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From: J R D <jrdss@pobox.alaska.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Mistake (CD, Romance, mf)
Date: Fri, 23 Nov 2001 02:10:05 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Had to get a new email, so I'm reposting my old works under the new 
addy to get it out.

Now, onto the boring stuff

-------------------------

DISCLAIMERS

-------------------------

This story contains scenes of an erotic and/or controversial nature, 
and is not intended for the perusal of minors.  Further if perusal of 
such material is considered illegal in your area or immoral by your 
religion or personal beliefs, you should likewise bypass this story.

This story remains the property of the author.  Permission is granted 
to download, photocopy, copy and repost so long as any such action 
contains these disclaimers, and no attempt is made to profit from 
this story.

All characters in this story are the creation of the author, and any 
resemblance to real persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental.

This story may contain aspects of fantastic science or magic.  The 
parameters of what this science/magic can accomplish are completely 
at the discretion of me, the author, and, as such, I make no 
apologies for any rules of "real" physics, chemistry, biology, or 
magic that may be broken within the story.

-------------------------

Now onto the fun stuff

-------------------------

THE MISTAKE

Tim, in his femme alter ego of Tamara, knocked on the stage door of 
an old theater.  He wasn't sure what was going to happen inside, but 
his best friend, Lydia, had told him to come here tonight, in drag, 
and he wouldn't be disappointed.  She wouldn't explain more, but Tim 
trusted her, so he had gotten dressed in his sexiest lingerie, his 
best red dress, shoulder-length blonde wig, 3" heels, and stockings, 
and come over.

A small square opened on the center of the door and he heard a woman 
ask, "May I help you?"

"Yes, I'm Tamara.  Lydia sent me."

The woman's voice almost immediately took on a hard edge.  "Ah, yes. 
Come in," and with a very snide tone, she added, "little girl."

As the door opened, Tim sighed.  Lydia had probably told her about 
his cross-dressing, thinking she was someone to be trusted.  But Tim 
had had to deal with a lot of prejudice about his cross-dressing, 
both from men and women, and had learned to tolerate the crap.  He 
could tell already that he was going to get more than his fair share 
from this woman before the night was over.

Part of him felt that he should turn around and walk away, but he had 
told Lydia he would come, so he walked through the door and followed 
the woman down a short hall to a small dressing room.  He saw racks 
of clothes, all of it sexy lingerie, off to one side.  The woman 
stepped over to a desk, and without turning around, said, "Okay, 
sissy boy, strip."

Tim was stunned.  "Excuse me?"

"You heard me.  Strip down to your lingerie.  If it's any good, we'll 
send you out in it.  Otherwise we'll dress you in something more 
appropriate."

"For...?"

"For your auction.  We're going to auction you off to the highest 
male bidder, where he'll take you home for an evening of sexual 
slavery."

Tim was shocked.  "Does Lydia know about this?"

The woman laughed.  "Of course she does.  She's the one who found us."

Tim frowned.  Lydia was wrong.  He wasn't just disappointed.  He was 
maddeningly disappointed.  "I think I better go."

Tim turned around and saw two giant men waiting by the door to the 
room.  He heard the woman snap her fingers, and the two men stepped 
forward.  She said, "We can do this easy or we can do this hard, 
sissy boy, but we are going to do this."

Tim turned back, and with a grim look in his eye, said, "Let me 
guess.  Either I strip to my lingerie or Heckle and Jekyll rip my 
clothes off?"

"That's a bright sissy.  Now strip!"  Tim just stood there and stared 
at her.  Finally she nodded her head to the men and said, "Boys."

They stepped forward and grabbed Tim, but as soon as they put their 
hands on his arms, he stepped back and jammed his elbows into their 
abdomens.  The woman had expected them to take it with a grunt as 
they had every other time someone had hit them in their guts, but was 
surprised when they dropped to the ground, gasping.

"Quick shots to the solar plexus.  Doesn't matter how big you are, 
it'll drop you like a stone."  Then Tim grinned.  "Didn't Lydia tell 
you I was a fourth degree black belt?  I've also taken the time to 
practice in high heels to make sure I didn't destroy my ankles in 
case I was ever in heels while doing it."

The woman reached back and grabbed a whip off the table and snapped 
it at Tim.  But he neatly sidestepped, stepped in, grabbed her wrist 
and the whip, then, before she knew what was going on, wrapped the 
whip around her throat.  He held the whip tightly enough that she had 
trouble breathing but not tight enough to cut off all her air.

She felt his hands on the buttons of her blouse and tried to deflect 
them, but then he delivered a quick rap to her abdomen, painful, but 
not debilitating.  He said, "Oh, stop it, you know you want this."

Gasping, she asked, "Why would I want this?"

"You assumed I did."

"But... you're a..."

"Sissy?  And why am I a sissy?"

"Well... look at you."

"Oh, so because I dress up as a woman, that makes me a sissy?"

"Well... yes."

"And the more woman I choose to be, the more sissy I am?"

"Yes."

