The Housemate

Ok, I seem o have messed up somehow. Half the keywords for this story are missing.

It has BDSM, some sex and some femdom.

It all started when I was sitting in the social area at a play party.

I was talking with a domme I knew and happened to mention that we'd been given notice by our landlord. Seems he'd sold the house he was living in, and since the one we were renting was the next biggest one he owned, we were going to have to move.

I got along OK with most of my housemates, but there'd been some strain in recent months and we were likely going to be going our separate ways. Which meant going back to apartment living.

After living in various houses for 15 years, that was going to be a pain. Just dealing with my accumulated "stuff" was going to be a problem. But I couldn't afford a house on my own, even if I was making pretty good money.

Wendy'd drawn this out of me over an hour or so. Then she surprised me.

"Look, I know you fairly well, even if it's mostly from scene stuff. And conventions. I've kept kinda quiet about it, but I've inherited a house. It's way too big for me alone, but I don't want to sell it. Would you be interested in renting part of it from me?"

I thought about it.

"Well, I'd have to see it. And it'd be nice living someplace kink friendly."

Suddenly a thought struck me.

"You... you aren't looking for a live-in sub are you?"

"No. But we have done scenes with each other before. So doing scenes 'at home' sometimes isn't out of the question either."

"OK. That sounds reasonable. I suppose we can negotiate that later. Assuming I decide to rent from you."

She smiled at me, "One condition though."


"Well, if you want to be Sally outside your rooms, I want you to do it right. She's way too sloppy most of the time."

Sally was my alter-ego. I'd been introduced to cross-dressing by an online friend and sometimes domme who knew I like forced-femme stories and had pushed at me until I started dressing at some of the local kink events.

I enjoyed it, but I had to admit that I wasn't always that good at it.

"Well, I suppose that's reasonable. I'll need some help with it though."

Later that week I took a look at her place. It was a two story Tudor with a detached two car garage. The garage had a mother-in-law apartment over it.

The real surprise was when she took me through a gate in the hedge that I thought was the back of the property. There was a swimming pool and tennis court back there.

"Oh wow. I haven't had access to a pool in years."

"That's one of the reasons I want to keep the place. Even if it is a pain to take care of."

"Come on, it's not that hard, I used to take care of my ex-Big Brother's pool when I lived with him for a year."

That got a smile. "Oh, so if you move in I'll have my own pool boy?"

I grinned back. "Unless you want a pool girl."

"No, I think you'd do better as boy. At least in a really skimpy suit."


"And for that matter, if you take a look around, nobody can see back here. Heck, they can't even see people walking from the back door to the gate. So maybe I should make the pool clothing optional?"

I came back with "Fine by me. You've seen me at the dungeon often enough to know I'm an exhibitionist at heart anyway."

"Don't tempt me to make this area clothing forbidden for you," she joked.

"Well, you aren't my domme, but I wouldn't object too much."

After we finished the tour of the house I was very interested. She offered me two choices. One was the mother-in-law apartment. The other (and the one she'd rather rent to me) amounted to a small suite. A nice sized bedroom with a huge walk-in closet. It had its own bath and another attached room that'd be great for my books and computers.

As she explained it, she'd rather keep the apartment for when she did pro-domme stuff. I could see that, and after years of sharing a house with others, the isolation of the apartment might have been a bit much.

Yeah, it'd have been more private, but sometimes I needed to be around other people. And it'd have felt weird going to the house for that.

So we agreed that I'd rent the "suite". I got use of the kitchen and also a chunk of the basement for storage of the stuff I didn't want in my rooms. And the living room was shared as well.

All in all, not bad. The rent was more than my share of the house had been but considering how much better this house was, that was fine.

There were a couple of interesting bits as we finalized our deal. Besides a normal rental agreement, she'd also drawn up a set of "house rules". Mostly common sense stuff about keeping the shared areas clean and the like. But it also included the bit about Sally having to be nicely dressed. Along with a note that Wendy would provide some help if asked.

Wendy also asked me if I ever did self-bondage. When I finally admitted to it she just told me that she wanted me to post a note on my door letting her know so she could act as a safety if anything went wrong.

