a ing the Bride
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Interview With A Bride free porn video
Interview With a Bride
By Cassandra Morgan
"Well, Kim, you're certainly pretty enough. But do you think I have room in
my family for every sissy in the city?"
I folded my hands into my lap. I didn't say anything. I stared at the
floor.
"No, Mistress," I said. "Just room enough for me."
Anita smiled softly. She always had a soft spot for a new sissy. It was a
weakness. She liked new. New lips. New attitudes. New flesh.
But this one was different. She had come on her own, bright and bold and
audacious. She was fairly new to dressing - Anita was sure of it by the way
she walked in her heels - but she wasn't shy. Her black dress was elegant.
He nails were understated but pretty. Her wig was shorter than a lot of the
sissies liked, but it was a sassy cut that suited her.
Anita had been in her office, surfing the computer, when the doorbell rang.
At first, she was sure Flower would get it. Maybe Phyllis. But it kept
ringing, and she remembered that she had sent her sissies - Thing One and
Thing Two - to the market to pick up fruit. Fruits for fruit.
She descended the staircase and opened the door, and there stood a young
woman, a pretty brunette. Ah, but there was something about her that told
Anita it was't a her.
"Hello?" Anita said.
"Hello, ma'am," the visitor replied. "I was hoping to take a few
minutes..."
"I'm sorry, but we don't accept solicitations," Anita said. "We don't buy
from door-to-door salesmen."
"Oh, it isn't like that." the girl said. "I'd just like to talk to you."
Anita looked at her. Something in her seemed to twitch. "Very well, then,"
she said. "Won't you come in?"
She walked into the foyer, looking around the grand home. A staircase
ascended on each side of the room. A chandelier dangled over expensive tile
in the foyer.
"Come this way," she said. "We'll talk in the den."
She went through a door next to the right stairway and into an elegant
room. I followed her, keeping at a proper distance behind her.
"Would you care for tea?" Anita asked.
"No...no, thank you, ma'am."
"Well, sit, my dear. And tell me, what's on your mind."
"Thank you ma'am," I said. I sat carefully on a velvet couch. "It's very
nice for you to receive me."
She nodded slightly. She sat in the big chair in the center of the room. It
looked like a throne.
She made a circular motion with her finger for me to proceed. There was no
wasted time with this one, I thought. She was in command all the time, just
like they said. She was regal.
"Mistress Anita," I began softly. "You are a Mistress, I'm told?"
"And who is telling you things, Munchkin? Hmmm?"
I looked at the floor. "A ... friend of mine," I said. "Phyllis. She's yours,
I believe."
"Yes, Phyllis. Darling girl. How do you know Phyllis?"
"She's...my patient," I said. "I'm a psychiatrist, Mistress. Just like her.
I'm Kim...Tim Ryan. And I interviewed her when she turned. She was still
struggling with her transformation. She was finding it difficult, as I
recall."
"All journeys are not the same, Munchkin. You don't mind if I call you
that, do you? I adore pet names. I know about Phyllis' journey. I would
like to hear about your own."
I looked into her eyes. There were answers there. There was knowledge.
There was the world.
"After Phyllis came to me," I began slowly, "I was fascinated by the
knowledge of your word. I read about submission, about bondage, about
transvestite fiction. I rented as many movies as I could about cross-
dressing. It was as if I had caught a virus from Phyllis. I told myself it
was just research, but it wasn't. Oh, I know I'm not a true transvestite.
Most of those start as children. But the thought of being someone's sub,
someone's sissy, is a magnet to my soul."
"So you began to wear the clothing?"
"Yes ma'am," I said, looking into her wonderful face. "I began with
panties. I wore them every day. I adored them from the first. They were
heaven. I bought a dress. Then a bra. I guess I should have bought the bra
first. Hose. Heels. Hair. Lipstick. Before you know it, I was spending my
weekends en femme. I took to it, I guess you would say?"
