I moved to Los Angeles from New York about eight years ago, right after my divorce. The marriage didn't last long and ended bitterly. I now live a block from the beach in Santa Monica in a fairly exclusive high-rise apartment building. I quit my job as a graphic artist with a top advertising firm in NY, when I moved and started my own business here. I have about seven big clients who keep me busy and successful. I am lucky in that I do almost all my work from my home. I just need my computer, scanner and internet connection. My name is Steven and I'm 35 years old, 6' tall, 165 lbs, light blond hair, brown eyes, and considered good-looking. The apartment building is about 50% single people, most are attractive and successful. You almost have to be successful to afford to live in this building. I don't get out much both because of my work and a basic shyness. I don't meet people easily. That's probably why I became a graphic artist. I don't even know many of my neighbors. And that is where my problem began.
My apartment is number 10. Directly across the hall is number 11. My last name is Rogers. After I had been living here for a year a new tenant moved into #11. The new name on their mailbox was Roget. I was a subscriber to certain magazines specializing in female dominance, forced feminization and bondage. I also joined several pay sites on the internet about the same topics. One of my magazines, Forced WomanHood, didn't arrive. I wasn't too concerned until I noticed I was receiving mail for apt.11, Roget. I realized that the similarity in our names and apartment numbers was resulting in mail being incorrectly delivered. I picked up the mail in my box for Roget with the intention of delivering it personally.
Before I had the chance, my doorbell rang. I opened the door to a surprising sight. Most of the women in the building are slender, attractive and physically fit. The woman at my door was very overweight, short, sloppy, and generally unattractive. She was probably about 5'1" with mousy short, curly brown hair. Wearing sweat pants and shirt, it was hard to judge her real weight, but she was very wide. Her arms looked strong and her hand was moist as I shook it. She introduced herself as Susan Roget, my neighbor. I recovered from the surprise and invited her in. I noticed the brown paper package in her hand immediately, and thought of my lost magazine. Her head swiveled as she checked out my apartment. She made small talk, commenting on my better ocean view and how neat everything was. I told her I was a bachelor and liked things orderly. I got the impression she was far from neat. She sat down on my sofa and kicked off her sandals. I sat across from her and could see the filth on the bottom of her feet. Overall, she was not an appealing person. She was looking me in the eye when she said that she had gotten some of my mail by mistake. I tried not to react as we exchanged our bundles. I attempted to check out the magazine wrapper to see if it had been opened, but I couldn't tell. Anyway, it couldn't matter, I thought. I didn't see much of the people in the building anyway. Susan Roget asked if I would help her with some light switches in her apartment, but I referred her to the building manager. I really didn't want to have anything to do with her.
After she left, I examined the magazine envelope more closely. Sure enough, it was Forced Feminization, and the flap was closed, but loosely. I didn't know if she had seen it or not. In any event, she made no mention of it so I was probably safe.
Over the next few weeks I noticed that Ms. Roget had many daytime visitors. The apartment bells are loud and voices carry in the hallway. I didn't think much about it other than a slight surprise that she was so popular. I didn't know what she did for a living, but she seemed to be home during the day. I would sometimes check out who was visiting her across the hall by looking through the security viewer in my door. Mostly men, with a few women, all well groomed, but seemingly nervous, and always alone. I only glimpsed her when the door opened and the guests went in. She favored either sweat suit or large print dress, the type that used to be called a muu muu. It fit her like a tent. Sometimes you read stories about a man meeting a dominant neighbor. She is always attractive and sexy. There were some women in the building I fantasized about, but never would my fantasies involve a fat slob like Susan Roget.
I had sent away for an issue of DDI, a directory of dominant women and it hadn't arrived. It was way overdue, and I suspected the mail mix-up again. I had received some more of her mail and intended to use that as an excuse to see if she had mine. Rather than just knock on her door, I telephoned. She answered immediately. Her voice was sexy, if you didn't know what she looked like. She seemed puzzled for a minute, then said that yes she did have some mail for me. She had tried to return it, but I was out when she rang my bell, then she put it aside and had forgotten about it. I'm rarely out, but didn't want to call her a liar. It could have happened. She asked me to wait a few minutes before coming over so she could clean up. I almost laughed, because I thought she needed to do more than cleanup, she needed a major overhaul.
