Then

Crystal lived for the weekends. When Colin finished work each day and took the number ten bus home he would begin transforming in his mind. By the time he arrived home he was already Crystal and he would shuck out of his cheap suit and transform into her, trying different makeup techniques and toying with her wig collection to see which wig complimented her growing wardrobe.

Crystal had stopped buying anything that she thought fitted her on a whim, only to be disappointed when she got the garment home and tried it on and found it was tatty, ill-fitting or did not suit her. Under the tutelage of Mrs Cashmore she selected only those garments that fitted her properly and were befitting.

Crystal was becoming more confident. She was more than happy to walk to and from the Black Sheep public house on Friday and Saturday nights. At first she would only walk in the company of Wendy or Brittany whom she would meet on the corner of her street but after a while she acquired the intestinal fortitude to make the walk on her own.

On Wednesdays after work she would dress hastily at home and make the ten minute walk to the Oxfam Emporium on Oldham Street where she would meet Mrs Cashmore who always had a fresh pot tea ready and sometimes a garment or two to sell to Crystal. Sometimes there was nothing suitable in the store and they would just natter and drink tea.

Mrs Cashmore was very interested in Crystal's progress. Crystal had perfected her walk, her speech and mannerisms and was virtually unclockable. Although Crystal had not yet developed an interest in men sexually, like most of her kind she did like to be admired and appreciated. Mrs Cashmore imparted on her little secrets, such as to always to pay attention to the man talking to her even if he was boring. If she found a man she particularly liked she could use discrete gestures to attract him: lean forward when talking, ‘accidentally’ touch his knee or elbow, blink a little, play with her hair, subtly lick her lips; all tricks of the trade, as Maureen Cashmore described them.

Crystal would practice the tricks at home and then try them out at the pub on the Admirers that pursued her and Wendy and Brittany.

The three girls made a game of it, seeing who could attract the most men in one night or they’d pick out a handsome man and see who could win him over. If the man chose Brittany or Wendy he would most likely be rewarded carnally. Brittany would probably take him home for the evening and Wendy would take him down the canal. If the man chose Crystal he would be disappointed. He might get to feel her up a little on the dance floor and maybe even get in a kiss or two but Crystal was unresponsive to sexual advances, hence the standing bet amongst the Admirers to see who would be the first to get into her knickers.

The men who were disappointed when Crystal eschewed their carnal advances easily found a willing substitute amongst the gaggle of transvestites who colonised the Black Sheep and other tranny-friendly venues near Canal Street so Crystal didn’t really think of herself as being a prick teaser; she made it very clear that she had no interest in sexual congress.

All of this was witnessed by the handsome mid-thirties man who sat brooding on a stool in a corner of the lounge bar at the Black Sheep well away from the other patrons where he could observe the passing parade and the interactions of the boisterous masses. On Fridays he sat sullenly and observed the Admirers fawn over the pretty and not-so-pretty transvestites. He abhorred the way the Admirers grovelled and toadied up to the crossdressers. Buying them drinks, pawing at them, fumbling at their legs under the table, squeezing their arses on the dance floor.

On Saturdays when it was drag queen bingo he would purchase a single bingo card and leave it unmarked. The bingo numbers were called out by three overly feminised and sexualised drag queens. The game merged bingo into a live drag cabaret performance with the drag queens treating the punters to a risqué comedy show whilst involving them in the bingo game.

The man did not participate at all and sat sullenly at the bar during the bingo and the sing-along that followed.

The man had collar-length sandy hair which he continually flicked out of his deep blue eyes. He was tall and his body was trim and muscular. Unlike most Mancunians he was tanned. He exercised daily and ran along the canal and visited a tanning salon once a week to keep himself bronzed and went to Spain twice a year to lie on the beach.

He was handsome and he knew it but he had little interest in the type of women that were attracted to him. All his attention was focused on one particular woman… only she wasn’t really a woman. Her name was Crystal Divine.

The man owned a successful antiques store on the high street, dealing in high-end merchandise but he also sold good quality second-hand furniture to keep the profit ticking over. He was a picker and would frequent rummage sales searching for suitable castoffs and he also scoured the many charity shops scattered throughout Manchester.

It was there that he found the materials and furnishings to renovate his cellar. At first the idea of keeping a specially selected girl captive in such a place was just a fancy; a daydream, a fantasy but when he saw Crystal he began to plan his cunning scheme.

The man had always been an Admirer of feminine transvestites; the more passable the more he found them attractive. There was something about the way they paid attention to every detail of their countenance. Their hair and makeup was perfect, their clothing stylish and often alluring, they always wore nylons, often stockings sometimes tights, and high heels were de rigueur. He was not a fan of boots or platforms; he was a stiletto heel aficionado.

Some of the crossdressers who inhabited the Black Sheep met his high standards but most of them let him down with their loose morals. His fantasy was fuelled by thoughts of having one of those beautiful special ladies for his very own; to kiss him, to snuggle up to him, to gratify him sexually, to be devoted to him and to love him. He would love her in return.

It was a preposterous idea and he knew it but he could dream. The girls down on Canal Street who fuelled his fantasy had a particular weakness he found abhorrent: they had loose morals. He saw how they behaved in the pubs and clubs and he saw what they got up to in parked cars, doss houses and up against the wall down by the canal. No wonder the coppers were hell-bent on locking them up, they were whores being passed from man to man.

But all that changed when the man saw Crystal and he began to stalk her. She was young, beautiful, alluring, a bit of tease yes but she was chaste. He saw the look of disdain on her face when men groped her and her contempt for the crossdressers whose morals were loose. She tolerated Wendy and Brittany licentiousness because they were her friends.

The man knew where Crystal lived, the route she walked to and from the Black Sheep, her weekly visits to the Oxfam Emporium. He knew about Colin, where he worked, how little he socialised how he spent all of his spare time as Crystal, adopting her persona every chance he got.

One night after the Black Sheep closed and the throng was dispersing the man was watching Crystal more intently than he ever had before. She had drunk more than she usually did and was behaving a little gregariously. A handsome young man named Dennis Hadley had sat at Crystal’s table, wedging himself in beside her, chatting to her and buying her drinks. Brittany and Wendy had hooked a couple of their regular Admirers and were encouraging Crystal to let her hair down.

Dennis was more a boy than a man, probably in his early twenties but he was handsome and confident and was an accomplished conversationalist. He’d even talked Crystal into getting up for a dance, holding her close during the slow numbers, taking his time but eventually putting a hand on her arse and gently squeezing it. Dennis nuzzled her neck, then her cheek and finally stole a kiss.

The man was fuming. He wanted to rip Crystal out of the Dennis’s embrace and thrash the young upstart and then punish Crystal for her lewdness.

Crystal knew that she had drunk too many Gin and Britvic bitter lemons but the boy was handsome, he had the gift of the gab and he showed her admiration and respect. When Dennis had taken a few liberties on the dance floor she hadn't minded too much. She had allowed Dennis to kiss her and she quite liked it. She liked his attentiveness. Besides she would send him home disappointed just like she had all the other men who had shown an interest in her that way.

But she had drunk even more and at closing time found herself on the street with Wendy and her beau. Brittany had let her gentleman friend walk her home. Dennis had his arm around Crystal’s waist as much to keep her on her feet as to cuddle her.

