Tara's Tale

by Tara Love

  

Chapter 2: A Day in Drag

I woke up with a start. I had slept like a rock and needed to orientate myself. Ok., I was in my own bedroom. So far so good. But then I looked down the pink lace nightgown I was wearing, and it all came back to me with a bang. I jumped out of my bed and opened the door of my closet. Right. No clothing fairy. My drawers were still filled with female clothing only, most of it on the daring side. I also remembered the note that my neighbour, Dom, had left for me. ("Come by at 11 for coffee, and we will discuss your future. Don't be late!!!"). What should I do now? I looked at my alarm clock. Still just nine o'clock. I had a bit of time to think about my options.

It dawned to me that, really, there weren't many. I could just try and defy my neighbour, and stay where I was. Only that I had nothing to wear. I had to work the next day, and it was this kind of be-there-or-it's-your-arse day, where being sick is simply not an option. We had a meeting at nine, and I would have to report on the outcomings of my trip to England (well, they would be surprised, I thought by myself). Staying inside my own flat did not solve my clothing problem. She would simply stay where she was, too, and I was still without a decent outfit for Monday. All the stores are closed on Sunday. Not good. I concluded that I simply HAD to dress up and go to her place. I needed to talk to her. She had had her bit of fun with me, and I had to admit that she had won and I had lost. I owed her a big one. But, hey, now give me back my clothes, and I will make up for it, ok? Yes, that was what I had to do.

But simply the thought of going over to her place in broad daylight, dressed as a woman, gave me the creeps. So far, I had only been walking outside in the dark in less frequented areas close to the city center, until yesterday, that is. Sometimes I had made plans to go for a Sunday afternoon stroll, but I had always backed up in the last minute and simply stayed inside, reading. But today I had no choice. I took a shower and started to put on the clothes that Dom had left on my bed the night before. They were not as "hot" as my outfit yesterday, and I silently thanked her for that. I started with the white lace bodystocking, which shaped my waist, and had an inserted C-cup bra. I looked of my breast forms that were lying in the bathroom from the night before. How proud I had been of myself. The moment I had brought them home from England, I had dumped all the old balloons I had used before, filled with water. They were a lot cheaper, of course, and they had the advantage that I had been able to fill them to my liking, but they simply could not compete with the attachable silicone forms I had bought, and so I had thrown them out. I had bought C-cup forms, because I figured, if I was to spend so much money, I wanted the whole thing. But especially with the top that I was going to wear, I had preferred the balloons to be filled to an A-cup size only, shaping nice and pert breasts. Call this a "coming of age" of a crossdresser.

I inserted the breast forms and looked at myself in the mirror. My tits appeared a bit to large to me, but then, I did not have anything different. Also, I was sure that Dom preferred it that way. She had written as much in her note. I opened the package of white stay-up stockings that Dom had left out and slid them up my legs. You could see a couple of light leg hairs, but then I was going to wear the long skirt, and that would just have to do. I slipped into the skirt of last night, and, after a very close shave, started with my make-up. Foundation, dark-pink eyeshadow on my eyelids, light-pink above, brown eyeliner (I had worn black last night, but brown is a bit less obvious and just enhances my green eyes), brown eyeliner also to dye my dark-blonde eyebrows, mascara just at the outside of my eyes, pink lipstick and a bit of blush. Perfect. Now my wig. I brushed it and noticed that it had not suffered from my personal ordeal the night before. The earrings a friend had given to me. I used to go for makeovers to her, and we became friends. She had enjoyed doing my make-up, and she frequently claimed that I had been a perfect canvas for her. She was an artist. I had missed her since moving to Stockholm, but had learned a lot from her to improve my make-up skills. She had given these earrings to me as a farewell gift. They were clip-ons, large and golden, and fitted very nicely to my new wig, which leaves the ears mostly free, elegantly curving behind them.

