My Sissy Slave

By Lilith Goode

What started as a game was rapidly becoming so much more. Chris had agreed to be Jamal’s slave on a whim during a night of heavy partying, but now he was starting to wonder if it really was a game or his real life. But what he was really wondering was whether the feelings he was developing for the handsome black man was lust, or love. Which was a big problem because neither of them were gay.
What’s a poor white boy to do when he’s confronted with the growing realization that the way he’d always viewed himself sexually is wrong? Worse, how does he break the news to his mom?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lilith Goode
• Release date: Jun 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005290757

Lilith Goode

I was born in Fort Lauderdale, Florida back before it became a parking lot running from Miami to Palm Beach. In an attempt to escape my five and a half million neighbors, cockroaches, and hurricanes, I moved to Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan, which lies on the Canadian border in Michigan's upper peninsula, in the mistaken belief that anyplace located on a large body of water would have a lot of seafood restaurants. Not being much of a sports person, I missed the somewhat obvious correlation that in order to have seafood restaurants, the body of water has to be an ocean and not a lake.My writing career, such as it is, began when my computer tragically died at a very young age. As background, I should tell you I've long been a fan of Hentai, which is basically anime styled porn, and my favorite meme is where a sweet and virginal young girl has her first sexual encounter and immediately turns into a stark, raving nymphomaniac.When my computer went to computer hell (Seattle, Washington) I had just finished reading an article describing how Japanese anime is influencing Western drawing styles and memes more and more, and had also just finished reading several of Adam Warren's 'Empowered' comics, (which, if you haven't already, you should definitely check out).Suddenly having lots of free time on my hands, (if you want to spark your creative juices I strongly suggest trashing your computer) I began to wonder what a story done in my favorite hentai meme (nymphomaniac, remember?) would be like.I envisioned a young virgin who, on her eighteenth birthday, dreams of a sexual encounter with a stranger and who, upon awakening, realizes it wasn't a dream. Following which, naturally, she turns into a sex-crazed maniac.At first that was the extent of it, but as time went on I kept thinking about what, exactly, that would entail, and finally had to write it down so I could keep track of it.That story has gone through many changes, and I'm still not ready to publish it, although I hope to someday, but it got me interested in writing. (I did recently publish the opening scene in a collection of short stories called "Pretty Little Sluts" as a bonus feature if you'd like to check it out.) Since my favorite subject is sex, I naturally turned to erotica.(I've been told that what I write isn't strictly erotica, as apparently my stories come with too much of something called 'plot.' I considered toning the sex down so I could sell them as straightforward fiction, but what fun would that be?)And I'm sorry, but I don't see the point in writing if you don't tell a story, so you'll just have to suffer through the myriad adventures my girls and gurls encounter as they bounce from one bed to another. Or the couch, desk, floor etc... I'm still trying to figure out how to write a sex scene on the ceiling, although I've come pretty close to it with Dove.Most of my early works were either centered around sexually 'enthusiastic' girls, or a little later, BBC loving ones, but for some time now I've been interested in trans girls. I blame Supergirl, and the lovely and talented young trans actress who was featured on that show. Because, let's face it, if I'm fascinated by the thought of a young girl transitioning from a virgin to a sex maniac after her first time, then the idea of a boy who does the same thing, sacrificing not only his 'cherry' but his male identity, is positively irresistible.(A friend once told me I was contrary. I argued with them, of course, but they have a point. I love stories or characterizations that challenge the rules or norms of society. What can I say? I'm just a troll at heart.)So, along with my usual fare, you'll find a lot of my more recent works feature sissies or trans girls. If you're not into that sort of thing, make sure you check my categorizations. Don't worry, you'll still find lots of sweet young nymphomaniacs and hot interracial sex among my other works.As always, I would be greatly appreciative of any feedback regarding my writing style that anyone would care to share with me, either directly at [e-mail] or by posting reviews of my works on-line wherever you purchased your edition. Also, good news for all you people out there who, like me, love free stuff. I'm not getting any younger, and I like the idea of people reading my books after I'm gone, so I've decided to make all of them free from now on, including any future ones. I've got about four I'm trying to finish up before that final visitor shows up knocking on my door, (including a cute takeoff on Grimms' Fairy Tales that I hope to have out in a couple of weeks) so keep an eye out for them. I'm not exactly clear on how it works, but I think if you either sign up for alerts or 'favorite' me you'll get notified when I publish something new, so you might want to do one or both of those things if you haven't already.XOXO,Lilith

