I awoke to feel him pushing himself into me. I was on my front. I drew my
head up by pulling my elbows up under my breasts.
"Uhhh, please, not so hard."
He drove his cock back into me knocking the breath out of me.
"You know you love it rough."
No, I thought, you love it rough. I still had a little lube in me from
when he spent himself inside me last night.
"Please Martin, it hurts."
He slowly withdrew, I thought he was going to get off me. He paused, then
forced himself back inside me. My arms gave way, and my face hit the
pillow. My scream was muffled.
I heard him chuckle. He could be so gentle sometimes, but at times like
this I think he knew I was not play acting.
"You love it rough, like a cheap whore."
I lifted my head so I could talk.
"Please Martin, use some lube at least."
He rested his full weight on me, driving me into the bed. His hips
started to rapidly pump into me.
"I.. won't...be ... long.. babe."
I was helpless. He was 6ft 3. I was 5ft 7. He weighed 16 stone. I
couldn't get up if I tried. I gritted my teeth. It felt like a red hot
poker was being used on me. My groin was bouncing into the bed. The
mattress springs squeaked in protest. With one final hard thrust he
finished.
"Wow that was fun babe."
I stung as he withdrew. I felt the cold air of the room replace the void
he left in my poor abused bottom.
"You sure are a hot piece of ass."
With that he slapped my left cheek hard.
"Oww, don't do that I told you I'm not into that!."
I'm sure that would leave a mark.
"Shut the fuck up. Remember who owns this house you bitch."
I hear the shower start and roll onto my back and look on the floor for
my knickers. There just under the window. He must have thrown them there
last night after yanking them off. I get up and pull them up my legs. I
push my small cock back between my legs. He hates seeing a bulge in my
knickers. I look in my mirror. The red lace baby doll looks cheap and
tacky. The lace of the knickers feels scratchy. Not my choice, his.
"I'll be back late tonight, I'm going football with my mates."
He gets dressed and sprays himself in a cloud of cologne.
"You won't want dinner them?"
"No we'll get pizza. You be ready tonight in that red silk dress and
heels. I want you in that black basque I got you last week. Seemed
stockings and French knickers. OK?"
"Yes Martin whatever you want."
I hear the car crunch the gravel on the driveway and climb back into bed.
With tears in my eyes I remember how I got here.
I had crossdressed since I was eight. I wanted to be a girl. I saw
another boy get picked on a bullied at school because he told his friend
he wanted to be a girl. I just took the easy way, and kept quiet.
I got a girlfriend in my teens, she wanted to get married. I knew I
wouldn't be able to dress if I did. I just dumped her.
The second year of my apprenticeship as an electrician the exams seemed
too difficult. I quit and got a job in a factory.
I was made redundant a year later. My money was running out and I met
Martin on a TV/CD contact site. After two dates he asked me to move in.
He would keep me. I wouldn't have to work. It seemed the easy way out so
I took it.
Now I was here, in Martin's large house. He pays for everything. I have
clothes and food. I just have to keep house and be ready for when he
wants sex.
It strikes me. I don't know what I am. Am I his girlfriend, his wife, his
lover, his housekeeper. I eat food paid for by him, but only food he
likes. I wear clothes he pays for, but only clothes he likes. My breasts
he paid for, are the size he wanted. Now I'm trapped in a relationship
with a man that just uses me for sex. I'm like a live in whore.
Is this what it's like for women? Am I finally being the woman I wanted
to be? I trapped and don't know what to do. I know what I'll probably do.
I heard a song in a film once, it was called "We are electricity". I
think it must be true. I realize I've acted like that all my life. I take
the path of least resistance
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