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by Alberta Moon
Oddly enough, my troubles began the day I decided to buy a Slave. Oh, perhaps I should back up a bit and explain. My name is, or was, rather, Donald Martell, and I am - or was, rather quite wealthy. My status and identity at present are both a bit iffy, but that’s what I’m writing this about. You see, a man like myself - like I used to be, I mean - gets used to having pretty much anything he wants. And after going through one messy divorce and another messy "palimony" suit, brought against me by an ex-girlfriend, I decided that I wanted female companionship on my terms, free of legal encumbrances and unwanted emotional demands. I didn’t want to visit brothels or have Call Girls over, because I’m a man (was a man!) who likes to have a woman all to myself for as long as I want her. Also, I appreciate having a woman about the place, always there when I need her, and classy and beautiful enough for me to take out to parties or on the town when the mood strikes me. Obviously, no Call Girl could fill that bill, and when I discussed with my Attorney the possibility of drawing up a pre-nuptial agreement that spelled out all my conditions, he told me that such a contract would amount to virtual Slavery! I happened to mention this one evening at a party to a friend of mine named William Edgars and his eyes lighted up almost immediately. "But that’s it, Donald," he smiled. "Don’t you see? What you need is a Slave! Perhaps two!" "Do try not to be quite so stupid, Bill," I sighed. "Where is any man in a so-called Civilized Country like this going to get a Slave in this day and age?" Bill ignored the insult as I knew he would and kept smiling. "I know where," he said. "I know how, and, most importantly, I know who! Now are you really interested?" I sighed again, feeling a slight twinge in my wallet. I described William as a Friend, but what he is actually is a Hanger-on. He makes his living sucking around the Very Rich, being charming, obliging, and generally doing whatever he can for a price. Oh, I don’t have anything against Bill, actually. I mean, he is a very charming fellow, and perhaps not quite as mercenary as some persons in his profession, but Bill is basically of no more consequence than a bit of Gift Wrap around an empty package, and that all he ever will be. "How much?" I asked, "And what for?" "Five thousand," he smiled shamelessly "For an introduction to a man here at this party who can sell you as many slaves as you like of course, he will only sell to people whom I can vouch
for, since he trusts me implicitly, but if I give the word, you’re in, Old Man What do you say?" "I say One Thousand," I countered, "And where is the filthy pimp?" "Tell you what," William insisted. "I’ll introduce you to him for free, out of the goodness of my heart. But if you buy from him, you pay me a Finder’s Fee of Five Grand!" "Three." "Four." "Done!" Bill beamed. "Let’s shake on it and I’ll take you over to him." A short time later, I was looking down into the pasty face and watery eyes of Fekkim Ammatuk, a pudgy, revolting little slug from somewhere in the Middle Fast. As usual, he was expensively dressed, and as usual, he looked like a Cheap Pimp I remembered him at a previous party somewhere, and I had a vague recollection of having insulted him to his face after a few Martinis, but apparently he didn’t recall it, because he smiled his soft, pandering smile up at me as William made introductions. "Ah yes!" he simpered. "Mister Martell! I remember you distinctly. And how may I have the pleasure of serving you?" And so it was that a few days (and a lot of money) later, I was the happy owner of two lovely, nubile, totally obedient slaves. Monika and Jasmin. Both were tall women, with excellent figures, long, dark hair, and wide, deep brown eyes. But there the resemblance ended. For where Monika’s skin was the color of expensive ivory, Jasmin’s was more the of lightly-creamed coffee perhaps with a drop of Honey in it. She was Brazilian by birth, and College-educated, having come to this country as an exchange student. For her part, Monika was from Southern California of mixed parentage; and had a degree in Sociology from UCLA. Both girls were highly intelligent, as you may have guessed, but both were also lively, humorous, and cheerfully servile. It wasn’t long, of course, before I asked them the Inevitable Question; How did two lovely young girls in their twenties, with College Degrees ever end up as Slaves? "Sheer good fortune!" Jasmin laughed, her white teeth sparkling in her brown face. "You seem I was a little naive about finances, and I got rather heavily in debt to some very nasty men. Then I proceeded to compound the problem by running up a large gambling debt. Well, as I said, these were some rather nasty gentlemen, and they decided that I should work off my debts by working in some rather unpleasant places, doing some things that... Anyway, let’s just say that things looked awfully rough
for me when Fekkim showed up and offered to buy me from the men I owed money to. He did not try to sugar-coat what I was getting myself into, and he made it very plain what would happen to me if I took him up on his offer and then tried to back out. But he did promise me that I would be cared for and looked after by wealthy gentlemen - one at a time, of course - kept clean and healthy, and not be beaten any more than I deserved. And I must say, he’s lived up to his promise completely. Oh, there was a rather rough period of adjustment at first, before I completely realized how utterly without rights a Slave really is, but I know now that I owe Fekkim my life, and since you have bought me from him, that life now belongs to you!" "As for me," Monika explained, "I knew there were still various forms of Slavery in the so-called Free World, and with my racial heritage, and my background in Sociology, I thought it would be wonderful if I could do a study of modern-day Slavery among the upper classes. A friend introduced me to Fekkim, and he agreed to take me on for a year. "Well, I had the same difficult period of adjustment that Jasmin had, but at the end of that year, I realized that I was just naturally submissive. Maybe it would be different if I were badly mistreated or something, but I can honestly say that I wouldn’t trade this life for anything on earth. I love Fekkim, and I owe my loyalty totally to him and to anyone he chooses to sell me to. "This Fekkim must have hidden depths I never suspected," I said "Tell me, am I as good a Master as he?" "Well..." "Go on," I urged. "Well, you’re very considerate and handsome, and we just love this house and all the clothes and jewelry and cars and the nice places you take us to," Monika admitted. "But... well we sort of miss the Total Authority that Fekkim used to have. Sometimes he’d tie us up, or spank us or... other things, and even if we did not always like what he did to us, there was always that feeling of being totally in his power! That thrill of being completely helpless and cared for in a way I know that if you’re not even partly submissive. I’ll never be able to explain it to you, but Jasmin and I loved it! Sometimes we even play games where one of us is the Master and the other one is her Slave, and we tie each other up and things we both enjoy it so much!" "You mean to say that you’d both like me better as a Master... you’d both love me more... if I beat you?" Both women nodded sheepishly. "But dammit, you haven’t done anything to be beaten for!" "Oh yes we have, Master," Monika insisted "Just this morning I made you wait an extra thirty seconds for your coffee!" "And last week I spilled my purse as we were leaving the restaurant," Jasmin put in, "Remember?"
