"Come along, Miss Molly. You have a lot to learn if you are to bring proper pleasure to gentlemen, and it takes practice. You need the training of Mistress Irma and myself."
Molly Longridge lowered his chin onto the glossy white of his picture dress-collar and felt inescapably feminine as they click-clacked across the entrance hall.
White satin, edged with a girl's frill, was too much for his effeminate sassiness. His breathing sighed with a childish weakness as the lovely sweetness all around his shoulders made him weaken at the knees, so that he had to squeeze them together to stop himself from dropping into a slump on the parquet flooring. Mistress Chantelle pulled him back to life with a pull of the wrist as she opened the door to Mistress Irma's sitting room. The air caressed their nostrils with Parisian perfume mixed with rustling satin. Molly's legs weakened again as he was led inside.
Ohhhhhhhh, their strength turned totally to water as he saw what Sissy Priscilla was wearing: a pink satin frock with adorable, big white collars that covered his puffed sleeves completely. He fell to his knees, then lower still, so that Mistress Chantelle let go his wrist and left him to slide to the floor in his dress and petticoats. Mistress Irma looked up, holding her sissy by the back of his hair.
"Ah good, bring him over here to join this girlish sissy. The two of them can have their coiffures arranged together." Mistress Chantelle took her place alongside on the settee, so that the two sissies knelt side by side, their faces a picture of sheepish humiliation.
Now that they were resident, Mistress Irma had no need to consult anyone on the way she had her sissies' hair. Both had become blond, and both had sweet girlish hair-dos. Their dresses were plucked out into the sweetest puffs and folds, their collars were arranged to full advantage, each of them measuring a full fifty centimetres across. It was when their collars were being sweetened that the sissies fell to helpless whimpering that showed the success of their conditioning. Mistress Irma swivelled Priscilla to face Molly while his hands were ribboned together behind him. Then she stooped to his knees, and a length of wide rose pink satin wrapped his knees together until she had him bowed prettily in front.
Mistress Chantelle, in the meantime, tied each of Sissy Molly's wrists to his thighs in similar ribbon, with big sissy bows at the outside of each leg. They knelt to face each other, desperate to lean their collars together as they spread kisses all over each other's faces. They had their dresses lifted, so that their petticoats could be pinned up: Priscilla at the front, Molly at the back. Molly gasped on seeing the frills of Priscilla's panties, pointed sweetly up in front.
"Lean forward," said Mistress Chantelle. As Molly lowered his face towards the ruffled point, a cuff of pink plastic snapped shut round his neck, and he was held, .
head down, with his Mistress's pushing-stick.
"When you are employed to pleasure a gentleman's cock," declared Mistress Irma, "you start with your lips, by pressing soft kisses onto the client's helmet, then part your lips and rest them on the end in an O, caressing the helmet with the tip of your tongue. That's when you produce plenty of saliva, so that you can press forward and down, sliding your lips as low as you can until his helmet is rammed into your throat, then slide in and out. Start now."
The grip of both Mistresses tightened and obliged their sissies to comply. Sissy Priscilla found his cock dabbed with kisses, with a lovely white collar spread out in front of him. Then Molly went into sucking, and Priscilla's cock felt the smooth, wet slide of lips, deep down its length, until he was sure his helmet had lodged in Molly's throat. "Squeeze his cock tighter with your tongue," said Mistress Chantelle, emphasising her words with three smacks of her leather across his unprotected ass. "Pump your clittie through his lips," ordered Mistress Irma, pushing Priscilla forward and back round his neck.
Her sissy's panting turned to bleating, then wailing, and after just two minutes Sissy Priscilla climbed to the full height of his pleasure, trying to hold it, but losing control, until his jism squirted into the wet recesses of Sissy Molly's mouth. "I can't help it, Mistress Irma," he cried. "It's Molly's beautiful big collar - so wide - so white - in smooth glossy satin."
Sissy Molly hummed with pleasure as jets of cum filled his mouth and flooded his throat. He looked up into the smooth, satin spread of Sissy Priscilla's petticoats, and there was nothing he could do. It was too feminine - too sissy, and he spent his helpless load onto the floor in squirt after squirt after squirt.
Both Mistresses were satisfied. In no time at all their sissies were going to equate obedient sucking with all the pleasure they felt in their wide, white dress collars. It was just what they planned, since it was party frocks with white collars that topped the list of favourites for the gentlemen clients.