(Authoress Comment: All disclaimers regarding all my writings hold true here. If you think it was you or any character reminds you of someone then I hope it?s with fond memories but it isn?t about you or them but maybe it?s about me. ) This continuation is dedicated to all the wonderful people who either commented, wrote me or IM'ed me about the enjoyment of this particular story. Thank you so much. I am please to know we are here. I've heard from so many subs but so few doms. To those doms out there, "we submit." I can only hope this continuation meets with all your approvals. (oh, I know I'm going to be spanked for grammatical and punctuation errors.)
Oh, one more thing. Mr. Smith had Michael sign over his bank accounts at the very beginning (someone said I hadn't stated that and therefore the first part was not believable. This story is not believable? Mon Dieu!) I just thought you had all figured Michael was without his money as well as his future.
fundipity@yahoo.com
July 18th ? evening blog
This blog is the only thing that keeps me sane. At least I believe someone is reading it. I don't really know since I just write it and Mr. Smith says he posts it. Is it going to the whole internet world or just to his crazy Roman men? Actually I don't know but I must believe in something.
Mr. Smith controls all my assets. He controls my legal fate. And now, he is trying to control my soul.
Again, I know why he picked me. At least I think I do. It's because?.. (Censored by Mr. Smith).
I don't even get to read my past blogs. I don't know what I've said or to whom.
Something completely different happened today. Well, something different has been happening everyday since last week. It's not even a week. Just five days and already I'm beginning to act like a Sandra.
This morning I got up and could only think as I lay in bed in a baby blue baby doll nightgown (Is that right? Is that what a girl says? A baby blue baby doll? ) remembering, no tasting Mr. Smith's cum still in my throat. Oh, I know it isn't possible. I know I brushed, mouth washed, brushed again and again but I'm sure I can still taste the first cum that has ever been in my mouth.
I almost yelled out at the same time as I was brushing, "Fuck you Mr. Smith.".
Oh, I know you are once again saying, "You dumb asshole, run away. Go to jail it is only 17 years." Or someone saying, "Well if the deal had been for a month or a year than I'd understand." Yes, I can hear all of you with the strength to rebel either yelling or laughing at me. I could hear you when I was in third grade and Jeffery beat me up as you watched. I didn't run then and I didn't fight then. And even today, I don't know why I didn't just run away. Maybe you are all stronger then me.
But, back to today. As I said, something different happened to me today. Actually, several, something 'differents' happened today. First, when I got out of bed I went to the bathroom and filled the tub with bubble bath as if I did this everyday. I shaved my legs and arm pits again, as if I had done this everyday in my life. Oh, I did shave my face which I have been doing everyday. And though it wasn't much of a beard before, it was my beard. Sometimes I wouldn't shave over the weekend. But this weekend and everyday from now on, Mr. Smith had said I would shave my face twice a day.
"Every time you shave Sandra you will see the woman underneath," Mr. Smith said. "Each time you pick up your fuchsia ladies razor you will know you have the possibility of being a lady but you will never be treated as one."
What the hell am I thinking? I can't just have a morning shave? Oh, where is Michael. Come out; Come out, all in for free.
I got out of the tub and watched the water drip down my naked hairless leg as I dried it. I looked at it resting on the tub and saw that without hair it showed curves and was very feminine. I hadn't noticed that before. Were there other men whose legs looked feminine when shaved? The more I thought, the more an image of Arnold Schwarzenegger's leg emerged. There was nothing feminine about his legs whether they were shaved or not. Why were mine so girly like?
And when did my ankles ever look so turned?
Next I was standing in front of the mirror drying off my hair and face when I noticed my tan lines from yesterday. Naked I looked like I had a bikini on. I moved the door behind me which had the full length mirror on it so I could see my back. With the two mirrors facing each other I could see the bra strap lines on my back and the bikini white ass of mine. I had put that full length mirror in this bathroom for the women when they came over. Now, I was the woman in the mirror.
I looked at myself and saw my smooth hairless body. The white part in front where the bra had been made my nipples stand out more. For some reason I touched them. I had never seen myself tanned like this before but now the contrast of my tan and the white skin from where the bra had been made it appear I had small breasts. There even was a little dimension to them. I guess that came from getting older and the contrast. My waist was still trim. It had never really had gotten over 30 inches since I was in my twenties. I guess because I had really watched my diet over the years. I didn't eat junk food and I did exercise.
Fuck it; it's time to, put on makeup? I walked out of the bathroom naked with the thought of my tan lines burning a hole in my brain.
