Build-a-bride

I waited nervously by the door. My heart and stomach were aflutter, like usual. I knew the pose he liked to see me in when he first came in the door; face down, kneeling down on the soft carpet, hands out-stretched in front of me, my panty-clad ass in the air. It meant I could really only tell how close he was by sound and vibration alone. There would be consequences for not being in position, so I liked to get there early - face-down and ass up, ready for inspection and my release phrase. It means I spend maybe 10 minutes of my day like this; but I don't mind, it helps reinforce my identity to myself, and give me time to reflect.

A car door opening makes me softly gasp - is it him? But no, it's the next-door neighbor. Why am I so anxious to see my man? Well, it wasn't always like this - it used to be women that made me catch my breath and send warm feelings down between my legs. And of course then, it would generally result in my cock getting an erection, whereas now... I briefly sent my awareness backwards to the locked custom cage installed on my clitty. I could feel it softly leaking with pleasure in my red lace panties, slowly soaking through. So how did things change?

I first met Daddy five years ago, cruising porn on Reddit. While I had always absolutely considered myself straight, I'd fallen into the pretty damaging habit of consuming sissification and feminization porn, jacking off every night to some femboy getting railed, or a chastity-bound cuck getting pegged. I even started to experiment with my own clothes; buying panties, bras and lingerie from the internet. It felt intoxicating; I could finally feel desirable in my own body, and I knew that other people would desire me too. Of course, this generally only lasted for a day or two (or as long as I could prevent myself from jacking off). As soon as that happened, I would purge everything. I'd then swear up and down I would go get a girlfriend, and leave this behind...only to relapse weeks, and sometimes days, later.

This all changed when I met Daddy. I didn't know it at the time, but he wasn't just browsing for a quick role play or even just online fun; he had an agenda. He was in the market for a wife. And not a ready-made, batteries-included wife either; he was more fond the build-your-own variety. He was ready with an arsenal of tactics to unleash, all with the aim of converting a closeted pornosexual virgin into his ultimate sissy bride. Thinking about it now makes my cheeks blush, my clitty strain in the cage and my body shiver. My leaking clitty is now making a little mess on the carpet, but that's okay. Daddy approves, and he teases me that he loves seeing the little messes I make for him by the door; it just demonstrates how much I'm his little girly bitch. I'll clean it up later, of course, like a good wife - a truly fruitless task, because we both knew I'd just stain it again tomorrow...

The cage was, of course, his first and most powerful tactic; the opening salvo that would open me up like a flower petal, that would allow him to push his way inside my brain and operate the levers of my libido and identity. When we'd first started chatting (and to be sure, I was absolutely in the mindset that this was just another one-and-done online fling), he established very early on that I was not allowed to cum without his permission. He asked me if I had a cage, and as luck (or fate) would have it, I did: a cute little metal cage that I'd not tried on yet. I locked it on for him (using a tagged lock) and took a picture; and he told me in no uncertain terms that if it became clear I'd tampered with the lock, he would ghost me.

And I was so horny, so turned on by this, that I didn't realize I was falling unwittingly into his trap. No cumming, meant no post-nut clarity...meant no purging.

Of course, nowadays, Daddy lets me cum as much as I want - in my cage of course. Whether it's from him fucking my brains out, or me desperately vibing myself while he's away, or with his cock in my mouth... I've probably had more orgasms inside the cage now than outside.

The lock jiggles in the door. I immediately lick my lips - he's home! Will he want a blowjob? God, I hope so - sometimes he gets so tired from his medical rounds that he just wants to collapse. That's okay too though: I'll bring him a beer, and sooner or later he'll pay attention to me. Just the though makes my ass wriggle...

"What a day, what a day..." I hear him murmur. It's quite surreal really; I think most husbands in the world would do anything to have a sexy horny kitten waiting for them on their knees, clad in gorgeous expensive lingerie. But for my Daddy - that's everyday. Such is the benefit of customizing your perfect wife, rather than shopping off-the-shelf.

