Sissy's Mistress Visit Surprise by Throne!

Sissy's Mistress Visit Surprise

by Throne!

A husband goes on one of his secret visits to his Mistress. She dresses him in sissy style. He feels secure. It's not as if his wife and his business partner are going to show up together and surprise him. Or is it?

"I have to run out for a while," Ms. Anne told me.

"Well, um..." I wrapped my arms around myself. "You don't usually leave me alone. Should I have something else to wear while you're gone?"

"Why?" the tall commanding woman said. She had on a classic Little Black Dress, dark stockings, and purple pumps that I would love to wear if they were in a lighter color. "That saffron robe looks divine on you, and those over-the-knee socks go so well with it. It was tricky to find it
all in the same color."

I had to admit that the vibrant yellow-orange was attractive, especially with the blond wig she had put on me, which was short and featured bangs. Still, our dress-up sessions had never included her leaving me before. My shapely, dark-tressed Mistress was always so attentive to my special needs and to making sure I minced and whispered the entire time I was at her remote home.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, princess," she said reassuringly. "What could possibly happen while you're alone?" As an afterthought she added, "Oh, I might be getting a special delivery. If someone rings the bell, just open the door to them."

"But... I mean... they would see me like this." "And be quite impressed, I'm sure. Relax, Melody."

It always went straight to my heart when she used my feminine name, instead of calling me Mel. Some of the tension drained out of me. After all, Ms. Anne knew me so well, and always catered to my particular needs. I had divulged my most secret fantasies to her and, though they involved my wife and therefore couldn't be acted on, it was still a thrill to have her speculate on what could happen if they were ever fulfilled. My Mistress swept out of the room, with a final instruction that I should take some selfies in what I was wearing. I sipped on the wine that she had poured for me on my arrival. Then I fussed with my make-up. Half an hour after that, I had captured several images of myself toasting with the stemmed glass, puckering my lips at the camera and teasingly showing my tongue. That was when the doorbell sounded. I pulled the robe more tightly around me and retied the belt, with the fringe on the ends of it swinging.

I took a deep breath and went to the door. When I opened it, I got the shock of my life. There stood my wife, Justine. Next to her was my business partner, Drake, his tall broad-shouldered figure looking smart in a sport coat, casual shirt, and slacks. Before I could recover, they breezed past me.

My wife called back, "Shut the door, Melody."

I did as I was told. Drake snapped his fingers and motioned for me to approach him. When I got there, he placed his large hands on my shoulders.

"Aren't you just too cute?" he said. He wanted my bride to tell him, "Don't you think so, babe?"

"I do." She was radiant in a sleeveless top and tight slacks, her long blond hair in a ponytail, high on the back of her head. "It gets me kind of hot to see him like that, so girly and helpless."

"Gets you hot?" he echoed. "I can do something about that."

The big man took her in his arms and pulled her close. Instead of resisting, she went limp, turned up her face, closed her eyes, and parted her full lips. He brought his mouth to hers and delivered a kiss that made me shudder with nervous tension. How could this be happening?

When they broke their lip-lock, he said to me, "Let's see what's going on under that colorful robe, sweetie."

Because I hesitated, Justine stepped in and untied the belt. She moved

back and pantomimed how I should take hold of the halves of the robe's front and separate them. Still in a daze, not able to think of anything else to do, I did as they wished. Drake chuckled. He had never seen my body before. His reaction, I was sure, was largely because of the absence of hair. I had always told my wife that I'd gotten in the habit of keeping everything smooth back in my college days, when I was on the swim team. She'd accepted that, at least outwardly, though I now had to wonder if it had raised suspicions. The guy with who I co-owned a business turned his attention specifically to my bald genitals.

My wife asked him, "What do you think? Is his stuff as small as I said?"

"Hell." He shook his head. "It's even smaller. You were being generous. Not enough there for you to enjoy."

She laughed. "Yeah, but I do love the guy at some level. It's just that, ever since I figured out something was going on behind my back, and then found his secret stash of fabulous fashions, I knew a change had to come."

"Following him to this place a month ago helped you decide," he reminded her.

"And using that spy camera you got me, Drake, to use while I was out of town on business, sealed the deal."

To me, the man who had just kissed my wife said, "So we contacted Ms. Anne, or Mistress Anne if you prefer, and she suggested this solution. I think everybody can come through it fine, if we all work together."

"Right," seconded Justine. "But while we're helping each other to sort everything out, Drake and I each get one vote and you get none... sissy. Or do you want to deny any of what I've discovered?"

"Um..." Everything inside me was vibrating. "No?"

"You don't sound very sure," Justine pointed out. "Maybe that's just part of being a submissive panty-wearer."

I stupidly said, "But I'm not wearing panties."

