Sunday, October 19, 2014
Swiss Miss Sissy, Chapter 9a
Chapter 9: Let the games begin. Cheryl participates in Mistress Margot's games as the sole contender.
I was giving head.
Mistress told me I talked too much, so she had me put my mouth to better use. She leaned back in her chair. One hand was holding a magazine she was reading, with the other she kept pressure on the back of my head. She really didn't need to, since I did not dare stop, but she liked to remind me constantly who was in control.
I was moving my lips back and forth over the strapon, tickling the underside with my tongue. As I slid them up and down, my lips kept tension around the shaft. Tight like a cute little sissy hole, as Mistress had told me.
The penetrator's material left a foul taste in my mouth, and my jaw was getting tired, but it was my knees that were bothering me the most. My outfit squeaked as I shifted my weight from one knee to the other. I heard chain links jingle.
But I was smiling happily as I sucked on the strapon, moving it in and out of my mouth again and again. Every now and then I looked up, trying to catch Mistress' eye and show her how much I was enjoying myself. Occasionally she would look down at me, smile contently, and give me an encouraging little squeeze in my now tender breasts, causing me to moan softly.
Yes, I smiled as I continued humiliating myself. I was very happy that Mistress decided to honour me by putting a dildo in my mouth. Of course I was. Or at least I tried to be. Tried very hard.
As I teased the tip of the penetrator with my lips, I could not stop thinking about the previous night, when Mistress' two maids dragged me of to see her and the 'penalty box'. It had scared the living daylights out of me, and I was going to do anything to prevent her from sending me there.
I felt tired, as I did not get much sleep last night. The fear and dismay was still way too fresh. I was sure I would have made a run for it if I wasn't tied down to my bed. But my movements were restricted to some mere tossing and turning.
I must have fallen asleep at some point during the night, because next thing I knew was Jeanne and Bernadette standing over me, wishing me 'good morning' as they reached out for me. Startled, I tried to evade their grasping hands, but my defiance was short lived when Bernadette grabbed a nipple and twisted it around. I squealed as sharp pain shot through my chest.
“You behave, yes? Or we blindfold you,” the tall maid said. I mumbled a confirmation as I avoided their gaze.
I was hardly awake when they unchained me from the bed. They left the handcuffs on, but locked them behind my back again. Jeanne leaned down and put my three-inch sandals on my feet, closing the straps.
Bernadette linked her arm around my left one, Jeanne did the same on my right, and together they firmly marched me out of my room and towards the bathroom.
“You stand here,” Jeanne spoke as they positioned me in the middle of the bathroom. “Do not move, chéri.”
I tried to be a docile as possible, but when the women pulled my hairnet off and started to dabble with my hair, I felt very uncomfortable.
“C'est encore très bien,” Bernadette said as she plucked at my curly platinum blonde locks. Jeanne sprayed my hair with something that would apparently make it even more vibrant.
“Okay Cheryl, let's get these off you,” Jeanne said as she pulled my panties down.
“Jeanne! What are you doing?” I cried.
“Getting your clothes off, obviously,” she said with a patronizing smile. “We need to get you cleaned up.”
“I can do that myself,” I said loudly.
“Of course you can. You are a big girl, aren't you?” She said mockingly.
“Jeanne, I'm serious! Let go of... Gah!” I groaned as Bernadette twisted my nipple again. Those damned sensitive boobs!
“You be quiet now! Or do you want us to tell Madame Margot?” The tall maid said with a severe tone, looking me straight in the eyes, her nose barely an inch removed from mine. “Want her to take you to the penalty box?”
“...No...” Was all I could utter.
“Very good,” Jeanne said with an unconcerned voice as she pulled my panties down to my ankles. “Would you step out of these, chéri?” After a moment of reluctance, I heard my heels click twice.
