[Fiction] The trip

[CSasha]

We had met a couple of weeks ago online via getDare. Some messages went back and forth, and then we moved over to Kik. He dared me and was a fantastic top. Especially afterwards we had some more conversations, way beyond or kinks, though returning to them again.

He was looking for a sub with no limits, even had an Ad out there and in his signature. But he was looking for someone really without any limits. His limits were still in line, which were social death and mutiliation. He was a pretty clever and reasonable guy. At least that was my strong impression from our many serious talks about anything.

We both knew most people stating they had no limits just didn't know. Everyone had limits, well at least nearly everyone. As my detailed Likes/Dislikes list showed, I had mine, but at least I was aware of them. Looking for someone really without limits was like looking for the needle in a haystack. No, even worse. More like looking for the most gigantic diamond on earth. At the same time it was something special.

My online friend was most curious about having such a person without restraints at his mercy, pushing beyond the usual limits. Being mean, cruel, reckless. It wasn't going to be about the single acts or results. Rather he liked to feel the power, having someone acting over his or her very self-interest, forgetting dignity, safety, the own needs. Just for the sake of serving him. Without limits. Without any rejections. To everything he would come up with, as long as he wanted. I suspected him to be very creative. He was eager for that moment when they started to plead and beg for emrcy. What I could understand from my experience was the self-confirmation by others giving themselves up for yourself, though that only seemed completely on the surface. Most people were driven by their kinks and desires, to be valued as the gift they wanted to be. To be taken.

I felt a strong sympathy for my online friend in his special desire. I knew it's fulfillment would be very unlikely. Still I kept an open eye for people with 'no limits' and pointed them towards his ad. It didn't help. Not even one in a thousand. After a couple of month we forgot about that topic.

But in a phase of incredible horniness, we talked again, and I agreed to come over to him for my three weeks of vacation. The details of that opportunity fit so well together, it was just too tempting. I remembered how attentive he had been as a top, so I wanted to try for real, this time live and local. He told me his rough location and I figured out the details of the trip. Nearly eight hours, though I live in a big city in Germany. The flight to Great Britain was the quickest part. The longest were the several train and bus tracks deep within the country side.

We hadn't put down any details regarding any service to him yet. There was already so much to ask and organize, I delayed figuring that out over a cup of tea or chocolate when we were going to be face to face. He told me to only care for the trip towards him, not back yet. We would see how it worked out and then care for the back travel together. It seemed quite reasonable to me, given the fact that I could immediately return if something felt wrong. He also told me to only come with the male clothes I was wearing, stuffing my suitcase with female cloth, crossdressing equipment and toys alone. I knew he was more into girls than guys, but what don't we do for a kink in lack of the prefered sex. Anyway the connection felt still quite strong, heart, soul and the powerful mind being much more important than some details of the body. Gender was more something to fiddle with, good for humiliation. Still I had completely waxed my body and facial hair and used creams to soften my skin ever since I knew about the trip. To me it was some kind of small tribute to his doing so far, a tiny sacrifice of effort and temporary body modification. Once it was done I felt happy and proud about it, not for me, but because I hoped it would make him happy. For my own kink I had put on chastity device and trained to leave it on over night and day. I suspected that to make a large part of my ongoing arousal.

Now I stood at my last bus stop, in the middle of nowhere. The street was surround by wood and hills, a small hut the only building to see. When I send him a Kik message that I finally had arrived, he replied: "Good. You should see a hut there. Go change in there. Don't worry, no people are going to be around from here on. I have put a wooden box in there, including a small mirror and a lock. Put on your complete cross-dressing. Make yourself pretty. The red shining high heels you got. No wig. Make yourself two braided pigtails instead. Put your male cloth into the box and seal it with the lock." I went towards the hut, when I got a second message: "Near the hut is a small path. It only leads into one direction. That's how you get to me. Take it as a welcome present that you have to walk that mile. In your high heels of course. Also, your mobile connection is going to fade out soon. But take your time. I'll be waiting for you."

I did indeed find that wooden box with the mirror and the lock. No key. So I replied: "Alright. Till soon." I had last doubts. It was still daylight. What if someone saw me? Even if my cross-dressing would give me a passing as a woman, when I had to talk it would be obvious, besides my German accent. A little bit of anxious about what all could happen to me kicked in, and feeded my arousal even more. Doing all this, whoring myself out as a slave, submitting to humiliating actions, becoming an object for another person's satisfaction. There were many people shaking there heads about such behavior, including lots of my friends. On the other hand it was my human right to live out my sexuality, whatever it might be, as long as I obeyed the law. Yes, I was finally going to do it. So brushed away all doubts and continued.

Finally I was dressed as a woman. Nicely braided pigtails at the side with pink ribbons, complete make-up sexy, but not too slutty for now. Two of the things I had had to train to do well. Big fake-breasts set in place with medicial tape. A corset with garters and overknee stockings. A violet long shirt, my favorite black mini skirt, and the red shining high heels as requested. My male cloth were in the locked box, and I didn't have the key.