That went in the rules, with stuff about "dangerous/risky activities" requiring notification. She added something about my not being supposed to do them if she wasn't home unless I asked first.

We argued a bit but I gave in when she pointed out that I really didn't want to have something go wrong when she might not be home until the next day or something.

So we got things settled and she even helped me move in (she had a car, I didn't).

Things were OK the first month. On weekends I'd catch a ride with her to the play parties at the dungeon. Sometimes we rode back together, occasionally she'd leave early and I'd take a cab back.

My job went as it had been. Dealing with stupid users and trying to find bugs in the in-house software.

Sometimes she'd have friends over. A few times I ran into clients of hers. Not a big deal. Well, the first time I ran into one as Sally felt a bit odd, but I realized that even if I wasn't that passable, it wasn't as if a pro-domme's client had room to talk.

One day, when it was my turn to clean the common areas, I joked that I should be doing it in a maid's outfit. Wendy grinned and said that if I'd take all the cleaning, she'd supply me with uniforms.

Since we were both mostly neat (I did need an occasional reminder if I got caught up in a project) I said I'd think about.

A few days later I brought it up again. After some negotiation, I wound up with several uniforms from "boring, everyday maid" up to "scandalous French Maid"

I could wear them elsewhere (I was thinking of play parties) but if they got damaged there I had to pay for repairs. If I was wearing them at home, or went somewhere with Mistress Wendy (as opposed to just plain Wendy) then repairs were her responsibility.

She'd been after Sally to do a better job of hair removal, so she offered to go halves on waxings. Or to pay for laser treatments (and electrolysis later for any hair the laser treatments didn't get).

Since I'd been thinking about it for some time, I went with the laser. It was painful, but the results were nice. By mutual agreement the places that were hardest to reach were the first to get treated. My back and shoulders.

A few months later, Wendy asked if I'd be willing to do a "special" scene with her.

"I know you are quite a pain slut sometimes. This will involve a fair bit of pain, and not necessarily the type you like. But in the long run, I think you'll like where it goes. And if you do it, I'll give you two sex scenes later."

"Why later?"

"Because I don't think you'll be interested in sex for a while after this one. Though I'll try to work some in where I can."

With that, she explained what she had in mind. The folks doing the hair removal were ones she'd recommended and she'd talked with them (with my permission) about what could be expected with various areas.

Seems that certain areas on my body weren't suited for laser. And that electrolysis was going to be exceptionally unpleasant there. Specifically my genitals and between my ass cheeks.

I winced at being reminded.

Her idea was to try doing it as a scene. Build up some endorphins from more pleasant (for me) stuff and then tie me down and have one of the techs who was kinky start working on those areas with a portable setup.

Wendy knew me way too well. One of my hot buttons was endurance scenes. Ones where the point wasn't to "enjoy" things (the way floggings and spanking usually worked) but to challenge myself to see if I could endure the pain. Caning was generally that sort of scene for me.

This electrolysis session would likely be that sort of challenge.

I had to think about it. A lot. Finally I agreed. I even asked her to make it a "no safeword" scene. That is, until we hit a previously agreed stopping point, the scene would continue unless she or the tech decided it needed to end.

I know it sounds crazy, but that sort of helplessness was a major turn-on for me. Mind you, I rather expected that in this case, as with a few in the past, the turn on factor wouldn't last.

But since I'd need this done eventually anyway the only difference was the speed/intensity.

Oh yeah, they could use anesthetic creams or the like, but given the areas being dealt with, I'd sort of feel like I was cheating by avoiding a chance to experience the "torture".

Yes, us masochists are weird. What's your point?

And since hair goes in cycles, most areas need to be gone over two to four times months apart. So when time for the repeat came around I might feel differently.

Anyway, that's how one fine day I got dressed in the most scandalous French Maid outfit and got led over to the dungeon over the garage.

I got bent over a "horse". My (skimpy) panties were removed. Then I was spanked with increasing intensity. Hard enough to hurt, but soft enough to let endorphins build. We went from Mistress Wendy's hand to a paddle to this huge strap I had.

