Birth of a Rose

The birth of a Rose

The following story is a fantasy.

But a fantasy rooted in experience and reality.

This is what I am and these are my desires and longings.

Mistress Amanda embodies what I wish for, and though the woman portrayed in the story is not real, the portrayal of her does contain many elements of women I have known and loved.

I live my life with Rose and she is part of what shapes and defines who I am.

One day, perhaps, Rose may find her Amanda and life will take a different direction.

I would very much appreciate feed back on the story so please give your comments.

Theo

*

Oh, it is not easy. Never.

Imagine a sixty-year-old year-old man, with a deep-rooted desire to be dominated by a woman. No so easy to find someone, even though you are intelligent, in pretty good shape and good at talking to people. Some even call you charming and you know you have an easy and infectious smile.

So, finding a Mistress, or somebody who will be willing to lovingly dominate you is a challenge.

It gets worse...

Because you want to be dominated by a woman as a woman. Yes, that's how it is. Impossible. You are quite happy with being a man, with your masculinity. You have never desired to live as a woman or to take steps in terms of changing your gender. You like your body.

Oh, of course you would like sometimes to have real female breasts, and to have a pussy. Oh yes! But the desire is not so strong you want hormones or any sort of operation. Nor do you want to wear women's clothing. Except panties of course. And stockings and a skirt now and then. At home, when you want to fuel your imagination and pretend there is a Mistress to control you and make you submit.

And worse again: You want a Mistress who will treat you like a young woman. A twenty-year-old lesbian submissive in a sixty-four-year old man's body is what you are. What I am.

It is in other words impossible. Or was. Until I started to correspond with Mistress Amanda.

I told her, over a number of chats, how I really felt. What my deepest desires and fantasies are. And she understood. She also told me that she had conducted sessions with other men like me. I am not alone in my desires. Not that I have ever doubted that there are others like me. It was much more a comfort to know that there are actual women out there who has experience with men like me.

Thus, my submission to Mistress Amanda began. As mails and chats gradually controlling me and preparing me for her domination. Video chats were included as well, to confirm I was adhering to her instructions and for me to confirm that she was real and honest.

Now I was on my way to her. To meet my Mistress in the flesh.

I had been under the direct control and influence of Mistress Amanda for the past three months. After having answered a vast number of questions from her about my experience and personal situation she had graciously agreed to be my Mistress, initially via the internet. And no, of course it was not for free. I paid her for her time and service and was happy to do so.

She, on the other hand, set up a number of requirements for my daily life, and took direct control of certain aspects of my appearance, dress and behavior. I was instructed to use depilation cream on my legs and chest as well as on my private parts. I was also instructed to shave very closely every day and to use moisturizer on my skin. I had to have professional manicure and pedicure every two weeks and she had me order a wig with shoulder length hair. The last was difficult for me.

I had to transcend all my limits to walk into the specialized shop and have the measurements taken. Luckily they were very understanding, and I was certainly not the first elderly male they had as customer, and they took the job seriously. I was quite satisfied with the final result which framed my face in soft light brown tresses. It made me feel younger and it was a thrill for me to wear it in the privacy of my home.

Mistress also commanded me to at all times wear sexy female underwear under my normal standard male clothing. Again, I had to cross some boundaries to go shopping for female lingerie that would fit me. I managed most by ordering online after I had ascertained my size. Mistress did not want adapted underwear meant for trans persons. She wanted me to use lingerie made for women to enhance my feeling of being feminized.

I built up a stock of silk and satin panties as well as a few in cotton. I was also instructed to buy garters and stockings and whenever I was at home, I was only allowed to wear such obvious feminine attire. Mistress gave me specific instructions to buy a number of skirts, chemises and blouses as well and I was only allowed to sleep in a really frilly nightdress she had found for me. it was pink and short sleeved and felt really soft against my skin. I felt like a silly teenager when I used it, and that was exactly the feeling Mistress wanted to cultivate in me.

