Custom Sissy Panties

I love day of the week panties, but they're very hard to find, especially in sissy sizes, but I just had to have them for my little sissy daughter, JB. We got some beautiful, custom, locking day of the week panties and they're just precious. Some of them are a little tight, so I suppose she'll just have to lay off the sweets!

 

 

Chaste Widdle Sissy

My favorite little sissy plaything recently started a Tumblr (that is already very full, just like her little fairy balls) that documents her fantasies as well as all the dirty pictures she's been looking at. I know some Mistresses forbid their playthings from viewing adult material--or at least adult material not specifically for the sissy--but it's just too much fun to see what she finds. So many lovely images, so many titillating dreams. Of course she must be securely locked into her chastity device after having an "accident" while viewing such images.

If you share my love for feet, shoes, stockings, pantyhose, sissification, and orgasm control, you should visit ASAP.

Chaste Widdle Sissy

A Bruised Behind

A sweet little sissy took these pictures in her bathroom mirror after a spanking session with yours truly. Don't her panties set off the marks nicely?

A Sweet Sissy

A darling little diaper sissy was sweet enough to indulge me in a few quick snaps with my iPhone. Enjoy!

The Age Play and Diaper Fetish Handbook

Penny Barber has put her years of experience as a diaper fetish model, AB/DL switch, and professional Mommy into The Age Play and Diaper Fetish Handbook: The Ultimate Guide to the World of AB/DL. It is the first complete resource for anyone who wants to know about the world of age players and diaper lovers. Perfect for professional players, the partners of AB/DLs, and AB/DLs themselves, The Handbook is packed with practical tips on everything from choosing the perfect diaper to administering AB/DL punishments to the best regression methods.

For more information, including pictures, an excerpt, the Table of Contents, and downloadable resources, visit AgePlayAndDiaperFetishHandbook.com.

New Dresses at La Maison

Yesterday I was very excited to find that two new sissy dresses have been added to the wardrobe at La Maison. They're both wonderful quality from Hula Kula, a wholesale company that provides merchandise to Birch Place Shop.

The first dress is actually a babydoll nightgown in lavender-gray. It comes with matching tie-side panties and is just precious.

The second, which must be worn with a corset, is a white version of the Sasha Sweet dress. It reminds me of a glitz pageant dress for a little girl and is just so cute! It requires lots of petticoats to lift it high enough to show off a sissy's panties, but the layering is worth it.

New Sissy Make-Up

A certain sissy was sweet enough to buy this kit for public use. It's still virginal, waiting for the first brush stroke. As you can see, it's filled with eye shadows in every shade, concealers, nail polishes, lipsticks, blushes, and more. So many possibilities...

Focus

His arms bound overhead, his legs spread wide with a bar, there is no way he can escape. He can dance back and forth, but with a knife in my hand, does he really want to? His testicles are bound tightly with rubber bands. They seem to throb, ready to burst. Inexplicably, he is erect. Perhaps he is enjoying it while he still can.

I draw the blade across his cheek, gently. He dares not flinch, but a bead of sweat rolls down his nose and his eyes water. I give his boys a gentle squeeze.

"These really are the problem, here. They're what got you into this mess in the first place."

He chances a breath to murmur agreement.

I trace the contours of his body with the blade, enjoying the way it controls his breath, the way it focuses his attention.

"And would you like always to be obedient? To be completely free from your own will? To be ruled by Me rather than by the cycles of biology?"

He murmurs again, but this time I insist on a clear answer. "Yes, Mistress."

"And what if I want a girl slave instead of a man?"

I prick the skin of his testicles and penis with my knife and his eyes water, but he still agrees to follow My whim, for better or worse, in his entirety or in parts.

"Wonderful."

Changes for Susan

Humiliation is an important part of Susan's training. It keeps her docile and sweet, making her a more appealing sissy. I spend a lot of time thinking about how best to humiliate Susan while keeping within the bounds of what is allowed by the Sissification School Board when it occurred to me that for a very long time, Susan had skipped out on something very simple that really is for her own good. It's something that every girl goes through and that a few lucky sissies do, too. Susan was due to get her period.

When Susan came in, I blindfolded her in order to dress her. This was a major deviation from our normal routine, so she knew something was up. Once she was dressed, her hair done and a little bit of simple make-up applied, I told her to go to the restroom and brush her teeth, use the toilet, and just generally make sure she was ready for her day at school. Susan knows better than to argue with me about whether or not she has to go, so she just went into the bathroom like a good girl.

