A young and arrogant lawyer is sent to rehab by his girlfriend
We meet once again, I continue looking for my style and I await your comments on this story, the idea is to start very slowly and advance little by little in a spiral of perversion, therefore, I think it will be a little longer than usual, I hope you like it.
As always, I look forward not only to your comments but also to your fantasies, which will be a pleasure to transform into a story.
Story translated with the help of AI
Ana Rachel
Educating My Boyfriend
First Part
The Party
Valentina and Martín attended a charity society event, one of the many held in the city. At first glance, they could not have been more different. He wore an impeccable black suit, a white Mao-collar shirt, and perfectly matching shoes. His hair was short, almost military-style, perfectly combed. He radiated an air of confidence and self-sufficiency, as if he were not a guest but the master of ceremonies.
She, on the other hand, was slim—almost disheveled. She wore a long cream-colored dress that didn’t quite fit her well. Her hair was tangled in a clumsy attempt at an updo, with almost no makeup. Her footwear consisted of a pair of simple loafers. Her gaze was constantly fixed on the floor, and the aura around her practically screamed, “I don’t want to be here.” Her discomfort was obvious.
Martín simply ignored her. He moved from group to group, chatting with acquaintances and strangers alike, seeking contacts for his law firm—all without bothering to introduce his girlfriend. She followed him with a submissive attitude.
Occasionally, her boyfriend would make some comment, always dismissive:
“Come on, little mouse, there’s someone I want to greet.”
“You should have put a bit more effort into your appearance.”
“Don’t embarrass me.”
“There’s a group over there I need to meet.”
“Lift your head, you’re making me look bad.”
“If you’re so uncomfortable, why don’t you just leave?” etc.
The evening was pure torture—a constant parade of groups of people who meant nothing to her and who only represented social climbing opportunities for him.
When they finally left and were in the car heading home, she could no longer hold back and began to cry.
“And what’s this about?” he asked.
“You ignored me all night. You didn’t even introduce me as your girlfriend. Do I embarrass you that much?”
“I’m sorry to say it like this, but you’re so shy, so socially awkward, that yes—you do embarrass me.”
“Then why did you bring me?”
“I couldn’t come alone. At these kinds of events, people expect you to bring your partner. I had hoped you would mature and behave properly, but apparently I was wrong.”
She continued crying silently until she finally managed to ask between sobs:
“Then why are you still with me?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. Sometimes I think it’s pity, other times I feel I really care about you.”
His answer only made her cry harder, deepening the pain and loneliness she felt in that moment. They arrived at his apartment, and she finally gathered enough courage to say, as she slammed the car door shut:
“Don’t call me anymore. There’s a limit to what I can tolerate.”
“Women,” he thought. “After everything I’ve done for her.”
The next day, after work, she went for a drink with her friend Silvia. They had both started at the company together, both originally with the same shy and insecure appearance. However, a radical change had taken place in her friend over the last two years.
Her appearance was completely different: a tailored suit, a square neckline that almost displayed her bust, nylon stockings, moderately high heels, soft but somehow severe makeup, and an air of confidence that Valentina deeply envied.
No less significant was that Silvia was now her boss, while she remained a secretary—stuck in exactly the same position while her friend had a promising career ahead.
Between sobs, she told her about the previous night’s experience: how humiliated she had felt and how she had finally gathered the strength to tell Martín she never wanted to see him again.
“What will become of me now? Despite everything, I still love him.”
“That’s nonsense,” her friend replied. “Unless you enjoy being humiliated.”
“Of course not. I don’t like it, but I can’t help it. I’m not like you.”
“Maybe you are. You have the potential. Remember when we started at the company? Both young, inexperienced, shy, and insecure.”
“Of course, but you’ve changed. Look at yourself now.”
“I didn’t do it alone. I had help.”
“You’re not going to send me to therapy. They don’t offer a personality change like car maintenance.”
“No, it’s not therapy. Here,” she said, handing her a card.
“And this? AME? What is it, a cult?”
“No. It stands for Association of Empowered Women—a group I belong to. I’m actually the treasurer, if you’re interested.”
“What are they going to do? Give me a course?”
“More or less. You could say they’ll help you see things differently. Trust me, call and schedule an interview. You have nothing to lose.”
“Fine. If I don’t, you’ll be on my case every day.”
Later, she called the number on the card and scheduled an interview for the following week. While she waited, she received countless calls and messages from Martín—some apologizing, others saying he missed her and couldn’t live without her. Once he even sent a huge bouquet of flowers to her house with a card saying he loved her.
At one point she was tempted to reply and accept getting back together. Fortunately, her friend stopped her:
“Of course, you’ll get back together and at first everything will be fine, but how long until the mistreatment starts again?”
“I know you’re right. It’s just that he’s so different when we’re alone. In those moments he’s attentive, diligent, polite, and affectionate. The problem is when we’re in front of other people—especially men. He feels the need to show off as an unbearable alpha male.”
“Do this: ignore him for now. Wait until you have the interview with the AME director, evaluate your options, and then decide.”
“That’s best. I don’t want to go back to the same thing.”
Time passed, and the day of the interview arrived.
“Silvia, I’m going to the interview. I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” she told her boss and friend, partly informing her and partly asking permission.
“Don’t worry. Marta will cover for you while you’re gone.”
“It won’t be that long,” Valentina said and left, missing the smile that appeared on her boss’s face.
“We’ll see,” Silvia said to herself.
Valentina took a taxi to the address she had been given. It was a tower building, headquarters of an important multinational. At the reception desk she was stopped by two women in security uniforms.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. What is the purpose of your visit?”
“Good afternoon. I’m Valentina Rodriguez and I have an appointment with Mrs. Viviana Espinosa.”
