A Sissy Saga Ch. 11

(Rub, rub) "Wicked slut!"

"Aah, ooh!" In spite of everything Wendy's breathing became laboured and erratic, but not wishing to confess the excitement boiling up inside him he shivered for a few more moments on the brink of embarrassing himself with squeals of delight, then suddenly he gave in.

"Ooooh, mmmm, ooow!" Beneath him there was a soft, rapid 'splatter, pat, splat' on the carpet as his penis twitched and powerful, previously pent-up jets of semen shot downwards between the man's legs. For a moment he lay slumped and disorientated over the trousered lap as the relief of cumming left him stranded on a peak of ecstasy.

Smack, smack, smack! Rat-fat was smacking again. "Bad girl. Fuckin' fairy!" Crack, smack, whack! "Now, don't do it again!"

At last the punishment ended. Tears streamed down Wendy's trembling cheeks as the man turned him onto his feet and pulled him forward by the hand. Caught up in emotion he automatically threw his arms around the man's neck and laid his head on his shoulder. "Oh, please sir, don't be cruel to me anymore. I promise to be good if you don't hurt me again."

Rat-face licked his lips and leaned forward to kiss his neck and suck his earlobe, then the man's open mouth slobbered against his face, captured his upper lip while his tongue prised a way into his mouth. A taste of stale tobacco assaulted the she-boys taste buds as the man licked down to his tonsils.

Even as Wendy choked rat-face couldn't resist touching that beautiful bottom once more. Easing Wendy's skirt up to his waist he caressed the tender cheeks, his strong palms flexing as he edged the she-boy's neat youthful body close enough to press the hardened lump in his trousers into the softness of his belly. "Do you like being a girl, Wendy?"

"Yes sir."

"Do you know that means you're a sissy?"

"Yes sir."

"Sissies aren't real men, are they?"

"No sir."

"No, and because they're not real men they should act as girls when men are around, shouldn't they?"

"Yes."

Taking a deep breath the man turned him and pushed him over the padded arm of the sofa. He slumped forward, whimpering, sobbing, belly down, burning bottom pushed up, skirt bunched around his waist.

Then came the sound - a sound he remembered well. ZIIIPPPP! It was the noise of a trouser fly being unfastened.

It was to be expected. A man can't spank a sissy without fucking him afterwards. The natural conclusion to disciplining sissies was to pump their pretty bottoms full of fresh cum. In spite of his humiliation and the discomfort he'd suffered Wendy felt a flush of hot excitement. He wanted to be desired and lusted after, and miserable as the day had been for him so far there was the possibility of a brief interlude of pleasure if he were fucked by a decent length of randy man-meat

He undertook the position of a sissy in submission; head down, bottom pushed up, knees well apart so that the man could play with his balls whilst contemplating his sissy anus in surrender. Surely a view no man worth the name could ignore.

The man pressed against him, broad thighs screwing on his buttocks, cock probing against his backside but not having much success. That he was a novice at anal sex became apparent when he tried to mount Wendy without lubrication. "Keep still yer little tart!" he rumbled in exasperation.

Wendy squealed at the dry jarring force pushing at his anal bud, and he waved frantically at the bottle of baby-oil on the side table. He was a faggot who wore a short skirt and he loved the idea of pleasing a strong male and being subservient to a big cock, but this man was falling short on expertise.

"Use that sir, you need to use some of that."

With his buttocks spread open Wendy's anus formed a delicate pouting roundel and the man quickly splashed oil onto it, making sure with his fingers plenty pooled around the tight looking buttonhole.

Wendy felt the unmistakable prod of man-dick. "That's it sir. Do it!" he panted as he felt the bulbous glands slip against his anticipating pucker. He was prepared to be a good fuck, but the man seemed to be in a hurry, or in a panic. Suddenly it was becoming a fiasco. Rat-face couldn't push in more than an inch of his penis. He was probably feeling guilty about what he was doing, longing to find out what it felt like to shag a lad in the arse, but too nervous to take his time and do it properly.

A few rapid movements and a sudden gasp confirmed his suspicions. The visitor's rodent-like face grimaced and he ejaculated almost at once in the crack of his bottom without making any substantial penetration.

"There! S-see if that don't teach yer to behave, yer - yer little whore." the man stuttered with uneasy bluster as he hurriedly fastened up his trousers.

