Chapter 22 – Part 1, A Queer Bitch

This is chapter 22, part 1 of the Pleasing María novel. If you are under 18 years of age, or are offended by explicit descriptions of sexual activity or violence, or by strong language, please exit this site immediately. To view the Table of Contents of the novel click here. To go directly to the first chapter, click here. To read the latest novel post, click here. This is a rough second draft.

Chapter 22 – Part 1, A Queer Bitch

The maid passed through my room every weekday as a maintenance closet was located in the hobby room. One day she stumbled, upturned her basket on the floor and everything went flying. I thought I heard some object slide under the intercom cabinet, but the maid didn’t notice. She retrieved her items and continued out the door and locked it. I looked under the cabinet, saw something shiny and fished out a key – the key to my door! That afternoon, I went into town and made a copy of the key, and then restored the original to its spot under the cabinet. The maid found it several days later.

Armed with my key, I went through the entire house, poking and spying without disturbing anything. I found stationary, signature examples, account numbers, and other interesting information I pilfered and hid in the hobby room for some possible future use. There were a few locked cabinets in the master bedroom and elsewhere in the house, but I couldn’t find the keys to open them.

In the master bedroom, I discovered a list containing numbers and locations next to the intercom, and a code that said listen-only. Experimenting with the code and location numbers, I discovered PP could secretly listen to every room in the house where an intercom was installed. And now, so could I. I also noticed there was a blip of white noise when the listen-only mode was engaged – I had heard this blip before and realized PP had been listening to me in the hobby room.

I spied on PP and María via the intercom – it was devastating to listen to them talking and making love, but I couldn’t stop listening. Under PP´s influence, María described me as pathetic and useless as a lover. When PP fucked her, her moans and wails filled the intercom and twisted in my groin.

* * *

PP called me to his bedroom one morning to bring coffee while he power-fucked María. Her face was hidden in the pillows, her breasts bobbed under her as he pounded her, and PP taunted me by saying this was how a real man fucks another man’s wife. As PP fucked her from behind, he raised his hand from her hip – the indent of his fingers remained as if custom-carved into her hip, and he twisted his body so I could watch his penis working her vagina. He stroked her back along the spinal column, raising goose-bumps, and her back and derriere rose as he stroked. I watched mesmerized. Then María sneezed at the wrong moment and his penis popped out – the spell was broken and I looked away. That’s when I noticed the monitor flicker from a crack in the closet door.

When they left the house, I returned to the bedroom and discovered four closed-circuit monitors that flipped between rooms in the house and around the house exterior. A fifth monitor looped, displaying a recorded scene of an unknown man anus-fucking another naked man in the hobby room, anus-fucking me! My flaccid, broken penis flopped from side-to-side as he pounded my anus, otherwise, I was passively enduring the pounding. As I watched, I realized this was not sex, neither for him nor for me. It was simple humiliation of a hated gringo capitalistic pig, nothing more than masturbation with my anus. This video must have given PP hours of pleasure. They were likely watching it in the morning – I wondered if María enjoyed watching my humiliation. I flipped through a stack of DVDs with dates and names and wondered if PP was more interested in filming the men fucking me than in me.

Then I wondered where the camera was located. Returning to the hobby room, I determined the only possible location for the camera was the smoke detector on the ceiling. Now I knew PP could watch and record me, and listen to me whenever he desired. I returned to the monitor to examine what areas of my room were within view of the camera and saw there was a large blind spot behind and to the door side of the camera where the intercom cabinet was located. I reasoned if I spent time or did activities in the blind spots, PP might suspect I had discovered the camera.

On the back side of the smoke alarm, a faint red LED would flash regularly but would periodically stay red for variable time periods. I realized when the LED was lit, the camera was on. Now I knew when PP was watching me, primarily when the men fucked me, and I pondered how I could defeat his surveillance. I also understood the purpose of the high bed frame – it was a good height for a fucking platform for filming.

* * *

I decided to take the exact opposite approach – whenever his male visitors would visit to anus- or mouth-fuck me, I positioned myself to give the camera the most explicit view. I tried it out that very night with a large party of academics from Guatemala City. I even faked passion and orgasms for the camera. And I hoped María would be watching to see what I had made of my life – to free her, to please her.

