Wednesday, 29 February 2012

When the boyfriend arrives

Pretty undies.  Boyfriend ready. Sissy ready to sit and watch and cry his heart out.

Monday, 27 February 2012

Assuming the punishment position

A birthday present for Sir

It wasn't as if I disliked being dressed as a schoolgirl, but I did object to it being a present for my wife's boyfriend.  According to Sarah her boyfriend Jimmy had a thing for his girls being dressed up; nurses, secretaries, but best of all schoolgirls.  It was his birthday this week and Sarah had bought me all the gear.  "Don't think I'm going to be doing this.  Besides you look so sweet and he likes you", she said feeling my left buttock.  It did feel pretty sexy to me, but wearing it for Jimmy, that was a whole different matter.  And what else did I have to do to entertain him while dressed like this?

Friday, 24 February 2012

It is always good to have friends when dressing


Funnily enough I used to hate it when Madam used to milk me.  Every Sunday evening after dinner and after I had finished clearing the dishes away, she would call.  “Julie, please come up to your bedroom right now”.   I knew what was coming.   Madam would get me to take my panties down – the black satin panties with frills on would slide down my stocking covered legs and lie there at the bottom of my legs draped around my 2 inch heels.  Then I would be commanded to hitch my maids costume up to my waist and sit on the edge of the bed.
None of this was very pleasant to me, even if what Madam called my “little sissy clit” used to stand up on end in anticipation.  It was the rough way she would take hold of it and start pumping up and down.  It was also the way she used to start whispering in my ear; all sorts of things that to my innocent ears was just plain filthy. 
As she pumped she asked me questions:  “Well my little sissy, you do enjoy dressing up in your pretty things don’t you?  You love your panties and bras and petticoats and pink finery?”  And then I would have to answer “yes, I love my panties”.  She would grab my chin in her other hand and shout “louder sissy, I can’t hear you”.  And I would have to shout out the answers.
“Yes, I love to wear panties”
“yes, I love to dress up in frills and satins and lace and feel all feminine”.
“Yes, I love to server Madam and Master in whatever way they want”
“yes, I love to eat Masters cum from Madam’s pussy”
“yes, I love it when Master feels my bottom while I do the dishes”
“Yes I love the way his cock feels”
“Yes, I love it when Master spurts his cum all over my panties and stocking tops”
“Yes, I have wet dreams thinking about Masters cock”
It wouldn’t take long before my little sissy clit would be dribbling.  Madam would hold my head and whisper “Good girl” into my ear and then “quick girl catch it in your hand”.  I would then have to catch the little bit of cum and then eat it off my hand.  It was good job that there never was very much. 
Nowadays I don’t mind the milking quite so much.  After all it is almost the only relief that I get as I’m not allowed to cum at any other time.  And these days Master often comes into the room too and the sight of him with his cock in his hands makes the whole experience a little better.   It helps a lot to be able to see his cock and imagine that it is his cock inside me making me cum.   It is also the squeals of delight when I do cum that tells Madam and Master that now at last I am enjoying my milking sessions.

Monday, 20 February 2012

Oh no...failed panty inspection again!

Sweet and innocent....just how Sir likes them part 2

Sweet and innocent....just how Sir likes them part 1

What to do about nightwear?


Nightwear can be such a problem.  I'm not sure I like the pyjama look , whereas the plain nightshirt has its advantages.  Certainly it prevents no barriers when I want to play with myself.  **blush**


I think I like the babydoll look best of all and the range of matching panties means that I feel as sexy as any sissy ought.

Mind you wearing nothing in bed has its advantages if you want to feel close to someone!

