For a Girl, J.T. D'Arelli [reading fiction txt] 📗

alone should have cooled my ardor. But it didn't. Instead, I grew wetter and hotter. So much hotter! My breathing became ragged again as my body was receiving its first true sexual stimulation. Oh... oh yes... more...

Tears were rolling down my face by now. I couldn't say when the spanking had stopped. He was now gently rubbing my panty-clad butt, the soft nylon transmitting sparks of delight. My nipples felt like two candles burning on my chest. I ached to have them touched.

Still stroking me while I lay across his lap, he spoke. "You are the first GB female I've ever met. But I must say, Stephanie, you do your new sex proud. I wonder if you were always meant to be a girl — you've taken to it quite well. GB may function as a corrective measure — turning boys unsuited for masculinity into the girls they should have been. Perhaps it's for the best — now you are the girl on the outside you seemed to have been on the inside. Certainly you have an affinity for the properly submissive role of a woman."

I was barely listening to him. All I wanted was for him to keep touching me. I turned over on his lap. I could feel his enormous erection pressing against the seat of my pretty underpants. My eyes wet with tears, I met his gaze. I could see the desire on his face — along with... satisfaction. For him, it was not only sexual. He wanted to show how dominant he was.

He had succeeded.

Both of us shifted our glance to my body. My blouse had hiked up considerably. The only covering I had below my belly button were my sheer panties, edged in white lace — and they were sopping wet. The dark triangle of my bush was clearly visible to us both. And between my legs, we both could see the outline of my vagina, the lips of my vulva creating just a hint of a bulge in my frilly hipster-style underwear. That semblance of a bulge seemed to mock what I once had as a boy — and what he had as a man. I was embarrassed at having my girlhood so explicitly placed on display for his gratification. The physical proof of my fragility. I felt wet and vulnerable and open.

My hips continued to make the tiniest bucking movements — still seeking... penetration. My feminine sex — sculpted in the sheerest of silk. God, what a sight! Breathing deeply, I realized to my shame and delight I was only a few moments away from yet another orgasm.

He must have known it too. He continued. "After all, Stephanie, what is a woman but a creature of her feelings? Her sexuality, her emotions drive who and what she is. Consider your current position. You'd do anything to achieve... satisfaction right now, would you not?"

"Ye... yes. Oh, yes," I gasped huskily. I was beyond reason at this point.

"So you can see, Stephanie, what you are. Females such as yourself are ruled by their bodies. You are now subject to womanly passions that demonstrate how inappropriate manhood would have been for you. It really is for the best, young lady. Don't you agree?"

"Ye... yes"

"So you admit you were not worthy of boyhood. You were meant to be a girl."

"Yes," I was gasping, my orgasm drawing closer.

"Say it."

"I... I was meant to be a girl."

"You never should have been a boy." His hand hovered tantalizingly close to my utterly feminine crotch, promising the relief I so desperately needed.

"No... I never should have been a boy."

"And you submit to your fate as a female."

"Yes... I ohhh!" I cried out as my thighs tingled in anticipation.

"Finish it, Stephanie."

"Yes... I... I accept my fate... I'm a... mmmmm... I'm a girl." Almost there! Oh please...

"And you've done a fine job of demonstrating that. After all, only someone who was a true girly-girl would wear panties so pretty. Let's have a touch, shall we?"

With that, he took my hand, moved it to my hips, and dragged my forefinger against the wet crotch of my women's underpants — just a single stroke. The barest caress of my vagina. He was very careful not to touch me himself.

That was all it took. Yet another orgasm — more intense yet. He actually had to muffle my mouth with his hand as I writhed on his lap, moaning and gasping, my vagina contracting over and over as I came with a power I couldn't have imagined as a boy. Ohhh yess...

Finally it was over, the last quiverings of my new sex faded. I slowly rejoined reality, completely drained. In more ways than one, for my underwear was drenched with yet another round of... girl juice. I stood unsteadily and made my way to the front of his desk. I felt an amazing mixture of shame and... satisfaction. What I had just done filled me with embarrassment — but mitigated by the sheer pleasure of the sexual delight.

To give you an image of what I looked like at that moment, standing in a daze before him, think back to the movie 'Ace Ventura — Pet Detective'. At the climax, Ace battles Lieutenant Einhorn, nearly knocking her out. Stunned and disoriented, she staggers about — while Ace strips her down to her underwear, to prove she's really a man. Now imagine a 17-year-old girl in Sean Young's place, and you get the picture.

By the way, I'm appreciating transgendered people a lot more these days.

Mr. Grogan looked it me with a mixture of ardor and power. He spoke. "Well, Miss Lind, I believe discipline has been restored. You do appreciate the importance of following proper procedure when leaving class?"

"Yes, sir."

"So, do you promise to be a good little girl?"

"Yes, sir."