Oh god, it hurt so good.

She helped me up from the horse (and I needed help, I was flying on the endorphins) and let me look at my ass in a full length mirror. It was all reds and purples. I knew the bruises would last for days and give me reminders every time I sat down for most of the week.

Then I had to sit (gingerly) on this crotchless chair. Sort of like a birthing chair, I'm told. My skirts (which didn't cover much to begin with) were pulled above my waist.

Mistress Wendy tied me down well.

"Well, I see that spankings still turn you on," was her comment regarding the erection that was standing so firmly. She idly stroked it as the tech set up.

"Good, that'll make it easier to get at some of the hairs" was all the tech said.

Mistress Wendy didn't let me come. I wanted to, but we'd agreed that it'd be a bad idea during the treatment.

Of course, I should have realized that given the erection, the tech would start with the hairs on my cock.

My erection was quickly a thing of the past. And I was biting down on a rubber bit that Mistress Wendy offered.

I tried to recall the break points we'd discussed. I think the first was after my cock and part of the pubic area was done (I wanted to keep a neat triangle of hair about an inch above the base of my cock, so there was a fair bit of pubic hair to do)

It was much easier to take when the tech moved from my cock to the pubic hair. But my cock still hung limp over my balls while she did it.

Finally Mistress Wendy and the tech conferred for a minute. And went for the next area. My balls. That was worse than my cock. But I fought to endure the agonies.

After an eternity, there was another pause. And they went on to the other half of my scrotum.

I don't recall a pause when they went for the final area, my perineum and the crack.

It took me a minute or two to realize that it was over.

Mistress Wendy stroked my forehead and told me to relax. She wouldn't let me up for a long time. At last I was helped to my feet and Wendy walked me down the stairs.

At the door I suddenly remembered that I wasn't wearing panties.

"Trust me, you wouldn't be very comfortable in them right now."

"But if anybody looks they'll see everything!"

Mistress Wendy was suddenly back. "So? If I want you to show off, you'll show off. Besides, I know how much you hope somebody will see you."

It was exactly the right thing to say. In spite of the aches and the washed out feeling, I did my best to straighten up. And I did my best try at wiggling my ass as I walked to the house on Mistress Wendy's arm.

She later told me that it had gotten dark and nobody could have seen anything anyway. Even so, when I felt better a few days later, that walk between the house and the garage was major masturbation fodder.

It was a good thing we'd done it early on a Friday. I needed the weekend to recover. Things were still a bit tender when I went to work Monday. I wore the most comfortable pair of panties I owned so as to not aggravate the still tender spots.

Once the redness went away I quite liked the bare look. And it made it easier when I used Nair on the areas that still needed it.

Wendy made good on her promise. We had a couple scenes that had me pleading for release. Which, when it finally came left me feeling drained.

Wendy caught me going commando under my maid uniforms a few times. She threatened to punish me if I did it again.

I was hoping she'd spank me or something. Alas, she knew better. Spankings are rewards for folks like me.

Instead, she confiscated all my sexy underwear and left me the dowdiest maid uniform. She threatened to take away the rest of Sally's sexy outfits as well.

I pouted but accepted the punishment.

A week or so later, she returned my things.

"Next time you want to be that naughty, ask. If I'm not expecting anyone who might not want to be exposed to that, I might let you. Just remember. Sally is supposed to be dressing properly."

So I'd do it in my rooms and occasionally ask. She never said no. Though a few times she'd ask me when we were going to a play party.

The next big change was when I forgot to put a note on the door and was trying some new bondage toys.

The ice lock took a lot longer to melt than I'd expected. And then Wendy wanted to talk to me about something and got grunts through my gag when she knocked on the door.

First thing she did was check to make sure I was OK, Then she looked me over.

"Someone's been a bad girl."

She'd flipped up my skirt to check and see what sort of bondage I might have under it.

Which meant she'd seen the chastity tube I had on.

She left the room for a minute and came back. She showed me a lock.

Then she went over to my keys where they sat on the nightstand.

