Sissy Stepdad

Sissy Stepdad

Chapter V

It was mid-afternoon when I finally returned home, too late to start my Saturday lawn mowing - I did yard care for a number of people across town - so I called my customers and asked to reschedule for Sunday.  Everyone was okay with that, though one said he'd be gone after this evening and wouldn't be there to pay me.  I told him it was no problem

I had a lot to think about.  I was pretty much in a daze for the remainder of the weekend, going about my chores, eating meals with my family, but most of all, evaluating and searching my inner self.  I spent a lot of quiet time, just sitting and contemplating everything that had happened the last few days, and the realization I'd come to only a few hours earlier.  I was a submissive, but I wasn't sure what that meant.  Was I supposed to submit to everyone, or just certain people?  Is this "condition" temporary?  Am I going to get over it, like a cold or the flu? If there were people I couldn't let know about this - and there certainly were - how should I act around them?  If I start changing my behavior, somebody will undoubtedly wonder what's going on.  I just wasn't sure what to do, and there weren't many places I could turn to.  It wasn't like it is today, with internet access at the push of a button, chat rooms where you can talk things out and get information from others.  Finding information wasn't easy, and I decided to just let my instincts take over.

The first thing I did after coming to this decision was go back to my room and re-write my punishment list, this time without any consideration or concern for myself.  I didn't care if the punishment was painful, humiliating, disgusting or resulted in public knowledge of my submissiveness.  My pen flew across the paper, and I ended up with over a hundred suitable penalties in short order, ranging from dressing like a girl in public, to eating shit and sucking off dogs.  Grabbing a stack of dimes from my dresser, I took the six pages of notes down to the local pharmacy, where there was a self-serve photocopier, and made eight copies, one for each of my Mistresses.  I carefully folded each one, placed them in separate envelopes, and set out to hand-deliver them.  The entire affair, from the time I started writing until the final sealed envelope was placed in the last cheerleader's delicate hands, took four hours.  Two weren't home - including my Goddess - but there was nothing I could do about that.  I'd try again tomorrow, and if all else, would take care of it before school on Monday.  I'd be certain to be waiting when they arrived.. 

Since I had my weekend job, as well as a morning paper route (this morning's deliveries were made by a sub, which would cost me more than I made in a day), I had few chores at home other than my own cleaning.  Mowing the lawn, of course, but I'd do that tomorrow, either before or after my paying customers.  It was Beth upon whom most of the chores fell, she who washed the dishes and vacuumed the floors.  With nothing else to do, and a strong desire to be of service to someone, I asked her if she would like to relax while I took care of the housecleaning.

As you might imagine, she was surprised at my request.  Typical among siblings, we weren't exactly best of friends, often going out of our way to irritate each other.  I always considered her a pest, and she thought I was just a big bully.  Ne'er the twain shall meet, and all that, you know?  Not today, though.  Beth spent the afternoon watching television while I cleaned the bathrooms, stopping only long enough to make sure she always had a fresh Coke, then returning to my/her chores.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked the third time I checked to see if she needed anything.

"I just feel like being nice to you, I suppose," I lied.  In reality, I was trying to apologize without really apologizing.  Besides, it gave me that warm feeling to be doing my sister's work.  I almost imagined either she or my Goddess were commanding me.  "Would you like to check my work, make sure it's acceptable to you?"

"Huh?" she asked, startled by my question.  "Uh, sure," she said, getting up from the couch.  I took the glass from her and followed her into our shared bathroom.

"Wow, you did a really good job!" she exclaimed.  "But where's your stuff?"  We'd always shared the bathroom counter, but now it was bare except for her hygiene and makeup items, which were neatly set in place.  I'd even picked fresh flowers from the garden and placed them in a vase.  The bathroom even smelled feminine.

"I figured you're growning up now, so you need the space.  I moved all my things into my bedroom.  I'll just bring in what I need, and take it out with me when I'm done," I explained.  "Just let me know if anything gets dirty, and I'll take care of it."

"Really?" she asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Really," I parroted, looking her in the eyes momentarily, then lowering mine.

"Well, this is a real change, but I think I like it."

"Thank you," I replied.  "Is there anything else you need from me today?  If not, I have a bit of studying to do before dinner."

