Facials are fun

So I’ve had the worst luck with electronics lately.  For the last two weeks, I’ve been without a computer.  But it finally got in, yay!

And there’s a lot to be happy about.

In two weeks, I’ll get to see Southern again.  It’s been a couple of years since I’ve seen him, so I’m looking forward to that.

And, for those of you who check out Jessie’s blog (and all of you really should), you may have noticed a fun little game I played with him, where he had to send a text to Kazander, asking him to cum in his mouth.

Fun stuff, it really is.

So he sent the message, and a few days later, Kazander and I pulled up to the house.

I was beaming from the moment we walked through the door.

Jessica was dressed in her gorgeous corset, backless panties, stockings, heels, her hair and makeup done.  She looked sexy as hell.

Her face looked so pretty, I just had to stick a penis in it.

And Kazander is quite the Top, as it turns out.  When we’d talk about how we wanted the evening to go, I often had to remind him that we could push Jessie, we could have all sorts of fun fucking with him, but we had to exercise some restraint, as well.

We had to toe the line between intense and too intense, but we couldn’t violently shove him into the deep end with no warning.

“Dear, if we break our toy, we won’t be able to play with her anymore.”

You know, balance.

But as I’ve said before, I’d much rather have to hold him back than try to pull enthusiasm out of someone who’s just not feeling it.  The fact that he’s sort of taken this and run with it is a million kinds of freakin’ awesome.

And he has the benefit of having been my sub for 7 years now, so he knows me, he knows the kinds of mindfucks I like, and he knows the general flow of how I like having sessions go.  His biggest kink is humiliation, so he’s very experienced in the field of receiving it.  Since he’s got the switchy tendencies, he can take what he finds hot when he’s in the submissive headspace and turn it around when we’re with Jessie.

So now I have someone to help me utterly humiliate and degrade my sissy.  Which is a huge, massive bonus for me.

We sat down on the couch, and I had Jessie get on all fours at our feet.  Only a moment later, Kazander’s cock was in her mouth.

I was determined to make it last longer than last time, though.  I wanted to really savor the experience.  I wanted to draw it out a bit, and let all three of us enjoy it.

Well, let two of us enjoy it, anyway.

That morning, and the previous night, I’d had Kazander cum.  Normally, I enjoy keeping him chaste and denied, so he doesn’t last very long when I do let him cum.

Last time, that (combined with Jessica’s exceptional cock-sucking skills) resulted in him cumming too quickly.  I made sure to prepare so that didn’t happen this time.

It was so hot watching Jessie suck Kazander’s cock, watching her head bob up and down as she deepthroated him.  She’s definitely been practicing.

After a moment, I knelt down on the floor next to her and reached behind her, rubbing her clit.  Her p-spot has always been so sensitive, and I wanted to see if rubbing it would have an effect on her cock-sucking.

You know, for science.

She started squirming, arching her back, pushing her ass out against my hand, very literally humping my hand while she sucked his cock.

I grinned and looked up to Kazander when I heard a soft moan come from her.  “Does this make a difference?” I asked him.

“Oh yeah,” he replied.  “Whatever you’re doing, she likes it.”

My hypothesis was confirmed.  Gotta love science.

It was so hot watching her, squirming and writhing and moaning, her moans muffled by Kazander’s cock.

One of the things Kazander had suggested earlier was giving Jessie a facial, and cumming on her face, instead of in her mouth.  I was intrigued by the idea, but didn’t really think much of it.  We’d already settled on making Jessie swallow his load.  I didn’t see a reason to change the plan.

But when Kazander told me he was getting close, I suddenly changed my mind.

“Stop,” I told her.  “Lie down on your back.  He’s going to cum on your face.”

So she did, obediently lying underneath Kazander, her head between his legs, her eyes closed, while Kazander jerked off onto her face.

And she looked so pretty with his cum all over her face.  But then again, she’s a sissy, it’s pretty common knowledge that they always look good drenched in real men’s cum.

She wasn’t done, though.  Before she could move, I reached down and rubbed it all over her face, then put a cum-covered finger against her lips.

“Open,” I said.

Reluctantly, she obeyed, and I pushed my finger into her mouth.

“Suck it clean, that’s a good girl.”

Kazander went to get himself cleaned up, and I had Jessie sit at my feet, rubbing Kazander’s cum all over her face and making her suck it off my fingers.

The awesome thing was after a few seconds, that reluctance disappeared, and she leaned against me, enthusiastically sucking and licking my fingers clean.

Like a good little cumslut.

