Eve Quest
Keywords: Quest, Eve,
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Chapter 1
My name is, or maybe we better make that was, Andy Moore. Until recently my personal identification was in the name of Jamie Jo Moore and everyone I knew called me Sissy.
My parents died in an automobile accident when I was twenty-four years old leaving me an estate of around $3,000,000.00 and an eighteen percent interest in an insurance company in Nashville, TN. I spent my college years in Nashville and liked the town so I moved there as soon as the estate was settled. I bought an elegant existing home in the Belle Meade area and accepted a do nothing job with the insurance company.
My sex life was pitiful. At six-feet tall and 168 pounds on a slender frame I was no Adonis. I had long blond hair, green eyes and a pale complexion. I didn"t participate in outside activities, like golf or tennis, gravitating instead to upscale bars, indoor sporting events and invitation-only parties.
For millions of reasons some girls were attracted to me, but I was shy and self-conscious around women. I ran with a group of guys that liked to drink and party, but none of them were real lady-killers either.
My friend Luke and I were at the Tennessee Bar late one evening when a short blond beauty came drifting in. She was with two other gals, also knockouts. They drank, played the shuffleboard and danced together to some Latin jukebox music.
An hour or so after they arrived the blond walked over to where I was seated. She wore a sheer pale blue blouse leaving her navy blue camisole clearly visible. Her nipples were prominent. Her breasts shimmied as she walked.
Standing very close to me she asked, "Do you dance?"
"No, Ma"am." I stammered out. Her face was thin, Scandinavian. Her eyes were as blue as a summer sky. She wore little makeup, but her full lips were a delicious wet red.
She leaned over and whispered in my ear. "Do I look old enough to be your mommy?"
I was starring down her blouse at her beautiful bare breasts and it occurred to me that there would be some advantages to being her baby.
"No." I said and almost added ma"am again, but I caught myself. "I mean I don"t dance to this kind of music."
She smiled and leaned over to whisper in my ear again. "Do you fuck?"
I turned bright red and looked down. She turned and I watched her walk back to her seat. A navy blue, knee-length skirt corralled two fluid orbs. Her legs were full, smooth and bare. She had a classic, voluptuous body and a swing to her hips that would stop traffic in Times Square. When she reached her table she said something to her friends and they all laughed. My friend Luke asked me what she said. I tried to blow it off, but he kept on and on so I finally told him.
"Damn, son. If I were you I"d take another look at that dame, get over there and tell her yes."
Easy for him to say, I thought. I hated aggressive women, but Luke just wouldn"t let it go so I finally agreed to send her a bottle of champagne and see what happened.
I watched as my beautiful blond poured two glasses. Her stiletto heals assaulted the dance floor as she walked over to where I was sitting and offered me one of the glasses. Although she spoke in a normal tone, it seemed to me she used a bullhorn. "Here"s to fucking."
I was sitting there holding my glass like a bump on a stump. She clinked her glass on mine and sipped the bubble wine. I might have been mistaken for a statue.
A broad smile revealed beautiful teeth. She waved her hand in front of my face and said. "Hello, anybody home?"
I snapped out of my trance, downed my drink and said. "Cheers."
She sat her glass on the bar and extended her hand. "I"m Sheila. Sheila Taylor."
"Hi, Sheila. I"m Andy Moore. Pleased to make you, I mean meet you." I"d almost gotten a complete sentence out without making an ass out of myself.
She flashed another lovely smile and said. "Andy, that"s some line."
I laughed, still in the grip of her delicate hand. "Let me buy your dinner and I"ll promise to come up with something better." I said.
"I"ve eaten." She said and handed me a card. "Call my cell tomorrow and we"ll see."
Her card said she was the president of Cumberland Investments.
Our courtship lasted only ninety days. I learned she had an MBA and had parlayed a six-figure income with one of the Wall Street firms into a brokerage company of her own. She and her parents didn"t speak and mine were dead so we weren"t likely to have any in-law problems. She was adamant that she wanted no children, but she was a sexual machine with a voracious appetite. I, on the other hand, had limited sexual experience. My first time was with a neighborhood girl when I was fourteen. She was seventeen. We gyrated around with her on top and I ejaculated. What a thrill. My second experience was with a gay friend in college. I didn"t tell Sheila about the later experience, but it was obvious I was sexually inexperienced.
