Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Sissy Story Archives (older stories) => Pre-2011 Sissy Stories => Topic started by: littlebetsy on November 20, 2006, 03:15:26 PM
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HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 1
“Oh, Mommy, it’s such a femmy little thing!” Mandy squealed as the shiny wrapping paper came off her birthday present. Mandy’s braided blond pigtails danced in the air as she jumped with excitement.
Standing before her was a frail creature, barely five feet high, with milk white skin, very large blue eyes, and blond hair styled in a cute Shirley Temple perm. The little thing was attired in white Mary Jane shoes, pink stockings, stiff white petticoats and a tiny pink dress that scarcely attempted to hide the adorable frilly pink panties underneath.
Mandy approached this living doll and let her fingers play with the enormous ribbon in the sissy’s hair and with the puffed sleeves of its satin dress.
“Oh, Mommy, what’s its name?”
Mrs. Daniels smiled and tossed back her long mane of light brown curls. “Tell Mandy your name, dear.”
For a moment the girlish thing said nothing, its blue eyes growing larger and its glossy lower lip trembling uncontrollably. Finally, its elfin mouth opened, and a tiny voice squeaked, “M-m-my name isth Muffin, and I’m a thissy.” This announcement was followed by a well-practiced curtsy.
Mandy and Mrs. Daniels both burst into laughter -- for what the thing said and for the ridiculously high pitch of its voice.
“Muffin! It’s the perfect name for such a little fairy,” Mandy declared, regaining her composure. “I can’t believe it! My very own sissy, and it just couldn’t look any sweeter. I can’t wait to show it off to Karen.” Karen was Mandy’s best friend -- and fiercest rival. The two were generally acknowledged to be the smartest, prettiest and most athletic girls at Winship Academy. And they were in a constant two-person race for over-achievement. Karen excelled at math, but Mandy scored higher in Latin. Karen was the better gymnast, but Mandy usually beat her on the tennis court. Only in cheerleading, were the two girls equals, sharing the rank of co-captains of the squad. When Karen turned 16, her parents gave her a red convertible sports car. Three months later on Mandy’s birthday, she asked for and received the very same make of car, only in black.
The following year, Karen’s birthday present was something that more and more affluent families were getting for their spoiled daughters: her very own sissy. It was a lovely little confection with long red hair, pale freckled skin and a turned-up nose. Its name was Shortcake and became Karen’s prized possession. Visiting one sissy store after another, Karen bought dozens of frilly, skimpy, outrageously femmy outfits for the diminutive pansy and led it around like a puppy everywhere -- to school, to cheerleading practice, to the mall on Saturdays. Karen even dragged Shortcake along on dates with her boyfriend Roger, the devilishly handsome star quarterback of the football team.
One Sunday morning Karen confided to Mandy, “I got home at two a.m. last night. I don’t know whose clothes and makeup were more mussed up, mine or Shortcake’s!”
“Don’t you get jealous when Roger touches Shortcake?”
“Of course not, silly! Who could be jealous of a stupid little plaything like Shortcake? Besides, it takes the pressure off me. Roger is horny 24/7 and gets to do things to Shortcake that I won’t let him do to me.”
Mandy and Karen then dissolved into giggles.
Not to be outdone, Mandy whined to her mother for weeks about getting her own sissy. “Please, Mommy, I promise I’ll train it, dress it, supervise it, and spank it whenever it’s bad. Karen’s sissy does all the housework, and Karen’s mom loves it. Her mom says Shortcake is -- what’s the word? -- ‘orally talented’ and great for relieving stress and tension.”
All Mrs. Daniels would say was, “We’ll see, darling.” But Mandy could tell from her mother’s sly smile that she had already been convinced. This morning Mandy knew exactly what was in the big package even before she undid the ribbon.
“I love it already,” Mandy exclaimed and placed her arms around the petite sissy’s waist to hold it close. At this attention, her pink birthday present sighed deeply and fluttered its long eyelashes. “Mmmm, it even smells like a baby,” said Muffin’s new owner. “ I bet it cost a lot didn’t it?”
“Yes, Muffin was the most expensive sissy in the showroom,” admitted Mrs. Daniels as she balled up the wrapping paper that the gift had been concealed in. “But I couldn’t resist the little thing. I want you to know that of all the pansies available for purchase this month, Muffin is the one that was most like a little girl.”
“No kidding! I swear it looks just like a six-year old, and that squeaky voice is so funny! Let’s hear it again. Whose little sissy are you, Muffin?”
The pathetic thing blushed, curtseyed and then squeaked, “I’m pwoperty of Missth Mandy Danielsth.”
Mandy whooped and bounced up and down in delight, her blond braids and short cheerleading skirt flying up and down. “Oh, I can’t wait to buy it some silly-frilly clothes and take it to school with me Monday! I’ll be the envy of every girl -- including Karen!”
(To be continued.)
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HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 2
“I’ve already bought a few starter outfits for the sissy,” Mrs. Daniels explained. “It has a little sun suit, a short nightie, a ballet outfit, a blue velvet dress for going out at night, and a half dozen extra-fancy panties. They are all hanging in my bedroom closet.”
“Awesome! I want to try each one on Muffin right now! C’mon, prissy pants!”
“Um, Mandy, there is one thing you should know about your new sissy.”
“What, Mommy?”
“With its little-girl clothes on, Muffin looks like it could be your younger sister. But underneath it’s really a boy.”
“Well, duh!” said the pretty cheerleader with a roll of her eyes. “That’s what a sissy is -- a boy who’s a weakling. You know, a fairy that can be pushed around and made to wear girl clothes or baby clothes and do whatever you tell it to do. Of course I know it’s got a little pecker in its panties. Don’t forget, I’ve seen Shortcake lots of times with its panties pulled down for spankings.”
“Yes, but Shortcake has a tiny pen-is, doesn’t it, darling?”
Mandy tittered at the thought. “Yeah, it looks like a little baby’s. Even when it’s hard it’s still less than two inches. That’s why Shortcake is a sissy. Sissies don’t have regular pen-ises like real guys.”
“Yes, but some sissies may be a little bigger in that area.”
Mandy’s beautiful face frowned for the first time that morning. “So what are you saying?
Mrs. Daniels turned to the little thing in curls and ruffles. “Muffin, be a good sissy and hold your petticoats up in front.”
“Yesth, ma’am,” it lisped, and complied by pulling the mass of white taffeta above its waist. The self-supporting pink stockings and pink panties with white ruffles were now on full display.
Mrs. Daniels knelt beside the nervous creature and placed her fingers behind the elastic waistband of its panties. The cool touch of the sexy woman’s soft hands was electrifying; the sissy trembled and became slightly unsteady.
“Be still, baby, or you’ll be spanked!” Mrs. Daniels said sharply. Then with a single quick jerk, the dainty panties were brought down to Muffin’s ankles.
Mandy stared in shock. Standing before her was, in all respects but one, a simpering girlish figure: a cherubic face framed with golden curls, a petite torso with very narrow waist, long slender legs. The picture was spoiled only by the unsightly pen-is that hung between the stocking tops. Not only was the thing at least three inches in length, it was growing in size and rigidity even as Mandy and her mother gazed at it. On any normal boy the pen-is would look average, perhaps a bit less than average in size. But on a little-girl sissy, it looked positively grotesque.
“Oh my god!” breathed Mandy “It’s got a guy’s dic-k! What kind of sissy would have a regular guy’s dic-k? I hate it! Take it away, Mommy! It’s gross! It’s hideous! I don’t want it!”
“But darling, it’s a perfectly lovely sissy with its panties on. You’ll be able to dress it and play with it and boss it around just like Karen does with Shortcake.”
“I don’t want it. It’s not a real sissy. Real sissies have little baby dic-kies. That’s what makes them so funny and cute. This is a freak. Take it back and get me another one.”
“I’m sorry, Mandy It’s a non-refundable purchase.”
“Then take out a classified ad or sell it on e-Bay. Lots of girls I know want to have their own sissy.”
“Young lady, I’ve gone to a great deal of expense for you. I think you should at least give it a chance.”
“I don’t want it, I said! It’s a, um . . . monstrosity. If you keep it here, I’ll be mean to it. I’ll make its life miserable. I’ll make the little thing suffer and cry all day long!”
Mandy balled her fists and stamped her foot. A teen girl used to having her own way is a terrible force of nature. One can only pity whatever stands in her way -- especially something much smaller and weaker like the dainty sissy named Muffin.
(To be continued.)
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HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 3
“Mandy!” exclaimed Mrs. Daniels. “You can’t punish your plaything out of meanness. You should only discipline a sissy for disobedience.”
The girl pouted, her green eyes glowing with malice, her proud chest heaving under her crossed arms. “Fine. Then you can punish it now. A sissy isn’t supposed to act like a boy. But just look at the brat. It’s got an erection and it’s pointing it at me! Have you ever seen anything so rude?”
Mrs. Daniels stood up and placed her hands on her hips. Her daughter was right, of course. Controlling erections was a part of any proper training program for an effeminate slave. The ideal sissy thought only of pleasing its owner, not itself.
Mrs. Daniels tapped her foot. “Muffin, get rid of that erection right now!”
Muffin reached down to push the ugly pointing member back between its legs. But Mrs. Daniels would have none of it.
“Sissy, shame on you! Did I tell you to drop your petticoats or touch your naughty wee-wee?”
“N-n-no, ma’am,” it stuttered, and hurriedly pulled the petticoats back up, only to show that the pen-is, which had by now brushed against the stiff taffeta, was even harder than before.
“You get only one warning in this household, missy! I won’t repeat it!” The ominous tapping of Mrs. Daniel’s foot continued.
