Accepting my inner slut

Ohhh last night....

Last night Mistress & Sir came over for 'movie night'. I was dressed for the occasion in nothing but pink thong panties, thigh high pink fishnets, and high heels. I had shaved my body totally smooth earlier, so I was already feeling very sexy and slutty and submissive when Mistress ordered me to get on my knees in front of her husband and remove his clothes with my teeth.

It was awkward and humiliating...just like Mistress likes it for me, but soon he was naked from the waist down and I was kissing my way up his legs, soon kissing, sucking and worshipping his cock, licking up and down the shaft, taking it as deep as I could...

And while I have done this act before, with him, and with others--this time was different...I dont know how to describe it. It felt right. More right than ever before. The natural kneejerk "this is alien!" feeling I get at first when I am engaged in forced bi play did not occur. I'm usually a bit more reluctant, hung up on my own inhibitions.

But it just felt so right...so natural for me. I wasnt even fully feminized...no wig or makeup, just thong panties, fishnets and heels. But I felt so sexy and slutty and feeling feminized in my mind that I felt myself melt into slutty obedience.

Everytime Sir played with one of my nipples, or ran a hand over my cockette in my panties, or rubbed it with his leg as I sucked his cock I melted at the the touch and revelled in the slutty pleasure I was feeling. It was like the door of all my inhibitions and shyness and reluctance was not only opened, it was knocked down entirely!

I still gagged a bit and felt like I was choking when Mistress insisted I suck it deeper into my throat, and pushed my head down onto his cock. T'm thankful I didnt throw up, as I feared I would from the gag reflex. But I was doing such a good job sucking his cock that I got him to cum inside my mouth--way before Mistress was ready, as she had gone out of the room to get her strap-on.

She lubed me up and fucked me anyway, on my knees, her husband's cock still in my mouth...a sissy sextoy to both of them....mmmmm...

Thats all I ever want to be..

Lordy, Lordy, Look Who's Forty!

When we arrived in our room the first thing I did was order tia to strip and kneel so I could fasten the leather training collar (the very same one I led him in to Petsmart to choose four years ago) around his neck.

Then the next thing I did was make him put his clothes BACK on so he could go out and fetch the ice I forgot! :p

After he'd returned, and executed the prime directive of making me a drink (with plenty of ice), I ordered him to strip once more. The chastity device went on next and then my clothes came off. I was eager to try out that jacuzzi tub! I soaked in the tub while the birthday slut prepared his anal fuckhole with multiple enemas. Accompanied by much mockery and amusement from me of course. At last I stepped out of the tub and my freshly-cleansed slave was allowed to dry me off, Princess Ardala style.

We adjourned to the next room, where there was more light, and I had my sissy kneel at my feet so I could do her makeup. While we were thus engaged our friends Mistress Candice and her girl emma knocked on the door. They'd just arrived, having driven down from Jacksonville for the occasion, and I invited them in for a quick chat despite tia's embarrassed nakedness.

After catching up a bit the ladies left to go freshen up themselves, and I recommenced with my pretty pet's feminine transformation. I dressed her in a stretchy pink fishnet top that left her nipples exposed for me to play with, tiny grey thong panties trimmed with rainbow details that framed her ass so sweetly, and finally pale pink thigh-high socks to set off her sexy, curvy legs. The finishing touch was her wig of soft blonde curls and voila, my sexy shemale lover knelt trembling before me.

I'd been fielding text messages & emails from various people throughout the afternoon; many of our prospective guests sent their regrets at the last minute. But two solo crossdressing girls, Stephanie and Aida, were still coming. Stephanie showed up shortly after I'd got tia dressed and while the birthday slave fixed drinks for everyone she and I commenced the first round of 'Truth or Dare'. Within the first few minutes of the game my smart-assed slut had managed to earn two penalties: the first administered in the form of a swift blow to the right buttock with a large wooden spoon, and the second being the forceful insertion of a small dildo (the one we call 'fairy') into her tight ass.

Soon all the guests were assembled, my good little sissy had fetched drinks for everybody, and we were laughing through more rounds of 'Truth or Dare'. One girl's skirt was raised to give us all a good look at her CB-3000 chastity device...another was ordered to crawl around and kiss everyone's feet...a number of titillating confessions were made...and eventually tia wound up on my lap, demonstrating her stripper moves. Which was made that much more interesting by my simultaneously trying on a new thigh-harness loaded with her favorite dildo, which shall henceforth be called Prince Charming. She put on a good show, at least from my perspective, and pictures were taken.

