Date: Mon, 10 Mar 2003 03:55:27 +0000
From: marcia st.denis <marciatv@hotmail.com>
Subject: Jenn's Hunger - chapter 6

Jenn's Hunger (Hard Time Sex- Prequel)

Copyright by Marcia St.Denis and Jennifer Stewart.

This story is a prequel to an earlier story called Hard Time Sex and was
begun soon after we finished our earlier collaboration. Unfortunately, it
has been more than a year since I have been able to reach Jennifer to get an
OK from her to publish this final version of the story. Since I have not
heard back from her, I am sending it in for your enjoyment just as I
finished it.  I only hope that my interest in perversely exciting characters
and situations has not gone too far for her to be happy with it. My primary
wish is that our many fans will derive great pleasure over many readings. It
is why I write trannie erotica in the first place: as a gift to you.

I hope I speak for both of us when I say that we write our stories for your
pleasure and we hope they bring you many moments of release and contentment.
Feel free to share our story with any other story site but please attribute
it to us. And finally, please write if you enjoyed it for I would love to
hear from my fans. Thank you.

Email me at:  marciatv@hotmail.com



Chapter Six -- The Perfect Masochists' Mistress

Jenn couldn't get enough sex. Any thought of working a regular job for a
living went out with his maleness. Now that he was a t-woman, he knew the
power he held over men and their money. Getting enough cash to live on and
to buy the life he wanted and needed was almost too easy. Jean was right.
Men were there to be used. He delighted in torturing them as they came under
his spell. He loved the fact that with men, when the little head got hard,
the big head went soft. It was so much fun to realize that he could get
anything he wanted from them once he got them horny enough. What was even
more fun was that they LOVED being manipulated by Jenn-the-bitch and giving
him everything he asked for. He had become so popular that he had a
scheduling problem and in order to get put higher up on the appointments
list he had taught them that gifts of money, clothing, jewelry, trips or
anything else of value would be most favorably looked upon.

And he exploited to the max the simple biological fact of male stupidity in
the face of their all-consuming lust. He was "earning" more than a $1000 per
night. He bought a large condo with a view of the river and asked Jean to
move in with him. She jumped at the chance to spend more time with her sexy
little Jenn, whom she had grown to love and think of as her own creation.

Within 6 months of Jenn's coming out, Jean had taken him to her plastic
surgeon and Jenn had had his 34C implants put in and had begun his hormone
shots. Not strong enough to take away his ability to get hard and cum his
usual copious amounts of thick creamy white jiz but just enough to keep his
doe-soft skin smooth and blemish free and keep his downy peach fuzz
completely off his body. He was the most beautiful girlboy she had ever
seen.

In fact, it was all Jean could do to keep from touching him whenever she
passed close to him. She knew she was infatuated like she had never been
before. She knew that the power she normally lorded over her lovers was gone
in the face of this young goddess. She got wet every time she caught even a
glimpse of her lover. She couldn't get over his flawlessly smooth skin or
his rich, luxuriant, naturally wavy tresses, now died a gorgeous strawberry
red, and cascading down to the tips of his upturned nipples.  When they took
their bubble baths together she swooned every time Jenn asked her to wash
his body. His perfect, high pointing, full and rounded 34C tits with their
2" wide, dark brown aureolas and ½" long, fat and juicy nipples begged to be
suckled and bitten. His slim tapered waist that flared naturally out to his
boyishly lean hips and tight round buttocks was impossible to stay away
from. And his cock, which still hardened to its full 8", was the most
beautiful thing she had ever seen or sucked or fucked.

But best of all was that Jenn's transformation had brought out the bitch in
him: A complete and total dominant bitchiness and disdain for men that only
matched her own yet seemed entirely natural and thus all the more convincing
to his needy masochistic clients. They were so perfectly matched that it was
beyond her wildest dreams. She had despaired of ever finding another woman
who took as much pleasure in using and abusing men as she did. And to find
her perfect match with a gorgeous and always horny cock to stuff her pussy,
ass and mouth was heaven on earth.

