SISSY CUCKOLD HOUSECLEANER! By THRONE (40 pages) (Patreon)

SISSY CUCKOLD HOUSECLEANER!

By THRONE

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No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to ​Devinwhitegurl@gmail.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

***DEVIN DICKIE NOTE***

All characters are OVER 18 years of AGE! This is a bullying fantasy and not real.  The acts in the following written work are only consensual  sexual choices and fantasy humiliation scenarios.

Bullying is NOT OKAY and If you or someone you know is being bullied, please alert the authorities.

SISSY CUCKOLD HOUSECLEANER!

By THRONE

SISSY CUCKOLD HOUSECLEANER by Throne

When I first met my wife-to-be, Katrina, I was so happy.  She was short like me.  My limited stature had prevented me from dating a lot of taller girls.  Further, she didn't mind that I'm shy and retiring.  Her outgoing personality balanced us out as a couple.  She was quite perceptive and sometimes seemed to know what I was thinking.  After we'd been going out for three months, and were over the hurdle of sleeping together, something changed.  I was relieved that she hadn't rejected me for my small penis.  But I still had another hidden part of myself, not physical but psychological, that I thought she wasn't aware of.

We were at my modest house when she decided, on the spur of the moment it seemed, that she wanted Chinese take-out food.  Kat -- that's what she liked to be called -- found the menu of a place she favored, on my computer.  We placed our order online, with her basically choosing for both of us, assuring me that I'd like her selections.  So I went off to pick up the meal and she stayed there, saying she wanted to compare their menu to that of another restaurant.

When I got back, she gave me a big hug.  Then we sat down to a delicious meal.  True to her prediction, I enjoyed everything she had picked for me.  Then we cuddled in front of the TV for a while.  That was a treat, with her sitting up and me with my head in her lap, a position we had fallen into assuming frequently.  She lightly stroked my short auburn hair and playfully tickled my ears.  After the show we had been watching ended, she muted the sound.

"Terry," she said softly, "we need to talk."

I didn't like the serious sound of that.  Had our relationship hit some emotional shoal of which I wasn't aware?  I said, "Sure, Kat.  What is it?"

When I started to sit up, she gently restrained me with a hand on my chest.  "After you left, I happened to hit the Favorites icon on your computer.  I couldn't help but notice that many of the pages you had listed were sexy ones."  She gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.  "And with all the personal grooming products you use, as well as your attention to detail in clothes, and the colorful jockey shorts you favor, plus how knowledgably you comment on my fashion choices, I've often wondered about your sexuality.  If there might be another dimension to it.  When I saw those sites that are Favorites, ones like Male Maids and Sissy Husbands, my suspicions were confirmed.  At least, I think they were.  I'm not upset, Terry, but I do want to know you fully if we're going to stay together."

Words wouldn't come to me.  I made a small throat-clearing sound.  She was right about all those items she had noticed.  I couldn't deny that I visited those pages, and similar ones that she'd seen the names of.  At least she sounded calm about it all.

Finally, I was able to say, "Well, I do have sort of a fantasy of, um, getting in touch with my feminine side.  You know?"

"Do you mean seeing yourself in girly clothes?  That sort of thing?"

"Kind of."

"And having a woman there, who makes you dress that way?"

"Sometimes."

"So, I'm guessing you have a stash of pretty clothes.  Maybe a wig.  Or two.  And some cosmetics."

"Listen," I said, "if those things bother you..."

Kat pressed a fingertip to my lips.  "I'm not bothered at all.  Quite the opposite.  Perhaps I could be the lady who tells you what to do, and helps you do it."  She ran her finger over my eyebrows, one and then the other.  "What I need from you is total honestly.  And I'd love to see anything special you have hidden in your closet or wherever."  When I didn't respond, she said, "How about if we go to your bedroom to finish this chat?"

I was able to tell her, "Yes."

We got up and she took my hand, leading me there.  I opened the top drawer of my dresser and took out a single pair of panties.  Kat removed them from my hand and ran them lightly over the side of my face.  They were skimpy and satiny and sent a current of erotic energy through me.

She said, "Now how about if we get you naked and I stay dressed?  Hmm?  I'd like being able to tell you what to do."

My throat constricted.  What was happening was scary and exciting at the same time.  She cupped my chin in her palm and tilted my face up, so she could place a feathery kiss on my lips.  That made me feel less vulnerable.  I nodded.  Kat began to unbutton my shirt.  Basically, she undressed me, though I did remove my own shoes and get out of my pants after she undid them.  I stood there in one of those pairs of shorts she had mentioned.  This one was pale blue and snug, verifying what she'd said about my taste in underwear.  She put her hand on my crotch and gave a slight squeeze.  I moaned and reflexively jerked my hips.  That made her chuckle.  She hooked two fingers in the waistband and slowly sank into a crouch.  From that position it was easy for her to work my last bit of clothing down my slender legs.  I stepped out of them and she tossed them into the corner.  A shudder of anticipation ran through me.  Kat stood again.  She took me into her arms and held me close.  I closed my eyes and parted my lips.  This time, when she kissed me, it was with smoldering passion.  Her tongue invaded my mouth and drove me to distraction as it slid over my own.  That got me hard and she rubbed herself aggressively against my erection.

When she released me and stepped back, her cheeks were suffused with pink.  The panties were still in her hand.  She gave them back to me and said I should put them on.  I sat on the edge of the bed, my head spinning as if I might swoon, and drew them up my legs.  When I stood, she reached into the front of the panties to tuck my stiff member down and back.  That was a bit uncomfortable, but I certainly wasn't about to complain.  She got her hands on my chest and toyed with my nipples.  I'm extremely sensitive there, and her efforts soon had me mewling and writhing.

"Now, Terry," she said seductively, "let's get you dressed the rest of the way."

I showed her more of my fashion stash.  She sorted through and selected a short top with spaghetti straps, and a teeny skirt.  At her instruction, I put them on slowly.  After I was dressed, she made me pivot at half-speed.  My erection still hadn't gone down.

