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I had progressed quite a bit in my month of becoming Trisha, letting my desires just ‘be’ for once instead of running from all the reasons I have them.

What will happen if I don’t fight it this time; will I be healed, freed, destroyed? I mean isn’t my generation supposed to be open minded and sex-positive? If someone else told me they were doing this, I wouldn’t judge them like I judge myself…but I knew there was more to it, at least with me…

Alone for the first time all day in the master bedroom, I thought about all of this, about last month at the hotel which was my first time with a man when fully dressed, just letting her take over after a few long years of purging, and my desires coming back again and again, and the depression, oh the depression.

My clothes had started to change as well. Before the hotel date, all my items, as hot as they were, were bought in a night or two, impulsively, on those cheap lingerie sites where everything is like single-use.

I had learned so much about ‘presentation’, and how to be a little more put-together for Daddy. I haven’t mentioned it, girls, but I went to college for Art History – not a lot of jobs – so I took the first boring office thing that came up to get me to Manhattan and I never left. I felt so guilty for ignoring my love of aesthetics and beauty, or maybe I was using it differently?

I wasn’t sure. But I wouldn’t dress in just the cheap stuff anymore. Maybe once in a while…

I had a special outfit just for this moment.

I unbuttoned the furry sweater, glad that it didn’t get too too wet with my sissy drool during his wonderful, rough facefucking…oh Daddy…I looked back dreamily at the door, the taste of his cock still in my mouth, hearing him moving out there bringing things in from his car…

My god, I’m losing it over him.

I moved my hand back to my neck; it has that feeling again, the feeling of him inside me, stretching me, filling me…

I quickly stripped off everything except my cage, plug and piercings, starting from scratch.

I dug through my rolling case, putting away nearly everything, all Trisha’s new clothes in the dresser across from the bed, then lining up the other 2 pairs of heels neatly.

I wanted to show him, to decorate this body, offer it to Daddy, offer him my newly smooth skin, my mouth and my pussy and everything, and I wanted him to see what I did for him, to be with him, to stay with him, to fuck him. I didn’t want to hide it right now under too much clothes, or nearly anything.

I stepped into the shower just for a a rinse off, super careful not to completely destroy what’s left of my eye work, when I noticed the elaborate piping under the hot/cold water dial. Oh wow, there’s like a full, um…what do I call this, a personal internal cleaning system, built in here. Wow, this house is really ‘fetish’-y, I thought, but it looks so normal.

Even though my day’s diet had consisted of only some tea this morning, and Daddy’s delicious warm cum that he had so forcefully pumped into my throat a few minutes ago…oh fuck yes, Daddy, thank you, Daddy…it had still been hours, so I took advantage of the gear.

I realized that sissies, and gay bottom sluts I guess, (is that what I should call them? oh I still have so much to learn, I thought) need to have a special relationship with their bodies, and especially with their soft little special place. As the warm water cleaned me, I reflected on all that I’m putting myself through physically for him; new sensations, new dreams, all for you Daddy.

‘I’ll be good I promise, Daddy,’ I said to myself, as I dried off dreaming of him.

My freshly-waxed skin felt alive and sensitive, tingling, warm but most of all, it felt smooth and vulnerable, like nothing else I’d ever felt, and being here with Daddy turned the sensations on high. I plugged myself again with Daddy’s amazing large acrylic gift from the car ride, and blushed, thinking of asking him to take a picture so I could see right up into me too…omg get dressed, you slut.

I put on a pair of hot-pink silk bikini cut panties with a snap-open crotch. ‘These are not going to last’, I thought as I smoothed them over my butt and felt them rise deep between my smooth, hairless cheeks, dreaming of his hands ripping them away from me. I bought them a size too small just so fatih escort my butt would hang out, offering my ass to Daddy to beat, and touch, and use, and…see, see Daddy, how much I need you…

I took a short quick involuntary breath feeling myself starting to disassociate, my male and female sides talking to each other but strangely not fighting for once. I wasn’t really telling myself to stop anymore, sometimes I was close to participating, ‘he’ was I guess, reconciling, accepting maybe, finding some truth that we just don’t have when fighting for control and sanity, some love denied us alone.

Just go…go with it, go with your feelings for once, it’s got to be better than living that way.

I always avoid mirrors when this happens now, but I caught my eye – her eye, so pretty and accepting, make-up on that telegraphed only ‘yes’ – in the large wall mirror next to the bed.

‘It’s ok now…I like it, and it’s hot,’ I heard her say with a little smile.

“Yea, it’s really…it’s really fucking hot,” I answered out loud.

