Forced Sissy
Forced sissy looks best when the man is still trying to pretend he isn’t one. Kitty and I had already dressed him, locked him, and painted his lips before I even spoke. I crouched in front of him, tilted his chin up, and asked if he still thought he was a real man. He hesitated. That was all the invitation we needed. Kitty held his hands behind his back while I began the real humiliation — slow, detailed, and impossible to escape.
We made him repeat every degrading word. We made him pose. We made him thank us for every new layer of pink and lace we added. Every time he blushed harder I pushed further. Kitty would laugh and add another rule, another demand, another way to remind him he no longer belonged to himself. By the time we had him on all fours between us, the fight was already gone. All that remained was a trembling, locked, lipstick-stained forced sissy who only wanted to please.
I took his mouth first while Kitty watched and instructed. Then we switched. We kept him there until both of us were satisfied, then made him clean us with long, careful strokes while we described exactly how pathetic he looked. The more he tried to hide his face, the more we forced him to look at us. That is the heart of the humiliation — not just the clothing or the cage, but the slow, deliberate stripping of every last scrap of pride.
When the session ended we kept him on the line for phone sex that stretched the same cruelty into the night. Kitty and I took turns describing every detail back to him while he stayed locked and aching. We made him thank us for the training. We made him ask for more. Phone sex is how we keep a forced sissy soft and obedient long after the lipstick has been wiped away.
If you are ready to be trained by both of us, you already know the numbers. Come soft. Leave softer.
— Juliette