This week’s story is about you.
You see, after I’ve feminized you, I’m going to sell you to a stern, older man: the strong master you need.
I want you to imagine that you have just arrived at his house and he now asks you to stand before him.
You are right up close to Mister Banner’s massive chest. You can sense the heat coming from his body and the musky smell that emanates from it, seeping through the thin material of his cotton shirt. All your sissy life your sissy clit has got hard when you watch women do on TV what you now do.
You place your palms on his rippling chest and rub it slowly in small concentric circles. You’ve never felt anything so delicious before – the sheer hardness and breadth of his manly torso has your sissy clit swelling. Savouring every inch, you continue rubbing and touching and soaking up the smell of his manly body. You look up into your master’s eyes.
“Unbutton my shirt?” he orders sternly.
His top button is already undone so you go for the second, fingers trembling with the desire to discover more of that powerful mass of muscle.
Because you have always been so attracted to the idea of being a woman, you find women attractive, but as you stand before your master’s barrel chest and undo his shirt button by button you finally know what it is you truly want: a man…a big, strapping, older man like this.
It is like being reborn and your quivering hands explore the twisted hairs and deep contours of his muscly chest. You marvel at how right your mistress was: you needed a master not a mistress. And, having realised you belong with a man, you immediately feel that man pushing you downwards to your rightful place.
“Get on your knees, you little whore.”
“Yes, Master,” you answer.
You are now face to face with that bulging crotch. You’ve never been so close to a man’s crotch before and you lick your sissy lips in anticipation. Being in a kneeling position is straining the straps of your garter belt beneath the shiny pencil skirt. Your little nipples are almost painful they are so erect, poking through your satin blouse like two pencil points.
“Take it out, whore!”