A Dominatrix Account

They don't only look effective - when the arms have work to do, sleeves get in the way. The belt is also of shiny black leather, with a silver coloured metal buckle. Of the same colour metal are a pair of handcuffs hanging from the belt. More black leather is strapped next to the handcuffs - a neatly coiled whip. It is for this, especially that the arms should not be emcumbered. There is no shortage of transvestites who would like to meet the vision of a dominatrix. At least some of them would like to be her, but I go further - I am her. At first sight, there seems little mystery in the connection many of us make between transvestism and submission or domination. Our clothes define our role. For the transvestite they are obviously important in defining who is masculine, who is feminine. It is but a step further to define who is dominant and who is submissive.

Submissive

Some forms of clothing, especially uniforms, give one person authority over another. Military uniforms are a good example. The clothes an officer and a private wear are essential to their relationship - the officer's uniform marks the wearer as someone who may issue orders to the person in the private's uniform.

There are uniforms popular with transvestites which work in much the same way. The most commonly found are the schoolgirl and the maid - both of these have proved good sellers for such companies as Transformation. No doubt they are to be found in many a transvestite's wardrobe.

It is interesting, and may be significant, that the most easily available uniforms are for the submissive roles. Since such companies as Transformation respond to public demand, this obviously means that submissive uniforms are more popular than dominant ones.

Before me are the catalogues of three companies offering such outfits as maid's and schoolgirl uniforms. One catalogue also includes a harem outfit. Another has a range of little girls' party dresses in adult sizes. None of the three includes a policewoman's uniform, or anything else suggesting the dominant.

I know a tranvestite who wished to assemble a headmistress outfit - an obvious counterpart to the schoolgirl one. Unable to find exactly what was required in the stocks of fantasy clothing specialists, the person in question went to a supplier of genuine academic regalia to universites.

If this indicates that people regarding themselves as submissive outnumber those preferring a dominant role, it does no more than confirm my experience. This is certainly least as true amongst transvestites. Many of them may turn out to be a lot less submissive than they seem - but I'll come back to that later.

Connection

The link betwen uniforms and sub/dom is no mystery. However, people in realistic-looking fantasy uniforms seem to be in the minority on the sub / dom scene. At any club catering for such interests, you'll find most of the devotees in leather or rubber, with a few opting for PVC.

I recently picked up a flyer for something called Club Whiplash. The name says it all - or almost so. Apart from paying to get in, the flyer's only demand on members is how they may dress; "VERY STRICT DRESS ONLY, Rubber, Leather, Lingerie, PVC" - no mention of uniforms.

There is, of course, some overlap between uniforms and the kind of dress demanded by Club Whiplash. Rubber/PVC maid's uniforms are certainly available. Mostly, however, the rubber and leather clothing remains quite seperate from the uniform items. Most of the rubber wear being sold - and worn - is not uniform, and most fantasy uniforms are not rubber or leather.

The connection between rubber / leather and sub / dom is less easy to explain, but is very strong. There may be a direct connection between some rubber garments and bondage - being encased in tight stretchy rubber is only a step away from being tied up.

Likewise, leather is a traditional material for harnesses. Not only is it used for harnessing horses, but also - at least when I was a child - for reins used to restrain young children. I wonder how many children so restrained grew up to have a liking for being harnessed in leather?

These considerations, however, fail to explain a number of things. One is that while many rubber garments fit like a second skin, not all of them do. There is a considerable body of interest in mackintoshes, for example. Nor is there any correlation between looser and tighter fitting garments and the submissive or dominant roles.

Both rubber and leather are worn by the dominatrix and the submissive partner alike. True, there is often a distinction between the garments proper to the two roles - but that distinction is often not as clear as might be expected.

Amongst rubber devotees, the submissive parties are known as "damsels in distress." In reality, the "damsels" are often male. Transvestism in rubber is nearer the rule than the exception.

Historic

A "damsel" may be in a mackintosh or tightly encased in Latex. Likewise, the person responsible for the "distress" may be dressed either way. Indeed, either or both of them may combine both forms of rubber.

That said, there are garments proper only to one role or the other. Rubber masks containing inflatable gags or other devices restricting the ability to breathe are strictly for submissives. Masks leaving the nostrils and mouth clear, resembling those worn by historic executioners or torturers, are for the dominant partner.

Other items strictly for the submissive partner include those exposing, encasing or entering the wearer's private parts. (In so far as any of their parts remain private!) These include rubber shorts open at the crotch, with a built-in penis sheath, or with an integral dildo. Similarly for submissives are garments equipped with D-rings or fixings for restraints.

For lovers of rubber and leather alike, high stiletto heels are pretty well essential for both the submissive party and the dominatrix. They are suitable for the submissive, perhaps, because they make it more difficult to walk - and much more difficult to run. They may possibly be seen as dominant because of their suitability as weapons. Having a stiletto pressed hard into the flesh is an extremely painful experience.

Turning to leather, the items worn by submissives are more likely to consist of straps (like harnesses) than are the garments worn by the dominatrix, but arrangements of leather straps can feature in the clothing of the dominatrix as well. In her case, they are likely to leave less of the body uncovered. This is probably the main distinction on a superficial level.

Sometimes, similar straps have entirely different purposes. For example, the submissive may have leather straps at the wrist for use in binding or fettering, or for support when using the whip.

Indeed, these are very useful - cracking the whip can put a lot of strain on the wrist joint. Similar supports are worn by tennis players, archers, and others. It's a question of avoiding sports injuries.

In all of this, the whip is bound to arise (and fall). A means of hurting your partner is an essential part of the experience. The submissive must surrender to the dominatrix. If that surrender doesn't include the power to inflict a little pain, it doesn't mean very much.

Actually, a lot of so-called submission doesn't mean a great deal. Many who call themselves submissives, not least transvestites, want to lay down all sorts of conditions. The more conditions they make, the less they submit. It can easily become a waste of time for all concerned.

