tanyathetgurl

As a sub, my requirements include not having a BDSM activity result in medical damage or have a bad effect on my personal or professional life.  So, here's an example that would meet these requirements as well as my requirements for being shown off, appreciated visually, used sexually, and loss of control.

* * *

My phone gets a text message from my Dom.  "I have a 4-hour task for you starting at 10 p.m. Of course you can do it, but if I have you do it will it seriously mess up any work or personal stuff you have going on?"

I love how he phrases things.

"I can do it, Sir" I reply. 

"The box I mailed you, marked number 21, that you haven't opened yet -- open it.  Follow the instructions in there. Drive to 12524 Culver Blvd. Arrive at 10 p.m. A white Jetta will pull out of its parking spot when you arrive. Take its spot, unlock your door, and close your eyes.  Whatever the person instructs you to do, you do.  At 2 a.m. you'll be back in your car.   Then, go home and email me your report, 1800 to 2200 words, by 4 a.m."

"Yes Sir."

I wrap up work, cancel a late-night work joint work session I had with a fellow software developer, and go open the box.  In it are some exceptionally sexy shoes with 6" heels. The back is elastic strap so they're almost guaranteed to fit.  Disturbingly, the soles have "X" marked on them and there's a tube of superglue.  I go wash my feet and dry them. Half an hour, I'll be superglueing the shoes onto my feet right before I leave my apartment. 

The instructions also task me with drinking 16 oz of water, then masturbating from my clit until I cum. That sets the mood.  It then instructions me to put on the enclosed glove and use the enclosed lube and masturbate with the enclosed dildo until I cum.  When I cum, I spasm and whatever's in me tends to exit.  It has the same effect as an enema but it's more erotic for me.  The instructions are precise: 10 strokes, 5 seconds in duration each, in and out, then 20 faster strokes, 2 seconds in duration each and so on.  Finally it speeds up until I'm supposed to pump the dildo in and out once per second, for 100 strokes non-stop.  By the 30th stroke I'm orgasming, again by the 70th stroke and again by the 80th and 90th stroke, thereabouts. The bathtub is a mess now. I clean it.  As told, I insert a long thin dildo and pull it out.  It's clean.  That means I'm clean, inside. That was the agenda behind that task.

The box includes some mean-looking nipple clamps.  They also include the instructions to superglue them on.  That's the first truly scary instruction.  What if I suffer tissue damage due to the clamping before someone takes them off?  And how WOULD they take it off?

The box contains some pretty intense make-up too -- bright red lipstick, heavy eye shadow, eyeliner. There's a picture of the look I'm supposed to have.  I put on make-up accordingly. I look androgynous and I try to not put on too much makeup since I don't wanna look like I just walked out of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.  But, tonight I do look like that. 

Meanwhile, my nipples are aching but in a hot way.

The next item is an inflatable dildo. I press the bulb and after 5 squeezes, the dildo is the size of a whiffle ball.  I deflate it. There's something else inside the base of the dildo and it has a sort of weird structure with holes as if to allow fluid in or out. I lube up my ass, insert the dildo and inflate it to 5 squeezes.I feel really full now.

The box contains a weird sort of tape. I tape my crotch as instructed.  Now the front is smooth.  The box also contains a pre-shaped plastic piece that looks like a female crotch silhouette, camel toe and all.  I tape that in place.  I can see where this is going.  The next item is a thong that perfectly covers the plastic pieces.  A too-short skirt means that my crotch silhouette shows through the thong. I'm supposed to put on tights too.  They're black but pretty thin.  So now I look like a genetically integrated girl showing off her crotch. 

The box contains a sexy top and cheap but pretty metal jewelry for my ears, neck and wrists -- and some strong-smelling perfume.  I'm supposed to take that with me. Okay.

I glue the shoes on and drive to the address. I see the Jetta, parking lights on. It pulls away and I take its spot.  I unlock my door, douse myself with all the perfume I was given, and I close my eyes. I wait.  The anticipation is sexy.

A minute goes by. The car wobbles, like someone has shoving it and then released it.  Odd.  I keep my eyes closed.  Then, the car moves again, more strongly.  Whoever is moving the car like this is one strong dude, I think.  I find the idea sexy. The person is showing off his strength without my seeing him.  That's very hot, somehow.  I'm assuming it's a male.  The car rocks again, side to side, so much that I'm surprised.  It dawned on me that this is more than one person can do.  So, two people, or perhaps more? Interesting way to show me there's more than one person.  And, I feel sort of disempowered sitting in my car, door open, eyes closed, made up sexily and it's being shaken by some very strong hands. I feel small and vulnerable. If that was their plan, it's working.  The rocking gets worse.  Wow.  The car's wheels on each side almost come off the ground, so intense is the rocking now as the car sways side to side. These are some strong people, or there's a lot of them.  Wow.  All these guys vs. me.  If they wanted to overpower me, they probably could.  Not that they'd have to.  If they tell me to let them use me, I would.  The rocking is so strong that I'm starting to wonder if this could damage the car and I'm starting to feel the beginnings of motion sickness.  Was that the plan?  That would be very disempowering though not very sexy. 
 And yet, perhaps it would be.

The rocking stops.  Whoever had done the rocking had impressed me with their combined strength. The door opens.  A male voice says, "hand me your purse and phone and car keys.  Then, get out of the car. " I do, then hear the car be locked and I feel myself being lifted onto someone's shoulder in a fireman's carry.  I feel very disempowered in a hot way.

The change in temperature tells me I'm inside now, being carried down a long straight area (a corridor?) and then a right turn.  A chorus of cheers erupts.  Whoa!  That's a lot of male voices. "Whore is finally here," is the general tone.  "Whore." Not my name, not "the whore."  I think they mean "whore" IS my name. 

"Stand", a male voice commands as he puts me down onto the floor. I do. 

"Endorphin treat for Whore!" someone shouts. 

Wait, pain releases endorphins. That doesn't bode well.

"Strip her."

I feel a tug on my waist and hear scissors.  "Skirt's off!" the men shout.  "ooh, camel toe!" several remark. "I thought she's a pre-op t-girl?" someone asks. "She is, it's fake" someone else says. "Good fake," another says.  So, at least four different voices.  Four men, at least, wow.

The process repeats itself.  My bra and pants are soon in shreds on the floor.  

I hear scissors snip, and I feel my thong being cut off too. The tape on my crotch, and the plastic part, doesn't cover my butt or the crack of it, just the front part of my crotch and the area close to my butt.

"Ooh, superglued clamps ... hot!"... "but not enough."  I feel a flame close to my chest and the clamp start heating up.  Soon I'm squirming from the heat on my nipples.  There's no removing the clamps due to the glue.  Intense.  It's going on an on.  The men comment, not nicely. Ow dammit. "Stop frowning" a man says.  I comply but it's hard. I pant.  Wow, it hurts so much.  Finally I feel the flame going away and I feel a towel held against my tummy, and water being dropped on my tits to cool the clamps.  Wait, it's not water.  It smell like nail polish remover, acetone.  It IS.  Ow, dammit, now it's a chemical burn.  Oweeee.   The clips fall off, the glue dissolved.  Blood pulses back into my tits.  That hurts too.  Oweee dammit!!  Wow.  Intense. As trained, I arch my back as a way to process the pain.  The men like the look.  They comment on what they're seeing.  The comments aren't kind. I feel like I'm their a laboratory experiment.  In its own way, that's hot.

Someone explains that the dildo inside me has two containers. As the bulb is inflated more, the pressure it exerts will not just be on my internal wall but on the two containers too, and they'll eventually pop, releasing their contents inside my bowels.  The men make dark references to hint at what these contents are.  "Can you guess, Whore?"  I can't.  I shake my head. 

"She needs motivation," someone says.  "You get to keep breathing every time you guess, and half of the motivational process ends when you guess each ingredient correctly."  Weird.  I wonder what they mean by motivational process. 

A swat on my ass provides the answer. It stings and it's light.  That's the worst type of flogger. It starts lightly and builds pleasure and sensitivity so it really makes me vulnerable, so by the time thing get heavier, it hurts more and my pleasure-and-pain boundaries are blended.  Whoever chose that flogger knows how to break a sub.  That doesn't bode well.

I feel something nudge against my lips and instinctively I open them and take the dildo all the way into the back of my throat. It's large and long.  It keeps going until it shuts off my air supply.  So that's what they meant.  i try to do the mind-over-matter thing as to my gag reflex.  So far so good. The men notice that too and comment on that.  The swats on my ass start up again.  Problem is they're not allowing me to breathe.  The men are making comments about me turning blue. The comments also reference south of the border, and being hot, and saying "cheers."  Odd.  They're not gonna let me breathe until something happens but I try to hold out.  My back arches more yet.  They comment, impressed.  Yes, I DO have a lot of self-discipline.  "The strongest so far, but you're nearly dead," someone said with a mock Russian accent, like a quote from a movie.  I finally lose control and gag, then retch.  The dildo in my throat is expelled enough for me to breathe.  Good thing my pre-visit instructions included an empty stomach.  "Two guesses, Whore," a voice said.  I try to tell the voices apart.  I think there are at least six men there.

"Um, one item is ... is ... " my mind is racing. "Time's up!" a voice says.  The dildo goes back in again, and the swatting starts up too.  Both are intense.  The next opportunity I blurt out "acid!" while hoping that's not the case.  "Wrong, whore, lucky for you.  One more guess?"  "Beer," I guess.  "No!" a chorus replies.  Wow, so many voices.  Eight? Ten?

Ten minutes later, my face is wet with snot, tears and whatever slimy clear fluid is in my stomach when it's not digesting anything.  My ass feels like it's on fire and yet it feels sexy too.  They're really messing with my head by now.  I've finally guessed that one of the items is hot pepper sauce and the other is wine.  

I feel the pressure in my bowels increase as one person squeezes the bulb more.  It doesn't feel like it's going to tear me apart, but I feel so weirdly full inside.  Then I feel a small jolt and sting like something inside me just popped. Indeed, the little bag of hot pepper sauce has just burst. It's diluted with water but still, it's burning.  Oweee.  It's burning a lot. Dammit.  I arch my back and try not to frown.  I'm panting.  It's hard. "I see you are no stranger to pain," the weird accent said again, with a strange overtone.  The men chortle at this inside joke.  I'm just trying to not lose control.  I'm starting to.  I'm jiggling and jittering to try to keep control.  I'm barely on the edge. I start to stomp my feet to keep in control, a little pain dance that sometimes works.  Eventually that doesn't work either.  I start wailing.  "Quiet!" a man commands.  The mood has changed.  I can't see their faces but the mood has become dark. They're not feeling connected with me. It's them vs. me, the laboratory experiment.  I try to keep quiet but tears are pouring down my cheeks.  I'm sniffling.  The pain level is still going up.  Dammit it hurts!!  I'm losing control again.  I'm starting to quietly wail and hear "no second chances, Whore," and another voice says "when we say something we mean it," and "quiet means you keep quiet," and less friendly admonishments like that. Okay, so they feel disrespected. They really seem angry. It's not like I'm being wilful. I tried really hard to keep quiet but dammit it hurts so much!!  I try my little foot stomping again and try to keep quiet. "Oh, she's trying now," someone says meanly. "Too late now, Whore," someone else says. They all sound so mean.  I feel very vulnerable.
 More tears.  I feel very overwhelmed. "Mouth open," someone says and I comply.

