Vicky Victorious free porn video

VICKY VICTORIOUS by Throne The first time I saw Alissa, I knew I wanted to be with her. She was tall and had a full figure, which is exactly the physical type I like. That might seem strange, since I'm short and slightly built, but you'll understand my thinking as I tell you more. And her personality was a perfect fit. Because of the extra weight she carried, much of it in her heavy bust, broad jutting bottom and plump thighs, she was the kind of girl that guys want to get into bed, but don't want to have as a steady girlfriend. They'd rather be seen with someone svelte and pretty. Not that Alissa wasn't pretty. But her face was roundish, with dark eyes, a slightly fleshy nose, and pillow lips. Most guys are looking for pale blue eyes, a pert nose, and a more modest mouth. They'd probably prefer blond hair, too, instead of the thick dark mass that fell to Alissa's shoulders. But her personality, which I was about to describe above. I needed to finish describing her appearance because, as with many people, the way they look has a big effect on their attitude. Being attractive sexually but not as a steady girlfriend got her plenty of attention, without any romance. So Alissa had issues with men. She could be painfully honest when talking about them and their shortcomings. The first week that she worked as a secretary in the company where I was a junior vice president (a title with almost no meaning, as there were so many who were given it) I watched how others reacted to her and, in turn, how she responded to them. She formed an immediate friendship with Terry, a Black woman who was also full figured, and I would occasionally hear snippets of their conversations, which included plenty of dissing of the other men. Sorry if I'm skipping around a little here. I want to include everything that's relevant, so you'll understand what happened later. I was constantly eyeing Alissa, waiting for her to bend over so I could get an extra good view of that wide bottom, or for her to put both hands on Terry's desk while leaning forward, because that usually gave me a peek of cleavage. To the other guys she was a curiosity, with generous curves that they might want to paw, but she wasn't someone they would invite out for coffee. To me, on the other hand, she was a goddess. I should also mention that I was a secret cross-dresser, with fantasies of being treated like a sissy by a voluptuous take-control woman. My desire to dress had appeared when I was a boy. I was drawn to magazine ads for women's clothes and anything on TV that even hinted at men being feminized. I would watch re-runs of that great old program, CASTING SPELLS, the one about a wife who is also a sorceress. It thrilled me when Cleo would use her magic to make her husband mute, or to prevent him from getting out of his chair. Granted, those were very mild forms of domination, but they struck a responsive chord inside me, one that would continue resonating for days. Then I saw the episode, legendary now in the on-line sissy community, in which she turned her husband Danny into a girl and he had to pretend to be his cousin, who Cleo called Deena. Though I had a collection of panties and wore them daily under my business suits, I hadn't gone much further then that. I bought a lovely nighty, a short filmy one with a ribbon tie at the neck. I have almost no body hair and shaved off what little there was on my chest. Then I put on the nighty, with the intention of sleeping in it, in the privacy of my apartment, but I chickened out. Obviously, I hadn't gotten far with fulfilling my private dreams. After Alissa appeared, however, all of my desires combined into a vision of the two of us being together, with her running my life and me being her sissy. I didn't see us being married, just dating a few times, and her being amused by how easy I would be to control and to feminize. That was as much as I dared to even consider. Right here I should give you a brief account of my dating history. It could be described in a few words. Awkward and unfulfilling. As I mentioned above, I'm not impressive to look at. The whole short-and-slim problem. As opposed to tall and muscular. Besides which, my face is bland. I do have a nice head of hair. Dirty blond. Which I wear short and neatly parted on the left. In other words, I make a boring package. Oops. Maybe I used the word 'package' unconsciously. Because that's another area where I'm lacking. I mean between my legs. My package isn't going to impress any female ever. I have genitals that never achieved their final growth spurt. That, combined with the non-existence of a full pubic bush, makes me look embarrassingly immature below the belt. Which is why my dating past is part of this story. On those rare occasions when I found a girl short enough not to have to look down on me, and undiscriminating enough not to want someone strong and confident, I've still had the obstacle of my meager man-parts. The usual pattern would be for me to take a woman out once and have her lose interest, just because I'm not exciting. If I got to the second date, and if she was a modern type who was easygoing about sex, we would progress to the making- out stage. I tended to fumble around, which is a surefire turn-off. But there were still occasions when a girl might