I simply smile at him, snuggled up close, as he talks about how I pleased him, that the tattoos will be perfect, and that he is very proud of me. Good, I think he doesn’t suspect anything… I just have to keep playing the good girl, and hope he doesn’t use his mind tricks on me again… or that if he uses them, I can resist them. That is a long shot, but it is all I have… he mentions how we should celebrate, and I smile, opening my mouth to sa-
The staircase is in front of me. Behind me, the first room of my tower, my safe space. With a relaxed sigh, I start stepping on the stone steps upwards, counting each of them. One. Two. Three. Four. I am naked, my feminine flesh jiggling with every step, climbing slowly and methodically, feeling oh so relaxed and open with every step. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. I move with dainty steps, my feet effortlessly on tip toes, without even thinking about it. Thirtytwo. Thirtythree. Thirtyfour. I sway from side to side with every step, going higher and higher, but also deeper and deeper with each number. Finally, I land on the next floor, another sturdy oak door in front of me.
A tingle of relaxation washes over my body, and shortly after the door opens. I step inside the safe room, smiling warmly at its coziness, more rustic than the last bedroom, but still oh so warm and welcoming. I decide it’s still very luxurious for a sissy like me.
I turn to the mirror, naturally and automatically, it just happens. And in the mirror, behind my beautiful body, I see Mister Simon, placing his hands on my shoulder. I can feel them… they feel so comforting and protective. He is my protector, my Keyholder, the real man I trust and want to serve. It’s only right that he is here with me.
This and many other thoughts pop in my mind, blossoming like beautiful flowers, completely on their own, as I just smile in the mirror, looking at my body and Mister Simon above me, accepting all these new thoughts as they settle deep into my mental landscape, beautiful flowers taking deep, strong, unyielding root.
I’m not really a woman, I’m a beautiful young sissy. Sissies are less than real men, and much, much less than real women. Real men and women are better than sissies. And that means they are better than me. real men and women have rights, sissies just have privileges and responsibilities. If my keyholder says it, it must be true. Sissies need to serve their betters, and they especially need to please their betters. And anybody but another sissy is their better. that’s right.
I shudder lightly watching my reflection change and yet stay the same. Suddenly, I am no longer looking at a beautiful woman, I am looking at an identical, equally as beautiful, sissy. But there was a definite change. Where I was looking at a person earlier, now what stares back at me, is a toy. A pet. A lesser creature, delightful and pretty and beautiful and girly, sure, but a mere toy nonetheless. I can see it so clearly… and of course this is a mirror, and of course that means that is me, and I have always been that and always will be, always meant to be the plaything of my betters.
Of course, I will need to teach this to the part of me that still thinks she’s Michael. Of course I will. Under my tutelage, she will begin feeling not a desire, a need to please more dominant individuals. She will gain no lasting pleasure from it, because the need will always be there; no matter what she’s recently done for a superior, the worry that she has done something wrong, or not done enough to please, or should be doing something right now to please, will always be there. This need will begin subtly, but will grow stronger and stronger as time passes, until it becomes an obsession. And her need will continue to grow, until Mister Simon tells me, not her, that her need is strong enough. Of course it will. Because I am the smart one. I’m the one who understands my true nature and who will protect me.
I smile in the mirror, accepting the flow of new thoughts without any trace of resistance, immediately recognizing them as my own thoughts. Similarly, words bubble to my lips, and I submissively part them, allowing the sounds to leave my plump cocksuckers, listening to the melodious, sensual, high pitched voice stating the undisputable facts.
In the ‘real world’, my relaxed, seemingly sleeping body repeats them out loud as well, right after Mister Simon does, for him to hear.
“I am a sissy. I’ve always been a sissy.”
“Sissies need to please their betters.”
“I am a sissy. I need to please my betters.”
“I want to please my betters. I want to please Mister Simon.”
“Real men and real women are always better than me.”
“I am a sissy plaything.”
“Mister Simon is my protector. He keeps me safe.”
“Failing to please is horrifying. I am frightened of failing to please.”
“Failing to please Mister Simon is the most terrible thing I can think of.”
My body sits up at Mister Simon’s commands, like I was just a few minutes earlier. In the tower, I turn from the mirror, feeling Mister Simon’s strong, warm hands on my shoulders guiding me. We move towards the door, ready to leave… five steps from the door… four… three… two… one… the door opens…
-mile, opening my mouth to say:
“I would love to celebrate with you, Mister Simon!”
He tells me he knows how we can do just that, and asks me to stand up. I promptly hop to my high heeled feet, exposed breasts jiggling with the motion right in front of his face as he sits back down, he orders me to give him a blowjob. Well, he phrases it like a request… but obviously, I know I am not allowed to say no. Especially now, I need to make him think that I am completely under his thumb and that I would love to please him.
“Certainly, Sir! What a wonderful idea!”
I giggle, sinking to my knees between his legs promptly as he unveils his massive, throbbing cock… a member that I have had numerous occasions to get well acquainted with, and I lose no time, wrapping my delicate hands around its base, starting with a loving kiss on its tip. I have learned in my years here to just abandon myself to the delightful tingle of my lips giving a blowjobs brings, to forget how humiliating and shameful the act I am so frequently forced to do is. My wet tongue swirls around the throbbing mushroom head even as my hands start to delicately rub up and down the massive length of the shaft, looking up to him with my wide emerald eyes, batting my eyelashes cutely. If I want him to not suspect a thing, I need to please him. Only that way I can ensure he trusts me, enough to send me out… that’s it. I try to calm mysefl down, I can already feel a bit of anxiousness at the idea of not pleasing him well enough and him figuring out that I am still resisting… I redouble my efforts, showing off all my considerable skills. I sink with a wanton moan down the whole length of his cock, accepting it all effortlessly in my welcoming throat, no gag reflex at all. Then I let it lide out, kiss and suck its whole shaft while going down, and worshipping his balls. Then again, all the way down, my hands fondling his balls as my nose touches his stomach and my chin his scrotum. I extend my tongue hunder his shaft, opening my mouth wider, reaching forward to lap at his cum-filled testicles… and I go even one step beyond, straining my eyes to look up at him, I wink, and with my right hand I swich from his balls… to my neck… running my hand up and down my neck, and I let him feel it, stroking his magnificent shaft THROUGH my neck! I hope that pleases him… All I can do for now is continue to use all the tricks in my (pretty big) book, giving him as much pleasure and satisfaction as possible…
My name is Michelle Bubbles and I do what I am told
"How may I serve you today, Master? Send me a message with your orders and I will obey!"