“One moment please,” said the woman at the desk as she picked up the phone. “Valentina Rodriguez is here… Perfect.”
“Yes, Mrs. Rodriguez, they’re expecting you. Please take the private elevator that goes directly to the 24th floor.”
A private elevator—she had heard of them but had never met anyone important enough to have one.
When she reached the 24th floor, she found a modern reception area with glass and stainless steel everywhere. The walls were decorated with avant-garde paintings by artists unknown to her.
One of the secretaries said:
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Rodriguez. Director Espinosa is finishing a video conference and will see you shortly. Please have a seat.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like tea, coffee, or another beverage?”
“A coffee would be excellent, thank you.”
“My colleague will prepare it right away.” The second secretary stood up and went to a small room behind the desk. At that moment the intercom sounded and a voice said:
“Please send Mrs. Rodriguez in.”
The first secretary stood up, opened a large double door, and said to Valentina:
“Please come in. We’ll bring your coffee in a moment.”
Upon entering Viviana Espinosa’s office, our protagonist felt her chest tighten. It was enormous—impossible to calculate its dimensions.
The Director was seated behind a glass desk. Behind her, an immense window offered a view of almost the entire city. To the right of the desk was a three-seater sofa with a small coffee table in front of it. On the left side, the wall was entirely covered by a library.
After the initial impact of the size and luxury of the office, Valentina received another shock when Viviana stood up and walked toward her.
She was a woman of about 45–50 years old, very well-groomed, with exquisite makeup that matched the color of her nails. She was blonde, with her hair styled in an elegant updo that exposed her neck, showcasing a matching necklace and earrings.
Her generous bust was highlighted by a square neckline. Her pencil skirt, ending five centimeters above her knees, accentuated her buttocks (surely toned at the gym). Her long legs ended in a pair of stiletto heels of at least twelve centimeters.
“Hello Valentina, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” the director said kindly. “Silvia has told me a lot about you.”
Despite her kindness and warm words, there was an unmistakable air of confidence and authority in every movement. Clearly, this woman never accepted “no” for an answer. At the same time, she didn’t need to raise her voice to impose herself. She was the personification of determination.
“Thank you. Honestly, I think I need help, and Silvia has recommended this association highly.”
“Wait, I think there’s a misunderstanding. This building doesn’t belong to the association. We’re actually a relatively small group. As director of the company, I have certain privileges, and I prefer to conduct the interviews here.”
At that moment the door opened and the second secretary served Valentina her coffee.
“Would you like anything, Viviana?”
“No thank you, Samantha, but do me a favor and bring Valentina’s file.”
Samantha left and returned shortly with a rather thick file.
“Here it is, Viviana. The analysis is in the last pages.”
“Thank you, Samantha. You’re a sweetheart.”
“A file?” asked Valentina.
“Of course. As soon as you requested the interview and Silvia contacted us, we opened a file and began gathering information to determine if you had potential and if we could work with you.”
“You investigated me?”
“Only your social media. Does that bother you?”
“It’s an ambiguous feeling. On one hand, it shows you work seriously and prepared to help me. On the other, I feel violated.”
“Don’t exaggerate. We only took information you yourself published on social media. We didn’t access your email or phone. We didn’t intrude on your privacy—only on what you made public. The only difference is that we compiled it all, cross-referenced it (including Martín’s, yes, we know who he is), and created a profile.”
“And you can do that from my posts?”
“You wouldn’t believe what they reveal. The photos you uploaded, the posts you liked—individually they say nothing, but when analyzed together, they say a lot. Especially in your ex-boyfriend’s case: we found a second profile on social media that was simply fascinating.”
“So what can you tell me?”
“Let’s start with Martín. I can assure you that his public posture is actually a façade, a kind of denial mechanism. All he’s looking for is someone to guide him, but he doesn’t know it yet and pretends he’s in control. In private, however, he relaxes and his true personality emerges: attentive, kind, polite, and willing to serve.”
“That explains a lot, especially his attitude when we’re in front of other people.”
“Exactly. Particularly men. When he’s in front of another man, he feels compelled to prove he’s an equal. Fortunately, we have methods that would allow us to treat him.”
“And what does the evaluation say about me?”
“Your case is simply fascinating. You have incredible potential—so much so that I believe in a short time you could hold an executive position in the AME.”
“Me? Look at me. I’m the opposite of you—not only in the way I dress, I don’t have even a tenth of your confidence.”
“Don’t be mistaken. The way you dress is just appearance—it’s a way of telling the world your place on the scale. Besides, I said potential. Your case is almost the reverse of Martín’s. We could say you have an emotional block that prevents you from showing who you really are.”
“An emotional block?”
“Yes. We’re not interested in the cause—it could be a traumatic experience, your upbringing, whatever. The fact is, we can resolve that block so you can show yourself as you truly are.”
“And how? Therapy? I’ve tried and it didn’t work.”
“It’s a bit more intense than therapy. We could call it intensive training.”
“Well, what are the schedules? When do I start?”
“Right now. Samantha will take you to our headquarters and your training will begin. It will last approximately one month.”
“One month? Impossible. I have work. I can’t take vacation right now.”
“Don’t worry. Silvia has already arranged a thirty-day medical leave. During that time, you will live at our headquarters while we work on your case.”
At that moment, as if waiting for a signal, Samantha entered.
“Mrs. Valentina, come with me. I’ll take you to the house/headquarters.”
Valentina almost automatically followed the secretary to the elevator. They descended to the basement where a car with a driver was waiting. He opened the door for them, and once inside, Samantha said:
“To the house, please.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the driver replied. Valentina was struck by the respect with which he addressed the secretary.
