Bring Your Porno Fantasies to Life!

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VOTE MISTRESS

This Election Day, there can be only ONE choice:

VOTE MISTRESS

Mistress's opponent is for big business, industry pollution, shipping our jobs overseas, taking candy from children & kicking pregnant women.

MISTRESS is for spankings, corporal punishment, domination & humiliation, body worship & buffalo wings for all.

MISTRESS's opponent is a wall street insider commie fag homophobic warmongering soft on terrorism junkie who watches reality TV shows.

MISTRESS is for mom, apple pie, unabashed hedonism, freedom for all except those she enslaves, recreational drugs on demand.
And puppies.

MISTRESS's opponent kicks puppies. And small children.

MISTRESS's opponent shot a man in Reno just to watch him die. He steals from the give-a-penny/take-a-penny jar. And listens to Air Supply.

MISTRESS is for health care for all, raising the minimum wage/standards of living, really good ice cream & finding the perfect pair of shoes.

MISTRESS plans to safeguard our national defense by installing ninja pirate Chuck Norris giant robots on our borders.

MISTRESS's opponent can see Russia right outside the window. But lives in Jersey.

MISTRESS's opponent thinks 47% of the people are freeloaders who believe in socialist concepts like being entitled to silly things food, medicine, staying alive.

MISTRESS thinks 100% of the people would be happier if they just shut up and did whatever she commanded.

MISTRESS is for clean energy, saving the planet, getting massages and getting us all jetpacks & flying cars because its 2012 damnit and its LONG overdue.

MISTRESS's opponent wants us all to live like the Amish.

MISTRESS is for human rights and civil liberties. Unless you disobey her, in which case she is a staunch supporter of law & order.
And CBT.

MISTRESS's opponent wishes you all to be wage-slaves for the rest of your life without retirement. And eats babies. Raw.
Without ketchup.

MISTRESS is for well-deserved leisure time after her slave's hard labors.

Who here can forget Her stirring words, "Ask not what Mistress can do for you, ask what you can do for your Mistress!"

VOTE MISTRESS.

Or you'll be sorry.

You Don't Need a Weatherman to Know Which Way the Wind Blows

You Don't Need a Weatherman to Know Which Way the Wind Blows

I have a bit of a odd and kinky history that goes back a ways. I spent years searching for the right BDSM relationship--that long lonely search many male submissives undertake. My own journey seemed to be nothing but a long string of disappointments, one night stands, meeting and failing to click with people offline when it had seemed so promising online, or people who always seemed to have a story or a reason to avoid ever having to meet at all. The usual bs that comes with trying to meet people online.

Thank god I'm off of that bitter treadmill now.  Meeting Mistress on Alt Com and becoming Her owned slave has...saved me from all of that. Made it all worthwhile.

Anyway...the strangest kink adventure in my life...It was about six years ago, just before moving to Florida and meeting Mistress. I had been returning to my kinky quest after several years of giving up, doing the personal ad sites and such. I had kind of given up on the idea of finding "The One", you know, a woman who would be interested in me romantically as well as a submissive. I had just been burned too many times, and my living situation at the time would have made that impossible to find anyway. So I was looking for couples who were interested in playing with a sissy slave. The idea had always been one of my favorite fantasies, and I reasoned I might be a pretty good catch---I could be a totally nonthreatening, non-demanding addition to a polygamous relationship.  Both the Mistress and Master could feel safe that I would not upset or jeopardize their primary relationship in any way shape or form.

And that was what I looked for, and after while I began corresponding with this domme online.  She was intelligent, witty, great sense of humor--seemingly exactly my 'type'.  She was looking for a sissy slave to play with herself and her boyfriend.

There was a complication, however--isn't there always?  The boyfriend was married to someone else, so this was a relationship on the side. So everything had to be hush-hush.

She made arrangements to meet me, a few miles from my apartment at my favorite Irish bar. Always a bit noisy and crowded, we could talk about whatever we liked without being overheard.  She told me the BF might be able to join us, but this was really just a meeting between she and I so she could suss me out, see if we clicked, see if I could be trusted or not.

I remember seeing her and getting all excited....yes, she was exactly my type...that naughty but nerdy look, with glasses and a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Curves in all the right places, a bit overweight but not excessively so.

We talked pleasantly for probably a half hour or so. I'm sure I was shy and awkward--I always am when meeting someone. But apparently it wasn't a deal breaker because she told me that she liked me, that she saw some real possibility here. She was going to tell her BF that I was ok for him to meet and, surprise surprise, it was going to happen that very evening.

But first...could I keep a secret?

Of course, I said. You know my secrets...seen my pics...I'm trusting you with that stuff, you can trust me with yours.

She explained about her BF being married. That her relationship with him could not become public, that both she and him were known in their industry and so they had to really play it safe for their careers as well as his marriage.

What do you do then?  I ask.

She tells me she's a columnist in the local alternative weekly newspaper--I had read her column before actually, and enjoyed it many a time.  She tells me her BF is in the journalism field as well.

I'm really excited at this point. I tell her that's incredible, I'm in the same field (or trying to be) myself and I tell her who I work for and she recognizes it and she seems thoughtful for a second and tells me that she and he BF could really help me out in my career, that they had the contacts and connections to help get me to a better place.

This is seriously a dream come true at this point. My head was swimming, I'm telling myself to try to not let my hopes get up so high but at this point I'm thinking I might just have won the lottery in my kinky relationship quest and this is going to change my entire life for the better.

She gets a text and tells me her BF is about to arrive. "My boyfriend...you might recognize him. But please don't say anything."

I assure her I won't.

And then he comes in, and sits next to her with a big, familiar smile. Holy shit. I DO know this guy.  Its the weatherman from Channel X.

And at this point I need to interject here: I'm not going to say what TV channel, or even what city he's from. While on the one hand I do not owe him or her anything now, a promise is still a promise. And he's still on the air, every weeknight at 6 and 11.

They hug and exchange secret smiles to each other and he asks her if I'm a good candidate to play with them. She tells him that I am, and she is really looking forward to playing with us both.  There's no time like the present, he says. He only has a little bit before having to go back to the station to get ready for the 11 o'clock newscast. She grins at that, and orders me to get up and follow them outside to the parking lot.

I'm utterly utterly gobsmacked at this point, but I obey.  Holy fuck.

We get inside his SUV towards the back of the parking lot, he gets in the backseat, I'm ordered to kneel on the floor next to him, she sits up front but within reaching distance of both him and I.

Kiss his crotch, she says. Meet your new Master.

I'm all gooey and submissive and feeling myself fall deep for both of them at this point...I'm not wearing a stitch of female clothes on me but my inner slavegirl just comes out and I just mellllt and soon enough I'm obediently unbuckling his pants and kissing and sucking his cock while her hands are in my hair forcing me on it while the two of them are kissing and holy shit i'm in a suv out in public in a parking lot and i'm sucking the cock of the weather guy from channel x!!!!

Flashing in my mind at this utterly bizarre and absurd moment was a quote from "Saving Private Ryan", of all things.

"Sergeant, we have crossed some strange boundary here. The world has taken a turn for the surreal.."  

Now..I know TV weathermen, news anchors and so forth are not A or even B-level celebrities.  They are C-level at best, known only at a local level and that to anyone outside of the broadcast area Mr. WeatherDom's real name would be meaningless. I'm still not going to reveal the name but I think you as the reader here of my sordid little tale, to best appreciate the topsy turvy state of mind I was in should try to imagine yourself in a parked car having carnal relations with your local celebrity weatherman within 15 minutes of meeting said celebrity after seeing the guy on TV for years telling you your day is going to be partly cloudy and mild.

Back to the scene....its so hot...one of the hottest experiences I've ever had...  She plays with herself as they kiss, as her hands guide me on his cock...he cums in my mouth and I'm in such a state of shock it doesn't dawn on me til later that this too, is another first in my life and I was too far gone to even gag on it.

Everyone rests a few minutes....then he zips up, tells she and I how great that was, have to do it again soon and he's off to the station for his broadcast. She makes her goodbye as well, tells me how thrilled she was at my obedience and that we would be getting together again real soon.

I drive home, dazed, laughing out loud at the absurdity of it as well as the sheer delight of it! And I turn on Channel X's 11 o'clock news with his taste still on my lips and watch WeatherDom doing the 5-Day with that smile and and not a hint in his delivery that he had just had a sordid 3-way with his gf and their new male slave not more than 2 hours ago. 

Life has taken a turn for the surreal. Yes indeedy.

I had one more encounter with them, not long after. Another really hot scene, where she had fully femmed me in my apartment and he had arrived and I got to serve them both en femme, this time fluffing him ready before he fucked her on my bed and getting to orally worship her to several orgasms after he had gone.

