My Working Life

By: Kirsten

Humiliation of Kirsten: This is a third part of the story and I thought the initial 2 parts were not that good. So sharing the third parts onwards.

I'm sitting here, waiting for Pippa to arrive for our shopping trip.
Which I am dreading. I don't know why she's late, or what she has in
store. Knowing Pippa, I'm sure I won't get away with choosing a few Blu-
rays and then heading for home to watch a movie. So I'm just passing
time. I can hear my wife on the phone downstairs to her closest, best
friend, but it's only one side of the conversation.....undecipherable
snippets like "Oh, she'll love that", "That's going to be so cute," and
"I'll see you in a little while."

It's my day off work. I don't get many of those, anymore.

I used to be a manager in an Argos store. A big retail chain across the
UK. Lots of unpaid OT. An extremely unfair balance of life and work. My
wife used to send me off in my panties, but was always disappointed she
couldn't do more to me.

I spoke to her about changing jobs and we decided we could afford the
leap to get more time together. So for the last half a year I've been
working at a garden centre. Working four days on, four days off. I don't
see too many customers in my section (designing summer houses), so my
wife saw it as a great opportunity to further her games.

For the last six months I've come to work wearing panties and a bra, and
girly socks. Now the winter months are closing in, she's switched the
socks to tights and instructed that I have to remove my shoes when I'm in
the office. Which is quite scary because when I am with customers I do
have to stand and shake their hands, see them out........All they have to
do is look down and see my toes in the delightful fabric. It's not too
bad when the tights are opaque, but sometimes they are 15 or even 10
denier.

She also added a lacey vest or camisole to my underwear. So sometimes
I'll have to catch myself from adjusting my straps if people are around.
Sometimes I do it for fun when I am near customers. Occasionally I open
my shirt a button lower, just enough to show a hint of lace or bra.

She's acknowledged that she can't go to extremes while she has to protect
my employment. She won't send me in dresses or skirts, but I do have to
wear women's trousers which have a different fit to men's clothing so
even though it doesn't sound like much it is a constant reminder of who I
am and what is happening to me. She won't send me in high heels, but has
instructed me to find an appropriate pair of women's shoes as long as I
am there. And I'm not allowed to wear acrylic nails at the moment, which
bums me out a little bit because I do enjoy having them despite the
embarrassment. My nails are painted clear, and on my day off cycle our
first stop is Heather's Salon for acrylics and hair.

And my diary for customer appointments, work events, etc, is nice and
floral. Pink trim on the pages and a butterfly motif. I've lost track of
the amount of comments I've received from customers about my 'masculine'
dairy, how 'pretty it is'.

Sometimes my hair is in a bob, sometimes a pixie cut. Whatever she
decides that week. And I try to brush it off when people joke, but I
wonder should I just start accepting what is happening. I do enjoy all
the feminine finery in life. I love wearing jewellery when I drive to and
from work. A couple of rings, a bracelet, clip-on earrings (for now, I've
been told). My hair, the clothes and make-up. I love it all.

For a while, Maggie has been looking for work for me dressed. More
fitting to my wife status. And with the two interviews I've recently had
she believes she's made a breakthrough. And then, of course, there's
this:

My work as a maid, even though unpaid, has increased dramatically, as her
close circle of friends aware of her games has grown. I used to help one
of her friends, once a month. But now, to accommodate everyone, I must
work a minimum of one day a week in my maid's uniform. To keep everyone
happy as I cycle through a make-shift rotation I sometimes work two or
three days.

Cindy is my favorite. She has always kept things friendly, even though
she does like her tricks. The others are quite strict about my work and
boss me about a lot. It's a role they are getting used to. Cindy likes to
chat while I work, and keeps things real. There's never really been
anything fake about her.

Of course, Pippa is the worst. I hate it. And never know what is going to
happen. I've only visited her home twice, and each time she has insisted
I arrive dressed in my maid uniform (that sweet, sexy Ann Summers
number), whereas the others allow me to change when I arrive. The work is
okay, but it's what she does. The first time she deliberately invited
friends outside of our circle for drinks. I had to answer the door and
curtsey each time the bell rang. From their reactions I couldn't tell
whether they knew I was going to be present or not. I honestly don't
think they were as Pippa continually used phrases like 'Oh, don't mind
the maid'.

I served them tea and biscuits and inevitably they started to ask
questions. I had to stand and explain myself while they giggled and
laughed. Some of them asked to spank me and Pippa consented. I had to
lower my panties and show them my small clit. Which was awful because I
was on my period and they saw my panty-liner.

"Oh, does he wear a tampon, too?" one of them exclaimed.

Pippa grinned knowingly and opened my handbag. She pulled one out.

The woman actually clapped as she cried: "Delightful!"

I'd say I've never blushed so red, but truth be told over the last
several months I probably have.

That might sound bad, but consider this. Two days ago I was at Pippa's
for the second time. I worked on my chores. Typical stuff: ironing,
dishes, laundry....she instructed me to hand-wash all her delicates, but
mostly left me alone.

Then the doorbell rang. I looked to her, hoping she would not have me
answer it. She merely nodded and I walked nervously to the door,
wondering who it might be. I opened it to her boyfriend, the co-pilot
from my flight to America. He'd seen me then in a flight attendant's
uniform, but this just cracked him up. He burst into laughter at the
sight of Pippa's maid as I curtsied and brushed by me.

They retired to the bedroom and I thought I was going to escape without
further humiliation. But just as my shift was nearly over Pippa called
out and I was summoned to the bedroom.

I was instructed to remove my maid's uniform. Then I was to stand and
watch in my panties, bra, suspenders, stockings and heels as they had
sex. Even in the throes of passion, Pippa kept looking at me, smiling,
occasionally winking. She was playing with him, like she was playing with
me. Unknowing to the co-pilot, she grinned at me as she faked her orgasm.
Pippa is one cruel bitch and has quickly become my nemesis in all this.

He withdrew and I couldn't take my eyes off him. He was so big. My own
tiny clit tried to get hard at the sight of his giant, dribbling erection
and dripping juices oozing from her, but it felt so inadequate, barely
tenting in my soft, lace panties.

Pippa laughed at it and looked at me expectantly. I didn't know what to
do as the man stepped away from the bed, his penis still strong and big.

Pippa moved to the edge of the bed.

"You might not have your uniform on, but you're still my maid. Clean me
now."

I kneeled down, but she shook her head.

"On all fours. I've got a surprise for you."

She giggled as a damp spot appeared on my panties and I went down before
her, licking cum from her thighs, finding her sweet spot with my tongue.
I started to enjoy myself, tasting her lovely juices mixed with his cum
when suddenly-

I felt my panties being pulled to my ankles.