He departed shamefaced and hot with guilt, and without any apology for his disappointing performance. Then Gloria came in.

"Crikey Gloria, what an awful character that man was. He didn't have a clue about what to do."

The housekeeper nodded in sympathy. "That one weren't nuthin' special. He wus just an inspector from the Inland Revenue who'd come to check on Miss Hancock's tax returns. 'Spect you were part of a deal they agreed on."

Wendy slipped forlornly back into his panties. "Can I go now?"

"No, m'dear, you've to wait here a bit longer. There's another visitor just arrived, an' this one's a lordship."

"A lordship?"

"Aye, a Peer o' the Realm, an' one o' Miss Hancock's oldest clients. He wants a pair, so Jennifer's had to go off an' find someone to join you."

Wendy's shoulders slumped, making him a picture of despondency. "I don't want anymore first-timers, and I don't feel like being spanked anymore."

Gloria shook her head and wagged a good deal of flesh. "Bless yu heart dear, it ain't the end o' the world, is it? I knows you've had an awful time of it lately, but it's best you do as your told an' don't go lookin' for trouble. Anyway, this lordship's experienced an' he don't do much by way o' spankin'."

A few minutes after Gloria had departed Sammy came through the door. Wendy regarded him with contempt. There was little difference in their ages, but like older teenagers everywhere he reckoned those younger than himself were inferior.

"Who's visiting?" asked Sammy.

Wendy observed him gloomily. "Gloria says we've to entertain a high stickler, a peer."

The other sissy shrugged his shoulders. "The only pier I know is the one at Blackpool."

"Not that kind of pier, you soppy tart. This one's a lord who lives in a castle with a deer park, and he as a villa on the coast at Morecambe Bay."

"I like the seaside," Sammy murmured wistfully, completely failing to grasp what had been said. "I 'specially like Blackpool. There's a smashing funfair on the beach there, so I like Blackpool most of all."

Inured with a sense of mischief that seemed impervious to the sternest discipline Sammy strode across the room and grinned at the statue of the Adonis. "He ain't got much of a trouser-snake, as he?"

From the bottom of the handkerchief pocket in the front of his skirt he extracted a crumb of blackboard chalk and quickly made a sketch on the statues belly. "That's more like it." he said, standing back to admire his work.

Wendy was aghast at the crude illustration of a penis and testicles Sammy had scrawled onto the figure. "Cut that out you chump." he snapped.

The loss of Wendy's prefect status hadn't escaped Sammy's notice, the news had raced around the school at midmorning, so he just smirked. "Oh, pooh! What do I do? Shake in my shoes and have babies?"

The insolence stirred up enough anger in Wendy to make him want to lash out, but before he had a chance the door opened and Miss Hancock's second guest entered.

What was revealed was an elderly man of medium height with pleasant if somewhat ruddy worn features, partially bald, but with beetled-brow and hanks of grey hair sticking out from above his ears. He wore a Savile Row suit that was beautifully styled and unerringly cut, the only thing compromising his image of quintessential elegance being the ominous bulge in the front of his trousers.

The two sissies flushed, looked at each other, and then looked sheepishly at the man. The visitor smiled thinly, staring first at Wendy who lowered his eyes, then at Sammy. His voice, like his appearance, was sophisticated and confident. "Name?"

"Sam - Samantha, sir."

"And your friends name?"

"M-my name's Wendy, sir."

The man's smile became a grin, the thin lips separating to display eburnean teeth so perfect they were probably dentures. First he studied Sammy, then shifted his gaze back to Wendy. "Hmm!" he murmured, nodding his head. Two of them, and a pretty duo indeed. A pair so temptingly fuckable that it was impossible to hide the rising shape in the leg of his trousers. Miss Hancock had done him proud as usual.

It was Nigel, Lord Chance-Barton's first visit to Miriam Hancock's new premises and he found the way she dressed the young men intriguing; a novel idea to have them play at schoolgirls, quite titillating - quite stimulating. He scrutinised them carefully; she'd given him two good-lookers and he wondered if he'd used them before in Harrogate. He decided he hadn't, he'd used all the best one's there and these two were fresh items.

He'd called in at Fairyfield on pure impulse whilst passing, just to pay his respects to Miss Hancock and to let her know that his wife was all right about the money he'd donated to her school. She'd been determined to kick up a stink about it at one time but something seemed to have happened recently. She refused to confide in him deeply, but he got the idea someone had concocted a load of ghastly lies about her and was threatening to release them to the news media. Abruptly she'd enjoyed a change of heart about the donations and said they didn't matter.

