Her Feminized Plaything

Victoria lived away in an elegant, discreet apartment. She was a dominant woman, a mistress in the truest sense, with a penchant for the peculiar and the provocative. Her lover, Alex, was a man who had fallen under her spell, willingly surrendering to her desires, no matter how taboo or unconventional. Their relationship was a dance of dominance and submission, a tango of trust and exploration. And one of Victoria’s most cherished fantasies was about unfold: transforming Alex into her feminized plaything.

Victoria had a deep-seated fascination with lingerie, makeup, and the delicate trappings of femininity. She loved the softness of silk, the lace that teased and tantalized, and the ritual of painting her face with colors that enhanced her beauty. But her pleasure was amplified when she shared these experiences with Alex, blurring the lines of gender and expectation.

One Friday evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Victoria decided it was time to indulge in her desires. She had planned everything meticulously, from the delicate lingerie on the bed to the array of makeup brushes and palettes arranged on her vanity.

“Alex,” she called her voice a sultry purr. “Come here, darling.”

Alex entered the room, his eyes widening at the sight before him. He knew what was coming, and his heart pounded w of excitement and nervousness.

“Tonight, we’re going to explore something new,” Victoria said, running her fingers over the lace of a baby pink bra. “I want to see you in these. I want to paint your face, make you my living, breathing doll.”

Alex swallowed hard, his body already responding to her words. “Yes, Mistress,” he whispered.

Victoria smiled, a slow, sensuous curve of her lips. “Good boy,” she said. “Now, strip for me.”

Alex obeyed, shedding his clothes until he stood naked before her. Victoria circled him, her eyes appraising, her touch light as she trailed her fingers over his skin.

“Perfect,” she murmured. “Now, let’s begin.”

She started with the stockings, rolling them up his legs, her touch firm yet gentle. The silk was cool against his skin, and he shivered as she secured them to the garter belt. Next came the panties, a lacy confection in the same baby pink as the bra. She had him step into them, pulling them up and adjusting them until they fit snugly against his body.

“Look at you,” she said, her voice low and husky. “Already filling them out so nicely.”

Alex blushed, his cock twitching as it strained against the lace. Victoria chuckled like dark honey, and moved on to the bra. She had him slip his arms through the straps, then reached around to fasten it, her breath hot on his neck.

“There,” she said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “You look divine. But we’re not done yet.”

She led him to the va and sat him on the plush stool. She started with his face, applying a light foundation and blending it into his skin with careful strokes. Then came the blush, a soft rose that accentuated his cheekbones. She dusted his eyelids with a shimmereyesyesh. Next, Victoria picked up a palette of eyeshadows, her fingers dancing over the colors as she decided which to use. She settled on a smoky eye, a blend of silvers and blacks that would make his eyes pop. She worked meticulously, blending and shading unwas satisfied with the result. She added a touch of eyeliner, her hand steady as she drew a thin line along his lash line, extending it slightly at the corners to give him a cat-eye look.

“Look at me,” she murmured, and Alex complied, his gaze meeting hers in the mirror. She smiled, pleased with her work. “Beautiful,” she said before moving on to his lips. She lined them first, then filled them in with a soft pink lipstick that matched his lingerie. She blotted his lips with a tissue, then added a touch of gloss for shine.

“Now,” she said, standing back to admire her handiwork. “Let’s see what we have here.”

Alex looked in the mirror, his eyes widened he saw his reflection staring back at him. He was unrecognizable, transformed into a delicate, feminine creature. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes smoldering, his lips full and pouty. He looked like a doll, a plaything, and the thought sent a shiver of excitement down his spine.

Victoria noticed his reaction and smiled. “You like it, don’t you?” she said, her voice a low purr. “You like being my little doll, my feminized plaything.”

Alex nodded, his breath coming in short gasps. “Yes, Mistress,” he whispered.

Victoria chuckled, a sound like velvet. “Good,” she said. “Because we’re just getting started.”

She led him back to the bed, where she had him lie down. She stood over him, her eyes roaming over his body, taking in every detail. She could see the bulge in his panties, his cock straining against the lace, and she smiled.

“Look at you,” she said, her voice teasing. “All dressed up and nowhere to go. Except… that’s not entirely true, is it?”

Alex shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “No, Mistress,” he said.

Victoria smiled, a slow, sensuous curve of her lips. “That’s right,” she said. “Because tonight, you’re going to go on a little journey. A journey into pleasure, into submission, into the deepest, darkest parts of your desires.”

She started with his feet, her touch light as she ran her fingers over his arches and toes. She could feel the tension in his body, the anticipation, and she smiled. She moved up his legs, her touch feather-light, teasing, until she reached his thighs. She could see the goosebumps on his skin, the way his cock twitched with every touch, and she knew she had him right where she wanted him.

She moved up his body, her fingers tracing patterns on his skin. She circled his navel, then moved up to his chest, her fingers brushing against his nipples. She could feel them harden under her touch, and she smiled. She leaned down, her breath hot on his skin, and took one nipple into her mouth. She sucked, her tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, and Alex gasped, his body arching off the bed.

“Mistress,” he moaned, his hands reaching for her.

Victoria t Victoria gently but firmly pushed Alex’s hands away. “None of that,” she chided softly. “You’re my plaything tonight, remember? And playthings don’t touch. They’re touched.”

Alex whimpered but complied, his hands falling back to his sides. Victoria smiled, pleased with his obedience. She turned her attention back to his nipples, lavishing the same attention on the other one, sucking and licking until Alex was writhing beneath her.