"Uh, no, I don't think so."

The next morning, I got up a little earlier than normal, because it was Sunday and that meant major newspaper deliveries.  Weekdays, I only delivered about 60 papers, but Sunday I had over 100, so many that it took me two trips on my bike to get them all delivered.  I didn't use my bike today, though.  After rolling the papers, I hoisted my carrier over my shoulders and made my deliveries, placing each copy right on the doorstep.  If I'd ridden my bike, I'd have thrown them from the street instead, and that just wouldn't have been right.  From now on, I'd take special care with each paper, making sure none of my customers ever had to search for theirs.  As soon as they opened their doors, there it would be, waiting right on the porch.  The weather was nice, so I wore nothing by a pair of cotton shorts, a tank top and my tennis shoes.  No underwear and no socks.  I found that being dressed like that made me feel even more submissive than normal.

As soon as I got home from my route, I went into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee.  Everyone would be getting up soon, and I knew they'd all like a cup.  Even Beth, though hers was pretty much a cup of milk with a splash of coffee in it.  I guess it made her feel more grown up to be drinking coffee.  While the coffee was brewing, I emptied the dishwasher, putting last night's dishes away.  This was usually Beth's job, but I had nothing else to do at the moment.  When that was done, I got out the dishes and pans for breakfast.  Sunday meant pancakes, usually, so I pulled the package of mix out of the cupboard and read the instructions.  It didn't seem difficult, but Mom always used the mixer, and that would certainly wake everyone up.  So, I just got the ingredients together and staged everything on the table, ready to mix, then went back to my room and sat at my desk, reading over the punishment list I'd written the day before.

Everyone was surprised to find everything ready.  All Mom had to do was mix the ingredients, turn on the grill and cook.  I even cleaned up for her afterwards, clearing the table, loading the dishwasher and wiping everything down until it was spotless.  Mom and Dad barely noticed, I think, but Beth kept giving me really strange looks.

Once breakfast was over, it was time to get the lawn mower out and start taking care of my customers.  I told all of them that because I was a day late, there would be no charge.  Most tipped me, anyway, but a couple just nodded and went back inside, happy to have saved a few dollars.  I ended up with $30 for mowing ten lawns that day, quite a bit less than what I usually earned, since I normally charged $6.  Yeah, I know, that wasn't much, but remember, we're talking about the 1960's here.  Most of my friends were working for $1.35 an hour, if they had jobs.  I could do two lawns in an hour, and generally set my own schedule.

The rest of the day was easy, mostly just hanging out in the back yard or watching TV.  I wasn't much into sports, so while other guys would be down at the park tossing a baseball around or something, I'd usually just read or watch TV.  I liked reading the most, though, because I could escape my own reality through the words of others. 

The one thing I did need to do was take my day's earnings and go back down to the department store again.  I needed another complete gym uniform; mine was gone, except for the shoes.  I didn't have much time to waste, because by the time I realized I needed this stuff, it was a half hour until the store closed.  I was lucky at that, because back in those days, most stores weren't even open on Sundays.  So, I got on my bike and rode the twenty or so blocks, locking it to the rack on the curb and going inside.  As luck would have it, Debbie was clerking again.  She was the cheerleader who'd embarrassed me a few days earlier when I was buying a new jock strap.  She was also one of the two who weren't at home the day before when I tried to deliver my papers.  I'd hoped she'd be working, and brought her envelope with me.

"Ma'am, this is for you," I said quietly, setting my purchases on the counter and handing her the envelope.  "I hope you don't mind, but I've taken the liberty of re-writing my punishments for you.  I reviewed my original set, and they weren't really punishments at all, Ma'am."

"Fine, I'll read it later," she said.  "But I think you got part of your purchase wrong, didn't you?"

"Ma'am?" I asked, befuddled by her question.  I took inventory: gym shorts, shirt, jock strap and cotton socks.  "No, Ma'am, I think I have everything right."

"No, you don't," she insisted.  "These socks are all wrong," she said, holding them up.  "You need to get them from over there," she pointed towards the girls' department.  "You find ankle socks on the third aisle, towards the left end."