Anita smiled. She had heard so many of these stories, of men who would
rather be women, of men who found the world just a little too big for them.
They all wanted the right man to take them away from this. Or the right
woman, in this case.
"Phyllis fought me," Anita said. "Only now is she accepting her nature."
"I never understood that," I said. "This makes me happy, so why not be
happy? Phyllis was so...solemn all of the time. It was like she was in an
ocean over her head. Me? I was going for a swim."
I smiled at her analogy. It was true. Phyllis was somber. She acted as if I
had trapped her into this. But the door was never locked. I knew she went
to see Ryan that day. Of course I knew. I had a tracking device in her
purse. But my sissies can leave any time they wish. That's part of the
deal. They aren't prisoners. Well, except for the handcuff evenings, that
is.
"I'm very glad you have adapted so well, Kim," I finally said. "I'm not
sure if you're a trans girl or a sissy. I'm sure some Mistress will beg
thrilled to find out. I can see it in your eyes. But, as you know, I have
two already. How big a staff do you think I need?"
"Very big, Mistress. This is a huge house. You must find a need for more
working hands."
"You speak of what I need, Kim," Anita said. "But aren't you really
speaking of what you need?"
I glanced downward again. I picked at my nails.
"I guess I am," I finally said. "That's why I wanted this interview. To
apply for a job as one of your maids. And to do ... everything else you may
desire."
Anita shifted in her seat. "Everything?" she said.
"Everything," I said.
"You know I have a very large, very wide sexual appetite," Anita said.
"Does that offend you?"
"It excites me."
"Really? If I punish you, does that excite you? If I have you sleep with
me? If I cage your cock? If I have you drink urine."
I blushed. "Whatever Mistress wishes," I whispered.
"What family do you have, Kim."
"My parents, back in Delaware.My sister in upstate New York. My brother in
Atlanta. A few cousins."
I nodded. "And you would have your sissy sisters. Flower and Phyllis."
"Yes," I smiled. "That would be nice. I've never met Flower."
Mistress studied me for a moment. She seemed to have a thought.
"Have you ever sucked Phyllis' cock?" I asked sweetly.
"Ma'am? No ma'am," I said.
"Well, you will," Anita said. "A wife always sucks her husband's cock."
"A wife?"
"Yes, Munchkin. I have decided that I do what three little maids, just like
the Japanese play. But only if two of them are married. You and Phyllis
have known each other for years. You're friends. I can imagine what a
wonderful wedding we will have with all of your friends and family. And
what a wonderful wedding night you will have. I must get that on film!"
I was dazed. Married? To Phil? In theory, yes, I was willing to sleep with
a man. In my mind, I could have taken his penis into my rear and enjoyed it
very much. In concept, I would have kissed him and held him and loved him.
But it felt different with someone I knew.
And who got the be the wife?
Dammit, it better be me.
"If that is what you desire," I said.
"It is. And we always give Mistress what she wants, right?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said.
Anita sat back in her chair and began to plan. Would she have them marry as
gay men? Or as gay women? Who would officiate the wedding? Would she give
the bride away? Is it customary to fuck the bride? And do both of them wear
white?
As ideas go, this one was inspired. You had it all. You had the sex. You
have the voyeurism of seeing two men. You had cross-dressing. You had the
humiliation of having the families there. You had the servitude of gaining
an extra maid. You had the possibility of spanking because...well, there
was always the possibility of spankings, weren't there?
Anita began to hum. Here comes the bride.
***
The ensuing weeks were a blur, as they often are for the intended.
Phyllis was a grump, as usual, when she heard that she was getting married.
While Tim had been her shrink, she really didn't have that much respect for
him. Now, they were going to be legally married to each other. They were
going to wake up next to each other forever.
Flower? Now, Flower, Phyllis could have married. Flower was exquisite. She
was so soft, so feminine. The perfect sissy. Better than me, Phyllis
admitted. Tim. Tim was a guy she knew.