Whether they realise it or not, laying down conditions makes the experience less satisfactory for the submissive partner as well as for the dominant. There is some point in having an emergency signal which will enable the submissive to bring the session to a close - it can be used to stop things getting out of hand, but the signal should only be given in the most extreme circumstances.

The essence of submission is letting go. Someone else takes charge. The submissive can, in a real sense, relax. It may be painful relaxation, but is none the less relaxing for that.

Submissive

Viewed thus, it is little wonder that there are more people eager to submit than dominate. It should also be clear that any effort to take charge (on the part of the submissive) defeats the object of the exercise. Yet they will try to control the situation. They deserve a good whipping - or perhaps they'll have to do better before they truly deserve one.

Near, the start I mentioned both the whips and the handcuffs. The latter, or any form of tying or chaining, can be a big help in allowing a submissive to let go. Hands cuffed behind the back is not a good position for laying down conditions. Being held securely at each wrist and ankle is even less good for it.

Binding is very useful in a submissive's progress, but it requires trust. Indeed, the trust in one's dominatrix is in itself a liberating experience. But that trust is not to be gained instantly.

It is easiest to take things a step at a time. It's better to start with tying rather than chaining or handcuffing. However difficult it may be to cut through stout cord (especially with hands tied) it looks a lot less threatening than with a chain.

Better also, to start with the hands tied in front, rather than behind the back. This leaves the submissive feeling less helpless - and with some justification. Likewise, it is a good idea to have the submissive become accustomed to bound wrists before passing on to binding the ankles as well - or to binding to a fixed or heavy object.

I knew a girl who wouldn't take on the role of dominatrix because she thought the submissive was really in charge - and the dominatrix was serving the submissive rather than vice versa. Badly handled, things can work out that way. The submissive requires careful training - for benefits of both partners.

It is also a good idea to set the submissive to some useful work. Obviously, this can't be done during periods of highly restrictive binding - but work can be done, for example, with hands cuffed and attached to a wall by a few yards of chain. It is good to have someone else attend to the chores. Also - it helps to establish who is slave and who is mistress.

Sensitivity

This distinction may not be as clear and obvious as one might expect. In some sub / dom relationships the partners swap roles from time to time. They may even adopt a roughly 50 / 50 division of the submitting and dominating.

Moreover, even when the roles are distinct, it is a truism that one cannot dominate properly until one has learnt to submit. The role of dominatrix calls for a great deal of sensitivity - it's certainly not just a matter of tying them up and whipping them.

It needs to be stated that truly fulfilling sub / dom is essentially a loving relationship. Failure to realise this leaves many sub / dom experiences deeply unsatisfying. The dominatrix must give - and understand what she is giving; the submissive must trust completely - and surrender utterly.

The dominatrix's pleasure - and skill - depends on knowing how it feels to be tied, helpless, in that position. In knowing how the caress of the lash feels - now gentle, almost tickling; now severe, most definitely painful.

Submission and domination is a shared experience. A shared pleasure. To work properly it is love.

Most couples do it, anyway. It is part of love's game to use the teeth. Sometimes gently. Sometimes biting hard.

The use of whips and chains takes that experience a stage further, a stage closer to the ultimate love. However hard I strike, I do it with love.

Love and my spike heeled boots - painful combination. But what could be more exquisite?

Chris was just a little late on puberty, being 13 years old and not experiencing it yet. Consequently, he was a bit confused about his sexuality. Most of his friends were already going out with girls at school, while he still couldn't relate to the fascination of young girls bodies. He knew he definitely wasn't turned on by boys bodies... the only thing that ever gave him an erection was watching his older sister Janet getting dressed. It wasn't so much her body that turned him on as the clothes she wore. Seeing her delicately lift her pantyhose to the toes of her feet, then slowly, elegantly sliding them up over her feet, up her legs, until the waistband hugged her hips and the center seem kissed her crotch. Observing her hands deftly strapping a bra around her firm, round breasts. Watching slim, stocking-clad feet slip into bright red high-heeled shoes. These were the things that aroused his sexuality. Chris always wanted to try on her clothes, but his frame was a little smaller and he knew they wouldn't fit him nearly as well as they did his sister. Then one day, something happened. He came across a picture of himself as a two-year-old, with Janet at ten years old standing near him. His mom had dressed him in a little blue shirt, but from the waist down he was clad in bright red tights. They were the same color as the tights his sister was wearing. All of the sudden Chris felt his penis stiffen and throb, confusion beginning to cloud his mind. He had erections before, but this time it was different. A shiver went up the spine, heartbeats quickened slightly, and a strange tingling, tight feeling engorged his penis. He stood up, and hurried off into the attic in a state of confusion, not knowing what was going on. There were several dressers in the darkness, lit partially by a window at the far end of the room. The attic was spooky without anyone else around--Chris almost never went up there alone. But something called out in his subconscious. Look around. Quickly. Open the drawers. Search.

