Date: Fri, 04 Aug 2000 15:41:54 EDT
From: lesli 99 <lesli99@hotmail.com>
Subject: Transgendered Lesli Part 14

Lesli Pt 14


It turned out that Moh was the only one of the three brothers actually in
Dubai at this time, and it was he who had sent for me.  It was Moh who
filled my thoughts and dreams for the next few days.

It was Moh who filled my bed as his visits took on a regularity that I had
not known before.  I came to depend on it, to an incredible degree.  At
this point in my visit I hadn't even left my room.  I wouldn't for a while,
as I came to understand my role as his concubine.

He was usually at the apartment around noon, and left the next morning.

His sexual appetite was vorific, and he provided the steady diet of
preverted, no holes barred sex that I had come to crave in the past weeks.
We went at it from the time he arrived until we fell asleep, and then
during the night I would find myself awakened as he rolled me over or, more
often than not, he simply slipped his hardened cock inside me as I lay on
my side.

The constant screwing kept me so loose that my pussy-hole gaped constantly,
day and night.  I spent the time between our sexual escapades with a
variety of tampons inside me to dry the constant wetness caused by load
after load of cum that he shot there.  His tongue and the remnants of his
ejaculation provided the only lubricant necessary, and on several occasions
I noticed that he entered me without even this preparation.  There was no
soreness now, as I was completely broken in.

After a few days I couldn't even keep the tampon in as my sphincter simply
refused to close at all.  I douched once and twice a day to stay clean.
There was no other way to control my bowels and they stayed empty, the only
thing coming out was a sweet mixture of douche and creamy white brown
liquid, the combination of what little waste my stomach produced and his
protein rich cum.  The Galleria had a drug store, and I found an ample
supply of Kotex pads and belts there which I took to wearing to absorb the
seemingly constant ooze of fluid from down there.

I was allowed to venture out of the apartment now, first short trips to the
shops on the first and second floors of the Galleria, and then the next
day, I actually slipped out and walked by the Gulf, near the hotel.  The
summer dresses and sandals that Mansour had packed for me were a good
choice as the horrible heat of summer in the Middle East would be
unbearable in anything heavier.  I enjoyed the walks, and I enjoyed the
looks I got from tourists and natives alike as I made my way thru the lobby
and out into the sunshine.  Just another tourist, I imagined them thinking.
Blondes in Dubai, especially pretty young blondes, turned heads.  I ate up
the attention.  I didn't notice the security men who followed.

We seemed to be in love, constantly telling each other so.  I felt it.  For
the first time in my life, I had a man who kept me happy and satisfied in
the way I craved.  And the way he craved.  We seemed to be genuinely happy
together, and the time apart was spent longing to be together again.

By the end of the week of the week I was out of my mind with the constant
pleasure provided by all this sex, and I had forgotten all about anything
else other than being here, with my man.  It seemed as my whole life had
been this week, and thoughts of life in the US had faded to oblivion.  It
was simply day after day and night after night of being here.  The
apartment was luxurious, but I enjoyed little of it, save for the living
room and bedroom.  The kitchen took on special meaning one morning as he
bend me over the table and gave me one of the most memorable fuckings I had
known.  I would never think of breakfast in the same way again.

It was the fifth day, as we lay in bed enjoying the after glow of our first
fuck of the day, that I brouched the subject that had been nagging me
lately.

"How many wives to you have, Moh?"

"Only one" he answered.  I didn't know if that was true, but I didn't press
it.

"Is she pretty?"  I couldn't help asking.

"Not like you.  You are beautiful" he replied, running his hands thru my
hair "beautiful, naughty Lesli."

"Does she do the things I do for you....I mean the sex?"

"No,no,no,no,no" he exclaimed "she is Arab woman.  Arab women have only sex
for to make children."

I was stunned.  The thought of this wonderful sex machine having sex only
for procreation shocked me beyond belief.  No wonder he stayed so hot.
And, I'll admit, it made me feel good, knowing that all of this drive was
for me.