The pathetic sissy was in a terrible panic. Its hairless crotch and fanny were fully exposed to the relentless and disdainful gaze of two very sexy ladies. Despite her anger and hostility, the blond cheerleader had cast a powerful spell over the trembling creature in ribbons and lace. The petticoated fairy was completely undone by Mandy’s haughty, heartbreakingly perfect face, her smooth, athletic legs flexing beneath the short skirt, and her assertive young br*asts straining against her tight uniform. And, her mother, a stunning professional model, was also provocatively attired, in tight white short-shorts and tube top. As a sissy, Muffin knew that any command must be followed instantly and without thinking. But the loveliness of the women left it weak, helpless and unable to master the throbbing hardness between its legs.
“That’s it, princess, time’s up,” said Mrs. Daniels with a toss of her long brown curls. “Give me your hand, Muffin. We’re going to show you how sissies who try to act like boys get punished.”
The dainty thing in pink burst into tears, but nonetheless surrendered its little hand to Mrs. Daniels as instructed. She led it out of the living room with a determined, brisk stride. Unfortunately, for the disobedient sissy, its panties were still gathered at its ankles and the silly thing could barely keep up with the tall woman’s long, graceful steps. Inevitably the pansy tripped and fell forward, provoking a peal of giggles from Mandy. Undeterred, Mrs. Daniels simply yanked the frail thing back to its feet and continued. Muffin’s tragic, frightened sobs filled the room but fell on indifferent ears.
A smile had returned to Mandy’s exquisite lips. Her whole body thrilled at the sight of the panty-hobbled fairy being led to its first punishment. Maybe this frilly toy could be more than just a status symbol to dangle in front of her friends. Why couldn’t a sissy be punished out of meanness? Tormenting her little crybaby with its absurd outsized dic-k might prove quite entertaining. She thought for a moment and then skipped lightly down the hall after her mother and Muffin.
Maybe her birthday present would turn out to be fun after all.
(To be continued)
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HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 4
When Mandy entered her mother’s expensively decorated bedroom she found Mrs. Daniels in the midst of preparations for Muffin’s punishment. A straight-backed chair had been placed in front of the red velvet bed bench. Mrs. Daniels had also assembled a dozen or so white Velcro straps. The sissy was ordered to sit in the chair and Mrs. Daniels proceeded to attach its slender wrists to the chair’s back and its darling pink-stockinged ankles and knees to the chair’s front legs. Longer straps around the puny creature’s torso held up the front of its dress and petticoats and made sure that the precious prisoner would have scant room to wriggle during the ordeal. The lovely woman in the white short-shorts and tube top went about these duties cheerfully, smiling and humming to herself as if she were engaged in a mundane task such as putting on earrings or lipstick.
Finally with everything in place, she a took a seat on the bench in front of the bound fairy and with a pat of her hand indicated that Mandy was to sit next to her. All the while the naughty sissy’s whimpering had only increased. The poor thing had no idea what terror awaited it, and its little brain could only fear the worse. Nonetheless, its insolent p*nis had lost none of its rigidity -- due in large part to the close proximity of the stunning disciplinarian, her intoxicating perfume, and the teasing, caressing touches she employed in securing Muffin to the chair.
Mrs. Daniels began the drama by slowly pulling on a pair of white latex gloves. She then leaned forward, gazed directly into the sissy’s wide, blue, tear-filled eyes and gently touched its thigh just where the pink stocking top ended.
In a whisper dripping with equal parts innocence and seduction, the beautiful woman said, “Muffin, dear, do you know why you’re being punished?”
Sob. “Y-y-yesth.” Sob.
“Tell me why, sweetie.”
Sob. “M-m-my widdle wee-wee g-g-got stiff. And . . . and it isthn’t thupposthed to.”
“That’s right, precious. Little fairies like you have to keep their wee-wees nice and soft and teensy-weensy. Do you know why that is, Muffin?”
The abject creature opened its little pink lips to speak. Unfortunately the poor thing’s feeble brain could not provide it with any words to express.
“But I insist on an answer, little sissy.” A moment passed, as Muffin struggled to respond. Finally the alluring woman sighed with affected regret. “Poor thing. Perhaps this will help you to think.” With that, she picked up a small hairbrush. Barely five inches in length, it was made of pink plastic with white bristles. Mandy guessed that it was intended for a child, for brushing her doll’s hair or her own.
With her other gloved hand the smirking woman grasped Muffin’s erect member at its base and jerked down, making the taut skin even tighter. Never had Muffin been touched there by so beautiful a woman, and the sissy emitted an adorable gasp.
“See if this helps, baby,” she drawled with mock concern and began gently stroking the head of the naughty sissy-pen-is. With each stroke the tiny bristles of the little girl’s hairbrush rasped against the tight purplish tip of Muffin’s boy-thing. As she performed this service, Mrs. Daniels resumed humming a gentle melody. Mandy recognized it as “London Bridges Falling Down.”
However, the tune could hardly be heard over the bound fairy’s girlish but piercing screams.
“Eeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeee!” The silly little pansy strained at its bounds, tried to escape, tried to stop the terrible little pink brush, tried to wiggle its little pelvis out of reach. But the lovely Mrs. Daniels had done her job well. Muffin was firmly restrained and there to stay. The gentle stroking and humming continued.
“Eeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeee! Oh, pwease sthop it!”
Mandy squealed with laughter. She knew that sissies were weaklings, but she never imagined that anyone could be reduced to infantile screams so quickly and with such modest chastisement.
“God, what a ridiculous little crybaby!” jeered Mandy between laughs. “I’ve never seen anything so silly. You barely touched it with that baby’s brush and it begs for mercy. What a wimp! How pathetic it is! Just listen to all the fuss it’s making. Eee-eee-eee, pwease sthop,” mocked the snooty teen girl imitating the fairy’s squeaky lisp. Mandy then surrendered to another convulsion of laughter.
Mrs. Daniels grinned at her daughter’s uncanny mimicry and nodded. “Yes, your darling princess went from little girl to baby girl in just two seconds.”
“Well, good! It deserves to be punished just for being such a spineless coward,” said Mandy, her green eyes glowing with the foretaste of future cruelty. “Brush its rude dic-kie harder, Mommy!”
(To be continued)
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HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 5
But instead of resuming the discipline, Mrs. Daniels put down the child’s brush and leaned back to survey her handiwork. The tiny face of Mandy’s new sissy toy was quite red and wet with tears. Its little chest huffed and puffed and wheezed. The poor thing’s tiny hands, bound at the wrists to the back of the chair, groped the air but found nothing to grasp. Its childish feet in their white patent leather shoes could not touch the floor and twisted purposelessly. Truly the sissy suffered. Yet despite all, its disobedient pen-is had not completely shrunk. More punishment was in order.
“Oh, little Muffinnnnn?” Mrs. Daniels sang sweetly. “What did I ask youuuuu? Why do little fairieeeees have to keep their little wee-weeeees nice and teensy-weeeeensy?”
The frightened thing choked back a sob and lisped in desperation, “B-becausth thissthies can’t have a nasthty bulge in their pantiesth.”
Its sexy tormentor clapped her gloved hands in delight. Perhaps this silly creature was not completely brainless after all. “Very good, baby! We can’t have you ruining those adorable little prissy pants by stretching them with that ugly wee-wee -- or worse, leaving a horrid sissy stain on them! I spent over $400 on your fancy panties alone. I promise, sweetie, for every pair you spoil, your fanny and wee-wee will pay dearly.”
Mandy was both startled and ecstatic to hear her mother’s threat. If the nasty p*nis of Mandy’s effeminate plaything was constantly rearing out of control, she could look forward to frequent punishment sessions like this one.
“Oh, Mommy, can I have a turn brushing Muffin’s naughty thingie with the hairbrush?”
Mrs. Daniels smiled and tilted her beautiful head to one side. “Someday soon, darling. Today I want you to watch closely so that you’ll know just how to deal with this kind of disobedience. Pay attention and you will see how we turn sissy brats into little angels. First of all, we must be careful not to stroke our fairy in such a way to provoke ej*culation.”
“Gross!” sneered the fastidious pigtailed girl.
“Secondly, one has to avoid going too far in administering pain. We want to correct our little pansy, not break it.”
But to the spoiled blond teen, the idea of breaking this absurd creature was an absolutely thrilling prospect. She wanted her own hands to control the punishment brush. Her own hands to force the stiffness out of the insubordinate p*nis. It was to her alone that Mandy wanted the tearful fairy to plead for mercy. Oh, to be able to prolong or suspend pain at her own playful whim. To make poor Muffin a terrified dependent of Mandy’s fickleness. What power! And what if she did “break” it, whatever that meant? Couldn’t her mother always buy her another?
Mrs. Daniels turned back to the sissy and continued in her singing, teasing voice: “Baby’s little wee-weeeee is still not behavinnnnng!”
“No, pwease!” squeaked the sissy, “Pwease don’t wub my wee-wee no more. I’ll be a good widdle thissthy!”
“Of course you will, precious,” said Mrs. Daniels, once more taking hold of the rebellious organ. “After our little hairbrush party today, little lambie-pie won’t dare let that bad old wee-wee disrespect me or Miss Mandy or any of the outrageous little girlie panties we put over it.”
The brushing resumed, and the fairy squirmed and wept and wailed like a baby in need of a diaper change. This time, Mrs. Daniels accompanied the brushing of her miserable captive with a lecture.
“You see, sweetheart,” said the sexy professional model in her softest, most tantalizing voice, “not only must we protect your adorable sissy panties from harm, but you have to get it into your pathetic little brain that erections are reserved for boys and men only. A normal male is allowed to make love and get stiff and have wonderful, powerful orgasms because he has earned that right. Normal men are handsome and strong and brave and make good providers and lovers. Their reward for that is to be able to shoot their spunk while in the embrace of a lovely woman. But, you, princess, could never give a woman any of the things she gets from a real man. Your only talent is to lisp and mince and curtsy and be a little dolly for the amusement of young ladies. You’re a toy, a decoration, a pretty bracelet for a high-spirited teen girl to wear around her ankle. That’s all you are and all you’ll ever be.”
