Oct 31, 2012
Oct 23, 2012
I had a great time over the weekend with a new play friend. We had a blast exploring one another; playing roles and messing with each others' minds.
I came back home to the wife and the cold reality of rejection. Why can I have the feeling of being desired outside of my house? But where I should feel the most secure and happy, I feel most out of sorts.
Oct 22, 2012
I come home. I see my wife and I see how great she looks. I get that stirring in my stomach that I've been feeling lately. I want her. You'd think it'd be a fairly easy thing to get across, right?
Maybe I could just say it aloud. But, no, I won't. I'm too used to hearing "no" or "I'm tired".
Instead, I get down on my knees in front of her. I lean in to give her a kiss hello and, rather than getting up, I stay there with my hand on her knees. I rub gently as we talk. I ask about her day. I reach up and stroke her hair. I'm tell her how nice she looks.
And nothing happens. Eventually, my leg starts to cramp. I stand up and go change clothes. I feel tears behind my eyes. I ask myself, "Why can't I just say what I want? Why doesn't she know what I want?"
Am I just no good at sending signals? Or are the signals received and just ignored?
We're going to be here all afternoon, darling. As with everything involved in transformation, there's a price that must be paid for the big reward. I'm starting with the clippers. Right here on your belly.
Don't pull away.
This will take care of a lot of the hair, yes, but you'll be astounded just how much there is left. This may pull a little bit but it certainly feels better than waxing... and no blood... well, very little we hope.
Can you feel the way the air in the room has changed with the more hair you lose? Can you feel the little drafts that you weren't able to before? If not, you will... the world is about to feel very different for you. It's like I'm going to take the blinders off of you.
I love these clippers. They just cut through that mangy coat like butter. Look at that pile of hair that came off of you. It's enough to make a small dog. Now, second step. This trimmer on my electric shaver goes a lot closer. And now I'll be getting a lot more intimate... Up and in and around and down.... All over this body that I own. The body you gave over to me when we first met. The one that I knew had potential but needed work. Now it's time to do the work.
There, so much hair hidden in secret places. All of it coming off. Coming clean. Just like you. There's not going to be a hair left on you apart from the hair on your head, darling. Good. You're looking so much better. Do you feel better too, dear? (Blowing) How do you like the feel of me blowing along your chest? Your skin feels more sensitive... how about your nipples? Doesn't that feel nice... Now for step three. I'm going to slather you up with shaving cream. Sometimes nothing beats the old traditions. I know it feels strange on your skin. I'm sure it's been years since you've felt anything on your nearly bare body.
I need you to stay perfectly still now as I use my razor. Yes, feel it just peeling away all of that remaining hair. Down to the skin. Oh, yes. That's looking so nice. Smooth like a baby's bottom or, in your case, like a girl. Yes. Look at how nice and smooth your legs are. So shapely. I'm going to shave every last inch. You even have hair on your toes, did you know that? But you won't after today... All gone. Just like the rest. Let's work this blade into every nook and cranny, every crevice. You poor thing, you don't know whether to be excited or scared as I hold your little thing and shave here between your legs. Don't be scared, little girl. I want you in tact. I want you pretty for me. You do want that, don't you?
Yes, I thought you might.
All right, we've reached the final step. I'm going to slather you with this depilatory. A nice thick cream all over you. Imagine that. Now, this may burn a bit but it will be worth it. Think of it as me burning away the last remnants of your masculinity.
I'm going to get down here, between your cheeks. Every last bit of you. There's no place you'll have hair just like there's not going to be a trace of the boy in you left. This will take a bit. I'm going to set the timer on my phone to let me know when I can wipe you down and get that last bit of hair off of you. While we wait, I'm going to have you look at me. Look at my arms. See how the skin looks? See how smooth? Feel my wrist here across the back of your cheek. Isn't that nice? That's how smooth you're going to be, my sweet sissy. And, look at my legs. See how nice they look? Yours won't ever look this nice but your legs will be similar. Yes, and imagine when I have you put on stockings over your bare legs. That's going to blow your mind, honey. And the panties that I have for you. Nice and snug. Imagine the lace hugging your bare hips and bottom.
It's time. I've got the warm water and washcloth to wipe you down.
Everything's coming off with this. There isn't even a speck. All off. I'm sure this washcloth feels odd to you, going right up against your bare skin. This is the world I was telling you about. All these new sensations. All thanks to me. And, yes, you may thank me now. Look at yourself in the full-length mirror and thank me as you see your new body. Do you even recognize it? It's a new you, sweetie. A new you that's all mine.
All clean and smooth, yes.
