The Seven Dressing Sins: Pride

I'm not really sure how I ended up like this, but what I can tell you is the spark that lit the fire was three little words. No, not those, although Becky told me how much she loved me all the time.

No, the three that pushed me onto a gentle downward slope of depravity and decadence made up one of Becky's favourite phrases.

"Make me proud."

Whenever she said it, I felt a warm fuzzy glow spread through me – I wanted to make her proud. I wanted her to be proud of me, especially to her friends. I had a good career, I earned a lot of money, and I could hold my head up in front of her judgemental circle of close friends. They were pretty catty, if truth be told, and I didn't really like their endless moaning and griping about other people.

And eventually, that's what led to this humiliating orgasm. Pride? It's hard to have any pride when you're dressed in sissy girly frilly pink, taking it from both ends in front of an eager audience.

But let me start again. I'd been going out with Becky for two years, and my life had changed beyond all recognition. I was no longer the hard-drinking wild party animal I had been, and my personal circumstances reflected that. My pay didn't run out in a bar in the middle of the month, and I was spending enough time at home to cook rather than dial for pizza.

The changes were down to her, frankly. Left alone, I'd never have given up the ludicrously hedonistic lifestyle I'd built up. But Becky was a very old-fashioned sort of woman, and perhaps she thought she was saving me somehow.

For such a staid sort of person, she managed to surprise me in bed. She refused penetration because we weren't married. But putting that out of bounds meant she became extremely inventive when it came to getting me off. Becky knew her body intimately and was forever finding ways to make me cum.

She disdained tights, claiming stockings were more hygienic. I have always loved women in stockings, and Becky's pronouncement one night when I discovered she was wearing black fishnet holdups under her jeans had me gasping with desire. That was the night I persuaded her my mouth on her clitoris was anything but disgusting.

Masturbation and toys weren't unusual, too, and at first I couldn't understand how she could be so sexual without having sex. Perhaps it was the liberation of being as lustful and naughty as she could be, within the bounds of our marriage.

It began as something of a joke between us – every time we started getting horny, Becky would say "Make me proud honey", and I'd be more turned on than ever. I guess it's a sort of submissive streak I'd never discovered – the idea that Becky would feel a previously forbidden arousal when we did something particularly nasty. She'd tie me to the bed and rub her clit over my mouth while she lapped at my stiff cock.

One night she had me strapped to a dining chair. She wore a black waspie with black seamed stockings, and knelt between my spread legs. She slid her fingers up and down my erection, looked me straight in the eyes and said:

"Cum for me, love. Make me proud."

The orgasm levelled me for a while, and as we lay intertwined on the floor later, she asked me whether I was disappointed we weren't having full sex.

"No, of course not. This is just great."

"Do you fantasise while I'm bringing you off?"

I hesitated just a second before denying I was thinking of anything but her. Becky giggled.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to be upset. We all have fantasies. Some of mine are pretty wild. I just wondered about yours."

She wriggled against me, turning onto her side to press her soft breasts against me. I gazed into her eyes, and the glinting exuberance in them made me hug her harder.

Her hand slipped between my legs, and she stroked my soft cock. It twitched and began stirring under her ministrations.

"I think someone has fantasies they're not telling me. Probably really dirty, embarrassing, ones."

Her hand continued stroking, and I was suddenly hot and throbbing. The tip nudged against her toned stomach.

"It's a pity you can't tell me about them. Think of the fun we could have together. Perhaps we should act out one of mine first, and then you can decide whether you can tell me yours."

I swallowed hard as I imagined what she might have in mind. As it was, I was very very wide of the mark.

She laughed softly and kissed me.

"No news is good news, so I guess your silence means you want to. Say it, baby. Make me proud."

Her teasing fingers made my mind up for me. I gasped a desperate yes.

Becky released my length, and rolled away.

"Good – tonight it is then!"

She leapt up and started getting dressed.

"I have some things to buy," she said, "You jump in the shower and use my body scrub, the strong-smelling one. Oh, and wash and condition your hair. It's just long enough, but you don't look after it properly. I want you clean and gorgeous when I get back. Make me proud!"

And with that, she was gone. Leaving me alone with my deflating penis.

When she arrived back a couple of hours later, I was still in the bedroom staring at my hairless body in the mirror. But the shock I felt about losing my body hair to the body scrub was overwhelmed by Becky's reaction.

She squealed and leapt towards me, hugging me firmly as she dropped a number of shopping bags on the floor.

"I love you like this!" she said, stroking my sensitive skin with her slender fingers. Her eyes drank in my nudity, and she sat back on the bed, reaching for the bags.

"First this, hun," she said, reaching into the bag and pulling out a black package and handing it to me. The thin paper was tied with a pink ribbon. I pulled, and a wisp of lacy pink slipped to the floor.

"Don't drop it, put it on!" Becky urged.

It was a suspender belt, made of incredibly sheer lace and some sort of organza. A ridiculously feminine garment, so delicate it was barely there. I looked up at Becky quizzically, but she halted my protest before I could utter a syllable.