By now the punished pansy had abandoned its futile squirming and sat quite still with mouth agape and eyes glazed over. Whether from the cruel brush strokes or the cruel words, Muffin’s shameless little pen-is had at last retreated to its original flaccid and harmless state. Mrs. Daniels allowed herself a smile of delicious triumph as she studied the chastened phallus. She had defeated her opponent with a quick, ruthlessly efficient attack. And now her foe lay where she had dropped it: small, shriveled and a threat to no one. The victorious woman put down her tiny pink weapon and removed the latex gloves, which she then contemptuously tossed into the punished pansy’s lap.
(To be continued)
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HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 6
“Just one more thing, missy,” said Mrs. Daniels, looking down her nose at her daughter’s pink plaything. Now the softness in her voice was gone, replaced by a tone of menace which sent shivers down the sissy’s petite spine. “Never forget that you are our little trinket. You are here because I bought you. A possession exists not for itself but for the amusement of the owner. We want a tame, submissive, excessively girlish thing -- and nothing less! You are therefore forbidden to touch your wee-wee for fun, forbidden to have erections, and of course forbidden to make nasty spermies. Once you understand that sex is off limits for our little pixie, you’ll be able to concentrate on making Miss Mandy the most satisfied of sissy owners. In time, you’ll learn to think nothing of yourself and everything of that beautiful, vigorous girl you belong to.”
Mrs. Daniels then turned to her daughter and asked, “Well, what do you think of your dolly now?”
“Mommy,” whispered the cheerleader with red cheeks and dilated pupils, “you won’t believe this! I just had the most fantastic orgasm and didn’t even touch myself!”
“But that’s wonderful, darling!” trilled Mrs. Daniels, as she fondled her daughter’s left pigtail. “I must admit I felt a tingle myself!”
Playfully wriggling her hips, Mandy purred, “Mmmmmm, I’m afraid I got a little damp down there.”
Her mother laughed. “Then perhaps a panty change is in order for both of us.”
The pretty cheerleader grinned and nodded. “And I better hurry. I told Karen I’d meet her at the gym as soon as it opened Saturday, and that was like five minutes ago. Love my present, Mommy!” With that Mandy kissed her mother’s cheek, hopped off the bench and danced towards the door.
“Oh, darling, please do me a favor once you’re out of those dewy panties.”
“What, Mommy?”
“Don’t leave them on the floor of your closet. Take them straight to the laundry room. You’ll see that I’ve installed a new hamper with a padlock on it. The combination is the same as the one on our boathouse.”
Mandy arched her beautiful tawny eyebrows. “A locking hamper? What’s the deal?”
Mrs. Daniels rose gracefully and began to play with the blond ringlets of tiny Muffin, still bound, helpless and exposed in its chair. “Mandy, I’m sure you must know that all sissies are incorrigible panty-sniffers. Day and night they think of nothing but getting their mousy little hands on the worn intimate apparel of pretty girls. And it’s plain as day that this little wisp in ruffles and lace has already worked up a serious crush on you. Turn your back and it will be licking your soiled briefs in no time. However, I do not intend for us to encourage such misbehavior or to spend time in search of the used undies that a lovesick sissy manages to squirrel away when we’re not looking.”
Mrs. Daniel began removing Muffin’s velcro straps and continued, “So from now on, any garment that might absorb that alluring scent between your legs must be kept out of your weak-minded plaything’s reach. That includes panties, swimsuits, leotards, pantyhose, tights, pajama bottoms, bicycle shorts and anything else that might hold a sensory reminder of the lovely girl who just wore them. Because, make no mistake, if we ever do catch silly Muffin with undies other than its own, I shall punish the poor creature as ruthlessly as I did this morning.”
She then picked up the little pink hairbrush that had been the instrument of so many sissy tears. “You wouldn’t want to put temptation in its way, would you?”
“Of course not,” said Mandy with a shake of her thick blond braids. The cheerleader walked back to Muffin’s chair and held up the sissy’s tear-streaked face. “I totally agree. It would be just awful if my brand new baby doll had to be made to cry and scream due to my carelessness.”
The sexy teen was smiling as she held the gaze of her frightened, frilly toy, but Mandy’s obliging words were implicitly contradicted by her wild, gleaming green eyes.
(To be continued)
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HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT 7
While Mandy was away at cheerleader practice, her mother introduced little Muffin to its domestic responsibilities. First, Mrs. Daniels led the sissy into the master bathroom where she had it wash its red and puffy face with cold water.
As the lovely woman toweled the fairy’s face dry, she said, “Sweetie, your number-one sissy duty is to make sure that each of the five bathrooms in this house is always sparkling clean. That means the floors, baseboards, sinks, tubs and toilets must be scrubbed with ammonia and detergent at least once a week. In the case of my own bathroom and Mandy’s bathroom, this service must be performed daily. On top of that, whenever Mandy or I or one of our guests uses a toilet, it must immediately be cleaned and wiped, inside and out. Any surface that I put my bare bottom on, or that Mandy puts her bare bottom on, must be absolutely pristine. Do you understand me, princess?”
“Yessth, ma’am.”
“You are to address me as ‘mistress.’ And Mandy as ‘Miss Mandy.’”
“Yessth, Misthtwess.”
Mrs. Daniels chuckled at the little thing’s pathetic voice and continued, “Cleaning toilets is perhaps the lowliest task of any servant, but I expect you to undertake it with energy and devotion. A sissy is a naturally meek and bashful creature, but if you do your job well, little Muffin, there will be one thing in your life that you can take pride in: giving Miss Mandy and me shiny and spotless toilets to place our naked rear ends on. Won’t that be something to feel good about, precious?”
Muffin managed a tiny smile and answered, “Yessth, Misthtwess.”
“Of course, there will be penalties for any failure of duty, my sweet. Shush, musn’t interrupt me. This is all for your own improvement. If a sissy isn’t punished for doing wrong, how can the stupid thing ever learn to do right?” she said lightly touching Muffin’s pretty lips with her forefinger. “So let’s get you ready, dear.”
And with that Mrs. Daniels turned the dainty creature around, unzipped it in back, and removed the short pink dress and the stiff white petticoats underneath. She left to hang these in her bedroom closet. When she returned, she had a half dozen new objects with her.
The first was a lovely little white apron edged with ruffles. She put it over the sissy’s head and tied the straps in back. The stiff garment covered Muffin in front, from its neck to halfway down its thighs. Of course, in back the sissy’s tiny pink panties with lace trim were on display for all to see.
Then the beautiful mistress pinned a lacy maid’s cap in Muffin’s blond hair. “Voila! Here is princess’s little maid’s uniform. When you’re cleaning house, you’ll wear girly shoes, pink stockings, sissy panties, your darling apron, maid’s cap -- and nothing else! Look in the mirror, sissy! Aren’t you just thrilled with how cute our little Maid Muffin looks?” said Mrs. Daniels archly.
“Um, yessth, Misthtwess.”
“Now these are the clothes I expect you to be in while you’re scrubbing our floors, cleaning our bathtubs and polishing our toilets. However, at five-thirty in the afternoon when I come to inspect your work, there’ll be one minor change . . . Muffin, step out of your sissy panties!” she commanded.
The poor thing nervously removed its dainty pink underwear and gave its attention back to Mrs. Daniels.
“Do you know why I want your little bottom bare when I conduct my inspection?”
“No, Misthtwess.”
“Because we teach little sissies by way of their fannies. You see, Muffin, at the end of the afternoon, you and I will be in this bathroom together to examine the results of your labors. And if I find any mistakes, I’ll just have to make little sissy’s bottom very sore.”
With that Mrs. Daniels picked up a yard-long rattan switch. She gave Muffin a wink and then raised the switch above her mane of light brown curls.
“Listen to it, sissy,” she said and then brought the cane down with a quick jerk of her lovely arm. The pencil-thin instrument whistled sharply as it cut through the air.
“Schweeeeeeet!” it seemed to say. The sissy’s big blue eyes grew larger and its tiny lower lip trembled.
“Such a pretty sound it makes!” raved Mrs. Daniels. “It loves to fly through the air, baby. But I must warn you: it acts very mean if anything gets in its way . . . such as a naughty sissy’s little bare fanny.”
Muffin bit its trembling lip and began to whimper.
(To be continued)
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HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 8
“One more thing, and then we can begin the demonstration. Do you know what a nose-pointer is, precious?”
“N-n-no, Misthtwess.”
The beautiful woman laughed. “Come here, sweetie, and I’ll show you.”
Muffin minced two steps forward as Mrs. Daniels picked up a broom handle with a small metal clip attached to one end.
“Baby, I’m going to screw this little C-clamp onto the cartilage between your nostrils. Hold still! . . . Hush! . . . Don’t be silly! I didn’t hurt you . . . There! See? Sissy’s face is attached to my pointer. Now darling Muffin must put its face right next to whatever Mistress wants it to see or smell or taste. Just a moment, princess. I’m going to use a velcro strap to tie sissy’s hands behind its back so they’re safely out of the way. Now my precious is all set!”
Mrs. Daniels then led the pathetic creature -- by the nose -- around her bathroom and, with the most casual movement of her wrist, was able to direct Muffin’s attention to any particular detail of the fixtures.
“Look at the hair in the drain of the tub, sissy! Look at that lint on the bathmat! Look at the toilet paper roll -- it’s almost empty!”
As the beautiful woman spied each flaw, the poor pixie’s tender nose was tugged in a new direction and made to touch every irregularity that could be found.
“Oh!” said the sissy’s owner in a sudden inspiration. “I almost forgot! We didn’t look under the toilet seat, did we, little Muffin?”
“N-n-no, Misthtwess.”
“Down on your pretty knees, sweetie,” said Mrs. Daniels with a descending flick of her lovely wrist.
Poor Muffin dropped in front of the woman’s toilet, bowed its little head and hung its adorable blond curls over the bowl.
“Baby, lift up the toilet seat.”
“I-I-I can’t, Misthtwess.”
“Use your mouth, you stupid pansy!” The pointer tap-tapped the plastic seat.
