Can A Sissy Be A Family Man? free porn video

Joyce and I both spoke excitedly as we motored out of the city right after work on Friday. The traffic was slow but our happy chatter made the time pass easily. It had been weeks since we'd spent time at the woodland cabin, enjoying the mountain air and time spent with her family. Her mother, Gina and Daddy, as we both called Joyce's' father were into their sixties but still really vital and interesting. We were both filled with anticipation for the weekend we had planned.
Joyce wore a soft summer dress that clung to her full body and was very open at the neckline, all allowing me wonderfull scenery right here in our car. She was a plump little gal, fair haired like her mother but was broad built like her Italian bred father. Her ass was ripe like a pumpkin patch at harvest and her breasts were right out of dairy farm. After mothering three c***dren her GG udders demanded only sturdy full coverage bras and I could make out a scuplted lace beauty barely hiding beneath her dress's soft weave. There was no question how beautiful and magnificent she would look later clad only in her expensive plus size lingerie.
In our ten years of marriage she had born three k**s and her body only got richer and softer after each pregnancy. She had breast fed each c***d well into their second years and her naturally dark nipples were stretched and permanently distorted so they were like large concord g****s when she was aroused. She was the love of my life and quite seriously my best friend but I was overwhelmed by her beauty and full sized assets from the very first time we met.
She initially approached me during my third year at college. She was in a lower level accounting class getting the basics for her BA requirements, and she'd approached me for tutoring. Later I learned she had actually targeted me but at the time she told me someone had recommended me to her. Within a few weeks she was getting stellar grades in accounting and I was happily nursing at her large tits whenever she would allow me.
In fact she invited me to suckle at her breasts within a few days of us meeting but her finally allowing me to fuck her came a long time later. By the time she allowed me to mount her and then with her urging pound us both to a wonderous finish, I was well established as her full time panty boy. I was given frequent access to her breasts, hand jobs almost every time I suckled and was wearing her soiled underwear full time. After my classes I would come to her apartment and take care of all her household needs, and tutor her in her studies as she needed.
She was the decider in our relationship... but she was also a vigorous woman who enjoyed a good fucking on a regular basis. Once she'd allowed me that most intimate pleasure, it was and always has been an active part of our sex life. I am grateful that chastity or denial of affection have never been her means of punishing me. I have been spanked countless times and have experienced really severe whippings but I am always welcome back into her bed afterward
The first time she put me over her knee for a spanking was when I'd initially balked at eating my own cum. A sound thrashing with her hair brush on my panty covered butt left me standing in shame before her, bubbling tears and apologizing for having been insubordinate. "I know that you're sorry." Her face had been stern and determined, but not angry. "Now you need to show that you understand so I know it will never happen again."
She held me with a steady gaze then with an extended hand drew me to kneel between her legs where I had left my seed abandoned. My mouth went to her vagina and began licking the salty trickle that was coming from inside of her. At the press of my tongue to her glistening flesh she clenched her muscles and pushed a larger glob of my semen to the surface. I pressed in and slurped it up before it reached her anus. She had her hand at the back of my head holding me in place but her sweet voice urging me clean up all that warm salty cum that panty boys love to lick up. I responded with determination, my tonguing straining and delving as deeply as I could into her warm fuck hole, her labia and vaginal walls still softened by the assault of my cock. Her pussy was hot and dripping her sex juices as well as my own residue and there was much for a devoted submissive to feast upon.
Once I couldn't taste my semen anymore, I moved to lick and worship her clit until I brought her to a roaring orgasm. Joyce's hand clenched painfully in my scalp while her thighs were crushing my head in a vise and her cunt grinding forcefully against my mouth and chin. She lay back and relaxed but her hand continued to stroke my head and her voice though subdued, reminded me how much she loved her little panty boy.
Soon she rose on one arm and drew up next to her. She pulled me to her breast and fed me, cooing sweet baby talk to me as she did, her fingers gentle on my cheek and hair. It was years before her beautiful tits would really feed me milk but every time she'd let me latch on I was feasting on love and affection. After the emotion of the spanking and her rousing climax I was in a new level of heaven I'd not known before. I attached to her glorious nipple and took in all her voice and flesh would feed me. Her hand moved to my panties, her thumb smearing the laced satin with my fresh flow of precum. I had cum just a short time earlier but much had happened and my prick was rampant again.
Her sweet way of treating me always gets my arousal up but after the spanking and all that followed, my head and emotions were spinning. I felt helpless and emotionally dependent. was suddenly in a new place. I found myself in love with my wife in a new way, and more submissive than ever before. Like all passion that dependence will dissipate, but as a virgin submissive in the arms of my Goddess I was lost in Sub space.
She then laid me back on the bed and moved her face to my crotch. She tugged on the panties, setting my cock free and catching it in her mouth immediately. I watched as her sweet cherub face rode up and down my cock, her fingers stroking and teasing to enhance the pleasure. I groaned deeply as my pleasure rose quickly. Her fingers carressed from my asshole to swirl around my scrotum and then back. It didn't take much of that until my whole body pulsed with an orgasm and my cock expelled a second load of cum for the evening. Never hesitant to swallow, Joyce kept her mouth in place and accepted it all, her voice moaning her own pleasure that I'd cum.
She moved almost immediately to lie next to me and I saw her lips were pressed closed. Knowing what was coming, I leaned to her and kissed her, my tongue wrapping with hers so we could both share the load of semen I had ejected. Except for the times when we were trying to have c***dren, after that moment attempted to consume every bit of cum I ejaculated. I sucked it from panties she or I had masturbated my cock with, I sucked it from her fresh fucked cunt, and from her anus the few times I'd blown load there. My favorites were times like this first one - when she snowballed me, sharing the sex, the connection and affirming my submission to her.
I had grown up in a single parent home - my dad died before l knew him. I have his name and some resemblance I can see in photos but that's where any connection ends. By all accounts, when my father passed my mother pretty much had a break down. Today I don't know how she kept legal custody of me... she was unfit to care for herself, much less a c***d. In time she gathered her wits, found work and made a life for herself. That she had a son to also care for was mostly an annoyance. Do I have Mommy issues? Having the life I am lucky to enjoy with Joyce, I will proudly say that "I sure do."
I'm a good sized man, near six foot tall and too many burgers over two hundred and twenty five pound. I've never been athletic so that leaves soft and pudgy for a guy of my build. I have sandy colored hair and Ron Howard freckles. What hair I have... it's always been thin and wispy, is mostly limited to my head. My body hair is more like a downy fuzz. Joyce says my shape, sweet face and gentle manners make me a natural to draw her hungry eye... that I was so obviously a submissive wimp really tempted her. Both my solid track to a successful accounting career and her discovery that I was sporting a healthy eight inch cock were nails in the coffin of her Single woman status. That decided, it was just a matter for her agile young mind to draw me in.