She sat up, straddling his chest, and looked down at him. His lips were parted, his breath coming in short gasps, his eyes glazed with desire. She could see the pulse fluttering in his neck, the flush of arousal on his skin. He was beautiful like at her mercy, his body a playground for her pleasure.

“Please, Mistress,” Alex begged, his desperate whisper. “Please, I need more.”

Victoria smiled, a slow, sultry curve of her lips. “More?” she asked, her voice a teasing purr. “More of what, my little plaything?”

Alex’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips. “More of you,” he said. “More of your touch, your taste, your… everything.”

Victoria chuckled, a sound like dark velvet. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” she said. “But I suppose you’ve been good. And good playthings deserve rewards.”

She shifted, moving up his body until she was kneeling over his face, her thighs framing his cheeks. She was wearing a black silk thong, and she could feel his hot breath against her pussy, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through her.

“Taste me,” she commanded, her voice a soft growl.

Alex complied eagerly, his tongue darting out to lick her through the silk. Victoria moaned, her head falling back as she ground against his mouth. She could feel his tongue, hot and wet, as he licked and sucked, his eager moans vibrating against her flesh.

She rode his face, her hips moving in slow, sensuous circles as she took her pleasure from him. She could feel the heat building in her belly, the tension coiling like a snake, ready to strike. But she wasn’t ready to come yet. She wanted to draw this out to savor every moment and every sensation.

She shifted again, moving back down his body until she was kneeling between his thighs. She looked down at him, her eyes taking in every detail. His lips were swollen and shiny from licking her, his cheeks flushed, his eyes bright with desire. He was panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his cock straining against the lace of his panties.

Victoria smiled, a slow, wicked curve of her lips. “Look at you,” she said, her voice a low purr. “All flustered and needy. It’s adorable.”

Alex whimpered, his hips arching up, seeking her touch. Victoria chuckled, a sound like honey and sin.

“Patience, my little plaything,” she said. “I’ll give you what you need. But first…”

She reached out, her fingers tracing the waistband of his panties. She could feel his cock, hard and hot, pressing against the lace, eager for her touch. She teased him, her fingers dancing over the fabric, tracing the outline of his cock, but never touching it directly. She leaned down, her breath hot on his skin as she whispered in his ear. “Do you want me to touch you, my little plaything? Do you want me to wrap my fingers around your cock and stroke you until you come?”

Alex moaned, his body trembling with need. “Yes, Mistress,” he begged. “Please, touch me.”

Victoria chuckled, a sound like velvet and smoke. “Since you asked so nicely,” she said, her fingers finally slipping inside his panties, pushing the lace to the side to reveal his straining cock.

She wrapped her fingers around him, her grip firm and sure. Alex gasped, his hips bucking up into her touch. She stroked him slowly, her fingers twisting and turning, exploring every inch of his cock. She could feel the veins pulsing beneath her touch, the heat of his arousal, the slickness of his pre-cum.

“Look at you,” she murmured, her voice a low purr. “So hard, so eager. You’re like a little slut, aren’t you? My little feminized slut, begging for my touch.”

Alex moaned, his body writhing beneath her. “Yes, Mistress,” he gasped. “I’m your slut, your plaything, your everything.”

Victoria smiled, a slow, sensuous curve of her lips. “That’s right,” she said. “And don’t you forget it.”

She increased her pace, her hand moving faster, stroking him with firm, sure strokes. She could feel his body tensing, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She knew he was close, she wanted to push him over the edge.

“Come for me, my little plaything,” she commanded her voice a low growl. “Come for me like the little slut you are.”

Alex cried out, his body convulsing as his orgasm hit him. Victoria stroked him through it, her hand milking his cock, drawing out every last drop of his pleasure. She watched as his cock pulsed and twitched, his cum spilling out onto his stomach, painting his skin with his desire.

When he finally stilled, Victoria released his cock, her fingers trailing over his sensitive flesh, drawing a shiver from him. She looked down at him, her eyes taking in every detail. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes glazed with pleasure, his body slick with sweat and cum. He was a mess, and he was beautiful.

“Good boy,” she murmured, her voice a soft purr. “You came so nicely for me. Like a little slut.”

Alex smiled weakly, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. “Thank you, Mistress,” he whispered.

Victoria chuckled, a sound like dark honey. “You’re welcome, my little plaything,” she said. “But we’re not done yet.”

She moved off the bed, standing and looking down at him. She could see the confusion in his eyes, the question, and she smiled.

“You didn’t think I was done with you, did you?” she said, her voice a teasing purr. “You’re my plaything tonight, remember? And I intend to play with you until I’m satisfied.”

Alex’s eyes widened, but he nodded, his body already responding to her words. Victoria smiled, pleased with his reaction.

“Good,” she said. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up. And then, we’ll start around Victoria, returning from the bathroom with a warm, damp cloth. She gently cleaned Alex’s stomach, wiping away the remnants of his orgasm. She took her time, her touch tender and caring, a stark contrast to the dominant mistress she had been mere moments ago. But this was the push and pull of their relationship, the ebb and flow of dominance and submissi of power and tenderness.

“There,” she said softly, tossing the cloth aside. “All clean.”

Alex looked up at her, his eyes filled w of gratitude and anticipation. “Thank you, Mistress,” he murmured.

