be conditions though," she said. She held up a pair of clover nipple clamps, smirked and clipped them in place. I gasped as the delicious pinching started. "First of all, and I know you'll enjoy this, afterwards I want you to lick my feet clean. Get all of the lube and your nasty cum off them. That's a reward not a condition, really isn't it?"

"Yes, Deanna," I said.

"This is the one that you might find a bit more worrying. You stay shaved for the rest of the month. I don't want to see any trace of body hair until we're on that tour supporting Cathexis. Maybe not even then, if you take to being smooth like I think you will. Agreed?"

"Yes, Deanna," I said.

"I think you can call me 'Mistress' for the rest of the evening, and maybe tomorrow as well. You'd like that, wouldn't you Spencer? We both know that you much prefer submitting to me than topping me, don't we?"

"Yes, Mistress," I said. As always, calling my wife and lover that sent a delicious thrill down my spine. I was always very careful not to use the M word without invitation. Deanna objected to that. Topping from the bottom made the term meaningless, was her line. I did have to agree that calling her that did a lot more for me than her calling me Master or My Lord did, though.

"So tell me what you've agreed to, bitch," Deanna said, smiling. She put a bottle of lubricant jelly on the rubber sheets between my spread legs.

"Yes, Mistress," I said. "Your obedient bitch has agreed to clean your beautiful feet with its filthy mouth after you've given it the treat its spent months begging for. It has agreed that it isn't allowed to have any body hair for the next twenty two days."

"And that it'll be punished if it does let its grooming hygiene slacken."

"Yes, Mistress. Please punish me if I fail to keep myself shaved and smooth until the end of the month."

"Of course, if that's what you want. One last condition. I want you to beg me to dress you for the band meeting on Monday. I think it's only fair that how sexy you look without all that ugly body hair be shared, don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress," I said. The rest of the band were a gay man, a lesbian top and a bisexual slut. We'd all seen more of each other than was seemly in dressing rooms in any case, so It wasn't that big a deal how I was dressed or undressed for them. The notion of being exposed still raised a bit of a frisson, though.

"I said beg."

"Mistress, please dress me as you see fit for the band meeting on Monday. I want you to tell me how to dress and how to present myself. I want to be displayed to the band as your slut and your submissive."

"Very well. Here's a sweetener, as you've pleased me. I'm going to let you stay in the submissive role for the whole time until the tour, so long as you don't require punishing."

"Thank you, Mistress."

Deanna giggled, sat on the bed's footboard, and began to rub her feet with the scented lubricant jelly. "I thought you'd like that," she said. "Shall I tell you why I think you've never asked to take things deeper? Why we're still just trading sessions as the sub after three years together?"

"Please, Mistress," I said. Deanna teased my cock with the toes of one greased foot. Her toenails were painted a rich glossy purple.

"I think you're ashamed of your desires. I think you'd love to be my slave full time, and that you wouldn't have any problem going around cross dressed full time or out in public wearing just a slave collar and a chastity device if it wasn't for the fact that you think you have a certain image and role that's at odds with that."

I took a breath and opened my mouth. "Hush, bitch," Deanna said, putting her fingers on my lips. "Mistress is talking. I know that you've noticed that I do enjoy playing the submissive sometimes as well, and that you want to please me, even if playing the top doesn't do anything for you beyond being able to order me to suck you off. I can appreciate that. I do wonder though whether you're not always trying to establish a real dominant identity instead of pretending."

Deanna began to masturbate me with her feet, rubbing the shaft between her soles. "Just look at this. Look how hard you are. Is it because you're spreadeagled on a bed helpless, because I'm questioning your masculinity, or because I'm masturbating you with my feet? Don't answer. I know. It's all three. I think that foot fetish is a sign that you're really submissive at heart, and any attempts to be Dominant and a masculine, commanding alpha male are doomed. It just isn't you, sweetie. I like that. I wouldn't be with you if I didn't like that. I just wish you were strong enough, and brave enough to admit it."