Now the top. It was pink and of ribbed cotton with short sleeves and a high collar. I had bought it a few months ago, when I had decided to dress maybe a bit less sexy sometimes but with less chances of being harassed. I pulled the top over my head, careful with the wig and the make-up. It was tight, and I noticed in the mirror, how it emphazised my flat belly and my large breasts. You could see the nice features of the cup holders of seductive sheer through the material, and the nipples sticked out prominently. Damn it. I rearranged my breast forms a bit to the side, trying to hide my wide shoulders. That worked to a degree, and I looked would give myself a "pass". Not much to be done about my breasts, though. They were large, nicely arranged inside the cups and simply begged for attention with nipples that seemed to ask to be sucked. In fact, they looked a lot like the breasts of a healthy-looking girl that I liked to stare at, on occasions. Why had I picked the largest nipple size? I really wished now I had kept the balloons. I put on my shoes. Slippers today with a fairly low heel would do. I went into the corridor and looked at myself in the full-body mirror. An elegant woman, casually dressed in a wide, black skirt with white stockings and a plain, pink top. So far so good. Spectacular tits, though. Shit. But nothing to be done about that. It was only 10 o'clock now, and there was still time to have some breakfast and think about a plan.

Breakfast proved easy to come by, a plan not. No matter, how I turned it, I was in a fix. No clothes. No car keys. No apartment keys. Got to work tomorrow. No clothes. Need to see her and talk some sense into her. What exactly should I say? While I was sipping my coffee, I saw a couple passing by my kitchen, glancing inside, at me. Shit. Need to be more careful. I went and closed the curtains and sat down again. No clothes. 10:30. Time was flying. The walkways outside were slowly becoming more busy. People were going to church. People were going for a Sunday brunch. I never noticed that so many people were around on a Sunday morning. 10:45. I just could not go out like that. I couldn't. What would she do? I did not want to know. But then I came to the conclusion that, no matter how I looked at it, this was really out of my hands now. I simply had to follow her instructions, hoping I was not seen by any of my neighbours, hoping that she had more sense than it appeared right now. But hey, even if somebody saw me leaving my flat in drag, this could always be a woman I had picked up in a bar the night before. That helped a bit. 10:50. Needed to get ready, slowly. Nice and sunny outside, with a light breeze. Sunny? Well, there was an idea! I had bought sunglasses a while ago, for exactly that purpose. They were woman's sunglasses, and would take some of the pressure off. Nobody could look me in the eye anymore, and chances of passing were drastically improved. Where were they? In a moment of panic I was all over my apartment, but was able to find them. Great. Much better. 10:55. ("Don't be late!!!") Time to go.

I grabbed my purse that Dom had left here the night before, took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped out. This time I did not even have keys to lock my apartment, and so I simply pulled the door in the lock and quickly stepped down the three stairs into the walkway. A family was walking on the far left, giving me a brief glimpse, and a guy came from from the right. I had to turn right, and he gave me a very interested look, his eyes fixed on my breasts, though, which were bouncing slightly with every step. I quickly walked by him, turned in the way that led to Dom's flat, and with a few steps was standing in front of her door, my heart racing. 11 o'clock. I rang her bell and waited, standing with my back to the walkway for a minute that seemed like an eternity. No response. I rang again, feeling like a thousand eyes were looking at my back. Still nothing. I did not dare to turn around. After about five minutes of fruitless waiting, I decided I had to move on and go back to the safety of my own flat. I was just about to turn around and leave, when I heard her voice from behind: "Oh you're in time! I am sorry but I just went out for a walk." I turned around and looked at her. She looked great, dressed in black leather pants and a light summer jacket with leopard print. "You look nice, sweetheart!", she shouted out, and I returned her compliment timidly. It slowly dawned to me that she was probably just coming from my apartment and had locked it from outside. She still had my keys. Damn it. I was sure she had locked me out, but she was just as cheerful as yesterday night. "So shall we go inside?", I managed to ask timidly. "But why? It is such a nice day for a walk! I know a good place for brunching, where we can sit down and chat!" It sounded like a suggestion, but I knew better than that. I had no choice, but to go with her.

