As the new year approaches, our heroine faces her new reality. Once in control, but now turned into someone whose purpose is to serve and please her mistress. Dressed up, ready to be paraded and stared at, her body, no longer her own but a symbol of her promise to her mistress. Be warned, This story is dark. I have added all the appropriate tags

Binding Resolutions Chapter 1: A Promise Kept

New Year's Eve had always signified a time for transformation. But what *had* I become? My resolution, my solemn vow that I clung to even now, had plunged me into this startling... metamorphosis. The relentless ticking of the clock taunted the man I once was – robust, attractive, rational – yet who stood here now? This being was all undulating curves and softness, a foreigner wearing my skin.

Staring into the mirror, my eyes *scanned* for traces of my past form. The solid, defined lines had faded, replaced by a form more vulnerable, more naked to the eye. These once dependable shoulders now strained under a different weight. Where powerful arms used to command attention, they now hung, diminished and feeble—a tempting morsel, perhaps once the fancy of women, now reshaped to satisfy the cravings of a different kind of spectator.

Right then Nina called, "Honey, are you ready? The night beckons, and the stage awaits us."

"J'arrive, ma maîtresse," (*"I'm coming, my mistress,"*) I returned weakly, dredging up what remained of my resolve. The transition was nearly complete – the man I knew fading away, his place taken by a fantasy born from desires that were never mine.

I push back with the remnants of my will. Almost there, indeed – one man's exit, another fantasy's entry, scrawled into life by whims I never asked for.

As I walked out the door, I presented myself for her scrutiny, clothed in a skimpy maid's outfit chosen by her, my body's transformation flagrantly on display. Where once my hips stood straight and narrow now arch out boldly, flesh undulating without shame at each motion.

My once inconspicuous nipples now stood out for all to see, grossly enlarged and brazenly pink, pushing through the fabric that might as well have been a cobweb, their swollen state screaming for the rough grip or hungry mouth of any onlooker. Gone was the sculpted torso, now all that hung were these hefty, pliable and oversized mounds, shamelessly swaying, eager to be manhandled, squeezed, and sucked.

"Oui, juste pour elle... et ceux qu'elle choisit," (*"Yes, just for her... and those she chooses,"*), I whispered to myself helplessly, a crimson hue spreading across my cheeks as my nipples, already painfully erect, strained even harder, a mute appeal for the crude touch they have never known but now so desperately craved.

Sandwiched between my trembling thighs, trapped in a pathetic pink plastic thimble and dwarfed by nipples that now usurped its once formidable presence, lay my past pride. The full eight inches that it once was, had become no more than a running joke, a useless, pickled relic, locked away for good. "Yvonne's little *cockette*," as Mistress mockingly christened it, was just that, a tiny symbol of my torment, a debasing chant designed to remind me of what once I was, what I had now become, and what I would continue to be.

Bound to a welded piercing that ran through the middle, any shift caused a sting, ensuring that even the tiniest twitch brought pain. Clearly, this cage wasn't coming off unless someone took a cutter to the metal.

As my gaze clung to the pitiful state of my former manhood, I felt Nina's presence bearing down on me. She sauntered closer, and with a flick of her devilish tongue between crimson lips, unleashed a wolf whistle that pierced the air.

her eyes devouring the sight of my debasement. "Mmm, just perfect for tonight's performance,” she growled, the words dripping with desire as her eyes tore over my flesh, eyeing me like I was just some piece of meat hung out to play with as I stood helplessly, the naked craving to be used and debased outshining any remnants of dignity I have left.

"Je suis votre création... dépravé... le produit de vos caprices, Maîtresse." (*"I am your creation ...depraved...the product of your whims, Mistress."*) I whispered hoarsely, my own body betraying me with arousal at the thought of the humiliation of her parading to me an audience tonight, every stare etching me with disgrace.

"Where are those little earrings? The ones we had made just for this occasion?" she cooed. I knew precisely why she wanted me to wear them. Glistening tokens that would dangle and declare my debasement loudly, without needing a single spoken word.

I teetered over, turning to walk towards the vanity, my five inch stiletto heels clicking and forcing my ass to sway. Each step was a reminder that this was a mocking tribute to the height I once boasted, a painful reminder of the taller man I once was, now just a caricature prancing on command.

But before I could move very much, she caught me by surprise. She was on me, her hands snapping around my neck like a trap, tilting my face upwards, my gaze meeting her fiery eyes. "Not so fast,"

She closed the distance between us quickly, her hands clamping down with intent.” Not so fast," she growled, her approach feral and hungry. With a jerk, she slammed me against her, branding me with a kiss that seared my soul. Her hands were vicious, pinching and pulling at my nipples, as my body convulsed from the pain and pleasure until I was moaning guttural, primal needs. I was just soft, exposed curves for her to play with, to hurt, to tease.

"You're still my only love,” she breathed out, drenched in possessive lust, "My perfect, dirty little fucktoy," she named me, binding me with chains no eye could see - unbreakable, suffocating, and intoxicating. She promised, "...and tonight, everyone gets a front-row seat to experience how deep you've sunk for me." She’d flaunt me like some debauched prize, a sacrificial piece of meat ripe for their pleasure. And I'd cave to her, every damn time, swallowed whole by the twisted joy of belonging entirely to her.

Nina's hold on me was relentless, spinning me like a plaything. With a rough yank, my dress flew up to bare the white panties that were nothing more than a tease over my skin. The fresh tattoo on my lower back, a maid, helpless on her knees, her eyes shimmering and child-like, lost, vulnerable, trapped in ink. And scrawled below her meek submission, the artistic sweep of ‘À votre service’, a permanent testament, etched into my flesh as if to mock the very idea of what I had been.

She then smacked my ass, ‘hard’, rippling through me, my cheeks quivering under her hand. I let out a yelp, a sound that was half protest, half shameful yearning. The sting of the slap was nothing compared to the burning humiliation that flushed through me. It was like she had struck a chord that runs straight to that caged-up ‘nothing’ between my thighs.

"Yvonne," she purred, and there it was, that name. Just a single utterance sending shivers down my spine. Even as the sting bloomed across my butt. It was as though she'd spoken me into existence, my body flushed hot thrill, every shred of my manhood vanishing with the name she claimed me with. My identity becoming more real with every helpless throb of my heartbeat.

My eyes once fierce with ambition now glazed over with wanton surrender."Oui, Maîtresse, je suis à vous, façonnez-moi à l'image de vos désirs obscènes." (*"Yes, Mistress, I am yours, shape me into the image of your obscene desires."*) I breathed out the words, each syllable laced with shameful longing.

"Hush, pet, don't let that tongue wag any more than that pathetic *jouet* you've got there," she teased softly. Her fingers traced the chain, drawing attention to the miniature cage that proved more than sufficient to contain my soft, feminised pebble. A slender thread of humiliation, looped from my pitiful piercing, binding it back between my thighs to a second piercing, nestling in my perineum, "Show gratitude," she demanded, a smirk in her voice, "that I've allowed you to keep your pathetic clit."

Her movements were a ripple of intent as she turned around and lifted her skirt, unveiling the smooth, naked, and voluptuous cheeks of her backside as if gift-wrapped in sin. Her fingers spreading her back apart, her tight, unblemished ring seemed to beckon me, whispering of forbidden pleasures long denied.

In the shadow between her thighs lingered a glimpse of her pink lips, denied to me for months now and just beyond reach. My lips hungered for them, thirsted for the taste I hadn't savoured in an eternity of torment. But obedience was my only option and my role was clear. To worship at the rear of the temple I'd been exiled from. Dropping to my knees, I settled into my ritual, crawling, like a bitch in heat, I buried my face between her. My tongue lapping at her puckered rosebud with abandon.

Gripping my hair like a leash, she commanded me as she pushed me in further, "Trace the drips along my thigh, feel every drop that you've been missing," she commanded. I complied, tracing the path of her essence, slick with desire, my own torment audible in every slurp. "Pour your desperation into your tongue. Show me the depth of your longing," she taunted, thrusting against me.

My tongue worked her ceaselessly, my mind transported to times past—times when our roles were reversed, her moans fueling my dominance. "Harder. make every lap count slave. Lust for it like it's your last morsel of me," she demanded. "Impress me enough, and perhaps you'll partake in my special blend later tonight."

Her thighs clenching with a telltale shudder, I felt Mistress's body on the brink of succumbing to the wave I'd diligently invoked with my tongue. Yet just as I tasted the crescendo of her pleasure building, she yanked my head back, her voice a mix of cruel delight and authoritative steel, "Not yet, pet. The night is still young and we have a lot more... things... to do." Her words left me aching, pulsing with need. ‘Si proche, j'ai presque fait venir ma maîtresse,’ (*’So close, I almost made my mistress come.’*) my thoughts churned with longing from the echo of her denial.

The ringing bell broke the spell, pulling me out of my carnal trance. Mistress adjusting her dress while turning to face me, twirled her finger, telling me everything I needed to know. Turning, I bared my ass,offering up my flesh to her whims. And then she punctuated her demand with a firm slap to my behind, drawing out a moan from me .

"You're almost there, almost fulfilling the terms of your resolution to perfection.” she mused loudly, her voice threaded with a wistful nostalgia. A delicate yank on my chain sent a sharp bolt of pain and pleasure through me, wrenching a high-pitched whimper from my constricted throat. "And, I must confess, right now, you're far more appealing to me this way; helpless, quivering, so pitifully small, and entirely at my mercy.”

"And make sure that you make quite the spectacle of bending over tonight," she instructed, her tone laced with the intent of showcasing her claim." I want them all to see that fuckable, round, plump bottom of yours. And by the end, I intend to have it red and ripe before the real party even starts," she declared, sealing my fate with her clear intent. "Now scamper, go and welcome our first guest, " she commanded, and scamper i did.

The door creaked open to admit the arrival of Jacob, my former boss, who might as well write my future checks. Ten years my senior, with a pot belly that he'd apparently laboured over and a hairline in full retreat, he carried the smugness of a man who believed he was far more charming than nature had allowed.

Generously, he'd granted me a year to sort out my 'delicate condition'—a sabbatical from the numbers and spreadsheets that once formed my daily grind. I knew his charity wasn't free; it was drenched in desire for Nina, a lust that gnawed at him, unable to understand how she ended up with someone like the old me.

Jacob had become a regular shadow at our doorway, claiming a concern for my welfare, but it was no secret his visits were truly aimed at undressing Nina with his lecherous gaze. Just days ago, he dangled the carrot of employment again, telling me the accounting department would somehow survive without me but his own personal secretary's position was conveniently vacant—a position that promised 'intimacy' and a paycheck that would only remind me of my diminished worth.

Two weeks past, I'd seen him drop Nina home late at night, her sultry form poured into one of those dresses that screamed sin, her stride unsteady, lips a smear of red. I dared to question her as she stumbled in, "Maîtresse, est-ce que vous couchez avec lui?" (*"Mistress, are you sleeping with him?"*). Her laughter rang dismissive and clear, as if the thought was too absurd, "No” she answered with a derisive laugh, yet as she moved away, I caught something—a hushed breath that carried the faintest trace of words: "not yet...", and it landed like a cold weight in my stomach as she vanished into our once sacred bedroom.

As he approached, I dipped into the deepest of curtsies, my bare breasts hanging down invitingly, my embarrassment evident in my flushed cheeks. "Nina, looks like your little French slut cleaned up good and proper - look at her, all tarted up and begging for it. " Jacob sneered, his gaze raking over me with undisguised crudeness, as his fingers gripped my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his.

Forbidden from speech, and forbidden from refusal by my Mistress's order prior, I couldn't utter a word or reject any advance made upon me.With my heart hammering in my chest, I could only gasp inwardly as he abused the oversized and blushingly conspicuous nipples that jutted capped my breasts, now swollen and achingly receptive to his crude touch. As he continued to squeeze and twist, he leaned close and whispered into my ear, oozing contempt. “Bet it burns, huh, realising you ain’t nothing but pathetic now?, whimpering while a real man takes control of the woman you could never truly satisfy. Soon enough, you’ll be begging me to ravage her, ravage you both.”

Clearly, Mistress had caught every word, her gaze flashed with unspoken understanding as she witnessed my complete debasement for her. I stood there, utterly at her mercy, gnawed by the thought of losing her to this pig. My strength had drained away, and I feared everything I'd endured would mean nothing if he staked his claim on her.

But as just as he desired, with my voice quivering, I spoke, "Je m’incline devant vous, prête à servir dans la maison de la Maîtresse, *vaurien*." (*"I yield to you, eagerly waiting to serve in the Mistress’s abode, bastard."*)

A brief touch of real amusement flickered across Mistress's face before she adopted the expected placid smile, though I caught the fleeting sincerity.

Clearly, the brute did not understand a word and looked towards her, "What'd she say?"

"She's thrilled, can't wait," Mistress countered coolly. "Now, relax, make yourself comfortable dear, while I shove some last-minute instructions into the help. “ Mistress said.

As the brute lumbered off, she spun me, coquettish malice sparkling in her eyes. “No missteps, my pet. Attempting to ‘rise to the occasion’, don't amuse yourself with such fancies. Your slightest whimper of dissent, no matter how ‘tiny,’ will not be tolerated." She emphasised, each word as her fingers yanked my little clitty upwards, the surge of pain mingling with the shameful pleasure of reprimand, as I let out a choked sob. Defeated, yet desirous, I responded, "Oui, Maîtresse… comme vous le désirez." (*"Yes, Mistress… as you desire."*) As her grasp relented, the pain faded into a lingering ache, a prelude to what the night might bring.

As we made our way towards the bedroom, Mistress laid out her command with absolute certainty. "In my home today, he's not just a guest; he's royalty. You will serve him, or anyone I command you to. No questioning, no hesitating." However, your little show of insolence just now gives me an idea.

"Now, walk with me," she instructed, and I acquiesced, my steps a shadow of her own confident strides.

Midway, she turned, her gaze capturing me like a trap. "Tell me, how do I look?" In my distraction, I had forgotten to drench her in the adoration she rightfully deserved.

As I took her in, my throat turned to sand and my heart stuttered in its cage.

Her dress clung to her like sin made fabric, a brazen fuck-you to modesty. Barely there strips, like a black whisper snaking over her, lusting to peel away and leave nothing to the imagination.

Each curve of her body was a siren's call, her ample chest pushed up, nipples pronounced, boldly defying decency, a blatant tease of flesh begging for attention.

Her waist, nipped in by the black strips, partitioned her waist before blooming into the lush, seeking curves of her hips.

The dress, if it could even be called that, skirted just above the edges of her thighs, promising glimpses of the secrets that hid just beneath, her movements an open dare to witness more.

It was a masterclass in erotic display, her choice of dress—or the lack thereof—crafted solely to ensnare the senses and seize control of every lustful thought. She was a vision dipped in the very essence of desire, bare skin barely concealed, pure temptation on two legs.

Each choice was a deliberate act, her body the weapon and there was no subtlety in her allure. A living embodiment of every deep-seated craving that spoke of late-night whispers and early-morning regrets.

As my mind fumbled for language, The Mistress and I entered the seclusion of the bedroom. Without a hint of ceremony, she seized my hand, pressing it against the naked, moist evidence of her arousal beneath her dress. It was then that the raw deprivation hit me; I had been denied even feeling her intimate heat for months, and the sudden touch sent tremors of craving in me,

"Make sure this... my excitement endures," she demanded, each word saturated with entitlement. "Whenever, and for however long I wish it," she added, her eyes cutting through me with a brazen challenge, "And if my desires extend beyond you, be ready to witness and to serve whoever can fulfil them..."

Over there, bend across the nightstand," she ordered, her grip on me unrelenting, shoving me forward. "Panties off; they'll serve you no purpose tonight," she stated. Her declaration was absolute, and I shed my last veil obediently, the scant fabric pooling at my feet.

“I’ll be back for you, stud," she announced to Jacob who was seated outside, her voice dripping with a sultry promise, a deliberate jab to my confined state.

Her dig through the closet was swift, a predator rummaging for the perfect tool of torture. "Stand still, not a whisper," she ordered, and I was an obedient statue. It didn't take long before I heard the triumph in her husky murmur, "Ah, there it is," as she turned to face me, her prey, exposed and ripe.

"You neglected to compliment me," she all but purred, her mocking tone a velvet threat. "I'll need recompense... but first, spill it." her words dripped venom sweeter than honey.

she hissed, voice thick with a teasing cruelty. "Age of honesty—what do you yearn to do with my body? Pathetically though, you're no longer the 'man' for the job, and you've been barred from the garden. So...." she paused, letting the moment marinate in my mind.

"Tell me instead about the vigorous bull who'd rightfully claim me while you stand there, witnessing, and yearning. Choke on your helpless jealousy, speak of his virility, and don't you dare omit a thing, while I make you nice and ready, with this pretty little piece for everyone to see you in tonight."

As the intrusion set into me, she paused, savouring her control. Confess! She demanded. My thoughts reeled, tangled in English, but only fractured French could leave my lips.

With hesitancy, I began the debasing narrative. "Un autre homme... dans notre—non, votre lit," (*"Another man... in our—no, your bed,"*) I corrected myself under her spell.

“Doing what? choose your words wisely.” she asked, seeking details, hungry for the depiction of her own mastery over a different suitor.

My reply spilled out, painting the disgraceful picture, "Il vous baiserait farouchement, sa queue énorme vous écartelant, et vous, hurlez votre reddition alors qu’il vous prend sans relâche, comme une salope en chaleur." (*"He'd fuck you fiercely, his enormous cock stretching you wide, and you, bellowing your submission as he takes you relentlessly, like a bitch in heat."*) each word tripping over the last, betraying a power I had once wielded.

"And my moans, Yvonne, for whom would they be? Her voice was pointed, cutting, demanding acknowledgment of her power to elicit such sounds.

"Pour lui seul," (*"For him alone,"*) I admitted, the truth of my subservience and shattered reality laid bare.

"He would lay claim to me?" The hint of her triumph demanded my confirmation.

"Oui, madame..." (*"Yes, madame..."*) I murmured, the acknowledgement barely a whisper.

"The way you used to?" Her cruel glee painted words with the memories of our past.

"Oui, madame..." The words slipped out again, echoing my helpless state.

"Tell me how he'd use my body; hours on end," she growled.

But I could only respond in the tongue of my subjugation, "Il vous baiserait pendant des heures, chaque cri serait une prière à sa puissance." (*"He would ravage you for hours, each scream a testament to his strength."*)

Her command hit me like a slap, "Tell me, how would I get on my knees for my real man, every single day?"

My throat tightened as I spit out the crude image "Prends sa queue en toi, baise-la avec ta bouche, sens tes joues s'engorger de sa virilité inépuisable. Tu es là, jouant avec ton clitoris, implorante, voulant qu'il se vide en toi, que son explosion comble le vide dans ta bouche désespérée." (*"Take his cock inside you, fuck it with your mouth, feel your cheeks swell with his inexhaustible manhood. There you are, playing with your clit, beseeching, wanting him to empty himself into you, let his explosion fill the emptiness in your desperate mouth."*)

Her query was venomous. "And you, my little slut, what's your role? you're are there remember?"

Choking on the stark reality, I barely uttered, "Je serais là, à vous regarder, prête à lécher, à nettoyer, à être utilisée..." (*"I would be there, watching you, ready to lick, to clean, to be used..."*)

"And my man?" she pressed, expecting more than my hesitant reverence.

A pause, heavy with the dawning of my purpose, I whispered, "Lui aussi, je le servirais..." (*"Him too, I would serve..."*) My hesitancy indicating my coerced consent.

“No, Yvonne, you'll eagerly welcome him, zealously suck off the man who makes your mistress his. Aching to be fucked raw just like me. Begging while crawling on fours, lusting for it, forever marked, available anytime for his delight or to mop up what he leaves behind. Existing entirely for my approval and his gratification.”

With that, her final thrust was merciless, burying the intruder to its base in one smooth motion, making me gasp with the shock of being so full. and the air I gasped was tinged with the reality of being her pleasure object, nothing more than her lewd plaything.

With that, her final thrust deep to the hilt, I gasped as the sudden intrusion filled me. A cruel affirmation of my debasement and my status as a plaything for her deviant delights.

The chime of the bell snapped us back to the reality of the night ahead. With a cruel spank to my behind that sent the plug deeper, Mistress signalled it was time to face the party. Standing was a trial, walking a torment; each step I took was challenged by the device tormenting me from within.

"Actually, put those panties back on. They've got some unfinished business," she remarked, eyeing me expectantly.

"Comme vous voulez, Maîtresse," (*"As you wish, Mistress,"*) my voice just a breath as I eased the delicate white lace over my thighs, feeling it press against the plug that she claimed me with.

She then strutted out, her body a walking promise, knowing each hungry eye would feast on her curves tonight. I shuffled behind, the fullness in my behind mocking my strides, my own body on obscene display in this submissive outfit.

We entered the fray – her untouchable, me laid bare. She was a deity in that space, and I, merely her offering, twitching with every step reminding me of my place beneath her.

Yvonne's evening descends into a carnal savagery where the hedonistic fantasies of onlookers are not just met but encouraged. She is simply a vessel for gratification for the crowd, an emblem of her solemn vow to her ever-demanding mistress. Adorned in attire that barely conceals, she is marched out before hungry eyes, every inch of her transformation a testimony to her submission. Be forewarned: this chapter treads through shadowed corridors, filled with explicit scenes and raw exchanges that may unsettle the faint of heart.

**Personal Request and Trigger Warning for Chapter 2**: Please be advised that the following chapter contains material of a very dark and explicit nature, exploring themes of extreme power dynamics, enforced submission, and explicit sexual content. It is intended for a mature audience and is not suitable for all readers. If such topics are likely to cause distress or are not to your taste, it may be best to refrain from reading further. Reader discretion is strongly advised as we continue this harrowing journey into the abyss of absolute surrender.

Chapter1 can be found here: Binding Resolutions Chapter 1: A Promise Kept

Chapter 2: Lost in Submission

Transformed, the once stately mansion by the cliffside now teemed with raw flesh, no longer shielding its secrets from the deep blue of the ocean's gaze.

The mansion had turned into a den of depravity, miles from its serene, oceanside elegance. Every inch of the lush cliffside estate screamed of the sexual frenzy that my own wealth, now signed away, afforded. It was a smut fest, drenched in carnality, alive with voracious appetites, indulged under a black velvet sky.

By the moonlit pool's edge, the New Year's bash was a sinful showcase with fuck-hungry bodies contorted in pleasure. Strings of low-hanging lights cast a permissive glow, making every jutting nipple and bobbing cock a star in the night's filthy parade.

Lounge chairs, once meant for idle sun-basking, now bore the weight of screwing couples. One woman, it was almost obscene how her ample ass devoured the cock behind her, each plunge met by her moans that spiced the salty evening air.

The air was so thick with the stank of screwing, it clung to me like a second skin. There I was, a peep show dolled up in frills, tits bouncing with every step as I served the drinks. My role was now a living, breathing ode to all that I was witnessing.

In my periphery, the unmistakable figure of Dr. Michelle, typically the vision of professional poise, was on all fours upon the dewy grass, body bent and offered up. The stud behind her drove into her like she was just ripe for his picking."Having fun watching, Yvonne?" her voice dripped with ridicule, the irony not lost on my captive gaze.

To my shame, my gaze lingered a little too long, drinking in the sight of her wanton unbecoming, before reluctantly tearing away.

Not a stone's throw away, Helen, the Mistress' sister, was the centrepiece of her own carnal theatre. Spread over a silk-draped cabana, legs wide and high for the stud fucking her into bliss. She saw me, and with a lustful leer, called me over. As I neared her to take her instructions, with a forceful grab, she pulled me up next to her, her grip on my wrist rigid. I was propped to watch, helpless. "Watch and learn, Yvonne. You'll get used to it." The promise in her twisted smirk was clear—this would be me.

The night was no celebration of time—it was an unabashed worship of sex. The music drowned us, a perverse lullaby cradling the writhing masses. We were all adrift in this sea of sin—a communion in the flesh, the old year dying in the throes of lewd rebirth.

I threaded my way through the labyrinth of bodies, continuing to serve, continuing to watch helplessly my breath hitched as I stumbled upon Mike.

Before I knew it, his arm shot out, snatching me with a growl, pulling me towards the couch where Annabelle perched atop him, impaled on his dick. A wife to one but a whore to another, she pounded onto him with lascivious fervour. Her husband, oblivious, sprawled out not too far from where she bounced upon Mike—the drug she'd likely slipped into his drink enabling her brazen betrayal.

Pulled down onto the couch, my flesh pressed against their hot, writhing bodies. Annabelle rode him unhurried, gyrating as her breasts, a touch smaller than what mine had morphed into, rose and fell in rhythm to her movements.

Mike harshly pulled my top aside, exposing my hefty, soft breast, the nipple now painfully swollen, vividly pink, and shamefully ripe. Compared to what Annabelle carried, what I sported were much more purpose bound. "Les seins d'une chienne," (*"The tits of a bitch, "*) I thought, eyes wide, as blood rushed to my cheeks in mortification.

"Cry for me, Yvonne, let's see if your tits do your weeping," Mike mocked, latching onto my nipple with a ferocity that extracted not tears but a gasp of raw pleasure. It was the first time that a man had claimed my breasts, imprinting the sense of their true purpose onto my psyche.

I realised then, with a clarity that ravaged my remnants of dignity, I existed for the abuse. To be bent to perversion's whims, manhandled, desecrated, and ultimately left painted with the marks of someone else's hunger. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide — just a raw twitching mess, my body betraying me with spasmodic jerks, surrendering to the base moans torn from the depths of my being. Heat streaking across my face in a flush of shame.

"Pity your Mistress put a lock on the real goodies until she gives the green light," Mike groaned and went back to sucking my oversensitive nub, leaving me bucking against the cage latched 'round my shrivelled little ‘cockette’, which twitched and ached, desperate for a relief that wasn't coming.

"Oui, Maître. Utilisez-moi comme vous voulez—après le feu vert de la Maîtresse, je suis toute à vous," I conceded, voicing my own objectification. (*"Yes, Master. Use me as you will—after Mistress says so, I’m all yours,"*) slipped from my lips, each word shivering with a wretched cocktail of shame and forbidden hunger as Mike's mouth worked over my swollen nipple.

Annabelle's taunt sliced through the fog of my pained arousal, "Let's face it, you were just a sorry excuse for a man, weren't you? How you convinced Nina is beyond me. Even now, she's withholding... but not from Jacob. He's playing his cards right; maybe she'll be his New Year's conquest."

I wanted to shrink away, disappear, but her words were like barbs hooking into my flesh, tearing open a fresh wound each time. It baffled me—why did these women find Jacob enticing?

The man was nothing next to Mistress’ magnetism or even who I had once been—a version of myself that was athletic and appealing. What twisted fate had led me to this—to become something so abjectly helpless? This question gnawed at my essence, the torture sharpened as it mingled with the torment of feeling invisible needles piercing my exposed essence.

Annabelle and her crowd found some magnetic draw to him that was torturous to contemplate. The only response I could muster was a string of moans punctuated by tormented breaths, steeped in the heat of the moment and the torment it brought.

The enigma of Mistress withholding her favours from the night's revelry perplexed me, her beauty unclaimed. I felt the burn of knowing that Jacob, a man with a middling presence when I once stood proud and virile, a slow torture that unravelled me from within. The sting of understanding a game in which I was the losing player seared through me.

As I tried to wriggle free from the harsh clutch, Mike held fast, an unyielding trap that had me stuck and stewing in a cesspool of self-loathing and lust, making me bear witness to the raunchy spectacle laid out in front of me. It was once my realm, no, now it was Mistress’ kingdom, and I was naught but a quivering plaything, with a desperate wail that came unbidden.

"Je ne suis pas l'homme pour la Maîtresse, elle se laissera emporter par celui qu'elle désire..." (*"I am no man for the Mistress, she will be swept away by the one she desires..."*)

Mike leaned in close, his hot breath fanning across my ear, his words a vulgar promise. "That's right and I can't wait to give you a proper fucking when that happens, you little slut."

It felt as if my mind fractured, yielding completely to the inevitability of my fate, birthing a mute entreaty in the dark alcove of my psyche.’Oui... il est inévitable …’ (‘Yes... it's inevitable …’)

That is when I noticed him looking at us from a distance. Jacob's hawk-like gaze fixed on me with predatory focus as I writhed under Mike's rough handling, his intent to intervene clear as day. He strode towards us with purpose, an angry glint in his eye as though he'd been robbed of administering my discipline first.

Mike, the bigger man, had been engrossed in his lewd occupation with my body but seemed unaware of Jacob's approach. I watched, helpless, as the larger man was unanticipatedly shoved aside. Mike, usually unyielding, surprisingly offered no resistance against the pig’s show of dominance. There was an undercurrent of complicity that I couldn't fathom.

With Mike displaced, Jacob, his fingers, talon-like, dug into my arms, trapping them behind me with the authority of ownership. The shock of his aggression left me momentarily dazed, and I was the deer within the grasp of a raptor, and I was truly terrified. No arousal, no shame, just fear.

“You are what I made you to be, you stupid little tramp,” he snarled in slow, deliberate English as he bent me over, a perverse glee in his execution. “Today, I’m finishing what I started—right here, right in front of you, in front of everybody. But first, you gotta be punished. You are not supposed to enjoy any of this.” His words were like a slap, stripping away any remnants of my pride, leaving me exposed and vulnerable.

In a heartbeat, he was on me, grabbing me with iron-hard hands. He dragged me like a rag doll over to the couch, throwing me down across his lap with a thud that forced the air from my lungs. I was panting, scared, glaring up just in time to see the Mistress’ sharp, predatory focus, hungry for the show.

Jacob's booze-soaked breath was hot on my neck, his voice gruff and rank with command. "Let's crank this up. Beg her now, bitch. Beg her with your hole to take me. To let me use her." I looked helplessly at the Mistress and she simply smiled letting me know that she wanted this.

His palm smacked down hard. "One."

"il peut vous posséder comme j'en ai jamais été capable." (*"Please, Mistress, take him, he can possess you in ways I never could. "*) I blurted, the first lash sending a jolt straight to my core, forcing tears from my eyes.

He hoisted his hand back up, the sound of the second hit echoing through me. "Two."

"Offrez-vous à lui, madame, laissez-le vous conquérir, corps et âme." (*"Offer yourself to him, Mistress, let him conquer you, body and soul, "*) my voice broke, the heat from my ass radiating through my entire body.

"Three."

With each passing moment, each searing spank, I painted the lurid image for the Mistress, invoking the raw power that Jacob wielded, a power that could make her succumb in ways that would render my own attempts a mere memory.

"À genoux, madame, pour cet homme, le seul capable de vous dominer complètement, de vous emmener aux sommets de l'extase..." (*"On your knees, Mistress, for this man, the only one who can truly dominate you, who can take you to the heights of ecstasy... "*) I choked out, breathless, humiliated.

"Four."

By the fourth, I was barely holding on, my throat raw as I spoke my bitter surrender.

"Pliez-vous pour lui, madame, offrez-lui ce que vous ne m'offrirez jamais, laissez-le explorer les profondeurs de votre désir..." (*"Bend over for him, Mistress, offer him what you will never grant me, let him delve into the depths of your desire..."*)

He paused, holding my chin, forcing me to look at Mistress as he geared up for the final humiliation.

"Five."

The last hit landed with a brutal thud, and I was winded, defeated.

"Madame, je reconnais que je n'ai jamais été à la hauteur, que vous n'auriez jamais dû me donner votre amour..." (*"Mistress, I acknowledge I was never good enough, you should have never wasted your love on me... "*) I whimpered, resigned to the fact, my place was crystal clear.

As the confession clawed its way out, raw and bleeding. For a moment, just a flash, Mistress' cruel smirk faltered, flickered into something almost human—sympathy? Pity? It vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving nothing but the hungry glint I knew so well.

I was nothing but a plaything, a spectacle, and beneath their joint gaze, I dissolved into the role they designed for me—Yvonne, the broken, the beggar, the bitch in heat for a discipline in denial.

Flushed with a heat that could scorch, the Mistress painted the room with her bare lust.

She glided toward Jacob, every movement dripping with a defiant promise of pleasure. With a casual flick, he flung me to the ground, a toy spent and rejected. Held captive by the scene, I watched them collide in a raw clash of lips and limbs. Mistress fed her breasts to Jacob’s roughened grip, their kiss a ravenous maw of longing and claim.

Then, in a brazen display, her fingers dipped beneath her skirt, emerging glistening—proof of her arousal. She found my mouth with those slick digits, and I complied, no command needed. My sobs and her nectar, long denied to me, commingled on my tongue, an intimate concoction I couldn't reject.

Mistress pressed for words, her voice soft but edged with command. “What do you say now, Yvonne? And don't you dare mumble.”