Now, sit that butt down on the bench there. Oh! Yes, it's cold, isn't it? A lot colder than you might ever recall. Just sit there, dear, and let the feeling soak in. Here, take these, and put them on. That's right, point your toe and roll those onto your legs, one at a time. Isn't that something.
Yes, it's a whole new world, isn't it? You've worn stockings for me before, this very pair, but they feel even more wonderful now. I know. Now, stand up and run your hands over them. Now the panties. Here. Yes, black lace, your favorite. And, yes, they look so nice in contrast to your pale, smooth bottom. So good that I've got to take a picture. Oh, yes, that's perfect. Lift up your arms. It's the bra that matches those panties. Now you can feel how that lace is on your skin, and how it rubs against your nipples. And I tightly secure the straps around you. Perfect.
Yes... that is perfect.
You look like such a pretty girl. My pretty girl. I'm going to make my pretty girl's transformation complete now.
I'm going to make her feel like a proper girl. Because now I'm going to take her and fuck her like a girl. It's not use to protest, darling. You knew this was coming and you know you want it. It's time. I want you to get down on all fours right there. Don't worry, you won't snag your stockings. That's right. Oh, I can see that you're ready. I see the way you've got your butt up high in the air for me.
That's good. Mmm, I like running my hands over you even more now. It's so nice. And can't you feel my hands even better now? Feel the warmth from my body. Can't you feel my legs near yours? And can't you feel the head of my cock sliding up and down the crack of your ass like never before? Even the pressure against your sweet little rosebud.
It feels different, doesn't it? Better. More immediate. Show me how much you want this. Show me you're mine. Push back onto my cock. Open yourself to me. Oh, that's right. Oh, yes. You're taking my cock so sweetly. I love seeing it disappear inside of you. Inch by inch. Seeing you open to me. Seeing you take my cock and hearing you moan.
And when I smack your ass it feels so much more real, doesn't it? So much sharper and harder. And that means you'd better move that sweet ass and take my cock good. Fuck yourself, bitch. Fuck yourself with my cock. I'm going to keep smacking that ass until it's bright red.
Oh, fuck, girl. You do that so well.
You're just a natural at taking my cock, aren't you? Shit, you're going to make me cum. You're going to feel me cum right down deep inside of you, my pretty girl. Take it. Take it. Yes, take all of me, bitch, and tell me you love it.
Good. Good girl. Now get up and pull your panties up. I've got the rest of the outfit for you to put on for when we go out tonight.
Oct 17, 2012
HYSTERIA by Tanya Wexler
Maggie Gyllenhaal in HYSTERIA
Hugh Dancy in HYSTERIA
Best Trans Performance:
Deviant Kade in RUBBER BORDELLO
Best Documentary Film:
MY DAY WITH TARNA by Chris Caliman
Best short Film:
JUMPCUT by Saskia Quax
Best Actress in a short Film:
Yulia Petrauskas DA KINK IN MY LAIR
Best Actor in a short Film:
Johnny Kostrey THE CHAUFFEUR
Best Trans-Performances in a short Films:
Atif Siddiq in HOUSE FOR SALE
Scott Speiser in MISS D
Best short Documentary:
TRANSITION by Tim Brunsden and Paul McCann
Best Concert Performance:
BUECK DICH by Rammstein
CRY ME A RIVER by Eklipse
LET YOUR DARK SIDE OUT TO PLAY by O Zarathustra
MY FETISH by Formalin
STRAY SHADOWS by Blanket Barricade
Best Website of a Filmproducer:
Best long clip:
SISSY SLUT SECRETARY (transfetishvideo)
Best female performance in a long clip:
Alexis Grace in SISSY SLUT SECRETARY
Best male performance in a long clip:
Christian in CABARET
Best trans performance in a long clip:
Tiffany DuNotte in SISSY SLUT SECRETARY
Best Short Clip:
GAG ON IT SLUT Barbi Dawll
Best female performance in a short clip:
Karina Currie in CHAINED AND INSPECTED
Best male performance in a short clip:
Lance Hart in MACY'S CUCK BOYFRIEND
Best trans performance in a short clip:
Barbi Dawll in GAG ON IT SLUT
There are times that Mistress robs me of my manhood.
She doesn't want me to have a penis so she denies me of it. She's done this in various ways throughout the years that I've served her but she's gotten it down to a science.
Tied up so I don't thrash, Mistress snaps her purple rubber gloves. She bears a gleefully evil look in her eyes. Her smile borders on a leer when she smears the unguent on her palms. She grips my erection. This kind of manipulation would feel good if only the gelatinous liquid on her palms was something else other than the numbing agent. As soon as her hands touch my dick, I begin to lose all feeling there. Like a deflating balloon, I wither, ending up limp and tiny within moments. For good measure she slaps my lifeless penis. I don't feel a thing.