Second Part
One Month Later
When, exactly thirty days later, Valentina entered Viviana’s company again, she was a completely different person from the one a month earlier. She now knew with certainty that her style of dress was not about being fashionable, attracting attention, or looking elegant. Her clothing was a language that declared: “I am in charge.”
Standing tall, almost exposing the bust she used to hide by hunching her shoulders, with a confidence unknown to her until recently, she approached the reception desk, feeling the caress of the corset that molded her waist and accompanied by the sound of her heels on the marble floor.
“Good morning. I have an appointment with Mrs. Viviana Espinosa. She’s expecting me.”
“Your name, please?”
“Valentina Rodriguez.”
“One second,” said the security guard as she announced her on the phone.
“Mrs. Espinosa is waiting for you. You may take the private elevator…”
“I know the way. Thank you.”
She took the elevator and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was now perfectly styled in an elegant updo. She wore matching earrings, necklace, and bracelets, light but severe makeup, a fitted dress that highlighted her figure, natural-colored nylon stockings with a seam (she had learned this was a fetish few men could resist), long nails painted the same intense red as her lips, and finally, twelve-centimeter stiletto heels.
When she reached the 24th floor, she presented herself at the secretarial desk.
“Good morning, Samantha. I believe Viviana is expecting me.”
“Yes, of course, ma’am. What a joy to see you again. If you’ll allow me, I must congratulate you on your appearance.”
“Thank you, Samantha. It’s also a pleasure to see you. May I go in?”
“You’re the last one. Please go ahead.”
That phrase made her think she wouldn’t be seeing Viviana alone as last time. Who or who else would be accompanying her?
The answer came quickly. When the secretary opened the door, she saw that her mentor was seated on the sofa with her old friend Silvia, whom she hadn’t seen since she left the office for the interview.
They greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek.
“Darling, you look beautiful,” said Viviana.
“It’s not that much. This is just the reflection of an inner change I must thank you for.”
“And what a change,” commented Silvia. “Little remains of that shy and insecure Valentina.”
“I can assure you that thanks to the training I received this past month, nothing remains of that woman.”
“What joy. But let’s sit down and talk about what we do from here on. But first: Samantha, could you bring three glasses and the bottle of champagne we have reserved?”
“Are we toasting?”
“Of course,” replied Viviana. “After all, we have to celebrate your birth.”
“I would rather call it enlightenment,” responded Valentina.
Seated and drinking champagne, they discussed Valentina’s future, her new equal position in the company alongside Silvia, how the learning process had gone, etc.
“There’s still one matter to discuss,” mentioned Silvia.
“Which one?”
“What you want to do with Martín. As I see it, there are two alternatives. The first is to forget about him completely, leave him to his fate, and let another woman have to put up with him.”
“And the second?”
“There’s the possibility of educating him. As you know, from the file Viviana opened, we know that beneath that artificial shell hides a shy and submissive personality. We could very well remove the emotional barriers so he accepts being your servant.”
“Actually, the second alternative attracts me for several reasons. First, I don’t even want to think about him making another woman suffer as he did with me. Another motivation is that in some way he would be paying for all the suffering he caused me. And finally, I must confess that the idea of having a servant at my feet excites me very much.”
“Then it’s decided,” replied Viviana. “I’ll call security right now so they can take care of him and bring him to the house for training.”
“Will I be able to participate in his education? Or do you suggest I stay away?”
“On the contrary, darling,” replied Silvia. “It’s essential that you participate to create a bond of submission from him toward you.”
“Excellent. I’m already enjoying it.”
At that moment Samantha entered and announced:
“Viviana, security has arrived.”
“Good. Don’t waste time. Let them in.”
Two women entered the office, both with prominent busts, dressed in security uniforms: a cute beret on their heads, long-sleeved blue shirts buttoned to the neck, black ties, fitted skirts, black stockings, and shoes with square heels. Both wore wide belts with various items: an intercom and a stun gun. Their overall appearance was quite intimidating.
“Come in, please. These are Verónica and Graciela, my personal security. I need a favor from you.”
“Of course, Viviana,” they replied in unison.
“Here is this man’s file. If you’d be so kind, could you invite him politely to the association’s house?”
“How politely?” asked one of them.
“As politely as possible. And if he’s not willing to accept the invitation, feel free to use whatever means necessary.”
“Consider it done, Viviana,” replied the other. “Give us a couple of hours to review the file and we assure you he’ll be at the house this afternoon.”
“Thank you very much. What would I do without you?”
The two security agents left, ready to fulfill the request, and Valentina wondered how much “politeness” would be necessary for Martín to accept the invitation.
She would find out soon enough.
**Third Part**
**The Invitation**
Martín left the building where he worked at the law firm, somewhat annoyed because a case he considered simple had become complicated at the last moment and threatened to ruin his winning trial statistics. He began walking toward the parking lot when a black SUV with tinted windows parked right in front of him. Two uniformed women got out and approached him, saying:
“Good afternoon. We were sent by Mrs. Viviana Espinosa. We need you to come with us.”
The name Viviana Espinosa made Martín hesitate for a moment. She was the well-known CEO of an important multinational, and he immediately began speculating about what benefit he might gain from this.
“Please, we ask that you accompany us,” said one of them.
“First tell me what Viviana Espinosa wants from me.”
“She will explain it to you personally.”
“No way. I’m not going with you until I know why.”
The other woman made a gesture of impatience, took the stun gun, and applied a shock directly to Martín’s neck, interrupting him mid-sentence.
“I was already getting tired of this, Verónica,” said the one who had applied the shock.
“I know you have little patience, Graciela, but at least help me load him into the van.”