"Say it," he said forcefully.

"I'll be a good little girl, sir." I felt still more shame at acknowledging my female condition.

"Then I trust there will be no repetition of this incident."

God, I hope not! "No, sir."

"And I believe you also have a better understanding of a woman's place in comparison to a man's. Since you are now a girl and will someday become a woman yourself, it is best for you to know your new status."

He didn't have to spell out what he thought my new 'status' was — I'd just proved it to both of us. I reluctantly nodded — not so much in agreement, but just to get this over with.

"Very well, Stephanie. You're excused."

He handed me a hall pass for the nurse. I barely had presence of mind to put on my skirt before I left his office. I walked slowly to the infirmary, trying to make some sense of what had happened. I was very confident I was the first girl Mr. Grogan had tried such a stunt with. A public high school is not the Catholic Church — administrators are too terrified of lawsuits to tolerate serial molesters.

So Mr. Grogan had singled me out because of my unique status as a GB female. I'd read enough Penthouse letters to have an idea of what he was about. I knew S/M existed, and that it was based on the dominant/submissive relationship. He apparently got off on being a dominant. And it was pretty obvious I'd just played the submissive role — all too easily. Somehow, the fact that I used to be a boy made my surrender to him still more intense — for both of us.

S/M games (from what I'd read) place great stock on humiliation and control. Mr. Grogan's interest in me was undoubtedly piqued by my new and very feminine condition. He perceived my change as humiliating in and of itself — which made toying with me all the more satisfying to him. After all, a boy whose been turned into a girl against his will has already been degraded — at least in the eyes of some. That makes the dominant's control all the more delicious — the submissive has lost power over his very gender — betrayed by his... her own body into an inferior state. Stripped of his masculinity — forced to be a helpless girl. The power of the penis transformed into the vulnerability of the vagina — a female ready to be mastered by a man.

Worse yet was the undeniable realization that I'd actually... enjoyed it myself. Was this the true core of femininity? I couldn't credit it — for it didn't connect what I knew of the women and girls in my life. Mom, Sue, Becky — these people were completely womanly, and yet they were no wallflowers. Each of them was strong and would not accept being treated in a condescending way.

Yet I had. Yes, Mr. Grogan had blackmailed me with the detention threat. But I knew if I'd pushed back, I could have escaped. Coach Bradford would have persuaded the principal to reinstate me. I didn't have to do what I did. To be sure, I was still off-balance by my body's... sexual spasms. And Mr. Grogan had certainly taken advantage of that.

But I'd read that submissives have power, too. They can set limits to the extent of their surrender. If they choose not to, well... it's their call. I also knew from my readings that S/M roles are not gender specific. Men can (and often do) take on the compliant character and women play aggressors. So being a girl, in and of itself, did not mean I had to be sexually humiliated as a matter of course.

Which meant, deep inside me, there was some core that liked to surrender control. Maybe it had always been there — but becoming female had 'outed' me. What was more bizarre was how that contrasted with my attitude on the track. When pitted against opponents in a race — I wanted to RULE them, to demonstrate my power over them. My newfound femininity had not altered that one whit.

So to have this other part of me desire the opposite — to let myself be at the mercy of another — was truly a shock to discover. It made no sense, unless my personality was seeking some kind of balance between extremes.

People are weird, you know?

I convinced the nurse I needed attention from the town clinic — without having to give him any gory details. So a short time later, I found myself outside Dr. Wilson's office. I stared at the OB-GYN plate on her door — reflecting on how my life had changed. I now had to visit the 'gynie'.

Dr. Wilson opened the door and invited me in. This was the first time we'd met since GB and she studied me closely.

"I understand you're Stephanie, now."

I nodded yes.

"Well, Stephanie, I see you've completed the physical transition. How are you feeling?"

"I was hanging in there for a while, Doctor, but something strange has been going on for the last day or so."

"What's seems to be the problem?" she asked in the classic physician's manner.

I took a deep breath. This was going to be embarrassing. On the other hand, I was getting used to embarrassment. "Doctor, I keep having these tremendous, overwhelming... orgasms."

She looked at me nonplussed. "Most girls wouldn't see that as a problem."

"But I'm not... stimulating myself. They just happen! I was sitting in class, then all of the sudden my body went out of control. I barely got out of sight. While it's hitting me, I can't even keep my legs together. I know I've got some adjusting to do as a girl, but this can't possibly be normal."

"How many times has this taken place?"

I counted back. "Three in the last day. They're getting more intense, too. It's almost like an attack — except for how good it feels."

"And there's no intimate contact beforehand?"

"No." I wasn't going to explain my 'encounter' with Principal Grogan.

"You're right, Stephanie. It's not normal. But it's also not unprecedented. I think I'd better have a look at things."

And so I endured my second gynecological exam. Once again, I assumed the position —