Sissy Sister Sitters
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Sorority Sister Sissy Sitters free porn video
SORORITY SISTER SISSY SITTERS by Throne
Kevin was very uneasy. He knew his wife Petra was going out for the
evening and she had hinted at making some special arrangement to deal
with him. What else could she do? After discovering his habit of
dressing girly when she wasn't around, she had used it against him.
Whenever he was home now he had to wear the most shameful outfits she
could think of. For instance, at the moment, he had on a sleeveless
gingham top, the halves of which tied in front and left his tummy
bare. That was accompanied by bikini-cut panties in thin soft
material that was made to look like denim, complete with faux
stitching. On his legs were white thigh-high socks with red hearts
all over them. When he got into feminine clothes he wanted to look
sophisticated. Little black dresses, pearls, and attractive heels.
Instead, she made him appear slutty.
His thoughts were interrupted as she came into the kitchen, where he
was dutifully washing up the dinner dishes, with big yellow rubber
gloves on his hands. Petra was of average height, with a nice figure.
She had on a tasteful outfit that was something he would have
preferred for himself. It was almost as if she was mocking his
inability dress the way he wished.
"Hello, Karen," she said with a sneer in her voice. "That's a good
look for you. Very roadside tavern. I can picture you flirting with
big sweaty guys at the bar."
He knew better than to object and just said, "Yes, dear."
"And it certainly shows off how smooth and hairless your body is. If
you keep using that laser tool I got you, you might just become
permanently smooth all over. But you don't want to look manly anyway.
I found that out when I caught you all dolled up. It really bothered
me that you were keeping secrets. Still, all's well that ends with
you as my personal sissy. The sex is better now that we substitute
your tongue for that tiny excuse for a cock between your legs. And I
love having someone to do all the housework and wait on me, too."
"Yes, Petra. Thank you."
"But I worry that whenever I go out with my girlfriends, you might get
into some mischief. Rummaging around in my closet and dresser to play
with my clothes. Maybe even playing with yourself, even though I
forbade it. You eat my pussy so much better when you're desperately
horny." She smiled at her memory of the night before. "So that's why
I've found a way to keep an eye on you."
What did she mean? Had security cameras been installed around the
house? Little ones that he couldn't see? Or was she going to make him
write down what he was doing every ten minutes? Those were the types
of possibilities he was imagining. When she revealed the truth, it
was something much worse. He put the last dish in the drainer and
removed his rubber gloves.
"I found a special service on-line," she explained. "It's a group of
college coeds who sit with sissies like you and monitor their
behavior. Like babysitters. And they have -- activities -- to occupy
you. I'm sure it will be better than letting you have time to
yourself. Don't you agree?"
Of course he didn't. Kevin felt sick at the thought of anyone else
seeing him in his humiliating outfit. He involuntarily hugged himself
and pressed his thighs together.
All he said to his wife was, "Whatever you think is best, darling."
Seeing his body language, she gave him a crooked smile that conveyed
so much. Then she got her handbag and headed for the door. Before
she got there they both heard a car pull up out front. Kevin's
stomach fluttered. A moment later the doorbell rang. Petra opened it
and said hello. As she stepped aside, a tall young woman in a stylish
trench coat entered. She had blond hair in a long ponytail and her
feet were in athletic shoes. Everything else was concealed. Kevin
stood in the hallway, trying not to be noticed.
Petra said, "Right on time. I appreciate that. Don't like to leave
my Karen by herself. I'm afraid she's not trustworthy. Might sneak
around and start wearing my panties, leaving pecker tracks in them
like she used to do."
The girl smiled. "We know the type. I'm Marty. You can go out and
be as late getting back as you please. Have a fun Friday night. No
problem. And is that your sissy husband I see cowering over there?"
"That's Karen," she confirmed. At her spouse she snapped, "Come in
here, girl. Let Marty see you up close."
Mortified beyond anything he'd experienced before, Kevin came into the
room. He was biting his lips and lowering his gaze. Marty set down
an overnight bag she'd been carrying and went up to him, put her hand
under his beardless chin, and raised his face so she could lock eyes
with him.
