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SHARING THEIR SISSIES by Throne
🕑 Added 2021-07-15 05:05:02 +0000 UTCSHARING THEIR SISSIES
by Throne
The developing situation seemed unreal. It was like some weird sex fantasy you might find posted on a free, adult story site.
""Hurry up, now, Marcie. Your new sissy friend will be arriving soon."
"Yes, Ms. Carmen."
The short man, Mark, rushed around with a dust rag, wiping the edges of various pieces of furniture. He had on a sleeveless undershirt and bikini-style panties, both in black, along with black stockings and black-and-white Mary Janes, plus a tiny lace headpiece and mini-apron in white. Plainly, his outfit was a cruel mockery of what a maid might wear. This was ironic because Carmen, the swarthy, dark-eyed girl, had once been his maid. That was before she discovered his love of private chastity games, snatched the keys to his cock-lock while he was wearing it, and gradually reduced him to her slave and plaything. Now she owned his palatial home and all his former assets. She had a voluptuous figure and enjoyed dressing provocatively, because it drove him to distraction. At the moment, her full curves were shown off by a clinging, red, short-sleeved top, with no bra underneath, and tan slacks that looked like they'd been painted on. She strutted around in shiny crimson, knee-boots, with stiletto heels.
Carmen smirked at his silly efforts to keep her happy. They had become second nature to him by now. Therefore, it was time to take him to new depths of humiliation, which was why had she arranged for this meeting. The woman she met online, Angie, had a wealthy weakling whose life she had taken over, turning him into a similarly abject pansy. He was short like Mark, and also due to be taken deeper into his emasculated life. His name used to be Steven, but she had renamed him Sable.
Mark finished his work, stored his cleaning supplies in the utility room, and washed up. He had just applied cream to his hands and thoroughly rubbed it in, releasing its flowery scent, when the doorbell rang. For a few seconds he froze. Then, remembering what was expected of him, he went reluctantly toward the front door. His steps were short, placing one foot in front of the other, as he held his arms out slightly to the sides, with his wrists very limp. The way Carmen made him move was endlessly mortifying. At the front door he paused and tried to steel himself against what was to come, but there was no steel in him. No metal or mettle. He opened the door and was confronted by Angie, a dark-haired stunner with generous contours, carrying a capacious shoulder bag. As she glided past him, in eye-catching, tall, gold boots, he saw who she had brought with her. There stood Steven, in an oversized trench coat that made him look like a boy in an adult's outerwear. On his head was a crumpled fisherman's hat, with a brim all around. He followed the woman, taking dainty steps like Mark's.
"Hello, Angie," greeted Carmen. "So nice to finally meet you in person."
"Likewise," said the new arrival. "And to see your cute little sissy."
"Marcie," the homeowner said with authority, "how do you greet my guest?"
He blushed, took an imaginary hem between thumbs and forefingers, and executed a deep curtsey.
Angie only had to say, "Sable," and her submissive did the same. She added, "Please get out of that ridiculous hat and coat, dear. I know you want our host to see your lovely fashion choices."
Steven cringed, but then removed the hat and got out of the oversized coat. He stood there in a cropped camisole top with lace details, and a thong, both in bright pink. His slender legs were encased in matching fishnet stockings. He pulled ballet slippers from the copious pockets of the coat and slipped them onto his feet. Carmen told Mark to take the hat and coat, and put him in the hall closet. When that was done, the others had moved into the den. He went there and found the women seated on the sofa, Angie with her big shoulder bag between her feet, while Steven stood in the middle of the room. Carmen ordered Mark to stand alongside him. The feminized men got a better look at each other. Both of them were smooth all over, with no body hair to be seen. They had on no make-up, but their equally whiskerless faces were softened by continual use of emollients and other products. Their hair was only collar-length, but had been styled and treated to give it shape and extra fullness. When they checked each other's panties, they saw the telltale bumps of chastity devices.
