Raw Binding: Sissy’s Descent into Lace and Lust
In the dim glow of his apartment, Liam stared at the phone screen, heart pounding like a trapped animal. Victoria’s text burned there: Prepare yourself properly this time, pet. Taxi to the Velvet Veil Boutique in 20. Rule 9 demands perfection—your waist, your posture, your utter submission. He shivered, fingers trembling as he stripped down, the cool air kissing his smooth-shaven skin. No more half-measures. The raw edge of her control sliced through his doubts.
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Chapter 1: The Taxi Tease 🔥
Arrival and Exposure
The cab ride twisted Liam’s guts into knots. He sat in the back, thighs clenched under his loose jeans, the only barrier between his secret and the oblivious driver. Victoria had been explicit: pink lace thong, no more. It rode up raw against his cheeks, a constant whisper of silk tormenting his hardening length. The city lights blurred past, horns blaring like mocking laughter.
“Hey, buddy, you okay back there?” the cabbie grunted, eyes flicking to the mirror. Liam’s face flushed hot, sweat beading on his upper lip. He could smell his own arousal, musky and faint, mingling with the leather seats’ stale scent.
“Fine,” he mumbled, voice cracking. But inside, turmoil raged. How did I end up here? That fetish expo three months back—Victoria’s piercing gaze across the crowded hall, her voice like velvet chains. One conversation, and I was hooked, trained, broken.
The boutique loomed ahead, neon sign pulsing: Velvet Veil. Discrete, elite, whispered about in dark web forums for “sissy maid training corset fittings.” Liam paid, legs unsteady as he stepped out. The door chimed softly, jasmine incense hitting him like a drug—sweet, heady, promising surrender.
First Glimpse of Sofia
Sofia waited inside, a fiery redhead with curves that strained her black corset top, hips swaying like a predator’s prowl. No scrubs here; she wore thigh-high stockings, garters peeking. “Liam? Victoria’s little project?” Her accent rolled thick, Spanish lilt dripping honeyed menace.
He nodded, throat dry. She circled him, nails grazing his shirt. “Strip to your pretties. Now.” No privacy curtain, just mirrors everywhere, reflecting his humiliation from every angle. Pants pooled at his ankles, thong tenting obscenely. Sofia laughed low, breath hot on his neck. “Raw little slut already. Victoria warned me.”
The word hung, raw like exposed nerves. She gripped his chin, forcing eye contact. Green eyes bored in. “Back room. For your fitting.” Her hand dipped, palming his bulge through silk. He gasped, taste of fear-salt on his tongue.
Chapter 2: Strapped and Exposed 💋
The Binding Frame
The backroom hummed with menace—a polished oak frame dominated, leather cuffs dangling like hungry mouths. Incense thickened the air, masking something sharper, chemical. Sofia shoved him against it, cool wood biting his spine. “Ankles first, puta.”
Cuffs snapped tight, spreading his legs. Chest strap cinched, breath shortening. She yanked a lever; the frame tilted back, horizontal, stars dancing in his vision. More straps—waist ratcheting brutally, hips pinned. Immobile. Raw vulnerability clawed his chest.
Lights flared; a camera whirred on tripod, laptop screen glowing with Victoria’s feed. “Smile for Mistress,” Sofia purred, pinching his nipples through fabric. Pain lanced, sharp and electric. He bit his lip, tasting copper.
“Why… all this?” he whispered.
Sofia’s slap stung his cheek. “Sissies don’t question. They beg.” Her broken Spanglish teased, fingers twisting peaks until they throbbed red. “These? Too flat. Corsets need lift. Bulge. Bounce.” She groped roughly, kneading like dough, watching flesh yield.
Forced Confessions
Liam’s mind reeled—flashback to Victoria’s apartment, dusting in frills, her heel grinding his palm for a spill. Rule 9: perfect silhouette. But this? He shook his head, defiance flickering.
Her thumbs nailed his nipples. Agony arched him. “Want pretty corset?” she demanded.
“Y-yes,” he gasped, hating the tremor.
“Say it full. Enthuse.” Twist. Fire.
“I want to look stunning in my corset! For maid duties, serving Victoria raw and obedient, tits spilling for her guests!” Words tumbled, video capturing every pleading syllable. Shame burned hotter than pain.
“Good girl. Beg for tits.” Squeeze. He did, voice breaking: “Please, make them huge, bouncy, on display—let everyone grope, admire my bimbo maid rack!” Raw degradation coated his tongue, thick as her jasmine scent.
She released, nipples pulsing sore. But relief shattered—she hiked her skirt, straddling his face. Panties damp, musky heat smothering. “Call Victoria.” Phone to ear, thighs clamping. Muffled words: “…extra for enhancements… he begs so pretty…”
Liam drowned in her raw essence—salty-sweet fabric grinding, nose buried deep. Tongue flicked instinctively, lapping wetness seeping through. She rocked, moans vibrating his skull, fingers flicking nipples to spur him. Air starved, lungs burning, he licked harder. Her climax quaked, juices flooding, soaking his face in slick shame.
She rose, skirt falling. “You eat like born whore.” His thong strained, cock leaking, camera witnessing. Raw lust warred with horror.
Chapter 3: The Pumping Ritual
Cream and Inversion
Sofia gloved up, tube gleaming—thick, medicinal reek like menthol fire. Dollops smeared across his chest, hands circling nipples in relentless massage. Cool at first, then burning icy-hot. “Breast prep, sissy. Pumps next.”
