Tribute to Prissy

Sorry, I know I told you all that this blog was to tell you the story of how I got where I am today. But as I wrote about that night when Sami discovered my little secret, I really started thinking. What amazed me more than anything was how quickly things changed once I was out in the "open," and how completely I caved and became the begging, mincing, clit dripping little sissy bitch I am today.

From the moment Sami walked into our room, my life was changed forever. I had never been really "manly," in our relationship, but I had not been completely submissive either. But that night, caught in panties, stockings and heels, made up like only a sissy slut would be . . . after cumming on her lap and eagerly licking up the mess, I couldn't even look at Sami.

Needless to say, I was not allowed in our bed that night. Sami refused to let me change clothes, and commanded that I sleep on the floor, at the foot of the bed, "as was fitting for such a cum sucking sissy fag . . ." I didn't even have the balls to resist. I just pulled my babydolls down, as if they'd offer much cover or warmth, and curled up into a submissive little ball of sissified satin and lace.

It is about my complete and willful submission that I want to write today. I certainly cannot speak for all sissies, but I do know that many of you share my need to be dominated, even humiliated. Now I for one was not always like that, but some deep seated need was definitely released, starting the day I first pulled a pair of panties up over my adolescent cock. And once my desire to dress and act like a slutty cockwhore was out in the open, well -- that need completely took me over.

So, I want to dedicate this blog post to paying tribute to Prissy's Sissies. There are many wonderful TG artists out there, and many of them produce drawings that are far more realistic than does Prissy. But I do believe that nobody better captures what it's like to be a truly submissive, completely feminized, limp wristed, cocksucking, cum guzzling little sissy: http://www.prissys-sissies.com/Homepage.htm.

I mean, what could be more true about a fucking little sissy bitch (like me) than the way our little clitties are always leaking. Dress us up, let us prance around a little, wave some cock in our faces, and BAM! Our panties are so wet with precum, they look like we've already creamed. Allow us to touch our little sissy sticks, and there will definitely be a mess to clean up -- one we, of course, so love to tend to.

And who among us wouldn't just luv to have such cute little sissy play friends, and a mummy to make sure we play nicely together? Prissy knows how much we desire a strong woman who will keep us on our stocking knees, with our panty covered asses exposed. She understands how we can't control our little clitties, and how, so long as we're kept dressed in pretty femmy clothes, we'll do anything we're told.

Try as you may, but nobody knows us better. We are a bunch of panty-wearing wimps. Of course we luv pink: what other color says, "Tiny dicked fairy" so loud and clear? I probably do spurt further when dressed in pink. Do you? I'd like for Mistress to test me, but since I have no balls, only a dripping wet little clit, I'm afraid to ask. I do know, like Prissy's little sissy here, that I can't help it -- like I said, dress me up and I'm hard; touch my hard clitty and I'm going to cream. I am a pathetic little cunt, and Prissy knows it.

These drawings are about real women who take control of submissive little panty freaks like me -- and you. They know what we want, and Prissy tells the story like no other.

Tell me, have you had sissy cock before? Have you experienced the sheer delight of a silky smooth sissy embrace, rubbing your little clitties together, stockings on stockings? Have you clenched smooth sissy ass in your hands while your painted lips were wrapped around her hard sissy cock? Well, Prissy is the divine Mistress of sissy training, and she understands your desires. She knows that if you haven't sucked sissy cock, it's only because you haven't been properly trained, and she understands that once you've tasted sweet sissy cream, you'll not be able to get enough.

Admit it gurls. We are all just a bunch of cocksucking sissy faggots. We love to be dressed like sluts and treated the same. We know that our place is on our knees, or on our backs, and who among us can resist an assertive woman. Dress us up and command that we suck cock -- well, it's really no command at all. Insist that we not squirt, and we will try, but then we are pathetic little submissive cumsluts . . . we'll cream our panties every time and then relish the punishment and do it again.