She told me all this on the night I graduated from the university and was to begin my stint at post-grad. At this point we'd been together for nearly two years and our lives were thoroughly entwined. She had invited me over promising a special night as a celebration of my graduation. She met me at the door, drawing my head immediately down to hers for a passionate kiss. I hadn't had time to notice her clothing but in the course of our embrace my touch told me she was wearing just a loose sweater that advertised her heavy breasts were swinging free and sweat pants over what was already a wonderfully full backside, not yet bloated by maturity and motherhood.
She then led me to the couch, pushing me to kneel on the floor as I began to set down beside her. Immediately compliant, I settled onto my haunches and looked expectantly into my Goddess eyes, eager for whatever she might have in store. I basked in the smile that shown down on me and sensed a certain angle to her brow that warned tonight was not about champagne or pheasant under glass.
I was spanked a lot that night, and well into the weekend. Certainly more than I'd received in such a short time before. My ass stayed tender for days afterward but I took it all with pride.
That night Joyce totally feminized me. Full body hair removal, crazy glam queen makeup, dangling rhinestone earrings, and polish on fingers and toes. There was much fidgeting and discomfort as all this took place and so I earned frequent strokes across Joyce's knee. As usual she used her heavy hair brush, but tonight it was applied across my naked ass. Eventually she got me into a garter belt with pink fishnet stockings, and a red babydoll nightie that only covered my privates when I stood still. My cock spent a lot of time erect and leaking precum, most of which she caught with her finger and fed to me with cooing comments of "yummy cummies for Momma's sissy". Turbid status aside, Joyce was able to corral my member into a light harness that include a ribbon around my waist and decorated my penis with a mocking covering of large white daisys. She slipped my feet into a pair of white patent leather mules with a squared two inch tall heel.
She posed me in front of her full length mirror as she finished the ensemble with a bob wig of platinum blonde hair. Her smile was radiant as she looked back at me in our reflection.
"This is a special night for you, sweetie." she explained. "There's no way to make a man feel special like I can make a little sissy feel special." She reached down and gave my penis a quick squeeze. "I've always babied you... and I still will, but there are special times when I need to be a little more mature. Like this, you can do even more for me and I can more for you" Joyce smiled warmly and pinched my cheek, squinting her eyes in earnest, "You are S O O O cute!!"
"A blow job and a fuck seem like every day stuff so this is a much better way to go." She gestured toward the looking glass, at our images. "don't you look and feel very special right now? Like the bestest little sissy ever?"
Looking at myself, I thought the makeup was a tad over the top, but overall I did like what I saw. I turned stiffly, not sure how to move or carry myself and nodded my head, answering"Thank you, Mommy! I do feel special." My voice cracking with nerves.
"Ok, good. We'll go get some cake and ice cream in a minute but first we have to take care of the leaking cummies, don't we?" She led me back to her makeup table, gesturing for me stand as she took her seat. With her left hand she reached beneath my nightie and began fingering up and down the bulk of my penis, easily available despite the facade of the flowery cover.
On that night she introduced a new game, fingering my cock while mildly spanking my butt cheeks with the hair brush. With my Mommy's voice and fingers urging me and the spanking just enough to touch my nerves it was less than a minute before Joyce was catching my cream in her cupped hand. The orgasm made it feel natural to sink to my knees as a response, taking Joyce's hand to lick up my ejaculate was just as easy.
Later as we sat at the table, eating cake and ice cream, she shared how she'd first noticed me and thought I was so cute. She asked around about me and learned enough to think she'd like to take a chance and meet me. She said with a genuine smile that she considered herself so lucky to have me as her man and hoped I felt the same about her. At that point, my Mommy moved to kneel between my stocking legs. She carefully removed my flowery cock cover and then proceeded to give me a long wonderful blow job.
As she snowballed my cum back to me in a kiss, her fingers rolled and tweaked my small nipples. With my little titties making me squirm in my feminized and submissive state of mind, tasting the salty punk of semen with the blend of perfume and lipstick introduced me to the magic feeling of being a sissy cum slut.
Once I was finishing up grad school and had a solid offer from a blue chip firm, I asked Joyce to marry me. When I proposed it was after she opened a gold wrapped gift box. Inside was an engagement ring hung from a pink ribbon tying it to a twelve inch strap on dildo with it's plus sized leather harness.
For the ceremony my tux was powder blue but beneath I wore a corset, stockings and lace panties that were pure white. We wore our wedding attire from the church, through the three hour reception, and all the way to our honeymoon suite. There, after a long embrace and soulful kiss I fell to my knees, raised Joyce's wedding gown and took her rubber cock into my mouth. That wedding night I was the virgin, eager to give myself to my betrothed.
I've been happy for all these years. From the beginning, for the right sort of pervert, it could be said I had the unicorn wife. How was I to know that with every year, my life was going to get even hotter.
Our first Christmas together she dressed me as a fat Christmas sissy... a white tutu, red stockings and garter belt with a red and green corset pushing out my perky man tits. The first presents she had me open were an inflatable butt plug and a vibrating cock ring with a wireless remote. The next larger box was a pair of shoes that laced on like ballet slippers but were mounted on a four inch platform. I spent that holiday as happy as I could be with my wife's love filling my ass to capacity as I tottered around on the platform shoes, feeling very feminine and vulnerable as I endeavored to wait on her hand and foot.
In later years with c***dren around the house, we had to be more discreet. On special dates I would put on a sissy outfit that Joyce had laid out for me the night before while she put the c***dren to bed. She allowed me time to prepare, knowing I would want my makeup to be perfect.When she came to me I would then be chained on my knees and d****d across a padded footstool, my face pointed toward a large mirror. My mouth would be gagged with soiled panties or even my own cotton jockeys. I would spend the next twelve hours in a sissy trance, alternating between my bare ass being spanked and my pussy being pounded by Joyce and her large rubber cock. She always left the light on so even if she was resting I could exam my own pathetic state. Several times through the night she would wipe my face clean and then freshen up my makeup, insisting a girl always wants to look her best. The vision of her beauty and pleasure as she ass fucked me and rode her own successive orgasm was more magnificent that my word can describe. Her orgasms would be countless and frankly I never knew a male could cum so often as the number my Goddess could draw from me on those nights.