“Come on down the canal Crystal; you’re too pissed to walk home and you won’t get a cab at this time of night,” Wendy squawked.

Crystal knew that Wendy was right, she couldn’t walk home in this condition and there was no way she was letting this boy walk her home; he would know where she lived if she did. She reluctantly acquiesced to go down to the canal and she could sense the perception of victory and eagerness in the young lad who was keeping her on her feet.

The man followed them, staying in the shadows, his heart in his mouth. He knew where they were going and what was likely to happen. If Crystal surrendered her virtue he would be bitterly disappointed and would have to begin his search all over again. He had only just finished remodelling the basement, mounting the specially constructed the door, putting in the security camera. His adoration for Crystal was being severely tested.

Crystal allowed herself to be led along Chorlton Street and down the slippery stone steps to the towpath that ran alongside the canal. She and Dennis stopped frequently to kiss and cuddle which Crystal endured because she could hardly stand on her own two feet. Wendy and her chap, a besuited man in his forties, also stopped to canoodle, the man squeezing her buttocks and slipping a hand under her skirt which Wendy didn’t seem to mind at all.

The man treaded carefully down the steps behind them, waiting for the foursome to dawdle along the towpath before he crept along behind them hugging the wall.

They passed men ensconced in passionate embraces hiding in the gloom and young rent boys on their knees servicing punters who had parked in the nearby Bloom Street car park. In a cut-out cloister in the brick wall running along the towpath a tranny was bent over a crate, her skirt hitched up and her knickers around her ankles as a fat man wearing work clothes and a flatcap buggered her.

Wendy and her chap laughed raucously and Crystal tittered nervously; she found the spectacle distasteful. Dennis nuzzled her neck and nipped her ear which, although not unpleasant, didn’t seem an appropriate response for where they were and what they had just witnessed.

The man was trailing behind the foursome, sidled up to wall so as not to be obvious. When he passed the cloister the tranny was sitting on the crate pulling up her knickers, her suitor had passed the man, heading furtively but quickly back to the Bloom Street car park.

The tranny paused, her knickers not quite hitched up all the way.

“You wanna go luv? Tenner for a shag and a fiver for a blowie,” she grinned at him, her lipstick smeared around her mouth and her wig slightly askew.

The man shivered with revulsion and moved on.

“Here’s my spot,” Wendy pulled her chap into a deep cloister.

The bricked archway was gloomy but a streetlight across the canal cast enough yellow light into the cut-out to see well enough.

There was an old mattress on the ground in the corner with a threadbare comforter on top. Crystal did not want to think of what kind of vermin might have called the cloister home nor what bodily fluids had been absorbed by the mattress and comforter over the time it had been here.

There were empty beer cans and pop bottles, cigarette butts and decaying condoms scattered on the damp cobbled floor.

Crystal was starting to sober up and regretted her decision to follow Wendy and her chap down to the canal and to allow this young man to accompany her.

“Come on luv,” Wendy giggled and pulled her chap down onto the mattress.

Dennis pressed Crystal against the wall and tried to kiss her. She resisted his advances at first, moving her face away from his and wriggling her body, trying to break free of his embrace. The young man was becoming angry and she could understand why. Hadn't she come willingly to this den of debauchery? What did she expect would happen?

Crystal stopped struggling. She’d let Dennis have a kiss and a cuddle and then she would get him to accompany her back to civilisation and they would part ways and she would walk home.

Dennis realised that his anger was upsetting Crystal so he stopped being aggressive and held her gently in his arms. He pressed his lips to hers and she let him kiss her.

He was pretty good. His lips firm but not crushing, his body pressed against her but not overly frenetic, his arms were around her and he stroked her tenderly. Despite the surroundings, Crystal actually felt quite womanly and appreciated.

The man had stopped at the archway and pressed his back against the brickwork facing the canal.

“Fucking bitch!” he hissed quietly.

He turned to face the wall and peeked into the cloister and saw Wendy on the filthy mattress with her chap on top of her kissing her. He’d hiked up her red velvet miniskirt and was in the process of trying to pull down her knickers and tights as Wendy wriggled and giggled underneath him, encouraging him.

Crystal was pinned against the wall by the young man who held her in his arms and was kissing her. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be enjoying being kissed, although her hands rested chastely on the boy’s shoulders; there was no real carnality unlike Wendy who had her legs wrapped around her beau and was helping him steer his erect penis between her pale plump buttocks.

Dennis slipped his had under Crystal’s black leather skirt and stroked her thighs. She clamped them shut and tried to remove his hand. The boy was hot and she could feel that he was tumescent. He pushed his groin into her and she could feel the protuberance through his jeans rubbing on her body.

“Ok Dennis that’s enough. Take me back to Piccadilly Gardens and I’ll walk home from there,” Crystal tried to break the embrace.

“Your friend knows what it’s all about. What about it love?” the boy’s nature had changed.

He was no longer an attentive suitor, he was becoming quiet aggressive.

Dennis forced his lips on Crystal's mouth and pawed at her thighs and she began to struggle.

“Don’t be like that. Isn’t this what your type want? Some nice bloke to tell you how pretty you are before he bends you over and shags you up the arse,” Dennis hissed as he struggled with the pretty transvestite.

He could already see himself coming into the Black Sheep the next night victorious, telling everyone that he had shagged the prick-tease transvestite, drinking free beer all night having won the bet. Besides which Crystal was very attractive and had a pretty face, great legs and a nice arse and he fancied putting it to her.

Dennis went back to work forcing his kisses on her, stroking her thighs.

Crystal no longer enjoyed being kissed by Dennis. He might be handsome and athletic but he was being unduly rough with her. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, pinning her against the brickwork, his hand under her skirt pulling at her tights and knickers.

“Stop it!” Crystal tried to push the boy away but he was too strong.

Dennis was fumbling around between her legs and Crystal was getting quite frustrated with the young man’s insistence.

The man who had followed Crystal peeked into the cut-out and saw Crystal pinned against the wall by the handsome young man. Jealousy coursed through him and he became enraged but then he realised that Crystal was trying to fight the young lad off. He considered leaping into the cloister and rescuing Crystal and giving the young man a thrashing but he would give himself away. But he couldn’t just stand here and watch the young ruffian defile the object of his desire against her will.

Then he saw a light down the end of the towpath. It was very bright and was being shone against the brick wall and into the cut-outs and underpasses illuminating men in the throes of carnal exploits. When the light exposed them the men ran away down the towpath and up the first flight of steps they came to. The man looked up the slick, mossy brickwork and saw a flicker of blue light reflected off the nearby buildings. He ran up the steps and saw a police panda car and a black maria with its doors open near the top of the steps. The wooden-tops were herding the men into the paddy wagon as they emerged from the towpath.

Crystal had just about given up fighting Dennis. He was kissing her passionately and she let him. It wasn’t really that unpleasant but she just wished she wasn’t in this filthy viaduct underpass. Dennis had stopped pawing at her and was content to press his body against hers and Crystal let him. She wished Wendy would hurry up and finish with her friend so they could leave. She glanced over and saw Wendy lying on her back on the filthy mattress, the man on top of her with his trousers down, rutting away at her plump arse, her nyloned legs wrapped around him. They were both grunting and groaning.