The blast that hits me burns more than anything I've . I forget about my ass and try to process what's just happened.  I can't talk any more though now I'm trying scream as loudly as I can.  I can't breathe.  My eyes and nose are on fire.  I feel a cold rush of air and am being swooped up and carried outside, fast.  I'm thrown down on grassy area.  I writhe and spasm.  The men, some distance away, are coughing.  Later, I learn that I got a blast in the face from pepper spray -- medically not damaging but OMG the pain and it was totally debilitating.  After a long time, I don't know how many minutes, I slowly become myself again. This is no pleasant play session.  I feel myself being lifted again and then feel airborne.  I feel cold water surround me.  I figure out I've been thrown in the swimming pool.  I struggle upwards and gasp in air as best I can.  "Come over here," a voice says, not in a friendly way.  I do.  I feel myself being yanked out of the pool by strong arms, then toweled dry roughly.  They bend me over what feels like pool furniture, and the flogging of my ass begins in earnest.  Soon I'm dancing and squirming. It hurts but at least in a sexy way.

I'm slowly reconnecting with how my insides feel. Whatever was in there has had its effect and it's no longer painful, just unpleasant.

"Ever have a wine enema, Whore?" someone asks.  I shake my head. "Whatever's in your ass, goes directly into your blood stream, faster than if you drank it," someone explains, not too kindly.  "You're about to become a very drunk girl," someone else says.  This is going to get you at somewhere just less than falling-down drunk, Whore." "And, quickly," someone else says.  Oh, wow.  I haven't had alcohol since November.  I just don't drink, hardly ever.  I feel the pressure in my bowels increase more yet, wow.  Another jolt. That must be the alcohol container bursting, releasing wine into my bowels.  I feel the dildo being deflated. I have mixed feelings. In a way, being so full felt so sexy.  I feel the alcohol take effect.  Wow, this is happening quickly.

"What's your name, Whore?" "Whore," I reply. This question is repeated every now and then, and soon I'm actually able to slur as simple a word as "whore." "She's ready," someone says.  "Call the auctioneer," someone says. I hear a call placed on speakerphone, and a friendly voice answers.  Soon, an auction is being done via speakerphone.  The auctioneer is goading the men to bid on riding me, sexually.  He's good.  I'm hearing amounts in the hundreds of dollars but it's sort of a blur to me.  I hear, "Sold to bidder number 8 for nine hundred dollars!"   Wow, I really am a whore tonight, literally.  I'm being whore out, to be precise.  To strangers who will ride me. Wow.

Later, I learned that the men places bids via text messages, clever.  Someone re-caps.  "So, we have bidder number 8 for nine hundred, then number 12 for eight hundred fifty"... twelve?  Wow.  That's a lot of men. "Then, number 2 for six hundred fifty, then number 4 for five hundred" and so on.  The list stops after eight men.  I later learned that twelve me were present and only the eight top bidders get to ride me.  Whoever is getting the money for whoring me out is getting, on average, about $500 per rider so that's ... wow, $4000 for tonight.  I think.  It's all sort of a blur. 

"Enema time," someone says and sticks something lubed and smooth up my ass, and I feel warm liquid flowing into me.  Soon they pull the item out a little, but unlike the normal process by which the person's body is trusted to evacuate, this mechanism leaves a tube intact right at the opening, and so gravity does the job,  and the water and whatever's left of the wine and pepper sauce leave via the tube.  Fresh water is added again, to repeat the process.  The last fluid injection feels different, somehow. "Whore is all lubed up," someone says.  Wow, so they pumped lube into me.  I guess that's good. I'm not thinking clearly now.  Whooo, am i buzzed.  I haven't felt this drunk in years, maybe ever.  Wow.

"Come here, whore," a voice says and I stumble in the direction of the voice.  Someone pushes me down so I'm kneeling on a soft cushion.  Someone else pushes my head down.  My thighs are vertical, ass up.  My face is hidden by my blonde hair. Through my closed eyelids, I can see flashes.  Someone is taking pictures of me, in that position.  Many flashes, many pictures.  Wow, this is sort of hot.  I feel so lazy.  Mhm.  I feel kinda horny too. I wonder if I'm going to get ... "I feel a gloved finger open me up, slowly, spreading lube around my opening. "Believe me, this isn't something that would normally happen.  This action is being done  because your master insisted we lube you and open you up before we ride you.  we'd much rather hurt you and hear you scream, perhaps give you another shot in the face," a voice said. Wow, I don't feel the love.  But, I think gratefully of my Master, who had known that once I'm lubed and open, I can take a lot of rough sex.  Eventually, the finger is withdrawn, and a voice says "let the games begin!" and I feel hands on either side of my hips, and something nudging against my anal opening.  Then I'm being opened up with a rough thrust, and the ride begins.  In and out he thrusts, cruelly, trying to hurt me.  He's failing.  I'm enjoying it.  I'm not really focusing much on him, just the sensation.  Oooh, it feels SO good.  I moan with pleasure and give a little shiver.  The man seems incensed.  The other men are making angry comments, goading him on to hurt me, to have me hate it not like it.  He's thrusting like a madman but I've been trained well.  I am enjoying the intensity.  Soon he's overcome by it all, and he orgasms loudly and in the last few seconds, ruts me violently. I decide it prudent to keep quiet, and I manage to do so, barely. I'm almost on the verge of an anal orgasm.  The man dismounts, swearing obscenities at me, and walks off to the bathroom.  Soon I hear a toilet flush.  The other men are milling around, restless.  Someone is expressing impatience.  "He's gotta tag you first, buddy," someone else reminds him.  The first men comes out of the bathroom, muttering, and I hear the slap of a high-five.  That's the second man's cue.  Soon, he's riding me.  And so the process repeats itself, until all eight winning bidders have had their turn.  I've lost count. I just finally realize that the rutting has stopped. I am soooooooooo close to an anal orgasm, wow.  I am still in position when I feel something colder being shoved into me, a double-headed dildo. It is long, and whoever was pushing it works it all the way inside me.  "Keep it in until you get home, Whore," a voice says.  "Back arched," someone else says. I feel the clamps go back on. 

"Time to go, Whore."  Someone picks me up and carries me away. Nobody says good-bye.  I feel something tinkle on the concrete, something else thud.  "Stand there until your phone rings, then open your eyes and go," a voice says.  I hear footsteps receding.  I stand there, naked except for my taped crotch and high heeled shoes.  I'm feeling very sober again, and cold.  My hair is still damp. Probably a minute goes by.  I'm feeling impatient.  Probably another two minutes go by.   I wonder if there's been a mistake. I try to remember the parking area.  I wonder if I'm next to my car.  The voice hadn't forbidden me to find out.   I feel around me and don't feel anything.  Dammit.  I feel around on the floor for anything to recognize.  Nothing.  Dammit.  I decide to count to keep track of time.  How long have I been here?  I was supposed to be back by 2 a.m.  It sure feels later.  I count to sixty, slowly.  I do it three more times.  Wow, this is not fun.  I decide to use the time to recap what had happened.  Part-way through, the phone rings.  I open my eyes.  The phone and my purse are just out of reach, and my car is five feet away.  I pick up my phone and answer.  My Master asks how many men rode me.  "Eight or so, I think," I reply. "Count the money," he says. Money? What money? In the purse?  I open it.  It's full of money. I look around me but it's a secluded, private-home parking area. I count it in the moonlight.  Wow.  $4250.  I say the amount. "Good whore," the voice says. Evidently. Wow, that's a lot of money.  I'm struggling to process all this. "In the car, there's a t-shirt in a bag. Open it.  Put it on. Also, put on the Daisy Dukes. " The T-shirt has a picture of an "8" ball on it. Someone has a sense of humor. Wow, these shorts are short.  My ass cheeks are showing.

"Blow the breathalizer in the glove compartment."  Oh!  Good idea.  I do so. "0.06" I announce.  "Feel good enough to drive?" "Yes Sir."  "I can have you home by 2 a.m. or give you anther task that will keep you out later."  "Later is fine, Sir."  "Good.  Now, drive to this address, do what they tell you." "Yes Sir." "What do you have scheduled for tomorrow?" "nothing until 4 p.m. Sir  but I should do an hour's worth of things before then.  And, eat.  And dress.  And, sleep, ideally, please Sir. And may I please take the clamps off?"  "Yes.  As to the timeline, understood. Now go."

It's 1:45 a.m..  Wow, a lot happened in these three hours.  I remove the clamps and arch my back as the blood flow makes my tits briefly hurt more yet. I regain control, and I drive. I arrive at the address.  I go knock on the door.  A girl answers and looks me up and down coolly.  "The whore is here, Sir," she announces.  "Bring her to the study," a voice replies.  The girl, who is dressed formally but sexily, puts a collar and leash around my neck and turns around. She pulls me wordlessly along. I follow on my high heels.  The study is rich with books, dark wood, leather, a green banker's lamp.  The girl positions me in front of the desk, and then comes and stands next to me. The man behind the desk looks to me, and to the girl.  With my smeared make-up, damp hair and cheap clothes, I feel like a cheap whore anyway.  Compared to the polished elegance next to me, the contrast is stark.  "No class," the man says, shaking his head.  He nods to the girl.  She puts on a black latex glove and lubes it, then bends me over.  Her fingers disappear inside me, not kindly.  She pushed.  I gasp.  She works her fingers in and out, opening me up more every time.  It feels intense, first unpleasantly and then it all changes to a warm, intense pleasure.  I feel an orgasm coming on.  I almost cry out as her hand vanished inside me completely.  I feel a tug deep inside.  I realize she's grasped the tip of the dildo and is pulling on it.  It's so intense.  Slowly she withdraws her hand.  My face is distorted by the intensity of sensation.  Eventually her hand and the dildo are both out of my body. She leaves and I hear water running.  She's rinsing and washing it, most likely.  "So, you're a delivery girl," the man said. I don't understand but then the girl brings him the dildo. He takes out a large knife and looks me in the eye, then cuts the tip of the dildo off.  Inside is a tube.  He removes it and shakes it so the contents fall out.  I can't see what they are but I don't see any powder so it's not drugs as far as I can tell.  I don't know what I brought him.  "So, for the delivery, I pay $1200," he says and hands me the money in cash.  I reach for it but he holds up a hand. "First, fix your clothing.  You offend me as you are dressed now.  He holds the knife out to the girl. She smirks and comes to me.  "Do not move," the man says and now I recognize he has a slight accent.  The girl cuts the t-shirt and short off me.  She leaves and brings a bra and dress. She gestures and I raise my arms and she puts them on me. The bra fits, the dress is elegant and it matches my shoes. "Better," the man says.  The girl reaches for my face and grasps my chin and washes my make-up off with a moist, soft cloth.  She rapidly puts on eyebrow pencil, eyeliner and lipstick, then mascara and eye shadow.  "Much better," the man says.  The girl vanishes and comes back with a blow drier and dries my hair, right there in the study.  "Much, much better," he says. "Now I can understand why eight men paid so much money to fuck you."  The girl glowers when she heard this.  "Jewelry for the whore," he said to her, "number 9."  She scowls and leaves and comes back, and puts a necklace and bracelet and earrings on me. They're clamp earrings.  She's not gentle.  Ouch. 