I tried to turn, but Pippa held my head strong. My face was buried in her
pussy and I tried to cry out, tried to shout no as I felt his still hard
penis probing at my butt. He was massaging himself in my crack. He didn't
enter, but it was a horrible taste of what could happen.

"Please don't," I managed to cry out.

I could feel a fresh, final spurt of his cum dribble over my ass. He held
my hips and pretended to push and heave. Pippa burst into giggles as I
closed my eyes and continued to eat her out. I felt my own orgasm begin.
Couldn't hold it as he slapped my butt and stepped away, laughing. My
sperm sprayed out, soaking through my panties and dripping onto the
carpet.

Pippa sat up as my spasms ended. "Jesus, Kirsten, can't you control
yourself."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Just get a cloth."

I stood and Pippa smiled.

"There's no time. Just get down there."

I scooped my cum from the carpet and from my soaked panties, looking for
somewhere to wipe it off. I knew what Pippa wanted to see, and again,
there was that cruel nod. A look. Enough to tell me I knew better.

I slowly began to eat my own cum from my palm, and then suck it from my
fingers.

"That better not stain," Pippa said, indicating the carpet.

God, it was frightening how quickly things were moving. I don't know who
I am, what I enjoy. But I was on a bullet train moving at the speed of
light from willingly giving a handjob, and enjoying doing it, to the
possibility of giving oral sex, and suddenly finding myself.....well,
despite some fantasies, that's something I had not considered. But if
I've talked about anal penetration with my wife, could that actually be
far behind?

So, I work as a maid on a variety of days, doing a real variety of tasks.

Of course, I'm still writing. My manager is currently marketing one of my
scripts. No sale yet, but we've been getting great feedback. Maybe I'll
get that break soon, but even that worries me as I think about the
clauses that were put in my contract after she met me. How can I ever
meet movie executives and producers as a......not merely a cross-dresser,
anymore........as a sissy? There, I can say it. Might not believe it with
all my heart, but..........Am I a sissy, or is it something even more? It
seems through all my life I've been taking steps towards a goal I still
can't see. What is beyond these games? Something more permanent.

I think about that. What it would mean to me and those around me, those
closest. What they might say if I actually dared to mention
transitioning. Is that a part of Maggie's game? Would I do it? I have
sacred childhood memories that have been rising within me: of wishing I
was a girl, wondering why I was trapped in a boy's body. I was
circumcised when I was little, and because I was going to be operated on
my private parts, I was convinced that everything was going to be fixed,
that my parents were going to put things right. I was finally going to be
a real girl. Of course, that didn't happen, and I was heartbroken, crying
for months until I finally realised nobody knew what had happened to me
and that I was going to have to be a man all my life.

And now these games were happening and I was becoming more open to
possibilities, but at the same time more confused and scared about who I
was.

I bet you didn't know you were going into therapy when you started this
story.

Anyway, my wife and Pippa set up two job interviews for me. So, if you
want to meet me at the garden centre and have a giggle at my mildly
feminised state you best hurry as I won't be there much longer.

The first interview was with Heather at her salon. I didn't know the
position so I arrived classily dressed. A nice suit, and heels. Bag on my
shoulder. I was trying to portray a professional woman. I was a
professional woman. I had the outfit. My make-up looked appropriate and
natural. My hair......Considering where I was interviewing at, I'd spent
ages teasing my hair into a pleasing shape. I'd worked at home as my
wife's secretary for long enough that I could pull that look off.

When I entered the salon Heather, Jo and Tina all laughed.

I stopped, dismayed.

"No, no," Heather said quickly, putting me at ease. "You look beautiful,
Sweetie. But what position do you think you're interviewing for?"

"I'm not sure," I said. "I don't know anything about hair, so I figured
you needed some help in the office, perhaps."

"Office?" Heather grinned.

Jo smiled. "You've seen Tina's room when you've been in for your nails?"

I nod.

"Well, there's a break room back there," she continued. "And a rest-room.
We don't have an office, Honey."

"God, she's so precious," Tina smiled at my confusion.

"But-" I began.

"The position," Heather explained, nice and slowly to be sure I grasped
it, "is for an errand girl."

I blanked. Not even sure I'd heard her right.

"A shampoo girl," Jo grinned. "You'll be washing our clients hair,
getting them ready for us. Maybe making them a drink."

"But I graduated university-"

"Well, what use is that here if you don't know how to cut hair? But don't
worry, once you settle in we'll start to teach you and you can help out
even more."

"But-"

"It's not just washing hair," Jo informed me. "We always need somebody to
nip to the shops. Pick things up. We're all on different cycles so
several times a month you can buy our hygiene products."

I baulked at the idea.

"You'll also be brushing the floor regularly. That's a full time job
right there."

"Wait. Back up. I can't go to the shops here. We're right near town.
People might see me."

"That's part of your job description," Heather told me, quite sternly.
"Maggie specifically said you need to start getting outside closer to
home. She thought this would be a good start and I do agree. Besides, you
don't even have the job yet. Step through to my office."

She led me to the break room and had me make her a cup of coffee.

"Good start," she smiled.

The interview went well. Being good neighbors for years, we got along. It
was more of a pleasant chat. She asked how I was doing, was impressed
that I was fitting into my role well and coping with the humiliations,
some of which she had been a part of.

"And I'll be part of future one's, too," she grinned. "I love watching
you squirm. Which brings me to your uniform."

"I've got the job!" I suddenly exclaimed, surprised by my own excitement.

"Do you actually think I was interviewing other girls?" she laughed.
"You're so sweet, Kirsten. I'm going to love having you around here."

"I think what I'm wearing is quite-" I began.

Heather shook her head. "You do look pretty, but it's entirely
inappropriate. Your wife had me commission something special just for
you. It's in that box over there. Once you are changed just pop out so we
can get a good look at you."

She left. I walked to the box, aware that I was taking small lady-like
steps naturally. I peeked inside and-

-my stomach flipped. How the hell was I supposed to wear this? Be a
woman, Maggie constantly told me. Even when dressed in jeans or trousers.
Be the woman you are. But how could I be a woman wearing this? I pulled
the clothes from the box. All I could do was adapt to the role they
expected......But what would they do to me if I didn't pull it off.

A few minutes later I emerged from the break room with a giggly, "Hi,
girls!"

"Holy shit!" Jo exclaimed. "He's actually wearing it."

"She's wearing it," Heather quickly corrected.

I hesitated, Jo's exclamation immediately breaking the illusion and
belief I had built up in the break room. What was I doing here? I'm a
man. How can I be wearing this? I genuinely was trying to believe, but it
was so easy for the spell to be broken.

"Don't worry. You look great," Jo assured me. "First day jitters. That's
all you've got."

