Feeding Time At The Zoo free porn video

Feeding Time at the Zoo It happened fast. It overwhelmed me. One minute, I was looking at a sissy. The next minute, I wanted to be one. That's how fast it happens for some of us. There is a spark, then there is a fire, and before you know it, I was burning out of control. There is a switch, and someone turns the lights on. But let's start at the beginning. At first glance, the Zoo looked like any other bar. Modern lightning and a darkened dance floor. A large mahogany bar. A deejay stand in the corner. Two smiling bartenders and friendly waitresses. Liquor. It was only on second glance that you noticed the differences. Men were huddled in the corner with men. Women were dancing with women. Threesomes danced together, their arms interlocked in a swaying triangle. A Spiderman look-alike was kissing Batman. On a wall to the left of the bar, there was a saddle with a lasso over it. A pair of handcuffs. A whip. There was a woman who wasn't quite a woman flirting with a man who was almost a man. Ah, yes, a fetish bar. And what's your flavor? Beth and I moved through the darkness, trying hard to see but not to stare. But how can you go to the zoo without looking at the animals? We had heard about fetish bars, of course, but this was our first time inside of one. In Cincinnati, you had to look pretty hard to find a place like the Zoo, where every big could find his little and every alpha had his pick of betas. What were we doing here? Besides drooling? Beth and I weren't really fetishists. We were beginners. We were just ... window shopping. A toe into the pool, you know? Oh, we played around some with handcuffs, and we had entertained the possibility of bringing another person into our bed. We did the edible underwear stuff. But really, we were rather vanilla. You know: We were on maybe the fourth of our 50 shades of gray. Our interest far exceeded our experiences. It was one thing to look at a tigress; it was another to slow-dance with it. What the heck, we had told ourselves. Everyone has to start somewhere, right? If we wanted something a little spicier in the bedroom, first we had to find out what was out there. Right? Beth was from a small town in Michigan. I was from a burg outside of Kansas City. We were a couple of years out of college at K-State. What did we know of kink? Beth was 28. I was 26. I'm Matt We were in our first real jobs out of college. I worked for a bank. Beth had moved with me to Cincy. She worked in computers. But we both considered ourselves more adventurous that most couples. If we could find the right hobby, we were open minded enough for it. So we moved through the crowd, aware of the eyes on us -- especially on Beth -- and made our way to the bar. Beth asked for two rumrunners -- a sweet, frozen Slurped-Type drink (with alcohol) we had discovered in Florida -- and leaned back and watched. Across the room, a woman was kissing a man...but when you looked closely, she was holding hands with another woman is she did so. A man in leather was laughing with a woman in rubber. There were a dozen or people prancing around like make-believe horses (enough for a Kentucky Derby). A woman was dressed like a little girl, her doll tucked under an arm, her thumb in her mouth. Beth knew more about this stuff that I did. About the people who like amputees. About the people who are into noses. About the bladder- worshipers. It's like a high-end ice cream shop; there are a lot of flavors. Toto, we weren't in Kansas anymore. * * * We sat, sipping our drinks. At one point, Beth looked at me and said, "Who do you like? The redhead or the blonde." For us, it was an old game. Options, we called it. No one was going home with anyone else, but that didn't stop the small talk. "The redhead," I said. "How about you. The guy with glasses or the guy with muscles over there." "Muscles. The black girl or the Asian girl?" "The black girl," I said. "How about the bartender or that cowboy?" "Yippie-kay-yo," she said. "The cowboy. The fireman or the bald guy." I stopped. We had never included same-sex options. "Beth?" I said. "Oh, just play along," she said. "Which one floats your boat? If you had to. If you were on a desert island." Um.... "The bald guy?" She grinned. "I like him too. Bald means more testosterone. That's what bald guys say, anyway. How about the guy in the suit or the guy with the earrings?" I shook my head. "The suit." And we went on that way for a while, Gay Options, I guess. But it chewed up time while we watched the dancers. "Catwoman or Poison Ivy? "Catwoman. Always. Catwoman has claws, I like claws." We watched, and we talked. Captain America and Batman stood, and hand- in-hand, they headed toward the men's room. "Feeding time," our bartender whispered. He laughed. He