"Let's sit on the bed and get a few details worked out," she suggested.  We got onto the mattress, cross-legged, facing each other.  "First of all, about sex.  Let's be honest.  Your dick is small, and that's putting it generously.  I like the intimacy of sex with you, but the payoff just isn't there.  On the other hand, when you get your face between my legs and use your mouth, it's heavenly.  So, until further notice, the when-and-if of that to be decided by me alone, we're going to limit you to just eating my pussy.  Agreed?"

"I... yes."

"And I saw that at least two of those pages you like have to do with women mocking men for their, shall we say, limited endowments.  Therefore, I'm going to remind you frequently that you have a puny penis, and that it's the reason I'm denying you intercourse.  All right?"

I took a deep breath.  "Okay."

"Good.  It's convenient that your silly little version of a real cock fits so well into those pretty panties you're wearing, isn't it, Terry?"

"It is."

"Since you don't look much like a Terrance now, I think I'll call you... Therese."  She leaned toward me, took my head between her hands, and nibbled on my ear.  "Whether you like it or not."

She wasn't asking.  She was telling me.  I automatically slipped into the wispy voice I use when I dress, and sometimes talk to my reflection in the mirror.  "I think you should."  My relief and gratitude were winning out over my tension and fear.  "After all, you're in charge."

"I know I am, Therese.  And all this talk has gotten me hot.  Treating you like the sissy you are makes me want some action."  She got off the bed and undressed from the waist down, with hasty efficiency.  Standing there, hands on hips, feet apart, still with her upper half dressed, she radiated natural dominance.  It was like I was a character in one of those stories I so enjoyed reading online.  "Get down on the foot of the bed, so I can stretch out... and you can serve me."

Once she was in position, I kissed my way up her shapely legs, to the juncture of her firm thighs.  My mouth went to its familiar target, her lightly furred mound, and my tongue ran up and down the pinkness at its center.  The flavor of her femininity intoxicated me.  Being dressed as I was multiplied the effect several times over.   I fastened my mouth to her pussy and used all the techniques I knew worked best.  She cautioned me to slow down, which I did with an effort.  I gave Kat several orgasms.  In the past she had allowed herself one, when I gave her oral as part of our foreplay.  Now she kept me down there, in my brief top, tiny skirt, and panties, until she was well sated.

"That was good," she sighed.  "Now get alongside me and snuggle up."

I did, with my face at her chest level, very much the submissive partner.  She murmured to me while she recovered from going over the top more than once.

I whispered, "Thank you, Kat."

"You're welcome, Therese.  I don't have any obligation to pay you back.  From here on, I'm allowed to be as selfish as I please, which will be fun.  But I've decided to be magnanimous this time.  However, you have to make a choice between two options.  One is that you're allowed to put just the tip of your pathetic little dick against my moist warm pussy, and I'll make sure you get off without penetration.  You know that would feel wonderful.  Except that, after you make a mess down there, you'll have to go back down and clean it up... with your mouth.  If you'd rather avoid that emasculating duty, you can jerk yourself off, while you're up on your haunches, with me watching and giving you instructions.  You'll finish into your hand and have to lap up your cream.  I'll give you some time to think about it.  While you're figuring out which way you want to go, slide back down there and get your lips on my twat.  Give it some butterfly kisses.  Keep me in the mood.  I'll tell you when I'm ready for your answer."

I was torn.  Either way would be the fulfillment of a fantasy.  However, that step wasn't one I necessarily wanted to take.  Having to slurp up my own spunk might not be as exciting in reality as in my imagination.  Still, part of me wanted to try it.  And no matter which I decided on, that was included.  Because I wanted more close contact with Kat, I went with the non-penetrative intercourse, which I'll call it for lack of a better name.  She asked for my decision and I told her.  Kat chuckled.

"Then get where you need to be, stud.  Push those panties down and out of the way.  Let me feel the end of that muscle-of-love, touching my special spot."

Her mildly mocking tone aroused me.  I was still half erect from earlier.  When my body met hers, it didn't take long for me to get the rest of the way stiff.  Having only the tip touching her slippery labia was strangely exciting.  The idea of being allowed to go no further than she chose played into my submissiveness.  Kat told me to remain still.  She began to rock and roll her hips.  The stimulation was limited enough that it made me crazy for more.

"What's the matter, Therese?" she cooed with feigned concern.  "Aren't you allowed to put your itty-bitty inside?  Aww, poor baby.  But we have to follow the rules, don't we?  Sissies with dinky dicks aren't allowed past the security checkpoint."  She assumed a gruff voice to say, "Sorry, panty-boy.  No tools under six inches allowed.  Especially not when they're way under that limit."

Damn, but she was getting me overheated.  Her pelvis was in constant motion.  She took me to the brink and kept me there, but never gave enough to take me the rest of the way.  I don't know how long she continued that sweet torment.  I couldn't fathom how she intended to take me across the finish line.  Her solution was simplicity itself.  With a giggle, she slid her hands under my loose top and got her thumbs and forefingers on my nipples.  As she rolled those engorged points, my voice rose and fell, not quite forming words.  Kat used more pressure and then less.  She still managed to have me on the precipice, without letting me topple into the valley of ecstasy.  At last, she made a kissing sound and kept her teasing at its most powerful, no longer varying that with a lighter touch.  It was what I needed.  Totally at the mercy of her whims, I was finally made to empty my balls.  I groaned happily as several blasts were fired from my undersized organ.  She eased up on her finger-games, bringing me down from the heights.

Once I was relaxed, she pressed lightly against my shoulders.  "Somebody made a mess and now they have to clean it up.  Down you go, Therese.  You're so girly, I'm going to feel like I have a lesbian lover eating me."

Kat sure knew how to play with my head.  I squirmed back to pussycat-junction and got my first taste of semen.  It was salty, with a touch of mineral flavor.  I dutifully scooped up most of it and gagged it down, shivering as I did it.  Then I had the detail work to do.  Kat purred contentedly as I probed to retrieve any that had gone deeper.  She kept me at it until she got turned on again and had one more, less eruptive climax.  That left her totally relaxed and sleepy.  I understood my new status enough to remain there, nose against her slit, while she napped.

Later we got up and showered together.  She made a few more jokes about my small penis.  Kat held her clothes up against me, commenting that we were close enough in size that I could wear anything from her wardrobe.

