Addicted to Pain, Humiliation and Degredation

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ADDICTED TO PAIN, HUMILIATION AND DEGRADATION

Chapter One

Alone once again, I’ve come to the realization that the one place in the world that I want to spend the rest of my life is in service to a dominant woman. Having recently been divorced from a marriage to a woman I was very happy with, I’ve made the decision not to give my heart away again. This time it would be my body and soul in servitude. My ex had indulged my fantasies of femdom. It was time to make those fantasies a reality.
Early on in our marriage my ex and I had discussed and explored my fantasies of femdom and of dressing up. I have to give her credit, as she had no problem with me walking around the house in women’s clothing and makeup. One Halloween I even handled all the “kids” and even visited a few neighbors. I wore a witch’s hat to help make it look like it was just a costume and got a few “ nice costume” comments. I even went to a local convenience store for a pack of butts and just got a smile from the clerk. At times we indulged in the femdom aspects of my fantasies as I was whipped, had a cattle prod used on me, was burnt with candle wax, got penetrated with a strap-on, and even was fed with raw liver, blind folded through all of it. I screamed often but was never really tested as she had trouble really hurting someone she loved despite my desires. Like most couples we fought occasionally but both felt a couple that never fought never really “talked about anything of real importance”. One day she just said she wanted to move on. There was no discussing it. I had been her only husband and she felt “something” was missing in life and new we were never going to have it.
And she was right, I guess. I needed a change too. This time I would find, at least I hoped I would, a woman who desired to take possession of my life on a permanent 24/7, 365 day basis for the rest of my life. Being a man of modest means there was no chance of spending time with a “pro” to indulge these feelings. I doubt I could afford one visit, never mind frequently indulging.
A nearby larger city was known for having clubs catering to those with that had a desire to explore alternative lifestyles more openly. Deciding that this might be quicker than hunting on-line for the results I wanted, I decided to go there Saturday night. I had no idea what to expect and figured that more than likely these clubs were mostly frequented by gays and lesbians as apposed to people into the leather, bdsm and femdom lifestyles. The last thing I wanted, even when dressed up was the attention of men. I had never swung that way and the idea was a total turnoff. I knew that once I got involved in the “scene”, the odds were high that this would be forced on me but knew the life of a slave wasn’t about getting what he/she wanted. Finding a dominatrix was my goal.

Chapter Two

Having absolutely no idea how the night might develop, if at all on my first visit, I decided having my car around probably wouldn’t be a good idea. After doing some Internet searches I found a small mom and pop motel, small and a little seedy just a couple of miles from the club. Reserving a room in advance over the phone, I took a bus to the city and a cab to the motel. My plans of course involved going to the club “dressed up”. Sure this would be more apt to attract men, but surely some of them would be able to steer me in the direction of people more in to the “scene” I was after.
Arriving at the motel around noon on Friday, I paid for 3 nights in cash and found my way to my room. I had about 8 hours to get myself ready for my first real venture out as a “woman”. My first venture into a “sex oriented” bar, and of course my first public admittance of my submissive/ masochistic tendencies.
I grabbed 3 bottles of “Nair” from a suitcase and headed for the shower. For the first time my dressing up would be serious. There was no true expectation of passing myself off as a woman. I had a deep voice. Seeing men dressed in the past in Key West Florida I could only laugh at the few that never shaved. Do it right or don’t do it in public. When all but my back was covered with the Nair, I exited the shower, poured myself a stiff drink and walked around the room watching the news on TV. After a half hour I re-entered the shower and washed all of it off. After touching up a couple of spots with a razor I was satisfied and amazed how smooth my body felt.
Next came getting dressed. A push up bra came first. Having absolutely zero in the way of breasts these were stiffed with balled up tee shirts that had worked well at home. Next came nylons. Pantyhose didn’t seem like a good idea if someone was “looking” for abuse. My thigh high fishnets attached to a garter belt would leave everything exposed if I got lucky on my first visit. This of course meant no undies either. Next I chose a velvety blue skirt that stopped way above the knees and had a slit on either side exposing most of my thighs. For a top I had a nearly see through frilly pink blouse. The sleeves were long enough to reach my wrists and the ends were kind of flowering out past the wrist. Looking in the mirror I was glad I had remembered my nearly nude bra as it barely showed through. The sexy black one I usually wore would have looked inappropriate.
Next came the hardest part, of course. Trying to put make-up on a man that would give him a feminine look, not that of a clown. Fortunately having done this many dozens of times before there was some confidence, but I knew it would take an hour or two before I’d be happy with the results. The hardest part, to me anyways, was the foundation. Getting a masculine face to look smooth and natural without heavy application is quite an effort. How do you wear make-up that doesn’t look like make-up? After applying, removing and re-applying it three times I finally figured it was as good as it was going to get. I trimmed my eyebrows as much as I dared and used a pencil to give them a feminine look. Next I lined my eyes and reached for the shadow. Choosing a blue that was close to the color of my skirt I did all but the outside edge and then highlighted the edges with pink to tie in with the blouse. This was all finished off, of course with some fuck me red lipstick and a gloss cover. Not knowing yet if the job was satisfactory in it’s total,