Things seemed perfect. She and I continued to talk online, on the phone, I felt as if things were only going to get better and better.

And one day, out of the blue, she just...stopped writing me back.  Not even a goodbye or an explanation.

I was crushed.  I agonized over what I might have done or said to have caused this. Did I say something wrong? Worse...did he find me so unappealing and ugly en femme that he had told her to break it off with me?

Its only now, years later that I can objectively add another possibility to what happened--that their relationship as BF-GF was broken off, or put on the shelf for a while because of his marriage and that I really wasn't rejected at all.  Still...if that was the case...they should have told me. :(

In a way, maybe things happen for a reason after all. It was the heartbreak over this apparently-perfect kink-and-professional relationship going belly up without explanation that was the impetus behind my decision to say fuck it, my life in this city isnt going anywhere, my career will never advance here and I will never meet anyone, why not just up and move to Florida where I can at least be warm year round and goto the beach.

And so I did. Moved down in 2007 and in December of 2008 I met Mistress. :)

And she has made me Hers. And loves me, has kept me. Has shown no sign at all of wanting to ever let me go or just disappear on me as so many others have in my life.  No, my career has never taken off and has even gotten worse than it did before and I've barely got two nickels to rub together but...with Mistress, none of that really matters.  I'm happy, the happiest I have ever been.

I am the owned slave of Lady Erisiana Cherie. And I am content.

Why "Forced Bi"?

My sexuality has evolved over the years. I've examined and reexamined my psyche to figure out what makes me tick because I like to know the why's of things.

I'm comfortable enough now to admit I have a bi-side...but...it has to be in context. Just looking at a guy doesn't do anything for me (although pretty sissies and shemales most definitely does!) but if I am feminized and submissive and under control, ie being 'forced' to do so I squirm and ache and yearn for it with all of my sissy heart.

The outside and cynical observer will and has claimed that 'forced bi', like 'forced fem', is just an excuse the submissive male needs to act out bi or gay tendencies to alleviate any guilt or shame the male may feel from those tendencies. A way for the psyche to rationalize what he is doing. And for some male subs, for all I know that may even be the case. But I think its wrong to generalize and thereby dismiss fetish people like this: put them all in some pat and easy to understand box. I think reality is a lot more complex than this.

I can't speak for all subs, but I can speak for myself, and I know its nowhere near that simple. My sexuality...my submissiveness, my forced fem desires, my forced bi, they all derive from a deep need to be wanted. Loved. Secure. If someone goes to all of that trouble to keep me (feminize, dominate, enslave) and not let me go, they must REALLY really want me. And my inner self feels warm and safe and loved.

Everything else--the dressing, the rituals, the protocols etc etc are just externalizations of that deep basic human need. The means to an end.

When I was a child my mind made the equation that being kept in female clothes was just like bondage. Put me in a dress, take my male clothes away, and I'm helpless to run away, I'm trapped. As I grew older these sexual thoughts evolved, almost like a natural progression. Being dressed up was only one layer of mental bondage...being forced to act the part of female, to pretend my male side did not even exist was another. To surrender my sexuality, be taken with a strap-on dildo was another.

To be forced to submit to a real man...only the next logical step. How far down the rabbit hole can I go, how many more mental chains can be wrapped around me to increase those feelings of being loved and wanted and kept.

To be wanted that much....by men AND women? *shivers*

It took years for my sexuality to evolve to this point. Things that started as the deepest darkest fantasies of my teenage years now come to full bloom as an adult as I began to live some of them out.

I am at my happiest when I am fully feminized and subservient and being dominated and controlled. Owned. It is the hottest, most erotic thing in the world to me as well as the warmest, safest mindspace I can be in. The further down the rabbit hole, the happier I am.

Its utterly utterly addicting. If I didn't have to slave away in the real world I would live like this, if I could.

So yes...I can admit now, I am bi. In context. In the outer world? No, I am not. But as Tia?

Fuck yes. *deep red blush*

Tia wants not only to suck cock and be fucked by one, she wants to be seduced by a man. Touched all over by one, caressed, held down, overpowered by one. Kissed. Long, deep kisses where I melt into it and feel myself far down in that deep mindspace of being so utterly and beautifully feminized that I am lovingly imprisoned in that role. I want to feel strong hands trace their way all around every curve of my body. To surrender, body and soul. Feel that hot hard cock on my asscheeks...shiver with the knowledge that *I*...me of all people!..made him hard and am about to be fucked..

Call him Master.

I want to feel pretty and desired by a man. Even though I know I'm not and nowhere near passable, I need to feel it. To try to believe that someone else thinks I am. To be wanted and kept this way.

That's the heart of the fetish to me. So far down the rabbit hole, to become a wanted and kept sextoy to both men and women, to fulfill that basic desire to be desired.

My own sissy heaven.

Strapon Therapy

Its been a brutal last few weeks at work as my busy season hits its peak, working 6 days a week, 60+ hours a week or more. I haven't been able to spend much time with Mistress, and what time off I've had has been running errands and doing drudge chores and all of that other mundane day-to-day stuff that you do as a part of life. Add to that more than a bit of depression, and worry about how I am going to pay my bills and make ends meet when the season ends on November and I become once again almost-but-not-quite unemployed.

So my libido has been suffering quite a bit...all the time at work seemingly filling up my life, becoming my life and taking it over for all intents and purposes. And despite being a submissive and sexual sissy I have this kind of macho thing where I bottle up all of these problems and dark feelings so as not to let them affect those I love. Mistress has plenty on her own plate without me adding to them: its better to just be stoic about it.

But there's only so much pressure one can take, and a couple of days ago some of the cracks began to show. I opened up to Mistress about all of what I was feeling, the insecurities and worries, the feelings of disconnect and isolation. We spent some time cuddling and making the pain go away, reconnecting with each other.

And then the next night, after another 10 hour workday she decided to reteach me what my *real* life is--that is, being her feminized sissy slave. Reality, not fantasy.

It wasn't elaborate...I wasn't made up or dressed in anything really exciting (like the photo above, taken from our video "Tia Transformed & Taken"). Just a sissy-ish baby blue tshirt and matching thong.

I wasn't feeling particularly pretty either...I'm all hairy now, there really hasn't been much in the way of time over the past three months for shaving or much in the way of feminine maintenance. But the exterior stuff....didn't seem to matter. Once Mistress put on her strap-on and made me suck it, and beg for it, and be fucked with it deep and hard and powerful, her taking me roughly and grabbing my hair and holding me by the throat, or pinning my hands behind my back as she fucked me and made me admit to how much I loved her cock, how much I wanted nothing more in life than to service her cock and anyone else she chooses as her sissy whore...I melted beneath her, feeling her body shudder with pleasure as she had several orgasms from fucking me...I felt my body open up with total sissy whorish abandon, wanting it more and more....my cockette totally frustrated & ignored but being in total acceptance of that, and surrender to it.

Wanting her to use me as her girl now and forever.

So hot. So frustrated right now writing this, still in the same panties, feeling my legs and ass muscles ache and clench and want to be taken all over again...

Yes. I'm feeling much better now. :)

Thank you Mistress, for putting me in my place and making me see once again that this is my real life, my life as your slave, and it is oh so sweet.

Please Fuck My Wife While My Prostate Is Milked!

Dylan is a highly sexed woman and her husband Lance is just not enough cock for this sex crazed amazon. While they are out to dinner Dylan suggests bringing home the cute couple sitting behind them at the restaurant but Lance is having none of it. Many glasses of wine later the couple, Christian and Madeline end up back at Dylan's place and all three of them cuckold Dylan's husband together! The cuckolding is HOT and the humiliation of being cuckolding by three people is evil but that's not even the best part! While Lance is made to watch his wife fuck another man Madeline puts him in chastity and milks his prostate. It was so overwhelming that he shoots a fat load in his chastity belt without ever getting hard, TWICE!!! His dick can't lie and now we all know that he actually gets off on watching over men pleasure his wife even though he keeps completely denying it!

Cuckholded, sodomized, and forever enslaved...

Francesca's loving husband puts together a surprise celebration for her birthday complete with champagne, cake and presents. Unbeknownst to her he has also set up the best present a woman could ever ask for, a hot sexy stud with a rock hard cock ready to give her all the orgasms and pleasure she deserves! Francesca and Henry are totally in love yet they both accept the fact that he can't please her sexually so Henry's boss Christian is the man for the job! Francesca locks her husbands cock away in chastity and whips, spanks and tortures his balls in front of Christian. She humiliates Henry by sucking Christian's cock then spits her cock laced saliva all over Henry's face and chastity belt. Henry is fucked in the ass while he is unwillingly made to suck his bosses cock to get it ready for his wife to fuck. Finally Francesca rides Christian's dick while her husband is made to watch every orgasm. Francesca takes Christian's full load into her mouth then spits his man juice all over her husbands face while he is made to tell her Happy Birthday!

