I have this recurring fantasy where I live in around the end of the 1800s. That Oscar Wilde period.
Each young gentleman is sent out into the world-school, university, relationships, friendships, jobs and the pleasure and decency to build character and gain self knowledge.
The gentleman is assigned a hot boy to keep him company, in his life. He is for gentlemen of my social class. There for company and my pleasure. To do with as I like or what I can conjure up in my imagination.
A boy’s duties are;
To be submissive
To be obedient
To worship
To be available 100% of the time
Your daddy/master is the most important thing in the world to you.
The boi is there to serve in any way master sees fit. At master’s whim.
Now it’s of course up to me as to whether you remain a boy or as a feminised creation so as to familiarise myself with the fairer sex.
Naturally we are paired. Some might call it destiny. My first sexual experiences are with my boi slut. Full of hormones I use you as my kinky fucktoy.
We have started our journey into feminisation and slutty sex sissy fucktoy training too.
Lately I’ve been finding myself thinking of my girl when we are not together. I fantasise about being with her. I begin changing my plans to be with my princess.
I struggle with my emotions, sexual desires, anxiety and identity.
The world outside is a dangerous place for people like us. Gays, faggots, perverts. Hard prison time for improper indiscretions, left in the world only knowing loneliness,shame, fear, and isolation.
I mean if it’s on the down low and everyone knows it goes on in my social circles. Never to be spoken of and something a gentleman would eventually grow up and out of, eventually devoting himself to a wife and family. Perhaps only engaging in such encounters now and then, as when desperately needed.
A battle between beast and angel rages inside of me. I take it out on her. My concerns and worries come to the surface, represented in my treatment towards her.
I speak to her with total disrespect and disregard. Calling her abusive names, spanking her, chatting to her with almost disgust for what she represents, a dirty faggot. Exactly what I am too but I take it out on her. But then there’s the throbbing excitement and joy I feel, when it’s just us. I allow myself to feel. To let go and feel liberated in being my true self. Capable of loving feelings with a sissy faggot. My girl, my beautiful sweet sissy.
A princess, sensually and softly speaking that love chat. Laying it full on my sweet beautiful princess. Daddy’s girl. Telling you, no-declaring my love to you. Romanticising my special girl. My angel but the demon nags n nags in my ear taking my attention again. My anxious psyche clicking into fight mode. Again the absolute volley of abuse for you. Would you like to take my spit in your slutty sissy faggot mouth? |
