Silken Embrace

by Christina Shelly

  Finally, the sheath is stretched tightly over his balls and snapped into place. He looks down at his pink-coloured cock in amazement, and it is only now that he notices that the restrainer is covered in what seems to be a pattern of tiny light-silver-coloured veins that are only really visible at a certain angle in the strong white light of the room.

  ‘Now the rings.’

  It is the gorgeous brown-eyed hermaphrodite who then steps forward and takes three silver rings of slightly varying size from the metal table. She walks confidently over to Pansy and stands only a few feet from Peter. She is taller than him in the low-heeled boots, and there is an athleticism to her wonderfully pneumatic figure that is perfectly expressed by the tight contours of the body suit.

  She looks at Peter with warm hungry eyes and he feels her desire like a hand gripping his throat. In her hunger, and in the very similar look of Pansy, Peter sees an addiction, a terrible uncontrollable sexual need that seems induced by some hidden force. These gorgeous creatures are not only desiring in a normal human way, they have been programmed in some indefinable biological sense to desire with a power beyond what might be described as conventional human physical sexual need.

  She hands the largest of the rings to Pansy, who takes it from her elegant hands with a slightly nervous smile. Then, to Peter’s surprise, she clicks the top section of the ring open and, to his far greater surprise, slips it around his rubber-sealed balls. Then she snaps the ring shut and an immediate uncomfortable pressure is applied which makes his balls bulge and strain desperately in their tight teasing rubber prison.

  As poor Peter moans with significant trepidation into the panty gag, Pansy fixes the next two, smaller rings in exactly the same way – one to the base of his cock and one just beneath the straining fat head. Thus, his cock is tightly wrapped and cruelly locked. Full erection is now just not impossible, but painful.

  Pansy releases a satisfied sigh and stands up. As she does so, her petticoats once again brush against his tormented cock and it expands towards full erection. And as it does so, the true power of his cruel restraint becomes apparent. The rings press painfully into the stiffening meat and he squeals with a mixture of shock and outrage, a squeal that induces cruel laughter in the two women and sympathetic, yet also aroused looks from Pansy and her body-suited colleague.

  So now he is plugged and restrained and gagged, his cock sealed in rubber and metal, his arse filled with a harder rubber, his mouth stuffed with his mother’s sex-perfumed panties. Every orifice filled; all control surrendered. Now he is ready for the next stage of sinister and endlessly erotic feminisation.

  The French woman turns to Pansy, a satisfied and provocative smile lighting up her beautiful, if stern face. ‘Now we can begin the dressing. Christina can help.’

  Pansy performs a very deep and exact curtsey, flashing her be-frilled panties not so much for her Mistress but for the widening tormented eyes of poor Peter.

  Pansy and Christina – the gorgeous honey-eyed she-male – totter over to the large long wardrobe and slide back its wide thick white wood doors. A strange, anticipatory silence now fills the room.

  Inside the wardrobe is a very long row of truly spectacular and ultra-sissy girl dresses. This is immediately and shockingly apparent: an explosion of elaborate and highly fetishistic attire whose function is horrifyingly clear: the envelopment of the male form in the most aggressive and unforgiving form of infantile femininity.

  The dresses, perhaps more than anything else so far experienced, spell out the true nature of Peter’s fate. And this is driven home dramatically when Pansy selects the dress closest to her – a masterful confection of cream silk – and holds it teasingly before Peter.

  Pansy wiggle minces back across the rubber-matted floor with the dress held in her arms. Peter’s eyes are glued to the dress and its carrier with manic intensity. He moans helplessly into the pungent panty gag as she brings the dress within a few feet and then, once again, holds it before him.

  A more detailed analysis reveals its true perverse brilliance. It is made from a very fine, yet sturdy and obviously expensive white silk. It has long straight arms with puffed and frilled sleeves. The bodice section is in fact a form of elaborately designed silk-sheathed corset and, although there are a few rear buttons leading from the neck to the middle of the back of the dress, they give way to a set of white silk laces running from the middle back to the edge of the wide and very short skirt of the dress. The skirt itself rests on a broader cloud of frou-frou petticoating made from layers of very fine lace-trimmed netting. The neck to the dress is very high and crowned with thick white lace. Yes, a true masterpiece of ultra-sissification and a gorgeous example of the design style of the Sissy Maids Company.

