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SISSY SITTER FOR A CUCKOLD by Throne
🕑 Added 2021-08-21 00:13:05 +0000 UTCSISSY SITTER FOR A CUCKOLD
by Throne
My wife Tessa had made me strip naked, so she could inspect how well the hair remover had worked, all over my body. It was only two months into our marriage, and she had reduced me to a broken man, anxious to keep her happy at any cost. Even that wasn’t enough for her. She constantly found fault with me. Then she announced that she was going to try ‘roaching’. That’s a recently coined term for dating multiple partners, to imply that they scuttle off into hiding, like those insects. In this case, however, it was all going to be out in the open. I was appalled that she intended to cheat on me. Tessa said that I was such a dud in bed that it was my fault she had to do it. Now she was about to go out with the first of the guys she had met online. She had on a low-cut top and a short skirt, to show off her trim figure. I thought that at least I would have a few hours alone, to try to sort out what was happening. I was wrong.
There was a knock at the door. Tessa tossed me a piece of clothing. It was one of her old slips, a short one in satiny, cranberry-colored material. I quickly put it on, eager to cover up, even though I had no desire to wear anything feminine. Then she snapped at me to get down on my hands and knees. What was going on? Did she intend to let whoever was at the door, which I assumed was her date, see me like that?
“Crawl on over there, Richard” she told me, “and let in whoever’s there.”
I could tell she was serious. Crawling to the door, I reached up, turned the knob, and backed away as I opened it. Facing me was not a guy, but a very tall, Black woman. I’m quite short, and aware of other people’s heights. She leered down at me, appearing amused at my appearance. I guessed her age to be early 20s, like my own. She was heavy, with large breasts, wide hips, massive thighs, and thick sturdy calves, all shown off by a skintight, sleeveless top and slacks that looked like they were painted on. Her feet were in black shoes with square toes and chunky, three-inch heels. She had short hair, worn natural, and oversized hoop earrings.
“Well look at you, little thing,” she said, her wide mouth becoming a toothy grin. “My special project for the night.”
The towering female stepped past me and I hurried to close the door, still in my humble position.
Tessa said, “I’m so glad you could come, Mavis. My husband has a bad attitude that needs to be dealt with. Now that I’m going to be dating most nights for a while, I need someone to sit him.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Mavis said. “Sissy Sitter Supreme, at your service. I’ll take real good care of your loser.” She raised a colorful carpetbag that she was carrying. “Got some essential tools of my specialty, right here.”
“I’m only sorry that I can’t stay to see you use them.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he knows to tell you about all the fun we had.” She chuckled. “And there’s going to be a lot to tell.”
A car horn sounded. Tessa said, “That’s my guy. He’s a big bruiser who owns a construction company and works on site five days a week. I can’t wait for him to use his strength on me in bed.”
Mavis laughed. “Go and have a hell of a good time. Stay out as late as you please, girlfriend. I won’t run out of stuff to do with… what’s his name again?”
“It’s Richard, but you can call him any damn thing you want.”
“He’s real pale and looks soft, so how about his new name being… Creampuff? Yeah, I like that one.” She glowered down at me, “Sit up and beg, Creampuff.”
When I hesitated, she grabbed my long blond hair and pulled, getting me to sit on my haunches. All I could think of was that I had better not upset her. She had said to beg, so I brought my hands up into position, as if I was a dog hoping for a treat.
She let go and nodded her approval. “Good puppy. Now bark goodbye to your sexy wife.”
I yipped at Tessa, trying to sound appropriately doglike. My wife snickered as she went out the door. The thought of her being with some other man, openly committing infidelity, and intending to do it many more times, left me dizzy. There wasn’t time to dwell on that, however. As the door closed, the blunt toe of Mavis’ shoe poked me between my buttocks.
“Take off your pretty slip, Creampuff,” she ordered in a no-nonsense tone.
Too scared to not comply, and too afraid to speak, I yipped and hurried to tug the feminine garment over my head. I was sitting on the bottom of it, and had to lift my bottom to get it free. At last I had it removed, and knelt there, holding it over my crotch.
