A Dream Come True Pt. 01

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Dating as a trans woman is tough — especially when men just don’t do it for you. I always thought it’d be easier if I could just have my choice at the proverbial dick buffet. But no, I only notice, only feel things, for women. Do they notice, do they feel things, for me? I don’t know. I’ve been transitioning a long time, long enough that nothing sets me apart in looks. A respectable height of 5’6/167cm, well-kempt shoulder-length blonde curls, firm and cute breasts, and a backside fueled by hormones and sculpted in the gym. And, of course, a penis, now entirely ornamental. I knew I looked good enough, it was just my personality that held me back. Hi, I’m Jean, by the way. Sorry, I’m not great at introductions.

I’m too stiff and too nervous to make a move lest I make a beautiful woman uncomfortable. Only dating apps had brought limited, awkward success. Nothing ever lasted. I’ve been ghosted, stood up, cordially broken-up with, everything one expects from an artificial place designed to sell premium services to feed our erotic egos. I’d given up. Not in a depressing, permanent way. I’d just… taken a break for myself. I wanted time to improve my life, space to explore my twenties, and a break from worrying about love. Sex. Fucking. I want to fuck and be fucked so badly, to look up into the devouring eyes of a woman and have her *break* me. I craved nothing less than to be the masochistic plaything of a powerful woman, to please her, to whimper, beg, and scream for mercy and for her to deny me.

So, night after night, I rub my flaccid self to dry completion, waiting for the day where I might meet someone half as wonderful as I might dream.

***

“Me and my friend Maxi are going to a sapphic night at the Roaring Kitten this Saturday, you interested?” My friend Kendall asked, during a friendly art night with our friends, each of us painting our respective works. Kendall and I went way back, and I knew they weren’t interested in me as anything but a friend.

I hesitated mid-stroke. “I dunno…” I weakly stated.

“Sounds fun!” One of the guys, Rory said. Rory was cool — as were all our friends here, most of us queer or strange in our own ways, not fussing with pointless drama, lusting, or flirting. We knew where we all stood with each other.

Kendall rolled their eyes at me. “C’mon, whenever I ask you about how dating is going, you just go ‘not great’, or ‘bad’, or tell me some fucked-up story of how things went wrong. Maxi and I will wingman for you! It’ll be great! Even if you don’t meet anyone, we’ll just get drunk and vibe.”

Well, I *did* like drinking and vibing.

***

The best part about summer clubbing is that Mother Nature’s heat lets you dress like a slut and stay warm. I put a wide-open blouse which barely covered my chest, a flared, low-cut skirt, my heart-shaped, lesbian-flag earings, and… a collar. I feel too shy, too exposed to wear them in public, but wearing a collar made me feel so good. It was tough, studded, and fastened with a firm buckle, not a flimsy button. A stainless steel loop proudly held itself at its center, sticking out, just begging someone to tie something to it. To me.

I smiled into the mirror. I look great. Even if tonight was dry, I was happy I could look like innovia escort this.

***

The night melted by in a kaleidoscope of drinks, strobing lights, and the heat of bodies. Whenever a gay-looking woman looked at me, then slowly eyed me top-to-bottom, I felt sickly-sweet heat welling deep inside. But I never approached anyone, and no one approached me. I sat with Kendall and Maxi, enjoying our drinks, banter, and awful puns, all the while sensing the sheer eroticism around me, my soft dick slowly soaking my underwear.

“Hey Jean,” Maxi said, gesturing somewhere beside me, “someone just your type keeps giving you the side-eye. She’s, uh-“

I turned that way.

“Got total domme energy!” Kendall smirked.

We made eye contact. My god. Even sitting down, I could tell she was tall, with short and tousled black hair, dark jeans, and high-rise boots. She glanced away then back, and gave a meek little wave. Not the dominant move I expect but — oh my god she waved at me. Something in my brain short-circuited and I slowly turned back to Kendall and Maxi, my vision swimming from my own heat, and for the first time in years, I got hard. It was as embarrassing as it was overwhelming: with a look and a wave, I’ve been reduced to this.