put her hand on my crotch, or even open my pants and reach inside. That was a tense moment for me because I knew how little I had to offer. Once they felt what was there -- or rather, what wasn't there -- some of them would find an excuse to end the evening right away. Headache, anyone? But some were curious. Maybe they just wanted to discover if my penis was as small as their fingers told them it was. Perhaps they wanted to be able to verify to their girlfriends just how masculinity-challenged I actually was. For whatever reasons, a few of my dates would expose my underdeveloped reproductive equipment. Because I was always nervous at that point, I tended to stay soft or get only halfway hard. They would marvel, though not in a good way, at my miniature tool. On several nights I was laughed at. Not openly and cruelly, but due to their surprise and momentary lack of control. It might just be a titter, or a chuckle. One time it was a gasp, followed by her hand covering her mouth, finishing with an unsuccessfully muffled guffaw. In the end I would always be in my apartment, alone, checking my stash of panties and deciding which ones I wanted to wear for a solitary session of masturbation. At the same time, I became somewhat obsessed with finding an alternative method of satisfying the ladies. In my desperation I bought several sex manuals; most of what I was attracted to was techniques for cunnilingus. I figured that if I was really expert at eating pussy, and if other guys weren't good at it, or might not agree to do it at all, I could gain an advantage. It would be my specialty. It wasn't much but it was all I could come up with. I would lie in bed, picturing myself with my head between the well-padded upper legs of some sexually demanding female. As I rubbed my little dick through the satiny material of one of my favorite pairs of panties, I would imagine this idealized woman's mounting excitement as I gave her extreme pleasure with my lips and tongue. Mostly tongue. In my mind I could hear her breathy words of encouragement as I skillfully guided her toward the climax of her life. I was so determined to excel in the art of oral sex that I even purchased a book of sex tips for lesbians. I mean, who would know that subject better than them? I could even envision myself as a sort of sissy/male-lesbian. Okay, I think that's all of my backstory. Hope I didn't bore you. Anyway, I continued to watch Alissa. It secretly tingled me when other guys flirted with her. A few of them even made crude jokes to her about her overly full contours. I remember one about how they couldn't wait for her to split the seat of one of her tight skirts. She just smiled tolerantly and gave back as good as she got. Her answer to that was that the guy didn't have to worry about splitting the front of his pants. Jeez, she was making a small-dick joke. It shut him up but it gave me a silent jolt of arousal. The thought of her disparaging me for having such a tiny endowment led to thoughts of being in bed with her and using my specialized techniques of muff-diving to send her over the top and win her approval and maybe even some sort of a relationship. At the time, of course, I hadn't actually tested any of those tricks I had learned. There I was, a ninja of pussy munching, without one single real-life encounter to verify the worth of my book learning. After she had been there for three months, and not gone beyond coffee in the break room with any of the guys, I decided to make my big move. I would ask her to accompany me for... coffee in the break room. Wasn't that bold of me? Under my slacks I was wearing a pair of high-cut panties, the narrow back of which kept riding up into my butt crack. Mr. Suave, that was me. To my amazed satisfaction, she accepted my mumbled invitation and then, because I had asked at the very beginning of the day, I had to wait nervously for several hours for the event to take place. Well, the event was uneventful. I paid for coffee. She wanted a pastry, which I was more than happy to provide. I imagined its considerable number of calories all migrating directly to her hips and buttocks. And I found that watching her eat was somehow erotic, seeing those plump lips move as she chewed had my heart fluttering. My dick twitched against the crotch band of the panties. I could visualize a wet spot forming on the material. We talked about television shows, always a safe topic, and I managed not to start babbling about CASTING SPELLS. We stuck with reality shows and agreed that they were kind of lowbrow but also addictive. When I quipped that maybe the commercials really were the best things on TV, she even gave me a brief smile. Then, to my shock and delight, she stated that next time we should get our coffee somewhere other than in the sterile break room, that there was a nice sandwich place a few blocks away that I could take her to someday after work. I was happily stunned. Not only did she want to be with me again, even in such a limited way, but she was taking command of the situation and telling me where I should take her. Or be taken by her. I was dazed but still managed to respond in whole sentences and accept her invitation. Or to give her the invitation she expected. Whatever. It meant I was going to have her all to myself, sort of, in public, but more