"Baby, I'll be very proud of you if you can just do as you're told, but for now I think I'll gag you so you can't give me any arguments."

She reached back inside bag and pulled out a pink, satin and velvet strip. I stood meekly as she stretched it across my lips, and tied it tightly at the back.

"Now make me proud, baby," she purred, "Try the suspender belt on."

I gulped back my reservations and wrapped the cool lace around me. I struggled for a moment with the clasp, but managed to slide it into place. Eight garters dangled around my legs, slipping against my thighs as I moved to look in the mirror.

Becky was already rummaging for the next package. She opened it for me and held up two pink stockings. They were exquisitely made, with deep lace tops, a reinforced heel and toe, and a seam running all the way up to a keyhole cut-out at the back.

Becky had to help me slip the gossamer silk up my legs and clip them to the suspenders. I watched in the mirror as she adjusted the tension on the garters, tugging the stockings closer to my smooth legs.

Her hand stroked the hosiery that contained my emasculated calves, and I heard her breathing quicken. She rose and returned to the bags with a slight flush to her cheeks, and I realised this was really turning her on.

My cock twitched as I started to join her in helpless arousal. This felt so naughty, so forbidden and... well, simply wrong. But the knowledge that Becky was more than fine with what was happening turned my shame and embarrassment into a sudden, hot fire in my loins.

Loins that soon found themselves sporting see-through pink knickers. They were French-cut and matched the rest of my fuschia outfit. Layers of ruffles on the back teased my buttocks. A round, lace circle at the back framed my arsehole, while a soft lace panel on the front hid an opening for my erection to peep through.

"Mmmm... I think someone likes their soft pink pretties!" Becky breathed in my ear as she caressed my groin with the palm of her hand.

"Just a couple more things now, baby – make me proud!" she chuckled. I was in no state to refuse as she had me step into a pair of high-heeled pink sandals. I tottered unsteadily on them, and Becky didn't help my precarious balance when she bent over and flicked her tongue over the head of my cock.

But the coup-de-grace was the nightgown. Such a wispy piece of sheerness, it could have been a cobweb. If cobwebs were pink, trimmed with lacy tiers and open at the front. It was barely there, yet as it moved in the breeze it enveloped me in whispers of femininity.

Becky led me to the bed and had me lie on my back, spread-eagled. I knew she liked to tease and so the blindfold was less of a surprise than it could have been. Her pink satin sleep mask cut off my vision, and I felt rather than saw her tie my ankles and wrists into the restraints that ran under our bed. And although I didn't see her spritz me with perfume, I could certainly smell it in the air.

I'd been silent throughout, apart from the odd moan as Becky gently teased me with her fingertips, lips and tongue. She was expert at finding an exposed inch of my skin and making me quiver as she breathed onto me before planting a lingering wet kiss onto my screaming nerve endings.

She gagged me when my animalistic grunts and groans grew too loud.

"Just nod your head if you're enjoying this, lover," she said, "Let me know you're into it..."

I nodded as hard as I could.

"Good girl. I'm going to record this so I can masturbate to it later, hun. Imagine that – me fingering myself and rubbing my clit with a vibrator while I watch you on my phone. I'll have this little memory with me all day, every day – so make me proud!"

My cock thickened at the image, and Becky reached into the knickers to grasp it and release it through the front opening. I felt her tug the ribbons on the front, and a drawstring closed around my girth. She tied the ribbon and ran her hand along my quivering shaft.

But it was her mouth, not her hands, that made me gasp. The lips I loved to kiss tenderly wrapped themselves around the tip of my penis before gripping tightly and sliding downwards. I moaned as her nose touched my pubic bone and her mouth enveloped me fully. I almost came as she slid upwards just as evenly.

She knew I couldn't do anything to hurry my orgasm, bound to our bed, and she took her time with me. Varying her rhythm and pressure, she treated me to a blowjob that had me all but crying with frustration. Again and again she brought me right to the edge, before releasing my cock from her mouth and rubbing her wet tongue into my balls.

Her slim hand wrapped itself around the base of my dick as she moved up the bed to whisper into my ear.

"Do you like this, love? Is this making you all hot and bothered? Lying on our bed, both of us dressed in beautiful lingerie, wanking and sucking?"

I moaned into the gag, my face contorted with the pleasure Becky's hand was supplying. She squeezed lightly as she changed pace, suddenly pumping me towards orgasm. I bucked beneath her, and she slowed immediately into a one-two-three-stop rhythm. It was exquisite – she'd always been the finest of teases, and she was outdoing herself this evening.

"Can you get even stiffer for me?" she murmured into my ear, "Is your cock going to get even bigger in your knickers? Make me proud, baby!"

I felt as though every nerve in my body was clamouring to bring me new sensations provided by the soft hands of my girlfriend. Her handjob was a masterwork, a symphony of soft caresses and sighs.