Although Jean was Jenn's mentor in makeup, feminine deportment, sex and her
mocking cruelty towards men, it was Jenn who took the lead in choosing their
wardrobes and did all the shopping for clothing, shoes, accessories and
jewelry. Jenn's taste was impeccable. He had an unerring sense of style that
was both blatantly sexual and breathtakingly feminine. Jean had never known
anyone who could see the possibilities of combining various elements of a
wardrobe into something fresh and new the way Jenn could.

And Jenn was a real clothes' horse. In fact, he put to shame any other
shopaholic female that Jean had ever known. Their closets were overflowing.
It was as if, once his ability to wear the clothes he adored so much as a
young boy and fledgling designer was given sanction, he went crazy in the
doing. If he didn't go shopping every day before his first customer Jean
knew there was something wrong, took his temperature and put him to bed...
without sex that day!

His taste ran towards two separate but related themes:  the extremely
feminine but very whorish look and the delicate, flowing, super feminine
look. The first and most often worn look was very similar to the wardrobes
Julia Roberts wore in Pretty Woman or Erin Brockovich with lots of low cut,
open bodice, tight blouses and stretch tops that showed off his new tits and
their encompassing bras... and short, butt enhancing, dripping-with-sex,
skirts... shortie halter tops or strapless bandeau topped dresses. And
always there were the high heels: sandals, pumps, slip-ons, mules, ankle
boots, thigh high boots, platforms, wedgies... Hundreds of pairs of heels
overflowed their closets.

The second and more private look had flowing slit-up-to-mid-thigh skirts and
open necked gauzy blouses, elegant cocktail dresses from Versace or Escada
with body enhancing cuts. Just for fun there were a few open-bottom,
multi-gartered girdles and some hobble skirts. Jenn was as aware of fashion
and what made a woman sexual and alluring just as a man is aware of
breathing and needing to inseminate women. (One of his favorite outfits was
a skin tight, red leather pant with tiny bolero-styled, single clasp, black
satin jacket (worn with only a demi-cup bra to let everyone see the size and
shape of his tits). He knew that if he wore this outfit, Jean would have him
on his back and his cock in her mouth or pussy within minutes. And then
there was lingerie, lingerie, lingerie and more lingerie.

He kept his working wardrobe with its reliance on butter-smooth leather and
glossy PVC, studded collars and wrist bracelets, opera length PVC gloves,
latex stockings, ankle-locked stilettos and open crotched leather, PVC or
rubber panties carefully arranged in his dungeon.

Their lives were perfect. Languid mornings spent in bed fucking and sucking
until they were spent and satiated; afternoons of gossip-filled shopping or
primping at the beauty parlor getting facials, pedicures, manicures, hair
colorings, (whose only purposes were to accentuate their total sexual
essences) and nights going from one party to another or receiving one client
after another. All this they did together except the actual sexual sessions
they had with the men who paid for their services and although they were
inseparable, each of them had their own special clientele with their own
special needs

Jean was more aggressively dominant and preferred inflicting verbal and
physical humiliation and punishment. She wore only black with metal studs
and chains everywhere with heavy dark makeup that made her look as dangerous
to the men who craved her talents as she was. Her clients couldn't seem to
get enough of her services and several of them had to be scheduled at long
enough intervals so that their flayed skin had time to heal before going
under her lash again. The sissy slaves who kissed her feet needed the sting
of her whips and the thumping of her paddles and the cut of her canes to be
able to get even the smallest little hard on. Ecstasy for them came after
long sessions of unbelievable torture and humiliation. Jenn found it hard to
imagine there were men who needed and wanted the kind of harshness in their
lovers that she meted out but he had soon learned the high value men placed
on these services.

