Sissy Stepdad

Sissy Stepdad

Chapter III

By the time I got home, I had a raging hard-on.  Normally, I would have taken care of that issue as soon as I could, but decided that remaining "in need" would be a self-imposed punishment.  Nobody was home when I got there.  Dad would be at work until later in the evening, and Mom and my younger sister were at some ballet recital or something, so I immediately locked myself in my room, stripped naked, and sat at my desk to work on my punishment list.  I imagined my Goddess was standing there, glowering, watching over me to make sure I didn't relieve my obvious need.  Pre-cum seeped out of my cock head, dripping onto the fabric of my chair, leaving stains that would remain there for years, causing me to remember day every time I looked at them.

I knew everything on my list had to be right on the cusp, riding that thin line between relatively extreme and impossible.  I couldn't, for example, get a bare-butt spanking in the middle of the quad at lunchtime.  Writing the list was going to be difficult, but the embarrassing part was going to be tomorrow, when the girls read and shared it with each other.  This, too, I understood, would be part of my punishment.  So, I began writing, hoping they would do everything on the list, and at the same time, praying they wouldn't.  My first intention was to come up with a list of 100 punishments - one for every girl I claimed to have violated - but I soon ran out of what I considered reasonable ideas.  Looking at my list, I discovered I only had about thirty, and some of those were pretty weak.  I ended up refining what I had, combining some of the punishments and expanding on others, until I had what I believed were 24 humiliating, feasible punishments.  Three per cheerleader, I hoped, would suffice.

Just as I finished my list, I heard the front door open.  Mom and my eleven year old sister, Beth, were home.  I quickly folded the paper up and stuck it in my binder, threw my jeans and shirt on, and went out to greet them.  I couldn't waste time with underwear, and knew that my erection would be obvious if either of them bothered to look.  Beth did, smiling knowingly at me.  As she went into her room, she flipped up the hem of her ballet tutu, flashing me with white tights that clearly showed the outline of her little quim.  I don't know whether or not it was my imagination, but I could have sworn I saw a tiny wet spot.

Except for dinner, I continued my self-imposed banishment, claiming I had homework to do.  Once again, I imagined being in the presence of my Goddess, kneeling naked on the floor before her, begging forgiveness.  I vividly remembered being gagged with my own soiled shorts, praying next time it would be recently worn panties, or a damp pair of sweaty socks that I'd pulled off one of them before paying homage to those delicate, pungent feet.  Pre-cum continued to drip from my cock; at my imaginary abuser's command, I dropped to my belly and licked the wetness from the floor.  While doing so, I raised my ass high in the air, offering it up for an imaginary beating.

Carefully checking the floor and discovering it was clean, I rose to my feet and stood before the mirror on my closet door, inspecting my own body in a manner I'd never done before.  Standing with my legs spread and my hands clasped behind my neck, I saw a geeky, skinny boy before me, his cock bouncing ridiculously with every breath he took.  Flexing his arms, I almost laughed out loud at the sight.  There were no biceps to speak of, just flatness; his upper arms barely larger than his wrists.  He was so skinny that his ribs were visible, the tiny patch of soft, downy hair on his pubes almost humorous to see.  Turning slowly around and looking over my shoulder, I could see the angry red stripes on his ass from the day's earlier punishment.  Facing the mirror once more, I dropped to my knees again.  I wasn't worthy of standing erect even before my own reflected image.  I shifted on my knees, moving closer to the mirror, leaning down and trying to kiss the reflection of my own cock, leaving a vivid imprint of my lips on the glass.

I decided to forgo dinner that evening - another part of my self-imposed punishment, I suppose - telling my parents that I wasn't particularly hungry.  This was far from the truth, as I'd skipped lunch as well.  My stomach was growling incessantly, but I would continue my fast until breakfast.

While the rest of my family enjoyed their dinner and an evening of television afterwards, I remained kneeling on the bare hardwood floor of my room, my robe handy in case there should be an unexpected knock.  Being naked and on my knees wasn't enough, however.  Crawling into my closet, I found a wide, white leather belt and wrapped it around my neck, creating a makeshift collar.  A few minutes with my Boy Scout pocket knife - yes, I was a Boy Scout at the time - and it was cut to size, with new holes punched for the buckle.  Next, I took a red felt pen from my desk and wrote in large, block letters, "SLAVE BOY," before finally fastening it around my neck.  The humiliating words glared back at me in the mirror as I knelt there, my eyes lowered submissively, looking at the reflection of my naked body using my peripheral vision.

This still wasn't enough self-imposed abuse, though.  I listened at the door for a moment, and hearing all three voices of my family out in the living room, slipped into the bathroom that my sister and I shared.  Our bedrooms were actually adjoining, with the small bathroom providing a pass-through between the rooms.  Quietly rummaging through the laundry hamper we shared, I found a pair of pink knee socks she'd apparently worn a few days earlier.  They were quite filthy, and I could smell their pungent odor even before I held them to my nose.  These would do perfectly, I thought.  Returning to my own room, I made sure the door was locked on my side, and set myself to work.

