Recueil d'histoires d'humiliation de Sissy de Riana Un recueil d'histoires d'humiliation de poules mouillées que j'ai lues et appréciées, mettant fortement l'accent sur les hommes dominants et les garçons soumis ou les poules mouillées.

Beau-père efféminé 3 août 2011 Son dernier petit ami le regardait avec amusement. Il ne devait pas avoir plus de seize ans, jeune et musclé, comme tous les autres. Tant d'autres. La seule vraie différence était que celui-ci était blond ; les rendez-vous de Stéphanie avaient tendance à être noirs ou hispaniques ces derniers temps. Il était nu, le sperme luisant sur sa bite encore turgescente. 23 ou 25 centimètres, estimai-je rapidement. Je doutais de pouvoir tout prendre dans ma bouche. Je n'avais pas encore appris à faire une gorge profonde, même après six mois d'humiliation aux mains de ma belle-fille et de ses prétendants. Il était probablement inexpérimenté aussi, donc il pourrait jouir rapidement si je devais le sucer.

« Est-ce que ta salope est bonne ? » demanda-t-il, prenant un moment pour effleurer du doigt la cage entourant ma bite, ce qui me fit tressaillir. « Très mignonne, au fait, » rit-il. « Je pense que ce look lui va bien. » À part ma tête, j’étais complètement, définitivement sans poils. Elle a dit que cela faciliterait les tatouages ​​qu’elle avait prévus ; jusqu’à présent, il n’y en avait qu’un – le mot « pute de sissy » en lettres minuscules sur ma fesse gauche. Un mascara épais et un rouge à lèvres rouge vif ne me rendaient que plus hideux, je trouvais, mais même ça n’était pas aussi mauvais que les ongles des doigts et des orteils faits par un professionnel. Rose vif et fluorescent, avec une seule lettre sur chaque doigt épelant « esclave de culotte ». Je pouvais cacher le tatouage avec des vêtements ; je pouvais enlever le maquillage ; mais si jamais je sortais en public – ce n’était pas encore arrivé, mais cela arriverait bientôt – tout le monde pourrait voir mes ongles.

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Sissy Beau-père Fourni par : BDSM Library http://www.bdsmlibrary.com

Synopsis : L'histoire d'un homme qui devient l'esclave efféminé de sa belle-fille, et comment il en est arrivé là

Beau-père efféminé

Chapitre I

« Papaa ...

Merde. Comme si devoir nettoyer la maison tout en portant une culotte en dentelle rouge et un soutien-gorge avec des talons aiguilles de quinze centimètres et un plug anal enfoncé dans mon cul n'était pas assez pénible. Je savais qu'elle était dans sa chambre avec un garçon, et je savais aussi exactement en quoi consistait le « travail de nettoyage ». Comme toutes les autres fois. Elle venait de se faire baiser, et j'allais lécher le sperme de sa chatte, puis sucer la bite de son amant pour la nettoyer. Si j'avais de la chance, c'est tout ce que je finirais par faire. Putain. Encore. Je descendis du marchepied et posai le plumeau que j'avais utilisé pour nettoyer le haut des rebords de fenêtre.

Je montai péniblement les escaliers recouverts de moquette, vacillant précairement sur mes talons ridicules. Aussi humiliante que soit ma situation, je pouvais sentir ma bite imberbe se tendre dans les limites du minuscule boîtier en plastique dur verrouillé autour d'elle. Peut-être, pensais-je, qu'elle pourrait l'ouvrir pendant quelques instants et me permettre de me branler, si je lui plaisais. Du moins, je l'espérais. Probablement pas, cependant, car elle n'était pas vraiment ravie de trouver une barbe de trois jours autour de mes bras anaux lors de l'inspection de ce matin. Je pouvais encore sentir la brûlure sur mes fesses causée par les coups qu'elle m'avait donnés avec ma propre ceinture, alors que je me tenais penché en avant, les jambes écartées, mes lèvres sur le rebord intérieur du siège des toilettes. Elle a insisté pour que je reste imberbe, à l'exception de mon cuir chevelu, de mes sourcils et de mes cils. En entrant dans sa chambre, je me suis arrêté sur le pas de la porte et j'ai fait une révérence, grimaçant lorsque la cage à bite a frappé ma cuisse. Puis, m'agenouillant, je me suis adressé à elle.

« Oui, mademoiselle ? » dis-je, les yeux fixés sur le sol, soumis. « Comment votre esclave sissy peut-il vous servir ? » récitai-je, connaissant déjà la réponse. Ma belle-fille métisse – le produit d’un père afro-américain et d’une mère asiatique – désigna le désordre crémeux qui recouvrait ses poils pubiens noirs et bouclés et me fit signe d’approcher avec un doigt parfaitement manucuré. Je savais qu’il ne fallait pas hésiter et je m’agenouillai immédiatement au pied de son lit, baissant la tête entre ses cuisses musclées. Parfois, elle voulait que je travaille de l’extérieur vers l’intérieur, en tournant autour et en léchant ses cuisses et son ventre pour me diriger vers sa chatte remplie de sperme. Cette fois, elle saisit simplement une poignée de mes longs cheveux récemment défrisés et glacés – je n’avais pas été autorisé à me faire couper les cheveux depuis qu’elle avait commencé à me dominer – et enfonça mon visage avec force dans le désordre de sperme coagulé de son pubis.

Son dernier petit ami le regardait avec amusement. Il ne devait pas avoir plus de seize ans, jeune et musclé, comme tous les autres. Tant d'autres. La seule vraie différence était que celui-ci était blond ; les rendez-vous de Stéphanie avaient tendance à être noirs ou hispaniques ces derniers temps. Il était nu, le sperme luisant sur sa bite encore turgescente. 23 ou 25 centimètres, estimai-je rapidement. Je doutais de pouvoir tout prendre dans ma bouche. Je n'avais pas encore appris à faire une gorge profonde, même après six mois d'humiliation aux mains de ma belle-fille et de ses prétendants. Il était probablement inexpérimenté aussi, donc il pourrait jouir rapidement si je devais le sucer.

« Est-ce que ta salope est bonne ? » demanda-t-il, prenant un moment pour effleurer du doigt la cage entourant ma bite, ce qui me fit tressaillir. « Très mignonne, au fait, » rit-il. « Je pense que ce look lui va bien. » À part ma tête, j’étais complètement, définitivement sans poils. Elle a dit que cela faciliterait les tatouages ​​qu’elle avait prévus ; jusqu’à présent, il n’y en avait qu’un – le mot « pute de sissy » en lettres minuscules sur ma fesse gauche. Un mascara épais et un rouge à lèvres rouge vif ne me rendaient que plus hideux, je trouvais, mais même ça n’était pas aussi mauvais que les ongles des doigts et des orteils faits par un professionnel. Rose vif et fluorescent, avec une seule lettre sur chaque doigt épelant « esclave de culotte ». Je pouvais cacher le tatouage avec des vêtements ; je pouvais enlever le maquillage ; mais si jamais je sortais en public – ce n’était pas encore arrivé, mais cela arriverait bientôt – tout le monde pourrait voir mes ongles.

« Elle est juste. On m'a dit qu'elle était meilleure suceuse de bites que lécheuse de chattes, mais c'est probablement parce qu'elle est une pédé latent, tu sais », répondit-elle en poussant ma tête plus bas, vers ses cuisses, me forçant à laper les fluides qui y avaient coulé. Elle parlait de moi comme si je n'étais même pas un homme. Dans un sens, je suppose qu'elle avait raison. Cela faisait si longtemps que je ne m'étais pas senti comme tel, que cela n'avait plus vraiment d'importance. Tout ce que j'étais maintenant, c'était ce que ma belle-fille voulait que je sois.

« Elle s’améliore, mais elle fait encore des erreurs », a-t-elle poursuivi. « Le week-end dernier, par exemple, elle s’est endormie alors que je lui demandais de s’occuper de quelques-uns de mes amis. J’ai dû la punir pour m’avoir embarrassée. »

Quelques amis, bon sang, me dis-je, sans perdre une seconde avec ma langue. Vingt-six couples, et avant même d'arriver à la première femme, je devais prendre chacun des hommes dans mon cul ou les sucer. Certains voulaient les deux ; le cul d'abord, bien sûr. Merde. Bien sûr que j'étais fatigué. J'avais sucé et baisé pendant plus de six heures avant que mon visage couvert de sperme ne soit enfoncé dans cette première chatte moite, puante et poilue. Ma langue a lâché sur la huitième chatte. Mes lèvres et ma langue étaient alors si gonflées que je ne pouvais presque rien faire avec elles. Mais cela n'avait pas d'importance pour Maîtresse. Elle m'a battu jusqu'au sang, puis m'a quand même fait lécher le reste des femmes jusqu'à ce qu'elles jouissent sur mon visage. Les marques n'étaient toujours pas cicatrisées.

« On dirait que ta poule a une érection, ma puce », dit-il. « Mais tu ne le remarqueras pas vraiment, hein ? Dis-moi, salope, est-ce que ça devient plus gros ? »

« Monsieur, » dis-je en récitant les mots humiliants que Stéphanie avait gravés dans mon cerveau, « le petit zizi inutile de la salope en culotte ne dépasse jamais dix centimètres, contrairement à votre belle bite, monsieur. Monsieur, puis-je sucer votre bite, s'il vous plaît ? J'adore avoir une longue bite dure dans ma bouche, » récitai-je avec un faux ton d'excitation dans la voix. Ce n'étaient que des mensonges, bien sûr ; je n'étais pas exactement bien doté, mais quand j'étais dur, je faisais vingt centimètres de long, et sucer une bite était loin d'être ce que je voulais vraiment faire, jamais. Je détestais l'humiliation d'être forcé de sucer une bite encore plus que de lécher le sperme frais de la chatte de ma belle-fille, mais je savais par expérience ce que Maîtresse Stéphanie pouvait me faire si jamais je désobéissais.

« Ça suffit, salope », dit-elle soudainement, me poussant brutalement hors du lit avec un pied recouvert d'un bas. « Va nettoyer la bite de Bobby. Il va être en retard pour le cours si tu ne te dépêches pas, et s'il EST en retard, je vais le laisser s'en prendre à toi ! »

Je rampai sur le sol recouvert de moquette jusqu'au jeune adolescent et m'agenouillai à ses pieds. Gardant mes mains à mes côtés, je pris sa bite pendante dans ma bouche, en faisant attention de ne pas la toucher avec mes dents. Je savais que Maîtresse lui demanderait s'il sentait mes dents, et s'il disait oui, je serais à nouveau battu. Je pouvais sentir le goût de la chatte de Maîtresse sur sa bite alors qu'elle commençait à durcir dans ma bouche. Merde. C'était la dernière chose que je voulais. Maintenant, j'allais probablement devoir le sucer aussi. J'avais tort, mais ça n'arrangeait pas les choses. Elles ont rapidement empiré pour moi.

« Ne jouis pas dans la bouche de papa, mon amour », dit-elle en se mettant à quatre pattes. « Une fois qu'elle t'aura rendu dur, monte ici et enfonce ton magnifique outil dans mon cul. Elle n'a jamais sucé de sperme de mon trou du cul auparavant, et je veux que cette salope y goûte tout de suite. »

« En fait, dit-il avec un sourire moqueur, je n'ai jamais baisé une pédé avant. Et si je prenais juste la salope dans le cul ? Toi et moi, on pourra toujours baiser plus tard. »

« Tu sais, je pense qu'elle aimerait vraiment ça. Oui, je pense », a-t-elle commenté, puis elle s'est tournée vers moi. « Viens ici, salope, et fais travailler ta langue dégueulasse. Nettoie bien mon trou du cul. »

Putain, pensai-je en me levant de ma position au pied du lit, que pourrait-il se passer d'autre ? Alors que je baissais mon visage vers ses fesses, je sentis des mains fortes sur mes fesses, écartant douloureusement mes fesses.

« Elle a vraiment un joli cul », a-t-il commenté avec désinvolture, en enfonçant son pouce dans mes fesses. « J'aime la façon dont tu l'as marquée. Ça te dérange si je fais la même chose quand j'aurai fini ? »

« N'hésite pas, répondit-elle. Il y a une sélection de fouets dans sa chambre. Oh, et elle apprécie vraiment le goût d'une bite couverte de merde aussi, donc tu n'auras pas à te soucier de te nettoyer après. Laisse juste la salope s'en occuper. »

Alors qu'il me pénétrait lentement, je ne pouvais que grimacer, sachant que même un gémissement discret entraînerait une raclée. Ce n'était pas comme si je n'avais jamais pris une bite dans le cul auparavant, mais jamais auparavant sans lubrification. Alors que la douleur familière commençait à me remonter le long de la colonne vertébrale, j'entendis le clic d'un appareil photo et la voix de Stéphanie.

« Tu sais, il n'a que quatorze ans. Il sera dans ta classe au prochain semestre aussi. »

« C'est vrai, professeur ! » dit-il en s'enfonçant profondément dans mes entrailles. « Vous avez quatre ans pour vous assurer que je sois major de ma promotion ! »

J'étais à la tête du département des sciences sociales du lycée. J'étais tellement défoncé !

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Je suppose que c'était mon destin. J'ai toujours été une mauviette. Je n'étais pas une poule mouillée avant le lycée. Bien sûr, j'ai toujours été un solitaire qui ne se défendait jamais, mais ce n'est qu'en deuxième année que les choses ont changé pour le pire. Ou pour le meilleur, selon le point de vue. Même 20 ans plus tard, je n'ai toujours pas décidé sur ce point, mais je me souviens encore du jour où tout a commencé.

J'avais seize ans et j'étais en proie à une crise hormonale typique des adolescents. J'enviais les stars du football et les autres qui portaient toujours une jolie jupe courte après l'autre accrochée à leur bras. Je savais que c'était interdit aux filles comme moi, mais cela ne m'empêchait pas de les désirer. Ou de les toucher, quand l'occasion se présentait.

Vous voyez, l’école où j’allais était surpeuplée de moitié, ce qui signifiait que les couloirs étaient pratiquement toujours bondés entre les cours. Cela signifiait aussi que les enfants « invisibles » comme moi pouvaient vivre dans un anonymat relatif. Cela signifiait aussi qu’il n’était pas rare que des corps soient pressés contre d’autres corps, alors j’essayais de cogner discrètement mon aine contre les fesses d’une fille, ou de presser mon bras contre ses seins, parfois même de la toucher pour de vrai. De temps en temps, je donnais un petit coup sur l’ourlet d’une mini-jupe, ou même de frotter la paume de ma main contre une cuisse lisse comme du satin. Un matin, je suis allé encore plus loin. La fille que j’avais ciblée était une fille que je convoitais depuis près de deux ans. Je ne connaissais même pas son nom, mais elle avait de longs cheveux blonds et des jambes qui semblaient s’étirer à l’infini. Nous marchions l’un vers l’autre dans le couloir bondé, quand j’ai rapidement glissé ma main entre ses cuisses, l’ai mise en coupe et l’ai enfoncée dans sa chatte, et me suis tout aussi rapidement éloigné en passant derrière elle. Tout cela n’a pris qu’une fraction de seconde, et j’étais parti. Je n’ai même pas regardé en arrière, comme si j’étais inconscient de ce qui venait de se passer. J’étais probablement à un mètre cinquante avant qu’elle ne lâche enfin un grand halètement, presque comme un cri perçant. Je savais que j’étais en sécurité, cependant, alors que je m’éloignais dans la foule épaule contre épaule. Elle n’avait aucun moyen d’identifier la personne qui l’avait pelotée.

J'ai eu tort.

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Beau-père efféminé

Chapitre II

Comme d'habitude, j'ai dû m'absenter du cours pour aller me masturber dans la chambre des garçons après l'incident. J'en ai profité pour renifler mon pouce, la partie de mon corps qui se rapprochait le plus de cette chose merveilleuse que je désirais tant. Je n'en étais pas sûr, mais j'imaginais la douce odeur de son corps, ou peut-être le parfum qu'elle utilisait. Tout ce que je sais, c'est que j'ai éjaculé à ce moment-là ma plus grosse éjaculation de ma vie ; c'était comme si je n'avais pas joui depuis une semaine, même si cela ne faisait en réalité que quelques heures.

Rien ne s’est passé ce jour-là ni le lendemain, alors j’ai supposé que j’étais tranquille. J’ai même recommencé à frôler intentionnellement des filles dans le couloir, faisant glisser ma paume sur un cul ou une jambe particulièrement mignons à l’occasion. À ma connaissance, aucune de mes victimes n’a même remarqué qu’elles étaient violées. Je pense que j’ai établi un record de branlette ce jour-là, au moins cinq fois pendant la journée d’école, si je me souviens bien. Je me souviens que je me suis masturbé, mais pas au point d’atteindre l’orgasme, après la gym – mon dernier cours de la journée – parce que je voulais rentrer à la maison. J’ai toujours aimé m’étendre sur mon lit, me branler sur des magazines porno et regarder mon sperme gicler dans les airs avant d’atterrir sur ma poitrine et mon ventre. Je savais qu’en me taquinant après la gym, mon orgasme serait d’autant plus puissant. Je savais aussi qu’en me cachant dans les toilettes, tout le monde serait parti au moment où je m’habillerais. Comme c’était vendredi, je ramènerais mes vêtements de sport à la maison et je pourrais cacher mon short de jockey à l’intérieur. Se promener sans sous-vêtements m’a toujours rendu encore plus excité. Aujourd'hui, j'ai décidé de faire la même chose avec mon t-shirt et mes chaussettes.

Je venais de sortir du vestiaire des garçons quand c'est arrivé. Les deux vestiaires étaient adjacents, avec des murs en forme de L empêchant les regards indiscrets de voir à l'intérieur lorsque les portes étaient ouvertes. Bien sûr, cela bloquait également la vue de l'extérieur à quiconque sortait de l'une ou l'autre des portes. Juste au moment où je passais le bout du mur, mes épaules ont été saisies par derrière, des mains serrant mes bras contre mon corps. Un sac d'une sorte ou d'une autre a été placé sur ma tête, et j'ai été traîné en arrière à travers le devant du bâtiment. Comme les deux murs en forme de L s'ouvraient aux extrémités opposées, j'ai pu dire lorsque nous avons fait demi-tour brusquement que j'étais tiré dans le vestiaire des filles. Mon jean a été dégrafé et tiré jusqu'à mes chevilles, puis j'ai été forcé à genoux. Une paire de bras puissants poussant vers le bas sur mes épaules m'a maintenu en place alors que ma tête était découverte.

« Salut, pédé. Tu te souviens de moi ? » Je clignai des yeux, levant les yeux vers le visage en colère de ma déesse, la fille que j'avais effrontément touchée un peu plus de 24 heures auparavant. Alors que je commençais à baisser la tête, un flash lumineux éclata. Je me retournai et vis une autre fille avec un appareil photo, souriante. Je venais d'être photographié, à genoux, le pantalon baissé, sur le sol du casier des filles, aux pieds de la plus belle fille de l'école. Alors que je pensais à la position dans laquelle je me trouvais, ma bite commença à durcir.

« Regardez-moi ça, les filles ! Il aime ça ! Le petit pédé aime être à genoux aux pieds de ses supérieurs ! » rigola-t-elle. « Dommage que son petit zizi ne puisse pas se comparer à la belle bite de mon copain, mais je dois admettre qu'il est mignon. Comme celui de mon petit frère, quand il avait environ trois ans. »

Je rougis sous les insultes, sachant qu'elle avait au moins partiellement raison. Être à genoux ici comme ça m'excitait. L'idée d'être forcée de faire ce qu'ils me demandaient, d'être humiliée, m'excitait. Je baissai à nouveau la tête et pus voir que j'étais maintenant dure comme du roc, une goutte de liquide pré-éjaculatoire se formant.

« Lève-toi, pédé ! » hurla-t-elle. Les mains furent retirées de mes épaules et je me levai rapidement, la tête baissée, soumise. « Déshabille-le », dit-elle d’un ton calme et pragmatique à ses conspirateurs. Mon t-shirt et mes chaussures furent rapidement retirés, me laissant nu devant eux. Ma Déesse se dirigea vers l’autre côté du vestiaire, vers les toilettes, puis m’appela.

« Mets-toi à plat ventre, ver, et rampe jusqu'à mes pieds ! » ordonna-t-elle. Je sentis mes couilles se contracter comme si j'étais sur le point de jouir. Je tombai par terre et me glissai vers elle aussi vite que possible, ma bite frottant douloureusement contre le sol en béton froid. Je remarquai à peine que d'autres photos étaient prises.

Ma déesse était assise sur les toilettes, entièrement habillée, lorsque je me suis arrêté à ses pieds. Je priais pour que les abus continuent, tout en espérant qu'ils cesseraient bientôt.

« J’ai besoin d’un massage des pieds, pédé. Enlève mes chaussures et mes chaussettes… sans utiliser tes mains. »

J'ai hésité un instant avant de tendre prudemment la main vers l'avant, de prendre le lacet de sa petite basket dans ma bouche et de tirer doucement dessus. Il s'est défait sans effort. Cependant, je ne savais pas comment retirer la chaussure de son pied. Elle a résolu mon dilemme en soulevant légèrement son pied de sorte que l'arrière de sa cheville soit à mon visage. Prenant le talon dans ma bouche, j'ai tiré délicatement l'arrière vers le bas jusqu'à ce qu'il soit retiré, la chaussure pendait de ses délicats orteils recouverts de chaussettes. Son avertissement de ne pas laisser de traces de dents m'a fait couvrir mes dents avec mes lèvres avant de prendre soigneusement l'orteil dans ma bouche, retirant sa chaussure jusqu'au bout. Pendant tout ce temps, les flashs et les bruits de l'obturateur de l'appareil photo me rappelaient constamment que cet acte humiliant était enregistré pour la postérité.

Après avoir enlevé la deuxième chaussure, je me suis attaqué à ses chaussettes de sport blanches montant jusqu'à la cheville. C'était plus facile, car tout ce que j'avais à faire était de saisir le haut entre mes dents et de les enrouler vers le bas. Cependant, tout à la fin, elle a recroquevillé ses orteils, ce qui m'a obligé à les retirer par l'avant. Heureusement, ses chaussettes étaient propres, même si elles étaient humides de transpiration. Je pouvais sentir le goût de la sueur de ses pieds ; ce n'était pas si dégoûtant, et pas aussi terrible que je l'avais imaginé.

« Tu peux me laver les pieds maintenant », m’a-t-elle ordonné, en glissant tout le devant de son pied dans ma bouche dès que je l’ai ouverte. « Passe ta langue sur tous les orteils », m’a-t-elle ordonné, « et assure-toi de passer aussi entre eux. »

J'ai travaillé sur ses pieds si sexy pendant une vingtaine de minutes, les baignant de ma langue, suçant chaque petit orteil délicat dans ma bouche, jusqu'à ce qu'elle soit satisfaite. Quand elle en a eu assez, elle a simplement utilisé la plante de son pied contre ma bouche et m'a poussé en arrière, me faisant tomber en arrière.

« Je vais me préparer pour mon rendez-vous maintenant », prononça-t-elle. « Je suis tellement excitée que je vais peut-être laisser Jason me baiser ce soir. Quant à toi, ver, je ne veux plus jamais entendre que tu as touché une autre fille sans sa permission. Et ne pense pas non plus que ta punition soit terminée. Lundi après l'école, je veux que tu attendes devant le vestiaire des filles, à genoux, ne portant rien d'autre que ton short de sport. Si tu n'es pas là... combien de photos avons-nous ? » demanda-t-elle en regardant son amie photographe.

« Deux rouleaux, donc 72. Je les ferai développer ce soir aussi. »

« Fais des copies pour qu'on en ait assez pour les afficher sur les panneaux d'affichage et peut-être les envoyer à ses parents s'il décide de ne pas jouer. Tu comprends ce qui se passera si tu n'es pas là, pédé ? » dit-elle en tournant son attention vers moi. J'ai hoché la tête.

« Je n'entends pas les pierres claquer dans ton crâne vide, ver de terre ! Réponds-moi, tu comprends ? »

« Oui », répondis-je.

« Oui, madame », corrigea-t-elle.

« Oui, madame », ai-je récité.

« À partir de maintenant, toutes les filles de l'équipe de cheerleading sont « Madame » pour toi, compris, petit ver ? Et toutes les autres filles sont « Mademoiselle ». »

« Oui, madame, je comprends. »

« Bien, alors. À lundi ! » En riant, elle tourna les talons et sortit, sa troupe de partisans sur ses talons.

Je mis quelques minutes à me ressaisir. Mes vêtements de ville avaient disparu ; les filles devaient les avoir pris en partant, pensai-je. Je cherchai mon maillot de sport, mais je ne trouvai que mon short. Je l’enfilai et me glissai rapidement par la porte arrière, tandis que j’entendais le concierge arriver par devant pour faire le ménage. Je pensai à prendre mes chaussures de sport dans mon casier, mais le vestiaire des garçons était déjà fermé à clé. Presque nu et pieds nus, je courus pratiquement tout le chemin du retour – deux kilomètres et demi – et en arrivant, je m’enfermai dans ma chambre, laissai tomber le maillot par terre et commençai à me branler frénétiquement tout en visualisant ce qui s’était passé dans le vestiaire des filles. Comme d’habitude, j’étais allongé sur le dos sur mon lit, et le sperme gicla si haut et avec une telle force qu’une partie atterrit sur mon menton et mon nez. Je n’étais pas dégoûté, cependant ; J'ai tendu la langue et goûté mon propre sperme pour la première fois, léchant ce qui coulait sur mes lèvres, puis frottant le reste sur mon visage et ma poitrine. Ma propre « punition », ai-je décidé, était de passer le reste de la journée couverte de mon propre sperme.

Comme prévu, j'ai passé la majeure partie du week-end à me déhancher dès que je le pouvais. Comme les filles avaient tout pris sauf mon short de sport, j'ai dû aller au grand magasin le samedi et acheter un nouveau t-shirt de sport et un suspensoir. À mon grand désespoir, l'une des filles qui avait été témoin de mon humiliation le vendredi travaillait là-bas le week-end.

« Tu es sûre que tu as besoin d'une taille L ? » gloussa-t-elle en tenant le suspensoir. « Je crois me rappeler que tu étais plutôt du S, ou peut-être du M tout au plus ! »

Je ne me souviens plus de ce que j'ai répondu, mais j'ai rapidement remis mon argent.

« Merci de me laisser garder la monnaie », dit-elle. « Peut-être que je vais acheter une belle paire de chaussettes en dentelle pour quand tu me donneras un bain de pieds. »

Bien sûr, je n'avais aucune intention de lui rendre la monnaie, mais quel choix avais-je ? Je me suis juste mis à rougir, j'ai pris mon sac et je suis rapidement sorti du magasin. Sans surprise, j'ai découvert que j'avais une érection violente une fois dehors.

Le week-end s'est enfin terminé et je ne savais pas si j'appréhendais lundi ou si j'avais hâte d'y être. Mais au final, cela n'avait pas vraiment d'importance. Je savais – et les filles aussi – que je ferais ce qu'on me dirait.

Ce jour-là, l'école s'est déroulée sans incident, à part le fait que j'ai dû me branler trois ou quatre fois, dont une fois juste avant le cours de sport. Je ne me présenterais pas au vestiaire avec une érection, les garçons pourraient penser que je suis vraiment pédé.

Il n’était pas rare que je sois le dernier à sortir des vestiaires. Après m’être habillé, je me dirigeai vers les toilettes et attendis que tout le monde soit parti. Je retournai ensuite à mon casier, me déshabillai et enfilai mon short de sport. Je pouvais déjà voir le contour de ma bite durcir à travers le tissu. Ne voulant pas prendre le risque que le vestiaire soit fermé à clé lorsque les filles en auraient fini avec moi, je jetai mes vêtements de ville dans un sac en plastique que j’avais apporté à cet effet. Il y avait quelques buissons de genévriers bas devant la porte arrière, et je fourrai le sac derrière eux. Si le pire devait arriver, je pourrais toujours me cacher derrière les buissons et remettre mes vêtements. Finalement, je pris une profonde inspiration et me dirigeai vers le vestiaire des filles, m’agenouillant juste devant la porte, priant silencieusement pour que personne ne me voie là-bas.

Je n'ai pas eu à attendre longtemps. La porte s'est ouverte quelques secondes plus tard ; quelqu'un devait m'observer.

« Ramène ton cul ici, vermine ! » ordonna ma déesse. Je ne savais pas si je devais me lever ou non, alors je restai à genoux et rampai derrière elle.