Jenn specialized in the men who needed their girls with that special extra
little something between their legs and he had found, under Jean's tutelage,
the special pleasure and the high pay of being a dominant ts bitch to men
who craved abuse; usually extremely rich, successful men who knew their
lives were a lie, that they weren't really the self-assured business,
medical or legal titans the world saw them as. These men knew they were
fooling their families and colleagues and that it was just a matter of time
before they were found out. They craved the punishment and humiliation that
Jenn would give them for the lies they lived on a daily basis. They needed
him to remind them that they were just the same naughty, cheating, lying,
unworthy little boys they were when they were young, except now their
misdeeds had far more drastic consequences in ruined businesses and lives
since they were grown up asset-strippers and robber barons and the games
they played during the business day were real and harmed real people.

These men begged him to spank them, slap them, call them filthy names and
humiliate them both privately and publicly when possible.  They desperately
needed to be abused both mentally and physically and Jenn was just the sexy,
horny girlieboy to do it. He started to think that men like this were the
norm, not the exception. He particularly loved making them get on their
hands and knees to crawl over to him in public places like gay bars or
trannie nightclubs and lift his skirt and take his hard cock into their
mouths and then publicly humiliate them by deflating and telling them how
worthless they were at the top of his voice, not only as fake businessmen,
but as potential sex partners since they couldn't even keep their own
lovers' cocks hard.

And then there were the men who needed such physical manifestations of the
lowness of their lives by having her take out her cock and pee on them,
letting the warm yellow liquid run down their faces to ruin their $2000
Armani suits and $400 Gucci shoes before he would stroke himself back to an
erection, start slapping their faces with his cock and then forcing them
onto their hands and knees and entering them from behind and fucking them
until they were mindless, blubbering, sex-crazed, submissively masochistic
idiots.

But he was still young and impressionable and his senses reeled at the
overwhelming passion and force of desire that coursed through these men.
Their needs seemed so powerful and the rawness of their desperate sexuality
took him from the peak of one mind-numbing thrill to next. It would have
been impossible for anyone so new to the world of sexuality, let alone the
steamy eroticism of forbidden sexuality, to remain unmoved or uninfluenced
by what he saw and heard and did and experienced.

Yes, the power of his control over these men and their needs was a powerful
aphrodisiac and he often found himself getting erections and spurting
copious amounts of cum without a single stroke to his cock just from the raw
sexuality of whipping a man's cock and balls until they would soil
themselves with their own cum. So it was inevitable that such a young and
impressionable girlieboy would be influenced by what he was doing. And
before long it became clear to him that he was enjoying inflicting pain to a
degree that wasn't healthy but was too sensually fulfilling to stop. He had
to admit that through all of this he had developed his own little needs;
needs he never told Jean about and would never tell her about.

He soon learned that he some of his biggest thrills came when his clients
turned the tables on him. When after a long, hot, fuck, suck and cum-filled
session with the most servile masochists, he would let them take out all of
their own pent-up rage, deeply seated frustrations and perverted,
masochistic needs and desires on his available and exposed body. He secretly
reveled in their overwhelming need to spank him, slap him, spit on him, pee
on him, whip him and fuck him raw after he had done the same things to them.
He had to admit that he had developed a taste for masochistic behavior and
he was at the highest peak of ecstasy when his clients would spew their
slimy goo up his ass and into his heavily painted mouth after they had told
him what a filthy, worthless, disgusting, foul,
good-for-nothing-but-walking-the-street gutter whore he was while whipping
his ass and cock and balls to the point where the pleasure overwhelmed the
pain. He felt complete and fulfilled during these perverted sex sessions in
a way he could never feel with Jean. These sessions of raw lust and power
and need and hunger took him to the edge of human sensation, to the point
where anything less left him unsatisfied.

He loved cumming up their rectums, imagining that he was impregnating them
with his seed, and the thought of sending them home with his cum leaking out
of their butts onto their shorts to raise questions in their wives' minds
about what they did and with whom they did it on those nights when they
"worked late" sent electric jolts of pleasure up his spine. And the prices
he charged were astronomical. Ridiculous actually, since he would have done
it for free. For Jenn craved and needed men and their adoration and the
validity they gave him with the lustful reality of their hard cocks and the
stinking, slippery, sticky, gooey, spunky jiz they deposited inside him and
on him just as much as these special men needed him.

