| C.P. Smythe Storytime 1 |
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| Written by Constance Pennington Smythe | |
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I am an erotic and fetish author who writes about Dominant Females and their submissive, sissy maid, cucks. While I do write professionally I would also like to offer a few things on this site for your own enjoyment. Many of these may end up in some of my books. And while this is 'fiction' many things come from true life experiences. What is real and what is not? I'm afraid I'm the only one who can answer that. But do enjoy. C.P. Smythe’s Story TimeNumber One © 2007 by Constance Pennington Smythe I looked down at the poor thing, he had such sad eyes. “What’s the matter dear, corset too tight?” He shook his head ‘no.’ “No, Ma’am, it’s fine.” “Fine? Well then perhaps we can get you down another half an inch. Up,” I commanded Dejectedly he rose to his feet and turned his back to me. Would he never learn to give an answer without getting himself in more trouble? I do believe that his continual sissification was dumbing him down. He might very well end up an empty-headed, bimbo maid and cocksucker, not that those aren’t useful commodities in my household. My cocktail dress prevented me from putting a knee in his back to pull in the laces. “Breathe in,” I ordered. “Mistress, he gasped, “I..I am.” A final tug drew the restrictive garment down just a bit more. “Comfy?” I mocked. “No, Mistress.” I smiled and gave him a little kiss on the cheek. “Perfect, you look so curvy and feminine, and that steel boning so improves your posture.” Dejectedly he nodded his agreement, as if he had any choice in the matter. “Now hurry on downstairs; Brent will be here for me soon. And remember, he is Master Brent or Sir to you. I must finish dressing.” He curtsied as best as could, so restricted was he within the boning of the cruel pink corset. As I finished my makeup I heard the door bell and the click of sissy’s heels scurrying to the door. The thought of his utter shame and humiliation at what was transpiring made me clench my thighs. Such wicked delights awaited all of us later. But first I would enjoy a wonderful evening out with an Alpha male, the possessor of a formidable cock that would see great service this evening. Sissy curtsied and took Brent’s coat. Even in his five inch stilettos my little sissy was dwarfed by the taller Brent, who reached out to take one of Sissy’s nipples in his huge hand. “Just a corset, stockings and heels, no dress this evening?” mocked Brent. “Yes, Master.” Pinching the nipple Brent delighted in seeing sissy squirm. “Well, you do look like quite the slut.” He pulled and twisted at the nipple watching sissy grimace. “Are you a slut?” Yes sir…master. I’m a slut.” “Well slut, my laundry is outside and while I’m wining, dining and bedding your wife this evening I expect you to take care of it. Medium starch in the dress shirts and iron them carefully.” Releasing his grip Brent walked to the living room, casually ordering, “a drink sissy, now!” I made my entrance down the stairs as sissy was bending at the waist, offering my hunk of a date his drink. “Constance, you look radiant!” He rose to kiss me, a light kiss, so as not to muss my immaculate makeup or coiffure. I stepped back and twirled on my gleaming black patent stiletto, the little black cocktail dress rising just enough to show a glimpse of garter and stocking. Black leather elbow-length gloves sheathed my arms and diamonds glittered from my neck and ears. “You approve?” I asked as I fitted one of my dark European cigarillos into my long black holder. Sissy immediately appeared with a light and I blew a contemptuous stream of smoke in his face. Brent smiled a wicked smile. “Our reservations aren’t for 45 minutes and you look sinful.” “Darling, curb your enthusiasm please, at least for a while. This is all yours baby, but later, after dinner and dancing.” “I don’t think I can wait,” he pleaded. “You must,” I insisted. “But I do realize that real men have needs. How about a blow job, just to hold you over until later?” “Works for me,” he laughed. “Sissy!” I yelled. “Master demands satisfaction.”
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