Between changing gloves she brings her needles close. She holds aloft a rather high gauge needle that catches the light just before it pierces my foreskin. I watch, fascinated, seeing it pass easily through my skin. She passes a silver hoop through the two tiny punctures she's made. Into the hoop she threads a strip of leather. She pulls it, hesitantly at first. Everything holds firm. She pulls tighter until she's stretching out my foreskin until it looks something like an elephant's trunk.
She has me stand and secures another leather strip around my waist. I watch in the wall mirror as she pulls my cock back through my legs and ties the two leather strips together. Having me face forward, I see that my cock is gone. What remains is a shaven patch where Mistress occasionally allows my pubic hair to grow. It's smooth, now, and without a trace of manhood. There's nothing there for me -- nothing visual and no feeling. When she makes me like this, I usually feel a bit detached from myself since my body has become so alien.
I'm Mistress's eunuch. And, deprived of my main source of physical pleasure, Mistress works to make me experience pleasure -- and pain -- via other means. Not distracted by my cock, she finds that her manipulations are more pure.
Sometimes she continues to deny me of sensations. She blindfolds me. She plugs my nose. She seals my mouth with safety tape. She sits close to me and uses her vibrator on herself. The intensity of the sound -- of the vibrator and the sounds of her body -- is incredible.
Sometimes she picks one area on my body and overstimulates it. She knows that my nipples are normally sensitive. Once she played so much with them that I orgasmed despite the lack of feeling below my waist. I still bucked my hips as if I was ejaculating. The emotional and physical satisfaction were present but the physical evidence was not.
Today temporarily castrates me before robbing me of my sight and hearing. I can still smell and taste. She pushes me down to the floor and mounts my face. I feel her thighs on either side of my head, pushing the earplugs deeper. She overwhelms me with the scent and taste of her pussy. There is nothing else in the world except for this. I live for nothing else.
My tongue works hard, rubbing up against her clitoris before diving down deep into her valley, tasting her. Drinking from her. She is my desert oasis. She feeds me with her need. Her taste is like a drug to me. It drives me. It takes me to new heights. It makes me hungrier for her.
My tongue nestles against her, licking slowly, luxuriously. I feel her push down harder onto me. I lick and flick, harder and faster. I can feel her shudder and taste her unleash.
As she cums atop me, I feel stirrings in my numbed sex. I know that she could slap me there and I wouldn't feel a thing but the arousal I feel runs so deep that it awakens the phantom between my legs. My sexuality is so bound to this place that, even numbed, I ache for her.
Oct 16, 2012
I have a great ability to conveniently forget things. I've managed to hide away a lot of things, locking them somewhere deep inside where I dare not look. I'd like to say that those were things done to hurt or disturb me but, more often, they're things I've done to hurt or disturb others.
My mind immediately goes to a dinner I had with a girl -- now a woman -- with who I went to high school. "You were a real dick back then," she told me. Here I was, painting myself as some kind of loser victim while, apparently, I had been more than a little mean to others. Sure, some of that is perception -- and I know I talk about that a lot on here -- but there is such thing as truth and I truly believe her. I'm sure I was a dick to her and to a lot of other people. It's no wonder I had just a smattering of friends back then. I'm about as selfish and self-centered as they come.
The reason why I'm writing this isn't to confess my sins, however. I'm more concerned that there's something that disturbed me (and still does) that I thought for sure I had written about once before in an attempt to purge myself of the memory at least a bit.
I've written before about how the sex between my ex-wife and I dried up after just a few months. I went from a virgin to regular intercourse to rarity in a matter of months. I still don't know if that sparsity of sex was my ex's way of driving me away but it took years before it finally worked.
In the meantime, the sex we had on those rare occasions was unsatisfying to say the least.
Often we would be fooling around and there would be some kind of unspoken signal that passed between us that intercourse was imminent. She would excuse herself to go to the bathroom, leaving me turgid on our bed. Time would pass. A lot of time. Too much time. I don't know what she was doing in there but by the time she came back, whatever fire had once burned had long since gone out -- usually in her. "I'm tired," she'd say, and that was that.
Other times, there was the added humiliation of her asking me to put on a condom before she left for her interminable bathroom trips. By the time she'd come back, I'd be limp and, if we continued, another condom would be necessary.
But, the worst of it was that the times my ex wanted to have sex usually coincided with her period. She'd be full bore into her menses when she'd get the urge. Having been deprived for months, I would go for it, despite the negative things that went along with this -- namely the odor and the dryness. Even the best lubricant we'd use wouldn't survive the process and, quickly, things would get more than awkward.