Muffin parted its squeamish pink lips, placed them on the forward edge of the seat, and then, stretching its puny neck and moving toward the hinge in back, managed to raise the white oval to the upright position.
“Congratulations, sissy! You’re making your mistress proud of you!”
Mrs. Daniels then pulled the sissy’s face back in her direction. The creature’s whimpering mouth was now mere inches from the zipper of the woman’s tight white shorts. Muffin blushed as it breathed in the erotic perfume that Mrs. Daniels had earlier dabbed on her luscious thighs. The mistress smiled down on her aproned slave with unconcealed self-satisfaction.
“You know, princess, I’m being very good to you. I am dressing you in the most outrageously femmy clothes that money can buy. Soon I’ll be sending you out for expensive ballet and etiquette lessons. And I’m giving you the privilege of serving my daughter, who is without question the most beautiful teen girl in this city. You do think she’s pretty, don’t you, sissy?”
The effeminate thing blushed hotly and fluttered its long eyelashes. “Y-y-yesth, Misthtwess.”
“Why, Muffin! I believe you’re in love with Mandy. Aren’t you, sissy? Hmmm? Answer me!” The pointer jerked upward.
“Owwww! . . . yesth!” Sob, sob. “S-s-she’s sthoooo pwetty!”
“Good, baby.” Mrs. Daniels used her voice to caress the effeminate slave. “Then I know our darling won’t mind doing such a little thing as cleaning our toilets to earn the right to be around such a magnificent girl. It’s really nothing, considering how much you get in return. I don’t really expect you to enjoy making our toilets nice for us to sit on. But if you just think about the reward of being around Mandy a lot, the chore will go very quickly for you. You do understand me, don’t you, sweet sissy?”
“Yesth, Misthtwess,” said the half-terrified, half-mesmerized thing.
Mrs. Daniels smiled. “Now let me explain something. Last night my boyfriend spent some time with me and afterwards went tinkle-tinkle in this very toilet. He’s a good boy and remembered to lift the seat before he piddled, Muffin. But I’m sorry to say that some of his tinkle splashed on the rim, and he didn’t bother to wipe it off. Hmmph, men! Well, now it’s Muffin’s job to make sure Mistress’s toilet is nice and clean again.”
“Yesth, Misthtwess. Untie me, pwease, and I’ll wipe it weally, weally cwean!”
“Mmmmm, not today, Muffin,” purred Mrs. Daniels as she lightly stroked the fairy’s burning cheek. “Today, we need a demonstration of what happens to a sissy when it neglects a toilet and leaves something nasty behind. Today, you’re going to clean Mistress’s toilet . . . with your little tongue only!”
“Huh? Oh, noooo! Pweeease! Don’t make me do dat, Misthtwess! I can’t!”
“Of course you can, precious. Just close your little eyes, stick out your little tongue, and think of that beautiful girl you’ll be seeing this afternoon! . . . Do as I say, sissy, or I’ll apply Miss Switch to your bare fanny.”
“Ugh! Pwease don’t make meeeeee.”
We will now take our leave of Mrs. Daniels’s bath chamber. But if we stand just outside the door, we can hear the sharp whistle of the flailing rattan, the heart-rending cries of the reluctant sissy, and, finally, the soft slurping sounds of a finicky little tongue as it goes about its humiliating task.
(To be continued)
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HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 9
Just a few days after Mandy’s birthday, her mother received a phone call from Sissyland Day School announcing that Muffin had been accepted as a new student and would be welcomed to start class the following morning.
Only three years old, the school was already winning praise from sissy enthusiasts as one of the best in the country. It had been founded by two mini-skirted co-eds who dropped out of the teaching program at the local college, borrowed $100,000 from wealthy relatives, fixed up an old house, and began advertising in the local papers. “Get the best out of your little-girl sissy,” the ad had promised. “Full day instruction in poise, maid duties, sewing, singing, tap dance and ballet. Staffed by two eager and experienced sissy owners. Call 2**-***-****.”
The “eager and experienced sissy owners” were Amy Banner and Rachel Weems. Amy was a peppy former soccer player with very short light brown hair and a dazzling smile. Rachel was a willowy, long-haired brunette, sloe-eyed, sultry and temperamental. Each had acquired her own sissy in junior high and had come to realize that there was no activity more rewarding than feminizing and disciplining creatures that were smaller and weaker than themselves. They were determined to make a career of training fairies -- or go broke trying. Fortunately, sales of new sissies was skyrocketing and the young women ended up with more candidates than they could possibly handle.
They had the luxury of accepting only the most maidenly applicants: delicate things with cute faces, soft skin, trim waists, slender limbs and submissive demeanors. With that as a starting point, they molded their darlings into creatures that were even more girlish than real girls. Indeed, the graduates of the Sissyland were comical exaggerations of what a little girl should be. When Amy and Rachel were done with them, the sissies swished and simpered, pranced and pouted, giggled and gushed as no self-respecting young girl ever would. When they were done with them, the sissies would never again be seen as real girls but only as absurd caricatures of the feminine.
To eliminate all but the best, Amy and Rachel required the sissy’s owner to remit a $100 non-refundable application fee, complete a 10-page application form, and provide a DVD or videotape of the applicant, shown head-to-toe, reciting a nursery rhyme in sissy clothes, and then reciting it again with no clothes at all.
“Oh, Mrs. Daniels,” gushed the perpetually perky Amy when Mandy’s mother answered the phone. “I’m so excited for you and Muffin! Your sissy has been accepted! I can’t wait to see the little thing in person! You must know that Rachel and I gave Muffin our highest rating ever! We can’t wait to get our hands on it!”
Mandy, of course, was thrilled when Mrs. Daniels told her that her frilly toy had been accepted at the best sissy school in the state. The self-indulgent teen girl announced she would celebrate by borrowing her mother’s credit card and taking Muffin shopping for sissy clothes that afternoon. When the greedy cheerleader was finished, her little black sports car could not hold all the packages of frilly fairy costumes. She had to order the bulk of them to be delivered to her home by truck.
The following day, while Mandy was in class at Winship Academy, Mrs. Daniels dressed Muffin in one of the ridiculously girlish outfits that her daughter had bought. It was an outlandishly short yellow dress embroidered with little white ducks. A stiff tutu petticoat ensured that the skirt would always be parallel to the horizon. Just below the petticoat was, for all the world to see, a pair of white high-cut briefs -- with a little yellow duck sewn onto the front of the crotch. A huge yellow hair ribbon, self-supporting yellow stockings and the mandatory white Mary Janes completed the bizarre picture.
“But, Misthtwess, my dwess isth too thort!” whined the little fairy.
“Nonsense, Muffin. The whole point is to show off those adorable panties with the little ducky. Now Mandy said this was her very favorite. And didn’t you say you were in love with Miss Mandy? Hmmm? How can you then not want to wear the outfit the girl you love picked out for you?’
Poor Muffin was far too simple-minded to see its way out of this logic.
Mrs. Daniels herself dressed in a dark pinstripe suit, white silk blouse, and gentleman’s necktie. All very no-nonsense -- except for the fact that the suit’s skirt was ultra-short and tight, and the heels on her shiny black pumps were five inches high.
Minutes later, Mrs. Daniels parked her luxurious red sedan in front of Sissyland Day School, took Muffin by the hand and marched it up the brick walk to the front door. “Click-click-click” went the sexy woman’s heels on the pavement. She held the frilly sissy’s hand tightly but the poor creature could barely keep up with her brisk pace.
The bell was answered by a slender woman with long dark hair. Muffin was thunderstruck. He was in the presence of a proud, intimidating beauty with mysterious eyes, high cheekbones and sensuously cruel red mouth. And he was overwhelmed by her attire: a pale blue stretch mini-dress with a halter neck that flaunted an ample view of her audacious breasts.
“You must be Mrs. Daniels,” said the young woman widening both her smile and the opening in the doorway. “Welcome to sissy school! I’m Rachel.”
With one raised eyebrow, the young brunette then turned to Muffin, bent forward and placed her hands on her knees. Her cleavage deepened and came within inches of the sissy’s button nose.
“And this adorable child must be Muffin. We’ve heard soooo much about you, baby girl!”
“P-p-pweased to meet you, Missth Wachel,” said the little fairy in yellow, curtseying.
“Well aren’t you just pwecious with your widdle ducky dwessth on. Quack, quack, widdle thissthy! Quack, quack, thissthy-wissthy!” she said in jeering baby-talk that sent waves of degradation over the painfully shy Muffin. “Boy, are we going to have fun with you!”
Muffin turned beet red, and the two women laughed without mercy.
(To be continued)
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HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 10
Rachel took hold of the sissy’s clammy little hand and led it and Mrs. Daniels across a spacious foyer to the school’s main classroom, where her colleague Amy was supervising the other sissy-students. The girlish things were sitting by twos in little wooden stools behind small round tables with laminated resin tops. Childish hands were folded in lacy laps and every eye was fixed on the school’s co-founder, who was explaining how panties should be folded before being placed in a dresser drawer.
Miss Amy was attired in the same clinging blue mini-dress as Miss Rachel. The stretch fabric caressed her eager bre*sts, flawless round buttocks, and powerful thighs. As little Muffin gazed at her, it fell hopelessly in love with Amy’s jaunty young body, which was accentuated by the very short cut of her light brown hair
Suddenly Amy noticed the newcomer’s presence, turned in its direction and gave Muffin a full view of her lively eyes, dimpled cheeks and disarming smile.
“Oh, look who’s here!” she exclaimed. “Good morning, Mrs. Daniels. We are so happy that Muffin is going to be one of our darlings. And just look at it. Rachel, have you ever seen anything so cute?” she asked her colleague as she knelt in front of the bashful thing in yellow.
“No, the videotape just didn’t do the sissy justice. Such great big blue eyes for such a dainty head.”
“And just feel at these soft baby cheeks,” said Amy pinching one.
