Past the point of no return

You have come here
In pursuit of your deepest urge
In pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent…
Silent…

I have brought you
That our passions may fuse and merge
In your mind you’ve already succumbed to me
Dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me
Now you are here with me, no second thoughts
You’ve decided…
Decided…

Past the point of no return
No backward glances
The games we’ve played till now are at an end
Past all thought of if or when
No use resisting
Abandon thought and let the dream descend
What raging fire shall flood the soul?
What rich desire unlocks its door?
What sweet seduction lies before us
Past the point of no return
The final threshold?
What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn
Beyond the point of no return?

M’kay, so my geek was showing there for a second.  But there’s not a whole hell of a lot out there more fitting right now.  Andrew Lloyd Webber knows his shit.

Tonight was fun.  Like, seriously fun.  Like, a million different kinds of fun.

Like, whoa.

So there’s this adorable sissy I own.  And earlier this week, I’d decided that he was going to take a big step forward today.

He was going to suck cock.  No big deal, there.  He’s done it before.  But this time, he was going to finish, and swallow.

Not a huge difference, right?

Heh, heh…

Poor Sounder.  It was a rough week for him.  Yesterday and today were the worst, of course.  I really turned up the fear factor, and gave him quite a bit to think about.

Oh!  And on… Thursday, I think?  While he was at work, he asked, “Did you ship something to me?”

“No, why?”

“I got a delivery notification.  I’m not expecting anything.”

Well, cool.  I didn’t think anything else of it, until later that night, when I asked what had been delivered.

His response was, “Yeah, God or whoever’s in charge definitely likes you more than me.”

I laughed.  “Why do you say that?  What was in the box?”

“Lingerie I ordered 6 months ago, and it never showed up.”

Ooooh, really?

I was intrigued.  Particularly when he was hopeful that it wouldn’t fit.

But, because the entire Universe works tirelessly to accommodate me, I received a text a few minutes later, after he’d tried it on.

“Of course it fits.”

“Is it pretty?”

He didn’t answer with words, but his answer was more than enough.

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Holy shit.

Like, ho-ly shit.

Um, yeah, it’s fucking pretty.

So yay!  He had amazing new lingerie to wear while he swallows cum.  And damn, that is some fucking hot lingerie.

I was even more excited.  I couldn’t wait for Sunday to get here.

So today, Kazander and I pulled up to Sounder’s house and knocked on the door.  He let us in, and I think my whole face lit up when I saw him, dressed up, his hair and makeup done, wearing one of my very favorite pairs of his panties, a pair with no back.

Actually, there’s a picture of him wearing that pair on his blog, along with some other incredibly sexy pictures.  And of course, I have it right here.

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I love these panties on him.  So pretty.

Dude, he was just so damn hot.  I didn’t wait, I barely dropped my purse and my bag on the floor before putting my hands on him, pushing him against the door and groping him.

I turned to Kazander.  “I love these panties on her.  They make her ass look so perky, don’t they?”

“Yeah, they do.  She’s fucking hot.”

And I just have to go on a quick tangent.  Because, while Kazander and I aren’t really “there” sexually with each other, he has become a really kind of amazing partner when it comes to Topping others.

I mean, he’s inexperienced as fuck, of course.  He struggles to find that balance between pushing limits and crossing lines.  As we were talking about how we wanted the night to go, I had to hold him back more than once, and remind him that if we break our toy, we won’t be able to play with her anymore.

But it’s awesome, it really is.  It’s so much better to have to hold someone back than it would be to try and encourage someone who just isn’t into it.

So I was excited, and turned on by how Dominant Kazander was through the whole thing, and how easily he fell into that role.  The two of us, sharing and using Sounder together, is pretty damn amazing, actually.

And Sounder really is such a fun toy to play with.  He was so nervous.  I’d been fucking with his head for days, and I wasn’t gentle.

I wasn’t gentle today, either.  I had him bend over the arm of the couch, his ass exposed and waiting.  Of course we were going to put things in it.

But I was nice, I went with something small (instead of the largest toy I have, which Kazander had wanted to use).  Kazander stood next to me as I eased the vibe into Sounder.

And once it was in, I asked Kazander if we wanted to do the honors.  He said, “Of course,” and took the vibe, fucking Sounder with it.

I stepped to Sounder’s side, putting one hand on the back of his neck and the other on the small of his back, really driving home the fact that it wasn’t my hand fucking him.

Poor Sounder, he was so tense, trying so hard not to enjoy Kazander fucking him.  And for a few minutes, he succeeded.  But then, Kazander and I could hear his soft, occasional moans.

It was so much fun, it was so hot watching Kazander fucking him with the vibe, and watching Sounder enjoy it.

Kazander wanted to fuck him with more than the vibe, though.  He tried pretty hard to convince me to let him fuck Sounder right then and there.  And for half a second, I considered it.

But no, that’s the next step.  I wanted Sounder to taste cum for the first time.  I wanted him to actively make Kazander cum, feel him shoot his load, and consciously swallow it.

Being fucked will, in many ways, be harder for him to handle than sucking cock, but there’s a level of passivity there.  All he’ll have to do is bend over and stay still.  Hell, I could tie him down, even, and take away his choice in the matter.

The end result would still be the same, no matter which hole we used.  Sounder would have a man shoot his load into him.  He’d officially be my sissy cumdumpster.

