6 comments/ 27732 views/ 14 favorites Man Disciplines Sissy Ch. 01 By: LanaBehave I enjoy nice undies, sexy undies, soft and pretty lingerie, and delicate and dainty clothes whenever possible. I put on these things, and feel feminine and aroused, eroticized....the pretty dress, the wig, the nylons, panties and bra, heels... I also feel the misbehavior aspect. A boy/male like me, even if it looks sexy or feminine on me...dressing girly is at best questionable behavior and I wonder about being caught and disciplined for it. On business, I was traveling alone, visiting a large Midwestern city, and I was very excited. I had invited an admirer over to my hotel room. I think he was a little angry at me when he arrived. He had asked me to meet him first in the lobby, fully dressed, but I wouldn't do it. I am very shy about being my feminine self, even in private, so of course I couldn't do the lobby for him. When he got up to the room, I heard his knock. Nervous, I had been fussing with my clothes and my face at the last minute, so I had to call to him "be there in a minute" while I slid my blue dress back on, over my white satin bra and panties, black sheer thigh-highs. I had selected dark pink lipstick, clip-on earrings, some face powder and eye shadow. I slid the white satin high-heel sandals on. Finally, I felt ready, and I stood by the sofa, and said "come in." He was a few inches taller than me, short blond hair combed neatly. A little on the stocky side, he looked strong, and like I already said, he seemed a little impatient, a little irritated. He was dressed like a business golfer, yellow polo shirt, pressed khakis, brown belt and shined brown shoes. He walked around the room, and looked at me from various angles. He grunted and hummed and syllabled without saying words. But he was nodding too. I think he liked my dress, my legs, my long blonde wavy wig, the way my high heel sandals flattered my calves, and lifted and enhanced my curves, made me more feminine. For a man, I'm small, and on the slim side, which helps. I watched him as he moved, as he looked me up and down. The first thing he actually said, he scolded me. I had displeased him, he told me in a low, serious voice that held an edge of actual disappointment and a touch of angriness, and I trembled hearing it. This was while he was still standing, walking between the big window and the entry way, watching me, my body language, looking at my body. He made me feel very ashamed. I looked down, clasping my hands in front of me. He scolded me for not meeting him downstairs, and for making him wait in the hall. Finally, he sat. There was a little round cocktail table, sort of a high table not a coffee table, and he sat at one of the stools. Then he called me over. He was sitting at the little table. I was feeling very ashamed and contrite. I hesitated. I didn't want to go to him, I was afraid. He became very firm, his voice dropped lower and quietly angrier. He said "You don't want me to have to get up." "Get over here," he said. Slowly, I moved toward him, little steps in my high heels, my dress hem swishing a little around my thighs, looking down. I didn't want to raise my eyes, to see his angry face. He just looked at me for awhile. I was very nervous. I stood there, and I would look at him, but I couldn't look in his eyes. I looked away. He said, "You must learn to obey, and behave." I nodded, but I was starting to feel emotional. He backed his chair away from the table a little, and leaned forward, and took a firm grip on my wrist. He tugged, and I shuddered feeling his strength. He pulled my arm, and moved me close to him. "Look at me," he said, and I looked at him. "You're to be punished," he said. I looked away, and had to try to get control of my breathing. He had a natural authority. It wasn't at all playful I sniffled a little, I was shaking. I couldn't look at him. But he wanted me to. He had something more to say. He said "look at me" still low, but more forceful. When I didn't look up, he let go of my arm, and then suddenly I felt his hand. He slapped me. I looked up at him, and he said. "That's better. I'm going to spank you, honey," he said. I was so ashamed, I wanted to cry. I felt very sorry, and very small. I was confused and still trembling, and my face was hot where he'd slapped me. Then he took charge. He said "Let's have a look," I felt his strong hands on me, grasping both my hips, and he firmly turned me around so that I was facing the table. He was controlling me so I had my hands up sort of, my elbows