Disguised As a Women - Chapter 1

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Author - Jennifer White

Oddly enough, my troubles began the day I decided to buy a Slave. Oh, perhaps I should back up a bit and explain. My name is, or was, rather, Donald Martell, and I am - or was, rather quite wealthy. My status and identity at present are both a bit iffy, but that's what I'm writing this about.

You see, a man like me like I used to be, I mean gets used to having pretty much anything he wants. And after going through one messy divorce and another messy "palimony" suit, brought against me by an ex-girlfriend, I decided that I wanted female companionship on my terms, free of legal encumbrances and unwanted emotional demands.

I didn't want to visit brothels or have Call Girls over, because I'm a man (was a man!) who likes to have a woman all to myself for as long as I want her.

Also, I appreciate having a woman about the place, always there when I need her, and classy and beautiful enough for me to take out to parties or on the town when the mood strikes me.

Obviously, no Call Girl could fill that bill, and when I discussed with my Attorney the possibility of drawing up a pre-nuptial agreement that spelled out all my conditions, he told me that such a contract would amount to virtual Slavery!

I happened to mention this one evening at a party to a friend of mine named William Edgars and his eyes lighted up almost immediately.  "But that's it, Donald," he smiled. "Don't you see? What you need is a Slave! Perhaps two!"

"Do try not to be quite so stupid, Bill," I sighed. "Where is any man in a so-called Civilized Country like this going to get a Slave in this day and age?"

Bill ignored the insult as I knew he would and kept smiling.  "I know where," he said. "I know how, and, most importantly, I know who! Now are you really interested?"

I sighed again, feeling a slight twinge in my wallet. I described William as a Friend, but what he is actually is a Hanger-on. He makes his living sucking around the Very Rich, being charming, obliging, and generally doing whatever he can for a price.

Oh, I don't have anything against Bill, actually. I mean, he is a very charming fellow, and perhaps not quite as mercenary as some persons in his profession, but Bill is basically of no more consequence than a bit of Gift Wrap around an empty package, and that's all he ever will be.

"How much?" I asked, "And what for?"

"Five thousand," he smiled shamelessly. "For an introduction to a man here at this party who can sell you as many slaves as you like. Of course, he will only sell to people whom I can vouch for since he trusts me implicitly, but if I give the word, you're in, Old Man What do you say?"

"I say One Thousand," I countered, "And where is the filthy pimp?"

"Tell you what," William insisted. "I'll introduce you to him for free, out of the goodness of my heart. But if you buy from him, you pay me a Finder's Fee of Five Grand!"

"Two"

"Four."

"Three."

"Done!"

Bill beamed. "Let's shake on it and I'll take you over to him."

A short time later, I was looking down into the pasty face and watery eyes of Fekkim Ammatuk, a pudgy, revolting little slug from somewhere in the Middle East. As usual, he was expensively dressed, and as usual, he looked like a Cheap Pimp. I remembered him at a previous party somewhere, and I had a vague recollection of having insulted him to his face after a few Martinis, but apparently, he didn't recall it, because he smiled his soft, pandering smile up at me as William made introductions.

"Ah yes!" he simpered. "Mister Martell! I remember you distinctly. And how may I have the pleasure of serving you?"

And so it was that a few days (and a lot of money) later, I was the happy owner of two lovely, nubile, totally obedient slaves. Monika and Jasmin. Both were tall women, with excellent figures, long, dark hair, and wide, deep brown eyes. But there the resemblance ended.

For where Monika's skin was the color of expensive ivory, Jasmin's was more the of lightly-creamed coffee perhaps with a drop of Honey in it. She was Brazilian by birth, and college-educated, having come to this country as an exchange student.

For her part, Monika was from Southern California of mixed parentage; and had a degree in Sociology from UCLA. Both girls were highly intelligent, as you may have guessed, but both were also lively, humorous, and cheerfully servile.  It wasn't long, of course, before I asked them the Inevitable Question: "How did two lovely young girls in their twenties, with college degrees ever end up as Slaves?"