None of you will believe this. And although I am not very good at it, I have started to notice my lips look nicer when I put the base coat on. Hmmm...What a girlyman statement that is. Oh no, Arnold's still poking around in my head.
This makeup thing sucks. Put on foundation. Do your eyes. Try doing that. Placing your elbow on the makeup table and trying to draw a straight line with eyeliner. What the hell did Mr. Smith think? I'm no Mondrian; I'm more Picasso.
Oh yes, I was trying to remember what my girlfriend called this table. It's not a makeup table; it's a vanity. Guess I understand that now. You have to be pretty vain to spend forty minutes of setting your hair, brushing it out, fixing it to look nice. And that doesn't include putting on your makeup.
Try that, you have foundation to apply, then putting some sort of eye cream to lighten the bags under my eyes, drawing lines on my eyelids, curling eyelashes, applying mascara, finishing face powder and then getting to the lips.
Lips! First draw a lipstick pencil line around the outside of your lips. Then put on a little Vaseline on your lips but don't get it on the lipstick pencil line you drew. How the fuck do you do that? And then, apply the lipstick. Oh no, not the way I'd seen it in the movies. No, the girls don't just rub the lipstick over their lips and then smush their lips together. That would be too simple.
Instead, you use a brush and take the lipstick off the stick and paint it on your lips. When you are through with that you let it dry for a minute. Then you take a single ply of tissue and momentarily put it over your lips and dab some powder over it to set the base coat. And, still you aren't through. Now you have to reapply the lipstick again to add the color back and finally add lip gloss.
Oh, and lipstick doesn't just last after that. You have to reapply it every couple of hours and even more often if you use them. Ha, that's why those girls eat the way they do and daintily blot their lips when they are eating. And we haven't even discussed the finger and toe nails.
Shit, no more talk of this. I'm not even sure why I said so much but as I said before, if anyone is reading this, you are my only outside contact.
And what was my outfit for today. Great a white wrap skirt (are there different names for different whites. I know cream but do they delineate whites, fuck) and a fluffy lime blouse with short puffy sleeves. No stockings (great news) and a pair of, no way, white three inch open toed sandals with matching lime piping. For a moment I laughed thinking maybe I should have my nails and lips in lime. What a fashion statement that would be.
After breakfast I came into the living room. There was a new full length mirror in the corner of the room. It stood up by folding out; so obviously it was portable. There was some sort of light around it which emitted a glow. It didn't take long for me to find out why it was there.
"Good Morning Sandra," Mr. Smith said.
"Good Morning Mr. Smith," I replied.
"Sandra, in the corner is a theater mirror. The lights you see on currently reproduce the effect of indoor daytime light. You will find four settings. Indoor day, Indoor evening, Outdoor sunny and Outdoor overcast.
I was thinking. This guy is nuts. He talks to me in that quiet voice informing me about a mirror with some unique lighting capabilities.
But then he said, "You will go over and stand in front of the mirror for each setting of twenty minutes examining yourself. Look at your makeup. Ask yourself, "did I put it on right?" Ask yourself, "Does this makeup go with this lighting." When you are done you will sit down by the desk and write about your observations under each setting. I expect at least 150 words for each setting. You will write it in long hand and when you are done you will edit it, correct it and then rewrite it without error in ink and you will use a fountain pen. Your handwriting will be as feminine as you can write it and you will start over if you make a mistake either writing or a blotch of ink puddles because you pressed to hard on the stylus. Also, the femininity of your handwriting will also be scored"
Next thing you know I'm standing in front of the mirror looking at myself as a woman. It is a full length mirror and I could see from the top of my head to the tip of my red toenails. It was bewildering seeing myself this way. How could this be me? Where was Michael? Not in this mirror. No, the only echo from this mirror was, "You my queen are fair it's true but Snow White is a thousand times fairer than you." Well of course she is. Snow White was a real girl.
My mind was playing tricks with me ten minutes into the mirror ordeal. Wait! I noticed something, Although I looked pretty good my posture wasn't right. I wasn't standing right. I tried different poses and finally I nearly asked the damn mirror again, "Who's the fairest of them all."
But before I did, Mr. Smith came over and changed the lighting to Indoor evening. He didn't say a word and walked away. Now, that was strange, I didn't look as good as I did in the Indoor daytime setting. I seemed to be missing something. Yes, I was missing a little more color or something.
And the next two settings showed even different flaws in my makeup. Standing for an hour and twenty minutes looking at yourself is tedious but the next two hours were even worse. Sitting at the desk and writing about the different lighting effects was immensely time consuming. But writing in long hand with a fountain pen as a woman both in dress and supposedly in penmanship drained me. Twice I had to throw out one of the pages and start over again. This happened almost right away on the first page. I tried to concentrate on my penmanship from the nuns in third grade. Eventually I did get a very feminine handwriting. And the other mistake came then later when on the last page I started to write a bit scratchy from my wrist getting tired.