The rounds of the game continued and somewhere along the way emma lost her clothes. (And tia lost her chastity cage.) We all watched as emma's Mistress led her over, naked and crawling on a leash, to render some oral service to a very excited Stephanie. I pulled out my cellphone and snapped some pics at Candice & Stephanie's request but I was soon distracted by groping and molesting my own sexy slavegirl.

Alas Stephanie had to leave early, so I announced it was time for the birthday spankings. Since she had to go soon Stephanie went first, administering eight sensual bare-handed smacks to my pet's thong-framed bottom. Well, I say eight - it was actually more due to my foolish slave having forgotten to keep count. Stephanie also went second, lying across my lap herself and taking a matching set of eight smacks on her own bare bottom from me. Emma declined to be a swatter and so her share of eight blows was split between myself and Mistress Candice, who went next.

Ms. Candice is an old school ass-kicking kind of domme, well known for the intensity of her pain play, so I knew the next dozen blows would be rough on my fragile darling. Therefore I decided to sweeten the experience - and muffle the noise! - by wrapping my strong curvy legs around tia's head, pressing her shrieking mouth into my crotch and smothering her between my soft thighs. I'm not sure whether it helped my little sissy to bear the pain of having Ms Candice wield the hated red leather slapper on her ass, but I certainly enjoyed the experience of having her crying into my pantied crotch.

At last it was MY turn. Aida had ceded her share of the spankings to me so I now had 20 swats to deliver. I'd opted to use the relatively tame black leather paddle with the fluffy sheepskin on one side but I decided to liven things up by inserting Prince Charming into tia's rectum before I started. (The smaller fairy dildo, which I'd stuck in her earlier as a smart-ass penalty, had been removed after about 20 minutes.) I then proceeded to dole out my 20 swats, taking care to aim the paddle to precisely hit the end of the dildo sticking out of her ass. I even got in a few swats with the handle of the paddle, turned so as to strike down on her dangling testicles as it pushed the dildo sharply into her. All in all she was not so much being spanked as being raped with the paddle. *evilgrin*

For the most part during this paddling I knelt beside her on the bed. But at one point I had tia pinned down, with my leg draped across her back and shoulders and my foot pressing her face into the bed. Sadly my damned hip wouldn't let me hold that position for long, and by the time I'd finished administering tia's 40th birthday spanking I was ready to give that injured joint a rest. I might normally, at this point, leave her kneeling on the bed and bugger her from behind. Instead I laid down on my back and ordered her to climb on top of me and ride me cowgirl style.

Being made to perform like the sluttiest porn whore, ride a cock and cum from it in front of a room full of observers, might not have been on tia's bucket list. But making her do it has certainly been on mine! It was so hot to have my beautiful shemale fucktoy moving on top of me, writhing and moaning as I groped her body and murmured nasty things to her. I reminded her that she'd need to be able to do this for her boyfriend someday, and for any other men I decided to give her to. She'd need to be able to bounce and grind on their dicks, doing all the work for them and convincing them that she was desperate to have every inch inside her. Convincing them that she was as horny as a bitch in heat and wanted nothing more than to have her fuckholes stuffed any way they wanted to give it to her. Which shouldn't be hard considering that she really was a horny little slut desperate to get fucked, I mean, look at how she was performing right now in front of her birthday party guests...

I kept it up for a little while, I'm not sure how long, before I ordered her to cum for me. She exploded with shuddering groans that turned to whimpers as I reached down into her panties and peeled off the condom which had captured her spurting cream. She grimaced, but obediently opened her mouth and sucked down every drop.

The party broke up not long afterward and I think we were both quite happy to fall into bed. But the next morning I could not stop thinking of how beautiful she'd looked moving on top of me...and how much I wanted to have her like that again. Something about not just forcing her to submit to getting fucked but forcing her to actually DO the fucking was incredibly hot. It shows how much of a slave she's become, how much her training has taken hold, that she not only CAN do these things and WILL do them, but that she literally gets off on doing them. I remember the days when my putting anything in her ass was an instant erection killer...now here she is begging to be buggered all the time!

