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Chapter
7
"So tell me about this
feminization thing?" I asked Debbie. "Why is it that men like to
dress up like women?"
"Why, dear," she drawled
dramatically, "Haven't you ever heard that imitation is the sincerest
form of flattery?" She managed to hold it together for a few seconds
more before bursting into laughter.
She did manage to get
serious and continued, "I suppose it all goes back to their boyhood.
The most mortifying thing that can happen to a boy is to be called
a sissy -- to be like his sister. There is no way a developing male
is going to admit that he has a very natural feminine side."
"Men do have a feminine
nature, but it is beat out of them at an early stage in their development.
It's not quite the same with girls. It's OK to be a tomboy, but
an effeminate boy is shunned in society. A girl can play football
with the boys, and it is thought of as 'liberating.' But to have
a boy play with dolls -- unthinkable! A girly boy does not fit in
anywhere in society: girls giggle at him, his male peers tease him,
and adults look at him with a mixture of shame, disgust and pity."
"As a consequence, most
men never come to grip with their natural femininity. It remains
underdeveloped, and it's a gap they need to fill. That's where we
women come in. We know how to be women, we have a lot more practice
at it then men do. So, it is not at all surprising that they look
to us as their teachers."
"Most boys experiment
with cross dressing in mid-childhood, about 8 to 12 years old. Some
of them never stop."
"I think the most enticing
thing for men who like women's clothes is that it is so forbidding.
It's OK for a woman to wear a 'man tailored' shirt, jeans and work
boots. Heck, with so many women in the military today, even the
phrase 'Your mother wears combat boots.' is no longer an insult.
The response could just as well be, 'Yeah, and she's jump qualified,
too!' Women can wear men's clothes without anyone so much as raising
an eyebrow."
"But put a man in silk
or a skirt and eyebrows are raised all over the place. This is one
area where women have already won acknowledged superiority -- we
can dress any way we want, wear our hair any length we want, wear
just about any kind of jewelry, and wear or not wear makeup as we
wish."
"Boys don't have that
option, so they must experiment in secret. Anything done in secret
has an air of excitement about it. When you think about it, it's
only every day material. Men get turned on wearing cotton skirts
-- it's absolutely no different than the material in their pants,
but since it is in the form of a skirt, it becomes an object of
sexual arousal. All because it is forbidden."
I listened intently.
I knew that everyday articles of clothing could have an effect on
men. I just didn't know why. There seems to be no parallel in the
female experience. I remember klunking around in my father's shoes
as a little girl, but that was because the were my dad's shoes,
not men's shoes. I could never go "ga ga" over a pair of men's shoes
like Jason does over my heels, or even my Keds.
Yet I read the articles
in the magazines. I know there are whole magazines devoted to men
in women's clothing, and that there are people who make the extra
large sizes just to accommodate cross dressers.
Without any encouragement
from me, Debbie continued, "Then there is the whole shame attitude.
Men are conditioned to believe that they are supposed to be superior
to women. To become a woman is a step down. By imitating women they
are assuming an inferior position. There is only one catch to all
of this: If women are supposed to be so inferior, then why do so
many men want to be like us, and why is it so difficult for them
to become one?"
"It's hard for an adult
man to admit that there is something he doesn't know and has to
learn how to do. When that something is something a 12-year-old
girl can do, and he can't do it, then he feels inadequate."
"Men hate to ask for
instructions. They figure that they have to know it all. Nobody
ever taught them how to be a woman as they were growing up, so they
don't know how to do it. Now they have to turn to us to learn. That
makes them feel very vulnerable."
"If they are going to
make any progress at all, they have to admit that they have to 'go
back to school' and learn some more."
"That is exactly the
route I suggest taking. Men have to pick up where they left off.
There is a point in their childhood where they shoved aside their
feminine nature, and repressed it. This is the stage to which they
must regress, and then we can train them from there."
"Typically, children
start gender identification between the ages of 4 and 8. For a successful
feminization program to work for the typical male, this means taking
him back to the little girl stage. For some men you might find it
more beneficial to take them all the way back to diapers. Where
you go depends on you and Jason."
-=o=-
Life with Jason has
been absolutely wonderful since we've redefined our roles, and I
was ready to take it to the next level.
"Debbie," I said, looking
at her over our late-morning coffee, "I would have never believed
how satisfying my sex life could have been. I mean, Jason and I
had good enough sex before 'the change,' but now it's 100% better.
I really owe it all to you. I'm not the same woman I was six months
ago."