Though I had done my research on transsexuality and transition I knew I didn't want to be a woman. A man neither, but that was another issue. I was fine with the body I had, fortunate with the average height and weight, unfortunate with still significant male features like the configuration of my bones. At least I had a very broad pelvis, more pear than apple.

The reasons I dressed as a woman for somebody else, with his knowledge, and to sexually submit to him, were those of commitment and humiliation. Despite all outcries and efforts for equality, beneath the illusionary curtain of equality laws and good manners, we are still stuck in labels like men and women, with according expectations and predjudices attributed. "Throwing like a girl". Women are still seen to be physical inferior, in truth even inferior at all. That's why there's no "Ignorant as a boy" or other things. And with that comes that the fucking stud is appreciated, applauded and envied. Fucking much and many as a male gives you relations to "Don Juan" or "Casanova". But being fucked in any hole is something degrading. As strange as it sounds once you experienced how awesome it can be to be intruded, ridden, driven to climax, orgasm after orgasm. Or to make someone or several people happy with your holes. Anyway society regards being fucked as degraded, shameful even. Let's not speak about it. Of course women are destined to be fucked. Women are supposed to be the inferior being fucked. If she fucks often and many partners, we call her a "slut", a "whore", a "bitch". Worse if she gives a blowjob, or a deepthroat even. Being forcefully throatfucked. Being taken. Swallowing cum. Worse with anal. And there's much more of that. So by dressing myself as a woman for exactly those roles, those activities, I submit. Somehow it was a relief to me to embrace my own little "bitch", as someone regarded as a man. I feel sympathy with the women being unfairly seen and treated. I feel the need to punish myself as a compensation. It arouses me to put myself low.

With a sensation of pressure in my chastity device I started my walk, struggling with my high heels on the poor path, rolling my suitcase behind me. My body was rushed with horny excitement.

Fortunately the path through the woods had been as empty as he had written me. Still there was the excitement, the tension of possibly being seen in my outfit, then probably even talked to. I wasn't used to walk in the high heels, especially for such a long walk on bad ground. I estimated it to have taken me a good hour, all while my thoughts were wandering around the vast possibilities, fantasies of mine, dreams and nightmares of what my host may do with me.

When I saw the house at the end of the path, I took a deep breath. Still time to run, but so far I had made great commitments to get here. Besides the nervousness I was also horny as hell, eager to live out parts of my fantasies. Longing for being degradingly fucked, and possibly tendered after a session of agony in the hands of my online friend. Now for real. So I used the cheap girl's parfume I had bought and moved on.


Then I discovered it was a semi-detached house, two entries, seemingly both inhabited. He hadn't told me any house number or family name. And besides, when would the other people be or come at home. Were they on vacation or was I in risk to be seen? What if was going to cry or moan in the house? Would the neighbors hear us? I slightly blushed. Time to knock and get to know how my friend cared for these sorrows of mine.

Just when I noticed I didn't even know where to knock or ring, the left door opened. An average sized man in blue t-shirt and jeans stood there and smiled at me, hands in his pockets. As I approached I mustered a high pitched, quietly "Hello.". He had that knowing glow of the excited insider in his eyes: "Welcome sexy bitch." Now he grinned all over his cheeks. When I passed him into the house, his hand clapped on my ass. The compliment accompanied by the objectification gave me a push of confidence. As wrong as it had felt every now and then, in this moment it felt so right and wonderful, rewarded me with a warm smile of my heart which held on.

When my host pointed me towards the living room, I noticed only one chair standing by the small table. "Kneel there.", he ordered me, so I put myself down on the floor, right in front of a standing mirror he had pointed in front of. He took my suitcase inside and inspected it, while starting our conversation: "You must be tired from the long journey. I make us a tea. Meanwhile wait and only look into the mirror."

He was right about my tiredness, but my reflection in the mirror gave me a second wind. The training in make-up had totally payed off, as well as the frequent skin and face creaming. My outfit emphasized my teasing body. I was a little proud, but wondered what my host was thinking about the other lingerie, cuffs, gags, plugs, dildos and other toys I had brought with me. I had some flash thoughts about him taking one of these and using it right away. But I was glad he didn't, since I needed some time to dare myself into. He went away into the kitchen, leaving me in front of the mirror with the picture of myself kneeling on the floor in provoking women cloth, as well as my dirty fantasies running wild.

My host took his time, but then returned providing me a cup of tea, and seating himself in front of me with one of his own. Drinking our tea, he smiled down at me. When I looked at him he corrected me once more: "Look into the mirror, slut. I will tell you when you may or have to look at me. Also, from now on, you will address me with 'Sir'. Understood, slut?" I was a bit in a shock, having though we would talk more liberately first. But I was also aroused by this: "Yes, Sir."

Somehow I felt more comfortable now, having get used to the environment, having had a hot tea. Since my bladder signaled me, I asked myself where the bathroom might be, but also how to properly ask for it. Apparently my host did notice my intentions and told me: "The bathroom is over there. But you won't go there until I order or intentionally permit you to. If you cannot hold it anymore, you will have to let it go where and how you are. But I recommend you hold at least until we are in the cellar, or I had to punish you for the mess you bothered me with." Still looking into the mirror, aware of him looking right at me, I gulped. I had peed myself in cloth once a couple of years ago, just to try it out, but that had been alone. My host waited some more minutes until he lead me into the cellar, holding my arm to help be keep balance, since I still had my heels on: "Always look down on the floor until told otherwise."

