Unknown Waifish Model Ch. 02

Please do not read if under 18 years of age or offended by sexually explicit stories and situations.

(c) 2003 Couture

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I blinked away the tears welling in my eyes and looked at the cute brunette in front of me critically.

She wore white. White heels, white stockings, white g-string panties, white lace corset. The corset was tight and gave her an exaggerated hour-glass figure. Her breasts were pushed up by the corset. Hair that was short and dark, with bangs so long they had to be constantly tucked behind her ears to keep them out of her eyes.

The sight of her made my heart speed in my chest. I couldn't help but want her. A woman that looked the way she did had to know what men thought about when they looked at her. A woman like that would should have given me a hard on like you wouldn't believe.

Why was I crying? Because, the woman I was watching wasn't in front of me at all. I was looking at a mirror. The woman was me.

The erection I should be having? The thought made me cry even harder. My cock was collared and wouldn't get erect even if I stopped taking the pills that bastard Phil was feeding me daily.

Phil, the bastard, he had caught me with his wife and sought revenge. Instead of punching me out like a real man, he had somehow got inside my head and made me do things - things that transformed me into the feminine creature I now was. Then he offered me a deal.

Be his wife for a year. A year and then I was free.

I agreed. What choice did I have?

And tonight? Tonight was our wedding night and I was the blushing bride. Phil decided to save money, so he cut out the whole wedding ceremony. (Not that I minded in the least.)

We went straight to Vegas for the honeymoon. Oh yeah, and I was the blushing bride. And why was I blushing?

I was the bride sans dress.

"They cost too much and it ain't like you can wear it again," Phil had said.

He was impossible to argue with. His powers over me were like a God. "Yes, daddy," I replied.

I looked back in the mirror. Shit, my bangs had fallen in my face again. I hated them. I hated looking so cute.

I tucked the stray hair behind my ear and then I tried to smooth down my nipples. I didn't want Phil thinking I was turned on. I wasn't. I was only scared, and though Vegas was hot, the room was cold.

There was a knock on the door that made me start. Thankfully, it wasn't on the bathroom door. It would probably be room service. Anyway, Phil was in the room, I hoped he would get it instead of embarrassing me further.

My hands were shaking and time was running out. I tried to think of someway to get out of my situation, but it was useless. He had me. And tonight, tonight I had a feeling Phil would want more than the blowjobs I had been giving him since he took me from the clinic.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. My heart pounded and wouldn't stop.

"Just a minute more Daddy," I said, voice trembling. "I'm not quite finished."

"It's time Chrissie," he said. "Get your hot little ass out here."

He could get inside my head and make me open the door if he wanted. I wouldn't let that happen again if I could help it; the sadistic bastard always punished me when he did. Rather, he made me do the punishing. If I was going to do it, I was going to do it walking like a man . . . in heels that is.

"Yes, daddy," I said meekly as I exited. I gasped when I saw the bellboy standing there, eyes gaping, staring at my chest.

Breasts. . . my breasts! I kept forgetting. My hands flew up to cover my nakedness.

Phil took my wrist and easily forced my hand down. "Don't you start being modest now, you were the one who wanted to get married in your undies," he laughed.

The liar! He was the one who had sent me into the bathroom with nothing but panties, stockings, garters, and heels.

He shrugged his shoulders at the bellhop. "Women. . ." he said conspiratorially. "Come on, let's do it on the balcony."

Phil slid open the glass door and led me out onto the balcony. My heart was racing. I felt like I was out of breath. What did he want to do on the balcony? Why was the bellhop there?

Out on the balcony, Phil pulled me close and whispered. "You better smile and act the part or you're gonna find yourself giving blowjobs to every salesmen at the bar."

It would be preferable to blowing you, asshole. But, I dared not utter those words. If he wanted, not only would I blow them, I would blow him as well, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. "Yes, daddy," I said, and shivered from the night air or perhaps his chilling words. I hated calling him that, but that was one of the few rules he had given me. Rules I had learned to obey by painful example.

