The Prince and the Fairy Pt. 04

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 4 -- The Special Personnel Assistant

Groggily I started to come too, there was a rumble and a rattle. It sounded like I was in the back of an old van. My senses had been pummelled during my ordeal, but if I had to guess, I would believe that we were driving on an unsurfaced country lane. My body was beaten, bruised and broken. My hands where handcuffed behind my back, and legs were tied together at the knees and ankles, which were attached to the handcuffs digging into my wrists.

I tried to open my eyes, but one of them was so swollen that it wouldn't open. Though very blurred I could make out the Liverpudlian woman and her Caucasian afro wearing partner. He saw that I was awake. "Good morning, we were worried that you would choke on your tongue and miss it."

"Miss what?" I struggled to speak.

"Oh, we found your wee fenian friends, and they are joining us at the funeral." I was weeping, for I knew now that I was on my way to an unmarked grave in the English countryside, into which I would be buried. I prayed that they would have the decency to kill me first.

"Don't you want to know whose funeral we are going to?" the scouse officer asked.

"His virginities?" I was tired, beaten and done for, it was the best comeback I could muster. A serious look washed over his face, one I hadn't seen before. For hours he had beaten me, abused me and generally viciously fucked me over. But he always had the appearance of someone going about their daily routine the way a fish monger regards his catch. At no time did even a hint of humanity ever entered his mental condition. That was until now.

Then again, I was pretty delusional.

He looked at his colleague and quipped, "She's at it right to the end."

"He!" She corrected.

Confused he asked, "What?"

"You said she."

He nodded and snorted, "I should have said it."

I have been called many names all my life. As a small framed boy, I was called queer, faggot and fruit even before I realised that these names were probably pretty accurate. I was a catholic living in divided Belfast so I was called Fenian and much, much worse. It was odd that being called 'it' stung more than any of the blows verbal or physical I had received since being picked up by SO14.

Oddly it reminded me of the morning after Jenkins had violated me. Instead of crumpling into a ball of tears a strange determination crept through me. I would be the best fuck slut that Sir Geoffrey ever had. My physical attributions would not allow me to fight Jenkins, but were well suited to seduce and enrapture his beloved boss, this would allow me to take Sir Geoffrey from him, and just when he was at his lowest, I would hand Jenkins over to my countrymen.

I explored my new accommodation; I had a luxurious two-bedroom apartment. There was a well-stocked kitchen, a lounge and a master bathroom with a massive free-standing bath.

I made myself a strong coffee and stepped out onto the balcony to reflect. I think that this was about the third cup of coffee I had ever drunk. I didn't much care for the taste. But the soft Stephanie was gone now. Sorry the soft Shaun was gone. Perhaps he was killed when he was brutally raped the night before.

Stephanie had survived!

I was still in my robe when the bell rang announcing that someone was at the door. Shaun would have been frightened that Jenkins had returned to claim him.

But Shaun was gone.

Stephanie opened the door. Before her stood a very short middle-aged woman in think tortoise shell rimmed glasses. She was an odd-looking woman in a second hand greyish brown pinstriped power suit. That was more shoulder pad and polyester than it was powerful. She was heavily made up, in layer upon layer of thick foundation. Topped with a red smudged lipstick. She seemed in an eternal battle with gravity as her massive cleavage that seemed overly awkward for her size. I expect that at any minute she would simply tip over.

She tottered into the apartment on top of three inch heels that she had no business nor ability to walk in. Her cheap grocery store perfume attacked my nostrils and flooded my apartment like a nauseous gas.

She made her way to the lounge and set a stack of papers down on the glass topped coffee table. Then turned to me and offered me her child sized hand to shake.

"My name is Kim Green, and I am Sir Geoffrey's private assistant."

I shook her hand and said, "Nice to meet you."

"My job is to ensure that his private affairs are conducted in the manor that he sees fit. I keep his diary, and make his private appointments. I look after his private personal staff, such as yourself, and generally I am the person you talk to if you need anything." I was astounded that this lady child knew such a complex words as job, never mind the rest of the things she said. Maybe I was just being overly judgemental.

All I could manage in reply was a curt nod to indicate that I understood.

She sat on the couch and went through her pile of papers, pulling out an employment contract, and passed it to me. I started to read it, but it was all in legal gibberish I didn't understand it. She went through it, highlighting the job title, Special Personnel Assistant, the roles and responsibilities as well as the salary and perks were a little more ambiguous. When they were mentioned in the contract, a star referred the reader to the verbal contract.

Kim explained that the paying for sexual favours was Illegal, therefore I was to be paid in kind. I would be allowed to live in the apartment for one year, I would have access to a weekly allowance of six hundred pounds. All my clothing and cosmetics would be provided for, as would my groceries and utilities. At the end of the year I would either receive an improved offer or a two hundred and fifty thousand pound payoff.

