So, as I may have alluded to previously, I recently got to do some amazingly fun, super awesome shopping for my darling sissy slut.
And I picked out the loveliest of lacy pink bedsets, and eagerly awaited the delivery.
The original plan was to not tell him when it got in, and go to his house while he was at work, set it all up on his bed, then leave so he’d never know I was there. He’d come home, just like any other day, and walk into his room to see it there waiting for him.
He’d know it was coming, of course. I mean, I’ve only been talking about it for weeks. Of course he knew it was coming.
But he didn’t know when. So it would be a fantastic mindfuck. Not only would there be the shock of the bed itself, but also everything it represents. It’s the first step in sissifying his entire house, I’ll have him gangbanged on it, when he sucks his friend’s cock, it’ll be on it, every night it’ll be the last thought he has, and every morning it’ll be the first.
That was the plan. And it was a good plan. I liked the plan.
However, there’s something about me that my subs know, but my readers likely don’t.
I am a total child when I’m excited about something.
In a good way, mind you.
“Giddy” is definitely an accurate descriptor. And, for as much as I work to cultivate my super-intimidating-totally-terrifying-evil-bitch persona, “giggly” is just as accurate. I have literally been known to squeal like a little girl at a Justin Bieber concert (is he still a thing? Or is that reference obsolete? Nevermind, I don’t care).
And this applies to every part of my life. For example, I think there’s been once that I’ve managed to wait until the appropriate gift giving occasion to give something I was excited to give. And I realized early I had to give Kazander the authority to keep me from giving the spawn her Christmas/birthday/whatever presents early.
Waiting for a particular date or something is easier, because there’s nothing I can do. I’m excited to go to Cancun this fall, but it’s easy to wait because I can’t just up and go earlier.
Dates are easy. Things are hard. Secrets are hard.
Seriously, I’m like a kid on Christmas morning. Total child.
And I’ve been beyond freaking excited about the bed. I was checking the tracking info like every twenty minutes.
When it finally got in, I tore into it immediately, saw how unbelievably pretty it was in person, and my excitement went through the roof.
Christmas morning and Justin Bieber concert all rolled into one.
And I couldn’t wait. I told Sounder right then that it had gotten in.
And man, it is pink. My sister in law saw it as I put it in the washing machine and said, “What is that? That is really, really pink.”
Which, naturally, I had to relay to Sounder.
I went to his house with the bedset in the original bag it came in (but I’d taken the picture and label off. I didn’t want him seeing what it looked like). Even though I couldn’t keep the surprise, I still wasn’t going to let him see it until it was all set up and beautiful.
I took it upstairs, told him to stay downstairs, and stripped his bed. And began the thoroughly enjoyable process of transforming his bed from something any masculine man would feel comfortable sleeping in to something indescribably pink, frilly, lacy, and delightfully feminine.
And I’m usually not a perfectionist, but I certainly was that night. I wanted every pillow perfectly placed, every piece of lace trim meticulously positioned, every detail just so.
So that when he walked in, and saw it for the first time, the image would be forever seared into his mind.
I think I achieved that goal. Truly, it was spectacular. I was beaming when I finally told him he could come up, and I watched him walk (much more slowly than he usually walks) into the bedroom.
He looked at it, sitting there in all its pink glory, then took a deep breath and said, “Yeah, that’s worse than I expected.”
I think I squealed out loud. I know I definitely did in my head.
And he, being the sweet, obedient bitch that he is, picked out a new lingerie outfit to commemorate his new bed. Something pink and frilly and equally humiliating to match the bed.
So he put it on, and goddamn, it was so fucking hot. It was definitely the most feminine, delicate, girly thing I’ve seen him in.
And he picked it out all by himself.
Or, perhaps more accurately, herself.
It was time to christen the new sissy bed. I put him on all fours in the center of the bed, his back arched and his boy pussy out and ready. It was an incredible view.
I didn’t waste any time, and slid a big cock in him. His soft moans were so cute as I fucked him. And then he came with my cock in his ass and his face pressed down in the pink sheets.
It wasn’t my strapon, though. I didn’t touch him at all as I fucked him. The only sensations he felt were the the pink bedset under him, the soft lingerie against his skin, and the cock inside him.
And he came, hard and often, like a horny little slut.
Then, when his ass was raw and throbbing, I fingered him to a couple more, grinning as he squirmed and writhed on the bed.
It was every bit as hot and humiliating as I wanted it to be. And now he has a gorgeous sissy bed. And I can’t wait to take the next step in sissifying his entire house.