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I received some very negative and very aggressive comments about previous chapter postings. If you are not aroused by FemDom, Humiliation, and Forced Fem please do not bother to read this. These stories are for the benefit of those who enjoy this form of erotica.
I lost all concept of time as I fell into a rhythm of incredible stimulation to my penis during which my mind would flood with images of Kelli’s fragrant pussy as, with every breath, it was as though my face was buried between her legs. The crotch of her panties covered my nose and I inhaled her womanhood as though in a trance. I imagined myself thrusting into her, ready to explode, then the stimulation would suddenly stop and I would remember that I would never again enter her in such a way. Or, sometimes, my mind would picture Nurse Pyre’s beautiful, round, firm, and large breasts and just as I would imagine rubbing my cock between them and exploding over her nipples the machine would stop. My mind even went to the image of my sitting in front of Ms. Panington and Ms. Jensen with my cock in my hand and the embarrassment of my accident. The machine abruptly stopped all stimulation when I thought of that scene. This reinforced that being sexually humiliated by women brought me to the edge of orgasm.
The room had been totally silent for the longest time. Suddenly I began to hear a faint voice. I thought at first that it was my mind playing tricks on me, but the voice became gradually louder until I could determine that it was the voice of Ms. Panington. It seemed to be coming from multiple speakers in the room. As the voice became louder I began to be able to understand what was being said.
“You have been a naughty, naughty boy, Tom. You have demonstrated quite clearly that you are not man enough to manage the responsibility of a penis. It no longer belongs to you, Tom. It belongs to Kelli. Your little wee-wee belongs to your wife, Tom. No more touching without supervision, Tom, no more wanking. We will be training you to serve all women, Tom.”
Soon I realized that this taped message was being repeated each time the stimulation machine stopped. Part of me knew that it was some sort of mind control and I thought that I should somehow resist. There was another, stronger, deeper part of me that wanted to submit, that wanted my penis to be controlled by women. After all, I had often jerked off while reading stories of female domination and forced chastity.
I was so confused. I so much wanted to ejaculate—each time the device brought me to the edge I hoped that the software would fail and I willed myself to cum, but to no avail. I felt humiliated to be confined as I was and as I reviewed the events of this very long day; but then I found myself strangely excited and thankful that I was having this powerful sexual experience. I felt scared about what my future might hold; yet I was heartened by the thought that Kelli seemed so interested in me and helping me improve as her husband. I felt embarrassed to have the women at this Institute know so much about me and see me in such demeaning circumstances; yet I felt a freedom that my masturbation and my fetishes were no longer secret—and I found it arousing that these women knew my secrets.
So I was well into the rhythm of these thoughts and sensations when the door to the exam room opened. Without a word Nurse Pyre entered allowing the light from the hallway to illuminate her task. Without a word, the first thing she did was to remove Kelli’s panties from bahis firmaları my head. Then she unbuckled my wrists from the side of the table and my ankles from the stirrups. She gently massaged my thighs and calves as she forced my legs to lay straight on the table. She flipped a switch on the stimulation machine, and with a notable sucking noise, pulled the milking tube from my swollen cock. She put on a pair of rubber gloves and put some ointment in her palm and began to coat my shaft with an oily substance. I started to speak, but she silenced me with a “Ssshhh!” then told me “This is a numbing cream. It will help you sleep.”
“Sit up, Tom,” she instructed, “You may feel a bit dizzy for a few minutes. Once you are up to it, hop off the table and go and pee. Then we’ll prepare you for bed.” I did as I was told, relieved to empty my bladder and looking forward to being able to sleep. “Did you learn your lesson, Tom? No more unauthorized ejaculations.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” is all I said.