Choking on her scent, on the truth of my place in her world, I steeled myself. “Merci, madame,"(*"Thank you, Mistress,") I gasped, her flavor overwhelming, "de m'offrir ce goût, c'est tout ce que je peux avoir.” (*"for allowing me this taste, it's all I'm allowed to have."*)

Mistress' laugh was a dark melody, her eyes glinting with a predatory glee. "Don't worry, my little doll, you'll have plenty more—new ‘cocktails’ to lap up from me. Next time, I promise that it will be… saltier," she promised, her voice a seductive growl that flirted with the edge of cruelty.

And with the smug assurance of a queen, she twisted in Jacob's lap, her lips finding his once more in a carnal promise, sealing the moment with a kiss that spoke volumes, her hand deftly exploring within his pants. Left alone with the remnants of her desire coating my palate, I knelt in silence, my surrender complete.

As Jacob's hands itched to rip her dress up and bare it all, Mistress caught his wrist, her command absolute. She picked up her glass and stood, one hand still teasing the bulge in Jacob's pants, commanding the room with her presence.

Glasses clinked like chains as she beckoned me to the centre of the room — the stage for my unveiling. Mistress laid out her thanks like cards on the table: to Dr. Michelle for cooking up the hormone cocktail that softened my edges; to Lady Lynn for refining me into the docile maid I'd become; and to Jacob, for reinforcing how truly pitiful I was as a man... as her man.

With the ceremony of a high priestess, she lifted her glass. "Yvonne, ma chère," she directed me with a velvet voice that hid the steel beneath,”lift your skirt, panties off as well”

I with the obedience of a damned soul, hiked up my skirt, sliding the sheer fabric of my panties down, baring my desecrated form. The sight of the metal cage imprisoning my clittie tinkled a mocking chorus. Mistress' smile was victorious and cruel.

"Spread the view, love. No modesty left here, is there? Flaunt what is dangling beneath your laughable 'clit'," she urged with a venomous sweetness.

Stifling tears, I lifted the merciless chain for all to witness—the stark nudity of my castration laid bare for their perverse pleasure.

Mistress, with theatrical glee, announced, walking towards my trembling form. "Yvonne has surrendered the final remnants of her pitiful manhood." Then, touching the earring that dangled from my lobe with a flourish, she added, "Her little balls? They jingle here now, golden mementos for all to admire."

She cast a sweeping gaze around the room. "After our cheer, feel free to inspect our little eunuch up close."

Her attention snapped back to Jacob, her voice a resonant purr. "Yvonne, crawl to him, plead with him, unzip him. Suck him. Feast on your first taste of a real man."

Before I could summon the ghost of defiance, Mistress added, a sickly-sweet afterthought piercing through, "Do it with zeal, my love."

Every ounce of me screamed to resist, but with "my love" lingering in the air, I was snared. Mistress' words, a binding spell, her will, my shackling command.

Dragged down by chains of defeat inside me, I crawled on my knees toward Jacob. My very audible pleas scraping the bottom of my swallowed pride.

With resignation staining my soul, I crawled on my knees to Jacob.

Each move was a silent plea, “S'il vous plaît, monsieur, permettez-moi de vous servir avec enthousiasme avant que vous puissiez avoir ma femme." (*"Please, sir, allow me to service you enthusiastically before you enjoy my wife. "*)

“S'il vous plaît, monsieur, laissez-moi polir votre queue avec ma bouche," (*"Please, sir, allow me to polish your cock with my mouth, "*) I pleaded, my voice a barely-contained whimper leaking through parched lips.

The rough carpet burned against my skin as I inched closer to him, the distance a marathon of humiliation. "S'il vous plaît, servez-vous de ma bouche comme d'un trou chaud pour votre plaisir," (*"Please, use my mouth like a warm hole for your pleasure, "*) my words dripped in perverse reverence, a mantra of my own degradation.

My hands trembled as they hovered near his lap, my breaths short, sharp, laced with the acrid tang of fear and want. "S'il vous plaît, je veux être empalée sur votre bite, la sentir au fond de ma gorge," (*"Please, I want to be impaled on your dick, feel it in the back of my throat, "*) I choked out, the image of my own submission reflected in his darkening gaze.

I reached him, my plea now a fervent gasp. "S'il vous plaît, monsieur, remplissez-moi, utilisez-moi jusqu'à ce que je sois juste un gâchis dégoulinant," (*"Please, sir, fill me up, use me until I'm just a dripping mess, "*) my face hovered inches from his crotch, hot breath begging through the fabric separating us.

With a mixed curse of eagerness and self-loathing, I unzipped him. My final surrender was a silken whisper. "S'il vous plaît, montrez-moi que je ne suis rien sans votre queue," (*"Please, show me that I'm nothing without your cock, "*) my voice broke, staining my tongue with the metallic taste of defeat.

Mistress' hushed words, "my love," were both a caress and a brand – the duality of love and possession melding into my dawning reality. As I peeled back the zipper, giving in to her spell, I was acutely aware of every eye upon me. Her voice was the crack of a whip, her words the fetters that bound my soul to this relentless craving for shame.

As I continued to tug the zipper down, expectation hung thick in the air, a perverse invitation to the end of who I was. But there, staring back at me was the final joke – he was smaller than I'd ever been. Yet his cocky grin told a different story; he might as well have been a giant the way he leered at me, his eyes glazed with the raw hunger of ownership.

I wrapped my lips around him, the salty, skin-like tang hitting my tongue – nothing to brag about. The irony was a slap; I used to be bigger. Now here I was, taking him into my mouth, my identity dissolving with every taste of his mediocrity. ’Cette bite est délicieuse,’ (*’This cock is delicious,’*) I repeatedly lied to myself, the affirmation a twisted attempt to find some shred of enjoyment in my disgrace.

Without warning, his grip found my hair, his hold merciless as he forced me down on him. I gagged, my eyes watering as I was invaded, ruthlessly deep-throated by what I should have considered pitiable. "Yeah, that's it, you little whore. Keep it up," his voice rasped, a perverse praise.

My eyes stung, tears streaking down my face, yet I persisted, servicing him, degrading myself for the audience of the one who'd orchestrated my fall from grace. "Work for it like your Nina is going to work for it later. Get hungry for it,” he hissed, every word a command wrapped in vitriol.

Tears streamed down, mingling with the spit on my chin as I forced my mind back, back when she was on her knees for me. She was a natural, worshipping me, making me swell in bliss. Now, it was my turn, to dredge those memories and replicate that hunger, that devotion. 'Fais-le avec conviction... sois la garce avide de bite que tu ne peux nier être.' (*'Do it with conviction... be the dick-hungry wench you can't deny being.'*) I muttered in my head, a mantra to spur me on despite the shame.

I dove into my work. My lips, once proud and firm, were now soft and yielding, a haven for his mediocre meat. Each bob of my head was exaggerated, theatrical, a masterclass in the vulgar art I'd descended into. Compelled by Mistress' orders, by the fractured shards of longing that still pierced my chest, I sucked him like my life depended on it.

My lips were wrapped around Jacob’s manhood, working in desperate, forced rhythm, while my Mistress, my tormentor, my goddess—sang praise to her conspirators in my emasculation. Above the wet, choking sounds filling the air, I caught the sugar poison of Mistress' gratitude. “Shout out to Dr. Michelle for juicing Yvonne up with enough femme-fuel to shrivel her assets. Took no time to bob those bits from man to mouse.”

Dr. Michelle’s voice slinked back,all thick “Fuck me harder!” Revelling in her pounding, and oily with triumph “Pumping that—Nngh—primed canvas with Estro-max, Ooh God, yes, was a—Shove it in, you bastard!—a delight," her moans punctuating her claim. "Those balls, heh, went from—Ahh, yes!—grapes to—Ugh—raisins to gone. Even had—Mmm, that's it!—a decent piece between his legs once, you know? But now?—Aghh—Just a wink of flesh now—Ahh, fuck!—barely there, barely anything. A whisper where—Oh, fuck yes!—where a shout used to be."

Mistress' cackle was a bell toll in my hollowed chest, each chime a mockery of the flesh and pride I had once held. “Now my good Doctor, tell us, how did you like playing God with his raisin pouch?”

“Oh, Nina," Michelle's voice cut across the distance, strained as she was clearly feeling another thrust, "His bits were hardly—Ahh, God!—worth the name by the time the meds were done with their job. A quick cut, and—*Damn it, right there!*—voilà—nothing left but a—*Mmm, fuck!*—nice neat little nubbin. Just an exquisite—*Ahh shit, yes!*—little dimple that once dreamed it was a—*Ugh!*—a dick."

"Yvonne's such a—*Oh fuck!*—good girl now, isn't she? *Drive it deeper, you bastard!* Isn't that—*Ugh!*—right, doll?" she taunted at me, the sadistic joy thick in her voice. "Just thinking about it—*Oh, fuck me!*—Yvonne, legs spread wide, cut without—*Ahh, damn!*—anaesthesia, squealing in—*Ahh, yeah!*—in pain ... Shit, it makes me—*Mmm, fuck!*—it makes me so damn hot!"

Her voice grew manic, each curse word wrapped around the rhythm set by the person hammering into her, enthralled by the memories. "Such a sweet, clean slice—*Ahhhhh, FUCK!*—and the way you—*Yes!*—you bled for us, Yvonne, that's it—*Ohh, I'm gonna... I'm...*"

Her already loud cries escalated into a torrent of profanity as climax gripped her. "*AHHH, THAT'S IT!* Think back, Yvonne! The fucking slice—how it felt, your little balls getting chopped off, —*Ughhhh!*—our perfect, ball-less bitch! Oh, the reality was so much filthier, so much more satisfying—*AHHH, FUCK YEAH!* than any fantasy I had of fucking your old self in the past. Now I'm cumming—*AHHHH, CUMMING HARD!* Revel in the memory, Yvonne! *FUCK, YES!* Your pain, your loss, it's my…. *AHHHH, LOSING MY FUCKING MIND HERE, CUMMING SO FUCKING HARD!*"

“Hear that Yvonne, but don't you dare stop” Mistress' voice, a purring blade, kept weaving its spell of humiliation through me as I remained impaled on her design, my mouth stuffed full by the force of her will which, at that moment, tasted a whole lot like Jacob.

Mistress tossed her fiery gaze my way, my eyes looking at her while I continued to bob up and down , her voice dripping with raw promise. "Big shout-out to Lady Lynn for her 'special touch' with our pet here," she cooed, venomous honey in every syllable. "She's got Yvonne so tightly wound up, the poor slut's swimming in endless heat, but never getting off. Never coming. Just aching." She took a sip of her drink as she glanced at me and back to the crowd. "The devious butt plug training and wicked hypnosis sessions have left her squirming, trained to spill nothing but desperate yearning.” She said, her words laced with acid sweetness. The room erupted, laughter snaking around like tendrils looking for prey.

"Always a pleasure, Nina. Though let's be honest, a maid's work is never done—good thing ol' Yvonne over here will be on her knees to lick clean every splatter Jacob leaves behind." She has been reduced to an itch that never goes away. A lovely fuck-doll whose every breath is a silent scream for more cock, more cum, more humiliation" Lynn announced proudly, her eyes dark with twisted pleasure. "That mouth—oh, it's made for milking the menfolk, ladies too, while her butt is just a target for our guests' eager members. Once she gets real cum in her, we've packed her head so full of dirty hypno-triggers, she'll be chasing that cock high all night, then begging for the next hit even in her sleep."

Mistress turned on her heel, the centre of gravity swinging with her hips. "And Jacob," she purred, her gaze flitting to where I knelt, working tirelessly at my indignity. "Oh, Jacob, my beastly brute—you've given me so much already, showing me the insipid man Yvonne once pretended to be. And now, consider this my gift to you: me and this eternal tease here," she waved negligently toward me, "both at your mercy. Think of it as a lesson in power, babe. She’s primed to simmer in her own hell, boiling with need she can't quell, while you indulge yourself in every drop of the pleasure we offer."

Jacob was far gone, drowning in the shameless surrender of my lips wrapped tight around his cock. His mind numbed out to everything but the drag and swirl of eager servitude I offered up. The only thing that came from him was a half aware low grunt, the sound of a man soaked in the raw power of undeserved domination. His eyes, clouded over, were locked on the bob and sway of my head, hypnotised by the spectacle of his easy dominance on full, humiliating display. That dumbstruck daze of his, it spoke volumes about how deep he'd sunk into the pleasure of it all—lost in the depravity of my willing degradation.

With a sneer, Mistress spoke, "Let’s not forget, our Yvonne here speaks only in French now. Hypnosis has her wired tight, so all those pretty whimpers and words that escape are nothing but echoes of her submission. It's all I allow her, her language of servitude, her tender moans of wanting, the endless carousel of denied pleasure that spins in her pretty little head." Her mockery was a cold splash on my hot, writhing want—want that would never be more than just that, a panting, slobbering want.

**Synopsis**

As you turn the pages of this chapter, brace yourself for a plunge into Yvonne's descent. What unfolds is a profane display of excess that satisfies the voyeuristic and indulgent cravings of all involved. Now a mere object for pleasure, parades through a gauntlet of desire, a testament to the depth of her bonded service to her insatiable Mistress but is there a glimmer of hope at the end of the tunnel? This inevitably comes with a warning: the narrative roams through deeply shadowed corridors, laden with explicit encounters and emotional intensity that might unsettle, or indeed offend, the timorous soul.

Chapter1 can be found here: Binding Resolutions Chapter 1: A Promise Kept
Chapter2 can be found here: Binding Resolutions Chapter 2: Lost in Submission

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**Author's Note**

Writing this chapter knocked the wind out of me. It took a toll on my heart and pushed my mind to the edge. But why go down this road? Why write something so raw, so dark? Well, initially, I had a softer version, but then, something inside me whispered, "Go farther."

I had a few questions haunting me:

1. How far can you push a story before it becomes too much? Where's the line between filthy and good storytelling?
2. Is it possible to make you, the reader, feel conflicted? caught between enjoying the story and feeling a bit disgusted with me, the author, for writing it?
3. And, can I plant little mysteries throughout the story? Little secrets that don't stand out at first but keep tugging at your thoughts?

This story is taking a turn. It looks strange now, I know. It might even seem like there's no good reason for all this to happen to Yvonne. Stick with me. By the end of chapter 3, I plan to drop a twist that’ll start making things clear. Chapter 4 will give you the whole picture. At its heart, this is a love story, but one that's taken some really dark turns. There’s a resolution coming, and everyone will get what they deserve in the end.

**Trigger Warning**

**Personal Request and Trigger Warning for Chapter 3**: Caution is advised; the upcoming prose deals with profoundly mature and unsettling themes of extreme power dynamics, coerced submission, and vivid sexual encounters. Please tread carefully. This chapter is for people who are comfortable with tough subjects. If that's not you, it's perfectly okay to skip this part. Your peace of mind is important, so please, use your judgment as the story goes into these darker places.

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On how I found the confidence to write:

Moved to my blog here

Chapter 3: The Stroke of Midnight

The final minutes of the year ticked away, and that goddamn box of dreams and fuck-ups 'the resolutions box' gleamed under the spotlight.

Me? My focus never wavered from Mistress even as I slobbered over Jacob as she declared to the crowd, "Let's make some wishes, folks! Drop in your hopes and desires for the New Year!" she urged the partygoers.

Her smirk was pure sin as she sauntered over to where I was, and without a hint of tenderness, she pulled out the butt plug nestled inside me. a whorish yelp bleeding right into Jacob's lap but didn’t miss a beat, milking him with every draw of my mouth even as my eyes watered.

He was lost in a haze of pleasure, head thrown back in unabashed indulgence, groans escaping him like a man possessed by the obscenity of my mouth’s enthusiastic caress.

Mistress didn't skip a beat, yanking up her dress and impaling herself on Jacob. It was a sound that echoed betrayal, sloppy and harsh, tearing at my insides. This was the grand finale, the spectacle she'd promised—a show of betrayal so bold it turned our love story and twisted it into something ugly and unrecognizable. Her breath hitched, revelling in the rush it brought her, she grabbed my face, making damn sure I caught every gut-wrenching detail.

"Sing out every sordid fucking detail," Mistress snarled, her claws digging into my flesh, dragging my reluctant face to the site of my ultimate undoing. Her icy stare speared me with a cold joy only she could muster. "Press your quivering face next to his hairy, swinging, mmm…potent balls. Watch me get taken, filling me with what could be his legacy—a gift you could never bestow upon your former wife. Feel your history bleed out with each relentless drive. Let each confession tear you open."

Her proclamation floored me—I was no longer her husband, my love and life snuffed out by my own contract. A soul-crushing howl tore from my depths, sorrow flooding out as I felt a visceral pain ravage my core. My knees shook with weakness, but she held up me, her grip in my hair unyielding. "Tell me... my love," she whispered, her words, words only I could hear and then she spoke aloud again, laced with venom, "Tell me all, you filthy sissy, spill it for me and satisfy Jacob's ear."

Her phrase, "my love," served as the key to unlocking the torrent within. I spilled the vulgar truths and exposed the raw, bleeding remnants of my passion. "Sa virilité impitoyable... enfoncée au plus profond de vous, Maîtresse." (*"His merciless manhood... pumping deep into you, Mistress."*) The heave of each sob carved into my shattered spirit.

Mistress's laugh was like a whip, cruel in its clarity. “When the fuck did you last taste such divine bliss, feel my quivering snatch clenching? Let it out, my little cuckold, bleed your hollowed existence into my ears." Her mockery cut jagged, malicious edges into the hollow cavern that I had become.

Mistress erupted into heartless laughter—a sound as vicious and biting as it was gleeful. "Can't you even grasp the thrill of plunging your dick deep anymore? Speak up, my gelded-wonder. Serenade me with the agony of your pitiful, shrivelled life," she heckled, delighting in the cacophony of my splintering ego.

"Il la serre fort, ses mains marquent sa possession sur elle... Ses seins si tendus, coiffés de leurs mamelons brun clair... sautillant sous chaque coup de rein.Ses mains vous enserrent fort, marquant de son empreinte sa propriété sur votre chair soumise... Et, bon dieu, ces seins, si fermes, surmontés de tétons dressés, proéminents, vibrants sous la force de ses coups.” (*“His hands wrap tight around you, stamping his ownership on your yielding flesh... And, god, those breasts, so pert, topped with nipples stiff, protruding, vibrant against his pounding.”*) An agonised sigh slipped past my lips, a sign of the devotion I still freely gave.

With a smirk, Mistress pressed, "Sad—that a stiff breeze could stir me more than your fuckless crotch. You'll never see these tits bounce to your worthless hump again." Each word was a cruel reminder of my impotence, my fall from grace.

Mistress' body trembled with the rapture Jacob's thrusts provided, her beautiful bubble of ecstasy burst with my every sob. "Narrate the act of unprotected love... how he could impregnate me..." Her voice was laced with the venom of mock consolation.

"C'est l'act de reproduction brutesque.... elle se fait combler d'une semence vigoureuse, contrairement à la mienne, absente pour toujours..." (*"It's the act of brute reproduction... you are being filled with vigorous seed, unlike mine, absent forever...”*) I uttered through sobs, the finality of her words piercing through my very soul.

Mistress cackled, her pleasure unbound. “Fucking pathetic—imagine it was you trying to fill me up, no fucking balls. Isn't it hilarious?” the grotesque punchline to my castration.

Mistress shivered a dark laugh that congealed the air around us. “Indeed. Laughable that you'd even thought of fathering a child. A sterile end to your line—just how I ensured it." Her words drove home the final nail into the coffin of my hopes—the obscene conclusion of my tale.

"Admit it, you love watching me turn your 'wife' into my personal fucktoy, don't you, you weak little sissy?" Jacob’s words were delusional, each boastful claim of prowess diminishing amidst his subpar performance. Yet his pride swelled with each uninspiring thrust into Mistress, whose physical response was rote and lacking our past intimate dance's fervour.

It was the pain in my eyes, knowing that the pleasure in her body, came from the sight of my torment, rather than the feel of Jacob's inadequate manhood, drawing forth her arousal. The broken shards of my heart ached with each piteous jolt of her hips, betraying my disbelief and despair. Lost and broken, I agonised, 'Pourquoi cette soif de ma douleur, Maîtresse?' (*Why this thirst for my pain, Mistress?*).

Even as my spirit lay in ruins, the dominion of Mistress' words over me left me with no choice but to lie. And lie I did, with a whisper torn from my depths, “Oui, ça m’excite de voir ma maîtresse défoncée sans merci par un homme qui lui est supérieur." (*“Yes, it excites me to see my mistress mercilessly pounded by a man who is her superior.”*)

Unsatisfied by my broken admissions, Mistress grabbed my hair, yanking me down. I found myself inches from Jacob’s sweaty sac, hanging, glistening with the slick sheen of her own arousal that dripped onto them.

As She gyrated atop, her silent directive was unmistakable. Commanding me to lavish attention on his reeking, musky testicles with the desperate strokes of my tongue. I was to serve doubly, to clean and to please, as she rode him with fervour.

Without warning, a foreign heat breached me from behind. An anonymous cock, thick and insistent, plundered my virgin rear without a whisper of preamble. The pain was sharp, raw, and tore a cry right from my guts…but I bit it back, my first time taken but I stayed buried in Jacob's sack, meticulously mouthing him like a good whore.

I was split open, skewered front and back, my passage plundered by the relentless jackhammer behind me, entirely exposed, filth incarnate. The vulgar slaps against my ass echoed in my ears, punctuated by my own muffled groans around the rank, sac forced against my lips.

“Play with your pathetic dicklette now!” Mistress' voice, twisted with tainted affection, commanded and I obeyed. My trembling fingers fumbled with the pitiful nub, the cage that enclosed it only letting me feel plastic. Each tug seared through the tender flesh, but the agony was overcome by my perverse compulsion to do as she demanded. My role had been etched in stone.

Harsh, brutal thrusts impaled me, the man behind acting as if I were nothing more than just a hole to pound, I was close to being nothing, just turning into this cock slave. I tried to focus, tried to cling to some shred of myself, but the sinister whispers of the Mistress and Miss Lynn’s conditioning blossomed darkly within me, eager to twist me into something else, a creature born to submit, created for the sole purpose of service.

Their pace was a mad drum, signalling the end, and I knew it. Once I tasted that hot rush of cum, and felt a man's release deep inside me, those hypnotic seeds would sprout, taking me over, locking me into this new debased existence. My insides tensed, aching for relief, my lips clamped around Jacob's quivering balls just as his body tensed too, a clear sign of his looming explosion destined to breach the Mistress' womb.

With a guttural grunt, the brute’s climax erupted. the pig filling Mistress with pulsing spurts. The spillage flooded down her quivering thighs to mingle with my breath — thick gobs of deviance compelling me to drown in their indecency. "Savor that, slut, taste the disgrace but you better not fucking swallow," Mistress commanded, crude and sharp.

She wrestled my head upward, the incessant ramming from behind continued unabated, my painted face a canvas of their shared depravity. One hand clawing at the earth, the other making a mockery of my locked-away lust."Perfect," she hissed, and then plundered my mouth with hers, forcing me to stew in the symbol of my capitulation, to marinate in my own downfall as she desired.

This was my crossing point, the trigger, the hypnotic key turning in the lock of my denial, pushing me — N-no, *forcing* me — into becoming the creature Mistress truly desired me to become.

Her lips pulled away, a decadent trail of spit and ejaculate, the signs of our recent sin hung between us as her taste lingered in the corners of my mouth – unforgettable and intoxicating. One last desperate swell of raw longing for my past vigour tugged at the seams of my reality. But it was mercilessly crushed beneath the brutal reality that suffocated any remnants of my past.

My tongue moved reflexively, lapping at the evidence of my new place in this twisted hierarchy, bathed in the tangy vestiges of my own demise, savouring the taste of the defeat that had become my sustenance.

Jacob, that swine, was drowning in his liquor-laden euphoria, spent from the lust that devoured him. He slurred out, "Best. Fucking. Day. Ever." Pleasure plastered across his swollen face before he toppled into unconsciousness.

In that instant, the hypnotic commands lodged deep within my psyche detonated. I was on all fours again, my tongue eagerly swabbing at the limp, dripping cock of the unconscious troll before me —no prompting needed, just a fervent drive propelling me to polish every filthy inch, a cum-soaked rag dutifully following Lady Lynn's programming.

I hungered to serve, to exist as nothing more than Mistress' and any eager man’s leashed plaything. Frantically lapping up every drop, I was consumed by the need for more when Mistress' hand tenderly halted my fervour, guiding my head upward. In the depths of her eyes, I caught a glimmer of something unexpected, a softening not just of amusement at my plight, but an almost loving entreaty. Her lips barely moving as she breathed the words only meant for my understanding, "Complete your surrender, baby."

And surrender I did, heaving with each punishing thrust from behind, my swollen tits painfully swaying, a grotesque burlesque all for her twisted amusement. "Regardez-moi, Maîtresse," (*"Look at me, Mistress,"*) I gasp out, saliva dripping down my chin as I fruitlessly nurse the lifeless dick before me, trying to coax it back to life with hollowed cheeks and eager lips. "Ce que je suis devenue... une chienne insatiable," (*"What I have become... an insatiable bitch,"*) I slur between slothful sucks.

Slapping my hand against my dangling breasts, I yank at my nipple hard enough to call forth both pain and perverse delight. "Je suis votre objet," (*"I am your object,"*) I mumble mindlessly, my mouth returning to Jacob's flaccid, uninspiring member, my lips attempting to wrest virility from the limp vestige of my field of defeat.

Pressing my thighs together, despising the laughable nub, once so noble, now just pitiful mockery aching for a touch I'm forbidden. "Une misérable petit clitty," (*"A miserable little clitty,"*) I chastise myself, resigned to the impotent tugging of my cage—a symbol of my ultimate derision.

With a vacant grin spreading across my face, ecstasy dulling my gaze, I murmured, "Maîtresse, j'espère être l'esclave servile que vous désiriez, rien qu'une marionnette humide, le cul encore suintant du foutre de quelqu'un d'autre, la bouche remplie et humiliée, une coquille vide prête pour votre débauche." (*"Mistress, I hope to be the abject serving slave you wished for, nothing but a wet puppet, ass still leaking someone else’s cum, mouth filled and humiliated, an empty vessel prepped for your debauchery."*)

Just then, The dick impaling me from behind erupted, spewing seed deep inside my offered ass, and with it my mind entirely shattered, a cascade of drool spilling from my slack mouth.

In that instant, the nameless cock erupted inside me, unravelling my mind, the hypnotic triggers taking over, and drowning me when I shrieked,"Oui, putain, c'est ça... salope stupide et excitée, une sissy juste pleine de trous pour de grosses bites bien grasses et les jus de la Maîtresse une fois qu'elle en a fini avec eux. C'est moi ça..." (*"Fuck, yes, that's it... stupid horny slut, a sissy only full of holes for big fat yummy cocks and the Mistress' juices once she is done with them. That's me..."*).

Slack-jawed, drool dribbling from my mouth, I buckled under the haze of demented bliss that subsumed me. I pinched and twisted the ridiculously prominent nipples that crowned my massive, distended tits, offering them up for anyone's cruel delight. My plump butt cheeks fluttered like a tart's flag at every lascivious grope, a flagrant offering to be conquered, ravished, and claimed. My higher faculties fell away into nothingness as I swivelled, a beast of basest need, to gobble up the dirty dick with unholy eagerness, its stench of wrongness now my greatest delight.

My tits swayed low, nipples straining for maltreatment. Clumsily, I tugged at my overripe teat; the other hand was knuckle-deep, rooting around my debased chute for more filthy dribbles to lap up. "Mmmmh, c’est dégueu... mais ça me plaît..." (*"Mmmmh, it’s disgusting... but I like it..."*), I breathed, my muddled praise for the taste muffled as I bobbed on its softening length.

On all fours, I chased the escapee cum across the ground, my tongue sweeping up traces of shame. Peering up at Mistress, beseeching in lust, "J'aime cette saleté... elle me rend chaude, Maîtresse..." (*"I love this filth... it makes me hot, Mistress..."*), my every slurp, a filthy ode to my new reality.

Abruptly, Mistress jerked my head backwards by my hair, sending me sprawling into her embrace, a helpless ragdoll caught in the afterglow of depravity. A hollow moan, laced with vacant desire, echoed from my lips as I stared into her.

The background hum of Master's deep, satisfied breathing provided a twisted harmony to the moment, affirming my debasement. Her eye contact seared into my being, her gaze gleaming with corrupt approval. "Yes, just like that, my sweet, wrecked plaything," she praised in a hushed tone that fastened the final chain of my subjugation.

She fetched the butt plug previously sprung free from the clutch of my insides, twisting off its jewelled end to reveal two slips of paper tucked inside. "Get your ass over to the box and stuff this in, quick. Then get back to me, fast. There's a whole line of hard cocks waiting and a night full of cum with your name on it," she instructed with a hint of impatience.

I rushed, all messy and slick from the last ravaging, my little caged cockette a splayed joke, spurting out its disgrace. My skin was smeared with another man’s jizz, marking me as public property—a cum-slut in the flesh. My big tits swung and swayed, nipples proud and obscene, each movement a crazy dance for the eyes feasting on my fucked-up fall.

Staggering through the crowd, eager hands took turns yanking at my nipples, giving them a good twist. I couldn’t help but flush hot each time, a guttural moan bursting from my throat, feeling my skin burn with raw excitement. "Uuuugh..." It wasn’t quiet; I couldn’t hide how much their rough play turned me on.

Many eyes latched onto the earrings jingling from my ears—shiny medals that once were my precious testicles. Every pinch to my nipples was more electric, each yank sending waves of dirty pleasure shooting right through me. "Mmmm... ouais... encore..." (*"Mmm... yeah... more..."*) I couldn’t stop myself, the crowd’s crude touches pushing me deeper into the ache, craving every nasty jolt they sparked in me.

“Hey Yvonne, bet you miss having real balls, not just these trinkets – right?” The heckler roared out, triggering a wave of vulgar chuckles around us. I looked at his smirking face, nodding, a surge of sick thrill at his words painting my face in hues of lust. In a breathy, eager confession, “Oui, il fallait que je les perde... elles n'avaient aucune utilité,” (*"Yes, I had to lose them... they served no purpose,"*) I murmured, a quiver in my voice, the sinful joy blooming in that moment of utter shame.

A stranger yanked my cage briskly and ooh!, and it sent shocks of unchecked want through me. I almost dropped right there before Mike as I walked past him, wanting to worship that bulge in his pants and experience his promise to tear me apart. But Mistress' orders anchored me, her will clearer than my own needs.

The room felt charged as I made my way to the box, the reality of my cock-thirst had me high, dizzy with desire. With every crude comment, every tug on my worthless little cockette, my ache deepened. ‘Je ne peux pas m'empêcher de les vouloir... tous…’ (*’I can’t stop wanting them… all of them...,’*) I thirsted silently, craving the raw, nasty use I was built for, all tangled up in my cock-hunger.

"Je suis faite pour ça, pour être prise par ces délicieuses bites… c'est ce que je suis..." (*"I’m made for this, to be taken by these delicious cocks… it’s what I am..."*) I muttered, a depraved song to my soul, to the overwhelming rapture of my need.

Nearing the box, I saw Trevor, the groundskeeper, hammering into someone. His gaze scorched into me, searing me with the fierce command he wielded. "Down, Yvonne, now. Worship my ass. Don’t stop 'til I'm damn well satisfied," his order took hold, as he delivered a slap to the bent figure’s bottom.

"Oui, monsieur, avec plaisir," (*"Yes, sir, with pleasure,"*) I panted, as I dropped to the ground and without hesitation, I descended, my tongue sliding into his puckered entrance. Each taste sent a pulse of elation—it was intoxicating, the direct order from a man instantly inflaming my desires.

Leaning sideways, my arm outstretched awkwardly, I fumbled for the box’s slot. My slick, coated hand, trembled as I slipped the papers through the narrow opening, all the while my tongue dutifully serviced Trevor.

From across the room, Mistress' voice bellowed through the thick air, commanding his attention even amidst the clamour. "Trevor! I have plans for that slut. Send her back to me, now," she declared,

Trevor, his tempo momentarily disrupted, grabbed the back of my head, yanking my face deeper into his rear, He gave one last, deep thrust, jerking me forward. a reminder of his power, before pulling away with a frustrated grunt.

"Go on, hurry up. Your Mistress wants you," he muttered. With a quick nod and a lowered gaze, I scurried towards Mistress, eager and anxious for the next stage of my endless display.

Hastily returning to Mistress, my limbs were quivering with a visceral, primal hunger—an insatiable need to worship any dick dangled before me, tattooed into my very core by the hypnotic triggers.

Mistress simply watched, knowing no command was necessary. My lips eagerly sought out the flaccid member of the unconscious Master, a dutiful servant breathing life back into the dormant shaft.