As the night before, Dom was dominating the conversation. But I must admit that I thoroughly enjoyed that part. She kept assuring me that I looked great and nobody could tell. I noticed that most people passing us gave us only a brief glimpse and then minded their own business. I silently enjoyed my skirt flying with every little breeze. Dom told me that "passing" was all about confidence: "If you are comfortable with yourself, people will not dare to bother you. That's what gave you away yesterday. You really look great, and nobody will ever notice, if you show a bit of confidence. So chin up and tits out! You have nothing to be ashamed of." We chatted about my crossdressing experience, and I did not even bother to lie, as I was sure she would catch me immediately. She made me feel comfortable and accepted. After a walk of 20 minutes, she directed us towards a café, which offered a brunch. I hesitated, but she just walked ahead without giving me a glimpse, and I knew I had to follow her. She picked a table for two at the window and sat down. "You will have to take your sunglasses off in here, dear, or otherwise you look silly." She was right, but it still took me a lot of courage to take off my shades. "Tits out!", she commanded suddenly, as I tried to hunch my shoulders, "I do not want to be caught here with you, just because Mrs. Pound-me-in-the-arse thinks she doesn't feel comfortable with herself!" She had not even bothered to lower her voice, and I looked nervously around, but nobody of the customers had heard her. I sat up straight, nervously glancing down by glorious breasts. "Chin up!" She talked even louder, and some people briefly looked up. "That's better, and keep that as a warning!". Then she smiled at me. I was fucked, and we both knew it.

A waiter came and braught us menus, offering coffee. It took him a couple of moments to direct his looks away from my breast, and he spilled some coffee. "Now, what the hell is YOUR problem?", Dom shouted at him, and he blushed deeply as he apologized and left, not without a last glance at my breasts. I was embarassed, too, by all the attention we got from the other customers, but Dom obviously enjoyed the whole situation. The waiter returned and took our orders, and we were back at our conversation. I told her how I had improved my outfit, and that I was proud of myself for daring to leave the car and go for a night stroll, but how I just was not ready for a night like yesterday's. "Wait and see, soon you will be totally comfortable in your sluttiest outfits in the busiest bars!", she assured me. I was not sure if I found that comfortizing. She told me that she knew a lot about crossdressers and their secret fantasies (I sure hoped, not!), because she had had crossdressing friends before and read some of their magazines. Again not much of a comfort. "We will simply have to break you in.", she finished. Great. Again this "we". I had not dared to ask her for my male clothes, yet, but now was the time. I told her about the important meeting I had the next day, and how I desperately needed my clothes back. She was well satisfied to hear that. "I will put you through a little test today, and when you pass, I will give you back you clothes. Don't worry", she assured me when she saw my face," I have already started the test, and you are doing extremely well! And now tits out!" she commanded in the end. The waiter brought our orders. He blushed again.

We left the café. "Let's do a bit of sightseeing! How well do you know the city?" Again a suggestion, but again not much of a choice. She entered a bus that went downtown, and I had to follow her. An embarassing moment occurred when I needed to pay for the ride, but had no money on me. I had to call back Dom and ask her for money. The driver starred at me. Dom paid for me and walked ahead to the very end of the bus, and I felt twenty pairs of eyes starring at me. I had learned my lesson, though, and kept my chin up and my shoulders back, but was glad I brought the sunglasses, which I was wearing again. To my terror, most of the seats in the back were taken, and Dom sat down next to a young girl, while the only seat left for me was next to some middle-aged guy with with a walkman. Out of the corner of one eye, I saw Dom smiling satisfied, while out of the corner of the other eye, I saw the guy next to me staring at my breast out of the corner of his eye. I had never realized, how much well-bodied woman are harassed in public, and made a mental note to myself to treat woman more respectfully than I felt treated right now. I pressed my knees firmly together and arranged my skirt, but I felt his leg started to press against mine. When I retreated, he gave up immediately, but kept starring.

We arrived downtown and Dom jumped off the bus, with me following suit. We walked around and did sightseeing. I enjoyed the breeze playing with my skirt all the time, and I must say that I felt more comfortable with every moment. Clearly, nobody had recognized me for what I was, and if they had, they did not care. "Wait a second!", said Dom, and went to a Japanese tourist passing by, "Would you be so kind and take a picture of the both of us?", she asked him, and produced a digital camera out of her handbag. Shit. I knew I was in for it. "Take off you shades, sweetie!" Two woman at the water front on a late-summer day. One smiling. One not. Click. Great. "Thank you very much!". It continued this way. By late afternoon, she must have had twenty pictures of the two of us, or of me alone, taken by herself. She would direct me in a way that my tits were the single biggest attraction in the pictures. Me bending over a water fountain, drinking, my tits hanging down. Click. She was a skilled photographer, using the light to her advantage. At one point she arranged me in the shadow on a park bench, reading a book she got out of her handbag, with my legs crossed in a way that my skirt gave look on the seams of my stockings. I tried to protest, but I knew it was a lost cause. She was in control, and immediately let me know of that. I gave in.

