Seven Deadly Sins
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The Seven Dressing Sins: Vanity free porn video
"To recreate this scene, you will need..."
John tightened his calf muscles as he watched the young woman on the TV
present an untidy scrap of cloth.
"One white fishnet dress."
He thought he knew her, somehow - something in her voice perhaps. He
didn't know anybody with a crimson streak through her long blonde hair.
And he certainly didn't know anybody who'd do a porn movie.
The camera remained pointed at her wonderful breasts. They were small
but very firm, and semi-aroused nipples broke through black fishnet. Her
gloved hand appeared again.
"One white fishnet suspender belt, eight metal-clipped suspenders."
John watched her dangle them, mesmerised.
"One pair of white fishnet stockings, deep lace welt."
The garments were almost invisible, soft white insubstantial promises of
kisses of apparel. The narratress placed them gently on an upholstered
chair. The camera moved back to let John see she was wearing black
fishnet suspenders and stockings.
She turned, and the camera zoomed in, past the hands on her hips, to her
crotch.
"Next of course, one pair of white fishnet tanga knickers with lace
detail at the waist and ruffled seat. Tie crotch."
Hers were black, filmy and seductive. She wiggled slightly so John could
see the way her alluring dress slid gently over the lace waistband. She
turned and bent over, presenting her glorious arse to the lens. Rows of
crisp black lace stretched across her netted derriere and John could see
a thread of black lace stitching together a well crafted opening that
would reveal its secrets at a tug.
"One pair of fishnet gloves," she said as she stood and turned around.
She looked flushed at the collarbone as she waggled her fingers in their
dainty mesh.
"Again white, and I much prefer fingers to fingerless - eh, girls?"
John smiled in spite of himself.
"One pair of white plastic knee boots, zip fastening and high-gloss.
Six-inch heel."
She held up the shiny boots, white glittered in the light and contrasted
her own pair in black.
"And finally, most important - don't forget this if you're acting out
this scene at home - a strapon dildo!"
Her small hand clasped a monster.
God, thought John, that must be... must be at least... maybe -
"Seven inches long," the girl said, "A whole seven inches of pink cock.
Seven inches of banging pleasure with open-crotch straps in pink
leather. A bulging head for thrusting, a smooth pink shaft for sliding,
and a pair of hot pink balls for grinding."
He fidgeted uneasily as she wafted it in front of him.
"That, of course, means lube - and plenty of it, This is waterbased, and
tingles as it warms up... I love it!"
She waggled a blue tube before putting it down on a table.
"Let me explain how my games work. I create a perfect fantasy. And then
I show you how to exactly recreate it. I'll detail your costume, your
props, and your start position. As you watch me create your fantasy, you
copy what you see onscreen. There are subtitles that will prompt you
when you need to recite dialogue. The game will sense movement, and I
will correct you if you fluff a line or move out of position.
"A safeword will be displayed in the bottom left corner of the screen.
Should you choose to use it, and game will stop immediately."
The word flashed into the corner of the screen, glowing white characters
almost daring to be uttered.
"So do you understand that sex should be safe sane and consensual and
that Jane's Pegging Corporation accepts no responsibility for anything
that happens to you should you decide to copy anything you see in this
game?"
There was a pause, followed by the stamp of her foot.
"I said, do you understand that sex should be safe sane and consensual
and that Jane's Pegging Corporation accepts no responsibility for
anything that happens to you should you decide to copy anything you see
in this game?"
"Yes," he yelped in surprise.
"What is your name, little girl?" she growled.
"John," he whispered.
"That's John, mistress," she said sternly.
"John, mistress!" he said.
"Well, John, shall we begin the reenactment?"
"Yes, mistress."
John met Katie through a friend. She was a quiet girl who was, according
to the friend, some sort of rich star coder who'd earned a fortune doing
something online. John hadn't paid much attention beyond the word
"rich".
He'd started seeing her more because there was nobody else around - they
hadn't exactly hit it off. He spent a lot of time at the gym, playing
tennis, working out and toning, while she showed no interest in fitness
or beauty regimes.
John was all ready to dump her - their relationship hadn't exactly
overflowed with her supposed wealth and she'd been reluctant to talk
about it when he pressed her.
But she'd saved herself for at least one more night when she'd snagged
his curiosity earlier that day
"Do you want to try something really different at my place tonight?" She
asked as she nuzzled his ear as he sat in front of a tanning lap, eyes
closed, wearing a mud face mask.
"What is it?" he asked, intrigued.
"Something naughty I think you'll like."
"Er, sure," he replied.