“Come on now,” Mavis urged. “Give that thing here and let’s see the goods.” When I handed her the slip, her attention went to my genitals. “Holy crap, Creamy. No wonder your hot wife has to leave home to get laid. What you got down there ain’t worth nothing. No woman could get off from that vanilla finger-cookie. I hope you at least know how to eat pussy.”
“Um… no,” I said weakly. “Just the thought of doing that makes me queasy.”
“Well, I’m going to have to un-queasy you. But we got lots to do before that.”
She set down her bag, turned to the side, and bent far over to open it. Her bottom was immense. It ballooned out as she changed position. In spite of myself, I was drawn to the sheer sexuality of it. My state wasn’t helped by the fact that Tessa hadn’t allowed me any sex for weeks. All she did was to tease me with her body, flaunting herself in skimpy lingerie. My penis twitched and got stiff. I glanced down. With no pubic hair around it, my manhood looked even more immature than it previously had.
Mavis put the sole of shoe against its underside and pressed it against my unmuscular tummy. “Don’t get much bigger when it’s hard, does it?”
“No, Ma’am,” I confessed, addressing her that way because it seemed correct. My voice was faint and she told me to keep it that way.
From her bag she took two lengths of yarn. Gathering my hair on either side of my head, she put it into two pony tails. Then she grabbed me under the arms and easily hoisted me to my feet. I stood there, totally intimidated, her big bosom thrust at me, the scoop neckline of her top showing plenty of cleavage, and the bumps made by her nipples revealing that she had on no bra. I quivered all over. Mavis brought her hands to my chest and got my nipples between her thumbs and forefingers. She slowly rolled them, sending powerful sexual signals to my brain. I couldn’t believe how intense the stimulation was. I was near enough to inhale whatever scented soap she had used, as well as a hint of perspiration, and even a trace of feminine musk. My eyes blinked nervously. I was certain she was reading every sign I gave. She rubbed her knee against my straining erection. My hips bucked involuntarily.
“Yeah,” she concluded. “I can lead you around by your baby dick, without even trying. But do you think it’s right for you to be pointing that bitesize bitty-bit at me? Are trying to be rude?”
“Well… I guess… I mean… it’s not on purpose.” She prompted me with a hard look on her chocolate-colored features. I surrendered and said, “It’s rude.”
“So, what should I do about that? Shake you so hard your head rattles? Or slap your face until it’s red? Or maybe just put you over my lap for some spanking?”
The way she presented everything, that last alternative sounded like the least violent. So I said, “You should spank me.”
“That’s what you want? A spanking from Mavis? Because you were so naughty? With your puny pecker?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Then hadn’t you better ask for what you want? And make it clear how you earned it?”
“I just…” Her broad face registered impatience. I swallowed uneasily and began, “Would you please give me a spanking, Mavis? I deserve one for being so impolite. I shouldn’t have let myself get hard and aimed my… um… little pickle… tiny tool… at you.”
“See now? That shows good intentions. And the way that shrimp dick is still standing up, Mavis is thinking that maybe you’ll enjoy having your tail tanned. Hmmm?”
“I don’t think so.” I was careful to still use that wispy voice, which sounded so girly.
“We’ll just have to see about that. The proof is in the pecker.” She gave my stiffy a flick with one pudgy finger. I whimpered.
The big woman took me by the hand and dragged me along behind her, like a reluctant juvenile. I was so close to that doublewide, bulging backside. Her butt cheeks rubbed against each other as she moved. They were shown off so well by her slacks. The material even molded itself to the valley between them, making it plain how deep that space was. I had the irrational desire to touch her there.
As if reading my mind, she asked, “You gawking at my booty, Creampuff?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
“You can’t stop that nasty behavior. I’m going to have to spank more than I thought.”
She led me to a straight-back, wooden chair and pulled it away from the wall. Then she sat her wide bottom on it. Seconds later she was pulling me across her spacious lap. It was solid and warm. Some part of me wished that her thighs were bare.
“You better reach down and hold onto the legs of the chair, Creamy,” she advised. “This is going to be a long hard ride for one of us, and I don’t mean me.”
