Sissy Stepdad

Sissy Stepdad

Chapter II

As usual, I had to excuse myself from class in order to masturbate in the boy's room after the incident.  I took the opportunity to sniff my thumb, the one part of my body that came closest to that wondrous thing I lusted after so much.  I wasn't sure, but I imagined the sweet scent of her body, or perhaps the perfume she used.  All I know is that I shot my largest wad ever at that moment; it was as though I hadn't cum in a week, though it had only really been a few hours.

Nothing happened that day or the next, so I assumed I was in the clear.  I even resumed intentionally brushing up against girls in the hallway, sliding my palm across a particularly cute ass or leg on occasion.  To my knowledge, none of my victims even noticed they were being violated.  I think I set a record for jacking off that day, at least five times during the school day that I can recall.  I remember that I masturbated, but not to the point of orgasm, after gym - my last class of the day - because I wanted to get home.  I always liked spreading out on my bed, jerking off to porn magazines and watching my cum spurt in the air before landing on my chest and belly.  I knew by teasing myself after gym, my orgasm would be that much more powerful.  I also knew that by hiding in the restroom, everyone else would be gone by the time I got dressed.  Since it was Friday, I'd be taking my gym clothes home, and I could hide my jockey shorts inside the roll.  Walking around without underwear on always made me all that much more hornier.  Today, I decided to do the same with my undershirt and socks.

I'd just walked out of the boy's locker room when it happened.  Both locker rooms were adjacent each other, with L-shaped walls keeping prying eyes from seeing inside when the doors were open.  Of course, this also blocked the view of the outside from anyone exiting either door.  Just as I passed the end of the wall, my shoulders were grabbed from behind, hands clamping my arms to my side.  A bag of some sort was placed over my head, and I was dragged backwards across the front of the building.  Since the two L-shaped walls opened at opposite ends, I could tell when we made an abrupt U-turn that I was being pulled into the girl's locker room.  My jeans were unfastened and pulled down to my ankles, and then I was forced to my knees.  A pair of strong arms pushing down on my shoulders kept me in place as my head was uncovered.

"Hello, faggot.  Remember me?"  I blinked, looking up at the angry face of my Goddess, the girl I'd so brazenly touched a little over 24 hours ago.  As I began to lower my head, a bright flash of light went off.  I turned and saw another girl with a camera, smiling.  I'd just been photographed, kneeling with my pants down, on the floor of the girl's locker, at the feet of the most beautiful girl in the school.  As I thought about the position I was in, my cock began to harden.

"Look at this, girls!  He likes it!  The little faggot likes being on his knees at the feet of his superiors!" she laughed.  "Too bad his little weenie can't compare to my boyfriend's beautiful cock, but I have to admit, it is cute.  Like my little brother's, when he was about three."

I blushed at the verbal abuse, knowing that she was at least partially right.  Kneeling here like this was exciting to me.  The thought of being forced to do their bidding, of being humiliated, was turning me on.  I lowered my head again, and could see that I was now rock hard, a drip of pre-cum forming.

"Stand up, faggot!" she yelled.  The hands were removed from my shoulders, and I quickly jumped to my feet, standing with my head bowed submissively.  "Strip him," she said in a quiet, matter-of-fact tone to her conspirators.  My shirt and shoes were quickly removed, leaving me standing naked in front of them.  My Goddess walked to the far side of the locker room, over to the toilets, and then called for me.

"Get down on your belly, worm, and crawl to my feet!" she commanded.  I felt my balls tighten as though I was about to cum.  I fell to the floor and slithered over to her as quickly as I could, my dick rubbing painfully against the cold concrete floor.  I barely noticed as more photos were taken. 

My Goddess was sitting on the toilet, fully clothed, when I stopped at her feet.  I prayed to myself that the abuse would continue, but hoping at the same time that it would soon end.

"I need a foot massage, faggot.  Take my shoes and socks off...without using your hands."

