Sissy Stepdad

Sissy Stepdad

Chapter IV

Even with the car's heater on high, I shivered, The damp, sweaty basketball jersey was the only thing I had on, and I didn't know when I'd be wearing anything else.  We continued driving, my mind so befuddled by now that I had no idea where we were.  I was getting scared, my mouth becoming dry.  I licked my lips, and tasted the acrid urine that had dried on them.  I'd almost forgotten about that, but the memory of how I'd abased myself before those beautiful, demanding girls came back in a rush.  I could feel my dick start to rise once again.  The driver glanced over at me, a knowing look in his eyes.

"Getting excited, are you?" he asked with a grin.

"Uh...remembering something from earlier, Sir," I mumbled.

"Scared?"

"A little, Sir," I answered almost truthfully.  In fact, I was terrified. 

"You needn't be," he replied calmly.  "Nothing terrible is going to happen to you.  You won't be hurt, not really.  In fact, you might enjoy it.  Mostly, you'll just watch and take care of whatever we need taken care of."

"Yes, Sir," I said, still unconvinced.

I rode in silence for nearly an hour, all too aware that I was completely at this man's mercy.  Even if I tried jumping out of the car at a stop light, there would be too many questions to answer, both to the police and my parents.  I was quite literally stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place.  I'd made my decision when I got in the car, and now I would have to live with it.  A sudden, worrisome thought jumped into my head.

"Sir?  My parents...they're expecting me home soon."

"Actually, they're not, Pansy," he said, using that humiliating name I'd been told to identify myself with.  "Arrangements have been made."

"Arrangements, Sir?"

"Yes, nothing you need to concern yourself with, though.  Everyone is okay, and you'll return home in the morning.  Now just relax.  Take a nap if you can, because I don't want you falling asleep during the party.  We'll be at our destination in a bit."  For some reason, his voice had a calming effect on me.  I had to admit I was exhausted, having had very little sleep the night before.

"Yes, Sir," I yawned.  I was tired, and the heater had finally taken the chill out of my bones.  Fatigue had finally overcome apprehension, and I did manage to fall asleep.

The change in the engine's sound awoke from my nap.  We were slowing down to pull off the main highway. Groggily, I rubbed my eyes and looked around.  Nothing but a tree-lined drive.  I looked over at the driver.

"Almost there, little one."  Well, it was better than being called "Pansy," I thought.

A few hundred yards later, a house came into view.  More than a house, I corrected myself, a large, Victorian mansion, it looked like.  Several cars - all late-model luxury or sports models - were parked on the circular, gravel-covered drive.  The driver pulled up beyond the other cars, stopping some distance from the door and turning off the engine.

"Welcome to my home," he said.  "I would prefer not to have that dirty rag you're wearing smelling up my house, so you'll have to leave it outside.  You can just drop it on the ground when you get out," he ordered matter-of-factly.  "From this point on, you'll do everything you're told, without hesitation.  So far, you've not displeased me.  Continue to be respectful of all you come in contact with, remain obedient, and everything will be fine."

"Yes, Sir," I responded as I climbed out of the car.  Closing the door behind me, I pulled my arms through the jersey and let it fall to the ground, standing naked now before him.  He seemed demanding, but not threatening.  It just felt right to follow his instructions.

"Come now, we need to get you cleaned up and ready for the party."  He walked towards the front door, not even looking back to make sure I was following.  I felt...strange, I guess...walking behind him naked, but it was dark out now, and the house was fairly isolated.  Whatever embarrassment I might have felt, though, I instinctively knew would be nothing compared to the humiliation I might encounter once inside.

I was somewhat surprised to find that nobody seemed to be around when we entered.  As I stood just inside the doorway, once again shivering, I took in my surroundings.  The entry opened into a small foyer, beyond which I could see what appeared to be a larger room to my front, and a stairwell to my left.  I followed him upstairs, three flights to a small attic room.

"This is the servant's quarters," he explained, "though you won't be spending much time here.  This is where you would live if you were staying longer."

"Yes, Sir," I answered, looking around.  It was dingy and sparsely furnished, unlike what I'd seen of the rest of the house.  An unfinished plywood floor; a tiny, dirt-caked window to the outside, and insulation over bare beams for a ceiling.  There was a single wool blanket folded on the bare mattress of the metal, military-style bunk.  Other than that, the only "furniture" was a shelf and clothes bar mounted on the wall.  A chamber pot sat on the floor next to the bed.  There was minimal heat, and even less ventilation.  I stood there, shivering in my nakedness.

"Wait here while I get your uniform for this evening," he said.

