A Familiar's Fate Ch. 05

I nearly slept in Monday morning. There was no time to think. I quickly showered, dressed, and was out the door.

It felt strange to be back at my desk. It seemed like ages since I had been here, when it was just a weekend. I booted up my laptop, and began researching some of the items we had discussed on Saturday.

Oh, Saturday. Kneeling at her feet, massaging her...

Sorry. Focus. It was hard not to think about Karen. I was anxious to see her. Yet, in truth, she was regularly pulled into morning meetings, or seeing a client. Therefore, it wasn't unusual to not see her until the afternoon.

It was another woman who showed up at my desk this morning. Joanne had a wide grin. "You look good. Happy. Did you have an exciting weekend?" It was clear what type of excitement she meant.

This could be dangerous. Joanne was a good friend, but she was also a notorious gossip.

"So tell me, who was he?" she prodded.

I shook my head dismissively. Joanne, Joanne... not this time. I was with a woman all weekend. Nothing gay about it.

She was unfazed by my silence, believing I was just being shy. "I love your earrings by the way."

"What?" I reached up to my ear. Oh crap, I had forgotten to take out the amethyst studded earrings. I blushed with embarrassment.

"It's not what you think." I was struggling to explain myself. How does a guy explain wearing earrings with a bright coloured gem?

"I wasn't with a guy. I've told you how many times, I'm not gay."

She gave me a bemused look. Particularly glancing at the earrings, as if to say, 'If you're not gay, how do you explain that?'

Good question. Even if she didn't put it into words.

"I was with Karen all weekend. We were working at her place."

"Uh huh," she responded with a dismissive grin. "Nobody looks happy from working over the weekend. And it certainly doesn't explain the earrings... Come on, you can tell me." She coaxed me with good hearted teasing. "I'm happy for you. I bet he was a hunk. You're quite pretty when you relax and be yourself."

"What do you mean by that?" I wasn't sure what bothered me more. Being called pretty, or Joanne once again insisting I was gay.

"I just mean, well..." she was struggling to find the words. "Take the earrings for example. They are pretty. You should wear them all the time."

"And I'm not pretty without them?" I was trying to catch her in a trap.

"Well, I just mean. Look at you today. You're glowing. You dressed up with some pretty earrings, you've done something with your hair, and you met a mysterious someone over the weekend. It's safe to say you're not this happy wearing a stuffy suit and tie."

If she only knew the half of it. Yesterday, I was wearing a dress, heels, and makeup. Yet, even so, Joanne sensed there was something more than earrings in this story.

"Well I wasn't with a guy. I was with Karen all weekend."

"If you say so." She clearly didn't believe me.

"I was."

"Uh huh, and who else?"

"Why do you think there was someone else? You said I was attractive. Can't Karen find me attractive?"

Joanne thought for a moment. Clearly puzzled. Why would I even want to be with a woman? Was I telling her the truth all this time about not being gay?

"Well, I said you were pretty. And, well, I don't want to hurt your feelings."

"But..." I prompted her, knowing there was always a but. I needed to know.

"Well I've seen the guys Karen goes out with."

This was news to me. I had only seen Karen rejecting a long list of guys at the office.

"Well, they're all big, muscular types. Blue collar construction types, firefighters. All strong and ruggedly handsome. And no offence, but that's not you."

I was feeling dejected. Yet Joanne went on. "You're sweet, and gentle, and pretty. You're like one of the girls."

"Gee, thanks." I responded bitterly.

"Oh don't be like that. I just mean, if you were happy this weekend, it was because you were pretty. Trying to be macho, you will only disappoint yourself, and make yourself more miserable."

This did sound true.

"And I must confess, I don't see you being with Karen. But if it makes you happy to be with her, then so be it. Just don't let her break your heart."

I pondered this for a moment. Had anything really changed over the weekend? Or was I still just watching Karen from the side as other more masculine men got to sleep with her.

"Anyways, I got to get going. Mrs. Simmons will kill me if I don't finish that report today."

"OK, see you Joanne."

