From Cucked Husband To Sub Wife Ch 28

Chapter 28 Transformations

Surgery day had finally arrived. It was time to put the cunt in Ms. Kuntz. This time, there was no scene with Lori in the waiting room or long video of her doing everyone in our social circle all night, while I convalesced in the clinic. When I came in for the surgery, Dr. Harris was actually very professional. He gave me all the medical information about the procedure and went through what the aftercare would be like as well as the major risks.

I was on the table for nearly five hours and wheeled into recovery. Daddy was there when I woke up with a big bunch of peonies (my favorite flowers) and some candy. He was very sweet and kind, stroked my cheek while holding my hands with his other hand. I was so out of it; I don't know if I said anything or if he did.

The next morning, I awoke in a private room at the clinic. A nurse was fussing with my bandaging, and I was beginning to feel the pain in my lower body. It was still faint because of the pain meds, but definitely there. I spent three full days of recovery in the clinic, and was finally sent home on the fourth day.

It was good old Joe who came to get me. Mr. Jenkins, he said, was out of town. I had spoken to him the night before and knew he wouldn't be there to pick me up. Joe was very nice to me in the cab on the way home and taking me up to the apartment in a rented wheelchair. When we got upstairs, we found Vera bustling around the kitchen.

"Oh, my dear. I am so happy to see you. Everything went well?"

"Yes, Dr. Harris spoke to me this morning. He said everything was excellent, he's very happy with the results. But, of course, I can't tell anything yet. I'm just exhausted; it's the pain meds."

"Okay, honey, let's get you into your own bed, and when you're ready I'm making a nice consommé. Harris said you need lots of liquids, so that's what you're gonna get. Vera's here to take care of you, sweetie; don't you worry."

She was always so sweet to me. Joe took me into my room and laid me on the bed and tucked me in. He gave me a gentle peck on the forehead and started to leave.

"Vera will take good care of you, but call me if you need anything at all, Michelle. I gotta get back to work. I'll call you later."

Vera spent the next three weeks taking good care of me. With a few complications I was got back to ambulatory. I couldn't really tell yet what it felt like down there. There was a cavity that had to be dilated a little more each day. Given what I expected it to have to do I was very keen to have depth and breadth. Harris had used a new technique to give me the most depth, but it was up to me with daily dilation to achieve breadth.

But everything down there was just numb and swollen, so it was hard to tell what was going on. I used the dilators, about twice as much as they had instructed (call me eager). It wasn't until about week four that I started to get feeling back there and could finally begin to assess how it was different. I was pushing in the biggest dilator; it felt like a cock going up my ass, except indescribably different. I could feel the wall between my ass and pussy, a total novelty.

Daddy was pretty good about looking after me, but seemed distant and appeared to avoid being home as much as possible. He was gone the first week and took more trips than usual during the next three months. I was pretty much out of commission sexually, though I did talk him into letting me give him a blowjob. I enjoyed that very much, but there was no repeat.

He seemed to be a squeamish about the whole "penis turned vagina" trick. He said, he didn't want to see it until I was fully recovered. I could see that: he didn't want his first impression of it to be a bloody swollen wound. I had finally gotten a look at it, and, though still a bit puffy and raw, I was very impressed with the results. Given some of the pictures I had seen, I was afraid to end up with an ugly pussy. But mine was really cute with slightly darker lips and pink inside.

Almost three months after the surgery, Dr. Harris was still advising caution vis-à-vis intercourse. He said everything looked good, but it was just not healing as fast as most. I had some issues with discharge and a "teensy infection" (his words). Our wedding was a month and a half away, and I was beginning to worry. I wanted to give him my new pussy for our wedding night, if not sooner.

After about week eight, Daddy had come around; he inspected my vagina and agreed it was very nice. He poked his finger in gently, and I was so happy to feel it. The feeling was astounding to me. It was amazing to me that I could feel pleasure in an orifice I had never had.

We resumed having very occasional anal sex after that, though it had to be very gentle. He would sit on the edge of the bed, and I would lower myself onto his upright cock, gingerly. He took extraordinary care not to damage any of the still healing bits up front. This is why it had to be very occasional; he was not exactly an impulse-control kind of guy. I too would have preferred a good pounding rather than the slow placid lovemaking this involved.

