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MY STORY ------------------ Chapter 8 : I don't look like a ..
🕑 Added 2023-05-10 08:57:50 +0000 UTC MY STORY ------------------ Chapter 8 : I don't look like a Joyce My alarm clock went off. It was time to get out of bed and go to work. I could not remember much of yesterday. I got out of bed and opened my underwear drawer and saw panties instead of my boxers. That’s when I remembered. She made me throw away all my male underwear. But I had to go to work now. So I woke her up, and said ''I can't go to work in this!'' pointing to some girly pink panties. She looked at me and said “Joyce, come on. Don't be stupid. Put them on.” ''Joyce?'' I asked. ''Yes, thats your name silly'' she said. Images of yesterday popped up in my mind. I apologized, put my new panties on, and then my work clothes. They actually felt good. At work, I kept checking my pants like every 5 minutes, scared i might accidentally reveal my panties. When I got home from work, Mistress made me remove my work clothes and put on this french maid uniform she ordered online. She laughed and told me how much of a good girl i was. Strange, but every time she said ''good girl'', I feel some sense of pride, it makes me feel very good to hear that... She gave me a list of chores, that I had to do. I decided to protest. There were way too many chores. I was tired from work and i really did not want to do this.I said in a demanding tone ''Look, this has been fun and all, but this has gone far enough. I quit. Give me my keys back, I don't want to be a sissy anymore.'' Her eyes changed. She got very very angry, but said nothing. She turned around and went to the other room and surprisingly, she actually came back out of that room with the keys in her hands. She removed 1 out of 3 keys from the keychain and I knew what she was going to do. She went to the toilet. ''COME HERE AND WATCH THIS, JOYCE.'' She yelled. She dropped the key in the toilet and I could see it sitting there in the water on the bottom of the toilet. She had her hand on the flush handle. I started begging. ''Please no princess, please'' In her other hand, she had her phone. She had a picture of me up, naked, with a chastity belt on and a dildo in my mouth and all she had to do was click on send, and my friends would know my little secret. I dropped to my knees, staring face down into the toilet. There was a minute of silence that felt like forever. Eventually I broke the silence and said ''I'm sorry princess'' As soon as she heard that, She flushed the toilet. ''1 key down, 2 to go.'' She laughed. She pulled me up by my ear and yelled ''NOW DO YOUR CHORES OR THINGS ARE GOING TO GET WAY WORSE BITCH'' So I did everything she asked.Cook her meals, clean up her mess, do the dishes, do the laundry, clean her car, you name it. Every. Single. Day. When she was happy with the work I did, she would reward me by fucking me. The first few weeks, I hated it. The plastic dildo she had attached to her strapon did not feel good. The material was way too hard. It always was painful and very, very humiliating. Especially since she loved recording it so much. But after a while, being in chastity and all, I started to enjoy that she fucked me with a strapon. The hard, cheap plastic dildo still wasn’t the most pleasant. So that became my routine. Every day when I got home, I had to put on my main uniform in the entry hall, do all the chores, then get fucked by my Mistress and watch sissy porn until bed time. Except for the weekends. The weekends were fun too. This is where we spend some time together as a couple. We go to restaurants, (she orders what i eat, most of the time its good but healthy food) or we go see a movie she likes, or we go hang out with her friends... its always fun, but as soon as its monday, workday, its back to our routine of panties, maid uniform, chores, getting fucked, sissy porn and go to sleep.She never calls me by my boys name anymore. I react much faster to ''Joyce'' then to my boys name. I truly believe I am Joyce. I have always been Joyce. A month passed. She caught me staring into the mirror one evening. ''What’s wrong Joyce?'' she asked. ''I don't look like a Joyce'' I said. Princess stood up from the sofa and came to me. She stood behind me and asked: ''Do you want to look like a Joyce?'' I hesitated. I started dreaming, thinking of the many pictures of sissies sucking and worshiping dick, catchy one liners like ''this is your destiny'' and ''become a real sissy slave'' are repeating over and over again inside my head. I answered. ''Yes princess'' ''Then we are going to make that happen.” She gave me a kiss on the cheek. ''Back to work now, Joyce'' ''Yes princess''