"Those are hardly things to merit a beating," I replied, trying to figure out what these two were getting at. "Then what would merit a beating, Master?" Jasmin asked. "Yes!" Monika chimed in "What would we have to do that would be bad enough that you’d tie us up and spank us?" And now I understood They were looking to me for some kind of guidance. They wanted discipline from me, but they did not want to go too far It was up to me now to name some kind of petty crime; Not something that would really upset me, but something that would serve as a useful pretext for the kind of gentle punishment that these two girls so obviously craved. Knowing that they would probably promptly go out and commit whatever transgression I named. I reeked my brain quickly, trying to think of something that I wouldn’t mind too much. Let’s see now... I wouldn’t want them cheating on me, no that would never do. Now what could they do...? I had it. "Well," I said casually. "I guess stealing from me is about the first thing that comes to mind. After all, I give you girls a pretty generous allowance, so I guess that I’d be quite upset if I were to discover that one or both of you had been filching money from my wallet or jewelry from my nightstand. Is that clear?" "Very clear, Master!" Naturally, it wasn’t long after that before I started noticing little things missing around the house First it was loose change. Then small amounts of folding money Finally, I was losing more valuable things, like cuff links or a watch. It was at this point that I started administering small spankings to Monika and Jasmin. They made it childishly simple. I would catch one of them wearing my ring, or another one would "accidentally" let a few bills fall from her blouse. And then it was Punishment Time. I would order the offending girl to strip naked in front of her sister slave and stand at attention. Then I would lecture her severely on the nature of her crime. Finally, I would have her bend over and present her ass to me for five or six enthusiastic swats. After that, I might leave them tied up for a bit, or perhaps assign them to some difficult or embarrassing task, such as having them take my cars out to the Car Wash and not letting them wear any clothes, but basically my heart just wasn’t in dishing out this sort of thin, and I think they could tell it. For one thing, I had a lot on my mind lately. It seemed that everyone in our social set was making plans to visit Rio for Carnival. As the winter waned, there was talk everywhere of the riotous fun to be had in that most charming and wicked of cities at that time of year. The food, the luxury hotels, the wild, uninhibited sex, the bizarre costumes and half-dressed women
everywhere. It all sounded wonderful, especially when Jasmin told me about some of her adventures during Carnival. "It’s completely pagan," she sighed. "Just imagine a city completely devoted to the senses for an entire week! Oh, I know places like Paris and Amsterdam make quite a lot of to-do about their red-light districts, but sex is a year-round industry in places like that, and eventually it becomes Jaded and mundane. But Rio just literally explodes with sex once a year, and for that reason the people seem to truly revel in it. You see them trying the most outrageous, most uninhibited things imaginable with complete abandon. There’s group sex, of course... bondage, transvestism, fetish clothing, bisexuality..." She went on and on until at last I had to command her to stop. Because it seemed I was going to miss it all! I had foolishly forgotten to obtain a passport, and now it seemed I was going to be stuck in the States while all the rest of the crowd screwed themselves silly in Rio! What a bitter disappointment! Then Hope arrived from a quite unexpected quarter. I had mentioned my problem to Bill Edgars, and about a week later he telephoned me with the solution. "Fekkim can help you," he announced grandly. "I had only to mention the matter to him and he immediately came up with the answer. You can travel to Rio as part of his Staff!" "Part of Fekkim’s Staff?" I asked incredulously. "Me? William, have you taken complete leave of your senses? The idea of me acting as that fat Turk’s butler is enough to put me off my feed for a week!" "But you wouldn’t be," William insisted. "That’d be just a ploy to get you through Customs and such. Fekkim travels a lot and with a large staff, and he has some special kind of pull that enables him to get temporary visas for his employees. He can get you to Rio with no problem. He’s even chartered a jet for him and his entourage. And he said he’d be delighted if you and your slaves would do him the honor of accompanying him!" "Fekkim said that?" I asked. "After some of the things I’ve said to his face, that unctuous little toady actually wants to do this for me? What’s the catch?" "No catch," William insisted. "I guess he just thinks of you as a valued customer or maybe he figures that being seen with you will enhance his prestige." "Then too, of course, those girls of yours are an excellent advertisement for his services so I shouldn’t wonder that he’d be anxious to offer you his hospitality " "I guess you’re right," I admitted. "Well, you can tell the little cheesebag that I and my girls would be delighted to accept."
"Of course I will, Donald," Bill said, "And I’m glad I could be of help. Any time I can do a little something for a friend like you..." "What is it you want now, William?" I interrupted wearily. "Well, I could use a place to stay while you’re out of town," he answered quickly. "And I thought perhaps I might look after some of your business affairs." "We’ll see," I tried to put a certain cold formality in my voice. After all, even though I now owed him a favor, it’s not a good idea to let a man like Bill Edgars presume too much. "For now, why don’t you just have Fekkim get in touch with me. There’s a good lad. ‘Ta." And I hung up before he could get another word in, immensely satisfied with this excellent turn of events. Naturally, though, this sudden development meant that I would have quite a few things to attend to in the next couple of days. I decided that I’d better get some errands run and headed for my bedroom to pick up my car keys. But on my way there, I happened to pass Jasmin, just as she ‘accidentally’ dropped a bit of china on the floor, smashing it. "Oh no, Master!" she simpered. "I’m terribly sorry! Please don’t punish me!" "I’m not in the mood just now," I replied offhandedly, not even breaking my stride to see what she’d ruined. "Later perhaps I have places to go." Then, as I passed my study, I noticed Monika guiltily stuffing some of my papers under her blouse. "I’m not in the mood," I repeated, a bit peevishly. "Put them back." But it seemed there would be no respite for me. For when I got to my bedroom, I couldn’t find the keys to my Porsche. Thoroughly pissed off by now, I imperiously summoned my two little vixens and spoke to them quite severely when they stood at attention before me. "Girls," I snapped. "It seems we’re going to get to go to Rio for Carnival after all, and as a result I have quite a few things to do. I shall need some car keys. Whoever has them, please give them to me at once." Both of them just stood there. "If this is another ruse to get yourselves some punishment, then I’d advise you to drop it immediately. Now give me the car keys." Again, silence and fearful looks. This was beginning to
exasperate me. "This is your last chance," I said. "Monika, did you take my car keys?" "N...no. Master," she quivered. "Jasmin, will you give me my keys?" "I...I didn’t take them, Master. Honest I didn’t!" "I don’t believe either of you," I said with a cool anger that scared even me a little. "None-the-less, I am going to give you the treatment you so obviously want. But this time, it’s going to be the kind of treatment you deserve. Strip!" In an instant they were standing nude before me, and an instant after that, both were bending sharply forward and grabbing their ankles as I pulled the belt from my trousers. I swished it experimentally in the air and wondered for a second if this was really a wise course of action. Then one of them giggled and something inside me snapped. sssswiiiIISSSH! CRACK! It seemed like a hand other than my own swung the belt with all its might against Jasmin’s upturned brown bottom globes. I hear her gasp and whimper at the unexpected pain. CRACKKKKK! A matching blow expanded against Monika's rump and she cried out. More strokes followed. More cries. Protests of innocence that only infuriated me more. Monika broke her stance and tumbled to the floor and I whipped her where she lay. Jasmin started to break and run, though better of it, and dissolved in a tearful puddle at my feet. Finally, when my arm grew too tired to continue and the cries of the women had died down to pitiful moans. I stopped to catch my breath. Absent-mindedly, I reached into my back pocket for a handkerchief to mop my brow. And I found my keys! I won’t go into the scene that followed or try to describe my emotions at that point. I think you, the Reader, can tell that I had acted like the lowest kind of heel and all I can add is that I certainly felt like one. I asked them to forgive me, and of course they said there was nothing to forgive. I was the Master and they the Slaves... after all. By that standard, I would have been within my rights to whip them merely for my own amusement. Therefore, they explained, (still sobbing a little), I was even more justified in beating them because I thought I had a good reason! This was maddening. I realized now that if I asked them again to forgive me, they would do it simply because I asked them to! That kind of absolution would not make me feel a damn bit better
about myself. Then it hit me. What this called for was not so much absolution as... Atonement! "I’ll tell you what, Girls," I said at last. "Even though you insist that it is not necessary, I want to do something to make up for what I just did. What I want you to do now is to think of something appropriate. I hereby pledge to you both that I will do anything within reason, no matter how difficult, expensive or embarrassing, that you ask so take your time, and when you come up with something, just tell me what it is. Rest assured, I’ll do it." This statement had the desired effect. At last, both girls stopped whimpering almost at once and thoughtful looks crossing their pretty, tear-stained faces. They agreed to do as I asked and, two days later, presented me with their condition for my atonement! "We want you to walk through the streets of Rio with us at Carnival disguised as a woman," Jasmin said. "Yes And we want to pick out the disguise ourselves," added Monika. I was frankly non-pulsed for a moment, taken aback and even a bit frightened. If I agreed to this, there was no telling what they might deck me out in! Then, I remembered all that I had seen and read about the madness that pervaded Carnival. It was quite common there for men to adorn themselves in the most outlandishly feminine costumes imaginable. Indeed, some people even considered it a mark of virility for a man to be so secure in his masculinity that he would dare to parade around in woman’s garb. I swallowed my doubts and hesitations. "I’ll do it," I said. "Make whatever arrangements you want for my costume and I’ll wear it." All at once, bright smiles lighted up their eyes. I felt myself being surrounded by loving arms and warm kisses from my two slaves as they murmured obsequious thanks for this unaccustomed generosity. But it was only a mere Forty-eight hours afterwards that I found myself once again doubting the wisdom of my decision! We were in New York, on a six-hour lay over, waiting for some more members of Fekkim’s party to meet us before we all boarded his private Jet, when Jasmin and Monika calmly told me that the three of us had to go into Manhattan to pick up my costume. I was somewhat surprised at this, but they explained that they had ordered a very elaborate disguise for me to wear to Carnival and that I would have to be fitted for. As I say, I was caught somewhat off-guard by this, but still, I felt flattered that my two slaves would go to so much trouble for their Master - me - so I obligingly boarded the Copter that sped us to Midtown Manhattan. Once there, we took a Taxi to a small shop whose name I never did quite catch and Monika and Jasmin ushered me through the door. It certainly was a strange looking place! There were racks
