Mistress Ishtar

by Zaku Eins

1. And So My Troubles Began

It had been about three months since I was brought here.

This was a guess, of course. I KNEW, for certian, that I was here for

six weeks. The limestone walls took the improvised scraping tool I

made just well enought to scribe lines in the wall. The lines were

showing 42 days, and the sun was setting on another day. 43 days here.

The rest was guess work. I found needle tracks all over my body,

evidence that someone had professionally inserted IVs into me. One of

my girlfriends was diabetic, and she told me everything about insulin

injections, and my memory dredged up that memory of how long a certain

location could take needles before switching. My arms and legs were

covered with tracks, but not my thighs or armpits. I was here for a

month and a half, a month and a half that I was aware of only in pain

and the odd floating feeling of tranquilizers.

For six weeks, I had gotten used to three facts.

The first one was that, to the outside world, I was dead. They told

me, though my door, that my previous life was dead--I had no real

family, and my life was gone when they faked a head-on car crash that

caused both cars to burst into flames. They had swapped my dental

records with the dead man's body, so I was pronounced dead.

The second was that I was here because Ishtar-no, I should say it

right, if only for posterity- Her Goddess' Mistress, The Lady Ishtar;

had read an article I had written in the college newspaper. She liked

it so much, they said, that they had "recruited" me.

And the third part was the 36DD breasts hanging from the front of my

chest.

And the firm, yet full ass that peeked out from my behind.

And the fact that, except for my eyebrows, eyelashes, and the hair on

my head, I was as smooth as a newborn baby.

All of this pailed, however, in comparison to the always wet, seemingly

sopping cunt that dripped between my well-turned legs.

It had been fifty-eight recorded days, God-knows how long really,

before I was told that Her Goddess' Mistress, The Lady Ishtar, was

granting me, Her Lowly Slut, a audience. In my prison cell. I was

told how to deport myself, and how to speak to her, not to look at her

directly, how to follow every order she gave. And to get cleaned up.

Cleaning up was easy. They had left me, in my cell, a comb, a brush,

soap, and shampoo. Towels as well. I took a shower, combed and

brushed my hair, and put on my clothing....

No, it wasn't "clothing", it was the barest minimum to avoid being

naked. A simple nylon codpiece with a plastic core with what could

only be a dildio, that fit over my hips. A demi-bra that only held up

my considerable assets. A hair ribbon for my already uncontrollable

reddish brown hair. And that was it.

Three knocks on my door, then the voice said, "Remember, Slut, you turn

to face the window until The Lady Ishtar tells you to turn around. I

won' t have you disappoint me!

"I hope not," I said, my voice putting it in a low-enough venom, but

still sounding like a playful come-on. The voice of a temptress, I had

been told, I was given.

"Good," the voice ended, and I turned to face the window. The door

opened, then it closed. "Turn around," a female voice, curious and

soft, replied.

I turned around on my knees, looking at The Lady Ishtar's boots. They

were leather opera pumps with heels that seemed to go forever and ever.

"I am The Lady Ishtar. And you must be the Slut?"

"I am, Your Holiness," I replied, carefully allowing myself the

privelage of looking up slightly.

She had VERY long legs.

"Good," The Lady Ishtar replied. Then her tone suddenly became casual,

friendly. "Your head must have been filled with many things-how to

act, how to kneel, how to sit before me. Don't think about that now.

For now, and if you are lucky, the future, simple casualness with

suffice. I am Ishtar, you are the Slut. I won't call you by your

previous name, after all," she laughed, tossling some of my hair, "with

your body, that name hardly fits!"

There was a sound of something sliding across the floor, then a soft

creak. "You may look at me now, Slut," The Lady Ishtar said.

I looked up, and saw what could only be the most beautiful woman I had

ever seen in my entire life. She was about my new height(I assumed

about 5' 9"), and was just plumped out enough to have mass to her

bones. No beanpole here! Her breasts were just as large as mine,

amply emphasized by the black demibra and overalls she wore. Under the

overalls was a green satin blouse that extended to her elbows. Her

hip-length, fire-red hair was tied in a French braid, tossed almost

casually over her right shoulder. She had the face of an angel, with a

brilliant white smile. "I take it, you like what you see?" Ishtar

said, smiling.

"Yes, I do, Your Holiness...." I was about to go through the entire

devotional until she put the buisness end of a rhino-hide whip under my

chin. "I said, this is informal. Sit more comfortably, and we shall

talk," Ishtar replied, then let the whip fall.

