The Femdom Doctor's Humiliating Prescription: 'Wear makeup, dress as a woman, become a sissy faggot slut'

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One of the most common mistakes, Kilmer-Purcell says, stems – um – straight from sissy salutations: Someone that lives with me is just coming out of the closet and I am trying to give him advice on removing body hair. For their your male, is there anyway of preventing body hair from growing in? Or is always just something that he will need to remove my shaving or using nair or something like it? It was an off-handed comment that I ignored at first, but then later asked her to elaborate on what she meant. She talked about the different components of gender transition: social, medical, and surgical. I may not be dressing publicly in women’s clothes or asking people to recognize me as female, and I certainly don’t have any surgeries planned, but medical transition is just hormone therapy, which I’m now months into. Therefore, I am medically transitioning. Her argument was logical, but I still resisted it. Then do it! There's no shortage of men out there who want Something Different; it's just a matter of connecting with the right one! It was surprisingly easy to do this. Once I got past many months of agonizing over a course of action, and then a few more weeks just working up the courage to make a phone call, it was only a matter of going to the clinic, discussing the medical implications of treatment, and signing a form saying I understood what I was doing. A blood test and a trip to the pharmacy later, I had the pills in hand.

Lately, I've lost weight and I'm trying to be more attractive. I realize, however, that my body is very aged and little and I can do nothing. The thing I noticed immediately was that nothing was immediately noticeable. I didn’t feel the sudden calm or rightness that many transgender people say they feel when their brains are operating on the correct hormones. I didn’t feel anything at all aside from eagerness and curiosity. At least, not right away.

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She also talked about how social support and self-acceptance would help the depression more than any chemicals would. I resisted that advice too. I went out into the streets,” she says. “I spent all my money at an arcade on 'Pacman' and 'Space Invaders.' Then I realized that I had no money for food. That’s when the enormity of being homeless really hit.” I was born like that..Always been a sub with guys since I was 13... Love to find an older local guy to be my daddy... I have always been a sissy faggot. I started dressing and being with boy and men when I was 14. I love being a sissy faggot

When the boy began to turn from red to blue and he was flailing his little arms frantically Matt finally let go. The first time getting raped wasn't a thing you should be unconscious for. No, he and his little brother would make him into the slut he really was, he should remember this day. Vince knew his brother was right and gave the pussy a few more humps before shooting his load inside the little bitch. With every push he spurted his hot seed inside the slut, filling his bowels. Maybe it was good he wasn't a real girl, he would have been super pregnant when he and his brother were done with him. I met Jill Brenneman in 2011 at a conference for sex workers in Asheville, North Carolina. Standing behind a podium ironically flanked by crosses, the tall redhead delivered a presentation so spellbinding that the audience seemed to breathe and gasp in unison. Her story of brutal rape, of slavery, of dungeons, of "50 Shades of Grey" bondage gone horribly awry, was so dark and harrowing that one wondered how she had even survived, much less summoned the strength to stand before us. I have had relationships with some men and I have tried to be feminine (I feel like a woman!) behaving with gentleness and availability. I never felt the need to wear myself as a whore.Criminalization of sex work, she argues, protects predators like Bruce and others who commit acts of rape, violence, or even murder against prostitutes. As a consensual sex worker, Jill was able to screen her clients to weed out the dangerous ones, which allows some level of protections against predators. Though her experience as a sex worker wasn’t pleasant, it was nothing like life as a slave. What followed was a grueling six weeks of “training” to ready Jill for her clients. In a special dungeon, Bruce put Jill through sensory deprivation exercises. My skin is softer, I think. Softness isn’t exactly something you can measure, so this may just be a placebo effect, but it seems like the veins on my legs and forearms are less visible. I got carded when buying alcohol for the first time in years. Then it happened again the next day. I’m 36 years old. Most sex workers avoid hospitals because the staff think if you are beaten or raped, then you deserved it or you asked for it because you’re a prostitute,” she explains. “But it’s not like that. As a sex worker I agree to do certain things. Anything I am forced to do outside [of] that is rape, plain and simple. Clients know that sex workers can’t go to police or even seek medical help. Many of them become violent because they know they can get away with it.” My plan when I started all this was to try hormone therapy for 3–6 months and see how it felt, then switch off that and try an anti-depressant for a few months so I could compare them and see which is more effective. I was and am not convinced that gender dysphoria is the primary cause of my depression. This experiment was meant to provide information to help parse out just how much of a factor it is.

