Fetish Bondage
Sissy Slave to be
Chapter 2
Lizzy got off of me and removed the restraints. I rubbed my wrists to get the blood flowing in them again. I sat up and looked down at my locked up clitty. Lizzy was right. It was the smallest it had ever been. I can only imagine the picture she sent Tiffany. Probably her holding her pinky next to it to show how little it actually was. I remembered how Lizzy had said that Tiffany said it looked “smaller than a baby’s” and that started the blood flowing again. I could only imagine what she may say then next time she saw me in person and her always thinking that I was hung like a baby in real life.
I got up and Lizzy said, “You should start getting ready, we are going to be on a tight schedule already as it is and playing with your sissy clitty took up too much time already.”
I replied, “sure, I will get to it right way.”
“Remember the “mistress”, I want you in the right frame of mind even if you aren’t in your dress yet. I am going to take complete control and you have to be willing,” she said.
“Yes mistress,” I replied and cast my eyes down in a submissive nature.
“Now get made up and dressed, so the fun can begin,” she instructed.
“Yes mistress, but shouldn’t you start getting ready as it takes you longer to get ready for our events?” I asked.
“Who said anything about an event? Now get ready and come downstairs,” she said.
“Yes mistress,” I replied. The wheels turning in my mind with possible scenarios that were likely to come.
I went into the bathroom and dried my shoulder length brunette hair the rest of the way. I looked in the mirror and saw a long string of precum dangling from the end of my chastity. I took my finger and scooped it up on the fingertip. The string of precum dangling from the end and raised my finger up and lowered the precum into my mouth, something I wouldn’t dream of doing if mistress would have allowed for me to cum.
I took a headband with rhinestones, one of my favorite to wear when applying my makeup, and pulled my shoulder length hair away from my face. I applied a generous base foundation on my smooth face, in case it was a longer night out than I had thought. I didn’t want a 5 o’clock shadow coming through and clicking the switch in my mind back to male mode. My eyebrows had been waxed two weeks ago on our last sissy outing to the salon so there was no need for a touch up. I applied my eyeshadow in two layers to accentuate my long feminine eyelashes that I had been lucky enough to be born with. I used to hate them when I was younger as I was teased about it incessantly but now they were an asset as both a male and a female as they accentuated my baby blue eyes. A layer of white eyeshadow was applied right under the eyebrows and a dark pink was applied to the eyelids so that they would match my sissy maid uniform. With a hand steady as a surgeons I applied my eyeliner making sure to add a little “v” at the end of the eyes. I applied a light application of mascara to make my “covergirl model” eyelashes look even longer than they already were. Next came the blush on the cheeks; an upstroke brush on each side. A trick I had learned as I got better at doing my makeup to accentuate my high cheek bones. Last I took my lip liner and outlined my lips making them look fuller and lusher. Lizzy still teases me that I like to do my makeup like a tramp and that only girls from the 80’s would do their lips that way but I still love how it looks. I filled in the lines with some wet pink lipstick to match the look.
The look in the mirror was perfect. A fully made up face with a trim man’s body with a tiny penis, or clitty as mistress liked to call it, locked up in a small pink chastity device. I checked my makeup and made sure that nothing was out of place then removed the rhinestone headband to work on my hair. I was unsure how I should do my hair for this evening’s fun so I decided to ask for Lizzy to help out. I called down to Lizzy, “Mistress would you be able to help your sissy with her hair tonight?”
Lizzy came up the stairs and let out a little giggle when she saw me. “You look very pretty sissy, I was hoping you would ask for some help,” she said. “Take a seat on the edge of the whirlpool tub and we will get you all pretty for your big night. Lizzy placed a towel on the edge of the tub and instructed me to sit. “We don’t want you little sissy tooshie getting cold, I think your little parts have had enough of the cold already,” she said laughing.
I took my seat as she instructed and sat there while she pulled out the necessary tools to do my hair. I was turned away from the mirror as Lizzy insisted that I could not see the final product until she was done. I sat on the towel with my legs together with my locked clitty between my legs to give it the illusion that I was smooth between my legs. Lizzy pulled out the hair clips and bunched the hair from the top into a pile and clipped it place by applying a pink crocodile clip so that she could work on the lower section of the hair. I felt her take up the first section of the hair in her hand and twist it in the curling iron. She release the strand of hair from the iron and I felt the hot curl drop against the side of my face. I was thankful that mistress had insisted that I sit on a towel as I felt my clitty quiver and precum drip out. She repeated the process having me turn this way and turn that way, bunching up my hair and fastening it with pink clips until she stood back and viewed her work. She reached into the bathroom closet and produced a can of hairspray and applied it to her work. Taking time after each spray to step back and “fluff” a section of hair here or there until it met her approval.
Lizzy said, “Let’s get you up sissy and take a look at my pretty girl.”
I stood up hoping that the towel had soaked up my excitement, but felt a strand of precum running from my chastity down my leg almost reaching my left knee. Mistress saw this too and instructed me to stop where I was.
“I have no idea how you are going to make it through the night tonight when you insist on making a mess with everything you do? Stand here and don’t you dare move toward that mirror until I come back,” she said.
I stood in place with my head down. I could feel the full curls against my face and couldn’t help but release another thin line of precum from the tip of my locked chastity and watch as it fell to the bathroom floor. As it touched the ground Lizzy walked into the bathroom and said, “I swear I have never seen so much cum come out of a sissy’s clitty as yours has in the last 20 minutes.”
I could have told mistress that there was more when I was doing my makeup but then I would have to explain how I had consumed it like a greedy girl in one of the adult movies that we watched together on occasion.
“Well what do you have to say for yourself sissy?” she asked.
I kept my head down and replied, “Sorry mistress, you know how dressing pretty and getting special attention turns me on. I can’t help that I get so turned on and drip all over the place.”
Lizzy looked at me and said, “Well maybe you are more girl than either of us realized, getting all wet when you get turned on. I thought real men got hard when they were excited, not soft and dripping wet. I have a temporary solution for our problem right now and we will have to find a more permanent one later, but first you have to take care of the mess you made when I was out of the room for LESS THAN 30 seconds. Thankfully that towel soaked up your other mess when I was doing your hair but you will have to clean this mess up. Get on your knees sissy and clean up your sissy milk for mistress.”
I dropped to my knees and grabbed the towel that I had been sitting on when mistress was doing my hair and reached to wipe up the precum puddle that had formed when mistress grabbed the towel and asked, “What do you think you are doing sissy?”
I replied, “Cleaning up the mess as you instructed mistress.”
“Not with my towels you are not. You already made a mess of this one and it is covered in precum. You are not spreading more all over my bathroom floor. Bend down and use your tongue to clean up your mess. You know it is what you want to do anyway,” she said.
I bent over and put my face close to the puddle of precum I had made on the floor and stuck out my tongue. I was grateful that the cleaning lady had come the day before so I knew the floor was clean but I was more worried that I would mess up my makeup or get cum in my hair, so I touched it with the tip of my tongue first. I tasted the salty thin puddle of “sissy milk” on the floor. I retracted my tongue with the precum back into my mouth and savored the taste. Normally the thought of eating cum turns me on until it comes to the actual task after I am allowed release, but when I haven’t t had any release eating cum comes naturally as it feels like it puts me in my place as the sissy. I bent my face back down and felt my hair fall around my face as I lapped up the mess I had made on the floor. I heard another “click” from Lizzy’s camera phone and the telltale “swoosh” as another text message went out.
Lizzy laughed and said, “Tiffany is loving your transformation. She said you look like a little puppy eating off of the floor. She still can’t believe that you are licking cum up off the floor so readily. I told her I told you to grab a towel but you begged me to let you do it with your tongue!”
I couldn’t believe what I heard and I wasn’t sure if what Lizzy was saying was true but I had heard the distinct sound of the “swoosh” of a text being sent and, as if to read my mind, I heard the ping of a received text, followed by Lizzy laughing.
“Tiffany used her photo editor and put poodle ears on your head and a tail coming out of your ass,” Lizzy said laughing uncontrollably. Lizzy turned her phone to me to show me what had her laughing so hard and I saw it. There I was my tongue hanging out with precum dangling off the end. My done up hair had two white “poof balls” edited onto my head and a white tail with a “poof ball” at the end. To top it off at the top of the screen I saw the name “Tiffany” so I knew the message was real. “I think we might have a new idea for a future outing but we will have to save that for another day as tonight is all laid out.” My face burned red with shame knowing that my uncontrollable need to submit and horniness had turned me into a cum loving pet. To top it all off a picture of my shame modified to make me look like a common house pet was out there now and I am sure a topic of conversation the next time we got together.
I finished cleaning the floor of all precum with my tongue, greedily lapping up the last spots and looked up at Mistress with me still on all fours. My cock hardening in my chastity over my ordeal and the humiliation of another person seeing me, not as a person but, as a pet; causing my locked clitty to stick out between my legs behind me.
Lizzy said, “On your feet sissy; time to take care of your leaking problem.” And with that she produced my pink ruffled satin panties. They were a custom order as part of the maid uniform. Two layers of satin to encase the sissy’s clitty with rows of white lace surrounding them and a little pink bow on the front to top it all off. Lizzy said, “I have made a little modification so I know where you are at all times tonight and have sewn some jingle bells into the ruffles. I think I went a little overboard with the bells but I was too excited.” There sewn into the panties were twenty little bells that all jingled at the slightest movement. “Now step into the panties sissy girl so you can finish getting ready for your big night.”
I lifted my legs and Lizzy slid them up my freshly shaved legs and I started to drip again. Lizzy said, “Two layers of satin may not be enough.” And with that she dug under the counter and produced a large panty liner. “This should help with all that sissy milk dripping out,” she said, “we don’t want it looking like you piddled your panties tonight.” She removed the adhesive cover from the panty liner and affixed it into the crotch of the satin panties and pulled them up the rest of the way, encasing my locked up clitty in layers of satin and lace that jingled with every breath I took.
I stood there and Lizzy finally said, “Now you may take a look at how pretty of a girl you have become.”
I said, “Thank you Mistress” and turned and looked at myself in the full length mirror. Starting back at me as the image of a developing girl. I looked from the bottom up. My smooth legs leading to thick ruffled panties covered with little silver bells. My hairless stomach leading to a flat chest that could have been a teenage girls developing hoping that one day she had large breasts. My face made up like a china dolls, all topped off with hair curled and teased to look like a runway model. I felt my clitty stiffen and was thankful that Mistress had put the panty liner in.
Lizzy walked up behind me and gave my nipples a tweak. “I can tell you love how you look and are all worked up with the fun we had before this. I am going to go downstairs to finish up work. Come down when you are dressed and we will get things moving for tonight.”
I replied, “Yes Mistress” and curtseyed like I would if I had my dress on. Pinching my fingers like I was holding the hem of my skirt and bowing with my head down and my knee slightly bent. This caused Lizzy to giggle and say “now don’t be playing with yourself or starting at yourself in the mirror too long, you have lots of work to do.” And with that she left the room.
I knew it wouldn’t take me much longer to get fully dressed but it took some time to tear my eyes away from the mirror and get back onto the task that Mistress told me to do. I was snapped out of my trance by Lizzy yelling, “I don’t hear those bells jingling. You better get your butt moving sissy.” With that I turned from the mirror and got back on the task of getting dressed.
I unzipped the protective cover over my pink formal sissy maid dress. It is a custom made dress from birchplace that Lizzy gave me as a birthday present. The dress is baby pink and zips up into a choker where a lock can be affixed at the back to make sure the dress doesn’t come off. The pink is accentuated with white lace all around the sleeves and hems. The dress has a white lace pinafore that locks in the back all of this is accentuated with layers of petticoats that cause the skirt to stand out almost like a ballerina tutu. The outfit is topped off with white stay up nylons where the lace top is clearly visible and a pair of pink and white six inch locking heels with a pink bow at the toes. This outfit is typically reserved for going out to special events as it shows a clear view of my pantied bottom and stocking tops, a view that most dominants prefer while serving them at fetish events.
I was positive that Lizzy had found an event that I was not aware of and I was excited about standing on stage and being judged with other sissies based on my appearance and my knowledge as serving as a submissive maid. I rolled my sheer white stockings and slid my foot in savoring the feeling of the nylon on my shaved legs, sending a slight shiver up my back and inside my panties. Next I pulled out my white lace underwire bra. A respectable size 40C and reached behind my back and fastened the clasp. I reached inside each bra cup and pulled on my chest toward the middle of the bra to add the illusion of a little cleavage. I topped off the full breast look by inserting C-cup breast forms. The bra was thin enough so that the nipples on the breast forms were prominent enough through a thin shirt to look I was a woman whose “high beams” were on and draw eyes from my face to my breasts. I stood in the mirror now seeing a woman in lingerie staring back at me and turned this way and that and heard the bells jingle while I twerked my ass in the mirror.
Satisfied that my underwear was sexy enough for the competition I thought I was preparing for I slid into my dress. I stepped into the dress and slid the satin fabric over my smooth body as I did not want to ruin my hair or makeup. I felt the coolness against my hairless body and a tingle in my panties. I slid my arm into the puffy quarter sleeves and reached behind my back to zip up the dress. I pulled the zipper to the top and felt the choker collar snug. I pulled down on the dress to align the waist with my waist and twirled in the mirror, causing the bells on my panties to jingle very loudly. I heard Lizzy call from the office.
“Is my little sissy playing with herself after Mistress warned her not to?” Lizzy called out.
I stopped twirling and replied, “No mistress, sorry mistress” I was just twirling in my dress.
Lizzy laughed, “You better stop looking at yourself in that mirror and finish dressing that pantied ass.”
“Yes mistress”, I replied and set back to finishing my attire. Having secured my dress I stepped into my petticoats. They were so full that I had to lay them on the ground to find the opening. I slowly pulled them up enjoying the feeling take me over as I transformed from woman to mincing sissy. I hiked the petticoats up to a level so they showed just below the hem of my dress. I smoothed out the dress so that they lay perfectly over the petticoat again and went to twirl, but stopped myself remembering Mistress’s warning just a few minutes ago. I slid the pinafore over my head and secured the four straps so that it pulled in to accentuate my waist and lay over the skirt at the 45 degree angle that the petticoats held it at. I sat down on the bed and opened up my shoe box and found my locking 6-inch heels. The heels were patent white leather accentuated with a pink leather strap running around the heel and a pink bow at the open toe. Mistress had ordered them with a locking strap so that once they were locked on there was no getting them off without the key. I always wait until last to put them on as I knew my feet would be sore before the night was over. I slipped each foot into the heel and locked them on. I stood up admiring my nylon clad legs in the towering heels. I walked to the vanity mirror, wiped the small traces of precum I missed when licking it off the floor and touched up my makeup.
I opened the last box that was part of my sissy maid uniform and removed the little pink satin hat. I placed it on my curled hair and affixed it with bobby pins. I did one last look in the mirror, turned sideways and flipped the back of my dress to expose my pantied ass and walked out the bedroom door.
I walked to the office where mistress was finishing up on the phone and stood silently until she acknowledged me. Lizzy hung up the phone and looked at me smiling. “You make sure the darling sissy maid, jenny.” I loved how she addresses me as a girl when I am dressed as one and she knows it so keeps in the spirit of things.
