by Tina Majors
Well, what more could I do, I couldn’t literally force myself to remember something I had forgotten now could I?
I did some generally tidying, keeping a watchful eye on the time and then decided enough was enough and poured myself a glass of water and infused it with a slice of lemon.
It was just what I needed to cool me down.
I turned on the television and by some chance it happened to be on the channel that regularly shows Simpsons episodes old and new. All sane people agree that The Simpsons hasn’t been good for years, apart from a brief renaissance a few years back, but I thought why not I’ll give it a go and see if it helps me to relax and take my mind off things.
My mind was swirling, but possibly the family known as Springfield’s Finest would help?
Well, it was a new-ish episode, from 2013 as the description told me on screen, and it is fair and true to say that the laughs were thin on the ground, almost as thin as the non-existent plot.
I barely cracked a grin, which was sad, but it did prompt me to think back and remember what it was about this show that I used to love back in the day, as they say. It used to be a programme that was woven together so seamlessly, like it was made by the finest Turkish rug expert. The way that the jokes flowed and made you laugh with the family and their up and down exploits was both comical and empathetic; this was lacking in the newer episodes which just seemed as if they were all about exposing Homer Simpson (the titular patriarch) as a grotesque stereotype rather than a fully three dimensional character with his own hopes and dreams.
I think I must have seen the classic episodes at least a dozen times each, possibly more in some cases (and less in others, if you can catch onto that somewhat scatological drift), and I could almost recite some of the episodes line by line – of course, I am exaggerating, but I think spiritually and non-literally I could, in so much as I understood the episodes and felt them so deeply.
Anyway, as I continued to watch this episode I did consider switching over and seeing what else was on but in the end I decided to stick it out. There was a reasonably funny joke about the fallen Hollywood and TV actor Charlie Sheen, but even this felt like it lacked a certain funny-stick moment, you know the kind that really tickles your satirical ribs, really gets you guffawing like a giraffe who has just gestated some funny grass, if you know what I mean?
Well, yes, but the episode did indeed come to an end and I felt as if I had been put out of my misery at this fallen giant of comedy. It got me thinking, perhaps the show itself should be taken and removed out of its misery (yes, I am talking about it being cancelled!)?
Only time would tell.
After the somewhat disappointing episode of The Simpsons that served to confirm my thoughts that the programme was firmly past its sell by date, I flicked through the channels available on my full package rather aimlessly. In truth, there were other things on my mind, but I thought it best to keep myself occupied with other things for the moment.
I tried watching a film about a robot that had developed a conscience and found it a little dull although the world the director had created was brought to life fairly effectively and some of the minor characters seemed to have been given a fair bit of background thought as they seemed elevated beyond the usual one dimensional cardboard cut-out that you can expect to see in a lot of Hollywood fare.
Anyway, as I say, the film was not exactly grabbing me by the nuts so after a bit I continued on my channel hopping (and why is it called hopping? I don’t know where that phrase came from, but it doesn’t quite work for me, but plus la change as they say!) and came across a programme about individuals who enjoyed testing themselves in the most extreme conditions imaginable such as ice, wind, fire, heat, proximity to deadly gasses. It was a strange programme and the fast editing style was off putting in that it didn’t allow the danger of the moment to be realised effectively, nor any suspense to be built.
I guess perhaps I just wasn’t the target audience, although I certainly did know a thing or two about situations that are outside of the norm!
Well, as you can imagine, I continued my channel cruise (see what I did there?) and ended up watching an episode of one of these reality shows were drunk young people end up making absolute fools of themselves when put together in a house and provided with copious amounts of alcohol.
It was an interesting watch I suppose, although it was clear that the producers had a heavy hand in putting the various scenarios in place and guiding the action to meet their own ratings-fuelled requirements.
I let the programme play out and seeing that there were several episodes back to back thought I may as well leave it on this channel in case anything humorous or outrageous happened. ‘Whatever keeps your mind off things’ as some Greek philosopher probably, or not, or maybe(!), said. I was in a funny mood, perhaps understandably.
I am not what you would call a music nerd, a muso, a deep cut enthusiast of any of the myriad genres of music. But yes I do like to listen to what takes my fancy and am open minded to recommendations. This means that I did deem it worthy to shell out a little bit of my hard earned money on a sound system (aka a speaker in today’s contemporary parlance) that would do justice to whatever it was I was playing.
Well, the system I had had some very respectable performance for what would be described as a mid range product, but the base had scored very highly and it was clear why.
Annabelle certainly approved, luckily for me.
On this basis, I would often find myself seeking out music with good base, so a lot of it was genres like thumping house or deep funk. I also liked hip hop music as well.
So my collection was definitely eclectic but with a definite flavour of urban tunes.
My raving days were over, well to tell the truth I was never much a fan of the classic rave or the nu rave, I much preferred listening to music by myself in the comfort of my own home. The thing I hated about the rave scene was all the people, invariably tripping off their heads on narcotics, and the punishing and inescapable noise. When listening at home, either on headphones or direct from the speaker, I could listen at a level that wouldn’t threaten the safety of my eardrums, would allow me to think, and of course – I had the luxury of the pause button, or the OFF button for that matter.