raised out of his way as he moved me by taking hold of my hips. He was still sitting down. He moved up to the edge of his seat, and I could feel his hands slide down from my hips, to my legs, and then lift my dress by the hem. I felt the coolness of fresh air on the backs of my thighs. "Look at these panties" he said. I felt his fingers, lightly touching my bottom, tracing around the edges of my panties. "You've been very bad," he said. "And look, you're such a little sissy, wearing these." I moaned in reaction, and I felt my knees trembling, as he held my hem up and looked at my bottom, toying with my lingerie. "We'll have to pull them down," he said softly, "You naughty little girl, getting a spanking from her Daddy." I put my face in my hands, standing there, but he wanted my reaction. My breathing wasn't working right; I couldn't speak for some reason. I was emotional. "Should I pull your panties down now, honey?" he said. I just sort of shivered, moaning into my hands. "Answer me," he said, but I couldn't. "Hmm," he said, then I felt his hand. On my bottom this time. The first slap was hard and stung in a surprisingly sharp way, and I jumped and my voice made an involuntary sound, a moan. He spanked me through my panties, holding my dress up with his other hand. "Speak up," he said. "Take your hands away from your face, and answer me honey. I moaned, "No," and took my hands down. "Put them on the table," he said. He stood up. I put my hands on the table. "Look at me," he said. But I didn't, and earned another slap. I felt like I was really about to cry, but I looked at him. Yes, I finally looked at him, but I could feel the emotions of shame and sorrow and couldn't hold my face from showing it. I was so upset. "Good girl," he said. "Keep your hands on the table". Then he lifted the back of my dress again, and with his right hand, stuck his fingers into the waistband of my panties and started to pull them down, working his hand back and forth. Now I knew, now it wasn't just going to happen. It was happening. He scolded me. He told me I was misbehaving, and a prissy sissy. And I started to moan, my face was very red, and I felt his hand sting my bottom. My bared bottom. Again and again and again and again and again and again. I was gasping, sort of hiccupping, trying to speak. I said, "but, but, you asked me if you should pull them down, then before I could answer..." He said "Oh, yeah, you speak up now?" and his hand started spanking harder. Oh it hurt. "Naughty, naughty sissy girl," he said, spanking with the words' rhythm. And then I felt the tears coming. I think he saw it happening too. There was a low armchair not too far away. He moved toward it, pulling me with him. Actually after he sat down he grabbed me by my panties which were bunched above my knees, and pulled me over close. The sheer white nylon and elastic panty waistband stretched as he pulled, and I stumbled a little because I couldn't move my legs well with the panties bunched around my knees. He sat down in the chair, and pulled me close, pinning me between his knees, as he pushed my dress up again and spanked my bottom over and over with his big flat hand, and I really started to cry. I was sobbing into my hands, and I noticed that he had stopped. He wasn't spanking me. I was standing between his legs, and he let his legs relax so that I wasn't clamped in anymore. He still held my dress up with one hand, and his other hand was feeling my bottom, instead of spanking it. "You have a nice fanny, honey," he said. Then he grasped my hips and moved me a foot or so away and turned me toward him. "Look at me," he said. I sniffled and wiped my eyes a little, trying not to think of how messy my eye makeup must be. I looked at him. He nodded. Sitting in the chair, he still had his legs open a little from letting me out. Holding my eye, he reached down and put a hand on his thigh, then reached in a masculine way between his legs, and adjusted his crotch. There was something vaguely aggressive, and at the same time nonchalant, about this gesture. It was his cock, his balls that he'd just touched, moved, while I was watching. While he watched me watch him touching. He wanted me to see. And I glanced down afterward, and saw there was still movement in his pants, under his zipper. The long shape there moved gently, as if it was uncurling under the cloth of his pants. He saw me looking, and reached down and adjusted it again. The length of it was sideways, a fat, curled bulge. "What are you looking at?" he asked. "You told