Domination

 

                I had always wanted life to play out like a book or a movie. Go to school and college as a kid, develop a career as an adult with the help of a supporting family, and maybe find love along the way. No one told me that you had to be lucky to roll into this kind of life, or that reality was just a never-ending torrent of bullshit for most of us.

                I’m turning 29 this year and still haven’t had a consistent job since no one told me that my undergrad liberal arts degree would be as useful as a sheet of printer paper. I’ve gotten some decent gigs here and there, but most of my days were delegated to working 10-12 hours a day at a criminally underpaying reception job at my parent’s salon. This wasn’t even my choice; I was strong-armed into it when they became fed up with my inability to find ‘real’ work…

                On the bright side, I did have a pretty solid group of friends. Without them, I honestly don’t think I’d have the willpower to keep going. Most of them were online, so we played games together most nights. I even got into streaming on Twitch, been doing that for about three years now and…still average under ten viewers per stream…but, I’m trying my best. The streams are a good way to bring us together to play some stuff we wouldn’t otherwise. Back in October, I thought it’d be fun to try out the old indie game Hollow Knight with my best friend Rowan co-commentating for a Halloween stream. I was committed to finishing the game through playing it once a week with him, and now it’s summer…it’s a much longer game than I thought it’d be.

                One Saturday night, as I was preparing the Hollow Knight stream, Rowan asked me if he could sit this one out. He had been expressing some frustration with the pace of the game and how it wasn’t possible to commentate for hours on me backtracking and grinding. “We’re so close to the end though, I’ll get there ASAP!” I would say, stubborn to keep these streams consistent with him. This going on for weeks did begin to grate on our friendship. I think that I was subconsciously afraid to let something go before finishing it in just the way I wanted, even if it wasn’t really serving me to begin with.

                Since Rowan was such a good friend, he rolled with the punches, but I could tell he was distracted doing other things on his computer. After finishing the stream that night with a whopping max of three viewers, I sighed and fell backwards onto my bed to briefly silence my thoughts. I looked around my small room that was still filled with boxes. I had been living alone in an apartment that I couldn’t afford for a few months – a brilliant idea of my dad’s – and was expecting to get kicked out after another few passed. Due to this, I didn’t even bother unpacking most of my stuff, what was the point? What was the point of anything I was doing?

                A few days later, I got a package in the mail from my aunt, one of the few family members I had that actually supported me. It had two thick sparkly candles shaped like a 2 and a 9 for my birthday with a card that read “Happy Birthday Franky! We love you so much. I have a feeling this will be your best birthday yet! Your mom left your cake in the apartment lobby. Be sure to light these candles and a make a really great wish! Think big! – xoxo Auntie Shirley.”

                “Aww, she remembered,” I smiled to myself, expecting my birthday to have gone by like any other day. I picked up the small chocolate and vanilla cake, then put the candles in, even though it felt a little silly since I was the only one here. I thought about what to wish for as I lit them. Taking a deep breath, “I wish…I could take control of my life again.” I blew out the candles as hard as I could, oblivious to their lingering vapors that surrounded me as I ate the cake in one sitting. “Mmm, so good. Might be the best cake I’ve ever had.” I patted my belly, cleaned up, and went to go play games into the rest of the night, satisfied to have broken the streak of dismal days I’d been having.

                Falling asleep that night proved to be difficult. I found myself sweating, and my stomach ached like no tomorrow. The obvious conclusion was that it was humid and that the cake wasn’t sitting right with me, so I tossed and turned for about an hour hoping to get over it. “God…” I groaned with a mattress slap, eventually becoming frustrated with how little sleep I was getting. I felt like I was sweating even more now, and my T-shirt was getting soaked. Another long hour passed, and my skin felt like it was sizzling and constricting.

                This is too much, I thought, finally deciding to get up to see if I could do anything about this. My heart began to race as soon as I stood up. With weight being put into my feet, two startling cracks erupted from my waist and shoulders, sending me stumbling sideways onto my floor. “Ow! Ow…! Oohg,” I panted in pain, powerless to stop my shoulders from rounding and crunching closer together. I had to twist my body to vomit away from myself as I felt the fat in my budding beer belly flipping and folding itself like clay in an artist’s hands. Without my eyes being adjusted to the dark yet, my brain didn’t know how to rationalize the alien sensation of my broadening pelvis or the fat and tissue being squeezed into my ass and thighs.

                I yelled in fear as if I were being attacked, kicking my legs as much as I could in my awkward position. My knees suddenly locked up as they flattened and reshaped to fit my shortening calves that I could barely make the outlines of. I clutched my chest, feeling the flesh across my whole torso ripple and undulate as if it were going to melt off. Running out of energy, I fell onto my back, feeling more wobbles within my pecs. God, oh God, what’s happening to me?!