She tore her eyes away from the carnality and suddenly became aware of something hot and hard was pressing on her leg. Dennis was humping her thighs. He kissed her harder, pressing her against the brick wall so hard that she couldn’t move. She felt a scalding wetness erupt on her right thigh and realised that the boy had climaxed on her leg, rubbing his hard cock on her best sheers.

Dennis shuddered and moaned as he orgasmed and Crystal was able to push him off her and she slapped his face but Dennis just laughed.

“Don’t come on like that you slag; you wanted it, otherwise why would you have come down the canal with me,” Dennis snarled as he put away his shrinking hardon and zipped up his jeans.

It was then that a bobby on a bike stopped at the entrance to the cut-out and shined a torch into it, illuminating the tableaux of Wendy being shagged on the mattress by the man in the suit and Crystal with her skirt up wiping semen off her nylons.

“You’re all nicked!” the copper yelled out.

Dennis bolted out the cut-out and ran for the stairs. The besuited suitor climbed off Wendy and ran after him, trying to button his trousers as he stumbled after the boy. Wendy sprang off the mattress and pulled up her knickers and tights with a speed that was surprising given her chubby physique.

Crystal was still dumbfounded but then she realised what was happening. The bobby had cycled on down the towpath but it was obvious that he had colleagues close by; Crystal could hear the clatter above her as the miscreants were rounded up.

She bolted out of the cut-out as best she could on her high heels and was about to follow Wendy up the steps when a hand reached out and grabbed her upper arm.

“Not that way! Go back down the towpath the way you came and take the steps that lead up to Chorlton Street. Go straight home and don’t look back,” the man whispered harshly in her ear and pushed her down the towpath back the way she had come.

The man was right, whoever he was; she never really saw his face in the dark and the confusion. It was the longer way back to the streets of Manchester but there were no coppers that way. Crystal looked around to see if she could see the man who had saved her from an embarrassing incarceration but he was gone.

The man stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked off the other way, ignored by the coppers who were busy rounding up the rent boys, their punters and the odd tranny or two.

When Crystal got home she locked the door behind her and collapsed on the couch and realised how lucky and how stupid she had been. She could have suffered the humiliation of being locked up in the watch house still dressed in drag. When she had regained her composure she staggered off to the bedroom, no longer drunk but suffering from shock. Then she remembered that Dennis had splooged on her best sheers and she lifted her skirt and looked at the large silvery stain on her right thigh. She shucked out of her skirt and rolled down her nylons and tossed them aside.

Too exhausted to do much more she pulled off her wig and fell onto the bed.

Later that night she awoke and felt around the bed until she found the nylons she had been wearing.

She fingered the wet patch and put it to her nose and sniffed the musky scent of Dennis’s semen. She wrapped the other leg of the nylon around her turgid member and stroked herself to climax, inhaling the heady scent of Dennis’s cum. She felt ashamed for doing so but not for long. She soon fell asleep and dreamt of her Prince Charming rescuing her from some villainous cretin.

The next evening at the Black Sheep the talk was all about the roundup down at the canal. Crystal had to endure a lecture from Brittany about how stupid she had been to go down there with the young man. Wendy wasn’t there because she had spent the night in the watchhouse and had been bailed by Brittany on Saturday morning and was currently trying to justify to his wife why he hadn't come home.

There was no sign of Dennis and Crystal was glad. She blushed when she remembered what she done with her semen-soaked nylons alone her bed the night before.

“Two fat ladies eighty-eight,” the drag queen on the stage called out, starting the first bingo game.

“Two little ducks, twenty two,” her partner called out and the audience dutifully replied ‘quack, quack’.

Crystal was saved from further lecturing by Brittany and she marked her bingo card. She wondered who the stranger was who had come to her rescue and guided her on the right path away from the police roundup.

The man sat in his usual corner watching her. He had finished the room in his cellar. It was time to make Crystal his captive before she did anything more stupid than she had last night.

Kidnapping Crystal had turned out to be remarkably easier than he thought it would be.

On the night he had set aside to kidnap her he was sitting at the crowed bar at the Black Sheep when they called last drinks and one of the Admirers sitting with Crystal, Brittany and Wendy came to the bar and ordered a final round. The barman searched underneath the bar for a tray for the Admirer to put the drinks on and the Admirer spotted a tray on a recently vacated table and went to get it leaving the drinks unattended for the few seconds the man needed to put the toxin in the only Gin and Britvic bitter lemon on the bar.

Wendy had not learned her lesson and went with an Admirer down towards the canal and Brittany had one of her regulars walk her home. Crystal parted company with Brittany and her beau at Piccadilly Gardens and by then she was feeling the effects of the potion the man had slipped in her drink. At first Crystal just thought she had drunk too many gins and the fresh air was taking its toll on her but soon she felt disoriented and very confused.

The man swept in and helped Crystal who by this time was finding it difficult to stay on her feet and had no idea what was happening. He helped her all the way to his house on Cooper Street. Anybody watching them at this late hour would think that the man was helping his inebriated girlfriend home.

Once he had her safely inside the house he took Crystal down to the cellar and put her to bed in her cell.

Now

That had all taken place so long ago that she couldn't recall exactly how long ago it was. She had been incarcerated for so long that time didn't really matter to her any longer. Crystal could only lie on the bed and look at the open door. How long had she been held captive? She didn’t know, but this was the first time she had ever seen the door to her cell open. It mesmerised her.

Then Crystal turned her attention to the man standing behind the nicely set table. He was vaguely familiar. Had she seen him in the Black Sheep?

The first thing she noticed was that the man was handsome she had to admit begrudgingly. He was older than her but not much; early thirties? He was tanned and fit. She could confirm this because the man was wearing a mulberry silk bathrobe which showed off his bronze muscular chest and well-developed legs. His feet were shod in expensive leather sandals.

“You drugged me again,” Crystal said churlishly, making no effort to get off her bed.

She pulled her black satin and lace negligee tightly around her in a vain display of modesty.

The man smiled appreciatively.

“Only a little bit, just to make you sleepy. I wanted this to a surprise,” the man indicated the dinner service.

“I’ve seen you before haven’t I? At the Black Sheep?” Crystal tried to recall where she had seen the man before.

The man flicked his sandy hair out of his eyes and studied her; his deep blue eyes sparkled with amusement.

“The Black Sheep yes… and on the canal towpath,” the man was incredibly handsome when he smiled.

“It was you! You saved me… when the coppers were raiding the cut-out arches under the towpath wall: Cyril’s wooden-tops on bicycles scaring the poofters out of the cloisters and the coppers at the top of the stairs arresting them and putting them in the paddy wagon. You sent me the other way so I wasn’t rounded up,” Crystal realised who the man was now.

“Your fat friend wasn’t so lucky,” the man chuckled.

Crystal bristled. She didn’t like his tone.

“Wendy is pleasantly plump, not fat, and it isn’t funny that she got locked up,” Crystal barked at him.

“Ok. Keep yer knickers on. I didn’t mean to insult your friend. The other one, Brittany, now she’s a sort,” the man took a pristine white napkin and flicked it open.

Crystal could not believe that she was feeling jealous of Brittany.

“If you fancied her so much, why didn’t you kidnap her instead of me?” Crystal hissed at the man.

“Because she has no virtue. She takes men home to her place. Lots of men,” the man held the napkin out to Crystal who reluctantly arose from the bed.