"I'll give you my castoffs, as if you were my little sister," she said with good humor.  "But for right now, let me put my stuff back on and we'll see what else is hiding in your closet."

What she singled out first was a red minidress I was particularly fond of.  I was flattered that her taste had paralleled my own.  At the same time, I was still processing the fact that she wanted to do all this, even enjoyed it, and appeared to want to go forward from that point.  Kat had me get into the dress and zipped me up, an act that came across as very loving.  She also bumped her pelvis against my butt, which translated as more lusting than loving.  I liked the combination of the two.  She sent me to my well-organized linen closet to get a towel, which she draped around my shoulders so she could sit me down on the side of the bed to do make-up.  I told her where the cosmetics were cached, in a cute zipper-bag, in the cabinet under the bathroom sink, and she got them.  Turning on the bedside lamp and removing the shade, she considered what she had to work with.

"Some girls would pay a cosmetic surgeon good money to get features like yours.  This unobtrusive nose, full lower lip, and weak chin aren't assets to a guy, or at least to a regular guy, but they'll make it easy to pass you off as female.  Maybe even for a shopping trip to that lingerie place in the mall."  When I froze up, she informed me, her breath warm on my ear, "Just kidding, Therese.  No trips out in public... yet."  She snickered, to tell me that was more naughty humor.

My dream girlfriend (How could I think of her as anything less?) took up an eyebrow pencil and got to work.  She mentioned that with the little bit of peach-fuzz on my face, there would be no concerns about whiskers, 'like real men have'.  I cringed but also felt my sexual temperature rising again, sooner than I would have anticipated.  With practiced skill, she used eye shadow, blush and lipstick, then decided on mascara.  I had applied all those products to my face in the past, and thought I knew what the results of her efforts would be.  But when she removed the towel and had me go to the mirror, the full-length one mounted on the inside of my closet door, I was pleasantly surprised.  Staring back at me was a face more feminine than I was accustomed to seeing, looking classy but also, thanks I think to her choice of colors for my two-tone eyelids, slightly slutty.  The revealing red dress, with modest breast forms sewn in, enhanced the seductive aspect of my look.  From behind me, Kat mussed up my hair and made me look like I'd just spent a hedonistic night.  Then she grabbed both my butt cheeks and squeezed hard.  I took that as a good sign.

Over the ensuing nights and weeks, with some long weekends included, she worked her way through my crossdressing collection.  There were some new inclusions that came from her wardrobe.  I received a secret tingle from having anything of hers on.  We even went out a few times to shop for new additions, though I never did it while femme.  Kat regulated my sex life.  Usually I just got stimulated a lot, went down on her, and was left yearning for completion.  She enjoyed withholding orgasms, making me tease myself, and talking about what else we might do.  She checked some of my favorite online pages, exploring them with me as her guide, but also following up alone, back at her apartment.

The first big event in our relationship had been when she figured out that I liked to dress and confirmed it on the computer, which led to my confession.  The second turning point was when she gave me a blindfold test.  The basic idea was simple.  She had me put on a baby doll nightie, pink and see-through, that we had bought at a lingerie shop in the mall.  Then she sprayed perfume in the air and had me walk through the cloud of mist, which left me sweetly scented.  We went and sat on the sofa.  Next came the blindfold, which was a colorful, lightweight scarf that she'd had for years.  Knowing that it had been around her neck many times leant it a special potency in the ritual we were about to perform.  She put it over my eyes and knotted it behind my head.  Then she kissed me deeply, while playfully tweaking and twisting my nipples.  The combination of stimulation and mild pain was very effective in breaking down barriers.  Wearing that filmy bit of nothing, not being able to see, and then experiencing the jolts of arousal mixed with slight discomfort, put me completely off balance.

She put a hand high up on my thigh and whispered into my ear, "When did you first want to dress up?"

"I was in my early teens.  My older sister used to leave her clothes lying all around her room.  I could sneak in and bury my face in a blouse, or hold her panties up in front of my hips and strut around.  She was such a slob that she'd never notice if something was moved.  Once, when everybody was out of the house, I dared to undress and put on a pair of her panties, with a T-shirt she had, a pink one with the image of some big-eyed, punkish female character, from a series of books, who struck me as the epitome of cartoon trashiness.  After that I knew, despite some initial shame and confusion, that I was hooked."

Kat lulled me with some innocuous questions and then, when my guard was down, wanted to know, "How do you feel about being cheated on?"

Without thinking, I got as far as, "It would be incredibly exciting and...", before I realized what I was saying and shut up.

As if nothing special had happened, she moved right on to, "Do you have any special fantasies that I might not guess."

After a pause of a few seconds, still off balance, I admitted, "There is one.  It might sound silly, but I've often thought of being a housekeeper.  You know, like they have in hotels.  Or better yet, working for a rich woman.  I'd wear a stock uniform, neatly pressed, and work silently around the house, while others barely noticed me."  As long as I was spilling my secrets, I went on, "I have this need to serve others, in a humble fashion, and to do a good job without expecting more than the minimum of approval."  It had been harder to get out than some of the more sex-related secrets.  "Do you think that's funny?"

"Not at all.  I sort of like it.  And wouldn't mind getting free housecleaning."  She twisted a lock of my hair around her finger -- Kat had ordered me to skip haircuts in favor of light trims -- and added, "Especially with a worker like you, who also provides such satisfying personal services."

There were more questions, with her touching me more as we neared the end.  By the time I'd given my final answer, I could sense her heightened sexual mood. With my blindfold still on, she walked me to the bedroom.  In bed, I had to do everything strictly by touch.  She took advantage of my inability to see, so she could manhandle (if that's the right word) my body and pretend to play rough, until I ended up again with my head between her thighs.  After I had satisfied Kat, she took mercy on my aching testicles, got me on my back and gave me a prolonged hand-job, that included me pleading for relief in a breathy, Therese voice, and Kat referring to my penis as a clitoris.  My pleas were rewarded with a titanic finale that left me panting.  And then, to make sure that I didn't have pleasure without some accompanying shame, she gathered the spunk off my belly, with the end of her finger, and fed it to me a little at a time.  I had to fib and tell her I loved it, although I was beginning to wonder if that might not be turning into the truth as time passed.