Next was my night corset, which Jeanne quickly unlaced. Bernadette lifted my frilly babydoll and pulled it over my head and shoulders. She couldn't remove it completely due to the handcuffs, but left it folded around my wrists. Aside from my heels, I was completely naked. I felt very self-conscious.
Which became a lot worse when the two maids began cleaning me. I felt like a piece of meat as they wetted wash cloths and started to clean my skin from head to toe. I groaned at the indignity of having these women put her hands all over me. I felt tears in my eyes as Bernadette cleaned my privates. Then Jeanne cleaned my face once more, complaining about me soiling my pretty face.
When they were done they dried me with a pair of towels, followed by a liberal application of a range of health and beauty lotions on my skin. Apparently, you should use a different product for your face than one you use on your legs...
Jeanne inspected my new breast, making sure the attachment was flawless. You could hardly even see where my real skin ended and the fake one began. Finally, completely moisturised and what not, I was ready.
They locked arms with me again, and directed me towards the door.
“Jeanne? Bernadette? What are you doing?” I asked in dismay.
“We are going to the dressing room. Doll you all up,” The raven-haired maid spoke.
“But I'm naked!” I cried.
“Don't worry,” Bernadette said. “It's not cold outside. Besides, you cannot get any smaller than you are now.” Both maids laughed. I felt more like crying as they forced me out in the hallway.
I tried to put up a brave face as I was firmly guided along the corridor. But I was very self-conscious about my nakedness, wearing only heels and handcuffs.
And my fake boobs of course, but they did not count. As completely alien they were, they had also become part of me at the same time. Without a bra, I could feel their awkward bounce as I paced forward.
Every time we turned a corner my heart skipped a beat. I was terrified that Mistress Margot would see me like this. But without encountering anyone, we came to the dressing room and the maids took me inside.
It was a large and old room. I saw furniture that was probably old when my grandparents were young, its heavily varnished wood a deep reddish colour. A massive closet covered most of the opposite wall.
They placed me on a small platform in the centre of the room, warning me not to move, and walked over to the closet.
As they opened the doors, I couldn't believe what I saw. Where the whole room had an air of muted and dignified tradition, the contents of the closet was an explosion of colours, with many different skirts and dresses ranging from demure to very frilly. This must have been Danielle's wardrobe, I surmised.
The maids ignored the dresses hanging there, but after some discussion Jeanne took out the leftmost one of the closed boxes stored on its shelves. She put it on a small table in front of me. Smiling she opened the box and showed me its contents.
My mouth was agape. They could not be serious!
I was to wear a parody of my usual outfits, which is saying something. It was fetish wear made almost completely from a combination of shiny patent leather and latex.
After showing me what to expect, my two escorts first put a white latex bra on me, tight enough for my fake nipples to be prominently displayed. Next came matching panties of the same material, which both woman had to pull hard to get it up my legs. I was horrified to notice that the item had holes in its front and backside.
“You cannot expect your Mistress to have to pull these tight knickers down every time she wants access to you,” Jeanne explained as she guided my privates through the front opening. “Now she can play with your clitty and hole without even touching the material.”
At least they had forgone giving me a plug, albeit the implications of that were unsettling too.
They prepared white stockings of the same material. They unbuckled my sandals and made me step into one, then the other, rolling them up my leg until everything up to eight inches above my knees was covered by the latex. It felt even tighter than my undies, and I could feel the stockings resist against bending my legs.
The heels were next. Lime green pumps with T-straps, that my jailers had secured on my feet with small padlocks. I suffered another indignity when Bernadette, despite my pleas, attached cuffs to my ankles with in between a chain that was hardly a foot-and-a-half long.
Then came the dress, made of patent leather. It too was green, though a bit darker than my heels. It had a very deep décolletée, so my bra and boobs were clearly visible. There was an abundant mockery of frills around the edges of the skirt, cleavage and sleeves. It was short enough to show some skin just above my stockings. Petticoats went underneath to give it a lot of volume. When Jeanne zipped me in, snapping shut another lock to fasten it, I could feel how tight it was around the shoulders.