“You know a lot about us,” Crystal approached the table wearily.

“I know a lot about you,” the man pulled out a chair for her.

Crystal sat down and the man laid the napkin in her lap.

The man wanted to grab Crystal. To kiss her and to hold her close to him. To throw her on the bed and lie on top of her and do things to her. Do all the things he had dreamed of doing to her but that would spoil the months of hard work that he put in. He cleared his mind of the fantasy and began to serve.

“You say Brittany has no virtue. This from the man who pokes his cock through a glory hole twice a day and demands that I suck it!” Crystal barked.

“You didn’t like it at first but you got used to it and now you like it,” the man smiled cheekily at her as he spooned greens onto her plate.

Crystal blushed deep crimson.

“You said it yourself Crystal, I know a lot about you. I know everything about you,” the man used tongs to place a warm bread roll on Crystal’s side plate and then he plated his own dinner.

The aroma of the food was making Crystal salivate but she didn’t want to appear overly eager.

“It’s coq au vin with roasted new potatoes, green beans and asparagus,” the man waved at her plate.

Sitting across from her captor with a dinner service between them and good food and wine on the table was the most bizarre thing that had happened to Crystal since she had been captured… but why didn’t it seem that way? Because the man was insane? She didn’t think so. He wasn’t insane. He was infatuated with her, besotted with her, bewitched by her, possessed by her and now he possessed her.

Crystal couldn’t help but stare at the open door only a few feet away. She was intrigued by it.

“You can go out through the door if you want to,” the man poured them both wine.

“Is this drugged too,” Crystal said snarkily and pointed to her glass.

“No my sweet and I promise I will never drug you again,” the man smiled at her.

“Now I think it’s time I properly introduced myself. I’m Alex Prince,” the man hung out his glass like he was offering a toast.

"Of course you are," Crystal nearly choked at the irony.

Crystal picked up her own glass and let him clink the glasses together.

“Alex Prince. Now I have a name to give the police when I get out of here,” Crystal said mockingly.

“Really Crystal? And do you think they will believe you? That you were held prisoner in my cellar conversion which I am currently advertising as available for rent? That I force upon you a regime whereby you live full time as the beautiful woman that you are but which I’m sure the Manchester constabulary will find abhorrent? That you give me sexual favours through a specially made portal which will have been replaced by a normal wooden door by the time the plods get here,” Alex buttered his roll while he was talking.

“As for Colin Divine, he told his employers and his landlord that he was going to visit a non-existent brother in Australia. When you turn up at the Manchester police station dressed in your finery I’m sure they will be very accommodating and find your story very believable,” Alex smiled wanly at her, mocking her.

Crystal picked up her own roll and began to butter it.

“You called my bluff. Of course I can’t go to the coppers and anyway it’s not them I’m worried about. It’s the papers. The British tabloids would have a field day with my story and they’d never leave me alone. I’ll have to think of some other way to wreak my revenge,” Crystal daintily popped a piece of buttered bread into her mouth and smiled at Alex.

“Shall we dine?” Alex raised his glass and Crystal clinked the lip of her glass against his and took a sip of the very good burgundy.

“So now that you have shown yourself to me; why don’t you tell me about yourself?” Crystal said as she cut into the tender chicken.

“It’s not a nice story I'm afraid,” Alex said; his voice a half-whisper.

Alex Prince told Crystal his life story.

Then

Alex Prince wasn’t sure at what age he realised that his mother was a tom; he supposed he’d always known. Knocked up young by a soldier who told her loved her and then abandoned her when he found out she was pregnant, thrown out onto the streets by her parents, what chance did his mother have?

All Silvia Prince had were her looks and her body. Despite the advice from Child Services and almost everyone she knew Silvia decided to keep her baby. It wasn’t much of a life for Alex being dragged around from doss house to doss house, brothel to brothel, bedsit to bedsit. Silvia insisted that Alex go to school and she did her best to keep him away from the seedy part of her life and the men she brought home or came to visit.

For Alex, a handsome, intelligent boy, school was rough. The other students knew that his mother was a prostitute and they teased him relentlessly until he became big enough to fend for himself and took up sports including boxing. After beating the school bully nearly unconscious he was left alone by the others.

He grew up lonely and angry; his only real friends were his mother’s fellow prostitutes. Street walkers, brothel queens, callgirls and escorts where his surrogate family. Some of them looked after him while his mother worked or had to go to hospital for reasons he was never told. He tolerated them but he found no real love there, except for Miriam Tuttle.

Miriam was different from the other women but Alex didn’t know why. She was always dressed nice, a little racy of course because she had to advertise her profession; she was always dressed in short skirts, blouses, nylon stockings, heels and full makeup; Alex could never recall seeing Miriam sitting around in a tattered housedress or nightie like the other women.

Miriam’s voice was deep, dark and exotic and she showed Alex genuine affection; nothing sexual, she was just kind, considerate and loving towards him and bought him little presents and looked after Alex as his mother’s health declined and her dependence on drugs and alcohol began to spiral out of control.

Alex was taken away from his mother by Child Services and went to live with his aunt who reared him into adulthood. His aunt was an antique aficionado and Alex was good with his hands. He was taking woodwork classes at school and showed an interest in furniture restoration and carpentry. His aunt fostered his interests and introduced him into the world of fine furniture. When he left school she found him a job working part time for an antique merchant while he undertook an apprenticeship in carpentry.

His aunt was a flamboyant buxom woman who was always well-dressed and accessorised. She was like the antiques she sold from the little shed out back of her house: garish and gaudy and a little patched up, except in her case it was makeup and tight-fitting skirts, rather than wood-filler and varnish.

It came as no surprise to Alex when his mother finally succumbed to her vices and the now strapping eighteen year old young man attended her funeral alone; his aunt refused to attend.

It was a small affair and afterwards a few of his mother’s acquaintances went down to the pub to drink to her memory. Miriam Tuttle was there dressed nicely in a dark skirt-suit, sheer black nylon stockings and very high heels. Her makeup was heavy but flawless and her blonde hair was coiffed in a fringed bouffant.

Alex drank too much and Miriam took him back to her bedsit. She went to the little stove to make coffee when Alex came up behind her and pressed himself to her.

“Alex, you are just grieving for your mother, you shouldn’t be doing this,” she said, her back to him, the heat of his erection pressing into her buttocks.

“You were always there for me Miriam. You always cared for me but I’ve always fancied you I think,” Alex sniffed her hair; she smelled divine.

“Don’t be silly Alex,” Miriam tried to make light of the situation as she spooned instant coffee into two cups.

“You were different from the others; you really cared for me,” Alex nuzzled Miriam’s cheek.

“I’m too old for you Alex and I’m not your type. You should be chasing young go-go dancers or some nice girl you met in Technical College,” Miriam said.

Alex was strong and he spun Miriam around so that she was facing him. He looked into her pretty face which was beginning to age and showing the signs of years working as a prostitute. He wanted to kiss those plump lipsticked lips as he gazed into her hazel eyes, enhanced by too much mascara, eyeliner and eyeshadow.

“Alex you know we shouldn’t. You know I’m not like the other girls,” Miriam whispered as Alex pressed his mouth to her hers.

