Review: Marquesalon of Transformations

Do you fantasize about a beautiful sexy powerful woman ‘Transforming’ you into a lingerie craving crossdresser?  If you do, this is the recording for you!

Without a hint of a hypnotic induction the owner of Marquesalon of Transformations, Mistress Marquesa, will take you by the hand and lead you to the place you so much wish to be.  And all the while you will believe that you are just shopping for a gift.

This ‘Story’ recording is deceptively overpowering.  The Mistress will make you feel so very, very GOOD as She takes you deeper and deeper into your secret dream.

You will want to listen to this recording again and again as Her wonderfully velveteen voice delightfully takes you to where you should be.

Even if you have several of the Mistress’ recordings you should have this one to gain Her positive reinforcement of your secret desire.

Extreme Encounter!

An amazing story written for Me about Me!

This is NOT just one man’s dream in writing.  This may very well be your dream come true!

 

 

Imagine yourself meeting a client for the first time.  Of course, You’ve previously chatted with him by telephone and vetted him as well as You could, and he seemed to respond well to your suggestions.  So, when he asked to meet and experience You in person, You agreed to receive him. Read more…

Her Voice

            It began as part of my standard bit.

“Look at those tits!” Walter said. Walter Woodman, age seven going on seventy-five. Green hair. Freckled complexion. Always wears the same yellow-and-red plaid sports jacket with the same pair of light khaki pants and brown loafers. Height: 3’ 6”.

Walter is my ventriloquist dummy. We were in the middle of my act, doing a monthly gig at the bar lounge of a hotel near the beach. I had spotted her using my peripheral vision, which becomes acutely perceptive for those who do my line of work. At least, for those who do it well. She is older than me, but gorgeous: one of those women that puts out a high-beam erotic vibe, like some radiant version of the Spanish fly. I could see the men (and some women) around her fidgeting from sexual agitation. Read more…

Hallowed be Her Name

“Harlot!”

The preacher at the podium screamed the word into his microphone, making it reverberate through the enormous, brightly lit sanctuary of the megachurch, in which hundreds of congregants were gathered for Sunday services. Like the other churchgoers, Goddess Marquesa was startled.

Her surprise intensified when she saw her own face appear on the giant LED screen mounted behind the preacher, which until that moment had been projecting placid images of wide prairies and sunny shorelines. Looking at the ceiling toward the front of the large auditorium, she saw the remote-controlled camera that had surreptitiously been trained on her. It had caught her in an upper-torso focus, so that the assembly got to take in the blond locks, emerald eyes, classic features and voluptuous breasts that gave her such seductive appeal. Read more…

Rainy Day Goddess (a poem; with apologies to Waylon Jennings)

Rainy Day Goddess

 

Are You a woman? A Goddess?

No more or less

Than both the same

In one fair frame.

How could light so Divine

Sparkle and shine

But from a woman’s heart? Read more…

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