In the pervious movie Giselle was a man, but his wife needed a man for better sex so she turned her husband into a sissy slave with hormone treatment, breast implants and heavy bondage. He has now turned poor Giselle over to Mistress Foxy to be thoroughly trained as a sissy slave taught how to satisfy both men and women with her tongue, lips and mouth. Poor Giselle is put through an ordeal of various sissy outfits until she is submissive and sweet enough to satisfy both men and women and become a complete house maid to do what ever is demanded of her. Этот фильм о порабощенной неженке Жизель. В предыдущих фильмах Жизель был мужчиной, но его жене нужен был мужчина для лучшего секса и поэтому она, с помощью гормонов, грудных имплантантов и крепкого бондажа, сделала из него свою служанку.

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Burly, athletic, bulging muscles and best of all a truly huge cock that was like a piece of iron. He projected a no bullshit, do-as-I-say attitude in our relationship. Which, in a way, was a relief from my last boyfriend. A real milktoast, treated me like a Queen, always showering me with flowers and gifts. But, after a while, it really got old. What I decided was I wanted a real man, and I thought Mark was it.

That is until one day I surprised him at his apartment. Walking in to see him traipsing around in lingerie, stockings and heels. Worst of all, it was mine. He tried to convince me it was just a harmless past time. A normal fetish that he declared a lot of men had. Thoroughly crushed I told him that if he wanted to dress up he was going to learn to do it right.

Once in the apartment he was no longer Mark, he was Muffy. I instituted lengthy, nightie instruction on how to sit, walk, stand and speak. As muffy she no longer initiated sex. I was in charge and on top. I half expected the old Mark to show up, hoping that he would, but he was lost in his fantasy world. Well, so be it, I thought. When I spanked her for the first time all Muffy did was cry.

A result of the quite severe hairbrushing I gave her, but I was sure that the hormones I was secretly feeding her had something to with it as well. I finally got her in skirts full time when her pants split for the second time at the construction site revealing the red lace panties.

I now demanded she wear at all times. Naturally she was laughed off the site and could, obviously , never go back or get another job anywhere in the city. So, I gave her the only job, with her boobs, that suited her - keeping house.

Which she did an excellent job of, or she got her ass spanked. Still there was one recurring problem. In one area Muffy was still all man and still wanting me to fuck her, even if it was on my terms. Still she begged and begged which I frankly got fed up with.

I told her she really needed to put all those silly thoughts out of her mind. Which, I said, I would help her do. The days when I go out to fuck a real man Muffy stays in her bed, nicely chained up. I believe it is bad policy - and I have a secret, a kinky sex life. My turn-on is to talk a guy into letting me tie him up naked or in my lingerie and stiletto heels, if he agrees to a bed or chair, then do a slow, sexy striptease, fondling myself intimately and rubbing my lush tits and throbbing pussy against his face while he pleads helplessly for sex.

Usually he cums by himself while watching me or licking my cunt; if not I finally finish him off with my hand. Such an evening mostly put an end to future dates, but with Lyle it was a happy beginning so I was glad I broke my rule and went out with him. He also wanted to be gagged. His stiff cock throbbed when I said he would look nice in my lingerie. He agreed, and I tied him the way he liked in my lingerie, and even a wig and make-up.

We sat there and he told how he practiced self-bondage in nylons and panties only, as he did not know his bra, dress, shoe or wig size and was too shy to go to a store for them.

We were so happy to have found each other that I even let him fuck me while he was tied and feminized, and I kept him that way the whole night. We began dating, though no one in the office knew. We sent to Transformation and your other shemale catalogs for French maid and locking sissy maid bondage uniforms of pink and white satin, as well as school girl outfits, sexy rubber latex, leather, velvet, and spandex dresses, etc.

I also got him to use your various feminizing hormone pills and creams. Things went well for a time. I even gave Lyle female lessons and exercises, and made him wear a corset and stiletto heels constantly, to further trim his waist, round his hips and ass more femininely, and tone his legs and raise his arches even higher.

He was pleased with his softer skin, silky blond hair, and growing breasts. Then he found his cock was shrinking, along with his sex drive, and tried to stop his treatments. After a week of such continuous abuse Lyle surrendered to my will.

Not taking a chance on Lyle running away though he had only sissy and erotic clothing I tied and gagged him securely before leaving for work. It interfered with his chores, and I was glad when he could be trusted enough to be locked in a leather collar with its chain connected to the ones on his wrist and ankles cuffs; a rubber or leather penis gag was also added. We enjoyed bondage, although he did more than me. One night as we relaxed from an especially erotic evening I coaxed him into telling his deepest fantasy.

He said he has always fantasized about wearing lingerie. I was disappointed but went along. The next night I dressed him in one of my frilly nighties, panties and bra, nylons and garter belt.

When he asked if he could try on a pair of my shoes I gave him a pair of high heels. I was disgusted by the way he looked. And even more when I saw his raging hard-on in my panties. He was clearly excited. What are you talking about? Your desire to dress up disgusts me. Do you remember those insurance forms you signed a few weeks ago? Well, you signed enrollment papers into Ms. How about all the time.

I truly believe you would be 12 happier as a sissy. Oh look, here comes the van now. I told the two that his new name was Muffy. Muffy has been at the special sissy school for six months.

This is his third attempt to pass the written part of his sissy test. If you fail this time we will have no choice but to convert you into a she-male. Led mincing into the classroom the instructor apologized for chaining him to the chair.

You came so close last time. It was a bitter pill but, as I could leave him penniless, he agreed to work in my financial consulting company.

He got nothing until he completed his employment, and any unsatisfactory work would add to the two years. Foolishly he thought he would be working as a market analyst. You are now the official company sissy. Darla you and the rest of the girls can have Jeri now. Making Darla his boss was, I thought, a stroke of genius. He wanted in her panties in the worst way.

Within the hour, after they bent him over a desk, tied him to it, every woman in the office had beat the living crap out of him, Darla removed her panties and ordered jeri to put them on. Cowardly he did. Then it was on to the beauticians for sissy makeup and girlish hair do.

Especially when he saw himself. The rest of the morning the women spent gleefully outfitting him with what they thought was the perfect wardrobe for an office sissy. What followed were satin, frilly blouses, some sheer ones, pants with zippers in the rear hemmed above the ankles to show off his stockings, Mary Jane shoes, perfect footwear for sissies, with taps on them so everyone could look.

Earrings for his 14 pierced ears, of course. Dangling bracelets and feminine rings to draw attention to his long pink nails.

All in colors appropriate for a sissy, although they favored pink. But day after day he suffered the cruel, snide, belittling remarks of not only women at the office, but clients, and worse of all the laughter and giggles of strangers in public. After just a couple of months of being laughed at and humiliated he broke down and begged me to let him wear skirts.

Thinking that surely it would be the lessor of two evils. I even showed him how to walk. Right hand on hip, left hand fluttering above the waist, legs together, making sure to swish his ass, dainty steps, one foot precisely in front of the other. He spent the whole week practicing and when the day came he confidently said he was ready. Now the girls were so excited they bought you what they thought would be the perfect outfit for the office.

He was wearing a suit, sort of. The jacket was electric blue, the skirt a vibrant green. Gone were the medium heels with baby doll toes. Instead his feet were crammed into five inch high shocking pink pumps with pencil thin heels.


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