explained that "feeding time" was what the customers said when a couple slipped away. We tried to figure out just what each couple was into. There was a man and a woman, dancing in front of a mirror, kissing their own reflections in the glass. There was a young man with a much, much older woman. There was a woman tracing the tattoos of her girlfriend. There was a man slow dancing with a mannequin. And then I saw them. And the world stopped spinning. They were moving along slowly, and it seemed as if the light were only on them. They were i the crowd, but somehow, they were above it. The woman in charge was tall and fit, in a black cat woman suit, including the mask. Beside her was another woman, a blonde, in a pink maid's outfit. The maid's head was bowed, her eyes downcast, and she walked slightly behind her partner. Something caught in my throat as I watched the move. The woman in black was slinky, like a jungle cat. The woman in pink was docile, like a pet. The bartender leaned over, and whispered conspiratorially, "Isn't he pretty?" "...he?" "The maid. That's Cherry Ann. She's with Mistress Mandy. He's her slave. They come in here all the time." We both looked, transfixed. This was a married couple? A woman and a man? Slave? You could not talk your eyes off of them. The Mistress was so powerful, so regal. The maid was so soft, so subservient. The woman stopped at a plush chair in the corner and more or less floated into it. Her maid sat on the floor at her feet. Both of them wore makeup that was expertly done. They both had on heels. The maid touched her mistresses leg in adoration. Beth looked at me and smiled. "Well, we wanted to find different flavors. There's a rare one for you." I just stood there, my mouth open. I was mesmerized. "Matt...MATT." I was jolted from my daze. Beth was laughing. "Does Mattie see something he likes?" she said. "God, Beth. I never know about this stuff. They're gorgeous." She nodded. "Which one? The Mistress or her ... maiden?" "Both of them," I said. She laughed. "I think I read about this. It's called sissification. The woman dresses her husband up and orders him around. Makes him cook and clean and, well, serve her. The way I understand it, it's a lot of kinks at once. Transvestism. Bondage. Submissiveness. Control. Sadism. Masochism. It's a buffet of kink." The Mistress ran her hands through her maid's hair, and the maid looked up again. She leaned her head against her Mistresses leg. If she was a man, she was the prettiest man I had ever seen. There was a hunted look to her, a bit of shame and a bit of pride. She looked vulnerable, weak. Her mistress, on the other hand, looked strong and commanding. I could not stop looking at them. I would wait until Beth would look away, and I would steal a glance. I couldn't help myself. "So, Mattie. What do you think?" I hesitate. "I think they're bookends. Two sides of the same coin. I think it works for them." "Does it work for you?" "Oh, don't be silly, Beth," I said. "I'm just a tourist. They're nice, but it's not for me." And, size notwithstanding, my dick was Hercules. Beth sat back and sipped her win. "Have you ever worn a dress?" she asked. looking at me oddly. "No," I said. "Wait. Well, when I was in middle school, I think I put on Barb's clothes one day to see what it was like. Don't all boys do that? But I was never a cross-dresser, if that's what your asking?" "I think you'd look petty. You're hair is long enough, and you have great eye-lashes You'd look pretty in pink, like the movie. Tell me: Does Mattie wanna be my girlfriend?" I scowled at here. "Stop," I said. "Please." Beth held up her hands in protest. "I won't mention it again." But, of course, she did. * * "If it's what you like, it's just what you like," Beth was saying the next day. "That was the fetish bars are all about. No judgments. Just freedom. Just experimentation. Just boners and moaners." "But, Beth... what makes you think I would like being in a dress?" "Because when we were at the Zoo, your eyes were bulging like a cartoon mouse's," she said, laughing. "I know you liked to be in handcuffs, but I never knew until tonight you wanted to be in dresses, too. Handcuffs and handbags, that's you. My baby is a sissy." I shook my head. I sighed and went into the bathroom. It was hard to debate Beth on this, mainly because I thought she was onto something. From first sight, I had identified with the maid on the floor. Can you love a kink at first sight over? But something primal, something basic, made me deny everything. I would not -- I could not -- dress like a female, no matter what Beth\h said. She could tie me up if she wanted. She could make me sleep on the couch. But since I was a kid, there was no humiliation for a man quite like being called a woman. I washed