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Mistress Maggie

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My Dear Reader,

Welcome to a most unorthodox love story. A story containing romance, transgenderism, spirituality and yes, even S&M.

But first allow me to ask you a question, and when you reach the end of this story, it will make much more sense to you. If your soul returned in the body of someone else after you died. And you were allowed to whisper one thing, one sentence, to your previous lover to convince them that it was really you talking to them at that moment... what would you say?

Many thanks to Dreamweaver594 for his help with this.

Cheers!

Josie

*****

"C'mon ya little faggot!" He sneered as if pulled from central casting for a 1940 serial's evil villain role, "you sissies just love your bling... so where... the hell... IS IT!"

I was collapsed on the floor next to the bed, curled up in a fetal position, quite incapable of saying anything after having just had a fist slammed into my stomach. My main effort was now to get air back into my lungs. A thief, surprised to find me walking out of the bathroom in my hotel room, had recovered enough from his shock to drop me with a single punch.

Dressed in the female attire that my Mistress had laid out for me, I was far more surprised by his intrusion than he could have ever been by my unexpected presence in a room he thought to be empty, and therefore a good place to hide. In fact, I'd just finished dressing, sliding on the black patent open-toed 4-inch high heels, and buckling each of their two little ankle straps firmly onto my feet. Twisting the little screws of the silver hoop earrings tightly onto each ear. Slipping the 3 silver bangles and pinky ring onto my wrists and finger now made up the sum total of my available jewelry. Of course, I used a few spritz' of perfume to add to my feminine persona, which then only left my black kidskin leather collar. The catch here, literally, was that I had no key, and once I snapped the catch shut, only my Mistress could remove it. But I'd come to the realization that such things weren't my decision anymore, my Mistress specifically said it must be worn, and that... as they say... was that.

I knew that my Mistress wanted me ready by eleven sharp, and being ready on time was never optional. Trying to check the time made me realize that my left wrist was bare, and I'd left the watch my Mistress picked out for me on the counter in the bathroom. I started to turn towards the bathroom to fetch the dainty TAG Heuer ladies wristwatch when I stopped to glance once more into the mirror. My clothing made me appear as a well-dressed woman, but I had yet to apply my make-up, and this exposed me as a male cross-dresser to the thief, who had somehow entered the room silently, and was watching from the shadows of the entry hall, near the door. Although surprised by my presence in a room he believed to be empty, he recovered quickly.

As I exited the bathroom focused on the tiny clasp of the watchband, the thief saw his chance, and since he now knew I was male, hit me just as hard as he could. His sucker punch dispelling all the air from my lungs, and preventing me from calling out for help while he ransacked my room. But once the thief finished tearing my room apart and screaming all of his insults, it was pretty obvious that there just wasn't any more 'bling' to be had here.

Just then, both of us heard a keycard being slid into the door's locking mechanism. The thief froze for a split second, but he'd already thought of this. He was dressed in the uniform of a bellboy, the same type used in this hotel. Now he grabbed the bag of loot from the floor that he'd pilfered so far, along with a few towels, to cover any story he needed to make on his way out.

Suddenly there appeared the most gorgeous creature this sneering thief had ever laid eyes on. Striding in on black patent leather, metal-toed, 6-inch stiletto heeled pumps, with black fishnet stockings, all else being hidden by a calf-length leather coat. Guessing at a height of 5-feet 10-inches tall, those heels made everything about her a best guess on his part. Her weight could not have been more than 160 pounds of leather-clad minx. Endlessly curly platinum hair tumbled beautifully past her shoulders, while her eyes were covered by narrow, blacked out, Foster Grants. She carried a large canvas bag that seemed bizarrely out of place in such a high-end hotel room, but she dropped it on the floor almost as soon as she'd passed the doorway.

She looked first at the one on the floor, then the other in the uniform, as she pursed her deliciously defined, deep red lips and placed her kidskin-gloved hands on top of her hips. By now, her Ransom perfume was just barely wafting past their noses, taking them aback even more. While behind the FGs, her sapphire blues were giving off flashes of lightning, something was not right here, and she'd felt it immediately.