"Well, there you go.  If it's true that the more woman I am, the more 
sissy I am, then if I were all woman I'd be all sissy.  And you're 
all woman, so that makes you all sissy."  She tried to protest, but 
he pulled the whip tight.  "Shut up.  I don't want to hear it.  The 
belief that a man who chooses to dress like a woman is inferior comes 
from the stupid belief that woman are intrinsically inferior to men, 
so if a man chooses to emulate a woman, he must be intrinsically 
inferior.  And I'm sick of people like you."

Tim grabbed her blouse and ripped it off of her.  He unsnapped her 
pants and dragged her to the door leading to the stage; her pants 
dropping around her ankles as she went.  As he opened the door, he 
said, "Think of this as a lesson in respecting your male sisters," 
and threw her through the door, quickly closing it and locking it 
behind her.

As he walked to the door, he felt one of the thugs grab his ankle and 
quickly side kicked his face, leaving him grasping his now bloody 
nose.  Tim stormed out to his car, wondering what the hell Lydia was 
thinking.

The next day, Tim had just gotten back to his apartment from work 
when he heard a knock on the door.  He went over, opened it part way, 
but when he saw it was Lydia, tried to quickly shut it.  Lydia jammed 
her arm against the door and said, "Tim, please!"

He didn't force the door closed, but glowered at her.  "You've got a 
lot of nerve showing up here after what you put me through last 
night.  I trusted you with knowledge of my cross-dressing, and you 
sold me out to... whoever those people were."

"Please, Tim, I thought you'd like it."

"Like it!?" Tim almost screamed before he dropped his voice to a more 
normal tone.  "That woman threatened to parade me around in my 
underwear before a bunch of slobbering, fetishist sadists, then sell 
me off like cattle.  What the hell makes you think I'd tolerate that, 
much less WANTED it?"

"Because of your... hobby."

"My transvestitism, you mean?"  Lydia nodded.  Tim shook his head and 
said, "Just go away.  I don't want to see you anymore."

She wouldn't let the door shut.  "Please, Tim, can't we talk about this?"

"Tell you what.  You find a textbook, a dictionary, a medical text, 
anything, that defines a transvestite as a sissified, masochistic 
homosexual and I'll consider talking.  Until then," he reached 
through the door and pushed Lydia away, "GO AWAY!" and then slammed 
the door shut.

A couple hours later, when he was in full drag (he usually spent a 
couple hours out of each day en femme) and heard a knock on the door. 
This time he checked the peephole first.  Seeing that it was a 
delivery man with a bunch of flowers.  Wondering if this guy might be 
a fake (Tim had heard stories about people like last night), he put 
the chain on and opened the door.  "Yes?"

"I've got a delivery for a miss Tamara Lewis."

"Wait a minute."  Tim went and got a ten out of his wallet for a tip, 
then came back and opened the door.  He handed the man the money and 
took the flowers, two dozen red roses.

The delivery man gave him a quick, "Thank you, ma'am," and left.

Tim took the flowers inside and checked the card first before even 
smelling them.  It read,

"Tamara,

I didn't find what you asked for,
but I do beg for forgiveness and
ask for a chance to talk.

               Lydia"

Tim got a weak smile and took a deep whiff of the roses.  At least 
Lydia knew what he liked in flowers.

Tim then heard some light taps on his balcony window.  Looking over, 
he saw a small bunch of pebbles fly up and bounce off the glass door. 
He opened the door and stepped out, not surprised at seeing Lydia on 
the ground, ready with another handful of pebbles.

As soon as Lydia saw him, she called out, "Tamara, please.  I was 
wrong.  I made assumptions about you which were totally 
inappropriate.  Can't we please talk?"

Tim, since having vented earlier, was feeling a little more 
forgiving.  He leaned on the railing, stretched out his hand and 
curled his finger at her in a come hither gesture.  Lydia sprinted 
towards the door at a dead run.  Only a few seconds later, Tim heard 
the doorbell ring.  He checked the peephole and saw that it was 
Lydia, fidgeting nervously.  He opened the door and said, "Come on 
in."

Lydia quickly stepped through the door, as if afraid that he might 
close it before she could step in.  As soon as she stepped in, and 
Tim had closed the door, she said, "Tamara,...  Tim, I am so sorry. 
I made assumptions about your life that were totally... wrong.  I 
just wanted you to be happy."

"Whatever made you think I'd want that... scene last night?"

"Well, I just assumed because of your cross-dressing.  I thought all 
transvestites were into that kind of stuff."

"Well, you were wrong.  The belief that all of us are really just 
masochistic homosexuals is just a stereotype.  I don't dress because 
I want to get fucked like a girl.  I dress up because a very strong 
part of me is in need of expression, a very feminine part.  I like 
who I am.  But it took me a long time to come to grips with what I 
am.  And it annoys the hell out of me when people try to pigeonhole 
me without trying to understand me."

"But aren't most TV's into that stuff?"

Tim sighed.  "I don't know about most, but I'll grant that a greater 
percentage of the T-community, TV's, TG's, and TS's, experiment with 
the BDSM lifestyle, but that's because T-girls have already had to 
overcome society telling them, 'You can't do that.  It's wrong.'  I 
suspect that if more people got over worrying about what others 
thought, more would give BDSM a try.  But I have tried it and I don't 
like it.  And if you'd've asked me, I'd've told you about it."