Playing 'Doctor', Femdom-style

Many years ago, when I was a young teenage boy, just starting to figure out my sexuality, I had my first Femdom experiences with my best friend's two sisters across town.

I think I was 13, 14 at most. Their ages were 12 and 10 I want to say? Its hard to remember. And at that age the age difference is a big thing, maybe an uncomfortable age difference tantamount to child abuse to my now-adult mind and conscience. Its why I never told this story to anyone other than Mistress until writing this.

And if that disturbs anyone, I apologize...but its naive for us to stick our heads in the sand and try to pretend that children are NOT sexually experimenting at that age. There's a reason why "Playing Doctor" and "You show me yours and I'll show you mine" are such common stories/experiences.

My "Playing Doctor" game just happened to take a more Femdom route, is all.

I'm not going to deny it, I was 'topping from the bottom' as it were. But only at the beginning. I was older, a little smarter, and honestly more than bit manipulative at that age. I happened to be alone with the two sisters, and we were playing some game or other (I forget what it was now) and I casually made the suggestion that we gamble on who was going to win the game, and the loser would be forced to do anything the winner said.

The girls liked the idea...and I made quite sure I lost the bet, much to their delight.

You win. Now...what do you want me to do?

Kiss your feet?

And with that, the idea was planted right in their minds that yes, yes they wanted this older boy to grovel before them and kiss their feet, each taking turns having me crawl to her and do so.

You're not going to have me lick your shoes clean, are you?

And that's all of the prompting it took. Both girls thrilled to the newfound power they held over me, especially the younger one, and from that point forward whenever any of us were alone together that summer I obeyed their every command. The pretense of 'losing a bet' wasn't even needed after that first time.

And the youngest sister...my god.....did she get off on humiliating me....I remember one occasion, she forcefully took my hand and led me away in private, told me to get down on my knees and said "I have a Girl Scout meeting soon. I can't go to it with dirty shoes now, can I?" and had me lick her tennis shoes all over to her satisfaction before leaving to go to that meeting, leaving me dazed and aching and humbled by the fierceness in her.

The older girl...the novelty soon wore off, although one time she did enjoy taking me down in her parents basement, ordering me to lie on my back and be dry humped to my frustration by her, while her sister had me kiss her feet and ass the entire time. She even spanked me with a broom when I wasn't obeying fast enough.

I was playing with fire that summer. I don't know how it could have ended in anything other than discovery and scandal. I was helplessly drawn to them, to ache for them, to humiliate myself before them for their entertainment and pleasure. The same look of domme-space and power that I see in my Mistress today is the same look the younger sister had so many years ago, ordering me to kiss her ass and telling her sister "He does anything I tell him to do...", so sexually charged and full of the rush of power.

Perhaps fortunately for me our Femdom games were not discovered. Fate intervened. At that same period of my life I was engaged in petty street crime with their brother, the friend who I ostensibly was over at that house to see in the first place. Since we weren't exactly criminal masterminds we were caught, our parents fined, and we weren't allowed to be friends anymore from that point on.

If that had not occurred....I don't know how much further it would have gone with the girls and me. For years afterward, until I started having real sex with my first girlfriend it was the hottest thing I had ever done in my life...my first sexual play ever, and it was as a slave, a submissive male who longed for nothing more than to be dominated and controlled by Women.

It wasn't experimenting or play-acting to me. It was an epiphany, a realization that this is who I am. This is what I was meant to be.

I wonder sometimes, if the girls remember our games that summer and if it affected them in any way. They were willing, even eager participants even it was my idea and my suggestion at first. Did it warp them, scar them for life...or empower them?

Are there two Mistresses out there right now, toying and playing and dominating men for their pleasure as adults thanks to me?



Figurative ass-kissing

I call written worship, things like letters of adoration, "figurative ass kissing". You know, as opposed to literal ass kissing, which would be when someone's face is pressed against my ass, lavishing it with kisses and licks and...you get the picture.

I like both kinds and Tia has standing orders to send me a written thank-you at certain times. Like every time I use him sexually, whether he's allowed to cum or not. It's like the dom equivalent of maintenance spankings for me. Waking up to this in my inbox helps keep me in my happy place:

Just wanted to write and thank you for using my slutty body last night Mistress... Oh...ohhhh it felt so good to be fucked by you, to give you an orgasm with your cock buried deep inside my slutty ass. It was so hard to not cum myself... I cannot remember the last time I was allowed to cum even remotely close to being a 'real man'. For the past few months I think I haven't been, and my body is being retrained to only have sex as your girl....and that thought makes me squirm and ache and shiver. It felt so powerful last night...you grabbing my hips, my hair, taking me roughly, leaving me no doubt that I was your bitch and you are in charge. And all I can do is sit here and ache for more today... --your sissy

Using and abusing the maid

StraponTales @ FerroNetwork

I cant make out what they're saying but its still hot to watch this domina bend her sissy maid over the table and fuck her senseless! ;)

Things I love about sissies #1

He asked me last night in the middle of a passionate play session “Mistress, I know this (feminization) is my deep fetish…but what do YOU get out of it?”

I answered with the first thing that popped into my head: how much I love having a special girl, one who’s a girl just for me. Not that I want to keep her to myself; I love sharing my beautiful sissy slavegirl with the world! But in a way she’s my creation; she’s the girl I made her to be. I’ve chosen her clothes and makeup, I dictate the way she paints her nails and what bath products she uses. I’ve molded her on the inside too, always demanding that she learn new skills. She’s like a giant Barbie doll: I get to dress her up however I want. Then when she’s dressed I get to play all sorts of delicious sex-games with her. And her warm, whimpering, quivering, moaning, melting flesh is a LOT more fun than those tiny plastic Barbie-bodies ever were.

There’s appeal in the artistic process of this, the actual choosing of clothes and makeup and stuff. The sculpting of her style. There’s pure physical pleasure in the sexual & intimate services she provides. There’s practical pleasure in her more sensible services too. But I admit that what I get off on most from all this is just being in control. She is the way she is because I willed it to be so. I created her. And that makes me feel like a goddess.

I’ve been planning for a while to embark on a series of posts on the subject of ‘things I love about sissies’. There are so many things I love about femme boys in general and my girly boy in particular, it’s not possible for me to write one essay and feel I’ve said all that I want to say on the subject. I mean to make it an ongoing project instead, writing a short post every time some new thing-to-love occurs to me. My pet’s question has prompted me to finally start. :)

Silent But Slutty

A little while ago Mistress posted about a video I had made for her mostly for her own amusement--somehow I doubt that silent movie porno is going to take the interwebz by storm. ;p

But it was SO much fun to make, I went ahead and even made a little promo/video for it above purely for the fun of it.

I hope you enjoy...and, if you want to see the entire movie, Mistress has it on her clips for sale site here.

Helpless in her arms

pet-trap:

Aren’t you so pleased I removed your Macho facade pet …

We now have the real you …

One who is a Sweetie … One who does as he is told …

Now tell me just how much you like your world controlled by me …

Ohhh last night saw my own wonderful Mistress taking my own 'macho facade' away from me, dressing me in a pink corset, garters, fishnet stockings, silk gloves and high heels.

This was not done for my pleasure, Mistress told me. And in fact had me masturbate rather early in the proceedings '..just to get it out of the way', before an evening or worshiping her feet in sexy high heels and getting intensely spanked, to punish me for straying from my path as her slave and to remind me who is, in fact in control here.

Its Her. Its most definitely Her. I felt just like the illustration above, helpless in his Mistress's arms, all manly pretense taken away. My true self revealed as her obedient sissy slave.

Thank you Mistress. Thank you for loving me, thank you for keeping me, thank you for putting me back in my rightful place at your feet.

And thank you for staying by my side during these rough times. I love you so.

Purging Thoughts

Beautiful fantasy image, isnt it?

Fantasy fetish perfectly enshrined in cartoon form, a perfection that the great majority of submissive fetish crossdressers like myself will never attain.

I've been thinking lately about the act of 'purging', wherein a crossdresser goes through a stage of wanting to purge himself of all of it. Usually associated with shame at who they are, and who they want to be.

I dont have this kind of shame...embarrassment, yes. I'm deeply embarrassed by my sub cd side but I've never lost sleep over it.

I'm not ashamed of who I am.

But I regret it. I think life would have been a whole lot easier if I had stayed on the straight and narrow vanilla path. It cost me a marriage, coming up soon on 20 years since the most painful time in my life, where my own bdsm desires led me to look for relief outside of the marriage and led me to hurt someone who I loved deeply.

The desires that led me to years of searching, as all single male submissive's search. Looking for love, acceptance, a lover and a partner who wanted me as a slave, a lover, a friend. The best of both worlds.

