This week’s story is about you.
You see, after I’ve feminized you, I’m going to sell you to a stern, older man: the strong master you need.
I want you to imagine that you have just arrived at his house and he now asks you to stand before him.
You are right up close to Mister Banner’s massive chest. You can sense the heat coming from his body and the musky smell that emanates from it, seeping through the thin material of his cotton shirt. All your sissy life your sissy clit has got hard when you watch women do on TV what you now do. You place your palms on his rippling chest and rub it slowly in small concentric circles. You’ve never felt anything so delicious before – the sheer hardness and breadth of his manly torso has your sissy clit swelling. Savouring every inch, you continue rubbing and touching and soaking up the smell of his manly body. You look up into your master’s eyes.
“Unbutton my shirt?” he orders sternly.
His top button is already undone so you go for the second, fingers trembling with the desire to discover more of that powerful mass of muscle.
Because you have always been so attracted to the idea of being a woman, you find women attractive, but as you stand before your master’s barrel chest and undo his shirt button by button you finally know what it is you truly want: a man…a big, strapping, older man like this. It is like being reborn and your quivering hands explore the twisted hairs and deep contours of his muscly chest. You marvel at how right your mistress was: you needed a master not a mistress. And, having realised you belong with a man, you immediately feel that man pushing you downwards to your rightful place.
“Get on your knees, you little whore.”
“Yes, Master,” you answer.
You are now face to face with that bulging crotch. You’ve never been so close to a man’s crotch before and you lick your sissy lips in anticipation. Being in a kneeling position is straining the straps of your garter belt beneath the shiny pencil skirt. Your little nipples are almost painful they are so erect, poking through your satin blouse like two pencil points.
“Take it out, whore!”
There’s no prizes for guessing what ‘it’ refers to. As soon as you touch the button of his trousers the palm of your hand feels the protrusion beneath. You know it’s naughty and not what Master told you to do, but you can’t help let your hand fall slightly and put your fingertips on top of the bulge. With your index finger you trace its outline far down the zip and to the right. What you feel is almost beyond belief. The only willy you’ve ever touched is your dwarven sissy clit, and this is enormous…so meaty…so substantial…like a massive thick salami. You let out a whimper of excitement.
“Do you like that, Anna?
“What do you like about it?”
You continue to stroke and explore the massive bulge. “It’s so big.”
“That’s right…now let me help you out a moment.”
You put your hands by your side as he undoes the button, slips off his trousers and stands in his boxers. He pulls his underwear down and the dangling appendage is as big as it felt, issuing forth from a forest of pubes like a phallic pendulum. Flaccid, it hangs way past the huge balls it rests on and the helmet is so bulbous that it creates a ski slope effect. You know you should probably be coy and ease it into your mouth slowly, but that fat willy looks so tasty you immediately gobble the whole thing, placing it in your mouth until his wiry pubes are rubbing against your nose.
At first you suck on it like an orange – as if you’re trying to squeeze juice out of it – but your sissy training establishes itself and you do what needs to be done. Slowly bobbing your head back and forth, your mouth and tongue travel from the hilt of his cock to the bulbous helmet in deliberate, well timed movements. It works, and you feel Master’s sausage hardening in your mouth – which turns you on so much that your sissy clit attempts one of its diddy erections. But of course it can’t…and that is the wonderful thing about chastity: when a sissy realises they cannot get hard or touch their little sissy clitty, they invest everything in pleasuring their master because there is no other way to channel their arousal. And that’s what happens now as you start sucking cock with absolute fury and gusto.
Your master grunts in appreciation, which only inspires you more, until he stops you. You look up to see if you’ve done something wrong but have no time to consider the idea further because he grabs you – one hand on each side of the head like a football player picking up a trophy.
“Open wide, little slut!”
“Yes, Ma…” you respond, but the last syllables are garbled as he rams his fully erect cock into your sissy mouth and starts putting it to the use it was designed for: to be his fuck hole. Back and forth he starts pounding, deep throating you so deep his cock is starring in a remake of Jules Verne’s Journey to the center of earth – his bell-end is surfacing somewhere in Sydney. All you can do is fold your hands neatly on your satin skirt and orally accommodate his eight-inch truncheon…gagging and emitting a series of garbled grunts as you do so.
This defiling of his sissy maid’s mouth makes your master harder and harder until you start thinking his cock will go on expanding like the universe. But you are wrong… Mister Banner has now reached his maximum girth and length, and with it…maximum arousal. He has enjoyed fucking your whore’s throat so much that he needs release and he withdraws and starts masturbating his giant dong right at the cusp of your lips. You prepare your whore mouth for the other purpose it was designed for: a cum repository.
“Now…be a good little girl and take all of that creamy white milk.”
He grunts, and you open wide as your master pushes his inflated bell-end further into the entrance of your oral cavity. He starts to pump thick, gooey sperm into it. It comes out in violent spurts separated by one second intervals, hitting the back of your throat and the roof of your mouth like a water pistol.
“Hold all that cream, right where it is…”
Your mouth is brimming with cum. There is so much of it that it’s already starting to seep out. Unable to voice your assent to the command, you nod your head. And that’s when catastrophe strikes. You are so keen to nod your assent that you do it with too much force and the frothy goo spills out of your mouth and down the front of your satin blouse.
“You naughty little girl!” Master shouts. As he looks down at you his stern features are set in a portrait of fury. You gulp with fear, therefore gulping down the rest of the cum. Your master’s deflating willy is just centimetres from your mouth. Worse than any rebuke or reprimand is the silence…he stares down at you and you wilt under his gaze.
“Sorry, Master,” you whine.
“Sorry Master! Look at the front of your blouse!”
You look down and there’s a long streak of white bubbly goo all over the left breast of the shiny silver fabric. Even the pretty lace bow has a cum stain on it.
“Do you know how much that cost? Do you think I work hard so you can go ruining the things I buy for you?”
You say nothing, confused by the negative question and not knowing whether the correct answer is ‘yes, Master’ or ‘no, Master.’
“When the Master cums…good little girls hold it all in their mouths until the Master tells them to swallow. Is that clear?”
“Right, do my trousers back up.”
You lift Mister Banner’s boxer shorts, ease them over the enormous flaccid member and pull his trousers up. He starts rolling up his sleeves with a look of grim determination.
“Now, Ana, as you well know…it’s important that you grow up to respect rules and a respect for the rules only comes when there are consequences for breaking those rules. Do you respect the rules of my house?”
“Good…so in that case…you must know already that you’ve been naughty and that you need to be punished!