I've been living with my Daddy for two years now, and have been married for the last six months. I've been on hormones for the last two years too; and it's not a coincidence that those days match up. Was I always trans and he just gave me the space to be myself; or did he manipulate me into thinking that way? Is he kind and affirming, giving me a chance to be the girl I've always been; or did he have an agenda, or both? These questions, in the end, don't really matter. The reality of the situation is, I'm his bride and I'm happy. Ohh, but the wedding night...that's a story for another time. Just brushing up against the memory causes me to shiver with sweet delight and just a hint of delicious embarrassment...but that's a story for another time

He calls my hormones my 'wife pills', and constantly teases me that every time I take them I'm just submitting to him all over again. "You wouldn't take them if you didn't want to be my wife, kitten" he would tease, while squeezing my newly voluptuous ass or my home-grown titties.

Of course, those are the moments I melt. When he grabs my cage with one hand, my ass in the other, and starts whispering things in my ear. To be clear, I am a transgirl - I am a girl. But I will always have the sissy kink, the kink that Daddy may not have installed but certainly upgraded. "You'll always be my sissy bride", he would whisper, as I whimpered uncontrollably. "The cage stays on, and every day you become more and more my perfect girl". So I suppose to be more accurate, I'm not a girl...I'm *his* girl.

Of course, the fact I'm pussyfree, and have never had sex with a girl, is a huge turn for him (and, quite honestly at this point, for me). When I met Daddy, I was convinced that one day I would finally have the confidence to get with a girl, to see and touch a pussy, and to have sex. One of Daddy's other weapons was to turn my virginity into a fetish, so I would think twice about actually doing it; so that the thought of not having sex with a girl became somehow sharper and hotter than the thought of doing the deed. He would have me chant about being pussyfree; tease me about it; rub it in my face.

And then, he went for the jugular; substituting my vague desire for pussy into an intensive need for cock - specifically his cock. In our sessions, he would have me fantasize about it, drool for it, think about it, kiss pictures of it...

Back in the present, I could feel Daddy's eyes roving over me, taking it all in: the pale skin, the curves in all the right places, the expensive lingerie...everything I'd done to myself just in order to be his good girl, his perfect bride. I was even wearing my special "SISSYSLUT" collar with the pink leash - I had picked it out from my collection specially. Life as a my husband's good sissy sex doll is amazing, but even he knows some days I've got other things on my mind. If I'm wearing my plain collar, he respects that I'm just not as interested in being his whore. We'll probably end up cuddling and watching a movie, or doing chores.

But the collar with the pink leash...

"I absolutely need to blow off some steam into a pretty mouth right now. Good girl for waiting! Now could you help me out?"

My release phrase! I immediately felt my panties get even wetter as my clitty leaked, and I immediately snapped my head up, a huge grin on my face. There he stood right above me, still clothed but with his beautiful, delicious cock poking out of this fly. It was already so close, inches from my mouth. He was smirking, the grin that you only get when you realize you've pretty much got it set for life. Maintaining eye-contact and my smile, I pushed my head up to his shaft and used my tongue to lick him all the way from the base of his balls to the tip.

I was wearing my "sissy slut" collar with the pink leash, and he felt down around my neck and pulled it up, forcing me away from his cock so I was eye to eye with it.

"Eager beaver! Now now my slut...recite your mantra. Humiliate yourself for me. Dedicate yourself to me..."

I lowered my eyes so I was staring at his cock. My heart hammered in my chest, my small sissy tits rising and falling. My mantra is so hot and humiliating and it makes me feel so hot and bothered, and he knows that. I'd learned it on my wedding night, and now Daddy insisted on it. I lick my lips, bit my lip, and recited in my most delicate, girly feminine pitch: "I swear to be your perfect sissy bride. Keep me locked up and wanting, desperately denied, so I can please you. Let me be a whore for you. I'm your girl now, forever and always. I'll keep you happy...if you keep me your locked up princess..."My voice trailed off, and I risked a look up at him. He still had on that grin, but now with something else - there was some softness there, and understanding.

"Of course Sophie...now you may suck it".