Luckily the wedding preparations occupied most of my days. At work, I had taken family leave and would only rarely call in to consult with my team. Otherwise, it was caterers and cakes, decorations and invitations, hiring a band, etc. Angel, despite the tough Russian exterior, turned out to be a huge wedding sentimentalist. So, she was over or on the phone with me on a near daily basis.

The Samuelsons generously offered to host the big event at a small theater in SoHo that my company had worked on before I returned to New York. It was a beautiful reconstruction of an old movie theater in all its goldleaf splendor. The façade had been moved from a small town out on Long Island. Moving the two-hundred-ton structure the twenty miles without damage involved an engineering miracle, for which my company received great plaudits.

It had been more than four months since my surgery, and I was still a vage virgin; because he wanted to be ultra-cautious about it. Dr. Harris, who had been guarded, had already given his okay. About a week and a half before the exalted event, Mr. Jenkins asked me to lunch at a swanky restaurant down in the financial district. This was not unusual, though with the surgery and the wedding planning, we had not been out for a nice lunch in quite a while.

I got there ten minutes early, which was usual. I expected him to be there nonetheless, but he was not. The maître d' led me to the bar to await my party. At the bar, I noticed a tall extremely handsome man blatantly checking me out. He slid down the bar smoothly and said,

"Hello beautiful, mind if I buy you that drink." The kind of line that only works super hot guys like him.

As he said this, a sudden electric thrill went through my body. Since my initial transformation, I had been attracted to men, but usually it was their equipment that aroused me. What I was feeling now was pure lust for the hunky man standing before me. He was tall, large, broad-shouldered, like Daddy; but he was a caramel-colored Black man, with beautiful hazel eyes. I could feel my new clit spasming and my panties wetting.

He had a British accent (but generic, and subdued, like he had spent a long time in the US) and a deep resonant voice; to hear him speak was like savoring a fine sweet dessert wine.

"Oh, thank you."

"I'm called Roger Oyango. Delighted to meet you, Ms..."

"Michelle Cochran, pleasure to meet you." I found myself lost in his eyes and forgetting nearly everything else around me. It was unusual for Mr. Jenkins to be even one minute late, and it was now ten past the hour. I would have already called to check, were it not for this handsome stranger, occupying most my mental space.

"So, what do you do Mr. Oyango?"

"Please, my dear, Roger. I am an international banker at the IMF."

"And you're in New York on business?"

"No actually, pleasure. I've come for my brother's wedding."

"Oh, that's a coincidence; I'm about to get married myself."

"Well, congratulations, my dear. I guess I have come too late." I blushed deep red, but this coincidence put me in mind of Daddy; I made an excuse to try to call him. I walked toward the powder room and dialed him up. It went straight to voicemail. I was about to leave a message, but thought better of it and just hung up. He's probably just stuck in traffic from Midtown, I thought.

When I got back to the bar, Roger had ordered another round of drinks and was sitting there looking scrumptious and gallant. We were chatting away like old friends for another ten minutes. Luckily, I had put on a mini-pad in the bathroom, which I had to always have on hand, due to the discharge from my new pussy, which had finally cleared days earlier.

Getting used to having a vagina was complicated; there were all these new sensations; my clit would get hard when aroused, but it was all internal. I was leaking like a sieve down there and felt the wetness within. The sudden post-surgery drop in sexual attention made me horny all the time, and my new pussy was aching to be finally fucked. It was all I could do to keep from tackling my drinking companion and pushing his dick inside my overheated new pussy.

I was in the middle these thoughts, with Roger's honeyed voice reiterating how alluring he found me, when Mr. Jenkins walked into the restaurant and right up to us at the bar.

"Oh, good! Roger, I see you've met my fiancée." I should have known he was up to something, showing up a half-hour late, putting this Adonis in my face.

"Yes, James! She's simply delightful. You're a lucky man, brother." I was confused; he had to have known who I from the start. Why had he not said anything? The look on my face must have informed them I needed an explanation. We were led to our table just then before I got the story:

Mr. Jenkins's father had done his undergraduate work in Edinburg, Scotland. Where he met Roger's mom, Almasi; she got pregnant, just before Mr. Jenkins, Sr. returned to the states. He didn't know she was pregnant. When he learned of the pregnancy, he tried to make a big romantic gesture, but Amalsi put him off saying it was just a fling. He provided financially for the child after, but had not been a presence in the boy's life.