Finally I brought the four sheets of paper, six hundred forty-nine words, to Mr. Smith. He motioned me to stand on his right facing out and then he took the papers from me. As he began reading he put his other hand under my skirt and gently rubbed around my ass and thighs. Nothing more than this but it was still more than enough.
In order to accept this I, Michael, was slipping further and further away. Sandra was standing there now. And then I snapped back to reality as Mr. Smith finished and said, "Sandra go get into your bikini, fix me a sandwich, a yogurt for you and meet me out by the pool."
He tapped my ass as he finished talking and took his hand out from under my skirt. I walked back in small steps, my face blushing a bit and glad he couldn't see it, to my room.
When I got to my room I sat down and tried to think of the many changes to my life that were occurring. I'd lived my whole life as a man and now in just a few days I found small parts of my behaviour changing. My reactions to things were definitely different. Since I had accepted this five year sentence as opposed to the alternatives I found I was glancing in the mirror as I walked by. When I was standing in front of the mirror I thought my eyebrows needed a little plucking. Putting on lipstick I really saw my lips as I had never seen them before. I had never noticed where my lower lip ended and, what would call it, my upper jaw began; but I did notice it now. There was a distinct line where you put lip liner. Interesting.
Ten minutes later I was in the kitchen in my bikini making Mr. Smith his lunch. Shortly after that I was outside in my bikini tanning. Mr. Smith had given me some tanning spray and instructions on turning over etc. He put a little timer next to me and for the next two hours I felt like one of those chickens you see on a spit. Shit, a chicken is a girl, couldn't I come up with a more manly analogy.
It's amazing how quickly you begin to develop a new routine. By now I didn't even think of my job that I had quit last week. I never really liked going to work everyday anyhow. That was the main reason I had set up my little scheme. My scheme which had now gone so terribly awry.
My phone didn't ring which was surprising. I thought someone would call from work but they didn't. My mother and father had both passed away and I was estranged from my crazy sister. Well, I guess I'd be considered the crazy one if she could see me now. But, she had gone off over 15 years ago with some drifter. I sent her money at first but for the past seven years we hadn't gotten in touch. This happened shortly after our mother died and her estate was settled. And don't get some great idea about the word estate. She didn't leave much. My father had passed away two years before my mother and his illness had consumed much of the meager savings their lives at work had produced.
Actually, once when my father talked about how little he made when he first started working I thought the greatness of capitalism is its ability to diminish the savings of its' workers through inflation. Oh, sorry, I have very unique idea on that subject.
When I went in to take a bath I took off my bikini and I looked a little darker but I knew with my skin I'd be much darker tomorrow morning. Except for those areas which were covered. These would be a constant reminder. Especially since I was one of those fair skinned blondes who tanned dark.
As I stood there looking so feminine in my nakedness I was humiliated since there was nothing I could do to wash it off. I can't even explain it to you but believe me I looked like a pussy with a big clit. Especially the way my pubic hairs were in a little patch. But, how could I be a pussy I thought, even though I was only adequately endowed, at least I had a penis. Well five and a half inches is adequate isn't it. I use to think so but now I thought of Mr. Smith's cock. It was much bigger and thicker then mine. Yes, his was a cock.
Only one more thing rounded out this day. After dinner I went into the living room carrying Mr. Smith's coffee. I was wearing what I've heard girls call 'their little black dress.' The dress had a plunging neck line but I didn't have any cleavage to do it justice. And the dress was backless. In the mirror I noticed I had a feminine back or at least I didn't look like Brad Pitt or, no, Arnold.
Mr. Smith motioned me to sit on the floor next to him. I began to ask why but he put his forefinger to his lips and it just silenced me. Right now I'm wondering why he makes me succumb so easily. I want to fight more. Tomorrow I'll tell him. Tomorrow I'll be stronger.
But, sitting there Mr. Smith went over my mirror report. There in my own handwriting were comments about my eyebrows needing to be plucked and eyeliner used. Also, my comment regarding I needed more color at nighttime indoors? And some powder to take the shine off my face outside in the sun. It's amazing how much you can say in six hundred words.
After he was through I sat shocked as Mr. Smith finished the night's instructions with the comment. "Girl, it was a good report. Now, take you own advice. Remember what cosmetics you need when you go outside and what to use when getting ready for dinner. There's still plenty to learn but you still have plenty of time. You've come along nicely Sandra but you can do better. You know you can."