“Thank you mistress,” I said as I curtseyed.
“Well kneel down so we can lock on your dress,” she said.
I kneeled down as I felt her loop the padlock, then heard the distinct click. The click meant that I was at her mercy as long as she decided, or as long as I decided, or so I thought as this time was going to be different. She instructed me to rise and I stood and handed her the key to the locks on my heels.
“Well it looks like you are about ready for your night sissy,” she said. “Now it is my turn to get ready. I want you to clean the kitchen and the dining room, while I freshen up. Do you understand sissy?”
“Yes mistress, but don’t you want me to help you into your corset and your lingerie?” I asked. Preparing mistress in her fetish attire was one of my favorite tasks as the sissy maid. I loved lacing her in her corset and helping her into her micro miniskirts. She dressed for events in a way that would make a man’s jaw drop and leave his mouth open when she would walk by. Her corset pushing her breasts up so that they were all but popping out of their cups, leaving very little to the imagination.
“Now sissy, I told you not to question me. Go take care of your chores and I will be down when I am ready,” she said. And with that she turned and walked to the bed room while I walked into the kitchen still wondering what the night held but expecting it to be another trophy in the collection for my appearance and skill in service as the sissy maid. Was I ever wrong.
Sissy Maid to Be… Ch. 03
bymissjennymaid©
Jeremy: A married crossdresser who loves to live out his crossdressing fantasies with his supportive wife.
Lizzy: Jeremy’s wife who participates in his sissy maid desires every other Friday when they have the place to themselves.
Jeremy has transformed into Jenny in her pink satin and lace sissy maid outfit that is worn for events and competition. Sissy jenny doesn’t know of any event but is expecting an evening of public humiliation out of the house. What the actual plan is will be a surprise she never thought would happen…
I was done up in my custom-made dress from birchplace that Lizzy gave me as a birthday present. The baby pink maid uniform that zips up into a choker had the pad lock affixed at the back to make sure the dress doesn’t come off and keeps me completely under her control. The pink is accentuated with white lace all around the sleeves and hems. I was doing my best to make sure my white lace pinafore and layers of petticoats that that cause the skirt of the uniform to flare out stayed dry while I was doing the dishes as mistress was getting ready. My feet were starting to ache standing at the kitchen sink for so long in my 6 inches heels, but I was unable to do anything to give them a reprieve as they were locked on as well. My lace ruffled panties were encasing my sissy clitty, but I was unable to enjoy the feeling as Lizzy had locked my little thing up in the pink chastity device. I stood at the sink finally completing the dishes and putting them away and moved to clear the dining area table. The bells that Lizzy had sewn in jingling with each movement.
Lizzy called down from the bedroom, “That is exactly what I love hearing. My little sissy jenny doing her chores like a good girl. Make sure you get the tables cleared and when you are done go stand in the corner until I come down for you.” Lizzy had designated a spot in the corner of the kitchen by the fridge where I was instructed to stand when not needed when in my sissy maid role. She knew I disliked it as it made me feel like a little kid being punished and I felt, at times, that she forgot that I was standing there with my nose pressed in the corner waiting for her to need me.
I dragged out cleaning the tables as long as I could but eventually, they were shining so that I could see my reflection in them. I obediently walked over to the corner, put my heels together and made sure my knees were touching, flattened the front of my dress and pinafore, and put my nose into the corner. I could hear Lizzy upstairs moving around and was dying to have a seat and give my feet a rest.
I heard Lizzy call down, “Sissy is everything ready and are you in your corner?”
I replied, “Yes mistress, my tasks are complete, and I am standing in my sissy spot.”
Lizzy replied, “Good girl, I will be down shortly. Make sure you stay there until I am ready for you.” I could still here Lizzy moving around upstairs and after what seemed like an eternity, I heard her walk into the kitchen. I didn’t hear the telltale click of heels on the tile floors like I typically do when she is all “dolled” up for an event. She continued to walk around the kitchen then I could hear her walk over to me. She lifted the back of my dress and I could feel the cool air as it swished up. It caused a sensation at exposed part of my legs between the thigh highs and bottom of my panties that sent a chill through my entire body.
Lizzy said, “your butt looks great in those panties. I love seeing the rows of sating and lace. No woman would ever wear something like that, let alone a man. My aunt said she could tell you were “a special boy” at the wedding shower. That’s why she bought the maid apron for you.”
At this my face burned red. Lizzy’s aunt had given her a maid apron at her wedding shower and told her it was for me, but I always thought it was a joke and was not sure she ever did really say that. Hearing Lizzy tell me that her aunt actually did say that and had suspicions put a whole new light on some of the other comments that she made when we were at the lake.
Lizzy tucked the back of my dress into the pinafore and slid her hands onto my waist. She asked, “Didn’t you know that Aunt Carol always thought you were a sissy, even before I knew you were a sissy?”
I replied, “I always thought you were joking about the apron and that it was bought for you, Mistress. I did love how you had me put on the panties and put on the apron the next day while I made you breakfast though.” The memory stirring my little clitty in my cage.
Lizzy brought her fingers into the top of my panty waistband and slowly slid them down to my knees. I was still facing with my nose into the corner and I felt her slide her hand between my thighs and grab my clitty cage. She pulled my clitty in the pink chastity cage back between my legs and shoved my thighs back together so that my clitty was sticking back between my legs leaving the front of my pubic area smooth like a girls. Lizzy pushed her body up against mine and reached her hand around my waist and slowly slid it down the front of my stomach with her palm flat and her fingers pointing down. She slowly rubbed the front of my crotch where my sissy clitty had previously been. She said, “Aunt Carol loved that picture too. She said she knew she was right about buying the apron for you.
I felt my knees buckle with the words she was saying and the was she was rubbing my smooth crotch. I so wanted to reach behind and release my caged clitty but Lizzy was pushing me into the corner so all I could do was stand there with my face pressed against the wall while she spoke and fondled me.
Lizzy said, “Aunt Carol has a whole collection of pictures of you doing what you love. She has asked quite a few times to have me send you to Atlanta for a week to clean as the sissy maid for her. We should make that happen soon.” Lizzy continued to rub my smooth crotch and push me into the wall. “Would my little sissy like that?”
“I would love that very much mistress. A sissy is happiest when she looks pretty and is waiting on others,” I replied.
“Good answer sissy” Lizzy said, and she reached down and pulled my panties up. “pull down your skirt and straighten the hems and turn around so I can inspect you.”
I released the back of my skirt form the pinafore and straightened my skirt and turned around. I was not prepared to see Mistress dressed how she was. Lizzy was standing there in shorts and a t-shirt. Both were form fitting, but they were things a woman would wear on a day to day basis, not something that you would wear to a fetish event while leading your sissy husband in a maid uniform on a collar and leash.
I looked at Lizzy and said, “Lizzy, aren’t you going to get ready?”
Lizzy smacked me across the face and said, “That is the last warning, we had an agreement. You will address me as Mistress for the rest of the evening. No more slip ups, I want you in the right state of mind. Just because your idea of the plan isn’t lining out doesn’t mean it gives you the right to break the role. Do you understand?”
I lowered my head and replied, “Yes Mistress, sorry Mistress.”
Lizzy looked at me and said, “Ok, like I said this isn’t probably what you are expecting, and if you do not want to spend all night in the corner in your sissy spot you have better get in line.”
I looked at Lizzy and lowered my eyes and curtsied and said, “yes Mistress, what do you require of your sissy maid.”
“Good girl” said Lizzy. “Now let’s get some things straight. I am hosting guests tonight and I expect my sissy to wait on them like a good sissy maid would. You will be seen and not heard and will only speak when address. Do you understand?”
“Yes Mistress” I replied, “but who…”
“No questions, sissy” Lizzy interrupted, “You will do as you are instructed, or this will not be happening and you and I both know this is something you have always wanted.”
Lizzy was right. This is something I had begged for countless times in the past; for her to let me serve as the sissy maid at one of her “Girl’s Nights” that she had every so often. Not knowing who was going to see me as the sissy maid was terrifying. The thought of who and how many were coming was running through my head and I was scared that this was a little more than I could handle but I had asked to give up all control and take my true place as a submissive sissy.
Lizzy said, “Guest will be arriving in 30 minutes and I expect things to be ready when they come. Bring up two bottles of wine from the cellar and bring up the hors d’oeuvres from the basement kitchen that I got at the store this morning. When guests arrive, I expect you to meet them at the door and curtsey and take their coats. Do you understand sissy?”
“Yes Mistress” I replied. My heart already racing with anticipation.
“Well what are you waiting for. Get things ready. I want my guests to be impressed,” Lizzy said.
“Yes Mistress,” I replied and turned to go.
“Hold on sissy,” Lizzy said. “One more thing. I have written out what I expect you to say to each of the guests when they arrive” and she handed me a small piece of paper. “I want you to have this memorized perfectly before they arrive so that it looks like this is something you say on regular basis and not something that is scripted.”
I unfolded the paper and silently read what she had written on it. Hello sir/madam, thank you for gracing Mistress Lizzy’s home with your presence this evening. I am sissy jenny, formerly Mistress Lizzy’s husband, but we have both found that I am not a real man and am better suited for serving Mistress Lizzy as her Sissy Maid. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to make your visit more comfortable this evening (and then curtsy and take their coat) If you will follow me I will lead you into the sitting area to start this evening (make sure you walk in front of them and wiggle your ass).
My face was burning with embarrassment just reading the text and let alone she expected me to say this to each guest. The thought of actually doing this in front of people though had me ultra-turned on and my sissy clitty was straining against the chastity cage and I could feel my panty liner getting even wetter than it already was.
I looked at Lizzy and said, “Mistress you want me to say this to each guest?”
Lizzy replied, “Of course sissy. I wouldn’t have written it down if I didn’t want you to and what did I say about questioning me?”
“Sorry Mistress,” I replied, “you say Sir/Madam, are there going to be men here?”
“Tut, tut, tut, again with more questions. You will see when people come in. now go downstairs and get the things instructed and come back up and we will do a practice run before the guests arrive,” Lizzy said.
I curtsey to Mistress and turned and walked down the stairs to retrieve the wine and hors d’oeuvres. I grabbed a bottle of white and a bottle of red from the cellar and brought up the tray with the snacks for tonight’s event. Mistress was seated at the couch texting on her phone when I had everything arranged and I walked over to her and stood next to her until she addressed me.
“Do you have everything ready sissy?” she asked.
“Yes Mistress”, I replied.
“Very good. Let’s do a quick inspection then we can do a rundown of your greeting before people start coming over.” With that Lizzy stood up and walked around me. “You know the drill sissy lift your dress.”
I lifted my dress while Lizzy walked around. She checked my nylons to make sure they were even and that the seems were straight. Checked the locks on my 6-inch heels to make sure they were secure, and I could not get out of them. While my still had my dress pulled up, she instructed me to drop my panties so she could inspect my sissy parts. I dropped my panties and lifted my skirt back up.
“My, my, my,” Lizzy said as she was looking at her sissy husband exposed from the waist down and locked into the pink chastity device. “Still dripping your sissy cum and making a mess, and look your pantyliner is soaked with precum. I am guessing you are loving the idea of what is to come and not knowing who is going to actually meet sissy jenny finally.” Lizzy grabbed my locked up clitty and inspected. “I can tell you are excited with how swollen your clitty is. I think it was the right choice to deny you release so that you follow through with tonight’s plan. I stood there with my wrists limp hold my skirt up high. Lizzy smacked my ass hard with her hand causing me to jump also causing my clitty to shoot a stream of precum. “Good thing your panties caught that sissy, or else people might have seen my pet licking cum off the ground.
My mind flashed to the picture Lizzy texted her friend Tiffany of me earlier in the day licking my puddle of cum off the bathroom floor and the picture that Tiffany texted back to Lizzy where she photo-shopped poodle ears and a tail on me on all fours on the floor with cum dripping off my tongue.
Now stay there while I get you a new pantyliner.” I stood in the middle of the room with my skirt held high, my panties around my ankles, and my exposed clitty open for everyone to see.
Lizzy returned with a new panty liner and pulled the precum soaked one out and replaced it with the dry one. She raised my panties back up and patted my ass. “Fix your skirt and get on your knees so we can finish the inspection,” Lizzy said.
I straightened my skirt and pinafore smoothed them as flat as my layers of petticoats would allow and knelt on the floor with my head down. The first thing Lizzy did was take my curled hair and from behind me and raise it up. She grasped the padlock and made sure it was secure so that I would not be able to take my dress off. Lizzy let my hair fall back across my dress and fluffed it up.
“I want my sissy to look pretty tonight and I want to make sure that you stay in that dress. Now stand up and let’s practice how you are going to greet my guests tonight,” Lizzy said.
“Yes mistress,” I replied as I stood up and straightened my dress.
“Now sissy, let’s pretend the doorbell rings and I am on of the guests. You will run through what I have asked you to memorize so that you are ready when people start showing up. Now move you butt over to the door and lets practice,” Lizzy commanded.
“Yes mistress,” I stated as I curtsied and walked over to the door.
Lizzy walked outside and rang the doorbell.
Heart in my chest, knowing that the next time the doorbell rang there would be someone else behind the door I opened it. I started to speak, and Lizzy interrupted by screaming, “Oh my God is that you Jeremy! Holy shit! What a faggot!”
I started to stammer, unsure what to say and Lizzy shoved me back, “On your knees” she commanded. “You need to be prepared for that. I expect that will be the reaction that most people will have. Especially the men.”
My heart started beating a mile a minute. There were going to be men coming over and seeing me in a pink maid uniform with the skirt sticking out straight with layers of petticoats exposing my ruffled satin and lace panties. They would be getting a full view of them while I walked in front of them with my 6-inch heels locked on and me wiggling my ass causing the bells that Lizzy sewn into my panties to jingle uncontrollably while escorting them to Lizzy.
I stammered, “Mistress, there will be men here?”
Lizzy replied, “What did I tell you about asking questions? Now let’s try it again and make sure you get it right this time.”
“Yes mistress,” I replied and stood up and straightened my dress.
Lizzy walked outside and rang the doorbell again and I opened the door. This time she reacted by saying, “My, my, my, I always knew there was something different about you Jeremy and now I understand why Lizzy looks at other men like she does.”
My face flushed red and my clitty stirred in its chastity. I responded by saying, “Hello Madam, thank you for gracing Mistress Lizzy’s home with your presence this evening. I am sissy jenny, formerly Mistress Lizzy’s husband, but we have both found that I am not a real man and am better suited for serving Mistress Lizzy as her Sissy Maid. Please let me know if there is anything, I can do to make your visit more comfortable this evening.” I curtseyed and pretended like I was taking her coat and hung it up. “If you will follow me, I will lead you into the sitting area to start this evening” I indicated that she should follow me and wiggled my ass causing the bells to jingle all the way as I walked her to the sitting room. I could hear her giggling at the wiggling which made me shake my butt even more.
“So, Jeremy, it’s jenny now is it?” she asked, still playing the part of the guest.
I turned and said, “sissy jenny, madam. I need to be addressed as sissy in front of my name since I do not deserve to be addressed as a real woman.”
“Is that right?” she asked still playing the part.
