Here’re 8 sissy bondage stories for you:)

THE CUCKSITTER VISITS

As I watched my wife put on the finishing touches for her night out, I was once again overcome by how gorgeous she was, how sexy, how stylish, and how lucky I was to be her locked up little sissy bitch cuckold husband. I know the guy she was going to see tonight thought he was the lucky one, but he was wrong.

I was a little confused as to why I was on my knees just outside the bathroom door, and not in the cage we keep in the spare room, where I usually was when my wife went for a night out. She liked to pull up the camera feed while getting ready and occasionally when she was out, checking in on how I was coping with things.

The nights could run pretty long, into the next morning, and I knew it delighted my wife to see if I was bored enough to be sucking on the dildos she left me to practice with. She had yet to have me service a man, but talking about it was a big part of our play, plus stuff like the dildos.

There were three dildos that were in the cage with me. One I could comfortably deep throat, one I could just get to the bottom of for a few seconds, and one where I still couldn’t get past the halfway point without retching and gagging.

What really made my wife devious was that she had told me that there would be prizes if she ever tuned into the camera and saw me throating a dildo all the way down to the base. But of course, I didn’t know when she was and wasn’t watching so if I ever wanted a chance at the grand prize (being allowed to fuck her) I had to not only get to the base of the biggest dildo, but keep it there for an entire night. I hadn’t given up hope of hitting that mark, but the nights of practicing were pretty challenging.

She put the finishing touches on her lip color and turned to me. “You’re wondering why you’re not in the cage.” I nodded. I had known better than to ask. My wife was a great domme, and she would bring up whatever needed bringing up. She put the lid down on the toilet and sat on it. “Stand up and come here, pet.”

Goddess had a lot of names for me, and “pet” generally signaled that we were going to share a more tender or intimate moment. I stood before her. She ran her hands over the satin of my maid’s uniform, the petticoats under the skirt flattening out and then springing back as her hands came down to my knees.

She reached up under the skirt and pulled the front of my panties down. My locked cock sprang forward and she ran her exquisitely manicured fingernails lightly over my swollen balls. I swayed in my heels. There were more ways she didn’t touch my cock than those she did, but of the ones that remained her nails were my favorite.

“Do you remember how I met a new friend at my boot camp class a few months ago?”

I said I did.

“Well a few weeks ago I was really dragging in class and she asked about it. I said a new guy I met had kept me up all night. She said ‘wait, I thought you were married.’ I said ‘well…'” she paused. “One thing led to another and she is just as curious as all hell and to make a long story short she knows a lot about how you and I do things.”

I didn’t say anything. This wasn’t the first time, and if my wife wanted other people to know about our life that was her business. I trusted and loved her and I could tolerate the humiliation I hadn’t yet been able to stamp out in myself. I also didn’t see why this was related to my not being in the cage.

“Well,” said my wife, “She had a lot of questions about my end at first, where I meet guys, what kind of guy is out there to be met. She’s a committed single herself, pretty career focused, blah blah blah. But after a while her questions ended up pretty consistently focused on you.”

“Oh,” I said, starting to get a feeling for where this was going.

“Do you remember a conversation we had a long time ago where we just kind of spilled about this fantasy and that?” I remembered the conversation. It was pretty early in our relationship and once I’d confessed the big stuff I figured I might as well level about all the little ideas and setups I had running around in my head. I now had a much stronger feeling for where this was going.

“I remember,” I said.

“Good!” she said. “Then you remember telling me about how hot you would find it if I was out on a date and you were at home being supervised by a dominant woman! I got you a cuckysitter!”

“Thank you Goddess,” I hurried to say. I had never heard that word out loud, had never used it when I brought up the fantasy. My wife was doing her own research and though I was intimidated I loved her for it.

With my thanks and my appreciation for my wife out of the way I moved on to some of my other feelings. Goddess could see my brain shift into overdrive and she increased the pressure behind her fingernails. I swayed in my heels again and looked down at her.

“I think this is going to be a lot,” she said. “But I also think you can handle it.”

“Thank you Goddess,” I said. It meant a lot to me when she expressed faith in my abilities.

“We should talk about your safeword some time,” she said suddenly, “because I think you’re too proud to use it.” I didn’t say anything. I don’t know that I would have chalked it up to pride but I also couldn’t rule it out, and in any case she was right that I wasn’t going to use it. I worshiped my wife. I treasured the life she had given me, especially since I knew for a fact it wasn’t what she thought she was getting when she started dating what seemed like a normal, successful guy.

