Cindy an a CD & another makes 3.... by Mistress DLC's alyssa
A life left unexamined wasn’t worth living. Educated in the Greek classics while studying the wisdom of Latin he’d been given the 1st and 2nd name after the founder of communism by Greenwich Village socialist parents. If he could have changed the reason why later he would have made it be Lagerfeld as in Karl. Having had known since he was young Karl Marx Trotter was aware that something was different about him.
Near 60 alone in his elegant home in a upscale Northern California suburb he looked back free of remorse knowing he willingly had chosen the life of a cross dresser.
Into his teens Karl had cursed himself for growing over 6 feet tall thinking it made him look too tall to be a real woman. He didn’t like his protruding ‘Adam’s apple’ either. At 16 a wicked flu in his sophomore year had him at home dipping his toe in the world of feminine lingerie moving into the deep end of the pool as the years passed he never left. He grew to like the feelings they brought even if they were his religious mother’s clothing.
Thinking back that morning as he waited while sipping his two shot non-fat latte the words of a new age sage echoed in his mind ….‘when binding to an illusion the attachment comes in the sensations’.
By his way of thinking he had seen it all…. if not then most of what life was like as a seasoned crossdresser.
His intellect demanding he move pass the sports and funny page at 17 he had read the papers to see the random reports in the 70’s of CD’s and homosexuals being hauled to police stations by disdainful vice cops. Many of New York’s finest at the time were anything but as they lined their pockets with payoffs. If anything it seemed to make it easier to treat the ‘homo’s, fags, queers, hookers, flashers, lesbo’s and CD’s on Broadway and elsewhere as though they were social deviates if not outcasts.
Growing up in New York one parent a Yankee fan the other rooting for the ‘Amazin’ Mets’ he learned of the ‘Stonewall riots’ and how the event began to alter the narrative. Many open-minded post-Watergate liberals in the country known for its subtle biases despite its claim of tolerance began looking at the 'gay' problem with a different perspective.
Crowds clamoring out front to see Warhol, Bianca, Capote and his constant companion ‘Liza’ as they basked in their illusion of fame one Friday night in back he managed to sneak in. Climbing the wrought iron stairs of the fire escape, itself a post blaze byproduct of the shirtwaist factory tragedy he slipped inside to witness firsthand the magic of the cult of personality within Studio 54.
A seeming haven of the wealthy bored at times with the Hamptons combined with celebrities to take over the club mingling with those that wished they too had the freedom that inherited fortunes bring with.
Coked out dudes from Wall Street sat or more accurately stood next to punk rockers who’d pretended they were creating anarchy. Of course it was in between sips of ‘the Big Apple’s finest ‘Pina Colada’s’ made by Bronx or Brooklyn born bartenders selling as much blow as they could get their hands on. The ‘congo line’ would wind its way through as the confetti dropped on both the straight and gay as though it was free of the moral ambiguity on the dance floor below.
It was the first time Carl saw someone other then a woman wearing the elegant simplicity of Halston. Queens a dime a dozen dancing the night away he knew that feminine world was for him even if 4” pumps would put him over 6’ 5”.
Security caught him the next weekend instead of arresting him he was hired to work after performing his first blow job as way of decadent initiation. 6 months in while cleaning one morning he stumbled onto one of the many hiding places in the walls and ceiling for the cash the club operated on. Stealing away a dozen and a half large bricks of hundreds his timing was perfect as the FBI showed up the following week.
Even the bluster of the closeted Roy Cohn couldn’t stop the arrest of the two owners leaving the club shuttered as it made its way into the lore of what made New York New York the city that never slept.
Putting his money in a safe deposit box Karl returned home to live with his parents while acquiring his college degree at NYU. On the walls of his bedroom the posters of athletes were replaced with those of fashion models and starlets. Like many thinking 'Entertainment Tonight' to be news his hero worship shifted to those of Farrah Fawcett, Naomi Campbell, Cheryl Tiggs, Christie Brinkley, and his Favorite whose first name he would use when his alter ego came out, Cindy Crawford.
His parents passing within months of each other BA degree in hand he’d sold the 4 story building and made Miami Beach his next stop, it was just in time for the Reagan years of ‘just say no’ to drugs but yes to not wishing to solve ‘aids’. Investing wisely he proved the truism of Balzac’s ‘behind every fortune lies a crime’.
Freed to explore the underworld of dungeons populated with Dominatrices from the rise of Female Dominants along with Leather BDSM Masters dressed in black he experienced near all the genre’s and their sub-categories had to offer.
An acquired taste Karl could tick off the list of appetites he indulged in. Lubed vibrators, lingerie, porn acting, vibrating dildo’s, handcuffs, ballgags, makeup, blindfolds, frozen cum, webcams, razors, anal-plugs, couples swinging, CBT, foot fetishes, golden showers, cuckolding, age play, fisting, orgasm control, Drag queens, wrist restraints, cock-gags, stockings, corset’s, stiletto’s and sissy maid uniforms with their pretty petti’s to name just a few.
Certainly the ‘Internet’ with all its ‘on ramps’ had changed the landscape and expanded the participation in classic fetishes while creating new ones the ‘pessonovantes’ of the church would deem moral failings.
Yet he believed the most influential tool of the new millennium were the strap-on dildo followed closely by chastity cages. In the hands of the right Dominatrix they would bring persona changes to subs naïve enough not to realize it.
Who would have thought those two things would free the alpha female beyond the confines of dungeons bringing them into play in the bedrooms of homes as though as normal as carrying in the weekly groceries. Now your every day women could prove they were much more then average as they lifted themselves up by the bootstraps of their leathered stiletto boots moving them higher on the list of the dominant sexual hierarchy.
The shifting landscape even brought with conventions. Erotic-con had plenty for all genders on the spectrum that included the rise of trans yet if a secret vote was taken the attendee’s were there to primarily see the women.it proved the truth of the statement...'the world is ruled by vagina's'.
Considering him to be ‘Bi’ his marriage in his early 30’s ended in divorce 7 years later. The hidden stash of panties was discovered by the woman that had never known of his peculiar tastes, once she left Karl chuckled thinking having just had a recent purge she could have had a lawn sale with all he’d thrown out a mere two weeks before.
For the next twenty years changing his first name to a soften version of Carl he remained single and tried going back to the religion and its church of his youth. He worked as an accountant living with the compromise of indulging in his cross-dressing on weekends. When allowed to come out of the closet CD ‘Cindy’ had many looks and always enjoyed adding to his collection.