And honestly, that was my favorite part of the whole thing.  Just the way she completely embraced that sissy mindset, the way she eagerly sucked the cum off my fingers, it was just so damn fucking hot.

My precious sissy whore.

After Kazander left, I let Jessie come up and sit next to me on the couch, and rubbed her clit some more.  She came again and again, with Kazander’s cum drying on her face, and the taste of it in her mouth.

There was a funny moment, though.  We all know she can’t cum like a man anymore, she doesn’t even squirt.

Every time she came, she looked down to Tammi Lynn, tucked away in her panties.

“Are you checking to see if you squirted?” I asked after the third-ish time.

“Hoping I had,” she answered.

“Hoping you’d squirted?  Why?”

“Because then at least there’d be something to get the taste out of my mouth.”

“Oh, you mean the taste of another man’s cum?  Was that what you meant?”

“How’d you guess?”

And naturally, I found that just wildly entertaining.

My sissy bitch was hoping she could cum like a man, so that I would feed it to her, to get the taste of Kazander’s cum out of her mouth.

That’s where her mind went.  That’s the solution she came up with for how to get the taste out of her mouth — using her own cum to do it.

I mean, how awesome is that?

My precious sissy is growing up.

Sexism and forced feminization

I received this comment on my Why Idiots are Idiots post:

Dear Jen,

I would really like to know your opinion regarding forced feminization.

You see, forced feminization means that a male submissive is being degraded and humiliated by training and transforming him into a more feminine role and body. Does this imply that the femininity is somehow inferior to masculinity? I’m honestly confused about this.

Also, I find it interesting that there is no counterpart “forced masculinization”, where a maledom for example cuts his subs hair short, binds her breasts back and makes her fix his car.

Alright, I’ll be honest, this isn’t the first time I’ve been asked this question, and of course I’ve seen all the articles and angry blog posts talking about how forced feminization is sexist because it reinforces the idea that feminizing a man makes him less, because femininity is less.  Usually, I just roll my eyes, shake my head, and ignore it.  For many reasons, and I’ll get into a couple here.  However, since you were polite in your comment, I’ll take the time to answer.

But before I get into all that, there’s one thing I want to point out, because this mindset pervades many different kinks and fetishes.

The BBW fetish demeans plus size women. Femdom porn demeans women because it’s unrealistic and puts women in overly sexual outfits.  Being into blondes or Asians or petite women is demeaning because it fetishizes their appearance.  With basically every fetish out there, you have people who say it’s demeaning.

Here’s the thing, though.

I don’t fucking care.

I don’t care whether my fetishes are politically correct or not.  I’m not watching porn or feminizing Jessie for social commentary.  I’m literally just trying to get off.

It’s what I do, in private, with consenting adults, that doesn’t affect anyone else outside of the people right there with me.  It affects literally no one else.

It’s just a fetish.  People have some pretty fucked up ones.  As long as mentally sound adults consent to the fetish and it doesn’t cause unreasonable damage (No, I’m not castrating a man in my living room because he has a castration fetish), who cares?  It’s literally just a fetish.

It’s not like a sexual fetish is going to determine one’s vote.

And sure, maybe the BBW fetish is demeaning.  Maybe the only reason some men have been into me was because they fetishized my body.

But quick, guess who still got off on those guys.  So why do I care?

So that’s the quick answer.  But as far as forced feminization goes, it’s not the right answer.

The seemingly popular idea that forced feminization is sexist or implies that femininity is inferior is just plain wrong.

Why?

The answer is laughably complicated, and yeah, some of it has origins in toxic masculinity, but mostly it has to do with one’s identity.  My last post touched on the subject of identity, and the brain’s habit of desperately clinging to that identity.

For most men today, masculinity has been put up on this pedestal and heralded as the end-all, be-all of manhood, to the point that anything feminine, any show of sensitivity or softness or vulnerability leaves a man open to ridicule.

It is a massive part of what it means to be a man.  It’s a huge part of manhood as an identity.

And it’s sad, it really is, because it cheapens manhood as a whole.  It makes manhood shallow, nothing more than a collection of behaviors and attitudes current society has deemed masculine.

Back in the day, the epitome of manhood was being considered a gentleman.  And culturally, what was a gentleman?  He was kind, polite, responsible, and protective of those around him, quick to sacrifice his own comfort for the comfort of others.  He took care of his responsibilities, he did what was best for those who depended on him, he had the balls to admit when he needed help, and vulnerability or sensitivity were part of his identity.

A gentleman was not an unfeeling dudebro who could outdrink his buddies.  His identity as a man was not wrapped up in how masculine he was.

