The pink heels were a cruel joke, slick Each time Sissywuss strained, they threatened to slide out from under her. The boulder was heavy . Her puny arms, trembled lost in the tiny sleeves of her ‘fuck me daddy’ shirt, her pink-striped stockings hanging slack
around her stick-thin thighs.
A laugh cut through the mountain air, with the surgical precision; on 18th century butcher through a wounded sailors flesh.
It was the laugh of her Goddess
“Pathetic” Said Goddess. Before she appeared a few feet away, a vision in sleek black contempt.
She watched Sissywuss crumple against the rock.
“Please, Goddess,” Sissywuss whimpered, “It’s… it’s too heavy.”
Goddess stepped forward, She began circling the fallen, crumpled, trembling sissy.
“Such a waste of space and pretty packaging.”
Mistress gestured to the the flimsy pink lacy panties.
“I think you’ve forefitted the right to the dignity wearing panties has afforded you . Take them off “
Sissywuss obliged. The humiliation made
her flush a weak shade of pink, a shade as weak as the colour of her little frilly knickers that now lay discarded in the dust.
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