I was still wearing the white nylon and lace Mommy panties, but Nurse Pyre was again back in her nurse’s dress. She opened a drawer and took out a long-leg high-waisted panty girdle that looked to be a couple sizes too small for me. She handed it to me, saying only, “Wriggle into this. It will help you resist temptation.” While putting it on I noticed that it was belted with a small padlock hanging from the back. Once I was securely in the girdle, Nurse Pyre secured the belt with the lock. It would be impossible to get it off, and my penis was scrunched tight against my belly. Once satisfied that all was secure, she motioned for me to follow her out of the exam room. Back to the elevator where we took a silent ride up several floors, then down a short hallway to a room she unlocked with a key. She pushed the door open, motioned for me to enter, then pulled the door shut and locked it from the outside. I heard her heels clicking down the tile hallway as I fumbled to find a light switch.
The room was small and square, probably about 12 X 12 with no windows. There was no bathroom, but a door revealed a large walk-in closet. There was a nightstand and a bureau and one twin bed. The room was appointed in an overtly feminine style with a floral-patterned comforter covering sheets and pillowcases of a deep peach color. There would be time enough in the morning to take more of a look around. All I could think of now was sleep and I crawled between the soft sheets with awareness that all I was wearing was a pair of the nylon panties I had craved for so long, a restrictive panty girdle, and of course my arousal monitor.
Sleep came almost instantly. The next thing I knew I heard a key turning in the lock and the door opened and the light snapped on. It was Ms. Jensen. “Good morning, Tom. Sleep good? I brought you some coffee. I will be showing you to the bathroom where you may shower, shave, everything mind you, and take care of your toileting needs. I got out of bed forgetting for a moment that I was wearing a women’s high-waisted panty girdle, then startled by Ms. Jensen’s laugh, “Oh look at what Nurse Pyre put you in. She is so funny. I’m sure she made you wear a panty girdle just to embarrass you, Tom, because of course your monitor would have told us if you played with yourself, wouldn’t it have, Tom?” I could feel my face flush and I pulled the bedsheet around my middle. “Don’t be silly, Tom. Remember, you have no privacy here. Come here. I’ll unlock you. Nurse Pyre left the key on a hook outside kaçak iddaa the door.”
After I was unlocked I peeled the girdle down. “Panties, too, Tom. I’m sure they’re in need of cleaning by now.” Soon I stood naked in front of Ms. Jensen who herself was dressed in a charcoal gray business suit with the skirt just above her knees and accented with a deep lavender silk blouse, black opaque tights, and over-the-calf black leather boots with three-inch stilettos. “Follow me, Tom.” Just a couple doors down was a large bathroom with a toilet, glass-enclosed shower, a twin vanity, and a pair of ornate wrought iron stools with round pink cushions. Ms. Jensen sat on one of the stools, opened her laptop that she placed on the vanity, and said, “Get going, Tom. We will be joining Ms. Panington for breakfast and she is expecting us in a half hour.”
I stood at the toilet for the longest time. I had to pee really badly, but the flow wouldn’t begin with the knowledge that this attractive and fully clothed woman was watching my every move. Finally! I hurriedly showered after Ms. Jensen removed the monitor to prevent the electronics from getting wet. Then I stood patiently in front of her as she secured it again, doing so in a most cursory manner, but with the tiniest hint of a smirk. Once I completed shaving, she walked me back to my room, and then said, “I am going to leave you to get dressed, Tom. I will be back in ten minutes. Everything you will need is in the bureau and the closet. Have fun.”
I walked to the bureau and opened the top drawer. Arranged in neat rows were dozens of panties. They were all of the same nylon and lace style as the pair that had gotten me in trouble in front of Ms. Panington and Ms. Jensen, but in addition to white there were stacks of various pastel colors and patterns. My cock began to grow at the sight of them and I thought about stroking it and relieving all of my pent-up frustration right then and there, but I knew that the monitor would alert them and I did not want to endure another punishment, not so soon anyway. “Dang it,” I thought, “They will be able to tell that I got hard just by opening the bureau drawer.” I opened the second drawer and was surprised to find rows of neatly arranged bras on one side and, on the other side, 4 rows of various size silicone breast forms. I had never actually touched one of these forms before, and my cock throbbed as I picked up a large form and placed it, just for fun mind you, over my man-breast. I found myself giggling like a school girl at the thought of having my very own boobs. The next drawer contained multiple packages of brand new pantyhose, thigh highs, and stockings with several styles of garter belts. And the bottom drawer contained all manner of shapewear from waist cinchers, open-bottomed girdles, padded panties, everything.