Then Mistress signalled Mike with an imperious flick of her wrist, her voice commanding and clear, "Mike, lift this bitch and fuck her good."

Mike’s hands were merciless as they clamped down on my hips, hoisting me into the unyielding air as he prepared to enter me. As he lifted me, there was no barrier, no façade left. My ass, pliant and yielding, had been transformed into a gateway of perpetual welcome.

With a primal grunt, he drove into me, his entrance lacking all ceremony, as though I were a vessel custom-made for severe, ruthless use. His thick member glided seamlessly inside the gaping maw of my rear, which lay surrendered and spread wide, like a harlot's overworked cunt, accepting the intrusion without a hint of resistance.

"Look at this slut skewered on display," he sneered, slamming into me with a ferocity that sent me swinging, a piece of meat caught and spinning on his cruel rod, devoured by humiliation and savoured with every punishing thrust.

Dangling midair, tits bouncing wild, I'm just a bottom for Mike's rough fucking, each slam making me sway. His one meaty grabbing me by the waist, tipping me downwards like I'm nothing but a piece of ass on display—the outline we were making, a filthy shadow puppet show on the wall.

Like an obscene display in a den of depravity, I rocked between the thunder of Mike’s lust-powered thrusts and the helpless weight of the still-sleeping Master's flaccid dick in my mouth.

Dazed by the lewd rapture, eyes squeezed shut, the boisterous cheers of "Happy New Year!" felt distant, as if muffled through a thick fog of debauchery. ”Mon corps est une marionnette, les seins balançant, chaque poussée des bites me rappelle combien je suis tombée bas, et putain, ça m'excite et je ne peux pas m'en empêcher. Je sais que maîtresse regarde, et ça... c'était son désir. (*"My body’s a puppet, tits swinging, every pump from the dick reminds me how low I've sunk, and fuck, it turns me on and I can't help it. I know Mistress is watching, and this... this was her desire."*)

Just then, I heard the mistress whisper into my ear, "happy new year my love" and then I felt, for the first time since this whole ordeal, her lips wrap around my caged clit. She was below me, never had she been below me since this began, my cage hurt, but it was the mistress, taking what little had remained of me inside her, nothing else mattered, not the cocks I was servicing, not the pain, only her, giving me a taste of what we had in the past. lovingly, gently, slowly.

Everything faded—the dick drilling me, the men using me, even the sting of confinement—it all just washed away. She was giving me a flicker of what we once shared, her lips moving tenderly, with a slow care that used to be mine before.

As my world bucked and reeled, the edges of my senses blurred. No longer the mistress, she was l'amante, the lover, the remembered whisper of intimacy. Jacob's limp dick flopped from my mouth, and I half-choked, half-gasped the words out, "Maîtresse, continuez, je vous en supplie. Je vis seulement pour vous, juste pour ça. Je sais que mon petit *dickette* ne vous intéresse pas, mais j'ai besoin de ceci. Je ne pourrai peut-être plus jamais jouir, mais aidez-moi à essayer. S'il vous plaît, s'il vous plaît, aidez votre servante à obtenir ce dont elle a désespérément besoin." (*"Mistress, keep going, I beg you. I live only for you, just for this. I know that my little *dicklette* doesn't interest you, but I need this. I may never be able to come again, but please help me try. Please, please help your servant get what she desperately needs."*)

As Mistress enveloped me, her arms coiling possessively, she consumed every fragment of my being, a predator claiming her prey. Hoisted and suspended, Mike's thick hand steadying me, while another restrained my wrists. My legs clung to his sides, as I flailed in the throes of eros, clutching desperately as her mouth found the pin-sized hole in the cage.

She flicked her tongue once, just once, and the world shattered. I climaxed, came apart like a marionette with cut strings, a crescendo of "Ah, ah, oui, oui, oh s'il vous plaît, oui, maîtresse..." (*"Yes, yes, oh please yes, Mistress..."*) erupting from deep within.

But she didn't cease. She sucked harder, as Mike pounded away, filling me to the brim until he clenched and came. He wrenched me back painfully, and I detonated again, a squeal tearing through me – a creature of pure want.

Tears streaming, I couldn’t contain the guilt, the joy, "Maîtresse, merci... je ne mérite pas cela, je ne mérite pas votre amour. Je suis juste votre esclave, et je suis désolée d’avoir joui. Je promets de ne plus jamais jouir. Ne me laissez pas..." (*"Mistress, thank you... I don't deserve this, I don't deserve your love. I am just your slave, and I’m sorry for cumming. I promise to never cum again. Please don’t leave me..."*) I whispered, my voice a fragile, but she did not seem to hear my plea and she did not stop milking me.

Mike, finished with his savage use of my body, unceremoniously dumped me onto Mistress, my clit still trapped in her insatiable mouth. I couldn't brace myself as I freefell, landing on her with a wet slap. The remnants of his cum were like liquid sin, dripping from my ravaged hole to splatter across Mistress' chest. Her tits heaved beneath me, rising and falling with heavy, primal breaths.

Her arms tightened around me further, vice-like in their urgency, her grip ruthless as if wringing the last drops of pleasure from a spent fruit. I could feel her flesh against mine. The heat from her face, branded me with the mark of her possession. Her suckling was ferocious, her mouth working over the confines shielding my arousal like a beast tearing at its chains.

As she continued to suck with an intensity that made me feel as if I were sprouting an erection, albeit a meagre one. But I sensed her tongue detecting even this faintest uprising as she redoubled her efforts, sucking with a hunger that was nearly savage. Each draw of her mouth sent electricity crackling down my spine, awakening the core of my being that lay dormant.

Unable to resist, defying the insurgence of all my training, I rose against all my submission, my ‘clitty’ a prisoner still in her fervent mouth, and grasped the back of her head. Her hands, once binding, now simply cradled my quivering flanks, allowing – no, urging me to grind down onto her.

For the first time in an interminable span, I claimed a scrap of dominion, a fleeting inversion of our roles. My fingers wove into Mistress’, NO! Nina's hair, pulling her close as desire took over. "Lèche-moi, mon amour, fais-moi trembler de plaisir !" (*"Lick me, my love, make me tremble with delight!"*) I begged. That whispered command stirred something primal in her

"Suce ma clito, chérie, fais-moi jouir dur !" (*"Suck my clit, honey, make me come hard!"*) I cried out and that 'command' set her off—her sucking turned ravenous, a wild hunger unleashed from deep within her, a desperate need to please me that I'd never sensed before.

In that fleeting slice of clarity, It hit me, right there in the swelter of our shared heat—she was throwing me a crumb of the past, a tiny taste of when the balance tipped the other way, if only just.

She was feeding me lines from a script we'd torched long ago. Hell, this moment, she was right where she used to be those days, hungry, waiting for whatever pleasure I'd bestow.

Entirely consumed by a deep longing, she looked starved for the affection I ached to offer. "Vous enchaînez ma chair, mais, putain... c'est mon cœur qui porte votre nom gravé à jamais." (*"You chain my flesh, but, fuck... it's my heart that bears your name etched forever."*) I pronounced with certainty, ready to reclaim what was once ours.

In a move that was all heat and wild grasps, I shoved a finger into her dripping core, searching for the switch that had always been mine to flick. With my other hand, I pulled even her in even harder, keeping her locked onto the what she was coaxing into life.

We were a goddamn mess, a tangle of thrusts and desperate gasps. I felt her rocking against the intrusion of my fingers, riding them as she clung to the brink. Neither of us had gotten off tonight—not with that mediocre joke of a cock, certainly not her.

She craved it—craved me—as much as I needed release. "Effondre-toi pour moi, ma reine." (*"Come undone for me, my queen,"*) I panted, right on the cusp of the edge, and then it tore through us—a swell, a break, our bodies convulsing wildly.

Her knees buckled, my cocklet wept with joy at last as she leaned into me, my own cries tearing loose, "Ahhhh.... à toi, toujours à toi..." (*"Ahhhh.... yours, always yours…"*) We collapsed, heaving, spent, into the wreckage of our lust.

There was no strength left, only her touch drawing me against the warmth of her chest, her breath stirring the damp hair at my forehead, "Hush now, mon amour... a new dawn, a new year is ours." Her voice was the last thing washing over me as my world dimmed, and sweetness took me under.

**Synopsis**

As you navigate through this chapter, you will witness a softer side of this tale, revealing a bond that may refuse to be defined merely by power and submission amidst newfound intimacies and unspoken confessions. It appears that love wears many masks, and the dance between our heroine and her mistress takes a curious turn towards the unsaid and the undone. What will become of our 'little Yvonne' when soft touches and stolen glances suggest a twist in the tale?

Chapter 1 can be found here: Binding Resolutions Chapter 1: A Promise Kept
Chapter 2 can be found here: Binding Resolutions Chapter 2: Lost in Submission
Chapter 3 can be found here: Binding Resolutions Chapter 3: The Stroke of Midnight

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**Author's Note**

Phew, Chapter 4 was a doozy to write. Let's be honest: I discarded the entire first draft. But good ideas don't die—they get reused.

As I said from the very beginning, this tale is about love that survives the storm and Chapter 3 nearly put me in a bind.

The challenges that I needed to overcome this time were the following:

1. How do you find true love under so many secrets and sins?
2. How do you patch up our very broken Yvonne without just slapping a band-aid over a gaping wound?
3. Will you come to cheer for Yvonne AND Nina after all that has happened?
4. Lastly, how do I pull all this off without ditching the deliciously dirty spirit of the story? (Because, let's be honest, it's been one hell of a filthy ride.)

Starting with this chapter, the resolution is 'rising,' so to speak, the kinky, 'heart' tugging kind and I think you'll love how it ends.

**Trigger Warning**

**Personal Request and Trigger Warning for Chapter 4**: Please be advised that this chapter contains mature and explicit content, including graphic sexual descriptions and themes of submission and control within a consensual dynamic. Although Chapter 4 exhibits a lighter tone with less intensity than Chapter 3, it may still be unsettling for some readers. As such, discretion is recommended. If you find that such topics don't sit well with you, or if they stray from what brings you enjoyment in reading, it is absolutely okay to pass over this chapter. Your comfort and emotional safety are incredibly important, so I warmly encourage you to listen to your feelings and care for your well-being as you make your reading choices.

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How I found the confidence to write:
Read here on my blog

Binding Resolutions Chapter 4: New Beginnings

Stirred by the soft touch, I awoke to Nina's breath, whispers of warmth against my skin, "Wake up, love. Time to welcome the new year." Her lips danced along my neck, descending in a trail of feather-like kisses, igniting a trail of shivers that cascaded down to my soft, ample breasts.

The full bloom of my chest heaved in quivering anticipation as her mouth grazed a swollen, vulnerable nipple—proud and rosy pink, and begging for the slightest attention. She bit down gently, and the overwhelming cocktail of pain and pleasure forced a moan from my lips. "Oh..." I gasped in the language of my soul, "C'est délicieux..." (*"It's delicious... "*)

Her kisses were a tender exploration as she journeyed down to the belly button, a tender dip in the soft expanse of my belly. And then, her lips brushed lower, to where I'd become accustomed to cold plastic and metal. But there was no cage, no lock, no chain, just the warm touch of her lovely tongue on flesh that responded with an involuntary twitch—a living, pulsing piece of my old self.

The realisation jolted me, and my mind wrestled with the aberration, but my body simply relished it. An erection, ‘petite’ though it may have been in stature, surged to life, leaving me breathless. "Peut-être... qu'elle est plus grande que mon téton?" (*"Maybe... it's larger than my nipple? "*) I considered with a flicker of glee.

I felt the press of her palms, the teasing flicks against my wanton nubs, ushering a joy that bubbled up and broke on the surface in hushed moans. I filled the room with muted sighs as her lips remained latched to my sensitive ‘clitty’— every motion driving me to the brink of a joyous madness.

"Continuez, je vous en prie, cela me fait flotter…" (*"Keep going, please, it makes me float…"*), I cooed, drawing in the sensation of her lips that played me like a fine instrument of pleasure.

I tightened my grip on Nina’s locks, the need to connect on a visceral level commanding every fibre."Mon cœur bat pour vous, ma déesse," I moaned to her. (*"My heart beats for you, my goddess,"*) My words, breathed out in the tongue of my truth, clung to the electric air between us.

Yet, confusion clawed at me with feverish intensity. How the hell did I have an erection?

I could still see the glint of the knife, feel the bite of the straps around my quivering thighs as I lay exposed on the table. The cold snap of rubber gloves, the gleam in the eyes of Dr. Michelle as she cut away the last remnants of my masculinity. The wailing from the pain that I couldn't suppress, the hot sting of tears, the inability to look away as cut after cut, I was unmade.

Nina had been there, watching the spectacle with a twisted smirk, her words slicing through me as sharply as the scalpel, "You're parting with those little balls, but trust me, darling, I'll ensure they're always adorning you in a more 'valuable form'."

True to her vicious vow, she had them fashioned into earrings—golden, shining trophies of my emasculation for all to behold at yesterday's debauchery.

My permanent emasculation, along with Miss Lynn's training sessions, the hypnosis, and the chemical cocktail of hormones, was meant to exorcise even the ghost of my orgasms, let alone the ability to harden. But there it was, that minuscule 'pathetic excuse' as they all called it, jerking with an unexpected shot of life that I had been assured was forever smothered out of me.

I gazed down at Nina, bewildered, suckling what should be nothing but a limp tadpole; instead, it stood in defiance—my proud little ‘cockette’.

There was a 'why' and 'how' buzzing at the back of my mind, but all thoughts were drowned out by a sweet, soft moan that escaped my lips as the pleasure rippled through me.

She sucked me off as if I were still the man she used to choke on, the sounds she made as lewd as they come. There was no struggle, no strain from a sizable cock to gag on, just her deriving pleasure from the simplicity of my reduced existence.

Clearly, this was theatre, a performance dedicated solely to my standing ovation. The sounds erupting from Nina’s loving lips—the dripping, slurping cacophony punctuated with coughs and gags streamed without interruption, an unbroken thread of sound—her tribute to what once was and a deliciously twisted homage to what now remained.

She was showing me, in the most profane and passionate way, that whilst her "ample summer sausage" was now a "little jelly bean," her love remained unabashed and filthily absolute.

Crushed in the heat of her grasp, I'd given in to the sweet rush of climax three times over last night, my ball-less little dicklet defying the damn impossible. Now, with Nina's lips working a wicked dance of soft and rough, I hovered on a knife-edge, teetering on the cusp of a fourth shuddering release.

And then she slowed down, her tongue, equal parts torment and ecstasy, lingered leisurely around her bite-sized candy. Each circle she traced sent a shiver to every part of me. And so close to the edge I swayed, breath hitching in small, panting gasps—it was happening again.

"Je vais venir... oh putain, je vais venir encore..." (*"I'm going to cum... oh fuck, I'm going to cum again... "*), I moaned, overwhelmed, and melted into the impending wave of release.

Tension coiled like a spring inside me, the sweet peak nearing with each passing second. Nina’s tongue, relentless in its pursuit of my unravelling, whipped up a frenzy within my groin. "Je-Je-Je vais...!" (*"I’m—I’m—I’m...! "*), my voice fractured, splintering under the strain of the urgent climax building its crescendo.

The tidal wave of pleasure crashed over me, dragging me helplessly over the edge. My entire being tightened, a knot of desperate anticipation, before unravelling in wave after wave of pure bliss. A tiny dribble marked the summit of my ecstasy, a pitiful tribute to the climax that rocked me to my core—a visceral rebellion against the neutered body that was supposed to be mine.

And Nina, the maestro of my undoing, kept her tongue swirling, relentless in her pursuit as I dissolved, spent and drowned in a deluge of carnal satisfaction.

As my trembling subsided, Nina approached me with tears cascading down her cheeks.Her gaze, deep as the ocean blue, locked onto mine. "Thank you for everything, my love," she breathed out, trapping me in her arms. I gave in, both of us a mess of sobs and sniffles.

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Time blurred as we clung to each other until; finally, Nina peeled herself from my hold. A year's worth of distance couldn't dull the ache of separation. My need for closeness found that defeated voice in my mind, ‘Moi, bête, je veux plus,’ (*‘Silly me, wanting more,’*) but Nina, with an almost clairvoyant touch, reassured me gently, "Hold on my little kitten, let's freshen up," she chuckled, a tease in her voice. “We both reek something fierce." She winked and added with a playful nudge, "The bath awaits,but wait a moment. This lady needs to tinkle first."

I grudgingly lounged in bed, watching her saunter off, a hypnotic rhythm to her behind that held my eyes captive. There, me being a smitten girl again, enthralled by a simple sway more potent than Lynn’s brainwashing. A wicked twitch came from down below – my 'third nipple' was acting up again. ‘Heh, mon troisième téton, c'est plutôt accrocheur,’ (*’Heh, my third nipple, kinda catchy,’*) I smirked. "Name it, and it becomes real... right, Nina?" I mumbled, contemplating a playful introduction for my newly enjoyable nub.

As I lay dreaming up lewd nicknames, I found my hand petting 'little Yvonne' again. "Oh, j'aimais bien ce nom aussi," (*"Oh, I liked that name too,"*) I smirked, tickled by how fitting that felt. I was heating up, fingers dancing as they sought that heavenly peak, but just then, Nina had reentered and had clearly noticed my little ‘indulgence’ because she then walked up to me and eased my hand away with a bemused, "Move it, my sultry little minx. We need to strip the filth from you forthwith."

Rising off the bed without hurry provided Nina with a clear view of the entirety of what I was, knowing her eyes were eating up every inch of me. She had dubbed me a minx; the least I could do was play the part—no hesitation, no compulsion—just a flare of teasing self-assurance. 'You fashioned Yvonne, now feast your eyes,' I thought wickedly, stretching languidly, arching my back, my ample breasts provocatively on display.

Did I just hear her breath hitch? Oh, the power of the tease—but before I could savour it, a sharp 'thwack' to my plump backside broke my trance. “To the bath, now, little lady," she said with that teasingly exasperated tone. "Oui, Mademoiselle!" I exclaimed, retreating to the sanctuary of the bathroom with mock obedience.

Oh wow! Would you look at that? The sight of the scented bath, decked out in romantic flair, petals adorning the water with a flourish, caught me by surprise. This was a lavish gesture that only I prepared and exclusively reserved for Nina. "For moi? Really?" I mused when the sound of Nina's voice reached me. "Take your time, enjoy this. I'll shower in the maid’s... the other bathroom."

She sweetened the deal with an offhand mention, "There's also a glass of that Spiced Indian buttermilk you adore by the tub. Snagged it from the Kumars, plenty more in the fridge. Relax, soak it in. Breakfast won't be ready for a bit."

The bath's embrace could wait—it was that darned buttermilk that beckoned with urgency. Swiftly grasping the glass, I savoured a generous gulp, letting the cold, salty treat cascade through me. A year had passed without this heavenly brew, a simple yoghurt drink from my backpacking days, yet it was a blissful rush at this moment.

Memories of my dorm days across the pond in India trickled in, where this simple drink of watered-down yoghourt spiked with mustard, ginger, and scorching chillies (much like little ol' me). Topped with a spritz of lime, this glass of goodness was precisely what hit the spot for me. Nina, delightful as she is, never could grasp the allure. But ahh, there I go again—being such a baby over my little obsessions!

For nearly an hour, I simply reclined in the scented suds, sipped on my delightful drink, and engaged in a bit of self-indulgence. Oh, the sweet torture of a languid, sensual tease, edging myself towards a torrid buzz. A touch here, a stroke there, cooking myself into a state of simmering passion.

Eventually, though, it was time to get out, and I draped myself in a robe, chuckling, "Oh, regarde-moi, quelle coquine je fais." (*"Oh, look at me, such a naughty thing."*)

To my surprise, I discovered my usual maid attire conspicuously absent when I looked around the bedroom. In its stead? I found a flirty, floral little thing waiting for me – and I mean little – not a stitch of underwear in sight. "Quand à Rome," (*"When in Rome,"*) I mused as I slipped into the scant bit of fabric and headed down to the kitchen.

The kitchen smelled heavenly; Nina was whipping up Dosas. Such unassuming little crepes demanded a finesse that could provoke a minor scandal for us 'non-Indians'. Pouring, spreading—oh, but let's not gloss it over with mundane terms—it was a Dosa and nothing else, an irreplaceable indulgence.

The aroma was mouthwatering. "Mmm, ça sent incroyable," (*"Mmm, smells incredible,"*) I proclaimed, loud enough for her to catch every bit of my excitement. Her voice came wafting back, clearly pleased with my proclamation, "Also got the Sambhar and Chutneys in from the Kumars, but these Dosas and that damned potato concoction will be ready any moment. Perch yourself at the table ma petite fleur, and I'll serve them up."

True to her word, I waited only moments before Nina waltzed over, one plate in each hand and mischief in her stride. She served me first, then squeezed in beside me, plate in hand, the other hand making quick work of lifting my dress and playing with my eager 'clit'.

Dizzy with a blend of spicy desires and aromatic Indian cuisine, I was practically purring, a content kitten about to indulge in the feast before me. Then, like a slap to the face, the sudden realisation hit me.

'WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK!?!' This was abnormal, next-level nuts, and why was I just clocking it now? “Oi, Nina,” I snapped, spinning round to her, her gaze like a laser on mine. . “Why’re you laying it on thick with the pampering? Speak up.” Only to freeze under her piercing gaze. ”What did you just call me?” She questioned, her voice razor-sharp. I realised the slip I guffed — But no!

This needed straight talk. Straining against my conditioning, I tossed out her name again, no frills, no ‘Mistress’ bullshit tacked on. I drew myself up tall—’oh look, Yvonne’s got balls again’—“I called you Nina,” I threw down, English words flying, taking back my goddamn voice.

Her eyes bore into mine, unblinking, and then, without warning, tears spilt over. Next moment, I was caught in her tight embrace, her kisses like rain on parched earth. I could feel her heart thudding against me as she pleaded desperately, “Sweetheart, say my name again... please, call me by all your endearments. God, I’m starving for it.”

Right then and there, the floodgates opened — I was bawling right along with her. “Nina, my love, chérie, honey, sweet pea, cupcake, my queen, my goddess...” I let the pet names flow, a stream of dedicated affection until I deliberately chose my final utterance in French, “ma maîtresse”, I said as her lips continued their tender assault. We held onto each other, crying until it felt like maybe, just maybe, we’d washed away all the trials from the past year.

She wiped our eyes, a burst of soft laughter bubbling through the solemnity, then kissed me deep. “Good to see ‘mistress’ hasn't left your charming French vocabulary. Such a delightful word on your tongue,” she teased.

“What’s happening?” I blurted out, my voice addled with confusion. Nina shot me a smirk as charming as the spring breeze, “Wait up, my pet. All will be revealed before the night ends. We still have some ‘prayers’ that need to be answered. But first, let’s not let this meal turn cold, eh? “ Her voice felt like home, so I obliged, an obedient giggle escaping me alongside a mouthful of food.

While her hand lingered, stirring a constant fire within me, I couldn't resist letting her in on my little secret, "I've renamed ‘her’. 'Little Yvonne,' just seemed fitting,” I shared, a chuckle slipping out as Nina's laughter joined in, echoing in my ears.

“Oh, you're too much," Nina laughed, her merriment evident, "but always remember, ‘she’ is MY 'little Yvonne'.” My heart did a little flip at her loving possessiveness, overcoming my ….something. "Elle est à vous, Maîtresse." (*"She is yours, Mistress."*) I acquiesced, a warmth rising to my cheeks as Nina's words caressed my heart, and my groin; as I returned to our lavish dining.

The ring of the bell had barely faded when I popped up like a jack-in-the-box, on door duty as usual. But oops, there was Nina, hand on my shoulder gently coaxing me back down onto the cushion. "No need, sweetie," she said with a chuckle, heading for the door herself.

Funny, in the year that had passed, taking charge of the door was Yvonne’s little slice of normal. But then again, I was a silly little thing... at least for today. And, nestled in my snug corner, I realised I didn't mind this new 'silly' one bit; watching Nina do my bit just tickled me pink.

---

The Doctor strolled in, all business and crisp efficiency, a stark contrast to the wanton sadist from last night's Smut fest. I couldn't help but flinch at her gaze—it was instinctive, a shudder that betrayed me. My reaction fluttered like a trapped moth, but clearly, it had caught the attention of Nina’s keen eyes.

"Doctor, thanks for making the trip today. Yvonne and I need a second, but then we'll be right behind you upstairs," she explained with a courteous nod, the underlying message clear as day.

To my surprise, the Doctor gave me a smile that felt oddly warm, a first since forever. Not one of those cold, clinical smirks that I had gotten used to, but a kind, human one. Something almost resembling camaraderie. "See you shortly, Yvonne," she remarked, her steps unhurried as she climbed the stairs.

Nina closed the space between us, her touch tender as she held my hands, her eyes searching mine. The sharp memory of that final look before I surrendered my manhood flashed between us, but the intensity in her gaze now was different.

There was only a softness there. All her love poured into the oceanic depth of her concern. "Don't worry, my baby. This time, it will be different... Better... I promise you," she whispered. And just like that, I was her girl again, nodding and stepping behind her, my trust as inevitable as the moon above us.

As we advanced upstairs, Nina leaned in close, "It was the good doctor who removed your piercings last night, believe it or not," she mused casually, a curve at the corner of her lips. "Ruined her fancy diamond-tipped tools in the process, all without disturbing a single dream of yours."

I couldn’t hold back a carefree laugh, "Mon Dieu, quelle opération délicate ! Je suppose que mon sommeil de beauté était trop précieux pour être interrompu, hein ?" (*”My, what a delicate operation! I guess my beauty sleep was too precious to interrupt, eh?”*)

So there I was, sitting all awkward and bare on the edge of the bed, arms pinned to my side, legs shamelessly akimbo under the scrutinising eyes and digits of the doctor.

While the Doctor's eyes and fingers dallied between my thighs... oh my, slipping into my role again, all flushed and vulnerable to her expert ‘examination’. It felt less like a check-up and more like pleasantly shameless abuse of… “I think we shall call this little marvel 'Little Yvonne', yes?" Nina had playfully interrupted my thoughts. "Indeed, such a delightful name for an equally delightful treat," agreed the doctor, her attention unwavering from her unabashed diddling below.

Her gaze shot up to my cheeks, brimming with colour, matching the hue of my embarrassment. "Oh look, a perfect match for your pretty, flushed face," she commented, her sincere smile matched by her own reddening at the excitement of her work. "Although previously assessed by you, Nina, may I conduct a brief experiment of my own?” She breathed, lust clearly evident in her voice, “strictly in the name of progress, naturally."

“Have at it, you dirty slut. Consider it a recompense for your tools." Nina sneered playfully, a gleam of wicked provocation in her eyes. Without a moment's delay, the Doctor had my ‘Little Yvonne' engulfed, her lips enveloping it with a slobbering fervour. "Mmm… docteur, oh!" (*"Mmm… doctor, oh! "*) I half-protested in a squeal, but it was struck down by a sharp nip, a shockwave of pleasure coursing through me. “Michelle works when we're playing doctor like this. I'll be back for plenty more of these ‘check-ups’," she winked before her mouth descended again, her tongue twirling and slurping, making ‘Little Yvonne’ throb with delight under her expert care.

Michelle's mouth was doing wonders down south but not quite reaching the climactic touch that Nina possessed. Grasping for more, I pulled her head in closer, craving that final push, but my grip was tender where it needed to be fierce. She responded by pressing atop my hands—her silent instruction clear: be bold, demand more. I obliged, holding her close until her breath mingled with the sparse tuft of my groin. For several aching moments after, I was a heartbeat away from paradise, yet not quite there.

Caught in a purgatory of pleasure, it must have painted a portrait of longing on my face because I heard Nina's silky voice slide into my ears, "Mmm… This wouldn’t do." I felt her climb behind me, her delicate hands peeling away mine from Michelle's fervent ministrations. She pulled my arms back with a soft strength, binding them with her own, my helplessness crafted by her whispers alone.

Drawing me into a sculpted incline, powerless and exposed, Nina's voice wrapped around me, "You like it when you’re defenceless, baby," the words lingered as an affirmation rather than a question. "Hands back, stay there, nice and arched," she directed, and I followed without hesitation. Obedient, quaking with anticipation, I held the arch as she rose like the dawn before me.

Her glistening treasure, so close, so beckoning, the smell, the scorching heat of her arousal filled the air, dangling just out of reach of my desperate tongue. With her desire almost brushing my lips, she held back a mere breath away, demanding, "Say the magic words, baby," her prompt was fire, and I was ash.

How swiftly "S'il vous plaît, Maîtresse," (*"please, Mistress "*) escaped me. And with those words, like a goddess responding to a divine scripture uttered, she descended upon my longing lips. Finally, tasting her after an eternity of denial, I lapped at her sacred temple with a fervour meant only for the divine.

There we were – our roles cast – Michelle clung to me, her mouth relentless, lavished her attention on my trembling lure, nipping and tugging with a gentle ferocity. And I — arching beneath Nina, my body, a temple of desire, a welcoming altar upon which she had descended.

I drank from her, a devout pilgrim at the fountain of my deity. This was the moment for cherished retribution, my chance to navigate Nina to the edge of her ecstasy—the very edge that had been my tortured refuge all of last year would now be her surrender.

Ah, but well, I was her beloved little minx, her petite treat. I might have basked in the role reversal, teasing Nina with the taste of her own medicine as she quaked, sighed, and cascaded over the brink.

Just a taste, though—a tease shouldn't overstay its welcome because, mmm, my thirst for her sweet nectar was real, and my eagerness to drink her down was torment that licked at my desires.

In a stroke of genius that only Nina's flexible body allowed, she manoeuvred her seeking mouth to where my nipple throbbed, engorged with need. While keeping me buried in her own pleasure. A skill sourced from those many sunrises spent in yoga's embrace. And as she suckled, I teetered on the cusp, my frame ready to shatter into release, but no, this dance was mine to lead. My moment to watch Nina unravel above me.

Yet, I couldn't halt Michelle's unrelenting pursuits. With my tethered hands, I could do nothing, and—Oh! The dam of my restraint broke my release, little spurts of abandon gifted into her waiting mouth, releasing each droplet of gratitude into her care.

Suppressing the reflex to pull away, I fervently continued my service. My Mistress Nina's breaths coming in short, needy bursts. Her grip tightened around my waist, drawing me closer—pulling me into her embrace. I could read her body like my favourite book, each shiver and sigh underlining a sentence in the story of her pleasure, and this chapter required that I redouble my worship.

Poor 'little Yvonne' below was valiantly weathering an onslaught. Still, she was putting up an impressive fight, steadfast in tiny rigid glory even in the throes of Michelle's almost too vigorous attention.

Then I felt it—the unmistakable quiver of her oncoming crescendo, and holding my breath, I buried myself in her depths, a torrent of relentless flicks and caresses over her swollen nub.

In that moment, the discomfort that had faded below gave way to anticipation. Michelle’s bites now edged me nearer to another peak. Clearly, the ecstasy of bringing joy to my adored Mistress outshone any mouths that had worshipped me.

And so we both crumbled—Nina's release crested with a soul-baring "ohh god baby… yes!!!!!" and I, gasping with joy at the taste of her, felt real satisfaction bloom as her legs bucked, dragging me down with her into the sheets. And then, as if my soul was attuned to her symphony, I too surrendered to yet another mind-melting release— many more dribbles and my wet little tribute to Michelle's prowess.

Mistress must've realised I was breathless, for she propped herself just so, my tongue still lavishing her with adoration, even as she extricated me from Michelle. "Mmm..sweet like honey, and slow down. She came twice just now. That seems to be a good sign. Your little cutie is multi-orgasmic now," Michelle remarked a note of wonder in her voice.

"Got it, bitch. I'll go gentle on her and yes, she tastes like fine honey. Now, get us ready for the next thing, will you?" gasped Nina, breathless even as I slid a daring finger into her heat, my tongue's pilgrimage unceasing.

Time blurred as we lost ourselves in one another's touch until I heard the heavy footsteps accompanying Michelle's return. They were more profound, laden with a confident masculinity. Trevor?

The unmistakable timbre of our groundskeeper's voice filled the room. "Whoa! Our little Yvonne and the boss lady are indeed going at it." His hearty, sincere, and definitely aroused words brought a momentary touch of the familiar, warm Trevor I knew from the past.
Not the harrowing memory of last night’s depravity.

As Mistress's lips withdrew from ‘little Yvonne’, she kissed my nub one last time before letting me go, instructing plainly, "Lose the clothes, Trevor. Remember what we agreed on?" She grinned at him, "Let's give Yvonne a good show, shall we?"

Softly, she slid out from beneath me and, with a reassuring presence, nestled me against her. Guiding me upright, her hands snug around my waist, she positioned me to face Trevor standing beside Michelle.