    In about twenty minutes, all of the dresser drawers had been opened, odd clothes were strewn about the floor. Then something caught Chris' eyes. With the bottom drawer of the big mahogany, bureau pulled out, space beneath was exposed that revealed a shiny red garment. He reached in and grabbed it. It was soft, stretchy, and very slippery. Held at full length, it had the shape of a body, from neck to toe, with long sleeves and a small zipper in the back. What was it? Like tights and a leotard joined together, but no seams except along the arms and up the inner legs. A full-body unitard. He dropped them. What a strange feeling! Like doing something wrong, yet so compelled to indulge. In a brief moment, Chris had all of his clothes off and he sat on the cool floor. The air had a slight chilling effect, causing a tingling sensation across his skin. The zipper of the unitard slid down easily, revealing the inviting insides of the lycra garment. He rolled up the right side and pulled it onto his right foot, covering the toes the way Janet put on her pantyhose. Swiftly and eagerly, the spandex slid upwards, a snug fit to the upper thigh. He repeated the same with the left side, his crotch throbbing steadily. Standing up, Chris gave a firm but gentle tug, and the whole lower half of the unitard covered him up to his waist, a soft smooth snug feeling all over. He darted both hands through the arms, reached behind, and pulled up the zipper. Ohhhh..... The light from the window danced across his body, and he could see himself in a mirror on the adjacent wall. There stood a young boy, clad so snugly in red lycra from neck to toe. At this point, Chris had trouble containing himself. Hormones coursed through his body, tingling sensations shot up the spine, and a compelling tight feeling surged through his maleness. How could something feel so good?? Both hands raced all over, taking in the stretchy smoothness of the lycra encased about him. He laid down and hugged himself gently, drenched in ecstasy. Moments passed. "Chris? Oh, Chris! Where are you?" It was his mother calling. Oh no! She couldn' find him like this. What would she think?? He laid perfectly still, not to make a noise. Her voice came closer, approaching. Suddenly, he noticed that the attic door was slightly open. Certainly, that would lure her to open it further and look inside! "Chris??" His mother was only a few feet away now. But suddenly Chris was distracted. He felt a little odd, the unitard was slightly tighter around him somehow. And it got worse. The lycra seemed to have a life of its own, pulling, stretching, almost seeking to embed itself in his skin. He wanted to cry out! "Chris?? Where are you? Humph! I could've sworn he came up here after school." A hand reached for the door handle, casting a dim shadow onto the attic floor, right beside a limber leg completely covered in red lycra. Chris felt hot flashes waving across his body. He began to shake slightly, a tight tingling sensation welling deeply in his penis. He felt like he was going to explode in a sexual fervour, like never before. Thunk! The door closed. Footsteps walked off, downstairs. His mother was gone. Shiver! Tremble! He couldn't control his body. Crotch pulsating, nipples pinching, skin crawling. As if he had been punched in the stomach, Chris doubled over and moaned. His voice cracked, caught between boyhood and puberty, then smoothed with a feminine sigh.

  Something was wrong. It felt as if the nipples on his chest were swollen. What happened? He reached down between his legs, hands sliding over the red lycra, to find that his penis was gone! Small thin lips running up and down, a small bump on the top that tingled with a touch, was all that was left. His hands felt smaller, his legs were thin, feet smaller. He touched himself more, only to finally realize that he had lost something--his boyhood. He now had the body of a girl! Christine, not Chris. Her vagina pulsated, fresh from the transformation, eager to be loved. In a confused daze, she slowly brought her hand to it and stroked softly. Her newfound girlhood called for more. She pressed firmly between the lips of her vagina, massaging the clitoris. More, faster, firmly! Her head turned to the side and she caught sight of herself in the mirror. In spite of the shock, she could see how lovely her new body was. Sweet long legs stretched out to the sides, pretty feet pointed outward, small breasts with nipples perked tightly. Her hand rubbed more briskly as her eyes stared back in anticipation. A quivering began, deep inside, like she never felt before. Like the rumble of a tidal wave, pleasure quaked through her body. The red lycra body danced in the dark, to a tune of newfound sexuality. Christine gave out long deep moans with each repeating orgasm until she was completely spent, her love juices darkening the unitard between the legs. Her heavy breathing relaxed, giving way to slow soothing sighs. She rested and thought about her new predicament. What would she do, now that she was no longer a boy? She giggled, revealing a peaceful smile. What did it matter? She never felt better before in her whole life. The End

AN UNEXPECTED CHANGE

Younger Crossdressers

First, here’s a little of my history for you to compare your experience with.

I first crossdressed when I was 5 years old–I put on an old blouse and skirt and hid under the bed covers. My mother discovered me, and, looking a little confused, told me that I shouldn’t do that.

I didn’t dress again for several years, but the desire was always there. When I watched television I constantly hoped to see a crossdressing character or theme. Many cartoons had crossdressing scenes, which I loved.

I thought often about being a girl. My idea of heaven was a place where you could just look at a picture of a girl and you would wake up in that scene as her.

I had a fantasy of a machine that would turn me into a girl: I’d enter at one end onto a conveyer belt, and would go through various steps until I emerged as a girl at the other end.

I often prayed at night to wake up the next morning as a girl. I would sometimes dream I was a girl. In the dreams I would be wearing a dress or walking down the street with a cute pony-tail. I’d try to hold onto the feeling of these dreams for as long as possible. When I was aware that I was dreaming, I’d try to control the scene into one where I was a girl.

I never felt that I *was* a girl or a girl trapped in a man’s body. I just strongly wanted to *become* a girl. As a boy I did reasonably well. Though shy and anxious, I was smart and got attention for that. The older boys scared me, but I was able to defend myself against the bullies my own age.

In high school I started to dress again,”borrowing” my sisters’ clothes from the dirty-clothes bin or from her bedroom, and occasionally my mothers’ lingerie.

Then there was no internet–if there had been, I don’t know what would have happened.

In college I was too busy to crossdress, and dorm rooms offered no privacy anyway. But I did smoke marijuana, and, when I did, the fantasy emerged. Both during high school and college, I never dated girls (or anyone else).

I graduate school I was again very busy, but I did have girlfriends. When they were gone I would sometimes wear their clothes, which felt really nice.

So that’s my history during my young years. There’s no need here to talk about later stuff here, except to say that now I basically crossdress once a week or every couple of weeks to go out. The rest of the time I spend as a guy.

This is just to let you know where I’m coming from. Anyway, the important topic is you, not me.

If you are a young crossdresser–especially if you are experiencing a lot of confusion or unhappiness about it, then here are some things to consider. You have friends You are not alone in this! It might seem like Life has singled you out for abuse. But there’s a lot of other people out there feeling the same thing. And all those who have had a difficult time share a special bond. They recognize, and feel an instinctive responsibility to help each other. The best way to express this is the lines from a song:

I made it through the rain, I kept my world protected.

I made it through the rain, and kept my point of view.

I made it through the rain, and found myself respected by the others who, got rained on too.

and made it through.