The styles she commanded me to wear at home were all for young women, and I admit to feeling very awkward when looking at myself in the mirror, dressed up as a women forty years my junior. The wig helped a bit, but I still felt shy to pose in short tight skirts and small tops, showing off my large male stomach and non-existing bosom. Mistress just told me I looked adorable and she actually made me blush like a love-struck teen when she praised the photos I sent or posed for her on video. It made me shiver and tingle with desire when she praised me and told me I was a good subby slave for her.

Apart from her precise instructions on how to dress and on my appearance, Mistress Amanda also micromanaged aspects of my behavior. I was of course not allowed to orgasm unless specifically instructed to do so, and I was required to wear nipple clamps and a butt plug often. Even when at work. A sixty-four-year old man dressed in ultra-feminine lacy lingerie and stockings beneath his formal office attire. With nipples secretly clamped and a butt plug inside my bottom that made me walk very carefully.

Oh God, how I felt utterly stupid at times, and I was very afraid of exposure. But it also thrilled me to the core to obey my Mistress and knowing that I was following her explicit commands and that I was her good submissive made me flush with desire many, many times during a working day. Sometimes she gave me explicit orders to follow at work. Such as being allowed to caress my clamped nipples while thanking her very time I went to the toilet. Or even to edge by touching my clit every hour and reporting how I felt afterwards by mailing her.

I was horny almost all the time. Kept constantly aroused my Mistress Amanda's control of me. She would grant me an orgasm once in a while, usually after I had spanked myself hard with a leather paddle or a heavy hairbrush. My balls and clit were at such times always constrained with leather rings, separating my balls effectively and also fitting tightly around my clit. Mistress would guide me to an orgasm by not allowing me to touch my erect clit until I was gasping and moaning and begging for release after having stimulated my anus and nipples and chest for a very long time.

During my teasing I would also often be ordered to spank and slap my clit and fuck my anus with a plug or even a vibrating dildo. I would be a total mess by the end, my clit twitching, my pelvic muscles convulsing, my nipples burning and aching.

"Lick your finger, Rose!!" Mistress would perhaps then order as she watched me live on camera. "Let it slide over the tip of your little clit, my darling. That's it... back and forth..... but don't cum! Don't cum until I grant you permission!"

She would count down slowly, giving me commands at every count. Telling me to lick my fingers and tease my nipples, to fuck my anus ten times with the plug, to tell her how much I desired and wanted her to control me, to use the tip of a finger to caress my clit, to slowly use to fingers to pinch and tease my clit as I watched her on the screen. I would usually have tears running from my eyes as an explosive orgasm erupted in my body when she commanded it and I became very proficient in not cumming until she allowed.

Afterwards I would thank her profusely, my whole body shivering with lust filled after throes, still tasting the semen she had ordered me to swallow after I exploded in my cupped hand or a glass. I felt Mistress Amanda was caring Domme who made me feel like the young innocent submissive woman I had always known lived within me.

She had been freed now, that woman, and I named her Rose and Mistress smiled in appreciation and said my initial training was finished and that she was ready to receive me in her abode and provide further training for Rose. I was elated and thanked her profusely.

She had one condition, though. I had to travel and dress as Rose when I went to see her. Otherwise our relation would cease. She wanted my total subjugation and devotion, as Rose, to her. I was sobbing and pleading but of course to no avail. In the end I agreed. I had to. I paid the large sum she required for her services and she dictated me what to wear for our first physical meeting: pale yellow lacy underwear including garter belt, nude stockings, my highest heels (I was still learning), a short pleated dark blue skirt, a tight chemise top and a white blouse. Plus my wig of course and the best make-up I could do, which was not much.

I knew everybody would recognize me for what I was -- an old man in women's clothing. Mistress knew as well, but she told me to wear it proudly. I was also to wear nipple clamps and a medium sized butt plug as well as having my clit and balls constrained by the leather rings I had become accustomed to wearing.

"Be yourself, Rose my darling! Don't pay attention to the attitude of people in general. They do not understand, and they do not matter. What matters is that you, Rose, come out as you are, and you are a very adorable and lovely woman!!"