my face. I looked into the mirror and shook my head. Did I look pretty? Did I want to look pretty? Yeah, I was a little...soft. A little girlie. I'd always been accused of that. But accusations are one thing, and proof is another. For crying out loud, it was harder for some men to be macho than others. I walked back into the living room. No Beth. I found her in the bedroom, looking in her closet. "How about blue?" she said. "You'd look good in blue." "Beth...please," I said. "Cut it out." "Why?" she said. "No one will see but me. I want to see you in a dress. Call it my own kink if you won't admit it's your's. Really, how is it any different than handcuffs? You enjoyed those. It's just letting me have my way, girlfriend." I looked into the mirror again. Was there a touch of pink there? Was a man enough to not be a man? "Beth," I said carefully. "Yeah, babe?" "I had an idea. You ... you could make me do it. I mean, if you wanted. If you tell me I have to dress, then I might." "No, sweetie," Beth said softly. "This is on you. I'll support you if you want to be a sissy. Hell, I'll even act as your mistress until you find one. But I won't order you to do it. You have to go to the store, and you have to buy a dress and heels. Some makeup. Some underwear. I'll help you put it on. I'll whistle and call you pretty. But you have to open this door and walk through it, Mattie. It has to be your choice." "I just can't," I said. "I can't." "Give me one good reason why not," she said. "Because," I said. "Because I'm scared I might like it." There. It was out in the open. Beth just shrugged. "Look, we're going to play a little. Just a little. Go along with the game. If nothing else, we'll get some selfies we can laugh at. Come on, Mattie. It's just another wrinkle. You knew when we went into the Zoo that we were going to try something. So we're going to try this. If we're going to, we should do it now. So why don't. you try on one of my dresses, and if you like it, you can buy your own tomorrow." She pulled the blue dress off of a hangar, and she went to her lingerie drawer and picked out items. "Now, slide these on. What do you feel?" I pulled the blue panties up my legs, and my junk nestled in nicely. "They're cool. They're slick. They feel nice enough, I guess. A little tight." "Well, they're mine. Now the bra." I slid my arms through the straps, ad she fasted it behind me. She took extra panties and put them in the cups to give me boobs. She smiled, and picked at my hair. "Tomorrow, I'll get you to shave," she said. "And we'll put some rollers in your hair if we can. Now, purse your lips." I did, and I smelled the lipstick as she put in on me. Funny. I didn't realize lipstick smelled. She dabbed at my eyes. "How do you feel?" she said. "I'm okay. It feels odd to have these... humps. And the straps keep falling down." "Hold on," she said. She started working on my eyes. She added lipstick. She stepped back, looking at me the way an artist looks at his canvas. "Nice," she said. "Now, you need hose, but not until you shave your legs. But put these heels on." I did. They were a pretty pair of red heels. I wobbled in them like a man standing in a boat. "You'll get used to them," she said. I would? Beth sipped the dress over my head. "Ah, my gorgeous girl," she said. "Spin around for me... Maddy. You're Maddy now, okay?" I was embarrassed, but I nodded. I twirled. "Now, there is still stuff we need. I'll get it tomorrow." No one said it, but we both knew that tomorrow would be a girly day for me. The day after, too. And a lot of days after that. We went into the living room. We sat in front of the TV, but neither of us paid any attention to it. We had just come upon a detour in our lives. Beth took my hand. I squeezed hers. Then she turned my hand up, and she was putting nail polish on me. I felt like I was drowning. We went to bed, but we didn't sleep, and we didn't have sex. I lay their in my panties and bra, and I wondered what was next. I was scared. I was excited. And I couldn't decide which feeling was greater. * * In mid-afternoon the following day, we went shopping. While Beth had refused to shop for me, she loved shopping with me. "Now, we still need to buy you some more everyday dresses," Beth said. "But this should put you on your way." "Beth? Every day?" "Sorry. Slip of the tongue. If we want to explore this fetish, though, we need to give it a chance. OK. No boy clothes for you. Not for a while. I think we both want to see what's on the next page, don't we?" She started pulling things out of the bag. There was a pink maid's dress, like the girl in the bar. There was a black one, too. Breast forms. Hose. Shoes with locks on them. A butt plug. Makeup. Bras. Panties. Heels. Earrings (although my ears weren't pierced). She bought