It immediately became clear why. The sleeves were attached to the sides of the dress, which kept my upper arms against my body tightly, forcing my elbows against my sides. With straps at each sleeve, the maids fastened it even tighter, allowing only my lower arms to move.
“Miss Margot had this made specifically for you,” Jeanne said with a wide grin. “Helps you to keep your hands very ladylike.”
Not that my hands were spared, though. White latex gloves were rolled up my arms just under my elbows, and green leather cuffs were attached around my wrists. Fortunately, my hands were not bound, but the D-rings suggested that could change at any moment.
Then came a white leather waist corset that, to my surprise, went over the dress. I gasped as Bernadette pulled hard on the straps and buckled them tight. I saw the reflection of metal links on the garment, revealing its other function as bondage wear.
The penultimate item was a thick and wide collar that was fastened around my neck, also holding rings, that made turning my head difficult. The finishing touch was hanging a ballgag around my neck as a necklace.
“Just in case,” Jeanne said smirking. “Always good to be prepared.” I heard Bernadette chuckle.
The maids then directed me to a vanity table, where the two women - no way I could do it myself in this outfit - laid my makeup on thick. Literally. Bright and obvious colours. Fiery red lips, a lot of blush, dark eye shadow.
They subjected me to a cloud of strong but feminine perfume, and then were done. My attire squeaked as they got me out of my chair and placed me in front of the full length mirror. I was shocked as I saw the live-sized fetish doll in the mirror.
Almost an hour after entering I minced out of the dressing room, followed closely by the two maids who were sniggering loud enough for me to hear.
“Faster, chéri,” Jeanne urged me in a highly amused tone, poking me with a crop. “Click those heels of yours. Must not keep your Mistress waiting.”
I struggled to obey this order in my absurd attire, which made even the slightest movements awkward. I felt its tightness all over my body, the latex very unfamiliar on my skin. The heels and ankle cuffs reduced my gait to ridiculous short steps. The integrated bonds around my sleeves ensured I could only use my lower arms to keep my balance, forcing me to hold my hands outwards at my sides.
Fortunately Ingrid and Brigitt had been drilling me for two weeks now, so I somehow managed to keep my balance and make my gait look properly sissy-like.
“Très bon, ma chérie,“ Jeanne complimented “You look excellent. You wear your bonds with a grace like they are merely fancy accessories.”
“Oh Jeanne, don't you know girls like her just love being put in chains? To her they really are an accessory,” Bernadette jested.
Aside from making more humorous remarks on my appearance, the maids repeated the 'house rules' Mistress mentioned yesterday. Stay close to Mistress at all times. Otherwise ask her to assign one of the maids as an escort.
I had to entertain Mistress with my submissive and feminine behaviour and pretend as if I had some huge crush on her, so I had to be very affectionate. My speech should be very silly, to properly reflect just what an ignorant little bimbo I was. Any shortcomings would result in punishment, obviously. Possibly even being sent to the penalty box.
They further elaborated on the fact that I was still her guest, not a maid or anything, so I didn't need to clean the house like at Mistress Christina's. However, they suggested that it would certainly amuse Mistress to see me fumble around with a duster.
“As for the rest, well... You'll discover what to do soon enough,” Jeanne said with a mean tone. “I'm sure Madame will make you feel it, one way or the other. Turn left here, Cheryl.”
If that was supposed to scare me, it worked. But I had to concentrate on my hobbled gait so I did not give an outward sign.
They directed me to the other wing of the mansion, where Mistress' private drawing room was located. With every step my ankle chain tingled, my stockings squeaked and my heels clicked.
They walked me up to a door, and Jeanne knocked.
“Yes?” I hear Mistress say.
“Little miss Cheryl is here to see you, Madame,” the maid with the black hair said.
“Send her in.”
She opened the door, and Bernadette gently nudged me forward. I stepped over the threshold.