Judge Bill Stone was one of Jenn's favorite clients. Three to four times a
week the Judge would call Jenn's work number and beg for an appointment.
Jenn loved creating as much risk and tension in his male admirers as
possible and he knew that Judge Stone had a wife and three daughters waiting
at home. In order to test his power over the Judge he often made
appointments for as late in the evening as he felt like.

Tonight they were scheduled to meet at 11 PM, which meant that they wouldn't
be done until at least 1AM, well past the hour any decent husband would have
returned home. Jenn giggled at the thought of his little Billy-boy going
home to momma with cum dripping out of his rectum and staining his shorts,
his wrists and ankles rubbed raw from the shackles that he favored, his
hands, arms, back and chest striped with the welts from his riding crop. But
what he loved thinking of most was Bill returning to his wife smelling of
that odd mixture of the expensive French perfume Jenn preferred wearing and
of his cum highlighted by the fecal remains from Bill's rectum. What in the
world did these men tell their wives, he wondered. And how in heaven's name
did they believe the stories they were being fed?

52 year old Bill Stone parked his car carefully in the private parking stall
Jenn kept reserved in his condo for his clients. Bill's heart had begun to
race the moment he entered the familiar, dark cavern of the garage and he
had to sit in his car to quiet his nerves before venturing for the third
time in less than a week into this private world of pleasure that was so
exquisite he could barely come down off the high it gave him before he felt
the need to return. As he pressed the button to Jenn's condo he imagined the
sight and smells that would greet him and his entire body began to shake. He
had to laugh at himself with a bitterness that rose to his throat. He knew
he was every bit as addicted to the incredibly sordid, perverted world of
S&M sex that he had discovered at the feet of this teenaged shemale bitch
queen as any of the hundreds of drug addicts who sat in his court shaking
from not getting their fix. Here he was, making his third trip up Jenn's
elevator in less than a week, with his heart racing, a light sweat shining
off his face and his entire body shaking from need and want.

Every time he tried to stop seeing Jenn and renounce this sick need, he
would last at most three days before he would break down with a sob, admit
his addiction, pick up the phone and make another appointment. How had this
happened to him? How had a well-respected Judge become so physically and
mentally addicted to this hot little sheboy minx that filled his thoughts 24
hours a day? He now knew more than anyone what inner needs drove the crack
and heroin addicts he saw in his courtroom; addicts who committed crime upon
crime to satisfy the demons within themselves. Would he end up the same way?
Would he be reduced to spending all of his waking hours attempting to fill
this aching need regardless of all consequences?

What was it about the high he felt whenever he was in the presence of his
bitch mistress that he would risk his entire career, his reputation, his
family just for another hit of Jenn's love-juice. All of these thoughts
flooded through him again as he rode the elevator up to the familiar
pleasure den he dreamed of night and day. His penis was slowly filling with
surging blood and stiffened in his pants. It had started to tent out his
right pant leg and as he reached down to lift it up so that it could lay
flat against his stomach, he let out an audible groan and had to steady
himself against the back of the elevator to keep himself from staggering as
his desires overtook his entire being. He knew he could never give up the
pleasure he got from his shemale mistress. He could never go back to being
satisfied with the boring, vanilla flavored, in-and-out, missionary sex his
wife expected from him and that he was increasingly unable and unwilling to
deliver. Not after feeling the surge of endomorphines that filled his body
the moment he caught a glimpse of the PVC outfits clinging to Jenn's
feminine form; not after feeling the release from all the cares of the
world, and all of the pressures he had to face daily, once he experienced
the first sting of the crop or heard the first verbal humiliation that
escaped his lover's soft, moist, perfectly painted lips; not after feeling
the serenity that came with being stripped, shackled and abused by his
goddess Jenn.