Victoria smiled, a soft, gentle curve of her lips. “You’re welcome, my little plaything,” she said. She reached out, her fingers tracing the line of his jcheek, and his lips. “You’re so beautiful like this,” she said. “So soft, so pliant, so… mine.”

Alex shivered at her touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned into her caress. Victoria smiled, her heart swelling with affection and desire. She loved seeing him like this—so vulnerable andletely hers.

But she wasn’t done with him yet. Not by a long shot.

She stood up, her eyes roaming over his body, taking in every detail. She could see the flush of arousal on his skin, the way his nipples hardened under her gaze, the way his cock twitched, already eager for more. She smiled, a slow, wicked curve of her lips.

“Round two,” she said, her voice a low purr.

Alex’s eyes widened, but he nodded, his body already responding to her words. Victoria chuckled, a sound like dark velvet.

“Good,” she said. “Because I have so many more plans for you.”

She walked over to her closet, her hips swaying with each step. She opened the door, revealing a treasure trove of toys, clothes, and accessorizing accessories. Perusing her collection, she fangled the various items, trying to decide what to use next.

Her eyes landed on a pretty little maid roulette with a frilly apron and a lace headband. She smiled, a wicked glint in her eyes as she pulled it out and turned to face Alex.

“What do you think, my little plaything?” she said, her voice singing purr. “Want to be my little maid?”

Alex’s eyes widened as he looked at the outfit and then back at Victoria. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. But he nodded, his eyes filled with excitement and nervousness.

“Yes, Mistress,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Victoria smiled, a slow, sensuous curve of her lips. “Good,” she said. “Because I think you’ll look adorable in this.”

She helped him into the outfit, adjusting the straps and tying the apron around his waist. Then, she stepped back, her eyes taking in every detail. Alex stood before her, his cheeks flushed, his eyes downcast, his body encased in the frilly, feminine outfit. He looked perfect.

“Beautiful,” Victoria murmured, her voice a low pure beautiful.

Alex looked up at her, his eyes shining with pleasure at her words. Victoria smiled, her heart swelling with affection.

“Now,” she said, her voice taking on a more commanding tone. “Let’s see just how well you can serve me, my little maid.”

She gestured toward the floor, her meaning clear. Alex hesitated only for a moment before sinking gracefully to his knees, the frilly hem of the maid’s dress pooling around him. His hands trembled slightly as he placed them on his thighs, his posture obedient and demure.

Victoria stepped closer, the intoxicating scent of her arousal filling the air between them. She reached down, curling her fingers under his chin, lifting his gaze to meet hers. The anticipation in his eyes sent a delicious shiver through her.

“You look precious like this,” she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “All dolled up, waiting for my command. I wonder…” Her fingers trailed along his lips, tracing the curve of his mouth. “Can my little maid use that pretty mouth to please me properly?”

Alex’s breath hitched, and he nodded, his eagerness palpable.

Victoria smirked. “Good. Show me how devoted you are.”

She stepped back and settled onto the edge of the bed, spreading her thighs ever so slightly. The invitation was clear. Without hesitation, Alex crawled forward, his delicate lace-clad wrists resting against her knees as he looked up at her with silent pleading.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, guiding him toward his purpose. His lips met her with reverence, soft and seeking, before delving into deeper devotion. Victoria let out a slow, satisfied sigh, tilting her head back as she reveled in his obedience.

“Such a good little maid,” she purred, rocking her hips forward to meet his efforts. “This is exactly where you belong.”

The pleasure built between them, an unrelenting crescendo that left Victoria breathless. Her fingers tightened in his hair as she rode the wave of sensation, her body trembling as she reached the peak of her pleasure.

With a final, shuddering sigh, she released him, her chest rising and falling as she gazed down at him. Alex looked up, lips glistening, his expression one of complete submission and pride.

Victoria smiled, brushing a thumb over his damp lips. “Such a good little slut,” she whispered. “But your duties aren’t finished yet. There’s still so much more for you to do.”

She pulled him up onto the bed, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to his lips, letting him taste the reward of his devotion. As she laid him back against the pillows, her hands exploring his body with renewed intent, she whispered against his ear.

“I told you, my sweet plaything. You’re mine for the night… and I’m far from satisfied.”

The night stretched on, filled with laughter, moans, and the delicious sound of Alex’s eager obedience. By the time dawn began to creep in through the curtains, Victoria finally allowed them both to collapse into sated exhaustion, tangled together in the soft sheets.

She traced lazy circles on his bare chest, smiling as she pressed a final kiss to his temple.

“Sleep, my darling,” she murmured. “Tomorrow, we’ll play again.”

And with that promise lingering in the air, they drifted into the kind of slumber that only true pleasure and absolute surrender could bring.

Welcome To Sissy School

In the shadowy corners of the world, a reality unlike any other exists. A place where the lines of masculinity are blurred and the strong are brought to their knees. This is the story of Sissy School, a re-education facility where captured men are transformed into objects of feminine fancy for the amusement of their captors. Buckle up, dear reader, for we’re about to delve into a world of lace, lipstick, and unbridled lust.

The Arrival

The van pulled up to the nondescript building, its windows blacked out and its entrance guarded by two stern-faced women in crisp, white uniforms. The doors swung open, revealing a group of men, bound and gagged, their eyes wide with fear and confusion. They were prodded out of the van, stumbling in the bright sunlight before being led into the dimly lit building.