"Sheer good fortune!"

Jasmin laughed, her white teeth sparkling in her brown face.

"You see I was a little naive about finances and I got rather heavily in debt to some very nasty men. Then I proceeded to compound the problem by running up a large gambling debt.

Well, as I said, these were some rather nasty gentlemen and they decided that I should work off my debts by working in some rather unpleasant places, doing some things that. Anyway, let's just say that things looked awfully rough for me when Fekkim showed up and offered to buy me from the men I owed money to.

He did not try to sugar-coat what I was getting myself into, and he made it very plain what would happen to me if I took him up on his offer and then tried to back out.

But he did promise me that I would be cared for and looked after by wealthy gentlemen - one at a time, of course, kept clean and healthy, and not be beaten any more than I deserved. And I must say, he's lived up to his promise completely.

Oh, there was a rather rough period of adjustment at first, before I completely realized how utterly without rights a Slave really is, but I know now that I owe Fekkim my life, and since you have bought me from him, that life now belongs to you!"

"As for me," Monika explained, "I knew there were still various forms of slavery in the so-called Free World, and with my racial heritage, and my background in Sociology, I thought it would be wonderful if I could do a study of modern-day Slavery among the upper classes. A friend introduced me to Fekkim, and he agreed to take me on for a year.

"Well, I had the same difficult period of adjustment that Jasmin had, but at the end of that year, I realized that I was just naturally submissive. Maybe it would be different if I were badly mistreated or something, but I can honestly say that I wouldn't trade this life for anything on earth. I love Fekkim, and I owe my loyalty totally to him and to anyone he chooses to sell me to."

"This Fekkim must have hidden depths I never suspected," I said. "Tell me, am I as good a Master as he?"

"Well."

"Go on," I urged. "Well, you're very considerate and handsome, and we just love this house and all the clothes and jewelry and cars and the nice places you take us to," Monika admitted.

"But, well we sort of miss the Total Authority that Fekkim used to have. Sometimes he'd tie us up, or spank us, or, other things, and even if we did not always like what he did to us, there was that feeling of being totally in his power!

That thrill of being completely helpless and cared for in a way I know that if you're not even partly submissive, I'll never be able to explain it to you, but Jasmin and I loved it! Sometimes we even play games where one of us is the Master and the other one is her Slave, and we tie each other up and things we both enjoy it so much!"

"You mean to say that you'd both like me better as a Master... you'd both love me more if I beat you?"

Both women nodded sheepishly.  "But dammit, you haven't done anything to be beaten for!"

"Oh yes we have, Master," Monika insisted "Just this morning I made you wait an extra thirty seconds for your coffee!"

"And last week I spilled my purse as we were leaving the restaurant," Jasmin put in, "remember?"

"Those are hard things to merit a beating," I replied, trying to figure out what these two were getting at.  "Then what would merit a beating, Master?"

Jasmin asked.  "Yes!"

Monika chimed in. "What would we have to do that would be bad enough that you'd tie us up and spank us?"

And now I understood. They were looking to me for some kind of guidance.  They wanted discipline from me, but they did not want to go too far. It was up to me now to name some kind of petty crime.

Not something that would really upset me, but something that would serve as a useful pretext for the kind of gentle punishment that these two girls so obviously craved. Knowing that they would probably promptly go out and commit whatever transgression I named. I raked my brain quickly, trying to think of something that I wouldn't mind too much. Let's see now.

I wouldn't want them cheating on me, no that would never do. Now what could they do...? I had it.

"Well," I said casually. "I guess stealing from me is about the first thing that comes to mind. After all, I give you girls a pretty generous allowance, so I guess that I'd be quite upset if I were to discover that one or both of you had been filching money from my wallet or jewelry from my nightstand. Is that clear?"

"Very clear, Master!"

Naturally, it wasn't long after that before I started noticing little things missing around the house First it was loose change. Then small amounts of folding money Finally, I was losing more valuable things, like cuff links or a watch.  It was at this point that I started administering small spankings to Monika and Jasmin. They made it childishly simple. I would catch one of them wearing my ring, or another one would "accidentally" let a few bills fall from her blouse.