« Aujourd'hui, ta punition continue », annonça-t-elle. « Mais d'abord, il faut savoir ce qu'il en est de la vérité ou des conséquences. J'ai fait courir le bruit qu'un pervers avait tripoté des filles dans le couloir, et je voulais savoir combien de fois il avait violé quelqu'un. Maintenant, je vais te poser une question similaire, et si le nombre est inférieur à celui que j'ai calculé, ta punition sera doublée. Alors dis-moi, combien de filles as-tu tripotées ? »

« Euh… Madame… pourriez-vous s’il vous plaît me définir ce terme ? » demandai-je, le visage rouge.

« Tâtonné. Touché sans permission. Soulevé la jupe. Mutilé intentionnellement en faisant semblant de trébucher. Combien de filles as-tu touchées sans leur permission ? »

« Euh… je ne suis pas sûr, madame, » balbutiai-je.

« D’accord, tu l’as fait tous les jours ? Une fois par semaine ? Peux-tu l’estimer ? »

« Euh… probablement deux fois par semaine, parfois tous les jours, Madame. Parfois plus d’une fois par jour, Madame. » Les filles étaient en cercle autour de moi, toutes vêtues de leurs tenues de pom-pom girls.

« Alors donne-moi une estimation, ver de terre ! » demanda-t-elle.

« Euh… peut-être une centaine, madame. »

« Alors, cent coups. Mets-toi face contre terre sur le banc, le cul en l’air, et enlève ton short », m’a-t-elle ordonné. J’ai levé les yeux, presque horrifié, tandis qu’elle prenait ma propre ceinture – celle de mon pantalon de vendredi – et la repliait sur elle-même dans ma main. « Tu vas compter chacun d’entre eux », m’a-t-elle dit, « en me remerciant et en me disant que tu es désolé pour ton comportement à chaque coup. Un coup pour chaque femme que tu as osé toucher. Si tu perds le compte, nous devrons tout recommencer. »

Elle était sérieuse, je le voyais. Les larmes ont commencé à se former dans mes yeux avant même que j'aie enlevé mon short.

« Arrête de te comporter comme une poule mouillée », se plaignit-elle. « Prends ta punition comme un homme, si c'est ce que tu es ! »

Le premier coup est arrivé, et même si je m'attendais à ce que ça fasse mal, je ne m'attendais pas à ce que ce soit aussi douloureux. J'ai crié très fort, incapable de me rappeler ce que j'étais censé dire.

« Quelqu’un va entendre », dit l’une des autres filles.

« Alors bâillonne-le, comme nous en avons discuté », répondit ma déesse. « Nous avons gardé ton caleçon juste pour aujourd'hui », me dit-elle. « Dommage pour la bande de course que tu as laissée derrière toi. Peut-être que la prochaine fois tu penseras à mieux t'essuyer le cul. »

Quelqu'un a appuyé sur l'angle de ma mâchoire avec ses pouces, forçant ma bouche à s'ouvrir tandis qu'un autre enfonçait mon propre short sale et froissé dans ma bouche. Une bande de ruban adhésif a été collée sur mon visage, le maintenant en place.

« Bien sûr, tu ne pourras plus me remercier ni me dire à quel point tu es désolé, mais je m'attends à ce que tu compte avec tes doigts. Tu as compris ? » J'ai hoché la tête en pleurant. « Maintenant, puisque tu as eu l'occasion de compter le premier, mais que tu ne l'as pas fait, il ne compte pas. Cela signifie que nous devons recommencer. »

Whap ! La douleur m'envahit alors que je levais un doigt. Whap ! Un autre coup, exactement au même endroit. Un deuxième doigt levé. Whap ! Une troisième fois, celui-ci en biais sur les deux autres. Trois doigts. Quatre. Cinq. Six. Finalement, à vingt ans, elle s'arrêta.

« Mon bras commence à fatiguer. J'ai besoin de repos », dit-elle, « et je crois que Julie a dit qu'elle avait besoin de se laver les pieds. Sors ton bâillon, ver de terre, et va supplier Julie de te laisser lui lécher les pieds ! »

Je suis tombé du banc en bois dur et je me suis effondré sur le ventre sur le sol, comme le ver pathétique que j'étais, jusqu'aux toilettes où mon dernier agresseur m'attendait.

« S'il vous plaît, Madame, puis-je avoir l'honneur de laver vos beaux pieds ? »

« Je ne pense pas qu'il ait l'air assez sincère, et vous ? » dit-elle aux filles qui riaient autour d'elle et la regardaient.

Tac ! La ceinture a atterri sur mes fesses une fois de plus, me faisant sursauter.

« Regarde-la quand tu la supplie, pédé, et cette fois fais-lui croire que tu le veux ! »

« Madame, s'il vous plaît… je vous prie de me permettre de rendre hommage à vos beaux et charmants pieds, Madame ! » m'écriai-je. « Je sais que mes talents sont pathétiques, mais apprenez-moi à servir votre beauté, Madame. Ma bouche est indigne de toucher votre corps, mais accordez-moi le privilège d'embrasser vos magnifiques pieds, de téter vos petits et beaux orteils, Madame ! »

« Bon, je ne sais toujours pas, mais d'accord. Tu peux commencer par m'enlever mes chaussures et mes chaussettes, mais n'ose pas toucher mes pieds avec ta sale bouche ! »

« Oui, Madame », dis-je en me penchant en avant pour défaire ses lacets. La technique d’hier avait plutôt bien fonctionné, donc je n’avais pas à réfléchir à la façon d’accomplir ma tâche aujourd’hui. La seule partie difficile était de m’assurer de ne pas toucher ses pieds. Ma bouche a dû effleurer sa cheville alors que j’attrapais sa chaussette blanche en sueur, mais j’ai réussi à retirer complètement les deux sans la violer. Une fois ce travail terminé, je me suis simplement allongé sur le ventre, mon visage à moins de deux centimètres, inhalant le doux parfum de ses pieds. Je pouvais sentir ma bite durcir sous moi.

« Roule-toi, ver ! » m’a-t-elle ordonné, me sortant de ma rêverie. « Allonge-toi sur le dos, les jambes écartées et rapproche-toi pour que tes pieds soient contre le mur. »

J'ai fait ce qu'on m'a dit, ce qui a eu pour résultat que mon entrejambe se trouvait à environ 30 centimètres de la base des toilettes. Ma bite était dressée en l'air, la tête déjà couverte de pré-sperme. Avant que je puisse réagir, elle a placé ses pieds sur mon aine, les plantes de pieds collées contre mon érection.

« Je me suis toujours demandé si je pouvais faire jouir un mec avec mes pieds », commenta-t-elle en caressant doucement mon membre. Il ne fallut que deux coups avant que le sperme ne jaillisse dans les airs, atterrissant sur mon ventre et ses pieds. Elle remua ses orteils, laissant le sperme couler entre ses orteils, les frottant sur les flaques d'éjaculat sur mon torse imberbe.

« Ok, maintenant tu peux me nettoyer les pieds », annonça-t-elle en me tapotant les testicules avec son talon, pas très doucement. Je me retournai rapidement et commençai ma tâche humiliante, pleinement consciente que non seulement des photos, mais aussi une vidéo étaient prises.

Comme je l'avais découvert hier, le goût du sperme était sucré-salé, pas du tout dégoûtant comme je l'avais imaginé. Mais c'était l'humiliation que cela impliquait que j'avais vraiment envie de ressentir. Être obligé de lécher mon propre sperme sur les pieds d'une belle fille pendant que tout était filmé ? Oh, mon Dieu, c'était au-delà de mes rêves sexuels les plus fous que cela puisse arriver dans la vraie vie. Je me suis rapidement acquitté de ma tâche, en prenant soin de lécher doucement entre chaque orteil délicat, en m'assurant qu'ils étaient complètement propres et secs.

« Tu es désormais notre petit jouet, notre esclave. Tu le sais, n'est-ce pas ? » demanda ma déesse lorsque j'eus fini.

« Oui, Madame », répondis-je. La caméra était braquée sur moi, agenouillée, enregistrant ma réponse pour la postérité.

« Tu as encore une punition à venir. Quatre-vingts, je crois ? »

« Oui, Madame, quatre-vingts », confirmai-je, les larmes aux yeux.

“We’ve decided to give you an opportunity to work those last eighty off, worm. Tomorrow morning, you’re to provide me with a list of alternative punishments, things you find as bad as eighty of my best. If I don’t like the list, or if I think the punishments are too lenient, you’ll get them plus the eighty. Understand, worm?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good. Okay, we’re through for the day,” she said, once again turning heel and walking out, her troupe following close behind.

I laid on the floor for a few minutes, trying to catch my breath, until I heard the sound of the janitor’s cart rolling in the front door. I scrambled for my shorts, but not finding them, scooted out the back door, naked. It was still broad daylight, but I was fortunate enough to peek around the privacy wall and discovered nobody in the immediate area. I sprinted on all fours to where I’d hidden my street clothes, quickly pulled them on, and slowly walked home, my mind going over possible punishments. I knew whatever I came up with needed to be humiliating and disgusting, if not as painful as 80 lashes with a belt. My ass still burned from the 20 I’d received earlier, and I knew there would be welts visible tomorrow.

Sissy Stepdad

Chapter III

By the time I got home, I had a raging hard-on. Normally, I would have taken care of that issue as soon as I could, but decided that remaining “in need” would be a self-imposed punishment. Nobody was home when I got there. Dad would be at work until later in the evening, and Mom and my younger sister were at some ballet recital or something, so I immediately locked myself in my room, stripped naked, and sat at my desk to work on my punishment list. I imagined my Goddess was standing there, glowering, watching over me to make sure I didn’t relieve my obvious need. Pre-cum seeped out of my cock head, dripping onto the fabric of my chair, leaving stains that would remain there for years, causing me to remember day every time I looked at them.

I knew everything on my list had to be right on the cusp, riding that thin line between relatively extreme and impossible. I couldn’t, for example, get a bare-butt spanking in the middle of the quad at lunchtime. Writing the list was going to be difficult, but the embarrassing part was going to be tomorrow, when the girls read and shared it with each other. This, too, I understood, would be part of my punishment. So, I began writing, hoping they would do everything on the list, and at the same time, praying they wouldn’t. My first intention was to come up with a list of 100 punishments – one for every girl I claimed to have violated – but I soon ran out of what I considered reasonable ideas. Looking at my list, I discovered I only had about thirty, and some of those were pretty weak. I ended up refining what I had, combining some of the punishments and expanding on others, until I had what I believed were 24 humiliating, feasible punishments. Three per cheerleader, I hoped, would suffice.

Just as I finished my list, I heard the front door open. Mom and my eleven year old sister, Beth, were home. I quickly folded the paper up and stuck it in my binder, threw my jeans and shirt on, and went out to greet them. I couldn’t waste time with underwear, and knew that my erection would be obvious if either of them bothered to look. Beth did, smiling knowingly at me. As she went into her room, she flipped up the hem of her ballet tutu, flashing me with white tights that clearly showed the outline of her little quim. I don’t know whether or not it was my imagination, but I could have sworn I saw a tiny wet spot.

Except for dinner, I continued my self-imposed banishment, claiming I had homework to do. Once again, I imagined being in the presence of my Goddess, kneeling naked on the floor before her, begging forgiveness. I vividly remembered being gagged with my own soiled shorts, praying next time it would be recently worn panties, or a damp pair of sweaty socks that I’d pulled off one of them before paying homage to those delicate, pungent feet. Pre-cum continued to drip from my cock; at my imaginary abuser’s command, I dropped to my belly and licked the wetness from the floor. While doing so, I raised my ass high in the air, offering it up for an imaginary beating.

Carefully checking the floor and discovering it was clean, I rose to my feet and stood before the mirror on my closet door, inspecting my own body in a manner I’d never done before. Standing with my legs spread and my hands clasped behind my neck, I saw a geeky, skinny boy before me, his cock bouncing ridiculously with every breath he took. Flexing his arms, I almost laughed out loud at the sight. There were no biceps to speak of, just flatness; his upper arms barely larger than his wrists. He was so skinny that his ribs were visible, the tiny patch of soft, downy hair on his pubes almost humorous to see. Turning slowly around and looking over my shoulder, I could see the angry red stripes on his ass from the day’s earlier punishment. Facing the mirror once more, I dropped to my knees again. I wasn’t worthy of standing erect even before my own reflected image. I shifted on my knees, moving closer to the mirror, leaning down and trying to kiss the reflection of my own cock, leaving a vivid imprint of my lips on the glass.

I decided to forgo dinner that evening – another part of my self-imposed punishment, I suppose – telling my parents that I wasn’t particularly hungry. This was far from the truth, as I’d skipped lunch as well. My stomach was growling incessantly, but I would continue my fast until breakfast.

While the rest of my family enjoyed their dinner and an evening of television afterwards, I remained kneeling on the bare hardwood floor of my room, my robe handy in case there should be an unexpected knock. Being naked and on my knees wasn’t enough, however. Crawling into my closet, I found a wide, white leather belt and wrapped it around my neck, creating a makeshift collar. A few minutes with my Boy Scout pocket knife – yes, I was a Boy Scout at the time – and it was cut to size, with new holes punched for the buckle. Next, I took a red felt pen from my desk and wrote in large, block letters, “SLAVE BOY,” before finally fastening it around my neck. The humiliating words glared back at me in the mirror as I knelt there, my eyes lowered submissively, looking at the reflection of my naked body using my peripheral vision.

This still wasn’t enough self-imposed abuse, though. I listened at the door for a moment, and hearing all three voices of my family out in the living room, slipped into the bathroom that my sister and I shared. Our bedrooms were actually adjoining, with the small bathroom providing a pass-through between the rooms. Quietly rummaging through the laundry hamper we shared, I found a pair of pink knee socks she’d apparently worn a few days earlier. They were quite filthy, and I could smell their pungent odor even before I held them to my nose. These would do perfectly, I thought. Returning to my own room, I made sure the door was locked on my side, and set myself to work.

Ever following the “Be Prepared” motto of Scouting, I dug into my rucksack and found the items I’d need tonight: a roll of duct tape, and three lengths of cord. First, I stripped my bed, neatly folding the blankets, linens and mattress cover and placing them on my desk, along with my pillow. I would sleep without the accouterments normally associated with a bed this night. Quickly securing two of the ropes to the bottom corners of the bed, I then tied one around each of my ankles, making sure my legs were uncomfortably spread. My sister’s dirty socks came next, wadded up and shoved into my mouth, a strip of duct tape ensuring my makeshift gag would remain in place all night. Finally, it was time for my hands. It would be necessary for me to be able to release myself in the morning, so I simply threaded the final piece of rope between my collar and neck, made a loop at each end, and slid my wrists through them. I spent the night thusly, spread out on my bed, pretending my hands were in handcuffs, not easily removable slip knots, fantasizing that my body was available for any who wished to abuse it.

As you might imagine, what little sleep I got that night was fitful. I was cold and uncomfortable, not being accustomed to sleeping on my back and without covers. What sleep I did get, though, was filled with vivid dreams of being forced to do the most obscene acts, things I dared not put on my punishment list for fear that they might actually be imposed on me. I awoke once in the middle of the night to a warm feeling over my groin; I’d actually had a wet dream, and semen was dripping down my slender cock and near hairless balls. I thought momentarily about getting cleaned up, perhaps even curling up inside a blanket, but knew that I had to finish what I’d started.

I awakened before my alarm went off; a good thing, considering it would have taken me several minutes to release myself and get across the room to turn it off. By then, someone might have become concerned and forced themselves into my room. I saw that it was fifteen minutes before my normal time to awaken, so I released myself from my bonds. Gathering the evidence of my self-abuse, I buried the cords, socks, and most importantly, the collar, deep in the back of my closet. By the time my alarm did sound, I was already making my bed.

I took a moment to examine myself in the mirror again. The stripes on my ass seemed to be fading, but were still visible. What intrigued me most, though, was the way the semen had dried, leaving a flaky white substance, not unlike dried glue, on my body. I decided to not shower, instead leaving the dried cum in place as a reminder of what I’d done to myself.

I seldom ate breakfast, but after a full day without eating, it had become a necessity. Of all the normal breakfast foods, I hate oatmeal the most. Therefore, that’s exactly what I had: a large bowl of oatmeal, no sugar, no milk, nothing to make it even a smidgen more palatable. I did treat myself to coffee, however, the caffeine a necessity after my lack of sleep.

It wasn’t until after I arrived at school that I realized I had a major problem: no gym shorts. I sought out my Goddess during morning break.

“Ma’am?” I said hesitantly.

“What is it, worm?” she replied in a voice I thought was too loud. So far, my situation was known only to myself and the cheerleaders…at least, I hoped so.

“Ma’am, last night…you kept my gym shorts. I need them for seventh period, Ma’am.”

“That’s your problem, worm. I don’t know why you should expect ME to bring YOUR clothes to school. I suggest you either find a pair to wear, or figure out a way to get out of gym. However, wether you do or not, remember that the only thing you’re permitted to wear when reporting for your afternoon punishment is gym shorts. If you don’t have any, you’ll just have to go without.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I acknowledged quietly, my eyes downcast.

“Oh, by the way, where’s your list of punishments?”

I quickly pulled the folded sheet of paper out of my pocket, standing there while she perused it.

“Interesting, but I think we can do better, can’t we?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I mumbled.

“I’ll keep this for now, though,” she commented. “I need to make copies for everyone. Oh, and from now on, whenever you’re given a homework assignment like this, you’ll present it to me before class. You should have come looking for me as soon as you got here; I shouldn’t have had to ask you for it. You’ll get another ten hard ones this afternoon.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Now get out of my sight worm, and stay away from me. The next time I see you, I want it to be when you’re on your knees outside the girls’ locker room.” With that, she turned on her heels and marched away, leaving me behind.

My most immediate problem was what to do about gym. I considered claiming that my locker had been broken into and the contents stolen, but Coach wouldn’t believe that. For a fleeting moment, I considered seeing if one of my friends would lend me theirs, but that would cause too many questions to be asked; questions that I was not yet prepared to answer. Then it struck me: the school nurse. It was a simple matter, actually; I just went in complaining of lower back pain, was given aspirin and an excuse from P.E. Today, of course, no school nurse would ever dispense any medications, but this was nearly 30 years ago, when it was quite common.

So I didn’t have to dress out for Phys Ed, instead spending the hour sitting in the gym while everyone else played basketball. Since it was Friday, we would all take our gym uniforms home to be washed. I was able to hang around the locker room, feigning getting my stuff together, until I was the only one left.

I both anticipated and dreaded what was going to come next. In all probability, I’d find myself kneeling naked outside the girls’ locker room door, unless I could find a pair of gym shorts somewhere. I checked a number of lockers, all to no avail. I’d hoped someone had left a pair behind, but it wasn’t to be. Once again, I went out the back door and hid my street clothes under the shrubs, then skulked back to the opposite end of the locker room. There I waited, peering out the crack between the two doors, waiting until the last possible moment before making a mad dash out the door and around the two privacy walls, dropping to my knees outside the girls’ locker room. I instinctively tried to make myself as small as possible, keeping low and curling my body into a ball, but knowing that if anyone happened upon me, it wouldn’t matter. I waited and waited, seemingly for hours, but in reality it was probably no more than ten minutes – an eternity in my current state of public nakedness – before the locker room door opened. One of the younger girls – a sophomore named Jeanette – stuck her head out the door and giggled.

“Get in here, slutboy!” she commanded. “We’re waiting back by the toilets. You are to crawl to us, then stop in front of each one of us and kiss the floor between our feet. Understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I responded, rising to all fours and crawling behind her as fast as I could. The eight girls were all fully dressed, each sitting on a commode. As directed, I stopped before each one, lowering my lips to the floor. Jeanette giggled when I knelt before her. I noticed the floor was wet as I dropped my face onto it.

“Sorry about that, slutboy. I had to piss really bad, and guess I missed. We were talking about my little accident, though, and decided that if you want to lick it all up, you can earn ten lashes off your punishment.”

I nearly came right there, my dick immediately hardening as my tongue went to work on the small puddle. I lapped it up as quickly as I could, relishing the absolute degradation of performing such a disgustingly humiliating act.

“Good boy,” she said, patting my head like a puppy when I was through.

“Now, about this list you came up with, worm,” my Goddess announced. “It’s a fair start, but we can’t see how this would negate what you’ve done to all the other girls in this school. It’s obvious you are too stupid to devise appropriate punishments for yourself. Although some of your ideas are intriguing – like this one about using your tongue to clean us up after we have sex with our boyfriends – it’s obvious that you’re all about getting your own rocks off. So, we’ve come up with our own ideas. Your first punishment will be tonight. You’re going on a date.”

“A date, Ma’am?” I asked. How could a date with one of these beautiful girls – or even any girl – be considered punishment? My eyes lit up.

“Yes, a date. Don’t worry money or anything, your date will take care of all that. You’ll be picked up out front in thirty minutes. Wear this,” she said, tossing a balled-up garment at me. “Nothing else.” With considerable trepidation, I unfolded the item and found it to be a team basketball jersey, long enough to reach well below my knees. It smelled of sweat, and I knew without asking that its owner had worn it during last night’s game. Whatever this “date” was, it apparently wasn’t going to be formal.

“Your date will identify you by what you’re wearing, but just to be sure, you’ll use the name ‘Pansy.'” Your date will ask you if you’re Pansy, and you will answer affirmatively, in the appropriate manner. Understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, still on my knees before her.

“I’d better not hear any complaints from your date. If there’s any disobedience, or even a tiny bit of hesitation when you’re told to do something, your ass will pay for it.”

“Yes, Ma’am, I understand, Ma’am.” I answered dutifully.

Twenty-five minutes later, I was standing on the curb in front of the school, waiting to be picked up. The basketball jersey was about six sizes too large for me, the neck plunging so deep that a good portion of my upper chest was exposed, and the arm holes extending nearly to my hips. I was so skinny that standing there barefoot and naked underneath it, it was almost like I was some sort of starving refugee child from those TV commercials. It wasn’t a warm day, foggy, overcast and seemingly wanting to rain. The damp chill caused my nipples to harden and my testicles to retract. It was the fear, though, of what was to come that really affected me. I’d always believed that being nearly naked in public would be an extreme turn-on, but at the moment, my dick was shrunken and pulled up between my nearly hairless thighs.

A horn honked, wakening me from my daydream reverie.

“You Pansy?” a deep voice called. I nodded, looking up at the driver. If I was a girl, he’d have been my dream. Driving a nearly new Mustang convertible, he was blond, well-built, and impeccably attired. He was in his mid-20’s, clean-cut and very handsome.

“Get in. We don’t have all day, and I still need to train you.”

I climbed in through the passenger’s door. Thankfully, the weather was such that the top was up. Seeing me shivering, the car’s owner turned the heater on full.

“Dominique was right, you are the cutest little thing,” he commented. “Lift up your top so I can see.”

I raised the hem of the jersey to mid-chest, exposing my hairless, cold-shrunken dick for him, holding it up until he motioned for me to drop it.

“Yes, I think you’ll do nicely,” he commented.

“Uh, do for what, Sir?” I asked timidly. As nice as he was acting, I was trembling in fear.

“We’re going to a little party, just myself and five or six friends,” he explained. “I needed a waiter, someone to fetch drinks and towels and such, someone not too hard on the eyes.”

I nodded, a vacant look in my eyes as I tried to figure this all out. I guessed I was going to be some sort of servant at an orgy or something.

Sissy Stepdad

Chapter IV

Even with the car’s heater on high, I shivered, The damp, sweaty basketball jersey was the only thing I had on, and I didn’t know when I’d be wearing anything else. We continued driving, my mind so befuddled by now that I had no idea where we were. I was getting scared, my mouth becoming dry. I licked my lips, and tasted the acrid urine that had dried on them. I’d almost forgotten about that, but the memory of how I’d abased myself before those beautiful, demanding girls came back in a rush. I could feel my dick start to rise once again. The driver glanced over at me, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Getting excited, are you?” he asked with a grin.

“Uh…remembering something from earlier, Sir,” I mumbled.

“Scared?”

“A little, Sir,” I answered almost truthfully. In fact, I was terrified.

“You needn’t be,” he replied calmly. “Nothing terrible is going to happen to you. You won’t be hurt, not really. In fact, you might enjoy it. Mostly, you’ll just watch and take care of whatever we need taken care of.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said, still unconvinced.

I rode in silence for nearly an hour, all too aware that I was completely at this man’s mercy. Even if I tried jumping out of the car at a stop light, there would be too many questions to answer, both to the police and my parents. I was quite literally stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. I’d made my decision when I got in the car, and now I would have to live with it. A sudden, worrisome thought jumped into my head.

“Sir? My parents…they’re expecting me home soon.”

“Actually, they’re not, Pansy,” he said, using that humiliating name I’d been told to identify myself with. “Arrangements have been made.”

“Arrangements, Sir?”

“Yes, nothing you need to concern yourself with, though. Everyone is okay, and you’ll return home in the morning. Now just relax. Take a nap if you can, because I don’t want you falling asleep during the party. We’ll be at our destination in a bit.” For some reason, his voice had a calming effect on me. I had to admit I was exhausted, having had very little sleep the night before.

“Yes, Sir,” I yawned. I was tired, and the heater had finally taken the chill out of my bones. Fatigue had finally overcome apprehension, and I did manage to fall asleep.

The change in the engine’s sound awoke from my nap. We were slowing down to pull off the main highway. Groggily, I rubbed my eyes and looked around. Nothing but a tree-lined drive. I looked over at the driver.

“Almost there, little one.” Well, it was better than being called “Pansy,” I thought.

A few hundred yards later, a house came into view. More than a house, I corrected myself, a large, Victorian mansion, it looked like. Several cars – all late-model luxury or sports models – were parked on the circular, gravel-covered drive. The driver pulled up beyond the other cars, stopping some distance from the door and turning off the engine.

“Welcome to my home,” he said. “I would prefer not to have that dirty rag you’re wearing smelling up my house, so you’ll have to leave it outside. You can just drop it on the ground when you get out,” he ordered matter-of-factly. “From this point on, you’ll do everything you’re told, without hesitation. So far, you’ve not displeased me. Continue to be respectful of all you come in contact with, remain obedient, and everything will be fine.”

“Yes, Sir,” I responded as I climbed out of the car. Closing the door behind me, I pulled my arms through the jersey and let it fall to the ground, standing naked now before him. He seemed demanding, but not threatening. It just felt right to follow his instructions.

“Come now, we need to get you cleaned up and ready for the party.” He walked towards the front door, not even looking back to make sure I was following. I felt…strange, I guess…walking behind him naked, but it was dark out now, and the house was fairly isolated. Whatever embarrassment I might have felt, though, I instinctively knew would be nothing compared to the humiliation I might encounter once inside.

I was somewhat surprised to find that nobody seemed to be around when we entered. As I stood just inside the doorway, once again shivering, I took in my surroundings. The entry opened into a small foyer, beyond which I could see what appeared to be a larger room to my front, and a stairwell to my left. I followed him upstairs, three flights to a small attic room.

“This is the servant’s quarters,” he explained, “though you won’t be spending much time here. This is where you would live if you were staying longer.”

“Yes, Sir,” I answered, looking around. It was dingy and sparsely furnished, unlike what I’d seen of the rest of the house. An unfinished plywood floor; a tiny, dirt-caked window to the outside, and insulation over bare beams for a ceiling. There was a single wool blanket folded on the bare mattress of the metal, military-style bunk. Other than that, the only “furniture” was a shelf and clothes bar mounted on the wall. A chamber pot sat on the floor next to the bed. There was minimal heat, and even less ventilation. I stood there, shivering in my nakedness.

“Wait here while I get your uniform for this evening,” he said.

“Yes, Sir,” I replied again, watching him close the door, then hearing him throw the bolt, effectively locking me in this quasi-jail cell. I hadn’t noticed until then that the heavy, solid wood door could only be locked from the outside. Any occupant – me, at the moment – could easily be imprisoned here, with no expectation of privacy. I had to pee – the cold was having its normal effect on my bladder – but wasn’t sure whether I should use the chamber pot.

Fortunately, it was only a few minutes later when I heard the door being unlocked again. I rose as Sir – I still didn’t know what to call him – entered with a small cardboard box, setting it on the tiny shelf.

“We need to get you cleaned up first. You’ll be handling food and drinks, among other things,” he explained. It was the “other things” I was worried about, but I followed him back down one flight of stairs to a well-appointed bathroom.

