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The Bag Lady Part 2


The next few days passed slowly for Chris. He was initially
terrified of his new Mistress, - after the ordeal of his
‘breaking in’! However, his new Mistress (Dianne) didn’t
want a simpering bundle of nerves to play with. Dominance
for her was a varied and protracted feast; full of spices
and unexpected flavours.

She refrained from using the most extreme forms of correction
- for a while. She began to wear clothes that she knew he liked.
Her new toy was entranced by well cut skirts and blouses;
high heels and satin slips. Stockings made his eyes glaze
over with sordid inner thoughts.

Chris stood before his new Mistress. He was wearing a short
(just above the knee), flowery dress ‒ a sort of 60’s style
with a zip at the back. His padded bra gave him a pair of cross-your-heart
breasts ‒ very obvious and slightly sluttish.

At that moment his knickers were around his knees (his Mistress
had pulled them down) and he was acutely aware of his enlarged
penis against the soft nylon of his slip.

His tight corset gave him a slim, but uncomfortable, waist
‒ and for Chris, the discomfort was somehow accentuated
by his helplessness. His hands were secured to a tough,
plastic belt that actually went quite well with the dress.


‘Now, I want to talk to you’. His mistress said.

‘Believe it or not, I am a woman of conscience. My desires
and my deeper beliefs sometimes come into conflict. You
see, I am a woman who really enjoys control. I enjoy playing
mind games. I want you to be my helpless slave. I want to tell
you what I am going to do to you and watch you struggle to free
yourself. I love to watch the look in your eyes as I approach
you with some instrument of torment.

Chris shuddered visibly.

That’s why it must be your choice!’, She stated, firmly.

‘I am going to give you the choice to stay or to leave. But
wait until you have heard my offer before you decide’.

Then, to Chris’ vast surprise, his Mistress said something
quite unexpected.

‘I’ll bet your dying to slide your hands up my skirt; aren’t
you petal?’.

Chris didn’t know what to say. His heart was in his mouth
‒ shock ‒ excitement.

Come on, don’t be shy ‒ answer your Mistress.

“Ooooh, Y-yes Mistress’ came his stuttering reply

It was true! The way she moved ;the sway of her hips and the
slow swing of her skirt; the
way that her breasts swelled beneath their enticing silk
‒ a proud challenge to his manhood. Now that he felt more
relaxed with his captor and the state of his shameful bondage,
he had become increasingly excited by the sight of this
woman ‒ Dianne ‒ his Mistress.

‘I’ve seen the way you look at me’, She said.

‘Listen, If you decide to stay, we shall see if we can find
a place for a little naughtiness in your training schedule.
Perhaps, you might find your face pressed against my slip.

‘Would you like to put your head up my skirt, Chris?’

’ Y.y..yes, Mistress.’

‘Of course, it won’t all be breast sucking and wanky times
for sissy Chris. I would gradually increase the intensity
of a variety of punishments. You will find youself, on many
occasions, strapped in your cot downstairs, waiting for
me to come down to torment you.

‘But, on the bright side, your punishments will begin at
a tolerable level and will be increased by small steady
increments. Your sexuality will be subject to control
by me ‒ and that means you will be kept in a constant state
of humiliation and feminisation ‒ mostly as a maid or as
a baby. Occasionally, you will be allowed to wear a housedress.

I know that this is not altogether unpleasant for you. But,
bear in mind, that you will often be wearing some sort of
penile restraint ‒ and that can be very frustrating indeed
‒ especially with a woman like me around ‒ isn’t that right

Chris was already certain in his mind what his reply would
be. His stiffened penis was evidence of has temptation,
but, this was a woman to be respected. He had absolutely
no doubt that if he agreed to stay with her, then she would
do exactly what she said she would do. And the chances of
him ever escaping were very small. No! this was a woman not
to be messed with.


Chris was shocked out of his thoughts and realized that
she had been waiting for a reply.

Oh, yes!, sorry Mistress.

‘Well then, time to decide! If you decide to stay then we
can pull your knickers up and we can go upstairs to the bedroom
and I might let you put your face under my skirt so you can
feel my slip and my legs before I punish you for that impudent

Bear in mind, that if you decide to stay, then from that moment
on ‒ I expect TOTAL obedience. Anything less, then you and
I will have a date with Mistress Poly ‒ do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes, Mistress’, yes, yes please, I want to leave’. Chris

‘Just hold on a moment! There is one more thing.’ She said.

