2 comments/ 67838 views/ 0 favorites High Society By: MungoParkIII * * * * * Click Here to listen. (4.5 min/mp3) * * * * * She was always so prim and proper and though never one to unduly criticize she'd turn her head in shock when others talked of the way some slut came on to a boyfriend or brother of theirs. With her you had to have manners and you were expected to actually take her out on dates if you wanted to spend time with her. Not one of these spur of the moment dates, no, it was to be a formal date, set at least several days in advance. If a guy didn't understand her way she'd be the first to correct him, and she was known to have spurned some incredible guys who tried to shortcut some of the ritual. The first date, normally a nice dinner and a show, might lead to heartfelt conversation and either a quick kiss on the cheek or perhaps the gentlest touch of lip to lip, but nothing more. A whispered, "Goodbye, may I call you?" seemed to be the preferred response. A second date might be granted following a positive first date and as long as a polite and formal request followed in a comfortable amount of time. An afternoon outing capped off with dinner was a wise approach to the second date, the additional time together in the afternoon combined with polite conversation might lead to a bit more than holding hands. Perhaps a stolen kiss at the appropriate time would be welcomed, a light embrace, the touch of fingertips to her face and if done reverently, a touch to her neck. If all went well then as the date ended, her lips might part inviting a tongue the slightest entry into her mouth. If she received flowers or a card after a second date and a timely request earnestly followed she might accept a request for a third date. It would begin with dinner followed by a proper, but often hasty retreat usually to a hotel room. Once inside, she'd quickly maneuver into the bathroom where she'd allow herself the appropriate time to undress and then, if the lights were out, she quickly move naked into the bed. The first time she made love it was missionary so she'd lean back, and after some kissing, fondling with hands and perhaps some kissing of her breasts, she reach down, touch her lover's cock for the first time and guide it into her pussy. Too demure to let a man please her too much that first time, and realizing what affect she had on them, she'd watch the man slowly lose himself in her, finally panting and moaning as they came inside her. It was especially pleasing to her to feel how the once hard, proud cock would slip helplessly flaccid from her. A fourth date was usually a room service dinner followed by her undressing in front of her lover. Once naked she might get up on hand's and knees and let him take her from behind, or perhaps it was missionary again, but with the lights on. This time, she'd touch his cock with her hands, stroking it some while perhaps letting him push a finger into her. If the man could hold off his orgasm, she'd let herself go, actually letting the sensation of her lover's body take her, momentarily, away from her prim and proper world into the wet, urgent one of ecstasy. Another date then meant oral sex, where she would throw off her inhibitions and open her legs to his face, his mouth and his tongue. She'd let him taste her pussy, let his tongue open her lips and let his lips suck in her clit as she'd grind against his face in a most unladylike fashion. As she came she'd moan loudly perhaps even calling out his name. When finished, she'd regain her composure and let him either fuck her, or she would take him into her mouth. She would stroke the shaft with her fingers and hand and suck on the head. He could come in her mouth, but she quickly jumped up and spit it into the sink. Swallowing might come later. Everyone agreed she was a complete lady, and though she was perhaps demanding, they realized this was the way a modern, cultured and civilized woman should approach a relationship. At first they didn't see the lesions, she properly covered them with makeup, later scarves helped as did a daily barrage of pills. She battled it valiantly, just as they thought she would, as a strong, modern and discerning woman was expected to fight. By the end "they" were gone and she was forgotten. It wasn't a prim and proper way to die. At her last breath it was one of "those sluts" who used to throw themselves at the men, who held her hand.   