I have an affinity to beautiful birds. I like that the males have such extravagant plumage. And yet there is more that draws me to them.
Consider this. The cage, for most of us a symbol of constrained freedom, for birds is something more. I have opened the door of a cage and watched as they escape and find freedom. Can you imagine that moment, a loved pet fleeing to freedom through the opened cage door. A moment of panic, and then they are gone through an open window. All that fondness and happy memories gone in a flutter of wings.
And two hours later, as I look at the cage, there he is once more. Silently returning to his captivity. A warm sensation of relief in my tummy. Yet, it’s more than relief. It’s a sense of rewarded trust, for I left that door open quite willingly.
I trusted. And aren’t all good relationships based on trust?
Well, this is a story of trust. I think you will enjoy it. Perhaps so much so that you will play along with me. I will ask you to make this an interactive story.
That’s right, you can join in. I wonder if you dare. Well, there’s the opportunity for me to trust you… Let’s see how you do. Are you ready to play? I hope you’ll feel inclined to use the comments section in this post to let me know.
Mistress Katia Thornwood.
The Lovers – By Katia Thornwood.
Those of you who have been following me for a while know about Paulo, the sentimental poet, who got a little too lost in the compelling world of his Mistress. I am, as you know, all about balancing extremes, and so you can imagine my delight when the sorry little fellow finally got himself a girlfriend – Fern. An actual woman.
And it wasn’t his usual thing. Worshiping some completely unattainable woman from afar, and languishing in his own pathetically amusing pain. Such a typical poet. It’s a pity he has so much of the poet’s nature and so little of the poet’s talent. Not to worry though, his role is to suffer. Regardless, Fern is a real flesh and blood woman.
The other night Bernard was being uncharacteristically quiet at the table in the restaurant, with my friends and I enjoying the New Year celebrations. Sylvester and Ali were laughing. I remember, particularly, as I was explaining that while in Australia last year, between photoshoots, I had been diving and had been describing the various merits of the sea cucumber. Bernard had been on the trip, though since his transplant has not been doing much diving.
We were enjoying a wonderful meal at a restaurant in the heart of Montreal which served favorite dishes from around the world. Sebastian had ordered the German Sausage, and shared some of it with Bernard. The succulent meat was exquisitely prepared, and Bernard tucked into it with gusto.
That was when I noticed Bernard changing color. “Are you alright?” I asked. When there came no reply I felt a wave of panic sweep over me. It’s only a few short weeks since Bernard’s operation.
If you’re a regular reading of my material you’ll know that Amanda is not my favorite person on the planet. It was only as a favor to my wife that I invited her to join us for dinner. My wife is on one of her trips. This is a charitable one, I believe. If I remember rightly she’s feeding the hungry in Africa, or something. Maybe it’s the Africans in Hungary. It’s so hard to keep track of her. She has such a big heart. Before leaving on her mission of mercy she had made me promise to take Amanda out with us for dinner on New Years eve.
I remember very vividly, as that night I had chosen to wear a mid blue evening dress, with a bodice that laced up behind, and matching blue heels. The blue was a very particular shade, and as I watched Bernard he gradually changed color to a matching hue.
“What on earth is the matter with Bernard,” I said and looked at Sylvester.
“Search me,” answered Sylvester.
Suddenly Amanda leapt to her enormous feet, and shouted “Heimlich manoeuvre!” For a woman of disturbing proportions she certainly can move swiftly. It reminded me of one of those National Geographic TV shows, about when hippos attack.
“Don’t worry,” she said to a terrified looking Bernard, who by now was clearly choking. “I’m a trained professional.”
I took a long sip of my wine, and said to Sylvester, “This should be interesting.”
Amanda was behind Bernard, wrapping her arms around him and began squeezing. Bernard shifted to a deeper shade of blue.
“That’s it Amanda, you need to reach around him,” said Sylvester.
“And then jerk him. You’ve got the idea,” I added helpfully. Amanda seemed to be thrusting powerfully with her hips, and Bernard looked increasingly alarmed.
