Fingers grasp my locks. I want to squeal but refrain. Like a child, taught to keep quiet, I only speak when spoken to. The hands drag me from the bed ...nto the floor. I manage to kneel as Heels walks over. My face staring at the heels of Heels, a strange thought.I am passed over like a rag doll, a toy that no longer pleases. Another hand wrenches me upwards, it hurts, but still, I make no sound.The black dress that stretches over the upper thighs is now my vision, my cheek feeling the heat. None of this heterosexual Christianrubbish. I knew how to pleasure a man and I knew how to corrupt him. Ihad met and become the transvestite alter ego I had feared but perhapseven then subconsciously knew I was.I went over to my boyfriend and gently applied lipstick, false eyelashesand eyeshadow to his sleeping face as I kissed him and stroked his earlymorning hard on.He still hadn't woken.I would try to put on some jewelery whilst he was still sleeping. Itwas so much easier to feminise a. More

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