"Oh yes you are," she
shot back, "You just didn't know who you were. Most women have a
dominant streak and a hidden sexuality inside them. They just don't
know it. In most cases, it's pushed down before they ever have a
chance to discover it. Just as boys are encouraged to repress their
feminine side, girls are encouraged to repress their dominant side.
How many times have you heard as a girl, 'Act like a lady!'? How
many times have you heard 'Boys will be boys.'? Don't you think
that this has an effect on women?"
I sipped my coffee slowly,
"I never really thought about it."
"Most women don't,"
Debbie replied. "Some of them go through their entire lives without
ever realizing their sexual potential."
I sat and pondered her
words as she went on. "A lot of women rediscover themselves a little
later in life. It seems to happen when the kids grow up and leave
home, and they find time for the introspection that is usually denied
a busy mother. They start thinking, 'Is this all there is?' They
hear whispers, catch an article or two in a magazine and start investigating."
I nodded; it sounded
like the life story of most of the women I knew. Jason and I didn't
have any children yet, but we've both been sexually active for better
than a decade. If it weren't for a chance event. If it weren't for
Debbie opening my eyes, nothing like female domination ever crossed
my mind. Who knows how much longer I would have drifted in sexual
ennui, maybe never finding the happiness both Jason and I have experienced
with me in charge.
I giggled, "You have
that right. My mom's generation had nothing to go on. Women weren't
supposed to think about such things, and even if they did, there
was no place for them to go." I laughed aloud, "I can't picture
mom and my aunts pouring over a fetish catalogue the way they used
to do over the Sears catalogue. 'Oh, look at that. What a cute dildo!
Do which color do you like the best?' Not my mom."
"Nowadays, it's different.
I remember getting a hold of my first Cosmo -- I thought it was
rather bold, and I was just a teenager then. Now I've gotten a lot
bolder. I've even gathered up the courage to buy Forum and Variations
at the newsstand. Good thing they sell them there, I haven't worked
up the courage to go to a 'smut shop' yet."
Debbie interrupted me,
"There are smut shops and there are smut shops. Don't judge all
these places by one standard. There are plenty of reputable shops
around that are woman-friendly. In fact, some of them are even owned
and operated by women. We really need to 'do' one of these shops
someday. I think you're almost ready."
I raised an eyebrow
at that. "I ... I suppose so." I wasn't so sure about this, but
I figured with Debbie at my side, I would have all the moral support
I needed.
Debbie reached out and
touched my forearm, "Trust me, I wouldn't take you anywhere where
you would feel uncomfortable. You'll see, you'll have fun."
Debbie gave me a thoughtful
look as if she were weighing something in her mind. "Come with me.
I'll take you on a tour of one right now." She finally said, leading
me into her den. I wondered where we would be going at ten in the
morning dressed in running pants and sweats.
Without a further word,
she sat down at her computer and fired it up. I had only a vague
idea of what she was doing. Jason is the computer nut in our house.
I watched as things flashed across the screen in response to her
keystrokes and mouse clicks. I heard the familiar modem tones, and
in moments we were in something she called a browser.
She invited me to sit
down. "Here, you drive. I'll show you what to do." Before I knew
it, I was at a 'catalogue' store where they were selling all kinds
of things from leather wear to videos, just like in the magazines.
Debbie showed me even more. I was reading stories and articles from
women just like me: women who were just discovering the dominant
side of their sexuality. Debbie lead me on an ever-escalating tour
through what she called "bookmarks" to sites with increasingly explicit,
and severe content.
I was not prepared for
this. The magazines and books Debbie recommended to me were enlightening
enough, but I never realized how widespread and diverse the practice
of female domination was! What impressed me even more was that unlike
the dead, one-way communications provided by magazines and books,
here was a world in which I could interact.
Then it hit me, and
I said it aloud. "That jerk! Jason! All of this has been out there
all the time, and he's never told me! Well, his ass will pay for
that tonight!"
Debbie giggled. "Just
listen to you. Is that the kind of thing you would have said a couple
of months ago?"
"No," I admitted, "but
it felt good. This is going to be fun. I'm getting wet just thinking
about feeling the weight of his body on my lap, and seeing his lilly-white
butt in the air waiting for my palm to turn it pink."
"This is so delicious,"
I continued. "It's been harder and harder to come up with things
to punish him for. Jason's really turning into such a good and obedient
boy. I should be able to come with a week's worth of spanking for
this."
