Young Master Ch. 05

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"My my...I must say I'm impressed. I half expected you would outlast, Dirk. After all, the shock carried you through the ordeal more than anything, and Dirk's approach has always been, shall we say, direct? But to best Darius? That I did not expect. I'll have to reconsider my opinion of you...slightly. For that, you deserve a small boon. You are the only one in this room that isn't 100% certain that you will beg to be our slave. And I suspect that deep down you know you will too. So, I could walk over there and work my wonders, but that would be too easy. You've earned something a little more...poetic. So I will allow Isabella to take my turn. Isabella, you have five minutes to make her beg. If you don't...ah but why dwell on such an ugly thought?"

My jaw dropped as Isabella slowly crawled towards me, her eyes growing hungrier as she slowly sauntered over...but there was something else in them too, something I wanted to believe was regret. But when she smiled and ran her tongue slowly across her sensuous smirk, it was hard to imagine she felt anything but pride in what she'd done to me. I steeled my defenses, ready for any of her usual tricks. I figured she'd boss me around, fuck me silly, maybe feed me all of the cum pooling in my asshole baby bird style. Whatever she did, it would all be a part of the same sick game she had played from day one. Seduce and destroy...I was wise to it, and I wasn't going to let her push me around anymore...no matter how much I craved it. All I had to do was last five minutes...

What I didn't expect...what I wasn't prepared for...what I had no defense for...was for her to wrap her smirking lips around my earlobe, whispering, "I'm so sorry, Belle. But I had no choice...I still don't. And neither do you...at least this way, we can be together..." her voice was low, and ragged, full of a hurt I had never heard from her before. It wasn't until I heard the fear in her voice, the profound hopelessness, that I realized how pointless it was to try to resist. Sure, I could last long enough to ensure that Isabella suffered for my stubbornness, but surprisingly, the thought of that only made me feel guilty. And if I could, which I wasn't so sure of, what would be the point? After they finished their little game, they wouldn't just let me go. They had the rest of my life to make me sign whatever they wanted to. I had already lost whatever game they wanted to play the moment they made the rules. Four minutes were only a formality...

I took her head in my hands, my lips tingling against hers, tears streaming down my cheeks, I begged, "Please, just give me a little longer...please pretend with me, for just a minute..." She didn't say a word, but I saw something soften in those hungry eyes of hers, and felt her hands pulling me into a kiss. Our mouths wrestled as if they were trying to swallow one another, our tongues wrapped around one another, sliding and twisting as if trying to get a good grip. She drank down my sobs and fed me moans with her slick little tongue. We fell to the floor, every limb frantically wrapping around each other as out sweat slick bodies slid against each other. We desperately clung to one another, trying to hold onto the lie for just one more second, to pretend there was still love somewhere underneath all the hurt and betrayal...to pretend it was there to begin with...but our time was running out...only three minutes to go...

I knew she didn't really love me. I knew this was just another chore for her, a way to stay in her Master's good graces. I knew that once I was down in the basement, I would be just another annoying sissy she had to keep in line. But that was okay, because the truth didn't matter in her arms. All that mattered was that I could believe in the lie just a little longer. This was the only thing I could do for her, the only way I could ever help her. And as long as I could pretend she loved me as much as I wanted to love her, it was worth any price. I pulled my mouth off hers reluctantly, crying out, "Please, let me sign!" I was pretty sure I still had two minutes, but I didn't want to risk cutting it too close.

"See boys? Never send a man to do a sissy's job. Give Belle the papers. I'll get the branding iron ready." He made his way over to one of the red velvet curtains and pulled an iron out of a brick oven cut into the wall. It glowed white and it lit his cowled face with a Hellish light. I couldn't take my eyes off it, even as Isabella handed me the papers, stroking my hair as I laid my head in her lap, signing every page she told me to. I moaned a sigh of relief as I heard the click of my cage freeing my sore sissy clit. I stroked it feverishly, hoping for a little escape even as the walls were closing in on me. My new Masters stood over me, their arrogant pricks turning their noses up at me as they delighted in my despair. Master Darren walked behind me firmly ordering, "Up on all fours, Belle. I want to make this a memorable occasion for you."