"Very nice," the man says.  His tone has changed.  "Time to see your crotch."  The girl ducks her head under my dress and starts yanking the tape off. Oweee!!  My face registers shock and pain.  The man smiles. "She is not your friend," he says. I nod.  The girl stands beside me again, eyes straight, almost at attention. "Now we make her hate you even more," he says. "I like having my females hate each other. It prevents collusion."  He approaches me while looking me up and down appraisingly.  "Pull your dress aside," he says. I do. He comments on the large size of my clit. He stands behind me.  "Guide me into her," he says to the girl.  Hating every second of it, she undoes his pants, gets a condom onto his large and erect member, lubes him up, pushes my neck down with a small extra hateful shove at the end of the descent, and pulls my dress to one side.  Her other hand is guiding the tip of his cock towards my anal opening.  He nudges it then slowly drives inside.  Slowly, he thrusts in and out, commenting on how I feel.  He rides me for a long time.  He doesn't orgasm.  Eventually, he withdraws.  "Now we make her hate you forever," he says.  Still bent down, I glance up at the girl's face.  She seems to barely be able to contain a quiet fury.  "Now you guide me inside HER," the man says.  I stand upright and then understand as the girl kneels, her eyes looking coldly straight ahead.  I guide his condom-covered cock towards her lips, and he pushes deep inside her.  Essentially, whatever anal juices I had are now inside her mouth.  He slowly pulls out of her, and then with her hands, she works the condom off him. Slowly, resentfully, she reaches down and inserted into her own body. "She hates you so much now," the man says. "Guide me again," he tells me, and this time his condomless cock enters the girl's mouth.  Her skill is exemplary and soon he is orgasming.  I watch her throat make swallowing movements.  Wow, intense.  And, I wonder precisely where she put the condom.  The man withdraws.  "Do I thank you?" he asks the girl, who stares ahead without answering.  He slaps her face, gently at first but then more and more intensely, again and again. Her eyes glare ahead but she doesn't move. Odd dynamic, theirs, I think, then feel hypocritical to judge them as such.

"You are a good ride. I want you every night this week, with the girl watching," he says.  He calls a number.  My Master tells him an amount.  The man smiles and nods. He hangs up, reaches into a drawer and counts out another $2000 and hands it to me. I put it in my purse.

He gets up, and does up his clothing.  "So, you are a girl who likes auctions," he says.  Go sit at the computer. " In the corner is a PC with a webcam.  He makes a phone call and speaks in a language I don't know.  The PC comes online with a Skype call. He tells me to answer and I do.  The person on the other end asks me some questions in a deep voice with a strong accent.  He asks me to get up and walk away and show off my crotch and ass. In turn, I do, by pulling the dress aside.  He hangs up without thanking me and the phone on the desk rings.  He mentions an amount.  The man at the desk seems impressed.  His eyebrows had gone up when he heard the amount.  The conversation ends.  "It seems you were just sold without an auction. Now put all the money on the desk, including the money I gave you."  I do. "Count it," he tells the girl.  She does.  It's exactly right, $7,650.  "You have just bought some high-quality DDD size breast implants. Tomorrow, call this number and make an appointment.  Two months from now, you will have large, high-quality and exceptionally well-inserted breast implants."  After that, as I ride you, your large breasts will sway violently. The girl, who has smaller breasts, will watch you and be jealous. I like that."

He calls my Master again and mentions forty thousand dollars and a time-span of thirty days.  They seem to be in agreement.  I think I've just been rented out for a month.

"Tomorrow, call this number.  It's the best facial feminization surgeon in San Francisco. Three months from now, you will have a remade, feminized and beautified face. More reason for the girl to be jealous. "  He smirks unkindly.

"For fifteen days, you will be sexually available to my friend and his friends, on a yacht in international waters.  They'll use condoms and make sure you get enough food, water and sleep but as to everything else, expect to be ridden much.  They'll respect your Master's rule that you first be lubed and opened slowly Then, you get feminized and as soon as you're healed, you get sent back for another fifteen days so they can appreciate the contrast."

I nod gratefully.  My future has become reshaped dramatically in just that one night. I'm told to leave, and I do.  I don't say anything to the girl, who starts to walks me out.  I suspect she'll yank on the leash enough to choke me and yank me off balance.  "Collar swap," the man commands. The girl stops and seems even more angry.  She takes the collar off me and puts it on herself and hands me the leash. I walk her to the front door and let myself out.

I finally arrive home at 4:30 a.m.  It's been an intense night.

Regardless of what I'm currently focused on in my profile, I'm an intense Dominatrix but a vastly more intense sub. With one possible exception, who perhaps would rather not be named here, but is also a professional Dominatrix, I'm the most sexually intense person I know.

I have been inspired by a few gentlemen on this site to ponder my requirements as to being a submissive. Some of what's below, was inspired by an email I sent tonight.

Part of what I do is to essentially pretended I am my own Dominatrix and I plan out some activities and then enact them.  Part of what makes a good Dominatrix is to try things on oneself first before doing them to a sub. So, this was part of the reasoning, but part of it was also that I found it very arousing.

If you're still reading, it's good that you know the intensity of the person with whom you might be dealing.

Basically, the role I fantasize about a Dom or Domme fulfilling is where (s)he tasks me with some sexually themed things that pleases him/her and are creative and intense.  I consider part of highly erotic BDSM to enact events that seem a lot more intense than they actually are.  I'd hope that the agenda would be consistent with that,  yet these events would be (by his/her conscious and well-planned design) highly unlikely to cause me medical damage, public exposure, arrest, danger or problems in my personal or professional field. That's no easy requirement, I know.

One of the problems I have with any authority is that if I can see major holes in someone else's plan, I'm not that enthused about following that plan -- and if that's the quality of plan this person tends to put out, at some point I'm no longer all that enthused about the planner either. It's sort of like having a combat-seasoned general take commands from a colonel. The colonel needs to really be on top of things for that dynamic to work.  That's probably why I've had a Dom in my life only a couple of times, and as such only briefly until I found it, on merit, hard to respect what they were doing, including with me.  If a Dom or Domme is thoughtful, successful and precise ... that bodes well. But, to come up with scenarios that resonate with me, the person would really need to know me well, which means: get to know me well.

I understand that the superficial stereotype is that the sub sits cowed and takes whatever the Dom or Domme dishes out, but that's true only in a highly delimited context.  In a wider context, if the activities are by the sub's standards too boring or too dangerous (or both) then at some points, she's going to go looking for someone better.

I don't want to top from the bottom.  I've tried it and of course that has to fail.  But, I do have high standards.  On that premise, someone would have to come up with some intense and well-orchestrated scenarios, and until the person understands what makes me tick, it's a shot in the dark. 

That's a two-way street too.  If you end up interacting with me in my capacity as a Dominatrix, perhaps it's good for you to know that I'm in the software business, and my field of specialization is to develop people's requirements -- work with them to understand and think through what they require (and what they initially say is hardly ever "it" -- that's just a starting point).

The concept of two folks hitting it off on this site without first interacting somehow, on this site or otherwise ... seems unlikely to me.

Anyway, with my yet-more-elevated level of cynicism, I plan to write up some fantasy scenarios and post them on here so that potential Doms or Dommes can at least have some idea of what makes me tick.  At the very least, I'd hope that you as the reader would learn something or find what I wrote to be arousing, perhaps even inspiring.

The short version of this post is:

If you're a single male or t-girl submissive or switch with a functioning cock, and you'd like to join my task force, and you qualify, then I send you on sexy assignments, typically to fuck whomever I designate. You no longer waste your time trying to woo folks. I do that. You simply go where you're instructed, service the person, and leave. Obviously, if the quality of the people to whom I point you is low, you'll quit, so I plan to keep you happy enough. It costs no money to join, but the process is highly selective.

The long version of this post is: 

I've been looking for Dominant men who are a good match for my requirements. The process has its frustrations. I'm taking a break from it for a while.

I'm still interested, just not actively looking. If you're a high-quality Dominant male, and what I wrote in my journal resonates with you, please do contact me. If your intro is eloquent, you make a good impression, are semi-local and are interested in real-life interaction, odds are ... I'll respond. Otherwise, if it shows I've read your email and you don't get a response, please presume that's my "no thank you" and let it go.

But, for now ...

Here is the best news that single good guys might have come across in a long time: 

I'm focusing my energies away from Dominant males (for now). I'm looking for a few virile, submissive males or t-girls who will, essentially, become a small task force whom I send somewhere to energetically fuck whomever I designate. The designated person might be female, transgender, or male -- whatever fits the wiring of the submissive male. In other words, in order to apply, you don't have to be bisexual. If you're purely straight, I'll send you out to service only the opposite gender.

The cream of the crop might be tasked with servicing me sexually too, so however your mental wiring and how you classify me into that, if you're not highly enthused about the privilege of personally servicing me, then please don't apply. Fair warning: although I have a nice cock, I'm basically female due to my mind being female.

Please apply if you have:

- No adult history of violence

- No STDs

- No passive-aggressive tendencies

- No anger issues

- No serious medical issues

- Are unattached relationship-wise

- Are mentally healthy

- Haven't done drugs other than pot in the last three years

- Drink three drinks or less per day

- Can (with or without blue pills) sport a nice erection and use it vigorously

- See some merit to the concept of honesty

- Are in the US or Canada

- Have at least minimal social graces

- Can keep quiet about belonging to this particular club.

Size matters but it's only one factor of many. Same with body shape. Same with schedule flexibility and being willing to travel. 

* * *

Example: Single nerdy straight guy in Sacramento has passed my screening and has been accepted. He gets an alert to be ready for service two nights hence, at 10 p.m. for 2 hours. He acknowledges, and indicates he can make it. At 9:30 p.m. on the relevant night, he gets a text message, telling him to which hotel to go. At 9:55 he is instructed to which room to go.  He enters and on the bed is a hot girl, face down, ass up.  I'm also there, smiling. I hand a condom to the guy and indicate which holes to use, and for how long, and in what sequence. By midnight, he's orgasmed twice, the girl has been well-ridden, and he goes home, marveling at how most guys struggle to get action, whereas he gets to have experiences like tonight. He's almost like being a professional assassin who is called into action.