A few days after the blindfold interrogation, Kat drove me to a suburban area with which I wasn't familiar.  She pulled into the lot of a uniform supplier.  Once we were inside and had browsed for a few minutes, a young female employee approached and asked if she could help us.  Kat explained that she wanted several uniforms for a housecleaner, and that the person wearing them was the same size as herself.  The helpful clerk found several choices and Kat decided on two in one style, a dress with a mid-calf hem, plus one that ended above the knee.  Pretending that the outfits were for someone else, and doing it while I was there as her silent partner in deception, made me feel like we were co-conspirators.  It was naughty and erotic at the same time.

From there we got a light lunch.  Kat ordered for me.  She said I shouldn't eat too much, as I would be working for several hours and a full tummy would be uncomfortable.  When she ran non-sexual portions of my life, even if it was simply making a small decision like that, it was delightful, similar to when she called the shots in bed, but also different.  After our meal, we went directly to her apartment.  I stripped and put on the uniform with no help from her, beyond a few spoken instructions.  She had even gotten me some plain, high-waisted underpants, to heighten the mood.  She was very formal at that point.  It was as if we were abruptly in an employer/employee relationship.  She directed me to address her as Ms. Katrina and called me Teresa.  If you've never entertained this scenario, it might not sound involving to you.  But to me, in my housecleaner outfit for the first time, it was a longstanding dream coming true.  Kat had some cleaning supplies ready.  She directed me to start in the bathroom, and then absented herself, as if I was a mere domestic, not worth the bother of speaking to outside of telling me what to do.  In keeping with my cherished version of the arrangement, developed over years, this was perfect.  I was a mere functionary, there only to perform my assigned tasks, beneath notice for the most part, but eager to please my boss.

When I got to her bathroom, which was usually spic and span, I was taken aback to notice that it hadn't been cleaned in a while.  That's when I remembered that she had been having all our nights together take place at my home lately.  Kat devoted a lot of attention to my wants, and I appreciated it all over again at that moment.  It's odd when a dirty bathroom makes you happy, but that was the way it was.  I got busy at once, starting high and working my way down.  The TV went on in the other room.  I could hear it but not make out any words, so it was simply background noise.  My sense of being only hired help deepened, along with a need to devote myself to my efforts.  I busily worked for several hours.  When she did deign to check on me, I remembered to address her as Ms. Katrina.  To her I was simply Teresa, but with no special inflection when she spoke the name.  Maybe you've heard of sub space, the state a submissive mind enters when its owner is being dominated.  My mental condition was like that but specific to my particular ideal scenario and its realization.  I was in sissy-sub paradise.

Not until the bathroom was spotless and I had washed a sink full of dirty dishes (again, something I wasn't used to seeing in Kat's apartment), did she break character, congratulate me, and give me a warm hug.  I thanked her profusely and even shed a few unmanly tears of gratitude.

Soon she had me removing all my body hair and keeping myself smooth everywhere.  For the next two months, she took me to her place to repeat the cleaning and do chores, once a week.  I dusted everyplace, vacuumed, cleaned under furniture, and yes, did windows, though only from the inside, and even then with the delicious knowledge that I might be glimpsed by passersby.  We had settled into a comfortable arrangement, with endless fulfillment for me, and Kat taking great satisfaction from having, as she sometimes referred to me, 'my own little sissy slave'.  Then, unexpectedly, she brought up marriage, and her moving into my house.  I was cheerfully startled.  Wow.  I mean, just wow.  But, she also pointed out, there were a few matters to be considered and discussed.

I thought I knew what she meant.  There was always the fact of my small penis, something that was never far from the front of my mind, especially because she still brought it up all the time.  I knew she was only doing that because it increased my pleasure.  Still, some part of me felt apologetic about not being qualified to have intercourse that would fill her needs, or even fill her pussy.  I reminded her again about my immature organ.  She listened to that dick caveat, and told me that, although she was currently okay with our substitution of oral sex for vaginal, her issue was directly related to that.

"The thing is, Terry..."  She used my male name when we were out somewhere or else, like in this instance, when we were discussing something serious.  "... before I met you, I did have other men, in more traditional ways.  Plenty of average and, frankly a lot of above average, cocks.  As much as I love you and get one form of satisfaction from our love life, there's something else I require.  I need to get properly slammed from time to time, if I may state it that bluntly.  I'm not looking to get or give romantic love.  That's strictly between us.  But I'm long overdue for some major, battering-ram sex."  She shrugged.  "And I need to know your feelings about it."

I was nonplussed.  After a few more moments I said, in my male voice, "I don't want to lose you."

"Same here, Terry.  And it would never come to that, I promise you.  In this case, love and sex are two different things.  You and I have both.  Me and whoever, would have only the sex part.  That and friendship.  You see, the guy I'm thinking of is someone from before you and I got together.  He's a great person, very responsible, but not ready to settle down."

"Well," I said hesitantly, "I'd like to think about it some more."

"Absolutely.  The idea of being married, and having a wife who openly cheats, would be devastating for most guys.  I understand that.  But I also know that there are plenty of cuckolding stories and pictures and captions online, and that some of the pages you visited and still go onto, are full of that.  Up until now, every one of your fantasies we've fulfilled has been a success.  I believe that, if you let it happen, this one could, too."

"You mean, you'd start it after we're married?"

Kat tilted her head to the side.  "Or sooner.  Like, very soon.  I'd get what I want, and you'd find out how it affects you."  She opened her arms to me.

"We could try it," I said, reverting to my Therese voice.  I went to her and she held me close.

"How about if he and I go out for drinks first?"  She touched the back of my neck, under my lengthening hair.

"No," I told her.  Something inside caused me to want to take the plunge.  With uncharacteristic decisiveness, I said, "You should go all the way on the first date."

"Well, the first new date."  She blew in my ear.  "His name is Chas and I found out long ago that he's a great lay."  She added mischievously, "And much better equipped for it than you."

