Sissy stood in front of me looking utterly ridiculous. That's what being dressed like a baby -- a sissybaby -- can do to a man. Not that he was ever much of one. A man, I mean.
I stepped in and adjusted his floppy big pink satin bonnet slightly and did the same with his dummy. I adjusted the length of the pink and white satin top he wore then checked the reins and tightened them another notch or two all around. I slipped his be-mitted hands onto the base of the reins, securing them with the small d-lock at the base of each pink mitt.
'Awww, who's a big widdle girly-girl then, hmmm?'
His sissyclit was free from its small pink plastic cage for the first time in a month. It stirred and became semi-erect. If two inches can be considered 'semi-erect.'
He blushed, something I adore. Is there a fetish for blush-lovers? If so, I think I must be the Queen of the Blush-Lovers Club -- believe me, I can get wet sometimes if enough rosy blushes happen.
'I have a present for you, my widdle princess, one I'm sure you're going to love.'
I picked up the wrapped parcel from the table to his left and held it out to him.
With his hands locked to the reins he clearly had no idea what to do. A few seconds later he looked forlornly at me and shrugged his shoulders. His little clitty lost any firmness it might have had.
'Well, don't you want your present, widdle sissy?'
He made a little squeak, muffling something.
I tapped my foot. 'I'm not going to wait forever. I don't like ingratitude, you know that.'
Again a muffle and a pleading look.