Almasi married afterward, to a man who became the Kenyan ambassador to the UK. They'd had no other children, so the ambassador was quite happy to adopt and raise the strapping young boy as his own. Daddy had met his half-brother on his trip through Europe after the terrible fight with his mother. He professed Roger had saved his life. He had been so scarred by the death of their father and his mother's bizarre treatment, that he was depressed and suicidal, when Roger took him in and was a real big brother to him.

Looking again at Roger's sexy face, I could see a resemblance. They were both very handsome, they had similar shaped faces, only Roger had these incredibly high cheekbones and fuller lips that made me ache for want of kissing them. We had a long leisurely lunch. They were talking about old times, and I was in and out of sexual fantasies involving Roger's body. Suddenly, Roger excused himself from the table. Daddy leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"So, what do you think of my brother, Roger?"

"Uhm, why didn't you ever tell me you had a brother?"

"I don see him very often; we haven't spoken in a very long time; besides I don't tell you everything. There has to be some mystery left. But what do you think of him?" I was sure he must have known exactly what I had been thinking about for the past hour or so, but he was going to force me to say it out loud.

"Oh, he's pleasing enchanting! I'm sure I've been rude, but I can't stop staring at him. Daddy, I want him, desperately. Are we having a three-way?" I asked softly in his ear. I was sure he would know how horny I was for his brother; I couldn't help but send signals, and he read my signals without even trying. So, I thought it best to just say what I was thinking instead of having him wheedle it out of me.

"Well, Sissy, he's asked me to give you to him for you; and I have decided to do it."

"Give... erm... what do you mean... give?" I was immediately in full panic.

"Ha ha ha, let's call it 'lend,' just until the wedding. He wants to 'own' you, and I am giving him your vaginal virginity, as a wedding present. That's why I... haven't... uhm..." He said all this in a tone somewhere between resignation and reassurance. But it only made me nervous, and suddenly, I was not as aroused by Roger anymore.

"Uhm, but Daddy... I wanted to give you my cherry as a wedding present!"

"I know, Sissygirl, but I owe this man my life, and he asked; I can't refuse him. It's only symbolic. I'll have the rest of our lives to fuck your pussy. A gift requires sacrifice. I will miss you, but for the next week, consider him your Master. I should warn you; he is stricter than I am, and he does not like to share. You'll stay in our apartment; I'll be at Bob and Angel's. We can talk every day, but I won't see you until before the wedding. G'bye, Sissygirl."

I was in tears as he described the next week of my life. Yes, I wanted to have sex with the handsome stranger, but I didn't want to lose my fiancé for the week before our wedding. I must have looked a mess in the middle of that fancy restaurant. Daddy hugged me goodbye; didn't even kiss me and walked out, just as Roger came back to the table.

"My brother has explained how things will be, whore?" The façade was down; he didn't need to charm be anymore. I was his.

"Yes, Sir." He handed me a handkerchief to wipe the blubbering off my face and reached down with his massive hand to lift me out of the booth.

We walked together, he holding my hand down stiffly and guiding me through the busy restaurant. We walked past the exit and into the men's room. He signaled the maître d' as we passed. He opened the bathroom door, pushed me in locked it behind him with a key. He lifted my dress up off me and hung it on a hook in stall as he guided me roughly by the neck to the urinal. He knelt me in front of it, whipped out his massive black cock.

I was very nervous and frightened, but I couldn't help but reach for it with my tongue. He slapped me hard across the face, then pushed me back until my head was face up in the urinal.

"Open your mouth, whore, and drink my piss!" I obeyed, and he began his stream. He must have been holding it in through most of lunch because he pissed buckets into my mouth; most of it spilled out into the urinal, but a lot of it when down my throat.

When he finally finished and shook the last drops onto my face, he cleared his throat and spat right on my face, landing his phlegm on the bridge of my nose, from where it oozed down to my piss-soaked cheeks. He lifted my head out of the urinal and let me clean his cock before stuffing it back in his pants. He stood me up by the neck, and drug me over to the stall where my dress was.

"Put it back on, bitch, but don't dare wipe your whore face."

