Sissy All Sorts free porn video

SISSY ALL SORTS by Throne Paul Lockes couldn't believe it. His father's second wife, Tanya, wanted to control the family's money. She had made a good start by dazzling the wealthy patriarch with her sexual creativity, marrying him, and keeping him more than happy. But now she wanted Paul out of the way, so she had drugged him and when he halfway awoke his longish hair was dyed yellow- blond, he was wearing panties and high heels, and she was calling him Goldie. Along with all that, his body hair was gone and his penis was trapped inside a curved chastity tube. Before he had come fully out of his dazed state, she and Duke, the pool guy who she was probably sleeping with, had shoved him into the backseat of the family town car. Then Burt, the driver who she was probably sleeping with, had whisked him far from the Lockes family estate. Now, as his mind cleared slightly, Paul found himself far out in a wooded area. The vehicle drove up a long unpaved drive to the front of a rambling old mansion. "Everybody out," Burt said jovially. He grabbed Paul by his bare upper arm and dragged him from the car, saying, "If you want to get out of that penis prison, the holder of your key is inside." He smacked him playfully on the ass and offered, "Have a nice day, panty boy." As the car drove away, Paul tried to gather his thoughts. It was late afternoon and dusk would soon dim the sky. He couldn't stay out here, and he wasn't about to hike back to the county road and try to flag down a ride, not looking the way he did. His only choice was to go into that huge old place and plead his case to whoever was there, hoping they would let him free his penis, and then provide him with some masculine clothing. He tottered up the front steps on the high heels. When he tried to remove them he discovered that the buckles had been sealed with super glue. He knocked on the door but there was no response. When he tried it, however, it opened. As Paul went inside a wave of dizziness hit him. He staggered to an old wooden chair and collapsed onto it. One of the legs snapped and he was dumped onto the hardwood floor. He struggled to his feet and stumbled into a kitchen. Maybe if he ate something it would help him think straight. He spotted a bowl of shredded wheat on the table. He found a pitcher of milk in the fridge and, after pouring some and eating most of the cereal, he did feel more like himself. So he continued exploring the mazelike interior. Passing down a long hallway, he found a bedroom. There was a beautiful quilt on the bed and it looked so inviting that he crawled under the welcoming cover just to rest for a few moments. Paul must have dozed off because suddenly he heard male voices. One was complaining about the broken chair. A minute later another said something about the missing food. Finally, a third remarked loudly as the bedroom door was opened and the intruder was discovered, still half asleep, "This must be who did it and now he's crashed out in my bed." The trio of men were all tall and beefy, wearing jeans and leather vests, but no shirts. They had profuse body hair. The panty-wearing man said groggily, "W... who are you?" The tallest of the three said, "We're members of The Ursine Brotherhood and this is our headquarters and lodge. You must be Goldie. Mrs. Lockes told us to expect you. We didn't think you'd be here so soon so we went out for a walk." "L... look," Paul said pleadingly. "You've got to help me. I can explain everything." The second of the three strode over to him, grabbed a corner of the quilt and swept it away in a single motion. Paul gasped and tried to cover himself with both hands. The burly men laughed and moved closer. The third one said, "Usually we like our own kind but a little fem specimen like you would be a nice change." The second added, "For all three of us at once." And the first concluded, "Several times a day, like Mrs. Locke suggested. "She explained that this is your fantasy, to be manhandled by a bunch of rough tough guys like us. To be turned every which way but loose. And she made sure we understood that pretending to hate it and fighting back was part of your scene. So hey, we're ready to play along. We appreciate her very generous contribution to our group. And like she said to do, we hid that key to your chastity real good." "N... no," Paul whimpered. "I honestly DON'T want you to do anything to me. To touch me or make me touch you or... anything." The three hulking figures winked at each other and chuckled. The biggest put a scowl on his stubbled features and said in a threatening voice, "Looks like the sissy is going to give us a fight. We'll have to get nasty if we want a piece of that sweet sissy body." "And to make her use those smooth sissy hands." "Plus that pretty sissy mouth." They closed in on the bed and Paul started to beg, which inflamed their passions. He couldn't miss the fact that each of them sported an impressively large bulge at their crotch. And then one of them said, "I'm really going to hate