Petra Jane Story Site

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 I am now making all my money strictly from forcing lowly slaves to grovel at my feet. I'll take anyone into my dungeon, be they male or female, but it is fellow crossdressers that I prefer to humble the most. Yes, that is right. I said fellow crossdressers. What? You don't think your Mistress is really a male, and not the beautifully vicious vixen you're viewing? Let me tell you my story...
 
 
 I had been a crossdresser for all of my adult life, having started while puberty was just making its first changes. For all I know, it may have been a slight variation in hormones that made me go from a boy to a man who loved looking like a woman. I usually just dressed at home to excite myself, but occasionally I would go to a dominatrix who would make me change while degrading me for being such a sissy. I don't know why I was so willing to give my money to someone who was only making me think of myself as a baseless fool. That is probably part of the whole background of myself and many other TV's. We just feel a need to be degraded.
 
 Two years ago at this time, just before Halloween, I was getting the usual yearly longings to join in all the costuming and let my feminine side stand out. Well, at the parties, anyway. I still wouldn't dream of dressing in public for all the world to see. I did get the urge to visit another dom, though, and started looking through the ads that were in the back of one of the CD newspapers. One ad in particular caught my eye, because I had a fetish for high heeled boots. Mistress Monique said in her ad that she could turn any slave into a whimpering whore. It was her picture that really got me. She was dressed from head to toe in glossy black vinyl, with thigh high boots that had impossibly high heels. I noted the phone number, and later that day, made an appointment that would forever change my life.

 The address that I was given turned out to be a split-level house in what looked like a quiet neighborhood. I had been told to arrive no later than 9 o'clock sharp, so to be safe, I parked my Saab along the curb out front at quarter to nine. What's that you say? A Saab?
 
 Oh, did I forget to tell you that until that fateful night I was making a living quite nicely as an online stock broker? My name was well-known, but almost no one could put a face to that name. I made all my money at home, and only rarely went to business functions that gave others a chance to meet the elusive James T. Brooks. Of course, working at home also allowed me to work en femme occasionally, should I get the urge, and the bucks I made allowed me to build up quite a wardrobe. I had plenty of dresses and skirts, but never had enough nerve to get any really daring clothes. For really daring outfits, I went to Mistresses who had a large wardrobe of their own.
 
 That's why I was parked in front of the split-level that evening. I looked at my gold Swiss watch as I approached the door, and wondered if right on time would have been better. I decided to ring the doorbell anyway, since the Mistress was probably waiting for me.
 
 I saw the peephole on the door get dark as an eye came to it to check on the visitor, and moments later the door was opened inwards. I stepped inside, and saw a beautiful woman in a bathrobe with her red hair wound up on top of her head. "You are a bit early, slave. I was just getting ready for your visit when I heard the doorbell. You will have to wait in the dungeon while I finish." Her voice sounded a bit rough, but I attributed that to a hard day. "Follow me, James," she continued, "and be a good slave or I will find even more to punish you for than getting here before I was ready!"
 
 I was lead to a door which opened to a dark stairwell going down. The light switch was flipped up before I stepped in, and I gasped momentarily at the sight below me. I was descending into what looked like a true medieval dungeon! As she was closing the door behind me, Mistress said, "Look around all you'd like, slave, but don't touch. I want to introduce you to all the toys myself. Be a good little boy!"
 
 I just couldn't resist, and besides looking, I softly fingered some of the hard steel rings and poles, the softer but not delicate leather straps and cushions, and the smooth rubber on innumerable implements of sadomasochistic depravity. I made sure to lot leave any fingerprints or streaks, and could only gaze in awe at what I would presumably be subjected to in a short time. I was about to sit atop one of the saw horses when I saw the closets along one wall.
 
 The first set of doors I opened revealed a number of wigs on wig stands, masks and hoods of all kinds. There were also a few costumes like French Maids and Nurses in a number of sizes in both latex and vinyl. I shook my head, and could only wish for what my Mistress might have planned. I closed that closet before any temptations could make me go into scenes I did not want to visualize.
 