"And I really do like the earrings by the way." Joanne gave a friendly wave, and was gone.

This really did give me something to think about. Karen's type was big, strong, rugged guys. Precisely what I was not.

I wasn't going to win her over wearing delicate and pretty clothing. Perhaps I should take out the earrings right away. Yet it seemed a shame, after all they were a gift, and Joanne seemed to like them.

In the end, I did nothing and simply returned to my work.

* * *

It wasn't until around 1:00 that Karen arrived in the office from a client meeting.

When she saw me, there was an immediate look of disappointment.

It chilled me to receive such a cold response.

She made some small talk regarding our work project, and then disappeared into her office.

And so it went for the remainder of the afternoon. She barely acknowledged me, if at all, when she came and went from her office. Sitting at the desk outside her office, there was no escaping her silent anger. The room now felt like a refrigerator with its icy chill.

It wasn't until the end of the day that she called me into the office.

I entered with my head bowed like an errant schoolboy, not really sure what I had done wrong.

She immediately got to the point. "What are you wearing?"

"Oh, uhm, I'm sorry." I reached for an earring, starting to take it off.

"No silly. That's the one thing you did right."

"Oh, I don't understand." I looked down at my dress pants and shirt. There were no tares, shirt hanging out, or anything unprofessional that I could see.

"I thought you would try a little... I don't know, panache. Something pretty. Couldn't you try some of the clothes I gave you? And I know the makeup yesterday was too flamboyant for the office, but couldn't you use some rouge, or perhaps a touch of lipstick. And then there's your beautiful hair, tied back like that."

"And here you are wearing the same ugly and ill fitting shirt and pants I've seen you wearing last week."

"Oh." I was stunned, not sure what to say.

"At least tell me you're wearing the panties."

I shook my head.

She stared at me and impatiently tapped her fingers on the desk.

"I was hoping to have a nice dinner out with you tonight, but now." She gestured to my clothing.

"We could still go out. Can't we?"

"I'm not going out with you looking like that."

That really cut me to the bone. I thought she dated real manly men. I doubted that her blue-collar lovers impressed her with expensive suits. Yet that wasn't what she meant at all.

"You don't want to be seen with me looking like a man."

"Exactly."

I was expecting her to deny it. "But I am a man."

She paused, considering the right words. "Not really though. I mean, yes, biologically you are a man. But with your slim build, short stature, and small penis, you're not a real man."

I grimaced as though I had been slapped in the face.

"You are very pretty as a woman. You are clearly more passive, and enjoy caring for another person. Psychologically, you are much more feminine. That's what everyone picks up on. That's why all the ladies in the office think you're gay, and why you're still a virgin. You're not perceived as a man. You're considered one of the girls."

I thought back to my conversation with Joanne who had said much the same thing. I thought of the countless times I had hung out with the ladies gossiping, and felt like I was one of them.

"I just want you to embrace that nature, to be more feminine."

It was fun dressing up and having a makeover with her yesterday.

"Does this mean you think I'm gay or a transsexual?"

She shook her head and smiled broadly. "Gay. Definitely not. No homosexual man looks at me the way you do. And no gay guy is that good at licking pussy. That was truly something on Saturday night. One of, if not the best orgasms I have ever had. I want more like that."

I was now beaming with pride. I knew, unlike myself, that she was experienced and had many lovers. Yet I still stood out.

"Now, as for being transsexual, I don't think so. Transgender, yes. But, as I understand it, there's a spectrum. A transsexual is someone who completely identifies with the opposite of their biological sex. A woman trapped in a man's body. I'm no psychologist, but I don't think that's you."

I was relieved that she didn't think that. Although, I had to wonder as I always had an affinity for women's clothing. In part due to the influence of my mother and sister.

"However, I do think you are transgender. A crossdresser. A guy who embraces, and emulates female traits. Clothing, manners, and someone who is more comfortable in stereotypically women's roles."

This did sound like me. "But why do you want me, if you believe I'm transgender. Joanne told me about the guys you date. Big, strong, rough-edged construction types."