to have to share Goldie after the weekend." "Yeah, but more of the Brothers will be arriving and they'll want some of what she's got, too." "Just imagine. She's going to get to live out her fantasy for the entire Summer." *** Greg was admiring himself in the full length, bedroom mirror. Sure, he was a few pounds overweight, and the fringe of hair around his bald pate was gray, but he still liked the way he looked in panties and a diaphanous dressing gown. He eyed the wig that waited on its stand atop the dresser. As he reached for it, the door opened behind him and his wife Inez gasped. She said in a calm but no-nonsense voice, "I thought something like this was going on, Gregory. And now I can see that it's true. My husband is a big sissy." He backed up into the dresser, his hands held over his smooth chest as if he was a girl trying to conceal her breasts. "Dear," he said desperately, "I can explain." "I'm sure you can. Just like you explained that you got rid of all your body hair for health reasons. That was my first clue." Inez was a handsome woman with a full bust and broad hips, and she kept herself in good shape. She was the same height as him but had on heels, which gave her an advantage of several inches. He sank to his knees and clasped his hands in front of him, saying, "If you'll just listen to me, I'll do anything you say." "How about this instead? You listen to ME and then you'll do anything I say." "I... I..." He could see the futility of further argument and so he simply hung his head and told her, "Yes, dear. Whatever you want." "That's more like it. I may be stuck with a sissy husband, and one with a small dick at that, but at least I can entertain myself by playing some games with you." She looked around the room before she announced, "First, I want to see you all fancied up, with your pretty wig on and lots of cosmetics." He shivered in fear and excitement as he rose and then sat in the vanity chair in front of her dressing table. With practiced movements, Greg took one item of make-up after another and transformed his face. His wife told him not to skimp, so he applied everything with a generous hand, giving his face a somewhat overdone look. She wanted to know, "So what shall I call you when you're all dolled up? Suzie or Mary Jane or something?" He sheepishly told her, "I like the name Ginny." "Oh. Well then, Ginny, pop that wig on your head and let's see the real you." He took it lightly between his hands and held up. It was brunette, in a pageboy style. He settled it into place and turned uncertainly to his critical wife. She gave him an unsympathetic look and snapped, "You look like a naughty girl. Get back on your knees and tell me why I shouldn't..." She glanced at the dresser, reached out, and picked up her hairbrush. "... tell me why I shouldn't tan your fanny with this. Come on, Ginny. Tell Momma why she shouldn't give you a good old fashioned hairbrush spanking that'll make you squeal like the sissy you are." Wearing a worried expression, Greg resumed his kneeling posture, though now it was as Ginny. His wife stepped closer and crossed her arms under her substantial bosom, peering down at him disapprovingly. He managed to say, "I... I'm not hurting anybody when I dress up like this. And it... it's something I've always loved. I know it was wrong not to be honest about it but... well..." "But THAT is the problem. You've been lying to me -- Ginny -- lying by omission. And I don't like it. No, I can't see the use of sparing the rod. Or in this case the brush," she amended with a wicked smile, the color rising in her cheeks and a glint of passion appearing in her green eyes. Was she beginning to LIKE the shift in their relationship? She slapped the flat reverse side of the brush against an open palm and then ordered, "Follow me to the den, girl. I'll sit on the ladder-back chair and you can put your sissy self across my lap." He said shakily, "Y... you're going to SPANK me? Like a... a..." "Misbehaving girl? That's exactly how I'm going to spank you, because that's what you've been acting like. You told me you would do whatever I said and now that's exactly what's going to happen." Greg bit his lower lip, hugged himself, and followed wordlessly. In the den she made a show of sitting and patting her well padded thighs. There he stood, barely covered by the little he wore, while she was completely dressed. The power exchange that had occurred was totally in her favor. He meekly put himself across her lap. She raised the rear of his dressing gown and laid it on his back, out of the way, then told him to lower his panties, which she referred to as 'your pretty panties'. They were pink and lacy and he awkwardly reached back as he lay there to tug them down off his plump bottom and partway down his chubby thighs. Inez put her free hand on the small of his back to steady him. He reached down and gripped the legs of the chair. In no hurry, she made him wait while she took a few practice swings through empty air. He made the mistake of relaxing momentarily, and