Mister Mike - Chapter 19 – Part 2 of 2

The Domination of Mister Mike

By Karen Singer

Chapter 19 – Part 2 of 2

     Thursday morning I again got a call from Joanna.  “Did you have fun last night?” she teased.  “You had two girls spanking you instead of just Ashley.”

      “Fun?  You’ve got to be kidding.  And Amanda hits even harder than Ashley does!  And trust me, even after she put that diaper cream on me last night, I’m hurting even more today than I did yesterday.”

     I’m not sure if I was surprised or not when I heard Joanna laugh.  “Good!” she said with a giggle.  “And Mike, I’m wasn’t at all surprised that you managed to get off on it again.  And the pictures and videos that Ashley sent me last night captured it all perfectly!  Mike, you really are a humiliation junkie.  There’s no doubt about that at all!”  And then once again she laughed. 

     How could I answer?  How could I defend myself against what she had said?  How could I say anything at all to the contrary, after all too many of the things I had already done – and later gotten off on?

      “Mike,” she said, far more seriously.  “When you go home at lunchtime today, make sure you put some pantyhose on and carry your heels in the car with you when you go back to work.  You won’t be going home right away tonight.”

     I know my eyes bulged out of my head at hearing that.  “I won’t?” somehow managed to get past my lips. 

      “No, but I won’t tell you what you’ll be doing until after work.  Once you’re finished for the day, go out to your car and put your heels on before you even start your car.  Then take a picture of them and send it to me.  I’ll call you and tell you what I want you to do.”

     I had absolutely no doubts at all that it would be something really bad.  But then, no matter what, wearing high heels in public – anywhere, and for anything, would be really bad.  But what choice did I have.  I had signed up for just this kind of humiliation. 

     At lunchtime, I made it a point of asking Ashley if she knew what her mother had planned for me for after work, but Ashley had no idea, other than the fact that Joanna wanted me to bring my t-strap heels back to work with me.  That’s all she knew, and the fact that I was going to be late coming home.  Not much help at all.  My worry about what would happen only increased all afternoon.

     The end of the workday came and I seriously debated staying at my desk for another hour, or two, or…maybe the entire night.  But five minutes later, I was out of my office and heading out the door and into the parking lot. 

     The other people I worked with were either getting into their cars or already pulling out of their parking places.  I got into my car and stared at the bag on the passenger seat that held my heels.  I glanced around.  The car right next to me was just then pulling out.  But there was someone just getting into the car on my other side.  I waited.  I saw her start her car, then look over at me, obviously waiting for me to pull out first since I was in my car before she was.  I held my phone up in the air and saw her nod.  A moment later, she backed out.  I looked around again, less cars than before, and none of the remaining ones were really close. 

     As carefully as I could, I opened the bag with my shoes in it and took them out.  Just touching them sent waves of nervousness, fear, and a dread-filled thrill through my body.  Getting them out of the bag and looking at them increased all of those feelings.  I was about to put my high heels on, in the car, while still here at work.  And then I was going to go out in public somewhere – wearing them.  I was scared as heck.  I was seriously thinking about calling Joanna and calling it all off.  But the thrill….  The allure….  The temptation….  There was no way I could stop myself.  As if in a dream, I removed the shoes I had worn all day and I pulled the socks off my feet exposing the pantyhose I was wearing underneath.  Putting those t-strap heels on and buckling them was quite a difficult exercise in the tight confines of my car, but with perseverance and a bit of maneuvering around, I somehow managed it.

     The fear….  The nervousness….  The wrongness….  The danger….

     The allure….   The drug….  The excitement….  The dream…..

     I pulled my cell phone out and aimed it down at my feet and snapped a picture.  A minute later, I had sent it.  I had to wait a few minutes for Joanna to call me – a very anxious few minutes.  But eventually my cell phone rang.  “Hello?”

      “Hi Mike,” Joanna’s amused voice came back.  “Are you enjoying being out in your heels yet?”

      “Fortunately, I’m not out of my car and nobody can see,” I replied rather nervously.

     She laughed.  “Don’t worry.  That’s about to change.”

     Not what I wanted to hear, but it was what I was fully expecting.

      “Now Mike, I’ve noticed that your hair is looking a little shaggy lately.  You need a haircut.”

     I knew that already.  But the implications of what she was saying hit me full throttle.  The panic swelled in my stomach.

      “A haircut?”

      “Yes Mike.  Now is there one of those family haircut places around somewhere where they take care of both men and women?”