Prissy knows what makes us tick, and she captures it perfectly. Oh, to have a strong Mistress with a stable of pretty little sissies, just like us. To be tied up and "forced" to bend over while a gorgeous gurl fucks your tight little sissy pussy . . . you know you'd love it, and you know you wouldn't be able to keep from squirting. That feel of smooth stockings brushing against your own, the scent of perfume, her hands clenching your breasts, her cock filling your sissy cunt -- oh yeah, you're just like me. It wouldn't take long. You be spurting your little load, wouldn't you?

And as much as Prissy knows our training needs, she also understands that, in the end, we're just pretty little cocksucking faggots. Our training has a purpose, doesn't it? And we all know that purpose is to please, not only our Mistress, but also real men. Men with real cocks, not little clits. We've lost all claim to masculinity, and with that went our right to resist. If a man wants his cock sucked, it's our duty to take care of him. If he wants to fuck your sweet ass, then bend over and spread. Prissy knows what we bitches want!

Put a cock anywhere near us, and we've got to have it, "Yes Daddy, may I please suck your big fat cock?" More than one man? Even better . . . "Oh please Daddy, fuck your sissy! Please Master, feed me your hard meat!" It's sissy heaven!

Yes indeed, thank you Prissy. Thank you for helping me to explore what a cock loving, cum guzzling little cunt I really am.

Cummy Kisses

Time for Reflection

I don't think I slept at all that night. I was so very excited, yet I was confused -- twisted in knots actually. Where would all of this go? It's one thing to have secret fantasies, a private fetish, but it was entirely a different matter to share them with another person. Sami may have had an idea before, but she knew for certain now, and I'm sure at that point, knew much more than she had suspected.

It was a time of deep reflection for me. How would I proceed? I thought that maybe I should just try to ignore the whole incident, pretend that it had never happened. Would Sami allow me to do that? Is that what I wanted?

Fuck! What did I want?

What type of relationship would we have? Sami fell in love with a "man," but found herself married to a pantied ass sissy. I had utterly failed as her husband. We never had sex anymore. She had even stopped making sexual advances toward me, undoubtedly because of my many excuses -- the truth almost always being that I had already drained my little sissy clit.

So, what were my options? I went over scenario after scenario, trying to envision how I could piece together some sort of normalcy. On one hand, I could attempt to convince Sami that this was an aberration, an experiment that she happened to walk in on. Of course, even if she bought the premise, there was my little accident . . . but lot's of guys like spanking, don't they? Maybe, but they don't willfully lap up cum!

The gig was up! There was no easy way out. Sami had found out the real me and there was no denying who that was. I could try to convince her otherwise, but she'd just find out at a later date. I knew that I couldn't give up the thrill of femininity. The idea of never again feeling silken stockings on my smooth shaven legs was ridiculous. I thought about the sensuous pull of garter straps across my pantied ass, of luscious red lipstick painted on my puffy lips, of the bright clicking of high heels on pavement, a cool breeze under my skirt, and I had no doubt of their hold on me. I could no more turn my back on my inner sissy than I could just stop breathing.

Who was I kidding? The notion that I might try to curb my growing desire to be a sissy slut was laughable! Where had I taken my life? I couldn't any longer even picture myself as the man in our relationship, in any relationship. All of my dressing and primping, my dildo play, and yes my cumsumption had taken me irreversibly in one direction. Sami was right when she called me a little "Sissy Cunt!" For that's exactly what I had become.

I no longer wanted to fuck Sami, or any other woman for that matter. The disgusting truth is that I wanted to be fucked. I wanted to lay on my back, with my high-heeled feet in the air and have my sissy pussy stretched and pounded until I creamed like a cock craved whore.

I didn't want to pretend anymore. I wanted Sami to see the real me: to allow me to worship her female beauty the way I had always wanted, and to know how deeply I desired to be on my knees sucking hot cum from a hard cock.

I wanted to be treated like the pathetic little submissive bitch I really was.

The reality of my situation came like a slap across my face. I had no control. I was as helpless and dependent in all practical aspects as I was with my sexuality. Sami would do as she wanted, and there was nothing I could do. If she wanted to expose me to my workmates, she could. My family? That too was her call.

