Teaching A Femme Boi To Suck Cock
Once James had become more comfortable in expressing his feminine nature via experimentation with his physical appearance, I decided it was time to take him a step further.
For a femme-boi like James, the overt (and sometimes covert) transitions open one up to a desire to want and *need* more. In the past several months, his feminization rituals have become almost second nature to him. He is more at peace with himself and is growing more confident about the way he relates in the world around him. For purposes of clarification, James is not a 24/7 cross dresser or sissy fetishist. With James, the way he explores and embraces feminization training is embedded in the erotic and within an innate need he has to surrender his ego to a dominant woman. Our exchanges are rarely conducted in a spirit of humiliation or degradation. Playing with James serves as an opportunity for him to get outside of himself for a little while and then take bits and pieces of what I instruct him to do for me and apply them in subtle, yet significant ways in his daily life. This has been working most splendidly, I must say.
A couple of weeks ago, James came over for a playtime. As is customary, he was directed to strip out of his man clothes and undergo inspection. I was quite pleased that James made sure to thoroughly shave his body…I touched a thigh tenderly and relished in its silkiness. He also showed me how his genitals and boy-cunt were completely free of any and all body hair…this boy is so meticulous, it is an absolute joy to behold!
“You’re just…perfect, James, ” I told him, smiling proudly.
“Thank you, Mina, ” he responded shyly.
“Of course, my darling slut. Now, since you’ve been progressing so well with me in these past months, I thought tonight would be a good time for you to begin some new challenges. Are you up for this?” I asked gently.
James looked up at me slowly and then nodded.
Perfect.
To introduce James to the next phase in his feminization training, and also so as not to overwhelm the lovely boy, I decided that the best way to move forward would involve some subtle erotic mind manipulation. Now, James and I have had many conversations about fantasies and desires he has kept secret over the years. One of these fantasies is to experience a cock in his mouth. I also know that James is a heterosexual male at his core, but the fact that he bravely confessed this desire to me during one of his lipstick training sessions indicated to me that with the right amount of coaxing, encouragement and gradual exposure, James would indeed be able to live out this fantasy someday.
Someday was to start tonight.
I had James put on a new pair of sexy boy shorts and red thigh high stockings. I told him to relax and sit back at my vanity while I prepared him for his makeover. We sipped wine and talked about various events, the end of the semester, what he’d learned both in and outside of psychology class. When James’ face was properly cleansed, I applied a light moisturizer and could sense him slipping into femme boi mode. His breathing was even, his eyes bright and content and his mouth curving into a smile.
“Now James, keep your mouth still so I can finish painting it, you sexy bitch!” I teased.
When his make up was complete, I had him, as I always do, quietly take in his reflection in the mirror.
“Do you see how fucking beautiful you are?” I whispered into his ear and bit at his lobe.
The atmosphere was beginning to fill with desire and want. James’ cock was starting to bulge in his boi short panties and this pleased me immensely. I sat on his lap and pulled open my robe. Looking directly into James’ eyes, I placed a hand around his strong neck and pushed his face to my bare breast.
“Make me feel good, James. Suck on my nipples, please,” I sighed and he obliged.
I told him how incredibly hot it was to look down and see his prettily painted face buried between my tits. I pulled gently at his hair, winding my fingers through and around his skull. Lipstick marks from his gorgeous mouth were tattooed around my nipples and cleavage. , His cock was pressing so achingly against his panties and into my thigh. I allowed him to take his cock out but not touch it suggestively. Then I wrapped my legs around him and without ever removing my own black panties, I rubbed my cunt against his hardness until I got off.
We both were breathless for a few moments. I slid from James’ lap and put my robe back on, straightened myself up while he stared at me with a half glazed look in his eyes. I then took his hand and pulled him up, and led him to the living room where my laptop sat beside the sofa.
“Ok, beautiful whore…get yourself comfortable and grab the laptop. You’ll see that I have a video clip cued up and I want you to watch it for me…” I told him. “Now the thing is…you should stroke yourself and continue to play with your cock throughout the viewing. But. You do not orgasm. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand. I can stroke…but not come…this sounds like a delicious tease you have cooked up,” he grinned.
