Joanna
- 2 years ago
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Joanna free porn video
Joanna.
In my last story, I told you how I came to live with Gordon. It is now
six weeks later and I have taken to my new life like a mouse finding a
hole in the skirting. At first, I thought Gordon was just a kind man
satisfying his fetish for a transwoman, but as the weeks went on I
found myself just waiting for his car to scrunch on the gravel, telling
me that he was home.
He liked me to always be in a dress and fully made up, wearing heels.
That suited me. Not only was it what I wanted, but Gordon made sure
that I always had lovely things to wear. No woman could have been more
spoiled. My dresses were not designer, but they were good quality. He
wanted me to go to a professional beauty salon for the whole works,
nails, body scrub and massage, waxing and hair. Of course, this would
mean revealing to the salon that I was a pre-operative transsexual.
Whereas before I had enjoyed revealing that I was a sissy boy and
taking the humiliation, it was now something I did not want to do.
I looked in the phone book for local salons, and eventually found one
in Bolton that sounded ideal. Trudi's did everything and more,
including make up lessons and permanent makeup. I phoned and asked to
speak to Trudi. I found she was not in, but would be in on Wednesday
the day after tomorrow. I made an appointment. I phoned Gordon, asking
how I could get to Bolton?
No problem he told me. His company had an old company car ready to go
to auction. Instead he would have it driven home for my use.
That afternoon the car turned up. It was I found, a Mercedes A class,
and I was well pleased. Like Gordon's it was silver and it had most of
the add ons including self parking mirrors. I was overwhelmed by
Gordon's generosity.
Using the built in sat nav I found Trudi's. It was a double fronted
shop in an old cottage type building in the more upmarket part of town.
I was asked to sit while Trudi finished with her customer, rehearsing
what I was to say, and hoping also that I would not have to speak in
the presence of the receptionist.
Trudi appeared with her departing customer. They spoke as if they were
old friends and the customer made a future appointment. Trudi spoke
grammatically with a Southern accent. She was quite small, I suppose 5
feet 3 and slim, with delicate arms. She was blonde and pretty with the
minimum of makeup. Her hair was pulled back and caught up into a comb.
I liked the look of her.
Turning to me after the customer had made her lengthy goodbyes, she
said. "Would you like to come with me to the treatment room, then we
can plan what to do with you."
We sat in wicker chairs and the receptionist brought coffee, milk and
sugar and two cups with saucers. It was all very lady like.
"What can I do for you?" She asked.
"My boy friend wants me to have the whole works. I'm a transsexual." I
blurted the word out, and could feel myself turning bright red.
Trudi looked at me with a concerned look on her face. "We don't really
do the sort of work you probably want, I mean we don't treat men. I'm
sorry."
"I'm having a sex change, and I really need to get rid of my facial and
other hair, as well as all the other things, body scrub, facial,
manicure and pedicure. I don't know where I can go. Do you know of
anywhere." I was near tears.
"Well. Let me have a look at you. Would you mind stripping to your bra
and pants?"
My face was hot and my vision blurred as I fiddled with zips and
buttons behind the screen. Trudi handed me a gown over the partition. I
emerged.
"Would you lie down on the treatment bed please."
I lay down.
"Look you have to trust me," she said, "you cannot be embarrassed in
front of me, otherwise it will just not work. You know it is a
relationship, intimate, but not sexual. Lying here you will tell me
things that you never imagined you could, most ladies do, but they go
no further. Now I am going to open your gown and I will be touching
your body."
I closed my eyes as she opened the gown.
"When did you last shave?"
I mumbled miserably, "This morning."
"And how strong is the growth?"
"Not very strong and sort of reddish." God this really was humiliating.
"We can get rid of it, but it will take many appointments. What about
body hair? You have removed it all with something."
"I used a cream."
"Do you want to carry on doing that or do you want permanent removal?"
"I want it all gone, permanently. It's a constant reminder of who I
used to be."
"I would use a mixture of depilation, that's where we insert a needle
in the hair shaft and give it a tiny shock. Each hair takes several
attempts and there are many hairs. You also have to let some grow
otherwise we cannot find them. The other method we would use is laser,
quicker, more expensive initially, but again you have to let them grow
so they are visible. So you would have to leave a patch for me to
treat, and instead of shaving, I will teach you how to hot wax. That
pulls the hair out of the shaft but leaves the root, so it will re-
grow, but each removal that way weakens it. Other wise, there is
nothing to do that women do not do, so whether it is nails or facial it
is no trouble. The cost is the real problem and I cannot tell you a
price. Roll over on to your front."
I felt her feeling my back. "You have no back hair, do you? No, except
some bumb fluff which we will wax. Would you dress.please."
I dressed behind the screen.