Her one hand settled on the small of my back, steadying me. The other dropped onto my ass cheeks, massaging, as if she was gauging how much punishment they could withstand. In spite of myself, I let out a long trembling breath. My grip on the chair legs tightened. She was obviously in no hurry to begin, as she palpitated my spongy buns. I was uncomfortably aware of the hairless state of my body.
Mavis made a deep-throated purring sound, like you might associate with a Tom cat. The hand that had been on my rear end lifted and then came down hard. There was a loud slap, a flash of pain, and my answering wail. That first spank was followed by a flurry that covered the target all over. My feet kicked and my head lifted, but she was too large and heavy for me to even think of rebelling. Instead, I just lay there, over her firm thighs, and took it. Soon I was blubbering. Tears ran down my face. I was utterly broken by the time she stopped. The young woman helped me to stand.
She said, “You got no alibi, ‘cause the peter don’t lie.”
I was still hard. Mavis enclosed my erection in her hand. It was simple for her to completely contain it, her hand being large and my dick on the small side. She gripped harder, relaxed, then repeated the two steps several times. Despite the way my rump was blazing, what she did was incredibly stimulating. The pain and pleasure blended into one undifferentiated stream of sensations. After she let go, I remained confused about what hurt and what felt good.
Nodding agreement with herself, she told me, “You liked that, Creamy. Don’t bother trying to say different.”
My betraying penis made me wonder if she was right. This whole happening had me so mixed up.
Before I could think further, she declared, “Time to get you something to wear, Little Miss Smooth Skin.” She stroked my hairless flank. “It’s almost a shame to cover up all this soft paleness.” She sighed. “But we can’t have you thinking you’re a man, when that’s obviously not true. So let’s get you into something that won’t let you forget what you really are. Your wife said she was leaving some pretties on the bed.” She reached between my legs to tickle my scrotum. “Take me there, Creampuff.”
Still trying to regain my mental equilibrium, I started for the bedroom. Now it was her turn to watch my ass. I could feel her eyes on me. How must it appear, after that spanking? When we got into the room, the closet was opened, so I could see myself in the full-length mirror that hung on the inside of the door. With my hair up in twin tails, and no hair on my body, cheeks flushed, I didn’t look at all manly. She had me turn around and look back over my shoulder. What I saw was a very red bottom, the darkest areas bordered by deep pink. Turning back, my eyes were on Mavis again. Her extreme curves made me shudder with desire, which was not the reaction I wanted to have. She put her hands on her flaring hips and stood with her feet well apart.
Then I saw past her, to what was atop the bedspread. Oh, no. There was a belly shirt, cotton mini-shorts, leg warmers, and rubber flip-flops.
Somehow, I summoned up the courage to oppose Mavis. I said, “I don’t want to be a sissy.”
“Well, Creampuff,” she told me, her voice suddenly dulcet, “you need to try it before you decide.”
“I’m not… It isn’t fair to…” I was having trouble finishing a sentence.
Mavis shushed me. “Isn’t your wife out with another man? And didn’t she cut you off from sex, a while ago? And get rid of your body hair? Hmmm? Now she has me here to help you. When I got here, you were wearing her old slip, that attractive red one. At the moment, I’ve got you naked. With your ass spanked and on fire. Plus, there’s the way your cute little dick keeps popping up. Soooo…”
“But I’m a guy. I can’t wear that stuff. It’ll make me look like… like…”
She helpfully finished for me, “… a bratty teenage girl. Well, you do have attitude issues. And we already settled that you no longer qualify as a husband. I mean, right now, your wifey could be in a lip-lock with that stallion of hers. And maybe he’s got one of his hands on her boob. She might be squeezing his jumbo meat-stick through his pants. Plus, you just know she’s loving it. Am I right, or am I right?”
The way Tessa had left the house, so eager to replace me with some big lug, undercut any argument I might try to make. My head drooped and my shoulders sagged. I let out a long sigh.
Sounding like I had already given up, which was pretty much the case, I offered, “But maybe I can turn things around with Tessa.”
Mavis threw back her head and laughed. “Good luck with that, Creamy. You and your finger-dick don’t have as much chance as a mouse at a cat convention. Just forget it, and try to be the best sissy you can, which might at least keep her from tossing your ass out altogether.”
“You think she might…?”
