A Submissive Sissy

Here you'll find my favorites Sissy & Femdom stories, the best one I've ever read over the net since many years and believe me, that's a lot ! I'm also a wool fetishist, so you may come accross this type of topic around here too... Hope you'll like it !

Sian Seteyan

The Complex

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Two blocks down, two blocks over. Towards the sea. God, it was good to be back on the coast, near the Ocean. Even if it was the North Sea, and the weather was grey, cold, and somewhat oppressive. After two years teaching English in the center of Eastern Europe, a change like this could be just what the doctor ordered. At least that is what Louis thought. Little did he know what he was walking into...

Louis was an odd guy even for an American. He was the product of a rather unique family history: His mother had emigrated to California from Vietnam, and was living the American Dream, working as a go-go dancer in San Francisco – his father had been a professor at Berkeley, who had been sure that love, the love he felt for Louis's mother, could transcend language, culture, and even class. The marriage had ended almost before the pregnancy was over. His mother split, heading for Hollywood, and his father went back to his work, ignoring the fact that he now had an infant son. The Professor – the genius – it turned out he was not smart enough to change a diaper. Louis was basically raised by his crazy aunt, living in Oakland. She taught him how to talk, to walk, how to find a bargain – as a toddler he was going to swap meets with her on the weekends.

Then, at the young age of 12, Louis's father had died in a horrible car accident, leaving Louis richer, but even more confused. He had not known his super-intellectual father too well, he had never really met his mother, and now all he had was his crazy aunt. His crazy aunt who just got crazier and crazier – knitting until two in the morning in her living room - with the lights off, convinced that ghosts would visit her if they could see her.

Surprisingly, for all of this, Louis turned out o.k. He finished high school and then went on to Berkeley – squeezing in not so much on his grades than on his deceased father's reputation. And then he had decided to go abroad, to live somewhere else for a while. Prague had presented itself, and truly the only qualification you needed was a tongue in your head. Louis had become an English teacher, met some nice people, watched them come and go. He even had a Czech girlfriend for a second, but she had given up on their relationship after a while. Louis was not surprised. He was getting used to relationships not lasting and people leaving his life...

Louis was not a total misanthrope mind you. Louis was friendly, and actually quite good-looking – his Eurasian features and slim body went over well with the ladies. He kind of had that rockstar vibe – skinny, mop of dark hair, bit of a loner. If Louis had worked it, he might have made more friends - you know, expanded his social circle.

But Louis wasn't worried because he had a whole OTHER social circle - his online friends...

With the internet, you know, you truly never have to be without friends. Even solitary loners have yahoo groups these days, hermits probably had chat rooms. Louis was of the generation where the internet was second nature. He always kept his laptop with him, and had numerous online groups and chat sites he frequented. Some normal, some not so normal. By the end of his stay in Prague he had a detailed map of hotspots where he could steal a wireless signal. Why fi? Why not.

It had been his internet connections that had led to this trip to the UK. A long-term friend from a particular online community had mentioned a free apartment up north in England. Free! For a month. So he jumped on it. Louis was a little tired of speaking pidgin Czech, tired of the teaching too – it got old pretty fast to tell the truth. He had given notice and bought a one way ticket to London. Maybe he would visit Scotland. See the castles.

A plane, two trains and a bus later - here he was. Walking the streets of Smytheton, breathing in the salt air. Once it had been a tiny beach town, a Victorian weekend resort, but now industry and a commuter culture had given it a new life. Blocks and blocks of new buildings surrounded the older houses – each street leading down to the beach and the sea. He checked the printout of his friend's email - two blocks down, and then...he thought he could see the building. Sadly, the architecture reminded him of all the communis-tic, Eastern Block cement he had just left behind. But at least it was a different country. The building was called The Teller Apartments, and it took up an entire block, a perfect square. It was grey, not tall - with only four floors, and odd little non-functional balconies surrounding the windows. The windows themselves looked little used, all of them were shuttered, with that 1970's plastic paneling above and below them...All in all it looked a little like a fortress.

