Sissies love getting pegged

There's a reason pegging is the moment most sissies stop pretending: because nothing in the whole lifestyle flips the switch faster than being bent over, spread, and filled by a woman wearing a strap-on like she invented it. It's the purest physical version of the deal — her hips driving, your face in the pillow, that first cold slick of lube and then the blunt, insistent stretch of the dildo pushing past the ring of muscle while you gasp and arch like a bitch in heat. She finds the angle, and every thrust drags across the prostate in a hot, electric slide that makes your cock bob useless and leak all over the sheets, your moans coming out high and undignified and completely beyond your control. There's nothing to do but take it — knees wide, ass up, fingers twisted in the duvet, tits or cage or both swinging with every smack of her hips against you — and it's the surrender that does it as much as the friction, the gorgeous humiliation of being the one who gets fucked, thoroughly and rhythmically and without mercy, until you're a sweating, babbling mess begging her not to stop. She'll reach around and pump you in time with her thrusts, or she won't, and either way the orgasm rips out of you different — deeper, messier, wrung from somewhere behind your balls instead of the tip — and when she finally pulls out slow and lets you feel the empty ache, you understand exactly why sissies love it: because nothing else makes you feel this owned, this used, and this much like a very good girl.

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