tagBDSMYes, Mommy

Yes, Mommy


My wife/Mistress, Heather and I had over the years developed a large repetoire of ways of playing together, with me, of course, always in a submissive role. One of our favorites was her as Mommy and me as her obedient little sissy boy. What a delightful combination of humiliation and safety it created in me.

However, as frequently was the case, she had decided to add a little variety to a developed scene and informed me earlier in the week that, on Saturday, she was inviting a friend of hers from work--Debbie--over and that we I would be her sissy little boy in front of Debbie! A delicious fear grew in me as Saturday approached as I knew I would obey my "Mommy" and suffer a hugely increased dose of humiliation as another woman witnessed my domination and emasculation.

On Saturday morning my wife and I slept in as usual and had a late breakfast. I knew Debbie was to arrive at 1:00, but neither Heather nor I had made any reference to the event since the night before. We both were dressed casually in jeans, with me wearing my usual weekend plain cotton panties and also white socks and loafers, with a short-sleeved sweatshirt.

I was nervous as a cat as 1:00 approached, and my wife was cat-like, too, smiling like one who had eaten the cream.

A few minutes before one, the doorbell rang, and Heather ordered me to answer it. I opened the door and invited our guest in, feeling very nervous and blushing furiously.

Not having met Debbie before, I wasn't sure what to expect, and I wondered what she had expected, too. Debbie was blond with a page-boy cut. I guessed her to be in her early thirties. She was cute but not a knock-out and dressed comfortably in a jeans skirt, blouse, and platform sandals. The latter and her toes got a glance that I wish could have lingered. We each exchanged a rather shy "hi" and a handshake before my wife appeared and gave Debbie a warm hug.

She led the way into the living room, invited her friend to have a seat, and asked if she'd like a coke or coffee.

"Coffee'd be nice," said Debbie, stealing a little glance at me and starting to relax a bit.

"Get Debbie and me coffee, Ken," Heather directed. She takes it with cream and sugar, too. You can have a cup if you want."

As I was preparing the coffee--I felt too nervous to have any--muted sounds from the living room reached my ears. The pair were talking, and giggles were part of the conversation. My ears were burning!

Bringing their coffee back, I found Debbie grinning and sitting comfortably in her chair with her legs crossed. Directed by my wife to sit at her side on the sofa, I was able to look more closely at Debbie's shoes and her pink-polished nails. What a lovely sight! I felt my cock stir as I, too, began to relax a little. Debbie seemed nice, and this promised to be an interesting afternoon.

Not invited to participate in the conversation and rather ignored by both women, I listened to them chat for a few minutes about the office. Then without warning, my wife turned to me. "Well, little sissy, I think it's time you went and put on your diaper."

Debbie laughed--partly probably from nervousness, but she seemed genuinely amused, too. I was too embarrassed even to look at her and quickly rose and hurried from the room.

Under the shock of the moment, my penis had wilted, but as I removed my clothes in the bedroom, it strongly reasserted itself as my submissive side and strong need for humiliation at the hands of my lovely wife took over. The consequence was that once I had my pink diaper on, there was a bulge in its middle.

Before returning to the living room, I took a look in the full-view mirror. How glad I was that Heather helped me to eat sensibly and work out. I was reasonably slim and fit, and when all you're wearing is a brief pink diaper (with lace! designed by your wife), fatness and drooping is hard to hide!

Heather herself is slim to the point of skinniness and doesn't seem to work at it at all, the lucky thing! Her breasts are small, but I love the way she looks, and the size of her breasts have never bothered me. Just seeing her body is almost enough to make me cum, even after years of marriage.

Whoops! I almost had forgotten! Running back to our "toy closet," I tied the pink ribbon around my neck and looped the string with the cock-shaped pacifier on it over my head.

I could hear more giggling as I neared the living room, and with my heart racing and my legs literally trembling, I entered the room and stood, with head bowed, in front of my wife.

"Oh, wow!" came Debbie's voice, with a tone I couldn't quite identify. It seemed to include excitement and amusement but more than just those reactions. Sensing rather than having seen her when I had re-entered the room, I reckoned her location to have moved from previously to a chair about six feet from the sofa and located behind me and where my wife sat and a bit to the right. She would have a good view of the procedings.

"Turn around so Debbie can see you," my wife purred. I did so, knowing how ridiculous I must look to her friend. Heather stood and took my chin in her finger, lifting my head up and turning my face so I was looking directly at Debbie.

She was perched on the edge of her chair, staring hungrily at me. "Is that a PACIFIER around his neck?" she asked.

"Tell her, little sissy," my wife ordered.

"Yes," I answered in a very small, choked voice.

"Call my friend Miss Debbie, young man!" Heather ordred sharply, "and tell her why your pah is shaped like that."

My heart sank, but my cock stiffened as I obeyed: "It's shaped like a cock, Miss Debbie, because I like to suck cock."

Both women laughed aloud as I surrendered any remaining "manliness," confessing to both that I was a cock-sucker.

"That's a good little boy," my wife said kindly and stoked my hair.

"Thank you, Mommy," I said, as even in Debbie's presence, I felt the warm rush of love and acceptance from my wife.

"You're welcome, sweetie." As she sat down, Heather turned my body so I was able to look at her but Debbie would be sure to see my face, too. "Now tell Debbie why you're wearing a diaper, sissy boy," she directed.

I directed my answer to Debbie with occasional looks into her face, which seemed both amused and eager. She was grinning, and her eyes were gleaming. "Because wearing a diaper reminds me that I'm just a silly little boy, not a man. Wearing a pink one makes me feel really sissy, and Mommy sewed some pretty sissy lace on it." How humiliating and wonderfully exciting it felt to call myself a sissy in front of two women!

"What do you think, Deb?" Heather asked with a grin in her voice. "Does he look like much of a man?"

Heather laughed as she answered, "Not hardly--looks like a big sissy to me."

"What do you say, sissy?" my wife prompted.

"Thank you, Miss Debbie," I humbly answered.

"Tell her what you're thanking her for!" came the sharp voice of my wife.

"For telling me what a silly little sissy I look like."

"Actually," Heather corrected, "She's telling you what a silly little sissy you ARE."

"Oh, he IS!" Debbie eagerly affirmed. And to me, "You ARE a sissy!"

"Thank you, Mommy and Miss Debbie, for telling me what I am," I humbly replied.

"Now sit next to Mommy," said my wife and pulled me down so that I was huddled next to her slim warmth. She put her arm around me and hugged me close, and I was in heaven.

"He really is my very good little boy, and I love him so," she commented to her friend, which nearly melted me. I snuggled even closer.

"That's sweet," Debbie said, and there was softness in her voice as she looked at Heather and me.

Gently, my wife disengaged from me, and I sat up next to her. "Tell Debbie how you feel when you're with Mommy," Heather instucted, and, looking shyly at Debbie, I answered with utter sincerity, "Warm and safe. I feel so warm and safe when I'm with Mommy and she tells me I'm a good boy and that she loves me."

Debbie looked directly at me, and her eyes were soft. "I see you do, and I can tell she does."

For awhile none of us said anything. Then Heather asked me, "Would my little boy like to nurse?"

To Be Continued

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