Date: Fri, 23 Aug 2002 01:26:26 +0000
From: marcia st.denis <marciatv@hotmail.com>
Subject: Corruption - Chapter 1

By Marcia St. Denis and Erica Wright
Copyright 2001. All rights reserved.

We wrote this story with you, as a connoisseur of erotic transvestite
fiction, and your insatiable desire for the bliss of release uppermost in
our minds. We hope our tale will bring you much pleasure over many sessions.
Write to us if we have been successful. We would love to know that you
enjoyed our perverted little world of depraved people and sordid affairs.

Chapter One

At 16, little Markie Deniston was afraid and lonely. His mother had died in
a car accident the previous year leaving him all alone with his 42 year old
step-father. Tom Deniston, a corporate lawyer with an elite client base, was
lost without his wife. He had come unglued when she died. He was overwhelmed
at the sudden upheaval in his world and had no way to deal with it. His life
until that point had followed a well-scripted if not pre-ordained path.
Prep-school, pre-law at Princeton, Harvard Law, Corporate Law Partner, then
his own successful practice. Everything had worked as planned, along the way
he had picked up a beautiful and intelligent wife. That she had a son from a
previous marriage had been the only wrinkle, and a minor one at that as he
grew to like the boy. Now, figuring out how to be a good parent to Markie
was perhaps the hardest task he faced. It seemed almost to paralyze him with
indecision about what to do or how to do it. Even he had to admit that at
the best of times he hadn't been much of a Dad. He had never needed to be,
with Sarah there to do the parenting for both of them. His career came
first. His wife Sarah came second and Markie a distant third.

It wasn't that he didn't love Mark, it was just that he didn't really know
what to do with the boy now that Sarah had left them. Making the problem a
bit more difficult was the boy himself, so unlike any boy he had ever known
before. Always a sensitive child, he had become even more so with Sarah
gone. He reacted in very emotional, almost feminine ways to the stresses of
daily life bursting into tears at the slightest remark that triggered a
memory and, as a result, he had become obsessed with the memory of his
mother. In so doing, he also had developed his own coping mechanism by
setting up a shrine to her that he could visit to "be" with her. What she
used to call her "special retreat", her "sanctuary": her combined bath,
dressing room and boudoir had become a museum. He wouldn't allow anyone
other than his father to come near the three rooms. Over the course of the
two years since her death, Mark had retreated further and further into her
world to the point where he spent every waking hour there other than when he
went to school or came down to dinner. He had moved all of his clothes into
the closets and bureau of her dressing area, took all of his baths in her
large sunken tub and had eventually begun sleeping in the giant
lace-covered, four-post, canopied and veiled bed that dominated her boudoir.

Tom wasn't so sure this was a good idea but whenever he walked into the
rooms to talk to Mark and felt her presence so alive and intense, he was
immediately calmed and intuitively understood why his step-son needed to be
there. It was Mark's way of dealing with the grief and sense of loss that
her death brought, and Tom hoped that it was just a phase that would pass.