However, the worst would come when, just minutes into intercourse, my ex would break out in tears, pulling herself off of/away from me. These weren't tears of pain. They were full on crying jags; the kind where her body would shake and shudder. She'd gasp for breath while practically screaming. And there I was, kneeling with a bloody condom on my shrinking cock, never able to console her.
After a while, even looking at a condom would shrink my dick. I started to lose all desire for sex as it always came with blood and tears (no sweat).
When I told the above to my therapist -- who is usually as cool as a cucumber -- she blurted out, "What she molested as a child?" That was my same theory but something my ex never admitted to, if it happened. Despite years of therapy, nothing ever changed with my ex. If anything, she seemed to get worse rather than better.
Whenever she was given something to help stabilize her mood, her plan quickly became, "How fast can I ween myself from this medication?" She hated taking pills, no matter how much they helped her. Self sabotage? Yes, I think so. But, at the same time, she was sabotaging both of us.
I was there in that circle, yes, playing along. But it took me years to see just how sick it was.
Oct 15, 2012
It all started innocently enough. I was heading to another city for the weekend. It's close enough to drive there in a little over an hour but far enough away from my home town that it felt like a vacation. Before I left I thought I'd look on Fetlife and browse the folks in the area. One woman in particular caught my eye. On her profile she talked about being a smart-ass. Also, everything it was free of misspellings and grammatical errors; a rarity. (I'm the kind of asshole who goes through profiles on CollarMe.com and send spelling corrections to entries that would have otherwise interested me).
I dropped her a line and was more than a little shocked when a received a response a few days later. I tried to handle things gingerly; I didn't want to spook her by letting her in on my excitement. It's rare that anyone ever respond to me, much less someone who seemed so interesting. I had only ever met two people who I had met via Fetlife and both of them had been friends of friends. Neither have gone beyond an initial meeting, though there was no animosity at the end. Both were "we just need to find time" people who flummoxed me. (You mean you can't find an hour to grab a cup of coffee even though I'm in your neck of the woods and gave you a week's notice? I finally figured out it wasn't the coffee or the half hour. It was me.)
Apparently, my response back to her didn't turn her off. We exchanged emails over the evening. Eventually she escalated and suggested we text. I countered with a complaint about my tiny keyboard and gave her my number with a suggestion to call. She did.
I turned off the lights and got in bed, bringing her with me. Her voice, anyway. We talked for well over an hour. Maybe it was the late hour or the drinks I had with dinner but I found the nerve to ask, "Are you free for lunch tomorrow?" I told her that I wanted to try a local Edgar Allen Poe-themed restaurant. She agreed to meet me there at noon. Again, my head swam at the idea.
Sure enough, she was there right at noon. We picked right up from our chat the night before, talking about ourselves and learning about one another. By the time the bill came I gulped hard and laid my cards on the table. "I'd love to continue this conversation. I'd like if you would come back with me to my room and, if you were into it, I'd love to play. If not, that's fine. I'd still like to talk with you more. No harm, no foul."
I had to keep my jaw from hitting the floor when she agreed. I had the horrible feeling that I'd get back to my hotel and she'd never show up.
We sat and chatted some more, even talking a bit when I got down on the floor, removed her shoes, and began massaging her feet.
She began touching my head, rubbing the stubble of my freshly shorn skull. Such a little thing but it felt so good.
I got up onto my knees and rested my head on her chest while she continued to rub my head.
I pushed myself and made one, final bold move... I raised my head and kissed her.
From there, the scale tipped and all bold moves belonged to her...
Oct 12, 2012
I'm not sure if I've ever stated this on the blog before but I'm not circumcised. It's not something I've brought up because it's not something I think about. It's just me and it doesn't come to mind very often. It only ever crosses my mind when I hear pieces of the never-ending debate about whether it should be done or not. I was assaulted by such a discussion this morning when the clock radio went off, exposing me to the raving lunacy of the "morning zoo" on 96.3FM.
The way that the hosts (one male, two females) spoke about uncircumcised penises was akin to someone jeering at a circus sideshow of freaks. Suddenly, I had Frankenstein's monster between my legs according to these yahoos. The depth of these people's reactionary ignorance never fails to astound me but I don't usually feel like I'm being attacked the way I did this morning.
Listen to the offending discussion
Oversensitive? Perhaps. It just put me in a very strange mood this morning. Then, as things often do, it was followed up by a coincidence. A few hours later I got an email from a recent play partner who said, "I'm curious how it will be to actually have sex with someone who hasn't been circumcised... That will be a first." When I told her about how monstrous my member is seen by these morning show jerks her reply made me smile, "I like it. More to touch, more to nip with my teeth. It was difficult to keep my surprise in check so you didn't think I was repulsed. Which I was not."
Thank you. It's good to hear that my natural state isn't as disgusting as Blaine and Allyson would have be believe.