The entrance hall was a stark contrast to the exterior. Pink walls adorned with floral wallpaper, plush carpets, and ornate furniture greeted them. The air was thick with perfume, a cloying sweetness that made their heads spin. They were led to a large room, where their bonds were removed, and they were ordered to strip.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” a voice rang out, silencing the murmurs. A woman, tall and statuesque, her body encased in a latex catsuit, stood before them. Her lips were a vivid red, her eyes sharp and commanding. I am Mistress Victoria, the headmistress of Sissy School. You are here to be re-educated, to shed your toxic masculinity and embrace your feminine side.”

The men exchanged glances, their faces a mix of disbelief and amusement. They had no idea what was in store for them.

The Makeover

The first stop in their transformation was the beauty parlor. The men were lined up, naked and vulnerable, as a team of giggling girls armed with razors, wax, and creams descended upon them. They struggled at first, their masculine pride rebelling against the indignity. But the girls were persistent, their touch firm yet gentle, and soon, the men were left smooth and hairless.

Next came the makeup: foundation, concealer, blush, eyeshadow, lipstick—the works. The men squirmed as brushes tickled their faces, lips were painted a glossy red, and lashes were curled and darkened with mascara. When the girls finally stepped back, the men stared at their reflections in shock. Their rugged features had been softened, their eyes were large and doe-like, and their lips were plump and inviting. They looked like dolls, porcelain and delicate.

The final touch was the hair. Wigs of varying styles and colors were placed on their heads, the strands tickling their shoulders and backs. They were transformed, their masculinity stripped away, replaced by an alien and intoxicating femininity.

The Wardrobe

With their physical transformations complete, it was time to dress them up. The men were led to a vast wardrobe filled with every imaginable item of women’s clothing: lace, satin, silk, velvet—a sea of textures and colors that made their heads spin.

They were each given a set of lingerie – bras, panties, garter belts, stockings. The men fumbled with unfamiliar garments, their fingers slipping on satin and lace. The girls tittered as they watched, offering advice and correction, their hands smoothing over the men’s bodies, adjusting straps and straightening seams. The men blushed, their bodies reacting to the touch, their cocks stirring despite their embarrassment.

Once their undergarments were on, the men were dressed in various outfits: skirts, dresses, blouses, etc. Eacheach man was transformed into a different feminine archetype. There was a sexy secretary, a schoolgirl, a French maand id, and a nurse—each one more humiliating and revealing than the last.

Mistress Victoria surveyed her new charges, a smile playing on her lips. “Gentlemen, you look ravishing,” she declared. “But a true lady is more than just her appearance. It’s time for your lessons to begin.”

The Lessons

The men were led to a classroom, their heels clicking on the polished floor. They sat at desks, their skirts riding up, their stocking-clad legs on display. Mistress Victoria stood at the front of the room, her crop tapping against her palm.

“First lesson, ladies,” she begged, eyes sweeping over the room. Department. A lady must always sit with her back straight, her knees together, and her hands folded in her lap.” She demonstrated her base with a picture of grace and elegance. The men tried to mimic her, their bodies awkward and uncoordinated. Mistress Victoria watched, her crop flicking out to tap a knee or a shoulder, correcting their posture.

Next came the walking lesson. The men were made to practice, their heels wobbling as they tried to mas of walking in them. They stumbled and tripped, their laughter echoing through the room as they gras at each other for support. Mistress Victoria watched, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Remember, ladies,” she called out. “Small steps, hips swaying gently. You should glide, not stomp.”

The men giggled, their cheeks flushed with exertion and embarrassment. They were sweating, their makeup running, their wigs askew. But there was a spark in their eyes, a light that hadn’t been there before. Tenjoyedying themselves, their masculine pride slowly melting away, replaced by a giddy, feminine joy.

The Tea Party

After their lessons, the men were led to a large dining room. A delicate teaser was set on a table, and the china was painted with flowers and gold trim. They were seated, their skirts spread out, and their hands folded in their laps.

Mistress Victoria poured the tea, the steam rising in fragrant curls. “A true lady knows how to serve tea,” she instructed, demonstrating the proper way to hold the ppour and offer the cup. The men watched, their eyes wide, their hands trembling slightly as they tried to mimic her movements.

The tea was served with cakes and sandwiches, and the men nibbled daintily, their pinkies raised. They were giggling again, their voices high and breathy, their eyes sparkling. They were flirting, batting their lashes, and brushing their hands against each other. They were transformed; their masculinity shed old skin, and their femininity bloomed like a flower.

The Dance

As the tea party ended, the men were led to a ballroom. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the polished floor. Mistress Victoria stood in the center of the room, her body encased in a shimmering gown and her hair piled high on her head.

“Welcome, ladies, to your first dance,” she said, echoing through the room. “Tonight, you will learn the art of seduction, the power of a woman’s touch.”

She clapped her hands, and music began to play, a soft, sensual melody that filled the air. The men looked at each other, their eyes wide with nervous excitement. They had never danced like this before, their bodies pressed against each other, their hands touching, their breaths mingling.

Mistress Victoria demonstrated, her body moving with fluid grace, her hips swaying, her hands caressing her partner. The men tried to mimic her, their bodies awkward and uncoordinated at first, but slowly, they began to find their rhythm. They laughed, their cheeks flushed, their eyes bright. They touched each other, their hands exploring the curves of their bodies, their breaths coming in soft gasps.

As the music changed,dancedance. It became slower, more sensual, the men’s bodies pressing together, their hands gripping, their hips grinding. They were panting, their hearts pounding, their costiffhard and aching. They were lost in the sensation, their bodies alive with desire.