I hesitated only a moment before reaching carefully forward, taking the lace of her petite sneaker in my mouth and tugging gently on it.  It came untied without effort.  I wasn't sure how to get the shoe off her foot, however.  She solved my dilemma by lifting her foot up slightly so that the back of her ankle was at my face.  Taking the heel in my mouth, I gingerly pulled the back down until it was off, the shoe dangling from her delicate, sock-clad toes.  Her admonishment to not leave teeth marks caused me to cover my teeth with my lips before I carefully took the toe in my mouth, pulling her shoe off the rest of the way.  All the while, flashes and the sounds of the camera shutter were constant reminders that this humiliating act was being recorded for posterity.

After the second shoe came off, I tackled her white, ankle high athletic socks.  This was easier, since all I had to do was grasp the top between my teeth and roll them down.  However, right at the very end, she curled her toes, making it necessary for me to pull them off from the front.  Thankfully, her socks were clean, if damp from perspiration.  I could taste the sweat of her feet; it wasn't all that disgusting, and not nearly as terrible as I'd imagined. 

"You may wash my feet now," she commanded, sliding the whole front of her foot into my mouth as soon as I opened it.  "Work the tongue all over the toes," she directed, "and make sure you get between them as well."

I worked on her oh-so-sexy feet for the next twenty minutes or so, slavering them with my tongue, sucking each tiny, delicate toe into my mouth, until she was satisfied.  When she had enough, she simply used the ball of her foot against my mouth and pushed me backwards, knocking me backwards.

"I'm going to go get ready for my date now," she pronounced.  "I'm so horny that I just might let Jason fuck me tonight.  As for you, worm, I don't want to ever hear that you've touched another girl without her permission again.  And don't think your punishment is over yet, either.  Monday after school, I want you waiting outside the girl's locker room, on your knees, wearing nothing but your gym shorts.  If you're not there...how many pictures do we have?" she asked, looking at her photographer friend.

"Two rolls, so 72.  I'll have them developed tonight, too."

"Make copies so we have enough to post on the bulletin boards, and maybe send to his parents if he decides not to play.  Understand what'll happen if you aren't there, faggot?" she said, turning her attention to me.  I nodded my head.

"I can't hear the rocks rattling inside that empty skull of yours, worm!  Answer me, do you understand?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Yes, Ma'am," she corrected.

"Yes, Ma'am," I recited.

"From now on, anyone on the cheerleading team is ‘Ma'am' to you, got it, worm?  And any other girl is ‘Miss.'"

"Yes, Ma'am, I understand."

"Good then.  See you Monday!"  With a giggle, she turned her heels and marched out, her troupe of followers-on at her heels.

I took a few minutes to get myself together.  My street clothes were gone; the girls must have taken them when they left, I thought.  I looked around for my gym suit, but all I could find was my shorts.  I pulled them on and quickly slipped out the back door, as I heard the janitor coming in the front to clean.  I thought about grabbing my gym shoes out of my locker, but the boys' locker room was already locked.  Nearly naked and barefoot, I virtually ran the entire way home - a mile and a half - and upon arriving, locked myself in my bedroom, dropped the trunks on the floor and began frantically jerking off while visualizing what had happened in the girl's locker room.  As usual, I was laying on my back on my bed, and the cum spurted so high and with so much force that some of it actually landed on my chin and nose.  I wasn't disgusted, though; I reached out with my tongue and tasted my own semen for the first time, licking what dribbled onto my lips, then rubbing the rest all over my face and chest.  My own "punishment," I decided, was to spend the rest of the day covered in my own cum.

As expected, I spent most of the weekend pounding my pud whenever I could.  Since the girls had taken everything but my gym shorts, I had to go down to the department store on Saturday and buy a new gym shirt and jock strap.  To my chagrin, one of the girls who had witnessed my humiliation on Friday worked there on the weekends.

"You sure you need a large?" she giggled, holding up the jock strap.  "I seem to recall you were more like a small, or maybe a medium at most!" 

I can't remember what I stammered in reply, but quickly handed over my money. 

"Thanks for letting me keep the change," she said.  "Maybe I'll buy a nice pair of lacy socks for when you give me a foot bath."

