The Prince and the Fairy Pt. 02

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 2 - It's ok to be Gay

I thought that it was over.

The blackness was all I knew now.

My eyes bugled out of their sockets. As I struggled to breath.

My throat ached.

My Lungs burned an acrid dry burn.

But she released the grip on the bra she was using to choke me. Air, sweet glorious air rushed back into my chest. Instead of being grateful, I delved into a self-pitying sorrow.

Allowing me to live was not an act of kindness. Quite the opposite in fact it was an act of utter brutality. For now, I would be subject to more of their torture.

I wept. I sobbed. I yearned for death! Surely only the grim reapers cold embrace could offer me any form of comfort now.

This was the second time in my sixteen years that I had prayed for death.

The first time wasn't that long ago, as I sat sobbing in the attic of my Aunts house in London. A month before I had disgraced my entire family. I got caught dressed as a school girl getting fucked in the ass by my neighbour Patrick. Oh, Patrick how I miss your warm embrace.

The 1980's in war torn Belfast was no place for a little faggot like me. So, my mother sent me to stay with her sister Theresa. She was amazing, for she too was forced to live in exile after getting pregnant, out of wedlock, at the tender age of eighteen.

She lived with her daughter Orla who was now nineteen. Theresa was ever so helpful, ever so supportive. I am sure that if it wasn't for her I would have opened my wrists.

Of course, Theresa and Orla knew what had happened. They knew that I was caught having gay sex while dressed in a school uniform and girls' underwear that I had stolen from the neighbours washing line. I am not sure what was worse, the stealing or the gayness? London was a little more progressive than Belfast. It was still the eighties though and homosexuality was still a bad word.

I got a job working in little clothes shop not far from the house. Just stacking selves, and opening boxes. It paid enough to give some to Theresa, and for me to have a life.

Orla was a bit of a party girl, she was out every night. Years earlier Orla and I got quite close on one of her family trips back to Belfast. So, it was nice to have her around.

Eventually she convinced me to join her at a party her friend was having. She was sure it would help to cheer me up.

The party itself was pretty boring, but I met a guy call Luke. He was short, middle aged, overweight, prematurely bald and most likely a drug addict. What more could a young gay boy like me want?

What drew me to Luke was the fact that he was openly gay. He minced around the party like a peacock on heat. I wasn't in anyway attracted to him, but I couldn't take my eyes off him.

The only other gay person I had ever met was Patrick. So, I was completely infatuated by Luke. I think that he liked the thought of a eighteen-year-old good-looking blonde boy being devoted to him.

That night we went back to his house and had pretty lousy sex. He was really not attractive, or clean. His dick stank of piss, he was incredibly hairy. So, I struggled to perform. He was generally completely submissive, so he had no interest in fucking me. We ended up in his bed jerking each other off.

But Luke introduced me to what he described as the scene. He took me to clubs were guys could be with other guys openly. As horny as this made me, what fascinated me most of all were the trannys. I had never considered myself in anyway trans. I dressed before because Patrick demanded it. But working in a woman's clothes store had afforded me the opportunity to repeat my dressing especially during the lonely night shifts. My staff discount meant that I was building up a collection of girl's clothes for myself.

I would go to Luke's house and dress. I quickly realised the power of my body had over him. He would beg me to allow him to suck me off. I fondly remember the boys in school complaining that girls wouldn't want to give them blow jobs, and here I was fending a cock craved loon off my dick.

Luke allowed me to store my new wardrobe in his house.

It seems that despite his appearance, and lack of basic personnel hygiene, that Luke was quite a big deal. He was invited to a gala ball in celebration of the lunch of a major motion picture. I was to be his date.

I arrived at Luke's at about four o clock. Luke had spent quite a lot of money and bought me an exquisite black ball gown, a pair of real fancy strappy bejewelled three-inch heels and a matching clutch bag.

I idolised George Michael, so I had the same hair style, well my hair was more natural blonde than his. It's was a style that looked just as nice on a girl as I found out. I showered and shaved my legs, I was still young and fair enough that I didn't need to shave my face. Once I was dried I began the transformation.

