"It's only 8 o'clock, Steffi works 'til 11, and she won't be back before midnight. What's the rush?"

"You'll find out soon enough," she replied, practically pulling me into the foyer. "You seem to forget that I have my own plans for this evening...the Christmas party to end all Christmas parties? I need enough time to make myself beautiful!" "I don't see where that would require much time at all.” I ventured, flashing a slightly flirtatious grin.

"Watch that flattery, you silver-tongued devil, it may get you more than you bargained for! Look, just leave your stuff here, go up and jump into the shower-if we're going to pull this off, we've got a lot of work to do. Now...go!" I went upstairs to do as she asked, wondering what I was getting myself into. It had certainly seemed like a good idea when I was cooking up this scheme, but now that it was actually under-way I was having second thoughts. My objective was to give my love a gift she'd never forget, something that requiring a great amount of creativity and personal sacrifice. I love her dearly and would do almost anything for her, but I just wasn't sure if I wanted to go through with this. We often play BDSM games, but I'm always the Dom and, though we have occasionally discussed changing roles, she's not altogether certain she would enjoy it. She claims she might be able to dominate a woman, but never a man. Over the next twelve days, I want to let her prove to herself otherwise. Ten minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel-and my doubts. Was I right in taking Jen into my confidence? Her assistance would be essential to realizing my plans; there'd only be one way to find out.

The living room was fully decorated for the holidays: the stockings hung by the fire with care sort of thing, and the tree stood in one corner, covered with lights and ornaments. Already, a large pile of presents were piled underneath and Jen had stacked my latest additions neatly off to one side. She was in the middle of the room, inspecting all of my purchases while laying everything out with military precision. One of the reasons I chose her to help me (apart from her proximity) was her quick, efficient, businesslike approach to any project.

She turned and smiled at me, obviously approving my choices. I now knew I had chosen wisely, both in costume and in confidante. I removed my towel, but to preserve some small level of propriety, I had taken the precaution of wearing my white leather cock-and-ball sheath over a condom.

"Let's get started, shall we?” She handed me the stockings.

Setting my towel onto the sofa, I sat down and began to roll the gossamer, snow-white confections up my freshly shorn legs. Earlier today, I had prepared myself for this evening's festivities, and I was now clean-shaven in more areas than I'd been since puberty. Standing up, I stretched them up to their limit, letting their elasticized lace tops hug my thighs. My cock also stretched to its limit, a fact that Jen registered with a knowing smile. "Hold out your hands.” She said. Smooth satin gloves slithered silently up my arms coming to a stop almost at my shoulders. I picked up the boots and began the long, slow process of lacing them tightly up to mid-thigh. Pure white like the rest of my costume, they boasted six-inch stiletto heels, and I was glad they were rigidly boned, to support ankles unused to such heights. I tottered to my feet, ready for the next stage of my transformation. "Hands in the air," Jen instructed. The corset of boned white satin had fully filled bra cups, to give me that Jane Russel, 'full-figured' profile. Shoulder straps held the 'breasts' firmly, if not very convincingly, to my hairless chest. Jen dug her knee into my back as she cinched the stiff material around my ever-narrowing waist. "Suck it in, sister!" she grunted, "and.. hold... still! ...There!” Taking advantage of every exhaled breath, she tightened up the laces; and when she was finished tying it off, I had a wasp waist of which any Victorian matron would be proud. A moment later the garters were straining to hold up my stockings. I flinched when she suddenly snapped one of them on my thigh. She just smiled at me, wickedly. I should have become suspicious just then, but the moment passed without comment. We were both getting a bit flushed from the exertion and I noticed, to my shame, that I was beginning to find the cock sheath more than a bit confining. Will wonders never cease?

"Now the fun begins," she cooed, twirling her finger in the air, signaling me to turn around. "Hands behind your back, please, palms together!"