Karen sighed. Leave it to Joanne to gossip about her love life. "I love you because you're nothing like them. I didn't lie when I said men are not allowed to sleep over at my home. There's no intimacy. But with you, I don't know..." She paused to consider the right words. "I just feel that I can be myself when I'm with you, in control. And I do think you're pretty as a girl."

I was glowing. "You love me." She had never said that before.

"Yes dammit, I love you. I love you in a way that I never have with other guys. They are fun, and there's nothing quite like a good hard fuck. But I want to be with you. I'm happy with you. I love seeing you in a pretty dress, and on your knees."

"On my knees. That's part of it isn't it?"

"Yes, I like to be in control. In every aspect of my life, especially relationships. And so,, I'm attracted to someone who is..."

"Submissive." I said it. The word I dreaded as much as being called feminine.

"Yes."

Just as I loved and hated to wear the dress in public, I also loved and hated to be on my knees.

I loved her, and now she loved me. She loved me feminine and submissive. And so, I loved it to.

Her anger and frustration had now dissipated. "Well, since I had kept my evening open, would you like to come back to my place. You can make it up to me by cooking a nice dinner."

"Yeah, I'd like that." I completely ignored the tone, that I needed forgiveness for wearing men's clothing.

We locked up the office, and were out the door.

Upon entering Karen's home, she immediately directed me. "Go get changed. I'll be in the living room catching up on some emails."

"Changed?"

"Yes, you know your bedroom. It will be your room from now on. You have free access to the clothes, so help yourself to something pretty."

"Oh, ok." I wasn't totally sure about wearing women's clothing again. However, I suppose I should have expected this. From now on, anytime I was invited to her home, I would be emasculated.

I walked upstairs and back into the pink room. And the moment I walked in, my little penis twitched with excitement, remembering the erotic play of the weekend. Once I was in that room, surrounded by all those pretty clothes, and the pink bed spread, I felt at home.

I removed all my clothes and began to flip through the panty drawer. I found a cute pair of lace panties and put them on. Then I decided to wear some pantyhose, remembering how great my legs felt in them and how snag they kept my penis.

I debated putting on a bra, but for some reason it was the one thing I couldn't do. I was putting on a camisole when I heard a knock at the door.

"Christine, do you need any help with your makeup? Or do you remember the steps I showed you yesterday?"

"I'm ok." Shit, makeup. She expected me to wear makeup as well. I guess there was no getting out of it. I needed lipstick at the very least. And it did make me feel pretty and sexy.

"Hand me the boy clothes you were wearing and I'll take care of them."

Boy clothes? I was a man in my 20s, not a boy. And what was she going to do with them? I suppose toss them in the laundry. I handed them over, and saw her smile for the first time today when she looked at me.

She was off down the stairs again, leaving me to stare into the closet. I was becoming quite familiar with its contents over the past few days.

We weren't going anywhere tonight, so this gave me a certain freedom. I wanted to wear something that would make her happy. And I could always change back when I was leaving. Except, she took my clothes.

Oh well, I'll worry about that later. For now, I wanted to look pretty. I found a white dress with a cute floral pattern, and knew instantly that I wanted to wear it.

It slipped on easily. For a moment, I thought once more that I should be disturbed by how well I fit in these clothes. Yet, I was too happy for this thought to linger.

Sitting at the vanity table, I found the makeup kit where Karen left it. It was somewhat diminished by the makeup which was now at my apartment, but still enough to be functional and intimidating.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to remember the steps. What did Karen do yesterday? What did I remember from watching my mother and sister? Once I started, it seemed to come naturally. And I was pleased by the results. I really did look pretty.

I brushed my hair out, stepped into a matching pair of heels, and then headed downstairs.

As promised, I found Karen in the living room. Her smile said everything. She stood up, and embraced me as I came to her. "Christine you look lovely."

I did a slow twirl, allowing the hem of the dress to sway seductively.

Now everything felt right. I felt pretty, and loved by the woman I adore.

