The Slave Maker

"Mistress, would you like a cushion under your head?"

I was taking care of the Mistress and dialled 112.

"They are coming, Mistress, but I have to guide them, I will get some clothes."

I was thinking of putting on my maid's outfit, but in the closet I had seen other keys.

It smelled withdrawn, but when the firemen took Mistress away, I wore a tailor, I remembered wearing it the last time I drove Christopher back to the station.

Once the firemen left, I searched the closet, and stole the € 160.00 that was there. I put on what I could with my clothes on, and I fled before the Mistress could send someone to take care of me.

XVIII - The Escape

I didn't know where I was. The Euro, and the phone made me think that I still was in the European Union, in a French-speaking country or in Switzerland perhaps. I was timidly taking my first steps outside, the cars of the housing estate allowed me to say that I must always be in France. I left the village walking along the side of the road, not knowing where to go.

I was scared to death at the thought of the punishment I would receive if I was taken back. I was also afraid of reactions to my appearance. When the first cars passed at my height I hid, then as I walked away I regained courage.

"Where are you going, ma'am?" the kind tone surprised me.

"I'm going... to the city," I said, because I didn't know which city and I didn't mean to say I was running away...

"But, like that, on foot?" the gendarme I met replied. I was looking at him. (Gendarmes are military policemen in France, they are responsible outside cities)

"But are you going to 'Boigny-sur-Bionne', or 'Marigny-les-Usages'?"

"No, in the city" I tried again

"Which city? Orléans? You're going the wrong way!"

"Oh, yes, thank you very much!" but to turn back was to go back to Mistress's village.

"Do you want us to drop you off?"

"Oh, please!" I was sitting in the gendarmes' car"

"You look lost, are you all right?" the two soldiers asked me. Now I was reluctant to tell them my story. Then I was ashamed of my naiveté. I thought of the contract I signed. Did I really belong to Mistress? I preferred to keep quiet.

"Yes, I'm right."

"Do you have any papers on you, any money?" Now I was worried. And then there was this thing in my pocket.

I took out the fake driver's license and the bundle of 8 20-euro bills. He seemed relieved

"Excuse me, this is not a control! Be careful with so much cash on you anyway"

They dropped me off near the station. My head was spinning to be free, left to myself. I was thinking about getting a hotel room. But the rates would not allow me to spend more than one night. I had to find some money. I went to a bank, but I didn't dare withdraw money from Stephen's account. How would I prove that I was him? Another solution would be to work, but for that I needed an address and papers. What I didn't have.

I was a fugitive, I thought. Then I realized that I had to flee, because where would they look for me. I was in danger in the nearest big city. Not to mention the risk of running into the Mistress here as soon as she was discharged from the hospital. I was thinking about the train, Paris, and going back to Lyon. I was swallowing my saliva, that's where Angelina and Michael were going to get me. So I decided to pay for a ticket on a night bus to Bordeaux. I thought it was the opposite direction to what I was supposed to do.

It was getting dark. I saw girls going out and walking around the station. I knew what I had to do. But I was afraid. Fear of mafias and human trafficking. I didn't want to become a slave again.

"How much do you charge?"

I didn't know the prices. But I managed by offering blowjobs in a park not very far away.

And as I boarded the bus, my mouth was pasty and tears were on my cheeks. In my pockets I had even more cash than when I arrived.

The morning was starting when I arrived in Bordeaux. I was having breakfast. Then I watched the shops open. I was going to have to find the prostitutes' quarters. The station would probably be a good choice.

A small 2€ item shop opened in front of me, and mechanically I entered it. I felt safe, and it had been so long since I had gone shopping. The articles were Chinese crap. But I took pleasure in touching them, or handling them under the watchful eye of the salesman.

Finally I bought a plastic handbag, and a box of condoms. By the time I found some papers, I knew I will use them. In front of the salesman I had this thought: 'He shouldn't meet Michael and Angelina.'

"Two articles, €4.00," he said in a slender voice. I was confused.

"Are you in transition?" I asked, remembering my resignation.

"No, not yet" I was watching him.

"Do you mean to say that... you're still a girl?"

"Yes," he said, blushing a little bit

"No one is forcing you," I assured myself.

"No," he laughed. From this point of view, his femininity, which he was trying to hide, left its mark on me.