He'd hesitated, as a gentleman should, when Miriam offered him a brief dalliance with one of her boarders in a display of gratitude - he'd really only meant to have a look around - but then he thought, why not? He was packing a good deal of unrequited pork in his pants that day, so he said he'd rather like to try two together. Just as he'd done sometimes in Harrogate.

His vision suddenly focused on the terracotta statue and the crude illustration chalked on it. Wendy cringed as he heard him draw a noisy breath, while Sammy couldn't prevent himself from smirking.

His Lordship's smile at once became stony as his gaze turned on the younger of the two. "Can you tell me what you find so amusing? Who's responsible for that abomination?" he demanded.

The words were softly spoken but were charged with enough energy to make Sammy's face drain, and he instantly panicked. "Not me sir. Wendy must have done it."

Wendy's face expressed absolute horror at the lie, but before he could utter a word of denial the man laughed.

"Um, no more than I'd expect from a pansy-boy who wears such a disgracefully short skirt." Glancing at the Adonis again he caressed the front of his trousers thoughtfully. "So, it's anatomy lessons you want today, is it girl's? And you have an interest in male genitalia."

With no more ado he unbuttoned his trouser-fly and levered out his penis; a thick, turgescent length of stiff flesh with a broad, well defined helmet. Both sissies paled. It was a measure larger than Mr Hardwick's and neither could remember a man with such a big hairy thing leaking goo like that one.

"Do you know what this is?"

Sammy nodded. "It's a prick, sir."

"Yes," he agreed, sliding his fingers up and down, "And what is it used for?"

"For fucking girls." Wendy replied bravely.

"Sometimes for fucking boys." added Sammy.

For a moment they both looked at the huge cock and contemplated the places it would visit, but Nigel Chance-Barton didn't need to think about that, he already knew where it was going.

He reached down and drew Sammy forward, putting an arm around him and pressing him close as if cuddling a favourite relation. Despite being years older than his wife he still fancied himself as a youngish roué‚ with appeal to both genders. He was a cultured man, an art connoisseur, a collector of rare first editions and a devotee of drama and music. He could ride and shoot like a gentleman of his status was expected to do, and he was Master of the Hunt in the area where his ancestral home was located. He liked to present the persona of the Lord of the Manor and a country gentleman, but many saw him merely as an ageing Lothario who had married one of the most admired women on the social scene only to find he couldn't keep pace with her hectic style of life.

His Lordship was fatalistic about that. He knew his pretty wife had amorous affairs, but he never made a fuss about her unfaithfulness as long as he was allowed to pursue his own sexual peccadilloes. He still enjoyed sowing wild oats of his own, and he had a particular penchant for young fellows like Sammy and Wendy.

"Lift the balls from my trousers," he told Sammy, "then play with my prick."

Sammy set-to without any hesitation, lifting out the man's fat testicles and cupping them in his hand, and then grasping hold of the rearing penis in order to slick the foreskin back and forth. He'd done such things plenty of times in the past and was beyond being shy about it. The ageing aristocrat peered at Wendy. "Show me what a clever girl you are. I like pretty girls to suck my cock, can you do that?"

Without a word Wendy climbed down onto his knees and examined the swaying member jerking in Sammy's hand. It seemed colossal, with swollen veins showing everywhere and a thick cord of sinew running the length of it under surface.

Strangely, even though this man was far more gross in his requirements that the first one he'd been with, Wendy felt much more relaxed with him. This one knew exactly what he wanted, and wasn't the least bit nervous, so he was quite at ease as he examined the man's shaft and ran a featherlight finger along a thick blue vein. Finally he leaned forward and swirled his tongue ostentatiously beneath the fat, bulbous tip, watching intently as the whole vast projection throbbed.

"Ahh! That's it, naughty girly-thing, that's the way. Now take it in your mouth and suck."

A novice would have paused, but Wendy merely drew back slightly before running his delicate mouth over the sticky tip of the man's thick member, steadying the swollen head with his fingertips to prevent its wild twitching as he ran the point of his tongue around the rim prior to engulfing it with his mouth.

He felt the solid texture of hot flesh slide between his teeth, pushing down his tongue and squeezing against the roof of his mouth, and fearful of gagging if he allowed it to press too far his lips thinned and sealed around the weighty shaft. At last in control he salivated to create lubrication, then began to slide his face back and forth.