Vince slapped the slut hard in the face to prove his point. He got up and walked up behind his brother. I felt very confused and alone,” she recalls. “I was in a world where I didn't know anyone, had no particular place to go or any real idea of how to rebuild my life. I was also terrified because I thought it might be another trap set by Bruce.” Now, having been on female hormones for nearly 4 months, I realize that the thought of going off them is vaguely terrifying. I like the effect they’re having on my body. There are moments of doubt, and a few of those moments have manifested as intense anxiety that makes me hate everything I’m doing, but on most days I know that these are positive changes. It feels like progress. You see slut? This is what you get when you're a dirty faggot. From now on you're gonna be just a rape toy. You're just some meat for us to use now."In 1996, Jill wrote a response to a male commentator online who accused all runaways of being drug addicts who didn’t want to live under their parents’ rules. Her reply caught the attention of a woman who worked at a shelter for runaways and Jill was invited to Portland, Oregon. There, she was encouraged to tell her story. That,s for me, too! I would adore to cuddle up with one like that, and give him, well, just give him! Just try his pussy, bro. Guess you'll find out. He might not have a real pussy but he really is a girl, being such a slut." Jill was born in New Hampshire during the '60s, the daughter of a prominent, middle-class family with ties to the local school board. But secrets seethed beneath the family’s respectable exterior. Jill was raped for the first time at 5 years old when she wandered unknowingly into a bedroom during a sex act between her mother and her mother’s boyfriend. Enraged, her mother offered the boyfriend the opportunity to penetrate her daughter. She told him it was a punishment, and to make it hurt. He was happy to accommodate. Later, the boyfriend decided that little Jill was an exciting fringe benefit and continued to rape her with her mother’s full knowledge and consent.

I have a desire but to this point have only dressed as a woman . . . I want to increasingly become more and more swishy when in male mode and ultimately date men. . . I so want to be a sissy......have been dressing ala solo for years need to share with someone that would appreciate the feminine me As I came to know her over the years, to enjoy her dry sense of humor, her keen intelligence, her blunt manner of speaking that forces you to take off every mask, I learned the other side of her story too. Her real story is not a tragedy. It is a lesson of redemption and courage, second chances and taking chances. Above all, it is a story of empowerment. Jill may not enjoy sex work, but she still advocates for the right to do it and for the right to recourse against clients who become violent. Harm reduction and sex worker rights advocacy is pragmatic, based on reality instead of the abstract,” says Jill. “I felt like I could actually make a positive difference with real women.”People think all sex workers are victims, or they are really messed up or abused because otherwise they wouldn’t be selling their bodies,” she says. “But that’s not true. My life as a sex worker was boring and normal. It’s a job like any other. The only difference is that because you have no legal protections, there are certain risks involved.” Her message to sex workers is, “Regardless of how you end up in sex work, don’t let anybody tell you that you are any less of a person. People will tell you to ‘get a real job.’ They will judge you. They will hate you. Don’t let it get to you. Just keeping doing what you need to do. Just because you don’t have legal rights doesn’t mean you don’t deserve them.” Jill was bound, gagged, suspended from a beam by her wrists, raped and beaten. Afterwards, Bruce, breathing heavily from the effort, informed Jill that she was now his slave. She would work for him as a submissive for sadistic clients. Then he untied her wrists and left her crumpled on the floor. Bruce told Jill that he ran an entertainment agency and offered her a chance to audition. Excited at the prospect of work, but also wary, Jill asked if the “position” would involve prostitution. She didn’t want to do that. Bruce stood up angrily, shouting that she had asked a stupid question and he wasn’t going to help her. As he stormed off, Jill ran after him and begged him to reconsider, promising that she would ask no more questions. Bruce relented and invited her into his car, where he blindfolded her. Jill began staking out cafés, where she would snatch sandwiches and run. She ate out of dumpsters and slept in the cemetery where police wouldn’t bother her; the sprinkler system provided a way to get clean. She was lonely, unhappy and overwhelmed. Then Bruce walked into her life.