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 !

Vonya Lee

Silly Rabbit 8

User Rating:  / 4
PoorBest 

'Gwen filled us in on everything that happened tonight. I don't think I could have hoped for more. I never knew his dad was capable. I guess we found Dick's hot button. I hope Chris has a scar he can feel. Gwen said the cut was on the back of his head so hair will cover it. I just think it would be nice if he could touch it as a reminder of his father's hate for him. I just hope we got it all on film.'

"My poor baby!" Sara coos as Chris emerges from the treatment room.

"He has six stitches and a very serious bump," said the nurse leading him out.

"Thank you for taking such good care of him for me," Sara said to the nurse, her possessive tone comforting to Chris.

Chris fell fast asleep in Sara's bed.

'I took Chris down to file charges and take out a restraining order against his father this morning. Chris didn't want to do it. He seems more hurt by the whole incident than angry. I didn't want to force him to file but I needed him to file none the less. I can't believe how lucky the whole thing was. His pinhead father just gave me the legal tools I need to keep the family away from Chris. I simply convinced Chris of the necessity to send a message to his father that what he did was not only unacceptable, it's criminal. I also convinced Chris that no harm would come to his father and that he could drop the matter at any time. By the time I was done spinning it, Chris was trying to convince me that a restraining order was the only way.

Today's plan is for Chris to be babied, pampered and cooed over by everyone in our inner circle. We'll get visits today from friends Chris never knew he had. Laura, Gwen, Dani, Destiny, Arlene, and Candice all are coming by to check in on the poor baby. He'll be ensconced in a warm cocoon of feminine embrace. My hope is the outpouring of love and concern from his new friends will be a sharp contrast from his families behavior last night.

After we get all situated properly to screw his family, we'll address his lack of kindness towards Gwen this weekend. I'm going to make him feel like a shit for not properly caring for Gwen, especially after he'd been given permission to do just that. After he's been brow beaten sufficiently, we'll test out the new video set up. Should be nothing but wall to wall cocksucking and then we'll send in Gwen. I think I should give him something to heighten his experience inside the room. I'm just not sure what.'

Laura takes Sara aside into the kitchen, while Destiny, Gwen and Dani keep Chris happily distracted.

"My friend can get crystal meth." Laura says.

"So?"

"Well when she said she had meth I started thinking. You wanted to give Chris something like speed before you locked him in the room right?"

"Speed or coke, probably coke. I can get coke."

"Well how about we crank things up a notch? We give Chrissy some meth, keep her (giggles), sorry, keep him going for a day or two? We can get good and freaky with his ass. It's about time. Don't you think?"

"I can see that. We keep him good and cranked up, locked in the room, watching nothing but gay porn, for days. I can see that. I like it, no I love it. We keep him all wired up in the room, probably in bondage, and just keep fucking with him. I want to shit on him. Do you think he's ready for that?"

"Might be a bit soon for that kind of thing. God I never knew you wanted to do that."

"I just think it's the ultimate degradation."

"That is most certainly degrading. Are you talking about shitting on him, like on his chest, or are you talking like in his mouth or something?"

"I don't know. Probably just on him, but I can see getting into it and making him do it sometime."

"That is so gross. I'm sorry, it just is. But hey, he belongs to you."

"Exactly."'

*

I feel much, much better about everything. What an ass Dick is. Dickhead. Not one single member of my family called to check on me. Not a single one. What a bunch of asshole's they all are. I heard about all the nasty stuff my family was shouting at me and my friends. They're not my family anymore. My family is right here. My family are the people that care about me. The people that want the best for me. Those people are my real family. My family are the people that came by to cheer me up.

"Chris? Why is there cold laundry sitting in the dryer?"

"I'm sorry, I forgot it was in there."

"You're getting pretty forgetful."

"I am miss, I'm sorry."

Sara pulls out the laundry and places it on the laundry table for folding. "Chris," she says, her tone ominously darkening, a change not lost on Chris. "Chris get over here , now."

What did I do? What could I have done? I run over to stand in front of her. I see anger in her eyes. Suddenly her right hand raises and strikes me hard on my left cheek.

"What's this?" she says presenting a black bra in her left hand.

Slap! Slap! Slap! Three rock hard, back and forth blows to my face. I can taste blood in my mouth.

"What is this?" her voice raising. "What the f... what is this?"

Confounded I say, "A bra miss?"

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! She slaps my face with the bra.

"No kidding, it's a bra. My bra. My favorite bra. What the hell is it doing here in the dryer?"