"Sounds like you've done this before.” I smiled assuming the position, trying to make light of the situation. She began locking leather cuffs over my wrists and locking them together, before sliding the armbinder into place and securing the straps around my chest.

"I've...always...believed, that...bondage...should be...layered-don't you agree?" she continued, lacing the restraint tightly up the back, bringing my elbows within inches of touching and thrusting my chest lewdly forward. She tied it securely at the top, but continued to go back over all the laces and straps adjusting each until she was satisfied. "I mean, what good is an armbinder, if my victim isn't already bound; what if I want to remove it later? Whenever I take someone's clothes off, I always expect to find suitable underwear underneath. Why should bondage be any different?” I couldn't fault her logic, but I found myself in no condition to disagree too strenuously to any well-reasoned argument just at that moment.

Suddenly, with no warning, she stepped squarely down onto my toe. My mouth flew open with surprise, only to be stuffed with my leather ball gag. Where she had been hiding it all this while I don't know, but my cheeks began to swell as she pumped it up using the small bladder at the end of the short hose protruding from the ball. I thought my eyes were going to pop out from the pressure, but she finally stopped pumping and detached the hose from the ball. I shook my head from side to side, trying everything I could to spit it out, but it was lodged fast. Jen grabbed my chin and amused herself by painting my lips a Come-Fuck-Me shade of red: guaranteed, she claimed, not to smudge-even in case of a national emergency. I believed her. She clipped a pair of drippy earrings onto my earlobes, making me feel extremely pretty. Now, I realize I look ridiculous as a cross-dresser; I'm aware that I could never pass myself off as a woman, no matter how hard I might try-but that's not the point. It's how it makes me feel that matters. The only real sex organ any of us has is the one we all carry between our ears, everything else is mere receptor!

As if reading my mind, Jen led me over to stand before the full-length mirror. "Take a nice, long look at yourself, DEARIE," she advised. "This is the last you'll be able to see of yourself, or much of anything, for quite some time!" Magically, she produced the blindfold, seemingly conjuring it out of thin air. A delicate little construction of padded white silk satin, lovingly trimmed with white lace. It could be considered a piece of lingerie in its own right. Soft padding at the bridge of the nose prevented unwanted light from seeping in, while a demure little elastic strap held it firmly in place. Jen stood behind me, reaching around to draw the blindfold tantalizingly up my torso with both hands. My eyes followed its slow progress, until it finally arrived to envelop them in soft night. Earplugs soon followed; the foam kind, the kind that expands to fill every crevice of the ear canal and I was rendered completely deaf, dumb and blind. Standing in the dark silence, awaiting her next move, the suspense was starting to get to me. My doubts began to resurface just a bit too late to be of any help to me. Jen was exhibiting a level of enthusiasm for, and proficiency in, strict bondage that was beginning to alarm me. I shuddered every so often as minutes passed and nothing happened. I didn't have too long to wait, though: to my surprise, a long, well-manicured fingernail dug an earplug out, and a smooth, soft voice purred musically into my only ear: "You know, just about now, I bet you're regretting putting on that cock sheath!” She tapped a finger on my swollen member. "Maybe I ought to be merciful and take you to the bathroom one last time-think so?” I nodded, wondering if this was a trick, or if she really meant it. Just in case, I started nodding frantically, the power of suggestion alone was enough to cause rumblings in my bladder. She let me stew for a moment, then led me out to the bathroom. "Hmm...let's see," Jen mused in a singsong voice, "First, I untie this...” It was starting to become unbearable. "Then I loosen that...” Would she ever get the damned thing off in time? "Then I gently roll the condom off...” I thought I could hold it no longer. "Hold it in: don't dare spill a drop," she warned archly, swatting me across the thigh; what an accomplished Sadist she was! She was holding my cock, presumably aiming me into the toilet, when she finally gave me permission to let loose. It was so hard I couldn't let go, so she gently squeezed my tip at the sides until it calmed down enough to perform its more mundane function. I didn't know I had it in me, I pissed like a racehorse for at least a minute and a half straight. "Well, we might as well check the other end, while we're at it," doing her best Nurse Ratchett imitation, she spun me around and sat me down, hooking my useless arms over the back of the seat and forcing me to lean over. She pushed my cock down between my legs, instructing me to hold it there with my thighs. Now, I have never had anyone watch me take a crap, at least, not since toilet training, and I was amazed by how much the humiliation was turning me on. The fact that she had total control of my body, that she could watch me sit on the toilet, while I wasn't even able to see her, threatened to send my cock shooting up to the ceiling. She went away, leaving me alone for about an eternity of a minute, and then returned.