‘If you decide to leave, then we will take your knickers
off and I will drive you to the town center and I will push
you out of the car. You will still be wearing the restraints,
the dress and that lovely slip. I will also make a couple
of phone calls to ensure that the press will be nearby.

‘Now, the way I see it, if you are a real man, then you will
have the courage to weather the storm that this little incident
will bring. That is, if you are a real man.

Now, alternatively, if you are a little cowardly pansy
that doesn’t deserve to masquerade about the streets as
a realand man, but rather, deserves to be ensnared pansified
and punished by a woman like me, then you will give mea nice
little curtsy and I will pull your knickers up. REMEMBER

‘Now, Duckie, what is it going to be? There are only two options
and if you waste my time I will be very annoyed? Shall we take
you out to the car, SHALL WE? COME ON!!

Chris Panicked and hovered in a terrible and sickening
moment of indecision. His last sensible thought was that
he might be able to escape. He knew he couldn’t bear the shame.
He quickly curtsied.

‘Right then. Let’s pull your knickers up

Chris stood there, stricken. But then. his Mistress said.
‘I expect that you want to go upstairs and have a peep up my
skirt, don’t you sissy?’ ‘Well then, why don’t you give
me another nice girly curtsy and I’ll see what I can do.’

Chris blushed and tried to curtsy nicely for his Mistress.

‘No, no, not like that. I want to catch a glimpse of you pretty
underwear. Imagine that you are giving me the come-on.
You know! Give me a little smile and show me more than you

Chris tried to comply but he just felt too silly. Also, he
was still shocked by the recent turn of events. ‒ What had
he let himself in for?

‘I know something that might help.’

She disappeared into the hallway and returned a few moments
later with a dainty little apron. It was white satin and
there was a small pocket sown into the front.

She showed Chris the pretty garment.

‘Look, she said.’ The pocket has it’s own little button.
‒ Isn’t that sweet? Let’s look inside.’

She opened the little pocket and reached inside. She pulled
out a neatly folded polythene bag with an elastic band secured
around it’.

‘Look, ! Your favourite instrument of chastisement’,
She said, ironically.
Chris’ lowered his eyes in fear. He dared not say anything.
Previously he had been severely punished for speaking
out of turn. She popped the bag and the elastic band back
into the apron-pocket.

‘Turn around and let me tie it on.’ She instructed.

Chris obeyed.

‘It will help to keep your mind focused upon pleasing me.’

‘Now!, let’s try it again. I want to see a nice sexy curtsy.
I want to see that lovely slip of your’s ‒ there’s a good girl
‒ pretty little pervert!

Atfer five minutes of practice, Chris eventually managed
to satisfy his mistress with his display of dainty obedience.

‘Ok, that’ll do for now. Let’s get you upstairs.’

Chris could hardly breath as he followed his Mistress up
the stairs. He ached more than he had ever ached at the sight
of his Mistress’s skirt swaying so wonderfully before
his face.

In the bedroom she instructed him to lie on the bed.

From a drawer she produced some lengths of chord.

‘Spread your legs’, She said.

Chris obeyed.

She then proceded to fasten his ankles to the posts at the
lower end of the bed.

Then, she propped up her slave with some pillows; arranged
some for her self and finally, she lay beside her helpless
slave and kissed him on the cheek.

The smell of her perfume flooded his mind and out of the mist
of confusion and excitement, he felt something stirring
in his knickers.

Then something happened that virtually blew the top of
his head off: He felt his Mistress’s hand slip up his dress
and come to a rest, gently touching his balls,

‘If your hand was free I’d tell you to fondle my breast.;
She said.

If she had been touching his aching prick right then, he
would of blown the lot. She just let her fingers stray over
his twitching balls.

‘Let’s look at a picture book.’ She reached behind her for
a large photo album. She opened the book on his lap. Inside
were many pictures that she had collected from magazines
and the internet. The vast majority of the images were of
helpless men in baby attire being chastised in a variety
of ways by dominant women. Many of the images portrayed
various forms of ball torture and chastity devices. But,
to Chris’ discomfort and anxiety, a significant number
of the images featured asphyxiation ‒ and most of these
involved a polythene bag!