me to look at you," I said. There had been a little menace, some edge of cruelty in his voice, and I was a little scared now. Before I could stop it, another sob escaped my throat, and a little moaning cry trailed off from the sob. "Don't get cute," he said, and laughed a little. His laugh was soft of stiff and hollow. "You're looking at my cock, you little sissy. You need cock, don't you?" He reached down and now openly fondled the front of his pants, grabbing himself in a masculine, sexual way. I gulped. I found myself staring. "No, I, um, oh I..." I trailed off. After groping himself through his pants, he kept watching me, but both his hands went to the belt buckle, finding it without looking. His fingers unlaced and unbuckled his belt, then unbuttoned the khakis' waistband. "That's right, sissy," he teased, "Keep watching..." And he unzipped his pants, and pushed the flaps open, and I could see that bulging in his white cotton briefs. Now he pawed his package again with his big right hand, watching me. I could see his cock under the thin cotton, its fat length crossing the front his underpants, not erect but not limp either. "Yes, honey," he said squeezing himself through the cotton, "Daddy needs some attention from his sissy girl." He sat up straight again, and reached for me. Once again, his fingers latched onto my panties bunched above my knees, and he pulled. I stepped forward, close to him. "Come sit on Daddy's lap," he said. He turned me around, facing away, and pulled me back to his lap. The backs of my knees hit his knees, and I eased myself down. I reached back. I was going to smooth my dress under me as I sat, but I guess I was a little rushed, a little flustered, instead I lifted it out of the way, so that I sat on Daddy's lap with nothing under my bare thighs and bottom. My panties were still bunched around my knees. He scootched me back on his lap, and nuzzled my neck. I could feel his penis against my bottom, warm and starting to uncurl inside his underpants. "Where did you learn to lift your skirt when you sit on a man's lap?" he said, and laughed. "And your bottom's warm from your spanking," he said. He was moving his hips, working his cock against my bottom, I could feel it getting harder, straighter. It worked its way between the cheeks of my bottom, and he grunted softly and made little thrusts with his hips. His big hands held my waist, and his strength and confidence made me feel small and in his power. Nervously, I moved on his lap, responding to his motions and, of course his increasingly aroused, erect penis under my bottom. Somehow it seemed more exciting that he still had his briefs on, that there was yet another layer of sensation still to come. "You feel very natural on a man's lap," he said. "On Daddy's lap." I felt myself blush. "Aw, you're so cute!" he said, and the edge in his voice was a little weird, sarcastic, and blush turned to shiver. His hand caressed the side of my face, and I felt his breath on my ear. He whispered, "Such a pretty little sissy you are, baby. Daddy had to spank right away because baby kept daddy waiting and was stubborn, but daddy is pleased you're such a girly boy in your pretty dress, your smooth legs and cute little sissy panties and..." He slid a hand up my dress, way up, and I felt fingers touching my bra. Fingers slid inside and pinched a nipple. He continued to get harder under me, wiggling on his lap, and his hand came out from under my dress and wandered up the front of my body. "...and your pretty sissy slut mouth," he said. Man Disciplines Sissy Ch. 02 We're alone, in the hotel suite, and I'm sitting on his lap in an armchair, still in my dress and everything but with my panties down around my knees. My bottom is warm and sore from the spanking. Under me, the only thing between us is the cotton of his underpants, his hardening shaft presses and moves against my bottom through the cloth, and he just commented on how pretty my mouth is. I love lipstick. But what he's implying makes me both nervous and excited, and when that happens I am a flustered sissy. I felt his other hand-the right-resting on my right knee, then drifting a few inches higher, where it stopped at the hem of my dress, the thumb and fingers lightly gripping my thigh.. I needed a deep breath as his left hand moved up the front of my body, not really lingering anywhere but pausing and prodding a little as he softly spoke, but as he whispered the words "your pretty little sissy slut mouth," arriving at the side of my neck, where his fingers then