As she brushed her teeth like a good girl, I slipped into my vintage style nurse uniform and cap and laid out a few things I'd prepared earlier. Then from the bathroom came a loud, girlish shriek. Susan had discovered the red stain in her panties!

Instead of finishing her toilet, she came rushing out, her excitement tempered with dread. Her shock at finding she was suddenly a woman was added to by the shock of seeing me in a nurse's uniform, another first for her.

Susan has a bad habit of putting her fingers in her mouth when she's excited, surprised, or afraid and being all three now, her fingers were again in her mouth. A quick order to hold out her hand for five slaps with a wooden paddle on each hand fixed that quickly enough and she was ordered to strip, put on a robe, and climb up onto the antique, green leathered exam table.

Her legs spread and her knees pointing to the sky, I proceeded to give Susan a very thorough exam. Her temperature was taken and she was examined with pen light and speculum. She shivered the whole time and even got a little wet. When you're a chaste little school sissy any attention at all is enough to get you excited!

I also gave Susan the rest of a basic exam, weighing her, listening to her heart, and checking her eyes and ears. In her shock at pulling down her panties, she had forgotten to actually use the restroom, so a urine sample was also taken as she squatted on the toilet, legs apart and I stood by holding the cup as she looked shyly away.

Of course, there was only one conclusion to draw. Susan would need sanitary pads. Of course, like any school nurse worth her salt, I was stocked with a good supply in all different forms. Poor Susan spent the next half hour being fitted for a sanitary pad, having to model them beneath her uniform skirt before I finally prescribed a single, un-gummed, overnight pad in a sanitary belt. And six strokes with the leather strap to the back of the legs was added to her punishment for soiling her panties and not even thinking of washing them out in the sink like a good girl.

From then, we proceeded to Susan's lessons. She had written an essay on an Angela Brazil novel she'd just read. When she received her caning for mistakes she'd made in it, the sanitary pad made a very amusing sound. Being sent home, Susan had to continue to wear her pad and, since I wouldn't be there to help her through the first scary night, I tucked a diaper into her bag as well with strict instructions to wear it to bed.

Here's a fun video that might help other sissies going through a similar change...

A Sore Hand

To accompany a soon-to-be-sore bottom.

Becky's Place

The account of my latest session is in narrative form for entertainment purposes only. All scenes are negotiated in advance and take place between consenting adults.

My sissy niece Rebeca has recently come to stay with me in my home. Sadly, her parents' lives were cut short, but out of this tragedy, I've gained a sweet little sissy daughter and have decided to do my best to raise her as an old fashioned, sweet little girl. Her mother and father were rather lax in her upbringing, allowing her to wear pants and shirts like a boy. They even allowed her to cut her hair short and wear boyish underwear!

Immediately upon her arrival, I presented Rebeca with more appropriate clothes. Her new wardrobe consisted of a beautiful pale pink chiffon dress, a pink satin dress, a few cotton dresses, a pretty satin pinafore, patent leather shoes, and white socks with ruffles. For some reason, Rebeca didn't appreciate these wonderful gifts and, stamping her foot, refused to be a good girl. She felt that the other girls would tease her and that she would never be able to make any friends, to which I responded that she would only be associating with other young ladies who were similarly dressed and properly submissive. Still, Rebeca insisted that she would continue to dress however she wanted, even if she wanted to dress like an unkempt boy.

Of course, I know just how to deal with naughty, willful girls. They all think that their behavior is new to me, but it's the same old story and, more often than not, a bad attitude can be adjusted with a good, sound spanking.

Thus, I took naughty little Rebeca and pulled off her nasty, boyish clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor. There was no need to waste time folding them, as they were to be incinerated. A few firm swats kept her more or less complacent as I dressed her in her new chiffon dress and even a pretty, pigtailed wig, but only when she was appropriately dressed like the adorably little lady that she truly was did I take her over my knee.

Spanking a squirming little girl is so much more fun when she's wearing appropriate clothes. I love to see powerless little legs kick while wearing Mary Jane shoes and see ruffles and lace tossed about with each stroke of my hand. And isn't it nicer of me to pull up a nice pair of silky panties over a freshly spanked bottom than some rough, cottony underclothes?

Once she was appropriately dressed and thoroughly chastised, Rebeca and I discussed how she would be spending her summer. Like so many girls her age, she wanted to earn a little extra pocket money. How fortunate that a friend of mine was looking for a part-time maid! I explained to Rebeca that she would most likely be kept in uniform and that this friend of mine spanked her maids if they deserved it and that Rebeca would get no special treatment just because she was my niece! Upon hearing this, she began to have second thoughts. I may just have to march her up to the door and force her into maid service!