Yes, chilling over some smooth acid grooves with a salsa kick in the pleasure of my own home beat the pants of venturing out (and paying a bloody fortune!) to listen to the same tunes and some renovated tram stop or underground car garage.
It probably goes without saying but I wasn’t a fan of shelling out all the money on the grotesquely over inflated prices on the drinks either. Why pay a five for a can, when I could by six and drink at home for the same price! I would go out a lot to the pub with mates, I was into that, but I really always avoided the club scene as much as I could and ended up with mates with similar taste to me – I’m just saying that to avoid you thinking of me as a crazed loon recluse! Well, maybe I do have that gene in me a little, but you get my drift.
Listen to me, I’m rambling.
I looked at my clock, it was time.
I did what was fast becoming second nature to me and as soon as I realised this I walked up to the front door and stripped down to my panties.
Yes, that’s right.
Panties.
Women’s panties… but not just any old worn panties that could be mistaken for a small pair of men’s pants.
No, these were tiny, slutty, lacy, and totally revealing women’s panties.
At Madame Annabelle’s instructions I had selected an especially slutty pair that were high on the cumslut bimbo factor and very low on dignity.
Let me describe them:
Bright orange (we were in the Sunshine State after all!) front mesh that was scandalously see-through and absolutely tiny. If I didn’t have such a beta sissy dick there’s no way it would have been enough material to keep me in. The cut of the material was very high on the thigh and emphasised my slender hips.
Of
course, the back was a thin thong, my ass cheeks totally bare for easy access to being groped or spanked, depending on Annabelle’s preference in the given moment or situation.
Annabelle had put me on a sissy workout programme and the focus of this was to give me an even more beta body that would also look appealing to alpha male studs.
So, you guessed it, I had been doing a lot of squatting to get that perfect perky sissy ass. I had made some gains with the assistance of a personal trainer called Maxwell who Annabelle had personally sought out for me – but that is another story for another time!
Anyway, down to my lurid neon thong, the doorbell chimed (the theme score to The Hills believe it or not!) and I assumed my newly normalised position on all fours.
I heard footsteps walking towards the door.
I looked up expecting to see Madame Annabelle but to my shock and instant humiliation it wasn’t her!
Before I got a chance to speak, or even move, this shock arrival introduced herself to me by walking into the house, then slowly circling me, before crouching down to my head height.
“You must be the sissy boi,” She said. “Let me introduce myself. My name is Madame Jennifer, a friend and colleague of Madame Annabelle. She has allowed me to stay here for a few days while my pad is being renovated. Of course, you come as part of that. Is that understood?”
I didn’t know what to say. I mumbled something, totally in a state of shock and confusion.
Madame Jennifer responded by kicking me over onto my back and standing over me.
Let me describe her.
Tall, oh boy was she tall.
Even from my position lying on the floor I could tell she was at least six feet high in heels.
She was wearing what could only be described as a contemporary power suit, pinstripes, a perfectly chic grey fabric. Her curvy, muscular legs filled out the trouser legs and worked up towards powerful thighs and a large, strong, perfectly round ass. The pinstripes really accentuated her curves and it was an incredible combination of style, sex, and power.
She would have given a strong alpha male a run for his money, so the prospect of a wimp like me even trying to take her on in a battle, either physical or of wills, seemed totally pointless.
Her upper half was just as formidable.
Her breasts were large, larger than Annabelle’s, and pointed out aggressively from her tight short sleeved white blouse. As she raised her arms I caught a glimpse of her armpits, always an area of secret sexual fascination and arousal for me. They were well shaven, just a hint of sweat on them.
But of course, it was in her face that Jennifer blew me away.
She had a perfect Californian tan, immaculate skin, a very natural but glamourous look to her that was comparable to Annabelle in terms of its timeless quality, but also subtly different too.
She must have seen me staring
Of course she did.
“Get up on your feet so I can inspect you,” She roared. “You don’t get to drool over me and not get your own pathetic sissy self given the once over!”
As I stood in front of her, I remembered my training from Annabelle that had begun on the slopes on that first skiing holiday that changed everything. I placed my hands on my head, kept a small gap between my legs, and stuck my sissy bottom out with a little forward lean and arch in my back.
I wasn’t prepared for Madame Jennifer’s response.
“Oh my God,” She said, wickedly, almost laughing. “This has to be the most sissy thing I have ever seen in my life. Look at you! Tiny little thong, shocking colour. Did you choose it yourself? Trying to look as slutty as possible, are we? I wonder why. No, don’t answer that. We’ll work it out over the course of the next few days I think. You see, looking around the place I can spot all the short cuts you’ve taken with the cleaning. Not good enough, not even close you little maggot. And speaking of maggots…”
I gulped.
I saw her looking down towards my crotch, a wicked grin on her face.
She stepped towards me and as she did I looked down.
I couldn’t believe it, the shame…
My sissy dick had somehow got out of the panties and was standing right up to attention. This was incredibly humiliating.
Of course, I knew that she would be loving this, and would definitely be reporting it back to Madame Annabelle, probably over Skype later that evening.