I caught my reflection in a mirror. My hair and make-up looked great. My
smooth stockinged legs quite hot in the high heels that accentuated my
calves. And then there was the short, pink skirt, pleated and flaring out
in an A-line effect. And the tight, fitted T-shirt that was scooped out
and sure did show off my cleavage. It was also pink, matching the skirt,
and emblazoned across the front in a large, glitter font:

Heather's Girl

My second interview was at the Riverside Inn. Pippa set that up. We'd
eaten there a few weeks earlier and our waitress, Charlotte, had made
sure I had special dressings on my salad and desert. She had really
gotten into what Pippa was doing.

Apparently Pippa had popped in to let Charlotte know she wanted to bring
me in to eat again. Charlotte had been promoted. She was now supervising
the part-time team. Pippa had asked if she needed any extra staff, and
Charlotte, knowing where Pippa was going, had told her she would have to
speak with her boss.

Pippa had gotten the call a few days later. I had to go and interview for
the position. Her boss didn't want to be seen as prejudiced or bigoted
and was basically protecting his own ass by giving me a chance. He didn't
care for me one way or the other. If I was successful I was to work
directly under Charlotte..........Which I was dreading as it had quickly
become apparent that she and Pippa had taken a shine to each other when
they met at the restaurant and humiliated me.

This interview went well. I dressed for the part. Looked good enough that
the boss didn't even realise I was the man (not that I see myself that
way, some days) coming in for the waitress position. I had on stockings
and suspenders, a really cute matching bra and pantie set that helped me
feel good and confident, black pencil skirt and a sheer, white blouse.
Heels of course. Make-up quite hot to help with the tips, and hair cute
as a button.

At the end of the interview, Charlotte offered me the job on the spot.

"Want to celebrate?" she said.

"That would be nice," I nodded, starting to relax.

She left for a moment. We were just two girls. Throughout the interview
we had talked about job skills, but also make-up, magazines, television,
clothes, accessories We got on really well. Sure, she was my new boss,
but she didn't see me as a man dressed up. It felt great. She saw me as a
woman.

Charlotte returned with two soda floats.

"It's been years since I've had one of these," she said, giving them both
a final stir. She handed me mine, which looked different. Before I could
comment she said: "It's just a different flavor of ice cream. I wasn't
sure which you'd like."

I tasted it. There was a familiar hint to it, the soda throwing it off
slightly. But it was nice. Very yummy.

"Do you like it?" Charlotte asked.

I nodded eagerly, eating it quite quickly. It was a taste I was becoming
addicted to, but I couldn't quite place it.

"Remember your special salad that the chef made just for you a few weeks
back?"

I hesitated. Slowed down on the tasty drink. My stomach turned.

"I asked him to make your a very special float," she grinned.

I stopped eating. My hand trembled.

"Oh, go on, girl," Charlotte encouraged. "You know you love it. So please
don't offend him. You never know, he might treat you once in a while once
you're on the team."

I slowly devour the last of the drink and wipe his juice from my lips. I
freshen my lipstick.

"Thank you, Miss Charlotte," I said. "Please tell the chef I loved it."

She bursts out laughing. "We're going to have so much fun!"

That was a few days ago. My first shift is next week. The same week I
start at Heather's Salon. I'm real busy these days. Something has to
give. I asked my wife if I could drop one of the new jobs and she merely
smiled, handing me a letter she had typed.

It was my resignation from the garden centre. I sighed deeply.

"Don't do this," I begged her.

"It will be great. Now you don't have to worry about hiding what you
wear. You're hair can look great all the time. You can have your nails
done as often as you like." Maggie smiled at me. "By as often as you
like, I mean, you'll have your nails done all the time."

The door bell rang, breaking my reverie at the computer, and I listen to
the voices downstairs.

Maggie: "You're late. It's nearly lunchtime."

Pippa: "Don't worry. I've made some special plans for her."

Maggie: "Nothing too harsh."

Pippa: "Maggie, please. We're besties forever, and I know, at the end of
the day, Kirsten's your girl. I'd never hurt her."

Maggie: "I thought you'd be out earlier."

Pippa: "You asked me to punish her remember. For the time she posted that
story late. So, it's late night for Christmas shopping.  I just wanted
time for it to get nice and busy. I'm going to have so much fun with
her."

I close my door for a second. What was she going to do to me? I started
to lock into the feminine part of my mind. I am a woman, I told myself. I
am a woman. But how could I believe that in this man's body? And while I
was in this man's body, whatever Pippa did would humiliate me regardless
of what I believed inside.

"Kirsten, come on down," my wife called. "Pippa's here."

I hesitated at the door.

"Hurry up, girl," Pippa added. "It's time to go shopping."

Happy New Year

Happy 2017

The Interview

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Birthday

By: Don Davidson

 He heard the clicking of the metal stiletto's she was wearing coming into
the room. He shook....  looking into the mirror in her walk in closet...
bathed in a pink light.

On his knees, bottom up, he could see himself, purple hair with pig
tails, smokey eyes, whitish face foundation,  plastic face harness that
made his lips into a perfect circle... all shiny pink and swollen with
with puffing permanent lipstick she had painted on them... a thin rubber
tube and inflation bulb coming out....

The pump fed a black rubber veined circumcised cock gag that was unique.
It was to help him learn, train him to keep his mouth open wide.... It
was like a balloon... a softer area was at the base.... if he bit down on
it... the pressure would cause the cock head to go deeper into his mouth
and down his throat... She had inflated it so that it just started to
tickle the back.... forcing him to hold his jaw open wide as possible.
Ear rings with bells were clamped on his ears.  She was looking forward
to the day to get him pierced... telling him it would be so much easier
than all these nasty clamps and grips she had to use to attach things to
him.

The strict pink posture collar held his head up and back. The pink
plastic sissy dress and corset covered his body except for his little
sissy titties... which she had applied clamps with bells....  Pink ball
mitts covered his hands and were attached to the front of the posture
collar with a small clip. He was on his elbows looking in the mirror.  A
short chain from the front of his collar held him down to the floor.

Face down and bottom up, he could just see the wide puffiness  of the
bottom of the sissy dress. Lots of ruffles and the diaper held it wide.
She wasn't trying to baby him with the diaper. She just didn't want to
clean up any mess. So, after the three cleansing enemas she had him
endure that morning, with the application of the inflated cock plug in
his bottom, there would be no worry about any leaks... and... he had a
humiliating rubber cock in his bottom. All covered with a clear vinyl
pantie that made a crinkling noise when he moved.  White nylons covered
his hairless legs. The rest of his body was hairless save the purple hair
on his head.

His sissy bits, as she called them, were ringed with metal rings around
the base and each little nugget... (she seemed to have a special name for
everything). Short chains went from his little nuggets to his ankles and
the pink ballet shoes locked on his ankles... He had to keep his ankles
close to his sissy bits.... This wasn't too much of a problem as he could
never walk when she was around ( or even when she wasn't around) .... he
always had to crawl. He could never stand. The highest he could be was
kneeling... crotch height. Pink knee pads were strapped on... not for his
comfort as they had little nibs on the underside. She didn't want any
scuff marks on the floor.

