Caught in Pink: A Sissy Story

I felt trapped. Not knowing who was doing this to me while simultaneously knowing they were somewhere in the factory with me was maddening.

12:24 pm "You're playing with fire."

12:44 pm "Last chance, slut."

1:11 pm "Okay . . . have it your way."

The last message broke me and I scrambled to respond before they did anything hasty. "I'm here"

"I am very disappointed in you, slut," they wrote. "There will be repercussions."

"What do you want from me?" I demanded, "What have I done to deserve this?!?"

"You're a dirty little cumslut, I'm just treating you as what you are."

They weren't entirely wrong, either. To some extent they hadn't yet made me do anything I wasn't already doing of my own free will.

"How does this end?" I asked.

"Glad you asked," they said. "Tonight, you're going to have a very special date. He's a very dear friend of mine and I expect you to take special care of him. You aren't going to like it, but that's the price you pay for testing my patience. To answer your question, this Saturday night I'm hosting a little get together with a few friends and you're going to be our hostess. You're going to take care of my guests, and then it'll be over."

As much as I didn't like the sound of ANY of that, it came as a relief to know that this could be over in less than a week's time. Still, I made an attempt to negotiate with them. "You don't need to go through all this," I wrote. "Just come over and talk to me, I'll be discreet don't worry. I'll take good care of you! Hell, if we hit it off we could even make it a regular thing, you don't have to go through all this!!"

Their response was cold as ever. "Be waiting out on the curb at your place at 10 pm . . . SHARP. Making him wait will make things SO much worse for you. Just remember, you brought this on yourself, SLUT."

It was on my mind for the rest of the day. If making me photograph myself wearing red satin panties and a buttplug was their idea of saying "Hello", and giving three back to back blowjobs to total strangers was foreplay to M . . . then what the hell was PUNISHMENT going to be like?!?

I found out at 10 pm . . . more specifically, about 10:15 pm, after my mystery date had picked me up and driven me to an isolated turn out with a walking path and a view of the canal. Since "M" neglected to choose my wardrobe as they had the night before, I chose something that gave me as much coverage as possible. All black to make me as invisible as possible as I stood there on the curb waiting, and for whatever happened next. Black boots, black tights, a black cami, all concealed by a long black raincoat.

He picked me up in a big black Caddy, and never spoke a word as he drove us to our destination.

After he'd parked and killed the engine, he remained mute as he came around to the passenger's side, opened the door, and pulled me out by my elbow and made me walk down the path several paces ahead of him. "Where are we going?" I asked.

Speaking for the very first time, this tall, gruff man dressed like he'd come straight from bench-pressing a bus using nothing but his penis said, "Asking questions is what got you here, go ahead . . . ask a few more."

I didn't ask anymore.

We came to a park bench set on the path and he said, "Stop."

I didn't ask.

He stripped the raincoat off of me and draped it over the back of the park bench . . .

I didn't ask.

He told me to turn around and put my hands behind my back . . .

I didn't ask.

Cold steel handcuffs placed on my wrists . . .

I didn't ask.

Bent over the back of the park bench until my cheek was pressed against thirty-year-old lumber that's been pissed, puked, and shat upon as many times as your grandmother has gotten mail. Two very strong legs kick and nudge mine until my knees are touching, and two strong hands reach around and remove my belt.

I didn't ask.

The loose end is run through the buckle and turned into a slipknot . . . the loop is placed over my head, down my face, and around my neck.

I DID ask . . . "What are you . . ."

In response, the man yanks my tights down around my ankles and, in one powerful and violent motion, tears off the panties I'm wearing . . . before stuffing them into my mouth.

He spat twice in his hand. One he slathered over my defenseless opening, the other he applied to himself.

The belt around my neck went tight, pulling my face up from the bench until I saw the canal glistening in the moonlight, and then I felt him pushing himself into me. Not probing, no illusion or pretense of trying to hit the mark. Just a long continuous thrust, pushing into me without worry . . . the head would eventually find its way inside. And it did.