“Baby, I need you to express how you feel seeing him. Every bit of him. Don't censor. Just breathe out the truth.” she urged with the softest tremble that tried to hide away in her voice but could not escape my ears.”

Enveloped in the comfort of her body, warming me from behind, I looked towards Trevor. There he stood, revealed in his entirety. Six feet something, sheer brawn and undeniable masculinity. Gazing upon his slightly embarrassed, sweaty, muscular and very manly form, a result of relentless labour, and that cock—oh, that proud swinging cock—my appetite stirred.

My immediate thought was, 'Hmm, délicieux !' but it faded, a sign, perhaps, of Lynn's hypnotic influence unwinding.

Yet the yearning lingered, but not for Trevor—no, not the man, it was his cock my body ached to feel. It craved to be vigorously handled, tossed around like a plaything, to submit its willing form to the mercy of this manhood’s demand.

Evidently, parts of the hypnotic conditioning remained nestled deep within me. Yet how empowering it felt to distil someone to just their stiff, pulsating, succulent privates, mirroring how I'd been reduced to my plump, ripe mounds and 'take-me-now' bottom until mere hours ago.

And I also knew, for sure, from the quiver that had escaped her lips, that losing me to an unrelenting, meaty, and thick cock was, undeniably, Nina’s greatest unspoken fear right now.

I could almost feel the cold sweat on her skin as she contemplated me being consumed by a raw desire to worship, to be stretched and skewered, and to serve the needs of that thick organ and away from the sanctuary of her embrace.

Her silent apprehensions sent an aching throb through my heart, a powerful wish flaring to dismiss the crowd, and to just cradle her in the embrace of my comfort was overwhelming. Yet, beneath that, a rabid lust for the stiff, throbbing slab of flesh, the desire to be impaled, to feel it ruthlessly split me open, fill my every hollow, left me quaking.

The thought of being reduced to a quivering mess, drenched and defiled, and then pleading to be used again as a cum canvas, yearning to be painted with spunk. The raging flames of desire to be reduced to such delightful ruin was the stark realisation that compelled me to speak the biting truth.

It was now in my nature to submit to desire, unleashing the instinctive longing for it. The man himself was a mere footnote. It was his manhood that called to me. Ravenous for its barbaric dominance.

'Brace for the bite of pain now to avoid the torment of discovering lies later,' I reconciled internally, forcing my eyes from the enticing girth of the erection on display to confront Nina with my admission.

My choice of words was as honest as it was deliberate, "Chéri, la vue de cette bite me fait l'eau à la bouche, je te jure, je la veux partout." (*"Darling, the sight of this cock makes my mouth water, I swear, I want it everywhere."*)I continued slowly, each word crystal clear in its intent, "Je dois la déguster entièrement, la sentir dans chaque orifice." (*"I must taste it entirely, feel it in every orifice."*)

Her voice faltered, nearly lost in silence, the ghost of a tear shimmering in her eyes as she accepted, “Okay, love, tend to your hunger. I had more than an inkling that it might come to this.”

I recognised the gravity of her words, our shared secret, and hopefully, an answer to another one of her ‘prayers.’ This was a test not of obedience but of our mutual desire, one which I was determined to pass—for both our sakes.

And so, I let my cravings guide me as I edged off the comfort of our shared bed. “Quel délice," (*"What a delight,"*) I purred quietly. My descent was slow and deliberate, my knees finding their place on the ground.

Michelle's gaze, first sharpened with professional curiosity, lacking any hint of her prior arousal. But as her eyes danced between Nina and me, concern quickly etched her features. Yet, commanding my immediate attention was this pendulous, musky manhood, reeking of his daily toil, that required my devotion. I answered its call without hesitation.

I dove into my work, devouring that cock like it was my life's calling, each wet suck a primal tribute to my insatiable appetite. Gagging myself shamelessly, spit-drenched and gasping as I worshipped it with my tongue. I withdrew just enough to breathe before descending again.

His delirious groans and warped grin, as my eyes scanned upwards, were a clear badge of honour – I was drenching him in the sloppiest, most debased blowjob he'd ever been lucky enough to receive.

Submitting to a man's desires felt undeniably heady. I was the stage, and his inflated shaft and ego were the stars of the show —and therein lay the wickedness of my submissive enthusiasm. It was his necessity, not mine, that I craved to service.

It was this twisted need, my addiction, that painted this encounter with such explosive satisfaction. My experiences in the past year and Lynne’s manipulations had woven their way into my psyche and broken me in an irredeemable way.

Gobbling the engorged meatstick was blasphemy of the sweetest kind. The more I served it, the filthier I craved to become. Each glob of drool I spilt was a gift, and I slathered it all over my whimpering hole before impaling myself with my finger. I damn near choked myself with the relentless bobbing, using my gasping as a rhythm to fuck myself harder onto this dominating manhood.

I pushed to debase myself until, with a savage pull, Gripping a fistful of hair, he hauled me up, my spit-smeared lips torn from my feast and as my choking gasps of needy discontent filled the room.

As my mouth reluctantly broke away, a glistening line of drool dragged from his pulsing tip to my lips, a messy badge of my labour. Panting, he declared, "Sugar, savouring your mouth's a treat, but I've got some poundin' to do where it counts. Promised I'd give you a proper reaming. Payday comes with you ass-up and me balls-deep.”

The words struck a chord—hell, I was gagging for that savage reaming as much as he was boasting about it.

Swift as sin, I spun around and sprawled out for him on the bed, arching like a bitch in heat, my bottom in the air, offering him my moist and welcoming rosebud with a brazen grin. "Allez, grand garçon, emmène-moi à l'église," (*"Come on, big boy, take me to church,"*) I cooed with a wink.

It started off as gentle caresses and tender nudges, but then he found his rhythm, and goddamn if it didn't get ruthless. The slam of his hips, the way he claimed me, it was everything I was programmed to love.

The fierceness? Absolutely delectable—being ravished, turned into a mindless, wanton whore on display—it was a high like no other. Trevor clearly had the moves, but just like when Michelle had her mouth all over me, I was floating—in a delirious limbo but not quite hitting nirvana.

Nina, oh my Mistress, peered from across with silent, tear-brimming eyes. Her silence was her choice; I could have cut through the thick gloom at any moment, but this was Nina's trial, a necessary truth to experience with her own eyes.

However, playtime was over. She had her show, and now, it was my scene to direct. Grasping Nina's hand, I insisted, "Chérie, let's revisit that soixante-neuf... and make it snappy!" I demanded, and damn if she didn't dive right under me like a woman starved. As I plundered her depths, her tongue found its destined mark, and, oh fuck…

Completely lost in my basest state of being, I screamed, "Oui...Oooh... ahhh…merde.. Oui… plus vite... ENCORE PLUS FORT… oooh FUCK ME DAMN IT!!!!!!", my voice a clarion call to the upcoming explosion. My climax was building, explosive, but Nina—my dear goddess—deserved a universe in return.

It was time to deploy my coup de grâce. My knowledge of her body’s landscape was as intimate as my own. My guiding finger struck true—her sacred, secret instrument—and in a moment as old as time, I bestowed upon her the bite that sang to her soul. And… she exploded, her body singing like ecstasy incarnate, her thighs splayed, gushing into my mouth.

Even as the waves of pleasure seized her, leaving her at the whims of carnal spasms, she kept her greedy mouth clamped on me, suckling like a depraved angel, until my own rapture rang out across the fucking heavens. "Ooooh ma chérie, je viens, ohhhh yes...yes…FUCK YES!!!!!! The torrent was fierce, and ‘little Yvonne’ proved herself a champion, releasing dribble upon relentless dribble until I crumbled onto her, completely spent.

It wasn't long until I noticed Trevor's tempo slip; the poor dear was lost, momentarily dazed from my 'wail of the banshee routine.'

I couldn't resist but to brightly chirp, "Allez, tapez fort, c'est si bon," (*"Go on, hit it hard, it's so good,"*) really laying on the sugar. The man had put his back into it—God bless his fuck-pumping spirit—but my body wasn't about tasks well done; it ached for his cum, thick and filling.

So, as Nina and I regained our breath, I let him thrust to his brute heart's content. I had beckoned his raw instincts to take over, permitting him to hammer away until his load erupted within me, painting my insides white. My muscles working to wring out every bit of his leaking heat, literally begging his dick for every sloppy strand of his spurt.

As he withdrew moments later, his warmth sloshed around inside me, naughty squelching glorifying every clench. Feeling used by that now floppy sausage was a dirty kind of comfort but one that flickered and dissolved soon enough like the last licks of a flame.

But now that I was well-fucked and thoroughly wasted, it was time for the curtain call. Using English for the second time in forever, I said, “Trevor, honey, the show's over. Skip along now. The ladies need a gossip, especially after such a steamy battering," I sang out, a simple little order that he instantly obeyed.

Once his shuffling retreat faded, I turned to Nina, still sprawled on the bed, my rump’s precious deposit leaking down my thighs despite me trying to so hard to hold on.Nina, that well-fucked heap of my heart, still catching her breath next to me.

"Michelle," I chimed in, my words now all in English, free from the necessity of French that had been like a chain around my tongue. "Seems the world of man-parts and their offerings has taken up residence in my routine, and yet," I paused and smiled, "I've found it's an acquired taste that's best savoured when my Nina's the sterling dish by my side, or under, or atop."

My giggle drew a quick jab to the arm.”Oh, my tender flesh!" I feigned distress only to hear, "Oh, my tender flesh... mistress," as Nina retorted with mock annoyance.

Our post-romp shower, with Michelle as the unexpected but welcomed third, drenched me in warmth and tenderness. I was assaulted by kisses and cuddles from both sides, not that I was complaining, and thankfully, No skin-slapping this time. Both ‘Little Yvonne’ and I, well served, vault filled and entirely drained, were thankful for the rest.

As considerate as ever, Nina had swung us some fiery Indo-Chinese fare (yes, it's an actual thing) for lunch—talk about a palate party. Then, we lounged comfortably with full bellies and content hearts,

Nina and Michelle briefly huddled close, clearly hatching their next scheme, exchanging secret messages and then, with a cheery wave, Michelle was off.

Now that it was just the two of us, Nina prowled over with that 'I'm up to something' look. "Got one last treat for you, buttercup," her voice dripping seduction. Panic fluttered in me at the thought of another round in bed. I braced for the word, and there it was: "Shopping!" I heard myself groan internally.

---

When we breezed back into our sanctuary, our arms overflowing with the spoils of an eight-hour retail crusade. Our stash told a story of two chapters: mine, with sensible shirts and jeans, comfy sports bras, and plain panties; hers, with my body in mind, was all about turning heads and dropping jaws.

Lingerie that'd put a blush on a nun, heels that could put an eye out, and cosmetics that could launch a YouTube channel. Her clandestine diversion into the jewellers hadn’t gone unnoticed either. She's got surprises up her sleeve, the sneaky fox.

Waving the white flag was redundant; Nina had no qualms about casting me as her precious doll to dress and caress. Guess what, though? I was eating it up like a kid with cake. What can I say? Being pretty is fun.

Waking up to Nina's love-soaked world was like being reborn. She had pampered me silly, spoiling me with everything from the scented bath she prepared to the buttermilk that kissed my lips. She kept the day filled with flavours, serving up my favourite cuisine for breakfast and lunch, accompanied by the best dessert, her kisses. My heart could not help but marvel at how every gesture felt like a caress and every moment an embrace.

And the sex – oh, the sex – let's just say, it's hard to stay modest when you're entirely swept off your feet. First came Michelle’s tongue, attentively adoring 'little Yvonne' with an ardour that set me alight. Then, there was Trevor’s rough, dominating possession, rendering me a vessel of pure sensation.

They had been scornful yesterday, but today, along with Nina’s enthusiastic participation, their touches transformed into acts of reverence. My, how the turntables! As I basked in the moment, it was hard not to throw a quip at myself, thinking that if only Nina's love could be bottled up, it'd outsell the finest perfumes in Paris.

Oh of course, the pub! There was nothing fancy about it at first at least. We were dressed down when we walked in, yet you would have thought we were strutting down the runway the way those catcalls stacked up. It was like a contest, and we weren't talking about small change, more like open-bar status, thanks to many friendly gents (and a couple of ladies). Nina's tolerance hung by a silken thread while I found myself blushing so hard that you could have effortlessly cooked breakfast right upon my cheeks.

And what's a celebration without swaying hips and thumping beats? As Nina vanished momentarily to hit the ladies' room, I embraced the rhythm. Losing myself to dance with a strapping young man, my figure swaying, grinding against him like a lusty sonnet, my mind toying with the notion of devouring him—our treat for the evening's closure. Yes, the surge of surrendering to one’s craving—it was a tangible allure.

Enter the Mistress-saviour. One hot-to-trot little tart saved by the bell. "Pouvons-nous monter ce poney, s'il vous plaît ?" (*"Can we ride this pony, please?"*) I giggled into her ear as she politely dragged me. “You are one horny little delinquent,” she complained as she gave my rump a well-deserved spank.

Fun and flirting aside, while making our way back to the solitude of our bedroom, my mind just couldn't help but wonder – just how long had it been since we last shared the intimacy of this bed?

Here, we changed our skins again – Nina slipped into her skimpy black number, and I into a thin negligee that was pretty much air, stitched with thread. Beneath that, she had me wiggle into panties that cheekily declared "Nina's 'little Yvonne' " upfront, garnished with a purring kitten, too innocent-looking to be true.

The instant my back hit her front, she lured me in for a peep, spinning me into her view. A giggle spilt from her – rich and ripe with an inside joke I was yet to get. "What?" I piped up, at which point she grabbed her phone for a quick snap and showed me the evidence.

All switched up – where the maid once knelt, a drop-dead gorgeous woman now stood, chest forward in a sizzling red ensemble. Below her, the script had done a one-eighty, even switching languages. "At your service… but maybe only if you ask me nicely", it proudly declared.

'WHAT UNHOLY FUCKERY WAS THIS?' Self-altering ink? "Nina, you better make it make sense – and right-the-hell-now!" I threw the command at her, my eyes locked into hers.

Nina looked at me, dead serious."Forget the nightwear. We'll cocoon into each other for warmth. Let’s cosy up first, and then…" She hesitated, her voice softening, "Tonight, could I be your Mistress once more?" It was almost a beg—an offering of the greatest treasure I'd been deprived of—a choice.

As instinctive as my lips lust to taste her depths, the reply danced off my tongue, a submissive, wanton whisper of surrender "Bien sûr, Maîtresse," (*"Of course, Mistress,"*) my eyes lighting up at her evident delight.

Soon after the words left my lips, we found ourselves wrapped in the bed's embrace. She drew me to her chest, her breath a melody by my ear, stirring the ripples of longing.

"Tète-moi, mon trésor," (*"Suckle me, my treasure, "*) she breathed out in French this time, each syllable dripping with erotic intent.

As her fingers waltzed upon the little mound of my little cockette, the sensation was akin to a seductive siren song ensnaring every thread of my self-control. With gusto, I suckled the gift she offered. Every beat of her heart under my cheek promised her sanctuary.

I felt her nipple burgeon beneath my mouth's heat. A beacon of hardened flesh against the silk of her areola. With each shuddering breath, she released an accolade for my tireless devotion.

"Now keep suckling, love, Mistress purred, "while I tell you the story from a year ago. Of the resolution that changed everything."

Synopsis
With Rick (now almost fully Yvette) tucked away nicely, our spotlight shifts to the star of the night: our dear Doctor Valentine.

As she revels in the pleasure of remaking her past abuser, we wonder if Michelle is truly in control or if something else is pulling her strings. The thrill of bending others to her will is certainly delicious, but what happens when an unsuspecting innocent gets tangled in this web?

How thin is the line between rightful domination and becoming exactly what she once despised? Michelle may love her newfound role, but will she stop before she’s gone too far? Will she even want to stop if the deeper she falls, the better it feels?

Author's Note
Hello, lovely readers! I hope this chapter pushes the boundaries AND reflects what I hope is an evident improvement in my storytelling skills.

As always, the magic tied to the Box of Resolutions remains an endless playground of possibilities—and Chapter 8 takes us deeper into the darker recesses of this Author's fantasies. If you love psychological horror/power plays, you’re in for a treat this chapter.

Feel free to reach out with thoughts, and as always, thank you for continuing this journey with me! Enjoy every wicked detail, and remember, magic has no limits, and neither does your imagination when your desires are involved.

On Images: Like the last chapter, this one contains several NSFW images, but just before, you will need to click the links to view the contents. Again, I have explicitly mentioned, 'Click the link below to find out.' As always, the images are entirely optional, and I do not want you to have to view them. However, like before, I do believe they add a layer of 'depth'.

Binding Resolutions Chapter 8: In devotion and service

Ahhh... the satisfaction of applying my craft. Yvette was well sedated and deep in sleep now. The former Rick Longwood, my little Yvette, was well on her way to 'lick my wood.' Ha! Poor darling, the trauma had been necessaryᅳa crucial step in ensuring she harboured no hope of ever regaining her manhood.

Stockholm syndrome was a necessary evil. Rick's... no... MY magnificent cock nowᅳwasted on that swineᅳwould serve a far greater purpose. It would make Yvette squeal with overwhelming joy, if I may add. Ahhh... Swine, squeal... Oh, I'd never call Yvette a swine, though… but my little Miss Piggy? Now, that's a lovely costume idea.

Brushing that ever-annoying stray lock of hair away from my face, I grinned with satisfaction. As always, my workᅳwhether aided by magic or notᅳwas magnificent. Already, the discolouration and swelling were receding. Almost two days' worth of healing in under an hourᅳremarkable. The possibilities this magic offered... oh my. If only I had discovered it sooner. Perhaps I might have even saved some of the women Rick had abused.

But tonight wasn't about redemption or revenge. Noᅳtonight was about completing my new acquisitions. The night was still young, and there was plenty more work to be done.

My gaze lingered on the glass container holding HIS. No, there was no "his" or "him" anymore. Just my precious cock.

Ahhh, what a wonderful specimen it was, suspended in the nutrient solution. Big, beautiful, tanned, and dare I say, wholesome. The skin, the musculature, the veins, the size, the pink bulbous head... perfect, virile, intoxicating. Mmmm, I thought as a shiver ran through me. Ooooh. Wet already?

Let me check... for science, of course. Oh my, I tasted so much sweeter just being near it. Another mental note... purely for research, naturally. But what about Yvette? How would she taste? I already knew what my lovers said about meᅳthat my crotch was something incredibleᅳbut hers? I had crafted it myself, a tribute to perfection, much like Eve's.

She'd likely taste like ripe nectar, warm and inviting. Using my cock on her would be utterly satisfyingᅳbeing used by it? Even more so. Ohhh, the endless ways I would treasure my new appendage… no, cock. That was the word that best suited it, and that was the only way I would address it.

Okay, back to business. Setting aside the more intimate plans for now, I realized that the magic could speed up the process. I had planned to pace the procedures over multiple sessions. I would give her plenty of time to heal after each one but this magic changed the game. Why wait things out when I could accomplish everything in one night?

Sparing Yvette from the trauma of multiple surgeries would be the kind and merciful thing to do. And I had promised Yvette pleasure, not pain. It was best to complete everything in one goᅳa clean slate for my brand-new, most loveable little slut.

I almost chuckled at the irony. Meᅳa surgeon by tradeᅳpreparing for a sequence of complex surgeries. Some I had never performed before, and a few only possible in theory, all to be completed in one night. Playing Godᅳor rather, mmm...Goddess.

First on the agenda, however, was Carlᅳthe bionics expertᅳwaiting in the adjacent lab. Thank God for small conveniences. My private clinic and lab were so conveniently attached to my home. It provided the perfect base of operations for tonight. Proximity was essential, especially for the immediate next steps. Preserving MY precious cock and testing my hypothesis on 'theoretical possibilities'.

With the utmost care, I wheeled in the cock container... Ohhh, there are so many medically appropriate phrases to use, but this one fits best right now. There he was, Carl, absorbed in his tablet as usual. Unaware of the magnitude of what he was about to handle.

His nonchalant demeanour did nothing to hide his exceptional talent. Carl, the bionic specialistᅳthe best on this side of the country, my dear friendᅳand now that I knew about the magic, my guinea pig in tonight's game.

Now, I could observe the power that this magic wielded and test its limits. Time to start making notes. As I wheeled the cart up to him, he lifted his head and quickly processed the contents within the glass container.

“There it is,” he acknowledged, lifting his head as I approached. “Hey, Michelle. Seems like everything went off without a hitch?”
“I prefer 'Doctor' tonight. And yes, Carl," I replied, nodding to the scrubs I had hastily put back on before leaving the operating room. "Everything was perfect, just as this will be, now that it's in your capable hands," I said, even as my hands brushed the glass container. "Ready?"

Carl's eyes broke momentarily from his tablet, now focusing on my cock with more intensity. The usual glint of professionalism turned into something darker as his jaw stiffened. Hmmm… looks like the cock didn't spare men either.

"This... looks fantastic," he murmured, marvelling at it with what was clearly more than just professional admiration. He adjusted his gloves, but his professional air seemed to dissolve more with each passing second.

I reached out to the taser hidden behind the trolley as he glanced at me for permission to handle it. I just needed to make sure that whoever held the cock wouldn't suddenly be able to claim its power. “Go ahead, Carl. Feel free to handle MY cock,” I said calmly. Just a stake of claim as insurance.

“Your cock...” he muttered, his voice distant as his eyes briefly glazed over. He withdrew the severed cock from the fluid with little regard for sterility and began to inspect it.

“The testicles?” I arched an eyebrow at his pause while taking mental notes of the cock's effects on him, my grip tightening on the taser.
"They'll act as natural batteries, storing nutrients from the user's body," Carl said clinically, but his tone had shifted. “They'll store any unused dischargeᅳreal-time emission on demand.” He paused, rolling them between his fingers almost... reverently. “Bio-organic nanotechnology, similar to the mechanisms found in electric eels. It ensures both mechanical and biological fidelity.”

"Additionally," he added, swallowing slightly as a small blush crept onto his face. "It will simulate full sensory engagement for the recipient. This 'immersion,' I can assure you, will make every orgasm feel completely authentic.”

I smirked, catching the cracks in his professional façade. "Quite impressive, Carl." My voice was soft but brimming with control. The only slip-ups allowed tonight would be courtesy of Carl's mouth and gaze. Both of which already made it obviousᅳthis thing wasn't just something he admired. It was weakening him, unravelling him with every passing second. Time to test my little hypothesis.

Just then, I shook myself out of the moment. This technology didn't exist yet but Carl must believe it does. Thanks to the magic though, just for tonight, just this beautifully twisted moment, perhaps it did. Only for my wonderful cock, though.

"Ever think about how it feels?" I asked, locking eyes with him.

Carl baulked. His eyes wavered, unsure, before they trailed back to the cock. "N-no... not like that," he stammered, but the strength in his voice had already drained away.

"Have you ever thought about how it would feel, Carl?" I pressed, turning what should have been a clinical moment into something slippery and dangerous.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes flicking anxiously between me and the cock. "Well... Kelly... she..." He trailed off, realising he was treading on dangerous ground. Then, hastily added, “I mean, we... maybe we could borrow it for later?” he admitted, blushing furiously.

Time to push harder. "Carl, look at it. Keep looking." My voice slipped into a lower, more commanding octave.

The air between us thickened noticeably, and Carl, helpless now, followed my instructions as expected. His gaze locked onto the severed cock, the glazed look returning to his eyes and deepening further. Very, very interesting.

"What if it only came attached to another man?" My words dripped with suggestion, turning Carl's uncertainties against him.

A flush crawled up his neck, obvious signs of conflict flickering in his eyes. A beat passed. Then, a sharp intake of breath. "Not... not like that," he murmured his weak denial. His words sounding more like a whimper than a protest.

"Look at it again, Carl," I commanded, keeping my voice carefully controlled. His eyes flicked back to the cock involuntarily. This time, his jaw slackened as if he were falling into a trance. Fascinating. "Now, what if it came attached to another man?" I repeated.

"Yes, maybe?" he hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper.

Bingo. My grip on the taser loosened slightly. Men like Rick would never tolerate the presence of another empowered man. Weak men strike viciously, whether openly or in secret; a coward's arrow is easily hidden or exposed, as needed. This cock was meant to make any good man feel inadequate, and Rick would have baked that into his resolution.

I was certain of its effects as I watched Carlᅳa strong, capable, intelligent manᅳsquirm under the weight of his own thoughts. "Ever thought about it before?

He stayed silent, but I ignored his weakening resistance and pressed on. "Don't take your eyes off it, Carl. Now, imagine that man fucking your wife while you watch. Do you want that, Carl?"

His lips parted, his voice barely audible as the cock's pull ensnared him further. "I... I don't know," he managed with an evident mix of horror and arousal.

"Keep looking at it, Carl. Would Kelly want it?" I whispered, my words weighted with intent. Carl trembled, succumbing further to the cock's influence. "I hope not... maybe?" he stuttered.

"She wouldn't, but this thing..." Carl continued, digging his own grave, struggling...and failing to look away. His eyes remained fixed as if compelled by this incredible force.

I pressed harder, brushing off whatever little protests he may have in him. "Eyes on the cock Carl. Tell me the truth." His breath hitched, his voice cracked, and the words that sealed his fate came: "Yes."

Gotcha!

It was time to ramp up the test. I moved closer, narrowing the distance between us to mere inches. Leaning in, I brought my lips right next to his ear. His pulse quickenedᅳI could feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

I was the predator, he the prey. Mmm... delicious. My nipples hardened, and the dampness between my thighs felt exquisite even as the tension filled the air. Placing one hand on his chest, I could feel his heart hammering beneath my fingers.

It took little effort to grab his belt and pull down his trousers with my free hand.

Startled, he stammered, "No, DoctorᅳI'm marriedᅳ"

"Oh, relax, my dear Carl," I whispered, inspecting what he was working with. Yes, he was reasonably endowed, but I wasn't about to let him know that. Not yetᅳnot now.

As decent as it was, it was thoroughly outclassed by the piece he was holding. He needed to feel inadequate, thoroughly unmanned by what he held in his hands for my experiment. “Keep looking at it.”

As I looked down, I made sure disappointment was evident in my expression as I scrutinised him. The poor bastard stood frozen, unable to moveᅳtrapped by the magic and his shame. Good.

“Your lovely wife, Kelly, and this incredible cock we're talking about,” I said with a sly grin. “Such a cute, petite little beauty she is. Could've ended up with a proper stallion instead of settling for you, don't you think?” Mmm… I let the words seep into Carl before continuing. "Quite a pity that this…” I glanced with disdain at his erection, "...is all she has to work with."

Carl hesitated, shame washing over him but even as his humiliation deepened, his cock only grew harderᅳalmost painfully so. A fact made all too clear by his strained expression. He nodded slowly, humiliation etched across his face. "Yes."

"Shall we discuss how she'll feel when a real man shows her what she's been missing?" I asked with a predatory smile as my fingertip lightly traced a line down the shaft of his cock, my nail barely grazing the surface. "I never told you to stop looking at it, Carl."

"Please... no... not in front of this... thing," Carl added, trying and failing to summon his composure.

Ignoring his pleas, I continued to drag my nail slowly and teasingly along his lengthᅳjust enough to make him shudder. "Mmm... diminutive really,” I murmured, watching his reaction. The word dripped from my lips with exaggerated intent, slicing deeper. “A pity,” I twisted the knife further. “Don't stop looking, Carl.”

His gaze reluctantly returned to the cock suspended in glass, his breath growing shallow and uneven.

“How long have you and Kelly been trying for a child, Carl?” I whispered intimately into his ear. I already knew the answer. This question would break him.

“C-c-close to two years now,” he stuttered, the weight of the implication sinking in.

I dragged my nail lazily up his shaft again, this time slower, smiling at the way his entire body tensed under my touch. "Mmm... enough about you two. Let's talk about who will really matter to Kelly from now on," I purred. My voice sinuous, my touch never a full gripᅳjust the teasing, scratching, edge of my nail as it danced atop his growing erection.

"Imagine, Carl... someone bigger than youᅳstronger, far more masculine than you'll ever hope to be... fucking your wife right in front of you." I traced the underside of his shaft, making him shudder harder. "Both of them, in your bed while you stand there, helpless, and hopelessly play with yourself. Keep... looking at the cock, Carl."

I let the silence hang between us for a beatᅳjust long enough for him to writhe and squirm under his own shame. Then I leaned closer, twisting the words like a scalpel. "*Play* with your little penis, Carl... not even worth calling a dick. 'Penis' is the proper medical term, after all."

I let the cruel words sink in, savouring the way his body trembled, weighed down entirely by his humiliation. "So, we'll stick with thatᅳyour little penis, Carl. Such a fitting name, don't you think?"

Carl gasped, his breath loud and sharp. I smiled, my nail tracing a sharper line, adding a little more pressure. His face flushed a deep crimson, his humiliation pouring off him in waves.

"Now, describe Kelly for me, Carl," I whispered into his ear. "Her lips..."

His voice was weak, trembling. "Her lips are full... soft... they taste like strawberries..." He stammered the words out like confessions.
"Do they feel warm, Carl? Wrapped around your little penis?" I mocked, tilting my head like I actually cared. My nail traced just beneath the sensitive ridge near the tip of his cock, teasing him with a barely-there touch.

"Y-yes... very warm," he panted, his hips jerking slightly in response to the teasing.

I tilted my head, my voice dropping to a slow, mocking drawl. "But tell me... do you think she even feels its warmth?" I let the words linger as my nail continued to ghost over him. "Really feels it?" I scoffed, never breaking eye contact, watching his face flush deeper with embarrassment. "With that size, you're lucky she bothers sucking it at all. Do you really think it's enough to make her feel anything more than pity?"

I paused for a moment, revelling in his growing shame before continuing. "And speaking of warmth, Carl," I purred, my nail now lightly scraping along his shaft, "How exactly will you make sure this cock maintains it?" My voice turned sharp as I commanded an answer.

"Thermal micro-regulators will activate upon contact, maintaining an ambient temperature. The skin will mimic body heat," he explained, then added, almost as if in a daze, "Her lips will feel its warmth."

I made a mental note of what he said. Artificial muscles warming up like real flesh. Another entirely non-existent piece of technology that Carl now seemingly had access to.

"Perfect for when she gags on it, right? Can you see her whore her lips out for his cock?" I asked, continuing to trace my nail lightly along his shaft.

His face flushed a deeper red, the shame and this enforced desire warring within him now. "Yes," he murmured even as he broke a little more.
I gently jabbed at the base with my nail. "Has she ever deep-throated you, Carl?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

He swallowed hard as he stammered, "No, she doesn't do it... she doesn't like it."

"Oh, she won't just deep-throat his cock," I sneered in delight. "She'll beg for it, Carl. She'll drool over every inch, her mouth watering as she takes him in." My nail continued to trace that slow, deliberate path along his shaft, as my words continued to add to his rising torment.

"She'll be his little bitch in heat. Crawling on all fours, slutting herself out for him, whenever and wherever he asks her to. She'll wait eagerly for her cues like a trained pet," I whispered, chuckling as his cock twitched again.

I leaned in closer, my voice nearly tipping into a soft purr. "But this time, oh, her first time with him, Carlᅳ*your* Kelly, that pretty little wife of yoursᅳ*will be in your bed*." I paused for effect, my eyes boring into his.

"Carl's future former bed." I let those final words float in the air until they sunk into him.

"Imagine her doing for him what she would never ever do for you, Carl," I whispered, the heat of my words sinking into his already broken psyche. "Just to be his slut. To debase herself only for him. What a show it would be, huh?"

I allowed the image to settle in his mind, savouring the visible torment in his eyes. "Watching her swollen eyes water in joy..." I continued slowly, "as she gags on his girth, her throat wrapping itself around him, struggling to take him deeper. And yet, she'll want it, Carl. She'll crave it. She'll gag and choke herself on his cock just to please him."

I could sense every detail of his internal devastation as I spoke. "The sound of her gagging will fill the room as his entire length stretches her throat. Then, when he finally pulls her face towards him, she'll swallow it all."

I tilted my head ever so slightly like a predator just before the kill. “Glugh, glugh, glughᅳyou'll hear it, Carl. A sound you won't be able to forget... ever!"

Mmm... I caught the twitch in his jaw, just what I wanted. "Drool will spill from her swollen lips in messy strings, dripping down her chinᅳtrailing from her lips to his shaft. The spit will be all over her, dribbling on to her tits and belly."

I could picture it myself, the imagery soaking me in my own juices as I spoke...delicious!

"When she finally comes up for air, gasping for breath," I paused. Letting Carl fully sink into the darkest depths of his own imagination, now completely beyond his rational control. "Her glazed eyes will show nothing but her desperate eagerness, Carl."

Just then, I took a moment to lock eyes with him. Ohhh...the flush of humiliation visibly overwhelming him was only getting more delicious by the minute. "Meanwhile, you'll stand there, stroking your sad, pathetic little penis. Won't you, Carl?"