This too will pass The teens and early twenties are perhaps the most stressful, anxious times in life. It’s amazing how many problems go away by themselves within a few years.

If you’re being harassed, don’t worry about it. By the time you’re in college or the workplace, it stops. Other people eventually mature and have other things on their minds–they’re really not much interested in picking on other people.

In general, things get better as you get older. Even if all the problems don’t go away, they feel much less overwhelming. You develop patience and even a sense of humor. You can say, “Is life absurd? Very well, life is absurd–maybe it’s supposed to be that way.” And then you can deal with it on those terms.

The real problem is that we like to believe life runs smoothely. Then, if something goes wrong, we get upset. In other words, it isn’t life’s difficulties that upset us so much–it’s that our world view of “everything is supposed to be fine” get’s shaken, and that’s what upsets us.

About this the Buddha said “Life is very difficult. Once you understand that, life becomes easier.” Accept uncertainty Maybe you don’t know if you are a boy or a girl–or which path to take. And this makes you anxious.

Okay. Who says that you’re supposed to know? The anxiety comes not from the confusion, but because you think you’re supposed to have an answer. Accept that you don’t have an answer. Maybe you won’t have one for a while. That’s okay. Suicide A statistical law of the universe is that things move toward the average. That means if things are really bad, they will tend to get better by themselves.

There’s no point doing something desperate like suicide. Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Think about that. You are important You were put on this earth for some very important reason. You probably don’t know now what that reason is–in fact, you might never know. But you can be sure that there is a reason. Other people need you–they need your concern; they need your support; they need your help.

Understanding that is a big key to life. As long as we dwell on our own problems, we’re never happy. The reason is because as a social species, human beings are designed to help each other.

To paraphrase John F. Kennedy’s words, “Ask not what others can do for you; ask what you can do for others.” Once you realize that, a huge and impossible burden is lifted from you– that of worrying about yourself!

Nobody can see their own life objectively. However, we’re really pretty good at sensing another person’s problems; and can truly help them, because we’re objective about their problems. Don’t believe everything other people say Black-and-white thinking is a big problem. These days it seems like there are two extreme views about transgenderism. Religious fundamentalists say ‘queer’ is completely bad, whereas most transsexuals and crossdressers say it’s completely good.

Most people have the sense to dismiss the first view, but, unfortunately, few see the shallowness of the second view. The view that “if it feels good, do it” has itself become a religion.

The truth is that “moderation in all things” and “finding the middle path” are still good ways to go. There’s no need to be all one thing–all male or all female; all hetero or all gay. It’s a mistake to think like that. Taking the harder path

Short-term pleasure is seldom the sign of a right choice.

So, for example, taking hormones, and plunging into a femme lifestyle might seem very attractive. In fact, it is attractive, in the sense that it offers sensual pleasure. But that doesn’t not make it the right or smart choice. For one thing, as noted above, part of life is to learn that you don’t just exist for your own sake. You’re here for a reason, and a big part of that reason is to help other people. So in making decisions, you have to consider not just what makes “me” feel good now, but what will make me feel good in the long term, and what choice will benefit other people.

I don’t mean being a martyr or making yourself miserable by helping other people all the time. No, I’m definitely saying being happy yourself. I’m just suggesting that part of true happiness is going to involve helping other people. Keep your options open

However old people are, they feel like they know everything. Everybody is like that.

If you look back to yourself 5 years earlier, it’s clear you know more now. The same will be true 5 years from now: you’ll know more, and, looking back to now, you might smile to think how confident you were and how much you didn’t know.

That is one reason to be cautious about making limiting decisions. A few transsexuals report being *completely* certain they are a girl from early childhood; but more often, transgenders merely have the intense desire to be a girl. Or some look at their female fantasies, and from these they infer “apparently I am a female and not a male.”

In the first case–utter certainty–then perhaps it makes sense to pursue Hormone Replacement Therapy and Sexual Reassignment Surgery. But in the other cases that must be strongly questioned.

It used to be that only the first group were considered candidates for a sex change. But gradually the standards have become increasingly lax, thanks mainly to a social climate of laxness. Now some people embark on a change of sex just on a whim.

That just doesn’t make sense. Human nature is such that each person has many conflicting desires. One has to balance these desires. When you feel you want to be a girl, that may seem like it’s coming from your very core. However, in a week or two, the wish may be weaker, and other aspects of your personality may be dominating. The fact that a wish might seem very strong does not mean that is who you really are. It’s just one wish among many parts of your personality.

Young crossdressers may feel pressured to use feminizing hormones, knowing that the earlier they use them, the more complete the feminization will be.

A big problem is that these hormones can and do cause infertility. You may not have an interest in “fathering” children. But as you get older that feeling might develop.

Further, you might be mainly attracted to girls. If you adopt a female gender, possibly you could find a compatible woman somewhere. But in truth, your odds of finding someone are much better if you have a male gender.

Think of it this way. What attracts you to a girl? Most likely you like a pretty, feminine girl, not an unattractive, very “butch” type. The same works for girls. Most are attracted to male-looking guys, and not attracted to guys who look like and dress like girls.

One of the advantages with being a guy, in fact, is that you can meet this need of girls. You can be her “man”, her protector and provider. Self-destructive behavior Many aspects of the TG and gay scene are plainly self-destructive. Consider clubs, for instance. People to go nightclubs where everybody’s smoking and drinking. The drag shows don’t even start until midnight, and people don’t get home until 3:00 or 4:00 am. It takes days to recover. And some people do this more than once a week!

This kind of stuff is really dumb. Morality is not obsolete So regardless of what you choose–to be male, female or both; to be hetero-, gay, or both– you need to chose in a sincere way and with an aim to do the right thing. These days people are brainwashed to believe “it’s all relative; there is no ultimate right or wrong.” That’s a self-serving view, used by people to justify their own choices.

