Date: Mon, 02 Feb 2004 10:04:19 -0800
From: Cherysse St. Claire <angelcherysse@hotmail.com>
Subject: Cassandra, Part 2  (Transgender/Transsexual)

                                Cassandra
                          by Cherysse St. Claire
                                 Part II

    The days and weeks seemed to fly by. My new position at Barnes and
Bidwell was a dream come true. It provided me with a cute income to cover my
personal expenses (Melissa took care of most everything), exactly fit my
bubbly, flirtatious personality, and offered me unlimited opportunity to
meet - and have - men! Melissa did everything in her power to reinforce my
bizarre new lifestyle as a nymph. We went to the salon every week and
Melissa made certain every thing about me, from the crown of my hair to the
tips of my long, curving talons, was perfect. About a month after my "coming
out", Melissa took me back to Michelle for another treatment. I was
overjoyed with my bigger titties, swelling hips and tush, prominent
cheekbones and bee-stung lips. "Don't get too fond of this size, My Love,"
Melissa cooed. "You are going to be a LOT bigger!" She dressed me each
morning, taking great delight in fastening my corset around my torso and
lacing my already-slender waist down to a handspan. My lover personally
selected the outfit I would wear, making sure I wore only the sexiest, most
shamelessly revealing dresses, skirts, blouses and suits with stockings and
five- and six-inch stiletto heels. She would stand over me at the vanity and
lovingly direct me to paint and primp in a style befitting a Trailer Trash
Tart, reminding me of all the effort she had gone to transforming me into
her "little slut" and that I had to look and act the part.
    And act the part I did. I played the "office bimbo" to the hilt. I
flirted with all the men, flashed plenty of boobflesh, wiggled my hips
suggestively as I walked by, and traded less-than-subtle sexual innuendoes.
When the bolder ones fondled my nearly-bare boobies or firm, rounded ass, I
cupped my hands over theirs, partially closed my heavily-made-up eyes and
let out a sigh of contentment. It didn't take long for word to spread around
the office that the new receptionist was very "receptive". The storeroom
really DID get a workout - as well as a few private offices. I was always
"saving my pussy for my lover", but only too willing to give them a blowjob
or bend over and take it up the ass. In no time I had all the men wrapped
around my little finger. They were SO
nice and considerate to me and all the other girls; I "suggested" they had
better be if they wanted to go "In Conference" with me.
    I didn't hesitate to "kiss and tell", relating my amorous adventures to
my girlfriends. They gave me no end of good-natured "grief" over the wanton
slut I had become. Even so, they demanded every last, juicy detail of my
trysts. I suspected they were living vicariously through me, reveling in
forbidden passions and pleasures they wouldn't dare pursue themselves. "I
can't believe Melissa lets you get away with this," Suzie clucked, looking
me up and down with mock disapproval. "LETS me," I replied with a wink. "She
MAKES me!" "It's as though she is TRYING to turn you into a whore," Gayle
observed. "Is that what you want?" I smiled, lowered my heavily made up
eyelids, re-crossed my stockinged legs with a slight rasp, and slowly,
expressively thrust out my swelling breasts. My hard nipples showed plainly
through the thin, shiny fabric of my blouse. The eyes of every male in the
cafeteria were on me. "Never mind," Gayle sighed. "I think I got the idea."
"But have you noticed how well-behaved all the guys have been towards us
lately," queried Gwen. "I haven't had even a HINT of a lewd advance in
weeks." "Of course not! They're getting all the pussy they want, thanks to
our little strumpet here," chirped Beth with a wink. "And
we get to hear all about it afterwards. It's almost like being there!"
    I suppose it was inevitable that Grace would call me into her office one
day for "a little chat". She was very cordial as she ushered me into her
office, shut the door, and offered me a chair next to hers. She appraised me
carefully, taking in my dazzling hair, full, firm boobies, tiny waist,
blood-red talons, full, flaring hips, and outrageous makeup and attire with
a long, leisurely sweep of her gorgeous green eyes. She smiled demurely.

