Red twilight

Jesse woke up from his stupor in a room turned blood red by the setting sun. The tight collar around his neck was singing its buzzing song again, signifying the end of his extended contract with John and Miranda. The naked pair themselves were sprawled over him on either side, dozing gently. A glint of eyes and fingernail idly tracing itself around his nipple told him that at least one was still awake. The prophetic light and heightened senses of reawakening nerves unveiled to him just how many bruise-like hickeys and small indentations of teeth that woman had left all over him. He was an absolute collage of her stamps and brand.

Memories of what had transpired not an hour before came flooding back: The press of John's erection against his own. The feel of it sliding between his thighs, lubricated by Miranda's tongue. The experience of her leaning in to suckle on each of them as their climaxes came closer and closer. His second orgasm of the evening, set off by the very fact that the man who had purchased him was gaining such measurable pleasure from his own unworthy form. The smell on Miranda’s breath as she greedily collected those two streams of ejaculate which burst forth one after another, and then the taste of that salty combination as she drooled the mixture into his own gasping mouth.

Jesse had tangled tongues with his glorying mistress for what seemed like an eternity, awash with a slimy, shared mouthful which was half his own. She had been playing with herself the entire time and finally seemed to reach her own climax in watching her submissive pet gulp down that sordid, slimy mess. It came to light in the sissy’s mind that he had struggled to bring the woman to such on his own because her gratification came not simply from her own physicality, but from the overflowing emotional state of those around. The unkempt desires she drew from her own cousin upon their human toys and the embarrassed corruption of those young things themselves. Somehow Jesse could see the parallels with how he himself seemed to find more dark excitement in others gaining pleasure at his expense, than from any direct arousal upon his being. The throb of John’s cock between his soft thighs, as he felt the larger man peaking his ascension… still stuck in the very depths of the femboy’s soul. Already feeling more like some treasured memory than any small moments of joy in his previous life. It scared him as much as it already made his heart beat at the thought it might happen again. Just who was he becoming, as he already slipped in and out of thinking of himself as one gender or another? Had that wine-guzzling girl with ‘slut’ scrawled across her forehead, who had almost begged to be taken up to this cramped, little hotel room… really been him?

“I-I need to go home…” Jesse mumbled, scrambling himself out from between the two naked bodies and looking around desperately for his clothes.

“Oh… no, honey… Just stay here with us tonight…” Came Miranda’s sleepy purr. “We’ll pay for anything extra if they need us too… and treat you to breakfast in the morning!”

The sissy was almost drawn in by those glinting eyes in the twilight… but shook himself loose. No! He needed to get out. He needed to escape that teasingly-innocent little whore who still danced around the edges of who he could be, if they wanted. He needed to be him, in his own bed. With Betsy and the Home and everything solid and concrete and grey.

“My roommate will be worried! I’ve got to go!” He lied, almost certain that Betsy would in fact have tracked exactly where he was, by accessing his collar.

Miranda smiled a feline smile, clearly content to accept excuses… this time. “Well, okay Sweetpea… But we’ll message you again next week. There so many wonderful places we’ve got to show you! You get home safe now, alright?”

Jesse nodded absentmindedly, just about managing to squeeze himself back into those ridiculous shorts. Then he was out of the door and away… Already trying to forget the alluring smell of the woman’s perfume, and the taste of her lover’s semen...