I laid the foundation, blushed, eye lined and mascara'd by face. Painted my nails the in Vogue colour of red, of course my toe nails matched. Then I rolled up my slender legs the expensive stockings that I bought from Marks and Spenser's, Luke helped as I struggled to attach them to new lacy garter belt. He commented that it was weird that I put the stockings and suspenders on before the knickers. Honestly, I had forgotten but it was getting late.

I padded the black lacy bra with a spare pair of tights, and then stepped into the beautiful dress. Before now the most expensive item of clothing I had ever seen was the wedding dress my cousin wore, and that was second hand. Luke had spent several hundred pounds on the dress that he was now zipping up my back.

While I am a fairly skinny guy as the dress closed it pulled everything tighter. I felt myself lifted up slightly, drawing me into a more feminine posture. Now this was amplified as I stepped into the black three-inch strappy high heels. My butt stuck out, and my back instinctively arched.

Luke looked genuinely impressed by my appearance. "My Mother would be delighted at me having such a radiant being on my arm tonight." He said. Before adding, "If only you would fuck me in the arse, we would be the perfect couple." We both chuckled. I knew he was serious, I think he knew that I was just being nice.

As we waited for the car, Luke presented me with one last gift. It was a long slender box with a red ribbon bow on top, I gasped as I opened it. For inside was the most gorgeous pearl necklace, and matching earrings. He helped me put them on. As he did I thought to myself, maybe just maybe I could allow myself to be with this man who seemed to care for me.

We stepped out of the taxi and walked along a carpeted path to a hotel in the centre of London. There were a few photographers taking pictures of the great and the good.

But we were neither, so they ignored us.

As we entered the hotel I was blown away with the opulence not just of the venue, but of the other party goers. They were as I was to find out the elite of London society. I was a scrawny transvestite from west Belfast, where getting a bus home from town was seen as flashy. Here I was in a dress that cost more than my mummy made in a year, hob nobbing with junior royals, pop stars and politicians.

It did cross my mind as I was introduced to the countless countesses that the Irish Republican Army would literally kill to get into this room. Thankfully I had left that all behind me in Belfast.

Women get a rough ride when it comes to these events. They spend days and fortunes getting ready for the big night. Men shower (Luke didn't even bother doing that) and put on an old tux. Everyone raves about how the men scrub up well.

At least the men get to enjoy the sight of women looking their best. We ladies get to watch a room full of men all dressed the same complain about having to wear a bow tie, while our corsets constrict, our stockings droop, our makeup needs constant attention and our exquisite shoes cut our feet off. Looking this good can be agony.

I was trying to fit in with a couple of the younger ladies in attendance, I think I was failing miserably as I had never attending finishing school indeed; such was the hast at which I was smuggled out of Belfast I had never even finished school.

Luke approached me in a bit of a tizz. "Ladies, if you don't mind, I need to borrow my darling Stephanie just for a few moments." I am not sure that most of the girls I was standing with had even noticed my presence.

Until Luke added, "Sir Geoffrey would like to be introduced to you." For some reason that got their attention.

He took my arm and we began to cross the room to a group of older men. Although they were all dressed like nun in a convent, one of them stood out. It wasn't so much in the way he was standing, it was the way his cohorts stood, in complete deference to him.

Luke advised, "Stephanie, I cannot emphasise enough the importance of this introduction. Sir Geoffrey is a man of influence."

I smirked and said, "Don't worry I'll be a good girl." He stopped and took a deep disappointed gulp of air.

"Stephanie, heed my advice, and speak as little as you can. If you have to speak remember others cannot understand you, so slow down. Please. I will not be there to translate!" I nodded that I would try, wondering where he would be.

We approach the group of men, the one I suspected was the most important said something just out of ear shot, and his friends left him alone. Luke introduced us, his voice had changed, and he sounded posh the way news readers from England on the BBC sounded.

After a few moments of niceties Luke was shooed away. Leaving Geoffrey and I alone. There were no more pleasantries exchanged, the gentleman said, "You're not like the other Ladies here are you?" It seemed like a scolding rather than flirting. I shook my head.

