Man Disciplines Sissy Ch. 06

I leaned against the bed for a moment, put one hand on the bed and tried to collect and steady myself. But he was waiting, and I could see annoyance begin to grow in his expression. He wanted his hands on me. I pushed off from the bed, and I went to him. Half dressed, wearing just my sandals, nylons, half-slip, bra, wig, and lipstick; I went and stood by the sofa where he sat, next to his left knee.

"Sit on Ray's lap, honey," he said, and patted his knees. He twirled a finger, instructing me with a gesture. I turned, and by reflex slid my hand behind me to smooth the slip, but he interrupted my reflex.

"Uh-uh," he said, shaking his head. Ray pushed my hand away, I felt him grasping my hips, and he pulled me back into his lap. I made a little surprised noise. "Just those pretty little panties, eh honey? Just a little tight pink satin between your pretty ass and my lap." I sat, but he had rucked the slip up a few inches, so that only the thin tight satin of my panties was between my bottom and his lap. He'd guided me so I sat side-saddle on his lap, and my feet were on the carpet in my high heel sandals.

"And I did enjoy reminding you, last night, what a needy, useful, and naughty little sissy you are, whether you're in a pretty little dress or a tight little swim suit."

He was already erect. When I sat in his lap, I could feel him through my panties. His cock, a long hard ridge in his slacks and underpants, pointed straight up at his navel, its elongated bulge pushing up against the side of my leg and my left buttock. And, he noticed my little adjustment, shifting on his lap; he knew I felt his erection.

"Mmm, yes honey. Er, Lance. You feel that, don't you? Ray's penis, already hard, because I've been thinking about this pretty little sissy ass of yours. Yes, I can tell." He grasped me low around my waist with both his hands, taking some of my weight, then slowly adjusting himself under me, shifting my bottom further onto his lap, more straight on. Now I could feel his shaft fitting itself to the groove between my bottom cheeks, fat and elongated and partially erect under his clothes, and he twitched and grunted a little as the pleasure of close contact caused his involuntary reaction.

Ray held my waist, lifting and jostling me on his lap as he slid his cock against my bottom, my tight pink satin panties. It made me feel small, again, because of the ease with which he could lift and adjust my position sitting on his lap. I moaned, feeling his cock sliding along the crack between my cheeks, kept at bay by the thin micro fiber satin. I could even feel the swell where his knob pushed out his pants. He slid a hand, his left, up inside my cream-white satin half-slip as he continued to slowly twist and thrust his hips under me, and that big warm hand pushed its way up between my thighs. At first I tried to keep my knees together, just instinctively, as his hand invaded, but his strength and natural assertiveness edged my thighs apart.

While I sat on his lap feeling his hand slide up inside my slip, Ray's other hand slid up from my waist. From the waist up, I only had a bra on. I felt his fingers touching my side, my ribs, my shoulder blades, the back of my neck. His big right hand, his dominant hand, cupped around the back of my neck as his other palm parted my thighs and slid over the front of my tight, pink satin panties. I twitched and gasped, trying to catch my breath.

I felt his lips close to my ear, as his hands gripped me firmly from top, literally, to bottom.

"Lana was interesting. Lana is daddy's hot little girly sissy," he whispered into my left ear. "Lana seems confused sometimes but deep inside, she knows her place. But Lance can be quite interesting too, as I found out last evening." His hand slid upward from the back of my neck, I felt his fingers twine up into my auburn curls. And then I felt air, fresh on the back of my neck, my head. Ray had pulled my wig off.

"Yes, I guess there's something I like about Lance, too," he whispered.

I felt his breath on the side of my neck, and cock under me, rigid, throbbing, twitching up through his clothing.

"Lance is a little more reluctant, resistant," he whispered. "He thinks he wants to be manly, a real man. I have to make him my dirty little sissy. Like I did last night. He needs some direction, correction. Some extra persuasion, a push, a bit more...disciplinary convincing, doesn't he? Like he got this afternoon?"

I whimpered, and twitched my head, my ear, away from his whispering lips. But he held me firmly, one hand up my skirt and the other tight on the back of my head.

"Don't you, Lance?" His whisper was rough with his lust, his hips even strained a little under me as I twisted and squirmed on his lap.

"Mnawwwohhh," I moaned, trying to say no, or yes, I don't know he just made me moan. I tried but couldn't find a word, an answer, not yet.