To the extent that I end up being flooded by worthy applicants, I will need a way to limit the number of accepted folks to something that I can reasonably manage. I have a few ideas as to what would be great, and what I would like, but I'm open to suggestions too.

- No money will be exchanged for sexual services in any direction. 

- Action is likely but not guaranteed.

- If you also like taking cock inside you, then perhaps I might designate another team member to do you, but there's no guarantee of that.

- Condoms will be used for vaginal and anal sex, and (if you so choose) for oral sex too. 

- A process such as this inherently entails risk in many ways, including of STDs. I plan to manage the risks but so should you. Even so, mistakes and accidents will happen. I don't plan to take the entire hit or to do penance if something goes wrong, so be willing to accept whatever damage ends up affecting you. Don't deflect it to me or anyone else.

- The screening process is likely to be multi-tiered and fairly thorough. If you're too impatient for that, don't apply.

Although I have been looking for Dominant males, I am indeed a part-time professional Dominatrix, so if you're enthused about learning more about BDSM this might be a good opportunity.

* * *

I last edited the above on September 10th. It is now three days later, and I am utterly overwhelmed by the volume of high-quality respondents.  I'm delighted at the level of enthusiasm.  I am methodically working through the list of people, and I plan to get back to everyone who expressed interest, but meanwhile I'm also trying to keep alive two romantic relationships and several businesses ... so my time is limited. If I don't respond quickly, don't despair.

The last three days have made it clear that the proper model is that of a task force, as if it had a military flavor.  The people involved take it seriously, and approach it with a sense of fairness, dedication and honor.  They also, as in a military task force, might have the sort of personality whose main strength isn't "plays well with others" but they are nevertheless willing to make an effort to make it all work. This makes it feasible to have interactive dynamics in which multiple people are involved. This means more, um, action for whoever is involved as such, compared to a string of purely solo encounters.

So far, it looks like we'll have a task force in each of:

- Reno, NV

- Las Vegas, NV

- The SF Bay area. 

Fresh on the West coast, newly arrived from the Memphis area is Sunny, one of my two romantic partners, and she's both lovely and enthused about being involved too. She excels at doing what I instruct her, and if that includes taking her clothes off, or providing pleasure, then that's what happens.  Her involvement is not full-time yet even so it makes this entire plan a far more higher-value proposition yet, at a time when I already can't keep up with demand. Here is a picture that I took of her:

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XUPaBMj3NKc/UNU06_XOYgI/AAAAAAAAHe8/lvMoMvge2iw/s800/IMAG3269.jpg

On the "being overwhelmed" premise: starting at 5 p.m. (Pacific Time) on September 13th, 2013, I declare the applicants up to this point to be "tier one" and everyone after that is "tier two."  There might eventually be more tiers.

I mean this nicely, and I continue to encourage applicants, but -- to apply as "tier two" please come up with some or other compelling reason why I should make a point of including you, too. And, remember, cash isn't king and money doesn't talk.  Much as I like the idea, I can't viably turn this into an auction. That said, as long as I don't see the money, then if you offer to fund something, that might be interesting but please be quite clear on what you have in mind. If it's something that benefits Sunny or I, that's ideal but if it benefits the task force in general, then that could be good too. And, please start small. I don't want to begin that is so generous that that it makes things awkward. 

Examples of "tier 2" contributions that might qualify include:

- "I manage the free-samples division of a condom company and I can donate thousands of condoms per month."

- "I manage a club or bar whose location we can use after hours"

- "I own a rural, private property whose location we can use"

- "I own a van that can transport folks to and from an event"

- "I'll make a 5% donation towards getting Sunny permanently sterilized so that nobody needs to worry about her getting pregnant."

- "I'll make a 5% donation towards Tanya getting implants so that she looks better yet"

- "I'll make a 20% donation towards Tanya getting lash-grow formula for 4 months so that she looks better yet"

You're a guy. DO think with your dick.  Be creative, like when you wanna get a girl into bed since this might just be what it all boils down to anyway.

~Tanya

[Submissive girl, Dominant male]

She is in your house by agreement. She makes sex available to you because she chooses to. Until she announces otherwise, she’s available to be used without you having to ask.

She’s not allowed to sit on the furniture, or wear underwear. 

You walk past her, and see her sitting on the floor. Her long, smooth, soft legs are in a sexy pose. Her feet are in 6” stilettos. Her elegant black dress is hiked up. Her make-up is intense and sexy. Her long, blonde hair looks lovely. She smiles at you as you walk past.

You stop, and frown. You love how she is just there for the taking, literally.

You unbuckle your pants and drop them down, then hike down your boxers. You don’t even remove them, just slide them down. Your cock is already enthused. 

She hands you a condom. Good girl to always have some ready. You slide it on, then kneel down. You push those long legs apart, and up, bending her double.  While you were putting on the condom, she squirted some lube on her finger and smeared it around her opening. Good girl. She’s ready for you.

Her eyes respectfully look into yours as your hand positions your cock at her opening, and you thrust slowly into her, your eyes boring into hers and enjoying seeing her flinch and blink, seeing her mouth gasp slightly. You push into her so deeply that you can’t possibly go any deeper even though you wiggle your hips.  You like that she’s still wearing her dress and heels. You start the out-stroke slowly, knowing that this maximizes her sensitivity. You want her sensitive for the long, hard, ride. You’re cruel like that. She knows it. A dozen strokes later, you know she’s highly sensitived and vulnerable. You pick up the pace, no longer looking at her face. Harder and harder you hump her. She is no longer a person to you, just a doll to be used. You’ve already orgasmed inside her twice today, so the third time will take longer.

Indeed, it does. Many minutes go by, and she endures being ravished by your hard cock, her body in an uncomfortable position but looking magnificently sexy. You congratulate yourself on having her in your house. She’s here for a few more days, and you’re making the most of it. 

Eventually, you sense your orgasm approaching. You ream her so hard that her body is shaking as if it's being pummeled. Then, the long climax.  You stiffen your body and make one last, hard, cruel shove into her.  You stay like that for a while.  Your thoughts drift to other things, not the girl you just rode so hard. You dismount, yank the condom off and throw it on the carpet.  You know she'll dispose of it, and use her mouth to clean up any spillage.  You walk away.  As you stand in front of the toilet, relieving yourself and watching the long stream of urine arch, you remember that you also can instruct her to sit in the shower, her mouth open, and accept that from you too.  You can't be bothered. She's not even that important to you, right now, anyway.

You muse how different the sex with her is from the traditional model. You shake your head, delighted that your life is the way it is.

There seems to be enthusiasm for my ability to wear stilettos, and wear them well. I can walk a mile in 6" stilettos.  I did this to prove to myself that I can. :-)

https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-toq3HGpScrs/UXJN9bwopyI/AAAAAAAALiM/EMLpYZF7mf0/s800/IMAG4786.jpg

https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_ILQtZlFHJ0/UXJN_JJF9HI/AAAAAAAALiU/qnd7ZeWQS6U/s800/IMAG4787.jpg

~Tanya

Imagine a young girl growing up with a cock and no vagina. Imagine everyone telling her she's a boy, and she believes them but feels, deep inside, that something about that is wrong.  

Imagine the girl goes through puberty, and the male hormones that make young boys happy about the changes that their body goes through, make her aghast. Her face and body change to look less and less like the girl she is, inside.

Fortunately, the effect was limited. By looking younger than her chronological age, she was able to look more feminized. She recalls being in her late 20s and someone telling her that she looked as if she were 15.

For some knowledge, the best source is introspection. I know that I'm a girl mentally due to having decades' worth of factual data (about how I felt and reacted and thought and acted) for which "my brain is female" is the most logical explanation. But, self-conscious about the subject, I wanted something more solid yet. I didn't find it, but I found a substitute that, at the time, made me feel better. I paid a nice chunk of money and got the Stanford BEM test, and found out that my mind isn't just fundamentally female but I'm more female in my thinking than 85% of genetically integrated girls.  In other words, if you put me in a line-up with 19 other girls who represent a broad spectrum of feminized thinking, then only three of them will be more feminized in their thinking than I.  So, yes, I'm a girl -- fundamentally so.

However, male hormones during puberty did what they tend to do. My face might be pretty, but it is more androgynous than female. I don't like that. When I take 20 pictures, I discard the 17 that make me look as I do, and I cherish the 3 that make me look most feminine.  But, in all honesty, I do look more like a blend of genders than flat-out feminized, and you should be aware of it or when you meet me at the airport, you'll feel misled, and we don't want that.

Here is a good example of how I really look:

https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-1d-PLec2Bbk/UXJNcVkyfKI/AAAAAAAALg0/jQmZNqFRSxk/s800/IMAG4767.jpg

As to the curves on my chest, they're courtesy of the bra I'm wearing. I plan to change that but for now, when the bra comes off, you'll be looking at an pretty but androgynous-looking body, too.

Much as I look forward to funding additional feminization, I am who I am, and for now I'm best described as someone who looks sexy, and sexual, and androgynous even though her mind is fundamentally female and highly feminine even for that context.

~Tanya

How far would I go? An analogy occurred to me.

I own a Mitsubishi Starion, which is a very fast turbocharged car. As it came from the factory, it came with 10 psi of turbo boost pressure. However, the turbo can make much more pressure; the factory setting just limits it. This is typically done using a mechanism named "wastegate" that gets rid of any unwanted pressure. On this car, it's easy to change the boost pressure to, say, 14 psi. More pressure, more air, more power. And, at that pressure, the car is blazingly quick. It is also under A LOT more strain. And, if more is better, why not 15 or 16 or, hey, 18 psi? Because at some point, you're overstressing the physics of the thing and you're going to blow the head gasket. It can take only so much.

My daddy was an electrical and mechanical engineer, and his daughter is a software and automotive engineer. But, my basic mindset is that of an engineer. As a transgender girl, I mostly grew up enjoying my own company, and I enjoyed it A LOT.  I came and came and came. I was very lithe. I could bend double, and suck my own cock. It felt good and I did a lot of it. I could even get both of my testicles in my mouth too, which didn't feel particularly good or bad, but I liked the challenge, and meeting it.  I then discovered anal pleasure, and however good my cock had felt, my anal passage was way more pleasurable yet. Whatever could safely go up my ass, did.  And, being inexperienced and gung-ho, my decisions weren't always great. I lived the principle of "only those who risk going too far can find out how far one can possibly go."  I ended up with, for example, a candle (that I'd made) stuck inside me, and calling my mom at work, asking for advice.  As time passed, I became more skilled. By now, I can orgasm again and again from anal stimulation, and I can control my rectal valves well enough to coax them open. I can easily take a 12" double-headed soft jelly dildo all the way inside, and I love the sensation.  I can with much difficulty take a very flexible 18" double-headed soft jelly dildo all the way inside, and I don't like the sensation but I love the challenge.