Dressed and ready for work part 3

Wednesday, 15 February 2012

More lovely bows

Clean up

The front door closed with a bang.  He had left at last, and I pulled my head out from under the duvet and dried my eyes. 
It was so difficult to understand that my wife Fiona needed someone else to give her “a rough fuck”, rather than what she described as the “little dribble from the pathetic thing you call a cock”.  It was harder still being in the house when she brought home the rag bag of men she picked up from who knows where.  It was now almost every other day she had someone with her.
When she came through the door with her latest I retreated to my bedroom - what used to be the ‘spare’ bedroom - slipped out of the skirt, top and heels I had on, and just in my panties and bra buried myself underneath my duvet and began to weep silently.  I felt thoroughly sorry for myself and the situation I was in, not made any easier by the noises coming from the adjoining master bedroom.  It was as if they were having a row the noise they were making initially, but it was the moaning and the shouting…..”yes, just there…..yes, faster….” I couldn’t ignore however hard I buried my head under the pillow.  And the moment of climax as Fiona screamed like some primeval beast made my tears and sobs come faster than before.
Now he was gone and I sat up and tried my best to pull myself together.  I would have to hurry as she would want me.  No time to touch up my makeup, or even dress as I heard her shouting.  “Emily, get in here NOW”.  I put the heels on and went into her bedroom – what had been our bedroom only a few short weeks ago.  As I went through the door I could tell the lovemaking had been violent as the room and bed were a mess, with bedclothes pulled off the bed onto the floor, and the bedside table knocked over and lying on its side.  Fiona was lying on top of the bed in a state of considerable dishevelment  and legs akimbo;  her hair that had earlier been up was in a mixed tangle splayed out on the bed, and she obviously hadn’t had time to remove her clothes as they were half on her, half ripped off and scattered across the floor.  The blouse she had on was off her shoulders but the bra underneath seemed to have been almost ripped off as it lay in two broken bits on the floor.    As I came in she raised her head and smiled.  “Cute” she said, obviously commenting on the bra and panties with the white lace trim, and little red heart motif, that I had put on this morning.
“Come over here Emily. I need you to help me clear up”.  This wasn’t an unusual situation as I often came in to run her bath and clear up after her love making sessions, but it was something in her eye that told me that this time things might be a little different.  “Get up here and get your tongue between my legs”.  “…oh please Ma’am don’t….” was all I could get out before she shouted “GET ON THIS BED NOW”.  Fiona could be so wicked when she was in a temper that I found myself giving a little squeal and climbing up onto the bed  as quickly as I could almost tripping over the bedsheets and the heels I had on.  There was no getting out of this.
I began by kissing the inside of her thigh, but I could see that her pussy was covered in a mountain of thick looking diaphanous gloop that must be the man’s come.  The panties had been pulled aside but I could see his come glistening on the panties as well.  “Not there…there”, Fiona commanded as with a firm hand to the back of my head, she guided my head into her pussy.  There was nothing I could do but lick the come and continue licking.  It has an odd taste but it wasn’t something I had had a choice in so I just got on with licking her pussy as best as I was able.

She then started telling me about the man she was with.  That she had picked him up at the bar near work, and that she fancied his muscular physique.  That she had asked him to come back to her place and fuck her.  That he had an enormously long and thick cock and knew how to use it.  That he had been rough with her and thrown her on the bed, ripping off her skirt.  She told me how hot she was for him, how she wanted him to take her roughly, and how he was a real man rather than the pathetic wimp she had married.
The combination of her talk and being between my wife’s legs giving her aching pussy a licking, made me pretty excited, and what Fiona called my “little girl clitty” became stiff with excitement.   I was licking her and running my tongue up and down her pussy with real enthusiasm now; I hadn’t realised that Fiona no longer had her hand on the back of my head.
Fiona then began to describe how the man had sat astride her with his cock between her breasts before sliding down and slipping it into her pussy.  Fiona described it so vividly, in the way that he filled her up, how she was afraid she couldn’t take him all the way in, and how it felt he would split her in two.  And when she came it was the best feeling in the world, something that I couldn’t ever give her.  And as she described the way he came inside her and continued to come as he withdrew, Fiona came again, with this time my mouth in position to capture her juices.    
As she came I came as well or at least as much as I was now capable of.  My cock twitched and I could feel the come making the silky material of the panties wet. 
For once I had made Fiona pleased as she patted me on the head and said “Good girl”.  I glowed with pleasure as Fiona didn’t give out words of praise lightly.  I had pleased her and I must say I enjoyed the experience as well.    “Now then Emily go and change and come back and run me a bath”.  I fairly skipped across the room to change my panties and slip into some other gorgeous costume.  Next time Fiona brings home a man I hope she will let me lick her afterwards again was my only thought.