I was struck simultaneously by pangs of jealousy and tingles of excitement.  That's how far I was into my new lifestyle.  She told me that she would call him, and suggest Saturday, the traditional date night.  I hugged her back, buried my face against her chest, and nodded.

For the next few evenings Kat gave me some mild sexual teasing.  We joked a bit, but there was an undercurrent of tension.  With no sex, my urges were mounting.  I was touched that she obviously didn't want to hurt me.  I wasn't going to restrain her, but I also needed to deal with the fact that someone else would be jumping into bed with my darling.  And he was a former lover, who was well hung and good in bed.  Saturday arrived.  The two of us were at her place.  We avoided the topic that loomed over everything like a dark cloud.  But then the sun broke through when she resumed her dominant demeanor and told me I was going to strip completely and help her get ready.  I'll freely admit, it was like being hit by a bolt of libido lightning.

I followed her to the bathroom.  She showered behind the see-through curtain, then had me dry her with a big fluffy towel.  Kat took the towel and flicked at my now erect penis with one corner of it.  She left me like I was, trembling with need.  I followed her to the bedroom, where she scented herself with powder and a spritz of perfume.  She had me put her in lacy panties, while she wondered out loud how Chas would like them.  There was no bra.  Then she got into a skirt fit for a cheerleader, along with a sleeveless top that had open sides held together by laces, to give peeks of breast flesh.  I was melting from lust for her and envy for Chas.  She did her hair and applied minimal make-up.  Kat struck a few suggestive poses.  She stuck her finger in her mouth and made a coy, innocent-babe face, so uncharacteristic of her.  It said that she could be a different person, if she wished to, while on her date.

Before it was time to leave, she declared that I had to be dressed, too.  She picked a yellow belly shirt and mini-shorts for me.  My hair was long enough that I could put it into a pair of short ponytails, at the sides of my head.  Kat had me stick on two sets of long, false eyelashes, with the end result that I resembled a demented teen girl.  My outfit was completed by sandals with thick cork soles.  When a firm knock sounded on her door, I froze.  The second I tried to retreat into the rear of the apartment, Kat snapped at me to let her date in.  With my nerves on high alert, I opened the door.  There stood Chas, tall and blond and obviously a devotee of gym workouts.  He gave me a toothy smile but didn't comment on my girly image.

"Hello," I said meekly.  "Kat is all ready.  She'll be..."

That was when she breezed into the room, looking like sexual dynamite with a short fuse.  If I'd had gum in my mouth, I would have swallowed it.  She had put on strappy heels that made her legs even more shapely, and gave her a suggestive stride.  As she went to Chas I could only goggle at her.  I felt like a protective older brother and a jealous younger sister, both at the same time.  The pair wrapped their arms around each other and exchanged a fierce kiss.  I felt like I'd been gut-punched.  I also got a straining erection that made me wish my bikini-cut panties weren't so snug.  They broke the kiss, she threw a casual wave in my general direction, and the two of them were gone.  Kat had given me advance instructions to go to one of my favorite TV sites, Story-Obsession, and read three pieces of sissy-cuckold fiction by the prolific but theme-erratic writer, Thrown.  I got into the first one, TOUGH LUCK, SISSY CUCK, but was distracted by mental images of what Kat and Chas were likely doing, that ran like an ongoing slideshow through my mind.  After all of the stories had put even more imaginings into my stream of thoughts, I had instructions to watch several videos.  Then Kat had left me some unfilled time, presumably to fret and fantasize about the unavoidable truth that she was going to have sex with a hunk, while her sissy husband-to-be, sat home in one of his most girly outfits yet.  I couldn't feel too sorry for myself, not with my undergrown dick leaking pre-cum the entire time.

Shortly after midnight, the apartment door opened.  I had been curled up on the sofa, half asleep.  Kat and Chas stepped inside.  I couldn't move.

She said to him, "I had a terrific time.  Your apartment is gorgeous, especially the bedroom.  Thank you for making me a complete woman again."

"My pleasure," he told her.  "Literally.  Same time next week?"

"For sure."

They kissed.  It wasn't as fiery as earlier, probably because they were spent from lots of great sex.  I felt defeated and deflated.  He glanced over Kat's shoulder, saw me, smirked, and gave a farewell nod.  Then Chas was gone.

"Whew," Kat said, and sighed.  "That was a night to remember.  Want to hear the details?"  When I demurred she said, "Sure you do.  Girl talk."

Then she came and sat on the end of the sofa, by my feet, giving my bare and hairless lower leg a sisterly few pats of consolation.  She proceeded to rave about Chas's cock, his stamina, and how much his technique had improved since their past dates.  But that was followed with her tickling the backs of my knees, getting me to laugh, and inviting me to bed.  She had me get into a PJ set, short-sleeved top and bottom, like I was attending a pajama party.  I helped her undress, got her nude, was given a hug, and climbed under the covers with her.

"You know," she said sleepily, "I like how some of those cuckold stories by Thrown end.  When the guy has to eat the girl's pussy after she comes home with it full of another man's cream.  Like mine is now.  And I'd love to find out what it's like, after having several deep orgasms from a monster cock ramming me, to be given a soft climax by your velvet tongue.  Do you want to do that for me, Therese?  Hmmm?"

"I don't know," I answered, sounding like the sullen teen I must have resembled, the way I was pouting.

"Well, we could skip that part.  Or you could follow your dream to where it leads you.  Lick-lick-lick."

I gave in.  My hard-on wouldn't quit.  When I wriggled down to my subservient sexual position, she mewled her approval.  Her legs parted to accommodate me.  My lips brushed her cream-filled puss.  Well, I'd eaten my own semen from there, more than a few times.  But this was another male's ejaculate, and it had been deposited much deeper.  As I mentally debated, the first dollop was sliding down my gullet.  My soft sleepwear felt so good against my smooth skin.  I was slipping into another TV trance.  Nothing drew me out of it until Kat took hold of my ponytails, had a hip-wiggling orgasm, and subsided into peaceful near-slumber.  Drifting the rest of the way into dreamland, she muttered, "I love you, Therese."

That scene was repeated weekly.  A day for our nuptials was set.  Kat picked out my tuxedo.  She joked that if I was any smaller, we would have had to go to the Boys Department.  That led to several verbal swipes at my puny pecker.  I had pre-marital jitters, though not the type most guys might find themselves with.