As long as it is lubricated well enough with motor oil, a car engine can go hundreds of thousands of miles. Similarly, as long as there is good enough lubrication, and the angle is such that the cock doesn't bruise my insides, I can handle some intense riding. So, as to how much cock I can take up my ass: I haven't taken on a multitude of men, but based on my sex-toy track record, I'd say: a lot. I've analyzed what speed I can handle too; the fastest I'm comfortable with is four Hertz, which means: four in-and-out strokes per second. If someone can fuck faster than that, I'm impressed. I recall seeing a video about the old Mustang Ranch in which one high-in-demand girl would take on more than 40 guys per night. Granted, I don't have a vagina, but I do have a quite resilient ass.

In case you're wondering if all my experimenting has created long-terms effects: yes, it has. I have better muscular control "there" than most people do. As a result, I tend to get unsolicited compliments from those who have ridden me.

As to my throat, I don't like the sensation of oral sex, but I love the submissiveness it implies, so I often suck on a dildo as I orgasm.  I also have trained my throat. I can take 9" of a 12" double-headed jello dildo into my mouth and down my throat. And, after an intense session of that, my throat is indeed sore, though not (as far as I can tell) damaged.

As to legality, I've done in-hotel-room strip shows and escorting. I read the laws and I make sure I operate within them, albeit barely, sort of like driving one mile per hour inside the speed limit. Do I fantasize about being a whore? Intensely. If someone wants to make money off my sexual talents, that's fine but I'm not willing to personally sell sex for money. Whoever lines up paying customers runs the risk that I might withdraw my consent before or during a session. I'm not willing to commit to fuck anyone for money, much as I love the fantasy.

As to public nudity, I love the idea but in practical reality I don't want to traumatize children or folks who are basically good people but more conservative. If someone takes me to the Power Exchange or the Citadel, then I'm willing to be paraded around wearing nothing, or anything (or, at least, anything that's ideologically OK with me.  Telling me to wear a t-shirt with "Death to America" won't fly).

Am I willing to come close to these limits? Yes. Am I willing to exceed them and run a sizable risk of ending up in the E/R, or with permanent damage, or a criminal record, or being rude? No.

That still leaves a wide window of possibilities. Feel free to explore them with me.

~Tanya

Every now and then, someone asks a question that is phrased "just so" to inspire me think. This particular gentleman asked, in essence, how far I'd be willing to go to obtain what I want.

Without divulging any confidential information about him, I'm copying my reply below in case reading it is of value to anyone else.

~Tanya

* * *

Good morning, and thank you for replying.

I like your question and what it implies. To answer your question: mentally and sexually, far.

I used to study auditing and a simple answer requires back-up work, so here it is. I approach this question at two levels:

1. Intellectually:

I plan to look more facially feminized including moving my hairline lower, using my own money unless someone else ends up being inspired to contribute. That's probably a $60K exercise if I get it done by the best surgeon I know, who is also the gentleman who did my Adam's Apple removal. After that, I plan to put on some weight and have some fat transferred from my tummy to my hips and ass. That's another $10K. After that, I plan to reward myself with a lovely set of breasts. That's another $7K. Realistically, I don't anticipate any of this happening this year, but my work and financial situation suggest that next year I might well be able to do all of that. I sell strip shows part-time and I will be able to sell more if I front-load the breasts work, so I might do so. I manage multiple businesses on which I work probably 60+ hours a week. Still, my time is flexible, and some of it, I can do long-distance. I have two romantic partners in my life and I plan to keep them. One lives with me and the other visits often. If I go somewhere else for short periods of time, they will of course be aware of where I'm generally going and why, and they'd be fine with it, but if I'm absent continually or for weeks at a time, they'll feel (and be) neglected and I don't want that. I also talk with each of them every day, in person or via phone and I plan to keep doing that. I'm highly sexualized. The intensity of anal activity I can endure and enjoy is intense. Anally, I can cum and cum and cum. My mindset can flip to deeply submissive and in the right context I find that deeply erotic. My main limit is safety-related though I would have some privacy-related concerns too, and I wouldn't want to do anything that violates someone's rights. That includes me wanting to avoid lewd things in public that children can or could see it and be traumatized. I have met very few people that inspire submissiveness in me but when it happens, it's intense. I'd planned to piece together revenue from various sources and manage their flow to the surgeons who will be modifying me, but if I get the same result by handing over control to someone to whom I'm sexually submissive, that would be highly erotic to me. I have sold strip shows and done a bit of escorting too; I haven't flat-out sold sex for money but the fantasy is highly erotic to me. I've heard how high-class escorts who take their work seriously and make a go of it, can earn a lot of money (per hour and in total) but as I have dug deeper, I have found that the hassles and risks involved are often significant. I have also heard and observed how many men are enthused about girls like me, but a large subset of these men are enthused about the girl's cock pleasuring the man anally. I have no problem with others doing that but I'm not wired to be attracted to men in that way. One of my two romantic partners is likely to be enthused and able to be involved in whatever sexualization I experience. The interaction is very intense. She loves providing me with pleasure and is very good at it. This includes using her hand to bring me to anal orgasm with fisting, and being present while I'm being used sexually or in a BDSM context.

2. Emotionally:

I would feel a rush of excitement and arousal if someone were willing to take a Dominant role and be worthy of it, with the agenda including the gentleman funding some of my prettification and feminization. I don't presume it's viable to find someone to whom I'll be worth $77K which is the total of what all the surgeries cost. But, as an escort I've generated $1K in one night; the client had a very erotic time even though he didn't end up having sex with me (it's never included as part of the deal) and I suspect I can find more folks like that. Facial beauty and feminized looks are essential to being desirable in this context and I think I have enough of that to where perhaps breast implants can be viable, and these in turn drive demand up. I suspect that as procedures go, a Dominant might find it more sexy-per-dollar to fund a set of breasts for me as opposed to, say, jaw surgery. So, starting with that, and assuming I'm worth $1K per night and that me available during the day too is better yet, I'll assume I'm worth $7K per week for one amazing week, for one person who has always wanted to be with a girl like me. I can see two modes: the person integrates me in his normal weekly activity, or takes me somewhere on vacation. The gentleman and I would exchange STD test results that show we're in good sexual health and that means a "green light" for condomless oral sex but condoms will still be used for anal sex. I presume I would be instructed to perform various actions on cam so that the person can see that I'm for real, and sufficiently desirable and submissive. Then, I would be instructed what to pack and be sent a plane ticket. I'd go to the airport when instructed and get on the plane. I presume the Dominant would meet me at my destination. As soon as I am in the Dominant's company, I presume I will be instructed to provide pleasure, visual or with my mouth or ass or hands. I presume that the Dominant will use me sexually many times, and dress me up and take me out in public or to semi-public places. I presume my dress code will be highly sexually themed. The amount of use I'd experience would probably be intense, and it might include the Dominant's friend too. As long as the cocks that enter me are, under the watchful eye of the the Dominant, condom-covered and the condoms stay on all the time, the Dominant can make me available as such. Day and night, I'd be available for use. I would be allowed to sleep, but I might get woken up with a cock pushing into my mouth or ass. For a few hours per day, I would be allowed access to the Internet and phone so that I can attend to my businesses and subs. The Dominant can tell me what to wear, clothing-wise or inside me, even during that time, and he can say "wrap up for now, I want to use you" and then he gets to do so. At the end of every day, the Dominant sends another $1K to the surgeon's Paypal account. By the end of the week, I presume to leave in the same medical condition in which I arrived, with my business and personal relationships still intact, with the surgeon now having a $7K credit to my account, and with many memories of how my mouth and ass was used to pleasure the Dominant and his friends, and how I was made to show off myself for their viewing pleasure, and their darker pleasures such as watching me walk down the street in clothing that is not revealing enough to get me arrested but enough to draw attention.

With my large breasts, I might well be back a month or two later, to service this Dominant and his friends again. Even though I'd look better and be more desirable, the price would be locked in at $7K per week for him.

The facial work would also be done in stages, so that I look better and better gradually, and am in higher and higher demand as a result, which helps generate more contributions, for more work.

it might be that after the breast work and some facial work, I qualify as being facially very beautiful with a lovely pair of breasts, and perhaps another Dominant chooses me and by then the price is $14K per week but his agenda includes taking me to a tropical resort and charging a small private club of men a large fee for the privilege to use me sexually all week long. I would go along with that too, as long as my condom-related and privacy-related concerns are respected. It might be that at the end of that week, the Dominant has used me thoroughly day and night, and so have a dozen other men, and he actually made a net profit as part of that. I'd be proud. I'd leave in medically the same condition as I was when I arrived, and my surgeon would have a $14K credit towards the next work to be done.

I hope that my reply does justice to your question.

~Tanya

Today, Sunday afternoon, I stood at the kitchen counter, making a snack and something to drink for my (female) romantic partner and I. I wore nothing except for my 6" stilettos. As I walked around the kitchen and served the food, I walked and moved sexily, as I do when I'm in my natural state of mind.

I fantasized about this being a different kitchen counter ....

* * *

.... at the home of someone who had made arrangements to have me over for 7 lust-filled days. This being Sunday afternoon, he had half a dozen friends over; eight actually.

Mr. A. watched me appraisingly from where he was sitting in the living room. "You know, you move more sexily and gracefully than any woman I know."  

"I *am* a woman," I reminded him gently. "Did you mean, any *other* woman you know?" 

Mr A. said, "I know that's how your brain is wired. It really, really shows. It's just hard to think of you as 100% female when ... may I be candid?"

"Sure," I smiled.

"... when your face has some masculine features, you don't have female breasts and your cock is, um, larger than mine," he continued sheepishly.

"I'm *not* 100% female," I replied. "I'm a mix of male and female attributes. I'm basically female, not totally female."

"So that's what makes you a transsexual girl? You have a cock but your brain is female?"

"Not exactly. Even if I have it surgically removed I'll still be a transsexual girl because I was born with a cock, have XY chromosomes and so on," I explained. "But, my brain being female is an essential part of it."

"I love how openly I can talk to you," Mr. A smiled. 

"I really DO love how *open* she can be," Mr. B quipped.  The men all laughed.  "Seriously, though, I love how you're so open to being sexually available to any of us here. I can just say I want to ride you again, and that's that. I love that. I love the sex with you, but I especially love how you're available all the time. I love how [Mr. X] arranged that with you."

"Actually, he didn't. He arranged that I'd be here, and my dress code. He hoped I'd be Ok with being sexually available as such, but it's not something that's flat-out part of the arrangement. To be precise, I'm a slut, not a whore."