He tossed my wig onto the bed with the rest of Lana's outfit. "This way, I have a little bit of both, a halfway point. Half Lance, half Lana," he whispered to my left ear.

He patted the back of my head, and then he opened his palm and spread his fingers, tightening his grip there. "Or, like when I hold your head, sort of like this, holding you still while I push my cock slowly into your pretty little sissy mouth. I think, secretly, you like that, too. Hmm?"

I moaned and inhaled a long, deep breath up through my nose. It came out like a shudder through my mouth when I breathed out.

Ray's hands moved again. I felt his fingers sliding out from between my thighs. He was pulling his hand out from up inside my slip, and the other hand came down off my head and neck, and then both his hands were firmly gripping my waist again. Lifting, pushing. Something about the way his strong, big hands clasped me there, at the waist, made me feel so feminine suddenly, so fully under his spell, his power. Manhandled. My knees flexed and touched together as I tightened my legs and shifted my perch on his knees, and I gasped for another rough breath, and then his strong arms tensed and I felt him lifting me off his lap.

"Stand up, honey," he said, no longer whispering. A command, his voice soft, but his tone firm.

I stood. I had to grope a little for my balance, getting my legs under me, my elbows bent at my sides, as I felt my half-slip drape itself back down over my thighs, my bottom. He pulled me back slightly, getting me to step my feet apart a little, so that I was straddling his knees, facing away from him, standing in my high heels, his strong arms steadying me.

His right hand slid down from my waist, moving firmly, decisively, and palmed my bottom through my slinky satin slip.

"Yes," he said. "Mmm hmm, yesss." Somehow his voice stretched and rose as he spoke, the tone and sound matching the motion of his hand groping and feeling my soft, springy bottom. And I twisted and twitched as he grunted while feeling me up. I felt his other hand, lower, and I looked down, and saw the white slinky satin sliding up again. He was pushing my half-slip up with his left hand, and then that other big palm, fingers spread, followed my slip, moving under it's hem, sliding up across my right bottom cheek over my thin satin panties.

"But you did well, for daddy," Ray said, and his fingers slid up under the lace trim around my right thigh. "Buying your pretty new outfits." My body reacted to feeling his warm fingers sliding up into my panties. A ring of muscles below my scrotum tightened, and then loosened, involuntarily, and both my knees pressed inward as far as they could go, squeezing against the outsides of his legs.

We're alone in my hotel room, I'm half dressed as a girl, waist slightly bent, straddling his knees. Ray's sitting on the middle of the sofa, his left hand holding my slip pushed up out of his way, his other hand palming and groping my bottom through my pink satin panties, left cheek, right cheek, then between them, then inside, up, in, and under the tight stretchy satin. His fingers slide back out, his hand reaches between my upper thighs and becomes a claw, fingers and thumb, it gropes and gooses, and then firmly closes over my little pantied ball-sack, tightens on my testicles, and I moan again.

He grunts, amused. The hand slides out from between my thighs, returns to my bottom, palming and squeezing my plump ass, one side and then the other, and back again. He lets go of my slip, the hem falls and he's fondling my ass under the satin with one hand, and I become aware that with the other hand he is touching his own manhood, pawing it through his pants, adjusting it, freeing it up, as he likes to do.

"Hold your slip up, honey," he says, as he leaves off fondling his own erection to push my hem up again with both his big, warm hands. "I like to see," he says. And I reach down, to do as I'm told, both hands trembling but finding the hem of my half-slip and lifting, then holding it up. Now he's fondling my bottom with his right hand, and himself with his left hand, as I bend over slightly, straddling his knees, holding my cream-white satin-slip skirt out of the way for him.

Glancing down, feeling his hand squeezing and grasping my bottom, I feel my reflexes start to fire. I can see his arm moving, feel his fingers and palm sliding over my panties, and then fingers work up inside my panties again, I moan, he's fingering way up between my thighs again, and then sliding back out and down, up again, palming and groping my tight pink panties on each side of my bottom, and I can see his other hand stroking himself, his hard straight shaft pushing up that solid ridge of cloth in the front of his slacks, pushing the flaps open a little. I can see, briefly, a metallic gleam of his zipper.