"Aren't you the pretty one," she said with a smirk. "Even if you are
a bit trashy. I'm sure the two of us will have a wonderful time
together." Adding a hint of threat to her voice, she asked, "Don't
you agree?"
Despite a lump in his throat, Kevin managed to respond, "Yes. Um...
Marty."
"I prefer Miss Marty. Can you remember that, Princess?"
"I think so," he told her in a strained whisper. "Miss Marty."
"Good. We'll get along terrifically." She winked at him. "Even if I
have to be mean when it comes to keeping you in line."
"I understand, Miss Marty."
The tall girl made a show of unbuttoning and removing her coat.
Underneath she had on a cheerleader uniform. It was well fitted to
her curvaceous figure. She had a full bust, narrow waist, and flaring
hips. Her bare legs were shapely and firmly muscled. She crossed her
arms under her heavy breasts and gave him a challenging look. Kevin's
narrow shoulders sagged and he clutched his hands together. She
nodded at his submissive posture and patted him on the head.
To Petra she said, "I'm sure you have to get going. Please don't
worry about little Karen. I'm going to take especially good care of
her. I know exactly how to treat deceitful sissy husbands like this
one." She looked at him and added in a disapproving tone, "Keeping
secrets about your dirty hobby. No, no, no."
Petra gave him a devilish gloating smile, threw a kiss his way, and
left. Kevin could only stand there, feeling utterly vulnerable in
front of the capable coed.
She retrieved her bag and said, "Show me the bedroom, Karen. I'm
going to make your face and hair as sexy as the rest of you."
He nervously ran his fingers through his collar-length, chestnut
locks. Then he turned and started toward the bedroom. As his wife
always insisted, he walked like a girl, rolling his hips and letting
his arms hang loose at his sides.
"Pull back those weak shoulders," Marty insisted. "Stick out your
chest. Let me see how proud you are to be a pansy."
As they entered the bedroom, she set her bag on the bed and opened it.
Inside were cosmetics, hair products, combs and brushes. There were
also a sorority paddle, cuffs, and other items whose purpose he didn't
want to guess. Marty had him sit on the edge of the mattress, in a
spot where there was good light on his face. She went to work with
foundation, eye make-up, false lashes, shadow, and lipstick. Then she
started on his hair, fussing over it before using products to give it
more body and keep it in place, as well as something to lighten it.
While she did all that she stood between him and the dresser mirror
opposite. After she was done and satisfied with the results, she
stepped aside.
Sitting there, Kevin saw himself made over as he had never been
before. The transformation was shocking. He had never used cosmetics
on his face or anything on his hair, for fear of it being detected
later when he was back to looking like a man. So this was completely
new to him. It was as if his ideal image of his feminine self, cool
and sophisticated, had been twisted into something else, cheap and
gaudy, much more than just inappropriate clothes could do.
Gaping back at him was someone he didn't know. Her hair was fuller
and streaked with pale blond, eyes made to appear larger with heavy
outlines and pale shadow, cheekbones emphasized by artificial shadows,
and mouth made to 'pop' via liner and bright red lipstick, further
enhanced with shiny gloss. His fingers went toward the mirror, as if
he needed to touch the reflection to assure himself it was real.
Marty laughed, took his wrist, and moved his hand away. Without
letting go she gently pulled him to his feet and took the spot he had
vacated. The busty young woman drew him closer and before he knew it,
he was sitting on her lap. His barely covered bottom was against her
sleek naked thighs. He could feel how well muscled they were.
She put a friendly arm around his narrow shoulders and hugged him
close. A tingle ran through Kevin and his little dick signaled him
insistently. He tried to wriggle free but she kept him where he was
without noticeable effort. Marty's unoccupied hand went to his chest
and her fingers stole up under his top. She found a nipple and
diddled it. He gasped and straightened his back, unintentionally
pushing himself toward the stimulation, rather than away from it.