that was when she suddenly swatted him hard on his upturned backside, eliciting a yowl of surprise and pain from her husband. Another five blows landed in rapid succession, making his feet lick and keeping him vocalizing. She halted as abruptly as she had commenced and he remained where he was, taking deep shuddering breathes, whimpering softly between them. She allowed him to regularize his breathing before declaring in a soft but authoritarian voice that she was ready to deliver the next six swats. He braced himself. She waited. A shudder ran through him. And then she smacked his already sore flesh with the second assault, this time making him shed a few hot tears. After he had recovered a second time, she said consolingly that he only had three more to endure. In an unsteady voice he said, "I can handle that. Only three more spanks." "No, no," she corrected. "Only three more sets of six." He moaned unhappily but her arm went up, remained poised for long seconds, and then blasted his now bright pink rump with the third set. By the end of that he was weeping loudly and the abused areas had darkened several shades. During the interval she lectured him sternly, telling Greg, "Now that I've seen what a sissy you are, things around here are going to change. You like being in girly clothing so much that you can wear it while you clean the entire house. I'm sure I can find all sorts of fun fashions for you at the mall." With sudden inspiration she added, "And the local thrift shops. Hee, hee, hee. Won't you look charming in ruffled panties, a 38 DDD bra with the cups stuffed, and some sweet little slippers, while you clean the bathroom from top to bottom. Or maybe a nice jogging suit, several sizes too small, from one of those rummage stores, to stuff yourself into before you rearrange the furniture, while I sit around giving orders and sipping lemonade. Ha!" Moments later she peppered his bottom with the next-to-last punishing barrage. This time he cried plentiful tears, his lips working though he spoke no words. She restarted her musings, deciding that he would also have to serve her breakfasts in bed when the whim struck her, perhaps while he was dressed in a frilly apron and nothing else. "Or maybe you can crouch under the table in the breakfast nook, wearing just knitted legwarmers and a really long scarf, while I linger over coffee and pastries, and gab on the phone to my girlfriends. You'll just have to hope I don't slip up and mention your situation to them." He sniffled and whispered, "Oh, please, dear. Don't do that." She chuckled and said, "We'll see. I'm going to get a few laughs out of this, Ginny." "Y... yes, Ma'am." "Now let's get your final half dozen out of the way. All this exercise and... fun... is getting me kind of... worked up. There's something ELSE you're going to be cooperating with me about." Greg played it safe and simply repeated, "Yes, M... Ma'am." Inez took a deep breath, elevated the hairbrush in slow motion, and brought it down harder than ever, producing a loud crack. Greg wailed but she did not relent, spacing the remaining blows to prolong his suffering and making sure that by the end he was sobbing uncontrollably. "Now," she said, her voice thick with passion. "It's time to go back to the bedroom." His posture was contrite as he preceded her, panties still at half mast, knowing she had an excellent view of his bright crimson sitter through the transparent material of his flowing garment. Once they were there she made him undress her from the waist down. Even after that he felt like he was nearly naked and she was clothed to display her authority. She stretched out with her head on two pillows and spread her long legs. "I'm ready for some pleasure. For more than you have ever been able to give me with that tiny dick of yours, Ginny. Now get your face between my thighs and use your tongue like a proper sissy. Make Momma happy." Even as he began to get into position he was protesting, "But I can't do THAT. It's so... unmanly." She laughed out loud. "Well, darling, unmanly is exactly what you are, now isn't it? You are a sissy, Ginny, and this is what married sissies do for their wives. So get busy." He hesitated only slightly before taking a tentative lick, tasting her feminine musk, which was increased by the arousal she was feeling from dominating him. Inez gave a few instructions and soon he was lapping her like a loving lesbian, which is what she told him he might as well be, because he certainly wasn't a man. Not anymore. Not in HER bedroom. He shivered with emotion but didn't slacken his pace, and didn't rush either. Instead he tongued her through two quaking orgasms. Afterwards she lay there, glowing with satisfaction, even purring. Greg asked uncertainly, "May I...? Now am I allowed to...?" "To what? Climb on top of me and poke your silly little wee wee into my warm, wet slit? Why would I want that? Young ding-a-ling's not big enough to give me any pleasure. Besides, I just had my fill of fun from your mouth. In fact, I think from now