      “Yeah…” I replied cautiously.  “I usually use one of them whenever I get my haircut.”

      “Perfect!” she declared.  “Now go and get your haircut like you usually do.  But this time while you’re there, I want pictures of you sitting in the stylist chair, and I want to see your pretty shoes in the picture.”

     I was so panicked suddenly that I couldn’t answer. 

      “Mike?  Did you hear me?”

      “Uh…yeah,” I replied.  “Do I have to do this?”

      “You know better than to ask that!” she replied sternly.  “You’ll be wearing heels in public from now on, everywhere you go, whether I tell you to do something or not.”

     Yeah, she had to remind me about that.

      “But what do I tell them, because I know someone is going to ask about it.”

      “Most likely they will.  I suggest the truth.  Or perhaps…what’s that first line from that little exercise I wrote for you to repeat so often?”

      “I’m a big sissy and I want everyone to know it.”

      “Sounds about perfect to me,” Joanna laughed.  “I suggest you use that.”

     In truth, it didn’t sound like a very good idea to me.

      “Get going Mike,” she ordered.  “I’ll be expecting to see pictures!”

     She hung up, and I stared at my phone, then I stared out my windshield.  What was I going to do?  I knew what I should do – quit!  But the allure…the temptation….  It was like a drug forcing me to do what I knew I absolutely shouldn’t.

     Hating myself, hating my life, despite myself, I started the car and headed to get a haircut.

     Believe it or not, there were a few nice thoughts on my mind when I got there and forced myself to get out of the car.  One was that at least I didn’t have a dumb pacifier stuck in my mouth.  Another was that at least I wasn’t carrying Ashley’s stupid colorful purse.  And that didn’t even count the fact that I wasn’t wearing one of those overly bulky diapers. 

     As I listened to my heels clicking with ever step I took from the car to the row of stores, my thoughts turned to one thing, I would be wearing women’s shoes, most likely heels, every time I went anywhere, to do anything.  Wearing heels like I was just then, out in public, was the new life I had just signed up for…even though I still wasn’t sure how willingly I had signed up for it.  Not that it mattered.  The reality of it was that I would be doing it – from now on.  Which I guess meant that I had to get used to it, somehow. 

     I tried to boldly open that door and walk into the place, although I felt anything but bold.  There were two men and two women sitting in the waiting chairs inside.  Nervously, I took another of the seats.  I saw all of them look at me, the guys looked away, but first one of the women looked down at my shoes, then the other one.  I saw both of them give me curious looks.  I did my best to look away from them.

      “Your name sir?” one of the stylists asked me. 

      “Mike,” I told her, hating that I had just told everyone there my name.  I saw the woman writing my name on the clipboard, then she called one of the men to get his haircut.  I now noticed that both women were staring at me…and my shoes, and so was that other guy.  Embarrassing!  But what could I do about it?  This was my new life.  A life I had somehow signed up for.  I did my best to not look at any of them.  Out of desperation to not look at anyone, I pulled out my cellphone and started playing a game. 

     Every time someone got called to get their haircut, I somehow had to look up.  Each time I noticed them looking at me before they headed to the back.  Every time someone walked in the door, I somehow looked up as well.  The new people didn’t usually notice me, but I saw two that definitely did.  I looked back to my game. 

      “Mike?” the voice finally called.  I put my cellphone away and got up quickly, trying not to look at anyone else sitting out there.  I followed the stylist to one of the chairs and sat down.  Did she notice my shoes?  Whether she did or not, I was about to directly call attention to them.  She draped the cape over me and fastened it around my neck.  While her back was turned, I pulled my cellphone out and got my arms out from under the cape.  I aimed it directly down at my feet.  I could see the bottom of the cape, my legs, and my shoes resting on the chair’s footrest.  I snapped a picture.  A moment later, I took the time to send it to Joanna.

     I was about to put my phone away when the stylist asked, “Do you want me to take a picture for you?”

     My already heightened panic level went way up.  Now what should I do?  I should say no, but instead I held out my phone.  “Would you please?  And I need you to make sure you get the shoes I’m wearing.”

     She laughed a bit.  “No problem.  She turned me around so that my back was to the mirror while she stood back away from me.  She aimed the camera in my phone and took the picture.  Then came back and handed it to me.  I took it and immediately started sending the latest picture to Joanna as well.

      “So what’s up with the high heels?” she asked as she ran a comb through my hair.

     Now what should I say.  “Um…don’t ask,” I told her.”

     Fortunately she laughed.  “Do you want anything…different…done with your hair today?  Curls, or maybe some coloring?  We can do extensions as well.”

