A Sissy Saga Ch. 10

She was most comfortable when wearing few clothes, and at that moment she wore her blouse open at the neck and no bra. She could feel the points of her nipples moving against fine cotton, and she couldn't resist squeezing her thighs together, covertly bringing tension to her muscles and applying pressure to the moist slit and small throbbing nodule between her legs. There was something incredibly sexy about being so utterly in command of a pretty boy in a gymslip. Watching him gave her pleasure, but he wasn't allowed to know it.

Sitting up she looked around the room and noted how the previous shambles had been converted into meticulous neatness. "Your skill is impressive, Zoë." she told him in a low, velvety voice.

"I like to see things tidy." he answered.

Jennifer beckoned him towards her, then ran her fingers along the bottom hem of his brief skirt to enjoy having her hand in close proximity with his thighs. "When were you last punished?"

"Miss Twist punished me last night."

"Why did she need to punish you?"

"We were dancing. Sammy, Bambi, Holly and I. Just dancing, and she caught us."

"I don't recall dancing being against the rules. Mr Hardwick teaches dance. Were you doing country-dancing or jive, or were you practising his latest tap-dance routine?"

"Holly Bedlam had a disco-cassette."

"Disco music." Jennifer frowned, "All jumping about and twisting around to noises without rhythm. Yes, Miss Twist is a bit stodgy about things like that, and she'd probably think that sort of music quite unsuitable for nice young ladies."

"She said it was inelegant and she confiscated Holly's cassette. Then she slippered everyone's bottom."

"On the bare?"

"Yes, knickers down and over that horrid hurdle in her room."

Jennifer contemplated that for a moment, four darling girlie-boy fuckwits going over Emma Twist's hurdle one after the other, heads right down, bare bottoms pushed high and balls huddled between thighs. She tapped her fingers against her teeth, thoughtfully admiring Zoë's shining eyes, his peach coloured skin, his neatly combed hair and slender waist. His figure was finely honed, graceful and girly and his features blemishless, and she found it impossible to resist the chance to amuse herself with the sweet queen.

"Show me how you danced."

Zoë looked rather startled. He sensed her eyes running over him, making him feel like an object in a display case. He hung his head and tried to keep his voice neutral. "Oh, but I'm not really very good."

"Nonsense. I think you're being modest. Look here. I've some disco-music on my player, and Miss Twist won't confiscate that."

She slotted a cassette onto the player and watched as Zoë hesitated and then began to sway his head with the music. Knowing that Jennifer's temper was fragile and her smiles mere subterfuge, he dared not refuse her urging, and slowly he started to bop. Awkward at first, he was far from being a disappointment, but he lacked the vitality and spontaneity Jennifer wanted. Among his peers, with the sissies he hugged and kissed constantly she reckoned he probably sparkled, but in front of her, a girl, he was inhibited and mechanical. His expression said it all. His face was strained with embarrassment instead of naughty pouts and suggestive smiles.

Then slowly he began to relax and make the most of the confines of the room, weaving with the drumbeat, swaying his hips and rotating his pelvis, gesticulating with hands and arms whilst skipping about. Despite his earlier reservations he was suddenly moving exquisitely, and although his unconscious undulations had no specific form each had clearly been perfectly choreographed by practised repetition in the past. His movements became ever more fluid and synchronised, and his short skirt swirled around the tops of his thighs with seeming abandon, but ingeniously, infuriatingly, still excluded the slightest peep at his underwear.

Languidly, Jennifer shifted her position on the bed and crossed her legs. The sissy-poppet looked so sweet and vulnerable, so suitable for some other little game. She switched the music off while her eyes lingered on him. His poised stance was a sinuous curve, a flowing line. With an easy stretch she swapped the track on the player to music of a slow beat that matched the fall of pitch in her voice.

"You disco-dance wonderfully Zoë. You're a natural mover and a stunning beauty. You could become a fashion model."

Zoë's long black lashes fluttered against his rosy cheeks and he squirmed with pleasure.

"Tell you what," Jennifer said, "Why not do a little striptease for me."

Zoë immediately blushed. "S-striptease?"

"Yes, let me see you get your kit off. I bet you put on a show for the other squeaky-creatures in your dormitory sometimes, so you shouldn't find it hard to do the same for me."

The sissy's blush deepened. He stood very straight, with his hands behind his back and his head turned downward at a slight handle. Jennifer's eyes were roving all over him. How sissies behaved in the dormitories was one thing, but he'd feel very uncomfortable performing in front of her.