Lydia looked down shamefully.  "I am so sorry, Tim.  So you're not a 
homosexual?"

"No.  Except for some teenage experimentation, I have never been with 
nor desired to be with another man."

Lydia shuffled around a bit, before saying, "Oh, hell with it."  She 
threw her arms around his neck and planted one of the most passionate 
kisses he had ever had on his lips.  Tim was too stunned to respond. 
When she finished, she pulled back a bit.  Leaving her eyes closed 
for fear of seeing rejection on Tim's face, she said, "I only wanted 
you to be happy, Tim.  I love you.  I never said anything because I 
thought... that you'd never be interested in me."  She opened her 
eyes.  "But could you possibly forgive me, and... give me a chance? 
Romantically?"

Tim, still a little stunned, stared at her for a bit before saying, "Okay."

She kissed him again and this time he kissed her back.  They moved 
towards his room, still entwined in each other's arms.  They finally 
separated once they were there.  Tim turned around and asked, "Unzip 
me, please?"

Lydia unzipped him, and helped him out of his dress.  He then helped 
her to undress.  She kissed him again, their lipstick covered lips 
sliding sensually across each other.  She went to her knees before 
him, pulled the edge of his slip up, and pulled his panties down. 
Seeing his dick was already hard, she asked, "Is that me or the 
clothes?"

"You.  Definitely you."

She smiled, leaned in, and took his dick in her mouth.  She gently 
sucked him, getting off on the silky feel of his slip rubbing lightly 
against her nose.  After a few seconds he said, "Stop.  Stop please."

She pulled off of him.  "What?  Did I do something wrong?"

"No."  He pulled her to her feet.  "I just wanted to do you, and I 
wasn't going to be able to hold off too much longer."

"Okay."  As they walked to the bed, she said, "Tim, I don't know if 
you'll think me weird for asking, but could you... stay dressed?  I 
thought it'd be too weird, but... it's actually a turn on."

"I thought you'd never ask."

She lay down on the bed.  Tim got up on the bed between her legs.  He 
leaned over and put his lips to her womanhood and gently licked her. 
As waves of pleasure washed over her, she threw her head back and 
moaned.  The next time she opened her eyes, she looked down and saw 
this blonde between her legs licking her out.  In her state of 
excitement, it took a few seconds to remember that this was her 
friend, Tim.  She moaned, "Oh, Tamara," and felt Tim redouble his 
efforts on her.  Soon she felt the pleasure build to the point where 
she couldn't hold back and screamed in orgasmic release.

He slid up her body, his slip rubbing against her body in the most 
tantalizing way, not giving her a chance to cool down.  when he got 
close to her face, she grabbed him and pulled him close and kissed 
him.  She felt his rod poking her leg, and reached down and slid it 
into her.  "You're so hot," he moaned.

Lydia giggled.  "I never knew I could get a woman so hot."

Tim smiled.  "You do know how to flatter a lady."

They kissed and moved together.  As Tim shafted into her, she felt 
his "breasts" press on hers.  She knew they were only simulated 
breasts, but the feeling was so sensual and exotic, she couldn't help 
thrashing in desire underneath him, and soon they came together in an 
explosive orgasm, dissolving into a writhing mass of bodies.

After they came down, Lydia stroked his side through his slip.  "That 
was so incredible.  I thought making love to a man in women's clothes 
would just be too weird, but you were incredible."

"Thanks."

"Tim, do you really forgive me?  'Cause I do love you and I just 
wanted you to be happy."

"Yes, I forgive you.  If I didn't, we wouldn't have done this.  Just 
talk with me before you do anything like that again."

She kissed him.  "Deal."

"Lydia, thinking about last night, should I be worried about those 
people?  I'm not going to be attacked in the middle of the night, or 
some such, am I?"

"No.  But it was a little surprising when you threw the official 
dresser out onto the stage in nothing but her underwear."

"So they're not going to come after me?"

"They better not.  Not after they..."

"What?"

"They made me pay them a hundred bucks for the trouble you caused, 
since you were recommended by me."

"Sorry for that, but you should've talked with me first."

"I know.  But don't worry, I plan on getting it back out of you."

"Really?  How?"

She climbed atop him and straddled his body.  "By teasing and 
exciting my new lesbian lover until she gives me at least a hundred 
dollars worth of servicing."

"Once I give you your money back what are you going to do with me?"

Lydia grinned.  "I don't know.  I was planning on charging you a 
hefty interest rate.  At about 150% a day, you'll be paying me back 
forever."

Tim grinned.  "150% a day?  I think that's usury."

Lydia lay across him and nuzzled his neck.  "So you'll always have 
something to use on me in case I ever do something stupid."

"I think I can handle that."  The two kissed and then giggled girlishly.
-- 
"This is reality, not T.V.  Can't you tell the difference?"
"Sure.  I just like T.V. better."

J R D
jrdss@pobox.alaska.net

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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