      “No thanks,” I replied quickly.  “Just a good trim.”

      “You’re sure?” she giggled.

      “Trust me, I’m sure!”

      “So did you lose a bet or something?”

     I should have said yes, but I don’t seem to be good at doing the things I should do lately.  “No.  I’m wearing these shoes because…well…um…it’s hard to explain.”

     She sprayed my head with water.  “Must be a pretty interesting reason then.”

     In truth, I wasn’t sure how to handle that one.  Yeah, I had no doubt she would find the real reason to be pretty interesting.  But would it get me thrown out of there?  “I’m doing it because someone wanted me to.”  Would she just accept that and leave it alone?  Nope!

      “That’s a pretty strange thing for someone to ask you to do.”

      “Um…yeah.  No doubt.”

      “So how come you’re doing it for them?” she asked as she started attacking my head with scissors and a comb.

      “Um…well…uh…you see…the reason is because…”  Now what was I going to say?  “Um…I’m a big sissy.”  I was shocked at myself!  Had I just said that?  Out loud?  To this stranger?  Here…in a public place?

     She stopped cutting my hair and looked at me in the mirror.  Then went back to cutting again.  “You’re sure you don’t want me to do anything else special with your hair?”

      “No thanks.”  I was so embarrassed!  Why had I said that?  It was…ludicrous.  It was embarrassing as hell.  It was…the absolute truth.  I wanted to crawl into a big hole and cover myself up – forever!

     Trust me, once she finished my hair, I paid and got out of there as fast as my heels would take me, and all the noise those shoes made be damned!

     I got home to a rather excited Ashley showing me the pictures her mother had sent her.  “How did it go?” she asked me once she had shown me both pictures – that I’d rather not have seen.

      “Fine!” I replied still upset with myself.

      “So what happened?”

      “I got my haircut.”

      “Didn’t they say anything?”

     I looked at her.  She wasn’t going to be satisfied unless I gave her an answer.  “She asked why I was wearing them.”

      “And what did you say?”

     I didn’t want to answer.  Not at all!  But Ashley wasn’t going to let it alone.  “I told her…that I’m a sissy.”

     She laughed.  “You did?”

      “Trust me, even I don’t believe I said it.”

      “What did she say?”

      “She asked if I wanted anything special done with my hair.”

      “What did you say?”

      “I told her no.”

     Ashley laughed.  “You should have said yes!”

     Yeah.  She would think that.

     Still laughing Ashley proclaimed, “Since you said that, then I think that after dinner we’ve just got to have you practice your little sissy speech with the curtsey some more.”

     Ugh!  “Your mother wants me to do it again?”

      “She didn’t say anything at all about it,” Ashley told me.  “I want you to do it again.  I think you’re learning something.  Say, did you curtsey when you told her?”

      “I was sitting down!”

      “Too bad, next time maybe you’ll automatically curtsey.  Yeah, we’ve just got to give you more practice tonight!”

--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---

     Super thick diaper, t-strap heels, bra with breast forms, and my same orange top I had worn the night before.  I needed to do some laundry.  I just hadn’t had much time to do any of it lately.  And once again I didn’t have time for it as Ashley made me start practicing, and then once again made all too sure I was doing everything right – especially the curtseys.  Have I ever mentioned how demeaning that little speech was to say?  Not to mention having to curtsey along with it.

      “I’m a big sissy and I want everyone to know it.  I love to do whatever Mistress Ashley and Mistress Joanna tells me to do, no matter what, because I love being a totally humiliated sissy for them.  From now on I’m going to dress like a sissy as much as I can and I want everyone to see me and laugh at me.  I’m so grateful to Mistress Ashley and Mistress Joanna for helping me be the humiliated sissy of my dreams, and I promise to always be the best sissy possible for them.”

     Damn Ashley kept me curtseying and saying that stupid little speech for a full hour – according to her.  By my reckoning it was more like five or six hours.  My legs and knees were killing me by the time we finished – and not just from my heels.  All that dipping down and getting back up was taking its toll.  And my voice was growing completely hoarse.  I wondered if I’d be able to speak at work tomorrow.

     That damn speech was so long and so complicated that it was beginning to haunt me in my sleep!  I can’t tell you how many times I remembered dreaming about it while I slept.  It was really getting under my skin – on too many levels. 

      “That’s it!  Last one!” Ashley called as I started in on the speech one more time.  My foggy tired brain registered it, and I was very thankful that it was finally all over.  I finished and did my last curtsey…and breathed a big sigh of relief.