"You like that," she observed. "In fact, I see something growing in
your panties. What is that? It's so tiny. In one of my classes
we're studying ancient myths. They had demigods, who were less that
real gods. And I know a demitasse cup for coffee is like a regular
cup but much smaller. So I guess we could call what you've got
between your legs a demi-dick. A cute name for a cute plaything."
She switched to his other nipple, eliciting a moan of pleasure. "Now
why don't you pull the crotch band of those panties aside and let me
see what you've got." She tightened her hold on his upper body.
"Unless you'd rather have me go after it myself."
"No, no, no," he squeaked, instantly ashamed of how high his voice
came out. He took a deep breath. "I'll do it."
Kevin eased the gusset out of the way and his miniature endowment
sprang up, all three skinny inches of it, ending in a tapered head.
Marty snickered. Kevin's cheek grew warm and he knew he was blushing.
She said, "I love that your wife doesn't let you have any body hair.
It really makes for a nice look down there. Sort of like you're still
waiting for it to mature. Or, as miniscule as your -- demi-dick --
is..." She said that term slowly, enjoying the sound of it and the
added mortification it caused. "... like you'll have to pull on it
to try to make it grow. Sure. Let's try that. Come on, Karen. Get
your thumb and one finger on that junior joint and see if you can
stretch it any." She giggled.
He cringed inwardly. "Please don't make me do that." His voice
remained high, the way his wife had taught him to keep it. "It would
be too... too..."
"Humiliating?" Marty flex her thighs so he could feel them bunching
and relaxing. "Shameful? Oh, but I think you like that. Or if you
don't, well, maybe your sissy sitter can help you learn to enjoy it.
Hmmm?"
"I'd really... rather... not." There was no force behind his words.
"Oh, sweetie, do it for me. I like to watch." She tickled his tummy.
"Come on. Show Marty how you can behave." Her tone was suddenly
frosty as she added, "Unless you want me to reach over to my bag, grab
a hairbrush or sorority paddle, drag you over my lap, and swat your
fanny until you cry lots and lots of tears, and your nose runs, and
you can't catch your breath." Switching to a sympathetic voice she
concluded, "You don't want that to happen. Do you?"
"N... no. No, Marty."
"Then you'd better get busy right now."
Kevin whimpered softly as his hand glided to the juncture of his
thighs. He did as told, using only a thumb and forefinger to grip his
unenviable penis. When he bounced his forearm up and down it made him
sigh. Marty gave his nipple a playful pinch and twist, elevating his
desire. He shifted around on her lap but didn't stop stroking
himself. He mewled softly, licked his colorful lips, and fluttered
his darkened eyelashes. Marty knew he was getting close to finishing.
She brought her mouth close to his ear.
The coed told him, "You have to stop now, Karen. No more dirty dingus
tugging."
He ceased pumping. It was a relief not to have to disgrace himself
anymore. But it was also a disappointment not to be allowed to gain
release. He sagged slightly and wasn't sure where to put his hands.
She went on, "And I'm afraid I have some bad news for you, dear."
A chill ran through him. He wanted to know, "What? Haven't I been
behaving?"
"Well, you've tried to do that. But when I asked you if you wanted to
have all those results that a spanking brings, the weeping and so on,
you said 'No, Marty'. Isn't that right?"
He didn't see what her point was but he answered truthfully, "That's
exactly what I said."
"And how should you have said it instead?"
"I don't know what you..." And then it struck him. He had agreed
earlier to use her favored form of address. And then forgotten to.
With a sinking feeling he admitted, "I should have said 'No, MISS
Marty'."
"That's correct, Karen." She eased him off her lap. "Which is why I
have to spank you now. And believe me when I tell you that this is
going to hurt me more than it hurts you, dear."
Kevin didn't believe that, not even for a second. But what could he
say without making his situation even worse? At this point, the last
thing he wanted to do was get himself into still more trouble, and
earn an even more severe correction. After all, if he got spanked for
such a small infraction, what would happen to him if he gave her
backtalk, maybe even tried to tell her she was being unfair. He stood
there and lowered his eyes contritely.
