One semester, I actually had a professor who I KNEW was a little sissy whore. I wanted to write him this letter as I suspect he follows me on social media. I hope this finds him well!!
Dear Mr. Professor,
I can smell a sissy from a mile away, and you my dear were no exception. The first day I stepped foot in your class, I could see you following me with your eyes. Even after a long day of work with my disheveled hair up in a bun, my big nerdy glasses, and plain face, I still had you mezmerized. I saw you looking at my perfect, round tits under my loose fitted Slayer t-shirt. You were wishing you could have them as your own. To touch them and feel them while you played with your little princess clitty. And then you moved your eyes down my body, staring shamelessly at my perfectly fat ass in my yoga pants. Having taken notice, I thought I'd have a little fun with you and began to fuss around with the outlets under the work table. I struggled to get my laptop plugged in, not because my laptop needed to be charged, but I just wanted to tease and fuck with your mind. I wanted to be bent over for an exaggerated amount of time to make sure I gave you a nice long look at my perfect ass. That way you could fantasize about your ass in yoga pants being as perfect as mine.
I could tell you were owned by a mistress. Thoughts of her watching from afar and laughing as I deliberately tortured you in front of your students, swirled in my mind. I could just imagine your pathetic little loser dick in your cage all locked up, throbbing and pressing against the metal restraint hidden beneath your panties. The panties mistress had specially made for you. You know the pink satin ones with the black lace edging. She even had the back custom embroidered with "Goddess' special faggot". Knowing how uncomfortable you were and how embarassing it must have been to have to stand in front of 30 odd students being ever so reminded of your current state of chastity, ammused me greatly.
As I sat down and got logged into my student account, you began your lecture. The more you spoke, the more sissy things I noticed about you. Your painted nails, while a subtle shade of silver, were still very noticeable. I'm sure mistress had you paint them to see if they would catch anyone's eye. This was a part of your exposure plan. And then, there was your "chapstick". Well, that wasn't chapstick at all. It was actually a shimmery lip gloss that had an added plumping agent. The kind that makes your lips all nice and tingley and big. Perfect for your little whore mouth when it slides up and down around a giant throbbing cock. Certainly, none of the other students had noticed it, or maybe they had, but were to shy to say anything. I on the other hand was dying for class to be over so I could have a chance to compliment you on your nail polish and ask where you had gotten it.
I sat tentively through your lecture taking the appropriate notes. You were good at your job although you swore excessively and I found this rather unprofessional. It made it increasingly difficult to view you as anything more than another one of my submissive little bitches. I began to realize that moving forward it wouldnt matter how I preformed academically, because you were going to make sure that I was successful in your class. Finally as we were relieved from lectures to take our break, I walked up to your desk. I could see you becoming nervous. I shook your hand and personally introduced myself. You inner sissy came out immediately and you could tell that I was the kind of woman who could have you bent over and calling her daddy with little to no persuasion.
The pitch of your voice your voice raised and became soft as you stuttered to ask me questions about my major and plans for my academic future. I kept the conversation brief so I could have enough time to sneak out for a smoke, but before walking away, I looked at your hands for a moment. Even longer than a moment so you would recognize that your nails had caught my attention. The suspense of not knowing whether or not I would say anything had you lingering in anticipation. Finally, I looked you in the eye and told you how nice your nails looked today. You acted shocked that I had said anything at all, and hid your hands behind your back. I laughed and told you that pink was more your color and walked away.
The rest of the semester, you were clearly distracted by my presence. I stopped coming into class with a messy bun and yoga pants, and took special care to make sure I looked hot as fuck every single day. Perfect matte red lips and heavy cat eye liner, short skirts, leather boots, thigh highs, and my revealing low cut tops had you dying to raid my wardrobe and make up stash. I just absolutely loved torturing you and watching you squirm as you struggled to make it through your lectures. While we barely spoke the rest of the semester, your class was my favorite just because I knew I could fuck with you so subtly. Its funny how a woman can have so much control and power over you without having to say anything at all. You're just a weak little sissy whore, aren't you?
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