"Excuse me," I said as I left.

"Hey, come back, why are you asking me that?" I was coming back to this person.

"I..."

"Do you mean you're a woman born a man?" I liked the expression.

"Yes, and you're a man born a woman?" He was still laughing.

"Yes, that's right. Have you had surgery? "

"Uh, on the face, and the breasts... and a little there," I said as I passed my hands over the areas I was listing.

"What's a little bit?" he was still laughing...

"Well, I still have..." I didn't dare talk when customers were coming in.

"It closes at 6:30 p. m. You come to me and we talk," he proposed.

The rest of the day I shot in Bordeaux thinking about him. I held against my heart this little handbag I had bought him. When I arrived in front of the shop, it hadn't closed yet. And I waited another half an hour.

"I'm sorry, I had customers," he said.

"It doesn't matter." I was on a cloud; however what was he going to bring me?

"I know a café around here," he told me. I was following him and I wanted to take him by the hand. I was delighted to have him guide me to this unknown city.

"So my name is Emilie and I'm studying physics, which I have to finance. And then I'd like to become Emile, but for the moment I'm not yet entitled to hormonal treatments or operations, are you telling me about it for yourself?"

Obviously my story was very different, and Emile remained rather incredulous. By example he explained to me that on a dice, the 1 is the opposite of the 6. For him, Angelina had cheated by moving her glass, the day I got the one.

"You're going to have a hard time with your papers. Considering how long it takes for me. Besides, how are you gonna prove that you're actually Stephen?"

"I don't know..." I admitted.

"And... how are you going to make money?"

"I'm... going to be a whore" I admitted again. "By the time I got some papers," I added.

"Well, that's the best way to get back into the human traffic networks!"

"And where do you sleep?" He added

"Well, I'm going to find a hotel?"

"You want to... come to my flat... like friends, don't you?" Emile or perhaps Emilie bit her lip. I wasn't sure if the invitation was like friends really.

XIX - Rebuilding

Emile lived in a small student room, and I had followed him carefree. He was my solution for the night, but without being aware of it I expected more from him. I was amused to see the game console, and the motorcycle catalogues on the table, but also a big plush toy on his bed, more girlish. Emilie and Emile were both speaking here.

"I'll make you an omelette, all right!" he said to me. Soon the smells filled the room. I realized it's been a long time since I've been cooked.

"Do you prefer... for sex you know... men or women?" he asked, all red.

"I like men and women, and you?" I laughed inside at his discomfort that brought Emilie out.

"Me... I prefer girls... but it's difficult I have no... for penetration," he said, showing me his hand between his flat crotch.

"Maybe the operation will give you what you want, otherwise there are toys." I comforted him...

"The operation's not ready yet, there are still toys, yes, but I have to find the girls who want... I'm too much girlish for the straits one, too much boy for the homos"

"Protect yourself, not everyone understands."

"I know..."

We ate almost in silence, as if this conversation had definitely made us uncomfortable.

Then after a fruit, Emile asked me:

"Can I see?" I looked at him without understanding.

"The result of your operations, I mean, if you don't mind?"

I was getting up, I was uncomfortable. But I was not uncomfortable to strip, I rather was anxious to displease him.

I challenged my jacket, and then I took more time with the buttons on my blouse.

"Hey, they're as big as mine... you're not wearing a bra?"

"I rushed from... to my mistress's house."

"I'm a loser"

"It's nothing." I sat on the bed next to him, my shirt still open.

"You want to compare with mine?" He asked to me.

"Sorry?"

"I haven't had surgery yet, I still have my breasts, yours are beautiful, and they look like real ones!"

"But they're partially reals"

And we found ourselves bare-chested with our breasts facing each other. Our areolas were touching each other and seeing it our nipples both contracting

"They look sensitive too"

"Yes, you don't wear a bra either."

"No, sometimes I wrap them with strips to make them flatter!" He laughed.

There, he bit his lip, and stopped to tell me....

"And then, there... what do you have left?" he asked, showing my crotch.

I got up, and slipped my skirt, revealing my split sex

"Yeah... you have two, actually you lend me one." He got up and slipped his pants revealing boxer shorts.

"I have the packaging already," he told me before sliding the boxer and unveiling the most hairy pussy I've ever seen. I wanted to tell him that I thought he was handsome and attractive. But I was afraid of his reaction.