He held her close and guided her across the small room to the rickety bed where he eased her down on the rumpled bedclothes. On the little nightstand beside her cigarettes and ashtray were the tools of her trade: condoms, lubricants, stimulants and a vibrator. He ignored them and lay on top of Miriam and kissed her passionately, pressing his cock into her belly.

She lay underneath him, mostly passive; letting him have his way with her. Anything to console him.

He shucked out of his suit and shirt and kicked off his shoes, leaving on his socks and underpants like so many of her punters. He mounted her again and hiked up her skirt and rubbed his cock on her stockings. She could feel the warmth and sturdiness of his throbbing appendage and she reached down and softly stroked it. He gasped in her mouth around his fervent kisses.

Alex put his hands inside Miriam’s jacket and squeezed her breasts through her blouse. They felt different, not quite right and he abandoned his assault on her bosom and put his hands between her legs. Her knickers were silky and lacy and he moved his cock from her thighs and rubbed it on the front of her knickers, enjoying the feel of the slippery satin on his engorged member.

Alex had only had sex on two previous occasions, up against the wall in the alley next to his local pub with girls of dubious morals but he had a rudimentary idea of what he was supposed to do.

He slipped his cock into the leg-hole of Miriam’s knickers intending to spear her cunt with his hard cock. It puzzled him that he couldn’t find the entrance. Where was her fleshy labia like the other girls he had shagged?

“Silly boy,” Miriam sniggered.

She reached out for the lubricant on the nightstand and smeared a dollop on his rampant member. In his drunken haze he figured that Miriam must be dry down there from all the fucking she did. It felt wonderful when she took his glistening organ and guided it to her opening. She had put two pillows under her back and lifted her buttocks for him. She still had her knickers on; in fact she was still fully-clothed, which Alex didn’t mind at all. He liked the feel of her clothing on his body especially her stocking and knickers.

He slipped inside of her and she was tight. Miriam wrapped her legs around his waist and encouraged Alex to fuck her, kissing him passionately with her arms around his neck. Alex knew that something wasn’t quite right but right now it didn’t matter, he was in heavenly bliss fucking this beautiful but jaded older woman, feeling her nyloned legs scissoring on his tender flesh, her lips pressed to his and her tongue in his mouth.

Miriam reached down into her knickers and did something and it was only then that Alex realised that she had just freed her cock and balls from between her legs. Now he knew what was so different about Miriam Tuttle but right now he didn’t care, he was about to come and he thrust his cock deep inside her anus and spent himself, kissing her roughly, hammering his cock into her. He felt a warm stickiness on his belly and realised that Miriam had come in her knickers, the stench of musky semen filled the room.

Alex wanted to climb off this impostor and punch her whilst at the same time he felt a deep loving affection for her and the opposing sentiments were causing him grave anguish but did not prevent him from enjoying the orgasm that washed over him as Miriam held him tight and kissed him deeply, locking her legs around his waist.

When he had finished with her, Alex climbed off Miriam unable to look at her. He’d seen the tip of her penis poking above the waistband of her knickers and the wet patch on the front panel of her knickers where she had ejaculated. Some of her issue was on his belly and he frantically wiped it off with a tea towel and threw it at her.

“You’re an impostor. All these years I thought you were a woman and you were… were… were a freak!” Alex spat at her.

Miriam was curled up on the bed crying, her back turned to him.

“I thought you knew! I was sure Silvia had told you… had explained it to you,” Miriam spoke softly to the wall.

Alex hurriedly dressed.

“Tranny cunt!” he hissed at her as he slammed the door and ran down the stairs.

Alex completed his apprenticeship and went on to open his own antique shop and restoration service helped out by a loan from his aunt who kept an eye out for bargains for him to purchase and restore. He retained his interest in sports and fitness and kept himself healthy and tanned, taking holidays to sunny destinations when he could afford it.

The anguish and torment that he felt about the incident with Miriam Tuttle affected him deeply. He developed a love-hate relationship with transvestites. He found himself unable to perform with cisgender women but fascinated by transvestites but only those who were passable and attractive. He loathed them and he craved for them. He hated their promiscuousness but loved their femininity.

He tried going with transvestite prostitutes but he felt self-loathing every time afterwards. He chatted transvestites up in the bars around Canal Street, attracted to them by their feminine attractiveness but repelled by them when they became licentious. He was unable to resist their charms but afterwards he felt pity for them because they needed strangers to use them sexually to validate their femininity and after he had fucked them he felt disgusted with himself because he was unable to resist their charms. He wanted his own special woman; someone unsullied and unspoiled. It became his passion, his obsession, a compulsion.

He scoured the streets of Manchester looking for his perfect partner. Years of his life spent trying to find that special girl without success. He searched high and low looking for his own special girl to love him and worship him but she had to be unsullied. He needed to find a transvestite who was new to the life. If he found her we would keep her all to himself and cherish her and worship her and she would worship him.

He confessed his predicament to his aunt who took pity on her nephew. Raised by prostitutes, abandoned by his father, orphaned by his mother, deceived by the woman he had unknowingly fallen in love with. His aunt had no problems with the transvestites and crossdressers who gathered in the Canal Street gay village; in fact she was supportive of them and was sympathetic. She just wished that Alex could find some sort of solace and contentment. If only she could help him.

Then Alex finally found Crystal.

Now

Throughout the story Crystal couldn’t help but stare at the open door. She listened intently to what Alex was saying but the door was a distraction. It had been closed and locked for so long that seeing it wide open like this was perturbing.

As he told his story she pitied Alex, raised by toms, his mother addicted to alcohol and drugs, taken away by Child Services and placed with a relative, but when he told her about Miriam Tuttle she bristled. Yes, Alex was naïve enough to think that Miriam was a real woman, she must have been very convincing, but that didn’t excuse his actions.

Crystal had seen fervent Admirers at the Black Sheep, the ones who were obsessed with her kind. Licking their wet fleshy lips, their eyes darting here and there, glaring at the pretty transvestites, nostrils flaring at a glimpse of thigh of a flash of knicker, Brittany had warned Crystal about them. They were fanatical and sometimes dangerous but also pathetic.

But Alex Prince was something else. A man dedicated to finding his perfect lover: a beautiful transvestite woman who was still morally chaste and had held onto her virtue. Crystal couldn’t help but admire his resolve but at the same time wasn’t it a form of madness?

He was handsome, fit and well-spoken and he adored her but he was also a kidnapper who kept her locked up in this gilded cage and demanded sexual favours from her. She wasn’t stupid. His demand for her to dress how she was, his insistence on her toilet routine which included douching, his presence in her room; he was about to compel her to make the ultimate sacrifice, to surrender her virtue… he was going to fuck her!

When dinner was nearly over she considered her choices. She could bolt for the door and if she succeeded she could lock Alex in the cell but then what? She was dressed in lingerie and could hardly go out on the streets like that. She could remove her makeup and put on some of Alex’s clothes but the thought of dressing like a man after all this time was anathema.

Even if she succeeded, where would she go? She no longer had a flat. She could go to Brittany’s and tell her what? Who would believe her story and if they did what would they do? The police would likely not believe her and in any event would not be sympathetic; there had been no physical violence towards her. She certainly couldn’t go to her parents; they would have no sympathy and her father would tell her she got what she deserved.

All this was moot. She wasn’t going to run for the door. Did she want her freedom… yes! But she wanted a different type of freedom. Crystal wanted freedom on her own terms.