“Take a shower. You may use the hot water,” he stated flatly, as though this was some sort of unusual privilege. “No more than five minutes, starting now. If you have to pee, do it in the shower. You won’t have an opportunity to use the toilet tonight.”

There was no curtain for the shower stall, so turned on the waterI peed, and then showed under his watchful eye, carefully scrubbing myself clean for fear that he might not think I was clean enough and decide to scrub for himself. I was all lathered up when he announced I had thirty seconds left, so I quickly rinsed and turned the water off, standing in the stall dripping.

“Dry off,” he commanded, tossing me a threadbare, faded towel. There were two nice, plush bath towels on the towel bar, but I supposed they were reserved for someone of higher status than a servant, or slave, whatever I was. I dried off as quickly as I could. At least I’d stopped shivering, thanks in large part to the hot shower.

When I was finished, he led me back upstairs to the jail cell, as I’d begun to think of it. The bag he’d brought earlier contained my attire for the evening: a black bow tie and a set of white, French cuffs complete with cuff links…but no shirt.

“Now before we go any further, I need to ask you some questions, and I expect truthful answers, okay?”

“Yes, Sir,” I responded almost automatically. I had no right to be anything but absolutely honest with this man.

“First, are you a virgin? Have you ever had sex?”

“Yes, Sir…I mean, no, Sir, unless you count masturbation,” I said almost automatically. I wasn’t sure whether a yes or no answer would be right, felt I had to explain it to him.

“No, beating off doesn’t count,” he said with a smile. “So I’m assuming the first question, you meant you’d never had sex with a woman. What about a man?”

“No, Sir, never.”

“Never sucked a cock, even?”

“No, Sir,” I replied, blushing now.

“But you’d like to, wouldn’t you? Truthful answer, please.”

“Um…I don’t know, Sir. Maybe.”

“You’d do it if I told you to, though, right?”

“Um…I think so. Maybe once, just to see what it’s like.”

“What about being ass fucked? Does the thought of that happening excite you?”

“I don’t know, Sir. I’m afraid something like that might hurt, and I’m not sure I’d like it, Sir.” I was scared again, afraid that something like this might happen. “Sir, am I going to…you know…is someone going to do that to me?”

“No. Not tonight, anyway. Maybe never.” I’m sure he could see the visible signs of my relief.

“What about sucking cock, Sir? Will I have to do that?”

“Probably,” he answered. “Almost assuredly, as a matter of fact. Does that scare you?”

“Maybe a little, Sir,” I answered as truthfully as I could. “I’ve practiced on things like hot dogs and bananas, Sir, but my gag reflex…”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. You’re still a beginner, and nobody expects you to be able to deep throat just yet. You will be expected to swallow, though.”

“I understand, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” I said with less relief in my voice than there was in my heart.

“One more thing for you to wear,” he said, reaching into the bag once more. He pulled out a white leather thong. “Nobody will expect your ass to be available while you have this on. White means you’re still a virgin. Unless you want to be ass-fucked, though, I suggest you don’t take it off. With it on, you’re anal virginity is secure. Without it, your body is fair game.”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied, slipping the skimpy garment on. The back was nothing more than a string that fit deeply inside my ass crack, the front a sort of sack to hold my cock and balls.

“Okay, a few ground rules before we go downstairs. As I’m sure you figured out by now, this is a gay party. There will be six of us, though two are bisexual, not strictly gay. Your job is to serve drinks and hors d’oveurs, fetch towels when we need them, and generally be at our beck and call. You’ll call us ‘Sir,’ and you’ll be referred to as ‘boy,’ unless, that is, you prefer ‘Pansy?'”

“No, Sir, ‘boy’ is fine, Sir.”

“Good. Now, one last thing. You’ll do what you’re told, when you’re told, no matter how humiliating or distasteful it might seem. The only thing that’s off limits is your ass, unless you beg for it. If someone wants you to hold their dick while they pee, you’ll do it. If someone wants you to wipe their ass after they shit, same thing. Whenever you’re not busy fetching or serving one of us, you’ll be tidying up. I don’t ever want to see anyone with an empty drink glass. If you’re disobedient, hesitant or in any way unacceptable, I’ll report your behavior to Dominique. I’ve been told she’ll take it out on your ass, correct?”

“Yes, Sir. She told me she’d make sure I couldn’t sit for a week if she got a bad report from you, Sir.”

“And you don’t want that, do you, boy?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good, then we understand each other. So, let’s go downstairs before the party starts without us!”

Awaiting us in the immense living room were five men, all about the same age as Sir, all dressed in short silk robes, and all sitting with a drink in one hand, chatting quietly. All eyes turned towards me as we entered; I felt like a piece of meat being appraised.

“Go get the snack tray out of the kitchen, boy,” Sir told me, “Then bring it back and offer our guests some refreshments.”

“Yes, Sir,” I responded automatically, padding off barefoot through the swinging doors. I could hear mumbling as I set to my task, assuming correctly that they were talking about me. I found a tray of hors d’oveurs in the refrigerator, and draping a clean white linen towel over my arm – as I’d seen waiters in the movies do – I carried the snack tray out, stopping before each guest and allowing him to take what he desired. A stack of small plates in the center of the tray were there for this purpose.

“Steven says you’re a total virgin,” one of the guests commented. He looked to be the youngest of the group, certainly the shortest at about 5’4″ tall.

“Yes, Sir,” I answered promptly, blushing that my lack of experience was now common knowledge among these men..

“Good. It’s been a long time since we’ve had one serve us. You may remove my robe and hang it in the closet,” he said, standing up. “When you’ve finished that, come back here.”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied, setting the tray down and helping him off with his robe. I couldn’t help staring at his body. He was sculpted like a marble God, with bulging muscles and rippling abs. As physically powerful a man as I’d ever seen. I also couldn’t help looking down at his cock, something that I immediately envied. My own was barely six inches long when erect; even flaccid his was at least that, and considerably thicker. Even his balls looked bigger, I thought. Catching myself, I quickly averted my eyes and scrambled over to the coat closet, carefully hanging the robe on a coat hanger. I then returned to him, feeling the eyes of the other five watching me. I stood in front of him, then knelt down submissively..

“What do you think of it?” he asked. I looked up and saw he was serious.

“Um…it’s very nice, Sir,” I answered, not sure what else I should say, hoping my response pleased him.

“Describe it to me,” he ordered. I stared at the object hanging softly just inches from my face, studying it, inhaling its scent.

“Sir, it’s the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen. I wish I had one like it, Sir. It seems so utterly masculine, soft yet masterful, perfectly formed. It even smells wonderful, Sir,” I said. “Sir, I’m not sure what else to say.”

“Nuzzle it with your face, boy,” he ordered. I obeyed, gently rubbing my cheeks against his soft, slowly hardening member. It felt right to be here at this man’s feet, with his manhood sliding against my face.

“Steven says you’ve never sucked a cock before.”

“No, Sir, I haven’t,” I answered. “Will yours be my first, Sir?”

“Only if you want it to be, little boy. Do you?”

“Um…if it is your wish, Sir,” I answered submissively. I knew it was, as it was mine, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit it out loud.

“I think you should beg for it, then,” he replied, an almost sadistic tone in his voice.

“Please, Sir, may I suck your beautiful cock, Sir? I know I won’t be very good at it, but I promise to do my best!” Strangely, I really did want it in my mouth, though I’d never really had any homosexual thoughts at all before.

“What do you think, guys?” he asked his friends. “Do you think our little slut wants it bad enough, or should we make him beg some more?” I almost came in my leather panties when he called me a slut.

“I think we ought to have him tell us all the nasty things he’ll do in order to suck your cock, John,” the oldest of the group said. My own dick, already hard, started seeping pre-cum again.

“Sir, if you allow me to suck your cock, I’ll do anything you ask,” I begged. “I’ll swallow your cum, I’ll lick your asshole, I’ll let you do anything you want to me. I’ll drink your piss, let you fuck my ass, anything! Please, Sir!” These were my some of my most humiliating fantasies, and as difficult as it was to admit it to myself, I honestly wanted them to happen…and more. I wanted them to make me suck their cocks and lick their balls, and have them spit on me and piss in my mouth, to make me jerk off and lick my own cum from the floor. All these things I wanted so badly.

Their only response, though, was to start laughing. All of them. At me, kneeling before this naked man, ready to be his personal whore. Ready to give him my virgin asshole for the privilege of sucking him off.

“I think not,” he said. “Go retrieve my robe.”

Chagrined, I rose and walked to the closet, bringing the silk robe back to him, helping him on with it.

“Gentlemen, shall we go get dressed now that the entertainment is over?” As a group, they laughed again, then all went upstairs to various rooms, returning soon fully dressed. I just stood there, unsure what was going on.

“Boy, didn’t I tell you your job was to keep our glasses full?” Sir asked, rattling the ice in his otherwise empty glass.

“Sorry, Sir,” I replied. “I’m not sure what you’re drinking, though, and I don’t know how to mix drinks anyway, Sir.”

“There’s a pitcher in the refrigerator. Just bring it out, please.”

“Yes, Sir,” I responded, speeding of at a near trot to complete his bidding.

I spent the rest of the evening just standing around, refilling glasses, offering snacks and fetching whatever anyone wanted, while they sat around and chatted. Sports, business, you name it…everything except sex. I’d fully expected to be covered – and filled – with semen by now, but that didn’t seem to be the point of this party. It was more like, well, friends getting together to socialize. And that’s exactly what it was, I finally realized.

It was shortly after midnight when the party broke up. They’d stopped drinking alcohol several hours earlier, and the only beverage they’d had since draining that one pitcher was coffee. Well, tea, in one case.

“Okay, off to bed with you,” Sir said, swatting me playfully on the butt as I started up the stairs. “Go up to your room and think about what you’ve learned this evening.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said, entering the tiny living quarters, closing the door behind me, waiting to hear the lock being turned. It was, and I was alone, in the dark, only the cloud-shrouded moon providing any illumination. I carefully removed the collar and cuffs, setting them on the shelf. I took the panties off, too, but instead of the shelf, pulled them over my head, the crotch at my face, inhaling the scent of wet leather and my own need. After a few minutes, I finally wrapped myself in the scratchy wool blanket and went to sleep. My dreams were curiously calm and normal, nothing of bondage, abuse or humiliation like I’d been having lately.

I awoke hours later, the sun shining brightly through the filthy window, to find my clothes – those I’d worn to school the previous day – neatly folded on the floor just inside the door. I got up and checked the door, and finding it unlocked, dressed and padded downstairs. Sir was sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper.

“Sleep well?”

“Fairly well, Sir.”

“Any questions about last night?”

“Only one, Sir. Why?”

“Why? Why do you think?”

I had to ponder that one for a moment.

“Probably a lot of reasons, Sir, but two main ones, I guess. First, I needed to admit to myself that I am submissive by nature. I really did want to suck that man’s cock, not because I wanted to, but because I thought that was what he wanted. I would have done all those other things, too, and anything else demanded of me.”

“Good. You’re beginning to understand yourself. But what else did you learn?”

“Sir…um…I guess I owe you and your friends an apology. I always thought gay people…or whatever you prefer to be called…were only interested in sex with each other. But other than the first few minutes, when I thought I was going to suck his cock, and when you made me expose myself to you in the car, there was nothing sexual involved. It was like you were all simply friends, getting together for dinner or something.”

“So what you’re saying is we were acting just like…”

“Normal people, Sir.” I just blurted it out, realizing afterwards how insulting that could be. “I’m sorry, Sir, I didn’t mean to say that.”

“No, that’s okay. But let me ask you something. Do you think you’re normal?”

Again, I had to think it over.

“I’m not sure, Sir. I mean, other than my sexual and emotional needs, I’m really not all that different from anyone else, I guess, just like you and your friends aren’t really different.”

“So you’ve learned something about yourself as well as the gay community. I think you should be proud of that. Now, how about some breakfast?”

We sat and chatted for another hour over eggs, bacon, toast and coffee. It seemed so normal. He asked about school, we talked sports and current events, even politics and religion. I was surprised to find he was actually a practicing Catholic, knowing how that particular church stood on the issue of homosexuality. His response was if having a loving relationship was a sin, he was willing to make his argument before God when his time came. I had to agree with his logic. Assuming the Holy Bible was really God’s word, wasn’t it just man’s interpretation of that word, and who is to say that interpretation is accurate?

He drove me home after breakfast. Well, not home, exactly, but close enough. I walked the last few blocks, thinking about all I’d learned in the past 24 hours.

Sissy Stepdad

Chapter V

It was mid-afternoon when I finally returned home, too late to start my Saturday lawn mowing – I did yard care for a number of people across town – so I called my customers and asked to reschedule for Sunday. Everyone was okay with that, though one said he’d be gone after this evening and wouldn’t be there to pay me. I told him it was no problem

I had a lot to think about. I was pretty much in a daze for the remainder of the weekend, going about my chores, eating meals with my family, but most of all, evaluating and searching my inner self. I spent a lot of quiet time, just sitting and contemplating everything that had happened the last few days, and the realization I’d come to only a few hours earlier. I was a submissive, but I wasn’t sure what that meant. Was I supposed to submit to everyone, or just certain people? Is this “condition” temporary? Am I going to get over it, like a cold or the flu? If there were people I couldn’t let know about this – and there certainly were – how should I act around them? If I start changing my behavior, somebody will undoubtedly wonder what’s going on. I just wasn’t sure what to do, and there weren’t many places I could turn to. It wasn’t like it is today, with internet access at the push of a button, chat rooms where you can talk things out and get information from others. Finding information wasn’t easy, and I decided to just let my instincts take over.

The first thing I did after coming to this decision was go back to my room and re-write my punishment list, this time without any consideration or concern for myself. I didn’t care if the punishment was painful, humiliating, disgusting or resulted in public knowledge of my submissiveness. My pen flew across the paper, and I ended up with over a hundred suitable penalties in short order, ranging from dressing like a girl in public, to eating shit and sucking off dogs. Grabbing a stack of dimes from my dresser, I took the six pages of notes down to the local pharmacy, where there was a self-serve photocopier, and made eight copies, one for each of my Mistresses. I carefully folded each one, placed them in separate envelopes, and set out to hand-deliver them. The entire affair, from the time I started writing until the final sealed envelope was placed in the last cheerleader’s delicate hands, took four hours. Two weren’t home – including my Goddess – but there was nothing I could do about that. I’d try again tomorrow, and if all else, would take care of it before school on Monday. I’d be certain to be waiting when they arrived..

Since I had my weekend job, as well as a morning paper route (this morning’s deliveries were made by a sub, which would cost me more than I made in a day), I had few chores at home other than my own cleaning. Mowing the lawn, of course, but I’d do that tomorrow, either before or after my paying customers. It was Beth upon whom most of the chores fell, she who washed the dishes and vacuumed the floors. With nothing else to do, and a strong desire to be of service to someone, I asked her if she would like to relax while I took care of the housecleaning.

As you might imagine, she was surprised at my request. Typical among siblings, we weren’t exactly best of friends, often going out of our way to irritate each other. I always considered her a pest, and she thought I was just a big bully. Ne’er the twain shall meet, and all that, you know? Not today, though. Beth spent the afternoon watching television while I cleaned the bathrooms, stopping only long enough to make sure she always had a fresh Coke, then returning to my/her chores.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked the third time I checked to see if she needed anything.

“I just feel like being nice to you, I suppose,” I lied. In reality, I was trying to apologize without really apologizing. Besides, it gave me that warm feeling to be doing my sister’s work. I almost imagined either she or my Goddess were commanding me. “Would you like to check my work, make sure it’s acceptable to you?”

“Huh?” she asked, startled by my question. “Uh, sure,” she said, getting up from the couch. I took the glass from her and followed her into our shared bathroom.

“Wow, you did a really good job!” she exclaimed. “But where’s your stuff?” We’d always shared the bathroom counter, but now it was bare except for her hygiene and makeup items, which were neatly set in place. I’d even picked fresh flowers from the garden and placed them in a vase. The bathroom even smelled feminine.

“I figured you’re growning up now, so you need the space. I moved all my things into my bedroom. I’ll just bring in what I need, and take it out with me when I’m done,” I explained. “Just let me know if anything gets dirty, and I’ll take care of it.”

“Really?” she asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Really,” I parroted, looking her in the eyes momentarily, then lowering mine.

“Well, this is a real change, but I think I like it.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “Is there anything else you need from me today? If not, I have a bit of studying to do before dinner.”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so.”

The next morning, I got up a little earlier than normal, because it was Sunday and that meant major newspaper deliveries. Weekdays, I only delivered about 60 papers, but Sunday I had over 100, so many that it took me two trips on my bike to get them all delivered. I didn’t use my bike today, though. After rolling the papers, I hoisted my carrier over my shoulders and made my deliveries, placing each copy right on the doorstep. If I’d ridden my bike, I’d have thrown them from the street instead, and that just wouldn’t have been right. From now on, I’d take special care with each paper, making sure none of my customers ever had to search for theirs. As soon as they opened their doors, there it would be, waiting right on the porch. The weather was nice, so I wore nothing by a pair of cotton shorts, a tank top and my tennis shoes. No underwear and no socks. I found that being dressed like that made me feel even more submissive than normal.

As soon as I got home from my route, I went into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Everyone would be getting up soon, and I knew they’d all like a cup. Even Beth, though hers was pretty much a cup of milk with a splash of coffee in it. I guess it made her feel more grown up to be drinking coffee. While the coffee was brewing, I emptied the dishwasher, putting last night’s dishes away. This was usually Beth’s job, but I had nothing else to do at the moment. When that was done, I got out the dishes and pans for breakfast. Sunday meant pancakes, usually, so I pulled the package of mix out of the cupboard and read the instructions. It didn’t seem difficult, but Mom always used the mixer, and that would certainly wake everyone up. So, I just got the ingredients together and staged everything on the table, ready to mix, then went back to my room and sat at my desk, reading over the punishment list I’d written the day before.

Everyone was surprised to find everything ready. All Mom had to do was mix the ingredients, turn on the grill and cook. I even cleaned up for her afterwards, clearing the table, loading the dishwasher and wiping everything down until it was spotless. Mom and Dad barely noticed, I think, but Beth kept giving me really strange looks.

Once breakfast was over, it was time to get the lawn mower out and start taking care of my customers. I told all of them that because I was a day late, there would be no charge. Most tipped me, anyway, but a couple just nodded and went back inside, happy to have saved a few dollars. I ended up with $30 for mowing ten lawns that day, quite a bit less than what I usually earned, since I normally charged $6. Yeah, I know, that wasn’t much, but remember, we’re talking about the 1960’s here. Most of my friends were working for $1.35 an hour, if they had jobs. I could do two lawns in an hour, and generally set my own schedule.

The rest of the day was easy, mostly just hanging out in the back yard or watching TV. I wasn’t much into sports, so while other guys would be down at the park tossing a baseball around or something, I’d usually just read or watch TV. I liked reading the most, though, because I could escape my own reality through the words of others.

The one thing I did need to do was take my day’s earnings and go back down to the department store again. I needed another complete gym uniform; mine was gone, except for the shoes. I didn’t have much time to waste, because by the time I realized I needed this stuff, it was a half hour until the store closed. I was lucky at that, because back in those days, most stores weren’t even open on Sundays. So, I got on my bike and rode the twenty or so blocks, locking it to the rack on the curb and going inside. As luck would have it, Debbie was clerking again. She was the cheerleader who’d embarrassed me a few days earlier when I was buying a new jock strap. She was also one of the two who weren’t at home the day before when I tried to deliver my papers. I’d hoped she’d be working, and brought her envelope with me.

“Ma’am, this is for you,” I said quietly, setting my purchases on the counter and handing her the envelope. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve taken the liberty of re-writing my punishments for you. I reviewed my original set, and they weren’t really punishments at all, Ma’am.”

“Fine, I’ll read it later,” she said. “But I think you got part of your purchase wrong, didn’t you?”

“Ma’am?” I asked, befuddled by her question. I took inventory: gym shorts, shirt, jock strap and cotton socks. “No, Ma’am, I think I have everything right.”

“No, you don’t,” she insisted. “These socks are all wrong,” she said, holding them up. “You need to get them from over there,” she pointed towards the girls’ department. “You find ankle socks on the third aisle, towards the left end.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said, leaving everything on the counter and walking quickly to the are she’d indicated. I did find them, right where she said. My only concern was which style to purchase. There were plain cotton athletic socks, knee socks, some with pink toes, and others with frilly ankles. They were all distinctively feminine, though. I quickly made my decision and grabbed a pair of the thin, frilly ones. I knew I’d be ridiculed in gym, but that was my problem.

“Good choice,” she commented, ringing up my purchase. It came to $15.30. I handed her at twenty, and like before, she kept the change. I didn’t say anything, just took my bag of goods and left.

Monday morning came, and I found myself waiting in front of the school for my Goddess to arrive, so I could give her my revised list of punishments. Her boyfriend – a college student who graduated from here the year before – dropped her off at the curb. She just walked right by me, completely ignoring my presence, as though I wasn’t worthy of being noticed by the likes of her. She was right, of course, and I should not have expected her to even acknowledge me. She did, though, looking over her shoulder as she passed by and instructing me to bring the list to my punishment session. One of the other girls had apparently called her.

The day was fairly normal, until gym. The other girls had taken their cue from Monique and completely ignored me. It was only when I got into the locker room and started changing that things got difficult.

“Hey, what happened to your ass, man?” someone said. I could see in the mirror hanging on the wall that faded welts and bruises were still very visible. I blushed.

“Yeah,” another chimed in. “Who took the belt to you, your old man, or your girlfriend?”

This led to a raucous round of guffaws, but nothing like what happened when I sat down to put on my gym shoes and socks. I feigned ignorance, claiming that my mother must have put my sister’s socks in my drawer by mistake, and I hadn’t noticed when I packed for school. I held the socks up inquisitively, then shrugged my shoulders and put them on. After all, I said, it was better than the black nylon dress socks I’d worn to school.

I got razzed about the socks all period while we were playing basketball. Most of the guys called me “cutie pie,” or “girly.” Even the coach got into it during our uniform inspection – a staple of Monday gym, when he’d troop the line, making sure we were properly attired.

“Cute,” he commented. “Did you paint your toenails, too?”

I knew I’d only be able to get away wearing girls’ socks one time, and I stammered the same excuse I’d given before.

The coach replied, “I guess I should be thankful you didn’t get confused and pack your sister’s panties,” before continuing down the line. My face burned bright red; having my toenails painted and wearing girls’ panties were both on my punishment list, and I knew I would be forced to face that eventuality.

I stayed in the hot, steamy shower longer than the rest of the guys, keeping my face to the wall as much as possible in order to display the stripes I’d earned. At this point, I didn’t care what they thought. They’d seen the welts on my ass, watched me put girl’s socks on, and soon they’d see me wear panties, pink toenails, and if all my punishments were imposed, someday see “SISSY SLAVE” written on my ass in felt marker. Fuck it, I didn’t care what anyone thought anymore. At least, for the moment, I didn’t.

I decided to leave my gym shorts in the locker, too, rather than wearing them to punishment. I’d probably lose another pair if I took them with me, and I didn’t have enough money left to buy a new pair. So, I bundled up my street clothes, stuck them behind the bush again, and walked naked to the girls’ locker room. This time I didn’t try to hide, but knelt down with my back straight and my knees spread, my dick and balls fully exposed to anyone who might walk out of the locker room.

This time it was Mary and Susan, fifteen year old freshmen, identical twins, with light brown hair and green eyes. Mary stared at me and started to giggle; Susan just motioned with her finger and said, “Come.” I lowered my hands to the ground and began crawling behind them, keeping my ass held high and my legs spread in order to maximize my humiliation.

My Goddess awaited back at the toilets, as usual. I prostrated myself before her, gently kissing her tiny, beautiful feet.

“How may I serve you, Ma’am?” I asked in a tiny, soft voice.

“I understand you learned something last weekend,” she replied by way of an answer.

“Yes, Ma’am, I did, Ma’am,” I said quietly, rising to my knees but continuing to stare at the ground. “I learned my proper place in life is at your feet, Ma’am.”

“My feet, or anyone’s feet?”

“Anyone’s, Ma’am.”

“And are you begging for our forgiveness for what you’ve done?”

“Oh, yes, Ma’am,” I said earnestly. “I beg with all my heart for forgiveness. It was wrong of me to take my pleasure in touching you and the other girls, and I am ready to accept whatever punishment you believe is appropriate.”

“Forgiveness is earned, not given,” she said harshly, pulling on my hair and forcing my head up. She stared in my eyes. “You will begin your true punishment tomorrow, when we will start going through your list, one item at a time. Then, when you’re through with that list, you can start on the one we wrote.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Thank you, Ma’am,” I replied.

“For right now, I want you to open your mouth as wide as you can and look straight up,” she commanded. I did so, and she spat a huge glob of saliva directly into it. I started to wretch, but the look on her face warned me to hold position.

“Don’t swallow,” she ordered. “Crawl to each of the girls so they can spit in your mouth as well. Once everyone has had their chance, then you can swallow.”

Unable to answer, I simply nodded my head, the sensation of her spit sliding down the sides of my throat wanting to make me retch. I crawled in turn to each girl, silently begging with open mouth, waiting for their spit to join that of their teammates. When they were all finished, I swallowed, reveling in the absolute subjugation of the moment.

“How did it taste?” one of them asked.

“Um…I didn’t like it, Ma’am, but it made me feel…worthless.”

“Good, because that’s what you are, as worthless as scum on a toilet bowl,” my Goddess reminded me.

“Okay, one last thing before you leave. How long has it been since you’ve cum?”

The question was totally unexpected, and when I thought about it, I realized I hadn’t jacked off in something like four or five days. That was really unusual.

“I’m not sure, Ma’am. I think it was Thursday, Ma’am,” I replied as honestly as I could.

“That’s a rather long time for a little stud muffin like you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Ma’am, I guess so.”

“How often do you usually jack off?”

“Maybe once or twice a day, Ma’am,” I answered, my face turning red again. “Sometimes more.”

“My, my, what a nasty little boy,” she said. Several of the girls giggled; I just wanted to disappear. “You jack off at school, too, don’t you?

“Yes, Ma’am.” I can’t remember – even with all that had gone on over the past week – when I’d been so embarrassed.

“Well, I see that we have two problems, then. First, it’s well known that adolescent boys are driven by their hormones, and unless they empty their balls regularly, they turn into sex maniacs. We can’t have you going around raping poor, innocent cheerleaders, can we?”

“No, Ma’am,” I replied.

“But at the same time, we can’t have you wasting time and using up all your energy playing with your pud, either.”

“No, Ma’am.”

“So what do you think the solution is?”

“Um…I don’t know, Ma’am.”

“Yes, you do. Think about it, slug.”

“Um, a restriction on how many times I’m allowed to cum, Ma’am?”

“You got it almost right. From now on, you have to get permission before you can cum. That permission must come from a female, any female, but I have a feeling you’ll probably restrict your requests to the eight of us. Now, just to be fair to the rest of the female population, we’ll ensure you get a minimum of two orgasms each week. You might not always like the way they happen, but you’ll get at least two. You can play with yourself all you want, but if you cum without permission, you’ll be punished.”

“I understand, Ma’am.”

“Oh, one other thing. You will masturbate to orgasm – or not to orgasm – whenever any of us tell you to.”

“Yes, Ma’am.

“Okay, do it.”

“Ma’am?” I asked, confused.

“Show us how you pound that pathetic little pud of yours, but don’t you dare even think about getting any of that nasty boy cum on any of us.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied. “May I sit on a toilet, Ma’am? That’s where I usually do it,” I said truthfully.

“No, I don’t think so. You can just stay on your knees and stare at the floor. I don’t want you looking at any of our legs, either, slug.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said, spitting on my hand for lubrication before starting to stroke myself. I was hard already, in fact had been most of the day, and it was only with great effort that I managed to get my dick to subside while I was changing. I could feel my balls boiling in less than two minutes.

“Ma’am, may I please cum, Ma’am?” I asked, remembering to keep my eyes downcast.

“Angela, didn’t you have something for him to cum on?” my Goddess asked.

I saw the blonde hair, blue eyed Sophomore’s feet step into my view, then her hand setting a slice of bread down on the floor.

“You’re going to cum on the bread, and then eat your first cum sandwich,” she told me. Her statement, the realization that this would be the most humiliating act so far, and the fact that I’d not cum in at least 96 hours caused an immediate reaction. I tried to keep my dick pointed at the slice of bread, but my world went black as my orgasm exploded. It was the hardest, longest cum I could ever remember. I finally opened my eyes, panting, to see semen not only soaking into the bread, but dripping from my hand and splattered across the floor. A hand suddenly came out of nowhere, cuffing me across the head.