"I understand, Miss Marty. And I apologize."
It was deeply demeaning for him, a married man with a home, to have to
be so subservient to her, a mere college girl. At the same time, as
he looked into her china blue eyes and let his gaze drift lower to her
arresting cleavage, he felt weak. After all, he was dressed like a
lascivious farmgirl. The sissy version of The Farmer's Daughter. He
straightened his abbreviated top, which had been disarranged by
Marty's nipple teasing. Then Kevin adjusted his scanty panties,
because they had been left out of place after his shameful jerk-off
session. As he finished that task he noticed an embarrassing wet spot
forming on their front of the undergarment. Overloaded with nervous
energy, he also yanked up the tops of his thigh-high socks, wishing
that at least they didn't feature those vivid hearts.
Marty told him, "You have to get back on my lap, Karen. But this time
you won't be sitting. Will you?"
"No, Ma'am." He was so upset that he almost forgot what he was saying
and had to quickly amend, "Miss Marty."
That correction earned him a tolerant smirk. She smoothed out the
short cheerleader skirt over her tantalizing upper legs and patted it.
"Come on now, Cupcake. Drape yourself over my thighs like a good girl
who's ready to take her medicine."
It was like she was erasing his male ego with every word and gesture.
His chin quivered. She didn't miss that. He stepped closer and got
alongside her legs, bent forward, put one hand on the edge of the
mattress, and lowered himself until he was resting on her athletic
legs. She placed a hand on the small of his back.
"Isn't it funny?" she said. "You're making me spank you, and I'm
doing it on your own bed. I guess that every time you get into this
bed with your gorgeous wife, you'll remember this special time we're
spending together."
He felt her weight shift and knew she was reaching back to her bag.
Kevin dared to turn his head. He thought the hairbrush might be less
punishing than the paddle, but to his dismay it was the latter
instrument that she her chosen. Her slender fingers were wrapped
around the handle and she gave it a slow swing to test its heft and
balance. He swallowed dryly at thoughts of what was to come. Marty
set the flat surface of the bottom beater against his vulnerable
buttocks and patted them lightly with it. She added to his dread by
taking the already brief seat of the panties and yanking it up and
into the valley of his bottom. In no hurry, she returned her hand to
his lower back, took a few practice swings to get her range, and gave
her hips a wiggle, as if making sure she would be comfortable while
making him very UN-comfortable.
Kevin allowed himself a moment to try to untense. That was when she
surprised him by smacking his backside hard with the unyielding wood.
He yowled and kicked his legs. Before he could take a breath she
struck again. Marty didn't pause until she had delivered a full dozen
blows. As she had predicted, he was shedding tears, sniffling, and
gasping for breath. When he was able to fill his lungs, he began to
babble incoherently. Only a few words were comprehensible. There
were 'sorry' and 'hurts' and 'awful'. Marty was especially gratified
to hear her charge say 'bad girl', referring to himself -- twice.
"That wasn't so bad," the sitter offered. "Was it?"
"I g... guess not," Kevin said, sobbing.
"Good for you. Now let's take a moment before I give you the other
two dozen. Would you like them all together, or in two groups of a
dozen each? There's even the option of four sets of six, but that
tends to make your bottom hurt even worse. Don't ask me why."
How could she be talking like that, as calmly as if she was discussing
the right number of ice cubes to put in a mixed drink? Two dozen more
slaps with the paddle? Kevin didn't think he could endure that many
without completely falling apart. He didn't want to end up bawling
like a little girl. Or a pathetic sissy. Which was what he was now
thinking of himself as.
After blowing his breath out through pursed lips and getting slightly
more control over his voice, he told her, "Two groups of a dozen will
be all right." He couldn't suppress a wet stuttering vocalization.
To be on the safe side he also said, "Miss Marty."
"You are such a fast learner, Karen. I'm sure Petra will be very
proud of you when I give her my full detailed report."