Under the crack at the base of the door, he could see where she was
standing... dark shadow's where her feet were. He heard the click of the
door unlocking, not that it needed to be locked. There was no way he was
going anywhere.

The door opened. He looked up at her. There she was. In all her glory.
Jet back hair in tight curls. She loved the fifties look. She always was
dressed up. Hair. Makeup. Today, smokey eyes, dark red lipstick, black
shiny satin dress to her mid thigh, black high heels, black satin finger-
less gloves with her dark red nail sharpened to a point ... holding a
long cigarette holder... smoking a long brown cigarette.

She bent over..." How's my little sweetie doing?" she asked.

"MPHHHH" he nodded. There was to be no negative responses.  He had
learned... No was not an option.  All was good. Take it all. Yes. Nod
yes. Smile if you could.

" That's good honey" she said sliding her foot in front of his face.  He
immediately lowered his bound and gagged face and put it on her stiletto,
rubbing his face against it, gently caressing it with this cheeks.

" That's good sunshine.... ready to get started? " she asked....

He looked up... saw her smiling... whimpered a bit and nodded yes. She
took a long drag on her cigarette, bent down and blew the smoke on his
face. He coughed a bit. Her long fingered nails caressed his head,
pulling on his pig tails. A slight slap to his face had him blinking.

" Did sissy go pee pee in it's diaper while waiting?" she asked. He shook
no. His earring bells tinkling.

She smiled. " That's a good little sissy." She unhooked the chain from
the collar to the floor and pulled him out of the closet. She unhooked
the ball mitts from the collar. She connected a longer leash on the
collar and led him out of the room. He didn't look up. All he could see
was the back of her feet in the stiletto's leading him out ... him
crawling on his knees, and ball mitts. The bells jingling.

Grunting a bit with each hobbled crawling step.

"Shhhhh honeybun" she said without even turning around to look at him.
Her heels clicking away in front if him.

Click. Click. Click,

He was sweating in the plastic sissy dress more. Beet red with
humiliation. The crinkling of the plastic and jingling off the bells.

Click. Click. Click.

She led him to the back door. " We're going to the garage peaches". She
yanked on the leash pulling him outside.  Crawling behind her.

Click. Click. Click.  His knees aching. His nuggets aching as he tried to
hold his ankles up.... and not yank on them. The little bells jingling as
he scooted along behind her.

It was a long single car garage. She opened the side door and pulled him
in.

" Let's have some fun today.... It's a special day for my precious...
Isn't it?"

He nodded.

Crawling in, he saw what looked like a sawhorse type thing near the back
of the garage, and what looked like a black plastic curtain hanging from
the rafters.

She "walked" him over to the back the the saw horse.  She put down her
cigarette.

" OK my wittle sweetie.... lets get you set up on this." ... She had him
scoot over and get up on his knees.  She helped him get lined up over the
length of it..... most of his body. His sissy bits and bottom were not
supported. He was still on his knees there. She connected the ball mitts
to the front legs of the saw horse.... His head was not supported either.
She went to the work bench, grabbed a cargo strap and wrapped it around
his waist and sawhorse. His titty bells hanging down on each side of the
sawhorse.  He could hear it clicking as she ratcheted it tight. She took
another strap and fed it though the back of the plastic gag strap behind
his head and fed it underneath the waist strap and pulled it tight. This
pulled the plastic face plate tighter, forcing his puffy lips out even
more and held his head up so he looked straight ahead.

It was more work not to bite down on the rubber cock gag and prevent the
cock head from going down his throat.

As his arms were bare, she took black duct tape and wrapped them from the
wrists above the ball mitts to the legs of the sawhorse to past the
elbows.  Not really needed.... but she liked the look.

"Comfy?"  Not really, but he nodded yes as was expected.

"Now, let get to work on princess's other end."

He heard her clicking behind him. He felt her pull up the bottom of the
sissy dress and ruffles and pin it up. He felt her undo the snaps on the
plastic panties and pull them off, exposing his diaper."

"Now lets see if my sweetness was fibbing about not making pee pee."

He felt her pulling off the diaper and exposing his sissy bits. She
touched the front of the diaper and checked it....

" Nice... my little gurly gurl didn't go pee pee... but looks little a
little sissy juice leaked out." She smiled and put the diaper on the
floor near his head.

"Let's check your sissy bits" she said.  The chains on his nuggets were
there... still all connected.... his pissy stick was engorged and red.

"Oh oh. Precious has an angry little stiffy...." She walked to his head
and tapped his cheek. " Naughty Naught sissy. We'll have to take care of
that in a bit."

She walked to the bench, took a long deep drag on the cigarette holder,
held the smoke in and slowly exhaled. Smiling, she put it down again and
went to a drawer and took out two small black straps.

"We have to get those legs up and out of the way."  She clicked behind
him and he felt his left ankle being pulled up and to the side and the
strap was connected to the ring on the ballet boot. She fed it through
the waist strap and connected it.... It also had a ratchet on it... he
heard a couple of clicks as his leg was pulled up and off the floor. She
repeated the process for the other leg. She slowly ratcheted each leg
back and out... as far as the nugget chains would allow.  He was grunting
with each click.

" Sh Sh Sh SHHHH rose petal.... " patting his head.

She ratcheted the waist belt a few more clicks.... then went back and had
another long satisfying drag on her cigarette.... finishing it... butting
it out.

"Now pumpkin.... since it's your 21st birthday.... you get 21 spanks....
Won't that be great?"

He whimpered... but nodded yes as best he could considering how his head
was restrained.

"So, we'll have a record of this, I have a couple of camera's I'm going
to set up.... isn't that wonderful? " He nodded.

She rolled out two camera's on tripods. One she positioned behind him,
one in front of him, looking at him squarely at his face. " This is so we
can record your reaction to each birthday gift your getting.  Nice of me,
isn't it?"

He nodded.

"So, because this is such a .... special day.... I'm not going to spank
you with my hand.... "

She clicked over to the bench and picked up a long paddle and showed it
to him. He whimpered. " See sweetie... I bought this just for this
special day. Just for my darling sissy."  She rolled a large mirror in
front of him. He could see his humiliating position and what was
coming....

She patted him on the head and walked behind him, her heels clicking on
the concrete...

" Ready sunshine?"  Without waiting for a response, she raised the paddle
and brought it down on his helpless butt cheek.

He winched... grunted, bit down on the cock gag sending the rubber cock
head deep into his throat... he groaned, coughed, squirmed and teared
up.... The bells jingling as he squirmed. Titty bells pulling down.