“I told you not to get any of that nasty shit on me, you slut!” my Goddess screamed. I looked down as she lifted her foot, showing me a large drop that had landed right between two of her perfectly manicured toes. “Clean it up!” she demanded.

I lowered my face to her foot and began carefully licking my own cum ejaculate, stopping only when she finally got tired of my ministrations, kicking me away.

“You got the floor dirty, too, you nasty boy!” one of the other girls commented. “I hope you don’t expect us to clean your mess up.”

“No, Ma’am,” I replied, dropping to my belly and slithering to each small puddle, first licking it up and then using my hair to dry the saliva off the floor. It tasted different than when I licked it off my Goddess’s foot; perhaps it was the cleaning solution, or just the taste of the feet that had been walking there before me.

Finally, it was time for my “afternoon snack,” as one of the girls called it. By now, the bread was soggy, as cum had soaked through it. Nonetheless, I picked it up with my hand, folded it in half like a sandwich, and slowly chewed it, savoring the flavor. To be honest, I really couldn’t taste the cum, but I knew I had to put on a good show if I didn’t want to be punished more.

I noticed that the girls were having a quiet conversation while I was doing all this, but didn’t really pay much attention to what they were saying. It was none of my business, anyway, though I was sure it concerned me. I was right.

“You got lucky, slime,” my Goddess, Angelique, said when I was finished with my meal. “I was going to have you give us all your money from your paper route and lawn mowing, but the girls convinced me otherwise.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Don’t you think you should thank them, slime?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’m sorry, Ma’am.” I crawled to each of the teenagers, gently kissed each foot, and verbally thanked them. When I was finished, I returned to my place in the middle of the restroom floor.

“Instead of taking your money, we decided that you can just spend it on us instead. You’ll keep accurate records, and we’ll be checking, but you can keep five percent for yourself. Everything else you’ll spend on us. We’ve also come up with a rotation list. If you want to have your pathetic little orgasm, you have to ask whoever has ‘the duty.’ She’s the only one of the eight of us who can give you permission. You can still ask someone outside our little group, but somehow I think you’d prefer not to do that, right?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“The person on the list for that day has complete control over you, both at school and afterwards. If you displease her, you probably won’t get to cum. Even if you’re nice to her, you might not get to anyway, but I suggest you do your best.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied again.

“You may only ask once per day, and she’s the only one who can give you permission. However, any of us can order you to play with yourself, and either cum or not, as we decide, whenever we want. Understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You’ll also be expected to buy lunch for whoever’s turn it is, and if you’re smart, you might consider little gifts, too. Something to put us in the right frame of mind to let you relieve yourself. Oh, and speaking of gifts, the list will also have our birthdays on it. We each expect a gift, at least $50 in value. Something nice, that shows you’ve given thought to us as individuals. If we’re not pleased…well, you won’t want that to happen, will you?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Now, one more thing. We already know about your lawn mowing business, and have decided you’re going to expand it. You’ll do all your paying customers on Saturdays, and our lawns on Sundays. Every week, all of us. For free.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” I’d already thought about this, and was going to offer the same thing anyway. Most of my customers were every two weeks, but I’d do these eight weekly.

“Good. Now, we’ve decided that we’re going to do something different tomorrow. There’s a matinee after school that we’ve all been dying to see, and you’re taking us.”

“Uh…Ma’am…I’d love to take you all to the movies, but I’m broke. I spent all my money on new gym clothes, Ma’am.”

“Tough shit. Figure a way,” she replied, walking out with her troupe in tow. I was going to be expected to accomplish even the impossible, it seemed.

-.

Sissy Stepdad

Chapter VI

It was raining when I went outside. My clothes were soaked and mud-covered, hidden as they’d been under the shrubs behind the locker room. The cold, hard rain made me shiver uncontrollably…or was it something else causing that to happen? It didn’t really matter. I got dressed as best as I could, and jogged home. The weather forecast hadn’t mentioned any rain, so I didn’t believe anyone would pay particular attention to someone coming home late from school, getting caught in the storm.

Beth had managed to get home before me, apparently arriving before the downpour started. She was sitting in the living room, watching the end of some soap opera. I stood there for a minute, dripping water on the floor.

“Were you going to use the bathroom?” I asked. “I really need to get out of these wet clothes and take a shower to warm up.”

“Actually, I was,” she said, looking up at me with that same, almost knowing look on her face. “I’ll only be a little bit, maybe a half hour,” she continued. “I need to take a bath before dinner. Maybe you should just go get out of those wet clothes and wait?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I replied. I wanted to be especially nice to her, because I knew she had a stash of money that I might be able to borrow from. I figured I needed at least $20 for the movies tomorrow; more, if I was going to be expected to buy snacks. I went into my room and stripped down, drying off as best as I could. Shivering, I threw on my bathrobe and sat on the edge of my bed to wait.

I heard the water running as Beth filled her tub, and I imagined what her naked body looked like. Sure, she was my sister, but she had always been pretty, in a cute sort of way. Now that she was starting to blossom, recently moving out of training bras to an A cup (I knew this from rummaging through the dirty clothes the other day), I began to wonder what her pussy looked like. She had light brunette hair, almost more of a dark blonde, so would her cunt hair be the same color? In fact, would she even have any yet? If so, was it just a few wispy hairs, or a full bush? And what about her cunt lips? Just a puffy little slit, or would her labia be defined enough to be visible? What would it feel like to fuck her, or even just stick my tongue there and lick?

I started to fantasize about Beth taking charge, being my Mistress and me her slave. Making me massage her feet, doing her laundry, ironing her clothes. Being spanked on the bare ass when I displeased her or didn’t perform to her expectations. More humiliating things, like cleaning her shoes with my tongue, hand-washing her delicate underthings, being her footstool. Having her boss me around, doing her bidding.

I sat there for closer to an hour, listening to my sister splash around in the tub, the water occasionally being turned on as she warmed her bath up. Finally, I heard the sound of the tub draining, and a few minutes later, a knock from inside the bathroom door.

“It’s all yours,” she hollered.

“Thank you,” I replied. I waited a few minutes to ensure she was out of the bathroom.

The water, of course, was barely tepid. Beth had intentionally used all the hot water, and our water heater had a notoriously slow recovery time. I was able to get maybe five minutes of warm water before it became icy cold, forcing me out of the shower. I dried off quickly, enjoying the residual warmth left in the bathroom from her bath. After dressing, I went back out to the living room.

“How was your shower?” she asked, a slight grin on her face.

“Oh, fine,” I replied. “And your bath?”

“Nice and hot,” she answered. “Very hot and relaxing.”

“Um…I need to ask a favor,” I said, sitting down on the other end of the couch.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was wondering if I could borrow some money. Maybe twenty five dollars?” I asked hesitatingly.

“Why? Don’t you have your own money? What happened to what you earned from the lawns?”

“Um…something came up and I had to spend it unexpectedly,” I stammered. “And now something else has come up, and I really need some cash in a hurry.”

“You’re not smoking dope or anything like that, are you?” she asked suspiciously.

“No, nothing like that. I just need some money in a hurry…by tomorrow. I’ll pay you back, with interest, next weekend.” She looked dubious. I was worried about not getting the loan, so I decided to sweeten the pot. “Look, until I pay you back, I’ll do all your chores. I won’t even complain when you want to watch your programs.” We always argued over the television. “You can watch whatever you want.”

“For how long?”

“How long for what? Chores or TV?”

“Both.”

“Until I pay back the loan?” I suggested.

“How about one month or until you pay back the loan, whichever is longer?”

“But I’m going to pay you back on Saturday!” I complained.

“Well, those are my conditions. Either you do my chores and don’t complain about what I want to watch on TV, or no loan.”

“Okay, you win,” I said.

“Good. You can start by cleaning up my room.”

Her room was, of course, trashed just like it usually was. Clothes on the floor, bed unmade, candy wrappers and half-empty Coke cans on her desk. We weren’t allowed to have food in our rooms, but that never stopped her. I tidied things up quickly, finishing tucking her blanket in just as I heard Mom come home from her shopping trip. I slipped through the shared bathroom and came out my bedroom door. Nobody except Beth even knew I’d been in her room.

The evening was pretty normal, other than me deferring to my sister when it came to what television show would be on. It was sort of a family night, with us watching some cutesy program about a dog. It wasn’t until bedtime that I was able to talk to Beth about the money. I went into the bathroom and tapped lightly on her door.

“I just remembered,” I said, “I’m going to need a little extra. Could I get, maybe $35?”

“A month of chores, you do whatever I say, and you pay me back $50 on Saturday,” she said. I nodded in agreement. “Good. I need another pillow or two. Bring me yours,” she ordered, apparently testing me. I went into my room and brought her my pillows. She handed me the cash.

“I’d like breakfast in bed tomorrow. Nothing fancy, just coffee, orange juice and toast. You may leave now,” she said with a regal air. I backed out of the room with an exaggerated bow, closing the door behind me.

I set my alarm for an hour before the time I normally got up. I didn’t sleep well without pillows, and ended up stuffing a sweat shirt with my dirty clothes in order to get comfortable. It didn’t work well, but it worked. I managed to get to sleep, eventually.

After serving Beth’s breakfast, I scurried out the door. I had a few things to do before school, and wanted to be there before Jeanette – my ‘Owner’ for the day – arrived. I hadn’t had time to learn each of their likes and dislikes, but I thought to myself, what girl doesn’t like flowers? There was a small florist that opened early, only a few blocks out of my way. I walked in and selected a nice bouquet of pink roses; red would have been cheaper, but I thought it would be too forward of me to give her red roses. That was, after all, the color of lovers, and we were hardly that.

I stood out in front of the school, anxiously awaiting Jeanette’s arrival, holding the flowers in one hand, and a small box of chocolates in the other. Finally, after waiting what seemed like hours, I spotted her walking up the sidewalk towards the school. I hesitated only a moment before running towards her.

“Ma’am, may I take your books, please?” I asked, holding the flowers and candy out, a stupid grin on my face.

“What the fuck is this, slime?” she sneered, shoving her binder and two schoolbooks at me. This was in the days before backpacks became fashionable.

“Ma’am, I bought you flowers, and chocolates!” I beamed.

“And just what the fuck am I supposed to do with these?” she spat, grabbing the roses out of my hand and tossing them into the gutter. “You stupid fuck, you want to give me flowers, don’t do it somewhere there’s no place to put them!” I was crestfallen.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” I said, tears welling up in my eyes.

“Fuck,” she repeated, shaking her head. “Crying like a fucking baby. Go on, baby, suck your thumb!” I looked at her for a moment, not sure what I heard. “I said, suck your thumb, baby!” I immediately thrust my thumb in my mouth, clear up to the first knuckle and began sucking.

“I’m going to be nice to you today,” she said, but I was sure she was going to be anything but. “I’m not going to lead you on. You’re not going to cum today.”

“Yeth, Ma’aa,” I mumbled, unable to speak clearly with my thumb in my mouth.

“Even if you get permission, even if one of the other cheerleaders orders you to cum, you are forbidden to do so. Understand? And take that thumb out of your mouth!”

“Yes, Ma’am, I understand,” I assured her. There was nothing else I could say, though I was concerned how I could obey her order if someone else told me to jerk off. Maybe, since she told me first, or maybe because she was in charge today, I could just explain it. Or not.

“Follow me,” she said, taking off at a brisk pace, leading me to her locker. She had me wait while she opened it, then exchanged her books for those she’d need for morning classes. “Follow me to first period, then disappear. Meet me back at my locker before lunch.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, taking my position a few steps behind her.

I barely had time, after depositing her books on her desk, to grab my own books from my locker and get to class. As it was, I walked in just as the tardy bell rang, and got a bit of a dirty look from the teacher.

When it was time for lunch, I raced to Jeanette’s locker, getting there just a few seconds before she did. I held her books while she opened her locker, then put them inside. She pulled something out and stuck it in her pocked, smiling at me. It wasn’t a “Hi, nice to see you” kind of smile, either.

I followed her into the cafeteria, helped her find a seat, and then she sent me off to get in line for her lunch. Fortunately for me, I was on the school lunch program, so I ate free. I’d be giving up my lunches from now on, though, perhaps snacking on something I’d brought from home, or if I had a bit of money, buying a bag of chips for myself. I got Jeanette’s lunch tray and brought it to her. All the other cheerleaders were sitting with her. She accepted the tray without a word, or even acknowledging my presence. I just stood there, not sure what to do. Several of the girls began to giggle.

“Go change into this,” she said, handing me the small object she’d taken from her locker. I held it in my hand for a moment before realizing it was a pair of pale pink girl’s panties. I looked up at her, dumbfounded. She expected me to run around in just a pair of pink panties? “Bring me your undershorts when you’re done.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, my face burning, wondering whether anyone else heard her.

I balled the tiny panties up and hurried off to the restroom, locked myself in a stall, and pulled my shoes and pants off. The panties barely fit; just a string in the back, it rode firmly in the crack of my ass. I put my trousers and shoes back on, balling my shorts up and hiding them in the ball of my fist. It wasn’t easy to keep hidden, because they had a lot more substance to them than the satiny panties. I returned to the table and held my balled-up hand out to Jeanette.

“No, stupid, in the middle of the table, and spread them out so we can all see!” Loud laughter erupted, turning a few heads, but once they saw it was the group of cheerleaders, nobody thought anything of it. I moved my shorts to the center of the table, spreading them out flat. None of the girls wanted to touch them, and nobody told me to remove them, so they just stayed there. Jeanette told me to go away, but report for punishment as usual.

I had Beth’s money in my pocket, but was worried about running out at the movies, so I didn’t get anything for lunch. I was hungry, but I couldn’t concern myself with that. My immediate worry was having to go to P.E. class wearing girl’s panties. I know I’d said before that it didn’t matter to me, that I craved the humiliation, but now that it was about to become reality, I was scared. I didn’t think I’d be able to actually go through with it, and began thinking of ways to avoid gym today.

I had two more afternoon classes before gym, and I couldn’t concentrate through either of them. In Algebra, we were working on motion problems, but the words just stared at me, not making any sense. It was a chapter test, the first time I’d flunked one. As bad as that was, Chemistry was worse. We were mixing caustic agents, and I came very close to mixing two ingredients wrong – adding water to acid, instead of the other way around. My lab partner caught me just as I was bring the beaker of water up, but the teacher also noticed, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me out of the classroom. She told me, in not so many words, to get my head out of my ass. All I could do was stammer an apology and make a lame excuse about being preoccupied. She didn’t accept that, of course, and told me I’d be serving detention. The only saving grace was that she saw the horrified look on my face, listened to my vague story about not being able to stay late today, and delayed my punishment until tomorrow. I knew that wasn’t the only punishment I’d receive, though.

It wasn’t until I was walking slowly towards the locker rooms that I saw Jeanette motioning me over to her. She handed me a paper lunch bag, and told me she’d decided having the other boys see me in panties wasn’t a good idea, at least not just yet. Inside were my shorts, and I hustled over to a restroom to change. I stuffed the pink panties in my pocket, then ran to gym class, again getting outside just as Coach was finishing taking attendance. I ended up doing pushups for being late – he wanted twenty five, but my arms gave out after eleven – with the promise that it would double next time.

Once again, I lingered in the locker room long enough to be the last one out. After yesterday’s rainstorm, I decided not to use the shrubs again, so instead, hid my street clothes underneath the liner in a trash can just outside the locker room door. The custodial crew always emptied it after lunch, so I was fairly certain my things would be safe. I wasn’t sure what to do about the panties, whether to wear them or just carry them. I decided that since I’d been told the only thing I could wear was my gym shorts – and I couldn’t afford to use another pair – I’d go naked once again.

Since Jeanette was in charge today, she came out to get me.

“Did you bring my panties?” she asked, looking down at my naked, kneeling body.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, opening my hand to reveal them.

“Well, we haven’t seen you model them yet, so don’t you think you should put them on?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered, quickly sliding the skimpy undergarment over my feet and pulling it up. Jeanette giggled when I turned around for her, hands on my head, displaying just the tiniest sliver of pink fabric in the crack of my ass. She made me crawl on just my knees this time, keeping my body erect in order to display the panties I was wearing.

“Guess what, slime? We have a special treat for you today, and a new job!” Dominique announced. Whatever it was, I knew it would be demeaning and disgusting.

“Yes, Ma’am?” I replied, trepidation evident in my voice.

“Carmen started her period this morning, and needs her tampon changed. Guess who’s job it is to take the old one out?”

“Mine, Ma’am?”

“And the bloody tampon goes to…slime!” she announced with a flair. “But we wouldn’t want you to get all excited looking at a real, live vagina, so put this on first,” she said, handing me one of those black sleeping masks. I slipped it over my head, covering my eyes. I heard movement and the sound of cloth against skin; Carmen must have been taking her panties off. She was one of three seniors on the squad, somewhat shorter and stockier than the other cheerleaders, but perfect for being the base in a pyramid. Carmen also had the largest knockers of any girl in school.

“Tilt your head back and open your mouth, worm,” I was told. I sensed Carmen standing over me, one foot on each side of my body. She squatted down over my mouth, and when the string was past my teeth, I was told to bite down. Carmen stood up, the tampon flew out with a soft plop and bounced off my cheek, finally dangling over my chin.

“Work it into your mouth, slut,” Dominique ordered. I gagged as I sucked and used my tongue to reel the nasty wad of cotton into my mouth, nearly vomiting when I was told to chew on it. The taste wasn’t all that awful – about the same as when you bite your own lip and draw blood – but knowing exactly where it came from made it terrible. I could feel the bile churning in my stomach, but forced a smile on my face, knowing that they’d want me to pretend to be enjoying it. I heard the sound of paper ripping – Carmen must be putting in a fresh tampon, I figured – and a minute later, my blindfold was removed.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue,” Susan said. She was holding a camera, and made me pose for several photos with the filthy tampon in my mouth. After taking five or six different shots, she nodded to Dominique.

“You may crawl over to the toilet and drop it in. Don’t expect this leniency forever, though. It won’t be long before you’re eating bloody tampons for your afternoon snack!”

I scurried over to the nearest toilet and spat the nasty thing out, the bile in my stomach very nearly following it. I don’t know what was worse, knowing I’d just chewed on a used tampon, or the thought that they were going to make me eat one. I knew I’d puke if that happened – I nearly did just now – but as vindictive as these bitches were, they’d probably make me eat that, too!

“What now, ladies?” Dominique asked.

“I want to see him jerk off again,” Roberta said.

“Nope, he doesn’t get to cum today,” Jeanette replied. “He’s already been told by me, and knows he’ll be punished if he disobeys.”

A cruel gleam suddenly appeared in Roberta’s eyes. “You ordered him not to cum, right? I wonder what he’ll do if I order him to go ahead and cum?”

“I don’t know,” Jeanette replied, “But if he disobeys my order, he gets 50 across the ass and ten directly on his dick.” She hadn’t mentioned strapping me on the dick before, but I knew right then I wasn’t going to disobey her.

“Well, I could offer a harsher punishment, but I’ll make it fair. Slime, I’m ordering you to jerk yourself off, right here, right now. You’ll cum on the floor, and when you’re through, you’ll lick it up. NOW!” she punctuated.

“Ma’am…respectfully, Ma’am, you’re ordering me to disobey a previous order, Ma’am.” I looked up at Dominique. “Ma’am, I beg for guidance, Ma’am.”

“Well, it seems you have a dilemma, don’t you, worm? I think you’re on your own, and have to accept responsibility for your decision,” she said, with more than a hint of cruelty in her voice.

I was stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. If I obeyed Roberta, I disobeyed Jeanette. If I obeyed Jeanette, I disobeyed Roberta. If I disobeyed either one, I would be punished, but I had to obey one of them. I wanted to have an orgasm so bad I could almost taste it. However, given my recent change in attitude, it didn’t take me long to realize that I needed to deny myself. I needed to prove my submissiveness, both to myself and the cheerleaders.

“Ma’am, respectfully, I must refuse your order, Ma’am,” I said, kneeling at Roberta’s feet. “I beg punishment, Ma’am.”

“Good. I was hoping you’d say that,” she answered. “And I happen to have brought just the thing to make sure you have a memorable punishment. Go crawl over to locker 116. Call out when you are there.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, crawling as fast as I could in search of that particular locker. They were numbered differently than in the boys’ room, so it took me a few minutes.

“Ma’am, I’m at locker 116!” I called out.

“Good. Open the locker and bring me the item inside it. Carry it in your mouth, but don’t you dare leave bite marks or saliva on it!”

After acknowledging her command, I opened the locker and found it to be empty except for a very wicked looking black leather riding crop. I began shaking immediately, knowing it was going to hurt a hell of a lot more than a belt. I wasn’t sure I would be able to stand 50 on my ass, let alone ten on my penis. I almost bolted right then; being found out was almost preferable to what was about to happen. I didn’t, though, and simply took the evil-looking thing in my mouth, pulling my lips in over my teeth so I didn’t mar the shiny leather surface, and scurried back on all fours.

I was ordered to bend over one of the commodes – my ass in the air, my face on the floor, my hands clasped behind my head. The panties were pulled down, exposing my already bruised ass cheeks. I laid there, anticipating the first slash of the crop across my ass, hearing the swishing sound as someone whipped it through the air.

“You’re going to get fifty,” Roberta announced. “You’re going to keep count, too. If you miscount, we start all over. If you miss one, we start all over. Understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied quietly, almost sobbing.

The first blow struck me before I could prepare. I screamed in pain, it hurt that bad.

“Okay, I guess that was a practice one, since you didn’t count!” Roberta proclaimed before laying into me again, one after another. I managed to keep count between the tears, finally reaching thirty, before she stopped for a quick breather. My ass was burning, and I thought I could feel blood seeping out of some of the welts she’d left.

“We still have to get to the movies,” I heard one of the girls say over my sobs. “I really don’t want to miss the beginning, so why don’t we finish this later?” There was a murmur of assent.

“Pull up your panties, fuckface, and get your ass out to my car!” Jeanette commanded. “You won’t be needing anything else! Don’t forget to grab your money first, because you’re taking us to the movies!”

I crawled out of the locker room, staying on my hands and knees until I was past the door. Retrieving my pants from the trash, I quickly pulled the money out of my wallet. Unsure what to do with the small wad, I rolled it up and stuffed it down the front of the panties. Not knowing how long they’d wait for me, or what would happen if I was late, I sprinted out past the tennis courts to the parking lot. Jeanette and five of the other girls were already waiting in the 1960 Buick her parents had handed down to her when she got her license. Dominique and the last cheerleader were standing next to her nearly-new MG convertible. Unlike most attending this middle-class neighborhood public school, Dominique’s family had money. In fact, her father was probably the wealthiest man in town. They laughed as I sprinted towards them in the waning light. I didn’t notice until afterwards that my balls had slipped out of the thin, translucent garment.

I stood next to the Buick, awaiting instructions, when I realized Jeanette was glaring angrily at me. I immediately dropped to my knees, mumbling an apology.

“You just can’t keep from fucking up, can you, slut?” Jeanette commented. “Crawl into the back seat and kneel on the floor. I’m sure the girls will find something to occupy your time.”

I did as I was told, finding myself crowded in among the bare legs and shoe-clad feet of my abusers. They’d all changed out of their practice outfits, and each now wore a short skirt or dress.

“I need a foot massage slave!” someone said, shoving a sandal-clad, sweaty foot in my face.

“Ma’am, may I please have the honor of pleasuring your feet with my mouth, Ma’am?” I asked submissively as the car started.

I spent the next 90 minutes licking, sucking and kissing the three pair of feet presented to me, never once wondering why it was taking so long to drive to the theater. There were only two movie houses in our little town, and the most distant was only eight or ten blocks from the school. It never even registered in my mind.

The car finally stopped, and after the three girls sitting above me got their shoes back on – not without feet, shoes and legs smashing against my face and head numerous times – the door was opened and I was unceremoniously shoved out onto the sidewalk.

Kneel!” Jeanette commanded, and for the first – but certainly not the last – time, I found myself kneeling nearly naked, wearing nothing but a skimpy pair of soiled panties.

I looked around quickly, while the girls were piling out of the car. We were on a dark, nearly-deserted and trash-strewn street, somewhere I wasn’t familiar with. Certainly another city, but which one? I didn’t have much time to ponder that question before I felt something heavy and metallic being slipped over my head. I looked up and saw Dominique attaching a pink leash to the choke collar she’d just put around my neck.

“Heel!” she commanded, quickly walking towards the run-down movie theater, forcing me to scramble behind her on my knees in order to keep from getting choked. I sensed, rather than actually saw, passers-by staring at the spectacle of a nearly naked teen being dragged across the sidewalk.

As it turned out, we were going to a once-nice, now seedy and run down movie theater that showed nothing but porn. I knew it was against the law for any of us to be in such a place, but that didn’t seem to stop anyone. Dominique pulled up in front of the ticket window and ordered me to stand.

“Eight, please. This one is going to stand and wait in the lobby for us,” she explained, nodding in my direction.

“That’ll be $68, please,” the teller – a rather trashy young woman in her twenties – told her.

“Pay her, slave,” she ordered me.

“Ma’am…I…I don’t have enough money, Ma’am,” I stammered, dropping back to my knees.

“What? I told you that you were taking us to the movies. You should have brought enough!”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, Ma’am. I thought…I mean…the matinee back home is like two dollars, Ma’am. I didn’t know we were coming here, Ma’am. I only have $35, Ma’am. That’s all I could get.”

“So what do you think we should do about this?” she asked, glaring at me. I looked up cautiously, noticing the cashier following the conversation.

“Ma’am, I don’t know, Ma’am. Perhaps there’s some why I could pay what I owe later, or maybe work it off, Ma’am?”

“That might be interesting,” she said thoughtfully. “Do you have work this pathetic worm could do in return for the – ” she calculated quickly ” – the additional $33?”

“I think we could arrange something,” she replied, a gleam in her eye, tearing off eight tickets and waving them through. “You just come inside and kneel under the counter,” she told me as Dominique dropped the leash on the ground.

It turned out she was sitting on a padded stool behind the counter, wearing jeans and sandals. The floor was strewn with cigarette butts, scraps of paper and wads of used chewing gum wrapped in little foil balls. She made me kneel in front of her as she slipped her canvas deck shoes off and stuck her bare feet in my face. Without socks, both her filthy shoes and sweaty feet stunk so bad that my eyes started to water.

“I think you know what to do,” she said, jerking on the leash and causing my head to snap back.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered, slathering her soiled feet with my tongue, grimacing at the acrid taste of her unwashed feet.

She kept me at that job for about twenty minutes, while several more groups came up to buy tickets, ordering me to stop only when it was time to close the ticket window. She led me inside, still on my knees at the end of the leash, showing me a janitorial closet containing rags, a broom, mop and bucket.

“You can start with the restrooms,” she instructed. “I want the mirrors spotless, the toilets, stall doors, walls and floor – everything spotless. Start in the ladies’ room, and I’d better not catch you fucking off, either!” she warned with a glare.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, holding my neck up so she could remove the leash. She let the collar dangle around my neck, telling me it looked appropriate, and that anyone would be able to tell I was nothing but a slave. I didn’t think it was possible, but I blushed again at the embarrassment.

The ladies room was filthy. Just like the ticket booth, there were cigarette butts and all manner of trash on the floor. The five toilets all had dark, black rings at the water line, and two hadn’t even been flushed. The mirrors and sinks were just as filthy, and after assessing the situation for a moment, decided I’d start at the top and work down.

I went to the janitorial closet and found some spray cleaner and paper towels, which I used to wipe the crud off the mirrors and walls behind the sink. The sinks themselves required a bit more, so I filled them with hot water and let them soak a few minutes before tackling that grime with scouring powder. While the sinks were filling, I flushed each of the toilets, sprinkling more scouring powder in each of them. One was clogged, though, and I went out in search of a plunger.

“Ma’am,” I asked the ticket-seller when I finally found her, “Is there a toilet plunger somewhere? One of the commodes in the ladies room is clogged.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” she spat back. “I’m not a fucking janitor! If you can’t find one, figure out something!”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, chagrined and more than a little worried about what would happen if I wasn’t able to get it unclogged.

I decided to not worry about it for the moment, and got to work on the filthy sinks. It was hard work, having to scrub and scrub each of the five sinks, and by the time I was done, my body was covered in a sheen of sweat. I sprayed everything down again with the liquid cleaner, buffing the mirrors, faucets and sinks to a high shine.

