Thoughts and fantasies of a submissive

Pink The colour of burgeoning promiscuity. The darker the colour the closer to pure wantonness. Of course it's all just the same continuum so when Miss sees the tell tale flash of pink it's the only invitation needed to grab a handful of sissy butt and squeeze til the popsie swoons. But that's just the start. She leans in close and slips a hand between her slut's legs and  finds her little boy knoblet already hard and dripping in her pink panties. A squeeze of the package and more swooning and moaning. A hand slides to a sissy breast. A squeeze of the handful there - more breathy moaning. Fingers tickle a teat and the dreadful slut near buckles at the knee. There's nothing for it but to take command. The Mistress orders the silly girl to put her hands on her head and lean forward. Time to put some pink in those cheeks.  Slow gentle slaps build slowly as the strumpet is warmed up. The blows stay slow but get heavier. They're curiously loving - interspersed

Bottle green/dark green the colour of service.  The dark green is a livery colour  - a colour of service. These betoken a day of service. In a plain skirt and functional stockings the dark green full knickers show a loyal employee who is busily beavering away at cleaning and tidying and with no thought of herself and her selfish pleasures. She works hard and to a good standard. But the Mistress of the house, my own dear Miss, follows her domestic about the house and intervenes to correct her hard working gurl with generous helpings of encouragement and correction to her dutiful but fat rump. The service green pants wear out in the seat but not from sutting but from the liberality of the spankings, floggings, the tawse and the cane. But Miss is a kind employer. Often she'll bend her gurl over a work surface or cleaned table to goise her liberally. Or back her into a corner and grab a handful of tit, rubbing the teats in the way she knows will make her swoon. Before sending her

The other day when I was helping Miss hang her curtains* I saw a lovely little small table with  a solitary drawer which had some plastic curtain hooks as the sole residents. Miss is organised and these helped finish the job but the little table seemed too fine a piece to hold nothing more than some crummy little plastic curtain hooks.. So I got to thinking... of a better use for that drawer. Of a panty drawer all of my own. A little space to host a little collection of soft lacy undergarments. Full panties with lace and bows,  which are feminine but much more up to the task of holding things in. And compressing them as they should be. And I thought of the hankie code,  never used but what a wonderful idea. The colour of the hankie indicating the preference of the wearer. A communication without words.  Saying all that needs to be said and allowing a swift move to the activity desired. At least I assume so as I was never into gay bdsm (though my colour would have been Teal, in w

So as the bulk of the female population start to prep their bodies for the feast of flesh as the weather turns warmer,  and what a lovely few months that will be, I go the other way for the same reasons. I let my hair grow back to its old length and convert myself back to being a normal hairy bloke. Hairy and normal enough to lead a local sports team without attracting comments in the changing room. A far cry from the hairless,  stocking clad sissy slut of those long happy winter months. This is not without compensations. Which are that my fantasies switch to darker slave fantasies. Me naked with heavy steel shackles and collars. Frightful rubber hoods - dark and occluding. My breath choked by heavy black collars and starved by thin holed hoods and breathing tubes. Or tough rubber suits clinging taut to my skin slick with sweat. Rubber straight jackets initially cool and slippery with talc but eventually clingy with sweat.  Mummifications become welcome opportunities to obliterat