So early on, before either of us was dressed or had eaten or anything, I put Prince Charming in my usual harness and slipped it on. I laid back in the bed and once again ordered her to climb on top of me. I made her rub against it, comparing her dainty cockette to its length and girth. Then I made her squirt a glob of lube on the end and rub my plastic phallus up and down the crack of her ass. I pulled her head down to kiss her and growl a few more lewd comments about the previous night in her ear. By now she was whimpering and squirming, and that cockette was throbbingly hard between our bodies. I knew she wanted me inside her, knew she wanted to be fucked again...and I laughed as I pushed her off me and ordered her to put her boy clothes on and go procure some breakfast.

By the time she came back I was dozing off again and I wanted to stay asleep for a while. So I told her to go have a shower, fetch more ice and pack up our things while I slept. About an hour and a half later I woke again and as I stretched and yawned my attentive pet offered me a fresh drink and some fruit she'd brought me from the hotel buffet. I ate a banana then got up and rummaged around in our bags for a couple minutes. Tossing some sheer ruffled panties, a pair of breastforms, and a pink satin bra at her, I ordered "put these on bitch". I think she must have gotten instantly hard; certainly that little cockette was sticking straight out again as soon as she pulled her panties up over it. The blonde wig came next (no time for makeup alas) followed by the leather training collar she'd taken off before showering, and a fresh condom. Just a matter of moments and there was my horny shemale sex slave standing before me once more.

I loaded Prince Charming back into the thigh harness and climbed back into bed. Once again I ordered her to get on top of me; this time I spent only a few moments groping her before I ordered her to reach around and guide my cock into her hungry fuckhole. I felt her muscles twitching around the dildo, the movement transmitted to my skin by the silicone shaft, and she moaned as it sank deeper into her. When my strapon was firmly implanted in her twitching anus she began to hump against my leg. I stilled her movements and adjusted our positions so that she was straddling my left thigh (the one with the harness) and her own left thigh was held between my legs. As she resumed humping back against me I reached down between my own legs and started rubbing my clit. I talked to her, telling her how beautifully slutty she was and describing the ways in which I and others might want to make use of that slutty body in the future. She was soon whimpering and shaking, her eyes rolled back in her head and wearing that unmistakeable look of being a hair's breadth from orgasm. "Do you want to cum slut? Beg me for it!" I purred and without hesitation a torrent of words tumbled out "please Mistress please your horny sissy slut wants to cum so bad please Mistress I'll do anything please.." I laughed "of course you will slave. And now you're going to cum for me. Cum from being fucked like a girl, cum like you did in front of all our guests last night." And cum she did, blushing bright red while she once more filled a condom full of her sissy cream.

I gave her a little shove and she collapsed on the bed beside me, the dildo sliding out of her ass with a tiny, wet plop. I unfastened it from my thigh and dropped it to the floor, then reached for one more toy - the ever faithful gizmo. Sliding the cum-filled condom off her wilting cockette, I drizzled its contents all over the gag side of our gag-mounted dildo toy and pushed it into her mouth. She grimaced at the taste but obediently lowered her head, allowing me to buckle it firmly in place. The, grabbing the dildo which now stuck straight out from her face, I guided her down between my things and into my sopping wet pussy.

I'd had a very small orgasm the night before when she was riding me; I was more than ready for a proper release of my own. And when it came it was magnificent, explosive waves of pleasure crashing through my body and washing away (for the moment anyhow) all the pain of my injured hip. It felt so good I almost cried afterward. Funny how something so simple can instantly make life brighter & sweeter. No matter how bad I might be hurting I could still wallow in the hedonistic pleasures of the flesh with my beautiful birthday girl. :)

---

I've mentioned a couple of times in this account that I'm not in top form. Shortly before xmas I did something to my hip which has kept me in more or less constant pain ever since. In retrospect I probably shouldn't have even tried to host a party in my condition; I suppose I thought it would surely be healed up by the time February rolled around. Anyway, the end result was that this party was a lot tamer than I'd meant it to be. Now, writing this, I can see that the x-rated action which did take place would have been wildest-fantasy material for a lot of sissies. Which I guess says something about what a lucky sissy slut tia really is. ;)

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.

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

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.

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.

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...

