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.”

Max’s choice of last words.

The other morning I walked into my kitchen and immediately knew something was wrong. I should explain that my morning yoga is a sacred time for me, and I let nothing interrupt it. I’m only ready to start the day once I feel grounded and settled.

I usually follow my morning yoga with some tea, and a piece of toast, so I was surprised to find a deputation of some of my team waiting for me as I entered the kitchen.

“An odd choice of last words, Max,” said Mistress Meg.

Max, Katia and Mistress Meg fell silent as I entered. I glanced at them, and walked over to the kettle and put it on. To say the atmosphere was tense was an understatement.

“Well,” I said. “What are you all looking so worried about? Has someone died?”

Max, who was backed up against the wall looking a little scared, was the first to speak.

“Meg wants to hang me up by my…” he faltered.

Then Mistress Meg cut in, “I want to hang him by his wrists and have Stacy give him a damned good strapping.”

Katia just looked angry.

“What on earth’s going on,” I asked. “Max, tell me what’s the matter.”

Now, perhaps you remember that Max is my neighbour’s twenty year old son, and looks after much of the technology side of the work I do. There’s a surprising amount of work running the blog. He also manages my Patreon and a few other things, including entering Auntie Kittie’s content. He’s our tame techie.

“It’s Patreon,” he said and everyone fell silent.

“Oh yes. They recently named me as one of their top adult writing creators, didn’t they?”

“Yes, they’ve done very well from your Patrons. You’d think they…”

“Tell her what they’ve done, Max. Stop blabbering,” said Meg.

Max, who by now was close to tears, turned to Mistress Meg and said, “You’re not the boss of me! I’m just doing my best. You can’t tell me what to do!”

Mistress Meg picked up a breadknife, rubbed her thumb against the blade and then said menacingly, “Odd choice of last words, Max.”

“I think perhaps we should all calm down,” I said gently. “Now, Max let’s sit in my study and see what’s the matter.”

I took Max through to my study, usually my sanctuary away from others, and sat him down on the couch. His eyes were brimming over, and a tear ran down his cheek.

“It’s ok, Max. Just tell me what the trouble is.”

“We’ve been kicked off Patreon. They say our content is too adult.”

“What? Make up tips and hypnosis?” I said looking a little shocked. “Or was it that joke you said I should take out?”

“You mean the one about stuttering?”

“Yes, where I said that jokes about speech impediments were a big big ‘no no’?”

“No,” he replied. “I pulled that out before we posted that piece.  It’s more Mistress Meg and Katia’s content. They say it’s too adult and they don’t want it on their servers. But that’s not the worst of it.”

“Really? What else is there?”

“We have hundreds of members there. And they’re not going to be happy. And Mistress Meg and Katia depend on the revenue from there,” he said clearly upset. “I’ve let them down. And I think Mistress Meg might want to do something horrible to me.”

“Mistress Meg does horrible tings to people all the time. It’s sort of her thing,” I said softly. “I won’t let her do anything to you, don’t you worry. She just want’s to look after the Seahorses.”

“I didn’t mean to get us kicked. Really. I thought we were ok, but they’ve just clamped down.”

“Don’t worry, Max,” I said soothingly. “We’ll take care of Patreon. If we have to be off it then I’m sure our members will understand. We got along just fine without Patreon before, remember? We’ll just have to accommodate the members on the website.”

I thought about it for a moment and then said to Max, “Mistress Meg is just concerned because her writing is more edgy. She probably thinks it really her fault.  None of this is anyone’s fault. Patreon are just trying to be careful.”

Max looked a little awkward for a moment and then added, “Well, there’s more to it than that. I was thinking of saying we should get off it anyway.  Some people feel it’s a bit of a scam. You should see the review of it.

“Well, if that’s the case then we should get off it anyway. They’ve done us a favor. I want the best for my members,” I said.

Max stared into he distance and then said, “I can build a membership system on the site. We can ask Patrons to switch over. That way you can chat to them when they visit the site, using that chat window you use some evenings.”

“I love chatting with them,” I said. “Now, I’d better go and calm down Meg and Katia. Don’t you worry about a thing. It’s not your fault.”

And with that I left and went out to the kitchen. It didn’t take long to calm down Meg and Katia.

“We’re just going to build a membership system on the blog instead,” I told them. “Besides that way we can service them much better. Patreon has never been that great. I know people can’t find half the content you write, because their navigation is so outdated.”

Katia cut in, “You’re right. Someone wrote to me the other day saying they couldn’t navigate properly in their app. Half the time it doesn’t work properly.”