privately than ever before. She said, "How about on Friday, Vick?" I had the presence of mind to recognize my own name and to answer in the affirmative. I didn't grin stupidly or begin to ramble, which were two things to avoid. I did draw our break out for an extra few minutes and then act polite as I walked her back to the workspace. As we moved past other employees, I was aware of men surreptitiously ogling her curves. I felt jealous and stimulated at the same time; all of those guys HAD to have more in their shorts than I did in my panties. On Friday I was a bundle of nerves. At the end of the day, before I could go and find Alissa, she came and got me. We took the elevator and I felt jittery because she had to stand so close to me, directly in front of me in fact, with the swell of her backside nearly making contact with my body. We strolled to the place where she had decided we would eat. As soon as we got there and a waitress took our order -- a cute little Miss who was the physical opposite of Alissa, but who displayed the same outgoing, secure attitude -- we began to chat. Well, Alissa chatted and I answered in monosyllables. She talked about what jerks men could be and that she had noticed me because I wasn't like that. When she mentioned how guys were always trying to get her into bed, and often succeeding, I felt a wave of envy, though at the same time my submissive side responded as if she was talking dirty to me. Once I found my voice I revealed where my apartment was, a little about my likes (books, movies, music), and how much I respected women. All of it was intended to make her feel like she knew me better and, I hoped, to draw attention to my docile nature. My place is in a quiet neighborhood, my tastes run toward the quieter pursuits (no sporting events or action movies), and I wasn't exaggerating about looking up to females. As I had in the break room, I enjoyed witnessing her hearty appetite and seeing how she ate with such zest. Near the end of our meal she said that she bet I was the kind of person who kept their home very neat. I admitted it was true and she surprised me by saying she'd like to see it sometime. I was instantly tongue-tied but did nod, took a long sip of coffee, and then inhaled deeply. Luckily for me, the talkative waitress reappeared and gabbed with Alissa for a few moments. Our server made a joke about guys tipping her better if she wore tight skirts. My date asked me if I was like that and I felt my cheeks get warm. I said that the service had been great and that I was a good tipper all the time. They both were amused. Alissa and I went back towards our place of employment because her car was in the parking garage below the building. I was taking a bus because I don't live that far away. She put her plump fingers on the side of my face, gave my cheek a pat, and made an air kiss. I was smitten. As she sauntered away, hips rolling, I admired her wide bottom. Then I got myself home in a hurry to make sure that my place actually was as clean and orderly as I had represented it as being. It struck me that this was one more way in which I was unlike a sloppy macho bachelor. That night I selected a pair of pink panties with a row of bows down their front because it felt like my life was about to change and I wanted to do something to celebrate. To me, in case you haven't figured it out yet, putting on pretty lingerie is preferable to cracking a beer and lighting up a cigar. We had another after-work meal a few days later and that was when Alissa reminded me that she had said she would like to see my place. I stammered out something about having dirty dishes in the sink, which wasn't even the case, and she casually said she would give me until Saturday night to wash them. Her plan was to drive there and, she said, she would bring a nice bottle of wine. I gave her my address, at the same time thinking about how she had reversed the boy-girl roles... and how much I loved that. I made a mental note not to leave any worn panties in the bathroom hamper. I mean, she MIGHT peek inside. Right? People can be nosy that way. So our first real date was on and I had something else to obsess over. I began planning a menu in my head and realized that I should tell her what I was making, so she could bring an appropriate wine. But I didn't want to sound pushy. Why would that sound pushy? I didn't know, but the possibility of me spoiling something so right was unthinkable. She arrived exactly on time and, when she buzzed my unit and I heard her voice on the speaker, I was amazed all over at my good fortune. I remotely unlocked the lobby entrance and knew she would be at my door in minutes. I reached under the waist of my slacks to be sure I had on jockey shorts, and not my usual panties. Imagine how odd that felt to me. But if, by some miracle, we started petting and my fly got lowered, it wouldn't help for her to find me in black lace undies. I had the door opened when she got off the elevator. Alissa had a bagged bottle of wine in her hand. Even something so simple as having her make a small decision like what we would drink was somehow dizzying to me. Please, I wished silently, let her continue to control the evening. She pointed out that the wine was already chilled. It was something pink, so I guessed it could go with most foods, if