I couldn't bring myself to go the professional dominatrix route. Such a relationship to me...based on a commercial transaction at its core, is artificial. Play acting. I'm topping from the bottom because I'm paying someone to spend time with me because normally such a person would probably never give me the time of day.

And you know what? I've come closer to that than many submissives I know. I am a lucky slave, to have a wonderful Mistress who loves me. And I love her with all of my heart, for whatever that broken part of me is worth.

But its not fantasy. Its not like hot erotica, where everything is like a nonstop porn movie and everyone looks like beautiful fashion models. We are not gifted with being counted among the 'pretty people' whose images are all over tumblr (including my own) or being so beautiful and fashionably hip at a fetish club.

And our reality these days is kicking our ass. Its a lot of tears and bitterness and financial hardship and we seem locked in a escalating downward spiral, dragging all that is good and beautiful and worth living down with it. And I dont honestly know if we will make it through this.

So I'm developing this strange love-hate relationship with everything bdsm and kink related. I'm drawn helplessly towards it, but more and more faced with the fact that my life is not and will never be like anything I want it to be.

I'm under no illusions. I know burning all of my fem things, deleting all my femdom porn is useless. This is part of who I am, god damn me.

And no amount of purging is going to change that.

It don't matter if you're black or white

I have to admit to a little twinge of white liberal angst at seeing all of the 'sissy white cuckold to Dominant Black Male' fantasy stuff on tumblr, and the net.

Is it because the sissy who is fantasizing this scenario has a bit of a racist streak, and the black man in the fantasy is playing to the humiliation fetish? Kind of a reverse-racism?

Of course, with my own fetish interest in feminization I am perfectly aware that I myself can be accused of being misogynistic--that I see that the wearing of women's clothes as demeaning.

I don't, incidentally. Embarrassing yes, demeaning no. For me and my own fetish makeup its about being beautiful...feminization as a means of worship and enslavement. My hangups are more based in insecurity rather than sexism...I've examined the insides of my own head at some length.

So, I admit I live in a glass house as well. I'm not going to throw stones at anyone else's fetish: perhaps the explanation for it is something other than racism and I just don't understand.

The above illustration would be hot to me regardless of the colors involved. Forced bi at the hands of a Dominant Woman is a major hot button for me, guaranteed to cause much erotic squirming every time. And yes, I'm sure that can be picked apart by politically minded activist types into something far more negative than it actually is: such people like to argue for arguing's sake and appear to have too much free time on their hands to pontificate about them endlessly.

I often wonder about people who spend so much time and energy arguing over porn, of all things. With all that is wrong in the world, the cause that makes them so passionate is PORN?? Their lives must be blissfully free of problems for such a trivial thing to be the big motivator in their life.

I've actually had the good fortune to have been playmates once with a lovely black girl (I miss you Shy!) and race was never a part of it. We'd joke and giggle about it a bit, but it was never part of our play at all. She was a hot young girl who enjoyed teasing and tormenting me with my Mistress: I was just a toy, and friend.

And to me that's as it should be.

Turning a Corner

We quarreled again. And again, and again. And then he gave me a present. It was a porn movie. It occurs to me now that perhaps most women would not go all melty upon being given a porn movie, especially as a making-up-after-fighting gift. But for me, it was PERFECT.

We'd shot some video one night that had been screwed up because I forgot to turn the microphone on. He took that footage and turned it into a hilarious silent movie, complete with old-timey film effects and music. When he showed it to me I laughed my ass off the whole way through. Which I think was all he really cared about, making me laugh, but the gift was so much more too. And the more I thought about it the more perfect it was.

There are so many layers to it. On the most obvious level it reminded me of everything good about our relationship. All the laughter and silliness we've shared, the oh-so-delicious sexy play times, the way we've worked as a team. It told me like nothing else could that he wants to be my slave, that he wants just as badly as I do to get back to our "normal" life of perversion and pornmaking.

On an even deeper level it spoke to my Mistressly pride, which has been rather bruised lately. I know how many hours he spent working on it, and knowing how much actual work he would put into this gesture tells me that I can still count on him, even when it takes real effort. Beyond that he had to learn a new skill (video editing) to do it. Which tells me he's still willing to push past his boundaries, get out of his comfort zone and learn new things for me. These things are vital for the health of our Mistress/slave dynamic. I love him...adore him...and would want to be his friend and lover whether he were my 'slave' or not. But if we are to call this slavery then it has to mean something. I have to feel that he IS going to do his best to obey me, to give me what I want, no matter what I ask for. This demonstration that he's willing to work hard & learn new skills is exactly the proof my wounded heart was longing for.

There are other facets to it as well. I'll be able to use the video as the required monthly update on my clips4sale sites, so it spares me the work and worry of coming up with something myself. In this regard it's a seriously useful gift. I'll have a happy glow all month thinking of how I don't have to do that work thanks to him. And I have loved seeing his delight in not only learning something new, but in feeling like he's good at it. These past months of near-unemployment, being utterly broke and feeling unable to even help with the DIY work, have taken a toll on my pet's self-esteem. It makes my heart sing to see him sparked with gleeful optimism for a change.

I could probably go on all day about how many ways this porn-present delights me. But I have to get back to work; the long haul of turning sandpit manor into a lovely little home(cage) for my pet is not finished and the deadline is looming. But I think we've turned a corner now and for the first time in weeks I am looking toward the end with a heart full of hope instead of despair.

Welcome to Sandpit Manor

My life's taken a radical turn lately, away from domming and mom-ing and into previously uncharted realms of home repair and d.i.y. work. A combination of factors (but mainly us being at the lower end of the 99%) have made it necessary for Tia to move. We've been renting a house together for the past three years, with him living in the main part while I use a converted garage & Florida room as my 'studio'. I'd been doing my pro dom sessions and crossdresser makeovers there, and we shoot our amateur femdom porn all over the house. The plan now is for him to move from this place into a smaller, more affordable one. It's guaranteed to be more affordable because the place he's moving into is a mobile home owned by my husband Izzy.

This seemed like a good idea at the time.


Calling this place a mobile home is really giving it pretensions of grandeur; a trailer is what it is and Izzy and I had affectionately dubbed it 'Sandpit Manor' when we lived there back in the days before children. The moniker became even more apt after we moved out and the place was occupied by my brother. My 20-something pothead slacker brother. And many of his {ahem} artistic friends.

They had some very interesting notions of decor. There were tiny shelves made of scrap lumber scattered randomly all over the place. Every available surface was covered with graffiti. And what repairs were made...well, let's just say duct tape figured heavily in my brother's toolbox. They left the place quite full of junk too: furniture, clothes, a closet full of hundreds of old laserdisks. Some of the more interesting items included 2 bongs, a sack of pipe pieces, a digital postal scale, a deck of naked lady playing cards, and a whole pack of cream cheese under a mattress.

That one really threw me a swerve. Given the lifestyle of the house's inhabitants finding food outside the kitchen was to be expected. And cream cheese in the bedroom? It is a standard breakfast condiment; perhaps someone enjoyed having breakfast in bed. It's also not so far from whipped cream or chocolate sauce; I could even imagine a substitution being made in a moment of intoxicated lust. But what on earth made it seem like a good idea to hide it under the mattress?



I've decided to leave the bowling balls whimsically perched in the trees outside. But between the damage done by its former inhabitants and the normal ravages of age the rest of sandpit manor requires some major repair work. So far we've gutted the bathroom, including tearing out the floor & rebuilding it from the joists up, ripped out several other walls and most of the ceiling, and repaired or replaced every single window crank & light fixture in the place. Well, I say 'we' but the fact is I'm doing 70% of the work myself. Izzy is unavailable to help most days and Tia? While not exactly hopeless in the d.i.y department, he started off not being entirely sure of the difference between a flat and phillips head screwdriver. There's been a real steep learning curve to deal with there.

On the one hand I have become a veritable d.i.y. goddess. I pwned those windows and after rebuilding that rotted floor I feel like there isn't much I couldn't accomplish with the right power tools. For the most part I enjoy this sort of work. And it's a HUGE relief to take a break from all the (draining for me) socializing that goes with my job(s) in the sex industry.

On the other hand, what seemed like a good idea at the time may turn out to be a disaster for my relationship with Tia.

In my fantasies he's prancing around in some super cute booty shorts, striped thigh-high socks and a pink tool belt, happily spackling and fetching things and admiring my prowess with power tools. And I stride around competently getting shit done while taking frequent breaks to sexually harass my underling. In reality things are dirty and sweaty and difficult, with more fumbling and cursing than cheerful competence on my part. The work is physically hard, it's tiring, and thanks to my stupid fibromyalgia it fucking hurts. A lot of the time I don't feel much like a goddess.