“Pumps? Overnight?” Panic spiked.
Gloved yank on nipple—scream. “Victoria pays. You serve tonight. Busy salon. Good practice.” Table whirred, inverting him head-down. Blood rushed, world upside-down, tits swelling pendulous under cream’s tingle.
She vanished behind cabinets—clinks, rummages. Eyelids crusted with her drying nectar, blinking frantic. Arousal throbbed anew, thong soaked, her crotch-shadow looming as she perched on stool.
Vacuum Seal
Clear domes appeared, tubes snaking. Kneading left mound, slick with cream, she sealed it—pump, pump. Suction pulled flesh in, stretching unnatural. Right followed, cups massive, C-cups mocking his frame. Final squeezes equalized, skin bulging against plastic.
“Clitty loves it,” she cooed, eyeing his tent. “Horny for tits. Soon, men cum on them. Tramp.” Table righted; he stared down—grotesque swells, swinging heavy. Arms freed. “Dress. Door open.”
A client passed—middle-aged man, gaping at panty-clad, pumped-up Liam. Raw exposure flushed him crimson. Struggling into pants, cups impeded, tits wobbling. Shirt half-buttoned, cleavage brazen.
New scene: Sofia dragged him to salon floor. “Serve drinks. Practice.” Patrons smirked—women in lace, men leering. He minced, trays trembling, cups shifting painfully, whispers like knives: “Fresh meat.”
Chapter 4: Salon Servitude 🔥
Humiliating Hospitality
Velvet Veil buzzed—Saturday night swarm. Liam balanced champagne flutes, heels Sofia forced on pinching toes. Jasmine cloyed with sweat, perfume, raw sex undertones. Cups tugged with each step, nipples raw-rubbed inside.
A brunette beckoned. “Champagne, maidie?” Her hand “accidentally” brushed his pseudo-cleavage. Gasp escaped. “Cute pumps. Victoria’s work?” He nodded, pouring shaky. Another: burly guy palming ass through pants. “Bend over, show goods.” Sofia watched, nodding approval.
Internal storm: This isn’t me. But the raw thrill… cock dripping, denied. Flashback reordered—first time with Victoria, her strap-on claiming him mid-clean, pain-pleasure fusion.
Private Service
Sofia pulled him to alcove. “Kneel. Guest wants face.” No. But straps’ memory compelled. A domme in leather lowered onto him—skirt up, no panties. Bare pussy ground raw, folds parting on his tongue. “Deeper!” Fingers twisted pumped tits through cups. He lapped, nose in musk, hips bucking under fabric.
Her orgasm gushed, tart flood down throat. Cheers from watchers. Sofia: “Good sissy. More later.” Exhaustion trembled limbs; relationship shift—he craved the debasement now, Victoria’s grip eternal.
Night blurred: three more facesittings, hands groping swells, taunts etching mind. Dawn hinted, body slick with juices, raw scent clinging like second skin.
Chapter 5: The Corset Cinch 💋
Release and Refit
Sofia unpeeled cups at sunrise—flesh sprang back, swollen, tender, marked purple rings. “Look. Tits stay big now. Cream works wonders.” Mirrors showed: real growth? Illusion? Nipples hypersensitive, peaks stiff.
“Corset time.” She laced him—black satin, boning brutal. Inch by inch, waist crushed to 24 inches, breath stolen. Tits lifted, spilling lush over cups. He minced, posture forced ladylike, raw ache thrilling.
Victoria’s video call: “Perfect, pet. Home now. Clean in uniform.” Pride swelled amid shame.
New Conflicts
But twist—Sofia’s whisper: “Come weekly. Pump maintenance. Serve me too.” Addiction bloomed. Taxi home: corset biting, tits bouncing faint, thong ruined. Raw transformation complete?
Added scene: En route, stoplight flash—pedestrians gawking open shirt. Humiliation peaked, cock spurting untouched in panties. Messy aftermath, trembling vulnerability.
Chapter 6: Homecoming Surrender
Victoria’s Inspection
Victoria’s mansion gates creaked open. She lounged in silk robe, eyes devouring. “Turn, maid.” Corset gleamed under lights, tits heaving. She traced laces, nails scraping raw skin. “Sofia’s touch? Delicious.”
He knelt, kissing heels. Sensory overload: her perfume sharp citrus, foot leather taste, skin velvet touch. “Serve,” she commanded. Domestic duties twisted erotic—vacuuming bent over, her crop snapping ass; kitchen polish, fingers invading thong.
Raw Climax and Afterglow
Night deepened. She stripped corset partially, freeing tits. “Show progress.” Mouth latched nipple—suck, bite. Pain-pleasure arched him. “Raw hunger,” she murmured, hand stroking his clitty free. Edge, deny, repeat.
Finally, bent over counter, her strap plunged deep. Thrusts raw, pounding prostate, tits slapping marble. Orgasm ripped—ropes painting floor, hers mocking. Collapse together, aftercare tender: her fingers combing hair, whispers of ownership.
Morning light filtered. Liam dressed frills, corset hugging new form. Conflict lingered—guilt’s whisper drowned in desire’s roar. Raw journey just began, maid eternal.
Yet in quiet, doubt flickered. Escape? Or deeper dive? Victoria’s laugh echoed. Deeper.
