The boys had left me kneeling in the piss-filled bath, the pink frilly dress a sodden wreck, its white lace neckline and three pink bows dripping with their acrid filth, the black stockings torn, the pink knee-high boots slick with piss, the crotchless panties exposing my little caged cock, throbbing painfully in its tight pink cage. The gold hoop earrings tugged at my lobes, the silver nipple bars stung with every breath, and the “SISSY” tattoo on my arse burned, each mark a chain of my degradation.
Kev’s voice cut through the stench of piss and fag ash. “Get showered, you pissy sissy!” he shouted, his silver chain glinting, his grey Sergio Tacchini tracksuit swishing. “I’ll be back in an hour. Dress in a black sissy maid outfit with frilly white apron, pink stockings, pink crotchless panties, and pink heels!” The flat fell silent as the door slammed, the boys’ laughter fading with the roar of Kev’s Corsa. I crawled out of the bath, my knees raw, the piss pooling around my feet, the pink dress clinging to my skin. The shower’s cold water stung my tattoo and piercings, washing away the lads’ piss, the girls’ filth, and my own shameful precum, but not the burning shame. I dried off, my little cock still trapped in its pink cage, and dressed as ordered: a black sissy maid outfit, tight and glossy, the skirt barely covering my arse; a frilly white apron tied around my waist, flapping with every move; pink stockings clipped to a garter belt, hugging my legs; pink crotchless panties exposing my caged cock; and pink high heels, wobbling with every step. I caked on fresh makeup—thick foundation, clumpy mascara, garish red lipstick—my gold hoops swinging, my nipple bars gleaming, and waited, trembling, my little caged cock aching.
Just over an hour later, the Corsa’s roar shook the flat, and Kev slung the door open, his white Nike Air Max 97s gleaming, his gold signet ring flashing. “Bend over the sofa, cunt!” he barked, his eyes raking over my humiliating outfit, my caged cock dangling through the crotchless panties. I scrambled to the sofa, my pink heels clicking, the black maid skirt riding up as I bent over, exposing my arse, the “SISSY” tattoo throbbing. Kev lifted my skirt, spat on my hole—his saliva cold and slick—and rammed his thick, veiny cock into me, dry except for his spit, the pain searing through my core. I screamed, the nipple bars jolting, the gold hoops swinging, my little caged cock throbbing uselessly.
“Beg for it, sissy!” he growled, his hands clawing my hips, nails drawing blood. “Beg for my cock, my spunk, beg me to take you, you minging slag!” I obeyed, my voice loud and desperate, echoing in the trashed flat. “Please, Kev, fuck my worthless sissy arse!” I wailed, tears streaming down my makeup-caked face. “Please, sir, pound my filthy hole, fill me with your spunk, take me, I’m your pathetic sissy cunt!” He thrust harder, each pump a brutal hammer, his balls slapping against me, the friction tearing my hole. “Thank you, sir, for your cock!” I sobbed, my caged cock leaking precum onto the sofa. “Thank you for fucking your disgusting sissy, please give me your spunk!” He laughed, a cruel bark, and slammed deeper, my arse clenching around him, the tattoo burning, the pink stockings snagging.
“More, you drooling wanker!” he snarled, yanking my hair, the pain sharp. “Beg like the cum-slurping slag you are!” I screamed, “Please, Kev, destroy my sissy arse, flood me with your spunk, I’m your worthless bitch, please take me!” The memories of the girls’ piss—Chelsea’s vagazzle, Shaz’s 38E tits, Kylie’s pierced cunt—and the lads’ cocks in my mouth flooded back, pushing me deeper into their game. “Thank you, sir, for every pump!” I moaned, my caged cock straining, the nipple bars searing. Kev groaned, his pace erratic, and unloaded deep in my arse, hot, thick spunk flooding my hole, eight heavy spurts leaking out, dripping down my thighs, soaking the pink stockings. “Proper fucked you, you minging sissy,” he sneered, pulling out, his spunk oozing from my raw hole.
He pulled up his trackies, grabbed my arm, and dragged me to the Corsa, my pink heels wobbling, the frilly apron flapping, my caged cock bouncing through the crotchless panties. “Where are we going?” I stammered, my voice shaking. Smack! His hand cracked across my face, the sting burning. “Shut up, you cunt!” he laughed, shoving me into the passenger seat. We sped off, the neon underglow flashing, and each time I asked again, Smack! Smack! he slapped me harder, my cheeks raw, my gold hoops swinging. “You’ll see, you pathetic sissy slag,” he growled, his silver chain glinting.