From the dresser, I took out a pair of denim booty shorts, fetish wear with a thin pink leather braided belt, perfectly tight and lifting my ass up. The were so sexy and perfect, as I pulled them up and settled them deep between my cheeks over the panties, pushing the plug into me as far as it would go…ohh Daddy, I hope you love these…

I had found a shop online that makes denim platform stiletto shoes, custom sized, and I rush ordered a pair of ankle boots. The design is modern and smooth with platform high-heels, so super sexy in denim everywhere with a silver zipper up the back. Small, cute peep-toe cutouts where I was delighted to see a few of my newly painted pink toes, now unmistakably those of a sissy whore throwing it all to the wind for her Daddy, and all the denim pieces stitched carefully with the same grain direction, except the two-inch platform itself which was a light tan leather.

‘Ohhhhh my god,’ I moaned quietly as I put my feet into them making my clitty strain in the cage. I was really adopting his denim fetish, I thought. Wow, Daddy is molding me.

I had decided not to put any regular top on. I wanted to emphasize the body changes that I was making for him, and this would do it. I know he appreciates everything because he’s been so nice telling me, but I know eventually if we are going to stay together, I have to be proud of the changes, and do them for him and for both of us.

And that’s what I was going to do tonight.

Standing in the ankle boots and booty shorts, I opened an inner compartment of the rolling bag’s cover and took out a small jewelry box. From it I pulled what looked like messy strands of a large silver spider web, glistening in the dew.

I turned the delicate chains over and over trying to find the top or bottom and then…there that’s it…

Around my lower neck, lying close to my shoulders, I fastened the intricate choker design of chains. From it hung a small pink rhinestone heart in the center of my chest but just under my neck. It matched the twinkling pink hearts encircling my nipples. From the central heart ran five separate silver chains: two were for each nipple piercing, and one long chain that ran to my bellybutton. I attached them all with tiny little hooks.

I was going to prove it to Daddy, and to myself, one way or another.

I sat down in the bathroom to freshen up my face and hair, which I hadn’t cut in over 3 months except for Nicole’s styling today and it was growing out into so many femme possibilities. Daddy had given me permission to style it now but told me to bring my wigs too. I so want to give him my real hair to grab hard, like he did before so the wigs can wait.

I styled myself just the way I had been practicing, blowing out my hair, curling the ends, and wow, that conditioner and volumizer really work! No one tells guys about these things, I thought.

When I was ready, I squirted a few blasts of a delicate perfume into the air and walked through the cloud of scent, my denim heels strutting and clopping like a high-end escort about to make her first $10,000 score. I looked at myself in the mirror; she was being made real before me.

I left the bathroom and almost panicked thinking I hadn’t yet seen the most important fatsa escort piece, then I remembered I zipped it in the front of the carry-on, in a pocket that could only hold this one folded item, so it stayed flat.

I had gone thrifting and thrifting all over Brooklyn and downtown and couldn’t find it until I saw one in a window in the garment district. ‘Wait, they are making these now?’ I had to bribe the wholesaler for one, ‘just one, one, please, how much do you want?’

He slipped it to me and said ‘don’t come back; here’s my son’s shop, retail,’ and put a card in the jacket pocket.

It was a girls’ cutoff jean jacket, only three buttons instead of the usual 5 or 6, baring my entire midriff easily. I had decided to wear it with no top underneath so my waxed skin, my body, the chains, would be vulnerable and exposed just like my ass cheeks in the shorts and legs in the ankle boots.

I closed my eyes and pulled my arms and shoulders into it, wrapping it around me like Daddy’s arms. I could feel his lust, his power, his love, his hand teaching me, guiding me, using me, breaking me and healing me…Daddy, please…

I shook out my hair and swallowed nervously. Anything could happen tonight, and it’s almost certainly going to involve my tears and Daddy’s sweet pain upon this body and ohh fuck yes I accept Daddy I accept, and once he sees me in this.

I stood before the bedroom mirror, turning and letting the pretty little network of chains shine in the amber light. And finally, I painted my lips pink to match my booty shorts. Daddy fucking look at this slut, look what she does for you Daddy for your love, for your pain…

I strutted out slowly when I felt a different mindset than I had known when exploring my sissy kink – if this is even a kink anymore. I wasn’t male or female or anything suddenly, I was just me, and I didn’t have any judgements about myself good or bad to make, I just – was, I was was was. Being present ‘in the moment’ as they say, and I felt happy for once…omg…’am I happy now, is this happiness,’ I asked myself as I approached him…

He had made a plate of hard cheese and grapes and was nibbling looking at his business phone, two glasses of Prosecco bubbling patiently as he sat at the marble kitchen island. He had started the fireplace, giving the living room a beautiful flickering glow and woody scent.

I just stared at him for a minute.

Daddy.

I’ve waited for you for so long.

I know this is all amazing kinky fun and games and yes I’m going there with you, but it’s becoming more now; it’s already more. Bitch, don’t you fucking cry, I told myself. Give yourself to him, Trisha, give him all of me. He looked up and saw me standing, gazing at him from the bedroom door.

He froze, his eyes moving over me quickly a few times as he noticed what I was wearing, then slowly, then so so much slower.

