I smiled and nodded once, a queen accepting tribute. He knew there was no escape. This was the moment he became mine, not just in the play of pain and pleasure but in every waking thought.
I watched my new sissy, with trembling hands, sweat beading at his temples as he worked the ring behind his testicles, his breathing shallow and quick. I made sure he bought one that was deliberately too small—emasculating—he had to push his throbbing shaft down with his thumb, it pulsed against his fingertip in shameful eagerness even as he tried to slip the translucent pink tube over his all too swollen cock, which betrayed him by throbbing harder at the touch of cold plastic. His cheeks burned as he pushed his erection downward, bending it painfully against its nature, fighting the masculinity that refused to accept defeat.
His cock slipped out of the smooth plastic tube again and again each failure aggravating his humiliation. Finally, he got it. His breath caught as he aligned the lock, the metal hasp sliding home with a decisive snap that seemed to echo through the room. Fate sealed.
Holding the tiny key between his fingers, he kneeled before me. He looked up, eyes glazed with submission as the last embers of his resistance flickered and died out. I took the key and hung it on his hook.
“You look perfect,” I said, my voice velvet and steel all at once. “Now lift your skirt. Show me.”
I snapped a few pictures, which would be displayed on the wall below his chastity key.
“Do you understand now?” I whispered, clutching his caged clitty. Pulling him down to my stilettos.
“Yes, Mistress,” he said. The words were a surrender and a prayer.
Note to readers: This is a seven-page Femdom Forced Feminization Erotica Short Story.