My sitter have an elaborate shrug. “If I give her a bad report, and if she can’t see that I had some success, well…”
She left the possibility hanging in the air. Perhaps, if Tessa was pleased with that she saw and heard later, that would give me a place to start, so I could repair some of the damage already done.
I nodded and gave in. “All right. If it’s what my wife needs to see.”
“That’s a good girl,” Mavis said with a smirk. “Now get into that nice pink top.”
“If I could put on the shorts first,” I suggested, anxious to cover my nude genitals.
With one sharp look, she ended that hope. I reluctantly picked up the top. It had been face down. When I saw the front, the word SUGAR was written in curlicue red letters. I cringed inwardly, but got it over my head and put my hands through the armholes. Mavis reached in to tug it down, as if I couldn’t manage it by myself. It was odd to be in such close proximity to such a sexily built female, but in such a bizarre situation. She stepped back to observe the results, and rewarded me with a crooked smile. Then I was allowed to don the shorts. It took an effort to work them up my hairless legs. When they were near the top, she stopped me.
“Now tuck your pecker, Puffy. Push that bitesize piece of candy down and back. Hold it between your thighs while you pull your pretty yellow shorts the rest of the way up. Damn, your wife scored good at the thrift store. Get them all the way up. That’s right. With your parts all squeezed down, it looks like you don’t have anything but a pussy there. Heh! Now turn around.”
There was still a tiny bit of fight left in me. I said, sounding sulky, “Do I have to?”
“You do, unless you want to go over my lap again.”
I bit my lip and rotated, so she could inspect me from the rear. Mavis enthused, “Look at that. The seam in the back goes up between your butt cheeks. Like you’re trying to draw attention to your money-maker. Shake a tailfeather for me, Creampuff.”
My hands went to my hips, I bent forward slightly, and wagged my bottom at her. “Like that?”
Mavis clapped her hands. “Just like that. I didn’t have to tell you to stick it out before you wiggled it. You’re halfway to being a pansy, without even trying. Guess you had the makings of a girly-boy inside you, all along.”
I sniffled and said, “Don’t say that, Mavis. Please. This is only temporary. I’m going back to being a regular guy after tonight.” Without much conviction, I added, “Right?”
“That’s up to your Missus. After being with a real man, she maybe won’t want you getting ideas about trying to get treated like one yourself. It could be better all around, if she just puts you in panties and treats you like her little sister, or niece, or house pet, or whatever.”
My lips quivered. I even stamped my bare foot, like a petulant child. “She can’t do that to me.”
“Like hell she can’t. You started out in a bad position, and you just keep losing ground.” She put her hands on my shoulders. “What’s she going to think, after I tell her about spanking your ass, and how you kicked and cried?”
“You can’t tell Tessa about that,” I blurted.
“I’m not going to lie to her, Little Miss Yum-Yum. No way. It’s part of my job to give a full report. And to have you describe the best parts. Like, you’ll be telling her what it was like to get into your special Creampuff clothes. In fact, why don’t you sit on the floor and get on those legwarmers?”
They had wide horizontal stripes in rainbow colors. I didn’t want them on me. I didn’t want to appear even more girly than I already did. But when Mavis tapped her fingers impatiently on her full thigh, I got down onto the carpet and put my foot into the first one. It wasn’t like getting into my pants. It was kind of pleasant, the way it caressed my smooth skin as I inched it up. After both of them were on, Mavis had me stand. She made me strut around, with my arms held out partway to the sides, wrists limp, taking small steps and placing one foot in front of the other, while swinging my hips. It was crushingly humiliating.
“Lick your lips, honey,” she instructed. “Then pucker them up. Now shake your head, to make them ponytails dance around. Looking good, Sidewalk Princess. Walk the walk.”
Finally, I had to slip my feet into the flip-flops. They were green and each had a wide, yellow, plastic flower over the arch of the foot.
Mavis chuckled. “You look like you can’t decide between being a teenage slut and an entry-level hooker. Show off the merchandise. Strut around for me. Let’s head out to the living room.”
When we got there, she sat her broad bottom on the easy chair that I thought of as my own. I walked the way that I thought she wanted me to, now with my hands on my hips, then with one behind my head.
“Okay. Proposition me,” she said.