Tom marveled at how perfectly Mark had preserved Sarah's presence. Mark had
collected every photograph he could find of his mother and he seemed to
treat the ones Tom had taken of her in states of semi-dress or in the bath,
or at her vanity while applying make-up in her lingerie with special care
and attention. With his step-father's permission, Mark put them in the most
exquisite and ornamentally feminine frames he could find. Actually, Tom
thought his son's choices of frames were entirely fitting since Sarah had
been perhaps the most incredibly feminine woman he'd ever known. Her extreme
femininity had been one of the major reasons he had married her and had
become so entirely devoted to her. Unlike any woman he had known before,
Sarah had immediately caught his eye as a young lawyer because of her always
exquisite makeup and perfectly colored and coiffed hair, her incredible
sense of style (wearing clothes and shoes that were at once stylish and
sexy). She favored the body hugging, blatantly sexual style of Ungarro,
Escada, Mugler and Versace over the blandly comfortable designs of Armani,
Lauren, St. John or Donna Karan. She also insisted on the laciest lingerie,
the filmiest nightgowns and peignoirs, the most obviously sexual push-up
bras and the skimpiest bits of satin and lace thongs. She wore stockings and
never pantyhose, preferring to go bare-legged if stockings wouldn't work
with an outfit. She wore only strappy sandals or open-toed pumps and mules
with 4" heels from Charles Jourdan and Manolo Blatnick and wouldn't be
caught dead in the elegant matronliness of Gucci. She wasn't very interested
in looking "comfortable". She was interested in looking sexy and available.
She truly loved men and loved being the object of their desires. She dressed
to attract their attention and there was never any doubt among her
girlfriends at all about whether she dressed for men or for other women. She
adored men. She liked everything about them. From their strong hands and
broad shoulders, to their piercing eyes that seemed always to be undressing
her, to their rough beards, to their musky smell, to their tight little
butts, to their masculine obsession with contact sports and coarse bathroom
humor, to their cute insecurity about the size of their dicks.  She played
men for everything they were worth. Sarah was the master of flirting and
used her sexuality shamelessly to get whatever she wanted, whenever she
wanted it. Tom Deniston was her greatest conquest.

Tom was a man's man. Tall, handsome, dark and swarthy, he was intelligent
and ruthless. Hugely successful, he got whatever he wanted and most of the
time he wanted beautiful women. The other times he wanted power and wealth
and prestige. When he had married Sarah, he had abdicated his independence
and subordinated his needs to hers. In effect, she became his world. Outside
of the courtroom nothing else mattered. When she died, a large part of him
had died with her. When Markie had begun collecting her pictures and
arranging them on the antique French provincial side table and on the makeup
cluttered vanity in her "sanctuary", Tom thought it was wonderful and he
encouraged the boy.

He was largely unconscious of the gradual withdrawal from reality Markie was
going through because he too had begun to lose touch completely with
reality. Her death had hit him hard. He started drinking more than was good
for him. He knew it would lead to no good but he couldn't help it. He needed
the foggy release that the alcohol gave him and the liquor helped dull his
aching memory. He was so lost that he didn't even notice that his practice
started to lose clients. When for the first time, he couldn't meet his
firm's payroll, he was unconcerned. 'Hell, it's just a temporary slowdown'
he yelled at his accountant. Business would pick up.

But it didn't pick up. Within a couple of months he had to let most of his
staff go. Worse was that it didn't bother him very much. By then he was
thinking of other things. He spent most afternoons at a strip joint called
"X-Girl's". Entire weeks of afternoons passed as he watched hot young
'girls' take off most of their clothes. After the second straight week he
began getting plastered with his new best friend, Tony Zarelli. Tony owned
the place and was a shrewd operator. His capo told him to keep an eye on Tom
and to befriend him.

"You don't never know when ya gonna need a good lawyer. Ya know? Be nice to
him. Let him taste the wares. Hook him Tony. Hook him hard." The advice he
got from his capo was solid.

Within a month Tom began leaving the office around 2 PM. He would walk to
the west-side strip joint and slip into the bar that had the sexiest babes
with the nicest tits and the slimmest, tightest butts in town. By the time
he sat down to have his first drink of the day he'd be sweating and
beginning to feel the shakes come on.

"Oh Yessss! God, I needed that." Tom would hiss after his first shot. After
3 or 4 he'd start to feel better and usually about then, Tony would show up
and take him back to the "Play Room" where one of the girls would be waiting
with the six lines of white powder. Tony would leave and they would share it
together.