Alex Prince was both the villain and the hero in Crystal’s own bodice-ripper story. He was the wicked man that she hated, who had captured her and held her hostage, but he was also the handsome hero and who had come to rescue her.

With dinner completed Crystal drank another glass of wine sitting on the little sofa while Alex pushed the trolley outside. He dimmed the lights and sat down beside her, drink in hand.

“Do you know how long I have wanted for us to be like this? To sit together and hold an intelligent conversation, to be able to look at you without the door between us, to see how wonderful and beautiful you really are?” Alex whispered.

“As opposed to sticking your cock through a hole in the door and demanding I suck it?” Crystal hissed and scooched away from him as much as the sofa would allow.

“Initially yes and I’m sorry but you must admit that once you overcame your revulsion, you liked it,” he smiled at her, radiating his handsomeness at her.

He put his hand on her leg and Crystal froze. This was the moment of truth for her.

He circled his fingers, caressing her knee, his finger slipping underneath her leg and smoothing the little wrinkles in her stocking at the back of her knees. It felt surreal and frightening but also comforting: the feel of another human being touching her after being alone for so long in the cell.

He scooched over and she had nowhere to go; she was pinned between his body and the armrest. Alex slipped his arm along the back of the sofa and rested his hand lightly on her shoulder, stroking her softly.

It was terrifying and comforting at the same time as Alex circled his fingers on her knee whilst his other hand caressed her shoulder. His gown was slightly open and she could see his tanned muscular chest, his flat belly and also the protuberance in his lap.

She knew what it was. She’d stroked it often enough, she’d suckled it, she’d milked very drop of the nectar that flowed from the purple head.

But this was different. There was no door between them.

Alex stood up abruptly and put his arms under her knees and the small of her back and carried her to bed. She felt so tiny, petite and helpless but she found the warmth of his body comforting during the short journey.

He laid her on the bed and kicked off his sandals and lay down beside her.

Alex kissed his captive for the first time and it was wonderful. She lay passively chaste and unresponsive but the sensation of her soft lips against his, the smell of her, the taste of her was sublime. Her lips were soft and supple, her breath sweet, her perfume alluring, his cock was so hard that it was painful.

Crystal let him kiss her. The touch of a warm body was a palliative for the loneliness she had felt during her confinement. Alex was wearing cologne and it was manly and musky, his body seemed to radiate heat, his breath was masculine and he tasted of garlic, spices and red wine. It was not unpleasant but she refused to respond. She would not be the fey damsel who melted in his arms and clung to him adoringly.

Alex stroked her upper arm as he gently kissed her. Crystal half expected him to throw her on her back or bend her over and ravage her but he did no such thing. He was soft, kind and gentle, murmuring to Crystal how beautiful and feminine she was. His platitudes bounced off her armour. He was buttering her up before he violated her. How long before he either forced himself on her or turned out the lights and starved her like he did before when she refused to provide him with sexual favours?

Alex persevered and continued to kiss Crystal chastely, pressing his lips softly against hers, not in any way forceful; he also caressed her gently but chastely, stroking her arms, her shoulders, her cheek. He pressed his body against her but not hard or lewdly, as much as he wanted to, he ensured that his erection did not come into contact with Crystal’s body.

This was how a paramour in her Mills and Boon would behave. There would be no written narrative of rutting passionate sex, just a description of soft caresses and kissing which slowly burned into unbridled passion but there would be no grubby vulgar portrayal of penetrative sex; that was all implied, the reader allowed to invent their own tableaux of the lovers copulating.

Alex put his hand on Crystal's trim waist and softly caressed her. The feel of the delicate fabric of her négligée on her flesh felt delightful, like soft kisses from a stranger. She supressed a gasp but couldn’t repress a sigh. Alex heard it and kissed her a little harder, not much, not insistently. Crystal’s lips opened just a little and Alex resisted the temptation to thrust his tongue into her mouth. He just continued kiss her softly and stroke her seductively.

Crystal was feeling confused. Alex was so handsome and since he had come through the door he had behaved like a gentleman. He bombarded her with compliments and held her chastely but adoringly, his kisses were soft and sweet and she yearned for human contact but it wasn’t just that. She thought again of what she had read about Stockholm Syndrome. Was she simply experiencing an emotional response towards her abuser and captor?

Whatever it was it gnawed away at her. Part of her wanted to push him away and run to the door and part of her wanted to curl up in his arms.

The tip of his tongue slipped past her lips and she could have easily bitten it but she didn’t. He didn’t thrust his tongue roughly into her and forage in her mouth like the few men she had kissed before him had done. His tongue crept under her lips and tickled her palate. Nobody had ever done that before and it felt surprisingly erotic.

But Crystal refused to offer any response. She lay still while Alex kissed her softly and lovingly, while his fingers caressed her flesh through the gauzy négligée, while he whispered endearments into her ear, his lips tickling her earlobes.

She had to admit that she had never felt so feminine, so adored, so cherished. It was as if the roles had had been reversed and she held power over him, which she knew in a way she did. Crystal imagined that at this moment in time this man would do anything for her.

Alex was maddeningly frustrated. As much as he loved kissing and canoodling his cherished prize she was not responding to his advances. He would have preferred that she fought him, bit him, scratched him, yelled obscenities at him rather than just lie there passively.

She had won. Crystal had beaten him. He had no interest or intent on forcing himself on her; that would spoil things forever. He surrendered.

Crystal felt Alex take his hand from her waist and his lips stopped kissing her and caressing her ear. The whispered terms of endearment ceased and she felt him shift on the bed. He rolled away from her and she could feel him pivot and his weight shifted as he prepared to alight from the bed.

He said one word.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Crystal felt abandoned and forsaken. She missed the shape of his body pressing against her, the light touch of his fingers on her waist, the softness of his lips pressing gently on hers, the taste of his tongue, the scent of his flesh. She had defeated her enemy but she had also rebuffed her saviour.

Crystal reached out and crooked her little finger in his. Alex stopped moving and lay on the bed with his back to her, the space between them felt like an ocean but they were connected by the fragile link of their intertwined pinkie fingers. He lay still and cherished the ephemeral connection between them. He imagined he could feel the beating of her heart through her finger. She curled her pinkie and stroked his palm and Alex sighed.

Crystal scooted across the gap between them and pressed her body against his. She put her arm around him and this time he was certain that he could feel her beating heart.

“Kiss me again,” Crystal whispered.

Alex rolled over and looked deeply into Crystal’s green eyes and searched them. He saw fear and confusion but also affection.

He kissed her softly and stroked her cheek, his other hand gently stroking the arch of her back. Alex was aware that Crystal was returning his kiss, pressing her lips against his, her mouth open slightly. He sensed her longing as she snuggled up to him, the soft caress of her negligee against the bare skin of his chest, the suppleness of her trembling lips, the delicate kneading of her fingers on his upper arm.

Crystal slipped the tip of her tongue into Alex’s mouth. She wanted to taste him, to draw his breath into her lungs and savour the essence of him. She pressed her soft body against his and put her leg over his and his hand went instinctively to the long limb and stroked the silky soft stocking. She couldn’t help but smile and he felt it.

He kissed her a little firmer; his tongue found hers and tickled it. She pressed herself harder against him, feeling the manliness of him, feeling the hard bulge against her belly but she didn’t feel repulsed by it.

