Dear Mistress Alexa:
I want to let you know that this morning I am leaving the hotel with my white crotchless thong lace panties (with a little blue bow above my dick and a larger, flowing bow of white material above my ass) under my clothes. And I used lavender Secret (strong enough for a man, made for a woman!) under my arms. And, of course, pink toes. I’ll be at least half hard all day knowing this and thinking about my waxing tonight.
Yesterday was incredible. As you know, I had a full body waxing appointment scheduled, but the woman who runs the studio had to postpone it for a day. Instead, I decided to get a manicure and pedicure. I have done it before with a “men’s manicure/pedicure”, but this time would be different.
I am away from home on a business trip and searched the web for nail salons. I settled on one that looked good for what I had in mind. It was a newly opened nail salon run by Vietnamese immigrants, and it aspired to be upscale. When I went in, there were three other female customers. From across the room, the woman who seemed to be in charge yelled, “Can I help you?” I replied that I wanted a manipedi. She said, with a smile, “No color, right?” I said, nervously, that in fact I wanted color. I could tell that eyes were upon me when she told me to select a bottle of nail polish from the rack.
I turned and surveyed the rack, focusing on the pink polish. Out of about 4 choices, I chose a pale, feminine color. The nervousness and humiliation related to what the other people were thinking was delicious.
A middle aged Asian women directed me to the pedicure chair. She started the massage and started to go to work on my feet, cutting the nails and rubbing off calluses. I opted for a hot stone pedicure, so she rubbed smooth hot black stones over my calves. I commented that women who wear heels must love this massage. I couldn’t tell if she understood me, but she said yes.
As you know, I texted you to tell you what was going on. You told me that you wanted me to have glitter on my nails, so that the light would catch it from across the room. I debated whether to interrupt the process, but I decided that the experience would be even more intense if I announced that I needed to get glitter. So just when the technician was going to start with the polish, I said that I had changed my mind and wanted polish with glitter. She gave me the disposable flip flops used in nail salons and sent me back to the polish rack.
I selected what I thought was a pale pink glitter polish and came back to the chair. However, the technician showed me that I had in fact chosen clear polish with glitter. So after some discussion, we decided that she would paint my nails pink and then apply the glitter. The other women in the salon were glancing over in disbelief at this big man being so specific about his nail polish.
The technician finished on my toes and led me to the manicure table. She brought along the polish that she placed on my toes, and when she finished trimming my nails asked if I wanted the same polish on my fingernails. Although I really wanted it, I told her no. I wanted clear polish. She said, loudly, “Buff?” I said equally loudly, “No, clear polish.” I had never had polish on my nails before, and I wondered if I could get away with shiny nails in the office. The idea of risk was intoxicating.
As the technician was putting polish on my nails, another customer—an attractive 40-ish woman (I’d call her a MILF)—walked from behind me to the sink to wash her hands. As she returned to her manicure table, her eyes were fixed on my newly pink toenails. I could only wonder what she was thinking. Which one was it?
“What a fucking pussy.”
“I’d like to ram my strapon in him.”
“Pretty color. Pretty feet.”
“I bet he likes to suck dick, too.”
After finishing my nails, the technician took me to the drying table, where I sat in a desk chair while air blew on my toes and fingernails. As I sat there, she began to massage my shoulders and back. It felt wonderful, and I slumped over in pleasure. There I was—getting a girly manipedi in public. My dick was hard, as it had been through most of the procedure, and I was enjoying her hands on me.
I noticed that she was chatting a lot in Vietnamese with another employee. All at once, I remembered that I was wearing a lace bra and panties under my clothes. Her hands were on top of the shoulder and back straps. Did she feel the bra? Did she know my secret? Was she openly talking about it with her co-worker? I felt a rush of panic and asked her to stop the massage. She looked at me with a knowing look and stopped. She told me to wait a few minutes at the drying table before leaving.
It seemed like a long time before I got my shoes and socks on and left. I said good by and all of the people there smiled at me in a sort of tolerant way and bid farewell. I was sure that they were going to talk about this sissy as soon as I left the place.
On the way back to the hotel, I stopped a an adult store to look for a few things. I had ordered lots of sex items—lingerie, butt plugs, lube, etc.—to show up at my hotel in the coming day or so, but I wanted a couple of other things. I found them right away—a big black dick dildo with balls and a suction cup base and a pair of nipple clamps connected by a chain. I also found a copy of “Forced Womanhood” magazine and decided to buy it. It had a picture of a woman forcing a shemale to suck a man’s cock on the cover.
I brought the items to the two women who where at the check out register. They obviously put 1+1+1 together and saw that—because I was interested in this magazine—I was going to suck and fuck the dildo and use the clamps on myself. I drank in the moment of them knowing my deepest desires as I paid for the items and left.
With my new pretty nails, my new toys, and my phone, I couldn’t wait to get back and have a session with you. I knew you were going to drain my balls (or leave me frustrated) as we both enjoyed my new advancement into the sissy world. You didn’t disappoint.