Between the two of them, in full view of everyone, they loaded Martín into the SUV while telling the driver:
“Straight to the house.”
When the vehicle started moving, Martín could not react, seized by the convulsions caused by the electric shock. Before he regained control of his body, he felt himself being gagged, a blindfold placed over his eyes, and his wrists handcuffed behind his back.
“We asked you politely,” said Graciela, “but as a stubborn fool, you didn’t want to listen.”
He was still suffering convulsions when they apparently arrived at their destination. The SUV’s movement changed; he heard them driving on a gravel path before finally stopping. The doors opened and he felt himself being lifted and placed on what seemed to be a stretcher. As they moved, he heard doors opening and closing, and the clicking of his captors’ heels on what was apparently a marble floor.
Finally, they took him by the arms and legs, stripped him, sat him on a chair, and quickly handcuffed his ankles to the chair legs and his hands behind the backrest. He was beginning to regain control of his body when they removed the gag and blindfold from his eyes. He was in a room approximately four meters by four meters, completely empty except for the chair he was sitting on.
“Now you’re going to stay quiet if you know what’s good for you,” said the one named Graciela, who seemed to be the more violent of the two.
“In a moment the Lady will come and explain how things are,” said the other, Verónica, who at least seemed a little kinder.
In some way they made it noticeable that they used a capital “L” when speaking of the Lady. He hoped it was Viviana Espinosa. When he saw her, he would demand explanations and they would release him immediately.
His surprise was enormous when, instead, he saw Valentina enter. For a moment he didn’t recognize her—she was so changed, not only in appearance but in the way she moved. The confidence and calm in every movement were almost palpable. She approached until she was beside him, almost touching him. He could clearly smell her perfume.
“Hello Martín. It’s been a while.”
“Valentina, get me out of here right now! What is this madness!!!”
**Slap!!!** The sound of the slap she gave him echoed, leaving a mark on his face. Then, caressing his cheek, she said:
“Lady or Mistress to you right now.”
“What madness is this!!!”
**Slap!!!** Another slap, followed by a new caress that contrasted the softness of the last with the violence of the first.
“It seems you don’t understand. Do I have to repeat myself?”
“It’s not necessary to go to this extreme.”
Valentina then lifted her left leg and pressed her twelve-centimeter stiletto heel against Martín’s testicles, asking again:
“So, how will you address me?”
“Lady… Lady or Mistress.”
“Very good. You see how simple it is. From now on you have two options: obey, which will lead you down the path of pleasure, or resist, which will lead you down the path of suffering. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“You see how easy it is and how you’ve obeyed. Verónica and Graciela, if you’d be so kind.”
At that moment the two guards approached. One of them knelt between Martín’s legs and took his member into her mouth, beginning to kiss it, while the other began to caress his chest, pinch his nipples, and kiss his neck.
Shortly afterward, he ended up ejaculating into Verónica’s mouth. Instead of swallowing his semen, she simply tried to kiss him. He instinctively closed his lips. Graciela then covered his nose until, lacking air, he had to open his mouth. Verónica took advantage of the moment to kiss him and make him drink his own orgasm.
“Get used to the taste,” said Valentina. She turned around and left.
Then his two captors removed the handcuffs and left, closing the door. He remained in the center of the room, naked, not knowing what to expect.
When she left the room, Valentina found Viviana and Silvia waiting for her, eager for news.
“We’ve already started. He recognized me as his Mistress after some resistance.”
“I have some drugs and hypnotic audio files ready if you want to use them,” said Silvia.
“I understand that you like to program your servants and your proposal is really attractive, but in this case I want to break him, tear down his emotional barriers one by one so that he accepts—no, better yet, so that he desires to be a sissy at my service.”
“Excellent choice,” interrupted Viviana. “He will desire to be at your service and will do anything to please you. I can say that the student has surpassed the teacher.”
“Please, you will always be my role model,” replied Valentina. “Now, why don’t we go have some tea while we let Martina mature a little?”
Meanwhile, Martín had been left naked and alone in the windowless room. At least he was no longer handcuffed or gagged, but the feeling of vulnerability that invaded him at that moment was worse. He was in the hands of a group of psychopaths and he doubted what his fate would be. Would he have the chance to escape? Or would it be better to appear docile, hoping his captors would get tired of him and let him go, or at least relax and think he had learned his lesson?
The real question was: what lesson did they think he should learn? Obviously he had made a big mistake by mistreating Valentina. He was sure he had impressed his interlocutors by giving an impression of command and confidence, but he had forgotten his girlfriend’s feelings.
He was deep in these thoughts, naked and sitting on the only chair in the room, when the security guards entered, accompanied by two men who brought a bed with a bare mattress.
“If you behave well, little by little you’ll get more things,” said one of them.
“I need to go to the bathroom, please!!!”
“We’ll take care of that.”
The two men who brought the bed and mattress left, and immediately the two guards did the same. Martín clearly heard the sound of the bolt locking the door.
Shortly afterward the door opened again. One of them entered carrying a small chemical toilet and placed it in a corner while the other stood at the door, watching to make sure he didn’t make any strange movements.
“Well, problem solved. Does the princess have any other complaints?”
“No, it’s fine. Thank you,” replied Martín, determined to follow the path of non-resistance.
He used the toilet, began walking around the room, but the marble floor was very cold and really uncomfortable. He went from lying on the bed to sitting on the chair and back to the bed. Suddenly—he never knew how much time had passed—the door opened and Valentina entered, flanked by the two security guards.
“How are you, beautiful?”
“Don’t talk to me like that,” was his response.
