This week, I finally had a chance to dress up as taylah for the first time in about three weeks. I started off in my bra, panties, cream top, red and white polka dot dress, a pink and white wig, and my purple heels. I then changed into just a swimsuit and my platform heels. I walked around the house a little bit, then decided to add some clown-girl facepaint to the mix.
Here’s where the interesting bit happened. My Mistress, Mistress Magick, had specifically told me that I was not permitted to touch my sissy clittie – really, She’s in control, so it’s not mine, it’s Hers – until a certain assignment was complete. So here I was, dressed up, in lots of makeup and facepaint, and some heels. I felt so girly and feminine. At this point, any other time, I would begin to play with myself until I reach orgasm.
But I didn’t.
It was the strangest feeling I’ve experienced in a long time.
Instead, I ate some breakfast.
I watched some morning TV.
I did some work on my computer.
I fetched a glass of water.
I reapplied some of my makeup and facepaint.
I took some photos to send to Mistress Magick (as if I’d keep this to myself!).
And, most importantly, I didn’t touch my little clittie.
Now I know what it feels like to be “all dressed up with nowhere to go.”
And I loved it.
It’s so strange, because for me, dressing up as taylah has usually associated with some kind of sexual stimulation, whether it’s merely the sensation of masturbation, coming to the edge of orgasm, or indeed actually having an orgasm. It’s happened so often, and for such a long period of time, that I now have subconsciously associated “sissification” with “sexual pleasure”.
Only this time, it didn’t happen.
Imagine getting excited to go on holiday. You go through the whole process: you pack your bags, making sure your luggage is under the weight allowance. You organise your passport, you make sure everything is ready, you make it to the airport, check in, and head to the departure lounge, knowing what’s coming next: that flight to your holiday destination.
Except no plane arrives.
You just wait in the departure lounge.
No fun times.
You just wait in the departure lounge for a while, before grabbing your bags, returning home, unpacking your bags, and packing everything away, still really wanting to go on holiday.
That’s a little like how it felt for me. Everything inside me wanted to pump away at my sissy clittie; to experience the sensastion of masturbation, feeling waves of pleasure rolling through my body; to work up to a release, before empty my sissy clittie of the cum that has been inside me for the last fifteen days of chastity.
But I didn’t.
And I loved it.
I loved having the chance to be a sissy without being able to focus on the sexual pleasure at the end. I didn’t have to focus on building up to a sensation; instead I could think about everyday things and focus on being a sissy.
I could think about what would be the sissiest, healthiest option to eat for breakfast. I enjoyed sitting down as a sissy to enjoy breakfast; to notice the makeup coming off my lips and ending up all over my cereal spoon. I could reapply my makeup; add to it, enhance it, add an extra layer. (Before you ask, only Mistress gets to see those photos!) I could think about where my feet should be positioned while I relaxed and watched some morning TV in my swimsuit.
I put a black dress on, and I fussed over how it should look and where it should be positioned.
I sat down in my dress and did computer work. I didn’t have to race through it; I just took my time, enjoying the ability to look down every now and then and see myself in a beautiful dress. I could decide I looked better in my swimsuit and take my dress off. I could decide I looked better in my dress and put it back on.
It was so refreshing, and it made me think of the “end goal”, if you will. The last thing I want is to be conditioned into thinking that sissification = sexual activity. In fact, what I really want is to spend so long dressed as a sissy that I disassociate the two.
Eventually, I’d love to be able to spend 24 hours a day, 7 days a week as a sissy, and it’s simply not possible to spend that whole time experiencing sexual gratification. Much of my daily life would involve doing regular, everyday things, despite being dressed as a sissy.
And now that I’ve come to this realisation, I can’t wait.