Quinn s Saga
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A Sissy Saga Ch. 12 free porn video
Poppy returned to the dormitory much earlier than had been planned. Most of the students at the Grange were in special detention and occupied in doing things in preparation for Open Day, but he was no longer a proper pupil and for a while that afternoon he was a free agent.
He was feeling active and restless, but he arrived to find the room occupied by the sole figure of Abigail seated at a table, and while knowing Abigail wasn’t always the most pleasant company he nonetheless gravitated towards him.
Abigail leaned back in his chair tapping his teeth with the tip of a pencil whilst morosely staring into space. Poppy hovered solicitously, noting the swathes of note paper strewn across the tabletop. ‘What do you want?’ Abigail snapped, gathering his wits and glowering.
Poppy rolled from one foot to the other and tried a disarming expression. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Something for Miss Twist,’ the head-girl replied sourly, ‘It’s a work schedule for everyone to follow on Open Day and it’s not easy to work out, so don’t come bothering me.’ He leaned forward like an old man hunched over a stamp collection, then he suddenly glanced up suspiciously. ‘You’re supposed to be working in the kitchen, what are you doing here?’
Poppy shrugged his shoulders and unshrugged them. ‘The cook said she was sick of listening to me talk rubbish all the time. She told me to fuck-off and go back to do the washing-up later.’
He wandered away but couldn’t keep still. He went to the door then returned and sat on his bed, then decided to take a bath. There was a rudimentary shower-room along the landing, but the plumbing had broken and was awaiting attention. Next door to it was a bathroom and lavvy together that seemed to be a remnant of the past. The bath stood on legs, and the taps were copper, while the lavatory cistern had a chain with a handle which had ‘pull’ written on it.
Sinking lazily into the tub he found comfort in the sweet aroma of rose-petal soap as the silky water lapped over him. When he swung a leg up and pointed his toes he couldn’t help but admire the sight. His feet were girlish and pretty, with cute toes that would take polish and make men want to kiss and suck them.
As lather spread across the surface to accumulate in pyramids of suds he reached forward to clutch the pink soap in his slender hands. It was hard to his touch. Hard and slippery, and when he stroked it against his chest he noticed how puffy and pouty his nipples were. Men were likely to fight to kiss them when they put on a show like that.
Dipping into the water he rubbed his flat tummy and the small gold ring that adorned his bellybutton and allowed his thoughts to drift. Like a lucky few who were favoured by nature he had an innocence about him that projected a protective envelope to seal him into his own sunny climate. His eyes transmitted a vivacious sparkle when he smiled and he was incurably optimistic. Even being employed as a kitchen-help for a while didn’t dampen his outlook. He wasn’t good at lots of things but he reckoned he was good at cleaning. When he did the sink he got into all the corners and didn’t miss out the scuzzy bit around the overflow or ignore the underside of the taps.
In addition to his heart-wrenching beauty Poppy had an engaging personality and he liked pleasing people. He’d had sex with more men than anyone else he knew, and because of that some people called him a slut. What they didn’t realise was that when he did have sex, even if it was just giving a blow job to the nice young man who delivered the minced beef, he did it to please them. He planned to do nice things for nice men until he fell off the planet.
Men had always given him lots of attention, and with childlike conceit he’d basked in their flattery and learned how to pose around in ways that encouraged it.
That’s why Mr Hardwick used him as a photo-model so often. He was a pantywaist who knew instinctively how to position his figure and how to compose appropriate expressions. He could portray a sleazy tart if required, or act the naughty lad with mischievous, heavy-lidded come hither eyes. Alternatively, he could take on the guise of a sunny-faced, innocent virgin who seemed completely unaware of the sexuality oozing from him.
He enjoyed doing it. He enjoyed thinking about the hundreds of men who would look at those photographs and how they’d all drool over every aspect of his body – how they’d all do cummies while imagining doing things with him. Men loved sissies. They loved pretty girls with cute cocks and delicate pink balls.
He paused. He’d got his hand on something hard beneath the water, and it wasn’t the soap this time. More like a deadly torpedo.
Mr Hardwick always started off with him wearing a few clothes, but they never stayed on for long. He said men wanted to see want was inside a sissy’s pants, and he took the kind of pictures that showed them. He was always full of praise for Poppy’s enormous dangle, he said he had a prick like the clapper on a cathedral bell.
Towards the end of a session Hardwick would ask him to work up a boner, and usually the randy old geezer would offer to help him do it. That always meant there would be a hot time afterwards when the camera was put away, but he didn’t mind that. Mellow middle-aged men like Hardwick could be quite passionate, and they were sort of grateful if a pretty boy allowed them a fuck.