In a comfortable chair at the left sat my tormentor. Mistress Margot was again dressed in leather, but her attire seemed a bit more casual and comfortable. Yesterday's tight skirt was replaced by a looser and more voluminous one.
I minced up to her, keeping a respectable distance, then bobbed a curtsey. It was much harder with my legs in my stockings and chains.
“Good morning, Mistress,” I said as I tried to smile, hiding my nervousness. “You look wonderful today.” Well, what can I say? She did.
She looked at me with a mixture of radiant glee and wickedness.
“Why, look at you Cheryl!” Mistress said with a smile. “You are quite the sight as well. That is some outfit you are wearing. Leather and latex? You did not strike me as a girl who would like this attire. And the cuffs! Are you are into bondage, my dear?”
I hesitated for a moment. Was I into bondage? She put me in this outfit! Of course I did not say that out loud. The glint in her eyes spoke volumes, and I was not about to be sent to the penalty box. So I took a deep breath and forced myself into character. My outfit squeaked as I struck the pose that Ingrid had taught me the day before.
“Oh yes, Mistress,” I said while giggling like an idiot. “I just love being tied up. It allows my Mistress to do everything she desires to me, with me unable to do anything about it. And I want nothing more than to please my Mistress.“
Her smile grew wider. She knew I was lying, that I was afraid of her. Which was exactly how she liked it. My eyes drifted towards the crop laying across her lap. I giggled, then continued saying what she wanted to hear.
“And my clothes, they are so tight, accentuating my curves wonderfully. I can barely walk in them, but I do not mind because it makes me look very sexy. I really hope my Mistress will notice me as I mince around. I like it if Mistress watches me.” I bent over a bit further, putting more emphasis on my cleavage, then winked at her seductively.
Mistress laughed “Oh my, aren't you a cheeky little lady! Trying to seduce an old woman, sweet-talking like that.“
I brought my hand to my mouth in an expression of feigned shock. “Oh no, Mistress. I would not dare seduce an old woman. You on the other hand...” I puckered my lips.
“Really girl, you have a no shame,” she said with a smirk. “ Your mouth will get you in trouble one of these days. No wonder you carry a gag around your neck. Perhaps I should put it in right now, keep you out of trouble.”
I tried to ignore the fact my mouth was suddenly dry. I giggled instead.“If you are the one who would put it in my mouth, I would be more than happy to accept it, Mistress.”
“But I would not do it myself, my dear. I'm a high-born lady, I would not lower myself to manual labour. I have staff to do that for me.” She spoke amused. I could hear Jeanne and Bernadette snigger close behind me.
That made me feel really uncomfortable. I felt like I was treading on thin ice. One false step and Mistress would sic her maids on me.
“That is okay, Mistress. It would be enough just to know you paid attention to me,” I said.
“Aww, is that so? You simply want attention? Then come here girl. Give your Mistress a kiss. Jeanne? Bernadette? That will be all, thank you.”
I heard the two maids leave the room as I tittered up to Mistress. She did not get out of her chair, simply letting me bend over and give her a kiss on her lips. I felt one hand go around the back of my head and the other to my bra. She pulled me closer as her tongue went into my mouth, while her other hand gently fondled my breasts. I gasped at the touch. I felt myself get excited beneath my skirt.
She let go and leaned back in her chair while I postured myself in my sissy-stance. She looked at me with content. “Well, then I guess there is no harm in letting you frolic around in that attire,” she said with a wicked grin.
After our kiss, she got up from her chair and went about her business. Turned on the TV, while she checked her mail, doing nothing strange.
Which in itself was very strange indeed, and I had no idea what to think about it. She appeared to completely ignore me, save for the fact that her eyes occasionally wandered in my direction.
I saw her frown. She was getting impatient.
Then I understood. I was to not supposed to do what she said – well, I was, but not just that – I was supposed to do sissy stuff without her direction. Letting me frolic around, as she called it so colourfully.