"MPHHHHH"

She quickly scooted to head head and bent over .... " Oh peaches.... you
have to keep your mouth open.... please be careful."

She clicked behind him.....

WHACK.... "MPHHHHHHHH" again... another self gagged squirm session.

She clicked over to his head again....

" This might help.... try to moan loudly into the gag... We're in the
garage... no one is going to hear my princess.. and it will be easier to
keep that sissy mouth open and not squeezing on the rubber cock." She was
nodding as she was saying this...

He nodded back.

She clicked behind him....

WACK... " MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMP"

"There .... that's better." She said smiling.  " I love the sound you
make."

WACK.... "MPHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

"Only 17 more to go...."

Over the next 1/2 hour, she administered the final 17 birthday presents
for his bottom. It was a dark red. She clicked in front of him, caressed
his cheek and smiled lovingly.

"I'll be back in a few minutes and we can get started on more of your
birthday presents." He whimpered as she clicked out of the garage,
closing the door behind her.

His bottom was burning. Legs and arms were aching. Nuggets aching. Jaw
aching. But even with all that, his sissy stick was stiff and dripping...
and he needed to pee badly... something impossible to do with an
erection.... He tried squirming... but there was no where to get any
slack... no movement.

About a half hour later, or so, he heard her clicking back. The side
garage door opened and she clicked in.  She still wore the same black
satin outfit, but had on a long white rubber apron and black latex
gloves.

She clicked behind him.

"Oh oh... precious's sissy stick is still angry..."

She bend down and touched it with her gloved hand....

His head swooned with the contact. She clicked over and grabbed the
diaper and clicked back..... placing it on the floor directly underneath
his downward pointed sissy bit.

"Now pumpkin....try not to make sissy cummies.... understand.... I'm
going to rub this for three minutes.... and no cummies or I'll be
disappointed... "

He nodded... but then... her warm latex covered hand pulled the skin
tight.... and and firm pumping motion sent him into a dream world where
his head started to spin... he never felt the spasms ... only a tingling
from the base of his back up to his head... his eyes closed as the orgasm
washed over him... and he could feel the rubber cock going down his
throat and the rubber cock in his bottom.... he screamed into the gag as
his goo shot all over the diaper.....

"Let it all out princess... let it go... be the sissy .... accept being a
sissy..... cock in your mouth and bottom."

She held it firmly for a couple of minutes.... it started to shrink down
a bit....

"You can make pee pee's now if you need to... just pee onto the diaper."
she smiled taking her gloves and apron off.  He head spinning and with
her watching, looking down on him, he was able to relive his badder onto
the diaper... all in front of her... blushing in humiliation....

"Well my little peaches... I'm  little disappointed... but I have
something for a naughty sissie who made cummies when told not too.. be
right back. " She clicked out of the garage and came back hold something
behind her.

"Next birthday present." She smiled and showed him a small pink box with
a bow.  She held it in front of his face, pulled off the bow and took the
lid off the box.

In it, was a pink plastic chastity tube..... "I told my sweetness not to
make cummies... but... pumpkin made a mess... so...I hope my gurly gurl
enjoyed the cummies... sissy won't be having any for a long time."

She clicked behind him... he could feel her fiddling with his sissy bits,
putting the ring behind his nuggets, easing the tube over his now soft
sissy stick.... adjusting the pins, tightening it up... then.... the
click of the lock....

He whimpered...

" Aw precious... sissies don't need sissy sticks all up and causing
problems... it's for the best."

She looked at her watch....

"Almost time for your next present." She clicked around behind him.  He
could hear her moving somethings around... and the black plastic curtain
was being moved.  She draped it over him at the waist strap and brought
it underneath him so he could see anything behind him. She moved the
camera behind him and put it into the position she wanted. It looked
right at his bottom, which was up, framed with the pick sissy dress and
ruffles, high heels, legs pulled apart.. bottom blazing red.... and a
plug between his cheeks.....

She positioned a laptop on a chair in front of his face and turned it
on.... The image that popped up was the camera that was looking at his
bottom. She was smiling. " I wouldn't want my honey bun to miss this... "

And then..... he heard the garage door opener kick in and the big door
opening... His helpless bottom facing the door. He grunted a bit... not
thinking... bit down on the cock gag and the head popped down for a
second.... he squirmed...

"My My, aren't we getting all excited... and sissy gurl doesn't even know
what her present is..."

She stood up as a vehicle pulled into the garage and the door closed. She
walked behind the plastic curtain... her heels clicking. He heard the
vehicle door open and someone got out... more clicking of her heels...

He heard her say something to the person... he wasn't sure what it was...
something like "Thank you for doing this." and possibly response of "No
problem, I'm glad you asked me... " It was a man's voice.

He felt her hand on his red bottom, and could see it on the monitor.  He
heard the man say something like "Sweet."

Looking on the monitor, he could see her hand on the plug valve and felt
it deflating... then, she eased it out. He couldn't hear was she was
saying, but then she clicked to his side of the curtain... rolled a stool
near his head, sat down... and slowly caressed it...

"Now my little poopy-doo.... this is another gift.... for my princess to
really be my special sissy gurl... she needs man cock in her... and real
man juice.... "

He squirmed.... she grabbed his jaw..... "Look at the monitor." She
squeezed his jaw more.  What he saw was a man, from the waist down, very
shiny, almost vinyl like black pants at his bottom.  Slowly, he unzipped
himself.... and eased his man cock out... circumcised and erect.....

"See peaches... that's a man cock.... and it's going in you.... to make
you a sissy."

Whimpering... he watched.... he felt the leather covered hands on his but
cheeks, pealing them open... exposing his bottom. The cock head at his
rose bud..... slowly starting to push in...

"MPHHHHH" The bells jingling.......

"Honey bun.... you're doing fine... don't be nervous.... just relax." She
was caressing his head.... calm soothing voice...

The shaft went in deeper.... " The first one is always the toughest." she
smiled... He could see it going in deeper... filling him up.... man cock
in his bottom.... He bit down on the cock gag... coughed a bit...

"Sweetie... mouth wide... you can moan loudly....that'll help."

MMMMMMMPHHHHH

He felt it all the way in... his eyes wide... moaning into the cock
gag.....

Then felt it moving out.... and back... and forth and back and forth....
grunting... bells jingling....

She was caressing his cheeks.... " All most there my little princess....
man cum is coming," He could feel the cock engorging even more... it's
heat filling his bottom... then he heard moaning a huge grunt and felt
the spamming in his bottom...  he blushed with humiliation knowing he was
being bred... filled with man cum... The cock was slowly being pulled
out....

She gently patted his head.... " There sweetie.... all done ..... you're
officially my little pansy now." She got up and walked behind the
curtain.... She eased the plug back in his bottom and inflated it. "
Don't want anything to leak out." she said.