"Visitors?" she asked, with one very well coifed eyebrow arching high above the other.

The thief was still mesmerized by this vision, but I had regained my breathing.

"M-Mistress... a th-thief... look out!" I exclaimed, although what I would have possibly expected her to do was beyond me at that point, all I knew was I had to do something!

My cries had awoken the thief from his reverie, cocking his head, once he understood the word.

"Mistress," he said, again sneering while holding the 'S' sound for a while.

"Mistress Magdalyn," she announced, "Glad to meet you... my friends call me Maggie!"

"Ha!" the thief laughed, "do they now, bitch!"

She stepped towards him, offering her hand, and even though he rolled his eyes, the thief smiled back cruelly while taking her hand with his. He had every intention of grabbing her wrists, throwing her on the bed, assaulting her, and probably more... a lot more. But he didn't know Maggie as I'd begun to know her, for as their hands touched, the thief was brought to his knees in an agonizing scream of pain. She used her other hand to take off her sunglasses, flinging them onto the bed, and opened the front of her coat in order to grab something in one of its inside panels, but leaving her hand inside, she now held whatever it was out of sight, yet readied.

The thumb and forefinger of her right hand had grasped the thief's right hand in about the middle of his palm, between the 3rd and 4th fingers at the knuckles, with the rest of her fingers gracefully raised as if making no greater effort than drinking from a teacup! Apparently, she had him in some sort of nerve-pinch, and based upon the horrible screams and grimaces he was making, it must have been very painful.

As I watched this all unfold, I saw a terrible fury in this woman's eyes, and yet she remained in full control of the situation. Her emotion flowed from a powerful and all-inclusive source. Something massive existed in her soul that was now screaming into our hapless thief's ears.

"...and all I need to know my little one," she was shouting, "is did this... thing... hurt you?"

As she glanced over at me, I had genuine fear for the now sniveling thief that had struck me... he also shot a pleading glance in my direction. I only wanted this to be over with, as I had no idea what she might do if I told her the truth... or what if the thief managed to get loose?! So...

"I-I j-just f-fell Mistress," I replied, "h-he... he never hurt me!"

Once again, one of those perfectly styled eyebrows arched high onto her elegant forehead. She gave me a wry smile, then returned her attention to the pathetic form on its knees in front of her. After she released his hand, he soothed it with his other, to make it feel better. Then, just as she glanced away, he twisted 'round to grab something from the waistband of his cummerbund.

But sadly for our thief, she had foreseen this move as well, and it was a surprisingly short kick from the metal-tipped toe of her stiletto to where his cock and balls appeared to reside. The switchblade knife he had been trying for clattered onto the floor between them as he now needed both hands to hold his privates in a useless effort to make anything feel better.

"Now weasel," she hissed at him, "get out of here before I get angry!"

Groaning loudly, the thief suddenly vomited next to the door. He then managed to get one hand away from his privates and grasp the door handle. Eventually getting the door open, he pushed his way into the hall, stumbling down to the main elevator area.

Maggie came over and helped me up, and onto the bed, all while giving me an eyeful of what had been hidden by her coat... a black fishnet catsuit, along with leather bra and panties! Her body was simply goddess material, easily carrying her 38-28-36 frame on feline legs balancing her 38DD chest over tight, yet beautifully curved hips that allowed her body to produce a rolling symphony with each step she took. Simply put, no man could walk that way! Watching me carefully, to see if I was all right, she spoke in a low, Kathleen Turner tone of voice...

"Looks as if I owe you an apology little one," she said, "This used to be a pretty posh hotel."

"You couldn't have known this would happen, my Mistress." I said in my feminine voice.

Suddenly the ice-cold demeanor melted, overtaken by a look of boiling-hot, starving passion, located deep within the core of those crystal blue orbs. Then something distracted her... only for the merest fraction of a second... and it was gone. Oh God! How I wanted that look back!

Instead she got up and began pacing the floor, snatching the switchblade off the carpet and putting it into one of the inside compartments of her greatcoat. Then, suddenly producing her cell phone, she began calling someone.