"Oh Moh, I wish so that I could be a real woman for you."

"You are real woman to me.  Real enough." he countered.

"Yes, but I wish I could be a real woman, you know, with a real pussy for
you." the thought had been in my mind on a regular basis now.  In the back
of my mind, at least, I was thinking of the next step,and I wanted to try
the idea out on Moh.  With all his money the option of SRS seemed to be a
distinct possiblity.

"How?" he asked, a puzzled look on his face.

"Simple" I explained "well, not so simple.  I can have an operation to,
well, to remove this" I indicated my penis, "and these" I continued,
pulling at my ball sack.  "A surgical operation to remove them, and make me
a pussy.  A real pussy."

"Huh?" he questioned.

"Something called sexual reassignment surgery, SRS, to change me into a
real woman."

"But I like you, Lesli, as you are."

"But think how much more you would like me if I had a pussy, like other
women."

"I can't have other women.  I can only have women like you Lesli, the way
you are.  A boy-girl.  It is forbidden."

"Sure you can, I mean, no one will know.  My passport says I'm a male, no
one will have to know anything different.  We can live in the US, or
London, or even here in Dubai and no one has to know that I've changed.  I
mean, I'll look the same, except I'll have a real pussy.  And I won't show
it to anyone but you Moh."

"I do not know, I'm not sure.  If it is found out that you are changed, I
will be defying my father.  His law.  It is serious Lesli, my father's
law."

"Moh, I'm registered in your country as an alien homosexual.  How much
worse can it be?"  I was beginning to form my logical argument.  "No one
will ever know that I'm anything but your transexual mistress like now."

"You want to change?  You want to do that for me?"

"I want to do it for both of us Moh.  I want to be your wife, your real
wife.  We can live in the states, or anywhere else and your father doesn't
have to know."  I was really pushing him now, and the expression on his
face told me that he was having trouble with this.  But I could also detect
a sliver of interest, and during the next few days, I formulated a plan and
shared it with him.  He started warming to the idea, slowly at first,
expressing more interest as we discussed it.  By the fifth day, I had him
turned, and we began seriously making plans for my return to the states
where the surgery could be performed.  I was excited as the wild plan
became more of a possibility.

By the end of that week he promised to send me back to the states and
arrange for surgery.  I would spend a few months with Amanda as I healed.
I had called her to discuss it, and she was as happy as I was.

"But what about his father?  What about his edict?" Amanda asked after I
had finished explaining the plan.

"Fuck his father" I exclaimed into the phone "that bastard can't control
Moh the rest of his life.  Moh has enough money and apartments that he can
leave his bitch raghead of a wife and we can get married.  We can steal
enough money from his father to live happily ever after.  I can liberate
this man."

"And he wants to marry you?"

"He doesn't know it yet, but when I get a pussy, I can make him do anything
I want."

I didn't even consider that the phones could be monitored as I continued to
call Amanda every day and update her on my plans.

Moh was sent on an errand to Pakistan that week.  His father wanted him to
represent the Emirate at some function or other.  I missed him.

By the third day, I really missed him, and I couldn't take being couped up
in the apartment anymore, so I went out for a walk every day, to the mall,
to the sea, or simply rambling thru the city.  I found the gold souk, the
mosques, and the incredible crowded markets so interesting.  I was really
the tourist now, and enjoying every minute of it.  But without Moh, I was
missing my regular doses of satisfaction.

And I began noticing the attractive dark men of the streets, Arabs,
Indians, Pakistanis.  My mind wondered, the product of a vivid imagination
and an oversexed nature.  When Moh didn't return that week, my mind started
to wander.  My heretofore sexual contentment wore thin, and finally wore
off.  My fidelity failed me.

The cleaning service changed complexion that week.  Instead of the old
Pakistani woman that had cleaned the apartment every day, I answered the
bell to find a slim, dark boy in a blue uniform, with a vacumn cleaner.  I
let him in, and went back to the couch and my book as he began to clean.  I
couldn't help but notice how attractive he was, and I had trouble keeping
my mind on the book, as I stole occassional glances at him.  I caught him
starring back on a few occassions.

