From Cuckold to Collar by Bob Neils

Author:Bob Neils
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2019-02-11T05:00:00+00:00

Forty minutes later, we sat down to breakfast. Mistress was dressed in a simple pair of black tights and a grey oversized t-shirt. Her hair was loose and bouncy with curls once again, and her face was exquisitely made up, her lips, cheeks, and eyes as perfect as always.

As for me, I was naked. I had thought it was the right choice, since she had not given me permission to dress, but as she grabbed a slice of toast and dipped it into her eggs, I began to feel a little awkward.

Silly even.

“Tom.” She finished her bite of toast. As she swallowed, she reached across the table, her palm open, facing up. She smiled when I immediately placed my hand into hers. “I apologize for my abruptness this morning.”

I was taken aback. I had not expected an apology. It had never occurred to me that one might be needed.

“Having you as a live-in submissive is already paying huge dividends, and we haven’t even formally entered you into my service. That blowjob was lovely, and this breakfast is delightful, although we will have to talk calorie counts later.” She squeezed my hand. “As much thought as I had given all this, there were things I had not considered. Mornings being one of them.”

As much as I wanted to ask what she meant, to prompt her for more, I knew to wait.

“In the dungeon,” she told me, “life is all about the fantasy. We are the roles we play, with no past, and with no baggage to weight us down. There, you are the submissive cock-hungry cuckold, and I am the merciless shemale bitch.” She paused, and I could see that she was uncomfortable. “Here, in my home, we exist outside that fantasy. And that means seeing me at my worst, at my most natural.”

She squeezed my hand again. I slipped my other hand beneath the pair and squeezed back.

“Let me be blunt. You know that shemales are made, not born. We have already discussed my surgeries and my hormones, and you saw some of my costuming tricks last night as you undressed me. I guess I was just concerned that seeing me without makeup, with bags under my eyes, you might catch a glimpse of . . . well, of the before. That was why I hurried from the bed.”

“Mistress.” I smiled. “You have nothing to hide, and nothing to fear. I laid beside you for half an hour this morning, just staring at your face. Watching you sleep.” I turned our hands over and began gently stroking hers. “What I saw was simply your natural beauty, the shape of your femininity. I saw nothing to suggest otherwise.”

“I thank you for that.” This time when she smiled, I saw a tear escape her eye. “It’s a good thing we’re not formally collaring you quite yet,” she laughed. “I may need more time than I thought to find my footing with all this.” She released my hand and reached for another slice of toast.

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