"Yes, Sir," I replied again, watching him close the door, then hearing him throw the bolt, effectively locking me in this quasi-jail cell.  I hadn't noticed until then that the heavy, solid wood door could only be locked from the outside.  Any occupant - me, at the moment - could easily be imprisoned here, with no expectation of privacy.  I had to pee - the cold was having its normal effect on my bladder - but wasn't sure whether I should use the chamber pot.

Fortunately, it was only a few minutes later when I heard the door being unlocked again.  I rose as Sir - I still didn't know what to call him - entered with a small cardboard box, setting it on the tiny shelf.

"We need to get you cleaned up first.  You'll be handling food and drinks, among other things," he explained.  It was the "other things" I was worried about, but I followed him back down one flight of stairs to a well-appointed bathroom.

"Take a shower.  You may use the hot water," he stated flatly, as though this was some sort of unusual privilege.  "No more than five minutes, starting now.  If you have to pee, do it in the shower.   You won't have an opportunity to use the toilet tonight."

There was no curtain for the shower stall, so turned on the waterI peed, and then showed under his watchful eye, carefully scrubbing myself clean for fear that he might not think I was clean enough and decide to scrub for himself.  I was all lathered up when he announced I had thirty seconds left, so I quickly rinsed and turned the water off, standing in the stall dripping.

"Dry off," he commanded, tossing me a threadbare, faded towel.  There were two nice, plush bath towels on the towel bar, but I supposed they were reserved for someone of higher status than a servant, or slave, whatever I was.  I dried off as quickly as I could.  At least I'd stopped shivering, thanks in large part to the hot shower.

When I was finished, he led me back upstairs to the jail cell, as I'd begun to think of it.  The bag he'd brought earlier contained my attire for the evening: a black bow tie and a set of white, French cuffs complete with cuff links...but no shirt. 

"Now before we go any further, I need to ask you some questions, and I expect truthful answers, okay?"

"Yes, Sir," I responded almost automatically.  I had no right to be anything but absolutely honest with this man.

"First, are you a virgin?  Have you ever had sex?"

"Yes, Sir...I mean, no, Sir, unless you count masturbation," I said almost automatically. I wasn't sure whether a yes or no answer would be right, felt I had to explain it to him.

"No, beating off doesn't count," he said with a smile.  "So I'm assuming the first question, you meant you'd never had sex with a woman.  What about a man?"

"No, Sir, never."

"Never sucked a cock, even?"

"No, Sir," I replied, blushing now.

"But you'd like to, wouldn't you?  Truthful answer, please."

"Um...I don't know, Sir.  Maybe."

"You'd do it if I told you to, though, right?"

"Um...I think so.  Maybe once, just to see what it's like."

"What about being ass fucked?  Does the thought of that happening excite you?"

"I don't know, Sir.  I'm afraid something like that might hurt, and I'm not sure I'd like it, Sir."  I was scared again, afraid that something like this might happen.  "Sir, am I going to...you know...is someone going to do that to me?"

"No.  Not tonight, anyway.  Maybe never."  I'm sure he could see the visible signs of my relief.

"What about sucking cock, Sir?  Will I have to do that?"

"Probably," he answered.  "Almost assuredly, as a matter of fact.  Does that scare you?"

"Maybe a little, Sir," I answered as truthfully as I could.  "I've practiced on things like hot dogs and bananas, Sir, but my gag reflex..."

"Oh, don't worry about that.  You're still a beginner, and nobody expects you to be able to deep throat just yet.  You will be expected to swallow, though."

"I understand, Sir. Thank you, Sir," I said with less relief in my voice than there was in my heart. 

"One more thing for you to wear," he said, reaching into the bag once more.  He pulled out a white leather thong.  "Nobody will expect your ass to be available while you have this on.  White means you're still a virgin.  Unless you want to be ass-fucked, though, I suggest you don't take it off.  With it on, you're anal virginity is secure.  Without it, your body is fair game."

"Yes, Sir," I replied, slipping the skimpy garment on.  The back was nothing more than a string that fit deeply inside my ass crack, the front a sort of sack to hold my cock and balls.

"Okay, a few ground rules before we go downstairs.  As I'm sure you figured out by now, this is a gay party.  There will be six of us, though two are bisexual, not strictly gay.  Your job is to serve drinks and hors d'oveurs, fetch towels when we need them, and generally be at our beck and call.  You'll call us ‘Sir,' and you'll be referred to as ‘boy,' unless, that is, you prefer ‘Pansy?'"

"No, Sir, ‘boy' is fine, Sir."