Madame Jennifer stopped in front of me, only a matter of centimetres away from me. Her perfume was strong, seductive, quite overpowering.
She held me in her glare.
I felt my rock hard dick twitching and bouncing up and down involuntarily, so much so that I was worried I might cum in front of her… and even worse – cum without her permission!
“Oh, the look on your face says it all,” Jennifer said. “I know you just want to wank that stupid little piece of useless junk until it spurts everywhere, don’t you? Well it’s not happening. Not now, and maybe not later either! Any objections?”
“No, of course not,” I replied, “Of course not, Madame Jennifer.”
“Good, well done for correcting yourself there,” She replied. “But, you are getting a punishment now for the state of this sloppy cleaning up job, and for drooling over me.”
Madame Jennifer then led me by my arm over to the large plush four seater sofa and quite easily lifted me up and put me over her strong, firm legs.
I felt helpless, my ass exposed and my hard cock wedged up in on her lap. I could feel her legs tensing and flexing and it turned me on in a way that again made me worry about cumming right there on the spot.
“You’re going to get some spanks now, and after each one you will say thank you,” Jennifer said. “Not only that, in between spanks you will tell me how much of a sissy you are! And if I don’t think I’m getting enough detail the spanking will just get longer and longer and longer. Understood?”
I agreed, not that I had much choice and began to take my spanking, making sure to say thank you after each spank. I began to go into my sissy fantasies too, much to the delight of Jennifer who seemed to take great pleasure in laughing at me, taunting me, pulling apart my butt cheeks and rubbing around my tight hole.
“So, what I’m getting is that part of being a sissy for you is a kind of desire to not just be a sissy for powerful women like me, but to also experience the power and manliness of an alpha God?” Jennifer stated, not giving me a chance to reply. “Well, I’ll give you a little preview of what that could be like for you.”
I was taken aback, what did she mean by ‘preview’?
Suddenly I felt incredibly exposed, very vulnerable, and totally and utterly at the mercy of this woman who so far was proving to be equally as dominant and intent on humiliating me at least as much as Madame Annabelle.
Then I heard the noise.
A buzzing.
Annabelle laughed. The buzzing sound turned off.
“Well, well, well,” She said. “That sound got your attention didn’t it? Do you want to have a guess at what it was my silly little bimbo sissy? No, I think you know full well, don’t you?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer.
It seemed like she was trying to trap me into an answer that either way she was going to use against me. Well, it actually turned out that my silence didn’t help me too much either.
“Well, if you’re not going to answer then I’ll have to tell you,” She giggled, albeit it a giggle with a sense of authority behind it. “Or better yet, I’ll show and tell you!”
I felt her parting my ass cheeks and then suddenly I felt a heavy pressing sensation on my puckered hole. It was tight, and I felt a strong sense of discomfort. But what I also couldn’t deny was that I felt a surge of adrenalin, like this was actually a good thing I was experiencing on some level.
I let out a moan, and immediately flushed red with complete humiliation.
“Ooooh, you like it do you?” Jennifer declared, confidently. “I thought you would! Well this gives us
great inspiration going forwards but as I work this in and out of you I want you to completely submit yourself to me. I want you to beg for it. I want you to promise me you’ll do anything if I can let you have a sissygasm with this vibrating buttplug plunged deep in your feminine little butt.”
I wasn’t even going to try and kid myself that I didn’t want this. Madame Jennifer had my number well and truly and I just had to go along with it.
I took a deep breath.
“Please Madame, please pump my sissy bottom with your toy, please make me sissygasm for your entertainment,” I said. “I’ll do anything, anything at all, if I can enjoy you fucking my sissy hole with the vibrator. I will clean better, I will serve your ass, your pussy, I will serve anyone, and I mean anyone, you ask me to. Please just keep on pumping me…ooooh…. Oooooh…..aaaaaaaaah, yes! Yes! Yes! I’m a sissy cumslut desperate for cock, desperate ot be humiliated, desperate to be degraded. Ooooooh, Madame I’m cumming, I’m sissygasming….Ooooooooooh!”
There it was, my first orgasm over Jennifer’s lap as a result of her teasing out my confession with her majestic vibrating buttplug. She left it in there on high vibrate and taunted me, telling me all her plans for what we would be doing until Madame Annabele returned.
“You see,” She said, “Annabelle told me that I could push you, she told me that I could do anything I wanted with you, and she also said that she wanted to watch it all. Look at this-“
Jennifer then placed her phone in front of my face and looking back at me was Madame Annabelle, laughing, a large wet stain on the front of her exposed panties.
“Hello, slut,” Annabelle said. “That was quite a performance, and one we’ll be repeating when I arrive at the beach house. In the meantime, do you promise to be a good little sissy squirter for Madame Jennifer?”
I promised I would be.
This was going to be an interesting few days.
**
So, yeah, my time so far at Madame Annabelle’s incredibly plush, luxurious beach house had been eventful. Here I was, under the control of another equally powerful woman in Madame Jennifer who was just as beautiful, just as intoxicating, just as strict, and took just as much pleasure in completely owning and humiliating me.