I moved to sit Indian-style rather than with my legs under my body, and

got as comfortable as one could on limestone. "Let us start," Ishtar

said, "First of all, there is your recruitment."

"My abduction, ma'am," I replied.

She looked, and her face softened. "For now, to you, it is an

abduction. But you will understand, later, what this means for you.

You wrote a story, an editorial, as a matter of fact, about the Women's

Movement. You're words, I belived, was that you felt it was taken over

by lesbians and controlled by women who felt that men should be

exterminated like rats."

"I have never regreted those words," I said. "No matter where they

lead me."

"Eh?" Her face became bemused, for a moment. Then she smiled. "No,

this isn't you're punishment for telling lesbians off. In fact, I

praise you! You have guts, pluck, and a eye for the truth. That, I

can respect. And, besides," she giggled, "you're right. The Feminist

movement has been taken over by Feminazis, as Rush Limbaugh will call

it. They want to kill men off. I don't. Like it or not, they're

here."

"So, why am I here?" I asked.

"Because of all your traits. You're smart, sensitive, and a sense of

timing that's hard to miss. A lovely man, to say the least. I would

have loved to have you, but I couldn't. Even as a friend, your cock

would have gotten in the way. You would have wanted to fuck me one

day, no matter how hard you tried to not think about it, and you would

have succeeded, I assure you! So, I made you into something that we

can both enjoy," Ishtar said.

"You turned me into a woman! Without my permission, without asking my

wishes!"

"I've known you, Slut. I stuided your records, in great detail. You

were never really a man. Not by the standards of society. No wonder

women hated you. You were one of them, and they feared something like

that. I wanted you, and if I couldn't have you as a man, I would have

you as a Emulator," Ishtar replied, shaking her head.

"Huh?" I asked, curious.

"I'm very, very rich. So much so, that I can sponsor all sorts of

engineering and chemestry projects. I had you sculpted in flesh, using

techniques that my company has developed. You were made, Slut, into

the woman you always wanted to be. With a few small modifications, of

course. I had given you a voice that is seductive and as smooth as

slik. With the proper treatments, you'll live for centuries-and never

lose that perfect face. You're a woman in all respects of the word,

Slut. You can even bear children, and even choose the sex," Ishtar

said.

"I made you for two reasons. The first was for me-I wanted your mind

so much. The second was to save the world. Male rulership has lasted

too long-but matriarchy is impractical either. So that's what you're

for. As an Emulator, you have lived as a man, but are now a woman, for

the rest of your days. You know, and have been a part of, both sides

of the sexual equasion."

"So, you want to emulate Engles and bring back a matriarchy, but a

matriarcy of sex-changed women," I said, sneering.

"No," Ishtar said, "I want Emulators. Men who were once women and

women who were once men. My name is that, Slut. You know what it is."

"Ishtar," I said, "is the Babylonian goddess of Love and War. So, you

want a war, and you want to turn humans into Emulators."

"I want to turn those who should rule into Emulators-that is my war.

And I shall give all the love I can to my soldiers. My Slut, you shall

know that love," Ishtar said. "You will know just how loving I can

be."

I don't know what happened, really. One of my teachers said I took

"easy offense agianst rightiousness." And she was here, preaching a

gospel that sounded like geocide.

So I slapped her.

Hard, with just enough english to leave a killer welt on the side of

her face. By the time I realized what I had done, it was too late. I

had heard, from my mysterious keepers, that Ishtar had once ordered a

disobedient Slut's veins opened and the blood to just drain from her

body.

But, as she turned her face around, the angry grimace turned into a

smile. Then she laughed, a loud, racotious rumble that filled the

room. "Perfect! You're still fighting! You still have spirit!

You'll be PERFECT. Good day, Slut, and we shall meet again," Ishtar

said, smiling. Then she walked out, still smiling with a swagger in

her step.

It was the next morning, when I woke up from what could only be a

drug-induced sleep with my arms and legs tightly chained to the floor,

with my ass on fire. Two IV's were in my arms-intravenous feeding. I

turned my head, to see a large-type note on my side.

"Slut,

"Don't take this personally, but I started on stretching your

anus. Normally, I'd go for the larger sizes, but I'm

starting out small. For your sake. In a few weeks, I'll

even add a vibrator, to just make your life more pleasant.

By the end of three months, you'll be in perfect shape to

start your REAL training.