And frolic, I did.
At first I just minced up and down the room, showing of my perfected sissy gait despite my bondage. I did not have to keep my elbows at my side, my outfit did that for me, but I swung my hands slightly and daintily with every step. My ankle chain jingled as I minced to and fro, my behind swaying seductively.
This amused Mistress. For a while, at least. It wasn't long until I saw her holding her crop again as she eyed me. I had to do something else to keep her content. I had to get creative, submerge myself further in my role as infatuated little bimbo.
I saw a spider crawling on the windowsill. It was a common garden spider, brown with some white markings. It wasn't a particularly big one either.
As a child I was always fascinated by spiders. I fearlessly picked them up to have a closer look. Sometimes I would even take them home and show my mother, much to her dismay.
But that was a long time ago. Now it looked like some horrible alien monstrosity, with eight crooked legs and a freakishly large abdomen.
I shrieked in fright.
I startled Mistress. “Cheryl?” I heard her ask. But I did not respond. As fast as my heels and chain would allow, still squealing in disgust, I fled from the beast. I somehow managed to climb a low footstool, balancing precariously as I alternated raising one leg so the spider could not possibly climb up my legs. I pushed my skirt down hard, so my vulnerable clitty was protected from the monster.
“What are you doing up there, girl?” Mistress said sternly, as she walked up to me.
“It's horrible, Mistress!” I wailed. “A spider! There on the windowsill.” I felt I was about to cry as I pointed to the brute, which Mistress probably barely saw as a tiny dark speck on the wood.
“You are afraid of a spider?” She asked incredulously as she walked to the window, fearlessly picking up the vile animal. “This little thing?”
“Please Mistress, get rid of it. It's horrible.” I felt the tears in my eyes. “Save me.”
Mistress smiled widely as she opened the window and with a flick of her wrist threw out the spider. Casually she walked towards me, and I noticed the crop she was holding in her left hand.
She offered me her hand, and gracefully I accepted it.
“You saved me, Mistress,” I said with an excited tone, eyes wide with admiration.
“Of course, my dear. I wouldn't let anything happen to my cute guest. You can come down now.” She tapped my leg with her crop.
As elegantly as possible with the ankle chain, I stepped down.
She was still smiling when I rearranged my dress, regaining my composure after the horrible experience. I felt Mistress' eyes on me, and I shyly avoided her gaze.
I bit my lip and fumbled with my fingers. I inadvertently glanced at her, and she caught me with her eyes. I wiped away a stray lock of hair from my face.
Then I suddenly kissed her on the lips.
I had surprised her; that was clear as she backed up slightly. Heck, I had surprised myself! Mistress quickly regained the initiative though, as she leaned forward, her arms wrapping around me. I could feel her tongue forcefully entering my mouth.
As she kissed me, her hand went to my breast and gently squeezed it. I felt a warm tingle radiate from it. My clitty got excited, touching the soft fabric of my petticoats underneath my skirt. And if I did not know better, it seemed Mistress was excited too. But as she pulled me closer, I knew the hardness I felt under her skirt was actually a strapon.
Without warning she released me and pulled back. “That is enough, Cheryl,” she said with a wicked grin.
I was flustered at the sudden interruption. I must have been very deep in character, because I truly felt disappointed. It must have shown on my face.
“We have all week, my dear. No need to rush.” She pinched my cheek.
I blushed. Not just from being patronized, but also realization when hit me of what just happened. Was I really scared of a spider? And I just voluntarily kissed this dreadful woman! The ease at which I had slipped into character was very concerning.
Not that I broke character though. The rest of the day I was a perfect little bimbo to my Mistress. When she showed me around the estate, I was suitably impressed. I must have sounded like a bunny being shown around the playboy mansion for the first time. I giggled and squealed at the remarkable sights of the old mansion and its large garden. The fact that Mistress would occasionally fondle me beneath my dress exacerbated it.