He saw the man back away, muffled voices and the garage door opening. The
vehicle left. She pulled back the curtain.

She clicked back to him.... caressing his face. " Well, I bet my little
gurly gurl feels different now, doesn't she." He nodded....

He squirmed a bit.... she patted his head... like a puppy....

"One more birthday surprise sunshine..."

He whimpered. She picked up the soggy diaper wet with his goo and pee pee
and put it back on him. It was cold and humiliating. She then put the
plastic panties over them, closing the snaps. Over that, she took another
strap. fed it between his legs and to the waist strap and ratcheted it
tight, pulling the sodden mess tight to his crotch.  She pulled down the
ruffles and sissy dress and straightened it out.

"Back in a few minutes" she smiled and left him like that in the garage.
A few minutes later, she came back with a cocktail and her cigarette
holder re-loaded.  Black leather gloves on her hands.  She lit the
cigarette, red lips lovingly sucking on the holder.

She clicked over to him. " Now, my little precious sweetie, it's been a
wonderful morning....  a nice bath, and cleaning inside and out, and lots
and lots of presents from me and that nice man... all helping my gurly
gurl be the sissy I want her to be... but there is one more thing you
need....."

She took a sip of her drink. "to really be the sissy I want you to be....
I've arranged a little party for you."

The garage door opened again.  This time, with the black plastic curtain
open, he could see the vehicle om the mirror .  It was a van backing in.
She was caressing his head.  He squirmed and grunted.

"Oh honey bun... you'll do just fine...." she smiled as four men in
leather got out of the van, all wearing masks. One opened the back doors
of the the van and they all walked to each of the legs of the sawhorse
and lifted him up off the floor. Bells jingling.  He squirmed a little as
they set it on the floor of the van and attached some straps to hold it
there...

She clicked over.... caressed his face lovingly... smiling.... "You see
sweetie... to really be my sissy pansy... you have to learn to please man
cock... it's one thing to just lay there and have man cock in your
bottom... but you need to learn to use your mouth properly.... "  She
took another drag on her cigarette holder....

"Now honey bun.. I've done all that I can do for you for now... the
rubber cock gag was to help you to earn to keep your mouth wide open...
and cock head down the throat... but there is no substitute for the real
thing.  These nice men will help you with that... " He was grunting into
the gag... squirming... pleading with puppy dog eyes...

She patted his head. She planted a lipstick kiss on his forehead. The men
got into the front of the van.

"Happy birthday sweetheart.... Make your mother proud."

'MPHHHHHH"

She closed the doors on the van and it pulled away...

She closed the garage door and walked out the side door... closing it,
taking another drag on her smoke and a sip of her drink... she whistfully
thought to her self....

"Ahhh.... they grow up so fast..." and clicked into the house.....

The end.

