She giggled a moment when I handed her the blue glass, keeping the pink one for myself. I felt the heat rush to my face - I felt as exposed to her as ...f she could read the tattoo that marked me - yes, under the power of Miss's eyes, I was just a sissy slut.I was fighting to concentrate on the beautiful woman in front of me as we talked and laughed. I couldn't stand to look at her face - her eyes seemed so empty and lifeless in comparison - so my eyes drifted over her body, from the cleavage. I haven’t allowed my condition to make me miserable, on the contrary, I have found ways around it. I have my own way of seeing colors. Heat is red, cold is blue. Warmth on my face from the sun is yellow. The smell of newly cut grass is green. Sadness to me is a deep purple and happiness a bright pink. Black…well nothing is merely black or white for me…I see everything in shades of gray. I can see better in the darkness than I can during the day. During the day I wear dark, tinted, wraparound. More

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