**Slap!!!** Another loud slap that turned his face.
“It’s better if you pay attention, sissy. The sooner you abandon this macho posture that brought you here, the better for you. You have to accept that you are not who you think you are. You have a sweet and submissive personality that seeks the guidance I am more than willing to give. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“You see, it wasn’t that difficult. Do you need anything before dinner?”
“The floor is very cold and it’s uncomfortable to walk barefoot. Could the Lady get me some footwear?”
“Of course, darling. Verónica,” she said, addressing one of the guards, “would you be so kind as to bring suitable footwear for Martina?”
“Right away, Mistress.”
Shortly afterward she returned with clearly feminine footwear: pink sandals with two-centimeter heels.
“Here you go. Put them on.”
“I’m not going to wear women’s sandals. No way.”
“Look, Martina. Verónica took the trouble to go get your footwear and now you make that scene?”
“Girls,” she said, turning to the guards, “could you help Martina put on her footwear?”
“With pleasure, Mistress.”
The two guards advanced and each took one of Martina’s legs, placing the sandals on her. To top it off, they had ankle straps that fastened.
“I had already mentioned before that there would be rewards and punishments. Since you’ve been a very poorly behaved girl, we must take measures for your own good.” While saying this, she searched for something in her bag. Finally she found it and, handing it to Verónica, said:
“Could you put it on, please?” It was a chastity device.
“With pleasure, Mistress.”
Immediately, Graciela took Martina by the arms and immobilized them behind her back while Verónica proceeded to place the device and close it with a tiny padlock.
“I sincerely hope you learn the lesson, Martina,” she said as the three of them left, leaving her alone.
She was left completely naked, wearing only a chastity device and a pair of pink sandals, in a room with a marble floor, no windows, and as the only furniture, a chair and an old bed. She lay down on it and soon began to feel cold. She couldn’t stop thinking that she had been wrong to resist Valentina. Clearly, she was no longer the same person he had known.
Once again she lost track of time. She heard noises in the hallway and the door opened, allowing the two workers to enter. This time they brought a small table about one meter on each side. They placed it next to the bed and left.
“Here’s your dinner,” said Verónica, placing a tray on the table while Graciela watched her attentively.
“Thank you very much,” he managed to say, trying to appear as submissive as possible. “Could I ask you a favor?”
“It’s not us you have to ask. It’s Mistress Valentina.”
“Please tell her I’m very cold. If possible, could something be done about it?”
“We’ll make sure to pass it on. In the meantime, the food will help warm you up.”
He looked at the dish they had brought him and, to his surprise, it was not only abundant but also very varied. It consisted of an appetizer, main course, and dessert. It even included a small coffee maker. The contrast between the quality and abundance of the food and the way they had treated him until that moment was extreme.
He was finishing dinner when the door opened again. The two guards entered as usual, followed by the workers who this time carried a wardrobe.
“The Lady has decided you can have some clothes.”
Martina checked the contents of the recently brought piece of furniture. Everything was women’s clothing: lingerie, shoes, dresses, etc.
“But all of this is women’s clothing,” she complained to her captors.
**Slap!** Another slap that turned her face.
“Do you want us to tell Mistress Valentina that?” asked Graciela.
“No please, no. I’m very sorry. I didn’t think before speaking.”
“It’s too late. You should have thought before,” said Verónica, who at that moment sat on the chair. “Come here, lie down,” she said, gesturing for her to lie across her lap.
Once she did, she began to spank her buttocks repeatedly.
“You’ve behaved badly.”
“Don’t question your Mistress.”
“You have to learn your lesson.”
“You’re nothing but a sissy.”
“You’re confused. You like wearing this clothing.” Graciela repeated each phrase in time with Verónica’s blows.
After what seemed like an eternity, both asked in unison:
“Will you behave as you should? Or do we have to report you to your Mistress?”
“No please. I’ll be a good girl and I’ll wear the clothes.”
Almost crying, she went to the wardrobe and began looking for what she could wear. Finally she chose a long-sleeved pink angora sweater and tight black lycra leggings. After putting on the garments, she turned around and asked for her captors’ approval.
“Is this appropriate, ladies?”
“You’re learning. There’s still hope for you,” replied Graciela.
“It looks very good on you,” added the other.
They then left and left her alone again, but this time it was only for a short while. Shortly afterward they returned with a decent-sized television and a vanity with a large mirror, which they placed against one of the walls.
“You see? If you behave well, you get a reward.”
She was left alone again.
She sat on the bed and took the TV remote, exploring the programming. However, the channel ***********ion was very limited—only four channels. One was about makeup tips, tricks, and tutorials. Another was about fashion: how to combine different outfits for different occasions, color-matching advice, etc.
The third channel offered advice on how to walk, sit, manners, etc., obviously aimed at sissies like her. Finally, the last channel was outright pornographic. The only theme was sissies being possessed by men and women and generally satisfying any request their Mistress or Master made.
She watched the porn channel for a while, then switched to the manners channel and finally to the makeup one. Suddenly the door opened again and her wardens entered, accompanied once more by two men who removed the bed she was using and replaced it with a larger, double bed with a much more comfortable mattress.
It was at this moment that she realized that if she behaved as her captors expected, she would receive some kind of reward. For example, after a couple of days wearing the leggings, she decided it would be good to change them. She searched the wardrobe for something similar and finally chose a pair of natural-colored pantyhose (there were no more leggings), paired with a blue skirt and blue jacket. Of course, the sandals no longer matched, so she looked for footwear that went with her new outfit.
She found a pair in blue as well, this time with four-centimeter heels—slightly higher than she was used to.
Almost immediately the wardens appeared with a complete makeup set, new clothes, and instructions on how to wash the clothes she was using (simply leave them in a plastic basket they had brought for that purpose).