Now it was time to tackle the toilets. I decided to leave the clogged one for last. I was able to find a toilet brush behind a box of trash in the closet, so I used it to scrub out the toilets. Surprisingly, the black rings were relatively easy to get out; the stains in the bottom of the bowl and under the lip, though, were a different story altogether. It took me over an hour just to get the first four toilets done, and I still had the clogged one to do.

Sighing, I approached it with some trepidation. Using the toilet brush to fish most of the soggy, shit-covered paper out of the bowl, I flushed it once, only to have it overflow onto the floor. I noticed that there was something caught in the outlet, though, and taking a deep breath, I stuck my bare hand into the vile water, reaching down as far as I could, and pulling out a used sanitary napkin. When I realized what it was, I nearly threw it across the room, stopping only because of the chuckle I heard behind me.

“It’s been there for a couple of weeks,” the ticket-taker said. “At least, I think so. That’s when the clog happened. Okay, get the floor done quickly, it’s almost intermission time.”

Making quick work of the last toilet, I swept and mopped the floor as rapidly as I could, finishing just as the first movie ended. She had me kneel outside the two restroom doors while the small crowd of people started flowing in to relieve themselves. With the exception of the cheerleaders and a few couples, most were men, apparently here without dates. Everyone eyeballed me, a few with rather evil looks in their eyes, causing me to try to shrink and become invisible.

“Oh, dear,” my taskmaster said after the small crowd diminished, “It appears there’s a bit of a mess in the ladies room again.” She pointed for me to go back in.

While not as bad as before, it was a mess. This time, nobody had bothered to flush, and there were used paper towels and toilet paper strewn all over the room. Someone had even apparently pissed all over two of the toilet seats, though I was at a loss to figure out how a woman could do that except intentionally. Well, at least the mess was fresh, and all the dried, stuck-on filth had already been scrubbed off. It only took me about fifteen minutes to get the restroom sparkling – or as close to sparking as the dilapidated place could become.

It wasn’t until I entered the men’s room, though, that I truly understood what filth was. There were four urinals hanging on the wall, all of which were clogged and overflowing, cigarette butts and phlegm floating on top of the piss-stained water. The sinks were covered in grease and grime, and the two toilets were even worse. The first toilet was filled with diarrhea-consistency shit, but I could also see a glob of fresh semen dripping from the front of the bowl. As bad as that was, it was all I could do to keep from puking when I saw a maggot-laden turd inside the second, dry one. The odor, too, was causing my stomach to do flips. I was thankful I hadn’t eaten all day, knowing that I’d have added my own vomit to the filth if I had.

I had to get rid of the smell first, so I tentatively flushed the first, shit-filled toilet. As expected, it simply backed up and spilled over onto the floor, soaking my bare feet. I didn’t even bother to get out of the way, just taking my toilet brush and slopping the repulsive contents of the bowl onto the floor. I flushed again, and this time it worked, so I began to pick up what I’d dropped on the floor and drop a little in at a time, flushing repeatedly, until as much as I could get up was gone. I couldn’t get the shit out of the dry toilet with my brush, so I wadded up a few sheets of paper towel and lifted it out, dropping it into the good toilet before any of the maggots could crawl onto my hand.

Moving to the urinals, I flushed each several times, watching the piss-polluted water pour over the sides, taking with it most of the accumulated trash. Once the water was mostly clear, I could see that the clogs were caused by nothing more than paper and cigarette butts, which were easily removed. I had just finished scrubbing the first urinal, and was wiping it dry, when the door opened. I assumed it was my taskmaster (taskmistress?), but when I heard the deep voice, I knew I was wrong.

“Get out of the way, bitch, I gotta piss!” he said. I looked up and saw a huge black man, probably 6’5″ tall and nearly 300 pounds, standing over me. I scrambled out of the way, backing up to the wall. I couldn’t help but look as he fished out what was without a doubt the largest, and first uncut, cock I’d ever seen. He glanced over and saw me staring while he pissed in the just-cleaned urinal.

“Must look pretty yummy to a faggot like you, huh?” he said, a cruel smile on his face.

“Uh…no, Sir. I mean…you have a very nice penis, Sir. No, Sir, I’m not a faggot, Sir,” I stammered.

“Yeah, you are. You might not know it, but you are. If not a real faggot, then a sissy. Why else would you be cleaning a shithouse like this, wearing nothing but pink panties?” I was afraid of this man, afraid of what he could do to me, but he just put his cock away, zipped up, and left without even bothering to wash his hands.

There was nothing else I could do but continue my task. Nobody else came in, and just before the second feature ended, I was done. Both bathrooms were as clean as they’d probably been in decades, though nothing could take away the years of neglect the fixtures had seen.

I gathered my tools and set them on the floor, then took a minute to look at myself in the mirror. I was pathetic. Covered in sweat, filth and grime from the restroom, the panties now torn from I don’t know what. I smelled as bad as the toilets had, probably because half the contents were on me. I took a handful of paper towels and started to wash off, scrubbing my feet and lower legs first, since they’d been stepping in putrid shit and piss for several hours now, then repeatedly washing my hands in the hottest water I could stand. I didn’t feel clean at all, but it was a little better. I was putting the cleaning tools away when the girls came back out of the theater to collect me.

“Phew, you stink!” Susan said, wrinkling her nose.

“Yeah,” Jeanette parroted. “You’re certainly not going home in MY car!”

“What about the trunk?” Carmen asked. “He could ride in there, then afterwards, he can scrub the smell out. We can’t just leave him here. After all, how would he get back for the rest of his punishment?”

“Okay,” Jeanette said. “In the trunk, slut, and not a word out of you.” I nodded acknowledgment, climbing in and curling up in the reasonably large compartment, waiting while the lid was dropped shut.

During the ride home, I thought about all that had happened this day. I’d been beaten, forced to wear a girl’s panties, chewed on a tampon, been led like a pet dog by a leash, cleaned bathrooms, and displayed myself for the slave that I was apparently becoming. The memories, as humiliating as they were – or perhaps because they were so humiliating – caused my dick to become painfully hard. I reached down to gently stroke it, then stopped. None of my Mistresses had permitted me to play with myself, and one had expressly forbidden me from cumming. I was so horny at the moment, I couldn’t take the chance; I knew I’d explode at the first opportunity, so I just tried to curl up as comfortably as I could and sleep, the worn suspension of the car causing my body to bounce brutally against the floor with every bump we encountered.

The car eventually stopped. I heard one of the doors open, followed by the sound of the key in the trunk lock. The trunk lid popped open, and I peered out into the darkness.

“You’re getting out here,” Jeanette told me. “You can walk the rest of the way home, but first, I want my panties back.” She held out her hand and waited while I slipped them down and off my feet, then motioned me out of the car.

I quickly got my bearings and realized I was about a block from home, in the alley that ran behind our house. My own room was on this side of the house, too, so I was able to make my way home, climbing through my window without anyone seeing. I looked at my clock and saw that it was already 1:00 a.m. Without even wondering if my parents were angry, I climbed into my bed and was asleep in minutes, exhausted from the day’s events.

Sissy Stepdad

Chapter VII

I was awakened the next morning to a pounding on my door.

“Wake up! You’re going to be late for school!” my mother yelled.

Oh, shit! I looked over at the clock, and saw that I only had twenty minutes until the bell. Not enough time to eat, let alone get cleaned up.

“I’m up!” I replied, jumping out of bed and throwing my robe on, then opening the door. She didn’t appear angry, so maybe she wasn’t aware I was out so late.

“Hurry up, and I’ll drop you off!” she said, turning to walk back into the kitchen.

I knew I reeked of my own sweat and the filth from the toilets I’d cleaned, but there was no time for even the quickest of showers. I grabbed my deodorant from the top of my dresser – I’d moved all my hygiene items out of the bathroom in deference to my sister – and slapped some cologne on, in hopes that it would hide the noxious odors from others. I didn’t have any clean clothes, but my extra pair of jeans were quickly retrieved from the hamper. I managed to find a shirt that wasn’t too dirty or wrinkled, and threw it on just as Mom honked the car horn. I rushed outside to find she had a brown bag breakfast waiting for me. I gulped down the fried egg sandwich while she drove me to school, thankful that the smell of the eggs covered the stench from my own body from her.

“Thanks, Mom!” I said as she pulled up in front of the school to let me out. It wasn’t until then, when I saw Angela waiting with a scowl on her face, that I remembered. I hadn’t bought her any gifts, and I didn’t have any money to buy her anything now. I knew I was in trouble.

“Guess what, slut?” she asked, a malevolent grin on her face.

“I know, Ma’am. I don’t get to cum today, right, Ma’am?” I’m sure I sounded like I was about to cry.

“Bingo! Okay, take my books anyway,” she said, pointing to the pile on the sidewalk and walking off at a brisk pace. I picked them up and followed. We stopped at her locker, and I held her books while she opened it. Taking the books from my hands, she looked at me thoughtfully.

“Maybe I will let you cum today, I just don’t know,” she said. “Perhaps if you’re especially obedient…”

“Oh, yes, Ma’am. Whatever you’d like, Ma’am!” I replied, the eagerness evident in my voice.

“Okay, give me your undershirt, socks and shorts, right now!”

“Now, Ma’am? You want me to undress right here in the hallway, Ma’am?” I asked, shocked.

“No, you can go over into that doorway,” she said, pointing to the janitorial closet, which was set back from the hallway by about two feet. “Strip first, then put your shirt, shoes and pants back on – in that order. If you underthings aren’t on in my locker in two minutes, yesterday’s punishment will seem like a day at the park!”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied forlornly as she looked down at her watch.

Thankfully, class had already started and the hallway was deserted. I backed up to the inset door and quickly pulled my shirt over my head, simultaneously kicking off my shoes. My jeans and undershorts came off next. Twenty seconds later, I was re-dressed and my underclothes were in a pile on the floor. I picked them up and returned to Angela’s locker. She motioned for me to put them inside, and when I did, she shut and locked the door.

“One last thing. Kneel down and open your mouth,” she commanded. As I did so, she reached into her pocket and pulled out an object wrapped in a plastic sandwich bag. “I was really hoping not to have to do this, but we didn’t think you’d be here on time to help Carmen out, so she wanted you to have this,” she said. I looked up and saw her carefully holding a used tampon by her fingertips, even the string covered in menstrual blood. She dropped it in my mouth, then presented her fingers to me. I used my tongue to clean them off, barely successful in my attempt to keep from gagging as the nasty wad of cotton sat at the back of my throat.

“See you at lunch, slut!” she said over her shoulder as she sauntered off to her first class.

After running to the restroom and spitting the tampon into the toilet, I decided I’d better stop by the attendance office before going to class. My first hour teacher was a bit of a hard-ass about tardiness, and he’d probably be sending me there anyway. So I reported in as being late, got my tardy slip, and went to my civics class. As had been the last few days, my mind wasn’t into it, and the few questions I was asked resulted in stern looks from the teacher and giggles from the class. The rest of the morning classes went the same. Although I wasn’t late for any others, between the soreness of my ass and preoccupation with my overall situation, I might as well not have been in school at all.

Lunchtime found me delivering my cafeteria tray to Angela, then making repeated trips to the snack bar to fetch soft drinks and refills while the eight girls talked about classes, cheerleading, boyfriends – in short, about everything except me. It wasn’t until Angela motioned me to clear their table of empty trays and cups that she even acknowledged my presence.

“There’s a drug store two blocks down the street. You know which one I mean?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied. Of course I did, I walked by it every day.

“Go get me a pack of condoms,” she said, dropping two dollar bills on the tray. “Get as many as you can for that, and bring me back the change.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered, wondering why she’d want me to buy her some condoms, and hoping the answer was that I was going to lose my virginity to her. I figured it was a long shot, but what the hell, if you’re going to fantasize, fantasize big. Right?

So, after I dumped the trash and slid the trays through the dish window, I scurried off to the pharmacy. Now, back in the early 1960’s, rubbers weren’t out on the self-serve counter like they are today. Back then, you had to ask the Pharmacist for them. I admit to being more than just a little self-conscious as I walked towards the back of the store.

“Can I help you?” the Druggist – a woman, which again was unusual for that era – asked.

“Um…yes, Ma’am…I need…um….” I’m pretty sure my stammering was accompanied by a deep blush.

“Condoms?” she asked in a helpful voice.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered softly. “As many as I can get for two dollars, Ma’am, please.”

“You and your friends planning on a gang-bang?” she asked as she turned to the proper display. “Or do you just have a lot of girl friends?”

“Um…neither, Ma’am,” I replied, thinking quickly. “It’s…like, a joke for someone.”

“Oh, gonna blow them up and stick them in some girl’s locker, then? That happened to me, you know.” She turned back towards me, setting two three-packs down on the counter.

“Um, yes, Ma’am, something like that.

“Okay, well, I just want to warn you that we’ve had a lot of complaints about these particular rubbers. If you really are going to use them for sex, well, I wouldn’t, okay? They have a tendency to break.”

“Yes, Ma’am, thank you,” I replied, stuffing the condoms, receipt and a few pennies change in my pocket. I nearly ran out of the store, and believed I could feel her eyes following me, a grin on her face.

I got back to school just before the bell rang, but was unable to find Angela. She must already be in class, I thought, so I went off to mine. It was Algebra, the same class I’d messed up on the last exam in, and this time I was able to concentrate on my work, nearly forgetting the dull ache in my backside.

It wasn’t until gym that I remembered the beating my ass had taken the day before. Fortunately, I did remember that I wasn’t wearing any underwear, managed to get out of my previous class a few minutes early – by claiming I had diarrhea, which was the only excuse I could think of – and by the time my classmates arrived to dress out, I was already in my gym clothes. I’d completely forgotten about my bruised backside until I undressed for the shower. Strangely enough, it didn’t hurt at all, but much to the amusement of my classmates, my ass was covered with welts and deep purple bruises. I could no longer just laugh it off, either, so just hung my head and said something about my old man getting drunk and laying into me. In a few years, such a comment would have undoubtedly resulted in a visit by some social services agency, but back then, an ass-beating – and often enough any beating – was simply thought of as “parental discipline.”

I followed the same routine this particular afternoon as I had the previous few, lingering until I was the last one in the locker room, then after hiding my street clothes, knelt naked in front of the girl’s locker room door awaiting my orders. It was a cold, overcast day. Not rainy, but damp, and the chill in the air was a sign of the coming winter. Granted, winters on the central California coast aren’t exactly harsh, but I still found myself shivering uncontrollably. I waited and waited, unsure what I should do. I knew the janitors would be coming soon, and I couldn’t afford to get caught – no matter what my fantasies and dreams were. I had just about decided to leave when I heard familiar female voices approaching. Only they weren’t coming from inside the locker room.

“Oh, were you waiting for us, slag?” Mary asked with a laugh. “Debbie here got paid last night, and decided to treat us all to a nice, hot cup of cocoa over at Denny’s after class. We figured you wouldn’t mind waiting, right?”

“No, Ma’am, I don’t mind waiting, Ma’am,” I replied dutifully, my shivering even more pronounced now, seeing the eight girls all bundled up in warm jackets, two holding styrofoam cups with steam coming out of them.

“Well, we decided we’re not going to play tonight. At least not here. You can go home now, but be at Frankie’s Gym at seven tonight. You’ll wear your gym shorts and tennis shoes, nothing else.”

“Frankie’s Gym, yes, Ma’am.”

“Oh, one more thing,” she said, almost as an afterthought. “Except for your head – scalp, eyebrows and eyelashes – I don’t want to see any hair on your body when you get there. And bring your condoms.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied softly, my voice shaking.

“Good. See you then, hairless!” The girls all laughed at the joke, but all I could do was, once again, turn bright red.

Because they’d waited so long to come back, I had less than two hours to comply with their wishes. Retrieving my street clothes, I quickly pulled them on and ran the six blocks home. Beth was already there, but was busy watching television. She nodded absentmindedly when I asked if it was okay if I used the bathroom for a while.

I’d only recently started shaving, using a hand-me-down electric that my dad gave me. I didn’t have – or know how to use – a blade. I’m not sure a blade would have been easier, but I suppose clipping the major hair – not that I had much, except a tuft above my dick – with the electric, and then shaving with a blade would have been less painful. As it was, the electric not only tugged at the coarse, short hairs, but it took a lot longer than I expected. It was already 6:30 by the time I was able to climb into the shower and rinse off.

Mom and dad had gone out somewhere, so I didn’t have any problems getting out of the house wearing nearly nothing. The girls hadn’t told me I could wear street clothes and change at the gym, only what I was supposed to be wearing. I decided not to take the chance, and with just ten minutes to spare, dashed out of the house into the cold, damp and now dark evening. I ran as fast as I could; I had to, because Frankie’s was over a mile away. Like I said, I wasn’t much of an athlete, but my light weight helped me in this respect. Still, I was panting and out of breath by the time I arrived – just as the college clock tower bells began to toll. I made it just in time, but the gym was closed! I was trying to figure out what to do, when the door suddenly opened, and I was dragged inside by a strong hand on my arm.

The inside of the gym was dark, and I could barely see, but I could tell the person dragging me was a man.

“Stay,” he commanded, forcing me to my knees and leaving me there while he walked to the windows and pulled down the shades. When all the windows were covered, he flicked on the overhead lights, bathing the entire gym – and my shivering body – in harsh brightness. I looked up at him, a massive man with bulging muscles, as I trembled as much in fear as because of the cold.

“Stand. Kick off the shoes, shorts down at your ankles, hands clasped behind your head,” he commanded brusquely. I did as I was told, standing there scared out of my wits while he slowly circled me. I instinctively glanced downward, and saw that my dick was so shrunken it was barely visible.

“Squat. Knees apart,” he ordered next. He pushed down on my shoulders, forcing me even lower.

“People call me Bruno,” he said. “You, however, will call me, ‘Big Daddy, Sir.’ Got that?”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied. My response was immediately followed by a kick to my shoulder, knocking me forward onto the floor.

“The girls said you were stupid. Try it again. What’s my name to you?”

“Big Daddy, Sir.”

“Good. Now, get back up and into position.” I struggled to comply, my stomach doing flips now.

“They also said you were a scrawny fuck. Are you?”

“Yes, Big Daddy, Sir. I’m a scrawny fuck,” I replied submissively.

“They said they’re embarrassed to be seen with you, and want you bulked up some, so let me explain what’s going to happen. Tuesdays and Thursdays evenings after closing, and Sundays after you finish mowing lawns, you’re going to come here for training. Sometimes it will be just you and me, other times there will be other people here. In return for me spending my time training you, you’re going to do two things. First, we start out the workout with you giving me a nice blow job. Then, when we’re all done, you play janitor and clean the gym. Got it?”

“Yes, Big Daddy, Sir,” I answered. I knew I’d eventually be servicing men with my mouth – it was, after all, on my list – but like the other items, now that it was a reality, I wanted to run.

“Have you ever sucked a man off?” he asked.

“No, Big Daddy, Sir.”

“Ever had a blow job yourself?”

“No, Big Daddy, Sir,” I admitted softly, averting my eyes.

“Hmmm. No base of experience to go by, so I guess I’ll have to teach you.”

“Yes, Big Daddy, Sir.”

“You afraid?” he asked, with an almost concerned tone in his voice. I knew it didn’t matter whether I was scared out of my wits or not, I was going to end up with his cock in my mouth.

“Yes, Big Daddy, Sir,” I replied, my voice trembling.

“Don’t worry,” he said, patting me on the head like I was a pet. “It won’t be so bad. I won’t even make you swallow my cum this time, since you’re a virgin.”

“Thank you, Big Daddy, Sir,” I replied, actually somewhat relieved.

“Well, let’s get started then, shall we?” he asked. I knew it wasn’t a question, though. “Just leave your shorts on the floor.”

“Yes, Big Daddy, Sir,” I acknowledged, obeying as he motioned for me to stand and follow him.

He led me into a small, dingy office furnished with a desk, office chair, and a ratty, well-work couch, pointing to a spot on the floor in front of the couch. As I knelt there, I could see stains on the front edge of the seat – semen stains? I wondered. He stood between the couch and my kneeling form, his legs on either side of mine.

“Keep your hands clasped behind your head, and pull my pants down,” he instructed.

“Yes, Big Daddy, Sir,” I responded, lifting myself up off my heels so I was kneeling upright. He was wearing sweat pants and the waist tie wasn’t fastened, so all I had to do was grasp the hem with my teeth and gently tug, pulling them down first over one him and then switching sides to do the other, finally taking the very front in my mouth and pulling them down to his ankles. I was surprised – but shouldn’t have been – to discover a jock strap underneath the sweats. He was, after all, a fitness trainer, and wouldn’t exactly be wearing jeans and boxers for work.

I could smell a manly sort of cleanliness as my face moved close to his bare thighs, and was thankful that he’d apparently showered and changed into clean clothes. I could only imagine what he’d smell like after a workout, but somehow knew I’d find out for myself soon enough. The thought excited me, and I could feel myself growing erect.

I wasn’t sure how to get the jock strap off, but decided to use the same technique as I had with the sweats. First the left side and then the right, pulling the strap down over his hips. To my dismay, however, he had to turn around so I could pull the back down. His ass was covered with thick, curly hair – as I would later discover his whole body was – and I could smell the scent of his body even more strongly as I tugged, trying to hold my breath as much as possible.

With the top strap of his jock down over his hips, I returned to the front. There was only one way to do this, I knew, and taking a deep breath, I reached up and grabbed the top of the cock pouch – I didn’t know what else to call it – and pulling it as far out as I could, carefully jerked it down. I wasn’t able to avoid his cock, though, and it sprang up, bouncing off my cheek and striking me in the nose as soon as I had the garment down far enough. Blushing, I ignored it as much as possible, pulled the jock strap down to his ankles, and released it. I knelt there, my head down, face burning, not daring to look up.

“You’re blushing. How cute!” he said, causing my body to respond with an even deeper blush. “And you seem to be liking this,” he commented, tapping my now- hard cock with his foot. I couldn’t trust my voice, so I simply nodded my head shamefaced.

“Okay, just do whatever you think I might like,” he told me in a calm voice. “If I don’t like something, or if I want you to do something in particular, I’ll let you know.”

I would have thought that after all this, he’d be hard, but he wasn’t. His flaccid cock, which was even now twice the size of mine, drooped limply against his left thigh. I propped my hands on the couch on either side of his knees and carefully moved my face close. Like I said earlier, I could smell soapy cleanliness, but still there was a bit of manly scent about him. I rubbed my cheek against the inside of his thighs, slowly moving closer and closer, until my eyes were mere inches from his cock. I studied it carefully, noting its symmetrical head, the tiny slit staring at me. I half-imagined it to be a snake, ready to strike. I noted the blood vessels, like little tubes, or maybe worms under the skin, slithering to and fro. The follicles covering his balls – his entire pubic region – with a thick coating of curly hair. I nuzzled those balls, too, feeling their fur coating scratch my face, inhaling their not unpleasant odor. I moved my head slightly, allowing my lips to contact his now-hardening shaft. I kissed the underside gently, moving from base to tip, my lips moving like those of a goldfish, softly opening and closing as I lightly brushed them against him. I ran my tongue around the contour of his dickhead, licking ever so lightly under the ridge of his circumcision. I took it into my mouth, grasping him with my lips and feeling his penis pulsate ever so slightly. I began to suck gently, just the head in my mouth, my lips locked at the top of his shaft, and was rewarded with a low moan and the feeling of his hands on the back of my head.

At his urging, I slowly began taking more and more into my mouth, the feel of his throbbing cock causing my own to react. He slowly forced my head forward until my nose was mashed into his belly, then pulled back slightly as my gag reflex began to activate.

“Relax. Breathe through your nose,” he told me calmly, then applied more pressure to my head, forcing me to engulf him fully once more. Three times he released me, then forced me back down, until I was able to overcome my fear of choking. Slowly, he began fucking my face – that’s the only way I can describe it – his hands forcing my head forward and back, impaling my throat and then pulling nearly completely out of my mouth. He quickened his pace, not forcing me as far forward now, concentrating on the top third of his cock, making me suck forcefully on the head.

“I’m going to cum!,” he announced, releasing my head. “You don’t have to swallow.”

I responded by leaning as far forward as I could, taking him as deeply into my throat as possible and massaging his cock with my tongue. I sucked harder than I ever had before, feeling his penis start to pulsate even more, until a few seconds later, I was rewarded with a forceful blast of semen hitting the back of my throat. I coughed in surprise, but kept my lips sealed around his member, swallowing as fast as I could while he spurted into me. As the spurts slowed down and became less forceful, I became aware of the fact that I, too, had managed an orgasm – without even touching myself. I opened my mouth began gulping down fresh air, both of us panting in the otherwise quiet room.

“That was phenomenal,” he said. “You’re sure you’ve never sucked cock before?”

“No, Big Daddy, Sir,” I gasped, still trying to catch my breath and wiping a bit of cum from my cheek.

“Damn. I’ve never met anyone who was able to deep throat the first time!”

“Was that what I was doing, Sir? I mean, I’ve heard of that, but never knew what it meant.”

“Yes, that’s what you were doing,” he said, grinning down at me. “It seems I wasn’t the only one who had a good time, either,” pointing at the puddle of semen on the floor. “Don’t you think you should clean that up?”

I started to bend over, thinking that he expected me to lick my own cum off the floor, but he stopped me.

“No, I meant with a towel or something,” he said. “But if you want to use your tongue, that’s okay too. The girls did say you were submissive.”

“Big Daddy, Sir, I really would prefer to use a towel, Sir, if you don’t mind.” He reached behind him and took one that was draped over the back of the couch, tossing it down to me. I quickly wiped up my mess, then knelt there awaiting further instructions while he got dressed.

“Okay, let’s go get you started,” he said, motioning me to follow him out to the exercise floor.

I have to admit that I was pathetic that first night. He took me around to each piece of equipment, showed me how to use it, and then we found out how much my maximum weight on each exercise would be. Bruno said he’d never seen anyone as out of shape as me, except for fatties. I was only able to curl 10 pounds, and bench press 30. He had me do pushups – perfect pushups, not the kind I’d been able to get away with in class – and my arms collapsed after four. The same with sit-ups, though I managed 12 of those. In the end, he set me up with a program of light weights with high reps to start with. Making sure I understood each of the exercises I was supposed to do, he then set me to work.

I had just finished cleaning the toilets and was mopping the floor in the women’s locker room when the girls showed up.

“No, this won’t do at all,” sixteen year old Angela said. “You’re improperly dressed to be a cleaning maid.” I stopped and began to remove my shorts, figuring they wanted me naked.

“No, no, no, silly boy,” she said. “You need to put THIS on!” She reached into an unlocked locker and pulled out a grey cotton dress. “Maybe if you’re good enough, you’ll eventually promote to something nicer, like a French maid’s costume!” They all laughed while I slipped the frumpy garment over my head, then continued to make crude and humiliating comments about me while I finished my work.

“Did you bring your condoms, boy?” Mary asked when I was finally done.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied.

“Good. Strip, go get one, then bring it back here,” she ordered.

“Yes, Ma’am.” My mind was rushing as I thought of all the things that could happen here. Maybe I was going to get to fuck one of them…or rather, one of them was going to fuck me! Staying on all fours, I crawled as fast as I could back to Bruno’s office, where I’d dropped them. Ripping the box open, I grabbed a single rubber and rushed back to the women’s room.

“Put it on,” Mary’s twin, Susan, ordered.

“Yes, Ma’am!” I answered excitedly, ripping the package open and carefully slipping the sheath over my erection. I knelt there, anticipating, my eyes moving from one cheerleader to the next.

“You may now show us how you pleasure yourself,” she said.

“Ma’am?” I said, confused.

“None of us have ever seen a boy jack off, so do it!” she explained.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, dejection apparent in my voice.

“Oh, did you think one of us was going to let you stick that nasty thing in her?” Angela laughed. “Sorry, little boy. We only fuck men.”

Dejected, I reached down and began masturbating for them, keeping my legs spread as they demanded so everything was visible. During my humiliation, they ordered me to tweak my nipples, change hands, even suck on my finger and stick it up my ass. It was in that position – my right hand wrapped around my cock, my left index finger up my ass – I was in when my balls finally emptied into the condom.

“Not much there,” Dominique commented. “Have you been disobeying us?” she asked, her hand grasping my chin, forcing my head to look up into her eyes.

“Ma’am…no, Ma’am, but when Big Daddy, Sir, made me suck him off, Ma’am, when he came, so did I, Ma’am,” I stammered.