and racks of brightly colored female attire, most of it extremely lacy and rather revealing. There were shelves of wigs, in all colors and styles, neatly arranged in row upon row. The glass cases that ran along two walls were filled with all manner of expensive looking cosmetics, again in every shade imaginable. And finally, towards the back, there was an unusually elaborate Beauty Parlor with only a single chair! It was to this area that Monika and Jasmin escorted me, where we were greeted by a tall, pretty looking attendant who introduced herself as Janette. "You must be Donald Martell," she smiled, shaking my hand with surprising firmness. "I’d know you anywhere from your girls’ description! Well, let’s get started; just step behind that screen and undress." "Ummm... back there?", I hesitated. "Of course!" Janette smiled again. "We have to get you into your disguise, you know. Would you girls like to help him?" she turned to my two slaves. "Would we ever!" Monika giggled. "This way, Master!" And the two of them took me by the elbows and led me behind the screen. "Girls, what is all this?" I whispered as they began stripping off my tie and jacket. "It’s your disguise!" Jasmin said, unbuttoning my shirt. "You promised we could pick out a female disguise for you to wear to Carnival, remember? Anything we wanted, you said. Well, this store handles the best and most complete female disguises anywhere, and naturally we wanted the best for you!" "What’s the matter?" Monika asked, unfastening my belt. "Don’t you want to go through with your promise, Master?" That did it I guess after all those months of tending to my every need, both girls knew just what to say to egg me on, so I gritted my teeth and resolved to do whatever it took to get fitted for this disguise that my two slaves had cooked up for me. And I didn’t back down from that resolve one bit. Not even when Monika and Jasmin stripped me naked and covered my arms, legs, chest and ass with a powerful depilatory that left my body completely hairless except for the growth on my head and in my pubic area. Not even when the smiling Janette looked me up and down (although I blushed terribly under her amused gaze) and produced one of those electric shot-injecting guns! Before I could protest, she had administered four quick injections, one under each side of my chest, and one on each hip. When I asked what they were, she merely giggled and told me they were to help me fit my disguise! Perhaps it was the shots themselves, or merely the shock of
getting them, but I felt a little woozy and out of it as they led me to the adjustable chair and strapped me in. Janette lowered the back, so that I was lying nearly flat, then dropped the head rest until I could no longer see the rest of my body. And then all three of them set to work as I lay in a passive, unresisting cloud. Jasmin applied herself to my hair, soaking it in something, rinsing it out, and even treating it with a curling iron! Monika, meanwhile, applied herself to my face and nails, painting, powdering, rouging and shaping my eyebrows, fingertips, eyelids, lashes and lips until they finally met with her approval. As for what Janette was doing, I couldn’t really tell. I mean, I knew by now of course that the girls were putting me into a really elaborate female disguise, complete with hairstyle, makeup and shaved limbs, but just what the purpose of those shots was, I couldn’t guess. I felt a dull throbbing in my chest and ass, but I just felt too deep and dreamy to protest or even ask about it. And meanwhile, Janette was doing something to my crotch! I felt her squeezing my balls back between my legs and coating them with something soft and sticky. I felt my penis being slipped into some sort of tube that was glued, I think, back over my balls, compressing them into a tiny package. I felt her fastening something over all this, something that felt soft and furry, and held on with metal clips and some kind of glue. And then, just as my apathetic trance was beginning to wear off, I heard Janette announce, "She’s ready, Girls!" Dainty feminine hands loosed the straps and pulled me from the chair, and led me over to a mirrored wall. In the reflection, I could see four women approaching us, Janette, Jasmin, Monika and one attractive stranger who seemed to be totally nude! My eyes swept over her shapely form, taking her long, smooth, shapely legs, the round swell of her hips, the creamy complexion of her soft skin, the generous bounce of her nude breasts as she walked towards me. Her hair was a rather obvious wig, but still vary attractive falling over ivory shoulders in a gentle auburn cascade. Beneath this, her face was charmingly feminine, a look of mild stupidity somehow adding to the allure of her arched eyebrows, long lashes, shadowed eyelids, and pretty, pouting red lips. Her cheeks had been rouged to perfection, and as I looked at her more closely, it somehow seemed that she was studying me with a new intensity... Something was wrong here. I raised my right hand. She raised her left in perfect unison. I swept my fingers back through my hair and felt it unusually long and thick and somehow not my own, even as I watched her sweep her lovely tresses back. I moved my hand down to my chest and watched in growing fascination as her hand moved down and cupped one of those perfect titties. I flexed my thumb and felt a tingle of excitement shoot through my breasts even as her own nipple
stiffened and grew in response. And then I dropped my hands lower, feeling between my legs for the familiar touch of my male equipment. Her hand did likewise And each of us found only the soft, yielding, furry moistness of a woman’s inviting love-nest. I was looking in a mirror! "Monika!" I shrieked, my voice a full octave higher than normal. "Jasmin! What the hell is this?" My eyes widened as I looked directly down at my busty feminine chest, my smooth, flawless skin, the curvaceous legs and - incredibly - the female genitalia between them! It’s your disguise, Master!" Jasmin repeated. The one you promised us! Aren’t you just lovely, though?" "But how... What...?" I stammered, running my delicate hands over the New Me in growing perplexity and more than a little alarm. "How did you do all this? What is it?" "It’s only the latest and last word in feminine disguise for the dedicated Transvestite," Janette explained. "Depilatory and conditioner to smooth your skin, shots to temporarily swell up your breasts and bottom, and a clever little false pussy, made of latex and real human hair, glued over your masculine genitals and bonded to the skin. It’s fully operational and can’t be removed without a special solvent. You’re a complete female for as long as you care to be!" "But I don’t care to be!" I protested. "I’m a man, dammit! I never promised..." I broke off, suddenly aware of the heart breaking disappointment in the faces of my two female companions. "Well," I whined, "I mean, I never thought..." The sadness in their eyes seemed to border on something else... Rejection? Contempt? Was I actually losing face with my own slaves by complaining about this outlandish get-up they'd tricked me into? Yes, I was. I could tell by their expressions that the girls had really expected me to live up to my promise. After all, I had beaten them mercilessly for no good reason and then committed myself to an act of atonement. Maybe this thing wasn’t too far out. After all I mean, I did look sort of nice... very classy and all, and it would only be for as long as I decided to continue with it as... "All right," I sighed Let’s pick me out a dress!" But if I had ever suspected what that decision, so easily made, was going to lead me into, I would have put a stop to the whole thing right then and there.
Instead, I went along with what I thought was a harmless adventure. Until it was too late!
We got to the Airport just in time for Fekkim’s chartered jet. All the rest of his guests and entourage were there, including a few people with whom I had a nodding acquaintance, but none of them seemed to recognize me. And small wonder! My dress was a subdued but classy looking affair, simply cut, with a deceptively demure high neckline and below-the-knee hem, yet the bodice and skirt seemed to have been specially designed to emphasize the new swell of my enlarged hips and ass and accentuate the jiggle of my freshly grown breasts. Beneath this tight-fitting dress of blue Jersey (how it clung to my legs!) I wore a matching slip of gossamer blue silk and matching bra and panty set. Sheer blue pantyhose emphasized every curve of my flashing, shapely legs as I walked - as gracefully as I could in the low blue patent leather heels that Monika and Jasmin had chosen for me. Against this background of soft blue, my soft skin and auburn wig stood out in perfect harmony. A bit of tasteful jewelry and a matching dark blue purse completed my ensemble as I walked quickly to our Gate between my two Slaves. "You’re absolutely stunning, Master!" Jasmin cooed, her dark skinned arm locked excitingly around my own peach pink elbow. "Indeed you are!" Monika agreed, her paler skin equally intriguing contrast on my other side. "Your deep and blue with that eye shadow and mascara. Who thought your lashes were so long! And that touch of cheeks goes perfectly with your lipstick and nails! guess in a Million Years that you re really a man!" forming an eyes look so would have rouge on your No one would
Her words made me more than a little uncomfortable, not because I doubted the truth of them. After all, I knew only too well that I looked completely feminine right down to the false pussy that covered my real genitals, but because I was strangely unsure of how I felt about all this! It was something of a relief to be so sure that no one else could recognize me like this, but at the same time I felt oddly changed, cut off from my real identity. I felt like a frightened girl! Then I told myself to quit being silly. After all, my house and my business affairs were all in the hands of that whimpering psychopath, Bill Kdgars, who would never dare to cross me, and I was traveling to Rio, without a passport, to be sure, but under the travel visa of Fekkim Ammatik, a fawning toady if ever there was one. And as if all that weren’t enough, I’d be in the constant company of my two loyal slaves, Jasmin and Monika.