I approached his belly and caressed him as I moved towards his sex.

"I can touch... your thing?" He asked me.

"Yes, you can"

"I mean, it doesn't hurt you?"

"No, actually it's still sensitive."

"And without... balls, you... get hard again"

"I have trouble, and then when I do both part goes its way!"

"What if I do it like that." he asked, and coming on top of me he grabbed the two pieces in his hand and gathered them together to form a penis, which he carried to his mouth. I moan with pleasure. And I turned him over to slide my head between his legs.

"And... you can ejaculate?" he asked

"Yes, but it gets out between my legs... there is a hole," I said shamefully.

"Oh, I want to look at that!" and he sucked me faster and harder

"I thought you didn't like boys?"

"I thought you were no longer one?"

As I was moving my pelvis I would come into this mouth, a sensation unknown to me for almost two years, and I shouted with pleasure while I licked, and titillated his clitoris that was hiding in that boy's cunt.

"Oh, that's awesome," he said when I ejaculated. "And you scream like a girl!" I took that as a compliment.

It took me a little longer to make him come. We ended our night against each other in the cot.

The next day he wanted my company for his appointment with the psychiatrist. And immediately, he took me to the social worker who helped him in his efforts.

"I would like to introduce you to Sabrina. She did all the transformations, but she lost her papers. The problem is that her name was Stephen?"

"It's going to be complicated," The social worker laughed.

Once again, I had to tell my story and explain why I didn't want to file a complaint. She explained that I was complicating things but understood my choice not to be confronted with Michael and Angelina. Then my previous employer recognized me and certified that I was Stephen, which in a few months allowed me to regain my male identity.

Some nights after meeting the social worker for the first time, I was hanging out in the whore districts. Quite quickly I was directed to the places where the transvestites, or the transsexuals who had not been operated on, were found. I was a little uncomfortable. Then a customer came to me. "I like fucking perv like you, how much do you charge?"

I spotted the crappy hotel where the other girls were going. And wanting to satisfy my client, I gave him a striptease.

"Wow, you should do your own peepshow!"

He didn't lubricate me enough, and when his sex entered me I was crying. He had paid for it and he swept me away so much and more. Pain turned into pleasure, and that's what customers like.

When he left the room I still had to throw away the condom. An idea came to mind then.

XX - A new life

I'm lying on my couch, in my split skirt. On my stomach, I lift my feet to shake my calves. He looks at me, and he knows I'm doing this to annoy him.

I turn around on my back, and I bend my knees so that he can see my clear thighs between the slits of the black fabric.

He arrives then. His tight jeans look good on him. His eyes are shooting at me. He's taking out his riding crop.

"So Sab'belle, you think that after 5 johns you have nothing to do anymore" he whistles his crop to scare me.

"Emile, the loser, you're a big shot, but you wouldn't dare to use your crop." I say to provoke him. It must be said that since Emile is on hormones, he has taken a lot of muscle, and he no longer looks like the androgynous being in the 2-euro crap shop.

"Be careful, you Sab'belle, you'll cry when your ass is crisscrossed with red!" He says in a very threatening tone. He's convincing!

"All talk, it's all talk. And today I'm tired of early ejaculators, and teenagers who don't want to pay, I need a real guy, able to take me as he wants, without paying!" I say.

"And I'm not a real guy, maybe?"

"Your biscotti are a piece of crap. And there's nothing down there, and you know it!" I say, showing his crotch with my foot.

He grabs my arm and turns me over onto the couch, I scream. He lifts my dress, and the first blow of the crop falls on a buttock that my thong leaves naked. I scream and put my hand on the spot. He strikes again on the other buttock. I'm screaming again.

"Stop, stop, stop..." I try

"No, either you acknowledge that you provoked me, or I continue" he raises his whip.

"I provoked you! I recognize it!"

"Then get in position, and I give 10 strokes!"

"No, it's not worth ten shots, and you've already given me two! Five blows maximum!" I say.

The whip falls on my thigh, I'm still screaming.

"Don't argue. I only count when you're in position. If you count, maybe I'll stop at 8," he shouts.

"I'm getting into position" and I'm doing it. On my knees in front of the sofa, I lift the bottom of my dress and cross my arms behind my back to clear my buttocks.