4

I've never been fucked by anyone the way M's "very special friend" fucked me, and I don't mean that in terms of good or bad. In the middle of our short and almost violent encounter, I remember thinking to myself that it was almost like he'd never fucked ANYONE before. His technique simply didn't make any SENSE; backing me away with him as he withdrew and pushing me down onto the park bench as he thrusted into me . . . almost as if he didn't want to be there any more than I did.

That's when I realized . . . this thing I was trapped in went beyond me by at least one other person, and if there was another ME (albeit a TOP version), then there might be others, MANY others. Maybe this guy didn't even LIKE gurls but had made the mistake of disappointing M the way I had, and this was HIS punishment as well.

Whatever his motivations, it was one of the most dispassionate experiences of my life, similar to what I expect prostitutes must feel from time to time. Just . . . EMPTY. Once in a while he'd give the belt around my neck a yank but even that (thankfully) was devoid of interest to him. Within a mere few minutes of him awkwardly attempting to bang our bodies together, he gave the belt once last ineffectual tug and let out a grunt as he came inside of me.

He pulled himself out of me and left me there bent over the bench as he pulled up his pants and his zipper. I felt him leaning over me and he whispered his message from "M".

"M says if you fuck up again, I'm to leave you exactly like this. Understand?"

I nodded, "Yes, I understand."

"Hold onto those cuffs, you're going to need them. You're not finished for the night."

He took hold of the steel cuffs binding me fitted the key into one of them, releasing me, then shoved the key into my hand and began to walk away. I pulled up my panties and then the tights over them before taking the belt from around my neck and replacing it around my waist. I had just removed the other cuff and taken my raincoat from the bench when I heard the man's car start from up the path followed by the sounds of a revving engine and spitting gravel as he drove off.

I'd never gone out in public as "Krissy" before, and if I had ever imagined it I NEVER would have done it so close to home, especially since the town was full of my co-workers.

I put the raincoat on and pulled the hood over my head, hoping I could make it back to my apartment unseen by anyone. I kept to the dark, but unfortunately the dark is where the nocturnal animals like to hang out. With my heels echoing out like a dinner bell, people heard me coming from half a block away. I tried to walk "quietly" and even considered taking them off and walking in my bare feet, but this wasn't the kind of place you wanted to walk barefoot, either.

The shortest and safest (least visible) path home took me past a long condemned train bridge over the canal. Thankfully I didn't need to cross it to go where I was going, but I did have to pass under a small overpass. It was there in the dark that I was caught.

Two silhouettes appeared in the darkness before me, they stepped out of the black and stood in the middle of the road, stopping me dead in my tracks. I slowly turned and began walking back the way I had come, and when I did a third figure appeared at that end. As I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest, they began to close in on me from both ends.

"Hey . . ." one of them called out. "What's the matter, you lost?"

Frozen in fear, I just stood there, unable to answer.

The others joined in . . .

"Yeah bitch, you lost?"

And, "You lookin for something?"

Not knowing what else to do, I pulled back the hood of my raincoat and in the deepest most masculine voice I could muster, I said, "I'm just heading home, fellas. Not looking for any trouble."

When they continued advancing, I knew I was in real trouble. They KNEW I wasn't a real girl, and they knew I'd be walking home this way, and at this exact time.

We were all close enough now so that we could make out faces, and one of them, a thin wiry man with neck tattoos, wolf-whistled at me and said, "Look at this sexy little bitch . . . what's your name, gorgeous?"

They began circling like a pack.

I just stood there.

A younger man with arms as thick as thighs looked me up and down and said, "Let's get a look at you, Princess."

He unzipped my raincoat and opened it, "Mmmm, that's nice . . ."

The third man, easily as tall as I was stepped up behind me and took hold of my wrists before grinding his crotch against me.

The man before me ran his hands down the sides of my fake tits, down my rib cage and onto my hips. "Are you going to be a good girl, or are we going to have a problem?", and at the same time, the man behind me reached into the pocket of my raincoat and brought out the handcuffs

I remember being led through the tunnel and up the embankment onto the rusty old train bridge. The cuffs were put on me, in front this time, and after that . . . the rest is kind of a blur.