Mistress Victoria watched, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She let them dance, let their desire build, and let their bodies beg for release. Then, she clapped her hands abruptly, the mustops slapping.

“Lesson’s over, ladies,” she declared, her voice cutting through the thick air. “It’s time for your next task.”

The Boudoir

The men were led to a boudoir, a room filled with plush carpets, velvet chaises, and silk drapes. The air was thick with perfume, the light cast by dozens of candles, their flames flickering and dancing.

In the center of the room stood Mistress Victoria, her body encased in a corset and stockings, her breasts spilling over the top, her nipples hard and erect. She held a crop in her hand, her eyes gleaming with lust and power.

“Welcome, ladies, to your final lesson,” she said, her voice a husky purr. “Tonight, you will learn the art of pleasing a woman.”

She beckoned to one of the men, a blonde in a maid’s out. Herher liweres a pouty reand d, her eywere es wide and innocent. The maid approached, her hips swaying, her hands clasped behind her back. Mistress Victoria circled her, her crop trailing over the maid’s body, her eyes appraising.

“Kneel,” she commanded, and the maid sank to her knees, her head bowed, her hands resting on her thighs. Mistress Victoria stood before her, her legs spread, her pussy lips glistening with moisture.

“Pleasure me,” she ordered, and the maid leaned forward, her tongue flicking out, tentatively licking at Mistress Victoria’s clit. Mistress Victoria groaned, her head falling back, her hand tangling in the maid’s hair.

“That’s it, my little slut,” she moaned. “Lick me, taste me, make me come.”

The maid licked and sucked, her tongue a pink dart, her lips shiny mistresses Victoria’s juices. She was tentative at first, her touches light and exploratory, but as Mistress Victoria’s moans filled the air, she grew bolder, her licks firm she her suck deeper. She was lost in the taste, the scent, the feel of the woman before her, her body aching with a desire she had never known.

Mistress Victoria’s hips began to move, her body grinding against the maid’s face, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, her voice a husky moan. “Oh, you little slut, you’re making me come.”

The maid gripped Mistress Victoria’s thighs, her nails digging into the soft flesh, her mouth working feverishly. She could feel the tension in Mistress Victoria’s body, the tightening of her muscles, the pulsing of her clit. And then, with a cry, Mistress Victoria came, her body convulsing, her juices flowing.

The maid lapped at her, her tongue gentle now, her touch soothing. She looked up at Mistress Victoria, her eyes shining with pride and lust. Mistress Victoria smiled down at hand stroking the maid’s cheek.

“Good girl,” she purred. “You’ve learned your lesson well.”

One by one, the other men were called forward, each one kneeling before Mistress Victoria, each one pleasuring her with their mouths and tongues. She came for each of them, her body shuddering, her cries filling the air. And each time, she praised them, her voice a husky whisper, her touch a gentle caress.

As the last man knelt before her, Mistress Victoria looked out at her charges, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. They were flushed and panting, their lips shiny with her juices, their costiffhard and aching. They were transformed, their masculinity shed, their femininity embraced. They were hers, her sissies, her slaves.

The Orgy

With a wave of her hand, Mistress Victoria dismissed her charges, ordering them to pleasure each other, to show her what they had learned. The men turned to each other, their eyes shining with lust and excitement. They touched, their hands gentle, their fingers exploring. They kissed, their lips soft, their tongues tentative. They were hesitant initially; their touch was his ligands ht, and their movement wasn’t slow. But as their desire grew, so did their confidence.

The room filled with moans and gasps, with the wet sounds of sucking and licking, with the slap of flesh against flesh. The men were writhing, their bodies entwined, their limbs tangled. They were sucking cock, their lips stretched wide, their heads bobbing. They were licking pussy, their tongues delving deep, their faces shiny with juices. They were fucking, their hips grinding, their bodies shuddering.

Mistress Victoria watched, her eyes gleaming with lust and satisfaction. She moved among them, her crop tapping, her hands caressing. She praised them, her voice a husky whisper, her touch a gentle reward. And they responded, their bodies arching, their cries growing louder, their desire burning brighter.

As the night wore on, the men became more and more debauched, their acts more and more taboo. They were fisting each other, their hands slick with lube, their arms pumping. They were rimming, their tongues delving into tight, puckered holes. They wesuckinging toes, their lips wrapped around delicate digits, their tongues licking and sucking. They were exploring every inch of each other’s bodies, their touches intimate, their acts obscene.

In the corner, a group of men had formed a daisy chain, their mouths and asses aligned, their bodies a writhing, sucking, fucking machine. Their moans were constant, their bodies shuddering, their pleasure building with each thrust, each lick, each suck.

Nearby, another group was engaged in a fuck train, one man at the helm, his cock buried in the ass of the man before him, each man fucking the one in front, the last man thrusting into a realistic sex doll made to look like their Mistress. They were grunting, their hips moving in sync, their bodies a pistoning, thrusting, churning mass.

Mistress Victoria moved among them, her body glistening with sweat, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She was aroused, her nipples hard, her pussy wet, her clit throbbing. She watched them, her eyes gleaming with lust and pride. They were her creations, her sissies, her slaves. And they were perfect.

As the night wore on, the men’s acts became more and more extreme, their desires more and more depraved. They were fucking each other with strap-ons, their hips grinding, their bodies shuddering. They were sucking cock through glory holes, their lips stretched wide, their heads bobbing. They were being fucked by machines, their bodies bound, their asses filled, their cocks sucked by relentless, mechanical mouths.

