Seasons of Change Ch. 01

Prologue

Planting the Seeds

Some think that sexuality is static, decided at birth and well beyond anyone's control. There are those in this life however that feel themselves and their sexuality evolving as life progresses. I am one of those souls. Following society and early parental example, I aspired to be a perfect example of heterosexuality, until one day when I just knew that wasn't who or what I was. Not only did I feel a strong attraction to the fairer sex as well as masculine stereotypes, I was drawn to sexual ambiguity. This idea cemented itself into my psyche when I fell head over heels in love with a sweet gay man who loved me for the "good friend, sister or even mother" I personified, but never as a lover. At the time, those feelings of wanting to "control" him and possibly bend him to my will were awash in my subconscious, but I could neither name them, nor bring them to bear yet in a relationship.

The birth of the World Wide Web exposed my already questioning mind to images that fascinated me and confirmed what I already knew deep down; I was kinky! I played with my sexuality in one way or another, writing, perusing, and collecting information for an exploratory and private period of ten years, then came chat programs and erotic literature websites. I had the odd lesbian encounter and even professed my love for one of these women, but sadly she did not return my affections. Already in an open marriage (or so I thought) I began conversing with people who did share my views, both about bisexuality and gender reversal. I formed friendships with men who craved to be on the submissive side of these situations, no longer happy with the status quo. These relationships with submissive, usually bisexual men, numbered in the hundreds, both short-lived and long-standing, I conversed with many a horny, bisexual man and finally recognized that now in my forties my proclivity for Dominant behavior with them was the paradigm that truly drove me sexually.

Life, of course, gives us lemons sometimes and out of those fruits developed the sweetest case of pink lemonade I could have possibly EVER asked for. I also knew in my heart that in order for me to find an enduring relationship for my future, my partner would not only have to be totally down with my dominant side, but be both submissive and Dominant in his own right.

We were opposite in so many ways; he was quiet and private where I was chatty, open, liberal and verbose at times. He was extremely tall and I was extremely short. He was a snowbird and I was a sun-drenched darling. Despite all these differences however, he luxuriated in my heady ideals about Female led relationships, dropping his cares at the door of the bedroom and becoming a slave to my every desire. While we were chatting, roleplaying online and slowly getting to know each other, an easy friendship and closeness developed. When my moronic spouse of almost two decades decided to walk out, this very special friend became a rock of support for me in a very troubled sea of emotion. The submissive that had always deferred to me in play showed his Dominant side and stood firm in what I needed to do to survive the storm of separation and divorce. In that time, we grew ever closer. We talked more frequently and, in the days, and months that followed the bond between us strengthened and grew impenetrable. The D/s part of our relationship took a back seat to the more pressing matters of daily life and the expression of feelings that had long been suppressed. Then, quite suddenly (or maybe at his careful management I don't know) the Mistress that I harbored in my soul began to assert herself even stronger than before.

Cross-dressing and gender reversal, as well as Total Power Exchange (TPE to those of us kinky folks) had always been of great interest to me. Part of my sexuality screamed to be in control of every sexual situation. Sometimes, I liked to joke, it felt like I had more testosterone in me than most men and I had always been in possession of a hefty case of self-admitted penis envy. Being a "man" and having my partner be the "woman" in this particular sexual dynamic was one that has always appealed to me. So, that's how it came to be that my "man" slowly but surely came to be my "woman!"

In a chat that will forever be imprinted on my memory, I asked my lover if he had ever taken a woman's name during a role-playing situation. He admitted that no he had never taken it that far. During this same chat we had been looking online at TS/TV/CD clothing and the necessities it would take for him to dress in drag for me in private. Lingerie, of course, is a huge part of my attraction to a man dressing as a woman. The idea of encasing his very large, very masculine appendage in a small, silky or lacy undergarment was enticing beyond description. On this night in particular our chat had become more and more open and once the subject of feminine names came up, the intensity level seemed to rocket out of control as well. We bandied a few about, Simone, Gabriella, even porn star names like Jenna and Raven, though none of those seemed to be the right fit. Then I came across one that seemed sexy as well as feminine and Desiree, the cross-dressing, sissy slut became my new sub! October 10, 2009 would live forever in my mind, almost as if he became mine at that very moment, as monumental to me as even the birth of a child. It makes me smile just to write the letters even now.