on this is how we'll spend our lovemaking time, with you giving and me getting." "B... but I'm all aroused. I mean, I'm really... I need to..." She snickered at how anxious he was. "Welllll," she considered, "how about this. I give you permission to place just the tip of your useless small penis against the entrance of my silky, snug pussy. I'll let you feel what you're no longer allowed to have." He got into the missionary position and carefully brought the end of his stiff member into contact with the center of her femaleness. The sissy husband groaned with frustration. His wife said, "Poor baby. Poor sissy baby. Momma will help you." Her hands came up and her fingers found his nipples, began to slowly play with them. He made mewling sounds of unmet need. She kept toying with his chest, never quite giving him enough, but permitting him to continue his shameful attempts to rub himself off against her body. "P... please," he said piteously after several more minutes of being kept on the brink. "Let me finish. I'll do anything for you. ANYthing." "Oh? You'll be my obedient sissy slave from now on, in bed and out?" "Yessss. Just please, let me finish." She giggled at his plight, withdrew her fingers, and made a show of wetting them in her mouth. After that they went immediately to his sensitive nipples and she tweaked them lightly until he was on the verge of a climax. At last Inez showed mercy and drove him past his limit, making him shoot his modest load all over the lips of her sex. It wasn't a complete orgasm but he was fawningly grateful for the incomplete favor she had granted him. She shook her head and said amusedly, "All right, sissy Ginny. You've had all the fun you can expect. Scoot to the bathroom and get a warm washrag to wipe up your little mess." He did as he was told and soon they were lying alongside each other, him snuggled against her, she stroking the side of his face. He looked at her and said, "Thank you, Inez. That was incredible." She smiled at him and said, "Well, it WAS your birthday treat. I hope you don't expect me to be so generous next time. I think for the next week... or two... I'm going back to being selfish and make you lick me before I tease you to the brink --- and then send you away with a set of blue balls." He laughed softly. "Whatever you say, sweetheart. I just can't believe how lucky am to have a wife who's so sympathetic that she lets me dress, comes on like a she devil, and then loves me more every year that we're together." "Hey, it's not that one-sided," she assured him. "I get all the orgasms I can stand, on demand, and don't have to do a thing for you except when I feel like it. This is all so indulgently selfish for me. I love you AND I love being spoiled. Now go put your wig back on the stand so it doesn't get messed up. And I really AM going to be extra mean next time. In fact, we're going to play The Cheating Wife and Her Sissy Cuckold. You know how hot I get when I pretend I'm in the middle of an affair and you have to stay home while I'm on my dates. Stay home all dressed up in some humiliating outfit and do your chores while I'm out getting properly laid." She chuckled. "I think this time I'll be with the young stud we saw on the premier of that new TV show. Mmmm. I'm getting hot already from thinking about it." She paused. "But let's get some sleep and you can think about how much fun playing that game will be... for me." He slid down and kissed her on the hand, saying, "Yes, Ma'am. Whatever you say. And thanks again for such a perfect birthday gift." And so they went to sleep, dreaming of the delights yet to come. *** Greta and Madge were having one of their afternoon get-togethers. They were both middle-aged, full-figured, and prone to dress to show off their substantial curves. The two of them were on Greta's enclosed back porch, sipping wine and nibbling on cookies from a gourmet bakery. Naturally, they were discussing their favorite topic, which was how they ran the lives of their sissy husbands. Both of them had found men who were small and weak-willed, then seduced them and, even before they were married, began to rule over them. Herbie and Norbert accepted it all, in large part because they were afraid of their wives. But the women had different techniques of exerting control, and they loved to compare and contrast how their methods worked. Greta was saying, "Of course, to me the funniest part of all this is that our guys both saw themselves as completely masculine." "Agreed. Forcing their sissy roles on them is so amusing." "But in my case, it's not forcing. I still cast my vote for manipulation. Giving Herbie the guilts, reminding him of how inadequate his tiny dick is, and generally putting him down, all get me turned on and keep him totally in line." "I know how you feel, babe, and I've seen how well it works..." She chuckled at the memories that provoked. "...but I can't resist slapping Norbert's face, punching his weak biceps, and putting him over my knee for lots of hard spankings." They didn't speak for a