Kimmie checked herself one final time in the mirror, to make sure that
she looked acceptable - or rather that she looked perfect; at least as
perfect as a worthless and nearly used up sissy bitch could look. Her
black hair, still completely untouched by grey, looked good - very good
- in the perfectly combed page boy she kept it in. Her makeup was
flawless; lips full and red, eyes framed in just the right amount of
black.

Around her neck was her very best necklace, made from big, black, shiny
pearls. Not real pearls of course - nothing she owned was valuable in
any way - but nice nonetheless. Her earrings matched of course, as did
the ring on her finger. She had chosen black because most of her
wardrobe was black as was her best outfit; the one she wore tonight, for
the most special night of the month, for date night.

Her skirt was black, smooth and stopped just above the knee, its
surprisingly elegant cut making her ass look good. Surprisingly because
it, like everything else she owned, was not a designer label, but rather
a rip-off of a designer label and visibly so. Her white silk imitation
shirt was smooth and her full, round and entirely fake tits held the
fabric up nicely, now of course helped by a push up bra. Past forty now,
her once full and perky silicone tits were now only full and sagged when
not held up by a bra. She didn't wear any panties, but then again she
never had. The only thing in the way of covering anything she had down
there was same inescapable chastity device she had now worn for 25
years. It hadn't been off for all those years and she had nearly
forgotten what her sissy clit looked like underneath. Not that she was
ever going to find out - Master had made that perfectly clear - but she
still wondered sometimes, just as she still wondered how an orgasm would
feel. 25 years of enforced chastity had only dampened her desire very,
very slightly and she wasn't entirely sure that it didn't have something
to do with age rather than chastity.

Finally her feet were held in a pair of black lacquer stilettos. They
were the single most sexy and yet elegant part of her outfit and easily
the most expensive. They had six inch heels, thinner than a pencil and
were made from a shiny black plastic-like material. The shoe itself had
thin heel strap and was very narrow with a toe so pointy it most of all
resembled an arrowhead. 25 years ago they would have been almost two
sizes too small for her feet, but her toes along with the rest of her
foot were now so twisted, compressed and ruined that shoes even a
fraction larger would be too large. The shoes were as shiny as it was
humanly possible and of all the things in her wardrobe she loved these
the most.

She had loved heels ever since Master had first made her wear them, all
the way back when she had merely been a shy, gay teenager with a crush
on a strong and handsome man she sometimes met on the way home from high
school. As she looked at herself in the mirror, checking that the shirt
was not rumpled before she put on the black bolero jacket completing her
outfit, she recalled again how he had approached the slight and somewhat
feminine teenage boy she had been while that boy had bought a soft
drink. None of his friends and no one he knew had been around as the
tall and muscular young man, only a couple of years older than himself,
had suddenly stood behind him at the counter, his hand unseen by others
gently caressing his prey's ass, making him jump slightly. The clerk had
seen nothing and no one had noticed how he waited outside for the man
who had groped him to exit. God, he had been so excited! Only seventeen
at the time, fully aware that he was homosexual, but too shy to have had
sexual relations with anyone yet, he had been standing outside the
store, his heart pounding and his cock rock hard in his jeans. His
future Master had been so casual, so blasé when he came out of the store
and approached him; so calm when he suggested that they meet later. Even
then he had had a hard time understanding how he could possibly agree to
such a dangerous arrangement. Sure he had been high on lust, but even so
he should have been more cautious.

But no. That very night he had not only blown the man, but also been
fucked. Three days later he had accepted putting on heels for the first
time. He remembered the red