chapter two
My name is Daniel Gorsuch, though most just call me Dan. I'm a low key nerdy guy, nothing to look at and probably pretty dry for conversation. I was at best an academic at school, losing myself in my studies to avoid real human interaction. Today, I am a accounting executive, happily married to my college sweetheart, Joyce. She's the mother of my three c***dren, the love of my life and the Goddess who owns and controls everything about me. I am spanked nearly every day before I leave for work, eat my cum every time I ejaculate... which is also daily, and I live as feminized as my profession and life as a middle class PTA member will allow. Not because I'm gay or have any ambition to be a woman, but because I'm thoroughly submissive to my wife. She insists her man is just a sissy wimp and has determined I shall live that truth at every turn. For her part, she loves me, treats me like treasure and keeps my head spinning in devotion to her and her twisted games... while frequently humiliating me and reminding me how weak I am.
"Why am I a wimp?" is a question I can only guess at the answer. Nature or Nurture? Dr Phil said, "no matter how thin the pancake, it always has two sides." Consciously, I assert that blame falls heavily on Amanda Gorsuch, my harsh unloving mother who never praised, instead only tolerated or punished. But it could well be that I'm just genetically predisposed to defer to power. As a k** I felt unlovable, unworthy. Away from the house, I was always awkward, uncomfortable around others. My weakness evident, I was persistently bullied all through grades six to eight. I've been pummeled, mocked and scorned, called sissy and wussy - and always powerless to stand up for myself. I've seen girls nearby look disgusted at my weakness as I cower and cry, furthering my humiliation.
Later on, the summer I was f******n I thought I might have a girlfriend. Her name was Anne and she was tall and slim with dark naturally curly hair. We were neighborhood friends, sneaking cigarettes and hanging out on hot summer nights. Writhing on the inside, I was nonchalant on the surface when I asked her to the movie and was over joyed when she accepted. I think now back how my pathetic reaction in the dark theater was to cling to her like a rescued kitten. A girlfriend of hers had tagged along and all these years later I remember my humiliation when I saw Anne roll her eyes at her buddy about my pathetic disposition.
It was the odds of a lightening strike that I am married to such a glorious woman, who not only loves me as I am but capitalizes on my pathetic condition. Joyce has led me along in steps, definitely showing her own patience and long term commitment to me as a project. She later told me that some of the slow pacing was due to her own inexperience; she knew in concept what she was doing with me but as a girl in her first years of college, she was still a novice. She confided that she never questioned her selection of me as her submissive but she also didn't want to screw it up.
Raising a family has seriously curtailed our free flowing ways but she will still find a way for us to have special nights. When we get those breaks, Joyce will adorn me to seem as a submissive babydoll with Madam Divine eye makeup over a powdered pale face, my cheeks marked by bright red blush. I have amassed a generous wardrobe of short frilly nighties, bobby sox and knee hi stockings and bulky tall heel shoes that Joyce will mix and match, creating a different look for the season or holiday.
Her dressing me as a her soft sissy babydoll began before we were married but has progressed over time.Our first Christmas after we were married she turned me into a sissy ballerina with a white tutu and platformed ballet slippers. The slippers and an inflatable butt plug were gift wrapped under the tree. Another year I was a Christmas elf with white fur trim, bunny ears and a white cottontail, just like a Playmate. That night my cock was caged and my only direct sexual outlet was the pleasure of her cock in my ass. With a vibrator at hand, I was on my back and took my lover like a true woman would, having my own vibe induced climaxes as Joyce pounded my wimp pussy with her cock. A favorite outfit for us both is for me to be a little Easter sissy with an all pink ensemble of a babydoll nightie, sheer chiffon panties, knee high stockings with a bow at the top and short white gloves of lace. Joyce said she loves seeing my lace covered fingers massaging her cock before taking it into my mouth. With a blend of pain and forced orgasms she has trained me to love that rubber phallus as much as I do her pussy.
Joyce's parents are a welcome part of our lives but live a good ways up the coast, the distance creating a nice buffer zone. We are close but not in each others lives daily. Her mother Gina and her dad, Boyd had always lived near the navy port but they also kept a nice cabin up in the hills to get away from the city and summer heat. We were clearly welcome and often setup weekends to go there. It's a long drive but I've been glad to make the trip; her folks always made me feel welcome and as a part of the family. That was something I'd not known in my own life.
The cabin was of traditional log construction and was like a mountain lodge but scaled down. A large walk through kitchen and great room were the central core. Two bedrooms suites with private baths were in the wing off the east side, and the west flank was a large roofed-over patio with a hot tub and built in outdoor kitchen. There was lots of facilities but as our k**s grew that patio became a de facto bunk house because of the limited private space. There weren't any majestic views, it was just a quiet serene oasis in the mountain forest where we all could gather.
Boyd was known for his hairy chested hugs, Gina for a slim quiet elegance with everything perfect and beautiful. Boyd was generous with a laugh and a beer, Gina was reserved with mysterious eyes. I had told Joyce about some of the steaming looks I'd received from her mother and her reaction had been to laugh, "of course, silly. She likes you. Let it go at that." She still chuckled as she turned back to what she'd been doing at the time. Other times, there would be visits when Gina would be cordial but I would catch dark looks of condemnation. Those glares I also mentioned to Joyce and she laughed out loud, her heavy breasts jiggling along, "oh, Sissy! She is just messing with you, I am sure. I tell you, she really does like you." Those times I didn't find much reassurance in her words.
Anticipation made it seem like going to the cabin was a real journey but that was always over stated. With clear roads we can make it in just a little over two hours. It was to be a long weekend so with all our bags I made several trips back and forth from the car, moving us into the cabin's second bedroom. By the time I'd set the last bags down, Joyce was settled onto the pillows of the bed, loosening her still full breasts from the restraint of her bra. On this trip our youngest k** was finally done breast feeding, so we were able to leave all three c***dren behind. Joyce's breasts might still have some fullness and as her resident baby, I was looking forward to draining them dry. For now, I was stymied for even a small taste as Gina was there as well. Joyce's mother hovered about, no doubt eager for time to catch up with Joyce. Acknowledging this as "woman time", I excused myself and went in search of Joyce's father.
The sun was down by the time we arrived at the cabin and got all settled in. Leaving the bedroom, I arced through the quiet space with it's open log structure, rich wood tones and deep shadows of night time. I went first to the kitchen which I knew as well as ours at home. There I made myself a quick K cup of dark roast coffee and doused it with some milk. Holding the warm mug between two hands I moved to the living room, expecting Joyce's dad would be catching network news or something on ESPN.
Instead, I found Boyd leaning on the mantle of the large stone fireplace, studying photos from his time in the Navy. I knew he'd done several tours on the flight deck of a carrier, and that he'd met Gina - at the time a nurse in the ships infirmary, when he'd been injured by the crash of a plane attempting to land.
