<\/a>called \u201cfemale supremacy,\u201d and she began to play her wicked games in the sub-terrestrial universe of tops and bottoms, fantasies and illicit storylines. Marquesa didn\u2019t entirely approve of these games. She was aware of this fetish world. She loved the dramatic fashion and some of the ideals it promoted. But overall, it wasn\u2019t real to her, and if it wasn\u2019t real, what was the point anyway? It really didn\u2019t further the female cause. It was nothing more than a bunch of horny men getting their rocks off. From its start, she wanted her school to be legit, an accredited institution of higher learning and feminine growth. Marquesa didn\u2019t hate men. She simply believed the world would be a better place if women were the ones in power, and her life\u2019s mission was to push men down by lifting women above. Marquesa had resolved to make her little education project a garden of future influence. It was important to her, her dream come true and it was very much real. The things that went on within the respected walls of her school were vital to women everywhere, she demanded. Marquesa was breeding the female leaders of tomorrow, today. She looked upon each student as a seed of beauty and power. They would become her prolifically inventive generals and courageous, quick-thinking lieutenants. Her advanced feminine studies program was designed to catapult its female student body into political, business and financial leadership roles throughout society by leveraging the feminine weapons bestowed upon them at birth. The mothers who sent their daughters to Marquesa had high hopes for their girls and by enrolling them into The Academy Of Marquesa, they received an insurance policy of sorts upon their coveted acceptance. <\/span><\/p>\nNow, a new opportunity had presented itself to Marquesa, one which, if executed, could help her accomplish the other half of her life\u2019s mission, to push men down, soften them, overpower them, and then compel them to willingly surrender, by any means possible, to her and other women. Marquesa was prone to think big, really big, and inducing men to surrender to women was the ultimate aphrodisiac, something she had pondered and fantasized about for years. She even dreamed about it, seeing boys humiliated in her classrooms at night, when all of the girls were sleeping at home in their beds, boys on their knees in little black dresses, collars and leashes around their necks, boys taught to surrender to her army or face retribution. An army, her army of Princks and Princkettes and lovely ladies systematically feminizing, humiliating, over-powering men and boys. She often mused upon the sound of their cries drifting through the halls. \u201cOh, what a feeling!,\u201d she dreamed to herself. It was her greatest fantasy, but it was only that. What would it take to make the dream a reality? Marquesa was a strong-willed woman, but she wasn\u2019t crazy. She knew the idea would not be accepted by the majority and would require some heavy duty legal release disclosure forms to become valid. How could she possibly or creatively absorb her dream into the curriculum? It was a dilemma, until now.<\/span><\/p>\nFor the three years of the academy\u2019s existence, no boys had ever been admitted. Throughout these years, several strategies had been considered for assimilating the inferior sex into The Academy. Accepting effeminate males was certainly a radiant possibility and could be an effective ice breaker. They had already tasted femininity and could be easily wooed to accept subservient roles as foot soldiers in her future army, performing the menial tasks of cleaning, reception, cooking and other duties known previously to be accomplished by women. Yes, it was something she had contemplated, even discussing the subject with her staff on several occasions which consisted of her secretary and four instructors.<\/span><\/p>\nIt wasn\u2019t until one of her closest friends began accosting her to accept her sissy son into Marquesa\u2019s school, by the most seductive means, did Marquesa begin to visualize the reality. Samantha\u2019s son Tommy was a boy who seemed to be androgynously engineered, deeply feminine inside, one who had been caught by his mother, on numerous occasions, dressed in her clothes, pretending to be a girl, since a very tender age, the age of 7 in fact. Could this be her perfect test subject and guinea pig for feminization and formal, public and humiliating training, she wondered? Upon meeting the boy for the first time, the answer was instantaneous.<\/span><\/p>\nMarquesa frequented Samantha\u2019s spa and beauty salon, an elegant place known for its exceptional service and spectacular stylists. It was a natural for Marquesa since Sam had redesigned her business to cater to the Princk and Princkette community in town, a group of about 10,000 and growing strong. Sam had no competition. She still had a loyal cadre of female customers, but now she had tapped into a marketing goldmine by targeting this very special assemblage of ladies. She was benefiting from word of mouth marketing within the community. Samantha was doing so well she had to open a waiting list which grew with each new day, but her friend Marquesa never waited or paid for anything.