Member-only story
I had never thought of submitting to a trans dominatrix. I guess I thought that a transwoman isn’t really a woman, that submitting to a TV (as I still called transpeople) wasn’t the real deal. Besides, I was having plenty of fun with real women, some of whom I met in local clubs, and occasionally, when money allowed, a professional dominatrix, Then I met Mistress Tevea, (I loved the name once I had worked out the joke). She was tall, over six feet in her stiletto heeled boots, she had blond hair, she was beautiful, She was beautiful and that slightly masculine angular jaw, that visible Adam’s apple, didn’t bother me at all. She had confidence, she had an aura. I knew I had to serve her. I just knew.
Somebody had told me she worked professionally. I booked a session. She recognised me when I arrived.
“You’re the naughty boy who was ogling me at the club the other week aren’t you?”
“Yes Mistress.”
“Do you play with yourself as you think about me. Do you come?”
I felt myself going bright red with shame.
“Yes Mistress.”
“You need to be locked up, don’t you?”
“Yes Mistress.”
“I’m going to send you away now.”
“Away?”