But with a blowjob, he has to be the one to do it.  He has to make himself my sissy cumdumpster.  He has to make the conscious decision to obey me, to do this thing he really doesn’t want to do, to make me happy.

Sure I could tie him down and let men use him.  And I will.

But not the first time.  Not tonight.  Tonight was going to be all him.

We went upstairs, and I happily showed Kazander the beautiful, pink, lacy sissy bed that Sounder sleeps in.  And then Kazander sat down on that bed, took off his pants, and waited expectantly while I told Sounder to get on his knees.

I pushed Sounder forward, holding Kazander’s half-hard cock and sliding it into Sounder’s warm, wet mouth.  I didn’t even have to push hard, or tell Sounder to open his mouth, like I have in the past.  Sucking cock is starting to come easier to him, I think.

He’s a very good cocksucker.  Kazander didn’t last long.  He came, his cock throbbing as he shot his load into Sounder’s mouth.

And Sounder, the obedient, darling slut, didn’t spill a drop.  I watched him, Kazander’s cock still in his mouth, forcing himself to swallow.  The look on his face was just absolutely precious.

Afterward, Kazander put on his clothes and went out for a cigarette, while I stayed there with Sounder, him on all fours on the floor.

“You’re a cumdumpster now,” I told him, my hand between his legs, rubbing his p-spot.  “And you’re going to cum with the taste of his cum still in your mouth.”

He didn’t take long, either.  I let him up, told him he could change, and that I’d meet him downstairs.  Kazander was ready to leave (we’d taken separate cars because he wanted to get home quickly).

But before he left, I asked him what he thought of Sounder’s mouth.

“It was great.  She’s a talented cocksucker.”

And it was funny.  I said, “You know what we should’ve done?  I should’ve had you cum yesterday.  Or this morning.  So you’d last longer.”

He nodded.  “I was thinking the same thing,” he agreed.  “Oh well, now we know for next time.”

I grinned.  “Thinking about next time already?”

He shrugged.  “I’m never going to turn down a blowjob from a hot slut.”

He left, and Sounder came downstairs, and he and I settled on the couch to watch a movie.  I sat there, my arm around him and my hand around his neck, and he started pushing forward against my hand, wanting me to choke him harder.

At one point, he even took my hand, pressing it harder against his throat.

And for the record, it really doesn’t take much to make me go from normal to turned-the-fuck-on.  Like, not much at all.  Sometimes, all it takes is a hand on mine, and an unspoken request to be handled more roughly.

My hand went between his legs, rubbing his p-spot again.  He spread his legs, leaning back against me, squirming and moaning as I rubbed him to an orgasm.  And then another.  I didn’t stop, I didn’t give him time to rest, I just kept going.

With my other hand, I fondled his breasts, but when I finally pinched his nipple, and heard him gasp, “Yes, please yes,” I intensified everything.  Combining the pleasure and pain, it didn’t take long for him to cum again, pushing hard against me and crying out, still writhing uncontrollably.

I’d never seen him that turned on before.  The way he moved was different, his voice was different, his mannerisms were different.  And it made him bolder.  At one point, he slid off the couch, kneeling at my feet.

“May I?” he asked.

“Of course.”

He bent down, kissing my feet while I ran my fingers up and down his back.  But, while I certainly enjoyed that, I wasn’t done making him cum, and pulled him back up on the couch with me.

I actually lost track of how many times he came.  It was definitely more than five, and it might have been more than ten.  And holy hell, they were intense.  It was so damn hot to watch. His back arched, practically screaming, clinging to me, his legs thrashing as the sensations overwhelmed him.

And I still wasn’t done.  I got off the couch, lying him down flat as I sat beside him, still rubbing his p-spot with one hand, the other around his neck, and now I could choke him even harder.

He came again, one last time, arching his back so high, I was worried he might hurt himself.  But he didn’t, he lied limp on the couch, panting and gasping, still squirming just a little.

“Are you alright?” I asked, grinning.

“I don’t know… I can’t handle it.”

I laughed.  “That’s a good thing.”

I got up to wash my hands.  After a moment, he managed to pull himself to his feet.  I walked up to him, and he wrapped his arms around me.

“That… That was… Just mind-blowing,” he murmured.  “Earth-shattering.”

“I can see that.  Was it enough to make up for earlier?”

“That part actually wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.”

“Well good, see?  You’re a true born sissy.  It all just comes naturally to you.”

Any other time, he, being that perfect mix of sweet and sarcastic, would’ve had a sarcastic answer to that.  But this time, he barely managed a half-muttered “uh, huh,” before pulling me close again and resting his head on my shoulder.

But he seemed really unsteady on his feet.  “Come on, let’s sit back down.”

We sat back down, I pulled him close and put my arm around him, and he rested his head on my shoulder.  And really, in less than two minutes, I realized he’d fallen asleep.  The poor thing, so worn out, so overwhelmed.

I sat back, resting my head against his, letting him rest while I watched the end of the movie.  Then, I woke him up, and he walked me out.

I think he’ll sleep well tonight.

And when he wakes up in the morning, in his sissy bed, he’ll remember exactly what it felt like to kneel at the edge of it, obediently swallowing cum.  And he’ll know that there’s no coming back from that.  For the rest of his life, he will never not be a sissy cum dumpster.

Past the point of no return
No going back now
Our passion play has now at last begun
Past all thought of right or wrong
One final question
How long should we two wait before we’re one?
When will the blood begin to race
The sleeping bud bursts into bloom?
When will the flames at last consume us?