The cellar was plain and simple, without windows only illuminated by a blank light bulb. A larger table stood in the middle, some chairs at the walls away from it, accompanied by some piles of wooden or plastic boxes. Then he ordered me to undress everything but the lingerie and shoes. I obeyed, being concerned if my crossdressing was good enough with that. Though he seemed satisfied, he didn't touch or grope me, nor reveal anything of his parts. By what I could see from the corner of my eyes my host was watching me from all sides.

Then he exchanged my undressed cloth with a stack of grey cloth: "Put this on, bitch." I quickly resonded: "Yes, Sir.", unfolded them and put them on. It turned out to be a gemale German uniform of past times, complete with peaked cap, button-down shirt, tie, jacket, skirt including the according insignia. When I was done, he walked around me, adding a flattening or polishing touch of his hands here and there: "Suits you well, bitch. Maybe a bit tight there, but you'll just have to bear it."

Time passed, and I had to increasingly press my bladder together, making me uneasy. On the other hand everything that had happened so far had surprised me. The present play as well as the unknown action ahead aroused me to unused content. Sir took me by my arm and back and lead me to the table. He bend me over it: "Let me fix you properly. That's German culture, to do things properly and orderly, isn't it, slut?" I breathed heavier while he restraint my limbs to the table. "Yes, Sir." He also fixed my head and finally put my biggest open mouth gag in. I had tinkered it myself, since the commercial ones were way too small for the big dildos I wanted to take by it, probably due to the restrictions of the common jaw, I suspected by experience. Though my play master contained himself, I noticed his excited breath and voice: "Let's have a little roleplay. You look fabulous for it, and I have just the right partner."

Partner? What did he say? I thought he would exploit and abuse me himself. Alone. Especially for the start. As little as I knew him, my host wasn't a stranger to me at least. We had talked frequently over the course of hours and weeks, though only online. Sir positioned himself right in front of me, still completely dressed: "Look at me now, bitch. And keep it that way. I like to enjoy your face, and the emotions in your eyes. Don't you dare to close them." I did as told. There wasn't much to look at anyway. His smile didn't run wide, but it was deeply rooted. He picked up a cup of tea and took a sip while watching me. "I cannot tell you how wonderful your vulnerability is for me right now. But it is going to get even better."

Then his eyes got distracted to someone behind me, probably the stairs. A dark, male voice from their asked: "Is that her?" Sir's eyes returned to my face: "She's all yours." Now he grinned the whole broadside, explaining to me: "This is my neighbor, honey. Not a very kinky man, but he loves German ass." I couldn't believe I had given up ass to my master, only to be used by a complete stranger first. It felt embarrassing, like a was a piece of meat given away for nothing. But it also felt so hot. Since my head was still fixed, I couldn't see anything of the stranger. Instead I bit my gag, looked at my master as ordered, and groaned when the man behind me rammed right into me. It hurt. Would I not have been bound, I would have immediately resisted and physically rebelled the whole situation, shaking of the repeated painful intrusion. But this way I couldn't. The strange man just continued at his pleasure. It took him only some heavy slow drills with some supportive spits until he accelerated into a high, wild pace. Sir didn't interact at all, but was happily watching. His smile intensified everytime I reacted to the change of depth and pace I was being fucked at. In between the man behind me slapped my ass, but more often he pulled my hair to put more of his strength possibly rough into me, worked into me like a horse, and put me in painful misery in my restraints, making me feel them again strangeling my flesh. I heard him moan from time to time. It might have been my time passing slower due to all the painful sensations in this humiliating situation I had, in constant look to Sir in front of me and him gleefully gazing back. But to me that neighbor of him showed quite some endurance, in the strong thrusts, the high paces and the length of time he kept that up. Then I just couldn't hold it anymore. Still in that grey uniform and my lingerie I pissed myself, a pressured stream leaking through my chastity device. Easily noticed, the stranger gave it only a short break of pacing down: "Look, the bitch squirts. That's why I love these anal Kraut's. Just lovely. You disrespectfully fuck the shit out of them, and they just cum. Like made for servicing us." He had a big laughed, joined in calmly by Sir, still looking into me.

Finally he was done, pulling out once and for all: "Well, cleaned in the rear, your little slut here." My anus hurt all over, as well as several muscles and joints of mine. My streched jaws cried to me. Strangely enough I still wished Sir would at least put out his cock, using my mouth. Why else was it kept open, if not for abuse? Pain was less a fetish of mine, only mildly in use for humiliation. Being disregarded. Anyway that's what they did, in their own way.

Chatting to each other, Sir and his neighbor left the cellar, switched out the light, and left me alone still restraint in the dark. While I felt the cum pouring out and down my legs, Sir still appointed some words to me: "See you later, bitch. Much later. But don't let yourself down. We'll give you plenty of attention and creativity in the weeks to come." Both laughed and continued the banter, fading away from me.


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[jou]

Nice story keep it going that way