"Kat," I said one night, in bed, "can we talk?"  She had allowed me to wear something that was supposed to be saved until our wedding night.  It was a long slip with intricate embroidery down the center of the front, as well as on the narrow shoulder straps and hem.  It was stunning and sent waves of soothing sissy sweetness rippling through me.  But it wasn't enough to settle down what was preying on my mind.  "There's something I'm concerned about."

I was using my Therese voice, which I did pretty much every minute we were together alone, so she responded the way she did by then, to my sissy-self.  "What is it, girl?"

"Well, all this with you dating Chas and him seeing me every time he picks you up, and then me having to... you know... clean up after him..."

"You mean eating cream pie," she said with a sneer in her voice.  Kat was definitely in dominant mode.

"Yes, all of it.  Well, what I'm afraid of is that I'm becoming addicted to everything.  I mean, since you started keeping me dressed and being in charge of me, when I thought about sex, I still had visions of doing it the normal, I mean what's normal for most couples, way.  Even if the idea was just in the back of my mind.  But now, when I think about sex, which you have me doing all the time, I immediately associate it with going down on you, being teased and denied, and even..."  It was hard for me to say.  "... eating cream pie."

"And...?"

"I'm afraid I'm getting addicted to the whole lifestyle.  That I won't ever be able to go back to thinking about sex any other way.  That I'll come to crave what I'm getting, more and more."

She laughed quietly.  "Therese, you're already there.  I can read you like a book.  Or like one of those kinky stories online.  If you tell yourself there's a chance of going vanilla again, you're lying to yourself.  And as far as getting hooked on all our naughty games, well I certainly hope it happens.  I mean, more than it already has.  I love it when you're practically drooling to get your mouth on my snatch.  And how you beg with your eyes to be teased and left horny.  Plus, lately you've started sniffing around after Chas drops me off.  It's like you get high on the scents of my sweat, and his sweat on me, and especially those late-night deposits he makes.  So forget normal and just enjoy freaky."

"I... okay."

"Now I'm going to roll over.  You can get under the covers and kiss my butt.  Keep smooching until you're sure I'm asleep."

She grew quiet and I got my face against her glorious ass.  As I pressed my lips to the yielding flesh, I tried to sense if she was sleeping yet.  But even after her breathing became shallow and regular, and I knew she wasn't awake, I continued kissing.  So yes, I suppose I was already past the point of no turning back.

Kat told me she was taking her cheating to the next level.  She began to have Chas stay longer, before they left.  I had to be present.  He acted amused by me, but didn't say anything nasty.  Kat made some jokes about my pathetic pecker and he laughed.  Then he said he couldn't join in completely, because he'd never seen it.  As if it had been preplanned, I was wearing pantyhose with an open crotch and cut-out seat.  The very short, silk robe I had on barely covered anything.  It had a belt tie but that was so slippery it kept coming undone, and the front halves of the robe kept trying to drift apart, so I had to hold it together.

My girlfriend told me to stand in front of them and raise my hands over my head.  We all knew what would happen.  The robe lifted and separated.  There was my laughable three-piece-set, framed by the opening in those pantyhose, for Chas to see.  He couldn't suppress a laugh.  Maybe he didn't bother to try.

"Jeez," he said.  "That's like the bite-size version of a cock.  It's so small, Kat, that it wouldn't even bother your extreme gag reflex."

"It wouldn't... if I ever put it in my mouth.  Which I don't do.  On a good week, he might get a hand-job.  Or if I'm feeling kind, he's allowed to touch my puss with his dinky dick until he squirts, and then clean up the goo with his mouth."

They laughed again.  For whatever reason, that evening turned into Chas's first sleepover.  In the morning I had to get the coffee maker going and set out mini-pastries.  They arrived in the kitchen, still making sexy eye contact.  I cringed inwardly.  Chas eyed my corset-and-bloomers combination.  By then my hair was long enough to be up in a man-bun.  Or in my case, I guess it was a sissy-bun.  A few strands fell across my brow.  Kat had directed me the night before to show up for breakfast with lots of rouge on my cheeks.  I made a weird sight as I brought two mugs of steaming coffee to them on a small serving tray.

"Hey, pickle-dick," Chas said to me.  "How's it hanging?  Oh wait.  It doesn't hang.  It's not long enough."

Kat smiled wickedly at me.  Chas said something to me about how maybe my penis had grown since last time he'd seen it.  When he summoned me to where he was sitting, I wordlessly went to him.  He grabbed the top of my bloomers and yanked them down onto my hairless thighs, exposing my equally hairless crotch.

"Nope," he concluded.  "No growth spurt.  Well, maybe when you hit puberty.  Or you might get your period, instead."  When I tried to back away, he told me to stay where I was.  "I like your dingle out and blowing in the breeze.  It's a nice reminder to Kat of how much more she gets with me."  He gave my bottom a pat.  "And how much firmer I am in the butt department."

He had touched my bare ass.  Nothing like that had ever occurred before.  I'd never had a guy touch me below the waist, that way.  As they drank their coffee and nibbled their pastries, I had to stay in one spot, smelling those appetizing items but not being allowed any.

Chas's overnighters became a regular occurrence.  When I said something to Kat, she asked me if my fantasies were still being brought to life.  I admitted they were.  So, she said, it would go on and go further.  Kat contrived more shameful outfits for me.  I might be costumed as a carhop or a French maid.  Chas marveled at how smooth and pink I was all over, and used his fascination as an excuse to touch me wherever and whenever he pleased.  Sometimes, when Kat wasn't in the room, he eyed me with what I was sure was lascivious intent.  It made me nervous and I intended to bring it up to my bride-to-be.  When I told her, however, I got an unwelcome shock.

She said, looking up from where she sat on the sofa, "It took you long enough to say something about that.  On the other hand, I don't understand what you're complaining about.  After all, you've been lapping up his spunk from my body and gulping it down for quite a while.  So why are you so skittish about a little touchy-feely?"

"I... it's just... different."  I stood there with my hands impotently at my sides, a study of surrender.