Tia's issues don't help. He feels inept and clumsy, and the sheer ickiness of the work offends his fastidiousness mightily. He's depressed about moving at all and the prospect of moving into a run-down trailer with all kinds of repair issues doesn't ameliorate that one bit. He's scared and unhappy and wants to avoid the place...and I'm angry and resentful that he doesn't appreciate it (and me) more...and he's angry that I don't appreciate him more...and the whole thing has turned into a vicious cycle of angst that bubbles up every few days into arguments that seem like they're inevitably going to tear us apart.

It's my birthday today. Because there's still a ton of work to do, and because I'm obsessive about it, and because we have to be so careful with our money I will be spending the day working at sandpit manor. For the moment things are peaceful, loving and happy between me and my pet. But there are weeks and weeks of work to be got through still and I'm scared. It all seems so silly when I write it out like this; why should our love not be able to withstand these petty insecurities? But when the temper takes over and the poisonous arrows of hurt accusation start to fly it's hard to see how any affection could survive.

I just pray that what seemed like a good idea at the time doesn't turn out to be my worst birthday ever.

Maslow's Needs

Regular readers (is there such a thing on this blog?) may have noticed Mistress and I have been kind of quiet on the blog lately and on twitter too to some extent after the big birthday kinkfest that we had back in Feb.

Well, we're not dead, and the blog hasn't been abandoned by any means, we have just been busy spending far too much time in the vanilla world then either of us really care to.

We have both been obeying the law of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. That is, we have been more preoccupied with meeting our physiological and safety needs to indulge in our higher needs of hot kinky sex.

Not that I want to bore anyone with our problems, but the economy has huffed and puffed and finally blown our house of straw down. The company that I work for has cut me down to working 3, maybe 4 days a week if I'm lucky, and as such we cannot afford the studio any longer and I must move, and soon. Mistress has been working very hard at renovating the property I am to move into, and I am *so* proud of her at the work she's doing...and so thankful to her and her husband that it can and has brought me to tears more than once.

I am poor yes, but in terms of those who love me? I am rich beyond compare. Thank you Mistress. Thank you Sir.

So even though I haven't been working on the job much, all the 'free' time I have left has been spent in either helping in the renovations or just trying to get by--looking for extra work, selling things on Ebay, having near-weekly garage sales (all the while hoping that no one looks around my garage and goes, "Hey, wasn't this where Sissy's First Video was filmed? :P ) trying to divest myself of some possessions that wont fit in the new, smaller place and trying to pay bills. I'm not going to go on and on about it--I know I'm not alone going through a very rough patch right now, and there are plenty of people in worse circumstances than ours. I just felt an explanation of our silence was in order.

So things have been busy, and stressful, and kind of depressing. Not exactly conductive to hot kinky fun times. I'm hoping that once the renovations are done and the move accomplished that Mistress and I can resume our 'normal' (if such a term can be applied to us) day-to-day life of a loving Femdom-sissy couple.

I'm sure there might be some interest and even serve some kind of purpose about talking frankly about the real life trials and tribulations of being in a Femdom 24/7 (or as best we can) relationship, particularly when real life issues put the stress and strain on the dynamics of the relationship. And Mistress might indeed, for therapeutic value if nothing else might choose to write about that sometime. It might be a good change of pace as opposed to the popular Femdom fantasy stereotype where we are both dressed and doing kinky nasty things to each other every hour of every day--as seems to be the case in nearly all Femdom fiction a a few reality-challenged blogs. Talking about what couples do when the mojo runs low, and when one is so stressed, scared and depressed that it just seems to overwhelm and darken every waking moment.

You know, the Real World. As opposed to the Fictional Whips & Chains world.

But that is up to Mistress if she wishes to do something like that. I am not up to that task, other than this one blog entry.

I'm off to shower now and go do another day of work on my future home.

--tia

PS. This isn't a PBS Pledge break, don't get me wrong, but if anyone reading IS interested in our videos, or anything else we try to advertise, like Alt Com, well...it would help. Our self-confidence, if nothing else.

Happy Birthdayversary (tia's thoughts)

It was without a doubt, the most beautiful BDSM 'scene' I have ever been part of.

I hate to even call it a 'scene', as to me it implies a sense of play-acting and fantasy that doesn't do justice to my relationship with my wonderful Mistress. And while Mistress did role-play a bit with me, to me it was all about submission to her body and soul, and of absolute trust. No acting or role-playing on my part was necessary.

I awoke rather groggily after only probably getting 3 hours of sleep or so to find my Mistress's face in front of mine and a plastic knife to my throat warning me to do as I was told and I wouldn't be hurt. Was I still asleep? Was I dreaming? I was blindfolded, gagged and my hands bound behind my back before I fully knew what was going on, taken outside wearing nothing but a sissy tshirt and frilly ruffled panties...omg Im outside!

I was pushed into what I thought was the trunk of Mistress's car at first before figuring out that it was alot roomier than a trunk, that I must be in the back of my own minivan.

And then the van started to move, increasing the 'holy shit' factor a hundredfold. Where were we going? What time was it? What am I in for?

The car ride seemed to take a long, long time, mostly in silence and the slight pain discomfort from my hands being bound so tightly behind me. I had no idea where we were...so many turns, different road surfaces. I remember thinking we were on a gravel-lined country road at some point because of the way the road sounded and how it the vibration of the car floor felt.

Was this all a massive headfuck? Would I be marched back inside my own house?

I didn't put anything past my Mistress. Had she made arrangements to take me by force to some clinic to receive a very humiliating laser hair removal treatment?
Yes, it was the middle of the night (presumably) but I was still very groggy and disoriented, and, after all, last year for my birthday I had been bound and my ears pierced as a mark of my permanent feminization and enslavement to her. So I wouldnt put anything past this Woman!

Was I to be used and abused somewhere by both Mistress and her husband? (I had thought him in the car with Mistress, and I now shyly confess to being a little disappointed to later discover that he wasnt)

OR...well...for a while now Mistress had been teasing me about finding me a 'boyfriend' or a 'Master' and my wild subbie imaginings wondered if she had really gone and done it: found some strange man on alt com or somewhere and I was about to experience perhaps more forced-bi fantasy than I was actually ready for? The old 'Be careful what you wish for..' saying whispered in my head, sending delicious shivers up and down my spine.

The car stops and we sit there in silence for a bit. Then the rear door opens and I'm helped out of the van (omg I'm outside AGAIN!) and up a few stairs and...and...I guessed where we were at from the short little stairs. Sandpit Manor, my future home.

I'm still kind of disoriented and confused however, as I still don't know what all she has in mind, and where the heck is Mistress's brother? I didn't think he had moved out yet and left the place vacant.

Mistress has written a better account of our night here and it would be foolish of me to try to recount it all over again to our readers, because I know I cannot do a better job.

But I just want to share my thoughts/feelings on it...so much of our play is internalized to me. I kind of bliss out into subspace and let go, and that's exactly what happened. I was used and fucked in so many ways, so many positions, being taken over and over by Mistress and her strap-ons, or being allowed to lick and worship her pussy, or having gizmo (the dildo face harness) strapped to my face and used in such a humiliating and frustrating fashion.

I lost all track of time...I was taken from my sleep, so I was groggy from that, then blindfolded for a long period of time and so deep in subspace that I didn't know if it was day or night or how long I had been kept prisoner and used as a fucktoy over and over and over...my world became one of pure physical sensation, and I drowned in the sensations of it, feeling like I had been reduced to just a sexual animal to be used for my Mistress's pleasure, and that I existed only for that wonderful purpose of pleasing her. My own selfish gratification didn't even enter into it.

And it was....so hot and raw and primal, but...so beautiful at the same time. What I found so beautiful was how well she knows me, and how well she can read me that words were unnecessary even if I had not been gagged. She knew, for instance, when my legs couldn't take a position anymore and I had to move or shift weight. She knew when I was thirsty and had me drink without me saying a word or begging for it. A Mistress and her devoted slave in perfect harmony with each other.

I get a little teary from the joy of it just thinking about it.

I was/am so touched by how much thought, effort and planning was put into it. Every little detail, from my allergy pills to remembering my favorite brand of beer and how I like my BBQ. How much effort she put into providing me with one of the best kinky and hedonistic experiences of my life as a birthday present.

It takes my breath away...

Someone watching us might have only seen the surface details: a hot and actually kind of rough rape/kidnapping scenario but deep down in my heart I knew the truth of it: that this was an act of pure love.

I have never felt so loved, or so owned in my entire life.

Thank you Mistress. I love you more than words can say.

