TEST: to check if you are ready for your first assignment you must watch the first two minutes of this video.
If your mouth starts watering at that juicy thick cock and you feel jealousy as she unzips his bulging flies then this sissy secretary assignment is perfect for you.
Remember: no fiddling with your sissy clit is allowed. Any fiddling will mean you are kicked off this assignment.
…you have been selected as a trainee sissy secretary. Your mistress has found you work as a personal asiistant. You’ll be meeting your (strict) boss within the hour. But which style would best choose your personality?
Now it’s time for this week’s true story about the first sissy who completed this assignment.
A successful lawyer comes home to find her unemployed boyfriend masturbating to sissy porn. She devizes a brutal 3 part punishment.
1. He is chastised and made to work as her maid in the morning.
2. He is feminized and sent to work as a transgender secretary in the afternoon.
3. He is mercilessly cuckolded at night and must clean up her lover’s cum.
1. Caught in the act.
It’s common in most stories for the moral to come at the end of the tale, but just in case you’re pressed for time I’ll give it to you now: it’s called the no exceptions rule.
The no exceptions rule is that when home alone, a naughty sissy should always lock the front door from inside, just in case his spouse or girlfriend comes home unexpectedly and catches him doing naughty things. And here’s the important part: no exceptions. It doesn’t matter if she’s at work, or her mother’s, or she passed away last Friday in a tragic accident… you lock the door no matter what. That way, while she may get suspicious you left your keys in the door, you’ve got time to cease whatever naughty thing you’re doing and think up an excuse.
Just like all sissies, I knew the main body of the rule – lock your door from the inside – but unfortunately, I’d never heard of the no exceptions part, and that was my fatal error: an exception. My girlfriend called me from the airport and as far as I was concerned that was as good as on the plane, so I didn’t lock the door. I then went to a secret hiding place and took out the instruments of my pleasure: a satin chemise and a black, veiny dildo.
Even when I lock the door, I rarely do what I did that afternoon: hooked my laptop up to our enormous widescreen in the lounge. Beaming out sissy porn across an eighty-five-inch screen doesn’t sit well with me but as she was on her way to a legal conference in Newcastle, I could allow myself an exception. I put on the satin nightie, hooked up my laptop and started watching a movie in which a sissy maid is forced to suck a well hung stud. Cleverly wedging the dildo between two cushions I adopted the canine position, but quickly went from canine to equestrian as I started riding said dildo like it was the charge of the light brigade – which is an appropriate analogy as I was riding to my doom.
That was one thirty PM.
At one thirty-five I moved the sofa because doggy position meant I was facing straight ahead with the television on my right. I was getting a crick. What happened next is a little hazy because the trauma seems to have caused some kind of memory blackout, but I do remember those immortal words: “yes mistress, I’m a little sissy cock sucker.”
Why did I even say that? Why did I have to repeat what was said in the movie? It was a symptom of my descent into porn addiction that I had taken to mouthing things out loud. This time, however, was different…
…I had an audience.
The next thing I remember was a flash. A camera flash. I looked towards its source and there my girlfriend was with her phone in hand, standing in the doorway with a flight bag at her feet. And there I was – on all fours, riding an 8-inch black dildo with eighty-five inches of sissy porn in front of me, wearing a satin chemise.
The fact she took a photo is an excellent way to introduce you to my girlfriend, Elle Mesen. She was a smart, 28-year-old corporate lawyer whose ruthlessness in defence of clients was gaining her notoriety and respect at her firm. Well accustomed to people disputing the facts, she had the habit of photographing anything controversial – restaurant bills, accidents, damaged goods, anything and everything. In this case, it was absolutely typical of her – no matter how shocked she was – to immediately get it on camera. Now it was on camera, she got down to the business of being shocked.
“What the fuck?” she screamed.
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