I dragged my nail forward, pressing it against his urethra. My touch was only meant to induce more than a little discomfort.

"Yes," he stammered, tears almost ready to flow, his voice reduced to a barely audible whisper. Time to push harder.

"Best it stays limp from now on, don't you think?" I murmured, leaning closer, my breath hot on his ear. I nipped sharply at his earlobe, eliciting a pathetic yelp.

Instantly, I felt him shrivel, his cock going flaccid, shrinking away as though in fear, even as my nail pressed harder into his pee hole. A small dribble of pre-cum begrudgingly leaked onto my nail.

I wasn't having any of that.

With a menacing smile, I jabbed harder, blocking the hole and swiftly extinguishing any hope of relief. As expected, his gasp was sharp, and his body was trembling even as his penis wilted entirely.

"Say it, Carl. Tell me what I want to hear," I hissed into his ear.

"She'll love slobbering over his cock while I play with my pathetic penis," he whispered, shame dripping from every word.

"Not just love, Carl. She'll be obsessed, won't she?" I spoke very slowly. He was going to feel every ounce of weight behind my words.
"Yes, she'll be obsessed," Carl replied, his voice trembling with humiliation.

"Obsessed with what, Carl?" I asked, feigning ignorance. I was going to draw out his torment, and at this moment, oh yes.
"Obsessed with his cock," he answered, fully downing in his humiliation now.

"And you, Carl?" I pressed further, narrowing my eyes to get the message across clearly. "You know he'll give her what you never could. Do you now realise how inadequate you really are?"

"Yes," he gasped, tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to spill over. Just a little harder.. or softer. This was my moment, time to reap my rewards.

"Yes, what, Carl?" I was unyielding and merciless. Any time now.

"I see how inadequate I am," he admitted, his voice cracking under the crushing burden of his shame.

"And while you're standing there, still diddling with your sad little self," I added, twisting the knife, "you'll realise how pathetic you are, won't you?"

"Yes," he sobbed, barely able to form the words, his voice faltering.

"Yes, what, Carl?" I asked again, savouring every moment of his torment.

And just like that, the floodgates fell apart. "I'll realise how pathetic I am," he wailed, tears now pouring down his face, even as his cock twitched futilely against my nail.

"You'd better make sure this is worthy of deep-throating, Carl," I told the crybaby. "Every muscle needs to twitch and move just right... perfection. The ultimate experienceᅳfar beyond what your sad little appendage could ever offer. Do you understand, Carl?"

"Yes," he panted, trying to cling to whatever shred of dignity remained.

"Yes, what, again, Carl?"

"I'll make sure it's perfect," he promised, broken.

"Perfect for who, Carl?" I asked, driving the dagger even deeper.

"Perfect for him... and Kelly," he answered, utterly defeated.

"Perfect for him... and Kelly," he answered, utterly defeated.

"How would you ensure that, Carl?" I prompted, keeping him firmly under my nail. His eyes remained glued to my cock.

Carl, still gasping and flustered, obeyed as instructed. "I'll incorporate responsive nerve fibresᅳcapable of precision contractionsᅳlifelike movements. It will respond to every touchᅳmaking it feel alive," he stammered through the desperation. Each word seeming to draw him deeper into his helpless obsession.

Responsive nerve fibres capable of precision contractionsᅳanother impossibility now made real. The magic was so powerful it bent the rules of science itself. Why wasn't it everywhere already?

"Her eyes, Carl... Describe them to me," I hissed deeper, stepping closer, my presence tight against him.

"They're beautiful," Carl stuttered, swallowing hard. "A deep hazel... almond-shaped... They light up when she smiles..."

"Mmm… Do they light up and roll back when you enter her, Carl? Does YOUR little penis make her eyes flutter with bliss?" I sneered, leaning closer, keeping my other hand his chest as I watched him writhe.

He fumbled for words, swallowing down his shame. "IᅳI mean, yes..." Carl replied, though the words cracked in his throat like always.
I raised an eyebrow and let silence stretch, letting him stew in my unyielding gaze. “Really, Carl? Do they?” My lips curled.

He faltered, the slightest quiver in his voice. "IᅳI mean... maybe... sometimes..."

"Hmmm..." I scoffed, letting disappointment taint my tone. "Maybe? Poor little liar. We both know she's pretending.” He blinked, uncertain, shame fully tightening every muscle in his slack body as my words became the new truth that would slice him open.

“Now imagine, Carl…” I whispered, filling the gap with malice. “*That man*ᅳ*him*ᅳmaking her eyes roll backᅳgenuine, raw ecstasy ripping through her because of a real cock inside her. Think of her hazel eyes fluttering back into her lovely head as she screams out for more. Make sure that gets burned into your mind. That's what my cock needs to live up to, Carl. That's how perfect it needs to be.” My every word knifing deeper now.

"And after she has worshipped him with her mouth," I continued, my voice as sharp as the heel of a stiletto. "Imagine her welcoming him with her sweet, wet twat. Picture her eyes meeting yours as she lays back, legs spread, her body wide open."

Carl's soft, useless cock twitched involuntarily, but I immediately jabbed hard into the tip. He yelped againᅳpathetic, weak, brokenᅳand I watched him squirm. No relief, no reprieve.

“Imagine her," I pressed on, leaning into another emasculating blow, " lying there, looking at you with pity and disgust... Her cunt soaked for someone else, while you stand off to the side, watching as he pushes deep into her body.” I dragged each word out, giving space for every thrust of my imagery.

His breath grew uneven, trembling under me. His impotent cock simply flaccid and twitching had entirely betrayed him by now.

"His first thrust, Carl. Visualize it with me." I purred, my voice soft as silk, wrapping tighter around his psyche. "The gasp that escapes her lips. The desperate moan as she arches her back higher off the bedᅳher body trembling because he's effortlessly reaching places you never could. Filling her so much deeper than you ever dreamed."

Carl's chest heaved as his body trembled, his feeble cock giving one last pitiful twitch.

"And then," I continued, my voice had dropped dangerously low, "they both look at your fucking useless face. Don't worry, though, Carl." I whispered softly now, like I was confiding something, "She's already cumming. Over...and over...and over... because of himᅳnot because of you. She's his now, body and soul. And their pleasure only grows from watching you.”

I jabbed my fingernail mercilessly again, watching as Carl convulsed helplesslyᅳflustered... ruined. By now, the poor idiot was practically keening, so lost to my control that any memory of his former life would melt away if I willed it. His fingers clutched desperately at the severed, enchanted cock, as if it could somehow save himᅳthough all it did was drown him deeper.

"You will make that cock perfect, Carl," I emphasized, my voice rising, pouring authority into each word. "Every nerve, every muscle. It needs to trigger ecstasy in every part of her." Even my voice seemed to twist deeper into his crumbling psyche, breaking him further.

"W-what about neuro-stimulation?" I asked, feigning interest, knowing full well he wasn't capable of resistance nowᅳhe would obey anything I said.

Carl, now nearly incoherent from his breakdown, stammered, "I-I'll incorporate bio-responsive nerve fibers... o-organic micro-actuatorsᅳlike cephalopods' sensesᅳreading feedback perfectly...adjusting to every m-movement, in real-time... it'llᅳit'll adapt to every thrust."

Cephalopods? Organic micro-actuators? His broken mind was babbling impossible fantasies, yet I knew they would become realᅳat least for my cock. The magic would see to that.

"Good," I said, dismissing the miracles he was engineering as though they were insignificant. "It's not just tech, Carl, it's art. Every detail must be artᅳall for Kelly."

"Yes..." he whimpered, tears now streaming down his wretched face. "She'll love... it…”

I stepped back slightly, removing my hand from his chest, letting the full weight of his situation sink in. As I tapped a finger against my jaw while I stood in place, I could feel myself circling his mind. Weaving my words into his thoughts like a predator. “And her hair, Carl?”

He answered quickly, afraid to disobey. "It's short, shoulder-length, and wavy. It's beautifulᅳyou can grab a hold of it..." His voice trembled, his body shuddering uncontrollably now.

"Perfect to grab hold of when she's on all fours," I taunted, a knowing smirk curling my lips. As his legs shook beneath him, I decided to go deeper. "Does she arch her back for you, Carl?"

He squirmed, his gaze fixed shamefully on the ground. "Yes..." he whispered faintly, though his voice betrayed the lie.

I scoffed with disdain, keeping his gaze locked on me. "Poor... little liar," I purred, every syllable dripping with sadistic knowing. "You think your withered penis could make anyone arch back? It never didᅳand it certainly won't anymore."

Right on cue, Carl's eyes welled with fresh tears.

I tightened my nail's pressure on his shaft, a sharp flick sending another wave of pain through him. He twitched helplessly, a pathetic gasp escaping his lips. "Don't be such a coward, Carl," I sneered. "You know Kelly hasn't cum in forever. She's waitingᅳ*whether she says it out loud or not*ᅳfor someone who grabs her hair the right way. Someone who bends her the right way." My voice brimmed with my concocted derision now.

Carl was breakingᅳhis whole frame shook as though he were an earthquake caught in the throes of decay. I ran my fingertips teasingly over his temple, watching him continue to crumble before me.

"Imagine her on all fours, Carl," I whispered, leaning closer to drive in the image. " ass in the air, legs spread so wide, begging her man... someone with real strength and power." I paused, letting the venom in my voice seep deeper. "*Not you*, Carlᅳ*never you*."

I leaned toward him and nipped his ear sharply again, feeling him jerk in response to my bite. "Does she ever squeal when you pull her hair hard, Carl?" I asked coldly.

He shook his head, as tears spilled freshly from his eyes. "No... she doesn't like that," he admitted weakly, his entire form sagging under my gazeᅳbroken beyond repair.

I laughed, malicious and mocking. "She certainly won't, Carl." I let my eyes flick down to his limp member. "Not when all she gets from you is that disappointment hanging uselessly between your legs."

I ensured my concocted disdain was evident when I mentioned his name this time.

"Picture it, Carl." My voice dropped to a simmer, dangerous and slow. "She's going to be his little bitch… his little piggy, getting pounded into whoredom. Isn't that right, Carl?"

Carl completely broke down, full-blown tears streaming down his face. His voice trembling like a leaf barely holding on to its branch. "Yes… his little piggy." He was sobbing now, barely intelligible. "I-I can never be as good… as that man," he croaked, shuddering in defeat. His frail body trembled as his spirit disintegrated further under my words.

I leaned in close, my breath a devil's caress now. "How do you think she'll look back at you, Carl?" I whispered, every syllable heavy with mock sympathy. "She'll pity you at most, jerking that shameful little penis of yoursᅳeven as he's tattooing himself into her hungry cunt. Laughing, Carl… at you." My words purposefully stripped away the remnants of his dignity.

"From that moment on, every time she even thinks of your little penis, she'll giggle just remembering how little she had to work with before. She will mock you every single time you try to worm your way between her legs. What do you think, Carl?"
Carl's face flushed deeper, beads of sweat mixing with the torrent of tears running down his cheeks. "Yes," he whimpered between sobs. "Yes, she will laugh at me."

"Kiss it," I commanded softly. My lips curled into a smile as I watched his eyes widen at what I meant. "Kiss it, Carl," I repeated, leaning in to whisper into his ear. I pulled my head back, savoring the chaos swirling through him as he trembled. Hesitant at first, but eventually giving in, he leaned toward the severed cock as if it were an altar of submission. With final shame, he pressed his lips against it.

"Good," I purred, relishing the delicious sight of him debasing himself. "Now, do it properly, Carl."

My smile widened as he did as instructed. "Can you hear her, Carl?" I teased. "Imagine her screaming, moaning, telling him ᅳno, telling you ᅳhow much better he is than you. Every thrust, every movement perfectly tuned to her desires." I leaned further in, my lips brushing his ear, each word sending shivers down his spine. "Making her body sing, Carl. Singing in ways you never could."

Carl's sobs filled the silence, punctuating every single pulse of his torment.

"Make sure every detail of that is perfect, Carl," I hissed, savouring the torment. "Her every gasp, every moan should remind you of how much more of a man he is than you. This needs to give her what you'll never be able to."

I moved in closer, my teeth finding the soft edge of his ear to biteᅳnot painfully, just enough to make Carl shiver. "Now," I breathed into his ear, "what about her gasps, Carl? How will you ensure the sounds his cock will pull from her?"

Still catching his breath, Carl nodded frantically. "I-Integrated sensory amplifiers," he stammered, barely coherent. "A-and chemical-release synthetic glands. Capable of emitting low-voltageᅳahᅳelectrical discharges." He gasped for air. "They'll release small doses of natural hallucinogens like p-psilocybin. It'll… It'll amplify her senses, heighten her… pleasure." His breaking point was near.

I leaned in, my lips wickedly close to his tear-streaked cheek. "Ohhh… she will be hooked," I purred menacingly. "She'll never care about you again. Pathetic little Carl. Will she care?"

Carl let out another broken whimper, almost inaudible. "No," he moaned, "She won't care about me again."

"Good, Carl..." I hissed, letting the words trail off, a chilling reminder of everything he had become. "Now… kiss it again. Consider it an advance payment for her pleasure. You understand, don't you?"

Carl shook but obeyed, leaning in again, his lips brushing the cock. I let the moment hang, the satisfaction of entirely dismantling a man felt incredible indeed.

As he pulled back, I pressed further. "How will he connect to it, Carl?" I asked, genuinely curious now. "What's the integration process? How will this become part of him?"

Carl choked out a response. "O-Organic DNA chips… for data storage and processing," he trembled, barely keeping his voice steady. "It's seamless... Integration with the user's skin… One with him..."

"One with him and her," I echoed, "just when his cock will be swallowed whole by her moist, wet and most welcoming folds… perfect and organic." Every syllable that escaped my lips was meant to taunt.

Carl's weeping intensified. "Yes," he whispered feebly.

I stepped back slightly, still watching him crumble. Perfect. Everything was falling into place.

"And her nipples?" I asked, tilting my chin slightly as I studied himᅳall the while guiding Carl deeper into the abyss of his own humiliation.
"Small…pink…incredibly sensitive," he whispered breathily, his voice quivering. "They harden at the slightest touch."

"Mmm, just like my cock should, hmm?" I murmured, relishing his discomfort. "And you'll make sure of it, won't you, Carl?" My words were a taunt, wrapping around him like a vice.

He nodded weakly, his body slouching further under my ever-tightening grip on him. "Y-Yes..." He panted, and his eyes darted with anxiety.
Without breaking eye contact, I brought my fingers deliberately to my lips. I Curled one finger past the threshold and wet it on the pad of my tongue while Carl watched. I took my time, letting the moment build as I sucked hard on that single finger, ensuring Carl could see every move.

Finally, I let my hand travel lowerᅳdragging the wet fingertip across my collarbone in a deliberate arc, teasing him with slow precision. And then finally, with maddening slowness, I let my hand graze over the curve of my left breast.

"As for nipples..." I whispered, my fingers finding the buttons of my scrub top.

Slowly—**deliberately**—I unfastened each one, exposing more and more skin until my left breast finally spilled free from its confines, the swollen nipple gleaming under the clinic lights.

Carl's eyes widened as I left my breast hang in front of him. My wet finger circled my nipple languidly, making the nub visibly harden under my touch. "This," I continued, voice dripping with cruel satisfaction, "…*Carl*, is what a real man gets."

His cock twitched, though it remained utterly limp against my nail. How far had I brought him down that his body was both responding and failing him simultaneously?

"Yes," he gasped, eyes locked in a desperate gaze on my bare breast, watching as I teased and played with my now ripe nipple.
"Tell me, Carl," I purred, "describe it to me. How does my breast compare to Kelly's?" The question was a loaded one, designed to disarm him even more.

Carl swallowed, struggling to force a coherent sentence from his lips. "K-Kelly's… small... her breasts are small, soft... upturned…"
His voice trailed off, his gaze flicking between my body and the floor. It was as though he wanted to avoid the truth hanging in the airᅳbut I hadn't finished with him yet. Not even close.

"Small, hmm...?" I smirked purposefully, watching his face twitch with discomfort. “Even better, Carlᅳ*like a little girl's breasts*, huh?” My voice dripped with feigned innocence, but I could see the impact those words had on him as anxiety instantly flashed across his eyes. “You know what they say about girls with little boobies, don't you?” I continued, never loosening my grip on his shredded ego. “*They love being manhandledᅳspanked, bitten, smacked…ragdolled.” I leaned closer as I dragged my wet fingers once more over my stiff nipple. My voice sinking lower as I added, “Ever try that with Kelly, Carl?"

The question hung between us, cold and cutting. Carl shook his head frantically, voice choking on itself. "N-No, Kelly's not like that… she wouldn't…"

I laughed, just a scoff though. I reached out to place just one finger on his chest, tracing with just enough pressure to keep him aware of the power dynamic between us.

"*Aww,* not like thatᅳjust with you, Carl." The words were intended to cut through him. "Poor boy, such a fool." I shook my head with a manufactured pity heavy enough to bury him in shame.

“*Wimp*,” I sneered. "You really thought Kelly would submit to you?" I asked, my tone like silk laced with a harsh sting. "No, Carl. She wouldn't submit to anyone who isn't a real man."

Carl's breath hitched as he continued to shatter further under the growing layers of humiliation.. His mouth parted as though to respond, but I knew he had nothingᅳnothing worth saying.

"Don't you see?" I continued, letting those words sink into his fracturing psyche. "When she meets him, Carl... a real man, she'll have no free will of her own. None. She won't even need it. She'll be his. Subservient to his desires and his alone."

His broken voice rasped as he whimpered, "Yes..."

"She’ll lay there, wanting to be used. And no matter what he wants, Carl, she’ll eagerly obey because she’ll need him like air. His desires will be hers—*your* desires... you will be irrelevant."

My fingers gave my nipple a slow, sensual pinch, eliciting a slight shiver even from my own body. But God, how it visibly tortured him to watch.
I took a step closer, ensuring my exposed breast hung just centimetres from his face. He could look. He could yearn. But he couldn’t touch.

"Look at me, Carl," I demanded. His gaze flew upward, locking onto my breast as it blocked his view. I continued to tease my nipple, dragging my dampened finger over the hardened bud, savoring the power I held over him now. "This, Carl... this is what that real man earns."
I let the silence thicken like poison, watching him squirm and die a little more inside, unable to tear his eyes away from my deliberate movements. His cock remained limp and useless, twitching like it wanted to hope again... haha!

I pressed further, leaning close to his flushed face. I noticed the shame deepen in his eyes. "You’ll never recognize her again once her new master fully owns her—her real master."

"Say it, Carl," I whispered dangerously. "Say that you know all she ever wanted was a real man. A man who would never give her a choice."
Carl gasped, struggling to form the words. "Sh-She’ll... she’ll... have no say... she’ll submit..." His voice cracked, tears brimming as he gave in to the new reality I was forcing upon him.

"Good boy..." I purred, my smirk widening as my fingers continued to circle my erect nipple. "You’re finally beginning to understand..."

I let my breast graze just shy of his trembling lips, never letting him close the distance. I made sure every ounce of his anguish—for what he had and would never have—burned brightly in his eyes, even though I had already rendered him impotent.

“Now that you understand who a real man is Carl," I purred, running a finger along his cheek. “Let's talk about stamina, shall we? What about the stamina of this perfect cock? How long will it last?”

Carl's voice quivered as he spoke between his sobs. “Th-The power source,” he gulped, “it’s unique. Bio-organic, regenerative… it’ll keep going as long as the man has the strength. And if needed, the energy regulators can be upgraded to ensure continuous performance. Far beyond any natural limitations. The thermal balance will stay perfect—always warm, always ready. And,” he hesitated slightly to wipe the tears from his eyes, then continued, “the sperm... I-I can enhance it even further. I can increase the potency of the hallucinogens, make each release stretch her senses for hours.” His voice broke, “She’ll feel like she’s floating, lost in him completely…”

I smiled the darkest of smiles as his final shred of resistance gave way. "*Hours*... that’s quite the improvement, Carl," I whispered, taunting him as I dropped my voice to a dangerously low purr. "Imagine it—her body grinding into him, her pussy flooded with this perfected seed, her mind fracturing from the pleasure." I leaned closer, letting my breath brush against his ear once again. “And...as she’s drowning in the euphoria, Carl, completely wrapped in his power, you’ll be nothing. A fading, tasteless memory. She’ll be lost, breathless, his—no need, no space left for you.”

I tightened my grip over him as I pushed my nail deeper against the tip of his limp dick, not allowing him even a drop of relief. "And her pussy, Carl? Tell me," I demanded.

“T-Tight, perfectly shaped... feels like heaven,” he gasped out, his lips trembling. The weakling was stuck between a haze of arousal and humiliation.

I let out a low, cruel chuckle, my lips curling into a wicked grin. “Tell me, Carl...” I purred, voice dripping with malice now. “Do you think it’ll ever feel like heaven to you again... after she’s been used by him?” My words slithered into his ears, deliberate and vicious. “Knowing that his cock has stretched her so wide, so deep, that you’ll never even come close to filling her again? She’ll never even feel you.”

I leaned in, the tip of my nail pressing harder, "*Never*," I repeated, letting the word linger like a cancer. "Her pussy? Utterly ruined, Carl. Wrecked. Fucked into oblivion by a real man—so stretched that when you try to crawl back to her... with that pathetic thing between your legs, she’ll feel nothing."

He was fully ensnared now—wrapped in this nightmarish concoction of arousal and despair.

"And you?" I continued, voice rising in mockery. "You’ll be there, naked and useless, pounding away with your sad, pathetic excuse for a dick. You’ll thrust and thrust, Carl, but she won’t even blink. She’ll lie there dry, wondering why she ever settled for you. She might even giggle. Oh yes, Carl, she’ll laugh at you. Because after she’s had him, after she’s been split open by a man who actually knows how to fuck her… you’re nothing. She won't want you. She won't even feel you."

Carl’s lips quivered. "She'll... she'll nev—" he tried to speak, but his voice cracked, thanks to the manufactured truth I was forcing down his throat. Instead, he nodded weakly, panting heavily, unable to resist—*trapped* in the sheer torment of his humiliation.

“Good,” I hissed, my voice smooth yet cutting, like velvet dragged across jagged glass. My free hand dropped to the knot of my pants, and as I undid it with a deliberate tug, I let them drop to the floor. I glanced down, only to find I had no panties on—*Oh yes,* I’d taken them off right after the procedure; they had been soaking wet, what a rush that was. Too far gone to stay dry for long.

I spread my legs slightly, standing bare before him, giving him a perfect view of the tiny tuft of fiery red hair above my slick, swollen pussy. There I stood, glistening and dripping with need. His eyes couldn’t help but trail down, and I saw the exact moment it registered—the hunger and shame flaring within him. Without hesitating, I slid a finger deep inside myself. Gasping softly with pleasure, savouring the feeling as if it were Kelly’s supple body beneath me. “Mmm… Look, Carl. Look at this,” I purred, curling my finger inside my wet heat and slowly sliding it out as my hips bucked just subtly enough.

But this wasn’t about just my own pleasure—I was giving him a preview of what I knew was burning in his pathetic fantasies: his wife’s underfucked pussy.

“This will be Kelly,” I whispered with twisted satisfaction. “This is what you’ll never have again. That sweet little pussy, so warm, so tight… dripping just like mine is now—so fucking eager for him. Not for you, Carl, never for you.” I let my voice grow colder with every word.
With my finger slick and dripping, I leaned down toward him, holding it inches from his nose. His breath caught in his throat as I dangled it there, tantalisingly close. I was letting him see the glistening evidence of my own arousal that, in his mind, became Kelly’s. He trembled, his entire body rigid under the crushing weight of desire and humiliation.

"Even the smell of her is too good for you," I said softly, dragging my finger just under his nose. His head tilted back, his nostrils flaring involuntarily as he tried to take in the scent, tears of shame brimming in his wide, bloodshot eyes. His body quivered, his lips parting ever so slightly as if to beg for more, but I wasn’t done tormenting him.

He tilted his head, his body responding instinctively to something he could never have again. His breath hitched, and a pathetic whimper escaped him.

But just as fast as I had let him glimpse it, I pulled away, smirking with cold delight as his body sagged in defeat. “Not so fast,” I cooed dripping with malice. “You know, Carl, the only time you’ll ever get to smell her again—Kelly’s pussy—is when it’s soiled with cum. His cum, to be precise.

His eyes filled with more fresh tears, and his body shook with a quiet sob, completely broken and utterly defeated. Kelly’s pussy might as well have been a galaxy away. All he could do was imagine it, wrecked by another man, and the scent that would linger...

I laughed lowly, watching his face twist in agony as the full weight of my words assaulted his fragile psyche. “That’ll be your reward, Carl. To clean her up after her man has left her dripping.”

I moved my hand slightly, allowing the depth of his despair to settle, and added with a devious smirk, “I’ll tell you what, though. Maybe she might feel something… if she lets you lick up the mess he leaves behind. Maybe I’ll let you crawl to her, tongue out, lapping at her ruined pussy like a pathetic, obedient little dog. But your little worm?” I laughed darkly. “It isn’t part of her life anymore. It won’t ever be enough to satisfy her. She’s done with you.”

The panic, the humiliation, the sickening reality of his uselessness hit him all at once. His chest heaved with deep, ragged gasps as his mind shattered into pieces. He was utterly broken and he was completely mine. He would build that perfect cock. A cock that no man could ever dream to match. All mine.

“Drink it in," I taunted between moans, letting my pleasure rise as my fingers plunged deeper inside myself. I spread my legs wider, sliding my fingers faster, feeling the wetness pooling between my thighs as I continued to toy with my swollen clit. "Because this is the closest you'll come to one of these ever again… unless you're on your hands and knees licking it after he’s had his way with her.”

I leaned closer, gasping sharply as my fingers worked themselves deeper into my soaking wet heat, curling just the right way inside. I flicked my thumb over my clit, my breath coming out in short ragged pants as the tension started to build.

“Mmm… and stuffed full of his thick, salty cum, Carl…” I gasped through a moan. “She’ll never—oh god—*want* your pathetic little excuse for a cock again... Ever.”

My words were rasping now, shadowed by the sharp stabs of pleasure as I fucked myself harder, my hips subtly rocking against my hand. I watched his flickering eyes, his crushed expression, savouring it as much as the orgasm building inside me.

“Speak up, Carl,” I commanded, my breath catching as I pumped my fingers faster between my own slick folds. I moaned louder, feeling every stroke of my fingers driving me closer. My voice wavered with the pleasure consuming me. “Tell me how she’ll be stuffed—oh god—with his cum.”

"She... she will..." Carl gasped, his body convulsing, completely at the mercy of my words. "She’ll be stuffed with his cum..." he whimpered, broken.

"Good boy,” I moaned, savouring every tremor of his pathetic servility as I worked myself higher. My fingers slick with my own wetness slid over my clit, pushing me closer to the edge. "She’ll forever choose him over you, won’t she, Carl?" I teased, breath catching. "Once she tastes him... she'll forget you even exist." My voice cracked with pleasure, rising with the heat building between my legs.

Carl's breath came out in desperate, trembling gasps. His flaccid cock twitched pathetically beneath my nail, responding to the degrading litany of words I poured over him. But there would be no release for him—no satisfaction.

"And her waist, Carl...? So ...nnngh...slender..." I choked out between breaths, a hand now cupping my breast, teasing it as the urgent need built lower. "How does she... ohhh... moan when you touch her?"

"She... doesn’t..." he mumbled, voice barely audible, his humiliation palpable. His eyes remained fixed on my heaving chest.

"Good." I gasped, grinding my hips against my palm, feeling the slick tension building. "Now imagine... this man... squeezing that sweet waist... ohhh... filling her up..." A hot shiver ran through me as my body responded to the words I achingly whispered. "Making her moan so loud, Carl... you’ll hear it... but you won't be able to fucking stop it..."

"Will she care about you?" I demanded breathlessly. My fingers moved faster between my legs, my body trembling, about to snap. "Will she care about your... ooohh... pitiful presence?"

"No," Carl croaked, utterly destroyed, his words offering no resistance anymore.

I let out a sharp gasp, the sensation overwhelming. "And that cum... Carl..." I barely whispered, rubbing harder. "How will you make it feel real?! The texture... the thickness... the weight of it as it fills her! Every... mmmmm... every drop!" My breath hitched, neck arching back as I neared my peak. "Will it spill from her—just how it should, Carl? Creamy... ohhh—so thick?"

"S-Synthetic sperm," Carl fumbled, voice trembling. "It’ll feel exactly... like real... everything. The texture, the consistency—exactly like real... You’ll never... know the difference..."

"Wrong," I snapped, a loud moan slipping from my throat as I pushed myself mercilessly towards release. "Not that synthetic shit!" I gasped sharply. "A real man’s... thick... warm... alive..." My fingers worked furiously now, spreading my wetness as I teetered on the edge. "His seed, Carl... not your fucking... fantasy!"

Carl whimpered, breaking further, his tears now fully entwined with my pleasure.

"Yes..." I exhaled heavily, my breath coming in ragged pants. "Every drop, Carl... imagine it... filling her... OH... fuck... stuffing her... full of him... Oooh, Carl... she’s so full of him," I panted, lost in the ecstasy of my own fantasy, driven by the power surging through me.

My body moved in time with each humiliating statement. "Her belly... swelling, Carl! Swelling with his child... stretching... filling... fuck, Carl, she’ll be showing—ohhh... the proof of him inside her!" My fingers now even faster and harder. Yes, I was starting to tremble uncontrollably as I surged closer to my release.

"Tell me how you’ll make the perfect cock, Carl!" I moaned, my legs trembling, pushing myself to the brink. "*The one that’ll stretch her... make her ache... fill her with his child!"

"Yes," Carl wept, hopelessly trapped in my words, his voice raw and utterly broken. "I’ll make it... perfect," he sobbed. "I’ll make it so she never needs me ever again...!"

I was spiralling into my own uncontrolled mess of desire. "*Every FUCKING inch*..." I gasped, thrusting harder into myself, fingers drenched with slickness. "*Think about it, Carl... his babe, growing, and her nipples... ooooh... swelling for him... filling with milk... his baby... and she’ll feed him... feed his fucking child!*" I was panting now, breath ragged, nearing the precipice.

"*And you’ll watch it, Carl!*" I screamed, voice cracking as my fingers worked relentlessly against my clit, hips rocking in time to my corrupted words. "Watch him fuck her... ohhh... FUCK her while her belly swells... And you..." My voice tensed, growling, broken by pleasure. "*Your fucking... worm of a cock, Carl... you’ll be lucky if you ever—oh GOD—get near her filthy cunt again... unless you’re licking it... CLEAN from him!*"

"*Ooohhhh FUCK!*" I moaned loud and high, arching hard as the pleasure tore through me, my orgasm exploding with raw intensity. My whole body trembled violently, fingers buried in my dripping heat. "*YESSS! FUCK!"* I gasped, thighs shaking as the euphoric shockwave of release swept over me, wave after wave of bliss overwhelming every part of me.

Panting and trembling uncontrollably, my body slowly unwound from that divine high, leaving a delicious ache in its wake. I looked down at Carl, trembling and sobbing at my feet—utterly destroyed. My eyes drifted to his thighs, and then I saw it —  disgusting. A pitiful dribble of cum had escaped him. My ecstasy was momentarily tainted.

Oh no!

Realisation struck me. I must have reflexively pulled my nail off his cock during my orgasm, and the weak man had actually come without permission. Without purpose. Like the pathetic waste of a man he was.

My satisfied smirk dissolved into a cruel sneer.

"You dirtied the moment, Carl," I hissed. Even through the haze of my fading climax, my voice cut sharp. "While I was in the middle of something divine, you couldn't even hold back your pitiful filth.” I glared at him in contempt.

Carl's cock twitched pathetically, deflated and limp, but I no longer cared.

I leaned in close, voice venomous, though tinged with a slow satisfaction. "Now," I began, a sadistic grin spreading over my lips, "clean it up. Every drop."

Carl shuddered, a broken sob escaping his lips. But he didn’t hesitate. Trembling, he wiped the pathetic little dribble from his thigh, gathering what little he had to offer. His hand brought it to his mouth as shame overwhelmed him, weak sobs escaping his lips as he licked his fingers clean.

"Good boy," I purred, drawing out every syllable as I revelled in his complete submission, his total ruin. When he finished, tears streamed down his face—completely broken.

I stood tall over him, the intoxicating pulse of power still coursing through me, just as heady as the orgasm I’d just released.
"Pathetic," I whispered, drawing the word out slowly, as though it amused me. My gaze settled on his spent cock—a limp reminder of everything Carl would never reclaim. "Absolutely pathetic."

I inhaled deeply, savouring the complete destruction I’d wrought upon him, still riding high on the wave of power and pleasure. As I exhaled, I murmured softly—but condescendingly— "Thank you, Carl."