Book preview

My Sissy Slave

A Trans Sissy BBC Lust Story

Copyright 2022 Lilith Goode

Published by Lilith Goode at Smashwords

This book contains scenes of an adult nature, including graphic sexual scenes, scenes depicting drug use, and obscene language. No one under the age of eighteen should purchase or read this book. All characters in this work are eighteen years of age or older.

Cover Image Credit SHUTTERSTOCK / FOTODUKI

ISBN: 9781005290757

What started as a game was rapidly becoming so much more. Chris had agreed to be Jamal’s slave on a whim during a night of heavy partying, but now he was starting to wonder if it really was a game or his real life. But what he was really wondering was whether the feelings he was developing for the handsome black man was lust, or love. What’s a poor white boy to do when he’s confronted with the growing realization that the way he’d always viewed himself sexually is wrong? Worse, how does he break the news to his mom?

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE - FANTASIES

CHAPTER TWO – THE CALL

CHAPTER THREE – DINNER AND DANCING

CHAPTER FOUR – SISSY IN TRAINING

CHAPTER FIVE – TRANSVEINIA

CHAPTER SIX – THE MORNING AFTER

CHAPTER SEVEN – ACES

CHAPTER EIGHT – LET’S TALK ABOUT SEX

CHAPTER NINE – GAMES MASTERS PLAY

CHAPTER TEN – MOVING DAY

CHAPTER ELEVEN - FANTASIES COME TRUE

CHAPTER TWELVE – LIVING THE LIFE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – BAD SISSY!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN – LEARNING NEW TRICKS

CHAPTER ONE - FANTASIES

This shit always makes me so horny. Man, I’ll fuck anything.

I know what you mean.

A smile appeared on Jamal’s face.

What’s your fantasy?

What do you mean?

You know. Like being blindfolded and tied up naked on a bed spreadeagle or having sex on a motorcycle or something. Everyone has a favorite they think of when they’re doing coke. It’s a basic fact.

I hesitated. I knew what he was talking about, of course. It was true. I just wasn’t sure I was willing to share it with a stranger. He didn’t seem to notice while he was preparing more lines for us. I tried stalling.

What’s yours?

I asked you first.

In a way, it was funny he’d mentioned motorcycles. Mine involved them. In a roundabout way.

My fantasy was being gangbanged by bikers.

Not exactly the sort of thing you share with someone you’ve just met. Especially when you’re not even gay.

I mean, it was just the drugs talking, right? As if to tease me, he held out the metal straw and the mirror. I took the cylinder and leaned over, snorted two lines, and handed it back to him.

Thanks.

He did his lines and sat back.

So, what’s your fantasy?

It’s embarrassing.

Grinning, he replied, That’s what makes them fun. Come on, what is it?

Well, look… I’m not gay, all right?

Understood. Don’t worry. Mine’s a little gay too, and I have a girlfriend. I have a theory that everyone’s secret fantasy is a little gay. Well, the non-gay peoples’ fantasies. I’m not sure what a gay person’s fantasy would be. Having sex with girls? Anyway, it’s why people keep them secret. Often even from themselves. Except when they do coke, which loosens inhibitions and lets the fantasies out of their secret hiding places.

Well, that made it easier. Although I was a little miffed at his apparent assumption that I didn’t have a girlfriend. I mean, how would he know? Not that I do have one, or have ever had one, or have ever even been out on a date, but still.

Shit, is it that fucking obvious?

I watched him chop more lines as I said, Well, I get gangbanged by a bunch of bikers.

How many?

I don’t know. Five or six, I guess. They take me to, like, a big empty warehouse.