To be continued...

Susan in School

Yesterday I had a great session with Susie, a lovely little sissy who likes to role play as a school girl. I say Sue is a sissy because she is a male who likes to dress, act, and be treated like a female, but our play is much less, shall I say, ruffled, than play with the average sissy. She is a more genuine school girl, rather than an ultra-feminine one. While I usually prefer the super-frilly aesthetics of the sissy school girl, I prefer the institutional discipline administered to the truer-to-form school girl and we get along quite well as pupil and Headmistress.

Sue wears a genuine school uniform, which we purchased from French Toast. I selected it to match the one I actually wore to school, just to make myself laugh and because it actually was a very nice uniform. She is a 32" waist, so she can wear the size 16 quite comfortably. Her uniform consists of a skirt, blouse, cross tie, sweater, knee socks, saddle shoes, and white cotton panties. Usually her hair is in pigtails, but this time she just wore a side bow.

Sue is probably the most disciplined school girl that ever was. Everything is a punishable offense. To begin with, when Susie arrives, I answer the door and show her into the sitting room, where she is left to change. I don't often leave playmates alone to undress, but Sue just feels so unnatural in her male attire, that I really don't like to look at her. Besides, she has other tasks to complete.

Her uniform will be left neatly on the leather couch. She changes into it and leaves her old clothes draped on the valet. She is allowed to touch a lipstick to her lips and fix her hair in the vanity mirror before taking a chair into the Parlor. She is to get everything ready: lay out the implements I will use, arrange the spanking horse, lay out her composition book, and be sitting up straight like a good girl before I come to her. During this time I've been getting myself in order, perhaps getting a glass of water, going over her previous composition once more, or just straightening my stockings.

When I enter the room, Sue is to stand and greet me. Then she presents herself for uniform inspection. Are her socks straight? Are her shoes tied prettily? Is her hair in order? Is her shirt tucked in? Are her panties bunched? Is there any lint on her skirt? She has yet to get it completely right. This is my first opportunity to punish her, usually by caning her calves, as was the case yesterday.

From there I go over the errors of fact, style, grammar, and penmanship in her latest essay. Each time I see her, I issue Sue with a new assignment to be written in one of her two composition books. We trade off so that each of us always has one. She completes her assignment in the book she takes home and I correct the one I keep with a jaunty red pen. Her latest was a fun read, "Feminine Fashions That Have Been Adopted by Men". Evidently cuff-links were originally worn by women!

Still, it fell short of my expectations. What makes this assignment more difficult is that little Susie is not permitted to type her essay out beforehand and may only check her spelling in the dictionary. I also correct her style. Of course she may make notes by hand before beginning to write, but the end result must be handwritten in her composition book, double-spaced, in black ink. I believe she received ten strokes on the hands with the strap.

After she was issued with her next assignment, I took my seat and Sue, seated in front of me, was made to recount everything naughty she had done since we last saw each other. As usual, she had touched herself while looking at my picture and trying on a pair of my stockings. She had also been intoxicated not once but twice and failed to hold the door for an older woman. Usually she has also cussed, but I think her last punishment session with a prolonged genital torment may have cured her--at least temporarily.

The rest of our time together was spent with my cleansing Susan of these misdeeds by any means necessary. She was punished severely, with her uniform slowly coming off. First her skirt was lifted, then removed. Her blouse was undone and taken off. Eventually she was stripped of everything but her cross tie and hair bow! And her bottom and thighs positively glowed.

When I felt she had been thoroughly chastened, I had her lie down on the table and I rubbed something soothing into her welts. Sue always becomes excited when I do this, so it is necessary to milk her to prevent her from disgracing herself.

I assure you I only have her best interests at heart!

The Training of R

I believe I have acquired a lovely new femme slave, R. She arrived at the space with a bottle of white wine, which we sipped while getting to know one another. She's very careful with her speech and looked so charming sitting on the leather couch, reaching for just the right words. Some cross-dressers and transgendered people manage to look the part even when attired as their biological sex. R was one of those, with smooth skin, a mess of dirty blonde curls, and a lavender shirt, open at the neck to show a sexy vee of pristine skin. Unfortunately, she was also wearing men's boxer briefs! It was so against everything else about her that it rather threw me when I first discovered it.