"I ... I ... I didn't see it in there when I did the laundry. I don't know how I could've missed that."

"I know how. You weren't paying attention, that's how. Now my favorite bra is ruined. Why? Because you weren't paying attention. You stupid son of a bitch, I could train a monkey to do laundry. How is it you can't handle it? You don't pay attention because you don't take it seriously. That's not all I've found. Come with me."

Thankfully I'm back in my old chastity, as Sara grabs hold firmly, gives me a little twist bringing me to attention, and leads me to the bathroom. I hurry to keep pace as she pulls me by my pee pee.

"What do you see in here?" she asks me.

Scanning the bathroom, seeing nothing out of order, I nervously answer "Nothing miss?"

"Nothing? Nothing?" she asks incredulously, giving me a hard pull and twist. Enough of a pull to make me wince and cry out.

"What about the toothpaste? Do we leave caps off the toothpaste?" she continues. Releasing her hold only to free her hand to rain another hard slap across my face. "Do we?"

"No miss we don't?"

"Well that isn't true is it? Here's a capless toothpaste right here before our eyes. So saying we don't can't be true, can it?"

"No miss."

Another slap across my face.

"That's for telling a lie. Now fix that."

I grab the cap and as I'm screwing it on Sara says, "Oh for the love of god I hadn't even seen this before."

"What is it miss?"

"Look into the sink and tell me what you see."

Gazing into the sink, I see a smear of toothpaste. "I see some toothpaste miss."

"Right toothpaste. In the sink. Where is toothpaste supposed to go?"

"The mouth miss?"

"That's right, the mouth. Not the sink, the mouth. I want you to get a good, close look at it. Come here, don't be shy, get up nice and close to it. Is it a gel or a paste?"

As I bent my head closer into the sink, Sara placed her hand on the back of my head, holding me there.

"Paste miss."

"How can you tell without tasting it?" with that she pushes my head down into the sink. "Lick it."

"No!" I blurt involuntarily.

"What the fuck did you just say!" her voice filling with rage. "I said lick it. Lick it until it's gone you mother fucker." exerting pressure to my head.

I know I fucked up bad. I pee myself. My tongue rolls forth and I taste the hard shell of spent toothpaste. Not too bad at all really, I think as I force the old paste loose with my tongue.

I turn my head slightly to make eye contact and see if I've done enough. Immediately Sara looks me square in the eye and spits into the sink.

"And that too." she says.

I shudder with queasiness at just the thought.

"Lick that up too. Now!"

Gathering all my strength and knowing I have no choice I do as she says. Eew! How gross. I feel like an asshole, but what can I do? I think it impressed Sara. I could see her smile as I did it.

'Oh my god! This is fantastic! I had an orgasm just watching him lick up my spit. He actually did that. I can make him lick up my spit. How cool is that. I admit when I did it I thought 'did I go too far?' I almost spit on him instead. I am so horny right now, all I want to do is beat his ass. I'm not sure there is a 'too far' anymore.

He's such a dope. I put that bra in the laundry. He never saw it. Jackass. The bra's an old one, dedicated to the cause. I unscrewed the toothpaste too, although I didn't set up the sink. That was just a fortunate surprise.

I have more than enough justification to beat his ass. I just found even more.

"Wait a minute. Why's the floor wet? Why is the floor wet here? This looks like pee. Chris did you pee on the floor?"

"I wet myself I think."

With both hands Sara reaches out and grabs my freshly pierced nipples and twists hard causing me to cry out.

"Just exactly how are you supposed to address me you stupid little fuck?"

"Miss! Miss! I'm sorry miss!" I sob, tears starting to flow. She releases my nipples.

"You think you wet yourself?"

"I wet myself miss."

"Check it. Get on your hands and knees and check it."

I get on my hands and knees as she said and put a finger to the liquid. It's still a bit warm. It's clearly pee. "It's pee miss."

"Taste it to make sure."

Reluctantly I lick the tip of my finger, "it's pee miss."

"Well then you have to clean it up."

I start to stand to get a towel when she puts her heeled foot to my back and presses down.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I was going to get something to clean this up with miss."

"We already have what we need. You."

With that she presses me hard to the floor. I accept her will and loose the struggle without a fight. With her foot on the back of my head, she presses my face hard to the floor into the circle of piss.