The cock had looked enormous when wagged in front of his face, but it seemed even more massive lodged in his mouth, and he could only imagine what it would feel like being forced up his bum-hole. Somehow just sucking it seemed the most comfortable option at that moment, so he sucked industriously, cheeks hollowing, jaw rolling, his eyes stealing upward glances at the man's flushed face.

The decadent old Peer met his gaze with a smile, pleased at the sight of the sissy's soft lips giving such rapt attention to his thick, veiny cock, and all the time Wendy sucked Sammy continued caressing between the man's legs, rolling his testes in his ball-bag and jigging his shaft. "That's it. Work everything up and down - mmmm - you're a natural cocksucker."

Then Sammy stood on tiptoe to kiss him and give him a delicious sissy tongue.

How pleasant, thought his Lordship. It had been an age since anyone had served him quite so well. What wonderful sensations a well-practised hand and mouth provided. These two were artists, and if he'd been granted the means to invent paradise he would have decreed it to consist of slim fingers jerking his foreskin while soft pink lips slurped on his knob. Very quickly his parameters of bliss began to change. "Get down beside your friend," he told Sammy, "I want you to taste my dick too."

Wendy became aware of Sammy settling beside him, and then felt his smooth cheek nuzzling against his own. Giving the end of his Lordship's penis a parting lick he offered it to the other sissy's mouth and for a moment worked the cock with his hand. Sammy took a moment to assess things, passing a wet tongue around the domed spongy tip before stuffing it into his stretched open, golopious mouth.

Being sucked-off by two hot mouths working in unison almost caused Lord Chance-Barton to ejaculate on the spot, but he managed to remind himself he was only sampling the appetiser of a feast. "Take off your clothes my dears." he told them.

He removed his own trousers whilst they were undressing, looking them over with appreciative eyes as he did so. Two sissy-cocks were revealed at an attractive level of half-hardness, bouncing sexily as the youthful queens moved around. Both had a slightly fatter appendage than he had expected and with the merest of caresses their foreskins retracted and they became fully erect.

Their bodies enticed him beyond words. Slender and serpentine, their skin white and soft, their bellies indented by the prettiest of navels, their nipples rose-petal pink, exactly like girls. They were obviously going to be able to provide the same tight, squirmy pleasure of girls. They each promised a good fuck.

Hands by their sides, heads tilted up, blushing deliciously, they watched his eyes rove over their sumptuous bodies. He told them they could keep their shoes and socks on. Having girls naked but for just shoes and socks pleased him in a fetish kind of way, and Wendy and Samantha were sort of girls, just as pretty anyway.

Removing his own shoes and briefs he displayed his manliness, his body still vigorous, nowhere showing the emaciation or meagreness of age. Certainly no weakness in the capable structure of his swollen cock. He was prodigiously equipped and still at full erection. He was immensely proud of his sexual prowess, oblivious of his age and advancing alopecia and deliciously mindful of his corpulent, vertical member, his every nerve was at a tense pitch.

Two to enjoy, both simpering little sissies created for the pleasure of men. A pair of pretty angels with mouths and bottoms eager for cock, each delicately scented in a way that seemed customary at Fairyfield Grange. A flush of excitement stained his face all the way up to his receding hairline. "Get up on the couch." he told them.

Moving forward, breathing in and swelling his chest, he placed his hands on Sammy's hips and turned him around to enjoy a view of his rear, a slender image with a shapely bum worthy of everything he was going to give it. He stroked the smooth contours and made the girl-boy giggle prettily, then crouching down slightly as he probed with the tip of his penis.

A deluge of clear oil flooded the dainty rosette, then the man took his erection in his hand and began to worm its bloated tip forward. He'd never been randier than at that moment and was able to bully the anal ring and force it to expand and give accommodation. Sammy squawked as his anus was made to stretch, and stretch some more, and he clutched the back of the sofa as his rectal pucker flattened against the huge bulbous tip of the man's insistent cock. While his belly undulated in spasms, his lips drew back in voluptuous agony as his backside was prised open.

"Oh, ooooh sir! It's - it's - oooh, sir!" The rosette blossomed and its rim slowly indented inwards, becoming oddly concave as his Lordship inserted a mighty length of his thick wand into the helpless girly-bottom in a single motion.