Colleen rushed through the mansion's open gate and headed towards the main door. She opened her mini leather bag and searched frantically for her keys, although she knew she was hopelessly late. Was it her third or fourth unsuccessful attempt in a row to get there on time? Or had there been more? Oh, how could she answer that question when she had been at a complete loss for more than a month? Her boyfriend, Tom, who was a marine, had been sent to Iraq, as a member of an elite force assigned to seek and destroy missions, and since he left all she could do was to cry and pray for his safety. He had promised to write to her every day but, alas, she had never received anything and what is more, she was afraid of the worst.
Colleen, at her twenty four, was a very pretty and graceful girl, standing 5' 9'' tall, with such perfect curves that every time she walked down the street the crowd filled the air with cheers and whistles as if they were watching the grand parade. A cascade of shoulder-length straight hair, parted in the middle and blonde as a hay-field during summertime, framed her oval pale face and her delicate petite nose stood out as a masterpiece of unsurpassed craftsmanship. The deep blue color of her eyes could easily make the sky hide in shame and her thin, but burning, scarlet lips would set on fire even the most unwilling flesh.
Her 36-full-C tits were as much round and firm as big inflated balls, with big aureoles and dark brown nipples which always stuck out like huge doornails- as we shall see there was a reason for that. She had a thin ring-like waist and full hips which gave her figure the shape of a cello. Her legs were long and slender and her ass cheeks small and muscular. The only hair that covered her body was in her pubic area trimmed in the shape of a wide 'V'.
However, a nasty or welcomed surprise, depending on one's point of view, waited the unsuspecting. Instead of having a blooming flower surrounded by delicate pinkish folds between her legs, she had... something extra. A tiny spear made of flesh accompanied by a hairless pair of small balls. Yes! Colleen was a shemale heartbreaker of untold beauty.
As far back as she could remember she always acted like a girl by playing with dolls, wearing dresses, using lipstick and rouge, flirting with boys and etc. Was it because her parents, deep in their hearts, wished to have a daughter instead of a son because they thought she would be looking after them, when they grew old, as well-bred daughters ought to do? Had the balance of her hormones been disturbed during her mother's pregnancy somehow by that secret desire of her parents? Or was it simply that the fact of being constantly dressed as a girl throughout her tender years had played a significant role in changing her attitude and bringing out her feminine side? And who would blame her parents for that? She would never do that, that's for sure. Why? Because she was happy with her sexuality and despite her gender she never felt otherwise.
Before turning nineteen, Colleen had already decided to undergo an operation that would transform her into a real woman. For that purpose, she had visited Dr. Harding's clinic, one of the most eminent surgeons at that time, and asked his advice. He had told her that three stages needed to be completed: first of all, she had to undergo a hormone therapy, then a breast surgery and finally, the removal of her genitals would ensue.
On hearing the amount of money it would cost she had broken down and burst into bitter tears, and Dr. Harding, feeling sorry for the unjust fate of the poor girl, had kindly offered to complete the first two stages for free on condition that she would be working for him as a maid until she repaid her debt. As for the third stage, they would surely think of something in the near future. She had gladly accepted and attempted to kiss his hands but the good doctor had gently sent her away, giving her the address of his mansion.
Dr. Harding kept his promise and she, eventually, undertook the responsibility of all household duties and expenses. Of course, besides being conscientious, clean and honest, she had to be always punctual and 'well-dressed'. 'Well-dressed' meant that every day she had to choose her maid outfit from a collection of fifty, more or less, unique pieces and accessories, which had been especially designed for her size.
Dr. Harding was at his fifties and was a highly respected surgeon who had devoted his life to the glories of his science. He was kind at heart, generous, open minded and extreme intellectual. With height over 6 feet, weight 180 pounds, strong legs and body well built, he looked as much imposing and fearsome as a professional wrestler. His silver-like grey hair was cut short and he had a narrow sharp face with coarse features, blue eyes, a rather big arched nose and thin lips- you could easily mistake him for some kind of gunfighter of the eighteenth century.
He had been neither married nor engaged, although he had had many female pursuers. Just the same, he preferred to lead a solitary life devoided of any trivial concerns which might disturb the state of his everyday life- he was a pure Stoic, as most people would say. Besides being in love with his profession, he was also an avid collector of Chinese porcelain vases, many of which belonged to the Ming and Qing dynasty, and he was very proud of it.