Sometimes things worked out different. Hardwick became excited quickly on occasions and he’d do a gooey blast in his trousers halfway through a session. Then he’d say he didn’t wish to do anything else. That was fine for him of course, but disappointing for a sissy who had been primed for having a hot and vigorous length visit him.
He’d developed quite an oversized snorkel between his legs by that time just thinking about things, and it passed through his mind to please himself right there in the bath, but then he decided he wasn’t going to settle for something so bland.
When he returned to the dormitory he brushed his hair, and fresh from the bath he swathed a towel across his bed and lay down to let his thoughts drift again. He enjoyed being a member of a non-testosterone gender and to be sent to a place full of sissy-boys who adored him was unbelievable good fortune. Shame there were none in the room at the moment.
His shiny gold tresses were pulled back into a chignon. Everybody like Poppy and he accepted that with the equanimity of the beautiful. Toying with his own nipples he imagined himself wearing a tiny pink bikini and laying on a sun-heated tropical beach far away. Around him sat a dozen muscular teenage boys, all gorgeous and all wanting him. With their pants tenting out they would be vying for his attention and waiting for him to say who should kiss him, who should suck his tits and who should shag him first.
Rising up he walked to the mirror, allowed the towel to fall away and looked at himself. He knew he was cute and he liked to admire his delicate feminine beauty. His smooth skin and rounded face did give him a kind of girlish appearance, and his greeny-blue eyes which he liked to describe as emerald or sapphire reinforced the illusion. When he looked down at his slender body, his abdomen, though firm and flat still revealed a mannequins waist.
Yes, he had a big cock of course and without clothes there was no doubt he was a young man, but the reflection didn’t do justice to his mindset or the urges he revelled in. He was beautiful, sexy and desirable, and he loved playing the role of a girl probably more than any other sissy in the school. He was becoming girlier every day and he loved all the attention that brought him – he especially loved all the cock that came with it.
He went to his locker and quickly put on the peignoir he had been allowed to keep after his night with Miss Hancock. It clung to him more like a gossamer cloud than a garment, and still emitted an intoxicating perfume. He sli
pped on a pair of skimpy panties too, then looked in the mirror again. Now he looked like he felt, dressed to the nines, feminine and frisky. The bath had given a rosy glow to his skin and his eyes sparkled, but it was a inner heat that now possessed him.
Settling once more on the bed he hugged his knees and again glanced at Abigail. At the far end of the room the head-girl was still poised over papers, silent unless groaning in exasperation on finding an error in his work.
Poppy pouted thoughtfully. He knew only too well of the gigantic prick Abigail had in his pants, and it could provide exactly the kind of attention a boy’s arse needed if he was in a girly frame of mind.
Feeling like a screen goddess he slipped from his bed and sissied down the room towards him. He smiled warmly, the gentle drift of the short night-dress against his skin setting his senses aglow.
Abigail glared. ‘What do you want now?’
‘Oh, I was just thinking that perhaps I could help you.’
‘Fat chance!’ Abigail sneered, ‘You’re unpredictable and chaotic. You’ve got windmills in your head and you’ll be nothing but a nuisance. Goodness only knows what you’ll do when you leave this place.’
Poppy remained oblivious of the harsh words. ‘Miss Hancock – your mum – she says I may go into a sultan’s harem.’ He stared at the notes on the table. ‘I say, maybe I can surprise you. I know masses of stuff about lots of things actually.’
In truth he didn’t understand anything he saw nor did he really care tuppence for it anyway, he was merely intent on making Abigail aware of the pretty peignoir and the skimpy panties beneath it that barely covered his bottom.
An absent-minded movement caused the little fluttering negligee to swirl, and a pile of written notes were dragged from the tabletop to fall in a heap on the floor.
‘Christ! – ‘ Abigail shook his head in disbelief, ‘ – I can’t understand how you can be so clumsy.’
Poppy quickly stooped down to gather the paper up. ‘Golly, sorry Abigail. I don’t know what happened.’
The head-girl swivelled his chair outwards and angrily grabbed one of Poppy’s wrists. ‘I don’t know why you thought to annoy me but you’re going to rue ever coming near this table, you faggot.’
Poppy’s face paled. ‘W-what are you going to do?’
‘Get over my knees.’ Abigail demanded.
‘B-but Abigail, you’re not allowed to spank me. Not on the bottom.’