me a black dress. A red one. A patterned skirt. Now she was saying I needed more. Then she pulled out one last item. It was in a small black case. Inside was a dull gray metal...contraption. I looked at her oddly. "It's a chastity belt," she said, grinning. "A cock cage. It's like handcuffs for your cock. That now belongs to me, missy." "I don't want to wear that," I said feebly. It sounded odd. I had just fallen in line with everything else she wanted to try, but why would anyone ever want to wear a cock cage? Hell, I don't want to wear leg shackles, either. "It's fun, girl," Beth said. "The woman at the store told me that sissies love their cages. II bought it for you. Supposedly, on the days you get your release, sex is amazing. And it keeps from having your erection show through your skirt." "No," I said. "Please no. It makes my dick a prisoner. It makes me a prisoner." "Dammnit, Maddy," Beth said. I blanched at the alteration of my name. "I spend over $600 on you. I help you get started. And now, all you can say is 'no.' You don't give it a chance. You don't ever try it the fuck on. What a selfish bitch you are." Beth didn't get mad often, but when her temper flares, it's a runaway train. She went into the living room and sat on the coach, fuming. She was saying something to herself. I couldn't make it out, but I'm sure I was being called names. "Look, this isn't about pain or torture. It's about control. And if I'm going to be your Mistress, even for a little while, that control has to be mine." I approached her carefully. "I'm sorry, Beth," I said. "I didn't know it meant that much to you. If you want, I'll give it a try. Ok?" She twisted in her seat so her back was to me. "Don't do my any fucking favors," she said. "I didn't mean it like that, honey," I said. "I mean...can I try it on? I want to. Just see what all the fuss is about. Okay? Honey? Please don't be mad." She looked me and exhaled. "Okay," she said. "Pull your panties down." I did, and she fastened this ... monstrosity ... around my penis. I looked as if I had stuck my dick inside a mousetrap, and it had snapped shut. Now, everything that Beth had brought me had been soft and pretty and feminine. But this was metallic and ugly and threatening. She adjusted it, then cupped the metal around my cock. I felt like the Man in the Iron Mask. Only my mask was around me penis. I felt like one of those convicts with an ankle locator. We both stared at it for minutes. Her face was one of fascination. Mine was one of horror. Finally, she said this. "I like it. If we're going to play at this dynamic, I need to be in charge. Well, if I'm in charge of your dick, the rest of you will follow. Now, what kind of sentence is the little convict serving? Life? 10-20? Is there time off for good behavior." I blushed. And I noticed as she slid the gold chain with the key onto her keychain. * * Except for the cage, though, I loved it. I loved it. I loved wearing panties. I loved shaving my legs. I loved the way the hem of a dress danced across your legs. I blew kisses into the mirror. I pranced across the room. I posed in front of the mirror. The next day, I put Beth's underwear and her blue dress back on, and we puttered around the apartment. I kept touching my breast forms. I kept looking at my heels. "You know," Beth said, "some maids clean up for their Mistresses." "I'm not a maid," I said. "You aren't a Mistress...yet. For God sake, we haven't even read all the stories about it yet. This may not our thing after all." "But it could be. You obviously want it to be. Hey, we could be like that couple at the Zoo." "Funny girl," I said. "Stick-in-the-mud girl," she said. I smiled. "What if I don't want to go on after this weekend?" I said. "Well, I think you will," she said. "But you don't have to. This is all about having fun, you know. It's about the way it makes you feel, the way it makes you look." "Hey, I don't know a lot about Mistresses, but I understand some of them can be real ball-busters. They pretty much dominate their sissies, and then they do all sorts of things. They fuck around on them. They cause pain. They make them into domestics for life. Sweetie, I won't do that to you. You proceed at your own pace, okay?" I nodded, relieved. Maybe this was just a harmless dress-up game, after all. It was just pretty fabric, and I was just in costume. It was like being in a play, wasn't it? Beth left me shortly afterward to go to work. I went to the bath, as instructed, and shaved my legs and the few strands of hair on my chest. I rolled my hair. I practiced my makeup. Every time I would pass a mirror, I would look at my reflection. I redid my makeup. I walked in my heels. The walls were broken down. I no longer felt like fighting it. Hell, the clothes felt nice. I felt