Past the point of no return
The final threshold
The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn
We’ve passed the point of no return

Health update, and yay, new pills!

So I saw the oncologist last week, and he ordered like a million blood tests.  One of the tests has already been analyzed and I saw the results.  And there’s good news and bad news.

The bad news is that the numbers make leukemia even more likely.  Like, unless I have some weird, rare, undocumented condition, that’s what it is.  But the good news is that the numbers point to the chronic types, not the acute types. Which is good, because the most common type of leukemia in adults is Acute Myeloid Leukemia.

Which is basically a death sentence.  My age and the fact that I’m otherwise healthy help my odds, but even when people respond well to chemo, reoccurence is more likely than not, and one doctor said that he sees an average of 3 or 4 years between when people are diagnosed and when they pass away.

So that was a a definite worry.  But that’s something you would’ve seen in a complete blood count.  My numbers are high, but they’re not that high.

It’s the difference between, “well that’s concerning,” and, “bitch, you dead.”

Both the chronic types are easier to treat, slower to spread, and have higher survivability.  I can absolutely deal with that.

But now I have to wait another 2 1/2 weeks for the next step.  And I don’t know which tests he ordered, or whether he’ll want to do more blood work, or if we can just skip to the bone marrow biopsy.

Which is what I would prefer, actually.  He said that, because the test is so brutal, he doesn’t like ordering it unless he absolutely has to, and all he had was my basic blood work results, so it’s understandable that he’d want the more detailed test results before going that route.

I’m just hoping he ordered them all, and got them all done at once.  I mean, I have literally never had anyone take that many vials of blood at one time before, so it’s likely he ordered them all, but I won’t know until the results are analyzed and posted.

It’s always the waiting that sucks the most.

But I do have some fun things to keep my mind off of it.  Like the new birth control pills I got for Sounder.

He hadn’t been taking them for awhile.  An interesting side effect we noticed is that he completely lost his ability to jerk off, or cum like a man at all.  The only way he can cum now is through prostate stimulation.

Like being fucked like a bitch.

Which I find amazingly awesome, by the way.

But I was curious to see if it was reversible.  So after his 2-month supply ran out, I wasn’t in a rush to get it refilled.  I wanted to see if Tammi Lynn would regain function.

But it’s been months and months, and nope, he still can’t cum like a man.  So at this point, I’m assuming it’s permanent, and there’s no reason not to put him back on the pills.

So I went to see my gynecologist for a prescription, and to ask for a brand with a higher dose of estrogen.

And that’s where I discovered a bit of a problem.

As it turns out, all the leukemia bullshit interferes with a doctor’s willingness to prescribe hormonal birth control (I knew I shouldn’t have told her, dammit.  I usually don’t tell doctors anything they don’t absolutely need to know.  I broke my own rule and shot myself in the foot).

And it’s not like I could tell her the pills weren’t for me.

So she wouldn’t prescribe it at all.

But

My internist, who is an incredible doctor and easily persuaded, wanted to see me that afternoon for afternoon follow-up from a recent ER visit (I’m fine. It was “stress.”  Because apparently no one told the ER doctor that female hysteria isn’t a thing anymore.  Turns out, it was actually another symptom of, you guessed it, leukemia).

So I convinced him to prescribe the same pills he’d given me before.  It’s a low dose of estrogen, but it’ll work.  And I’m likely going to have to get approval from my oncologist if I want to up the dose.

So the low dose is as good as it gets for now.  But I liked the effects it had on him before, so that’ll work perfectly until I can just flood his system with estrogen.

Because even though the effects so far have been relatively mild, they’re still there, long after he stopped taking the pills.  His tits are still softer, his hips are still rounder, his ass is still perkier.  Putting him back on the pills will likely cause some more awesome (and permanent) changes to his body.

Isn’t that exciting?

It’s pink!

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.

Jesse’s back!

So I don’t know if you guys know this, but there’s this adorably hot sissy I own.  Like, a million kinds of sexiness.

And for the past few months, he’s been dealing with some stuff that make typing about impossible.  So his blog hasn’t been active.  Which is fine, I told him not to worry about it.  It’s not like the blog is going anywhere.

And as it turns out, there are some really cool things he can post that don’t require a lot of typing.

Like sexy pictures that show off his sexiness.

Because I’m just a teensy bit of a fangirl of his sexy, slutty photos. Just a little bit.

And my darling slut is just so accommodating, sending me these amazing, hot, sexy, slutty pictures.  It’s my own personal sissy porn stash.

But you know, it’s selfish of me, keeping a bitch this hot all to myself.  The world should be able to see how unbelievably hot he is.  I should share him with the world.

So I very subtly suggested the possibility of posting them on his blog.  His very own sissy gallery, for the masses to appreciate.

And he, being the sweet, obedient whore that he is, quickly complied, posting three very hot sissy pictures on his blog.

I highly recommend checking them out.  You can find his blog, Sounds Like Jesse, in the sidebar (or down at the bottom if you’re reading this from a phone), or you can click here to see his newest post.

Shopping!!

Okay, so first, it’s been a few days on the antibiotic, and I’m actually doing alright.  Just nausea, headaches, and cramps so far.

And as long as I don’t eat or drink anything, and am not exposed to any kind of strong smell, the nausea is totally manageable.