Speaking with enthusiasm, Boyd pointed a thick rough finger toward a photo of himself and his Navy crew, taken a lifetime ago when Boyd and all the men in the group were young. There were eight men in the shot, Boyd was one of the four standing and the other four were crouching in the foreground. Boyd's good humor shone through in the photo, even in his youth the same wide infectious grin was there, the same smile I saw as I studied his now aged and weathered features. I looked back to the photo, quickly glancing over the faces of strangers, young clean cut men in blue uniforms. Groomed by the military as just young men, a blank slate, I wondered what sort of lives they had gone onto after life on the carrier. Thinking of the regimentation of military life, I couldn't imagine it being the crazy barrel ride in the rapids that I'd been on for these many years.
"Those were great guys... we had some times, you can be sure." As if reading my thoughts, Boyd had piped in, his bushy brows wagging suggestively to the reference of some wilder activities.
He backed away from the mantle, slapping his broad hands together with glee as he moved to sit down on the large couch. We moved across the wood slab floor, hewn beams casting angled shadows from the s**ttered track lights, enhancing the sense of space. The overstuffed leather sofa took Boyd's heft with lots of room to spare. Like everything else here, this sofa was about a large group, a family. I joined him, taking a sip from my coffee before setting it on the coffee table cut from a broad slab of timber.
As we sat, I learned he'd just gotten word that day that some of his former ship mates were hoping to get together. "I don't know if I can swing it, but it'd be great if they'd come up here for a few days," Boyd began. "Ricky will have to bring that big motorhome of his. I think I can squeeze a couple of them into the cabin on the next lot... the owner might let us use it if it's just for a short stay."
Boyd was clearly caught up in his ideas when his eyes suddenly snapped to me and his face dropped. And then his hands went up in a gesture of helplessness, something I've come to recognize as part of Boyd's Italian background. If his mouth was talking, his large hands were certainly in motion as well. He turned to me and reached out his hand as he rose to his feet.
"Come here, boy. Give Daddy a hug!" I hesitated only a fraction but rose to my feet and allowed the broad built man to draw me in. Perhaps it was fatigue from a long day but his strong arms drawing me to the warm mass of his chest felt good. Another time I might have thought the hug lingered a little long and Boyd's embrace held me closer and more tightly than I'd have otherwise entertained, but for this moment it felt fine to let him draw me in and hold me to his chest. His hands didn't clap my back, as he might have on previous occasions, and instead I felt his hands seem to grip me to him.
His voice was gravely, his mouth not far from my ear, "I got too wrapped up in my news... this visit is about us." He held me close and as I just began to think, "ok, enough", Boyd release his grip and pulled away but his hand rested on the swell of my bicep, his fingers again holding firm.
"We're proud of Joyce, and we're very proud of you, Danny." Boyd's voice was rich with praise "You have devoted yourself to giving my girl a wonderful life, you have three beautiful babies and I know she loves you to death."
Boyd maintained his cordial grasp on my upper arm and drew me down to set next to him as he dropped back to the couch. "And Hey... I love you, Danny. I think you're really a sweet k**. I can see why Joyce took a fancy to you. But Gina has been over the moon about you. That woman never took to any of the boys Joyce had brought around but from the beginning, you were different. I don't know if a mother in law can have love at first sight for a son in law but I think she did for you." Boyd's head bobbed as if to affirm the statement as set in stone.
I sat humbled, sheepish - even embarrassed, as I struggled for words to properly respond to such praise. I certainly never would have guessed my mother in law held me in that high regard. Finally, I raised my head and looked back at Boyd and responded honestly, "I love you too, Boyd. You guys make me feel like a part of a real family. That's something I've never had before."
I guess it was the fatigue factor again but emotion caught me suddenly and my voice actually cracked a bit and tears flooded my eyes. I heard Boyd breath a deep sigh and his warm arms wrapped me up again, this time his hand went to the back of my head and cradled my face to his warm neck. I wasn't wracked with sobs or even actively crying but the emotion had welled up and Boyd's generous warm embrace was wonderful. I smelled his salty skin, some of his sweat. His bristling chest hair came up from his shirt collar and was a rich brillo texture that caressed my cheek. I was warm and safe and loved, welcomed to a home, and a family. Boyd's body, his smell and warmth made that loving concept take form as a living being.
We both pulled away with a soft exhalation. His embrace had calmed me and my teary rush of emotion had been converted to a warm comfort from his presence. Boyd squeezed my arm again and I looked into his grey eyes and found confidence and security. I lowered my gaze and nodded, accepting his affections.
We heard a door close in the far side of the house and Boyd raised his head, "That must be Gina. I guess I am going to turn in early, too." We both rose and entered the hall together, me turning aside to the first door where Joyce and I were sleeping. Boyd moved on to his door, turned his head and gave me a nod as he opened his door and slipped inside.
I moved into the shadows of our room, my eyes struggled to adjust and take in the details. Joyce was set back against the pillows, as she had been earlier, only now her torso was bare and her heavy milk swollen breasts hung free. Her large nipples looked distorted and I could see milk was slowly dripping from them. She smiled at me, knowing I realized she'd been milking herself, getting her nipples flowing for her baby to nurse.
My eyes continued to adjust and now realized there were garments laid out for me. The red nightgown I'd worn on my graduation night was there on the bed, laid out with white knee high stockings and a large pair of sheer chiffon panties, also white in color. I moved forward into the room and saw the red shoes, all glitter with stocky 2" heels. They were reminiscent of Dorothy's ruby slippers... but were covered in glitter and had satin bows on the toes. I tried to not react when I saw Joyce's electric stimulator lay at hand on the night stand.
I took a deep breath, realizing the night was going to be interesting. I was going to be tormented by the probe shocking my very tender areas, my cries of pain muffled by the heaven of Joyce's breasts where my face would be buried. I would know anguish, but my Goddess would be there to offer the sweetest milk as a remedy for all that might make a baby cry.
She pointed toward the bathroom, "Shower first. And I need to see that your makeup is perfect before I let you near my tits." Her voice was immediately biting but as quickly softened when she wagged her fingers to sweep me along, "Hurry now, little wimp. I've been keeping your place warm."
Whether with her voice or her eyes, Joyce could always whiplash me with her swings in tone. Fire meets honey, passion meets desperation. So ingrained in my training, my mind all ready pulled into her baby wimp subspace, I rose on tiptoes and short stepped to the bed where I swept the soft lingerie and shoes into my arms, then I minced my way to bathroom as if I all ready had the tall heeled shoes on my feet.
I hurried through the maintenance shave of all my torso and body hair, but took time to finger and grope my ass, being sure I was clean and really ready for anything. Joyce had an evil streak and loved to catch me off guard.