nice. I looked pretty. The world felt new. What was the big deal about this Sissy stuff? * * * It was as simple as that. It was as fast as that. One weekend, I was an onlooker at a fetish bar. The next weekend, I was a sissy in a pink dress. Beth led me through the crowd at the Zoo, and as you would imagine, every head turned. She had bought me a collar by now, and it affixed to a small, jeweled leash. She led me across the dance floor, past the bar. Beth bought me lingerie. She bought me makeup. She bought me earrings. What she didn't buy me was a wig. She wanted everyone in the joint to know I wasn't really a woman. It was part of the humiliation she had read about. Because my haircut was a guy's, but I was wearing a dress and heels and wearing heavy makeup, there was no questioning the dynamic on display. We weren't a normal married couple, and we weren't lesbians. There was no deceit going on here. Everyone knew what we were. A woman and her sissy. A domme and her plaything. She was Superman. I was Lois Lane. I blushed as I followed Beth to the bar. I knew as if everyone was seeing a man in a dress wearing heels. People spoke to Beth, but they ignored me as if I was beneath them. I guess that I was. "Nice sissy," a woman in black greeted Beth. "Been training her long?" "No, we're newbies," Beth said. "She's in her first week." "Well, she's adorable," the first woman said. "I wouldn't mind tapping that ass myself. Let me know when you start renting her out." My eyes grew big and wild. But Beth just smiled. "I'll do it," she said. "But tonight, she's mine. Her tongue, too." The women laughed then went their separate ways. It was embarrassing, and it was exhilarating. It was humbling, and it was heavenly. I knew everyone was looking at me as if I was less than a man, less than a woman. I was a sissy. I hated it almost as much as I loved it. I was learning just how different life was going to be for me. I admit I was hooked into this in a hurry, but I couldn't order a drink unless Beth sent me to do it. I couldn't join the conversation without someone speaking to me first. When guys pinched my ass, I had to smile and curtsy. I was the sissy. I had to play my role. * * * She pegged me for the first time that night. She walked out of the bathroom with this porn-star cock sticking out of her pelvis like an obscene cartoon, and she stopped in front of me and said simply, "Is the ass ready?" I was transfixed by the sight. But I lay on my stomach and lifted my butt, because it's what a sissy would do. This role was taking me over. Guys, normal guys, don't offer their ass up for their mate's pleasure But maids in pink dresses? Yeah, they do. The dildo was made of rubber, and it was hard and unyielding. I tried to find a certain rhythm as Beth grabbed my hips and moved by body backward and forward, the tip of her dildo at the edge of my anus. Then she was screwing me hard,, and it was pushing against my ass, and it was horrible. I felt like Beth had a size 12 cock and I had a size two butt hole. I cried as she entered me, but she ignored me and kept pushing, a bit of a time, until I was biting the pillow. I was certain I was bleeding. It got better after that, and yes, eventually it felt nice. But it remained foreign and obtrusive. In the months ahead, a lot of sissies would say that loved it shortly after it penetrated them. Not me. I hated the entire experience. Not that anyone was asking me. Afterward, Beth held me as I cried. "Poor sissy," she said. She smiled. "My sissy. We're in it now, Maddy. We're in the life." *. * * It was a Sunday, and I was flitting about the apartment in a yellow maid's dress. Beth was reading the newspaper. She asked me to come and sit in front of her on my stool. I crossed my legs as I sat. It was girly, but wasn't most everything I did now? "Maddy," Beth said. "I need something from you. I, um, well, I fucked a guy last night in the bathroom, and it feels really messy down there. Could you clean me. I mean, with your tongue?" I stared at her, stunned. She had cheated on me, and now she wanted me to lick it up? She spread her legs. She wasn't wearing panties. "Mistress...I don't want to do that," I said. "Who cares what the fuck you want, pussy boy. Just lick it." I looked at her vagina. Was it more swollen than usual? Was there sperm in there? Was she joking? I leaned forward and tentatively kissed her pussy. "That's it, Madeline," she said. "Now lick it up. Lick the sperm. Taste his spunk. Savor it. It's nice, isn't it?" I didn't taste any sperm, but if it had been ours, perhaps it had cleaned up. I licked upwards. I swirled my tongue inside of her. "Yes, baby. That's where his cock was. It was so big, and so hard. I loved it when he fucked me. Especially when he got by the used part from your