little maid’s dress, to be honest.
display he’s experienced – is it sissy? Oh, sure, it would be embarassing to appear in public in a little girl’s dress, but the very worst public humiliation he has
experienced was a time when he went out pretending to be a normal man. Because it’s so ridiculous an idea! Simply ridiculous, isn’t it, sissy? That’s right, it is. And so are you, aren’t you?
It was when our ‘relationship’ had just started and it was still a
rather playful, sexual thing, not the 24/7 servitude it is now. Maybe he could
see the direction things were taking, I don’t know, but I found that more and
more often he was asking whether we could just have an evening out ‘as normal
people’. A guy and his girlfriend, not a
sissy-maid and mistress. After all,
despite all the games, he was a man, he would say.
On went a smart jacket and tie… frilly knickers below them, admittedly, and a
remote-controlled shock device below those, but he looked ‘normal’ enough on the
surface – a bit dweeby, maybe – and out we went, to a trendy bar.
a mind-game (oh how naïve he was about my intentions towards him back then) and
I was true to my word and zapped not once, no matter how tempted. We had been in the bar for about half an hour
and he was beginning to relax, when I made my move.
and joking together. They were indeed
rather glamorous. I imagined they were
having a couple of drinks together before going on to meet their dates – they certainly
looked dolled up for someone and I was not getting a lesbian vibe from them.
they were not as lovely as me, but I shushed him and told him it was fine: I
just meant they looked good, that was all.
“It’s OK for you to find other women sexy, you know” I smiled. “After
all, I do have the key – and not just to your heart.” He laughed too – more out
of nervousness than the feeble pun, I expect, and admitted that the two ladies
were indeed attractive.
|These are not actually the two ladies from the story. But the vibe is similar and so is the barman’s beard, which was just like that.|
“Off you go, then.”
deliberately clicked it up to 16 out of 20, holding it so he could see. His previous record was 14 and he had nearly
screamed the house down.
“And we’ll go up to 20. The
battery’s fully charged.” I picked the
remote up and rested my thumb on the button.
itself. He looked desperately around.
show me your pulling skills, or you can scream.
Five, four, three…”
knocking violently against a stool as he went. The disturbance made them both look up, and one smiled in a puzzled, friendly
he was stuttering and shaking with embarrassment as he tried to engage them in
conversation, so I doubt he made much sense even close up. Almost immediately, it became clear that it
was not going well. The friendly puzzled
smile faded, and she spoke quietly but firmly to him, while her companion just
pursed her lips in disapproval and called the barman for another drink. Obviously, he had not “pulled” (I’ll confess now
that I had no Plan B for what to do if he had… but it had not seemed very
me and started coming back. I met his
eyes and gave an almost imperceptible shake of my head and then gestured back towards
the bar. He knew what I meant. Real men don’t give up that easily, sissy. Be
forceful. Keep at it.
button again, and as if by magic he turned back, to play the real man once
more. His face was white – almost greenish.
His attempts to appear masculine were not helped by the fact that his sweating had
made translucent spots on his shirt, so the shadow of the bra underneath was
very visible, although I don’t know if either of the two ladies noticed. Again, he spoke to them and this time there
was the reaction I’d hoped for.
He’d have enjoyed a face-slap, but that was never going to happen, not
in the vanilla world, only in BDSM sessions and in movies. No: the one who hadn’t
spoken to him so far just lost it, basically.
She stood up, in his face (slightly taller, in her high heels) and told
him what she thought of creeps like him.
She spoke loudly and angrily – not quite shouting, but everyone in the
bar could hear her give my poor sissy a piece of her mind about how she was
sick of being unable to sit in a bar and have a quiet drink with her friend
without sad little bastards like him coming up and ogling them and trying on
his lame pick-up lines…. She went on for a while. It looked rather cathartic. I smiled myself and quietly left the place,
as a couple of other people went up to the bar to help.
|Only in movies, I’m afraid. And femdom sessions. And femdom movies, for that matter.|
I had just sidled into a nearby doorway to see what happened. Don’t
worry: he wasn’t beaten up or anything – they just marched him out of the bar
and shouted quite a bit more. Poor sissy. He does not deal well with conflict. Perhaps that is why he has allowed himself to
be sucked into his present lifestyle – there is no possibility of conflict in
his life now, just obedience.
with revulsion and popped on a maid’s outfit to serve me a drink. I allowed him to calm down, kneeling at my
feet, for quite a while before making sure the lesson had sunk in.
sissy…” I started, but he shook his head violently. A shame.
I was going to suggest going to a football match and getting into a
fight with the other side’s supporters.
Or paying some streetwalker several decades past her prime for an
encounter in a bleak concrete lay-by smelling of piss and diesel fumes (I don’t
think he’d even need his tube locked on: I have several times forced him to
tell me honest accounts of his fumbling attempts at sexual liaisons in early
adulthood and I can confidently predict that in that circumstance, little peter
would not be rising to the occasion). Real
quite a few things he might try.
|Isn’t that better, sissy? Much more your thing.|