Little Treats

Yesterday when Master returned home, he had brought ice cream from our local parlour with him. Sometimes we take a walk there in the evening after dinner, but because was was early yesterday he had decided to stop there on his way home. He brought the package to our porch, unwrapped it…and smashed my ice on the dirty floor.

“What’cha waiting for?” he asked me. So I knelt down and licked my ice from the floor. It was a bit dusty and crunchy, but nice anyway.

Ah, those summer treats πŸ™‚


No Device

Nine days ago John made me take off the chastity device, telling me I’m not to play with my clit until he tells me to. So now I’m still in chastity, but without the Birdlock. It’s unbelievably hard. In the first two days I got aroused just by my clothes touching me, because their touch felt so intense after all this time. When John uses me, I get hard now, but as soon as I feel I might cum, I have to hurt and pinch my clit to prevent me from actually cumming.

To be honest, it’s much easiert being kept chaste with the device on.


Goddamn Freak Me

Last Friday I had my appointment with the only doctor who didn’t refuse my request for breast surgery right away. John and I had travelled there the day before and checked in to a nice hotel. I was nervous beyond words and I guess my sweet husband needed all his patience to cope with my jumpiness and anxiety. We tried a bit sightseeing, but I actually didn’t see much. In the evening, John invited me to a restaurant, but I wasn’t really hungry. The night was awful and the next morning was even worse. I was so nervous I started scratching myself and so he always took at least one of my hands in his, even during the ride to the doctor.

Well, to put a long story short: there is no way I’m going to have breast surgery in Germany. If I was a transgirl, there’d be no problem, especially when paying for it privately. But he said he would not perform such surgery on a male, due to what he called his professional ethics. Even when I started crying and John told him for how much time I have wanted boobs now, he said there is no way.

When we left, I just felt nothing. I mean, why didn’t he tell me beforehand? I could have saved time, money and nerves. But to be honest, what hurt most was that he denied to perform surgery. If I was a liar, I could have easily told him that sure I’m a transgirl blah blah blah, then he would have said yes. And it really pisses me off to think I should have told a lie.

In the car on the autobahn I just cried. John still held my hand and was very soft and cute with me all day and night, but I just felt like shit.

On Saturday I only felt numb. In the evening, John and I talked other options over. As I won’t take hormones for some reasons, it’s just the question where I can find some doctor to perform surgery on me. I think, after considering my options, there’s only one real chance, that is having surgery in Poland. Sure, they have exquisite surgeons in Thailand as well, but that’s quite a long way to see my doctor in case any problems occur.

So, my next step will be to look out for a Polish surgeon who is fricking willing to earn some money by performing surgery on me.

At the moment, I’m not feeling well at all. The conversation on Friday has not only destroyed my hopes, it also left me again with the feeling that I’m just a freak. Like, not even such a “freak transgurl”, but just a disgusting freak. He asked me why I as a sane (LOL) male being would want boobs while other men are eager to have them removed if they develop some. I honestly answered, because I don’t feel male all the time, yet I don’t feel female all the time, but being a part time female person has helped me so much to live out my feelings, get into contact with my true self and live a happier life. He acted like these reasons were just rubbish. For me, they are not.

Each time I look into the mirror and each time I stuff my bras with silicone tits, I feel incomplete. I honestly envy transgirls for the changes their bodies undergo on hormones. If I wanted to have my telephone number tattooed on my forehead or if I split my cock in two, nobody would care. At the moment I just feel crap. Maybe that’s part of this journey to try to become more like myself, but I hate every single minute of it. I hate asking myself again and again why on earth my father didn’t kill me after he was done with me to prevent me becoming such a damn freak.