Do they rape you?

What? No! No, I’m not against the idea. I mean, I’m kind of turned on as they’re taking me there.

So, you know what’s going to happen?

Even as I’m relating the fantasy the familiar images are unfolding in my mind, and I feel my cock growing hard in my jeans.

Yeah. I’m at a biker bar. It’s a wood frame building, kind of plain, like a saloon in the old west or something, with a bunch of Harley’s parked out front. The leader comes up to me and picks me up, I guess. I don’t really have much of a scenario for that part. It’s like one moment I’m at the bar and the next I’m on the back of his bike and he’s taking me to the warehouse, followed by his biker pals. I’m feeling excited, like a kid on Christmas Eve, as we ride.

Then what happens?

He handed me the straw and I leaned over and did two more lines.

Thanks. Well, like I said, they take me to some sort of empty warehouse, and they watch as I get undressed. Then I get on my knees as they surround me until I’m looking up at a circle of cocks above my head, and then I begin sucking them. It’s not real detailed. I mean, it cuts from that scene to the next one where they’re taking turns fucking me, and that’s pretty much it. I guess you’d say my fantasy is more about the feelings of anticipation than the actual event. So, what’s yours?

I fantasize about having a slave.

A what?

A slave. You know, like a bondage slave. A little white boy who wears a dog collar and does whatever I tell him to.

Like sex?

Not exclusively. I mean, he does housework, or cooks, or whatever, but yeah, sex too. Grinning, he adds You should see the cute little maid’s outfit he wears when he’s on his hands and knees scrubbing the floor.

Damn.

Yeah. So, you ready to smoke a joint?

♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠

I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. Me, wearing a dog collar and nothing else, or sometimes a very sexy maid’s outfit, doing whatever Jamal told me to.

We played video games for an hour or so, then took another refreshment break. After doing four more lines and a couple hits off a new joint, I blurted out, I could do that.

Do what?

Be your slave. Not, you know, sexually. But I’d wear a collar and do anything else you told me to.

Really?

Yeah.

Well, shit.

Do you have a collar?

I think I have an old dog collar around here somewhere. I don’t know if it would fit you. It was a big dog, so it probably would.

How about a maid’s outfit?

I said it jokingly, and he laughed.

Afraid not. My girlfriend’s things would probably fit you. She’s pretty small.

I can wear them?

I found myself strangely turned on by the idea. It must be the coke, I told myself.

Sure. As long as you don’t rip them or anything. I’ll just wash them after you leave.

Okay.

He grinned.

Okay.

♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠

Jamal found the collar in a shoebox at the top of the closet, along with a leash. It was your basic brown leather, cracked and stained in places, clearly well used, but it looked clean and fit just fine. Jamal wrapped it around my neck and then fastened it.

When he was finished, I asked, Now what?

Now what, Master.

What?

You have to call me Master.

Oh. Sorry. Now what, Master?

Get undressed.

With you watching? We’re not having sex, right?

I told you, I’m not gay.

I giggled nervously. I tend to do that when I’m stressed. It’s embarrassing.

Right. Okay.

Taking a deep breath, I lifted my t-shirt off and then looked around.

Just put your things on the closet shelf for now.

All right.

Master.

Sorry. All right, Master.

I started towards the closet.

Finish getting undressed first.

Stopping, I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry as I bent over and unlaced my sneakers, then removed them and my socks.

Once that was completed, I hesitantly began unbuckling my belt, then unfastened the button and unzipped my jeans.

I could feel Jamal’s eyes on me as, taking another deep breath, I slowly slid them down my legs and kicked them off, leaving me in my underwear.

Jamal’s voice was slightly hoarse as he said, Everything.

Okay, Master.

I quickly stripped off my remaining garment and then, keeping my gaze averted from Jamal’s, I gathered everything up and walked over to the closet. I had to stand on my tiptoes as I placed it all on the top shelf. It was one of the most embarrassing things I’d ever done.

The worst part of it all was that I was sporting the hardest, most painful erection of my life. I reluctantly turned to face Jamal and he grinned.