To begin with, I undressed my new little subbie and dressed her in some black lace panties fixed with a spray of rhinestones. The only other adornment she was allowed was a matching set of white leather cuffs and collar, decorated with tiny pink roses.

Just before I placed the collar on her, I explained that I was going to spank her, that it was going to hurt, and that it was going to last for a long time. And it did.

Though R professed to be a slut and a whore, she looked very little girly over my lap. She kept her arms close to her body twitched, and may even have been crying a bit, though I can't be sure. Her clipped, "Yes, Ma'am!" responses added to the effect.

The spanking was slow and deliberate, but not overly sensual. It seemed difficult for her to bear, but she did. Because the build up was so lengthy, there was little to no marking, but I still treated her with a little creamy baby oil after, just to soothe her bright red skin.

But I still wasn't through with her. Still lying on her stomach, I lifted her feet and placed them close together. Though the spanking had been intense, I had not struck her as hard as I was able, and that was what I really wanted to do. (R had professed an interest in serving my wishes rather than her own.) I promised her ten strokes with the cane on the soles of her feet.

We only made it to three.

Gasping and bucking--indeed almost shrieking--three was clearly more than enough. One of the motivations behind caning a female or feminine submissive's feet is to make them walk more delicately. As a little girl I loved the Hans Christian Andersen story "The Little Mermaid" in which it is described how delicately the mermaid walked, as every step felt as though she were treading upon knives. That is exactly the effect I have in mind when I cane a girl's feet; light, quick, and delicate steps that make her aware of her movements.

Most of R's training, at least for now, will center around teaching her how to move like a girl. Once she's accomplished that, she will be permitted to move onto the more intimate areas of slut training. However, I want my stud, whoever the lucky one will be, to feel that he's taking advantage of a well-trained sex object, not indulging the fantasies of a man in panties. R will learn to walk, sit, stand, crawl, and kneel like a high class, desperately horny prostitute.

That isn't to say that there won't be fun along the way. As a grand finale to our time together, I wet R's panties. Yes, you read that correctly. Removing her cuffs and collar, I had R lie upon the floor and play with her perky little nipples, which had already been well-tortured and were very tender, as I drizzled my golden nectar upon her soft, yielding little clitty and all over her black lace panties! Needless to say, she enjoyed it and even moaned like a tramp!

Error Proof

My little sissy daughter Laura sits on the toilet with her eyes shut tight. Her legs are pressed together and her hands are clenched at her sides. As I stand over her unwrapping the pregnancy test, a tear rolls down her cheek.

"Spread your legs."

Sniffling she complies. She's already been well-spanked and may be crying from the stinging in her sissy bottom, but I suspect that it's the humiliation that has driven her to actual tears.

"Pee."

Her little sissy stick, shriveled to the size of a lipstick tube, trembles.

"I'm waiting."

Eventually a thin, almost clear stream of urine sprays over the tip of the pregnancy test. I hold it there for five seconds, as the box directed, and then set it on the sink. I roll up a bit of toilet tissue and tell Laura to wipe herself.

"What a slut you've turned out to be."

She doesn't answer. She just sits on the toilet and sniffles, her skirt hiked up and her knees pressed together again. She would almost look demure, in her ruffled ankle socks and pig tails, except for the thick-heeled, black patent sandals she wears.

"We have ten minutes until that test is done. I'm sure you can think of something more productive to do that sit there with your sex hanging out. That's what got you into this situation in the first place."

"Yes, Mommy." Laura pulls up her white, cotton panties. I know she's only wearing them for show. I've seen the silky thongs in her drawer. Does she think I'm blind?

As she walks past me, I swat her bottom hard. She is surprised by the impact and stumbles forward a bit, her short skirt bobbing up to show her panties again.

I follow her into her room, where she begins folding a basket of laundry--mostly our lingerie.

"Look at me."

She looks up shyly, grasping a pair of my panties.

"I don't want a slut to touch my intimate things."

She puts the panties down quickly and starts to fold something else.

"I wasn't done, Laura. Put that down and come kneel in front of me."

She obeys. She wouldn't dare otherwise. The long, leather strap is still on her bed from the harsh spanking she received earlier.

"No, that's not quite right, is it?" I ask. "Nuns kneel." I bend forward so that my lips are next to her pierced ear before I whisper, "And you're a whore. On your hands and knees with your cunny in the air."

Laura assumes the position without complaint or comment. I'm sure it's one she knows well.

"Lift up your skirt and show me your pussy."

She does.

I meander over to the bed and pick up the strap. I run it over my palm slowly and circle my naughty, slutty, dirty little sissy daughter.