He returned the next day to clean the windows, and I spent more time
looking at him.  He was 6 feet in my estimation, slim, with a tight waist
and long legs.  His uniform accentuated the outline of his butt, and I
found my eyes glued to it whenever he wasn't looking.  And, again, I found
him glancing at me as he worked.  My mind started to fill with all sorts of
fantasies.  I had to have a taste.

"Uh...do you speak english?" I finally stammered as he stood cleaning the
large window in the living room where I lounged on the couch with my book.

"A little" he responded in a heavy Indian or Pakistani accent.

"You want to make some money?" I asked, my voice cracking with the naughty
excitement I was feeling now.

"What?" he questioned.

"Money" I repeated, as I walked into the bedroom and returned with my
purse.
  I fished inside and produced a $20 bill, holding it up for him to see.

"What?" he questioned again. I walked over to where he stood and held the
note in front of his face.

"I suck you?" I asked, in a low voice, looking into his eyes for a
reaction.

"You....you...suck me?" he stammered, pointing to his zipper, a look of
disbelief on his face.

"Yes, I suck you" I responded, pumping my hand back and forth in front of
my open mouth, hoping it would explain what I wanted to do better than
words.

"OK" he said, nervously glancing around the room as if he suspected someone
else was there.  Putting the note in his hand, I brought my empty hand up
between his legs as he stood infront of me.  I massaged his balls and soft
cock thru the fabric of his uniform until he began to respond.  He quickly
unzipped his trousers and pushed me down on my knees where I came face to
face with his protruding cock.  He was hard now, and ready, and he pulled
my head to him, forcing his uncut head into my mouth.  I tried to back away
a little, to control the depth of his thrusts, but he kept the pressure on
my head as he began to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet,
mouthfucking me.  He was rock hard now, I would later estimate about 6
inches, and I could feel the foreskin slip back as his cock head scraped
along the back of my tongue.

He was too hot to last, and within minutes of taking him into my mouth, he
disgorged a heavy series of spurts into my throat, challenging me to
swallow quickly in order to keep it all inside.

As fast as it began, it ended, as he withdrew from my mouth, wiped his
dripping cock on my face, and zipped up.

"Thank you" I managed, looking up at him from where I knelt on the carpet.

"I go" he informed me "I come back, you pay more?"

"Sure, what time?" I asked.

"Four O'clock" he replied as he made his way out the door "I come back four
o'clock."

The afternoon fairly dragged by as I awaited his return.  I lounged in my
panties and bra, determined to give him a real show.  Maybe I could entice
him to screw me, it had been weeks, and my ass-pussy was itching to clutch
a cock again.  I was still stretched from the constant fucking of a few
weeks ago, and I kept my fingers stuffed inside me as I lay on the couch.
I had used so much lotion on my fingers that me hole was slippery wet now.

The knock came at two o'clock, two hours early.  'Good' I thought 'he's so
eager he's early' and I hurried to open the door.

"Mr Lesli, may I come in" it wasn't a question as the immigration officer
and Dr pushed thru the door.  I closed it behind them, surprised by this
unannounced visit.

"Mr Lesli" he continued "did I not make it clear that homosexuality is a
crime taken very seriously by the laws of our country?"  Surely he was
joking.  But I didn't know where this was leading.  I became aware of my
semi nakedness now and looked around the room for something to cover myself
with.  Nothing in sight, I sat down on the couch.

"Please" I remarked sarcastically "sit down, make yourselves at home."
They remained standing.

"Mr Lesli....uh...the Ahmed family has made...uh, shall we say...well,
while not accepting your homosexuality, they have made certain....well,
they have been flexible in your presence in this country.  They have
overlooked your physical masquarade because of their son.  You have misused
this trust in a very grave way, practicing homosexuality with others.
Undermining the law and ruling family.  This cannot go unpunished Mr Lesli.
You were warned when entering our country."