And still, Mistress Victoria watched, her body aching with desire, her mind filled with lustful thoughts. She wanted them, all of them, their bodies, their cocks, their mouths. She wanted to fuck them, to be fucked by them, to taste them, to feel them, to consume them.

Unable to resist any longer, she moved into the writhing, wriggling, fucking mass, her body pressing against theirs, her hands touching, her mouth tasting. She was licking cock, her tongue swirling, her lips sucking. She was fucking ass, her strap-on filling, her hips grinding. She was kissing, her lips soft, her tongue exploring.

The men responded to her, their bodies arching, their cries growing louder, their desire burning brighter. They were fucking her, their cocks filling her, their hips moving in sync with hers. They were sucking her, their lips wrapped around her clit, their tongues licking, their fingers fucking. They were touching her, their hands exploring every inch of her body, their touches intimate, their acts obscene.

As the nipeakedpeak, the men were awash with sensation, their bodies aching, their minds reeling. They were fucking and sucking and licking and touching. They were crying out, their voices hoarse, their bodies shuddering. They were coming, their cocks pulsing, their asses clenching, their juices flowing.

And Mistress Victoria was with them, her body convulsing, her cries filling the air, her pleasure consuming her. She was coming, her pussy pulsing, her clit throbbing, her body a writhing, shuddering, convulsing mass.

As the night wore on, the men continued to fuck and suck and lick and touch. They were insatiable, their desires unquenchable, their bodies unstoppable. They were machines, fucking and sucking, driven by the relentless hunger Mistress Victoria had awakened in them. The air was thick with sweat, musk, and the heady scent of submission. Bodies tangled, mouths seeking, hands grasping, every inch of flesh used and worshipped.

But even the most insatiable beasts must succumb to exhaustion, and as the dawn began to creep through the heavy drapes, the frenzied energy gave way to the slow, languid movements of overstimulated bodies. Soft moans replaced guttural cries, lazy kisses replaced desperate suckling, and finally, one by one, they collapsed, spent and satisfied, into a tangled mass of limbs.

Mistress Victoria stood among them, surveying her handiwork with a sense of satisfaction that went beyond lust. These men, her perfect, obedient creations, lay at her feet, used, broken, and utterly devoted. She trailed her fingers over their flushed, glistening skin, memorizing the way their bodies still trembled with the aftershocks of their submission.

With a wicked smile, she gathered the leather collar from the bedside table—the one reserved for the most devoted of her sissies. Slowly, deliberately, she fastened it around the neck of the one who had pleased her most, the one who had taken everything, given everything, and begged for more. His body shuddered at the contact, his lips parting in a reverent moan.

“You belong to me now,” she whispered, her voice husky with satisfaction. “All of you do. And this is only the beginning.”

A chorus of soft, eager murmurs filled the room. Even in their exhaustion, they longed to be used again, to serve, to surrender.

Mistress Victoria chuckled, stretching her arms above her head, reveling in the deep ache of her own well-used body.

“Sleep now, my sweet little whores,” she purred. “Rest while you can. Because when night falls again, I will take you further than you ever thought possible.”

With that, she stepped back, slipping into the shadows, already planning the next deliciously depraved night.

And in the dim, sweat-drenched glow of dawn, her sissies drifted into restless dreams of the pleasures yet to come.

His Forced Feminization: A Dance with Dominance

Meet our protagonist, Alexander, a 35-year-old, stiff-necked, by-the-book corporate lawyer. He’s a guy who irons his socks and eats his toast in neat, right-angled triangles. His life is as structured as his tailored suits, and he likes it that way. Or so he thinks.

Enter Mistress Victoria, a dominant woman with a penchant for power games and a closet full of latex. She’s a fierce, well-formed businesswoman with a reputation for crushing men like grapes. And she’s got a secret weapon of information that’s about to turn Alexander’s world upside down.

It all started with a seemingly innocent email, a threat disguised as a friendly catch-up. Victoria had evidence of Alexander’s not-so-straight-laced past, a drunken night at a drag club where he’d let his hair down and his skirt up. She gave him a choice: embrace his feminine side for her amusement or kiss his career goodbye.

Alexander, with his neat life and neat job, chose the former. Little did he know, he was stepping into a world of humiliation, degradation, and unexpected arousal.

The Transformation Begins

The first package arrived at his apartment, a plain brown box filled with lace, satin, and a pair of heels that gleamed like black AA note waste, scrawled in Victoria’s looping handwriting: “Put these on. I’ll be watching. – V”

Alexander’s heart pounded as he held up the panties, a scrap of lace that seemed to mock his masculinity. He slipped them on, the fabric cool against his skin. They were surprisingly comfortable, the lace soft and yielding. He felt a strange thrill, a spark of arousal that he quickly suppressed.

Next came the stockings, silky and smooth, caressing his legs like a lover’s touch. He rolled them up, feeling a sense of anticipation, of taboo excitement. He clipped them to the garter belt, the snap of the clasps echoing in the silence.

The bra was more challenging, a contraption of straps and hooks that left him feeling trussed up and restrained. Looking in the mirror, he saw a different person staring back. Someone softer, more vulnerable. Someone… aroused.

The heels were the final touch, transforming his stance, posture, and demeanor. He wobbled like a newborn foal, but there was also a gritty, ace femininity that was undeniable.

A buzz from his phone. A message from Victoria. “Very nice. But you’re missing something. – V”

A moment later, the doorbell rang. A delivery man stood there, holding a wig box. Alexander signed for it, his cheeks burning as the man gave him a curious look.