The women chatted for a while. They discussed how controlled their wimps were, and exchanged a few specifics about their modified behavior. Carmen sent Mark to fetch sodas, and Angie told Steven to go along and help out. The shamefaced pair minced out of the room. They appeared eager to speak to each other, but had been ordered beforehand to remain silent. The women were under no such stricture. They kept their voices down, however, because they wanted what was coming to be a surprise.
"So," said Carmen, "are we still agreed? You want to make the two of them get all kissy-face together?"
"Definitely. Like we discussed on the phone, it's time for them to cross that line."
"No limits?"
"Only so we can save the heavier stuff for later. But I want today to be like a shock treatment. Afterwards, if we keep getting them together, the way we discussed, we can start over, with just a bit of touching. Then we'll work back up to the dirty stuff. But I figure if we take them fairly far right away, they'll worry about returning there, the rest of the time."
"Perfect. Shatter their remaining illusions of masculinity today, and then let them convince themselves it won't happen again, even though we're taking them in the same direction."
"We can drag the next cycle out for months. Watch them squirm every time we move them one step closer to full-on sissy-to-sissy engagement."
The panty-wearers were returning, so the women fell silent. In they came, Mark with two freshly filled glasses of ginger ale, on a tray, and Steven with paper napkins. The former took a soda to Angie, while the latter set a napkin on the coffee table in front of her. Once the glass was put down, the same was done for Carmen. Then Mark returned the tray to the kitchen and reappeared, to stand next to his sissy sister, on display again to the females.
"Well," decided Carmen, "it's time to start getting you two acquainted with each other. I think a nice way to do that would be..." She glanced conspiratorially at Angie. "... to have you show each other your cock-locks. Don't you think so, girls?"
In tiny voices, the helpless guys agreed, though their troubled expressions made it plain that they didn't want to. Angie had them turn toward each other.
She told them, "Panties down to mid-thighs."
Wracked with shame, they did as they were ordered. What they revealed were very small, pink, plastic chastity containers. These were so short that they couldn't be called tubes. A better word would be cups, or mini-cups, as they reduced each penis to a mere nublet. The guys each pressed his thighs together. Their hands twitched, with the forbidden desire to cover their crotches. They even curled their toes in embarrassment. The women were amused and made no effort to disguise it.
"Keep those panties where they are," Carmen said with calm authority.
"And you need to watch your attitudes," Angie warned. "Don't think we can't see how eager you are to disobey. It's written all over your faces, and telegraphed by your body language."
The sissies knew how simple it would be for the domineering females to make an excuse to punish them. They had both found that out individually. Now it was even worse, as they would have witnesses to any discipline they received. The thought of someone else's owner, which was how they thought of the women, seeing them suffer, was awful. Having a fellow victim of emasculation be there when it happened was, in some twisted way, even more terrible.
"You two are so twitchy," Carmen declared with a strong note of disapproval.
"We need to make you more comfortable around each other. Let's start with some... hugging."
The guys shuddered. They had never had to touch another male since their transformations began. It was unthinkable, particularly in their current state of semi-undress. Even so, as if in a trance, they opened their arms and stepped forward. After only a moment of hesitation, they embraced, managing to at least keep an inch or two between them.
Carmen spotted their avoidance of full contact and advised, "I don't want to see daylight between you fairies."
Angie amplified, "So let's make those tummies touch. And get your chins on each other's shoulders."
Their soft midsections came into contract and, inevitably, those chastity devices bumped together. Bared thighs touched. Hairless chests, minimally covered, met. Chins were put into position, which brought together the sides of beardless faces. Ear brushed against ear. The embracers quivered together. Rather than allow them to part, the women left the twosome where they were, while they resumed conversing. While the seated females shared gossipy opinions about a reality show they both liked (ACTUAL HOMEWIVES OF GOTHAM CITY, if you must know), the standing guys were left, caught in that unwanted extended hug, feeling the warmth of each other's bodies. As the temperature increased, it released the aromas of the fancy soaps, skin care products, and shampoos that they had no choice but to use. They began to feel sympathy for one another, because of their shared ordeal.