With those comments I felt two things. First, I really could do better and second a bit of pride over my report by Mr. Smith's compliments.
July 19th ? evening blog
I can't believe it. As I sit here writing this blog I realize tomorrow will mark a week in the change of my life.
Yes, I was right. This morning after I bathed, shaved, and dried off I looked in the mirror. Now I was much darker. My breasts were even more pronounced and the bikini bottom could never be mistaken for a tan a guy gets.
Also Mr. Smith had put a note on my vanity telling me what to wear. I found the hobble dress in the closet. I guess from now on I would get my clothes from the closet. If you don't know what a hobble dress is I suggest you look it up because I didn't know what it was until I read Mr. Smith's note. His note said the dress would help teach me how to walk as a woman. One thing to be sure of, put the dress on after everything else is on and I mean everything including your heels. You cannot do much once this dress is on. It's completely constrictive.
This dress makes you move in short steps. I was so unsteady I nearly dropped Mr. Smith's breakfast twice.
"Do you notice how that dress makes you walk in shorter, more feminine steps Sandra?" Mr. Smith commented when I entered his room. (Now why am I calling it 'his room'?)
As I tried to put the tray down I could neither bend over nor crouch down. "Mr. Smith, what should I do," I asked.
"Nothing Sandra, just stand there and hold the tray and be quiet," Mr. Smith replied.
And then for the next ten minutes he got up went into the bathroom, washed his face and took a piss. I could hear him running the water and pissing in the toilet while I stood there with the tray in my hands. Fuck, this submissive stuff just bends your brain.
Finally Mr. Smith came back into the room in his robe and took the tray from me saying, "Thank you Sandra. You are dismissed."
I walked, if you call it that, out of the room thinking, dismissed. Ha, like some ghetto language he sure did 'dis the miss." At least this kind of thinking made me laugh and made things a bit more bearable.
Not much happened the rest of the morning except for my walking in a hobble dress. It wasn't until I was out tanning myself that afternoon that the next horrific act occurred. I was lying face up with my eyes closed when all of a sudden I felt some gunk splatter on my face. I peeked out of my eyes since some of it had landed there and through the translucency stringing from my upped eyelash to the lower eyelash I could see him, well his cock. He had just cum on my face. Can you believe it? No warning. Nothing! He must have come over to me while he was beating off. I had never heard him approach.
"Sandra, rub my cum into your face and lie there in the sun until the alarm says to turn over. And leave it on until you go clean up later," Mr. Smith commanded.
I felt bad enough a few days ago having to swallow his cum. That was probably worse but right now this felt disgraceful. Rubbing some guys cum in 'my' face and then letting it cook in the sun. The odor permeating my nostrils as I lay there revolted.
Not much happened later that day except for me having to watch video tips on, 'applying lipstick and other continuing education course on cosmetics. Also there was a video on accessorizing.
Crap, I never felt like accessorizing but the video was nearly a half hour long. I didn't want to feel like a fag. So I just thought of myself as a girl.
I'm pretty sure gays don't want to be thought of or called fags either. It is probably quite a derogatory statement from someone straight. However, I guess it's acceptable if one of them says it to the other. I don't know why people categorize other people.
A friend of mine, Duane said, "You don't need to put a label on hamburger for someone to pick it up and eat it." Duane says things like that. It's different from the way you would word it but it makes just as much sense and sometimes it sounds even nicer.
As a woman I could watch the videos. As a man I couldn't. So I watched them on my laptop sitting at my vanity glancing in the mirror from time to time.
Again, I thought, I'm going to get this right. Maybe I can even enjoy being a woman. "No," Michael told me. "Yes," Sandra said.
July 20th ? evening blog
Well, this was my one week anniversary and Mr. Smith celebrated with quite a few changes.
First, in the morning, when I got up Mr. Smith's note simply said, "pick out your own outfit today Sandra. Be creative."
So, it was my choice. I went to the closet before I even thought about bathing. There was a choice and it would be mine. Wow!
Opening the closet door I saw three outfits. The first was white ruffled short sleeve blouse with a short (almost mini) berry rouge tie string skirt. The tag said Newport News. Next to that was the hobble dress. And then there was this dress from some company called Coldwater Creek. It said on the tag Paisley Perfection. It was two pieces and the skirt part was very long. I thought it looked terrible.
So I decided to wear the Newport News sexy little outfit. Later I wondered about my decision. Why did I choose a sexy outfit over the more conservative one? Oh, and I'm sure you knew I wasn't going to wear that hobble dress unless I had to.