"Good.  Now, one last thing.  You'll do what you're told, when you're told, no matter how humiliating or distasteful it might seem.  The only thing that's off limits is your ass, unless you beg for it.  If someone wants you to hold their dick while they pee, you'll do it.  If someone wants you to wipe their ass after they shit, same thing.  Whenever you're not busy fetching or serving one of us, you'll be tidying up.  I don't ever want to see anyone with an empty drink glass.  If you're disobedient, hesitant or in any way unacceptable, I'll report your behavior to Dominique.  I've been told she'll take it out on your ass, correct?"

"Yes, Sir.  She told me she'd make sure I couldn't sit for a week if she got a bad report from you, Sir."

"And you don't want that, do you, boy?"

"No, Sir."

"Good, then we understand each other.  So, let's go downstairs before the party starts without us!"

Awaiting us in the immense living room were five men, all about the same age as Sir, all dressed in short silk robes, and all sitting with a drink in one hand, chatting quietly.  All eyes turned towards me as we entered; I felt like a piece of meat being appraised.

"Go get the snack tray out of the kitchen, boy," Sir told me, "Then bring it back and offer our guests some refreshments."

"Yes, Sir," I responded automatically, padding off barefoot through the swinging doors.  I could hear mumbling as I set to my task, assuming correctly that they were talking about me.  I found a tray of hors d'oveurs in the refrigerator, and draping a clean white linen towel over my arm - as I'd seen waiters in the movies do - I carried the snack tray out, stopping before each guest and allowing him to take what he desired.  A stack of small plates in the center of the tray were there for this purpose.

"Steven says you're a total virgin," one of the guests commented.  He looked to be the youngest of the group, certainly the shortest at about 5'4" tall. 

"Yes, Sir," I answered promptly, blushing that my lack of experience was now common knowledge among these men..

"Good.  It's been a long time since we've had one serve us.  You may remove my robe and hang it in the closet," he said, standing up.  "When you've finished that, come back here."

"Yes, Sir," I replied, setting the tray down and helping him off with his robe.  I couldn't help staring at his body.  He was sculpted like a marble God, with bulging muscles and rippling abs.  As physically powerful a man as I'd ever seen. I also couldn't help looking down at his cock, something that I immediately envied.  My own was barely six inches long when erect; even flaccid his was at least that, and considerably thicker.  Even his balls looked bigger, I thought.  Catching myself, I quickly averted my eyes and scrambled over to the coat closet, carefully hanging the robe on a coat hanger.  I then returned to him, feeling the eyes of the other five watching me.  I stood in front of him, then knelt down submissively..

"What do you think of it?" he asked.  I looked up and saw he was serious.

"Um...it's very nice, Sir," I answered, not sure what else I should say, hoping my response pleased him.

"Describe it to me," he ordered.  I stared at the object hanging softly just inches from my face, studying it, inhaling its scent.

"Sir, it's the most beautiful cock I've ever seen.  I wish I had one like it, Sir.  It seems so utterly masculine, soft yet masterful, perfectly formed.  It even smells wonderful, Sir," I said.  "Sir, I'm not sure what else to say."

"Nuzzle it with your face, boy," he ordered.  I obeyed, gently rubbing my cheeks against his soft, slowly hardening member.  It felt right to be here at this man's feet, with his manhood sliding against my face.

"Steven says you've never sucked a cock before."

"No, Sir, I haven't," I answered.  "Will yours be my first, Sir?"

"Only if you want it to be, little boy.  Do you?"

"Um...if it is your wish, Sir," I answered submissively.  I knew it was, as it was mine, but I couldn't bring myself to admit it out loud.

"I think you should beg for it, then," he replied, an almost sadistic tone in his voice.

"Please, Sir, may I suck your beautiful cock, Sir?  I know I won't be very good at it, but I promise to do my best!"  Strangely, I really did want it in my mouth, though I'd never really had any homosexual thoughts at all before.

"What do you think, guys?" he asked his friends.  "Do you think our little slut wants it bad enough, or should we make him beg some more?"  I almost came in my leather panties when he called me a slut.

"I think we ought to have him tell us all the nasty things he'll do in order to suck your cock, John," the oldest of the group said.  My own dick, already hard, started seeping pre-cum again.

"Sir, if you allow me to suck your cock, I'll do anything you ask," I begged.  "I'll swallow your cum, I'll lick your asshole, I'll let you do anything you want to me.  I'll drink your piss, let you fuck my ass, anything!  Please, Sir!"  These were my some of my most humiliating fantasies, and as difficult as it was to admit it to myself, I honestly wanted them to happen...and more.  I wanted them to make me suck their cocks and lick their balls, and have them spit on me and piss in my mouth, to make me jerk off and lick my own cum from the floor.  All these things I wanted so badly.