Hadn’t they sworn eternal loyalty when I’d bought them from Fekkim? What could be safer? With a shrug that was somehow like a shiver, I boarded the chartered jet with the rest of the crowd and we headed for Carnival in Rio. -----------------------If you have never been to Rio, dear Reader, then you should look it up in a travel book some time. To me, it seemed like a strange combination of Disney World and Alcatraz. There were high- rise hotels, chic restaurants and posh night spots, all geared towards the very rich - like myself. But I noticed that every where we went, there were a few very discreet yet tough looking men, some times uniformed, sometimes not, sometimes obviously armed and sometimes - well, who knew? They would be standing at the doorways of our hotel, or at the entrance to a restaurant, or simply patrolling the streets, and each time they looked at me - or any one - their eyes would quickly, coldly evaluate that person’s social status and in a split second they would decide whether he belonged there or not. I never saw them actually bar any one (until much later) but they all had such an air or quiet capability that I had no doubt about their ability to screen out any unpleasantness for the visiting wealthy tourists. At any rate, it was late when we landed and Monika, Jasmin and I parted company from Fekkim, and took a limo to our hotel, one of the best and most expensive in all Rio. At the entrance, the burly doorman gave us that quick, silent appraisal, his eyes lingering a bit over me, I thought, and then summoned bellhops for our luggage. The desk clerk gave our papers and credit cards that same quick but careful scrutiny and instantly became all gracious good will, handing me the room key with a flourish and berating the bellhops for some imagined inefficiency. In no time at all, we were in our luxurious suite, and a short time after that, I was asleep. And the next day, I fulfilled my promise to the girls. I walked the streets of Rio at Carnival dressed as a woman. Of course, it wasn’t at all as simple as that. Despite my acceptance of things in New York just the day before, I was naturally a bit hesitant about going out so totally in drag on the streets of a foreign city. I slept late, dawdled in bed a bit, blushingly showered under the amused eyes of Jasmin and Monika as they watched me fumblingly handling my strange new breasts and that triangular patch of hair between my legs where I was so used to seeing my cock. They helped me with a shower cap, then, when I was all dry, they clipped my wig back onto the curlers (which had been rolled tightly in my longish hair since yesterday) and applied some light makeup to my face, commenting that features as soft as mine didn’t really need it, and giggling maddeningly as I blushed. Today my underwear was of light yellow silk, matching bra and panties with a lacy white garter belt to hold up my light white silk stockings. Over this I wore a cool dress of white cotton,
sensible white shoes and a wide-brimmed straw hat. After all this, I was naturally hungry, so I insisted on ordering brunch from Room Service. It was as I was filling my coffee cup for the third time that I became uncomfortably aware of the eyes of the two women resting on my feminine face and figure. They seemed disappointed once more. Once again, there was the slightest hint of contempt in their slave-girl faces. I was dawdling and we all knew it! Firmly, I replaced my cup in the saucer. "Let’s get started," I said. "You girls are calling the shots now. Where to?" "The beach!" Jasmin said, delighted. "It’s just far enough away to give us a nice walk through the City!" Outside, the streets were a riot of dancing, drinking and happy celebration. I clung to the two girls as we made our way through the laughing throng, a little afraid of being separated from them and losing my way. Once again, I had to get hold of myself, remembering that I had plenty of money in my purse and could always get a taxi back to the hotel in case of trouble. I began to relax and concentrate less on my own strangely altered appearance and more on the gala sights around me. I was a little surprised to note that the crowds around us were all brightly but very decently dressed! There was none of the semi-nudity that I had heard so much about at this affair, and I asked Jasmin about it. "This is the Tourists part of town," she explained. "The part that they show on American television. The people here are mostly tourists, and naturally a bit more subdued than the natives. In fact, I’ve noticed the Security Police turning away a few topless young ladies. Once we get a bit further from the Hotel, down towards the beach, I think you’ll find things more interesting!" And we did indeed! It seemed that for every block we walked, the crowds around us lost an article of clothing. By the time we reached the beach area, the dark tanned men were wearing only the briefest of G-strings, and many of the women were completely naked! Well not completely. No matter how little else she wore, it seemed that every woman out there took pride in flashing some bit of adornment. It might be a fancy pair of sandals, or bright jewelry, or a pretty hat or scarf, flapping incongruously against dark nudity. "Well, what do you think?" Jasmin asked as we strolled among the merry making throngs. "It’s incredible," I said. "Well worth coming all this way for, quite aside from the... ah... natural beauty, there is that feeling of total abandon you told me about. As if the very air here were intoxicating!"
"Is that how you feel?" Monika asked, eyeing me closely, "Intoxicated?" "No," I admitted. "I’m afraid. I feel just like an awkward tourist. The three of us, in our dresses and purses and everything are such obvious sightseers that we stand out here like sore thumbs!" "Well," she smiled "If you’d like to look a bit more native," she patted her handbag, "I brought bathing suits, suntan oil and some other things, and we can get towels and sandals at any stand along here!" "Let’s do it!" Jasmin urged. "Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve swam in the Bay here. I can hear the water calling me!" "Well, I guess you two are in charge for now," I said sheepishly, "Lead on!" They both looked at me a bit strangely just then, but happily pranced over to a sales stand, and a few minutes later the three of us were doffing our clothes inside a luxurious private cabana. "I’ll keep the key with me," Jasmin smiled, clipping it onto a chain around her neck. Except for that chain and a pair of high- heeled sandals, she was completely nude, and the sight of her standing there, her dark skin almost hidden in the subdued light, was incredibly exciting. I felt my cock start to stiffen. "Ooooh!" I moaned softly "That hurts!" It felt like a hand was squeezing my balls! Suddenly I realized that it was the effect of my rapidly-growing cock expanding in the confined space behind the false pussy that completely covered my genitals. There just wasn’t rooms enough for everything back there, and as a result, my scrotum was being squeezed mercilessly by my own erection! I quickly calmed myself down and the girls giggled at my obvious discomfort "I guess there are some disadvantages to looking so feminine, eh, Master?" Monika teased. "Here, why don’t you help me with my Sun-Tan Oil?" Completely nude herself, she stretched out on the wide wooden bench in the middle of the room, her soft ivory skin positively radiating sexuality. Nude myself now, I hesitated; was this really the sort of thing that a Master should be doing for his Slave Girl? "Go ahead," Jasmin urged, "then I’ll do you!" That smiling command from the dark skinned Jasmin and Monika’s soft-white nudity stretched out before me swept away my doubts. Trembling with barely-controlled desire, I splashed the bottle of sun-tan oil into the palm of my hands and began running them over Monika’s erotic curves. "Mmmmm!" She was moaning softly herself now, but in quite a different way than I had! "That feels
