Slavegirl Sissy

I push your hand away and stroke your ass with the ruler, rubbing it gently across your skin, just getting you acquainted with it. Brushing your cheeks in slow, wide circles, then...smack! You make a noise, half gasp, half moan, and lunge forward, away from the smacking strip of steel. But I am relentless; I track you as you try to squirm away from me, raining blow after blow on your backside.

The ruler is thin, flexible and whippy and I use that effect to aim the sharp end at your most sensitive areas. I strike between your cheeks, on your inner thighs, on that oh-so-tender area behind the scrotum. The ballsac itself gets some attention too although you quickly learn that keeping your thighs pressed together will protect those sensitive bits from my attentions. But nothing stands between me and the rest of your soft, white flesh. Your legs and backside are soon turning red under the force of my blows.

As usual I have started off slowly, allowing time for your flesh to become accustomed to the sensations, time for the blood to rise to the surface of the skin. But (also as usual) I do not stay gentle for long; soon your yelps and squirmings demonstrate real pain. I will beat you ever harder and faster, pushing you just past the edge of your tolerance...then stop, stroke your skin lovingly, press kisses against your quivering cheeks, murmer words of passionate devotion until your breathing eases and your body relaxes...only to begin the beating once again. I tend to follow a rule of threes when I am dishing out a beating: three crescendos of pain to stir the endorphins and flood your body with that delicious neurochemical cocktail. Three peaks of divine agony to drive your consciousness ever deeper into subspace. Three cycles of pushing you the breaking point then bringing you back: my recipie for subbie goo.

I've given up on talking much now as I exert myself to discipline you physically. I am not holding back and you are sincerely trying to squirm away as I reach those crescendos. By the third one you are near sobbing and have belly-crawled all the way across the bed. Your ass is way past red; there are nasty looking stripes where the edge of the ruler has caught. I deliver a last few vicious blows and fling the ruler aside as I reach for you. "Come here slut" I growl as I pull your shaking body into my embrace. I wrap my arms and legs around you, capturing as much as comforting, raining kisses on your face and hungrily nipping at your oh-so-vulnerable throat.

Abusing you has turned me on.

{to be continued}

My gorgeous colleague Delia and her site Delia TS just won the Best Amateur TG Site Tranny, hooray!

Delia totally deserves it. I've been aquainted with she and her girlfriend Trixie for about five years now. They were some of the first people I met when I got started on my journey of becoming a professional sexpot. And all through that time they have been inspiring me with the honest and sincere passion they share for each other, and for the business of making ethical, intelligent smut that is also REALLY FUCKING HOT.

Check out this freebie gallery of Delia as a donut girl. {Click the pic to see the gallery} Ain't she a sweet sissy treat?

I pulled the most incredible, classic mindfuck on tia today. Possibly my best mindfuck EVER.

You should understand first that tia is scheduled for a punishment, and she KNOWS that punishment is going to be getting pissed on by both Izzy and myself. This would be a dream come true for many sissies I know; for my slut it's almost enough to make her safeword. She is fastidious to the point, almost, of obsessiveness. So this form of punishment is going to be deeply humbling.

We were sitting in her room, both on our repective computers. We'd been talking a few minutes before; I don't recall what about. Something to do with kink, or our lifestyle, or our relationship. So it was a tangent, but not completely unrelated, when I announced "I really need to urinate."

Pregnant pause.

"Um, thanks for sharing Mistress?"

"What's the matter slut, feeling nervous?" I stand and move behind him in the chair, wrapping my arms around him and murmuring in his ear. "You should be. Now come with me."

I lead the way to the bathroom. By the time we get there, 2 whole seconds later, my slut is already stripping his clothes off.

(As far as he's concerned, the only thing worse than getting peed on is getting peed on while dressed. I know because we've discussed it - and a number of other possibilities - in recent days as I've teased and taunted him about his upcoming punishment. I admit I am looking forward to this one with sadistic glee. Knowing how fastidious my slut is makes me delight in torturing him this way. And seeing how...submissive he is...is a huge thrill. How he is bowing his head and meekly saying "Yes Mistress" to something that repulses him. How his little cockette stiffens and throbs, vividly demonstrating his joy in being taken to depths he never would have reached alone. Mmmm.)

