Can you believe just how this pathetic this sissy really is?...she got what she wanted and now she gets what she deserves

Day 4

I awoke late this morning as my Master had other things to attend to and made my now daily morning video of myself pissing into a glass. My first piss of the day, and drinking it. I was exceptionally weary this morning as I had not really been able to get much sleep writhing around in piss soaked knickers and stockings. I had bad dreams too...and when I awoke I found my own reality was just as terrifying as my nightmares if not more so. Following his instructions of the previous evening I dressed in small tight and pretty panties...my bung still securely lodged in my sissy ass...black bra to match my panties and black nylon hose. Since I was not going to work today he had ordered I dress in blouse and skirt which naturally I did.

Although I knew he was busy I could not risk a random text message requiring a picture/pictures of myself wear a badge or displaying a sign displaying some kind of message or comment that would be highlighted in the message. There is no way to predict what sort of slogan he might choose. Ultimately if I was unable to send him a pic within a VERY short timeframe (10 mins) he would get VERY angry. I can't risk being flagrantly disobedient and lounging around in pretend male clothes on the off chance he won't text. That would be unthinkable....if, when applying the twisted logic of my situation, not downright dishonest...I can't risk being exposed, which means I can't risk pissing him off in any way at all. This is in part how forced feminisation should work and my Master applies it with ease and invention. If only I had CCTV in my house which he could remotely access...this would make my house into a maximum security sissy prison. Strange how it feels that way now without the cameras....so lost I am under his spell that he seems to have become permanently resident in my own twisted mind.

With my Master busy I set about doing my own chores...house work etc. Dressed to the nines in skirt, blouse, wig and heels I set to a marathon task of dusting and cleaning. The dresser, the book cases, the tables and cupboards all need polishing. The wine glasses, the picture frame and mirrors all needed washing. It's been warm all week, yesterday I silently melted during a meeting...everyone was wearing loose summery clothing and sat tightly clothed so not as to reveal my hose or lingerie....it got very hot in more ways than one. Today I sweated within the tightly restrictive confines of my sissy apparel. The tightness of slave collar...padlocked securely in place....really began chafe and my stiletto heels pinched and sniped at my feet. I allowed myself a couple of coffee breaks and took the time to look at my reflection. I made myself look ‘pretty' and therefore more ridiculous just in case a message should arrive. I have developed an excited sense of loathing at the sound of my text alert alarm. Any message I receive from him...be it by email or text or chat...I always read with dread...cold dread....running through my veins.

Whilst doing some other cleaning in the kitchen I was reminded of a number of items located in my freezer....a pair of used panties (bought from a disreputable woman with disreputable panty selling website) and condom full of my water useless jizz...all zip locked for freshness they had seemed like a good idea at the time but now I wondered if they were actually necessary since my humiliation seemed to need no further development at present. I had told my Master of their existence but now hoped his busy life would have pushed that memory from his mind. I knew there was little chance of such detail ever being forgotten by my Master and tried to push the thought of them out of mind.

I received a text in the afternoon and then an email which outlined clearly my instructions for the evening. Recently I purchased a spanking machine...yes such thing exists and can be yours for less than £100. It's a small device compared to its peers but is still very powerful. I was ordered to set it up and use any implement I liked to tan my behind for 10 minutes and the afterwards I was to another 10 minutes with the riding crop on maximum power. I filmed the whole painful and tearful event and then sat on the hard wooden seat and sent it to my Master along with a number of pics illustrating the damage. When I bought the machine I was delighted at the prospect of getting striped in this way and truly believed it to be one of the best purchases a sissy could make...but now having felt the pain of its thrashing capability I am beginning to regret ever thinking about buying it.

Still trembling from the horrendous mechanical beating I had just received my Master messaged me again and ordered that I write out more punishment lines, 50 in total, and have them sent in reasonably quick time. Wearing my dildo gag and dunce cap I sat on a hard wooden chair and wrote out my lines...the occasional tear blotting the pink ink...there I sat in total discomfort. I recorded this pictorially so as to please Master who is having a tough day and night and confined to several very important meetings. I hoped that my dunce, line writing sissy might cheer him up at the end of a very long day....this is how far I have fallen under his spell.

Finally I was able, at about 11.00pm. to drink my nightly glass of piss and reflect on yet another day as sissy slave...the kind I always dreamed about...timid, uncomfortable, nervous and squirming with every second of everyday with perpetual and persistent embarrassment of my forcibly feminised status. Oh the agonies of being trapped, made a captive and cruelly imprisoned with paranoia, mind games and sheer physical humiliation. It's all too easy for me to work my nerves up to a frenzy and then sit there empty headed and entranced by the intensity of this bizarre reality of being owned and controlled by another man.