High Society in Newport It was a brisk Saturday afternoon in Newport, Rhode Island. The wind blew slightly as the strong sun beamed down on the many shoppers frequenting the stores in this quaint New England town. Being August, tourists were everywhere to be seen. While most were there just for the weekend, some had owned or rented summer homes. In a slightly more secluded area, away from much of the hustle and bustle of the streets, two women sat at a patio table outside a small Italian café. Sipping away on their lattes, it appeared that they didn't have a care in the world. These were summer renters. It was in this manner that they spent most of their Saturday's, while their husbands were off yachting or another activity they found equally as boring. "So where's Harry today? Fumbling around with that stupid boat again?" exclaimed one of the women, Anne Segar. She was in her mid-40's, and time was good to her. For having two children, she managed to keep her body finely toned. Her younger child, Diane, had just turned 15 while her older son, Michael, 18, was a senior in high school and would be leaving for college soon. She wore a floral print summer dress. A tiny amount of cleavage from her C-cup breasts peered through. The spaghetti straps resting on her nicely tanned skin met with her shoulder length brunette hair. "You know, I didn't even ask when I left the house." Marissa Fleming responded with a slight chuckle in her voice. Marissa was around the same age as Anne, but had no children. She was also a brunette. A short beige skirt didn't leave a lot to the imagination, as many men walking by would gauche at her toned legs. Covering her small but perky breasts she wore a black and green off the shoulder top. "Oh, men... What do we need them for?" "You know damn well what we need them for. My two times a week with Harry is all that keeps me going!" "Marissa, please tell me you are joking. You guys still have sex twice a week?" Anne replied with a shocked look on her face. "Sorry honey, but its true. You guys must at least be once a week." Anne's face dropped towards the ground in disappointment. Her wavy brunette hair was covering most of her face. "Once a month?" Tears began to form in the corners of Anne's hazel eyes. "Anne, just tell me." Anne looked up at Marissa and opened her mouth. Her voice crackled when she spoke, "We haven't had sex in months. I don't think Peter loves me anymore." "Honey, don't cry. It is not that he doesn't love you. It is just that you aren't making him work for it. Trust me." Marissa stood up to give Anne a hug. Together they left the café. ***** A couple hours later, Marissa pulled her silver Lexus into Anne's summer rental. She adjusted her skirt, and walked up the cobblestone path towards the house. Once inside Marissa looked to the left and saw two boys sitting in the living room. They were sprawled out on the couch watching MTV. One was Michael Segar, Anne's son. The other was Michael's friend Tommy. They were "summer friends" which basically meant that the only time they ever saw each other was when their families were in Newport. "Hi boys. Is mom at home?" Michael replied, "Yeah she's in the kitchen." "Thanks Michael. Nice to see you again Josh." Marissa shot a cheeky smile in his direction. "Um, you too Mrs. Fleming." As she entered the kitchen, Michael looked over at Josh and quietly said, "What was that all about?" "Um it's probably nothing," Josh was quick to reply. ***** Anne was busy cutting carrots on the granite kitchen countertop. "Wow hun. The way you cut those carrots makes me glad I'm not a guy." Anne looked up at her. "Only kidding. Don't kill me." "Marissa, what are we ever going to do about me? I'm such a lost cause." Anne and Marissa walked over to the kitchen breakfast table and sat down. Anne was clearly upset and Marissa had a genuine look of concern on her face. Marissa was hesitant to open her mouth to reveal what has was about to say. This was Marissa's secret to happiness. It was the one thing that kept her going after all this years in a dead end marriage. What made it hard to say was that she never felt it necessary to tell anyone up to this point. Finally, she leaned over to Anne and in a faint whisper she said, "I'm in a secret society." "What???" Anne exclaimed with a very confused look on her face. "A secret society. Like an exclusive club for members." "Like our country club?" "Um not exactly." "So then what is it?" Marissa leaned even closer to Anne to make sure the boys in the other room couldn't hear their conversation. "Its more like a society for sexual gratification." "A sex club?" Anne said in a startled voice a little louder than she probably should have. "Does Harry know?" "Ok calm down. First of all Harry does not know. That's what's so great about it. Second, it's not a sex club. It's a 200 year old society established for the betterment of its members." "But you cheat on your husband." "Well it's a means to help our marriage." "So how exactly does that help your marriage?" "Simple. I take advantage of the society about once a month, and get sexually satisfied which makes me happy. And as we all know men only want to see women happy if they are personally responsible. So I let him think his small penis in bed is what is satisfying me. That's why we fuck twice a week. He