I Humiliate My Followers

This is a huge goal of mine. I want to be forced to dress up and forced to walk around outside in a strange city all day.

You’re on your hands and knees, tight pantyhose covering your legs and ass, holding your penis tucked against the crotch so it can’t swell.

He walked in ten minutes ago, you know he saw you, but he hasn’t acknowledged you, so you kneel there, knees sore, practically shaking in anticipation.

You hear a phone ring on speaker phone, he’s calling someone.

“Hello,” you hear your wife’s voice, soft, sultry, the voice she uses for him.

“My birthday present?” he asks.

“Your present?” she asks, feigned innocence.

“Your sissy husband? Kneeling here in my foyer.”

“Happy Birthday, baby,” you hear her voice, “I hope you like it.”

“I like it, I like it very much. I don’t see instructions, though, what can I do with it.”

You wife pauses, you hear her take a deep breath. “Anything you want.”

He laughs. “Anything?”

“An…anything,” she says, “just…no permanent marks.”

“You know me better than that, love,” he says to her. 

“I know,” she says, “I know.”

“You know what I’m going to do to him,” he said.

“I…I know,” she says.

“If I lock it, I’m holding the key.”

“I know,” she says again, “we…I told him.”

I was shaking. She had told me, told me he might do that. I hoped he wouldn’t but somehow expected he would.

“After I lock him, I’m going to use him,” he promised, “all of him.”

“I know, Daddy, that’s why I gave him to you, I know.”

So hot! How humiliating with everyone knowing!

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