The point is it’s not sucking as bad as the doctor said it would so far.  I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

And the past couple of days, I’ve had something totally fucking awesome to focus on.

Which would be shopping for a new bedding set for my darling sissy.

What he’s got on his bed now is typical of what you’d find in any normal man’s house.  And my sissy is neither normal nor a man.  So he needs something to better reflect his true self.

He’d be so much more comfortable in something that more closely resembles who he is inside.

Isn’t he lucky that he’s owned by the kind of caring, compassionate woman who would notice such a problem and work to fix it?

Actually, we can thank him for me noticing the problem.  He introduced me to a fantastic new sissy website, thesissystore.com, and I immediately fell in love.

No seriously, I love that site.

But as I was perusing through it, I noticed an unexpected category:  “Bedding.”

Now, the category was actually nothing special.  Just a couple of pillowcases and a pajama set (which my sissy already has).  But it gave me the idea to redo his bed.

A sissy bed for the sissy.  It’s so fitting.

But there are so many wonderful options to choose from!

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Like this one.

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Or this one.

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And isn’t this one lovely?

I mean, there are so many options.

Sooo many options.

And of course, solid pink isn’t the only one available.  There are some very adorable ones with pink and white trim.

 

I mean, just so precious.  And while I certainly love pink, we can’t discount other colors, either.  There are some lovely options in blue

So there is plenty to choose from.  Plenty of options to make him feel like a comfy, cozy sissy all night.

And some of them look very cute and youthful, but there are more “grown-up” options, too.

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Isn’t it so elegant?

And here’s the plan, I’m totally excited about the plan.  He’s going to order the set, but he’s not going to have a single clue about what it looks like, and it’s going to be shipped to my house.

When it gets in, I’m not going to tell him.  I’m going to go to his house, while he’s at work, and put it on his bed, and make it look all pretty.  Then I’m going to leave, so he’ll have no idea I was there.

He’ll get home, walk into his house, completely unsuspecting, then walk into his bedroom to see his new gorgeous sissy bedding there, waiting for him.

Of course he’ll know it’s coming, but he won’t know when.  He’ll just come home from work like any normal day, and there it’ll be, in all its pink, lacy, frilly glory.

I’m unbelievably stoked.

But now, it’s not all about just picking the prettiest picture.  There’s more to it than that.

First of all, the whole reason I’m doing this is to make him feel like a sissy.  All of these bedsets would certainly accomplish that… at first.

But he’s going to be sleeping in it every night.  He’s going to have to deal with it, day in and day out, indefinitely.

So that’s something to keep in mind as I’m shopping.  Some of those sets look absolutely amazing, but with all the bows and lace and frills, much of a pain in the ass is it going to be to take care of?  Can it be machine washed or does it have to be dry-cleaned?  How big and heavy is it?

And on that note, he’s a hot sleeper, so that’s something to take into account as well.  Super thick, heavy comforters may look pretty, but they’ll be just stifling to actually sleep in.  We live in Las Vegas.  It’s a desert.  It’s 120 degrees in the summer (that’s 49 degrees celsius, for my readers outside of the US).

It’s freaking hot.  Massive, thick, heavy comforters just aren’t going to work.

I don’t want the discomfort and the inconvenience of any set to start overshadowing the sissy factor.

So maybe something a little lighter, a little simpler, would be the way to go.

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And it being lighter doesn’t necessarily make it any less frilly.

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Isn’t this precious?

These are all super feminine and sweet.  So maybe a less-is-more approach will be more practical in the day-to-day, while still driving home the fact that he’s a sissy.

And then there’s another approach.  I could go with something more trendy and modern, something you might find in a normal, everyday woman’s house.

dress-up-your-bedroom-with-the-chic-sophisticated-wake-up-frankie-comforter-and-sham-set-designed-with-warm-down-alternative-fill-this-adorable-bedding-features-a-cotton-cover-with-a-pink-and-black-do

Like this, isn’t this pretty?

And since Paris-themed bedding is all the rage now, maybe something like these.

So I mean, there are so many options that may be a little lighter.

But then again, I do love the more ornate ones.

So those are some great options.  But still, there’s more to think about.

Some of these are only available on sites like aliexpress or dhgate.  If you’re not familiar with either of those, think Amazon, but for Chinese sellers.  And not all of those sellers are reputable.  Also, most of them don’t speak English, or speak very broken English.  I’ve gotten a couple things from aliexpress, and I know some people who have had mixed experiences with either aliexpress or dhgate.  It’s a legitimate risk if you’re not buying from an established seller, and none of the sellers that provide these sets have enough of a history and enough customer feedback to make me feel comfortable buying from them.

And then there’s the issue of price.  Some of these are over $500.  And most of them are duvet cover sets, that only come with the duvet covers, bed skirts, and decorative pillows/pillowcases.  So I need to get the duvet insert and sheets separately.  I mean, that’s just insane.

So there’s a lot to think about.  And then of course there’s the humiliation sissy factor (ie, the fun part).  Eventually his entire room is going to be a beautiful, pink, sissy heaven.  It’s exciting.

I’m beyond excited, dude.

I can’t wait.  It’s going to be so epic when it gets in, and he comes home to see it on his bed.  I’m actually tempted to time it so that I finish up just as he’s getting home, so I’ll be there to see his face.