It didn't take her long to find the key for the chastity and swap her lock for mine.

"There, that should do. I'll be checking on you until the ice melts. Unless you want out now?"

I sighed. She could have done far worse. And I wasn't all that uncomfortable. So I tried to get a "no" out past the gag.

True to her word, she stuck her head in every few minutes until I was free.

I changed into a different dress (the one I'd been wearing was way too slutty to wear in the rest of the house) and went down to face the music.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have forgotten the note."

"Looked like you'd messed up on the release too, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I think the ice lock got under the covers and took too long to melt."

"Well, this definitely calls for punishment. And I suspect that you aren't all that heartbroken that's now my lock on your chastity, are you?"

I hung my head. "No. It's kinda nice to be controlled. But you know that."

"Oh, I do. The question is, do you want to take things to a new level. We've been living together long enough to have a good idea of how stuff might work haven't we?"

I just nodded. I'd had a lot of fantasies when I'd moved in, even though I knew they weren't all that realistic. Over the months I'd been living with her, they'd changed. I had a much better idea of what she was like. And she knew me better as well.

"OK, I don't think either of us would do well with a 24/7 setup. You've got your job and interests and so do I. But I think we share enough interests, and, well... needs that we can go a lot farther than we have."

So we set to negotiating.

What we wound up with was a six month trial. At home and at "events" she'd be Mistress Wendy unless we agreed to a break. Either of us could ask.

After she found out that I'd worn the chastity for a week at a time a few times, Wendy asked for control of it for a month to start. As she explained it, maybe she'd let me out and give me an orgasm during the month. Or maybe not.

More discussion had me being Sally at home unless she wanted otherwise. I had to wear panties the rest of the time (not exactly a hardship) And bras and breast forms when I wasn't at work.

As you might have expected from my earlier comments, discipline and rewards got interesting. Spankings and the like had to be earned. Punishments? Well besides denial of privileges (rather limited as we'd agreed that work and friends were off limits) she came up with an evil one. She knew I loathed several foods.

Eating beets might not sound like much of a punishment, but trust me it's pretty awful if you are me.

At the end of that first month I'd been released and teased several times. But not granted an orgasm. I thought long and hard. And when she handed me the key I started to hand it back.

"If you give it back, I've got control until the end of our trail period. That's another five months. And I might just tease you every day and then lock you back up. Can you handle that?"

I swallowed and gave her the answer I'd worked out over the last few weeks.

"I wouldn't have a choice about it. That's the whole point, isn't it?"

She smiled at me as she took back the key. And gave me a hug.

The next five months had their ups and downs. I was getting really good at being Sally. And she actually did do as she'd threatened. No orgasms, just a lot of frustration.

Well, actually no orgasms in the normal way. It happened at a play party. I was strung up, naked except for my bra. And folks were taking turns spanking me with a heavy paddle. I could feel the blows all the way through me. And I was starting to "feel funny" down there. I didn't have an erection though. Not because the chastity wouldn't allow one either. Just limp inside the tube.

The "funny" feelings got stronger. Every blow of the paddle was a pulse of something in my crotch.

I started panting out "Oh god. Oh god" with the blows. And then it happened. I could feel the orgasm.

I screamed out "Oh GOD. Don't stop!" even as some of the onlookers pointed out the ejaculate dripping from the tube.

Fortunately whoever was on the paddle just then had a clue and kept up the rhythm. I think I came a little with every blow for a dozen blows. When it was obvious that I'd finished, Mistress asked if I wanted them to stop. I shook my head.

"Sally? What's your safeword?" I guess she was worried that I was too far out of things.

"My... safeword... is red..." I said with a grunt from the paddling between each word.

Then I raised my head and smiled at her. "Ma'am... Kelly ... fucking ... Green... Ma'am"

The paddling went on as the onlookers laughed.

A while later I had another orgasm. I was willing to try for a third but Mistress decided I'd had enough.

Given how limp I was when she helped me down, maybe she was right.

We had a nice cuddle as I recovered.

That lead to some exploration. We both asked around and did a lot of web searches. Those lead to a lot of experiments. Most didn't work, but we found a few winners.

