Beverley’s Way

When David Berkeley finished reading the essay all faces in the lecture theatre were turned on him. His diatribe on the place of women in a proper religious home, with a few minor changes, should have been welcomed with rapturous applause by the leading representative of the orthodox, or ultra-orthodox all three major Western faiths.

David felt himself flush slightly at collar and ears as he glanced over the top of his papers and looked at the faces staring up at from the descending tiers of the lecture stands. The registered a number of emotions from utter surprise, shock, controlled seething anger to embarrassed amusement, and you said it pal smirks.

The lecturer stood with her back against the podium and rested against it easily, her arms folded. Ms. Cortarios let the silence linger for a few more seconds.

“Very well presented Mr. Berkeley.” She said, at last, relieving the tension. Faces turned to look at her, some incredulous.

“Succinct, to the point, and delivered with a number of interesting facts. I see you spent some time in the Theology wing of the Library.”

There were some giggles.

“I can see from the reaction that you have trod on some feelings here.” She continued.

Some of the female students glared daggers at David.

“But that is beside the point. You chose a difficult subject during the period of polarization of sexual and religious beliefs. Very well done.”

“You can’t be praising him Ms.. He…he’s a pig…a narrow-minded chauvinist…” The girl’s voice trailed off as the lecturer caught her eye.

“You have no absolute proof, Miss Madrigal, that those are his express views. We are here only to listen and evaluate his paper, not his real or implied beliefs. For the expression of a particular viewpoint, be it personal or group-oriented, it is an exemplary piece of work.

“Now all of you, please hand in your papers. I will mark them over Spring Break. You can all disappear early. Enjoy the vacation.”

Beverley Cortarios beamed at her class.

The silence of before erupted into a warbling susurrus as the students exited the chamber. David Berkeley was the last to leave, a broad, self-important smirk growing on his young face as he descended the steps of the lecture hall.

Beverley Cortarios watched him over a stack of papers, her observation hidden by the rim of her spectacles.

David hurried from the Library through a bitterly chill wind that cut through the twilight like a knife. Although on the eve of Spring Break there was nothing of spring in the cooling evening, not even a momentary idea of that season, winter still clutched with icy fingers. David reached the bus stop and waited.

After a freezing eternity he glanced angrily at his watch; 6:17 p.m. He glowered into the darkening campus. Only a few windows in the surrounding buildings were lit. Damn that woman, he thought, I bet she deliberately left early. Probably on purpose too, well he was right; she was taking a job that man should be doing.

David pursed his lips as he wished he still had a college dorm and not an apartment in town. Well, there was nothing for it, he would have to walk the three miles. Sighing heavily he attached the long strap to his briefcase and hung it over his shoulder. Hunkering down against the rising wind he began his trudge towards home.

The light was a bright pinkish-tinged blue on the horizon broken by the gnarled limbs of denuded trees and bushes. Cold windswept fields emptied on either side; swallowed by the encroaching dark.

Light! Twin beams of headlights illuminated the road and David instinctively turned and blinked into them. Göztepe travesti The vehicle sped past, a momentary flash of light, slowed and halted in a ruddy halo, then backed up like two silver bright stars.

“David? David Berkeley?” A feminine voice asked. The face, partly illuminated by the dashboard lights.

“Yesss!” He said curiously wary.

“David it’s Ms. Cortarios. My goodness, what are you doing walking around in this weather.”

“I…I missed the bus, Ma’am.” She was a teacher after all and deserved the respect due to an Aunt.

“You must be frozen. Get in and I’ll drive you.”

David gratefully crossed to the opposite side of the road and entered the vehicle. The warm air covered him like a welcome blanket as he eased into the comfortable chair. Ms. Cortarios switched on the overhead and reached into the back seat.

Her dark, almost black hair, was not in her usual bun or ponytail but fell in cascading waves over her shoulders. Her clear skin showed the faintest olive cast to it now, denoting her Greek ancestry. She moved back into her seat and proffered a thermos.

“Hot coffee?” She smiled. “Well at least warm.”

“Oh, thanks.” David took the thermos, buckled in, and then poured himself a cup.

“Where to David?

“Uh…Oh…8th and Applewood, just by the book store. Do you know it?”

“Ye Olde Booke Emporium?”

“That’s the one.”

“We’ll be there in a jiffy.”