He heard her feet padding away on the wooden floor.
"I said spread them!"
John tried to reach back even further to grab his buttocks, which meant
putting his face to the hard wooden flooring. On the screen two
handshapes appeared as a man held his arse open. As John moved his
fingers, the hands changed shape until he matched the man's grip.
He opened up his arse, feeling the cool air against his glistening, oily
sphincter.
"This is where we find out if you followed lubrication instructions
properly during preparation!"
The woman moved closed to the kneeling man and shuffled into place
between his fishnet clad legs.
"And we can just start to move your sexy little knickers to one side."
John felt Katie's warm, slim hands sliding the net fabric over his
smooth-shaven balls.
"And now there's just the matter of... easing it in."
Katie's voice deepened as the words appeared on the screen. John noticed
she barely had time to read them before she mouthed the lines.
But that fact didn't register for very long as he felt a pressure on his
exposed entrance. It was insistent and irresistible, and despite his
best efforts it popped through his resisting sphincter. He moaned loudly
as the shaft filled him inexorably, insinuating itself into his tight
passage.
"Oh, Christ!" he blurted out as Katie's thighs touched his.
"No talking without permission!"
Katie's hand spanked his right cheek as the instruction appeared. He
flinched, involuntarily clenching the muscles in his ravished bottom.
"And now to turn you into my cock-hungry fishnet slut!" Katie and the
subtitles declared.
John braced himself in anticipation. Blood flushed his skin and he could
hear the whisper of his white fishnet dress as it flowed across his
suspender belt in a lewd, bawdy hiss.
He curled his toes, feeling the stockings slithering against the
smoothness of his legs and the slippery plastic boots.
Katie's knob moved out of him, before the powerful woman atop him
clamoured hungrily at the gates to his very soul. But as she began to
ride him there was only one question in his cock-confused mind: How had
the game known about his fantasy?
John had awakened to femininity during his first year at university,
that golden age of experimentation and discovery that saw so many
flowers bloom.
Mary was his first crush, and the enduring influence on his sexuality.
From the first time the chubby, leathered-up biker suggested living out
her lesbian fantasies, John readily acquiesced to her requests to appear
more womanly.
He'd blushed as she told him his smooth tanned skin was already turning
her on. And when he shaved and dyed his pubic hair into a cherry-red
heart for her, he'd received the finest blowjob he'd ever imagined he
could have.
But it didn't take long for her to reveal she couldn't resist a handsome
man in stockings. When she told him, John spent days trying to please
her with his mouth - all the time waiting for the suspender belt he'd
ordered from ebay.
Instead of being grateful, Mary asked why he hadn't ordered matching
knickers.
As taught, he spread himself against the wall and waited for his
punishment. Mary announced the price for orgasm with no knickers on: a
strict whipping.
That day he took her oath and became her love-slave. Mary had
humiliated, belittled and harangued him as she dragged him as she
dragged him down the satin slope of womanhood.
But the the ultimate shame came as he begged her for cock while his head
was tightly imprisoned between her legs.
"Beg me!" she ordered.
"Plmth lmee tay yuh coh!" John shouted, proud to be her beautiful pussy-
slave.
"You'd love that, wouldn't you, you fucking tart? Taking a cock up your
arse - you're such a fucking fag!"
Mary's hand slid up and down the length of his tortured shaft,
imprisoned in red microfibre boyshorts and sheer red tights.
The corset he wore made it difficult to answer her, restricting his
breathing and midriff.
"Come for me, my gorgeous tranny bitch!"
At that moment, John's world divided sharply into two. Men who allowed
themselves to be forced into lingerie-clad ejaculation, and those who
would not.
John's breathing changed with each flow and ebb of the pink pleaser
being administered by Katie.
He'd lost - he could feel it. His struggle to keep his masculinity had
been swept away by the sensations of a cheap hooker outfit. The fishnet
dress rubbed every part of his body as he accepted Katie's stiffness.
"I think it's high time for the mirror - are you ready to see what you
look like, slut?"
John nodded but could only grunt.
A slap - left buttock this time.
"I SAID: I think it's high time for the mirror, are you ready to see
what you look like... slut?"
"YES" John shouted, startled at his own bellow.
"Yes, what?"
Another slap, onto his already-stinging left cheek.
"Yes, mistress!"
Katie began moving, turning him with the dildo embedded firmly inside
his arse. He winced as a sudden burst of pleasure washed through him
followed by pinpricks of exquisite pain as the shifting replica cock
brushed against previously unsuspected nerve endings.