I laughed. “I suppose it is. Now press ‘play’.”
The look on this femme sluts face when theme of the video was revealed–boys sucking boy-cocks–was literally gorgeous *and* priceless. I didn’t even have to remind him to touch himself while he watched…he did that intuitively, which was even more delightful.
“Pay close attention to how the mouths are being used on the cocks, please,” I would point out now and again. “Does that boy look like he’s enjoying what he’s doing, baby?” I would ask.
James’ face was flushed, his cock completely erect as his hands and fingers teased his own flesh. I waited for a particular scene in the video and then I told him to pause it and reach underneath the pillow he was sitting on and find a “gift” that I’d left there for him.
James’ gift of course, was a realistic-looking silicone dildo.
“Ohhh…look at that!” I feigned surprise.
He was grinning from ear to ear, his cock was even more engorged, and I stood before him and took the toy from him.
“What I want you to do is act out the cock-sucking you see on this cock toy. But first, you must kiss the cock that I hold in front of you, darling,” I instructed while rubbing the dildo against my own wet cunt.
His breathing was coming so fast now while he observed me christening the cock he was about to take in his mouth. When I felt it was adequately slicked, I held it out and pressed it to his lips.
“Kiss it, cockwhore. Please.”
James kissed the cock toy lovingly.
“Beautiful. Now press ‘play’ again and use your mouth for what it was created”.
Mina, Femme Boi Life Trainer
1-888-662-6482
Yahoo/Twitter: kinkyfunmina
Email for appointments: kinkyfunmina@yahoo.com
Femme Boi Fun
I’ve been so busy working on transforming James this past semester, that I hardly had a chance to update you on his progress.
To bring readers up to speed, James is now wearing panties 24/7, (underneath his boy clothes) and keeps his legs, arm pits, chest, stomach and private parts completely smooth. He confides to me that the regular beauty regimen I constructed for him has been the thing he looks most forward to when he needs to unwind. He continues to make me proud each and every day as he embraces the feminine part of himself he kept suppressed for far too long.
I must admit, I have a soft spot for femme bois and sissies. I love to be able to coax them out of their socially constructed masculine shell and help them realize the true release they can experience when they open themselves up to a whole realm of possibility. Its not about degrading or humiliating…but rather becoming comfortable with both the masculine and feminine that lies within each of us. It is when we embrace all sides of ourselves that we can finally become whole.
Mina, Kink Artist Extraordinaire
1-888-662-6482
Yahoo/Twitter: kinkyfunmina
Email for appointments: kinkyfunmina@yahoo.com
James’ Transformation Begins
His name is James. He is an undergrad psychology student in the class I am teaching/assisting with this semester. From the first day of school, he caught my eye. It wasn’t merely about his looks…in fact, his physical presence would probably border on nondescript. He is clean-cut, with short dark blond hair, blue eyes. Not overly built, but not too thin. Something about him exuded…vulnerability. Not necessarily wimpy-ness…not that at all, actually. But a need to let go of something or bring more of something to him. Maybe it was in the soft-spoken but slightly intense way he spoke when participating in class discussions, or the thoughtful far away look in his clear blue eyes during the lecture on “theories of behavioral change”. I felt as though he wanted to say something more…something personal even, but backed down at the last minute during class time.
Last week I led a study group and James was one of the several students who showed up. We spent a good two hours in the student lounge after the group broke apart talking about everything and anything: Classes that sucked. Classes that rocked. Healthcare reform. The movie “Jennifer’s Body”. What makes a movie a cult classic. Feminism. The insect as a symbol of the human condition in Kafka’s “Metamorphosis”. Same sex marriage. Then we stopped for drinks at a popular hangout near the university. And James really opened up to me.
At one point while we were sitting in our booth enjoying our beverages and talking up a storm, I pulled out my compact and vial of Bobbi Brown lip gloss for a quick touch-up. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see James watching intently, almost as if transfixed, as I dipped the applicator into the merlot colored gloss, then dabbing it to my lips. The look on his face was a mixture of longing and wistfulness.
“That’s a very pretty shade,” he said softly.