I asked questions a only toddler would ask. “That wall looks old. I bet it's old. Is it old, Mistress? It will not collapse, I hope.”, “That is a lovely fountain, Mistress. That marble fish looks funny. Isn't it supposed to spew water? Is it turned off?”, “What nice line-up of bronze statues, Mistress. Are they of real people? Important people? Are they family?”, “What a lovely portrait. Is that you, Mistress? How old were you when it was painted?”
She was initially very amused by my exaggerated ignorance, but at some point she sighed and rolled her eyes as she spoke: “Now I understand why you wear that gag around, my dear. You really do talk too much.”
“I am sorry, Mistress,” I answered with a conflicted giggle. “I do not want to talk too much. But I do not want to wear a gag either. Unless you want me to. Then I would love to wear it.”
“No need. I have a better idea to put that motor-mouth of yours to good use,” I couldn't suppress a nervous shudder as she grinned at me.
And shortly after that, I was kneeling in front of her, her strapon in my mouth. My lips running tightly over the length of the dildo while she was reading a magazine. It was a big magazine, and it took her a long time to finish.
After dinner she retired to the salon, and of course I joined her, trying to keep up with her pace despite being hobbled. Sitting on her sofa, drinking a cup of herbal tea, we discussed the various delights of being a sissy. I explained her at length how great it was I could wear uncomfortable and sticky latex underwear, and how I could wear to my heart's content bondage that bound my arms and legs.
At some point, she interrupted my babbling and asked me a question.
“Tell me, Cheryl,” Mistress said. “Are you a boy or a girl?”
I was a bit perplexed by this question, because she already knew the answer. “Neither, Mistress. I am a sissy. I look and dress like a girl, but I can never grow up to be a woman.” I smiled my dutiful smile as I spoke.
“But if you were to choose between the two, you'd be a girl then?”
“Oh yes, Mistress. I have some boyish... features... But I look like a girl, walk like a girl and talk like a girl. So I must be a girl.”
“Well, there is one way to find out for sure,” she said with a wicked smile. She twirled around the crop she had been carrying around all day.
“Mistress?” I asked confused.
Her content smile that she had worn all day was suddenly gone. Her eyes were wicked now. Malicious even. I started to get anxious.
“You see, Cheryl. In my life I've known both men and women. And the differences between the two aren't nearly so obvious as you might imagine.”
She looked me up and down, then smiled mockingly. “Well, perhaps you could imagine it quite well. But there is one thing that invariably separates men from women.”
“Which is, Mistress?” I asked wondering.
She chuckled. “Even at their best men can only orgasm two times in a row. Tops. After which they get soft and ask you if it was the best fuck you've ever had. Then they turn around and fall asleep. Not that I blame them, It's just the way a man works. 'La petite mort', it is called. The little death.”
A dreamy expression came over her face. “But women... Oh, we are blessed with multiple orgasms. We can go on forever.”
She focused on me again, the wickedness radiating from her face. “So you are saying that a sissy-boy like you is actually a girl? Prove it then! Have more than two orgasms.”
“What? Right now, Mistress?” I asked incredulously.
“Sure, why not.” She tilted her head a bit. “You know what? Let's make this interesting. We are going to make a game out of it. You are to orgasm three times as a sissy. If you do, you win. As your prize I'll allow you to watch TV for an hour without me bothering you. If you lose, we'll spend that time in the penalty box.”
I gasped. A cold shiver went down my spine.
“Any questions? No? Good. Let the game begin,” she said grinning.
I hesitated, unsure what to do. Did she really just ask me to play with myself?
Mistress watched me expectantly, clearly amused by my discomfort.
I took a deep breath and tried to smile. With my hand I reached under my skirt.
Pain shot through my hand. I shrieked as painful heat radiated from the spot where Mistress' crop had hit my skin.
“WHAT do you think you are doing, Cheryl?” She sneered.
I felt tears in my eyes as I rubbed my sore skin. “Mistress? You just told me to...”