Abigail gave a forceful tug that dragged him halfway down across his lap. ‘Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do.’ Poppy at once submitted and lowered his body, and Abigail yanked up the negligee to find little powder-blue panties that were a girly-tease. Infuriated, his hand went down flat and sharp. WHAP!
‘Ahwoo! Abigail, don’t, please!’ twitted Poppy.
WHAP! again, and the young sissy’s soft creamy bottom began to blush around the outline of his pants.
‘How long have you been at Fairyfield?’ demanded Abigail.
‘Two – two terms.’
‘Long enough to know that over-the-knee punishment is always given on the bare bottom. Is that right?’
‘Y-yes, Abigail.’
‘Are you sure? How is it given?’
‘On the bare b-bottom, Abigail.’
‘Right! Which means what?’
‘Er – I – don’t know.’
WHACK! Poppy’s bum swerved wildly as Abigail’s hand smacked down again. ‘It means you should take your pants down,’ – SMACK! – ‘that’s what it means.’
Hurriedly Poppy raised his hips and wriggled his pants beyond his buttocks. WALLOP! ‘Ooch!’ WHACK! ‘OWW!’
Poppy’s bottom trembled under the smacking. His pretty bum bobbed up and down helplessly and he pressed his thighs together and rocked side to side as the bared flesh, and the tops of his legs further down started to pinken to a soft, even glow.
SMACK! Abigail struck him slightly harder, and told him what a good girl he was for taking it so well, but he had to be punished for being so clumsy.
‘Yes, b-but – OUCH! – my b-bottom’s so sore – OWW!’
The senior sissy refused to relent and Poppy’s rump suffered a stream of sharp, smarting blows, each stinging impact qualified by a succinct reprimand. CRACK! ‘Naughty bottom for being so sissy-pretty.’ WHACK! Naughty bottom for being so saucy.’ SMACK! ‘Naughty bum for being a girly tease.’
Poppy’s quiet gasps of torment became very audible moans. WALLOP! ‘Naughty cutie for showing it off.’ continued Abigail. SPLATT! Naughty girl for making men look.’ BLATT! ‘Naughty girl for letting men see it.’ TWAK! ‘Naughty queen for letting them fuck it.’
Poor Poppy’s tender bottom jerked, juddered and writhed again and again as its skin became hotter and turned a deeper red. Then he found himself being toppled from Abigail’s lap to sprawl on the floor. He felt rather sorry for himself but was surprisingly undamaged. The punishment had been only a little more severe than a lovers spanking, delivering just enough twang with each swat to make him wriggle. Just enough harshness to stir a boys blood and leave him panting. Just enough pain to make a sissy humble and obedient.
Gazing up he wondered what would follow, and he was just in time to see Abigail hooking his thumbs into his own panties and pushing them down. His eyes glowed as Abigail’s fully erect cock leapt into view and bounced up and down, while his heavy cum-laden balls swung between his legs. The head-girl’s huge cock was sticking straight up and displaying bulging veins on the underside of its shaft. It was bell-topped and big with the durability of an iron bar, and it was demanding attention.
Mesmerised by the monolith before him Poppy cooed in admiration. Confident and proud to know it was his own proximity that had caused it to rear up, his discomfort was instantly forgotten. ‘Wow, what a chopper!’
‘Christ Poppy, you say the same imbecile things every time.’
Without rising from his knees Poppy crawled between his legs. He wanted to suck that sissy monster and swallow all its sissy cream. ‘But it IS a whopper Abigail. It goes all the way up your belly. It’s a lovely meaty thing as big as the Eiffel tower. Even Hard-dick-Hardwick hasn’t got one as big as yours.’ He always believed it did no harm to stroke a sissy’s ego as well as his stiff meat.
Abigail was well aware that Poppy’s own penis was a match for his own, but while the faggot never used his for anything more than hand-games his own was the property of an alpha-bitch. He grabbed the back of Poppy’s head and pulled him towards his crotch leaving him in no doubt as to exactly what was expected.
Wide eyed, heart fluttering Poppy’s trembling fingers took hold of the straining flesh and began to slide his fingers up and down the handsome tower of flesh. Half covering and then uncovering the mushroom shaped tip he worked a sheath of foreskin up and down whilst simultaneously playing with the head-girls huge ball sack. Slowly he turned his face upward and let his tongue flirt beneath the rim of the swollen head where he knew males were most sensitive, then he licked up all the way to the gland at the tip.