I moved directly in front of her. It was so shameful to be like that, with no body hair, those ponytails sticking out on the sides of my head, using a soft voice and suggestive body language, and wearing such a trashy outfit, that left my midriff bare. How would a prostitute act? I began to chew imaginary gum, and put on a bored expression.
“Hey,” I said. And then? “You want to have some fun?”
Mavis allowed, “Maybe. You going to eat my snatch?”
She meant give her oral sex. I felt my features make themselves over into a grimace of distaste. That was not on my list of what I’d like to do to her fantastic body. Even so, the memory of that harsh spanking was still fresh in my memory. My poor sitter was so sore.
So I told her, “Sure.”
“Is it free, or are you going to charge?”
I hadn’t thought of that. Without considering what I was saying, I said, “Five dollars.” No, that was way too low. “I mean, twenty bucks.”
“So which is it. Five or twenty?”
“Twenty five.” It didn’t sound as street-tough as I had meant. Then I undercut myself by adding, “If that’s okay.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Sounds like a deal. But first I’ve got to complete your look. Grab me my bag, Cream Cheese.”
I hurried to obey. She opened it and took out a zipper pouch. Opening that, she extracted several cosmetics items. Then she told me to kneel, nice and close. That put me between her feet, and those shoes that seemed so severe to me. Mavis angled her body forward, making her wide hoop earrings sway. Her dark face loomed over me. She had a tube of lipstick open and ready to use.
“Show me some kissy lips,” she said.
I did, and she applied bright crimson lipstick, none too carefully. Then came eyebrow pencil, eye shadow, a blush brush, and a coating of gloss over the lipstick. I could smell the scents of what was all over my face. She took out a pump applicator and spritzed perfume at me. It was a sickeningly sweet smell.
“Now you look more like a working girl,” she concluded. “Let’s hear that sales pitch again, and make me want your mouth on my twat. Otherwise, it’ll be spanking time again.”
Still on my knees, looking up at her heavy bust, and past that to her leering face, I searched for the right words. Trying to sound sultry, I started with, “Yo. Want me to eat your pussy?” I took a steadying breath. This was totally mortifying. “I’ll do a real good job.” Her expression became skeptical. I was losing her. “I’ll… um… get my tongue all over it. All over your pussy. And inside, too.” Her brow creased with disapproval. I boldly put my hands on her warm thighs, let my tongue peek out and then pulled it back. Did that twice more. She was interested again. “You won’t ever forget what I do for you, because…” Whoa. I had gotten myself stuck in a corner, and needed a reason fast. Unbidden, the words came. “You’ll never forget how I use my mouth on you, because I love doing it. I can’t get enough. It’ll be like…” Yeah? “… like I’m kissing your mouth and loving the taste… and the feel… of it. Like I don’t ever want to stop.”
“Sounds like my money will be well spent,” she allowed. “How about if you start by taking off my shoes?”
I hastily unknotted the laces and then loosened them. As each shoe came off, I gave the foot a brief massage. Then I impulsively kissed the insides of her fleshy thighs, through the skintight material. She purred her approval. Mavis stood and told me to pull down her slacks. They were so snug, and her bottom was so big, that it took some doing. I couldn’t avoid touching that massive posterior. It felt terrific, even under those less-than-ideal circumstances. My penis throbbed and swelled slightly. Unfortunately for me, it was still bent back and stuck that way, my snug shorts offering no room. Once the slacks were all the way down, she stepped out of them.
“Like what you see?” she wanted to know.
Her pussy was in front of me. Those large but shapely legs begged to be touched. She had small feet, for such a big woman. My mouth was dry.
When I found my voice, I told her, “I like it.”
Putting my hands on the backs of her sturdy calves, I pressed my lips to one thigh and then the other. She moved her feet apart. Mavis had a triangle of short wiry pubic hair. Her plump mound was split down the middle by fat pink lips. I was close enough that, with every breath I took, their fishy, somewhat sour scent assailed my nostrils. It wasn’t pleasant, and yet my arousal was mounting. She sat slowly, swinging her knees apart as she did. Those meaty labia parted, giving me a close view of the moist interior. My stomach lurched. She inched her rump forward until my target was almost hanging over the edge of the seat, for easy access. Mavis took hold of my ponytails. She used them to tilt back my head, so that I was looking up at her lust-filled face.
