You bend to his will

He advances toward you as you lay giggling on the bed, and kneels on it in front of you. His hands grasp your hips and lift them as you arch back for him to feel your curves. He is strong, so much stronger than you, and irresistible. You want him very, very bad. You want him to turn you into an adult at last, and he knows it. His hands run on your body, he finds the knot holding your kimono's belt and pulls it. By a stroke of his hand, the silky fabric slides on your oiled skin, revealing you almost entirely. Your soft and unerectable penis lays in its thong, calm. Your desire is elsewhere. You know that the hormones and chemical castration that all Pleasureboys go through all their life develops their sexuality otherwise, making them ache for the strong embrace of Trumales. In fact, you have been told from the beginning of your teenage years how the three genders work, both Trumales and women enjoying themselves as always, and Pleasureboys working as a continuation of their social role, mostly there to be toys for Trumales, bound to take pleasure in pain, and by pleasuring other men.

Which is why, as he takes your G-string down from your hips, as you feel it tighten as it passes around your butt and down your legs, you feel your desire as an aching pain, somewhere between your hips, at the back of your spine, a need to be impaled on something, to have someone penetrate you, make you his entirely, someone to enjoy the tool for masculine pleasure you have slowly been becoming in these last months. And you crave this someone to be him. You know that this desire makes women wet, and you know wish you had the same capacity, for him to tell how much you need him.

Thankfully he knows already, as he expertly grabs your thighs, lifts your legs, and pulls you suddenly so that your ass comes slamming on his crotch. You can feel his strength as he pins you on the bed, as you can feel his considerable manhood rubbing between your butt cheeks. He wants you. He tells you that he wants you, and you barely manage to moan that you want him too, almost fainting from frustrated desire (another effect of your condition, completely planned for, being to constantly frustrate and therefore make even sluttier every Pleasureboy by essentially letting them have the hormones which make sexual desire so strong in the teenage years while essentially preventing them to actually enjoy it except by being with a Trumale). Almost from thin air, he takes out a small bottle of lubricant, but you hold his hand: "No, not like that," you whisper. "Good, good boy," he answers, and plunges in you.

At first you just feel the pressure between your gaping legs. And, quickly, an immense pain invades you, and you start panting, struggling even, as he breaks into you. This you knew to expect, but still comes as a surprise. He pins you down on the bed again, as if to impose you to be quiet. You obey, and he pushes further, your moans of pain almost encouraging him. He is making you his, and you want him to. Soon the pain fades away, and a new feeling comes. You are around him, he is in you. You feel every inch of his cock getting in you, as if your virginity was being peeled from you by this act. His hands on your hips, your legs on his shoulders, his shaft deeper inside you, you start feeling your craving both being answered to and grow at the same time, pleasure making you want more. You start moaning, out of pleasure this time, encouraging him. You put your hands around his waist, grab him, scratch him as he comes and goes between your thighs. And he gets encouraged. He accelerates, kisses you deep and firm, touches you all over.

At some point, he turns you around, and make you take a doggystyle position. You are now obedient, well tamed, as one could say, and do just as you are told. He comes in you again, deeper than before, and starts pounding again, getting more and more excited by the minute...