“And this itsy-bitsy chin. It’s hardly there at all.”
“Mmmmm,” said Amy as she hugged the frilly creature. “I want to take it home with me!” Muffin held its breath as its own scrawny chest was cushioned by Amy’s magnificent young bre*sts.
Amy looked up to Mrs. Daniels and asked with a wink, “You will let me take your adorable home with me?”
Mrs. Daniels smiled and shook her beautiful light brown curls. “I’m afraid Sissy Muffin is the property of my daughter, a very headstrong teenage girl. At this time she’s not ready to share her precious toy with anyone.”
Rachel laughed. “It’s just as well. Amy already owns three sissies, and they’re all insanely jealous of one another.”
Reluctantly, Amy stood up and directed her attention back to her class. “Attention, girlies! Look what we have! This is our newest little sissy! Won’t you please give a great big Sissyland welcome to little Muffin!”
At this command Amy’s tamed, effeminate pupils rose from their stools to clap primly and cheer in tiny voices. Every one of the sissies was deliciously feminine, slim, soft and modest. Every one could easily pass as a petite junior-high girl. But Mrs. Daniels inwardly gloated as she surveyed the eight other pansies. Pretty as the Sissyland students were -- and as adorably dressed as they were -- none compared with her own Muffin, with its flawless six year-old’s face, childish frame, and comical squeaky lisp.
“Now, girlies,” said Rachel as she joined Amy at the center of the room. “Let’s get into our kissy line to meet and greet little Muffin.”
The sissies obediently formed a semi-circle and stood at attention with their girlish feet together and their lovely hands clasped behind their backs. Amy took Muffin by the shoulders and brought it to the center of the group.
“This is how you’re going to get to know your classmates, honey. I want you to hold your pretty hands behind your back, walk up to each little sissy in the row, lean forward and then give it a nice sweet kiss on the lips. Can you do that for me, precious?” said Amy with a heartbreaking smile and a caress of the sissy’s chest.
“It’s just like this,” said Rachel as she approached the first sissy in the line. The sexy woman placed her hands behind her back and bent forward. The blue fabric of her mini-dress tightened over her magnificent buttocks. She tossed back her dark hair and placed her deep red lips on the mouth of the first sissy and lingered there for a few seconds before standing straight again. The student she demonstrated on blushed hotly and licked its pink lips.
The sultry woman then looked at Muffin over her bare shoulder and said, “Then you curtsey and tell the sissy your name.” The teacher turned back to the first student in line, curtseyed and said in a faux-sissy voice, “Helwo, my name isth Muffin. I’m pweased to meet you.”
At this cruel parody, all the sissies in the room -- with the notable exception of the newest member -- burst into giggles. Muffin bit its lip and fought back tears.
Amy clapped her hands to restore order. “Behave yourselves, girlies. Now it’s your turn, Muffin.”
“B-b-but I can’t,” squeaked the little fairy in its ridiculous ducky dress. “I-I-I never ever kissthed a boy.”
Rachel approached the reluctant sissy with one raised eyebrow. “Don’t be a silly baby. Look at those creatures in their sweet dresses and stockings. They’re not boys. They’re sissies -- just like you! In any case, you’ll soon learn that sissies kiss boys all the time. And do other things to please them too. It seems you have a lot to learn.”
Finally, Mrs. Daniels walked up to Muffin, grabbed it by the chin and put her beautiful face very close to it.
“You’re embarrassing yourself, sweetie. Do you want me to show the class how naughty sissies are punished in our house?”
Muffin took a deep breath, straightened its shoulders and began mincing toward the pupil at the top of the line. Sissyland’s newest student then placed its hands behind its back, swallowed hard and closed its eyes. Slowly it began to lean forward . . . but in the crunch all its courage evaporated. Little Muffin burst into tears and ran toward the door.
But Amy was too quick. In an instant the powerful young woman had the blubbering fairy back at center stage and facing the class again.
“May I trouble you for a switch, Rachel?” asked Mrs. Daniels, her fists resting on the hips of her very short pin-stripe skirt. “And, Amy, will you be so kind as to lower Muffin’s little ducky panties for me?”
“With pleasure!” said the beautiful woman with the light brown pixie cut. Her strong young hands reached inside the lacy waistband of the fairy’s underpants and yanked downwards.
“Oh, Rachel, come here! I want to show you something hilarious!”
(To be continued)
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HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 11
After Muffin was thoroughly switched, the poor thing still had to go down the line of adorable sissies and kiss each one’s pretty lips. Of course, naughty Muffin was not allowed to raise its little ducky panties from ankle level, so the brat made a very amusing sight as it shuffled from one fairy to another, bending forward for a kiss and pushing out its little red-striped bottom for all to see. The tearful creature went the rounds, kissing Sissy Kitty, Sissy Bitsy, Sissy Fancy, Sissy Bunny, Sissy Patsy, Sissy Mincy, Sissy Sassy and Sissy Shortcake. Afterwards, the pathetic thing had to put its little nose in a corner and remain there with panties down until lunch hour. As its time in isolation passed, the miserable bare-bottomed pansy could hear it being whispered and snickered about among the other Sissyland pupils. And occasionally a teacher would make a caustic reference to the wayward thing.
Miss Rachel would say, “Pay attention, girlies. You don’t want to end up with a your little fanny switched and shown off to everyone, do you?”
Or Miss Amy would say, “Keep your darling panties clean, sissies. You never know when your mistress might make you take them down in front of a crowd.”
Of course, such comments provoked a riot of giggles from the effeminate students.
At lunch-time, Muffin was restored to good graces and its panties raised to full mast again. The new pupil and its classmates were given a meal of tea and sandwiches, along with a lecture about how to serve and how to eat like proper young ladies. Much was made of taking tiny bites, dabbing one’s pouty mouth with just a corner of the napkin, using only the tips of fingers to handle food, cups and utensils, using as few fingers as possible, and extending into the air any fingers that were not being used.
Later in the afternoon a beautiful but solemn blond woman named Miss Cristina arrived to conduct the school’s ballet lessons. She removed her raincoat to show breathtakingly muscular legs in white tights and a magnificently sculpted torso packed into a snug black thong leotard.
“Hurry, little sissies!” she said in a voice faintly accented. “Get into those pretty ballet clothes. And it’s spankies for any girlie who’s late!”
With a rush of little shoes tapping across the floor, the fairies made a beeline for the cloakroom. But poor Muffin could only stare at the stranger in her breathtaking outfit. The frail thing was especially bewitched by the way Miss Cristina’s white tights hugged the contours of her strong buttocks on either side of the leotard’s slender thong. He desperately wanted the vigorous woman to hold him against her perfect body.
Suddenly the goddess took notice of him and laughed. “Well, what are you waiting for, Ducky Pants? Do you want me to change you myself? If I have to do it, you’ll wish you never met me!”
“Hurry, Muffin,” said Miss Amy, anxiously intervening. “Miss Cristinia means business!”
And regaining its senses Muffin trotted down to the cloakroom. There the sissies were excitedly changing into their little pink leotards, white tights and pink slippers. What a precious covey of fairies they made! Whispering and giggling, they minced on little tippy-toes down the hall to the gymnasium.
Sissy Bunny whose long blond hair nearly touched its buttocks was the school’s most accomplished dancer. It generously offered to show Muffin the basics.
Poor Muffin strained to twist its teeny body into each of the positions that the lithe and limber Bunny demonstrated. But the new sissy’s awkward little limbs refused to be commanded into the proper shape.
Later when the beautiful, imperious Miss Cristina came to see Muffin’s progress, she found fault with everything about the beginner’s Plié, and corrected Muffin with a quick slap on the back of its thigh. Of course, this is precisely where the naughty fairy’s mistress had earlier applied the stinging switch -- and Muffin howled in agony.
“Oh what a baby you are!” Miss Cristina frowned in her sexy black leotard, not knowing that the ringleted pansy’s bottom had already been rigorously chastised that morning. “Get those heels together and knees apart!” Slap!
“Owwwww!”
“That was only the mildest of taps, my dear. If you don’t get into the correct position instantly, you’ll get much worse from my hand.” Slap!!
“Pwease, I-I-I’m twying stho hard.”
“Not enough for me, my dear. Keep your toes out!” Slap!!!
Of course, none of the other sissies bothered to tell the beautiful, bitchy Miss Cristina about naughty Muffin’s sore bottom -- not even the ostensibly kind Sissy Bunny. And each time the stern ballet mistress struck the dainty seat of Muffin’s pink leotard, its classmates tittered with glee.
What Miss Cristina did perceive was how fragile a creature Muffin was, how it quaked in her presence, how adorably it boo-hooed when she swatted its puny derrière. And how its tearful blue eyes nonetheless worshipped her form. Afterwards, she admitted to herself that she probably spent more time perfecting the new sissy’s Plié than was merited, but she realized that being able to induce a freshet of hot tears from the pretty fairy with the merest stroke of her hand stirred her blood somehow. She could only imagine how the ridiculous creature would respond to the crack of her snakewhip. Surely a new student would benefit from private lessons in her home. Perhaps a one-on-one weekend workshop when Cristina’s live-in boyfriend was out of town. She would make the prissy thing shriek in agony and then muffle its cries between her legs. She made a mental note to ask Rachel for the name and phone number of the brat’s owner.
(To be continued)
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HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 12
Later that afternoon, the sissies were back in their frilly dresses for music lesson. To Miss Amy’s piano accompaniment, they sang “Do Re Me,” “Hush Little Baby,” and “Let’s All Sing Like the Birdies Sing.” Amy complimented Sissy Muffin’s pure, sweet voice and asked if it had a favorite song. Muffin curtsied and sang “Rock-A-Bye-Baby” solo. The class applauded with genuine respect, for no other sissy could hit such high notes.
After music lesson, Amy and Rachel had a brief, whispered conversation and Rachel announced, “Sissies, it’s time to announce the Girlie of the Day.”