He flinched at the unexpected kindness, still too battered and diminished to comprehend it fully.

I stepped back, letting the tingling satisfaction finally fade. "Now," I said, voice settling into a more authoritative tone, "get to work."

Carl wiped his eyes, nodding feebly and completely defeated.

"Of course, Doctor Valentine," he murmured automatically through fresh tears. His broken devotion now bordering on worship.

I watched him for a heartbeat longer, my smile spreading slowly as the reality of the moment sank in. And I knew—that's exactly what I wanted.
Fuck. This... this was real power. Not the coercion of a mere man, not the fleeting adrenaline from a once commonplace male conquest—this was something else entirely. Something deeper, more visceral.

The magic... it truly was incredible.

The satisfaction from what I’d just done to Carl was crackling through me, hot and electric. It was raw, heady power—God, it was intoxicating. The smile tugged at the corners of my lips like it was fixed there, my body still thrumming with that rush of control. I had reduced him to nothing—just a sputtering, broken mess—with only a few words and a teasing hand between his legs. He'd licked his own cum like a good boy, and fuck, watching him crumble under my power had just about made me come all over again.

But even as my body still hummed with the high, something started to turn over in my mind—a seed, cracking open.

*Why did you do that?*

I shook the thought off, turning toward my desk, trying to focus on the next steps. Rick—no, Yvette—was still waiting for me. There were more procedures to map out, more plans to bring her perfectly into line. But as soon as I picked up the pen, more of those quiet doubts crept in. Slippery, dark, and sharp around the edges.

“Fuck, Michelle," I muttered under my breath, the words feeling hollow in my mouth. "Are you... turning into a sadist?”

My hand stilled above the paper.

*You just ruined that man's entire life.*

Carl’s wife. Kelly. Sweet, pretty Kelly. What the fuck was I going to do to her? What did I want from her? The thought of pulling her under, making her mine—or worse, offering her up like some gift for someone else to split and ruin—it hit me harder than I expected.

Somehow, in the middle of ransacking Carl’s mind, I hadn’t stopped to think about Kelly herself. Hadn’t given a single thought as to why I’d even gone there. What would happen to her once this whole thing with Carl spiraled into their bedroom? Once he couldn’t look at her without seeing my twisted fantasies crawl into the sheets beside them?

*Jesus Christ.*

Discomfort flickered through me. It was like I could see the reality of it now, staring back at me like a ghost from the future. Carl wouldn’t be able to touch Kelly without flickering back to my voice, my laughter. And Kelly—well, she’d never know Carl again, not really. And that wasn’t even the worst part.

*She’ll get hooked on my cock.*

I’d see to it, wouldn’t I? Just like I promised Carl. One way or another, I would break Kelly in front of him—and for what? My satisfaction? Revenge on a man whose wife had done nothing to deserve this? The high of manipulating everything to end up exactly how I pleased?

"What the fuck are you doing, Michelle?" I muttered more sharply, the weight starting to bear down hard on my chest again.

I wasn’t this person. Or, I hadn’t been—had I really slipped that far down already? Was this who I was now? The monster?

I raked my hands through my hair, standing up from the desk, pacing the length of the room to try and clear my head. I had to focus. I had to understand.

That document. The resolution.

Fuck, I’d thought we were careful. But ever since that party, those promises made under the heat of New Year’s, something had… shifted. The rules had spun out of my control quicker than I anticipated. I should have known better. I fumbled my way to the drawer, pulling out the printed copy of what Nina had helped me write.

Unfolding the paper, my eyes scanned the words, each line a familiar echo of the power I’d claimed that night.

“I resolve to possess Rick’s cock, harness it to its full potential, and use it to fulfill our desires.”

I felt my stomach tighten. Desires. What had felt so clean, definitive and meant to heal then, now gnawed at me, the ambiguous phrasing revealing its unsettling weight. Our Desires… so open-ended. I hadn't just written these words. Nina had helped draft it. Nina, meticulous and precise—she’d been so careful with the phrasing of each sentence. Clearly the ‘us’ was meant to be an insurance of sorts. But this—this felt… off..the definition of ‘us’ was not clear enough.

I blinked. Fuck me.

Was that why I felt like my thoughts had twisted and turned while the cock was in my presence? Was the cock the other member of the us? What exactly was this leading me? What scope of Magic? What level of Control? I glanced at the page again. Full potential of what, exactly?
The cock wasn’t just powerful because of its size or its allure. It was the purpose behind it, wasn't it? Rick had used it to tear through people—his power wasn't in the organ itself, but in the possibilities it created for him.

His lust, his greed, his arrogance—that cock had magnified every one of his darkest desires and allowed him to leap past decency and restraint. He didn’t just want to fuck; he wanted to devour—and the magic in his cock let him.

And now, I held the reins.

Did the same influence now control me? My decisions? That creeping lust for power?

I forced the thought down, throat tight, and kept reading. The second part, the transformation.

“I resolve to remake Rick in our image: obedient, submissive, and loyal—a maid to serve us."

I blinked twice now.

Who was the other party in us?

I shifted uncomfortably as my eyes moved down the line.

“We will have our maids in devotion and service, bound wholly to our will.”

My stomach sank. maids? Plural?

I re-read the line, my brow furrowing at the wording. A single, unassuming letter—a typo we’d overlooked in our haste—had shifted the meaning entirely. We hadn’t locked the resolution specifically to Rick. That one oversight, that stray 's' Nina and I missed… it was more than just a casual mistake. Instead of binding my power to one evil man, it now left endless possibilities open.

Maids.

We’d missed it. Somehow, we missed the door we’d left open with this damn document. My hurried scratches, the many adjustments as it was clearly a rush order, days before new year, had let this slip past her.

Nina had focused on the legal clarity of each word. But, neither of us assumed one stray plural could unravel everything.

I had inadvertently gifted myself..fuck… *ourselves*, the damned cock and I were a fucking team now. We held power over others. Rick was irrelevant now. I could create more. How many? As many as I willed, as long as I saw fit.

The pen in my hand hung limply, no ink spilled on the page.

The possibilities churned in my mind. Absolute control—Nina probably thought she’d safeguarded every corner of this magic for me, but this oversight? It had handed me more than I planned for. More than I could have imagined.

A laugh, dry, almost hollow, escaped my lips.

And the worst part? I could feel the thrill of it running up my spine again, the temptation whispering at the base of my skull. The cock had pulsed in my grip when I’d claimed it like it was alive, and *now* I understood. I stood at the edge of open potential—with no real fucking limit to what I could do. Kelly, Nina, the next person unlucky enough to catch my eye—I could take anyone and twist them into my own little plaything if I wanted to.

So, why did my hand begin to tremble slightly, gripping the edges of the paper tighter?

But still, the more I ran my mind over the words and considered the weight of this newfound understanding, the more the air around me felt… heavier. Thicker.

"This is too much. This could spiral.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but the thought hit the centre of me like ice.

“Absolute power,” I whispered, slowly easing the paper onto the desk, the edge of a realisation tugging at my thoughts. “That’s dangerous… isn’t it?”

---TO BE CONTINUED---

**Trigger Warning: Explicit Content**

Dear reader, if you've followed us through the journey of this series, please be aware that just like its previous parts, this vignette unfolds with vivid and explicit storytelling. Your boundaries are valued and respected. Therefore I warmly encourage you to listen to your feelings and prioritize your well-being when choosing to engage with this content.

For those who find solace and excitement within my work, you are all invited to this casting call.

Chapter 1 can be found here: Binding Resolutions Chapter 1: A Promise Kept
Chapter 2 can be found here: Binding Resolutions Chapter 2: Lost in Submission
Chapter 3 can be found here: Binding Resolutions Chapter 3: The Stroke of Midnight
Chapter 4 can be found here: Binding Resolutions Chapter 4: New Beginnings

Interlude: Casting Call

Ahhh... Masters, Mistresses... Mmmm, do you like this? how I'm down for you on all...*oh fuck yes*...fours? The show’s been...*ah*...quite something, I...*mmm*...bet. Have you been indulging in the delectable ride of my story? Is it my breasts you're eyeing? How they dangle, full and heavy, swaying with each 'hard' thrust I take from behind... *Oh god, yes*... echoing each savage ramming?*ahh* And these nipples... *shit*...they could cut through glass, so hard, so painfully desperate for... *yes*...agonizing strokes or a pair of hot, greedy lips...

His hands are so...*unf*...strong and decisive. Ugh... can you hear my ass...*oooh fuck*...can you witness every...*ahh*...agonizingly delicious inch of him ploughing into me? Squeezing my hips like they're dough, shaping and... *unnnhh*...moulding me onto his shaft. You've got the front-row seat to this spectacle, and Mistress, sweet Mistress, so deliciously splayed out below...an offering—a divine spread just for... *ooh*...my tongue and your blissful perversion *...ahhh...fuck...yes*

No lies, there's nothing more 'sinfully' arousing than knowing his pent-up load is going to explode... *mmm*...all over, just gush into me until we overflow, and cascade all over... *yes*...all over her quivering, moaning lips below... it’s lewd, shameful, and damn if I don’t revel in it.

There’s a craftsmanship to being fucked and feasting on pussy at the same... *ugh*...time. A slut so... *ahh*...desired. Sorry if I...*god*...stumble over my words. Who wouldn't when sodden with such...'deep'...unbridled ecstasy?

Oh... god yes, my beloved readers, if you've tasted the... *ungh*... sin on your screens, get down to the dirty work. Tap, no—POUND that Thumbs Up!, located down under—like where he's got me, where I’m spread wide, THERE!—now slide your eyes to the left, be generous and lavish the author...*ah*... with your filthiest... *mmm*... applaud. They've written my every moan for your wicked glee. I've sworn—*yessss*, just there—to quench their deep, dark...*fuck*... hungers if they hit the climax of likes and... *ah*... comments.

And fuck—goddamn sinners, I’m unfurling your red carpet to filth...*ngh*... in the best, dirtiest way. Slather your... *mmm*... debauchery below, let it tricklefrom your minds to the comments ...*aaaaah, yes!*... your fantasies trickling with every word. Look back, relive our past fucking rendezvous and in a soaking, hot paragraph ...*ahh*... confess how you'd join our obscene encore in the Vignettes. Be the god of your own sinful domain. The most decadent of you? You get to play an honoured role in our Endgame, with three other deviant spirits participating in the Vignettes..

*oh fuck...YES*. Here it comes, *nghhhhh... yesss* ... I'm breaking, shattering — gonna splatter. So... *mmmmm... ahhhhh* YES—Maîtresse! *fuuuuck*... YES!

---

How I found the confidence to write:
Read here on my blog

**Synopsis**
As our story nears its climax, Yvonne's tale starts to iron itself out, exposing the concealed truths below. How far do the depths of desire and devotion go? Can frank confessions and a readiness to sacrifice all for love redefine the rhythm of the narrative? Awaiting Yvonne is a destiny that is still to be fully realised, yet startling disclosures test the bedrock of her being; how will she and her dear mistress navigate the ensuing upheaval?

**Trigger Warning**

Please be aware that this chapter contains explicit sexual content and explores themes of power dynamics and identity transformation. It may be distressing for some readers. If such material is not to your taste or comfort, I encourage you to exercise discretion and prioritize your well-being.

---

Prior Chapters of Binding Resolutions can be found here: Binding Resolutions Book

Binding Resolutions Chapter 5: The Resolution that Changed Everything

Mistress' fingers, barely there against the tender skin of my obedient cockette, were not ‘little Yvonne’, not at this moment, as she traced idle patterns, eliciting involuntary twitches with every light caress.

“The tattoo seems to have worked as intended. There is a good reason I had it inked on you: to be a constant reminder of who or what you are becoming, meant to change with you during this journey. To jolt you back to reality if you ever got lost.” Her feather touch was a soft curse, teasing life into the quivering nub. The gentle prodding coaxed forth quivers of pleasure from where I had only recently believed that only shame could reside.

“The resolution box,” her breath danced on my skin, “was more than just a pretty piece to hold paper dreams. It had power – the kind that weaves written wishes into the fabric of fate.” Mistress punctuated her words with a quick tug on my sensitive little bud, coaxing a stifled moan from my quivering lips. “People dropped their desires into this box on slips of paper; the bits of paper would disappear, but throughout the year, their wishes would manifest.”

She didn’t skip a beat as I squirmed under her words. “Jacob, that motherfucker – he recognised the box’s true nature. He must have pieced it together at the pool party we hosted last summer.”

"Quoi... de la magie?" I started, only for Mistress’ stern "Shush, just listen and trust in what I say," as she tugged at my swollen ‘clit’ again, just a wee bit painfully this time."The words are mine now, my voice; you’re the echo. ‘This… Is my desire, my order." The turmoil within her baby blues, deep pools reflecting pain and longing, tethered my soul to hers.

I had the damn right to refuse, yet love prevailed — I chose to immerse myself in her desires and her sorrow. With a raspy, heartfelt "Oui, comme vous commandez, ma maîtresse." I sealed my loyalty, and I passionately suckled at her, baring my soul to her guidance.

"He must have been privy to its power. His family might even have owned one of their own, some of the only surviving artefacts of the damnable witch trials," she continued, tracing the shell of my ear with her tongue, then pausing to moisten her fingertip with my lips.

"He knew how they worked; they couldn’t just be stolen. Those boxes passed from hand to hand only by consent, willingly. Their power is immense, meant for good, but his plan sought to twist their gifts, and by extension, our very fates, to his will."

"Mais pourquoi?" slipped from my tongue, my voice barely audible, but her swift rebuke, "Silence, my eager little kitten," left me reeling from the next little pull at my 'clitty'.

"The jealousy was fucking killing him – that *Adam* – you," she clarified, tilting my head up again to lock eyes, commanding me not to speak. She smirked at me with pointed clarity. "Yes, I said, Adam. Now just return to sucking," she instructed as she pushed my lips back to her inviting nipple. "You were the antithesis of his mediocrity."

"Adam was everything the scumbag wasn't – fucking tall, dark, overflowing with that fiery charm, warm, approachable, and just so goddamn irresistible... the primal alpha. Your very existence was a reminder of his wholly average existence, and in the office, Adam was on the cusp of overshadowing him completely."

She revealed her growing appetite in a husky whisper as she engaged my rosebud, her finger parting me tenderly. "Adam had it all: the room's gaze, a captivating strength from within and without, respect for me as his equal, and between the sheets, a relentless, untamed predator.”

She groaned with passion as she continued with our tale, her fingers slowly easing into my welcoming love knot, "his lust for, and obsession with, me. Knowing that I was utterly and completely in love with, owned by, and truly dicked down by Adam drove him mad."

Then she plunged into me with purpose, igniting a flare of raw yearning. I cried out, breathless, "No longer Adam, correct?... Confess, do you miss him?"

The very thought of *Adam* sent a pulse of warmth flickering through me, making my ‘clitty’ quiver with recognition. Swarming thoughts of Adam, with his broad chest and chiselled abs honed by relentless discipline, swept over me. That confident grin etched across a face of stark, masculine beauty.

Each memory of that body, of Adam, was like salivating over a face I knew but couldn't touch—an ache for a brute strength I didn't just surrender to but was stripped away from me. Now, all I could do was drool and ache for that power, to be pinned and taken by it, to be split open and to be utterly, deliciously ravaged.

The vision flashed hotter, filthier—I was straddling him, skewered on that magnificent cock, bouncing with a slut's greed. And there she was, my Mistress, eyes blazing with twisted pleasure at the sight of her man, her Adam, owning me.

A raw, guttural moan clawed its way out of me before I could leash it, a sound drenched in desire for a past that twisted my insides with yearning and a perverse kind of thrill.

"Mmmmm... cette bite," the words purred out, unbidden, tinged with carnal nostalgia, "maître," (*"Mmmmm... that cock... master’s...,"*) the term falling from my lips like a token of another life. I raced to correct myself through a haze of lust, "J'aimerais encore l'avoir..." (*"I wish I still had it..."*)

Mistress' laugh was a melody spiked with longing, a tender probe into our open wounds of longing. "You and me both, babe," she crooned, a predatory purr to her teasing. "And based on that little slip, ideally inside us, right? Wouldn't that be delicious?"

As she continued, my lips were clamped tight around her, sucking as if my life depended on it. Her fingers diligently worked my little bud, now throbbing desperately for release. "Keep that pretty mouth working, but I'll let you squeak out little words. I liked your little slip-up. No idea what ideas they might give me," she purred as her nail grazed my tip, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through me.

As my hands, wanton with craving, crept towards the warmth between Mistress' thighs, she swiftly captured them. "Not yet, my little slut," pausing her circling fingers on my aching nub, "There's time for that later—listen now."

"The shiftless cur. Not a thought for bettering himself; all he craved was to peel you away, layer by layer until nothing was left, not even me." Mistress spat out the words, her thrusts burying deeper with each assertion as I attempted to focus on the task at hand. My sucking grew frantic against her nipple, yet my body betrayed me with quivering fits of weakness.

Her touch was torturous, pinching and rolling my ‘clitty’ between her fingers, all while she began to finger me relentlessly from behind. "...pour me briser," (*"...to break me,"*) I choked out, salty droplets mingling with the heat of my breath.

"He saw you shattered to pieces, with himself as the twisted orchestrator. Any desire, any ambition could have been his; had he but devoted himself to it, the wheel of fortune would've spun in his favour. Instead, he chose to ensnare us; you and me compelled to surrender to his perverse vision," her hands found a wicked pace, pushing deep and pulling in rhythm. "Hélas," I whimpered, tears streaking my cheek. "Toi et moi."

"That, my precious toy, is the true might of the resolution box. No grand sorcery; rather, it's the subtle yet incredibly powerful whisper of fate that helps turn your deepest wishes into reality. Just remember, though, to make a wish again, the prior year's commitment must be honoured. The box sides with only the truly committed."

As her fingers worked their magic, "Promesses," my murmur hung in the air, heavy with lost dreams and the path ahead. "Promesses sacrées..." (*"Sacred promises."*)

"He spelt out his sick yearnings," her voice was silk over steel as she spoke my former name again, each utterance of 'Adam' paired with a deeper thrust and a sharp pull at my aching ‘clitty’, binding me tighter in the web of my own reckless surrender.

"You offered yourself so blindly, Adam. You swore to be anything I wanted, gifting your complete submission to me and opening yourself up to his perverse wishes — for him, yes, but also against yourself, Adam, and inevitably, against me."

"Arrêtez, Maîtresse, s'il vous plaît..." (*"Stop, Mistress, please..."*) I gasped out, my voice hitching as she continued to pluck at my little cocklette, but she only chuckled darkly.

"Stupid girl," she said with a loving bite. "Your promise left you bare, gave you away — made you the unwitting star." Her finger twisted within me, her other hand delivering sharp pleasure to my throbbing bud, the precarious balance of pleasure and pain driving me mad.

Mistress' voice softened, a shadow of remorse threading through as she recounted the twist in our tale. "The most fucked-up part was how he got me involved. It was sinister, really," her finger paused inside me as if to mark her words.

"Do you remember me going to Lynne for hypnotherapy to help quit smoking and to become more confident? It was your recommendation."

"Oui… putain… sur la recommandation de Jacob," (*"Yes... fuck... on Jacob's recommendation,"*) I blurted out, alarm flaring within me. "Yes, Yvonne, he did... and that's how his vile claws snagged me right along with you."

Mistress moved on top of me, and reclined against my thighs. Her breast momentarily forgotten as her thoughts cast backward. "Let's retrace our journey, love, to a time not long after the party at the pool," she said, wistfully staring into my eyes.

“You came to me, off the back of Jacob's recommendation, for Lynn's hypnosis for my smoking." Her hand slid from my throbbing cockette, commanding bluntly, "Slide open, darling, let me see the goods," and I obliged, my thighs shamelessly unveiling my naked need.

Hmm. Where was I? Yes, her hypnosis snared the cigarettes. Had I been aware back then, I would have understood that a mind attuned to the desired end can be reshaped with only will. Hypnosis is a great excuse to exercise said will; otherwise, it's a fruitless endeavour. Clearly, her hypnosis was no great shakes, but she had earned my trust.

"You, too, had seen the merit in her sessions and were supportive of my desire for further self-improvement on the professional front. To embrace being more forceful, more assertive, more commanding," she reminisced, her eyes tracing the curves she now laid claim to.

Her fingers continued their torturous playing with my 'clitty', the torment keeping my breath well away from the rest of me, "mmm... plus imposant" (*"mmm...more commanding."*) I was caught in a whirlwind of discomfort from her words and ecstasy from her touch.

The bitch took it all in—she listened, and like a viper with honeyed words, she whispered suggestions. She toyed with the idea of dominance—over my professional sphere, yes, but also within our intimate walls," she mused, “suggesting I dip not just a toe but my very soul into dominance, to wield it both in the boardroom and in the bedroom."

Mistress reflected, her coy smile reassuring me even as it manipulated my tender flesh. "Planting seeds in my head, having you lay it bare, giving it up to me, to have every inch of you, inside and out." She drove her finger with a savagery that wracked my frame, "mon Dieu... oui... maîtresse," (*"my God... yes... Mistress."*) My body ached for more of her cruel mercy.

“Remember that session when you wore the maid's outfit, serving me, yielding to my every urge?" Her eyes sparkled with the memory as she recounted, “That was when you first opened up to me completely."

Surrendering to my vulnerable position, drawn to her breasts, arching my back into her, returning to her teats, folding myself into a tiny little ball, and hungrily nursing as she drew me back into the heat of our memories, "Je m'en souviens..." I murmured against her skin.

“I remember your submission, how nervous but willing you were. That was when I discovered the joys of your backdoor. You, on your knees, my fingers and tongue exploring, the first time I delved into your sweet, puckered hole. My beautiful bull, letting me tug the reins," her body quivered with the thrill. “You, squirming, relenting, letting me have my way with you, was fucking intoxicating."

Her rhythm intensified as she tortured my 'clitty’. "J'ai vraiment aimé..." (*"I really enjoyed it..."*) I groaned, lost in the shockwaves her touches sent crashing through me.

Mistress' finger moved with a rougher cadence now, igniting a blend of pain and pleasure that left me squirming, a puppet strung on the aching throb within me.

And then, her manipulation became almost feral, her motions eliciting deep, animalistic urges. "Incroyable..." (*"Incredible..."*) my fragmented voice sighed in rapture as my lips desperately sought to feed on her ripe bosom.

Then her tone dropped, icy like the truth she recalled, "It was then, atop that exhilarating peak, she tested me with stories of forced submission, husbands brought low entirely." Mistress spat, a loathing for the poison she nearly drank. "But it didn't stick, I loved you—Adam."

The name was a jab, deeper this time, "Your touch, how you cherished me, and God, that beautiful cock of yours." That day, I stopped visiting her, she said as she continued her ministrations. Each pulsing push spoke of yearning for a life and love teetering on the cusp of being lost.

Her insistent touch paused only briefly as she unravelled the truth – clarity breaking through. "I did piece it together later, but it was too late by then. Our journey had already begun." Her motion resumed, each thrust layered with new understanding. I nearly shouted, "Ils étaient dans le même bateau." (*“They were in the same boat.”*)

She leaned into me. "Yes, babe. They both shared this sin. He was an investor in her business and between her legs. The plan was to poison my thoughts. Now suck harder. Deep reflections don't need to stop other important... activities as well." She said, and I crouched into her even more, sucking harder.

“Still, she left behind seeds that played on my curiosity despite it all, whispers that wormed their way into my thoughts. I even took up reading kink on websites,” she said, her voice drifting away for just a moment.

“The temptation gnawed at me, wondering what it would be like to truly command, not just playfully but totally," she whispered, her fingers continuing their maddening rhythm that now twisted in my flesh. "La tentation, c'est le piège ultime..." (*“Temptation is the ultimate trap…”*)

"Curiosity can be a hell of a drug. Mixed with intrigue and touched by the allure of something more... something darker. It led me…us down a path I never foresaw," Mistress confessed, her voice heavy with unfolding dread.

She looked down at me, helplessly offered up for her pleasure. "Is my precious girl drinking in every syllable?" she asked seriously. Amidst the overwhelming sensations, my compliance spilt forth with a breathy moan, "Yes, Mistress... dominion over... Adam."

Her fingers dove deeper within me, her touch echoing the twisted narrative she spun—a tale of corrupted lust. "Give me your moans," she ordered, and my response came hot and needy, "Maîtresse... vos désirs... manipulés." (*"Mistress... your desires... manipulated."*)

"What we thought was a mere flirtation with control—it was explicit in its intent to reshape us and you—Adam." Each mention of that name was delivered with a deeper plunge, extracting broken breaths that spilt out of me.

“We left enough loopholes for him to get exactly what he wanted. Two vague, vulnerable and open-ended resolutions that he could spin to serve his own desires. All he needed was a resolution of his own to ruin ours.”

"My desire and your blind promise, Adam," she said, now relentlessly plundering into me, unearthing cries of agonised ecstasy, "morphed you into my private whore, and us into playthings in his grotesque little theatre."

"Je suis foutrement à vous, Maîtresse... utilisée par ce connard ou non," (*"I'm fucking yours, Mistress... used by that arsehole or not,"*) I bellowed, laid out naked, body and soul laid bare before her. Her fingers thrusting, even during this confession, drove me higher.

"Oh mon amour," her voice was laced with hurt, her hands drawing me in closer, flesh mashed against flesh, as she divulged, "He mapped out our demise, every wicked detail crafted with someone else's pen. Even paid some smut peddler to draft a five-thousand-word blueprint. A fucking saga disguised as a resolution that painted the walls with his shit-stains of decadence."

"Arrêtez... non, continuez, Maîtresse!" (*Stop... no, continue, Mistress!*) The contradiction of my pleas matched the push-pull of her punishing touch, the perfect blend of agony and ecstasy.

“We were the stars, but he spread his poison far and wide, corrupting almost everyone from last year's gathering, from Mike to my sister—all unwitting pawns on his dirty chessboard."

The scream of "Oh my God!" ripped through me, my voice splitting between the horror of Jacob's vile deeds and the rampant waves of ecstasy that Mistress was pounding into my body. Each thrust against my cocklet sent spasms of delight that clashed with the icy realisation shadowing each reveller's devolution from decency to debauchery.

"That sneaky bastard had it all tied up – a dirty magic trick with no loose ends. No one suspects sorcery when their minds and faces are buried between each other's thighs. Chasing shameless revelry over regular lives. Their transformations into sexual demons made everyone a suspect and everyone a victim.”

Beneath her skilled hand, a hot, conflicted "No!" bubbled up from my throat. Her fingers still persistent, and her words spelt out the hideous game that twisted a year's worth of guests from pristine to stone-cold sex freaks.

"Hold on a moment, my sweet," Mistress' voice was soft as she withdrew her wet finger, leaving me empty. I was glued to her breast like a babe, curled in and suckling with fervent need, missing her presence inside me.

A shift in her movement, and then—it came, a chill of anticipation on my skin before the mammoth invader breached me, a beast larger than any I'd had the pleasure of feeling inside me. She drove it home with deliberate force, and I was exploding with stars, my surrender absolute.

"Do you revel in the memory of my Adam's monster meat, my depraved little harlot?" Mistress' voice was thick with triumph as the phallus buried itself in me, feeding my bottomless craving. "That life cast I had taken ages ago?”

Her voice had a delighted edge to her words, "Today's secret from the mall? I took my incredible fucker’s mould and had it turned into this strapping delight just now. And I spared no expense to have this surprise crafted on such short notice."

“Tell me, my slut, how it feels to be speared by the cock of MY Adam? Can you feel his big virile balls slap against you, being split open by the only shaft that sated me?" she roared, the lioness in her emerging as the voice reverberating through me.

I was lost, dizzy with desire. "Mmm… la bite du maître… elle est plus grande que toutes celles des autres hommes… comme je le voudrais ici…" (*"Mmm… the master’s cock… it’s bigger than all others… how I wish he were here…"*)

“Listen to my voice," Mistress' tone brooked no dissent as she ruthlessly pounded each inch into me. Clarity washed over her, even in the throes of our shared depravity. "I was fucking oblivious to the spell’s insidious creep, but halfway through our journey, it hit me like a slap on the face.”

Some gutter site had a story that accurately reflected our sordid ordeal, every little detail. At first, it turned me on, but then repulsion struck hard. It was like peering into the abyss. The same dirty fable unravelled right before my eyes," she plunged deeper, coaxing a guttural scream of pure, filthy pleasure.

Each slap of her cock on my tender flesh made me want her more; each strike demanded my silent agreement. “Say it,” she demanded. “Admit to your Mistress that you're nothing but a toy sculpted by envy and lust."

I uttered precisely what she asked of me, "un jouet, oui…" (*"A toy, yes…"*) I spoke, my words, a reflection of my helpless acceptance and the hunger that knotted my insides.

“It was that cursed author, commissioned by Jacob, who had published it as a filthy tale, now public, a blueprint of our demise crafted into erotica and splashed across those dark corners of the web that I had taken to visiting by then.”

“Our descent was not ours alone to bear – horrors that I shamefully found myself poring over, consumed by the explicit perversions that someone dared to call our life.”

Enraged by the thought, she was now punishing me with relentless fervour. Her… Adam’s cock slamming home… over and over. Her hand ensnared the back of my neck as she dragged my diminutive, suckling form even closer to hers.

The other twisted my nub—a torturous pleasure so sharp I could barely breathe. "Je suis à bout, je ne peux plus penser…" (*I'm at my limit, I can no longer think…*) I choked out, my mind a whirlpool of lust.

She continued, "Remember how quickly those hormones ravaged your robust form, Yvonne," she growled, "how those meds should have taken years to sculpt these—" Her hand cupped the heft of my breast, "—ripe, suckable tits."

"Oui, ma poitrine est si douce... si parfaite pour lécher…" (*Yes, my chest is so soft... so perfect for sucking…*) I panted, feeling the weight of my new flesh, the pink nipples hardening under her touch.

"Your stature, once towering, now diminished, ripe, and tender beneath me," she said with a cruel affection as she pushed deeper, each inch she claimed inside echoing the inches I'd lost outside. "Mon Dieu, je suis si petite, si vulnérable sous vous…" (*My God, I am so small, so vulnerable beneath you…*) I exhaled sharply, each thrust of the penetrating shaft as impactful as the dawning reality of my transformation.

Her palm traced my jawline, now purposed for her possessive grip. "The firm set of your jaw, now a graceful arc for kisses," her hand ascended my face, grasping my spun gold tresses, "and see how your once dark mane now spills in honeyed curls," she said. "Maîtresse, je ne me reconnais plus…" (*"Mistress, I no longer recognise myself…"*) I uttered, a whimper softer than the curls that now framed my face.

Still holding me by my hair with one hand, a finger from her other hand traced the void where my balls once resided, her touch sympathetic and her voice cracking. "You bounced back from the snip as if it were nothing more than a haircut, my pretty little thing." She chuckled, but I could hear her sense of loss, knowing full well the gravity of what had been stolen from me.

"Tout guéri si vite, comme si rien d'important n'avait disparu," (*"All healed so quickly, as if nothing important had ever been there,"*) I mumbled, my voice laced with the loss of my former masculinity.

Then her eyes wandered to my present shame. "And this, mon petit clito," she crooned, wicked affection in her words as she flicked the sensitive nub. "An eight-inch monument of virility, now a delicate speck." Her fingers toyed with it, a reminder of the transformation from something grand to something...else.

I couldn't contain the heat flushing my cheeks or the bite of desire her words conjured. "... ma bite, j'ai perdu ma fière bite..." (*"... my cock, I've lost my proud cock..."*) I ached out loud, a tortured admission of what I mourned the most.

Her pace quickened, the cock plunging in and out of me with a roughness that blurred the lines between pain and pleasure. She cooed about the transformation of my posterior. "Your cute little peach, once firm and unyielding, is now just a soft, jiggly pillow, always hungry for attention, to be touched, to be taken, to be of service."

There was a kindness in her tone, a loving approval of what I'd become. Her free hand smacked the soft flesh; the sound was obscene in its sharpness, and the sensation rippled into my core. "Mon cul est tellement accueillant pour tous maintenant, Maîtresse..." (*"My arse is so welcoming to all now, Mistress...,"*) I confessed breathlessly, pressing back against her, craving more of her delicious invasion.

As she drove her fingers within me with resolve, I could barely comprehend the fullness of her words. "Can you believe it, pet? Our little world turned on its axis, and nobody – not our parents, friends, or even the watchful Dr Michelle – none were any the wiser. They simply accepted it and even gleefully participated," she mused aloud. Each word was synchronised with a calculated thrust, emphasising the stark reality of our transformation.

My response came as a fragmented whisper, carried in the wake of strokes that left me trembling, "Everyone is so enthusiastic, as if everything is normal..." I panted, my voice a blend of arousal and astonishment.

