The Prince and the Fairy Pt. 01

This is a story of a young Transvestite, set in the 1980's with the backdrop of the near civil war ongoing in Northern Ireland. I try and tell the story over a number of chapters.

It is a work of complete fiction.

Although it is a piece of erotic fiction, there are scenes involving torture, i would like to advise you that this is not part of the Eroticism.

Chapter 1 - Interrogation

I awoke in utter agony, I wasn't sure if it was the pain that brought me out of the groggy darkness or the burly uniformed man looming over me.

"Wakey-wakey you fruity cunt!" He screamed into one of my cauliflower ears in his thick cockney accent. I was tied to a chair, wearing only the tattered remains of my expensive black silk Basque and French knickers and there were more ladders in my suspenders than material. The stench of excrement and blood stung my nostrils as I sucked in the air desperately hoping that this misunderstanding would resolve itself sooner rather than later.

I was a total mess, my left eye was swollen over, my nose had almost imploded it had been repeatedly punched, and was now an open weeping wound on the middle of my face. My tongue poked at the gaps in my gums where once four teeth once had been. I wasn't sure how many of my fingers, or toes were broken. My testicles well my scrotum was stapled repeatedly to the wooden chair I found myself tied too.

"You've two fucking options, my little queer princess. Neither of them will let you walk out of that fucking door. You tell me now who else is in your Fenian cell and where we can fucking find them. Or you tell the fucking spook who is about to walk through that fucking door. You have thirty fucking seconds!" To reinforce the point he punched me in the ribs.

"Fuck sake, if you know what's fucking good for you!" He stomped his big booted foot onto my bruised and broken toes. Once again, I screamed in agony.

The door opened, and a man and a woman entered the room. The woman spoke, "Sargent, we will take it from here." He looked at them and his head bowed. If I didn't know any better, I would have said he was genuinely concerned for my future well-being.

"What have I done?" I thought.

"You've fucked up now you dirty Fenian faggot." He said marching out the door.

"I am not a spy, I'm not in the RA, I haven't tried to hurt anyone. Please you've gotta believe me." I begged between deep uneven breaths; I had a fair idea that I was now begging for my life.

The woman spoke again in a very soft scouse accent. "Do you know who we are?"

I whimpered and shook my head.

"We are the people, who get called when fuckers like you try and kill our royal family. Our job is to keep you alive long enough, so that you tell us what we need to know. It is really important that you understand that we are the last people you will ever speak too."

Now the man spoke, "When your friends in the IRA come up against someone they don't like from their own community, they kidnap them and put them in a deep hole.

Then the bastards blame us for it. I have to admit it but it's a bloody great idea..." He snorted his begrudged appreciation of the Irish Republican Army's ingenuity.

But he was not finished, "We have already dug your hole. In three hours if you have not told us who your terrorist friends are you will be in that hole. You will be awake as we start to fill your grave. You will die in it, slowly choking to death on the soil. Tell us what we want to know, and you will spend the rest of your life in Jail. It isn't a nice prospect for a Fenian faggot like you. But you will be alive."

I started begging and whimpering again the scouse lady stood behind me, she ripped off my bra wrapped it around my neck as she chocked me she leaned closer to my ears and said, "You see we are pretty good at getting the information we need. We are not like the brutes at SO14 we torture little fruits like you every day..." She leaned even closer and whispered, "I actually get off on it.." She snorted a laugh before saying aloud again, "I am going to love watching you squirm and beg as we shovel the dirt onto you."

"Right now, your sister Dervla has been picked up from her flat in West Belfast, your da is still in the h-blocks so we already have him. And your ma is next. You can explain to them why they're in the hole with ye."

I tried to protest their innocence, but I was blacking out from being choked with my bra.

I honestly blame Patrick for my current predicament, even though I haven't seen his big blue eyes in a couple of years. He lived three doors down from us on the outskirts of Belfast. It was 1981 one of the bloodiest years of the civil war being fought in the North of Ireland. I was an eighteen year old catholic boy struggling with my homosexuality not that I had a name for it, I just liked to wank myself off while thinking of other boys. Patrick was bigger and stronger than me, and I was in love with him for it.

Six or seven months ago we were play wrestling in his back yard, when he took the game to a new level. Pinning me to the ground, I was completely under his control and he pulled out his cock and shoved it into my face. He jerked off with me licking the tender fleshy shaft and grunted loudly as he shot a big thick load over my face.

From then on, we didn't pretend to wrestle we went straight up to our rooms and played mummies and daddy's. I would dress up in a dress and shoes, sometimes if I had a chance I would snag a pair of knickers or tights and wear these as well.