"Oh FUCK" Tom would shout after the first line went up his nose. While his
girl was snorting her line, he'd reach for her huge silicone tits and begin
twisting her nipples with one hand while he got down on his knees between
her spread legs to pull the suddenly tight thong to the side. He always felt
a twinge of embarrassment when Sami's engorged cock throbbed into view.
None-the-less he always began kissing and licking her sweet smelling,
completely smooth, sexually charged cock and balls. Until the first time
he'd done coke, the thought of sucking a big prick was the farthest thing
from his mind. That first time he'd been flying and had just wanted to give
his Samantha back some of the intense pleasure she was giving him. He had
licked the purple tip tentatively. When she cooed to him, "Open your mouth
honey, it'll just feel like the biggest hottest clitty you ever sucked..."
he had done as she encouraged, and in no-time he had sunken further from his
planned life. Even if he never did it again, he had sucked a throbbing cock
till it erupted all over his face. He had never, ever thought that
"cock-sucker" could be applied to him without error. Yet there he was, day
after day, doing his lines of white pleasure and sinking to his knees to
suck his babydoll's big fat prick till it poured out its thick, sticky,
velvet cream.

That first time, Sami had grabbed the back of his head and pulled his mouth
on and off her prick for ten or twelve minutes. As he sucked her massive
bone, the thought of what was going to happen if his first-ever blow-job was
successful never crossed his mind. When he heard her groan out, and then
felt her entire body stiffen he should've realized what was coming, but he
was way too high. She shoved her throbbing cock-head deep into his mouth and
then began cumming. The first three or four globs of sperm, combined with
her cock so far back in his throat, choked Tom. Her cum gushed out of his
mouth and across his face, down his neck, soaking his tie and dress shirt.
She pulled back slightly and emptied the rest of her load. Initially
surprised and simultaneously revolted, Tom still began gulping down her
salty cum. Her stern words of encouragement only helped drive his
excitement.

"Swallow my load, you're my BITCH now! You think you're such a big shot
lawyer... who's sucking a hard prick now?... Not me, but you, fucker! Keep
gobbling my hot sperm... my sweet little cum-boy..."

He hadn't realized where her foot was until he was groaning himself. He had
been absentmindedly rubbing his crotch against her shapely leg like a horny
dog and she had happily rubbed the shiny tip of her pump against his cock
and balls. He was surprised and over-powered by the strength of his orgasm,
and kept sucking her softening prick until she pushed his face away.

"What a good boy... that was your first blow-job wasn't it little sweetums?"
Tom looked down and shook his head yes. He looked at the huge wet stain on
the front of his pants.

"Tommy liked it... you liked it so much you came too..." She pointed to the
mess in his crotch. "Come here baby. Lets do another line. I think Sami
needs your hard prick someplace dark and warm... we'll keep this
cock-sucking thing our little secret. Hmmmm? OK? There, there, Sami knows
what her little boy needs, doesn't she?"

That afternoon Tom had been so drained he thought he'd never be unable to
get it back up, and that night Tony had sure found the videotape exciting.

"See... you got 'im now..." His cappo said watching the tape with him. "Get
a couple more tapes like this, you'll have him in your pocket forever...
wait, I got a fuckin' brilliant idea...maybe you can dangle a juicy tip in
front of that cunt Samantha. If she can get her dick up his ass...on tape,
that'll be golden. If he got high enough to suck her fucking prong and slip
it into her sweet ass... who knows... maybe he'll do that too..."

On the tape of the next session, Tony heard Sami coo, "Ooooo, honey...
Mmmmmm... that feels so good sugar..."  She giggled. "...Now baby, slow down
and come back up here to Momma so I can give you more of your medicine.
Oh... yes! That's a good little boy.... Take this little bit of heaven all
the way in... Oh yeah! Snort it deep... Now more for me... Ohhhhh fuck,
yes..... Doesn't that feel good baby? Hmm? Don't you feel great? You flyin'
dollface? Don't you want to make me feel good other places, sugar?" Cooing
in his ear while opening his fly she would snake her hand into his pants,
stroking his rigid member before finally freeing it from the confines of his
pants.

He was learning to love sucking his special girl's cock, but this was the
part of his day that Tom loved most. Every day. He loved what the Colombian
Powder did to his brain and to his cock. He loved watching Sami scooch
forward on the couch and lift her legs up to her double D chest. He loved
feeling her perfectly manicured hand reach down to his throbbing tool and
slick it with lube.