At least it answered the question about the black silk sheet. Katie
stretched forward and grabbed it with her red-tipped talons. As she
pulled, John's penetrator moved again, and he groaned as it pulsed
delight into the core of his being.
A core that burst alight as the sheet floated gently to the floor and
uncovered the reflection beneath.
John's mouth fell open as he beheld his own buggering. He'd seen what
was happening to him in the game but there had still been that...
separation... between his own ass-fucking and the one being meted out by
the digital dominatrix.
The mirror, however, couldn't disguise the whore dressed in a fishnet
dress, knickers, suspenders and stockings that were tipped by flailing
white plastic boots. That was him. John. Such a masculine name felt
ridiculous attached to the panting and desperate wretch who writhed and
gasped and cried out in lipsticked horror and blonde-wigged despair as
her own desire was stoked by a firm thrust that echoed with a meaty
clapping noise.
Katie was plumbing his most intimate depths with her female stiffness,
riding him at a grinning canter that battered at John's reluctance. With
each slamming measure of fulfillment and surrender, John gave himself
over to the bliss delivered by his girlfriend's eager, passionate
fucking.
He arched his spine to align his opening with Katie's member, taking a
deep breath as he guessed her next move.
His reward came a split-second later as the fake cock ploughed
effortlessly into him in one swift, smooth stroke. Stars lit up behind
his painted eyelids, tiny tears in the corners of his eyes threatened to
make his mascara run and his scarlet lips formed a dainty hoop of
thrilled surprise.
"Yeeah, you little whore - now you're mine," said the game, "and..."
"This is Katie!" shouted John's girlfriend.
A mechanical voice on the TV intoned: "backdoor, miss?"
"Yes!" shouted Katie, matching the deadpan rhythm with her probing,
emasculating humping.
"Ohhhhhh," breathed the TV, "My mistake, slave girl. I meant to say
you're the fucktoy property of Queen Katie, whose cock you are not fit
to take. Who do you think you're fooling? All those fucking facial-
masque deep-pore anti-dandruff bullshit potions you slap all over your
body? All that working out you do? And you shave your pubies, too?"
John looked around in shock, tearing his gaze away from Katie's
masterful fucking.
At that moment the woman leaned into the camera.
"Oh, I think you've been feminised before. Some are cockerels, John, and
some are capons."
His mind suddenly ordered itself. The television was showing his
girlfriend's face and taunting him about his fetishes.
"K-Katie?" he managed to stammer.
"That's right baby. Just like you dreamed - two girls at once," Katie
said, "Do you want to know how?"
"B-but that's you!" John managed, as Katie leaned over him to rub her
breasts on his back as she drove her hardon between his abused cheeks.
"Of course it's me," said Katie, "I programmed her. I mean me."
She thrust into John again just as her twin did the same to his
lookalike,
"I wrote the game, John."
John's mind reeled.
"I watched you taking sweet Mary in that gorgeous boy-pussy of yours a
number of times!"
Katie's thrusts were sharper now - staccato beats of primal music that
John couldn't help dancing to. He moaned in rapture as she slowed,
feeding his arse the grinding, twisting length.
"I know all about you and Mary, baby," Katie whispered, "I was there,
watching the first time she dressed you up in fishnet and fucked you,
just like you're being fucked now. You remember that night, don't you
slut?"
John did, and his cock twitched as he recalled that particular violation
he'd undergone. His face flushed with shame as he remembered the
indecent enjoyment he'd felt when Mary's strapon began vibrating. And as
Mary pounded brutally on his arse, he'd felt the first stirrings of a
dark addiction as his prostate craved the hard stimulation it was
getting.
"Both myself and Mary made a fortune from motion capture, John,"
breathed Katie, "A foolproof phone app that could map somebody in high-
detail 3D from its camera. It wasn't perfect but Mary and I just didn't
have the cash to invest, even though it was next-gen stuff. Once we
became lovers as well as partners, we, um, found the software worked
best if you wore helpful clothing. Such as bright fishnets."
Katie leaned over him, pressing her breasts onto his back. John could
feel the hot skin through the layers of fine netting between them. She
kept her hips pressed against his, forcing her cock as deep as she could
possibly manage.
John's inarticulate cry showed just how much shameful pleasure raced
through his body, and his face clenched at his loss of control. Katie
started to tease him, grinding a circle against his upturned buttocks
and stirring his insides.
John could only gargle a strangulated shriek of indignant glee in
response.