As the elevator doors opened, he had assumed the position he knew was his
place; that of being on his knees with his hands behind his back and his
head bowed. It was the smell as much as anything else that hit him and sent
him into his world of pleasure the moment the doors to the condo opened. It
was an odd, sweet mixture of exotic insense, expensive perfume, feminine
cosmetics, soft, worked leather, vanilla scented candles and something he
wasn't told about until much, much too late for him to fight or resist:
opium smoke.

Jenn had learned this trick from Jean who had used it for years to enslave
her clients and keep them coming back for more without them ever being aware
of it. Jenn, on the other hand, loved to make sure the humiliation of his
clients was total by telling them that they were not only addicted to the
pleasure his big-cocked, feminine charms could bring them but to the opium
their bodies began to crave after the third or fourth visit. He would laugh
at their consternation, especially when they announced their indignation at
being so ill treated, that came from knowing they were drug-addicted,
sex-addicted weak sniveling males. Jenn loved knowing that the combination
of smells that greeted his clients sent them into a stupor from which they
could not escape and to which they would always return.

Jenn and Jean cleverly avoided addiction themselves by making sure all of
the opium smoke was vented into the reception hall. All of their sex pets
were made to kneel in the carpeted private elevator whose doors were left
open to the reception area. The 20 minutes they were made to remain kneeling
while breathing in the perfumed, heavily addictive and highly intoxicating
air served the twin purposes of clearing out the residue of opium smoke and
of making sure there was enough time to let the opium weave its magic on the
dreams of their victims. They wanted to be certain their men had slipped
into that semi-conscious state where they could do nothing but dream about
the pain and the pleasures that would be theirs in a few moments. As the
minutes passed the sexual tension built while the narcotic took hold of
their reason and altered their judgment and allowed them to lose themselves
completely in the dream-like pleasures that were to come.

Bill's self-loathing and self-contempt at this weakness in his soul and of
his flesh, which had reduced him to a state of addictive need, overwhelmed
him. As he knelt and the opiates took a hold of his brain and his cock
engorged to its full, thickly throbbing length, he couldn't help but giggle
at his predicament.

"Ohhhhhh God, yessssssssssssssssssssssss... Oh fuck... I love this feeling...
I've never felt anything so gooooooood... So right... So unbelievably
sexual... Every time I come here it gets BETTER...  I hope he comes soon... I
wonder what he'll be wearing... I need his touch. I need his love... I need
his tits and cock and piss and cum... I hope he is in a rage tonight... I
hope he humiliates me and degrades me tha way I deserve to be...  I need to
be abused and humiliated and fucked hard and forced to suck his cum or take
it up my sissy ass... My ass-pussy is so empty... So lonely... So unhappy when
it isn't stretched by his girliecock... Giggle... I wonder what my colleagues
or the voters would say if they saw me like this?"

Bill laughed out loud and brought his right hand around to caress his
enormous prick through his pants. He desperately wanted to unzip them and
snake his hand into the opening to bring his fat 7" out so he could stroke
it unfettered by the material of his pants. He did it and had no sooner
begun to masturbate himself over its entire length starting at the spongy,
soft head and slipping past his hyper-sensitive glans to feel the strange
soft-hardness of his desire-steeped and drug-crazed shaft when Jenn walked
into the reception area, strode over to his kneeling form and viciously cut
the back of his hand with a well-aimed flick of his riding crop.

"Did I give you permission to touch yourself, you filthy, horny, disgusting
little boy?"

Bill was paralyzed with fear and shock at the sting of both his words and
his crop. "No, mistress. I apologize, mistress. It will not happen again,
mistress."

"Then see that it doesn't you piece of worthless scum and put your hands
where they belong... NOW, you pig."

