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New!Gallery New!Stories
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A Meeting at Red Door The heavy plate glass door opened very slowly; just wide enough to allow Her to see my eager, anxious face.
I smiled nervously and stepped inside the Red Door Dungeon carrying my customary little satchel.
Mistress Louise D was wearing an emerald green satin dress that was cut in the Chinese fashion, high necked and
slit up the sides so that I got a quick glimpse of ample ivory thigh and dark stockings.
Under my street clothes I was wearing navy blue cotton stockings gartered snuggly around my chubby thighs
by pink satin ribbons and a pair of old-fashioned Victorian knickers, lacy, racy and opened back. It has long
been thought that these garments were designed to expedite Mademoiselle’s visit to toilet, but any student of
the times could tell you that other more devious and delightful duties had prompted that design and I prayed
that Louise might take advantage of me in those lurid fashions!
“Follow me sissy,” She commanded, and I obeyed quickly eager to experience the thrill of Her wide swaying
hips and bouncing womanly rump.
“Are you staring at my ass sissy”?
“No Miss,” I lied just as I had always lied when that question was asked and a cruel smirk covered Her pretty
face. She didn’t say a word yet made a pageant of stopping at a small oval dressing table and examining an
array of hairbrushes, choosing at long last a long handled oval model made from very dense ebony wood.
This Mistress could intimidate me like no other person on earth and my knees felt suddenly wobbly and weak.
She knew full well of all discipline instruments I possessed little tolerance to the hairbrush and was indeed at
that very moment close to wetting my knickers. She took a seat while I removed my outer clothing, knelt, and
kissed Her offered hand.
“What have you brought me sissy,” She asked, “A new story, an erotic collage of photographs”?
I timidly opened my satchel and removed the plastic squeeze bottle of honey and the bag of confectioner’s sugar,
a look of confusion covered Her face.
My voice was trembling when I spoke. “I’ve been a good student, have I not? While others were rude and
arrogant I worked diligently to never offend You”.
Louise nodded Her agreement.
My confidence was growing now by leaps and bounds and for the first time since I had concocted this outrageous
scenario, I thought I might really have the chance to succeed!
I opened the honey and sugar.
“Sit back Mademoiselle, relax while I spread You legs and give Your pussy the kind of licking only an adoring
sissy can provide”!
With the speed of Muhammad Ali She began boxing my ears with hard open handed slaps, tears came quickly
causing my mascara to run in rivulets down my cheeks like rain on a hillside.
I tried vainly to crawl away but She was too fast for me, too strong. She took hold of my ear and twisted so hard I
whimpered, then pulled me over that wide warm lap where the outline of my open knickers formed a perfect
framework for the target of the eminent Spankologist.
“Lick my pussy, will you?!” She exclaimed then started the most ferocious spanking of my life.
I immediately realized why hairbrushes scared me so; there seemed no relief, ever!
She took aim at one ivory spot and quickly delivered five or six really good hard smacks that brought a crimson
glow to the area. Then the hairbrush moved to another tender white area, quickly sent it blazing, then moved
again and again till after fifteen minutes my entire girlish rumps were thoroughly toasted, glowing like hot coals,
and sizzling like bacon.
During the entire ordeal I was over Her right knee only and Her left leg was sprawled out in front of me. I took
hold of the slender calf, kissed the stockings, moved lower to ankle, instep, and toe. In a trembling voice I
recited that litany of forgiveness so common to sissies earning their just rewards:
“Please Miss, I’ll be a good girl, I promise, please stop, please”!
My overtures didn’t impress Her one bit, or earn me a modicum of mercy. After my CP I stood sniffling and
clutching my sizzling cheeks while She cut me even more, scolded me, declared that She had been too kind,
too generous, and announced that today I’d learn a lesson for the ages, a lesson that would change my life forever.
Mistress led me to a spanking bench and tethered my waist with a large leather band leaving my wrists and
ankles free to thrash about. Her mood seemed to mellow.
“It’s not all your fault pumpkin,” She said, “True enough you’re a person of little character and weak disposition.
But there are circumstances beyond your control, yet not beyond mine”.
Mistress removed Her dress to reveal a tantalizing long-line panty girdle in the same emerald green as Her frock.
Tiny shoulder straps, two cone shaped cups that cradled Her luscious little breasts, and six suspenders clipped
to the most elegant opera length hose I’d ever seen; She was a vision.
“The real culprit aren’t you darling, but those evil sissy juices that have been building up in your system as you
anticipated session. We’ll rid you of those today and take you on a gender bending journey, a voyage to womanhood.”
The maroon velvet bag She held in Her hand made me tremble with fear. I’d seen it before, knew it contained
an Aneros tool, realized I was in for a milking, the same draining punishment I’d suffered through once before,
a punishment I’d swore could drive me to lunacy.
Of course I’d read about the practice of orgasm control and chastity and knew that She could drain me of my
fluids without triggering any forceful muscle contractions. If Louise carried through with this plan I’d be denied
my darling little sex explosions, perhaps forever!
During our relationship She had long ago claimed the use of my pussy to be Her domain, and now to suggest
She might also be the owner of my orgasms sent a chill of fear through me.