Of course, society back then was very, very far from perfect, so don’t think I’m putting that type of man on a pedestal.  I’m simply pointing out that society had a better relationship with masculinity back then.

This hyper masculinity is a relatively recent thing.  I’ve read it speculated that it has to do with the rise of women’s rights and feminism being seen as threatening to men of that time, who in turn clung to their masculinity and created the toxic relationship with it that they then pounded into their sons and grandsons and so on until it became a societal norm, something expected from all men.

Whether that’s true or not isn’t the point.  The point is that we as a culture have developed an extremely unhealthy relationship with masculinity and masculine behaviors.

Obviously that’s the problem with toxic masculinity, and one of the many effects it has had on many men is that it influences their identity greatly.  Masculinity is a huge part of the average guy’s identity.  Whether or not that’s a good or bad thing is a different conversation, trust me, this will be long enough.  The result is still the same.  It’s a big part of who they are.

And what happens when you force someone to give up such a big part of their identity?

It’s uncomfortable, even painful, and, depending on the context, deeply humiliating.

Just as with pretty much anything else, there is a group of people who have fetishized that discomfort and pain, and when performed in a consensual relationship with clearly-defined boundaries and limitations, those people can enjoy the discomfort the same way physical masochists enjoy the pain of being hit.

And it’s true not just with masculinity and femininity, but with anything an individual holds as a major part of their identity.

For example, Kazander and I used to switch for his birthday.  My longtime readers are very much aware of how much I dreaded and disliked it, how unnatural and uncomfortable it was for me, how it took days to literally shut off portions of my personality, and even that wasn’t enough to make me a “good” sub.  And yes, it was often humiliating.  Unfortunately for him (and me), I don’t fetishize receiving that humiliation, and it annoyed me more than anything else.

It was humiliating because my Dominance is such an integral part of who I am, and switching runs so deeply counter to that, it was a constant struggle for me.

But does the fact that I found it humiliating mean that I see submission as inferior to Dominance?  No.

For example, you don’t have to be a longtime reader to know how much I respect and admire Jessie.  And as it happens, I asked him how he would feel about switching.

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Needless to say, he was not a fan of the idea.  It would be so deeply uncomfortable for him, he wouldn’t be able to enjoy it.  Because that is far outside the boundaries and limitations of what becomes fetishized in his brain.

Because that’s just not who he is.  That’s not how he relates to someone in a sexual capacity.  That’s not how he and I relate to each other.

Trying to force him to be my Dominant in a session would be far more uncomfortable than putting him in a dress, or even forcing him to take a man’s cock in his ass.  The fact that it would create so much nervousness and anxiety in him would absolutely manifest as humiliation.

Does that mean that Dominance is inferior to submission, because he would find it humiliating?  No.  It’s just counter to who he is.

Have you noticed how effeminate men, or men who don’t have masculinity as such a big part of their identity, don’t feel the same discomfort or humiliation at being feminized?  Forced feminization as a tool to humiliate and degrade only works if masculinity plays a central role in who a man is.

As it happens, it’s a societal norm for masculinity to play that big a role in a man’s identity, so it is humiliating and degrading for most men in today’s society.

And yes, toxic masculinity is responsible for the sheer number of men who hold their masculinity as such a big part of who they are.  But it’s not any more sexist to fetishize that than it is to fetishize a skin color or hair color or height or weight or literally anything else.

You don’t see forced masculinization because women don’t have that same problem.  We don’t hold our femininity as such a huge part of our identity.  We have more cultural freedom, so we’re all over the gender expression spectrum.  We aren’t particularly attached to one or the other the way men are.

So we don’t feel the humiliation, but we can still feel that discomfort.

Like me, for example.  I don’t like sliding too far to either side of that spectrum.  Sure, I can dress up and be uber ultra feminine, but I have to be able to move back to the masculine side.  You mention a Dom forcing a female sub to fix his car.  I can change my body language and speech patterns and be just as masculine as any guy, and talk cars with the best of them, but I have to be able to move back to the feminine side.

Too far in either direction doesn’t cause the same humiliation that it causes in most men, because gender is not as big a part of my identity, but it’s not pleasant, because it’s not who I am.

So I mean, this idea that forced feminization is sexist or implies that femininity is inferior to masculinity just doesn’t hold up under close scrutiny.  It doesn’t work.

