Confession Of The Joie Variety by Carl

Confessions of the Joie variety.

I wondered into the courtyard on Saturday afternoon. I had just been shopping and was doing my best to wear what I had bought, easy right? Turns out I was wearing all three sizes of the dress I had bought with no Alfa layer, so my ass was hanging out all over the place.

A tattooed Lady dressed as a schoolgirl with sunglasses on noticed my wardrobe malfunction and started ordering me to put some panties on and adjust Alfa layer this and prim mesh that. As usually my brain start to lock up and compensate with a few witty comments.

This was a Lady I knew, always watched from a distance, a talented lady, whom I was afraid of. She has a sexy voice; it’s low in tone and makes you want to listen, carefully. She wore this tartan skirt; it was super short, a white shirt on her top that strained against her perfect breasts. She wore kneel high boots, they had a flat sole, although and they looked like they could deliver a mean kick so best not to bang on about them.

Now lets get down to the nitty gritty, my smart comments were not appreciated and while I was chirping away to Lady Joie she was devising a plan to make my life a misery. There were others around at the time, kor and Miss Storm; Miss Tika was near by too (eating a pizza, sexily). So Miss Joie starts to say that she was going to do something to me, something that had never been done to me before. I was thinking I wasn’t in the mood for a sounding. She asked me my limits, which we’re kids, shit and illegal activity when on a side note would include femdom if you lived in Saudi Arabia. But I digress…

Miss Joie told me I was going to be so miserable, all the time she spoke in her sexy low American accent. She told me to wear a male avatar for 3 weeks. She past it to me and I wore it. After a few seconds I looked like a mainstream TV actor from the jersey shore. All the time she teased me saying no more panties, no stocking, no corsets or skirts. Her voice was hypnotic and as She teased me the background started to fade; She probed me further, quizzed me on my fetishes, why did I cross dress? What did I like about seeing girls tied up? She asked me if I wished I had been born a girl but had decided to live as a man. I hadn’t done too much time on it but as she spoke to me I fell deeper and deeper under Her spell.

Her laugh, evil laugh, rang out across the yard. It seemed as though She became happier the more tormented and miserable I became. The more miserable and dissatisfied I was with my new, Mr. Sexy, muscly, over tanned look the more deliriously excited and satisfied she became. She quizzed me on why I dressed in female clothes to ascertain whether I was the good type of cross-dressing male or the bad creepy type. Seemingly the creepy type is one that has a female avi to place her in abusive situations and get pleasure watching her as opposed to having a personal emotional experience be experiencing sl as a cross dresser. Needless to say I’m a latter and passed Her test to that effect. I dread to think what would have happened to me if I had been the creepy type.

To me, submission transcends gender and as we spoke in a world in which all that remained way her mind and mine I explained that my cross dressing avi was merely a medium that helped along the way to submission. My avatar is like a rocket on the side of a NASA shuttle that falls away as I enter subspace, there after it is insignificant. As we spoke and she took up more and more of a position of authority I feel more and more into subspace and felt a familiar stirring in my cock, as it grew harder. My eyes rolled a little and tingles flew up and down my body. She said the only thing that would entertain and please Her more would be if I started to cry. Thankfully I had the self-restraint not to go there on a first date. But I would look forward to being deconstructed in the future.

After a little while she became bored and kindly discarded me for some more pressing matters. I left with the distinct feeling I had just sampled an addictive and intoxicating substance.