Monday, 13 February 2012

Dressed and ready to serve

Sarah's pleasure

The man my wife brought home pleased her in a way that I never could.  You could see the pleasure in her face as I stood by the door watching them.  When he had finished and Sarah lay on the bed in an exhausted but happy heap, all I could do was curtsey with a quick bob, and say "Thank you, Sir".  And I meant it.  After all I loved my wife and wanted her to have whatever made her happy, and anyone with eyes could see how much pleasure Sir had managed to give her in just one short afternoon.

Masters inspection

I'd do anything for a present of a pretty ribbon for my hair

Don't you just love bows and ribbons?

Friday, 10 February 2012


When my wife, Gemma, told me that she wanted me to take the wifely role and to dress accordingly I cried my heart out.  “Aren’t you happy?” I asked her.  “Don’t we have a good life the way we are?” I asked as I wept.  “Little one, this isn’t for me. This is for you. This is to make you complete and happy”.  At that moment it didn’t feel like it, it felt like the end of my existence.
I cried again the first time she dressed me.  Admittedly my little penis gave things away the first time the pair of pink panties was pulled up my legs.   “Somebody seems to like it”, she commented with a smile.  The matching pink bra was so awkward to put on and the little pink tutu, garter and stockings, was all too much for me.  “I look ridiculous”, I cried as Gemma pulled me towards her and buried my face in her ample bosom.  “Now listen to me John, you do not look ridiculous; you look sweet and you are going to be your Gemma’s little girl. Now dry those eyes and pull yourself together”.  Gemma sat me at her makeup table and began pottering around me with foundation, blusher, lipstick and the hundred and one pots of this and tubes of that on her bureau.  As she did so she talked soothingly so that within half an hour I was calmer and breathing a little easier.
It wasn’t easy in those first days. I still had bad days when all I could do was weep, but gradually my life began to take shape.  Gemma had the spare room redecorated and this became my pink palace, with pink bed cover and curtains and a lovely deep pink carpet.  There were draws and cupboards that ever so slowly began to fill up with the things that Gemma began to buy me.  I had one draw for panties, and another for bras and stockings and garter belts.  Petticoats were in a separate draw, and a range of skirts, tops and dresses began to appear in the wardrobe, along with some shoes, all with frightening looking heels.  In amongst the dresses were two perfect maids dresses, one in pink and one in black and this is what Gemma increasingly asked me to wear around the house.  
It wasn’t easy.  Every time I dressed in the morning I felt as I did the first time.  I felt like a freak in a circus.  Gemma didn’t seem to understand or want to understand.  “Now stop crying and pull yourself together.  You look lovely, so dry those eyes and just get on with things.  For goodness sake, Julia” - she called me Julia now – “I am doing all this for you”.  With my pink maids costume that had a skirt line that splayed out leaving my matching panties and stockings on display, and shoes that I balanced on precariously I found it hard to see how this was for my benefit.