"So, you don't technically have to have sex with any of us, as part of the deal of you being here?"

"No. I just happen to, because I love the idea.  And, the sensation," I smiled.

The men laughed, and one of them applauded, and the others chimed in.

"I love the feeling of power this gives me. Even though I realize I can't command you, it still feels like that," Mr. C said. "Speaking of which -- I'm ready for more oral sex. Come here, slut."

I put down the food I was preparing, and walked sexily over to him. My walk inspired several compliments, including Mr D saying, "Oh, that just pushed *me* over the edge again," and started unbuckling his pants. I smiled.

I slowly knelt down in front of Mr. C., and caressed his cock with my hand. "You are SO good at this," he moaned. The other men grinned.  I slowly took him deep inside my mouth until my nose was pressed against his pubic bone. His hand was at the back of my head, pushing me harder yet.  "Easy, Charlie, that's as deep as it can go," Mr. D laughed.  "Seriously, move your body so you're on your hands and knees, on the couch. Charlie, we're going to have a brief service interruption here."  I looked at Mr. X, who smiled and nodded.  I tried to move my head back, but Mr. C's hand held me in position. "Give her a quick minute, Charlie," Mr. X said, and Mr. C swore and removed his hand. I hopped onto the couch, and a minute later, his cock was once again inside my mouth, enjoying the sensation as I made swallowing movements with my throat. Mr. D was, meanwhile, moving his cock into position, ready to enter me from behind. Mr. X craned his neck to make sure the cock was condom-covered; it was. A few minutes later,the men cheered and laughed as first Mr. C shot his cum deep into my throat, and then Mr. D rutted me hard and fast until he, too, orgasmed inside me.  

"My turn," said Mr. E, taking up position behind me.  Mr. X's watchful eye confirmed the cock was condom-covered, and I gasped as Mr. E. shoved into me, hard. He was vigorous and had already orgasmed inside me twice, that day. On and on he rode me, trying to orgasm yet again. The mood changed, and the men cheered him on. His own mood became darker, angrier. He started snarling insults at me. I didn't mind. I loved being ridden hard.  Eventually, Mr. E's hand started swatting my ass cheeks. He didn't stop until they were red and his own hand hurt. He swore, obviously frustrated at not yet being able to orgasm. "Pull her hair," Mr. F suggested. Mr. E's hand wove its fingers into the hair at the base of my neck, and turned into a fist. How I love that sensation and what it implies ... there's hair-pulling, and there's sexy hair-pulling. This was the latter kind. On cue, I clamped down with my anal muscles, tightening the opening that he was reaming as much as I could. "Oh, yeah," the rider groaned, feeling the difference immediately, and humping harder yet. "Soooo close," he complained, and his hand groped around to grab my cock and one of my testicles. It closed around them, and squeezed. The sensation to me was intense.  I tried to keep calm, but it was difficult. That took almost all of my mental focus.  

"I want to fuck her mouth, but I'm sort of afraid to do so right now, she might bite me by accident," Mr. F said. The men nodded.

Finally, Mr. E pushed himself away from me, with an angry curse. He'd been unable to cum, and he was upset. Grumbling, he walked to the bathroom. There was a sympathetic silence.

Mr. F shrugged and positioned his cock in front of my face. I took him inside my mouth and he thrust deeply into my mouth and throat. If I hadn't been ready, and trained, that would have hurt me a lot.  "Use your hand too," Mr F. commanded, and my attentions soon brought him to orgasm. He pulled out and decorated my hair and face with his cum.

"Normally, anal sex is like a Christmas present for me, rare and special," Mr. G said. "To have as much as I want is great. On your back for me, baby," he commanded, and I lay down. "Legs up," he ordered.  "How I love these long, shapely legs," he mused.  I put my legs up and straight, in a "V" and he pushed into me, bending me double.  He rode me slowly, for a long time.  When he dismounted, fifteen minutes later, he hadn't orgasmed, but he seemed happy. 

On and on the festivities went, until close to midnight.

"You know, I thought you'd be like a gay guy, but it's so obvious how you're totally female, I mean, fundamentally female," Mr H. said. "The only thing you need is a huge pair of titties."  

"And that, thanks to my generous contribution, she'll be buying herself, next month," Mr. X beamed.  The men made a great many good-natured comments in response.

"Well, I have an early day tomorrow, so I should go," said Mr. A.  "Gentlemen -- a pleasure," and he took out $200 and laid it on the table, making eye contact with Mr. X.  "My contribution to the, um, cheese tray."  The men chortled.

Fifteen minutes later, the room was empty except for me and Mr. X. His mood softened. "You OK?" he asked. I smiled and nodded. "You took a lot of cock today." I nodded again. "Not too much?" I smiled and shook my head. "You *are* intense, aren't you?" he asked, with a tone of respect.  "With you looking out for my safety, yes -- I could relax and enjoy," I smiled.  

"Today's interaction was pleasant, except for the occasional can't-orgasm frustration, but you'd be OK with more dark stuff too, yes?" he asked. I nodded. He shrugged, and walked to the coffee table.  "Eight times two hundred dollars. That's a lot of cheese tray contributions," he smiled. "You know, I made more money off you today than you cost me today. I wonder how much I could make if I flat-out whored you out.  You'd be OK with that?"

"I'm not guaranteeing sex as part of the deal, just my presence.  But, I do like sex so your odds are good," I smiled.

"Very good," he replied, intentionally using ambiguous wording. "I wonder how I'd go about that," he mused.

"May I offer a suggestion?" 

"To attract more men? Sure."

"Think of whom else you know, and assume they're likely to be interested even if you don't know them as well as today's gentlemen. And, ask each of today's participants to spread the word. Make it clear I'm only here for a few more days.  And, be specific. Have an event scheduled at a particular time for each day of this week, at a particular time.  Have themes too. You mentioned dark moods.  What keeps things pleasant is the dialog.  Put a ring gag on me so I can't talk. That, and subdued lighting plus a few mood-related artifacts ... should do it.  Have the dark-mood evening tomorrow. As part of that, whatever I wear can be torn off. Men love competitions. You can have a contest between them as to how long it takes someone to take me from a standing, fully clothed position to where he has overwhelmed me and his cock is inside me, even as I put up some resistance though my hands will be tied to my collar.  If I truly want you to stop, I will say the safeword which you can make out even through my ring gag -- but I don't expect to need to."

"Wow, you won't mind all that?" he asked, in wonderment.

I shook my head. "I think it's sexy," I explained.

"Wow, you sure have good insights," he mused. "Okay! I'm going to do it right now. What do you think -- email?"

"Phone might be more private. I doubt anyone who's been here has gone to bed yet. Most are probably still driving home."

"Yes!" he exclaimed. He punched a few buttons on his phone. "Charlie? Hey ... no, nothing is wrong. Quite the opposite. She and I have been discussing things, and I'm having another evening like tonight's, but it's a darker mood. She'll be gagged, with a ring gag. Yes! Practical. She won't be able to talk. And, you get to rip her clothes off and throw her down and enter her that way. No, it's role-play. She likes it. It was her idea. No, not another $200. Gold-plated cheese tray, you're funny. No, just $100 tomorrow night for you, but you have to bring two guests and it's $200 for each of them. Go spread the word.  If you bring more? Well, bring three or more guests and you ride for free.  Yeah, I need a gold cane, huh? You're funny."

He had another seven conversations like that.

Exactly 24 hours later, he said, "Wow, that was intense. You're sure you're OK? Wow, you can take a lot. I'm glad you're in such good shape. What a great idea that was. You're brilliant.  I'm sorry about the one guy almost barebacking you but we caught him in time, is the bottom line. I guess he got carried away. He seemed fine afterwards, no hard feelings. I didn't think a girl could take on 35 guys and be fine after all that cock. You're sure? Wow. Look at the pile of money.  Yesterday and today, I made enough money to pay for your entire trip. I hadn't planned to make money off you, but you're a fucking gold mine, a cash cow."  He smiled at the terminology.  "You're sure you can do this again tomorrow night? It won't be as many people, or as dark a mood, but still ... yes?  You're fine?  Wow, girl, you ARE intense."

I smiled, slowly writhing, loving how my well-used body felt ...

~Tanya

If you have magnificent skills and you're able to woo the top 0.0001% of girls on here successfully, then this post is not for you.

There are some truly magnificent girls on here. I know since I found one on this site. She became my romantic partner, and remained so for more than a year. She was more intense, lovely and sexy than (at the time) I thought someone can actually be in person. The sexual and emotional interaction with her was so intense that it was significantly life-changing. My real life became better and sexier than a hot erotic novel. So, yes, girls like that are on here. They are very picky. They can afford to be. They are also on here for only a brief window of time.

The CollarMe situation reminds me of the old Wendy's Hamburger A vs. Hamburger B ads. The interviewer asks someone if they're rather have Hamburger A, whose picture shows that it seems likely to make for a disappointing eating experience, or Hamburger B, a yummy-looking, freshly-made Wendy's hamburger.  Invariably, the interviewee chooses Hamburger A, for a litany of odd reasons, and interviewer's face radiates "WTF" as his reaction.

I'm seeing something similar here. I'm probably going to be on this site for only a limited time, so I am thinking I might help the decision-making process along a bit. It really seems to need help. So, if you're a Dominant male and you've spent enough time on this site to feel a little puzzled as to your lack of success, this post is for you -- if you're open to the concept of a transgender girl (or to be precise, transsexual) meaning someone who is a genetic gender mix: XY or XXY chromosomes, born with a cock and yet a female brain. 

I'm a transsexual girl.  Until some years ago, I was convinced that I was male. I drew that conclusion due to having a cock. In the culture where I was raised, that was considered all there is as to gender classification. I tried for decades to fit into male culture; to look and act like a male. That includes wooing hot girls on this site, as a male. Aside from my "hit it out of the ballpark" success story, I have had other success stories on here too, if "success" means a hot female who sexually submits to me in person for wild times and an intense emotional bond.

I now realize that much of my success was probably due to my female mind resonating with theirs. The "I'm mentally so different from most guys" was the main draw.

My point is that I understand things to some extent from the position, if not the mind-set, of a Dominant male, past 30, looking for a hot, intense submissive on this site -- since that's the position I was in.  

The sperm-to-egg ratio describes the actual success odds of such a person pretty well. The hot female fakers are getting better and better, and even though you can weed them out, they do waste your time.  

If you do finally find someone real, and you manage to attract her attention even though her inbox is flooded with many emails and chat requests, then it's a long road from where she replies "hello" to where she's arching her back for you in person.

But, there's more. The bad news is that most attractive girls with huge issues aren't going to put them "front and center."  They cope, and they hide their alcohol or heroin addiction or borderline personality disorder for long enough so that they can eventually disclose it in a manner that sets you up for seeming gracious if you accept their confession, and make it feel like you're betraying them if you decide to move on now that you know the whole story.  