'What an amazing rush this is. I've never felt anything that could possibly compare to this moment, right here right now. I am all powerful over this faggot. The surge that's racing through my body is like nothing I've ever experienced in my life. Stepping on his head, pressing him under my heel, into a puddle of his own piss, piss he spilt fearing me. Me. He fears me. This man, this supposed man. This fucking pussy who had the god damned balls to leave me once? This piece of shit soaking in piss walked out on me? Now who's in charge bitch. Look where I am and look where you are. You're literally under my feet in a puddle of piss. And you're grateful to be there. I want this moment to last forever. This moment is going to last forever. You're mine until the end of time you miserable fucker and now you're going to spend the rest of your life living for me. Only me. Until I'm done with you. I hope the cameras are getting this.'

"Now Chrissie."

I knew what she meant. Mixing my tears with my piss I slowly began to lap up the rapidly cooling acrid mess. She took her foot of my head but kept it firmly against my back, her heels digging hard.

Nearing completion, Sara took her foot of my back and said "Finish up, clean yourself up, then meet me in the other bedroom."

"Yes miss."

*

I haven't seen the room since the remodeling. I knock on the door and Sara tells me to come in.

I'm shocked. A wall has been built making the room a square. The new wall has double doors that must lead to the substantial space behind it. They must have made that storage. The room looks like some bizarre bondage gym with five or six different types of racks spread around. The middle of the room has a large square metal platform held aloft by a single centered base post.

"Do you like what I've done to the room?" she asks.

"Oh yes miss. It looks great." I was scared to death.

"I'm glad you like it. You're going to be spending a lot of time in here. Especially if you keep forgetting things. What the hell is wrong with you? You can't even do a simple task like laundry. A task women have been doing flawlessly for millenniums. Women used to beat the laundry against rocks and they got it done. You can't even do it properly with the benefit of a washer and a dryer. How are we going to get you to start concentrating? Think of this room as your concentration room and my play room. Here's where we're going to work on improving your concentration. Let me show you some of the new concentration equipment.

This first one here is a kneeler. You were Catholic once, try it out."

I kneel on the pad.

"Lean forward, on the pad."

I lean forward and once I do it I realize my vulnerability. Once I'm in position Sara pulls my hands into side mounted cuffs.

"Your hands go here like this," she says locking my hands to the side of this box.

Moving around behind me she pulls my feet wide and snaps me down at the ankle. I'm locked down. Sara walks to the double doors, opens one and steps inside. A light goes on and then a light goes off. Sara walks from the room and closes the door behind her. She has a wide wooden paddle in her hands.

"You didn't think I forgot your earlier insolence did you? Hardly. You're going to be punished Chris. You're going to have to pay for ruining my bra, and for leaving my bathroom a mess. When did I give you permission to draw on eyebrows? Never, that's when. And did you really have the audacity to say 'no' to me? We're going to make sure you don't make the same mistake twice. You are never going to answer me with a 'no' ever again. We'll keep with the Catholic theme. Maybe that's what will help you concentrate. You're going to visit a different bondage station like you're visiting a different station of the cross. You can pay penance tonight for each of your sins."

Whack! She brings the paddle down hard on my ass. I scream out in pain and surprise. The stool keeps me hard in place. Whack! I cry out in pain once again.

'Well if you can't even take it like a man. Ha! Listen to me expecting you to be able to take it like a man, like a real man. I'm sorry honey that's wrong of me. I need to remember you're not a man. You're a sissy. My sissy. Isn't that right honey." Whack!

A small cry escapes my mouth. "Yes miss."

"Yes miss what?"

"I'm you're sissy miss."

Whack! Just as hard as the first one.

"I know my little sissy, you need a binky. That's what you need a binky. Let me get my little sissy his binky."

Back to the closet. She hides something behind her back and approaches me from behind. She swings her legs over my back and sits down atop me. She reaches down in front of me and pushes a short, fat, cock gag into my mouth and buckles it tight behind my head.

"There that's so much better isn't it sissy. Now you can learn to never ever say a word like 'no' to me ever again and you can cry your little sissy eyes out without being too annoying."

She began beating me hard. Ten, twenty hard, screaming paddle strikes have me screaming hard into my cock gag. Then she takes it up even another notch. She starts paddling my exposed feet bottoms. I'm screaming as hard as I've ever screamed in my life and Sara's getting more and more turned on. She's laughing as I'm screaming. The sweat is pouring out of me.

Stopping the beating, Sara removes the gag from my mouth and asks me the now familiar question after a beating, "what do you say?"