believes I am happy cause we fuck, when in reality we fuck cause I'm happy. In the end everyone is a winner!!" Anne leaned back in her seat in utter amazement. She began to ponder how she could have not known about this until now. Marissa always seemed so happy, but Anne always assumed she was just a happy person. Never in her wildest imaginations would she think that Marissa was in a 200 year old secret society. Those are the types of things you see in movies, not real life. Anne had to admit though, she was intrigued. "I want you to join, Anne. You need this as much as I did when I joined." "I just don't know. Secret societies? Having sex with other men? It all seems a little crazy." "You need this." Marissa forcefully exclaimed. "Only members can recruit new members. And you only recruit a sure thing. Since I told you about the society it puts me in jeopardy with the council of elders. So if you don't join I could get into a lot of trouble simply because you know about us. I need to know, are you in or are you out?" "Well...I am really curious. But it all seems like so much." Anne looked up from the table and caught a glimpse of a photograph hanging on the wall. It was Peter and Anne sitting on a Jamaican beach during their honeymoon. Her eyes began to water when she thought about how carefree and content they were back then. And how now everything seems to have gone to shit. Her attention was brought back to Marissa. Anne looked her dead in the eyes, "Where do I sign up?" ***** Three days later was the big day. Marissa had delivered specific instructions to Anne about how the proceedings would go. Anne was to enter a trial period to make sure she could adhere to the rules of the society. At the end of the trial period, she could potentially become a full member. Around 3 pm, she heard a knock on the front door. A courier dressed in a blue uniform awaited on the other side with a rather large box. All that was written on top was "Anne" and some sort of symbol that looked like an oval shaped eye inside a square. Luckily, her husband Peter would be away most of the day and night on the yacht. The kids were all at friend's houses, so she didn't need to sneak the box upstairs. As soon as the courier left, Anne ripped open the box. Her heart was beating a mile a minute with excitement. Inside was a brown hooded cloak that you would imagine a monk would wear, a red feathered mask and a note. She picked up the note which had the same symbol at the top as on the box. It read: "Anne, today is the day of reckoning. Should you complete the night's activities you will be one step closer to becoming a member of our society. Backing out now would cause irreversible damages, so we suggest you continue. At 9 pm tonight, a car will come by to pick you up. You shall be wearing the cloak at this time. Underneath you shall only wear a bra and underwear, and nothing else. Put the hood on the cloak over your head and put the mask on. Tell no one." That night, about an hour before Anne was supposed to leave she stepped into the shower. She closed her eyes and imagined what the night would bring. The shower water crept down her mature, yet toned body. Anne rubbed a bar of soap over her c-cup tits and silver dollar sized pink nipples. She slowly worked her way down her body until she arrived at her fully shaved pussy. Grabbing the removable shower head, Anne let the water pressure massage her clit. A few deep moans were let out before she realized she needed to get going. Sifting through her underwear drawer, Anne needed to decide what to wear. No one had seen her panties in years besides her husband. Eventually, Anne decided on a matching black and red striped thong and matching bra. She put on the brown cloak and mask as she waited eagerly by the front door for the car to arrive. ***** Almost exactly at 9 pm, a silver Lexus pulled into the driveway. A sigh of relief fell over Anne knowing that it was Marissa picking her up. In the car the conversation was entirely about the night's activities. "So there are two main rules to follow, Anne. You must follow these rules exactly or face serious consequences. First off, do not take off your mask until you are on your way home. The second rule is that you cannot try to engage anyone in conversation. In other words, don't talk at all. It's really important that everyone's identity remains a mystery." After driving for about 20 minutes, the two women arrived at a home in one of Newport's renowned wealthy neighborhoods. The car creped down the long driveway until a rather large Victorian style mansion appeared before them. Marissa looked over at Anne, "Ok this is the place. You ready for this?" After letting out a quick sigh, Anne replied, "Ready as I'll ever be." "Well you'll be great girl. Get out of the car and walk around the house until you get to a patio. Go through the