“Now, let’s not be unkind to Max. He’s going to have our website updated in a few days with a bunch more content for our members and we’ll let everyone know exactly how to switch over to our website,” I said. “Besides, it gives us an opportunity to do more on the website itself, rather than someone else’s platform. We can do even more cool things for our members.”

And that’s why I’m writing to you today. This has given us the great opportunity to improve the way we serve up content. It’s also a heads up that Clothes Maketh The Man is soon going to be served entirely free. You probably know that the first 24 episodes are currently free, but that subsequent episodes have only been available on Patreon. Well, I’ll be making them freely available on FionaDobson.com in the next couple of days.

Now, if you’re a Patron you’ll need to subscribe to one of the services here to continue your membership – and I want you to know how very much I appreciate each of you that does so. And if you’d just like to support the work my little team and I do then you can simply join for $1 a month in my Good Gurls membership here. You know how very much I appreciate each and every one of my members, and over the years we’ve overcome hurdles like this plenty of times.

If you’d like to tell Patreon what you think of their decision to throw us off their platform, don’t let me stop you. You can email them here: platform-support+id1217903@patreon.zendesk.com – It won’t change their decision but it might remind them that they’re a bunch of homophobic self righteous dicks.

Don’t worry. This isn’t going to stop us delivering the very best crossdressing content, just as I always have. Now, I have to hide the cooking sherry. I can see Auntie Kittie coming up the drive, and if I don’t she’ll be here all night.

Have a lovely week.

😊

Fiona

Mistress Meg wants to discuss the voices in your head.

As the voices tease you and taunt you, you realise you can’t fight them. You have to submit.

Finding you crossdressing, and ripping your blouse open I can only say I reveal you as you are. It’s time for you to stop pretending to be a man and to discover the real you. The ‘you’ that talks inside your head. Mistress Meg

There are voices in your head.  They tell you how you want to wear panties and feel the softness of feminine clothes. And they’re getting stronger.

In this powerful self hypnosis exercise you will learn to accept the voices in your head. You will learn to comply with them. This brief hypnosis file should be used every night, and then loaded to your phone for use at intervals during the day.

Soon your feminization will be complete. Try the hypnosis file below and listen to it nightly for a week. Then let me know how you’re enjoying it.

Mistress Meg.

Find more Mistress Meg by joining the Seahorse Level.

Are you ready to learn all about Mistress Meg’s Secret Pleasures?

As you probably know, Mistress Meg looks after my Seahorses. These are members who require a little encouragement to dress. There’s no knowing just how compelling a good spanking can be – but some of my more reluctant members require this form of gently applied discipline.

She’ll lead you, while you’re unable to resist, deeper and deeper into a state of compliance and subjugation. You’ll enjoy her softness and the powerlessness you experience as she toys with you. Mistress Meg now has a special page HERE.

Both Katia Thornwood and Mistress Meg are always keen to assist in this department. By joining my Patreon as a Seahorse you get content designed to encourage these very special members. Once you’ve joined you’ll have access to all these posts and many more. If you’d like to learn more about Mistress Meg’s secret pleasures be sure to check her special page out. Be aware, some of the content here is quite adult.

You can use the button below to join my Patreon as a Seahorse for just $10 a month.

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Staff Trouble – Mistress Meg.

Mistress Meg’s progressive approach to staff management is not always appreciated by others.

I felt I should share this weeks events with you. I’m sure you’ll find them of interest. Those of you who are Seahorse members on my Patreon will appreciate some of the events more than others, being familiar with my work.  However, for those of you who have not yet joined me at that level, think of this as an introduction.

As I fastened the final leather cuffs to Mr. Barton’s forearms, I turned to Stacy and said, “Correct me if I’m wrong, Stacy, but if I’m not mistaken I can’t help thinking Mr. Barton is not a completely happy man.”
 
For those of you who have been reading my posts you regularly, you will know I am a very perceptive and sensitive person. I’m very generous by nature and I pick up on these things.
 
“What makes you think that?” said Stacy, as she selected a pair of shiny heavy steel nipple clamps.
 
“Mostly it’s the sobbing. The whimpering, too. The squirming is also something that does give him away a little.” I paused for a moment and then, addressing Mr. Barton, added, “What on earth is the matter?”
 
Mr. Barton’s muffled replay came between sobs. “Nothing, Mistress Meg.”
 
“Well, you wouldn’t think so, the way you’re carrying on. Stacy, bring the ball gag,” I said sharply. “And let’s get those nipple clamps on you!”