Past the point of no return

You have come here
In pursuit of your deepest urge
In pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent…
Silent…

I have brought you
That our passions may fuse and merge
In your mind you’ve already succumbed to me
Dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me
Now you are here with me, no second thoughts
You’ve decided…
Decided…

Past the point of no return
No backward glances
The games we’ve played till now are at an end
Past all thought of if or when
No use resisting
Abandon thought and let the dream descend
What raging fire shall flood the soul?
What rich desire unlocks its door?
What sweet seduction lies before us
Past the point of no return
The final threshold?
What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn
Beyond the point of no return?

M’kay, so my geek was showing there for a second.  But there’s not a whole hell of a lot out there more fitting right now.  Andrew Lloyd Webber knows his shit.

Tonight was fun.  Like, seriously fun.  Like, a million different kinds of fun.

Like, whoa.

So there’s this adorable sissy I own.  And earlier this week, I’d decided that he was going to take a big step forward today.

He was going to suck cock.  No big deal, there.  He’s done it before.  But this time, he was going to finish, and swallow.

Not a huge difference, right?

Heh, heh…

Poor Sounder.  It was a rough week for him.  Yesterday and today were the worst, of course.  I really turned up the fear factor, and gave him quite a bit to think about.

Oh!  And on… Thursday, I think?  While he was at work, he asked, “Did you ship something to me?”

“No, why?”

“I got a delivery notification.  I’m not expecting anything.”

Well, cool.  I didn’t think anything else of it, until later that night, when I asked what had been delivered.

His response was, “Yeah, God or whoever’s in charge definitely likes you more than me.”

I laughed.  “Why do you say that?  What was in the box?”

“Lingerie I ordered 6 months ago, and it never showed up.”

Ooooh, really?

I was intrigued.  Particularly when he was hopeful that it wouldn’t fit.

But, because the entire Universe works tirelessly to accommodate me, I received a text a few minutes later, after he’d tried it on.

“Of course it fits.”

“Is it pretty?”

He didn’t answer with words, but his answer was more than enough.

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Holy shit.

Like, ho-ly shit.

Um, yeah, it’s fucking pretty.

So yay!  He had amazing new lingerie to wear while he swallows cum.  And damn, that is some fucking hot lingerie.

I was even more excited.  I couldn’t wait for Sunday to get here.

So today, Kazander and I pulled up to Sounder’s house and knocked on the door.  He let us in, and I think my whole face lit up when I saw him, dressed up, his hair and makeup done, wearing one of my very favorite pairs of his panties, a pair with no back.

Actually, there’s a picture of him wearing that pair on his blog, along with some other incredibly sexy pictures.  And of course, I have it right here.

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I love these panties on him.  So pretty.

Dude, he was just so damn hot.  I didn’t wait, I barely dropped my purse and my bag on the floor before putting my hands on him, pushing him against the door and groping him.

I turned to Kazander.  “I love these panties on her.  They make her ass look so perky, don’t they?”

“Yeah, they do.  She’s fucking hot.”

And I just have to go on a quick tangent.  Because, while Kazander and I aren’t really “there” sexually with each other, he has become a really kind of amazing partner when it comes to Topping others.

I mean, he’s inexperienced as fuck, of course.  He struggles to find that balance between pushing limits and crossing lines.  As we were talking about how we wanted the night to go, I had to hold him back more than once, and remind him that if we break our toy, we won’t be able to play with her anymore.

But it’s awesome, it really is.  It’s so much better to have to hold someone back than it would be to try and encourage someone who just isn’t into it.

So I was excited, and turned on by how Dominant Kazander was through the whole thing, and how easily he fell into that role.  The two of us, sharing and using Sounder together, is pretty damn amazing, actually.

And Sounder really is such a fun toy to play with.  He was so nervous.  I’d been fucking with his head for days, and I wasn’t gentle.

I wasn’t gentle today, either.  I had him bend over the arm of the couch, his ass exposed and waiting.  Of course we were going to put things in it.

But I was nice, I went with something small (instead of the largest toy I have, which Kazander had wanted to use).  Kazander stood next to me as I eased the vibe into Sounder.

And once it was in, I asked Kazander if we wanted to do the honors.  He said, “Of course,” and took the vibe, fucking Sounder with it.

I stepped to Sounder’s side, putting one hand on the back of his neck and the other on the small of his back, really driving home the fact that it wasn’t my hand fucking him.

Poor Sounder, he was so tense, trying so hard not to enjoy Kazander fucking him.  And for a few minutes, he succeeded.  But then, Kazander and I could hear his soft, occasional moans.

It was so much fun, it was so hot watching Kazander fucking him with the vibe, and watching Sounder enjoy it.

Kazander wanted to fuck him with more than the vibe, though.  He tried pretty hard to convince me to let him fuck Sounder right then and there.  And for half a second, I considered it.