 It was a different matter when I opened the next set of doors. This closet had a large number of shelves, all holding stiletto heeled shoes of all kinds of colors and sizes. I gasped upon first sight. Then I lowered my eyes a bit, and saw the collection of boots set up on the floor of the cabinet. These were again of all kinds of colors and styles, but all were in the same size. I had to come to the conclusion that the Mistress put her slaves into whatever shoes were needed, but the boots were part of her own wardrobe. I could not resist, and picked up a pair of black knee high boots to see what the size was.
 
 Impossible! These boots were all in exactly the same size as all my own female shoes back at the house.
 
 I put the boots back down, but temptation won this time. I picked them back up and brought them over to the sawhorse. I took off my own shoes and socks, revealing the nylon anklets I'd worn underneath. I slipped my left foot into the boot, and couldn't believe the arch it went into. I zipped it up, marveling at how it hugged my calf. The right boot was then put on, and I tried standing up. I had some tall heels at home, but these were at least six inches, and I wobbled a bit.
 
 I was just starting to sit back down when I heard the door at the top of the stairwell opening. In a panic, I started to unzip the left boot. I managed to jam the zipper in my haste. The zipper on the right boot was halfway down when my ears were stunned.
 
 "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, SLAVE?!"
 
 I stopped zipping and looked up. I saw the very image that had lured me in the ad. Mistress was dressed in a tight, formfitting black vinyl bodysuit, matching shoulder length gloves, and thigh high black boots with impossible heels. Her vibrant red locks were now hanging freely down her back, and even with the domino mask covering her eyes, the look on her face made the wicked makeup seem all the more vile. Her legs were spread wide, and her balled fists were nesting in her wasp waist.
 
 "I...I...er, I was looking in the closet and saw all those shoes and boots. When I saw that the boots were in my size, I just had to see what it felt like to wear them. I'm sorry, Mistress. I just couldn't resist. I know that I must now take my punishment..." My voice dropped to a mumble as I hung my head.
 
 "Oh, so you wanted to see what my boots felt like, did you? What on earth made you think that you were worthy of trying on my boots, you worthless scum?! Well, you're going to be punished, all right. If you wanted to see what it felt like to wear your Mistress' boots, I'm going to make sure you know well! Get those boots off, NOW, and get out of those worthless clothes."
 
 The zippers worked fine now that I was being more patient, and I was careful to put them back just where I'd found them, hoping to appease my Mistress. I quickly shucked my pants and shorts, then unbuttoned my shirt. I was starting to stand again when I was told, "Get those anklets off, too! When I say to get out of your clothes, I mean ALL your clothes." Was her voice getting huskier as she got more irate?
 
 "I was originally going to introduce you to the pleasures of this dungeon, slave. You apparently have already made those introductions yourself, so now the plan changes. Get your scrawny ass upstairs, and don't dawdle!" She grabbed a crop that just seemed to suddenly be at hand, and smacked my butt as I went by. I wasn't prepared, and yelped at the stinging sensation. "Oh, you think that hurts, do you, slave? Poor baby, you just wait!"
 
 I was led to her bathroom, which was still a bit steamy from the shower she'd taken just before my arrival. As I watched, Mistress filled the tub with tepid water, and added a sweet smelling pink fluid when the water stopped. This made the water foam, and I assumed it was sudsy soap to cleanse my body. "Get into the tub, James. Slide in until all of you is under except your head." I was more than a bit puzzled about this use of my given name instead of 'slave', but had little time to ponder it.
 
 Mistress Monique slipped a pair of rubber gloves over her vinyl ones, and the bright yellow stood out from the black insanely. She grabbed a wash sponge, and started to scour my softening skin with it. I could feel what was happening, even if I couldn't see it. That wasn't soap in the water, it was a depilatory! My skin was being turned into a silky-smooth texture that I'd never before felt. It may have been that smooth when I was a baby, but my memories didn't go back that far. When every hair was gone, Mistress pulled the plug to let the water drain.
 