Gemma had thrown my boys clothes out within a few days of the start, but several weeks later as I was doing the laundry I found a pair of my old boxer shorts tucked behind the washing machine.  I immediately slipped off my panties and put the boxers on, trying even for a moment to recapture some of the old feeling of being a male.  I drew them up my legs, but almost immediately I felt disappointed.  They felt rough and unfamiliar compared to the smooth feeling of the panties, and almost immediately I changed out of them and back into the panties, carefully putting the boxer shorts back where I had found them.  Somehow the panties made me strangely excited – I often got a hard on as soon as I put them on in the morning - and that feeling of being on an erotic edge seemed to last most of the day.  I was no longer sure I wanted to go back to boys clothes.
I began not to begrudge dressing in the morning quite so much, and the tears at least partially began to subside.  If only I looked a little bit more convincing as a female.  Gemma had started me on a course of pills and injections almost at the beginning.  She never told me what they were for, but after a few weeks I noticed my body changing; my hips began to move outwards and there were definite developments in my breast area.   Gemma was also a very good teacher in the dark arts of makeup, and soon I was doing a passable job of doing my own.  But I still believed I looked like a bad drag act.
One day Gemma popped her head round the bedroom door and announced “we are going shopping – be ready in 10 minutes”.  I started to panic. I never went out and couldn’t possibly go out looking like this.  “But Gemma I can’t…..”  Gemma cut me short. “No arguments, you are coming clothes shopping with me…now slip into that pencil skirt I bought you last week”.  It was no use; I had to go.  I spent the ten minutes making myself as presentable as I could, and cringed as I looked in the mirror.  I don’t think I could take any catcalls from the teenagers who hung around the Mall.  I think I would rather die than go through that.
In the event it wasn’t so bad.  I was very nervous and had decided that I could get through it if I just avoided eye contact with everyone.  This made Gemma a little infuriated “…please could you look at the assistant when you are discussing the sort of panties you are looking for…” she complained, but the whole afternoon passed without incident and I was soon back safe at home.  Gemma took me out shopping every Saturday afternoon from that point onwards and my confidence began to grow slowly.  Either everyone was too polite to say anything or they just didn’t realise I was not who they thought I was.
A minor triumph came one afternoon when Gemma had a final stop to make and asked me to make my own way back to the car park.  I noticed a group of about a dozen teenagers of about 16 or 17 hanging around at the car park entrance, not doing anything but talking and watching people go by.  I hesitated, but there was no other way of getting to the car park; I would have to go past them.  With my eyes facing forwards not looking at them I just walked slowly past them.  As I reached a point well past them and I began to feel relieved one of the boys gave me a wolf whistle.  I blushed and felt strangely confused, but also quite pleased.
In fact from that point my confidence increased no end to the point when one Saturday afternoon Gemma accused me of flirting with one of the male shop assistants.  I remember being conscious of how good looking he was – which in itself was unusual because I had never up to that point noticed men or whether they were good looking or not.  According to Gemma I was making eyes at him and fluttering my eyelids and generally pouting.  All I remember is imagining how it would feel if he kissed me.