Continue reading “Staff Trouble – Mistress Meg.”

The Pastor comes to tea. Mistress Meg.

I looked at the young pastor and offered him another cup of tea. He sat in my room with a look of hopeful expectation.

“I would love to contribute to your fund, and I must say that, in principle I am of course an avid supporter of anything that helps disadvantaged inner city youth,” and with that I paused and leaned a little closer, my cleavage spilling into his eyeline.

I continued, “But, I wonder, Pastor. What can you do for me?”

The young man looked a little surprised, then replied, “Naturally, I’d like to help my benefactor in any way I can.” I couldn’t help noticing the struggle he was having averting his eyes from my breasts.

Continue reading “The Pastor comes to tea. Mistress Meg.”

Sylvester has entered me!

As summer gently shimmys toward the exit door, and fall gets in the queue to get into the club of the passing year, we’re slowly seeing the weather change. Even Auntie Kittie has started wearing a sweater now and then, a matter of considerable relief to Max, who types up her material.

Auntie Kittie is often surprised how quickly Max gets it up.

“Max is such a dear,” she said the other day. “I’m so grateful he’s so good at putting it in. He’s so thorough.” and then added as an after thought,”… and so quick.”

The poor 20 year old lamb goes the color of a beetroot when he’s embarrassed, and Auntie Kittie will say such things in front of Sylvester and Mistress Meg. And it was Sylvester and Meg who were sitting at my kitchen table this very morning. Sylvester was telling us how in these troubled times we should all be finding ways to lift our spirits. Instead of worrying about the Corona Virus we should be reaching deeply within ourselves and fostering our creativity. Meg was a little skeptical.

I’ve been doing that very thing myself. I’ve been doing a little embroidery, making some of my jeans look a little more feminine by adding a few little designs. It’s really very simple and gives even the most masculine of trousers a nice feminine touch. If you’d like to change your favorite dungarees from the farm yard, or even the ones you wear when cleaning out the slag from the iron foundry this will do just the trick. Even your most stylish denim pants can be personalised and uplifted – and we could all use a personalised uplifting of our denim clad butts, I’m sure you’ll agree.

I leaned over the kitchen table and turned to Sylvester and said, “What do you think of this?”

Sylvester looked at my jeans as I did so, and said, “That’s really very impressive.  I think I should enter you.”

“Sylvester, I…” but before I could speak he went on, as Meg looked on, arms folded and unimpressed.

“I should enter you in the embroidery competition. It’s part of the end of summer cultural fair at the recreation center.”

“Oh, really I don’t think so,” I said. “Most of the people entering are really rather older than I am. They’re quite a conservative lot. I’m really not sure what they’d make of me. I can imagine it would be like that poor South African athlete who they didn’t believe was a woman.”

Sexy jeans – just add heels.

Sylvester looked a little doubtful. “No, I don’t think it would be like that.”

Anyway that’s what I’m doing. Sylvester tells me he’s working on a book. The Complete Idiot’s Guide To Being A Complete Idiot. A catchy title.

“Are you writing it or reading it?” muttered Meg, ever the acerbic wit.

It turns out that half the people in this competition I’m now entered in are young arts students. I thought they’d all be doddery old buffers like Auntie Kittie’s father, who’s staying with her rather than going into a care home. These days that seems a rather good idea. The old fellow is about 150 years old and sits smiling looking into the far horizon. He seems a kindly old fellow, though the dementia is quite complete and he has little idea of what’s going on. He seems cheerful, though.

I said to Auntie Kittie, the other day when I was round there, “He looks like he’s fondly remembering the things he used to do when he was a young man.”

She frowned and agreed.

“Yes, you’re probably right. He’s remembering flying aeroplanes and bombing Germany. He’s always been a belligerent old bugger.”

I suppose we all have our own journeys.

Have a safe, socially distanced week. The Republican convention should provide a few laughs this week… urgh, I can hardly wait.

Fiona

Stacy’s New Job – Mistress Meg.

As I fastened the final leather cuffs to Mr. Barton’s forearms, I turned to Stacy and said, “Correct me if I’m wrong, Stacy, but if I’m not mistaken I can’t help thinking Mr. Barton is not a completely happy man.”
 
For those of you who have been reading my emails to you regularly, you will know I am a very perceptive and sensitive person. I’m very generous by nature and I pick up on these things.
 
“What makes you think that?” said Stacy, as she selected a pair of shiny heavy steel nipple clamps.
 
“Mostly it’s the sobbing. The whimpering, too. The squirming is also something that does give him away a little.” I paused for a moment and then, addressing Mr. Barton, added, “What on earth is the matter?”

