Synopsis; Cath reminds Isabell of the first time she met Baby Pansy fourteen years ago, and Isabell recalls the erotic scene.
Chapter 38. Meet My Sissy Slave
“Stand up!” Cath sharply commanded. She used the slender leather reins to haul the crawling blonde girl to her feet. In her flat pink Maryjanes with the wafer-thin soles, the big baby barely looked five feet tall. I was certain she was wearing a thick disposable diaper under her exposed hot-pink PVC panties. Without seeing her face, I assumed she was a young teen, although her waist-length, showgirl-style, curly blonde hair looked curiously out of place on a teenager. ‘More suited to a movie-star in her twenties,’ I thought with a jealous twinge, unconsciously tossing back my bobbing halo of platinum curls like an envious little girl.
Cath snarled, “Stand up straight, you dirty, disgusting little bitch!” Even though her voice was low, the quiet fury in her tone made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The poor girl struggled upright because of the short hobble chain, and then Cath stepped behind her and removed the humiliating baby reins, tossing them in the hot-pink leather overnight bag she left lying open on the sunroom carpet.
Cath asked Mummy, “Well? What do think of my sissy slave, Isabell?” She left the toddler harness buckled in place and the girl’s mittened fists ineffectually plucked at the broad leather strap under her high proud bosom. The tiny blonde had slender arms and legs, although I couldn’t see her waistline because of the billowing mass of chiffon petties. But from the way the bustline of her shiny pink frock poked out above her harness at the front, I could tell she was quite well-developed for such a little girl. She was wearing a hot-pink leather dog collar too, decorated with a half-dozen sparkling diamante studs. There was a small brass padlock at the back, securing it in place. I glimpsed a shiny heart-shaped metal tag dangling from the front of her collar too, like a proper dog tag. I wondered if there was anything written on it?
I finally caught sight of the blonde girl’s heart-shaped baby face and she was very pretty - although I upgraded her age somewhere closer to thirty than twenty. She had long black lashes that fluttered girlishly, and her high arched eyebrows leant her beautiful face a permanent expression of innocent child-like wonder. Her delicate dark brown eyebrows looked so perfect, I wondered if they were tattooed on, like mine? Her make-up was gorgeous - except for the panda rings of mascara around her frightened wide blue eyes from where she must have been crying earlier. She had rosy round cheeks and puffy pink-painted, bee-stung lips, like my cousin Bonnie. It looked like she had just stopped sucking a big dummy - or something.
Mummy sank into an overstuffed yellow lounge chair nearest the dining room’s double sliding doors, right opposite our viewing spot. She stared in confusion at the beautiful girl in the juvenile pink satin dress standing in the centre of the sunroom, blind to everything else. When I looked into my mother’s hazy olive-green eyes, I could tell she was still somewhat affected by alcohol. “She’s very pretty,” Mummy replied in a subdued voice. At least she didn’t appear to be stumbling or slurring her words, but she looked greatly troubled. “But I don’t understand why you brought her over here?”
Cath ignored Mummy’s delicately-worded question and stalked around the cowering girl like a slave auctioneer examining suspect merchandise, and then she turned her victim to face her sister sitting in the chair. She reached out and irritably straightened the girl’s slithering satin frock over her bobbing chiffon petticoats, like a cranky mother handling a naughty two-year-old. Despite her tugging, most of the girl’s shiny plastic panty bottom remained on display. Cath cautioned her charge; “Don’t you dare move a muscle!” The beautiful brunette looked so tall with her high tight bun and her menacing platform boots, and the cringing girl in pink looked tiny by comparison - like a real toddler cowering beside her stern-faced mother. My domineering Aunty turned to Mummy and insisted, “So you don’t recognise my Baby Pansy, Isabell? Maybe this will jog your memory.”
The bound girl started in fear when Cath wrapped her arms around her waist from behind and yanked up the front of her dress and petticoats. Pansy was facing mostly away from me and I couldn’t see what Aunty Cath was doing underneath her skirts, but I heard some oddly-familiar popping sounds. A few seconds later my suspicions were confirmed when my cruel Aunt brutally tore down the girl’s hot-pink baby panties. They looked like my Barbie-pink PVC panties, except these wetproof pilchers had a row of snap fasteners up the front either side. When they puddled over the plastic-tube-encased ankle chain between the poor girl’s dainty pink Maryjanes, Cath raised the gathered front of her pink dress and petties again. Even from the rear I could see the puffy white disposable diaper drooping between the humiliated girl’s splayed thighs.
“Well?” My Aunt tersely demanded of Mummy, and she looked quite irritated when my mother shrugged her bare shoulders in her most non-committal manner. “Hold you dress and petties up over your tum-tums for Mummy, Baby Pansy,” Cath sharply ordered. I heard the familiar sounds of tapes being ripped away. A few seconds later a soggy white adult disposable diaper flopped wetly to the floor on top of the open pink plastic panties between the cringing girl’s ankles. There was a huge yellowed wet spot over the front and through the middle, and the bottom crease of the girl’s naked bum cheeks poked out below the back of her bobbing petties.