There was also a box on the floor marked 'accessories.' Inside were some things I didn't understand and some I did. I won't take you through every thing but suffice it to say the shawl must have been for that ugly dress. The gold ankle bracelet and pink choker were obviously for the outfit I picked out. Picking out the earrings was easy part. One pair had pink circles with a matching bracelet. I guess this was accessorizing!
Well, I took my bath. I shaved both my face and legs. Well, if I was going to wear that short skirt without any stockings I couldn't do it without my legs looking good. Especially since there was this bottle of Sally Hansen Airbrush Leg spray I had seen on the counter in the bathroom the other day.
About forty-five minutes later I was ready to get Mr. Smith's breakfast. That was the fastest I had been ready on any day. I must be getting better at this.
Which brings up this thought? Do you think I sound different? I mean the way I am writing these blogs?
The reason I ask was a compliment Mr. Smith gave me after breakfast about my blogs. He said I was writing more maturely. He also said I seemed more attentive and that this would make my time go better.
Several other things happened today as well. Mr. Smith said starting tomorrow night I would be able to view my account and see my money grow over the years.
"As you see the amount of money which will be yours I think you will find these years to be more than worthwhile," Mr. Smith said. "The Romans were very generous with the women they used."
Well, money did appeal to me. In case you forgot that's what got me into the mess to begin with.
The morning was spent on a new task. Mr. Smith had me sit down at my laptop and gave me a software DVD, a microphone connected to a headphone. When the software loaded a screen came up saying, "How to Sound like a Woman." At the same time a feminine voice said the same words in my ears through the headphone.
My eyes nearly popped out of their socket. Was there no end to this? Then the next screen explained how I would be instructed to use the microphone and repeat several phrases in a feminine voice after a lesson had showed me how best to use my voice. Also, apparently I would not move on to the next lesson until I had successfully completed the one before.
Mr. Smith had explained the course would be in two parts with a break for lunch. If I worked hard each part would last an hour and a half. But if I didn't it could take until I got it right and I would miss lunch.
With my headphones on and mic near my mouth I began. Of course the first lesson was for me to say, "Hi, my name is Sandra." You can't believe how difficult it was for me to say 'Sandra' in any voice. I nearly cried as my voice crackled out the words the first time. The voice in my headset and the screen in front of me said, "Sorry, please try again." After six times a little green box with a check mark and the word correct came up on the screen and in my ear I heard, "very good, girl."
What I found out later was the twenty question test at the end of each part was even more demanding than I had thought. Each question you got wrong you had to go back to the section it came from and review that phrase. This was not a pass fail course. It was a perfect score or repeat.
Saying my name Sandra was the hardest ordeal. On the test I failed and had to go back twice before it had been implanted in the audible part of my brain. It was better if I went slow, enunciated each word and although I didn't have a woman's soprano I did manage an alto tenor to alto voice. I sounded a bit like Kathleen Turner in some TV show I had seen. This needs improvement I thought.
By 3:30 I was outside (I missed lunch but you knew I would) tanning myself yet again. Mr. Smith said I would only have the one bikini so the tan lines would always match. He said to be careful the bikini fit perfectly over the old lines.
By 9pm I was giving Mr. Smith a blowjob. I had realized this was going to be something I would be doing so there was no point objecting. I just thought 'girl' and did it. Yes I swallowed.
July 21st ? evening blog
Oh shit. Oh shit. This couldn't have happened. I got up this morning and the only outfit was the hobble dress so I put it on. I went in to fix Mr. Smith breakfast but he was already in the kitchen. He blindfolded me and said he wanted to take me out to the driveway for a surprise.
Oh?shit..shit?..we got out to the driveway and I heard an engine idling. Mr. Smith opened the door and said for me to get in. I didn't know where we were going but I seemed to obey even more frequently now.
The car door shut. There was a knock on the window and I heard the window come down. Then Mr. Smith's voice said, "Sandra, take your blindfold off."
I did and saw Mr. Smith standing outside and I was inside alone in the back of a limousine. The window was down about 6 inches.
Mr. Smith simply said, "And now Sandra it's time for you to meet and live with your Romans."
With that the window of the limo rolled up. I tried the handle to get out but it must have had childproof locks because it wouldn't open. The window between me and the driver was up and dark. The limousine started to move forward. I felt the bump when we left my driveway onto the public road. "Where were we going," I thought nervously?
Sitting back I began to cry.
(The rest of this blog will come with the third part of 'Suddenly'.) I can only hope you all like this so far. And there will be much more sex coming. I told everyone this would develop much more slowly. So hopefully I haven't lost to many readers yet. lauren fundipity@yahoo.com