The men that fucked me seemed to enjoy my new active role, and I starting performing for the camera. At subsequent parties, I lay on my back and had them fuck me missionary style, while I humped my anus into their penises. Some of the men leaned forward to kiss my growing breasts. And they no longer fucked a passive mouth, but rather I performed complete testicle and penis sucks with great flourishes for the camera. Some men wanted to dim the lights but I insisted on keeping adequate light for the camera.

I put a basket of condoms and lubricant next to my bed. I kept the basket full, overflowing, as my tacit acknowledgment of their right to plunge their penises into my body. On party days, I arranged the strips of condom packages, punctuated with lubricant tubes and bottles of different colors, flavors and smells, into cute designs, scattered around the hobby room. Sometimes the children would carry off the colorful condoms – I wondered what their parents thought.

As I lay on my back to be fucked missionary style, I could see the faint red reflection on the wall that indicated PP was recording the event. I had an ulterior motive for performing for the camera – I hoped PP would be attracted by my energetic fucking to come and make love to me in the missionary position, to kiss my nipples, to be my lover, but he never came. He never even came just to talk, only to cajole. Every sexual session with PP began with affirmations of my uselessness and ‘joto‘-ness, then proceeded to tell me what he wanted me to do.

My new attitude caused several unexpected side effects: the number of single men increased at the parties. Whereas before I had 2-3 male visitors in a night (and the occasional woman), now 5-6 was a common number, and I had to switch over from anus-fucks to penis sucking halfway through the evening as my anus became sore. And I reasoned I could increase my testosterone by sucking more semen and reduce the wear-and-tear on my anus by ejaculating the men by mouth. I still was expected to perform the penis-eating-snake trick at least once during each party.

I also noticed some of these single men had been at previous parties with their wives. As they fucked me, doubly betraying their wives, I suspected these leftist elites harbored a lot of latent homosexual men, married and single, and wondered if their sexual confusion reflected the same moral confusion as their leftist philosophies. Men also started visiting the house outside of the parties, always when María wasn’t there, and they always came in to fuck me. The maid showed them in, and her once indifference to me now became undisguised contempt. I don’t know how the men knew María was absent, maybe they coordinated with PP. I was whored out again, no doubt the bitch most often fucked in Antigua.

During the parties, the men put a ‘do not disturb sign’ on the door when they came in – I never knew this until I discovered the sign hidden in a vase. I was willing to be observed and group-fucked in any case. I hid the sign and over time, my fucking sessions were observed by men and women, but I was never group-fucked.

Some of the men cursed the gringo capitalist pig, others fiercely squeezed my genitals in the moment of passion, as if to belatedly participate in and derive status from my castration. They sometimes peeled their condoms off and threw them on my back.

* * *

Regardless of the quantity of semen I swallowed, my body became rounder with softer curves, feminized from the lack of hormones. My breasts increased to almost a full A-cup size, although my nipples stayed small. PP’s doctor recommended against hormone replacement therapy, citing cancer risk. I enjoyed the small breasts but didn’t want to get so big as to need a bra, so I insisted, and the doctor gave me another pill that contained an additional dosage of testosterone. It didn’t help – my body continued to feminize, my body hair thinned out, and my breasts continued to grow.

Even more unexpected to my new attitude was PP’s reaction – he appeared more often in my room to reward me with penis/testicle sucks, although I could tell he was enjoying what I did to him more than ever. I worshiped his penis; I loved him for his penis and I wanted him to love me. I did my best to give him the best penis suck possible and was in heaven when he rewarded me with his semen. He rarely wanted to anus-fuck me, only when he wanted something special from me. And he never visited me while María was in the house. I also noticed his frequency and intensity of sex with María increased, and I spent many nights listening to their noisy sexual dance on the intercom. María also worshiped his penis and was shameless in begging PP for more, as she never had with me.

Most unexpected of all was my reaction – pretending I enjoyed fucking these men turned into actual enjoyment. Exposed explicitly to the camera, I tried hard to please them and in turn, they pleased me. But it wasn’t until I actually climaxed as an energetic young med-school student fucked me missionary style while sucking my A-cup nipples that I realized I had crossed-over into homosexuality. I wanted these men to anus-fuck me, to fondle and kiss my breasts, even to squeeze my broken penis and fake testicles. PP was right – I had become his ‘puto, joto, perra guycito!’ Although my passion for María’s body never diminished, I rarely saw her except when she was being fucked by PP to humiliate and torment me.

