The Dating Game – Part 3 – By Mollie Blake.

A Singapore Sling

In the third part of Mollie’s story we continue to follow David, or ‘Diana’ and Lucy. Part 1 can be found here.

“You’ve got a free trip to Singapore? You lucky sod!”

David’s best friend, Lucy, had him chuckling into his phone. “Yeah, but hey! I have to work for it.”

“Work, my arse! You’re just gonna chat about your precious topic on some quantum physics shite, and then have a ball with whoever’ll fondle yours for you.”

“Fat chance of that with Singapore’s lack of LGBT rights. Anyway, I’m scheduled to give three lectures with Professor Amanda Lo. I’ll be flying home before I know it.”

David cast a quick glance at the sleek turquoise gown hanging on the back of the door. At the very least he planned on having an evening out, just for himself, with the chance to be who he wanted to be.

“You’re just jealous.” He laughed, relaxed now that he was almost ready to leave his apartment for five days. “I promise I’ll bring you something back.”

“It had better not be chlamydia.”

“Ha bloody ha.”

Continue reading “The Dating Game – Part 3 – By Mollie Blake.”

Women who love to feminize their men.

She’s just waiting for you to unleash her.

The many women who love to feminize their men can now enjoy FionaDobson.com even more. I’ve recently started a new Premium Program just for my lovely women members.

If you’d just like to try the basic program for women you can do so free here.

In the meantime there’s still all the wonderful content from Mistress Meg about women who feminize their men.

For the best in step by step guidance on feminizing your man be sure to check out my program.

Smart cars, and gardening.

First of all I’d like to say that I hope you are loving my programs. We have over 2500 gurls enjoying my helping hand… Wait, that sounds a little wrong. If you are not already in one of the programs you should sign up today.  Anyway, I thought I’d share what I’ve been getting up to this week.

With all this sunshine I’ve been spending a lot of time in the garden and at the beach. I do love to sail, and Bernard’s boat is finally in shape. It’s so good to live in a city in which the outdoor lifestyle I love is so accessible.

My gardener, Ali Ibrahim, pulled into my drive way in his Smart Car this Tuesday. He’s been doing some topiary in my garden. With him was Sylvester, my mechanic. Now, Sylvester is a very large man and seeing him struggle out of Ali’s tiny car was rather like watching a man get out of an overcoat that is three sizes too small for him.

“I had no idea you knew Ali,” I said to Sylvester.

“I don’t. He gave me a ride from the highway. My truck broke down, again! Very kind of your friend Mr. Ibrahim to pick me up.”

The irony of this was not lost on me.

tumblr_o7psnopCet1uxh3kao1_500Sylvester was speaking very slowly, so Ali would understand him. So slowly, actually, that one might assume he thought Ali had some extreme form of learning disability. Sylvester was, of course, unaware that Ali had been a professor in a university in Damascus until fleeing the country and finding his way to Canada.

“He just pulled over and offered me a lift, and it turned out we were both coming to your place.”

“How fortuitous,” I said. Sylvester was looking a little dubiously at Ali, who in turn was smiling happily, as is his nature.

Sylvester took me aside and looking a little worried said “he keeps saying he can’t get his whores in his car.”

“Yes,” I said. “It’s very small.”

“Car no good for hoes,” said Ali, catching my eye, and nodding and smiling happily.

“Yes, Ali. I’m sure,” I said smiling.

I turned to Sylvester and said, “Ali is struggling a little with his English, but I think he’s trying to tell you that he doesn’t like the smart car because he can’t put his rakes and hoes and spade in the back. He’s got his small tools for working in the garden, but his large tools get… stuck. But you’d know all about that.”

Sylvester sniggered and turned to Ali and said, “Hoes, eh? Well come by my shop in the morning, ok?”

Ali smiled his enormous smile and nodded enthusiastically.

When Ali showed up at my place the yesterday to continue his work on remodelling my bush he came with the most extraordinary collection of tools on the back of his Smart Car. Sylvester had given him a nice new gun rack, salvaged from a car that had been written off.

Ever the inventive soul, Ali had fitted it and now uses it to carry his hoes and rakes and larger tools. And we all like larger tools.

But that’s not the main reason I am writing. I am thrilled to say I have a few spaces available in our Whatsapp Group.  You can find all the details here, if you like chatting with other CDs.

Come on in and join the fun.

🙂

Fiona

The Dating Game – Part 2 – By Mollie Blake.

In the second part of Mollie’s story we continue to follow David, or ‘Diana’ and Lucy. Part 1 can be found here.

Wax Lyrical

David ripped the last length of wax from his leg, wincing only slightly and pressing his hand against the newly smoothed skin to relieve the sting.

