Walk around the room.

I took a deep breath and **** my legs to move, the heels making me feel even more **** and exposed. Each step was a battle between the fear of falling over and the desire to give the old man the show he wanted. As I walked, my little cock bobbed and swayed with my movements, and I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of pride at how much attention it was getting.

He snapped more pictures, his camera capturing every inch of my barely covered body. "You're going to make so many sissy boys jealous," he said, his voice thick with arousal. "Now, let's see how well you can clean in this one."

With trembling hands, I picked up the feather duster again, my heart racing as I tried to focus on the task at hand. The fabric of the costume was so thin that I could feel every gust of air from the feathers against my sensitive skin, and the way the strings dug into my flesh only served to heighten my arousal. I bent over, giving him a clear view of my ass and cock, and began to dust the floor, my movements slow and deliberate.

The old man watched me intently, his eyes never leaving my body. His hand rested on his crotch, and I could see the outline of his erection pressing against his pants. He was getting off on this just as much as I was, and the power dynamics of the situation had me more turned on than I'd ever been in my life.

I was his sissy slut, dressed up and at his mercy. And as I cleaned his office in nothing but a glorified piece of lingerie, I knew that I'd do whatever it took to earn that green Cammy suit.

As I continued to clean, the old man pulled out a set of metal chains, the cold links glinting in the harsh overhead light. "Now, this is the pièce de résistance," he said, holding them out to me with a twisted smile. "These will really complete your **** girl look."

My heart skipped a beat as he approached, his hand reaching out to fasten the chains around my neck and wrists. The cold metal sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt a sudden rush of submission wash over me. He stepped back and admired his handiwork, snapping a few more pictures as the chains jingled with every movement of my arms.

"Perfect," he murmured. "Now, let's see if you can keep up the good work with these on."

I nodded, trying to ignore the way the chains tugged at my sensitive skin as I bent down to continue dusting. The sound of them clinking together as I moved was strangely arousing, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me with every stroke of the feather duster. The tension in the room was thick with lust and power play, and I found myself craving more of his attention.

"You know," he said, his voice low and seductive, "a good sissy always does as they're told. And if you're a very good boy, I might just have a special treat for you."

My eyes darted to his crotch, and I could see the outline of his cock straining against his pants. The thought of pleasing him, of being the one to bring him to climax, sent a thrill through me. I looked up at him through my lashes, my lips parted slightly in anticipation. "What kind of treat?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

The old man chuckled, his eyes dark with desire. "Well, let's just say it's something you won't find on the store shelves. But if you really want it, you'll have to work for it."

With that, he handed me a small bottle of lube and a gleaming black dildo, its size intimidating even in my aroused state. "If you want my treat. You'll fuck yourself silly with this while I film you slut."

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