little dick. Oh, Maddy. You really need to loosen your resistance to guys. They're so fucking great." I almost retched from the thought of it. There really isn't much difference between a cum-licker and a cocksucker, is there? And now I was licking up his dried semen. I imagined them in the toilet, thrusting and pumping. The shame of the moment filled me. I tried to distinguish his taste from hers. Finally, she shivered and quietly came. "That's my pet," she said. "Good girl." I backed away, tears in my eyes. Not only had she screwed someone, she had debased me afterward. "Maddy," she said sleepily. "MADDY." I looked up, wounded. "There was no guy," she said. "I was messing with you. The only thing down there is me. I wouldn't fuck someone in the bathroom, for God's sake. I have never had another man," I look at her, and I was filled with gratitude. It was all a game, a mind-fuck. She had shamed me as thoroughly as if she had screwed someone, but she didn't. Then she added one more word. "Yet," she said. * * * We became regulars at the Zoo, and now, the tourists looked at us instead of the other way around. Beth liked having me under leash-and- collar. She liked me in maid's dresses, and she bought me an assortment. She taught me to do makeup. It's amazing how fast you get used to it, how quickly it becomes the norm. When I looked in the mirror, I didn't expect to see a guy. I saw Maddy, the sissy. I began to shake my butt as I walked by the patrons. I flopped my wrists in an exaggerated silly motion. I wold replenish my lipstick in public. Anything I could do that was feminine, I did. The truth of it is that I loved it. There are sissies who fight it at every step, sissies who struggle against the dresses and the heels and the lipstick. But that first night, I knew where I belonged. I wasn't a transvestite. I wasn't transgender. But I was a sissy, and it didn't bother me that everyone knew it. Beth was as new at being a Mistress as I was to being a Sissy, but I wanted her with me for this journey. I didn't want a strange Mistress. I didn't want a Master of any kind. I had made that plain to Beth. I was a straight male. I would submit to her in all ways but that one. I would not sleep with a guy. Dildos were different, and I let Beth fuck me (although I didn't particularly like it). Everything else, I did. I cleaned for Beth. I cooked for her. I wore my cage for her. I dressed for her. I shopped with her. We would go into a store, and people would stare and disapprove. But that was okay. They didn't understand. Old friends, one by one, found out the truth about me. Scott, my best friend, raised hell that Beth had done this to me on her own. Gregory, a co-worker, thought I was hot. Corey, who thought he was funny, treated me likeI was a walking punch line. Without telling me, she invited my sister to lunch while I was dressed. She had my boss over for drinks. Our next door neighbors came for dinner. This was her new game, evidently, to embarrass me with our old acquaintances. Late at night, and Beth and I lay by each other, kissing and touching and licking and fondling, it was all worth it. I loved the burn of embarrassment, and I loved the assurance of her touch. My penis remained caged, and there were nights that I wondered if Beth had forgotten about it. She played more with my chest -- and I had almost nothing up top -- than with my penis. But Sissies are not penis-driven characters. We are submissives. I'd rather bend a knee that stand upright. It's my nature. Beth was growing into her role, too. She was more insistent, more demanding. She liked to embarrass me around our friends or co-workers. She seemed to enjoy it when she could bring tears to my eyes. She threatened to spank me, although she never did. I understood. To her, it was just part of her job. Damn, she was good at it. * * Bars are social places. The more you hang out in them, but more you become a regular. And so Beth and I became part of the scenery at the Zoo. We got to know Will, the bartender. We got to know Larry, the bouncer. We got to know the other patrons and their particular tastes. One night, Beth sat down next to another couple -- Jake and Laney -- to share beer and conversation. By now, we saw the other couples, but we didn't always pay a lot of attention. It was all normal now. So we sat with Jake and :Laney and we talked. They had an open marriage -- and often took home third parties -- but that's not all they were. Jake was funny and smart and handsome. Laney was bawdy and flirtatious and laughed a little too loud. Over the next month, we became a foursome. Laney was kind to me, and a lot of people weren't. She would talk dresses and heels with me. Jake liked to dance with Beth -- sometimes a little too close. I couldn't help but notice