A broad smile smile stretched across his face as he remembered his first encounter with a spatula of wax and strip of tape.

000

David shot bolt upright on the makeshift massage table. “Fucking hell! That hurt!”

There was no compassion from the sadist already applying another strip of hot wax—was Lucy sure it had to be this hot?—to the next stretch of hair on his leg.

Waxing makes all the difference.

This was a bad idea. Why didn’t he just stick to the black leggings? They felt good on him, beneath the grey chiffon dress.

“Come on, don’t be a wuss. Are you gonna’ man up to be the woman of your dreams?”

“Argh!” Wince, wince. Maybe he’d just have one leg done today, the other next week?

But Lucy’s torture was relentless. “Keep still, or I’ll have to go over that bit again.”

David could hear the taunting in her voice. For a petite five foot nothing slip of a lass she was a formidable character. It would make her day to keep him here all afternoon, subjected to burning pain, followed by everlasting smarting.

Continue reading “The Dating Game – Part 2 – By Mollie Blake.”

Auntie Kittie’s great big chest.

I’ve been sorting a few things out in my house for summer, and as I have no doubt you can imagine in this heat I’ve found a little help from my nephews helps a great deal. Moving some of the furniture to give my place a lighter and more spacious feel has made it so much nicer in the heat.

In my living room is my husbands old sea chest, one of my last mementos of the dear man. He disappeared in the south seas many years ago, though I don’t really like to talk about it. Needless to say, as a widow I do like to keep some of his things about the place, even if it has been 25 years since he went beyond his last horizon. I used to put a few photographs of him and his shipmates on it all arranged nicely in their frames, but they’re all packed away now.

“Goodness, Auntie,” said my nephew Gerald. “You really do have a big chest,” trying to move it.

“Ah, yes,” I replied. “And not so very long ago it was covered in seamen.”

Continue reading “Auntie Kittie’s great big chest.”

The Dating Game – Part 1 – by Mollie Blake

I am thrilled to introduce you to Mollie Blake, a wonderful writer from England’s west country. In this, her first piece for FionaDobson.com she’s going to lead you through a story telling the tantalizing crossdressing story of a date night to remember. You can find more of her stories at MollieBlake.com

The Dating Game – by Mollie Blake

Find all episodes of The Dating Game HERE.

“Professor Forbes, I’ve got a…er…Lucinda de Vilish on the phone for you.”

David glanced up to check his office door was closed. “Thanks, Edwina. Put her through.”

“Professor Forbes. This is Lucinda de Vilish.”

Before responding he waited for the “click” to make sure his inquisitive secretary had put her phone down. “Lucy. You’ve rung me at work! This had better be a matter of life or death.”

“Well, hi, David. How nice to hear from you! And it is a matter of life, and my future happiness.”

“So what’s that then?”

“I’ve set us up on a double date.”

“A double date?” The frown David had been wearing for most of the day so far, slowly morphed into a broad smile. He pressed his hand over the top of his dark grey trousers.

“Oh, come on! You know you want to. It’ll be fun. I met this guy and his friend in the bar last night. I said we’d see them tonight. At Don Antonio’s, your favourite Italian. You can pick me up at 7.30…and David, I’m relying on you. 7.30 okay?”

“What if I’ve got plans—”

The line had gone dead.

Who was he kidding anyway? Lucy knew he didn’t have plans. During semesters, the only thing he had going on was teaching a bunch of students about quantum technology. He focused on the report he had been writing with renewed zest—his day had just got better.

  Continue reading “The Dating Game – Part 1 – by Mollie Blake”

It’s important to get one’s priorities right.

I had just disconnected from a Zoom meeting with a client who was looking at rebranding his chain of laundries when Ali, my Syrian gardener, arrived for his English lesson.  I have been concerned about his use of English and offered to help him as best I could. The Trimark Laundry Company would have to wait for their report about renaming their stores.

Have you read Julie’s story yet? The Sweet Stench Of Revenge.

As a busy advertising account executive I find I do have to prioritise my private life. If Mr. Skid of the Trimark Laundry Company expected to be prioritized over my own personal interests he was very much mistaken.

I spend a half hour each day helping Ali to advance his use of English.

“So you see, Ali,” I explained, “using capitalization properly can completely change the meaning of a sentence. For example, ‘I was helping my cousin Jack off his horse…”

At that very moment the door swung open and Bernard bustled into the kitchen.

“Goodness,” I said. “You gave me a start, Bernard. What on earth’s the matter?”

“I’ve got a leak,” he said hurriedly.

“Well, you know where the bathroom is,” I replied.