The next few days saw the intensity of our chats and conversations ratchet up to a new level. I enticed him with things like using feminine pronouns when I wanted to provoke and tease him, knowing he would be extremely aroused. Also, I described to him in detail how I was going to use my artificial masculinity to strip him of his anal virginity. Even though we had long ago professed our feelings for each other this new play, for both of us, cemented the bond that had grown out of our long-established feelings for each other. My profession that "I loved my sweet, sexy, slutty, girl Desiree" was enough to elicit a groan of both anticipation and appreciation from him. He went on to tell me how he wanted "to be your girl always and forever, my dear, sweet Mistress."

Things became almost surreal for him after that, I think. He couldn't believe how intensely sexual he felt when he surrendered himself to my every whim. Yesterday he actually went to work wearing a pair of red thong panties under his suit trousers and was astonished at the level of electricity and sexual energy he felt coursing through him having done it just for me. We started collecting the items that he will need to be a proper cross-dressing sissy slut. I ordered his first pair of "come fuck me" pumps the other day and picked up the first thing in his makeup kit. I continue to put together the essentials that I will need to transform him from a strong, confident middle-class executive into Desiree one day very, very soon.

∞

There are things that I cannot wait to do to him. I want to mark him, claim him, make him mine forever and in doing so scream to the world how much I love him as a sissy, even though that would make him tremble with fear. I want to have him tattooed with my name and his proclivity so that every time I use him I will see this profession of our individuality and connection scrawled across his skin as will anyone I choose to share him with. I want to restrain him, thereby making him immobile and forcing my will upon him, while at the same time whispering his sissy name in his ear as I tell him how much I love him. I want to dress him up in slutty outfits, sissy maids, school girls, nurses, fairies and take pictures for an album that only he and I will see...reliving each moment and helping to establish his place at my feet. I want to spend hours shaving his body, adorning it with baby oil and lotion to make it soft and smooth. I want to teach him to put on makeup and watch as he struggles to get it right that first time, hoping above all things that I will be pleased with his effort. I want to paint his fingernails and toenails in some god-awful shade of whore red and then bind him hand and foot in a hogtie on my bed where I stroke him and leave him so on edge that he is ready to weep.

I want to teach him to suck cock for me, use him for a gangbang whore, stretch him out to the point where I can slide my fist into his "pussy" any time I want and I then want him to beg me for more. I want him to refer to his male genitalia as a clit and a pussy every time he dresses up for me. I want to hold him close and cuddle him after hours of denial and teasing until I make him cum and then tell him what a beautiful, good girl he is for me. I want to pick out clothes while he watches and make him shudder by pulling on my strap-on as he pulls up his favorite pair of panties. I want to make him my bitch and at the same time I want to be his. The dynamic of our relationship may seem strange to some, but for us it seems so natural, so perfect. I love him, respect him, adore him, desire him and cherish him, now and always.

I saw a shirt on the net the other day, it said "My husband shops in my closet!" Now that's my idea of a perfect marriage!

And that is just the beginning!

~Chapter 1~

The Choice

He arrived on a Friday morning. It was sunny and hot, all too common for the northern California valley. As he left the jetway and entered the terminal, he could feel sweat building on his forehead, the back of his neck and dripping down the small of his back. These beads of perspiration made him think of the crinkled piece of paper tucked into an out of the way pocket in his briefcase; the one he had looked at a dozen times since he left the ground in Philadelphia.

It read: Mistress Camille's Sissy Slut

The reason he was sweating was that he knew she intended to have it permanently tattooed on his skin in the space where he was now beginning to show the slightest trepidation. She had sent him the tattoo idea some months ago in one of the dozens of emails they exchanged in the days following her discovery of his deep-seated desire to be a cross-dressing sissy for her. All of this meant that when he returned to the city of brotherly love by the end of their time together, he would officially belong to her, collared, marked, and owned, her slave.

