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One hour passed since my surrender.

It wasn't a loud affair. No yelling, no shouting, no violence. Anticipation provided the most volatility to the situation. I knew it would happen. We made an arrangement, agreed on a time and place. Every second between the verbal accord and the time I walked into the dark theater, my mind would not shut up.

Far too many thoughts danced about in my head. Which had been a problem for many years. Too much thinking meant frustration, irritation, and often bad decisions. I struggled with it, and yet, I never had an outlet. No way to escape. No way to feel 'adjusted'. I suffered through it, without knowing I suffered.

Was I making the right decision? Could I fulfill my side of the bargain? The fear of getting what I wanted threatened to outweigh the fear I'd never be happy. Or content. Or at least useful. Fulfilled through the fulfillment of another. The overly absurd thoughts gnawed at me, those telling me that maybe I should reconsider.

But why? What was I preserving? Fear? Or even contentment with a rut. Even a bad place can become so familiar it's hard to let it go. And that's where I found myself. I needed to escape. And I finally found the proper way. The one that had been sitting heavily in my chest for years without a definition.

Not only could I describe my need, but my purpose as well. I'd done things the best I could. Watched Youtube videos for makeup. Studied sizes for clothes. Changed habits. Little things. Sitting to pee. Knees touching while sitting. Legs crossed when possible. Panties. Lingerie. Bras. I went for it. But dressing was only a part of the puzzle.

The rest came down to this. Surrender. Ownership. The anticipation of both made the last twelve hours intolerable. I stood outside the door to the theater, trembling. It was cold, and my outfit wasn't warm enough. But that wouldn't matter for long. Which contributed to the anticipation and the cycle of panic.

I'd gone that far. There was no turning back. I'd hate myself if I did. So I refused. I waited until the exact moment I'd been told to enter, and pulled the door, teetering on five inch heels.

I wore a short, black shirt that barely covered my ass. A red thong underneath, gripping my tiny balls and cock. Calling my sex such things was hardly accurate. Certainly could not use the term 'manhood' either. They fit so neatly in panties, it was almost like having a pussy anyway.

Black stay-up stockings went to the middle of my thighs. Black, shiny heels were strapped around my ankles. I wore a white blouse with elastic at the bottom so some of it hung over the skirt. My makeup had become quite good after all the tutorials. And I let my brown hair grow out to a bob.

I stepped inside to a rush of warm wind. The heater had been pumping in there. But it didn't stop me from trembling. Excitement replaced the cold. I made my way forward, fingertips brushing the wall in the dark. I emerged from the hallway with a spotlight cast down on me.

"This is it," his voice boomed through the room. I knew it from the phone. From our video calls. We'd been talking for a long time, but in person, it held so much more authority. "Your point of no return is two steps ahead of you on the floor. If you want, you can turn around. Walk right back out. Be done."

"No, sir..." I whispered.

"I didn't hear you."

"No, sir! I'm not leaving!" My voice trembled. "I want this!"

"Then two steps," he replied. "And go to your knees."

My heart raced. I felt dizzy. I took the first of those steps, my heel clacking on the hard wood. I took a deep breath as I made the second. A

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