I would do exactly as Sami instructed, and just thinking of the possibilities made my little sissy clitty hard and wet.

Kisses

The Edge and Discovery

Looking back, I can still feel the thrill of those many nights indulging myself in feminine sissy bliss. But even then I knew that things couldn't just go on that way. I mean, I guess the question is, how long can somebody go on pretending to be masculine on the outside, when on the inside their femininity is constantly screaming to be released.

I suppose that this need for release is what drives us forward, often stretching the limits and riding on the edge of being discovered. My walks in the hotel hallways and little drives here and there -- was I just expressing my femininity, or was I flirting with the thrill of being caught?

Now, when I get all dolled up, my shapely legs adorned in designer stockings, my fine round ass barely covered with a too short skirt, wearing a clingy blouse, my long brown hair hanging over my shoulders, I look fucking hot! But unfortunately for me, I don't look completely passable as a woman, so I know anytime I venture into public, I'm taking chances -- chances that I find absolutely intoxicating.

But those drives and walks weren't the only way I pushed the envelope, no, not even close. How about leaving just a hint of lingerie showing from under your male attire, have any of you other gurls done that? Or maybe just wearing slightly feminine clothing as if they were male . . . Perhaps painting your nails and making up stories about why they are that way -- the outing with you little niece, you know. I believe that at some level, all sissies have a desire to be caught.

My moment of truth came one Monday in May when Sami was gone to Vegas on business. I had made sure I was clean and smooth that weekend, so that I'd waste no time in the evening. No sooner did I walk in the door, and I dropped my trousers to the floor, stripped off my shoes and shirt and headed to the bedroom to stash the clothes. I slipped my stocking covered feet into my 4 inch Hussie heels, slipped into a simple babydoll nightie and proceded to do my makeup. Once I had my eyes looking large, dark and deep, not being able to wait, I applied my lipstick and tettered over to Sami's dresser to pick a pair of panties.

That's when Sami walked in on me -- while on my knees, rifling through her panty drawer, dressed like a fucking slut in heat. Sami had no patience and basically went off the deep end. She accused me of being a faggot, yelling obscenities and asking if I sucked cock too. She wanted to know if my friends were also queer.

I got up and tried to apologize, to explain, but she was having none of that. I then started to remove my female clothing, but Sami yelled at me, "What the fuck do you think you're doing, bitch?" So I stopped, not knowing where to go next. Sami told me to just sit "my little sissy ass" on the bed and wait. As she was walking out of the room, she let me know that she'd be back to deal with me.

I sat in that room, on the edge of the bed, with my little cock tucked between my legs and my knees held tightly together for what seemed like hours. I shook the entire time, partly in fear, but far more in pure excitement. I didn't know what was going to happen, but I did know that things would never be the same.

I wondered what Sami was doing and became extremely nervous when I heard her on the phone. I have no idea who she was talking to, but when she finally came back, she was much more calm, and at the same time, totally in control.

I was so embarrassed. I can't even put it into words, but at the same time, I was unbelieveably excited. Finally, somebody else knew who I really was!

Sami proceded to lay down the law, all the while riduculing me for the pathetic little sissy I was. I don't think she fully appreciated what was happening, as I became increasingly arroused with each insult, with each time she called me sissy or slut, as she asserted I was a bitch, as she demeaned my cock and called it a clitty. I was completely drunken with submissive sissified lust.

There is no doubt that at that time, I would have done anything Sami told me to do. Caught by my wife , dressed up and made up, and all I could think of was how wildly intoxicating the whole scene was. But just when I thought that things had reached a new all-time erotic high, Sami decided to take it to another level.

"If I ever see you in my panty drawer again without permission," she warned. All I heard was that we had a future, and that single thought caused me to momentarily stop worrying and allow the full experience of what was happening to sink in. Without control, my little clitty immediately hardened and grew, catching Sami a bit by surprise.

"So, my little sissy bitch husband is enjoying his scolding? I should have guess as much!"

Sami then walked over and sat down on the dressing chair. "Get your girly little ass over here," she demanded. "Lay across my lap. You obviously need a little punishment!"