 After the hair refuse had been cleared from the trap over the drain, Mistress pulled the shower curtain closed and told me to rinse off. I felt how smooth I now was as I palmed myself in the shower, and could only assume that I was in for some intense feminization. When the shower curtain was pulled back, Mistress was in just her bustier, mask and panties; the catsuit, boots and gloves she'd been wearing were
 nowhere in sight. I dried off much more quickly than before thanks to the velvety skin I now had, and when I'd finished, she stood expectantly in the doorway.
 
 "Now for the fun part. Have a seat at my makeup table, James. You will very soon have no way to make claim to that name, slave. I'm letting you hear it while it still applies. When I'm finished, James will be history. That's it, take a seat." I was actually looking forward to this feminization, thinking it was part of the role playing that the domination scene called for. I couldn't let this show, however; that would be out of character.
 
 Mistress applied makeup much better than any I'd used in the past. The foundation filled all my pores and smoothed over the roughness of my remaining beard, and what went on next was pushed, prodded and brushed until I felt like my face had been intensely massaged. I was instructed to keep my eyes closed, and I could feel the mascara, shadow and eyeliner being applied. When this was finished, Mistress told me to keep my eyes closed until she was finished. She wanted to finish with my lips before letting me see the new me. I felt the pencil outlining the shape of my lips, and the tube of lipstick following.
 
 "Now you may look, slave."
 
 When I opened my eyes, I saw a beautiful woman with a short butch haircut. I found it hard to believe that somewhere underneath all that was me. If she was going to so much trouble for my face, I couldn't wait to see what Mistress had in mind for the rest of my 'punishment'.
 
 "Okay, my pretty, let's get you back downstairs now. The real fun is about to begin. You wanted to see what it felt like to wear your Mistress' boots? You're going to find out, oh how you're going to find out!" I was led to the stairwell, and felt a bit of a chill on my slick skin.
 
 The first thing that Mistress did was to pull a gaffe into place with my prick pulled up tightly underneath it. Oddly enough, it had been soft before folding back, presumably because the excitement of the transformation was overridden by the awe of the process. I noted that the exterior of the gaffe resembled the nether regions of a female crotch, even having pubic hair around what looked like the twin lobes of the labia. Then she laced me into a bustier from the closet which matched the one she wore. Tighter and tighter the laces were drawn, until they could be tightened no more. The laces were double knotted, and I now had a wasp waist the likes of which I'd never attained before in all my years of crossdressing. I could barely breathe!
 
 Two huge breast forms were brought from the closet, and inserted into the cups of the bustier. I was becoming a bit alarmed when they were blended into my skin with tape and makeup, and gave me what looked like real cleavage. Was this starting to go a bit too far?
 
 "Good. Now your body is starting to match that gorgeous face of yours. I told you James would no longer be applicable. You look more like a Jacqueline now. Yes, that is your name now, slave. You are Jacqueline. Turn around, Jacqueline, and face the wall."
 
 I could hear Mistress Monique moving around behind me, but didn't dare turn to watch. When I was finally told to turn, she was holding a pair of panties which looked identical to those she was wearing. She handed them to me, and I was barely able to bend enough to slip my legs into them and pull them up. With the panties in place, the image I saw in the mirror looked all the more like a true woman, except for the hair atop her head.
 
 What really surprised me was what she handed to me next. It was the same black vinyl catsuit she had been wearing until shortly before. It was then that I noticed that not only were the two of us similar in height, but thanks to the foundation garments I was now wearing, we had comparably shaped bodies as well. Mistress helped me slip my legs into it, then started lacing up the sides as I pulled it up over my torso and then my arms. Once all the lacings on the legs and arms had been tightened, Mistress handed me the vinyl gloves. When the gloves were in place, I was stunned to find myself being pushed backwards toward the wall.
 
 Mistress Monique took each hand and slapped a padded leather cuff over the wrist. She locked these so fast that I could tell she'd done it often. What I wasn't prepared for was the winching that the chains attached to the cuffs then performed. My arms were stretched out and up, such that I was now standing on my tippee toes with almost no weight on them. I found out why this was so in no time.
 