"Did I say you could do that slut?" I inquire, sternly.

"No, Mistress" he squeaks, frozen in the act of pulling off his shirt.

I pause, hand to my cheek, as if considering. "All right slut, I guess you can take your clothes off."

I never intended him to keep them on, but this little faux concession now feels like a tremendous reprieve to my apprehensive subbie. It convinces him even more deeply that I am serious, that I am going to go through with it, that he will shortly be bathed in a shower of warm piss. I can see the shudders of dread/arousal going through him. I can see the relief & gratitude playing across his face and body too.

It's thrilling to watch; I feel a tremendous sense of power in being able to take him, in a matter of seconds, so far down the rabbit hole of submission. And to do it using nothing but words and thoughts and my deep knowledge of how this slave responds. I find myself getting quite aroused by it.

He moves as if to kneel and I interrupt him "In the bathtub slut." He steps into the tub. "Now on your knees" He kneels before me, face turned up beseechingly, silently pleading with me to spare him. Or maybe pleading with me not to spare him - I don't think he could tell the difference at this point. His little willy is pointing straight out, as throbbingly hard as I have ever seen it.

"Head down slut" He utters a little whimpering moan as he obeys. His entire body quivers with anticipation. I pause, savoring my triumph over this enslaved male...and then sit down on the toilet, crying "psych!" as I begin to urinate.

His quivering body was thrilling to watch before, now it is hilarious. I burst into maniacal giggles as he first collapses in shuddering relief, then lifts himself to look at me. His expression is priceless, a mix of relief, astonishment, deeply aroused submission...and sheer joy in devilry. After all, we share that smart-assed sense of humor. His delighted awe at my jest must fill his heart to overflowing too.

I finish my business and, sitting with my legs spread wide apart, issue another order: "Use the paper and wipe me slut."

Without hesitation he reaches for the toilet paper and dries me. He's awkward, leaves me damp, and I have to tell him to do it a second time. As he's stroking my pussy lips dry I kiss his forehead and murmer "You know what the best part is slut? The best part is that at this minute you are truly, deeply grateful to be allowed to wipe my pussy after I peed. And that is exactly how you should feel. Always."

He shivers and moans, once again caught in helpless arousal. And that's all the answer I need.

I tilt my head back and close my eyes momentarily, imagining that the rubber dong is real flesh, that I can really feel it sliding down your hot, wet throat. The thought makes my pussy hum & gives an extra swing to my hips as I thrust into your mouth. But soon enough the sight of your cute ass, wiggling around as you suck my cock, inspires me to think of other things.

I yank your head off my dick and push you to the side. Seating myself at the edge of the bed I direct you to lie across my lap. You are heavy and warm, and trembling with anticipation. "Ahh, now this is how I like to see you...all smooth and soft and spread out for my pleasure." I remark as I pull down your panties and caress the soft globes of your buttocks. I spread your cheeks apart, minutely examining your most private area. A slave has no privacy from his Mistress, as I have reminded you on many occasions.

Reaching across your body I grab the bottle of lube sitting on the nightstand. I manage to get the damn awkward cap open (who designed this thing?) and squeeze a dollop of cold gel onto you. I spread it around and slip one finger in. You are hot and velvety inside, and your anus clenches around my probing finger. I continue my commentary "mmm, that's a nice tight asshole slut. I can feel it squeezing and twitching around my finger. I bet that feels so good on a real cock. Don't you think it would?" You whimper. "Aww, what's the matter, slut, are you embarassed? Is this one of those moments that makes you seriously reconsider your lifestyle choices?" I chuckle evilly as you whimper some more.

"Yep, here you are, wearing an extremely femmy nightgown, purple satin panties, and a dog collar and lying across my lap as I finger your ass. It is quite ridiculous you have to admit. But isn't this what you've always wanted?" This time you moan, and your movements tell me that my words are taking you even deeper down the rabbit hole of submission.