"Now look at these and tell me, who on earth would think that this is not a woman!". We were sitting in a café in the late afternoon, scanning through the pictures. She also pointed out to me on some pictures some slight mistakes I had made in my pose, looking less feminine. "This is what we will have to work on, dear, in a few weeks you will fool everybody, and than we will move to step two." I remember these words as clearly as they were spoken today. I really did not want to know, what "step two" was. I simply hoped this was an empty threat, and this would all be over tomorrow. Finally we left and took the bus home. By then, though, I had become entirely accustomed to being a woman, and I even had taken to stare back hard at the guys who could not take their eyes of me. The bus ride did not scare me as much, either, and we went back to her apartment. "Only a couple of more pictures, dear, and then I will let you go home. We need to try your different outfits." No use protesting. She asked me to make myself comfortable in her apartment, while she went over to my place and fetched the outfits she wanted me to "model in". It was as I had expected. The outfits went from elegant to sensual to sexy to slutty. Click, click, click, click. She asked me to pose in very daring positions, revealing the garters she made me wear, wearing the red top from the night before, showing off my tits, but this time with a black leather mini skirt that could not reveal the top of my stockings. Click. Me on the bed on all fours, photographed from behind, my legs spread inivitingly, the skirt barely covering my arse with the garters and stockings clearly visible while I was seductively looking into the mirror at the end of the bed and straight into the camera. Click. You got the picture. She changed my make-up between each shot, getting sluttier each time. By now I was wearing bright-red lipstick again and the longest false eyelashes you could buy. She thoroughly enjoyed herself, while I tried to protest before every shot without use.

"And now Tara, the sex slave!", she said, "this will be our last shot, I promise." I had to take off my red top and the skirt, which had hidden nothing to start with. The bustier I was wearing could not entirely hide the fact that I was wearing breast forms, and so she gave me a black satin teddy with a lace front to wear on top. Then she produced a pair of handcuffs. "Please no!", I tried, although I knew it was fruitless, "Please, Dom, don't you think we have enough now?". "Sweatheart, when I say sex-slave, I mean it, and now get your arse over here and put the cuffs on!" What choice did I have? Her tone had become harder with every protest of mine, and I know it was useless to start with. I gave in and let her handcuff me to the metal bed frame at the foot end, kneeing on the bed. Click. Click. This time it was the closing of the handcuffs, with my arms spread wide and my breasts hanging down. Then she blindfolded me. "Just for a moment!", she said and I heard her going to her closet, then take of some of her clothes and put on others. "You will never see me entirely naked", she exclaimed, as I heard her being busy at the make-up table. I was nervous. Finally I heard her steps coming bed to the bed, and my blindfolds were removed. "Time to teach you a lesson!", she said. I looked at her and knew I was in for it. She had changed into a shiny latex outfit, the top showing off her breasts. A skirt with a zipper down the front side. Her hair was now stretched back firmly and put in a tight knot. She had applied new make-up and looked much more strict now. She held a whip in her hand. "I know that we just have met, and you don't know me really well, and I give you a bit of credit for that. But from now on you will learn that this outfit of mine means trouble, and that's exactly what you don't want. Now, sweetheart, I want you to remember one thing: I do not like your continuous protesting whenever I ask you to do something. Is that clear?". I nodded. "Is that clear?", she asked, this time raising her voice. "Yes, Mistress". I knew the right answer. "That's better. I really enjoy your company and friendship, but you need to know that there is another side of mine, which you don't want to see too often. Now how often have you tried to protest today, when I asked you to do something for me?" "I don't know". SMACK! I felt the whip burning into the flesh of my backside. "I don't know, Mistress!" "That's better. I see you are learning fast. It was twelve times today that you refused to do as I asked you" "But …" SMACK! I shouted out loud. It really hurt this time. "If I were you I would not use this word too often. Now what do you think should be the punishment for twelve protests?" I knew the answer, and I knew there was no use playing around. I would just make it worse. "Twelve strokes, Mistress" I said with tears in my eyes. "That's exactly right, my dear. Now do you think you will enjoy these twelve strokes, sweetheart?" Careful now, but even she must have known the true answer. So I tried: "No, Mistress". SMACK! "Never say 'No' to me again! You will always gladly accept the punishment I have for you, do you understand?" "Yes, Mistress." "Good. Now because I give you credit for not knowing me, as I said, I will let it be for now and put the whip away. But be warned in the future!" I was greatful beyond words.

