She kneels on the carpet, stockings tugged tight, lipstick smudged from nervously biting her lower lip. She tries to keep her eyes down, but she can’t help glancing up at me as I circle her, the leash in my hand brushing against her bare shoulder.
Admit it, sissy gurl, I say, voice soft but sharp enough to make her shiver. “You love the idea, don’t you? Being rented out. Passed around. Doing all the filthy things I promised you’d do.
She opens her mouth to protest, but the words catch in her throat when I tug the leash tighter. Her thighs press together, but we both know it’s too late to pretend.
You want it, I whisper, leaning down so close she can feel my breath against her ear. You want to be my good little thing to fulfill your role as a gurl. To kneel for whoever I say. To open your mouth and spread your legs because you know it’s what you’re for.
She whimpers, the sound halfway between fear and aching need, and I smile. She doesn’t have to say it out loud her flushed cheeks, her trembling body, the way she presses her hips into the carpet, all of it confesses for her. And soon, when I lead her to the door, when the knock comes and she sees who’s waiting, she’ll know there’s no going back. Because this is what she wanted all along and now she’s going to prove it.
Will you be next sissy gurl?
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