Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Fallen Prey

What an unusual – no, not so unusual, really – call. allie. Disquieted. Unsettled. Clearly, from the moment after she said hello, she felt tangled up in something. It turned out to have been a post on my blog! It turns out that Rachael’s estrogen cream struck a chord with allie.

Let’s make a very long story short, or reasonably so. At a certain point in her life, after bonds had been tied, if not probingly knitted, she came to realize that those passing, fleeting notions of taboo eroticism simply weren’t going to go away, regardless of what other obligations and responsibilities she had. she couldn’t wish them away, will them away, or send them away on a rocket ship to Mars. They were there, embedded deep in her core.

Yes, of course allie was, and is, a man, genetically speaking. But feelings she’d had from nearly as long as she could remember involved a feeling of surrender to the feminine. The silent brush of lipstick across a woman’s lips, the rustle of the skirt, the click of a heel on a wooden floor. They all stirred a sense of anticipation. Of expectation. Of safety and fulfillment on some very deep level.


So many things for a sensitive, observant, seductive woman to work with and use, and yet … sooo many women oblivious. And allie, much to her disappointment, remained free of the binding web that gradually unfurls as dim recollections are unearthed and explored with a Woman of substance.


So, unmet went the feelings that stirred allie’s core, and yet they lingered. Quiet at times. And then less so. her feelings reemerged, of course, first in the superficial wish to be dominated and overrun – a lovely playtime, but hardly the core of much of anything – and then, gradually, taken in hand and brought to accept all those horrible things that she would be subjected to as a submissive.


The feel of a heel lightly pressed against her flesh as she lay prostate on the floor, that wonderful symbol of the superior Woman. The gloved hand holding firmly to her face as she was chastised and scolded. The cinching bonds of the cuff around her wrist as she became vulnerable to the ministrations of a knowing Woman who would taunt and punish her for her weakness. The cool and then burn of icy hot applied to her sac.


All those horrible things, of course, were safer in the hands of someone who didn’t really care about her. They were imposed. Forced. Not part of her. No. Not at all.


But then, as with so many people of My acquaintance, a dim, distant light went on.
They were part of her. And acceptance would set her free.


Or so she thought when she made the acquaintance of a woman who was interested in allie’s openness to exploration and new revelation.


And for a time it did. allie could talk about anything and be accepted. And she felt free.


That was until the middle of the second month of the orally ingested hormones, when things started to develop. And there she was, a budding beauty. Oh, no, not voluptuous, but certainly noticeable. Visible to anyone paying attention, those increasingly round protrusions emerging from her chest. Increasingly free of her inhibitions, she was also disengaging in some ways from the very things that had tethered her to her increasingly boring, blandly vanilla life.




It wasn’t only the flesh of her chest that was stretching. Under the caring guidance of her new friend, other things stretched, as well. She skin of her sac. The tight band of muscle of her sphincter.


Also stretched, and reshaped, was her sense of herself. What had once seemed unspeakable and horrible had quickly become part of her nearly every day existence. What had once been terrifying became the norm, and what had once been normal became uninteresting. And she felt fulfilled.


allie’s story, dear readers, could lead to the sunset and the happily ever after ending that we would all want for her. But of course she did have other obligations, and responsibilities, and, sadly for her, her woman friend became impatient and a bit distracted.


And then, quite suddenly, allie was free – entirely too much so. Her partner in exploration made the acquaintance of a new partner, one whose breasts needed no external ingestion to develop, and allie was free from the much-desired bond that had liberated her. allie’s extra-curricular partner was still accepting – just not of allie. She quickly became increasingly distant and, finally, entirely unavailable.


Much to allie’s dismay, which is precisely how she, after a bit of searching, came upon my doorstep.


Lucky her. she reached out to Me, tangled in a tightly woven but neglected web with no one there to make sure the strands were secure and orderly. It took some time for her to explain all this, for her to get it out, and I must say her entire being seemed to both relax and flower – the conversation one, long exhale of relief, one fraught with emotion and, at times, distress, but relief.


And then the shiver and shudder. To be honest, I saw no point in putting her in a position of disconsolate vulnerability. It certainly wasn’t malice that prompted me to ask her to admit to it all. Just caring and the desire to nurture her. So you’ll just have to trust Me when I tell you that her tears were tears of gratitude, streaming down her face, as I helped her express her true state: damaged, and disengaged from the rest of her life, and grateful to be speaking again to someone who understood her helpless enslavement to an inner being alien to the world around her.


No, I don’t think of allie as all that unusual.


I think of her as fallen prey.


Ms. London

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