My Mistress Sold Me as Her Submissive Transvestite

It wasn’t our first encounter. Renata and I had shared the same thing for months: a taste for women’s clothing, for dressing and behaving like women within the walls of her apartment. The difference between us was clear. I tended toward being a submissive, passive female; she was active, dominant, in control of every decision made in there.

That time the session had started the night before and hadn’t stopped. Renata had already done everything to feminize me, to humiliate and dominate me, and I’d been aroused for hours, hot, unable to think about anything else. Since I crossed her door, I’d gone through several dresses, skirts, stockings, shirts, bras, and a handful of uniforms she chose according to her mood.

She had punished me in a thousand ways. Spankings until my skin burned, my wrists tied up, toys going in and out of my little ass while she watched me with that half-smile. Once she masturbated over me and let her pleasure fall on my lips and my face like an obedient little faggot. That dawn she had made me sleep in a child’s pajama, white cotton panties, and a sanitary pad, as if I were a girl who still hadn’t learned to control herself.

During the day she used me as her doll. I scrubbed every bathroom in the apartment with a different toy inside me, cooked dressed as a maid, and tidied the kitchen disguised as a lady. She dressed me as a princess and, when I stained the dress, she punished me by putting me in peasant clothes. More than once she ordered me to dress like a street whore, just to make me lower my eyes.

—Look at you —she said—. This is what you are.

We’d watched porn together and gone into chat rooms where she taught me to flirt like a transvestite, how to move, how to write to turn on strangers. She took photos and videos of me that she shared with others, repeating that I was a woman made to please the men who wanted to look at my body.

After eating, I tidied the kitchen in my underwear, just as she’d ordered. When I finished, her voice came from the bedroom.

—Put on the princess dress. Last night’s one.

I obeyed. I went into the room and saw her in front of the computer, back in one of those chat rooms. I undressed and got dressed again as fast as I could, because I know Renata doesn’t like to wait. I fixed my makeup, slipped into the same high heels, the garter stockings, a pair of white silk-and-lace panties with a matching bra. Over that came the petticoats, and finally the pink dress she wanted to see on me.

—Come —she said without turning around—. Sit on the sofa.

I sat down. She took a photo of me, wrote a couple more lines, and stood up. She went to the bedroom and came back with a bag. I knew what was inside: the ropes. But this time she brought something new, a pink collar with a chain, the kind you put on a little dog. Just seeing it was enough to send heat all over my body.

—Kneel on the sofa. Turn your back to me. Lift that little tail and spread your legs.

I did what she asked. She tied my hands and legs with care and firmness at the same time, leaving me immobilized, exposed. Then she lifted my skirt and photographed me again, with special attention to the white panties I had chosen. She put the collar around my neck, clipped on the leash, and shoved a gag into my mouth.

I could no longer move. I could no longer speak. I could only wait for whatever she decided.

—You’re a pretty submissive —she said, crouching beside my ear—. A feminized transvestite, mine. And I know how much you enjoy having something hard and thick inside you.

She paused. She stroked my back over the dress.

—For a long time I’ve fantasized about prostituting you. About selling you to a man and watching while he uses you. Watching him open you up and leave you available, like the cheap whore you really want to be deep down.

I looked over my shoulder, astonished, but also more aroused than ever. I couldn’t believe what she was telling me and, at the same time, I couldn’t deny what I felt. I was going to be prostituted and there was no way to avoid it: I was tied up in her apartment, dressed as a princess, completely under her control.

—Since I know it’s a surprise and I don’t want you to resist —she added—, I put something in the gag. By now you should already be feeling a little dizzy. And getting hotter and hotter.

She was right. A thick warmth ran through my body, mixed with anticipation.

—You’re my submissive. My bitch. And bitches obey. Are you going to let them treat you like what you are?

I nodded. A slow yes, without hesitation.

Renata moved behind me, lifted my dress, and without taking down my panties, she lubed me up. Just as she was finishing, someone knocked at the door.

***

She adjusted my panties, pulled down my dress, and went to answer. I stayed motionless, tied up, with my heart pounding against my chest and heat rising between my legs. I could hear them talking at the entrance. She described me to him with words that made me burn with shame and desire at the same time: a female in heat, a bitch who needed her little ass filled.

