Man Disciplines Sissy Ch. 07

Nodding, with a quiet "Mnn hmm," He widened his stance by moving his feet a few further inches apart. His sleeves rolled to his elbows, he doubled the belt and, with the buckle and opposite end firmly in his right palm, shortened its length by taking one full wrap around his fist. His fingers and thumb curled into a fist clutched around the accumulated leather and buckle. My breath pattern accelerating, I looked away.

I pulled my lips into my mouth so the trembling wouldn't show and lowered my head. I leaned forward a little, and I felt my eyes darting, but I didn't look at Daddy.

"Why aren't you looking at me," he said.

Without moving my head, and not wanting to, I turned my eyes and looked at him. He was standing very still, holding the belt. There was energy waiting, poised in his elbow, his wrist, his shifted shoulders. But it was coiled, static energy. Animal energy.

Suddenly, I shuddered. The air stumbled out of my lungs and rasped back in as emotions took over my breathing, making it wild, unmanaged. I whimpered.

"Just when I think we're making progress..." he didn't finish. I sensed somehow, his flashing anger. His body uncoiled, and I heard the swoosh of the leather, felt it, the harsh, searing sting, on and through my panties. The sting as the leather lashed my ass.

Then again. I stifled a scream, my breathing stopped. And again. Again. Again. He was swinging hard, putting his shoulder, his hips into it, elbow extended, and an extra snap of his wrist. Daddy spanked me with his belt, and each sound smack on my bottom was like a double slap, but sharper, higher than the sound of a flat hand, and because of the loop of the belt slapping on itself, and on my panties, my bottom, all at the same time. The sound was higher and quieter and tighter than his hand had been, and the hurt was sharper, and much more concentrated. I could already feel the heat of the stinging welts the belt was leaving on my skin through my panties.

"See, honey," daddy said, lashing my quivering bottom every fourth, sometimes fifth word, his voice emphasizing that word as the belt swished and landed with its harsh, high-pitched snap. "I asked you a QUESTION, and you took it as an INSTRUCTION. A question DEMANDS an answer, not an ACTION." And sometimes his punishing swats were more...unpredictable, waiting a little longer, seventh word, ninth word, before swinging harder for a harsher sting, a louder landing. He continued; "Little things like THAT, well, you know by now, get on my NERVES. And when something GETS on my nerves...well, HONEY, let's just say I'm getting the feeling this is going to be a LONG, HARD WHIPPING." Yes, at the end, he broke his pattern, what pattern there was, and landed the belt, hard, three words in a row. After that, he was grimly silent, while the whistling leather continued to swing through the air, steadily landing on my bottom, and sometimes on my bare upper thighs. Tears gathered. Spilled. The weeping began.

My hips twisted as I drew a breath, trying to gather my voice energy to speak, to reply, but daddy didn't stop whipping me, and the repeated stingings, burning their way up from my bottom into my middle, robbed me of my ability to do anything but feel it, register and react to it, and squirm in the same rhythm of the belt. Daddy's rhythm. And daddy's rhythm, with the belt in his right hand, quickened to a fast count, a rhythm of one - and - two - and - three - and - four - and - five...

But it didn't stop at five. Several times, when he scolded me, or increased the speed or whipped harder, I cried out, or straightened up involuntarily, but daddy's swinging wrist and arm did not relent. Each stinging snap felt harsher, sounding more and more vicious, as I sobbed, begging between sobs for him to stop.

After perhaps a minute at that pace, daddy did finally stop the whipping. It had felt like ten minutes, and I leaned my head on my arms on the arm of the sofa, quietly sobbing.

"And that part, honey," Daddy said, "That solid minute of good, firm belt spanking was for your little temper tantrum in the cab, on the phone."

Daddy uncoiled the belt from his right hand. He set it on the sofa behind me.

I straightened up, kneeling on the cushion, still weeping into my hands, but I was beginning to recover.

He touched my ass, palming it. I winced. He grunted, and I could tell he was thoroughly feeling my bottom through my panties for how much heat they were transmitting, checking the result of his spanking, how hot and sore his belt had made my ass. He slid his hand up and gave the middle of my back a little, but firm, push. I had to take my face out of my hands and move them to the arm of the sofa to keep myself from sprawling.