“No. It’s the boat.  I need to go and pump it out.  It seems to be taking on water.”

I should explain. Bernard keeps a small sloop in the mariner near Huckleberry Close.

“Well, can I help with anything? Biscuits perhaps?” I got up to put the kettle on.

“No. We have to get down there right away. I wondered if you and Ali could help out,” he said.

“Of course,” I replied reaching for my new London Look lipstick. I wouldn’t want to be caught out in a sinking boat without a nice shade, and went to find a nice pale pink sweater.

“It’s just that I need someone to help pump it out.”

I remembered the hours I’d spent onboard pumping my arm up and down seemingly for hours on a previous occasion. Anyone who’s been around boats will know this feeling. Up down, up down, and up down. And all to drain the scuppers.

“Oh, I’m sure I can help with that.”

“Can I come too,” piped up Ali.

“Of course,” said Bernard. “The more the merrier!”

What a fun morning we had.  And all because Bernard’s worm gear clamp had not been properly adjusted. I admit this does sound rather more like something in Mistress Meg’s realm than mine. Which brings you to the main reason I’m writing today. I put out a lovely story for my all my members this week – The Long Game.  And true to form Mistress Meg has released one of her great self hypnosis files. You can find Mistress Meg’s Denial self hypnosis here.  You’ll need to be a Seahorse member to access it and if you’ve not already done so you can do so here.

Now, I have to go and massage my bicep. All that pumping is quite exhausting.  However, at least Bernard’s boat is all shipshape now.

Have a lovely week.

😊

Fiona

Is that a carrot in your cycling shorts or are you just pleased to see me?

With the fine weather comes the chance to wear more exciting clothes. I love to get into a mini skirt in the summer. And equally the sun brings out the more eccentric dressing styles.

Not least among these are my friends that cycle. Seeing Sebastian cycling up the road to my quiet house in Huckleberry Close is both a curious and disturbing sight. While my bicycle has a very pretty wicker basket and I added a few pink tassels for style to the handlebars, Sebastian prefers a more sporty style. Crouched over the handle bars he looks like nothing so much as he’s being prepared for a very sporty mobile enema.

“You look so athletic,” I mentioned to Sebastian as he dismounted. “But where do you put your shopping?”

He looked a little disdainfully at me and then said, “I cycle for my body, not my shopping.”

I felt a little as though I had been put in my place, but replied, “Well, those pants look as though you pushed your vegetable order down them.”

I feel strangely liberated commenting on others clothing, as I glide across the grass wearing a bright lemon pleated skirt and pale blue tee shirt. I should try not to be unkind to Sebastian. And it has to be said that his vegetable order is nothing if not plentiful.

He shifted awkwardly as I chatted. But that does rather neatly bring the subject onto food and soon it will be time for the Huckleberry Close summer party. We usually each bring a dish, and everybody shares in the wide diversity of food often from our own cultures. This year I am preparing boerewors, a lovely South African sausage dish with Sebastian’s help. Now there really is a man who knows his way around a sausage. Auntie Kittie is making a lovely Pavlova, and so I asked Ali what he would be making.

“I was thinking of a Syrian soup, Shakriya. It’s lamb with yoghurt,” he said.

“That does sound delightful,” I said excited to try some new dishes.

“Is Sylvester bringing anything?” asked Ali.

“I think he’ll do what he usually does and bring a simple tart.”

“Oh,” replied Ali. “He’s met someone then?”

I do wonder about Ali. Sometimes I think he understands more English than he says.

But that’s not the main reason I’m writing to you this week. I have posted some great content this week. As we move into our ‘post Patreon’ development I am moving content over to the website all the time. Mistress MegMax and even http://fionadobson.com/dating-intimacy/ have been beavering away in my kitchen, posting and writing content to add to http://FionaDobson.com. For my Seahorses Mistress Meg has added some new content in the series about Stories Your Mother Never Told You, and of course I’ve posted some content for all my members about being outed to my children, and of course we now have all the released episodes of Clothes Maketh The Man posted up and available to all. You can get them here. And this weekend we posted The Long Game, a two part story that anyone who had a sister who dressed them will appreciate.

Don’t forget, now that Patreon has gone downwind your membership, even at the $1 a month level, is greatly appreciated. You can find the various levels here.

Have a delightful week. I know Mistress Meg will be posting some hypnosis files this week, so we have that to look forward to, and I think the next episode of Clothes Maketh The Man should land in the next few days.

😊

Fiona

http://FionaDobson.com

Join for just $1 a month.

The Long Game. Part 2.

