Mistress  Ishtar

                                                              by  Zaku  Eins



1.     And So My Troubles Began



It had been about three months since I was brought here.

This was a guess, of course.  I KNEW, for certian, that I was here for
six weeks.  The limestone walls took the improvised scraping tool I
made just well enought to scribe lines in the wall.  The lines were
showing 42 days, and the sun was setting on another day.  43 days here.

The rest was guess work.  I found needle tracks all over my body,
evidence that someone had professionally inserted IVs into me.  One of
my girlfriends was diabetic, and she told me everything about insulin
injections, and my memory dredged up that memory of how long a certain
location could take needles before switching.  My arms and legs were
covered with tracks, but not my thighs or armpits.  I was here for a
month and a half, a month and a half that I was aware of only in pain
and the odd floating feeling of tranquilizers.

For six weeks, I had gotten used to three facts.

The first one was that, to the outside world, I was dead.  They told
me, though my door, that my previous life was dead--I had no real
family, and my life was gone when they faked a head-on car crash that
caused both cars to burst into flames.  They had swapped my dental
records with the dead man's body, so I was pronounced dead.

The second was that I was here because Ishtar-no, I should say it
right, if only for posterity- Her Goddess' Mistress, The Lady Ishtar;
had read an article I had written in the college newspaper.  She liked
it so much, they said, that they had "recruited" me.

And the third part was the 36DD breasts hanging from the front of my
chest.

And the firm, yet full ass that peeked out from my behind.

And the fact that, except for my eyebrows, eyelashes, and the hair on
my head, I was as smooth as a newborn baby.

All of this pailed, however, in comparison to the always wet, seemingly
sopping cunt that dripped between my well-turned legs.

It had been fifty-eight recorded days, God-knows how long really,
before I was told that Her Goddess' Mistress, The Lady Ishtar, was
granting me, Her Lowly Slut, a audience.  In my prison cell.  I was
told how to deport myself, and how to speak to her, not to look at her
directly, how to follow every order she gave.  And to get cleaned up.

Cleaning up was easy.  They had left me, in my cell, a comb, a brush,
soap, and shampoo.  Towels as well.  I took a shower, combed and
brushed my hair, and put on my clothing....

No, it wasn't "clothing", it was the barest minimum to avoid being
naked.  A simple nylon codpiece with a plastic core with what could
only be a dildio, that fit over my hips.  A demi-bra that only held up
my considerable assets.  A hair ribbon for my already uncontrollable
reddish brown hair.  And that was it.

Three knocks on my door, then the voice said, "Remember, Slut, you turn
to face the window until The Lady Ishtar tells you to turn around.  I
won' t have you disappoint me!

"I hope not," I said, my voice putting it in a low-enough venom, but
still sounding like a playful come-on.  The voice of a temptress, I had
been told, I was given.

"Good," the voice ended, and I turned to face the window.  The door
opened, then it closed.  "Turn around," a female voice, curious and
soft, replied.

I turned around on my knees, looking at The Lady Ishtar's boots.  They
were leather opera pumps with heels that seemed to go forever and ever.
"I am The Lady Ishtar.  And you must be the Slut?"

"I am, Your Holiness," I replied, carefully allowing myself the
privelage of looking up slightly.
She had VERY long legs.

"Good," The Lady Ishtar replied.  Then her tone suddenly became casual,
friendly.  "Your head must have been filled with many things-how to
act, how to kneel, how to sit before me.  Don't think about that now.
For now, and if you are lucky, the future, simple casualness with
suffice.  I am Ishtar, you are the Slut.  I won't call you by your
previous name, after all," she laughed, tossling some of my hair, "with
your body, that name hardly fits!"

There was a sound of something sliding across the floor, then a soft
creak.  "You may look at me now, Slut," The Lady Ishtar said.

I looked up, and saw what could only be the most beautiful woman I had
ever seen in my entire life.  She was about my new height(I assumed
about 5' 9"), and was just plumped out enough to have mass to her
bones.  No beanpole here!  Her breasts were just as large as mine,
amply emphasized by the black demibra and overalls she wore.  Under the
overalls was a green satin blouse that extended to her elbows.  Her
hip-length, fire-red hair was tied in a French braid, tossed almost
casually over her right shoulder.  She had the face of an angel, with a
brilliant white smile.  "I take it, you like what you see?" Ishtar
said, smiling.

"Yes, I do, Your Holiness...." I was about to go through the entire
devotional until she put the buisness end of a rhino-hide whip under my
chin.  "I said, this is informal.  Sit more comfortably, and we shall
talk," Ishtar replied, then let the whip fall.