    "My, my, Cassandra, you certainly are...DEVELOPING nicely. I couldn't
    help but notice how provocatively you have been dressed and made up
    lately. You have become such an exquisite, exotic creature in such a
    short time. I can just IMAGINE what all the men think, with you looking
    the way you do. You haven't been receiving any UNWANTED advances, have
    you?"


    "No Ma'am, not a one."

    "Good! I would be furious if one of them tried to take advantage of
    you against your will - and in the office to boot! The company simply
    cannot condone that kind of behavior. I have been fully expecting to
    have to discipline some miscreant who stepped out of line with you.
    Even with our strict guidelines, someone is always getting out-of-hand.
    Actually, quite the opposite has occurred. You seem to have an
    incredibly calming influence on the men in the office. They have been
    exceptionally well-behaved with ALL the women since your arrival. They
    are polite, courteous, even gentlemanly. I simply cannot fathom what
    has gotten into them. It's almost as though they were all 'getting
    laid' on a regular basis. You wouldn't have any idea what has gotten
    into them, would you?"

    "No Ma'am, I haven't a clue."

    "No, I didn't think so. Still, our productivity and office morale are
    WAY up, compared to before you began working here. Perhaps it is just
    the way you 'dress up' the office that inspires them. Whatever it is,
    keep up the good work. In fact, you might be in a position to help this
    company immeasurably. I have received so many glowing compliments about
    you from our visitors. Many of them are important, influential
    executives from companies we do business with. These are men of
    considerable power and stature in the business community, men who are
    accustomed to being treated with respect and consideration. So much
    depends on keeping them satisfied with the service our company provides.
    In today's business climate, that not only means millions of dollars in
    revenue, but sometimes the difference between survival and failure. You
    understand what that means, don't you Cassandra?"

    "Yes Ma'am. It means everyone's jobs would be on the line."

    "You are so BRIGHT! I knew you were a perfect fit for this company the
    minute I laid eyes on you. As I was saying, we need to keep these men
    happy. As is the case with other corporations, we provide certain...
    amenities and creature comforts for our special guests to let them know
    we do not take their patronage for granted. A little pampering here and
    there is not too much to provide, in view of the potential returns. We
    maintain a hospitality suite at the Ritz Carlton to relieve them of the
    necessity of securing their own accommodations - which would almost
    certainly be less convenient or less comfortable. We also maintain a
    chauffeured limousine at their beck and call. Cassandra, I want to
    assign someone from the office to act as a kind of 'special liaison' to
    these VIP's when they visit us. I want someone who is attractive,
    intuitive, personable, a real 'people person' who has an instinctive
    feel for the wants and needs of our special guests and the ability to
    satisfy them. I thought of you immediately. Your duties as a
receptionist
    make you a perfect choice. We will just...expand your duties a bit. You
    will accompany our guests around the company, making sure they are
    comfortable and their needs are attended to, escort them to lunch or
    perhaps dinner - at company expense, of course. Naturally, we will
    arrange coverage at the reception desk in your absence and provide you
    with suitable compensation, should your services be required after
    regular business hours. The most important matter is to give your
    undivided attention to our clients' needs. Of course, I would NEVER ask
    you to do anything that was against your principles, but if you could,
    uh, satisfy any of their requests which you deem... REASONABLE, this
    company would be GREATLY appreciative."

    "You can count on me, Ma'am."

Grace beamed a brilliant smile. She stood and offered me a hand up.

    "Splendid! I knew I could. Oh, and one more thing. PLEASE don't call me
    Ma'am; it makes me feel like an old woman. My name is Grace."