Morality is not obeying a set of rules. It’s making a concerted effort to find out what is the right thing and to do it. The bigger part of that is recognizing and avoiding self-deception. Counseling Counseling can help. Yeah, I know what you’re saying–counseling is crock! Well, it certainly can be that. But there are a few good counselors.

But counselling really works when the energy is coming from you. You have to genuinely want to understand yourself. It takes effort. The counselor is just a tool for you to use to help understand yourself.

There are many bad counsellors, but there are good ones, too. You have to be prepared to screen several counsellors to find a good one. If one treats you like an object and not a person, find another.

One thing you can always do is to read a lot. There’s almost no limit to how much you can learn about yourself just by reading–though few people take advantage of this.

Reading can bring you to the gate of understanding, which a counsellor can help you pass through. But without reading, you don’t get to the gate, and counselling can’t do much except give you emotional support (although sometimes that alone is needed).

In fact, reading is probably more important than counseling, but doing both is better still. Enjoy life Well, just so I don’t seem like a wet blanket, I want to emphasize that’s it good and important to enjoy life. It’s true, I limit my crossdressing to part time. But I make a point to enjoy myself while I’m doing it.

There’s lot’s of other things to enjoy too–fresh air and exercise, a beautiful day, friends, music, etc.

Sometimes we blow our problems out of proportion. Enjoying the good things in life helps us get them back into perspective.

Our Privacy Policy

Transformation Ltd, Mapleleaf House, 413 Bury Old Rd, Prestwich, Manchester, M25 1PS, UK

Here I am with my plum colored hair in a feminine cut and style. I have full make-up on, mascara, permanent eyelashes, lipstick, eye make-up, fully made up. With my permanent arched eyebrows it’s so obvious that this is not a one-time dress-up. If anyone sees me that will know that I’m being femmed up for life. My little maid’s cap is perched on my coiffed hair. I have super glued posts in one set of my ears, it cannot be removed and every few days my ears are checked to be sure that the glue isn’t coming loose. If this happens I have to mince and get more glue for Sarina to re-apply.

I have on the frilliest panties, lace all-around with fishnets today. Other days I wear various stockings or pantyhose. 4-inch patent leather pumps are the usual shoes when I’m in my maid’s attire. With lots of toe cleavage are on my feet. Sometimes Sarina likes to glue them on if she feels that I’m being lazy and I try to sneak them off.

I have on a lace-up bustier, with my glued on breasts. And this is covered with a black satin maid’s dress. With lace on the hem, puffy sleeves and peasant collar. I have the ultimate addition for embarrassment. It’s a crinoline full petticoat that fits around my waist. This puffs my dress out so that you can see my panties, and my stocking tops. Permanent glued nails with rings and of course the maid lacy gloves are on my arms. I have a little frilly choker around my neck as well. Its so over the top that its really girly for even a girl.

I have to go to the mall looking like this. I pull into the parking lot and wiggle in to J.C.Penny’s. Because it s a few days before Halloween, all the female clerks giggle and laugh and are so complimentary on my outfit. I tread the humiliation when I have to go shopping again next week and the weeks to come in the maid’s outfit and they realize that I’m a sissy and completely under my wife’s control. I have to take the escalator and buy several items, mince out to the parking lot and go to my next assignment. Here I am going to a Convenience store.

After I buy my wife’s lunch and pick her up. She orders me to go in and buy a paper and some candy. A woman across from where we are parked calls out and comments on my shoes. I have to tell her that my wife dresses me like this all the time, she giggles and says she wishes she could get her own husband to dress like that.

Next stop after I drop off my wife is a liquor store, there everyone looks and laughs and the cashier loved my shoes, she makes comments about my plucked, thin arched brows and she tells me that she can tell that this is a serious outfit, and that it looks like I’m dressed like this for some time. I smile and tell her that this is what I have to wear to go out shopping and I have to get used to it. I have a young man carry the case of beer out to the car. He laughs and tells me that I look good in the outfit.

Then I go to a card store to buy some tape and it is filled with women. The getting out of the car, straightening my skirt, and walking across the parking lot, or anywhere in these heels its so embarrassing. You have to take little steps and wiggle to get anywhere.

There are at least 6 women in the store when I mince through the door. Besides the 2 working there who giggle and smile when they see my sissy outfit. Everyone comments on my shoes and dress. They all think I look cute. What will they think when I have to go back in a few weeks, still in my maid’s dress, with the heels clicking along the cement and me wiggling into the store trying not to look too embarrassed as I buy a card.

Sarina tells me after a while I will not be so humiliated. I will get used to being a maid. She is looking forward to my cleaning and running her errands and knowing that I am sitting at home waiting for her. When she comes in I have to curtsey and take her coat.

And every time I enter and leave a room I have to curtsey each time. I cannot sit down except in the kitchen. I have to do all the cooking, make the meals etc and of course clean each room in my outfit. Sometimes sleep in panties and stockings and the one of the most embarrassing is wearing a tampon when my wife gets her period. I have to change it when I go to the bathroom. And I also must wear the panty liners as well. I have to experience all the problems that females have.

I am so worried when I have to go into the food store this weekend, days after Halloween and shop for the groceries. It will be so embarrassing. Will I ever get used to being in the outfit wiggling around town on my days off?

THE CHANCE

So at 7 o'clock I was standing at the station, track 12, and I wore a white pullover, a black hat, and had a book in my hands. I waited... By 7:15 I was convinced that, as expected, this whole thing was a joke, when suddenly a woman came up to me on the bench where I sat and spoke to me: "Jennifer?"

That was all the information that I had available. Now I had the torment of making a choice, and I had to decide for myself, which criteria were most important to me. I asked myself, what I was really imagining. One important point was height. I didn't want to be all that short, and red hair wasn't for me in anyway. That left candidate one out. The brunette followed a short time later, because somehow I couldn't identify with her face and her breasts were also a bit too large for me. Each of the two blondes made a good impression, maybe I felt a tendency for candidate two.