The Laundry Day

by: strangefun






WARNING: This story contains graphic depiction of depraved sexual acts, sisification, sexual abuse, humiliation and torture. Read at your own discretion! I always loved to hate the Laundry Day. You may ask, "What is a big deal? Just load the washing machine, throw the clean stuff into the dryer and fold!" Yes, in normal household that would be it. But in my case, the Washing Machine is not washing clothes. It is torturing my bound, sealed in latex form while I wash all the kinky, soiled things and toys from the week before. This Laundry Day began with me waking up, horny and frustrated as usual, in a very uncomfortable and humiliating situation, but I'll come back to that later. After being released from my "pajamas", trembling with anticipation of the long, torturous and humiliating day, I take a shower and shave fresh all over. After I am dried and powdered, a thick latex full-body cat suit is stretched over my smooth form, compressing me, covering every inch of my skin in white, shiny, intoxicatingly smelling second skin. The thicker-than-usual latex limits my moments, and after the addition of the heavy latex waist cincher, makes bending difficult. The hood with open eyes, nose holes and mouth is a part of the suit, so are the gloves and socks. Heavy latex posture collar holds my head rigidly up. I am completely covered in heavy latex sans my crotch and ass, leaving my straining penis hand freely. Well, not really freely, since it is encased in tiny, tight, hard plastic cage. Being constantly sexually teased and abused for the past week and not being allowed to cum has turned me into a whimpering, horny sissy slut, eager to do anything, perform any degrading and humiliating act, take anything and beg for more without even a promise of release. My favorite state of being.... The cat suit zippers are hidden under the corset, and the corset itself is locked - there is no way I can take any of it off, and the knee-high, super-stiff white patent ballet boots that go on my feet next are locked as well. Reinforced and double-layered patent holds my feet pointing vertically down, making walking an insanely sexy-looking torture - it took me a long time on the treadmill with my hands bound in a tight sleeve behind me and a thick, "confortable" rope secured above with the other end snuggled around my neck to catch me if I stumble. I am now quiet proficient. My hands are then secured behind my back and a ring gag is inserted between my teeth, keeping my mouth wide-opened. My Owner enjoys leaving me no choice when He abuses me - and it suites me well. I don't want any choice; being just a piece of kinky, fuckable meat, used for somebody else's pleasure and amusement is my biggest turn-on, and today I'll get plenty of that. Than, I am given my humiliating breakfast. Made to kneel between His legs, my throat is unceremoniously pulled over His long, thick cock, and I am riling between His legs as my face is impaled on it, my head held by His strong hands, slowly pulling me over His cock, feeling the bulbous head entering my throat, deeper and deeper, stretching it, cutting off my air, until my latex-covered nose is flattened against His stomach. He amuses himself for a while holding it in, making me gag constantly and suffocating me, watching me suffer between His legs, than fucks my face, slowly at first, enjoying the feeling of His cock's bulbous head sliding through my gagging throat, than fast, fucking my throat deep and hard, taking His time, slowing down so not to cum too quickly and prolong my suffering humiliation, speeding up again, and, finally, grabbing my head and impaling me completely on his raging morning erection, burying my face in His stomach and cumming right into my stomach, saving the last spray to spit it out of His cock all over my latex face, aiming for my eyed and nose. Than, inserting His still hard cock back in my throat He rests, letting it deflate there - I feel it slowly shrinking inside me, creeping back up my throat towards my mouth, and, once there, delivering another bit of torturous humiliation I crave so much - flooding my helplessly-opened mouth with his acrid morning piss - and I know to swallow every disgusting, humiliating drop. So, with my eyes tearing from gagging and intense humiliation, I swallow and swallow, my mouth and nose filled with the disgusting taste and smell that I came to hate, love and crave so much... Being used as a bound, choiceless urinal had always drove me crazy - such intense level of humiliation is almost too much to bear. Riling impaled on His cock, feeling my stomach filling up, smelling His piss and not being able to resist in any way makes my horniness go to mind-paralyzing frenzy, and I am on the verge of passing out from sensory overload, and intense humiliation, swallowing, gagging, crying, feeling my imprisoned cockette press uncomfortably against the tiny cage... The acrid stream turns in to a trickle, and, finally stops. He pulls His cock out of my mouth and wipes it on my latex face as I swallow the last drops, shaking on my knees between His legs. This is only the beginning... Two inflatable rubber penis-shape dildoes are inserted into me, one into my well-used face pussy, another into my well-used ass, and inflated generously, so I can barely moan from the pressure inside my ass. The bulbs are removed, so now I have no way to deflate either one of them by myself. My cheeks are bulging under the tight latex and my ass is stretched around overinflated cavity... I should hate this torture, this degradation, I tell myself, but my compressed penis is pushing against its tiny cage, betraying my suffering... I want more! My hands are than freed, and, with his cum drying on my face and its, latex and urine smells and tastes filling my senses, I am set teetering on my ballet heels around the house, moaning and panting, to gather all the used clothes and toys, bringing them to the laundry room, where the Washing Machine stands. Every time I gingerly walk into the Laundry Room, gracefully balancing on my ballet heels, carrying a few things I can grab with my thick-latex- covered fingers, I tremble at the sight of an evil-looking metal contraption I am about to become a part of. As I mentioned before, the Washing Machine does not wash clothes. I wash everything by my latex-covered hands, while the insidious contraption makes the process torturous for me and entertaining for my audience. The Washing Machine stands in a middle of a large laundry room. There is a pole, attached to a heavy platform on the floor and a pivoting short horizontal beam at the crotch-level top. A ratcheting cuff is welded on the front, and a hinged, long, thick, widening at the bottom black dildo with penny-sized bumps, ominously sticking up in the back. As I stand over it, the ratcheted cuff is closed tightly just behind my chastity cage, and my body is strapped to a curved metal arm attached through the hinge to the beam between my legs. It goes up along my back with metal bands tightly encircling my compressed waist, chest and neck, holding me rigidly in. The heavy steel collar on the top of the arm hosts the contraption holding a long, semi-flexible silicone dildo inserted into my mouth, held open by a ring gag, just enough to touch the back of my throat when I stand straight. After I am fully secured, the bumpy monster between my legs in slowly inserted into my filled with lubricant ass, keeping me standing on my ballet heels trying to keep it going in further – the base of it widened to a size just beyond the physical capabilities of my hole, and I moan and cry into the dildo in my mouth, feeling every bump going in, getting wider, going deeper, invading me, stretching me... It is so inescapable, I cannot move away more than I already am, and it is pushed in all the way and that locked to the curved, hinged metal lever, cleverly attached to the pivoting base... I am now fully impaled on my ass, yet the dildo on my mouth is just slightly pushing against the back of my throat. When I have to bend, however, things change. Both dildos are ingeniously hinged in a way that when I have to bend, the pivoting joints and levers pull the bottom dildo out of my stretched ass, while pushing top one in, down my throat – the further I bend, the further the bottom one is pulled out of my suffering ass while inserting the top one deeper into my gagging throat, and since I am standing on the ballet heels, and the sinks in front of me are at the normal waist level, I have to bend far and deep. Everything around me is cleverly designed so I have to bend and turn for every task I need to do, for every piece of clothing or a toy that I have to wash, and since the bumpy monster in my ass does not rotate, I had to turn around it, feeling every bump along the way. Another torturously clever thing about the Washing Machine was that it can only be turned to the side when I stand up straight, so every task for every item I had to wash involved a lot of bending, straightening and turning. A marvel of kinky, torturous engineering. He is sitting, watching my slender, shiny, white latex-clad figure teeter around the house in those torturous, sexy ballet boots, bringing the items to the laundry room and placing them in the large basket, which sounds much easier than it really is. Ballet heels, corset and the posture collar means that I have to kneel to pick up every thing, straining against the thick, tight latex, moaning from the pressure of my overly inflated penis dildo inside my ass into the overly inflated penis gag in my mouth. And all the sweat, drool, cum and piss-covered latex suits, gags, hoods, pantyhose, panties, playsuits, dresses, leotards, swim suits, plugs and dildos are all over the place, so I have to walk and crawl all over the house to gather them. Having only my latex-covered hands to carry them takes a lot of walking around the house, and, sealed in my tight latex, filled to the almost unbearable brink on the inside and compressed to almost unbearable level on the outside, I am pushing through with my task under the satisfied gaze of my tormentor, knowing that there is no way for me to avoid it, shorten it or make it in any way easier. Every time I bring another armful of kinky items to the laundry room, I am faced with the instruments of my impending and inevitable sexual torture, and I both dread it and yearn for it... I am finally done gathering all the stuff that needs washing, and given a short break, consisting of kneeling down between my captor’s legs and gagging on His