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From: Melanie <melsz@earthlink.net>
Subject: Story- Form fantasy to reality- Part one
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===================
FROM A FANTASY TO REALITY
IN TEN LONG DAYS
Chapter One
Somehow, something in my mind or childhood developed very
differently from that which might be considered normal in the minds of
most people. From an early age I've always had an extraordinary interest
in anything to do with torture. Mind you, this has always been an
interest in researching the different forms used throughout time, going
back many centuries, as well as reading about modern times. But unlike
most researchers, my mind focused on the physical and psychological
effects on the recipient of said torture. I've never felt any desire to
hurt another person. Never did I consider, or have any interest in
hurting pets, or any other living thing. Just show me a picture of a man,
which I am, being abused by another and my interest was immediately
aroused.
Over time, I've read many books, watched many a video, and
mentally envisioned too many scenarios to possibly recount here. Videos
of course were best, for the graphic detail. But, I really loved the
books too. The descriptions of what was going on in the mind of both the
abuser and the abused were frequently read and re-read by me.
My earliest recollection started when I was ten or eleven years
old. My parents owned a neighborhood grocery store. When I wasn't in
school, my parents often dragged me to the store rather than hiring a
sitter, giving me little things to "help" with. Keeping me out of the way
was the real object of this, naturally. When not occupied with some small
task I often stood by the large magazine racks and read most of the
comics. The issues of "Life" and "Look" had great pictures in them in
those days too and drew my attention.
One day an issue of war stories caught my eye. On the cover was
a picture of a soldier with no shirt, his hands tied above his head, and
a bunch of stripes across his back. Red, sore looking stripes that must
have been put there by the person in the foreground yielding a whip.
Picking up the magazine and thumbing through it, there was an article on
the treatment of POW's and their treatment by the German's in WWII. I
couldn't put the article down, and my fantasy began. And to add fuel to
the fire, each months issue seemed to have at least one similar article.
Chapter 2
Over the years I got my hands on whatever material I could, but
it was very limited. My first wife was not very open minded and to have
broached the subject probably would have sent me to a psychiatrist or
resulted in a divorce. Looking at different materials during this 25 year
marriage introduced me to the phenomenon of cross-dressing. Being a
normal red blooded male, Playboy, and a couple of other magazines made it
into our home. We sometimes shared a look at them. Playboy did a large
piece on cross-dressing. When my wife saw the article, something I made
sure she saw because of my own interest, she ridiculed the practice
feeling no real man would ever do that. They must all be gay. Little did
she know her husband secretly had collected some woman's clothes and make-
up and dressed up a few times per year. I knew then that broaching the
subject and openly sharing this first fantasy turned reality was not to
be shared with her. There wasn't a gay bone in my body, just a little
femininity lurking underneath.
Moving on, after my marriage of 25 years dissolved and I moved
1500 miles from the only state I had ever lived in, I continued living a
very vanilla life, as they say.
I still saw an occasional video or magazine on these subjects but it
remained a fantasy despite my being single and able to pursue any avenue
I desired. It still was nothing more than fantasy, but adding to my
dreams was the new phenomenon of femdom. If not new, it certainly was to
me. And boy did it ever peak my interest. To indulge my fantasies at the
hands of a strong, dominant women seemed like a lifelong prayer was being
answered. This is where my thoughts went, and was the kind of works I
tried hardest to find information on.
Then I met Diana, soon to become my Princess, Diana. We married
less than a year after meeting on a website dedicated to matching up
people of similar likes, personalities and goals in life. There was no
mention of my fantasies in my profile. I hadn't resolved myself to
attempting to realize those dreams yet. Diana became my life. She was
beautiful, smart and had the same passion for life I did. We shared a
love for the sea, both of us with lifelong boating backgrounds. And she
let me know she was very open-minded when it came to sex and fantasies.
Nervously, I talked of my submissive fantasies and desires to dress as a
female on occasion. I tried to reassure her I had no homosexual desires,
was not bi-sexual, but just liked to express a little femininity on
occasion. She felt dressing up was at least something that many men
indulged in. Some reports have said as many as one in seven have done so
on an occasion or two. The reports also indicate only a small percent of
these men are actually gay.
She was also willing to explore my fantasies of femdom. Over
the next couple of years we purchased and or made numerous items of
restraint and also items used for the infliction of pain. Whips, clamps,
chains and even a cattle prod became just part of the repertoire of items
Diana began using to indulge my fantasies. Though she could not fathom
why any human would wish to be whipped, humiliated or degraded, she was
willing to help me indulge in some fantasies. It was agreed from the
start it would never physically involve anyone but the two of us. We were
not swingers, and neither had any desire to involve anyone else in our
love life. We did go on line and searched out other couples with similar
interests. Eventually developing a long lasting relationship with another
couple that has a cross-dressing husband. We have had a couple of girls
only nights with them. They are friends and nothing more. We did attempt
to contact others, especially in the femdom area. Unfortunately, the only
ones that responded wanted a lot more than friendship, so we quickly gave
up that pursuit.
For the next year or two we indulged maybe once every two
months or so in a scene. Diana became more and more proficient with the
whips, tried candle wax on sensitive areas. Her favorite "tool" was the
cattle prod. And it was my least favorite. My main complaint, I think was
she overused it. But what choice, the slave. Grin and bear it. She also
bought a strap-on and took away my virginity during this time. There's an
experience you can't describe. Diana marveled at how much pain I endured,
seldom using our "safe word" to get her to slow down. Mostly only when
she went overboard (in my humble opinion) with the cattle prod.
Unfortunately, after a couple of years she developed the feeling that
these scenes were not normal, and weren't good for the stability of our
marriage. They stopped for about two years, happened again one time and
ended forever.