She was waiting for him now, down the hallway from the terminal by the baggage claim, waiting for the culmination of their first liaison after four long years of online role-playing and one very erotic, highly charged year of temptation, fantasy and anticipation. There were times during the flight when he couldn't concentrate on anything but the pictures in his head; the black patent leather high heel pumps with the locks on the ankle straps, the red and black leather collar with the lambskin lining and his sissy name emblazoned on the front, the black fishnet stockings, the red lace bra, panties and garter belt, the sandy brown wig, the counter full of makeup and of course the restraints.

His arousal was evident even though he did his best to contain it. The red thong that she insisted he wear under his trousers did nothing to conceal the measure of his longing for what was going to happen during the next week. He tried to think of something disgusting, but everything seemed erotic at the moment. They had so many fantasies, but this particular one was the thing that drove through him, straight to his soul. He had his doubts during the past ten years that this would ever happen, but then circumstances began to unfold that led to the secret love he harbored for a wonderful formerly married woman clear across the country to come to fruition and now here he was; six foot four inches of pure adrenaline and desire.

Could it really be everything they had talked about? Could he really commit to this extreme manifestation of servitude for her? The time for questioning, wondering and second guessing was over. He bought the ticket knowing that he was taking the first step to a new and wondrous phase in his life, albeit with a little apprehension.

She stood there among the throngs of people, "short but mighty," dressed all in black with creamy skin and ruby red lips...("hooker red" he knew, a special inside joke between them) tight black stretch pants, a lacey black see through blouse and heels which made her all of five foot three. They were such a dichotomy physically, tall and short, light and dark, but there was a bond between them that no one could break. No matter what happened in the future, he would belong to her forever after this trip, her lover, her submissive, her true heart's desire and he wanted nothing more than to spend the time worshiping her and loving her to the best of his ability.

Her eyes found his easily and he could see the same lust smoldering in them that he heard in her voice all those times they talked late at night, him whispering so no one might hear and her enticing him with all the things she wanted to do to him when he was finally at her feet. He wanted to drop to his knees right here in the airport, but modesty kept him standing tall, instead he leaned to embrace her, kissing her forehead only for now.

"Hello, my sweet, sexy slut," she whispered as his face bent to hers; the anticipation indicator in his slacks turned to stone.

They walked hand in hand and talked on the way to the car, the sexual tension so thick in the air between them you could cut it with a knife. It was small talk really, his kids and hers, the weather, his flight, but nothing about what was going to happen and he felt as though he might explode with longing for her as he watched her expressive face as she drove. This was it, he was finally here and she was his most beloved Mistress. They arrived at her home after only a short 20 or 25 minutes, took his bags inside, went straight to the bedroom and settled on her bed.

He was understandably nervous, but she put him at ease almost immediately. "Why don't you go get in the shower and I'll join you in a few minutes." She suggested as she leaned in and kissed him slowly and sensually on the lips.

She left the room and he looked for traces of what was about to happen but saw nothing but a tastefully appointed bedroom. He opened the left side of the closet where she had mentioned there was plenty of room and hung his clothes up carefully. Naked and filled with adrenaline and anticipation, he made his way to the small bath off of her boudoir. He luxuriated in the hot water spilling over his skin, helping him to relax somewhat. They had spoken of so many scenarios over the years...he didn't quite know what to expect next and he knew that she had purposely not given away what she had planned to keep him in suspense, his brain and body off kilter just slightly.

He could hear her moving about the bedroom, but due to the configuration of the room, he couldn't see exactly what she was doing. After a few minutes, she appeared in the doorway in all her glory; naked and blushed, she had a natural shyness about her body even after everything they had shared over the years. She slid open the shower door and climbed across the threshold. Her hair was pinned up as if she didn't intend to get it wet.

