Notes to reader: "Sir" is a female to male (FTM) transsexual. This story takes place between consenting adults.
*
I pull into the garage and shut the car off. It's not dark in here like our old garage used to be, and on most days I appreciate that, but today I wish it was dark and calm just for a moment. It's been another bad day, week, at work, something that seems to be accumulating very quickly this year.
I wait until the car shuts the radio off for me. Deep breath in, deep breath out, and I open the car door. As I walk into the house, there's a note on the door: "Leave your work in the car, come straight in and shower, wear what's in the bathroom."
I'm not necessarily in the mood for this, but I do as I'm told. I'm caught up on the things I brought home, and everything else can be done tomorrow. Thank God for weekends. I put my bags back in the car, and feel the goosebumps appearing on my spine as I walk through the door.
The apartment is empty, except for the dog, who I let out of the kennel and give a chew stick to before heading upstairs to the shower. The apartment is exceptionally clean today, and I smile. It's the little things like this that make a bad day a little better.
When I get to the bathroom, there's an old blue tank top and a pair of lacy, navy blue underwear waiting for me on the counter. An odd choice, considering. I turn on the shower water, strip off my clothes, and allow my hair to fall from its tight bun. I shower quickly, and run the blow dryer over my hair to help tame it a bit, before throwing it up in a ponytail.
The tank top is tight on me, and somewhat see through. I've had it for years, and contemplated throwing it away several times, but I put it on as instructed. I check myself in the mirror, not my favorite look, but somehow sexy. My nipples press into my top and stick out, and my cheeks peak out around the lace of my panties.
I hear the television downstairs, and head down to see who it is. When I walk into the living room, I realize Sir is not alone. He's sitting on the couch with one of his friends, who stare at me. I want to run and cover up, embarrassed that his friend has seen me.
"Come back here," Sir says firmly as I head up the first few steps.
My head drops as I turn around, my face red, and my body trembling. I try to pull the tank top down as far as it will go without revealing my breasts.
I stand in the entry way of the living room again, bent over and legs crossed, trying to hide as much of myself as possible.
"Stand up straight, let me show you off."
I do as I'm told, somewhat unwillingly.
"What did I tell, y'all? Sexy, right? She's yours if you want."
Sir leads me to the couch and spreads my legs for me. I'm flustered and embarrassed. I want to hide myself, but Sir won't let me. He kisses my neck and I feel myself turning on. I don't know where to look, so I look at the ceiling.
A hand much larger, much rougher than Sir's grazes over my nipple and I let out a soft moan. He's sitting next to me on the couch now, and I'm sandwiched in between them. Sir places the handcuffs on me, ties them so I am forced to keep my hands behind my head. His ankle wraps around mine, pulling my legs closer to his, spreading me wider. I move my other leg to close them again, but Sit slaps my thigh and barks, "hold her", to his friend.
His hand pulls my other leg towards him and I'm now spread for anyone to see. Their hands teases my nipples and pull them through the cloth of the tank top. I can feel my wetness beginning to soak the lace of my panties, but I'm still too excited, too reluctant, too shocked to relax and enjoy.
The man gets up and for a moment I relax, he stares at me, and I don't move.
"Does she like to be tied?" He asks.
I let out a little whimper, yes I think, yes.
He pulls me from the couch and places me on my knees, my arms still behind my head. I can see his bulge through his pants and wonder for a moment what it is about me that he wants, then wonder if it's really as big as it looks from here.
"What shall we do with her?" He asks.
"I told you, she's yours, for the most part. We've discussed the rules."
I look at Sir for a moment, pleading with him to tell me the rules, but I know he won't. I trust Sir, he knows my limits, what I like and what I don't.
"We'll start easy, then," he says, then, turning to look at me, asks, "What do you call him?"
"Sir," I say, my stutter coming out as it does in most situations when I'm nervous.
"Then you will call me Master M, if that is okay with your Sir."
"Yes, Master M," I say again.
"Sit," Master M says, pointing to the padded double wide ottoman that acts a foot rest and coffee table all at the same time. I notice now that it's been covered with a blanket.
I sit facing him, and suddenly I'm jerked backward by Sir, as he pulls my hair.
"Tie her down," Master M says, and Sir binds my arms to the legs of the ottoman beneath me. Master M follows by binding my legs to the spreader bar attached to the edge of the ottoman, probably to force me to spread wider than the ottoman allows. It's not the most comfortable of positions and I shift to compensate.
Smack, I feel the crack against my thigh of Master M punishing me for my movement. Sir really has told him our rules, I know better than to move once given an order and I pay for it as the second smack whips across my other thigh.
"I was told your nipples got incredibly hard," he says, admiring the way they're poking through my shirt, threatening to break out at any moment.
His hands run over my nipples and I feel my entire body react. My skin grows goosebumps, my nipples harden more, and I grower wetter. I breathe in and can watch as my chest rises and falls with every long, deep breath. I moan in time with every passing of his hand, every pinch of my nipples as he begins to twist and pull on them.
Sir sits quietly on the couch watching, but I hear him moan a little as he does. I can only see his face.
"Your Sir wanted to make sure you were pleasured well tonight," Master M says, "Wanted to make sure you went to sleep happy."
I smile a little at this. Sir does always take care of me.
I watch as Master M pulls off his shirt and pants, standing only in his boxers. I can tell he's growing hard and I have an urge to reach out and play with it, but I can't. It's been such a long time since I've seen a cis-cock, something that I desperately want right.
"I don't like that you're so clothed."
"Agreed," Sir says, and I can hear that he is smiling.
I see hear the scissors before I see them. Master M pulls the tank top away from my skin and cuts a small hole, freeing my nipple from the confines of my shirt. He repeats this on the other side.
I moan a little louder and feel the wetness beginning to pool beneath me. Sir's hand is on one of my breasts now, while Master M plays with the other. I squirm beneath them, moaning louder and louder, wanting more and more. Their hands running up and down my body, their mouths taking turns nibbling my neck, my ears, my nipples.
I feel Sir's hand first, as it brushes over the soaking lace covering my pussy. He presses hard and rubs it, and I let out a soft scream of pleasure.
"Please," I whisper, "Please fuck me."
"Not yet," Master M replies.
They stop touching me and I'm left there. I roll my head to the right and I can see them both standing there. Sir is in his boxers now, too.
He looks at me and then back to Master M, before getting down on his knees. Sir enjoys sucking cock more than I ever could, but has always wanted to make me watch more than anything else. I feel a twinge of jealousy as he unveils Master M's large cock, which springs to life.
"Do you see what you did to me there?" Master M says to me, "lick it."
I open my mouth wide and take in just the tip of his cock, spinning my tongue around it and kissing just the tip. I moan a little as I try to take more it into my mouth, but he pulls away.
"Did you like that?" he asks, and I nod. "Too bad, it's not for you."
I watch as Sir falls to his knees and begins to suck on Master M. I want to play with them, I want to be fucked by them, but I'm bound with nothing to do but watch.
Master M lets out a growlish moan as he stiffens more than I thought he could. The doorbell rings and for a moment I forget I'm tied down and try to get up to answer it.
Panic strikes me when I realize that Sir is getting up to answer the door, and here I am tied down, nipples sticking out, juices dripping on the blanket beneath me, legs spread for the world to see.
Sir lets the man into the room.