Of course, I had no intention of giving her the change, but what choice did I have?  I just blushed, took my bag, and walked quickly out of the store.  Not surprisingly, I discovered I had a raging erection once I got outside.

The weekend finally ended, and I wasn't sure whether I was dreading Monday or looking forward to it.  In the end, it really didn't matter, though.  I knew - and the girls knew - that I'd do as I was told.

School that day was uneventful, other than having to jack off three or four times, including once just before gym.  It just wouldn't do to show up in the locker room with a hard-on; the guys might think I really was a faggot.

It wasn't unusual for me to be the last out of the locker room.  After I got dressed, I headed to the restroom and waited until everyone else was gone.  I then returned to my locker, stripped down, and donned my gym shorts.  I could already see the outline of my hardening cock through the fabric.  Unwilling to take the chance that the locker room would be locked when the girls were through with me, I tossed my street clothes into a plastic bag I brought along for that purpose.  There were some low juniper bushes outside the back door, and I stuffed the bag behind them.  If worse came to worse, I could always hide behind the shrubs and change back into my clothes.  Finally, I took a deep breath and stepped over to the girls' locker room, kneeling just outside the door, praying silently that nobody would see me there.

I didn't have long to wait.  The door opened just seconds later; someone must have been watching.

"Get your ass in here, worm!" my Goddess commanded.  I wasn't sure whether I should get up or not, so remained on my knees and crawled in behind her.

"Today, your punishment continues," she announced.  "First, though, it's truth or consequences time.  I've passed the word around that there's been a pervert feeling up girls in the hallway, and I wanted to know how many times he's violated someone.  Now, I'm going to ask you a similar question, and if the number is lower than the one I computed, your punishment will be doubled.  So tell me, how many girls have you felt up?"

"Uh...Ma'am...could you please define the term for me?" I asked, my face red.

"Felt up.  Touched without permission.  Lifted the skirt of.  Intentionally mauled by pretending to stumble.  How many girls have you touched without their permission?"

"Um...I'm not sure, Ma'am," I stammered. 

"Okay, did you do it every day?  Once a week?  Can you estimate it?"

"Um...probably a couple of times a week, sometimes every day, Ma'am.  Sometimes more than once a day, Ma'am."  The girls were circled around me, all wearing their cheerleader outfits.

"So give me an estimate, worm!" she demanded.

"Um...maybe a hundred, Ma'am."

"A hundred it is, then.  Face down over the bench, ass in the air, and lose the shorts," she commanded.  I looked up in near-horror as she took my own belt - the one from my pants on Friday - and doubled it over in my hand.  "You will count each one," she told me, "thanking me and telling me you're sorry for your behavior with each stroke.  One stroke for each female you dared touch.  If you lose count, we'll just have to start all over again."

She was serious, I could tell.  Tears started forming in my eyes even before I had my shorts off.

"Quit being a sissy," she complained.  "Take your punishment like a man, if that's what you are!"

The first blow struck, and while I was expecting it to hurt, I wasn't expecting it to be as painful as it was.  I screamed aloud, unable to even remember what I was supposed to say.

"Someone is going to hear," one of the other girls said.

"So gag him, like we discussed," my Goddess answered.  "We saved your underpants just for today," she told me.  "Too bad about the racing stripe you left behind.  Perhaps next time you'll remember to wipe your ass better."

Someone pushed against the angle of my jaw with their thumbs, forcing my mouth open while another shoved my own wadded, filthy shorts into my mouth.  A strip of duct tape was slapped over my face, holding them in place.

"Of course, now you won't be able to thank me or tell me how sorry you are, but I do expect you to keep count with your fingers.  Understood?"  I nodded, crying.  "Now, since you had the opportunity to count that first one, but didn't, it doesn't count.  That means we have to start over."

Whap!  Pain washed over me as I held up one finger.  Whap!  Another lash, right across the same spot.  A second finger up.  Whap!  A third time, this one angled across the other two.  Three fingers.  Four.  Five. Six.  Finally, at twenty, she stopped.

"My arm's getting tired.  I need a rest," she said, "and I think Julie said something about needing her feet washed.  Get the gag out, worm, and go beg Julie to let you lick her feet clean!"