This was the second meeting with my neighbor, and the first in her apartment. I rang the bell and she answered dressed in one of her print dresses. I did notice she was wearing boots under the dress, which surprised me at the time. She even had put on lipstick! Thick and red, and slightly smeared, as if applied hurriedly. Her apartment was everything I expected. It was a mess. I didn't look as if it had been cleaned in weeks. There were old pizza boxes on the table, open soda cans, filled ash-trays, and dishes in the sink. There was a pile of old newspapers in the living room, and some old underwear and sandals by the sofa. Susan did not ask me to sit down, so I waited uncomfortably standing in her living room. She went to get my mail and when she returned with a surprise. She had one hand behind her back and held my mail with the other. She handed me the package, but I could see that the DDI magazine was not present. It would have been a large brown envelope. I was disappointed, and didn't notice Susan's other had come from behind her back. She held a jockey's horsewhip and was slowly tapping it against her thigh. I must have starred at it, hypnotized, like a mouse dropped into an anaconda's cage. She didn't say anything. Just stood there tapping the whip.
"Is something missing?" she asked innocently.
"No, nothing. Thank you. I'll be going. I'm sorry to trouble you." I said, turning to leave.
I didn't get far. A meaty, strong hand grabbed my shoulder and pulled me around.
"Not quite so fast, Steven. We have some things to discuss first."
"I don't know what you mean", I stammered. I really wanted to get out of there.
"I recognized you the minute I saw you. In a building this size I would have bet there would be at least one worth owning per floor."
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I have to go." I said turning again.
This time when she pulled be around, she slapped my face hard with her open palm. I went reeling. She was strong. She pushed me down to the floor and stood over me. "Forced Womanhood, DDI, not your standard reading matter. You're a submissive slut just waiting to be told what to do. Well, just think of me as a gardener and you're low hanging fruit. I'm collecting you. You may not realize it yet, but you belong to me."
The quiet way she said it was frightening, yet thrilling. I was submissive, but found her physically disgusting. This was not what my fantasies were like.
She bent over, so her face was inches from mine. "Now, bitch, get those clothes off." She said in a louder voice. "I'm not going to tell you twice." She was powerful, threatening and physically intimidating. I could not look her in the eye and did not doubt that she was serious. Suddenly she did not seem so comical to me. I removed my clothes and tried to fold them, but she just kicked them away, yelling at me to be faster. Finally, I was naked, still on the floor. She grabbed me by my hair and pulled me to me knees. She produced handcuffs from somewhere and walked behind me to lock my wrists together. Now that I was naked and cuffed, she stepped back and slowly circled me. I suddenly flashed on the image of a shark in the ocean circling its prey. She used the jockey whip to spread my thighs apart, and lift up my shriveled penis.
"Not very large, is it. bitch. I bet your tongue is longer." She said, looking at me thoughtfully.
I knew my cock was small. It was part of the reason for my divorce. Fully extended it barely reached six inches, but it was very small in diameter. There wasn't even a cockring that fit me. All were too large. I wished I knew what she was thinking.
My head snapped left and right as she slapped me. I hadn't even seen it coming. Then she pulled my head up. My mouth was hanging open and she spit directly in it. "My spit is going to go through your body. As it does, I am going to possess you. You are finished. Get used to it. I am going to be the most important person in your life."
I was dazed from her hits, and her words. She was crazy. She left the room for a moment, but returned almost immediately.
"Good. You didn't move. It would have been hard on you it you had. You don't do anything with my permission - talk, move, piss, shit and sometimes breathe."
I hadn't moved because I couldn't. I was dazed, cuffed and naked. She had a lipstick in her hand and proceeded to smear it over my lips. She made no pretense of just covering my lips. That was too much trouble. She just covered everything near them. Then she stepped back to admire her work.
"Now you will be known as Stephanie. Stephanie the Slut. That sounds good. I don't want to see you without lipstick on, either here or in your own apartment. It's just a reminder whenever you look in the mirror about who owns you. And call me Mistress Susan from now on. Now, crawl over to me."
