Beyond the thick glass the lights of the city softened somnolent notes of dusk. The Belfast hills became enshadowed strokes of naive charcoal. Offices all around emptied like hexagonal cells of bees since it was St Patrick’s Day tomorrow and the holiday mood was high.
I was an aberration though and probably not the only one. Others no doubt remained at their places of work too for various reasons – to keep the financial wolves at bay, to avoid the nagging wife/husband and gaggle of kids waiting at home – seeking solitude perhaps? But no, not I. I was not amongst the mundane, I was here waiting.
The waiting brought a newness to my day. I don’t wait willingly as a rule. When for example I ask for documentation to be sent to me within the hour, it arrives promptly, as well it should. When I ask for a coffee, my cute little assistant Sandra brings it to me – promptly. This is my kingdom and I am The King here. Every single brick, tile, desk, wall, vent, wire, lift, conduit, everything in The MaGauran building is mine. All paid for.
And yet for some reason Isambard Oisin MaGauran is standing here waiting, wrestling right now. Somehow I have to wrangle myself from the person I was during the day, boss to hundreds, to transform into the person I need and want to be in the next few minutes when she arrives. And she’s overdue. Why does she have to make me wait so?
As I lean my head back in frustration I catch a glimpse of the tendons in my neck showing in the windows reflection. She bit those last time. I should have howled but all I dared release was a placid whimper. There were marks. No one ever asked. They know trespassers are not allowed.
And then just like that, breaking through my nostalgia, she breezes in.
‘Good evening Isambard.’
My head bows without thought.
‘Good evening Mistress.’
I only saw her briefly there but I took in a glimpse of jet black shining hair spiked and roughed, short and no nonsense. Her clothes are black and tight but I didn’t have time to make much else out.
I must not look, even though I want to.
‘On your knees now. Yes, that’s right. Now crawl towards me. My boots need cleaned from the filthy streets I walked through to get here.’
Her voice is husky. Without hesitation, I make my way over to her. Eager to rid her boots of all that sullies them. Nothing should detract from her perfection. I feel a slight sense of outrage when I find a shred of foil bubble gum wrap on her heel and curse the person who dropped it on the street as I tear it away and swallow it whole. I know she is watching. This is not for show. I need to please her. I need her to know she is worshiped. This is not about me taking and receiving. I get that 24hrs a day. This is for Mistress.
When her neon pink boots are shining bright with my saliva she rests one foot on my indigo Armani jacket clad back. Not hard but I feel it.
‘I should like a vanilla soya bubble tea,’ she says. ‘From the little shop on Donegal Avenue. And grab me some pad thai noodles from the shop next door. I haven’t eaten all day. You may stand now.’
I do so and briefly dare look at her. Her eyes are a piercing green, rimmed with black. Her lips are full and make free – so pink and virginal. Her clothes are a laced black leather top and trousers. Fingerless gloves. Her nose is pierced through the septum with what looks like a black shard of bone.
‘Go then,’ she orders softly.
All the way there my mind is a jumble of what might be next, what is her plan, because she clearly has one. I remind myself to fulfill her orders to the letter. Only this hits a major snag when it comes to paying for the noodles. My wallet is gone. She must have taken it. She likes to make her little challenges that little bit harder for me.
No matter. I have my apple watch. I can use that to pay. I do so and hurry back. It’s true that I’ve sent many of my staff on similar missions over the years but I can guarantee none have ever felt like I do right now.
I’m hugging the bubble tea to my chest to keep it warm for her like a king penguin protecting his egg. I had the man at the noodle kiosk insulate the pad thai with dozens of napkins to keep it warm. He added chopsticks and various condiments at my request just in case she might desire them. I feel no fear other than that of failing her. She has hurt me at times consensually in the past. I allow it. Our relationship is one of servitude mainly. And of humiliation. I long for it during the times we do not see each other. I need dealt with harshly. I am desperate to get back to her so my feet are moving fast as I weave through the busy streets. Excitement fizzes in my chest; happiness to be doing something for her, happiness that I shall be with her within minutes, alone. My Domme.
She isn’t alone though when I get back to my office. My heart drops to my shoes. An extremely tall and imposing man of colour stands beside her looking for all the world like he lives at the gym instead of merely visiting like the rest of us mere mortals.
I approach, head bowed. ‘I bought you, your things Mistress.’
She peers at the noodles in the bag and takes a sip of the bubble tea through the straw.
‘Mmm…’ she says. Then sweeps my desk clear of everything, ordering me to lie down on my back. She turns to the stranger and says, ‘want some?’ He smiles and sips from the same straw. They exchange a secret look and I feel jealousy. I want my lips to touch that straw, where Mistresses lips have just been.
‘Would you like some tea too, Isambard?’
My heart leaps. ‘Yes please Mistress.’
‘Caleb, give little Issy the Sissy some tea, would you pet?’
She pats his rock hard buttocks as she says this, stalking round him, her glittering neon pink eye make up giving her an almost alien aura.