I began to fantasize about sex with PP and with these other men, the thought of sex with women gradually faded from my mind. I was ‘joto‘, a queer, eager to enjoy any type of sex with men. The only homosexual act I couldn’t tolerate was mouth kissing, not even for PP. And I ejaculated frequently – kissing my A-cup nipples was a guaranteed ejaculation. I didn’t try to hide my climaxes from the camera, I was proud of them, although I realized my climaxes confirmed me as the bitch of these men and gave them power over me as I craved them to fuck me. And it also distracted me away from my goal of pleasing María. In fact, any noble purpose I ever had was lost as I became just another old queer.

I fucked the men for fun, for sheer sex fun. I was a cheap whore, the cheapest – free. Some of the men came to me drunk or drugged, ashamed of their ethical and moral depravity. I thought their collectivism ate at their conscience, and they compensated by fucking and abusing the gringo. Some would undress to fuck me, strutting their erect penises before plunging them into me. Most men only dropped their pants for the quickest possible fuck.

Each of these men was unique in their approach and treatment of me. Some were stiff and clumsy as if I were their first homosexual experience, and others were quite practiced. I prided myself to think all the men learned quickly with me.

Some of the men left me money; others folded money around their calling cards, their private cell numbers written on the back. I received requests to go with these men elsewhere but always refused. One older, distinguished professor of medicine was the first man to suck my penis at the parties, and I rewarded him with a feeble ejaculation. He must have liked the taste – this Prof gave me a cell phone with his number pre-programmed into the auto-dial button.

I realized I could control the pace and intensity of their climaxes by varying the force with which I humped my anus over their penises, or the timing of contracting my anus around their penises, or how I caressed their penises with my mouth.

In the moments of their orgasms, some of these men professed to love me. I reflected back to the stories of slave women being raped by their owners, eventually becoming a freed, open mistress or wife.

It was easy to manipulate some of the men and I asked them for small gifts and favors. I finally realized the power of the Female and that magical orifice, the vagina. I had breasts, a rounded body, an orifice between my legs these men loved. As PP had foretold, I had become a woman, and I felt powerful as a woman. Now the stories of women fucking their way to the top of penis power structures made perfect sense. The vagina must be the world’s strongest force.

By controlling them sexually in the moment, I converted their assault, rape, and humiliation of me into sex and humiliation. I never gave up the humiliation. I loved it and I encouraged them to say degrading comments about me and to fuck me roughly. I purposely throated and gagged on their penises, asking them to grab my head and mouth-fuck me deeply, and I convulsed for the camera. PP must have been proud to watch me do this, and I sure he had María watch with him. I didn’t care, in fact, I became proud my debasement would free María of me, to be exclusively attached to the man she loved, to please her.

I thought I was totally in control of the men until I heard myself begging one man to fuck me. He was particularly adept at exciting me by caressing his penis around my face, kissing my neck and ears and face, caressing my body, kissing my nipples, humiliating comments, and his technique of stroking my anus – I would lose myself in him until I ejaculated. As he kissed my ears, neck, and face, the longing for María’s deep kisses would overwhelm me and I craved to be kissed. The man sensed this and at the moment of my desperation, he put his penis head on my lips and I would kiss it imagining María’s lips, tongue, and mouth. If it’s possible to French-kiss a penis head, I did it. I began to understand also the general power of the penis over women (and men). The specific power of PP’s penis I understood all too well.

I didn’t mind their leftist comments, they were naive and ignorant, but they excited the men. The comments insulting my manhood excited me – I lapped up the humiliation.

My ejaculations weren’t pretty or exciting – only the lower stub of my penis became engorged when I was aroused. The two upper sections were flaccid and crookedly limp. I couldn’t shoot semen – the best I could do was to dribble semen through my broken penis, and it was always on display.

* * *

Of course, PP filmed all my sexual encounters with these academics. They would be shocked to know PP recorded them, and I wondered if PP had ulterior motives for filming them. And I wondered what María thought as she watched me perform as an enthusiastic homosexual.