She sat me down again when I reappeared. "You have been very brave and
honest, so I will treat you. You have a bit of hair on your inner
thigh. I am going to quickly remove that with wax, then you will see
how it is done. No more shaving. She wheeled over the wax as I exposed
my left thigh. Deftly she powdered my skin, then spread the hot wax on
the spot in strips with a wooden spoon. She pressed it down with the
heel of her hand, then ripped it against the lay of the hairs. She
examined the wax for signs of the hairs.
"Quite dark. That's a good thing, because the laser attacks dark hair
best. Don't feel too embarrassed, lots of women are quite hairy and we
have seen everything. So go to a good large chemist and pick up a
container of wax from where all the rest of the hair removal stuff is.
Follow the instructions, but you have to have enough growth for the wax
to grip the hair. Then you have to leave patches which we can epilate
with the laser or needle.
"We can do other things like eyelash and eyebrow shaping and tinting,
pedicure and manicure, facials etc, when ever you want. We will make a
series of appointments, starting next week. I suggest to start with,
leave your sideburns and I will laser one side and depilate the other,
to see which one you can stand and which works best."
"Thank you Trudi, I'm so grateful and thank you for being so nice."
"Just one thing" she said, "I won't be able to do all the work, so my
staff will know, but they are all lovely girls."
We made a list of appointments and I shook her hand. If only I were
like her. She was so lovely.
I met Gordon for lunch. I told him all about it, but surprisingly, he
did not seem to understand what a big deal it had been for me. For the
first time I was disappointed in him.
I went home in my car. Just loved driving it as a woman and I was
surprised to find some male drivers were quite chivalrous towards a
woman driver, allowing me to join traffic from a side road etc.
At home I just did what I usually did, took care of the house, did the
washing and a bit of light weeding. I was also cooking, learning new
recipes to interest Gordon. In my flat, before Gordon, my cooking had
been pretty basic, but now I was really making an effort and I was
making progress. Gordon liked my cooking.
I started my twice weekly appointments and waxed my face twice a week.
Gradually my facial hair softened with the waxing and Trudi and her
staff worked away with laser and needle. It was painful but bearable.
After nearly six months, I was just about hairless.
Two months after I came to live with dear Gordon, I phoned home to say
that I had something to tell them. I asked if all of them could be
there, that is my father and mother and brother Freddie and sister
Josephine. Mother asked what it was about and I said that I was now
living as a woman.
I dressed carefully, in my red silk shirtwaister and did not use too
much makeup. I wanted to appear wholesome rather than sexy. Gordon said
it was something I had to do on my own and although I would have liked
to have his strength behind me, I too did not want the complication of
a relationship to explain.
Mother opened the door, tearfully, clasped me to her bosom and said how
well I looked. Father, sort of giggled and said I made a good woman.
Freddie stayed distant but Josephine said she liked my dress and could
she have it when I was tired of it. "I like you better as a sister,"
she said simply.
It was a difficult evening, so many questions that I did not want to
answer. In reply to where I was living, I said with a friend in
Yorkshire and then it was man or woman and the relationship. I just
said it was a friend and I was a lodger. Then it was what was I doing
for work, then when I said nothing, was I going to get a job. When I am
ready I said.
Home was now two hundred miles away. They wanted me to stay the night
but I said perhaps next time, when they had had time to get used to the
idea. Finally I was able to escape and back in my car and round the
corner, ridiculously I burst into tears. I drove home without stopping
and turned into the drive at one am. I let myself in and after cleaning
off the makeup, collapsed into bed.
I had been with Gordon three months. That evening we researched sex
change surgeons on the internet. The clinic in Thailand seemed a safe
place to go. We emailed and then following that had a long conversation
with the surgeon by phone. We estimated when my hair removal would be
complete in three or four months, so booked the surgery. I could not
wait.
Gordon always phoned me twice in the day from his office, wanting to
know what I was doing. In truth, I gathered that it did not matter what
I was doing, I could be watching daytime or gardening or still in bed,
he just wanted to know I was alright and safe. It was sweet.
At last the time came for us to drive to Heathrow for the flight to
Bangkok. We flew Business and were glad to have the reclining beds and
superior food. It was lovely to be properly waited on with unlimited
champagne.
In Bangkok, a taxi whisked us noisily to the clinic, using the horn on
every possible occasion. I was blood tested and had my heart monitored
and other tests. I doctor inserted his finger into my rectum to check
that my prostate was normal. I asked them to remove it anyway, but they
said they only did that if there was sign of disease, unlikely in the
case of someone not yet thirty.
That night we stayed in the hotel and went to bed early. Tomorrow was
the big day.
The alarm woke us at six and by seven thirty we were at the clinic. At
ten I was on a trolley heading for the theatre. The last thing I
remembered was people in green, green masks, my legs lifted into the
stirrups.