“‘Big Daddy, Sir?’ Where did that come from?”

“Ma’am…Bruno, he said I was to call him ‘Big Daddy, Sir,’ Ma’am.” The girls all laughed at that one.

“Okay, I guess a slut like you couldn’t help it. Swallowing cum must be something that turns you on, right?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied. I knew better than to say otherwise, and wasn’t all that sure it wasn’t a fact anyway.

“Okay, one more thing and you’re done for the night. Carmen needs her tampon changed again.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered, holding my head still so she could put the blindfold on. I waited while Carmen got in position over me, then feeling her thighs against my face, I stuck my tongue out and moved it around until I found the string. Clamping my teeth down, I tugged gently until it fell out, landing directly on my lips. I opened my mouth and let it fall inside.

“Chew, chew, chew!” I heard Dominique’s voice say. “Yummy!” I did as she ordered, feeling the sogginess squish between my molars as I chewed, swallowing the vaginal blood that was squeezed out of it.

“Keep the tampon in your mouth and the condom on your dick until you get home. Once you’re there, you can dispose of the tampon. Take the condom off without losing the contents, tie it closed, and bring it to school tomorrow. Understand?”

I nodded, afraid to open my mouth for fear the tampon would fall out.

“Susan is in charge of you tomorrow,” was the last thing I was told before the girls walked out, leaving me alone in the darkened gym.

Sissy Stepdad

Chapter VIII

I reported to school the following morning wearing what would become my typical daily school attire: slacks, shirt and shoes. No underwear or socks, though on occasion the girls would have me wear panties and girls= stockings. The reason I went without underwear is the phone call I received just before leaving for school.

AHello?@ I said, when my sister handed me the phone, a quizzical look on her face.

ADress exactly like you were during school yesterday,@ Susan=s voice said. ABring your used condom. Oh, and pick me up two glazed donuts and a large coffee.@ She hung up before I could reply.

AWhat was that?@ Beth asked.

AUm…just someone from school. Some information I=ve been waiting for.@

AOh, like answers for a test or something?@ she said, cocking her eyebrow.

AOr something,@ I replied, cryptically, heading back to my room to shed my underwear.

After all my expenses of the last week, I was nearly broke, but managed to scrounge my room for enough change to buy Susan her breakfast. I was already running late, so in order to get everything and be waiting for Susan when she showed up, I decided to ride my bike. Making a quick stop at Dunkin= Donuts, I rushed to school, parked my bike and managed to be waiting on the front steps just as Susan arrived. I presented her with what I had assumed would be her breakfast. She took the coffee and one of the donuts, handing the other back to me.

AI don=t think this one has enough glaze on it,@ she commented. AWhy don=t you take your condom out and spread the contents over it?@ It wasn=t a question, but an order.

I looked around furtively before reaching into my pocket and retrieving the used condom. I=d tied the open end so tightly that it would have been impossible to untie, so I did the only thing I could think of. Using my teeth, I bit the tip of the reservoir end off and, using it like a pastry bag, squirted the congealed semen over the top of the donut. I had a feeling Susan wasn=t going to be the one consuming this particular donut, but I held it out to her anyway.

ANo, I still don=t think it has enough >glaze= on it. Why don=t you just hold on to it until we can figure out just how to cover it with more of that sticky stuff you love so much? You do love it, don=t you?@ she asked with a cocked head, daring me to disagree.

AYes, Ma=am. I=d rather eat it than anything else in the whole world,@ I answered, forcing a stupid smile on my face.

AWell, that=s good, because guess what you=re having for lunch today? A stale, cum-glazed donut! Doesn=t that just sound yummy?@

AOh, yes, Ma=am!@ I answered dutifully, maintaining the forced grin.

AWell?@ she said, standing there staring at me. ADon=t you think you should be offering to take my books?@

AYes, Ma=am. I=m sorry, Ma=am. May I carry your books for you, Ma=am?@ I held out my hands.

AStop! I don=t want my books to get that nasty stuff on them!@ she said, pointing to the donut in my hand. AI think you should hold it in your mouth. Don=t bite, though. Just hold it there so your hands are free for my books.@

AYeth, Ma=aa,@ balancing the semen-covered donut between my pursed lips while she piled her binder, History, Math, Literature and Biology books on my arms. I felt a glob of cum dribble over my lips and down my chin, unable to do anything about it. I followed Susan to her locker, then to her first period class. I barely had time to retrieve my own books, dropping the donut off in my locker, before the bell rang.

It was again useless for me to bother attending class that morning. I couldn=t concentrate, and my mind was going a mile a minute. I went through the motions, pretending to be paying attention, when I was actually thinking about everything that had happened to me so far, and what might yet happen. Just before lunch, my thoughts turned to what I was going to eat, and I immediately spouted a boner which was unrestrained by my lack of undershorts. I sat in the front row, and knew my teacher saw it. Miss Abernathy was new, in her first year of teaching English, just barely out of college herself and just a few years older than her students. She kept glancing towards me, then averting her eyes, but I knew she saw it. She probably figured I was fantasizing about her, but I wasn=t. I was thinking about being humiliated again; about how I would soon be eating that cum-covered donut, wondering whether I=d be disposing of any tampons this evening. The tampon thing – that was the most disgusting, humiliating thing I=d been subjected to thus far, and therefore, the most exciting. They=d threatened to make me eat one, too, I remembered. I still wasn=t sure I=d be able to do that; it was everything I could do not to vomit every time I had one of those nasty things in my mouth anyway.

Lunch finally arrived, and I rushed to the cafeteria to claim my meal. After offering the tray to Susan, I was dismissed to go retrieve my own lunch. A few moments later and I was standing next to their table again, holding the donut out for inspection.

ANo, I don=t think so,@ the redheaded Roberta said. ACome with me,@ she ordered, getting up from the table and leading me off, motioning for Carmen to follow. They took my donut and went into the girl=s bathroom, leaving me standing outside the door. About five minutes later, they returned, giggling as they had me follow them back to the table. The eight girls left me standing there while they whispered to each other, grins and giggles following the hushed words. Finally, Roberta looked up at me, a sadistic smile on her face.

AHere you go, puppy. Eat up!@ She placed a sandwich bag on the table and slid it over to me. I looked down in horror at its disgusting contents: Carmen=s latest used tampon piercing my donut like Cupid=s arrow, which was decorated with a wet, slimy turd. The look on my face caused a sudden outburst of laughter, but all I heard was a rushing noise as my world went black.

I found myself looking up from the floor a few minutes later, a crowd of students around me, staring down. I was being attended to by the school nurse, the back of my head aching from striking the edge of the table as I fell. I was helped into a wheel chair and taken to the nurse=s office. I told the nurse I couldn=t remember anything, just that I=d suddenly felt faint and must have passed out. She checked me out and determined that I probably didn=t have a concussion, but called my mom and recommended I see our family physician anyway, just as a precaution. I waited in the nurse=s office until she picked me up.

AWhat happened, honey?@ she asked with a concerned tone in her voice.

AI=m okay, Mom,@ I reassured her. AI probably shouldn=t have skipped breakfast this morning. I just fainted, I guess.@ I hated lying to her, but I couldn=t very well tell the truth, could I? AGee, Mom…these girls at school were going to make me eat a cum-saturated, piss covered donut. Oh, and by the way, there was a bloody tampon inside it, too.@ Yeah, right.

AWell, let=s go home and let you lie down. I=ll get you some soup or something, okay?@

AThat sounds fine, Mom,@ I replied, forcing a happy look on my face.

As we left, I could see the girls waiting on the front steps. To anyone else, it would appear they were just there, hanging out. I knew better, particularly when Susan held up the sandwich bag with its disgusting contents, then pointed at me and licked her lips. Dominique, too, let me know I was going to be punished for this; she took the doubled-over belt in her hand and menacingly slapped her own palm while glaring at me. I had no doubt that I was in major trouble, and would be paying for it soon enough.

I stayed home from school the following day, but all that did was exacerbate the fears of my impending punishment. I had an appointment with our family physician that day, and he pronounced me healthy and fit, but advised me to be careful and report any dizziness or unexplained headaches. I=m just glad he didn=t conduct a full physical, because I=m sure he would have told my parents about my shaved, hairless body and the welts still visible on my ass.

It wasn=t until late that afternoon that I got the phone call I=d been dreading. I=d hoped they would have just left me alone for the day, but that wasn=t to be. It was Dominique, reminding me that I had an appointment at the gym that evening, and warning me not to be late.

AYou=ve already earned more punishment than you can possibly handle, so I=m sure you don=t want to add to that,@ she admonished. ABy the way, you=ll be working out and doing your chores naked tonight, as part of your punishment. You can wear your gym shorts to and from the gym, but that=s all.@ There was a click as she hung up the phone.

I paced around my room in mental agony the rest of the day, pausing only to have a mindless dinner with my family. Everyone could see I was preoccupied, which my parents wrote off as worry about the lab tests the doctor had ordered, the results of which would be back in a day or two. That wasn=t the truth, of course. I was worried about what was happening to my life. I needed this downward spiral to stop – or was it that I needed it to continue? I was so confused at this point All I knew was whether or not I showed up at the gym, things would only get worse for me. The question was, which Aworse@ did I want more?

That question answered itself shortly after dinner, when, without really thinking about it, I found myself in the shower, carefully shaving the stubble from my legs and pubic area. Pubic area? More like public area, I thought wryly to myself. After all the viewing my cock had received lately, that part of my body certainly couldn=t be referred to as Amy private parts,@ could it?

Just before eight o=clock – closing time for the gym – I donned my gym trunks, quietly climbed out my bedroom window, and carefully made my way through the darkened streets to the gym. Furtively looking around, I quietly tapped on the shaded glass door.

ALoose the shorts and get your sissy ass in here!@ Dominique spat quietly. AOn your knees, slug!@

I was quick to obey, dropping to the ground and crawling inside the building just as she slipped the choke chain around my neck again. As she led me across the room, I could hear an angry voice, punctuated by loud slapping sounds and followed by deep sobs. Our destination was a small anteroom just off the main gym floor. There I found Big Daddy, Sir and another man. The sobs were coming from the other person, a somewhat fat, naked man of about 40 years, who was bound immobile over some sort of a rack, his hairy ass covered with welts and bloody stripes. He was crying uncontrollably as Big Daddy, Sir – Bruno – repeatedly beat him with a wicked-looking bamboo rod. Bruno, also naked, was covered in a light sheen of perspiration. Underneath his victim was a pool of yellow fluid; sometime during the beating, he=d apparently lost control of his bladder. At the moment, Bruno was actually standing in the puddle, screaming at him for daring to dirty his floor. After giving his victim another half-dozen stripes, he finally realized I was there.

AGood,@ he said breathlessly, lowering his hand and walking away from the man he=d been torturing, shuffling his feet through the puddle of urine. ATeaching these assholes not to welch on a loan is hard work, but it has to be done. But now that you=re here, I can take a break,@ he said, stepping back and dropping the wooden chair leaning against the wall. The first thing you can do is clean my feet.@

I hesitated only a half-second, but long enough to be rewarded with a painful yank which momentarily tightened the choke chain around my neck. My path to Bruno took me directly through the increasingly larger puddle of piss as the bound man=s bladder let loose again, splashing my legs. What I didn=t see – and would find out about only months later – was the entrance of one of the other cheerleaders and the 8 millimeter movie camera she held.

I approached Bruno with some trepidation, though I did my best to hide it. I knew instinctively that the appearance of eager obedience would be pleasing to my abusers, and just might result in lesser punishment. I knew Dominique was already pissed at me, and I needed to do whatever I could to assuage that anger.

I knew from my previous encounter that Bruno was generally quite fastidious about his hygiene, but his feet this day were filthy. Certainly, some of it was from the drops of urine that clung to his skin, but underneath that was a film of grime. As my tongue snaked out to touch his sole, I could feel the grittiness of the dirt collected there. Feigning a wide smile for my Mistress, I began lapping at Bruno=s filthy feet with gusto. First licking from heel to ball, then sliding my tongue between his soiled toes, finally taking each one into my mouth and gently sucking on it, circling my tongue over the top, and then repeating it on the other foot, until he was satisfied.

AArmpits,@ he then commanded, something I hadn=t expected, but nonetheless obeyed. The way he was sitting, with his hands clasped behind his head, caused me to raise up on my haunches slightly so that I could reach my target. His underarms, like the rest of his body, were covered in a tangle of thick, black hair, droplets of sweat attached to them like morning dew on leaves. I was surprised how repugnant this particular act was to me. After all, I=d already sucked piss from his feet and chewed on bloody tampons, not to mention taken his cock in my mouth. This, however, seemed even more obscenely humiliating to me. Things would soon get worse.

AEnough!@ he finally said, knocking me to one side with a cuff to the head. ATime to teach Mister Welcher the rest of his lesson.@ He stood up and walked to the front of his victim, then commanded me to crawl to him.

ASuck me,@ he ordered. AGet me hard, so this piece of shit can get a good look at what=s going up his ass next!@

The bound man looked up in disbelief and began to blubber incoherently. Bruno responded by raising a foot and kicking him in the side of the head, ordering him to shut up. When the man continued to cry and moan, Bruno had Dominique take the man=s undershorts, wipe them through the puddle of piss, and then stuff them in his mouth as a gag. She used his own belt to hold the gag in place, wrapping it around his head and tying it behind his neck. The victim=s eyes bulged out as he watched Bruno=s cock grow under my ministrations. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost, but not quite. Of course, I=d have been scared, too, if I knew I was going to get a nine inch tree trunk shoved up my ass.

Once Bruno was fully erect, he had me roll onto my back and slither under his victim. I had to slosh through the puddle of piss, which saturated my backside, but I quickly found myself with my mouth positioned directly under the man=s shrunken penis. I watched from my worm=s-eye viewpoint as Bruno=s cockhead pushed at the man=s asshole, seeing him tense up as his abuser uncompromisingly gave one huge shove and quickly penetrated his until-then virgin passage. It didn=t surprise me to see his cock begin to harden; I recalled reading somewhere about prostate massage or something causing a similar reaction, and this guy was certainly getting his prostate massaged! I knew what Bruno expected of me, so I lifted my head up and took the bound man=s dick in my mouth, sucking and licking at it while Bruno savagely fucked him from behind.

They both came at about the same time, though I could say for certain whether Bruno=s orgasm set off his victims, or whether the spasms his victim made as he shot off into my mouth caused Bruno=s. It didn=t really matter, as all three of us were covered in sweat and piss, breathing heavily. The only person who hadn=t cum was me; my cock quivered above my belly, and I hoped upon hope that Bruno=s next command would be for the man bound above me to lower his mouth on it. That was not to happen, however.

AGet up here and clean me off. No towel this time,@ he said with a gleam in his eye. AUse your mouth.@

I shuffled out from under the other man=s body and knelt submissively in front of Bruno. Semen dripped from his cock, but I could also see – and smell – remnants of the other man=s ass on it. Taking a deep breath, I opened my mouth widely and impaled myself on his cock. I knew if I tried it any other way – tentative licking, for example – I=d never be able to accomplish the task. As it was, the acrid shit assaulted my taste buds immediately, causing me to wretch slightly. Bruno responded by simply grabbing my head and forcing me down even further into his crotch. I began slathering him with my own saliva, hoping to wash the taste of shit from his cock – and my mouth – as quickly as possible. The one thing I was coherent enough to be thankful for was that Bruno wasn=t getting hard while I sucked and licked; the last thing I wanted to do right now was take another load of semen down my throat. Finally, he was satisfied with my work, and pushed me away.

AYou know, they say ass-to-mouth is the sign of a true slut,@ I heard Dominique state. ABut what do you call a person who takes someone else=s ass-to-mouth?@

AA shit-eating, cock sucking sissy faggot?@ Bruno responded with a laugh.

AProbably, but there=s one title my bitch still has to earn tonight.@

AWhat=s that?@ he asked.

AAss sucker,@ she answered nonchalantly. I looked up at her in not-quite-disbelief. By now, I knew she was capable of much more than I=d ever imagined, and realized that some of the things on my list were weak compared to what she could do. She pointed, and I looked over at the other man, still bound, cum dripping from his red, swollen asshole.

ADinner time, boy. Get to it!@

I guess I was becoming better trained to obey by now, because there was no hesitation at all as I crawled up behind him and locked my lips around his still-open asshole, sucking and lapping up the shit, cum and blood. He squirmed under me, but whether from pleasure or disgust, I couldn=t tell. It didn=t matter; I had been given an order, and was going to complete my task. Licking around the periphery of his rectum and down his thigh where a long trail of semen had dripped, I then reached my tongue as deeply into his ass as I could. The hair on his ass cheeks ticked my face and clogged my nose, and more than a few even got caught in my throat as I licked and sucked. I even licked his perineum, and found a little cum on his balls, which I lapped up before taking a careful inspection tour, visually checking to ensure everything was clean.

AYou done, sissy?@

AYes, Big Daddy, Sir,@ I replied.

AOkay, Dominique will take you on your workout tonight.@

AYes, Big Daddy, Sir,@ I answered, turning my body to face my Mistress, then following her out into the main gym as she led me by the leash.

Dominique was a grueling trainer, though in a different way than Bruno. With Bruno, it was mostly resistance training. Dominique apparently liked cardio more, so I spent an hour on a stationary bicycle, during which I managed to bike just 15 miles. It wasn=t so much that I wasn=t in shape, but that I had no endurance. She insisted that I keep my pace at 90 revolutions per minute, and every time she noticed I=d dropped below that, she=d use Bruno=s bamboo switch on my back, legs or belly – and twice directly on my dick. It was a pretty good motivator.

Once my workout was done, it was time to perform my other duties, namely, being the gym=s unpaid janitor. After I=d finished cleaning the toilets, showers and locker rooms, she asked me if I=d brought my condoms.

ANo, Ma=am,@ I replied.

AToo bad for you, then. I guess you don=t get to jack off tonight. Now, go get your shorts, wipe up the piss from the floor, and get your sissy ass out of here. Be waiting on the back porch of my house a half hour before school, and bring me a yogurt cup with fresh fruit for my breakfast.@

I wasn=t sure what she meant by wipe up the piss; did she want me to use my shorts, or a cleaning rag? I only knew I didn=t want to piss her off any more than she already was, so I grabbed my shorts, ran back into the small anteroom and sopped the urine up with them. My choice then was to go home naked, or wear clothes saturated in someone else=s piss. Perhaps wet shorts wouldn=t be noticed, however, the fact that I was walking home stark naked certainly would, even in the dark. As disgusting as it was, I slipped the wet bottoms on and made my way home in the dark, rinsing them out in the bathroom sink and laying them out to dry.

Sissy Stepdad

Chapter IX

When I woke up the following morning, the first thing I did was make sure I had a couple of condoms in my pocket. After last night’s disappointment, I made a vow to myself to never be without them. Since I would never know when the girls would permit me to jack off, I needed to be prepared at all times.

As much as I=m sure you=d like me to continue relating my day-to-day activities in servitude to the eight cheerleaders, truth be told, I can=t remember much beyond that first week except a few major events. Suffice it to say that the rest of the semester was pretty much a repeat of the first week, with a few changes from time to time. I reported for punishment after school each day, which sometimes resulted in another whipping but often enough ended up being something else.

They made me keep my used condoms, numbering each one and keeping a log describing the exact circumstances, in lurid detail, including when, where, how, and who was present to watch. I was usually permitted to cum a couple of times a week, though several times I was forced to wait as long as three weeks. Sometimes they made me jerk off six or seven times in just a few hours, after which my cock would be raw and sore for days. But it was the extended periods without relief that were the worst. Waiting more than a week was nearly impossible for me, and twice I had to report that I=d had wet dreams the night before. I wasn’t permitted to bathe when that happened, but made to wear the dried cum on my legs all day long. Then, during my afternoon punishment session, they=d have me scrape the flakes from my body and eat them.

Punishment slowly changed from physical pain to more of the humiliation I craved. I still get aroused when I think of the time they made me participate in a practice session out on the empty football field one afternoon. The story went out that I=d made the claim that cheerleading wasn’t a true sport, and that anyone could do it. The girls had put me on the spot and said that if I could make it through one practice, I=d get to have sex with any one of them that I wanted. If I failed, though, I=d have to be their slave for a week. With an audience of about 50 of my classmates watching, I failed, of course. Not that I would have been able to succeed anyway, but it was predetermined exactly when I=d collapse. The next step in my humiliation and subjugation was about to begin. Now the girls could take it public, to some extent.

I spent the next five school days wearing a cheerleader=s uniform, complete with makeup, wig and an oversized brassiere holding the water balloons that substituted for a set of 44DD tits. I was the butt of jokes from students and faculty alike, nearly every one about how cute I looked, or that wearing girls= clothes suited me.

After that week, it was no surprise when I was told I=d be going to the school=s Halloween party dressed up like a hooker. It was Debbie=s idea, though several of the other girls wanted me to be a French maid and wait on them during the dance. Instead, with Monique herself slathering makeup on my face, I was provided with a black leather mini-skirt and matching halter top, a pair of 6″ spiked heel shoes, and fishnet stockings. Because it was a school function, I couldn’t go without underwear, so they put me in a men’s black string thing, with sort of a sack in front and a tiny strip of elastic that fit deeply in my ass crack. It was the closest thing to a g-string for men I’d ever seen. While I wasn’t used for sex that night, I did have to walk mincingly from table to table, offering my body to everyone just like a real prostitute. Everyone laughed; I=m sure most thought I was just trying to be funny, but I=m sure some knew otherwise.

Things got more intense after Halloween, too. One time they made me order a male blow-up sex doll through the mail (thank God those things weren’t available any other way back than), which I then had to take out on regular Adates.@ I would often find myself at the drive-in theater, in the back seat of one of the older cheerleaders= cars, dressed up like a girl, while my Adate@ would be sitting quietly in my only good suit. While the girls up front would ostensibly be watching the movie, I=d be Anecking@ with my date, making appropriate girlish noises, eventually sucking Ahis@ cock. The girls would even douse him in after shave, just to make it more Arealistic,@ they said. They even made me call him, “Lover Boy,” and when I talked to him, I had to myself “horny bitch.” I had to make sweet talk on all our dates, too, nuzzling his ear and whispering how badly I needed his cock. The girls, of course, made sure this was all recorded. At one point, they even discussed having me take “him” to the prom as my date.

They actually gave me some time off during winter break, which was still called Christmas vacation back then. Other than my thrice-weekly visits to the gym, I had no responsibilities unless one of them called, and that only happened twice. I started enjoying my time at the gym – the workouts, that is, though the other part was pretty good too – and began taking fitness seriously. I even started running on the days I wasn’t in the gym, first a half mile on the school track, and eventually up two four or five miles at a stretch. I could see the results in my body; no longer was I a skinny and bony, but there were muscles visible, too. By the end of the semester, I was able to show Coach that I could do 50 consecutive pushups, and I even got an A in Physical Education for the first time in my life. I couldn’t swear to it, but I think my dick got longer, too. Maybe that was just normal growth, though. Or maybe it was the fact that, while I still sucked Bruno off before each workout, I wasn’t permitted my own relief until school resumed.

Things really changed for me when spring semester began. Not only was I no longer taking P.E., but my afternoon punishment sessions went by the wayside. Now, this was a good thing – bad thing for me. The good thing was I no longer worried about getting caught with welts on my ass; the bad thing was the girls didn’t worry about it, either. The only thing that mattered was what things looked like on the outside. Nobody would see that I was wearing lace panties, or stockings and a garter belt, or that my ass was bruised purple or had whip marks on it. Counting me, there were only ten people in the world who knew that my toenails were constantly painted a bright pink, or that I usually had an overly large butt plug crammed up my ass.

There were other changes, too. The nights that I didn’t have to be at the gym, I was busy doing the girls= homework over at Carmen=s house. It was just her and her mom, and mom worked evenings somewhere, so the girls and I would all go over there after school. While they watched TV and chatted, I=d be sitting naked at the kitchen table doing their homework for them. Once in a while, if there wasn’t much homework, I=d spend the rest of the evening kneeling on the floor, licking toes, massaging feet or painting toenails, until it was time for everyone to go home.

Gym nights were a little different. We’d still all go to Carmen’s house where they’d relax while I did their homework, then at 8:00 we’d head over to the gym. The girls would ride in their cars, and I would go on foot, running as my warm-up. My jogging attire was nothing more than a pair of powder blue stain running shorts, but I quickly learned to carry a rubber or two in my clasped hand, just so I’d have one in case it was needed.

After stripping down and sucking Bruno off, he’d put me through my fitness routine. It changed about once every two weeks just to keep it challenging, but I was beginning to enjoy the workouts. I often voluntarily sucked him off a second time or gave him a tongue bath afterwards, just to show my appreciation. The girls, of course, watched, made jokes, and photographed all of this.

After watching my workout, the girls would retire to the sauna. I would be their cabana boy, fetching drinks, towels and whatever else they wanted. They sometimes let me kneel on the floor and jerk off into a condom while focusing my eyes on their beautiful feet. To this day, I still can’t look at a woman’s bare feet without my dick reacting. After the sauna, they’d go into the showers and I’d go home. I still wasn’t allowed to see any of them naked, and even when changing tampons, still wore the blindfold.

Whether it was a gym night or not, my chores weren’t finished. Monday through Thursday, two of the girls would give me the soiled panties, bras and dirty socks they=d worn during the previous seven days. Each night, I would dutifully hand-wash each dainty item then hang it in my room to dry. Before school the following morning, I would rush to deliver the neatly folded undergarments to their owner=s home. This meant two things for me. First, on gym nights, I never got much more than two or three hours sleep. Second, between doing their homework, laundry and whatever else they had me do, I never had time for my own schoolwork. As a result, my grades plummeted.

Now, I was never going to be valedictorian or anything, but through my sophomore year I’d managed to pull mostly B’s, with a couple of A’s and a few C’s. In fact, I’d never gotten anything lower than a C in my life, so my mid-semester progress report – showing a single C, two F’s and the rest D’s – came as quite a shock to my parents. Of course, their first thought was that I was into drugs, and even after I assured them I wasn’t, they had me tested. When that came up negative, They figured it must be emotional problems, so they sent me to a psychologist.

I’m sure if they’d known what was really going on, they would have found someone else, but Doctor Mary Franklin was a long-time friend of the family. She was also very open-minded and had a bit of a dominant streak in her. Not as much as the cheerleaders, but enough that she wasn’t averse to having me serve her, patient or not.

Our first meeting, she wanted to hypnotize me. She said it was good therapy, but I wanted to be sure that whatever I said, wouldn’t be repeated to my parents. I knew I’d spill the beans under hypnosis; subconsciously, I wanted the whole world to know, and once my natural inhibitions against a public announcement were blocked, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. It took three visits before I trusted her enough for that. Each time, I let something else slip, and waited to see if my parents mentioned anything. They never did, so on our fourth session, I told her to go ahead and do it.

Doctor Franklin found out everything, of course, including the fact that I secretly enjoyed the abuse. She was completely understanding, and even gave me a few books to read, which really helped me understand myself better. Each week, she’d expect an essay on whatever reading she’d assigned, and I’d mince around her office in my panties, dusting and polishing, while she read my innermost thoughts.

“You’ve never seen, let alone touched, a real vagina, have you?” she asked one day.

“Uh, no, Ma’am,” I responded. Of course she knew the answer before she asked it; I’d confessed both under hypnosis and in my essays.

“Have your Mistress call me,” she instructed. “If she agrees, that may change by next week.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” I acknowledged eagerly, my dick instantly straining against the front of the tiny purple panties I was wearing that day.

“Oh, don’t get yourself all excited,” she commented offhandedly. “I have no intent to put that useless appendage of yours to use.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied dejectedly.

“Your appointment is over. Get dressed, and once the restroom is spotless, you may leave.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said, pulling my shirt on over my head. My pants were always the first thing off and the last thing on, in accordance with Dominique’s instructions. She was giving me a lot of little rules like that. For instance, I was no longer allowed to pee in a urinal, and whenever I entered a bathroom or public restroom toilet stall, I had to immediately strip naked. So, though I dressed to leave Doctor Franklin’s office, once I gathered up the cleaning supplies from the closet and entered the bathroom, I closed the door, took my clothes off, and began cleaning. I wasn’t permitted to lock the door, and had to hope nobody would barge in without knocking. Fortunately, that never happened during the time I was seeing Doctor Franklin.