She kissed me, and I opened myself entirely to her embrace, and the gentle touch at the back of my head. My body tingled with excitement. That included my penis, but it was safely tucked away.

Karen hadn't changed, but she didn't need to. Wearing a navy blue skirt suit, she was a majestic beauty as always.

"Now, don't you feel better? Don't you wish you were wearing something pretty like this all day?"

Oh Goddess, this did feel amazing. The light fabric brushing against my skin, and most of all how pretty I felt when Karen looked at me. Yet, I couldn't really wear this at work. "Yes, I do."

Karen kissed me again.

"Now I believe my pet offered to make dinner as penance for wearing those ugly clothes."

I smiled and nodded. Penance? Oh, what difference did it make? I was going to take every opportunity to impress her, and cooking was one of my forte'.

I walked off to the kitchen, my heels clicking as I reached the tiles.

Here, I was in my element. Wearing the dress with its floral print and slightly older style, it was fun to imagine myself as the housewife preparing dinner for her lover.

I saw an apron hanging off to the side, untouched. This completed the look. I grabbed it and put it on immediately. I was almost giddy, loving this simple act of domestic service.

There was just one more added touch needed. I poured a glass of wine, and strolled out to the living room.

Karen was relaxed, stretching out on the sofa, tablet in hand, reading.

I set the wine on the side table next to her. "Dinner will be in about 40 minutes. Can I get you anything else dear?"

Karen smiled, loving my affectation of the fifties housewife. She leaned forward, and I bent down to kiss her.

"No that will be everything sweetie. Thank you." She playfully patted my bum, and then I was off to the kitchen.

I really do know my cooking. So it was 40 minutes later that I called out to her. "Dinner is ready dear."

She smiled at me as she entered the dining room. The table was neatly set. "It looks and smells wonderful sweetie. You have outdone yourself." She kissed me on the cheek.

I blushed and averted my eyes.

We sat down together, with her plate at the head of the table.

She moaned with delight at the first bite. "Oh Christine, this is delicious. Your place really is in the kitchen."

I used to dread working in the kitchen. Yet now that I could make this beautiful woman happy with my cooking, it was my comfort place.

We idly chatted over dinner. Yet there was something else, difficult to explain. Men will never understand, and perhaps women don't even think about it. Sitting in a dress you feel the fabric brushing against your thighs. Your bum rests on the silky fabric giving a tingling sensation. And the openness. Even with your legs closed, you feel both vulnerable and sexy.

And then staring at this beautiful woman before me. I considered dropping to my knees, and serving her right there.

We made it through dinner. Yet clearly Karen had lustful thoughts of her own.

I looked back at the dirty dishes. Perhaps hoping to calm my excitement with a domestic chore.

"Forget the dishes. You can clean them later." She took me by the hand and led me upstairs. Into her bedroom. The promised land.

Without ceremony, she had a grip on my hair and guided me to my knees. Her skirt was hiked up, and she pulled down her panties, before sitting on the edge of the bed in front of me.

"This is the other place you belong." She pushed my head into her pussy.

This woman was in no mood for the slow, sensual buildup.

Like my cooking, I knew what to do. And I was going to do everything possible to make her happy.

My tongue dove into her cunt, tasting her nectar. Goddess, she was wet. Fast flicks of the tongue, and then sucking. I inhaled her musky scent.

I pulled back, not wanting her to cum too quickly. Yet she was not having any of that. She pushed my head back in.

It was difficult to breathe, but I thought of nothing but the taste of her, and eliciting those moans of pleasure.

It was not long before she was crying out in ecstasy.

That was quick. Wham bam, thank you mam.

She was catching her breath and looking down at me with a contented smile. "That was what I needed. I've wanted your tongue inside me since seeing you in the dress yesterday morning."

Well that wasn't my fault. I wanted to stay in, and spend the day serving her. I didn't say anything.

Was it only my tongue welcome inside her? She wasn't the only one with pent up sexual energy. My little penis was aching to be released, and pressed against my lace panties.

She stood up, walking to her closet. Slowly, routinely, she began to undress.