  Pansy very carefully places the dress over the white wooden chair by the metal table. Then Christina steps into view with a pile of equally stunning sissy underwear.

  She kneels down and places the underwear by Peter’s nylon-wrapped feet. Then she stands up, holding what at first appears to be another body glove of sheer white nylon. However, closer inspection reveals the glove to be something rather different: a white nylon body stocking with arms and legs. Their eyes meet and she sees the same helpless powerful desire he had seen in his bedroom and also in Pansy’s eyes. The two she-males appear permanently tormented by a deep sex need.

  He watches with widening eyes as Christina proceeds to pull open the neck of the stocking and bunch its entire length into a bowl.

  ‘The stocking is made from Senso nylon,’ the French woman explains. ‘Senso is the key to the practical realisation of our philosophy of desire. It has certain biochemical properties that allow the material to stimulate the male hormonal system. This allows a direct and very powerful association to be created between the Senso material and sexual excitement and thus establish an extreme and quite irresistible fetish. Feminisation leads to submission and thus the association of the act of submission with arousal. And thus, control is assured.’

  Peter is made to slip his feet into the soft nylon bowl, and then Christina begins to draw the stocking up his body. At first it is a rather ill-defined mist of sheer white nylon, but soon the legs begin to take shape and the electric material envelopes his freshly denuded skin in the most erotic of embraces. Then he feels it. At first, a minor rather pleasant tingling, but then a terrible physical stimulation of terrifying power. It is as if his legs were being covered in a thousand silken kisses. He squeals with shock and a dark overwhelming pleasure into the panty gag. His cock responds by straining furiously and thus cutting through the dreadful and so intimately physical stimulation with a bolt of awful, almost sickening pain.

  As his body is once again submerged in the teasing beauty of sheer nylon, he begins truly to understand the power of Senso. Suddenly, his being is consumed by sex fire. Suddenly, every person and object around him has a fierce intense reality, a concentration of focus that makes him aware of the material world in a way that he had never previously believed possible. He is alive as a pure sex being, burning with a savage and fundamental sexual desire.

  His eyes seem to stretch out of his head and behold the true vision that is Pansy. It is almost as if his gaze has become physical and is now caressing her buxom perfect form. Just by looking at her, he can feel her. He is astonished and in a blissful agony.

  And by the time the stocking has been firmly positioned, by the time his body has been sealed in the teasing nylon second skin so that he is able to stand on two feet and stretch two arms down at his side, he is in a state of almost hallucinatory ecstasy. He moans into the gag and begs for release. Yet it is not release he is to be given, but a sudden, even more teasing shock. For as soon as the stocking is in place, Pansy, her eyes filled with mischievous perversion, slips a long pink-nailed hand between his legs and into a previously unseen opening placed directly over his engorged and tormented sex. Then, to his utter horror, she grasps Peter’s rubber-imprisoned sex and pulls it rather roughly through the lace-fri
lled hole, leaving its violent tumescence for all to see.

  The cruel smiles on the faces of the two women say it all. This is, surely, his most spectacular and brutal humiliation and, as Pansy’s hands run eagerly over the rubber- and metal-sealed length, he squeals a terrible and expertly muffled plea for release from this dreadful yet also unbearably pleasurable torment.

  Yet release is furthest from either Pansy or Christina’s mind. Indeed, as soon as poor Peter’s large tormented sex is fully revealed and is swaying desperately before them, Christina produces a pair of the frilliest white silk panties that Peter – after years of carefully studying his mother’s panties – has ever seen. Yet these are not any normal panties, a fact that is made strikingly clear when Christina holds them up before Peter’s wide sex-filled eyes: for at the front of this sea of elegant frilling is a long, also frilled sheath attachment, also of soft shimmering white silk.