I was pushed down to my knees on the grass at the top of the embankment and three hard cocks mouth fucked me and face slapped me from so many directions that I lost track of what belonged to who. Then I was on my back with my tights and panties around my ankles with one guy fucking me and another straddling my chest with his cock in my mouth and the third making me stroke his cock with my hands. I don't know how many times they switched positions, I had already gone deep into subspace and was barely aware of what they were doing, and I remained that way until I was letting myself into my apartment. The clock on my stove said 11:15 pm, but I felt like it had been DAYS.

I spent over an hour washing these men off of me, and out of me, and within a couple of hours it was already beginning to seem like a dream, almost as though it had been something I witnessed rather than experienced, and that it hadn't been me at all.

I was soaking in a scalding hot tub when M messaged me. This time, I answered right away.

"How was the walk home, slut?"

For the very first time, I think I knew the right answer . . . "I did as I was told."

M entered a winking emoji and replied, "Good girl, we're going to get along just fine from now on, I think."

"Just tell me what you want, and I'll do it," I replied.

"That's exactly the right answer, slut. I'm glad you learned your lesson. For that, I'm going to take it easy on you tomorrow. You'll wear the panties you wore tonight under your uniform, and I'll send you a text demanding proof at some point during the day, or maybe I won't."

I responded the only way I could, "Thank-you."

"Friday, you may spend making whatever preparations you need to for Saturday night. I want you shaved bare from face to feet and squeaky clean when you arrive. It'll be a long night so you had better get lots of rest."

"Yes, M. I will."

"Yeah," M replied before vanishing for the night, "I know."

5

The next morning I was barely aware of what I'd done the night before, and felt totally disconnected from it all. I stood in the shower for so long that I ended up going into work late, and I wasn't there for more than ten minutes before M texted me, demanding proof that I was wearing the same panties as the night before. I no longer cared to resist, there was no point. In less than 48 hours I'd been made to perform oral sex on 6 complete strangers and had been brutally fucked by four of them. M was completely in charge of me now, and resistance was futile.

I went to the washroom, took 2 pics (front and back), sent them, and went back to work with the ease of making a cup of coffee.

M messaged; "Good girl. Plan for Saturday night around 10pm. I'll tell you where to go and what to wear."

I replied with a simple, "K."

M responded with, "You look tired, you should go home and get some sleep."

I didn't even bother looking around me to see if I could spot him, I'd find out soon enough, I thought.

I finished my shift that afternoon and left in a daze. I was asleep as fast as I hit my pillow and slept until almost noon the next day, though I didn't feel like did. I felt like I hadn't slept at all, and I got even more tired when I realized that I had but ten short hours before I would be submitting to M's whims.

I went through the day like a zombie, sitting like a soldier waiting for my orders. When I hadn't heard from "M" by dinner time, I nearly fooled myself into thinking that maybe they had decided that last night was enough and they were done with me. Half an hour later M shattered the illusion.

"Hello, slut. How are your holes?"

I typed back, "Sore."

"Yes, I imagine they are. Well I hope they are ready for tonight, because they are going to get some use."

"Yes M, I understand."

"Good boy. I'm really looking forward to it, actually. I've heard that fucking you is a fun experience, sort of like driving a tight little sportscar. I think I'm going to make your ass off limits to everyone but me tonight, so I can see for myself. You know what that means, don't you slut?"

Sadly, I was pretty sure I did. "Blowjobs?"

"Yes, sweetie. Lots and lots of them for whoever wants them, sort of like a party favor."

M sent me a copy of one of my pics and my heart sank. The pic was of ME sitting on the bathroom floor wearing skin tight latex pants and with my wrists cuffed to the towel rack over my head. I'd taken the pic myself using a camera timer and novelty handcuffs that I could remove without a key, but somehow I knew that tonight the cuffs would be real as they were on Thursday night.

"Get the idea?" M asked.

I replied with a simple "Yes."

"Good."

M sent a second pic, and a perplexing one at that. Taken about a year ago, it was a pic of me wearing a simple matching red panty and cami. I'm wearing makeup in the pic and a studded collar, but no wig, no bra, no fake boobs . . . I called it "Fuzzy femme". The only reason I'd posted it in the first place was that it happened to be my favorite outfit to sleep in, not to be a "gurl" in.

"Bring that one along with you, that's how I want you at the end of the night."