"Let out your breath slowly, all the way out, and hold it until I tell you. Then, inhale sharply. Got it?” I nodded, and complied. She must have been waiting for me to turn blue because I was starting to see swirls of color cover my field of non-vision. "Now!” As I desperately sucked air through my nose and into my lungs, I felt a powder coat my nostrils, leaving a faint, chemical taste. It wasn't cocaine, and I didn't think it was heroin-besides, I knew Jen wasn't into drugs. Before another thought could cross my sensory-deprived mind, my bowels began to shake, rattle and roll, whereupon I gave birth to the longest, fattest lawn sausage of my life.

"In case you're wondering, sweetie, it's nothing dangerous, just an incredible laxative. I think it was originally designed for dog owners to regulate their pets, but it's harmless to humans. Anyway, don't be too insulted: you weren't getting anywhere, and before long, you'll be sporting both collar and leash!” I had to admit she was right, and it certainly was effective. Besides, my plans for the next few hours had no room for an urgent trip to the toilet. She made it up to me, sort of, almost immediately. I heard the snap of a rubber glove being pulled over her hand. Jen stood me up, bent me far over, and began cleaning my ass with baby wipes-another sensation not experienced since infancy. When she was satisfied as to my cleanliness, she substituted K-Y jelly: cold at first, but rapidly warming as my breathing became ragged and my cock stiffened. Even though I knew what was coming next, I still could enjoy, at least for the moment, the wondrous sensation of being fingered by a beautiful woman. This was where the rubber would hit the road, so to speak, or more accurately, where the rubber would be shoved up my rump! I don't know what demon possessed me the moment I picked out the most expensive, the most extreme, the most monstrous butt plug in the shop, but I had only myself to blame for what I was about to receive. The damned thing looked, appropriately enough, like a miniature Christmas tree: narrow at the tip, but widening dramatically as it terraced down three levels to its nasty little base, from which dangled an innocent-looking, stainless steel D-ring. I felt her probe my back door with the tip. I struggled a bit as she began to press the plug in farther. She rewarded me with a sharp slap across my buns. She spread my legs farther apart, and then forced me to bend over even more. Each level distended my hips ever wider, bringing new meaning to the word 'suffering'. I didn't believe I could withstand such pain, but I did, screaming, although the sound came out only as a sort of thin mewling. I didn't believe she could get the whole thing in without splitting me in two, but somehow she managed. Towards the end, she sat me back onto the seat and let gravity help force the intruder in... all the way up to the hilt. My sphincter, after having been stretched to the widest point imaginable, clamped down over the relatively narrower portion of the plug at the base holding the whole thing, voluntarily, deep inside. This plug would be just as painful coming out as it had been, going in, and it exerted a great deal of pressure against my prostate; once again, I needed to pee, something fierce. Anticipating my plight, she graciously (yeah, right!) pulled me upright, twirled me around again, and aimed me back into the toilet. After washing my cock off, she led me back out into the living room where she spun me round and round, like in a game of Blindman's Bluff so I would have no idea which way I was facing. Between the plug up my ass, the incredible heels, and the dizziness, I was having a hell of a time standing up, though my cock wasn't!