That news distracted him just enough that she was able to once again
strike unexpectedly. On his already blazing sitter, the second salvo
stung much worse then the first. He held onto her taut calf and tried
not to scream, but couldn't summon enough self control even for that.
When the paddle stopped flashing he was a blubbering wreck. Marty
brushed her fingertips over his abused rump and whistled quietly. She
said something about how hot his skin was.
"Now take as long as you like before the final twelve," she advised.
"In fact, you can tell me when you're ready. Is that all right,
Karen?"
He bit his lips for a moment before he was able to say, "Yes, Miss
Marty," sounding like a chastened schoolgirl.
From his awkward position, Kevin couldn't see the sly smile she
allowed herself. This was one of Marty's favorite tricks. By
allowing the victim to choose when their punishment commenced, she put
that person in a difficult spot. Of course they didn't want it to
happen, so they would delay. But waiting was sheer torture, so they
wanted to make it happen. When everything worked just right, the
recipient of discipline added to their own internal anguish by
postponing the inevitable while they mentally sweated out the interim.
She had broken him down and mentally manipulated him enough, and in
the right ways, that he put himself in exactly that unenviable
predicament. Kevin shifted almost imperceptibly on her lap, suffering
the torments of the damned, while he tried to decide when... when...
to ask for his paddling to resume. Marty found everything she had
done to him to be stimulating, but this particular devilment was
getting her pussy extra wet. She wondered if he could smell her
arousal.
"I..." he began and then faltered.
She squeezed her thighs together. This was ecstasy. It's always a
bonus if you love your work.
Marty went, "Hmm?"
Kevin gathered the tattered remains of his manhood, braced himself,
and said, "I'm ready. You can start now."
"That's my brave Honey Bunny." She didn't like that he had found that
lingering strength. To take it away from him she decided out loud,
"But I don't want this to be too rough for you. So I'm going to
spread out the smacks. Take my time."
"No, no," he said anxiously. "I'd rather you just..."
The coed shushed him. "It's all right. I want to make this easy for
you. I'll give you plenty to time between swats."
He wanted to tell her that she was making it worse instead of better.
That prolonging the punishment was the opposite of what he wanted.
But each time he tried to say it she countered his attempted
objections the same way. He saw the futility of his efforts and fell
silent. Marty had turned his small victory into another defeat. He
was more tense than ever as he anticipated the final dozen being
spaced out and giving him more time to feel the burn, more
opportunities to disgrace himself by trembling and crying. She fussed
with the waistband of his panties, making sure the seat was pulled up
well into his nether valley. Then she unnecessarily straightened his
top in back. Marty even smoothed out the tops of his thigh-highs,
which didn't need that done to them.
All of that gave Kevin more time to dread what was yet to come. Then
she raised the paddle high and brandished it well above her target.
He was wracked by anticipation. It was almost a relief when she
slashed down and there was a loud meaty smack. Molten pain spread
through his buttocks. He was able to experience it fully as he waited
for a repeat effort. Marty relished his discomfort while she
restrained herself. Not until she judged the moment to be precisely
right did she strike again. The final round of spanks took a long
time and, by the end, he was whimpering constantly, writhing his red
cheeks, and taking long ragged breaths.
"Well, Karen," the college girl said. "I hope you don't give me a
reason to do that again."
"N... no, Miss Marty," he told her with proper sincerity.
"That's good. I wouldn't want to hurt my arm. Ha, ha. Now let's put
some cool soothing salve on those burned buns. Up you get."
He slid off her lap and stood, every movement costing him pain. Kevin
wanted to rub his rear but was afraid she would disapprove. Marty got
up and took a wide-mouthed jar off the dresser. He saw it was cold
cream. She told him to pull down his panties. He got the wedge in
material out of from between his cheeks and lowered them to mid-thigh,
keeping his legs far enough apart to hold them in that position.
There was the distinctive sound of the lid being unscrewed and a
moment later welcome coolness as she placed a dollop of the emollient
in the center of each soft mound. Marty rubbed it in with a slow
circular motion. It felt so good to him that he sighed.