But no, that’s the next step.  I wanted Sounder to taste cum for the first time.  I wanted him to actively make Kazander cum, feel him shoot his load, and consciously swallow it.

Being fucked will, in many ways, be harder for him to handle than sucking cock, but there’s a level of passivity there.  All he’ll have to do is bend over and stay still.  Hell, I could tie him down, even, and take away his choice in the matter.

The end result would still be the same, no matter which hole we used.  Sounder would have a man shoot his load into him.  He’d officially be my sissy cumdumpster.

But with a blowjob, he has to be the one to do it.  He has to make himself my sissy cumdumpster.  He has to make the conscious decision to obey me, to do this thing he really doesn’t want to do, to make me happy.

Sure I could tie him down and let men use him.  And I will.

But not the first time.  Not tonight.  Tonight was going to be all him.

We went upstairs, and I happily showed Kazander the beautiful, pink, lacy sissy bed that Sounder sleeps in.  And then Kazander sat down on that bed, took off his pants, and waited expectantly while I told Sounder to get on his knees.

I pushed Sounder forward, holding Kazander’s half-hard cock and sliding it into Sounder’s warm, wet mouth.  I didn’t even have to push hard, or tell Sounder to open his mouth, like I have in the past.  Sucking cock is starting to come easier to him, I think.

He’s a very good cocksucker.  Kazander didn’t last long.  He came, his cock throbbing as he shot his load into Sounder’s mouth.

And Sounder, the obedient, darling slut, didn’t spill a drop.  I watched him, Kazander’s cock still in his mouth, forcing himself to swallow.  The look on his face was just absolutely precious.

Afterward, Kazander put on his clothes and went out for a cigarette, while I stayed there with Sounder, him on all fours on the floor.

“You’re a cumdumpster now,” I told him, my hand between his legs, rubbing his p-spot.  “And you’re going to cum with the taste of his cum still in your mouth.”

He didn’t take long, either.  I let him up, told him he could change, and that I’d meet him downstairs.  Kazander was ready to leave (we’d taken separate cars because he wanted to get home quickly).

But before he left, I asked him what he thought of Sounder’s mouth.

“It was great.  She’s a talented cocksucker.”

And it was funny.  I said, “You know what we should’ve done?  I should’ve had you cum yesterday.  Or this morning.  So you’d last longer.”

He nodded.  “I was thinking the same thing,” he agreed.  “Oh well, now we know for next time.”

I grinned.  “Thinking about next time already?”

He shrugged.  “I’m never going to turn down a blowjob from a hot slut.”

He left, and Sounder came downstairs, and he and I settled on the couch to watch a movie.  I sat there, my arm around him and my hand around his neck, and he started pushing forward against my hand, wanting me to choke him harder.

At one point, he even took my hand, pressing it harder against his throat.

And for the record, it really doesn’t take much to make me go from normal to turned-the-fuck-on.  Like, not much at all.  Sometimes, all it takes is a hand on mine, and an unspoken request to be handled more roughly.

My hand went between his legs, rubbing his p-spot again.  He spread his legs, leaning back against me, squirming and moaning as I rubbed him to an orgasm.  And then another.  I didn’t stop, I didn’t give him time to rest, I just kept going.

With my other hand, I fondled his breasts, but when I finally pinched his nipple, and heard him gasp, “Yes, please yes,” I intensified everything.  Combining the pleasure and pain, it didn’t take long for him to cum again, pushing hard against me and crying out, still writhing uncontrollably.

I’d never seen him that turned on before.  The way he moved was different, his voice was different, his mannerisms were different.  And it made him bolder.  At one point, he slid off the couch, kneeling at my feet.

“May I?” he asked.

“Of course.”

He bent down, kissing my feet while I ran my fingers up and down his back.  But, while I certainly enjoyed that, I wasn’t done making him cum, and pulled him back up on the couch with me.

I actually lost track of how many times he came.  It was definitely more than five, and it might have been more than ten.  And holy hell, they were intense.  It was so damn hot to watch. His back arched, practically screaming, clinging to me, his legs thrashing as the sensations overwhelmed him.

And I still wasn’t done.  I got off the couch, lying him down flat as I sat beside him, still rubbing his p-spot with one hand, the other around his neck, and now I could choke him even harder.

He came again, one last time, arching his back so high, I was worried he might hurt himself.  But he didn’t, he lied limp on the couch, panting and gasping, still squirming just a little.

“Are you alright?” I asked, grinning.

“I don’t know… I can’t handle it.”

I laughed.  “That’s a good thing.”