"And now I want to tell you one more thing: I know you don't believe me, but I promise you that when I am done with you in a year or so you will have swallowed more cum than the whore of Babylon, and more men will have pounded this pretty arse of yours than you can count. You will be known as the biggest slut in town and you will love to dress like a whore and pick up the guys in the bars and get fucked in the men's room, because you can't wait to get home. Trust me, it will come like that, and if I were you, I would not even try to resist. I have waited for somebody like you for years now, and had everything planned out a while ago. Trust me, I am dead serious." This was the first time that I was really scared. So far it had all been a sort of a game, I thought. A bit kinky, sure, but nothing 'serious'. She was just having a bit of fun with me. But now I was looking at this woman standing in Latex clothes in front of me with a whip in her hand. I gazed at her with wide-open eyes. I looked at myself in the mirror on the opposite wall, unable to recognize myself. A slut on a bed in black lace lingerie and fishnet stockings.

She took shots with the digital camera with me chained to the bed, starring into the camera with wide, unbelievable eyes, enhanced by deep-black eyeliner. My mouth bright-red, full, glossy and half-open, ready to take in whatever comes along. "Now we will have to start preparing you for your future life." She blindfolded me again and went to a drawer, where she took something out. She came back. "This will loosen you up. I don't want to hear a noise!", she warned. She reached between my spread legs and undid the small buttons of the teddy, exposing my backside. She quickly pulled down my G-strings. I tried to remain calm. "It will feel a bit odd in the beginning, but soon you will get used to it." She slid something into my hole. I grasped. A butt plug. Deeper and deeper, widening my hole. It felt really big and hurt. "It always hurts the first time, sweetie. This is part of every woman's life, and you will have to be prepared for even the largest dicks!" It still had not stopped. She pushed really hard now, and it went ever deeper inside me, wider and wider. Finally it was tailing to a thinner diameter, and I could feel my muscles closed tightly around it. This thing completely filled me out. "How does it feel?", she asked cheerfully. "Big", was all I could manage, and she laughed heartily. "There will be a lot bigger ones, dear." Then I heard her busying herself in front of my face at the metall frame for a while. "Surprise!", she shouted finally, as she removed my blindfolds.

I stared at a full size, real-life strap-on dildo that she had fixed in front of my face. I did not want to believe my eyes. "Now this is something you will have to learn, dear. Your future men will very much appreciate this. I think you know, what to do, don't you?" I simply nodded, slowly taking in the extend of her words: "Yes, Mistress" "You can call me Dom again. I really want us to be friends, and you deserve to have a good friend who guides you into the world as a woman. And now do your job, sweetie!" I looked at the tip of the dildo. It looked very realistic. I hesitated. "Now don't be shy, dear, I don't want to be waiting here forever!" The dildo was 12 inches long with hair and balls attached at the end. I closed my eyes and slowly approached the top. SMACK! It hurt even more this time. "Get going, I say!" I pursed my lips, and forced myself to kiss it. Click. She had come very close with the camera now. I stretched out my tongue and played with the tip, eyes still closed. Click. I tried to remember what my ex-girlfriend did, putting myself into her situation. I closed my lips aver the head of the dildo and slowly took it, in and out. "Faster, dear", I obeyed and accelerated my movements. In, out, in, out, my lips always firm around the object. Click, click. "And now deeper, sweetie" I kept my eyes closed and forced the shaft into my mouth as far as I could. It was big and I had to open to full extend. I did not hear the clicks anymore, but I still felt that Dom was very close with her camera, following my moves. She was making a movie. In, out, in, out. I could feel my breast forms bouncing with every move, giving me the "realistic" feeling that the advertisement had praised. "I want to hear some noise, or are you not enjoying this?" I started to moan in my female voice, and went even faster with my movements, forcing the dildo down my throat, moaning loudly. "Now all of it! Force it down!" I obeyed and stretched my throat, until I felt the balls and the hair curling my chin. "That should do for now. You have a lot of talent, and only need to practice a bit more. But we will work on that." She finally stopped me. She removed the dildo from my face, and pushed some hair of my wig out of my face. She then showed me the movie she had made. Everything looked real. You could not even see that I was dealing with a dildo fixed to the bed frame. She was a skilled movie maker, too.