Birthday Gurl

Monday was my birthday and John had taken the day off to spend it with me πŸ™‚ During breakfast he presented me with another bead for my Pandora bracelet. I totally love it and I change the beads quite often, but the one that always stays on is that tiny heart lock πŸ™‚

Right after breakfast he had promised me a little trip with a surprise, and he asked me to dress up moderately. I just put on foundation and powder, a bit of a bright eyeshade, mascara and a light lip gloss, and I wore bright stockings, a wide skirt and a matching shirt. He told me to wear flat shoes, so I put on girly sneakers. Over the months, my make up skills have improved, I think. I still struggle with my stubbles, because even if I have bright blonde hair, my stubbles are of a darker tone and shine through quite easily. I have considered having my beard removed with laser therapy, but to be honest I like it somehow and wouldn’t want to cut off the option to let it grow.

First, we headed into the city where John fetched a sort of picnic basket from a restaurant that offers such lunch service. So maybe for no one else in the whole wide world that might have been meaningful, but for me it was as he usually insists that preparing food is my job. Having not to do so on my birthday was a real gift for me and I thought it was unbelievably cute πŸ™‚

Then he drove us out of town to a sort of park. In fact, it’s a wildlife sanctuary where you can hike or just go for a walk and where they have a deer park and the possibility to go on guided boat trips as well. First of all I needed to see and feed the deer and OMG they were so cute πŸ˜€ John had taken his camera and I took about 1200000 pictures of them πŸ˜€ We strolled about the park, took a seat by the lakefront and watched birds, talking the time away. John suggested we might go on a boat and for about two hours we were ridden about the lake, learning about its flora and fauna and holding hands and stuff πŸ™‚

Afterwards, John fetched the basket from the car and we had our picnic on a bench by the lake. For me, that all was a sort of princess dream come true πŸ™‚

In the evening and after I had changed into normal male clothes, we met with some friends and my brother and his wife for dinner. I guess I’ve eaten too much that day 😦

The Other Side Of Chastity

Sometimes when I’m locked into one of my chastity devices, I feel a kind of panic. It might be weird to still feel this after all these years we play around with chastity now, but I think that depends on my general mood. When I’m anxious or nervous or get easily triggered, I mind being locked it much more than usually. Sometimes I fear the device could be to narrow and harm my clit or balls, somtimes I just panic when I think about the helplessness I experience when John holds the keys.

Most subs don’t talk about this other side of being kept chaste. Some pretend they have never experienced this feeling of panic and even anger, others just want to ignore it. If I try to ignore it, I might turn that much deranged that I pass out or feel the urge to hurt myself, and that’s no real option.

So, how do I cope with feelings of panic while being locked in? First of all, I try to remember to breathe steadily and calm, and believe it or not, but Yoga helps a lot with that. I try to tell myself that having the device on won’t restrict my breath or my blood circulation (because if it would, I would notice in an instance). Then I try to remember why exactly I wear the device: because it’s part of my devotion to my Master, because I offer him to control my lust and because I (usually) love to be under control.

I know, I always wrote “I try to …”, but in fact sometimes one things helps better to calm down than another. It depends. Sometimes the best thing is distraction and do something else like go for a run, listening to music or text with friends.

How do I cope with feelings of anger while being locked in? I find that I can reduce anger best when working out, so I run or do some physically demanding chores like mopping the floor or weeding. Anger can build up easily when being kept chaste for a while, because wanking is one of my relaxation methods. I need to take care for myself, because I tend to wanting to harm myself when I’m angry, and believe me, there are more ways than just cutting into my own skin. So when I feel the urge to hurt myself, I try working out and even hitting pillows or watching brutal movies.

The most important thing in coping with negative feelings while being kept chaste is talking to John. He needs to know how I feel, and very often he comes up with helpful ideas to relieve my pressure (which includes spanking, fucking and using me, of course). I find it very helpful to be able to adress what I feel and to be honest, I like it that he keeps on keeping me chaste even though I experience negative feelings. It would disturb the balance of our relationship if he would unlock me too easily. For me it’s very important to be allowed to make demanding, exhausting, even daunting experiences, because that makes me truly feel inferiour and as a worthy sub.