I got up to wash my hands.  After a moment, he managed to pull himself to his feet.  I walked up to him, and he wrapped his arms around me.

“That… That was… Just mind-blowing,” he murmured.  “Earth-shattering.”

“I can see that.  Was it enough to make up for earlier?”

“That part actually wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.”

“Well good, see?  You’re a true born sissy.  It all just comes naturally to you.”

Any other time, he, being that perfect mix of sweet and sarcastic, would’ve had a sarcastic answer to that.  But this time, he barely managed a half-muttered “uh, huh,” before pulling me close again and resting his head on my shoulder.

But he seemed really unsteady on his feet.  “Come on, let’s sit back down.”

We sat back down, I pulled him close and put my arm around him, and he rested his head on my shoulder.  And really, in less than two minutes, I realized he’d fallen asleep.  The poor thing, so worn out, so overwhelmed.

I sat back, resting my head against his, letting him rest while I watched the end of the movie.  Then, I woke him up, and he walked me out.

I think he’ll sleep well tonight.

And when he wakes up in the morning, in his sissy bed, he’ll remember exactly what it felt like to kneel at the edge of it, obediently swallowing cum.  And he’ll know that there’s no coming back from that.  For the rest of his life, he will never not be a sissy cum dumpster.

Past the point of no return
No going back now
Our passion play has now at last begun
Past all thought of right or wrong
One final question
How long should we two wait before we’re one?
When will the blood begin to race
The sleeping bud bursts into bloom?
When will the flames at last consume us?

Past the point of no return
The final threshold
The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn
We’ve passed the point of no return

Health update, and yay, new pills!

So I saw the oncologist last week, and he ordered like a million blood tests.  One of the tests has already been analyzed and I saw the results.  And there’s good news and bad news.

The bad news is that the numbers make leukemia even more likely.  Like, unless I have some weird, rare, undocumented condition, that’s what it is.  But the good news is that the numbers point to the chronic types, not the acute types. Which is good, because the most common type of leukemia in adults is Acute Myeloid Leukemia.

Which is basically a death sentence.  My age and the fact that I’m otherwise healthy help my odds, but even when people respond well to chemo, reoccurence is more likely than not, and one doctor said that he sees an average of 3 or 4 years between when people are diagnosed and when they pass away.

So that was a a definite worry.  But that’s something you would’ve seen in a complete blood count.  My numbers are high, but they’re not that high.

It’s the difference between, “well that’s concerning,” and, “bitch, you dead.”

Both the chronic types are easier to treat, slower to spread, and have higher survivability.  I can absolutely deal with that.

But now I have to wait another 2 1/2 weeks for the next step.  And I don’t know which tests he ordered, or whether he’ll want to do more blood work, or if we can just skip to the bone marrow biopsy.

Which is what I would prefer, actually.  He said that, because the test is so brutal, he doesn’t like ordering it unless he absolutely has to, and all he had was my basic blood work results, so it’s understandable that he’d want the more detailed test results before going that route.

I’m just hoping he ordered them all, and got them all done at once.  I mean, I have literally never had anyone take that many vials of blood at one time before, so it’s likely he ordered them all, but I won’t know until the results are analyzed and posted.

It’s always the waiting that sucks the most.

But I do have some fun things to keep my mind off of it.  Like the new birth control pills I got for Sounder.

He hadn’t been taking them for awhile.  An interesting side effect we noticed is that he completely lost his ability to jerk off, or cum like a man at all.  The only way he can cum now is through prostate stimulation.

Like being fucked like a bitch.

Which I find amazingly awesome, by the way.

But I was curious to see if it was reversible.  So after his 2-month supply ran out, I wasn’t in a rush to get it refilled.  I wanted to see if Tammi Lynn would regain function.

But it’s been months and months, and nope, he still can’t cum like a man.  So at this point, I’m assuming it’s permanent, and there’s no reason not to put him back on the pills.

So I went to see my gynecologist for a prescription, and to ask for a brand with a higher dose of estrogen.

And that’s where I discovered a bit of a problem.

As it turns out, all the leukemia bullshit interferes with a doctor’s willingness to prescribe hormonal birth control (I knew I shouldn’t have told her, dammit.  I usually don’t tell doctors anything they don’t absolutely need to know.  I broke my own rule and shot myself in the foot).

And it’s not like I could tell her the pills weren’t for me.

So she wouldn’t prescribe it at all.

But

My internist, who is an incredible doctor and easily persuaded, wanted to see me that afternoon for afternoon follow-up from a recent ER visit (I’m fine. It was “stress.”  Because apparently no one told the ER doctor that female hysteria isn’t a thing anymore.  Turns out, it was actually another symptom of, you guessed it, leukemia).