After a half hour, Carmen finally said, "So, why don't we make the two of them look more like they act, with some cosmetics."
"That sounds delightful," said Angie, taking her large bag from between her booted feet and setting it on the seat cushion next to her.
The bag had several decorative straps and a leather zipper-pull that was fringed on the end. Unfastening its decorative gold clasp, she opened the flap and reached inside. From the bulging sack she produced a variety of cosmetics and lined them up on the low table. Carmen had the men raise their panties and one kneel at each end of the piece of furniture, in easy reach, but with Steven by her and Mark alongside her new friend. The men were instantly uneasy to have someone unfamiliar working on their faces. They were accustomed to light touches of color, but judging from what was displayed in front of the women, this was going to go a lot further.
"Let's make their eyes really stand out," Angie suggested.
"And give their mouths a fuller look," Carmen offered. She bumped the toe of her boot against Steven's chastity, through his thin panties.
Angie rubbed her leather-sheathed shin on the inside of Mark's thigh. "They're going to be so sexy."
"And," concluded Carmen, "it should make them more seductive to each other."
That last comment gave the guys pause. How far was this going to go, in the area of physical intimacy? That hug was still fresh in their minds. The women got busy with their face paint. They generously used it to create dramatic eyes, pink cheeks, and mouths that seemed to be in permanent pouts. When Angie pulled a mirror from her bag and let them see themselves, each one gasped in turn. They couldn't believe the heavily made up, rather drag-queenly images that were reflected. Then they were instructed to each study the other's appearance. What they saw left them rattled.
"Now," Carmen said in a suggestive whisper, "give each other a sweet chaste kiss. Go on."
"Do it, girls," Angie encouraged.
Trembling with anxiety, they nevertheless pressed their lips together, ever so lightly. The watchers snickered, loud enough for the guys to hear. They coaxed them to put more effort into it. The second kiss had added force behind it, and caused a proportionate increase in discomfort. But when the women told them to share an open-mouthed one, the guys couldn't make themselves do it. This was all too new and unfamiliar. It went against the image of themselves they were still clinging to, as being ultimately straight. Carmen and Angie got to their feet, with angry expressions on their pretty faces. They strode to the sissies and pulled them away from one another. There were two wooden chairs, one at each end of the room. They pulled them out, facing each other, almost to where their victims had been standing. Then they dropped onto the seats, each grabbing one of the panty-wearers by his wrist, and dragged them over their full thighs. Carmen had Steven, while Angie had Mark, the same partner switch as when they had made up their faces. Down came the panties again. Those bottoms were pale and unmuscular, inviting spankings. The guys mewled and murmured, unable to keep quiet.
"You asked for this, Sable," said Carmen.
"This is what you get for not cooperating, Marcie," seconded Angie.
Suddenly, a double spanking was in progress. The recipients wailed and kicked. They gripped the legs of the chairs. Their cries were piteous but the women grinned. Carmen licked her lips. Angie cackled. Those white ovals were turned pink and then red. Tears flowed and noses ran. Not until the guys were blubbering wrecks did the spankers relent. They allowed them to stand, with their panties still at half-mast.
"Now," Angie told them, "stand back-to-back. Good. And bend forward enough that your butts are pressed together. I want you to feel the heat from each other's cheeks."
"Right," agreed Carmen. "This is what they call a teachable moment. You wimps need to learn to listen and obey. What do you say to that, Marcie?"
"Yes," Mark sobbed. "I'm sorry. I won't be bad again."
"And how about you, Sable?" Angie wanted to know.
"I'll try really hard to be good. I'm sorry I wouldn't French kiss... um... Marcie."