I see you’re getting into the spirit of the thing.

Can I I uttered in a whisper so soft even I could barely hear it.

I cleared my throat and tried again.

Can I put something on, Master? Please?

He tilted his head back as he considered it.

You can put on a pair of Sharice’s panties.

My cock twitched and for a moment I thought I might cum without even touching it.

Thank you, Master.

♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠

I found a red thong that fit pretty good. I had to sort of lift my balls up high and scrunch everything together to make my junk stay in the narrow front section, and then tug the thong up real tight to give myself a wedgie to keep it all in place.

Luckily, my balls and dick are on the small side. Not that I considered those facts lucky normally, but you know what I mean.

Once I was dressed Jamal seemed at a loss as to what, exactly, he wanted me to do. We went back to playing video games. Mostly he just told me to get us beers or chips, and one time he told me to polish the coffee table, not that it needed it. I think he just wanted to watch me doing it.

At the end of the night, I removed Sharice’s thong and got dressed. I began missing the panties before I’d even finished sliding them down my legs.

Must be the coke, I told myself.

CHAPTER TWO – THE CALL

I assumed that was the end of it. A minor drug fueled adventure that I’d never share with anyone for the rest of my life.

Still, I found my thoughts frequently returning to my stint as a black man’s slave. My imagination added scenarios.

Here I was wearing a cute maid’s outfit as I did my chores, a picture that became much more vivid in my mind after I looked at some images of sexy maid’s costumes on the internet.

Here I was wearing a tiny plaid skirt and white blouse as my Master led me around on my leash.

Here I was wearing a pair of sexy panties and a sheer nightie as I waited for Jamal to come to bed.

And here, well, here I was wearing nothing at all, continuing to serve my Master after he’d come to bed. Serving him until he’d cum again and again, and then nestling close to his naked body once he fell asleep.

I wasn’t too worried. I knew that my fantasies were strongest in the days after doing coke, and they’d wear off soon enough as my memory of the weekend, and Jamal, faded. It wasn’t like I’d ever see him again. We hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers.

So, I was surprised when I answered my phone and heard his voice. I was even more surprised by how hard my heart began pounding as he spoke, and by how strong the urge to see him was. To play dress-up with him. To serve him.

I thought about asking how he’d obtained my number but decided it didn’t matter. Since all he knew about me was my name he must have gone to some effort, which was an indication of how powerful his own urge to see me again must be.

Hey Chris, it’s Jamal.

Hey.

Just thought I’d call and see what you were doing.

Nothing much. Just hanging out.

Yeah, me too. Hey, I had a good time last weekend. You know, playing video games.

Me too.

You want to do it again this weekend?

Sure.

Listen, Sharice is going out of town. She’s leaving Friday afternoon and won’t be back until Monday night. I was wondering if you maybe wanted to spend the weekend. You know, fool around?

In an uncharacteristic display of courage, I decided to say what we both were thinking.

You mean be your slave?

Um – well, yeah. If you want. The party supplies are on me.

I perked up even more at that.

Great! Sure, I’d love to serve you this weekend, Master.

Laughing, Jamal said, Okay, when do you want to come over?

My last class gets out at three on Friday, Master.

Super. I’ll see you then.

Will you buy me a maid’s outfit, Master?

What? Really?

You don’t have to. I just thought you might, you know, want me to dress for the occasion, Master.

That’s a great idea. Sure, I’ll buy you a maid’s costume. Hell, I’ll take you shopping. There’s a store Sharice likes that sells all sorts of shit. We’ll go there after you get here Friday.

I can’t wait, Master.

Neither can I.

♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠

Sexy Me is the greatest store in the world.

Well, if you’re a slut or a sissy, or someone who wants to play at being either. It has everything. It’s like a shop designed from porn fantasies.

It has stripper outfits, sexy cosplay costumes, and dresses that they claim are for club wear, but I’ve never seen girls wearing anything like them in any clubs I’ve ever been to. I’d sure like to. Some of them have more holes than fabric.