I woke up in my room, a nurse sitting by the bedside. She immediately
asked me my name and did I know where I was. I answered and drifted
back to sleep. When I next woke, I stayed awake. I was alone with a
drip by my side going into a canula in my hand. I felt my abdomen and
found I was swathed in bandages, with a pipe running into a bottle by
the bedside. I dearly wanted to see what they had done. I went to sleep
again. I awoke to find Gordon sitting by the bed.
He asked how I was and I said I felt fine. I was pain free, a little
uncomfortable, but that was all. He had brought magazines and flowers
and chocolates. I drifted off to sleep and when I next awoke he had
gone.
A nurse brought me breakfast, just a little fruit and told me I had to
drink lots of water. Later she got me out of bed and took me to the
bathroom so I could wash my face and put on some makeup. I felt fine.
Next day I was in surgery again, this time under a local and they made
a small incision in my larynx and adjusted my vocal chords so that my
voice range was higher. I was told not to shout or sing, not to talk
much at all for three days.
Gordon called and stayed for an hour. I said I was sleepy and he went.
It was a white lie, I just felt unable to have a desultory conversation
when I was not supposed to speak. I got myself out of bed and carrying
my bottle of urine, stood before the mirror in the bathroom and raised
my nightie. My figure had improved, for they had removed my lower ribs
when they did the sex change. I loved the new me.
After five days they removed the bandages, then they had to take out
the stitches in the labia and the pack which kept my vagina in place. A
nurse showed me how to use a dilator with some lubricant to stop it
returning to normal. The catheter was removed and I was surprised to
find I could pee. My groin was completely hairless, the hair having
been removed before surgery and I could examine myself with the aid of
a hand mirror, then looked at my completely nude body in the wardrobe
mirror.
I was in love with my body. I looked at myself from every possible
angle, posed, pouted, wiggled my bum, relaxed one hip in a model pose.
That did hurt a bit. A nurse walked in and caught me. She giggled and
said what a good body I now had and did I like what they had done? I
love it, I told her and she took my hand and patted my back. "Now you
get dressed, go hotel," she said. Gordon collected me in a taxi. I felt
well enough to take a little walk in the city, but was soon exhausted
and we went to the hotel and relaxed by the pool. I wore a bikini for
the first time and attracted a good many stares. At first Gordon was
proud of the glances I got from men, but later asked me to put on a
chiffon robe. He didn't want me to damage my skin in the sun he said.
Each day I felt stronger and I was enormously happy with my new body.
My voice was a little hoarse but after a few days recovered and I found
it was more feminine, but still husky. Gordon said it was very sexy and
I didn't need to affect it. I said I wasn't.
After a post op examination, we were free to go home. The journey home
was wonderful in my new body. I travelled in a suit I had made in
Bangkok that fitted my more waspie waistline, grey silk, pencil skirt,
little peplum jacket and a string of lovely pearls about my neck. A
young girl asked if I was a film star? It was a great compliment.
Gordon was quite silent on the way home, holding tight to my hand most
of the time and I wondered whether he was sickening for something. I
slept for most of the drive north to our home.
The next day we spent at home, until the afternoon, then he said we
were going out and it was a surprise. We went to the animal rescue
centre and he asked me to pick an animal as a pet.
I looked at all the cats and dogs. Eventually I settled on a black
Labrador puppy and a tortoiseshell cat. We arranged to pick them up in
two days time.
When we returned to the house, I found my car had gone. Brian told me
that it was now too old and he would see about getting another.
The next day he produced a leather and metal contraption and asked me
to put it on. I realised it was a chastity belt. I asked if this was a
game? Of course he said, and he locked me into it.
"Now you have what you want," he said, "I can't trust you to stay with
me. If you left me, I don't know what I would do."
"This is silly. Why would I leave the man who has made me and given me
so much?"
"You don't love me. When you were in the hospital you didn't want to
talk to me. I don't know how you could be so ungrateful. I hoped giving
you your freedom would be OK, but you are like all the other women now,
just out for what you can get."
I could not believe he was saying this. "Darling," I said, "why would I
leave you. I do love you, I will always be grateful too, but I stay
with you because I love our life together."
"I have made you too pretty, too femme, every man now looks at you and
wants you."
"It doesn't mean that I want them," I said.
"You will. As soon as you are fully recovered and able to have sex,
you'll be off. That's what women do, bleed you dry then take off."
"I'm not going to talk to you while you are like this. Now take this
ridiculous contraption off and we'll talk in the morning." But he would
not. I went to bed alone and slept uncomfortably in the belt. I awoke
early, hearing him on the move and lay there frightened. When he had
gone, I put on a negligee and went down stairs. There was a card lying
on the kitchen table. I read what he had written. "If you ever left me,
I would find you and kill you." His words chilled my blood. I realised
now that he had done everything for me out of love, but all along he
had really wanted a transwoman who he could control, and one who was
probably pre op and unlikely to have an affair.
