One Thousand Kisses/Part One

by Marlissa


I drive the long ten miles to the edge of town, wondering what
fun I will have with my little mistress Lily. I keep her in a
cheap apartment on the outskirts of town, conveniently away
from the exclusive executive subdivision where the missus, kids
and dog reside. I pay the apartment manager there something
extra to take care of her shopping needs, so there's absolutely no
need for my caged dove to have a car or even to leave her little
love nest. Lily waits there for me when I have time for her, like
this afternoon.

What she's wearing?, I wonder. There's a quickening in my
blood as I picture her in any number of pretty things she owns.
I may keep Lily on a short leash, but she's given carte blanche
when it comes to ordering clothing and lingerie. Normally I
instruct her precisely in what she is to wear for my visits, but
every so often I allow her the privilege of choosing her own
wardrobe. This is one of those rare days. I think of it as a test
to see just how far she had really come since I assumed
complete control of her life.

I suspect I will be pleased with her choices this afternoon. I
better be-- for her sake. Lily has learned through many hard
lessons just what I like to see her in. The early days were filled
with her stubborn refusals to dress appropriately for me, her
lover. She deliberately didn't wear skirts, wouldn't wear the
pretty lingerie I gave her, rebelled even at the idea of wearing
her panties and bras! Well, that was a long time and many tears
ago. Now Lily wears exactly what a young lady of twenty-five
who happens to be a businessman's mistress should wear.

She has an Amy Grant CD on, and a love ballad calls softly
from the other side of the locked door. Ah, I can smell her
perfume as I slip the key in the door. I open it to see my girl
waiting for me, trying not to show just how skittish my presence
makes her. Lily beams at me with what I know is feigned
pleasure. To think she is happy to see me is fanciful in the
extreme. But my little mistress must at least look happy that I
am here-- she is well aware of my dramatic mood swings. If
she gives so much of a hint that my appearence is distasteful to
her, she's likely to find herself treated to a good old fashioned
over the knee spanking, and that at the very least. So she
smiles, her lips pouting in a coy, ingratiating way.

With cool detachment I inspect my prize and indeed am pleased
with her attire. She rocks nervously from one small foot to the
other, hidden in her red boudoir mules. Lily has picked out the
red silk waist-length kimono I bought her last month when I was
in Toyko. Though she has it sashed, it does nothing to hide the
red half-chemise and the matching thong panty, nor does it hide
her long lustrously smooth legs. Her long auburn hair is tied
with a simple red ribbon into a ponytail, which rests high on her
head and cascades down her shoulders in a fine wash of soft,
sweet-smelling hair. Lily has hypnotically deep green eyes
which are constantly dancing from one object to another, now
looking at me, now her painted nails, now around her
apartment. The fire red lipstick on her lips is a desirable
contrast to her otherwise unpainted face. She has little need for
make-up; her looks are well-defined and classic, with high
cheekbones, a small straight nose, and high forehead, giving her
face a pleasingly "long" look so often seen on models. She is
more Ivy League co-ed than callgirl, with a pronounced Waspy
look. In short, Lily is a natural beauty who you might see in a
Land's End catalog. Well, she's not entirely a natural beauty.

"Hello, darling!" she chirps. I throw her a sardonic grin as I
take my coat off. Instantly she is at my side.

"Please," she purrs, "let me do that." I shrug and allow her to
take the coat, then my jacket off. With great care, she takes
them and hangs them carefully up. As she does, I look around
the living room/kitchenette that dominates her small apartment.
It could be any twenty-something single woman's apartment--
furnished with cheap but comfortable pink painted Pier One
wicker chairs; a coffee table with neatly stacked recent copies
of Glamour, Cosmo, Red Book, and Self; wall-to-wall deep
plush pink carpeting; soothing pastel wallpaper highlighted with
a floral design; a simple brass floor lamp; framed museum
prints. The teevee and VCR setup face the wicker couch,
where Lily enjoys her favorite movies. She has to rely on
movies for entertainment, since the cable is not hooked up. But
I have been generous in providing her with a complete library of
movies which she enjoys over and over again. Some of her
professed favorites include Pretty Woman, Sleepless In Seattle,
and Working Girl. There are other tapes and other magazines
less appropriate for the coffee table, but those are kept in Lily's
bedroom until needed.