you weren't too fussy. I was making a light seafood dish, some baked fillets, with pan-fried potatoes (it's a terrific recipe that has you pan fry them, add seasoning, and then finish the cooking by putting the whole pan in the oven), and steamed green beans. She had me provide two glasses and opened and poured the wine herself. She sat on my couch and, when I moved toward the easy chair, she summoned me with word and a gesture to put myself alongside her. I was grateful to be so close, and the meal didn't require much attention. So for the next quarter hour we just sat and talked. I complimented her outfit, which was a loose blouse and tight slacks, along with black shoes with stacked heels that made her another few inches taller than me. She said she liked my shirt and I was instantly self-conscious because it was light blue with a dark blue pocket, and I wondered if maybe it was too unmanly. Dinner went smoothly and we returned to the couch. I was somewhat relaxed by the wine. Alissa said that my apartment was as neat as she had pictured it being. She said merrily that I would have to give her a tour of the rest of it. Was she joking? Or was it an invitation to taking our relationship to the next step? And what step were we on at present? I was granted a reprieve from worrying about that when she asked me if I had any good DVDs that we might watch. I showed her my shelf full of titles and she singled out one that starred an especially hunky male lead. Alissa referred to what a dream he was and, instead of being insulted by how much I suffered by comparison, I was tickled. As the movie started, she took hold of my arm and tugged gently, indicating that I should slide over closer to her. After I moved she gave an extra tug, so that I ended up with my small thigh pressed against her much larger and rounder one. Halfway through the picture she put her arm behind my neck and gave my shoulder a squeeze. I snuggled against her and tried to puzzle out what I should do next. The best answer I could come up with was that I should do nothing. Why take a chance of upsetting such a pleasant situation? We spent the rest of the movie like that, with my upper arm touching the outside of her soft warm breast. If that was as far as it went, I would be a happy fellow. When the picture was over we talked about it, which led to comparing opinions on some other movies. Then she locked eyes with me and said, "You were going to show me the rest of your apartment. Right?" I nodded and croaked in the affirmative. She smiled tolerantly and leaned forward to kiss me lightly on the cheek, saying, "Let's start with the bedroom." My heart went into double time. I gulped and stood up, careful to make sure my suddenly weak knees wouldn't buckle. She rose effortlessly and held out her arm, as if signaling me to move and, at the same time, telling me everything was all right. Feeling reassured, I took her hand and started toward... you know... the room with the bed in it. As soon as we were there she looked around, smiled, and sat down on the edge of the mattress. Alissa patted a spot next to her and, obedient as ever, I settled lightly where she indicated. Her arm went around me again. Her free hand came up and she cupped my chin in her plump palm, turned my face toward hers, and kissed me full on the mouth, though without any tongue. I froze. I closed my eyes and accepted it. I belatedly rubbed up against her to indicate that, yes, I was involved. Not that I was anywhere close to taking the alpha role. With nimble fingers she began to unbutton my shirt. Her hand slipped inside and she teased my nipples. I moaned. It was all happening so fast. She nibbled my ear and had me whimpering with need. My penis was hard but that didn't amount to much. I was dreading the familiar moment when my shortcomings were revealed. Her hand went to my crotch and rubbed up and down. My shirt got unbuttoned the rest of the way and she eased me onto my back, telling me to swing my legs up onto the bed. I did and she lay alongside me, kissing and nibbling my lips and nipple- teasing while I squirmed helplessly. She shushed me and said, "Open those pants up, Vick. Then we'll see what happens next." Half out of my mind with lust, half terrified of exposing my short willy, I nevertheless unbuckled my belt, unhooked the pants, and lowered the fly. She gripped my pants and shorts together and whispered to me to raise my hips. I started to say something but she closed my mouth with a forceful kiss. Feeling like I might start to cry from overwhelming gratitude and fear, I felt her work my pants down to mid-thigh. My eyes were shut and I kept them that way. Her hand went below my waist and stroked me lightly, maddeningly. Her other hand toyed with my nipples. Her lips were close to my ear as she whispered... "Not much there, baby boy. What are we going to do about that?" I took a shuddering breath and said shakily, "I can do something for you. I'll make you feel really good. I can... I know how to..." "You know how to what?" she asked mischievously. "I know how to... um... " I wanted to say 'perform cunnilingus' but that sounded so clinical. So I finished with, "... how to eat pussy." "That's so nice. No dick but a talented tongue. I can live with that." She sat up and removed her shoes, stood and got out of her