Involuntary Sissy Pt. 04

The thing that most people don't appreciate about total surveillance is how time consuming it is. When I'm not with my boyfriend there are plenty of things I have to do other than watch his every move. Even reviewing camera footage or tracking data at increased speed takes up a lot of time.

That's why I try to prevent him from going out too much without me. This was a battle when I first moved into his flat. He tried to maintain his old habits but I found that there was a simple solution that we had already used to overcome his reluctance to letting me have control in bed. It's amazing what you can achieve with a bit of girly clothing.

It began with him wearing women's clothes for sex, which I persuaded him to do on our first date with delightful results.

He claimed not to like it then and can still be a bit surly about it, but he knows that putting on a bit of lingerie is harmless enough for him and essential if he is to earn my trust. I insist upon it, partly because it makes him so docile but also because I have needs. Even though my love for him is all-consuming, I do not feel entirely fulfilled unless I humiliate him regularly. I derive my greatest pleasure from humiliating men and don't want to stop just because I'm in a loving relationship.

He has never admitted it, but I am sure he feels the same.

When we began living together, after a bit of persuasion on my part, he wanted to go out without me from time to time to see female friends. I said that this was fine so long as he wore knickers under his clothes to protect him from temptation. He argued against it, but had no answer to my question about why it bothered him if he wasn't going to take off his trousers anyway. I made up a story about how one of my friends put her boyfriend in a chastity device. Surely a pair of pink knickers was preferable to that? Besides, I said, he knew that I couldn't resist him in satin. "Think about what I'll be doing to you when you get home."

I offered a similar incentive to getting him to wear women's clothing around the house. I thought that it was better to tell him a white lie about wanting to have an extended sexual roleplay rather than the bland truth that it would keep him at home, where I can more easily keep tabs on him.

He has a peg by the front door of our flat on which I hang the outfit I expect him to wear. If I'm busy (which I often am if I haven't had enough time to review the webcam footage of him at work or at his preferred drinking spots) then it can be as simple as his peignoir. It's a cute two-piece outfit of a long satin chemise and frilly chiffon gown in light pink that never fails to draw a matching blush to his cheeks no matter how many times he wears it.

If I have more time then I put together something more sophisticated. He has a large enough wardrobe of dresses, blouses, skirts and underwear for there to be plenty of variety, but it's important to keep it fresh. He pretends to dislike it when I buy him new things, but he acknowledges that it's preferable to me taking him shopping so that he can choose.

I have recently taken to scouring websites devoted to second-hand clothing to find him cheap but sexy items for him to try. If they are pieces of underwear then I have the parcels sent to his office so he can put them on before he comes home.

It was a routine that contented me, was beneficial for him and could have carried on indefinitely as far as I was concerned. He had other ideas.

It happened last night, when I had gone all-out and bought him a Little Bo Peep costume. Whether Bo Peep really wore white stockings or a dress so short that the suspenders were exposed when she sat down I cannot say, but on him it looked adorable, especially when I fastened a bow in the ribbons hanging from his bonnet. I had bought the outfit on an auction website from a woman who had worn it on a hen night. There were a few little tears that suggested her overexuberance, but it worked well enough for our purposes.

It made him so meek that I started to fondle him on the sofa, and it was then that he popped the question. He said that he wanted to show me that I could trust him in ways that didn't involve him dressing up. If he agreed to marry me, he asked, could I let him go back to wearing men's clothing whenever he wanted?

I was overwhelmed. He had finally made the commitment I knew he would, and it was tempting to agree. But, I explained, I would still need to see his little blushes. "I want you to be my maid in the living room, cook in the kitchen and whore in the bedroom," I said.

He said that he was prepared to make concessions.

I continued to fondle him as we spoke. "You know how much you love wearing knickers," I said. "I'd still want you to wear those. And what about your peignoir? Would you still wear that for me at night?"

He was in a state of bliss as I stroked him through the pale blue fabric of his Bo Peep knickers, which the previous owner claimed not to have worn but which came without any tags. I wondered if she had had as much pleasure in them.

"Would you do that for me?" I asked again. I rubbed him with both hands, skittering my fingers over his balls while I caressed the tip of his straining cock.

He mumbled that he would.

"And for special occasions we could still do role plays, couldn't we? I promise not to make you my maid more than once or twice a month."

We kissed for a few minutes. I told him to keep stroking while I fetched my strap-on dildo.

When I returned he had bent himself over the arm of the sofa, his knickers round his ankles.

"No," I told him, "I want to see your face."

I arranged him on the seat with his legs raised and splayed. My lubricated dildo slipped gently into him, producing a wince of discomfort on Bo Peep's face.

"You'll dress up for role plays on the first and third Friday of every month," I told him. The sight of his humiliation was making me too assertive, but sometimes a woman can't help herself. I took his cock in my hand, rolling my moistened palm over it as I slid into him.

"You'll wear knickers every day and a nightdress every night. You can hide it from everyone else, but you'll always be my princess."

I thrust in and out freely, gazing at his upturned face. "Say it," I said. "Say you'll do it."

He closed his eyes. He whispered that he would.

"Say you'll be my princess."

He groaned.

"Say you'll love wearing your knickers, even on our wedding day."

He opened his eyes, perhaps in shock, perhaps to plead. My hand kneaded him towards his point of no return. He was aching now for me to make him come. I cajoled him again. "Especially on our wedding day."

He panted but did not answer.

"Just say yes, darling," I told him. "All you have to do is say yes. You can do that, can't you?"

He gasped with pleasure. I slowed my hand but pushed harder with my hips. "Yes?" I said. "My Little Bo Peep? Hmm?"

I knew that a few more strokes would bring his orgasm. I wanted it to be a memorable one. "That's it, sweetheart. Let me take care of everything. The only thing you have to do is say, 'yes'."

His gave his assent so quietly I could barely hear it between his sighs, but he repeated it louder as his surge began. Yes, he cried. Yes, yes, yes.

I watched him come in delight and relief, leaning back to ensure that the full beauty of it would be caught by the camera I had mounted in the ceiling.

"I love you," I said as his pleasure slowly subsided. I reached under his chin with a finger and lightly tickled him through the ribbon. I could feel him clenching and unclenching on the dildo as aftershocks worked their way through him. Yes, he murmured, tears in his eyes. He loved me too.