"What in the world are you talking about?" I asked, my voice rising an
octive in the process.

"Mr Lesli, you were warned that homosexuality was a crime" now it was the
doctor's turn to chime in "you were warned that practicing homosexuality
here would be greeted with punishment.  And you have flaunted that law,
ignored that warning."

"What the.....I mean...aw...get off it."  I shouted.  I had slept with the
Emir's son, he had come back time and time again.  What the fuck were they
trying to pull.  "Look, where's Moh?  He can straighten you two out."  Moh
would tell these two a thing or two.  He would kick them out of here and
get them off my back.

"Mr Lesli" the inspector began, his voice not more than a low growl "we
have telephone tapes of your plot to undermine the authority of our
country...by...by sedition.  By convincing the Emir's son to....to....to
provide money for an operation for you.  That is a very serious offense,
punishable by a lengthy imprisonment."

"Oh that?  That was just girl talk, you know, just a joke" I lied.

"And" he went on, his voice a bit stronger now, a smile playing tightly
across his lips "we have these" and with that, he handed me a stack of what
appeared to be 6 or 7 photos.  In the first, I was handing the maintenance
man what I knew to be a $20 bill.  In the next, I was kneeling in front of
him, my fingers on his zipper.  3 thru 7 were of me, still on my knees,
with his cock in my mouth.  At any other time I would be raging hard, but
now all I could do was stare at the proof positive in front of me.  I let
the photos drop to the floor.

I had been caught.

My mind racing, my senses numb, I replayed the warnings I had been given,
first in the US, and finally on the plane the day I arrived.  There was to
be no sex outside the Ahmed family.  It was number two rule, following the
requirement that I remain genetically male.  How serious were they?

"Mr Lesli, you would normally be imprisoned for homosexuality, and the
punishment for sedition is.....death, Mr Lesli...death."

My God!  Death? Were they serious?  I stared at them in disbelief.

"I.....I....I'm a US citizen" I gasped "you can possibly mean to suggest
that....that"

"Your citizentry doesn't enter into this, Mr Lesli" the inspector replied
"sedition is a grave crime against the Emirate, and believe me, you will
not be spared."  He sounded serious, and I was ready to pee my panties at
this point.  God, what had I gotten myself into?  Were they really, really
serious?

"But....but....but I....I mean....you can't..."

"We can, and we will, Mr Lesli.  You don't seem to understand the serious
nature of your transgression here in our country.  This is a crime that
will not be tolerated, and you will be made an example of.  Executions are
by beheading, and they are public.  You will not escape your punishment."

Oh God.  They were serious.  They were dead serious.  My ears were ringing,
louder and louder as the world started turning grey in front of me.

When I woke, I was laying on the couch, the world coming alive slowly as I
regained conciousness.  I had passed out.

"You seem to have fainted, Mr Lesli.  Here, take this drink of water" the
doctor said, offering me a glass of water.

"Thank you" I responded in a tiny, tiny voice.  It wasn't a bad dream.  I
had proven that to myself.  As I came back to normal, I noticed the
inspector had disappeared.  "Where is....."

"Oh, I asked the inspector to leave, his manner has obviously affected you.
I thought it best to spare you that."

"He wasn't...I mean he didn't mean.....I mean, it's not possible........"

"Quite the contrary Mr Lesli, he is quite correct in his statement.  You
will be judged quilty of sedition, from the tapes I know this and you will
be executed.  This is a serious offense, similar I believe to your
country's charge of treason.  Except, unlike your country, we do not fill
our prisons with criminals convicted of such serious offenses.  Our justice
is swift.  And besides, Mr Lesli, who in your country knows that you are
here?  Your identity will be kept secret, even after you are executed."

I was week with fear again.  I took several gulps of water to try and calm
my nerves, but they did no good, and I lapsed back on the couch, unable to
focus.