A moment later his head jerked back and he coughed and his throat seemed to clear. I was most impressed by the whole thing. Amanda had indeed saved the day, and Bernard had made a new friend.
What a way to go into the New Year. So, if you feel like sharing, let me know what New Years Resolutions you plan to break this year.
I sincerely hope you are enjoying the news I share with you. You can participate and comment even more at http://FionaDobson.com
My goodness, if you could see what’s going on outside my window. I can hardly believe is! I’m standing here in my Christmas lingerie, and my heels, and quite shocked at what I can see going on out there!
Ali, my gardner has just told me, “It’s ok, Fiona. It’s just Sylvester and Max jacking off in the flower beds.”
Now, I know you can imagine me standing here in my flowing red silk robe, mouth open in surprise. I am staring out at the snowy Montreal scene, and everybody seems to be having a wonderful time! Oh, perhaps you should even be here!
Let me explain. I’m watching Sylvester’s muscle bound arm pumping up and down and Max, my next door neighbours 20 year old son laughing – I think he’s licking his fingers – yes, he’s spilled some Bailey’s Irish Cream on his hand, or at least I think that’s what it is. And Ali is watching, engrossed in the unfolding scene.
They’re laughing and very jolly, Sylvester’s face red with exertion, and he has a look of deep concentration. Apparently, Ali’s Smart Car slid off the drive in the snow as he pulled into the icy driveway. It slid into the flower bed, and onto a rock in the rockery. Max and Sylvester were already at my place enjoying a Christmas eve drink, and now the three of them are working away to lift the little vehicle off the rock and manhandle it back onto the drive. What Christmas excitement!
I should hurry along! Amanda, the queen of tweed will be here soon, and Bernard is coming over. My wife, sadly is travelling. She’s a slave to her job! In the meantime, we are a fun gang, all hoping that Christmas will go with a bang!
I know Sebastian wants to show me his mince pies and sausage. He has been making so many delightful treats lately.
I hope you have a lovely Christmas! Have a wonderful holiday and remember, be careful if you are driving in the snow. Otherwise you too might find yourself licking Irish cream from your fingers after jacking off in someone’s garden!
I’ve popped over to Fiona’s place to give her my diary entry. As luck would have it she’s having a little soiree and the liquor cabinet is unusually accessible. I’ve just dropped in to give Fiona this message.
So, as you may have guessed I am back from visiting St. Bernedette’s School For Gurls. You know, I do love to travel to South Africa, and life in the Natal foothills is really quite lovely. It’s a little like going back in time.
The post is still delivered by the nice young postman, and I often ride into the nearby town of Jabulani on horseback, along with Jack the handyman at the school. Jabulani is about five miles from the school, and a lovely ride in the Natal morning sunshine. The school has a small stable of a dozen horses. Every morning Jack and I would get some exercise taking one or two of the gurls and riding to town to bring back the fresh milk.
Those sultry mornings, with a little mist in the distance, climbing on the back of a well trained pony, and setting out across the veldt, it was quite beautiful. The gurls laughing and chasing along with me, Little Michaela, her ginger hair flowing behind her as we fly across the ground in the morning sun. Quite serene. And Jack the handyman trying to keep pace. He’s a little older, of course and we have to wait for him from time to time.
Once in the nearby village we’d put a few cartons of milk in our packs from the store, and then race back to the school stables. And of course finally we’d help Jack off his horse.
It all seems a million miles away from the cooler weather I have come back to. And Canada is really much more modern and genteel. Things in South Africa seem so much more, I suppose the word is ‘primal’. Everything is more literal and immediate. So, when one of the maids came to me and said they didn’t know what to do about the schools pet dog, ‘Cesar’ chasing after the postman every morning I pointed out that the best way to deal with that would obviously be to neuter him.
Well, as I explained to the poor man later, I had been referring to the dog when I said, ‘neuter him’. These things happen though. Best to move forward and not get bogged down in the details, though I do have some sympathy for the poor fellow.
How lovely it is to be back, though. My nieces and nephews have offered to help me get my Christmas tree up, and I’m looking forward to standing on a chair as my nephew Gerald looks up at me as I place a fairy on the top of the Christmas tree. How well dressed this tree really is. I suppose I should now turn my attentions to young Gerald.