  Christina, a wicked hungry smile igniting her beautiful face, kneels once again. Peter, sinking deeper in the teased Senso sex trance, steps into the panties. He feels the frilled edges brush against his nylon-enveloped legs and squeals with an agonising pleasure that sends a seismic shock of dark desire crashing across his feminised form. There is surely no hope now: he is lost to the fiendish delights of Senso and to the all-powerful demands of the Bigger Picture.

  Christina pulls the panties up over his furious sex and then positions them tightly yet snugly around his waist. Then she eases his rubberised sex inside the silken sheath that is in fact a part of the panties. The frilled sheath is soon filled to bursting point and rising up at an angle so severe that the tip of his cock is nearly touching his stomach. And as he looks down in an almost mindless astonishment at the strange thing that his sex is becoming, he notices that the head of the sheath – like the rubber cock glove beneath it – is covered in a fine film of micro-netting.

  After the panties comes a white rubber micro-corset. Christina fits this quickly, wrapping it around his nylon-sealed waist and securing it tightly with pink rubber cord lacing that forces the air from his lungs and adds a sense of extreme, yet strangely comforting restriction.

  And after the corset comes the dress, the amazing spectacular dress, held aloft with an erotic enthusiasm by the gorgeous doe-eyed Pansy. Poor Peter, his blood boiling with uncontrollable sex rage, looks at this profound symbol of ultra-sissification and feels his thighs push together with a dark delight, thus pushing the plug even deeper into his tormented and furiously aroused arse.

  The back of the dress reveals a series of beautiful white pearl buttons that have been removed from their silk-edged eyes so that the dress can be opened up. Pansy kneels before the tormented moaning Peter and gently tells him to step into the dress. He obeys, his heart thumping, nervous anticipation rippling across his nylon-sheathed body. Then Pansy begins to draw the dress up his body. This is a darkly sado-erotic consumption – he is being devoured by the delicate elegant symbols of an extreme and unyielding femininity.

  As the dress encloses his body, he notices a strange and disturbing fact of its perverse and complex design missed during his first teased viewing: the wide, very short skirt section is open at the front, or rather the front section has been carefully removed so that as it is pulled up over his nyloned body, his silk-sheathed sex, so angrily and obviously erect, is left completely exposed. And as Pansy slips the dress over his shoulders and begins carefully to button it tightly into position around his tormented body, he also notices that there is a small pink plastic hook set into the dress just above the open front section.

  Then the last button is secured and he is fully and rather wondrously enveloped in the dress. He looks down at his sissified form and at the hard stiff silken-sheathed sex emerging from its centre, and feels a strange sense of inner calm; it is as if, for the first time in a long time, he is comfortable with himself, a thought that fills him with a mysterious and arousing serenity.

  Christina then steps up, armed with a slender pink nylon ribbon. Their eyes meet again and she smiles with that same teasing warmth that had been so confusingly apparent in his bedroom. Very carefully, she then wraps the ribbon around the head of his arched hungry cock and uses its free ends to attach it tightly to the plastic ring set into the front of the dress, tying a fat sissy bow in the process.

  He moans with pleasure and shock and looks up into her dark gaze with a terrible confession of deep intense longing. Her smile widens and he feels a powerful adoring attraction to this mysterious she-male beauty. His eyes fall upon her substantial chest, its perfect firm curves made stunningly apparent by the tight body suit, and he imagines worshipping her breasts with a freed and loving mouth.

  The rest of the dressing happens quickly, but with an even more powerful impact. Pansy adds fingerless rubber-lined silk mittens – colour-coded to the dress exactly. She pulls them up over his hands and secures them tightly with silk ribbons fretted through the fabric of the sleeves.

  Christina uses a lightly powdered sponge puff to add a touch of pink-tinged foundation to his cheeks, chin and forehead. Then she very carefully peels back the thick duct tape holding the panty gag in place. She extracts the panties and he gasps with a helpless relief. As he does so, he whispers a grateful ‘thank you’. Pansy smiles and places the wet panties on the metal table. She then proceeds to apply a dark pink lipstick to his helplessly pouting lips with considerable expertise. As she leans forward to add the finishing touches, her skirt once again brushes against his sensually imprisoned sex and he cannot resist a deep groan of angry pleasure.