"Is Missus Slatsky taking care of you, Lily?" Missus Slatsky is
the apartment manager, an ancient Polish woman who barely
comprehends English. When I first installed Lily here, Missus
Slatsky was alarmed at all of Lily's ramblings, her crying jags
and screaming sessions. Two things assured her that all was
well. First, she was told that Lily had a long history of mental
problems and to ignore any strange things she might say.
Second, the rent check was voluntarily doubled. These seemed
to calm the Polish landlady's concerns at once. And since then,
of course, Lily has calmed down to a significant degree. So
much so that it has given birth to an idea I've been toying with.

"Oh, yes, Darling! Just fine! I hope she hasn't called to
complain again to you," she bites her lower lip, "I promise I've
been behaving myself."

I nodded, dropping myself into one of the chairs. "Be a good
girl and fix me a drink."

She nods and smiles sweetly. "Scotch and water, My Love?" I
nod and she minces off to the kitchen. I pick up the book
opened flat on the coffee table. "This what you're reading?"

She returns with the drink, handing it to me. "Oh, yes! It's just
the most super book I've read in a long time. Thank you so
much for giving it to me. I'm learning so much about," she
stops then continues, "you men and how you think!" She sits
down next to me, her kimono rising up her smooth thighs.

"Women Are from Venus, Men Are from Mars," I read the title.
"Yeah, some of the secretaries said it helped them understand
their boyfriends and husbands better. So, what are you getting
out of it?"

She looks down as she answers, her ponytail flouncing as she
speaks. "Uh, it talks about how men use language as a weapon
to dominate and how we, uh, females try to use language as a
way to please."

I sip my drink. It is mixed perfectly. "Oh really? So you girls
are better at language than we men?"

Lily shook her head. "Oh, no, Darling! I'm just not explaining
it right at all, am I? I'm just repeating things that I don't really
understand-- I'm such an airhead at times, aren't I? Oh why do
you put up with such a stupid girl?" She snuggles next to me
and I stroke her thigh.

"Maybe because she's about the sexiest little doll in town." I
looked at her purposively. She immediately assumed a big
gushing grin. I continue. "Don't worry about it. You just keep
reading your book about boys and girls. I'm sure it's helping
you understand things better--even if you can't explain it very
well, isn't it?"

She nods, pressing her face against my arm. I stroke her thigh
again. "Did I tell you about Lyle's old secretary the last time I
visited?"

"Lola?" Lily lookd up, her lips parted. She gulps and shakes
her head. "No, Darling, you didn't."

I take another deep sip of Scotch. "I fired her."

Lily's green eyes widen. "Really? Why?"

I smirk. "I got tired of her. I'm surprised Lyle kept the bimbo
around as long as he did. What a slut! She's pretty loose if you
understand my meaning. After Lyle's accident I took her on as
my executive assitant. 'Course, she was desperate for a job.
You know, a single mother with a teenage daughter, lots of
debt. That was how Lyle got her to do anything he wanted--
he'd just threaten to fire her. So she went along with it. She
didn't need much breaking in either."

Lily was listening, trying hard not to display any emotion. Her
deep green eyes stared hard into the pink plush carpet.

"She was good at giving blow jobs. Seems that what Lyle used
her for, even bought her knee pads-- what a prick that Lyle was,
huh?"

Lily nods solemnly. "Oh, yes Darling! Just awful!"

"Well," I continue after a deep slug of Scotch, "she was good
on her knees, but she gave me a hassle when I told her I wanted
to do her from behind. Lyle never did her that way, she said.
So I fired her. She started to cry, begged me to keep her on.
She said she'd even let me do her any way I wanted, that she
apologized, that she would be a good secretary." I stopped.

Lily looks up sadly. "So, uh what did you do?"

"Well, I told her it was just too late for apologies. And to be
honest, I wanted to get rid of any reminder of Lyle anyway.
And that she may as well forget about trying to get any kind of
job in town that I didn't want her to have-- that I would make
calls and keep her from getting work. That put her over the
edge. 'But what will I do?' she was crying. I told her if she was
a good girl, I'd talk to my friend about getting her a waitress job
at the Harem Room, under one condition."

Lily gasps. "The strip club? But she's almost forty!"