How very kind he is to help me get it up. I’m sure, given the opportunity, you’d do the same.
But now I have to give this account to Max, who is going to post it online for me. He’s so much better at technology than I am. I shall go and sit on his knee and simper, it usually works with him, the little puppy! I’ll just stop off and refill my coffee cup with Bailey’s.
What a very strange Christmas it’s sure to be this year. Normally by now I would have enjoyed our Christmas Curling League, where I often help out at the local recreation centre. There’s few things I find more enjoyable that scoring with the boys in the club. I have all the statistics for the members, and often at this time of year I can be found scoring with their figures spread out on the desk. But this year, of course, it is all different. There’ll be no such group fun.
I had a message in my inbox today from one member who described the battle he’s having, unable to dress as family are around, and saying how very much he longed to transition.
It’s important not to let this weigh too heavily on you over Christmas. This is a time for relaxing and enjoying what’s left of a hard year. I think I can help though.
It will help you to understand that wanting to dress and wanting to transition are two different things. Some of us really do want to have a full transition, and perhaps that is somewhere in the future. However, there are also many of us who find comfort in the middle ground of the gender spectrum – sometimes feeling more femme and other times feeling a little more masculine. You can learn more about the gender spectrum in Jules and Lenni’s discussion here. https://fionadobson.com/finding-your-place-on-the-gender-spectrum-with-lenni-and-jules/
So, disconnecting the idea of dressing and transition is a positive move. It may well be that you will transition one day, but today you can enjoy dressing or not – as you wish. You may also find it helpful to consider that while you may not be able to be completely crossdressed, bringing a more androgynous look to your daily wardrobe will go a long way toward helping you feel comfortable, especially over the holidays. My Pinterest board on this may give you some ideas.
So, there’s a few things to think about. Most of all, though, choose to relax. This is part of your life that can bring you great joy if you allow it to. It doesn’t all happen overnight, though. Having patience is an essential part of trans life. After all, you’re changing your life, not just changing your underwear.
I’ll be online on http://FionaDobson.com chatting with members over the holidays, and of course answering messages and comments on my Patreon. I’d love to hear from you. I also know that Auntie Kittie, Mistress Meg and Katia Thornwood all have things on the way for our Patreon members. It’s likely to be a fun time online. Don’t forget the great Community page as well, where you can post pictures and connect with others.
Please remember over the Christmas period that keeping to a limited number of visitors, using a mask and maintaining social distancing is the surest way to help yourself and others to bring this pandemic to a close. This thing won’t be wrapped up until we learn to do that, so the sooner we start the better.
I hope you enjoy the video below. It’s by our wonderful friend Boggie and will give you a lift as we go into the days a head.
Preparations for Christmas festivities are creating an air of expectation and excitement around Huckleberry Close this morning, and I couldn’t help noticing that next door people seemed to be stopping by at my neighbor, Marjory’s house looking at the rather imposing Christmas decorations in front of her house. A truly excited sense of seasonal cheer has developed in our little community.
The children have had their last day of school, and inspite of the unseasonably warm weather they are playing in the street and throwing snowballs at one another and laughing. Indeed the festivities this morning spilled over in a rather unusual incident worth recalling. It all started with Auntie Kittie rolling into my kitchen at 9 am, a little bleary eyed, looking for coffee and advice.
“Fiona,” she said a little groggily. “I think I may be experiencing hallucinations.”
I did my best to calm her down, as she sat looking worried.
“I swear that Santa Claus in Marjory’s garden just flashed me,” she groaned as she shakily took the coffee I offered her.
I do so hope you’re getting ready for a lovely Christmas, even though this is going to be a Christmas quite unlike others we’ve shared. I know we’re going to spend a certain amount of time in front of screens rather than family, and I will likely be on the website chatting with members and friends. We will manage though.
In the meantime some of my more organised friends are getting ready for the New Year. I think it might be a little optimistic, but Marjory (who you will remember does well on the competitive eating circuit) is already going through her schedule for next year’s competitive eating events. It’s very competitive as you probably know. The organizers stage legs in various cities throughout the South. She is diligently trying to plan out next year’s schedule.