“Well,” she was going on, “I guess in the end I rest a lot on the fact that I’ve never given you anything you didn’t ask for, tonight included. And like I said, I think tonight is going to be intense but I also want it to be fun, not something just to be endured. I can’t even tell you how excited Hailey is for this. Just be yourself and it should be great.”

I laughed a bit on the inside. My wife knew full well that being myself meant being hopelessly submissive, dying to please her by pleasing her friend.

Her friend! A complete stranger! I looked down at myself. I was wearing my “play” uniform, which was more ornate and cumbersome than my “work” uniform. I thought that was because I was spending the night in the cage, but I suppose it was just because my wife wanted something more showy for her friend.

The uniform was bright pink satin, a high neckline covering my bra and breast plate, cap sleeves puffing out at each shoulder, and a wide skirt supported by several layers of starched petticoats. Ruffled lace panties held my caged cock tightly, and over them was a pink satin garter belt that was connected to the white lace-top stockings that contained my smooth legs. Pink 3″ heels matched the uniform. A brunette wavy-haired wig was styled on my head, and my makeup was more in the service of ‘sissy’ than ‘passable.’

I wondered what kind of kinky experience Goddess’ friend had. Any? I began to get a knot in my stomach. Goddess took her hand off of my balls and pulled my panties up, then smoothed my skirt over the petticoats.

“Take a step back,” she said. “Let me look at you.” I stepped back and followed her hand signal to turn in a slow circle. “You’re adorable,” she said, and as she did so the doorbell rang. Without hesitation, I jumped to get it. Our house wasn’t very big, which I was grateful for because every step I took gave a little bit of a bump to my mounting anxiety.

Some of the tension building within me dissipated literally the second I opened the door, because Goddess’ friend burst out in laughter. And I mean laughter, just an absolute uproar standing on our front steps, alternating between pointing at me and trying to form words and holding her sides.

I wonder sometimes about people who don’t get off on being humiliated. It seems rough, to be honest, because life will throw some humiliation at everyone sooner or later, and at least those of us who get a thrill from it have that as a consolation prize. As Goddess’ friend stood there cackling at the sight of me I found myself swelling in my cage something fierce. I stood there and just kind of soaked it in. Life goes some funny places, in more ways than one.

The laughing woman finally stumbled in the front door and I moved to shut the door behind her. Goddess walked up and warmly embraced her friend, then stepped back. “Hailey, this is my sissy husband. Sissy husband, this is Hailey.” Goddess and I had never discussed protocol for meeting another person while in sissy mode, but instinctively I figured I should curtsy, so I did. That brought another, more moderate round of laughter, and when that subsided Hailey held out her hand to be kissed. I took it and kissed it as I bowed.

“Thank you so much for coming, Hailey,” said Goddess.

“My pleasure!” Hailey exclaimed. “I’ve honestly been incredibly excited to see this whole deal in action.”

“Well if she knows what’s good for her she will not disappoint,” said Goddess as she shot me a look.

“So it’s ‘she’?” Hailey asked.

“More or less,” Goddess said. “‘Sissy’ takes the place of a proper name.” She paused, then mimed smacking her forehead. “Oh, wait! What do you want her to call you?”

“She calls you Goddess, right?” Hailey said. Goddess nodded. “What about…Princess?”

“You don’t have to ask,” Goddess told her. “You are in charge. Sissy, you will refer to my friend as Princess unless instructed otherwise.”

“Yes Goddess,” I said. I think Goddess had the sense that she should set the mood, or help Princess get in the right mindset, because there was a shift in her bearing; her shoulders drew back and she stood up a bit.

“Sissy,” she began. “I think you should thank Princess Hailey for being so generous with her time.”

“Thank you Princess,” I said.

“Are you worthy of her time and attention?”

“No Goddess.”

“Why is she here tonight?”

“To supervise me.”

“And why do you need supervision tonight?”

“Because you will be out.”

“Out doing what?”

Goddess and I had done this kind of question and answer thing before, usually with me in the cage. So I more or less knew my lines. “Out getting fucked,” I said softly. Goddess did not react. After a moment, she crossed her arms. “Out getting fucked by a real man,” I elaborated.

“Can’t you handle that? Why don’t you fuck me?”