I moved to sit Indian-style rather than with my legs under my body, and
got as comfortable as one could on limestone.  "Let us start," Ishtar
said, "First of all, there is your recruitment."

"My abduction, ma'am," I replied.

She looked, and her face softened.  "For now, to you, it is an
abduction.  But you will understand, later, what this means for you.
You wrote a story, an editorial, as a matter of fact, about the Women's
Movement.  You're words, I belived, was that you felt it was taken over
by lesbians and controlled by women who felt that men should be
exterminated like rats."

"I have never regreted those words," I said.  "No matter where they
lead me."

"Eh?" Her face became bemused, for a moment.  Then she smiled.  "No,
this isn't you're punishment for telling lesbians off.  In fact, I
praise you!  You have guts, pluck, and a eye for the truth.  That, I
can respect.  And, besides," she giggled, "you're right.  The Feminist
movement has been taken over by Feminazis, as Rush Limbaugh will call
it.  They want to kill men off.  I don't.  Like it or not, they're
here."

"So, why am I here?" I asked.

"Because of all your traits.  You're smart, sensitive, and a sense of
timing that's hard to miss.  A lovely man, to say the least.  I would
have loved to have you, but I couldn't.  Even as a friend, your cock
would have gotten in the way.  You would have wanted to fuck me one
day, no matter how hard you tried to not think about it, and you would
have succeeded, I assure you!  So, I made you into something that we
can both enjoy," Ishtar said.

"You turned me into a woman!  Without my permission, without asking my
wishes!"

"I've known you, Slut.  I stuided your records, in great detail.  You
were never really a man.  Not by the standards of society.  No wonder
women hated you.  You were one of them, and they feared something like
that.  I wanted you, and if I couldn't have you as a man, I would have
you as a Emulator," Ishtar replied, shaking her head.

"Huh?" I asked, curious.

"I'm very, very rich.  So much so, that I can sponsor all sorts of
engineering and chemestry projects.  I had you sculpted in flesh, using
techniques that my company has developed.  You were made, Slut, into
the woman you always wanted to be.  With a few small modifications, of
course.  I had given you a voice that is seductive and as smooth as
slik.  With the proper treatments, you'll live for centuries-and never
lose that perfect face.  You're a woman in all respects of the word,
Slut.  You can even bear children, and even choose the sex," Ishtar
said.

"I made you for two reasons.  The first was for me-I wanted your mind
so much.  The second was to save the world.  Male rulership has lasted
too long-but matriarchy is impractical either.  So that's what you're
for.  As an Emulator, you have lived as a man, but are now a woman, for
the rest of your days.  You know, and have been a part of, both sides
of the sexual equasion."

"So, you want to emulate Engles and bring back a matriarchy, but a
matriarcy of sex-changed women," I said, sneering.

"No," Ishtar said, "I want Emulators.  Men who were once women and
women who were once men.  My name is that, Slut.  You know what it is."

"Ishtar," I said, "is the Babylonian goddess of Love and War.  So, you
want a war, and you want to turn humans into Emulators."

"I want to turn those who should rule into Emulators-that is my war.
And I shall give all the love I can to my soldiers.  My Slut, you shall
know that love," Ishtar said.  "You will know just how loving I can
be."

I don't know what happened, really.  One of my teachers said I took
"easy offense agianst rightiousness." And she was here, preaching a
gospel that sounded like geocide.

So I slapped her.

Hard, with just enough english to leave a killer welt on the side of
her face.  By the time I realized what I had done, it was too late.  I
had heard, from my mysterious keepers, that Ishtar had once ordered a
disobedient Slut's veins opened and the blood to just drain from her
body.

But, as she turned her face around, the angry grimace turned into a
smile.  Then she laughed, a loud, racotious rumble that filled the
room.  "Perfect!  You're still fighting!  You still have spirit!
You'll be PERFECT. Good day, Slut, and we shall meet again," Ishtar
said, smiling.  Then she walked out, still smiling with a swagger in
her step.


   It was the next morning, when I woke up from what could only be a
drug-induced sleep with my arms and legs tightly chained to the floor,
with my ass on fire.  Two IV's were in my arms-intravenous feeding.  I
turned my head, to see a large-type note on my side.



     "Slut,

     "Don't take this personally, but I started on stretching your
     anus.  Normally, I'd go for the larger sizes, but I'm
     starting out small.  For your sake.  In a few weeks, I'll
     even add a vibrator, to just make your life more pleasant.
     By the end of three months, you'll be in perfect shape to
     start your REAL training.