She sat up on the side of her bed, her expression threatening. "I'm waiting for a response, Zoë. Are you trying to piss me off, or have aliens stolen your balls?"

With a tentative initial twirl he started to move his hips in a subdued bump-and-grind as he unfastened the loosely knotted waist band on his gymslip, then pushed the smock from one shoulder, and then the other before gathering the garment in his fists and sliding it down over his hips.

Jennifer hugged herself. He had a straight up and down figure without a hint of girlish hips, but his supple gyrations were suggestive enough without such attributes and his body glowed seductively in the light from the window. Oh, yes. He'd command a good audience of queers in the dormitories. A whole roomful of sissy cocks would throb and stand to attention. The most sensual feelings began to roll over herself too. It felt so wonderfully decadent, the inversion of roles so forbidden, to be commanding a young man in such a way and making him perform.

"Take your time. Be unhurried and graceful. Peel things off with a dainty flow, and try not to look so anxious. You're supposed to be teasing so you should have a naughty sparkle in your eyes."

Zoë couldn't sparkle, he was far too embarrassed for that. The removal of his blouse left him half naked; shoes and socks, a skimpy halter-top high on his chest, and panties - white knickers that clung snug to his hips and made a show of the gibbous shapes inside them. Despite his shyness the shameless act of disrobing had begun to excite him, and the front of his tiny pants bowed forward.

He took the halter-top off over his head with crossed arms, tugging the tight material past his ears before gazing at his mentor with concern. "Must I take off my pants too?"

Jennifer stared at the soft creamy skin of his slender abdomen. He looked so delightfully uncertain as his nervous hands stroked slowly up and down his belly and hips. "Yes, of course your panties too. Surely you're not shy about showing me your willy, are you? I've seen it plenty of times before."

"Yes, yes I know. But - but stripteasing is different, it makes me feel sort of odd." Zoë's eyes dipped to the floor and he fumbled gingerly with his pants, sliding the palms of his hands down his hips and beneath the elastic, easing the clinging garment down to allow just a brief glimpse of his stiff boner, before whirling about to uncover a superb bare bottom.

At last, thought Jennifer. The elusive bum finally revealed.

Stepping out from his pants the pink blush on the sissy-boys cheeks blossomed anew as his penis hardened quickly. His heart was pumping strongly and it was only natural under the circumstances that a lot of blood would flow there. It swelled and lengthened, thickened and bounced up solid and full of tension. It had a nice broad tip, and being entirely hairless seemed to emphasis its size and shape, a shape that assumed a slight upward curve that for Jennifer was aesthetically pleasing. His testes were quite large too and hung low with their fullness.

Zoë's hands fluttered in an impulse to hide it all, but in the end he left everything exposed. He knew Jennifer would only demand it anyway.

Other girls - and plenty of women - would have found the temptation to make use of his exquisite little fuck-toy overwhelming, but Jennifer scorned the very idea. She sought her thrills in obscure and deviant ways. She stood, and then walked over to stand behind him. His body was as smooth as a billiard ball, his penis and testicles showing slightly pink when observed against the uniform creamy hue of his nakedness. His upraised cock was circumcised and displayed a handsome broad tip, and she could almost feel the tension in the straining sinews of the thrusting shaft.

"You ARE a bad boy. Both a bad boy and a naughty girl. Fancy showing your randy sissy-stick to a lady!"

Zoë's head drooped as he sensed her scrutiny. Bless him, thought Jennifer cynically and rather gleefully. He probably didn't turn a hair when being ogled by the queens in his room, he probably loved it, but being inspected by a girl was something completely different. He, like most of the unambiguous fruitcakes at Fairyfield Grange had been denied contact with real girls for years, and such creatures were inevitably shy and modest sheep when facing an aggressive one in an intimate situation.

She gave in to a mood of the moment, put out her tongue and licked his ears... "Oh!" ...clamping her hands firmly onto his breasts, she then laid a gentle bite into the surface of his smooth, alabaster neck - no vampire sucking, just sharp teeth making his delicate soft skin dimple. It was a kind of statement. It was a grip mother animals used to manipulate their young, and it reaffirmed to the creature that she was the boss.

"Oh, oh!"