After these years I was well practiced with cosmetics and my face makeup was a well practiced drill. I adorned myself with a pale powdered doll face, large rosy circles of blush on my cheeks, and fake eyelashes endearing large overly colorfull eye shadow. I pushed my toes into each shoe, and stood to my heeled height of 6'1". I spritzed generously with perfume, took a deep breath and checked myself in the mirror. I lifted my very immodest hem and twisted back and forth, inspecting my look and taking a moment to savor my transformation. The red lace and ruffled nightgown had always been perfect, hanging just a couple inches below my narrow hip, broad cut at the shoulder and chest so it hung very relaxed and flowed when I moved. My fat boy man tits even managed to poke out the thin fabric and I thought made me look very sissy. The chiffon panties were just a transparent tent, plainly showing my equipment and allowing Joyce a ready gauge of my arousal at any given time.
I pondered what lie beyond the door. This would be a wonderful night, I was sure. I was disappointed that we didn't have the privacy for a good spanking to start out with, but they can be so noisy. I mildly hoped Joyce jolted me with the "stinger" a time or two before I got to settled in at her tit. I'd hate to cum at the first zap.
I took a last turn before the mirror, lifting my leg in a coquettish way.... not a baby like gesture but an action I sometimes found irresistible as I admired my feminine self. I squared up, fluffed my hem again and opened the door.
The bedroom I stepped into, my red shoes clicking on the natural wood floor and my babydoll nightie swinging nicely as I minced my way happily toward the bed just a few step away, was changed from the quiet haven I'd left only a short time ago. Now the lights were all ablaze, Joyce was sitting in the middle of the smoothly made bed and she wore the same pullover top she'd had on for the trip up from the city. Also in the room were Boyd and a woman I struggled to recognize as Gina.

chapter 3

Joyce left the bed and moved to stand beside me, her hand resting on my bare shoulder. She looked into my eyes and spoke, "I'm sorry, Honey. I just had to get some help. I didn't know who else to call." She turned to the older man and woman standing in the room, making a sweeping motion with her hand as if I was on display. "Amanda, this is why I called you. This is what your son has become." Joyce look sad and took a step away from me. "I just don't know what to do any more."
Gina, apparently stepping in as my mother, moved sharply across the room, her stilettos sounding on the wood surface. Her hair was dark and fashioned in something of a beehive, her glasses large on her face, her clothes tailored and chic. She certainly had the costuming right. I drew back on my heels as the scent of her overly applied cologne assaulted me. Chanel Number Five had been my mother's signature scent and it lingers unpleasantly in my memory. This woman reeked of it.
To say my head was spinning is being modest. My humiliation and feelings of guilt were piling on, crushing me beyond any playtime fantasies of being less than a man. A part of me knew this had to be a setup, one glorious bit of stagecraft but I was all ready into a level of my subspace when I went into the bath. When I came out I knew it was into the wicked maelstrom of my life as Joyce's puppet.
"Daniel, what have you done to yourself?!" Amanda demanded sharply. She stood before me, her face grim, angry. She turned and spoke to Boyd, who was now dressed in a gray suit, white shirt and tie. "Officer Bush, have you seen anything like this? What am I seeing? Can my boy be cured?" Her words were sharp, her tone aggressive. She turned back to me with a glare. "You've always been a disappointment but this is so far out of line, I feel like I don't even know my own son."
Unexpectedly, Amanda reached out, her right hand slapping my face. With that blow to my face my fragile demeanor cracked and I began to silently weep. Boyd.... Officer Bush stepped up next to Amanda, his eyes examining me as his deep voice filled the suite. "Mrs Gorsuch, that's not useful. We know your frustrated by what you see, but some things just can't be fixed."
He turned to Joyce, "Does he have a sissy name for himself?" he queried.
At the word "sissy" Amanda broke into tears and turned away, her voice cracking. "A sissy? It can't be true." She sobbed into her hands as she let her weight onto the bed. She turned her teary eyes to me, "Daniel, how can you do this to me? I am so ashamed." She wailed and then let her face fall into her hands.
Joyce looked askance at Amanda and then turned to Officer Bush, "He likes Dani... you know, with an "i" on the end. It's more girly, he said." She looked then to me, her eyes askance and then moved to the bed, putting her arm over Amanda's shaking shoulders. "He only does this at home, in private with me. You have nothing to worry about, Amanda. No one else knows about this."
Joyce directed her gaze at me, her sissy husband weeping in front of his accusers, "See how this does affect other people? We love you, Daniel but it's hard to love this strangeness we don't understand."
Officer Boyd spoke up, his hand on my arm, "Oh I understand and it's not so strange. I've just never seen such a developed sissy that had so much going for him otherwise." He gestured to Joyce, "You are obviously a beautiful and loving woman, I understand Daniel has a good career, and you two are blessed with three c***dren. He has so much to be proud of but still needs to express his weakness and frailty."
Officer Bush looked at me with scrutiny, as if examining a microbe under a microscope. "He's spent a lot of time developing this. I see his makeup is very well applied, his outfit is actually all a match. He even moves well for being a large heavy man on those shoes."
I felt crushed, ashamed... so very caught out. My own stress and terror were strong enough that I didn't even think to perceive that Joyce had betrayed me. I really couldn't have taken that in... it would make this nightmare all the more real.
Amanda spoke from the bed, "You have seen this before? Look at him. I think he's even trying to grow breasts. He's got those little girl titties like he's had shots or something"
Officer Bush turned his broad torso and looked at Amanda, nodding affirmation to her question, "Yeah, he's a fat boy." His broad hand hand reached out and pinched my hard nipple, giving it a twist and drawing a gasp from me. I clutched my hand over my sore tit when he released his hold, hunching my shoulders to ward off further assaults.
Officer Bush gave a low chuckle, "She's a perfect choice for those that like this sort of thing. Chubby c***dlike features, a soft feminine feeling body, even naturally occurring breast growth." His hand reached to the back of my neck and drew my head back, opening my posture and allowing him to reach within my defenses and grasp the other tit, torturing it in a similar manner. As he tormented me, he went on talking about me like an object of scrutiny or lab a****l, "Certainly, in our prisons and isolated military units this sort of feminization pops up frequently. In a hyper masculine setting, some of the most submissive types will retreat to this sort of identity. This display announces weakness, so Alpha's know immediately he isn't a threat and in fact could be highly amenable to intimate advances. In best case, one will take him in as a surrogate female and protect him as a mate or lover. Well that's not quite right. Sissy lovers are really just toys, slaves. They retreat to total submission as they seek comfort and security."
By the time he had finished, I was now bent forward, both hands cradling my sore tits which were feeling bitterly twisted inside the gossamer shield of my nightie. He turned and looked sharply at Joyce, his eyes piercing, "There are professionally dominate women who can get this sort of result but our Dani would have spent thousands of dollars and many hours of devotion for her to have coached her to this point. Is that possible?"