He cast a pair of frightened eyes towards his Mistress.
She looked at him and smiled ‒ ‘Look1’, She said.

She was lifting her skirt to reveal her slip and the tops
of her stockings.

Chris gasped, as she slipped her hand into his knickers
and begin to work his prick.

Chris’s mistress leant close to his ear and whispered.


‘I want you to come soon, my little sissy slave. And I promise,
later, I will wear my nicest dress and slip and I will let
you do something exciting. I want you to come, and, whatever
is showing on the page ‒ I promise, I will do it to you- for
real. Come! Come on ‒ ooh look, would you like to be a pretty
baby slave like him? (she pointed at a picture). I’m going
to make you my pretty little baby slave FOREVER. Come on,
my helpless little pansy girl ‒ all trapped and in your pretty
dress. Oh, look at the picture. See the little pansy man
doing his curtsy for his Mistresses friends? Do you see
look? You’ll have to meet some of my friends soon. Ooh, look,
the helpless little baby is having his botty whipped ‒ he
must have been very naughty. Are you going to be a naughty
little girl ? ‒ ARE YOU? There’s no escape - so let yourself
go. Come on, come into your knickers and be my little pansy
pervert toy to play with forever.

She felt the swell of the orgasm come. And at just the right
moment, she turned the page.

Chris exploded!

She worked every drop out of him.

‘See’. It’s not all bad being my pansy slave, is it?

When Chris recovered a little, he realized that he hadn’t
been able to see what was on the page the book had been open
at when he came ‒ he was too - distracted. He wanted to know
what fate had in store for him. He looked enquiringly at
the book which now lay closed upon his Mistress’s lap. She
had placed a page marker at the place.

‘Oh, you’ll find out all about that later. Don’t worry petal,
you’ll get to enjoy it -… after a few months.’

She gave him a strange smile and then said.

‘I think baby needs a little sleep and then we can give you
a lovely bath. Let me get the sleeping hood.’

She rummaged in a drawer and found what she was looking for
and slipped it over Chris’ head.

Now, close your eyes and go to sleep. I don’t want to hear
a sound out of you for the rest of the day.

The hood was a leather device that could be secured with
straps. There were holes for breathing but there were no
holes for his eyes.

Then he heard his mistress leave the room. And he was helpless
and alone.

After what seemed like a long while, he fell asleep.

Several hours later, Chris was awake. He was lying where
his mistress had left him with the most fantastic erection.
He couldn’t get the memory of recent events out of his mind.
It seemed to Chris that his wonderful experience of a few
hours before had transformed his terrifying Mistress
into the most sexy woman on the planet

It seemed like an age before he heard her come back into the

‘Awake are we? Ok, Lets get that hood off.’

He lay helplessly before her.

She was now dressed differently. She wore slacks and a housecoat.
Chris was a little disappointed.

‘Time for poos, wees and a lovely bath and some din-dins.’

The following hour was an embarassing time for Chris. At
no time was Chris released totally from bondage. He was
always in his Mistress’s control. He was bathed whilst
handcuffed and, still handcuffed, he was humiliated at
having to use the potty and be cleaned up by his mature captor.


To distract himself from the discomfort and embarrassment
of what was happening, Chris’ mind wandered over the last
few days. His Mistress was increasingly referring to him
as her baby! This puzzled him. He was under the impression
that he was to be his Mistress’s pansy maid, or sissy as well,
not just her baby. At that moment he certainly felt like
a baby ‒ he was being treated like one.

These thoughts evaporated when finally he stood, clean
and naked and helpless before his womanly nemesis.

‘Ok!’ She said, ‘Let’s get the hood back on’.

For the next ten minutes Chris experienced being dressed
whilst being unable to see. He was helpless as chains were
alternated and various items of clothing found their place
upon his body. He felt a well of fear as he felt the little
silk apron being tied around his waist. One of thes last
item was something that fitted around his cock and balls
‒ he wondered what it was.

His mistress busied herself around the room. Then Chris
heard her leave.

Chris stood stupidly still. His hands had been secured
at his waist and there was simply nothing he could do. How,
how, how was he going to escape the grasp of this woman.

Time passed slowly in the dark.