Aroused now, Jennifer ran her hands up and down his narrow back and smoothed them down over his thin waist, making the sissy-creampuff redden again as her fingers explored his buttocks and the insides of his slender thighs. Few situations could be more intimate than the one they were engaged in, and Jennifer emphasised that by gazing blatantly at his erection. "You're a saucy little honey with your pants off, aren't you? Do you know about birds and bees yet, or do you only know about being a limp-wristed tranny-queer?"

Zoë lowered his eyes and tears of despair began to well up. At that moment he was a picture of submissiveness, a state of mind that only encouraged Jennifer to smirk before she continued. "Of course, you're a pillow-biting cock-lover. Real girls wouldn't want anything to do with a mincing she-thing like you. If dressing you like a doll didn't amuse them, they'd be likely to scratch out your eyes for being so pretty. It's probably best if you stay as you are. Just settle for being a pantywaist, man-loving faggot."

Zoë winced. The maleness in him had been replaced by a simpering ultra-sissy whose sole purpose was to serve without question. Yet even as he considered his dreadful fate his penis throbbed.

It didn't go unobserved. "You can't put your panties back on with your girly-prick sticking out like that." Jennifer told him. "You're going to have to play with yourself and empty it."

"Do you really think I should? Do I have to?"

He was embarrassed all afresh. With others of his own ilk he'd be at ease, but when told to masturbate before a girl he was out of his depth, nervous and ashamed. How lovely, thought Jennifer. His coy glances and fevered blushes were enough to stir her interest at once, but instead of laying on threats and forcing him to do it she amused herself with gentle admonitions and subtle, persuasive badgering, pretending empathy, hinting at sympathy, while all the time making him bend to her will.

"Oh dear! Are you shy, Zoë? Am I being awful?" She purred the questions in a soft cadence, barely managing to hide the underlying mockery in her voice. "I understand. Never mind. You need to get over such silliness. Sissy-boys like you will always have to do naughty things to please girls. You have to learn to do as they tell you, and without arguing, or they'll hurt you. They'll pinch you and tease you. They'll spank your little bottom and smack your balls, and they'll make you cry."

She drew back slightly, then added in a tone that for the first time veiled a threat. "I want to see you give your willy a good rub, but of course you must ask my permission before you start."

Zoë trembled. "I don't really want to do anything like that. Can't I just get dressed?"

"No you can't. You'll do as I wish," Jennifer replied sharply, "Now, ask me."

The boys pretty mouth twisted and he prevaricated for a moment, then he lowered his eyes and squeezed out the request demanded. "May - may I play with myself, Jennifer?"

The girl's eyes shone with mischief. "Play with yourself? What a cute phrase. I bet you're not half so coy with language when you're with you're playmates. Speak plain and say what you mean."

Intimidated beyond delicacy, Zoë took a deep breath. "Oh, erm. Please Jennifer. Please may I have a wank?"

"That's better. Much better. And of course you may. I'll sit with you. You must learn what it's like to have your wanks supervised by girls."

She guided him across to the bed, then sitting him down on the edge she seated herself at his side, sliding an arm around his shoulders and using her other hand to stroke and knead his chest. "Now then Zoë darling, make a start. Get working on your stiff, wicked wand."

The she-boy began at once, slowly pumping with his hand, then stealing a brief pause before continuing with more sustained movements.

Jennifer loved forcing boys to perform in front of her like that. It embarrassed them terribly, and it never failed to strip away their pride and destroy their dignity. She observed Zoë closer than ever at that moment and saw his eyes shimmer in a familiar glaze of rapture as his hand gripped into a fist around his stem and began strumming wildly up and down. Ah yes! The head of his prick was reddish pink with an open pee-hole that was already drooling sticky stuff, and next would come the expression of dazed uncertainty and the breathless little gasps as it filled out and became fully extended. Then she'd hear the cacophony of his shameful sissy ecstasy as he became reduced to moaning and rubbing himself like billy-oh.

"That's it. That's nice. But do it faster." The girl urged him with the urgency of her own voice. Fully in command she pushed his knees apart in order to watch the bounce of his scrotum as it responded to the fervent yanking of his cock.

"Faster, faster! Give it a good workout, Yes, that's it. Rub-a-dub. It looks so swollen and stiff. Does it feel nice when your hand jerks it like that? Umm! Do you let the other sissies play with it sometimes? Do you ask them to suck it? I think they'd be beastly not to treat it nice."

