New Years Eve for Charlie

Charlie showered and watched her while shaving his legs, chest, and underarms for the second time that day, knowing how good the satiny feel of the blouse and pantyhose was going to be on his shaved body. Drying himself off, he did his makeup and donned his clothes, pulling the panties and pantyhose gingerly over his red, marked, and swollen buttocks, a reminder of his bad behavior and his submission to Mistress Pam. He capped it all off with large clip-on bangle earrings which swung around every time he moved his head, forcing the embarrassing feeling of femininity at every movement.

Adjusting the wig and making sure his hem was straight on his skirt he slipped into his high heels and joined the gang of girls in the living room to bring 2017 in by serving drinks to his three owners, for he knew he was a kept woman to these three females, and he was grateful for every second of every minute of every hour of every day for their dominance, but not just their dominance, their acceptance of his character, his submissive femininity as an offset to his available strength of masculinity when needed. Here, with them, he could be what he wanted to be. His soul was exposed to them and they took it with respect and gave theirs back to him.

The countdown started: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...Happy New Year!

The four of them embraced and kissed, their lipsticks mingling with each other's in a unity and passion unmatched by most politically correct marriages. They stood back from the group hug, raised their glasses to 2017, smiled knowingly at each other, and drank an unspoken toast.

How did life turn out this way, each of them wondered silently, finding each other like this?

This was a perfect unity of bizarre desires and needs that could never be explained and understood by a vanilla world. And they knew they didn't need to. Each of them was unique, each of them strange and bizarre, but they had found each other and they could count on each other.

Life was good, very, very good.