 The thigh high stretch vinyl boots with the impossibly high heels that Mistress had been wearing were brought over and zipped onto my legs. The height of the heels actually raised me up enough that my arms felt a bit of slack. This was not to last; Mistress went to the controls and raised my arms a bit more once she was finished with the boots.
 
 "So, Jacqueline, how does it feel to be wearing your Mistress boots? You've not only got the boots now, but you have the entire costume." I looked down to see what looked exactly like the image I'd seen at the bottom of the stairs earlier. "Do you enjoy the constraint and the severe arching of your boots and the rest of the outfit?"
 
 "I do feel like I am in very tight garment, with my feet at an unnatural angle. If you were trying to show me that my wishes to feel what it was like to wear my Mistress's boots entailed a lot more that what I thought, Mistress, you have made your point. I thank you for the privilege of becoming a twin of my Mistress."
 
 "Jacqueline, why did you call them your Mistress's boots? Didn't you hear me say that they were your Mistress boots?"
 
 "My Mistress boots? What do you mean, Mistress? I may look like you did until earlier, but with this short hair I hardly complete the picture. Though I look a bit like you, that hardly qualifies calling them my boots."
 
 "Oh, did I forget something? Here, let me fix that!"
 
 I was gaping when I saw Mistress Monique reach up and carefully pull off a long red wig which I'd have sworn was her real hair. The short brown hair underneath looked not unlike the hair on my own head. That hair on my head disappeared moments later under the red wig. After she brushed it out, Mistress picked up the domino mask and laced it around my head. The transformation had been completed. The image I saw in the mirror on the opposite wall was that of the Mistress herself.
 
 I was too busy marveling at the new self image I had to catch the fact that my ankles had been secured to more cuffs. When these suddenly started winching outward, I took notice. I was completely immobilized now, my neck being the only easily moved part of body. I watched as Mistress Monique walked over to the sink along the wall.
 
 Mistress splashed water onto her face, then started scrubbing it with a washcloth. When she finished, I saw a face as masculine as that with which I had entered the house an hour earlier. HE had a grin on HIS face as he turned to face me. The corset was unlaced and fell free from his body, and the breast forms were loosened from his chest with a solvent he took from the cabinet below the sink. He pulled off his panties to reveal a gaffe similar to the one I was wearing; nae, not similar, identical. When the gaffe was pulled down, his cock fell from the position up against the crotch in which it had been hiding.
 
 "Are you surprised, Jacqueline? I am no more a female than you, yet I had you thinking before that I was an ultrafeminine dominatrix, right? Well, you wanted to see what it was like to wear the Mistress boots, and now you ARE the Mistress. How do they feel? I hope you like them, because they are indeed now your own." I was too stunned to say anything at all.
 
 "I did a bit of research on you after you called me last week. I found out all there was to know about James T. Brooks, and the small fortune he'd made working the market from his home workplace. With the background I've got myself, I took all the data I had about you and set up the little trap that you walked into. You see, Jacqueline, I now have in my possession the wallet and keys of James T. Brooks. Since the elusive face of James T. Brooks was not known well by anyone, the fact that he is going to assume a new face will be of no consequence. I made plenty of money working out of this house, but I think I'm going to really enjoy the tenfold increase I'll be getting from working out of
 your old house."
 
 "You can't be serious!" I shouted. "You can't take my place in the world!" Before I could say any more, a large orange ball gag was placed between my teeth and secured tightly. I could do no more than make sexy moaning sounds now.
 
 "Oh yes I can, MISTRESS JACQUELINE! I know enough about how you worked to fit right in, and when I have finished conditioning your brain, you will have no other life than that which I was leading here. You and I are going to trade places, Mistress. I may even come here on occasion to be dominated by you. I know you're going to busy after I start spreading the word about how good you are at what you do. By the time I'm finished, you will have no name other than Jacqueline. Your new life awaits you!"
 
 
 That is how I began to lead the life which is now my own, and love it too much to ever give it up.
 
 The end.

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