Pent-Up

Continued from: Why the Long Face?

When we left off with this cute couple, Vanessa was exerting her dominance over her sissy husband, allowing him a small moment of scent-association training after her return from work. The dampness of her hosed-feet, came to rest on Derek's mouth and nose, as she massaged and manipulated his caged cock through his panties.

His arousal and frustration level was nearly unbearable. 

Three days without her guiding hand had left him coiled tighter than a spring, emotions and desires building to a critical point. Vanessa recognized the signs - it was time for a therapeutic intervention. A gentle, soothing phrase escaped her lips as she beckoned Derek to head upstairs and position himself in the corner: "Off you go, my little one. let's take care of everything pent-up, shall we?" 

With a mixture of humility and hope, Derek clicked up the stairs in his Mary Janes, his movements tentative, like a child seeking comfort. He had come to learn within his unique dynamic, that being "pent-up" meant tears would flow from his eyes first, before the chastity tears would flow from his cage. 

As Vanessa ascended the stairs, the commanding click of her heels echoed through the quiet hallway, a solitary sound that seemed to amplify her dominance. Her gaze drifted upwards, fixing on the figure in the corner of their bedroom, awaiting his fate. 

Derek, clad in a patterned and delicate outfit of a little girl, stood with his hands on his head, elbows out. The air was heavy with contrition, as if the very atmosphere itself was infused with shame and humility. 

With practiced rituality, Derek had accessed the dreaded "spanking cart" from their walk-in closet. A simple yet elegant two-tier cart on wheels, containing straps, paddles, hairbrushes, a Lexan cane and plenty of tissues. He knew that before positioning himself in the corner, this needed to be displayed and presented for his wife's selection.

Vanessa positioned herself on the plush loveseat, exposing her hosed thighs in invitation. Once summoned from the corner, Derek turned in response, before mincing towards his wife.

Vanessa's slender fingers extended, helping him out of his dress and bra and sliding his panties down and off. With a pat of her lap, his body conformed to the familiar contours of her strict lap, in this time-honoured position. Her hand found its way to the small of his back with a little pressure, to pin him in place, as her sturdy palm began to soundly spank his bare bum cheeks. 

After a long warm-up over her knees, Derek was positioned on an end-table to be paddled. Vanessa sat comfortably nearby, allowing his anticipation to build and tears to rise to the surface. 

With a deep breath, Vanessa launched into the rhythmic motion, paddling his bare bum in a slow, measured cadence. At first, the impact was reasonable, but as the blows continued to fall, the sounds of pain and pent-up emotion began to mingle, culminating in deep sobbing from Derek. He was crying openly now, like a little girl. 

With Derek's emotional catharsis complete, Vanessa's focus shifted to the next stage of his therapy. From the beside drawer, she retrieved her trusty strap-on harness, the supple leather creaking as she buckled it securely around her hips. 

Next she selected a suitable condom, the crinkle of its wrapper piercing the silence as she tore it open with her teeth. With deliberate slowness, she rolled the latex sheath over Derek's chastity cage, creating a reservoir to capture any cum that might be coerced from his prostate. The unspoken promise hung in the air, Vanessa would milk him dry, relieving his pent-up desires while reinforcing her control over him. 

With a subtle adjustment, Vanessa aligned her body with Derek's vulnerable form, the tip of her strap-on poised at the entrance to his "sissy pussy". The initial penetration was followed by a series of shallow, teasing thrusts, each calculated to tantalize his prostate. 

As Vanessa's thrusts gained momentum, she began to slap his already brutalized ass cheeks, to coax him into vocalizing his feelings. "Tell me darling," she urged, her voice husky with encouragement, "do you enjoy being fucked like a girl?" 

A strangled affirmative escaped Derek's lips, his admission hanging in the room like a confession. "Y-yes, Ma'am...I I-like it..." The words dripped with shame and humiliation, a potent cocktail that fueled Vanessa's passion. 

"I love it when your cage slaps against my clit!" She purred out.

Her strokes grew more insistent, driving poor Derek further into the heart of his degradation, as she crafted another memorable chapter in their ongoing tale of this female-led-relationship. All that was pent-up, had been released. 

Welcome home, Vanessa! 

Derek...you better just stay on all fours, while she gets that condom off your cage and feeds you the contents. And don't forget to thank her for it. 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Mad Men