The worst day of my entire life. After six wonderful years I
lost my princess, to a rare form of cancer. I felt like life had lost
most of it's meaning to me, but after slightly more than a year of
mourning, it was time to make another big change in my life.
Chapter 3
We have arrived at the present day. The change referred to
involves, of course, my deciding to attempt to permanently get in to the
lifestyle Diana had so nicely introduced me to during our years together.
With her, it was a simple case that we were much more important than my
fantasies, so they returned to being just that. On my own for the third
time in my life, I decided that this was the last chance I'd probably
ever have to pursue this dream. My life with Diana, though only six
years, would be tough to replace. I could not have been happier. A little
sorer occasionally would have been nice :-). But she was a wonderful
partner I'll never forget.
It was time to start the task of finding someone who wanted to
become my owner. I had read stories of people whom had actually signed
contracts surrendering their lives and control over all they had, even
their right to live to another person or persons. Total and non-
reversible entrance into the dreams of most of my adult life.
I went on-line and set up an account with a dating service than
dealt with only one thing. Alternative lifestyles. Living on the
outskirts of a fairly large city, I only advertised for contacts within a
100 mile radius, hoping to find someone local. It was only sensible to
think that the first contacts probably wouldn't result in lifelong
commitments, so why travel too far.
I made a posting reflecting a few of my experiences and my love
of cross-dressing. Eventually seeking a permanent 24/ 7/ 365 arrangement,
but willing to begin in any way convenient for those searching for
submissive men. There were no restrictions on my part as to whether you
are woman or man, or even a couple. Not a person's race or any other
factor would sway my mind. It was time for me to surrender my existence
to someone that truly wanted control over every aspect of my life.
Preferably serving as a sissy slave, and preferably to a couple, but open
to discussing my future with anyone. For the next two weeks, all I got
was responses from men that obviously wanted me to meet with them, suck
their cocks, and then maybe talk a little. Obviously they had not really
read my post and had no clue as to what my ad was all about. Then I got a
response from a person identifying them self as Slave Missy. Slave Missy
informed me in her e-mail that she represented Mistress Carla, and if I
wished a meeting with her, I should first fill out the enclosed
questionnaire. I filled it out, answering a few basic questions and then
some about my experiences and how serious my desire to permanently become
someone's slave was. I guess I must have done OK with the answers as the
next e-mail directed me to go to a bar in a nearby town at 8PM the
following Tuesday for an in person interview. Don't be late. Wear a white
baseball cap with a big zero on each side to identify yourself.
I got there and hour early, sat at the bar and had two glasses
of liquid courage to settle my nerves. And waited for possibly the most
important meeting of my life.
Promptly at 8PM a young, beautiful and impeccably dressed woman
entered the bar, saw me, and motioned for me to join her in a corner
booth.
"I'm Ken, obviously. Would you care for a drink?"
"No thank you. I am Slave Missy and Mistress does not allow
that. I am Mistress' # one slave and handle this for her."
I lit a cigarette, asking if she would like one. No again, as
Mistress has forced me to quit that too. Hey, maybe there will be an
unexpected health benefit to all this, I thought to myself. Yeah, right,
on second thought.
"I see your wearing shorts, good," was the next thing out of
Missy's mouth. "Please hand me your cigarette." A puzzled look from me,
as she said she couldn't smoke. In an instant it was under the table and
stubbed out on my leg. I jumped a little and said "oh" loud enough to get
a glance form the bartender, but not much else.
"Just testing" smiled Missy. I wasn't smiling, just biting my
lip. "Please, we have plenty of time, so tell me all you can regarding
your life as it pertains to this application."
So, for the next 15 or 20 minutes, Missy was entertained with
the details of every aspect of my early exposure through my life with
Diana, and why I put in the ad she had read. I commented that Missy was
quite attractive and well spoken. She was college educated, and like me
had long had fantasies. When she tragically lost her entire family in a
DUI hit and run, she decided to escape. Similar to my story.
"Well, this interview is pretty much over. Once again you have
passed this stage and have a chance for a face to face meeting with
Mistress Carla. I'll now explain how that will happen and what you can
expect."
" You have until Saturday evening to think about this decision.
I will be here at 5PM to pick you up. If you are not here, never contact
us again. There is absolutely no excuse Mistress will accept for wasting
her valuable time. If you do come, I will lead you to my car, blindfold
you, and take you to meet Mistress. Dress casually. And bring a gift as a
token of
respect."
"Would it be possible to arrive dressed up?" I asked Missy.
"No, for two reasons. One is that Mistress enjoys forcing
womanhood on some slaves. You're desire for it is actually a negative.
Besides, you will have little use for clothes if you come." answered
Missy.
" On the subject of gifts, I have a cattle prod. Would that
and a dozen roses be appropriate?" I asked.
"Yes on the roses, no on the prod. Whatever you bring must be
brand new, besides Mistress has many similar items. You have five days to
think of something innovative."
"Now the most important thing I can say to you. Should you
come Saturday night, you will find yourself having a dinner interview.
You and Mistress will enjoy a lavish dinner together. At certain times,
usually between courses, you will be asked to do some things for
Mistress, some painful, some very humiliating. Just before dessert, if
you get that far", Missy said with a chuckle, "you will be given a final
task. If you complete it you will have passed, meaning two things. First
you are now a Slave to Mistress Carla. Second, you have no longer a
choice in the matter. Once you finish this final task, you have sealed
your fate and would not be allowed to leave under any circumstances.
Choose carefully before completing this final task for that reason. Do
you have any other questions or concerns?"
"No, thank you Missy." I left a $20 bill on the table and
walked her out the door. "See you Saturday" as we headed in different
directions.
" I certainly hope so", was all Missy said as she walked away.