Louis fished out the email for the fifteenth time. The entry code for the front door was printed there, and the neighbor's name – Marie – she would let Louis in. He checked the details, refolded the paper, put it away. But two steps later, he would pull the paper out of his back pocket, anxiously checking it again.

Louis was nervous for a reason. The woman who had lent him the apartment – she was actually a bit...odd. He had met her on a fetish discussion page, and they hit it off because they shared some rather 'obscure' desires. Nothing weird, like farm animals. Not that weird. But, well, a fetish is a funny thing. They had become close, intimates really - they had even traded snapshots, pictures, and then some incredibly embarrassing personal information. In fact Louis was not sure he could ever take meeting DarkLily2000 in person, they were so intensely intimate online. But Lily Parver, the woman mind you not the fetishist, she had offered him the apartment – so...

You have to understand the compartmentalized mind of the fetishist. It is like a cement wall between apartments. You can do anything you want in those two apartments, you can be an angel in one and a devil in the other, and no one has to know.

Louis was just worried that people would know. That they would somehow figure out that he was borrowing this apartment from a zentai nut he had met on the web. And that he was one too.

Zentai is the fetish of wearing skin tight clothes. Full bodysuits. Sometimes it crosses over with uniform fetishes, spandex fetishes, superhero costume fetishes and of course the worlds of rubber and latex, bondage, and submission. It was a strange fetish in that it was not always that sexual. It reduced you to a smooth, often shiny avatar – not a person exactly. Women of course looked like women, and men – especially when excited - looked like men. But there was no outward display of sexuality. Without a zippered entry, sex was not even possible.

So, as Louis walked along the street, getting closer and closer to the Teller Apartments, he wondered if everyone would know him for the freak he was. If he would look like a faceless zentai guy to everyone he met.

He had no idea...

In the entry lobby of the Teller Apartments, an austere chrome and marble room, Louis rang the buzzer for Marie's apartment. No one in sight, no real activity.

Finally someone answered the line, and a somewhat annoyed female voice listened to Louis explain who he was. Finally she said – I will be down in like five minutes, o.k.? Louis said sure, he had no real choice in the matter. He paced around the little lobby, and he noticed a room off the main entryway, to the right of the glassed-off elevators. You had to have a key, or the code, to get past the glass doors to the elevators. That was the security situation, here in Northern England. It was like that everywhere, wasn't it?

So Louis went wandering into the little anteroom, which was in fact the mailroom. All around him stretched mailbox after mailbox. Little stainless steel boxes. A bulletin board on the wall at the back was almost bare. The only notice was a little printed card. It said COMPLEX MEETING SATURDAY NIGHT – ATTENDANCE MANDATORY.

That was odd, a Saturday night apartment meeting. As if no one had anything better to do. Well, Louis was just a guest, a sub-letter, he would not have to go.

Kind of an un-sociable place, he thought, as welcoming as a police station.

There was a DING, and the elevator door opened. Louis headed back into the lobby expecting to see Marie, but instead there was a rather large bear of a man exiting the building. He stopped when he saw Louis and said, Can I help you? It was as rude as Northern England can be, cold and brusque. Louis shook his head, said he was waiting for someone. The bear considered this, he was wearing a beaten up leather coat over jeans. Looked a bit like a biker – like some of the bikers back in San Francisco.

Why not wait outside, he said, and he seemed serious. Luckily at that moment the elevator DINGED again, and a slight woman stepped out, wearing a long, thick sweater coat belted around her middle. Her hair was dark, a shaggy mess, and her eyes seemed to be blacker still, or maybe that was the mascara. Early for makeup, thought Louis.

Hello, said the odd little woman. The sweater coat was black and thick and almost furry – way too big for her. She looked at the big mean biker and said, It's o.k. Andrew, friend of Lily's.