“Mealtime,” she said, and made a wet sound by drawing air across saliva that was puddled on her tongue. The expectant Black woman gave my hair a yank and then let go.
There was no turning back. I tried to summon some inner masculinity, to hold onto while I got through this. But there was none available. My self image was nakedly vulnerable, as if waiting to be reshaped. I made myself bring my mouth closer. Her odor grew stronger. The back of my neck tensed. I extended my tongue and it touched her slick pussy lips, went between them. I licked up and down, the taste revolting me. As awful as it was, I was also in contact with her most intimate spot. That was still an act of sex, and I was overcome by the intimacy of it. I lapped and then probed. Belatedly, I remembered to pay attention to her clitoris, which appeared much larger than my wife’s. Getting it between my lips, I sucked gently, while sliding my tongue over the foremost portion of it. Mavis moaned loudly.
She kept me down there for quite a while. Toward the end, I sensed that she was building toward a climax. Sure enough, she grabbed my ponytails, pulled my face more firmly against her pubes, and blasted off into the sexual stratosphere, sounding like she was speaking in tongues. Mavis got very wet down there. I slurped it all up. At last she relaxed. I realized my hands were on her cushy hips, and hoped she wouldn’t make me take them away. All I could do was lay there, my erection so cramped in the confining shorts. At last she told me I could move back. I wasn’t done, however, because she wanted a foot rub while she recovered.
After a while she said, “Let’s get you up and moving. I don’t want to disappoint your wife by not having you do any housework. And before you ask, no, you can’t wash your face or rinse out your mouth.”
I got off the floor and gazed appreciatively at Mavis, who was sitting there, head lolled back, looking well satisfied. She didn’t bother to close her legs.
Instead, she told me, “Go fetch my bag, Captain Creamy. I’ve got the perfect thing for you to wear.”
The words came into my head, for me to object to more of the girly wardrobe, but they didn’t reach my mouth. I meekly left the room and retrieved her copious bag. She took out a flat box, about as long and wide as a magazine, and an inch deep. Opening it, she held it so I could see what was inside. I winced. It was an apron, a black one bordered with white lace, and fitted with wide ties. There was no bib front.
“Now lose that hooker outfit,” she instructed. “So you can get into your housework uniform.”
The apron didn’t qualify to be called that, but again I didn’t speak. Instead, with Mavis’ eyes on me, her full-lipped mouth smiling with amusement, I stripped naked. My little dick sprang up, uncooperatively hard, making it appear that I was enjoying all this in some perverse way. But I wasn’t. Or was I? She brought her queen-size legs together and sat forward on the chair. Without being told to, I stepped up to her. Mavis motioned for me to turn around. I did, and she positioned the tiny apron over my male parts, then tied it in the back.
“There you go,” she said happily. “A nice fluffy bow for a fluffy sissy.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I agreed, trying not to sound as upset as I felt.
“Tessa told me there’s a mess of dishes and bowls and glasses and stuff in the kitchen sink, just waiting to be washed up. And you’re dressed for the job. Aren’t you?”
“Yes.” She was waiting for more. I improvised, “I’m wearing my pretty apron, which is perfect for any sort of cleaning jobs you have in mind.”
She got to her feet, still naked from the waist down. “Than let’s get to getting.”
Mavis gave me a slap on the bottom. I scampered out of the room, automatically maintaining a feminine gait, wishing I was allowed to stop swishing my hips, knowing that she had a perfect view of the way they were moving. I could feel the tails of the apron ties brushing my cheeks. All I wanted to do was run away and hide, though that option was not available to me. We got to the kitchen and there were yellow rubber gloves waiting for me on the counter. I donned them and set right to work. Mavis went to the fridge, took a can of soda, and popped the top. She settled herself on one of the high stools in the breakfast nook, with a clear line of sight to me. To try to stay in her good graces, I twitched my bottom around as I worked. Mavis’ vaginal scent clung to my nose and lips, and her taste was strong on my tongue.