I did as I was instructed and placed myself over Sami. She pulled up my nightie and immediately started cracking her hand on my bare ass. "So, you like being a little bitch!" Crack! "You enjoy dressing like a slut!" Crack! "I'll bet you'd like to be fucked like a whore too -- wouldn't you!" Crack! Crack!

With each stinging strike I became more aroused. I was dizzy with feminized, sissified lust, and as the spanking continued, I totally lost control. I was in heaven, dressed like a slut, my beautiful wife dominating me with one controlling spank after another. I couldn't contain myself. I felt my little clitty twitch and sensed that tightening feeling in my sissy nuts and knew I couldn't stop was about to happen.

I spasmed and began releasing the most mind blowing orgasm of my life. Jet after jet of hot sticking jism errupted from my little sissy cock. I writhed on Sami's lap until she became aware of what had happened, stood up and dropped me to the floor.

"You pathetic little cunt," she exclaimed, looking down at the sissy cream splattered on her stockings.

"You get your little candy ass spanked and you cum all over like a fountain?"

Even in the current setting, I was completely mortified. What must she think? I had gone too far, I thought, and just when I thought it couldn't get more complicated . . .

"Now clean up your fucking mess, BITCH!" Sami yelled loudly, standing with both hands on her hips. Without thinking, I immediately crawled over to her and started licking her leg, lapping up the cum dripping down her thigh.

"Oh my god! You fucking sissy cunt! I didn't say to lick it up!"

I stopped then and there, knowing that I had really fucked up now. Looking up from on my stocking covered knees, my little clitty back between my legs where I liked it, I waited for my wife to continue.

Regaining her composure, she went on, "Well, this explains a lot, little Crissi. I don't know why I'm surprised that you so eagerly eat cum. After all, that's just a part of being a little sissy cunt. Isn't it?"

Shaking her head, she walked away, leaving me alone, with the taste of cum on my lips and my stinging ass a bright crimson red.

"Well, I know how to deal with that too, Sweetie . . . "

And she wasn't lying.

Kisses

What do Sissies Want?

Continued from "Down the Rabbit Hole"

So does it start this way for all sissies? I have no way of knowing. But for me it was a slow decent, one little step after another. Panties led to stockings, stockings to heels, and before long I was shaving and wearing makeup. It's all part of the transformation, the descent into full submissive sissydom.

Being a sissy is all about feeling feminine. The touch of silk on smooth shaven skin, the look of shapely calves extending from high heeled sandals, stocking tops peeking from under a too short skirt -- such femininity is intoxicating!

But being a sissy isn't only about looking the part, it's about feeling the part too. Every time I dress, I want to feel as much like a woman as I can, and that lone desire is what drives me deeper and deeper still into the web of sissified lust.

While it was orginally a thrill to drive in traffic wearing a mini and heels, it was the promise of pure feminine bliss that drove me to complete the illusion. Wearing panties and stockings under my work clothes went from wildly erotic to woefully inadequate in a number of months, if not weeks. Once I had tasted the devine pleasure of complete transformation, I could not again settle for some mere half-step.

I did, of course, continue to wear panties and stockings every day, but I found it almost unbearable to have to wait so long between business trips. Aside from Sami's occasional road trip, it was only when away and in the privacy of a hotel room that I was able to be my sissy self. I can't overstate how preoccupied I was with planning my next trip, or how nervously anxious I became when the time grew near.

Thankfully, my company did require a significant amount of travel, and I volunteered for every trip possible. I didn't care where, and every trip was the same. I would waste no time once in my hotel room, to strip of my male uglies and reveal the satin sissy underneath. I would sometimes shower and shave, sometimes not, depending on how clean and smooth I already was. But one thing was certain, I would spend every evening, my entire trip, completely made up and dressed like a hot sexy slut!

But even those wonderful nights dressed in satin and lace, decked out in heels and skirt were soon not enough. Once again, I needed more. So, with styled hair and slutty makeup, I started to venture outside of my hotel room each time while away. My first excursions were nothing more than a walk in the hallway, or occasionally a jaunt down the elevator. I can't even express the thrill it gave me to be out in "public" as a woman.