Happy Birthdayversary! (prelude)

First I guess I need to give y'all a little bit of backstory. Tia's birthday is on February 6th. And the first year we were together I put my collar on him on Feb. 4th. I meant it to be a birthday gift that year but he was traveling out of town that weekend for his brother's wedding. I didn't seriously think he was liable to meet some other dom and slip out of my clutches while he was away, but I wanted to mark him as MINE before I let him go anyway. So what with it being his birthday...and one of our anniversaries...and with Valentine's Day so close...well, it does tend to turn out to be a major event on our holiday calendar.

This year's a little different. We're even broker than usual; so broke that tia's having to move to a more economical place to live. We won't have our playroom anymore and truthfully the place he's moving to is kind of a dump. I know, because I'm the landlord. :p

(The reasons why Izzy & I happen to be in possession of a crappy old mobile home which will henceforth be referred to as Sandpit Manor are another story.)

Anyway, I wanted to do something REALLY special for this year's birthdayversary celebration. And I also wanted to somehow inject some joy into this move. There was this scheme I'd had in the back of my mind for a long, long time, and as soon as I knew for sure that he was moving into Sandpit Manor it occurred to me that NOW was the time for it. The following was written the evening of February 4th, 2012, as I prepared to put my long-anticipated plot into action...

---

Tonight’s the night.

I can’t remember when I first conceived this idea. I’ve certainly been holding it in the back of my mind for a long, long time. Waiting for the right moment. And this is SO the right moment.

You will surely want me to write about this weekend after it’s done*. (Assuming it all goes well of course. Which is something I’m not at all certain about.) And I will try to, I must try to. But I also thought it would be nice to record some of my thoughts beforehand. I’m bursting with excitement, walking around the house cackling and grinning to myself, and worse, I can’t talk to anybody about it. I can’t say anything in front of the kids…can’t tweet or post or you’ll see…my sense of decorum prohibits me divulging the juicy details to anyone but Izzy…and my sense of emo-avoidance prohibits me from going on and on about it to Izzy.

But omg this is…I guess this is a dream come true for me. I think (fear?) that I may enjoy it more than you do. I so want it to be incredible for you, leave you feeling swept away, captured, caged in a box where all the walls have my evil smile. And used, gloriously, hedonistically, in every possible way and then some used. I want this weekend to be so incredible that you will actually feel nostalgic about the graffiti’d walls and rotting paneling when they go.

I want your first experience in your new home to be once in a lifetime. In a good way.

I can’t remember when the idea first came to me. But I knew as soon as we committed to this move that NOW was the time. Now was the time for so many reasons: it’s dead cheap, which is a necessity for us right now. Sandpit Manor is in crappy shape, literally looking like a crackhouse – kind of perfect for the scene. And like I said, I desperately want to give you a good first impression.

(I know we’re working with a specialized definition of a good first impression here.)

And to make it all even better, it’s something I’m really really excited about doing. So excited that I suspect thinking about it has brought on my current ‘horny spell’! It’s like…it’s like this is the closest I’ve ever come to capturing the feelings aroused by my masturbatory fantasies. Like this is the closest I’ve ever come to having that kind of control. I don’t know if these are the right words; these feelings seem so fresh and new, I can’t really articulate what’s inside. (And ok, it doesn’t help that I’m trying to write this with major kiddus interruptus happening.)

I’ve been plotting with Izzy almost since it occurred to me that now was the time. And I’ve been scampering around like a madwoman today making my preparations. You, who are forever wishing that I was more Machiavellian, would be (will be!) delighted I think. I thought a lot about how best to bind you: quickly, but it needs to be something that feels serious. I hope the vet wrap does the trick. And it was a nice bonus that we already had some in the toy chest.

I consulted Izzy about using a weapon during the grab. He strongly advised me against using a real gun, even unloaded, just in case the authorities get involved inadvertently. And he didn’t want me borrowing any of his pretty bladed things; a sentiment I can’t disagree with knowing my own physical limitations. The thought of accidentally harming you is more than enough to make me forgo anything with a truly sharp edge. But I did buy a toy knife, and a toy gun. I don’t know which of them will have a more convincing feel but I’ve been having real interesting thoughts about both in the context of penetration play. *grin*

I also spent an hour today picking out different outfits to dress my pretty slave in. I only chose one “dominatrix” ensemble for myself. I want my chance to play dress-up too but I don’t want to spend the whole weekend that way! I will go for Mistressly comfort and delight in making you wear uncomfortably sexy things for me. I don’t intend to tell you this until the last possible minute but I packed some boy clothes for you too; I don’t really mean to make you go outside dressed in the extremely slutty garb I’ve selected for you to wear. And I packed some comic books for you, and a pack of your allergy medicine.