wonderful! Oh! I’m getting so horny! What I wouldn’t give now for a nice hard cock, right here...". She pressed a finger lightly between her moist nether-lips, then looked mockingly up at me. "What a pity we don’t have a nice, big ready cock here now! It’s just us girls!" I almost whimpered in frustration, submissively laving her sensuous flesh, feeling my smooth legs quivering and my full, feminine breasts stiffening in arousal as my cock surged in painful uselessness once again beneath its female disguise. I could tell now what these two were up to. Beneath their submissive exteriors they were as predatory as women always are, and now that I had given them a chance to take temporary charge, they meant to make the most of it. I had a feeling I was going to really pay for that undeserved whipping I had meted out! "Maybe a pair of soft lips would be almost as good," Monika breathed, curling her arm around the back of my head, pulling my face down between her legs. Over come with giddy desire, I went willingly. Totally unashamed, I crawled up on the wide bench and knelt between Monika’s luscious thighs, tenderly, lovingly, paying oral homage to her womanhood. I sucked softly, flickered gently with my tongue, and was soon rewarded by her shuddering sigh of ecstasy. "Ohhh!", she breathed at last, "Oh Jasmin, she’s just fantastic! You have got to try this!" "And I mean to!" Jasmin had opened another bottle of suntan oil, different from the kind I had used on Monika, and to my surprise, was rubbing it all over her big bottom! This was a cream rather than an oil, and in the subdued light I couldn’t tell exactly what color it was. Monika was up now, laying me gently down onto my back as Jasmin approached. "I don’t need this cream myself," Jasmin smiled, "but I thought this might be an interesting way to spread it over your face!" In no time at all, she was astride me, her dark calves curling along my sides as her own brown bottom-globes settled down over my face and began sliding sensually back and forth. I felt the cream ooze into every pore of my face, ears and neck as Jasmin moved, and then I felt something else! Monika had put on a pair of rubber gloves and was gently rubbing the buttery cream over the rest of my body. I could feel her hands twisting seriously up my legs, her deft fingers exploring between my bottom-cheeks. Then up to my hips, tapping playfully at the furry cover that held my manhood prisoner. On, up over my tummy to my aching breasts, the nipples springing to life as she tweaked them until I moaned into Jasmin’s pussy. "That’s right, Girl," Jasmin’s voice sounded muffled from where I was, "Put those lips to work!" I obeyed, orally loving this dark-skinned goddess as
passionately as I had her sister-slave. And all the while, Monika’s deliciously cruel hands were oozing all over my feminized body, driving me crazy with desire. Until at last, Jasmin hunched forward, pushing herself down onto me as hard as I could stand. I thought for a moment I might suffocate, and then she had rolled off me and was smiling dreamily. "Mmmmm!" she sighed, "Monika was right! You are definitely Something Special, Honey! Now let’s get you turned over and finish buttering that luscious body of yours!" I was close to unconsciousness from the sexual exertion and the wild unreality of all this. If anyone had told me a week ago that today I would not only look like a woman but also make love like one, I wouldn’t have believed them! Yet this whole last hour had been a new, startlingly strange, thrill. I still ached with frustrated need, but at the same time, I was positively tingling with pleasure. In a daze, I let them turn me over and start in on my back, spreading the cream over the rest of me, removing my wig and oozing the dark gunk between my curlers, then, for the first time in over twenty-four hours, taking out the curlers and combing out my hair. I wondered vaguely what I looked like as Monika put a tiny string bikini on me, made of bright gold lame, and Jasmin strapped matching high-heeled sandals to my feet. At last, the two of them pulled me upright, put on bikinis and sandals themselves, and walked me to the door. "Now we’re ready to see Rio like real natives!", Monika cheered. I minced out into the sunlight, blinking. Something was different, wrong somehow. I looked at my arm. Then my eyes widened, I stood stock-still and stared down at the rest of me. I was black! It seemed too incredible to believe! But as I stared, gasping, down at myself, my eyes were met by the sight of jiggling, bouncing brown curves! Inside the minimal triangles of my bikini-top deep brown curvy breasts shined up at me. Below that, a flat brown tummy led down to another tiny gold triangle surrounded by ebony hips and legs. I turned, noting in dismay that my bikini bottoms were of the backless kind, with only a tiny string to cover my dorsal nudity, and saw my pert little ass gleaming up at me like a couple of dark medicine balls. In disbelief, I scampered over to a store window and looked at my unfamiliar reflection. Soft, feminine black features, surrounded by a mop of coarse, dark curls - so that’s why my hair had been in curlers so long! Why, they must have been planning this since... "Girls," I turned to them, blushing beneath my dark color at their laughing faces. "What is this? What have you done to me?" "Just what controlled her could pick out It’s certainly you said we could, Master!" Monika finally merriment long enough to answer. "You said we your disguise, and this is what we decided on! complete, isn’t it? Nobody’d recognize you now!"
"Oh, the look on your face!" Jasmin practically screamed with worth every stroke you gave us! We ought to call you Black Beauty!" "Very funny!" Standing there, feminized, scantily-clad, and now coffee colored, I put my hands helplessly on my hips in frustration and stamped my foot petulantly, which sent the girls into fresh paroxysms of laughter. "Now what?" "Oh, I don’t know," Monika was genuinely at a loss, and I could tell, with some relief, that the girls had really nothing further planned for me beyond this. "A little swim and some Lunch, perhaps, then we could lie out and work on our sun tans... hee-hee!... What do you think, Jasmin?" "Let me at that Ocean!" she smiled. "Come on, Girls!" And, incredible as it seems, the three of us went for a refreshing swim in the cold ocean water. I was secretly hoping that the salt water would wash some of the stain off me, but no such luck. Afterwards, I got some money from Jasmin and bought us lunch (tucking the change into the tiny front of my bikini bottoms), and a bottle of wine. The afternoon wore on, and we strolled down the beach, the few sips of wine I’d had relaxed me somewhat, and the two girls, who had polished off the rest of the bottle, were positively mellow. It was strange, how different I was from my normal appearance, yet how no one seemed to give me a second glance! Amid the anonymity of dark skin and fleshy feminine curves, I began to feel a bit more secure. "Enjoying yourselves, Girls?" I turned, startled at the sound of the familiar voice. It was Fekkim, strolling along the beach, just as we had been. He looked just as incongruous and repulsive as ever in an obviously expensive but ill-fitting white suit, with an attractive but rather hard-looking Negress on his right arm and a whacked-out looking Blonde on his left. "Fekkim!" I squeaked, totally embarrassed at being seen and recognized by someone I knew, even this pasty-faced little parasite. "What are you doing here?" "Recruiting, Mister Martell," he smiled as unctuously as ever, "And you?" His pig-eyes crinkled in pleasure as he eyed my amply displayed black curves, and I dropped my eyes self-consciously, tongue-tied with humiliation.
"Our Master graciously permitted us to costume him for the Carnival," Monika piped up. "He had no idea it would be so elaborate, of course, but like a true gentleman, he has lived up to his promise, despite the inconvenience." "How admirable!" The porcine expression on his flat-nosed face never changed. "One who keeps to a promise is rare indeed! A most valuable quality." He nodded obsequiously. "Good day to you then!" And he turned his back and waddled off between his two "recruits", his shiny leather shoes scuffing through the sand. It was about an hour later, very late afternoon now, when Jasmin got her idea. "I know!" she said "Let’s play Hide and Seek! We can use the beach as our playground and the Hotel as Home Base!" "What on earth do you mean?" I asked. "You know!" she urged "Hide and Seek! You Just hide your eyes and count, and then you have to find us before we sneak in to Home Base! We can have rewards for the winners and penalties for the losers and everything!" "But what’s to stop you from just going back to the Hotel while I’m counting?" I asked. "We’re out of money for one thing," Monika put in. "Before we can go back to the Hotel, we have to stop back at the Cabana and change. There’s no way we could do that before you could catch us unless we hid some place and made you come look for us!" "Then what’s to stop me from just going back to the Hotel?" "We have the keys to the Cabana, remember," Jasmin smiled, fingering the chain around her neck. "And I don’t think you have any money either. So we can’t get back to Home Base without stopping at the Cabana and you can’t get back without catching us! I think it sounds exciting!" "It does a little," I admitted. "But what if one of us gets into trouble? Or gets lost?" "We can always get in touch with each other through the Hotel," Monika suggested. "Okay," I gave in. "I’m game. Now what are the Prizes and Penalties? If I catch even one of you, I win!" "Fair enough," Jasmin said, "And if we manage to get back to the Hotel first... let’s see... I know; In our Suite at the Hotel, we have special bleach to remove your skin dye, solvents to take off that false pussy on your crotch, and an astringent to shrink your breasts back down. But if we get back first, we will have the Front Desk mail them back to that shop in New York, and you’ll have to stay just as you are until we get back there.