"Admit it slut. What are you?"
"I'm your slave Mistress."
"My nasty little assfucking whore?"
Another moan "yes, Mistress"
"Say it."
"I'm your nasty ass whore."
"That's right slut, you are, and don't you ever forget it."

The patter continues as I continue molesting your bum. You squirm in my lap, whimpering and moaning as I finger-fuck you. "I can't believe you give me such a hard time about doing this to yourself slut. How are you ever going to become the ass-whore I want you to be if you don't practice? I mean, this is really not so difficult is it?" More whimpering as I shove my finger in as deep as it will go, and wiggle it around vigorously. "In fact, I think you should do a little practice on yourself right now, with me here to observe you."

The noise you make this time is a pleading whine. My response is a smack on your butt. "You heard me slut, get up on your knees and finger your ass for me." You look at me, that special look of resentment mixed with helpless arousal that says "I can't believe you're making me do this...and I can't believe I want you to!" and I laugh at you again. "That's it my little sissy, get that finger all the way up in that nasty sissy ass."

I squeeze another dollop of lube onto your crack and you gingerly touch yourself, pushing just the very tip of your finger partway inside. "Not like that slut...all the way. Here, let me help you" I say as I press your hand firmly, forcing your to insert your finger in to the second knuckle. "Now slut, I want you to finger yourself and show me what a slut you are."

You moan again but obey, closing your eyes and humping back against your hand. I admire the curve of your hip, the line of your wrist, the tone of your blushing skin. It's quite thrilling, watching you: your cringes and hesitant fumbling show just how embarassed and uncomfortable you feel. You clearly don't want to be doing these nasty, sluttish things I am ordering you to do. But you do them anyway, compelled by your need to submit to me. The experience of being forced to act like an exhibitionistic whore turns you on more than gentle pleasantness ever could, and we both know it.

Forcing you turns me on too, and calls out my inner sadist. "I owe you such a beating slut. You've earned a lot of punishment lately, with your slacking off and your self-indulgence. But this beating," I remark as I reach for the ruler, "is going to be purely for my pleasure."

to be continued...

We've both been sick, and aren't feeling especially vigorous. But no way am I going to let you get away with that outfit - sweatpants and a ratty tshirt? I think not. So I order you to go change. "Put on that sheer white mesh nightgown with red hearts printed all over it, it's in your cupboard."

You return in the required attire, and as usual it's slightly twisted on your masculine frame. I order you to turn this way and that as I adjust the clinging gown on your body. The process seems to hypnotize you; your boyish stiffness is melting away.

We sit down together and you snuggle up against me, tucking yourself into my side. As we watch the movie I stroke your hair...your neck...your shoulder...kiss your forehead. Seeing your large frame curled femininely around my legs stirs my passion; I turn into you, wrap my fingers in your hair and pull your head back to plunder your mouth with mine. I slip my other hand inside your gown, pinching and rubbing your puffy nipple and squeezing your tiny sissy titties.

Soon you are moaning and humping against my leg, your little cockette stiff and throbbing in your purple satin panties. I've been biding my time, waiting til we were both feeling perkier to play. Now is definitely the moment. I sit up, pulling you up with me, and give you your orders: "I want you to get my harness, the purple fairy dildo and the big one Mistress Candice gave us, take them to your room and kneel and wait for me. I'll be there shortly.

After a leisurely trip to the bathroom - and a side trip to collect a steel ruler - I enter your room. You are kneeling, hands behind your back, on the bed. The items I requested are spread before you. I plonk down in front of you and pick up the harness. "I don't suppose you thought to bring the O rings, did you slut?"

"Huh, Mistress?"

"The O rings. I need a larger O ring if I am to be able to mount the big dildo in the harness."

"Well, um, Mistress, you don't really need to use the larger one, do you?" Ever the silly slut, attempting to charm me from my purpose. "Oh but I do slut...even if this one's too big for your tight little ass you still have another hole for me to fuck. And I have to say I very much enjoy the way your pretty mouth looks when it's crammed full of my cock."