Now I tried to move my legs and this went well, too, so that I was soon sitting up. In that motion feelings registered between my legs for the first time. But I didn't want to touch this place with my hands yet.

HER SISSY

It wasn’t that she was tired of me or the life we had created for ourselves, it was more that she wanted to be in control.

That she knew what she wanted almost made it worse, because she didn’t know how to go about getting it. Oh sure there were times when she felt the way she wanted to feel. She felt that kind of power and control when she would tease me so that I was almost ready to come, then she would make me beg her to let me fuck her.

She had been thinking about those times when she had taken the dominate role and after a bit of thinking she started to realize just how easy it was for her to get me to submit to her.

Kelly was a bright girl and she gave the whole thing quite a bit of mulling over. In fact she had even conducted a couple of experiments over the last two weeks. Once she refused to let me come until I had tounged her to numerous climax’s. Another time she had pretended to be upset with me and after telling me over and over how bad I had been she got me to agree to letting her spank me.

She couldn’t think of a better demonstration of my submissiveness then to be bending over while I held my dress or skirt up around my hips so that she could spank my now defenseless ass cheeks, unless it was what she was planning on doing to me.

She hoped that forcing me to listen as she told me how much she enjoyed punishing me would make me eager to let her do it to me any time she wanted. “Yes, I think that out of all of the things we have done together, I enjoyed spanking you ilke a naughty little girl more then anything else!” She told me. She smerked when I told her that I was glad that she enjoyed it. “Any time I can be part of something that you enjoyed doing I feel like I’ve done something nice for you.” I told her, then I added, “If there’s anything else that you think you would enjoy doing don’t hesitate to try it. Just go ahead and tell me what you want me to do.”

“Really?” she asked, sounding as if she didn’t believe me. “You just go ahead and tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.” I told her. She smiled and then told me that she wanted me to be her slave so that I HAD to do what she told me to do.

“Then consider me your slave.” I told her. “And I’ll just assume that I have to comply with anything you want of me.” She looked at me for a moment, then she ordered me to spread my legs so that my balls were completely accessable for her. I swallowed hard and then slowly moved my legs apart until they formed a wide Vee.

She nodded as she slid her hand up between my upper thighs. “I love to think that they are hanging like they are and just waiting for me to decide what I want to do to them.” She told me.

“They are.” I said. “You own my balls as well as everything else if I’m your slave.” I told her.

“That’s right.” She said with a smile. “And that would mean that I had a perfect right to do anything I wanted to them. Anything at all!” She closed her fingers around the two small nuggets. “What I want to do to my balls is make them hurt!” She said wickedly. She then crushed them aginst each other as she made her fingers form into a fist.

I doubled up and groaned as my tummy was gripped by strong cramps. “Oh yes. I can tell that they hurt.” She gasped as she squeezed them even tighter. My hands pressed into my tummy as I fought to catch my breath.

“Spread your legs wider slave, as wide as you can!” She ordered. I heard her laugh when I opened my legs as wide as they could go. “Yes, now I can do anything I want to them.” She said. “Even smash them under one of my knee’s!” She added as she slid one leg up between mine.

She released her grip, then raised up slightgly. When she lowered herself down I felt her hard knee start to flatten them under it. Once again I was doubled up from the way she was abusing my balls.

“God, they feel as if they just flattened right out like squashed pancakes.” She sqealed, then she lifted off of them. “If your my slave and I own your body, then I also own your asshole!” She exclaimed with a chuckle.

But all and all she still wasn’t sure how to go about doing what she thought she wanted to do. That is until my birthday started to get close. She had purchased a new monitor for my computer and she decided to hide it in the garage.

There were a number of boxes of old paperwork and such and she felt that one more box wouldn’t be noticed. The Friday before my birthday she got home several hours before me and she went out with the idea of moving things around so that she could stash her present in an inconspicuious spot.

Most of the things were covered with dust and such and she quickly got fed up with trying to make it look like nothing had been disturbed. Finally she had had it and shoved several boxes to one side so there would be room for hers, but when they landed on the garage floor she was suprised by what spilled out.

From her perch on the ladder she could clearly see all kinds of womens clothing. After a closer inspection she knew that these things weren’t just a bunch of old discarded garments. Some of the blouses and other pieces were up to date styles. In fact she found a slip that she knew was part of Vanity Fairs newest line.

With a growing curiousity she looked through the two boxes of lingerie, dresses, skirts and blouses. She even found a fair number of almost new high-heels in the second box along with a very complete collection of make-up.

She was still a little confused when she picked up the small square booklet, but her confusion didn’t stay with her very long as she glanced at the photographs that were inside. I had been crossdressing since the age of 12 or so and although I had tried to stop, I found that I couldn’t. I had never told her about it and dressed up only when she was away. Over the years there had been some pictures friends had taken of me when I was completely dressed and made-up.

She was not only suprised to learn about this part of me, but she was also suprised to see that I made a very good looking woman. As she glanced at the photo’s a smile began to appear on her face, a smile that kept growing bigger and bigger.

After putting the boxes back like they were she put the computer monitor in her car so she could return it. She had a better idea about what she should get me for my birthday then that.

That weekend she went out of her way to be a tease. She would flash me her fanny and more of her breasts then she usually exposed and at night she would eagerly engage in fourplay, but we didn’t seem to ever get around to having sex. She wanted me to be as fustrated and horny as she could make me when my birthday came.

The same thing continued to happen that Monday and Tuesday and by Wednesday morning I had an almost permanent erection. I was just finishing my cup of coffee before going to work when she came into the kitchen and informed me that she had called my work and told them that I was sick.

“In fact.” She said gleefully. “I told them that you probably wouldn’t be in until next week.” Now it was my turn to be suprised as she took my hands and pulled to my feet. She led me into the spare bedroom, then told me take off all of my clothes.

“I bought you several new outfits for your birthday.” She said. Her playful attitude was contagious and I was starting to have a good time just getting undressed. She took each piece as I removed it, including my shoes and my watch. She told me to wait where I was, then disappeared through the doorway.