white door and down the steps. And then just wait." "Wait for what?" "You'll know when you see it. Get going, and don't forget about the rules!" Around the house to the patio Anne went. Gusts of wind moved up the inside of her cloak touching her almost naked body, sending shivers down her spine. Reaching the white door, she turned the knob and walked inside. At the bottom of the steps she entered a dimly lit room. From what she could see, the room looked like any other one would see in a house. The floors were carpeted and there were two black leather couches in the middle of the room. She stood in the middle of the room not knowing what to do. Behind her Anne heard a creek and could make out someone walking down a different set of stairs. From the figure's size it appeared to be a man wearing a similar brown cloak to Anne's. He moved just inches away from her. Unlike Anne's mask, his was the color blue and looked way more elaborate. Knowing they couldn't speak, the two just gazed into each others eyes for several seconds. Then without warning, the man took hold of Anne's cloak and pulls its back off her shoulders. It dropped to the ground leaving Anne standing there only wearing a mask, high heels, bra and panties. He slightly lowered his head and gave her a kiss on the lips, which she welcomed wholeheartedly. Stepping back, the man pulled off his own cloak. Underneath, the only had on a pair of tight fitting blue boxer shorts. What got Anne's attention though was his body. It was chiseled and more muscular than her husband's body ever was. In fact, Peter had developed a nice sized beer gut in recent years. This man looked much more youthful, which really turned Anne on thinking he might be slightly younger than her. He pulled her in close, pressing her tits into his chest. They kissed again, this time much more passionately. Anne's hands roved around the man's muscular physique. He gently kissed her on the neck and shoulder. Meanwhile, his hands moved towards her back and unfastened the clasp of her bra. Anne let it drop to the floor. With each kiss, he slowly moved his way down her neck towards her chest. Grabbing her c-cup tits in his hands, he teased her by kissing around the outside of her nipples. With the very tip of his tongue, the man finally made contact. Anne jumped slightly in excitement. He took one of her nipples in his mouth and lightly sucked on it. Anne impulsively got bold, and reached her right hand towards his boxers. It came to rest over the outline of his cock. Giving it a little squeeze, it appeared to already be getting hard. Not wanting to wait another second, she reached her hand down inside his boxers. With five fingers she grasped his now fully hardened meat. Giving it a couple jerks, the man gave off a soft groan. Kneeling down onto the floor, she slowly pulled his underwear to the ground. In front of her was a rock hard cock, something she hasn't seen in a long time. It was also about an inch longer than her husband's and also slightly thicker too. The sight made her immediately wet. Still nervous, Anne thought to herself, "Come on Anne. You can do this. You need this. Just suck his cock like you are still in college. Its like riding a bike, you never forget how." Her mouth crept towards him. After what seemed to be an eternity for both the man and Anne, she finally took his cock inside her mouth. The man's eyes rolled toward the back of his head. She grabbed both of his thighs and pulled herself closer to him. Anne's tongue caressed the length of his shaft, as she moved it in and out of her mouth. It pleased Anne that she could still manage to take most of it inside her mouth. It really was just like her old college days. As she played with the tip of his penis, his body squirmed a little. He let out another sigh. Not wanting him to blow his load so soon, Anne pulled his cock out from her mouth. Still kneeling, she looked up into his eyes hoping that she might figure out who his man was. But nothing came to mind. The man pulled Anne up off the ground. She put her hands on each of his well defined biceps and gave them a little squeeze. "Oh if only Peter had a body like this," Anne thought to herself. He bought her in closer toward him, and gently pulled down her black and red striped thong to her ankles. The two back up towards one of the black leather couches. As Anne sits down on the armrest, the man pulls her left leg up next to her on the couch to spread her pussy. Without delay, he guided his hard cock into her. With the first couple thrusts, Anne let out a soft moan. Starting slow, he moved his shaft in and out of her wet pussy. Her entire body starts to quiver with excitement. The man starts to pound his cock into her faster and harder. Anne tried to muffle her moans with by biting her bottom lip, but she found it uncontrollable. "Oh fuck me hard," Anne screams