“Why, thank you, I smiled knowingly at him.
In that moment, I knew. James’ longing was embedded in a desire to experience the feminine from within.
The bar was fairly quiet and empty that night, as it was a Wednesday. I leaned over and whispered to James, “Come with me.”
I led him into the ladies restroom. No one was around. He looked slightly perplexed for a moment, but nonetheless he didn’t hesitate and followed me right inside. I locked the door and took his hand in mine and positioned him directly in front of the mirror.
“You have so much potential, James, ” I said softly, smiling at his reflection.
I reached back into my purse and took out the lip gloss. Next, I placed my hand underneath his chin and held his face inches from mine, looking very closely at his face and into his eyes. That longing was still there, only it had deepened in the last several minutes. He didn’t question. He didn’t protest. He simply surrendered. This was an inevitable moment in James’ life.
“Do you trust me?” I asked him.
“Absolutely,” he replied.
As I painted his beautiful mouth with my lipstick, I could feel his whole body sigh. He didn’t need to make a sound. The truth in that moment filled every part of his being. And I was actually quite honored to be the one to create this moment for him.
“Now look…” I turned him gently to face his reflection in the mirror. “That makes so much more sense, doesn’t it, James?”
“Oh wow…Mina…yes, it so makes sense,” his eyes lit up as he took in his reflection.
Transformation needn’t be a majorly overt event to be significant. Often, its in making the tiniest steps when one can feel the pull toward something greater to come.
Afterward, I kissed James on the cheek and gave him my lip gloss.
“Wear it to bed tonight for me,” I placed the vial into his hand. “I promise you, this is only the beginning”.
The season of transformations is upon us. October brings us vivid, cool days as Mother Earth changes her appearance from one of abundant lush and suppleness to jeweled tones of the coming bounty. Halloween is just a few weeks away and now is the time to think about the masks you wear in your daily life. Are you being true to yourself? Perhaps you need the assistance of a Kink Artist to aid you in determining how to put your best face forward. Strip away the mask for a day and allow me to transform you into the character you have always longed to be.
1-888-662-6482
Yahoo/Twitter/AIM: kinkyfunmina
Keeping Track of Time
My primary plaything is not much into wearing jewlery, at least not during his regular daily activities. (Remind me to tell you about what I *can* get him to wear when we’re gender bending, though.) As far as male accessorizing goes, he’ll usually wear a wrist watch but not much else. Which quite honestly, is fine by me. I don’t prefer to micro-manage every thing he does. Except…
Plaything had to go out of town this weekend. We haven’t had very many opportunities to get into our D/s routine of play in a couple weeks, and I’d been missing that. Plaything is such a beautiful submissive…he truly embodies the very best in what a male submissive can possibly offer to a domina. He’s the kind of man I adore topping…smart, independent-minded, has people who revere and look up to him…just an all-around successful, brilliant person. Yet, when he submits to me and allows me to bring him down a few notches…its such a fucking amazing feeling for me. I’ve told him time and again, he has *so* spoiled me.
So, I wanted to be able to exert a little “influence” over Plaything while he was to be away visiting relatives. While he was packing, I presented a small, gift-wrapped box to him. I love the look of surprise and appreciation on this boy’s face when I treat him.
“Open it, baby,” I told him.
Inside of the box, was a brand new wristwatch. His old one was becoming a bit worn and he’d been talking about replacing it soon. BUT. This was not just any new wristwatch. Before this gift was wrapped, I decided to “christen” it. Earlier that day, I had indulged myself while looking at some porn depicting incredibly tolerant men taking some serious, flinch-inducing whippings at the hand of a femdom. I got myself off hard and repeatedly. When I orgasm that hard, my cunt gets *very* juicy. Each time I orgasmed, I rubbed the face of Playthings new watch in and around my wet cunt.
I instructed Plaything to put the new watch on and then lift his wrist to his face and inhale. He obliged. Immediately, a knowing grin danced across his lips. He knew. He recognized. He’d better. 
I then placed a finger over his mouth and pushed it inside and he began to suck it gently. He tasted me on my own finger and the look in his eyes was sheer lust.
