The Prince and the Fairy Pt. 05

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 5 - A day at the races

It was an old van, I could tell by the way it rattled and shook as it went over every bump on the road. I wish I could tell you how it smelled, but my nose was all but gone. I couldn't taste anything but blood. I imagine that it smelled of a mixture of old oil and my own excrement and urine.

Such was the beating I had received over the last few hours (or was it longer?) I no longer had control of my bowel or bladder. I was lying in a pool of my own piss, the saltiness of which was cruelly stinging my open wounds all over my body.

Some people wonder if they were put in this situation whether they would prove to be courageous our not. Such thoughts had never entered my little sissy mind.

I had always been a queer. The bravest thing I had ever done was to allow my neighbour to know that I wanted to suck his cock.

But I did surprise myself a few months ago when I walked into an Irish book shop in soho. I had been abused by my lover's driver, now I sought my revenge. Safe in the knowledge that he would never sell out his employer, I would hand him over to the Irish Republican Army. Who in the early 1980's where still in the midst of a bloody conflict to liberate the northern portion of the island of Ireland.

I have to admit I looked good that day. I wore a calf length pleated cream skirt, a satin green blouse with long sleeves, and a lovely pair of brown court shoes. Not that it mattered my Macintosh obscured all but the hem of my skirt and my lovely heels.

I had no code, I was not a member of a secret society, and I had no way of knowing but the book shop was under MI5 surveillance. My aunt Theresa had told me about the shop, and if I had any bother that they would look out for the brothers and sisters of Ireland.

Rather naively I asked the old man at the counter if he could pass on a message to his colleagues that I needed to talk to them.

Several weeks ago (or was it months time was not really a thing I was paying attention to lately) I was approached by two Irish folk, who claimed to be from the IRA. They had knowledge of me, my family and they had a rather salacious photo, that had been taken with a telescopic lens through a window of me on my knees gobbling away on the cock of the royal families spokes person for Irish Affairs. They demanded information on Sir Geoffrey Hamilton claiming that they wouldn't harm him.

I was naïve, but I wasn't stupid or as was said in my hometown of Belfast, "I didn't come up the Lagan in a bubble." So I knew better than to hand over my meal ticket, I had no affection for Sir Geoffrey other than I liked fucking him, and it would appear that he liked fucking me enough to spoil me.

The working-class poof from the mean streets of West Belfast had a luxury serviced apartment in London, along with a substantial allowance for clothes, shoes, food, drink and whatever else I wanted. I was flown first class to America where a top surgeon gave me beautiful C-cup breasts. I wanted for nothing. I was not silly enough to risk that.

I asked around and Jenkins was an old fashioned ex-royal marine. He wouldn't sell out Sir Geoffrey. But the RA would try their best to beat it out of him.

Given my current predicament in the back of an old van on the way to my funeral, it would appear that Karma was a double-edged sword.

A few hours after my visit to the book shop, I was sitting having a cup of tea in an exquisite tea house in the centre of London's Financial district when I heard those accents.

I have heard that the Northern Ireland accent is considered one of the sexiest in the British Isles but to me it was like someone dragging their cutlery across a plate. I quivered as I heard the pretty girl say that must be him there. I looked up and she was pointing at me.

They approached, and I could see that the staff were a little upset at both their attire and their manor.

"You're looking good Shawney boy." I wasn't sure if he was mocking me or threatening. Then again it could just as easily have been a genuine compliment. His lady accomplice wasn't so impressed.

"It seems like our oppressors like little faggots like you Shaun." They were both speaking loud enough for the entire room to hear. So, I decided to reply just as loudly.

"I was under the impression that the Irish Republican Army wanted information on a valuable target."

It worked they both panicked. "Shut your fucking bake, are ye trying to get us shot?" I sniggered. And reached into my hand bag and pulled an envelope which I slid to the blonde girl.

"What's this?" The man asked.

