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Story: The trip Part 1

Posted 09-02-2016 at 11:14 AM by CSasha
Updated 09-22-2016 at 03:59 PM by CSasha

We had met a couple of weeks ago online via getDare. Some messages went back and forth, and then we moved over to Kik. He dared me and was a fantastic top. Especially afterwards we had some more conversations, way beyond or kinks, though returning to them again.

He was looking for a sub with no limits, even had an Ad out there and in his signature. But he was looking for someone really without any limits. His limits were still in line, which were social death and mutilation. He was a pretty clever and reasonable guy. At least that was my strong impression from our many serious talks about anything.

We both knew most people stating they had no limits just didn't know. Everyone had limits, well at least nearly everyone. As my detailed Likes/Dislikes list showed, I had mine, but at least I was aware of them. Looking for someone really without limits was like looking for the needle in a haystack. No, even worse. More like looking for the most gigantic diamond on earth. At the same time it was something special.

My online friend was most curious about having such a person without restraints at his mercy, pushing beyond the usual limits. Being mean, cruel, reckless. It wasn't going to be about the single acts or results. Rather he liked to feel the power, having someone acting over his or her very self-interest, forgetting dignity, safety, the own needs. Just for the sake of serving him. Without limits. Without any rejections. To everything he would come up with, as long as he wanted. I suspected him to be very creative. He was eager for that moment when they started to plead and beg for emrcy. What I could understand from my experience was the self-confirmation by others giving themselves up for yourself, though that only seemed completely on the surface. Most people were driven by their kinks and desires, to be valued as the gift they wanted to be. To be taken.

I felt a strong sympathy for my online friend in his special desire. I knew it's fulfillment would be very unlikely. Still I kept an open eye for people with 'no limits' and pointed them towards his ad. It didn't help. Not even one in a thousand. After a couple of month we forgot about that topic.

But in a phase of incredible horniness, we talked again, and I agreed to come over to him for my three weeks of vacation. The details of that opportunity fit so well together, it was just too tempting. I remembered how attentive he had been as a top, so I wanted to try for real, this time live and local. He told me his rough location and I figured out the details of the trip. Nearly eight hours, though I live in a big city in Germany. The flight to Great Britain was the quickest part. The longest were the several train and bus tracks deep within the country side.

We hadn't put down any details regarding any service to him yet. There was already so much to ask and organize, I delayed figuring that out over a cup of tea or chocolate when we were going to be face to face. He told me to only care for the trip towards him, not back yet. We would see how it worked out and then care for the back travel together. It seemed quite reasonable to me, given the fact that I could immediately return if something felt wrong. He also told me to only come with the male clothes I was wearing, stuffing my suitcase with female cloth, cross-dressing equipment and toys alone. I knew he was more into girls than guys, but what don't we do for a kink in lack of the prefered sex. Anyway the connection felt still quite strong, heart, soul and the powerful mind being much more important than some details of the body. Gender was more something to fiddle with, good for humiliation. Still I had completely waxed my body and facial hair and used creams to soften my skin ever since I knew about the trip. To me it was some kind of small tribute to his doing so far, a tiny sacrifice of effort and temporary body modification. Once it was done I felt happy and proud about it, not for me, but because I hoped it would make him happy. For my own kink I had put on chastity device and trained to leave it on over night and day. I suspected that to make a large part of my ongoing arousal.

Now I stood at my last bus stop, in the middle of nowhere. The street was surround by wood and hills, a small hut the only building to see. When I send him a Kik message that I finally had arrived, he replied: "Good. You should see a hut there. Go change in there. Don't worry, no people are going to be around from here on. I have put a wooden box in there, including a small mirror and a lock. Put on your complete cross-dressing. Make yourself pretty. The red shining high heels you got. No wig. Make yourself two braided pigtails instead. Put your male cloth into the box and seal it with the lock." I went towards the hut, when I got a second message: "Near the hut is a small path. It only leads into one direction. That's how you get to me. Take it as a welcome present that you have to walk that mile. In your high heels of course. Also, your mobile connection is going to fade out soon. But take your time. I'll be waiting for you."

I did indeed find that wooden box with the mirror and the lock. No key. So I replied: "Alright. Till soon." I had last doubts. It was still daylight. What if someone saw me? Even if my cross-dressing would give me a passing as a woman, when I had to talk it would be obvious, besides my German accent. A little bit of anxious about what all could happen to me kicked in, and fed my arousal even more. Doing all this, whoring myself out as a slave, submitting to humiliating actions, becoming an object for another person's satisfaction. There were many people shaking there heads about such behavior, including lots of my friends. On the other hand it was my human right to live out my sexuality, whatever it might be, as long as I obeyed the law. Yes, I was finally going to do it. So brushed away all doubts and continued.

Finally I was dressed as a woman. Nicely braided pigtails at the side with pink ribbons, complete make-up sexy, but not too slutty for now. Two of the things I had had to train to do well. Big fake-breasts set in place with medical tape. A corset with garters and over-knee stockings. A violet long shirt, my favorite black mini skirt, and the red shining high heels as requested. My male cloth were in the locked box, and I didn't have the key.

Though I had done my research on trans-sexuality and transition I knew I didn't want to be a woman. A man neither, but that was another issue. I was fine with the body I had, fortunate with the average height and weight, unfortunate with still significant male features like the configuration of my bones. At least I had a very broad pelvis, more pear than apple.

The reasons I dressed as a woman for somebody else, with his knowledge, and to sexually submit to him, were those of commitment and humiliation. Despite all outcries and efforts for equality, beneath the illusionary curtain of equality laws and good manners, we are still stuck in labels like men and women, with according expectations and prejudices attributed. "Throwing like a girl". Women are still seen to be physical inferior, in truth even inferior at all. That's why there's no "Ignorant as a boy" or other things. And with that comes that the fucking stud is appreciated, applauded and envied. Fucking much and many as a male gives you relations to "Don Juan" or "Casanova". But being fucked in any hole is something degrading. As strange as it sounds once you experienced how awesome it can be to be intruded, ridden, driven to climax, orgasm after orgasm. Or to make someone or several people happy with your holes. Anyway society regards being fucked as degraded, shameful even. Let's not speak about it. Of course women are destined to be fucked. Women are supposed to be the inferior being fucked. If she fucks often and many partners, we call her a "slut", a "whore", a "bitch". Worse if she gives a blowjob, or a deepthroat even. Being forcefully throatfucked. Being taken. Swallowing cum. Worse with anal. And there's much more of that. So by dressing myself as a woman for exactly those roles, those activities, I submit. Somehow it was a relief to me to embrace my own little "bitch", as someone regarded as a man. I feel sympathy with the women being unfairly seen and treated. I feel the need to punish myself as a compensation. It arouses me to put myself low.

With a sensation of pressure in my chastity device I started my walk, struggling with my high heels on the poor path, rolling my suitcase behind me. My body was rushed with horny excitement.

Fortunately the path through the woods had been as empty as he had written me. Still there was the excitement, the tension of possibly being seen in my outfit, then probably even talked to. I wasn't used to walk in the high heels, especially for such a long walk on bad ground. I estimated it to have taken me a good hour, all while my thoughts were wandering around the vast possibilities, fantasies of mine, dreams and nightmares of what my host may do with me.

When I saw the house at the end of the path, I took a deep breath. Still time to run, but so far I had made great commitments to get here. Besides the nervousness I was also horny as hell, eager to live out parts of my fantasies. Longing for being fucked and degraded, and possibly tendered after a session of agony in the hands of my online friend. Now for real. So I used the cheap girl's perfume I had bought and moved on.


Part 2
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