"If you are not averse to it, I will have my car take you to my hotel. I will be there as soon as this ghastly night is at an end." It felt like he was pleasantly ordering me.

A smirk crossed my face, indignantly I said, "I'm sorry."

He said, "Dear fellow, I know you're a poof, just associating with that beastly waste of human flesh Henshaw tells me so. I would like to see what all the fuss is about. So, if you would be so kind to meet me at the hotel and we can tend to matters of a carnal nature."

I have to admit I was keen to find out what all the fuss was about too. So, I agreed. Soon I was being driven in a Bentley car that cost more than every house on the street I lived in, to a posh hotel.

The driver whose name I cannot remember took me to a room on the top floor of the hotel. He showed me around. This hotel room had several bedrooms, bathrooms, living rooms and some rooms I had no idea what they were for.

As he left a lady in a maids uniform entered. "Madam, would you like a drink?" I am defiantly a mammy's girl and I asked for a cup of tea. The maid seemed delighted. She guided me to one of the leather chaired lounges. Where I sat down, soon I had a lovely cup of tea served in a delicate china cup with a saucer.

Sometime later I heard the door and the man of the house entered. He spoke to the maid, out of ear shot, and joined me in the lounge.

"Did Primrose get you a drink?"

"Yes, thank you."

"What do I call you?" I almost told him my name was Shaun.

"Stephanie. What should I call you?"

"Sir Geoffrey, will do nicely." I smirked.

"I can't call you sir Geoffrey." He looked puzzled, had no one ever thought it strange to call him Sir Geoffrey sure that was his title. But what was his name.

"My school chums called me Kent, so how does that sound?"

"Kent?" I quizzed.

"Yes, I originate from one of the less prestigious parts of her majesties country."

"Very well, Kent it is." He seemed grateful to get that silliness over with.

"I have to ask you some sensitive questions. I hope that you do not take umbrage with my line of questioning."

I pre-empted him "Yes I have a prick." He smirked.

"My dear, if your manhood was ever in question you would not be here. I would go further to say that it is the very reason I was so taken by you. Alas my questions are about your background. My security team have reason not to trust you."

"Your security team?"

"You don't know who I am? Do you?" I was baffled.

"Are you Catholic?" I nodded that I was.

"Are you a republican?" This time I shook my head, he lifted a large crystal decanter and poured himself a large slug of whiskey.

"I hope that's Irish whiskey!" I mocked, he held the glass higher to his face and seriously considered its contents.

"Do you intent any mischief?" Heavens yes I did, I stood up and made my way as gracefully as I could, to the heavy Set man holding a glass of whiskey, I kissed him on the lips and dropped his fly, slipping my hand into his trousers. As seductively as I could muster I said, "Yes I intend you mischief." Instantly his fleshy member grew firmer under, under my touch.

"Jenkins." He shouted, as I stood stroking his cock through his underwear. Soon a man in a grey suit entered the room, "Sir?"

"Have Primrose leave out a change of attire for Miss Stephanie in the guest room, and that will be all for this evening. Good night."

"Yes sir, good night." The man left and closed the door. Kent put his glass back on the glass table, with his thumb and forefinger he lifted my chin up and our lips locked. With his other hand he began to fondle my bottom. Sliding the fabric of my dress up giving him access to my panty clad cheeks.

"Mischief indeed." He panted as I managed to free his cock from this white cotton underwear. I slipped to my knees and stared into his eyes as I took his sizeable penis into my ruby red lips. I felt him shudder, and buck his hips, as I alternated between sucking, licking, kissing and jerking his manhood. His musk was much more pleasant than Luke's, it was more manhood and less piss. Patricks was a boy in comparison his teen cock just smelled of old spice or Brute. This is what men should taste like, and I liked what I tasted.

He seemed to be drawing closer to the end of his stamina so I slowed down. I wanted this man in my ass. I was worried that if he came now I may never get to have him. I slipped his dick from my mouth licking the underside of his shaft. Breathlessly he asked

"Why ever did you stop?" I began to stand up, as I did I push him gently backwards onto a chair. I realised that I was completely in control of this situation. I probably could do what I wanted. Right now, I wanted Sir Geoffrey from Kent. But I had to keep him keen, for as long as his balls were full, he would be in mine to play with as I pleased.

