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.

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.