It was pretty innocent we except for the sucking and wanking. We stayed away from each other's assholes. I guess that deep down we were both good catholic boys and our mammies warned us that the little baby Jesus would be cross if we ever had sex before marriage.

But Patrick was turning nineteen and I wanted to make it special for him. For a few days I gathered up the things I needed for his present. I knew he loved to jerk off thinking about the girls at his sister's school. So, I borrowed one of her school uniforms from the washing line, along with a pair of her tights.

Our neighbour was a single woman in her thirties, my mummy called her a tart, as she wasn't married, and wore short skirts and massive boots. The day before Patrick's party she washed and hung out on her washing line a lacy white bra and panty set. Patrick would love this, so I borrowed it.

Patrick wasn't home from school, but I called over with a white plastic carrier bag full of my birthday present. His mum let me in and I made my way up to his room to prepare.

I put my underwear on first, the panties felt so nice. I had only ever felt cotton panties before, so the satin and lace felt amazing against my skin, I carefully rolled the tights up my slender legs and stepped into the black chunky heeled school shoes I had liberated from my sister's cupboard.

I put on the white blouse shirt, I loved the look of the lacy cups of the bra through the blouse it looked so feminine. I stepped into the green tartan knee length skirt and closed the button around my waist tucking the shirt in.

I had borrowed some lipstick from mummy's room, looking in the mirror I put the red colour onto my lips. I was just putting the finishing touches to my lipstick when the door opened and the boy of my dreams entered. His work uniform was a mess as always.

"Happy birthday!" I pouted as best I could. Without saying a word he leapt across the room and kissed me. His hands tirelessly explored my body, his crotch ground against mine, his tongue danced in my mouth.

Our sessions usually involved me dressing as he requested. Him pulling out his cock, me either sucking or wanking it. Sometimes he allowed me to wank myself off at the same time. This wasn't a reciprocal relationship. He rarely if ever touched me, and we had never kissed.

His hand made its way to the hem of my skirt and he pulled it up, allowing him to rub me through the panties and tights. I moaned softly into his mouth, as he gently massaged my cock with the palm of his big hands. I am not built for stamina, and I only lasted a few lovely seconds,

"Oh my God Patrick." I softly moaned, as my cock exploded my cum into those pretty white panty's.

Such was the intensity of my orgasm that my knees buckled, and I fell to the floor.

Once I had got my wits about me, I opened Patricks fly and released his cock. As I sucked on his dick he said, "God it's so hot watching your lipstick on my cock."

I have been sucking Patricks cock for a while now, and I know what he likes. He loves it when I deep throat him, but what makes him cum, is when I wrap my lips around his tip, and wank off his shaft, while playing with his balls. This was his birthday present and I was giving him what he wanted. So I mixed between deep throating and brining him off in my mouth. I sensed his climax was approaching and I was preparing to shove his cock deep into my throat, when he moaned, "Stop."

Panicked I asked, "What's wrong?"

"I want to make love to you!" Did he say make love? My heart soared. Patrick was in love with me. This is all I had ever dreamed off. He stripped off his bedraggled uniform in seconds. I got onto all fours on the floor and pulled my tights and knickers down to my knees.

He got behind me and jammed his dick towards my ass. But I was locked up tight.

"Use your fingers and loads of spit first." I urged him. He covered his fingers in saliva and rubbed them over my little brown hole. I couldn't help but clench up as his index finger pushed passed the resistance of my opening. But soon with a lot more spit he was knuckle deep inside me. More fingers followed, and he loosened me up.

"I think I'm ready!" I moaned, and he pulled his fingers out of my ass, he spat on his dick and aimed it at me. With a little push his helmet entered me. I gasped as the short sharp sting shot through my body. My pain didn't deter my lover and he pushed deeper and deeper.

I was on all fours, wearing Patrick's sister's school uniform complete with tights and a bra. Patrick was behind me balls deep in my ass fucking my sweet brains out.

"I'm going to cum!" Patrick yelled and I felt him burry his cock deep into me. At that exact moment, his dad burst into his room.

"You fucking dirty fuckers!" He yelled punching Patrick on the side of the head, following it up with a kick into my ribs.

I was dragged along the street to my mum's house. I was still wearing the uniform; my neighbours' white knickers and my boyfriend's sisters' tights were around my ankles. I had cum leaking out of my asshole and tears running down my face.

The shame was too much for my family, so I was packed off to live with my mum's sister in London.