I'm sort of saying that it's no doubt really hard to win a gold medal at the Olympics, and then some medals (as an analogy) are radioactive and will make you sick, even though they look as lovely as any other gold medal. It can take weeks before you can tell the difference. By then, you're in deep.

There's a reason why we observe a very hot girl whose boyfriend is checking out, with the gist of his concern being "yes, she's hot but at this point not even the hot sex with her is worth it as to dealing with all of her issues."

If you go the traditional route, you'll probably have traditional results, which means hours and hours of time wasted on here, with the cruelty of false hopes and false successes.

Some men understandably get tired of it all, and just simply go hire a whore or an escort, so to at least finally get some in-person interaction.  What I'm suggesting is: not overreacting quite as strongly. There is a middle ground: me.

Instead of funding a whore or an escort, fund a mistress -- and end up with someone savvy, open, sexy, sexualized, skilled in BDSM as a switch, mentally healthy, hot and available (for now anyway). Normally, I'm awash in cash.  For a little while longer, I'm not. Until I am, you have the opportunity to woo me with whatever charm you have plus the booster effect of co-funding some of my prettification and feminization.

That way, you really do set yourself apart from the crowd.  By choosing this non-traditional route, you can have a hot girl (me) in your life, soon, in real life.  I'm not guaranteeing sex or BDSM but I happen to love both and I am good at both, so you can figure out your odds at being delighted.

Or, you can continue to hope that your personal charm will suffice. But if you can honestly make a wry face when I respectfully ask "how is that working for you?" then perhaps it's time for ... Hamburger B.

I see value in examples, so here's something I wrote to someone with whom the interaction dynamic seems promising (I removed any personally identifying specifics).

Let's say you have this part-time hot transsexual blonde mistress who comes to X-town once a month for a wild time with you. She deals with the transportation and hotel costs, and you are also welcome to come to Reno and enjoy her there if you pick up the hotel room cost for Reno. She looks nice, but it costs her $ to look as she does, and she'd like to look better yet. Let's assume you pick a level of intensity that holds steady for the first three months, and after that we re-evaluate and adjust up or down.  What sort of contribution to the lady's looks would work for you financially, and how long a time-slice would work for you, per visit? If you could choose, would you want to choose as to what your money funds, i.e., facial beautification or hairline lowering or breast implants or wider hips or a larger ass. for your transsexual mistress?

I'm trying to not be so vague that either of us is disappointed, nor so specific that I come across as a soda machine.

An example might be: "Tanya, if once per month, you get your yourself to X-town and pick up the tab for a nice hotel room on a weekday, then I would like to enjoy your company for an hour or so in the late afternoon or early evening, and then later that night, again, for maybe four hours around the midnight hour, say from 10 pm to 2 am.  Then, before breakfast, i.e., early the next morning, I'd like to enjoy your company briefly, again. Ideally I'd want to wake you up and enjoy your company while you're still sleepy.  I don't know how often I'd drive to Reno, but the option of seeing you for, say, six hours per visit would be nice, and I wouldn't expect that would happen more than once a month, if that. For this level of intensity, I'd want to contribute to your prettification but I'd want the money to specifically go towards your face or your breasts, nothing else. I'm not awash in cash, but since this might be a rare opportunity for someone so intense, I can probably come up with about fifteen hundred dollars for each of the the next three months, but then I don't want to be absent from your life on days when you're not with me. I enjoy sending you hot pictures and I'd want some sexy email and picture sending from you every day, or at least five or so days out of every seven. Would that work for you?  After the first three months we might need to take a break since that level of funding isn't sustainable for me."

Here's the look I'm going for, for starters anyway, as to breast implants ... as shown by the strawberry blonde in the picture.

http://classiccarappreciation.files.wordpress.com/2013/05/istock_000008251749small-1.jpg

~Tanya

The human body has a valve at the anal opening, and then multiple rectal valves, all the way up the vertical colon, every few inches or so.  Mostly, they're closed but they can be trained to open.  Over many years of being an anal slut, I have trained mine to open, so I can easily take in long objects such as a 12" double-headed dildo.  I can also expel them pretty much at will. I recently went for a check-up and according to my proctologist, my ass is in fine shape -- and from his reaction, my dildo trick is unusual.

I woke up so horny this morning. The day started with me (on an empty stomach) deep-throating nines inches of a double-headed 12" dildo.  It's intense but I like the challenge.

Next came nipple training, with suction devices so that my nips were enlarged and extra sensitized.

Not too long after, it was time to insert a similar dildo up inside me, all the way in. It's inside me, as I'm typing this. My body is rebelling inside, trying to push it out -- but here I sit on a black towel placed on my chair, naked with an angelic blonde hair halo around me, back straight, enduring it ... and I am about to go into the shower and allow it to release, after which I plan to pleasure myself with it. The contrast is stark between my innocent-looking face, and what's going on inside me ...

Yesterday, I had a similar session, and it was so intense (I came and came and came) that my ass and my insides felt raw as a constant reminder.  That sensation is so sexy.  Eventually I couldn't stand it any longer. I went to Walgreens and bought out the entire store's supply of plain KY jelly, and a $25 value pack of Magnum condoms. I wonder what the hot cashier girl thought.  Next stop planned was the grocery store, for some cucumbers or zucchini, but then my work situation got busy and I never did make it to the grocery story.  As I'm sitting her, loving the sensation of the huge toy inside me, I'm making up for lost time.

What I'd ideally would have liked would be to have my deep-throat training not be based on a dildo but on the real thing -- and to have had that early in the morning, as I cleaned off and brought to orgasm the cock of Someone who woke me up by pushing His condom-covered and barely-lubricated cock into my ass without asking permission, and while I was sleeping. Then, by now, an hour or two later, He's ready for the next session and my insides are being opened up not by a dildo but by His cock ... 

I'm trying to tough it out for one more minute at a time but my mind is just about going into overload. My cock is oozing fluid ...  

* * *

This next section was written a few hours later.  Today's experience was the most sexually intense of my life so I decided it's worth documenting.  Also, if anyone wonders how intense I get, this is it ...

I went into my shower with three double-headed dildoes, plus a 9" life-size suction cup dildo, and a thicker but shorter dildo that also has fake testicles but no suction cup, plus an odd toy that's 12" long or so, and a combination of Ben-Way balls and a double-headed dildo. It basically has several nodes, almost like wagons in a train.

Right before I went into the shower, I called one of my two female romantic partners and told her what I was about to do. I had her on speakerphone, and then described what I was doing. I expelled the dildo that had been inside me.  When something is inside me for that long, my body makes a sort of fluid whose smell you wouldn't associate with that particular area; it smells musky, almost like jasmine but without the sweet aspect of the scent. I was starting to describe this to the lady on the phone when she interrupted me politely and asked if I was having this conversation with her as if I didn't know her, since she's very familiar with that smell and fluid and has had it all over her arms during our play sessions. I realized then to what extent I wasn't thinking clearly. I've heard of being out of one's mind with lust but I always thought that was a figure of speech. Today proved otherwise. I then started telling the lady a funny sexually themed story and I realize now that I only told her half the story and totally left out the funny part. I was, quite literally, not thinking straight, so lust-crazed was I.  She and I said good-bye and she wished me a good time.

I won't go into detail, but the bottom line is that I pleasured myself intensely, and I came and came anally. I saw cum oozing from the tip of my cock as I orgasmed from anal masturbation. Normally, I get overwhelmed, or I decide I've had enough, and I stop.  Not today. I tried various toys. Either of the 12" double-headed dildos went up me easily, all the way. I didn't try them together, but while one of them was inside me, I also inserted 5" or so of shorter, 7" double-headed dildo and pleasured myself with it.  I came and came.  I supplemented the events by sucking on the suction-cup dildo that I'd attached to the shower wall.  Soon just a few strokes of the short dildo were enough to make me orgasm yet again.  I recall lying in the shower, looking at the collection of dildoes and wondering which one(s) to use next.  By then I'd lost track of how many times I'd orgasmed anally, but it was probably more than a dozen and perhaps multiple dozens. I had the bathroom light on, and it was mid-day.  And then, everything went black. I recall thinking "odd, the light went out."  And then, it went on again and I realized it hadn't been the light, but my eyes had closed. I closed them again; same thing.  So, it slowly wound its way into my self-awareness that my mind was so preoccupied with lust that I couldn't even realize that I'd closed my eyes, hence the perceived darkness.  I've in the past fantasized about being bimbofied and more -- made into a mindless fuck-toy, but to actually realize myself approaching that point was weird.  I should mention that I wasn't sleep-deprived or dehydrated or on drugs nor had I had any alcohol. It must have been the overwhelming effect of sheer lust.

Gradually, even as I continued to pleasure myself yet again to yet more anal orgasms, I became concerned that I might not have the mental clarity to stop. I'd read somewhere of a rat who had a wire attached to a switch and routed to the pleasure center of its brain, and the rat just kept hitting the switch button, with no regard for sleep, water or food. I didn't recall the rat's story while in the shower, but I was getting worried. I tried to think of non-sexy things to break the mood. A friend of mine is terminally ill. I thought about that. Instead of ruining the mood, it ended up being rationalized as "more reason to enjoy life while I still can."

I started feeling almost panicky. Even though I don't have male mental wiring, a cock orgasm still has the effect of changing my mood to less-aroused, although the effect seems to be a lot less dramatic than I've observed in men as they experienced a cock orgasm.  So, I masturbated my cock on the premise that the mood change might help me with my self-control.

Sadly, by then, the pleasure focus of my body had moved to be my inside, and I experienced very little pleasure from masturbating my cock, nor did it even get hard.  I tried for a long time ... nothing.

Finally, I gave up and gave in, and I just lied there and pleasured myself anally, and came and came.  This went on for a long time.

A bit later, the same concerns set in again, and I tried to masturbate my cock to orgasm again. It raised my arousal level to an almost crazed state but the orgasm eluded me. I inserted a 12" dildo all the way inside me and that wasn't enough. I next sat on the thick dildo with the fake testicles, and I loved how it opened me up, and put additional pressure on the other dildo that was by then fully inside me.  I kept masturbating my cock and felt so much pressure, perhaps super-high blood pressure, from it. Finally, I orgasmed from my cock, and felt an instant headache. I felt my mood change, but not a lot.  I removed one of the two dildos from me, and laid down on my side. For a long time, I just laid there.  Eventually, I expelled the second dildo too, and loved the sensation as it left my body. I was very tempted to push it in again and start all over, but I realized that this was probably my only chance at self-control.  I used it, and got up, and turned on the shower, and washed the sex toys and myself with antibacterial soap. At that point, I probably had the dirtiest shower in Reno.  Ten minutes later, I probably had the cleanest shower in Reno.  I got out, dried off and started my day, several hours behind schedule but with a new high-water mark as to my own sexual arousal.