Her hand lingered on my arm, then slid down. She gently caressed the back of
my hand with her polished fingernails. I shivered ever-so-slightly at her
touch, stepped forward, pressed my body against hers, guided her arms around
me, then placed my hands delicately on her lapels. "Whatever you
say...Grace," I murmured softly.
    I segued comfortably into my new duties. Grace would let me know a day
or two in advance when a particularly important visitor would be in the
office and require my "special attention". I made certain my hair, makeup,
and nails were extra-special attractive that morning, then slipped into an
especially-alluring outfit that showed off my charms fetchingly. I would
greet our guest in the foyer and give him the "star treatment", beaming my
most radiant smile, hanging on his every word, fetching him coffee and
Danish, escorting him to his meeting.
    A "business lunch" became almost de rigueur on these occasions. It might
be expected that Grace or one of the managers would attend such a luncheon,
but usually it was only the VIP and me; a chance for him to reflect on the
proposals that had been presented, and for me to 'clarify' the company's
position. I would make reservations at some very swank restaurant and
ordered an excellent wine or champagne to accompany our meal. More often
than not, I got pretty tipsy and snuggled up close to my "host". Without
fail, his hands would begin to roam my body, causing my breath to quicken
and my nipples to stand straight out. I would rub his swollen member through
his pants, tell him how proud I was of my company, how important his
continued business was to us, and was there ANYTHING I could do to make his
stay more pleasurable? It was amazing how often - and how fast - we wound up
back at the Ritz "in conference". These "conferences" could take all
afternoon, and sometimes into the evening.
     My life became one long, erotic voyage into the depths of submission
and ultra-femininity. Each month, Melissa took me to Michelle for another
treatment. I was constantly having to buy new, bigger bras. I couldn't
believe how voluptuous I was becoming and Melissa showed no sign of stopping
my development.
    Melissa determined more radical procedures were now in order for her
"little slut-slave". Body piercing had become all the rage in the scene and
Melissa was eager to get me done. I received multiple piercings in my ears,
nipple and navel rings, and a "Prince Albert" through the frenum of my
she-male clitty. My most erotic piercing was the shiny barbell through my
tongue, which drove Melissa mad with passion when I pleasured her orally. In
addition to my night corset, my mistress began strapping my feet into a
special brace apparatus she had read about in one of her bondage magazines.
The braces forced my feet into high, curved arches. At first, it was very
painful as my feet were arched into that unnatural position. Each night, she
adjusted the straps a little tighter, making the arch a little more acute.
As time progressed, my feet adapted permanently to this new geometry. Where
before my feet ached ferociously after a few hours in high heels, now I wore
spike heels all day without discomfort. In fact, I could no longer walk or
even stand unless I was wearing the highest of heels. Transformed as I was,
it seemed only natural when Melissa took me to a urologist collegue of hers
and had my shrunken, useless little testicles removed. I didn't miss them at
all, and my smaller, smoother clitty became so easy to tuck away
inconspicuously.
    Mistress took a fancy to showing off her "pet" to her friends in The
Scene. We would each be bizarrely made up and dressed, Mistress as Supreme
Leather Bitch and myself as a latex or PVC slut. My scenewear was
specially-constructed to proudly reveal my magnificent mammaries and plump,
rounded tush to our many admirers. My wrists would be bound in padded cuffs
and clipped securely to D-rings at my corseted hips. I glided effortlessly
on six-inch stiletto-heeled shoes or boots. Mistress would lead me by a
leash clipped to a wide collar fastened around my throat. Mistress loved to
'play', spanking or whipping me in front of an always-aroused audience. I
often orgasmed spontaneously, lost in a dream world of pleasure-pain.
Afterward, Mistress encouraged her friends to fondle my ripe body and
frequently loaned me out to another Mistress or Master, that I may pleasure
them in the ways I had learned so well.
    Everyone in the office was excited about the coming of another
Halloween. The company party this year was to be more elaborate; an evening
affair with buffet dinner, open bar, music, and games. This was, in part,
the company's way of saying "thanks" for a just-ended fiscal year, which saw
sales and profits at an all-time high. There would be the obligatory costume
contest, of course, but this year there was a new twist. We weren't to wear
our costumes to work that day. Instead, we would go home after work, change,
then come back for the party. We each published anonymous clues in the
company newsletter, distributed the afternoon of the party, hinting at who
we were and what we would be dressed as. The contest involved matching the
clues to the employee and correctly identifying the costume before the
event. There would be prizes for best costume (of course), accurately
guessing the most employee/costume combinations, and
for any employee who could stump everyone.
    I had bittersweet emotions about the whole affair. We received word that
Debbie would return from her maternity leave on the First of November. I
suddenly saw my "perfect life" coming to a rapid end. I knew that my
position was only intended to be temporary, but I loved it so. I wanted it
to go on forever! I didn't know WHAT I would do now. I couldn't go back to
being "Matt"; physically, temperamentally, and emotionally, he just wasn't
part of me anymore. I didn't really need a job - Melissa could provide for
us comfortably - but I couldn't see leaving Barnes and Bidwell and all my
friends. I wanted to go all out for what I perceived to be my 'last hurrah'.
Melissa offered a suggestion; simple, elegant - and completely "over the
top". I loved it! After hours of careful deliberation, I submitted the
following poem for publication in the newsletter's contest:

     "I'm not what you think, nor would ever conceive
     to appear before you on this All Hollow's Eve.

     A name from the past will return once again
     Tho you'd never connect thoughts of me now and then.

     A choice has been made and the die has been cast,
     now I'll never return to that life in the past.

     A face you know well, with a form you know better,
     appears to you now bound within Passion's fetter.

     Yet all things must pass and our lives must move on,
     remember me kindly when all's said and done.

    The speculation over this poem began the moment the newsletter was
distributed. Some thought it was me by process of elimination; they had
already matched clue to name for just about everyone else. The rumors ran
rampant all week what costume/character I was alluding to. The guesses ran
from Jesus Christ ("She made references to the Second Coming and The
Passion"), to the ghost of Jacob Marley ("He was pretty passionate about the
chains that bound him; remember that wail?"), to the reincarnation of
Marilyn Monroe ("That's a no-brainer." "Nah, it's too obvious." "So? What's
subtle about HER?") Some hopeless
romantics read way too much between the lines and announced with Absolute
Certainty that I would be dressed as Jesus, but had gotten engaged and would
be showing off my "rock". So much for Conventional Wisdom.
    Melissa and I arrived fashionably late for the party. The drinks had
already been flowing and everyone appeared to be in a festive mood. We love
to "make an entrance", and really out-did ourselves this time. We wore
matching floor-length black velvet capes and each wore a half-mask that
covered only the features on the upper half of the face. Melissa's mask was
black kidskin and resembled a cat's face, with pointy ears and wide openings
that revealed her heavily made up green eyes. My black patent mask was that
of a doe; delicate, graceful, and completely at the mercy of the "cat". The
buzz in the room stilled as two men took our wraps. Hushed anticipation was
followed by stunned silence.

    "Oh, my GOD!"

    Mistress's dominatrix outfit was brief and elegant. A black kidskin
bustier corset dress molded and shaped her toned body, pushing up her plump
breasts and whittling her trim waist to a hand span. Matching kidskin gloves
enveloped her arms from fingertip to shoulder. The dress's hem barely
covered the swell of her asscheeks and an observant admirer would have no
trouble discerning her bare, neatly-trimmed bush. The tops of her black,
stay-up stockings were visible over the rim of her thigh-high, black
calfskin boots. These magnificent boots laced up the front and perched my
lover high on five-inch spike heels. Her favorite Heartwood flogger hung in
its position from her chain belt, within easy reach of her gloved right
hand.
    Her left hand held the leash attached to the black patent collar around
my neck. My costume was even more minimalist - and striking. A shiny
black-patent-leather Paul C corset hugged my torso from breastbone to hip,
compressing my waist to twenty-two inches. Sheer black seamed stockings
caressed my slim, shapely legs from toe to thigh and were held in place by
garters attached to my corset. I was perched high on open-toed, black patent
ankle-strap sandals with six-inch stiletto heels. My arms were enclosed in
black patent fingerless gloves which extended from the backs of my hands to
my shoulders, leaving my blood-red, two-inch curved talons exposed. My
wrists were encircled by black patent cuffs which were clipped securely to
D-rings at my diminutive waist. Matching cuffs encircled my ankles and were
connected by a twelve-inch chain, hobbling my gait to delicate, diminutive
steps. A slim silver chain dangled between my nipple
rings. My firm, bouncy DD breasts jiggled sweetly as I stepped, matched by
my delicate, pierced little clitty. Even through my mask, my whorishly-done
makeup stood out. No other garments or adornments spoiled the view of my
magnificent
body - save one. A small, plastic rectangle was pinned to my corset. It was
a company I.D. card, bearing the photo and name of Matthew Monroe,
Information Services Department.
    They handled it very well for non-scene people. Grace broke the initial
stunned silence, introducing herself to Mistress and greeting her warmly.
They then turned their attention to me.