Eventually, Chris’ Mistress returned and he found himself
dazzled when she removed his hood. When his eyes adjusted,
he saw that his mistress was wearing the most ravishing
of blouses and a satin skirt that made him want to drown in

He looked down and saw what he was wearing. He was dressed
as baby girl ‒ all in pink satin and lace. His hands had been
secured in little pink mittens. They weren’t mittens really
‒ they had no place for his thumbs. They were simply little
pouches that were secured around his wrists with buckles
and straps. Short chains attached his mittens to the belt
with little metal clips. Although there were no locks of
any sort, Chris was completely helpless to free himself
because his hands were so effectively incapacitated by
the mittens. From that moment Chris was constantly having
the urge to stretch out his enclosed fingers. But, of course,
his strong cotton mittens were far too small to permit this.

He felt an utter shame and dismay. And, yet, through it all,
there was also an unwanted but uncontrollable excitement.
This situation ‒ of being helpless and feminised, had always
been in him as a deep unfathomable desire, and the reality
of it was mentally intoxicating. And so again, helplessly,
he began to swell in his knickers. But, as he did, he felt
the most acute discomfort.

‘Look what I made for you! Chris’ mistress lifted his dress
, pulled down his frilly satin knickers to his knees. Chris
saw the source of his aching discomfort. Secured around
his cock and balls with a small leather strap, was a silken
purse. It completely encapsulated his manly parts. It
was made of the most delicious of materials. There was lace
trim. The horror of the garment dawned slowly upon Chris.
The purse only allowed a frustrating semi-erection; just
enough to begin the irresistible urge for a full and satisfying
phallic experience, before it’s silken slack was used
up ‒ as it was at that very moment..

‘Look, ‘she said, ‘It’s made out of the exact same material
as my slip.’ With that she lifted her dress a little to let
Chris have a look.

Chris’ penis jerked against it’s confinement.

Being a helpless pretty pansy boy is a little bit more uncomfortable
now, isn’t it? ’ His Mistress said, (gently rubbing the
source of his increasing frustration).

‘If you want me to take this off then I’m afraid you are going
to have to be a very, very good little sissy baby.’

She then produced a large pacifier with a ribbon attached.
She pushed it into his mouth and secured it around his head
with the ribbon.

`That's better.' She said.

`Now, lets get you into the high chair'.

Chris was led into the kitchen. The high chair belied its
name. Actually it would have been more appropriate to call
it a low chair. Soon, Chris found himself strapped into
the chair and helplessly watched as the dominant woman
began to prepare dinner.

She was a truly sexy, mature woman. Chris couldn't
help it but became aroused as he looked up from his low vantage
at his new Mistress - aroused and extremely uncomfortable.
Her lovely skirt moved provocatively about her voluptuous
volumes. He guessed (and correctly) that she was quite
aware of the power of her physical presence. She knew how,
for a submissive man, the sight of a woman from below could
be the most exciting and emasculating of experiences.
And she also knew that his prick was in it’s silken prison.


Soon chris found himself being fed a mashed up mixture of
vegetables and potatoes. He hardly had time to finish one
mouthful when, with a sing-song, `open wide', another
dollop was forced into his mouth'.

After the meal, Chris was lead back to the bedroom.


‘Come over to the chair.’ His Mistress instructed.

Chris followed. His mistress sat down and crossed her legs.

‘Stand there’, She directed.

‘Now, remember earlier, when I promised that you could
put your head under my skirt?

Well, now is the time.’

Chris’ heart was in his mouth. He nearly fainted when she
pointed to the floor and said ‘KNEEL”. He was bent up with
excitement, but also, and distressingly, because of the
terrible and frustrating predicament that his manhood
was in.

She pointed to the hem of her dress ‒ ‘Start there’. You were
once a man ‒ I presume you still remember what to do ‒ use your
mouth. I want to be pleased.

Chris leant forward and began to kiss her legs. He breathed
his passion upon them He bit and nibbled them -oh so gently
- and he licked them and kissed them again. And as he did,
the breathing of his mistress betrayed a mounting excitement


She lifted her skirt a little higher and exposed the lace
hem of her slip and his kisses became more urgent. In the
heat of his breath and the increasing passion of his kisses
- she felt an animal in him ‒ an animal that would suck her
flesh through her stockings ‒ if she let it..

She lifted her skirt a little higher and revealed the bare
skin above her stockings. And he devoured her. He ravished
each delicious inch as it was offered to him. Each morsel
consumed in a growing hunger that she controlled. Already
she was ready for him. She was damp and in a state of urgent
desire. She placed her legs on either side of her slave and
pushed his head deep into the steaming tropic of her sex.