The wig was long and blonde, the hair soft and silky. It smelled faintly of perfume, a sweet, feminine scent that sent a shiver down his spine. He placed it on his head, tucking his own hair underneath, and suddenly, Alexander was no more. In his place stood Alexandria, a woman poised on the precipice of discovery.

Another message from Victoria. “Tonight, 8 PM. Wear something nice. – V”

Alexander, now Alexandria, spent the afternoon in a daze, his mind flickering between panic, humiliation, and a curious excitement. He stood in front of his closet, pushing aside his suits to reveal clothes he’d never noticed before: a. A silk blouse his ex had left behind and a pair of jeans that hugged his curves in a way his trousers never did.

He settled on a simple black dresser that cinched at the waist and flared over his hips. It was conservative yet feminine, a perfect reflection of his conflicting emotions. He applied makeup, shaking hands as he drew on eyeliner and dabbed lipstick. The face staring back at him was a stranger’s yet familiar, too, like a long-lost friend.

At 8 PM sharp, there was a knock at the door. Victoria stood there, resplendent in a red latex dress that clung to her like a second skin. Her lips were painted to the mat, and ch; he was, yes, lined with kohl. She looked dangerous and powerful, and Alexander felt a thrill of fear and arousal.

“Alexandria,” she purred, her gaze raking over him. “You look… delicious.”

He blushed, his cheeks flushing under the makeup. She found like tinkling bells and stepped inside, her heels clicking on the wooden floor.

“Tonight, we’re going out,” she announced, her eyes shining with mischief. “I want the world to see my newest… acquisition.”

Panic surged through him, but noddeding, his body moving of its own accord. He grabbed his coat, a trench hiding his dress, and followed her to the door.

Her car was sleek and black, purring like a jungle cat. She drove fast, her hands steady on the wheel, her eyes flicking every now and then, a smirk playing on her lips. He squirmed in his seat, his body responding to her gaze, his cock stirring in his panties.

The club was dark, the air thick with smoke and perfume. Victoria led him through the crowd, her hand on his arm, her touch burning through the fabric of his coat. He kept his eyes down, his heart pounding, his body throbbing with fear and excitement.

She chose a booth in the corner, a private nook where the lights were dim, and the music was a distant throb. She slid in, her latex dress squeaking against the leather, and patted the seat beside her. He sat, his back straight, his hands folded in his lap.

“Relax, Alexandria,” she murmured, her hand on his thigh. “You’re safe with me.”

Safe wasn’t the word he’d use. Trapped, maybe. Captivated, certainly. His cock was hard, straining against the lace of his panties, begging for release. But he sat still, his body tense, his mind racing.

Victoria ordered drinks, a whiskey for Hander and a cocktail for him. He sipped it, the sweet liquid burning his throat, his eyes watering. She watched him, her gaze intense, her lips curved in a smile that sent a shiver down his spine.

“Dance with me, Alexandria,” she said suddenly, her eyes gleaming in the dim light.

He balked, his eyes widening. “I… I can’t,” he stammered, his voice barely audible over the music.

Her smile widened a predator’s grin. “You can, and you will. Unless you’d prefer I share those photos with your colleagues.”

Her words were a splash of cold water, a harsh reminder of his predicament. He stood, his legs shaking, and followed her onto the dance floor.

The music was a pulsing beat, a throbbing rhythm that echoed his heart pounding. Victoria moved against him, her body pressing against his, her hands roaming over his curves. He could feel her breath on his neck, her scent surrounding him, her presence consuming him.

He moved tentatively at first, his body stiff, his steps awkward. But the music was insistent, Victoria’s touch persuasive, and soon, he was moving with her, his body swaying, his hips grinding against hers. He felt a rush of exhilaration, a sense of freedom, of liberation. He felt… aroused.

His cock was hard, pressing against her thigh, a silent confession of his excitement. She grinned, her hand snaking down to cup him, her fingers tracing the outline of his erection. He gasped, his body shuddering, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Look at you, Alexandria,” she murmured, her voice a husky purr. “Dancing like a little slut, cock hard, body begging for more. You’re a natural.”

His eyes shot open, his cheeks flushing. But he couldn’t deny the truth in her words. He was enjoying this—the dance, the touch, the taboo, all of it.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. “I want you to fuck me, Alexandria. Right here, right now.”

His eyes widened, his body tensing. “What? Here?” he stammered, his voice a high-pitched squeak.

She chuckled, her hand squeezing his cock. “Yes, here. I want you to l up your pretty little dress, pull down those lacy panties, and fuck me. I want you to show everyone what a good little slut you are.”

He looked around, his eyes darting from one face to another. The club was crowded, the dance floor packed, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention. The music was loud, the lights dim, the air thick with smoke and sweat and sex.

He turned back to Victoria, his heart pounding and his body throbbing. She was watching him, her eyes gleaming with Challe, and her lips survived in a smirk. He took a deep breath, his body shaking with fear and excitement.

Then, slowly, he lifts his dress.

The cool air was a shock, a stark contrast to the heat of his body. He could feel the crowd’s gazerowd, their eyes burning into his skin, their attention focused on him. He felt exposed, vulnerable, and humiliated. And yet, he felt alive.

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his panties, his hands shaking as he slowly pulled them down. His cock sprang free, hard and eager, the cool air a caress against his heated flesh. He heard a gasp, a murmur, a whisper, but he kept his eyes on Victoria, his gaze locked onto hers, using her as his anchor in this storm of sensation.