                My stomach tightened with a pinched waist as a faint snap echoed from within my chest cavity. I barely held back another barf as I felt fluffy feminine fat shaping my chest, collarbone, and upper arms. I never had much of anything to show for in bicep strength, but my arms looked much stronger despite having little definition as they shrunk to fit my painfully compressing frame.  With my head resting on the floor, lacking the energy to crane up, tears welled in my eyes as I briefly lost feeling in the arms that fell limply to my sides. Every little knuckle and joint popped up through my arms as they feminized with slimming, outstretched fingers. My chewed, blocky nails grew into tiny ellipses as my body hair began to thin and fall out.

                I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe…! Every little breath became its own hurdle. The growing weight on my chest felt like it was going to crush me, and my lips and nose kept trembling as they were subtly tweaked and pulled. When I felt my own skull begin to change, I couldn’t even make a sound. My lifeless eyes rolled into the back of my head. I could feel every little grind and scrape my jaw made against my temporal bone, and all of my teeth felt like they’d fall out as they rearranged themselves to fit a smaller mouth. The pressure against my neck, coming from my Adam’s apple shrinking and melding down into my neck, faded me in and out of consciousness. The thinning hair on my head thickened as it began to grow and sprawl all over the floor.

My eyes refocused on whatever they could as feeling slowly returned to my face. It took me a few minutes to properly clench my teeth. Turning my body to the small degree that I could made me feel like a dying whale, even though I had become much smaller overall. Mustering all of my energy to pull my head up through the weight of my hair, I noticed lumpy outlines through my shirt. I wanted to stand, but I ended laying my head back down to fall half-asleep. The area in between my thick thighs had become so warm that I never noticed my genitals fusing and diminishing together. My balls and scrotum had become this unidentifiable mass that inverted into my body, while my tiny cock became small enough to hide within the developing folds. As tension slowly rose from my body like clouds of steam, I ended up falling asleep on the floor before I could figure out what had happened to me.

With a groggy groan, I rolled over as I woke up the next morning, unexpectedly smooshing breasts against the floor and messily wrapping long hair around my head.  Ow…what happened last night? The weight of my breasts hanging down as I lifted myself up scared me, forcing me to twist back and fall onto my ass as I screamed with a shrill voice, thinking something was on me. I pulled my shirt up and squeezed my girls, noticing how dainty my hands had become in the process. These are-I look like a-what the fuck?!? I frantically patted my body down with a speeding mind, unable to recognize any part of myself. “EEEEK!” I shrieked again, feeling my womanhood in between my legs. “I’m a…I’m a girl!”

I stared at my reflection in the mirror for what felt like an eternity, moving and touching my face in disbelief. “How did this happen…what do I do?” I kept repeating in a deadpan tone. I paced around the apartment naked for a while, thinking while getting used to my new center of gravity. My pounding heart never seemed to calm down. After hours had passed, I still couldn’t begin to think of how this had happened or what to do about it. I had been so preoccupied with my situation that I hadn’t noticed my dad blowing up my phone asking why I wasn’t at work. Should I tell him? He wouldn’t believe me…

“God damn it…” I groaned, feeling my brain begin to fry from all of my mental gymnastics. I flopped onto the couch, hoping to get myself to relax a little. My hands had been wandering around my body since I’d woken up, but I hadn’t given myself a slow, peaceful moment to explore my new lady parts. Truthfully, I had never gotten a woman naked before and was close to giving up on having the chance altogether. Maybe this can help me relax… I fluttered my half-closed eyes as I gently touched myself. My mind was still too shaken to get anywhere near a climax, but I enjoyed experiencing some new sensations.

Later into the afternoon, I caved and called my aunt, needing someone to confide with. I frantically tried to prove my identity to her, but she believed me as soon as I told her I was Franky. “Did you wish for this?” she asked. “Wish? No! I didn’t make any wishes! I mean…I did for my birthday, but not for this! I wished that I could t-” “No no no,” she interrupted, “don’t tell me what you wished for. As long as you made a birthday wish yesterday, I believe that you are exactly where you are supposed to be right now, my little nephew. Or should I say niece?” “Not funny!” I said over her laughter. My aunt continued: “Anyway, I’ll get your mom and dad off your back for awhile as you figure yourself out. I’ll think of some good story. You make sure you do your best too, okay dear?” “Thanks Auntie Shirley… I love you.” “I love you too, dear.”