They kissed for an eternity and Alex stroked her leg, starting at her ankle and then softly caressing her silken-hosed limb, slowly working his way upward; pausing at her knee to caress the tender flesh behind it and feeling her gasp into his mouth when he tickled her there. Then his hand continued its journey to the top of her thigh, exploring dark gauzy welt at the top her stocking, fingering the crease where her leg joined her torso but proceeding no further.

“A girl only ever has one first time. Make it special. Don’t hurt me,” Crystal whispered in his ear and Alex’s cock uncoiled and distended in anticipation.

“Of course my precious. I love you,” the words fell from his lips as softly and as easily as the tears that fell from Crystal’s eyes when she heard them.

She thought him foolish but at the same time she adored him for saying it.

Crystal slipped her hand inside Alex’s jacket and ran her fingers across his hard chest, her nails catching wisps of his chest hair. She undid the cincture and opened the robe and Alex lifted his arms so she could take it off him. He was naked expect for his underpants. Crystal cuddled up to him wanting to feel his warmth and the firmness of his body; he cradled her tiny form in his arms and kissed the top of her head.

The sheathlike gossamer négligée she was wearing felt sensually provocative against his flesh, her stocking-clad thigh a sensuous satiny graze on his leg. He was uncomfortably tumescent, his penis trapped in his underwear aching for freedom.

Crystal kissed him deeply and lovingly for the first time and his head swam as she pressed her lips against his and her tongue slithered around in his mouth. He felt her fingertips graze his manhood and then she surprised him and freed his organ from the confines of his briefs.

Alex gasped as Crystal took his steely organ in her fingers and softly stroked it.

Crystal felt demure and petite, nestled against Alex's body but she felt powerful and dominant when Alex mewled as she squeezed the spongy veiny mass and felt it throb in her fingers. Alex broke the kiss and lowered his head to her tiny breasts and lapped at the nipples poking out above the top of her bustier. She wished that she had real breasts for him to suckle but when he used his lips, his tongue and his teeth on her sensitive nubbins, it mattered not; it felt divine.

Crystal was tumescent and her testes had involuntary lowered into her scrotal sac and her penis was uncomfortably trapped against her perineum. She winced and Alex guessed why. He kissed her again and his hand slid along the bodice of her bustier and down between her legs and stroked the front of her satin panties. Crystal shot her hand down there and gripped Alex's wrist; she wasn’t sure she was ready for this but he was persistent and he snaked his hand inside her knickers and tore away the tape keeping her tucked. He gripped her penis as his tongue wriggled in her mouth and she returned the gesture and squeezed his hard cock.

It was the first time Alex had ever touched a transvestite’s penis and he wasn’t sure that he was even going to do it but it was instinctive. He didn’t find it repulsive, her penis was a part of her body, a sensitive organ that gave her pleasure and he didn’t feel bad about stroking it. He delighted in giving her pleasure.

Crystal stroked Alex’s erect penis and returned his kisses and rubbed her leg on his thigh and felt his organ throb and judder, she sensed that he was aching for release.

Alex gently rolled Crystal onto her back and he straddled her, her tiny body underneath his muscled physique. She looked up at him with both fear and adoration knowing what was soon to come. He looked down at her; his gaze expressing his devotion and need for her. He lowered his face to hers and she opened her mouth when he kissed her, she reached up and took his manhood in her hand and squeezed it. She rubbed the shank of it on her thighs, letting him feel the supple slinkiness of her nylon stockings on his aching flesh.

He lay on top of her and pressed his cock against her knickers, her cock trapped inside the silky garment, their cocks rubbing together with only the slippery satin of her knickers between them.

She felt him reach for something on the nightstand and do something to himself between her legs and then she felt his slippery appendage sneak inside her knickers, his finger following, finding her puckered sphincter, massaging cool slippery gel into the wrinkled gland.

Crystal froze. This was it. She was to be deflowered and she was scared.

It was nothing like she imagined and was it everything like she imagined. She yelped when Alex pushed his glans into the spongy furrow of her sphincter. It hurt a little as her tight bud opened to allow Alex's engorged phallus to enter her. She clung to him, her face screwed up in pain, gasping and mewing.

“Shh my darling, the worst is over; relax,” Alex soothed her.

He kissed the tip of her nose and her fluttering eyelashes. She guided his mouth to hers; she wanted to feel his lips, she wanted to feel his tongue and to taste him. She put her arms around his neck and locked her legs around his, clinging to him, impaled on his cock, just the tip of it inside her, burning her like a red hot poker.

They lay like that until the pain slowly became something else, a deep sensuous pleasurable sensation that Crystal could hardly describe but knew that she liked. Her sphincter relaxed and suddenly she wanted more of Alex inside her. She surprised him when Crystal raised her buttocks off the bed and slid more of his cock inside her.

She winced as his bloated manhood stretched her sphincter and distended her anus but the pain soon dissipated and that lovely deep delightful feeling returned and intensified.

Alex kissed her passionately and Crystal returned his kisses. Her cock was tenting her knickers and Alex could feel it pressing on his belly. He slowly pushed the rest of his engorged member inside Crystal until his scrotum rested against her knickered buttocks. Crystal squirmed beneath him and he realised that she was acclimatising herself to his cock.

She lifted her legs higher, clamping them around his waist and pressed her cock against his hard belly and began to fuck him. Crystal had never felt anything so decadent and delightful as Alex’s big bloated penis filling her anus, stretching her sphincter and making it tingle, pressing on her prostate and wrenching delightful rings of pure pleasure from the sensitive gland. Her cock was dribbling pre-ejaculate, saturating the front of her knickers and Alex could feel it on his belly.

He could no longer control himself and Alex pinned Crystal to the bed and began to ravage her. He fucked her hard with brutal strokes and she raised her buttocks off the bed to meet him. She bit his lip and tasted his blood as she felt her anus being battered by Alex’s truncheon-like appendage. The pain merged with the pleasure, intensifying and magnifying the delight that came from deep inside her and radiated up into her throbbing penis.

Alex moaned and kissed Crystal so hard that she could hardly breathe but she didn’t need to. She took all the succour she needed from Alex. He was breathing for them both; the heart hammering in his chest was beating for them both. She was part of him and he was part of her.

He gave Crystal his seed. She felt his penis resonate and quiver as he drove it all the way inside her and ground his pubis against her soft buttocks, she sighed as she surrendered her virtue to the man who, once her captor, had become her lover. Her whole body shook as she climaxed, she flooded her knickers, her scalding semen saturating the satin delicates.

Alex felt Crystal orgasm under him and he kissed her and pinned her beneath him as he drove his cock all the way inside her tight rectum. He felt her anus undulate, milking his spend from his juddering manhood as her cock quivered in her knickers, pressed against his hard belly. He deliberately pushed his belly against her shuddering organ to intensify her pleasure.

Crystal felt utterly feminine and effete lying under the hard-muscled man who was ravaging her with his steely cock but she also felt empowered, knowing that Alex was surrendering himself to her as much as she was giving herself to him.

She whimpered and mewed as her climax slowly diffused but the pleasant feeling of fullness in her anus and the tingling in her sphincter was not extinguished. Alex left his cock inside her as the last of his spend dribbled from it. His frenetic kisses become softer, tender and he stroked her cheek and whispered endearments. He made no move to climb off her and she didn’t want him to.