minute and then Greta resumed, "Okay, let me give you an example. Something that happened just last night. Herbie got an invitation to go out with a couple of his co-workers. I didn't say yes but I didn't say no, so he assumed it was okay with me. I let him think that until they pulled up to the curb out front and honked the horn. Then I pointed out that he had two loads of laundry to do. He got all upset and stood there wringing his hands. They honked again and he actually begged me not to make him tell them he wasn't allowed. I pointed out that it was his fault, for not requesting a firm answer from me, and for not having his workload caught up. I made him blame himself even though, as usual, I was being unfair. He had to go out there and confess that he was under my thumb, absolutely shaming himself and losing their respect, I'm sure. I ordered him not to make excuses but to tell the truth. What could be better than that?" "I'll tell you. Earlier this week, Norbert wore the same panties two days in a row. He was in a rush because I had given him too much to do around the house, and that's why he went to work wearing his Monday panties on Tuesday. You know, the ones I got him with the days of the week stitched on them." They both chuckled at that embarrassing fashion choice. "Anyway, I waited until he came home and undressed, then acted like I had just spotted it, even though I already knew. While he still had his trousers halfway down, I rushed over and slammed my fist into his ribs. Before he could recover I clapped my hands on his shoulders and slammed my knee into his crotch. He went down in a heap on the floor and I stood over him, yelling and shaking my fist as if he had committed some major crime. I can't tell you what a kick I get out of overreacting that way and keeping him in constant fear of me." The two of them went back and forth like that for the next half hour, each defending their own methods and pointing out why they favored them. Then the conversation stalled, with both of them thinking private thoughts. Greta poured more wine for each of them. They finished the cookies. "You know," said the hostess, as much as like my method, I do feel sometimes like Herbie has gotten too used to it. Her friend responded, "I know what you mean. As well broken as Norbert is, he does know what to expect from me." The both nodded agreement about those undeniable truths. Greta said, "So what should we...?" Her eyes grew wide with devilment. Madge said, "Yes, we could..." A wide smile spread across her plump face. Suddenly they were both chortling and clinking their glasses. What they had thought of would be perfect. That evening they met at Madge's home. Both the husbands had been dressed, Herbie (now Hibiscus) in a leotard and tutu, along with ballet slippers, and Norbert (or Nina) in a leather jock strap and posture collar. The gals made them wait uncomfortably for a half hour while they gabbed about some new show that had just started on TV. Then they got down to the business at hand. "We've come up with something new," Madge revealed, "to help you sissies be better at doing your work." "And," Greta added, "at showing us the proper deference." "What we've decided," Madge said with gravity, letting the weak husbands know that this was serious, "is..." Greta finished the sentence, "... to have a sissy swap. I will take Nina for a week." "And I'll get Hibiscus." The sissy husbands each knew how the other one's wife worked. They were both instantly scared. But there was nothing they could say. One thing that was the same for Herbie and Norbert was that backtalk would earn them punishment, whether the reprisal was psychological or physical. For the next seven days, each would experience how his fellow sissy suffered. The wives grabbed opposite spouses and led them to the house's two bedrooms. It was going to be a long night -- and a very long week. *** It was bedtime. Dana found Ivan, the young man she was turning into a pansy, in the bathroom. He had taken a shower and was examining himself, making sure that no body hair had grown back. None had. He was smooth and pink everywhere. At the same time, he was still uncomfortable with his new lack of masculinity. This was the stage of transformation that Dana loved the best, when her youths were nervous and ashamed all the time. She made sure that they never became completely comfortable with their new feminine personalities and looks, but there was something especially delicious about having them at this slightly earlier stage. His long hair was tied back and fixed with a big flouncy ribbon, apricot colored. He was naked except for a filmy, short dressing robe, which was all she allowed him. Ivan wanted to cover himself more but there was no way to do that, so he just stood there, holding the front of the garment together with his slender fingers, his cheeks colored by a slight natural blush. She ran her eyes up and down him, intentionally adding to his discomfort, and then said, "All right, Ivy, let's get you ready for sleep." His