What It Really Means to Serve Mommy as her sissy slave

Oh my gosh, girls… I still get butterflies just thinking about it. Every single morning Mommy snaps her fingers and I drop to my knees in front of her, already trembling in the tiny pink satin panties she makes me wear. They’re so delicate, edged with the softest white lace that tickles my smooth little sack and hugs my pathetic micropenis like it’s trying to hide how useless it is. The front is embroidered with tiny sparkling letters that spell “Mommy’s Tiny Toy.” No matter how hard I try, that sad little button barely makes a bump under the silk. Mommy always laughs when she sees it and flicks it with one manicured nail, whispering, “That’s not a cock, princess. That’s just decoration.”

Today she chose my favorite dress, the baby pink chiffon one with the puffy sleeves and layers of ruffled petticoats that swish and swirl around my thighs like a cloud of candy. The bodice is so tight it pushes my padded chest up into these cute little mounds, and the hem barely covers the lacy tops of my stockings. She zipped me up slowly, letting her fingers trail down my spine until I whimpered. Then came the lipstick. Mommy always picks the shiniest, sluttiest red, wet look gloss that makes my lips look permanently pouty and ready to serve. She coats them thick, smacking them together for me while she says, “These lips were made for two things, sissy: kissing Mommy’s heels and begging to please her.”

I’m her sissy slave, pure, obedient, and utterly addicted to the humiliation. She clips a little silver bell to the front of my panties, right above my locked up micropenis, so every step I take makes the sweetest tinkling sound. “That’s how I know my property is moving,” she says with that wicked smile.

This afternoon she had me on all fours polishing her leather boots while she sipped her wine almost watching. My dress rode up, exposing the frilly back of my panties, and she kept tapping my bottom with her riding crop just hard enough to make me squeak. “Faster, slave. That pretty little mouth of yours can do better.” I licked every inch until they gleamed, my glossy red lips leaving faint pink kisses on the shiny black leather. When I was done she pulled me into her lap, stroking my hair and whispering how perfect her sissy girl is.

My micropenis was throbbing uselessly against the satin the whole time, leaking like a desperate little faucet, but Mommy never lets me touch it. “That tiny thing doesn’t get to cum unless Mommy says so,” she reminds me, “and right now it’s only good for making your panties wet and messy.”

I live for these moments. Dressed like the prettiest sissy slave doll, lips painted whore red, panties soaked with my own shame, completely owned by the woman who turned me into her perfect slave. If you’re reading this and your own little clitty is twitching in your panties right now… good. You know exactly how it feels. come call 1-888-430-2010 and tell mommy alllll..about it

Forever Mommy’s glossy lipped, lace pantied sissy slave,

Slave Princess Lacey 💕