I didn’t know what to think when she returned empty handed, but she didn’t give me much time to think about it because she stood right in front of me and started to take off her clothes as well. After slipping off her high heels she slipped her hands under her dress and skillfully pushed her pantyhose down off of her legs.

She left them laying on the floor by her feet as she did the same with the pair of brightly flowered panties she was wearing. Only instead of letting them fall to the floor she made sure that they hadn’t goten turned inside out and then she held them out in my direction.

“I thought you might like to wear some of my things!” She said knowingly, then she added. “In fact I know that you would like to wear them!” She stared at me while she continued to hold her panties out for me to take.

Inside I was almost out of control at the prospect of her dressing me up in her feminine garments, but I tried not to let it show. “I don’t understand.” I said as I took her panties into my hand.

She planted her hands on her hips, then narrowed her brow. “Don’t you give me any of that crap!” She said sternly. “I know all about you and I know that your nothing but a little sissy at heart.” She swung her hips back and forth in an exagerated feminine movement.

“And I also know all about your dressing up in girls clothes!” She said matter of factly. This caused me to almost go into shock and I stood and stared at her, not saying a word. “Now, you be a good girl and do what I tell you to do so I don’t have to punish you!”

She said in a stern voice she outright ordered me into her panties. “Now put those panties on right now!” She stamped her foot just to make sure I knew she was serious. She wanted to jump with excitment when she saw me hold her panties open and then step into them, but she remained like she was as I pulled them up my legs and passed my hips.

As soon as I had done that she unzipped her dress far enough that she could pull her arms free. “After you put on your bra your going to go into the bathroom and shave all that hair off of your legs!” She said as she unfastened the clasp so that the lace and satin bra slid down her arms. Just like she had done with her panties she held it out. I was still dazed as I gingerly took it from her. I pulled it around me and hooked it together, then pulled the straps up onto my shoulders.

She stepped closer to me and started to adjust the straps so it fit me. “I noticed you didn’t have any trouble getting it fastened closed!” She said in a teasing voice. “You must have had plenty of practice.” She added.

Once she was satisfied with how she had adjusted the straps she pointed toward the bathroom. “Now go shave off all that ugly hair.” She ordered, then she said. “Young ladies don’t have body hair sprouting out all over like that!”

She knew that she had made the correct judgement about me when she saw me start for the bathroom like she had ordered. In truth she didn’t know how right she was because I became very submissive when I was dressed.

Fifteen minutes later I was standing in front of her while she examined me. I had shaved my legs like she said, but I also shaved my chest, arms, armpits and had shaved around my now small triangular pubic area.

“Very good!” She said after looking me over. “Your looking more feminine already!” She said in an obvious attempt to embarrass me and when she saw that she had made me blush her confidence doubled.

“Go pick up the nylons I was wearing and put them on next!” She said with a nod. I didn’t waste any time complying and after my legs were encased in her nylons she made me put on her high heels. In just a couple of minutes I was standing in front of her again.

She let me stand like that for a little bit as she cupped and carressed her firm naked breasts. “Hmm. I like telling you what to do.” She coo’d in a sexy voice. “It makes my nipples hard.” She added.

After a bit she lowered her hands to her sides and then lifed her dress a couple of inches so the lacy hem of her slip peeked out from under it.

“Do you like my pretty slip sissy?” She asked, using that teasing tone of voice again. I told her that I liked it very much. “You want to wear it don’t you panty-waist?” She taunted.

Again I told her that she was correct. Hearing this she dropped her dress down so the slip was no longer exposed. “Then beg me to let you wear my slip sissy.” She told me. “I want to hear just how much you want to wear it!”

I slowly got onto my knees so she was towering over me. “Please Kelly let me wear your slip.” I begged. “I love slips and I’ve never worn one that had been worn by you first.” I pulled my panties up so that my cock was clearly visable under the front panel. I had been slowly getting harder and harder and now it was pretty close to being fully erect.

“Just look at how hard my cock is from me just thinking a about wearing your pretty slip. Please let me put it on and I promise to do whatever you say. Please!” I begged. She stood over me smiling for a little while, then she nodded. “Ok, you may take it off of me and put it on sissy.” She said, with a snicker. I gently reached up under her dress and carefully pulled her slip down her legs and then held it while she stepped out of it.

Once she had I eagerly slipped my feet into the waistband and then pulled it up into place. The lacy hem came to just above mid-thigh. “Oh you look so sexy in my bra, nylons, panties and slip!” She said softly. “So sexy you make me wet. My little sissy makes my pussy wet when he does what I tell him to do!” She said in an athoritative voice.

“I’m glad you think I’m a sexy.” I said meekly, then added. “And I love it when you tell me what to do.” She smiled when she heard me say that.

“Good.” she told me. “Because from now on I’m going to be telling you exactly what to do. Understand?” She asked. I lowered my head and then told her that I understood.

She pushed her dress down so it fell in a circular ring around her feet. Daintily she stepped out of the center of it. She told me to pull it up into place, but added that I shouldn’t zip it closed just yet. I worked the dress up over my hips, I had to tuck my slip back down afterward, then held it tightly around my middle.

Kelly had busied herself with something in a box, but now she turned so she was facing me again. “These are what I got you for your birthday sissy!” She said, holding out a pair of silicon breast forms. They were so realistic that they jiggled like jello whenever she moved her hands.

I felt them for a minute as I thanked her and after she handed them to me she pored a thick layer of super-glue on the back of each one. “You know what I want you to do.” She said as she snickered.

“I want you to push those breasts into place so they will be permanently glued to your chest.” She reached out and pulled the straps of my bra down off of my sholders, then pushed the satin and lace cups so they were forced a couple of inches lower then they would normaly be.

