‘I’ve been a very naughty boy’. I could tell by looking at him that
this was true.

I knew that he wanted punishing and he knew I was the woman (or
transsexual) for the job. I was at the Taxi Club, wearing lingerie
and carrying a riding crop. It doesn’t take a genius to join the dots.

It was fun. He was naughty. I did punish him and it was everything I’d
hoped for.

I could be good at this. I could probably charge for this.

There’s a back story to this.

The last few weekends have been tragic. I’ve not had much in the way
of action and the action I’ve had has been pathetic.

I was beginning to doubt my allure. There was a high point about 6
weeks ago when Brittany and I had this 4-way in that Hotel on Flinders
Street, and it’s all been down hill from there.

After that there was one tryst with a Turkish insurance agent in the
back seat of a Fiat Punto.

The Fiat Punto was designed by Italians. By good Catholic car
designers. These people know about sin. They know about trannies like
me and there was no way they were going to design a car that let
people like me do the devil’s work in the back seat.

It was a debacle.

The week before that, some random guy offered me coke in exchange for
‘touching’ me ‘down there’ in the toilets at Arq. After the coke he
chickened out and said he was ‘not ready’. Not ready for me? Not ready
for a tranny? Not ready for sex in a nightclub toilet? It struck me as
strange to score coke, then proposition a tranny, then get in to a
cubicle with a tranny only to freak out at the last minute? Go figure.

There’s more. Or less actually. It’s not that I didn’t get attention;
it’s just that I’ve been attracting the wrong kind of men. With the
wrong kind of cars. It’s was three weeks of fumbling, muttering,
groping and apologies. Three weeks of crap sex and disappointment.

So on Saturday night I decided to accessorise with a riding crop. Just
for the hell of it.

If I’d known how effective it was going to be I would have joined the
‘horsey set’ a long time ago.

I’m not a dominant person, nor am I submissive. I’m the kind of girl
that goes with the flow. Sure I’ve whipped people before, beaten
people, ground my stilettos into peoples backs, made them lick my
shoes, made them wear nappies and all the usual stuff, but I’ve also
been bound and gagged and humiliated and other things myself, you know
what I mean... anyway, the point is I’m not really into domination.

I figured the whip would just be fun, a conversation piece, you know,
like a gaudy bracelet or something. If I’d only known.

Information like this could change a girl’s life.

I was propositioned four times before 2 am. Four.

It seems that people who like to have the crap whipped out of them by
transsexuals wearing lingerie and carrying a riding crop are quite
forward – they’re happy to be very up-front about their interests.
They will seek you out and make their introductions – ‘I’ve been a
very naughty boy’.

I’m going to do this more often. Maybe once every few weeks. I’d do it
even more often, but it’s not as much fun as you think – I mean
there’s not much in it for me. It just doesn’t do it for me to see
people in pain cowering at my feet telling me how bad they are.

Having said that I’m up for anything, if the mood takes me. I also
love an excuse to dress up. So this is ok every now and again, but I’d
much prefer to be taken to a dinner at a nice restaurant, have a nice
meal, some champagne, maybe a dessert wine, a few lines, maybe a pill
and then have my brains fucked out in a hotel room. Call me old
fashioned, but it’s just the kind of girl I am.

I told Brittany all of this and she laughed her little head off, the
plan is for the both of us to go out next weekend looking like
dominatrixes (is that a word?).

We’ll be at the Taxi Club after about 11.30 then probably hit Arq
after 3am. You’ll recognise us; I’ll be the girl with the copy of
Horse and Hound.

X

Lavinia