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 !


The Landlady's Niece - One Year Later

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The eyelashes that periodically fluttered in front of his eyes were as dark and thick as prison bars, that seem to crash together in front of him, an apt reminder of just how snug a prison he had sentenced himself to exactly one year ago. The bars were partially obscured by the dark ring that framed his mouth -- the extra-large pink plastic guard of his ìbinky num-numsî which seemed to always confound his mouth with its unexpectedly substantial girth and length. It was just the right length to lightly tickle his gag-reflex without actually triggering it, resulting in an uncontrollable spasm of swallows and sucks. The ring loomed from his smacking ultraglossy pink lips like the pink plastic rim of a baketball hoop. Not too far beyond that was the tossing tree tops of tight platinum blond curls, bouncing and swaying like a forest that he could never escape to. But of course this entire tableau appeared to be in a long tunnel with a bright light at the end, a pink traslucent shaft with a large froth of lace hanging like bunting from the far end with tendrils of platinum blond bouncing curls trying to escape, and the top edges of the comically large bow that tied it so snugly and itchily under this chin (removing yet another swath of his vision obscured at a 45 degree angle on the lower left side)-- the stiff extra-long brim and chin-ties of his ìPlay-Clothes Bonnetî so-called to distinguish it from its even more extravagant and festooned sisters hanging so prettily on their pegs in the Nursery. Only when he was directed to stare straight ahead at himself in the mirror, was he able to see whole of his outfit, from the outrageous plummage of the gigantic shiny pink bonnet to the gleaming mirror bright pink patent leather circular toes of his rhinestone studded and pink satin- bowed Mary Janes. That regal presence would then click in on those chic heels, and those perfumed lips would press the satin rosettes on the side of his bonnet even more firmly against his hot blushing ears would hear that all-too familar voice dripping in the most condescending baby-talk: Is Pwin-teth Baby's Pwetty Skirts So Wide now that She needs A Bigger Mirror to pwance and pose?!!!!! Oh my, We MUST get the Handymen in here right away! We know how much our Pageant Baby LOVES to pwactice pwactice pwactice!!!! Her laugh was lilting as She blew a wet kiss and stood back to admire Her latest handiwork.

I stared at myself in the large full length mirror that dominated one wall of the Nursery. There was no need to think anymore -- shoes tightly together, perfectly aligned, the outermost hem of my absurdly short dress held daintily between the thumb and finger pocket of the lacey pink quilted satin mittens I was in. This pair allowed me to grip, unlike some of the other handwear I wore. I had to stare unmovingly at myself, my lips su-king rythmically, until Auntie Dearwest or Governess instructed otherwise. As I gazed in horror at my outfit, I thought back to that fateful day one year ago, and once again heard Auntie Dearwest's voice fill every crevice of my head.

ìTell Auntie that you want to wear pwetty dainty frilly dresses every day cupcake, hmmmmmmmm?


I could still feel that fateful ìyesî escape my lips as I spasmed creamies into my diaper. As I stared at my latest humiliating costume, I could only think in disbelief how embarassed I had been by those first dresses. I would give anything to be back in something that simple. The layers that encased me now could only remind me how badly I had underestimated the inestimable Mrs. Fairchild.

I had even made the mistake of having a full blow temper tantrum about it at a point that i was too stupid to realize was very early on in the process. Aunty Dearwest had buckled me into my babyreins for the first time and was explaining to me how i would have to prance daintily in front of Her so the bells would ìjingle prettilyî and the blood was throbbing so hotly in my ears, that i literally stamped my foot and started squealing ìWhy should I!!!!!!! It's not like you can make my dresses any more babyish or sissyish!!!!!!!!!! Aunty never became the slightest bit perturbed, as She held the pink leather leash in Her gloved hand, and watched with amusement. Her lips broadened into a wide smile. ìHmmmmmm is that so pwincess pwettykins? We shall just have to see about that, won't we?î What i didn't know was that Aunty was filming me on that ocassion, and i'd seen that clip countless times since --- almost every time Aunty Dearwest unveiled my newest embarassing confection. There i was stamping and screeching like the most clueless 2 year old in the world, and then Aunty's silky voice would come from off screen, ìHmmmmmm is that so pwincess pwettykins? We shall just have to see about that, won't we?î When Aunty made special DVDs for him to watch, She sometimes inserted the clip between shows, like a commercial, often more than once. It never seemed to cease amusing Her.

He could remember sitting on the floor next to the couch inches from Aunty's gleaming black patent leather riding boots, in which he could see a fun-house distorted reflection of himself. He was sitting with his legs splayed straight out, his skirts and petticoats bunched up high in a ridiculous mountain that pressed up against him almost obscuring his vision. He clutched a large pink teddy bear in one arm and sucked his binky num-nums. Aunty's seamstress was sitting in the armchair nearby taking notes.

ìI want you to push the envelope. I want the last dress you made to seem positively simple, plain and boyish compared to what you create now. I want you to keep certain words in mind when you design it -- Extreme. Outrageous. Exaggerated. Fussy. The more flouncy, frilly, and beribboned the better. Make it bizarre, cartoonish, larger than life. But always as sissyish and babyish as possible. Let me show you something darling,î Here she picked up the remote and pushed play, and the TV sprang to life and my temper tantrum voice filled the air, issuing my defiant ultimatum in my whiny overwrought voice. My face flushed to its deepest shade of red as I hugged the teddy tighter and sucked more vigorously, not daring to look up. But Aunty Dearwest's perfectly manicured forefinger came down and pressed underneath my chin, lifting my face so my moist fluttering eyes had to lock on her triumphant face. She continued to speak to the seamstress but kept her eyes locked on mine.

ìSee darling, little pwincess pwettykins doesn't think you can make her dresses and bonnets and petticoats and anklets and pantaloons any more sissy or babyish. But I think you can. What do you think?î

I could hear Mrs. Perkins laughing long and loud.

ìOh I think I may be able to accomodate you Mrs. Fairchild. I've been working on some new designs I think you are going to find very interesting!î

They both laughed, and my diaper imprisoned stiffy began to jerk and shoot creamies uncontrollably, as I shook spasmadically. Aunty Dearwest pinched my tear-stained cheek as she and the seamstress laughed and laughed.