Cross-Dressing for Humiliation, Forced Feminization

The Drill Sergeant

On the phone he said he was an ex-army officer, haven risen through the ranks to become some sort of demolitions expert, but one of his earlier assignments had been as a drill sergeant. His fantasy was to be dressed in frilly clothes, complete with wig, stockings, and high-heeled shoes, but no makeup, and then verbally humiliated. The only candidate more desirable for this would be a cop.

When he arrived, I was pleasantly surprised to find a man in his midfifties, still trim and vigorous, about 5 feel 10 inches tall, with good posture, a closely shaved head of dark hair and the kind of face that had a five-o'clock shadow at two in the afternoon. I put him through the usual strip and inspection routine (which he greatly enjoyed and can be found in detail in The Art of Sensual Female Dominance), accepted him as my play partner, and got right into it. Out came the slut lingerie: a red garter belt, black fishnet stockings, the black bra and matching thong, open-toed black leather ankle-strap shoes, and finally, the petticoat—the extra frilly red one that stuck straight out at the waist so his garters and stocking tops would peek out. After he was dressed, I convinced him to let me apply bright red lipstick. I put it on so that it appeared to be a red slash in his swarthy face. He was just so masculine that he looked absolutely ridiculous in that getup. One glance in the mirror and he was utterly humiliated—and we had hardly gotten started.

Then the real fun began. I thought of every marching-around-the-base vignette I had ever seen in a movie and started in. First I told him that his entire troop was watching him, dressed up in this ridiculous manner, and being ordered around by a latex-clad woman. If he displeased me, I would punish him in front of his troops. What could be more humiliating for a drill sergeant? I called out “Ten-Shun!!” The effect was dowright Pavlovian: Upon hearing the word attention, he snapped to, head high, eyes forward. All those years in the military had left their mark, Good! I like a sub who is disciplined and follows orders. So I gave him one of those humiliating names that drill sergeant’s bestow upon their hapless charges (his was "bandy legs") and ordered him around the room. “Your left, your left, right, left, right, left... He wasn't having an easy time of it in his high heels, so, like a drill sergeant, I got right up in his face and began in my best drill-sergeant voice: “You call that walking?!? I call that schtumphing!!! My ninety-year-old grandpa could do a better job!!! Now get down and give me twenty!"

Which he promptly did. He looked pretty damned silly doing pushups in that red petticoat. I laughed out loud. Then, in case he’d forgotten, I passed a remark about his troops watching him. He blanched, I laughed. Ordering him to his feet, I began again. "About face, forward march," "Eyes right," "At ease." Each time he displeased me. I would verbally humiliate him. Doesn’t sound like much, huh? Well, it certainly did the trick for him. Of course, he didn’t execute all of his commands perfectly, so he was punished for his infractions. I ordered him in my drill sergeant’s voice to kneel on the chair and lean over the back of it. When he was in position, I pulled the frilly red petticoat up over his ass and “addressed” his assembled troops. “What you are now going to see is the drill sergeant get his comeuppance blah blah blah. . . .” My drill sergeant was whimpering into the cushions, his cheeks quaking in fear and anticipation.

Each time I hit him with the paddle, he thanked me and asked me for another stroke. In the “background,” his troops roared approval every time a blow landed. (I made that crowd-roaring noise for added effect.)

Perhaps the erotic mind of the man in the story, our petticoated drill sergeant, created a fantasy that could relieve the stress and tension of military life and relieve him of the burden of constantly being strong—a fantasy that could perhaps take him down a peg or two and put him more in touch with himself. The most direct route to that end for a man of his nature and background could easily be the fantasy we enacted. The impact of this on his subordinates would be enormous; his loss of control over them would be complete and permanent, and the repercussions might even ruin his military career. How exciting for him to live out this fantasy with no harm being done to him. And i laughed my ass off.

Forced Feminization

Forced feminization is a favorite of mine. This is when he pretends he doesn’t want to be dressed up as a woman and you have to coerce him into it, whether physically or emotionally. Some forced fems want to be handled roughly and stripped by the domina; others want to be humiliated into stripping themselves. This treatment, the forcing, is usually a punishment of some form. I have been an angry customer who forced the pizza deliver}' boy into women’s clothing, a speeder followed home to gel her driver’s license who then force-femmed the cop, a school principal tired of caning the same boy over and over for trying to kiss the girls in the playground who turned the tables on him and made him into a girl, and other scenarios too numerous to remember.

It has been my experience that many Japanese men are into some form of forced feminization and it suits them so perfectly—physically and psychologically. With their smaller bone structures, and their “winter” complexions, an Asian man is much easier to make passable than his American or European counterpart. The repressed slut in the tale of woe below wore a size 7 shoe. I wear an 8'A. And because they come from a society where women are still somewhat repressed, or at least looked upon as lesser citizens, to be forced to dress like a slut and be treated like a woman of low stature can be very exciting.