And then it was Punishment Time. I would order the offending girl to strip naked in front of her sister's slave and stand at attention. Then I would lecture her severely on the nature of her crime. Finally, I would have her bend over and present her ass to me for five or six enthusiastic swats.

After that, I might leave them tied up for a bit, or perhaps assign them to some difficult or embarrassing task, such as having them take my cars out to the Car Wash and not letting them wear any clothes, but basically, my heart just wasn't in dishing out this sort of thing, and I think they could tell it.

For one thing, I had a lot on my mind lately. It seemed that everyone in our social set was making plans to visit Rio for Mardi Gras.

As the winter waned, there was talk everywhere of the riotous fun to be had in that most charming and wicked of cities at that time of year. The food, the luxury hotels, the wild, uninhibited sex, the bizarre costumes, and half-dressed women everywhere. It all sounded wonderful, especially when Jasmin told me about some of her adventures during Carnival.

"It's completely pagan," she sighed. "Just imagine a city completely devoted to the senses for an entire week!

Oh, I know places like Paris and Amsterdam make quite a lot of to-do about their red-light districts, but their sex is a year-round industry in places like that, and eventually, it becomes jaded and mundane. But Rio just literally explodes with sex once a year, and for that reason, the people seem to truly revel in it. You see them trying the most outrageous, most uninhibited things imaginable with complete abandon. There's group sex, of course, bondage, transvestism, fetish clothing, bisexuality..."

She went on and on until at last, I had to command her to stop. Because it seemed I was going to miss it all! I had foolishly forgotten to obtain a passport and now it seemed I was going to be stuck in the States while all the rest of the crowd screwed themselves silly in Rio!

What a bitter disappointment!  Then hope arrived from a quite unexpected quarter. I mentioned my problem to Bill Edgars, and about a week later he telephoned me with the solution.

"Fekkim can help you," he announced grandly. "I had only to mention the matter to him and he immediately came up with the answer. You can travel to Rio as part of his staff!"

"Part of Fekkim's Staff?"

I asked incredulously. "Me? William, have you taken complete leave of your senses? The idea of me acting as that fat Turk's butler is enough to put me off my feed for a week!"

"But you wouldn't be," William insisted. "That'd be just a ploy to get you through Customs and such. Fekkim travels a lot with a large staff, and he has some special kind of pull that enables him to get temporary visas for his employees. He can get you to Rio with no problem. He's even chartered a jet for him and his entourage. And he said he'd be delighted if you and your slaves would do him the honor of accompanying him!"

"Fekkim said that?"

I asked. "After some of the things I've said to his face, that unctuous little toady actually wants to do this for me? What's the catch?"

"No catch," William insisted. "I guess he just thinks of you as a valued customer or maybe he figures that being seen with you will enhance his prestige."

"Then too, of course, those girls of yours are an excellent advertisement for his services so I shouldn't wonder that he'd be anxious to offer you his hospitality."

"I guess you're right," I admitted.  "Well, you can tell the little cheese bag that I and my girls would be delighted to accept."

"Of course I will, Donald," Bill said, "and I'm glad I could be of help. Any time I can do a little something for a friend like you..."

"What is it you want now, William?"

I interrupted wearily.  "Well, I could use a place to stay while you're out of town," he answered quickly. "And I thought perhaps I might look after some of your business affairs."

"We'll see," I tried to put a certain cold formality in my voice. After all, even though I now owed him a favor, it's not a good idea to let a man like Bill Edgars presume too much. "For now, why don't you just have Fekkim get in touch with me? There's a good lad. 'Ta."

And I hung up before he could get another word in, immensely satisfied with this excellent turn of events. Naturally, though, this sudden development meant that I would have quite a few things to attend to in the next couple of days. I decided that I'd better get some errands run and headed for my bedroom to pick up my car keys.  But on my way there, I happened to pass Jasmin, just as she 'accidentally' dropped a bit of china on the floor, smashing it.

