Sounder posted pictures of his gorgeous, beautiful sissy bed.
Omigawd it’s so pretty! I’m so excited! Look at it!
Sounder posted pictures of his gorgeous, beautiful sissy bed.
Omigawd it’s so pretty! I’m so excited! Look at it!
You have come here
In pursuit of your deepest urge
In pursuit of that wish which till now has been 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
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.
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?
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?”
“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.”
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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?
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.
You know what’s really funny? Scheduling a post to upload, and completely forgetting about it (including forgetting to finish it) until you see all the email notifications the next morning. I’ve been a bit scatterbrained.
In other news, I’m out of Asheville and made the trip back to the bustling metropolis of Kernersville, North Carolina (population: 24,000). But there’s reliable internet and air conditioning, and it’s reasonable to assume that, staying indoors, I’m safe from mosquitos and bugs eating me alive in the night. So now I’m playing catch-up. If you’re waiting for communication from me, I promise it’s coming. Before I go to sleep tonight.
Yesterday was intense as fuck, and by the time I made it back to civilization, my first instinct was to find a way to get myself centered and balanced again.
I don’t know if any of you are aware of this, but there’s this adorable, awesome sissy I own, who is all kinds of awesomely awesome awesomeness. From the very first text he sent me after I told him I’d finally finished with the hippies and was heading to a hotel for the night, he made me smile.
Before losing touch with technology, I’d given him an assignment. I wanted him to fuck himself, and I wanted pictures.
This isn’t a unique assignment, I often have him do it. I love the idea of something filling him up, and I’m a very visual person, and I love looking at porn. So it’s not unusual for me to want pictures of my boys. My very own personal porn stash, made just for me.
And Sounder has been fighting a cold, and wasn’t 100%, so I knew the pic(s) he sent me would be on the more mild side.
But hell, I wasn’t going to complain. He’s fucking hawt, and seeing pictures of him naked or in lingerie, with something sticking out of him, never fails to make me happy.
I asked him about the pictures, and he told me that yes, he’d taken them, and asked if I was in a safe place for them.
Which immediately caused me to raise a brow. He’d never asked that before. But I shrugged that thought off and told him that I was alone-ish (my kid was in the room with me, but she was otherwise occupied), and that he could send them.
Over the next five minutes, my phone went off 9 times. And literally, all I could do was sit there, staring at my screen, stunned, my jaw dropped. I’m pretty sure I was drooling at some point.
No, seriously, like holy. fucking. shit.
Three different toys, one outfit change, in three different rooms of his house. Like, oh my gawd.
And every one was unbelievably fucking hot. Like, I want to get them printed and frame these fucking things.
You guys don’t understand. He even wore the bra I’d left him in one of the pictures. Two pictures of him plugged, one of him sucking his massive dildo, three of him either on all fours or on his back, fucking himself with a slender blue vibe, and three of him squatting on the floor, fucking himself with the massive dildo, that was attached to the floor with the suction cup on the end (he told me that, because of the size, it’s much easier to manage when he can attach it to something and fuck himself that way, rather than using his hand to push it in).
It was beyond hot. Like, holyfuckingshit.
He said, “I’m glad you like them, I figured you might need a distraction so I went a bit overboard.”
While he was still fighting a cold.
No seriously, I fucking love this girl.
The first picture he sent, one of the ones of him plugged, he told me he’d be comfortable with me sharing, as long as I blurred the background beyond recognition.
I love everything about it. I love the way his back is arched, the way his ass sticks out, the way his posture accentuates his feminine curves, the way his hair (which he curled, himself) tumbles down his back, the way the plug peeks out from inside him, the contrast of the black lingerie against his pale, smooth skin (that I immediately want to bruise and mark up, as soon as I see it).
Jesus, there is nothing about this sissy that doesn’t just ooze fuckability. No one would ever kick him out of bed.
This was the first picture he sent me, and as soon as I saw it, all I could do was suck my breath in a little and murmur under my breath, “Oh, Goddamn…”
So I know the position he’ll be in next time I fuck him.
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.”
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…..
With scheduling conflicts and illnesses making for annoying obstacles, it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to spend some time with Sounder. Tonight, that changed.