So I convinced him to prescribe the same pills he’d given me before.  It’s a low dose of estrogen, but it’ll work.  And I’m likely going to have to get approval from my oncologist if I want to up the dose.

So the low dose is as good as it gets for now.  But I liked the effects it had on him before, so that’ll work perfectly until I can just flood his system with estrogen.

Because even though the effects so far have been relatively mild, they’re still there, long after he stopped taking the pills.  His tits are still softer, his hips are still rounder, his ass is still perkier.  Putting him back on the pills will likely cause some more awesome (and permanent) changes to his body.

Isn’t that exciting?

It’s pink!

So, as I may have alluded to previously, I recently got to do some amazingly fun, super awesome shopping for my darling sissy slut.

And I picked out the loveliest of lacy pink bedsets, and eagerly awaited the delivery.

The original plan was to not tell him when it got in, and go to his house while he was at work, set it all up on his bed, then leave so he’d never know I was there.  He’d come home, just like any other day, and walk into his room to see it there waiting for him.

He’d know it was coming, of course.  I mean, I’ve only been talking about it for weeks.  Of course he knew it was coming.

But he didn’t know when.  So it would be a fantastic mindfuck.  Not only would there be the shock of the bed itself, but also everything it represents.  It’s the first step in sissifying his entire house, I’ll have him gangbanged on it, when he sucks his friend’s cock, it’ll be on it, every night it’ll be the last thought he has, and every morning it’ll be the first.

That was the plan.  And it was a good plan.  I liked the plan.

However, there’s something about me that my subs know, but my readers likely don’t.

I am a total child when I’m excited about something.

In a good way, mind you.

“Giddy” is definitely an accurate descriptor.  And, for as much as I work to cultivate my super-intimidating-totally-terrifying-evil-bitch persona, “giggly” is just as accurate.  I have literally been known to squeal like a little girl at a Justin Bieber concert (is he still a thing?  Or is that reference obsolete?  Nevermind, I don’t care).

And this applies to every part of my life.  For example, I think there’s been once that I’ve managed to wait until the appropriate gift giving occasion to give something I was excited to give.  And I realized early I had to give Kazander the authority to keep me from giving the spawn her Christmas/birthday/whatever presents early.

Waiting for a particular date or something is easier, because there’s nothing I can do.  I’m excited to go to Cancun this fall, but it’s easy to wait because I can’t just up and go earlier.

Dates are easy.  Things are hard.  Secrets are hard.

Seriously, I’m like a kid on Christmas morning.  Total child.

And I’ve been beyond freaking excited about the bed.  I was checking the tracking info like every twenty minutes.

When it finally got in, I tore into it immediately, saw how unbelievably pretty it was in person, and my excitement went through the roof.

Christmas morning and Justin Bieber concert all rolled into one.

And I couldn’t wait.  I told Sounder right then that it had gotten in.

And man, it is pink.  My sister in law saw it as I put it in the washing machine and said, “What is that?  That is really, really pink.”

Which, naturally, I had to relay to Sounder.

I went to his house with the bedset in the original bag it came in (but I’d taken the picture and label off.  I didn’t want him seeing what it looked like).  Even though I couldn’t keep the surprise, I still wasn’t going to let him see it until it was all set up and beautiful.

I took it upstairs, told him to stay downstairs, and stripped his bed.  And began the thoroughly enjoyable process of transforming his bed from something any masculine man would feel comfortable sleeping in to something indescribably pink, frilly, lacy, and delightfully feminine.

And I’m usually not a perfectionist, but I certainly was that night.  I wanted every pillow perfectly placed, every piece of lace trim meticulously positioned, every detail just so.

So that when he walked in, and saw it for the first time, the image would be forever seared into his mind.

I think I achieved that goal.  Truly, it was spectacular.  I was beaming when I finally told him he could come up, and I watched him walk (much more slowly than he usually walks) into the bedroom.

He looked at it, sitting there in all its pink glory, then took a deep breath and said, “Yeah, that’s worse than I expected.”

I think I squealed out loud.  I know I definitely did in my head.

And he, being the sweet, obedient bitch that he is, picked out a new lingerie outfit to commemorate his new bed.  Something pink and frilly and equally humiliating to match the bed.

So he put it on, and goddamn, it was so fucking hot.  It was definitely the most feminine, delicate, girly thing I’ve seen him in.

And he picked it out all by himself.

Or, perhaps more accurately, herself.