Inevitably it’s always at a time when Amanda is also very busy. However she usually manages to slip away from her demanding schedule at Pig And Pig Farmer a few times in the season to meet up with Marjory and give her a kiss between the legs.
But that’s not the main reason I am writing to you. I was most surprised this morning to look out of my back window and see Sylvester struggling up the back lane with a trailer behind his truck. Apparently, with all these restrictions on gatherings, the local church has taken the opportunity to do some much needed maintenance. Sylvester has helped by delivering some of their things to the company that services them.
Looking from my kitchen window I saw his truck approaching in the lane behind my house pulling an enormous trailer. I opened my window and called out to Sylvester, “What on earth do you have there, dear?”
“It’s the organ,” he replied. ‘I need to park it up while I get a tarpaulin. It looks like it might rain in a little while.”
“That’s OK,” I called down the lane. “Just leave it in my back passage.”
I hope he gets a tarpaulin for it quickly. It’s much better wrapped, I think. Parked there it will be fine for a couple of hours though, I think. What a very big heart Sylvester has, helping the church out like that. Rainbow has in the past offered yoga classes at the church, and when the members of the church council organised a collection for her, knowing she’s not got much work at present, they presented her with a handy and much needed windfall.
I asked her what she was planning to do with it, and she said she was very grateful to the gentlemen of the church council and that she was planning to blow the whole lot over Christmas. It seemed a rather unusual turn of phrase, I have to admit.
For those of you alone this Christmas I really do think you’d enjoy my Whatsapp Group. It provides a level of community connection many of us are missing in our lives. There’s an active group of crossdressing friends there and we’d welcome you as well. You can find all the details HERE. It’s much better than feeling alone over Christmas. Of course I also have a couple of other ways for you to connect and feel part of the community. You could join My Little Black Book, or simply join m y Patreon for $1 a month and use the Community page there. Don’t be alone this Christmas.
I will be writing again soon, but if you find yourself with a little time on your hands over the Christmas period, be sure to check out my Patreon. For those who don’t have much in the way of community around them, I would suggest you join my Whatsapp Group and connect with the lovely group of members who are chatting so nicely on there.
Many years ago… well, three years ago, I started writing the Fiona Dobson newsletters and blog. In the early ones I would embed a Youtube video now and then, that often touched in to the themes of the newsletters. That’s how the Fiona Dobson Playlist came in to being.
I add to it from time to time, even though I rarely include them in the mailings these days. Even so, it’s a fun addition and one I’m not likely to drop anytime soon. So, if you need a little lift, have some fun with this. I hope you enjoy it.
Before she was Maya, she was Markus. Growing up in small town Ontario, she always knew she didn’t identify with her assigned gender. It wasn’t until moving to Toronto and attending her first Trans pride march that she found the courage to finally begin her transition, a choice that ended up saving her life.
I am so pleased to thank all my lovely Seahorse members for their recent kind wishes to Stacey, who has been unwell with Covid. She is now recovering and will be back on her feet soon. In the meantime I can tell you some exciting news.
Katia Thornwood has a new series about to be released for all my members. Now, as you probably know Katia generally writes just for our treasured Seahorse members – those naughty boys and gurls who so desperately need a little extra discipline. However, in line with the Christmas season, she’s asked me to put this new series out to all my Patreon members. Her generosity knows no bounds (particularly when I am paying her wages).
Those of you who know Katia will realise she is quite a strict disciplinarian. She longs for the days of the past when the kindly local policeman, that everybody on the street knows, would give a recalcitrant teenager a clip round the ear as they were hauled off to the gallows. Now, of course, she applies a more impacting version of discipline all of her own. Her new series is called The Lovers and will enthrall all who read it.
What few people know is that Katia is also very keen on her tropical birds. She loves parrots and conures, and has been know to stroke a large cockatoo from time to time as well. Anyway, I know you’ll enjoy the upcoming series, The Lovers. If you’re not already a member just join as a Seahorse member for December at just $10 for the month to enjoy this great collection. What better way is there to make Christmas special?