"Hi Janie," she said, "I need to find a name from my old rolodex... yeah, that one... I'm looking for a Paul Fletcherd... I think that was it. Might be under Hilton."

As I looked upon this pacing wildcat moving back and forth in front of me... nothing, and I mean nothing, had prepared me for what I'd become involved with. I had managed to learn some things about her, yes... but only enough to move to another level, as if she were playing a multi-dimensional chess game with real life. And I was always at least three moves behind her.

"Mmhm," she continued her call with Janie, "as in hotels, right... no... Yes! Yeah, he's the one, go ahead... ok, Jane... Thanks!"

"Just gotta get this done sweetie," she said, looking over at me with a single forefinger raised to her lips, "then we can play."

***

Perhaps this is as good a time as any, to back away from what was occurring in this particular hotel room, on this fateful day, and give you some idea of how all of this transpired. It's an involved story, I'll try to go slowly...

Allow me to introduce myself. My name's Thomas Huntsley, and other than having an inspired game of Call Of Duty from time to time, I had a typically boring middle class existence. I realized I was a 'nerd' at an early age, and fell in with other nerds that only lived to find the next big cheat for their games, all the while doing the other things necessary to exist, like school. I found I was good at computers and tinkering with their guts became another obsession. Now at some point puberty hit... bigtime. Suddenly, apparently far too late, I'd discovered girls in time to realize that my body had little if anything to offer the 'fairer' sex. But with a divorced Dad living across the other side of the world, and 4 (yeah four) older sisters, I discovered another side of myself that I also became obsessed with.

With that many sisters, and a body that never quite developed the male characteristics I truly desired, I ended up identical in height, weight and most clothing sizes to my two youngest sisters. In fact, looking at the 3 of us wandering around the third floor of our house, you could be excused for thinking a set of triplets inhabited that floor. I'd always kept my dirty blond hair long just to be different, and yet fit in with my fellow musicians that kept long hair to seem creative.

Anyway, things all started quite innocently... no... no, that's not true, actually I was as horny as any teenaged kid in existence and began peeping under doors, and through locks, while my sisters were getting dressed in their lingerie before going out on dates. And as they grew older, the various pieces became more alluring, softer and what makes me hard to this day, just plain sexy! So I became a collector, at least this is how I rationalized it to myself. Being a very upper middle class family, the girls, my sisters, had more than enough inventory to collect. I started with the odd panty I would find in our bathroom, and quickly realized I'd stumbled upon several addicting substances... satin, silk, nylon, lycra, spandex and not least of all, latex.

Using those to wack-off into at first, it didn't take long to start wearing them, which could trigger instant nipple erections, to match the penile type I'd already discovered. Soon, like any addict, I wanted more and I wanted it all. A Halloween party gave me the guts to ask my sisters for help dressing as a woman and for help teaching me make-up. While this raised suspicions, I knew they'd searched my room far too many times for their missing stuff, and a very well concealed compartment in the very back of my closet had been keeping my secret for years now. At least... from their eyes.

At this point, I really knew I wasn't like other boys. Beyond dressing up, I never 'fit' with any of the other guys at school and what interested them. I seemed very shy, but it was mostly because I didn't have much in common with them. I'd grown up with more than enough girl's toys lying around, I never needed to steal away and sneak into my sister's rooms to play with their dolls and other toys, besides they were all fine with it anyway. Being the only boy, let me get away with anything during inter-sibling rivalries. All my sisters knew that as the only male, I was 'favored' by my parents and they fought amongst themselves to get on my good side. They would make sure I had any doll or girl's toy they owned, if it got me on their side in a major family argument.

The second oldest sister Elizabeth, was like my bodyguard for years. As the other girls brought their friends over to play, we would inevitably get into dress-up games and tea parties, where I would be used as a human doll, and dressed in any and every way they could think of. They thought it was loads of fun, and as strange as it sounds, so did I! Well, at least until it got out of control, which it could on occasion, where one of my sisters would want to please their guests and basically gave them a free hand to do anything they wanted, including making me naked. When things would go that crazy, I could always count on Beth appearing at the door, and in her lowest voice, tell them to clean me up, and make sure my male clothes were back on.