Agreed?" "Agreed," I said, "but when I win and get back to my old self, you two can expect some extra punishment for what you have put me through." I knew I was betting a lot, but I thought I knew of a way I could win this thing easily, and I could tell that my two slaves were quite impressed by what they thought of as my Sportsmanship and Daring. "When do I hide my eyes and start counting?" "Just step over here and there’ll be no need to count," Jasmin said, reaching into her Beach Bag. "I have something that will work much more effectively." So saying, she pulled out a length of fine and proceeded to tie it tightly to the back of We were standing near an old boat landing, and she tied the other end to a metal ring screwed post. black silk string my String Bikini! to my surprise, into a wooden
"There!" she said. "Now you can’t come after us until you get this thing untied!" I tugged at it and felt my skimpy bikini-bottoms pull outward. Damn! She was right! It might take me several minutes to undo those knots. But I still had an ace up my sleeve (well, actually, I had no sleeves in that scanty outfit, but you know what I mean) so I smiled and confidently said, "Go ahead. Do your worst. Just remember, it’ll be extra punishment for you both when I’m back in control." "Mmmmmm!" Monika purred excitedly "You promised?" "You can bet on it." I said. "You girls will pay and pay dearly for every embarrassment you’ve caused!" "Then I’ll just do this!" she tittered, stepping behind me. Suddenly I felt her hands on the back of my bikini-top. Before I knew what was happening, Monika had snatched it off and my big, bare, brown breasts were bouncing free! I squealed in shock and flung my hands up to cover the jiggling feminine globes as Monika danced away and stuck her tongue out at me. I started to run after her, felt the shocking "tug" at the back of my bikini bottoms and stopped right where I was! "Happy hunting, Black Beauty!" Jasmin laughed, and the two of them turned and sped off, lost to view in the crowd almost instantly. For a few minutes I just stood there, hugging my breasts in shock. I mean, there I was, on the beach at Rio, out in front of everyone; feminized, black and now bare-breasted, my skimpy bottoms tied to a post so that I could not move! As I stood there for a moment, dressed in only my high-heeled sandals and that bit of gold cloth, I felt a dizzying wave of humiliation sweep over me. How had I, a man of wealth and influence ever allowed his own two slaves to do this to him! Despite the warm afternoon sun, I
felt my knees quiver as I stood there, black ass hanging out, black arms crossed over my massive black breasts, a lock of my coarse black hair hanging down over a corner of one of my tearful brown eyes. But very gradually, I began to realize that things were not as bad as they had seemed. True, in any Civilized Country, mine would be an embarrassing position indeed. But I was in Rio, during carnival, where anything goes. As I stood there, I suddenly realized that except for a few appreciative glances and an occasional whistle, no one was paying me much attention at all! I looked around me. Everywhere, there were women as black as I, most of them wearing even less than I was. Bit by bit, the dream-like indifference of the crowd around me restored my confidence. True, I might be black, female and topless, but in this city, that seemed to be the height of fashion! After a tense eternity, I felt secure enough to lower my trembling arms from my rounded chest and set to work unknotting my bikini bottoms. This, though, was unusual enough that it drew some attention, and a lot of high-spirited men and women started to gather around to watch my antics as I tried to turn around and pick at the knots in the strong silk thread that secured my panties to the post. It was impossible! The string that ran from my swimsuit to the metal ring just wasn’t long enough to allow me to turn around and see what I was trying to untie. As I squirmed about, wiggling my bare tush this way and that to try to get at the knots, I heard lustful cat-calls and laughing suggestions in a language I couldn’t understand. I felt myself blushing furiously again under my darkened skin, my fingers growing thick and clumsy in my flustered frustration. Finally, there was just nothing for me to do except slither out of the skimpy things, raising each leg high, one at a time to step over the string, then crouch down naked in my sandals and bite at the string with my teeth! This was a rare show indeed for the appreciative onlookers, who whistled outrageously at my upraised legs and positively applauded my thrusting bottom as I bent down to bite at the string! But I had to have these! For one thing, despite the casual atmosphere, I was just too civilized and self-conscious to try to take a step without them! And for another, it was inside these bikini bottoms that I had tucked the change from our lunch... enough for a comfortable Cab ride back to the Hotel! So when I at last got the damn things loose, I jumped into them as fast as I could and hurried through the laughing, goosing crowd to the closest Taxi Stand. I jumping into the first cab available, and barked out the name of my Hotel. I knew that by now there was a chance that Jasmin and Monika could have gotten their clothes - and mine! from the Cabana and I wanted to be sure and beat them back to Home Base. The idea of being stuck this way for any longer at all
was definitely frightening now, but I knew that if I hurried I could probably beat them. Minutes later we pulled up in front of the familiar entrance way and I jumped out, tossing my few bills to the driver, and made for the door, hugging my breasts. This was the "dressed" part of town, I recalled, and I certainly didn’t want to be seen here like this! But as I raced through the doorway, a strong pair of arms suddenly reached out and encircled me from behind, pulling me back! I felt thick fingers clasp my breasts and squeeze painfully. It was the security man at the door, keeping me out! "Eeeek!" I squealed, wriggling in his lascivious grasp, "Let me go! I’ve got to get in!" He barked something that sounded like "Noya Hoya Poya Doya!" to my uncomprehending ears and spun me about, pushing me back outside. Panicking, I ran back at the door, only to be pushed out again. "But I’ve got to get in!" I pleaded, "I can’t stay out here like this!" Already a well-dressed and disapproving crowd was starting to gather. "Doesn’t anyone here speak English?" "I do," A Latin-looking gentleman in a crisp gray suit said gallantly "May I help you?" "Tell him I’m a guest here!" I squeaked. "Make him let me in!" A bit taken aback by my peremptory tone, the gentleman rattled something to the Doorman who firmly rattled something back and made a sweeping circular gesture with his hands. The gentleman turned back to me. "He insists he does not recognize you," he explained. "He believes you are a ‘puta’, a prostitute, trying entry into a respectable Hotel. He also believes you to be drunk. He says if you want in, try the Back Entrance, around the block." I tried to protest that there was no way I could parade around the block dressed - or undressed - like this! But the frosty look of my interpreter and the implacable expression on the Doorman’s face convinced me it was useless. Miserably, I hugged my quivering breasts and scampered through the crowd, around the block. But the Guard at the Back Entrance was, if anything, tougher and less polite than his front-door counterpart; couldn’t get in here, either! And when I finally conveyed to him that I had to talk to someone inside, he pointed me to a pay phone down the block! Blushing furiously with embarrassment and anger, I trotted
down to the tree-lined sidewalk and over to the phone booth. There was another hotel just across the narrow street here, and crowds of tourists were milling about. I could feel hot, curious eyes all over me as I squeezed up to the shiny metal and plastic telephone and punched the button for the Operator. Dreading to meet anyone’s eyes, I looked upwards at the balconies just above the lush nut trees, wishing desperately that I was inside any of those rooms. At last the Operator consented to connect me with the Hotel and the Front Desk grudgingly put me through to my room. "Hello?" It was the welcome sound of Monika’s voice. "Monika!" I whispered urgently. "It’s me! Are you both there?" "We sure are, Black Beauty!" I heard Jasmin giggle in the background as Monika spoke. "We just finished shipping off all that stuff we told you about. We also packed up most of your male clothes, since you won’t be needing them down here any longer! Where are you?" "I’m just outside the back entrance." I was still whispering, as if that would somehow make me less noticeable to the gawking sightseers milling about in the gathering dusk "You’ve got to help me! They won’t let me in the Hotel!" "Why not, love? Wait a minute are you still topless?" "Yes!" I admitted shamefully. "And you made it all the way over to this part of town? Like that? Jasmin, did you hear that? Our Black Beauty is... why, that’s just outside our balcony! You say you’re at the phone down there?" "YES!" I was almost whimpering in embarrassment. "You’ve got to bring me down some clothes! Or tell them to let me in!" Suddenly I heard a voice from up above. "Yoo-hoo!" I looked desperately upwards and saw Jasmin, leaning out of our fifth-floor balcony, just above the tree-tops. "You’re getting cold down there, Gorgeous?" she called. "0h!!, Oh, Monika!" I pleaded into the phone. "Make her throw me down a coat! Come down and get me out of this! I’ll do whatever you say, only help me!" "Okay, Master," she emphasized the word sarcastically. "We’ll be down in a few minutes. Meanwhile, Heads Up!" I looked up again Jasmin was waving my expensive tailor-made London Fog Trench coat devilishly.
"You want this, Beautiful?" she called. "Jasmin! Please!" I yelled, flushing as my shouts drew even more eyes to my plight. "Catch!" She flung the coat wide, to avoid the trees below. But alas! She threw it too hard! Caught in an updraft, it sailed across the narrow street and caught on one of the balconies of the Hotel over there, dangling just above one of the ornamental nut trees. Without even thinking, I dashed across the street and over to that tree. I had to get that coat! People were pointing and laughing as I jumped at one of the lower branches and tried to scramble up, my breasts heaving as my long, smooth black legs flashed up and down. My sandals slipped and slid on the smooth bark and I kicked them off. "Get a picture of this!" I heard someone call, as I scrambled up into the thick lower branches, my coarse curly hair tangling in the fragile limbs. "Look at her go!" There were more people stopping in the street now and coming out onto their Hotel Balconies to see what was happening. As I pulled myself quickly upwards, I felt something tug at my bikini bottoms. But I was too out-of-balance to stop. I swung up to the branch above, and suddenly heard a chilling "rip!" and felt a cool "swish!" as my bottoms were torn off and blown away on the breeze. I was naked! Sobbing with embarrassment now, I forced myself to climb higher. "Look at the Monkey!" The mocking shouts of the (mostly American) tourists burned in my ear as, gasping and sweaty, I clambered through the branches I was only a few feet away from the precious garment when I felt a limb snap beneath me Scissoring my arms wildly, I managed to grab a branch and get my bare feet back under me, but I was further away than ever. Then the sliding door on the patio above me opened and a dark- haired, olive skinned woman came out. She raised a coolly eyebrow at seeing my coat on her balcony, then looked down at me . "The coat! Toss it down to me!" I pleaded "The coat!" She picked it up, studied the expensive fabric, and looked quizzically down at me once more. "Icy?" she asked "Moi?" "Yes!" I nodded wildly "The coat! Throw it!" She smiled coolly and folded it up in her arms.