After all the dishes were done and stacked in the drainer, she picked a rubber spatula from the second drawer. Then she took me to the hall closet. Inside there was a feather duster that I didn’t remember having ever seen before. She had me take it and dust the baseboards, with the requirement that I bend forward at the waist. That made a spectacle of my bare spanked bottom, and pulled at the muscles and tendons in the backs of my legs. Soon there was a strain in my lower back. She was a cheerful taskmistress, making me go over spots and occasionally swatting my fanny with the spatula.
“You like it better when I hit straight on, like this?” she wanted to know, and gave me a demonstration of that technique. “Or does it sting sharper when I snap my wrist, this way?” Mavis delivered a second smack, which hurt more.
My voice was unsteady, and still wispy, as I said, “The second one stung more.”
“You sure? Let’s try both ways again.”
She landed several more blows, alternating methods. At the same time, I realized that she distributing them evenly, so that no part of my already hurting backside was spared. She also landed a few on the backs of my thighs, where the padding is not as thick, and the pain is therefore greater. By the time I had convinced her that the wrist-snap was the most effective style, my tail end was blazing again. My last job was to clean the bathroom, even though I had already done it so recently. She made me spend extra time scrubbing around the base of the toilet, until stray hairs from my scalp were stuck to my forehead with perspiration. Mavis left the room toward the end, and came back with a message.
“Your wife called and she’ll be home soon. She wants me to tell you that she had a wonderful date and that you shouldn’t worry, because the guy was well equipped for their bedroom visit.”
From down on the bathroom floor, I checked back over my shoulder. Mavis was chuckling at my plight. She let me get up, which involved aching muscles. After I put away my supplies, like some common cleaning woman, I wondered if she would at least let me put more clothes on. While I stood there, tugging down on my apron, she caught the hint.
“Oh, don’t you want Tessa to see how sweet you look in that? It shows off your pink and red bottom so well. How about if we leave it like it is, and if she doesn’t like it, you can put on something else? Okay?”
“All right,” I mumbled, knowing I had no other choice.
Ten minutes later, while I was putting away the last of the dry dishes, we heard the front door open. Mavis pinched my ear and gave it a twist. She marched me through the house, to the living room. There stood my bride, with her clothes slightly disarranged and her hair mussed. She had a mischievous expression.
Mavis said, “Looks like your date went real well, girl.”
“Damn right,” my wife answered frankly. “That man really knew how to lay pipe.”
“Ha!” Mavis let go of my ear and pointed toward the carpet. She told me, “Nose on the carpet, Creampuff.” I assumed that position. To Tessa she said, “Come around here and take a look at Cream Cheese’s ass. I colored it up real pretty.”
Tessa gasped when she saw my backside. “You sure did. Let’s sit on the sofa, so we can see it while I tell you all about my date.”
They left me in that demeaning position, as the woman I married went on about how well she had been taken care of in bed. She compared her date to me, and I came in second in every department.
“So,” Mavis wanted to know, “how many times did you finish?”
“He brought be close to orgasming a couple times, but only put me over the top once. That was the only thing that I wanted more of.”
“No problem. I gave Cream Cake a lesson in eating pussy. After a hard pounding from a big cock, the best thing is lots of licking from a soft tongue.”
“That sounds good,” Tessa agreed, “but I was too knocked out to clean up afterwards. My pussy is a sticky mess.”
“Fine. You can have those missing climaxes and get your twat a tongue bath at the same time.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” my wife said in surprise. “I mean, it would be kind of disgusting for him, eating another man’s spunk, but…”
“But nothing. Let’s get you two into the bedroom. If he doesn’t do a terrific job, I’ll give him a butt smacking that’ll leave him sore for 24 hours.”
Warming to the idea, Tessa said, “You heard her… Creamy. Bedroom time.”
I got my nose off the carpet and saw the two of them standing over me, their faces devilish. Mavis told me not to bother rising, that I could simply crawl along behind them. As I did that, I couldn’t stop ogling their bottoms. I needed sexual release so desperately. In the bedroom, my wife had me remove her panties before she got onto the bed. She raised her short skirt. Then I had to kneel between Tessa’s legs and get my face directly in front of her snatch. Her pubic hair was stuck together and her pussy lips were all gummy. My stomach churned as I took a long slurp, from bottom to top. That left me with my tongue covered in her bedmate’s semen, along with her sexual secretions, all of which I had to gag down.
