I listen very carefully to each word Brandy says… not easy while also drinking in how bloody good she looks.
I can sense her checking me out, and can see thoughts playing behind her sardonic expression. As I come out of my curtsey I hear her laugh lightly – with me? at me? I’m not sure, and it puts me slightly off balance.
“I prefer that the sissies that come through this door Call me Miss Wiles, or Mistress, but some of them don’t care for the whole sub routine and just like the pretty outfits they get to wear. But I think you’re one of the former, aren’t you? ”
Two things immediately make my pulse rise a little – firstly to be called a ‘sissy’. It feels so nice – to be labelled, reduced, and indeed to have my nature simply called out. Its humiliating, a little… but thats what i like. And to be given permission to call this goddess ‘Mistress’. To know exactly where I stand. I had dreamed of this moment of submission.
‘Oh yes, Mistress’ I reply, and just saying these words makes me feel so excited. ‘Definitely the former. I like to know my place – or at least its a place I have been seeking. The pretty outfits though – defiantly part of the joy for me’
Her poise, hand on hip as she drills into me the obedience she expects makes me melt a little inside. I find myself biting my lip, getting excited to be put in my place.
“I take my job seriously, as serious as I’m sure you took this morning as you picked out that frilly pair of panties I just caught a glimpse of…Let me see them, get the skirt up gurl.”
“of course, Mistress” I reply. I feel again the slight slap of being talked down to – and now objectified. Made to display my intimates for inspection. And… I fucking love it. So far the sing-song voice of Mistress is playing with me. Does she know how I long to be toyed with? For my sissy nature to be the subject of sarcastic appraisal? Has she read that? I lift my skirt as ordered, looking down and blushing as I offer up myself, and my true nature to Mistress.
“I took choosing them very seriously Mistress. I wanted something pretty and frilly for you. Something that leaves nowhere to hide. I tucked myself in, but I’m still ashamed of my cock Mistress. I had thought about a pair of silky French knickers that left more to the imagination. But… here I am “
I dont mention how much i had ached to play with myself, how much it had turned me on to wear these panties today. Or how i had resisted the urge, and deferred my pleasure…
‘Oh god, i hope she thinks i made a nice choice’ I think to myself. And I find my old life – the smart, cpaperbel person, melting away. here I was nothing. My intelligence was not a consideration. It felt liberating to realise that here, as far s I could tell, i was in Mistress eyes fairly worthless… perhaps even less than that?