When my mother became aware of some of this, she worked extra hard to make sure I always got the most male-leaning toys she could find, also warning the girls there would be very bad consequences for anyone encouraging my playing with 'female' toys. My sisters were split on this, where my oldest and youngest sisters felt I should be able to be myself and play with any toy I wanted, and the other two felt that my behavior was embarrassing. Even so, they all still felt sympathy for my obvious desire to play with what society considered 'girls' toys.

When we had all passed puberty, things changed in that clothes became private property where toys had always been more common ground. The clothes I collected were pretty minor, in terms of quantity, next to the major thefts that went on between the girls themselves. After a while, it became really hard to collect anything, but this was more because of what my other sisters were stealing from each other, not what I 'collected'! There was even a point where my T-shirts were being stolen on a daily basis because they were simply the most popular piece of clothing at school! But no matter how much I enjoyed the dressing as a female, even dreaming of magically changing my gender, I never could bring myself to think in terms of sexual orientation.

I truly loved girls, all my masturbation fantasies were based on female partners. When I'd been on a hayride with a girl, at a school dance with a girl, even managed to get a date with a girl to the prom, we'd made out like crazy. If you asked them today, they'd be shocked how I turned out and probably would NOT believe you if you were to tell them any of my current behavior. I never saw myself with another man, or as 'gay'... or anything approaching that. But there was one particular situation that produced what I called 'the feeling'. It only affected me when I was dressed as a woman. It was then, that if I saw a man that looked sexy, I would begin to feel that I actually WAS female... that I was a girl in a boy's body and that maybe... I could be sexually attracted to a male... I just didn't know enough about that, and didn't know what my options were even if that were true, all I really knew was that 'the feeling' made me absolutely sure of only one thing. That I couldn't possibly be a male, and it frightened me more than anything... would anyone accept me if I decided to change my sexual gender?

A few times, while fully 'dressed', my fantasies drifted into this uncharted territory, I allowed myself to be a woman, with a man... and make love to that man, as a woman. It was a line I refused to cross in real life, so many things could go so very wrong... therefore... I simply continued to collect my sister's clothes. Eventually, with enough patience, I had collected enough of my sister's clothing that I could have had any beginning teenage starlet jealous. I became the 'family secret', no one spoke about it, but everyone knew, and I was forced into my closet where I might pretend to be a girl... but nothing more.

Then one very cold spring day I met a friend in my senior class at lunch, and he told me that several local IT companies were holding interviews in our cafeteria that next week. I ran up to one of the guidance counselors asking how I could get involved with this and what it was all about. He put me on the list, surprised that I wasn't already, and explained that this interview process was about several positions that these companies were creating for summer interns.

Excited by this huge opportunity, I ran home, scouring the internet for any and all information about the five companies participating in the summer internship program. All of the companies were in the Philadelphia area, so I could find transportation to any of them. Next, I looked for interesting projects that they were working on, writing notes furiously about each one until...

I saw... her... even on a very standard, boring, corporate web page, she leapt from the HTML into my psyche. Startlingly sexy sapphire eyes followed me right off of my PC screen. Platinum curls flowing around her face framed it directly into my mind's eye. I tried to move on, clicking to the next screen several times... something deep within those powerful eyes scared the crap out of me, yet made me foolishly curious as well, within seconds my hardening cock forced me to return and stare at her... I was bewitched. Triad Systems Corp., Development Director, Systems Analysis Group, Magdalyn O'Shea. I knew which company I'd be interviewing with, I threw all the pages of notes I'd written on the other companies in the trash.

Suddenly, as I was sitting at my desk and continuing to stare at Ms. O'Shea, a cold chill hit me, my vision was squeezed down to what you might see through a fish-eye lens of a camera. That lasted for a few seconds, until I had the feeling of being hit by something massive and losing consciousness for several minutes. My youngest sister Patricia came in to see if I was alright after hearing what she described as a 'sonic boom' and everything rattling around on the shelves for a while. By the time she came in, I was recovering and thought it must have been a low-flying jet or something, and I must have bumped my head as a result. We were pretty freaked out by such an occurrence... we never got earthquakes so it was all very strange.

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