Reality felt skewed, inexplicably altered so my drastic change seemed to fit perfectly within everyone's expectations. "Ils me matent, putain, ils voient ce vestige d'Adam et bandent pour défoncer Yvonne, leur nouveau jouet à baiser." (*They fucking ogle me, seeing the remnants of Adam and get hard for pounding Yvonne, their new fuck toy.*) The truth lay thick between us: that wish hadn't just remade me; it had ensnared the perceptions of all who knew me.

Mistress' relentless exploration of my depths didn't let up; the tempo matched only by the throbbing pulse of my dicklette under her rough ministration. "I found out it was all Jacob’s doing when I hunted down the author responsible for crafting this reality," she cursed through gritted teeth, punctuating her words with a sharp thrust that made me cry out.

"Merde, il ne nous possédera pas encore..." (*"Shit, he won't own us yet again..."*) I uttered with a ragged breath, the mixture of dread and thrill in my voice making it quiver. The reality of our situation was as penetrating as Adam’s magnificent tool. It was a game of chess that he played with our bodies and wills at stake.

Mistress prodded deep inside, her touch methodical and deliberate. "Pored over every word, every perverse stipulation, and meticulously made notes. I analysed every condition that needed to be fulfilled. I had to take control of the narrative to protect you, to shield us from being completely unravelled by that motherfucker’s fantasies," she announced. Each thrust was a declaration, sending spasms of delirious pleasure through my exposed form.

"Préservée par votre ingéniosité, Maîtresse..." (*"Preserved by your ingenuity, Mistress...,"*) I exhaled, my every nerve ignited by her penetrating motion.

"The party was the stage—the final act where everything would come to a head. Just moments of complete exposure to his depraved desires and our cue to wrest back control of our fate," Mistress' movements became more aggressive, sending me spiralling.

"Une scène pour notre délivrance, Maîtresse..." (*"A stage for our deliverance, Mistress...,"*) My cry was both pleasure and plea, the foreign syllables spilling from my lips laced with need.

Mistress didn’t stop her tactile onslaught, as if her determination alone would stave off the darkness Jacob had woven into our destiny. "The clock’s hand was going to be our ally—your plunge into being Jacob's bitch would last just a goddamn flash."

"Par votre volonté, je plonge et ressurgis, Maîtresse..." (*By your will, I plunge and reemerge, Mistress...*) I whispered, spinning in the whirlpool of her creating, ever her compliant, needy subject.

Mistress' unyielding fingers carved new pathways of sensation within me as she confessed, "Had last night's excesses 'manifested' too early, you’d have been gone—your head, your personality, and memories scrambled, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to allow that.”

Her rigorous pace brought me to the edge, my fragmented mind clinging to every word she uttered. "Oui, Maîtresse, vous me sauvez..." (*Yes, Mistress, you save me...,*) I cried out, lost in the relentless tide of her pleasure.

I heard her voice swell with emotion as she spoke. "I pleaded with the heavens that you might still enjoy the delights of orgasms after our new vows, and what an unbelievable relief I felt when you came in my eager mouth."

When it first happened, I could not believe it: the jerking spasms, the little erection, the sweet, sweet dribbles of your release. It happened last night, it happened during all our little sexcapades today, and even now, it defies belief – my lurid little delight is still alive," she revealed, basking in the splendour of my bliss with incredulity.

Suspended by Mistress' will alone, I could do nothing but moan in eager, delirious French, each plea a testament to my submission. "Je t'en supplie, Maîtresse, ne t'arrête pas..." (*Please, Mistress, don't stop...*)

She intensified her assault, pumping savagely within me, one hand now pulling my head tighter to breastfeed in her nipple, while her other hand, rough and possessive, returned to tormenting my ‘clitty’. "But understand this, with or without magic, this is what we are. I love watching you quake, and you adore being my plaything. Look at us, insatiable," she growled, her voice twisted with incredible affection.

"Recognise our mutual debasement and swear to me your endless love, just as I swear to you my everlasting devotion," she pronounced with such ferocity that it thrust me into a state of pure sensation; I was nothing but raw, exposed nerve endings, every fibre of my being screaming for release.

With that demand, she lifted my body to align with hers, consummating the union of desire and dominion. "Maître de mon plaisir, enfoncez-vous en moi jusqu'à ce que l'éternité s'épuise; je jure de vous aimer à jamais..." (*"Master of my pleasure, plunge into me until eternity runs dry; I swear to love you forever..."*) I implored, on the brink of an infinite collapse, my release tethered to her entirely.

Each unyielding stroke edged me closer to the abyss, her vice-like fingers wrapped around my throbbing ‘clitty’. Her unyielding grasp on my head forced me to suckle helplessly. "Now, melt—let everything go, my sweet aching flower," she commanded, her words detonating within me like a charge keyed to my soul.

"JE VIENS... AH... DIEU, MAÎTRESSE, JE ME RENDS... TU ES... AH... MON AMOUR," (*"I’M COMING... AH... GOD, Mistress, I SURRENDER... YOU ARE... AH... MY LOVE."*) I cried out, the words tearing into breathy cries, as waves of ecstasy surged through me, hurling me into a storm that fragmented me.

Then, as though struck by lightning, her control vanished with a surrendering scream. "AHHH!!... Chérie... OUI!!!... FUCK!... OUI!!!! ... MON DIEU, OUI!!!" her unrestrained, primal howl shattered the silence, picking up the fragments of my disassembled self to rend me anew as we crumbled together, utterly exhausted, joined in blissful collapse.

As my consciousness wavered on the edge of darkness, I heard Mistress' words through the fog. "Don't fret over that piece of shit, Jacob; his plans went south when you sucked his brains out, and I nailed him to the floor – out cold and clueless. Swapped his paper for mine and had you drop it in. Serves him right to choke on the poison he brewed for us."

In my delirious state, my voice weak but insistent, I whispered, "Et nous, Maîtresse?"

Her assurance was the last thing I heard before darkness enveloped me. "Don't trouble your pretty little head about us, my dear. All will be known in due time," she soothed, and I surrendered, succumbing to the embrace of oblivion and the sweet promise of her protective presence.

Synopsis
In the conclusion of our story, Yvonne's bonds of love and trust face the ultimate test. A day of revelations brings our little heroine full circle, challenging the depths of her transformation. Our lovely couple confronts the prospect of a future once unimaginable as secrets unfurl and a significant vow binds them. Will this final chapter carve a path toward healing and happiness, or will the remnants of a year's turmoil demand one last sacrifice?

Author's Note

I have embraced more straightforward and personal language in this concluding chapter in response to very valuable reader feedback. I needed to finish Yvonne's story with words that resonate from the heart. I aimed to keep the narrative authentic and genuine, allowing for an emotional connection as we reach the end of our journey with Yvonne. I really hope to stick the landing.

Binding Resolutions Chapter 6: Valentine Be Mine

Oh, how things had changed in over a month. The pieces of myself didn't quite fit the same way they used to. The character I had been forced into had now evolved. Eve was the name that rolled off my tongue these days. The only exception being those intimate moments when my adored Mistress would summon Yvonne from the shadows.

Eve was her own damn person – resolute, burgeoning with confidence. Not yet the pillar of strength, but she was getting there. Amidst it all, she held a tender, moist spot in her heart and other places only for Nina. The depth of love she harboured for her only grew stronger with each passing moment. Heck, I'd even started clocking back into work last week.

With Jacob being fired unceremoniously for fraud, thanks to ‘his’ unfortunate new resolution, his spot at the office had landed in my lap. The phenomenon was bizarre, unfathomable even. But it was clearly true that the world bent and twisted, playing to the tunes of our still-secret-to-me resolutions. Slowly, it gave us back what we'd lost or maybe never even had.

The contents of those resolutions were still a damn mystery to me, though. Nina kept them under wraps like they were timed to explode with the right kind of magic moment or some celestial alignment.

And as for little Yvonne? Well, she was all woman now, thanks to a surgery everyone else thought was cut and dry. No pun intended, but Dr. Michelle and her folks had magicked up a fully working vagina where none ought to be.

They were oblivious to the fact that, despite the absence of sufficient tissue, they had forged fully functional lady bits. Miraculously, it healed overnight and settled into natural normalcy within days.

A week past that, nobody batted an eyelid. Even Michelle's recollection of my 'trans' history had seemingly evaporated. When she started chatting me up about my upcoming monthly blood moons, it felt like she thought this was an entirely normal part of my journey.

Eyes set forward, I was anticipating my inaugural skirmish with that 'delightful' monthly visitor to waltz in right in time with Nina’s.

In essence, I was replete; I was now whole, and all it took was the creation of a new vessel to fill in missing portions of the picture. Ahh, another accidental pun. But back on topic, today bore special significance. It's our first Valentine's Day with this newly awakened Eve.

Nina had that look in her eyes - the one that told me she was up to something just for us. "Rentre tôt, ma chérie," she had whispered, her voice betraying the surprise she held close to her heart. I couldn't help but feel the flush of anticipation for the surprise that awaited me at home.

To seize the day, I had left work early. I went to the gym and then swung by the mall. Heads turned as I strolled in to pick up some fresh tailor-made trousers. 'Bout damn time I strutted something other than my gams – nice as they were, a return to pants, even if only on occasion, would be sure to feel pretty damn good.'

Returning to matters of my evolution, I had rekindled my relationship with the gym, immersing myself in strength training. The gains had been nothing short of miraculous. I, who hovered around a featherweight 120 pounds, found myself hoisting nearly double that in deadlifts while working out in apparel that'd make a nun blush. But hey, I was all about commitment, resolutions and magic be damned. It was just good old-fashioned sweat, steel, and the view my booty shorts provided as my fellow gym goers gawked.

The changes in my body were clearly magic-enhanced and very pronounced. The mirror reflected a leaner frame, two well-proportioned C cups, and a hint of a six-pack teasing beneath my skin. For god’s sake, I had even lengthened vertically, four inches to be exact, standing taller in more ways than one, you know?

Driving back with a post-workout high, my thoughts drifted to my fans at the gym. I've got to admit, I loved the attention, and rocking the type of gym gear that raised both brows and heart rates had its perks.

There were offers on the table to make me some kind of fitness queen on the gram. They came buzzing like bees to honey, but it wasn't for me. Then consider my body, courtesy of some enchanting genetic tweak; it set the bar of reality-bending relatively high.

So, I held my ground because what truly mattered was getting better and stronger. And, of course, every once in a while, skewering myself on an irresistible piece of man-meat, but always with Nina, my ride-or-die, right there.

Speaking of Nina, she was always there rooting for me during every slick slide, every gasping high, right beside me. But, hell, she never strayed. No touching the hired guns that rolled through our sheets.

No one else got the slide of her hands, the sweet pressure of her lips – that was exclusively my fucking privilege. Said it clearly, didn’t she? She had laid it down – It was me, me alone, that got to be her whole damn universe, all soaked and dripping in desire.

At that moment, I felt the pang of what I lacked. That old dick of mine, the very instrument of her pleasure, I was now without. She deserved those lofty peaks, the thrill of being thoroughly fucked, and that was the one joy I couldn't give her now.

Striding through our door, I was still feeling the burn from the gym. Damn, if the pokies weren’t leading the charge under my bra. Those booty shorts might as well have been a second skin, my cameltoe practically branded into the fabric.

Seems like my getup was an open invitation for some gym bro to offer help with "fixing my posture." Nice try, buddy. So, I gave his crotch a friendly, lingering 'thank-you' grind; gotta love the impromptu dry humping and his posture held up superbly, I must say. Maybe later in the week, he’d fancy giving me a more in-depth 'lesson' on 'really ironing out those kinks', you know?

Anyway, I was all smug smiles—until the candlelit ballet in our living room halted me mid-strut. Lingerie, scattered like an erotic treasure trail, called me toward the staircase.

''Ninaaaa! Honey!!!!'' The silence that answered me was like a strip tease for the ears and far more tempting than my prior thoughts of 'posture corrections.'

At the foot of the stairs, a delicate jewellery box awaited with a post-it note. It carried a simple directive: ''Please put them on.'' My fingers worked hastily. The earrings were the same, but now very different from where my testicles once hung. There were now hearts crafted with twisting bands of white, rose, and yellow gold, each cradling a solitary heart-shaped diamond.

Without hesitation, they dangled from my lobes by the time I took my next step. With the renewed riches framing my face, I headed up, heart pounding, past the intimate breadcrumbs.

There she knelt, just beyond the doorway of our bedroom, her gesture of surrender so pure, her nose tenderly brushing the ground beneath her. Her hands crossed behind her back as far as she could reach. Framing the pose, a solitary red envelope lay before her.

She was a vision in the same maid's outfit that I wore on the night of my rebirth. Our roles reversed—and here she was, offering herself to me.

As the quiet of the space around us stretched on, Nina's voice broke through, intimate and raw. " this is for you... For us," she murmured, her voice a caress against my soul.

Now that I knew my role, I leaned forward towards her without pause as she waited like a present to be unwrapped. I closed the space between us with a kiss atop her head, the fucking turn-on. Envelope in hand. I opened the vessel of her words. Reading, I felt the pull of her soul and a rising ache when I read the message.

My Most Precious Eve,

Today, I emerge from under the dark clouds that once loomed over me, feeling a growing light and calm take their place. I come to you now, surrendering with open arms, ready to honour your every need and stand firm on my promise to forever stand by your side.

I acknowledge, with a weighty heart, that I carved those chasms of grief within you. It is only fitting that I dedicate myself to constructing bridges of joy across them. I offer up every shred of myself to heal the divides wrought by my own deeds.

My love for you extends beyond language. It pulsates as a steadfast rhythm within me. It is the seeking of your tender favour, your enduring love, and, most of all, your trust. This has to be the path toward not just undoing old harms but creating a new future filled with the richness of our life together.

Accept this letter as a binding declaration of my resolve. I will mend what I broke, never make those mistakes again, and hold tight to the forgiveness you have given me. I forego any posture of dominance that I held in our bond, unveiling my soul wholly in the quest for your absolution.

As a sign of my love and commitment to our voyage of recovery, I invite you to the dresser. There you will find a humble but sincere gift from my heart to yours, showing my feelings and pledge.

With all the love that brims my heart and the hope I cradle for our shared tomorrows,

Forever yours,

Nina

Damn, these tears, leaking all over the place. There she was, my darling Nina, kneeling there, offering herself up, blaming herself for all the chaos we had gone through. Bearing the weight of our twisted year with such remorse it made my heart bleed. God, how I wished I could be a man for her again, if just for a moment—to be everything she needed.

While I would have loved a conversation now, she clearly needed this play to unfold first, so I acted accordingly. "Come now, dear heart, unveil your mysteries to me," I muttered, sliding over to the dresser to see the vestiges of her offerings. An invitation in the form of a little note teased me to peek inside the top drawer. If it wasn't a seductive red box matching the lustful shade of Nina's envelope, I didn't know what was.

I snatched it up and, with deliberate drama, unfurled the box's lid as I tottered over to Nina. My footing was so close that, just as I unhinged the box, my toes inadvertently found themselves in the grasp of her fervid tongue. She was going to town on them as if there were no tomorrow. What's a girl to do but enjoy it when in Rome?

I leisurely teased the box open and lazily basked in the worship of my foot. Then, out spilt 'Adam 2.0'—different, kinkier—a double-ended beast that made my mouth water. "Looks like we're playing upgrades now," I purred. As I lifted my toes from the ground, I realized that her tongue had only gotten fiercer with the unplanned increase in access.

Inspecting this double-ender, I noted the familiar 'golden raisins' embedded on one side. Next to it, there was an exquisite "Eve's Adam" inscribed in gold. The colour perfectly matched mine. Every tiny detail was sculpted with lascivious attention.

It hinted at the meticulous labour poured into each curve. It was a gift that twisted just right. Knowing Nina, it certainly had its role to play. Decision made—this was going to be an experience to remember. I was going to savour every sinfully sweet offering.

Casually, I let the box clatter to the floor, pulling away from Nina's eager mouth. I settled on the edge of the bed, a dance where every step counted, and I could feel her ready to leap after me at my command.

"Kitten," I teased her, "do you have a name that sings to your soul right now?" But she—Nina—was all in, her voice quivered against her programming’s design, whispering out, "In your world, I'm whatever you choose to name me."

Ah, Nina—the 'I' sings. Sweet as sin, sacred as prayer, binding as fate. That name I loved wrapped around my tongue, calling her closer with a crook of my finger. "Niiiiinaaa, Yvonne's craving some attention, and time isn't waiting." The shorts slid down, and her mouth met the sweat and musk of my clit with fierce desire.

There she was on all fours, like a woman starved. My pet worked with a singular purpose, her mouth becoming a haven that brought me to peaks I could not climb alone. She lunged with all hunger and heat, lapping up between my thighs and chasing after my clit like it was her lifeline.

This moment—indulgent, filthy, and divine—was all mine. Mmmm, this was the life, all right. Propped up by my hands, spread wide and open—my little pet devouring me with fervour. Moaning like a whore, I gave in to the pure pleasure, anchored deeply within her, with one destination—my satisfaction. Here I was, eyes rolling back in bliss, and 'Adam' lay forgotten in the lust-filled haze that surrounded us.

I whispered sweet little pet names down to her as she wove her magic, and I soared! Cresting the wave to a soul-shattering orgasm that transcended the realm of flesh. My grip tangled in her hair. I pulled her tight, riding out the storm as her mouth became my sanctuary, and as I released my joy into her, she made sure not a single drop of ecstasy was wasted.

As I regained my senses, I felt her body quake beneath me—the cheeky thing had been getting off too. Mmm, naughty, naughty... A punishment would undoubtedly follow, but later, once I had returned to earth from the heavens, she had cast me into. Of course, I would let her get her rocks off first. My actions were that of a considerate mistress or, perhaps, more fittingly, her master.

Yes, she had let go of her claim, her title. But in my heart, she would always be my mistress. But there was something wonderfully sweet about this little switch in dynamics. Lying there, silently plotting, I decided to quietly nurture her excess, carefully planning every stroke to come, each one to be cherished. Because when it comes to desire and discipline, well, that's a master's prerogative.

I suppressed the urge to coax her onwards. Instead, I let her pleasure crest and crash. I allowed her the liberty of her little rule-breaking climax. Then, I let it fade into satisfied silence. Her body's tremors still echoed through our mutual bliss.

Gently grasping her chin, I lifted her gaze just enough to lock eyes, letting the air crackle with unspent desire. "It seems you couldn’t help yourself, Nina... A lesson is in order, wouldn’t you say?" My words fell with a tease as my gaze flitted toward the sidelined Adam. Cutting short any words from her, I directed, "Act, don't speak, my pet."

A mere order was enough to have her lavishing Adam with adoration. She worked over my name with her tongue in desperate worship. Her fervour and abandon had me suddenly aching for the past. Oh, how I yearned for the sensations of my once flesh-and-blood erection under such devoted attention, not just as a witness but as a recipient.

Noticing my envy with just a glance, she moved 'Adam' into position between my legs, touching my soaking folds. Her mouth worked 'Adam' with fervour, and as the heat from her actions spread, I felt shocks of pleasure that seemed to caress me both inside and out.

Just as I was surrendering to this sensation, one unlike any I had felt before, it drew me toward a new kind of euphoria. 'Adam' sank deep, and an explosive tide of pleasure threatened to tear me apart, igniting every nerve. The world blurred into a haze of white-hot bliss. Oh my god... the ecstasy!

I must've blacked out. Awareness returned slowly. I found myself sprawled upon the bed, with Nina between my legs. Her mouth was fervently claiming my arousal. I blinked in confusion, only half-lucid. I peered past my breasts as Nina, eyes looking back at me, withdrew for a moment.

She gasped with a delirious smile, then encircled the crown with her tongue and dove back into her task. This wasn’t just ‘Adam’; it was a part of me, IT WAS ME—undoubtedly alive and pulsing. What the hell had she wished for?

But those were thoughts for later; this was simply the time to lay back and enjoy what was being offered. The tremors of a seizure-like climax were still pulsing through every part of me. Knowing the calculated wiles of Nina, this suggested that this very state was her desire.

For the first time since we kicked off today's deliciously sinful escapades, my hands hadn’t been touching her. When I was about to plunge them into her silky strands, she pulled away from me, eyes gleaming with adoration. "Mistress, just lie back and soak in the moment. Your pleasure is my sole desire today," she asserted.

"Master, mon petit chaton," I purred affectionately while guiding her head back to where it rightfully belonged. "And I appreciate you speaking French," I instructed.

"Oui, Maître," she purred before her mouth enveloped me again. It was time to assert myself. "You're gonna swallow every inch of my cock. Do you get me?" Her eager moan was all the answer I needed.

"Knew you’d listen," I exhaled as the heat built. "Now faster, don’t stop." She chased the rhythm before I urged, "Go deeper, much deeper." She obeyed, damn near swallowing me whole. "All of it, come on!" I demanded. "Relax and just let it in." She closed her eyes, pushing past the choke... and there it was; she took me whole, her gasping gags a sweet melody to my ears.

I lost myself. "Oh, fuck, just like that! Faster, my slut! Make me come, bitch! Yeah, that's it! Fucking send me over the edge, you gorgeous fiend! Yes, that’s fucking perfect!" I lost all semblance of control. My hands grasped her hair as I drove deep, my hips bucking involuntarily. A howl of uncontrollable pleasure tore free as I climaxed, my release vast and relentless.

With cheeks bulging, she continued until she had devoured every drop. She climbed to meet me in a kiss as I beckoned with my fingertip, sloppy and sweet, with passion and the taste of myself. How damned perfect was this? My baby Nina, loving, serving, and apparently pretty pleased with her own handiwork. Surely no soul, especially a chick-with-a-dick, could have been as blessed.

"You've been up to something, haven't you, my petite amoureuse du coq,” I whispered into her ear. "Yes, Master, while not everything could be reversed, I managed this bit of magic at least," she answered, a playful bite sending shivers down my neck.

Why, then, the surgery? My cunt, tight and goddamn perfect, was a velvet vice ripe for the taking, but what now with my cock’s return? And then it slammed into me, visions whirling like a cyclone.

Nina pinned, helpless, bucking against the wall, Eve's, my hands a fucking fortress on her quaking back. I'm her beast, her Queen and king, ploughing into her, balls-deep and beyond, owning her cries like they're my due. I’m the storm she called down. Punishing, devouring, ensuring she’ll remember every godforsaken plunge as the last salvation on earth.

A flicker, and there's Yvonne, on all fours, distended and dripping. I’m gleaming, splayed, pried open, and dripping from a ghost’s harsh pounding. Mistress is ever-attentive. She swipes through my split folds, pilfering pearl strings of cock honey. She pushes the mess toward my drool-drenched mouth. With glazed eyes, I suckle each finger, relishing the grime like the good little slut I am.

A flash burns through. Eve, I, the ballsy bitch, swigging a beer, cocksure and in command, with sports blaring like some sort of macho soundtrack. And there's Nina, beneath my throne, gobbling up my cock with absolute fucking devotion. Those doe eyes implore, begging soundlessly, almost painfully, for the torrent of my spunk. She sucks like a primo whore, a testament to my reign, slurping on my junk like it's the holy fucking grail.

My mind flickers, and I am strung up. Chains bite into my flesh. Yvonne is, their plaything, displayed and heaving. Hands tied, swinging on a chain. airborne and spit-roasted between the mistress and some hulking brute. She is merciless. Each plunge into my yielding womanhood draws out whines of love-sick desperation. Behind, he impales my welcoming rump, rendering me voiceless save for the groans that sing their names. I'm the poor, willing captive pleading for more.

The psychic instructions laid it out clearly, seducing me with the power of choice. Whether the cock stood at attention or the pussy wept for an exquisite fucking, my body was a chameleon of lust.

With Yvonne at the helm, I would be bound by the desires of others. I could shed my equipment, leaving my love-nest bare, wet, and earnest. It thirsted for the rough satisfaction of being thoroughly owned.

But when I feel the strength of Eve stir within, ‘Adam’ returns, hard and demanding like the comeback of an exiled ruler. And Nina, my queen of whores, she'd drop to her knees with reverence, welcoming me driving into her essence, owning every ripple of her flesh.

"Mmm... you’ve yet to reveal the details of those enigmatic resolutions we made," I murmured, to which Nina's voice quivered, "Hmm... It is very detailed, but one key part is that I've resolved, quite specifically, to have your baby this year." The crack in her voice betrayed her uncertainty and the hidden layers of all her emotions.

A baby, our baby? A little one who would be part of both of us. I couldn't delay, couldn't ponder; I could only act. I drew her close with a fiery embrace and kissed her like nothing else existed.

Much later, when our passionate interlude began to wane. With a wicked chuckle, I announced, "We've got roughly thirty days to spawn our love child." Whip out the 'welcome mat,' 'cause Daddy's got a special delivery that's overdue for drop-off!"

Her response was a sultry nip followed by a firm yank that had me seeing stars. "Whoa! Mind the goods. That's your sperm bank you're roughhousing!"

Synopsis
Rick Longwood was a man who simply couldn't get enough. A bastard who left a trail of broken women in his wake, he thought he was untouchable. Unfortunately for him, one of his recent victims was Dr. Michelle Valentine, our favorite fiery surgeon. Never cross a woman who spent a year feminizing a man and loved it. especially if she has a bit of magic on her side, even if she doesn't know it. Poor Rick is well and truly fucked!

Author's Note
It's been a while since I returned to this series, and it feels like coming home. Now that we've resolved Yvonne and Nina's story (mostly), there are so many more tales waiting to be told. The Box of Resolutions offers endless possibilities, and I have so much more to share with you. To all my readers, thank you for your support and patience. This series will forever be special to me, and I hope this new chapter entertains you just as much as the others have.

Quick point: I have several NSFW images in this story, but you will need to click them to view the contents. Where they are, I have explicitly mentioned 'Click the link below to find out.' Feel free to skip them. It is entirely optional, and I do not want you to feel forced to view them. However, I think they do add an extra layer of...mmm personal satisfaction.

Binding Resolutions Chapter 7: A Cocksman No More

I woke up strapped to something. Tried to move my hands, but they were tied down tight. My head felt like it was full of smoke, with only vague recollections of the last time I was conscious. A bar, heavy booze, and a night with some chick I barely remembered shoving off me before raiding her liquor cabinet. But this—this was different. This was fucked up.

“Shit,” my eyes went wide when I saw the figure looming over me. “No fucking way.”

It was her. The woman I did a number on a few months back. Doctor Michelle Valentine, smoking hot surgeon, and—fuck me—one of the wealthiest women I've ever bedded. I'd know that fierce glare anywhere, and was that a fucking operating theatre? Did she buy it? She certainly could afford it.

Daddy's money had paved her way through medical school; she wouldn't shut up about it during our brief fuckfest together. Now I was strapped to a gurney in her domain, with her appearing to be in full control. No question about it—the bitch owned this place and probably whatever she was about to use on me.

“Rick Longwood. The man who just can't get enough,” she mused with a sick smile. “Fuck ‘em and fuck ‘em harder, right Rick?” She spoke softly, but her tone dripped with sweet malice.

I scanned her from head to toe, my mind fucking reeling. She was even more of a bombshell than I remembered. How the fuck did she go from fit and slender to a goddamn sex freak? She had been pretty hot before—slim and sweet. Now, she looked like she was yanked straight out of a porno. TMy dick hardened just looking at her. "Fuck me."

Her tits were bigger now. Those damn melons practically spilled out of her lingerie. Her nipples were as hard as diamonds. They poked through the sheer fabric, begging to be abused. Her red hair tumbled in loose waves around her shoulders like a fucking halo for those piercing green eyes, staring daggers right into me.

Her hips were wider, and her curves screamed “fuck me” with every step she took as she walked towards me. Her ass could make a gay priest drool and those lips, those plump, cock-craving lips, were twisted into a cruel smile now. She looked like a top-shelf whore, and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to bury my cock in her or run the hell away.

Michelle strutted up to me, her hips swaying with every step like a stripper on a mission. She leaned in close, her soaked panties just inches from my nose. The pungent, musky scent of her arousal hit me like a goddamn freight train. “Get a whiff of that, Rick,” she purred with sadistic pleasure. “You like that, don’t you? Mmm, just seeing you makes me so fucking wet. But seeing you like this? Tied up and helpless? God, it’s making me hornier than ever.”

She shoved her crotch closer, forcing me to take a deep breath of her stench. Her hand gripped my head and mashed it into her soaked panties, the overwhelming scent making my eyes water. “Wait a minute,” I thought, “that smells like cum and pussy... shit!” My nose was buried in it. She chuckled, “Freshly fucked by the biggest cock I could find,” she sneered with a wicked grin. “But the poor bastard couldn’t hold a candle to you. Even his best effort left me disappointed... Rick, you were always special. Only your cock could make a 6'3" guy with an 8-inch dick look like a goddamn sissy.”

She laughed, the sound both cruel and delighted. "Honestly, Rick, your monster cock set the gold standard. All these other men with their so-called 'magnificent' dicks can’t even come close." She shoved my head harder against her drenched crotch. The nauseating stench and taste of her arousal mixed with another man's cum. It overwhelmed my senses. I wanted to scream, to fight back, but the straps held me firm. "I know it’s a new experience for you, but you’ll get used to it soon enough."

She left nothing to the imagination. Her panties were soaked and clinging to her like a second skin, dripping with the evidence of her whoring. She shoved my face deeper into her twat, making sure I couldn't escape the rank odour. It was like she was rubbing salt into the wound, except the salt was her filthy body—and the literal cum. The sight, the smell—it was overpowering and utterly revolting. My stomach churned with every breath I took, the sensations making my head spin.

Yeah, I loved women—loved fucking them, loved ditching them. That’s what I did. Sue me. The only problem was, this time, I’d left a bit more than a dent. Took off with her 2023 Lamborghini Aventador. Jesus fucking Christ, what a piece of machinery that car was. Midnight black, smooth curves, and a hell of a lot faster than any chick I’d ever banged. The V12 engine roared like a goddamn beast and the interior? More luxurious than any bedroom I'd ever been in. Watching her standing in front of her house. Screaming at the empty space where her precious Lambo had been was the fucking cherry on top.

It wasn't easy reeling her in, though. Michelle wasn’t dumb, gullible. She was a sharp, savvy surgeon with a brain to match her smokin' hot body. I had to work my way into that tight-ass heart to get into her panties. Took my best lines, my most convincing lies. I had to lay it on thick with the pricey dinners, the bullshit heart-to-hearts, and endless sweet talk. I made her believe I was her knight in shining armour, only for her to wake up one morning to find her knight had ridden off with her steed. fucking priceless!

And the sex—fuck, the sex was out of this world. She was the perfect little fuck toy, a game for anything and everything. She’d worship my cock for hours. She'd crawl over to me the moment I walked into her place. She'd suck me off without me even having to ask while I kicked back and watched the game. Her lips—plump, luscious—she had them done just for me, she said, to make her mouth the perfect cock-sleeve. And she used them well, her tongue swirling around my shaft like it was some holy ritual. She’d slobber all over it, taking me deep into her throat, her eyes tearing up with gratitude.

The best part? I didn’t even have to beat her into submission. She willingly degraded herself for me. She fucking lived for it. She’d crawl, beg, and plead, making herself the perfect little whore. I’d snap my fingers, and she’d act like my personal slut, always eager and ready to do whatever it took to keep me happy.

Her pussy was a vice, tight and hot, gripping me like it never wanted to let go. I’d barely slide in, and she’d start convulsing, her moans filling the room as she came over and over. Her nipples were ridiculously sensitive. Just a flick from my tongue or a light pinch, and she'd be writhing in pleasure. After our first fuck, she was hooked. She became my perfect little fuck slut, her entire world revolving around my cock. I’d stretch her out in every position, her body arching, begging for more like a goddamn porn star.

She treated me like a master, a fucking god. I’d cum all over her—her face, her tits, her pussy—and she'd wear it like a badge of honour. She'd lick it off her fingers while savouring every drop like it was fucking champagne. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to make me happy. Once, I had her hanging from chains for four hours. Her body was suspended mid-air. Her nipples were erect and aching from the clamps while I fucked another chick right in front of her. She didn’t complain; she didn’t whine. She got wetter by the second, her pleasure only amplified by the sight of me getting off.

After I was done with the other chick, Michelle crawled over like the obedient slut she was. She ate her out like a starving bitch, cleaning up every drop while moaning with pure delight. She knew I had a thing for other men's wives and cuckolding them. I’d bring them over and force her to serve them, making her the ultimate submissive slut. Fuck, this was her letting me cuckold her, always finding satisfaction in my pleasure. When I brought in other men's wives, she'd dive into serving them. She'd relish every moment like the dirty whore she was.