Still on the edge of the bed, comforting Amanda, Joyce responded with wide eyed disbelief, shaking her head earnestly, "No no no not my Daniel. He's home on time every night, no evening hours or men's clubs, no expense accounts. I can swear he hasn't time or opportunity for anything like that."
She looked directly at me with a cute little pout to her lip, "Sweetie, the detective says you're very good at this. I know you are so smart. You figured all this out yourself! I guess you are a natural born sissy."
She turned her face to Officer Boyd. "What do I do? I love him so much and he does take very good care of us." She gestured toward me with a finger, "But I want a man to love me... I don't need another baby to take care of." She gathered her arms across her breasts, as if barring me from them.
The big man shoved my shoulder as I still favored my sore nipples and that caused me to stagger on my feet. "See, he's so disabled by fear by now, he can't speak, he can barely stand. He certainly doesn't defend himself." He turned to the women sitting on the bed and threw up his hands, "He's a sissy. That's what you get."
He turned squarely to me and with a finger under my chin forced me to look at him. "We're going down the hall for a chat. You, me and your mother are going to sort this out. Your dear wife is at a loss and while she worries for you, she has entrusted you to us to try and help you."
With a firm hand he took my upper arm and steered me toward the door, not going too fast for me to keep up in my awkward shoes but making it clear he wouldn't take "NO" for an answer. Amanda rose to follow, her heels and mine clicking loudly on the wood floors.
Outside the room, moving down the hallway, Amanda stepped up, her cologne like an aura of insult that assailed me before her voice hissed threateningly into my ear, "You disgust me, Daniel. I've got a cane I'm going to thrash your backside with. I'll make sure you're sorry any of this even came into your twisted little mind." I looked side ways at her, the large hair and oversize spectacles making her seem unreal and menacing.
Her threat shuddered through me and I gasped a sob in response. Officer Bush jerked my arm, "Man up, boy. This woman isn't going to do anything to you like she thinks she is but I am going to let her get some licks in. You've disappointed and insulted your mother and I'm a believer in consequences. You are going to get what you have coming to you."
We moved into the larger master bedroom and Officer Bush led me to the center of the space and told me to stand there. He then moved set on the edge of the large bed. Amanda had moved quickly to what looked like a hard case for a custom pool cue but from inside she removed a limber cane of slim bamboo. Whipping it through the air so that the thin lash made a threatening sound. In response, Officer Boyd stood up quickly and moved to intercept the woman and her wicked intent.
"Now, Mrs. Gorsuch. We can't approach this problem like that. You are not going to be able to beat this out of your son." He put his strong hand on her arm, holding fast as she tried to pull free. I cowered at her gaze, so furious was the look in her eye.
"That little shit! I gave him life, sacrificed to give him a home and this humiliation is what I get in return? I'm going to have a piece of his hide!" She seemed to spit her words at me and she renewed her efforts to pull free, lunging at me with the lash raised high.
The detective wrapped his arms around her, securing her until she relented and stopped trying to break away. He allowed her a concession after she settled down and her breathing steadied. "I can see you are bent on punishment. I know it won't solve a thing but if it will calm you down I'll allow you a couple of licks with your little toy."
Everyone stopped, holding their breath until Amanda nodded her assent to the compromise. She and Officer Bush seemed to breath easier but I was not soothed. This all was so outside my comfort zone, but anything from Amanda and that slim whip of bamboo was going to be bad news for me.
Boyd turned from Amanda and looked at me, standing alone and on the brink of terror. He then turned to Amanda and nodded his head in my direction, "Look at your little sissy's package in those pretty panties. He's terrified of you."
The fact was that my cock had been erect and leaking precum since shortly after I'd left the bathroom and my nightmare had begun to unfold. Amanda's early slap to the face had almost brought a spurt of terror from my organ then, instead I'd been grateful to keep my display to tears and crying in shame. The ongoing humiliation and the high expectation of pain were triggering my conditioned responses and I'd felt the chill of precum inside my panties for some time now.
Seeing my state after Officer Bush had directed her gaze, Amanda gasped aloud. "That's so disgusting!"
She turned to Officer Bush, her eyes furious again. "That is the most vile thing I've seen. I won't stand for this!" And with renewed fury she tried to charge free of the larger man's embrace, her one arm holding the cane thrashing at the air between us. Behind the lenses of her glasses I saw her eyes were wide with anger. I had known that kind of rage years ago and even as an adult she intimidated me.
The detective held fast, allowing the woman in his arms to kick and thrash, wearing herself out. He looked at me, his gaze steady, "Your wife beats you, doesn't she? She has all along, isn't that right?" His mouth showed a smirk, accusing me of weakness. I looked away, unable to acknowledge his truth.
"She's all ready tried to whip this out of you, hasn't she?" Officer Bush waited for my response and when came, he barked out with authority, " Sissy boy, I'm talking to you!"
I looked into his face and knew I had to respond. I slowly nodded my head, the only communication I was capable of in my state. Amanda pulled away so she could twist her face and look to the detective for some sort of confirmation that what she heard was correct. She turned to look at my face and then quickly returned her attention to the man holding her fast. Officer Bush met her gaze and nodded his head toward me.
"That's a conditioned response, Mrs Gorsuch. I am guessing that she has tried for years to beat this devil out of her man and it hasn't worked. Go back and talk to her about it. I am sure this sissy has orgasmed during those beatings." He turned his gaze back to me, his eyes steely and accusing, then his glinted and his expression took on a challenging leer.
"I'm going to let this demon go and she's going to tear into your ass, little girl. I don't think you'll be able to get over here before you are squirting cum all over those pretty panties."
At that, Amanda broke free and darted toward me, the cane reaching out as soon as she was in reach. I stumbled in my red glittering high heels, vainly trying to lunge to sanctuary. Though I wanted to spring like an Olympian in the 100 meters, my feet felt like lead and my heavy body was never more thick and burdensome. Amanda was probably one hundred pounds lighter and accustomed to years of wearing shoes like she had on tonight. Our paths had to intersect and in a blink she out flanked my sprint for freedom. Her hand with the limber cane struck with a rapid barrage. Her lash caught my arm, then across my shoulders and moved down as I passed. More than one stripe was laid across my back and fleshy thighs - all of her blows feeling like pure fire.
Sissy or not, I was torn with welts of pain before I reached the warmth of the large's man chest. Maybe it was just that, feeling his arms close around me, perhaps it was the last and hardest strike Amanda got in. I felt his bulk take my momentum as I launched myself into his embrace and for a microsecond imagined I was in the clear. It was exactly then that Amanda's evil weapon struck with full force across my pantied backside, scorching a streak of fire where it fell. It caused me to arch my back and squeal in alarm, my whole body convulsing against his grey suited form. The spasms rippled through me and my erect penis pulsed between us, my emotionally charged load ejecting to form a large smear in my sheer nightie and onto the front of Officer Bush's grey trousers.