slacks, making a show of it, giving me a good look at her large but shapely rear end. I wanted to weep from joy, she was so desirable. And I had gotten past the issue of my tiny member. With my prepared solution. Still wearing her top, Alissa lay back down and parted her legs. She pointed to her crotch and I began to move, putting myself on my knees and bringing my face close to the juncture of her thighs. I extended my virgin tongue and took a lick, exalting in the taste and feel of her most intimate place. My extensive reading served me well as I unhurriedly served her, lapping and sucking and probing, glorying in the way she responded. My date purred and wriggled and patted the back of my head. She murmured encouragement and grew noticeably wetter. It went on and on. Her thighs pressed against the sides of my head as she neared her climax. I slowed down to prolong her enjoyment. She played with my ears. Then Alissa started to mount toward and orgasm again. This time I didn't reduce my tempo. Instead I increased it, pushing her into the final stages and making her cum. Her hips bucked and she cried out. My tongue worked energetically. She peaked and began to subside. At last she was still and silent. Then she sighed and I gave her pussy a final kiss. Afterwards she continued to direct our evening, having me fetch her another glass of wine, but telling me not to get any for myself. I was allowed to lie next to her and cuddle, but somehow knew that I wasn't expected to do anything for my own enjoyment. Instead, I just stayed there and basked in what, to me, was a great accomplishment. Alissa told me that we should see more of each other and I readily agreed, though I did it in a small voice, the one that I heard myself using in my head when I was wearing panties. We began to see each other twice a week, following much the same pattern. I certainly didn't mind. And there were always subtle variations. Sometimes she would tease me extensively before I served her. Or she would have me rub her back and massage her legs first. Beforehand we might shower together, which elevated my needs to new heights. She would kid me sweetly about my undersized penis and I would take it all good- naturedly. All through that period I kept giving reassurances, making suggestions, and dropping hints, all of it to take me closer to my goal of being her sissy lover, a slave to her needs. I told her my fulfillment wasn't important, offered to apply body lotion to her, and mentioned that my inadequacies should be punished. That last one I did in a kidding way, not wanting to scare her off. She took it without getting upset, and even gave me a few swats on the fanny, an occasional nipple twist, a warning nip to the earlobe. It was marvelous. I stayed hard, my embarrassment on display, and dripped pre-cum. After using my mouth on her I would stay down there, giving her feather-soft flicks of my tongue. Then, after I judged that enough time had passed and sufficient progress been made, I said, trying to sound innocent, that since I behaved like a lesbian lover, maybe she should put me into panties. Alissa hesitated thoughtfully for several seconds before saying it was a good idea. "You get some sexy panties and we'll see if I like the way they look." Naturally, I had a selection of them right there in the bedroom, in my dresser. Not that I could go over there and take a handful for her to choose from. No, I maintained the light and easy tone when I said I would do it, and reinforced the thought that this was a good thing by slipping down far enough to nuzzle her pussy. She liked that and it led to me licking and sucking her. A few days later, when she visited again, no mention was made of the panties. Had she forgotten? When I originally said it, had I made it sound too lighthearted, not serious at all. I sweated out the evening and then, as she was getting dressed to leave, she gave me a penetrating gaze. "Weren't you supposed to buy yourself some pretty panties, my boy-lezzie? Did you forget? Am I going to have to punish you?" "Oh... no. I remembered. I'm sorry I didn't mention it earlier. I'll get them. But maybe you should punish me for waiting so long to say anything." She gave me a smirking smile as I went to the dresser. I had gone to a lingerie shop in a nearby mall, even though all of my past purchases had been from a place further away, where I could feel more anonymous. I had made a purchase just so I would have a bag with their name on it, and a dated receipt which I could leave in plain sight to give myself a cover story. I held up the filmy bit of underwear, a translucent pair of strawberry-colored panties, full-cut, with matching bows on the waist elastic at each hip. I had wanted something very girly, but not so much so that it would arouse suspicion that I had been buying lingerie all along. Alissa didn't comment. She just grinned and waggled her fingers to suggest that I should get moving. I was already naked (because she had told me to stay that way after our visit to the bedroom) so I simply had to slide them up my legs. I had been trimming my slight amount of pubic hair, and shaving what little grew on my thighs. Once I had the garment on, the effect was impressive. The crotch of them was opaque, so my equipment was hidden, and I'm so small down there that it