<\/span><\/p>\nMarquesa and Samantha had become friends from the moment Marquesa stepped her patented Christian Louboutin pumps into Sam’s shop. They were both business owners, independent and dominant women, and they shared many of the same beliefs and philosophies about womanhood. They had so much in common they almost felt like sisters. Recently it seemed that Samantha had rolled out the red carpet for her dear friend with each new visit, a tradition which positively delighted Marquesa, but the frequent demonstrations of generosity made her curious. Samantha started employing a full court press on Marquesa, dispatching two lovely young ladies to take care of her every need with each visit. As usual, the girls stood by the front door, side-by-side, waiting for Marquesa to arrive. She was greeted with two warm smiles, hugs and kisses and then led to the spa\u2019s luxury suite, one servant holding each of her hands. While one enthusiastically acquiescent girl concentrated on Marquesa\u2019s hair and makeup, another young lady focused on pedicures, manicures and foot massages. Pedicures and foot massages were conducted on knees which were routinely sprinkled by intermittent and tenderly pressed kisses and licks to Marquesa\u2019s calves, ankles, feet and toes. It was absolutely fabulous and one of the highlights of Marquesa\u2019s week! <\/span><\/p>\nAll of the ladies who worked for Sam practically kissed her ass. They were well paid and treated with respect. Anyone who didn\u2019t join the team, emotionally and willingly, never fitted in and usually left on their own. Sam had no problem firing girls for insubordination; she just didn\u2019t have to do it that often. Everyone was fiercely loyal to Sam. She was like the queen bee. <\/span><\/p>\nThose who made their careers with Sahmanthah were part of something special, an excellent and indulgent reputation. Marquesa enjoyed that indulgence within the luxury suite where VIPs were adorned with champagne and strawberries, sweet music and peaceful privacy, while being simultaneously treated to two perfect practitioners of pleasant pampering. Samantha had encouraged her friend to return every week, an offer to which Marquesa was more than willing to redeem having become accustomed to the relaxation of observant spoiling. As one of the most prominent Princks in her community (Princks are a special type of lady who had gone under the knife by having implanted a heat-seeking, voracious cock between her legs nearly perpetually erect. The operations were routinely performed abroad in countries such as France, Italy, Australia and Japan.), Marquesa had taken notice of one of Samantha\u2019s girls, a lovely young manicurist by the name of Coco while Coco attended to Marquesa\u2019s gorgeous toes. Marquesa wasn\u2019t embarrassed by how hard she was between her legs, because it was almost always hard and she never wore panties; but she was self-conscious of how much harder it was getting at each stolen glimpse of the dazzling girl below as the girl touched her feet and toes with the softest hands. Instead, she became self-aware of how her cock was lifting her entirely short skirt up to give Coco an unimpeded view of its thick shaft. Marquesa couldn\u2019t push it down because it couldn\u2019t go any farther and would probably shoot back up. Reaching for her skirt would be too obvious anyway. She had no choice but to relax and let it go and hope the girl wouldn\u2019t notice. Short skirts were meant to drape like a shroud over a statue leaving something to the imagination; but they also provided a most graphic illustration of the shadowy length beneath to those left on their knees. When Marquesa became mindful of how her swelling length was suddenly distracting the sweet young girl, she blushed, ironic as it was since the beautician next to her was, at that very moment, applying blush to her cheeks. Mesmerized, Coco burned her stare into the protrusion beneath Marquesa\u2019s skirt. When she couldn\u2019t take it anymore she uttered a most vocal exclamation of surprise – oh my god! which made the other young attendant in the room nervous. Not another word was spoken between the three of them during the remainder of the spa session, but within a week Marquesa and Coco we\u2019re dating, eventually becoming inseparable and falling in love. Then, Samatha gave Coco a raise and promoted her to the front desk. Coco delivered the exhilarating news to her girlfriend with the sweetest barrage of kisses which pleased Marquesa to no end.