I’d have to do something with my car if I go that route, though.  I still wouldn’t want him to know, I’d want him to be surprised.  Seeing him walk into the bedroom, seeing the look on his face as he sees his new sissy bed for the first time would be epic.

And how awesome is it going to be the first time a man comes to fuck his mouth on his new sissy bed?  Man, it’s just an obscene amount of awesomeness.

The sadist and the sissy

I probably could’ve been in a better mood when I arrived at Sounder’s house and knocked on his door.

He opened it, purposely staying behind it, out of sight, as I walked in.  I figured he was wearing his lingerie, or maybe his wig, or something equally cute to surprise me.

When I saw him step out as he closed the door, I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face as all the shit that had been clinging to me instantly just fell away.  I gasped, and I think I might have even squealed.  I know I squealed inside my head, I can’t remember if that was out loud or not.

He was fully dressed, head to toe, with his wig, makeup done, wearing one of his amazingly sexy outfits, a black blouse with incredibly sexy, figure-hugging, super-tight white jeans that hugged his butt in that seriously sexy way.  He was even wearing his adorable, strappy sandals.

I hurried to put my things down and turned back to him, holding my hands out to him.  “Come here, let me see you!”

I looked him up and down, appraising his makeup, and was wholly impressed.  “You look amazing!”

“I think it’s a disaster,” he replied.

“Why?”

“This took like two hours.”

I giggled (shut up, I can giggle and still be super severe and intimidating and all that).  “You’ll get faster with practice.”

And seriously, I felt like an idiot, I couldn’t look at him without smiling.  And it occurred to me that I didn’t care if I looked like an idiot.  Fucking hell, but he is one goddamn sexy sissy.

It didn’t take long for my lust to get the better of me, and I walked behind him, cupping his perfect, perky ass through those deliciously tight jeans and reaching further down, between his legs, to rub against the hole I was planning on annihilating later.

A moment later, I reached my hand down his pants, grabbing his ass and groping him like a horny teenage boy.  It didn’t take me long to get his pants undone and down around his ankles, along with the white, lacy panties he wore underneath.

I pressed the tip of a slick finger against him, then pushed it in, a chill going down my spine at the sound of his adorable little gasp at being penetrated.

Seriously, like holy fucking shit, this little girl is hot.

“Take your pants off,” I told him.  Then, after just a second’s hesitation, “The shirt and wig, too.”

Because as good as he looked with it on, I wanted to be rough with him, and didn’t want to mess it up, or have it get in my way.

Once he was naked, I stood behind him, grabbed him around his shoulders, and yanked him back against me, completely off balance, and the way he just yielded to it was even hotter.

For a moment, I kissed and teased his ear, then turned him, without letting him regain his balance, flipping him over and lowering him down to his hands and knees.  I kept it mostly mild, we were still in the living room, and he has windows.  But I couldn’t resist a little slap here, or a little spank there.

I had a specific plan for him, and due to the logistics of it, we decided that his downstairs bathroom would be the place for it.  I wasn’t going to do that quite yet, though, so we went to the downstairs guest room instead.

Once we were there, I buckled a sturdy leather collar around his neck, pulled out a new dildo and shoved it unceremoniously in his mouth, slapping him around a bit.

I kept it mild with the slapping though.  He doesn’t dislike being slapped (and was surprisingly eager and enthusiastic about it when I first broached the subject), but I have to be careful about leaving marks on his face, and he’s prone to migraines, and causing one from hitting him too hard wasn’t all that high on my list of things to do that night.

That’s one of those things we’ll have to be super careful, and super slow, about raising the intensity.  And since that wasn’t the primary focus of the night, I preferred to err on the side of caution.  We’ll work on figuring out how hard I can safely slap him soon, though.  Hitting him is ten kinds of fucking amazing.

And really, he was so fucking cute, gagging on the cock in his mouth, and choking when I shoved it in deep.

I was impressed, though.  I figured out that, when he’s given the chance to control it, he actually has some really good deepthroating skills.  There was one moment in particular when he, eager to please me, pushed forward hard against my hand, taking the cock as far as it would go, and holding it there, pushing even harder, until I felt that unique change in pressure as it slid far past the point that should’ve stimulated his gag reflex, and down his throat.

He pushed himself to take it farther, to keep it there longer, until, coughing and sputtering, he pulled back, lowering his head as he gagged.

In the next moment, he took a deep breath, lifting his head back up, his lips parted as he waited for me to push the cock back into his mouth.

He really is an excellent cocksucker when he’s given the freedom to do it on his own.  When I fuck his mouth, however, he has a little bit more trouble suppressing his gag reflex.

Which is something I’m going to have a ridiculous amount of fun breaking him of.  I want more than him sucking cock.  I want his face thoroughly and relentlessly fucked by men who will further degrade and objectify him, reducing him to nothing but a pair of holes to take their pleasure from.

Before long, his eyes started watering, smearing his makeup in that particular way that happens when women (or sissies) are made to choke on cock.  And it only made him hotter.

I was relentless with him, forcing it into his mouth, down his throat, grinning when his eyes watered and tears fell, his body convulsing as he tried hard not to throw up, and calmly and quietly enduring every slap that landed on his face.

He really is such a good boy, and he works so hard to please me.  A boy that good deserves a reward.

Finally, I released him, telling him “Stay,” tossing the dildo on the bed and rummaging through my bag again, looking for something specific.