I couldn’t understand why Mummy gasped in shock and covered her gaping mouth with one hand. “No!” Mummy muttered in denial, her olive-green eyes wide as the blood drained from her painted face. “Oh no!” I needed to see what Mummy could see. I didn’t know why it felt so important to me, but it did. I jumped down and grabbed my milk crate, and waddled around the corner of the house to the second window which overlooked the formal dining room. I knew I could see through the doorway into the sunroom, virtually looking over my seated mother’s left shoulder. I placed my crate upside-down on the grass and climbed on top again, wobbling unsteadily in my haste. When I peeped through the window, I almost fell over backwards. I steadied myself by clutching the bottom of the window sill, and heard rather than saw Bonnie creep up beside me. When she peeked though the window, she too, gasped in astonishment.
The buxom blonde girl in the baby-pink satin dress was awkwardly clutching her frothy chiffon petties under her high proud breasts with her mittened fists. There was a massive erection jutting out from between her legs! Cath was standing close behind her charge, grinning down at my Mummy’s stunned expression. My Aunty was so tall, she had to lean down to rest her chin on top of the petite sissy’s bowed head, Her cowed sissy baby was completely hairless everywhere, and the smooth pink skin around her crotch was stained off-white with damp baby powder. Pansy’s stiff peenie was hard and red and swollen, although something looked terribly strange. (?) It took me a few seconds to realise there was no ball sack dangling underneath the proud upstanding shaft. I thought how much neater everything looked without that ugly wrinkled scrotum down below.
Mummy was shaking her head in what I could only assume must be disbelief. “That’s unbelievable! She looks like a beautiful young woman! But how…? How can she have an erection?” Mummy demanded in confusion, pointing at the juncture of the humiliated sissy’s bare little legs. “I mean, how can he have an erection, if he’s been castrated?” My mother suddenly sounded completely sober.
Cath bent down to the side and curled her head around the red-faced sissy’s tiny waist. She peered down between her bashful baby’s smooth splayed thighs as if she didn’t understand what her sister was talking about. “Oh! That?” She chortled dismissively. “You have to admit, it looks so much tidier down there without-”
“Yes, but how can she- he-?”
“Chemicals,” Cath explained with a wicked grin. She reached around her trembling sissy’s loins and grabbed hold of his swollen jutting tool. She possessively enveloped the throbbing shaft in her large fist and squeezed. The pretty boy-girl bit her puffy pink-painted bottom lip and shuddered delicately at the sensuous firm grip, her long black lashes fluttering girlishly. “Better living through chemicals.” My Aunt’s laugh was an odd cruel sound, without a trace of humour. “But we’re not here to discuss my sissy baby’s current lack of equipment. Rather; do you recognise what she has left?”
“I- I-” My mother stammered, and I saw her put a shaky hand over her luscious red-painted mouth. She turned her head away from the provocative sight, and I could see her heavily made-up face was wracked with guilt.
“It’s alright, Isy,” Cath soothed her sister. She slapped the purple head of the sissy’s swollen red peenie against his powdery tummy to regather Isabell’s attention. Pansy’s face was burning with shame, her high round cheeks fire-engine red, and she anxiously gnawed her plump pink bottom lip with her tiny top teeth. I bet she wished she had a dum-dums! I chewed contentedly on the rubber teat in my mouth, grateful for my comforting baby soother.
“You can tell me the truth,” Cath assured Isabell with a superior knowing smile. “I already know, anyway.” Mummy didn’t look at all reassured.
“I recognise it - her – him! I met her - him - once before, at- at your place,” Mummy finally conceded, her beautiful face a mask of anxiety.
“That’s right! Very good, Isabell!” Cath encouraged her with a wolfish smile. “And do you happen to remember when that was, exactly?” Mummy’s head jerked to the front again but she couldn’t hold her sister’s sly knowing gaze. Like any good courtroom lawyer, Aunty Cath already knew the answer to her question.
Mummy jumped to her feet and strode to the side of the sunroom overlooking the back yard, so she wouldn’t have to keep staring at the exposed genitals of the cringing sissy baby. Cath released Pansy’s stiff bobbing peenie and dropped her petties to cover her shameful tumescence, and the poor embarrassed sissy sighed with relief and clumsily tried to smooth her billowing satin skirts over her tenting front with her hot-pink mittens. My Aunt turned to confront her sister, who was nervously pacing the carpet a couple of metres behind the embarrassed boy-girl’s back. Both leather-clad women looked so tall and intimidating, especially when juxtaposed with the tiny trembling sissy in her frills and lace. It was just as well little Pansy kept his wide blue eyes glued on the carpet. The sissy might have caught sight of us spying on them through the window, otherwise. I could see from the expression on Mummy’s face that she was struggling with some inner demon. I didn’t realise what a flood of memories Cath’s probing questions had unleashed. “Yes, I remember,” Isabell faintly replied. “It was right after my honeymoon.”
When Isabell and Brett had returned from their honeymoon almost fourteen years ago, all was not well with the newlyweds. Despite her eagerness, they had only attempted to make love three times during the whole two weeks they were on vacation. ‘Attempted’ being the operative word. Isabell felt crushed with disappointment when her muscular, handsome young husband first brushed aside her willing advances on their wedding night. When she did finally manage to talk him into consummating their marriage, he had trouble getting it up! She had used her hands on him first, then her mouth, and she was gratified to feel him stiffen and grow rock-hard between her suctioning lips. But he had erupted prematurely, almost choking her with his volume of salty cum. Then all Brett wanted to do was go to sleep, leaving her wide-awake, frustrated, and unbelievably horny.