I examined the belt. There was no doubt I could get it off, but not
without his knowing. Over the next few months he seemed to revive,
showing me much more affection, generous to a fault, gentlemanly. He
allowed me out of the belt when he was home, so that I could bathe and
use the dilator. We started sleeping together again and had sex usually
two or three times a week. I began to feel that we would overcome his
insecurity and return to normal. Eventually I protested at the
imprisonment in the belt that occurred very time he went out. He
slapped my face twice, said I was ungrateful, a slut waiting to have
other men. I fell to the floor and that probably saved me from further
punishment.
After that lesson, I protested no more. I became the submissive wife. I
petted the cat, walked the dog, did a bit of gardening and looked after
the house. I was never provided with another car. Gordon still showered
gifts upon me, bracelets and necklaces, a couple of rings, all
expensive because he wanted me to look good, while at the same time
ever watchful for male interest in me. I lost my jokey ways with people
and had an aloof air which discouraged over enthusiastic interest.
Whenever I was on my own, he made me wear the belt. He bought others
and made me try them out. I submitted.
Inside I smouldered, trying to find a way out. At the beginning I
thought he would get through this faze. Now I doubted he ever would and
he had struck me. It was hard to forgive. In the meantime, I decided to
be the perfect little woman.
One evening I plucked up courage to say, "Darling, mother was asking
whether we were going to get married. I said it was up to you. But
should we? I mean marriage is so permanent, it would be lovely to feel
secure."
"You are secure, aren't you? You have everything you could want. I know
I'm a bit jealous, but that's because I love you so much."
"I know dear. And I love you. It doesn't matter, whatever you say is
OK." I gave him my best smile.
A week later and he decided that it would be a good idea, a quiet
affair, just the two of us and some witnesses off the street in the
Settle Registry Office, then off for a honeymoon in St.Lucia. It
sounded ideal.
Three weeks later we were married. I did not have the white dress or
the bridesmaids, but at least we were married. The next day we flew to
St.Lucia, an all inclusive five star hotel and at least we had the
honeymoon suite. That meant we had free champagne in the room. We made
love for a whole afternoon. We lazed by the pool, and tried the sports,
tennis, golf and waterskiing. The second week we took one of the hire
cars and explored the island. At one point he stood very close to the
top of a cliff and I just wondered whether......................I could
not. I did not hate him enough to give him a push.
That evening, while having drinks before dinner, we were joined by an
American couple. Carl was a jokey type and soon started pulling my leg
over my accent, asking whether I was related to the Queen and did I
know her? Very silly. His partner said, "Don't take any notice of him
honey, he's always fooling about."
We all went in to dinner and I noticed Gordon grew very silent, just
drinking more and more and fixing Carl with a stare. As soon as we
could, Gordon lead the way to our suite, holding tight to my arm.
Inside the room he said, "On our honeymoon, and you had to flirt with
that idiot."
"I didn't," I protested, "I was just trying to be affable."
"Don't argue with me, I gave you everything. If I had a belt here I
would give you a good whipping and put you in it." He opened a drawer
and took out my best bikini and tore it in two with his bare hands.
"Slut, a pity I ever met you. You are not the one." Terrified I went to
the bathroom and ran the bath. I realised that he was very drunk, I
just needed to get away from him. When I came out of the bath, he was
still drinking. He had gone into a whimpering decline of drunkenness. I
put on a full length kimono and asked him to come and watch the last
rays of the sun from our veranda. At first he did not move, then he
came unsteadily out with a disinterested air, befuddled with alcohol.
He stumbled to wards the railing and his bare foot slipped on some
after sun cream I had dropped on the tiles and before I could do
anything, his weight took him over the bar and he hurtled the five
floors to the ground. I screamed. I saw people running to the still
body. I ran to the lift and out on the ground floor. A hotel manager
grabbed me and stopped my progress. "He's dead, there is nothing you
can do. We have to send for the police. I take you back to your room."
I sat on the bed, wondering whether to do anything about the sun cream.
Should I mop it up or leave it? Did it matter? In the end I place the
bottle on its side near the spill.
There was a knock on the door and a police officer entered. He was very
sympathetic. He looked at the veranda, asked how I was, then locked the
veranda door and took the key. He asked me to go to the police station
tomorrow to make a statement.
I was left to myself. Gordon was no more. I never thought I would be
relieved by that, but I was. Life had become too uncertain, too
restricted and too dangerous. When they measured his blood alcohol it
was over two hundred. They pronounced it a tragic accident. I hads to
remain for the Coroners Court, but they came to the same conclusion. No
mention was made of the after sun cream at all. As far as they were
concerned Gordon had been too drunk.
I returned home a widow.
Mhairi
- 30.09.2021
- 12
- 0
