Sissy's Submission: Becoming Mistress Sophie’s Slut
- Sophie
- May 10, 2024
- 7 min read
The air in the playroom was thick with anticipation. My sissy, dressed in his most delicate lingerie, stood before me, trembling slightly as he awaited my orders. He had spent the afternoon preparing himself for me, and now he was completely transformed into the slut he loved being—just for me. His eyes were downcast, his body already showing the signs of nervousness and excitement as he shifted on his heels, waiting to be acknowledged.
He was wearing a lacy black bra that barely held his small chest, the matching panties hugging his body tightly, showing off the bulge that strained against the delicate fabric. Over the lingerie, he wore a satin corset, pulled tight around his waist, cinching his already slender frame even more, making his hips flare out, just the way I liked. His fishnet stockings clung to his legs, connected by garter straps that made his thighs look absolutely delicious. On his feet were a pair of black patent heels, the stiletto design forcing him to stand unsteadily, but he wouldn’t dare move until I said so.
I stood in front of my slut, towering over him in my red leather dress, the tight material clinging to every curve of my body. The dress barely contained my large breasts, which spilled out provocatively from the top, drawing his hungry eyes upward as he knelt before me. I could see him fighting the urge to touch, to beg, but he knew better. His place was beneath me—always.
My leather bunny mask hid most of my face, leaving only my lips exposed, painted a deep crimson to match the dress. My hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail that fell down my back, swaying with every subtle movement I made. The high heels I wore clicked against the cold floor as I paced in front of him, each step a reminder of the control I held over him. My black stockings ran up to my thighs, disappearing under the hem of the leather, accentuating the power and femininity that I exuded.
He was still a man, despite the lacy bra, panties, and corset I had dressed him in. There was no wig to hide his masculine features—his jawline remained sharp, his chest still showing the faintest hint of muscle beneath the satin. His cock strained against the lace panties, a throbbing bulge that made his humiliation all the sweeter. His arms were muscular, but his submission was total.
"Do you like what you see, slut?" I asked, stopping in front of him, my breasts practically spilling out in front of his face.
"Yes, Mistress," he whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and lust. His lips quivered, his eyes darting from my breasts to the floor, desperate to please me but terrified of disobeying.
I smirked. "Good. You’re going to be my slut tonight, aren’t you?"
"Yes, Mistress," he repeated, the anticipation thick in his voice.
I circled him slowly, the clicking of my heels echoing in the room. The sound of my boots striking the cold floor was the only noise filling the space, and it was enough to make him shiver. His breath came in shallow, quick pants as I passed behind him, letting my hands trail lightly over the exposed skin between his corset and panties. I could feel the tension in his body, the way he trembled beneath my touch.
"You want to please me tonight, don't you?" I asked, my voice low and commanding.
"Yes, Mistress. I'll do anything to please you," he whispered, his voice barely audible, his body trembling at the promise of what was to come.
I smiled, stepping in front of him and lifting his chin with one finger. His eyes, wide and filled with need, met mine. He was completely at my mercy, and we both knew it. The sight of him dressed in such feminine attire, standing there in his heels, his cock already hard beneath the lace, made me wet with the power I held over him.
"Get on your knees, slut," I ordered, my voice sharp and cold.
He immediately dropped to the floor, his knees clicking against the hard surface, wincing slightly as the impact hit him. His hands remained at his sides, unsure whether to touch or not, but he knew better than to move without permission. His breath came in short, shallow bursts as he waited for the next command.
I leaned down, tilting his head up so I could see the desperation in his eyes. "You're going to be my fuck toy tonight, aren't you? Just like the slut you are."
"Yes, Mistress. I'm your slut. Your fuck toy," he whimpered, his cock straining against the lace, twitching with the need to be touched, to be used.
I stepped back, leaving him kneeling in the centre of the room, and walked over to the chest of toys that lined the wall. The sound of me opening the drawer, the soft rustling of the leather straps, filled the room. I could feel his anticipation building as he knelt there, waiting to see what I would do next. I smiled as I pulled out the strap-on, the dildo thick and long, designed to stretch him beyond what he could handle. This would remind him of his place.
As I attached the strap-on, adjusting the harness around my waist, I watched him from the corner of my eye. His chest was heaving now, his body trembling with anticipation, his eyes locked on the thick dildo that would soon be inside him. His cock twitched beneath the lace panties, more pre-cum already staining the fabric.