"But.....but....I mean, isn't there....I mean I'll leave.  I'll never come
back here.  I'll never tell a soul about being here, I mean it'll be erased
from history.  Nothing to worry about." I tried to reason with him.

"No, Mr Lesli, I'm afraid it is too late for that.  You have committed a
crime.  A serious crime.  You must be punished.  There is no way."

"Look" I went on, desparate now "I'll do anything.  Anything.  For you, for
anyone." I didn't mean it to sound sexual, it was beyond that.  I would,
literally do anything to save my life.

"I'm afraid it is too late for.......well now, perhaps there is a slight
possibility....no, I don't think that would work."

"What?  What wouldn't work?  What are you talking about?" the words coming
in a torrent I grasped at any possibility to turn this around.

"Well...it could be...well, you do have certain attributes.  Certain
qualities, I mean.  There are certain types, tourists, foreign visitors,
who seem to have a predilection for some of the things you seem to be
talented at."  What was he talking about?

"What are you talking about?"

"Let's just say" the words coming very slowly, very precisely, not to be
misunderstood "that a certain type of person, people, may find you...and
what you do, attractive.  And perhaps there might be other persons who
would manage you in these activities."

My head was still spinning and I found it hard to follow him.  But a few
words made some sense and I began to begin to draw somewhat of an image of
what he meant.  People, certain types, find me attractive.....people to
manage me?  It started to sound vaguely familiar.

"Are you suggesting prostitution?" I asked, still not sure if I was
thinking along the lines he was.

"I'm not suggesting anything, Mr Lesli" he shot back "I'm saying that there
may be someone who would be interested in interveneing on your behalf to
spare your life."  There, it was just as I thought.  Why would anyone want
to intervene?  What would their interest be in me.  I had worked for a pimp
before, Rufus, and I knew that nothing in this world was free.

"And what would I have to do for this person?" I asked, fully aware of the
cost.

"I can't say, Mr Lesli, that would be between you and this person.  I can't
be involved you see."  Oh yes, but I bet he would get a nice kickback, or
someother form of compensation for this 'find'.  I just didn't know what to
say.

"Uh...thanks for the offer, but I think I'd just better get back to the
States and get on with my life" I tried.

"Mr Lesli, first, it is not an offer.  I am not making an offer.  I am
suggesting that there might be a way to spare your life.  And second, there
is no going back to the US, or any other place I might add.  You are a
criminal in this country and you will be dealt with accordingling.  I am
simply holding out the possibility of someone who may be willing to
intervene with our government and make the necessary remuniration and
guarantee of your removal."

"Well....well, what are the alternatives then?" I sputtered.

"The alternative to being punished for you crimes?  The only alternative is
for someone to intervene and guarantee that you will leave our country,
that you will never return.  And that person, or persons, must be allowed
by our government to do just that.  The chances of finding someone to do
that are low, but as I said, perhaps there is someone who would be
interested, willing to do that, based on the use of your....shall we
say....talents, Mr Lesli."  A pimp.  It had to be a pimp.

"What about Moh...uh, Mr Ahmed?  I mean, I came here as his guest.  He kept
me.  I mean, surely he can help me.  Surely he can intervene."

"I'm afraid, Mr Lesli, that when Mr Ahmed was provided the evidence, the
phone tapes and pictures, that he has disavowed any further contact with
you.  His father has decreed it, and Mr Ahmed has agreed.  No, Mr Lesli,
there is no hope that he will help you.  In his opinion, you betrayed his
trust and you have shamed him."

Moh shamed?  What a laugh.  Moh had taken anything and everything he wanted
from me.  He had screwed me.  And then he screwed me good.  My head was
spinning again, and I tried my best to remain calm, but inside I was a mass
of insecurity now.  I had no alternative that I could see.  I was either at
the mercy of someone I didn't even know, to do to and with me I knew not
what.

Or I was dead.

What a load of shit.

"I...I....I guess I have no alternative then" I began.

"No, Mr Lesli, believe me, this is your only alternative."

to be continued

lesli99@hotmail.com