Ever following the "Be Prepared" motto of Scouting, I dug into my rucksack and found the items I'd need tonight: a roll of duct tape, and three lengths of cord.  First, I stripped my bed, neatly folding the blankets, linens and mattress cover and placing them on my desk, along with my pillow.  I would sleep without the accouterments normally associated with a bed this night.  Quickly securing two of the ropes to the bottom corners of the bed, I then tied one around each of my ankles, making sure my legs were uncomfortably spread.  My sister's dirty socks came next, wadded up and shoved into my mouth, a strip of duct tape ensuring my makeshift gag would remain in place all night.  Finally, it was time for my hands.  It would be necessary for me to be able to release myself in the morning, so I simply threaded the final piece of rope between my collar and neck, made a loop at each end, and slid my wrists through them.  I spent the night thusly, spread out on my bed, pretending my hands were in handcuffs, not easily removable slip knots, fantasizing that my body was available for any who wished to abuse it.

As you might imagine, what little sleep I got that night was fitful.  I was cold and uncomfortable, not being accustomed to sleeping on my back and without covers.  What sleep I did get, though, was filled with vivid dreams of being forced to do the most obscene acts, things I dared not put on my punishment list for fear that they might actually be imposed on me.  I awoke once in the middle of the night to a warm feeling over my groin; I'd actually had a wet dream, and semen was dripping down my slender cock and near hairless balls.  I thought momentarily about getting cleaned up, perhaps even curling up inside a blanket, but knew that I had to finish what I'd started.

I awakened before my alarm went off; a good thing, considering it would have taken me several minutes to release myself and get across the room to turn it off.  By then, someone might have become concerned and forced themselves into my room.  I saw that it was fifteen minutes before my normal time to awaken, so I released myself from my bonds.  Gathering the evidence of my self-abuse, I buried the cords, socks, and most importantly, the collar, deep in the back of my closet.  By the time my alarm did sound, I was already making my bed.

I took a moment to examine myself in the mirror again.  The stripes on my ass seemed to be fading, but were still visible.  What intrigued me most, though, was the way the semen had dried, leaving a flaky white substance, not unlike dried glue, on my body.  I decided to not shower, instead leaving the dried cum in place as a reminder of what I'd done to myself.

I seldom ate breakfast, but after a full day without eating, it had become a necessity.  Of all the normal breakfast foods, I hate oatmeal the most.  Therefore, that's exactly what I had: a large bowl of oatmeal, no sugar, no milk, nothing to make it even a smidgen more palatable.  I did treat myself to coffee, however, the caffeine a necessity after my lack of sleep.

It wasn't until after I arrived at school that I realized I had a major problem: no gym shorts.  I sought out my Goddess during morning break.

"Ma'am?" I said hesitantly.

"What is it, worm?" she replied in a voice I thought was too loud.  So far, my situation was known only to myself and the cheerleaders...at least, I hoped so.

"Ma'am, last night...you kept my gym shorts.  I need them for seventh period, Ma'am."

"That's your problem, worm.  I don't know why you should expect ME to bring YOUR clothes to school.  I suggest you either find a pair to wear, or figure out a way to get out of gym.  However, wether you do or not, remember that the only thing you're permitted to wear when reporting for your afternoon punishment is gym shorts.  If you don't have any, you'll just have to go without."

"Yes, Ma'am," I acknowledged quietly, my eyes downcast.

"Oh, by the way, where's your list of punishments?" 

I quickly pulled the folded sheet of paper out of my pocket, standing there while she perused it.

"Interesting, but I think we can do better, can't we?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I mumbled.

"I'll keep this for now, though," she commented.  "I need to make copies for everyone.  Oh, and from now on, whenever you're given a homework assignment like this, you'll present it to me before class.  You should have come looking for me as soon as you got here; I shouldn't have had to ask you for it.  You'll get another ten hard ones this afternoon."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Now get out of my sight worm, and stay away from me.  The next time I see you, I want it to be when you're on your knees outside the girls' locker room."  With that, she turned on her heels and marched away, leaving me behind.

My most immediate problem was what to do about gym.  I considered claiming that my locker had been broken into and the contents stolen, but Coach wouldn't believe that.  For a fleeting moment, I considered seeing if one of my friends would lend me theirs, but that would cause too many questions to be asked; questions that I was not yet prepared to answer.  Then it struck me: the school nurse.  It was a simple matter, actually; I just went in complaining of lower back pain, was given aspirin and an excuse from P.E.  Today, of course, no school nurse would ever dispense any medications, but this was nearly 30 years ago, when it was quite common.

So I didn't have to dress out for Phys Ed, instead spending the hour sitting in the gym while everyone else played basketball.  Since it was Friday, we would all take our gym uniforms home to be washed.  I was able to hang around the locker room, feigning getting my stuff together, until I was the only one left.