My penis quivered and she released it. "Oh no, not just yet, sweetie." I felt it pulse, struggling to match the stimulation that had just cut off. "Some slaves are so well trained that they can come on demand, you know that? Think how it would feel to be able to come if I just looked you in the eyes and snapped my fingers. Don't you think giving up that sort of control would be wonderful? I think part of the reason you're so scared of embracing your submissive nature fully is because of how much the idea excites you, not that it frightens you. Just think how it would feel if you could come from just sucking my toes."

Deanna put her feet back on my cock and started manipulating it again. "I want you to admit what you are and what you want, Spencer. I love you, and I'm a little hurt that you haven't dared to admit it, to me or yourself, that it's what you want. I'm willing to take you there. In fact, I want to take you there and I'll love taking you there. Now, what do you want to say?"

I took a deep breath. "I want to be your slave, Mistress," I said. Deanna grinned.

"There," she said. "See how easy that was? Why do you want to be my slave?"

"Because I'm a submissive bitch, not a real man at all."

"Good boy. I'm proud of you, Spencer. Does it feel good to have finally got that out?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Do you wish you'd had the courage to say it years ago?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Do you resent me for not forcing you to admit it?"

"No, Mistress. A slave who is too proud to beg does not deserve a Mistress."

"Remember that. And remember that I find the fact that you've finally managed to admit what you are far more impressive than any of your pathetic and unconvincing attempts to pass yourself off as a real man. You're a submissive girly slut. You're my submissive girly slut. Come for me, slut."

I did, hard. Then Mistress Deanna unfastened me from the bed and I licked her feet clean. By the time I was finished, I was hard again, and she rode me on the floor, reverse cowgirl style, for what felt like hours. I didn't come again, even when she reached behind her and grabbed the chain on the nipple clamps then yanked them off me. They always hurt more coming off and if I hadn't been so turned on I'd have done more than whimper at that. Finally Deanna came herself, noisily. After she'd finished, she got off me and sat on the edge of the bed, spreading her legs.

"Eat me, slave," she said. I started to get up. "No, crawl over here on all fours and kiss my feet and beg to go down on me."

"Yes, Mistress." I went down on all fours, crawled over and kissed her feet. My teased penis, which I was sure I could have coaxed another ejaculation from in a different position, twitched and throbbed as I kissed her feet, moving my mouth across each of her toes in turn, and kissing each toe-tip open mouthed. "May I lick you beautiful delicious pussy, Mistress?"

"You may, slave," Deanna said. I started to lick, circling her clitoris with my tongue. "That's it, nice and slow. Show me that you're worthy to serve me as a slave by giving me the best orgasm I've ever had from you.

No pressure, then. I resisted the urge to speed up until I felt her squirt. She slapped my face when I didn't stop using my tongue on her. "Feet," she gasped. "You can start again in a minute, if you're so keen."

I worshiped Deanna's feet. My cock was so hard that I could have beat off in thirty seconds, if I'd dared to touch it. I didn't, and concentrated on licking between her toes. I wondered whether coming down from an orgasm would make any difference to the way that felt.

"Beg," Deanna said after her breathing calmed down again.

"Please may I lick your pussy again, Mistress?"

"Why do you want to lick my pussy, slut?"

"Because I love, worship and obey you, Mistress. Because I want to serve you with total submission as your slave. Because bringing you pleasure brings me satisfaction and joy."

"Very well, then, slave. You may worship me."

I gave her feet a last kiss each and began licking at her pussy again. "Just remember," Deanna said, "that slavery is not a game or simple play. You will serve me with total obedience for the rest of the month, and if we make the arrangement permanent, indefinitely. You won't be allowed to refuse anything. This is something else that scares you about full time slavery isn't it slut? That you'll end up like Arabella's disgusting freak Helga."