It was about a month after that that Darryl came into my life.  It seemed that Gemma had begun ordering a load of stuff online for delivery while she was out at work.  I wasn’t quite sure what the things were, but it was Darryl who would deliver the boxes.  It seemed every other day he would turn up at the door with a parcel, and we got chatting and once or twice I invited him in for coffee.  He was big, black, muscular and very good looking, and he was easy to talk to.  My daydreams seemed to now revolve around Darryl; me in Darryl’s arms, Darryl caressing me and kissing me, my hands around Darryl’s cock.  I often woke up with soaking wet panties.
It was really all a mistake when it happened.  I was just seeing Darryl to the door when I tripped and he caught me.  I ended up in his arms, and as I looked up at him, he kissed me.  Not just a peck but an honest to goodness full blooded kiss.  And I kissed him back and for a moment everything in the world was just fantastic.  It was as if fireworks had gone off, and I snuggled further into his arms.  Gently, as if I weighed nothing at all, he picked me up and carried me into my bedroom.  His hands roamed over me, reaching inside my panties.  I wanted him and he wanted me, and I undid his belt and opened the top of his trousers. My dreams hadn’t disappointed me because he was huge.  As he kissed me, he gently moved his cock into position next to my sissy clit …..”please, please be gentle with me….”, and he ever so gently pushed his cock into my sissy clit, moving aside my panties with his hand.  It was as if he was splitting me in two, filling me up, and was excruciatingly painful at first.  But after that it felt like nothing else on earth other than a bolt of electricity going straight through me.  My eyes opened wide and I smiled at Darryl as he gently began moving backwards and forwards at a slow rhythm.  “Please Darryl….more…..go faster please....” I could hear myself saying, and he quickened his pace.  In one moment we both came, as he spurted his load inside me and over my panties as he withdrew, but I was away and lost in another world.
After that Darryl made even more visits whether there was anything to deliver or not.  Our afternoons of love making were marvellous and spectacular, and even Gemma when she came home accused me of having a “glow” about me.   There were no more tears now, I seemed to glide round the house in a trance, happy and yet desperate to see Darryl again.
It was somewhat of a surprise when one evening Gemma came through the door with Darryl.  For a moment I thought my world was going to collapse once again; somehow she had found out about Darryl.  But Gemma explained.  “This is my friend Darryl who I asked to come to the house.  I hope you have enjoyed your afternoons with Darryl”.  I stood open mouthed.  Gemma had known about this all along; in fact she had set it up.  I stood with my mouth open, not knowing what to say.  Gemma came and held me close, as she used to do in the early days, and spoke soothingly.  “Its OK my Little One, I was only doing this for you.  I thought you needed a little company.  Was I wrong?”   She wasn’t wrong; I loved the way Darryl held me, and caressed my breasts, the way he gently kissed me, but most of all the way he fucked me and made me his woman.  I looked up and smiled and shook my head.  ”Good”, said Gemma turning me round and gently patting me on the bottom.  “Now you and Darryl run along and play”. 
It was after that evening, and when Darryl moved in with us, that everything fell into place. I realised that Gemma had been right and I was more happy and complete than I had ever been.  How could this compare with the life I had before?  I had a wife to look after, and now Darryl to love, to hold, and to play with in every way imaginable.  And even if I had to share Darryl with Gemma occasionally that was alright too.  It was quite a sight Gemma and I, like a couple of sisters, giving Darryl’s cock our full attention.