Could I be reduced more?

“Yeah!” Maxi agreed, and my mind caught up to the present. In the half-second I nearly melted in my chair, they kept bantering. “Super domme.”

“I’ll bet you ten whole bucks that you can get her number.” Kendall said with a sly, evil smile.

“Y-yeah.” I agreed, my face surely red. I took slow, deep breaths, and flexed my legs to level-out my bloodflow away from… a very conspicuous spot.

“The bartender just gave her the bill.” Maxi taunted. I glanced over. Her lips moved, inaudibly, smiling as she made small talk to the barkeep. She was beautiful.

“Now or never.” Kendall shrugged.

“Now or never.” I echoed.

I awkwardly got off my seat, and walked toward her, while trying to look like I wasn’t walking toward her. She finished paying and turned to leave, and she saw me, and smiled.

“Hi.” She said.

“Hi.” I replied. An unbearable second passed. I became acutely aware at how poor I was at maintaining eye contact and blurted out “my friends bet me ten bucks I could get your number.”

Her own smile turned mischievous. I looked up into her eyes, and she slowly looked down — right at my chest and neck. I felt like a piece of meat, in the most sublime way possible.

“That’s easy money for you, then,” she replied. “Though, if you’re interested, there’s a… fun way you can lose that bet.” I tilted my head, confused.

“I’m just heading home. I live a few blocks away. Would you like to join me?”

I froze.

She blushed, and her commanding presence faltered, “god, sorry, that was too much. Yeah, my number is 8-“

“Yeah, I’ll come with you.” I breathed out.

Her blush remained while her confidence returned. “Great! I’ll lead the way.” She offered me her hand. I took it without question, and she led me out. I looked over at Kendall and Maxi, who looked more excited than I’d ever seen them. Gotta love good friends.

***

“I’m Sabrina.” She said, ipsala escort as the night air engulfed us.

“Jean,” I replied. Getting out of the club let reality sink in a bit more, let my heart calm down. “How’s your night going?” I continued.

Sabrina blew a raspberry. “Mostly boring. There was one cute girl earlier, I said hi to, but she wasn’t much for conversation. I had just decided to leave early when *you* showed up.”

“Good timing, then!” I replied. “I’m, uh, surprised you’d leave early. I mean, sapphic night, am I right?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, but I’ve been before, with no luck. I’m not really good at flirting. I just kind of… sit there and hope someone approaches me.”

“It worked tonight.” I replied, squeezing her hand.

She squeezed back. “How about you?”

“Well,” I began. “alright. I wasn’t really expecting to meet anyone. I came with a couple friends and I was just gonna have some drinks and enjoy the, uh, atmosphere, but they pointed you out and said you kept looking at me.” I looked up at her. She looked back.

“I was.”

I looked away, blushing.

She continued, “What do you want to do when we get to my place?”

What a torturous question. I began to stammer out something, but she gently cut me off.

“Jean, we were at a gay bar and we’re going home together. You can be honest — and you can also tell me exactly what you want, even if you don’t want to do very much. We can just kiss, cuddle, watch videos or something.”

She sounded so kind, so sweet. I looked back at her. She must have been 5’11”. I glanced at the few people around us as we passed them, and I quietly said “I want you to fuck me,” and looked into her eyes.

Sabrina was biting her lip, looking at me with those… devouring eyes. I had said the words, given consent. I felt like I had made the most wonderful choice of my life.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous.” She cooed, with a forceful edge. I nervously giggled.

“Come. This is my building.” It was the entrance to a mediocre apartment in the heart of downtown. She led me through the empty lobby, past the unremarkable decades-old carpeting, and into the elevator. The door slowly closed.

“The elevator in this building is pretty slow,” she innocently commented. Then she turned, and placed a hand beside my head, trapping me against the wall, looming over me.

“May I touch your collar?” She asked. I nodded rapidly.

