Surrender

"Is this your first time, with a man" he asked.

"Yes," she answered staring at the ground.

"You're nervous," he asked, gently lifting her chin so she had to look him in the eye.

"I...I'm sorry," she whispered, wishing she had more confidence at this very moment.

"Sorry? For being nervous?"

"Yes," she admitted. "I know that must upset you."

"Upset me? Darling, that makes you all that more desirable to me."

"I don't know what to do," she said.

"No, pet, you know exactly what to do. Don't pretend you have not dreamed about, fantasized about this moment for years."

"I..." She felt her face flush, his words touching her, honest, knowing. "Maybe."

He lifted her chin again, gazed at her. "You've been imagining this moment from the first time you realized you were different."

"Yes," she admitted, thinking quickly now, compressed, thoughts she had for years.

"Sissy?"

"Yes," she swallowed, that one word cutting like a knife, through all her defenses, all her fears, all her hesitations.

"You know exactly what to do." He was unbuttoning his pants, carefully, not letting them fall, but loosening them so he was free.

She stared at it, the thing she fantasized about for years, as he said. Hard. Powerful. Masculine. Involuntarily, she reached for it, let her manicured fingers touch it, grip it, wrap around it. She held it, felt it throbbing, gently, but thickening, the strength. It was all that a man was, everything, there, before her eyes.

Looking at it, she never felt more feminine in her entire life. Never felt her own maleness feel so small, such a little part of her. Looking at it, she realized that though born a boy, she was nothing like him, nothing like a man, never thought that way, never identified herself as so.

He waited, patiently. He knew the thoughts running through her head. It took only a matter of seconds, but he knew that the beautiful creature before him, whatever her genetics, was in that instant, a woman. He knew that she knew.

He watched as she opened her mouth at the same time her eyes fluttered, closed.

He watched as she leaned forward, drawn to it, accepted, wanted, desired.

He gasped as her soft lips touched him, shuddered, his own masculinity as powerful and overwhelming to him as her femininity was to her.

Both born males, he knew as he felt her wet lips touching him, now, forever, he was a man, she was a woman.

Man.

Sissy.

He knew.

She knew, too.

Accepted.

Desired.

Wanted.

Needed.

She surrendered to her lifeblood, her calling, to herself.

He made her what she was. What she wanted.

"There, there," he pet her hair, holding back, knowing enough to let her pace, trying not to let himself pull her mouth over him.

She surrendered. Worshipped. Woman. Man.

Image from Sharply Dressed Man

Would you like it?

"Just try it, you might like it," she said, pulling the cock out, looking over at her feminized husband.

He shook his head, no.

"But you've never tried it," she insisted, "how can you know if you'd like it or not."

He shook his head again.

"You're so strange, sometimes. I don't know why you get all hung up about things like this."

"I just know."

"You just know, like you knew you'd hate asparagus? And now you love it after I made you try it?"

He looked away.

"Or is that it," she giggled. "You're afraid you'll like it, aren't you? That once you taste a man's cock, you'll realize how fucking good it is."

She saw his face redden, knew she'd stumbled onto his true fear. It wasn't that it disgusted him, it was just the opposite.

"You want to try it, don't you?"

He said nothing.

"Look at me. You want to try it, don't you? You want to taste it. Lick it. You want to suck it, savor it. You want to try cock, don't you, sweetie?"

"Yes," he gulped, trembling ever so slightly, from fear, from excitement.

"See, was that so difficult? Come here, sweetie, some try it, it's okay, I won't be mad if you like it, I won't be jealous. Come on, I'll help you, here, go slow, sissy, go slow."

Image from Backseam Extreme

Do You Like?

I received an email from Emily that had the title, "Do You Like?" I opened it up and found this. I sent an instant message back, which led to little Gmail chat session with her, that got me a little hot and a little ashamed.

Me (1:22 pm): Yes, she's very pretty.

Emily (1:22 pm): Duh, yea, she's pretty, but that's not what I mean.

Me: What? Blow jobs? I'm confused.

Emily: Giggle. Check your email.



Em: Get it? How about that? Do you like? Attractive and hot, no?

Me: Um, yes, she's pretty, too.

Em: Not the girl, silly! Look at them again, the other, um, thing .

Me: Emily!

Em: Come on, sweetie, just indulge me. Look at them again. I know a smelly, hairy man may not do much for most women (I've told you before women are so much prettier), but look at those cocks! Hot!

Me: Okay.

Em: Oh, you're being difficult. Watch how easy this is. Hey, you know our friend Erica? She's amazingly beautiful. Her body, her skin, are so hot, so wonderful. If I wasn't straight, I'd totally do her.

Me: Love to see that.

Emily: See, a woman can say another woman's hot, beautiful, whatever, no big deal. So, look at them again (NOT THE WOMEN). Do you like?

Me: Maybe.

Emily: Come on, you're not getting excited at all looking at those?

Me: A little.

Emily: Email.

Emily: There, how about that, TOTALLY HOT, isn't it?

Me: Yea...she is.

Emily: NOT THE WOMAN!!!

Me: You're making me blush. Okay, maybe a little.

Emily: You're boy side is such a pain sometimes. Stop. Are they hot or not?

Me: Fine. Yes.

Emily: Do you like?

Me: Fine, again, yes.

Emily: See? Was that so hard? Did time freeze because you admitted a man's (men's) cock(s) were hot?

Me: No.

Emily: Are you being honest, or are you just toying with me? Seriously. I know lots of men are icky, but, those cocks, do you really like? Do they turn you on at all?"