"Geoffrey's driver. His address in Watford, the car he drives. He's an ex-solider are you sure you can handle him?" He washed with anger, I think if he wasn't so afraid of being arrested he would have attacked me. "Get this fucking straight, the army council decide on targets. Not little dick jockeys like you."

"You are right. But Geoffrey has round the clock security. Except when Jenkins takes him on personal errands." I lied. There was still a lot of security when Geoffrey was screwing the likes of me.

"So, Jenkins is your in."

"Maybe you are our in? Maybe we give you a gun and you shoot him."

I snorted, "Are you serious? I thought that you were the scary IRA, I didn't think that a gay boy like me could be of any help. Perhaps you're too afraid of the brits." That did it.

"Shut the fuck up, we'll put him under surveillance see where it goes." They turned and left. To be honest I thought that would be the last time I would lay eyes on them.

Unfortunately, I was wrong.

Sir Geoffrey invited me as well as three of his other personnel Assistants to ascot racecourse. Now I know that the Irish are stereotypically a horse racing culture. But I had no interest in sports. Well that was until I found out about Ladies day...

Where have you been all my life. As usual Kim phoned me to make the appointment. When I rose myself from my slumber I found a new black and white dress with matching hat, shoes and very expensive sparkling jewellery in my dressing room.

I was to be ready by eight thirty. Of course, appropriate lingerie was required. It was a regal day so seemed stockings, attached to my new six strapped black lace Basque and matching French knickers. Applying my make up sitting in my undies, I felt something that I had almost forgotten about this last while, little Shaun began to stir. I didn't want to waste a large shot, Sir Geoffrey did love to catch my pearl necklace, and I had saved a special large string of pearls up for him.

So, I tucked Little Shaun between my legs and went about getting ready.

As the car arrived I looked better than I had ever looked in my life. I knew I would have competition this afternoon for Sir Geoffrey's affections. He was also bringing three of his other girls with him. I was sure that only one of us would be getting laid tonight.

I found it easy to walk in heels. I guess it was the childhood I spent nimbly climbing trees, and avoiding bullies that gave me a certain grace while tottering along four inches above where the good lord had intended me to be.

But I was not alone. As we arrived I noticed that we were all looking fabulous. Each one of us adorned in the finest fashion that money could buy. None of us had any trouble walking in heels. I was expecting bitchyess but there was none. We behaved like co-workers not competitors. It was refreshing and relaxing to have friends.

It seemed that our Sponsor had one of every type of girl available. There was Claire who was a tall slender white woman in her early twenties. Then there was Rachael a slim yet curvy white woman with massive breasts she was also in her early twenties and there was Suzanne an American lady of African origins whose legs went on forever. Then there was me, the girl with the dick, throw in an Asian, an Indian and a Hispanic girl and you would have the complete set.

We were introduced to the great and the good. We marvelled at the fashions, and the fellas. While our men folk bet obscene amounts of money on which horse could run fastest.

I was having fun. That was until the freedom fighter dressed in a serving girls uniform made her way over to me with a tray of champagne. My heart skipped a beat. But it appeared she didn't recognise me at first. When she did, she flushed red, but made no gesture to me in any way. She was a very pretty woman with massive emerald green eyes, and she kept her hair short. This along with her slimness did draw correlations with the super model from the nineteen sixties, Twiggy.

Over the course of the afternoon, my companions were each offered off to other gentlemen and one by one they left us. It turned out that Sir Geoffrey was selling off his little harem. But despite being introduced to several gentlemen I remained with Sir Geoffrey. I wasn't sure how I felt by this. I just hoped that he wasn't upset with me.

As the evening drew to a close, I was summonsed to another function room, which was altogether grander than the one I had spent the day in. I was introduced to a familiar looking man in his early thirties. Although relatively attractive there was nothing appealing about him. Everyone else we met was introduced by their titles, this chap was simply introduced as Henry, which seemed odd.