I’m Doing It!

Long time no see here. To be honest, the past weeks were so full of important and beautiful things that I neglected my blog, but obviously not too many people are reading here, so probably no one even noticed LOL

Our week in the UK was awesome. We had rented a cottage on the outskirts of Cambridge and during our stay I met some more of John’s friends from university and school. But mostly we just did a whole lot of nothing, like going for walks, going out for dinner, reading books by the river and stuff like that. I felt totally refreshed when we returned and found that getting on a plane is no longer a big deal for me πŸ™‚

I guess the most important thing for me was that we were able to have really good, in-depth conversations about things that matter to me. For example boobs. Yes, I know I’ve been talking about wanting to have boobs like forever now and sometimes I still felt so horrible and insecure about all that. It’s one thing to dress up like a girl and the other to have surgery, right? I just could witness that over the months and years I got really mad, angry and jealous when I saw transgirls who take oestrogen develop boobs, while I can pump my wrists off with no real effect. I still really, really like the thought of taking oestrogen as well, because it would lower my sexual desire and shrink my cocklette while it would make my boobs grow, but as I have written before: in Germany it’s impossible to be allowed to take oestrogen while you aren’t a transgirl, and I would not want to risk any complications (especially with my depression and stuff) when I would take oestrogen from let’s say unsafe sources.

Surgery would change a lot for me. I’m used to be able to go without a shirt, though I never do that apart from at home or at sauna clubs or so, because my father left a lt of scars on me. With boobs, there’s no way to go without a shirt, even if I wanted to. Usually I never get mistaken for a woman, and even if I’ve gotten better with my body language and all, you can still tell I’m a crossdressing man. With boobs, I’m not so sure about that. The problem is that I’m a shy guy, believe it or ot. I can cope with being fucked publically and being treated like a whore with 50 others witnessing that, but I’m not sure how well I could deal with having no chance to keep myself from being noticed. Gender-bending is still a thing, and it’s comfortable that I just need to take off my make up and dress up in jeans and shirt to be a “real man” again. Or at least as long as I don’t show my nails LOL Being a guy with boobs might increase harrassment and discrimination and am I able to bear that? It might make me ridiculous in the eyes of some, and even though I find that thought very kinky, I surely don’t want to spend my life feeling more like a laughing stock than neccessary.

And after all, it’s surgery, not just a haircut. Though I’m not afraid of the pain, things could go wrong, leaving me with no nipples at all or even leading to death, and even though it’s a bit strange to admit it, but I really don’t want to die at this point of my life.

So, all in all I’m afraid of what might go wrong, but I still and more than ever feel the urge to have surgery done. And that was a biiiiiig topic during our vacation. I admire John for all the patience he has with me sorting that stuff out and talking it over again and again. Well, and one thing he said really helped me to come to a decision, eventually. He said that if I had only problems with the boobs and if I really didn’t like them, I could still have them removed again, much easier indeed if they are made from silicone than if they were naturally grown by taking hormones. That’s true.

Well, and to tell you the truth, I like that he more than once said that he will pay for my tits, because then it’ll be so much easier to make a useful whore out of me. Oh damn, how much I’d like to prostitute myself just to be able to pay him back, with interest πŸ™‚

So, when we were back home I tried to make an appointment with a surgeon for a consultation. You know what? You can pay for that stuff as much as you want, but as long as you’re a guy, it seems no fricking surgeon wants to do your damn boobs in Germany! First question, always and everywhere: do you already take oestrogen? Well. At least one surgeon who operates transgirls too agreed to meet me in person to talk the possibilities over. And because I’m no transgirl, my health insurance will not pay a single cent, but that’s O.K. of course. So in August John and I will meet him and talk things over. Recovery will take about 3 to 4 months and I don’t want to go to Thailand when being freshly operated, so I guess I might have surgery in December or later. But that would be alright for me.