"What a shame, to waste such a rare opportunity!" she murmured into my ear. Helplessly, I stood there, wondering just what she meant. The answer came, soon enough. My whole body sprang to attention the moment I first felt Jen kiss the tip of my cock. Slowly, she began kissing it at one-inch intervals, first along one side, then the other, continuing along the top, then the bottom. I thrust my hips forward, but she pulled back until I stopped moving. She wrapped her lips around my balls, sucking them like little bird eggs. Hungrily, she took my cock fully into her mouth, drawing me deeper and deeper inward, until her lips brushed the little heart-shaped patch of fur I'd left at its base. I couldn't believe my luck: she swallowed every last bit of cum I shot into her, licking me totally clean. What a finale! She disappeared, leaving me shivering with confusion and delight.

All of a sudden she returned and clenched her hand around my scrotum, digging her nails into that narrow bridge of flesh so dear to me. "I would never do anything to hurt Steffi, understood?” Her nails dug a little deeper and pulled my balls straight down, causing me to break out in a cold sweat. "If you ever tell her about this, I'll cut these off and stuff them down your throat, understand?” The way she uttered this, so sweetly and so matter-of-factly, I could not help myself: I fell in love! I began thinking of how I could some day, turn the tables on this remarkable lady and have her completely in my power. Of course, I was unable to discuss the idea intelligently with her just then, so I let the idea pass. I nodded with enthusiastic understanding, and my balls were released, safe-for now. She replaced the errant earplug, and then rolled the condom back onto my cock, squeezing my tip until I could be re-inserted into the sheath. This particular cock-and-ball sheath is an original invention of mine, and one of which I am quite proud. The design is mine, though I had it made by a leather crafter I know. Its very simplicity makes it such a wonderful toy. Made of soft, supple white leather, it laces up the shaft, starting from the tip, and ties at the base. My balls are encased in a small, white leather bag, sewn onto the sheath. A drawstring closes the bag, and the string is tied in a bow over the sheath, holding everything firmly in place. A D-ring at the tip allows for all sorts of possibilities, most of which, I have already considered, but I just keep thinking up new ones-and I'm open to suggestions.

The next step called for the chastity belt, another invention of mine manufactured by the same twisted genius who transformed my sheath from diabolical dream into my present reality. First, a four-inch wide belt is clasped and locked tightly around my waist. Attached to the back of the belt is a long strap, which starts out four inches wide, narrowing to three inches as it passes over my butt plug, holding it firmly in place (as if it were going anywhere!) The steel ring, protruding from the base of the butt plug, is then pulled through a slot in the leather. At its narrowest point, between my legs, the strap's down to two inches, but it widens again to three, as it travels over my leather-coated balls. My sheathed cock is pulled through a hole in the strap, which continues to widen back to four inches as it continues up the front. Jen would then tuck the strap under the belt, turning her attention to my cock. A very short length of light chain is hooked to the D-ring at the tip and pulled back between my legs, only to be attached to the ring from the butt plug. The front end of the strap is now brought down over the front of the belt, narrowing again, as it goes (once again) between my legs and is locked to the back of the belt. My cock is on fire, my balls scream bloody murder, and I'm in absolute ecstasy! I'm impaled on the horns of a dilemma, however: the harder I get, the more pain I feel, but, the more pain I feel, the harder I get! I just can't win-which is what strict bondage is all about.