"Yeah. Well, so she cried and finally agreed. What did I want
from her, she asked. Then I pulled her up, threw her across the
desk and did her from behind. After I was done, I threw her
out. And now she's swinging her ass at the Harem Room." I
chuckle as I recall what my friend the manager told me.
"Seems she has to work real hard for her tips because she only
gets minimum wage. She's gotten real good at earning those
extra dollars under the table. My pal said she found out her kid
needed braces and she's begging him to let her lap dance. He's
trying her out himself first, he said."

Lily looked away sullenly. I held her small chin in my hand.
"Guess Lyle's old girlfriend is really used merchandise, isn't
she?" She didn't answer, but I saw her lips purse in powerless
ire. I let it drop.

"Anyway, at least Lyle's wife is doing fine. Heard she got
married."

Lily fixes her eyes on mine. "What!?!" Then remembering
herself, her tone softens. "Uh, I mean, goodness, who did Janet
marry?"

"That attorney who lived next door."

Again, Lily's voice rises uncharacteristically. "Ken Gage? That
phoney? She married Ken Gage?"

Again, I take her chin in the palm of my hand. "You keep your
voice nice and sweet missy! And yes, she did. Turned out she
was having an affair with him for years and when Lyle had his
tragic accident, she married him. They left town with the big
insurance check she got for Lyle's accident. I know they got
what I got for the policy I put on Lyle shortly before the
accident occurred-- a cool million."

Lily's face burns bright, her cheeks flared red in impotence. She
kept her pouty mouth shut, unwilling to further enrage me.

"I don't think you ever knew that I had a policy on Lyle. But
that was the money that I've used for all your treatments. Why,
Lily-- you're the million dollar girl!"

A tear dropped from her hard emerald eye, but she remained
silent. I brushed it from her cheek. "There, there, Doll. No
tears on that pretty face. I want to see a smile."

I can tell my bombshell has devastated her. Nevertheless, she
looks up and and forces her plump lips into a cheerful smile.

"Good girl," I respond. "Let's take this off now, shall we?" I
unloosen her kimono belt and draw it off her pale shoulders.
She shivers as I caress her bare shoulder through the red half
chemise. The half-top rises high on her trim, flat tummy and
over her small but pert pair of breasts. I finger the spagetti strap
of my mistress'es chemise.

"Very sexy. Victoria's Secret?" Her breathing is harder and I
watch her petite chest rise and fall with fascination. I savor her
nervousness with selfish abandon.

"Uh, no, darling. Playtime Designs." Her smile is thinner, her
voice more brittle. You'd have thought after a whole year, Lily
would be more relaxed with my hands on her lithe, taut body! I
let my hand drop to her lap, and my fingers tug gently at the
thong panty waistband.

"Very hot. Stand up, Lily girl. I want to get the whole effect."

Lily obeys, rising in her high-heeled mules and facing me with a
wistful, concerned gaze. With invisible grace she spreads her
legs ever so slightly. One palm sinuously rubs up her thigh, till
it finds rest on her hip, while the other remains still by her side.
Her head is held high, though her eyes are on the carpet. She
hates being scrutinized this way, like a mannequin, but I love it.
I drink in the stimulating vision of my young mistress thus
posing in her lingerie for me, her little bumps of breasts
straining against the tight red silk of the half-chemise, nipples
rubbing hard against the soft fabric, the way her red thong panty
jealously guards the feminine charms of her velvety boyish hips.

"Turn around."

She spins like a top, pirouetting to display her backside. It is so
erotically appealing, such a tender and inviting prize of plump,
rounded flesh. I want to rip her dainty red thong off and use her
at once, so excited am I by my young mistress! But I refrain.
The afternoon is long. I merely pat her briskly and pull her into
my lap.

As she sits squirming in my lap, I let my hand slope over her
thigh and cup the small bulge in the red thong. "And how is
Lyle today, Lily?" I ask cruelly.

"O.k., I guess, Dear. Only sometime he hurts so much," Lily
pouts. I squeeze the bulge and she blushes.

"And why is that Lily?" I press.

Her sad green eyes look at mine, seeking some mercy.
"Sometimes he gets hard and the chastity belt cuts into him. It
really, really hurts, Darling!"

I shrug. "Guess you shouldn't think naughty thoughts. Then
Lyle wouldn't get so excited, now would he? Besides, the only
thoughts that should get you hot and bothered are thoughts
about me. And those kind soft girl thoughts wouldn't get Lyle
horny would they? "

She nods, giving up the subject as easily as I brought it up.
"No, Honey. They wouldn't. I'll try hard to keep thinking about
you and not to think those other thoughts. But after I've learned
My Lesson, then it can get hard again, can't it My Darling
Dearest Lover? And maybe Lyle can come back again?" Her
eyes are pleading now, frantic to hold onto this thought.