It took several days for Isabell to build up the courage to approach him in bed again. He didn’t seem particularly interested, even when she paraded around their seaside cabana in the nude for him, hoping to titillate his interest. She knew she had a good body, and regular gym attendance and games of tennis made sure she stayed fit, supple and slim. Her C-cup breasts were high and proud, her waistline tiny, and her legs were long, muscular and shapely, even without the sexy high heels she normally preferred. Even though Isabell privately thought her hips were a little wide and her round fleshy bottom was a shade too big, every male she had ever dated regularly assured her it looked perfect on her tall slender frame.
Brett kept watching some dumb movie on TV and didn’t even seem to notice her provocatively strolling around in the nude. She was so horny her nipples were like hard little pink pebbles, and she discretely tweaked them to make them poke out more temptingly. His eyes never left the flickering screen. When she stood nude in front of the television with her legs splayed daringly wide, he gruffly ordered her to move out of the way and stop blocking his view. Finally she gave up and threw herself naked into bed. She pretended to fall asleep quietly seething with rage. The second time they tried to make love she used her hand to get him hard, and he ejaculated all over her thigh before he even managed to penetrate her. On the final night of their honeymoon, the third attempt wasn’t much better. He’d been drinking and he crawled onto her back and sprayed semen all over her buttocks and into her bumcrack when he clumsily tried to mount her from the rear. When she dared comment on his unfortunate lack of control, he jumped out of bed in a fit of rage. He threw on his clothes and stalked out of their cabana beside the moonlit lagoon, and went and got stinking drunk.
They barely spoke to each other during the flight home. It didn’t help that the couple in the seats across the aisle from her were obviously returning from their island honeymoon, too. You could tell by their shiny gold matching wedding bands - plus the way they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Isabell felt consumed with jealousy when they started fooling around under the blankets a thoughtful smiling stewardess had provided. Brett was snoring beside her next to the window - he always took the window seat - and Isabell feigned sleep to give the amorous couple next door the sweet illusion of privacy. She let her eyelids drift open a fraction and peeped at the daring couple through slitted lids while they caressed each other under the writhing blankets. She didn’t know whether to feel affronted or just plain jealous when the pretty twenty-something brunette discretely slid across the armrest and onto her husband’s lap. Isabell noticed the daring young woman’s white miniskirt was bunched up around her hips, before she belatedly covered her naked furry brown crotch with the blanket.
It was a night flight and the cabin lights were dimmed so the passengers could sleep, but Isabell could easily see what the couple were doing. She snuggled deeper into her own blanket and the hand innocently resting between her silky-smooth thighs slid up to cup the moistening crotch of her snug white nylon panties. Isabell used one fingertip to rub between her sensitive swelling labia, surprised by the slick wet feel of her crotch. She pressed the damp material inwards until her fingertip gently scraped across the thickening bud of her aroused clitoris, and she massaged the sweet moist spot in tiny circling movements. The woman across the aisle began bouncing up and down slightly, and Isabell saw her grab the back of the seat in front of her with both hands for support.
Her husband gripped her hips and helped thrust her up and down, and the bouncing brunette threw back her head and bit her generous bottom lip, trying to silence her muted cries of passion. In a few minutes, it was all over, and the quietly panting woman collapsed back against her puffing husband with a huge satisfied grin. It took the new members of the ‘Mile-High Club’ a few moments to untangle themselves, and the flushed-faced young woman climbed off him and headed towards the toilets.
Isabell could see she discretely carried her balled-up panties in one fist. She pulled down the back of her white miniskirt over her pert bare bottom with her free hand in a belated attempt to cover her nakedness, slowly waddling down the narrow aisle like she’d just climbed off a bucking horse. When the sweaty-faced man turned to glance her way, Isabell snapped her eyes shut and froze. She removed her playful finger before anyone noticed her writhing in her seat. She didn’t sleep a wink for the rest of the journey, her moist vagina aching with the need to be filled.
By the time Brett collected their luggage and packed their suitcases in a taxi, she was desperate to race home and make love to her husband. Unfortunately, he had other plans, and he asked the cab driver to drop him at his construction office on the way home. He climbed out of the taxi in spite of her voluble protests, and Isabell was furious! She let him know it too, before he slammed the car door and marched away. She had to ask the smirking cab driver to carry their luggage inside their beautiful new house, and as soon as she had tipped him and closed the front door, Isabell ran upstairs. She strode into her bedroom, ripped off her sweaty clothes, and jumped under a hot shower.