<\/span><\/p>\nDespite all of this, after two months of amazing weekly visits to the spa and a gorgeous new girlfriend, Marquesa wondered again, \u201cWhat\u2019s the catch?,\u201d and speculated when Samantha would come calling and with what. Sam certainly wanted something and it was probably something big. Whatever it was, of course Marquesa would give Samantha what she wanted, but Marquesa remained curious and resolved not to roll over on the first request. The second, yes, but not the first. She intuitively discovered the answer when Tommy entered the picture.<\/span><\/p>\nTommy worked in his mother\u2019s spa after school, at her demand. The 21 year old was attending a local technical college learning fashion design and computer programming. At the spa, he worked as a janitor sweeping floors, restocking, picking up hair and cleaning. Little Tommy was commanded to do anything anyone in the spa wanted him to do whenever she wanted him to do it. This was his charge. His official title was \u201cGirl Friday\u201d. Samantha even had some business cards made up for him and demanded he distribute them to everyone who he talked to in the spa. Maybe the reverse psychology would help. It didn\u2019t. Ladies would take advantage of the sissy regularly, but this was part of the package, his mother rebuked. Ultimately, this too became part of her way of getting back at the little sissy for, well, being a sissy. On top of all of the embarrassment he endured, having to suffer the rejoinders to reading the title on his printed business cards was nearly unbearable.<\/span><\/p>\nHis most important task was to ask each and every customer who walked through the door if they needed anything or had any special requests, and then make them happy. This included several men, husbands to some of the ladies who worked there, but also a few gay men who frequented the establishment. One of these, a local policeman, took a peculiar interest in Tommy. He was one who could see the girl inside, but who couldn\u2019t? What made this man different was that he liked sissies, loved them in fact. The \u201cGirl Friday\u201d business card seemed to excite the man. He wanted to approach the overtly feminine boy, but instead sought out the spa\u2019s \u201cManager.\u201d Samantha invited the officer into her office for a little chat and he began questioning her about the boy in question. As he was unaware that Samantha was the boy\u2019s mother, the man asked her if Tommy was dating anyone and with whom, when his next shift was and if he could have Tommy\u2019s digits. In an effort to protect her little sissy, Samantha accepted the man\u2019s business card, but asked him to leave. That was over a year ago. <\/span><\/p>\nWhile working at the spa, Tommy was so closely monitored by his mother that Samantha fitted him with a head-mounted video camera broadcasting crystal clear images to her laptop in her office so she could scrutinize everything he did inside of her business. If he wasn\u2019t thoroughly obedient and respectful to any of her employees, he was abruptly and verbally reprimanded in the privacy of her office. The ladies were instructed to \u201ctell on\u201d Tommy if he did anything inappropriate, and a few of the girls took that as an opportunity to manufacture indiscretions. Although she knew her girls would lie to get Tommy in trouble, she never questioned an employee. Neither did Tommy. He didn\u2019t want any of the ladies in the spa mad at him. The ladies enjoyed humiliating the sissy. It was fun!<\/span><\/p>\nMarquesa had noticed Tommy before, but had never given him much thought. Samantha had never formally introduced the two of them. All she knew was that he was Sam\u2019s and that was that. Once Tommy entered the luxury guest room and uttered his first words to Marquesa, she knew instantly what was up the sleeve of her friend Samantha\u2019s silk blouse.<\/span><\/p>\nSamantha was fed up. She had tried everything, had even paid a counselor to talk to Tommy. The therapist of her choosing recounted to Samantha her approval of the effort Tommy was making after his fifth visit, but at $75 an hour, Samantha wanted a quick resolution. It wouldn\u2019t happen. When the over-priced, but sympathetic therapist visited the spa to tender her unforeseen resignation, she admitted to Samantha in her final report, albeit awkwardly, Tommy\u2019s \u201cfemininity\u201d could never be fully uprooted. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cNever?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cNever!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you use the word \u2018cure\u2019?,\u201d Sam inquired.<\/span><\/p>\nWith a pause, the therapist responded, \u201cBecause I believe Tommy is, indeed, a girl living in a boy\u2019s body. I believe she was genetically engineered to be a girl, but at the last minute, something happened, and she came out a boy. All of Tommy\u2019s inclinations towards femininity were his little secret wish to become a girl, his way of becoming his true self, and that wish is his desperate attempt to become whole, his cry for help, and that wish was now deeply ingrained into the very fibers of the boy\u2019s DNA.