One of my favorite toys to use on any boy is a long, slender prostate massager, a kind that’s surprisingly cheap and common to find literally anywhere, which makes how effective it is even more amazing.  Most people would say it’s the most basic kind of massager out there, but sometimes the most basic kind is the best kind.

I lubed it up and sat on the edge of the bed, while he knelt on all fours in front of me, his ass to me.

“This is a fantastic view,” I told him, sliding the massager smoothly into him, using the angled bulb at the end to put pressure on his prostate.

He gave a low, shuddering moan and eased back, urging the massager deeper into him.  I grinned.  My darling, eager slut.  He loves it deep, and hard, and fast.

I kept the pressure steady, thrusting it smoothly in and out of him, until his moans intensified and I knew he’d had his first orgasm.

Oh, one of many, I thought, grinning, as I kept the pressure up, fucking him through his orgasm.

The second (or maybe the third) orgasm, he fell forward, the massager momentarily falling out of him.  I didn’t hesitate, pushing it immediately back in, keeping that intensity up.

Relentlessly, I fucked him with it, as orgasm after orgasm wracked his body.  More than once, he felt the carpet beneath him, expecting to feel his cum there.

But no, he cums like a girl now.  Not a man.

The sounds coming from him grew increasingly desperate as he was more and more overwhelmed.  And still, I didn’t stop.

After the tenth-ish (I think), I twisted the bottom of the massager, turning on the vibration.  He gasped and moaned with the unexpected sensation, and his orgasms started coming faster and harder.  I almost didn’t even have to move it.  All I had to do was keep that vibrating bulb against his prostate.

He lowered his head, whimpering, still subconsciously moving forward, trying to get away.  I just moved with him, eventually rising up off the bed and standing beside him, keeping that pressure there.

It was getting harder and harder for him to stay still, and he buried his face in the carpet, his hands gripping his ankles in what I assume was an attempt to keep from squirming away, his adorable cries getting louder, longer, and higher as he lost himself in the sensation.

I didn’t speak much during any of this, allowing him the freedom to lose himself in his head, to focus only on the pleasure rolling through him, free from distraction.  And really, he gave me such a lovely show.

He wasn’t pushing back against me anymore, trying to fuck himself on whatever was inside him, like he usually did.  Pinned against the wall, he couldn’t squirm any farther forward, could do nothing but whimper and whine and moan while I thoroughly, relentlessly fucked him.

Finally, after his…. Oh hell, I don’t even know.  20th, maybe?… orgasm, his body finally went slack, and he slid to the side, collapsing onto his stomach, panting and gasping.

I grinned, momentarily considering moving with him and continuing my use of his hole, but decided against it.  This was supposed to be a reward, after all.

I knelt down next to him, running my hands soothingly along his body as he rolled over, completely spent, onto his back.

“Feel good?” I asked, smiling.

“Holy fuck,” he replied, still squirming involuntarily, just a bit.

After a moment, he deliberately moved his leg across the area of the carpet he’d been kneeling over.

I laughed.  “You thought you squirted?”

“I could’ve sworn I did,” he replied.  “I swear at one point I looked back and saw a stream.”

“I think that was precum,” I told him.  “You were dripping quite a bit.”

He nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath.  I was still smiling.

“You do know I’m not done with you yet, right?”

“I know.”

“Then roll over.”

He obediently rolled onto his stomach, and I pulled a paddle out of the bag, hitting him hard with it.  Shortly after, I switched to my hand, spanking his ass, thoroughly reddening it, and mixing that with a few long strokes of raking my nails painfully down his back.

But then, I rose to my feet and told him to stand up, too.  I walked into the bathroom, surveying the tub, and quickly figured out the logistics.

I turned to him.

“I need the tub filled with cool water, I need something soft on the floor that you can kneel on, that you don’t mind getting wet, and I need an extra towel.  And wash all your makeup off.”

He nodded, hurrying to fulfill my commands.  By the time he was done, I sat on the toilet seat beside the tub, two lengths of rope in my hands.

I told him to come stand in front of me, positioned him the way I wanted him, and began tying the rope around his thighs, binding his wrists to them.

Once I was satisfied it would hold him, but wouldn’t be too tight, I had him kneel down, facing the tub, and stood behind him.

“How’s your ass?” I asked.  “Is it sore?”

He shrugged, shaking his head.  “Not really.”

“Oh good.”  I bent him over and slid a lubed plug into his ass.  Judging by his grunts as I pushed it in, I guessed he was maybe a little more sore than he thought.

The tub was full, so I turned off the water, then grabbed him by the leash attached to his collar, pulling him back against me.

“Do you know what I’m going to do to you?” I asked, gently caressing his neck, shoulders, and chest.

“No.”

“Are you nervous?”

“A little.”

I grinned.  Only a little?

I had the dildo nearby, along with a long, thin cane, but I wasn’t going to use those quite yet.

I pushed him down until his chest was resting on the edge of the tub, his face over the water.  And then, with a firm hand on the back of his neck, I pushed down further, until his face was submerged.

For a moment, he was still, obeying the unspoken command that was the pressure of my hand on his neck.

And then, once his lungs began burning, he began struggling, pushing up against me.  I held him down only a second longer before releasing him, letting him up.  I gave him a moment to catch his breath, then pushed him under again.

This time, I held him down a fraction of a second longer before letting him up, pulling him upright by his collar, his head against my chest, and shoved the cock in his mouth, gagging him.  When he coughed and sputtered, I slapped him and pushed him back down into the water.