Victoria’s eyes flicked down, her gaze raking over his exposed flesh. She licked her lips, a slow, deliberate motion that sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. Then, she hiked up her latex dress, revealing her smooth, bare pussy.

“Fuck me, Alexandria,” she commanded, her voice a husky growl.

He stepped closer, his body pressing against hers, his cock nestling against her hot, wet flesh. He could feel her heat, her desire, her need. It mirrored his own, a pulsing, throbbing urgency that demanded release.

He entered her slowly, his body shaking with a mix of excitement and nervousness. He felt a moment of resistance, a brief second of tension, before he slid inside, her body enveloping his, her heat surrounding him.

They moved together, their bodies dancing to the rhythm of the mandmandm of their desire. He could feel her breath on his neck, her scent surrounding him, her body consuming him. He felt a rush of exhilaration, a sense of freedom, of liberation, of raw, unadulterated lust.

He felt the eyes of the crowd, their gaze burning into his skin, their attention focused on him. He felt exposed, vulnerable, and humiliated. And yet, he felt alive. He felt desired, wanted, needed. He felt like a woman, like a goddess, like a slut.

He fucked her harder, his body slamming against hers, his cock pounding into her. He could feel her body responding, her muscles tensing, her breath hitching. He could feel her orgasm building, her body tightening around his.

Then, with a sudden cry, she came, her body convulsing, her muscles clenching, her juices flooding his cock. He followed her over the edge, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm, his cock pulsing, his seed spilling into her.

They stood thmomentarilyment, their bodies entwined, their breaths mingling, their hearts pounding in sync. Then, slowly, he pulled out, his body shaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

He looked around, his eyes darting from one face to another. The crowd was watching them, their eyes wide, their mouths open, their expressions a mix of shock, awe, and arousal. He felt a rush of embarrassment, a wave of humiliation, a thrill of excitement.

He looked back at Victoria, his gaze locking onto hers. She was watching him, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction, her lips curved in a smirk. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear.

“Good girl, Alexandria,” she murmured, her voice a soft purr. “You’ve pleased your mistress well.”

He blushed, his cheeks flushing, his body throbbing with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. He felt a sense of accomplishment, of pride, of satisfaction. He felt like he’d passed an est, proven himself, and earned his place.

Victoria pulled away, her body separating from his. He felt a sense of loss, of emptiness, of abandonment. But she didn’t go far. She simply adjusted her dress, smoothown the latex, befreturningback to him.

“Now, be a good girl and clean up your mess,” she commanded, her voice firm, her tone brooking no argument. He looked at her, his eyes wide, his mind racing. Clean up his mess? What did she mean? He glanced down, his gaze landing on his cock, still hard, still glistening with their combined juices. And suddenly, he understood.

He dropped to his knees, his body shaking with a mix of humiliation and arousal. He could feel the eyes of the crowd, their gaze burning into his back, their attention focused on him. He felt exposed, vulnerable le, and degraded. And yet, he felt a thrill of excitement, a taboo delight, a forbidden pleasure.

He leaned in, his tongue flicking out, tentatively licking the head of his cock. He tasted their juices, their desire, their lust. He tasted the salt of his seed, the sweetness of her arousal. He tasted their sex, their passion, their need.

He licked again, his tongue swirling around the head, his mouth opening to take him in. He felt a sense of wrongness, a feeling of taboo, a thrill of forbidden desire. He was cleaning his cock, licking his seed, tasting his own arousal. He was a man, and yet, he was acting like a woman, like a slut, like a whore.

But he couldn’t stop. He took himself deeper, his mouth working his shaft, his tongue licking, his lips sucking. He could feel his body responding, his cock hardening, his desire growing. He could feel his humiliation, his degradation, his excitement, his arousal.

He looked up, his eyes meeting Victoria’s. watchedhing him, her gaze intense, her lips parted, her breath hitching. He could see her arousal, her desire, her need. He could see her pleasure, her satisfaction, her enjoyment.

He sucked harder, his body working his cock, his mouth pleasuring him, his tongue teasing him. He could feel his orgasm building, his body tensing, his desire growing. He could feel his humiliation, his degradation, his excitement, his arousal.

Then, with a sudden cry, he came, his body convulsing, his cock pulsing, his seed spilling into his mouth. He swallowed, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm, his mind reeling with the intensity of his experience.

He pulled away, his body separating from his cock, his mouth releasing his shaft. He felt a sense of emptiness, of loss, of abandonment. But he also felt a sense of accomplishment, satisfaction, and completion.

He looked up at Victoria, his eyes meeting hers. Watching him, her gaze soft, her lips curved in a smile. She leaned down, her hand cupping his cheek, her thumb stroking his skin.

“Good girl, Alexandria,” she murmured, her voice a soft purr. “You’ve pleased your mistress very well.”

He blushed, his cheeks flushing and his body throbbing with a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. He felt a sense of pride, satisfaction, and happiness. He felt like he’d passed another exam like he’d proven himself again and earned his place again.

Victoria straightened, her body pulling away from his. She adjusted her dress, smoothed the latex, and returned to him. She held out her hand, her fingers curling in a beckoning motion.

“Come, Alexandria,” she ordered, her voice firm and tone brooking no argument. It’s time to go home.

To Be Continued…

Femme Lilly

“Light up, Light up, strike a match, and watch the flames burn bright.” –  Lil Wayne