Make him beg for or sissydom then give him neither.

You know the little worm wriggling on the floor before you doesn't possess an atom of the mercy he's begging you for. You know there are a lot of sissies outside that want to fuck him as hard and humiliating as he did to them, but they have Jaqueline and Joan for that. Besides, you want Joe to keep every last scar you leave him, not be cured and offered the purest pleasures of sweet sissy flesh. The studs he stiffed are bellowing for his balls, his head, and his heart, but not necessarily in that order. You want to kill him so bad your dick's hard, but he doesn't deserve to get off that easy. No, you want him to live a rich, wretched life of sorrow and suffering, and you want him to die cursing your name, long after you've forgotten him completely.

"So here are your options, I beat you broken and bloody and so ugly not even your mother could love you, which she probably already doesn't...or I could kill you quick and painless. What do you say?" You watch as Joe's face contorts with torment and terror. You smile sweetly, like butter wouldn't melt in your mouth as he weighs his options. You know his answer before he does. He is terrified of ****, all comfortable cowards are, but he is more horrified of what life will bring. It's being ugly that scares him the most. Prison will be Hell, he knows, and being poor will be worse, but being ugly is something he can't imagine the weight of.

"Pleash SOB kuh WHIMPER killsh muh!" You give him a look of motherly affection, probably the first he's ever seen. Then you break the bridge of his nose with your steel toed boot and send his blood spraying all over his overpriced suit. He gasps and gulps, **** on bile and blood as the weight begins pressing down on him. You add another pound or two as you shoot your foot into his eye socket, shattering it and giving him a permanent wink the studs in prison will be sure to love. Then you stomp on his face until it almost matches the ugliness of his soul.

"Sorry, Joey. I shouldn't have lied like that. I would never kill you. You are too much fun to CRACK play SMACK with!" Two more kicks smash his right kneecap and femur, gifting him with a life long limp and an awful ache everytime it rains. "But I tell you what, since you were so kind as to offer me a second chance as an ASSistant sissy ****, I'll do the same for you. You just have to suck my cock. Should feel real nice what with your front teeth busted out."

He looks up at you, pathetically but not pitifully. He crawls on broken bones to unbutton your daisy dukes with feeble fingers and frees your giant gurl girth. He winces as he sticks his tongue past bloody stumps where teeth once were and licks your swollen sissy shaft. It takes every ounce of willpower you have not to flood his throat with your sissy seed. Instead you push him away with your heel and hiss, "I didn't hear you say 'please.' Now I want to hear you beg to become my sissy ****!"

You watch as the last of his pride runs down his leg and forms a putrid puddle on the floor. You listen as his hateful rasps turn to soft sobs and plaintive whimpers. Finally, he manages to moan, "Pleash leh muh shuck id." You know it's cruel, but you can't resist letting him wrap his shredded lips around your spongy sissy clithead and feeling him suck you softly through his tears. As enjoyable as it is, you don't want to risk actually flooding his throat with your femmy fluid. You yank him off your shaft and spit in his mangled meatpile of a face and let him whimper on the floor next to his bimboi business partner.

You ignore him. You're done with him now. You walk past him without looking back and kick open the door to the trailer. Your sissy sausage still hangs free, shining with Joe's blood and spit. You stare out at sissy and stud alike, and not a soul dares to speak. Not until Samantha bobs up past the crowd like a little bunny and shouts out proudly, "That's my motherfucking mommy up there!" The crowds erupts in riotous, righteous applause. You watch as they all look to you...not with disgust, not in lust (well a little in lust, but less than usual), but in pride...in awe.

You hold a fist up in the air and they grow silent. You let them wait a stifling second, knowing how hard it is for slutty sissy and savage stud alike to hold back their urge to shout and suck and fight and fuck. Feeling the power wash over you, and you calm and content and caring in the center, you exhale, "Children, because that is what you are, one and all children. Studs...sissies, both are sides of the same counterfeit coin. There is no strength in cruelty. You see how this monster inside is the weakest of us all. There is no shame in submission. We all can share in pleasure and power and become a ying and yang of bottom and top, with both sharing one of the other, and sex and gender and everything else that makes us spurt falling on a continuum with no right or wrong as long as it is expressed with love. But you have to ask yourselves if you are strong enough to love? Are you humble enough to call yourself a stud? Are you brave enough to call yourself a sissy?"

There is a deafening silence. Then as if crashing the invisible barrier between you, Samantha cries out, "I'm a motherfucking sissy stud! Who is with me?" Every hand gathered is raised into the air as they bellow beautifully and sing soaringly in support...

"YEEEEEEEESSSSSS!"

You look over your army and weigh what you have won today. Your fortune restored and then some, all paid for by your most hated enemy. Your company is back in your hands with a crew that you can build something lasting with...a legacy. You look out over your army and say...