When I gave Dominique the message from Doctor Franklin that evening, she just nodded and told me to continue massaging her feet. The girls were all sitting on the couches watching some afternoon talk show; I was dressed in nothing but a frilly pink heart-shaped apron, in honor of Valentine’s Day. The girls sat watching television, each enjoying their own large box of Godiva chocolates, while I absentmindedly rubbed Dominique’s feet. I hoped there were no birthdays approaching; I had to go into debt to my sister again in order to afford the candy. The forty I borrowed would cost me twenty in interest each week, plus I had to do her laundry until I paid it off.

“Enough. Go get your journal and read it to us,” Dominique commanded, shoving me away with the sole of her foot against my face.

I mentioned earlier that I was required to keep my used condoms. Each was individually numbered, and that number corresponded to a specific entry in my journal. I was required to keep the journal with me at all times. I scurried off on all fours (I wasn’t permitted to stand without permission) and retrieved the pink-covered notebook.

“Ma’am, where would you like me to start?” I asked, kneeling in the center of the living room floor.

“Why, from the beginning, silly boy. After all, there aren’t that many, are there?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I mean, no, Ma’am,” I blubbered, flustered.

“Which is it, yes or no?”

“Yes, Ma’am, from the beginning. No Ma’am, there aren’t that many, Ma’am.”

“Well, now that we have that settled, begin,” she ordered, leaning back on the couch, smiling. I could feel the eyes of all the girls on me as I started reading. A total of 26 orgasms in four months, not counting the times I’d been forced to repeatedly jack off in the same condom until my dick was raw. Quite a change from my former habit of masturbating at least twice a day.

As I recited the record of each condom in my, I would crawl to the girl who ordered me to cum that time and slather her bare feet with licks and kisses. Naturally, I was hoping that one of them would let me cum for their amusement; it had been eleven days, after all, since my last one. That wasn’t to happen, though – as usual – and I was once again taken into the bathroom, blindfolded, and made to remove tampons with my mouth. Two of the girls were on their period now, though I wasn’t sure who. The last thing they made me do before sending me home in nothing but my skimpy blue satin trunks was to chew those used tampons until they were just a single bloody clump of cotton. I carried it home in my mouth, my hands filled with bags of dirty underthings, finally disposing of the nasty-tasting object in the toilet after I arrived home.

A week later – a week without being permitted to orgasm, I might add – I had my next session with Doctor Franklin. To my surprise, there was someone else in her office with her, a woman I estimated to be in her early forties. She was pretty ordinary, actually rather dumpy when you get right down to it. No makeup, a few pounds overweight, and in a frumpy cotton dress and clunky black shoes.

“Why aren’t you dressed – or should I say undressed – properly for your session?” Doctor Franklin asked me sarcastically. I started to stammer about the other person, but she interrupted me. “Don’t you think I can see I have another patient in here? In fact, don’t you think there might be a reason for both of you having appointments at the same time?” I mumbled a “yes, Ma’am,” and quickly divested myself of my clothing, carefully stacking the folded garments by the door as was required, before kneeling at the doctor’s feet.

“Both you and Marilyn have problems that, coincidently, you can help each other with. You see, you have no familiarity with the female anatomy except what you’ve seen in dirty magazines, and Marilyn thinks she’s frigid because her husband isn’t able to give her orgasms. Marilyn is going to learn that it’s her husband, not her, and in return, you’ll get your first education in how to give oral sex to a woman.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, my eyes larger than they’d ever been.

Doctor Franklin led Ms. Marilyn (the name I was required to refer to her by) to the overstuffed chair in the corner – the same chair Doctor Franklin had reposed in, reading my essays, while I massaged her beautiful feet – and had her slip her white cotton panties off. Speaking calmly to her other patient, Doctor Franklin set her back in the chair, then lifted her dress up and draped her legs over the arms of the chair, leaving them spread widely and exposing Ms. Marilyn completely to me. It was the first time I’d ever seen a real, live vagina, but I was able to identify the various parts – labia majora, labia minora, clitoris – from the assignments Doctor Franklin had been giving me.

“Come take a close look, boy, but don’t touch,” Doctor Franklin ordered. I crawled forward, resting my chin on the edge of the cushion and carefully inspecting the object of my desire. My inspection was made all the more easier by the fact that Ms. Marilyn was shaved; a recent condition imposed by Doctor Franklin’s suggestion that doing so may cause her husband greater interest. I knelt there for the next twenty minutes, just examining Ms. Marilyn’s vagina, allowing the vision to burn into my memory, before Doctor Franklin ordered me away. After advising me that there would be no further patients today, she ordered me to lock the office door and get on with my cleaning while she continued her session with Ms. Marilyn. I reported back to her 45 minutes later that the waiting room and restroom had both been cleaned.

“I understand your Mistresses only permit you to cum inside condoms?” Doctor Franklin said as I knelt there before her, Ms. Marilyn now completely dressed.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied shame-faced.

“Did you bring any with you?” she asked pointedly.

“No, Ma’am,”

“I see. Marilyn, did you remember to do as I asked and bring one, just in case?”

“Yes, Doctor,” she answered, blushing beautifully as though her answer embarrassed her.

“Well, would you be willing to sell it to our boy here, so he can entertain us?”

“Um, Ma’am,” I interrupted, “I don’t have any money, Ma’am.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Doctor Franklin said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I think six hours of housework for Marilyn would be an even trade, don’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered.

“So ask her!” she said impatiently.

“Ms. Marilyn, Ma’am? May I please be allowed to perform six hours of housework of your choosing, in exchange for the condom you brought, Ma’am?”

“Well, I don’t know,” she said almost slyly. “If I sold you the condom, what would you do with it?”

“Ma’am, I’d put it on my penis and jack off for you, if you wished me to.”

“But what would you do with it afterwards?”

“Ma’am, whatever you wished me to do, but I am required to add it to my used condom collection.

“I see,” she replied. “Well, I suppose so,” she said, opening her purse and pulling out a single rubber. It was one of those glow-in-the-dark ones, probably bought from a vending machine in a truck stop restroom. That’s the only place I’d ever seen them.

Doctor Franklin and Ms. Marilyn allowed me to lay on my back and use one hand to play with my nipples while I jerked off for them. This was a novelty – and quite enjoyable – for me, since I was normally required to jack off kneeling with my left hand on my head. My nipples had always been very sensitive, and tweaking them during my orgasm always intensified the sensation. Because it had been so long since I’d been permitted to cum, my orgasm was particularly strong, filling the condom to nearly the bursting point.

“What should we have him do with all that nasty boy juice, Marilyn?” Doctor Franklin asked, while I lay on my back, panting.

“Well, I certainly don’t want it on me,” she replied. “I know we’d talked about having him rub it into my feet and then lick it off, but the thought of having semen touching me right now makes me shudder.”

“Hmm…okay, how about we just make him eat it. Or better yet, pour it on his face and rub it in? Didn’t you say your husband said cum is supposed to be good for the complexion? We could find out, you know?”

“Great idea. Okay, boy,” Miss Marilyn ordered, “Take the rubber off, empty it on your face and rub it in nice and good.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, carefully pulling the filled condom off my now-shrinking dick. I wasn’t told to move, so I just remained on my back and held it over my face, allowing my own cum to drip out of the open end of the rubber. Carefully rolling it up like a toothpaste tube to get every drop, I then began rubbing the semen into my skin, covering every part of my face. My eyelids, nose, lips, and cheeks were all shiny from the wet fluid. Once I’d rubbed it in completely, I was ordered to get dressed and go home, with instructions to not wash my face until after school the next day.

Sissy Stepdad

Chapter X

For the next eight weeks, I spent the better part of each Tuesday afternoon learning how to eat pussy. Under the watchful eyes of Doctor Franklin, I knelt between Ms. Marilyn’s soft, slender thighs, following their explicit instructions as I learned to use my tongue and mouth to bring a woman off quickly, tease her for hours upon end, and everything in between. It got so that I could bring Ms. Marilyn to a quick orgasm, then spend the rest of our session gently lapping at her swollen folds, leaving her just aroused enough that she’d be anxiously awaiting her husband’s arrival from work later that evening.

There were a few times when Ms. Marilyn came to our sessions freshly fucked, and a couple more where she and her husband had obviously had sex the night before. It was important, Doctor Franklin explained to me, that I learn how to suck cunt (those were her exact words) regardless of the condition it might be in – clean, dirty, young, old, hairless or fur-covered. I was to consider every vagina offered as a gift from a Goddess, and lovingly treat it as such. While Ms. Marilyn’s mound was shaved bare and there were no others available, Doctor Franklin said cleaning a used cunt would be a good start. Maybe, she hinted, I might get the opportunity to try others later.

I knew that if I showed the slightest hesitation or failed to be absolutely obedient, I’d be denied my own pleasure. The cheerleaders had decided after that first week that the only orgasms I’d be having were those permitted by Doctor Franklin. So no matter how stinky or dirty Ms. Marilyn’s cunt was, I always did what she and Doctor Franklin wanted. I soon learned that it didn’t really matter that much; even if she’d not, whatever odor or taste there was would be covered with fresh juices in a matter of seconds after I dove in. It got to the point where I didn’t even mind licking the dried, flaky semen stuck to her thighs, and on more than a few occasions when I was feeling particularly submissive, hoped she’d show up that way.

The fact that I was only permitted to cum at Doctor Franklin’s command didn’t stop the cheerleaders from teasing and abusing me at every opportunity. That eight weeks was pure hell, sexually speaking. I would become increasingly more agitated – and the girls would become increasingly more abusive – as Tuesday afternoon approached, when I’d literally pray that I’d be permitted an orgasm. Sometimes my prayer was answered, sometimes it wasn’t. It was on those occasions when I left my session with a case of blue balls that I would find myself in a state of depression, knowing I couldn’t possibly go another full week, but at the same time knowing the end result of an unauthorized orgasm would be much worse than having a perpetual hard-on for the next week.

I still had to perform all my “normal” duties and chores. One or another was in charge of me each day at school, and I was expected to bring whoever it was a gift. I carried their books and fetched their lunches, standing stupidly by their table awaiting another idiotic command while they chatted incessantly. My afternoons were occupied with doing their homework and waiting on them hand-and-foot; my evenings involved washing panties in the bathroom sink, finishing my household chores – and my sisters, as well, since that was part of the payment for the nearly weekly loans I was receiving from her – and, if I had time, doing a bit of my own homework and sleeping. I was still busy on weekends, too, spending each Saturday mowing my customers’ lawns and Sundays doing yard work for the cheerleaders.

The abuse didn’t end there, either. I was now required to shave my body at least three times a week in order to keep my arms, legs, and pubes hair-free. I also had to go out and – with borrowed money, again – buy my own “frillies,” as the girls called them. I was required to wear matching panties, stockings and a garter belt under my clothes. When I slept, it was in a pink lace babydoll nightie, with the panties I’d worn the day before hung around my neck. I was no longer permitted the privilege of using toilet paper, so the odor of the racing stripe on my panties permeated the air around my head while I slept fitfully, my feet spread and bound to the corners of my bed. A butt plug was my constant companion now, a large one at night, and a smaller one during the day. The only time I was permitted to remove it was when I had to crap, and even then I had to get permission from one of the girls first. At school, I even had to ask permission to piss!

Of course, three evenings each week I also had to visit the gym to work out, clean the locker rooms, and do whatever else Bruno commanded. While the abuse the girls piled on me was humiliating, the worst part of it all was servicing Bruno during my mandatory visits to the gym. He teased me constantly, reminding me that he could cum whenever and however he wanted, but that I had to beg permission from a woman nearly four times my age, and even then, was restricted to jacking off in a condom just once every week or two. He used to tell me how I was becoming a quite accomplished cock-sucker, which simply increased my humiliation. He always timed his workouts so that he was sweaty and smelly, and he often walked out of the locker room with piss dripping from the end of his cock, not even bothering to shake it off before sticking it in my mouth. Every time I knelt there, sucking his hard dick and lapping at his balls, I wondered what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a blow job. Even with all the abuse I’d been taking, I was still a complete virgin.

Everyone of importance in my life at that moment – Ms. Marilyn, Doctor Franklin, Bruno and the cheerleaders – knew that, of course, but I didn’t expect anyone to do anything about it. I certainly couldn’t; even if I had the time, I had no money to take anyone out on a date. And even if I had the time and money, I knew what would happen if I had an orgasm without permission from one of my Mistresses. Besides, everyone seemed to like seeing me scurry around with a case of blue balls, constantly doing everything I could to please them, in the hope that someone would take pity and let me amuse them by jacking off into a condom. That’s why I was so surprised when I was told of their plans for me over Spring Break.

It was the Wednesday before break that Miss Dominique informed me that I’d be spending my week’s vacation undergoing a trial, and depending on the outcome, I could be receiving a reward beyond belief. At first, I thought she meant a trial, like in a courtroom, but what she was talking about was a series of tests designed to challenge me physically, mentally and even spiritually.

“Figure something out, slut,” she said after explaining it to me. “You probably have brains enough to come up with an idea. Just be waiting in the girl’s locker room after school Friday, by the toilets, wearing nothing but your pink satin shorts.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, as much in anticipation as fear.

I had a lot of ideas about what to tell my folks, but I knew I’d need something that could be verified. I couldn’t tell them I was invited to some school thing or a camping trip; there was too much risk that they’d uncover my lie. I thought about having one of my friends cover for me, but they could just call his parents and find out I wasn’t where I said I was. Using Bruno wouldn’t work, either. Although my parents knew I was going to the gym, I couldn’t really claim I was going to some body-building or weight lifting contest. Then I got a brilliant idea: Doctor Franklin.

I called her up during afternoon break, and asked if I could see her after school. She said something about expecting my call, which sort of surprised me, and said she certainly could see me, but it would cost. At this point, I didn’t care. Either I found some excuse to go with the girls for the week, or life as I knew it would be over.

When I arrived at Doctor Franklin’s office – trembling in fear of what was probably going to happen, I might add – I found her in the company of a very handsome man in his mid-20’s. He had short, blond hair and a nicely toned, muscular build. He was probably the most handsome, perfect specimen of a man I’d ever seen. I dropped my clothes and crawled across the floor naked, greeting Doctor Franklin by gently licking her sandal-clad feet.

“Go say hello to Gerhardt, slut!” Doctor Franklin commanded, shoving me away with a foot to the shoulder. I crawled across the room and placed my forehead on the floor between his feet.

“Good afternoon, sir,” I stated softly. “How may I serve you?” I could see the outline of his erect penis as I raised my eyes and looked upward.

“You will serve him in several ways, slut,” Doctor Franklin advised me. “First, keeping your hands behind your head and using only your mouth, you will undress him.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied. It wasn’t all that difficult, since he was bare-chested as well as barefoot. All I had to do was take the waistband of his nylon wind trousers and pull them down, at task that took me no more than a minute or so. He was completely hairless from the neck down, but I couldn’t tell whether that was natural or not. His muscles were well-defined, but the one that I couldn’t get my eyes off was the ten incher poking straight out at my face. I’d never seen a cock so large. Bruno’s seemed thicker, but Gerhardt’s was definitely longer.

“Show Gerhardt how much you love his beautiful cock,” Doctor Franklin ordered.

With Bruno, it was always just a matter of him sticking it in my mouth and me sucking. Now, it was going to be different. I wasn’t quite sure what to do, but started by rubbing my cheeks against Gerhardt’s thighs, then licking from his knees towards his crotch. Initially, Gerhardt just stood there with his legs apart, but soon stepped backwards and flopped down in the overstuffed chair, his rock-hard cock pointing towards the ceiling. I began lapping at his balls, and then the underside of his penis, lavishing little kisses all over the shaft. I could feel myself getting aroused, my balls aching because it had been nearly two weeks since they were last drained. I could see pre-cum seeping out of the tip of Gerhardt’s cock as I lowered my lips over it, gently running my tongue over the head as I slowly let it impale my mouth, going deeper and deeper until my gag reflex hit. I’d never deep throated anyone, not even Bruno, but I was damned sure going to try right now.

Breathing through my nose as much as I could, I bobbed my head down, then up, going a little deeper each time, feeing the head hit the back of my throat. It wasn’t until Gerhardt put his hands on the back of my head that I began to really panic, but then I realized he was actually pulling me off him.

It barely registered when Doctor Franklin said something about hoping for my sake I’d gotten Gerhardt’s cock wet. I was still too busy gasping for air to do anything when I was flipped over onto my knees. Almost instinctively, I spread my legs and raised my ass as high as I could; I knew I was going to lose at least one part of my virginity, though not the part most boys my age hoped for. I was about to get fucked in the ass. Gerhardt chuckled when he saw the pink plug protruding from my ass, pointing it out to Doctor Franklin. It was after school, so I was wearing the larger one.

“Such a slut, so anxious to lose your anal cherry that you’re already stretched out for your new boyfriend,” she said. “But I don’t see how you’re going to be able to get butt-fucked with your ass full. Pull it out and hold it in your mouth!”

I hesitated, turning my head and looking at her in shock. She expected me to do that??? My hesitation was rewarded with a harsh slap across the face, so hard it caused me to cry.

“Do it, slut! Take that thing out of your ass and stick it in your mouth! Otherwise, you figure out your own excuse for being gone all week. Unless you’d rather all those photos be made public?”

She was talking about the photos the girls had been collecting for the past several months; of me jacking off, licking toilet seats, wearing girl’s undergarments, and the like. I couldn’t let that happen. I felt my face turn bright red as I reached back and tugged the plug out of my ass, then without looking at it – I didn’t want to see what was on it – popped it into my mouth, holding it there like it had been in my ass, the circular base covering my lips.

Gerhardt’s cock slid up my ass easier that I’d expected, undoubtedly due to the “training” it had received from the butt plugs I’d been wearing. I still grunted in pain with the first thrust, though; while his dick wasn’t as thick as my large plug, it was considerably longer. I’d never had anything so far up my ass before, and it hurt. Still, I found myself rocking backwards to meet his thrusts, moaning around the acrid-tasting rubber plug in my mouth. We both came at the same time, the sensation of Gerhardt exploding deeply inside my bowels causing me to spurt wildly all over Doctor Franklin’s highly-polished hardwood floor.

I’d just had an unauthorized orgasm, and knew I was in trouble, so I wasn’t surprised at all when Doctor Franklin grabbed me by the back of the neck and shoved my face onto the floor.

“Lick up that mess!” she yelled, while Gerhardt grabbed me around the waist, holding me tightly to keep his still-throbbing cock in my ass. I dropped the butt plug and scooted around the floor as well as I could, lapping up my cum and polishing the floor with my tongue, Gerhardt still stuck to my backside like he was glued in place.

Once the floor was clean, she told me to stop, pick up my plug and hand it back to Gerhardt. Taking it in his hand, he pulled his dick out of me and quickly shoved the plug back in my ass, trapping his cum inside me. He then sat back down in the chair, his shit- and cum-covered cock waving in my face.

“Clean him,” Doctor Franklin ordered. I looked up at Gerhardt and saw the sadistic grin on his face. “Ass-to-mouth is a skill all sluts need to learn,” Doctor Franklin said. “I was going to wait, but I think this will be your punishment – if you want to call it that – for dirtying my floor with your boy spunk.”

This was one of those situations where I could either act tentatively or decisively. I could either timidly stick my tongue out and lick, or boldly take his entire cock in my mouth. I chose the latter, taking a deep breath and impaling myself on him. The bitter taste of my own ass overwhelmed me, but only for a moment, as I slathered his cock with saliva and quickly swallowed, then bathed him with my tongue. I could feel little flecks of shit on the underside of his circumcised head as I worked carefully to get him entirely clean.

“Don’t forget his balls,” Doctor Franklin called out. I could see what she was talking about, right on the front of his nut sack where it had been bouncing against my ass, there was a combination of sweat and semen which I gently licked clean. I took each testicle into my mouth, gently sucking and swathing them with my tongue, until I was finally told to stop.

“Enough,” Doctor Franklin finally announced. “Go scrub the bathroom and then come back here.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I responded. I was a little saddened; I’d been hoping that she’d let me finish sucking Gerhardt off. He had a beautiful cock, one that made me actually desire to serve it. I did as instructed, though, crawling out of the room naked and obeying my Mistress.

When I returned, Gerhardt was gone and Doctor Franklin was on the phone.

“Yes, that’s right, from this Friday evening until Sunday morning of next week. It’s an intense, nine-day program. Okay, great. No, he’ll be picked up at school, and he won’t need to pack anything. No, like I said, it’s funded through a grant program, so there’s no cost. Sure, I’ll let you know. Okay, bye.” She hung up the phone and looked over at me, kneeling in the doorway.

“It’s set. Your parents believe you’re going to a special camp to help build your self-esteem,” she told me.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” I replied, lowering my head submissively.

“I know what the girls have in mind – in fact, I suggested a lot of the activities. It won’t be an easy time for you, some of it will be humiliating and degrading, but overall, I think you’re going to enjoy it. After all, humiliation and degradation is what you’re all about, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said, my face burning as I blushed again in the knowledge that her words were absolutely true.

Sissy Stepdad

Chapter XI

The rest of the week was fairly uneventful for me, in that nothing really unusual occurred. The term “unusual,” of course, being relative. I waited on the girls hand-and-foot and accepted their abusive treatment with a smile, hand-washed their soiled undergarments each evening, wore panties, and sucked Bruno off every time I went to the gym. Just another week in my life, nothing special.

Friday afternoon found me waiting in the girls’ locker room as ordered, kneeling on the floor clad only in a pair of skimpy pink satin shorts. I’d not had any relief since Wednesday, and although going only two days without an orgasm was unusual for me lately, my dick was rock hard and poking out of the leg opening. I could literally feel my balls churning as I knelt there, awaiting what I knew would be a sexually-charged, humiliating week. The girls might arrive at any time – in fact, someone could be hiding in a toilet stall watching me now – so I carefully maintained my prescribed position. Knees spread as widely as possible with sides of my feet touching each other, leaning back on my ankles. Hands clasped behind my back, head lowered so that my chin was touching my chest. I counted silently to one hundred, then began tweaking my nipples for a count of twenty before returning to my original position, doing just what I’d been told to do. Each repetition took me two minutes, and it wasn’t until midway through the seventh iteration that I heard the door on the far side of the locker room swing open. My heart skipped a beat as I held my breath, listening carefully to hear if it was the girls, or someone else. I heard several sets of feet, accompanied by a strange, shuffling sound and an occasional grunt. I thought it was the cheerleaders, but wasn’t sure until I actually saw Dominique’s legs appear from around the corner of the wall that separated the changing area from the toilets. I kept my eyes lowered, sensing more than seeing the girls standing around me in a semi-circle. Then an opening appeared, and the source of the shuffling and grunting noises came into view.

It was a girl. A girl I’d seen around campus before, a girl on the freshman spirit squad. She was naked, or nearly so, crawling on all fours at the end of a leash held by the statuesque redhead, Roberta, a red leather collar secured around her neck by a little silver padlock. Her Mistress led her directly in front of me, then had her assume a position mirroring mine. Keeping my head down, I tried to furtively stare at her young, full breasts. They were beautiful. She was breathing heavily, causing them to move erotically. I could feel pre-cum forming on the tip of my dick. Someone – I was so preoccupied with the vision in front of me that I didn’t notice until the task was accomplished – slipped a collar around my neck and locked it in place.

“Both of you, piss!” I heard someone command. I watched in amazement as the girl’s tiny red panties began to darken, then the flow of urine that saturated them fell to the floor between her widely spread knees. So amazed that I didn’t even realize the command had been addressed to both of us, an error which quickly resulted in a painful slap to the side of my head. “Piss, I said!” Carmen yelled in my ear, and I responded. Whether out of fear or the fact that I had been commanded to do so, my bladder immediately emptied, splashing urine on my legs and soaking the shorts. We were both then ordered to get naked, slipping our panties off while remaining kneeling. I could see the beads of piss glistening on her shaved mound, saw her nether lips peeking out, knowing from my limited experience with Ms. Marilyn that this girl was as sexually aroused as I was. A pair of hands clad in rubber gloves took the filthy items from us, and I was lost in thought when I heard the next command.

“Open!”

We both immediately opened our mouths, and watched each other as the saturated garments were wadded up and forced past our lips, her panties in my mouth and my shorts in hers. Strips of duct tape across our faces held them in place. The acrid taste of her urine permeated my entire being, but the knowledge that those piss-covered panties had been in contact with that beautiful vagina only moments ago made me light-headed. I stared adoringly into her eyes; she looked back at me with something that could have been disgust, or might have been something else. Then I felt a harsh jerk on my leash.

“Slut, heel!” the youngest, Mary, commanded as she pulled me away. “Cunt, heel!” ordered her older sister Susan, tugging on the girl’s leash. Those were to be our names for the week, “Slut” and “Cunt.”

They led us out the back door to a waiting van, stopping to shackle our wrists behind our backs before loading us up. Cunt went first, laying on her left side with her head facing the back door; I was positioned exactly the opposite, opposite, on my right side, facing her, my face just inches from her smooth, shaved crotch. I could easily smell her need now, so strong that it overpowered the stench of urine filling my nose. Her bald cunt lips seemed to be opening and closing slightly, and I could see the clear vaginal fluids her body was producing. I doubted, though, that she could possibly be as aroused as I was at the moment. My dick bobbed, touching what I think was the side of her face, or maybe her lips; I couldn’t say for certain. Even after she squirmed away, I could feel her blonde hair tickling my cock.

“You two bitches just lay there and enjoy the ride,” Dominique said. “If either of you cums, you’ll both be punished. So I suggest you don’t even think about touching each other, okay?” I tried to nod, unable to respond vocally due to the piss-soaked panties in my mouth.

It was a long, uncomfortable ride. It was dark when we finally reached our destination, so it had to be at least four hours since we left the school. The door was opened and we were unceremoniously pulled out of the van. I fell heavily to the hard dirt, followed by Cunt, who landed on top of me. Rolled over onto our bellies, the restraints binding our wrists were removed.

“Time to start earning your keep, bitches. Unload the van and bring everything into the cabin. When you’re done with that, get the beds made. You’ll find linens and stuff in the closet,” commanded Dominique. With that, the girls all walked the fifty yards or so to the structure she referred to, not even bothering to see if we were obeying. They didn’t really need to, of course. Neither Cunt nor I knew where we were, except that we were probably over 100 miles from home, stark naked. We weren’t going anywhere.

There were a total of ten suitcases and four large boxes to carry. Cunt – I didn’t know what else to think of her as, and I couldn’t remember her real name – could only handle the smallest three bags, but had to help me with the boxes. Two of the boxes were obviously filled with food and cookware; they were both marked “Kitchen.” The other two were sealed, both very heavy. Even in the cool evening air, we were both covered in perspiration by the time everything was inside. There were five sets of bunk beds, but only eight sets of sheets. There were two extra, threadbare blankets; we assumed these were for us, but just left them folded in the closet.

“You go put the food away, Cunt. You, Slut, go bring in firewood. Enough for dinner tonight and breakfast in the morning,” Dominique ordered. “You’ll probably need to chop some more wood in the morning, too.” We both scampered out of the room to obey.

After the food was put up and the wood-burning stove stoked, the cheerleaders had Cunt fry up hamburgers for them, while they showed me the “uniform” I’d be wearing while serving their meals. Straight out of a man’s sexual fantasy, it was all pink: lace apron, fishnet stockings, and a garter belt. A little pink maid’s cap and the tallest stiletto heels I’d ever imagined finished it up. The only thing missing was a tall, leggy woman to wear it. I’m sure it didn’t look nearly as good on me, but the girls certainly got a laugh. I wobbled precariously in the heels, my ankle shaking as I nearly toppled over with each step. The piece’ de resistance, though, was the first cock cage I’d ever seen. Made of molded leather, dyed pink, it encapsulated my penis completely. A much larger padlock than the one on my neck – pulling my dick painfully downward – completed the ensemble. Well, almost. There was also the makeup. The panties were pulled out of my mouth, replaced with a bright red ball gag. Hot pink nail polish on my fingers and toes, bright red lipstick and a liberal application of mascara and eye shadow made me look like a cheap transvestite whore. Which, I suppose, in a sense I was.

By the time I was “dressed,” dinner was ready. Cunt knelt on the floor, working her way around the table to lick the girls’ feet while fucking herself with her own slime-covered hands. She made a loud, wet, slurping sound every time she removed her hand from her cunt so she could crawl to the next girl. I teetered around the room awkwardly on the uncomfortable spiked heel shoes, serving food, dishing out seconds and rushing back to the kitchen to get drink refills. Neither of us were permitted to share in the meal, though we were allowed to lick what we could off the dirty plates. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and my stomach growled as I lapped up the little bits of greasy meat left behind. While Cunt washed the dishes, Dominique led me back into the living room and explained some of what was going on.

