genderbending

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...

I've had my head buried deep (and tia's computer completely occupied) in another project* this week and not had time to do a proper holiday blogpost. So I will let the beauteous Delia wish you a season of joy on our behalf:



Whatever it is you're celebrating at this time (Festivus anyone?), we hope you have a fun & sexy one!


*Involving turning 15+ hours of family home movies into a 1 hour DVD. Wheeeeeeee.

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

Tia's recent bout of self-analysis has prompted me to try doing the same for my own kink(s). I have so far avoided doing so because I feel like it's just too complicated to be able to express. I'm sure that people will focus on one thread of what is really a big tangled mass and miss the larger picture I mean to convey. And frankly, I don't feel like the general public has any claim to this kind of intimacy with me; I'm very comfortable sharing my body but the deep, dark corners of my mind belong to me alone.

But there are other things I want very much to say that will make a lot more sense after I fill in this backstory. So {deep breath} here goes..

I think I need to begin by talking about my fetish. I have a rape fetish. And I don't mean a fetish in the sense of 'something I like a lot that gets me really turned on'. I mean in the CLINICAL sense: something that I cannot achieve sexual satisfaction without. Something that has to be there for me to have an orgasm.

(Complication #1 - I don't know how common this is, but I know I'm not the only woman who has different sorts of orgasms from different kinds of stimulation. I have at least four kinds of orgasms. But my clitoral orgasms are like steak while the others are more like strawberries: they're all tasty but one leaves me satiated wheras the others aren't really filling unless I have a whole bunch of them, and then I'm hungry again soon.

When I speak of not being able to achieve orgasm without my fetish involved it's clitoral orgasms I'm talking about. And while I enjoy the other sorts very much, it's the clitoral orgasms I need to have to feel truly satisfied.)

I hope it goes without saying that I do not need to actually rape anybody to be satisfied. But I do need to be mentally focused on a certain kind of fantasy. The exact elements of these fantasies varies, but they generally involve some poor, helpless, innocent girl being sadistically raped and tortured by one or (more often) a whole gang of vicious men. And here we come to complication #2: the gender kink.

My fetish is something that has been a part of my sexuality for as long as I can remember, from the time I was a pre-adolescent dressing my Barbie dolls up in clothes made of paper towels so that Ken could tear them off her. But I didn't figure out until I was almost 30 that when I played these scenes out in my mind I was always in the role of the man.

It's not that I was sexually unsophisticated or inexperienced either. I was often the most lustfully adventurous person among my peers. In fact, sometimes I look back and wonder how the heck it took me so long to figure this shit out. But on the other hand, considering all the societal factors that come into play I suppose it makes sense.

Perhaps the single biggest obstacle to my understanding was the cultural assumption that one's sexual fantasies directly correlate with what one wants to make real. This assumption is SO prevalent it's difficult for most people, in my experience, to even grasp the idea that some of us are not wired that way, that for some of us the very impossibility of the fantasy is a necessary part of the thrill. It seems pretty obvious that this assumption is what's behind people's objections to "extreme" porn; it is certainly true that this assumption permeates discussions about porn ethics. So just imagine how it was for me as a girl, having grown up in a woman-headed family with STRONG feminist ideals, to be inescapably fixated on sexual fantasies that could not have been any more opposed to those ideals.

I couldn't talk to anyone about them because dude - violent rape fantasies? That I could not reach orgasm without? Yeah; you can imagine how most people would react to that. And I completely didn't understand that I saw myself as the big bad raping MAN either. I'm not only female, I'm femme. I'm very happy with my womanly body and not at all interested in becoming a man. I don't even want to look butch. That meant I MUST want to be the girl in the scene, right?

Right?

Of course not, but a decade or so of hearing about how porn - even ordinary vanilla porn - "objectified" and hurt women, well, that was plenty enough indoctrination to fuck with my ability to know myself. And MORE than enough indoctrination to fuck with my ability to communicate this shit to anyone. So I was left in a state of perpetual guilt, unable to share my whole sexuality with my lovers, unable to talk about it with my friends, unable even to discuss it with the several therapists I saw at various times during those years. I tried, more than once, to exorcise this dark part of myself. To stop 'giving in' to these thoughts that I was convinced were harmful. Which was useless of course.

{to be continued..}

I recently had a little bit of drama over at one of my tumblr blogs. I might write more about that later, I don't know. But it has definitely inspired me to start writing on a subject that I've been thinking about for a while: sissies.

The word "sissy" was first used as an affectionate synonym for sister. Which is a meaning it has in common usage even today. Its first published use was recorded in 1846 but by 1887 it had gained the additional meaning of "effeminate man or boy". It's not hard to imagine how the shift happened: even today some boys will emphasize their masculinity by denigrating those who are more feminine. The leap from calling your sister 'sissy' to calling the odd boy down the road who liked to wear pretty clothes and hated fighting a 'sissy' is an easy one.

I personally find this origin deeply satisfying. Because although it started out as a pejorative when applied to males* I think it also expressed a fundamental truth: sissies are akin to SISTERS.

I think that's a wonderful way of seeing sissies: not necessarily as fellow women**, but definitely as my sisters. I love the thought that every sissy out there is, in some sense, my sister under the skin.


* Sissy was considered pejorative because it denoted that the boy or man was not sufficiently masculine; i.e. he liked wearing pretty clothes, he had polite, gentle manners, he didn't like to fight, etc. Proper boys were simply not supposed to be like that. But we have grown past requiring that guys act like brutes lest they be sneered at, haven't we?


** Of course, some people who start off wearing the label 'sissy' later conclude that they ARE women.

I've spoken of our system of smart-ass penalties here before. I really love making videos of these 'discipline' sessions. For one thing it's a type of scene that just begs for an audience. And I guess I enjoy watching these videos an awful lot. They're among the ones I keep coming back to anyway. *grin*

We made this one months ago, but I never got around to sharing these little samples from it..at least, I don't think I have. If I have done then I hope y'all won't mind seeing them again, lol! Personally I very much enjoyed watching myself bounce on poor tia's head & grind on his face as I revisited this one today..



You can also CLICK HERE to see a totally foot-fetishy promo vid

We haven't had a smart-ass penalty session in a while. And you know what? Even if tia's not past due for it (and I think he is, oh yes I do) I know damn sure *I* am!