She took the loop, rubbing the smooth edge, fingering the center with her middle finger. “How does this make you feel?” She asked, with false, mocking detachment.

“R-r-really excited…” I gasped out. She continued, leaning further over me.

“This collar was the first thing I noticed about you. Collars say a lot about the people who wear them, wouldn’t you agree, Jean?” She slowly, firmly pulled the loop. Not enough to move me, but enough to tighten around the back of my neck, to feel her force.

“Y-yeah, I, I’m very submissive.” She barked a laugh. “No kidding.” She replied.

Then I remembered something, something I should have mentioned long before this moment. “Sabrina, I should tell you… I’m trans.”

She leaned further, her lips by my ears. “I don’t care,” iskenderun escort She whispered. “May I touch it?”

“In here?” I asked, conscious about the public reality of the elevator.

“Just for a moment.” She tempted me. I nodded. “Use your words, Jean.” She taunted.

“Yes.” I said.

“Yes, *Sabrina.*” She corrected.

“Yes Sabrina.” I said.

She moved close, and taking her other hand, grasped my crotch, squeezing it with sadistic glee. “So small, cute, soft…” she purred. I came. Everything had gotten so much, so intense, she was so perfect, so amazingly powerful, her hands so delicate yet firm, her scent so intense. The spot on the skirt she was grabbing became dark with moisture, and when she felt it, she laughed.

“That’s a good girl…” she said, and squeezed harder. I moaned, no longer thinking about where I was. The door opened with a cheery ‘ding!’ and all at once she released me. Sabrina took that hand and licked three of her fingers, clearly enjoying the moment for my taste alone.

“Come on,” she waved me out. “My place is here.” Her voice again sounded like it had in the club: normal, sweet, innocent. We passed a forty-something woman in the hall, and I couldn’t tell if quizzical face was for me.

**

Sabrina’s place was unremarkable. Built and carpeted in the 80s, a bland beige paint-job, a mix of eclectic art and posters from bands I’d never heard of.

“Want some water?” She asked.

“Yes, Sabrina.” I dutifully replied.

I saw her smirk as she walked into the kitchen, and I watched her beautiful butt bounce on the way. “Go onto one of the couches in the living room.” She ordered, and I found my way there. She followed me in with two glasses, tall and moist with condensation.

“How are you feeling?” She asked.

I laughed. “What do you think? That was… you’re so fucking hot, Sabrina.”

She smiled gently. “You don’t have to call me by my name every time when we’re just talking… unless you want to.”

“I do, Sabrina.” It felt so good to say. Felt so good to obey and revere her.

“Good girl, Jean,” she said, and I felt my libido surge again. “Do you want to keep going? Or-“

“Yes, please Sabrina. I want to keep going until I just can’t anymore.”

Her eyes lit up. “That’s quite a statement. We should cover some boundaries, though.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I, uh, so first off, I don’t mind my… dick being used or touched. But it doesn’t really get hard, and I don’t really top, or fuck.”

“Don’t worry,” she replied, “pretty little thing like you? You’re mine to dominate” God, the way she talked…

“Good, good…” I said, smiling. “I’m just submissive. Masochistic, everything you’d expect. I like it when you… take the lead. I like it when you ask if things are okay, but I like it when you decide what we do.”

“I understand.” She said. “Speaking of which… Take all your clothes off. Now. But keep your socks and collar on.”

“Y-yes, Sabrina.” I complied, and in a moment I was fully nude.

“It’s easier to cum with socks on,” she explained. “Something about circulation.”

“Oh. Well, boundaries for you?” I asked.

“I prefer to not be touched unless I tell you to. It’s less of a comfort thing, and more that I just think it’s fun to control little submissives like you.” She punctuated that by tapping my nose.

“That’s too bad, you have a beautiful body, Sabrina.”

“I know,” She playfully replied. “Anything else, Jean?”

“If something comes up, I’ll tell you, Sabrina. I… want to see what you’ll do to me.”

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