"You should be sorry. It's not like we're asking for a lot. But now, since you've demonstrated how difficult you can be, we're going to have to go further than we planned."
That was one of the psychological tricks both females liked to use. They made their sissies feel that it was their own fault that they were being punished or even getting more discipline than they would have otherwise. Not only did prolonged relationships like these ones change those on the receiving end of all the mistreatment, physical and mental. They also altered those who administered everything. Carmen and Angie had enjoyed what they were doing from the beginning, but over time their appetite for it had grown and deepened. They became adept at inventing new games to play with their helpless partners. There were subtle details that the inflictors relished while they committed them, but also savored long afterwards.
The feminized men stood there, leaning forward, with their hands on their knees. The longer they maintained those poses, with their bottoms pressed together, the more the potential homosexual aspects of it increased. The flow of excess blood to their nether regions, caused by the spankings, coincidentally stimulated their penises. But they had to ask themselves if there was some other reason that their members were tingling, and trying unsuccessfully to grow against their cramped containment. Was all the enforced girly behavior, the daily dressing up, having that effect on their personalities? Was it possible? Being kept in chastity, while living with a gorgeous woman, can play strange tricks on a man's mind.
"Now," Carmen said at last, "if you two pansies are done making trouble, we can get back to what we were doing."
"What's it going to be?" Angie asked them. "Some sweet kisses or else more hard spanks?"
The guys cowered under those words.
"Kisses," Mark said, barely audible.
"No more spanks," Steven said, his voice wispy.
The women silently congratulated themselves. It was so entertaining to manipulate their poor playthings. Each step, in breaking down their personas and remaking them in slightly different forms, was sheer pleasure. The accumulated changes, over time, were delightful to observe. They wondered sometimes, if the guys knew how femme they acted some of the time, since it had become automatic to them, and even evolved at times on its own, without added prompting. Always eager to avoid approbation and punishment, both subjects would surprise the women with new affectations, unexpected mannerisms, odd turns of speech. Mark had started sucking the tip of his pinky finger when he got nervous. Steven had begun to rub his inner thighs when he was especially horny. They each had certain phrases they used, without prompting, like cooing, "That's so sweet," while dividing the last word into two syllables, or breathily exclaiming, "I'm just being silly," followed by an apology.
"All right then," Carmen said, "let's see a lip lock."
"And then some tongue-on-tongue action," Angie contributed.
With their bottoms burning, the sissies were not inclined to stall again. They got face-to-face once more. Their hands came up tentatively. They held onto each other's shoulders and leaned in for a kiss. Following instructions, they fastened their mouths together, with lips parted. It went against their most basic self-conceptions but they did it anyway. Then they eased back until there was space between their heads. Out came their tongues, to dance all over each other. After that, rather than risk displeasing the women who ran their lives, they alternated between the deep probing and visible slip-and-slide. There was an energetic obsessiveness to it, as they acted like two oversexed teens on a date. Then one of those unanticipated moments took place, as Mark licked the outside of Steven's mouth, and Steven responded by nibbling on Mark's lips. The women watched, wide-eyed, until the heavily engaged couple realized what they were doing and abruptly retreated, their tongues lolling out.
"That was what I wanted to see," Carmen congratulated.
"But after your slow start," Angie considered, "we need something extra. How about if you... hmmm... use your mouths like that some more, except do it on those perky pink nipples. Come on. Lift up the tops you're wearing, for easy access."
The guys were soon close to tears, confused by how they had overperformed and distraught by this new demand. Even so, they had plenty of momentum from the kissing and, for reasons they couldn't be fully sure about, their penises were straining against those unbreakable cages. Their balls throbbed. They salivated. Up came the tops. Mark broke the ice by bending down and fastening his mouth over Steven's nipple. He licked and sucked. When he straightened up, Steven reciprocated with some extended-tongue lapping. They went back and forth, trying different techniques, until both of them were panting. Their self-control was at a low point. They got their hands on each other, more than was necessary. The women didn't interfere. This was priceless. It opened up so many possibilities. They noticed that their own breathing had accelerated. The guys had another one of those moments of clarity, when they understood how carried-away they had gotten, and how much they were betraying their belief in their own heterosexuality. It was all too much. Their heads were spinning. The women sensed that and decided to give them a break. It was not out of mercy. Rather, they wanted to allow them to recover, so the cycle of arousal and humiliation could be started all over again, from zero.