I both anticipated and dreaded what was going to come next.  In all probability, I'd find myself kneeling naked outside the girls' locker room door, unless I could find a pair of gym shorts somewhere.  I checked a number of lockers, all to no avail.  I'd hoped someone had left a pair behind, but it wasn't to be.  Once again, I went out the back door and hid my street clothes under the shrubs, then skulked back to the opposite end of the locker room.  There I waited, peering out the crack between the two doors, waiting until the last possible moment before making a mad dash out the door and around the two privacy walls, dropping to my knees outside the girls' locker room.  I instinctively tried to make myself as small as possible, keeping low and curling my body into a ball, but knowing that if anyone happened upon me, it wouldn't matter.  I waited and waited, seemingly for hours, but in reality it was probably no more than ten minutes - an eternity in my current state of public nakedness - before the locker room door opened.  One of the younger girls - a sophomore named Jeanette - stuck her head out the door and giggled.

"Get in here, slutboy!" she commanded.  "We're waiting back by the toilets.  You are to crawl to us, then stop in front of each one of us and kiss the floor between our feet.  Understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I responded, rising to all fours and crawling behind her as fast as I could.  The eight girls were all fully dressed, each sitting on a commode.  As directed, I stopped before each one, lowering my lips to the floor.  Jeanette giggled when I knelt before her.  I noticed the floor was wet as I dropped my face onto it.

"Sorry about that, slutboy.  I had to piss really bad, and guess I missed.  We were talking about my little accident, though, and decided that if you want to lick it all up, you can earn ten lashes off your punishment." 

I nearly came right there, my dick immediately hardening as my tongue went to work on the small puddle.  I lapped it up as quickly as I could, relishing the absolute degradation of performing such a disgustingly humiliating act.

"Good boy," she said, patting my head like a puppy when I was through.

"Now, about this list you came up with, worm," my Goddess announced.  "It's a fair start, but we can't see how this would negate what you've done to all the other girls in this school.  It's obvious you are too stupid to devise appropriate punishments for yourself.  Although some of your ideas are intriguing - like this one about using your tongue to clean us up after we have sex with our boyfriends - it's obvious that you're all about getting your own rocks off.  So, we've come up with our own ideas.  Your first punishment will be tonight. You're going on a date."

"A date, Ma'am?" I asked.  How could a date with one of these beautiful girls - or even any girl - be considered punishment?  My eyes lit up.

"Yes, a date.  Don't worry money or anything, your date will take care of all that.  You'll be picked up out front in thirty minutes.  Wear this," she said, tossing a balled-up garment at me.  "Nothing else."  With considerable trepidation, I unfolded the item and found it to be a team basketball jersey, long enough to reach well below my knees.  It smelled of sweat, and I knew without asking that its owner had worn it during last night's game.  Whatever this "date" was, it apparently wasn't going to be formal.

"Your date will identify you by what you're wearing, but just to be sure, you'll use the name ‘Pansy.'" Your date will ask you if you're Pansy, and you will answer affirmatively, in the appropriate manner.  Understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I replied, still on my knees before her.

"I'd better not hear any complaints from your date.  If there's any disobedience, or even a tiny bit of hesitation when you're told to do something, your ass will pay for it."

"Yes, Ma'am, I understand, Ma'am." I answered dutifully.

Twenty-five minutes later, I was standing on the curb in front of the school, waiting to be picked up.  The basketball jersey was about six sizes too large for me, the neck plunging so deep that a good portion of my upper chest was exposed, and the arm holes extending nearly to my hips.  I was so skinny that standing there barefoot and naked underneath it, it was almost like I was some sort of starving refugee child from those TV commercials.  It wasn't a warm day, foggy, overcast and seemingly wanting to rain.  The damp chill caused my nipples to harden and my testicles to retract.  It was the fear, though, of what was to come that really affected me.  I'd always believed that being nearly naked in public would be an extreme turn-on, but at the moment, my dick was shrunken and pulled up between my nearly hairless thighs.

A horn honked, wakening me from my daydream reverie.

"You Pansy?" a deep voice called.  I nodded, looking up at the driver.  If I was a girl, he'd have been my dream.  Driving a nearly new Mustang convertible, he was blond, well-built, and impeccably attired.  He was in his mid-20's, clean-cut and very handsome.

"Get in.  We don't have all day, and I still need to train you."

I climbed in through the passenger's door.  Thankfully, the weather was such that the top was up.  Seeing me shivering, the car's owner turned the heater on full.

"Dominique was right, you are the cutest little thing," he commented.  "Lift up your top so I can see." 

I raised the hem of the jersey to mid-chest, exposing my hairless, cold-shrunken dick for him, holding it up until he motioned for me to drop it.

"Yes, I think you'll do nicely," he commented.

"Uh, do for what, Sir?" I asked timidly.  As nice as he was acting, I was trembling in fear.

"We're going to a little party, just myself and five or six friends," he explained.  "I needed a waiter, someone to fetch drinks and towels and such, someone not too hard on the eyes."

I nodded, a vacant look in my eyes as I tried to figure this all out.  I guessed I was going to be some sort of servant at an orgy or something.