I saw one that consisted of nothing but a series of strings that wrapped around it, held up by a couple of thin vertical pieces of fabric at the sides that they were attached to. And not that many strings, either.

It also has an absolutely amazing variety of dildos, ranging from tiny ones that are barely larger than my index finger to huge monstrosities that are two feet long and as thick as my thigh.

Some of them are realistic, meaning they look like an actual cock and balls, while others are shaped like tentacles or other appendages straight out of a Lovecraftian nightmare.

They have nipple clamps, vacuum tubes in various sizes that can go on nipples, breasts, or cocks to enlarge them, bondage outfits that consist of only a few leather straps that go around, but not over, a person’s private bits, as well as whips, riding crops, canes, and paddles, butt plugs, cock cages and other chastity devices for both male and female subs, and enough lubricant to fill a swimming pool.

Jamal had driven us in his Porsche after I’d arrived at his apartment. I loved his car. I’d ridden in a Corvette once. It made that seem downright clunky.

Just before we got out of the car, he turned to me.

Let’s get you properly attired.

I stared at him as he wrapped the old dog collar around my neck and fastened it while my cock grew hard.

Once we were standing next to the car, he fastened the leash to the collar, and I almost came right then and there. He held the end as I followed him inside the store and then stopped, stunned, as I took it all in.

Oh my God!

That’s oh my God, Master.

Master. It’s… it’s… oh my God! Look. It has one of those giant X’s!

They’re called saltire crosses.

How do you know that, Master?

Some of them have hinges that allow them to be turned upside down. Those are called Catherine wheels.

Um – Master, should I be worried?

Jamal smiled.

Not as long as you’re a good little slave.

I’ll be good, Master, I promise.

Then let’s get you dressed.

I was embarrassed being led by him as we started walking up and down the aisles, but excited as well. For his part, Jamal seemed right at home.

I was even more embarrassed when a hot-bodied clerk with thick, flame red hair arrived to assist us. At least, I was until I noticed she had an Adam’s apple. A very faint one, but it was there.

Well, I supposed I didn’t have to worry about her judging me. She looked amazing. Her facial features were feminine, by which I mean she looked like an actual girl, not like a boy dressed up as one.

Her body also looked all natural, what I could see of it, which was quite a lot. They didn’t wear uniforms at Sexy Me, but the dress code seemed to be skimpy.

I guessed she must be on the new MTF pills I’d heard a bit about, the ones that basically give a person the body they would have had if they’d been born a female. If it were true, she would have been a truly outstanding one. Centerfold material.

Well, it doesn’t replace your cock with a pussy, but it does shrink your package a lot.

She was the first person I’d ever met, that I knew of anyway, that was on the treatment.

Hi there. Welcome to Sexy Me. I’m Melody. What are we shopping for today?

A maid’s outfit for my sub.

Hmmm. She looked me over as if I were a used car she was considering buying that she wasn’t too impressed with. Do you want breast forms?

No.

All right. How sexy are we talking?

Hot, but not naked.

Cow prints are in vogue.

No, something a little more traditional. I’m old fashioned. How about a Lolita style?

She’s small enough. All right, I think I know just the thing. If you’ll just step over here, sir.

I listened to this exchange in bemusement. Jamal seemed much more knowledgeable about, well, everything, than I would have taken him to be. I began to suspect I might not be the first slave he’d owned. Either that, or he spent a lot of time looking at very specific types of porn.

I followed them over to an area that seemed devoted to nothing but maid’s outfits and accessories.

Melody continued to ignore me as she and Jamal discussed my body and its attributes and lack of them. At one point she asked, How big is her cock?

Small.

How small?

Christina, show Melody your cock.

They turned to me as I stared at them, both appalled and pleased. I was appalled at what they were asking me to do while pleased by the name Master had given me.

Um – right here, Master?

Jamal glanced at Melody apologetically, and I knew I’d displeased him. Apparently, subs weren’t allowed to question their Master’s orders. At least not in front of other people. I suddenly realized that while I thought of it all as playacting, just fun and games, Jamal took it much more seriously than that.