caressed my cheek, toyed with my ear, touched my hair. And his mouth was just inches from my ear so he was only barely whispering as he said those last few words, about my mouth, softly touching my cheek. Then I felt his fingers moving across my cheek toward my red lips. I moaned and squirmed a little on his lap. Why was this so intense? I'd been spanked like a naughty little girl, face-slapped, groped and pinched, I was sitting on this stern and demanding man's lap with my panties at my knees, feeling his warm cock swell and throb against my sore, pink bottom, and now a raspy whisper and gentle fingers on the side of my cheek were sending me over the edge. "Yes," he whispered in my ear, his right hand tightening its grip above my right knee "Your pretty sissy-girl mouth." And he touched my lower lip with the tip of his index finger, and it was a little cooler than my lips, and he ran the fingertip along my painted lip and around the left corner, then along my upper lip, and I began to shudder as I continued to moan and squirm. "Oh yes," he whispered, continuing to toy with my lips, my mouth. "You really are a little pussy, such a girl, a naughty girly girl, aren't you? Your daddy spanks you and touches your pretty lips and suddenly you're trembling, shaking like a true sissy." I was shaking, like a tree leaf in the wind before a thunderstorm, sort of vibrating on his lap, as I felt his finger slip down, the tip between my lips, probing, then penetrating. He slid his finger into my mouth, just an inch or so, and held it there. I squirmed on his lap again, and turned my face to look into his eyes, and squirming I felt his cock seem to harden and grow under me, and a look of animal lust crossed his features, flaring nostrils and a twitch in his eyes, and I was scared again, and all I could think of was his penis, and I felt myself blush red and I started to tremble again. "Oh, I see," Daddy said. "Maybe Daddy's little girl isn't quite ready?" I felt my blush deepen. This was confusing, I wasn't sure whether he was playing with me, or being considerate. Daddy, I could already see, was unpredictable, and inscrutable about it. "We'll get back to your mouth, and the subject of Daddy's cock, in a few minutes, shall we?" He chuckled a little, and slid his finger out of my mouth, and my lips closed with a very subtle little pop sound. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, tried to be less anxious, to breathe more smoothly. "Oh, Daddy, I..." I said. Yes, I was catching on, and easily slipped into the terminology of the relationship. He was Daddy now, with all the power and authority and love and fear that word implied. But before I could continue my thought, he took over the conversation. "Don't argue with me, honey," he interrupted. "Now, get off Daddy's lap." I felt his big hands grip my waist and practically lift me off his lap and set me on my feet. "I think Lana needs a little lecturing." I was finding my balance on my heels when I felt him tugging at my panties again. It seemed to be one of his handles for controlling me. But this time, I felt the yank stretching the panties between my knees, and I stumbled back, practically into his lap again, but he steadied me, and then he was grasping both sides of the elastic waistband and I felt him briskly pulling my panties back up. Again, I found myself holding my elbows up and out a little as he made these adjustments to his liking. I felt very submissive, under his control, and afraid of getting in his way and displeasing him again. He snugged my pretty white satin panties up. They were tight, bikini style with the little scalloped frill of cream-colored lace around the thighs, slightly undersized for me, so I felt the encasing tightness around my thighs and my warm bottom. Again, the cool air flicked my bare thighs as he lifted the back of my dress. I felt his big hand on my bottom, pawing me in my panties, first softly, then firmly clutching a handful of flesh from underneath, grunting again, a sexual sound that made me shiver. Cupping and gripping my ass, one cheek then the other, making my cheeks spread and close again. Growing more aggressive the more he squeezed and clutched at it. He let go of my dress and his hand continued groping me under there, and he reached down with his other hand and pawed and adjusted his own sex again, me starting to moan and squirm as my mind returned to thinking about his cock. "Yes, listen to you. You're a little cock slut, aren't you, sissy? I know. I know your type, don't I?" He stroked