"-Ishtar"

I let my head loll to look at the celing. The Universe, I thought,

really decided to have it in for me.

2. And So My Troubles Resulted In Punishment

I learned, the hard way, why butt plugs were considers such great

"pacifcation" tools.

I spent ten days, chained down, with steadily larger butt plugs

inserted into my anus. I didn't even know when they changed the plug

-- they had a tranqlizer IV parallel to the food IV, and they knocked

me out before they put in the new one. Two of them even had vibrators

built in, and it made the pain so much more unbearable-not because it

hurt, mind you, but because it generated so much pleasure and I wanted

to get off so damn bad.

On the eleventh day, I woke up unchained and released from my bonds

with a breakfast in front of me, and a butt plug still resting in my

ass. I pulled it out, and it was as wide, I estimate, as a D battery.

It was ringed and desinged that it could only be removed delibratly. I

swore softly, and tossed the thing across the room. Never to see that

thing again!

Breakfast was simple-cereal, toast, and lots of orange juice, and I ate

it ravenously. Thirty minutes after eating breakfast, I put the butt

plug back in.

I put it back in because fifteen minutes after eating breakfast, by the

time I felt that I needed to go to the bathroom, I already had -- I was

sitting in a pile of my own shit. The plug had been in long enough to

lose control of my bowels. I swore loudly, then put the plug back in.

I swore, as soon as I could find something to cut the plug, I would

trim it smaller, if only to get my bowels back into shape.

I spent two more days, trying to find something that could cut the very

hard rubber of the butt plug, when I fell asleep in a too-sound sleep

that night.

I woke up to a sore chest and nipples. From the insertion scar, at

least, I had breast implants, and they boosted my chest size to a 40DD.

And on the end of the nipples were a single, sliver ring. In the

afternoon, I was told to prepare to see Mistress Ishtar again.

This time, she just came in, closed the door, threw a blindfold over

me, and said, "Put your hands behind you." I did so, and handcuffs

latched tightly, but comfortably, around my wrists. "Now, what shall

we do with you?"

"I can have you killed-but that would be such a waste of good material.

And I don't waste, slut. So, in my magnaomy," Ishtar said, to my ear,

"I am going to have you punished. Stand up!"

I was dragged rudely to my feet, and I could feel the cold limestone

under my feet. "Listen to me. You will be lashed fifteen times on

your back by a bamboo cane. You will be restrained to a whipping post,

and you will count out your punishment. Miss even once, and the

process will start over again.

"But," Ishtar said, in what could only be called a smiling tone, "Your

Emulator body will heal so fast, by tomorrow, you won't even have red

spots. And, then, you'll be properly trained."

She rudely yanked my body along the hallway, down for about a couple of

hundred yards. As I stopped, you could almost hear the hushed silence.

Then, without a word, my arms and legs were lashed to post, in such a

position that my back was open and unobstucted. I could feel something

being attached to the new nipple rings I had, and I waited silently.

"As is our custom," Mistress Ishtar said, in a voice that boomed in the

room. "We describe the reason for the punshment, as well as the

punishment itself. This lowly slut, in a fit of rage, struck the holy

personage of Her Goddess' Mistress, The Lady Ishtar. However, as the

slut does not know of our ways, the full punishment would be useless-an

insult to her because we failed to teach her properly, and a failure to

us because she did not listen properly.

"The normal punishment for strikeing the Holy Presence is fifty lashes

with a bamboo cane. However, due to her ignorance of our laws, the

punishment is communted to only fifteen lashes. Mistress-at-Arms, once

the slut is examined for any possiblity of harm, you may carry out the

sentance."

A cold stethascope was placed on my chest, then my pulse taken at two

places. As well, something was inserted into my cunt. "She can take

it. But I will require her to be watched-this is her first time," a

new voice said, male.

"Understood," Mistress Ishtar said. "Mistress-at-Arms, carry out the

sentance. Slut, you will call out each lash with the number and a

"Thank You, Mistress". Do you understand?"

"I understand, your Holiness," I said.

"Start!" Mistress Ishtar yelled. The next thing I knew, my back seemed

to explode! There was so much pain....and so much pleasure! Whatever

was insered in my cunt was vibrating like crazy. "One, Thank You,

Mistress!" I screamed.

The next one was sheer agony! I tried to move away, but I could feel

the pinpricks of needles on my breasts-sharp, I could almost feel the

blood- "Two, Thank You, Mistress."