Bill returned his hand to behind his back as he felt the cuffs slip around
his wrists and had to bite his lip to keep himself from crying out in pain
as the riding crop whipped across the throbbing hardness of his penis and
barely flick against his tightened ballsack. But the odd thing about a true
masochist is that at the same time that he is feeling the unbearable pain of
the crop, he is also feeling an incredible rush of pleasure. His brain
registers the "rightness" of being punished for being the filthy, lewd,
drug-addicted, penis-whore that he was just milliseconds after registering
the pain. Bill felt the surging pleasure boil through his system and add to
the incredible hardness of his throbbing cock. He had needed to be here for
days and only now did he feel "at home" and content with who and what he had
become.

He drank in the sight of his cock-mistress and although having day dreamed
of Jenn and anticipating the pleasure he and the opium would bring him, Bill
was unprepared for the incredible eroticism of the creature standing in
front of him waiting to be worshipped.

Jenn had gone all out tonight to make sure that Bill would never forget how
lucky he was to be allowed to grovel at his feet. He had bathed just as
carefully as always and had rubbed his hormone-softened skin with his
favorite perfume scented skin cream: Givenchy's "Indecence". He then talcum
powdered his tiny little pubic patch, his smooth underarms and the vee of
his silken thighs. He was in a very pink mood tonight and so, after draping
his shoulders with a see through pink chiffon peignoir, he sat at his vanity
and did his makeup, emphasizing his eyes by applying his violet Lancome
eyeliner to the inner edge of his lower lid as well as taking long, thin
lines out past the ends of his eyes on both the top and the bottom lids. He
then applied three coats of thick violet mascara onto his long lashes and
finished his lids with progressive shades of plum to pink; a quick dab of
black pencil to the mole in the middle of his right cheek; some plum blush;
and then he carefully outlined his lips well past his lip line with a dark,
almost black, plum liner to make them as full as they could possibly be
before finishing off with a rich, lustrous, frosted, plum-red lipstick and
topping his luscious lips with a deep, lustrous gloss coat.

He brushed out his now breast-length strawberry blonde hair and pinched his
nipples hard to make them burn with pink color and stand erect. He pulled
lightly at the large gold hoops that had been pushed through the nipples and
felt the immediate alarm of pleasure rush to his cock. He rose and sauntered
over to his walk-in closet and slowly picked out his uniform for the
evening. He slipped on a pink satin, heavily boned corset that started just
above his pubic hair and ended just below his fat nipples. He attached the
drawstrings at the back to his cinching hooks and pulled away until he felt
his waist constrict to less than 24". He reached back and tied the strings
off then slipped on a wispy, see through pink thong, gently enfolding his
large cock and hairless balls into its front vee. He never bothered
"tucking" as so many other tgirls did because he understood that the reason
his clients came to see him was the very fact he had a huge cock that still
got hard and still pumped copious amounts of cream out when he orgasmed.
He slipped into a pair of white, seamed stockings which he attached to the 6
frilly garters hanging off the bottom of the corset after he'd slipped them
under the thong and then put on his thigh-high pink PVC boots with their
6"white heels and 2" white platforms. He loved these boots because of the
way they laced up the entire front with white satin ribbons.

His tits were forced up and out from the pressure of the corset top and he
loved the way the golden hoops hung down over the top edge of the
restrictive satin garment. He turned to work through the 20 feet of outfits
hanging in his closet and lifted his pink PVC nurse's uniform off its
hanger, slipped it onto his frame and buttoned up the front of it, leaving
the bottom two buttons undone so it opened to expose his wispy panty covered
cock as his thighs moved when he walked. Its bodice was scooped low enough
so the tops of his nipples could be seen. He lifted his white PVC nurses cap
onto blonde tressed head, pinned it in place and put on his white PVC
shoulder length gloves. After a quick check in the mirror, he picked up his
nurses bag and strode out to greet little Billy.