When I see his zipper, the soft yellow gleam of it, I think about what rests there under it, pushing up his slacks in a long, tented bulge. Those reflexes again, my body moves by itself, I can feel my hips responding, following his hand, pushing to it, bringing more of my bottom to his palm, then away, and I feel my voice find itself, and I moan quietly. "Yes," my lips whisper.

"What's that?" says Ray. My hips move in a little circle, spasm in the middle when his voice interrupts. I feel my face flushing, getting red, warm. His hands continue their aggressive fondling.

"Yes," I gasp, repeating it, but it's little more than a croak and I try to swallow, but my throat feels so dry. My knees are a little weak; his hands are getting to me. Working on me. Handling and toying with my ass. He's working on me, sitting back there while I straddle his knees, behind me, below me, so I can't see everything, but I can visualize what his hands are doing, feel them working on my bottom, playing with my panties, my ass, my inner thighs, fingers poking and teasing up into the crack of my ass.

"Oh honey," Ray whispers. "What a hot little sissy. You can barely talk. But you want it. I can tell. Look at you. Squirming and panting in your hot little slip and pretty pink bikini panties, hips giving you away. Needy, hungry. Wanting it."

My ears detect a low, mechanical noise, kind of a ripping sound, and I know right away it's the sound of a zipper. A slacks' zipper. And I hear his breathing, I can hear his breath, the grunting desire drenched in it, air coming rough out of his chest through his teeth, and I glance down, back, behind me, to see what he's doing.

Ray notices me, sees me looking. He chuckles, and I feel my face blush again. "Yes, baby," he said. "I'm unzipping my pants, and you know what that means, don't you hon?"

It's like I'm in a trance. I don't reply, but I feel a high little whimper escape from my lips. Hearing it, the sound of my own voice surprises me. My voice sounds so feminine, its vocalization so primal and reflexive, and I'm immediately ashamed, but excited too. I watch his fingers unzipping his pants, sliding the zipper down, all the way down. I watch those fingers slide up, calmly but efficiently moving to the belt, unlacing it, pulling the end and unbuckling it, loosening everything up. That little tinkle noise of the metal buckle. Both hands push at the cloth, pushing then pulling the flaps on each side of the zipper, opening and loosening his slacks. Ray raises his hips, to clear his slacks, and he pushes them down with what seems like some urgency, clearing his hips and revealing his cotton-covered manhood, and his breathing, still rough, becomes a vocal sound, he's speaking again as he relaxes his hips, lets his weight back down, and leans back on the sofa. Then his right hand is back on my ass as his other is still working on his pants, one side, then the other, working them down his thighs to his knees...

"Look what you've done," he rasps. His left hand continues to squeeze and palm my bottom as his dominant right hand is still working his slacks down, to where his knees are bent, out of his way. I look, doing as I'm told, and I see his cock pushing up his underpants, that ridge now tenting the stretchy gray cotton of his boxer briefs. He gooses me again, and I whimper and try to breathe smoothly, try to get control back, but I can't. I'm gasping, watching him, feeling his hands. "Your cute sissy ass, how did you get this...this woman's ass, baby?"

He has worked his pants down close to his knees, bunched them there around where my legs are straddling his legs. Ray doesn't relax, but instead his left hand quickly comes back up for his shorts, his gray cotton boxer briefs, and he gets a thumb under the elastic waistband and works them down, too. I watch, fascinated, seeing his cock revealed, finally, suddenly there, and it moves and twitches, a living, desiring thing. After pushing and sliding his underwear down, that same hand comes back up to rest next to his cock, swollen, pointing straight up at his navel, still moving and swelling. His scrotum, too, softly hairy, pinkish red under the down, still not settled, its wrinkled skin moving and contracting below his penis as if it has its own lizard brain.

I realized I had been watching Ray, focused on him getting his manhood out, while at the same time his other hand was already pulling down my own elastic waistband, yanking my stretchy pink panties down.

I glanced at his face. Ray was intent, his expression firm and focused. Busy with his hands, both of them. Pulling down his own boxer briefs, and my brand-new, tight, fresh bikini panties, sliding them down at the same time. "Yes, this hot ass," he mutters as his right hand gropes his scrotum and then strokes his hard, twitching cock, and his left hand slides up from where he's yanked my panties halfway down my thighs, and his palm and fingers grab my left buttock, and I jump and twitch even though I'm watching his every move, and he stops fondling himself suddenly and both his hands are on my bottom, bared now, he feels it, stroking it, squeezing it, manhandling it, and slowly his hands move inward, groping and squeezing but closer now to the darker place, between my cheeks, sneaking briefly into to the crack between my buttocks. Now I'm noticing his thumbs, especially his thumbs, feeling them push up and in, more and more, starting to invade my crack as he grasps and squeezes, thumbs invading a little further with each round of his constant, repeating rhythm.

