Or desserts, even, if you’re into messy food play (or toilet play, for that matter).
Our fact-checkers have red-flagged this claim as ‘Unsupported by evidence. Probable misinformation’. And they reckon the rest of the blog’s a load of old wank, too.
(The real thing: Mistress Eleise de Lacey)
No special Valentine’s Day theme today, you might ask? Well, you see, when you’re in a long-term relationship as I am, you don’t need a special day to show your love. Valentine’s Day is just another day as I see it, or rather, every day is Valentine’s Day.
That’s my take on it.
Unfortunately, my SO took a different view and expected a present. So we discussed it in our usual way and once we reached the part of the discussion where she takes the gag out of my mouth and reduces the tempo of whipping so that I can gasp out coherent words, I explained how for me, every day was Valentine’s Day. So now she expects a present every day. She says she’ll be giving me something every day too, to remember this conversation by. So that’s nice.
They do say love has no boundaries or limits and I’ve certainly discovered that to be the case, today and every day.
I was putting on my make up and getting ready for a lovely Valentine’s day date with William, when my sissy slave husband, Max, came into the room.
”Goddess, your date has arrived. He is in the living room, ma’am, do you want me to stay with him?”
”How thoughtful, honey. Yes kneel at his feet and worship his shoes until I come down.
Actually, you can help me with the zip on this dress.
Good boy, Max.”
I came downstairs in the shortest, tightest, reddest dress you have ever seen. My heels were not too high, as I expected to be dancing later.
William was asking Max about the netball and about his favourite team in the UK. Leeds Rhinos.
He adores Ashleigh Dekker, a truly great player.
I was surprised until William looked up at me and winked and smiled.
”OK, Max. We are going out now.
I expect all your chores to be done tonight and don’t argue with Annie who will be over soon to cucksit you.
She knows the routine for your bedtime and the TV soaps you can watch.”
”Yes, goddess, can I stay up until 10?
The soap is on late tonight because of the Rugby match.”
”That is up to Annie. You may ask her, OK?”
”Bye, honey.”
”Bye goddess.”
”Bye, Max.”
”Bye, master.”
Zoe
Annie sounds like the kind of empowered babysitter little Maxie needs, Ms Zoe. I hope she won’t hesitate to refuse his request or even send him up early if she’s got homework to do, nails to paint or boyfriends to call.
Best wishes
S
First Sissy.
The media are asking me all the time for an interview. They want me to talk about my wife, Katharine, as she is the President of the USA. They want to know if I am bored as her sissy wife, or who cooks in the private part of the White House or any number of trivial things.
Sometimes the requests are amusing, like what lippy I favour or who pays for the glamorous gowns I wear when supporting Katharine.
The President’s media team has to look at every request and decide if I can accept the invitation. It is usually ‘no, sorry.”
One TV show is a morning show for women and sissies and it is one I have been on many times. They are generally kind and get me to show off my wardrobe or my cooking skills or talk about my native country of the UK.
Katherine loves watching me on the show and often compliments me on my answers and the gracious way I avoid personal questions about her, like what her beauty routine is.
Today, however, the questions are not kind or simple, because of what I was heard to say at a political gala in Detroit when I thought the microphone was off. It was a big mistake and the media have been on hot alert for an explanation.
I was in a tight, short dress, sitting next to the President, when a very handsome man who was in the uniform of the US Marines walked by. I said, ”I wonder how big his cock is, I reckon I would be sore for a week, Mrs President.” Katherine smiled and turned to me, ”don’t be so crude, Maisie. not a good thing to say, or even think.”
The media went wild, and so the Media Team agreed I could go on the friendliest women’s show there is to apologise and explain my stupid remark. It went well, but I made sure I was contrite and assured the viewers that I am a good sissy, it was just the Marine was so cute.
The Marine was asked about it and said he was flattered and thought I was a very pretty and cute sissy.
The storm soon passed and for a while I wore very long and modest dresses and stayed silent whenever I was with the President.
It is two months later and I am in bed with Mrs President. We have made love, long and hard and I am sweating.
”I love you, Maisie, my first sissy.”
”Love you too, Mrs President.”
Zoe
I think it’s a good idea for the First Sissy to have his won Chief of Staff – ideally a no-nonsense ex-military older lady who can make sure he doesn’t get into any little scrapes of that sort. Not perhaps the direction any senior officer in the Forces might intend her career to go, but if duty calls, any servicewoman will surely answer.
Best wishes
S
With prolonged ejaculation denial, she has him shaking, while he adores and worships her every whim and move.
No doubt she does. Whimpering too, not that it will do him any good.
Best wishes
S
The thing about the marks is they really don’t last very long at all.
Two weeks at the most, in my experience.
Mr M
Indeed. My SO likes to keep mine refreshed; she says there’s nothing like a continuously sore behind, to keep my attention focused on what’s before me. And I can’t say she’s wrong about that.
Best wishes
S