In spite of our best tries, even years later I still can't get off from just nipple play. But I can get incredibly horny/needy from it. I plead desperately after a while, but I just can't quite get there. Still loads of fun, in spite of the frustration.

It also makes a good way to get me ready to try other things.

The one that gets me looked at funny is something we wouldn't have even considered if I wasn't a pain slut. Found the description out on the web, and I was interested. Even if it didn't get me off, it was the stuff of some of my fantasies.

So, there I was, with my balls tightly wrapped in "co-flex" bandages (aka "vet-wrap"). And I mean tightly. They were trapped at the bottom of the sac and wrapped so tightly that they ached. And there was no way they could escape anything.

Mistress took hold between the balls and my body (the wrapped skin made a good handle) with her left hand. Then she started punching the wrapped balls with her other hand.

Oh, it hurt. But it hurt "good". And I was soon feeling the weird "pulsing" in my crotch with every blow. It was building. Closer and closer. I screamed out "Noooo!" completely involuntarily.

Mistress looked at me and I gasped out "Green". So she kept punching.

And in a few more minutes I screamed as I came.

Oh, I was sore afterwards. But I didn't care. We don't do that one often, but it's always good for freaking onlookers when we do it at a play party.

Actually we don't do any of them very often. Because Mistress knows I like tease and denial games. And that means that I only get an orgasm once a month or so most of the time.

She discovered prostate milking. She likes the fact that while it eases the "buildup" of sperm (it's good to drain the prostate every so often) it doesn't give me an orgasm. Stuff just dribbles out while I feel like I came close to an orgasm but didn't get it. If anything it leaves me hornier.

Mind you the kinky stuff wasn't the only thing going on.

Wendy'd been helping me get Sally passable. Not just my clothing choices, but acting like a woman as well.

Moving like a woman was the hardest part. Not just the walk. I picked that up with only a little trouble. Biggest problem was that I'd keep slipping between a "male" walk and a female one. I could tell when I had it right, but kept losing it if I didn't concentrate.

Gestures and other body language were a lot harder. And my voice was hopeless for a long time.

I really regretted the "friends" that'd "helped" me act more like a "normal guy" when I was a teenager. At the time, it might have been safer for me. But now it was just that much more to unlearn. Sigh.

On the plus side, I picked up makeup really fast. Wendy told me I'd avoided the usual mistake of going too heavy with everything.

She started taking me to the local clubs. We started with the ones that were LGBT friendly (some of which I'd gone to in guy mode in the past) and after a few months were going to regular clubs as well.

I had a bit of crisis when I realized that not only were guys looking at me, but I was looking at them.

Again, it was Wendy to the rescue. She was an ear to listen and sometimes a shoulder to cry on.

In a way it's odd that this hit me so hard. I'd known I was bi since I was a teen. But somehow, the clubs made it feel different. And it wasn't just the fear of some straight guy getting the wrong idea and then reacting badly.

I'm not sure which was the biggest breakthrough. The first mostly straight guy I accepted a date with (yes, I'd told him, but I'd also told him sex wasn't on the menu) or the first lesbian.

Both were kinda weird. But after a bit I relaxed and we just danced and otherwise had a good time.

But those were unusual. More frequent were dates with gay or bi guys that liked the fact that I wasn't 100% girl. And a few bi women.

What's that? Oh yeah, Wendy was my Domme. And my friend. But odd as it seems she wasn't my lover.

Given the nature of our relationship, she did control some things. She wanted to meet my potential dates. It was embarrassing (and a turn on) when she'd explain that she was my domme and ask if they were interested in having sex with me.

I lost a few that way. But others were intrigued by the idea of my sex life being controlled by someone else.

Mind you, it wasn't that I wasn't allowed to say "no" to sex with a date. It was that I had to have permission before I could say yes.

I remember the lesbian who made a point of talking to me about how I was locked up and "safe" while I went down on her. Then there were the guys that I sucked. I actually loved that.

But I think the best of all was the first time a guy fucked me. He was gentle and took his time. I loved it all the more because he didn't even mention my guy parts.