“Yes, Madam” I replied. “No woman would wear something like this, nor would want to dress like this, and no real man would be caught dead dressed like this. Only a sissy, and that is what I am. I am not a woman and shouldn’t pretend to be one and I am as far from being a real man as I can get.” After giving my explanation, I curtseyed and stood with my eyes downcast.
Lizzy said, “very good sissy. I am sure you will do great this evening. I am so excited, but probably not as excited as you. Now go get me a glass of wine while I am waiting for my guests.”
I turned to go to the kitchen and fulfill her request when the doorbell rang. I froze in my steps. I felt my heart turn on full speed and drop to my stomach.
“Well it looks like people are showing up early, you know what to do sissy. My wine can wait but not the guests at the door,” Lizzy said. “Now get your sissy butt in gear.”
With that I walked to the door heels clicking on the hardwood floor and the bells on my panties jingling, but I was unable to hear them over the sound of my beating heart. I reached the door and turned the knob and slowly pulled it open…
To be continued…
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Description:Is there no end to my perversity and my enjoyment of all things rubber? It was now that I realised how much my jaws ached. Heavy weight elbow length gloves were strapped to his arms. After calming down a bit I went and collected my ankle and wrist cuffs, I placed each one on and then securely locked each one with its own padlock.
The Ultimate Humiliation and Entrapment of a Sissy
The Ultimate Humiliation and Entrapment of a Sissy
In the dingy motel room where my life turned around in such a short time is where this story begins but the beginnings of this story were many years in the past, a past in which dressing up, spanking, bondage, cocksucking, public outings and humiliation had occurred in bits and pieces. I was not so much a real submissive as much as someone who felt like it was edgy to see how far I could come to the precipice of my fantasies that aroused me so much without becoming trapped by them. In the end I hoped I would become trapped and feel all that goes with being stuck living such unusual fantasies out but I also dreaded it for I knew if I was truly trapped, that an entirely comfortable life would disappear forever and be replaced by something much more different and intense.
In my 50’s
I knew that time was passing me by. I also knew that the desires in me
would never leave. If anything, the passing of the years had only
deepened them and allowed them to grow as well as change. A new desire
had come my way, prompted into being by seeing pictures and drawings of
male maids. The male maid look combined maleness with classic French
Maid outfits and it was in that combination I could see the
possibilities for humiliation and degradation, especially in a full time
setting. My mind was enraptured with the idea of having nothing more
to wear other than cheap costume-like French Maid dresses, a pair of
knickers and some footwear. Inside a home or apartment it would be a
look that would certainly suggest something is going on but out in
public, it would be seen as a most jarring note to run around dressed
like this. People were going to notice, people were going to laugh,
people were going to make rude remarks and most
importantly, people were going to react.
Now to have a one-time thrill is fine but to be trapped into being stuck with living out the fantasy without it ending, to have to change my life fully in order to deal with the situation, is where my arousal met it’s peak. I knew that certain buttons in me could be pushed as in the case with being regularly paddled and paddled hard enough to acquire that old c***dhood sense of dread that came when I knew a paddling was coming. I also knew that if I set myself up as completely vulnerable and showed someone how to take total advantage of a situation, that there would be no easy way out.
Equipped with my fantasies, a cheap French Maid uniform, a pair of knickers, my black stockings and suspenders, my heels and my plan, I had reached out to a younger dominant female in her 20’s who delighted in the prospects of humiliating males. I fully confessed my dreams of public humiliation, paddlings, full time servitude, forced cocksucking, chastity devices and losing everything I had to live out my fantasy of being stuck living the rest of my life out as a male maid. This young dominant lady was shown how she could plunge me into the deep end of the pool and leave me there with no further responsibilities on her part. Wanting so badly to know that feeling of helplessness I begged her to take me on as a special project. Her urges to debase males combined with my plans to set forward a trip to a large city in which my former world would be totally turned upside down.
I knocked on the door of the room I had already reserved and paid for. She was inside waiting for me. It was the last time I ever wore male clothes outside. She opened the door, I stepped inside and promptly began to disrobe. She remained quiet during this time and as my clothes came off, she stuck them in a plastic rubbish bag. In my little plastic bag I had my pair of knickers, the French Maid dress, a paddle with holes, a toothbrush and a shaver. I donned the French Maid dress, stockings and a suspender belt and the knickers, then put on my heels
She finally spoke. “You stay here and I will be back in 10 minutes”. She then took my car keys and the bag with my male clothes as well as my ID out the door. I closed the door as she departed. The engine starting noise meant the start of my new life as a humiliation male maid had begun. I heard her drive off, leaving me with nothing more in this world than what I had on, the toothbrush, the shaver and the paddle. Those 10 minutes were dreadful minutes for I was now irrevocably committed to going through with whatever she thought best from all the ideas I had sent her way over the last two weeks we had been in touch.
15 minutes had passed and it stretched to 20. I was now tired as well as a nervous wreck so I laid down. A few minutes later I heard a knock at the door. She had returned! My car was nowhere to be seen but she was back.
“Curtsey for me!” she commanded.
“Yes ma’am!” and I did so.
“Now I want you to lift the hem of that maid’s dress fully when you curtsey so I see those knickers!” and with that said she sat down in the only chair in the room.
“Yes ma’am!” I replied and I made sure to give her a complete lifting of my dress so that the back of my knickers would show fully to anyone standing behind me. She could easily see if I was doing it right as a mirror was also behind me for her to check my pantyshowing performance out.
“Again!” she went and with my “Yes ma’am!” reply I did as ordered. The “Again!” command was made many times and complied with each time.
“Every time you get attention out in public you will curtsey this way. Every time someone speaks to you, you will curtsey this way. You will be getting your wish to show the world your knickers and this is just one of several ways you will be doing this. In time it will be as automatic as breathing and eating but for now it is a matter of training.”
“Again!” she went.
After some more minutes of this curtsey training I began to tire. She noticed.
“It looks like you need some encouragement sissy! Lay over the back of this chair and grab it’s legs…NOW!”
I quickly complied. She then grabbed the wooden paddle, pulled down my knickers and began to paddle me with fast hard smacks. In no time at all I was going “Ow! OW! Owww!!!” but the smacks kept coming.
“Keep ahold of those chair legs you pervert. This paddling hasn’t even begun!” and the smacks came on without any letup. Thankfully for us there was no one in either of the neighboring rooms since it was the early afternoon as my ow noises turned into cries and then sobs. I had told her in our email exchanges that a paddling only really began once the crying began. She understood and now she was showing me just how well she understood.
I had to hold onto those legs with every bit of strength I could but my legs began to kick and my arse began to try to wiggle away from the painful stinging blows. She proved to be more than up to the task of paddling my arse and now it felt like a blowtorch had been turned on it, a blowtorch that would not quit.
All I could do was sob, cry and hang on to those chair legs until she was done. When she did complete the paddling, my arse had real blisters and deep purple bruises upon it while my face was running with tears and my nose was filled with snot. All I could do was cry in anguish and stay put. She then told me to stand up, pull my knickers back up and get back to my curtseying spot. Back in the chair she went.
“Again!” came the command to curtsey with my skirting fully lifted and being well motivated by the hardest paddling I had ever received in my life, I did so despite the continuing sobs. The “Agains” would flow until my crying had ended.
That is when my first taste of public humiliation as a male maid began.
“Now I want you to take this money and go down to the corner, where a convenience store is, get me a Coke and a burrito, then hustle your backside back here. Got that?”
“Yes ma’am!” and I curtseyed, then took the money and headed out the door.
It was broad daylight and it was a short walk from the parking lot to the busy street. The world was getting it’s first glimpse of me as a male maid. A few people looked out of their cars and had wondering glances for me and soon enough I got my first horn honking and a “Crazy faggot!” yelled at me. I curtseyed to them as they drove on and the full knicker show I gave was seen by others who drove by, so they also honked and yelled, which got more curtseys coming from me. It was going to be a long walk to that store it appeared!
When I saw that the corner was quite a ways down the block, a very long block, I knew I had better hurry up as this was not the most patient lady in the world. My hot burning backside was further encouraging me to get on with what I was doing no matter how I was dressed. This wasn’t some hot fantasy I was dreaming about, this was the reality of being outside looking like a typical male in a most untypical short sexy French Maid Halloween costume. My fears battled with my denial of what I was doing to myself but as I walked along I knew the trapped feeling was getting ever stronger.
At the store I quickly found the Coke and the burrito. The clerk was a younger male with punk-style hair, piercings and tattoos so he wasn’t one to really insult me but he was curious.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“I’m getting turned into a full time male maid by a dominant lady,” I replied.
“Oh really? That’s cool, weird but cool! You have a lot of guts!” and he smiled.
Actually I thought I had taken a temporary leave of my senses and now was truly stuck thanks to that. The clerk put the burrito and the Coke in a paper bag and I walked out of the convenience store and back into the flow of traffic immediately. Once again more horn honks, more wolf whistles, more shouts and yells, all followed by more curtseys on my part. I was going to play the role all the way through and having been already well-trained in a short time to go along with the butt-blistering paddling I had received, I did what I was supposed to when people paid attention to me. They got a curtsey and anyone who saw me from the back got a complete view of my knickered arse to encourage even more attention.
It took what seemed to be 20 minutes to get back to the room and when I got there I saw an envelope taped to the door. I knew what had happened. One of the ideas put to her was for her to leave the room when I was out and take off, leaving me a bus pass, directions on how to use the bus system as well as directions on where I was to go. I opened the envelope and there it was, the bus pass and a short note. She was gone and my initiation into public humiliation would continue.
All I had to my name was the bag with the bottle of Coke and the burrito, the bus pass, that note and what I had on. At least she was nice enough to give me permission to eat the burrito and drink the Coke when I got hungry! I sat down on the steps outside the room and did so. A couple of people drove into the parking lot but no one said a word and they actually avoided me so I ate my little meal in peace, then threw away the garbage into a nearby can.
The bus stop was down the street 2 blocks away from the motel. This walk would be even longer than the last one and that meant plenty more exposure for me. Holding onto the hem of my French Maid dress to keep it pulled down so it would not slip and also so I could curtsey quickly, I made my way to the bus stop. No one else was there but I knew people would be on the bus, so up close and personal encounters were coming my way.
As I waited some more drivers paid attention to me standing there and as they did, the curtseys continued. So far it had been a good afternoon from a curtsey-training perspective but I worried about how things would go on the bus when the people paying attention were close by and not driving down the road at faster speeds. It’s not every day you see a guy running around in a French Maid dress after all!
The bus
pulled up and after it was obvious no one was getting off, I got on and
showed the driver my pass. He didn’t seem to react much but being a big
city bus driver I am certain he had seen more strange things than me
out there. There was a series of empty seats and only a few people on
the bus so I seated myself alone. The directions on the note were to
take this bus downtown, then board another bus that would take me to
another part of town, after which I would get off and walk 3 blocks to
another apartment building. Some people would be expecting me there.
What I was going to be in for when I got there was something I had no
idea of. In the meantime the bus proceeded on it’s trip to the downtown
area and more people got on. However none of them sat next to me even
though the bus was starting to fill up. No one said anything but I knew
my strangeness had put these people off. It was not so much
humiliating as hurtful and I felt
that hurt inside me. I also felt
the hurt from my well-paddled arse as I sat down as well and knew that
even though I had asked for this, what I would feel would have little
relation to what I had fantasized about.
I also knew there was no escape from my predicament and as I dwelled on that feeling I began to get aroused as my cock got harder and harder. Now I was swimming in sexual ecstasy among these people and I smiled. The dress was just long enough to cover up my knickers as I sat so no one saw them tent out but I knew what was going on down there. My cock liked the idea of being stuck in those knickers out in public and having only the minimum amount of skirting to keep it from showing how happy it was with the situation. The intensity of the experience served to intensify the feelings of arousal.
When I got off the bus on downtown and waited for the next one to come along I was in sissy pervert dreamland. Here I was, all alone in a bustling area with nothing more to wear than my French Maid dress, my knickers, my stockings and my heels. In my hand was the only possession I had, the envelope with the note and bus pass. It was a liberating experience to see how far I had come in the space of less than 2 hours from my initial entrance to that motel room. That is when the darker thoughts of “this is only the beginning” began to creep in. I shuddered.
A small group of girls saw me and giggled as I stood at the downtown bus stop. I curtseyed to them and more giggling ensued from other people, so I curtseyed to them and in doing so I gave the first group of girls to notice a full knicker show. That led to more giggling and more curtseying! An anonymous voice was heard saying “You are so crazy!” in the background so I curtseyed to that direction. As long as someone was paying attention to me I would do as I was trained to do and give those full knicker showing curtseys which were thought of by me originally as a way to get even more attention. They certainly did that!
My bus turned out to be the next one to come and I boarded it along with the rest of the people who had been at the bus stop. I found a seat in between a black man and a white woman. The white woman turned her head away but the black man looked at me and spoke.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
I told him “I’m going around in public dressed as a male maid to see what kind of reactions I’ll get. So far it hasn’t been too bad.”
“Oh really? I hope you are careful out there as you do look rather freaky. I bet you really are freaky!” and he said this with a grin.
“Yes I am and today is the first day of the rest of my life as a male maid. Did you know I gave up everything I owned to be like this?”
“Wow, you really are living la vida loca aren’t you? Maybe you should come along with me and I’ll show you a good freaky time,” which sounded like a good invitation to me.
“What’s your idea?” and at this point I had no idea of where this would lead.
“There’s an adult bookstore we can get off at the next stop and they have booths there for crazy sissies like you to give blowjobs in,” he mentioned. I thought about the stop I had to get to but hey, if this is what came my way I was up for it.
“I’ll tell you what. I have to get to this other place pretty soon but I’ll take a few extra minutes off to give you a good time.” He liked the sound of that offer and we got off at the next stop together, with him grabbing my arse under my short French Maid dress to lead me along. I was loving it!
We headed for a booth and the patrons already there paid little attention as they had no doubt seen their share of tawdry transvestites show up to entertain them and suck them off. My new found friend sat down in the one chair and I kneeled on the floor. He unbuttoned his pants and out sprang a large cock already emitting precum. He was one turned on guy!
“Okay sweetcheeks, get to sucking and make Daddy happy!” he went.
I could only get his cockhead and a bit of his shaft in my mouth. “You must be new to this,” he went and my head nodded yes. “That’s alright, you just keep sucking and you keep on sucking cocks until you get real good.” I felt encouraged and kept right on. “Now feel my balls…lick my balls…suck on my cock,” came his directions and as I did I was having my mouth filled with the taste of his precum and sweaty balls. It was a powerful taste and an arousing one. I had fantasized about being out in the streets as a cocksucking sissy slut and now to have it happen for real was quite exciting.
This gentleman was also getting rather excited too and I felt him begin to spasm a bit as he hit his orgasm. The cum quickly filled my mouth and made me choke, which led to it running down from my mouth. He then pulled out and stroked his cock, shooting the cum load that remained on my face. “Swallow it whore!” he went and what was in my mouth did get swallowed but there were now gobs of cum on my face, in my hair and on the front of my cheap French Maid dress. Cum dribbled down my chin. I was thoroughly marked as a cocksucking sissy now and that added to the thrill.
