It has a lifestyle than most men can only dream of!
It is a prominent surgeon - one if the best in its field.
It has a large home in the suburbs with an attractive wife.
But, it has always had this secret fascination with women’s clothing - a little diversion that it has always felt it could manage and keep secret. Lately though those urges have been becoming more powerful and more perverse.
Its fantasies have evolved to a point of wearing the most ridiculously extreme sissy clothing; of being bound or chained - helpless and vulnerable; of being used and abused by dominant men and women; of being see by others in all its pathetic shame.
It would regularly attend, and be asked to be a keynote speaker at medical conferences
Thes conferences offered the opportunity to dress up in the privacy of its hotel room, an occasionally, make contact online with dominant men and women for some anonymousb”role-play” in its hotel room.
The night before a conference at which the sissy is presenting the next morning it is joined in its hotel room by a dominant man it has met online.
He makes it apply lots of very girlie make-up; dress up in white stockings, sparkly stilettos, frilly white panties, white ruffled petticoats and the most ridiculously short and frilly yellow sissy imaginable.
He then forces its arm into a white leather armbinder, behind its back and padlocks it shut.
For the next hour the sissy is made to mince humiliatingly and limp-wristedly before him.
He makes it parade effeminately before the hotel window, with the curtains open.
Then it is instructed to kneel on its stockinged knees before him as he sits in an armchair, and explain to him how it started dressing, what it feels like when it is dressed, what other humiliating things it has done.
It is burning up with shame as it does so and is forced to say:
“I am a limp-wristed little pantywaist”
“I am a pathetic, emasculated little faggot”
It feels so ashamed yet so aroused by this humiliation.
He then stands up, unzips hips trousers and forces his manhood between its painted lips as he holds is head in place whilst he thrusts himself back and forward very roughly until the sissy is almost choking on the manly juices which are spurting into its mouth more quickly than it can swallow.
With the overflow of juices still dribbling down its chin, he places a ball gag from behind and locks it in place with a padlock.
Its ordeal is not yet over. He forces it to kneel helplessly and vulnerably in the middle of the room as he calls room service and orders himself some drinks and refreshments.
The sissy is kneeling, trembling humiliation, in the middle of the room in as the young man from room-service us invited to bring the trolley into the room, and is instructed to “just leave it next to the faggot”.
This has already gone further than the sissy anticipated.
After the man has finished his martini and some canapés he drags the sissy over to the bed, where he forces it, facedown.
He the removes his trousers, pulls down the sissy’s lacy panties and forces his throbbing manhood between its cheeks
This wasn’t part of the deal, but the sissy’s protests are muffled by its ball gag and it is helpless with its arms bound behind it.
It begins to cry uncontrollably whilst also moaning pathetically as, for the next 25 minutes he violently thrusts his manhood deep inside it, until it can feel his warm juices filling up inside it.
It was not pleasant. It was exceptionally painful. The sissy has never felt so degraded as it lies there limp and wasted, and he pulls his trousers back up, dies up his fly and his belt.
As the sissy is still lying there almost in a trance as it comprehends what has just happened to it and the pretensions of manhood that have been effectively pumped out it forever, he goes to its wardrobe and places all its man clothes into its suitcase and changes the combination on the lock.
The sissy is looking on helpless and exasperatedly.
As he walks towards the door he advises the sissy that he will leave the keys to the padlocks on its armbinder and gag and the new combination to the lock on its suitcase at reception.
As he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him, leaving the sissy alone and helpless, it starts to sink in that this was not just some cruel taunt as part of a game.
For 5 minutes, a rational, intelligent ‘man’ lies helpless, emasculated gagged and bound on a hotel bed, dressed in the most humiliatingly effeminate sissy dress imaginable, first in a old sweatband then a delirious panic, realizing that the only way it is going be able to deliver its presentation at 9’am is to somehow get itself town to reception in this totally degrading and humiliating state.
After some 20 minutes of further contemplation and summoning of courage, it wriggles its way to its feel and names its way to the door. Opening it with its arms bound in a sheath behind its back, takes a few minutes.
It minces down the long hotel corridor to the lift-well, hoping not to encounter anyone. As it steps onto the marble floor of area around the elevators it hears its stilettos clicking very loudly. It realises that when it reaches the lobby, it is not only going to stand out visually, but the click of its mincing heels is going attract aural attention as well.
The elevator ride to reception, from the 12th floor seems like like an eternity, as it views itself in its pathetic, ultra-humiliating, helpless state in the mirror, hoping that no one will get in on the way down. It wonders what a normal person would make of this lamentable, ridiculous looking pervert.
The elevator stops on the fourth floor. It begins to feel highly nauseous -,and wit some justification as the moderator of tomorrow’s morning session, and his wife, enter the elevator.
The look quite shocked at first and then pretend not to notice.
The sissy’s face is a burning red as it looks to the floor, hoping not to be recognised.
As the elevator doer opens the sissy allows the moderator and his wife to exit first into the lobby.
The lobby appears crowded with people, many from the conference, coming back from dinner.
As it commences its walk of shame across the sprawling lobby, with its shiny marble floor, to the reception desk it becomes aware of everyone stopping their conversations as the view the bizarre, emasculated and bound pervert mincing its way for 20 metres across the lobby towards the reception desk.
It is burning with shame, shaking uncontrollably, hoping not to collapse onto the floor in a pitiful mess, as it takes one mincing step before the other.
The air brushing against its stockinged legs, the mincing steps forced by its loudly clicking heels, the helplessness of its bound arms, the tightness of its ball gag, as it drools over the dried cum on its chin - it all combines into an unimaginable sensory overload.
Eventually it arrives at the reception desk where the young lady that checked it in earlier that day has, together with her colleagues, observed his walk of shame from the elevator.
She attempts to keep a straight, professional face, as she says:
“Ah, Doctor Richards, a gentleman left an envelope for you a half an hour ago with dome keys and a note in it.
“Um, do you need some help, Sir?”
She knows the answer, of course, as she removes the padlock keys from the envelope and invites him to turn around as she firstly unlocks and then unzips the arm binder, and the unlocks the gag, whilst the sissy is all the while facing all the stunned onlookers in the lobby.
When she is finished she hands the keys and the envelope containing the lock codes to the suitcase to the trembling, humiliated sissy.
The sissy quietly, but hesitantly thanks her before repeating its walk of shame across the Lobby, this time with the gag and armbinder removed.
By the time it returns to its room it collapses onto the bed in a totally distressed state. It is the it realises that it had actually climaxed in its panties whilst all this was happening.
It realises it is not going to get much meaningful sleep tonight and knows it will not be in any state to deliver its presentation in the morning. Nor is it going to take the chance that any of the audience recognise their keynote speaker as the distressed, emasculated pantywaist from the lobby the night before.
Still in its high heels, sissy dress, and stockings, its makeup smudged by years, drool and the dried residue of a mans sexual fluids, it summons one last effort to call the moderator of the conference and explain that it is feeling extremely unwell, and will have to pass on its notes for someone else to deliver its presentation on its behalf.
“I understand, Dr Richards. I could see in the elevator that you were not looking to well.”
Upon hearing this, the sissy passes out, drops the phone receiver, and collapses on the floor an emasculated, sissified mess that has in one night surrendered an pretensions to masculinity and come face to face with its personal and professional destruction.
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