out, forgetting the rule about not talking. She quickly covered her mouth with embarrassment knowing that she committed a sin. He looked into her eyes and smiles. His hand rubbed up and down her tanned thigh. Pulling out for a second, the man lowered Anne backwards from the armrest to the couch. She marveled at his defined muscular physique as he stood over her. He laid down on top of her, so that his well carved chest pressed against her perky tits. Anne, wrapping her arms around his body, pulled him closer. He inserted his cock back into her pussy, and let it slide in and out of her. Their bodies bounced up and down on the couch cushions with each thrust. After a couple minutes he leans towards her and whispers into her ear, "I need to cum." Assuming that they are now ignoring the no talking policy, Anne replied in a normal voice, "Well baby, stand up then." He immediately jumped to his feet. With his cock standing practically straight up, Anne grabbed it with her hand. She moved her head towards his shaft and put the tip in her mouth. After giving it several jerks with her hand, a river of hot gooey cum gushed into her mouth onto her tongue. Looking into his eyes she swallowed. The man sat down next to her on the couch. He opened his mouth and says, "Fuck that was good." Anne jumped up with surprise off the couch and yelled out, "I know that voice!! No fucking way!! It couldn't be." Without hesitation she reached for his mask and yanked it off his face. "Tommy!! I knew it!! I can't believe I just had sex with my son's friend. Holy shit, I'm going to hell." "Mrs. Segar, don't worry about it so much. This kind of thing happens all the time. Good looking mature women fuck younger guys everyday." "You mean in the secret society?" "Actually...I have something to tell you Mrs. S. There really is no society. Mrs. Fleming just thought you could use a good fucking so she called me. I meet up with her about once a week for a quickie while her husband is away." Anne looked towards the ground with a confused look on her face. "Don't be upset, Mrs. S." "Don't worry Tommy, I'm not upset. I'm just trying to figure out why I didn't try to sleep with you sooner." High Society Sissy I guess I can say I was one of the lucky ones. Fresh out of an ivy league school with a degree we were met with two different tales. "Sorry, you're over qualified," they said. Or we would hear, "We're looking for someone with more experience." An alum that I had befriend however was able to land me a waiter position in a posh New York country club that catered to the financial elite. The hours were horrible but obviously the tips were fantastic. Not that I could complain about the hours though. I was always the shy and introverted type. You wouldn't find me at the club or bar on a Friday or Saturday night anyway, so why was I complaining? Another side effect of my personality was my inability to get any where with the female gender. Probably the only one to make it through college, the era of partying, and still remain a virgin. I would always tell myself I was straight too, but would sometimes catch myself staring at the odd male. I would quickly dismiss such actions, but the inkling was clearly there. Most of the members of the club fit the stereotypical banker arch type. Rich older white men in suits, polo shirts, or the latest atrocious golf fashion. Most of them clearly did nothing for me, however, he was clearly different. An African American gentlemen who looked like he was in his 30's, but was probably older than he looked. Clean shaven, athletic physique, I definitely caught myself looking a few times. I soon found out things would be mutual. Whenever I came out to serve or bust a table, I would catch his gaze through my peripheral vision. Usually it just was subtle glance here and there. Soon, however, they turned into longer glances; appreciative glances. Unable to look in his direction, finding myself flustered. Why did it bother me so? I was being harassed, wasn't I? That's what I would tell myself at least. Wondering how much longer I can go in day after day, I soon got my answer. My presence was requested at his table, and not as a waiter, but as I guest. And it was made clear I would be looking for another job if I didn't join him. Walking to the secluded corner table he was at, a giant pit forming in my stomach and growing as I got ever closer. As I took my seat, he was already pouring two glasses of champagne. Three hundred dollars a glass, more than I would make in a night... "Thank you for joining me," he said as I finished positioning myself comfortably in the chair while reaching for a glass. Lord knows I was going to need something for my nerves. I immediately took a sip without even responding to his thanks. I quickly looked up feeling as though I was being rude, but for some reason it brought a smile to his face. I was