Daddy gave my panties a little adjustment, snapping the elastic, then he went and paused a few steps away, next to the end of the sofa. For a few moments, he stood and looked at the end table that was right next to the sofa arm I was leaning on. He was talking too. While he talked, he took a step, bent at his waist and grasped the little end table next to the arm of the sofa, moving it out of his way, careful to keep the urn-shaped hotel lamp from falling off.

"You know, this morning, honey," he was saying as he busied himself re-arranging the furniture, "I was ordering my omelet down at the buffet, and I noticed a woman waiting for a waffle or something." The casual way he spoke was as if we were at work having a conversation by a water cooler or something, except that I was on my hands and knees on his hotel sofa, my eyes wet with tears, my brand-new dress rucked up and my new black panties on display.

Also, he was unzipping his fly. But he kept talking, relating to me his water-cooler wisdom.

"I noticed this one particular woman, even though there were already at least a dozen people in the breakfast area--eating, ordering, milling around, getting coffee, of course--and nobody was paying much attention to anything but their own business. The morning juice and coffee and eggs and oatmeal, Greek yogurt, whatever, getting ready for their day. And she was a nice-looking female, possibly not part of our conference--not dressed for work, I mean. She was casually dressed, in her thirties, nice figure. Wearing stretchy jeans, I think, well fitted, and a sweater."

His fly was unzipped, now, and he was fishing his penis out. He kept talking while he took out his penis, pulling the head through the slot in his boxer briefs, drawing its flaccid length out of the zipped-open fly of his dress slacks, like a man does when standing at a urinal in a men's room; wide stance, getting ready to relieve himself. He had been visibly erect inside his slacks while whipping me with his belt, but his erection had subsided while he was moving end tables and generally getting things re-arranged to his liking.

Holding his cock loosely in one hand, sticking straight out from his open zipper, he continued his description of the woman at breakfast.

"And while she waited, standing there, casual, I observed how she moved, even though she was really just waiting. She's holding her plate, and she's checking the toaster or whatever, and what I really noticed, without making it too obvious that I was watching her, was her hips, the feminine way she moved. She had wide hips, nice curves, a plump female ass. She looked good."

He held his cock in his left hand, standing in front of me as he told me of his morning's observations. Poised like a dog on its haunches, I watched. Coming closer, right up to the sofa arm, Ray put his right hand on my head. I was kneeling on the sofa, facing him, leaning over slightly, with my hands on the arm of the sofa, because he'd bent me over after checking the heat of my whipped bottom through my panties.

He kept talking, holding his half-limp cock inches in front of my face. "There's something about the way a woman's ass moves, just naturally, even when her body is just making small motions, little adjustments. Even just standing and waiting, like she was. The subtle way a feminine woman's hips roll makes the cheeks of her bottom shift, in a way a man notices. In this lady the roll and shift in her bottom and thighs was pronounced, even though she wasn't trying for attention. Just the simple act of getting something toasted, seeing her little feminine moves and gestures while she waited--shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her inner thighs sometimes touching, the way her curvy bottom moved while filling her tight jeans. I couldn't stop watching how her female body language rolled down from tiny little adjustments of her hips, her plump ass telling a story, making my mouth water."

Just then he paused in his storytelling, adjusting his feet a little closer to the sofa arm. His right hand slid from the top to the back of my head. I felt his palm firmly there. "Look at me, honey." I looked up at him, then I looked at his cock, its knob right in front of my face. Pointing it at my lips with his left hand, he pulled my head to it, and slid his cock into my mouth. The head of his cock pushed my lips apart. I opened my mouth and took it between my lips.

"But you know what?" he asked me as he pushed his cock into my mouth. He paused to watch my face, then continued. "While I was watching, her, and her pretty ass, I was thinking about your mouth," he whispered.

He was looking down at me, as he fed me his cock. My wet lips and mouth surrounded his knob and the upper part of his soft shaft. "It made me think of you, honey, while I was watching her ass," Ray repeated.

Ray's penis was soft, or almost soft, but only for a moment. The bulb head of his penis was warm between my tongue and the roof of my mouth, and it seemed to heat up, it got plumper as he put both his hands on my head. I felt him spread his eight fingers to the back of my head, with his palms just behind my ears. His thumbs grazed my temples.