Whew! Easy for her to say! Mistress Amanda lived a few hundred miles from me, so at least I could drive to her place. She instructed me, however, to make a least three stops along the way and to play with my butt plug and clamped nipples but I was not to touch my clit.

I dressed carefully according to Mistress Amanda's instructions and I had recently used depilation cream so my skin was smooth and as silky as it could be after generous use of moisturizer. My nipples were clamped with adjustable clips and the tight top teased the exposed tortured fleshy nubbins whenever I moved. It made me so aware of my non-existing tits. I was, however, glad that they did not show through my loose silken blouse. My constrained genitalia, the plug buried inside my butt also constantly reminded me of how I was being controlled by my Mistress and tingling sensations coursed through my body in little shivers of excitement. I put on my wig applied make-up as carefully as I could and doused myself carefully with a floral perfume, Neon Rose, that I had found to increase my sense of femininity.

I took a deep breath and walked to my car, not really daring to see if the neighbors were watching. I was tingling all over and tried to walk as much as a woman as I could, in my not very pronounced high heels. I had found some pumps made especially for men with a moderate heel that I could manage.

My first stop was after about 50 miles and I took a deep breath and walked slowly to the cafeteria and made myself a cup of latte and paid the middle-aged woman behind the counter. She barely glanced at me, and most people in the cafeteria were immersed in their mobile phones, so I went almost unnoticed to a small table in a corner. I did catch a few people glance at me and even one or two whose eyes lingered a bit, but that was all. Grateful, and rather excited as well, I finished my coffee and went to the restroom to relieve myself and also touch my nipples and plug as Mistress has commanded.

On the way I suddenly felt apprehensive. This was my first experience outside my home at being dressed as a woman, and I knew I had to go to the women's restroom. Luckily the was only a pre-occupied teen washing her hands as I entered, and I managed to make my way to a vacant stall. I sat down on the toilet, strangely elated at being in a women's restroom and peed and afterwards I spent a few delicious moments teasing my anus with the lubricated plug and touching my nipples through my chemise. I did not touch my clit, as this was forbidden by Mistress, but even though it was very stiff and aching for release when I was finished edging. I brought my clothes in order and went to wash my hands, trying to smile in a friendly manner at two young women who came in, talking animatedly.

They just ignored me, and I hurried back to my car, tingling with arousal at the whole experience.

I called Mistress Amanda, as she had commanded, and gave a full report on my experience.

"Very well done, Rose!" she praised me, and I sat there in the driver's seat and blushed like a teenager. I was very gratified I had managed to live up to my Mistress' requirements and expectations. She did, however, command me to spank myself five times on each bottom cheek next time I went to a restroom and she also told me I should thank her by saying out loud "Thank you, Mistress" after each spank. I was not allowed any other self-stimulation.

I was very anxious and apprehensive as I drove on and it did not help that when I arrived at the stop, there were quite a lot of people around. I steeled myself however, decided to bypass having a coffee, and went straight to the women's restroom, taking care to walk slowly and be as inobtrusive as possible. I noticed some young men looking at me at even thought I heard a snicker, but doggedly carried on.

The restroom was quite busy, and I had to wait a bit until a stall was free. I hurried inside and felt very vulnerable with all the women around doing their business. I relieved myself, as people walked in and out and chatted and laughed and then knelt on the seat with skirt up and tried to time my spanks to when the noise of flowing water was most prominent, that is when several women were washing hands at the same time.

God! It was embarrassing! My panties muffled the noise from the hand spanks a bit, but I still felt each smack was very noisy. And I only managed to whisper my "Thank you, Mistress" after each spank. I did not dare to say it less quietly. Finally, I finished, bought my clothes in order and waited a while, my cheeks hot. When I could hear it was busy outside I hurried out, and went to wash my hands, not daring to look at anybody. A couple of young women were quietly chatting, and giggling and they cast curious glances in my direction. I wondered if they had heard the noises coming from the stall I had used. The sound of my self-spanking. But they just continued their whispering conversation, and I finished washing my hands and hurried back to my car.