the chemistry dripping off of them. But I said nothing, because I was a sissy, and it wasn't my place to say anything. I just sat with my head bowed and got lost in my own paranoia. Look, there was a lot that Beth could bring to Jake and Laney. I knew that. She could provide a third person, and she was warm and smart and good. I imagined that Jake had a big dick; didn't every threat in the stories have a guy like that? Me? I could vacuum the living room. I could iron their laundry. There is no spare wheel quite like a sissy. They would all flirt with each other-- and ignore me as they did so. The sexual suggestions and the banter flew off the wall. I studied everyone's shoes as it was going on. I braced for the inevitable. Then, one night, it happened. Beth burned to me and told me that she needed a different brand of sex than sex with a sissy in a cock cage. She needed someone passionate, some who would fit on top or on bottom Someone who was a wildcat in bed, someone who made her feel things I couldn't make her feel. She didn't want to watch me wash the dishes; she wanted to be moved in the bedroom. "I know this might hurt, Maddy," she said. "But it's time I took a love. So I have to tell you. I'm in love with Laney." Laney? LANEY? Beth was having sex with a woman? I thought she wanted Jake. I didn't like that idea either, but it at least made sense. Beth and Laney? What was this? When did it start. I could not push the image of my wife going down on Jake's wife. In a way, it was almost funny. I was bracing myself for Beth to have an affair with Jake. For him to slip his penis inside of her and fuck her until he spewed his sperm into her. Hey, I had seen Beth enjoy a penis (mine). But I had never noticed her check out a good looking woman as she walked by. I never thought of her face pressed against a pussy. But people get hit by a thunderbolt sometimes. And Beth was smitten. She and Laney held hands in the bar, and they danced slowly in that intimate way that lovers dance. They kissed, and they didn't care who saw it. With left me alone... ...With Jake. The night that Beth told us she was in love with Laney, Jake and I sat stunned at the bar. We tried to make small talk, about the movies, about TV, about music. I hoped he would ignore the fact I was there in a dress and heels. I'll say it again. I was not into men. They made me nervous. They were too big, too sweaty, too hairy. I ran my hand through my hair -- longer now, dyed blonde -- and inhaled deeply. And then Jake's hand was on mine. I knew he was bisexual from his swinger days, but I didn't think he found me attractive at all. "Maddy, it's okay," he said. "We're just two people who have been abandoned. I think we can find some solace in each other. You know you're pretty. You know I think the world of you." I shook my head. I did not want to ride this train. "Jake, you're sweet," I said. "You really are. But I've never been with a guy. It's never appealed to me." He looked at me, and he smiled. "You need to give us chance," he said. "You won't regret it. A sissy would never regret it." On all of my journey, then, this was the most important question of them all. What's more important -- your sexuality or your submissiveness? I wanted to say no to Jake, but I wondered: Was I allowed to say no if I was a real sissy? I imagined Beth standing beside me. I could hear her voice. "Why are you thinking about saying no, Sissy girl? Sissies don't discriminate. Sissies don't get to have a sexual preference. They simply ... obey. If they're told to bend a knee, well, they bend a knee. There is nothing to think about. Now go home and satisfy Jake. Until you do, you'll be an incomplete sissy, a puzzle without a piece. You'd just be playing dress- up." My mind screamed no, but my body made me rise to my feel. I looked up at Jake, and I twitched my lips in invitation. He leaned down and kissed me, and as much as I didn't want to admit it, it felt nice. I kissed him back -- hey, I spent a lot of money on lipstick. Why not spread it around? I put my hand on his cheek and felt his stubble. Somehow, that was comforting. Jake's raw masculinity and my own femininity. We walked toward the door, and as usual, eyes followed us. They knew. They knew we would soon be naked and in each other's arms. That embarrassed me a little, but I bit my lip and kept walking. His apartment was nice. Wedding photos of he and Laney were scattered across the room. But we weren't there to look at photos. We went to the bedroom. The bed was a king-sized, plenty of room. He sat on the edge and brought me into his embrace. He kissed my breasts. I was standing, and he was sitting. I felt dizzy. Was I going to be able to do this? He pulled me down on top of him, and we ran our hands over the other's bodies. I