I also made a trip to the liquor store and got, among other things, a 6-pack of Killian’s Red. I think one of my most brilliant notions was the idea of feeding you bbq and beer…in a dog dish. *wickedgrin*

I guess I don’t need to note every single detail of my plans. You’ll be discovering them all in the flesh beginning in just a few hours. I just wanted to say a little bit about my scheming, and how much fun I’ve been having in the doing of it

---

* And I was right. Tia started pestering me to write an account of the experience as soon as I let him up for air. :p

Stay tuned for all the juicy details!

Getting It Out Of My System

Recently I've had my hours cut back at work to such an extent that its getting very difficult to get by. So I'm looking around for new or additional work, polishing up my resume, working on cover letters.

Dancing the Dance of Bullshit, as I like to call it. You know what I'm talking about--saying things like, "I am a results-driven team player who holds himself up to the highest standard..." yadda yadda yadda. Trying to talk in professional/corporate weenie-speak.

And I can't stand talking like that, so stuffy and dishonest and artificial.

So I have to get the following out of my system, the cover letter I WISH I could send these HR bastards. :P

Dear Sir or Madam:

I am interested in the XX position with your company.

I am currently living in a van down by the river, existing only upon my own body vermin that I share dwellings with. It isn’t pleasant. I don’t much care for it. I need a real job.

Actually, that’s a lie. I don’t want a job per se. Its work, isn’t it? If it was something I wanted to do, like cover several naked and blonde Valkyrie Goddesses with chocolate syrup and lick every glorious inch clean, that would be fun, and not work.

And since our society is so backward in that we only get paid for things that we really don't want to do, (i.e work), I come to you.

I’m sure you didn’t want your job either: let’s be honest with ourselves and say that we’re only in for the money--the root of all evil.

As much as I despise this capitalistic, money-grubbing, career ladder ascending society in which we live in I must confess that when you have to barbeque your own body lice to survive, there’s something to be said for an hourly wage. Drug dealers will not take credit, after all.

And, to make matters more urgent, the doctors say if I sell any more of my precious bodily fluids I might not make it, and so they won’t let me do it any more.

Hire me or I will follow you and hunt you down wherever you go. I will find what you love most in the world and kick it in the crotch. Your mother, your child, your dog, I don’t care. I’m eating goddamn fleas for crying out loud.

And when the grand glorious Revolution comes and the capitalist running dogs are put up against the wall and shot, I will put in a good word for you and thus keep you from being offed with the rest of the pigs. That is, if you give me this job I want. Or just the money. I don’t even need to come to the office, really, and considering the smell in this van you might not want me in the office anyway.

I can provide many glowing references from my current place of underpaid, underappreciated employment (I like to call it Hell), because there’s an office pool as to when I’ll snap and kill someone and I think they’ll say a lot of nice things just to see me go.

And if they don’t say anything nice, please, let me know. Someone might just win that pool after all.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,

Analysing my fetish, continued

Sometime in my late 20's I said to myself "fuck it; the only people I'm hurting are figments of my imagination". I decided that I deserved sexual satisfaction as much as anybody else, even if my fantasies WERE exactly what my feminist peers hated most. I decided that I was an honorable, ethical person, and that I did not need to live my life ruled by the moral exhortations of people who obviously cared more about controlling my thoughts than about my actual well-being. I decided that I wanted to fucking well enjoy my fantasies for a change.

And that was when understanding began to dawn on me. Before this point I would have insisted that I viewed these scenes from outside, as if watching a movie, and that I wasn't in any role. Now I could see that I was MUCH more interested in the aggressor's perspective, imagining in minute detail what they said, did, & felt. I realized first that I was not, in fact, ever interested in mentally playing the part of the victimized girl, but that I totally got into the part of the raping man. Or, more accurately, the role of the men. ALL of them, simultaneously. Which is impossible in the real world, yes? And so the second thing I realized was that the sheer physical impossibility of my fantasies was important to me. It was significant that my role in the scene was as the sort of big, hairy, masculine guy that I had no interest in being (or shagging). It was significant that I often mentally played the part of a whole GROUP of these guys. It was significant that I also loved things like Japanese tentacle porn which were equally impossible.

