Alex – Alexia

by Richard of DownOnMyKnees

At 5′8″ and 125 lbs. he’d never be called manly. Very very pale rather blank blue eyes and a weak chin made him look like the kind of guy who’d been picked on as a kid. Which he was. Treated nastily by his father as well.

Which is probably why he needed what I was able to give him. Anyone who meets me sees someone invincibly self-assured. I sometimes tell people that I could sell my surplus self-esteem but foreign dictators. It is a bit of a front but sometimes advertising is everything. I could also give him unconditional affection and complete fidelity. While I think of monogamy as pretty silly I’ve always been so. And I could give him the experiences you, gentle reader, will get a sample of as this narrative continues.

Alex gave me the most cursory brush against my lips and headed straight for the bathroom. Right now his mind was focused on remaking himself. Anybody who meets him can tell he’s a “nancy boy,” “jane girl,” that is, a femme gay male. What you can’t tell on sight is that he’s a transvestite. Dressing as a woman is his supreme pleasure in life. Probably more than I am, I’m not stupid enough to ask.

I grabbed a kitchen chair and parked myself outside the bathroom where I could watch. This was ‘his’ bathroom. It was my house but we did not live together. I had a second, smaller bathroom downstairs leaving this one a place he could keep a bewildering array of makeup pencils, creams, brushes and ointments.

He was nude except for hosiery and heels that he’d stepped into as soon as he could discard his office clothes. It slowed him down but he knew how much I enjoyed watching how the heels made his ass checks move while he was working on his face.

I can’t give you an intelligible description of what he did to his face. To me it just looked like he put stuff on, then wiped it off. Drew invisibly on his face with some sort of pencil. Even though his art only baffled me it was always very sexy to watch him work.

It took him about twenty minutes. When he was done his eyes had somehow become bright, beautiful and very womanly. His chin mysteriously looked much stronger. And in my mind was becoming a girl. A girl named Alexis.

Putting on a simple short black skirt and top took moments. She did struggle briefly to get his wig on. The hair wasn’t very long and was thick, black and straight. It had cost her more than I cared to think.

Finished she turned around for my approval. I always felt a glow of pride that my pretty guy was also a handsome woman. Since we were going out I could look but not touch.

Ready to leave he slung a handbag over her shoulder. Casual is very polite description of how I dress so I’m always ready. We got in her car for the very good reason that I don’t know how to drive (a long story of no interest here). I always call her my ‘chaufferette’ when we drive anywhere.

The restaurant was middling. I don’t care much about eating out. But Alexis does and I couldn’t think of a better way to spend the time to make her happy. Besides we weren’t really here to eat.

Alexis’s expression was unreadable: maybe kind of drunken, or something animal. Doubtlessly really humiliated the humiliation satisfied a deep hunger.

In a way the meal was already over before we’d eaten anything. We agreed we couldn’t take this too far. Someone might try to rescue the ‘little lady.’

Still flush with excitement from scene in the restaurant the kiss she gave me before we got in the car assured me I’d have a hot and passionate slut when we got home.

Her hair was of a cut that looked good on men or women and she didn’t have a wig on. At my request she was wearing her PVC thigh boots, hot pants and a tank top. She looked like a new wave hooker on her day off. I’d asked her to dress that way. She thought I just wanted her looking slutty. That was true enough but I had a special surprise for her.

“Are you arguing with me, bitch-boy?” Mixing gender in my insults is always a warning she understands. There’s the hidden threat that I can wipe off the make up and take off the women’s clothing. That I can force Alexis to be Alex.

“Get down on your hands and knees in front of me. Now, bitch.” It had actually taken a lot of effort at first for me to call her nasty names but that only excited her alot. “And keep your mouth shut.”

I think she was a little worried that I was going to spank her with it. We set hand spanking as a limit. I’d sometimes threaten to use the leash as a belt. If she’d been able to think clearly she’d know that I’d never violate our contract.

When we were out on the grass I stopped and gave her leash a gentle tug, her signal to sit up on her knees and look me in the face.

“You’ve started to forget that you are mine to do with as I want. You are my pet. To remind you I’m going to take you on a walk around the edge of the yard. We are going to walk along all four sides of the yard. If you are lucky nobody will she you. If you aren’t …” I just shrugged.

The chances were vanishingly small that either of the people living at the side or rear would come out and se anything. There were trees and bushes long two of the fences blocking off lots of view. But in the small residual chance that they might lay the thrill.

I was heartless. “I could just lock you up here on the back porch for the evening. You are going to do exactly what I tell you and do it now. Make me wait and I’ll make it worse.”

It seemed to take much longer than it could’ve as we went along one fence, another, yet another and eventually were back at the back door.

Sitting in a chair I held her in my lap. She murmured something, I hadn’t any idea what but it was probably thanks. She was still recovering from the huge mental orgasm that only a satisfied sub feels and understands.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, March 25th, 2008 at 12:26 pm and is filed under Rhetorically Yours, Smut by Proxy. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.