She’s new. Yes, right here. Right now. Take off your pants. And your underwear. In fact, take everything off.

I hesitated and he frowned. I realized that I didn’t want to make Jamal angry, not because I was afraid of him, but because it meant I wasn’t living up to my end of the bargain. After all, he was spending a lot of money on me, supplying the drugs and booze for the weekend and buying me outfits. I decided that I had to treat it more as an actual game, a role playing one, and that in order to do well at it I had to get more in character.

Games I understood. I played a lot of games. They were a great substitute for real life. You didn’t have to worry about other guys making fun of you because you were only an inch over five feet tall and built like a scarecrow, or by secretly thinking every time a couple of girls laughed while talking they were actually laughing at you.

I also realized that this was a test. I suspected if I had simply unzipped my jeans when he’d first told me to, he would have been satisfied, but since I hadn’t, I was being punished.

Well, Melody wasn’t objecting. In fact, she didn’t seem perturbed at all. She merely looked expectant, as if she couldn’t understand what the delay was, so I guessed Sexy Me had a very liberal dress code for its customers.

If they came in wearing some of the outfits they sold I supposed they’d have to.

Yes, Master.

Blushing, I quickly disrobed while staring at the ground. Once I was clad in only the old brown leather dog collar wrapped around my neck, with Jamal still holding the other end of the leash attached to it, Melody ran one finger down my painfully erect penis, not as if she were stroking it but the way one does with a piece of merchandise or an object de art, like a statue, feeling the texture and the design.

You’re so lucky to have such a small cock. Even your balls never dropped very far. Mine is huge, even after my treatments. It’s so unfair!

I didn’t know how to respond to that.

I’m sorry.

It’s not your fault. Try these on.

She handed me a pair of very skimpy black panties that had a small half circular white lacy piece on the front, like a miniscule apron, or maybe half a doily, with a tiny black bowtie centered on it.

I hurriedly slipped them up my legs and got my cock and balls arranged inside them. I felt much better once I was no longer naked.

It was funny, but before that moment I would have considered appearing in public wearing those panties to be very nearly the same thing as being naked, but suddenly that tiny bit of cloth was my refuge from the eyes of the world.

Although, to be fair, even though there were several shoppers in eyesight, no one seemed to be paying the slightest bit of attention to us.

The panties had a tiny triangle front and another in the rear, connected by a narrow elastic band that encircled the top. Normally I would call it a waistband, but it went around my hips, and not very high up my hips at that, so I supposed it was a hip band.

I could tell that half my ass crack was projecting above the rear section, so I tried to pull it up.

Stop fidgeting.

I’m sorry, Master.

Melody handed me a bra that consisted of two tiny black triangles that looked barely large enough to cover my nipples, connected by several pieces of string. At my blank look, she sighed.

You’re very new, I take it?

I nodded and she moved behind me, reaching around me to get everything situated and then tying the strings in the back and at the rear of my neck to hold it in place.

All right. Before we go any further, we should do her face. What color hair do you want?

She was back to talking to Jamal. He said, Blonde.

Let’s go pick something out, shall we?

She led us to a section of shelves lined with mannequin heads topped with wigs and, after she and Jamal talked it over, they picked out a blonde one that was about my natural color, but blonder somehow, parted high on the side that fell in waves halfway down my back, to just about where the bra’s rear tie was.

Then she led us to a make-up counter and turned me over to another girl, a real one as far as I could tell, who proceeded to transform me into a stranger.

A very attractive stranger. My features weren’t quite as feminine as Melody’s, but they were definitely much less masculine than I was used to seeing in the mirror.

Melody then led us back to the maid’s costumes, where I was outfitted with a sheer lace white collar that had a sort of half-circular apron that covered part of my shoulders, but not the tops of my arms, and my upper chest and back, down to the tops of my breasts.

It reminded me of something they used to wear a long time ago, like the Puritans maybe.

It had a black bowtie attached to it, the fancy, longer kind fashioned from what looks like a ribbon used with some tuxedos that I also thought of as being old-fashioned, and sort of western. As in the old west, gunfights and