"I was looking at her pretty, fat ass, honey, and I remembered the way your ass moved--" he said. Holding my head from moving, he leaned in a little, slowly pushing his hips forward so that his glans penis slid another inch past my soft lips, the bulb moving against the roof of my mouth. He interrupted himself, his musings, to direct me; "That's it, sissy, make it hard, honey, uh huh. Yes! Mmm that's good, nice tight lips, mmm hmm, yes." I slid my tongue across the underside of his tightening bulb, the tip of my tongue feeling for that little V-shaped ridge where his frenulum divided the sensitive underside of his glans. "Yes, tongue the knob like that..." He was becoming more erect, hard, inside my warm, wet mouth, and I was looking up at him, tasting some of his salty ooze, using the tip of my tongue to lick it from his warm pee slit, and sliding my tongue forward and back on the underside of his cock head and shaft.

He resumed relating his morning thoughts, how he thought of me that morning when getting his breakfast while looking at a woman's ass in her tight jeans.

"Yes honey, I thought about you," he said. He pulled back a little, then stopped with his knob between my lips again. He held still while he talked. "Watching that pretty lady, looking at the subtle roll of those hips, and how her plump woman's ass moved in her jeans, I remembered you, that first time you wore your dress for me," he said. He gave a little chuckle, and I also remembered. The dress, and our first meeting, too. I felt my face getting red and warm at the memory--the shame and excitement, that recurring mixture of emotions.

But now, holding my head, Ray slowly pushed his cock back into my mouth until the head reached the back of my tongue. He stopped, and remained very still, and his hips gave a little jerk, and his penis twitched too, and just as I was starting to gag on his throbbing cock, his hands, holding my head firmly, pushed my head back, lifting slightly. Slowly he backed his cock, fully hard now, out of my mouth. It popped from my wet lips, and I took a long, overdue breath.

"Good girl," he said. He rubbed the head of his cock on my left cheek, wetting my warm skin with his sticky precum and my saliva. A string of it stretched between his glans and my lips when he pulled back.

He looked down, turning my head up slightly so that his eyes held mine. I wiped my chin nervously. "You had your dress on for me," he said, "and the way you moved your hips to the music, actually barely moving, really just shifting your weight a little bit. You were so...effeminate. Like the woman at breakfast. You have it too. A feminine something. Without really trying, you do it just like the sexy woman, just like she did this morning in the buffet. Something almost indescribably feminine. You have the same kind of femme hips, the same internal wiring that puts an indescribable tease in your plump ass flesh, the way it moves when you walk, and stand in your high heels, and gesture, how your hips and bottom roll and shift. Drive a real man crazy."

Casually, Ray took his hand off my head, slowly grasping his glistening cock, thoughtfully giving it two, three soft strokes, fortifying its erection. Then he pushed it back into my mouth.

"I bared your girly bottom right then and there, gave you a good hard spanking, didn't I honey?" he said. I moaned with his cock twitching, pushed halfway into my mouth. "You deserved it too, honey. And you know it." I whimpered as he humiliated me, slowly fucking my mouth, guiding his pleasure with his hands on my head.

His hips gave another little twitch, and his hands relaxed, and Ray let go of my head, and settled his weight back on his heels, his hips pulled forward. Thinking he was changing the dynamic, or wanting me to do so, I tightened my lips around his girth, and perhaps a little too eagerly, slid my mouth down his shaft, and then up, and down again, increasing the pace of his blowjob.

"No, honey," he said. He pulled his cock out of my mouth and slapped me. Shocked, I glanced up at him, saw his expression, and immediately felt my face turning red, hot with the sting, and a new depth of humiliation. He saw my shame, I could tell from his face, and I sensed the little thrill that went through him; he twitched, his cock jutted upward. He grunted and slapped me again. I whimpered, and a sudden sob, a hiccup sob, escaped from my throat. I wanted to please him, but I seemed to always get something wrong.

After slapping me, he touched his cock. He took it in his hand, casually stroking it. It was erect, hard, shiny wet, and throbbing in front of my face. The cum slit was oozing slightly. He held his cock, poised it. His other hand guided my head, and he placed the tip of his cock against my lips again. He cocked his head to the side, to get a better view of his cock sliding between my lips. I opened up, and sobbed again, and he pushed his cock into my mouth. Ray returned both his hands to my head.