"Okay, let's do this," he said to the bellboy, handing him a piece of paper, a camera, and two twenties.

The bellboy pocketed the cash and looked at the paper. "Do you Chrissie take Phil Barnes as your husband, to love honor and obey?"

The bellboy looked at me with a smirk. He was staring at my breasts. I was a size 32A. Not the size to inspire awe, only enough to be rewarded with a knowing smirk. Phil grinned a shit-eaten grin, leering at me, surely knowing what must be going through my mind.

"I do," I replied meekly.

"And do you Phil, promise to ahh . . ." The bellboy looked down at the paper and narrowed his eyes, just to be sure he was reading it properly. "To ah- *take* Chrissie?"

Phil chuckled. The bastard. "You bet."

"You may now kiss the bride."

Phil grabbed me and kissed me deeply before I even knew what was going on. I didn't even have time to think about it as I kissed a man for the first time. He put his hand down my panties and groped my ass.

I saw the flash of the camera from my closed eyelids. Phil pulled away.

"Lock the door behind you," he told the bellboy. "And leave the camera on the dresser."

I heard the glass doors slide shut. My knees were weak. I wasn't ready for this. I don't think I would ever be ready. "Please Phil. Please don't make me do this."

He spun me around and pushed me against the balcony. I looked down seven stories and the world began to spin. I was afraid of heights.

"What did you call me?" he hissed, pushing my torso over the balcony. Shit I had called him Phil. I had broken a rule.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry Daddy." I begged. "Oh God, please Daddy, don't hurt me, I'm scared."

"Wedding jitters, huh? Well, just be a good girl and there's nothing to be afraid of." He pushed my legs apart. I felt a finger sneak into my panties and prod my hole. There was nothing I could do. With the ground three stories below and Phil behind me, I was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. Owww! Jesus the friction from his callused finger burned like mad.

"Ouch." I tried to pull away, but couldn't.

"Does it hurt?" He kept poking.

"Yes."

"Then be a good little wifie and say, please Sweetie, be gentle with my cherry."

His finger was like sandpaper and he knew it. He was trying to humiliate me. A few people by the pool were now openly staring at me. Luckily, only my head was visible.

"Please Sweetie, please be gentle with my cherry," I whispered.

"I didn't hear you." He pushed his finger in and twisted.

"Ouch!" I winced, my pride rapidly dwindling. "Please Sweetie, be gentle with my cherry." I shuddered, knowing the people below must have heard me.

"That's real good. Uh-huh, and it looks like you are starting to attract a crowd." He tapped my arsehole again. Not hurting it, just letting me know he could if he wanted to. "What was this again?"

"My cherry." I said it loudly enough to be overheard again.

Thankfully, the finger was removed, but it soon returned. This time it was cold and slick. It slipped past my tight defenses, and pressed inside me.

"There," Phil said, moving his finger in and out, fucking me with it. "That's not so bad is it?"

"Please Phil," I whispered. "Don't make me do this. I'm not gay."

"Of course not," he said, causing my heart to leap with new hope, only to dash it away. "You're a married woman. It's okay for us to fuck now."

"But - ugh-" I grunted as his finger burrowed in me to the knuckle. "I don't want to."

"God, you're tight," Phil said, as he removed his finger. "I can't wait to feel you around my fucking cock." His hands grasped my hips and I felt the head of his cock nestled between the cheeks of my bottom. Involuntarily clenching my arse, I moved closer to the railing.

"Please. . . ," I begged. "Please don't."

"Kinky slut," he said, prodding me with his dick, pushing me forward even more. "Gonna give them all a show huh?"

Several people pointed at me and I realized my breasts were uncovered. I tried to cover them with my hands, but that gave me no leverage to keep from being pushed further toward the rail. I could feel his dick penetrating me and there was nothing I could do about it. I could barely stand and the high heel shoes I was wearing didn't help a bit.