himself hard in his underpants while fondling my bottom through my panties. Then, finally, he let me go, smoothed my dress back down, and gave me a little push. "Go stand over there, in front of the sofa, honey," he said. "I'd make you stand in the corner like a naughty little girl but all the corners here have lamps or furniture." I walked across the room, feeling girly, feeling my dress swishing around my thighs. He was still fondling himself in his briefs, and watching me move, he grunted. I felt myself blushing again but couldn't help letting my hips sway a little more for the last couple steps, to accentuate the swish of the dress, feeding off the lust in his voice. Nonverbal, grunted lust. If felt so good, even though I was swirling with a mix of emotions-anxiety, a little fear too-to have these feminine feelings swarming in me, and to be and feel so feminine for a man, and hear and feel his masculine reaction to my female artifice. The way my toes felt, pointed down into the sandals' open toes, and cased in smooth nylon, my heels raised 3.5 inches, walking like this, the feminine way the elevated heels made me walk, the toes sticking out the front of the silvery satin sandals. A girl walk, a woman's walk Looking down and taking it all in, in motion and feeling so girly, so femmy, and feeling his eyes on me. From behind. My hips are just a little big so even though I'm slim, when I wear a dress I have that feminine rear view. It was becoming clear that Daddy wasn't in a hurry. He made a little humming noise, lusty little grunts in time with my walk, the sway of my hips. "Oh honey, what was that?" he said, a little growl in his voice. "That's the way a slut walks. You're such a little sissy, a slutgirl sissy, and those slutgirl moves of yours, you know..." and he paused, with that humgrunt of lust that made me shiver and he saw the shiver and I could tell my fright fed his lust even more, and I looked over my shoulder to see him stroking himself, and I could see, even with just the corner of my eye, how big and hard he was now, legs out, leaning back in his chair, bulging up in his white underpants, stroking his penis and making it get harder, longer, full and throbbing. His voice had a hoarseness, "You're making Daddy hard," he said. I moaned, I moaned, quietly, but out loud. A little rough sigh, high and shuddering. "And you know what that means?" he said. Nervous, and excited by his talk, I shifted my weight back and forth from one foot to the other in my high heels, my hips moving just a little, my dress swishing just enough to feel the hem brushing my thighs. I felt my face go red, but I didn't realize he wanted me to answer. It seemed to me like a rhetorical kind of question. It was very quiet-too quiet-for several moments. I heard him get up. I heard him coming. "When I ask you a question, sissy," he said, and then he was behind me, lifting my dress. I felt it rising. Cooler air on my warm thighs. "I expect you to listen, and I expect an answer." "Oh Daddy I, I uh..." I said. And I felt his hand on my bottom, his fingers grasping the elastic of my panties, yanking them down, and then the spanks, hard ones, loud and harsh with his anger, stinging my already sore warm cheeks, several on the left, then on the right, then back. I felt my face turn red in shame again, and involuntarily I felt my weight move to my toes, and my elbows lifted again into that helpless, submissively controlled gesture. He was speaking too, "I'm still waiting," he said. Flinching with each stinging spank, I started to sob, but managed to blurt out, "When Daddy..." Sob... "um, when, ow..., oww, when I make Daddy hard Daddy's penis needs attention..." Sob... "From his little girl, ow, ow, ow oh Daddy... "To help Daddy..." He stopped and slipped his hand down between my thighs and grabbed my panties the way he likes to, his stretchy nylon handle to manipulate and position me. He pulled me back toward him then with his other hand on the back of my head bent me forward. I felt his hand slid up between my thighs, fingers suddenly right up near my trimmed sack, goosing, feeling around, aggressive but so quick and so lust driven that I almost swooned. "Yes honey, now say it..." I was bent forward, my blond waves hanging in my face, crying, feeling fingers creeping forcefully between my cheeks. I moaned first. "...for Daddy's pleasure," I said. "Yes," he grunted, then he spanked me again and again and again and again and I sobbed and sobbed and finally cried out. "Any way Daddy wants!" Then Daddy was snugging