“No cheating! You must orgasm as a sissy,” she said severely. “You may play with your little hole, your boobs, your mouth, but do not touch your clitty. That right belongs to your Mistress alone.”
My jaw dropped. She couldn't be serious! I was to come three times in a row without actually touching my privates?
“Well, what are you waiting for? Giving up already?”
“No, Mistress...” I said uncertainly.
“Go on then. If you take too long, you'll forfeit the game.” Her smile was disconcerting.
Slowly, reluctantly, I did as I was told. My hands went up to my breasts, and I began to rub them.
“Good place to start,” Mistress commented with a smug tone.
I gently pinched my nipples and squeezed my breasts through the latex of my bra, the clamps underneath transmitting the feeling to my real chest. I felt something radiate from my bosom. I closed my eyes as I worked, feeling something tingle in my clitty.
And soon my hands began to find their way to other parts of my body. My outfit squeaked as my latex gloves stroked my stockings. Mistress kept close watch, but did not mind me touching the insides of my thighs. I don't know when I put my fingers in my mouth, but I tasted the flavour of the material as I slowly sucked on it. I hear Mistress chuckle.
I did not want to, but I knew it had to be done. When my gloved finger was wet enough, I got on my knees, my torso leaning against the back of the sofa, and my heels sticking out over the cushion, chain dangling slack in between. I lifted my skirt at the back and my finger found the opening at the back of my panties. I gasped as my finger found its mark. Mistress grunted approvingly.
I think I moaned as one hand teased my breasts, the other my behind. I felt how hard my clitty was, the soft material of the petticoat tickling its tip.
I did not notice that Mistress was suddenly behind me. “Do not make a mess, dear,” she said as she reached around me, lifting my skirt. I felt her put something around my clitty; a condom most likely.
At some point my body shuddered as I came. I felt tired as I withdrew from myself.
“That's one down, two to go,” Mistress spoke cheerfully.
The second time was more difficult. I stroked, touched and teased, but using my hands just wasn't enough anymore. My fear of the penalty box was rising.
Mistress laughed at my increasing desperation. “Don't worry, Cheryl. You may use these.”
In my left hand she put a dildo. In my right a vibrator.
What can I say? I used them on both ends. And it worked. Eventually.
“Just one more,” Mistress said grinning.
“Yes Mistress, “ I replied. But I felt tired. Drained. I felt I could no longer lift my toys. I told Mistress.
She raised her left eyebrow. “Are you giving up?” She asked me.
“No Mistress!” I said frightened “I can orgasm again. It's just... I'm just a sissy. I do not... er... have the... strength... yes, the strength to hold my toys for long.”
She smiled. “Nice save, my dear. Tell you what? I will help.”
“You would?” I asked surprised.
She shrugged as she smiled patronizingly. “I never said you couldn't ask me for assistance.” Then her eyes grew stern. “But keep in mind I'm not some man who will just put his cock in you. You will have to tempt me, and then keep me interested.”
I nodded. I took a deep breath and tried to gather whatever energy I had left. Thoughts of the penalty box drifted around in the back of my head, but I ignored them. I forced a smile on my face.
I got on my hands and knees and, in spite of my bonds, I slowly crawled over the couch towards Mistress, smiling lustful and seductively. Mistress returned my smile with a voracious one.
“Oh Mistress, you look so strong tonight. So powerful,” I said. “And I am so weak. A weak little sissy. May I feel your power inside me?”
Part of me couldn't believe I was asking this woman to put her strapon in me, but that part was quickly silenced by my desire to avoid the penalty box.
“You want my power, my dear?” She replied. “What would I get in return?”
I crawled up to her. “Anything you can claim, Mistress.” Then I kissed her on the lips. This she had anticipated, and her tongue was waiting for me. One of her hands went op to my boobs. The other still held the crop, and she guided its tip beneath my skirt. I shivered as I felt the mean item touch my privates, but she just slowly tickled my clitty with it.
