Her hand rubbed the back of my head gently, and I kept crying.I was fifteen, kissing a girl, behind the school. My first kiss. I remember the girl, to.... Her name was Helene. She was beautiful. I loved her. I could feel her soft, inexperienced lips, and her soft breasts. We broke off, and she smiled.We walked towards home, I to my grandmother's house, her to her parents apartment a block further down. At my door, we kissed gently again.I went up the steps and opened the huge front double door. I. I look somewhere in between genders: not quite boyish, nor truly feminine. My voice softened rather than deepened. It lost the c***dhood squawk, and smoothed into something far removed from a masculine sound. I typically only talk in a whisper if at all. My best friend has been my only true friend through these awkward changes and he is the only person I actually enjoy talking to. He says that my voice adds to my allure when I play dress up in his sisters clothes.It is my turn to make a dare. He was then untied and got to clean her up with his tongue before they drifted off to sleep. The morning saw a slow gentle lovemaking, and then they spent the afternoon together knowing that later that evening, after their tea he would be getting her ready then sending her off for a last evening with her master, to be used and abused in any way the man saw fit.He helped her shower, and then dried her with those big fluffy towels fondling her backside in the knowledge that at best it would be. Boyd begins to push down on my hips. The increased stretching of my already-straining arms is pain beyond belief, and my mouth opens in a wail of agony. Oh, God, Boyd, Boyd, stop! Stop!? ?The numbers!? Boyd pushed down hard. I actually hear my shoulders crack loudly and fire seems to explode along my arms, all down my back, easily the most savage pain I have ever felt in my life. I let out ascream, the tears spilling down my face. But I don?t tell him what he wants to know, and after a few.