The sissy-boy's lips, partially open, became contracted by a voluptuous agony, and with eyes now half closed, he seemed near to swooning. Despite his previous reluctance he had excited himself to a high pitch. Jennifer smiled and rubbed his belly. "I bet you're thinking about a boy kissing you and rubbing your stiff cock, aren't you Zoë dear? But that only confirms that you're a pantywaist sissy faggot."

"Oh - oh - oh - Jennifer, I-I ..."

"I know what you're trying to say. It's such a big, stiff thing now, isn't it? And you can't stop rubbing it, can you? It feels too nice, doesn't it? You couldn't stop rubbing it even if you wanted to, so go ahead and cum like sissies do."

She watched his face contorting, saw his hand pounding, listened to his bleating moans of distress. It became obvious his climax was upon him. The pleasure was so intense even she being there couldn't ruin it.

"Ah, oh, oooh!" He slumped against her, pushing his cheek against her bosom whilst his mouth disgorged irrepressible noises of bliss. "Oh Jennifer. Ooooh, ooow!" His shimmering eyes fluttered and he gasped with endured pain as milky semen exuded over his hand in fierce, unstoppable splutters.

Jennifer cradled him and quietly observed each squirt of his viscose seed. It made up a rather reasonable amount, rather impressive, but typically she sought to increase his embarrassment by exaggeration. "Mmm, my oh my! You are a spunky little madam, aren't you? Such a lot! Such a big load to get rid of, you naughty girly-wanker. Don't dare stop until you've got it all out."

Zoë couldn't stop. Even when cream leapt up and puddled in his navel his fingers didn't stop moving immediately. They wouldn't cease their squeezing and pulling until the delicious ache in his solid stem had been worked out too.

"You are a disgusting sissy," Jennifer chastised playfully. "Fancy allowing a girl to watch while you make your willy pump out all that stuff."

She thrust a paper tissue in his hand. "Wipe up the mess. You're probably feeling ashamed, and quite right too. But I'll help you to get rid of your guilt by giving you a nanny-spank over my lap." The teasing light of humour that had danced in her eyes had now disappeared. She stood up and swung about to push him down across the bed.

"First though, I'll start by giving your legs a few slaps - inside the tops of your thighs where the flesh is tender. It'll sting I expect, and it'll make you weepy again, but I won't be cross with you if you cry. It's normal for young men being girly to shed a few tears at times like these."

***

The abrupt, unexpected jangle of the telephone startled Parson Roper, the hollow acoustics of the church vestry making its alarm particularly unpleasant. Although it was unseemly for a man of the cloth he couldn't restrain himself from uttering a profanity under his breath as he reached over from his seat to lift the receiver. "Roper - Parson Roper."

The high-octane voice of Mrs Boroclough blazed away at him from somewhere in the distance. "Parson, I'm sitting at home brooding about that awful Hancock woman. It really is intolerable that after so long she's still allowed to operate that frightful so-called school of hers within the parish of Peasmarsh."

Roper smiled wanly. "Dear Mrs Boroclough, I'm certain we've had this conversation before, and you must get out of the habit of taking the troubles of the world upon your shoulders. Is it the form of dress worn by the students that troubles you?"

"Certainly the school uniforms are a concern. It's improper, not to say indecent to have young men dressed in a style more appropriate for girls practically swanning around on our doorsteps. What does the wretched woman think she's doing? Does she really believe we're all so dim as to believe they really are girls?"

"I doubt anyone is in danger from them, Mrs Boroclough. Miss Hancock seems more concerned with keeping a low profile and avoiding confrontation. If she's infringed the law-of-the-land I'm sure she would not be allowed to continue. Clearly the people who provide her with students have taken a radical step away from tradition, but we can't pillory them for just wishing to pursue a different way of life to our own."

"Parson you're infuriating. You should be condemning her from the pulpit and lambasting her at every turn. You should be leading our fight against her insidious mockery of standards, instead of which you practically condone it. I'm utterly frustrated - even Lady Diana refuses to get involved. I really fail to understand the apathy that grips everyone about this business. I and the ladies of the Women's Guild seem to be the only sane people around."

"Do try to be charitable, Mrs Boroclough. Times change and I'd be thought a fuddy-duddy of a priest if I didn't make some effort to change with them. People have freedom these days to experiment with unorthodox ways of life. If your concern is that Fairyfield Grange is not fulfilling its purported role as a school it would be better to draw the matter to the attention of the Board of Education."