Dropping down off the hard wooden bench and onto my belly on the floor, I slithered like the pathetic worm I was to the toilet where my latest abuser awaited.

"Please, Ma'am, may I have the honor of washing your beautiful feet?"

"I don't think he sounds sincere enough, do you?" she said, to the giggling girls standing around watching.

Thwack!  The belt landed across my ass one more time, causing me to jump.

"Look up at her when you beg, faggot, and this time make her believe you want it!" 

"Ma'am, please...I beg to be permitted to pay homage to your beautiful, lovely feet, Ma'am!" I cried.  "I know my skills are pathetic, but please teach me how to serve your beauty, Ma'am.  My mouth is unworthy of touching your body at all, but please grant me the privilege of kissing your wonderfully pretty feet, to suckle on your petite, beautiful toes, Ma'am!"

"Well, I still don't know, but okay.  You can start by taking my shoes and socks off, but don't you dare touch my feet with that nasty mouth of yours!"

"Yes, Ma'am," I said as I leaned forward to untie her shoes.  Yesterday's technique had worked fairly well, so I didn't have to think about how to accomplish my task today.  The only hard part was making sure I didn't touch her feet.  My mouth did have to brush against her ankle as I grabbed her sweaty white sock, but I managed to pull both completely off without violating her.  Once that job was done, I just lay there on my belly, my face less than an inch away, inhaling the sweet scent of her feet.  I could feel my cock hardening underneath me.

"Roll over, worm!" she commanded, bringing me out of my self-induced reverie.  "Lay on your back, legs apart and slide closer so your feet are against the wall." 

I did as I was told, resulting in my crotch being about a foot from the base of the toilet.  My cock was sticking straight up in the air, the head already covered in pre-cum.  Before I could react, she placed her feet on my groin, the soles together against my erection. 

"I've always wondered if I could bring a guy off with my feet," she commented, softly stroking my shaft.  It only took about two strokes before semen shot in the air, landing on my belly and her feet.  She wiggled her toes, letting the cum drip between her toes, rubbing them across the puddles of ejaculate on my hairless chest.

"Okay, now you may clean my feet," she announced, not-so-gently shoving against my balls with her heel.   I quickly rolled over and began my humiliating task, fully aware that not only photos, but a video as well, were being taken.

As I'd discovered yesterday, the taste of semen was salty-sweet, not at all disgusting as I'd imagined.  It was the humiliation involved that I really craved, though.  Being forced to lick my own cum off a beautiful girl's feet while it was all being filmed?  Oh, God, it was beyond my wildest sexual dreams that this could ever be happening in real life.  I made quick work of my task, taking special care to gently lick between each dainty toe, making sure they were completely clean and dry.

"You're our little boy toy now, our slave.  You know that, don't you?" my Goddess asked when I was finished.

"Yes, Ma'am," I replied.  The camera was focused on my kneeling form, recording for posterity my answer.

"You still have punishment coming.  Eighty, I believe?"

"Yes, Ma'am, eighty," I confirmed, tears once again forming in my eyes.

"We've decided to give you an opportunity to work those last eighty off, worm.  Tomorrow morning, you're to provide me with a list of alternative punishments, things you find as bad as eighty of my best.  If I don't like the list, or if I think the punishments are too lenient, you'll get them plus the eighty.  Understand, worm?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good.  Okay, we're through for the day," she said, once again turning heel and walking out, her troupe following close behind.

I laid on the floor for a few minutes, trying to catch my breath, until I heard the sound of the janitor's cart rolling in the front door.  I scrambled for my shorts, but not finding them, scooted out the back door, naked.  It was still broad daylight, but I was fortunate enough to peek around the privacy wall and discovered nobody in the immediate area.  I sprinted on all fours to where I'd hidden my street clothes, quickly pulled them on, and slowly walked home, my mind going over possible punishments.  I knew whatever I came up with needed to be humiliating and disgusting, if not as painful as 80 lashes with a belt.  My ass still burned from the 20 I'd received earlier, and I knew there would be welts visible tomorrow.