"Yes, Ma'am," I said, leaving everything on the counter and walking quickly to the are she'd indicated.  I did find them, right where she said.  My only concern was which style to purchase.  There were plain cotton athletic socks, knee socks,  some with pink toes, and others with frilly ankles.  They were all distinctively feminine, though.  I quickly made my decision and grabbed a pair of the thin, frilly ones.  I knew I'd be ridiculed in gym, but that was my problem.

"Good choice," she commented, ringing up my purchase.  It came to $15.30.  I handed her at twenty, and like before, she kept the change.  I didn't say anything, just took my bag of goods and left.

Monday morning came, and I found myself waiting in front of the school for my Goddess to arrive, so I could give her my revised list of punishments.  Her boyfriend - a college student who graduated from here the year before - dropped her off at the curb.  She just walked right by me, completely ignoring my presence, as though I wasn't worthy of being noticed by the likes of her.  She was right, of course, and I should not have expected her to even acknowledge me.  She did, though, looking over her shoulder as she passed by and instructing me to bring the list to my punishment session.  One of the other girls had apparently called her.

The day was fairly normal, until gym.  The other girls had taken their cue from Monique and completely ignored me.  It was only when I got into the locker room and started changing that things got difficult.

"Hey, what happened to your ass, man?" someone said.  I could see in the mirror hanging on the wall that faded welts and bruises were still very visible.  I blushed.

"Yeah," another chimed in.  "Who took the belt to you, your old man, or your girlfriend?"

This led to a raucous round of guffaws, but nothing like what happened when I sat down to put on my gym shoes and socks.  I feigned ignorance, claiming that my mother must have put my sister's socks in my drawer by mistake, and I hadn't noticed when I packed for school.   I held the socks up inquisitively, then shrugged my shoulders and put them on.  After all, I said, it was better than the black nylon dress socks I'd worn to school.

I got razzed about the socks all period while we were playing basketball.  Most of the guys called me "cutie pie," or "girly."  Even the coach got into it during our  uniform inspection - a staple of Monday gym, when he'd troop the line, making sure we were properly attired.

"Cute," he commented.  "Did you paint your toenails, too?"

I knew I'd only be able to get away wearing girls' socks one time, and I stammered the same excuse I'd given before.

The coach replied, "I guess I should be thankful you didn't get confused and pack your sister's panties," before continuing down the line.  My face burned bright red; having my toenails painted and wearing girls' panties were both on my punishment list, and I knew I would be forced to face that eventuality.

I stayed in the hot, steamy shower longer than the rest of the guys, keeping my face to the wall as much as possible in order to display the stripes I'd earned.  At this point, I didn't care what they thought.  They'd seen the welts on my ass, watched me put girl's socks on, and soon they'd see me wear panties, pink toenails, and if all my punishments were imposed, someday see "SISSY SLAVE" written on my ass in felt marker.  Fuck it, I didn't care what anyone thought anymore.  At least, for the moment, I didn't.

I decided to leave my gym shorts in the locker, too, rather than wearing them to punishment.  I'd probably lose another pair if I took them with me, and I didn't have enough money left to buy a new pair.  So, I bundled up my street clothes, stuck them behind the bush again, and walked naked to the girls' locker room.  This time I didn't try to hide, but knelt down with my back straight and my knees spread, my dick and balls fully exposed to anyone who might walk out of the locker room.

This time it was Mary and Susan, fifteen year old freshmen, identical twins, with light brown hair and green eyes.  Mary stared at me and started to giggle; Susan just motioned with her finger and said, "Come."  I lowered my hands to the ground and began crawling behind them, keeping my ass held high and my legs spread in order to maximize my humiliation.

My Goddess awaited back at the toilets, as usual.  I prostrated myself before her, gently kissing her tiny, beautiful feet.

"How may I serve you, Ma'am?" I asked in a tiny, soft voice.

"I understand you learned something last weekend," she replied by way of an answer.

"Yes, Ma'am, I did, Ma'am," I said quietly, rising to my knees but continuing to stare at the ground.  "I learned my proper place in life is at your feet, Ma'am."

"My feet, or anyone's feet?"

"Anyone's, Ma'am."

"And are you begging for our forgiveness for what you've done?"