content to leave it at that. "You are very pretty." he said, causing me to slightly choke on the champagne I was still in the process of swallowing. Clearing my throat I found myself staring down at the table in front of me, feeling my cheeks starting to blush as I meekly replied, "thank you." "Most men wouldn't take that as a compliment," he retorted with a grin. My eyes kept darting back and forth from his face to the table in an attempt to read his face while simultaneously trying to hide my embarrassment. He was right though, most men wouldn't take that statement as a compliment. Of course, considering I couldn't grow a beard, had no chest hair, and was only 5' 5", who was I to argue? "It's okay," I replied as one hand nervously played with my napkin while my other brought the rest of my champagne to my lips. Refilling our glasses his next question was the one I was dreading "Are you attracted to men?" My face was probably beet red by now. I could feel the heat in my cheeks as I searched in my head how to answer this question. "I don't know." was all I could come up with. Immediately pouncing on my response with, "You don't know?", a sense of surprise in his voice, I immediately took this as a cue to finish my second glass. There was an awkward silence as both of us were clearly waiting for the other to say something else. He began to stand up, saying, "I think it's time to wrap things up here." As he began to walk by me while I was still seated, thinking I was in the clear, he turned slightly, holding his hand out, "Will you be joining me?" Looking down at his hand, all I had to do was politely say, "No thank you," and it would all be over. However, I found myself placing my hand in his, standing up as his hand pulled up at mine. The whole time my inner monologue is telling myself "No, you don't have to go with him. You don't want to go with him." But do I? In the end I followed him out to his car, still hand in hand, myself walking slightly behind him. Nothing was said as the limousine drove us to our destination. He simply sat across from me, once again devouring me with his gaze. It was then that I realized that he never asked my name, or gave me his. I didn't dare break the silence. The silence was maintained as we entered his mansion and made our way to the second floor bedroom. He put his hand up as if for me to stop in the middle of the room. As he continued on to a secondary room he said over his shoulder "Remove your clothing please" I removed my shirt, shoes, and pants now finding myself only in my socks and boxers as my ears scanned for any indication of where he was or what he was doing. He returned from the other room, completely naked and holding a duffel bag. Besides noticing his chiseled physique; six pack abs and nicely cut arms and legs, I also noticed his flaccid cock, and that it was already quite large. Upon seeing me, he furrowed his brow and made a circular motion with his hand as if to say, "You didn't finish yet!" Now completely naked I notice he's already sitting in a large cushioned chair with large arm rests. With a finger wiggle I'm summoned to stand directly before him. As I reach his seated position, his hands are down low holding open wide a pair of white panties. A quick wiggle of the panties tells me he expects me to step into them. While he slowly slides the panties up my now quivering legs I think to myself "Why am I doing all this? Can I not resist his commands?" With the panties now secure around my waist he quickly runs a finger from both hands around the inside of the elastic waist bang to make sure they are snug and in place. The panties are a bikini cut with a scalloped lace design and a little bit of frilly lace along the waist and leg bands. His hand lightly slapping on one of the arm rests beckons me to sit down on it. His hands are now holding a rolled up bit of white material. Starting at my toes, his hands slowly and tightly roll it up my leg, and as he reaches the top of my thigh I realize they are sheer stockings with a thick scalloped lace band at the top. A band of silicone inside the stocking keeps them securely at the top of my thigh. The process is repeated for my other leg. The last thing remaining in the bag is several pair of black high heels. They are pumps with a strap that goes over the top of the foot and a four inch heel. Once he finds a pair that fits they are buckled securely onto my feet. Directing me to stand in front of him with his hands, all I can do is nervously look down as my brain is over loaded with how fast I've arrived in this position. "This is what I truly meant when I said you look pretty," he said. I look up and give him another one of my meek thank yous. "Thank you, Sir," his lips emphasizing sir. "Thank you, Sir," I correctly responded. He runs one of his hands down my chest while asking "Do you shave or are you