And that was the difference. Phyllis thought of Flower as feminine. She
thought of Kim as Tim, as a man.
She had protested. Mistress hadn't liked that, and she had slept on the
floor because of it. Hell, Kim wouldn't even be a sissy if Phyllis hadn't
gone to her. Fucking copycat. They wouldn't have given blow jobs to those
NBA players if not for her.
And now, here she was, licking Mistress's ass. Flower was behind her, her
tiny dick in Phyllis's ass. Where was Kim? Munchkin, Mistress called her.
Probably sucking some strange dick.
Soon enough, Phyllis thought, it would be hers.
***
They were in the bridal shop, looking at dresses. Mistress had decided that
both of them would wear dresses. It would be more embarrassing to be seen
that way. Besides, wedding dresses are so much prettier than tuxedos.
Kim came out of the dressing room with a long, flowing sleeveless dress.
Flower bounced and clapped her hands. "You are so pretty, Munchkin," she
said. "You were born to be a bride!"
Kim blushed.
Phyllis looked at her, and damn, she was pretty. Yes, I'd rather marry
Flower, she thought, but don't all brides look radiant? She felt her penis
twitch inside its cage.
"Are you sure?" Kim asked. "Wouldn't this look better on Phyllis?"
"No," Flower said. "This one is you. We'll find Phyllis her gown, and it
will be lovely. I'm so glad to be the maid-of-honor for you both."
Anita smiled at the scene. "That's because you get to fuck them both," she
said.
Flower giggled.
Another customer, nearby, gasped at what she had heard. Were these men?
Were they women? The big one might have been a guy. But not the other two.
"Would you like a turn?" Anita said, smiling. "We're having a special
today. Three for a dollar."
The women rushed out of the shop.
Anita laughed.
"You should be a bride," I said to Flower.
She smiled. "You know I love Mistress," she said. "Why would I marry a man
just to cuckold him? make him watch while Mistress fucked me silly. Make
him get hard while she took my ass? That would be silly?"
I laughed.
But I also thought that I would like to watch.
* **
"I don't get it, Tim. Please explain it to me again."
The older woman sat across from Kim at Jernigan's, a bistro on the East
Side. She was stately, maybe in her early 60s. Her graying hair was swept
up onto her head. Her jewelry was elegant.
I was wearing a jade green dress and dangling earrings. My heels were
black. My lipstick was dark. Yep, I was just what a mother wanted in her
son.
"I'm getting married, mom," I said.
"...to a man."
"Yes, mom."
"...but you're not gay?"
"No ma'am. Not technically."
"Not technically? Do you suck his dick or what?"
"Mom!"
"Well, do you?"
"Not yet, mom. I will, I'm sure."
"...and you're going to wear a dress?"
"Yes, mom."
"...but you're not a transvestite."
"No, mom. Not technically."
My mother shook her head. She sighed deeply.
"My son is my daughter, and she's marrying a man, and she's going to give
him blow jobs, but there is nothing wrong with any of it. What? Are you
going to marry a chicken?
"Mom!"
"I'm sorry. But you have every color of the rainbow here, sweetie. Why
don't you just say you're a homo and be done with it? It's 2015, after
all."
"Mom, if it helps you, you can think of me as gay, okay? I'm Liberace. I'm
Elton John. I'm Johnny Weir. Deal?"
"Calm down, dear. I just would have preferred a son who slept with women."
"I do, mom. I sleep with Mistress Anita sometimes."
"Oh, for God's sake." She rolled her eyes.
"And Flower is kind of girlish. I sleep with her sometimes."
"You are all going straight to hell," she said. "This whole wedding is so
gay it should be held at the Vatican."
I couldn't help myself. I laughed at that. I reached out and took her hand.
"I love you, mom."
"I love you, too, sweetie. But if I had a dick, would you love me more?"
