Such a sweet thing, to be a sissy slut.
There was something rather relaxing in knowing exactly where you were supposed to be, and what you were meant to be doing. No more prevaricating, no more evasion, no more lying to himself; he would go where he was told and obey. Nothing more or less than simple obedience. His mistress had given him a command and he, well, he would follow through.
She’d told him to prepare himself.
He was to go out during the day, to the salon. They were used to him now, after several months of following the same routine. He’d go in, ask for his favorite lady, and allow her to go to work on him. When he left, he’d be hairless from his collarbones to his toes; sleek and smooth and faintly scented of roses from the lotion she used. His fingernails and toenails would be smoothly shaped and tinted rose-pink. On his big toe would be a cute little flower, done in nail polish. The talented worker would have shaped his eyebrows into pleasant arches and trimmed up all the little wayward bits of hair on his head. No more randomly long nostril hairs, no more hairy ears, and she would have seen to it that his hairline was properly feminine as well.
After his trip to the salon, he would continue his preparations at home.
He would pick out his outfit for the night, unless his mistress had left him specific instructions. Panties and matching bra, corset, garter belt, thigh high stockings. His mistress favored the sort with the seam up the back, so that was the style he habitually purchased. Something sexy to wear over the lingerie; long wig so his hair could swing against his shoulders. He’d put his face together first, so when flakes of shadow or blush, or bits of powder went astray they didn’t ruin his outfit. Face, then hair, then jewelry.
Before he put on his outfit for the night, he had one more detail to see to.
Part of preparing himself for his mistress involved making certain he was clean, inside and out. And from there, ensuring that he’d be properly open and receptive for her. His mistress would want to fuck her sissy slut, and if she didn’t choose to use that part of him tonight, she would at least be pleased that he was ready just in case. So he would choose a plug, lubricate it, and insert it. That pleasant fullness throughout the evening would serve to remind him that he was owned, utterly, inside and out.
Truly, there was a lot he liked about being a slut for his mistress.
But what he lived for, what he rejoiced to see, was the pleasure on her face when she first laid eyes on him. All of his preparations, all the work needed… All of it was worth it for that look on her face. The way her eyes would light from within, the smile that would grace her perfect lips, and the indulgence in her touch when she claimed him.
Mistress, that sounds heavenly! I would also like to wear something pretty to the salon.
I have only gone to the salon once, I was going out dressed on halloween in a delicious gold dress. I had my makeup done at the salon (you can see a picture of that night in my EE profile album)! He took maybe an hour to do my makeup. I loved the meditative aspects of sitting in that chair (in front of a picture window no less) for so long. The only thing better would have been getting my hair done in a fancy updo. Alas, I must wear a wig.
I have yet to to have the pleasure of such an exquisite and generous reward for all that preparation…
Thank you for thinking of me.
My B cup breastforms wore out, and when I replaced them I chose a C cup. I am curious to know your preference in bra cup sizes for your sissy slut?!
Y’know, I tend to like tits that look proportional. Too big, and you’re getting into Barbie unrealistic land, and too small can look odd. I’d have to see them on you to make a call, but, ultimately, it’s all about how YOU feel with your boobs. If they make you happy, and you want to dance and prance and feel like a slutty sexy creature, then I’m all for them. 😉