It would be easy to assume that my rape fantasies have male aggressors and female victims because we live in a culture where women are shat on. That IS the feminist party line, isn't it? Nowadays the dogma goes so far as to call this a "rape culture". (And that assumption was a HUGE part of why I felt unable to talk about my fetish with anyone. A huge part of why I still avoid talking about it.) But that explanation just doesn't ring true for me. As I said I grew up in a household headed by a strong woman who ruled over us all, including her husband. I was taught that girls could do anything they wanted to, including have free & satisfying sex lives, and that equality between the sexes was the order of the day. And I lived by that teaching too. For instance, in 99% of my relationships I've been the one who made the first move toward sex. Heck, I'm accustomed to making the first move even in asking for a date. And maybe I've been freakishly lucky but I've had dozens of male lovers and never yet encountered one who was NOT greatly interested in my pleasure. In my world women have always been free sexual agents.

So yeah, the idea that my mind fixed on these archetypes because of some underlying belief that woman=victim simply does not hold water. But we also live in a culture where MEN are presumed to be victimizers. Even the 'good guys' are supposedly only a hair's breadth from turning into predators at any time. That is the message sent by things like the ubiquitous falsehood "1 in 4 women will be sexually assaulted". It's the basis of the entire "rape culture" theory. And women, according to this dogma - the dogma that I grew up with, remember - are supposedly so morally superior that they would never, ever be sadistic rapists.

Take that message - that only men are capable of being sexually sadistic, and women are never rapists - and layer it with the usual prohibitions against ANY violence, and it hardly seems surprising that I might have had difficulty coming to terms with being a sexually sadistic woman. The funny thing is, I haven't ever really felt any of the agonizing guilt about 'abusing' people I like that seems so common with other doms. I figure its because my subconscious did this neat little trick, and turned my darkest fantasies into something that relied on it's own impossibility. I don't want to be a big, hairy, brutal guy. I don't want to be any guy. And thus on a very basic level I never worry that I'll go too far in realizing my dark dreams, because I never could!

This all makes even more sense when taking into account my disposition. If I had a D&D orientation it would be 'lawful good'. In a way you could say I play the role of an impossible villain because I can't imagine myself as the villain.

Now if all this sounds like I'm anti-feminist you've got the wrong idea. To repeat what I've said several times already - I grew up believing very strongly in the ideal of equality among all sexes/genders. I STILL HAVE those ideals. I think this sense of justice is at the heart of at least one part of my kink. But I've also had a pile of life experiences that've led me to doubt some of the feminist dogma I was taught. And in this case it makes a whole lot more sense to me to think of my fetish as being a response to negative messages I absorbed about men rather than negative messages I absorbed about women.

A self-protective twist of my subconscious elegantly accounts for the gender oddity in my fantasies. But I believe the core need expressed in them is a need for CONTROL. In many ways I was not in control when I was growing up. I guess this is true for every child, but perhaps more than usual in my family. And knowing the extent of my drive to control things (including non-sexual things) nowadays it makes perfect sense. My fantasies in the end are all about control.

And this final realization illuminates yet another facet of my fetish. You know how they say 'rape is not about sex, it's about control'? (Another one of those items of dogma I grew up with.) Well, in a way the girl in my fantasies IS also me, even while I consciously inhabit the role of the man/men. They are all symbolic figures constructed by my psyche. And the dramatic enactment of the rape itself symbolically represents me controlling my own sexuality.

That about sums it up for an analysis of my fetish. But it's really only the beginning of analyzing my sexuality. This entire essay has been about what was going on inside my head though the years; it says very little about my behaviors. It doesn't explain, for instance, how I got into sex work...how I became a domme...what I get out of forced feminization...or a lot of other things one might wonder about. This fetish is like the keystone of an arch: it's central to my sexuality but it's meaningless without all the other building blocks. I aim to try putting all the rest into words as well, but considering this bit took me weeks to compose I recommend not holding your breath in waiting for the next installment. :p