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The next spunk he sucked so devotedly out of me was Brian’s, his own boss’s, the

very bank official who had first sent him here. It happened the first day after

Jim’s total makeover, when without being fully aware of it Jim had committed to

dressing and looking like a woman for good, the first day after his three-week

full-time crash course in femininity had gotten under way. I thought of telling

Jim this to mortify him, that he was sucking his boss’s cock at one remove, but I

couldn’t violate client confidentiality. Then I realized that with Brian’s

cooperation I could convert Jim completely and irreversibly by the end of the

three weeks available. So why shouldn’t he suck his boss’s cock directly, and

enjoy it? Many women do. No news there!

I mentioned to Brian that I had this curious transsexual client, a man he had

recommended to me who now thought he was really a woman and who thinks semen on a

cock tastes like melted ice cream. Brian immediately recognized that it was Jim,

as I’d intended, and immediately asked for an introduction to this “lady” who

felt so impelled to suck cock. He’d wondered what was happening with Jim

because, as he said, Jim’s perfume and make-up had been duly noticed by everyone.

In fact he’d become something of an embarrassment, fixing his face daily,

arranging his hair like a woman’s even while he pretended to be a man, so he’d

been reassigned to a back office.

I asked Brian straight out, would he let Jim suck his cock. He was amused by the

idea. He quipped that many employees seem willing in order to secure

professional advancement, but even so, he’d have trouble letting a man come near

his prick. He thought a bit longer. A man who looked and acted like a woman

might be another matter. And a man who was already so much a woman he could

never again become a man, why, he’d enjoy being serviced by that kind of woman.

Especially — and he looked at me — especially if there were no charge for the

service. Was I sure that Jim’s conversion was now irreversible?

I told him that in another week or two it would be, that with his help there

could be no going back for Jim ever. What he had to do was quite simple — audit

Jim’s books at the bank. But in absolute secrecy, and to do absolutely nothing

about whatever he found.

Brian looked quite serious when I said this, and was about to refuse. But I

added quickly that any irregularities in Jim’s accounts would be set straight

together with whatever interest was required to convert missing funds into

“loans.” That I personally guaranteed whatever the sums, as long as they

remained confidential. That no one need ever know about them, nor about the

slack supervisorial hand that had allowed them even when the employee began

acting peculiarly unconventional. That not even Brian’s wife needed to know that

he had been tipped off to the embezzlement, if any, by a woman who regularly

gratifies his need to be whipped. I now looked back at Brian equally seriously.

He grinned, and explained that when money has been mismanaged or embezzled, most

businesses prefer getting it all back quietly to pressing charges against the

embezzler and perhaps thereby giving other employees ideas of their own, and

meanwhile needlessly distressing stockholders. Of course the malefactor had to

disappear and never reappear again, or Brian would be obliged to order his

arrest. I nodded and agreed. Jim would disappear.

I then told Bryan that just as banks give depositors gifts of radios or toasters,

he would receive a bonus — no charge for his first few deposits into Jim’s

mouth, and afterward the two of them would be free to make their own

arrangements. Brian might never have to pay for oral sex again. Brian smiled.

“I wonder why you’re so generous,” he commented. Brian was no fool.

The next day, while Jim was slurping away at my pussy and drinking up who knows

who’s cum, and while I was moaning, my mind delightedly dancing through fields of

fragrant flowers, I told Jim I had a arranged a special surprise for his next

appointment. I told him it would change his life. I told him to try to look as

beautiful as he could when he appeared, as feminine as possible. I told him to

ask his wife to help him look seductive.

That night he laid on the bed a choice, a beautiful, black sequinned,

figure-clinging cocktail dress, very classy, and a really racy, silver-threaded,

mini-slut dress. Then he tried to find the courage to broach the subject with

me. I knew he’d be nervous, so I laced his pre-dinner cocktail with fresh

tranquillizers instead of relying as usual on whatever effects were left from his
…End of the part1. To be continued..