"Okay, baby," he said. "Pay attention, now." Holding my head firmly but gently, he demonstrated what he wanted while instructing me. "Slowly, now, honey," and he held still, his hard cock in my mouth, and slowly but deliberately guided my mouth down the full length of his cock. His hips moved, but subtly, only contributing accents to the overall rhythm. "That's it honey, yes, keep your lips tight like that. Mmmm..." He grunted, and just as slowly pulled my head back upward, gliding my lips and mouth back up the length of his shaft, at a very specific--and slow--pace, until my lips were clasped tight around the ridge just below his cock head, my tongue poised on his knob, my eyes directed up at his face, seeing his concentration, his dominance, his growing pleasure.

"That's what I want, baby," he said, holding my head right there. "Keep looking up at me, honey, good girl, while I show you again. Not too fast. This is how a good sissy gives good head. Nice and slow, like that. Follow what I'm doing. Feel my hands on your head, I want you to do it now, suck my cock like a good girl, but get your clues from my hands on your head, the little nudges I'm giving you." And he nudged my head up. I raised my eyes and looked up at him, as my mouth pulled off the head of his cock, popping up and off like it was a round purple lollypop. But right away, he nudged my head back down, just an inch or so, so that the knob of his penis pushed inside my lips again. And he held it there, paused, with the knob of his cock just inside my mouth, for part of a second. And then, again, up, and off. Very slowly, he guided me, popping the head of his cock in and out of my mouth, my tight lips. Each time with a wet little popping sound when the knob popped free of my tight, wet lips. Five, six, seven times, in and out.

"Yes, yes, honey," he whispered. "We'll call that the lollypop. But nice and slow." He repeated the lollypop another four, five times, enjoying the feeling of the head of his cock popping in and out of my mouth. Then Ray paused, holding still again, and holding my head.

"Good. But now, back to the long, slow slurp again." He slid his cock back into my mouth and resumed guiding my head, my mouth, and my lips slowly down and up most of the length of his 7" cock. On the downstroke, his knob touched the back of my throat, briefly, and on the upstroke, his knob popped briefly out of my wet, tight lips. Three, four, five times both ways, then he finally took his hands off my head, cocking his head to the side again to watch me. "Keep going," he said. "Slurp the whole thing slowly, up, yes, down, yes, in and out of that hot little sissy mouth of yours, lips tight, yes that's it, honey."

Without his hands guiding my head, I continued his slow rhythm, like a musical tempo, slowly pushing my lips down his shaft, looking up at him, then pulling my head up slowly up and off his cock. Lips sliding sloppy and wet, but tight and firm around his shaft. Tongue playing on the knob on the top strokes. Slowly pleasing him by sucking his cock the way he wanted.

He encouraged me, muttering little yesses and mnn hmm's, as my wet mouth slowly pleasured his erection, his throbbing hard penis jutting out and up from the open zipper of his dress slacks, me on my hands and knees in my matching black bra and panties set, and the nylons and sexy high heels, dress rucked up, ready for Daddy's next move.

Which came after five minutes more of slow cocksucking--including several repeats of The Lollipop, popping Ray's glans into and out of my tight-pursed lips--and plenty of the Long, Slow Slurp. And then, finally--after Ray moaned out loud a few times, and his when balls were starting to twitch--he stopped me.

"Oh yes, honey," he grunted. "Good girl. That was very nice. Okay. That's enough for now."

His hands on my head stopped me on one of my down strokes. "Stop right...there," he said. My lips were halfway down his shaft. I whimpered and raised my eyes, looking up at him. What now?

Daddy had that familiar hard, but half wicked look on his face. "I think it's time for a panty check, honey." I felt his right hand come off my head, slide down off my left shoulder.

I drew quick air in through my nose and pulled my mouth up off his cock. "No, Daddy!" I blurted, in a sudden panic. I reached down to stop him, then felt his big, masculine hand slide down across my belly, to the front of my tight silky panties. I was both too late, and too weak. It was just a reflex; I was no match for him, his size, his strength, his power. He cupped me firmly, his hand over the front and gusset of my panties, his fingertips digging in under my scrotum. I gasped. His palm found my hard little cock, its upright shaft pushing out the front of my silky black panties.

Daddy laughed. "No?" "No daddy?" I moaned as his fingers closed over the tight, small, but erect ridge sticking up straight in my tight little panties. "Of course Daddy inspects! Daddy needs to know a sissy's reactions. What her body tells him. Sometimes a sissy won't admit her true feelings, won't tell her daddy her...innermost emotions, her secrets, her dirty little desires..."