“Now clean me up real good sweetcheeks,” he demanded and I went back to sucking and licking his cock until it was as clean as I could make it. “You’re a good little cocksucker aren’t you?” and to that I nodded yes.
“Well then, I see one of my buddies is here, so let me get him to introduce his cock to your mouth. You stay put and he’ll be right in,” and with that said he quickly exited the booth. It looked like I would get more than I bargained for on this stop. How much more I had no idea but unless I wanted trouble, it looked like I had better stay put in the booth.
The wait was a short one. The next guy came in, dropped his pants and said “Suck on this bitch!”. He wasn’t as friendly sounding as the first guy so I did not argue and quickly got on my hands and knees to suck his cock. Soon enough moaning noises came from him and then the dirty talk began.
“You are a cheap cocksucking whore!”
“Suck like you mean it you bitch ass faggot!”
“Swallow it all you cocksucker!”
He kept talking as I kept sucking and since he was excited, he came quickly enough. Another load went into my mouth and down my throat. Another taste of cock, a different taste, filled my mouth. He also pulled out and made sure to spray some more cum on my face and on the front of my French Maid uniform.
“Now you just stay put bitch because I have got some more cocks for you to suck. You are going to be here a while so get ready!”
He walked out and in less than a minute another man came in. He wasnt much for talking but he most certainly wanted his cock sucked as he quickly dropped his pants, sat down and grabbed me by the back of the head to get the third blowjob I was to give there underway. Unlike the first two, he only let the first gush of cum go in my mouth and he sprayed me down quite heavily with the rest of his orgasm. My face was now glistening with cum and the front of my French Maid dress was heavily spotted with damp spots as well as fresh gobs of thick cum.
He pulled up his pants and said “Stay put whore”, walked out and shortly after that came another man who was quite turned on by the sloppy seconds look I was showing. He was a quick but heavy cummer who made sure to further drench me down.
Now the gentleman who had brought me there came in as the blowjob ended and said, “Having a good time slut?”
“Yes but I do have to get to the next stop real soon or otherwise there will be problems. Please let me go, please!: and I said it with a smile.
“Sure bitch, you can go but only after you give me another blowjob, okay?”
“Okay,” I went.
He dropped his pants and settled into the chair as the previous person left. This was going to be an extended bit of sucking since he had just cum around half an hour again. I stroked his cock with my soft hands, licked it with my moist tongue and then took it into my now well-used mouth. He got hard again and was apparently turned on by the cummy mess I had become. Once hard he had me do more ball-licking and thigh kissing to give him the oral worship he wanted. He was really enjoying this but I was getting quite tired so I hoped it would go quickly.
It wound up taking 20 minutes for this blowjob. He capped it by shooting what he had all over me as much as he could, then I gave him another 5 minutes of cleanup licking and sucking.
“It looks like you are now ready for the rest of your bus ride sissy! I hope those people you are supposed to meet enjoy the mess me and my friends made of you! If you come back here again I’ll be sure to see you get even more cocks to suck!” He stood up, pulled up his pants and then told me to get up off the floor unless I wanted to be there for the rest of the day and night.
I guess I didn’t get up fast enough for him as he said, “Okay bitch, you want the full treatment, here it is,” and with that he pushed me back down, whistled and another of his friends came in. “Make sure this faggot whore sucks you nicely and when you are done, you get someone else in here to keep this bitch sucking cock. I’ve got to run but I’ll be back later tonight and I want to see what the bitch looks like after being turned out as my new whore.”
With that he grabbed the envelope with the address and bus pass. “You won’t be needing this but don’t worry bitch, I’ll let whoever is there know I’ve got you and believe me, I got you.”
His friend pulled down his pants, sat on the chair and said “Get to sucking my cock whore. You will be down here sucking cock every day from now on. Get used to it!”
In less than three hours I had gone from being a regular male to a male maid to a real cocksucking whore in an adult bookstore and there was no getting away. Oh I was trapped and in a way I had not thought of. I didn’t know it but all these guys I was giving blowjobs to were calling their buddies to come on down and see I was properly initiated into my new life as a whore. A new cocksucking whore-to-be was born that day and that night. Blowjob followed after blowjob and as each one added just that much more cum to my hair, my face and my French Maid dress, I got wetter and slimier. Cum in my eyes stung so much I had to keep them shut. My mind began to shut down as cock followed cock. I was turning into the nastiest cumdump in town as the time passed and when the gentleman who had got me into the store came back, I was quite the sight for him to see.
“Wow, have you ever gotten a lot of cock today whore! Now you will finish me off and then I am going to take you to that address. Those people have a treat in store for you and then they are going to turn your ass over to me.” He then dropped his pants, sat down and another long blowjob for my new master ensued. He must have spent close to an hour with me and all that time he would order me to do the various things he liked. As this was going on he also promised me that it would get even nastier tomorrow as I learned to use my tongue to lick ass. It was only going to get deeper and this was just the first step down into my utter debasement as a real whore. As tired as I was I also felt a naughty thrill knowing there was no stopping the humiliation train he had put me on.
My knickers tented. He felt down there and noticed.
“You like the sound of that don’t you bitch?”
“Ummmm!” was the positive noise I made as I kept on sucking his cock.
“Oh yes, you are going to be the nastiest whore in this town when I get done with you bitch! Now let’s get done so I can see you get your next treat!”
The last load was swallowed completely as by now I was as wetted down as I could possibly be. He helped me up from the floor and led me out of the room for the first time in some hours. I needed to pee quite badly but he made that into a humiliating experience.
“Head out of the store whore and do as I tell you, okay?”
I curtseyed and he was amused by that as I said “Yes sir!”.
We walked down the street a bit and there was a dark alley into which we stepped. He told me to squat and pee into my panties when we were off the street far enough to avoid any troubles with passing police cars. I did as ordered and it was easier than expected since I had to wait so long. Ordinarily I would not have peed in public or been able to wait for the time that I did but I was so scared and so tight that the long wait resulted. After I peed my panties thoroughly I got another humiliation added on.
“Take off those panties and put them over your face bitch!” and with that order I had those wet panties on my face in no time at all and now I hoped that my cock and balls would not be showing to get me in trouble. He had a cure for that as he told me to lift a leg up, then the next leg and he had me step into another pair of panties. “Pull up your panties bitch and let’s catch us a bus!” I headed out of the alley with my peed-in panties covering my face and now it was a double pantyshow betweem them and the ones I was wearing. He had picked up another pair from the people I was supposed to meet and that is where he was told about how to add pantyface humiliation to my situation.
A couple more blocks were walked in the night air, which was still fairly warm. We got to the bus stop and he led me onto the bus, which didn’t have too many people on it at this hour but the ones who were on it certainly did notice my condition and appearance.
“Wow, what’s up with this crazy ass faggot?” came a question from a young man.
“I’m making this bitch my whore,” replied my new master.
“For real?” The young man sounded really curious and wondering. He had not yet lived long enough to see anything this freaky out in public yet. It’s not like males run around in French Maid outfits with wet knickers over their face and have a lot of cum spots all over them all the time.
“Oh yes, believe me it’s as real as I can make it for the bitch. You know where that adult bookstore is across from the bike shop? You come on down there tomorrow and this whore will suck your cock and stick their tongue up your ass. You’ll have a good time I promise!” and my master smiled.
The young man looked entranced with the offer. “That’s quite the freaky faggot you have there. I’ll be down at the place tomorrow and look you up for some action.”
“Good times my friend, good times!” my master exclaimed. The bus pulled over to stop and he led me off. “I’ll see you get your freak on tomorrow and bring some friends if you like! This whore needs a lot of lessons.” The young man gave a whoop and off we went to the place I should have gone to earlier that day.
“Knock on the door bitch and see what’s in store for you now!”
I did so and it was answered by a large black girl, who said, “Get your arse in here sissy, we’ve been waiting for you!” I curtseyed to her and then I saw through the knicker legs the domme lady who had met me at the motel room earlier in the day. Now it was her turn to speak.
“It looks like you have been having a lot of fun and that you learned your curtsey lessons well. That’s good sissy, real good. Now I’m going to add to your predicament. Come over here and stand in front of me.”
“Yes ma’am,” and after curtseying I quickly got myself in front of her.
From behind her back she brought out a small box. “Know what’s in here sissy?”
“No ma’am” and I curtseyed again, which was making the whole room light up with smiles as they all saw how quickly I learned to obey and show respect.
“Here, open it up sissy. It’s going to be part of the rest of your life so enjoy!”
Once again a curtsey, a thank you and then I took the box into my hands. I opened it up and inside was a chastity device. This was something I had mentioned to her and now after such a hard day, it was going to get even harder as my cock was stuck into this device.
“Pull down your knickers sissy and then hold up your dress,” she commanded.
“Yes ma’am,” and another curtsey followed after which I promptly obeyed. Now everyone saw my cock and balls as well as the well-bruised and well-blistered backside I had gotten from her earlier in the day.
My master noticed. “It looks like my new whore likes getting it’s tail whipped. I’ll be sure to see that arse gets plenty more of that action!”
The domme then handed the paddle to my master. “This is for you. Paddle this sissy’s arse hard and often as that is what this sissy asked for when writing me before coming up here. You keep that arse burning hot and you will have an obediant sissy.”
“Believe me, I’ll give this whore all the paddle I can and as soon as you’re done getting that thing on the whore’s cock, I’ll give the bitch something to cry about!” My master sounded even more enthusiastic about paddling me than he did about getting me to give blowjobs. I was really, really deep into the trapped sissy life now as once someone knew that the key to getting me to obey was to use the paddle until I was bawling my head off, that there would be no turning back from whatever humiliations were to follow.
The domme lady now fixed the chastity device in place and then used a small padlock to make sure it was not coming off. “I’ll keep the key here. You bring this sissy by once a week and I’ll remove it so that it can be cleaned up. I’ll have the sissy give this place a good cleaning as well. This way we both get something from the sissy.”
“Sounds like a deal to me!” said my master. “Now bitch, get yourself over my lap and see how I paddle a whore’s arse!”
“Yes sir!” and with a curtsey made, I got myself in position.
“Take those knickers off your face and gag yourself so we don’t hear you scream. This is gonna be a real man paddling coming to your arse!” he ordered.
“Yes sir,” and I did my best to stuff my mouth as full as I could with those now drying panties. The pee taste would come along stronger as the knickers got wet in my mouth but for now it was just about holding the noise down.
Since I had been paddled only some hours back, it was an immediate hot burning sensation from the first smack. My master hit harder than the domme had done and he hit faster on my already blistered behind. In no time at all I was crying, sobbing and screaming into my gag. I was also squirming wildly but he was strong enough to hold me in place as he beat my butt with the paddle. The actual time of the paddling was not that long but by the time he was done, I was as broken down as I could possibly be. He rolled me off his lap onto the floor, where I curled up into a ball and cried as loudly as I could through the knicker gag.
I could hear him speak barely through my pain but I heard him clearly say that my arse was going to always feel like it was on fire every single day from here on out. He left me to lay on the floor for a bit longer, then he grabbed me by the hair and started to pull me up.
“Get up bitch and pull those knickers up NOW!” and despite my tears and sobs I instantly obeyed him.
“Thanks for the whore and the paddle! Believe me, I’ll make sure this bitch toes the line and I’ll have this cocksucker back here anytime you want your place cleaned up. We’ll both make out on this!” The domme nodded her approval. “Now I’m gonna take my whore home where I’ll see how good a maid this crazy bitch can be turned into.”
“Knickers back on your face bitch! No one wants to see your face unless you are sucking cock from here on out. Got that?” His wish was my command and I pulled the knicker gag out of my mouth, then after getting those wet knickers unballed, I placed them over my head so all I had was a bit of vision through the leg holes. “Out the door whore, you have some cleaning up at my place to do before you get to sleep.”
Out I went, now with a chastity device on my cock, knickers over my face and with my arse totally on fire, wearing what I had been wearing all along since the start of my humiliation as a male maid, a cheap French Maid dress that was now as cum-spotted as if I had been the center of a bukkake party.
“Let’s see some sashay in that walk bitch. Give me a whore stroll as we head to the bus stop!”
I held onto the hem of the dress and did my best to swish along as we walked through the night.
“Very good! Now I want you to walk that way every single step you take from here on out or otherwise I’ll paddle your arse even more than you already are going to get,” he threatened.
“Yes sir!” and I continued with as much mincing and swishing as I could possibly do. That blistered bottom was certainly convincing me to do what I was told no matter what it was. A knicker faced male maid sashaying down the street at night was one thing but tomorrow it would be done in full daylight with plenty of people to see me.
We finally got to the bus stop and now a new humiliation ensued. “Bend over and grab your ankles bitch so everyone can see your knickers. From now on every time we have to do any waiting, this is how you are going to wait.”
“Yes sir!” came my prompt reply and immediately I grabbed my ankles and had my knickers on full display for anyone who was out that night as we waited for the bus. Only a couple of cars drove by and no one seemed to notice but I knew that in the daylight of the next day that this kind of scene would ensure everyone was going to get a good look at my sissy arse. 10 or 15 minutes seemed to pass by before the bus came along.
“Stand up and get on the bus bitch, it’s the last ride of the night!” With that said I boarded with him right behind me guiding me with his hand on my arse. He took me over to a seat and when I sat down he told me to sit with my legs spread wide every time I sat down from that time forward. He then got up and sat on the other side to make sure he could see right up my dress and get a good look at my knickered crotch. “That’s right whore, you will be sitting like a whore from now on. Spread those legs wide!” and I made sure to spread them just as wide as I could.
There was just one other passenger on the bus. They took a quick look at what was going on and then quickly turned away. I sat on my burning blistered backside and waited until we had gotten to the stop closest to my master’s apartment.
“We’re home sweetcheeks. Get used to the view because it’s the same view you will be having as long as you are my whore and that’s going to be a very long time I promise!”. He once again guided me along with his hand on my arse to feel me swish along as we headed to his place, which was two blocks away. When we got to his place he opened the door then stepped through first.
“Get on your hands and knees whore and crawl in here. You always crawl unless you are doing work that requires you to stand up when you are in my crib!” Yet another humiliation was added to all the others that had gone on beforehand. By now it had been around 12 hours since my new life had begun. I was as tired and beat down as a person could get but there was still one more task to do.
“Crawl through that door over there and head into the bathroom. My toilet needs a good cleaning up and if you do that good, I’ll let you get some sleep. Okay bitch?”
“Yes sir! What do you want me to clean it with?” I asked.
“Use your hands, your tongue and the water in the toilet bowl. I’ll give you half an hour and then I’ll come back to see how you did. It had better be a good job bitch!” and with that said, he headed off to the kitchen and got himself something to eat while I went to work on the grimy piss-streaked toilet. I used my hands to get water out of the bowl and rub down the sides of the toilet, then used my tongue to lick up the excess water while working to push the knickers over my face out of the way. I was not going to do anything less than my best after all I had been through with him already. The half hour of disgusting work went past and he came back in to see the job was not yet done.
“Looks like you are more whore than maid doesn’t it bitch? Get in the tub and lay down. This is what happens when you really piss me off!” and as soon as I was in the tub he pulled down his pants and peed all over me. Now I was totally drenched. “Looks like I’ll be pissing on you every day too! You’ll get used to it whore. Consider it as part of your whore lessons to learn.” Then he turned on the shower to rinse me down. The water was cold and I shivered. Finally he figured I was cleaned up.