And man, I was feeling sadistic, the poor boy.
After a glass of wine, I told him to take his clothes off, and noticed that his chest was red. He explained that he’d waxed earlier, and didn’t expect it to react that much.
It’s only the second time he’s ever been waxed, so the reaction wasn’t surprising. Still, I need to get a new wax kit of my own here soon, and I’ll look and see if I can find anything for sensitive skin. Maybe that’ll help.
The really fun part, though, was just how sensitive the whole area was. I reached out to touch him super softly, and he flinched away.
“That hurts?” I asked.
I grinned. Oooh, this would be fun.
Oh, and as it turns out, my nails, which I usually keep short, were much longer than usual. So running my nails across his chest was a lot of fun, and his reactions were so cute. He squirmed and gasped so nicely.
I love bending him over the island in his kitchen and groping him. It’s a lot of fun, and he makes the most adorable sounds. Some pleasure, mixed with some pain, and he’s basically (to quote him) a puppy dressed as a baby duck. It’s that cute.
We went upstairs, and I saw his new dress lying on the bed. He hadn’t tried it on yet, and I was so excited to see it on him.
And he looks awesome in it. It’s a lovely retro, pin-up style dress, pink with black polka dots with a halter top. It’s so cute, and he looks so good in it. I think I like it even more than the sexy black bodycon dress he has.
After putting the dress on, I told him to put his makeup on, and we both noticed that the makeup looked off.
“I look like Skeletor,” he said.
“You’ve been out in the sun, haven’t you?”
“Well, it is 130 degrees out.”
Pfft. I don’t even think it cracked 110 today. But he’s gotten tan. The foundation is too pale for him.
So I know what shade he needs, and I’ll pick that up. But we made do with what we had, and he continued putting it on, while I lifted up the dress and set about seeing how well he could keep his focus while being teased, stroked, and fingered.
His reactions were beyond adorable, and as it turns out, fingering him is enough to shatter his focus. Which, of course, is one of those incredibly useful bits of information that you just store away for some particular scenario that may or may not happen in the future.
No, there’s nothing ominous about that at all.
I made him wear a wig earlier in the day, and he mentioned how hot it was, so I let him go without. He looked cute enough without it.
But here’s the thing. I’ve always loved pin-up clothes, makeup, and hair. Whenever I go out, that’s my own preferred style. And I think Sounder would look amazing with that style.
He mentioned wanting to cook me dinner, and that’s immediately where my mind went. He would look so cute in the kitchen, wearing that dress with a retro, frilly apron, with the full pin-up hair and makeup. Just like a 50’s housewife.
My darling little housewife. He’d cook for me, and then I’d bend him over the sink while he’s doing the dishes and fuck him raw. That’s a fabulous idea.
Speaking of fucking him raw, I sure did that tonight. The poor boy hasn’t been fucked in so long, and his pussy was so tight, I could barely get my cock inside him. He’ll make whatever man I give/sell his virginity to very happy.
But really, it was the pain I was the most interested in. And I love how hard he gets whenever I hurt him, I love how he squirms, how he gasps, I love his facial expressions when I hurt him, I love making him scream.
So I backed him into the corner and turned my attention to his nipples and his chest, and I think it’s safe to assume he’s not a fan of me having long nails, particularly when his skin is red and irritated.
Oh, but it was sooo much fun.
Then I told him to lie down. I took out my wand, plugged it in, and held it against his clit, stroking it, teasing it until it was ultra sensitive, then torturing him with it.
Which is always fun. And he’s so cute when he begs me to stop. Really, lots of cuteness all around.
I had to laugh, though. When I finally stopped with the wand, after, I dunno, maybe half an hour (he still can’t cum like a man), I started pinching and twisting his dick, and didn’t get a reaction.
“Really?” I asked. “Nothing?”
“Oh, that is so much better,” he replied. I had to laugh. He prefers being hurt to being pleasured. He was completely soft almost the entire time I pleasured him, but it sprang to life when I started hurting it.
So between that, and not being able to cum, vanilla sex is pretty much out of the question.
Oh darn, poor thing. I guess he’ll just have to get his pleasure from being fucked like the little bitch he is. Like a pretty little housewife.