When they left, with nothing to do, she began watching television, especially the “manners” channel. Almost without realizing it, she repeated the movements on the screen: sitting seductively, crossing her legs and revealing part of her thigh, walking while swaying her hips, smoothing her skirt when standing up, etc.
She felt she had a natural grace for these things. Perhaps her Mistress wasn’t so wrong and this was her true nature. She began to feel more and more comfortable moving like a woman. Martín was fading into the background and now Martina was emerging. She would have to ask Valentina for advice when she saw her again.
When she finished watching all the videos, she moved on to the makeup channel. She sat in front of the vanity mirror and began to practice. Lining and then painting her lips was relatively simple. The eyes gave her much more trouble: how to apply eyeshadow, how to line her eyelids, applying false eyelashes was a task she had to repeat countless times until her makeup was completely to her satisfaction.
Then she practiced different types of makeup: that of a teenager, an adult woman with daytime makeup, then a more suitable style for the evening in darker, more marked tones. She liked the last one and decided to keep it. The only thing she regretted was having short hair—it ruined the feminine effect she was seeking. She would have liked to have longer hair in a more appropriate style.
When it was time for dinner, her wardens returned with several boxes.
“We’ve seen that you’re finally accepting your true nature,” said Graciela.
“Please don’t punish me. I’d like to stay like this.”
“On the contrary. We’ve come to bring you some things we hope you like, and by order of Mistress Valentina, we’re also going to give you a reward for being a good girl.”
They placed the boxes they were carrying on the bed. Opening one, she saw it contained bracelets, rings, and necklaces of all kinds. Some of them were delicately placed on her hands, wrists, and neck.
What had become of the two strict wardens who had punished her until yesterday? She didn’t know. Now their manners were delicate and soft, almost as if they were treating a younger sister.
Then they applied false nails to her hands and began to paint them, each dedicated to one hand. What a change, she thought again. Now she felt as if she were in a spa.
The final touch was a series of boxes from which they took several wigs of different types: blonde, brunette, redhead, some shoulder-length, others reaching mid-back.
“I think this one will suit you better,” said Verónica, taking a black wig with a straight cut, bangs, and shoulder length.
“Perfect,” added Graciela. “Come, look at yourself.”
Martina stood up, smoothed her skirt, and with a feminine walk went to the mirror. The sound of her heels against the marble floor produced an unexpected sensation of pleasure. When she looked at herself, she could only see a middle-aged woman. No trace remained of her old self. Without realizing it, she began to practice poses, critically examining her image.
“Now sit on the chair. Your reward is coming,” said Graciela.
She sat down and the two guards stood in front of her. With a series of synchronized movements that seemed part of a choreography, they began to undress. First they removed their belts, then their ties, later unbuttoned their shirts button by button, and finally unzipped their skirts and let them fall.
Martina was more than excited by this improvised striptease. Both stood before her wearing only a black corset, their busts struggling to escape the bra, black nylon stockings held by eight garters, knee-high boots with twelve-centimeter stiletto heels. Her small penis struggled to grow inside its chastity cage, even more so when the two of them approached each other and began a slow, prolonged French kiss.
“Do you like it?” asked one of them.
“I’m fascinated. If you allow me, I’d like to participate.”
“All in due time,” replied the other. Both then moved behind her and began to caress her. She could feel their hands running over her non-existent bust, their breath approaching, the little bites they gave her ears, the kisses on her nape and neck, and finally their tongues extending and seeking hers.
She was more excited than ever in her life. She wished she could free herself from the chastity device to receive their attentions. Instead, they positioned themselves in front of her and, once again with synchronized movements, let their underwear fall.
Her surprise was enormous when, instead of finding two vaginas, both began to play with their penises.
“Come, beautiful. Here’s your reward.”
Almost hypnotized by the sight of the genitals, she approached and took each one in one hand, beginning to masturbate them.
“How nice,” said Graciela, “but don’t be shy. We want to try your mouth.”
She knelt in front of them, and still holding each penis in her hands, began to kiss them alternately, running her tongue along their entire length, and then trying to take them completely into her mouth.
On the first attempt, she only managed to gag, filling her mouth with saliva. She remembered the videos she had been watching and tried again, this time with the other penis. It was a little better, but without success.
“I’ll help you,” said Verónica, taking her head and adjusting it a little before applying pressure to her nape.
“Yes, like that. Keep trying, beautiful,” said Graciela.
“You’re doing well. Relax your throat. Try again.”
Finally, she managed to take the member completely. She felt the testicles hit her lips.
“Yes, like that. It comes naturally to you. Please continue.”
She then decided to switch penises and the operation was repeated. This time she took Verónica’s penis into her mouth while Graciela guided her.
“But there’s still something missing,” said the latter.
She went to a small unopened box and took out an anal plug. After lubricating it, she began to insert it into Martina’s anus.
“It’s not fair that only we enjoy ourselves,” she said while playing with her ass. Martina couldn’t answer—she was lost in licking and kissing the beautiful penis in front of her.
Finally, Verónica ejaculated into her mouth. For the first time she felt the taste of semen and she liked the sensation of being turned into a complete whore for the two wardens.
“Now it’s my turn,” said Graciela while masturbating. “I want to see your face with my semen on it.”
Shortly afterward, she also ejaculated on her face.
The two guards then began to dress.
“It has been a real pleasure. If you behave well, we have instructions to repeat this every day.”
“Please don’t leave. Don’t leave me like this.”
“It’s not up to us. It will be your Mistress who gives you the satisfaction you’re seeking. Of course, leave the plug in place.”
It was at that moment that she remembered she had an anal plug inserted. In the middle of the excitement she had forgotten that delicious sensation in her ass.
