I smirked, gripping my son’s chin tightly as I smeared a thick layer of glossy red lipstick across his trembling lips. He looked pathetic, shivering in the sheer, lacey lingerie I’d forced him into. The black stockings hugged his thighs, and the push-up bra gave his flat chest a ridiculous, feminine silhouette.
“Stop shaking, you little slut,” I hissed, my voice dripping with contempt. “You’re not a man tonight. You’re just a piece of meat I’m selling to the highest bidders.”
He whimpered, tears smudging the heavy mascara I’d just applied. When he started to hyperventilate, terrified of the men coming for him, I decided to calm him down in the most degrading way possible. I knelt before him, ripping open the lace panties to reveal his tiny, useless cock. I wrapped my lips around his shaft, sucking hard and fast, not out of love, but to remind him who owned every inch of his body.
“Look at this pathetic little nub,” I mumbled against his skin, glancing up with a cruel smile. “You don’t need this. You’re a sissy. Your only purpose tonight is to take whatever those men want to shove inside you.” I gave him one last, aggressive suck before spitting on his head, leaving him drenched and shivering in his makeup.
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