"Merci!" And she turned and disappeared back into her room, closing the door firmly. Suddenly I felt something slap against my naked ass. Something else hit the side of my head! I looked down. There, on the street about a dozen feet below me, a crowd of rowdy drunks, men and women, had gathered and they were pelting me with the prickly nuts that grew on these trees! "Monkey!" They called "Ooook-ook! Dance, Monkey!" The evening street lights and the ornamental spotlights at the base of the trees came on now, illuminating my plight even further. Stuck up a tree! Black, feminized, and bare-ass naked! Being gawked at by crowds of picture-taking tourists, admiring my big brown tits and my jiggling black ass. I just froze there in shame under the onslaught of prickly nuts and flashing cameras, my ears ringing with the merciless teasing and mocking cat-calls of the crowd below. They were laughing in cruel, drunken merriment at the sight of this dirty, naked black Monkey-Woman, perched in a tree. But she was me, Charles Hartell, a man of wealth! A Slave Owner! Reduced to this by two of his own Slaves! I was eventually rescued from all that, but what happened to me next was even worse!
It was as I was perched in that tree, totally nude and completely feminized, with my smooth skin dyed black, a false pussy covering my male crotch and very real breasts jiggling on my chest, being pelted and teased by the crowd, that help arrived - I thought! A big shiny Police Van slowly nosed its way through the crowd, and a couple of politely smiling, but very efficient looking uniformed Security Guards got out. They looked up at the cause of all this ruckus - me! - and spoke a few words to the crowds, which wandered off. Then the bigger of them smiled up at me and gestured to me to come down, making little kissing noises with his mouth. The way you’d summon a pet! Gradually, I forced myself to overcome my embarrassed shyness enough to move again. Still trying to clutch my arms over my breasts and keep a hand over my vulva (clearly impossible, but I tried it anyway!), I lowered myself to their waiting arms. And found myself almost immediately shoved into the back of the waiting Police Van! "NOOO!" I screamed, trying to twist free before the doors
closed behind me. But it was too late. I looked around me in the harsh white interior of the Paddy Wagon and saw that I was surrounded by a bevy of tough-looking, gaudily-dressed whores! Some of them looked as if they’d been fighting - with the Police or each other - and all of them seemed quite drunk. A few of them looked at me, and their lips curled in contempt at my nakedness. One overweight woman with a wicked scar on her cheek nudged a companion, pointed to me, and they exchanged a few words. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I could tell from their expressions that they figured any whore too dumb to even hang onto her own clothing must be at the very bottom of the barrel. I just crouched there (there were no seats) quivering in my nudity, telling myself that we would get to a Police Station before long and I would be able to explain my situation to someone who spoke English or at least make a phone call to Monika and Jasmin at the Hotel. But it was not to be. I felt the Van make a sharp turn and speed up. Where were we headed? The crowd noises around us began to grow louder. We stopped, and I felt the Van rock as the two Security Guards up front jumped out. Then, after an anxious eternity, the back door opened once more and it seemed like at least another thirty screaming, drunken, smelly black hookers were thrown, shoved, and finally packed into the tiny back compartment of the Wagon. It was awful! I never even had time to stand up, and soon found myself squeezed between two overweight, bikini-clad, ebony-skinned whores, standing back to back, my head almost buried between two pairs of massive buttocks, my arms tangled in their legs as the whole load of us tried drunkenly to keep from falling all over each other! I wondered briefly how the Rio Police ever managed to keep up with all the paperwork and logistics that would have to go with arresting a crowd like this at the height of Carnival. Then I found out. The Van stopped in the middle of a run-down part of town, the part of Rio that tourists never visit and Cameras never go. In the middle of an unpaved, muddy street, surrounded by ramshackle hovels, the doors were opened and the whole lot of us manhandled outside. As we spilled out onto the street, I turned and tried to call to the Guards to come back! To help me! But the Van sped off into the night, leaving me lost, feminized and naked in the mud, my cries unheeded. Unheeded, that is, by all but a couple. Two of the whores, their disheveled clothes slightly better-looking than the rest, looked at me curiously as I called desperately after the departing Police. They sauntered over. "Yanqui?" One of them asked. "Yes!" I bubbled, panic-stricken. "Help me! I’ll pay you! Get me back to the Hotel! Get me
some..." "You come," the other one interrupted. And she took me by the arm and began leading me towards a side street. "But that’s not the way!" I protested. "I need to get back to the Hotel..." "You come!" she repeated, pulling me more forcefully. "Maria help you!" Her companion grabbed my other arm now, and both of them began hustling me quickly down the darkened streets. There was no electricity here, and I had no idea where we were or where we were going as my two tough-looking escorts pulled me down winding alleys, past tumble-down buildings, over broken, muddy pavement, and finally to a largish-looking house that seemed slightly less decrepit than its immediate neighbors. There, they spoke a few words to a swarthy lump of a man at the door who directed us inside and upstairs (my dirty feet leaving little bare footprints on scrubbed hardwood floors) to an office that would have seemed terribly shabby anywhere else, but probably passed for Luxury around here. In the candle-light, I could see an olive-skinned woman with oily black hair seated at a once-elegant battered old desk, waxed and polished now until it seemed to positively glow in the dimly lit room. The woman was wearing a loud, silken dress and her arms were covered with dangling bracelets. Her strong, youthful face had been made up to incredible hardness and huge pendant earrings dangled gaily on each side of her head. As she spoke to the girls and I inhaled the scent of cheap perfume and women, it occurred to me that Madame’s look just alike all over the world. The girls pointed to me and rattled off something to her, which she immediately answered without even seeming to glance my way. They shoved me forward, gibbering more insistently, and one of them knocked my crossed arms away from my quivering chest and cupped her hands under my breasts, lifting them up for inspection. "Stop that!" I squealed, writhing as she tightened her grip painfully. "Let me go!" With an incredibly smooth motion, her partner suddenly twisted my right arm behind me and at the same time, it seemed, grabbed the big toe of my left foot and jerked it up to my ass! Before I knew what was happening, I was hopping around on one leg, trying desperately not to fall as I felt my arm being wrenched painfully around in its socket. "Oh!" I wept freely now, my voice high and girlish. "Ah! Please! It hurts! Let me go! I’ll pay you! I will! Thousands! Oh, why did I ever let Fekkim get me into this?" The girl behind me held on just as tightly as ever, but now Maria, the young, tough-looking Madame, looked up with mild interest. "Fekkim?" she asked, her voice deep, lazy, and heavily accented "Fekkim Ammatuk? You know him?"
"Yes!" I prattled, grasping at any straw. "I’m a friend of his! A customer! He brought me to Rio! In his own jet! I have lots of money! I’m staying downtown and if you’ll just give me a ride down there and some clothes, I will..." "Silence!" she hissed, and I closed my mouth at once. She looked at me more closely now. "You really Yanqui?" "Yes!" "Really, friend Fekkim?" "Yes! Call him! He’ll tell you..." A hand smacked across my face, stunning me into silence. I blinked my teary eyes in ear-ringing misery, and felt the awful humiliation of my dirty nakedness. Standing there on one foot, black, big-breasted and feminized among these tough harlots, it suddenly occurred to me that the whore at my side had intuitively known that my jabbering was getting on her boss nerves and had slapped me almost as an automatic gesture. And the one behind me seemed to be holding me so easily! I realized now that these women were really tough! They might beat, disfigure, or even kill me without a second’s hesitation! Frightened more than ever now, I stood there quietly shivering as Maria laid down the law. "Okay," she said "Maybe you friend Fekkim, maybe you lying whore. I find Fekkim and find out. That take three days... maybe four. Till he get here, you work for me. You don’t turn no trick, you don’t blow no man, but you do like I say. Work, clean, carry. You don’t run, you don’t get hurt. I make everybody now here see you mine, they don’t bother you." She got up now and came close to me, putting her young, garishly painted face up to my own tear stained, soft black features. "But you cross me, you try to run, and everybody round here see you die real slow! Savvy?" I nodded. ------------------------It was three days later, midmorning, and I had been released from my chicken-wire cage behind Maria’s bordello to start my chores. Cila, the stronger of the two prostitutes who had first brought me here, started my day as always, by dousing me with a cold bucket of water, supposedly to clean off the filthy straw that was my only cover. I crawled quickly out and crouched obediently on all fours while she fastened the red leather collar to my neck that was the signal to everyone in the neighborhood; Maria’s Property - Don’t Touch! Aside from the collar, I was completely naked. But my skin
was as dark, my breasts as full, my features as feminine as ever, and the false pussy still clung as tightly as ever over my crotch. Just what had those girls done to me? Why wasn’t my beard growing back? It almost seemed as if my breasts were getting bigger, my ass rounder, each day! As I scampered miserably into the House to begin my rounds, I wondered again whether Monika and Jasmin had planned all this... and how they could have! But my "rounds" awaited. Like all the other houses in this neighborhood, Maria’s had no indoor plumbing. But unlike all the others, she did something about it. Each morning, I had to go into each room and collect the Chamber Pots, emptying them into two large buckets downstairs. Once this was done, Cila would outfit me for my journey. Some outfit! It was designed to show everyone in the neighborhood how desirable Maria’s girls were and what a tight rein she kept on them! First, as I stood outside, a six-foot wooden pole was run through a ring on the back of my collar and my wrists were bound to rings about a foot from each end. Thus, I had to keep my arms out, slightly beat, supporting the weight of the pole in my hands or on the back of my neck. Next, a strong leather belt was locked around my waist, bright red, like my collar. But it wasn’t for ornamentation, it was for humiliation! A leather cord was strung from the ring at the back of my collar down to the back of the belt and tied there, forcing me to keep my back slightly arched, my breasts embarrassingly outthrust. Then my ankles were tethered about two feet apart, and another cord was tied from the end of my belt to the middle of this tether, forcing me to keep my knees slightly bent and walk on the balls of my feet just to keep my balance! So there I was, black, feminized and completely nude, arms out, breasts and buttocks flaunted, knees and elbows bent, and in this state, I was forced to walk half a mile down the muddy public street with a bucket of human waste hanging from each end of my pole! After first showing me this way, Cila had made me take this walk by myself. It was awful! As if the smell of my shameful burden wasn’t bad enough, my contorted, butt-thrusting posture called humiliating attention to me with every step! Men lounging in doorways whistled and laughed, women spat scornfully in my path, and little children held their noses and shrieked noisy abuse as I passed, jiggling and mincing down the street to a smallish farm owned by Maria and managed by some relative of hers. There, my smelly burden would be dumped and replaced by two buckets of water drawn up from the well by a donkey pulling a turnstile. The two buckets would be attached to my shoulder pole and I would have to make that shameful journey back up the street to Maria’s.