David smiled his thanks and drained the coffee. The warmth was a pleasant infusion that seemed to follow his very nerves. The car interior and the passing portions of the roadway faded into sleep.

David woke feeling uncomfortable. His arms were bound in something tight, as was his head. Something filled his mouth too, but he could not see what it was. He could only see forward, large panels overlapping the sides of his face obstructed the view. On trying to turn his head he found he could not.

Now a sense of pain began in his neck. He was lolled forward and could see a portion of the white wall an electronic running board. Something was preventing him from falling forward, but that same thing was applying a painful pressure in his throat. Gingerly and with difficulty he got his legs to work and he moved them until he was upright, the pressure pain stopped. He glanced down at his funny feeling feet.

Boots!

He was wearing a pair of hook and button ankle boots. A pair of woman’s high-heeled hook and button boots, like in Victorian times.

There was a whine…and the floor started moving. David fell forward and the pain started. He fought to get upright and staggered in the heels. David stumbled many times, always resulting in pain in the throat. Ages passed and he remained upright, walking mile after mile in the boots. Staring all the time at a blank wall; he was walking, walking, and walking.

Just as he thought he would die of thirst the thing in his mouth grew moist and he swallowed water. The liquid stopped and he sucked greedily for more, but none came. As he sucked the form in his mouth he felt at once calm and happy, but also a tad drowsy.

The wall before David glowed, then it flickered slightly then something coalesced into view.

A SISSY IS OBEDIENT TO A SISSY’S SUPERIORS

There was something familiar about the phrasing, but his mind was hazy; wrapped in something soft and warm.

YOU ARE A SISSY

The letters seemed to fill his eyes and brain.

A SISSY IS OBEDIENT TO A SISSY’S SUPERIORS

YOU ARE A SISSY

David walked on and on, the word’s alternating, swimming within him. More liquid and more walking Göztepe travestileri filled his life and accompanied with the same sentences repeated over and over and over.

WHAT ARE YOU?

David blinked.

WHAT ARE YOU?

The words appeared again.

A part of David wanted to say something else, but it beat futilely against a clear wall.

“I am a sissy.” Was just barely audible in his ears; distorted by the obstruction in his mouth.

WHAT ARE YOU?

“I am a sissy.” David mumbled, feeling slightly euphoric.

WHAT ARE YOU?

“I am a sissy.”

The walking board stopped. Lights dimmed David slumped. Shadows moved on the edge of his vision. He felt himself half afloat, moved by gentle hands. Something was removed from his mouth; he felt sad. David wanted it back in his mouth.

Liquid was passed over his lips and he drank. Seconds later he felt a giddy happiness envelop him. Wonderful warmth suffused through him, and then a slight pressure was felt at his rear, followed by something inserted into his mouth. Oh, that was good, so was the other thing…oh he felt happy and good.

He moved in shadows for a while then felt something smooth and silky all over him. He squirmed in delight. David was laid down and the darkness enveloped him in happiness.

David became aware, placed in the same position as before. He began walking; it was slightly more difficult because his heels were higher.

A SISSY COOKS, CLEANS, AND SERVES.

The wall informed him.

A SISSY IS OBEDIENT TO A SISSY’S SUPERIORS

The wall informed him.

IT’S A SISSY’S DUTY TO OBEY A SISSY’S SUPERIORS

A SISSY OBEYS AT ALL TIMES

A SISSY SEES TO A SISSY’S SUPERIORS NEEDS

THAT’S WHAT A SISSY DOES: THAT’S WHAT MAKES A SISSY HAPPY

David felt happy, very happy.

David’s time was divided between times of complete darkness, constant walking, and learning. He knew that as a sissy he had certain duties to Women and to men. A sissy kept the house, a sissy looked pretty at all times, a sissy did what a sissy was told and wore what a sissy needed to please Women and men.

A sissy loved silk and satin and bows and ribbons and frills and ruffles. The feelings of those fabrics and the dresses, skirts, blouses, and suits they were made into would send the sissy into paroxysms of joy. A joy that was strictly in the hands of the Woman or the man…as it should be.