In 1982 this was a very generous offer for an eighteen-year-old working-class boy from west Belfast. I was about to jump at the chance to sign to offer before someone realised that it was a mistake. But Kim needed to read the terms and conditions.

It seems that if I did certain things that I would not get the pay off. I had no intention of running away or sleeping with anyone else, so I signed it.

"Excellent," Kim exclaimed, passing me a packet of tablets.

"What's this? The contract said no drugs?" She snorted in glee.

"You Irish girls are so backwards. This is your pill. It stops you getting pregnant. All girls must take it, it's in your contract. As is the abortion clause." I smirked a little, she didn't know. Under my robe I was naked, so I simply opened my robe when she had her back to me.

"Kim" I said she turned to face me.

"Good god you're a man!"

I smiled. "You English girls tend to overcomplicate things."

"But he isn't gay." She was struggling to come to terms with this.

"I am really not much of a man." I offered.

She shook it off. "That'll be why he wants you to see Dr Michele in America, it seems that you're getting boobs."

A few days later, I was flown to Los Vegas, where a doctor who was gayer than me operated and gave me nice pert C-cup tits. I was in recovery for a week, and within a three weeks the scaring was almost gone, just a little red line indicating where Dr Michele cut me open.

When I got back to London with a healthy tan, my wardrobe was full of the outfits made by Miss Pennyrose, and Jessica. I had twenty or thirty pairs of shoes and boots. I was admiring how everything looked and fitted when the phone rang. It was Kim.

"Stephanie, Sir Geoffrey would like the pleasure of your company this evening. He has requested that you wear appropriate lingerie, a black dress and heels. He will arrive at six and you will dine together in your apartment and have drinks on the balcony. I will have the chief prepare the meal, and the porter will stock the bar."

"Wow, all I have to do is dress myself?" I asked.

"Stephanie you are to entertain. As this is your first time, I suggest that you clean then lubricate your back passage. I have taken the liberty to replace the standard feminine products with the essentials for your specific requirements. Make yourself presentable and be ready before six." She promptly hung up.

I ran a bath and contemplated the evening ahead as I soaked.

During my short stay in America I stayed in a recovery ward for the clinic. All the patients were there to have their boobs enlarged. There were housewives, and hookers, but most of the other girls were showgirls. They told me of a new fad for shaving all your body hair off. Carefully I removed my pubes.

As I dried my hair free body off, I felt a tingle of excitement. I wondered what my lover would make of me. We had not laid eyes on each other in over a month.

In the little cupboard I found the douching set, and I cleaned out my insides. There was a large tub of Vaseline, so I liberally coated my little ass in it. There was also a black butt plug. With little effort I pushed it inside me. I instantly felt stretched.

I dressed as was ordered in a black silk bra, and panties, matching garter belt and the most expensive stockings I could imagine. I applied my make up in the way Jessica had shown me. I had been a girl for a couple of months now, so I was getting quite good at it.

Then I stepped into beautiful black dress, it was full length and the silk wafted around my ankles. The plunging top dropped to proper display the newest addition to my arsenal, the lovely c-cup globes of flesh. I jewelled up and put my shoes on. I was ready, the bell rang, and I opened it to meet the porter who served the food and stocked my bar.

At exactly six pm Sir Geoffrey arrived, he looked regal in his Savile road suit. We greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek. I served him a brandy, and we made small talk, mostly about how wonderful I looked.

He couldn't take his eyes off my tits. I rejoiced in this. He remained a perfect gentleman until I stood up to clear the table so that we could move to the dining room for the dinner. I was bent over in front of him. I am sure he let out a roar as his inner animal escaped from the boundaries of properness. He took my hips and pulled my ass toward his face. He inhaled me.

He effortlessly spun me around, and pulled my dress up revealing my panty covered cock. Which promptly he released and swallowed. His hands worked their way round to my ass and found the butt plug, he began fucking me with the rubber dildo, slurping like a cock hungry slut as he sucked on my cock.

With the attention he was giving to my ass and to my dick it didn't take long before my orgasm was building. "My darling I am cumming." I moaned breathlessly. He pulled my dick out of his mouth and pumped it with his fist a few times, soon I was spewing my seed over his wanting face.

I had no time to reflect on the orgasm, as he stood up and helped me out of my dress. He began kissing my new tits smearing my semen over them. He pushed me back down on the sofa, I looked up at him as he pulled his cock out of his trousers. He lifted my stocking clad legs into the air and dangled them over his shoulder. He then pulled the butt plug out of my ass and replaced it in one quick motion with his dick. He was much bigger than the plug. I grunted my approval as he took me.

He pounded me silently for minutes, slowly jerking my flaccid cock as he did so. Pretty soon he said I want to cum over your tits. But I think he left it too late. He pulled out of my ass, and his first shot covered my balls. By the second shot he had re-aimed and was sending jet after jet up my body coating my new tits in his hot salty cum. He collapsed on top of me. Both of us breathless. Both of us spent.