“Okay bitch, back to cleaning the toilet and when you are done, you can go to sleep here on my bathroom floor. This is where you will be sleeping from now on. Got that?”
“Yes sir!” and with that I resumed my toilet cleaning and he went off to his bed. It would take another hour or so before I was done and my French Maid dress was still a bit damp but by then I was so tired I did not care. I laid on the floor and made myself as comfortable as I could. sleep was not hard to find.
Neither were the nightmares. So much had happened in one day that it overwhelmed my brain. All I could see was cock after cock, feel the hot burn of the paddle, the taste of cum and piss, the sensation of being exposed as a male maid in public and as a cocksucking whore at an adult bookstore. The discomfort of sleeping on the floor combined with my hunger, my stinging arse and the chastity device’s sensations to wake me up after a small amount of sleep but being as tired as I was I went back to sleep and saw the nightmares continue. They would be a part of my life from that time forward.
Tranny P*nk
Sla0wer
Tranny P*nk
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TsPx WORKSHOP see if you can decode my garbage notes in to a workshop big hit at parties and tr!nny summer camp TRANNY PUNK DEATH FUCK SUMMER CAMP 006 THIS IS JUST MY PERSONAL NOTES. i am trying to write a motherfucking workshop in an hour and a half <td>LINKS TO OLD MATERIALS THE TRANS PUNK UNDERGROUND CATASTROPHY NETWORK BUILDING COMMUNITEE AND MUTUAL AID PEER SUPPORT WHILE BEING A FUCKED UP LIL A-SOCIAL COUNTERCULTURE FALLOUT DIRT BAG AND ALSO TRANS last year two ago ! tranny con 2005 program origional workshop plan crap. complete itinerary of the trans punk perspective workshop 2005 old outdated attempt to explain the trans-punk equation that i never was happy with !! i can do better now but i dont have time. trans outsider identity rant that birthed the seeds of the workshop TRANNYS ARE PUNK DAEMONS fetishising evil trannys are tokens of the queers— really old. man o man… the worst part of blogging is that you can go back 2 years ago and see how you used to be a lil more fucked up and dumb and uncertain… and that other people can see it too cuz its the internet. fortunatly… the internet is way to big to bother reading all yer year old crap… only the most devoted cyber stalker would try… unless you go posting links to it… eating some shitty lil kids lunch box !!! </td> fuck fuck fuck fuck… i totally have no time to do this… i even stopped having sex on drugs with gunther for a night and sent him off to go get wasted and get in to fights with his dumb ass white trash drunk boys crew… i gotta pack a tent and do dishes… i got no times to plan this crap. eeeeek. i’ll write it out on a napkin… xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx new topics of discussion we came up with this year -counter culture is a ghetto -opression VS. outsider pride // the balance -mental illness as component to outsider status -am i fucked up cuz im trans or trans cuz im fucked up most of the above things are hard to talk about singularily, they tend to mix together -creating family type structures in queertranspunk communities -majoring in queer-gender theory: accademic allies are inaccessble and alienating -learning to like the non trans queers i was dissing a year ago. if you can understand my trans with out treating me weird we can be frineds. -punk or trans enuff ?? labels are bullshit. trans and punk are adjectives not nouns. you choose yer own involvment like tyler durden. BONUS QUESTIONS if we have time -what the fuck is tranarchy? -transGOTH ! -fuck punk, i am a poser hipster. -punk is dead, welcome the new psychedlic trans movement. -lets argue about what is and is not punk divide a white board down the middle right side is PUNK left is NOT PUNK this excercise is deliberatly supoose to be stupid. -tell a short story about how you came in to trans and punk +++++ self realisation and validity ===== communitee — most TsPx kids got trasn punk simultaniously or used punk to support there trans. did anybuddy here get in to punk with trans as their gateway ? – i think thats the last of it… now i just gotta go through my other notes and i’ll have an excellent and complete if not kinda jerry rigged total overview of the TsPxian philosophers stone. i will do the trans punk workshop at your conference or gay university thing in return for train fair and accomodation and my rider which will include beer, weed, a selection of cheese, maybe some different kinds of cookies, maybe a steak… and uh… cocain and icecream. cuz i’m selling out. |
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Advice for new baby Shemales. And worse advice for haggered old Queens Blackmarket Mones Identification Chart How to Survive Getting Tr*nny-Bashed with an Iron Pipe |
The Power That Was
Sherilyn Connelly 6-8 minutes
Live in San Francisco long enough, and addresses of certain
long-gone places will make you a little wistful. After 22 years, the
ghosts that haunt me include the former Dark Room at 2263 Mission St.,
the original Le Video at 1239 Ninth Ave., and the second location of the
Power Exchange at 74 Otis St.
The original Power Exchange opened in February 1996 at 960 Harrison
St., with a second location on Otis Street opening three months later.
Dubbed the Main Station, the Harrison location was pansexual, while the
Substation on Otis was for gay and bi men. (Never quite enough places in
this town for them, are there?) Both locations ran afoul of the
city for assorted permit violations, and in 1999 the Harrison location
was closed for good, though by then the Otis location bore the
distinction of being not only the city’s largest sex club, but the only
licensed one, too — thanks to legislation introduced by then-Supervisor
Tom Ammiano in 1996 to establish standards for their operations. Power
Exchange owner Michael Powers supported the legislation, noting that
without it his club wouldn’t be acknowledged as a legitimate business,
while Mayor Willie Brown opposed it.
I was a regular at the Power Exchange for a few years in the
mid-aughts. Most nights, I just hung out in the fenced-off area of the
basement Dungeon known as the Cage, where I made many new friends, and
felt a sense of community stronger and more welcoming than anywhere else
in San Francisco’s sex culture.
Early on one of my first nights there in 2006, I went into the
upstairs women’s restroom. Studying myself in the mirror, I took out my
eyeshadow and made a dark band across my eyes from temple to temple.
With my bleached-blonde bangs edging close to my eyebrows, the makeup
job resembled Daryl Hannah’s replicant Pris in Blade Runner. That was the intention, anyway.
Upon arriving downstairs, I was promptly invited into the Cage by a
transvestite named Robin, and she soon became one of my best friends
there, someone I always looked forward to hanging out with. (It’s
something that can’t be overstated: so many people were just so nice
at the Power Exchange.) Robin was about 6 feet tall with a long brown
wig, and tended to wear demure blouses and skirts; she wasn’t shy about
lifting up those skirts, or anything else.
The consensus among the regulars in the Cage was that I belonged, and
being a carny at heart, Robin enjoyed showing me off: “Isn’t she hot?
Look at those legs, and that face.” It was nice of her to say, but it
didn’t stroke my ego as when different people throughout that evening
said I looked like “that one woman in Blade Runner.” Hotness is
subjective at best, but you either look like Pris or you don’t, and
independent verification suggested that I was pulling it off. Mission
accomplished! And I’d found a new home.
By the way, Pris’ incept date is Feb. 14, 2016. Celebrate Valentine’s Day accordingly.
When you arrived at the Power Exchange in 2006, an imposing yet
polite man at the door checked your ID, made sure you had a rudimentary
understanding of what the club was about — i.e., that it was a wholly
consent-based club where “no” meant “no,” and all sex was safe — and
sized you up to ensure you weren’t drunk or otherwise likely to cause
trouble. This process could take a while with newbies, especially as the
pricing was explained: Thursdays and Sundays, men got in for $15;
hetero couples were $10 total; and women got in free, whether they were
cisgender or trans*. The definition of the latter was necessarily
expansive, running the gamut from transgender women such as myself to
weekend crossdressers, and were referred to in the local argot as
“T-girls.” (I was fine with that term, and it’s still used as a positive
self-identification in some circles, perhaps because it never leaked
into the mainstream like certain other words that are now considered
slurs.)
On Friday and Saturday nights, couples were a mere $20, and once
again women — cis or trans* — got in free. Men in men’s clothing either
shelled out $75 to enter wearing their street clothes, or paid $35 if —
once inside — they took off their pants and wore a towel around their
waist or went naked. Single men were referred to as Tourists, and those
wearing towels were Towelboys. (All Towelboys were Tourists, but not all
Tourists were Towelboys.) On the third Saturdays, for the monthly
Fetish Ball — themed nights, such as the self-explanatory Swalloween
Ball in October — everyone paid $20, and those were usually the busiest
nights for cisgender people.
The pricing is a crucial detail: other than Fetish Ball nights,
T-girls of all stripes got in free, and were always welcome and
protected inside, with zero tolerance of transphobia. This effectively
doubled the number of completely safe places we could go late at night,
the other being the trans* bar Divas on Post and Polk streets (which is
another article altogether), and there was usually an influx of sex
workers at the Power Exchange after Divas closed at 2 a.m. This is not
to suggest that Divas and the Power Exchange were the only two options
after sunset, and I knew many respectable trans* women who avoided both
as a matter of principle, considering them ghettos to be risen above.
But to me, it was important that both places existed, particularly in a
queer community that worships and rewards masculinity so much.
This was also why I wasn’t bothered by the Tourists or the Towelboys,
many of whom had their penises in their hand at any given time, just as
the Power Exchange’s sub-gutter reputation suggested. I find cis male
penises icky, but they did me no harm; boundaries were closely guarded,
and nobody ever got closer to me than I wanted them to. Yes, they would
often staaaaaaare, even when I was just sitting in the Cage
writing in my notebook (and I got a lot of writing done there), but
those men paying to get in subsidized me being there for free, and I
owed them nothing in exchange. It bordered on a scam, and I loved it.
Comments
My Sissy Piss Slave Training
My Piss Slave Training
So I wanted to share my experiences of becoming a piss slave to my mistress.
She had been into watersports in other relationships and wanted a permanent ‘piss slave’ she could dominate; I was a little apprehensive but my mistress reassured me that after a little training, she thought I could be really good at it.
I’d like to recount my piss training experiences for anyone else who’s thinking of going down this road.
To start, we went shopping. We visited a sex shop and mistress picked me out a black rubber hood with eye and mouth holes, she said this would be ideal for when she gives me piss baths. Also, she purchased a leather dog collar with leash for leading me around the house. Lastly, she bought a vibrating inflatable butt plug for me- she said she wanted my ass stretched so it would take a large strap-on easily. As you can imagine, when we left the shop my cock was like a ramrod and I had to hide it with the shopping bags.
In the dark multi-storey car park, in the back of her small van and out of prying eyes, mistress ordered me to undress. I did as I was told and she put the brand new rubber hood and collar and leash onto me there and then.
She then produced a baby’s bottle from her bag and told me that I would be getting my first feed. She lifted her dress and pulled down her panties exposing her shaved pussy and proceeded to piss very carefully into the bottle; she then stuck the bottle into my mouth and told me to suck. I started gagging a little as the salty fluid filled my mouth but I soon got used it; for encouragement, she massaged by stiff cock and balls as I eagerly sucked up the last drops of golden liquid; mistress was delighted.
Back at the house, she laid out the rules of my piss slavedom. I was told that my genitals and ass crack needed to be shaved twice a day. I was only to move around the house on all-fours as my feet would be fastened together with a chain and leather ankle cuffs.
My mistress then proceeded to unpack the toys she’d bought. My ass was lubed up and the inflatable plug was inserted into my eager hole and it’s vibration function was switched on. Spunk quickly welled up from my balls onto my cock-head which caused my mistress to stop it immediately; from now on she would only allow me to cum once a week, she says that piss slaves aren’t as obedient after they’ve cum.
To top things off, mistress then produced a lipstick from her handbag and scrawled the words ‘PISS SLAVE’ right across my chest and back in blood red letters; I felt so proud. She then announced that my piss slave training was to begin right away.
She told me that she’d ease me into my routine gently; she led me to the bathroom on the leash and had me watch her piss into the toilet, I loved watching her shaved cunt lips part to let the stream of hot liquid out. When she finished, she ordered me to lick her pussy lips clean which I did like a hungry dog. She rewarded me by pumping up my butt plug just a little causing my cock to twitch with excitement.
She then took me downstairs and told me that as well as receiving piss, a good piss slave had to make piss too. She put a gag on my mouth which had a tube connected to a large glass jar with a tap. She turned on the tap and the liquid flowed into my mouth. It was just water and she said I had to drink the whole jar full while she made tea. After I’d drank for about five minutes she lifted the jar lid and standing with one leg on a stool proceeded to piss into it. She whipped my ass until I’d drunk every drop. My bladder to bursting but she told me that I was not to piss until ordered.
Meanwhile, mistress had prepared some pasta. She had me stand with my hands behind my back next to the table ready to eat. To my surprise, she held the plate just below my balls and bent my stiff cock down to it ordering me to piss onto it. I did as I was told and doused the meal. She then proceeded to feed it to me with her hand making sure that every mouthful of food was soaked in piss.
This was to be the pattern for every meal from now on; she would make food and get me to piss on it in between mouth-fulls until it was swimming in urine; for dessert she would often serve cake which she would piss on herself before spoon feeding it to me.
At night she would invariably watch porn, she was addicted to BDSM videos, especially one’s involving male domination and, of course pissing. While she watched she liked me to suck gently on her clit or lick her ass until she was dripping wet.
One of her favorite things is pissing into a glass bowl and having me lick it up; sometimes she removes my butt plug as well and fucks me with a large dildo or strap-on whilst I slurp.
She also frequently makes me piss into a baby’s bottle and then has me suck on it until it’s all gone.
One night she happened upon a video of a gay male slave wearing a kind of funnel-hood and having a load of big guys with huge cocks pissing straight into it, the next day she’d brought one home.
She strapped it’s leather straps over my rubber hood and secured the funnel gag into my mouth. She pulled her panties down and positioned herself over the hole; she let loose her piss load and watched as I tried to keep up with the flow. From then on, I had drink a funnel full of piss every time she needed the toilet; If we went out, she’d always try to provide me with fresh piss with the baby bottle, even in public.
I’ll tell you about a particularly memorable night last month. She had invited some girlfriends over and wanted me to be her ‘piss maid’ for the evening. In order that I look the part, she bought me a frilly latex short skirt and bra, and a pair of white high heels, she was going for a kind of kinked-up French maid type look. She said that as a treat, I could drink alcohol but that in order to stop any of her friends taking advantage of my cock, she was going to have to lock it up with a chastity devise.
She produced what looked like a silver water tap with a metal ring attached and fed my cock through, securing the ring around my shaved ball sack and locking it with a small padlock. I was instantly turned on by this but it’s curved shaft instantly stopped me from getting an erection, it was quite frustrating not to mention painful.
Anyway, the women began to arrive. I’d been introduced to many of them before individually as my mistress’ piss slave but I’d never experienced them as a group; most of them were already tipsy and horny with it.
I knew what my duties would be tonight. Firstly, I was to hang around the toilet on my hands and knees and lick clean the pussy’s of the guests after they’d peed, if they desired it; I enjoyed this and six women let me service them before I was called into the living room.
They wanted to see me drink and mistress fastened my piss funnel to my head. They proceeded to feed me alcohol- bier, vodka, gin, whisky until I was very drunk and bursting for a piss.