There was a pause. Knowing my lines were one thing, it turned out saying them in front of someone else, someone I had just met, was another. “Because I’m a sissy, Goddess.”

“I see,” she said. “And sissies have little locked up cocks so that they do not get distracted from serving their superiors.”

“Yes Goddess.”

“Good,” she said. I looked up and Goddess was beaming, which made me feel very good. I saw a car pull up outside and heard Goddess’ phone buzz. She turned to her friend. “Thank you again, Hailey. I know we went over limits, and outside of that, she will do whatever you ask of her. I should be back around 2.” She gave Hailey a quick hug and turned to me for a longer embrace. “I’m proud of you,” she whispered in my ear. “Have fun. I love you more than anything.” And with that she slipped out the door.

That left me and Princess standing there. I found myself staring at the floor, reluctant to look her in the eyes.

“Okay,” I heard her say. “Oh my god. I’m so excited.” I looked up and she was smiling ear-to-ear. “I want to see it.”

“See it?” I asked.

“Your locked up little sissy clit! Your Goddess told me all about it and honestly there is one little detail I feel like I need to see to believe.”

There was the tiniest of pauses while I came to terms with the fact that this woman I had just met was now in charge of me for the next 6 hours. Slowly, I lifted the layers of petticoats under my skirt, exposing my pink panties, layer of ruffled lace on top of layer of ruffled lace. Hooking my thumbs into the waistband, I pulled them down.

Another peal of laughter erupted. “Okay,” she said. “Okay, you can put yourself back together.” I did so. “A little heart!” she cried. “Shaved into a little heart! Those are the cutest pubes I’ve ever seen, Sissy.” Goddess had requested that I shave them into shape a few days prior, and I assume she had told Princess about it in hopes that this moment would come to pass. I smiled inside and wondered if Goddess had lined up any other specific moments.

“Okay,” Princess was saying, “Mine to command, mine. Uh, make me a drink! A martini! And make it good!”

“Yes Princess,” I said, shuffling off to our bar. She dropped down on the couch in our front room and I could feel her eyes on me. I had a trademark martini that was excellent if you liked vermouth and I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to ask. Was that an ego thing? Look at what an excellent servant I am! I know you without asking! I dialed the recipe back by half and brought her the drink in a frosted glass. She smiled at me.

“Hmmmm…on your knees while I drink.” I got down on my knees. I took in her outfit as she drank, it seemed to be a very considered sort of casual. She was wearing faux leather black leggings, which were pristine in condition and gave the curve of her hips a shine. A white cropped t-shirt was similarly pristine and showed off both a tight stomach and substantial breasts. The only non-casual element were her heels, black leather booties with a 4″ heel and 1″ platform. Goddess had told her about my foot fetish, I realized.

I also realized my gaze had stalled on her shoes. I quickly looked up and she was waiting for me, meeting my eyes and smiling like the cat who knew all along a canary was about to waltz in here like an idiot.

“You can look,” she said as she uncrossed her legs and ran one of her feet up the inside of my thigh. I felt her trying to find her way past the petticoats and had to work to keep from smiling. But she got there, and I felt the tip of the boot lightly work itself into my balls. I squirmed.

“They’re not the most comfortable heels,” she said as she withdrew her feet. She snapped her fingers and pointed at the ottoman that was paired with one of our chairs. I fetched it and she kicked the heels off, putting her feet up and relaxing further into the couch. “Rub, Sissy” she commanded and I hastened to obey.

Her feet were amazing in a way that anyone with a foot fetish would instantly appreciate. Freshly pedicured in black polish, they had a lovely, flowing arch, a classic shape, delightful scrunch and cute little toes. I did my best amateur reflexology and it seemed to work, as she slowly sipped the drink and sunk farther and farther into the couch.

“It’s a good martini,” she murmured at one point. I continued rubbing as she finished the drink, at which point she withdrew her feet and stood up, pointing the empty glass at me. “Another,” she said, “And then you’re going to show me your playroom.”

I made another martini, dialing the vermouth up ever so slightly. Handing it to her, I started off toward the bedroom we kept devoted to our kinky activities. “Crawl, please” I heard her call after me. I dropped down and crawled ahead of her and I heard her giggle at the rise and fluff of my petticoats. Ours was a three bedroom place, the master in the back, a den, and our playroom. I crawled in and as she stepped in after me I heard her offer a soft “Oh my.”