His hands really get a rhythm now, with his little grunts and words, and his hands squeeze and pull my buns apart, and slide down and up, and a strong, probing thumb quickly invades a little between my cheeks and I moan and he grunt and grunt again and I involuntarily straighten, unbending my waist, my hips jolt and move away, he pulls me back, squeezes my ass and pulls it apart again and the other thumb invades this time as the other palm pushes my two ass cheeks apart and the ball of his thumb almost touches my pucker, and he grumbles and gives my ass a little smack with his flattened right palm while his other hand is stroking his cock and hefting his balls again. Then while I'm thinking about his right hand smacking my ass, making me jump, his left hand slides quick probing fingers right between my cheeks, his thumb brushing right up the middle again, making me gasp as the ball of his thumb finds that central spot of tenderest softness, the wrinkled ring. My anus. Then it's not the ball of his thumb. He points his thumb and I feel it sliding around the ring. I gasp a quick breath.

I try not to move but somehow my hips begin to respond to the work of his hands, finding the twists in his rhythm, sometimes I moan and my hips rise slowly, or I twitch, feeling my bouncy bottom flesh squeezed and pushed a certain way, as Ray uses his big, warm hands, his strength, his thumbs and palms and fingers, all over and under and around my bottom and my inner and upper thighs.

His left thumb and fingers shift then, and he's using them to part my bottom, one handed. He spreads me, and I startle and moan, my hips twist, and I feel the other thumb finding that spot again, and it moves up and down, and then he arches a knuckle, I can't see it but somehow I know, maybe because he's suddenly holding his breath or something, but I know he is, and I feel the point of his thumb there.

Yes right there.

"We have to loosen this up, honey," Ray says, as the tip of his thumb slides around the rim, and around again, then pauses, poised.

"Yes," Rays says, and I feel his thumb point, and touch and seek, centering. Then quickly a push, and the tip of Ray's thumb pokes briefly into my sphincter.

I'm still holding my slip up, out of the way, for Ray, still bent slightly, panties down around my thighs, fully exposed.

But now as his thumb enters me a sudden reflex makes my right hand drop my slip, and I reach back, as I gasp. "No," my voice a squeak.

My hand found Ray's right wrist, grasped it instinctively, interrupting his concentration, and he reacted.

He slapped my hand away. "Hold that slip up hon," he said, irritated. "Don't do that again." He gives my ass a good firm smack, then another. Then his thumb returns between my cheeks.

I moaned, he was twisting the tip of his thumb, moving it, working it back and forth a little over my anal ring. I bent over a little more, my knees trembling.

"Hold still, just like that," he said. He stopped fondling my ass and leaned forward, both hands reaching down where his pants and shorts were bunched above his knees. Unpredictable as he tends to be, I thought he was pulling them back up, but no. He found a front pocket, dug in. He found something in the pocket, and then pushed his pants, bunching them down, around his bent knees again. He had a half smile on his face, that grimly amused look he got sometimes. I found myself clenching, involuntarily tightening my bottom, when I saw that grin.

What was he doing?

His hands were back on my ass. My hips moved and I emitted a high moan, anticipating a grope, or a grasp, something he didn't do. "Slut," he said.

"What? Ray, what are you?--" I whispered, but he interrupted me. "Shh--" he said. His big hands grasped both cheeks of my bottom and he parted them with his thumbs, and I suddenly felt very exposed, humiliated, manipulated. I could feel my bottom twitching, my hips jerking, as I gasped an uneven breath.

"Hold still, dammit," Ray growled. But I couldn't quite get steady. "Fine, then," he said, and I felt him let go of my ass, and his left hand thrust then, quickly, down between my thighs and he groped my whole manhood and then that same hand roughly grasped my ball sack. I didn't know what his right hand was doing. He hummed a soft grunt, then stopped. I felt my scrotum pulled back, between my thighs. All was still, very still, for a brief moment that somehow felt loaded for something to happen. Something I wouldn't like.