I shifted up, about to sit on the bed. She gave me a cross look and pointed to the floor. I immediately slipped back down to my knees.

Karen was now naked except for her bra, and a matching red satin thong. She retrieved a robe, and slipped on some open heeled sandals.

Apparently, there was to be no release for my arousal. She offered me a hand, allowing me to rise.

We returned downstairs to the living room. Once more in the place where she had me on Saturday, kneeling as she teased me with the touch of her legs, and her breasts against my back.

"Wait here." She pointed to the floor in front of the sofa. My spot.

She left the room only to return with a handful of clothes, my clothes. The clothes I wore today, and it appeared Friday's as well. She sat down with the clothes piled up beside her.

"It's time that we help alleviate you from some distractions which are holding you back from embracing the real you."

She retrieved a strong pair of scissors from the side table which I hadn't noticed. Then I watched in astonishment as she cut one leg of the pants I wore today. Once past the threaded hem, there was a long tare up the seam, rendering them now useless.

"What are you doing?!"

She glared at me, as if to ask, 'How dare you question me?' Karen proceeded to cut the other pant leg.

I suppose I should have stopped her. I could have grabbed the pile of clothes from the sofa and run out of the room. Yet then what? Get dressed in my clothes and leave her house? Now that I was being welcomed into her home, why would I ever leave under any circumstance?

"I told you that these don't fit you. So, I'm helping to alleviate any confusion you may have regarding suitable attire."

"But I was wearing it at work. I can't wear a dress, like I am now, at work."

"Why not? I confirmed with Mrs. Simmons that dresses are allowed by the company dress code."

I was stunned that she would discuss this with my manager. "Yes, dresses are allowed for women."

She had moved onto the pants I wore on Friday. They were probably destroyed already by the wine stain, but it was still shocking to see them being shredded.

"Yes, it is probably not appropriate for a man to wear a dress, but we're talking about you."

What did that mean? I wasn't a man? It was one thing to dress up and play at her home. In fact, I was really starting to enjoy wearing a dress. Yet I was still a man. Wasn't I?

"You really spoke to Mrs. Simmons?"

"Of course, I wanted to ensure you wouldn't be contravening the company dress code. She thought it was a good idea for you to wear a dress or skirt."

"A good idea?!" I started to cry. My personal fantasies were being exposed to my boss, my workplace.

Karen was completely calm. Calm in a way that made me more nervous. She was now cutting up my shirts. "Yes, I told you. All the ladies like you, and they think you'll be happier once you embrace your feminine nature."

"My feminine nature?"

"Yes sweetie. Mrs. Simmons has a real affinity for you, and was glad I was taking you under my wing."

"I find that hard to believe.", While it was true that Mrs. Simmons had never said anything negative, or reprimanded me in any way, she had always been rather cold with me. I was the only man under her supervision, and I don't think she trusted me.

"She thinks you'll look nice, and it will be easier for the other ladies in administration to get along with you when you are more, uhm... effeminate."

Both my shirts and pants were now destroyed. She paused to gently wipe a tear from my cheek.

"Remember they all think you're gay. And if you are with someone, and looking pretty, they will be happy for you."

Yes, apparently they all thought I was gay. Being dressed like this, it would be hard to convince them otherwise. I was utterly humiliated, being stripped of my masculinity both here and now at work.

"But you don't think I'm gay. You said so." I was desperate to have this confirmation.

She smiled, delighting in my desperation. My under shirts were now being torn apart.

"No, you're not gay. You're a sissy."

I grimaced. That wasn't a lot better. Yet it was harder to deny. My penis stiffened in response. As much as my mind rebelled against the word, against my emasculation, my body ached for more.

"But you said you won't..." I glanced down at my hidden penis.

She shook her head and laughed. "You mean sleep with you. Let your little penis, that little nob, inside of me."

Yes, yes. Oh please, I'll do anything. I was so aroused, kneeling at her feet, wearing this dress.

Karen held my chin and stared into my eyes. "You want to make me happy, don't you?"