An excited hush fell over the room. Miss Rachel explained that today’s most attentive and best-behaved child would be taken to the teachers’ private office and given a special “sissy treat.”
All eyes fell on Rachel as she revealed the winner. “For outstanding performance in housekeeping, serving and ballet, today’s special girlie is . . . Sissy Shortcake!”
The cute redhead put its little hands to its face and jumped up and down screaming. Of course, the other sissies were deeply disappointed, but applauded politely.
Rachel turned to her colleague. “I gave the treat yesterday. Would you like to do the today’s honors, Amy?”
“Mmmmm, you know I’d loooove to, especially with a darling like Sissy Shortcake.” The lively young woman in the stretch mini-dress got up from the piano bench and took the Girlie of the Day by the hand.
As the honored child was led to its reward, Rachel announced the last lesson was to be on manicures and passed out emery boards to her frilly pupils. Under her strict supervision, the sissies bent to their task of shaping and smoothing their dear little fingernails.
Only a moment had gone by when Muffin put down the file and raised its tiny hand.
“What is it, Sissy Muffin?” asked Rachel with a trace of irritation.
“Pwease, I have to go tinkle.”
“Little ninny!” taunted the beautiful brunette in the tight blue dress. “Why didn’t you go when the girlies were changing out of their ballet outfits?”
“I’m stho sthowwy. I didn’t have to tinkle den.”
Rachel sighed with exasperation, making her magnificent breasts exert themselves against the hugging fabric of the halter-top. “Oh well . . . let’s see. Sissy Sassy, will you be Muffin’s tinkle partner?”
At Sissyland, no pupil was permitted to go to the washroom alone. It had to walk there holding hands with another sissy. This buddy system, combined with big rewards for reporting misdeeds, ensured that no pansy out of teacher’s sight could play with itself.
“Yes, Miss Rachel,” said the obedient sissy with long auburn bangs and pigtails. It took Muffin’s hand and led it to the restroom.
Along the way, the two sissies passed the closed door of the teachers’ office. From behind the door came the sound of a grunting animal. “Unnnnhhhh! Unnnnhhhh! Unnnnhhhh!”
“What’sth that noisthe?” asked Muffin stopping and holding Sassy’s hand tighter.
“Don’t worry, Sissy Muffin, that’s just Sissy Shortcake having its sissy treat,” said darling Sassy, who was dressed in a cute pink and white striped dress.
“Unnnnhhhh! Unnnnhhhh! Unnnnhhhh!” came the bestial utterances from the room.
“B-b-but it can’t be Sthortcake making that sthound!”
“No, silly,” said the patient pansy shaking its pretty auburn braids. “That’s Miss Amy. You see, a sissy treat is when you get to go down on your knees and put your face under a teacher’s skirt. It’s like a kiss. Only lower down.”
Muffin’s face burned at the thought of such intimate contact with one of Sissyland’s beautiful women. “But why doesth Missth Amy make sthuch a sthound? It musth hurt her.”
“Oh no, Miss Amy loves to give sissy treats! Sometimes she gets excited and clenches her legs so tight, I think my head’ll crack!”
“That’sth sthcary.”
“Mmmm, it’s nice, really. She always strokes my hair and tells me what a good sissy I am. I guess I’d rather get my treat from her than Miss Rachel.”
“Why?”
“I dunno. Ms. Rachel is shaved down there and easy to lick, but she is soooo picky. And if my tongue doesn’t do it just right, she digs her high heels into my butt and pinches my ears.”
Muffin, its tiny mind whirling, was about to ask another question when the two sissies were interrupted by a woman’s shrill voice.
“What are you two stupid fairies doing there? Weren’t you supposed to go tinkle five minutes ago?” Miss Rachel was standing at the end of the hall, hands on her tightly clad hips and a furious look darkening her beautiful face. “You’ve both just earned yourselves demerits on your daily report!”
The two scolded sissies hurried off towards the restroom. However, Muffin could not help but steal a glance back at Miss Rachel and her shiny black heels. The poor thing wondered with terror and fascination what devastating effect those sharp heels could have on his dainty rear end.
(To be continued)
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HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 13
An hour later Mandy arrived at Sissyland Day School to pick up her petticoated toy. Having just left cheerleading practice, Mandy was still breathy from exercise, her face rosy and glistening. A strand of blond hair had come loose from her braids and was hanging over one tawny eyebrow. Sissy Muffin had never seen anyone so beautiful.
Mandy laughed to find her plaything in its ridiculously short yellow dress and bared white panties with a little yellow duck sewn just above the crotch.
“Let’s go, Ducky Pants!” she said in a voice loud enough for all the students and teachers to hear.
Muffin forgot everything it had learned about girlish mincing and ran to take Mandy’s hand. Today the pathetic sissy had suffered an overdose of pain and humiliation. It wanted only to be carried away -- and as quickly as possible. However, the beautiful teen girl reminded Muffin of its manners and made it wave “bye-bye” to everyone before leading it outside. Then she sat her frilly pet in her shiny black sports car, buckled it in, and roared off down the street.
“Did you miss me, little fairy?” she asked with a smug sideways glance.
“Oh, yessth, Mith Mandy, I’m soooo gwad to sthee you!”
“First day at sissy school! What a big event for my baby! Maybe we should celebrate with a little snack before going home. Would you like that, princess?”
The petticoated creature beamed. If only this golden girl could love her living doll half as much as it loved her! “Oh, yessth! Thank you, Missth Mandy!”
In a few minutes the haughty teen girl guided the coupe into the parking lot of Route 66, a popular, retro-style burger restaurant.
“Are we going insthide, Missth Mandy?” asked the sissy as its seatbelt was taken off.
“Of course, Ducky Pants! So you better be at your sissy best behavior. Make sure you take little-girlie, tippy-toe steps when you walk. Keep your hands above your waist with your wrists limp. Hold your nose up in the air like you’re proud of your sissy self. And don’t forget to wiggle your pretty little fanny so everyone can see what a saucy little pansy you are!”
Before Muffin could object, the assertive cheerleader had pulled it out of the car and was leading to the restaurant door.
“And if you’re very good,” she added with a tilt of her lovely head, “I might just forget to show your Sissyland daily report to Mommy. She won’t be at all pleased with your failing marks.”
As Muffin was taken inside, it wanted to hold down its petticoat-lifted yellow dress but the pathetic creature had already been admonished to keep its little hands above its waist. As a result, everyone in its path got a view of the fairy’s childish panties with the yellow ducky sewn to the bulge of its crotch. As the cheerleader and her sissy crossed the crowded room, Muffin’s face burned at the whistles and whispers of “Little Ho’ Peep,” “baby tart,” and “duck slut.” Mandy, however, was thrilled, dropping her mouth open in delight at the inventiveness of some of the insults.
Instead of taking one of the window booths near the door, the pigtailed teen dragged her frilly toy to an empty table in the center of the room. Having a sissy made her noticed. And Mandy loved being noticed. She reached under little Muffin’s arms and boosted it onto a chrome and red vinyl stool. Then the sexy girl in her short cheerleader’s skirt hopped onto the stool next to it.
“Isn’t this fun, sissy?” she said with a cute wiggle of her young body.
“Y-yesth, Misth Mandy.”
“You’d better like it because I plan to take you out a lot, Muffy. Like when I go shopping for myself, or play tennis at the country club, or go out with a bunch of friends to see a movie. Mommy said she’s even going to have a little cheerleader costume made for you. It will be just like mine, but have a very, very short skirt appropriate for a little fairy like you! She said she’ll dress you in it and take you to the football games so you can see what me and the other big cheerleaders do.”
A waitress came and took Mandy’s order for a large plate of fries, a diet cola and a kid-sized strawberry milk shake.
“You see, precious,” continued the sissy’s owner in a sugarcoated voice, “The more you go out, the more that cute guys get to see you, and the better your chances of getting asked out on a date!”
“But I don’t wanna do dat!” squeaked the little thing in petticoats.
“Why not, little f-ggot?” said Mandy with mock disappointment. “Don’t you like cute boys?”
“Noooo! And I’m not a f-f-f-ggot!” whined Muffin as it squirmed on the tall stool.
“Mmmm, I don’t know about that, Muffy.” The cheerleader sighed and rested her pretty chin on her hand. “Let’s see. You wear ribbons in your hair, pink polish on your nails, and lace on your little panties. And, according to what Mommy told me over the phone, this morning you kissed eight different boys! On the lips! Now really, prissy pants, if someone with a p-nis puts on little girls' clothes and goes around kissing lots of boys, what’s the word for it -- if not f-ggot?”
“I’m not a f-ggot!” screamed the frustrated sissy, kicking its little white Mary Janes against the legs of its stool. “I’m not a f-ggot!”
In response to this outcry, a group of junior high girls at a nearby table burst into laughter. Sissy Muffin, suddenly realizing how utterly absurd it looked, acted and sounded, surrendered to a flood of hot tears. It tried to cover its miserable face with its small hands, but it was clear from the way its pathetic shoulders shook that the feminized thing was bawling like a baby.
Mandy tingled all over. She had reduced her plaything to abject misery -- and with words alone! The excitement of having such power over a creature was almost more than she could stand. If she crossed her legs now she knew that she would bring herself to an immediate and spectacular climax. But she must wait. This was just the start of her lovely plan. The main event was about to begin.
(To be continued)
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HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 14
Soon the waitress returned with their order. Mandy insisted on tucking a napkin into her little sissy’s collar before it could eat. She also commanded the childish thing to hold its kiddie milkshake with both hands when it took a sip. Smiling to herself about how easily the fairy could be bossed around, Mandy then picked up a plastic bottle of ketchup with a nozzle top and proceeded to decorate the pile of hot French fries in front of her.
Poor, humiliated Muffin had lost all interest in food and drink. It felt every eye in the restaurant on its tearful face and scantily clad body. It knew its foolish outburst had only earned it more attention, more laughter, more contempt from the crowd of diners.