Twenty minutes later the scalding stream had washed away most of her anger and resentment, but she was still feeling unbelievably horny. The tall buxom blonde tried to masturbate but although the familiar caresses brought her pleasure, ten minutes later she was still unable to cum. She growled in frustration, knowing all she really needed was a good hard cock to fill her completely. Isabell turned off the shower taps, grimacing in annoyance. As she dried every inch of her lithe young, five-foot nine-inch body, she decided to go and visit her big sister. She had the rest of the week off and they only lived a few blocks apart now - thanks to Cath’s generous wedding gift of a fifty-percent deposit on their beautiful new home - although her pushy sister had insisted the deed for the house had to be in Isabell’s name only. Isy sighed. ‘Divorce made people go funny for a while,’ she mused in sympathy for her recently-separated big sister. Cath had only been married for five years, and it looked like it was all over. It was a pity, but she’d hardly gotten to know her millionaire brother-in-law, Peter. Isabell had only met the short, skinny, baby-faced lawyer three or four times, including on Cath’s wedding day.
Today was Wednesday, the day her rich older sister usually parked her two toddler girls at the day-care centre and played tennis at the country club. April was four and Bonnie was just out of nappies at the age of two. Isabell thought that two was a bit young to be left in the care of strangers - even expensive trained carers like those at the snooty country club. Isabell could hardly wait to have children of her own and raise them her way. She frowned and sighed bitterly in despair. Of course, she needed to successfully have intercourse with her husband first, and who knew how long that might take? When Isy snapped her gilt watch onto her wrist and checked the time, it was only nine a.m. She realised she had time to meet Cath at her place, and then they could drive to the club together. A vigorous game of tennis was just what she needed to burn off this excess energy and frustration. Plus, she needed to debrief to a sympathetic ear, and unload all the sordid details of her disappointing honeymoon.
She clipped on her white cotton sports bra and tugged on a pair of high waisted, full-cut cotton panties. Isabell tossed on her favourite tennis outfit, consisting of a snug baby-pink collared polo shirt that was tight across her firm, high, C-cup breasts, and a brief white skirt that showed of a hint of her curvaceous round bottom cheeks every time she slightly bent over on the court. She grinned at her own cheekiness as she tied her white sneakers in place over her short pink sports socks, glancing over her shoulder at the fabulous view of her panty bottom she could see reflected in the mirror. She knew her long honey-blonde hair, cute face and sexy figure attracted lots of attention every time she walked onto the courts, especially when accompanied by her beautiful buxom, brunette big sister.
Isy didn’t mind giving the male members a little free show of her lush ripe, twenty-two-year-old body. She wanted to feel desirable today, and the way men looked at her while she was wearing this outfit usually provided that much-needed rush. She grabbed her racquet and handbag and slipped out the front door, and jumped into her sporty little red Fiat. Five minutes later she arrived at her sister’s place, and she parked on the kerb to leave the driveway clear. Her watch showed ten past nine when she turned the handle and threw open the front door to her sister’s huge house, without bothering to knock first. “Hey sis!” she yelled on entering. “I’m back!” Isabell would never forget the sight that greeted her eyes.
There was a petite blonde woman dressed in an elaborate black satin maid’s outfit, teetering on some impossibly-high, black patent stiletto-heeled court shoes, in the hallway leading to the garage. Her short dress flared out crazily around her silken upper thighs because of the fluffy white petticoats underneath. The maid turned away from the tall wooden bookcase lining one side of the shorter hallway, and shrieked in alarm when she spotted Isabell. She tried to run past Isy into the main hallway leading inside the house, dancing on the tips of her slippery leather soles. She was forced to take tiny steps because there was a restrictive steel chain binding her slender ankles. Isabell could see the slim, eight-inch hobble-chain was securely locked in place with two tiny brass padlocks. There was a narrow black patent leather collar around the girl’s throat, too. It looked like a fancy dog collar, locked in place at the nape of her neck with a matching brass padlock.
The girl had shoulder-length tawny-blonde hair capped off by a black mob cap with pretty white lace frills all around, matching her sheer lace-edged white pinafore apron. Her shiny satin dress was short enough that it showed off the bottoms of her fluffy petticoats and her fancy ruffled black garters, where they were clipped to the lace-edged tops of her sheer black silk stockings. The maid wore a ton of make-up, including some enormous false eyelashes, which fluttered like black moths around her frightened blue eyes. She looked like a fancily dressed maid from an old-fashioned musical theatre show, including her wide-eyed open-mouthed look of horror. She clumsily backed down the hallway away from Isabell, who instinctively followed her.
“No, no,” the girl moaned in a breathless high-pitched whimper, batting her long false eyelashes furiously in distress. “You can’t be here! You shouldn’t be here! I was supposed to lock the front door after Mum- after Mistress left. The door should have been locked! Mistress will kill me!” she moaned in fright, tottering backwards on her pencil-thin heels.
“Who are you?” Isabell demanded sharply to cover her surprise. “What are you doing in my sister’s house?”
“I- I- I’m the maid,” the terrified girl stuttered, as she backed towards the sunroom at the far end of the hallway. ‘You can’t be here! Please, you have to go!” she earnestly begged the intruder, her flushed painted cheeks glowing like stirred coals in the fireplace.
“Oh really?” Isabell snorted, sounding like she didn’t believe a word of it. “The maid, huh? With that chain around your ankles and that collar locked around your neck? I don’t think so!” The frightened petite woman tried to cover the front of her tell-tale slave collar with one tiny hand as she blindly backed towards the low wide oak coffee table in front of the cream leather lounge. “Where is my sister?” Isabell demanded, “Why isn’t she here?”