Before long, I extended my little outings to include walking to my car, and even brief drives. I still remember the feeling of that first time I ever walked outside. The cool breeze chilling my stocking covered thighs as it blew up under my short skirt, the entire experience enhanced so by the sound of my heels clicking on the hard pavement, it was all I could do to keep from cumming on the spot and soaking my lace bikini panties.

But being the sissy that I am, as time went on, and my desire to feel feminine grew, it eventually came to a point where mere dressing up and prancing around just wasn't enough. My fantasies took me to places I had never before dreamed of, and in a way that makes total sense now, at some point I started to dream of cock. After all, what completes the feminine illusion more? Guys don't pleasure cock, but woman do, and as a sissy who desperately wanted to feel like a woman, I increasingly became aware of my desire to experience sex like a woman, and stroked my little clitty to many fantastic orgasms while dreaming of hard cock.

The rabbit hole took another deep plunge at this point, and my fantasies soon led to my purchase of several latex cocks. I started sucking them at first and found that I became very aroused just by placing my lips around the large bulbous head. I was mesmerized by the sight of my painted nails wrapped around the simulated man flesh and thrilled by seeing my crimson red lipstick prints on the hard shaft.

Of course, I didn't stop with merely sucking these symbols of raw maleness. No, my cocksucking ways soon led to me raping my own ass with dildoes of ever-increasing size. I would dawn my slutiest outfits and bounce up and down on a hard latex cock until my little sissy clitty would squirt my creamy load all over everything.

My favorite activity was to put my high-heeled feet in the air and fuck my sissy pussy with the biggest plastic cock I could find, while stuffing my throat with another. I would instantly become so aroused by the vulnerable feeling of lying on my back with my legs in the air. Looking up at my bouncing heels, I would pound my sissy ass-pussy until my elevated clit would start shooting streams of hot, milky sissy cum into my hungry slut mouth.

Yes, I spent many nights alone in hotel rooms across the U.S., dressed like a complete fucking slut, with a plastic cock in my mouth and another filling my sissy ass.

Each of those nights would end with me crying for my dream intruder to fuck me harder, to make me his bitch, and each make-believe fuck would end with me madly gobbling all of my hot sticky cum I could get.

As you may have guessed, this isn't where it ended. I would soon no longer spend my every feminine experience alone, but then that is another story . . .

Kisses

Down the Rabbit Hole

Continued from "Accepting My Inner Sissy"

The die was cast. Though I did not yet realize it, my journey to complete and total faggot sissydom was well on its way. As I look back, I often think of that first time I shaved my legs as the real beginning, but I guess at some level, I really know that it all began the instant I first pulled a pair of panties over my little cock and felt the arousal of feminine satin.

Those pretty red panties marked the entrance to my personal rabbit hole. It must be the same for all sissies. That first little hint of satin and lace -- your cock starts to harden without being touched. You run your fingers over your hardening manhood, feeling it through the tightly stretched feminine fabric. Your heart starts to beat a little faster. Your breath begins a shallow gasping. Before you know it, without even thinking, you're stroking your fully hard cock. Moments later you've errupted, spewing creamy cum from your little cock like never before!

It's that first orgasm, that first time you allowed yourself to cum while wearing panties -- that's when you dove into the rabbit hole. And once you dive in, you'll never find your way back. Everything from that point on will only take you deeper. You may stop from time to time. You may even feel you've found your way back to being a normal male, but you're just kidding yourself. You're marking time at best. The next time your inner sissy comes out, you'll take off right where you left off. That's just the way it is in a rabbit hole.

Personally, my journey started slowly, but once I discovered Internet shopping and felt the sheer joy of smooth shaven legs, I plunged deep in the hole with wreckless abandon. I did thoroughly enjoy each and every one of those days at work, all dressed in feminine finery under my male work clothes, but the funny thing about rabbit holes is that you always slip deeper and deeper.

