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Whatever works for her I guess.), Mistress leads me to our designated play space for the evening. Flush against the painted over black brick wall, is ... pen, with a bit of straw s**ttered. Alongside it, a pair of buckets or farm pails, and inside the pen, a scaled down hitching post with three or four leather straps hanging across the wooden crossbeam. I note with some enthusiasm that the underside of that crossbeam has wrist (or I suppose they could be ankle) restraints. Smiling at what. Actually, womanhood wasn?t what thewomen who did this to me intended. It was what Antonio wanted. Thewomen wanted me to be something less. Something they could demean andmock. The people who did this, want to keep people like me submissiveand docile to the real women.??This does not make sense, Vanessa. Can you explain?? Michaelinsisted. ?It doesn?t make sense to you, because you have jumped to the wrongconclusion. I am not transgender and I don?t have Gender Dysphoria. Iwas forced into this. So I moved there. A feeling of something wrong made me tiptoe to the room. Peter was placing jasmine on Robin’s lap. As he did, Robin slowly held her skirt from behind so when she sat her skirts were up. Peter was giggling and rubbed her thigh. But all of them were watching TV and what they were doing seemed just like a friendly gesture. Only her skirts being a little high worried me. I thought maybe it was just my dirty mind as Peter too had a daughter of the same age maybe he was only showing. Each time I took them out, I could see improvement in their skills. They still had the attention span of young boys, but they both loved to play soccer, and they loved kicking the ball to each other. By the third day, we were playing a game I called Heads-Up. The three of us were in a moving, revolving triangle, each about twenty feet from each other. We were constantly passing three soccer balls, first clockwise, and then counterclockwise. The exercise kept them moving (which they were prone.
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