He stole me away for a few minutes and tried to impress me with the size of his .... Wagers. It took me a little while before I realised that Henry was not interested in women, he was as gay as I ever was.

Once he got over himself there was a boyish charm about him, and I was enjoying myself in his company.

But soon I was back with my chaperone in the main room. Sometime around eight Sir Geoffrey announced that we were leaving. And hinting that he had a surprise for me.

We drove home in separate cars, I was instructed to go home and clean my back side, as Sir Geoffrey would be joining me. As soon as I got home then I made my way to the bathroom and douched my little hole and slipped in the buttplug.

No sooner had I finished preparing for my lover to join me than he arrived through the door. I was still in the bathroom, but I heard him make his way straight to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a glass of whiskey. Then he asked someone what they would like to drink. I though he's brought a friend for me to play with. Assuming it would be another man I was shocked when I heard a girl reply. Not just a girl but an Irish girl, from Belfast no less.

As I walked into the lounge I nearly died when I saw Niamh sitting in my lounge. Trying to play it cool I asked, "What's going on here then?" Sir Geoffrey rose to great me.

"Here she is, the beautiful Stephanie." He made his way to me and planted his lips on mine, ungracefully he reached round and cupped my ass pulling our crouches together. The taste of stale cigar smoke and whiskey was foul.

"Stephanie, you know you made me a very powerful man today. We are going to be so happy." He kissed me again.

"Unfortunately, this is perhaps our last tryst together. And doubly unfortunately I have celebrated a little too hard, so I am not sure that I could fuck that hot ass with all the will in the world. But I have always wanted to watch two lesbians fuck. And Niamh here has offered her rather exquisite pussy for this very purpose." He reached up two fingers and put them under my nose, "Smell that. Doesn't her snatch smell like a sex goddess." All I could smell was cigar smoke. I looked at Niamh and she was slowly stripping off her uniform. I turned my gaze back to Geoffrey, "Our last time?"

"Yes my dear, her majesty requested that I find a girl for her poofter grandson, and dear Henry has decided that your attributes are just what he needs..." He ran the palm of his hand between my legs stroking my cock through my dress... "And your beautiful looks are just what the ambitious people of this aspiring nation need. You are to be a princess. Or a duchess or whatever title is bestowed upon you." Niamh had walked over to our embrace and Geffrey was groping us both. I felt a shock of sexual desire as her soft hand touched my cheek. She leaned into my ear and whispered, "Have you ever been with a woman?" Her finger was brushing across my lips, I instinctively I sucked on the tip of it shaking my head to indicate that this was my first time.

Seductively she again whispered, "Let me teach you."

Somehow, she managed to unbutton my dress and it fell effortlessly to the floor. I was now standing my lacy black Basque, no knickers (I had removed them for Geoffrey's ease of access), fully fashioned stockings with the straightest seem possible and beautiful four inch black stiletto heels.

Niamh was topless revealing her little a-cup breasts, her pale brown nipples were rock hard, and her brown areola spread to cover almost all of her little tits. She stood wearing just a pair of ivory satin French knickers and a pair of black low heeled Mary Jane shoes. I knew that this woman was probably a cold blooded killer, but there was an air of vulnerability about her standing almost naked in front of me.

I am into guys. I love the roughness of their touch, the non-delicate way they kiss, suck and fuck. I love the chaffing from their stubble on my chin, the unsubtle way they jab their cock at you, the smell of raw animalistic sex. Niamh was quite the opposite, and I couldn't get enough of it. I thought that I would prematurely lose my load the first time our oily lipstick touched. My lungs struggled to re-inflate with air, the first time her small pointy tongue entered my mouth. When her hands freed my own c-cup tits from my Basque brought me to the verge of fainting, and when she sucked in my nipple my knees buckled.

I have been fucked many, many times. Until now I assumed that was what making love was like. Raw, Rough and Rapid. There was nothing rushed about how Niamh was touching me. With men, there is an end game, and the faster they get there the better. Niamh was now teasing me, she had me on the verge and she hadn't even touched me below the waist.