"Shall we shave you now, my sweet, sexy girl?" Reinforcing both her dominance and the gender reversal that they both craved. His eyes immediately became downcast in submission. She touched him lightly on the hips and thighs and then put her index finger under his chin, guiding his gaze to her eyes. "Tell me what you want, my sweet darling?"

He knew what she was looking for and his lip trembled before he spoke finally. "Please Mistress; make me into your slutty girl, Desiree."

"We'd better turn the water off for a bit or we'll be taking a cold shower shortly." She instructed him to sit on one of the two seats in the shower stall and to stretch his right leg out and see if it would reach the other one to rest it on. He easily unfolded his leg out for her and propped it up. She set about lathering his coarse hair with feminine smelling shaving cream and slowly stroked the new razor blade up and down his long limbs. It was painstaking and since it was the first time for either of them in this situation, they proceeded with utmost caution. Before he knew it though, one leg, calf and thigh were done, and it was time for the other. She moved to his left side and asked him to present his other leg. Slowly and methodically she depilated the masculine pelt from him, legs first then carefully the groin...balls, cock base and ass and finally his chest and even his underarms.

"Okay sweet girl let's rinse you off," she said, taking the shower head and spraying him back and front, the warm water and the ideas of his surroundings made him excited yet again. She took a small bottle from the shelf and poured the contents into her hand. He was curious but did not ask. She applied baby oil to his wet skin, legs first, slowly working up his calves onto his thighs and then into his groin, circling his heavy ball sac and rigid member and then oh so luxuriously into his ass crack, skirting his hole purposely and lightly, almost a tickle or a tease. "That is so you stay soft and hopefully don't get too many razor bumps."

"Yes Mistress, whatever you desire."

She slid the door open and reached for a huge fluffy towel and first dried herself and stepped out of the enclosure. Then she wrapped it around herself and held one out for him to step onto. "Don't want you to slip with the oil dripping off your skin, baby."

She dried him slowly and softly; patting each place where they had shaved instead of rubbing roughly as one might in the everyday ritual of their ablutions. As they came out of the bathroom and into the dressing area, he could see what she had been doing in the first minutes as he stood under the refreshing spray of the showerhead. There were small, flickering, votive candles in a line along her dresser, in the window sill and all around the room. In front of the candles was an array of toys that would make most men turn and run for the hills, but not him. It was what he craved; five or six dildos, butt plugs, an assortment of small insertable eggs and other vibrating toys, ankle and wrist restraints. At the very end, the thing with which she repeatedly teased him that she was going to use to take his "cherry," her 9 inch black strap on, sitting up tall and proud in its harness waiting for her to pull it into place. Soft music played in the background, the scene was both romantic, feminine, erotic and so sexually charged that he was a bit lightheaded.

He heard himself gasp involuntarily.

"Lay on the bed my love," she said and at the sound of her voice and the touch of her hand on his arm, he had to shake himself out of the reverie that he had slipped into. As he lay down on the extra soft cotton sheets, his "clit" as she called his cock, hardened still more and provocatively waggled before her.

"Before we dress you, baby, we need to finish your transformation to Desiree." With that simple statement, she pulled two breast forms from the adjacent nightstand and placed them over his smooth, freshly shaven chest. She raised one, quickly and expertly applying the adhesive before pressing it firmly to him over his right breast. After repeating the same with his left, she grabbed each pulling them up and down as though they were actually a part of him. He moaned in anticipation and the humiliation of now sporting breasts nearly more sizable than his Mistress' overwhelmed him.

"Good," she said simply, "Just as I'd hoped. Go and wait in your place." She said it as though he'd always known the place. In some respects, he did because they had role-played it so often. He knew just where to look and where to go.

At the end of the bed was a bench and as he sat, he noticed that on the chair to the right and in the corner was laid out for him, his ensemble, just as he had imagined it while flying across the country to meet her. She knelt in front of him and pulled the stockings off the chair; black fishnet thigh highs, one of the things that could instantly transform him from the masculine businessman into a feminine, compliant whore for his Mistress' use.