naturally hairless?" "Naturally hairless, Sir." His hand makes it down to my panties and I find a finger rubbing my penis through the lace material. "Have you ever fucked a woman before?" "No, I am a virgin, Sir." Leaning forward, resting an elbow on each knee, he begins to rub his fingers on the insides of my lace covered thighs. As he teases my thighs he looks up at me and states quite sharply "So you've never fucked a woman, you don't know if you're attracted to men, and yet you're excited about being dressed in lingerie before another man..." I close my eyes in shame as once again my face is on fire from the blushing and embarrassment combined with my arousal overwhelm me. I hear him as he leans back in the chair heavily. He asks, "Do you know what a sissy is?" "A wimp, Sir?" "Ah, yes, but no!" he replies with a bit of excitement. "A sissy can be many things. For instance, in the world of fetish a sissy is usually some form of effeminate male. Would you agree that you are some what effeminate?" "Yes, Sir," I replied. "So if you admit you are effeminate, then that would also make you a sissy, yes?" I'm not sure if he was right. I'm not sure if he was serious or playing some kind of game. However, a part of me was curious to see where this would go. "Yes, Sir," I conceded. "Yes, Sir, what?" he quickly retorted. "Yes, Sir, I am a sissy," I said as I looked up to see his reaction to my admission. His grin could be described as that of a cat who has a mouse right where he wants it. Still leaning back in the chair he quips, "Since sissy has been so amendable to my logic, and dressed so pretty for me, I shall allow sissy the honor of worshiping me." Upon completion of his statement he slowly opened his legs. This movement caused me to refocus on the cock between his legs that I had briefly forgotten. By now it was fully erect and probably stood at 8 inches long. I knew he wanted me to suck his cock, but if only it was to be that easy. I slowly knelt down between his legs, the fear and anticipation of what was to come made everything seem like it was in slow motion. I grabbed the base of his cock and slowly began suck it into my mouth. I was a little worried at how easily this was all transpiring, but suddenly-- "No!" he exclaims as he pulls the cock from my lips. "No no no, I said worship my cock, not suck it!" I just knelt there with a confused look on my face. Sighing, he says "Alright, Place both hands on your thighs." Placing both hands on my thighs he continues, "Starting at the tip of my cock head, begin placing soft tender kisses, working your way all over the entire head." "Good, good," he encouraged as I lightly kissed his increasingly swollen and throbbing cock head. "Look directly into my eyes as you worship my cock," he said, "So I can read the passion, lust, and submission in them." Normally I have issues making long term eye contact with people. In this case however, at his command, my eyes were now locked onto his. No matter how I turned or bobbed my head to kiss his twitching cock, my eyes remained focused on his. A large smile on his face told me I was doing a good job both with worshiping his cock and gazing into him. "Now begin to flicker your tongue over my head, and place deeper, more passionate kisses," He instructed. I found myself instinctively cooing each time I licked his cock, and the deeper kisses made a nice loud smacking noise. Each time I pulled away from his cock I could see and feel little strands of saliva bridging from my lips to his cock. As I continued to unleash this new torrent of passion onto his member I felt his foot tap the insides of my knees. My legs reflexively responded and spread further apart. His foot then began to rub the now quite apparent bulge in my panties. Pulling his cock back while tapping the bulge he inquires, "What is this?" "My penis, Sir," is all I can think to say. "Sissies do not have penises my dear, they have clits," he instructs. "So once again, what is this?" "My clit, Sir." "I know that sissy, but what is it doing?!" he said with sarcasm thick in his voice. Having to be quicker on the uptake least he get angry with me I demurely reply, "Its throbbing and leaking, Sir." "That is correct, sissy, but why is it throbbing and leaking?" he replies, still not content with the answers. What is he trying to get from me by asking all these questions and admit all these things? Or is this part of what gets him off? I must admit though, while embarrassing to admit these things to him, the shame is also met with more arousal. "It's leaking and throbbing because I'm horny, Sir." "That's correct, sissy, because you're horny. Now, open your mouth and hold out your tongue," he commands. Holding his cock, now glistening with my saliva, he begins to lightly tap it up and down on my tongue. He continues "And sissy is horny because it likes worshiping cock, likes