His senses were consumed by her wonderful presence. He
enquired with his mouth at the silk wall of her knickers
and knocked upon the door with the pressing of his tongue.
He ran the striations of his teeth through the soft material
and he heard her moan. And then her hand came and moved aside
the curtain and he fell into the steaming ocean that is woman.


The flower had already opened, and Chris kissed it and consumed
it and drank from it to the point of his Mistress’s shuddering

In the midst of her orgasm she pushed him away with her foot,
and he remained, prostate before her. Not out of respect
or fear of her, but, because it was the only way he could relieve
the discomfort of his cruel confinement.

They remained like that for a few moments. When she had recovered
sufficiently, she stood up and straightened her skirt.


She went to a drawer and produced some rope and other things
‒ one item was a riding crop, the other item looked like a
little walking stick. It was about the same length as the
riding crop and it had a loop of leather at the end.

‘Lie on your back.’ She instructed ‒ I am going to tie your
ankles together.

This she did. Then, she lifted his dress and pulled down
his knickers. She produced the little walking stick. The
leather loop went around his silken purse and, with a twist,
she ensnared Chris’ manhood and his balls.

When she had finished she said, ‘What you did for me a little
while ago was lovely, petal, and you are quite a good little
baby girl for giving your mummy-mistress so much pleasure.
Unfortunately, there is still the little matter of your

‘Punishment, mistress?’. There was a quaver in Chris’
voice when she said this.

Oh yes. You have been a despicable little pervert and I am
going to give you a good bagging.

‘A BAGGING? But why? Please…oh please, please’.

‘Now SHUT UP and listen or I will bag you NOW.’

She bent down and grapped his apron. She was soon inside
the pocket and retrieving the plastic bag

‘LOOK.. Shall I put the bag over your head NOW ‒ SHALL I?’

‘No, please….’.

‘Well then! Before I put the bag over your head and secure
it with the elastic band and smother torture you, I am going
to give your baby balls a new experience. Now, I want to know
exactly how much pain you can take.

It works like this! I give you some slaps on your baby- balls
with my riding crop and you wiggle about; - not that wiggling
about will do you any good, though. I have this little guide
rod to help me keep your balls just where I need them.

‘Now petal, gradually, I am going to slap you balls a little
harder. Now, don’t worry, because as soon as you feel that
you can’t take it any more, just tell me and I will stop. Then,
after a little rest, you and I can go downstairs for that
date with mistress poly

She waved the bag in front of his face.

‘ And perhaps, just perhaps, if you are a good baby girl and
can take a lot of baby slaps on your baby balls, perhaps mistress
poly won’t be too cruel. But mind, sissy cry-babies get
extra baggings.’

And with that, she began ‒ slap…, slap…, slap.., slap………..

Chris was soon writhing about all over the floor trying
to escape the constant and increasing assault on his tender
parts. There was no escape, he was at too great a disadvantage.
She simply held the rod tightly and positioned his testicles
precisely for the next slap of the crop. Although Chris’
body twisted and turned, his balls remained exactly where
his mistress wanted them to be.

‘Oh please please please….PLEEEEEEASE!!!’ He shrilled.

‘Do you want me to stop?

‘NO mistress no ‒ oh please mistress….. please PLEEEEASE.


‘Just tell me when to stop, petal’.

And so it went on for some little while until Chris could
stand it no longer.

‘OH GOD STOP _ I’M READY, I’M READY’, He finally screamed.


‘Are you ready to see mistress poly?’…slap


She ceased her chastisement.

She knelt down and untied Chris’ ankles.

‘Now, you lie there and have a little rest - I’ll be back soon.’

Chris’ Mistress went out of the room and attended to some
other things for a while. Chris remained curled up on the
floor, waiting for the ache in his balls to subside. His
heart jumped in apprehension when his captor finally returned.


She grabbed the guide rod, and gave it a tug. ‘STAND UP’,
She barked.

Chris struggled to his feet.and his Mistress began to lead
him downstairs to the basement. She carried the folded
polythene bag with the elastic band around it and Chris
was terribly aware of it.