In spite of everything, I never wanted to get rid of them. They worked when they were allowed to. Just being able to (mostly) live like a woman was fine.

After a couple of years, I asked Wendy if she'd mind if I went farther. Yes, Wendy. This was not a discussion that should be held as Mistress/sub. But as a friend asking advice.

I also talked with the HR folks at work. They couldn't actually go after me for being trans, but if they'd wanted to, they could have found other reasons to fire me.

So it was that several months later I got a set of implants. Not huge. Just B cup. The surgeon said that without hormones and the attending breast growth, the skin wouldn't really support anything bigger.

Hormones were out because I wanted to retain functionality of my genitals. After all, if they didn't work anyway, then where was the fun of locking them away?

Anyway, a couple months later, I started going to work as Sally. Most folks didn't really care. There were a few who gave me the evil eye, but not many.

For my birthday that year, I got a special present. I was unlocked and rather than being allowed to jack off to an orgasm, Wendy asked if I'd like to make love to her.

We both knew it wouldn't be a regular thing, but I was touched.

Afterwards, Mistress Wendy returned and offered me a different present. A new chastity, Rather than a "cage" held on by a ring behind the balls, this was a tube secured by a piercing.

It'd been custom made. There were several advantages. It'd hide more easily, it'd fit more securely, and it'd be even more of an indication of "ownership" when it was on display.

Best of all, she'd been told that they could size it so as to keep me stretched to full length and allow enough swelling to prevent the shrinkage that sometimes occurs with other chastity devices.

There was another aspect of the custom sizing that she said she'd keep as a surprise. She promised it'd be a pleasant one.

So it was that I got the piercing. And had to wait several months for it to heal enough that using it to anchor the tube wouldn't damage anything.

Several sessions of measuring and fitting took place. I was rather interested in the fittings. As a confirmed geek I very interested when they explained that they made the trial units for fitting on a 3D printer.

It let them get some amazing fits. And do customization that hadn't been practical in the past.

At last I was fitted with the final unit. The locking rods went through the piercings and it was locked in place. It was actually very comfortable. Heavy, so I always knew it was there but not too heavy. Slightly curved so as to tuck into my panties more easily.

Then Mistress Wendy showed me the surprise. She started playing with my nipples, then applied a vibrator to the tube. I started to swell. I could feel the tube pushing back. It didn't hurt. It felt like a really firm grip on my cock. But I couldn't get fully hard.

When she kept playing with my nipples and told me to go ahead and play with the tube, I realized what was going on. I couldn't get fully hard, neither could I move the tube up and down. So I couldn't jack off either.

The best (worst?) was when Mistress quit playing with my nipples. I had this ache in my crotch. I wanted to get harder. I wanted to cum. But neither was possible. At the same time the grip was enough to keep me quite aroused (and unfulfilled) for some time.

"Now for the capper."

I wondered what more there could be. She fitted a sort of cap onto the end of the tube (ow! Bad pun).

"Now try to fuck me."

It was wonderful. I couldn't feel much. I was aroused and unable to get off. But I could fuck her (or other people). It was the perfect tease and denial toy.

I couldn't thank her enough.

She removed the cap with a comment about "we'll see how you feel about it in a few months."

The next time she threw a party, it was "in scene". She had me waiting on the guests in high heels, stockings, a maids cap and a frilly collar. So my breasts and my chastised cock were on display. It was sort of a "coming out" party.

I was in heaven. This was the sort of thing I used to dream about.

And all because I happened to mention having to move.

My life may be strange by most folks standards, but I like it. I get to live as (mostly) a woman. I have friends and a few "friends with benefits". None of whom give me grief about my life choices.

I may not have very much in the way of "sex" as normal people think of it, but I have more than enough of the sort I want.

Wendy and I sometimes talk about whether I should give up male orgasms forever. It's a fascinating thought. But so far we agree that it's more tantalizing to leave it open. Anticipation being a very powerful force.

Besides, while they aren't the same, the ones I get from S&M or being fucked are quite nice.

Well, I have to go. I've got a date with Grace and George tonight.

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