To judge the situation, I hitched my black dress up revealing my crotch. I placed myself, kneeling over him on the couch. My genitals just a little away from his face. He was hesitating, his mind was unsure what to do. I need to put his carnal desires back in charge, so I pulled my black panties down a little releasing my own penis, it bobbed up in down with my heavy breathing. Moment of truth, if he reached out and touched my dick I would be the boss of this. Otherwise he could push be over and fuck me raw. I was ok with either outcome.

He took me by surprise, diving mouth first onto my hard cock. Taking it straight into his throat sucking me all the way in. I grunted in both surprise and approval. He had both of his hands on my ass cheeks pulling my dick deeper into this wanting mouth.

His fingers began to make their way to my prize. His oral ministrations took my mind of the fact that Sir Geoffrey of Kent was an accomplished cock sucker, and that he now had two fingers in my little asshole. Soon one of his thick manly fingers probed deeper, it wiggled and found its way to my prostate. It would not be long. It seems that I had misjudged my lover. I was never in control; how could an eighteen-year-old tranny have any sway over what a knight of the realm thought or did?

My breathing quickened as my orgasm rushed through my body I tried to pull away, but he sucked me deeper and took my entire load directly down his throat.

I felt an emptiness as he withdrew his fingers from my ass, he sucked them into his mouth and moaned his approval at their flavour. I was still kneeling over him, with him between my legs. I dropped down and parted my cheeks, his cock was right there. I felt it tickle my opening, I lowered down his shaft and he was inside. I rested there adjusting to his presence, staring deep into his big eyes. We kissed once again, he had swallowed my entire load of cum but I could still taste myself.

Now I was ready, I raised myself up his length, just as he was about to pop out I dropped back down. Up and down his nice cock, his girth stretching me his length pleasuring my insides. I picked up the pace. My own cock rose back to life, as we made love. I am not for a second saying that this was a relationship that was built to last. But as we gazed into each other's eyes, we loved this.

I started to ride him faster and faster, the sound of my bottom slapping into his lap echoed around the room. Our panting and grunting only made the voyeur listening on the other side of the door, horny. He would be jerking himself now as well as our noises where pure sex.

He yelled out as if in pain, and I felt his cock swell inside me. Such was his size that I could feel it growing bigger. I was still too aroused, I needed more. He took a few seconds, to compose himself, and eased me off him. I stood in bewilderment, sure that the slightest touch would bring spunk streaming out of my bobbing prick.

He stood quickly dropping his black dress trousers to the floor, along with his boxer shorts, he then dropped to his knees and bent over the sofa, offering me his ass.

I dove down and forward. Somehow he had lubed himself up because I slid straight into his back passage. It was a tightness and a warmness that I had never before experienced. He grunted louder now, as did I. He whispered words of encouragement not in keeping with his status as an officer of the realm.

I gripped tightly on his hips as I fucked his ass. It didn't take long but soon I was filling his ass with my own salty mess.

Soon we were both slumped on the floor panting our contentment. Both our asses leaking spunk. Both our cocks limply drooling clear liquid.

When we had recuperated enough we had another go. For a gentleman, he couldn't get enough of my tranny cock in his ass, demanding that I came not in his ass, but pull out and shoot across his face.

After several innings, I fell asleep. I awke the next morning, and a lovely maid offered me tea. She showed me the bathroom and encouraged me to bathe. When I emerged clean and refreshed she had left a change of clothing for me. A simple trouser suit outfit.

I left and wrongly believed that I would never hear from my Kent again.

Three days later I was in a pub having lunch with some of my work friends. I was at the bar getting a round in, when a man with a greying mullet dressed as if he just came off a building site, sat to my right, and a blonde attractive woman dressed in jeans, and a black turtle neck sat to my left. I shuddered as the man asked in a thick Belfast accent, "How are ye, Shaun?"

I tried to get up to leave, but the metal cylinder pointing into my ribs, suggested that I should stay.

"How's your ma? Shauny boy?" I took a deep breath, fearing that they had my mummy.

"Cause your da, has a message for ye."