The longer this went on, the longer I held him down once he started struggling, the harder I made him push back against me before releasing him and shoving the cock back down his throat.

At one point, I bent him back over, but didn’t push him under, instead turning my attention to the cane, and his reddened, spanked ass.

It didn’t take long before his grunts of pain told me he was reaching his pain threshold, and I grinned, setting the cane down.  I knew each sting of the cane would cause him to clench his sore, raw muscles on the plug in him.

And just to prove my point, I reached down and tugged on the plug, loving the sounds he makes when he’s in pain.

The longer I went on, the more tired and worn out he seemed to get (what a shock).  Finally, he said, “Okay, I need this taken out.”

I kept him bent over, resting his weight on the edge of the tub, and hooked my fingers firmly around the plug.  It wasn’t overly big, but he was already sore, and his skin was already irritated to the point that just having it in had become unbearable.

It was going to hurt coming out.

“Are you ready?” I asked him, one hand on the small of his back to steady him.

“Yeah,” he said through gritted teeth.

With one smooth, quick motion, I pulled it all the way out.  And his scream was every kind of delicious.

Exhausted and in pain, he fell to the side, leaning against the tub, resting his head on the edge, trembling and panting.  I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, giving him the time he needed to recover.

After a few moments, he sighed and straightened up, and I pulled him back against me, gently this time, and again ran my fingers along his body.  I quickly untied his hands and stepped back as he staggered to his feet, bent over, his hands on his knees.

I took the opportunity to remove his collar, and the relief of having that tension gone was audible in his voice.

When he straightened up, I smiled at him.  “How do you feel?” I asked him.

He gestured with his hands, a movement I translated as “shaky,” so I said, “Come on, come lie down.”

We went back to the bed, and he sat down on the edge, sighing and panting as he tried to get his head right again.

After a few minutes, he sighed and said, “Was that shorter than you wanted?”

“No,” I told him quickly, rubbing his shoulder.  I was sitting behind him, so he didn’t see me smile.

He’d just been pushed to the point of screaming in pain, barely able to stand upright, and five minutes later, he was asking if I was happy with him, or if he’d somehow disappointed me.

That’s where his head was.  That’s what was important to him in that moment.

My sweet, darling, obedient little sissy.

I pulled him back to lie down on the bed, grabbed the lube, and began stroking his cock.  I knew it wouldn’t make him cum (and I doubted he’d be up for another orgasm at that point, even if he could), but I wanted something that would feel mostly good to him.

I mean, of course I worked it once he got sensitive, making him squirm.  I couldn’t be too nice to him.

But I didn’t torture him too much, or for too long.  He’d had a long evening.

I told him to get up and get dressed, and I got all my things together and put them back in my bag.  We went back into the living room, where he poured us both glasses of water, and we sat down on the couch.

I pulled him to me immediately, and we sat for a few moments, watching TV.  Then, I kissed the top of his head and pushed him up.

“I’m going to head out,” I told him.  The poor boy needed to rest, after what I’d put him through.  And I actually didn’t keep him up later than he was used to staying up, for a change.  He needed sleep.

He walked me to my car, hugged me, and I drove off.

It definitely gave me plenty of awesome memories to help get me through the next few days of dealing with my psychotic mother.

Sissy slut

I’d been wanting to have Sounder’s makeup professionally done for awhile.  The transformation I could see in my head just exceeds my own skills.

So we set an appointment for this past weekend.  And, as I’m sure you all know, I had lots and lots and lots of fun in the days and hours leading up to that appointment.  The poor sissy’s blood pressure was probably off the charts.

He was so nervous and flustered.  It was adorable.

I went to his house, grinning when I saw that he’d moved both his truck and his motorcycle so I could park in the garage.

Clever girl, thinking ahead like that.  Can’t have the neighbors thinking that I’m bringing random sluts to his house.

We had a few minutes before we had to leave, so we made sure we had everything we’d need, and spent a bit chatting.  He poured me a glass of wine, and refilled his own glass.  I couldn’t help but laugh when he pulled a small bottle of liquor out of a cabinet and put it in his pocket.

“You know that’s not going to help you, right?” I asked.

“Oh, I know.”

We got into my car and I drove to the place.  The woman greeted us, and told us that it would be just a few minutes, and she’d be right with us.  I entertained myself by looking at her massive wall-o-pictures, pointing out some of the better ones to Sounder.

Because as nervous as he was about being made into a feminine sissy, and what he would have to do later (oh I had plans for him), there was one thing he was significantly more nervous about:

What if it doesn’t look good?

For weeks, we’d been going around and around about it.  He was wholly unimpressed by the pictures he found on her website and facebook page, and was nervous that she would do a terrible job and he’d look awful.

I pointed out that, if someone isn’t an attractive man, they’re not going to make an attractive woman.  Also, quite a few of the pictures posted were of people who were a bit older than Sounder.

A 65-year-old man is not going to get his makeup done and come out looking like Emilia Clarke.  He’ll come out looking like a 65-year-old woman.  Which, of course, is fucking awesome.

But when you’re a 40-year-old, with just the teensiest tendency to worry awholefuckinglot, and with no “before” pictures to compare, all those somewhat-manly-looking pictures aren’t super reassuring.

More than the humiliation of having to endure it, more than being seen by more than one person that way, more than yet another piece of his masculinity being taken from him, that was what worried him the most.