"Well, he and I don't think so.  We're just giving you what you really want and need.  I still love you, Therese, but our relationship is changing again.  Moving to the next level.  I've been going back to your favorite webpages, where it's fairly ordinary for sissies like you to get felt up by their girlfriends' or wives' lovers.  Haven't you been getting kicks from those stories all along?  And didn't you like every part of them that we made real, so far?""

"I mean... yes... and yes... but..."  I felt that any argument I might make wouldn't hold up.  Besides, it's difficult to make a case when you're wearing drop-bottom long-johns that are covered with cartoon animals, and the trapdoor is opened to display your bare bottom.  "I just...  don't like it."

She made a mocking sad face.  Then she softened and reached out to take my wrist.  Kat pulled me close and patted a spot next to her on the sofa.  I sat.  She drew me against her and we stayed like that for long, pleasant minutes.

When she spoke, it was to tell me, "Therese, you're not going to be fulfilled, not completely, until you go all the way.  There will forever be questions gnawing at your mind, about what you didn't try and whether or not you would have liked it."

"So you're suggesting that I... do what?"

"Remember that I have that unmanageable gag reflex.  And Chas is like any guy.  He would really like a blowjob now and then.  Besides which, he thinks you're attractive, in an available-sissy sort of way.  So I think a hook-up is in order."

"A hook-up?" I echoed.

"Sure.  Hooking up his cock and your mouth.  I've kissed his tool and licked it, and sucked the head.  Oh, and he loves it if you swirl your tongue around the top.  Okay?  But I can't have him in my throat.  You, on the other hand, can practice with this dildo he bought, that he sometimes uses to warm me up.  I'm confident that you could be a regular sword-swallower in no time."

"But I'm not gay."

"No.  You're a sissy.  Which is kind of like being BI.  Plus, you're as submissive as can be.  So you need to follow orders from anybody who's your superior.  Like me.  And because Chas is my bedmate, and a fantastic lay to go with it, by extension you have to obey him too.  Makes sense, doesn't it?"

It didn't make any sense at that moment.  I protested, "It's not fair."

She heaved a sigh.  "Therese, sissies like you don't get treated fairly.  They get cheated on and have to provide all sorts of body worship, without getting much in return.  But they learn to love it, in a twisted way, because they are what they are.  The changes come gradually.  Stop and think about how far you've been taken by me already.  Consider it, and then tell me this next step is too much.  It's not only fair, it's necessary."

"But... I'm not..."  Words failed me.

"Now let's start you on deep-throat practice and see what happens.  I brought that fake cock home.  And it still has my dried pussy juice on it.  I'm putting my faith in you, Therese.  You're going to be a fine little cocksucker."

My head was spinning.  This couldn't be happening.  But a moment later she was heading for the bedroom, motioning for me to follow.  I went numbly.  She got us to the bed, her sitting on the side and me kneeling before her.  From the nightstand, she produced a long, thick, lifelike, rubber prick.  Kat fed it into my mouth and I tasted her dried secretions.  She gradually worked it deeper.  I had a gag reflex but she pointed out that it wasn't crippling like hers.  Over the next several days, with her patient coaching, I learned to take it all.  Then she taught me techniques, including how to bob up and down on it, and to take breaths on the backstrokes.  She decided to save the surprise of my new talents until after our wedding, as a gift for her best man, Chas.

Meanwhile, she brought out those housecleaner uniforms again.  I had to don the one with the elevated hem when Chas was next due.  I fussed around, cleaning and tidying up.  When he arrived, he let himself in with the key that Kat had gotten made for him.  He looked me up and down, came over, and put his large hand on the side of my neck.  Chas massaged me there.  I'm sure he felt me tense under his touch.  But I had to remain the stoic housecleaner.  Kat sent me off to wipe down the bathroom with a big sponge.  I was in there when Chas came to use the toilet.  I tried to leave but he blocked me with his formidable body.  I squeezed into a space alongside the bowl.  He took out his impressive hammer, drained his bladder, shook off the last drops, and put it away.  Then he gave me a broad wink, before washing his hands and leaving me to finish my work.

For the rest of the evening I had to play the unobtrusive hired-help.  I stood by while they watched some TV and necked during the commercials, all over each other like a couple of eager teens.  When they moved to the bedroom, I was told to accompany them and stand by, in case they needed anything.  As often as they had been to bed together, I had never had to see it happen.  This would be a shock to my system.  They had athletic sex, right in front of me.  Kat complimented his enviable cock several times during their hour of lovemaking.  She also found opportunities to demean my small endowment.  After she recovered from multiple orgasms, she told me to get a hand towel, so Chas could get cleaned up.  Except that, when I returned with the requested item, it was me who had to do the job.  Remaining as impassive as I could, I wiped his flaccid but still lengthy member.  He told me to give his balls a quick wipe-off.

Then Kat rattled me when she declared, "Okay, Therese, I'm ready to have my twat cleaned, and I don't mean with a towel."

What?  As often as I'd done that for her, Chas had never witnessed the act.  She told me to lose my panties and bunch up the bottom of my dress.  Moving mechanically, I did that and got where I needed to be.  As I lowered my face to her oozing slit, I was seized by a familiar but unnatural hunger, one that had been growing over time.  All at once I was starving for another helping of his spunk.  As I had feared, it turned into a compulsion.  I lapped greedily, noisily, and got her panting.  Chas leaned in to give her a wet sloppy kiss, though not as wet and sloppy, or as messy, as what I was delivering.  He had a good time.  She was driven to a bonus climax by my busy tongue.  And I had an embarrassing erection that announced my lust for what I'd just done.  Chas had me stand by the bed, hold my uniform out of the way with one hand, and play with my miniature dick with the other.  I sniffled as I stroked.  They permitted me to take myself to the edge several times but never to go the rest of the way.  I was left with cheeks burning from shame, and balls throbbing from lack of release.