The two of them stood in front of me. Renata took the leash from my collar while the man pulled money from his pocket. I don’t know if it was coincidence or calculation, but I felt she wanted me to see the transaction. To see how she was negotiating my body, so I’d feel even more humiliated, more feminized.

He only wanted to fuck me. She was going to film. Renata repeated the agreed price and the man handed over the bills without hesitation. He took the leash from her hands and came closer. He unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his cock right in front of my face: big, thick, already hard. He showed it to me for a second, as if he wanted me to understand what was coming, and then he positioned himself behind me.

He lifted my dress. When he saw the wet panties, he slapped my ass.

—Dirty little bitch —he said—. Dirty whore.

He pulled my panties down just enough and thrust in all at once. I screamed against the gag, writhed from the pain, felt like I was splitting in two. He didn’t care. He started fucking me like a female, his hard, hot cock forcing its way inside me, and while he did, he kept repeating what I was.

—A whore. A bitch. My bitch tonight.

He tugged on the leash so I’d lift my little tail higher, so he’d have me completely at his disposal. The pain faded and desire took its place. I was hot, too hot. I loved being penetrated, feeling myself split in two, knowing Renata was recording everything.

She filmed us, took photos, and the man got hotter with every click. He liked that she watched, that she documented how he used me. He started moving harder, faster, and at some point Renata took the gag off to let me moan. Grateful, I moaned louder, in the most feminine way I could, like the female in heat he wanted to hear.

My moans drove him wild. He shoved in harder, deeper, until I felt him harden even more. He spilled everything inside me in several hot spurts, and I felt full, marked, used to the core. He collapsed against my back for a moment. Then he straightened up, adjusted his pants, and left the apartment, not before asking Renata for a copy of the video.

***

I stayed still, still aroused, feeling the heat run down and soak the panties that were still halfway down. Renata finished taking a few photos of me like that, open and dripping. Then she put a plug in me.

—I don’t want it to come out yet —she said, pulling my panties back up.

She began untying the ropes from my hands and legs.

—Stay as you are. Don’t move.

I obeyed, quiet and submissive. When she had freed me completely, she took the collar leash.

—Now you’re going to the bedroom. On all fours. Like the bitch you are.

I walked after her on my hands and knees over the rug, my dress dragging behind me. In the room she ordered me onto the bed. While I did, she opened a drawer and took out a pair of handcuffs. She put them on me and tied my hands with the leash, leaving them on my chest. Then she pushed me back onto the mattress.

She went for some toys and lube, and started undressing. When she only had her panties left, she climbed onto the bed and knelt with her legs spread, on either side of my head, right over my face.

—Stick out your tongue. Lick me through the fabric.

I licked, aroused, feeling with my tongue and lips how she hardened beneath that silk. She slid her hand between my legs, lifted my dress, and reached the plug. She moved it for a while, in and out, while she pulled down my panties and caressed me until I was trembling. Then she took it out, wiped it on her own fabric, and put it in my mouth, now tasting what the man had left in me. Then she started penetrating me with a vibrator, slowly, and I moaned like a hot female.

She stayed like that for a while, playing with me, until she lay down beside me. She pulled off my dirty, wet panties and shoved them into my mouth to silence my moans. She turned off the toy and came in herself, all of me wet, hot, still full. She fucked me dirty, open, without mercy, repeating in my ear how whorish and bitchy I was.

—You’re a submissive transvestite —she said—. A female in heat. My female.

She pushed harder and faster until I felt her cum inside me, filling me again. When she was done, she freed my hands. She handed me a vibrator.

—Take the panties out of your mouth and put them back on. I want to see you masturbate in front of me. I want to see you get wet like a woman.

I put the panties back on. I turned on the toy, slid it into my little ass, and started touching myself like that, over the fabric, while she watched me with satisfaction. I felt feminized, humiliated, completely exposed, and all of that made me hotter, more submissive. I fingered myself, pushing that vibrator in and out like a female, until I got wet, until I came over the panties under her gaze.

Afterward, still trembling, I stayed quiet beside her. Thinking that night I had stopped being only hers. And that, deep down, that was exactly what I had wanted.