I sighed with a breath of relief, thankful to have one confidant after having grown up with crazy parents. Figure myself out… I kept thinking, still unsure of what to do. Needing some comfort, I spent the rest of the night eating and watching YouTube, putting the idea off for tomorrow. The next morning, I had a long and thoughtful moment in the mirror again. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be…so I’m supposed to be a-a girl?” It still didn’t feel believable after a whole day had passed. As I continued to think about it, my reflection formed a grin. It didn’t feel like a bad thing, and I did find myself quite pretty. “I’ll do my best, auntie,” I told myself. “I’ll do my best for you…”

Still parading around naked, the first thing I needed was obvious – fitting clothing. I called my aunt to ask her for advice as I drove to the mall, and she was more than happy to pay for anything I needed. I wished she could’ve been here in person, because getting my body measurements alone felt extremely awkward and made me feel like an imposter. Nevertheless, I ended up walking away with hundreds of dollars of lovely fitting clothing and underwear. “This is so unreal,” I kept laughing to myself in the mirror as I posed with different outfits. Ooo, this one makes me look really cute…!

Although I was opposed to the idea, my aunt recommended that I start learning how to do makeup. “I’m not going to force you,” she said, “but I think you’ll feel a lot better about yourself if you give it a chance.” I had to FaceTime with her the next day, as there were way too options of things to buy in that department for me to figure out what was good. Shirley’s right, I thought to myself later that day as I practiced in the mirror, if I’m going to be a woman, I should be open-minded to these things. Not like I was super masculine before, anyway. This is exactly where I’m supposed to be…right?

As I delved into the world of femininity the next few days, there was still one burning question that needed to be answered. “Shirley…who am I? What’s my name? I-I’m a woman, but I can’t, like, use my ID for anything, can I? What about my college degree?” Unfortunately for me, Shirley had no answer to this. She could only assure me that everything was going to be okay as long as I kept pushing myself and going forward, whatever that meant. However, I did insist that I wanted her to name me. After a moment of thought, she named me Taylor. Later that evening, I smiled to myself in the mirror, repeating phrases like “My name is Taylor. Hi, I’m Taylor! I am Taylor, and I am a woman.”

Before I knew it, a week of womanhood had passed, and it still felt as unbelievable as it had on day one. Seeing how differently people treated me in public was fascinating. Men treated me nicely, and women treated me like everyday friends – which felt especially nice as I hadn’t had any success talking to women as a guy. Whether it was shopping at the mall or taking peaceful strolls, I finally began to feel like I was fitting in. Thanks to all of the free time my aunt had bought me, I had been able to learn so much about makeup and feminine care, and I felt comfortable in my appearance and presentation, even though I still took a very long time at home to build it all up.

Even though I had come to enjoy being a woman and looked forward to what the future held, I still had a lot of problems to figure out on top of all this learning. My pitifully low income had ceased, no one besides my aunt knew what had happened to me, and my apartment was still threatening to kick me out within a few months if I didn’t get more money. I took to the internet to scour for ideas. The first thing that came to mind for a job that required no degrees or background checks was sex work, but I didn’t want to go down that route. I racked my brain for days, feeling increasingly bad that my aunt still had to fend off my parents when I was here sitting on my ass. My friends were also messaging me inquiring where I was, and I didn’t feel comfortable responding to them yet, even if I didn’t have to see them in person.

Eventually, I stumbled across the concept of a dominatrix. I almost dismissed it immediately, as I associated it with sex work. But something got me to dig a little deeper. Doms rarely have sexual relations with their subs, I read in my head. Almost like a form of therapy, submission is about letting go…and part of the dom’s duty is to create the experience. I couldn’t ever imagine myself doing anything BDSM-related, but my fascinated mind kept going down the rabbit hole. By the end of the night, I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, and even reached my first female orgasm thinking about how hot it would be to dominate someone while wearing tight leather all without the pressure of actual intercourse. I would be the one in control.

The next day, I reached out to a few dominatrixes in my area for interviews to see if I could pick their minds. Surprisingly, I got a reply from one in the middle of the afternoon who called herself Lady Eve. The more I learned from her, the more determined I was to take a leap of faith and give it a shot for myself. After all, if I could become a woman, what couldn’t I do? Hoping that I wasn’t overstepping, I asked her if I would be able to shadow her during her next appointment. She didn’t reply for a long time which left me disheartened, until later into the evening when she suddenly told me to come to her dungeon.