I will be spending a little more time online this month, so if you’d like to check in with me just go to the site and you might find me there chatting through the site chat system. I love to connect with my gurls.
The text message which just landed on David’s phone read:
~ I’ll meet you at Larry’s Bar in town. 8pm. Don’t be late, Karen x
David tucked himself into his lilac cami-knickers before pulling on a pair of jeans and T shirt. There was just enough time to take off the crimson red nail polish before making his way to the bar to meet his friend.
It had been ages since Professor David Forbes had last seen Karen, and he was looking forward to catching up over a meal and a bottle of wine. They both studied at Cambridge and had dated for a while, but the sexual attraction inevitably morphed into platonic respect. Although Karen enjoyed a bit of kinky fun in the bedroom, her repertoire didn’t quite reach the heady heights of dating a cross-dresser. Of course, David at the tender age of nineteen hadn’t intended to reveal his dark side, his ‘Diana‘, to anyone at the university. Despite first acknowledging his feminine side when he was about sixteen, David’s relationship with Diana had still been very much at its experimental stage during his first year in Cambridge.
A compelling urge mixed with curious desire gave birth to many experiments—underwear, dresses, makeup—all strictly between David and the four walls of his student residence. Oh, and the full length mirror he had acquired for next to nothing from the local junk shop. There was just that one exception.
One evening, Karen had arrived at his room a full hour earlier than expected, only to catch him in mascara and lipstick, together with a black thong and matching cropped top. Shock, horror and yelling eventually gave way to heart-to-heart confessions. David would never deny who he was and who he wanted to be; Karen would never claim she could cope with that.
I am pleased to say that all the content here – in the Premium Program and in my Patreon – is designed to appeal to my friends of all adult ages.
A very significant portion of my membership are in their senior years. For many of us, it’s only then that we really know ourselves well enough to accept the feminine within us. I love my senior members.
By the way – don’t forget the great Fiona Dobson playlist for an immediate pick me up! Get to it HERE.
I’m so sorry I’ve not been available much this week. I’ve just got back from a brief expedition with Bernard my photographer. He had me out in his boat this week. What a salty little sea dog he is, whipping out his equipment at the least expected moment. He likes to do a little wildlife photography on the water.
For those of you who read my messages regularly, you’ll know that my wife’s childhood friend Amanda, is something of an unfortunately regular visitor to my house in Huckleberry Close. My wife, who is regrettably travelling at present in Bulgaria, or Belgravia… or was it Bolivia, insists I treat Amanda with kindness.
“If you love me,” she said before leaving last time, “you’ll be nice to Amanda.”
I understand that doesn’t include pretending not to be home when Amanda visits, telling her the party is at an obscure address in Poughkeepsie, or creating fake profiles with her picture on Grinder. So, I have to watch my step. All that said, when I arrived home the other day only to put down my bags and hear a knocking on the door I was surprised to see a very upset Amanda on the doorstep, swathed in her usual tweed.
Seeing she was clearly upset I invited her in.
“What on earth is the matter, darling,” I asked as I poured her a large glass of wine, and an appletini for myself.
For those of you who wish to learn more about the various people in my life, just drill down using the hotlinks in these emails. I usually put a link to all the tags mentioning them early in the email, so it’s not hard to learn more about any given person. Amanda appears a great deal, as does Sylvester and Sebastian. You’ll find it’s quite a rich world of personalities and situations.
Amanda, as you possibly know, is the editor of Pig and Pig Farmer. This pillar of the journalistic establishment has been described as the fourteenth most influential publication in the sphere of Pig and Pork production monthly periodicals. As you can imagine, this makes Amanda quite an influential voice in the world of pork.
“It’s work,” she said. “I just feel so… so… so overlooked.”
“Why on earth is that,” I asked.
“It’s these bloody men! They’ve passed me over once more. I was hoping to be made group editor this year. I just feel I have so much more to offer,” she said between sobs. “And now they made Jed Richardson group editor and he’s barely been with the company three years.”