She had seated herself in the center of the sofa. I crawled to her, over my clothes and old newspapers until I was directly in front, on my knees. She pulled up the bottom of her huge dress to reveal knee high boots and enormous thighs. She was not wearing any underwear. "Okay, Stephanie, let's see what I own now. Get to work on my cunt and do a good job or I'll bitchslap you until to pass out!"
I found the idea of sucking her cunt distasteful. Her fat hung in layers. I wasn't even sure I could find her cunt in all that flab. But a small part of me was thrilled and revolted at the same time. I really had no choice. This woman had stripped me, beat me, humiliated me and now intended to use me as her sex toy.
I had no time to think because Mistress Susan grabbed the back of my head and pulled me into her thighs. She pushed me in deep and she spread her legs and moved forward slightly on the couch. This position allowed me to find her cunt with my tongue. Her thighs were wet with sweat and her cunt was moist. Obviously capturing and training a new slave excited her. My knees rubbed on the carpet as my weight shifted to plunge deeper into her. I licked and sucked as best I could. There was a lot of moisture and a lot of flesh. Her clit was covered. I sucked, licked, tongued and swallowed. It seemed to take forever. Suddenly her thighs tightened around my head. It thought my head would crack. It was incredibly painful and wouldn't stop. Then, instant relief. I could breathe again. The pain in my head was gone. Now I could notice the pain in my knees. Mistress Susan pulled me away. You could almost hear the pop of the vacuum seal breaking. My chest heaved, trying to move volumes of air. I sat back to take some weight off my knees.
Mistress Susan looked down at me and took my chin in her hand. She moved her face close to mine and looked me in the eye. I lowered mine. "That wasn't bad for the first time, but you had better get good fast. I expect you to do that at least three or more times a day - when I get up, before I go to sleep and anytime during the day I feel like it. Forget about your cock. Its no good to me or probably any woman. You won't need it. I might use it as a leash. I'll have a locking chastity device by tomorrow for you. I was expecting it today. Ha! Ha! - maybe it's in your mailbox by mistake. Wouldn't that be a laugh."
This was going too fast for me. Chastity device, face-fucked three times a day by this blob of flesh, - I didn't want this. For a minute I thought she could read my mind.
"Doesn't sound like what you expected when you walked in here. Well, your expectations don't count. Mine do!"
She prodded me to my feet and had me walk into her bedroom. It was a mess. Worse than the kitchen and living room. I was placed in a chair in front of a dressing mirror. Mistress Susan re-did my lipstick, taking more care this time. She put a long blond wig on me as well as a red bra, garter belt and panties. She got out a digital camera and took some pictures. Then shoved a black dildo in my mouth and took some more. Next, she positioned me on the bed, spread my legs, tied my ankles to rings on the bedframe and put a gag in my mouth that had a dildo on each end. Mistress Susan shoved some KY jelly in my asshole and, in spite of my squirming around, shoved a pink dildo half into my asshole. A snap of the jockey whip on my cock made me stop moving. As a final touch, she put lipstick and then clothespins on my nipples. She did all this without saying a word. The only sound, aside from my moans, was the sound of the camera cranking off photos. She left me there on the bed and went into the other room. When she returned, she told me she had uploaded the images to her website in an encrypted format. She also commented that the close-ups looked great. She was sure the landlord would like to see the photos and well as my employers. She proceeded to mention my clients by name. I was stunned. She must have been in my apartment alone with access to my computer and files.
I couldn't keep up with the changing situation. I had gone from being concerned that my neighbor might know I had an interest in crossdressing, to being bound, fucked and blackmailed all at lightspeed. I knew nothing about this woman and she now occupied the center of my life. She obviously had been investigating me.
They say that the first part of brainwashing is to isolate the victim from his normal environment. Then subject him to humiliating acts and repeat over and over what you want him to believe. Well, I was isolated, humiliated, and being told that I was now Stephanie, slaveslut, property of Mistress Susan Roget, and I was starting to accept it.
While I was off in my fog, Mistress Susan was disrobing. She removed everything except her boots. She was huge. Her arms were shaky with fat. Her stomach had rolls. Her tits were like watermelons, hanging down under their own weight. Her nipples stuck out like fingers, big and thick.