“You must be Taylor!” Lady Eve exclaimed as I entered the inconspicuous room on the third floor of a plain building. I waved, feeling extremely nervous and self-conscious about my appearance when presented with an actual dominatrix. “I’m sorry I could not get back to you sooner, I had to ask my client about how he felt with your presence.” “Oh don’t even worry about it!” I laughed, “I’m just so happy to be here!” Trying to be as invisible as possible, I stood still in the shadows only taking mental notes about the session. Lady Eve and her sub began the night watching TV with Eve’s arm wrapped around the man’s shoulder. At the first commercial break, she asked him for a drink of water. When the man returned, he kneeled down and acted as Eve’s footstool for the remainder of the show without any cues. They must have a good relationship, I thought. They’re working towards entering the subspace and domspace mindsets…

Once the show was over, things got a little more intense. Eve locked a thick collar around her sub after ordering him to take his shirt off. He crawled on his hands and knees to the room over where he was placed in a mounted medieval rack, standing bent over with his head and hands locked in the device. Then came the gag and paddle spanking – so much spanking. The man’s face was bright red with pain, but Eve assured me that good dominatrixes only perform acts that their clients approve of, and that clients are set up with all kinds of stop signals. She’s not slowing down, so he must really like this…mmmhmhm.

By the end of the night, I was convinced; I wanted to become a dominatrix. I told Lady Eve, and she applauded my enthusiasm, but assured me that it would not be an easy journey. The next day, I told my aunt Shirley what I thought, slightly fearing her reaction. To my surprise, she fully supported me as she always had, and even gave me some money to get me started with props and lessons. “After this, you’re on your own,” she laughed. “Nieces are expensive!” Then, I went back to Lady Eve to inquire about taking lessons from her. My head felt like it was spinning, everything was moving so fast. And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The next month of my life was dedicated to learning from Lady Eve – and dealing with my first utterly miserable period. I practiced using all kinds of toys on dummies, different kinds of therapeutic ways to entrance and care for subs, and strong feminine postures that emphasized a dominant aura. One afternoon, Lady Eve forwarded me one of her first-time clients. “Think you are ready?” the text asked. My hands begun to shake as I typed a reply. Am I going to finally do this? Is this really happening? “I think I am. :)”

Lady Eve was nice enough to let me use her dungeon. I spent hours on my makeup immediately after sending that text, afraid that it’d take me too long to get it just right. Before I drove anywhere, I met my client through a video chat to discuss what he wanted out of the session. My jaw mentally dropped when I saw his face. My first client was going to be my best friend who I hadn’t spoken to since I turned into a woman, Rowan.

“Hello!” I said with a bright smile despite the mental freak-out happening in my brain. “Hi Taylor, how are you?” he meekly asked. I had never seen him with such a weak demeanor before; to me, he had always been a nerdy yet confident guy who wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. We spoke back and forth about what he wanted from tonight, all of which was pretty standard in my very limited experience. In talking to him, I was constantly nearly falling into the trap of speaking to him like a close friend, but I maintained a professional air. If I didn’t come across as dominant, neither of us would reach our desired euphoria.

Then, it was finally time. After speaking with Rowan, I had a good idea of how to set the scene. I entered the dungeon long before he arrived to arrange the kitchen and main room to look like a small yet lavish apartment with a dining table in the main room. On the outside, I wore a long classy coat that fell below my knees. But underneath was a tight leather corset that put my arms, shoulders, and cleavage on full display, complete with high leather boots that rose above my knees. I was constantly checking my makeup until knocks finally hit the door. With a deep breath, it was go-time.

“Hello Rowan,” I cooed, bringing him inside with a brief hug, surprised at how much taller he was than me now. With long, slow steps, the heels of my boots clacked against the tiles of the entrance as I made my way to the dining table in the main room. “Be a dear and get our meals for us, would you?” I asked, having placed some takeout food and wine in the kitchen. We made small talk as we ate, almost talking as if we were strangers on a first date. Everything was going exactly as I had planned based on what he wanted. Once our plates were about half-finished, I decided that it was time for some action.

Looking Rowan dead in the eye with my pursed red lips, I held my arm out with the glass of wine in my hand and dropped it to the floor. “Look what you’ve made me do,” I whined in a sultry voice, then ordered “Clean it up.” Without a word, he kneeled on the floor like a beggar and began lapping the spilled wine with his tongue. I smiled and pushed against his back with my boot. After a few minutes passed, I brought my plate of food down to the floor. “Clean this up, too. I don’t want to see a single crumb left.” My heart was pounding with excitement as I shed my long coat.