"We needed cash and, well, if you want money you make porn. Neither of
us wanted to volunteer, but Mary said she'd found just the boy. She'd
manipulate him until he'd dress in fishnets and let himself be screwed
in the arse good and long - at which point I'd mocap him and we'd walk
away with a game.
"Quite an idea, isn't it? A voice-controlled game for femdom sex.
There's a dominant mistress running some filthy-minded algorithms to
sense what you're doing and give instructions. There's also a submissive
sissy slave to service your fancy and obey your dirtiest whim. You can
go multiplayer. Or you can hide easter eggs in your code to seize
control of the game like I have. So - we had a model sissy, we had the
tech, we just needed a mistress to front it. And because Mary had
already done the sex part, it was my turn on screen."
John's mind, scrambled by the exhilarating firework display inside his
head provided by Katie's cock, suddenly lit up.
"That's me, with improvements. No point keeping any small blemishes, is
there? And thanks to one crazy Hollywood divorce that named our game as
co-respondent, I've sold enough copies online to fund my own game
studio."
It started making sense to John. She knew about his fetish because Mary
had set him up. And now they were re-enacting his first fucking (Mary
had given him plenty more before she grew bored of him) with Katie
reprising her game's role. No wonder she knew the dialogue...
"But studios come and go all the time, John," Katie gasped, her
breathing now ragged, "What we need is a hit. What we need is a sequel."
John reeled as the pieces fell into place.
"But you're not... now, are you?"
Katie laughed and tossed her head back as she resumed plunging the toy
into John's inviting arse. He felt himself trying to tighten, to stop
the rod escaping - and when that didn't work he rocked backwards to meet
her motion, squeezing every inch of fullness he could from her.
She laughed again, musically.
"I thought of looking for another model, but what was the point? I
already knew a guy who'd do it. Until I could put my plan into motion,
so to speak, I'd put up with his constant grooming and primping and
preening. Because when the time was right, I'd use his fetish for
transvestite pegging to lure him in. This time the slut would fall for
himself as bait, his depraved need to watch his own fucking would put
him on his knees taking a solid-fucking-girl-cock!"
Katie hammered home the last words with resounding slaps to John's butt,
reddening it further and eliciting yelps of humiliation from his bright
red lips.
"But people will SEE me!" he gasped.
This time, Katie's laugh was a roar.
"You don't know? We renamed you Sissy, but we didn't change your image
in any way - millions of people have already seen you! And millions more
will!"
John's shoulders slumped as he took in the full ramifications of his
situation, and then collapsed in resigned despair. Could the drilling he
was getting make up for the fact he was a crossdressing pornstar? He
didn't know - but his arse was the only thing he could concentrate on as
he let go of his worries.
"Just think of all those masters and mistresses out there who'd been
fucking you silly in all the dirty scenarios my software can dream of
for the last year. Pounding you until your little head spins. Millions,
wanking themselves off abusing you for their pleasure and amusement. Not
to mention those silly, frilly sissy sluts wishing they were you!"
John's body was machine-gunned by splashes of erotic warmth as he
thought of the depths of sodomy his avatar must have fallen to, the
perversions performed on him around the world. He was a naughty girl
receiving initiation into the school's buttslut club from his cousin the
head prefect. He was a pathetic, sobbing mess at the hands - and strapon
- of a strict aunty with a taste for boys in organza. He was discovered
wearing knickers in a nightclub by a predatory-looking hen party which
had taken him back to a house for a game of sissy Twister.
Katie's voice knifed through the fantasy haze.
"And now you, John. You're about to orgasm as I fuck you. As you watch
your own narcissistic fucking, along with your audience. Give it up for
them!"
Katie gripped his throbbing cock with cool fingers.
"Mary's watching and recording the whole thing next-door, but she'll be
keen to reacquaint herself with her vain little fuckbitch once we're
done."
Her slow but firm strokes on John's cock were slowly driving him towards
a tear-inducing orgasm, but she kept her measured pace as she eased her
plastic dick into him.
"And with your share of royalties, we can go anywhere we want, baby -
and make as many sequels as we want."
"Ugh, ooo, ughn, oh, FUCK!" shouted John
He could feel how close he was to filling his pristine white fishnet
knickers with a good load of sticky cum. But he had to know one thing.
Even as he felt the contractions start around the base of his balls, he
had to ask.
"What... was it called?" he managed from between clenched teeth.
Katie's hand quickened, smearing pre-cum around his shaft as she sensed
his impending release and slammed him back onto her strapon.
"Vanity," she whispered in his ear as he bucked and convulsed and
spurted...
Cheryl
- 23.08.2022
- 14
- 0