I donned an auburn wig that was shoulder length and somewhat curly. Make-up just doesn’t look right without the hair to go with it. I looked at the mirror and said “yes”, proud of the final product. I spent a while brushing my hair and realized that the best investment I ever made in “girly” stuff was the high quality wig. It was the one thing I was proud of, my hair.
Still two hours till my cab would arrive and I only had my nails, heels and a dab of perfume to go. Choosing a shade of polish a bit darker red than my lips, I put three coats on, re-doing four fingers because of “overages” onto the skin before being satisfied. I always wore heels when dressing up at home, so walking around the room for a short while was all that was needed to get me comfortable. A little dab of perfume behind each ear, in my “cleavage” and on each wrist had me ready to go. It was time to pour a three finger shot of VO, my favorite, and wait for the cab. I had never done drugs of any kind but needed a little buzz before my first step out into public.
I was surprised by a knock on the door and nearly panicked. Fortunately, I heard a guy shout “cabs here” and relaxed some. It was dark so walking out wasn’t a big deal. Hollering out I told the cabbie I’d be a minute or two. I grabbed my clutch purse, checked to see that it contained my lipstick, ID and $50 and walked out to the waiting cab. Entering the back seat I noticed the surprised look on the face of the cabbie and it donned on me he had heard a man’s voice but was looking at a woman in his dark back seat. When my deep voice told him where to take me he kind of snickered and drove off.
Arriving at the club the cabbie said “that will be seven dollars. If you want to save some money you can pay me by wrapping those nice red lips around the tip of my cock.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m not interested in guys. And I wouldn’t mess up my make-up for that much money even if I was” was my reply, with a big smile on my face.
“Just what are you in to” he asked.
“ Come on in when you get off work and find out”, I replied. I handed him a “ten” and he drove off.
Entering the club I was amazed at the amount of people. There had to be a couple of hundred. Music was blaring. Never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed there were so many people with “different” ideas when it came to sex. And this was just one of three clubs listed on the net catering to alternative lifestyles in this city,
Being dressed as a woman had an immediate advantage. As I walked up to the bar one guy almost fell off his stool offering me his seat so quickly. He didn’t look very surprised when he heard my masculine voice. It was dark enough that I was sure he didn’t know I was a guy till he heard my voice. Naturally, offering me his seat gave him the idea he might get rewarded and he moved his hand onto my crotch for a little feel.
’ Uh, uh big boy. I’m not into guys. I’m a sissy that likes to be abused and came here to find a dominant woman to put me through the paces”, I informed him.
Obviously pissed off he slapped me hard, yelled “fucking sissy” and stormed off. At least I had a sore cheek to show for just five minutes in the club, turning around I ordered a drink.
As the evening went along I grew more and more frustrated. It had been a waste of time. All too often a guy would come up behind me, reach around, and cop a feel before I new he was there. M any others asked if I was a bottom (no), and some were bold enough to try to kiss me without saying a word. Dozens of times I explained what I was looking for. It sure must be easy for a gay man to hook up in this place. Gays seemed to outnumber lesbians at least ten to one. Maybe one of the other clubs was more popular with them. Was any club in town going to produce the results I was looking for? So far two hours had been spent warding off unwanted advances.
Then, finally a woman approached. She was decked out completely in leather, even elbow length gloves. An African American with very dark skin and closely cropped hair, she wore a studded collar and had studded cuffs on both wrists. The boots she wore were bright red, matching her gloves. A short whip was attached to a belt and hung by her side. Her make-up was heavy and kind of whorish looking.
“ I was told that there was someone out here that might interest me,” she said in a very domineering tone. Didn’t anyone tell you there’s another bar in back for doms and subs? Without waiting for an answer she grabbed my hand and very roughly pulled me after her towards a door in back. Looking in, I realized I had wasted the last two hours. Here were my kinds of people.

To be continued

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One Response to “Addicted to Pain, Humiliation and Degredation”

  1. litlone1 says:

    Nice story Really captures the desires a Sissy has I’m going to read more of these stories

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