"Oh no, Master!" she simpered. "I'm terribly sorry! Please don't punish me!"

"I'm not in the mood just now," I replied offhandedly, not even breaking my stride to see what she'd ruined. "Later perhaps I have places to go."

Then, as I passed my study, I noticed Monika guiltily stuffing some of my papers under her blouse.  "I'm not in the mood," I repeated, a bit peevishly. "Put them back."

But it seemed there would be no respite for me. When I got to my bedroom, I couldn't find the keys to my Porsche.  Thoroughly pissed off by now, I imperiously summoned my two little vixens and spoke to them quite severely when they stood at attention before me.

"Girls," I snapped. "It seems we're going to get to go to Rio for Mardi Gras after all and as a result, I have quite a few things to do. I shall need some car keys. Whoever has them, please give them to me at once."

Both of them just stood there.  "If this is another ruse to get yourselves some punishment, then I'd advise you to drop it immediately. Now give me the car keys."

Again, silence and fearful looks. This was beginning to exasperate me.  "This is your last chance," I said. "Monika, did you take my car keys?"

"No. Master," she quivered.  "Jasmin, will you give me my keys?"

"I...I didn't take them, Master. Honest I didn't!"

"I don't believe either of you," I said with a cool anger that scared even me a little.

"Nonetheless, I am going to give you the treatment you so obviously want. But this time, it's going to be the kind of treatment you deserve. Strip!"

In an instant, they were standing nude before me, and an instant after that, both were bending sharply forward and grabbing their ankles as I pulled the belt from my trousers. I swished it experimentally in the air and wondered for a second if this was really a wise course of action.  Then one of them giggled and something inside me snapped.  swiIsh!

CRACK!

It seemed like a hand other than my own swung the belt with all its might against Jasmin's upturned brown bottom globes. I hear her gasp and whimper at the unexpected pain.

CRACK!

A matching blow expanded against Monika's rump and she cried out. More strokes followed. More cries. Protests of innocence that only infuriated me more. Monika broke her stance and tumbled to the floor and I whipped her where she lay. Jasmin started to break and run, though better of it, and dissolved in a tearful puddle at my feet.

Finally, when my arm grew too tired to continue and the cries of the women had died down to pitiful moans. I stopped to catch my breath. Absent-mindedly, I reached into my back pocket for a handkerchief to mop my brow.  And I found my keys!  I won't go into the scene that followed or try to describe my emotions at that point.

I think you, the Reader, can tell that I had acted like the lowest kind of heel and all I can add is that I certainly felt like one. I asked them to forgive me, and of course, they said there was nothing to forgive. I was the Master and they the Slaves, after all. By that standard, I would have been within my rights to whip them merely for my own amusement. Therefore, they explained, (still sobbing a little), that I was even more justified in beating them because I thought I had a good reason!

This was maddening. I realized now that if I asked them again to forgive me, they would do it simply because I asked them to! That kind of absolution would not make me feel a damn bit better about myself. Then it hit me. What this called for was not so much absolution as... Atonement!  "I'll tell you what, Girls," I said at last. "Even though you insist that it is not necessary, I want to do something to make up for what I just did. What I want you to do now is to think of something appropriate.

I hereby pledge to you both that I will do anything within reason, no matter how difficult, expensive, or embarrassing, that you ask so take your time, and when you come up with something, just tell me what it is. Rest assured, I'll do it."

This statement had the desired effect. At last, both girls stopped whimpering almost at once, and thoughtful looks crossed their pretty, tear-stained faces. They agreed to do as I asked and, two days later, presented me with their condition for my atonement!

"We want you to walk through the streets of Rio with us at Carnival disguised as a woman," Jasmin said.  "Yes And we want to pick out the disguise ourselves," added Monika.  I was frankly non-plussed for a moment, taken aback and even a bit frightened. If I agreed to this, there was no telling what they might deck me out in!