my panties up again and smoothing my dress. "We have to keep you pretty and femmy, honey," he said, "While we proceed with your lecture." Reaching around, up the front of my dress, he cupped the front of my panties again and I moaned. "Yes the little sissy is horny too. When did you say was the last time I let you cum Lana? We were on the phone the last time you came for Daddy, the last time your little sissy cock was allowed to spurt its pathetic half teaspoon of girly jizz." "It was-" I sobbed, swallowed, then continued,"...it was Saturday the 2nd, Daddy," and I moaned again, and Daddy gave one of his snarly, cruel chuckles, his dominant lust piqued by remembering how he'd been controlling my sex life for months. "Yes," he said. "Over two weeks ago, poor baby must be very frustrated..." He got a mean look on his face. "You're not lying to Daddy are you? Did you masturbate without telling Daddy?" I was finally starting to get my emotions under control but this made me start to sob again. "No Daddy oh Daddy it was hard but I didn't." I guess I was upset again because I didn't think he'd believe me. "I only touched it in my panties a little, when I thought about you, about our meeting today, but I didn't cum since that Saturday." He touched my face, very gently. His voice was soft. "It's okay honey. You've been a good girl, waiting for Daddy. I wanted you like this, at your edge, needy, emotional, and sexually unrelieved." This sudden tenderness had an unexpected effect. My sobbing became so emotional, so uncontrolled, that I couldn't stay on my feet. I slid to my knees on the rug, in front of the sofa, and buried my face in my arms on the seat cushion, weeping. I'd been anticipating this so much, my date with Daddy, and holding in my release, my mixed-up femmy testosterone libido building, and emotions roiling, for so long, and now Daddy was here and I was just overwhelmed. Finally when I picked up my head and looked up, there was Daddy still standing next to me. I was on my knees now, so with him standing, well, my head, my face was just a foot or two from...from his middle. His pants were bunched around his knees, the unbuckled ends of the his brown belt moving a little in the air, accentuating his small gestures and movements. I wiped my eyes and saw that his cock, still in his underpants, was fully erect, long, fat, and making the white cotton throb. With it right there, I could even see vague outlines or a little blueness where some of the veins must be. The crown, the helmet was distinctly visible, its flared sides and those little shoulders where it joined the shaft. The whole shape of it was pushed clearly through the thin cotton, so tight now with his cock full and hard. I looked up, raising my eyes, not really wanting to look at Daddy's face, but I couldn't help myself. His face. His eyes looked into mine, and I saw. I knew. I knew why he was so hard. Now I knew. Because I was crying. He had made me cry, and that made him hard. He reached out, and put his hand on my hair, and turned my head. "Turn toward me now. It's time." On my knees still, I turned in place, toward him. Feeling meek, but anxious and excited and emotional, I raised my eyes to look at him, at his white underpants stretched with the upright shape of his cock, and, trembling, I glanced up at his face. "Close your eyes, honey," he said, his voice hoarse. It wasn't gentle, though. Now, he was commanding, controlling. Close my eyes? I blinked, and felt the tears clear, my head cleared a little too. Again I briefly glanced up at him, saw his face, grim with lust, and I did. I closed my eyes. He was moving, closer. He's standing, pants unbuckled and pushed to his knees, and I'm on my knees, we're facing each other right next to the sofa, and I feel, hear him moving. I hear the tinkle of his belt buckle. I feel his warmth, I smell him getting close, very close. "Stay very still," he says. He's moving very quietly, but my eyes are closed. He must be very, very close. I can smell him, I smell, well, it's like a little bit of sweat, a little musky. Like soft white cotton that was clean this morning but it's been several hours. I know what I'm smelling, it's his musk, his masculinity. His fat, hard penis is almost in my face, I smell his smell, the drips of dried urine in his underpants from when he peed last, the sweat underneath, and something else, a sexual or lust smell maybe something pheromonal. I hear his belt tinkle again, and it confirms how close he is. Very soft sounds now, very close, cloth moving on