Their only response, though, was to start laughing.  All of them.  At me, kneeling before this naked man, ready to be his personal whore.  Ready to give him my virgin asshole for the privilege of sucking him off.

"I think not," he said.  "Go retrieve my robe."

Chagrined, I rose and walked to the closet, bringing the silk robe back to him, helping him on with it.

"Gentlemen, shall we go get dressed now that the entertainment is over?"  As a group, they laughed again, then all went upstairs to various rooms, returning soon fully dressed.  I just stood there, unsure what was going on.

"Boy, didn't I tell you your job was to keep our glasses full?" Sir asked, rattling the ice in his otherwise empty glass.

"Sorry, Sir," I replied.  "I'm not sure what you're drinking, though, and I don't know how to mix drinks anyway, Sir."

"There's a pitcher in the refrigerator.  Just bring it out, please."

"Yes, Sir," I responded, speeding of at a near trot to complete his bidding.

I spent the rest of the evening just standing around, refilling glasses, offering snacks and fetching whatever anyone wanted, while they sat around and chatted.  Sports, business, you name it...everything except sex.  I'd fully expected to be covered - and filled - with semen by now, but that didn't seem to be the point of this party.  It was more like, well, friends getting together to socialize.  And that's exactly what it was, I finally realized.

It was shortly after midnight when the party broke up.  They'd stopped drinking alcohol several hours earlier, and the only beverage they'd had since draining that one pitcher was coffee.  Well, tea, in one case.

"Okay, off to bed with you," Sir said, swatting me playfully on the butt as I started up the stairs.  "Go up to your room and think about what you've learned this evening."

"Yes, Sir," I said, entering the tiny living quarters, closing the door behind me, waiting to hear the lock being turned.  It was, and I was alone, in the dark, only the cloud-shrouded moon providing any illumination.  I carefully removed the collar and cuffs, setting them on the shelf. I took the panties off, too, but instead of the shelf, pulled them over my head, the crotch at my face, inhaling the scent of wet leather and my own need.  After a few minutes, I finally wrapped myself in the scratchy wool blanket and went to sleep.  My dreams were curiously calm and normal, nothing of bondage, abuse or humiliation like I'd been having lately.

I awoke hours later, the sun shining brightly through the filthy window, to find my clothes - those I'd worn to school the previous day - neatly folded on the floor just inside the door.  I got up and checked the door, and finding it unlocked, dressed and padded downstairs.  Sir was sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper.

"Sleep well?"

"Fairly well, Sir."

"Any questions about last night?"

"Only one, Sir.  Why?"

"Why?  Why do you think?"

I had to ponder that one for a moment.

"Probably a lot of reasons, Sir, but two main ones, I guess.  First, I needed to admit to myself that I am submissive by nature.  I really did want to suck that man's cock, not because I wanted to, but because I thought that was what he wanted.  I would have done all those other things, too, and anything else demanded of me."

"Good.  You're beginning to understand yourself.  But what else did you learn?"

"Sir...um...I guess I owe you and your friends an apology.  I always thought gay people...or whatever you prefer to be called...were only interested in sex with each other.  But other than the first few minutes, when I thought I was going to suck his cock,  and when you made me expose myself to you in the car, there was nothing sexual involved.  It was like you were all simply friends, getting together for dinner or something."

"So what you're saying is we were acting just like..."

"Normal people, Sir."  I just blurted it out, realizing afterwards how insulting that could be.  "I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't mean to say that."

"No, that's okay.  But let me ask you something.  Do you think you're normal?"

Again, I had to think it over.

"I'm not sure, Sir.  I mean, other than my sexual and emotional needs, I'm really not all that different from anyone else, I guess, just like you and your friends aren't really different."

"So you've learned something about yourself as well as the gay community. I think you should be proud of that.  Now, how about some breakfast?"

We sat and chatted for another hour over eggs, bacon, toast and coffee.  It seemed so normal.  He asked about school, we talked sports and current events, even politics and religion.  I was surprised to find he was actually a practicing Catholic, knowing how that particular church stood on the issue of homosexuality.  His response was if having a loving relationship was a sin, he was willing to make his argument before God when his time came.  I had to agree with his logic.  Assuming the Holy Bible was really God's word, wasn't it just man's interpretation of that word, and who is to say that interpretation is accurate?

He drove me home after breakfast.  Well, not home, exactly, but close enough.  I walked the last few blocks, thinking about all I'd learned in the past 24 hours.