“Don’t worry,” I said trying to hug her and keep socially distanced. To do so I’d have to be an orangutan, I suppose, but I tried to show some human kindness. I know what you’re thinking. I give too much of myself to others – I know. Well, it’s just who I am, I suppose.
“I know it must seem terribly unfair,” I said. “These things happen. Don’t worry. Perhaps he’ll have an unfortunate accident, or something. You never know when fate is going to play a hand.”
“But it’s such an insult, being passed over again. It’s like I’ve hit a glass ceiling,” she said between sobs, pushing her face between my breasts.
I have to say the estrogen regime has done a great deal to help me comforting those that lean on me. You just can’t beat breasts!
“The workplace is a very unfair place,” I said to Amanda. “If it doesn’t feel right, you should just tell them where to shove their job.”
“In this economy?” she replied. And she did have a point.
“I remember all the trouble Sylvester had years ago when he was looking for a career in healthcare,” I said. “He got fired from that centre where they do the long term care for people with leprosy.”
“He worked in a leper colony?” said Amanda perking up a little.
“Well, they don’t call it that now,” I replied. “It’s some sort of long term care facility. Anyway, he started a poker school for some of the patients and ended up getting fired over it. Apparently someone threw their hand in, and lost their head. It was all very distasteful. Anyway, you know what a sweetheart he is. Employers are usually completely insensitive and out of touch. You just have to learn to take their money and keep on smiling.”
Amanda looked at me doubtfully.
“I suppose I do get some good perks,” she replied. “The bacon, and stuff. And I get to go to Porkers every year.”
“Porkers?” I said.
“It’s the Pig farming convention,” she explained. I should add that there is an irony here. Amanda is currently in a relationship with our next door neighbor, Marjory, who is quite a big noise on the competitive eating scene. https://majorleagueeating.com/ She is apparently accomplished in the sausage category, which seems unusual, with her being a lesbian and everything. Anyway, there’s Amanda growing the stuff, and Marjory wolfing it down. I can’t help thinking there’s a joke somewhere in there about Amanda firming it up and Marjory swallowing… well, you get the idea.
“Look,” I said comforting Amanda. “You have to remember, there’s a lot of people down at that paper who look at you with admiration. They’ve watched you from behind their desks as you’ve climbed higher and higher, and eventually burst through that glass ceiling, in a shower of glass and workplace discrimination. I mean, come on! You’re the first women to edit Pig and Pig Farmer in the history of pig journalism. And all those other people are left below in a pile of glass, looking up at… at… your crack. The crack you left in the ceiling.”
Amanda’s shoulder’s heaved and she sobbed again.
“Really, Amanda,” I said. “You know it’s no measure of who you are. We all admire your crack. The way you’ve opened things up.”
I had the distinct feeling I wasn’t helping. At that moment Marjorie’s F150 pulled up next door and I heard her boots on the gravel path. I let out a sigh of relief and Amanda pulled away and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.
“I’d better go,” she said. “I don’t want Marjory to see me like this.”
So, this week as we move further into a difficult time in the workplace for many of us, I’d like to take the opportunity to remind all my lovely friends that you are not defined by your work. It’s good to remind ourselves from time to time that our work is only a small part of who we are. We work to support our life, we don’t live to support our work.
I should say, I’ve been very fortunate. Having worked in the press, I can honestly say I’ve been fired by some of the finest papers in the world. To be honest, when I was in the press world that was practically a recommendation, and no one was considered very serious if they hadn’t been fired from one or two papers. I’ve even been hired back by a few, too. I think things are a lot different today, though not particularly better. Times change. For those of us who are gender fluid, keeping things in perspective is important. Workplace discrimination is a pretty serious and massively prevalent issue. We have to learn to laugh, and have patience. Being trans sure teaches us that. But we’re still here. And we aren’t going anywhere.
Have a lovely week, and don’t let Covid get you down. I must say, my good friend and Prime Minister of Canada, Justin gave a good speech yesterday. I think we would all do well to listen to him – regardless of where we call home. Which reminds me, I think he’s still got my copy of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. He always leaves the pages of books I lend him with the corners turned down. I’ve given him no end of bookmarks, but what can you do!