"Thank you miss and I'm sorry. Very sorry miss."

"What are you sorry for?"

"I'm sorry for saying 'no' miss. I was wrong to say that to you. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"Very well then." She brings the paddle to my face. I understand her intention. I lean forward and kiss the paddle.

She heads into the strange closet and returns without the paddle.

"I'll be back in a few minutes. You can kneel there and pray for my forgiveness."

I stay locked in position for what must have been an hour before Sara returned.

"Are you finished praying sweetheart? Do you think you're prayers have been answered?"

"N ... I'm ... I'm not sure miss." I almost said no.

She began unlocking my ankles, "well why don't you stand up and come see the next station of the cross."

Standing up stiff and sore I say, "yes miss," and waddle over.

"You look stiff. Are you a little stiff? This will help you stretch out. This is a vault horse. Lean your ass back here. Good. Now move your legs apart. More."

She puts a cuff on one ankle, buckles it, then the other.

"Give me your hands."

I put my hands forward. She grasps one, places a cuff on it. I notice the cuff is connected to a metal cable. She does the same to my other wrist and it too has the cable.

"Lift your hands over your head and lean back into the horse, way back."

I do as she says and as I do Sara begins stepping on a foot pedal. As she does I hear the movement of a gear. Slowly the slack in the cable begins to disappear. She keeps pumping the pedal and the tension increases. My arms are being pulled back and down. My back arches across the horse. Sara keeps pumping the pedal and I'm forced to shimmy back on the horse, lifting my feet off the ground. I can feel resistance on my ankles and I realize they too are held with cables. I'm pulled taut across the horse, my back fully arched.

"Doesn't that feel good? Doesn't that stretch the back nicely?" Sara says as she begins playing with my nipple rings.

"Yes miss," I struggle to say.

Sara begins flicking at my nipple rings. She starts pulling the rings up, stretching my nipples with them, then she lets them go, snapping back. Agony. She starts twisting my nipple rings one way, then the other. I'm biting my lip to keep from crying out.

"Do you like when I play with your nipple rings honey?"

"Oh yes miss I do." I offer as cheerily a lie as possible.

"Me too." she says as she continues twisting and pulling my nipples.

After a whimper escapes my mouth Sara says "I'm sorry honey. Do you need another binky?"

I'm not sure how I should answer. I give the answer I hope is right, "Please miss."

"Sure sweetie. You wait right here," she says sarcastically.

Out of sight she reappears peering over me. She pushes a ball gag into my mouth and secures it tightly.

"You have to learn to concentrate Chrissie. We can't be leaving my bathroom a mess just because you're to lazy to concentrate. You' re going to have to learn to do better."

The first whip strike crashes across my stretched rib cage. Nothing stings like a whip. For too long she whips me from my breasts down across my tight thighs. All I can do is cry and wail into my ball gag and endure.

'The new playroom is perfect. With him stretched backwards I can really see his breast growth. He has titties and they show. It feels wonderful whipping his new titties. Is there anything better than beating a man? I love seeing the whip marks emerge seconds after a strike. I can watch each blow come to life. The color deepens in seconds. His flesh is a canvas for me to carve designs in with my whip. I'm making patterns across his thighs. Nice stripes of pain for my little sissy toy.'

Taking off my ball gag, Sara asks me, "are you going to be more respectful of my bathroom?"

"Yes miss. Absolute and complete respect miss. I'll do much, much better miss. I promise miss." So glad to move my jaw.

"Then what do you say?"

"Thank you miss for helping me with my concentration. I promise to be much more careful."

"Good sissy, good."

She does something with her foot and the pedal and just like that my arms slacken.

"Lean forward and put your palms on the floor in front of you."

I do as I'm told. Sara reaches under me and undoes my chastity.

"Stay exactly like that."

"Yes miss."

I can't see but I assume she's gone into the storage room again. She comes back and stands behind me. Reaching between my legs she takes a firm hold of my pee pee and pulls it firmly back between my legs. I can feel something. She presses my pee pee between two something's and I'm pinched shut. Whatever this is, it extends horizontally across the back of my thighs.

"You must be thirsty. Are you thirsty? I'm parched. Why don't we take a little break and you go to the kitchen and make us something to drink. Make me a sea breeze." She's unfastening my ankles as she's telling me this. "You can stand up now."

"Yes miss, thank you miss." Except I can't. I can, barely. I can't stay upright though. Hurts too much. This thing stretches my tiny pee pee too much when I try to straighten up. I need to keep bent.