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\nSam was livid. \u201c75 bucks an hour for this?! That\u2019s your official diagnosis? You\u2019ve got to be kidding!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cYes, and no I\u2019m not,\u201d the lady protested, \u201cand that will cost you nothing.\u201d The therapist stood up, ripped up Sam\u2019s check and stormed out.<\/span><\/p>\nSam thought for a brief moment what the therapist had just said, and as she considered its veracity, the realization was unexpectedly thrilling for her, and it seemed to be the clincher. At that moment, that very second, she began to think of her little sissy like everyone else did, as if she were watching a character in a movie wondering what would happen next to the poor little darling. And then it happened, in a flash. \u201cWhy have I been so upset with Tommy? Why?\u201d she asked herself. Instead of frustration and waiting for the story to magically resolve itself, why not participate in the outcome by helping him accept who he, or better yet, she, had already become, thereby writing a romantic love story for her little girl? It was an irresistible proposition. The effort might just guide her little sissy towards inner peace and happiness.<\/span><\/p>\nTommy was her daughter from that moment forward. It was obvious. There was no question about that anymore. Everything had suddenly changed and Tommy\u2019s little secret was an apparent certainty for Samantha. Now, her mind began to fantasize about the possibilities in a similarly spectacular way to her friend Marquesa\u2019s, only her thoughts projected her sissy\u2019s future. She closed her eyes and pictured the day when Tommy was long gone and in his place was the lovely young daughter, shy and unassuming, fashionable, sensitive and magnificently feminine in all that she thought, spoke, believed and dressed. She could see clearly two voluptuous breasts hidden beneath the soft fabric of a lovely print dress, hips rounded like sweet orbs, long hair and a short hemline. But rudely and without warning, a man walked into the picture of her mind from the distance. She gasped as she saw him walking in the direction of her daughter stopping inches behind her and her daughter unaware of the man, like a lion lusting after a lamb. In her mind he was naked, strong and hard, really hard, a man with a deep voice, a mustache and beard and a hairy chest. Yes, he was naked and he was smitten with her little girl. Was that him? The policeman?<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWait a moment!,\u201d she told herself out loud. <\/span><\/p>\nRifling through the papers on her desk, she hurriedly searched for that policeman\u2019s business card. Where was it? Where had she put it? And then she remembered. She pulled on the handle of the bottom left drawer of her desk and lying there, all by itself, was a lonely business card wanting to be loved. Sam lifted the card and read the name aloud.<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cRichard D. Johnson, Sergeant.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\nClosing her eyes again, Sam could see Richard\u2019s face in her mind and Photoshopped it onto the face of the man who had just invaded her imagination. She pictured Richard returning to the spa, still naked and still hard, as he searched for her little girl, and everyone, all of the girls in the salon accepting and befriending him, and helping him to find her little girl wherever she was. Sam saw her. She was hiding. At least she was trying to hide but not doing a very good job of it. And then she saw Richard coming by the house unannounced in his patrol car, walking up to the front door of her house, relentlessly, tirelessly, endlessly pursuing her defenseless little girl, coming to get her, the little thing begging her mommy, on her knees, for help, with tears, big tears, help which would never come. She imagined what she would say to her daughter at that moment with Richard standing in the room with her, as she heard her own voice proclaim in a soft, but confident voice, \u201cYou\u2019re a girl now and girl\u2019s need boys. Richard loves you and wants you. You are his now. You are his property, his wife. He owns you.