I said nothing, instead staring at my feet. She sat quietly on the bed, and motioned me to sit beside her. I did so, doubtful of her good intentions, but aware that this was surely better than the beating she could so easily have resorted to.

“Now, tell me the truth. Did you do it because it feels nice?”

I continued to look at my feet, but nodded silently. I couldn’t face her.

“Well, at least we have the truth, now.”

She put her arm around my shoulders. Her body was warm and soft, and she said softly, “Michael, you’re not the first young man to put on panties. It’s ok, you know.”

Continue reading “The Long Game. Part 2.”

The Long Game. Part 1.

A young boy is caught crossdressing.

The long game.

My step sister would intentionally pose provocatively, knowing I was watching.

I was twelve years old when my step sister caught me.  I was in her room, returning her panties. She was older than me, a beautiful 19 and fully a woman. I stood in her room, guiltily holding her red silky panties.

Inside I could feel the tears welling up. I was confused, and had been taking her panties now and then, unsure why, but enjoying pulling them on and posing in front of the big mirror in my mother’s room, when the house was empty.

“I should tell your mommy, you know. It would break her heart, of course,” she said condescendingly. “You wouldn’t care about that though. Why would you care for other people’s feelings, if you think it’s ok to creep around taking their clothes.”

Continue reading “The Long Game. Part 1.”

I was ‘outed’ to my kids by my stalker.

I would like to say it was a morning like any other. I would like to say I didn’t receive a string of texts from friends and family asking if what they were reading on line were true. I would like to say I wasn’t being outed by my stalker.

But we don’t always get what we want, do we?

Instead that morning, as I drove to work I made an awkward phone call to my son and asked, “So what are you seeing online?”

“Some weird guy says you’re a crossdresser. He say’s a load of stuff.”

I avoided sliding the car into the oncoming traffic and said, my voice a little strained, “And what did you say back?”

Continue reading “I was ‘outed’ to my kids by my stalker.”

The Stories Your Mother Never Told You. – Mistress Meg.

There are stories which we choose not to share, for one reason or another. Perhaps it is related to shame or embarrassment. Or maybe we just hold them so dear, that in sharing them they would become devalued.

One of my visitors recently brought a rather unusual collection of note books with him when he came into my studio. He was an elderly man. I will not give many details as I do not wish to identify him in any way.

Wrapped in brown paper of the sort people used for parcels many years ago, these note books were dusty handwritten relics. I can well imagine them being tossed out with the trash when someone moved house, or recycled along with old copies of magazines when clearing out a loft or basement.

My visitor explained that they were among his mother’s personal papers in her house which he had inherited years earlier. For the purposes of this document we will name her ‘Valerie’. The papers had never really been sorted through as there was nothing of much importance there. Valerie had been well organised and secured all the financial documents with the family lawyer.

You will understand then that the contents of these papers were at first a mystery, then quite surprising — and ultimately quite shocking. The following is an edited version, mostly to protect the innocent, or not so innocent, and partly to keep the identity of my visitor confidential.

I would estimate the contents to have been written variously between about 1955 and 1973. I can only assume Valerie’s notebooks were written for her own satisfaction, or perhaps to one day share with someone completely unconnected with the events portrayed.

All that said, as you will doubtless see, the contents help explain her son’s unusual tastes in his personal entertainment. I should say that once he discerned the nature of the content he immediately stopped reading, having barely read the first few pages. At first he was unsure what to do with the material, even thinking of burning the precious documents. He said they made him profoundly uncomfortable.

My own interest was not so easily deflected. After studying the notebooks I decided on a rather different course. His particular interest was to be dressed and made to perform a number of humiliating tasks. Dressed as a young girl and forced to perform the duties (and personal services) suited to a young girl, he found a secret pleasure that surmounted anything else he had ever experienced. My assistant Stacy and I were always pleased to see him.

Over the coming weeks I would often have him perform certain tasks, culminating with him being made to stand in the corner, on pain of a firmly applied spanking, and then listen to stories read variously by myself or Stacy. The stories of course, were the contents of his mother’s note books.

Valerie had such a lovely expressive style. Really, it was a delight to read to my visitor. Watching him squirm, unable to ‘unhear’ his mothers lascivious words was a delightful form of mental torture, of the kind I find simply delightful.

So, having witnessed the profound affect these writings had on my visitor, I am now pleased to be able to share them with you. I should warn you this writing are what today we would describe as Not Safe For Work.

I hope you will forgive some of the editing. It’s been done to protect others, and wherever possible I’ve
maintained the spirit of this extraordinary lady’s words.

Mistress Meg.

Continue reading “The Stories Your Mother Never Told You. – Mistress Meg.”