unbuckled his pants and tugged them downward. He wasn't wearing underwear, and he jutted toward the ceiling. His body was nice. A flat stomach and strong shoulders. Runner's legs. A good smile. His cock was nice, but it wasn't a porn star's. Oh, it was bigger than mine. But it wasn't scary large. He lay back, inviting me. I felt one last wall of resistance, and then it was gone, and he was in my mouth. I licked furiously, and I bobbed my head rapidly. "Whoa," he said. "Slow down. We have all night. Just find your rhythm." He whispered instructions then. How to alternate sucking and licking. How to swirl my tongue on the bulb. How to lick the collar, that ring right below the knob. How to lick up the shaft, then down. It was a friendlier appendages than the dildos I had sampled. It was warm, and it became more erect on my tongue. It wasn't nearly as bad as I feared. It was...nice. I slurped, unhurried. At first, I tried to block out what I was doing. But he felt nice in my mouth, and I got into it. When he came, it was violent. There was a string a sperm, then another, then a third. I could not swallow it all and so I hacked and coughed. It was warm and sweet, end not unpleasant. Then I went back to it. We lay together afterward, with my mind accepting what I had done. I had sucked a cock. He ran his hands down, and he tried to cup by own penis. Instead, he found my cage, and he burst out laughing. I blushed. "Beth still has the key," I said. He grinned. "Well, we'll have to get it back from her, won't we? Tell me, Maddy. Did it rob a bank? Did your dick steal a car?" Then he started singing. I didn't recognize the song at first, but then I did. Remember Ray Charles' old song "unchain my heart?" He was singing "unchain my cock." Yeah, it was a little funny. The rest of the night was glorious, too. He rested for a few minutes. Then he asked me to suck him a little more, to get ready for round two. This time, he took my ass. Slow and smooth, not violent like Beth had been with the dildo. This time, it felt right. It fit, and it thrilled me as he began to pump away. I lay there, my face in the pillow, and I felt perfect. I was a complete sissy after all. And it was terrific. I had felt pressured into having sex with Jake the night before. But in the moments just before dawn, no one pushed me to do anything. I awoke, and I lifted the sheet covering us both. Jake was flaccid then in his slumber. I smiled, then i leaned down and took him back into my mouth. He woke up to a hardening penis and a wet mouth. There are worse alarm clocks. * * The next day, Beth brought the key to Jake at the Zoo. She looked good, fresh and pretty as ever. She smiled at Jake, knowing he had wanted my penis, and then gave the key to him. Not to me, mind you. To him. From now on, he would be in control of me. Beth looked at me then, and I almost melted. I had loved her so long, and it didn't matter that she had found someone else. Sex was just parts rubbing together. Love was something else. "You're still mine, puppy dog," she said. "I'm just lending you to Jake for a while. I stole his wife, and I'm replacing her with my sissy. That seems fair to me. Besides, you need to get over this silly aversion to men. It's unbecoming a sissy. Your mouth is shaped to fit with a man. Right, Jake?" Jake laughed. He nodded. I looked at Beth. "Miss Beth," I finally said. "Are you in love with Laney?" "Love? God, no. I'm not a teenager anymore, Maddy. I don't fall in love and wear promise rings and go to the malt shop with the gang. Laney and I are having sex. Great sex. I've never been in love with a woman before, and it's a real learning experience. Who knew that pussy was so wet? "Sweetheart, we're on a break. That's all. Laney still loves Jake. I still love you. But for you to be the perfect sissy, for me to be the perfect mistress, we had to branch out. We had to try other things. Don't you understand that?" I guess I did. We weren't the tourists we used to be, sticking one foot in the fetish pond. We were sensual human beings, and we could rub up against other people without it taking away from who were were. I reached out and held her hand. She squeezed mine. Then she left, without a promise of the future. I felt abandoned, as if my heart was breaking, as I watched her walk away. Would we ever be together again? Did she really love me as she said? "Tomorrow," I whispered. But no one answered. Then Jake was looking at me with lust in his eyes. I was his now. To cook, to clean, to fuck. I had submitted. He had my key. "Let's go to the men's room," he said. "I think I need a blow job." "I will NOT suck you off in the men's bathroom," I said. "Not as long as there is a women's bathroom." He grinned. "Feeding time," he said. And it was. Copyright, Cassandra Morgan