Then, I remembered all that I had seen and read about the madness that pervaded Mardi Gras. It was quite common there for men to adorn themselves in the most outlandishly feminine costumes imaginable. Indeed, some people even considered it a mark of virility for a man to be so secure in his masculinity that he would dare to parade around in a woman's garb. I swallowed my doubts and hesitations.

"I'll do it," I said. "Make whatever arrangements you want for my costume and I'll wear it." All at once, bright smiles lighted up their eyes. I felt myself being surrounded by loving arms and warm kisses from my two slaves as they murmured obsequious thanks for this unaccustomed generosity.

But it was only a mere Forty-eight hours afterward that I found myself once again doubting the wisdom of my decision!

We were in New York, on a six-hour layover, waiting for some more members of Fekkim's party to meet us before we all boarded his private jet when Jasmin and Monika calmly told me that the three of us had to go into Manhattan to pick up my costume. I was somewhat surprised at this, but they explained that they had ordered a very elaborate disguise for me to wear to Mardi Gras and that I would have to be fitted for it.

As I say, I was caught somewhat off-guard by this, but still, I felt flattered that my two slaves would go to so much trouble for their Master - me - so I obligingly boarded the Copter that sped us to Midtown Manhattan. Once there, we took a Taxi to a small shop whose name I never quite caught, and Monika and Jasmin ushered me through the door.

It certainly was a strange-looking place! There were racks and racks of brightly colored female attire, most of it extremely lacy and rather revealing.  There were shelves of wigs, in all colors and styles, neatly arranged in row upon row. The glass cases that ran along two walls were filled with all manner of expensive-looking cosmetics, again in every shade imaginable.

And finally, towards the back, there was an unusually elaborate Beauty Parlor with only a single chair!  It was to this area that Monika and Jasmin escorted me, where we were greeted by a tall, pretty-looking attendant who introduced herself as Janette.

"You must be Donald Martell," she smiled, shaking my hand with surprising firmness. "I'd know you anywhere from your girls' description! Well, let's get started; just step behind that screen and undress."

"Ummm, back there?", I hesitated.  "Of course!"

Janette smiled again. "We have to get you into your disguise, you know. Would you girls like to help him?" she turned to my two slaves.  "Would we ever!"

Monika giggled. "This way, Master!"

And the two of them took me by the elbows and led me behind the screen.

"Girls, what is all this?"

I whispered as they began stripping off my tie and jacket.

"It's your disguise!"

Jasmin said, unbuttoning my shirt. "You promised we could pick out a female disguise for you to wear to Mardi Gras, remember?

Anything we wanted, you said. Well, this store handles the best and most complete female disguises anywhere, and naturally, we wanted the best for you!"

"What's the matter?"

Monika asked, unfastening my belt.

"Don't you want to go through with your promise, Master?"

That did it I guess after all those months of tending to my every need, both girls knew just what to say to egg me on, so I gritted my teeth and resolved to do whatever it took to get fitted for this disguise that my two slaves had cooked up for me.  And I didn't back down from that resolve one bit. Not even when Monika and Jasmin stripped me naked and covered my arms, legs, chest, and ass with a powerful depilatory that left my body completely hairless except for the growth on my head and in my pubic area. Not even when the smiling Janette looked me up and down (although I blushed terribly under her amused gaze) and produced one of those electric shot-injecting guns!

Before I could protest, she had administered four quick injections, one under each side of my chest, and one on each hip. When I asked what they were, she merely giggled and told me they were to help me fit my disguise!  Perhaps it was the shots themselves, or merely the shock of getting them, but I felt a little woozy and out of it as they led me to the adjustable chair and strapped me in. Janette lowered the back, so that I was lying nearly flat, then dropped the headrest until I could no longer see the rest of my body.

And then all three of them set to work as I lay in a passive, unresisting cloud. Jasmin applied herself to my hair, soaking it in something, rinsing it out, and even treating it with a curling iron!

Monika, meanwhile, applied herself to my face and nails, painting, powdering, routing, and shaping my eyebrows, fingertips, eyelids, lashes, and lips until they finally met with her approval.