Me: A little.

Emily: You've got a ton of girl in you, sweetie, there's nothing wrong with being a little attracted to certain men. Look at that last picture again. She is very pretty, like you're pretty. Imagine she's you. Still like?

Me: Maybe.

Emily: A man's cock resting on your tongue, about to fully enter your mouth. Do you know how much I love that. Wetting my mouth, tasting cock.

Me: You never seem to want to...

Emily: Cock, silly, cock :)

Me: Hey!

Emily: Laugh. But this isn't about me. It's about you. I know you're part boy. I know you LOVE women. Tell me, when you're a girl, though, tell me, have you ever imagined it? Being that second woman, eyes closed, waiting, so near. That third woman, eyes closed, tasting it? Have you ever fantasized about it?

Me: Maybe

Emily: I knew it...hell, I know it. Of course you do. I know the girl in you must fantasize about it sometimes.

Me: That doesn't mean I'd do it!

Emily: But you fantasize about it. My pretty girl, you fantasize about it. Touching a cock. Tasting a cock. Licking. Sucking. You fantasize about it, don't you?

Me: Yes.

Emily: Email


Emily: I fantasize about it, too. I don't know that I'd EVER want to share you, but I fantasize about it. Helping you. Teaching you. Turned on now, sissy?

Me: Yessssssssssssss

Emily: Good! Cause when you get home tonight, you're going to take that sexual frustration out on me. With your mouth. On my pussy. While I'm telling you how hot it would be to watch you suck a cock.

A challenge

Commenter, Master X, asked/challenged me to write the short story, Taste, below, from another perspective.

SBMasterX has left a new comment on your post "Taste":

That's so sexy. Ok, here's a challenge/suggestion: now write it as if it were a master instead of a mistress... and find a complementary photo as well.

Master X

Thus, I present to you the results of that challenge. First, the picture:


Now, the accompanying story. I was not sure if Master X was asking that the submissive be a man, woman, tv, etc. I'm writing it from the perspective of a sissy, but could easily do it from any gender.

********************

He'd been sitting patiently in the straight backed chair in the corner of the living room for several hours. Not that he had much choice in the matter, given the cuffs encircling his wrists and ankles, all attached to the chair itself. He made quite the amusing picture, depending on one's point of view, dressed up in lingerie--a garter belt and stockings, panties and a bra, a slip, all in black with white lace trim--heels, a wig.

While some men would be cartoonish so attired, his slight frame, his smooth hairless skin, together with the wig, the carefully applied makeup, made him look not garish, but actually quite pretty.

"Pretty," the other thought to himself walking into the living room, looking at the prey captured before him.

Though the bound creature was grown, in his mid thirties, even wearing "normal" clothing, he looked boyish, young, innocent, succulent. Wearing women's clothes, he was feminine entirely.

When the man entered the living room, the feminine creature looked up, eyes widening, the hunger evident.

"You know where I've been, don't you," he asked the bound beauty.

"Yes," the svelte creature whispered, looking down, almost ashamed.

"You fear me?"

"A little," he said, avoiding the man's piercing blue eyes.

"So did she. At first. It isn't surprising, given what she's used to," he said, eying the feminized form tied to the chair. "Her fear didn't last though, how could it?"

Without another word, he reached for his waist and peeled his tight white tee shirt over his head, revealing his chest. He was smooth, hairless, like the sissy, though completely different. His chest was muscular, strong, in every way masculine. He was chiseled, hard, taut.

He looked at his prey looking at him. "She looked at me the same way, you know."

The feminine creature blushed at the thought, blushed imagining the rush his wife must have felt at the site of that chest.

"She wanted to touch it, to kiss it, to nuzzle it. You must understand, don't you? How badly she must have missed touching a man?"

"I..." He felt the shame, the taunt. His wife missed a man because for three years she'd been only with him.

The man walked across the room, his bare feet silent on the wood floor., until he stood right before him. "It's so ironic. I don't know who's look of desire was stronger. Yours or your wife's. Have you ever touched a man before?"

"No," he whispered softly, voice trembling.

"You've fantasized about it."

He could not tear his eyes away from the man's muscular stomach.

"She told. When she was unbuttoning my pants, kissing my stomach, she looked up at me, told me that what you've fantasized about."

His eyes went wide. How could she? How could she betray him like that? His own wife?

The man slowly unbuttoned his jeans, gently opened them so slightly.

"Was she wrong? Should I stop?"

"I..." His eyes had not left the top of the triangle formed by the fabric of the man's jeans. He realized that he wasn't, could not be, wearing underwear.

"Should I stop, sissy?"

"No," he whispered, barely audible.

"She didn't want me to stop, either," the man answered in return. "She wanted it as badly as you do."

"I...don't..." He could not continue his protest, not with the man standing in front of him, carefully lowering his jeans, not with the erect cock jumping in front of his face.

"That's what I though...sissy. You want it just as badly, don't you?"

"Please," he begged, eyes focused on the man's cock.

"She's all over it, you know."

At that, the beautiful bound creature looked up at the naked man standing before him, looked him in the eyes, breath rushing in and out.

"Your wife's scent, her taste, is all over me, all over it."

In a way the words he used were more erotic for their lack of vulgarity, but the meaning was the same. He was telling the pretty boy, telling the bound sissy, telling him, "I fucked your wife."

"That's her gift to you, today, her treat."

He looked back down at the large cock, inches from his face. He could smell her, the unmistakable scent of his wife.

"Open your mouth, sissy, open, taste, taste, taste..."

************************

So, was I successful?