created almost no bulge. Alissa had me tuck myself down and that minimal sign of maleness vanished. I stood there appearing quite female from the waist down. "Very nice," she said approvingly. "You should wear those all the time when I'm here." I had to catch my breath. Another of my wishes had come true. First I found myself sexually enslaved to a dominating woman, and now she wanted me to stay in panties. But that wasn't all. "Later on," she added, "I might have to take you shopping for some more girlfriend pretties to wear for me." In a voice weak with the need to submit, I said, "Yes, Alissa. Yes, Ma'am." I paused briefly and then reminded her, "And I believe I'm due for some punishment. For not telling you when you first arrived that I had these panties." I bit my lips and then dared to add, "I really do deserve whatever you decide to do to me." "You deserve it? I agree. But what do you think it should be... for such a naughty, panty-wearing..." She let it hang there, the thought uncompleted, and I couldn't resist offering, "... sissy? Panty-wearing sissy?" Alissa chuckled. "Sissy. I like the sound of that. So what do you think I should do to you... Miss Sissy? What, Vick? Or should I make it 'Vicky'?" Vicky? She had given me a girl name. I had never thought to do that on my own. Guess I'd been closeted even from myself in some ways. I took a bracing breath and thanked her for inviting my input, trying not to get carried away, but enthralled by the chance to participate at that level. I crossed my arms limply over my chest and pressed my thighs together, aware of how vulnerable it made me appear. In a whisper I said, "Maybe you should... spank me. Or make me kiss your lovely bottom. Or put lipstick on my mouth the next time I eat your pussy." Alright, Vick, I told myself, don't go too far. But then the Vicky part of me had to blurt out, sounding appropriately scared, "Or maybe all three." Alissa snickered. "You've really gotten yourself into a fix, haven't you?" I lowered my eyes, trying to look remorseful. Alissa did have those old control issues with the male gender, even though they didn't apply to me. Still, they were the kinds of feelings that tended to find a way to work themselves out, even if it wasn't entirely rational. She got a glint in her eyes and grinned wolfishly. Our evening, instead of being at an end, was far from over. What a turnaround. Her voice was thick with passion as she said, "I like you. And I don't want to be mean. But you have earned some... discipline." It sounded like she enjoyed the feel of that word in her mouth. "And I'm the one to administer that discipline. You are going to get all three of those punishments, but not in that order. Let's get some lipstick on your first. Bring me my shoulder bag." I meekly rushed off to the living room and returned with it. She dug around inside and produced two tubes from an inner pocket. With a bent finger she signaled me to come closer. I had to stand right in front of her, still nude except for the panties, my almost hairless, unmanly form shown off. Alissa set the cosmetics aside and reached out to finger my nipples. She teased them until I was writhing with need. As a matter of self-denial and as a sacrifice to her, I hadn't jerked off since our first real date. Now I was as horny as I could be. She might have assumed I was giving myself relief. I don't know. But she couldn't miss how much her practiced touch was driving me to distraction. After I was thoroughly worked up, she made me stand still while she applied a generous coat of bright red to my mouth. Then she took the second tube and covered my lips with shiny gloss. When she told me to go to the bathroom and check it in the mirror, I was jolted by what an extreme change it made in my appearance. Maybe I should have been playing with make-up all along. "Now," she wanted to know, "where should I give you your spanking?" Cleverly, she was making me share in the administration of my own discipline. It made me feel even more chained to her will. I pointed wordlessly to the ladder-backed chair of dark wood in the corner. She snapped at me to get it for her. As I crossed the room it dawned on me that I might have awakened something deep inside her that was more than I had anticipated. As they say, be careful what you wish for. With no other choice, I brought her the chair and set it exactly where she pointed. Then she sat and patted her broad lap. I looked at her desirable thighs longingly before I draped myself over them. It was strangely erotic to be in that position, especially because of my secret desire to be ruled over. I lay there while she put one hand on the small of my back. Alissa had me inch forward. She let her palm brush over my smooth, barely covered, pink butt-cheeks, as if testing the territory before acting. I licked my lips nervously. Up went her arm. She held it poised. I braced myself. Her hand landed hard, with a loud smack, and the effort was repeated over and over. I squealed and kicked, like a schoolgirl I'm afraid. Well, not really afraid. In fact, Alissa said, "Who's a bad girl? Who's a bad sissy girl?" I whimpered, "I am. I'm a bad girl." Then she wanted to know, "Who's my little pussy slave? Who wants lick me?" Trying not to cry, but already sniffling, I managed to gasp out, "I'm your slave. I want