It could be a bit overwhelming at first. The walls and ceiling were painted a deep rose, because Goddess wanted something feminine that wasn’t neon pink. A black throne chair with matching rose velvet cushioning sat against the wall opposite the door, the big cage immediately to its left, and both faced a very large floor-to-ceiling mirror. There was a spanking/bondage bench against another wall, and on the fourth a series of shelves that held all of our gear. Restraints, spanking implements, a substantial variety of plugs and dildos, plus assorted items devoted to pain and teasing.

I remained on all fours on the floor absent further instruction from Princess, who was occupied cataloging every item on the shelves. As she reached the end of the gear wall she found the closet door. She looked back at me. “That’s included,” I said.

She entered the closet and found my collection of femme clothes, letting out an “ooooooh” as she ran her hand down the row of hangers. Opening the bureau drawers one by one, she found more clothing as well as an assortment of lingerie and bikinis, my two other wigs mounted on styrofoam heads on top. She turned to face me, outlined in the closet door.

“This is amazing! You’re such a lucky little sissy!”

“I know it, Princess,” I offered. “Believe me.”

“This is too good not to see more of,” she said. “Oh! I know. I want a fashion show! I’m going to park it in this amazing chair and sip my drink and you’re going to go in there and put something on and then come show it off.”

“Any requests, Princess?” One of my pet peeves in the BDSM world was commands or requests that were too open-ended. “Do anything you want to me!” isn’t a very useful thing to hear from a sub, and “put something on” wasn’t all that useful either.

“Give me one sec,” she said, and turned around. I could hear the bureau drawers opening again, the clothes moving on the rack. “Okay,” she called, “There’s a pair of low-rise jeans you should pair with a top you think is cute, there’s an evening dress, and…” she paused. “There’s something you’re absolutely praying I do not find, isn’t there?”

I did not say anything. This was guidance, all right. Once again I was getting exactly what I asked for.

“Show me the first two outfits and then finish with the secret thing you were scared I was gonna select,” she said firmly. A second later she exited the closet and beckoned me to enter. I crawled in. Standing up, I quickly stripped my uniform. I was certainly feeling a lot of trepidation over showing myself in the last thing, but I wanted to keep the evening flowing and didn’t want a negative report for my Goddess.

I had panties that matched the low-rise jeans but I also figured Princess was looking to be entertained, so I threw on a thong and pulled it all the way up. I pulled on a push-up bra, pairing it with a tight sweater for what I thought was a classic look for a pair of tits. I swapped out my pumps for some black booties.

As I exited the room I saw Princess press play on her phone and a tinny bit of moderately chill techno filled the room. “Back and forth!” Princess cried. “Show it off!” As I reached the edge of the room and turned she was laughing, exclaiming “your little whale tail!” at me. So mission accomplished as far as entertainment value, I thought.

After a few back and forth laps she dismissed me to change into the second outfit. The show repeated itself, with her whistling and telling me I looked glamorous, which I wasn’t mad about hearing. Then it was time for the finale.

The outfit Princess had known existed sat on a hanger towards the back of the rack. It was a sluttier-than-the-cheapest-halloween-costume school girl outfit, a pleated plaid skirt that left both my caged cock and the bottom of my ass cheeks visible. The top was barely enough to contain my actual body, nevermind if I had a breast plate or stuffed bra.

I didn’t want to take the breastplate off, so I threw the top over it and paused for a tiny second to play with my breastplate nipples. The little joys of sissy life. Pulling on the skirt, I took off the black booties and opted for the platform heels, classic stripper shoes that matched the outfit. I swapped out my wig for the one with braided pigtails, took a deep breath and opened the door.

I did my best to strut out, which I’m sure was undercut by how I felt. Why is there a difference between parading around in big fluffy petticoats and a tiny skirt that doesn’t cover anything? I’m not sure, but there is. Princess had me go back and forth more than a few times, then suddenly she popped out of her seat and grabbed a dildo off the shelf. Settling back in the throne chair, she beckoned me over. I was grateful to break off the strut and I walked over.

She was sitting with her almost-empty drink in one hand and the other hand was holding the dildo right where it would rest if it were a natural appendage. “You know what to do,” she said sternly. I advanced on my knees and took the dildo in my mouth.

Luckily she had chosen one I could work with, but I needed to warm up and it took a decent effort. All of the time in the cage with nothing but dildos to occupy me had given me some actual skills in this department, as bizarre as it feels to be bragging about your wife locking you in a cage so you can suck on a fake cock. Life’s funny, I guess.