"Let me give you a tour of my home," Carmen offered to Angie. "Did I mention that, as of last month, Marcie is absolutely penniless. I own everything." She said to Mark, "Isn't that so, dearie?"
He lowered his eyes and admitted, "Yes, Carmen."
"I could toss you out on the street, with nothing to your name. Or drop you off on some street corner, in a bad part of the city, to earn your keep alongside some working girls. I'm sure there's a market for a sissy like you."
"Y... yes, Ma'am. Thank you for letting me stay, Ms. Carmen."
"But right now, you two girls hold hands and follow us. I want Angie to see everything that used to be yours, and is now mine, all mine."
The women went, with the guys following silently, watching those broad shapely bottoms sway. The sissies glanced uneasily at each other, then averted their eyes in embarrassment. They couldn't forget all the warm and wet contact they had shared. Carmen made sure to emphasize how much Mark had lost and how very dependent he was on her. She pointed out the absence of any male clothes and the extent of his female wardrobe. Angie said she was following the same pattern with Steven, but that she wasn't as far along. She recounted how he had wept when she made him carry the last box of his male clothes into the thrift store, to contribute, while he wore a blouse and toreador pants which, with a lot of imagination, could be mistaken for male attire, but which were more likely to scream the word SISSY when they were seen on him. When they reached Mark's bedroom, where he got to sleep when she didn't require his oral services at night, or didn't want to give him a long teasing before sleep, Carmen said that they should dress both sissies in new outfits.
"Don't worry," she noted, "because he's got more scrumptious goodies than he could wear in a year without repeats. In fact, you can keep whatever we put onto Sable. After all, I have tons of money nowadays. Certainly, a lot more than when I was a mere maid, with the former version of Marice ogling me all the time."
The women acted like a couple of young girls playing dress-up with dolls, as they considered what to put the sissies into. They made the two of them undress each other, then giggled as they went through a top drawer and found two pairs of panties, one in lavender and the other made of shimmery gold material, both with open crotches. They had the guys put them on each other and then parade around with their cock-locks on display. Next came tops made of fishnet, which allowed the sissies to finger each other's nipples, when told to. Finally, there were silly slippers, fuzzy ones with the fronts made to look like the faces of cartoon animals. One was a kitten with long whiskers and the other a unicorn sporting a silver horn.
"Let's see some thanks," Carmen suggested.
"Like by kissing our boots."
"Come on."
"We're waiting to see your gratitude."
The defeated sissies sank to their knees, got their heads down low, and kissed leather. The women kept them at it for several minutes, until the sissies had suffered an additional layer of surrender and humiliation, piled atop all the others.
"Okay," Carmen announced. "There's just one more thing to do. We were going to stop before this point but, like I said, you two brought what's coming on yourselves. I hope you'll remember that. It wouldn't be happening otherwise."
"You drove us to it," Angie pronounced.
They all moved to the den. The women produced the keys to both pecker prisons. They unlocked the men and released their dicks from solitary confinement. The sissies stood there, in their insulting lingerie, not quite believing what had just happened. Any hopes they had dared to have, got crushed when Carmen told them what they were supposed to do.
"You're going to jerk each other off," she stated flatly.
"But..." Mark forgot, for a moment, how precarious his situation was. "You can't expect us to touch each other."
"You did a good job of it, just a short while ago, Marcie, with all that kissing and those nipple games."
"Yes, but that wasn't... you know... down there."