Chris wanted to fall to his knees and plead with his terrible
tormentress; to press his face against her skirt and sob
and beg for his freedom. But, his mistress held the guide
rod tightly in her hand and he could do nothing but follow
her. Besides, he believed, deep down, that she would only
enjoy his pathetic pleadings and that it would make no difference
at all to his fate. It might even make things worse. And so,
he was led by her, helplessly, down the steps, to his punishment.

It seemed that time was moving very fast. All too quickly,
he found himself strapped into his cot with his legs spread-eagled
and secured to the bars at the bottom. His Mistress had already
removed the elastic band and was unwrapping the polythene
bag. She was now shaking air into it so she could slip it over
his head. And now the bag was coming towards him. Chris tried
to raise himself on his elbows as she approached with the
bag. His fingers searched frantically, like two spiders
in matchboxes for an escape from their mittened bondage.

Unexpectedly, she stopped, placed the bag upon the chair
and went to the another part of the basement. She returned
with two straps. She looped them through her slaves elbows
and secured them tightly to the sides of the cot so he was
even more helpless than he was before.

‘Here it comes.’ She said ‒ smother time for Pansy’

It was then that Chris couldn’t stop himself from bursting
into a fit of pathetic pleading..

‘PLEASE PLEASE MISTRESS please don’t do this to me. I will
do anything ANYTHING ‒ please, oh please’. It seemed as
if Chris were close to tears.

He looked up with his pleading eyes to see her smiling smugly
at him. She was enjoying every moment of it.

‘Please Mistress. Don’t, oh, don’t Mistress. Anything
but that’.

‘OK, NOW LISTEN.’ She suddenly demanded.

Was there something in her voice that offered a grain of
hope? Chris desperately wanted to believe so.


Chris went very silent

‘Do you want that? Shall we have an hour of smothery-panic
time? Or perhaps Sissy Chris wants to know what a real smothering
is like? I can get a stop watch ‒ shall we make it three minutes
with the bag and the elastic band?‒ just enough time to leave
you here and make a cup of tea. I wonder if you would still
be conscious when I get back? I don’t think so.

‘Now listen, you have one chance. I know damn well that given
the first opportunity you will try to escape from me. Now,
if you don’t want to experience an hour of panic bagging
I have an offer for you. Instead of being punished with this
this evening - (she pointed at the bag she was holding),
‘I want you to agree to a little personality adjustment.
The seduction of your successful career and that over heated
brain of yours will always hinder your progress towards
the sort of slave that I want. However, I think that I have
a solution.’

‘Look! You decide ‒ panic bag now or long-term therapy?
….Or shall I decide?’

She moved toward him with the bag..


His tomentress smiled and sat at the edge of the cot. You
are such a sweet little girl. Do you really want to be my perfect
little baby slave?

Chris was momentarily paralysed by the Change in her tone.‘….Yes
Mistress…. Oh yes, Mistress’.He eventually blurted out.
He was so relieved he felt tears welling in his eyes. He even
felt a sort of joyous burst of love for his Mistress at that

‘Ok, then ‒ And as a little reward - It’s picture book and
wanky time for baby Chris.

‘Now, don’t think that Mistress poly is off the menu for
good ‒ just this evening. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Mistress’. Chris couldn’t get the disappointment
out of his voice.

Chris’ Mistress went and fetched the photo album with the
pictures in it. And sat at the edge of the bed. She lifted
Chris’ skirt and felt the silk purse.

Of course, he was flaccid. ‘It’s all been a bit of a trauma
for the poor pervert’ She thought to herself, smiling inwardly
and wickedly to herself..

She quickly removed it. And began to entice some life into
the poor man’s prick. She leant over him and let him catch
the scent that she had put on her blouse.

‘Let me put some pillows behind you back so that you can see
more clearly.’, she said

She opened the book on his lap.

‘Lets look at some pictures towards the back’, she suggested.

Chris soon responded to the images that she showed him combined
with the tender attentions she was giving to his prick.
He was soon much more composed and very stiff indeed.

‘Ooh, look, That baby slave must have been very good! His
Mistress as letting him suck her breast whilst she strokes
his baby willy. Would you like that?

‘Oooh, yes Mistress.

‘Well, perhaps in a few weeks if your therapy proves to be
effective. Talking about therapy! Lets look at where we
left off last time, shall we? Remember?