I nodded. I was utterly enthralled by her.

"You don't want to disappoint me, do you?"

Goddess no. I shook my head.

"Well sweetie. Let's only do what makes us happy, things that will impress me. Just last week, I slept with a guy who was 6 foot 8. And the muscles this guy had. He could pick me up like a doll. And his cock was, ummm.... It was huge."

You could see in her eyes that the mere memory of it made her body tingle.

"Now are you going to impress me with your manhood? Is your little penis, poking at my cunt, going to make me happy?"

I hung my head in shame. "No," I said in a nearly inaudible mumble. Tears streamed down my face.

This was the crux of the matter. I could never please a woman, certainly not a gorgeous woman like Karen, by being a man. Yet she was showing me another way. A way that I had resisted. Being pretty. Being feminine. Being submissive.

Karen continued to stare at me as my mind raced, and I was gradually resigning myself to my place at her feet.

She held up the last items of male clothing. My two briefs. "I don't think we need these anymore, do we?"

I stared at the last vestige of my male clothing, and wiped away my tears. Unlike the pants and shirts, when these were worn, there was nothing the outside world could detect as masculine or feminine. I could easily wear panties under a shirt and pants, and no one would be the wiser. Yet somehow this was more intimate. The lacy fabric now rubbing against my penis could never be mistaken for men's underwear. It was symbolic. What I wore over my sexual organ helped define me. Was I masculine or feminine?

Karen handed me the scissors, and the briefs. "I think you should do it. Embrace your femininity."

I looked at her in shock. She expected me to destroy my male undergarments, to actively disavow my masculinity. Of course, I had underwear at home, and these could easily be replaced. Yet to proactively say with their destruction, I don't belong in men's underwear.

I was on my knees looking up to her, wearing this beautiful dress, and yes, those lace panties. Was there anywhere else I'd rather be? Wearing anything else?

I cut into the briefs, rendering them garbage in moments.

It was hard to believe, but she was right. There was an odd sensation of relief as the undergarments, along with all my other male clothing, were destroyed. It meant for certain that I would be allowed to wear these cute panties and the pretty dress for the remainder of the evening at the very least. I idly wondered if I would ever wear men's briefs again.

Karen took the scissors and the shredded fabric from my hands and set them to the side. She then leaned forward and kissed me. "I'm proud of you sweetie. It takes courage to accept yourself for what you are. And I am so happy that from now on, you are going to focus on being pretty, and delicate. Isn't that right sweetie?"

Right now, I was under her spell. I nodded in agreement. Being at the feet of this beautiful woman who was only wearing her satin robe, bra and panties, I would have agreed that the sky was purple.

"I think it's time for your reward." She sat back on the sofa, allowing her feet to dangle in the air before me. And like the proverbial cat with a string, I was instantly reaching out, wanting to caress them.

She let me hold them and caress them. They were high enough that I could lower my head and lick the toes. I did just that, and pulled back a moment fearing I had overstepped my boundaries. The smile on her face told me that it was precisely the right thing to do. I took her toes into my mouth, one by one, and licked and sucked.

Karen was leaning back, moaning slightly from the pleasure and release I was providing her. First one foot and then the other. Deep long licks, kissing down the arch of her foot, and nibbling at her heels. I lost all track of time simply worshipping her feet.

I moved upwards, kissing and massaging her calves. And then her knees. She was watching me as I moved upwards, staring me in the eyes.

She ran her fingers through my hair and gently urged me forward. I kissed and licked up her inner thigh, tickling her skin. The skin was warm, and her muscles tensed and released. She moaned softly, coaxing me forward. Unlike earlier this evening, there was no rush. I was allowed to take my time.

I arrived at her panties which were already wet and musky. I kissed her slit through her panties, eliciting a moan of approval.

She shifted slightly. "Take them off." She ran her hand along the waistband of her panties.

It was a command I was happy to obey.

Once they were off, I buried my head between her thighs. Long deep licks, savouring the taste of her. Her pelvis twitched, and her thighs closed in around me, trapping me. My nose was pressed into her as I licked and sucked. At first I circled around her clit, avoiding it to prolong her pleasure, teasing her.