Following Lady Eve’s example and Rowan’s list of preferences, I leashed my sub as he finished wiping my plate clean. I told him to sit like a dog while I got a wet towel to clean up his messy face. “You’re such a good boy,” I praised him, leading him to the next room on his hands and knees. I helped Rowan into the rack to bound his head and hands with his body bent forward. I used Eve’s trusty paddle after putting a gag in his mouth and went to town. *Spank!* *Spank!* *Spank!* Rowan was howling in pain through the gag, but he wasn’t giving me any stopping signals. Once I got into a rhythm, I mixed it up with a fake swing, giggling at his preemptive wince before following it up with a heavier *spank!*

Before our session, Rowan told me that he was really into being humiliated by sexy women. As he recovered from our latest spanking flurry, I whispered softly into his ear. “I’m so glad we found each other, baby. You’re such a good pet, you know that?” I grabbed his head by his hair and spit into his red face. “Do you think women would be into your tiny little dick? I bet if I pulled your pants down right now, I wouldn’t be able to see your bulge…” I held his head at eye level with my cleavage, making sure that he could look at my beautiful body without being able to touch it. “If you’d like, you could borrow some of my panties…I’m sure there wouldn’t be a difference down there. What, aren’t you going to answer me?” I laughed at him as he failed to speak through the gag. “Come on, my dear. Cat got your tongue?”

Rowan’s breathing steadied, and his eyes glazed over as rational thoughts were leaving his mind. I was also feeling very hot and turned on from my own performance. Being so sexy and in control, it felt like I had the world at my little manicured fingertips. As we continued into the night, Rowan and I continued to figure out what worked and what didn’t work for us. Rowan liked to reach out a hand for a little innocent leg touch when he was walking on his hands and knees. I immediately shot him down with a kick. I didn’t like being touched unexpectedly, but he didn’t like being kicked, and that was okay. We ended the night with a fun session of him worshipping my boots as I stretched and cooled down.

When I got home later that night, I gave myself a long look in the mirror with a bright smile. Not only had I become a woman, I had become a dominatrix in the span of a little over one month! Although obviously an amateur, that night with Rowan paid me more than a few weeks’ worth of my old shitty reception job. I told my aunt all about it the next day and she was beaming with pride. Full of confidence, I found it finally time to tell my parents where I had been all this time. They only believed my story with the help of my aunt, but they weren’t as receptive to my life as Shirley was. That’s okay, I thought, I know that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be right now regardless of what they think.

My dom game continued to improve as weeks passed, and Rowan was my most loyal sub by far. I grew a collection of toys, whips, and collars to use, and as my dom-sub relationship grew with Rowan, he began to accept harsher punishment. One of my favorite things to do was humiliate him. Since I’d known him for a long time, I would get personal and tell him things that he was shocked to hear from his mistress. “Remember that botched prom invitation you tried giving to that girl in high school?” I cooed into his ear, my voice dripping like honey from my bright pink lips. “I wish she had said yes…only to realize how pathetic you are as man. Did you really think you had anything to offer a woman? My panty offer is still on the table, little man…” Each one of Rowan’s breaths puffed with ecstasy, probably assuming I had gone the extra mile to learn about his life when in reality I had lived it with him. The deeper I delved into his personal life, the hotter I felt, knowing that I would never tell him the truth. A few weeks ago, I told him that I, as my old male self, had moved to another country through text so that he didn’t think I was dead. And now here I was toying with his mind like a spider spinning a web. I couldn’t get enough of it!

A long and exhilarating year had passed. With only a year of experience, I had become one of the fastest growing dominatrixes in the area and had earned the respect of the other veteran doms throughout multiple clubs. Lady Eve was especially proud of me, admiring my perseverance and dedication to the craft. I had gotten to know all sorts of unique clients. Some liked to be kicked and beaten, others liked to be strapped up and whipped, and I even had a group of men who wanted nothing more than to be leashed and walk on all fours in public with me holding their chained collars. Eve and my aunt Shirley were basically my best friends now, and I had cut all ties with the rest of my family.

In my downtime, whenever I wasn’t with a client or upping my fashion game, I often thought about the man I used to be. Unmotivated, lazy, out of shape, and constantly blaming his problems on the world around him. And yet, because he wasn’t afraid to take an uncertain opportunity, he blossomed into this flower who couldn’t have been happier with the woman she’d become.

One night, as I sat on my bed dressed in my tight leathery outfit getting ready for a session, I received a video call from an unknown number. Assuming it was a potential client, I propped my phone up at a slight angle to capture my face and upper body. “I-Is this Mistress Taylor?” the male voice spoke softly without his camera turned on. “It is,” I replied, stretching my whip to ensure that it was taut. “What can I do for you, sweetheart?”