     "-Ishtar"



I let my head loll to look at the celing.  The Universe, I thought,
really decided to have it in for me.



2.     And So My Troubles Resulted In Punishment



I learned, the hard way, why butt plugs were considers such great
"pacifcation" tools.

I spent ten days, chained down, with steadily larger butt plugs
inserted into my anus.  I didn't even know when they changed the plug
-- they had a tranqlizer IV parallel to the food IV, and they knocked
me out before they put in the new one.  Two of them even had vibrators
built in, and it made the pain so much more unbearable-not because it
hurt, mind you, but because it generated so much pleasure and I wanted
to get off so damn bad.

On the eleventh day, I woke up unchained and released from my bonds
with a breakfast in front of me, and a butt plug still resting in my
ass.  I pulled it out, and it was as wide, I estimate, as a D battery.
It was ringed and desinged that it could only be removed delibratly.  I
swore softly, and tossed the thing across the room.  Never to see that
thing again!

Breakfast was simple-cereal, toast, and lots of orange juice, and I ate
it ravenously.  Thirty minutes after eating breakfast, I put the butt
plug back in.

I put it back in because fifteen minutes after eating breakfast, by the
time I felt that I needed to go to the bathroom, I already had -- I was
sitting in a pile of my own shit.  The plug had been in long enough to
lose control of my bowels.  I swore loudly, then put the plug back in.
I swore, as soon as I could find something to cut the plug, I would
trim it smaller, if only to get my bowels back into shape.

I spent two more days, trying to find something that could cut the very
hard rubber of the butt plug, when I fell asleep in a too-sound sleep
that night.

I woke up to a sore chest and nipples.  From the insertion scar, at
least, I had breast implants, and they boosted my chest size to a 40DD.
And on the end of the nipples were a single, sliver ring.  In the
afternoon, I was told to prepare to see Mistress Ishtar again.

This time, she just came in, closed the door, threw a blindfold over
me, and said, "Put your hands behind you." I did so, and handcuffs
latched tightly, but comfortably, around my wrists.  "Now, what shall
we do with you?"

"I can have you killed-but that would be such a waste of good material.
And I don't waste, slut.  So, in my magnaomy," Ishtar said, to my ear,
"I am going to have you punished.  Stand up!"

I was dragged rudely to my feet, and I could feel the cold limestone
under my feet.  "Listen to me.  You will be lashed fifteen times on
your back by a bamboo cane.  You will be restrained to a whipping post,
and you will count out your punishment.  Miss even once, and the
process will start over again.

"But," Ishtar said, in what could only be called a smiling tone, "Your
Emulator body will heal so fast, by tomorrow, you won't even have red
spots.  And, then, you'll be properly trained."

She rudely yanked my body along the hallway, down for about a couple of
hundred yards.  As I stopped, you could almost hear the hushed silence.
Then, without a word, my arms and legs were lashed to post, in such a
position that my back was open and unobstucted.  I could feel something
being attached to the new nipple rings I had, and I waited silently.

"As is our custom," Mistress Ishtar said, in a voice that boomed in the
room.  "We describe the reason for the punshment, as well as the
punishment itself.  This lowly slut, in a fit of rage, struck the holy
personage of Her Goddess' Mistress, The Lady Ishtar.  However, as the
slut does not know of our ways, the full punishment would be useless-an
insult to her because we failed to teach her properly, and a failure to
us because she did not listen properly.

"The normal punishment for strikeing the Holy Presence is fifty lashes
with a bamboo cane.  However, due to her ignorance of our laws, the
punishment is communted to only fifteen lashes.  Mistress-at-Arms, once
the slut is examined for any possiblity of harm, you may carry out the
sentance."

A cold stethascope was placed on my chest, then my pulse taken at two
places.  As well, something was inserted into my cunt.  "She can take
it.  But I will require her to be watched-this is her first time," a
new voice said, male.

"Understood," Mistress Ishtar said.  "Mistress-at-Arms, carry out the
sentance.  Slut, you will call out each lash with the number and a
"Thank You, Mistress".  Do you understand?"

"I understand, your Holiness," I said.

"Start!" Mistress Ishtar yelled.  The next thing I knew, my back seemed
to explode!  There was so much pain....and so much pleasure!  Whatever
was insered in my cunt was vibrating like crazy.  "One, Thank You,
Mistress!" I screamed.

The next one was sheer agony!  I tried to move away, but I could feel
the pinpricks of needles on my breasts-sharp, I could almost feel the
blood- "Two, Thank You, Mistress."