As soon as he had established dominance over his client by hitting his hands
with the crop and cuffing them behind his back, Jenn had put the collar and
leash onto his neck and pulled him into the "hospital" room. Locking the
leash to a wall hook, he uncuffed the Judge and told him to strip naked.
Jenn loved this part of their sessions and always got his first enormous
erection from the slow exposure of Bill's fabulously sexy body. Hard from
working out, with a soft, thick "T" of hair rising from his pubes to his
chest, Jenn gasped anew at the broadness of his muscled shoulders and chest,
the flatness of his stomach and the sheer enormity of his blood-engorged
tool. It had to be 9" of cut, pink, meat, satisfyingly thick so that it
would make him feel "full" when he was being fucked up his rectum but not so
huge that it would cause discomfort. Jenn started to get excited and raised
his crop again so that it landed with a slap on his buttocks.

"You perverted scum... What drives you to degrade yourself this way, you
horny, sick, trannie chasing cock-hound? Can't get enough of sexy little
Jennie's tits can you? You dream of running your fingers through my hair
don't you? You probably think about me every time you help brush out your
daughters' hair too, you sick, cock-hungry, "upright" citizen. But what you
really need is this, isn't loverboy?"

And once again he thrilled at the sight of a grown man standing nude in
front of him, shaking with need, sweat breaking out all over his brow, cock
fully erect and pumping up and down to the rhythm of his heart beat,
groaning out his hunger and need as Jenn spread the two sides of his dress
to fully expose his panty covered girlcock. Bill Stone couldn't stop
shaking. He looked up into his Mistresses eyes and begged her to punish him
for his sick desires and his overwhelming needs.

Two hours and a huge enema followed by a long, sensuous butt-fuck later,
after many sessions of spanking and whipping, binding and cuffing,
humiliation and torment, after the Judge had shot one huge load of cum all
over his chest and stomach which had crusted over while drying where it had
been left, and Jenn had deposited his first enormous load of the evening up
his colon,  Jenn was still looking unruffled and immaculate in her PVC
nurse's uniform. She was lying on a chaise lounge with her legs spread and
in the air while Judge Stone was on his knees with his ankles tied together
and his wrists bound behind his back, moving his salivating mouth from
Jenn's 8" cock to his pink little asshole, alternating between blowing him
and rimming him. All the while, Jenn was using his short cat to whip his
back hard enough to sting but lightly enough not to break his skin. The
sound alone of his groans and grunts of pain from the whipping he was
receiving was taking Jenn almost over the edge so he pushed Judge Stone away
and got to his feet. He didn't want to cum this way. He much preferred to be
the object of his clients' frustrations and anger when he finally freed them
after hours of sexually tormenting them.

Jen could feel the tension and need to release rising in this little
pain-slave. He was also feeling the incredible need that grew in him over
the course of these sessions to be abused himself and shown how much
pleasure can be derived from pain. He kept repeating in his low sexy voice
the kinds of humiliations he knew Judge Stone needed to be driven to the
height of sexual anger.

"Cock hungry cum boy! Queer bait... Yeah huney, you love my cum dripping out
of your ass, don't you big baby? Gonna take it all home to Momma so she can
suck it out of you and feed it back to your hungry mouth?..... She'd like
that wouldn't she?... Cuz she's just a hot little cum whore... Or didn't you
know?..... Oh... Silly me... Did I spill something?... Wasn't I supposed to
tell you about her afternoons whoring her hot little body on the streets for
her crack money?.... Didn't you know that Billybouy's wife is a crack
whore?...... Oh yeah, she loves sucking cock... She loves buying her rocks...
She loves smoking them in darkened tenements and letting animal after animal
take her in her ass and cunt and mouth... And oh lover-boy... You should see
her fuck that great dane... Yeah... on her hands and knees... Legs spread...
his 10 inch prick thrusting in and out of her pussy... and then after cumming
the need for her to stay coupled so her pussy isn't ripped open by his
knot..."