"Come here," I ordered, my voice steady, unwavering.
He crawled to me on all fours, his body shaking with each movement. When he reached me, he knelt up, positioning himself in front of me, his lips trembling as he waited for further instruction. I could see his cock straining through the lace panties, practically begging to be released, but he would get no such relief.
"Bend over the bench, slut," I said, pointing to the padded bench in the middle of the room. He complied immediately, his ass exposed and vulnerable beneath the thin fabric of his panties.
I moved behind him, gripping the waistband of his panties and pulling them down to his thighs, revealing his puckered hole, ready for me. He let out a soft whimper as the cool air hit his skin, his body already reacting to the vulnerability of the position. I could see his cock, now fully exposed, dripping with pre-cum, twitching in anticipation.
I teased his ass with the tip of the dildo, running it along his hole without pushing inside just yet. He moaned softly, pushing back slightly, desperate for more. His breathing had become heavier, more erratic, the anticipation of being filled driving him mad.
"You're going to take every inch of this cock," I whispered in his ear, pressing the tip of the dildo against his hole. "And you're going to thank me for it."
"Thank you, Mistress," he whimpered, his body trembling.
With one slow, deliberate push, I slid the dildo inside him. He gasped, his fingers gripping the sides of the bench as I stretched him, inch by inch. The room was filled with the wet, slick sound of the dildo sliding into him, mixed with his soft moans and the click of my heels as I stepped closer, fully burying myself inside him.
"Fuck, Mistress... it's so... big," he moaned, his voice high-pitched and needy, trembling with each thrust as I began to fuck him, the sounds of our bodies filling the playroom.
Each thrust was deliberate, slow at first, savoring the way his body tightened around the strap-on, his hips bucking involuntarily as I picked up the pace. His moans became louder, more desperate, echoing off the walls. The wet, slapping sound of my hips against his ass filled the room as I took him harder, driving the dildo deeper with each thrust.
"You're such a good slut for me," I growled, my hand reaching around to stroke his cock. It was slick with pre-cum, throbbing under my grip, but I had no intention of letting him finish just yet.
"Mistress, please..." he whimpered, his body quivering as he tried to hold back the inevitable release.
I pulled back abruptly, the dildo sliding out of him with a wet pop. He gasped, his entire body shaking as he collapsed onto the bench, panting, desperate for more. His cock throbbed in the lace panties, now soaked with his own pre-cum, but he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to come. Not until I said so.
I reached around, grabbing his cock through the soaked panties, stroking him in time with my thrusts. He moaned loudly, his breath coming in ragged gasps as I brought him closer and closer to the edge. His hips bucked involuntarily, but I tightened my grip on him, forcing him to stay still, to take my cock exactly as I wanted him to.
Just as I felt him near the brink of release, I pulled out abruptly, leaving him empty and trembling on the floor. His body shook with frustration, his cock twitching in desperate need, but I wasn’t done with him yet.
As I continued to stroke his cock, I watched the desperation build in his eyes. His hips bucked helplessly against my hand, his moans growing louder, more frantic. The lace of his panties was soaked with pre-cum, and his cock twitched with every stroke.
“Mistress, please… I can’t hold it,” he whimpered, his body trembling with the effort of control.
I grinned wickedly, tightening my grip, teasing him further. "You don’t get to come until I say so," I growled.
But his body betrayed him, and with a guttural moan, he exploded. Thick ropes of cum shot from his cock, spilling onto the bench beneath him. His entire body shuddered, his legs weak as the orgasm overtook him, leaving him breathless and humiliated.
I released him, watching him collapse against the bench, his chest heaving. "Look at this mess," I said coldly, dipping my finger into the pool of his cum. "You know what to do."
He knew his place, and without hesitation, he crawled forward, his face red with shame. His tongue darted out, lapping up the sticky mess he had made. The wet sound of his tongue against the bench filled the room, a reminder of his submission.
"Every last drop," I commanded, my voice sharp.
He obeyed, licking up every trace of his cum, his body trembling with each humiliating lick. When he had cleaned the bench completely, he knelt before me, head bowed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Mistress."
Such a Good Little Sissy
You’ve been stroking to my stories, haven’t you? All dressed up, dripping, desperate for attention. Tell me exactly how you want to be used, humiliated, or transformed—and I’ll write a custom story that leaves you aching like the pathetic little toy you are.
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