"Oh, yes, Ma'am," I said earnestly.  "I beg with all my heart for forgiveness.  It was wrong of me to take my pleasure in touching you and the other girls, and I am ready to accept whatever punishment you believe is appropriate."

"Forgiveness is earned, not given," she said harshly, pulling on my hair and forcing my head up.  She stared in my eyes.  "You will begin your true punishment tomorrow, when we will start going through your list, one item at a time.  Then, when you're through with that list, you can start on the one we wrote."

"Yes, Ma'am.  Thank you, Ma'am," I replied. 

"For right now, I want you to open your mouth as wide as you can and look straight up," she commanded.  I did so, and she spat a huge glob of saliva directly into it. I started to wretch, but the look on her face warned me to hold position.  

"Don't swallow," she ordered.  "Crawl to each of the girls so they can spit in your mouth as well.  Once everyone has had their chance, then you can swallow."

Unable to answer, I simply nodded my head, the sensation of her spit sliding down the sides of my throat wanting to make me retch.  I crawled in turn to each girl, silently begging with open mouth, waiting for their spit to join that of their teammates.  When they were all finished, I swallowed, reveling in the absolute subjugation of the moment.

"How did it taste?" one of them asked. 

"Um...I didn't like it, Ma'am, but it made me feel...worthless."

"Good, because that's what you are, as worthless as scum on a toilet bowl," my Goddess reminded me.

"Okay, one last thing before you leave.  How long has it been since you've cum?"

The question was totally unexpected, and when I thought about it, I realized I hadn't jacked off in something like four or five days.  That was really unusual.

"I'm not sure, Ma'am.  I think it was Thursday, Ma'am," I replied as honestly as I could.

"That's a rather long time for a little stud muffin like you, isn't it?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I guess so."

"How often do you usually jack off?"

"Maybe once or twice a day, Ma'am," I answered, my face turning red again.  "Sometimes more." 

"My, my, what a nasty little boy," she said.  Several of the girls giggled; I just wanted to disappear.  "You jack off at school, too, don't you?

"Yes, Ma'am."  I can't remember - even with all that had gone on over the past week - when I'd been so embarrassed.

"Well, I see that we have two problems, then.  First, it's well known that adolescent boys are driven by their hormones, and unless they empty their balls regularly, they turn into sex maniacs.  We can't have you going around raping poor, innocent cheerleaders, can we?"

"No, Ma'am," I replied.

"But at the same time, we can't have you wasting time and using up all your energy playing with your pud, either."

"No, Ma'am."

"So what do you think the solution is?"

"Um...I don't know, Ma'am."

"Yes, you do.  Think about it, slug."

"Um, a restriction on how many times I'm allowed to cum, Ma'am?"

"You got it almost right.  From now on, you have to get permission before you can cum.  That permission must come from a female, any female, but I have a feeling you'll probably restrict your requests to the eight of us.  Now, just to be fair to the rest of the female population, we'll ensure you get a minimum of two orgasms each week.  You might not always like the way they happen, but you'll get at least two.  You can play with yourself all you want, but if you cum without permission, you'll be punished." 

"I understand, Ma'am."

"Oh, one other thing.  You will masturbate to orgasm - or not to orgasm - whenever any of us tell you to."

"Yes, Ma'am.

"Okay, do it."

"Ma'am?" I asked, confused.

"Show us how you pound that pathetic little pud of yours, but don't you dare even think about getting any of that nasty boy cum on any of us."

"Yes, Ma'am," I replied.  "May I sit on a toilet, Ma'am?  That's where I usually do it," I said truthfully.

"No, I don't think so.  You can just stay on your knees and stare at the floor.  I don't want you looking at any of our legs, either, slug."

"Yes, Ma'am," I said, spitting on my hand for lubrication before starting to stroke myself.  I was hard already, in fact had been most of the day, and it was only with great effort that I managed to get my dick to subside while I was changing.  I could feel my balls boiling in less than two minutes.

"Ma'am, may I please cum, Ma'am?" I asked, remembering to keep my eyes downcast.

"Angela, didn't you have something for him to cum on?" my Goddess asked. 

I saw the blonde hair, blue eyed Sophomore's feet step into my view, then her hand setting a slice of bread down on the floor.