penis, inserted all the way down to his balls into my throat. He takes his time, letting my legs rest a bit (such a caring man!), and, after about half an hour of slowly sliding his dick back-and- forth inside my throat, deposits another cumload into my mouth and on my latex-covered face, smearing the smelly goo all over my second skin, making sure it gets into my hose and eyes, making me feel so wonderfully low... Than, getting me back on my super-kinky ballerina toes, He leads me to the Laundry Room. He makes me step over the center beam pulling me by my chastity cage, and locks the welded cuff tightly around my already locked privates, just behind the cage. The tight metal band around my tiny corseted waist is locked next, than the one around my flat chest and finally, the neck, gripped by the posture collar. The dildo is inserted past my cum-covered lips, held open by the ring gag, just to the back of my throat, but not in it. With the loud hiss the plug in my ass is deflated and for the moment I feel relief as it slides freely out of me and is thrown on the top of the dirty pile, but only for a moment. I feel a generous amount of cool- feeling lubricant squirted inside, than the dreaded bumpy dildo’s tip fills the void inside me as it is slowly pushed in. I feel every bump going in, moaning in torturous pleasure. Since I am standing vertically up, it has to be pushed in all the way to be attached to the Machine, and my tormentor takes no small amount of pleasure pushing it in, listening to my whimpering moans above him. It is so big and thick and long and bumpy! It fills me completely, past my tolerance point, and I desperately want to bend forward to get some relief, but the Washing Machine is still locked, and I suffer and endure, crying and moaning into the silicon dildo in my mouth. I finally hear the click of the bottom dildo being attached to the lever. Than I feel him fiddling with my chastity cage, and I know what he is doing. He is attaching the wires to the terminals of the contact pads inside the cage, on both sides of my poor, starved for attention penis’s head. The Washing Machine is ready. I am standing on the toes of the ballet boot, impaled ona giant bumpy monster. To the left of me, just below the waist level, there is a large basket full of soiled kinky stuff. In front of me, a sink with warm soapy water. To the right of me, there is an empty sink for rinsing and the basket for the clean kinky stuff. Standing in my ballet boots, fully impaled of the huge bumpy dildo and feeling another one in my mouth, am anxiously waiting to be tuned on, so I can begin my torturous and humiliating chore. First electric pulse shooting through the super-sensitive head of my imprisoned penis almost makes me jump, if that was possible. Instead, I just squeal into the dildo in my mouth, as other pulses follow – the Washing Machine is on... moaning with every jolt, I turn to my left making small steps with my ballet heels until I hear a click – I can bend now, and eager to relieve the enormous discomfort in my ass, I bend forward. As I lean my body forward, moving the metal harness encircling my upper body forward with the ratcheting sound and activating the levers, the bumpy invader in my ass starts to slide out, providing torturous but long-awaited relief, but at the same time the dildo in my mouth is pushed in by the same clever levers, entering my throat, traveling down my face fuckhole in unison with the bumpy monster being pulled out of my ass by the same action. The assault on the senses the double action is overwhelming, momentarily overshadowing even the electrical impulses shooting through the most sensitive part of my body, and I have to master all my strength to stay up on my ballet boots. I forget why I am bending, dazed by the simultaneous opposite penetration. The long dildo entering my throat quickly replaces the horny moans with gagging, it is going deeper and deeper as I am bending forward, and, as the telephone pole is pulled out of my quivering ass, the bumps on the dildo make me feel every one of them passing through my sphincter. I have to bend deep - the ratcheting mechanism would not release and allow me to strengthen back up until I bend all the way forward, inserting all twelve inches of the dildo into my throat, and, delirious with overstimulation, I keep bending forward, impaling my throat on the long thick dildo, feeling my ass being turned inside out by retreating bumpy monster. A click announces the release of the ratchet, ant it takes me a moment to remember what I need to do – with my throat fully impaled on a twelve- inch dildo and my sphincter contracting round the groove below the bumpy monster’s head, I grab the one of the items on the top of the pile – a pair of heavy-latex shorts with a hood attached to the crotch by the hood mask’s mouth, and the memories of the previous night spent bound with those shorts zipped tight around His ass and that hood zipped tightly around my head, His entire exhausted package stuffed in my ring-gagged mouth. I was literally His dick holster, and He did not have to get up to pee in the middle of the night either... I felt myself blushing under the latex, and, with the need to breathe getting more urgent, I start to straighten up, feeling the dildo being pulled out of my stomach, as the widening pole starts it’s torturous journey back all the way in, pushing its bumps through my sensitive ass, filling it once again, making me dizzy with horniness, as eclectic shocks zip through my penis... such an exquisite torture, and I haven’t even started washing the first item... As I straighten up, the top dildo is leaving my throat and I can moan again, as I am slowly, torturously and fully impaled on the bottom one by my own action. Hearing the click and moaning from the unbearable fullness in my ass, I turn on my ballet toes towards the soapy-water sink. Click – and, taking a deep breath, holding the cum and piss-stained latex garment, I begin to bend forward, repeating the impalement of my throat and once again feeling every bump on it’s way out of my perpetually abused ass. Bent forward, throat fully impaled, I wash the kinky garment with my latex fingers, knowing that if I start straightening up sooner that thirty seconds, I’ll receive a nasty shock to my privates, but since there is no clock, I have to count slowly to thirty, which is, in my position, is especially torturous. I wash the various dried body liquids out of all the nooks and crannies of the supple latex gaarnment, struggling to keep the count with my throat spasming around the dildo and my feet straining and cramping inside those beautiful, torturous ballet boots. When the count is over and my lungs are burning from the lack of air, I start straightening back up, repeating the gagging pulling of the long cock out of my throat, feeling it’s head travel through my deep face pussy and impaling my ass once again on the bumpy construction cone. Click. Moan. Bend. Gag. Rinse. 28... 29... 30... Straighten up. Click. Shake. Drop the clean item in the basket. Long turn back towards the big, smelly pile. Click. Repeat. Every single thing I wash requires this torturous process repeated over and over again... I am in sexy hell, or torturous heaven, either way, impaled, shocked, suffocated, cramped, I am delirious with humiliation, shame, discomfort, and insane, all-consuming horniness... I know he is watching me. He is not alone – there are cameras, staring at me with the eyes of dozens loyal perverts watching my struggle live on the internet from different angles, and that thought makes me even hornier. They will have their fun with me later, when I am bound, splayed, moaning, screaming, begging to stop doing the things they have came up with to make me moan, scream and beg... But that’s later. Now... Now, every time I straighten up, the dildo in my mouth is pulled out of my throat, and every time I begin to bend, it is inserted anew, making every insertion feel as torturous as the first one. Every time I bend, the bumpy dildo in my ass is pulled out until only the narrower head remains inside, and every time I straighten up it is inserted fully inside, making every insertion feel as torturous as the first one. My gagging, gasping for air moans are picked up by a sensitive microphone and transmitted along with multiple viewing angles of my latex-covered, bound and tortured form to the world. The dirty pile on the left is very slowly getting smaller, the clean wet pile on the right is slowly getting bigger, as I am getting more and more exhausted and delirious with overstimulation. I haven’t’ cum in a week, a week of constant sexual use and abuse, I so want to cum, I will die if I don’t cum, I cannot take this any more, please let me cum... Please... The mechanized torture goes on for eternity. As I get tired and more hysterical, I cannot keep count, and cannot even scream with my throat fully impaled on the dildo when I try to straighten up before thirty seconds pass and a painful shock is delivered to my poor dickie’s little pink head, and I trash in my bonds, racked with humiliating pain, hearing the pings of flooding comments from my invisible audience. The part of the entertainment they’ve been waiting for is beginning! I know that I have no choice but to finish my torturous, humiliating, degrading task and I push through, impaling my throat and my ass in turn several times for every little thing I have to wash, and there are so many of them! In a haze, legs shaking, hands trembling, ass and throat repeatedly invaded, penetrated, stretched, emptied and invaded again, moaning, gagging, crying, I turn, and bend, and straighten, and turn, and bend, and endure, passionately loving every torturous, humiliating second of this! Loving being part of that ingenious, evil torture device, loving the tightness of my outfit, the forceful penetration of my throat by the dildo, the impaling of my ass, the smell of latex, cum and piss filling my nostrils, loving being watched by a virtual crowd of loyal perverts, loving being an abused sissy fuckdoll! And when the last kinky thing is rinsed and placed in the clean bin, totally spent and exhausted, I feel almost sorry that there are no more things to bend for. I stand moaning and sobbing, my ass fully impaled on a giant bumpy monster, waiting to be released for a short break before my next task – hanging the cleaned items outside on the clothe line to dry, out in the back yard, exposed to the world in my submissiveness and humiliation... I wander, what will I be doing during the break?