The young men had gone, by a man of my own age sent me a crooked smile, and I felt he had seen through my feminine attire and knew me for what I was. I was shaking when I reached the car and almost crying when I called Mistress Amanda to report.

She was disappointed, she said. I should have thanked her loudly and clearly and my failure to do so had earned me a punishment to be dealt out later. I apologized and promised to do better next time. Mistress ordered me the next time to unclamp my nipples briefly and deliver ten hard spanks on each tit, again thanking her after each one.

I was very, very scared when I arrived at the last stop, which luckily was a small place and I could perform my task in a corner stall in a restroom where only a woman in her sixties was present. She was washing her hands as I entered, looked at me incuriously and left. I did not need to relieve myself this time, so I just hurried inside and completed my tsk, this time thanking my Mistress aloud after each spank to my aching nipples and tit. I looked at myself in a mirror afterwards and found my face to be flushed and hot, so I splashed some cold water on and repaired my meager make-up afterwards.

After my report to Mistress Amanda, who gave me praise, I drove the last bit of the journey, humming to myself and listening to k.d. lang. 'Constant craving' has been a favorite of mine for a long time. 'Even through the darkest phase/Be it thick or thin/Always someone marches brave/Here beneath my skin'. It felt appropriate and I was looking so much forward to finally meeting my strict and commanding Mistress in the flesh.

I found a spot to park near the address she had given me and walked to her house, carrying my bag. It was a spacious suburban white painted two-story house surrounded by a pleasant and well-kept garden. My heart fluttering, I went to the front door and stood still for a couple of minutes, trying to get my trembling body under control. Drawing a deep breath, I rang the bell.

I heard steps, heels clicking, and then she opened the door and stood before me in all her glory.

I had seen her often on-line and knew her face and how her body looked, but it was very different to be standing in front of her. Mistress Amanda was taller than me. I'm a bit short, 5'6", and she was at least 5'9" and her high heels made her appear even taller. Her long dark hair cascaded down to below her shoulders and framed her smiling face. I was grateful for that smile, and the obvious recognition glinting in her brown eyes. Her high cheekbones, her full lips, the crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, the dusting of grey in her hair, added up to a face of mature beauty and obvious authority. But also showed that there was humor and kindness with the sternness.

I knelt in front of her, and she offered a well-manicured hand with dark red nail for a subservient kiss. I reverently bowed my head and planted my lips on her skin, then remained kneeling with my head bowed. She had leather boots on, shiny and very high heeled, laced in the back. They covered all her lower legs and ended just below her knees. A black silk stocking showed, and she had a pencil skirt on, dark grey, with a broad leather belt.

"You may stand up, Rose," she said, her voice warm, and I stood up in front of her, my eyes travelling over her blood red silk blouse and her generous bosom. The blouse had a high collar and around her neck a gold chain gleamed, a black opal evident resting on her bosom.

"Thank you, Mistress," I managed to whisper, my voice hoarse with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. She reached out and let a finger slowly slide down my cheek. Her smile was still evident, and warm.

"Do come in, my dear."

She stepped aside and I picked up my bags and entered her mansion.

I followed her as she strode through the hall, her magnificent behind moving with her graceful steps. She told me to set down my bags and led me to a spacious sitting room overlooking the back garden. She turned to face me, and I was overwhelmed with her scent, which was musky and dark yet eminently feminine. She crossed her arms and looked at me, running her gaze all over my feminized body.

She waved her hand commandingly and I turned around, exhibiting myself to her.

"Hands on you head!"

I quickly complied and pulled my shoulders back as she had taught me.

"Well done, sweetie!"

I shivered with her praise. I so much wanted to be good for Mistress Amanda, to be her sweet feminized slut! My cheeks wet hot and blushed by now. She stood behind me, her hands on my chest. She unbuttoned the top buttons in my blouse and her fingers gently teased the turgid nubs of my clamped nipples through the soft fabric of the chemise top.

"You like being clamped for me; don't you Rose? You adore how your nipples feel and how sensitive they have become!"