Continue reading “Stacy’s New Job – Mistress Meg.”

The Pastor Comes To Tea – Mistress Meg.

I looked at the young pastor and offered him another cup of tea. He sat in my room with a look of hopeful expectation.

“I would love to contribute to your fund, and I must say that, in principle I am of course an avid supporter of anything that helps disadvantaged inner youth,” and with that I paused and leaned a little closer, my cleavage spilling into his eyeline.

I continued, “But, I wonder, Pastor. What can you do for me?”

The young man looked a little surprised, then replied, “Naturally, I’d like to help my benefactor in any way I can.” I couldn’t help noticing the struggle he was having averting his eyes from my breasts.

I smiled at him, placed my hand on his knee, at which he nearly jumped out of his skin, and then I said, “Don’t worry, I’m sure there will come a day when you can do some sort of service for me.”

“Y,yes… Of course. I’ll be happy to…”

“Good! And that day is today!” I replied quickly.

Continue reading “The Pastor Comes To Tea – Mistress Meg.”

Are you lactose intolerant? Don’t tell Mistress Meg.

I am so pleased to see that my personal trainer, Sebastian, is finally calming down. In isolation, along with his sister, Rainbow, he’s been struggling a little with the stress of the process. Here in lovely Vancouver people have been observing the lockdown very well, and as a result we had just one new death yesterday. Of course, even one is one too many, however the process does appear to be working.

He does help me online each morning as I work out, but I can hear the stress in his voice. I mentioned this very thing to Mistress Meg just yesterday.

“He does seem to be a little on edge,” I said. “It makes it hard to relax as I am doing yoga. He is rather highly strung.”

“Yes,” replied Meg. “He probably should be.”

Sympathy is not the primary emotion that springs to mind when chatting with Mistress Meg. Many of you will know her from her writing in the Seahorse level. Never one to stifle her opinions, I think she thinks of Sebastian rather like a puppy that continually looks for approval. She seems unsure whether she should laugh at it, pet it, or give in to the inevitable urge to give it a hefty kick over the nearest fence while no one is looking.

Continue reading “Are you lactose intolerant? Don’t tell Mistress Meg.”

You’re going to thank me, believe me.

I’ve been chatting with a few of the members this week and we’ve been talking about how people are handling social distancing and isolation. Rainbow, Sebastian’s sister, appears to think it’s all a hoax and that it’s really just the authorities trying to disguise the fact that this is the dawn of the zombie apocalypse. She seems to think that’s why the streets are so empty. She says they don’t like the sunlight.

There have been some great suggestions in our Whatsapp Group for activities that make this period a little more fun. When Sophie asked what she could do to keep feeling feminine, Lenni suggested going out and getting some clear nail polish – even if you’re unable to dress in public. It helps you look after your nails and feel feminine.

Continue reading “You’re going to thank me, believe me.”

So many messages this morning.

For those of you that are Seahorse tier members of my Patreon you may be aware that Mistress Meg’s series called The Conversion Of Rick has just completed.  I have had so many nice messages about it.

Many of those messages were lamenting that the weekly episodes are over for that particular story.  Well, don’t despair. I happen to know that Mistress Meg is working on a new series at present that will likely emerge later in the fall.

In the meantime one of her guests has brought in a number of journals and documents which she has been editing and sharing extracts from now and then. The collection is called The Stories Your Mother Never Told You, and they are literally a bundle of yellowing papers found in the loft of Mistress Meg’s guests home. These extraordinary documents detail the sordid exploits of her guest’s mother – a lady who passed on many years ago. As you can imagine, finding such a trove of documents of such a salacious nature was quite traumatizing for her guest.

Not to be unfair this visitor found himself blindfolded and bound securely while Meg and young Stacey read the contents of the journals and diaries aloud. Meg tells me that blind folding her guests helps them focus on the story and the details. He had, I understand, been unwilling to read them himself, worried about the way he might think of his dear mother. Having glanced at the contents I can see his reluctance was well founded.

I was really quite shocked when I heard about it, but what can one do? I try to keep Meg in order but she is a most willful woman. And that young Stacey! She doesn’t make it easier. 

You can now share in Mistress Meg’s enjoyment of these documents by joining my Seahorse Tier and accessing them here:  https://www.patreon.com/fionadobson/posts?tag=Mother%27s%20Stories 

I understand more are being released from time to time.  Perhaps you’d like to comment on them – purely from an educational stand point, of course.

🙂

Fiona

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