  Pansy combs through his short dark hair and nods with satisfaction. Then, almost immediately, Christina appears armed with perhaps the most striking and challenging tool of this strange and erotic feminisation: a pair of pink patent leather ankle boots with shocking five-inch-high heels. Peter looks at the heels and his eyes widen with considerable alarm.

  ‘This is going to be a little testing, Petal. But it’s really a little bit like being unable to swim and then being chucked in the deep end of a swimming pool. Once you’re faced with the inescapable reality, you quickly adapt.’

  She kneels down before him once more and carefully slips his left delicately hosed foot inside the first boot. Pansy takes up a position at his right side, taking his mittened hand in her own and squeezing it in a surprisingly friendly and comforting manner.

  For a moment the sissy spectacle he is being made into is rather lopsided. He instinctively maintains balance with his right foot, but when this too is placed inside the elevated embrace of the second boot, he is quickly taken to a new and very frightening level of physical uncertainty. Suddenly, he is five inches taller. Suddenly, his entire body weight is being taken on two narrow sharp pointed metal heels, strange, sado-erotic stilts. As he sways, as fear fills his always girlish face, he is immediately reminded of his mother, of her endless supply of beautiful sexy high-heeled shoes, of how he had always been so fascinated by them, of the graceful accentuation her nylon-sheathed legs, of the simple but deadly effective mechanics of their erotic design. He recalls one dreadfully teasing incident when she had slipped off a pair of black patent leather court shoes with particularly vicious and thus erotic heels and had stretched out her black nylon-sheathed toes before his stunned desperately fixed gaze, her feet still curved in the elegant intensely sensual shape demanded by the appallingly sexy shoes.

  His cock strains in its tight fetish bondage and his eyes widen with a desire-framed fear. The peril of this uncertain balance is truly arousing, but also quite terrifying, and suddenly he totters backwards. He squeals like a little girl and then Pansy is standing at his side, holding him upright, whispering sexy words of sissy reassurance.

  ‘Just try and relax. Find the centre of gravity. The point of perfect balance. It is there. You just need to let your body find it naturally.’

  Pansy’s words are soothing and also challenging. He smiles nervously and looks into her gorgeous blue eyes and feels a terribly positive desire fo
r this buxom she-male beauty.

  And, after a few minutes of careful balancing and a series of very nervous, highly tentative totters, there is a minor miracle: he is walking in the beautiful, so sexy high-heeled boots. But perhaps walking is the wrong word: the boots do not permit walking, but rather mincing, the tiny, tottering steps of a would-be sissy. He finds himself carefully placing one foot in front of another and being forced – in order to maintain his balance – to ensure that each step is as short and limited as possible. This has the immediate effect of producing a highly erotic rubbing together of his soft sheer nylon-wrapped knees and gently pushing the ever-teasing plug deeper into his tormented anus. At the same time, his hips sway and his bottom wiggles helplessly. And then there is the final dark (and rather delightful) humiliation: his imprisoned and leashed sex swaying and bouncing merrily before him like some maddened sex wand as the mistresses laugh and clap mockingly, and the she-males stare with wide aroused eyes.

  And yet even the addition of the amazing boots is not the end of this spectacular ritual of forced feminisation. For even before he has demonstrated so much as a basic proficiency of movement, Christina has quietly slipped back to the wardrobe to extract two final devastating items of Peter’s consummation: a delightfully intricate and outrageously infantile pink silk and satin bonnet and a deeply shocking and humiliating king-size dummy gag!

  Still coming to terms with the impact of the heels on his physical and mental being, it takes a few seconds for the reality of this next item of provoking transformation to enter fully his teased consciousness.

  Christina opens up the long pink silk flaps of the incredibly ornate bonnet with a teasing promising smile. Attached to each flap is a long thick length of pink silk ribbon. She extends the wide hood of the bonnet and then lowers it down over Peter’s head, her large firm breasts brushing against his chest as she does so. The flaps are pulled down over his ears and then tied together at the chin in a fat ultra-sissy bow with the two lengths of shimmering ribbon.