Happy Birthdayversary! (the butterfly emerges)

We ate our feast of bbq and yes, he did drink the beer from the dog dish. (I let him have a second bottle though; I’m such a softie.) Then I was finally ready to let my filthy slut get cleaned up. I stood and tugged at his leash, prompting him to scramble up and follow me on a tour through the house. On closer inspection it delivered more in the way of ‘derelict den of iniquity’ than I could ever have imagined. We are going to have a LOT of work ahead of us to get the place back into decent shape. But eventually we ended up in the bathroom, where a poster of Frank Zappa on the toilet watched as I stripped my sissy down and ordered him into the shower.

He shivered as he stood there naked while I fumbled with the pliers that were necessary to turn the water on. Then he yelped and jumped away when the spray hit him. “Oops, I guess I forgot to mention that the hot water heater is broken too!” I chirped with malicious glee. My fanatically fastidious pet finished his shower in record time and I had to laugh when I saw how careful he was to not wet anything that didn’t absolutely have to be washed. I was not such a pansy when it was my turn; after the first shock of cold the water felt good against my heated flesh.

When we’d finished bathing it was time to complete the feminine transformation of my pretty pet. I fastened the collar around his neck and led her, still naked & shivering, back to the living room. There I dug around in my duffel bag until I found the outfit I wanted: a pretty babydoll nightie, with stockings and panties to match. The fabric of the nightie was sheer ivory georgette accented with black and red. The underwire bra that made up the bodice had miniscule black polka dots, while the skirt that fell from the empire waist was decorated with pairs of black pinstripes running like pleats down to a slight ruffle at the hem. The entire thing was trimmed with narrow black lace and tiny, strategically placed red satin bows.

I chose black fishnet thigh-highs to go with it although that violates our usual ‘black is for dommes, not sissies’ rule. Dressing Tia up is truly like dressing a giant living Barbie doll for me, expressing my inner fashionista, and the aesthetic demands of the OUTFIT take precedence over mere D/s protocols. (And besides, I know what black fishnets do to my leg-loving sissy, and I wanted to push every possible button in that slavish mind.) Next came breastforms, the big DD cup jahoobies, and the finishing touch: sheer red panties, decorated with red velvet dots and tied at the sides with red satin ribbons.

Practically like a great big red bullseye now that I think about it, hehehe!

I slipped her new heels back on her feet and fastened the red suede shackles back around her wrists and ankles. Now it was time for makeup. I took my time, carefully painting her eyelids in shimmering shades of pale aqua and mint, lining them with a glittery purple and adding black mascara and long fake lashes. I used a crimson stain to outline her mouth, giving pouty fullness to her lips, and added sheer red cherry-flavored gloss for sexy shine. A light dusting of blush on her cheeks and there she was, my beautiful porcelain-skinned sissy slavedoll.

This would be the time for her to don a wig, and I know she feels prettier and more feminine when I let her wear one, but I haven’t been fussy about the way she gets her hair cut for no reason. And my insistence on gradually adjusting her style to a more androgynous one pays off at times like these, when I want her to look perfectly pretty but still want to be able to pull the fuck out of her hair. I selected a matching headband decorated with pearly beads, settled it on her head, and her style was instantly transformed into a gamine pixie cut.

Once she was completely dressed I just couldn’t stop staring at her, she looked soo beautiful. Sparkling, mischievous blue eyes batting long lashes at me…pouting red lips made for kissing…silky curls begging to be touched…those legs, those gorgeous curvy legs in the slutty black stockings and heels..and omg that ASS. And looking and looking at all that soft pretty femininity made me want to sully it.

I ordered her down on her knees and reached for gizmo again. This time before I strapped it around her head I made her suck the longer dildo end. And as she sucked I gave a running commentary, telling her what a good little cocksucker she’d become and how very pretty she looked while doing it. Telling her how much I loved shoving my dick down her throat, and up her ass, and every other place I could violate her with it. Rubbing it in her face and making HER tell me how much she loved being raped in every possible way by me, how much she loved being my depraved fuckdoll, how she wanted to be my sissy slavegirl forever.

Finally I strapped the gizmo around her head and pulled her to me. I leaned back into the sofa cushions and guided the dildo into my wet pussy. For a few moments I just watched her head bobbing between my legs. She looked so helpless, so bound and servile..the raped & broken fuckslave of my most perverted fantasies. What an incredible thrill it was to have taken her like this, used her like this. What a thrill it was to own her. Then I closed my eyes, moved one hand to my clit and the other to my recently pierced nipple, and began to wank off again.

I came again, far too quickly. And afterwards we slept, both of us exhausted by the exertions of the day.

Happpy Birthdayversary! (decadance ensues)

By now I was feeling quite exhausted. I’d been up for a full 24 hours and spent a good bit of that time engaged in {ahem} vigorous activity. He peered around, blinking, trying to clear vision dulled from having been blindfolded for hours; I pulled him against me and we collapsed together on the sofa.

For all the kinky, raunchy things we do I think one of the most important things tia and I give to each other is the simple joy of snuggling. Lying in each other’s arms, bodies pressed together. Stroking his springy curls and marveling at the way he feels curled against me, so sweet and tender and somehow, at least to my Mistress-ly psyche, submissive. Like he’s completely surrendered to me and found utter peace in doing so. After the very thorough fucking of his mind & body that’d been going on this night it was obvious that he was floating in bliss. Maybe he wasn’t even aware of the way he continued gently humping against my leg, his frustrated winkie desperately trying for some satisfaction. But I noticed his lust-driven motions. And seeing how thrillingly aroused he was, how lost in ecstasy after all the nasty things I’d been doing to him, got me going once again.

After a little while I impulsively pushed him down on the mat once more and climbed on top of him. Reaching into my nearby dildo case I pulled out a condom and a couple of mini clothespins. I rolled the condom over his erection and slid down onto it, taking it easily inside myself. Then I leaned forward and clipped a pin to each nipple. From his reaction I guessed that the pinch of these was much more bearable – and pleasurable – than the full size variety. Which only encouraged me to play with them more, and harder.

I twisted the pins and flicked them with my fingers. I lightly slapped them. I grabbed them, pulling them farther and farther away from his body until his nipples were painfully stretched. And then I really started to move, riding him harder and harder, stretching those nipples out more and more with every thrust. My powerful humping made his body slide around under me; I viciously pulled his nipples out even further, holding them in place above his chest as if I were trying to use them as tiny anchors.
Poor thing; I guess it’s nothing to be wondered at if his little cockette started to wilt from all that, ah, stimulation.

But once again the feeling of taking him sadistically, without regard for his pleasure, of raping him, had got me REALLY excited. I wanted another orgasm, the full-strength clitoral kind. He gasped as I abruptly hopped off, then whined at the torture of cold air where seconds ago there had been slippery wet heat engulfing him. I tugged his leash as I swung around to sit on the sofa, making him scramble to his knees and crawl hesitantly toward me. “Get your face over here slave.” I ordered, patting my shaved pussy lips. “I want you to lick me.”

This time his moans were muffled by the folds of my cunt as he obediently nuzzled up to my crotch and started licking. He ran his tongue up and down the full length of my slit, which he knows I like, and sucked gently on my outer labia. I closed my eyes and lay back, savoring the sensations. But it wasn’t quite what I wanted; so after two or three minutes I pushed his head down and amended my order: “Lick my hole slut.”

From the way he groaned I guess he found my order especially humiliating. I found it delicious, feeling that tongue alternately darting into my hole and delicately lapping at the outer rim of my vagina I slipped a finger down and began rubbing my clit again. I took my time this time, or at least I tried to. I held off from coming for a while anyway, floating in a cloud of ecstatic sensation. When I finally let go, allowing the waves of orgasm to crash over me, I bucked so hard againsthim it’s a wonder I didn’t give him a bloody nose.

Once the waves of pleasure had dissipated I had to take a nap. I ordered tia to curl up on the floor next to the sofa, spread a coverlet over him and settled myself down on the sofa. I dozed for an hour or so, enough to get my second wind, and then seeing it was after ten I decided it was time to put the next part of my plan in motion. This part required that tia be left in bondage while I went out for a while. So I ran a heavy chain through the d-rings on his shackles, around the leg of the sofa, and fastened it with a padlock. Another length of chain for his ankles and I was confident that the illusion of inescapable bondage was complete. (It was only an illusion of course; should there be a real emergency he could have unfastened the shackles with very little effort.) I stood over him, legs apart, and informed him that I was leaving for a while, and he better not try to get away while I was gone. Giving him a little kick in the flank I turned, snatched up my purse, and strode out the door.

My errand was fetching a large quantity of barbeque, tia’s favorite food. So when I returned about 30 minutes later I left the bags in the van so the smell wouldn’t give me away. As soon as I got in I fed him another allergy pill, awkwardly holding the glass so he could sip some water while still chained to the sofa. I doubt he stayed hard the entire time I was gone, but his cockette was fully erect and glistening with pre-cum when I got around to noticing it now. So I decided it was time to let my sissy slave have a nice orgasm of his own…but only in a very sissy fashion of course.