We were married in a civil service and honeymooned in Hawaii for a month. We returned home and settled into a comfortable routine. An outside observer might have called it normal and but, for those occasions when I dressed up in women"s clothes, it might have been.
I"ve been "dressing-up" since childhood and I never told Sheila. Like most transvestites, sneaking around to dress just added to the excitement. I shopped the Internet for hours before selecting the perfect items and had them shipped to my secret post office box. There was a small hidden room off the garage I had converted into a closet and dressing room.
This normal life was to change completely one afternoon about ten months after we married. I arrived home after work, threw my keys on a table in the foyer and walked into the den. It was a beautiful; richly appointed room with dark paneling, honey oak flooring and Turkish rugs. Sheila was lying naked on the floor. I recognized the woman next to her to be her former college roommate Jenny Renee Wilson. They were locked in a sixty-nine position, lapping away at each other"s pussies. I stood transfixed, both shocked and intrigued. After a few moments, Jenny looked up and said, "Get the fuck out of here." Then she returned to work on Sheila cunt.
To this moment I"m not sure why I didn"t jerk her up and kick her skinny little ass. It wasn"t really about Jenny. It was about Sheila. I realized I was afraid to rile her and something deep inside me caved in. A newfound subservience guided my steps as I turned and left the house.
I drove to a small bar down the street and drank a couple of beers. An hour or so later it dawned on me it was the first of April, April fool"s day. I called home and Sheila answered the phone.
"Hello." She said in a cheerful tone.
"April fools, right?" I said.
"Come home immediately." She said.
As I traveled home, my April fool supposition gave way to a feeling of impending doom. My hand rattled the front door knob as I entered the house.
Chapter 2
The sight as I entered our den was almost as shocking this time as it had been a few hours earlier. As before, I found them in the den. Sheila sat atop a barstool. Her soft shoulders and ample 36C breasts fell gracefully to a 22" waist and 38" hips. She was dressed in a white on white brocade corset. It was a straight-line design without cups, so it flattened her breasts against her chest and caused them billowed over its top. She wore no panties and sometime since I"d seen her last, her pussy had been shaved. Smooth and fat it protruded from her pubic bone like a flesh-colored peach. Her white stockings were attached to the corset with three garters to a side. She wore white single-banded sandals with 4" spike heels. Her nails flashed red.
Jenny stood beside her, 5" 7" tall and very slender. Her short platinum blonde hair and the ringlets across her forehead gave her a severe 1920"s look. She wore a black leather waist cincher. Her bare B-cup breasts sat firmly on her smooth chest. Each long, thick nipple sported a silver barbell. Black leather garters supported her black fishnet hose. Her polished black, high-heel boots were laced up to just below her knees.
Haltingly, I stopped and faced them.
Sheila"s tone was businesslike. "You may strip, kneel and await our orders or you may pack and leave forever."
The scene was surreal. I rubbed my chin, looked at Jenny and then at Sheila "Why are you doing this, darling?"
Sheila slid down from her stool, slowly sat her drink down and deliberately walked over to face me. She slapped me hard across the face with her open right hand as she said. "Strip bitch."
I towered over her, rubbing my check. After a long moment I made the last free-will decision I would ever make. I began unbuttoning my shirt.
"Fold you clothes carefully and place them on the coffee table." Sheila said, as she returned to her seat.
"I told you the little fag would do it." Jenny said looking at Sheila. She was absolutely giddy with excitement. "You can"t imagine how much fun this is going to be, our very own slave."
I undressed and stood before them. My eyes were on Jenny because in my mind she had to be the catalyst for this unbelievable turn of events. She was very pretty, but at that moment, her pointed chin and small mouth struck me as shrewish.
"Get on your knees sissy and don"t eyeball me." Jenny said.
I obeyed, starring at the floor.
In an ominous tone Sheila added. "It"ll be in your best interest not to ever look a woman in the eyes again, and I damn sure better not catch you looking at their tits or asses. My suggestion for you would be to develop a foot fetish." She walked over and stood in front of me, cunt to nose so to speak. "Do you understand?"
"Yes." I said.
"Yes. Is that how you address your superiors?"
"No. Ah, Ma"am. Ah, Mistress. I mean yes I understand, Mistress."
Sheila continued. "We know about your girly clothes and your fag magazines. So, I"m sure you"ll be pleased to know you"ll be spending the rest of your life as a girl. You'll be a maid and a slut, but a girl nonetheless. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mistress.
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Keywords: Quest, Eve,