“Tennis,” the terrified girl snivelled, looking like she was about to burst into tears. “She plays tennis every Wednesday morning between nine-thirty and twelve noon. Oh please go. You must go!”
Isabell ignored the girl’s pathetic pleading. “It’s barely ten past nine now. Where is she?”
The cowering maid looked confused as well as frightened as she stumbled another pace backwards. “No, no, it’s almost eleven-thirty!” she timidly protested, as if terrified of contradicting a superior. “Mistress is at tennis. Oh please? Mummy mustn’t find out you were here.”
Isabell consulted her wristwatch, only then remembering she had forgotten to reset the time when their plane landed this morning. The time was two hours later than indicated by her fake gold, imitation Pierre Cardin watch. ‘Damn!’ she thought in annoyance, but she tried to cover her mistake by maintaining the offensive. “You’re one of those kinky people Cath told me about. Aren’t you? The ones that go to those ‘Bondage and Discipline’ parties my sister used to go to with her ex,” Isabell accused the sexily dressed young woman, poking the cringing girl in the chest and driving her another hobbled step backwards. Isabell saw there was a row of diamante letters decorating the front of the girl’s collar, and she rudely smacked the girl’s protective hand out of the way. Isabell’s sensuous top lip curled in a disdainful sneer when she read the revealing word, ‘slave’. “You like to be tied up and smacked around, and told what to do. Don’t you, slave?”
The accused’s bright blue eyes widened in fear, and her mouth silently gulped open and closed like a stunned goldfish. Tears of guilt and shame brimmed in her rapidly-blinking blue eyes, which desperately darted everywhere around the room as if seeking some avenue of escape. When the slave-maid’s slender stockinged calves struck the solid edge of the coffee table, she stumbled backwards onto her bottom. The red-faced girl screamed in alarm as she collapsed onto her back, her chained ankles flying high into the air. The veins in her slender neck visibly throbbed, pulsating with fear against her snug black leather collar. The narrow white lace-trimmed hem of her short black satin dress and her bunched chiffon petticoats flew up over her tummy to reveal her unusual underwear.
Apart from a lacy black suspender belt, Isabell had been astonished to find a huge pair of pink plastic baby panties under the shiny black dress and frothy petticoats, with a row of snap fasteners down the front at each side. The girl’s stiletto-heeled court shoes dropped to the carpeted floor, accompanied by a noisy metallic rattle of chain. Isabell leaned down and grabbed the tight elasticised waistband of her baby pants to tug the cowering girl to her feet, but instead the snaps unfastened, popping open to reveal a tenting white adult diaper underneath. The tall blonde gasped in astonishment. “Oh my God! You’re wearing a diaper! And it’s wet, too!” Isabell was more than a little confused by the phallic projection bulging out the yellowed front of the embarrassed girl’s obviously wet diaper, and she impulsively reached down and grabbed hold of the odd protrusion. Her olive-green eyes widened in shock when she realised she was grasping a long hard penis through the damp puffy disposable.
“You’re not a girl! You’re a man!” Isabell squealed in surprise. When the supine maid nodded apprehensively, Isy reached up and roughly ripped open the well-used diaper. Her eyes were like saucers when she spotted the proud swollen penis jutting up from the sissy maid’s glistening hairless crotch. It was at least an inch or two longer than her husband’s barely-adequate specimen, and the girth! It was almost twice as thick, and Isabell couldn’t stop herself wrapping her fingers around the throbbing hot prize in estimation. Her tip of her thumb and her longest finger barely met around the sissy-slave’s manly girth, and she marvelled at the comparison with her husband’s slender inadequate tool. The swollen crimson head was warm and spongy to the touch, and a drop of clear pre-cum leaked out of the single eye indicated he was ready for action.
Isabell’s moist pussy spasmed at the sight of this proud male projection, and her feelings of frustration and anger came boiling to a head. “It’s not fair,” she muttered resentfully to herself. “Cath’s newly single and she has this to play with; yet I’m newly married and I can’t even…” The words died in her throat as a wicked thought popped into her head. She squeezed the rock-solid erection until the little sissy moaned helplessly in arousal, and her voice became teasing when she demanded, “You won’t ever mention I was here to my sister, will you?”
“No, no,” the confused sissy gasped in terror, her tiny hands flopping backwards onto the coffee table in passive acceptance of her plight. “Mum- Mistress Cath - she can’t ever know!” The frightened boy-girl watched with wide blue eyes as the beautiful tall blonde straddled her hips, placing her bare kneels wide apart on the broad oak coffee table.
Isabell reached under her short white tennis skirt and deftly pulled aside the crotch of her snug cotton panties. “Then you probably won’t tell her that I did… this! Ahh!” In one fluid motion, she eased the pulsating crimson crown of the sissy’s swollen fleshy staff deep inside the velvety warmth of her sopping-wet pussy. She couldn’t believe how aroused she was, how ready and open, and the slick wet walls of her creamy vagina splayed wide to accept his magnificent girth. The huge hard cock filled her as never before, and she couldn’t restrain her shuddering cries of ecstasy as she slowly sank down till she had swallowed him whole. Her wide-stretched pussy lips moistly kissed the sissy-boy’s smooth hairless belly as Isabell accepted him to the hilt. She was thrilled to hear his feminine cries of passion as she impaled herself on the only visible sign of his masculinity.