I looked back that the
picture on the screen. It showed a woman sitting on a seat with
a man draped over her lap. She had her hand, paddle at the ready,
raised for a spanking. Standing around the room and sitting on sofas
and chairs were her girlfriends, some sipping wine, but all smiling
as broadly as she was. What excited me most about this picture was
that these seemed to be 'normal' women. They weren't dressed in
leather or other fetish gear -- indeed, they could have been on
a break from the office. The glint in their eyes told it all. They
were enjoying this!
"How do I get this stuff
at home?" I asked.
"I'll email you the
information," Debbie replied, "Do you know Jason's email address?"
I gave it to her. "Good," she replied, "he has a full news feed,
and you'll be able to get access to everything a good domme needs."
Debbie gave me enough
information about the computer to get me started, and suggested
that I get Jason to teach me the rest. I was willing to learn my
lessons as soon as I taught him his!
-=o=-
Jason felt like a little
boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar when I confronted him
with my newly found knowledge of what was available on the computer.
What was even more satisfying was when I had him boot up, and there
was an email from Debbie.
I am sure that Jason
always suspected that something was up between us girls. We simply
spent too much time together not to talk about some intimate things.
He'd have to be exceptionally slow not to catch on to the fact that
many times after I've come home from Debbie's, I'd try something
new with him.
I am also sure that
he tried not to think about it. Now, he couldn't ignore it. Here
was proof that Debbie know of the kind of relationship we had. He
opened the message and started to read it. I commanded him to read
it aloud.
"Dear Jason," he began.
"Anne tells me that you have a very powerful computer system. It's
such a shame that you haven't put it and your talents at her disposal
voluntarily. Someone in your position should use every ounce of
his skills to please someone like her. I will leave it to Anne,
to take the necessary actions to assure that this kind of behavior
does not happen again in the future."
"Follow these instructions,
and if you have any questions, ask Anne, or you can email me at
this address. Do not email me without Anne's permission.
Jason read and complied
with the instructions. He muttered a couple of times, but in the
end figured out exactly what Debbie wanted him to do.
Soon, I was sitting
at the computer, and not only reading about women like me, in stories
written by women like me, I was on line and actually chatting with
women like me. There were men present in these chat rooms, but they
knew their places and kept to their humble selves. I giggled as
one woman admonished a man for speaking to her without getting her
permission. "Good boys don't speak unless spoken to." I reflected,
somewhat twisting my mother's words to me as a little girl. I was
a thrill to be in such a place where women wielded such open power,
and I bowed in their presence.
It made me so excited
that I nearly forgot about Jason's punishment. I discussed this
matter with the other women in the group, who welcomed me warmly,
and had a lot of sound advice to give me. I had an idea of my own.
"Jason dear," I said
while typing up a storm on the keyboard, "get your clothes off,
come under your desk and kneel facing me."
I managed to slip off
my skirt and panties as Jason disrobed. I gave up my seat momentarily
for Jason to get under the desk. He barely fit under the opening.
He squirmed like a dog caged in a kennel too small for him. There
was barely enough room to slip my legs over his shoulders as I pulled
the chair closer to the desk.
I told him sweetly and
quietly (no sense in yelling your orders when a gentle command has
the same effect), "You know what to do, honey." He did. As his tongue
touched my clitoris.
I thought of how lucky
we women are to have an organ dedicated to giving us pleasure. A
penis has to serve as a waste disposal unit and reproductive organ
in addition to its duty as a man's pleasure center. I wonder if
it loses some of its efficiency as the latter by generalizing its
function. A woman's clitoris, however, evolved for one and only
one purpose: to give her pleasure.
I imagine it is as difficult
for men to understand this concept as it is for us women to understand
things like men's fetishes.
I mustered up enough
concentration to return to the keyboard and monitor.
One of the things that
I liked most about this experience was that I had invaded his world.
This was his den, his computer, his desk, and his chair. Now I was
in control of it all.
The women on the other
side of the screen must have wondered what was going on as my typing
became increasingly sporadic and erratic. "Some other time," I told
myself. "Some other time, I'll tell them."
I learned all manner
of stuff on the Internet. I could "do" newsgroups, web pages, chat
rooms, email, order magazines, videos, and "toys," and get plugged
into the "community." I established a small circle of friends, both
women and men, who believed in the kind of female domination I enjoyed
with Jason: a loving, caring relationship where the woman's dominance
and the man's submission are the expressions of love they have for
each other.
There were thrill-seekers,
and "hard-core" people out there, but my interests were not with
them. Of course, what I took as a routine matter of course these
days would have been considered hard-core in my former lifetime.
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