I didn't want to go back to my lampjust yet. I wasn't feeling the least bit tired. I definitely didn'tneed a power recharge.Other than me being a geni..., the four of us just weren't all thatdifferent. We'd all been born male, but I certainly didn't think myurges were any weaker than theirs. Not only that, but they'd all hadtheir new itches scratched. But then, the Mistress had never been tooconsiderate of the needs of others. I was very disappointed with her,but she was who was she was. "Yes,. ‘Oh that’s okay – we’ll show you...’ and with that she got up, went over to the cupboard and brought back..... a strap-on !! She put it on, got some lube and the pointed to the table (the location of which was now apparent!). Tom got up, went over and bent over it. Carol got into position, lubed both the dildo and Tom’s arse and then pushed the strap-on slowly into his arse. Tom let out a panting noise as it went in, but he obviously liked it. Fiona and I looked at each other. She had a glint. Her skirt was about six inches above her knees and as she walked toward me on four inch heels I had a hard time tearing my eyes away from those legs to look at a chest that had to be at least a 36C. I made up my mind to stall because I didn't get to see anything this nice very often. I took out my wallet and dug out my driver's license and insurance card, but she showed no sign of doing the same as she walked up to me. She glanced at the front of her vehicle and at the back of mine and said,. How you wantto be. You WANT to walk through that door, into your confirmed femininity.You understand the power of lipstick and the thrill of a perm. For you,lucky sisters, a Beauty Salon has become a home, a verification of yourinnate womanhood. Bless you. And Bless the women who accept you as one oftheir sisterhood as you sit under the dryer having your nails polished.For others of you, Forced Sissies of Fictionmania, that door into thatBeauty Salon signals a humiliation about to happen. Every.
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