"What's the matter honey? You seem to be having trouble."

"I can't stand up miss. This thing pulls too much."

"Oh that? That's what we call a 'hobbler'. Pretty cool isn't it? Makes you really think about what you're doing. Now how about those drinks?"

I try to move and I can't. Every little bit of motion hurts.

"Go on honey. I'm waiting."

I try to move a little bit at a time. I get down on my knees and then my hands and knees. Sadly and I'm sure by design, crawling on my hands and knees is about the only way I can move.

Crawling down the hallway Sara walks right past me and says without pausing, "a glass of 'Crystal Light' for you."

I struggled up to my feet in the kitchen and was taking things out of the kitchen when Sara came and stood in the doorway.

"Not those glasses, ..." stopping me at the cabinet, "... those." pointing to the red wine glasses on the top shelf.

I try and try to straighten myself upright to reach the chosen glasses. I just can't do it. I need something I can climb up on. A chair. I grab a kitchen chair and pull it into place.

As soon as I start to climb onto the chair Sara says to me. "What do you think you're doing with that?"

"I was going to use it to help me reach the glasses miss."

"You're not going to be climbing all over the furniture to do your chores. Find another way and quick. I'm getting very thirsty."

I slide the chair back to the table and try again. I'm getting so emotional that I'm starting to tear up. I can't do it. I can't reach the glasses. I'm going to fail and she's going to beat me some more because of it. I feel overwhelmed.

"Sissy Chrissie what's the matter baby? Why are you crying?"

"I ... I can't do this. I can't reach the glasses." I burst into tears. "You're going to be mad at me because I can't reach the glasses." I start hyperventilating. "I don't want to disappoint you and that's all I do!" Heaving, breathless sobbing. "I'm not doing good. I'm failing you! I'm sorry honey." Uncontrollable sobbing.

"Chrissie? Chrissie look at me. Look at me Chrissie." Sara commands.

She takes my chin in her hands and lifts my head making me face her.

"You Chrissie, are a sissy. Don't look down, look at me. You are a sissy, but that isn't a bad thing as long as you accept it. The world runs on all kinds of different people. Sissy isn't just a word, it's an honest to goodness type of person. You, Chrissie are that kind of person. You were born to be a sissy. That isn't a good thing or a bad thing, it's simply who you are. The only bad thing is being in denial about who you really are. We all follow a destiny Chrissie and sissy is yours. Just keep this in mind my sweet, if you weren't a sissy you wouldn't be here with me right now. Do you think I'd want anything to do with the old Chris? Old Chris was an asshole. You're not an asshole honey, you're a sissy. Destiny Chrissie, destiny. Don't fight destiny, follow it. Tell me, are you my little sissy boy?"

Feeling much better and with my sobbing under control I respond, "Yes miss, I am your little sissy boy."

"Good. I want you to be my little sissy. That's the only way we can be together you understand. You have to be my sissy to be with me. There is no other way. So are you my sissy?"

"Yes miss I am a sissy." I am a sissy. Thank God, otherwise I wouldn't be with Sara.

"Whose sissy are you?"

"I'm your sissy miss. Miss Sara's sissy."

"Yes you are Chrissie. You're my sissy boy. Remember that. You're a sissy, you're not a man. You're allowed to cry. Crying is what sissies do. You're just being yourself when you let go and cry. Nobody expects you to pretend to be some big, macho man. You're not John Wayne sweetie. No, far from it, thank God. If you were, I wouldn't have anything to do with you. Nothing. No phony machismo. I hate it. You don't want to have to keep pretending to be something you're not do you? Of course not. You don't want to have to keep pretending to be some macho dickhead, do you? Of course not. You're so much better than that. You can stop pretending Chrissie, I'm more than strong enough for both of us. Sissies don't have to pretend honey. You're free from having to pretend to be a macho man. Free. You should be proud of who you are. You're not a man Chrissie and I wouldn't expect you to behave like one. You never really were a man in the first place. You were living a lie sweetie. All I expect from you is to behave like the sissy you are. You're very lucky you know. More lucky than you realize. You being a true sissy allows you the freedom to express yourself. Men have to hide their emotions, you don't have to anymore. Isn't that fantastic? See Chrissie being a sissy lets you get in touch with your emotions just like women do. Don't you see what an advantage that is over being just another cold, sad, emotionally detached man. Nasty. No Chrissie you should consider yourself fortunate that you're my sissy. Now hurry up and shimmy your ass onto that counter and get me my drink."

