When I Loved to Be In Lady's Things
It was early in my training. As we departed a jazz club we came upon two men passionately kissing and hugging. She told me to tell her what I thought. I advised I wondered what color panties they were wearing. She was not amused, but said nothing. I had no idea of my naivety. Straight men did not wear panties was what I thought I knew.
A week later I arrived at her condo at the appointed time, entered through the open door, ********, knelt in the appointed place and brought my face to the floor. Eventually I sensed her presence and raised my head to make direct eye contact upon hearing, "Look at me." She smiled, then became stern. She advised this was to be the most important night in my training.
She had ordered in Chinese food which I served on her plate. I again knelt next to her as she ate. She allowed me to sit at the table and advised me to eat well because we had a very long night ahead.
After I tidied up and did the dishes, I was blindfolded. I was led to another room. She dropped me to all fours. Next I had what turned out to be the stem of an inflatable kiddie pool to my lips. There were times I though I would pass out inflating it, but I accomplished the task. She then cuffed my wrists behind me and guided me to a position on my back with my head over one side of the kiddie pool with my ankles resting on the opposite side. After instruction I was not to utter a sound, I eventually perceived warm water, shaving cream and a razor slowly and systematically shaving my legs. The only interruption was the question whether I understood why I was being shaved. I advised my ignorance.
I then spread my legs apart at her command and she propped my ankles on chairs. My head was now within the pool. She then put something under my buttocks while explaining I now needed to lie very still. A foul word or two went through my head as all my pubic hair was shaved. I tensed in fear when the scrotal hair was shaved off, but resigned myself my trust in her which soared even more when she finished without incident. What and why of this continuing event left me in confused. No pubic hair immediately felt strange, but I had an urge to feel and touch the area. I of course resisted.
Time drifted into what seemed like days rather than hours an she continued shaving my upper body. Off came the handcuffs the off came all the hair under my armpits. Still blindfolded she led me to a shower stall, rinsed me off unheated water, handed me a towel and told me to dry. Now I sensed touching my scrotum and pubic area. I was not thrilled about it.
My blindfold now came off. She produced what must have been the 25th or 30th disposable razor and at her behest, I lathered up and shaved my face. I thought I was finished, when I herd, "You're not done yet. Get rid of the mustache. I obeyed like a robot.
"Put these on!" loudly came from her lips as she gave me very feminine pink satin panties trimmed with black lace. For an instant every word of Anglo-Saxon guttural filled my brain. I paused and felt like I wanted to puke. Then in almost a scream came, "Now!"
As I drew the panties up my legs, the same strange electricity that I had felt when she extracted my admission I was submissive consumed me. This time it was even more intense. I was more than half erect by the time I positioned the panties about my waste. I could not hold in a ladylike moan. I feared I would *** then and there but fortunately it stayed in.
"You love them don't you sweetie--say it!"
This was not difficult to say, because I instantly did. As I professed my love of the panties I was consumed with sudden emotion swinging this way and that like bombshells. I was exhilarated, but at the same time I felt I was about to cry.
"It's OK for you to cry now you have your pretty panties on. Go ahead." And I sobbed quietly--something I had not done since pre-teen years.
"I know it is not easy for you to lose your manhood, but I have taken it. How do you feel now?"
Like a reflex I thanked her and told her I felt the greatest I could ever remember. My sobs subsided. I was thrilled when she sent me to a stool in front of her vanity and she proceeded to completely make up my face. Next was a lesson o how to put on a wig Then she allowed me to struggle a bit putting on a matching bra. I gazed in the mirror adored myself.
The following day we went shopping. I spent a small fortune my new wardrobe that she selected for now because my taste needed a lot of work. I modeled some things before her and salesladies. The biggest laugh of the day came in my first attempt to walk in four inch pumps.
My lost manhood was only one of a number of themes in our relationship. There were times I dressed for her and times I did not. In my mind I could not dress for her enough. I enjoyed assuming feminine ways whenever she wished it.
The relationship is now decades over. I do not have urges to crossdresss. I simply retain the memory of the taking of my manhood and how I'd love it taken from me again. Life's present circumstances make that nearly impossible, but I have been there and loved it.