Colleen, at last, found her keys and opened the door. She ran through the hall like a 100-meter-athlete and entered the lounge... only to find Dr. Harding at his office, reading the 'Nature' magazine. Colleen froze at her position and remained silent, waiting for his reaction; only her fingers were showing signs of life as they were nervously clenching and unclenching the straps of her bag.
He lifted an eyebrow and inspected her from head to toe, for some time, before he spoke.
Dr. Harding: "Good morning Miss Colleen. Might I ask you where have you been? You are late again. I have lost the count of how many times I have caught you belated during this month. You do know how much I hate delays, even though you have been forewarned many times."
Colleen: "I know... I know Mr. Harding. You have always been kind to me... It's that I worry about my boyfriend. I haven't heard from him since the day he left and... I promise I will never be late again."
Dr. Harding: "Very well. Go upstairs, change your clothes and come back. I want you to take care of my collection... My poor vases never looked so dirty. When was the last time you dusted my vases? A year ago?"
Colleen: "Oh, NO! I dust them every week... I'm very sorry Mr. Harding. I'm going upstairs to change and I will have them cleaned in less than ten minutes."
She ascended the stairs as fast as she could and entered the dressing room. Feeling guilty about her behaviour, she stripped naked and opened the built-in wardrobe. She knew she had to choose something really nice if she wanted to distract his attention. He seemed to be extremely upset and she was afraid that he might be considering of firing her.
She searched through the wardrobe until she found what she was looking for. The maid outfit she chose consisted of: a pink fishnet dress, with very thin shoulder straps, which barely covered the middle of the thighs; a white collar and a red bow tie; a white apron with a big red heart in the middle; a scandalous tiny pink g-string; red stockings and 5 inches stiletto heels made of glass.
She got dressed, took a black feather duster and descended the stairs very carefully, trying to keep her balance after each step. Dr. Harding looked absorbed in the reading of his magazine but every time she wasn't looking at him, she could feel his eyes glued on her back. So, she started cleaning vase after vase, assuming lewd stances which would give him an ample view of her amazing curves.
She would completely bend over, bringing the upper body in a horizontal position, and dust the vases smoothly and slowly, swaying her marvellous ass cheeks with the grace of a cat. Sometimes, in order to reach the far side of a bookshelf, she would balance on one foot and put the knee of the other on a convenient spot so that the thighs would form a 90-degrees angle, causing the disappearance of the string between her smooth orbs. If the height and width of a vase were appropriate, she would rest the bulk of her tits on its top and her delicate fingers would caress its surface as if it were her baby.
All was going well until disaster struck. She was knelt on an armchair, with elbows resting on top of its back, waving playfully her shapely calves up and down, when a clumsy movement caused a vase to fall off a bookshelf and smash into pieces. Upon hearing the crash, Dr. Harding threw his magazine in the air and rushed to her. He moved so fast that even before she could utter a single word, he had already grabbed her from the nape and was pressing her face against the chair, forcing the arching of her back and ass.
Colleen: "What... What are you doing to me Doctor? You are... hurting me! Please... Please... STOP IT!"
Dr. Harding: "You... You wretched imitation of an unworthy female... How did you dare to break one of my vases? Do you think that I am going to let you destroy the efforts of a life without doing anything? I would rather KILL YOU!"
Colleen: "Oh NO! Please...You are scaring me! I didn't mean to do it... It was an accident! I beg you Mr. Harding... Show mercy to a hapless poor girl who is haunted by the cruelest fate... A girl, who would never dare to dream of becoming a real woman if it weren't for your great tolerance and kindness... I'll do anything... anything to make up for your loss... Please... just don't kill me..."
Dr. Harding: "Bah! You aren't worthy of my respect and generosity. It would be ridiculous to stain my hands with your unworthy blood. Instead, I'm going to teach you a lesson you will never forget. I should have done it since the first moment you set foot on my noble house. You are nothing but a filthy whore and henceforth I shall be treating you the way you deserve."
So spoke Dr. Harding, and with extreme haste, without relaxing the grip on her neck, he denuded her bubble buttocks, by folding the fishnet fabric around the waist, and put aside the red string, uncovering the puckered entrance of her narrow canal. Then, he unzipped his trousers and drew out his throbbing sword which looked incredibly thick and angry.
He guided the bruised head of his member to the threshold of her undefended opening and without warning he thrust it inside. By sheer reflection, she bucked her hips like an untamed mare and pulled her joined calves as much closer to her body as she could, letting out a desperate whine which could afflict even the most ruthless criminal on earth.
