Is it normal to wish i was in college today rather than in the 70’s?

Yes and no really. After my mother died I lived with my grandparents. My grandfather was a carpenter and ran his own business making handmade furniture. I would spend hours in his workshop, I loved working with wood and he promised when I finished school he would take me on as his apprentice and eventually take over his business. Sadly he had a heart attack and died when I was 15, so that never happened , but I knew by then I wanted to be a carpenter so I had signed up for a carpentry course at college.

By the time I was told I was being removed from my course for being a girl, a lot of the other courses were full so I had very limited options. I ended up on a secretarial course which I didn’t really want to do, but apparently was far more appropriate for me than carpentry, because all girls should be good at typing and office work.

My grandmother never got over my grandfather’s death and gradually went downhill, eventually having a nervous break down. By the time I finished college she had sold the family home and business and after a stint in a mental health facility she moved to a 1 bedroom council flat. I managed to find a job as a hotel receptionist with the option to live in. Unfortunately about 4 years later the hotel went bust and I lost my job and home. Unemployment was at an all time high here in England, so with no place to live, no job and no family able to support me I was in a desperate place. After applying unsuccessfully for dozens of jobs, the only work I could find was a job in a disgusting seedy strip club, working as a topless bar maid. I hated my work, it was degrading and humiliating. The hours were long and my uniform consisted of a thong, a tiny miniskirt and a pair of high heels. As much as I hated it I was in a desperate place so felt I had no choice but to carry on. The money was reasonably good, but I soon learnt the pole dancing girls in the club earned much more. I figured these disgusting men were already leering at me, and whenever I had to go round collecting glasses they would be touching and groping at me whenever they got the chance. If they were caught they could get thrown out, but when it was busy the chances of that happening were almost zero. So I decided to try out to become one of the pole dancers. As a young girl I had done gymnastics and dancing lessons. I had always kept fit and could still do the splits and could lift my leg all the way up above my head. I easily got accepted as a dancer, and although it meant my attire was reduced to heels and a thong for a club dance, or just heels for a private dance, I was at least protected from the groping hands.

I quickly became one of the most popular girls. I would constantly be booked for private dances which were far more profitable. I made a fortune, but unlike a lot of the girls who spent all their earnings on booze drugs and cigarettes, I saved mine. They said it helped them get through the shift, but to me if these men were stupid enough to hand over their hard earned cash, to stare at something they could never have, then I was not going to waste the opportunity to take the money and save up to get me out of this humiliating lifestyle. I never took drugs in my life and had already given up smoking. I made a deal with myself never to drink alcohol before or during work and by the end of the shift I would be so tired I just wanted to go home to sleep. So I saved, when I had enough money I bought a small flat, eventually I bought a little house and rented out the flat. Then when my tenant moved out I moved back to the flat and rented out the house as I realised I could get much more for it. Eventually I bought another house then another, then I bought a large run down empty house and had it made into 4 flats. The money I was making from my rentals was enough to give up dancing but by then I was so accustomed to dancing naked in front of these dirty old men that I got greedy and decided to carry on because I was still making a fortune from it. Then one night in the early hours I got out of my taxi and as I was opening my front door a man jumped out of the shadows and grabbed me. He forced me inside and then proceeded to rape me. I tried to fight him off but he was big and strong and overpowered me. I recognised him as one of the customers from the club and he was later charged but was never convicted. DNA was in its infancy back then and the police basically had the attitude that as a stripper I obviously should expect it.

After that I decided it was time to give up the dancing and concentrate on my property portfolio.

I am now a multimillionaire. But I am ‘damaged goods’. I have zero respect for men, I live in a relationship with an extremely submissive man, who I keep locked in a chastity cage most of the time. I have a high sex drive and demand a lot of pampering, massages, foot tickling and daily orgasms. He is rarely allowed any sexual relief, I milk his prostrate weekly and often remove his cage and tease him. He will beg me to let him cum but it has been months since his last orgasm and that was ruined. When I deny him and lock him back up he will sometimes cry and go off and sulk afterwards. But he always comes back and apologises and thanks me for not giving in to his pathetic desires. I have him dress in female attire at all times because I don’t want to be reminded of his maleness. He used to be one of my maintenance workers, that’s how I first met him. We started our relationship a few years ago then after he moved in with me I told him I was going to sack him from his job and feminise him. He would need to agree to live in a high level, female led relationship with no safe words. There would be no trial period, I would basically own him. The only way out for him would be for him to end our relationship. I would give him the opportunity to do that once a year on the anniversary of him moving in with me. If he wants to end things then I will give him £50 000 pounds for every year we have been together. In the meantime he owns nothing except his extensive wardrobe of feminine clothes, shoes, bags etc and his makeup. If he chooses to leave at any other time in our relationship he gets nothing unless it’s due to some sort of medical or mental health issues in which case I will do whatever is necessary to support him.

So did I become a success or a broken multimillionaire? I’m not entirely sure, but I am happy and apparently so is my partner.

I see.....