Third time the charm.

In abject desire you say “yes,”. There is an electric jolt from her right breast into your chest and your heart thuds in your chest.

“Then our pact is sealed,” she smiles naughtily as she lowers herself and you slide snuggly into her hot moist folds. “The master becomes the slave, the slave the master,” she coos. Her heavy lidded eyes flutter almost closed, her high paled mass of hair rocking gently with her movements. You wish you could reach up and caress her gently swaying breasts, but the bindings on your wrists are tightly tied. You watch her pendulous boobs then stare the skin about the right nipple, realizing that her tattoo is no longer there.

“Your tattoo mistress?” you say, then wonder why you call her mistress.

“Is now your tattoo my sweet,” she says wickedly.

You feel a weird blurring of reality and there is a weird sensation on your flesh, as of the cold links of chains slidding across it. The body atop you seems to become heavier, more muscular, slim hipped and masculine. Simultaneously your body feels like it is diminishing, crushed by the encirlcing forces of the chains. You look down at your chest in worry and see that Ulima’s tattoo now sits upon your right pectoral, however the corded musculature of your chest is no longer so well defined. As you watch the tattoo moves, as though there were real chains binding and constricting your flesh.

Before your eyes your muscular torso continues to shrink and flow, becoming slim and lightly toned, the penta. As you stare the flesh stretches weirdly and balloons into two large jutting breasts, the nipples enlarging and becoming more pronounced. You can feel their weight and it feels almost natural. You feel your pelvis grow warm as the bones widen and re-knit. There is a weird moment as you feel yourself slip from within Ulima, but the void that grows between your legs does not remain empty as you feel what must be Ulima’s manhood penetrating you. Ulima remains atop you, but she is no longer herself. Her features resemble another man with every passing moment!

“The part of my tale I neglected to tell you was that I was once a free man, cursed by that tattoo to wear the form of a woman! Do you like your new body my slave? Perhaps you too shall desire to be stripped naked and paraded like chattel in the square. Perhaps I shall buy you!” The man that was once Ulima says. You suddenly recognize him as Al Bi Da, a wealthy player that you had assumed left the game some time ago.

He moves within you and you are powerless to resist. In fact it feels so good you don’t know if you could resist and you find yourself wrapping your legs about him. “Do not fear, you will find that you like your new form, and you shall come to enjoy the pleasures of slavery as I did, at least until you tie up a free man and have him agree to be your sex slave!”

You suddenly realize why Ulima had always wanted to tie you up – so she could swap with you. It must have driven her mad the way you always blocked her advances.

As Al fills your throbbing insides you gasp in passionate pleasure. He climbs up, stuffs some silken panties in your mouth to gag you and gathers your former clothes, quickly dressing. He wraps a turban around his face. He looks enough like you that no one will stop him from leaving. “Good luck explaining this to the chief Eunuch! I’m leaving this world with what little fortunes I have remaining! I’ll take your secret with me John.” And then he is off.

You lie there, tied to the bed, naked, sweaty and gagged. You feel foolish, but you also derive a perverse thrill from being tied naked to the bed. As the time ebbs by you begin to idly imagine what would happen if one of your half naked slave girls found you like this. What would they do if they discovered who you truly were? Perhaps they would take delight in your bondage, teasing you and making you their slave. You wonder if you would obey their commands. What if they would not let you dress, depriving you of all dignity, the lowest slave not even worthy of a slip of silk. You look up at the mirror suspended above your bed head and imagine five of your scantily clad slave girls toying with your new body. You begin to moisten between your velvety thighs at these strangely enticing thoughts.

Fortunately Salar, one of your harem Eunuch returns. This is fortunate for he was deprived of his gonads at a young age and as a consequence his form is delicate and girlish, much like his demeanor. You are almost envious that he is more of a man than you are, for despite his womanly hips and neutered physiology, small as it is he still has a manhood. Looking up at him you almost regret that he is castrated.

Taking pity on you he ungags you. “Are you alright miss?” he asks in his falsetto voice.