"You're going to cum on the bread, and then eat your first cum sandwich," she told me.  Her statement, the realization that this would be the most humiliating act so far, and the fact that I'd not cum in at least 96 hours caused an immediate reaction.  I tried to keep my dick pointed at the slice of bread, but my world went black as my orgasm exploded.  It was the hardest, longest cum I could ever remember.  I finally opened my eyes, panting, to see semen not only soaking into the bread, but dripping from my hand and splattered across the floor.  A hand suddenly came out of nowhere, cuffing me across the head.

"I told you not to get any of that nasty shit on me, you slut!" my Goddess screamed.  I looked down as she lifted her foot, showing me a large drop that had landed right between two of her perfectly manicured toes.  "Clean it up!" she demanded.

I lowered my face to her foot and began carefully licking my own cum ejaculate, stopping only when she finally got tired of my ministrations, kicking me away.

"You got the floor dirty, too, you nasty boy!" one of the other girls commented.  "I hope you don't expect us to clean your mess up."

"No, Ma'am," I replied, dropping to my belly and slithering to each small puddle, first licking it up and then using my hair to dry the saliva off the floor.  It tasted different than when I licked it off my Goddess's foot; perhaps it was the cleaning solution, or just the taste of the feet that had been walking there before me. 

Finally, it was time for my "afternoon snack," as one of the girls called it.  By now, the bread was soggy, as cum had soaked through it.  Nonetheless, I picked it up with my hand, folded it in half like a sandwich, and slowly chewed it, savoring the flavor.  To be honest, I really couldn't taste the cum, but I knew I had to put on a good show if I didn't want to be punished more.

I noticed that the girls were having a quiet conversation while I was doing all this, but didn't really pay much attention to what they were saying.  It was none of my business, anyway, though I was sure it concerned me.  I was right.

"You got lucky, slime," my Goddess, Angelique, said when I was finished with my meal.  "I was going to have you give us all your money from your paper route and lawn mowing, but the girls convinced me otherwise."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Don't you think you should thank them, slime?"

"Yes, Ma'am.  I'm sorry, Ma'am."  I crawled to each of the teenagers, gently kissed each foot, and verbally thanked them.  When I was finished, I returned to my place in the middle of the restroom floor.

"Instead of taking your money, we decided that you can just spend it on us instead.  You'll keep accurate records, and we'll be checking, but you can keep five percent for yourself.  Everything else you'll spend on us.  We've also come up with a rotation list.  If you want to have your pathetic little orgasm, you have to ask whoever has ‘the duty.'  She's the only one of the eight of us who can give you permission.  You can still ask someone outside our little group, but somehow I think you'd prefer not to do that, right?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"The person on the list for that day has complete control over you, both at school and afterwards.  If you displease her, you probably won't get to cum.  Even if you're nice to her, you might not get to anyway, but I suggest you do your best."

"Yes, Ma'am," I replied again.

"You may only ask once per day, and she's the only one who can give you permission.  However, any of us can order you to play with yourself, and either cum or not, as we decide, whenever we want.  Understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You'll also be expected to buy lunch for whoever's turn it is, and if you're smart, you might consider little gifts, too.  Something to put us in the right frame of mind to let you relieve yourself.  Oh, and speaking of gifts, the list will also have our birthdays on it.  We each expect a gift, at least $50 in value.  Something nice, that shows you've given thought to us as individuals.  If we're not pleased...well, you won't want that to happen, will you?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Now, one more thing.  We already know about your lawn mowing business, and have decided you're going to expand it.  You'll do all your paying customers on Saturdays, and our lawns on Sundays.  Every week, all of us.  For free."

"Yes, Ma'am."  I'd already thought about this, and was going to offer the same thing anyway.  Most of my customers were every two weeks, but I'd do these eight weekly.

"Good.  Now, we've decided that we're going to do something different tomorrow.  There's a matinee after school that we've all been dying to see, and you're taking us."

"Uh...Ma'am...I'd love to take you all to the movies, but I'm broke.  I spent all my money on new gym clothes, Ma'am."

"Tough shit.  Figure a way," she replied, walking out with her troupe in tow.  I was going to be expected to accomplish even the impossible, it seemed.

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