That set off laughter from both of them. Drake put his arm around her and they shared another unhurried kiss, making no effort to hide from me that both of them had their mouths open. I had confessed to Ms. Anne that being cheated on was part of my fantasy, especially if my wife was with a powerful man. I had also explained that it wasn't something I desired to

have take place in real life. In contradiction to what I'd always thought, my penis stood up at the sight of Justine openly betryaing our marriage vows. In my confusion, I had neglected to pull the robe together, so when their lips parted, they saw the shameful proof of my perversion.

"Whoa," said Justine. "His little guy is pointing at us. Looks like the junior joystick approves."

"It's not like that," I said unconvincingly. "All this is only because, you know, we haven't been... err... doing it at home."

"Your visits to Ms. Anne go back a lot longer than that. The reason I cut you off from sex a few weeks ago, was because I learned your naughty secrets." When I tried to adjust my robe, she lightly slapped my hands. "No, no, Melody. I want your laughably small pecker on display, to remind all of us what you're lacking."

Drake said, "From what she tells me, you're also short on confidence in bed."

"And technique," Justine contributed. "There are so many areas where he doesn't qualify. But that's all been remedied since I started hitting the sheets with a properly equipped man." She took Drake's hand possessively.

He carried on with, "Ms. Anne said we were welcome to use her spare bedroom. Wasn't that nice of her?"

I could only say, "Yes."

He corrected, "That should be 'Yes, Sir'. And remember to use your prissy sissy voice."

"Yeah," said my wife. "Like you do when you're posing in front of the full-length mirror at home, the one you said you got for me. Let us hear your soft dulcet tones."

"Do it," Drake commanded. "Say that you'll show us the way to that bedroom."

I took a steadying breath. My dick was so hard it hurt. My neglected balls throbbed. I slipped into my melodious way of speaking when I said, "Let me show you the way to the guest bedroom, Sir and Ma'am."

They smiled at that. I cringed inside. With them behind me, I took small

steps and put one foot in front of the other, as I passed down the hallway. At the correct door, I stood aside and motioned for them to go in. They passed by but, at the last second, Justine seized my wrist and tugged. I let myself be dragged along without resistance. She positioned me beside the bed and pulled the robe off my shoulders. It fell halfway down in the back before becoming stuck there. I was still dressed but more uncovered than ever. A fierce glance from my business partner prevented me from putting the garment back in place.

They began to undress each other. It was plain how relaxed they were, not just about sex but concerning romantic feelings as well. To have my wife fall for someone else had been one of my most cherished scenarios. Dealing with it as a harsh reality was something else. I bit my lips to keep from whimpering as they tenderly touched each other and shared light kisses. When Justine lowered Drake's shorts, I saw that they hadn't exaggerated about him having more than me to offer. His cock was long and thick, his balls heavy and low-hanging. I few touches from her hands had him hard, with his scrotum drawn up. She sat on the edge of the bed and learned forward to press her lips to his washboard abs. He ran his fingers over her silky hair without mussing it. I realized I was panting. My hands wanted to rise, so my fingers could play with my nipples, the way I did when alone or, sometimes, when Ms. Anne ordered me to.

Justine reclined, naked and available. Drake got onto the bed between her spread legs. There was a brief bit of foreplay before he brought the bulging head of his member into contact with her pink divide. She sighed, something I wasn't used to hearing when her bedmate was me.

As if my disgrace wasn't already bad enough, she said, "It will be so satisfying to have someone inside me who doesn't shoot off before I'm anywhere near to finishing."

"No problem," he said, his words brimming with self-assurance.

He eased into her. She purred happily. As Drake set up a steady in-out rhythm, Justine sighed.

She said breathily, "It's such a change to have someone who can fill me the way you do, and go so much deeper than I'm used to."

It was like she was reading the dialogue from one of the promiscuous wife stories I sought out online. What was taking place also followed familiar plots, with me in the part of the feminized cuckold husband. Drake more than capably inhabited the role of what is often called the Bull. He became more bull-like as he increased the tempo of his thrusts. That

enviable organ vanished and reappeared, coming dangerously close to slipping free before each long inward stroke. My wife responded with moans of pleasure. I saw her toes curl. She held onto his powerful shoulders and met his pushes with jerks of her pelvis. They were synchronized in their lovemaking.

As if to force me to recall my premature finishing problem, they went on and on. Justine experienced two minor climaxes, accompanied by words of encouragement for the man driving her over the edge. Then, after what must have been a full hour, Drake began to pump furiously. She squirmed and squealed. He launched her into a full-body orgasm. At the same time, he allowed himself to relinquish self-control and spurt his seed. I was horrified. I was also more stimulated than I could remember ever being. The scents of intercourse hung heavily in the air. The lovers settled down and he rolled off of her. His tool, soft but still larger than mine was when stiff, ended up draped across his firm thigh. Her legs remained parted, with her pussy lewdly exposed, overflowing with his cream.