\u201d And with that she imagined taking her little girl by the hand and pushing her little girl into Richard\u2019s arms, his body still naked and still very much hard, causing the girl\u2019s unquestionably ultimate surrender when the poor dear realized it was no use. She could neither defeat this man nor ever escape him. Sam then saw the couple\u2019s romantic courtship, their first kiss and thousands of kisses thereafter, the two of them walking hand-in-hand with her little girl\u2019s heels clicking upon pavement, her little girl wrapping her weak arms around Richard\u2019s shoulders holding on for dear life, Richard\u2019s most public marriage proposal on one knee, her little girl in a white wedding dress, the wedding attended by everyone including the one and only girl her little sissy had ever kissed, and then, the nights, the long nights alone in bed as man and wife. She pictured Richard impolitely thrusting his naked body into her daughter\u2019s tight orifice, the one in back and then saw her daughter on her knees, worshipping her husband’s aching cock with her mouth, lips and tongue. At that moment, after the therapist had left her office and upon her delivering the startling news, when Samantha viewed the most titillating epiphany, she unconsciously slipped her hand under her blouse and felt how hard her nipple had become. She squeezed and caressed her own breast and tried to imagine her daughter\u2019s impaled cries at being infiltrated by her husband. The only reference she had was when the last time she uplifted her skirt thereby bending her little sissy over her lap and spanking the naughty little thing’s ass as hard as she could. Those sounds. It was like the end of the world for her little sissy. He was 16 then and she remembered the copious hair brush as it loudly smacked against soft flesh, a violent event which coupled with those most delightful sounds of helplessness and pain. That is what she remembered next. Those sounds. Samantha could hear them again as if over the spa\u2019s intercom and they seemed to merge with the images of Richard having his way with her sissy, those enchanting, charming sounds — the sound of her little sissy, her vulnerable, little daughter, crying, screaming, begging while being ravaged by her insatiable husband, over and over and over again. Sam felt her heart beat uncontrollably in her breast and clutched her nipple between her thumb and forefinger. \u201cOh, how exciting!,\u201d she thought to herself. \u201cHow exciting for Tammy.\u201d Tammy? That was it. That was truly it! And Tammy was born in the mind of her mommy.<\/span><\/p>\nSamantha demanded Tommy call her \u201cMommy.\u201d If he was going to be a little sissy she would make life hard for him. Of course things had changed but this rule wouldn\u2019t. 21 or not.<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cUm, Marquesa, my mommy sent me to ask you if you would like a drink of champagne,\u201d Tommy inquired.<\/span><\/p>\nTommy had been intimately coached by his mommy what to say and do upon entering the luxury suite in this all-important introduction, and as Samantha gleefully watched and listened to the proceedings from her office on the second floor, she was pleased how Tommy had obediently followed her instructions by kneeling next to the young girl administering Marquesa\u2019s foot massage. Her plan was under way! Tommy had been instructed to bow his head after delivering his offer, but by doing so the camera around his head barely captured Marquesa\u2019s face in the corner enough to see her expressions.<\/span><\/p>\nHalf asleep, Marquesa breathed in and then released one obviously irritated exhale. She lifted an eyelid for a glimpse of the girl who had disturbed her peace, but this was no girl. What was it? Marquesa expected to see a young lady behind that sweet voice. Instead she got Sam\u2019s son. Or, daughter. Which was it? \u201cOh my god!,\u201d she said. \u201cYou sound just like a girl.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\nThe two young attendants both giggled out loud. \u201cTommy is a girl,\u201d one of them supposed. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cIt\u2019s his little secret, Marquesa,\u201d the girl continued. \u201cYou need to know this about Tommy. Aren\u2019t you?,\u201d she asked. \u201cCome on. Admit it!\u201d <\/span><\/p>\nTommy didn\u2019t say a word. How embarrassing! He simply bowed his head even farther and looked sad. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cThis is so delicious,\u201d Marquesa interjected. She was unreservedly enthralled by the sissy kneeling beneath her, just as Samantha anticipated she would be. He was a canvas to Marquesa to which she could paint the loveliest work of feminine art, and she would, immediately!<\/span><\/p>\nThe girl, the troublemaker, that girl was one of Tommy\u2019s greatest enemies. Her attacks were unremitting, but what did he ever do to her? Nothing. Her name was Bobbi and she was his Mommy\u2019s pet employee. Bobbi was being groomed by Samathan to be the spa\u2019s first official manager. <\/span><\/p>\nOn her knees and engaged in caressing and kissing Marquesa\u2019s jet black nylon encased legs and feet, Bobbi stopped what she was doing and wrapped her arms around one of Marquesa\u2019s legs and while resting her chin upon Marquesa\u2019s exposed thigh, looked at Tommy, and asked, \u201cOh, are you going to cry you little sissy? You’re a delicate little baby,\u201d and she uproariously while impatiently waiting and watching for the first tear to fall, a wicked little smile across her face. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cCome on!,\u201d she encouraged the little sissy. \u201cCome on sissy, we want to see some tears.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\nMarquesa wanted to see the tears fall too. Everyone, all three ladies stood silent and fixed their glares upon the little boy as two watery tears welled up in each eye before cascading down humble cheeks. The girl on her knees, the instigator, laughed and then laughed again while looking up at Marquesa, who smiled down in agreement.<\/span><\/p>\nMarquesa extended her left hand beneath the boy\u2019s chin, replete with its long, freshly manicured nails, tenderly lifting it so she could look straight into his eyes. Her stare was penetratingly direct, she glared with the brightness of the sun on a hot day, and Tommy wanted to look away, but didn\u2019t. She was too powerful and he was smart enough to know she had lifted his chin for a reason. He needed to obey her. Marquesa leaned forward enough to make the leathery chair announce her movement. It was one of those soft reclining numbers like out a dentist\u2019s office. Bobbi wondered what she was doing as her position remained between Marquesa\u2019s legs. \u201cYou\u2019re fine baby. Don’t move,\u201d she advised the girl with a smile. And then, without so much as a warning, she lunged forward slapping the boy\u2019s cheek with her right hand, a direct hit, sending those tears flying off his sweet skin. Tommy\u2019s head jerked sideways and then back again. He held his cheek with his hand and looked up at Marquesa in disbelief. The sound of the slap was so intimidating that neither of the girls in the room uttered a word. The manicurist gawked motionless, but Bobbi, loving what had just happened, stared at the boy and smiled.<\/span><\/p>\nMarquesa looked deep into Tommy’s liquidy eyes and said, \u201cIf you need a reason to cry, young lady, I would be happy to provide one for you. I like to make naughty girls like you cry. I do it for a living, and nothing would give me more pleasure.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\nMarquesa adjusted the camera lens atop the boy\u2019s head which had been dislodged. It now pointed in her direction. The camera resembled the embarrassing headgear worn by brace faces of the 80s and 90s, Marquesa recollected. Looking into the camera, she smiled at her friend Samantha conscious that her friend was watching everything, and she began sifting her long nails through Tommy\u2019s hair. Two more tears fell down the boy\u2019s face. <\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWhy yes, I would love a glass of champagne.\u201d Once a lady savored the sweet taste of humiliating a male, she wanted more and it was no different for Marquesa who loved it so much. If only she and Tommy were alone, she would have kicked the sissy silly, slapped his face several more times, grabbed a handful of hair and yanked, hard. That\u2019s what she really wanted to do if only they were alone. She would have loved to make the sissy cry some more. It wasn\u2019t the right time. Perhaps later, she thought. <\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd then I think I need to have a little talk with your mommy about you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Chapter One \u201cMarquesa\u201d Marquesa\u2019s school was the first of its kind, a revolution of female progression in a world where \u201cfeminism\u201d had become a lost cause in recent years as it slowly faded away into oblivion. In its place, an illegitimate and clandestine sister had materialized, her name called \u201cfemale supremacy,\u201d and she began to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":74,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[8,4],"tags":[271,112,683,24,39,71,411,682,14],"class_list":["post-2510","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-inspired-by-goddess-marquesa","category-stories","tag-control","tag-crossdress","tag-female-supremacy","tag-humiliation","tag-marquesa","tag-obedience","tag-sissy","tag-training-academy","tag-transformation"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p2FCuA-Eu","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2510","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/74"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2510"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2510\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2512,"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2510\/revisions\/2512"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2510"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2510"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hypno-erotica.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2510"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}