dressing up, and likes being a sissy, correct?" I manage to get a yes sir out in between the taps of his cock on my tongue. With that, he stands up walks over to the bed. He sits down on edge and pats his hand down next to me to signal he wants me to join him. I was still kneeling and hesitated as I looked at him with worried eyes and my hands entangled in a nervous mess. Does he want to have sex? Does he want to fuck me so soon? Sucking cock is one thing but I've never had anything in my ass before. "If sissy wants to leave," he begins to say, "The door is over there," his hand now pointing at the door. "However, if sissy wants to stay, sissy needs to obey my commands without hesitation." I stand up and zigzag my way over to the bed. Between the pit in my stomach weighing me down and my uneasy feet in the unfamiliar heels I about fell over. He now has a pillow near him and instructs me to lay on it. "Lay on the pillow so that it is directly under your crouch," he orders. "I have been patient with sissy up until this point, but now there has been too much hesitation," he bellows in a stern tone. "Therefore, sissy must be punished. Sissy will present its ass and will not pull away from any blows, understand?" "Yes, Sir," was all I could reply. He was going to spank me for real, and all I could do was lay there and wait for him to do it. *Whack!* came the first blow on one cheek. His hand large enough to cover the whole thing. It stung, hurt a little, but I could tell he pulled the first one. *Whack!* on the other cheek. This one harder than the first. This continued for five blows on each cheek, each one getting progressively harder. I cried out on the last two and tears began to well in my eyes. As I now lay there still taking in what happened and recovering, he began to massage my sore but now sensitive cheeks through the lace panties. "Sissy did good in receiving its punishment," he beamed. "Thank you, Sir," I was quick to reply. He pulls the pillow out from under me, and pulls at the tops of my thighs as if he wants me up on my knees. I start to get up on my knees but he now places a hand on the top of my back and pushes back down, so that I'm sticking my ass up in the air while keeping my face and chest against the bed. He spreads my knees apart as far as they can go in this position so that my ass is sticking straight out and is completely exposed. I feel him begin to peel my panties back and then down so they are now half way down my thighs. I feel cool air on my asshole as this extreme kneeling position while bent forward naturally pulls my cheeks apart. I feel a finger begin to trace the spot at the base of my scrotum all the way to my asshole, while his other hand begins to methodically grope and pinch in the insides of my thighs. His expert hands continue this assault of stimulation on my sensitive areas until I can feel another generous flow of pre cum flow from my clit. His finger massaging my ass retreats briefly but quickly returns, wet with what I can only assume is his saliva. The finger begins to test the tightness of my asshole. Once satisfied that it has been aptly stimulated and lubed, he whispers to me "Just relax your muscles," and I feel his finger slowly and gently push inside me. His other hand has now assumed a position under my clit while his finger continues to work itself in and out of my ass. As he continues he says "You may start to feel a tingling sensation, almost like you need to pee, just let it go." This continues for maybe half an hour as I continually feel little spurts and dribbles. Its almost as if I have an itch on the inside of me, and he is scratching it in just the right place. He beckons for me to arise and when I do I'm greeted with his hand containing a puddle of my juices. "Dessert?" he asks as he holds it up to my chin. I dare not disappoint him again. Although, at this point I'm so sexually charged my inhibitions are all but gone. As I begin to lick and suck at my juices all I can think of is how dirty and naughty this is, yet I can't resist it. I haven't been able to resist any of it. As I finish he is now standing at the edge of the bed and stroking his cock with his other hand. "There's still one more, might as well keep your mouth open," as his other hand now joins in on stroking his engorged member. I position my open mouth at the tip of his cock and once again lock eyes with his as he gets closer and closer to climax. Judging from the contortions of his face and I can he is close just like that the spurts hit the roof of my mouth with force I wasn't prepared for. He quickly fills me before I can start to swallow, and I can help but notice how much thicker and hotter his juice is than mine. Once finished swallowing down the last of his seed, I cleaned the remnants from his cock, gave his cock head one more loving kiss, and said, "Thank you, Sir."