I was thinking I was almost warmed up when I saw her drain her drink out of the corner of my eye and she put the drink down, then moved to grab my two braids. Wig braids don’t quite make the handlebar that real hair does but I did my best to move with her hands and let her take the momentum, and as I bottomed out on the dildo I heard her grunting along.

I realized the dildo was lined up so that it was pressing directly on her clit, and her leggings were not likely to diffuse much of the force. As if I needed more motivation when fellating a gorgeous woman, the grunting was getting a less restrained tone to it and I wanted to contribute to that. I tried to get a rhythm going. I felt like things were really starting to build when she suddenly shoved me off of the cock. I fell backward onto my ass and sat there, unsure of what to do next.

“Goddamn,” she said, catching her breath. “Goddamn! Is that what having a cock is like? Listening to you gluck-gluck-gluck was driving me wild!” I didn’t say anything, and seemingly out of nowhere Princess dissolved into another fit of laughter. I transitioned from my ass to my knees and looked at the ground, figuring more instruction would be along when she recovered.

“Sorry about that, Sissy,” she said. “I just realized that I asked you if that was what having a cock was like!” She giggled again. “But you don’t know! Do you?”

There was a pause indicating it was an honest question and so I looked back at the ground, offering a sheepish “No Princess.”

“And why don’t you know?”

“Because I have a locked up little sissy clit, Princess.”

“Clit!” This brought more laughter. Humiliation fantasies often thrive on the idea that other people will laugh at you, verbally degrade you, that kind of thing. It’s different in the moment, when you have to wait for their laughter to subside, when you aren’t writing the whole script in your head. I’m not saying it’s bad, but if you had asked me in that moment if I was enjoying myself I would have had a hard time answering. It burned. The humiliation burned, but it also felt incredibly right.

I was dressed in a parody of a schoolgirl’s outfit, my ass was hanging out, I had just congratulated myself on my ability to fellate a dildo, my wife was out on a date, and whatever you wanted to call what was between my legs, it was confined to a very small tube that I couldn’t unlock. She was laughing at the reality of my life. If I loved that reality, and I genuinely did, laughter like this was part of the price of admission. I stayed on my knees and let her laugh.

“Okay, okay, okay,” she finally said. “I thought your original uniform was incredibly cute. Go change back into that and fix me another drink, then get back in here. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Still on my knees, I crawled back into the closet and hustled to change back into my original uniform, pausing only to make sure my wig was in a somewhat decent state before crawling out. I crawled past Princess, still sitting upright in the throne chair, and stood up only when I reached our bar. Quickly fixing the drink, I wasn’t quite sure how to crawl with it so I held it in my hands as I shuffled along on my knees, hoping that would suffice. Turning the corner into our dungeon, I caught sight of the surprise.

Princess was still on the throne chair, only now her upright posture had ceded to a casual slouch, her back nestled into the chair’s rear corner and one of her legs thrown up over the chair’s arm. Also, her leggings and panties were in a pile at the foot of the chair and her glistening pussy was staring at me.

“Your goddess likes to brag, did you know that?”

I silently shook my head.

“Yeah. Once I had some inkling of the kind of relationship you two had she became something like an evangelist, just telling me about all the benefits and how I should lock up the next guy I got with. You know what she said that would get me?”

I shook my head again.

“She said it would get me the best pussy eating I’d ever had in my entire life, guaranteed. Get the fuck over here and don’t make a liar out of your goddess.”

As I shuffled forward and handed over the drink I thought about the stakes. Princess seemed to think this was about my not embarrassing my Goddess by giving the lie to her boasting, but I knew it was that and much more – if that came to pass Goddess would ensure there were consequences.

I tried a few things at first, stroking Princess’ lips with my tongue, thrusting in for a longer, deeper stroke, and probing for her clit at the top. Feeling her hips move and listening to her breath I got the sense that I should focus on her clit, so I doubled my efforts there and was rewarded by her grabbing the back of my head and grinding against my face, with her ooohing and moaning and her breath getting faster.

That built for a while before she pushed me back, and I retreated to longer, softer strokes up and down the length of her pussy. She seemed to catch her breath and pulled me back in, muttering “fuuucccckkk. she wasn’t lying.” I smiled to myself while trying not to lose my pace or rhythm. There was another breath-catching pause and another re-vamping, and then Princess was grinding into my face harder and harder while panting, then screaming, then shoving me away and slumping in the chair.