O.K. then, said the biker, turning his back on them both. He shambled off.

Marie approached the glass door and peered at Louis. What she was thinking was hard to tell. Finally she unlocked the glass door and opened it.

She said you were cute, Marie said with a smile, extending one hand but keeping the other on the belt of her sweater coat. It was such a monstrous coat, it almost touched the floor.

Louis took the extended hand and shook it, made small talk – about the trip, the weather, the lack of baggage.

Always travel light, Louis said, that's what my old man taught me.

Actually his old man had taught him little except for a paranoid fear of the government and all foreign wars.

Marie invited him in, smiling, chatting away. She never let go of the hem of her coat, and Louis could see now that she was gripping it tightly to keep it from swinging open. As she backed her way onto the elevator, she turned to hold the open door button and Louis caught just a glimpse of very, very high heels under the shaggy hem. Early for makeup, early for high heels, he thought, maybe she is just going to bed now.

She kept up her lively chatter all the way up to the third floor. Louis liked her, and he was a pretty good judge of character. He just wished he could see what she was wearing under the coat.

At the door to 3-B, Marie fished in the pocket of her coat, and then frowned. Fiddlesticks, she said, and she retreated to her apartment – 3-C. I thought I had the key, she said. There was a loud noise when she went in the door, like someone was glad to see her, followed by some shushing, then Marie reappeared, and Louis thought she might be blushing - maybe she was.

Here we go, she said. She opened the door and let Louis in to the tiny little flat. It's eensy, she said, apologizing. But the bedroom is big, and so is the closet.

Louis didn't care how big or small it was - Louis just wanted to be alone. He was tired from the long journey and he was tingling with desire. That strange fetishistic desire.

Marie made all the polite overtures, knock on my door if you need anything, drop by for some tea – and then she left. Louis stared around him. It was small. The kitchen was just a cubby with a counter and a tiny refrigerator. Lily had warned him that there would not be much to eat there in the minibar, as she called it. The living room was a floppy purple couch that looked like it was leather, or something worse. A tiny TV, and that was it. Behind the kitchen was a bathroom skinny enough for two sardines, and off to the left was a desk - that is where Lily's computer would have been, except she had it with her. She always had her computer with her. But she had told him the wireless network was definitely working. To his right, through a sort of beaded curtain was the bedroom, very sixties, but not so psychedelic. It actually seemed very...heavy. The headboard looked like it had been made by the Marlboro Man back in the 70's – it was one huge burl of wood suspended on two planks. Even the covers looked heavy, an embroidered slip cover with the nubs worn down by time.

On the little note that Lily had sent to Louis, she had said: Please take care of my stuff. Water my cactus. And do not mess with my things – too much.

Also she had written, the apartment building can be lots of fun. Just follow the rules. He, Louis, had thought that meant observe the rules in the recreation room, you know, do not play snooker too loudly, or take turns at the ping pong table.

He was wrong about that too.

It was the closet that really drew Louis in, that was what he wanted to see – and luckily that was almost the biggest thing in the apartment. It was easily as big as the bedroom, and was built as a separate room, a walk in 's walk-in. In other words, there was the entry way, the kitchen/living room/coffin-sized bathroom, and two doors: The beaded entry to the bedroom, on the window side, and the dark wood door to the closet.

Louis tried the door. It was locked. He was crushed.

In there were the treasures, the things that had brought him in to touch with Lily in the first place.

Then he remembered the key ring that Marie had given him. Two keys. He ran his hands through his pocket until he found it, fished it out. No wait, it actually had three keys. He tried it, the first key. No match, the Second, that would be for the front door, but he tried it anyway and it opened. The front door key also opened the closet. How strange. So what was the other one for?