"Get your ass up a little bit." I'm up and excited and fearful.

"Well, you don't move, you count and you thank me for taking care of you!"

I don't have time to react, the crop falls, and I get a scream. I can imagine the red trail left by the leather toe.

"One, thank you for taking care of me!" I say between two tears. And as soon as I finish the next move falls

"Two, thank you for taking care of me!" I'm in tears and my makeup is already running. He's stroking again.

I scream... I wait... then I say "Three, thank you, thank you for taking care of me" it's hard to talk. I'm in pain, and somehow like it.

He doesn't knock, he waits. I turn around, the blow falls

"Four, thank you, Ouch Five, Ouch Six!" He stops again. "Thank you for taking care of me."

I hope he stops at Six. I think he's exaggerating even though I know he can hit harder. Obviously he wants the red marks to be seen on my butt, more than hurting me.

"Spread your butt!" I'm freezing. "No, not that, Emile, please" but I still hope to stay at 8 shots and no more so I do it, I grab each of my buttocks and spread.

"Ow!!!!!" I scream, and then I added "Seven"

"Get your fucking ass spread open!" he shouts. I realize I dropped it. I catch up with my buttocks by whining. The pain inside my butt is terrible. "Eight, thank you for taking care of me..."

There seems to be a break. I dare not turn around. I hope it will stop there.

"Come suck me, now."

I turn around, I have trouble moving, but I come to him. I'm opening his pants. Since we first met, he has been trimming his hair. The hormones caused his clitoris to swell. It is standing towards me from almost 3 cm. I spread his labia majora, and blow hot air, then touch with the tip of my tongue. A clitoris is more sensitive than a penis.

"Hmm, yes, keep going like that," he says in his hoarse voice.

I lick and insert the tip of my tongue into his vagina. My butt is on fire. And he moans with pleasure. It's a low scream but not very masculine.

My head was still in his pants. Suddenly I drop these pants and his underwear

"You'd like everyone to see what kind of guy you are," I shout.

He turns me around; he's so much more muscular than me. He grabs my thong and drops it violently.

"I'm the kind of guy who goes well with your kind of girl!"

He leans over me, takes my pieces of turgid penis to bring them together, and puts a condom on me. My hormonal dosage had been corrected; the condom holds the two pieces of my penis together. He impaled himself on me. I have a gargle of pleasure when I feel this sheath around my sex. I'm the one who penetrates him, but from our positions you might think it's him. He's shaking his pelvis, and I believe he's giving me what I deserve. I think he believes in it too. I grumble about pleasure. So does he.

Finally I come, and so does he. He gets up. I feel the sperm between my legs. It's mine, but in our delirium it's his.

He collapses next to me. He too is emptied.

I look at the window on the side and the curtain closes, the audience will leave, our show is finished.

"Did you like it?" he asks me.

"Ten strokes, where did you see that? And between the buttocks it's a sleeve!"

"You're even more realistic like that, and really stiff, I'm sorry, but you could have said 'red'. Beside I like this scenario"

"Hmm, I prefer the one where you fuck me with your strap! Is it tomorrow's one?"

"Hmm, no, tomorrow is..."

"Hey, go take a shower, you have admirers in the dressing rooms, and I have another couple after you, it's not that they have a lot of people, but well!"

I look at Emile, my man. I touch the necklace I bought. He didn't understand right away when I gave him the key. I cannot remove this slave collar which has no ring.

"The boss is right; at work tomorrow we won't be awake if we don't go to bed early enough!"

In our dressing room the admirers pass one after the other, and they give us new ideas.

There a young woman is hurrying. I recognize our social worker. She took good care of us and my papers. She was furious when we started doing this. But she still contacted my former employer and my bank. She got the letter of recommendation. My bank account had been emptied and closed by Angelina and Michael. But she had done a hell of a job, though, to help us to get papers and jobs.

"I have your new ID card, with Sabrina in Stephen's place," she tells me.

"Great!" I'm a little uncomfortable that she saw our show, but happy to be recognized as a woman.

"By the way, do you take a third person sometimes?" She asks all red.

"It depends on the sex of the person, we have to think about it," Emile replied.

"I didn't expect this from you," she replied.

"Or that much of yours!" she looks at me then and laughs.