Officer Bush's chest rumbled quickly with quiet laughter. At the same moment, like we were dance partners, he spun us around shielding me from Amanda's onslaught.
He held out a hand, palm facing out like a cop stopping traffic, "Enough!" Amanda pulled up short, her arm frozen with the cane held high and poised to strike again. The man continued, his voice authoritative, "You've made your point."
He separated from me displaying the globs of semen that clung to the ruffled hem of my nightie and that had spread onto the front of his business suit. I stood lamely on my glittering heels, my knees shaking as I struggled to stay upright. The intensity of the experience had drained me of spunk and spirit.
Amanda stopped short and a sneer spread across her face as she saw the pathetic state of her son. She lowered her arm and stepped back slowly. Her eyes locked onto me, the fire in her eyes forcing me to look away. I could not meet her gaze but I felt the spite in her words, "You disgust me. I don't know what the hell you've become but I've washed my hands of you."
I heard her say, "He's all yours, officer. I'm done with him."
Officer Bush's arms moved, he stepped behind me and I felt my hands drawn to him. Without resistance or reaction I felt handcuffs fastened around my wrists. There was nothing to react to... my submission and weakness were laid open for the world to see. There was no fight left in me.
On the inside I felt hope. The restraints were a sign of him staking a claim... at least for this moment, I was his and the banshee with the bamboo cane wouldn't be a threat anymore. We were all silent as she restored the cane to it's carrying case and left the room, her heels echoing as she moved into the hallway and the fading scent of Chanel Number Five signaling her departure.
I stood up a little straighter but I was still lost in subspace and this large man seemed to be the rock I was meant to cling to. Afraid to move and unable to speak, like a magnetic pointer I was drawn to look into his eyes for any sort of answer. He was stone. His eyes were not giving me anything. I read no threat nor promise. I waited and when he did not react, I lowered my eyes and waited.
The older man remained silent, I suspect taking my measure and allowing my emotions to settle a bit. Time passed, and the silence started to hang heavy. Was it even five minutes? I doubt it but guilt and fear were eating at me and the longer the inaction continued the further adrift I felt. Amanda's assault, as such pain will do had sent me soaring. By now my instincts were leading me to seek either the next launch to a dizzy height or look for the safe route back to Earth. Dressed as I was, I was certainly still feeling so caught out and overtly vulnerable if only because of my delicate garments. Restrained with my hands behind my back, I felt as if nothing was assured.
Again I raised my eyes to look at the man who physically wouldn't have much advantage but to me he was a titan that held all the power. I looked into the brown eyes I had trusted for years and had come to love. I tried to peer into their black centers, seeking some sort of redemption.
The crack in the ice that I was desperate for was just a downward gesture with his eyes that then returned to bore into mine. I blinked my eyes slowly in silent acknowledgement and let me knees sink, putting my face level with his paunched belly. Before me was the bottom of his suit jacket and the waist of his trousers, both grey synthetic with splatter art left by my cum. Still without words, I leaned forward and began licking at the stains, attempting to clean away the evidence of my weakened status.
The handcuffs prevented me from using my arms for balance or support and I often found myself pressing my tongue very immodestly against his form. I began on his jacket which for me was less intimidating than what lie below there. In time I did end up dragging my tongue across spots on his polished leather belt, the snap of his fly and down the seam of his zipper. The lump of his cock was obvious. With every stroke of my tongue I knew I was submitting on a level or in a way that I'd never been faced with.
Because the spots were s**ttered and most of the moisture was all ready seeping well into the fabric, I only gathered random drops of my cum. Nonetheless, I continued and went over each stain several times. After it was obvious I could do no more, settled my weight back onto my heels and looked up.
His eyes met mine, now with a slight smile on his face. "You're doing just fine, babygirl." His voice was a familiar comfort. I was sure I was safe and well. I leaned forward and rubbed my face against the swell of his cock, indicating my willingness to serve. It wasn't what I wanted but I believed it was what he expected. His hand reached down and pressed the back of my head, his fingers fondling squeezing as he held my face against his groin. His hips began small motions, grinding himself against me.
That lasted only seconds then his hand dropped from my head and he took a small step backward, creating distance between us and leaving me tottering to regain my balance. He chuckled briefly, and with a deep rumble I recognized as desire, his voice broke the silence, "Not yet, little girl. You haven't earned that yet."
I saw him removing his wide patent leather belt, "Head down, ass up. Daddy's been wanting this." His tone had a new warm note - I thought of Boyd approaching a Thanksgiving table - I was the stuffed Turkey. Spreading my knees for stability, I assumed the posture, sighing happily as I laid my cheek to the wood floor. I offered my ass high and proudly, giving it a teasing wag. I was rewarded by the pleasant note of response from my new master's chest. Then came the belt, the beautiful leather strap I would quickly learn to love.
He didn't say a word but swung the strap with a steady rythmn, applying the blows evenly so both globes of my offered ass were as red as my sissy lingerie. From my waistline to the tops of my thighs I could feel a burn that would be lasting. I kept my ass high while swimming on my shoulders and face, I writhed through the stew of pleasure and pain, digesting both with glorious passion.
This is what I did, this is what I was for. Where was my Joyce? I wished she could see. I hoped she would be proud. She had crafted me, mentored me, led me to understand that this was where I was most myself, most free. All ready this felt right. I knew this man, I know I had loved him. Now he was more and I loved him more. I hoped he would craft me, teach me.
The belt stopped and then he was beside me, on his knees, his left arm circling my waist, his right hand on my ass. He massaged all the red flesh. His finger pressed as he traced the welt left by Amanda and the cane. I could feel my fire and his hand danced with the flames, coaxing them to fade and leave only the pleasure and warmth. His hand slid inside my thin panties, massaging the globes of my ass, caressing my crack. His thick finger found my rosebud and then one pushed inside me, pressing and stroking. I whimpered and leaned back against his hand.
And then he was behind me and I felt his cock pressing in. Again I whimpered and pushed backward. I was drier than I would have wanted for this moment but I wanted him. It was rough and painful but I wanted his cock. I wanted him to use me.
Perhaps his precum, perhaps mucus from my insides, even blood from my torn pussy but moisture came and so did bliss. He rode me and I loved it. I rocked my hips trying to catch his stride. His arms came around me and his fingers found my nipples. He squeezed them and stretched them allow them to snap back. His fingers grip my fat cones and squeezed the tips.
The man drove the pace, dragging his cock out of me and forcing himself back in. My body was alive beneath his onslaught, welcoming his strength and wanting his pleasure. It felt so good to be used in this way, by HIM.