"Yes miss." I feel like a million dollars.

'Look at him with that hobbler on. This has got to be one of the funniest things I've ever watched. He's twisted his ass onto the counter and now he's struggling to get onto his knees so he can reach the glasses. He doesn't even think to complain, he just goes about his business regardless of what I chose to burden him with. This just keeps getting better and better. He doesn't even care that I'm making him wear the thing. He just accepts it to be. My mind just races with ideas of what to do with him. I've come up with a laundry punishment for him that I think is going to be a lot of fun, for me.'

"Finish your drink and then meet me in the playroom."

"Yes miss."

Crawling through the doorway Sara greets me with "Finally. Well Chrissie you need to be taught another lesson for ruining my bra. You ruined my favorite bra out of simple neglect. Maybe you get bored too easily. Maybe having the use of all the modern equipment makes you mentally lazy. I think I've come up with a way to make you more appreciative of what it takes to do laundry properly."

Snapping a leather collar around my neck and cuffs to my wrists as she speaks. She continues. "I started thinking about how women used to do laundry by hand and thought maybe that's what you need. A little hands on experience. I think you still need a little concentration booster," securing a leather half mask around my face I recognize as the toilet brush gag.

Without a word from Sara, or a hint of resistance from me, she brings my wrists up to my collar and secures one cuff, then the other to the collar with short lengths of chain. My hands are secured to the collar with about six inches of slack. Sara places her left hand on top of my head and screws a brush into the front of the gag with her free hand. The brush extends from my mouth to between my leashed hands. Finished she heads to the bedroom and returns with a laundry bag.

"There's lingerie in this bag. You're going to handwash each and every piece in this bag. You're going to use the brush to scrub. I better not find any stains when I check later. Go."

Doubled over, I move towards Sara and take the laundry bag from her. Sinking to the ground, I get on all fours and start crawling towards the laundry room. Crawling is made much harder without the use of my arms. I have to inch along the floor palms down, my face inches from the ground. I have to turn my head to one side or the other to accommodate the brush attachment. With my hands to the ground like this, my face is too close to the ground for the brush.

I reach the bathroom with the laundry bag in tow. I get myself to my feet and find the 'Woolite'. Stooping over to reach the faucet, I turn on the water. I pour out a capful of Woolite inches from my face and empty the cap into the running water. When the sink is filled I turn off the water and open the laundry bag. I pull out a pair of soiled, purple panties. The panel has a fresh stain on it. I hunch over to reach the sink and drop the panties into the warm, soapy water. I empty the laundry bag to the floor. I see a few pairs of panties, a couple bras, some stockings and pantyhose and a camisole or two. Lowering myself again, I gather up three pair of panties and place them in the water. I pull from the water the original pair. I want to try and scrub the panel folded over against itself but my hands don't quite reach. I'll have to use the brush.

Over the next two hours or so, I hand wash everything in the bag. I do the undies and the camisoles by holding them against the brush and rubbing them back and forth. I find the bras are done easier by holding the bra steady in my hands and scrubbing them with the brush, moving my head back and forth. Physically I can do the bra method for a short while only.

Finally done, I assume the position and start crawling back to Sara. I find her getting dressed in th bedroom. I struggle to find a comfortable position when Sara turns to look at me. God she is beautiful.

"You look so cute like that. So cute. Did you finish the laundry?"

I nod yes.

"Would you like to speak honey?"

More enthusiastic nodding from me. Sara walks over to me and undoes the mask. She motions for me to stand.

"I'm done with the laundry miss." I say as I struggle to my feet.

"Did you have fun?"

"Oh yes miss, lots of fun. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I didn't have you do that just for fun you know. Did you learn anything?"

"Oh yes miss, I learned a lot."

"Like what?"

"I learned how important it is to concentrate. I learned how careless I was and how careful I need to be. I learned how hard laundry really is. I learned how I shouldn't take the washer and dryer for granted. I learned ..."

"Alright, alright. That's enough. As long as you learned something. Bend over and touch your toes."

Sweet release! Sara removes this damn hobbler. I let go a huge sigh of relief. My little cockette retreats back deep inside me. Looking down, all I have to show is a little nub head and a small ball sack. I feel a little proud looking at my tiny package. I wonder, is there's a lesser endowed sissy than me? I doubt it. The thought is a boast not a complaint. Wow. Is this sissy pride? All of a sudden I want to be the biggest and best sissy the world has ever seen.