Today, however, something was different. The animal that normally drew water from the well was sick, and the old man who ran the farm had taken it to some doctor, leaving the farm in charge of his grandchildren, who were sullenly tugging at the turnstile, rotating the conveyor belt that pulled up small scoops of water from the well and dumped them into a sluice. An older child directed me to set down the smelly buckets with which I’d arrived and yelled to the smaller boy pulling the turnstile to pull faster. The smaller boy yelled something back and a desultory argument ensued. Then the smaller boy pointed at me and yelled something else! The older boy looked at me contemplatively and I shrank inside, wishing I could cover myself, run, hide, anything to avoid what I knew was coming! But there was no escape for me. A few minutes later, I was tethered to the turnstile, trudging miserably naked around in a circle, my elbows now bound to the pole that turned the conveyor belt. And worst of all, that bratty little half-caste boy was following me around with a switch, flicking it at my thighs and buttocks whenever I didn’t go fast enough to suit him! My bare breasts undulated lewdly with every step, and, with the cruelty typical of children, the little boy tied a leather cord into my hair in the back and fastened it to the pole I was pulling, forcing me to arch my neck and look upwards, a posture that emphasized my sexy vulnerability even more! A small crowd of idlers gathered round to take in the spectacle of this sluttish female animal acting as beast of burden at the direction of a small boy. They were ogling me! The boy flicked his switch at the soles of my feet to make me prance for them, my perspiring black limbs flashing in the sunlight as I strutted my female charms for everyone to see. And it was like this that Fekkim found me! I heard the crowd quiet down, smelled Maria’s cheap perfume, and sensed, rather than heard, the approach of the expensively dressed, pudgy, dirty skinned man who now suddenly seemed to tower above me. "Mister Martell!" he beamed, "How delightful to see you once more!" I looked up at him in mute shame. After all I’d been through these last few days, I didn’t think anything could ever embarrass me again, but the look of that leering, repulsive little toad grinning down at me sent waves of fresh humiliation running up and down my spine. "Maria tells me you wished to see me," he said softly. "Is there some business you wish to discuss? Some service you would
buy from me?" "Oh, Fekkim," I pleaded, "Get me out of here! Please help me!" "You wish me to help you?" His eyes shone with a sadistic inner satisfaction as he spoke. "What could I, a... how did you describe me? Ah yes... ‘a fat, smelly little bag of slime’ ever do for a rich and important men like you, Mister Martell?" "Please", I begged, "You can’t leave me here like this! I’ll pay you, only help me, please!" "But you seem to have so very little to pay me with...", he ran a dainty finger up my stomach, to the bottom of my breast, tracing a slow circle around my nipples as he spoke. "Mister Edgars, our mutual friend, has no intention of returning your property to you, and you surely do not seem to be carrying much with you...! And it would surely be beneath your dignity to accept a favor from... how did you put it? ‘an overstuffed little greasy- face’ like myself! So what are you prepared to pay, Mister Martell?" "Anything!" I sobbed. "I’ll pay anything, do anything, Just don’t leave me here! I’ll die!" "Yes you would," he mused happily. "And it would be a most prolonged and unpleasant death! But I have a use for you, Mister Martell! And I shall spare you from that death in exchange for a small consideration!" An hour later, I was back in Maria’s shabby office, wearing one of her bright silk print dresses, loud earrings and a pair of flashy red high heels. Fekkim was there as well, and crammed in with us were two men whom he introduced to me as prominent Brazilian attorneys, and a third man from the American Consulate! "Now you understand... ah... Mister Martell," The man from the consulate was saying, "That this contract legally binds you to Fekkim’s services for two full years. It puts all your property in trust, which only Fekkim can release to you at the end of that time, if he, ah... deems your services as satisfactory. And it specifies that any legal challenge to this document must be tried in the courts of Fekkim’s country, where slavery is still quite legal, and can be used as a punishment. And I am here to certify that you, as an American Citizen, are voluntarily entering..." "Oh, Fekkim," He suddenly broke off, whining, "Are you sure there’ll be no repercussions from this?" "Of course not," he smiled easily, casting a gentle warning glance my way. "Mister Martell is entering my service in this state quite voluntarily, and in exchange for your help, I shall see to it that no one need ever know of your little eccentricities. Now
sign!" And we did! -------------------------Our collars were roped together in a line and as we paraded out across the tarmac to the waiting airplane, a line of nude, bound women. I glanced disconsolately at the hard-eyed black woman in front of me and the petite, hung-over looking blonde behind me. Like me, their ankles were hobbled and wrists bound behind their backs. We were in the middle of a line of about twenty women, all attractive, all bound, all slaves to Fekkim. "Step lively, Girls!" Standing to one side of the lead girl, Monika flicked her riding crop. "We picked this deserted part of the Airport to save you some embarrassment, but it means walking about a mile out to the plane!" "Move on, there!" Jasmin’s voice came from the back of the line, and her own riding crop thwacked against a bare thigh, sending shivers down my back. "Don’t hold up the line! This is our first day on the job as Slave Drivers and we mean to impress the Boss! Move it!" Her whip sounded again and we broke into a jiggling trot, twenty naked women, hustling their buns to keep from getting a beating. I trotted with the rest, feeling the tug of my hampered ankles, the pull at my wrists bound behind me as my bare breasts swung wildly from side to side in front. Between my smooth, black legs, I could feel my captive cock beneath the false pussy that both disguised and imprisoned the only proof I had left of my real identity. "Faster, you!" I felt an explosion of hot pain on my left bottom-cheek and turned my tear stained face to see Jasmin, smiling wickedly at me. I already knew not to expect any help from her or Monika... Fekkim had made that quite clear to me when he reintroduced us, but I was hurt and shocked by this wanton bit of cruelty from a woman who had been my lover back when I had been a man! "Hurry them up, Jasmin," Monika called from the head of the line. "It doesn’t do to allow a Slave to get lazy and you can’t ever give them a chance to take advantage of you!" We reached the plane and Monika double-checked us as we climbed up the portable stairway. Jasmin walked beside me up the steps. "Well, Darling," she teased, "How did you like Rio at Carnival? Wasn’t it everything I said it would be?" "One thing’s sure," Monika laughed, "It’s been an experience she’ll never forget!"
"Move on now, Girls." Jasmin prodded me with her whip and I jumped forward, hearing her laughter behind me ringing in my ears as I felt her eyes on my bare black, feminine bottom. "We’ll start your training on the flight, since these trans-atlantic hops can take a few hours." "Jump now! You’ve got a lot to learn! Remember, your new owners will expect a lot out of Fekkim’s Girls!"
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