In the house, PP and María had few secrets from me, I could hear their normal conversation over the intercom, but intimate whispers were inaudible. I listened to the daily hum-drum of their lives, the small talk I had once had with María, and the shared ordinariness of everyday living tore at my soul. I missed those moments with her. I heard María complaining to PP about the parties. She loved parties where she could dance and exhibit her body. She was always the star when dancing. But María disliked the men’s visits to the hobby room where the activity was homosexual sex, not strong men vanquishing the weak. Perhaps some leftover Catholic baggage. After her complaints to PP, the frequency of the parties diminished.

Furthermore, María didn’t sympathize with the politics of the university elites PP had chosen to humiliate me. Ever since her experience with the politicians in California, María detested the lefties, especially the feminists screeching about equality – why did they want to be like everyone else when they have the liberty of everything? Why should she be limited to being like everyone else? She didn’t want equality, she wanted liberty to be and do whatever she could. When the feminists said the government should give women the right to whatever, she said she didn’t need government permission to do that or anything else. And whatever permission they can give, they can take away. It wasn’t a right, just a politically expedient permission, usually another corruption of vote buying.

* * *

Single men continued visiting the house often, always when María wasn’t present. If PP wasn’t there, the maid brought them in to me. I thought it was strange they came regularly, almost as if I had fixed visiting hours. It didn’t make sense.

After a particularly rough session, the man commented he had gotten what he paid for as he pulled several small bills from his wallet and dropped them into my bedside basket, saying I deserved a tip. A tip…

The pieces fell into place – PP was pimping me. That’s why the visits came on schedule, María was absent and the maid was present. PP had converted me into a prostitute, and I hadn’t realized it. He had defeated me completely, had fulfilled every threat he had made to me.

I received another visitor that day, the older distinguished Prof that had given me a cell phone weeks before and was still a frequent visitor. In his weakest moments preceding his ejaculation, I asked him how much he had paid PP. My ego dropped lower than my missing testicles when I heard what a cheap prostitute I was – it was little wonder I was popular. Furious at myself, I plowed into the Prof, humping my anus into his penis, manhandling him, teasing his neck and face with rough kisses, until he exploded in climax – I wanted him to get his pittance payment worth out of me, and I could see the camera was on. As he lay next to me panting, he renewed his offer to take me to Guatemala City to make me his lover, and I conceded I’d consider it.

I sent PP a note through the maid asking him if he was pimping me. He didn’t answer but the visits from these men stopped. If María found out he was pimping me to homosexuals, she would leave him. I was mainly upset PP had kept the money he sold me for, symbolic as it was. I wondered what else he could do to me. Hook me on heroin? Kill me with an overdose? Drive me to suicide?

After calming down, I couldn’t figure out why I had any particular objection to PP pimping my body. I had pledged myself to him, and I regretted sending the note. Except for the occasional appearance of the maid, I lost all human contact. The maid despised me and refused to look or talk with me. I couldn’t easily leave the house – I was a freak outside, subject to taunting and violence. I missed the visits from the men, and I realized I was hooked on sex with them. Day after day, I paced around the room, watched homosexual porn on the Internet, played with the small animals, and became bored to the point of considering suicide.

I began to play with Hilda, letting her slide around my arms, neck, and legs, enjoying even this touch of another live animal. She seemed to remember me – I’d put my hand inside her box and she’d wind herself around my arm. On the third or fourth day of playing with her, she must have seen my penis jiggle just right as she struck the penis head unexpectedly, and started swallowing. I liked it, and I let her swallow my penis entirely as I stroked her body with my fingertips. Thereafter, it became a daily ritual – I let her crawl over my body until she found my penis and swallowed it. I’d lay back, aroused by her tugging, and I mentally transformed the small bites and burning sensation into the ecstasy of the ejaculation I craved.

PP must have watched my sessions with Hilda and thought I was ready for the next step in his plan for me. He brought me a new toy, a thin wire about 2 feet long with wood handles on both ends. He sat in front of me, wrapped the wire twice around my penis, and pulled it snug. Just another twitch of his hands and my broken penis would lop off onto the floor. He unwrapped it, wrapped it again around my entire genitals, snugged it tight, then a little more. The wire cut into my skin and I bled a few drops. He said, “You see how it works? Take the handles.” I did, and I waited for his command. He said, “You know what to do. The next time you’re bored, you can play with this.” And he left me standing there with the means to end my sexual misery forever. María had forbidden him to hurt me, but I could certainly do it myself. But I wasn’t bored, wasn’t ready yet. Something was missing. Pain. There was no pain – I needed pain.

End of book content.

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