I almost asked if they were sure that's what they wanted, but then I thought better of it. At this point, what difference would it make anyways? I answered, "Kay."

"Good, slut. Very good."

Over the next few hours I repeated my usual routine. Shaving, scrubbing, cleansing, and laying out both outfits for the night. Then I slid into the skintight latex, put on a bra and began doing my makeup. After stuffing the bra with breast forms and slipping into the cami, my phone buzzed on the counter with a message from M.

"Your ride will be outside in 20 minutes. Don't make him wait."

I put on my wig and brushed the tangles out of it, then I shoved my makeup case and the 2nd outfit into my backpack and stood by my living-room window waiting. About ten minutes later a black sedan pulled up out front and flashed its lights. A small part of me was tempted to turn off my lights and let the car leave without me, but I couldn't get past how badly M could ruin my life and my reputation at the factory. If my sexuality became known, nobody would ever look at me the same way, and in many cases people would probably refuse to work with me. In fact, my personal life might be SO disruptive that it would disrupt normal production and attract the attention of management. And once that happened . . . I'd be finished.

Barely aware that I was doing it, I left my apartment and climbed into the sedan, tossing my backpack onto the back seat. I didn't even bother looking to see if any of my neighbors were outside, they were the least of my worries. I barely looked at the driver either except just to see if he was one of the men I'd serviced that week. He wasn't.

He drove me to an adjacent town that was known for the affluence of the people living there, and into a subdivision loaded with 4 car garages and in-ground swimming pools. I doubted that anyone from our factory could afford to live there, but then I didn't really know much about the several hundred people I worked with, which ones came from money or had wealthy spouses. The driver pulled up to a large three-storey home with eight cars lined up in the driveway. Every window in the house was lit and I could see costumed people inside talking and laughing as they sipped champagne. "M" had said they were having some friends over, but I hadn't been expecting THIS.

I was reaching for my backpack in the backseat when the driver said, "I'll take that," and snatched it from my hand before climbing out of the car and heading towards the house. I followed him up the driveway and into the house where we were met by no less than a dozen people. Each of the guests were wearing small masks over their eyes so that only their mouths were visible, and they were all dressed as though they'd just come from a night out on the town. I quickly saw that I wasn't the only party favor present at the party though.

Through the mingling crowd I spotted a man wearing only a thong down on his hands and knees being used as a coffee table. Another "gurl" like me passed by carrying a silver tray of drinks and we exchanged a quick but knowing glance.

The driver snapped his fingers in front of my face to get my attention and gestured for me to follow him. I was actually glad because some of the guests were beginning to notice me and whispering to one another. The driver led me into the kitchen where half a dozen more guests were gathered around the island watching as a masked guest fucked a naked young man with a wine bottle as he held him down on the counter by the back of his neck. The man doing the fucking looked at me and smiled as if to say, "You're next."

The driver opened a door and led me down into the basement and into a beautiful rec room equipped with a full bar and a pool table where 4 male guests were playing 8 ball. Upon seeing me, they stopped playing and looked me up and down in a way that made me feel like nothing more than a piece of meat to a bunch of starving men.

"Who's this?" one of them asked of the driver.

"This one is Krissy . . . the one M was talking about."

Upon hearing this, their eyes went wide and they laid down their pool cues. "OHHHHH," one of them said, excitedly. "I've been looking forward to seeing what the fuss is all about!" Then to me, "Nice to meet you, slut. we've been waiting for you."

"Remember," the driver warned, "Have your fun, but if you fuck her you'll be answering to M."

"Aww shucks," the man scoffed, raising a laugh from the other three. "I guess we'll have to settle for that hot little mouth of hers."

The driver shrugged, indifferent. "Do what you want, it'll be your ass paying for it after."

The man held up his palms and shook his head, "No THANKS."

Even M's guests were afraid . . . which made ME more afraid than I already was.

He led me into an unusually large bathroom and tossed my backpack onto the counter. The shower had a thick glass wall and was large enough to fit half a dozen people. There were tiled benches on both sides and there were at least 8 shower nozzles to hit you from every direction, sort of a people-version of a car wash, and there were handles bolted to the walls beside the benches.