"I've another surprise for you tonight hun," whispered Becky, "Just give me a minute."

She moved off the bed and, despite my writhing and desperate pleas, left me alone. The seconds ticked away and my stiff penis bobbed up and down through the hole in my lacy pink knickers.

But I didn't have to lie in blissful agony for long. Becky returned to the bed and crawled up between my legs. I could feel her against me, as she raised my hips and slid a pillow under my lower back.

Bound. Gagged. Erect. And now I was lying with my groin thrust upwards, with two pink lacy opening holes putting my arse and cock on show for my lover.

I was terrified but helpless. My ankle bindings gave a little as I attempted to struggle, but not enough to do anything to stop her. I kicked uselessly, to no avail. And then I felt something cold and wet press insistently at my sphincter.

The startled high-pitched noises I emitted must have been loud in the room.

"Shh, baby," said Becky, "Just relax and let it happen. This is my fantasy and we'll get to do yours later. You're making me hot. Now make me proud..."

A wiggling inside me gave it away. She was fingering my tight opening, with some sort of lube helping her to slide easily in and out of my clenched rosebud. I shuddered and moaned as she gently fucked me with first one, then two fingers.

Her other hand had been rubbing the tops of my sheer stockings, tracing across the flimsy knickers but avoiding my red-hot cock. A single fingertip grazed my balls through the soft fabric, and a shriek of frustration and desire leapt from my lips, only to be muffled by my gag.

Becky slid her fingers out of me. I let out a very vocal groan of disappointment, and she giggled at the state I was in.

"Don't worry, love," she said, "You'll get yours. Here it comes now..."

Whatever was pressing at my hole at that moment, it certainly was no mere digit. It felt huge as it slathered lubricant between my cheeks. I started to tense up, but Becky chose that moment to rub a dollop of lube onto my stiff prick with two of her fingers.

The pressure against my back door won, and the head of the shaft popped inside me. The combined pleasure and pain met at my hips, smashed together and ricocheted up my body. The girlish cry of horror and fulfilment wrenched from my throat asked a lot from the gag.

Becky didn't miss a beat and before I could come to terms with the initial violation, she was balls-deep inside me.

"This is my fantasy, baby," she panted, "Filling your pretty little arse with my fat cock. Having all eight inches inside my femmy boyfriend and knowing the little slut loves it!"

She shifted her weight and the dildo stirred in my passage. I hadn't quite caught my breath from being taken, and a flowering pulse of pleasure robbed me of it again. My entire body jerked at the electrifying tingle.

"Ooooh, I think I hit the good spot," Becky said, "I think my girly-boy's about ready to be fucked."

She withdrew slowly, and my pulse quickened as I tightened around the pole. There was nothing my muscles could do to dislodge the cock, though – I was dripping with lubricant and Becky used her weight to control its movement perfectly.

It slid in again, and only the gag prevented my wordless squeal of blissful delight from waking the whole street. The long length began to plough me, inexorably opening my arse. Every stroke of that plastic phallus made me crave more.

And Becky was up to the job. Sliding her greased-up fingers along my shaft, she suddenly started to fuck me with a sharp, determined tempo. The slap-slapping sound of her hips against my upraised arse punctuated my girlfriend's ragged breathing. Becky was getting hotter by the second, and I knew she'd orgasm soon.

She wrenched the blindfold from my head, and for the first time I could see her eyes. She was wild, fighting the overwhelming urge to cum. As her fake cock banged in and out of my arse, she was trying to keep herself right on the edge for as long as possible.

I was entranced, seeing her for the first time. My girlfriend wore a red corset and stockings as she knelt between my nylon-clad legs. Her fiery red hair was loose and wild and hung around her face as she watched her dick abuse me.

Becky looked up and our gazes locked. She started to shake.

"Time to cum, baby – make me proud!"

The hand stroking my cock became a blur and Becky slammed the entire length of the dildo deep inside me, cramming every last inch past my well-used ringpiece.

I cried out again for one last time, a triumphant gasp of attainment as my mind shattered. My heart was pounding, my cock spurting over my lingerie and my arse was rippling around the intruder. I couldn't think, let alone breathe, as I was wracked by convulsions of blinding ecstasy.

When I recovered, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I lay, totally spent, with Becky sprawled over my body.

"Mine's a threesome," I said after some time.

"I think I can manage that," she said without hesitation, "And no time like the present, is there? I know someone who'd be up for it – I'll give her a call."

My heart skipped.

"Really?" I asked."

"Absolutely! Natasha's got a thing for treating men rough. Wait until I tell her I've found a sissy slut who loves taking cock. Once she's seen your outfit, I'm sure we'll be fucking you from both ends. But I want you to make sure Natasha has a great time, so you do as you're told for us when she gets here."

My eyes widened, my jaw dropped and my mouth opened. But then, just as I was about to object, I stopped. I smiled up at Becky and she positively beamed down at me.

"There we go baby – make me proud."