Caleb takes a deep long suck of the straw and she orders me to open my mouth. I don’t want to but my Mistress wants it. It’s my job to please her and be a good sub.
Caleb releases the milky fragrant tea into my mouth complete with tapioca balls and probably a fair amount of his saliva. I look my Domme in the eye and obediently swallow.
‘Thank you miss.’
She nods regally and begins to eat the noodles using the chopsticks. She shares some with Caleb, mouth to mouth, a hybrid of kissing and eating. It is so animalistic and I am so defunct in that moment. Desk digging into my back. Genitals so pathetic and debased at being unwanted; unworthy of attention. The moment he delves into her top having undone the lacing and kisses her sweet petal soft breast, I feel a tear leak from my eye. She sees me squirm and pushes him away.
‘Remove your clothes Issy. I want to see you.’
Oh God. Why now when I’m shriveled to nothing. Why now in front of this ebony skinned demi-god.
I immediately obey, knowing I seem awkward, hopping about a little when it comes to my socks. I remove my boxers sheepishly, not missing Caleb’s eyebrow raise at the circular wet patch. And there I stand, for once feeling small, scrutinized, goosebumps rising over my body. I wonder what’s coming next. We stand in silence, their eyes roving over me. I feel they belong to a master race of sexual beings and I am a big huge void of nothing. And then I see it in her clenched hand. She knows I see it. My eyes flick up and catch a smirk.
She throws them. ‘Put them on my little toy. They are mine. Worn. They are my reward to you for doing your job well so far.’
A bejeweled turquoise satin thong lands at my feet. I notice immediately the feminine secretions dried on the fabric. I want to sniff them. Lick them. That would be a step too far.
Do as you are told.
I put them on, my shriveled dick admittedly unsure whether to twitch in pleasure or to recede further into my groin. It begins to warm, blood rushing there, filling my organ, I fight to suppress a moan.
‘Show Caleb how well you look in Mistresses used knickers Issy. Bend over the desk for me. Please sweetling..’
She gently puts pressure on my back so that the satin material wedged between my hairy ass is visible to all.
I’m breathing hard and I cannot control it.
‘What do you think?’ she says to him.
‘I think it’s hot as fuck but I need more,’ Caleb growls.
Jesus. Did he just call me ‘it’? Like I’m nothing?
I have to trust Mistress Eve. She is everything.
‘Put this on him,’ she says.
It turns out to be a matching turquoise bralet with diamante trims. It’s skin tight. I feel I look ridiculous. She isn’t done yet either. She carefully places a trashy blonde wig with pink streaks on my head. Black seamed stockings are rolled up my legs. She ticklishly adds glittery magenta lip gloss to my lips and then stands back.
‘Walk now for us Sissy Issy. Do it sexy. Do it doucement.’
Paralysis holds me fast for a moment but the look of avid lust on Eve’s face spurs me to action. As I walk in circles, she pushes Caleb back onto the desk, now divested of trousers and briefs. His colossal black staff throbs angrily and she very deliberately drapes him in what’s left of the still warm noodles, wrapping them around his proud edifice. His eyes roll back and I realise we are nothing more than both her boy toys.
‘Turn around,’ she commands me. ‘Now grip your ankles.’
I obey. And from that position I can see her sucking the noodles from his bare cock into her mouth – long squiggly threads of them. My cock shouts it’s need to be treated so. But it is not for me. For I am Issy the Sissy. I have no voice.
Caleb looks close.
So am I. But I mustn’t.
‘Mistress is still hungry,’ she purrs.
‘Would my cock be worthy of at least attempting to satisfy you my lady?’ her other toy says.
She unzips the crotch of her leather trousers baring her perfect pussy and reclines in my executive office chair, the one I’ve sat in whilst brokering deals worth millions.
‘Let’s find out,’ she says. And he pushes the chair against the far wall in order to take the impact and plunges himself into her with a deep filthy squelch. As robust as she is she cannot contain several curses and deep throated wails. He is relentless. I feel like dirt. This is amplified further by her breathy demand that I crawl over and watch.
She points to where they are joined. A sticky, frothy, gluey mess. All stretching and plunging and tightening. All the things I will never have. I start to cry. Then it happens.
He roars like some beast from Jurassic times and I know he is emptying himself into my Queen in a way I will never ever be allowed to do. I look at his face and wonder if he knows his fortune. I feel lucky to even clean her boots and he, he gets to give her this.
Then I notice her attention is not on him. She’s looking at me. It is an intense gaze. Almost loving. The whole world falls away. She orders him to leave and now it’s just me and her.
I remain on my knees until she bids me sit on her lap where she feeds me cold noodles and commands that I offer her a tribute. It does not take long. I cum quickly. And I take pride that it is mine that she swallows. Not his. And that she was here for me.
My Eve.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/11cfrpz/sissy_issy_sissification_dominatrix_belfast