Mandy gloated as she put a strip of fried potato between her incomparable lips. She would push her pantied plaything to ever-lower levels of degradation. But at each stage she would pause to savor the moment. After each humiliating trap was sprung, she would sit back to watch the sissy squirm and blush and boo-hoo-hoo. Then she would patronizingly offer a kind word, dry its baby tears, allow it to recover -- only to devise another, more terrible humiliation for the next round.
“Oh, c’mon, Muffy, don’t sit there and sulk! You know I’ve been looking forward to seeing my adorable little fairy all day long! All I could think about was spending time with sissy Muffin. You know what? When we get home, you’ll do your sissy chores . . . and then we’ll put on our nighties . . . and then you can sit on my bed with me! And we’ll talk and . . . brush each other’s hair and . . . rub nice, pretty-smelling lotion on each other’s bodies! Won’t that be fun, baby-doll?”
At this invitation, the sulky sissy’s spirits soared. It could imagine no glory greater than sitting close to the magnificent teen girl, touching her, and having her soft hands caress its own vibrant little body. It wanted nothing more than to be her little bedtime toy.
“Oh yesth, Missth Mandy! Thank you, sthoooo much! I’m sthowwy I acted like a widdle baby!”
“Good. Now as soon as we finish these fries we can leave. Since you apologized, I’ll tell Mommy that you were a little angel on the way home. And I won’t mention anything about your bad daily report from Sissyland. I’ll even ask Mommy if you can skip some of your chores since it’s been such a hard day for you.”
Little Muffin squealed with delight and stuffed a French fry into its tiny mouth.
“Did you see the pretty ceiling, sweetie?” the girl asked casually, pointing to the restaurant’s blue dome with painted clouds. “Doesn’t it look just like the sky? You know, Muffy, if you lean back, you might just see a little airplane up there. Do you see it, baby? Up there. Lean further back.”
The poor, trusting sissy did as it was told, its big blue eyes searching the high dome for the little airplane. But try as it might, the effeminate thing saw nothing but painted clouds.
“Spppluuuurrrrrt!”
Suddenly Muffin felt something cold and wet on its little crotch. The pathetic thing looked down, peered over the hem of its short, short yellow dress and saw that the front of its white panties was covered in ketchup! There was so much of the thick red liquid that even the yellow ducky was no longer visible!
Muffin glanced up at Mandy. The teen girl’s perfect face was gazing back with the most innocent of expressions. But between her lovely knees she was holding the ketchup squirt bottle. The nasty red nozzle was pointed directly at Muffin’s girlish panties. A final glob of liquid dripped from the nozzle’s hard red tip.
“Well, for goodness sake, Muffy,” she said in a calm, detached voice, “look what happened. You’ve gotten ketchup all over your brand new sissy outfit. Dear me. Don’t you know, Mommy will be furious? Can you imagine what she’ll do to you if she finds out those brand new sissy panties are ruined?”
The heavens came crashing down on Muffin’s sunny mood. All of the sweet pleasures the girl had promised were now scattered by the impending storm. The pathetic sissy’s big blue eyes flooded with tears.
“But why, Missth Mandy?” sobbed the heartbroken fairy. “I didn’t do it. You sthquirted the ketthup at me!”
“Don’t be such a stupid little f-ggot,” snapped the snooty girl with a toss of her pigtails. “I was just trying to put ketchup on the fries. If you hadn’t been squirming and shaking the table, none of this would have happened. I’m sorry I even bothered to give you this special treat!”
Muffin could only bow its blond ringlets in shame.
“We’re outta here,” Mandy said, laying a ten spot on the table and snatching her disgraced plaything off the stool. “I’m marching you to the ladies’ room to see if the awful mess you caused can be repaired. If not, your little white f-ggot a-- is going to pay when we get home!”
To the accompaniment of snickers from the approving crowd, the soiled sissy was unceremoniously escorted to the women’s restroom. Mandy pushed her way through the big pink door, strode purposefully to the bank of wash basins and mirrors, and ordered Sissy Muffin to peel off its girlish panties. The abashed pansy very carefully pulled the still-dripping underpants down over its pretty stockings and shoes. Mandy turned on the cold water faucet.
“Now scrub your little girlie pants, f-ggot,” spat the malevolent girl. “Make sure you get all of that sissy mess out. This is what happens to flirty little queers who show themselves off in their little ‘f--k me’ outfits and then find out too late that they’ve got a big, nasty, sticky problem in their skimpy little panties.”
The haughty teen’s words lacerated the feminized creature. It sobbed and its childish tears flowed into the white basin along with the tap water.
(To be continued)
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HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 15
Fortunately for the disgraced creature, its darling ducky panties rinsed perfectly clean under the faucet, and the lovely white and yellow colors were restored. As the humiliated fairy recovered from its sniffling, its bossy teen owner ordered it to wring out the precious sissy undies and wrap them up in paper towels from the dispenser above the sink.
“B-b-but, Missth Mandy,” lisped the ridiculously effeminate thing. “If my pantiesth are wet, what I am going to w-w-wear home?”
“Why nothing, little fairy freak,” said the amused blond beauty. “Sissies who mess their panties have to go home bottomless! That’s your lesson of the day, Muffin.”
“B-b-but, Missth Mandy,” said the weakling in stiff petticoats. “Everybody will be able to sthee me!”
“Too bad,” shrugged the nonchalant cheerleader. “If you don’t want your sissy wee-wee in plain sight, just push down your little dress in front.”
The mortified Muffin began to weep anew. “Oh-oh-oh, Missth Mandy! I’m sthooo sthcared! If I pusth down my dressth in front, everyone can sthee m-m-my fanny!”
The cruel girl in pigtails giggled. “What? Is little sissy worried that some boy is going to get turned on by Muffin’s lily-white sissy butt? Oh dear, then Muffin just might end up sitting bare-bottomed in some cute guy’s lap. I bet a f-ggot like you would lo-o-o-ve that!”
The snooty teen laughed directly into her plaything’s face and then dragged it back into the restaurant’s dining room. Poor Muffin was left to fend for its compromised modesty with one hand only. Pressing its terribly brief dress and petticoats down over its crotch, the pathetic creature decided to sacrifice its rear for the protection of its front. The sniveling sissy could only hope the walk to Mandy’s car would be a quick one. That, however, was not to be the case.
Just as Mandy and Muffin were about to exit, three lovely teenagers walked into the eatery. They were dressed in sexy varsity cheerleading uniforms identical to Mandy’s.
“Hey, girls!” said Mandy as she jerked her exposed sissy to a halt. “I thought you’d be here an hour ago!”
“Sorry,” said one of the three. “We wanted to sign up for the softball team tryouts and it took like forever.”
“Look, girls,” said Mandy now directing a beatific gaze at her miserable, self-conscious toy. “This is my brand new sissy. Introduce yourself, Muffin.”
“Helwo, my name isth Muffin, and I’m pwoperty of Missth Mandy Danielsth.”
The cheerleaders roared with laughter, wowed by the creature’s ultra-femmy appearance and incredibly childish voice.
“Muffin, this is Lena, Samantha and Alexis.” The pantyless sissy was deeply relieved that its heartless owner had not forced it to curtsey.
Lena was a stunning Chinese girl with a face as delicate and flawless as a doll’s. Her long black hair covered her shoulders like a silky cape. She was a committed virgin -- and at the same time a shameless exhibitionist. She took delight in knowing that thousands of men in stadiums and gymnasiums got hard by staring at her trim body in its short, tight cheerleader uniform and matching red panties. She spent many hours perfecting her kicks, jumps and twirls to keep her skirt aloft as long as possible. She had even re-hemmed her cheerleading panties to expose an extra two inches of adorable butt cheek.
Samantha was a brown-haired dream girl, with long bangs, big round eyes and a perfect 36-24-34 figure. She had already used her good looks to remunerative advantage, snagging a geeky but very rich college boy, Myron, who showered her with front row concert tickets, four-star restaurant meals, diamond bracelets, and plane trips to the Rockies and the Caribbean. As a reward, every once in a while she’d allow him to lick between her legs -- but nothing more.
Alexis was a petite blond with a mass of curly-frizzy hair pulled back with a black ribbon. She had long, plucked-thin eyebrows, baby blue irises, and a little Cupid’s Bow mouth, to which she frequently applied fresh coats of bright red lipstick. Alexis was snobbish, self-centered, acquisitive, hypercritical and cruel to anyone less powerful than she. In other words, she was another, slightly less pretty version of Mandy. Naturally, the two girls were bitter enemies -- while treating each other with utmost politeness. It was so uncool to let it be known that anyone had gotten under your skin.
“Oh, it’s priceless!” said Lena bending to pinch Muffin’s cheek.
“And these curls!” said Samantha, taking one of the blond ringlets in her hand. “It must take forever to get it ready in the morning.”
“Not really,” said Mandy with a shake of her thick pigtails. “Muffin puts on its own curlers at night and takes them out in the morning. I’m now training it to do my hair for me.”
“You know,” said Alexis in her bored, piping voice, “my grandmother asked me if I wanted my own sissy and I turned her down. I said sissies are just too much trouble to keep after. The little brats are either whining or getting into mischief.”
“Not Sissy Muffin,” said Mandy with an upward tilt of her pretty chin. “The poor thing is hopelessly in love with me and will do whatever I tell it. Watch this. Muffin, get on your knees and lick my shoes.”
Released from Mandy’s grip, the sissy went to the floor and began swabbing the girl’s white oxfords with its dainty tongue.
“Awww, Mandy! It’s so sweet!” gushed the beautiful Asian girl. “Gosh, I wish I had my own sissy to dominate!”
“Me too,” mused Samantha with a sly grin. “Hmmm, maybe if I go down on Myron he’ll buy me one.”
The cheerleaders all shrieked with laughter at the thought.
(To be continued.)
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HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 16
Mandy clapped her hands. “Enough, sissy! Stand up straight!”
Muffin ceased its tongue-bath of the pretty teenager’s shoes and quickly stood with its little hands folded and pressing the skimpy yellow dress over its bare crotch.