It didn’t just stop there. I made her a maid in her own house, cleaning up after my messes, serving me drinks, and waiting on me hand and foot. She fucking loved it, her submissive side completely unlocked. She would thank me for the privilege, believing her duty was to serve and please me in every way possible. She lived for it, her entire existence wrapped around being the perfect little slut for me. Who could ask for more? Well, I did.

The reason I split town in the first place was 'cause one of the chicks I knocked up went and offed herself. Poor dumb bitch couldn’t handle the heat and took the easy way out. They hadn't figured out my identity yet, but I knew it was just a matter of time before they put the pieces together. Dodging the law became priority number one. So, I bailed. I never thought she’d find me. Hell, I thought I was scot-free, ridin’ high and livin’ large.

But the cherry on top was that final act of theft. I didn't just take her car—I swiped her credit cards and drained her accounts too. I racked up a quarter mil in no time, living it up while she was left behind, humiliated and broken. The Lambo, the cash, the lifestyle—it was all too tempting to pass up. And so I prioritised. I left her with nothing but memories of a cock she would never find again. All while cruising in her stolen car and blowing her money on whatever the fuck I wanted.

So yeah, imagine my surprise and horror at finding myself at her mercy now. I’d taken everything from her, and now, it seemed she was determined to pay me back—times a thousand. This wasn’t just casual fun gone wrong. This was revenge she was going to savour, one cut at a time.

"Hey, Doc! Long time no see," I tried to joke, but my voice wavered. This was no everyday bullshit encounter. I wasn’t in a position to charm my way out of this one.

"Surprised you remember me, Rick," she cooed, taking a firm grip on my cock. THe bastard was already rock hard despite my face still buried in her cum-filled cunt. "I had you loaded on Viagra and I prepped and preened myself just for you... didn't want you going soft as you hear me out. You like it I presume." Damned pervert. Here I was, tied up and taken out, and my cock still thought it was party time.

Michelle’s fingers wrapped around my shaft, stroking it in a manner that sent jolts of twisted pleasure through my body. "You know," she began, very aroused, "your cock is something else. It’s huge, magnificent." Her grip tightened, her rhythm slow and steady. "Just touching it makes my pussy drip, Rick. It’s fucking addictive, like heroin."

I tried to speak, but she shoved me deeper into her wet panties, nearly smothering me with her overpowering scent. The rich aroma overwhelmed my senses, making my head spin. "Mmm, not so fast, Rick," she whispered with sadistic delight. "You’re not getting off that easy." She paused for a moment, then laughed to herself, enjoying the double meaning.

Her touch grew more aggressive, the strokes faster and more relentless. My cock twitched, betraying me with every pump of her hand. "See, Rick," she continued eagerly, "this cock of yours... it’s like it was made to be fucking worshipped. So many nights, I couldn’t get enough. I dreamt of it, craved it."

Her laughter, cruel and piercing, echoed in the room. "You always thought you were the king, huh? Well, now I'm the fucking queen, and this incredible cock of yours—" she squeezed hard, making me wince— "is mine." She tugged sharply, sending a jolt of pain through my body. "Guess what, Rick? This is just the start. Just wait until we really get going."

I tried to pull back, to take a breath, but her grip on my head was firm, forcing me to inhale her nauseating scent. The potent mix of sweat, cum, and arousal filled my nostrils, making me gag. “Mmm, smell that cocktail, Rick. Does it reek of satisfaction or burning need? Bingo! You must be proud. Freshly fucked, I let myself be used by two men, stretched out, abused, and filthy with their cum, just to avoid the temptation of fucking you. But still, it’s only your cock that really does it for me.”

Michelle, twat still in my face, bent down in that uniquely sensual way she had, her lips inches from my throbbing member. "No, Michelle," she said to herself as she hesitated, shivering momentarily as if fighting temptation. "Okay, just a little kiss for now," she muttered before planting a wet kiss on the tip. Fuck it still sent a shiver down my spine despite the hopelessness of my situation.

"You know, Rick," she continued, caressing my shaft with a steady rhythm, "I loved servicing you. You were the first man I wholly wanted to please. I just wanted to worship you, to be your little fuck toy, to do anything to make you happy. I always thought I was dominant, but something in your cock unlocked my inner slut. And for that, I thank you. Though, finding another dick like yours has been quite the challenge."

Her hand moved faster, more aggressively now, stroking me with a relentless pace. "I didn’t mind sharing you with others." Your cock was too magnificent to keep to myself. Watching you fuck other women only made me more desperate to please you, more eager to see you in action. Their used and abused bodies, all because of your cock—ugh, it drove me wild."

Her voice took on a fevered pitch, arousal dripping from every word. "Every time you left me dripping with cum, I wanted more. More of your cock, more of your dominance. I needed it, Rick. Needed you to stretch me, fill me, use me until I couldn't think straight. And seeing you do it to others? Fuck, it made me even wetter.”

Michelle's eyes gleamed with sadistic joy as she continued. "You could have had anything you wanted from me. Anything. That’s how much you—your cock—meant to me. In fact, the very night you ran away, I was planning something special.

Nina, my dear friend, you’d been repeatedly telling me how much you wanted to fuck her. As you know, she is happily married, but I was more than willing to ruin it for you. I was certain that once she had a taste of your virility, she would become a willing participant in our fun." She paused and whispered to herself, "Okay, one more little kiss," before planting another wet kiss on my cock.

I felt my heart pound harder as her words sunk in. Nina was gorgeous, curvier than Michelle, but nowhere near how she looked now. I had visited her place during one of her grand New Year parties a few years ago when she had not been married yet, and I was a skinny runt. I remember that night because that was when I had resolved to be the 'greatest cocksman in the world'. Over the course of the year, I had become just that. My body and dick transformed near-magically over the next few months to make me irresistible to any bitch.

Pity I couldn't screw that sex bomb before she moved upstate. Hell, the only reason I chased Michelle so hard was because I knew they were friends. The idea of fucking them both was intoxicating—a dirty fantasy that kept me up at night. Ohh! I’d jacked off way too many times to thoughts of the sluts below me at the same time.

Michelle's voice cut through my haze as she laid out her plan. "Okay, a quick little suck," she told herself before giving my cock a quick, tantalising suck before pulling back reluctantly. "No more, Michelle," she whispered.

"I was going to bring her home, you know, with her… Yvonne—oh, you don't know her, do you? Poor Yvonne, freshly 'snipped' and her manhood reduced to a useless little cocklette. Damn, Adam had the only other cock that could even compare to yours. Anyway, the plan was to have you fuck me right in front of them, to put on a show so filthy and depraved, that Nina wouldn’t be able to resist joining in. I knew that once she saw and felt your magnificent cock, she wouldn’t stand a chance."

Michelle's arousal was escalating. She almost leaned down to suck my cock again but stopped herself with her body trembling to maintain control. "No, no, Michelle. No More!" she muttered, squeezing my dick hard, making me wince in pain.

"Picture it, Rick. You, pounding me senseless while Nina watches, her pussy dripping wet. And then she joins in, begging for your cock. Her tight little married cunt clenching around you as she moans like a desperate whore just like me. Just thinking about it makes me so damn horny," she confessed, her hand moving faster on my shaft.

"We would have spent the night pleasuring you, filling the room with our moans and screams. And Yvonne, with her pathetic little stub, would’ve been forced to watch, tears streaming down her face. Her stitches would be fresh and aching. Still she would crawl over, with nothing but her broken spirit, to lick up every drop of cum from Nina’s ruined pussy."

She shivered with arousal, fighting the urge. "Alright, one more suck," she muttered as she wrapped her lips around my cock once more, slurping loudly before pulling away again. "Okay, that's it, Michelle. Control yourself."

"Yvonne would have been our pet, our cum-cleaner, her once-proud cock now a laughable stump. She'd have knelt there, her eyes swollen from crying, her tongue eagerly cleaning up every mess we made. Her only purpose, beyond cleaning, would be to serve Nina as she screamed in pleasure from your brutal fucking."

"I didn’t just want to make a scene for Nina to watch. I wanted to break Yvonne’s spirit completely. I wanted her to see what a real cock could do. Leaving her with nothing but the taste of cum and the sight of her wife being thoroughly ravaged by you, Rick."

"I wanted everything for you, Rick. To make you the king of our little perverse kingdom. But no, you ran away, shattering those dreams and leaving me with nothing but memories and this rather delightful thirst for revenge."

Her voice softened, growing almost wistful. "But you know, Rick, the thought of Yvonne—Eve, Adam—being reduced to that...No it doesn’t sit well with me anymore. He...she...is extraordinary, and I'm glad Nina is willing to share. They’ve been my rock since you left, and I realise now it's good you never met them."

Who the fuck was this Yvonne, Adam person? Her constant switching between names and genders only confused me further. Was Yvonne the freshly snipped one she mentioned, or was that someone else? And who the hell was Eve? I felt my head swimming with questions, each one more baffling than the last. It was like listening to a madwoman's ramblings.

Her eyes darkened, a flicker of regret passing through. "I’m almost surprised I was willing to go that far, to use and break someone so precious. Again, it’s a real relief you never crossed paths with them. But then, you wouldn't understand the bond we share now. It's something deeper, something I didn’t have before. Good they are whole.. No, better than whole again."

She took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as she tried to regain control. "But that's enough sentiment," she purred, her hand moving back to my throbbing shaft. "Let's get back to the pleasure, shall we?"

Her stroking became more intense as she spoke. "On Christmas Eve, you ran away, leaving me with shattered dreams and an empty bed. You took off with my car and my money, but more than that, you took off with the one cock that could truly satisfy me."

She bent lower, her breath warm against my throbbing member. "Finding another like yours has been impossible. Not even Adam, as magnificent as he is, compares," she whispered, her voice oozing with raw lust. "You were special, your dick is special, Rick. And now, I have you and, more importantly, ‘it’ right here. It's time that I act on my own resolution."

Shit! Resolution? There was something magical about those New Year's parties. No way in hell would I have transformed so much in a year if magic wasn't involved. I was certain her resolution, much like mine, was some type of magic. I needed to know what she resolved to do.
“What did you resolve?” I asked, my voice muffled by her crotch.

“Awww… look at you asking,” she cooed, her tone patronising and cruel. “I resolved to use your cock as I saw fit. To have my own little Yvonne. To have what Nina had and to have love. The good news is that I have the love situation sorted with Nina, Adam, Eve, and Yvonne. And now I'm moving with them. Isn’t that wonderful? But now that Yvonne is only part-time, we’ll need a new slutty maid. How does Yvette sound?"
Shit! Shit! Shit! Was she going to turn me into a broad? Could she even do that? I was in full-blown panic now.

"You'll make a perfect little maid, Rick," she sneered. Her eyes gleamed with twisted excitement. We'll make sure you’re the sluttiest maid. Tight little pussy, perky tits, the works. Our precious Yvette, always wet and ready, begging for more, and you'll love every bit of it.”

"HOW DOES YVETTE SOUND, RICK?" she commanded, shoving my face harder into her, cutting off my air. I was suffocating now. "Your dick seems to like it, so Yvette, it is." She declared with finality. "Just to show you how nice I am, I'll let you keep your name until you cum… Rick."
“Did you know that I come from a family of lumberjacks? Just a snip here and a snippety snip there, and poof!” she grinned like a maniac. “Ahh, Dr. Lumberjills next chop is coming up.”

"But before that... What's important is my kindness to you... your big hurrah... let’s give you that last big orgasm, yes?" She moved away, finally letting me breathe, letting me speak.

"Please, Michelle, don’t do this!" I begged, my voice cracking with terror. "I'll do anything, just don't turn me into a chick. Please, I'll be your slave, your toy, anything—just don't do this!"

“Aww, listen to you begging," she sneered. "But you know it’s too late for that." She picked up a syringe, gleaming under the surgical lights. She let me see it before she returned to jerking me off.

Her demeanour shifted suddenly as she bent down. Her lips again brushed my cockhead in a lazy, almost loving kiss. "Mmm, just another taste," she whispered to herself. Then, she took me into her mouth and let her tongue swirl around the tip. My cock twitched involuntarily, and the only noise in the room was her sucking me off.

Then, without warning, she plunged down harder, taking me all the way to the base. She gagged, her throat constricting around my shaft as she choked on it. Her head bobbed up and down, drool pooling at the corners of her mouth, her nose buried in my pubic hair. She squeezed my balls, adding to the sensory overload. She sucked harder and harder, but suddenly, as if forcing herself out of a trance, she pulled up, gasping for air.

Spit dribbled down her chin, mixing with her tears. Her face was a mess of mascara streaks, glistening spit, and nasty desire. She looked up at me, a string of her spit connecting her lips to my throbbing member.

"Oh, fuck, Rick. This is what you threw away," she said hoarsely. "Could've had this every fucking day, but now it's just your last indulgence."
She gave me a wicked smile, showing me the needle poised and ready. Her hand returned to its relentless motion on my shaft, jerking me off harder. Without breaking her rhythm, she plunged the needle into the base of my cock. A sharp sting sliced through my fear as the intense burn of the injection was immediate.

"Feel that, Rick? That's just the beginning," she sneered. She moved to my balls. She jabbed the needle into my left testicle, the sting nearly making me scream, and then did the same to my right. "Should've kept it in your pants, Rick. Too late now."

All the while, her hand kept pumping my cock even harder. As the burn spread and the horror of my situation sank in, I began to lose all sensation below. Feeling nothing more than the weight of my worst fears crashing down on me.
“Do you feel it?" she asked, her tone mocking.

"No! No! I can't feel anything! Please, Michelle, stop!" Tears streamed down my face, my panic surging to unbearable levels.
"Good... good," she purred. "Just the way I wanted it... your perfect last male orgasm... all cum, no pleasure. Not for Rick, at least, but Yvette, oh Yvette’s pussy will be a whole other story."

She continued to jerk me, now also kissing and licking my zombie dick. Still hard as a rock, yet unable to feel anything. “Don’t worry though. As you may be aware, I'm quite the generous lover. I don’t intend to run away like you did, Rick… I am a woman of my word. You will get to live with us. Our little Yvette... and never fear, sweetheart… I'm not wasteful either."

Her eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure as she spoke. "We’ll let you have your cock between your legs whenever we feel that you deserve it. Only… it will always be inside you. Imagine your cock stuffed up your own pussy, stretching you out. Maybe we'll tuck it deep into that tight little virgin ass of yours. So you can feel every inch of your own disappointment. Or perhaps between those new tits, you're going to grow, trapped between your cleavage. A long, hard reminder of the man you once were. and would never be again."

She licked the tip of my cock again, her eyes locked onto mine. "You see, Rick, it’s all about perspective. While I use your cock to fuck you, you’ll be begging for more. Know that the pleasure you once gave is the only way you will find pleasure now.”

Shit!!! Did she know that resolutions were magical? My thoughts raced, wondering if she had any inkling about it. Michelle was brilliant—sharp enough to piece together the puzzle if she had any clues. Should I tell her? Could it stop her madness?

"Please, Michelle, it's the resolution that is making you do this. It is magic! Please don't do this to me... to us," I pleaded one more time, my voice trembling. As she let the words register, her eyes flickered briefly, processing everything. For a mind as sharp as hers, this was very quick to grasp.

"Magic, huh? I suspected something along those lines... but of course, being a woman of science, Occam's razor and all that," she mused, her hand still working my shaft. "Occam's razor, Rick, it means the simplest explanation is usually the right one."

"I can understand why Nina would want to keep it a secret. Now I know why she was so insistent on helping me write the resolution. Of course, she did it only after she pieced together your history and criminal track record.”

She paused, her eyes distant for a moment. "That woman has incredible connections. Only took her two days to have a full dossier on you. Over a dozen pregnancies, three suicides, and another dozen women in sex addiction rehab. You and your magic cock really did ruin quite a lot of lives. You should think of this as rehab, but honestly, that wouldn't do it justice. This is almost a reward. Life really isn’t fair huh?"

She refocused her gaze on me, a wicked smile spreading across her face. "Those two both need to be punished for keeping these secrets, but that's more fun and games for me. Looks like I'll need exclusive use of Adam for at least a week. Hmm, two... no, three maids serving for a week... delicious.”

She refocused her gaze on me, a wicked smile spreading across her face. "I see now. You might be right about the magic, Rick, but it doesn't change anything. I've made my resolution, and there's no going back now." She leaned in closer, her eyes glittering with malice. "I look forward to introducing you to your new life, my darling slut."

"Thinking of 'Adam,' though, Nina let me borrow this for the occasion," she said. She then pulled out a massive and realistic double-ended dildo. "If I remember her instructions correctly... She told me to shove it in deep before the procedure began. There must be something magical about it."

Smirking, she lifted my butt with ease; I had no strength left to resist. She propped a cylindrical cushion beneath my lower back, positioning me just right. Taking the double-ended dildo, she sucked on it a few times, coating it with her saliva, making a show of it. Slowly, she started pushing it inside me, Inch by inch, until it was all the way in. Despite my cock and balls being numb, I could feel the intrusion.

"Good... all the way in... nice and snug," she cooed, grinning. "Lovely, isn't it?"

She then began describing her plan for my transformation. "You’ll become a short and busty little thing, just like Yvonne. Pink nipples begging to be sucked. Blonde hair to give you that whorish appeal and a cute button nose. But those green eyes? You’ll keep those, just like mine. I want you to always remember who made you."

Her voice was tinged with excitement and raw arousal. She continued, "I intend to use Nina's perfect butt as inspiration to shape yours." Round, firm, and absolutely fuckable. Every time you catch a glimpse of yourself, you’ll see her."

"And of course, with Nina pregnant, it’s important that your breasts are nice and milk-filled. Faster would be better, as we all enjoy our coffees with cream. Imagine Rick, serving us every morning, watching us pour your milk into our coffee... it’s the little things that make life sweet," she laughed, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Her hands roamed my body as she whispered, "Yvette will be my masterpiece. My little toy. I can already picture you begging for more, desperate to please us." She licked her lips, her breath quickening. "You'll see all three women in you—Nina, Yvonne, and me. Every curve, every twist of flesh will be a tribute to us."

She gasped, reeking with arousal. "With each passing day, you'll understand that every part of your new body belongs to us. We'll use you, stretch you, and fill you in ways you can only imagine."

Then, almost dreamily, she added, "But we will also hug you and kiss you, give you loads of cuddles if you are good. Our slutty but good little girl, cherished, adored and wonderfully submissive. Imagine it Rick, being showered with affection and good old-fashioned fucking. You'll get all the sweetness and love you've never even imagined possible."

She leaned closer, her breath hot against my skin. "Your every moan, every cry, will be of joy, not pain. You’ll learn to love it Rick. and you will beg for it. You will be the most loved maid in the world... IF you behave."

"Think of my kindness as a thank you for helping me find my submissive side, Rick. I only want you to feel pleasure... and shame, but not pain. The lesson you taught me was enlightening. But now, I have the honour of giving the gift of your cock to my future master. Now that we have the magic cock addiction out of the way, I just need to find the right man or woman... actually, I think—I know for sure that I've found them both already. Fabulous huh? Not one but two masters for me."

Her hand never stopped jerking me off as she continued. "Oh, how I look forward to seeing them fuck you senseless, to watch you squirm and beg. You’ll experience a whole new kind of pleasure, Rick," she said with a twisted chuckle. "And trust me, you will be begging them to use ‘your gift’ in ways you never thought possible."

"Ohh... of course, the babies... the magic explains Nina's pregnancy... how could I have thought otherwise? Ohhhh, magic solves that problem... oooh," she gasped, her arousal palpable. "I expect to have a big family, Rick. Looks like I don’t need to store your semen anymore. It was a last resort anyway. No baby of mine would have an asshole for a dad, but I promise that our first baby will be born of your own dick... and you can be the mommy. Wonderful, isn't it?"

Her eyes gleamed with twisted joy. "Once the baby grows up, you will no longer need to be a maid... not nice for mommy to be the house help. I'm certain that Jacob can fill that role once we retire you. The magic has made everything possible, and you will be at the centre of it all. I cannot wait to see you embrace all the facets of your new identity."

Why was I able to feel the dildo? Why was it feeling so good? What the fuck was happening to me? The intrusion that should have disgusted me had me teetering on the edge of something else. My involuntary contractions around the dildo were sending spikes of pleasure up my spine.

"I never thought your dick could get harder, Rick. But, it looks very excited in anticipation of your future," she said. She started pushing and pulling, earnestly fucking me with the damn dildo. An involuntary moan escaped my lips.

"Glad to see you enjoying it, Rick. No unnecessary pain. I'm not a sadist, well, not outside the bedroom or when not influenced by magic, at least…I think." She quickened her pace, one hand on my cock and the other fucking me with the dildo harder. The pleasure was starting to build up my ass, though I could feel absolutely nothing in my cock.

"Feel that, Rick? Your new life. That's what you will be trained to respond to. Our pleasure and your humiliation," she purred, continuing her relentless assault. "You’ll be a slave to it. It's all about training that pretty little mind of yours."

My mind reeled from everything even as her sick excitement kept growing. "And don’t think about it too much Rick," she added between her own ragged gasps. "We'll make sure you never forget this. You’ll remember every moment, every touch. You will be a perfect blend of a pleasure doll and an obedient servant. You'll crave to love and worship us, just like you revelled in me worshipping you."

Her pace quickened. The dildo now had a steady rhythm while her hand continued to play with my unfeeling cock. "I'm just getting started, Rick," she hissed into my ear. "Once we’re done with you, you’ll thank me for transforming you into our perfect whore."

Her hands were relentless now. My cock, even paralysed from the anaesthesia, still stood hard. “Your lips will be plump, Rick. Puffier than mine. Perfect for wrapping around a cock, sucking like your life depends on it,” she cackled. “Men will fucking love sliding in and out of that tight, rosy gash. Those same lips that sweet-talked their way into pussy will be devoted to pleasuring whoever I ask them to.”

Each thrust of the dildo grew more brutal. My groans, beyond my control, became strained and desperate. “Hear that, Rick?” she sneered. “That voice, still hanging on to its masculinity. Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ll fix that too. Soon, your moans will be as pretty as they ought to be.” Her words dripped with malicious glee. “You won’t want to be a man ever again. No, you’ll crave this. You’ll be my desperate little slut, always eager to please.”

Her eyes burned as she kept pounding me. She moaned in her twisted bliss as she spoke, "You will learn to quiver and moan and serve like the perfect slut you are. We’ll make sure you love every second. You’ll crave for the humiliation, for the pleasure, for us."

The rhythm of her thrusts quickened, my body jerking and trembling. "That magnificent cock of yours is clearly the result of a resolution. Once I shove it in you, you’ll be hooked, just like me. You’ll crave it forever, begging for it deeper, harder. Every. Single. Time." Fuck! I was going get truly fucked.

She moved around, her bare, cum-slick pussy pressing against my face, her panties long gone. The pungent, musky scent flooded my senses. I wanted to fucking bite down, to hurt her, but it wasn’t an option; the goddamn magic ensured that. My lips parted unwillingly, my tongue slipping inside her. She gasped, her body shuddering.

"Good boy, Rick, keep that tongue busy. You’re doing so well. That’s your new flavour, sweetheart. You’re on your way to becoming my good girl. Or maybe my naughty girl? Doesn’t matter—you’ll be my obedient little bitch anyway. The only cum you’ll ever know will be from others. Isn’t that delightful? Isn’t that divine? You’ll treasure every drop, crave that salty taste, and beg for more, my perfect cum-hungry whore," she purred.

The taste of another man's cum mixed with her arousal had now coated my tongue. fuck! "Picture this, Rick," she hissed, "Yvette, ass up in the air, cheeks red and raw from countless spankings. Fingers gripping those tender hips as cock after cock plunges deep inside. Your only purpose is to whimper and beg. You’ll plead for it, crying out to be fucked harder, deeper. Feeling every brutal thrust, every inch, knowing your wonderful purpose."

She leaned back, grinding her wetness against my tongue. "Oh, another one for you, Rick," she whispered with gleeful malice. "My lovely Yvette, on your knees before a room full of ravenous cocks, each one eager for their turn. Your mouth working tirelessly, sucking and slurping, eyes wide with desperate need. String after string of cum dripping from your chin as you eagerly please every man in the room. You will be begging for more, lost in their filth."

Goddamn it, what was happening to me? Michelle was lost in her own twisted ecstasy, her voice thick with lust. The horror of her visions compounded with each lick, my mind reeling. It was a nightmarish compilation of humiliation, and I was trapped in her twisted grasp.
"Clearly, your cock loves it,” she taunted as she rammed the dildo deeper. I could feel the tension building, my body nearing betrayal.
She sensed it, too, because just before the explosion, she bent over, her mouth poised inches away as my body gave in. I came, and I came hard, an explosive mess of shame.

"Mmm, that’s it, Rick. Give it all to me," she murmured just before catching the first spurt in her mouth. I continued spewing out, a stream of white coating her greedy lips. "Let me fully enjoy your end as a man. Pity its the last time the ‘original’ will do its job. No worries though, the replacement should be just as amazing." She said between mouthfuls, even as she pinched my head to prevent the next release while she spoke. She sucked viciously, ensuring she got every last drop. I felt nothing in my cock—just the searing, throbbing spasms deep in my ass and my spine as the dildo stretched me.

The room was filled with the pungent smell of sex in the air. My cock, numb and useless, could only offer the vile pleasure she craved. I was just a broken tool in her hands, convulsing with every throb.

“Let go, Yvette,” she crooned while still toying with my withering cock. “Stop being such a ‘man’ and embrace your new self. You’re mine now.” My body convulsed, spasming uncontrollably as her every word solidified my new reality. I was drowning in shame as she continued to toy with my limp, defeated cock.

Finally, FINALLY! She moved her sodden pussy away from my face, leaving me gasping for breath. As my eyes fluttered open, I noticed her standing over me. Her mouth was bloated, bulging with cum—my cum—just like it used to be after she sucked me off.

She leaned over as if to kiss me but then pulled back with a smirk as she swallowed everything and licked her lips. “No... no, I promised only others' cum for those lips. No point in wasting something so precious and so permanently…gone,” she whispered. "Well, it's my cock now, Yvette. That was such a lovely little transfer of ownership, don’t you think?"

“Oh, and don’t worry about not making me cum,” she added, “You will have every chance to take care of me with your luscious mouth and that new tight pussy. With no balls to get in the way, performance will never be an issue. We will still enjoy your magnificent, perfect cock. Silly me, not yours anymore—mine. Veiny, uncut, and oh so perfect.”

I watched in horror as she wheeled over a metal cart laden with equipment. She made a show of putting on her gloves. She then stretched the latex over her fingers with careful motions. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I muttered, my panic skyrocketing. Each snap of the glove sent another wave of terror crashing over me.

“Semen works wonders for mood and depression. you would benefit from it after this little procedure. I’ll make sure you get plenty of it in the most fun and creative ways. Don’t want you thinking back on your days as a man. I don’t want my gorgeous new maid to be sad all the time, do I?”

Then, she took out a scalpel, her eyes filled with glee as she approached my balls with the fucking blade. "No, no, no! Fuck! Stop!" I screamed, my voice filled with terror. She paused, smirking at my panic. She quickly dropped the scalpel and reached into a drawer in the cart, pulling out a shiny O-ring gag.

With one hand, she grabbed my jaw, forcing my mouth open. Whatever drugs she had given me left me with no strength to fight. With the other hand, she strapped the gag in place, ensuring it was tight and secure. My screams were instantly muffled, reduced to futile, garbled gasps.
She was quick to return to her scalpel and bring it to my groin, her voice almost a loving whisper. “This moment is about you. Our little trade, your masculinity and everything you stole from me in return for me shaping you as I desire. A wonderful deal, isn’t it? Now stay awake and look down.”

She pressed the cold steel against my skin, her eyes alight with sadistic pleasure. “But once the cut is done, we need to open you up. If I'm right, the magic should help craft an exquisite pussy. I simply need to start the process, and the spell handles the rest.”

“Doctor's promise Yvette. You won’t feel any pain, so keep looking.” She murmured, her voice drenched in saccharine sweetness. “You need to embrace your new beginning in its entirety. Don’t look away now. Keep those eyes open. Watch as Rick is gone and Yvette is born.”
Every nerve in my body screamed in terror. But, her gentle command, almost loving, echoed in the sterile room. “Stay awake, darling. Look down. Observe every cut, every moment,” she whispered like a twisted lullaby.

She began to cut, the scalpel slicing through flesh. I watched horrified as the blood sprang forth, but her movements were calculated, each cut deliberate and methodical. Her eyes never left mine, even as I kept screaming through the gag, my voice muffled and useless.
“This,” she continued, “is the start of a beautiful journey, baby. You’ll feel every bit of it in your new self. The spell will make sure you experience every sensation. Delightfully intimate, don't you think?”

Her voice softened further. “I need you to see the joy this gives me and the joy I will give you once you embrace your future. My dear little Yvette. See how much pleasure you’re giving me. I promise to return the favour once you heal."

She continued to use the scalpel with unerring precision. Every stroke was purposeful and effective. My tears blurred my vision. But I forced myself to keep watching as the blade carved away my old self, piece by piece.

“Pay attention darling,” she cooed. “This is the last time your cock will be attached to you. Your masculinity will be gone in a moment. It’s amazing how a few cuts can redefine everything, isn't it? We’ll remove it in one clean piece. Then, into the nutrient medium it goes and off to my bionics guy. The spell will weave its magic, ensuring it functions perfectly for its new purpose.”

She paused, savouring the moment. “If I’ve figured out the magic correctly, the bionics guy won't think twice or bother telling anyone about how strange it is to be working on a dismembered dick. Everything will fall into place as if it were the most natural thing in the world."

She worked fast, her hands steady as she kept dabbing away the blood. Her delight was evident, yet she was an immaculate professional. I kept screaming in horror, my mind barely holding onto its sanity.

“But we’re not done yet,” she continued. “Don’t stop looking. Once the removal is complete, the fun begins. The magic should guide me as I craft your exquisite new pussy. If Yvonne is anything to go by, Yvette will be nothing short of breathtaking.”

“Feel that, Yvette?” she whispered with cruel affection. “That’s the past being stripped away, making room for the future. Our future.”
Her scalpel worked the final bits of flesh holding my manhood in place. One final, agonising cut and it was done. My cock and balls came free, held together by some twisted bit of flesh she'd retrieved.

She held up the severed part, the damn thing dripping with blood, yet it seemed to stay together. I felt bile rising, my mind refusing to accept what my eyes were seeing. She looked at me, “Look at that, darling. See how beautiful you're becoming. This is your wonderful gift to me. My recompense for everything Rick took from me.”

She brought the severed cock to her lips, giving it a wet, mocking kiss. My horror peaked, and all I could do was continue screaming into the gag. My voice, too, like my manhood, had been taken from me.

She turned back to the tray. She carefully placed the severed member into a glass tank of clear liquid. The clear fluid swirled around my amputated cock, suspending it like a display piece. Then she returned to my crotch, scalpel in hand.

“Shh, relax, Yvette,” she cooed, watching my silent torment. “This is just the beginning. Now we move on to the next phase.”
The cold steel bit into my skin as I continued to scream. My manhood had been stolen from me, and now she was turning me into a woman.

“Look Yvette. This is where your new life begins,” she whispered with malicious delight. “I want you to experience every moment, see the birth of your true self. Keep those eyes open."

Each cut was precise, stripping away every last piece of Rick. “Your new pussy will be perfect—pink, juicy, and tight. Hungry for attention, ready to be filled, and always so eager,” she hissed. “Every nerve will sing. Every touch will feel blissful.”

Her voice oozed with her perverse delight. “One day, you’ll be pregnant, our babies coming out of this exquisite pussy. It's your destiny now—to be used, to give life.”

My body convulsed, but I was forced to stay aware. “Keep looking. Don’t close your eyes. Watch the birth of Yvette.”

My vision blurred, but she kept forcing me to stay awake. “Oooh, the magic is real! It's almost as if new flesh is forming where I need it. You should heal in a few days. We will use that time to work on other parts.” She cooed, her delight palpable. “Don’t stop watching, yes. Oooh, pink skin, even better.”

"Yvette, you are going to be wonderfully naive and simple by the time I’m, finished. Why bother impressing anyone with what's between your ears when you’ll have far more enticing assets below?" Michelle purred.

She giggled with sadistic delight before continuing, "Mmm... that magnificent fucking cock of yours is now all mine. No need to try and work your way into my panties anymore. No balls, no problem huh?”

"Any special requests? Ohhh... you're probably not in the right state of mind now, sweetie. Let me think... how about a tattoo? How does 'Doctor's Delight’ sound? Or perhaps 'Cut and Compliant?' Maybe even 'I Once Had a Magic dick, Now I Tend to Yours?'"

She took a deep breath before continuing “Those luscious lips... ahhh... that wonderfully tight pussy... your puckered little hole... oh my, looks like I'll be doing all the work now. And you'll love every second of it, won't you sweetheart?"

---TO BE CONTINUED---