* * *
That night, I was alone in my bed. Phyllis was in her own bed, saving
herself for our wedding night. We were allowed to kiss, but that was it.
She couldn't even touch my budding breasts without being spanked.
I wondered why Mistress hadn't come up with a pet name for Phyllis. She
deserved one, too. It would make her seem softer, more feminine. Let's see.
She could be Starlight. No, too much like a hippy. How about Twinkles?
Sparkles? Squirrel?
I lay thinking. I kind of liked Squirrel.
I closed my eyes. Six was going to come early.
Then the door opened, and someone slid inside.
They lifted the covers, then snuggled next o me.
My neck was kissed, and an arm snaked around my side. I knew that arm. I
loved that arm.
"Hello, Mistress," I said.
"Hi Munchkin," she said. "I missed you."
I kissed her, and all was right with the world. Her lips had such a calming
affect on me. It told me that everything would be okay. The embarrassment
was worth it. The humiliation was worth it. The work was worth it.
She held me, and I felt her hands wander lower. I smiled. Mistress wanted
to play. How delightful.
Her right hand caressed my butt softly. Then it it began to probe. Thank
God she kept her nails short. He pushed her finger, no fingers, into me
deeply. I moaned.
"Will you lick me, my pet."
"When have I ever said no to you, Mistress?" I responded.
She shifted in the bed. She climbed on top of me - she was always on top -
and settled on my face. I adjusted slightly to breathe easier. She began to
rock on me. She grabbed my hair. It was going to be a wild ride.
I glanced on the pillow next to me. She had the Stroker with her, an
oversized strap-on dildo. Mistress had come for business. She was going to
make me purr.
Kitten. That would be a great nickname for Phyllis.
* * *
I always hated getting out of bed. I especially hated it on those nights
Mistress slept in my bed.
I slid out, kissing her knuckles. I padded across the room and pulled at
maid's dress out of the closet. I eased open a drawer and took out panties
and a bra.
This was what I wore. I no longer boinged to full erection when I slid my
hose over my legs. The naughty thrill had given way to the daily feelings
of normalcy. I now wore a bra because, thank god, I need a bra. I wore
panties because they were the only underwear I had.
I slipped into the bathroom before turning on the light. I dressed quietly,
pulling my black dress on, zipping it up. I stepped into my petticoats. I
put the apron on.
The makeup took longer. I still struggled a bit with my eyes. The hair was
easy. I wore it up when I was in my maid uniform.
Taking the heels in my hands, I made my way downstairs. I never wore shoes
when Mistress slept. I didn't want to wake her up.
I walked into the kitchen, and Phyllis was there already.
"Hello, fiance," I said softly.
"Hi sweetheart," she said. She leaned in and kissed me, quickly at first,
then longer. "Will you put the coffee on. I'll get the omelettes."
I let my hands linger. I looked at her. A girl could do better for a
husband, I thought. Or a wife. She was smart. She was pretty enough. She
was too serious for her own good, but maybe I was too playful.
"What?" she said.
"I love you," I said. "My Kitten."
She smiled at that.
"I love you, too. I really do. I wish Mistress would let me show you how
much."
I touched her hand. "A million times, you will show me. And I'll show you a
million and one."
"You know, I've never even seen your cock," Phyllis said.
"It's a cock," I said. "They pretty much look the same."
"Oh, no," Phyllis said. "They're like snowflakes.Some are curved. Some are
thick. Some are long. Some are circumcised. Flowers' is itty-bitty. She's
a AAA battery."
I laughed. "Even her boobs are small," I said. "Not like my baby's." I
touched her breasts.
"None of that, you tart," Phyllis said, slapping at my hands."Remember, I'm
a virgin."
"You are?"
"Well, it's been so long, I think I've healed," she said, grinning.
These were our best moments, these empty pockets of time that fell in
between our work moments. Phyllis really was sweet. She wasn't as soft as
Flower, or as naive as I am. But she was a good woman, a good sissy. I
really had fallen in love with her.