Crystal lay on her back with her legs loosely draped around Alex’s body, her hands locked behind his neck as she smiled up at him, a lock of his sandy hair partly veiling his blue eyes.

“Did I hurt you?” Alex whispered; genuine concern in his voice.

Their lovemaking was supposed be have been slow, tender and sensitive the first time. He had promised himself that but Crystal was as culpable as he. To his surprise she had turned from a meek kitten into a lioness, expressing her wantonness and her need, causing him to respond commensurately. What was supposed to be kind, affectionate lovemaking had become a desperate fuck.

“No you didn’t. It was wonderful,” Crystal replied, feeling a little guilty about how easily she had turned from a virgin to a vixen.

Now

Alex Prince woke up in Crystal’s bed, the door to her cell was still wide open and Crystal was not in the bed with him nor was she in the bathroom. It was mid-morning and after an evening of passionate lovemaking he had overslept and slept soundly.

He panicked. The love of his life had escaped.

He bounded out of bed, snatching up his mulberry silk bathrobe and put it on has he pounded barefoot up the cellar stairs.

Just as Alex burst through the cellar door at the top of the stairs into the hallway his front door opened and Crystal came inside unbuttoning his London Fog raincoat that she had taken from the hallstand.

“It’s bitterly cold out there, I had to borrow your coat,” she put down her shopping bag and took off the coat and hung it on the hallstand.

Under the coat she was wearing her dark red skirt-suit with the tight pencil skirt with the kick-pleat in back, the hem resting four inches above her knee, matching long-sleeve jacket and white satin blouse under it. The suit was complemented by flesh-toned sheer tights and black high heels.

“I’ve brought coffee and bacon butties. I don’t know about you but I’m starving,” she held out the shopping bag to Alex who looked absolutely flummoxed.

“I’ve made an appointment at the hairdressers to get my hair styled and coloured. I like my wigs but I want to wear my own hair once it’s been coiffed. I’ll keep the wigs for special occasions she said brushing past him.

She stopped briefly and kissed him quickly and then kept going into the kitchen.

Alex followed her into the kitchen and took out the two takeaway coffees and the bacon butties wrapped in greaseproof paper from her shopping bag.

“You came back?” Alex said incredulously.

“Of course. Where else would I go? I came home,” Crystal gave him a wry smile and Alex inhaled her perfume when she kissed him quickly on the cheek.

“But you said home?” Alex was puzzled.

“Well, while you were snoring away last night I thought long and hard about my predicament,” she took off her blazer and walked over to the kitchen table looking at the coffee and sandwiches.

“I don’t want my old life back but I’m not going to live in your cellar to be kept as a plaything,” Crystal snapped the covers off the styrofoam cups being careful with her long nails and handed a coffee to Alex.

She took her own cup, took a sip and unwrapped her bacon butty and took a bite.

“So you have a decision to make,” she said around bread and bacon.

“I live can here with you and work in your antique shop. I can work front of house as a saleswoman and keep your books; I bet they're a mess. I’m not going to be a kept woman,” she finished chewing and took another bite.

“I’m a good salesperson and I’m good at bookwork. Your job will be teaching me about antiques,” she washed down a bite of sandwich with more coffee.

“Are you serious?” Alex was incredibly surprised by Crystal’s proposal.

“You planned everything meticulously darling, except for what would happen if I ever willingly succumbed to your charms. I’m not staying down there in the cellar to be kept like a pet and I’m done with Colin so my proposal seems the most practical solution,” Crystal picked up the other half of her sandwich.

“Unless of course you're ashamed of me and don’t want to be seen with me and just want to keep me as a fuck-puppet which is unacceptable to me,” Crystal drank more coffee.

Alex’s mind was churning over, processing what Crystal had just said and trying to make sense of it. Trying to think if there was any reason it wouldn’t work.

“Your family that will not accept you as you are and all I have is my aunt. I have my own business and my own home. We could make this work,” Alex smiled.

“Well let’s at least give it a try,” Crystal smiled at him and bit into the second half of her sandwich.

“I took the liberty of exploring the house while you slept. I think the armoire will easily fit into our bedroom,” Crystal eyed him over her coffee cup.

“Our bedroom?” Alex raised a brow.

Crystal put down her coffee and the uneaten half of her sandwich took his hand.

“Come upstairs and I’ll show you. After we’ve tried out the bed we can start moving my things,” she smiled at him coquettishly.

Alex followed Crystal upstairs his eyes glued to her buttocks in the tight skirt.

“You keep eating bacon butties you’ll get fat,” he smacked her playfully on the bottom.

“I saw your very well appointed gym down there next to my cell. That will keep me fit. Then of course there other ways of exercising too,” she looked back at him and winked.

One Week Later

It was Friday night and Crystal got dolled up ready for her first night out with Alex. They were going to the Black Sheep to meet Brittany and Wendy. Crystal wanted to surprise her girlfriends and surprised they would be to learn that Crystal was going to live full-time as a woman and had found herself a chap.

But first they were going to the flicks to see a movie and to meet Alex’s aunt and uncle who Alex had told Crystal would not be at all troubled by their relationship. Crystal was nervous. Not nervous about being out in public with Alex, she had been out and about for well over a week now both with and without Alex. She had begun working in his shop and he was teaching her the business while she took care of the front of house. Bargaining with customers was a good way to overcome her inherent shyness.

She was unclockable to most people and those that clocked her mostly treated her respectfully and those who didn’t she ignored. She was nervous about meeting Alex’s only family. She had told Alex that as she fully expected her own mother and father had disowned her when she had told them that she was going to live full time as a woman.

Alex had consoled Crystal but the reality was that she didn’t care. Cutting ties with her family left Crystal free to live her life as she saw fit; unencumbered by anyone except for the man she knew loved and adored her.

They jostled their way through the crowd in the cinema foyer The Spy Who Loved Me had just been released and was popular with the masses. They had driven to The Odeon in Alex’s burnt orange Ford Cortina XLE with the black vinyl roof that Crystal adored. She’d dressed nicely in the same dark red suit she’d worn their first morning together as a couple; the difference being she was wearing her own hair professionally coiffed and coloured.

“Crystal Divine this in my Aunt Maureen,” Alex had a smug smirk on his face as he introduced Crystal to Maureen Cashmore.

Crystal was gobsmacked and stood stock still while the reality of the situation washed over her.

Maureen gave Crystal a wry smile. She spoke in a pleasant Scottish lilt.

“Lovely to see you again my dear and lovely to see you in such good company,” she winked at Crystal and leaned in and kissed her cheek.

“You're wearing my earrings,” was all Crystal could whisper in response.

Maureen Cashmore was in fact wearing the emerald earrings that Crystal's mother had given her.

“I’ll give them back to you after the show dear. I wore them for luck but it’s obvious that Alex no longer needs luck. He has you,” she stepped into Crystal and hugged her.

“Welcome to our little family,” she whispered in Crystal’s ear.

The End

Author's Note: It was a joy to return to my crossdressing roots after writing so many stories about transgender women. I'm glad that Crystal found happiness and I wish her and Alex all the best. Please leave me a comment as I appreciate your candour and it encourages me to write more. I always respond if you send feedback via email and of course I will include candid pictures of myself if requested: Michele's email