      “What are you?” Ashley asked all too quickly.

     Her question caught me totally unaware.  “I’m a big sissy and I want everyone to know it,” somehow automatically popped out of my mouth.

     Before I could fully comprehend the horror of what I had just said, Ashley was back at it again.  “Curtsey whenever you say that!  Now what are you?”

     Still mentally off balance, my mind barely working yet, I said it again.  “I’m a big sissy and I want everyone to know it.”  Then to my own horror, I curtseyed. 

      “What are you?” Ashley asked yet again.  Again I said my phrase and curtseyed.  And then Ashley demanded the same question yet again.  Over and over, I don’t know how many times.  I was tired before.  Exhausted!  And now Ashley was playing a new game with me.  One that was easier than the last one, but one that was even more horrible as well.  And she kept me at it for what felt like forever. 

      “Good!” Ashley finally proclaimed.  “See that you remember that and do it just that way whenever anyone asks.”  She laughed.  “And trust me, I’ll make sure people ask you.”

     I had no doubt.  But in truth, I just wanted to collapse somewhere and sleep.

      “Okay Mister Mike,” Ashley said.  “Time for your nightly beating.  And I guess your nightly milking as well.”

     Milking?  But I knew what she meant.  I just felt even less like doing it than usual.  I was that worn out. 

     Ten minutes later, I was standing naked in front of her, playing half-heartedly with myself.  My used diaper was laid out on the bed waiting for me to use it yet again – I guess for several things now. 

     I was standing there stroking myself, barely responding when Ashley suddenly yelled, “What are you?”

     I was completely startled.  “I’m a big sissy and I want everyone to know it.”  Then I curtseyed.  I stared at her, waiting for more.

      “Keep playing with yourself,” she told me.

     I blinked.  She wasn’t going to make me say it again?  I went back to playing with myself, but now my mind was even less on what I was doing and more focused on waiting for her to make me say that damn phrase again.

      “What’s wrong?” she asked.  “You’re not getting hard.”

      “I’m exhausted!” my somewhat hoarse voice replied.  “That, and I’m worried about you making me say that I’m a sissy again.”

     She giggled.  “Sounds like a great idea.  What are you?”

     Once again I said my little phrase and curtseyed.

     Ashley giggled again.  “You’re getting good at that.  Tell you what, you stand there and play with yourself and while you’re doing that, keep repeating the long speech my mother wrote for you to say.  You can stop once you’re completely hard.  Just don’t cum!”

     I stopped playing with myself and just stared at her.  She had to hear how hoarse my voice was getting. 

      “Get to it!” she yelled.

     I was so startled by her yelling that I jumped to it.  “I’m a big sissy….”  On and on.  Playing with myself the entire time.  Curtseying at the end of it each time.  After a few minutes of it, I noticed I was having even more trouble with my voice, and I noticed that Ashley was noticing that as well, and laughing because of it.  The girl was just plain cruel!

     When my voice was starting to be more whisper than anything else, she suddenly said, “Stop!  That’s enough.  Up on the bed.  I need to spank you and then let’s call it a night.”

     I didn’t even care that I was about to get spanked again.  I didn’t care at all.  I was so exhausted from talking and curtseying the same thing over and over again that all I wanted to do was to stop.  Believe it or not, I was actually grateful to lay down on top of that already wet diaper, and my penis nowhere near hard.  I just hoped she didn’t expect me to get off from her hitting me this time, because I already knew it would never happen – no matter what! 

     Her hand came down, and my pain level went up.  “Ah!” I grunted, for once noticing that she was doing this to me without that damn pacifier in my mouth.  Her hand hit me again on the other cheek.  I grunted again.  And I kept grunting as she hit me over and over again. 

     And then she stopped.  “That’s enough,” she told me.  “Get yourself ready for bed.”

     Easiest spanking of the week!  Hooray!  She hobbled her way out of the room and I grabbed that diaper rash cream and spread it liberally on my backside, despite the fact that she hadn’t spanked me that long.  I ignored the baby powder and fastened the diaper around me once again – for the rest of the night.

     Ashley came back with the usual baby bottle of water for me to drink before I even got into bed.  I said nothing at all, not even goodnight when she headed out the door toward her room.  She stopped in the doorway and turned around.  “What are you?” she said quickly. 

     I had done it so much that the automatic response somewhat frightened me.  “I’m a big sissy and I want everyone to know it.”  Then of course I curtseyed.

     She giggled.  “Good night Sissy Mike.”

     Ugh!