Asshe formed each section of curls, the iron burned hot on myscalp. It tugged relentlessly as she wound the strands of hairaround it, bringing it tigh... to my head. Mistress knew I likedthe feeling of the iron, so she twisted it slowly and forcefullyon each curl, dwelling on the process and solidifying thepowerlessness of my transition.As she finished with the curling iron, Mistress took a can ofhairspray and misted it all over my head, stiffening the hair anddefining the unmistakably feminine. We hugged and kissed a bit, and then, like we'd agreed, he tied me up to the trunk of one of the bigger older trees, an oak, with my arms wrapped around it and my legs apart. My wrists and ankles were tied and I loved the feel of my belly and boobs against the cold, slightly damp, very rough bark. He had the whip I'd made and I promised not to scream and so he kissed me again and stroked my hair (short, dark, a bit curly) and began to whip me. At first, he was too nervous and gentle, but then. More

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