When Isabell gazed down at the supine sissy, the contrast between what she could see and what she could feel inside her was unbelievable! She was looking down at the pretty painted face of a frightened young woman, who had her skirts and petties rudely shoved up over her small bosoms like a common slut, while a huge male cock pumped in and out of her rider’s slippery tunnel of love. “Oh God,” Isy moaned in excitement. “I can’t believe it! You’re so pretty! Ohhh! You look like a real girl!” When she told him how pretty he looked, his huge cock swelled even more, stretching the clinging muscles of her slippery vagina erotically wide. “Oh God! But your cock is so big and hard! Oohh!” He groaned in passion too, and thrust his rampant erection harder and deeper inside her. Isy knew she was close to climaxing.
“Yes baby, yes!” Isabell loudly encouraged the bound sissy slave. “Fuck me, you pretty girl! Fuck me, you gorgeous little sissy! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck meeee!” She screamed with unbridled joy as the huge pounding cock slamming against her cervix her pushed her over the edge. Isy grabbed his breasts with her clawed fingers and she could feel his soft latex falsies shifting inside his bra as she gasped and shuddered to an unbelievable climax. Her vaginal walls clamped down on him like a velvet fist wrapped in slick wet satin, squeezing him remorselessly. She could hear the sissy underneath her whimpering and moaning with excitement too, and the bouncing boy-girl suddenly grabbed Isabell’s wide womanly hips and held on tight.
He thrust himself as deep inside her as possible and squealed in his high girlish voice, “Mama! Mama! I’m just a baby girl! I wanna be a baby girl forever!” But Isabell was too intent on coming down from her own tumultuous orgasm, her eardrums pounding with the sound of her own racing heart. She barely heard a word the sissy boy babbled. “Ga-ga goo-goo!” he mumbled, and he moaned in relief when he violently climaxed inside her, squealing, “Ga-ga! Ga-ga! Ga-ga-goo!” Isabell enjoyed the pulsating spasms of his thick swollen tool as he helplessly unloaded his balls all over her pouching cervix. By the time she regained her sight and hearing, the babbling sissy had fallen silent.
She remained on top of him for a few more minutes, her splayed knees resting on the hard oak coffee table, until they both stopped shaking and she had regained control of her breathing. Isabell let his shrivelling member slide out of her slick wet tunnel and she slid the sweat-dampened crotch of her cotton panties back into place, rearranging the absorbent cotton gusset to catch any dribbles which might accidentally leak out. She climbed off the aghast sissy slave, who began to weep in abject remorse. “Oh shut up, you big baby!” she snapped at him, while she stood and straightened her tennis skirt. She was delighted when his tearful cries instantly sniffled to a stop. If only she could control her errant husband like that!
“I guess I don’t need to see my sister after all,” Isy decided aloud, and she smiled wolfishly at the tearful sissy’s grateful expression as she backed towards the hallway leading to the front door. “Now don’t forget - you won’t mention to your Mistress - or was it your Mummy? - that I was here. Will you, slave?” She could see him sitting up on his squishy wet diaper and shaking his curly blonde locks in horrified denial as she walked backwards down the hallway. “You better change that wet diaper though, sissy. You smell like an unwashed toilet.” She giggled at his feminine embarrassed blushes. “Now remember; I won’t tell if you won’t!” she instructed the sissy-slave in a cheeky sing-song tone, before departing with a cheery wave. “Bye-bye, baby girl!” With a satisfied chortle and a wiggle of her hips, she let herself out the front door and safely locked it behind her.
Isabell thought no one would ever know of her brief marital indiscretion. But now, almost fourteen years later, the truth was coming back to haunt her. She took a deep breath and sighed with remorse, then confessed; “I drove over to your place, Cath, on the morning I returned from my honeymoon, and I found this… sissy there, dressed in a black maid’s outfit.” Isy shuffled over to the lounge and flopped backwards onto the overstuffed cushions, her booted thighs splayed wide, -not caring that she was exposing the crotch of her tight black satin panties. Her tiny black leather skirt crept up high around her wide womanly hips. Her sister took a short pink riding crop from the overnight bag, and gave the pink leather-tipped end a few trial cuts through the air. I winced at the menacing swishing sound, but Mummy didn’t even glance up.
“That’s right, Isabell,” Cath crooned in syrupy approval. “I figured that was when it happened - even though this silly baby couldn’t remember the exact date.” She stepped to one side of the cringing sissy and swept the pink crop in an upward blow under his frock and petties, expertly cutting him across both plump botty cheeks. WHICK!
“Ow!” the little fairy cried in pain, and her mittened hands leapt back to cover her poor bottom while she did an awkward little skip forward due to her restrictive short hobble chain. That made Mummy look up.
Cath snarled, “Keep still Baby Pansy! Get your silly hands away from your bottom! That’s better…” WHICK!
“Oww! Oh no, Mummy, please?” WHICK! “Ow!” WHICK! “Mummy nooo!”