“Now baby, I know you have to leave in a minute, but you are to wear this watch all weekend. Whenever you’re awake, on every even hour, or as close as you can get to it, I want you to lift the watch to your nose and smell your Owner’s scent. I don’t care where you are or who you’re with. You know how to be discreet. Will you do this for me?” I asked softly.
“God, yes, I will, ” he nearly gasped.
“Good. And also, each night before bed, please remember to lick the face of the watch one time,” I instructed.
This is the kind of subtle control I simply thrive on with my submissives. Its not about monitoring his every move, but rather, a way to stay ingrained in his mind even when we have to be apart.
And I mean, really, if you have to spend a weekend with relatives, can you honestly think of a better way to pass the time? 
Surrendering control to another person can have an intoxicating effect. Because if a femdom does it right, she will continue to have an impact on her submissive no matter where he is. He will hear her sweet, soft voice in his ears, feel the faint sting of her nails still digging into his flesh and smell her inimitable scent on his being until she has him on his knees in front of her again.
Mina, Kink Artist Extraordinaire
1-888-662-6482
Yahoo/AIM/Twitter: kinkyfunmina
Mirror Image
Mirrors are a sexy tool to use when playing BDSM games.
I’ve been playing with a darling sissy submissive boy who I’ll call Wendy. Wendy and I occasionally get together every few months when he feels the need to be humiliated and controlled by a sensual femdom. He travels a lot and this is really the only time he can truly indulge in his need for sissification, bondage and discipline.
Today, when Wendy arrived, I had a specific idea in mind for how we would engage in our exchange. He becomes literally exhilarated when dressing en femme, and for some time now, he has been considering purchasing a corset. Wendy likes the idea of being feminized and bound up simultaneously. Usually, he submits to me while wearing pink panties, hosiery, and high heels. And let me tell you, he looks simply adorable when all dolled up! But today, I wanted to bring him closer to his fantasy of being restrained and feminized at the same time.
After Wendy disrobed in front of me and passed his inspection satisfactorily, he looked toward his duffle bag which contained his various feminine accessories and reglalia.
“No,” I told him gently. “I have something else I want you to wear for me”.
Wendy’s eyes brightened and he could hardly contain himself when I presented a supersized roll of saran wrap.
“We’re going to corset your sissy flesh today, Wendy. I want you to get used to the feeling of your body tightly bound and give you an idea of how you’ll look when you put on the real thing someday”, I informed.
I led Wendy to the full length mirror in my bedroom corner. I instructed him to stand facing the mirror while I wound layer upon layer of saran wrap over his torso, hips, waist and stopped just at his bust-line. It was a fairly warm, humid day, so Wendy began to perspire quickly once encased in my “do-it-yourself” corset.
“Miss Mina…wow…I love the way this looks! My waist is cinched and its so tight, I can barely breathe! This feels amazing,” Wendy gushed.
“Yes, you do look rather amazing, Wendy. However, there is one problem,” I shook my head.
“What’s that?” Wendy asked in an alarmed tone.
“Wendy, you are sweating like a pig! No proper sissy girl would be so sweaty. This is highly inappropriate,” I remarked.
Wendy’s face went from beaming like a kid on Christmas to forlorn and worrisome. And Wendy should be concerned. We’ve spent many hours over the past couple of years working on proper feminine etiquette and hygiene. The last thing I want is a smelly, sweaty, sissy in my house.
I brought out the riding crop and told Wendy to get down on all fours, but to remain looking at himself in the mirror. He reacted promptly and knelt down in front of me.
“Stick out that girlie bottom of yours…and hold in that gut!” I directed. “Do not take your eyes off of your reflection.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Wendy gulped, staring at her wrapped physique, with beads of perspiration dripping down the parts of her skin that were bare.
“Sissy girls are clean. Sissy girls do NOT sweat like nasty pigs!” I implored while the crop met his bare ass over and over again.
His whimpers delighted me.
“Watch yourself. Look at yourself in the mirror…what do you see?” I asked as the crop caressed his thighs.
“I see…I see…a sissy who wants badly to please her Mistress, ma’am”, Wendy said shakily.
“Sit up on your knees, Wendy,” I ordered. “Kiss the crop”.