No matter, thought Louis, I am in. He found the pull cord for the light bulb and gave a soft Holy Shit, under his breath. He was in – he was in heaven. So many things to choose from. There were long translucent suits of nylon, full body suits of spandex and/or lycra, and several made of latex - a purple one, and a silvery grey one caught his eye, the rubbery sheen irresistible. He was pretty sure those were too small for him. But the spandex suits would stretch. Beyond that, there were shoes, and drawers of lingerie. Even a wig on a platform. He had seen dark lily dressed in black spandex with that exact wig perched on her head. It had been one of the reasons he had started emailing her.

You can guess what happened next – the quick stripping away of his clothes, a fond stroke or two, then the selection of what to wear. Like choosing which beautiful girl to dance with. He chose a zentai suit of silvery spandex, with only a back entry. As Louis pulled the shiny, rubbery skin up his body he could feel his skin start to tingle, his cock stiffening with each breath.

He changed only twice, into a cocoon like suit that trapped him in a long shaft of spandex, then into a silky black suit that felt like velvet. Somewhere in between there he finished himself off into a condom. But he did not stop playing.

Exhaustion finally won out. He was too tired to take any pictures, or go online...He fell asleep in the velvet bodysuit.

In the middle of the night, Louis's sleep was disturbed – by voices, dim cries of pleasure. Sex, thought Louis, sleepily – at first he was unsure of where he was. The comforting crush of the tight suit was enough to remind him. Sure, he was aroused, sure he was hungry – but he just wanted to sleep. Someone is having fun, he thought dreamily, but he was asleep before the couple next door was.

As the sunlight crept in his window, Louis woke up, in the tight embrace of the zentai suit, hard as a rock. He could not believe he had slept in the suit, slept at all. His cock hurt it was so hard. But he did not give in to the urge to finish himself off right away. Not with that entire closet in there to play with.

Suddenly a knock on his door – it was morning. Right – other people were awake. Here he was half-dressed in spandex, his prominent erection clearly visible. He panicked – he felt like running, hiding – then came Marie's little voice:

Are you alright in there Louis? It's me Marie. I just wanted to check on you, see if you were OK?

Louis stood there, spoke through the door, trying to cover his penis despite the solid wood.

I'm fine, thanks, just about to jump in the shower.

There was a little giggle outside, and then she said, Alright doll, I will see you after work. I got to go earn the rent, you know. Ta-ta, she said, and he could hear her heels click-clacking down the hallway to the elevator.

Louis breathed a sigh of relief. He was not sure he could take another scare like that.

He plopped on the couch, and slowly stripped off the layer of tight, stretchy velveteen. He sat there naked, looking around.

Slowly slowly, the urge came back, his penis found some passing fancy erotic, and the blood began to pump back into it.

What to do, he thought, what to wear? A thought crossed his mind, a frequent visitor to the fetish side of his brain: he had never dressed in full women's regalia. He had fantasies, of course. What guy didn't? Oh well, maybe a lot of guys didn't. But half of those who said 'no way' had probably thought about it at one time or another.

So what to do? He went back in to the closet, stretching his arms. In the back of the closet, on the far wall, was mounted a tall mirror – reflecting Louis's naked body back at him. I am skinny, he thought, must eat. He was starving, but hungrier for this kind of experience than for food. He brushed his hand along the various outfits, stopping on a cat woman suit that was either very stretchy rubber or a new kind of spandex treated to feel like it. That would feel good , he thought, and maybe a bra stuffed with something. He made his way all the way to the back of the closet and fished around in one of the lingerie tubs. He was enjoying the feel of all the silky things squeezing between his fingers, when he noticed it.

A door knob. Right there next to the mirror in the wall. He brushed the silk scarves away on the other side and saw hinges - it was in fact a door. A locked door.

The third key, he thought. Why not?

He went back out, found the key chain in his pants pocket. Still naked he made his way to the door. Without even thinking if this could this lead somewhere bad – he opened the door.

Another closet. Exactly like this one. Dark, no wait, here was a light. It was a whole other closet. Except, it was full of sweaters...