"Or is my little baby gonna go into his daughter's rooms so he can watch
them play with themselves for him while he jacks off? Huh, baby?..... Is
that what you like? Or maybe you need me to come to your chambers to relieve
your needs every day... Oooooo, how much fun!!!!!!    I could come out with
you into the courtroom with your cum dripping off of my face and announce to
them how relaxed you are and ready to hear their cases... And lift up my
skirt to show them what you'll be thinking of while they're pleading for
their lives... Yeah, babydoll... Wouldn't that be fun?.... You fucking little
pig... You are such a filthy worm, aren't you? A scum eating little worm. You
no good, lousy, opium addict... You are such a sick, cock-hungry, cum slut...
Hmm? Maybe we need to take a little drive and go down to the meat district
so you can walk the streets to beg the gayboys to let you suck the thick,
hot cum out of their cocks?.... Doesn't that sound like fun? And I can be
there to open their pants and jack them to full erection and stuff their
tools into your mouth and whip your little pansy ass while you take them to
heaven..."

Jenn knew just when to reach down and undo his ankle and wrist binds so that
he would stand up and slap him hard across the face and then pinch his
nipples and pull his nipple rings till he was standing. Jenn loved it when
the Judge got angry. He loved being taken over his knee and having his dress
lifted up over his ass and feeling the hot, hard, brusing whacks of his hand
coming down onto his up-turned ass. He loved having his asscheeks spread and
feeling the long, hard thrusts of his client's fingers pushing in past his
sphincter and opening up his ass in readiness of the huge, throbbing,
cum-filled prick that would be following soon.

He thrilled at being thrown down onto the floor and having the large bolster
from the chaise tossed under his pelvis so his ass was thrusting up into the
air. His cock would rise to its full height inside his thong as he felt the
spit and lube being massaged into his asspussy and then he would nearly
faint from the feel of his thong material being pulled aside and his lover's
weight pushing down onto him until the pulpy, thick head of his cock had
pushed in past his ring of muscle.

He would thrill to the sound of his lover telling him what a dirty, filthy,
cuntless, queer boygirl he was... That he was the lowest scum on earth, good
only to be a receptacle of all the cum that men could give him... That he
should be working the streets and fucking openly in the back alleys of
Manhattan... That he should be a crack-smoking, heroin-shooting, drugged out,
gutter girl... Doing porno movies in exchange for the drugs he obviously
needed and wanted...

"Here it comes, bitch whore... Daddy is shooting his stuff... Oh yeah,
Jenn-the-jiz-queen... Billy has what you need... Oh baby... Come and get what
Daddy has saved for his slut bitches asscunt..."

The fucking never lasted long enough. The hard, ball-slapping thrusts of his
client's lusting, hammering fucks would barely begin it seemed and the hard,
stinging slaps of his hands brutalizing his upturned asscheeks would barely
start to register in his sex-clouded brain before he would feel his
love-pussy expand as the Judge's cock grew to its bursting point and then
pulse with each hot gob of man-jiz pumping into his stretched rectal canal.

He would lie there in his stupor as he felt the cock soften and pull out
past his sphincter and the wetness of the head leave a trail on the inside
of his asscrack. He would be paralyzed with satiated lust and sexual need
and could do nothing other than lie there and listen as the Judge would get
up, gather his things, get dressed and walk back out to the elevator to go
home to his loving and unsuspecting wife. And while every time he left, Bill
Stone hated himself for having come at all, let alone allowed this
disgusting half woman, half man to say the vile and filthy things he had
said or perform the vile and mind-numbingly filthy acts he had performed, he
knew deep in his soul that within a day or two his insatiable desire, his
unquenchable need would drive him right back.

And Jenn would stay where he had left him on the floor, feeling his lover's
cum slowly leak out of  his ass and dry into a cold, crusty mess on his
thighs and balls and pelvis until he would roll over and slip one of his
stockings down and off his leg. He would then bunch it up and slide it down
over his rock-hard cock until the spongy cockhead hit the toe. He would then
slowly jack his girlcock through the silky softness of the stocking all the
while reliving the physical and verbal abuse he had just suffered until he
had to spew every last bit of sweet cum-custard out to be caught in the
folds of his stocking and his mind would go over the edge into the void of
oblivion that the evening's session and his cumming would induce in him.