Wendy put her lips to the tip of my crop. I patted the top of Wendy’s head. “Good girl.”
Wendy managed a small smile.
“You say you want to please me badly? Did I hear correctly?” I asked
Wendy assured me that was exactly what he had said earlier.
“Well good. Because right now, what would please me even more, is for you to show me what a sissy slut you truly are, Wendy.”
I brought out a few new items. A tube of whore-red lipstick and a dildo. But not the usual strap-on dildo Wendy is so fond of making love to with her mouth. This one was a special suctioned dildo. To be placed right on the mirror where Wendy could kneel and worship while watching her reflection as she performed like the dirty sissy slut she so loved unleashing when we’re together.
While she was still on her knees, I reached down and held Wendy under her chin while I applied the lipstick. Wendy’s sissy-clit was engorged by now. This made me smile.
I attached the suction-dildo to the mirror and motioned for Wendy to crawl to me.
“Look at yourself. Look at those red painted lips, Wendy. Now bend forward and show me what they’re good for. And do not take your eyes of off your reflection”.
When you’re ready to take that plunge and discover what kind of sissywhore or bondage slut you are, Miss Mina will direct you.
Mina
Kink Artist Extraordinaire 1-888-662-6482
Yahoo/AIM: kinkyfunmina
email: kinkyfunmina@yahoo.com
My world
The first time I encountered a BDSM themed play party was about five years ago when I accompanied a submissive male friend to a gathering at the home of one of his associates. I can recall so clearly the night I was introduced to the world of flogging and beating and the way it left my inner domina hungry for more.
I was dressed simply (haha, there’s nothing really *simple* about wearing PVC or rubber clothing) in a black PVC catsuit, a sleeveless/tank top style with sexy V-neck cut that zipped up the front. My long auburn hair was piled on top of my head with a few amber tendrils falling loose around my face. It was late fall, and the night was cold and crisp. Walking into that party with my friend, I sensed a different type of energy in this crowd than I’d ever noticed at vanilla gatherings.
Back then, the overall physical-play aspect was a fairly mild one…that first night, I participated in a spanking game while the submissive’s boyfriend watched. Quite frankly, for me, I found I was more turned on by the psychological element that somehow was opening up for me through that initial exchange. How intoxicating and amusing that beautiful, interesting men and women would approach me and drop to their knees and beg to be of service to me in some way. I turned down these requests, even though I was more than intrigued. I think I probably chuckled quite a bit at first, thinking, “What in the world??”
And then the sweetest little dumpling of a girl and her dominant boyfriend asked if I would spank her with a flogger. He wanted to watch while another woman topped his girlfriend and she always fantasized about being spanked by a female. There was something about the sparkle in her eyes and the way she said, “Please?” that appealed to me. So, she lifted up her little skirt and revealed a creamy, heart shaped, darling behind that just seemed to be *needing* to be hit. Who was I to refuse?
I asked the girl’s dominant boyfriend to demonstrate the way he used the flogger on his pet. He brought out a very pretty black-suede stranded instrument and I stroked the material while he explained the best way to begin. I observed his approach and studied his pet’s response. She squirmed and squealed with delight when the strands brushed across her skin. Then it was my turn.
I started out rather slowly, almost tentatively. The first strikes I administered to her ass with the flogger were rather soft, almost teasing. She giggled a little when the leather met her skin initially. Then as I became more comfortable and started to build momentum, each blow was delivered more harshly than the one before it. I paused here and there, to observe her pale bottom turn pink, then crimsom, then scarlet. Welts began to appear on her bare flesh. I stopped to caress and trace the indentations I created and she moaned softly, beautifully. Harder and harder I hit her, and she would wince, moan and shake. I stopped for a moment and looked at her boyfriend whose eyes were glued to his pet’s lovely, writhing body. I looked at her face and it was flushed with the most amazing mixture of pain, disorientation and glazed-over surreal-ness. I was hooked, not so much on just the power of being able to *cause* pain to another, but more so that I could bring this other person to such a place of ecstacy, to take one and make them so vulnerable and in that moment, literally own them.
This was a world in which I belonged.