voice was a whisper as he said, "Yes, Miss Dana." His knees were together and his arms were now hugging his narrow chest. She approved of his voice and posture but didn't tell him. He could earn no compliments, only firm but not angry criticisms. He walked toward his bedroom and she observed the slight swish in his hips. It was just enough. She didn't want him to resemble a girl... just a guy who had been made over into a sweet sissy. When they reached the bedroom she took a quick visual inventory. His stuffed toys were nicely displayed, the posters of cute boy bands had been updated according to her instructions, and he had chosen a pretty outfit for the morning, hanging it outside the closet for her to judge, and also so it would be the first thing he saw upon awakening. Everything in the pink and white room was appropriately girlish. He stood alongside the bed and reluctantly shed his robe, draping it neatly over the back of an ice cream parlor chair. Then he turned and waited, his hands arranged chastely in front of his genitals. Ivan had an average sized penis and testicles, attractively formed, but she had repeatedly made subtle but disturbing remarks about them, suggesting that they were inferior, and that no woman would find them acceptable, which pushed him further into the pansy mindset. Dana went to the dresser and got him a satiny sleep sheath. She handed it to Ivan and he set it at his feet and then stood on its open end. As he worked it up his hairless body, the elasticized material molded itself to his contours. It had no sleeves or legs and, as he brought it higher, she had to take over and bring it the rest of the way up to his neck. There she used the ribbon that was fitted through openings to pull it snug and tie it off with a large floppy bow at his neck. Because his arms were held to his sides, he had no way to free himself from the simple cocoon of see-through flimsiness. As gracefully as he could, Ivan lowered himself onto the bed and got onto his back. Dana took an atomizer and sprayed him lightly with a flowery perfume. She adjusted his pillow, fluffing the ruffles on the ends of the pillowcase. Then she leaned down and kissed him lightly on the lips. At the same time her hand went to his crotch and caressed him gently. He writhed under her practiced touch and tried not to moan, which she had warned him was unladylike. Dana said softly, "Sleep tight, pretty princess. Have pleasant dreams." Of course, her touching was calculated to have the opposite effect of what her words wished for. He was left with a semi-erection, thinking of his past dreams of having girlfriends and enjoying man-on-woman sex. Now all that seemed impossible. The best he could hope for was to be matched with a female who wanted a male lesbian as her bed companion. Or he might end up partnered with a rough woman who liked to mistreat her pansy and make him perform unpleasant acts for her and, perhaps, her friends. Worst of all, Dana might hook him up with a man, or even a pair of men, who desired an effeminate specimen who they could treat like their sex slave, a well trained pansy who would perform to meet their perverted demands, as well as struggle to endure their heartless punishments. So he lay there for the next hour, trying not to think about his sexual future and having no luck in stemming the river of troubling thoughts that cascaded through his overheated mind. His Mistress returned to check on him, already knowing what she was likely to find. She pretended sympathy and said that maybe some minor noise was keeping him awake, even though she knew that wasn't true. She carefully placed high-grade plugs in his ears, shutting out all sound, making him feel even more helpless. Then she repeated her longed for but disruptive fondling of his man parts, starting the entire cycle of unwanted thoughts and unattainable rest over again. She walked out of the exaggeratedly pretty room once more, secretly smiling to herself. Ivan/Ivy strained to hear anything but could not. He was alone inside his own head, trapped with those thoughts he could not control. And the rest was silence. *** Starling, young sidekick to Dark Bat, struggled to squirm free from the corset into which Felina the Cat Gal had put him. It was no use because the wrist cuffs she had snapped on him were joined to the constricting garment by short (very short) gold chains. If only she had left him his belt, he might be able to free one of the escape tools hidden in it. Or if she had left him his costume's red shorts, he wouldn't be trying unsuccessfully to cover his exposed bits. It was soooo shameful. And then the feline femme fatale returned, her cat-suit showing off her perfectly proportioned curves, a sorority paddle in her hand. "Well," she said with a purr in her voice. "Time to begin transforming our junior hero into a Junior Miss. Ready to begin, boy wonderful?" *** (If some or all of these appeal to you, I hope you will delve into my other fevered fictions and leave comments. What would you like to see more of?)