It was time to christen the new sissy bed.  I put him on all fours in the center of the bed, his back arched and his boy pussy out and ready.  It was an incredible view.

I didn’t waste any time, and slid a big cock in him.  His soft moans were so cute as I fucked him.  And then he came with my cock in his ass and his face pressed down in the pink sheets.

It wasn’t my strapon, though.  I didn’t touch him at all as I fucked him.  The only sensations he felt were the the pink bedset under him, the soft lingerie against his skin, and the cock inside him.

And he came, hard and often, like a horny little slut.

Then, when his ass was raw and throbbing, I fingered him to a couple more, grinning as he squirmed and writhed on the bed.

It was every bit as hot and humiliating as I wanted it to be.  And now he has a gorgeous sissy bed.  And I can’t wait to take the next step in sissifying his entire house.

One hell of a surprise

You know what’s really funny?  Scheduling a post to upload, and completely forgetting about it (including forgetting to finish it) until you see all the email notifications the next morning.  I’ve been a bit scatterbrained.

In other news, I’m out of Asheville and made the trip back to the bustling metropolis of Kernersville, North Carolina (population: 24,000).  But there’s reliable internet and air conditioning, and it’s reasonable to assume that, staying indoors, I’m safe from mosquitos and bugs eating me alive in the night.  So now I’m playing catch-up.  If you’re waiting for communication from me, I promise it’s coming.  Before I go to sleep tonight.

Yesterday was intense as fuck, and by the time I made it back to civilization, my first instinct was to find a way to get myself centered and balanced again.

I don’t know if any of you are aware of this, but there’s this adorable, awesome sissy I own, who is all kinds of awesomely awesome awesomeness.  From the very first text he sent me after I told him I’d finally finished with the hippies and was heading to a hotel for the night, he made me smile.

Before losing touch with technology, I’d given him an assignment.  I wanted him to fuck himself, and I wanted pictures.

This isn’t a unique assignment, I often have him do it.  I love the idea of something filling him up, and I’m a very visual person, and I love looking at porn.  So it’s not unusual for me to want pictures of my boys.  My very own personal porn stash, made just for me.

And Sounder has been fighting a cold, and wasn’t 100%, so I knew the pic(s) he sent me would be on the more mild side.

But hell, I wasn’t going to complain.  He’s fucking hawt, and seeing pictures of him naked or in lingerie, with something sticking out of him, never fails to make me happy.

I asked him about the pictures, and he told me that yes, he’d taken them, and asked if I was in a safe place for them.

Which immediately caused me to raise a brow.  He’d never asked that before.  But I shrugged that thought off and told him that I was alone-ish (my kid was in the room with me, but she was otherwise occupied), and that he could send them.

Over the next five minutes, my phone went off 9 times.  And literally, all I could do was sit there, staring at my screen, stunned, my jaw dropped.  I’m pretty sure I was drooling at some point.

Like, holyfuckingshit.

No, seriously, like holy.  fucking.  shit.

Three different toys, one outfit change, in three different rooms of his house.  Like, oh my gawd.

And every one was unbelievably fucking hot.  Like, I want to get them printed and frame these fucking things.

You guys don’t understand.  He even wore the bra I’d left him in one of the pictures.  Two pictures of him plugged, one of him sucking his massive dildo, three of him either on all fours or on his back, fucking himself with a slender blue vibe, and three of him squatting on the floor, fucking himself with the massive dildo, that was attached to the floor with the suction cup on the end (he told me that, because of the size, it’s much easier to manage when he can attach it to something and fuck himself that way, rather than using his hand to push it in).

It was beyond hot.  Like, holyfuckingshit.

He said, “I’m glad you like them, I figured you might need a distraction so I went a bit overboard.”

While he was still fighting a cold.

No seriously, I fucking love this girl.

The first picture he sent, one of the ones of him plugged, he told me he’d be comfortable with me sharing, as long as I blurred the background beyond recognition.

 

2016-08-07_20.45.16

Yay!!!!!

I love everything about it.  I love the way his back is arched, the way his ass sticks out, the way his posture accentuates his feminine curves, the way his hair (which he curled, himself) tumbles down his back, the way the plug peeks out from inside him, the contrast of the black lingerie against his pale, smooth skin (that I immediately want to bruise and mark up, as soon as I see it).

Jesus, there is nothing about this sissy that doesn’t just ooze fuckability.  No one would ever kick him out of bed.

This was the first picture he sent me, and as soon as I saw it, all I could do was suck my breath in a little and murmur under my breath, “Oh, Goddamn…”

So I know the position he’ll be in next time I fuck him.