No no no no, that’s crazy. My roomie is gone and won’t be back from her vacation with her boyfriend for another week. There’s no reason why I still have to follow ALL of her rules. I’m home alone, no one will know if I diddle myself without first wiggling my way into a tight, flirty, pair of panties, feeling the feminine embrace of the matching bralette, and then going through the whole ultra girly production of putting on my makeup.
I KNOW this is true. I know I can reach my hand down into my boxers, gently grab my throbbing little pee pee, and start rubbing. It’s just that, the thought of being an obedient, pretty, prissy, sissy, feels SO good. Even with my roomie literally thousands of miles away, her rules, her presence, so crystal clear, commanding me to stop. My breath quickens as I feel the memory of her words filling me with an anxious erotic energy. I want to disobey and reclaim some shreds of my manhood and independence, but the intoxicating and seductive power of being too weak, effeminate, and submissive to overcome the IMAGINED disapproval of my roomie proves all too alluring.
I feel so deliciously feeble and puny as I get up and start stripping out of my clothes. Once naked, my petite and slender body looks extra girly since I’m still completely smooth from when my roomie insisted that I get a full body waxing before our last cuddle party. I open, what I can only call my panty drawer, and am momentarily mesmerized by the sheer quantity of flirty feminine lingerie that is adoringly folded and organized within. How did this ever get so out of hand? When did being a sissy start taking up this much space in my life?
As I start perusing my delicates for what I’m going to be shimmying my way into, it is fairly obvious that there is more than enough panties, bralettes, and nighties in this drawer that I could spend every moment wrapped up in my very girly lingerie. All it would take is some simple instructions from my roomie and I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from taking the next step into my sissy fantasy. With her laying down the law, I’ve already gone from my secret stash of a few pairs of panties that I furtively tugged my little peen in when I had the nerve, energy, and time to indulge my kink, to now having this full collection that is mandatory if I want to experience any sexual pleasure. With the relentless way my roomie is methodical conditioning me, I’m sure that I’m close to not being able to finish without first feeling encapsulated by the feminine caress of my girly delicates.
My heart flutters when I see it, a pink, mesh, flutter panty and the matching halter bralette. The little bows, the touch of lace, the wispy feel of the lingerie against my skin has my little clitty absolutely throbbing in my panties. But there’s still more to do, I have to put on my makeup before I’m allowed to play with my pantied weeny peeny. Having to stand before a mirror in my sheer pink lingerie and really focus on making myself even more effeminate is devastating in how arousing it is for me. Seeing myself pucker my lips so I can apply my pink lip gloss makes it unbelievably obvious why my roomie was able to so easily suss out my pansy perversions and then dominate me into being her personal, pretty, beta, sissy.
Now that my reflection is that of pretty femboy in full make up and flirty lingerie, I know that I wouldn’t be breaking any rules if I reached down and started to rub the little bulge in the front of my panties. It’s just that, my roomie did say that she would prefer if I did it in a full girly outfit. The draw of further submission and emasculation proves to be too strong as I go to my closet to find something to wear. Even with my roomie being out of the country and probably in the embrace of her bigger stronger boyfriend, I still can’t stop myself from doing whatever I can to only play within her preferences. I’ll do it even if she’ll probably never know about it and I’ll accept the consequences that each time I feminize and pleasure myself I’m closing the door a little bit more on ever being anything more than being a pussy free panty princess.
I slip into my girly, revealingly short, virginally white, romper, and I wonder how much longer I can extend this tantalizing foreplay with myself. As I zip myself up in the back and tie pretty bows with the pink ribbon shoulder straps, I feel so deliciously encased in submissive femininity that I start to play with idea of doing all my household chores before I start my rubbing. Seeing how long and slender my legs look once as I have my white heels with pink bows on and how there’s just a hint of my bottom booty cheeks peeking out through the pleated flowy bottom of my romper, I am now also considering canceling my evening plans with my friends so I can feel the sweetness of self denial until I wake up tomorrow in the silky embrace of one of my girly nighties. With the tingling arousal of each self submission filling me, I am prancing about my empty apartment, dressed like a twinky femboy, doing my chores while wiggling my plump little booty to the girly pop music that is blaring. The whole scene has my little peen absolutely throbbing in my panties, but I can’t touch it because that seductive, feminine, internal, sissy voice that my roomie had nurtured has become so strong that it is drowning out everything else.
I can’t stop the voice from compelling me to my roomie’s bedroom, to the little box that sits in her top left drawer, to the tiny pink chastity cage whose keys I packed up for my roomie alongside her bikinis, lingerie, and sexy outfits when she left for her vacation. I know if I put the cage on, the voice inside my head will only grow stronger and louder with all that pent up erotic energy surging through my body and muddling my will power and thought process. I won’t be able to resist staying in my lingerie and girly clothes for the whole week that my roomie is gone, and even if she unlocks me when she gets back, there is no guarantee that I’ll ever be able to quiet down the sexy, sultry, seductive, voice and retake control of my life. I’m trembling and short of breath from the pleasure and the fear of the decision before me. It is the promise of the consequences that has me icing my little weeny peeny down, putting the cage on, and ultimately closing the lock on my peen while simultaneously opening myself to the reality that even when I’m all by myself, I am too girly and soft to be anything more than a denied, pussy free, beta, sissy.
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