My mistress then announced that they were going to experience the highlight of the evening. She unlocked my cock from it’s cage and it instantly sprang to life; she also removed my funnel hood and secured my hands behind my back with handcuffs.
She reached into her bag for what I could see was some kind of black rubber sex toy; on one end was a rubber cock sheath which she slid onto my eager prick. This had a clear tube attached to it which I then realized was a mouth gag which she preceded to secure onto my face.
All the women were clapping their hands goading me to piss. I released my load and could see the yellow liquid making its way up the tube into my mouth, it was so humiliating but so kinky too; I must have drunk a pint of my own piss and this really amused the women who’d recorded the whole thing on their phone cameras.
After about half an hour of recycling my own cock juice, the sheath and gag were removed and the women decided to have a little gambling fun. Some paper was put down on the floor and a line was drawn. I was ordered to kneel with by knees against the line and someone produced a tape measure which was going to measure how far they could make my spunk shoot. Ten dollar bets were placed and three women started to work on making me cum- one on my cock, one on my balls with one controlling the inflatable plug which was still lodged up my ass. They started work and it wasn’t long before I shot five long streams of spunk into the air; the first went furthest and money exchanged hands; I was just so glad to get some relief for once.
The winner of the bet was given a strap-on as a bonus prize and was told to fuck me in the ass with it and boy did I get my hole stretched. By the time she’d finished I could feel my ass muscle opening and closing like a stranded fish gasping for air. It must have been quite a sight because all the women again took turns to video it with their phones. The ultimate humiliation then came when one of them decided to stick the neck of a beer bottle up me and make walk around on all fours with it in.
To end the evening, my mistress had me lie in the bath and let each woman position their pussies right over my open mouth before pissing straight into it; needless to say there was lots of overspill and after a while I was literally swimming in hot piss. When the husbands arrived to pick their wives up, they were made to piss on me as well and one woman even persuaded her husband to shoot his load all over my face; the feeling of lying there, dripping with piss and cum was just delicious; I just love my life as a piss slave.are the love
That got pretty intense toward the end of the story 2 stars (lost 2 stars for the twist at the end)
men are sissified and feminized Female Supremacy Slaves
Femdom Feminization Stories
, Superiority Stories – Femdom Art & Prose
Femdom Feminization Stories
Stories of Gynarchies in which men are sissified and feminized. Stripped of masculinity men are marks as weaklings without masculine power.
Gynarchic Force-feminization & Breast Augmentation
Women Rebuild Men
After the triumph of gynarchy and the enslavement of men, many problems await solution. Time and organization ends most of these.
After ratifying a new constitution, arranging the economy to thrive with slave labor, an aesthetic crisis often remains.
The disgustingness of men.
Some civilizations practice gender apartheid: separate and unequal. On a few planets, male ghettos evolve. One popular solution: storing men in barracks and Maletoriums. Another: confinement to islands.
Often men live on vast farms and ranches. Mistress Overseers monitor laborers at a distance. Occasional need for personal contact inevitably arises. These women command enormous wages.
Overwhelmingly, women in gynarchic cultures want males as personal servitors. Exercising control of the inferior gender satisfies their nature. Mistress Owners enjoy randomly tormenting and degrading slaves.
This world chose force-feminization. It began with depilation and transvestism. Mistress Owners trained their chattels to paint their nails, apply cosmetics and maintain wigs.
No one felt this an adequate solution.
Breast augmentation began. Male silhouettes matched female. (Controlled breeding aimed to produce shorter men.)
Transforming men into faux females seems only a half measure.
For many women, the penis is an obstacle. Locked in steel, under clothes, mere knowledge of its presence disgusts the superior gender’s higher sensibilities.
The emerging consensus trends toward phallic excision. Many hope penectomy will make men tolerable.
Female Supremacy: Sisters Enslave Brothers
Under Gynarchy, Sister Humiliates Brother
As you know, when practical female supremacy – gynarchic government – begins, the Male Problem is a major priority. Every man requires supervision of a Mistress Owner. He must serve a woman who will teach him humility and obedience.
Young male adults become property of family members. But not mothers. They must begin husbands’ and lovers’ enslavement. Her compassion might also hinder clear thinking. Her sun must realize and accept his inferior status.
In a new gynarchy, a young man may become the slave of a cousin, niece, aunt or sister. Many sisters enslave their brothers.
She delights in her unlimited authority. If he bullied her or was a nuisance, she takes revenge. Getting even is a right. Suffering edifies the inferior gender. He must face the folly of angering a woman.
Payback is often turning her brother into a bitch.
Feminizing a formerly macho brother diminishes his male ego. She crushes his masculine egotism. Being a man is not an advantage. It is a shame.
The young woman in the picture is role model. Her heartless, sadistic reduction of her brother won the admiration of other young Dommes. Public degradation is a warning to men. Obey, be humble or laughed at by the world.
As she led him by a phallic leash, she savaged him with words. Curses alternated with mockery. She never tired of reminding him of his pathetic, inadequate penis.
She walked him over rough surfaces. Scars and bruises covered his soles. Each step hurt.
She paused only to lash him with a riding crop. Made of black metal, the crop cut his skin.
Women stopped to enjoy the sight. No woman could control her laughter. Some envied the young woman. Men suffered more the day his Mistress Owner returned home after watching the humiliating procession.
She lectures on female supremacy and male inferiority. Women should push their limits by ignoring men’s. Use him. Treat him like an appliance. Or like scum. She exhorts women to cultivate their cruelty. To discover the beauty of sadism.
Women take these words to heart. How men tremble in the presence of the newly self-defined Mistress Owners.
( * In the early days of Femdomocracy, Emma’s art was a major source of inspiration.)
Female Supremacy: Men Exist Only to Serve Women
Men Exist to Serve
When vacuüm cleaner or lawn mower malfunctions, you may kick the offending mechanism. You are not punishing it, merely expressing annoyance.
Many devices exist for use. No one wonders if they have souls or emotions. Such thoughts are preposterous.
When a sponge or scrub brush is replaced, no one thinks of the discard’s fate. It is merely one in a series of indistinguishable items.
The picture captures a commonplace scene on a female supremacist planet. The sissified male with large breasts is a pet. Pets have names. Pethood is the highest status a male can achieve.
The male unit functioning as a chair is an average man. He has an identification number. Mistress Owner probably does not know it. Male units function properly. When one fails it is replaced.
The male unit is typical of most men living on female supremacist worlds. It has never been tortured. Nor has it received a moment’s kindness.
It exists for use. The women who use it barely notice it exists. It may be kicked or slapped. Wrath of a moment’s irritation directed to the nearest target.
Relations between male units and Mistress Owners are impersonal.
If the male unit’s functioning is no longer satisfactory, it is replaced. No one remembers that it existed. Predecessor and successor units blend into sameness. It might as well be one permanent unit.
Defective and broken units are sent to a Dissolution Center.
Pets live with their Mistress Owners until they die of old age. Even they are indifferent to and ignorant of the sequence of male units.
Men exist to serve. That needs no elaboration. Men exist to serve. Men who cannot cease to exist. Men exist to serve.
Slave Men Kept Locked in Closets
The Male Storage Problem
The grand narrative of Female Supremacy focuses on the political and social ascendancy of women. Secondarily, the abolition of male civil rights.
The imagination is distracted by the torment of the inferior gender and glamour of masculine suffering.
The establishment of absolutist Matriarchy and Gynarchy ramifies into many advances and specialist projects.
When men are commodities, buying and selling males is a large part of the economy. Unowned men must be housed and fed. Men are trained for special tasks. Slave trading establishments range from companies that sell men in bulk, to small proprietorships specializing in love slaves.
Broadcasts of men tossing balls are replaced with gaudy spectacles of men in pain. The market for male clothing vanishes. Shackles and whips enter the mainstream.
Radio shows about automobiles leave the air to make way for public discussions of tease and denial and enforced male chastity.
Femdomocracies undergo unexpected, marvelous changes after the enslavement of malekind.
For example, we have talked often of the need for storage of males. Men are locked in bondage devices integrated into household furnishings. Others are kept under floors.
Common bedroom closets become housing for slave men.
Blond Mistress Owner is talking to a contractor. The current arrangement wastes space. She wants the closet rebuilt.
The contractor explains, that with the male’s back against the wall, the space can be reduced to two feet.
If Mistress Owner wishes, a large suction hose can be installed to prevent accumulation of filth. If she has no use for the male, it can be ignored.
There are other options. Headphones for slave programming. Lights that flash randomly to prevent sleep. The new closet is useful for storage, training and punishment.
By the end of the year, tiny closets will be the most common form of male storage.
Bully Girls: Cruel, Dominant, Aggressive, Violent
Bully Girls Torment Sissies
Even in Femdomocratic Cultures there are fads, fancies and fashions. Here young women often spend a year or more as Bully Girls. They have yet to set up a permanent female supremacist household.
Hormonal surges keep them preoccupied with male misery. They usually travel in pairs. Large gathers form for communal torment parties.
Angry Mistress Owners punish wicked men by lending them to a Billy Girl. He returns home humiliated, aching and chastened.
Bully Girls are uninhibited. Random acts of physical cruelty fill their days. Fearful men are unnerved to be near them.
Sometimes males panic. Pointless tears arouse Bully Girls’ sadism. Men know not to beg. Pleading aggravates Bully Girls.
Neighborhoods popular with the women, have special places. A man found there becomes temporary property of the first Bully Girl who sees him. For four hours, she can do as she wishes. Killing or permanently crippling the male is forbidden. The penalty is a modest fine.
Feminized males are Bully Girls’ favorite playthings.
The women have cruel, colorful, obscene vocabularies. Sissies flinch and blush as the Bully Girls mock them.
They treat sissies’ faces like coloring books. The males look like crude cartoons.
Sissies are forced to clean the sidewalk with their tongues. Often, after the women drench it with urine. Bully Girls follow behind, kicking, ordering the sissy men to work harder and faster.
The women’s favorite punishment devices are their fists. Their idea of male beauty includes black eyes and busted lips.
Cameras are always recording. The most entertaining humiliations and torments will stream forever.
Sissy slaves inspire the women to bring out their strap-ons. They are coated with a burning lubricant. Hours after the Bully Girls leave, sissy continues to writhe in pain.
Feminization & Sissification Class
Sissy Classroom Specimen
This is one of those worlds where much of young women’s education prepares her for a life as an owner of men. An unusually intellectual culture, it is an axiom that formal study enables women to enjoy male chattels more fully.
As we have seen elsewhere, there are classes specializing in bondage and corporal punishment. Prizes are awarded for excellence in making men uncomfortable. Weekly whipping contests allow the young Dommes to demonstrate their subtle prowess with whips and floggers.
Verbal control, spoken cruelty is the most popular course. Every woman enjoys humiliating men. Battered egos keep men from every feeling the least vanity.
The picture is of a Feminization & Sissification class. Students will play with and torment a series of feminized men.
Men wear garish cosmetics. Seeing himself in a mirror makes a sissy cringe with self-disgust.
Young Dommes learn how to select boots for sissy slaves. The boots must be uncomfortable without injuring the slaves’ feet. Prudent Mistress Owners strive to make their chattels functional as long as possible.
Feminization & Sissification class includes extra study of male chastity devices (MCDs). Males often wear painful MCDs, e.g., the Teeth of Kali.
CBT is another specialty of the class. Each student spends time studying the nuances of this most effective inducer of anguish. (When a sissy learns that he will serve as a classroom specimen, he bursts into tears.)
Here women hone the skills they learned in Verbal Sadism class. They either laugh at the sissy or mock and scorn him. If he had any ego, it is soon dead.
Classroom sissies are being punished by their Mistress Owners. Unwanted sissy slaves are often donated to schools.
Feminization & Sissification class has led to an increase in the sissy population. More women feel this is the just fate of a man. The classes are so much fun. Women want an abundance of sissies to torment.
Sissified Males Painful Chastity Device
Forced Sissification & Male Chastity
Gynarchy triumphed. Women subdued men. Sharing replaced competition. Wars vanished. Passports were no longer necessary. National boundaries were erased. The Unified Gynecocracies ruled the world.
Male freedom was dangerous. Men were enslaved. The male population was separated into two groups.
I – Work Slaves
Labor slaves worked in mines, on farms and ranches. They lived in Maletoriums. Labor slaves spend long, arduous days despite weather, working under the supervision of Mistress Overseers.
They had almost no contact with women. Mistress Overseers governed them at a distance. Males were collared at maturity. Forged of adamantine metal, collars remained in place for life. Nanotechnology was highly advanced. Sensors and a transceiver were embedded in the collar. A small receiver was implanted in the males’ brains.
Male misbehavior or laziness was punished with a quick shock of pure pain. Work slaves strived to obey. Their high testosterone level made that difficult.
II – Sissy Slaves
A minority of men were force-sissified. Feminized males were personal servants, waitrons and playthings.
Women despised masculine bodies. Only complete sissification made the sissy slaves tolerable. Sissies were gelded. Implants created faux female breasts.
Nipple covers produced electric shocks. A lazy or disobedient sissy received instant correction.
Many sissies lived with a Mistress Owner. These sissies were cooks and maidservants.
They had the honor of helping their Mistress Owners bathe. Some used toilet paper to clean her.
Helping Mistress Owner dress and undress was a special treat for the feminized slaves. Males were inevitably, helplessly aroused.
Sissies were forbidden erections. Mistress Owners made a game of keeping sissy males limp.
Their chastity devices were akin to the teeth-of-Kali MCD. Sharp spikes made the slightest increase in size painful.
Enjoying this, special care was taken with sissy slaves’ sexual health. Aphrodisiacs were blended with sissy food.
Touching Mistress Owner’s body aroused the sissy male. In a cruel mood, she would kiss and caress her sissy to enjoy its pain.
If a sissy loses the ability to become erect, it is transferred to a dungeon for other forms of sadistic entertainment.
Feminized Males Make Great Birthday Presents
Happy Birthday, Mistress Owner!
On this woman-ruled planet, the more opulent Mistress Owners sometimes give slave men as birthday presents.
A common male slave does not constitute a satisfactory gift. To give an ordinary male labor slave would a failure of judgment and taste. The human gift should have at least the qualities of a personal attendant, preferably able to give pleasure as a love slave.
Gift slave men must always be comely. Being good to look at is a minimal requirement. Prior training is requisite. The slave will be well spoken, gentle of manner. He will be one of the rare slave men who know how to read and write (necessary in the best personal attendant slaves).
Trained as a love slave, he will be able to give his new owner great erotic pleasure. Deft, nuanced, prolonged cunnilingus will be second nature.
His new Mistress Owner may keep him nude; the slave will be dressed when given. The giver will know her friend’s preferences in slave attire.
Custom decrees that the slave appear lightly feminized. His new Mistress Owner will sissify him to her taste.
That the slave is dressed when given is a formality. Stripped instantly, all the women have a complete view of his body. Naturally, they will laugh at and mock the slave. Passed around, each woman will have fun tormenting him.
Then a roundtable whipping will follow with each Mistress taking turns lashing the slave. That ceremony completed he is sent to Mistress Owner’s bedroom and locked in a small cage.
