It was old and husky.He placed a hand before his face and his brows slightly creased. It was shriveled and bony, not his, furthermore it seemed he was...wearing plain white clothes that were not his.He searched for a mirror or just a clean surface that can reflect his appearance.The room was small, with two meters of floor between walls and a little over three meters to the ceiling. Despite its petite size, its two sharp corners were dark and only the round third caught a bit of light from. . . ahhhh . . . oooowww . . ." Again and again he made me flinch, staggering his slaps as if they were the rhythm to a new song. My breath coming in short, sharp bursts, I looked back over my shoulder and grinned like the nasty slut I was. Gawd, I could just hear it -- their next hit propelled to the top of the charts by a chorus of my sissy cries!A slap on my left cheek. "You're a nasty sissy, aren't you?" Yes!"A smack on my right cheek. "No better than a cheap whore, right?" Yes!"This time,. More

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