“Come on sissy.” She ordered sternly. “Glue those titties to your chest. I know you want to!” I slowly raised both breast forms up toward my chest. “That’s a good girl.” Kelly said to urge me on. When they were about an inch away from where my own breasts would be, if I had any, Kelly placed her spread hands on the nipple side of each one.

With increasing pressure she pushed them closer and closer until they were being firmly crushed aginst me. It only took a second for the super-glue to set. She pulled my hands away along with hers. I felt the expensive silicon breasts pull at my chest as they were allowed to hang freely on thier own.

She began to knead them with her fingers. “I don’t know how you would ever get them to come off.” She said happily. “But that’s ok, because this is how I want you to look.” She ordered me to pull my bra back up and then gave me permission to zip up my dress.

Once it was securly fastened closed Kelly stepped back and looked me over. She was now naked and I was wearing what she had been wearing just a short time ago. She spread her feet to about sholder width.

“I’m going to put make-up on you because I want to make you into as much of a woman as I can. But now while your still obviously nothing more then a sissyfied male I want to watch you eat my pussy.” She said forcing me to my knee’s.

“I can always remember what you looked like right now, because your never going to look this masculine again!” She added as she pulled my face tightly aginst her wet crotch.

Kelly had busied herself with something in a box, but now she turned so she was facing me again. “These are what I got you for your birthday sissy!” She said, holding out a pair of silicon breast forms. They were so realistic that they jiggled like jello whenever she moved her hands.

I felt them for a minute as I thanked her and after she handed them to me she pored a thick layer of super-glue on the back of each one. “You know what I want you to do.” She said as she snickered.

“I want you to push those breasts into place so they will be permanently glued to your chest.” She reached out and pulled the straps of my bra down off of my sholders, then pushed the satin and lace cups so they were forced a couple of inches lower then they would normaly be.

“Come on sissy.” She ordered sternly. “Glue those titties to your chest. I know you want to!” I slowly raised both breast forms up toward my chest. “That’s a good girl.” Kelly said to urge me on. When they were about an inch away from where my own breasts would be, if I had any, Kelly placed her spread hands on the nipple side of each one.

With increasing pressure she pushed them closer and closer until they were being firmly crushed aginst me. It only took a second for the super-glue to set. She pulled my hands away along with hers. I felt the expensive silicon breasts pull at my chest as they were allowed to hang freely on thier own.

She began to knead them with her fingers. “I don’t know how you would ever get them to come off.” She said happily. “But that’s ok, because this is how I want you to look.” She ordered me to pull my bra back up and then gave me permission to zip up my dress.

Once it was securly fastened closed Kelly stepped back and looked me over. She was now naked and I was wearing what she had been wearing just a short time ago. She spread her feet to about sholder width.

“I’m going to put make-up on you because I want to make you into as much of a woman as I can. But now while your still obviously nothing more then a sissyfied male I want to watch you eat my pussy.” She said forcing me to my knee’s.

“I can always remember what you looked like right now, because your never going to look this masculine again!” She added as she pulled my face tightly aginst her wet crotch.

Her response was to ram her hips forward a third time. She kept applying more pressure until her hips were pressing firmly into my ass cheeks. “You took all of me cunt!” She rudely told me. “I love the way you look bent over like you are and with my cock buried as deep as it can go into your pussy!” I felt her grab my hips with her hands. “Now I’m going to show you what it feels like when you get a good hard fucking!” I was gasping and pleading with her to be more gentle as she moved her hips away from me so her cock was withdrawn from my tummy.

But all of that stopped when she slammed it back into me, sinking all the way in with the one thrust. My legs were convulsing and my inner thighs felt as if they had been slashed with a sharp knife, but the stabbing, searing pain flooding out from my violated hole into my groin and cock was all I really felt.

Several more times she plowed into me like that, which left me laying under her like a limp rag. I was slipping in and out of reality as she started to steadily pump her cock in and out of my once virgin pussy. I regained my sense’s and was greated by the still painful sensation of her rythmic fucking.

“Oh you take it good bitch!” She moaned. “Your so nice and tight, just the way I like them.” She added. I felt her sink all the way into me and then hesitate for a moment, but then she picked right back up with the same ferious tempo. Several more times she hesitated like she did before.

I was still finding it hard to move my legs and I moaned when I felt her take my cock into her hand. She bent it back between my thighs and then pulled my panties back up where they belonged so that the crotchband kept it like that. I could only gasp when she began to use both hands to stroke along the narrow strip of my panties that passed between my legs.

She knew how to make the smooth nylon move over my imprisoned cock so that in less then sixty seconds I was almost ready to squirt my come right into my own panties. She sensed how close I was and she started to give my swollen cockhead a good working over.

“Come on bitch!” She yelled. “Come in your panties for me!” She forced the head of my cock down between my cheeks. “Show me how much of a slut you really are cunt!” She shouted. A couple of strokes later she began to spank my ass cheeks with her open hand right through my panties.

“I ordered you to come you little slut!” She said swatting me even harder then she had been. She wrapped her fingers around my shaft as far as my panties would allow, then she started stroking me from the front of my panites to back over the head.

She saw my inner thighs tense up right before my hot sticky fluid started to shoot out of my cock. That gave her time to slip one hand under the waistband and shove her fingers in front of my cock. This allowed her to catch every squirt on her fingers, which she proptly shoved into my well fucked hole.

In this manor she managed to force my pussy to be filled with my own sticky sperm. “Oh sissy!” She gasped. “I got hot thinking about your own come being forced into your pussy!” She said as she pulled my panties back down to my thighs. “So I’m going to have to fuck you again!” She said with a laugh.

“Oh god, you’ll kill me!” I cried out meekly, but I was suprised at how easily she sank into me.

“Your come makes a good lubrication bitch, just like all women’s pussy’s are suppost to do.” This time I actually felt myself pushing back to meet her forward thrusts.

“Oh Kelly, fuck me.” I begged. “Fuck my pussy good, fuck my pussy hard!” I gasped.

“You can count on it slut!” She gleefully told me. “You can count on it.”