I was still handcuffed, and she left the room briefly to put the camera away. Only when she came back did she undo the handcuffs. "Thank you, Dom", I was truly glad it seemed to be all over. For now, anyway. "One last favour before you go, but I am sure you will enjoy this." (I seriously doubted it) "I have become quite excited during the last two hours, with you in all these poses with all that lingerie, and I fear I might not be able to sleep, unless somebody calms be down a bit." She sat down in a chair and slowly spread her legs, invitingly. "I wish I had a man here, but you will do, too. I have just witnessed, what you can do with this sweet mouth of yours." No need to say more. No point in protesting, either. After everything I went through since last night, this seemed to be comparatively harmless. Afterall, we were friends (sort of), and she had seen me in all kinds of outfits, doing weired stuff. I had done that to my ex-girlfriend, too. Dressed as I was in black lace lingerie, with the teddy in the crack of my arse and the fishnets pulling on the garters of my bustier, I crawled between her legs and slowly pulled down the front zipper of her skirt. There were no panties, and I got started right ahead. She was very wet, and I slowly explored her with my tongue. She gave a moan. I came closer, pressing my lips on hers and pushing my tongue deeper into her. She closed her legs around my head and pushed my head harder and harder against her, moaning louder and louder. I found her clit and played with it, and she started low screams. Faster and faster I went, a pussy getting wetter and wetter around me and my nose stuck into her, taking in her smell. At last she orgasmed, and slowly calmed her breath down, but did not let go of my head, yet. "You are great!", she finally managed to say. "I am so glad I ran into you, yesterday." She did not expect an answer. I looked at the marks my lipstick had left on her. "Now take off this teddy and slip back into your red top and the black short skirt, I quite like that outfit. I will go and get some clothes for you for tomorrow. But I don't want you to wear them any time sooner!"

She left the room, and I slowly took off the teddy and slipped back into the skirt and the top. I went to the full body mirror in the room, and re-arranged my wig. My make-up was slutty, but I did not dare to ask her for a shower here. I knew the answer. Fruitlessly I pulled at the seam of my fishnet stockings to make them go under the skirt and hide the garters. I pulled down the skirt, too, but that was no good, either. I looked like the ultimate slut, and Dom expected me to go over to my flat like that. Fortunately it was dark by now, but the streetlights were merciless. I was just getting ready to put on my slippers, when she came back into the room. "Oh no, sweetie, these slippers don't match your outfit. Take the high heels!" She was right, of course. She gave me a bag with a shirt and some pants, neatly folded, and shoes. "Thanks, Dom, but where is the underwear?" "Underneath, you will wear the same as this morning." I understood. "And when you come home tomorrow I want you to put on some decent clothes, you hear?" I did.

I left her apartment dressed like I was, the butt-plug still deep inside of me. No sunglasses this time. She had given me back my apartment keys and carkeys. She did not need them anymore to control me. She had kept the spare-key for my flat, though, like good neighbours do. I took a few steps outside and felt like the slut I probably was. Did I really suck this dildo? Did I really lick her out? She had made it sound just natural, but now this whole day seemed unreal. Maybe I was dreaming and would wake up, soon. I thought about the hints she had made about my future, and I still did not believe her. Surely she just wanted to intimidate me and probably got a kick out of that. I crossed the walkway that went by my apartment. The same guy as this morning went by, giving me extremely interested looks. He clearly thought I was a prostitute, and made to talk to me. I decided to simply ignore him and went straight for my apartment. Just before I went to open the door, I changed my mind and walked up the stairs to give him the impression I lived in the flat above my own. It worked. He walked on, looking over his shoulder several times. I waited in front of the door upstairs, until he had vanished around the corner, and silently made it down the stairs again, quickly opened my front door and stepped in. I still needed to figure out, how to get rid of that butt-plug.

What a day!

  

  

  

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