"Oh," Carmen said with a nod, as if belatedly understanding. "I get it. You don't want to put your bare hands on anybody else's dingle-dangle. I've got a solution. Give me half a minute."
She swept out of the room. The guys had a bad feeling about it, based on lots of past experiences. The women tended to purposefully misunderstand them. Sure enough, Carmen came back with two flat boxes, each containing a pair of rubber clean-up gloves.
"And they're in pink," she chirped. "It's your color, girls." She lowered her voice, as if to convey confidential information. "And I bought them at a dollar store, so don't worry about the cost. I know neither of you has a buck to your name. Not anymore. Now put them on and you can stroke all you need to, without actually putting your hands on bare boy-parts. Or, in your case, I should say, 'sissy-boy parts'."
The guys looked unhappily at the gloves. Of course, this wasn't what they wanted, though it was a slight improvement. Looking miserable, they donned the kitchen-wear. Their hands shook as they extended them toward the crotchless panties. When they took hold of each other, nothing happened. Even after a few uncertain tugs, their freed tools remained flaccid.
"Oh boy, girls. You have to get into what you're doing. Don't let go of those soft sticks, but show us some more kissy-poo. And use your free hands for nipple tickles. You can do it, Marcie."
"Show your sissy sister how much you want her, Sable."
The panty-wearing pair kissed, at first gently, and then with mounting passion. Their desperation to gain release was overwhelming. They groped around and found nipples, through the wide mesh of their tops. Then they wet gloved fingers to increase their efficacy for teasing. Soon they were holding erect cocks, and pumping them in slow motion.
"That's it, ladies," Carmen urged. "You can win this event." She coached, "Stroke. Stroke. Stoke."
Angie cheered, "Pull for the home team."
"This won't take long, after you've been under lock and key for so long."
"We don't want a mess, so catch your jerk-buddy's spunk when it shoots."
The sissies moaned from crushing shame. Even so, their emotions weren't enough to stop them from mutual-male-massaging. They carefully positioned their unoccupied hands to catch the backed-up semen when it spurted. With the girls watching avidly, the guys put each other noisily over the top. Their cream was blasted into the waiting gloves. It was the most intense disgrace of all, so far. Their shoulders slumped and they hung their heads.
"Good show," Carmen crowed.
"You came together. That's a sign of real devotion."
"Now all that's left is dealing with the messes you just made."
"So feed each other all that yummy cum."
"Get it while it's warm."
"Eat your protein, girls."
"It's nutritionally balanced."
The guys gagged. This was unthinkable. They gazed wordlessly at the puddles in their palms. In their minds they replayed everything that had happened since Angie and Steven arrived, as well as where their individual lives had gone from the time the women took them over. The hopelessness of fighting back was evident. Resistance was futile. Like automatons, with their controls set at half-speed, they slowly brought their gloved hands up to each other's mouths. Apologetic looks were exchanged. Tongues poked out. Chins were tilted downward. They simultaneously got their first taste of their own ejaculate. Whimpering and making sounds of revulsion, they lapped it all up, and then had to suck each finger. By the time it was done, they had the appearance of victims of shock.
The women chortled and patted them on their bottoms. They stuffed those limp dicks back into their compact casings and locked them. The sissies could only stand there and mewl sadly. They had crossed a line and could never return to being who they were before it happened.
"That was a fun visit," Angie said.
"We'll have to do it again, soon."
"Soon and often."
"After all, there is so much more we can do with our pathetic sissies."
"More and more, until they can barely remember a time when they wore trousers."
Carmen and Angie grinned. Mark and Steven -- aka Marcie and Sable -- were plainly crushed.
What would happen the next time, and the next, and the next after that?
*********
(Some impetus for this wild tale was provided by Crayle ((aka C.C.)), Suzy and Bootsy. Thank you all. The rest of it came from my own convoluted and kinky imagination.)