I doubted I would ever be able to forget it, no matter how hard I tried, and I buried my face in Isabella's bosom, not wanting them to see my cowardly sobbing. I was in agony imagining how much it would hurt, but instead of the hot hiss of the iron, I felt a much more welcome heat sliding in my well prepared hole. Despite Dirk's earlier abuse, I was at least well lubed with two loads of cum, and with my pathetic clit free to throb and leak all over the hard wood floors, all I cared about was feeling him hit my sweet spot as hard as he could. I flashed back to my room that first day with Isabella...watching him force his cock into her eager hole, not being able to imagine what it would feel like to be her. It turned out my imagination was woefully lacking. His experienced thrusts made Darius seem like an amateur, and his inexhaustible passion made Dirk look like a two-pump-chump. I had already given up everything I ever had or ever would have, so pretending I wasn't in love with his cock seemed like a moot point. "Yeeeeeeeeeesssss! Fuck me! Please! Fuck me harder! I'm so close...I'm so...EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

The hours of torture and teasing, the terror and torment, the hopelessness and heartbreak...all of it left me in hot sticky squirts, my body finally getting the release it had been begging for. Mindless, animal, pure, perfect pleasure...I almost felt sorry for them...they would never know such wonder, never feel every goosebump on their smooth skin become a throbbing clit, never cum so hard they went to that place no one could touch them...and stay there as long as a hard cock sawed in and out of them, breaking down the gates of Heaven with relentless pounding so I could sneak in. The voice of God spoke to me, sounding surprisingly like my new Master, "That's a good gurl. You're going to be so beautiful when the surgeons finish with you. You've had a fine head start, but wait until we give you the body to match your slutty soul. You'll see, you'll learn to love being a slave. Your kind always does..."

Who was I to argue with God? Especially while he was fucking me? I looked up and saw an angel smiling down on me and I knew I'd made the right decision. I was in Heaven...and then I felt the brand. At first I thought they made a mistake. It was ice cold...how was it supposed to burn their mark into my flesh? It seared my nerves on contact, making the initial heat too powerful to process, but luckily, there was so much more pain that followed, so I wouldn't be confused. I was cast into Hell, paying for the only sin in my step-father's eyes...weakness. I was damned, screaming up into the face of a succubus as she looked down at me with hollow eyes. Then again, maybe there was something in them, I hoped I was wrong, that it was just the pain blurring my vision...making everything go fuzzy and dark until I fell into a void even darker and more desolate than in my nightmare...

I was disappearing...being murdered, the last of my manhood and will burned alive and screaming. Byron was dying, and what little mind I had left was telling me that whenever I opened my eyes next, it would be as Belle. I would no longer be the Young Master...

I would be the Young Sissy...

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FranziskaSissyFranziskaSissyover 1 year ago

Most sissy would like to share or take Belle's place and so the intense inquisition, the horrible breaking in the perverted abuse or rape, was more a sissy's need or? ...... So now being officially a sissy slave, life will become much more easier, wearing beautiful femme dresses, getting Master's attention and being a cumdumpster, so dream fullfilled or destiny is matching in + out

💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝🍀

AnonymousAnonymousover 1 year ago

You manage to impart such deep feelings and emotions that it becomes fairly obvious and how the line between pleasure and pain can become so easily blurred. My hope is that the process that is used to break the sissy is shown/described and is accompanied by a very special in depth explanation of things like how this works and why it is used instead of some other way. The main point is that I become weary of some of the same old “person gets an injection and wakes up after some undetermined amount of time and the process is complete and/or the person is now completely changed”. No matter how things go from here forward, this has been a thoroughly enjoyable experience and you have shown you are a brilliant author who appears to have the ability to change things up and impressively think on the fly which is one of the many reasons that your stories are going to be worth the time investment required to get the most out of your work.

AnonymousAnonymousover 11 years ago
Excellent writing and excellent storyline!

I so hope it continues...

AnonymousAnonymousover 11 years ago
Belle is a sister in suffering to Justine of Marquis de Sade

now I guess that Belle will spiral to hell, you are going an impressive route, your characters are complex enough to not know what is going to happen afterwards.

allthough I must admit I wouldn't mind (actually would be jumping and cheering for Belle) if the Darius family got killed in a plane crash or got infected from a mysterious Ebola strain or...

then again, this is hope speaking, from which Belle must have none left.

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