I hadn't been thinking about Helga, but now she was mentioned, I did feel my arousal start to fade. Helga was Arabella's live in slave. They made a big thing about it being a nonconsensual relationship. She was an electrical engineer who'd been added to the road crew over a knack for maintaining instruments and amplifiers. She had a squeaky high pitched voice and some sort of British accent I couldn't place that didn't sound anything like BBC English or old footage of the Beatles. She also had a shaved head and no teeth. As she was probably younger than our lead singer, the idea that Arabella had either had her teeth removed as a punishment for some infraction or other or pulled them out herself had crossed my mind. More likely she'd come into Arabella's hands without them, but as a long time slave who'd been living in that role for years, that didn't mean that her teeth hadn't been removed by a past owner rather than an accident or poor oral hygiene, even if she was British. Arabella at least allowed her slave dentures, and had had a set that looked like horse's teeth made up for when they indulged in pony-play.

Somehow I managed to keep gently and slowly teasing Deanna's clitty with my tongue. The notion of ending up like Helga was a bit of mood killer, but it didn't seem to have bothered Deanna. I felt a hand in my hair.

"Don't worry, I won't be shaving this off. I like pretty boys, remember? You will have to learn unthinking obedience, though. And as your Mistress and owner, I'll be a lot crueler than I ever was as your wife. I'll do terrible, awful things to you that a loving wife couldn't bear to do to a husband that she loves and respects, but are easily done to a slave that's barely even human. Now that you've admitted that's what you want and what you need you're ready to accept anything I want to do to you, aren't you? Not just accept it, but kiss my feet and beg me for it, and then thank me afterwards. You want me to be cruel to you, don't you?"

I flicked the tip of my tongue across her clitoris spelling out letters. A simple two word sentence I was going to become very familiar with as events unfolded: "Yes, Mistress." I heard Deanna laugh.

"Good slut," she said. "Good slave. Does the thought of being turned into a freak like Helga frighten you, or does the idea excite you? Maybe it does both. Don't answer that question, but think about it. Think about how I feel about doing that to you, or what else I might do. It looks like thinking about Helga has frightened your mighty sword, so it isn't a turn on."

"The thing is," Deanna continued, "whether it excites or terrifies you shouldn't matter. If I want to do something to you, then I will. No objections, no quibbles, no nothing. If you want to be a slave, then you will have to give up all free will. Some things I'll want to do to you, you'll love. Some will frighten and appall you, but you'll learn to enjoy them, and wish you had the nerve to try them without being ordered into them. And some you will hate. And you'll hate me for inflicting them on you. It doesn't matter, you will do all three. If you want to be a slave, you don't get to pick and choose. You will accept every vile, painful, degrading or humiliating thing I do to you, won't you?"

I wrote those eleven letters on her clitoris with my tongue again.

"I think part of the reason you want this is because you want to be defiled and degraded. And I will defile and degrade you, don't worry. I'm going to enjoy doing that. All this antsiness and holding back needs to stop. I have enough faith in you to think that you can take anything I do to you, and learn to enjoy a lot of it. Stop licking."

I stopped. I was, if I was honest, a little grateful for the break.

"The next three weeks are going to be your trial period. I'm going to make them very rough on you, just to see if you can handle being a slave. I'm going to be as hard as I can on you, and then if you manage to stick it out, it's going to get even worse afterwards. I am going to ask Bella about the nonconsensual thing. If you want to be my slave, it's going to be on my terms, not yours. Can you accept that? Complete obedience to my every passing whim, no safe words and no way of backing out?"

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"Good. Now get on the bed. We're going to 69, and it will probably be the last time you ever get to come in my mouth, so enjoy it."

***

We went out shopping the next day. I had enjoyed coming in Deanna's mouth, and when I woke up with an erection, she'd smiled and masturbated it to a quick orgasm, then held out her hand to me to lick the semen up. "That's a thing from now on," she said. "Whenever you come, you eat it. You may not be coming as often you'd like from now on, but that'll just make it more intense."