His sisters had gone off to school and his mother had just left for work. With any luck, his sexy Aunt Joy would still be sipping coffee in her super-...hort and sexy terrycloth robe. With better luck, she'd be naked under that robe.John eased down the stairs and saw her as he rounded the corner. He was in luck. He smiled weakly as she looked up, then took feeble steps toward the chair that might give him a good beaver shot. Like a death camp survivor needing to sit, he pulled the chair out to. Then she pushes my head against her crotch, and strokes myhair. She's making sure I get a real good whiff of her pheromones. I'msure she has been aroused by whipping me. Sissies are all conditionedto equate a womyn's pheromones with climaxing. Agent D is imprintingher scent on me, on my little sissy brain. I breathe deeply through mynostrils. My whole body shudders. When mother first started tosupervise my masturbations, (before she started dating MistressValerie), I wore Mistress. I flunked out of Boston’s very own Northeastern University and transferred to Ottawa’s flagship school, Carleton University. It sucks big-time but it’s also the place where I met the young lady who changed my life forever. I’m referring of course to Marian McArthur, the young Black woman of Nigerian and English descent whom I ran into at Carleton University’s library. I’ve always had a thing for exotic-looking women, and Marian was definitely something else. Her father James McArthur is half. I feel trapped inside my own body, almost feel like I don’t have a body. It’s…horrible. And there’s no guarantee I’ll get better at all.” She sucked in a deep breath. “And what he’s offering is something I would have accepted even if I wasn’t in this condition.”I frowned at that, having no reason to think she was lying, but honestly not understanding why she was so attached to me. Serenity and I exchanged a glance, before she gave me a slight nod.I sighed. “So you’re mine now, that.