Cath brutally cut off his whimpered pleas for mercy. “I told you what would happen if you spoke without being spoken to first. Didn’t I?” When he didn’t instantly respond, she grabbed him by one ear and savagely shook his head, making his long blonde ringlets dance. I noticed the whimpering girl had glittering diamond stud earrings just like mine. “Didn’t I, baby girl?” she demanded even louder.
“Yes Mummy! I’m sorry Mummy! It won’t happen aga-”
“I’ll say it won’t happen again,” Cath rudely interrupted his snivelling apology.
She grabbed one of his mittened hands and pressed it against the sissy’s bulging breasts. Aunty Cath attached the white leather wrist-cuff to the metal D-ring on one side of the wide chest strap of her sissy baby’s leather toddler harness with a small metal clip. I noticed his hot-pink harness had the words ‘Baby Pansy’ emblazoned across the front in sparkling diamantes, like Bonnie’s white toddler harness. The wrist-cuff on the other mitten was swiftly restrained to the matching chromed D-ring in the same manner, and Cath gave his wriggling arms a shake to make sure they were safely secured. “We know how to keep bad little girls like you quiet, don’t we?” Cath malevolently insisted. She rummaged in the hot-pink overnight bag once more, and came up with a strange pale-pink baby bonnet. “I said don’t we, Baby Pansy?”
“Yes Mummy- Umph!”
“Time for the bad baby bonnet,” Cath sang with a wicked smile. The close-fitting cap she slipped over the sissy-boy’s curly blonde locks was made of thin baby-pink leather, like my baby mittens, with two narrow straps dangling down either side that buckled together under the chin. Like my humiliating satin baby bonnet, hers also had a wide frill of stiff white lace sewn across the front of the brim and down the sides, restricting her vision in all directions except down. There was another wide pink leather strap across the front too, which covered the sissy’s mouth. It had some strange black bulbs poking out of it, front and back. Cath swiftly fed the soft inner rubber bulb into her sissy’s open mouth first, and I heard him desperately sucking on it like an oversized baby pacifier. Once the bonnet was tightly buckled in place under his chin, that dummy wasn’t coming out. Not only that, Cath grabbed the other bulb hanging down from the mouthpiece by a short black rubber tube and gave it a few firm squeezes.
“Make your baby sounds,” the heartless brunette tersely ordered her bound sissy slave. I heard him trying to mumble “Goo-goo-goo-goo.” With each squeeze of the bulb, the black rubber dummy in his mouth inflated even more. The anxious sissy’s infantile babbling became quieter and less intelligible, until you couldn’t hear a peep from the gagged big baby. Her shackled mittens began to flail about her bosom in fear, and only then did my grinning Aunty stop pumping. Cath then unscrewed the short black tube connecting the pump bulb to the pink leather mouthpiece, leaving her bound sissy baby with no way of deflating the efficient dummy-gag. Cath tossed the gag pump in the overnight bag and turned back to her trapped silenced sissy baby with a victorious smile. “There,” she muttered in heartless satisfaction. “Little girls should be seen and not heard. Right, Isabelle? Right?” she repeated, demanding a response from her stunned sister.
“Yes, I guess so,” Mummy faintly replied. Her sister stepped over to the couch and leaned down close to Mummy, resting one hand on the wide yellow arm of the chair.
“What was my sissy baby wearing again, when you walked in on her that day?” Cath innocently asked, like she needed to be reminded.
“A black satin maid’s dress with petticoats underneath, and a sheer white pinafore apron,” Mummy dully responded, although I could barely hear her voice.
“Oh good, you do remember. Then you’ll probably remember what you did next,” Cath prompted her with an evil leer.
“We- we- we had sex,” Mummy haltingly confessed, all the colour draining from her face. I reeled back in surprise, tightly clutching the window sill to maintain my balance. Mummy looked and sounded so ashamed of herself, my heart went out to her. I felt Bonnie stumble beside me and I turned to look at her in concern. I couldn’t understand why my buxom pigtailed cousin clutched the window sill for support with both hands, her bent knees trembling, her pretty face pale and anguished. Why would the thought of my mother having sex with this sissy baby upset her so much? But Bonnie wouldn’t look at me and a few seconds later she cautiously raised her head to peep through the window once more.
I turned back to the bizarre scene inside the house when Cath threw back her head and laughed uproariously at Mummy’s candid admission. The strange harsh sound cut off as abruptly as it started, and her crimson top lip curled in a disdainful sneer. “Oh no, sis. You didn’t just ‘have sex’ with my sissy slave. You fucked her! Didn’t you?” She backed away and paced between Mummy and the cowering gagged sissy as she clarified, “After all, when I went to tennis at the country club that Wednesday morning as usual, I locked my collared sissy slave in a hobble chain to do her domestic chores - as usual. She certainly couldn’t have chased you! But then, she certainly couldn’t have run away, either. Right?” Mummy nodded pensively again, her pretty face wracked with guilt.
Cath glared down at her crestfallen younger sister, but her tone was restrained when she asked, “What else was Pansy wearing under her skirt, Isabell? Can you tell me that?”
“Pink plastic panties,” Mummy responded, looking even more ashamed.