I hated this part of my transformation the most- being so weak. "Please Phil, I'm going to fall," I whined. Tears welled in my eyes.

"Then grab the fucking rail."

"But my breasts . . ."

"Those aren't breasts, just little bee-stings. Somebody tell me why did it have to be page fifty- eight?"

My face flushed with embarrassment. I hated my breasts too. As strange as it sounds, I wanted them bigger. Phil's one big rule was to never let anyone discover I was a man or I'd find myself working as a whore, strung out on drugs. I could forget about the year's service, it would be that way for *life*. Anyway, small breasts attract the wrong sort of attention when you are someone like me.

"Maybe you should ask me to cover them for you," Phil whispered.

At last a good idea and while he went to get a top for me or at least a bra, I could get off the balcony and collect my thoughts, maybe even persuade him not to do this.

"Please Sweetie," I gasped. "Would you get me something to cover my breasts with?"

His hands moved from my hips, along my sides, and grabbed my wrists. I struggled briefly as he sought to pull my hands away from my breasts, but he was stronger. Down below, everyone stared at my lewd display. Phil placed my hands on the rail and used his on to cover my breasts. Not quite what I had in mind, but at least I was covered.

"Here it comes baby," he said, and pushed his hips forward.

Christ, his penis hurt! It opened me, it kept penetrated me and there was nothing I could do about it. I grimaced in pain, giving a long and drawn out, "Owww fuck. . ." The people watched below. To them I was a girl being fucked - a virgin being taken on her honeymoon. But inside, I was a heterosexual male; my body feminized and chastised, taken from behind by another man. Ugh- Oh God, a large man. A large sadistic black man.

"Just relax and go with it," he whispered thickly in my ear. But it was impossible. With something that big invading your ass, the body's reaction is to clench. I couldn't overcome it and each time I clenched, it hurt even more.

But he never stopped. Monster! In fact, he lurched faster and faster. His fingers played with my nipples, tugging and tweaking the hardened nubs. They hurt and my ass burned with pain.

"Play with your clit," he said. "It will help."

At that point, I would do anything to lessen the pain, even play with myself for this bastard. I reached my hand down and attempted to tug on my collared cock.

"Ouch!" I cried, as he viciously tweaked my nipples.

"Girls don't tug," he said. "Girls finger. Up and down and around and around in little circles."

Evil bastard. He got off on robbing me of every last strip of my masculinity. But, hell I gave up, I starting stroking myself. Anything to take my mind off the pain. I followed orders and did my best to imitate what I remembered from watching women pleasure themselves. While I couldn't get an erection, I found that I could still feel pleasure and soon the pleasure grew, emanating from my groin and moving to my newly acquired sensitive nipples and even to my ass. I tried my best to resist, but my body betrayed me by pushing back against him, gasping and grunting as he took me. The bell attached to the ring on my cock jingled faster and faster.

There I was on the balcony of a large hotel in Vegas in broad daylight, moaning and groaning while a large black man was taking my ass while clutching my breasts. To anyone looking, I was a thin blonde girl, clearly enjoying what was happening to her on her wedding night. Not just enjoying it, but getting ready to orgasm. Little did they know how much I desired *not* to orgasm. Not like this. And certainly not for *him*.

Oh, but no matter what I desired, my body had other ideas. It wanted it. It needed it.

"I feel you getting tighter baby girl," he laughed. "You're loving this, aren't you?"

"No," I grunted. But, the truth was, it did feel good in some sick way.

"You're lying," he said, grabbing my hand, pulling it away from my collared cock, and forcing it back to the handrail. "But anyway, let's talk about something for a minute."

God, there I was, penetrated from the rear, nearly naked and on display to the people watching from the pool. How could he want to talk at a time like this? My cheeks burned with humiliation. "Please," I begged.

"You want some more of this, don't you?" he asked.

"Yes," I admitted, with tears flowing from my eyes. I didn't want to be fucked; I only wanted to go back inside. I only wanted my life back.

