There was a strange truth I slowly understood. For a normal girl, a low body count might hold some value in society’s eyes. But for a sissy like me, the more experience I had, the more demand I created. My body count that single year alone was already touching three digits. Most of them came from old contacts who kept returning for more, and many became regular, repeated customers who couldn’t get enough of me. Through Dani, my weekends turned into a non-stop slut marathon. I lived out every filthy fantasy they threw at me. Some days I stayed locked in chastity, other days I was completely free — riding, getting fucked raw, and used in every hole. I wore every costume they wanted: innocent school girl with short skirt and knee-high socks, tight hijab with nothing underneath, seductive secretary, even roleplays where I became their “daughter” or “little sister.” Weekend after weekend I was fucked raw and wild. One-on-one sessions that left me sore for days, threesomes where I was s...
Every story has a beginning. Mine started years ago, when I was fifteen. I remember that day vividly — it was the day after Eid. The house was unusually quiet. Everyone had gone to my uncle’s place for the post-Eid gathering, leaving me behind to prepare for my Maths exam the next day. After forcing myself through a few pages, my eyes wandered. In my little sister’s room, her favourite salwar kameez lay folded on the bed — a soft, glowing pink one, covered in delicate stone work and intricate embroidery. The first time she’d shown it to me, I’d felt something stir inside me, an instant, quiet longing I didn’t understand. With the house empty, the temptation was too strong. I locked the door, undressed quickly, and slipped into it. The fabric felt cool and light against my skin. The dupatta draped over my shoulder like it belonged there. When I stepped in front of the mirror, I froze. I wasn’t looking at a boy wearing a girl’s dress. I was looking at someone beautiful. “I’m… ...
A few days after our first meeting, my phone buzzed with a message from Daddy. Daddy: You were perfect last time, baby girl. But we both know we can make the next one even better. Check your email. I opened it to find an Amazon UK gift card for £30 and a link. The link led to a set of three silicone butt plugs — small, medium, large — sleek black with flared bases and a subtle shimmer. The description called them “beginner-friendly training kit.” His next message came almost immediately: Daddy: Start with the smallest one tonight. Wear it for as long as you can every day. Work your way up. When you can comfortably take the medium for a couple of hours, message me. I want you ready for me next time. Be a good girl and train for Daddy. My stomach flipped — equal parts nerves and excitement. That night I locked my bedroom door, lubed the smallest plug generously, and after a few shaky attempts… it slipped in. It felt strange at first — full, foreign, a quiet constant pressure — but n...
Comments
Post a Comment