The wedding came.  Under my tux I had on a tight corset, satin panties, and stockings held up by garters.  It was a simple ceremony, better attended on Kat's side of the aisle than on mine.  The reception was pleasant enough.  I danced the traditional first dance with my new wife.  Chas danced the next one with her.  After the last toast was made and all the money envelopes safely stored in her drawstring bag, we retired to our bridal suite.  Chas arrived twenty minutes later.  By then I had stripped down to only what I'd been wearing underneath, and slipped into Kat's bridal heels, which were too small for me.  She perched her headpiece atop my shoulder length hair, and fluffed the veil out in back.  It reached nearly to my waist.  She had taken a bunch of flowers from our table's centerpiece and had me hold them in both hands, like a bridal bouquet.  Kat stripped down to her lacy underthings and posed on the bed.  That was the sight that greeted Chas as he entered our room.  The big man laughed, stopped to paw my ass and bite my neck, and then got on the bed with my new wife.

I had to stand there like a blushing bride, while my newly wed wife offered herself to our Best Man.  Chas didn't hesitate.  He got right into foreplay, and Kat's response was noisy and lively.  They were all over each other, while I watched and tried not to have an emotional breakdown.  At the same time, I was wildly aroused, which I couldn't deny, with my tiny dick standing up and begging for attention.  The pair on the bed got into their main act.

Chas called over to me, "I hope you don't mind me consummating the marriage for you, but I've got the right tool for the job, and you don't."

Kat laughed at that.  She said, "Even when it's excited, his little twiddle doesn't look like much."  To me she said, "Pay attention, Therese.  Take a good look at his fabulous love-machine going in and out of me.  Notice how wet I'm getting.  Remember all this, so you'll have something interesting to think about while you're doing your housework."

After that, they forgot me for a half hour while they -- pardon the crude term -- screwed their brains out.  My bride hollered ecstatically as he drove her to a pair of quaking orgasms.  During the second one, he let himself go and emptied his balls inside her.  I should have been weeping with anguish, but all I could think about was how overheated it had gotten me.  Afterwards, he rolled off her and they lay side-by-side.

Kat showed me a frown-face.  "Poor baby.  Your wee-wee is all pumped up with nowhere to go.  Why don't you use those flowers to tease it?  Go ahead.  Stick your dick in there and make love to them."

"Go on," Chas said to back her up.  "Tiptoe through the tulips."

I changed the angle of those flowers and brought them up until my penis was in the middle.  Then I had to give a humiliating performance of humping away at them.  All the contact kept me hard, but it was far from enough to make me finish.  Kat had me pull out a carnation and brush it over each of my nipples.  She made a joke about how nice I would smell after my make-out session with the flowers.

After they'd had a good laugh, I was allowed to stop my humiliating act.  Then I had to hold the improvised bouquet between my thighs, so that from where the lovers lay, instead of male parts, I had a spray of blossoms at my crotch, like I was a living work of surrealist art.  Finally, they relented and allowed me to lie between them.  We all went to sleep that way.  It felt strangely appropriate for me to be where I was.

The next morning Chas called room service and had a selection of breakfast items sent up.  I was permitted to cower under the covers, pressed against Kat, so the young man who brought everything couldn't see me.  I was even allowed to have a little to eat, though not as much as the lovebirds did.  Then came the moment I had been dreading.

Kat said to Chas, "You know how you always wish I could give you head?"

"Sure, babe.  But I understand that you're not able to.  It's all right."

"Thanks.  Now, what if there was someone else here who could step in and take my place?"

He was sitting on the edge of the bed.  I was across from him, a chair, still in the corset and stockings from the night before.  The big man eyed me hungrily.

Chas said, "Yeah.  Therese is more like a girl than a guy, so it wouldn't be gay or anything.  At least, not for me."

Kat told me, "You heard the man.  Finish eating your dry toast, and then you can crawl over to the bed and eat him."

I shuddered.  Setting aside the bread, my appetite gone, I got down on my knees.  Chas pushed the serving table aside.  He stood and pointed to his shorts.  I went to him on hands and knees, got up on my haunches, and lowered his boxers.  There was his long thick cock, still coated with my wife's secretions and the remnants of his spunk, even after the quick wiping I'd given it with that towel.  I swallowed my pride, got into position, and dipped my head down so I could kiss his dangling shaft.  Using my mouth and hands, tasting mingled love juices, I coaxed it to it's full impressive dimensions.  Then, remembering my lessons with the dildo, I capped the head and began sucking.  My tongue swirled around the corona, eliciting a sigh from Chas.  I began to take in more.  And more.  And continued until my nose was in his pubic bush and his balls were against my chin.  Then I worked up and down on it, giving him what my wife couldn't.  The corset squeezed me, because of my position.

"How about that," Kat commented.  "Therese finally has a big cock.  Though this might not be the way she wanted it."

"Oh," he said, "she wanted this.  I'll bet her dingle is harder than it's ever been."

My wife got down alongside me and felt for it.  "You're not kidding.  She's going to get as hooked on sucking you as she is on eating me."

Kat gave me a few strokes, which enflamed my neglected system.  I needed to finish.  Something told me that giving Chas a superior blowjob would earn me that right.  I worked on him like I was some cheap whore.  Kat sat alongside her lover.  I glanced up from my efforts and saw them kissing, his hand massaging her breast.  It was horrible.  It was wonderful.  I got my fingers as far around his rod as they would reach and pumped him, while continuing to mouth his knob.  He tensed and grunted.  A moment later, his hot semen was flooding my mouth.  I forced myself to swallow, gagging it all down.  As disgusting as it was on one level, the sissy in me took over, and I licked and kissed his enviable member through a long descent from the heights of pleasure.

"Damn," he said, "that was freaking incredible.  I'm going to want plenty of Therese's sucking from now on."

"Hey," Kat offered, "she can get you ready for my pussy anytime you want.  Your own personal fluffing girl."

They laughed.  I sniffled, the taste of spunk thick in my mouth.  But I still had that shameful accusing hard-on.

"Please," I whimpered in my wispy Therese voice.  "May I please...?"

"Jerk off your tiny dick?" Kat said.  "Sure.  Make it shoot onto that half a piece of toast you didn't finish.  Then you can eat it all up."  She chuckled.  "And love doing it."

I sniffled.  It was repulsive.  And I was grateful for the opportunity.  I was now so much of a sissy, and knew we would be exploring my apparent lack of limits for a long time to come.

*********