“You’re both being tested this week,” she said, looking down at my kneeling form. “You, to see if you’re worth of being our slave, and Cunt to see if she’s ready to be a cheerleader. We’re a demanding group, but she’ll become one of us if she makes it through the week. If that happens, you’ll obey her just as you do us. However, if you can manage to survive the week, you’ll get to fuck her. Would you like that, Slut? The chance to stick that pathetic pecker of yours up that tight little teenage twat?”

I nodded my head eagerly.

“Good. So be obedient, do what you’re told when you’re told to do it, and just maybe you’ll get the chance.” I tried to say, “Thank you, Ma’am,” but because of the ball gag imbedded in my mouth, it came out nothing more than a mumble. Dominique must have understood, though, because she patted me on the head and called me a good boy.

“Now, let’s discuss the rules for the week,” she said. “First, you’re our maid for now. As such, you’ll be wearing your maid’s uniform whenever you’re cleaning or serving meals. At all other times you’ll be naked, except for your stockings and heels. Your collar will remain on at all times, and the ball gag may or may not be used, depending on how we feel. Understand?”

I nodded, looking back up to see her glaring at me. I wasn’t sure what she wanted at first; I couldn’t verbally answer, because I was still gagged. She looked down at my clothes, and then I understood. I was neither cleaning nor serving meals at the moment, so I was supposed to be naked. I quickly shimmied out of the skimpy uniform, laying it neatly on the floor next to me.

“Second, whenever you are naked, you will crawl. You will not get up off your knees unless one of us tells you to.” Again, I nodded.

“Third, you will not eat, drink, piss or shit without permission. You may beg for permission to use the toilet and for water; I’ll show you where you can find your toilet and water bowl a bit later. You will be fed when we feel like feeding you, and you will not ask for food. Speaking of food, I am now going to give you a choice. This will be your only choice this week, so think it over carefully.” I looked up at her, expectantly.

“Your first option is this: You’ll be fed twice a day, and get to sleep on a mattress on the floor, with your collar chained to a bedpost. Except for the outside work – chopping wood and the like – and serving meals, you won’t have many other chores. However, in return for these privileges, you won’t be permitted to cum until next Saturday night – eight days from now – when you’ll lose your cherry inside Cunt’s cunt.

“Your second option is that, within certain restrictions, you’ll be permitted to cum as often as you want. The restrictions are that we can still order you not to cum, you will masturbate to orgasm whenever we tell you to, at least one of us must be present whenever you cum, and you will lick up any semen you happen to blow, no matter where it lands. Even within these restrictions, you will have a minimum of three orgasms per day. In return for this, you’ll be fed once a day, though we might also give you a snack or two as a special reward. You’ll sleep outside in your cage, and you’ll do all Cunt’s chores – that’s all the cooking and kitchen cleaning – in addition to your own.”

Oh, Hell, it was a no-brainer for me. I nodded emphatically when she was finished, indicating my preference for the second option. Just about then, Susan appeared from the kitchen, leading the crawling Cunt by her leash.

“You give her the choices?” Dominique asked, adding, “And?…” when Susan nodded.

“Just what we thought. She’s such a slut!” Susan giggled.

“Him, too. So, why don’t you start off showing Cunt new duties, while I explain things to this slut?”

I watched as Cunt’s entire body turned bright red in embarrassment, Susan leading her down the hall to the bathroom.

“Cunt was given choices as well. Since nobody bothered to bring toilet paper, she’s offered to serve as its replacement. It was either that or lose her virginity to a dog. You should thank her when you get the chance, because if her decision had gone the other way, we would have been using your face, lips and tongue as toilet paper.” She let her words settle in my brain for a moment, giving me a chance to understand what she was saying. When the look of comprehension came across my face, she continued. “Her goal is becoming a cheerleader, so it was a matter of her choosing which option was the least disgusting for her. Not like you, with your brain between your legs. We always knew what your decision would be. Now, come here so I can get that ball out of your mouth.”

I crawled closer to Dominique, tilting my head forward so she could unstrap the gag. I moved my jaws back and forth, trying to alleviate the ache from having them forced so widely open for so long, wondering at the same time why she was suddenly being almost nice to me. I didn’t have to wait long to find out. Cunt came crawling back out, a look of disgust on her face. She stopped in the middle of the room, the leash dragging behind her.

“Kneel upright, both of you,” Dominique ordered. “Crawl towards each other on your knees, hands behind your back. Cunt, spread your legs wider so Slut can get real close.” We both shuffled closer, until my knees were touching the insides of her thighs and her nipples were brushing against my chest.

“Now, both of you lean forward and give each other a big kiss. Come on, we want to see lots of tongue action there.”

As our mouths intertwined, I could taste Susan’s ass, but I still kissed hungrily, my lips taking hers inside them as our tongues wrestled. I gently bit her lower lip, causing her to emit a low moan of lust, and her whole body to shudder slightly. The girls noticed too, and began giggling.

“I think Cunt just had another cum. What a slut!” someone laughed. “Keep kissing, more tongue. Let’s see if Slut can get off, too! Get in closer, Slut, rub that weenie against Cunt and see if you can cum!”

The cock cage prevented any significant friction, but that didn’t prevent me from becoming even more aroused or us from giving the girls quite a show. My hands were all over Cunt’s hot, sexy body, as I rubbed myself against her. We kissed like fervent lovers, our tongues delving deeply into each other’s mouths, moaning passionately. I licked at her neck and squeezed her perfect breasts, feeling her shudder through at least two more orgasms, while she nibbled, sucked and licked at my nipples. My movements became more and more frenzied as I wrapped my legs around her torso, thrusting forward with my encased cock, simulating the sort of sex I’d never had, when finally, my body responded in the only way it knew how. With virtually no direct stimulation to my cock, I felt my balls welling up and knew it was going to happen. I exploded inside my leather prison, my entire body shaking as beads of perspiration covered my body from every pore, and I let out a loud groan, finally falling limply to the floor, feeling the semen slowly ooze out over my belly and thighs. I lay there, exhausted, panting.

“Bravo!” the girls cheered, clapping. I barely noticed the flashes as photos were taken of us, arms and legs askew, covered in the sweat from our faux love-making.

“Okay, enough for tonight. Bedtime, you two lovers. One last kiss, now.”

I rolled over towards Cunt and hungrily kissed her, both of us whispering an exhausted “Thank you” to each other, before we were led by our leashes to our respective sleeping areas. Mine was a simple steel dog crate out by the smelly garbage pile at the back of the lot, but at least I was able to fall into a semblance of sleep. I found out later that Cunt got nothing more than a few quick naps, as she was passed from cheerleader to cheerleader that night, forced to perform oral sex on them until they, too, fell asleep.

Sissy Stepdad

Chapter XII

Sissy Stepdad

Chapter XII

My first night’s rest was anything but restful, but successive nights would be even worse. About the only positive thing I could say about them was that they’d be shorter than the first, averaging less than three hours per night.

I worked…well, like slave…from before dawn to well into the early mornings, the never-ending chores and constant supervision ensuring I seldom had as much as three minutes of rest at a time. In addition to preparing all the meals and taking care of all the household chores, I spent most of the daylight hours outside, either cleaning the shabby yard or making repairs to the cabin’s exterior. One day I spent the entire afternoon on the roof, my naked body burning as I replaced broken and missing shingles. Another day was spent scraping loose paint off the siding and trip, then caulking the cracks in preparation for my next day’s task, which was to paint the entire cabin. But the yard work was the worst of it.

I spent four hours each afternoon, during the heat of the day, trying to make the yard look presentable. The first day was surely the worst, and the girls put me to work crawling around the yard on my hands and knees, picking up pieces of trash and other waste – including several rather large piles of dog crap – and carrying it to the trash pile. The ground was hard and uneven, covered with rocks and stickers that cut painfully into my knees and palms as I crawled around, knowing full well that a worse fate would await me if I dared stop or slow down. The following days weren’t as bad, though my hands became blistered and my feet raw from the mowing, digging and cultivating they had me do. My entire body was burned from the hours of being outside, naked under the sun, and my nights were filled with painful tremors as every muscle in my body cried out in pain.

The nights. They were the worst, as I was locked into a metal dog cage which sat in the dirt, just off the porch. It was so small that I could barely fit, assuming a fetal position that I was unable to move out of. Unprotected from the elements, with not even a rag to use for warmth, my nights were pure hell. I was seldom able to doze for more than twenty or thirty minutes before waking, although I had not way of telling the time. The first night, a thick fog blew in, almost like a light rain, covering me in a cold, wet blanket. I shivered through the night, and morning found me running a fever. The girls paid my illness no mind, just laughing when I begged for aspirin and some water.

Abuse was my constant companion during this period. Kept naked at all times and forced to beat off for the girls’ amusement whenever they wanted a laugh, my dick was sore, red and chaffed. I seldom went two hours without being ordered to perform for them, always being forced to lick my own ejaculate from wherever it landed. I was forced to submit to the most humiliating punishments, one minute because I wasn’t hard and the next because I was, and then again when whatever consequence they imposed for this supposed infraction caused me to become sexually aroused or proved impossible for me to complete to their satisfaction.

But their abuse of me wasn’t limited to the sexual sort. Far from it, they took every opportunity to make my life as painful and humiliating as they could.

The first morning, after cunt snapped the leash on my collar and led me crawling out of my cage, the cheerleaders stood around me, making little cooing noises like one would do to a puppy.

“Aw, the little doggie is shivering cold, “ one of the girls said that first morning.

“Yeah, I think we should warm him up a bit, don’t you, girls?” another replied, a chorus of voices agreeing.

The first unexpected bite of the belt being wielded by one of the cheerleaders slapped up at my unprotected balls, causing me to scream aloud as pain unlike anything I’d felt it before coursed through my body like a lightning bolt. I collapsed on the muddy ground, my hands cupping my groin as I squirmed in agony.

“Good one, Susan!” someone giggled. “Do it again!”

“Please, no,” I begged, still rolling on the ground, bile in my throat. “Anything else, please, Mistress!”

“Okay!” they all said in unison, laughing.

“Well,” I heard Carmen say, “I think the first order of business is to get you warmed up, worm. Roll over on your back and spread your arms and legs out!”

I slowly complied, still afraid to move my hands and exposed my throbbing and now-purple balls. Two of the girls grabbed my wrists and forced them away from my groin.

“We were going to go easy on you, slut, but you’ve just earned yourself a little more punishment. Now spread those legs as widely as you can, or else!” Carmen warned, stepping over me so her legs were straddling my supine body.

“Now, keep your eyes and mouth wide open, unless you want those useless balls of yours to get more of the strap,” she ordered. Looking up, I could see nothing but hairy pussy under her skirt as she squatted so her crotch was about two feet above my face. Suddenly, she began to piss on my face, shifting her body slightly so most of the urine went straight into my mouth. “Swallow it, bitch!” she commanded. The acrid fluid burned my eyes and nostrils, filling my mouth more quickly than I could swallow, causing me to sputter and gag, but somehow I managed to get enough of it down to satisfy my abuser. Then it was everyone else’s turn. First Jeanette, then Debbie, Carmen and Angela, followed in turn by Roberta, Mary, and finally, young Susan. Some squatted and aimed at my face from a distance, but the last three sat directly on my face, using my mouth as their toilet. My otherwise-empty stomach was boiling in protest, and it was all I could do to keep from vomiting on myself. Only the knowledge that I’d then be forced to eat my own bile off the ground kept me from doing so. But it wasn’t over yet.

“Your turn, cunt!” one of the girls called, and the novice cheerleader took her place over my naked, piss-covered face.

“No, no,” she was told as she took her position over my face. “Turn around and squat over his pathetic little weenie!” When I heard that, a flicker of hope that they were going to have her fuck me flashed through my mind. My dick twitched just enough for the girls to notice. They laughed.

“No, you nasty bitch, you’re not going to lose your cherry today!” Susan assured me – or was she talking to cunt instead? We were both, after all, virgins. One of the girls whispered in cunt’s ear, and she began slowly lowering herself down until her pussy just barely brushed against my cock, which caused my body to tremble uncontrollably. Then she began to slowly shuffle backwards, still in a squatting position, towards my head. I could see beads of perspiration on her naked body as she struggled to maintain position, finally over my upper chest, just below my neck. I was commanded to keep my eyes and mouth open. I stared in horror as she began to strain, watching her sphincter slowly open as a large turd fell out, landing with a loud plop, just missing my face. The odor from my piss-saturated hair was now overwhelmed with the stench of fresh, warm shit lying just inches from my face. I began to struggle, trying to get up, but the girls were ready for it and pinned my wrists and ankles to the ground with their feet. I could do nothing as a second and third turd landed on me. I closed my eyes and turned my head away, but there was nothing I could do to escape as it hit the side of my face, sliding slowly onto the ground beside my head.

“I’m finished, Ma’am,” I heard cunt announce in a quiet, shaky voice.

“No, you’re not,” Dominique answered. “What else were you supposed to do?”

I could swear I heard cunt whisper “I’m sorry” to me just as she lowered herself onto my face, rubbing my nose between her ass cheeks. Shit was smeared on my face from my eyes to my chin, but that still wasn’t going to be the worst of it.

“Cunt’s period started last night, but since she forgot to bring any tampons, we figured you could stand in. Put that slutty tongue of yours to use and start cleaning, bitch!”

One of the girls pushed on cunt’s shoulders, forcing her down until my face was smashed between her widely-spread thighs. Unable to breathe, I did the only thing I could and began licking and sucking, trying to pull at least a little air into my lungs. Cunt began bouncing up and down on my face, which was now streaked with a combination of shit and her menstrual blood. I could do nothing but continue to suck and lick, while the girls stood around and laughed.

I spent the rest of the smelling like a sewer, shit caked on my face, while I toiled away at the tasks the girls set me to. I wasn’t permitted inside at all, and cunt was the only one who would come within ten feet of me – unwillingly, I might add.

I was carefully filling cracks around the picture window opened out onto the front porch, when I saw cunt carrying lawn chairs out of the house, scurrying around to set them in a circle, checking each one’s position carefully. Although still busy with my own work, I could see dark handprints on her tits where she’d obviously been mauled, and bright red stripes across her ass. I hadn’t noticed either this morning, but then again, my focus was on the turds dropping on her rather than whether her ass had been beaten. Anyway, after making sure the chairs were precisely placed, she scampered back into the house, returning a few minutes later. This time she was crawling on her hands and knees, the rest of the cheerleading squad following her. They took their seats, while she remained kneeling in the middle of the circle.

“Get your skanky ass over here, slut!” Dominique screamed.

I dropped to my knees myself and crawled as fast as I could, trying to ignore the sharp pain in my knees every time they hit one of the many sharp rocks laying in my path.

“It’s time for your feeding, slut,” she told me as I knelt submissively in front of her at a spot sufficiently far away that the stench of my shit, piss and sweat-covered body wouldn’t offend her. She motioned to cunt, who approached her and took the filthy tin bucket she was offered.

“You still have a lot of work to do today, slut, so we’re going to let you save the energy you would have otherwise expended chewing your meal,” Dominique pronounced with a regal tone in her voice. The other girls just laughed and giggled as cunt crawled to the center of the circle, her bucket scraping the ground as she held the bail between her teeth. “Cunt will be chewing your food for you today. Neither of you are permitted to use your hands, so I hope you both remembered to brush your teeth this morning.” There was more laughter at the comment; I hadn’t had the opportunity to so much as rinse myself off, let alone brush my teeth, since arriving at school the previous day. My face was covered with shit stripes, and my mouth still tasted of the piss I’d been forced to drink earlier. How I tasted wasn’t my problem, though; it was apparent that they intended for cunt to chew whatever “food” was in the bucket and feed it to me mouth-to-mouth. “Okay, get to work, cunt!” she ordered.

I watched the teenager, her nose wrinkled in disgust, slowly lower her face into the rusty, dirty pail and move her head around, apparently trying to fish something out. Fish was right, as I could clearly see she had the remains of some sort of fish between her lips, the nearly naked skeleton crunching loudly as she chewed.

“Your girlfriend apparently likes you, slut,” Dominique announced. “The leftover fried fish we had for dinner a couple of days ago is probably the best tasting thing in there,” she said as slut crawled to me. We both leaned forward so she could deposit the cold, awful-tasting mush into my mouth. I nearly gagged as I swallowed; I never liked fish, but whatever else was in the bucket had definitely made it taste worse.

“There, there, slut,” Dominique commented. “You must keep your strength up. After all, you still have a lot of work to do, and there’s still tonight to get through. Besides, there’s no more fish left, is there, cunt? Go ahead and tell your boyfriend what else you’re going to be feeding him.”

“Yes, Mistress,” she said in a clear voice, peering into the bucket. “There’s…um…I think it’s leftover stew, Ma’am. I can see chunks of potato and some fatty meat. Some bread, too. I can’t be sure what else is there, but little bits of stuff, Ma’am.”

“Oh, there’s lots of good things, cunt, and aren’t you so happy you’re going to be helping slut eat them? There’s…let’s see….we all spit in it to make sure it was nice and moist for you both, and a couple of us needed to sneeze this morning, so that’s there too. What else? Oh, there’s some leftover cereal from breakfast, egg shells, oh…remember when we shaved your pubic hair, cunt? Guess what? We wanted to make sure slut got enough roughage, so that’s in there too.”

Jesus Christ! I nearly puked at the thought of the crap they were going to make me suck from cunt’s mouth, but the knowledge that they’d just add my own vomit to the mixture was enough to convince me to do as they ordered. The look on cunt’s face as she slowly chewed the disgusting mixture, hearing the solid bits crunch between her molars, made me thankful that all I had to do was slurp it down.

Cunt had nearly finished feeding me when I heard the crunching sound of a vehicle’s tires approaching. Cunt’s body blushed bright red – and I’m sure mine did, too – as we heard the car stop and the door open, but neither of us dared to look up to see who was approaching.

“Very cute,” said a deep. male voice I’d heard before, but just couldn’t place. “A change in plans, girls,” he said. I heard shuffling as the cheerleaders walked away to discuss whatever the new arrival had to say. Cunt just kept feeding me, her eyes focused on mine in an effort to ignore whatever else was going on. A few minutes later, after the huddle broke up, whoever it was got back in her car and drove off.

“Okay, enough playing kissy-face,” Dominique said, accentuating her comment with a swift kick to my ribs, knocking me to my side. “Unfortunately, your fun-filled week is going to have to be cut short. Mary and Susan, go get slut cleaned up, just like we talked about. The rest of you, get cunt ready for tonight.”

I’m not sure what cunt knew that I didn’t, but there was a distinct look of fear in her eyes. I didn’t have much time to consider it, though, because Mary immediately grabbed my leash and yanked on it forcefully, the chain collar digging into my neck and causing me to cry out in pain.

Mary and Susan dragged me out into the back yard and chained me to the side of the shed – there were shackles already attached to the wall, so that I was bound standing upright in a spread-eagle position, completely helpless with my legs spread and arms held up at a 45 degree angle. They first took a garden hose to my naked body, using the nozzle’s forceful spray to wash the accumulated filth away. It hadn’t gotten all that warm today, and I shivered in the shade while they unhooked one appendage at a time to turn me around, then performed the same thing on my backside. While I drip-dried, Susan grabbed my hair and turned my head to the side, forcing the open end of a bottle of foul-tasting mouthwash over my lips, making me not only wash my mouth out, but swallow as well. While she was doing that, I felt the now-familiar sensation of a tube being forced past my anal ring, and then my belly being slowly filled with cold, soapy water. Apparently I was going to be clean, both inside and out. As the second bladder of water was flowing into me, my abdomen began cramping horribly, causing me to attempt to bend forward, which the chains on my wrist prevented. Instead of being allowed relief after the second quart was emptied into me, Mary deftly shoved a large, lubricated butt plug up my ass.

“Don’t worry, slut…you’ll be permitted to shit in a little bit. We just need to make sure you’re all nice and squeaky clean for tonight, and you’ll be thankful we stretched you out a bit, too,” she said by way of explanation. It wasn’t so much what she said as the way she said it, with both she and Susan giggling afterwards.

All rinsed off and with my intestines full of cold water, I expected the abuse was, at least for now, over. I was mistaken. Susan and Mary both brought out large, soft brushes and began spreading a thick, pink substance over my body. It caused a burning sensation at first touch, but neither girl took any notice as I squirmed in my bonds. Finishing with my backside, they waited about five minutes and then rinsed me off again before starting on the front. As they turned me around, I could see clumps of hair – I’d always had a hairy back – at my feet. They were applying some sort of depilatory crème, completely denuding my body of all hair. They began on my front, taking special care to the stubble around my groin. The only place they didn’t touch was anything above my neck; instead, they carefully shaved my face and neck using a razor and shaving cream. Except for my scalp, eyebrows and eyelashes, I was as hairless as a grape.

It wasn’t until they were through that they unfastened my ankles and wrists, allowing me to squat in the mud and remove the butt plug, releasing a forceful stream of filthy, shit-filled water. My legs were already splattered with my own shit, and I just collapsed there in the filthy puddle. The feces burned my tender, hairless skin, but I didn’t care. There was nothing more they could do to humiliate and degrade me. I was wrong again.

Ordering me to my feet, Susan made me stand on a small timber with my legs spread and hands clasped behind my head while she sprayed me off once again. This time it was a more gently stream, as the filth on my body was still wet. They then reattached the leash to my collar and led me back to the house. I was taken into the kitchen, given a little pink apron to wear, and told to prepare snacks and put bottles of beer on ice. She sat at the table watching my every move, ensuring I didn’t consume so much as a nibble of the meat and cheese tray or chips and dip I was instructed to prepare.

About an hour later, I heard cars pulling up. Susan rushed me to the front door and made me kneel there, knees spread and head bowed, while all the seniors on the varsity football team trooped in. They’d apparently just come from a practice, and were still garbed in dirty, sweat-stained uniforms. Most ignored my presence, but several made degrading comments, calling me a fucking faggot and things like that, while two spit on me. One reached down and grabbed my testicles, lifting me to my feet and squeezing, causing me to cry out in pain.

“That’s nothing compared to what you’re going to get tonight, bitch,” he laughed, letting me drop to the ground.

“Get your ass to work, slut!” Dominique commanded, ordering me to bring out the beer and snacks for her guests. I scrambled to obey their orders as they demanded refills of food and drink. Cunt was nowhere to be seen.

One of the players, a large, black running back, ordered me to take is shoes and socks off – using only my teeth – and massage his feet while he sipped on his third beer. When he complained that I wasn’t doing a very good job, Dominique had me kneel with my ass in the air so he could beat me with his belt. My already tender skin burned in pain with each stroke, and it only took three before I was crying. At that point, Dominique “suggested” that I beg forgiveness by giving his feet a tongue bath. It was the most disgusting thing I’d done to that point – even worse than changing tampons with my mouth – and as my tongue snaked between his filthy, sweaty toes, it was all I could do to keep from puking. Everyone just laughed, pointing out how I must be enjoying it since my dick was hard.

My humiliation ended – almost – once cunt was brought out and presented to the group. The men’s attention immediately changed focus to her. Naked except for a pair of pale blue stockings and stiletto heels, she teetered precariously as she presented her body to each of the men, each taking liberties by squeezing a breast or sliding a hand between her legs and feeling her now-hairless, obviously very wet cunt. Even I, fresh from having my nose against a filthy foot, could smell her need.

The team – assisted by the cheerleaders – began by putting cunt through her paces. She was made to display her body in the most lewd ways possible: bending over and spreading her ass cheeks, pulling her labia apart so everyone could peer right inside her, humping herself against knees and dirty football cleats. All the while, they made her tweak her own nipples and finger herself, so that she became more and more frantic, more and more willing to do anything to be permitted to cum. Finally, they promised her that if she could wrap her ankles behind her head, she would get what she so desperately needed.

She tried, and failed. She tried again, and again she was unable to prove herself flexible enough to do what was being demanded of her. Finally, Dominique offered to assist, but only if she first brought each of the eight cheerleaders to orgasm, using only her mouth and tongue. Starting with the youngest, Susan – mere minutes younger than her twin – cunt immediately dove in and began lapping at the older girl’s swollen gash with the ardor of a madwoman. Already aroused from watching the abuse cunt and I had been enduring, it was only a few minutes before Susan shuddered and let loose a loud moan, much to the delight of the audience. Susan’s cunt was quickly replaced by Debbie’s, followed by Roberta, Angela, Carmen, Debbie, Jeanette, and finally, Dominique herself. By the time Dominique lowered herself onto cunt, the young girl’s face was swollen, chaffed and covered in shiny, sticky fluid.

With all the girls finally sated – at least for now – they went to work helping cunt get into position. With one holding her shoulders, two others each took a leg and slowly, carefully bent her like a pretzel until her ankles were crossed behind her neck. Sitting directly in front of cunt, I could see her how swollen and painful her widely-spread vagina was, little more than a large, angry red gash between her splayed thighs. I couldn’t help but stare at her virginal hole, knowing that it wouldn’t remain in that state much longer. Cunt’s plight became more vivid when I saw that Dominique had actually bound the girl’s legs behind her neck, attaching the ankle restraints to her collar with a short length of chain. Additional restraints were then attached to her wrists, binding them painfully behind her back. Cunt was now completely helpless, totally exposed, and absolutely vulnerable for whatever abuses the football players had in mind.

Alors que la chatte me regardait avec impuissance, la peur de ce qui allait lui arriver se lisant sur son visage, je me suis mis au travail pour déshabiller chacun des joueurs. Treize hommes forts et musclés, dont neuf noirs, étaient sur le point de profiter des plaisirs du corps jusqu'alors intact de la chatte.

Les hommes baisèrent la chatte sans pitié pendant les heures qui suivirent, la prenant dans chaque trou au moins une fois chacun, me forçant à lécher leurs bites pour les nettoyer après que chacun eut eu son tour. Quand les trous de la chatte devinrent finalement trop remplis de sperme et trop mous pour leur plaisir, ils me mirent au travail là aussi, enfonçant ma main entre ses jambes et en me forçant à laper leurs fluides. On m'avait cependant prévenu que laisser la chatte jouir pendant que je léchais et suçais ses trous gonflés et maltraités signifierait une raclée comme je n'en avais jamais connu. À cause de cet avertissement, je pris soin de ne la taquiner que, en la léchant et en léchant doucement, jamais avec assez de contact pour la forcer à avoir un orgasme.

L'orgie entre filles a continué toute la soirée et tard dans la nuit, et je passais mon temps - quand je ne léchais pas du sperme ou ne nettoyais pas des bites avec ma bouche - à aller chercher des bières, à préparer des collations pour les pom-pom girls et leurs invités, ou simplement à m'agenouiller sur le sol, le nez pressé dans un coin comme un enfant coquin qu'on réprimande.

Mais finalement, même les plus beaux footballeurs étaient complètement défoncés et avaient besoin de faire une pause. Assises sur les canapés appuyés contre les murs, les pom-pom girls se blottissaient contre leurs petits amis, les caressant et se faisant caresser, tandis que le corps maltraité de la connasse restait exposé. Quelqu'un a finalement eu pitié d'elle, m'a lancé la clé de ses attaches et m'a ordonné de la libérer. Cependant, même après cela, son humiliation et sa dégradation étaient loin d'être terminées.

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Notez ceci :45 votes Partager ceci: FacebookX Chargement... En rapport Bruce l'esclave du coq 20 avril 2009 Dans "Auteur : Bruce" Sissy Bitch 30 janvier 2011 Dans "Auteur : Clausimotto" Problème de came 8 avril 2011 Dans "Auteur : AB" Publié par riana987 Classé dans Auteur : Rocky Tags : manger du sperme , domination féminine , écolière , jouets sexuels , sissification , miction , humiliation verbale 3 commentaires » 3 réponses à « Sissy Stepdad » bébé4pain dit :

14 novembre 2011 à 12h24 C'est une histoire merveilleuse. Cela donne envie à une tapette comme moi d'être utilisée de cette façon. Slup Slurp Suce... rougis

Répondre Iceblock dit :

25 février 2014 à 08:44 Belle histoire ! Il est très rare que j'aie envie d'en lire un aussi long jusqu'à la fin, mais celui-là je n'ai pas pu m'arrêter.

Répondre coucou dit :

12 décembre 2016 à 20h40 Est-ce qu’il y aura un jour une suite à cela ?

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