He pulled away, withdrawing his hard meat, leaving my pussy empty and needy. He grabbed my hair and drew me back up onto my knees. Before me was his rampant erection, his fist pumping. I hung my mouth, offering my throat to welcome his cum but that was not his intent. The spurts came fast and strong, two streaking my face, flooding my left eye and streaking across my lips. Heavy drops fell onto my neck and chest.
He bent down and put his hand beneath my arm, helping me to stand. His mouth went to my face, his tongue collecting his cum from my skin. He then kissed me, his tongue pressing to mine, bringing a snowball gift from him to me. He bent and again gathered cum, from my throat and the smooth skin of my chest. This time when he kissed it was longer, stronger. His hands held my head and I felt his mouth owning me as had the belt and his driving penis.
He broke the kiss and allowed me to lay my head on his shoulder, his arms keeping me against his warm chest. I savored the moment, gathering his warm male scent, relishing his strength and how if felt to be soft and vulnerable in his embrace. I gathered myself and lifted my head.
Keeping my gaze downcast, I asked, "May I lick you clean, Daddy?" My voice sounded unusually deep and certainly inappropriate.
Even as he loosened his tender hold and allowed me to settle back onto my knees, I was making a calculation, a compromise. Licking his dirty cock clean... it wasn't a matter of what I wanted. It was what was right. I knew it was shameful and wrong but inside, I knew that I did want to do it.
I did not realize that he'd removed his suit trousers but his thick bush and hairy thighs were on full display. His soft uncut sausage hung thick and wrinkled, an irresistible icon I eagerly bent to scoop into my mouth. Soft and malleable it all fit into my mouth so that I was able to press nose all the way into the warm nest of his pubic hair. His heavy belly pillowed my forehead and allowed me the fantasy of smothering in his warmth. My mouth soaked and slobbered his penis while my nose feasted on the warm salty scent of a new dominate body that was to be my focus.
His fingers squeezed my shoulder and I withdrew, slurping the last of my saliva off his fleshy organ. I looked up at him, giving my version of a pout for having my candy taken away. He grinned back in response, tipping his chin upward.
"Come on, you. Let's get those cuffs off of you." As I struggled to my feet, he bent to recover his own pants and rescued the key to the cuffs from the pocket. I turned my back to him, glad to have the cuffs coming off.
There had been some straining against the steel restraints and I had a few sore spots that I was compelled to massage once I had my hands back in front of me. HIS hands squeezed my shoulders and then he leaned in and licked at my neck. Uncontrollably, a shiver run up my back.
"Go clean yourself up. Fix your makeup. Come back out and we'll talk."

chapter 4
I pushed the bathroom shut, hearing the latch click. With another step I was in front of the mirror and I stopped, momentarily losing myself in the image. My makeup was ruined. The tears, sweat and saliva all took their toll. My lipstick was gone. Eye liner and mascara streaked well down my cheeks and made the rest of my face into a mask of distress. I fluffed the hem of my nightie in a vain attempt to restore some sort of decorum, but then I saw the wet cum stains in my matching panties. I had been pretty well fucked over and I felt great.
I tried to run through the fixup like a fire drill but there was work to do... but my mind would not stop. Boyd was Daddy now... for now. I was fixated but anxious.
He shouldn't have put me in here alone so soon. I wanted more from him but my thoughts were a jumble. I had been put through a whirlwind and had finished on my knees, mouthing my ass stain off a man's cock. I tried to guess the time that had lapsed. So much had changed for me, in such a short period. My thoughts went to Joyce, my beloved. My goddess. She knew. She had pushed me down this rabbit hole. She wanted me here, to experience this. I raised my soapy face and I examined my eyes, reflected on my feelings. I was enjoying this. I had experienced humilation and despair on a level that Joyce had never driven me to but the redemption, the salvation were also without equal. Both had been extraordinary and delicious. But I was conflicted. I had been ass fucked by a man. I had asked to suck my butthole residue from his spent penis and had not wanted to take it from my mouth when he deemed it time. I wasn't supposed to like these things. But I was submissive and that was wrong too, wasn't it? Craving humilation and the arousal it brought was not something an outsider would understand.
I rinsed the soap away, not looking at my naked face in the mirror. Outside that closed bathroom door was my sissy world, waiting for me with open arms - I wanted to keep myself focused on that role. I blinked and drew a breath at the thought of Daddy's big thick arms embracing me and how good that felt. I thought of my lips parting and welcoming his kiss. His thick strong tongue and it's white gift of his cum occupying my mouth. I love my Joyce but being her bedroom pet had never felt like this.
With my face clean I applied moisturizer as I scanned the vanity and it's supply of makeup. Pushing aside distractions, I settled back in front of the mirror and smoothly restored my pale dollface. It took no time to color in the details, and very quickly I was smiling back with my best. I applied dusting powder generously and an equal dose of perfume. I fluffed my hair with a blow dryer, and then with the heated air did the same to the lingerie I'd hung on the shower rod. Soon I stepped back into my glittering red shoes, all fresh and bouncy, ready to show my new Daddy what a perfect sissy I really am.
I cracked the door and looked out before reentering the bedroom. After my last exit from a bathroom, I was wary of another ambush, but I just saw Daddy lying back on the bed. As I stepped out he rolled onto his side and looked me over, his eyes squinting as he moved his focus slowly over my body. Never was I more aware that I was a 250 pound man wearing lingerie meant for an equally big woman. He took in every detail, looking at my shaved legs, my posed stance, and all the details that showed I was feminized. I knew makeup and perfume would only provide vague cover. It was never thought I would look like a true female. I tried to square my shoulders and get my head straight. I calmed myself, acknowledging again that I was a submissive, wearing my role like a prize. I did not avert my eyes directly but took the chance to look at him as well.
Broad and hairy, he was like a pale bear when I saw him stretched out like that. Remembering his warmth and strength, I found I wanted to lay on the bed with him and feel those arms draw me close. I saw that his uncut penis lay in a compact curl amid a tangle of black and grey fur and I found myself fascinated. I was curious and eager but intimidated as well. I was still conflicted but I knew I had to push any concerns away. For now I was comfortable to pose and primp for him, enjoying feeling very cute and girlish with my fresh makeup and flouncy lingerie. I settled my nerves with a deep breath and tried to look calm as I minced my way to the bed side, only daring to glance at his cock . He gestured with a wave of his right hand to spot on the far side of the room. "Take a walk for me, fucktoy. Show me what you've got!" His dismissive tone rung in my head but I was eager to comply. I was "Daddy's fucktoy"! At this point I sensed it would be a good thing.
I felt his scrutiny while I walked with my heels clicking sharply across the hard floor.