"I'm going to whip the place where all those horny boys fucked you."

She moans and twitches. I've not punished her there before. I can't help but think that perhaps, if I had, she would not have grown into such a wanton little slut.

Without further explanation or chastisement, I bring the whip down hard on her sex. The full force is on her anus, but I also slap her balls on the backstroke. Her whole body spasms and a thin stream of cum drips from her sissy stick.

"Disgusting! Lick that up!"

Crying again, Laura lowers her lips to the carpet and dabs at her own pre-cum.

"Will anything get you off?"

Laura sobs, "I don't know, Mommy."

"Then we'll just have to see, won't we?"

Again I strike her. This time her back arches and she throws her head back.

"Perhaps I'll just flog this little pussy raw then have a whole string of boys fuck you, one after the other. Will that teach you your lesson?"

Another strike with the whip and Laura cries, "Yes, Mommy!"

"So I should arrange that?"

I hit her again. She's getting confused. "No, Mommy!"

"Which is it, you little whore?"

Another blow. "I don't know, Mommy!"

And another. "Do you want the boys to fuck you?"

I'm beating her rhythmically now and harder than I usually would have dared, but the way she's arching her back and moaning through her sobs tells me she can take it.

"Do you want the boys to fuck you, young lady?" I almost scream.

"Yes, Mommy!"

With a final, particularly brutal blow, she collapses on her stomach, her face pressed into the floor. I drop the whip and heave a sigh.

"Let's go check your pregnancy test and then we'll talk."

Ms. Penny Proves It

I'm often contacted by emerging sissies and adult babies who have trouble experiencing the headspace that they would like to. When you're a six foot tall man, it can be difficult to feel like an adorable, submissive little plaything. Helping someone break that barrier and get the fullfillment they've only dreamed of is extremely satisfying.

A came to me not sure of his interests. He only knew that he continually returned to websites featuring stories of feminization and diaper discipline. He'd never actually worn a diaper, but had often played with professional dominants, chasing that feeling of being subversively cajoled into experiencing his secret fantasy.

I answered the door wearing my emerald satin robe, my hair swept up into a casual bun sprouting gentle curls, white enamel earrings adorning my lobes. We sat on the leather couch and talked about his interests for a bit. He was obviously very anxious to experience the helplessness of being my diapered sissy, but worried that I wouldn't understand his need, just like the other women he had played with.

When I felt I had a good idea of what he needed from me, I undressed him, noting that boxer briefs were not appropriate underclothes for him, and took his clothes to the locking closet in the hall and threw them in, dropping the key into my pocket. If he wanted them back, he was going to have to behave himself. I asked him if he promised to do everything I asked of him and he said yes, without hesitating. I couldn't help but laugh. Did he really think it was so easy? Was it really such a good idea to just agree? After all, we had not met before and no matter how he sliced it, he was alone in a room with a strange woman and no clothes. At this point he began to realize what he had gotten himself into.

Stripped and at my mercy (he was a tiny little thing), I led him back to the bedroom and had him lie down on the bed, which was covered with a changing pad. I removed my robe to reveal my favorite green girdledress and flesh-tone stockings. I couldn't get baby powder all over my pretty satin robe, now could I? A didn't know whether he preferred cloth or disposable diapers, so we tried both. First I put him in a disposable with lots of baby powder. It's so much fun to make a grown man smell so sweet and innocent. The smell of baby powder is essential to true regression and sissyhood.

As is a spanking. :) I gave A a nice, submission spanking, turning his cheeks a becoming pink. It was almost as though his bottom were embarrassed by all the attention to the point of blushing!

Diapered, spanked, and perfumed, A was ready to be dressed. I selected a crocheted bunny cap and a pink dress so short as to almost be a shirt, just to show off the diaper and freshly spanked thighs all the more.

The rest of our time together was spent proving to A that he was not really a man, but a sissy who was desperately in need of an attitude adjustment. When he did not speak like a little sissy, a pink pacifier was put into his mouth and he was forbidden to talk any more. When his twirl was unsatisfactory, he was spanked with his own belt, which made him jerk and twist in the most ridiculous manner.  When he was making sissy cream, I pointed out that, should he fail to make creamy, he was impotent and not really a man, whereas if he succeeded (and, boy, did he ever!) he was doing so in a pink dress and diaper. A sissy baby just can't win!

In the end, A had to walk away with the sure knowledge that he was nothing but a sissy baby who desperately needed to be doted upon by his loving Mommy.