I figured that I was expected to choose something from these drawers, but what? I decided to look in the closet before deciding on underwear. When I flipped on the closet light I saw all manner of feminine footwear lined up against 3 walls, all I could readily see were in my size. Hanging on racks on both sides of the closet were uniforms of various styles and types. They ranged from skimpy cocktail waitress uniforms, to ultra-sissy French maid uniforms with petticoats, to basic hotel maid uniforms, to flight attendant outfits. None were the kind of clothes that Kelli wore or that I had seen Ms. Panington or Ms. Jensen in, all seemed to be representative of women either in servile roles.
Was kaçak bahis I to wear…was I to be allowed…was I to be required…to wear such things? This was the epitome of my masturbation fantasies. Kelli had video-taped me jerking off while wearing her underwear, and she must have tracked my internet history and saw that I spent considerable time on sissy and forced feminization sites. My entire body tingled and my cock throbbed with the realization that Kelli knew that I was a sissy; and not only she knew it, but obviously Ms. Panington and the staff of the Institute as well. I wanted to sit down amongst all those sissy feminine clothes and jerk off, but I knew that my penis was being monitored. I would not be able to deny my arousal at seeing the clothing in the bureau and this closet. As I realized this I felt a flooding of humiliation. Not only was I a sissy, but my wife knew about it, had told others, and seemed to be about to take advantage of my true nature.
I began to tremble, this time not with excitement, but with absolute humiliation. I was not really a man and I was of course not a woman. I was a sissy. Was Kelli prepared to accept this about me? Would I be able to accept this about myself? I heard a key in the lock and Ms. Jensen walked in to find me trembling in the closet, still naked and trembling like a leaf. “What’s wrong, Tom? I told you tht you had ten minutes to dress for your meeting with Ms. Panington,” Ms. Jensen said with a concerned tone.
I could not find words to express how I felt and I stood speechless in front of her, my penis now flaccid and attempting to retreat inside of me. “Let me guess, Tom. You are struggling with the realization that you are about to enter an entirely new world, and you are afraid to give up your feeble efforts at being a man. Just seeing the clothing that will be your future is a little frightening, eh?”
“Yes, Ms. Jensen,” I began, “I am so confused. I have been trying to be manly my whole life, but there is something so appealing about the clothing I see here.”
“We know, Tom. And Kelli knows too. She has known for a long time. She first came here seeking counsel to see if we could help her retrain you to become more of a man. At first we thought it was possible, but when she showed us some of the videos of your masturbating while wearing women’s clothes, the websites you frequented, the images you jerked off to, and when we saw the size of your penis…well, Tom, we told her it was best to embrace that her husband was a sissy and she agreed to have us train you in the service of women.” She stopped for a minute. My cock was now standing at attention. “Look at yourself, Tom. I talk to you about serving women and your masturbation fantasies, and your arousal betrays you. Accept that you are a sissy, Tom. Accept that your life will change forever and you that your place in life will be to serve your wife. Of course you will never again serve her with your penis, but we will be training you in other methods. Accept yourself, Tom, and then we can get on with getting you dressed for your day.”
I stood for a moment and I struggled to look Ms. Jensen in the eye. She smiled warmly and took my engorged penis in her hand. “It’s okay, Tom. Say it. Kelli has accepted it. Here at the Institute we know that there are men like you, not quite men, but not women either. We call people like you sissies, Tom. Say it. ‘I am a sissy.’ It will help you to say it,” and she gave me a quick stroke, then took her hand away.
“I am a sissy,” I said tentatively.
“Say it again with a little more enthusiasm, and then I will help you get dressed,” Ms. Jensen said with a smile.
“I am a sissy. I am a sissy. I am a sissy.” I felt so relieved.
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