A few minutes passed with each of us staring at the ceiling, catching our breath. She cleared her throat.

“Well, sissy, you didn’t disappoint. In fact, I’m kinda blown away. Maybe Goddess is right and I should find a bitch and lock her up.”

Goddess had joked in the past about FLR evangelism, and maybe she was moving in that direction. Mostly I was just glad I had lived up to my billing.

“You know what,” Princess continued, “I’m so pleased I want to give you a reward.” She stood up and walked over to the shelves that held all of our gear. “Take off your uniform and stand up,” she said over her shoulder as she surveyed the options.

I stood and stripped as directed, feeling lightly awkward in my panties, breastplate and bra. It didn’t matter that I had just gone down on this woman, I had only known her for a few hours and that was enough that I felt awkward.

She came up behind me and crouched down, instructing me to lift one foot and then another as she drew a strap-on harness up my legs. Cinching it into place, she reached into the cage for one of the dildos I was usually occupied with when Goddess was out. Hesitating in her choice, she eventually picked up the big one, chuckling as she slipped it in to the front side of the harness.

“Not a familiar sight for you, I am sure,” she told me as I stared down at a huge cock now blocking my view of my chastity cage. She told me to sit in the throne chair and she returned to the gear shelf, now crossing the room with the full-length belts, which she used to strap my arms and legs to the chair. Lastly she grabbed a bottle of lube off the shelf and dropped to her knees in front of me, squirting a sizeable amount into her hand.

Then she started stroking. Staring me straight in the eyes, Princess gave me what would have been the best handjob of my goddamn life if it had been to something other than a fake plastic cock that was resting just below my stomach. She even bit her lip and gave me an incredibly seductive grin as her thumb made small circles on the dildo’s frenulum. “Your Goddess told me you like tease and denial,” she said. “I hope this counts.”

It certainly did. There was almost a phantom limb thing happening – my brain felt like it was supposed to be getting signals of pleasure, couldn’t quite process that it wasn’t. The resulting signals and misfires happening felt profoundly odd, a sort of three degrees off from pleasurable. I got the image of a child sitting in an expensive sportscar, unable to reach the pedals or move the stick shift, just making noises and going through motions. I slumped in the chair, whimpering.

“That’s it, baby” Princess cooed. “Get into it.” I closed my eyes and sank into how incredibly frustrating it felt.

“Okay,” she purred after some amount of time I’d failed to keep track of. Standing up, she left me with my fake cock twitching while she went and washed her hands. Coming back, she removed the belt from one arm and told me to let myself out, clean myself up, put on some cute evening wear and bring the belts to the living room.

I did as instructed, slipping on a pale pink nightie. I found Princess on the couch, remote in hand, bowl of popcorn next to her. “Down,” she told me, “All fours.” I did so and she slipped a belt around my ankles, another around my thighs, and one looped several times around my forearms. Plopping back down on the couch she put her feet up across my back and went back to flipping around for something to watch.

A classic ending for a sitter, I thought. Make sure your charge is no longer a concern and then settle in for a movie. Princess seemed to have had her fill of kinky fun, because from that moment on I was little more than furniture. Princess ended up watching a Real Housewives reunion, and I listened to people I didn’t know engage in round after round of bickering until I finally heard Goddess’ key in the front door.

“Helllllloooo?” I heard her call as she crossed the front rooms. Turning the corner into our living room, she laughed at the sight. “Isn’t this perfect!” she cried. “Hailey, you look like you’re at home. Was my little bitch well behaved?”

“Perfectly,” answered Princess.

“I want to hear all about it,” she said, “But first things first.” She quickly stepped away to the bathroom and returned a moment later, something cupped in her hand. She crouched in front of me. “Open,” she told me, and after I did she placed her panties, soaked with her juices and a substantial amount of her lover’s cum, directly on my tongue. With one finger she gently pushed my mouth shut and then she sat down next to Hailey, throwing her feet across my back and her arm around her friend.

Princess recapped the evening from her point of view, and Goddess dished on her evening out. Neither spared any detail and I marveled at my life as I knelt there, straining in my cage and savoring the strong taste of Goddess’ gift to me. I was, I was certain, the luckiest little sissy cuck in the entire world.