I didn’t wait for a response, but strutted step by step to him, and started turning slowly, raising my hands over my head, letting the cutoff jean jacket open, showing him my new completely smooth skin, the two heart piercings ringing my nipples in pink rhinestones and the pretty, girly chains connecting them to my neck and belly button flower. I turned again to show him the tight denim shorts gripping my ass, pulling it even higher than the lift from the platform denim high heels, my legs totally bare and long and smooth from my ankle to my ass cheeks, just like my dream.

I saw a look on Daddy’s face for the first time; I think it was pride. Pride in me, in what he was creating, and what I needed to become, what I wanted to be for him, what he had done to me, and how I was embracing his fetishes as he had embraced mine. To him, they meant ‘I am his’; to me they meant ‘Daddy’, and he saw that, he saw how much I could give.

I turned slowly a few more times, pushing my ass out sensually now, showing him his work, his property, his eyes inspecting me with growing lust, and mine watching him for any cues of his approval. He was silent for a minute, just staring at me, then he stepped close, and then he touched me.

His hands…he was exploring me, then against me, putting his rough palms all over my newly hairless skin, my legs, my ass…’Daddy owns me’, i repeated in my head over and over, his demanding fethiye escort fingers squeezing my ass, mostly bare and porcelain-smooth in the fetish shorts, the warmth of his big chest then against my back…Daddy Daddy please…Then toying with my piercings and chains, caressing, and then flicking them, fingers under the long lines of silver links and around them, tugging at them slightly…

“All this in a month,” he said softly when he was behind me, as he started to plant strange soft kisses on my ears and cheek and neck.

I was breathing deeply, my adrenalin spiking from his soft bites stinging my neck again and again, and Daddy’s breath so close to me, my eyes rolling back in my head from his tender lips and so rough with his trimmed beard, kissing my cheek, my ear from behind me…ohh Daddy fuck…I’m yours dammit take me again now now, I thought, as I pushed my ass out wanting to grind against him, offer it to him over and over, I was so so horny from all day dreaming of him, already with his cum inside me, his cock in my mouth for so long…that cock, oh please, please Daddy…

He was so turned on, I could hear it in his low rumbling voice in my ear, trying to control his aggression and not just rape me on the kitchen counter although that would have been completely fine with me…the denim is working…

“Princess, I want you to wear something special for me,”

I nodded yes yes yes, thinking anything Daddy yes…

“On the counter there, in the pouch,” he directed me

I focused my eyes out of dreamland sissy lust in Daddy’s arms and looked down. In front of the champagne flutes was a black velvet pouch about the size of a small purse. I picked it up, curiously glancing back at Daddy, and back to it. Onto the counter, fell a baby pink heavy leather bondage collar, with a brass padlock, the keys still in it. Omg did I tell him about that? I don’t remember doing that.

But I knew what I had to do right in that moment, the most most obedient thing.

I picked up the collar, and turned from his embrace to face him, taking a step back.

Unlocking the padlock, I handed him the keys and the lock, and pulled the strap from the buckle.

I opened the gorgeous heavy-duty collar, which gave off such hot mixed signals with it’s promise of total obedience plus the sweet baby pink leather that almost matched my sissy toes and omg…am I ready…yes I’m so ready for this, I thought silently.

With both hands raised in front of me holding the opened collar, I offered it to him to put on me.

Daddy grinned, the biggest smile I had ever seen on him yet which was still maybe a half-grin. He let me raise my styled, but still too-short hair well off my neck and I lowered my head for him.

I felt the leather and Daddy’s busy fingers, touching me in such a vulnerable spot, him over me, protecting me, and using me, taking possession of me.

And i offer it, Daddy; I need you.

He pulled the strap tight, and I felt it going into the buckle. His experienced hands came around my neck bringing the strap to the metal D ring that went through one of the slits in the strap, and he placed the lock there and locked it and took out the keys, locking me in for the weekend, maybe forever, Daddy.

And I let my hair fall, and raised my head.

We stared at each other.

And stared and stared, drinking in the other’s body, thinking about all the possibilities. I knew that I wasn’t supposed to speak but I wanted to so bad. I had to, and he saw it in my eyes.

“Yes, angel?” He asked slowly; I could hear the lust in his voice. It was in mine too now.

“I’m yours, Daddy.”

“I know you are, princess,” he said without a trace of doubt in his voice.

Daddy picked up the two glasses of Prosecco and handed me one and we began something, our own little ritual, that we do to this day.

We drank and looked right at each other, in total silence, turning each other on just by knowing what’s coming.

We had done this at the hotel kinda by accident, but then we did it on FaceTime and now here. I mean we both like to drink a little so it helps that one of us isn’t falling over after a sip.

Now it’s a part of our life together, especially before a serious fuck with no end time in sight.

But I wasn’t thinking about all that; I knew that when we finished this glass, it’s on.

I had waited so long for the courage to try even a fraction of this experience, and now I’m all in, from my painted toes to my curled lashes…ohhh take me Daddy, use me, hurt me, fuck me, teach me…

Almost done with the glass…one more sip…

—to be continued

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