~Tanya

I think I might need to explain a bit more as to the "loot" situation.

Basically, my email inbox is overflowing. As to available time, there's not a lot of it.  I already have two romantic partners (females) and I manage several businesses.

Every month I see a sizeable chunk of my money being allocated to prettifying and feminizing myself. So, although someone's personal attributes are essential to being invited to meet me, if I have the option of spending time with one of two splendid gentlemen, and a year from now, only one of them will have funded a nice pair of implants for me, then I'm going to favor that person. I don't expect anyone to commit to anything before meeting me. I simply ask that you do some soul-searching and ask yourself if you're open to the possibility, and also that you can practically fund some of my ongoing expenses. I'm specifically not asking for cash but I'm enthused that someone help fund the activities that help me look good or better.

I don't know why, but people like giving me things.  On my desk right now, as I'm typing this, I have a set of gifts from an admirer.  Earlier today, I had a conversation with UPS as to yet another package of presents being delivered.  Not too long ago, someone gave me a 1980s BMW 6-series as a present (not a scale model: the entire, full-size car). I'm running out of space. I'm a software engineer so I have started putting things away in numbered banker's boxes, and I have built myself a database that keeps track of what's where. It's a wonderful problem to have, but still...

I love these older BMWs and with the new arrival, I have six of them, but now I have parking-space issues.  

So, rather than sit still and observe a flood of gifts arrive while watching my too-empty bank account, I'm trying to say that if you're going to be giving me presents, I'd like to influence their style and shape to better fit what I would be spending my own money on anyway.  A year or two from now, I plan to have a more feminized and prettier face, a lower hairline and the type of breasts that can make a grown man cry. I really would rather have that than, say, a seventh BMW 6-series car or another stack of sexy books -- much as I appreciate the thoughtfulness of the gifts that I have received.

If you're not financially in a position to be, um, competitive, then for now I'm not the ideal girl for you. A year or two from now, I might be since by then this specific need for funding will, I presume, have run its course.

I hope this all makes a bit more sense now. 

Pretty ass pictures ...

https://picasaweb.google.com/104705921711078059695/Monday_Evening_04?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCJGwuNe_l9bEiQE&feat=directlink

Northern Nevada Desert Sunset ...

https://picasaweb.google.com/104705921711078059695/Monday_Evening_02?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCLHsurmxpMGGbw&feat=directlink

Short-skirt pictures ...

https://picasaweb.google.com/104705921711078059695/Monday_Night_15?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCMOYxou75tPvmQE&feat=directlink

Cowboy hat pictures. :-)

https://picasaweb.google.com/104705921711078059695/Wednesday_Night_65?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCMm6o8a5t4TjvwE&feat=directlink

If you like pretty legs .... then you'll probably like this photo gallery, of me ...

https://picasaweb.google.com/104705921711078059695/Monday_Night_09?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCMm3sKes6PavcA&feat=directlink

My "being a spoiled mistress and getting loot" forum post is generating some interesting and not-so-flattering feedback.

I like precise definitions, so before someone is called a whore, it would be good to make sure she meets the basic test, which would be to formally exchange sexual services for money. In their definition, the State of Nevada also includes things other than money, and perhaps that's not an unreasonable stretch. Someone who says "I'll give you sex in exchange for an orange, or a bottle of vodka, or some crack, or a Home Depot gift card" ... I can see how that might qualify too.

Someone who is willing to spend time with someone else and gets enticed to keep doing so with no sex guaranteed as part of the arrangement ... that's very different and to be clear, that's the dynamic that I propose in "mistress" mode.

I recall reading about a disagreement between Ronald Reagan and his advisors, the gist of which was that Reagan didn't want to add any more taxes, but the highway system being government-funded and being in disrepair, he was finally convinced that the taxes were basically a way of paying for what's being used, and what's being used costs money. Without funding, the relevant item would be neglected and would fall into disrepair.

Applying that to me is a good analogy, I think. If you like looking at my long, pretty blonde hair as opposed to misshapen, brown hair, you get to thank my hairdresser. I also thank her and even so she refuses to work for free, and insists on $130 every two months, to color and style my tresses. Similarly, the L'Oreal company makes a special kind of sulfur-free shampoo that protects the blonde hair coloring. They, also, refuse to make these for free, so every now and then I get to spend money on shampoo. If I don't want my hair to look like alfalfa (which very few guys if any have a fetish for) then I also use their conditioner, which is also not free. Hair tends to fall out, especially for girls with XY chromosomes. Certain chemicals prevent that. They're not free.

If you think my smile is exceptionally white and even, then I thank you, and we can both thank my dentist and also the Invisalign company. These stand together in stubborn refusal to work for free, too. Think "several thousand dollars" and you get the idea.

I'm told I have long and pretty eyelashes. Thank you. I also thank the Allergan company that makes Latisse, which helps the eyelashes grow to be the length they are. This costs me $125 every couple of months or so.

If you like the shape of my face, we both get to thank the facial feminization surgeon who preferred being thanked with a $6,000 check.

I drive an old BMW and it runs really well because I maintain it very well. Similarly, I'm not in my early 30s but I'm often told that I look like I am due to how healthy and cared-for my skin is. Not just does that require daily discipline to handle skin care early in the morning and late at night, but I get to spend money on moisturizer, cleaning wipes, skin treatment, moisturizing makeup, and sunscreen. Figure $150 a month for that, maybe more.

If you have a bushy-eyebrow fetish, I'm not your girl. I have my eyebrows shaped and trimmed. That costs money too. If you like them to be light blonde, I'm not your girl either. I put on make-up to darken them slightly. That's not free either.

At this point, we haven't even discussed lingerie, clothes or shoes. And, I didn't list all the types of make-up involved or the other surgical and related procedures, or this would be a VERY long post.

Bottom line, I have XY chromosomes. I don't love that, but that's the reality. To overcome that and look like a hot blonde girl, I recruit the combined smarts of many vendors. And that costs ... money.

My inbox is a busy place. Many guys want me as a mistress. They still need to make a good personal impression, but ... if I have a pool of impressive guys who want to see me and x of them are also willing to help me pay for looking as I do, or look better yet, then they go to the front of the queue.

Even so, they still don't get to demand sex in exchange for that any more than they could do with a girlfriend or a wife.

I hope that clarifies things.

Don't get me wrong, I like being called a whore, but typically only in bed and during the height of passion, and only as a figure of speech, and only by someone who deserves to be in bed with me.

After a week or two of being on a site similar to this one, I have a few observations.

There seems to be enough demand for my time, on this site and elsewhere, that I am unlikely to be alone on any given evening unless I prefer to be. That's nice and I appreciate being in demand.

However, swapping hot emails with someone only goes so far. At some point I want to meet someone in person. Some of my best relationships have started long-distance and then air travel or long road trips have bridged the gap -- so I don't really care where you are located as long as an in-person meeting is part of your basic agenda right from the very start.

For the right person (and with no regrets) I once drove from Reno to San Francisco, flew to London, bought a car there and took it under the English Channel and drove it via France, the Netherlands and Germany all the way to Salzburg in Austria.

So, where a person is when "our" story begins -- that is typically not a problem. But, if you don't plan to move things along to where you and I meet (and keep meeting) in person, then I'm not a good choice for you.

During our first meeting, I'd like to simply have a conversation and discuss things. I gather that this isn't a very popular idea and most gentlemen would like for there to be much more on the first date. This is perhaps a good time to point out that, even though I do happen to have a cock, I am a girl as to how my head works.

So, in "dating" or "mistress" mode, things need to progress slowly. I would presume to get wooed just as a typical non-transsexual girl would.

To be clear as to the two modes I referenced above: "dating" and "mistress" mode:

"Dating" mode: I would like nothing more than to meet a gentleman who is a great fit for my complex relationship needs. As I've indicated above, for the right person, I'd go out of my way and travel half-way across the world. In fact, I have done so in the past.

That particular person in that specific example happened to be female. I'm bisexual, so I'm attracted to both females and males. Although I'd be delighted if I end up dating a wonderful female (transsexual or otherwise) whom I met on this site, I already have two wonderful female romantic partners in my life right now and I'm mostly hoping to find a male. If that person meets my requirements well, I'd be delighted to date him and it'd just be one more wonderful romantic relationship.

I'm complex and I've done a lot in my life, so for someone to meet my requirements as such won't be easy. I don't realistically expect to meet someone like that on here, or anywhere else. Even so, I do remain open to being hopeful. If I find someone like that I'd be honored and proud to be in his life. If you are that sort of person, you'll know it based on my reaction. I'm not planning to make a list and post it, and then to have every idiot in the world tell me that they just happen to fit exactly what I listed.

"Mistress" mode: I don't know how to say this nicely, sorry. My experience suggests that I'm likely to meet people who are a lot more enthused to spend time with me, including in bed, than I'll be reciprocally enthused.

This is not a new phenomenon -- history has many examples where a gentleman can bridge the gap and get a lady to spend social and sexually-themed time with him when he does fall short on the sheer strength of his personal charm. The gap can be closed by superficial means such as spoiling her with gifts, and typically the lady gives ongoing guidance as to what she'd like (e.g., a trip to Hawaii, a fur coat, a new Mercedes, a boob job).

Handing her cash, or telling her "I just bought you a new car so now you WILL have sex with me" or presuming that loot alone is needed, and that personal charm doesn't feature -- these fallacies would ruin the dynamic and would be a very bad idea.

That's the case here too. My preference is to find a great-match person to simply date, but more likely I'm willing to settle for being someone's mistress with the implications as described above. I could indeed use a trip to Hawaii, a boob job, and more facial feminization surgery.

I'd probably start with a few simultaneous candidates and as time goes by and things get more intense, there would be fewer and fewer candidates and eventually there might be just one.

My experience on sites such as this, so far, would suggest that most gentleman really would rather have a stripper / model / escort experience, i.e., interaction that's fast-paced, gets intense quickly and is sexually themed -- without having to woo the lady. So be it but that's not really what this site is all about.

I'm on this Website with the hope of being wooed by someone's personal charm -- and where he bridges the gap with gifts, only as a last resort.

I do also sell professional time as a stripper, lingerie model and escort -- but not on this website and I don't want to muddy the water with that. If that's what you want, go find me on the Web somewhere and approach me there. Don't approach me as such on this website.

Before you get too excited about that, please keep in mind that once you're in the category of a paying client, it'll be hard or impossible for you to transition from there to "dating" or "mistress" mode, so I don't recommend it. The premise of "you can't buy love" applies to interaction with me too.

And, just to manage your expectations downwards -- when I say "escorting" I don't mean that as a euphemism.

If you want to buy sex then I see nothing wrong with that, but I'm not the person to provide such services and this isn't the website for soliciting that, so please don't even ask.