After the party’s end, Mistress Owner will have her first private session with her new human plaything. She will be very drunk. Her rough treatment may terrify the poor slave creature.
The gift of an excellent male slave is a gift long remembered.
Femdomocracy consists of vignettes and stories of Matriarchal, Gynarchic female domination. Women rule. Men serve.
The Femdomocratic multiverses, meta-universes, paracosms are filled with worlds where women are supreme. Internal coherence is not a goal.
Matrifascist ideology often prevails. Female superiority and male inferiority is the entrenched ethos.
Men are chattels, human property. Female supremacy is the law. Often the religion. Often men have no civil rights. Some Gynocrats declare men are not human.
Gynosupremacist erotic fantasies are not statements of personal politics. The stories aim to satisfy atypical sexual and romantic emotions.
My purpose is to give enjoyment to men with impossible desires.
Caveats Lector
Femdom erotica of an outré for a special audience. You may prefer gentler more humane female domination fantasies. Hopefully Google can be your guide
Sissy Punishment Device
Sissy Slave Archives — Page 3 of 10 — Femdomonomy
Sissy Bondage & Discipline
Swiss Jim
Mistress Owner tolerates no sissy misbehavior. It is her conviction that sissy slaves’ submission includes mind, heart and action.
Sissies are servants. Obedience must be instantaneous. The slave never quibbles with Mistress Owner. Misunderstanding an order is a defect of servitude.
Mistress Owner judges a sissy’s heart by the look of the slave’s eyes. The slave’s face must always reflect humility. The alternative expression is fear.
Mistress Owner does not whip sissies. She knows that many are pain junkies. True punishment causes suffering beyond masochism. That is why she constructed this special punishment device.
The sissy kneels on two sharp edges that cut into the flesh of the slave’s legs. Movement increases torment.
Rope binds the sissy’s hands and arms preventing them for ameliorating discomfort.
A special collar, muzzle is locked around the sissy’s head. Mistress Owner adjusts the device. Each movement of the levers bends the sissy’s neck. Agony is tremendous. The metal muzzle muffles the slave’s moans.
A half hour in the punishment device ensures that if the sissy’s eyes do not reflect worship, Mistress Owner will at least see fear.
Forced Feminization, Enslavement of Arrogant Men
Sissifying Macho Men
Submissen
Breaking the masculine ego is as much an organic part of Femdomonomy as spanking men.
Forced sissification emasculates men. Unless the man has an unconfessed craving to be feminized. Then unknowingly a Mistress serves the male’s needs. Disgusting and unacceptable.
The slaver team in the picture only sissifies macho men. Nothing more capably corrodes their self-esteem. Wearing stockings and heels shames the arrogant brutes. Apply lipstick, they burst into tears.
The slavers prefer to kidnap and enslave hypermasculine men. These men abuse freedom. A social blight and women’s enemies, the world improves when such a man becomes a sissymaid.
The slavers delight in the most inferior men’s degradation. What could be more Femdomonomic than turning the tables on bad men?
Hypermasculine men live everywhere. Bluster and homophobia identify them.
One of the women easily seduces self-imagined studs.
Male response to waking in chains or a cage is so common as to verge on ritual. They threaten their captors. As if loudness could overcome their helplessness. They try to bargain for freedom. Lastly, the men beg. There is no better way to begin slave training than begging.
Feminization begins with high heel shoes. Newly enslaved men must wear them at all time. Now they learn about women’s discomfort. At first the men often trip and fall. The slavers giggle. Women’s laughter intensifies shame.
Men learn to paint fingernails. To put on hosiery. To apply lipstick. They loathe each act but fear punishment.
Sissification is not enough.
Led by leashes, men crawl on hands and knees. Eat from bowls. They are animals. Less than women. Less than other men.
Slavers spank men several times daily. At least one corporal punishment session focuses on male genitalia.
Strap-dildo sessions destroy the last residue of masculine ego.
The slavers pummel the men’s throats.
Having often talked of anal sex, they finally experience it. Feeling disgraced the men cannot look the slavers in the eye.
Male pride washed away, each man becomes the permanent property of a Mistress Owner. She has the power of life and death over her chattels.
Soon the slavers go in search of new men. Training and selling them is a big part of the Femdom economy.
Slave’s Force Feminization: Artificial Breasts Torment
Domme Torments Sissy’s Breasts
Mistress O became a professional Femdom slaver for a single reason. To always have inexperienced men to torment. A perk of the profession. Few slavers feel her singleness of purpose. She treasures male suffering more than money.
She specializes. Mistress O force feminizes men. No slaver is so thorough or provides such a complete product.
She perfected a swift method of electrolysis. It causes intense pain. Tight straps that almost cut off circulation hold subjects to a metal frame. Gags block shrieks and screams.
After an electrolysis session, Mistress O whips the aching male. She never neglects the recently depilated skin.
The suppressed spasms during treatment leave men’s muscles aching.
Residual pain prevents sleep. Locked in small cages, agonized men weep until fainting from exhaustion. Tormented by lurid, violent dreams, sleep provides no peace.
Seemingly endless anguish instills fear. Mistress O’s slaves become obsequious, self-abasing maidservants.
Phase two of feminization: surgical creation of large artificial breasts.
Mistress O wishes the surgeon could operate without anesthetic. But the slave would either die or go insane.
She locks the new sissy slave in a chastity device. Sissified servitors live without pleasure.
Mistress O amuses herself with various anal humiliations and torments. Her big strap-on dildo brings fresh screams.
She plays games with the sissy’s new breasts. Nipple clamps locked to chains make movement painful. Moving in response to pain only causes more suffering.
Lastly, she puts sissy’s breasts between rollers. Slowly she tightens them. The slave fears his body will burst.
Bored with her toy, Mistress O puts sissy up for auction. Her sissy slaves sell quickly. The Mistress Owner immediately picks up her new maidservant.
Mistress O forgets the creature. Her mind is already focusing on the next male.
She will make a round of bars. Men will buy her drinks and make passes. One will wake in a cage. Scream as the slaver burns away hair follicles.
The process begins again. Mistress O never tires of enslaving and feminizing the inferior gender.
Sissies Work as Sex Slaves in Brothels
Feminized Sex Slaves
Most force feminized slave men become maidservants in the home of a Mistress Owner. They do many boring tasks. The sissy slave’s only purpose is to make Mistress Owner’s life easier.
Some become sex slaves. A few live as the sex toys of a Mistress or Master.
Most sissy sex slaves work in hidden bordellos that are part of the secret Femdomonomic subculture.
Brothel sissies work long shifts. Aside from preset and short sleeping and eating periods, the slaves must remain available.
Clients of whatever gender come to relax and amuse themselves. The customer is eternally right. No demand is too outré, stressful or painful.
A sissy cannot shrink from some act because it disgusts the slave. Clients bend and twist sissies into weird, agonizing shapes.
All rooms have bondage gear, restraints, whips, needles, hot wax, testicle crushers and terrible devices no one has ever named.
Thick, heavy soundproofing keeps clients from distracting each other. Customers enjoy their wickedest, cruelest fantasies.
Clients post deposits. The money is returned unless the customer lost self-control. The fee pays for the acquisition of a replacement.
Sex slaves receive no compensation. Extreme pain and degradation never bring reward. Sissies exist to enrich their Domme Madams.
Sissies serve in brothels for only a few years. Customers sometimes buy an older -late 20s- sissy at a discount. Some slaves become janitorial staff.
Others go back to the slaver. Trade-ins do not bring much money. Used sissies are not in high demand.
Heterosexual Men Forced to Have Sex With Each Othe
Forced Male Bisexuality
Bill Ward
Kidnapped, chained, a man’s primary response is terror. That fear is his first step toward slavery.
Slavers use many methods to train men for Femdom slavery. Sometimes training is minimal. The man learns escape is impossible. His future fixed. Until he dies, he will serve a Mistress Owner.
Some men learn an extensive inventory of programmed reactions. Protocol.
All slave trainers undermine male vanity. Slaves are forbidden self-esteem. Men’s egos must die.
Sexual shame is a molder of slave men. They live sexually tormented and denied. Some Dommes prefer their males castrated. That is rare. Testicles are valuable toys for any sadistic woman.
This Mistress Slaver abducts only hyper-masculine heterosexual men. She uses homophobia to humiliate them.
Forced bisexuality is her key tool. To her trainee slaves, she says that she is forcing them to accept their homosexuality. The words are more wounding.
Her technique requires that she kidnap two men.
At first, they resist. To merely touch another man’s penis is anathema.
How much worse it is to be a receptacle of another man’s ejaculation. She says that they must learn to be ‘cumdumpsters.’ Misogynistic words, they may have used for women.
Punishing men for sexism is an unalloyed delight.
There are three stages. First each man inserts increasingly large dildos in the other. Disgust and fear tightens their sphincter muscles, causing terrible pain.
Next, the two men penetrate each other. She forces them to kiss.
Lastly, she feminized the men. While wearing gaudy pink, the men prance and sing in falsetto voices.
The sight of one shames the other. Egos perish. Haunted by degradation, they despise themselves.
Meek, humble, they go on auction.
Many Mistress Owners, knowing of their training buy them to be sissy maidservants.
Sister Sells Brother: He is Force Feminized & Enslaved
Force-feminized & Enslaved
Emma S
Both of June’s parents worked long hours. She and her brother Julius lived without adult supervision.
Julius tormented his sister. His endless pranks and cruel tricks often left her in tears. Her parents admonished their son to treat June with kindness. Julius ignored them.
In desperation June asked to go to a private school. Parental careers brought the family affluence if not happiness. Her mother and father wanted the best for her. They sent her to an excellent private school.
Pleased with the idea, they sent Julius to a boy’s academy. He refused to go. His parents gave him no choice. June laughed. It was a small measure of payback.
June selected a school whose propaganda stressed female empowerment, womanly authority. The school lived up to its brochure.
How the young women held themselves, impressed her. They all radiated pride. She had never seen so much assurance. She felt these women could conquer the world if they chose to.
Her roommate Augusta overawed her. June flinched when the shook hands. Augusta apologized. She told June to strengthen her grip. Here women cultivated traits conveying female strength. No man could doubt he faced an equal if not superior.
Augusta was an excellent mentor. June blossomed. She never slouched. Learned to look people straight in the eye.
At Christmas vacation, her firm handshake startled her father. He expected a hug. Julius tried to embarrass her. She slapped him. He started to hit her. Her look intimated him. Julius kept away from his sister.
Back at school, she told Augusta about her brother. At the latter’s advice, she took self-defense classes.
June studied hard. Augusta helped her choose classes. She studied matriarchal political and social philosophy.
She attended a seminar devoted to Venus in Furs. (The eBook edition translated and illustrated by Sardax.)
The novel shaped her dreams. She spent nights in imaginary dungeons tormenting men. They were slaves, her property.
She told Augusta and confessed her confusion. Her friend told she had the same dreams. They started when she was a little girl.
June felt perverted. Augusta told her, she was evolving into her true self.
The women visited the art center to see a new exhibition. Pictures by Sardax, Eric Stanton and Nanshank seemed to have been taken from her dreams. All the art aroused her. She hid in a bathroom stall. Masturbation calmed her.
Later, Augusta took June to a special section of the library. Every book dealt with female domination. Prose, poetry and Femdom artwork.
June could never decide if it were libido or reason that led her to Femdom. Both, most likely. It did not matter. Hurting, manipulating, controlling men was a personal necessity. Male laws are irrelevant.
Augusta had waited for this moment. She introduced June to the invisible Femdomonomic underground.
They went to a Femdom party. Unlike public fetish parties, all the men were slaves. Brought by Mistress Owners for communal sadistic play.
A novice Domme, June was welcomed by all. She spent time with many men. Her arms grew tired from whipping and slapping men. Weary limbs were a fair trade for pleasure.
June had lacked a goal. She struggled to discover a career that would be fulfilling. Working for a male was unthinkable. She could not think of man as her equal much less her superior.
Her parents died. Her inheritance was enough for her to live without working. June would need to be frugal. But that could not satisfy her ambitious nature.
Augusta invited June to visit her aunt. Aunt Maybelle was a slaver. She seduced, kidnapped, trained and sold men. She worked for herself. Her home, car and clothes suggested she had a healthy income.
June asked Maybelle about working as a slaver. The latter shared many hilarious stories. June expressed her envy. Maybelle offered her an apprenticeship.
June’s beauty and persona made seduction effortless. She had a knack for abduction. Watching men learn their fate was the best part of the day. She crushed egos with zest.
Using part of her inheritance, she bought a large home. Special contractors outfitted her basement. They installed cages, benches and other implements of the slaver’s trade. Two bondage gear stores had their best week of the year.
June’s reputation grew swiftly. She could barely keep up with demand. The rest of her inheritance went untouched. Selling men allowed her a life of luxury (when she allowed herself time to enjoy it).
One day Julius called. He begged to see her. June had not missed her brother. She almost refused. Curious, she invited him to come over.
Worn and ragged, he looked awful. Julius wasted his entire inheritance. He asked June to lend him money. She refused. He begged. Then threatened. Her brother was a selfish and obnoxious as she remembered.
June told her brother to get a job. He said no one would hire him. Thrown out of several schools, he never earned a degree. And the rags he wore were the only clothing he owned.
She almost softened. Only because she thought of her parents. She knew her brother would waste money she gave him. And return for more.
Her brother was worse than the average man. He could never take care of himself. He would be better off if he were a woman’s slave. He needed womanly authority.
That was it. She would enslave her brother. Not that he would live with her. She never kept slaves and certainly did not want Julius.
June promised to get him work. No training required. He would even be supplied with new clothes.
He thanked his sister. She wanted to laugh. Laughter would come later.
She made coffee, drugged his cup.
After he passed out, she stripped off his clothes. Julius awoke in a chair. He wore women’s lingerie, a wig and makeup. Arms chained behind his back. His genitals leashed. June held the leash.
He jumped from the chair. June yanked the leash. Pain dropped him to the floor.
June held a mirror.
“How do you like your new clothes?”
He threatened. Moving to attack her, she yanked the chain again. She kicked him.
Julius yelled, screamed. His sister ignored him.
He realized his helplessness.
He stood and stared at June.
She started laughing. She could not stop. Hearing a car door, slam, she quietened.
She said, “Your new employer. Your owner. You are her slave.”
Julius asked, “Why?”
“Because you are a man. You are a bully. You are worthless.”
Going to the door, she let her customer in.
“He is all yours. You will need to whip him hard and often. He needs his ego crushed.”
Julius turned pale. His sister told a woman to torture him.
“You wanted a new sissy. He is yours, free of charge.”
The two women chatted. Paralyzed by shock, Julius listened to the two women talk about his coming degradation and pain. They made it all sound ordinary. They terrified him.
An hour later, June helped transfer Julius to her client’s car.
Later she received pictures of his body after a heavy, brutal whipping. Then of him on his knees, servicing men at a Leathermen’s party.
She never again saw her brother.
Sissy Slave’s Electrified Male Chastity Devic
Electroshock MCD
The new male did not adjust well to forced-feminization. He ruined his first teddy and stockings.
Mistress Trainer shackled his arms. Then plunged his face under water in the tub. She held him in place until he fainted from lack of hair. Later she whipped him until moist red welts covered his back.