“Now relax while I check your plumbing,” She laughed, opening me with gloved hands as skilled as surgeons
and as magical as sorcerers. I felt the breath quietly leave my body, my pulse lowered, my tummy spread out
on the upholstered bench, I began to purr.
Louise laughed, “Look at you, little tramp, like a schoolgirl getting her first fingering on prom night”.
She removed the Aneros from the velvet bag; an updated model called the Maximus along with a large tube of
a space-age lubricant and began teasing my anus. The tool had a large bulbous head and my body reacted
accordingly, tensing up, denying access.
“OPEN!” She said, and like magic the lips of my sex parted.
The power She has over my every moment always amazed me. I immediately felt the pressure and pleasure
as it contacted my prostate. The bulbous head rolled effortlessly over my gland, massaging me with a lover’s
grace. My anal muscles began to dance and throb, my sissy juices started to drip into a wide mouth glass, a
brandy snifter I think it is called.
Part of the Aneros handle formed a plastic nodule and Louise positioned it against my perineum. Now my P-spot
was being massaged from the outside just as the head was attacking me within, I writhed as chills ran up my
spine. “See little pet,” She said, “The first of your nasty sissy juices are thick and murky, they’ve been polluting
your tiny mind”.
By now I could barely hear Her, I was in another world, a world of intense ecstasy.
My body betrayed me, I began an involuntary muscle contraction, my sphincters trying desperately to lead me
to explosion.
Louise sensed the rebellion and removed the Aneros and then delivered two open handed slaps to either cheek
of my derriere; “NO”, She shouted.
Each time my muscles responded, every time She felt a spasm or flinch She removed the tool and slapped
my posteriors till finally in fewer than ten minutes I was totally defeated. I began a hypnotic gentle emission.
Louise tortured me for fifteen minutes, took a brief rest, and then began a second round, then a third, and finally
a fourth. In between each session the brandy snifter was replaced by a new empty glass and Louise carefully
inspected each against the other for volume, opacity, and color. The final round started with a delightful squeal
of glee and Louise exclaiming that my juices were now transparent, crystal clear, as clear and pure as a woman’s
sexual juices.
It didn’t surprise me, at that moment, that wondrous moment when I felt as much a woman as I ever wanted to be.
I had experienced waive after waive of delicious and delightful mini O’s that left me feeling femy and alive.
“It’s divine, isn’t it pumpkin?” She said, “your nipples are swollen delightfully, but what of your clitty darling”?
The words shocked me. I knew it was still there, semi-erect, wet and dripping, and yet….unimportant, except as
a drain for my fluids! At that moment I stared into the mirror, into Louise’s eyes, and saw a new woman.
Mistress often seemed complacent, unmoved by our games, even those where I had found intense pleasures.
The Louise I saw now was a sexually ferocious looking animal. She stepped in front of my face, “and look what
you’ve done to me Miss fancypants”.
I stared down between Her legs.
The fabric that constituted the panty part of the girdle was of a much finer denier then the rest of the garment,
and it was now dark with Her excitement and clinging to the outline of Her flower forming a gorgeous little
Cameltoe. Louise pressed against my face and I was overwhelmed by the scent and the taste of goddess.
I planted several kisses in adoration.
When She bent to step into harness the majesty of another gift shook me. I stretched and strained till my lips
made contact and kissed each robust cheek then furrowed into the center till my nose rested against the tiny
entrance to another paradise..
She stood and smiled, adjusting a long thick phallus with a large gorgeous head and I realized all those delicious
mini-O’s would blossom into a Super O, a majestic coupling.
My pussy was burning and She stoked the coals hotter and hotter with strong pokes from Her wide hips. It
seemed hips like that were made to drive a rigid cock into the tiniest avenues. I looked into the mirror and saw
that Her eyes were closed and Her mouth gaping open and I could almost see it starting like a huge wave a
thousand miles from shore gaining size and speed and power as it rushed toward the shore.
We screamed, we laughed, we shouted together; me hugging the bench, She digging Her nails into me. Then a
series of final jerks, convulsions, spasms and we were almost lifeless. She remained on my back for a long time
with Her hot little breasts flattened against me and Her phallus still firmly planted in what was now and would
always be my pussy.
At the heavy plate glass door She gave me a tiny hug and patted my derriere, I blushed at the attention.
Then Louise handed me a carved wooden box and opened the door.
That was several years ago, and my Mistress left shortly after that visit, moved away, yet left me with a thrilling
legacy.
The kit contained the Aneros tool, lubricant, liquid soap, alcohol wipes, and feminine napkins and to this day the
former object of my abuse remains quietly snuggled into the nylon confines of my pretty knickers.
Her messages come by email, voicemail, and answering machine every two or three days: “Time again for your
Milking darling, 7:00 tonight,” and I’m thrilled all over again by the words or the sound of that sexy husky voice.
Once each trimester or so I’ll think about returning to my old habits, to fondle and stroke that of me that once
was my all, to find my little explosion, but I just put an “Ellen” rerun on the television, reach inside my Milking
kit, and enjoy my gentle femy emission!
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