Every touch, every caress was purposeful, not intended for her pleasure, no she was pleasuring me. This was new territory me. In my experience sex with a man went like this;

We kiss, it's not passionate, purely functional. Then comes some cock stroking depending on how liberal he is, sometimes he will also stroke mine. My head is then pushed onto his cock to get it ready to fuck me. Sometimes he will spit on my ass and finger me, again this depends on how liberal he is most guys will only touch my ass with their dicks. Then I get fucked, it is fast rough followed by Ewww don't touch me, get away your covered in my cum.

Niamh was different. She may have been playing for the audience, but I was enjoying this. Soon it was my turn to return the favour. She sat up on my big oak dining table and beckoned me to come closer.

We began to kiss again, and my hands explored her body, soon my lips left hers and I worked my way down from her mouth to her neck, then to her beautiful breasts. I licked and sucked her nipples in the way she had just done to me.

Switching between them my hands made their way between her legs, she spread her legs and allowed me easier access. I eased one finger into her pussy, I was surprised at just how much moisture there was. I pulled out of her pussy and brought my finger coated in her juices to my mouth and we both licked them clean. It was musky, and almost milky. I needed a closer look.

My lips left her nipples and made their way down her tight torso, soon I was kneeling between her legs, her hairy bush at eye level, she opened her legs a little further, I accepted the invitation.

I went to work lapping away on her pussy. I had no idea what I was doing, and I could tell she was frustrated. Eventually she stopped me and guided me to her little nub like clit; "Here" she instructed. Seconds later my tongue made contact and instantaneously there was a change in her cool calm demeanour. Her legs began to spasm, and her breathing grew more rapid. In-between short sharp breaths she grasped onto my head and pulled me tighter.

I sucked and licked her pussy for all I was worth. She was now leaking little torrents of juices and piss, letting out little moans of her satisfaction. I had completely forgotten that we were putting on a show for Sir Geoffrey, he scared the life out of me when he arrived behind me and pulled the butt plug out of my ass. I looked round and the short stout man was naked, glass of whiskey in one hand my black but plug in the other. I was hoping that he was about to mount me, but I looked between his legs at a soft elderly cock, his balls hanging inches below his flaccid manhood.

I returned to Niamh's pussy, I lashed her clit with my tongue a few more times before she reached down and guided me up to her face again. We kissed our tongues dancing the tango. She broke the kiss before breathlessly stating that, "You need to fuck me now."

Who said Catholic girls were prudes?

She wrapped her legs around my waist. There was no fooling around with lube, or getting her ready. She was ready now. She was more than lubed now, as her legs tightened my dick got closer to her, and without any fiddling around my dick entered her moist pussy.

Niamh was done making love. She was just like me, sometimes you just need to fuck. I began to pound into her pussy. Sir Geoffrey was behind me offering me encouraging words, his drunk cock no use to anyone right now.

I was eighteen, it did not take me too long before I was shooting my load of cum into Niamh's wanting hole. I had over a weeks' worth of seed stored up in my little sac, and I sent it all into Niamh.

Once it had washed over me I staggered back to the sofa, spent. Sir Geoffrey replaced me between Niamh's legs, and began to suck my load out of her hole. A full day drinking champagne took its toll on me and soon I was fast asleep.

When I woke the next morning neither Niamh nor Sir Geoffrey were present.

Two days passed, and I was out shopping for a new perfume when I heard Niamh's voice, instead of sending chills up my spine it filled me with butterflies. This was short lived however. As I felt the barrel of her gun pointing into my back.

"We need to be clear on this. If you tell another soul about what happened after Ascot I will put my gun up your fairy ass and shoot you dead. Then I will do the same to your ma, and to your sister and I will spread the word that your da is a poof like you. He will get so much dick in jail, you will be jealous, well if you hadn't already bled to death that is."