1. Yoü can´t decide


    Date: 8/7/2017, Categories: BDSM, Trans, Author: klammer, Source: xHamster

    &#034He's here, Sissy- answer the door,&#034 she calls confidently from the dining room where I just poured her a glass of wine. I steel myself for the humiliating ritual that's been perfected through rote repetition- though the number of times it's performed, like every other degradation I suffer through on a daily basis, does little to lessen the sheer gut punch of the act of pure submission. I open the front door and step back to allow Sir through, my gaze downcast as not to make the punishable offense of eye contact. In my mind, the ridiculousness of this situation is heightened as he's quite a few years younger than me, not particularly well muscled, and not even as tall as me in flats, let alone the 5&#034 inch stiletto heels constantly required of me. But while he's wearing a trendy button up shirt and simple slacks, I'm attired in a ridiculous ensemble that's more petticoats and ribbons than satin dress material. I used to wear mostly black and detested over the top feminine accoutrements- so of course Mistress declared that my particular sissy style would be what she giggling referred to as &#034l****a Barbie Princess&#034. My entire wardrobe now consisted of mid-thigh length dresses and appropriate accessories in various shades of pink; from Pale to Electric. My naturally straight dark hair was dyed and exhaustively maintained platinum blonde, curled with pink highlights and held with ribbons into the occasional ponytail, or, more likely (like today), high ...
    pigtails that framed either side of my face in a mass of bimbo blonde curls that annoyingly flip into my eyes whenever I turn my head. Of course I have to maintain full, overdone makeup at all times, and my designer framed eyeglasses were replaced with sky blue contact lens. Today's outfit was a particularly frilly dress with puffy organza short sleeves and two full petticoats peeking out from the hem. Slightly beneath that are the bow tipped stockings that highlight my smooth legs and dainty ankles, my feet encased and contorted in pink patent high heels laced shut with sheer ribbons. Both my hands are adorned in silk, lace lined fingerless mittens. Despite the physical superiority I would have felt over this man in another life, now our roles were universally clear. Unfortunately, it's not just the outrageous clothing I wore, but the enf***ed behavior that cemented my role. I immediately curtseyed deeply, a ridiculously revised one Mistress taught me that consisted of exaggerated movements and a deep bow that showed off my enhanced cleavage. In addition, I grabbed the front portion of my hem and petticoats in each hand, lifting it so my tiny, inescapable titanium chastity device was on full display to him, it's integrated PA piercing securely compressing my once proud seven inches to a mere inch and a quarter. Panties for me was forbidden so that my emasculated state could always be shown easily when required, which was often. When Sir had expressed concern over another ...
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