    "I must say, Melissa, you have done a marvelous job transforming
    Cassandra. She is such a voluptuous, sensual, and very-willing
    creature now."

    "Thank you, Grace. I have created many slut-slaves in the past, but
    Cassandra is the apple of my eye. She is so beautiful, so submissive,
    so devoted, so utterly depraved, I cannot imagine ever giving her up.
    Is everything prepared?"

    "Yes, we set up the equipment just as you requested. I can't wait to
see the show!"

    Without further ado, Mistress led me to one corner of the room. An
X-frame rack had been set up, and Mistress wasted no time unclipping my arms
and legs an re-clipping them to the large rings at the four corners of the
rack. She fanned her whip in a circular motion, repeatedly grazing my plump
asscheeks with the multiple thongs. After she had "warmed" the flesh in this
manner, she began to use the whip in earnest.
    Slowly, lovingly, Mistress began laying on the lash. She kept an
irregular rhythm, whipping different areas each time, that I not know when
or where the next lash would fall. She stopped at intervals, fondled my
breasts, my clitty, my sizzling assflesh, whispering a stream of obscenities
in my ear.

    "Does it feel good, Slut? Are you getting turned on? Too bad you can't
    see all the men watching you, lusting for you. Every, single one has a
    hard-on! Do you like that, Cunt? Does it excite you to know that all
    those men want your hot ass, want to fuck the Cunt with the big boobs,
    want to thrust their meat into your ass and pump and pump and pump
    until they flood your tush with their jism? Would you like that,
    Pussy-Boy? I bet you would. I bet you want nothing more than to do
    every man here. I think I will set you up in a conference room after
    we're done here. I'll have all the men come in, one by one, and fuck
    your mouth, fuck your punk ass, fill you up with their jism. And you
    know what? You will take it all and LOVE it like the good little whore
    you are -won't you?"

I came, thrashing and screaming like a madwoman. Mistress pressed against
me, caressing my tingling flesh, cooing softly in my ear.
    When I had recovered my senses, Mistress released me from the rack,
re-clipped my wrists to my corset and re-attached my hobble chain. She led
me from group to group, sipping champagne (pouring mine for me), conversing
with everyone, encouraging them to fondle my body and examine even my most
private parts. Even my girlfriends caressed me lovingly, as if it were the
most natural thing in the world for them. Mistress let everyone know I was
theirs for the having, in any way they wanted me.
    And want me, they did. The Executive Conference Room became my
"boudoir". I think I did just about every man in the company - and many of
the women. The positions became a blur; kneeling before one man and sucking
him off, bending over the conference table to take another deep inside me,
leaning over Grace - who was lying on the conference table - and eating her
to a thundering orgasm, climbing on top of a man in the same position and
riding him to release. People would come and go freely, watching the
unbelievable sex show unfolding before their eyes. I knew no shame; at last,
I was free to reveal the wanton slut I was, in all my debauched glory!
    No, I didn't win a prize. Nine people - my eight girlfriends and Grace
- had guessed that I would be costumed as Mistress's slut-slave. I don't
think any of them had guessed the extent of my depravity until they actually
witnessed it with their own eyes. Even so, I won the best prize of the
evening. After all the other prizes had been awarded, Grace motioned for
silence and spoke:

    "On behalf of everyone here at Barnes and Bidwell, I want to offer our
sincere thanks to the 'entertainment committee'..."

