Sissy's New Life

Chapter Seventeen: Public Degradation

The past few weeks had been a living nightmare for Mitch. Each day started with the ritual of being dressed in the most humiliating attire by his mistresses. Today, it was a neon pink mini dress that barely covered his thighs, white fishnet stockings, and locked stilettos that made walking a challenge. His face was painted with garish makeup—thick eyeliner, bright pink lipstick, and exaggerated blush. The padded bra made his chest protrude absurdly, adding to his degrading appearance.

Leaving the house, Mitch felt the familiar sting of humiliation as neighbours pointed and laughed, cars slowed to gawk, and strangers hurled insults. By the time he reached the university, his spirit was nearly crushed.

On campus, whispers and laughter followed him like a shadow. Every look seemed to mock him, every comment was a jab at his dignity.

In the classroom, Mitch tried to focus on the lecture, but the tight dress and high heels made sitting uncomfortable. The makeup on his face felt like a mask of shame, and his classmates' glances only added to his discomfort.

During lunch, Mitch sought refuge in a secluded spot, hoping for a moment of peace. But his respite was short-lived. A group of girls approached, their eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

Mitch's face burned with shame. Before he could react, the girls grabbed him, dragging him to a deserted area behind the building. They were relentless, their laughter ringing in his ears as they bound his wrists and ankles with rope, securing him to a chair.

"Time for some fun," the ringleader announced, pulling out her phone to record.

Mitch's heart pounded as he realised what was happening. They began to taunt and tease him, smearing more makeup on his face and drawing crude, humiliating words like "SLUT" and "WHORE" on his forehead and cheeks. They lifted his dress, exposing his chastity cage and padded bra, and laughed cruelly.

"Look at you, all dolled up and nowhere to go," one of the girls jeered. "Smile for the camera, Sissy."

Tears streamed down Mitch's face. He wanted to fight back, to scream, but the ropes held him fast, and the girls' mocking words cut deep. They touched him inappropriately, pulled at his clothes, and whispered degrading comments.

"You love this, don't you?" one of them hissed. "Being our little plaything?"

Mitch shook his head, sobbing, but his protests were drowned out by their laughter. The camera captured every tear, every sob, every moment of his degradation.

After what felt like an eternity, the girls finally tired of their game. They left him tied to the chair, the phone still recording, and walked away, their laughter echoing in the air.

When they were gone, Mitch hung his head, his body shaking with sobs. He had never felt so helpless, so exposed. The video would undoubtedly spread across the campus, amplifying his humiliation.

Eventually, one of his mistresses, Lauren, found him. She untied him with a mix of pity and amusement. "Looks like you had a rough day, Sissy," she said, helping him to his feet.

Mitch could only nod, too exhausted and broken to respond. As they walked back home, he felt the weight of his humiliation pressing down on him. How much more could he endure?

Back at the house, the other mistresses greeted him with knowing smiles. They had seen the video, of course, and they relished his suffering. They forced him into his cage for the night, locking him in and leaving him to his thoughts.

Curled up in the cold, cramped space, Mitch cried himself to sleep. He knew that his torment was far from over, and as the darkness closed in, he realised that there was no escape from the nightmare his life had become.