And so it proceeded for fifteen lashes.  When it was all over, and I
swear I didn't miss one-who'd want to repeat this?-I hung on the posts
for what seemed like an eternity, the vibrator wirring away like mad in
my cunt.  I was about to explode-my back felt like it was about to fall
off and I was at that "point" where it would take a little more for me
to have an orgasm.  I was crying and moaning slighly.  With a POP! the
vibrator was yanked out of my ass, leaving me cold.  "Return the slut
to her quarters.  Leave her the usual items."

When I was returned to my cell, the blindfold was taken off and I was
rudly shoved in.  In the room was a dildio that looked more like a
flashlight than a rubber cock and enough jelly to preform a prostate
exam on a boa constrictor.

I took up the dildio like a crazy woman-I must have brought myself to
orgasm at least three or four times, and eventually fell asleep with
the dildio inside me.  When I woke up the next morning, I tossed the
dildio away and cried slightly.  How low could I have gotten?

"Ah, there you are," a voice said, very sympatheic and reassuring.  I
saw a woman there, looking to all the world like a doctor-Chinese with
her long black hair in two very tight braids that wrapped around her
head, wearing the outfit of a doctor, white coat and all.  Her blue
eyes were like looking into crystalline pools, and I felt a wave of
lust come over me for her.  "My name is Lillith.  Mistress Ishtar has
assigned me to your A&FD," she said.

"Huh?" I asked.  I looked like a mess, and felt even worse.

"Oh," Lillith said.  "Do you want me to come back?  I can wait, if you
want to do something...."

"Can I just get freshened up?" I asked.

"Go ahead," Lillith replied, and she left the cell long enough for me
to take a shower.  As I was drying off, she came in with a duffel bag.
"Your clothing.  For now, you'll wear this.  When your A&FD assignment
is done, you'll be allowed to choose your own clothing."

I pulled the clothing out of the bag-jacket, blouse, skirt, bra,
panties, knee-high socks, tampon, and slippers.  "What is A&FD?" I
asked.

"Acclimitisation and Feminine Deportment," Lillith replied.  "'We turn
macho boys into sissy women,'" she said, as if saying a part of a joke.
"Not really, we just train all the MTF Emulators in properly deporting
themselves as female -- the world is a harsh place, and Mistress Ishtar
wants us to give out Emulators the best."

"I see," I replied.

"I told you my name," Lillith said.  "What is yours?"

"I haven't been given one yet," I said.  "Mistress Ishtar keeps on
calling me the slut."

"From now on," Lillith said, her voice tinged with anger, "You are not,
nor will you ever be a 'slut.'  A slut can't control herself.  You can.
A slut is a sexual animal.  You are a professional.  Do you
understand?"

"I do," I said.

"Well," Lillith said, "we can hold off on the name for now.  When you
decide on one, you can tell me.  For now, just call yourself 'Lillith
12', you're the twelth of my link-pair and," she held out a braclet,
"this is yours."

I put all the clothing on(oh the joys of actually being able to wear
clothing that could cover me up in the places I wanted to!)  and put
the bracelet on my right hand.  "So, now what?" I asked.

"Bachellorette quarters," Lillith said.  "When you pass Basic, you'll
be able to meet the rest of your link-pair.  Come on," and we left the
cell.

The cell block was long, and evidently people wern't liking their
captivity as much as others-you could hear the yelling and the pleading
from some of the cells.  A few were banging on them.  "Come along,"
Lillith said, leading me up two flights of empty stairs to a door with
the name LILLITH 12 written on paper tape.  "Make yourself
comfortable," and Lillith left me in there.

A bed with a comforter and sheets.  A mirroed vanity with plenty of
drawers.  I checked, and they were filled with underwear, bras, and
makeup.  The small, walk-in closet had seven more uniforms like mine,
and two night gowns.  The bathroom had a shower, and plenty of shampoo
and soap.  I sat down, to see a note.  In a casual scrawl, I read,



     "Lillith 12,
     "Today starts something very important.  Tomorrow, you will
     learn the basics of feminine deportment.  As your teacher, I
     will expect you on your best behavior, and your best learning
     attitude avalable.
     See you tomorrow.
             "-Lillith."



I lay down on the bed.  A curious thought came through my mind, and I
walked over to the mirror, and looked deeply in it.

The face that looked back was one that belonged to a supermodel or a
queen-not some geeky college boy.  I looked into the forest-green eyes,
softly looking back, and said, "This is going to be one of those days,
isn't it?"

[END EPISODE 2]
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