She commented, "I know this isn't exactly what this stuff is meant
for, but it seems to be doing the job. Besides, it smells so nice.
So girly, just like you. I'll bet you like that."
"Yes, Miss Tracy."
"You know, you have to open yourself to new ways of thinking. When I
first spoke to Petra on the phone, she explained to me that you prefer
to dress more formally. But if you just let yourself go, you might
find out you like being a bit of a bad girl, too. She also told me
that she's feeling forgiving lately. That she might reconsider how
she feels about when you dressed behind her back, even though she
didn't like you deceiving her that way. She's willing to rethink her
relationship with you. If you get in touch with the side of Karen
that I've been bringing out this evening, Petra would try to take a
role that's more... well... more like mine."
Just then Marty dipped her fingers between Kevin's buttocks and spread
cream there. The tip of one forefinger found his rosebud. She gently
applied pressure.
"Miss Tracy!" he exclaimed.
She went on as if nothing unusual was happening. "If you just let
yourself go, Karen, and reimagine your sissy self more as a dirty girl
who needs to be punished frequently..." The finger went deeper and
probed freely. The sensation was both painful and pleasurable.
"...it could be very interesting for both of you. And enjoyable."
As Marty continued her manipulations, stimulating Kevin's sensitive
ring and brushing against his receptive prostate, he mewled,
contracted internal muscles in that area, and got an erection so rock
solid that it almost hurt. He involuntarily shoved his hips back
against her penetration, not to push her away, but to take her in
deeper.
"See?" she said sweetly. "Doesn't Karen like that?"
"Yes," he hissed, elongating the sibilant. "Karen loves it. Please
don't stop, Miss Marty." What was happening to him? He was
regressing toward an adolescent state. "Karen wants more."
"Is Karen going to be lustful? Always ready to put her mouth wherever
Petra says? And show lots of enthusiasm when she uses her tongue?
And try to think up extra filthy ways to please her Mistress/wife?"
"Yes, Miss Marty." The pitch of his voice had lowered slightly and
there was a hint of a growl in it, like someone unfamiliar was
speaking through him. "I'll do... all sorts of wicked things."
"Good. And wear really whorish outfits? And be proud to be seen in
them?"
Now his words were thick with lust. "Yes, Miss Marty. I want to.
Karen wants to. Karen wants to be..." It was as if his core identity
was being reshaped into something new. "... whatever she's told to
be."
Marty moved her finger faster, bent it, twisted her hand. Kevin
groaned and his scrotum tightened. He was close to spurting. But all
at once she withdrew and left him gasping.
"You do know," Marty pointed out, "that I'll be giving Petra a
complete report of what just happened, too. And what you just said."
Kevin's chest rose and fell dramatically. He got himself somewhat
under control. But those new thoughts that she had put into his mind
were still there.
"I understand, Miss Marty. I'm sort of confused but... I understand."
Marty turned Kevin around. His undersized pecker was sticking out at
her. She chuckled at it, not hiding the fact that she was mocking his
inadequacy. He cringed but also felt excitement at the humiliation.
Without being told to, he sank to his knees and bowed his head. She
stepped forward to put her thighs alongside his ears, and then brought
her legs together. He knelt there, in his demeaning outfit, his tail
end red and on fire, knowing that his made-up face didn't even look
like his own. Kevin got his hands on her calves and stayed where he
was. She allowed the added contact, knowing it would add to his
sexual frustration.
In his mind Kevin saw himself replaying what he'd been through this
evening, but with Petra instead of Marty in control. His heart raced
and he yearned to play with his little dick again, even to be observed
while he did it. Kevin/Karen knew that life was going to be very
different from then on. And he had a thrilling fear that he was
going to want more... more... more.
*********
(NEW AUTHOR ALERT. Last time I recommended Liz Silvers. This time
I'd like to suggest that you take a look at what Maid Angela has
posted. Enjoy.)
Lesley
- 17.12.2020
- 14
- 0