Vina was happy. Vina was a good sissy fulfilling a sissy’s proper role in society. Not that a sissy should advertise the fact that sissy was a sissy in polite circumstances. The sissy fulfilled the role that a Woman or man decided was best. Vina was privileged to be a sissy. Lady Beverley’s sissy in fact…although Vina never called Lady Beverley by that Name when in the outside world, oh no…that was at home or in proper company. At work, Vina was Ms. Cortarios personal assistant.

To the University Vina was a slight woman with auburn hair kept in a flat bun, which was like a halo behind her head and shoulders, who had a penchant for satin blouses with a large bow at the neck and tight calf-length skirts, seamed stockings and 5″ patent heels.

Vina would mince around the faculty delivering papers and coffee to Ms. Cortarios and to Ms. Cortarios’ friends and colleagues. Vina was instructed to begin smoking so that Vina could suffuse in the pleasure of lighting cigarettes and supplying the same to needy female staff, and also of cleaning the smoking area afterward.

One afternoon while Vina was mincing around the living room wearing a diaphanous blouse of soft cloudy baby blue, Travesti Göztepe with tight collar tied with ribbon, the hem of collar rising as high as the multi bowed column of pink rinsed hair, six-tiered tutu in a matching color, trimmed in pink, and even more diaphanous ballooned harem trousers, through which could be seen her pink stockings and seams, balanced on shocking pink Victorian-style ballet heeled boots, the sissy was being watched with intensity by Beverley and her friend Sondra Whitlock.

“I still can’t believe it,” murmured Sondra, sipping casually on her coffer.

Beverley propped herself up on the couch. She wore a tight sweater and 50’s style sword-point bra and tight Capri pants.

“I just took that outmoded dogma that that pathetic lump believed in and turned it around, of course, I added a few hypnotic techniques and behavioral psychology too, plus a couple of biochemical enhances to certain centers of the brain; just to be on the safe side.”

“And there you have him…her…it,” said Sondra spreading her hands out towards the creature flouncing about before them.

“Oh, Vina has one little hurdle to cross.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes,” Beverley sighed. “Although I’ve had him flat on his back taking my dildo or on his knees taking the same front and back, our little Vina here has yet to taste the real thing.”

“Oh.” Sondra looked intently at her friend. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Beverly sat up, a mischievous twinkle in her sultry eyes, “I’ve heard of this place…”

Vina minced into the smoky room. Vina’s hair had been gathered and waved around the head with pearl pink highlights to the auburn. Vina’s head seemed perched on a white-collar that covered her neck and shoulders, a large pink bow with long tails under Vina’s chin. The skirt of the dress began below the collar and fanned out all around the body held up by a mass of frilly, frothy, white pink trimmed petticoats.

The lowest petticoat kissed the top of the posterior. Pantieless, Vina’s clitty stood semi-erect, Vina’s balls were separated from it by a matching bow. Shear glittered pink, stockings adorned each leg, held by six suspenders with little bow tips. The stocking tops were pinkish white feathers with a scattering of long nodding quills here and there.

Shocking pink ballet heels in wet – look material clipped like hooves on the polished floor. They matched the wet-look, shocking pink gloves that climbed up each arm and disappeared into the huge puffed shoulders of the pearly blue shimmering dress with pink polka dots.

Vina minced to the bar, arms out slightly for balance, a long pink holder in one hand and a dangling purse from the other. The pink leather purse was a molded penis and balls. The balls had zippered pouches for whatever contents Vina needed.

Vina sat at the bar, extinguished the cigarette, and laid down the holder. Glancing over to the group of men at the far end through long lashes Vina gave them a straight-faced look. A fan of pink pearl and white eye shadow, pink blusher, and pouted hot pink lips. Vinas removed a cigarette, lifted the purse, and unstopped the end above the twin bags proper. Vina inserted the cigarette and lifted the penis shape to her lips. Vina’s mouth formed a tight ‘o’ around the penis and lit the cigarette. Vina casually held the unique holder very ladylike to one side and, fluttering lashes, let the smoke play around the lips before inhaling and exhaling slowly.

A male shape moved right beside Vina. Vina looked coyly up through lashes and drew on the cigarette.

“Are you alone?” He said.

“Not anymore.” Vina breathed huskily.

“I wondered if we might go someplace.”

“Mmm, why not!” Vinas took one hand, the other airily moving the penis holder, and lead him to the restrooms.

In the office doorway, Beverley clasped her hands and giggled. Sondra looked over her friend’s shoulder, mouth agape.

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