I’d taken a few minutes before I left to wash the toys, so now I stood and went to the kitchen to retrieve my strap-on. I stripped to my bra and panties and wiggled back into the leather harness, with the purple vibrating dildo in place. Returning to the living room I unchained tia from the sofa. Now he was lying on his back; I squirted a glob of lube on the head of my cock, lifted his legs, and took aim at his already well-fucked hole. Leaning into him I let my own body weight force my cock deep inside, until my pelvis rested against the curve of his ass. And then I began to fuck him with slow, deep thrusts. I started out softly, lying on top of him, kissing and stroking him like a gentle lover. But soon I sat back on my haunches, pushing his legs against his chest and reaming him.

“Touch yourself slut,” I ordered. “I want to see you wanking that little cockette for me.” He moaned and obediently reached down to wrap his huge hand around his tiny dick. I love to tease him about how small his penis is, how insignificant it is to me. But in actual fact it’s a perfectly normal 5.75”. It LOOKS really small when he’s holding it though; his hands are so large they dwarf it. And I’m not sure why this sight – of his big long fingers wrapped around his delicate dicklet – gets me so hot, but it does. Maybe I get a thrill from seeing my verbal humiliations brought visually to life.

My growing excitement shows in my words; as he tugs on his joystick I spew a stream of obscenities, telling him how he belongs to me, how he’s nothing but a fucktoy, a piece of meat for my pleasure, a collection of holes for me to rape and plunder. His arousal is obvious in his grunts, whimpers and moans, but I can also tell he’s holding back. He knows better than to cum without permission…and he’s also inhibited by that streak of fastidiousness that I so love to violate. He would want to cum in a condom, or a tissue, or anywhere else but all over himself, making a sticky mess. So naturally that’s what I want him to do.

I push his hand away and grab hold of that pretty phallus myself. Jerking my hand up and down the curved shaft I growl “I want you to cum for me slut, just like this. Cum with your ass stuffed full of my big dick and your little cockette in my hand where it belongs. Shoot your sissy cream all over your belly and make a big icky mess for me. Cum for me NOW slave, and show me what a well-trained ass whore you really are.” Groaning helplessly, with his eyes rolled back in his head, he did just that.

His cum spurted out over my fingers and onto his tummy, rivulets of sperm trickling down to fill his bellybutton. I kept squeezing his cockette until it ceased to twitch, coaxing every last dribble out of it. Then I dipped two fingers into the viscous mess on his belly, scooping up as much of it as I could, and cheerfully ordered “Now open up slut! You know the rule: when sissy cums, sissy eats it! And lucky you,” I continued as he slurped the goo off my fingers, “today you get to taste it fresh without that nasty condom flavor.” He moaned as I dipped my fingers in the puddle of cum again, collecting another glob of slimy jizz and feeding it to him. I continued scooping it up and feeding it to him until I couldn’t get any more off him. And then I wiped my fingers on his belly and face, smearing the remains of his orgasm all over him.

He was still shuddering, deep down the rabbit hole of sexual degradation, when I finally pulled my cock out of him and clambered to my feet. Looming over him I reached out one foot to fondle and mash his wilted member. “Awww my little sissy, look at you” I gushed sweetly, “that’s exactly how a slut like you should look: well fucked and covered in cum.” I gave a final stomp, squashing his genitals under my bare foot, before turning away to wiggle out of my harness once more.

When I turned back I saw that he was sitting up and scrubbing at his semen-stained face with his hands. “Stop that slut!” I barked, reaching for my crop and dealing out a slash on his shoulder with it. “Stupid whore, if I wanted you to clean that off I’d have told you to! You’re nothing but a cumbucket now and you better get used to wearing it.”

Giving him a second sharp whack I bent to retrieve a small black case from the side pocket of a duffel bag. “And here’s another thing you’ll have to get used to wearing slave.” I chortled, spilling the clear plastic bits of his chastity cage out on the sofa. I tugged the leash to get him up on his knees and facing me, then began the finicky process of locking him into it. First the ring around the back, behind the balls, then the bit that closes the ring and holds it in place. Next the ribbon tied painfully tight just below the glans and used to pull the penis down into the shaft of the cock-cage. The happy second of snapping the lock closed followed by the painful moments of pulling and prying to loosen the ribbon and free it from the cage. When he was finally secured in it I gave the device a few smacks, making it clatter and bounce from side to side as I reminded him “There now, that’s safely locked away. Because nobody is interested in using that silly little thing, are they slut? Except to torture and control you with.” Grinning evilly, I slipped on my tshirt and yoga pants then sauntered outside to collect the barbeque.

He must have had an inkling of what was to come as soon as the smoky sweet aroma hit him. But he cannot have anticipated me strolling in with a dog dish in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. I perched on the sofa and plonked the double dish down on the floor in front of him. One side of the dish was piled high with savory ribs and chicken wings, liberally slathered with his favorite sauce. I popped open the top of the beer and, pouring it into the other side of the dish I declared “NOW I have crossed the line into complete decadence!”

to be continued..

Happy Birthdayversary! (breaking him in)

After having spent the day preparing I found it hard to relax. I suddenly got nervous; what if something went horribly awry? I tried to grab some sleep but gave up after about an hour and decided instead to shower, then head over to make my final preparations. Finally everything was in order and I returned home to collect my accomplice. We made our way to tia's house where Izzy was to take away our car while I took tia's. I'm still very amused by the thought that I stole his car to kidnap him in.

At long last I crept into his room, plastic knife in one hand, dirty panties and vet wrap in the other. Climbing on top of his sleeping form I growled “do as you’re told and you won’t get hurt bitch” as I pressed the knife to his throat. I shoved the panties into his mouth and wrapped the vet wrap a few times around his head, over his mouth, to hold them in place. A few more wraps around his eyes, then I rolled him over and wrapped the last 1/3 of the roll around his wrists, binding them tightly behind his back.

With Izzy on one side and me on the other we led him out to the van. Barefoot, blindfolded, bound and gagged, and wearing nothing but the girly tshirt and sheer ruffled panties I’d ordered him to put on earlier. Though he was clearly still groggy from sleep I could also see him trembling in blissful anticipation already. It must have been an exquisite torture being led outside, practically naked but still feminized, with his slave role so blatantly on display, right out where all his neighbors (for all he knew) could see him! And with the knowledge in his mind that wherever I was taking him, whatever I was doing with him – he would be trapped there and at my mercy, with no id, no money, not even a pair of pants to get home in.

We pushed him into the back of the van and shut the door, then I gave Izzy a quick kiss goodbye and got in. I drove away from our destination at first, keeping a careful eye on the clock and a careful ear out for my captive in the back of the van. After about ten minutes I turned and headed back to sandpit manor. I reckoned that would surely confuse him about where I’d taken him. The drive was thankfully uneventful (I remember him farting, and me giggling about it) and when we arrived I backed carefully into the drive, all the way up into the carport so that our doings would be obscured by the house, the high fence, and the van itself as well as by the darkness. I waited til the interior vehicle lights had gone out before I opened the rear hatch to let him out. His steps were hesitant but he did not stumble as I guided him across the leaf-littered drive and up the steps into the house.

I’d laid everything out beforehand so when we got there all I had to do was push him down onto the waiting mat and get down to my dirty business. First I wanted to make sure his allergies didn’t interfere with my plans. I dashed into the kitchen and retrieved a glass of water and a shot of Irish Crème liquor. Then back out to where I’d left him bound and helpless on the floor. I grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him up on his knees, then unwrapped the panty-gag from around his head. “How did you like the taste of those, slave? I wore them for two days so they would be nice and filthy for you. Here,” I continued, arranging the panties so the saliva-wet crotch covered his nose, “since I went to all that trouble let’s just keep them on you so you can continue enjoying Mistress’s lovely scent.” He whimpered and shivered in response.

After securing my panties around his head I popped the allergy pill out of its wrapper. Of course HE didn’t know what kind of pill it was as I held it to his lips and ordered “Swallow this bitch”. When he accepted the pill I gave him a sip of water to wash it down, and followed it with the shot glass: “And this too. ALL of it bitch. That should keep you nice and compliant.” I cackled as I pushed his head back to the floor. Let him think I’d given him hormones, or a tranquilizer, or whatever other possibility his fertile imagination supplied. I was confident the pill plus the shot would be enough to soundly push the ‘drugged into helplessness’ fantasy button.