I had expected to be nervous and doubtful about that all, but I’m not, and my friends W and S tell me that’s a good sign. I think so, too. To tell the truth, I can’t wait to no longer need my fake boobs. At the moment I’m trying to find out how big I’d like them to be. Because I don’t take hormones, there’s not enough tissue to have C-cups or so, but I would be pleased if he could make a B happen…

What I’m Here For

Yesterday John and Leo spent some time outside the house while I was working and then doing my chores in and about the house. Recently John thought about having the livingroom made over to get us more space for books and stuff, which I would love. When they returned, we had a belated lunch and talked. John told Leo incidentially about my lame attempt to fuck my sex doll Ugly and they both had a good laugh about me. I suddenly felt to sore and bad that I needed to leave the room. I tried to centre, but when I came back, they were still making fun of me, and I could not help but cry. I guess that’s one thing I really hate about allowing Giny more space inside of me and my life. I have a deeper conection to my feelings now and cry an awful lot more.

They let me cry for a moment, then John told me to tell him straight away what the matter was. I answered that I feel awful for not being able to hump that doll and that I feel worthless and ravenous and have trouble with being kept chaste and denied and all that stuff. He and Leo listened to me and watched me cry even more. To say all these things aloud was somehow alright, but on the other hand it just hurt. After my first outburst was over, John just asked me one single question: “What are you here for?”. Without even thinking about it, I answered “for your pleasure, Sir.” I hadn’t expect his slap in the face. “What are you here for?”, he repeated, and I, totally confused, said again “for your pleasure, Sir”, and added “to take care for you and your needs, and to-” BAM! Another slap, harder.

I started crying again, looking puzzled at Leo, who didn’t do anything but watch me as if he knew something I didn’t. “Let me ask again: what-are-you-here-for?”. I tried another answer: “for nothing special, Sir. I’m just a dumb whore, just-” BAM! I couldn’t help but sob “what is wrong?”, but again he slapped me, several times. “What is wrong with YOU?”, he said loud and clear. “I don’t know, Sir…um…”. More slaps, with increasing power. My head hurt, I cried my eyes out, even though I know he hates dramas above all. “What are you here for?” I didn’t know what to say, so I tried the last thing I knew: “for nothing at all, I don’t matter, I’m just tash, just-”

BAM! BAM! The pain and the humiliation made me go on my knees, but he grabbed my hair and picked me up again. I could feel my cocklette throbbing inside its cage and could only think how well he smelled and how sexy and turning on I found his looks, the hits and the whole situation. He brought my face close to his, so close that I could see myself in his beautiful eyes. Very quietly he asked again: “What are you here for?” I just shook my head. I had said all I could think of and my lust was increasing, being so near to him. “Okay. You don’t know, then I tell you”. He untightened his grip on my hair, but still held me close and looked me deep into the eyes, as if to leave no doubt about how serious he was. “You are here because I want you to be here. Because you matter to me. I love you, stupid, and it’s your damn duty to tell me if you can’t bear what I choose for you”. I was speechless and he smiled, letting go of my hair and pulling me inside his arms. “You matter to me. I need to know when things are too much for you, hun.”

Well, I know he hates drama, but these few polite words just gave me the rest. I cried even more and now Leo came over and cuddled me as well. After a while, when I had calmed down a bit and promised to take better care for myself, John asked me “did you want to get hard?” I said yes, and finally, after all these weeks, he made me lower my pants, opened the Birdlock and made me wank just there where I was, in front of them. It was hard to cum anyway, but it was so good. I loved being stripped naked, soul-wise and all, being loved and humiliated at the same time. Today, I feel high and free, even though I voluntarily locked my clit in again.

I know in the past weeks or even months I didn’t take good care for me. I ignored my borders because I thought I needed to be his cum trashbin only, and I forgot about why we both are here. Just because we love each other. My devotion is meant to be deep and real, but he can only be the best Master I could ever dream of if I manage to be a responsible sub. Lesson learned. Thank you, Master. Love you so.