Mavis excused herself to go get another soda. Tessa described, with obvious pleasure, how long and thick her date’s cock was, how much larger than mine. She reminded me over and over that I had my mouth where it had so recently been. She kept me down there until she had two shuddering orgasms. After a final round of lapping up her climactic fluids, I was told to get back down on the floor.
“That’s where you belong,” she sneered. “You’re now a cuckold and, I can see, an apron boy. Ha! I’ll be dressing you girly all the time, from now on. It’s panties and stockings and see-through tops for you, Creamy the cream pie eater.”
My Black sitter reappeared, soda in hand. She sat on the edge of the bed and ordered me to hug her leg. I got both arms around her solid calf and clung to it, strangely under her power, and needing that contact for security. It was difficult to believe how much she had accomplished in one evening.
Mavis, obviously thinking along the same lines, told Tessa, “I got him broken down pretty good tonight. Of course, I’ll be doing more of that, every time you’re on a date and I’m taking care of him. The thing is, each time I destroy some part of who he used to be, I’ll work to replace it with more of who I’m turning him into. I know you’ll like the results.”
“I’m certainly thrilled with what you’ve done so far. I’ll want more of what I just had, the clean-up and cum-again, after every date, even if the guy I was with made me finish a half dozen times. It’s not just the extra orgasms, but how I’m getting them. Making Creampuff lick up the mess a lover left inside me is… exciting.”
“And it’ll get better, the more you have him do it. Trust me. He’s not the first husband I’ve tamed and trained. And you’re not the only wife who’s marriage I’ve helped to fix. In fact, let me give you a few tips for what to do while I’m not here.”
I shivered as I listened to Mavis, advising my wife on how to mistreat me. One trick she passed along was particularly effective. Let me describe how it worked, when Tessa tried it for the first time, late the next afternoon.
“Let’s go to your closet,” my wife said.
She had me wearing nothing but a vest with silver sequins all over the front, stockings with something glittery in them, and slippers with their tops covered in rhinestones. My hair had been teased up and sprayed, so that it looked like some weird punk style. For make-up, there was an excessive amount of blue shadow on my eyelids, and several slashes of candy-apple red lipstick applied with intentional sloppiness.
“We’re going to pick one of your belts, for me to use on your ass, Creamy,” Tessa announced. “After all, you won’t be needing them as often, because you’ll only be wearing male clothes while you’re outside this house. How about this nice wide one? Yes,” she said, taking it off its hook, “this will be ideal.” She doubled it over and slapped it against her open palm. “Don’t you agree?”
In a fluting voice, I assured her, “It’s just right, dear. I’ll try not to do anything wrong, so you won’t have to use it.”
She laughed out loud. “You stupid ninny. I don’t need a reason to whip your wimpy ass. Now put your elbows on the side of the mattress. That’s right. And move your feet apart. Another few inches, Creamy Icing. Every time I hit you, think about how I’m using your belt to do it. And how you can only wear what I say from now on. Panties under your man pants, when you go out.”
Without warning, she slapped the doubled-up belt across both my buttocks, making me holler. I was able to hold my pose, but just barely. She rained down so many blows, leaving time between them to remind me, over and over, that I was being beaten with that symbol of my former masculinity. By the end, I was weeping nonstop, unable to control my tears, with my nose running too. I was a blubbering wreck.
“I’ll be on my second date tonight,” she reminded me. “Mavis says she plans to do lots of work on your head while I’m gone, getting you into your new mindset. And when I get home, I’ll have a big load of warm jazz for you to eat from my well-used pussy. Just think, Creamy. Your tongue will be in there all the time, but your puny dick will never feel it again. Be a good little loser, and I might let you give yourself a hand job, once every couple of weeks, while Mavis and I watch. And right now is the last time you’ll ever hear me call you Richard, in this house.”
I was spiraling downward, into the depths of submission and emasculation. How much would they be able to remake my mind? I wasn’t sure, but hearing her lay out what would happen about eight hours later, and beyond, had my undersize penis as hard as could be.