I did the best I could to get the dress on without it touching my face or my wet hair. He walked me back out through the restaurant. I was so embarrassed and humiliated, my mascara running down my cheeks and the big gob of phlegm hanging off the bridge of my nose; fortunately, it was not too far to the exit. I must have looked a real mess; the maître d' made a face, then smiled perversely at me as Roger handed him back the key.

Outside, Master Roger hailed a cab and shoved me into it, as he sang out our address, as if he'd been there a hundred times. I was very concerned about this turn of events, but I tried to soldier on. Though I was not thrilled with the prospect of captivity, my body was still tingling with sexual energy for what I anticipated happening. His whole aura filled me with lust anyway, but in my horny state, the prospect of finally losing my pussy cherry had me swirling.

Dr. Harris warned me that, between surgeries and hormones, I might experience a loss of libido; that had never been true, for me. In fact, my clit was raging hard almost non-stop, since regaining feeling in my redesigned genital area. I had moved well past the largest dilator and was using a large dildo for longer than the recommended fifteen minutes. I was desperate to get fucked, and ecstatic this god of alpha-maleness would take my virgin hole. But the situation was, totally freaking me out.

In the restaurant, he had played the perfect gentleman, while flirting with me, but turned dramatically, once Daddy left the scene. Now, he was mean and indifferent to my feelings. He was treating me, not like a sex slave, but like an object. I had been enthralled to Mr. Jenkins almost four years, and while he humiliated me plenty, it never felt mean-spirited. This felt dangerous! His radical change in affect seemed psychotic, or even sociopathic to me.

In the cab, he handed me a pronged choke chain, with a leather tag that read "Filthy Bitch."

"Put it on, bitch!" he barked at me. I said nothing, and did as I was told. Once I had it on, he pulled sharply on the leash and the prongs pushed into my skin; I was choking instantly. I began to grunt, but he put his finger to his lips to be quiet. I tried to be as quiet as possible while he pulled on the chain mercilessly. The TV in the back of the cab was blaring, and where I sat, the driver couldn't see what was happening.

The thought that he might just choke me to death in back of NYC taxi in broad daylight seemed crazy, but that's what seemed to be happening, as he kept up the pressure until I passed out. When I came to, we were a few blocks from our apartment. He paid the fare and dragged me out of the cab by the leash and perp-walked me through my own lobby, his phlegm and piss mostly dry, but my face a scary mess, he yanked on the leash from time to time.

The doorman gave me look, but I gave a sign as if this was just perfectly normal. The doormen had become inured to our shenanigans. "Good afternoon, Ms. Cochran," he said snidely, then chuckled softly under his breath. The public humiliation was mortifying and thrilling. I had to see Murray, the doorman, all the time. What must he think of me? But at the same time what Roger was doing to me stiffened my clit and made my pussy wetter.

Once in our apartment, he held me up by the chain, while he ripped my clothes off, then had me get down on all fours. From his briefcase, he pulled out a butt plug with a furry dog tail attached. He had me hold open my ass and shoved it in. I was glad that I had cleaned myself out earlier, anticipating it would be Daddy and I coming back after lunch. I accepted the plug happily though he used no lube. He slapped my ass to make me wag my tail.

He had me lead him through the apartment as a dog. I showed him my bedroom. He looked around, inspecting the room carefully, not sure for what. When satisfied, he had me lead him to the bar in the dining area and he fixed himself a drink. He was no longer composing odes to the allure of my body, but he still leered at me like a hungry wolf... and I was the wolf's bitch.

We went next into the playroom, where he had me pick up a few things with my mouth, then led me to the Bellini. He had me jump onto it like a dog.

"That's my good bitch! Bark like dog, bitch!"

"Woof, woof, woof." He yanked on the leash making me choke again.

"That's not very convincing, bitch!"

"WOOF, Woof, Woof! Grrrrwww..." He was satisfied with that, it seemed.

"I don't want to hear you speak. You're my bitch; I want you to act like it. Bark once for yes and twice for no. Understand?"

"WOOF!"

He hogtied me so my ankles were behind my head and my shoulders and arms in front of my calves, while my lower back laid on the couch. My ass and new pussy were exposed, my ass plugged with the puppy dog tail. When he was satisfied with my position, he stood back and admired his work. He casually leaned back over to me and plunged his fat index finger into my pussy. I wish I had the will to say stop, or even to not feel so excited by it, or at least not to have moaned throatily like a bitch in heat.