“You are now Paulette, and will be referred to only by that name.”

I was in the dressing room of Realmstone, a Femme Domme club in Anaheim, California where Mistress Colleen holds court. Her assistant had just led me to the room and was giving me instructions prior to my first meeting with the Mistress. I was nervous; I had served professional Dommes before as a male sub, but on this occasion I wanted to explore something. new. In an exchange of emails with Mistress Colleen, I had confessed a growing impulse to put on female clothes, to express the femininity I felt welling up inside. She assured me she was skilled at handling those sorts of desires and I knew she was well known for this.

After waiting alone on my knees naked as instructed, the door opened and Mistress Colleen appeared with a riding crop. She was awesome with her flaming red hair, beautiful face, luscious breasts just barely contained in a black pvc top and matching skirt, revealing shapely legs whose beautiful feet slipped into a pair of five inch black heels. She frowned and walked over to inspect me.

She frowned and walked over to inspect me. She ran the crop teasingly along my shoulders and back, then abruptly whacked my cock with it. The pain was intense.

“What’s a girl like you doing with a thing like this?”

I mumbled an apology, which earned another whack, this one harder. You’re a sorry excuse for a bitch. I never want to see you like this again.

She ordered me to stand, and directed my attention to a chair near the makeup table, which had lingerie laid out on it.

“Put on the stockings, bitch.”

I hesitated. Was I really ready for this? I’d long yearned for a walk on the wild side, but felt sudden fear of realizing the fantasy.

Mistress Colleen decided the issue. She whipped my ass with the crop and all but pushed me down into a nearby chair, then picked up a black stocking and threw it at me.

“Now, bitch, or your ass gets beaten and you do it anyway.”

I pulled it on over my leg, and immediately gasped as the soft nylon swept over my skin. With a stern voice, a frown, and a ready crop, she forced me to put on the rest of the outfit; garter, panties, bra, and with each item I felt a rush of sweet femininity wash over me.

“You’re going to make a very good woman,” she told me.

“Yes, Mistress,” I replied.

She slapped me. “Get rid of that low voice!” she said. She forced me to speak at a higher and higher pitch till the bass was gone and I was totally femme.

“I never want to hear that male voice again, understood bitch”
“Yes, Mistress,” I sniffled.

I was already quite high from the lingerie alone, but the humiliation of speaking in the femme voice pushed me higher still.

She next helped me with makeup, guiding me on applying base, blush, lipstick, eye shadow. I watched in the mirror as the transformation took place. Waves of still more feminine intoxication passed over me as I witnessed my old persona disappear a little at a time and Paulette take its place. I was high as a kite.

At last, in 4″ black heels and wearing a beautiful flaming red wig, Mistress Colleen had me stand in front of the mirror. I was blown away. My old self was gone and there looking back at me was a gorgeous redhead with perfect glowing skin, jewels for eyes, shapely legs and fuck me red lips. I blinked my richly mascara laden eyelashes at myself several times in disbelief but the woman in the mirror blinked back at me and I knew for sure it was true that the woman in the mirror was me. Mistress Colleen had pulled off a miracle.

She inspected me and whipped me once for a twisted garter, which I quickly fixed, then nodded approval and ordered me out into the sanctuary.

“And wiggle that ass!” she said. “Walk like a woman!”

I did so; the flowing movements seemed to come easy to me. Once in the sanctuary, she ordered me onto a padded sawhorse; I mounted it on hands and knees, quite exposed and vulnerable. She told me my journey into womanhood had just begun, and that she would be there all along the way to guide me. She said she could tell by our brief conversations before I’d arrived, and by my reaction to cross-dressing, that I was a natural, predisposed emotionally to yearn for femme side, and gifted with a body that lent itself to a persuasive transformation.

She told me to open my mouth, and quickly shoved a cock-gag into it and fastened it around my head. Again she seemed to read me perfectly. I’d only made passing reference to bisexual fantasies to her before our session, but my transformation into a woman had set them on fire.

You like having a cock in your mouth, don’t you, bitch?

I nodded emphatically and mumbled.

You have to earn the real thing, she said. The first step on your long road into womanhood  is perfect subservience to me. In the mirror I could see her retrieve a single-tail bullwhip from the cabinet. She ran it teasingly along my legs and ass, and told me I had to beg for cock.

I mumbled through the gag. She responded with the whip, and scolded me about keeping my voice high and not mumbling. I desperately tried to fulfill her request; in response, she started whipping me in earnest. She was an expert, landing each lash with precision. I twisted and turned to no avail. With each stroke she scolded me to beg in a sweeter more feminine voice; each stroke brought the shock of both raw pain and delicious pleasure.

At last, with my ass hot with pain, my body sweating and trembling and on fire with exploding female sexual energy, she relented and ordered me off the horse.

I stumbled uncertainly from my perch; the room was spinning. She laughed at my plight, then ordered me to lie on my back on the nearby table. As soon as I did so, she lifted my legs and secured them with cuffs to two chains hanging from the ceiling. She pulled my legs up high and spread far apart, then abruptly opened the snaps of my teddy and yanked aside my panties, leaving my ass-pussy quite exposed.

“You begged so nicely I think your prayers may be answered, Paulette.”

I nodded. My heart was pounding. She disappeared from view for a moment, then returned to the sanctuary, guiding a blindfolded guy. He was slender, well-built and clean cut, and the type that might turn my head casually during an ordinary day, but in this context with my body on fire with feminine arousal I thought he was gorgeous. He was also wonderfully hung and clearly as aroused as I was.

“Paulette, this is Randy, Randy, Paulette.”

We managed to exchange greetings, though he couldn’t see and I couldn’t talk.

Mistress Colleen smiled.

“You ready for this, Paulette?”

I nodded emphatically. I could not believe how quickly Mistress Colleen had so completely transformed me into a cock-craving slut.
(an experience available to those who are lucky and who call her directly at 714-901-9771, or visit her website at www.Mistress Colleen.com-the means by which I first came across this beautiful, skillful Goddess).

I held my breath. Suddenly I felt lube applied generously to my ass-pussy, and soon after that felt Randy put his hands on my legs, and felt his cock touch my ass-pussy.

“Fuck her, Randy, fuck her good,” Mistress Colleen said.

He began to thrust and I moved my pelvis to try to help him. Quickly he thrust inside me; at first it hurt so much I thought I would split open. But soon enough I relaxed, and the initial pain morphed into gooey delicious pleasure. He grunted and groaned; I gasped; Mistress Colleen admonished me to gasp in a femme voice; I did my best, though the room was a blur as he took me deeper and harder.

At last Mistress Colleen gave him permission to come, and Randy and I were locked in an incredibly intense dance of orgasm. He finally slowed and then stopped. Mistress Colleen ordered him away, then unfastened my bonds and gave me a few moments to catch my breath and come down from the intense high.

She told me I had done very well on my first time, and that we would have many adventures and explorations together. I have been with her ever since, and she has led me ever more deeply into my feminine side.

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