The room exploded in laughter.

    "...for their unusual and highly-creative show. This party is certainly
one
    for the books - and if ANYONE breathes a word of this outside this
office,
    they will be fired on the spot!"

More laughter.

    "And now for a more serious note. As everyone knows, Debbie will return
from
    maternity leave on Monday. All things must pass, and we must bid a fond
    farewell to our 'temp' here. But I would be a candidate for 'early
    retirement' if I threw away the talents of someone we have come to know
-
    and love - so well."

This time, the laughter shook the walls.

    "I have to admit I was skeptical when Gwen first approached me about
hiring
    Cassandra. There had already been tension among some of you regarding
Matt
    Monroe. Although I hated the thought of losing his services, his
departure
    was inevitable. I fully expected the subsequent appearance of
'Cassandra' to
    be an even more disruptive influence. But we were in a bind with
Debbie's
    sudden departure and Gwen was persistent. I was at least willing to give
it
    a try for a little while, to see how things went. I wasn't prepared for
the
    exquisite young woman I met at the door that first morning. I daresay
that,
    until this night, many of you had no idea - and still can't believe it.
In
    the past three months, Cassandra has proven herself to be capable,
    efficient, and personable; a real asset to our company. All the women in
the
    company adore her, and the men - well, it seems she has, in her own way,
    single-handedly wiped out sexual harassment in our workplace. Our
    productivity is at an all-time high. In addition, she not only prevented
two
    major accounts from canceling their contracts, she is largely
responsible
    for the acquisition of three others. The Home Office has rewarded me
with a
    Vice-Presidency for our outstanding performance this year, and I intend
to
    give credit where credit is due. I am hiring Cassandra as a permanent
    employee. Beginning Monday, she will report to Gwen in Human Resources.
I am
    creating a new position for her, that of 'Special Assistant for Business
and
    Office Operations'. It sounds like a mouthful and, to be honest, we
haven't
    quite , er, fleshed out her official job description. I don't doubt for
a
    moment that Cassandra will find her place - and throw herself into her
    duties with enthusiasm!"

    So my dream job - and life - WILL go on. Grace was right; "Special
Assistant for Business and Office Operations" IS a mouthful. How appropriate
for a girl like me. No one in the office refers to me as the "Office Slut" -
at least, not openly. I would not be offended if they did. It is what I am
and I am beyond shame. After eight sessions with Michelle, Melissa has
informed me that she is satisfied with my development - at least for now. I
can never be sure with Melissa. I am proud of my 44FF-22-38 figure. I wear
custom-made underwire shelf bras that cradle my spectacular breasts and lift
them high up on my chest - that is, unless I want even more drama and go
braless. My wide hips undulate suggestively. It has become a completely
natural motion, as if they had a mind of their own. I am cinched into
heavily-boned corsets twenty-four hours a day - an absolute must to relieve
the pressure on my back caused by my massive tits and six-inch heels. I have
the most fantastic wardrobe of the tightest, sexiest, most revealing
dresses, skirts, blouses, and business suits, all specially tailored to make
the most of my ultra-womanly figure. Some - especially the suits with
longer, snug-fitting skirts - are designed with Velcro closures, just like a
stripper's costume! That makes them so easy to get in and out of - an
absolute MUST in my position.
    I have my own office in a quiet corner of Human Resources. I have a
beautiful desk, plants, artwork on the walls, and a large, comfy, padded
leather couch. Grace gave me my own secretary so I can keep my long, lovely
nails salon-perfect. It seems I am always "In Conference" and not to be
disturbed - either with an employee who "needs to take the edge off" or a
client (current or potential) who requires a little "nudge" to close a big
contract. I can be VERY persuasive!