"You're doing a pretty good job of keeping up with your marriage vows so far," he said. "At least the obey part. But what about the honor part? Huh?"

"I don't know." I just wanted back in to the bedroom. "What do you want me to do?"

"You're trying to obey again. To honor, you have to think for yourself. Now, I'm gonna finish fucking your tight little puss, but if you want to cum to, you need to think of a way to honor me."

And he started fucking me again and as much as I wanted to just let him finish using me, deep inside, I knew I needed to cum too. It had been weeks and by now I was desperate. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but I could feel his cock grow longer and harder. Oh, that black bastard, he was going to cum regardless. My resistance and pride crumbled.

"Daddy," I grunted, whispering as he fucked me. "I do honor you. Please let me cum."

"So you are proud of me? Of your marriage? Of getting your cherry busted? You don't act proud to me. Stuck up bitch. You act ashamed."

I was ashamed. Deeply ashamed. I wasn't a girl, but a guy. I wasn't supposed to be the one getting fucked. I looked down at the people below. They were still staring, wondering what was going on up here, wondering who was fucking me, wondering what kind of girl would let someone do this to her. My cheeks and ears burned with the fire of humiliation. I couldn't bear to do it, but I did it anyway. I honored him the only way I knew how.

"Oh yes, Daddy," I cried. "That's it. Pop my cherry. Make me your wife." I was dirt. No, I was lower than dirt. I was an earthworm that lived beneath a pig's sty.

"That's it bitch, honor me," he said. "Go ahead and ugh - ugh -play with your clit, but you better hurry. I'm ah- ready to cum. Fuck if I ain't ready."

He didn't have to tell me twice. My hand flew down. It was a blur as I fingered my cock through my panties, making quick circles.

His hands left my breasts and grabbed my hips, as he pounded into me. I wanted to cover them from the leering gaze of the onlookers below, at least my tender nips, but all I could do was hold on tight to the rail and absorb the force of his body colliding with my own. The sound of our bodies slapping together was so loud that it drowned out the ringing bell that was mounted to my collared cock. There was no way the people staring didn't know what was happening. Suddenly, I felt a wrenching surge of pleasure and the pressure in my cock grew as I struggled to cum against the ring that bound me. My cock glowed with pleasure. I came but not like I used to. Instead of my passion peeking in spurts, it just sort of flowed from me. I cried out as my ass spasmed. Cried so loud that the people down at the pool started pointing, mothers hustled their children back inside, hand over their young eyes. But at the moment I didn't care. I had experienced release - glorious sweet release. I felt the cock in my ass swell and then, he must have cum too because it was sliding quite easily now. He thrust hard several more times and then he finally slowed.

"Ah . . ." Phil sighed, letting go of my hips. I slid down to my knees on the concrete floor of the balcony.

"Shit, you a good lay," Phil said, as he grabbed my nose and pulled me face first toward his filthy cock. What the fuck was he doing? Surely he didn't expect. . . Oh God no!

He continued pulling my nose, relentlessly moving me closer to his cock. A cock made dirty by my ass and his congealing filthy juice.

"Stop," I said through clenched teeth. "You're dirty."

"Think of it as a reminder to keep your self clean for me," he said dryly. "Now do it, or you'll be down at the bar hustling your ass to convention goers."

"Plea-mmphh" I tried to beg, but he ignored me, thrusting into my mouth. It was horrible. I wanted to wretch, but I somehow managed to finish.

"Good girl," he smiled down at me and tussled my hair. "Why don't you make yourself pretty for me? Be sure to use some mouthwash, and then maybe we can go down and do some gambling."

At that point, anything would be better than what had just happened to me. I gladly went downstairs to the casino with him. I never got to gamble. Just blow on his dice. In three days, he took me countless times, in more ways than I could have imagined.

And that is the story of how I spent my honeymoon with my enemy, my kidnapper, the black bastard who was now . . . my husband.

To be continued. . .

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