“No. It will be something I'll give you...” She said ominously.
It wasn't easy with my bound arms, but I reached under her leather skirt and lifted its hem, revealing the strapon underneath. I withdrew from her lips and lowered my head.
“Christina taught you very well,” she said as my head went up and down slowly.
I looked up into her eyes, smiling thankfully with the tip of the dildo still in my mouth. Then continued.
I withdrew my mouth, then said: “Mistress, you are so powerful. So long, and so hard...” I quickly put my lips around the penetrator again.
She put her hand on the back of my head. “Cheryl, if I valued your judgement, I would take that dildo out of your mouth,” she admonished, but she didn't sound annoyed.
When the strapon was wet and slick, she pulled my head back and turned me around on the sofa. I was on all fours as she knelt behind me, lifting my skirt and petticoats. I felt her put the tip though the opening of my latex panties, pressing it against my hole.
She applied pressure, my chain jingling as I kicked my legs slightly, and then entered me. She started rocking back and forth, then slowed down.
“I told you to keep me interested, sissy,” she said severely. “Do not just kneel there. Be active.”
I thought about that for a moment. She had impaled me on her strapon. What could I possibly do in this position?
Well, I could humiliate myself further, I concluded. “Mistress, you are so long, and so hard...” I said sweetly.
“Better, but hardly original,” she spoke chuckling, then increased her pace again.
I followed her motions, until one hand grabbed my shoulder and pulled me against her. The tip of her crop stroked the side of my face, then went down to my breasts.
She gave my nipple a short but sharp tab, making me yelp. I didn't hurt much, but it startled me. I pulled forward, but Mistress pulled me back again.
The next strike hit my thigh. “Ow! Mistress!” I squealed.
Immediately after, I gasped as she pushed hard, the dildo going in deep. “It is just a love tap, my dear. My price for helping you. Do not fight it,” Mistress said as she pulled back again.
And I didn't. But I did squirm and squeal and kick and groan as she struck me repeatedly. And Mistress loved it, each time rewarding me with a combination of soft touches and deep thrusts.
It was so unreal. She was screwing my little hole with her dildo, hitting me with her crop, her hands all over me. By all rights I should be weeping, but I was getting excited. I felt warmth flow through my body and the pounding of my heart seemed to echo in my mind.
I don't know when I stopped squealing and started spurring on my Mistress.
“Mistress, you are so long! And so hard!” I yelled as she took me from behind. I heard her laugh victoriously.
She kept laughing as she pumped me, and was still laughing as I came.
I was completely drained and barely noticed her removing my condom. She sat me down on her lap, smiling gleefully as she kissed me on the lips. I tried to smile but was too tired to make it look sincere. She looked me in the eyes. “Congratulations, my dear! You've won. You are a girl. I never doubted that even for a moment.”
Mistress was true to her word. She gave me another kiss and turned on the television for me, leaving the room soon after. I was just sitting on the couch, not really looking at the Swiss show that I couldn't understand anyway.
I felt pretty relieved though. I had managed to avoid the penalty box. For now, at least. And I did orgasm more often in one night than I ever had before. Still, Mistress hardly looked surprised at my victory. Or disappointed for that matter. And it was only the first day of a long week...
Jeanne and Bernadette came to collect me exactly one hour later. I was escorted to my room and prepared for bed. They stripped me of my outfit and removed my false breasts and nipple clamps. If I had hoped I could spend the night without them, I was sorely mistaken. After inspecting my real nipples and applying an ointment, the clamps were reattached, and so were the breasts.
After cleaning me up and putting me in my night corset and babydoll, Bernadette tied me down to the bed again. I do not know it was my fatigue or simple resignation with my fate, but I did not resist or complain.
Mistress came to kiss me good night.
“I hope you enjoyed yourself today, Cheryl. I certainly did. Tomorrow will be even better. I promise.” Her smile was frightening.