The Princess and the Domme - Prologue [BDSM, girlyboy, cd/tv, sissy, femdom, sub

The Princess and the Domme Chapter Two: Party Girl

R u a horny little girl?

            I am, mistress.

            It was a profound understatement. He’d been overwhelmingly horny for the last week, denying himself the chance to touch in order to build himself up to an almost unbearable level.

            Why don’t you touch for me, Annabel?

            Thank you, mistress.

            He almost wanted her to deny him further, until he was willing to do anything, no matter how humiliating and desperate. But he gave in to the command, and knelt back on his heels. He hitched the floral nightie up and slid down the ruffly pink panties. They caught on his the end of his solid, dripping cock and chafed just enough to send a rush of increased arousal through him.

            I can’t see you properly.

            Sorry, mistress.

            He moved closer, so that his cock was fully visible. He knew it wasn’t his face she was interested in. And then he brought a hand to his foreskin and started to masturbate, giving a little groan at the relief of it.

            You’re a lucky girl, Annabel.

            Yes, mistress. Thank you, mistress.

            You don’t deserve this.

            No, mistress. This pathetic slut doesn’t deserve anything. She lives only to serve.

            Every time he answered, it was somewhere between a turn-on and a distraction. He both loved and hated the frustration of being diverted from the task of masturbating, and from the thoughts of his own humiliation.

            Hit your balls.

            He obeyed, as always, and winced with pain every time his palm landed on them. But his cock only grew harder, and he felt himself tipping towards the edge of an orgasm.

            Harder.

            He slapped them once, hard, and then was right on the edge. His breath was ragged, and he whimpered in anticipation.

            Please may I cum?

            Cum into your hand Annabel.

            The release was huge, and powerful. He bent helplessly over his cupped hand as he jerked and shuddered the cum out of his cock.

            Now eat it.

            He saw the message, and suddenly felt the disgust he had come to know well. It was like this every time, the self-loathing that overwhelmed him whenever he had reached orgasm and the waves of horniness had left him.

            With the loathing came a hollowness he had also come to expect. The faceless mistress was probably a few hundred miles away, an aging, over-weight man who liked watching the young ones pleasure themselves on camera. Not a mistress. Not his mistress. Adam would probably never perform for him again, and just then he wondered why he had ever wanted to.

            Lick it up, you little whore.

            Yes, mistress.