Both left and she was left alone once again. She changed her clothes, this time ***********ing a corset to have a more feminine figure, a pair of natural-colored nylon stockings attached with a garter belt, black shoes now with six-centimeter heels, a black dress with a pencil skirt. She kept the rings, bracelets, and wig. Finally, she redid her makeup.
She sat down, felt the pleasant pressure of the plug, and turned on the porn channel. There were many things she had to learn for when her Mistress arrived.
Third Part
Martina’s Debut
The events of the last day were repeated for at least a week, with marked variations. Now Martina anxiously awaited the visit of her captors. She dressed provocatively just for them, dreamed of kissing their genitals, and had acquired unusual skill in avoiding gagging—to the point that the wardens began inserting latex penises of increasing size and length into her mouth, which she could swallow without difficulty.
“You’re good at this. You’ve become quite an expert,” said Graciela.
“And the plug is getting bigger and bigger. Soon you’ll be ready to present yourself to your Mistress,” said Verónica.
She simply responded with a sensual gesture, sticking out her tongue and running it along the corner of her lips, then beginning to kiss one and then the other alternately, feeling their tongues brush, moving down to her crotch and taking their genitals into her mouth, waiting to taste their semen.
One morning, when the two guardians entered the room, Martina was already anxious for a new session, fully in the role of a sissy eager to serve. They interrupted her and said:
“Today we won’t have any activity, Martina. We want you to prepare with time because this afternoon we have instructions to take you to your Mistress.”
“My Mistress? What joy you give me, girls. I’m more than anxious to show her my progress.” She then added: “What clothes should I wear? Do you know what she prefers? How should I behave in front of her?”
“Relax,” said Graciela. “You’ll do very well, of that we’re sure. You have time to prepare. We’ll come get you in the afternoon.”
When she was left alone once again, she began to review the wardrobe, choosing the clothes she would wear.
She ***********ed a black dress with a pencil skirt and square neckline, of course a black corset, black nylon stockings with a seam, and twelve-centimeter stiletto heels.
She sat in front of the vanity and began to do her makeup: dark tones on the eyes, false eyelashes, red lips, earrings and rings as accessories, long nails the same color as her lips. Then she thought it would be wise to be prepared and proceeded to lubricate her ass abundantly, hoping that her owner and mistress would finally make use of her.
Of course, she couldn’t forget to insert the largest anal plug she could find. She wanted to be absolutely prepared.
When they came to get her, she was already completely ready. The problem was her nerves.
“Do I look okay? Maybe I should have chosen another dress? Will my Mistress like it?”
“I already told you, relax. If you behave as you have with us, you won’t have any problems,” said Graciela.
“Remember to show yourself humble and respectful. Your Mistress is very understanding and only wants the best for you,” added Verónica.
They walked through several hallways, always accompanied by the echo of three pairs of heels on the ever-present marble floor, until they finally reached the main hall of the house. It was approximately 15 meters on each side and completely empty. One wall was entirely occupied by an immense window overlooking a garden. At the back was a small door and three wooden armchairs that actually resembled three thrones.
They stopped just inside and Graciela indicated:
“Wait here. We’re going to announce that you’re ready.”
They left her standing alone with all her fears and anxiety while the wardens entered through the small door next to the thrones. Shortly afterward they returned, stood on each side, and announced:
“The Ladies Viviana, Silvia, and Valentina.”
The three women entered the hall in the order mentioned. All of them wore black tunics that covered their entire bodies. Only the stiletto heels of the boots they wore peeked out from underneath. They took their seats: Viviana in the center, Silvia to her right, and Valentina to her left.
It was the latter who spoke first:
“Come closer, darling. We want to see you more clearly.”
Martina, aware that she was being evaluated, approached the three women, trying with every step to show her newly discovered femininity and sensuality.
“Ladies, it is an honor to be before you,” she said, bowing her head.
“Lift your head,” said Viviana, “and let us examine you.”
Martina then gave a turn as sensual as possible, trying to please the women.
“Tell us how you feel,” asked Silvia.
“Allow me to thank you, Ladies. You have freed me. I left behind a personality that had been imposed on me by society. I was simply acting according to a false idea of myself. Now I have finally discovered the pleasure and tranquility of obeying.”
“Excellent answer. What do you desire right now? You are free to express yourself,” mentioned Valentina.
“To serve you in whatever you dispose, Mistress. I simply have one request that I hope you will consider.”
“And what is that request, darling?”
“I would be very happy if you would allow me to have surgery to feminize my face and increase my bust, just like my two friends Graciela and Verónica.”
“Wow, that’s a very interesting request that we will undoubtedly take into account. Now you must seal the pact. If you want me to be your owner, if you want me to guide you and you are willing to obey me, prove it by kissing my boots.”
Martina then knelt at her Mistress’s feet and began—not just to lick, but to make love to the boots with her mouth and tongue: kissing them over their entire length, licking the leather with her tongue until she reached her Mistress’s knee, inserting the heel into her mouth and kissing it as if it were a penis.
“Perfect. You’ve given quite a show, darling. Now let’s seal the pact.”
“As you wish, Mistress.”
“Graciela, Verónica, would you be so kind as to prepare her, please? You should also prepare yourselves, of course.”
“Yes, Mistress,” they replied in unison.
They approached Martina and proceeded to remove her dress and the chastity device, then placed a ring at the base of her penis.
“This is so you maintain a better erection and take longer to finish.”
Then they withdrew. When they returned, they too were without their uniforms and each had a ring on their genitals. They brought a spanking bench, which they placed in the center of the room.
“Come, Martina. Lie down here,” they said, then secured her ankles and hands with straps at the ends of the bench.
“She’s ready, Ladies.”