And so it proceeded for fifteen lashes. When it was all over, and I

swear I didn't miss one-who'd want to repeat this?-I hung on the posts

for what seemed like an eternity, the vibrator wirring away like mad in

my cunt. I was about to explode-my back felt like it was about to fall

off and I was at that "point" where it would take a little more for me

to have an orgasm. I was crying and moaning slighly. With a POP! the

vibrator was yanked out of my ass, leaving me cold. "Return the slut

to her quarters. Leave her the usual items."

When I was returned to my cell, the blindfold was taken off and I was

rudly shoved in. In the room was a dildio that looked more like a

flashlight than a rubber cock and enough jelly to preform a prostate

exam on a boa constrictor.

I took up the dildio like a crazy woman-I must have brought myself to

orgasm at least three or four times, and eventually fell asleep with

the dildio inside me. When I woke up the next morning, I tossed the

dildio away and cried slightly. How low could I have gotten?

"Ah, there you are," a voice said, very sympatheic and reassuring. I

saw a woman there, looking to all the world like a doctor-Chinese with

her long black hair in two very tight braids that wrapped around her

head, wearing the outfit of a doctor, white coat and all. Her blue

eyes were like looking into crystalline pools, and I felt a wave of

lust come over me for her. "My name is Lillith. Mistress Ishtar has

assigned me to your A&FD," she said.

"Huh?" I asked. I looked like a mess, and felt even worse.

"Oh," Lillith said. "Do you want me to come back? I can wait, if you

want to do something...."

"Can I just get freshened up?" I asked.

"Go ahead," Lillith replied, and she left the cell long enough for me

to take a shower. As I was drying off, she came in with a duffel bag.

"Your clothing. For now, you'll wear this. When your A&FD assignment

is done, you'll be allowed to choose your own clothing."

I pulled the clothing out of the bag-jacket, blouse, skirt, bra,

panties, knee-high socks, tampon, and slippers. "What is A&FD?" I

asked.

"Acclimitisation and Feminine Deportment," Lillith replied. "'We turn

macho boys into sissy women,'" she said, as if saying a part of a joke.

"Not really, we just train all the MTF Emulators in properly deporting

themselves as female -- the world is a harsh place, and Mistress Ishtar

wants us to give out Emulators the best."

"I see," I replied.

"I told you my name," Lillith said. "What is yours?"

"I haven't been given one yet," I said. "Mistress Ishtar keeps on

calling me the slut."

"From now on," Lillith said, her voice tinged with anger, "You are not,

nor will you ever be a 'slut.' A slut can't control herself. You can.

A slut is a sexual animal. You are a professional. Do you

understand?"

"I do," I said.

"Well," Lillith said, "we can hold off on the name for now. When you

decide on one, you can tell me. For now, just call yourself 'Lillith

12', you're the twelth of my link-pair and," she held out a braclet,

"this is yours."

I put all the clothing on(oh the joys of actually being able to wear

clothing that could cover me up in the places I wanted to!) and put

the bracelet on my right hand. "So, now what?" I asked.

"Bachellorette quarters," Lillith said. "When you pass Basic, you'll

be able to meet the rest of your link-pair. Come on," and we left the

cell.

The cell block was long, and evidently people wern't liking their

captivity as much as others-you could hear the yelling and the pleading

from some of the cells. A few were banging on them. "Come along,"

Lillith said, leading me up two flights of empty stairs to a door with

the name LILLITH 12 written on paper tape. "Make yourself

comfortable," and Lillith left me in there.

A bed with a comforter and sheets. A mirroed vanity with plenty of

drawers. I checked, and they were filled with underwear, bras, and

makeup. The small, walk-in closet had seven more uniforms like mine,

and two night gowns. The bathroom had a shower, and plenty of shampoo

and soap. I sat down, to see a note. In a casual scrawl, I read,

"Lillith 12,

"Today starts something very important. Tomorrow, you will

learn the basics of feminine deportment. As your teacher, I

will expect you on your best behavior, and your best learning

attitude avalable.

See you tomorrow.

"-Lillith."

I lay down on the bed. A curious thought came through my mind, and I

walked over to the mirror, and looked deeply in it.

The face that looked back was one that belonged to a supermodel or a

queen-not some geeky college boy. I looked into the forest-green eyes,

softly looking back, and said, "This is going to be one of those days,

isn't it?"

[END EPISODE 2]

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