She was moaning and breathing heavily. Her whole body tensed and twitched with pleasure.

She gripped me by the hair and pulled me into her. There was only so much teasing she could tolerate.

I brushed my tongue along her clit with short, quick licks with the tip of my tongue.

"Ohh Yess!!" she cried out.

Long licks along her vagina, tasting her sweet nectar, and prolonging her excitement. Then once again, teasing her clit.

Karen's breath was stuttered as she moaned. Her head was tilted back, and her eyes closed. Her muscles tensed and released with the rhythm of my tongue.

Once again, she forced my head into her. I found her button and sucked on it sharply.

Karen's thighs clamped down upon me, and her whole body shook. One long scream of pleasure. It's a wonder that glass wasn't shattered as she climaxed.

I couldn't breathe. Yet at that moment, I was tasting her warm squirt, smelling her aroma, and feeling her thighs pressed into me. I would be happy to lose consciousness in her erotic embrace.

The orgasm subsided, and her body went slack, releasing me.

She looked down at me, stroking my hair and smiling. "Yep, definitely not gay," she chuckled.

I smiled in return, still catching my breath.

She leaned forward and kissed me, tasting herself on my lips. Gazing at my face, she laughed slightly. "You're makeup is ruined, but that's rather cute."

I looked down with embarrassment, not really sure what to say.

Once we had both caught our breath, I was prepared to continue licking. She sensed this and gave a knowing smile. Yet, it was not to be.

"It has been a long day, and we have an early morning tomorrow." She stroked my hair affectionately. "Let's call it a night."

Sensing my disappointment, she added. "Don't worry, I'll have you back on your knees, the first chance I get."

Karen stood up, found her panties, and put them back on.

For a moment I just knelt there admiring her beauty. She extended a hand to me, and I stood up.

As we passed the kitchen, I saw the clock. Was it really almost 11:00? I guess time flies when you are worshipping your mistress. For that was how I saw her now.

Once more, I was able to gaze upon that tight ass as I trailed her up the stairs.

I looked expectantly at her room, but she quickly quashed that hope. "Oh no sweetie, I don't sleep with anyone. You're back in your room."

In the hallway outside my room, my little penis twitched with excitement. This is where she gave me a handjob on Saturday night, to thank me for servicing her. I looked down at my crotch, and then to her with a hopeful smile.

She laughed and shook her head. "Oh no sweetie You don't get release every time you lick me. Having the honour of making me cum with your tongue should be its own reward."

"It is." I hastened to respond.

She kissed me. "Now Christine, I don't want you playing with yourself. You should be on edge, waiting for your chance to please me."

She looked at me directly in the eyes. "I decide when you are allowed to cum."

There was a lump in my throat, but I nodded my consent.

She kissed me. "Good night sweetie." And then, once more, I was left admiring those legs and that tight ass, as she walked down the hall to her room. She turned and gave a cute little wave, and then she was gone behind her bedroom door.

I stood for a moment staring at her bedroom door. If I was a real man, I should walk into that room and kiss her, woe her.

Yet she had made it clear that she didn't want that. And wasn't that the point of all this, the dress, the makeup, the heels. Wasn't the point that I'm not a real man.

Resigned, I walked into my room. Yet, once in my pink room, I felt oddly comfortable. Here I was able to make myself pretty, and be a sissy. I paused to think of that word. I had dreaded it for so long.

Yet here, it seemed undeniable. Yet more than that, I felt happy. I was wearing soft and pretty things, and that excited me, no matter how much I wanted to deny it.

Having watched my mother and sister's routine, I knew enough to remove my makeup. And this time, I remembered to take out the earrings.

I found a cute babydoll nightie, and changed.

Once in the bed, feeling that delicate fabric rub against my little penis, it was hard not to rub myself. Yet Karen's voice rolled in my head. "I don't want you playing with yourself."

It was hard. I was hard. Yet eventually I drifted off to sleep.