Sissies Anonymous: Paul's Story: Sissies Anonymous, #1

By Aurora Sparks

"My name is Paul, and I'm a cock-loving sissy slut..."

Paul Carson is a top executive at one of the most powerful banks in the world. The kind of wealthy, macho douchebag who cheats on his wife without a second thought and treats side chicks like tissues: he uses them once, then balls them up and throws them away. Lately, though, he's been getting bored with girls who'll drop their panties at the first scent of money. He's looking for a dominant, sexually aggressive woman who know what she wants in the bedroom.

He finds exactly that when a coworker introduces him to the mysterious and kinky Valerie. Little does he know, she's less interested in sleeping with him than turning him into a submissive sissy slut!

Valerie starts slow, demanding Paul call her "Mistress" and doling out punishment with a riding crop. Then she demands he put on a sequined dress, wig and panties. One thing leads to another, and soon he's having group sex, giving head to one of Valerie's hunky friends while receiving double anal penetration from two others.

Even after that humiliating menage, however, Valerie's not finished with Paul. She won't stop till she's manipulated him into revealing his sick secret life to the world and destroying the one thing he treasures above all else: his reputation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aurora Sparks
• Release date: Nov 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519907707

Aurora Sparks

Aurora Sparks is a young author of erotic fiction. Based in New York City, she loves to entertain and titillate with sensual tales that push boundaries and shatter taboos. Gender swap, BDSM, transgender and interactive erotica are her main interests right now, but she's always on the lookout for new ways to turn her readers on.

Book preview

Sissies Anonymous: Paul's Story

Sissies Anonymous, Volume 1

Aurora Sparks

Published by Aurora Sparks, 2015.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

SISSIES ANONYMOUS: PAUL'S STORY

First edition. November 22, 2015.

Copyright © 2015 Aurora Sparks.

Written by Aurora Sparks.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Sissies Anonymous: Paul's Story

Sign up for Aurora Sparks's Mailing List

Further Reading: SIssified for Science 2: Phase I

Also By Aurora Sparks

About the Author

My name is Paul, and I’m a cock-loving sissy slut.

OK, to be completely frank, Paul isn’t my real name. I made it up to protect my identity. And I bet you’d do the same, if you had as much to lose as I do.

How much do I have to lose, you ask? Without getting too deep into the details, I’ll simply say that I’m a high-ranking executive at one of the top five most powerful investment banks in the world. My salary is in the high six figures. And I’m happily married to my high school sweetheart, Lillian. A big part of my job is flying all over the globe to schmooze with the wealthy and powerful over fine champagne and caviar—all, of course, on the company dime. I’ve got it really fucking good.

The one downside to my line of work is the intense scrutiny I live my life under. There’s no such thing as privacy when you’re the public face of a megabank. A hit to my reputation could send the whole house of cards tumbling to the ground in the blink of an eye.

For example, if the bank’s board of directors were to discover that that existed a video of me wearing nothing but high heels, a feather boa and a blond wig, being spanked by a masked woman who isn’t my wife before taking it in the ass and mouth from three buff male strippers, I’d get dropped like a hot potato. My wife... well, she’d be on the phone with a divorce lawyer inside of five minutes. And even if she found it in her heart to forgive me, I wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye again after she’d seen me like that.

In case that oddly detailed description didn’t tip you off, that video isn’t hypothetical. It’s real, and there are two copies in existence (that I know of, anyway): one on a thumb drive tucked into the most inconspicuous inner pocket of my briefcase, and the other on Valerie’s smart phone.

It’s about time I introduced you to Valerie. After all, she’s the whole reason I’m writing this. She told me that, if I turned our relationship into a bestselling work of erotic fiction and published it for the world to read, she’d consider deleting her copy of the video.

She specified that the story had to be one-hundred percent truthful, aside from a few strategic changes designed to protect the identities of myself and others, and suggested it begin with the sentence, My name is Paul Carson, and I’m a cock-loving sissy slut. Not exactly Call me Ishmael, but it’s what Valerie wanted. And what Valerie wants, Valerie gets.

I was introduced to Valerie by a co-worker. Let’s call him Ronald. He was technically a rung above me on the corporate ladder, but I thought of him more as a friend—a brother, even—than a superior.

We became fast friends soon after I started working at the bank, and got into the habit of taking two-hour, three-martini lunch breaks together whenever one or both of us weren’t away on business.

During one of those lunches in the city, I’d had a little more to drink than usual. After we’d both polished off our Monte Cristos, I started griping to Ronald about my love life.

"Ronald, do you ever get...I don’t know, bored of women?"

Bored? He took a puff of his Nat Sherman and blew smoke out of the side of his mouth. "Like, bored of hearing them talk, or bored of fucking them? Because those are two very different things." He let out a loud, hoarse smoker’s laugh.

I sighed, wondering whether Ronald was the best person to talk to about this. Not that there was anyone else I could really confide in. Both, I guess.

Can’t say I have, brother. He paused for another puff. But I’m not a married man. You are. Maybe that boredom is your dick’s way of telling you to quit chasing tail and pay attention to your old lady.

Come on, Ron, I said, and rolled my eyes. That’s exactly the kind of preachy Dr. Phil bullshit I don’t need right now. Least of all from you.

Sorry.

I ignored Ron’s apology and continued. "Look: I love my wife—not that I need to prove that to you. She loves me. Our marriage is great. If I ‘work late’ every so often, come home smelling like somebody else’s perfume, it’s whatever, as long as I don’t rub her face in it. It’s like, a tacit agreement. My marriage is not what this is about."

If you say so. But what is it about, then?

I paused. "I guess it’s just gotten too easy.  Younger women, they catch a whiff of my bankroll and, bam, panties on the floor. Women our age are just glad anyone’s paying attention; you can practically hear their biological clocks ticking. Either way, you get them into bed and they go starfish. Sex is just a chore for them. Pathetic.