It didn't take long before the thrill of wearing panties and stockings hidden under my work suit just wasn't enough. Sami did travel quite a bit, but not nearly often enough to satisfy my desire. I desperately needed to feel more and more feminine, and to do so as frequently as I could.

I began to take every possible opportunity to do the things I couldn't do at work. I would keep strappy "come fuck me" heels in my car, pulling my slacks up to my knees and slipping my stocking covered feet into the delicate leather for my drive to and from work. Soon, I was completely removing my slacks for the drive, sitting in traffic wearing tight clingy miniskirts, my brightly painted toenails showing through the sheer nylon, my silken legs glistening in the morning sun. Those commutes were sublime, and the nervous rush of the big rig truckers who occasionally honked their horns was a thrill!

But as thrilling as it was, feeling completely feminine from only the waist down just wasn't enough. My desire to wear makeup, to style my hair, to paint my nails, to just be able to walk around and see myself primp and prance, was far too strong for half measures. I needed more. My waking hours became a of blur of sissified lust, always focused on the next time I'd be able to doll my face and paint my lips, to adorn my legs with silk stockings and slip my feet into some 4 inch pumps. Only when dressed like a slut, with my cock tucked between my legs did I feel truly alive.

It wasn't long before my lust drove me to make changes that would allow for more. I soon applied for a transfer at work. The new job did pay more, but that wasn't why I applied. The truth is that the position called for a significant amount of travel, and just the thought of all those nights alone in a hotel room made my little dick start oozing precum in my panties.

Business travel is such a blessing for a sissy. Checking into the hotel, knowing that you'll soon be in the private sanctuary of your room. Setting your bags down next to the bed, looking in the mirror and anticipating the hot, sultry female who will soon be looking back.

I can't even begin to count the number of nights I spent in those hotels rooms, the number of times I stripped off my ugly male clothing and transformed myself into an attractive, yet always slightly slutty woman.

Each evening began the same. I would restrain myself from stripping immediately, just long enough to call Sami and let her know that I had arrived safely. For some reason, I couldn't bear to call her once adorned in my frillies. But our conversations were never long. As can be expected, I was always very anixious to get my evening started, and as I would find out later, so was Sami.

Once off the phone, I wasted no time removing my horrid outer clothing. It was always so sensual, dropping my slacks to expose my stocking encased thighs, pulling my shirt up to see the delicate lace panel on my panties. I felt such release as I peeled off my shirt and gently carressed my satin covered chest. I would always rush to put on my heels. Fastening the thin straps around my silken ankles, I could finally relax. Sitting in the hotel room chair, I would pull the band holding my ponytail, shake my hair free, cross my legs and take a deep breath. I was home. I was me.

My evenings would proceed slowly from that point on. For me, heels and stockings are the essence of feeling girly, and once I was there, I wanted to relish every moment. I would stuff my bra and then always take my time doing my makeup, carefully applying foundation, curling my lashes, luciously coating them with wonderful mascara. From time to time, I'd pause to move about the room, to pose and take in my feminine beauty. I do so love the look of a semi-hard cock peeking out between stocking covered legs. Returning to my preparations, curling and teasing my hair into the most provacatively slutty styles I could devise, painting my nails or applying long false ones -- only another sissy can truly understand the sheer delight of feminization.

Made up and feeling sexy, I would complete my transformation with a tight fitting mini, one that would acentuate my firm curvy ass, and a blouse to match. A necklace, earrings, bracelets and rings, a mist of perfume, and I was ready for the crowning glory. To this day, I still wait until last to feel the utter joy of wearing lipstick. For nothing says feminine in quite the way as slick painted lips, and nothing says sissy slut like bright red lipstick.

Needless to say, each and every one of those nights ended with this little sissy shooting her creamy cummy load in a mind boggling frenzy of feminized climax. Each shuttering orgasm fulfilled my desires with a wonderful completion, but even as the spasms subsided and the hot cummy spurts turned to a slow creamy oozing, I knew that I was slipping still further into that rabbit hole.

My later experiences would prove this to be true.

Kisses