You moan helplessly as I demonstrate, shoving the larger dildo firmly into your mouth. "Here slut, hold this for me."

"Give me your hands" You hold out your arms, palms up, to accept the red suede cuffs I fasten around your wrists. "Now sit back on that cute little bottom and give me your feet" You do as instructed, and I fasten the matching cuffs around your ankles.

"Too bad you didn't bring the O rings slut. I was thinking about sitting on your chest and fucking your mouth." I remark as I grab hold of the dildo still held firmly in your mouth. "I really enjoy shoving my cock in your pretty face like that." I begin to demonstrate, pushing the dildo deeper. I thrust it in and out a few times, then abruptly yank it out and stand beside the bed. Grabbing your hair, I pull your head down to the level of my crotch, where I'm now holding the dildo against my pubic mound. "Suck me, slut, show me what a good little sissy cocksucker you're becoming."

You try to oblige, bobbing your head up and down eagerly on my plastic phallus, but that's not quite what I am in the mood for. Soon I have your hair gripped in my fingers, usinng it to position you and hold you still as I thrust my hips forcefully against your face. I fuck your mouth roughly like this for just a few strokes, then pull out and rub the head of my dick against your cheeks, your forehead, even poking it into your eyes. I want to rub it in your face, literally and powerfully, that you are my cocksuscking sissy whore from now on out. This will be the rest of your life: on your knees as often as possible, with your ass in the air and your head buried in someone's crotch, mouth and face full of cock.

I tell you so, over and over, as I alternate between fucking your mouth and rubbing my wet cock around on your helpless face. "You're nothing but a cocksuscking sissy whore, isn't that right slut? Admit it."

"I'm a cocksucking sissy whore, Mistress" you moan.

"You love to have your mouth full of dick, don't you slut?"

"I love having my sissy mouth full of dick."

"And you love to eat all that delicious cum too, don't you?"

You moan again, wordlessly. You don't like the taste of cum, not yet, not really...but you crave being used by me so much that you know you have no choice. You'll eat it...you'll say you like it...and sooner or later you WILL like it, purely because I have ordered you to and you are so thoroughly my slave.

to be continued

I don't much care to write about the negative stuff in our lives, although there is certainly plenty of it. We're all zooming into middle age, and have collected our share of dents and dings. We are, not to put too fine a point on it, dirt poor. And Izzy and I have two pre-adolescent kids to care for. That all by itself precludes our living a porn-fantasy life.

But this weekend was above and beyond normal c'est la vie.

You see, my extremely Christian sister showed up on our doorstep on January 1st, having brought her entire family (huband and 3 children) for a visit. Surprise!

Did I mention the extremely Christian part? As in prays to Jesus for driving directions, not having an xmas tree, and being against Harry Potter kind of Christian. She does not know I am a dominatrix who specializes in feminizing males, that I've made amateur porn, that I live a polyamorous lifestyle having significant sexual relationships with people other than my spouse. Even if she could, intellectually, comprehend these things I'm pretty sure she would find them morally repugnant.

I'm not the sort of person to be secretive about anything. It's difficult for me to keep from talking about my work or my kinky, lust-filled life. In the interests of family harmony therefore I have been keeping my distance from her for years. I really don't feel that longing for "sisterhood" that the stereotype of womanhood demands so this hasn't been difficult at all. It's been a simple matter of avoiding someone I have vast areas of disagreement with, who really plays no part in my life.

Like most families we've had some drama in our past. The canyon that lies between my sister and I now began as a smaller rift some years ago. And I realized this weekend that she thinks I am still angry with her for those events.

I owe it to her to tell her that I bear her no ill will for those things. I have so much more important stuff to be concerned about now - Izzy's heart condition, son's autism, even my struggling business. What would be the point in clinging to anger over things that have long since ceased to matter? But I will also be telling her WHY I maintain this distance between us. (Part of it anyway...enough to illustrate the vastness of the gulf between us, and not enough for her to actually FIND any of my websites. I hope. :-p)

Just have to wait and see if the revelation starts a whole new family conflict.