Next I finally undid his hands and, while he groaned and shook the kinks out quickly shimmied into my waiting strapon harness. I grabbed his collar and leash and the red suede shackles and knelt beside him again. As I secured the collar around his neck I calmly stated “you notice I’m not asking if you want this. You’re mine now whether you like it or not, and I WILL do as I like with you.” He trembled again, and I continued, clipping on the leash and securely fastening the shackles around his wrists and ankles. “Now I want you on all fours slave” I barked, smacking him again with my crop, “like the bitch in heat that you are.” I squatted down, perching on the small of his back. Stroking his ass in his pretty polka-dot panties, I outlined what was happening to him: “you’re my sissy whore now, and I’m gonna break you in real good before I start renting this sweet sissy ass out. Gonna make sure you get plenty of practice fucking and sucking so you’ll be able to take it like a pro when I start sending johns to you. You feel that?” rubbing my dildo along his buttcrack “You’ll be feeling every inch of it real soon.”

I stood and administered a couple more whacks along with another warning to do as he was told, then crouched down beside his head. His lips parted obediently as soon as I brushed them with my plastic penis and I slid right inside that warm wet hole but I whacked him a few more times with the crop anyway, warning “I’d better not feel any TEETH, lazy bitch” He moaned and sucked me deeper into his hungry mouth. I held his head with one hand twined in his hair and the other at his jaw, admiring the way it looked to stuff his pretty mouth full. And of course telling him all about how pretty he looked and what a good sissy cocksucker I expected him to be, what a fine addition to my stable of whores.

After a few minutes I announced that he’d sucked my dick enough to get me good and hard, and moved around behind him. I pulled down his panties and planted a kiss on the soft white roundness of his ass then straightened up and began rubbing my cock in his crack. Saying “see how hard you’ve got me bitch? How excited I am at the thought of raping you?” I squirted a glob of lube onto the shiny purple head of my cock then rubbed it around his tight rosebud. As I pushed it in I could feel his asshole twitching around it. He moaned then gasped in pain. I pulled out, added some more lube, and pushed back in several times until I felt he’d relaxed enough to accept me. Then I slid in deeper and deeper til he groaned as my pelvis pressed against his ass.

After I’d gone to the trouble of find the special batteries for the vibe I was damn sure gonna use them, so once I was planted deeply inside him I fumbled around, wiggling my fingers between the harness & my body until I found the button to turn it on. Then I settled in to bugger him really, really well.

I came lots of times while I fucked him, small orgasms made infinitely more potent by my murmuring to him each time: “there bitch, that’s another trick who just shot his jizz into your horny ass. Are you ready for the next one? Too bad, cause there’s another hard cock waiting to fuck you…” Filled with the triumphant feelings of kidnapping him, enslaving him, raping him I became a one-woman gangbang. I was high on the rush of control and insatiably aroused.

At some point I decided to switch cocks. He were so receptive, so pliant beneath me…I was so filled with the sense of power, the idea that I could do anything to him…that I wanted to fill him up with something bigger than he had ever taken before. So after one more orgasm (that’s one more trick pumping a load into your horny ass slave…) I pulled out and, as quickly as I could manage with excited fingers fumbling on slippery lube-wet snaps, I changed to my disturbing alien dick.

I took advantage of the lull in the sodomy to commence with the next level of his ‘breaking in’. My plan had been to rape his ass right away, figuring the buttfucking would break any possible resistance (ha!), and then while he was putty in my hands to begin his sissy transformation. I announced it was time to begin his feminization and pushed him once more up on his knees. As he knelt before me I informed him that we’d be getting him a nice big set of knockers implanted soon, but for starters we were gonna make those cute little nipples as big and pink and puffy as possible. Which naturally means using the nipple suckers. I lifted his t-shirt and laved each nipple in turn, sucking and biting it before attaching the small black suction device that would make it swell and redden.

While I gave the nipple suckers time to work I teased him, stroking his throbbing cockette and speculating about how it might get smaller and more useless once he’d been on the hormones for a while. That’d be ok though, since nobody was interested in using that silly little thing except to torment him with. That it might even make it easier on him once he was locked in chastity all the time. I noted also how the nipple suckers poked through his purple t-shirt, looking for all the world like big fat female nipples perched atop full breasts. I told him how mouthwatering they looked on him, and how charming it would be once we got those implants done and he had big fat boobs for me to play with all the time. How much I would enjoy sliding my cock in between them, tit-fucking him, having yet another way to use him.

After a few minutes of this I judged that his nipples must be sufficiently swollen; with casual brutality I flicked the suckers off both of them at once. They might be red and puffy already but I was not at all ready to stop torturing them, so I bent to nibble and suck on his nipples some more. I got a little carried away perhaps, actually chewing on them more than nibbling. He whimpered and yelped but didn’t pull away from my sadistic caress. I was reluctant to remove my mouth but other urges were growing so I impulsively clipped a clothespin on each nip then moved to the other side of his body.

I used a carabiner to quickly clip his hands together behind his back. Then reached around to tease him about how it made his tits stick out. He yelped when I pushed him forward to lie atop the waiting cushion. It must’ve hurt a lot lying on top of those clothespins like that; he yelped and tried to lift his torso away from the cushion when I settled my ass on the back of his thighs. “Mistress, please…” he whimpered

“What is it slave?”

“The clothespins, they’re too much”

“Well I guess you should beg me to take them off then.”

“Oh Mistress please, your sissy would do anything for you but they hurt so bad Mistress will you please please take them off?”

“Oh, all right, you big sissy” I turned around, straddling his legs, and used his hair to pull him to his knees. Lifting his shirt I ripped the left pin off one nipple, then the other. He yelped and I pressed my fingers against them, soothing that first sting but then making it worse by pinching and twisting on them myself.
But I was in the middle of something, so soon I shoved him back down, face-first, onto the cushion. I leaned over and grabbed the pair of red fishnets I’d laid out and (with the minor interruption of having to unfasten his ankle shackles) sensuously slid them up his legs. He shivered and moaned as the soft stretchy net spread up his legs. Then I opened his other birthday present: a brand new pair of slutty black pumps with 4” heels and a delicate ankle strap. I pulled his feet up one at a time, sliding them into the sexy arched shape of the shoes and fastening the straps securely around his ankles. Then his shackles were returned, and my pretty whore was really looking the part.

I paused to admire my work, stroking his luscious thighs and squeezing his buttcheeks. Then I moved up to his head; I meant to make him suck my big hard cock before I shoved it up his ass. I rubbed it on his (still blindfolded) face, smacking him with it, taunting him about how good it was going to feel to have that entire, massive piece of meat up inside him. How much his slutty whore self was gonna love it, even if it hurt. I get such a rush literally rubbing his face in it like that. And then I slipped behind him once more, pushed him down onto the cushion, spread his cheeks and (adding another quick glob of lube) slid it in. Inch after inch he took it, moaning and whimpering like it hurt but wiggling his cute ass around and humping back against me to take more and more. Soon I was buried to the balls inside him and he was groaning as I swung my hips back and forth. I wanted him to feel every fucking inch of that cock, to feel utterly, completely filled. And USED.

I’d snatched him from his bed just after 3am and when I finally let him up from that first round of sodomy it was six. So I figure I spent nearly two hours fucking that sweet sissy ass. And I know he’d never taken anything that big before. So yeah, I’d guess that I accomplished my goal. *evilgrin*

I must have cum at least 6 or 8 times, maybe more, but up to this point they’d all been those little popcorn orgasms: plenty of ‘em, but none really satisfying. And by now my lust was at a fever pitch. I wanted to cum again, good and HARD. So finally, reluctantly, I pulled my strap-on from tia’s ass and wiggled out of the harness. I unclipped the carabiner holding his wrists together and tugged the leash, prompting him to clamber up on all fours. I knew just how I wanted to accomplish this so I shifted to the sofa and reached for gizmo, our combination gag & dildo. I fastened the strap around his head and pulled it to me, aiming the black rubber phallus at my throbbing pussy. I draped my legs across his shoulders, closed my eyes and began to move, grinding my cunt against his face and frantically rubbing my clit. After just a few minutes I was swept away by powerful waves of pleasure, bucking and clenching my thighs around his head.

When I came down from these ecstatic crests I unwrapped my legs from around his head and unstrapped gizmo. As is our usual custom I presented my end of it to him to lick clean, but I only gave it a few cursory swirls in his hungrily sucking mouth before laying it aside. I was hungry now myself so I scampered to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of orange juice and a couple of donuts. I returned to my seat on the sofa and pressed the glass to his lips, allowing him a sip of juice before feeding him a big bite of donut. He moaned in delight, swallowing the sugary morsel and saying “Mistress, you just crossed the line into complete decadence.” “Oh no my pretty slut," I responded, "I’m just getting started.” When we’d finished devouring our snack I licked my fingers and gathered him in my arms. Unwinding the vet wrap from around his eyes I announced “welcome to your new home bitch.”

to be continued...