There were times I wonder what would have happened if we had gotten
together when we were two men. Would we have been gay lovers? Would we be
two of those guys you see at the art shows, brushing their hands against
each other when they think no one notices.
Phil had been married. Miriam, her name was. Did his sexual orientation
have anything to do with their breakup? Was he destined to be a sissy all
along?
It was funny. We were both men, technically. We were both dressed as women.
We were both sissies.
We suffered the same spankings, the same degradations. We had given blow
jobs side by side. We had eaten the same women. We had knelt at the same
glory holes. Mistress had branded us with the same tattoos - Daisy Duck's
three nieces: April, May and June. Being the newest member, I had June.
Standing here in the kitchen, though, it didn't seem so kinky. My life felt
normal. I was a girl in love with another girl.
And her Mistress.
And her other sissy.
And myself.
* * *
Our wedding day was a cool, sunny day in early April.
I moved around the church yard, greeting guests, exchanging air kisses.
Miriam, Phil's ex-wife was there. She has a crooked smile on her face, as
if she was dying to say something.
"Hello, Kim," she said. "I hear they call you Munchkin now?"
"Yes, some do," I said. "I'm glad you could come."
"Oh, I love weddings. Gay weddings are so wonderful. I'm so glad Phil found
a man."
"Do you think of me as a man, Miriam?"
"Shouldn't I?"
"Oh, I don't care," I said. "Your husband thinks of me enough that way. You
might as well."
I walked away as Miriam's husband started to protest. Like I said, it's a
virus. Flower gave it to Phyllis, and she gave it me, and now I gave it to
Steven. I bet he would look good in a bra.
I walked toward the church, and there she was. My Phyllis. She had a more
full wedding gown, with sleeves and pearl embroidery. I smiled.
"We aren't supposed to be seeing each other," Phyllis said. "It's bad
luck."
"What's bad luck to a sissy?" I said. "Extra wrinkles in the ironing? Come
here, Kitten."
She leaned forward and kissed me.
"You know, when our marriage was arranged by Mistress, I didn't like it,"
Phyllis said. "I didn't like a lot of things in those days. I wanted Flower
instead."
I looked across the courtyard. There was Flower with Mistress, fussing with
her hair. "Flower is great," I said. "Everyone loves Flower."
"But you know what?" Phyllis said. "She isn't you. She doesn't have your
depth, your intelligence. I love you. And I'll love you on my cock
tonight."
I smiled. "It's a date," I said.
Soon, I would be a married woman. Oh, Mistress would still stop by. And
Flower. And the odd partner that Mistress would bring home. We would never
been the couple from American Gothic. Our sex lives would be filled with
assorted partners to make us feel good for the moment. But our hearts were
each other's. I would never say no when she wanted to peg me. Or when she
wanted me to peg her. We were a family within a family. If outsiders could
not understand that, well, tough.
To me, it was like wearing a dress. No one seemed to get the way sissies
embraced femininity. It started as a humiliation by Mistress. But it grew
into a self-awareness. I put on a dress, and I was rejecting all that I had
been, all that people know me as.
It is a journey, sissihood. In the beginning, you sucked cocks for the
enjoyment of your Mistress. In the end, it was about your enjoyment. You
did chores because Mistress demanded it. You ended up doing them as
validation of your self-worth. You grew breasts because they marked you to
the world. You ended up loving them because they validated life.
This is what growth is. This is what acceptance means. I am a sissy. I
could care less what you think, or what my mother things, or what Phil's
ex-wife thinks.
I think it's wonderful.
The music started. Time for us to get backstage. Time for my Mistress, the
one who arranged all of this, who somehow knew what our destiny was, to
walk me down the aisle. Time for the crowd to get into the church. I looked
up and saw my family. I saw all my old friends. And none of them mattered.
Not really.
Phyllis.
She mattered.
Ofelia
- 04.09.2020
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