cloth or on skin, his shoes slightly creaking on the floor. He's a little closer, and the smell of him is stronger, his musk, and I have to breathe slower, I have to try, but I know he wants me, and I want to please him, but, oh yes, but, but Daddy takes his time. I feel his heat even now. Something brushes my cheek, very lightly. It is cloth, a curve of flesh in cloth, a small point of touch, against my right cheek. My ear. It is Daddy's cock, straight up in his briefs, touching my ear again, then my cheek. I feel a little throb of it, maybe the blood rushing into a blue surface vein, gorging the shaft, keeping it hard and warm and ready. I blink, I open my eyes for an instant, and see him, the side of his leg and his underpants, because he's next to me. He didn't notice, I think. Hope. I take a deep breath, and then, I feel a longer touch. I feel his cock in his cotton, on the side of my neck, then between my ear and the point of my jaw, and I feel him take a mini step, and it's brushing against my cheek, then my lips, and it stops right against the side of my nose, and I hear him sigh or grunt or hum and now I know he can't help himself and his hips do a soft thrust and I feel the length of it, of his penis, slide over my lips alongside my nose and his glans helmet strokes itself against my right eyebrow. I feel his hand on top of my head, but he doesn't move me. He is just steadying himself, or me. And for the next two, maybe three minutes, he doesn't say a word. And I could not tell who was moving. It was like I wasn't moving my head, and he didn't seem to be moving his hips, he just stood with his hand on my head, but his cloth stretching penis continued exploring my face. I felt the knob move across my lips, and I moaned, because the little flare, the brim of that helmet crown caught there and softly, briefly pushed my feminized lips open, like his finger had a few minutes before. I guess I was moving my face ever so slightly, lost in a trance, feeling the throbbing hardness move to the left cheek, alive, swelling and contracting slightly, then back across my lips again to the other cheek, and then, back again. Then, again, but this time, slowing. Pausing, centering now. Shaft is on my face, across my lips, the crown against the side of my nose, and I hear the belt buckle tinkle as Daddy adjusts a little, a slight bend of his knees, and the head of his penis slides slowly down and stops, pressed against my closed mouth, and then very slightly pushes and rises, again parting my lips. He whispers, "Does little sissy want Daddy's cock?" Now the cotton-stretching tip of it pushes between my lower and upper lip. I smell his cock, and I feel a little moisture in the cotton, a cool wet spot on my lips. Involuntarily, my tongue darts and touches it. I open my eyes, and start to look up. Daddy smacks my cheek, a quick slap. "Did I tell you to open your eyes?" "No Daddy," my voice is emotional, half a sob, sort of choking, but I can at least say that much. I close my eyes, and he slaps me again. He's still whispering. "Did I ask you a question, honey?" "Yes, Daddy." "Well?" I breathe twice, in, out, in, out, slowly but barely keeping control. "Yes," I say, and I inhale again, "Yes Daddy, I want Daddy's cock." It's still pressed against my lips, so I have to talk to the tip of Daddy's penis. "I want it in my mouth, Daddy." "Take it, Honey," Daddy says. "Take Daddy's cock in your sissy mouth, now." "Yes, Daddy." And I reach up with my hands, to pull Daddy's underpants down, but he pushes my hands back down. "No, Honey," he says. "No hands." "But..." "Do you want another spanking?" He's on the edge of being angry again. "No Daddy," I whisper, and whimper. "Then don't argue." I swallow, and nestle my face against Daddy, feeling his hard cock against my cheek, my nose, my lips. I open my mouth, my lips, and surround the crown of Daddy's penis, tasting cotton underpants, feeling the flesh yield beneath, the softness of it on the surface, the hardness inside, the softness of my lips yielding to the underlying rigidity. Daddy moans and his hips thrust. "Yes, Honey," he says. I lean forward, eyes open now and Daddy not objecting, and rise up a little on my knees, getting a better angle. I glance up at Daddy and see him looking down at me, a flat grin on his flushed face, an intense and desiring expression on his face. I want to keep looking at him but need to look at what I'm doing. I stick out my tongue and slide it down under the waistband of his underpants, and then the tip of my tongue