We were almost finished. The pile of goodies has diminished, leaving only a few more toys left to play with: next up, the bondage hood. Jen opened it wide and stretched it carefully over my face and the front of my neck, down almost to my chest. The hood has no eyeholes-of what use would they be? It does have, in addition to the required nasal opening, a large, rectangular opening over the mouth. Steff should have little trouble coming up with uses for that particular opening! Stretching the pliant leather around my head, Jen created a second skin over my skull, pressing the earrings into my neck, a very sexy sensation! At the very top of the hood, there is a hole to allow for a ponytail. Since my hair is too short for a natural one, Jen was kind enough to supply a fall, a long wig of natural hair to poke out of the hood and dangle down my back. (However, she neglected to tell me what color it is, so I have no idea whether I'm a blonde, brunette, or redhead-my imagination runs wild!) The laces begin right under the ponytail, trailing all the way down, nearly to my shoulder blades. As the laces are tightened, the hood constricts tighter and tighter, pressing deliciously inward on all sides. Thick padding over my ears further stopped sound from reaching my ears, while the pressure over my blindfold somehow made the darkness even more oppressive. Lastly, Jen buckled a thickly padded rectangular piece of leather over the oral opening, jamming my ball gag farther into my mouth. I shook my head, feeling the swish of the ponytail against my shoulders; I was in Cross-Dress Heaven! The aroma of leather was as intoxicating as the most potent of spirits; and I was now almost as helpless as I could possibly wish to be.

At last, the moment we've all been waiting for, that quintessential symbol of subservience: the collar! Tall, stiff and unyielding, the collar is designed to hold my head in one position and prevent any movement. Jen wrapped it around my neck and locked it securely, concealing the laces of the hood, preventing its removal. She coupled the leash to the large D-ring at the front, clipping the single key, which would unlock all my bondage, onto the same ring. Lastly, she chained the D-ring at the end of the armbinder, through the butt-plug ring, stretching it up to hook onto the front ring on the collar. Thus I stood severely bound, in almost exactly the same bondage outfit Steff regularly wore in our games, except that her costume was entirely in red. Head held proudly high, I awaited the finishing touches to my fantasy. She spread my legs slightly. Taking the last items from the pile, she stood behind me and ran the six-inch wide, red satin ribbon between my legs, up over my right shoulder, and crossed it midway up my back. Wrapping it around my waist, she pinioned the armbinder to my body and tied the ribbon into a pretty bow over my belly. Jen grabbed the leash and led me to the tree. There I waited, as she assembled the large cardboard carton, which would be my home for the next few hours. She walked me over until I was standing inside the box, which was lined with white tissue. Reaching down to my legs, she secured locking leather cuffs to my ankles. She then helped me lie down on my left side with my legs into a hogtie position, placing a pillow under my head. Locking my ankles together, she ran a ribbon from my ponytail to my ankles, pulling my head back. Patting me lightly on the butt, she folded the tissue over me and closed the lid. All of the presents I had brought that evening were in white cardboard cartons of various sizes, each secured with a red ribbon. Their only markings were a numeral and a small, discreet insignia: the international BDSM tripartite 'yin-yang-whatever' symbol. Numbered from one to twelve, symbolizing not only the twelve days of Christmas, but the twelve days I planned to be Steffi's slave, my current address was number twelve. I felt small vibrations as Jen arranged the presents around and atop my little cardboard prison. Box number one contained a leather cat suit and a Christmas card instructing her to put it on, then to open each box in order. The others were each filled with traditional holiday gifts: a flogger, a riding crop, a leather blindfold, and a double penis-gag, to name a few. Number ten contained strap-on dildo, a personal favorite, while number eleven held a tool belt to keep all her toys handy. Everything was in white, to match my costume. Jen went off to get ready for her party, but she'd agreed to stay until Steffi arrived home, so as not to leave me helpless, alone in the house. My plans all hinged on her being able to convince Steffi to start unwrapping presents without me. Our story was that I had been unavoidably tied up (!) with a last-minute deadline, and would not be able to join her for another two hours. She was to work her way through all the boxes opening one gift after another, all the while convinced that I would be coming soon to use these things on her. My hope was that she would be working herself up into a fevered sexual frenzy, by the time she would find me, her willing slave, completely at her mercy. Who knew if it would all work, but if I didn't try, I'd never find out. I squirmed a bit, trying to settle in, and waited for the woman I love to come home and captivate me completely. "Merry Christmas, Darling!"