At that moment the three women stood up and let their tunics fall, revealing sculptural bodies: shoulder-length leather gloves, corsets and stockings with garter belts, knee-high boots, and—to Martina’s surprise—each of them wore a generous-sized strap-on.
They approached her. While Viviana offered hers for her to kiss, Valentina positioned herself behind her and removed the plug.
“What a detail. You’re already lubricated.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Good. Are you willing to be my little woman?”
“Yes, Mistress. I want to be yours.”
“Then ask me.”
“Please, Mistress, make me your woman. I want you to penetrate me, please.”
“How can I refuse such a request?” She then began to penetrate her, slowly inserting her artificial penis while Viviana penetrated her mouth.
Meanwhile, Silvia was penetrating Graciela while Verónica licked her companion’s genitals. Viviana, seeing this scene, withdrew from Martina’s mouth and, after positioning herself behind her, began to penetrate Verónica.
Martina then said to Valentina:
“Free me please, Mistress. I want to see your face while you make me your woman.”
“Good idea. That way I can also see what a little whore you are.” She then proceeded to free her now wife, helped her position herself on the bench with her back against it, and, placing her legs on her shoulders, penetrated her again.
At that moment, Martina reached out with the intention of masturbating. Her Mistress stopped her and said:
“Not yet, beautiful. There’s still your surprise.” She then took her by the hands and continued riding her. “This is another test you must overcome: the ability to control yourself.”
This continued for some time. When Martina thought she could no longer bear it, Valentina—still inside her—said:
“Now you have a decision ahead of you. How do you want your orgasm? The first option is that you choose Graciela or Verónica, and we’ll allow you to be active with whoever you want. The second is that you run your tongue over my body, starting with my boots, and then kiss my genitals while Viviana penetrates you. What do you decide?”
“Mistress, it would be the greatest honor if you would allow me to kiss your genitals,” was our protagonist’s response.
“So be it then.” Valentina slowly withdrew from her maid, sat on her corresponding throne, and, opening her legs, called her.
Martina then crawled forward until she reached her Mistress’s feet and, as she had done before, began to make love to the boots with her mouth: licking the leather and ascending to her knees, inserting the stiletto heel into her mouth and kissing it as if it were a miniature penis. Then she alternately ascended her legs, feeling the nylon brush against her tongue, moistening her Mistress’s legs with her saliva until she reached her crotch.
Valentina, who had already removed the strap-on, felt the sissy’s tongue enter her genitals, stop at the clitoris, play with it, suck it, desperately drink her juices. The moans of her Mistress excited her even more. Her desperation increased when she took her head and pressed it firmly against her genitals. She lacked air but cared little. The sensation of pleasure that giving pleasure to her Mistress gave her made the rest of the world lose consistency.
So much so that she didn’t notice when Viviana positioned herself behind her with a much larger strap-on than the previous one and began to penetrate her slowly until she was completely inside, then beginning a very slow back-and-forth movement, almost as if savoring the penetration.
Martina was by now maddened with pleasure. The mixture of pride she felt for the pleasure she was giving her Mistress, added to the pleasure she herself felt from being penetrated, made her ejaculate shortly afterward, spilling her semen onto her owner’s boots in her first anal orgasm.
“Good girl. I’ve had at least three orgasms. I think your tongue will be my favorite part of your body from now on.”
“Thank you, Mistress. It’s a pleasure to satisfy you.”
“Now be a good girl and clean my boots—with your tongue, please.”
Without hesitation, she lowered her head and began to clean her Mistress’s boots, drinking all her semen.
**Fourth Part**
**Epilogue**
A year has passed since these events and few people would recognize Martina today. She has undergone various surgeries—at least three breast augmentations. She now has the largest prostheses on the market. At the same time, they lifted her buttocks and placed prostheses in her hips, removed two ribs to make her waist smaller (further reduced by wearing a corset daily).
On her face, they operated on her eyes to give them an oriental touch, lifted her cheeks, added collagen to her lips to make them thicker, and finally thinned her jaw to give her face a more feminine touch. She also wanted her nose, which she considered large, but her Mistress opposed, saying it gave her personality.
To pay for all these operations, which had been financed by Viviana, she now worked in security alongside Graciela and Verónica.
At that moment the three of them were together during their break. She was drinking a coffee flavored with Graciela’s semen while sitting on Verónica’s lap. The trick was that the latter had lifted her skirt, freed her penis, and inserted it into Martina’s anus.
Meanwhile, Graciela stood beside them, receiving Verónica’s attentions as she masturbated her.
How she loved these breaks. You never knew how they would end. The three of them were very creative in that sense.
Suddenly the intercom sounded and Viviana’s voice announced:
“Girls, could you come to my office please?” It was not a question—it was an order.
Quickly they composed their uniforms, smoothed their pencil skirts, adjusted their small ties over their blue shirts. Martina finished her coffee in one gulp (there was no point in wasting it—it was delicious) and they set off for the office, the echo of their heels resonating through the building’s hallways.
When they arrived, they noticed that Viviana was seated having coffee with Silvia and Valentina. For a moment Martina hoped it was a small meeting, something that happened quite frequently, and she was already thinking about doing a sensual striptease that her Mistress liked so much—when she saw a fourth woman at the other end of the room.
“Girls, I need to ask you a favor.”
“Of course, Mrs. Viviana. Whatever you wish.”
“Here is this man’s folder. Would you be so kind as to find him and invite him to the Association’s house?”
“He needs to be educated,” announced the fourth woman.
“It will be a pleasure, Mistress. He’ll be at the house this afternoon.” The three withdrew to fulfill their mission.
With a bit of luck, she would get ahead of Graciela and this time she would be the one to use the stun gun.
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