Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Thanks For Giving...

Ah, Thanksgiving is upon us, and although I didn't grow up with this holiday, I nevertheless, get into the spirit of thanking all the boys and gurls for giving to Me.

This year is actually going to be different, meal wise.  No turkey on my table.  just loads of sides.  After several years of only eat poultry, I've gone the whole way and am now a vegetarian.  There's just a nice warm feeling when I look into the eyes of a cow, a pig, a sheep, and now a chicken, a turkey, a duck--knowing I can say... "yeah, I'm not going to eat you."  It's okay.  Relax.  This is not going to be a lecture.  Don't you just hate those svelte vegans who just walk around like their shit don't smell.  (Ooops, it... probably doesn't!)  Anyways...

Picture the day...
Fussing around in the kitchen, dressed in pretty pink panties, heels, and a little lace apron, tottering back and forth, checking the veggies, making sure the stuffing is fluffed. A pie is warming in the oven, the little pink iced cupcakes and the strawberry and lemon curd tarts on the desert platters.  The table is set, the port in the decanter, the wine nicely chilled, a fire blazing in the hearth, a wind blowing outside, and the sounds of happy lively turkeys gobbling in the field beyond.  A Jersey cow makes her way up from the pasture to the kitchen window and looks in with wide innocent eyes, a scurry of little pink piglets dance in and around her legs.  The sound of Geese in the distance as they fly safely overhead and into the clouds.  Oh what a perfect day it is...  for there is Mistress, reading a book by the fireside.  Her legs beautifully displayed in silky sheer nylons and her favorite black pumps.  Red skirt, slightly raised on the upper thighs, as she reclines on the Laura Ashley sofa, pillow at the back of her head, hair falling over the pillow.  She looks so perfect, so very relaxed, knowing all will be ready for her guests. 

The door bell rings and guests arrive bundled up warm, coats and hats taken, respective gloves put in pockets. Boots and shoes taken to be cleaned of the dirt, polished and given back, one by one.  Laughter comes from the sitting room, Mistress sounds so happy. Checking, checking, waiting for the signal.  The look is there...

Dinner is served, Ma'dam.

Mistress saunters over to the dining room table, the glow on her cheeks still there from the warmth of the fire. In come the others, friends that pale beside her, yet must be treated with equal respect.

The food is served.  Everyone so complimentary regarding the meal.  Drinks and  a toast given in praise of the hostess and the meal "to Mistress Beverly and the ...."  a sudden awkward silence, and Mistress steps in and finishes the sentence "my sissy".  I am so proud.  The cupcakes, tarts and pie brought in. More compliments, more laughter.  Oh, such a lovely day.

Time to clean everything away.  Kitchen must be spotless before taking time to eat something.  At the kitchen table, finally some food sampled and one would have to agree, the sissy did a good job.  Everything nice and tidy, spic and span.

People beginning to say their goodbyes.  Get the coats, wait by the door.  Help where necessary.  Last out the door and Mistress can rest. 

A nice foot massage for Mistress' feet, and then just falling... into the stool position, feet rubbing against pantied bottom as she goes back to reading her book.  The fire is beginning to slow but a shake of that beautiful mane signals to remain still and let embers burn out. 

Mistress moves to retire upstairs, quick to follow, pulling back the sheets, laying out the satin nightdress, running the bath water, lighting the candles in the bathroom...  hand mittens on, soap in hand, carefully gliding over the warm silky skin, arms and shoulders, legs and feet, bosom and back.  Towel between open hands, ready to mantle the perfect form.  Back to the bedroom, pillows fluffed, satin nightie ready to drape and fall....

Kisses on each toe, kisses soft and delicate to the soles, watching for a signal, a sign, a release of some sort.  Dismissive, distant, probably tired from her very full day.  Nothing more required.  Backing out of the room respectfully.  So thankful the day was good for Mistress, so thankful for her blowing me a kiss as I shut the door quietly.

The end.

You know, one of those...what if, or wouldn't it be nice, moments.  HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL.

Signing out,
Ms. London.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Where were you on Halloween?

As for me, I spent part of the evening listening to a musician serenade me with his repertoire of songs.  I had already celebrated earlier last month at Universal Halloween Horror Nights.  Now, that was a treat!  Universal, like Disney, knows how to put on a show.  The thing about theme parks is you have to go VIP to enjoy passing the line of ordinary people, and jumping right to the top.  I love those moments when you feel you are on the better side of unfair world.  I can be such a little snob at times.

Anyway, dear mortals, where were you come Halloween?  It's the one night when you can dress yourself up, put on make-up, panties, dress, heels, wig, etc. and... get applauded for your get-up!  I think every little sissy boy (cross dressers, especially) should be out somewhere all dolled up, making it his night to be the belle of the ball.  I mean, if humiliation is your thing, you could really get laughed at, and if being femme is your thing you could be admired for the absolute transformation.  And, here's the best part, the next day no one is going to accuse you of being anything but a man with balls!   Yeah.

So, I just took some photos off the internet because  I'm too late to inspire you this year, but maybe for next year...













 Low on the 'ball' factor, you can always dress up with ruffles or a skirt.
Ruffled shirt, tight pants--what's not to like

Aye, I'm no lassie, but I do love me little plaid skirt
Well, this post is short and sweet (like candy).  The next one will be much more tricky (promise).

Ms. London.