Cleansed of masculine aggression his conversion and training resumed. Mistress Trainer ordered him into new clothing.
Dolled up in red and pink, the male was admirably timid. The new sissy looked in a mirror. He saw an ugly man pretending to be a woman. The Domme allowed him a good cry. His tears aroused her. The Domme planned to spend the night with her sexy new girlfriend.
She thought the new sissy would resist the chastity device. With one firm look, she subdued him. Fear was so useful in controlling the lesser gender. Terror is even more effective than spanking. But not for everyday use.
Mistress Trainer demonstrated the MCD’s distinctive feature. Pressing a remote control, she shocked sissy. The slave to the floor.
Fresh fear in his eyes. He was the kind of man she most loved to play with. He had been a macho braggart. All his masculine pretensions were wiped away.
Now he pled “Please Mistress” before asking to go to the bathroom.
Afraid to do wrong, he was almost trained.
But she wanted to have more fun. She kept her finger near the button.
The slaver ordered sissy to talk with a high voice. And lisp. She convinced him that his next Mistress Owner would expect this. A lie. He would probably be punished for silly behavior.
Playing tricks on stupid men is irresistible. Men are gullible. One day other women would discover this. Male power would end.
She pushed the bottom. Held it down. Watched sissy writhe.
Mistress Trainer knows how to enjoy men.
Young Dommes Buy Their First Sissy Maidservant
Young Married Couple’s Sissy Maidservant
Neither wife wanted to cook nor clean house. The obvious solution: a pre-trained sissy slave.
The sissy would swiftly learn how to make coffee to each Dommes’ taste. How to spice their favorite meals. Sissy would mop floors, make beds, scrub toilets and so much other necessary drudgery. With whips and canes, they would mold the servitor.
They believe in the Femdomonomic cliché: A whip for every woman, a whipping for every man.
Once fully trained, sissy would be a biological automaton. An extension of their will.
You do not see SensualSadistCom listed in the building’s directory. A private elevator opens on the top floor waiting area. SensualSadistCom’s owners also own the skyscraper. Only the Femdomonomic elites know the company exists.
Using the SensualSadistCom app, the women scanned the company’s current sissy slave inventory. They sought a servitor suitable to a young married couple. Men are never pretty but they did not want to have a grotesque creature in their home.
They listed a dozen potential servants. Then scheduled an appointment. They rejected all. Feminization failed to conceal their original masculinity. A disgusting attribute neither would tolerate. Some men were too ugly. This meeting was probably their last chance. They were probably scheduled for disposal.
The young Mistresses feared SensualSadistCom did not deserve its reputation. The agent checked the inventory. While the women examined the unwanted sissies, a new male entered inventory. His photograph showed promise.
Feminization had successfully suppressed his maleness. Genitals were on display. That is common. Exposed genitalia enable impromptu humiliation and quick punishment. (Of course, some women like to kick or punch scrotal sacs for fun.)
One wife asked:
“What are you?”
“A worthless inferior, whose only purpose is to serve it superiors.”
The slave’s response pleased both wives. His sincerity would be severely tested.
The other Mistress said she wished he had bigger breasts. The agent offered to have them enlarged without additional cost.
The women decided to wait. They wanted to make sure the sissy gave satisfactory service.
They took him home on thirty-day approval.
The sissy was pleasingly obsequious.
He promptly completed tasks.
Servile and a hard worker. A sissy to keep.
Sissy is fun to torment. A woman cannot help but giggle at his yelps and moans.
No sissy has bigger breasts. Visiting Dommes can never resist pinching a nipple. The women encouraging their friends to humiliate the slave. (Small egos for small minds, Femdomosophic Fragments).
Welts and tears are proper to sissies. As are hours of boring labor.
The Mistress Owners give SensualSadistCom five stars.
Female Supremacy: Recreational Sadism at the Office
Femdom Feminization Stories
Stories of Gynarchies in which men are sissified and feminized. Stripped of masculinity men are marks as weaklings without masculine power.
Sissy’s First Office Party
A Mistress Owner leads a so-called human male by a leash. Random tugs off the genital leash, force him to keep pace. In public, males must be sissified, their bodies shaven.
Mistress Owners often take sissies for walkies. Women’s mockery and laughter, keep male egos tiny. For controlling men, public humiliation is second only to physical pain.
Pink cheeks of shame on the face are kin to red stripes from a leather on the buttocks.
The woman on the right comes from a region where men never appear outside Mistress Owners’ homes. Even then, slaves remain masked or hooded. The least fortunate, live in bodysuits that hide body and face.
Shocked, disgusted by the man’s face, she may vomit.
A small group of women live in isolation served only by machines. No male enters their area. Visiting Mistress Owners must leave their human chattels at home.
Once there was talk of erasing the male gender. Misandrists campaigned for “No More Men.”
The majority, intensely cruel block this. A world without men’s screams and tears was unthinkable.
Likewise, they defeated mandatory castration and penectomy at birth. Male genitalia are the best pathways to pain and suffering.
This sissy accompanies Mistress Owner to work. The company holds a monthly employee Cruelty Party. A sadist’s potluck. Mistresses bring men and pain toys. After lunch they meet and swap males and implements.
Time for recreational sadism is an employee’s right. Most days women use the pain slaves provided by their employer. Monthly Cruelty Parties boost morale and ensure a happy workforce.
Mistress Owner only recently acquired the sissy. He has never been to a Cruelty Party. By the end, lashed, pinched, kicked and slapped, he will have an inkling of his future.
Men exist to serve. Automation does better work. But machines never feel shame, cannot suffer.
Male pain remains an eternal source of universal joy among women. Only this justifies the lesser gender’s continued survival.
Sissy Lifestyle Degradation
Submissen
After the triumph of female supremacy women may need to learn how to embrace their new role as owners of men. Gynotopia philosophers and Gynofascist scholars became educators.
Some women must unlearn misplaced kindness. Men take advantages of gentle women. Carrying cane and whips is not enough. Women need encouragement. One joy of sisterhood is helping another woman embrace her sadism. What woman will ever forget the ecstasy of the day she first whipped a man?
Before the revolution, masculine laziness caused women to work longer and harder than men. Women needed to cultivate enjoyment of leisure. Cooking, cleaning and other chores now became the work of men.
Elderly men went to a special reservation. The “Country of the Old” lived apart from the rest. Women never visited.
Other men worked hard. Fat men found no pity. Beatings and minimal food made them competent workers.
This was time of uniform harshness. Men must learn their place. They lived on hands and knees.
Millions of weak men were force feminized. Some were clerks. Some waitrons.
Most sissies became maidservants.
Women’s first response to sissies was disgust. Imitation women seemed an insult to the superior gender.
The use of sissy males became a common study. Feminization shamed men. They became servile. Erased masculinity made them the most acceptable live-in servants.
Intense degradation keeps feminized men properly obsequious. Dignity in any male is offensive. Such presumption never goes unpunished.
Sissies should keep eyes downcast, head inclined. Posture, movement must reflect constant awareness of the slave’s inferiority.
Should a sissy address a woman incorrectly, he should be immediately slapped and kicked. Then taken to the Punishment Room for a more memorable reprimand.
Teachers encouraged women to use feminized men as mobile urinals. A popular idea. Soon women found it hard to believe that had not always pissed in men’s mouths.
Mistress Owner received strap-ons with accompanying videos. Many never bothered buying lubricant. They enjoyed sissies’ squeals.
Female supremacy encourages sociability. The superior sex is communitarian. Parties and celebrations are the norm on a supremely happy world.
Sissies serve women food and drink. Any Domme who wishes can grab a feminized waitron and make him the object of a torment game. Disinhibited by wine, Mistress Owners become ferociously cruel.
Living without respect or kindness, sissy males make the best slaves.
Mistress Owner & Sissy Slave’s Special Ceremony
Sissy Servant’s Almost Wedding
SexyLark aka Tasha Commissioned for Femdomocracy (paid for by Richard).
An important day in this feminized male’s life. He wears new stockings, freshly cut pink ribbons. His penis confined in an irremovable male chastity device.
Domme Owner leads him by the ceremonial Unbreakable Chain.
On this planet, one of the first laws enacted by the Matritopian Authority was the Dissolution of Marriage.
On the day of malekind’s enslavement, all heterosexual marriages became void. Products of patriarchy, they had no value in a society based on Female Supremacy.
The authority separated men into three classes: Artisans, Grunts and Sissies.
Artisans are skilled workers. They range from mechanics to perfumers, electricians to dressmakers.
Grunts supply muscle power. Their work is often harsh, demeaning and tedious.
Sissies undergo forced-feminization. Extensive, painful electrolysis sessions remove unwanted hair follicles. Sissies wear cosmetics and fragrance and often pink lingerie. Sissy males maintain their appearance. They take care to be free of body hair. To refresh makeup.
Their silly softness is their passport to living with a Mistress Owner.
Sissies cook and clean. If Mistress Owner’s girlfriend is away, sissies perform cunnilingus. The only sex they have. Other males do not have even this. Male orgasms are impermissible.
Good sissies earn life’s rarest treasure. Affection of women.
The most beloved sissy servants earn the Bond of Indenture. They, like all males, are slaves. The bond publicly recognizes a male as one who contributes to Mistress Owner’s happiness and pleasure.
The picture shows Mistress Owner and a sissy servitor at a Bonding ceremony. It is the closest act resembling marriage on the planet. Women do not wed. Marriage stemmed from masculine property rights. Now men are only property.
Bonding does not alter a sissy’s legal status. The ceremony celebrates the ideal male: one who needs to make Mistress Owner happy. A man whose every thought is to insure her comfort and joy.
Nude Male Problem: Demasculinization Clinics
Impotent & Gelded
Submissen
Gynosupremacy triumphed, women enslaved men. Simple words. They convey so much. Proper social evolution begins.
The inferior gender’s lives changed. Mandatory male nudity became the law, the first day the new Gynosupremacist Council met.
The original goal: to make sure men hid nothing from women. Back then men were untamed. Many did not accept female rule. Males required monitoring.
Subsequent generations of men never question their lesser status. Clothing prohibition remains.
Men, irrational creatures, are humbler when naked. Maleologists have theories. The average woman sees masculine inhibitions as proof males do not deserve freedom.
Naked male bodies disgusted women. The Council funded research to deal with the “Nude Man Problem.”
The result: a process of male demasculinization. Every town has at least one Male Demasculinization Clinic.
The picture shows a clinician working on a subject.
This is his last treatment. Most of his body hair vanished. The medicine in the bag destroys most hair follicles.
The tube prepares the penis for nullification. When treatment is complete, phallic sensation ceases. Erection becomes impossible.
The nurse taunts him. She will remove his scrotal sac.
Castratrices enjoy tormenting men. It is a privilege of the profession.
Two hours from now he returns to Mistress Owner’s home.
Smooth body, impotent penis, castration makes him a more valued slave.
Now she will take him to Torture Parties. No longer ashamed of him, she will let her friends torment her slave.
Shame of Force-feminization and Sissification
Shame of Sissies
Force-feminization, a means of humiliating men. Manhood lost, they ache with shame. Masochismo mocked. Disgusting masculinity repressed.
Masculinity is known only in history books. For over a thousand years men have been feminized.
Made to be mock women, faux females. Aesthetic crimes.
No matter what clothing he wears. No matter facial decoration. Men are men.
Here men are feminized to shame them for not being what they seemingly emulate. Dress does not turn man into woman.
The prettiest man is an inferior creation.
Whippings tear and rend flesh. Sissification produces more pain. Heart, soul, mind, whatever intangible qualities the lesser gender has. Inside he aches.
Women’s smiles are never kind. On holidays sissies wear the ugliest most garish clothes. Women grab them, shove their faces into mud and laugh at them.
Penises are forever imprisoned. Tease and denial is a popular recreation. Mistress Owners cultivate their slaves’ frustration. Men experience only ruined orgasms.
Men are freaks. Laughable, pathetic.
If women did not enjoy mocking them, men would not exist.
Forced-sissification Under World Matriarchy
Feminized Males Wear Punitive Brassieres
Matriarchy triumphed. A World Matriarchy replaced national governments. Nations ceased to exist.
The Matriarchal Council decided to outlaw and suppress masculinity. Men looked like ersatz females.
Men would wear deep pink clothing. Deep pink and black. Women avoided deep pink. They enjoyed wearing colors forbidden to men.
When outdoors Mistress Owners lead men by penis leashes. A sudden jerk concentrates male attention wonderfully.
Latex and leather conceal male bodies. Only eyes, mouth and genitals are visible. Men look less than human. Apt.
Mandated attire further objectifies males. Uniform clothing diminishes individuality.
Male brassieres resemble huge bullets. More than surgically enlarged breasts are within.
Thick shells contain points. The sharp points slide out stabbing male breasts. Mostly used for recreational cruelty than punishment.
The interior delivers electric shocks. Dommes often gather to watch a sissy’s punishment. He writhes on the sidewalk. Women laugh. Some kick him.
Hurting men is social. Even on public streets. Tormenting men is a duty and a delight.
Feminized, depersonalized and regularly punished (if only for the crime of being the wrong gender) the sissy slaves obey without demur.
Feminization Slave Males Under a Matriarchate
Life Without Women
Artist’s name?
On this Gynarchic world men have never been formally enslaved. However, masculinity is a crime. Men are forbidden boots and pants. Deviants, for example, men who wear trousers, receive severe punishment.
Proper men shave their bodies, wear cosmetics and strive to be pretty.
Men become slaves by begging. Slavery is irreversible. Slaves live longer, happier lives. Many males live in harems.
Properly feminized males, who for no fault of their own, do not win slavery, work for corporations and the Matriarchate. Sometimes a female executive takes pity. The fortunate male licks her shoes for a few minutes. Hoping to win this rare treasure, men are diligent, dedicated employees.
Unenslaved males are pariahs. These men live in slums. Life is grim. Their only employment is doing disgusting and demeaning tasks. Earning only a pittance, they enjoy no luxuries.
Since the Enforced Male Chastity Act, these least of men no longer even enjoy the pleasure of masturbation.
If such a man offends, his punishment is agonizing. Repeat offenders go to the Island of Scum. There, without technology or medicine, they eke out a miserable existence.
Repentance does not earn readmission to society. Exile is permanent.
The Matriarchate monitors the Island of Scum. Sometimes a loyal sissy slave needs a reminder of his good fortune to serve women.
He must watch streaming videos of exiled men. He sees their poverty and desperate hunger. But what makes him cry: there are no women anywhere.
Slavers Sell Sissies to Extraterrestrials
Sissy Males Sold to Aliens
The multi-hued woman of the Gynarchic Empire are the galaxy’s most successful slavers. Their starships are common sites on worlds ruled by women.
Their specialty: kidnapping men from patriarchal planets. They sell the men to Female Supremacist worlds in need of men. Most of the abducted men become labor slaves. Doomed to long years of sweat and drudgery.
The trade in feminized men is the most profitable specialty. Most of the sissies go to a nonhuman race. The entities buy thousands of sissy men with large breasts. No one knows the slave’s ultimate use or final fate.
The famous Matriarchs of Lyrane II buy men to replace the worthless males of their planet
Feminized for Sissy Slavery 