"Right there baby, stuff it in right there... oo-hhhh your big dick feels
soooo good, stretching me wide open, after all the dicks I've had, I can't
believe how good you're  makin' this girl feel..." He loved watching her
guide his tip to her tight hole and then hear her beg him to fuck her.
Flying high from the coke only intensified every movement. To feel his big
fat cock slide into her ass, past her incredibly tight sphincter and hang in
the void of her rectum, was something he could never get enough of. Sarah
had been adventurous, but she had never let him fuck her up the ass. Now
that he'd had this incredible form of sex, he didn't ever think he could
ever go back.

As he fucked in and out, he would hesitate briefly, enjoying the tight heat
surrounding his cock before beginning to fuck Sami harder. While fucking her
up her ass she would curse and abuse him with obscenities. He secretly knew
that he really was the "perverted, worthless, disgusting, strung out piece
of man-scum" she said he was. The knowledge of the degradation he was taking
part in only took him higher than he had ever known was possible. He had
gotten to the point where he could fuck her for fifteen or twenty minutes
before pumping her ass full of sperm. All the while she would be groaning
out in her throaty purr. Encouraging him to "fuck her she-male twat" and to
enjoy "Sami's tight ass". Finally, as the sweat made their bodies slippery
from exertion, she would beg him to stroke her clit,

"Squeeze my big fat girlcock huney. Please? Just take it in your hand you
piece of cum-sucking crap... stroke it while you fuck me!" As he neared
climax he would reach down between them and grab her enormous rock-hard
stiffie. He would jack it in perfect time to his long hard thrusts, it was
almost as if he were stroking his own cock. At this point they were more
like animals, both racing to cum first. He wanted her to cum first, because
as she came, her ass would contract wildly around his cock, driving him over
the edge too. When Samantha's cum shot out and splattered their stomachs and
chests and cocks and balls, he would finally succumb to a mind-numbing,
muscle-paralyzing orgasm, the likes of which he had never known or ever even
thought was possible. Afterwards, as they lay there recovering, his
softening cock still up her cum filled ass, he could feel her cum and their
sweat cooling on the both of them.

This particular day, she whispered something strange, "Honey boy, you see
how crazy Samantha gets when you do her. Do you ever wonder what a big hard
cock would feel like up your tight little boy-ass? Think about that for a
minute babydoll. You could squeeze and suck my big tits like a baby, while I
fuck you, and I could stroke your hard cock just like you do for me..."

He was stunned. Recently he had wondered just that, but even though he had
sunk so low, so fast, he knew he wasn't quite ready to have his ass fucked
by some cheap she-male stripper.

"Uhhh no. I don't think it sounds like much fun to me!" He said a little too
defensively. Samantha knew from his hesitation that he had indeed thought
about her cock sliding into his virgin hole, but she also knew not to push.
In the past, she had had any number of 'straight' customers who paid to have
her stuff her prick up their tight asses. She often thought about them going
home to their wives or girlfriends with a hot load of her sperm up their
butts. Tom was incredibly intrigued, what would that feel like? He felt his
cock twitch and pulled back from Sami.

"Gotta use the john, be right back..."

While he was in the bathroom he cleaned up and decided to cut the night
short.

"I just remembered, I have to get home early tonight... Do I owe you
anything...?" he said smiling at Samantha.

"Nah...its all on Toni, you know that... have a good night."

She waved to him as he closed the door to the private room. She had felt his
cock throb. She knew what he wanted. She knew she'd get him in the end.

"I'm gonna fuck YOU up the ass HARD!" she said laughing while pointing to
the closed door. She lazily stroked her cock, imagining how good Tom's
virgin hole would feel wrapped around her prick!

As Tom rushed home that night, more confused than he'd been in months he had
no idea there was a three-grand bounty from Tony on his virgin ass if it
could get caught on tape. He also didn't know that it didn't really matter
what he wanted. Samantha was a professional, and she would gently prod,
guide and finally push him until he ended up on his back, legs spread,
begging for her hard bone to split him open.