Look beautiful even when your shoes are killing you

Lesson 2: always be ready for your Master

Tuesday, 7 February 2012

First time

Please Sir, be gentle with me. It is my first time.

Don't you just love these panties?

A good spanking

It was always the same when he spanked me.  First the questions as he raised his stick again and again.  “You have been lazy today haven’t you Emily?”.  “Yes, Sir”, was the required answer.  “You haven’t done any of the housework I left you”.  “No, Sir”.  “And you have been thinking bad thoughts?”  “Yes Sir”.  “You have been dreaming of cocks again haven’t you Emily and making your panties wet?  “Yes Sir.”  The stick came down again and again and made me cry with frustration.  It was true I had been daydreaming again, and imagining myself with all sorts of men.  I had cum in my pretty black satin panties and had had to change.  I deserved it all.  It was always at the point when I was at my lowest with my head on the table and whimpering like some cornered beast, that I felt Sir’s cum on my red raw bottom.  He had released his cream onto my bottom and with a finger I began to rub it in to sooth the rawness.  It was then I could smile with relief that it was over and joy that Sir had once again chosen me to satisfy his needs.

Wednesday, 1 February 2012


It wasn’t as if I wanted this and yet it wasn’t as if I had been forced.  I guess it is just how it was.
When we had married Sonia always seemed to take the lead in just about everything.   Sonia organised the bills, owned and drove the car, and even the house was in her name.  She told me what to do and when to do it and all I had to do in return was do some of the clearing up around the house, the occasional load of laundry, some cooking and general housework.  It seemed so natural that it was this way.  As Sonia said it was the way that was most comfortable for both of us, her being a natural leader and me being a natural follower.  I was just happy to be around her and of course her obvious talents in bed were an added fringe benefit.
It was when she told me to start dressing in her panties and bra that, at least at first, seemed all a little unnatural.   It wasn’t just a request – I don’t think Sonia was capable of suggesting or hinting – she just came out and said it.   “John we really need to have a talk about your appearance…..” was her introduction just as we were going to bed.  “Frankly lately you have been letting yourself go with those jeans and sweatshirt.  And when was the last time you bought new underwear?”     I didn’t like the way this conversation started and certainly didn’t like the way it continued.  “ I would have thought that you would look better in mine.  Now that’s not a bad idea.”, seemingly just having had the thought.  “ From tomorrow dear I want you to wear mine…….”.  I was more than a little stunned.  “I couldn’t do that honey……” was all the feeble protest I managed to get in before she led me over to her panties draw and began rifling through.  She pulled out several pairs “….now, these would be good for you….” Holding them up against me she was assessing this pair and then another.  “Try these”,  and before I knew it she had me take my underpants off and I was putting on a pair of polka dot with lace trim satin panties.  I was beginning to protest, but the feeling of the satin and lacy trim going up my legs made my cock stand up.  “I can see someone likes it”.  “So that is settled”, she said as I just stood there open mouthed.
I had thought that this was just a passing fancy and she would have forgotten about it in the morning, but when I woke up she was at the end of the bed with the same panties and a matching bra twirling them from the end of her finger.  “Come on Mr Sleepyhead, come and get dressed”.   How was I going to get out of this?  I began to feebly protest again, but she wasn’t having any of it.  “Come on John please cooperate”.  It was no use and I reluctantly pulled on the panties and bra.  My cock was aroused by the material and stuck up over the top of the panties; I was ashamed of the traitorous piece of equipment that was making me seem as if I was enjoying all this.  And the bra seemed impossible to put on, but once complete all Sonia said was “sweet”.  What did that mean?   At least I could hide them under my old sweatshirt and jeans and that for the first couple of days is what I did.
The curious thing was that the material seemed to rub up against me all day and leave me in a sense of erotic suspension.  When we went to bed that night Sonia, always the initiator of sex, took me as she usually did, riding on top and for some reason the sex was more wonderful than it had ever been.
I was still kind of waiting for her to forget all about the whole thing so that we could get back to normal, but on the second and third day she was there with more panties and bras.  By the fourth day she also added a garter belt and black stockings which felt wonderful.   By day five she had a little wrap round skirt and crop top for me to wear as well.  “I can’t wear that” ,  I protested.  “Someone might see”.
“Nonsense, all you are doing today is working round the house…who is going to see?”  She had a point, but I was still reluctant to lose the protection of my trusty jeans and sweatshirt which I had figured could hide whatever she usually had in mind for me.  I gulped, but I could see from the way she was looking at me and had a hand on her hip that she just wasn’t going to take no for an answer.  The tapping of her toe on the carpet also told me that she was not going to wait all morning.    I put on the pink panties and bra she was holding, the black garter belt I had been wearing all week, and some black stockings and the skirt and crop top.    Sonia came up behind me and whispered in my ear; ”you look wonderful dear.  Thank you.”
And that was it really.  I hadn’t been forced into it, and I hadn’t looked for it.  After several weeks it just once again became the natural order of things.  Sonia added all sorts of other garments; a lovely petticoat, several slips, and a corset (to help my figure she said).  She also helped with makeup and we went shoe shopping (but that is another story).  I seemed just as happy as I had been before, and the sex was altogether on a different level to that went before.  Sonia would make me play this game where I was her ladies maid and would be ordered to lick her pussy.  I was her Sissy and she was my Mistress., and afterwards she would ride me until I was utterly exhausted but enormously satisfied.   I can no longer remember why I would want to go back to how things were before.

In service part 3

In service part 2

In service