feels skin, and I am electrified, I moan a little around my tongue, its tip tasting the tip of Daddy's cock, round and warm, finding the little cockslit, wet and sticky and salty. He moans. "Go on," he grunts, coughs and swallows, "Go on honey, suck Daddy." I retract my tongue, licking my lips as I look up at Daddy's face again, then I drop my chin down where my tongue just was, push it in against Daddy's belly, and work my chin under the underpants' elastic. Daddy's so hard now that the top of his cock is pushing the elastic waistband out a little, so it's not a hard maneuver. My chin is working the elastic down, freeing his cock up a little, and then I kiss the tip of his penis, my lips pursed, and I take a quick breath and slide my lips, keeping them tight, right over the knob, the crown, and the tip of Daddy's cock is in my mouth for the first time. Man Disciplines Sissy Ch. 02 Daddy moans. My face is pushed into his underpants, I'm still hands-free, and his cock is so warm and hard and sticky and salty in my mouth. I slide my tight lips a few inches down the shaft, then I look up at Daddy. "Oh M-G, Honey," he says. Without moving his hips much, keeping his cock there half pushed into my mouth, he bends his knees a little and leans down, and he grabs the fabric of my dress and I feel him lifting the hem. "Let's have a look at Daddy's little sissy," he says. I slid my mouth back up so my lips surrounded the head again, and watched Daddy's face as he lifted my dress up. "Go ahead, honey, pull your little sissy panties down, show Daddy," he said, and I found my panties with my thumbs and slowly pushed them down to my knees. "Look at the little sissy slut, what a naughty girl," he said. My little girly cock was as big as it gets, about 4 skinny inches, standing out straight. I moaned and took my mouth off Daddy's cock again, took a quick breath, licked the underside, looked up at Daddy's face, and slid my mouth down over it again. Daddy made a noise in the back of his throat. With my lips tight, I slide down to the bottom of Daddy's shaft, then slowly lifted my head, sliding back up. When my lips were just under the knob, Daddy's hips locked, and he seemed to shudder, and in my mouth a warm gush spurted. Yes when Daddy came in my mouth, it was a big gush of semen at first, very warm and it was much thicker and stronger than my own, but after that first slow gush, several seconds later it spurted. He moaned, a long, uncontrolled grunt that came from low in his throat, and his lust added a new swarm of butterflies to my middle region. I swallowed and gasped and one strong spurt didn't go in my mouth, and I felt it, warm and with that musky smell, on my upper lip and left cheek. Daddy pushed his underpants down and slid his cock back into my mouth, and kept cumming, gently holding my head. "Baby yes, that's it." His hips locked and strained and I felt four, five more spurts in my mouth. "Taste Daddy's cum honey. That's a good-grunt-good girl. Daddy's little slut sissy." Daddy took his time getting around to it, but by the time I finally closed my lips around his hard throbbing penis, it was only in my mouth for a minute or maybe two, and I only slid my lips down and up his shaft two or three times, before he came in my mouth. But it did seem to be a very good, long and intense cumming. He caressed my hair and my face, and pulled his cock out of my mouth. He palmed my chin, turned my face up, and I looked up into his face. "Show Daddy," he said. I opened my mouth, to show him that I hadn't swallowed those last spurts. "Yes honey you may swallow now. And get up." I swallowed while he pulled his underpants back up and he started to reach down to pull up his khakis, but changed his mind. I stood and with some ridiculous sense of modesty turned away. Daddy was behind me now, and he reached down and grabbed my panties and pulled them up for me, snugging them up and patting my bottom. He grabbed my hips and grunted again. "Next time," he whispered in my ear, and I felt him push the front of his body, back in his underpants now, up against my bottom in my panties. He slowly thrusted, and hummed a low hum, like a mmm mmm good. "Next time maybe Daddy will bend you over after your spanking, Honey." I turned around to reply to him, but he had already turned his back, and was moving away from me. I watched as he tucked his shirt in, buckled his belt, zipped up, and then walked slowly toward the suite's door. Then, without turning around, he was gone, and the door shut itself, and I was alone again.