“And…?” Cath prompted.
“And a diaper,” Mummy finished with a sigh of regret.
“Was it a wet diaper?” Cath inquired in a polite interested tone, and Mummy sheepishly nodded. My domineering brunette Aunty clucked her tongue in reproval and shook her head in disappointment as she paced backwards and forwards along the length of the sunroom.
“So you pulled down my sissy slave’s baby panties and her wet diaper, and you fucked her,” Cath flatly stated, like she was coldly laying out the facts for a jury. My mother nodded in stoop-shouldered misery and Cath paused in front of her. “I want to hear you say it, Isabell,” Aunty Cath ruthlessly insisted, and Mummy’s blushing red face dropped in shame.
“Alright, Cath. I fucked him. Alright?” She raised her gaze to stare up defiantly at her bossy big sister, her olive-green eyes glistening with unshed tears. Bright red spots of anger appeared on her pale cheeks. “I fucked your sissy slave until he came. We both had an orgasm and we both enjoyed it,” Mummy added a tad spitefully. “Is that want you wanted to hear?”
I was astonished by my Aunty Cath’s peculiar satisfied grin. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear you say, sis.” Her victory laugh was strangely brittle, and I understood why when she quietly added, “You just didn’t know he was my husband!”
“What!! What did you say?” Mummy shrieked, jumping to her feet in alarm. She wobbled unsteadily on her towering black platform boots and she looked like she was going to pass out.
“You heard me,” Cath scoffed. “You had sex with my husband. Well, my ex-husband. This sissy Baby Pansy is really my ex-husband, Peter.”
Mummy pointed at the cringing sissy baby in disdain. “That thing is your husband? No! Impossible! She looks far too young, and those tits-”
“It’s amazing what a limitless bank account and some good plastic surgeons can achieve over a few years. Remember all those month-long trips the girls and I took to Thailand, about ten or twelve years ago?” Cath laughed harshly again. “No, Isy. I’m afraid this pretty sissy baby is my ex-husband. And you had sex with her.”
“Oh no! No Cath, no! No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” Mummy babbled in fruitless denial, and she fell back in her seat with her eyes squeezed shut and defensively covered her ears as though she could block out the shameful truth. I heard a low moan from beside me and when I glanced her way, I noticed Bonnie had her eyes tightly scrunched closed, too. Confused, I turned back to watch my mother’s reaction to this startling news. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” Mummy kept repeating.
Cath leaned forward and plucked Isabell’s palms from the sides of her head with a wry forgiving smile. “It’s okay, Isy. You didn’t know. My naughty sissy baby should have told you her name. But she was too ashamed to admit the truth to my kid sister.” She patted Mummy’s drooping shoulder reassuringly. “I’m sure if my Baby Pansy had told you her real name, you wouldn’t have touched her with a ten-foot barge pole.”
“That’s right, Cath,” Mummy gasped, willing to clutch at any straw her big sister cared to offer.
“But she didn’t tell you, did she? And it was all her fault the front door was open in the first place. If my sissy-slave had locked the door behind me like she was supposed to - like I’d ordered her to - you wouldn’t have been led into temptation.”
“Yes Cath, that’s all true. It was all her fault,” Mummy gratefully agreed, the words tumbling in a rush from her quivering red lips.
“Which is why I need your help punishing my naughty sissy baby. Okay?”
“What? I- I- I-” Mummy mumbled uncertainly.
Cath grabbed her sister’s hands and dragged her back to her feet, where she wobbled unsteadily on her towering black stiletto heels. “I need a drink first,” Mummy blurted, and she headed for the kitchen.
“Good idea, sis. Make me one too, will you? Scotch and coke with ice, and make it a strong one,” Cath insisted.
“Okay Cath,” Mummy distantly replied, and from the kitchen I could hear the sound of ice cubes being poured into glasses. I knew she was intrigued when she called out, “When did you find out your husband was into… well, you know?”
Cath laughed scathingly before she asked in turn, “What? That my husband was a big sissy baby who liked to be treated like a naughty, pants-wetting little girl?”
There was a few moment’s silence before Mummy cautiously replied, “Well, yes.”
“Oh, he was dressed like this the first time I met him,” Cath blithely responded, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
“What?” I heard Mummy cry in amazement. An ice-cube shattered noisily on the hard kitchen floor. “Oh shit!”
“That’s your father?” I asked my cousin in an amazed whisper. Bonnie slowly nodded, a mixture of shame and confusion clouding her pale painted face.
Cath opened the pink overnight bag and took out a fresh white disposable diaper, and she walked around the lounge where Mummy had first been sitting and into the formal dining room. I almost fell off my milk crate trying to duck out of sight. When I glanced at Bonnie crouching down beside me, her tinted cheeks were drained of colour. We could still hear every word her mother was saying. “Yes I met him at a fetish party - the first ‘B&D’ party I ever attended, when I was eighteen. I told you a bit about it when I got home later that night,” Cath loudly reminded her sister. “We were still sleeping in the same bedroom at mum’s place back then, remember?” Mummy made no reply as she struggled to recall that night over twenty years ago.
To be continued in chapter 39.
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Baby Jennie