"It's time to get busy, Melody," she said. "I need some TLC for my sore slit, after the way Drake pounded it."

"And she has to be cleaned up, too," he informed me. "I know I left a big mess down there."

"So, get started," she told me. In case that wasn't clear enough, she included, "Get your head between my legs and start licking. I know you'll give me more fun that way then you ever did with your miniature pecker, Missy."

Being talked down to that way, having my male appendage insulted, and being treated like the sissy I had always been inside, set my libido on fire. Even so, the act of licking out her furrow, and sucking to extract what was beyond the reach of my tongue, as much as it had been an essential component of my dream scene, was now nauseating me. My mind said NO, yet my rigid but puny prick insisted YES. I got into position, with my nose inches from the oozing slit. Gagging with revulsion, yet driven on by kinky cravings, I lapped up a generous dollop of Drake's contribution and forced myself to swallow it. As I continued licking, I turned my eyes upward. Past my wife's heaving bosom, with her desirable breasts so near but now so far out of my reach, I saw them kissing once more. Any hopes I still harbored were wiped away. I got my tongue inside her, already thinking about how I would finish the job with the most effective suction I could create.

My efforts made Justine's sexual temperature rise. She breathed louder.

Got wetter. My wife let out a long moan and had a lesser finale than any of those Drake had been able to give her.

She sighed and said, "You'll be doing that job a lot, Melody. It will be so pleasant to have a licky-licky sissy nearby, ready to worship me below the waist on demand. Be a good girl and I might even let you touch me there one last time, with just the tip of your tiny tinkler, to remind you of what you're not allowed to do anymore."

Ms. Anne eventually returned, after Justine phoned her. My Mistress was delighted that everything had worked out the way it did.

She said her only regret was, "I will miss seeing Melody for her regular sessions."

"No, you won't," Justine promised. "I want my husband to keep coming here. Instead of him, I'll be footing the bill. He's not going to have access to our joint accounts any longer."

Ms. Anne said, "I like what I'm hearing."

My wife went on, "When I talked to you a week ago, to set up all this, you mentioned that you're rougher on some of your sissies that you've been on Melody."

"That's true. I have all sorts of nasty toys that I use on those ones:

paddles, butt plugs, bondage clothes, a vice for their balls. There's even a strap-on harness that can be fitted with a variety of dildos, when I want to play Anal Invader."

"I like all of that," my wife confirmed gleefully. "Especially the last one. I'd love to stop by and see Melody get her ass reamed. Maybe it could be a bigger rubber cock each time."

"Can do. And I have hot pepper sauce to use for lube, on girly boys who need special mistreatment."

The women laughed together. I spotted Drake smirking triumphantly.

My wife went on, "We might have to skip some visits, while I'm occupied with getting all of our assets transferred solely to my name. The poor simp is going to end up penniless, totally dependent on me for everything. He won't even have lunch money unless I give it to him." She chuckled. "I'll make him take the brown bag route. I'm already planning menus full of things like sour pickles, black olives, and sandwiches made with the

smelliest cheese I can find. He'll have to do a video chat with me when he eats at the office, so I can see his face while he chews all that unappetizing stuff."

"And he'll have plenty of time to do that," Drake offered, "because I'll be taking over all his important duties. He'll be reduced to a glorified office boy."

My wife said, "With lace undies on under his business drag." A sudden inspiration struck her. "And maybe a panty girdle."

"Plus," Drake said, locking eyes with me, "I insisted that we lock him in chastity. It'll be the smallest cock-lock we can find. Maybe when you play hide-the-sausage with his butt, Ms. Anne, it might make him cum. It'd be damn funny if that happened, and it became the only way he could get any relief."

Justine enthused, "He might even get addicted to it. Imagine him coming to you, Anne, and begging to have his ass drilled."

My Mistress suggested, "With the fake phallus I call Big Ben."

I had to listen without saying a word. Visions of what my future would be filled my head. Justine spoke about how, as I spent less time at the office, I would be free to clean our home. Drake said I could do the same at his penthouse apartment. I pictured myself in a French maid outfit with a big feather duster in one hand and a polishing rag in the other, busily performing menial chores.

My spirits sank. There was no hope for me. I was doomed. So why was my little dick so full that it felt ready to split open? It was going to be
like that often, at least until my cheating wife and domineering business partner put it into solitary confinement, in a chastity that would squeeze it down to a mere nubbin.

I sighed, sank to my knees, and spontaneously hugged my wife's leg. My cheek pressed against her warm thigh.

She said, "I'll allow that touching this time, Melody, but never do it again without begging for permission. You wouldn't want to earn a spanking, would you?"

I already knew the answer to that question but I didn't say it. Instead, I lied and told her, "No Ma'am. I'll be a good pansy for you and Drake."