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“Did you just call me Mistress, young man?”

She grinned, like this was a huge joke.

I could only nod; shyly looking down, to avoid her penetrating stare. Then she said, in a more serious tone of voice:

“Yes. I’ll see you again; but there’s a condition.”

My heart leapt.

“A condition? ” I asked, hardly daring to believe what I’d just heard. “Anything! Anything at all.”

Mistress had left me in the care of her bull Julian for the day, while she went up to town for a girls only outing with a raucous group of female friends.

As soon as he had me to himself, Julian began telling me how pretty I was and making suggestions to me about what he wanted to do while we were on our own, sliding his hand under my petticoats, fondling my bottom through the silky fabric of my panties and so on.

I started getting quite hot under the collar. I didn’t mean to be unfaithful to Mistress, but pretty soon, I found myself making excuses in my head, as to why it would be better to let him have his way with me.

There’s a limit to how far I can stray, because Mistress keeps me locked in chastity. But of course, there are other avenues…..

Julian was very keen and wouldn’t take no for an answer. He said he knew all about my cage and it made no difference to him because all he was interested in was my mouth and my bottom, to which he helped himself liberally for the next few hours, after which I was quite sore ‘down there’.

Before leaving, he started talking about this friend of his he wanted to introduce me to and he asked me if I’d ever been ‘spit roasted’. I had no idea what he was talking about, so he had to explain it to me. I must admit that hearing about it made me tingle all over.

After he left, I felt guilty about what we’d been doing. I’d betrayed my Mistress. But the fact is, I’d had a wonderful time.

I decided I’d better make a clean breast of what I’d been up to, when Mistress got back, and confess all. But I was terribly worried about how she would react to my news. Would she throw me out? I couldn’t bear that, but I couldn’t contemplate living a lie, especially as Julian would be around a lot, being her bull and so on.

I tried to find the words to confess. I must have looked terribly guilty, because she started interrogating me:

“What on earth have you done, Sissy?” She demanded, looking like she was fearing the worst, whatever that might be.

When I eventually got the words out, she laughed her head off.

“Is that all, Sissy?” She asked. “I’m so relieved! I thought you must have done something bad!”

Of course, as he belongs to her, in the most literal sense, she can use him for whatever she wants. So, if she wants a tongue between her thighs for a happy hour or two, she doesn’t have to go through the tiresome business of searching for a suitable male and maintaining a relationship with him, with all the hassle that goes with having to deal with some bloke who wants to be consulted about everything & to have his ego stroked, etc.

"I told you not to anger me with your backside so sore from last night's spanking. But you just couldn't help yourself, could you?"

Please! I didn't mean anything by it! Please don't spank me again! You can't!

"I can and I'm about to. If you're lucky, this will be shorter, since I'll bet you'll cry right away!"

Not bare! I'm so SORE!

"Twenty extra before we start. You know better!

"We can skip the 'warm-up'!"

Oh, the things one finds on Pinterest… adding a few here

Submission is always lovely

The details of his forfeit, which he hadn’t bothered to read properly before signing it, were that, if he did indeed lose the contest, he would be taken to the lounge bar of the Black Horse, where drinks would be continue to be served as normal to any members of the public who happened to drop in and where he would have to submit to being stripped naked, before being publicly whipped by the women he’d been competing against.

There can be compensations for him, however. There are ways a sissy former husband can become the centre of attention, which his Mistress may actively encourage, or even demand of him.

But he’s got to allow her to dress him up to look the part and to coach him in how to behave when a Real Man comes to call.

Something he’s always been curious about, is whether, dolled up to the nines with smooth, shaved legs, showing off his neat little bum in frilly knickers and a dress as short as the one in the picture, he could make himself irresistibly attractive to a Real Man, especially if he curtseys properly, flutters his false eyelashes and wiggles his bottom at him.