"You look so pretty with that cock sticking out of your mouth that it would be a shame to waste it." She said as she mounted me. First she sat on my chest and breathing became incredibly difficult. I could only take very shallow breathes through my nose, and those painfully. She adjusted herself, and with a massive heave, move up to impale her cunt on the dildo gag jutting from my mouth. My head was squashed into the pillow. The little I could see just before my eyes were covered by the folds of her stomach was massive tits swaying over me. My head was pounded into the bed. I could only lay there and hope to survive. I tried to take some air each time she moved upward and brace for the punishing weight to follow. I have no idea how long the torture lasted. I was soaking wet when Mistress Susan finally got off me. I was exhausted, beaten and broken. It was a horrible experience that I would do anything to avoid, but part of me was thrilled to have been her dildo - craved the humiliation of being used by this dominatrix. She was physically overwhelming and against my will, I was being psychologically dominated as well.
She left me on the bed to recover as she put on her robe. The dildo gag was removed and my legs released. She shoved the pink dildo into my asshole deeper before pulling it out. "You'll be begging me for that one day. I am going to really enjoy making you into my bitch, Stephanie." She said. "Now, lick your pussycock clean."
She shoved the pink dildo that had been up my ass into my mouth. In and out like a ball washer at a golf course. When she was finally satisfied that it was clean, it got dumped into a drawer. I didn't want to think where it had been before she shoved it in me.
I had been fucked, photographed and used by her for two orgasms. I was soaked in sweat and hoped that somehow I would now be released. My new owner had other plans. She pulled me from the bed and I stood on unsteady legs. A push from her finger and I was sitting on the side of the bed. She stood next to me, spread my legs and grabbed my cock in her fist. I didn't even try to resist. I was physically beaten and she knew it.
"Let's see what you've got in your clit" she said milking me. I had no control as my cock got hard under her stroking.
"Come on bitch, give it to me. You won't get many chances like this" she said smirking. I avoided her eyes, and just looked at her tits. I was excited in spite of myself. Under her expert handling, I came in big spurts. She collected it in her hand. Before I had a chance to recover, she held my nose in one hand, pulling my head up. My mouth opened to get air, and she wiped my cum into my mouth. Her hand then dropped to my jaw and held my mouth closed until I swallowed. I gagged slightly. I had never swallowed cum before.
"Get used to it. I have some men who are going to love you - literally." She giggled.
She wiped her hands on the bed sheet and stood before me. We were almost the same height - me sitting, her standing. Again I kept my eyes lowered. She grabbed my hair and pulled my head up, forcing me to look in her eyes. Her eyes drilled into mine like lasers. I wanted to look away, but couldn't.
Finally she said, "You belong to me. You may not like it, you may not want it, but that's the way it is. You're not the only bitch I'll get from this building. I have my eye on the brunette in Apt 23. She's almost ready. I give her another two weeks before she's on her knees here. Then there's the guy in 36. He practically salivates whenever I walk by. I can get him anytime. But you were my prize. Cute, successful, alone - no girlfriend or family, works out of the apartment, and best of all - a closet submissive tv. Low hanging fruit.
Now, a few rules. You will always call me Mistress Susan, when we are alone, with other people, or on the street. You will never be standing when I am in the room. You will be on your knees or prone. You will be available whenever I want you. If you are not here, I will page you or call you. You must be here within five minutes or you will be punished. You will always wear my collar. It is not removable without damage. If you remove it, you will be damaged. I am physically stronger than you and mentally tougher. You are a helpless sissy. You need my control. You need my training. I will give you a cassette tape to play at night to reinforce my training. You will buy and wear women's underwear at all times. Throw out your present clothes tomorrow. You will get crotchless panties, garter belts, nylon stockings and bras. If you go outside, you must wear these under your normal shirt and pants. I will provide a locking cock harness with only one key - which I will keep. You will be able to piss, but not have erections without my permission. You will wear lipstick and lipliner in this building. You will practice walking steadily in high heels until you can handle 6" stilettos. You will spend most of your day in my apartment cleaning, cooking, washing, and assisting me with my clients. Oh, I forgot to tell you. I'm a professional dominatrix. I have men in here on their knees all day. You will also keep my equipment clean. Whips, chains, bondage gear, and your favorite, dildos. I may use you for demonstrations, or rent you out to some women for special parties. Your ass is mine, and I intend to use it".