Meanwhile, the resentful Alexis had walked behind Muffin and was casting a critical eye at the angry red stripes that decorated the fairy’s bare white buttocks. Ah, Mandy’s brand new toy, Alexis was thrilled to see, was not Miss Perfect Sissy after all. While Mandy, Lena and Samantha were occupied in discussing Muffin’s list of duties, Alexis cooked up some mischief. The petite cheerleader pretended to pay respectful attention to the others, but covertly moved her right hand closer to the pansy’s punished fanny. Spotting an angry red welt, she placed the salon-manicured nails of her thumb and forefinger on either side of it. The vindictive blond then took a deep breath and squeezed with all her bitchy might.
Poor Muffin screamed like an infant.
“What’s the matter with you, silly?” said the sissy’s frowning pigtailed owner. “Be still while I’m talking.”
Mandy resumed the her description of her mother’s training sessions with Muffin and how the little thing was taught to clean each toilet directly after it has been used. Alexis feigned interest but was inwardly exulting at being able to vandalize her enemy’s property. Her sharp fingernails found another inflamed stripe . . . and thrust home!
This time Muffin stifled its girlish scream, jammed its mouth shut, and expressed its pain only through the big tears that welled up in its eyes.
Mandy, of course, knew exactly what evil Alexis was up to. But Mandy would not let on. How uncool to have it out with Alexis in this popular restaurant with everyone watching! Besides, she was rather turned on by watching her little sissy’s face as it contorted in pain. More fuel for the big climax to come!
Finally, Alexis gave up her cruel game. “Well, if the little darling’s so well behaved,” said the petite girl in her sharp, caustic voice, “why are there switch marks all over its little a--?”
Lena and Samantha came around to survey the pansy’s damaged derriere and whisper excitedly to one another.
“Oh, that,” laughed Mandy with the ease of an accomplished liar. “Sometimes I whip Muffin’s butt just for the fun of it. After all, if it’s a-- belongs to me, I can do whatever I want with it!”
“Girl, you are too wicked!” said Samantha, shaking her lovely head in admiration.
However, the fault-finding Alexis would not be deterred. “Okay, let’s see what its sissy pecker looks like,” demanded the snooty blond, the tip of her tongue running over pretty white teeth.
“Oh, yessss!” hissed the coquettish Lena. “I’ll bet I can make it stand up straight just by blowing a kiss at it.”
“Some other time, girls,” said Mandy with a glance at her wristwatch. “I’ve got a big night scheduled for my little fairy.”
Mercifully the conversation ended, and the pathetic sissy nearly wept with relief once it was led outside and seated again in Mandy’s stylish sports car. After its public humiliation and torture, the poor slave would be only too happy to return home to its lowly duty of scrubbing toilets.
As they zoomed down the street, the wind blew back Mandy’s blond braids and she chuckled to herself. “You know, baby doll,” she said, “sometimes you are your own worst enemy.”
The petticoated thing looked back at her in remorse. “I’m sthoooo sthowwy, Missth Mandy. I want to be a good sthissthy. I weally, weally do.”
“Then you’re going to have to try a lot harder, Muffy. Good little sissies don’t cry and squirm when they are introduced to their owner’s friends. They smile and bat their pretty eyelashes and show what perfect angels they are.”
The exhausted fairy knew that any objection it offered would be violently overruled. “Yesth, Missth Mandy,” it obediently squeaked.
“And good little sissies always kiss other sissies when they are told to do so. And they always act like it’s a wonderful treat.”
“Yessth’m.”
“You know, precious, if you get with the program, you could have lots and lots of sissy fun. In fact, a well behaved sissy gets yummy surprises we haven’t even told you about.”
“Weally?” said the girlish creature, perking up.
“Sure. You know Sissy Shortcake, don’t you, sweetie? Oh, of course you do! You kissed it on the mouth this morning. Well, when Shortcake has been a good little fairy all week long, its owner Miss Karen kind of lets it take a break from being a sissy. You know what I mean?”
“Uh, no, Missth Mandy.”
Mandy took her right hand off the steering wheel and placed it on Muffin’s stockinged thigh. The pathetic thing gasped with pleasure.
“Well, princess, if Shortcake has been very, very good then it gets to play at being a real boy for just a little bit.”
The beautiful girl moved her hand up to caress the bare skin above Muffin’s stocking top. She could hear her effeminate toy panting with excitement.
“You know what that means, sissy? It means that for just a little bit, Miss Karen gives little Shortcake permission to have a stiffy. Its little wee-wee is allowed to get as hard as it wants. Wouldn’t that be fun, Muffy? To have a nice, hard dic-kie in your cute little sissy panties?”
The lovely teen girl let her hand travel to the hairless skin over Muffin’s pubic bone. Her fingers ever so lightly made teasing circles just an inch away from the dazed sissy’s waking p-nis.
“And you know what, precious? If adorable Shortcake has been a very, very, very good sissy, Miss Karen will peel off Shortcake’s panties and let the sissy lie face down on its Barbie towel and wiggle itself until it gets so excited it just can’t stand it! Now, of course, Shortcake can’t put its hands on its wee-wee -- but it can rub its sissy body on the towel all it wants! Oh, it’s so cute to watch it shake its little girlie a-- like the whole world depended on it!”
The pigtailed teaser knew Muffin’s member was rising to full attention and kept her hand at a careful distance. Her plaything now sounded as though it was having trouble breathing.
“And guess what, sweetie? Sometimes, Karen will put baby oil on her hands and rub her sissy’s wee-wee herself. Mmmmm! Mmmmm! It must be soooo nice for little Shortcake to have a pretty girl’s hands squeeze and cuddle its sissy stiffy!”
(To be continued)
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HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 17
“And you know what happens next?” asked the beautiful teen girl as her fingertips danced coyly next to her plaything’s erection.
“Uh-uh-uh, no, M-missth Mandy,” puffed the overwhelmed frilly fairy.
“What happens is that the poor little sissy just can’t control itself any longer. It just jerks and twitches like a total spastic. And then it pants and squeals and . . . and squirts its little spermies! It squirts them, Muffy! Squirts them right on its little Barbie towel! Can you imagine how that must feel, sweetie? Can you imagine being able to get hard and squirt your sissy spermies in front of a pretty girl -- like me?”
The tormenting cheerleader then withdrew her hand, for they had arrived in the garage of her home and it was time to get her aroused sissy toy inside the house.
“C’mon, sweet Muffy,” breathed the sexy girl into its ear as she unbuckled it and pulled it out of the car.
“Just think about how much fun spermies could be with me!” she continued to whisper as she guided the weak, dazed creature inside the house. “My hand could make your wee-wee so hard! I’d hold you so good! So tight! And when you spurted, it would be so exciting you’d faint!”
Suddenly, the overwrought sissy found itself in the living room. Mandy’s strong arms were wrapped around Muffin and holding the dazed creature so that its little hands were pinned to its chest.
And sitting right in front of them was Mrs. Daniels wearing tight black capri pants and a tight lavender tank top.
“Hi, Mommy, we’re home!”
The lovely woman looked up from her magazine.
“Hello, dar-- . . . Sissy Muffin! What happened to your panties? And what . . . what is the meaning of having an erection in this house! Did I not explain the rules, missy? How dare you!”
Mandy had released her fairy and placed herself some distance away from it. The miserable creature was now on its own. It tried to speak, but its mind was too foggy with the desire that the teen girl had poured into it.
“I took Muffin to a restaurant,” explained Mandy in a voice of dismayed innocence, “and it made a terrible sissy mess in its panties, Mommy. Don’t worry, though. Thanks to my quick thinking we were able to get the nasty stains out. But sissy was very rude and pouty to my friends. And then in the car, because it had no panties on, it started playing with itself, even though I told it to stop several times. I was driving and just couldn’t control the bad thing. And, another thing, it got a terrible report from Sissyland. Oh, Mommy, it’s just been an awful brat since I picked it up at school!”
“B-b-but, Misthtwess, t-t-that’sth not twue--“
“Shut up,” snapped Mrs. Daniels. “I’m not interested in your pathetic excuses.”
The beautiful woman rose from the sofa and crossed her arms over her magnificent chest.
“Sissy, sissy, sissy,” she sighed. “Just what has gotten into you? You’ve been given the cutest fairy clothes money can buy. You’re enrolled in the finest sissy school in the land. You’ve been made the pansy plaything of the prettiest girl in town. And how do you repay us? By engaging in the most disgusting and repulsive behavior I can imagine!”
Mrs. Daniels grabbed Muffin by its blond curls, bent its dainty head back, and brought her own beautiful face very close. “But I do not intend to be obstructed by a selfish piglet that can think of nothing except its own nasty little wee-wee. Therefore, naughty sissy, you will be punished -- and punished most severely! I intend to discipline you in a way that will make your previous session with the hairbrush seem like a soothing massage. Furthermore, I plan to call in a professional sissy trainer to help you get your act together, missy. It won’t be fun, but when she’s done with you, you’ll never be naughty again!”
The forceful woman released the trembling creature and turned to her daughter. “Darling, take Muffin to my bedroom and strap it down. I just have a quick phone call to make.” And then her high heels clicked out of the room.
The terrified, bare-bottomed sissy turned to the lovely teenager in pigtails. The insouciant girl threw back her shoulders to show off her pert young breasts. Then she stuck out her tongue and wiggled her adorable adolescent hips.
“Let’s go, little f-ggot,” she giggled. “You’re about to get your punishment. And I’m about to get my kicks!”
But poor Muffin could imagine no punishment worse than the betrayal that the lovely girl had dealt it, and once more the sissy burst into tears.
The End
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Coming Soon to This Website!
The exciting sequel to "Her Very Own Sissy":
MANDY'S LITTLE PLAYTHING
The adventures of Sissy Muffin continue, as our pretty hero faces new challenges from mistresses, trainers, teachers and spoiled teenage girls.