to lick you pussy." She chortled and gave me another dozen swats, showing no sympathy. My backside was blazing and I was blinking back tears. She had me get up and stand before her, first facing away so she could admire her handiwork, then turned toward her so she could lock eyes with me. "So," she said, "Vicky is a bad girl and wants to lick my pussy. Well, after all the fun I just had, I'm ready for another orgasm. Not that you didn't do a good job earlier, sweetie, but turning your fanny red has got me SO turned on. Get down on your knees, Vicky." I told her, "Yes Ma'am," and hurried to obey. She spread her legs and tugged up her short skirt. I was staring at the crotch of her panties, which was visibly damp. She took hold of my longish hair (I had been letting it grow for a while) and pulled my face between her heavy thighs. Without being told to, I fervently kissed the front of her panties, over and over, while she purred with enjoyment. Then she stood, took me by the ear and pulled me to my feet, and walked me to the bedroom. I had to undress her from the waist down. She really did enjoy having me exposed while she was still half covered. It pointed out who was in control. I carefully removed her panties and she laid back on the bed, legs spread. I got into position and was soon busy, delighted to be able to serve her, cautious not to let my enthusiasm make me rush. I took my time and gave her a quaking climax, but didn't stop after that. I simply slowed down and gauged her desires based on my experience. I sensed that Alissa still had another finish in her, so I moved my tongue a bit faster. She responded favorably, echoing my rhythm with her wide hips. I was in submissive paradise as I prolonged her pleasure, at the same time making my cherished fantasy last longer too. It was wonderful and she had a second orgasm, smaller than the first but still good enough to make her get wetter. When she was done I stayed there, gently kissing her sated pussy, expecting nothing in return. "Very good," she murmured. "Get me the rest of the way undressed. I'm too used up to drive home. I'll sleep here tonight." My heart leaped. I tenderly got her out of the rest of her clothes and hung everything up neatly. Then I dared to get back onto the bed, this time alongside her, a position I wasn't often in. She sleepily toyed with my nipples, getting me overexcited and then leaving me unfulfilled. I thanked her and we went to sleep. ****** The next morning she declared that I was due for another punishment, because I had 'seduced' her. I knew it was a trumped up charge, but had no intention of objecting. Punish me all you please, Alissa. And if it gets you excited, I'll be right there to be your bed slave. I just hope you'll put lipstick on me again whenever you want me to use my mouth on you. It was a Saturday and she decided to take me on that shopping trip. We went to the local mall, where I was treated to several more pairs of panties and a filmy short nightie. Treated with my own credit card. The salesgirls could see that none of what we bought would fit Alissa, so they may have surmised who was going to wear it. My blushing probably added to that conclusion. We returned to my place and she had me model the nightie, along with a pair of panties in a complimentary color. Baby pink and cotton candy pink. Oh my. She made up my face, going beyond just lipstick to use mascara and rouge and a touch of shadow to bring out my cheekbones. I was stunned by the transformation. She had me model my new look and teased me visually with her body, and physically with her hands, all the while whispering naughty suggestions about making me remain as her 'girlfriend' and conditioning me to the point where I would do anything she said. Not that it would take much to get me there. I mean, even the thought of her going past what I considered my limits no longer scared me. I trusted her totally. The weekend went by like that, with us browsing fashions on-line, checking out blogs that feature TG captions, and me reading out loud some fiction on the site StoryPhilia, by a writer who used the name Royal Seat. She promised me lots more of the same, also warning me that I had a propensity for naughtiness and would be punished frequently. I wasn't going to argue with that. I meekly agreed and even said, trying to sound scared, that I hoped she wouldn't make me kiss her bottom. Alissa's face remained inscrutable as she thought about that. Had she picked up my true desire? She turned and, in just panties and a bra, pointed to the bulging hemispheres of her gorgeous rear end. I wordlessly knelt and placed a humble kiss on each of her buttocks. She looked back at me and smiled wickedly. Where else will our relationship go? I can't say. But not that many weeks ago, I barely dared to hope that she would have coffee with me. And now look how far we've come. I'd have to say that I've won everything I hoped for. Should I tell her that this is what I wanted all along? Or does she already know? What do YOU think? ****** (In her thoughtful review of the second part of DOUG'S NEW LIFE, reader Vicky suggested that I could have a feminized guy secretly enjoying himself in one of my stories. This effort is partly the result of that comment. Thank you, Vicky. Hope you don't mind that I borrowed your name.)