‘Umph!’ He grunted. He was excited himself and couldn’t resist stroking his own stiffening willy at the same time. He loved sucking dick. Abigail’s magnificent rammer was leaking and throbbing, and he eased a little of the tension by smearing the pre-cum onto Poppy’s beautiful rosy cheeks. That encouraged the more subservient sissy to lean forward and take the whole fat, pink knob into his sweet mouth and begin to suck it and lick it in a circular motion.
He sucked eagerly, easing his lips down the vertical pole as far as he could without choking and then bringing them back to the knob. Mmmm. Abigail’s pre-goo tasted no different to anyone else’s, but it was nice. Pushing down again he flattened his tongue and pushed the weighty meat against the roof of his mouth before drawing on it with his lips. In response the head-girl bucked his thighs and forced a massive length to the back of the sissy’s
mouth.
Mm! Poppy loved that! He swallowed hard and tried to take the point beyond the back of his throat. It wasn’t easy and the size of it made him gag, but once he remembered to relax his muscles the big sausage went down smoothly. Then by breathing through his nose he was able to undulate his throat like a caterpillar, as up and down, up and down, went his sucking mouth on the head-sissies enormous doodle. Abigail began groaning, so he knew he was doing it right.
‘Hold on!’ Abigail suddenly said. ‘You’ve a nice talent harem-boy and I love fucking down inside your neck, but I don’t want to shoot right away.’ He eased Poppy away and rose to his feet. Lifting the fragile pleasure-giver with him he then turned him about and bit softly into the back of his neck in the manner of a tomcat subduing its mate. Poppy certainly meowed like a cat but his eyes shone in secret triumph, since he’d elicited exactly the kind of response he’d set out to achieve. When Abigail whirled him around again he was more than ready for the hot mouth that slushed against his own.
‘Okay, you randy prick-teaser,’ Abigail husked, ‘I’m ready to play the kind of game you want. Get on the bed and wait for me – but get rid of that stupid nightie first.’
***
Wendy entered the dormitory to hear the metal springs of a bed squeaking noisily, and then he saw the head-girl working his hips back and forth, madly pumping his big cock in and out of Poppy’s minuscule bottom with boundless energy. Abigail and Poppy were engaged in a full-heated fuck.
It wasn’t an uncommon sight to view such things in a sissy bedroom. Privacy was unknown in the dormitories, but as a rule most other residents waited until later in the evening before seeking out passion. In his arrogance Abigail frequently never sought either privacy or decorum.
He leaned against the door and stood still for a moment, envy simmering inside like a volcano ready to erupt. With fists clutching the bedcovers Poppy was stretched on his belly beneath Abigail, legs splayed, a pillow stuffed under his thighs, while Abigail lay on top of him, straggling his buttocks. Fully dressed apart from a lack of underwear Abigail’s skirt was hoisted up and his massive balls-bags were slapping onto Poppy’s helpless girly bottom as his hips heaved and plunged his super-sized shaft easily in and out of his companions sissy-boy pussy.
Muscles rigid, face taut and totally at the mercy of the head-girl’s more mature sissy lust Poppy was squeaking like a girl and whimpering unintelligible noises through clenched teeth.. Abigail’s slippery, turbulent penis was moving ever faster, disappearing and reappearing in rapid shunts as he tensed up to make a grand finish.
Somehow Wendy held in the anger of jealousy he felt inside. ‘Er, sorry to intrude, Abigail, but Miss Twist wants to see you tout de suite, She wants to know how far you’ve got with the work you’re doing for her.’
He was aware Abigail was susceptible to interruptions and he could have delayed giving the message for a minute or two, but he deliberately decided not to do that. Intimacy with Abigail in the past had made him familiar with some of his peculiarities. He knew that a message requiring an immediate response could soak up his thoughts and possibly kill his ardour, and knowing that he took malicious delight in disturbing his cousin’s smug complacency. It was a horrible trick. A fiendish thing to do. But there weren’t many other ways he could deal out vengeance for being ignored.
The squeak of the bedsprings subsided and then ceased. ‘That’s put me right off.’ Abigail fumed.
Detaching himself from Poppy he rolled away and reached for his pants. ‘I hate being rushed, so you’re going to have to wait until I get back.’ he told the gasping pantyboy.
Even after witnessing Abigail enmeshed in such carnal intimacy with another Wendy longed to rekindle their relationship. He sat on the end of a bed further down the room, his mind crowded with confusion. He’d tried to hate Abigail, but could only think about being with him, how wonderful he was, the way his lips curved and turned up in a little crease that demanded to be kissed. He wanted to declare his affection, but knew it was pointless, so he remained silent.
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