I pat the bulge and smile. It is the first time she has whined
about being a girl since I walked in the door. She has been
getting better every day about refraining from asking the
perrenial Question. Though naturally it spills out. She can't
help it. The fact of it is that my Lily doesn't really like being a
girl for me, not matter how much she proclaims her feelings for
me.

"Oh, maybe." I give her this small hope. It doesn't
do any harm and gives her something to hold onto. Naturally
she won't be returning to her former masculine self. She is too
delicious a mistress. My hand is creeping up her chest now,
exploring underneath her chemise. "Any change in your bra
size, pet?"

She sighs. "No Darling Dearest. Still 32 A's. I know how
disappointed you are in me." She watches me twiddle her hard
nipples with a sulky sour expression. She hates having breasts,
hates that I point out how tiny her bosom is, hates how every
day her measurement is still the same unacceptably small size.

"Hmmm," I ponder, "perhaps you'll have to see Dr. Villanueva
for some help in that area."

She squirms. She can't help it. Lily equates the good Doctor
with every kind of physical agony it is possible to conjure up.
It was Villanueva who helped me transform Lyle, my young,
promising, overly-ambitious protege into Lily, the delightful
feminine toy I now hold in my lap. "Darling," she begins
cautiously, "is that really necessary? I thought you said last
time that you were getting to like my boobs?" She thrusts her
chest out ever so teasingly.

Lily isn't exactly telling the truth -- what I did say was that I
was getting used to her little knockers. But I have spoken to
Villanueva about her boobies already and it seems quite
hopeless. The hormones have done what they could and
implants are the only option. Which would be fine, except that
when Dr. Villanueva conducted the radical surgery that turned
the 5' 9" 155 pound Lyle into the 5" 4" 115 pound woman that
is now Lily, he did such a complete job that any alterations now
will jeopardize Lily's health. Her reduced frame simply
couldn't carry the increased weight of more eye-catching
breasts-- even B cups! Villanueva tells me it is a problem many
flat chested women have discovered with implants in the last
decade. Though often the increase is minimal at best, the
adding strain can wreak havoc on the back and neck muscles.
So Lily, though she doesn't know it, is permanently stuck with
her pointy, perky girlish boobs. Because just as you can't
increase the strain on the subject's body, you can't just change it
back either.

Ironic, isn't it? I allow her to hold onto the slim hope that she
may someday be allowed to be a male again-- if she learns all
her "girlie lessons" to my satisfaction. But if I ever did turn her
back, she wouldn't survive the transition! The metamorphisis--
including metabolism modification, feminized body chemistry,
artificial female hormone generation, the surgery that increased
the body fat around her hips and bust, the shorteniong of her
calves to better accept high heels, the miniaturization of her feet
and hands, the collagen that gives those lips their pouty lift-- all
of it is now impossible to turn back. But she isn't yet ready to
accept that fact yet. So I continue with the charade that it is still
possible for her to become a 'him" again. It comforts her when I
am out of patience with her or particularly harsh. Someday I
will tell her though, I suppose.

She grins blissfully as I tweak her nipples. I don't bring up the
doctor again. "Oh, Darling! I am trying to get all those bad boy
thoughts right out of my head! How lucky I am to be such a girl now!

I'm sooo very happy now-- I can't believe I was ever a boy, even for a

single minute!" She bent down and addressed her remarks to the small
bulge tightly packed into the locked chastity belt she wears
underneathe her thong. "Oh, how I hate that awful thing!" She looks
up at me, all sweetness and hot, breathy promises.

"Darling, I'm trying so hard to be the perfect woman for you!
All I want to do is make you happy! I miss you all day and I'm
so lonely when you're away from me! I promise, I'm trying to
be such a good girl for my man." The little minx rubs her hot
cheeks against mine. "Your Lily wants you to forget all about
that naughty boy Lyle!" Her lips part and she takes my hand in
hers, kissing it dutifully. "I'm going to prove to you that I'm just
what you want me to be-- your precious princess, who loves
you with all her heart!" She takes my finger in her mouth now,
letting her tongue worship the digit as I pump it in and out.