We screeched into the precinct, the place buzzing with Saturday shoppers, kids, and d*unks. “Get out, sissy,” Kev demanded, pulling up near the sex shop on the corner. “Go pick up my package—under the name Sissy Cunt.” I froze, my heart pounding. “No, Kev, please—” Smack! Smack! Smack! Three slaps silenced me, my face burning, tears smearing my mascara. “Move, you minging wanker!” Reluctantly, I opened the door, the black sissy maid outfit swishing, the white apron flapping, pink stockings snagging, my little caged cock dangling through the pink crotchless panties, the pink heels clicking. The precinct was a blur of stares, my red lipstick glaring, the gold hoops and nipple bars drawing every eye.
The sex shop’s bell jingled as I pushed the door open, the air thick with rubber and lube. A young lady, maybe 20, with a nose ring and pink hair, smirked behind the counter. “May I help?” she asked, her voice dripping with amusement. I swallowed, my face burning. “I’ve come to pick up a package.” “Name?” “Sissy Cunt,” I whispered. “Speak up!” “Sissy Cunt!” I blurted, the shop erupting in sniggers from a couple of customers. “ID?” she demanded. “I don’t have any.” “Show me your tattoo,” she smirked. I hesitated, then bent over, lifting the black maid skirt, pulling down the pink crotchless panties, my caged cock dangling pathetically, the “SISSY” tattoo exposed. The shop roared, a guy whistling, “Nice caged prick, you sissy slag!” She handed me a large, heavy box, and I clutched it, hurrying out, the bell jingling, my heels wobbling, my shame barely hidden.
“Put it in the boot,” Kev said, smirking. I struggled to the car, the box covering my dress, and slammed the boot shut. Before I could turn, Kev sped off, the Corsa’s roar fading, leaving me stranded in the precinct, the black sissy maid outfit glaring, my caged cock throbbing, the white apron flapping, my red lipstick and gold hoops drawing stares. The walk home was a gauntlet of degradation. Lads in hoodies catcalled, “Oi, sissy cunt, shake that tiny caged prick!” their phones flashing as they filmed. A pack of teenage girls giggled, one tossing a half-empty energy drink, the sticky liquid splashing my apron. “Look at this minging sissy slag, what a fucking joke!” they chanted, snapping photos. An old tramp, reeking of piss and cider, grabbed my skirt, his grimy hand grazing my thigh. “Gimme a suck, you prissy bitch!” he slurred, his toothless leer making my stomach churn. I yanked away, my caged cock aching, the nipple bars stinging, the pink stockings tearing.
Builders roared from a scaffold, “Show us that tattoo, you drooling sissy wanker!” A gust lifted my skirt, exposing my caged cock, the crowd howling, “Fucking hell, look at that pathetic caged prick!” Kids pointed, chanting, “Sissy! Sissy!” as their parents sneered. A chav girl spat at me, her gob landing on my cheek, her mates cackling, “Piss off, you cum-slurping sissy!” A man in a van honked, yelling, “Bend over, love, let’s see that sissy arse!” My face burned, the makeup cracking, my little caged cock leaking precum despite the shame, the tattoo throbbing, Kev’s spunk still oozing from my raw hole, soaking the pink panties. A group of d*unk lads threw chips, the greasy scraps sticking to my apron, one shouting, “Sissy maid, clean my cock with that filthy tongue!” The precinct was a blur of jeers, my pink heels wobbling, the frilly apron a mocking banner of my degradation.
I reached my flat, trembling, the black sissy maid outfit stained with drink and spit, the white apron sticky, pink stockings torn, pink crotchless panties exposing my aching caged cock, the pink heels scuffed. I pushed the door open, expecting more taunts, but the mob—Kev, Daz, Liam, Ste, Jay, Mick, Chelsea, Tasha, Mercedes, Kylie, Shaz—sat in silence, sprawled across my trashed furniture, fag butts and cans littering the floor, their eyes locked on me, no laughter, just an eerie quiet. I stood there, my little caged cock throbbing, the gold hoops heavy, the nipple bars stinging, Kev’s spunk dripping down my thighs. |
h bloody hell 