She found the bookmark and opened the page. It was headed
with the words:



Upon the page was a large black and white picture of a man
in a party dress. His face was all screwed up - he was crying.
The obviously dominant woman beside him was holding in
one hand a very large polythene bag. The sort that party
dresses come back from the cleaners in.

Below were the words:

“having ensared the arrogant, pushy little pervert that
had insulted her, she took great
pleasure in informing him as to what exactly was going to
happen over the next few

Chris glanced a worried glance at his Mistress.

‘Yes, petal. This is the therapy that I have in mind for you.
These images come from a story that I found on the internet.
I have arranged them all in order. Let’s turn the page and
see what it’s all about.

She felt his penis shrink in her hand ‒ she was not displeased.

The next page made Chris shudder and stretch against his
bonds. There was an image of the same man, he was still in
his dress, but now he was strapped into a cot in much the same
way that Chris was now. However, in the image the soft polythene
bag that featured on the page previous was now firmly secured
over his man’s head like a large sagging, transparent beach

The woman in the image had a book open at her side and these
words could be clearly seen:

‘The bag is not intended to cause immediate distress. It’s
function is to keep the
brain starved of oxygen for long periods of time. The result
of this is to
cause accumulative cell death in the brain. However, it
is known that cells that
are active during the therapy are less likely to die than
cells that are inactive.
This knowledge can be used to ‘prune’ most functions whilst
preserving a
selected few. In most cases, five months of therapy will
be sufficient to achieve
a huge variety of possible results.’

Although, the woman was glancing down at the book, she could
be seen massaging the penis of her victim and, with her other
hand, she was directing her victim look at a picture of a
man being suckled by a large lady.

Chris was crying inside.

His Mistress turned another page. It was headed with the
words ‘Five Months Later’

The image was of a group of women all laughing at the same
poor pathetic man. He wore a stupid smiling expression
and there was a caption: He was depicted as saying these

‘My Mummy used the big bag and made me the bestest sissy girl
in all the world. Shall I do my curtsy dance now, Mummy?’

After a few very uncomfortable moments, Chris’ Mistress
stood up and went to a part of the room that he couldn’t see.

When she returned she was carrying a large thin polythene
bag ‒ just as was depicted in the story.

‘I think that we both know what is going to happen now, don’t
we petal?

You can cry and struggle if you want to. But that will make
it a little more difficult to focus on the pictures I want
to show you. This treatment doesn’t stop until you come.
I suggest that you concentrate on getting yourself all
worked up with that sordid and perverted imagination of
yours. Otherwise, well I suppose it is going to be a very
difficult time for you and perhaps we won’t need the full
five months to prune that arrogant mind of yours..

‘It took me ages to find one with no holes’

She waved the bag through the air a couple of times to fill
it and Chris was helpless as she came towards him and slipped
it over his head. She secured it round his kneck with some
ribbon and then stood and watched him ‒ but did nothing.

‘Chris quickly began to get worried. Why wasn’t she wanking

Then, she said, ‘Say, ‘Please mummy, make me into the bestest
sissy girl in all the world’’ ‒‘AND SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT.’

Chris quickly complied.

‘All right then’.She slipped her hand up his dress.

‘What shall we look at?’, she mused as she flipped the pages
of the book.

‘Ah, here’s one!’ Chris was already having difficulties
in the larger bag and he began to panic.

Calmly, his mistress removed the bag, turned it inside
out, waved it through the air again and replaced it over
his head.

‘This is a long term process.’ She stated absently.

The following twenty minutes or so were quite difficult
for Cris. His Mistress didn’t want him to come immediately,
and so, would stimulate him only sufficiently to keep him
erect and in a state of arousal.

Chris tried frantically to jerked his penis into her hand
to try to bring the moment closer ‒ but, of course, she was
prepared and immediately loosened her grip. Thus she kept
him, always starved for breath and searching for an orgasm
‒ grasping at whatever could make him aroused in the images
that she was showing him.

‘Ooh, look I like this one, petal. He’s getting shagged
and bagged at the same time!’

Then, she said ‘You can always comfort yourself with the
thought that you might escape. Perhaps that keen mind of
yours can find a way to outwit me. My guess is, given your
smarts on thone hand, and my particular areas of expertise
on the other, well, I think that in five months time my friends
and I are going to be treated to a lovely pretty curtsy dance
from you.

And chris, finally shot his load.

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Well written, just not my "cup of tea".