But I’ve done makeup (mostly on myself) for awhile now.  I’m no professional, but I’m pretty good at it.  And no one has ever studied his face the way I have. He’s got a good face shape, striking blue eyes, and dark hair (which would be covered by the wig anyway).  He’s an attractive man, and I knew, just because I know these things, that he would look amazing as a woman, too.

He still wasn’t convinced by the pictures on the wall, and soon it was time for us to go back.  She told us to get him completely dressed from the neck down.

And that’s when we realized that the fashion choice I made wasn’t the best option.  I told him to bring a short, black bodycon dress that he looks fucking amazing in.  I forgot how heavy and thick it is, I forgot about the long sleeves, and I wasn’t expecting her to have practically no air conditioning.

Because it’s only 111 degrees outside.  Why would you want your place of business to have air conditioning?

Yeah, so oops.  I told him he could change as soon as we got back to his place.  He put the dress on and sat in the chair, facing the mirror.  A moment later, the woman came back and asked me what kind of makeup I wanted.

“Do you want sweet?  Sultry?  Day?  Night?  Glamour?”

“Let’s go with sweet and innocent,” I told her, with a very not-sweet-and-innocent grin at Sounder.

I had to laugh, though.  A minute in, she paused and turned to me, and asked, “Do you want his eyebrows gone?  I have wax, do you want them gone?”

And my immediate thought was, do not wax his fucking eyebrows off, you psycho!  Seriously, I think my heart rate almost doubled.

But no, she meant covering them up with eyebrow wax and drawing a more feminine brow on him.  Which was way better.  She assured me that the wax would come off with soap and water, and he’d be able to be fully back in “guy mode” (or, more accurately, “pseudo-guy mode”) the next day.

She could tell from the beginning that I was running the show.  She directed all her questions to me, she asked my opinion instead of his, and I was the one she primarily spoke to.  But both Sounder and I picked up on the fact that our particular dynamic was not her normal clientele, and that she wasn’t particularly into it.

Which was a bummer, because when I first talked to her (at least, I assume it was her.  I don’t think there’s anyone else), she seemed so into it.  She giggled when I gave her Sounder’s sissy name, instead of his legal one.  She seemed intrigued when I explained what I wanted to do with him afterward.

I’m thinking she might have been fascinated by the idea, but the reality may have been a little jarring for her.  She’s used to men who want the makeup, who are already somewhat feminine in their voice/movements/body language/demeanor/whatever, who are eager and excited to do it.  Sounder was far from eager and excited, there’s very little about his demeanor anyone could call feminine, and he was so nervous about it not looking good, that may have translated into perceived reluctance to get it done.

Oh, well.  So she wasn’t the humiliatrix I’d hoped she’d be.

Less than an hour later, she stepped back and asked Sounder what he thought.  He turned to me, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

He looked pretty.  Downright pretty.

But I knew he was dying in that dress.  So we grabbed our things together and got in the car, where I turned up the ac as high as it would go.

Still, I couldn’t help but pull up his dress in the car and stroke him through his panties.  I drive an SUV, and he pulled his dress back down when we pulled up at a stop light next to another SUV.

“High car,” he said, pointing out that they could look over and see us clearly.

I took my hand away, patting his leg.  “Alright.  But it’ll just look like I’m fingering my girlfriend.”

We got back to his place and I let him take the wig and the dress off.  He hesitated at taking the wig off, because he didn’t want me to feel cheated out of the experience.  But I assured him that I was happy, that he’d be wearing the wig plenty, and right then I was more concerned about him not passing out from heat stroke before I had the chance to completely abuse and degrade him.

And actually, his makeup looked even better without the wig.  Multiple times throughout the afternoon, I’d look at him and just be struck by how much younger he looked.  But the wig aged him.  She had styled it in a way that made him look older.

We’ll have to fix that for next time.

He changed into his pretty, 50s housewife dress and a pair of more comfortable heels.  After pouring another glass of wine for each of us, he went to work in the kitchen, fixing us something to eat.

You know, like a good little housewife.

I didn’t realize that he hadn’t even looked at himself yet, until he’d had a chance to cool down and relax, and we put the wig back on.

The eyebrow wax had come off a bit, but the makeup lady had warned us that was possible if he got too hot.  And I couldn’t fix it.

But even with that, he looked pretty.  He walked down the hall to his bathroom, and came back a moment later.

“I think, as long as we can fix the eyebrows, I’d be comfortable going out in public like this.”

Which seriously made my week.  “Really?” I asked, smiling like a crazy person.

“Are you serious?  I look like a completely different person.”

“You look good.”

“It looks better than I thought it would.”

I was still grinning like an idiot, and shamelessly gloating.  “I told you that you’d look amazing.”

“I just didn’t want to think that anyone could be better than you at anything.”

Awww……..

He can be pretty damn smooth sometimes.

But hell yeah she was better at it than I am.  She does offer a tutorial session, though, and that’s going to be the next appointment.  I’m going to learn how to do that.

And, of course, Sounder is going to learn how to do it.  Every girl needs to know how to do her own makeup.

My phone went off, and I looked down to see a text from Kazander.

“He’ll be here in about twenty minutes,” I told Sounder.

Sounder nodded, immediately downing the rest of his wine.  I laughed.

“That’s still not going to help you.”

“It’s going to try.”

To be continued…..