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Sissy Academy, Part 5: The Red Lips Exam

By Aria Wilde · Sissy feminization erotica · 9 min read · part 5 of 10

Friday

The staff are already seated when you are brought in.

Not the red office: the drawing room, the largest room in Wilde Hall, with tall windows and a fire burning in a marble fireplace though it is not cold. Chairs have been arranged in a half circle, like a little theatre. Madame Celeste with her pin cushion. Nurse Ivy with a clipboard. Miss Vale with her crop across her knees. Three teachers you have only ever served tea to. They watch you walk across the carpet in your locked heels and your cage and your stockings and nothing else, and none of them says a word.

In the middle of the half circle there is a deep velvet couch. Aria sits at one end of it.

"Lie down, Lacey. Head in my lap."

You lie down. Her lap is warm through the black silk. Her hand settles on your forehead, light and cool, and the whole room seems to tilt a little toward her.

"The Red Lips Exam is very simple," she says, to the room as much as to you. "I put her under. I test what we've built. If her body answers before her mind does, she passes." Her fingers move in slow circles over your temple. "Nobody passes the first time. Shall we begin?"

Sink for Aria

You have heard her voice in the dark every night for two weeks. You know the shape of it so well now that it feels like your own thoughts speaking in a nicer accent.

Breathe in for me, Lacey. And out. Let your eyes get heavy. You don't need to keep them open. You never needed to keep them open. Every woman in this room is watching you so you don't have to watch anything at all.

Her fingers stroke your eyelids closed.

In a moment I'm going to say three little words, and when I do you're going to drop. Not fall: drop, like a stone into warm water, all the way down to the bottom where it's quiet and soft and pink. You know the words. Your body knows the words. Ready?

You aren't. It doesn't matter.

Sink for Aria.

You sink.

It is like stepping off a stair that isn't there. The room goes away. The fire goes away. There is only her voice, and the warmth of her lap, and somewhere very far away the ache of the cage, which no longer feels like pain, only like a fact.

Good. Deeper. Every word I say takes you deeper, and every time you go deeper it feels better, and the better it feels the deeper you go. Her voice drops to a whisper meant only for you, though everyone can hear it. Good girl.

Something blooms behind your breastbone, warm and sweet. Your mouth falls open. Somebody in the half circle laughs softly and you don't mind. You are too far down to mind.

"Good girl," Aria says softly, her fingers stroking your forehead, and you sink a little further into her lap. The pink cage sits tight against your hips, your small clitty locked securely inside while the key dangles from Aria's neck within reach of her fingers. A low murmur ripples through the staff; Miss Vale crosses her legs, and Madame Celeste's eyes gleam as she smooths her skirt.

"Good girl," Aria whispers again, her voice dropping an octave to a velvet hum that vibrates in your chest. Instantly, your hips jerk upward involuntarily, and a fresh wave of heat floods through your core, making your trapped flesh throb violently against the pink bars. You can feel the dampness already building inside you, a wet slickness seeping through the bars and leaving a glistening trail on your inner thighs, but no release comes—only the building pressure that makes your toes curl inside your heels. "Look at them," she says, sliding her hand down to stroke your bare chest, her nails tracing soft circles over your nipples until they harden into sharp, aching peaks. "See how wet you get? How needy?"

You groan aloud as the pleasure spikes again, your body trembling like a leaf in a storm. "I am Lacey," you whisper, your voice slurred and thick with ecstasy. "I am a good girl." Aria smiles, her lips curving into something predatory and delighted, before she slips two long fingers into your open mouth. You swallow them eagerly, sucking hard as if your life depends on it, while her other hand pinches your erect nipples until they ache brightly. "And my hole belongs to the Academy," you moan, your head rolling in her lap. "Thank you."

Somebody in the half circle sighs. Aria leans over you, her shadow swallowing you completely. "Good girl," she says one more time, and you nearly come apart in her lap.

The test

"First trigger, passed," says Nurse Ivy, writing on her clipboard. Her voice sounds very far away.

"Second," says Aria. "Stand up, Lacey. Eyes closed. Stay under."

You stand. You don't decide to stand; your legs simply do it, and your heels find the carpet, and you sway there with your eyes shut and your arms hanging loose, a tall pretty doll in a room full of women.

"Present," Aria says.

Your body drops to its knees, spreads them wide, arches its back, lifts its chin, opens its mouth, folds its hands behind its head. It happens faster than thought. When it's done you are kneeling perfectly, and your cheeks are hot, and you have no memory of moving.

Somebody claps. Miss Vale. Just twice.

"Third," Aria says, and leans forward on the couch, and reaches for the small gold case on the side table. "Red lips."

You hear the cap come off the lipstick, and every nerve in your mouth lights up like a struck match.

The tingling is soft but electric, as if a heavy door has been thrown open inside your mind. Your knees press deeper into the plush carpet, your bare spine arching high to expose your naked belly, while your mouth waits hungrily for the next command. Aria twists up the vivid red lipstick, the scent of cherry and spice rising instantly to make your tongue throb. She strokes your lower lip with the tip, then smears the color across your swollen, trembling mouth until your whole face glows crimson. "Taste it," she whispers, pressing the lipstick harder against your lower lip. You lick frantically, scraping the pigment into your gums, feeling the tingling spread from your lips down to your throat and pooling in your belly like molten honey.

"You're already wet enough," Aria says, her fingers tracing the curve of your jawline before dropping down to stroke your hair. "Now open wider for Miss Vale." You obey without hesitation, tilting your head back as the red-stained lips part into a sloppy O. Miss Vale steps forward, her silhouette sharp in the dim light, and the creak of her harness announces her presence. The pink silicone cock hangs heavy between her thighs, glistening with pre-lube that smells faintly of vanilla. "Take it deep," she commands, guiding your tongue out to meet the warm, pulsing flesh. You wrap your lips around the plastic shaft, sucking hard until your cheeks hollow and saliva drips freely onto the carpet below.

Aria's hand moves through your matted hair in slow, rhythmic circles while her other fingers press firmly against your jaw. "Look how natural you look," she murmurs, watching as your tongue swirls around the fake cock with desperate greed. "Your mouth is so wet it's practically begging." Miss Vale adjusts the angle of her strapon, guiding your open red lips deeper until they're stretched thin and your nose fills with the scent of rubber and arousal. You gag softly, drooling heavily as you work the artificial member back and forth against your tongue, the sensation burning hot and electric in your throat. "Sloppy girl," Aria praises, her voice rich with delight as she watches the red lipstick smear further down your neck. "Look at how perfectly she face-fucks you." When Miss Vale pulls out, your red mouth stays open, waiting for more.

Passing

"Well," says Madame Celeste, after a silence. "That's never happened."

"She answered before she was asked," says Nurse Ivy, writing. "Every time."

Aria takes your face in both hands. You are still kneeling, still under, your mouth still open and smeared and aching.

"Lacey," she says. "When I count to three, you'll float up. You'll remember everything. And you'll feel exactly as proud of yourself as I am of you. One. Two. Three."

You open your eyes. The fire is crackling. The staff are looking at you, every one of them, and not one of them is looking at a lamp.

Aria leans down and kisses you once on your ruined red mouth.

"Passed," she says. "First time. The first in eleven years."

The room claps, properly this time. Somebody, Madame Celeste, wipes her eyes, though she will deny it until she dies. And you kneel there in front of them in your stockings and your heels and your cage and your smeared lipstick, and the only thing you can think of to say is the only thing you have learned to say.

"Thank you."

Aria pulls her black silk dress high over her hips until she lies back on the plush velvet chaise, exposing the soft, dark mound of her pussy that had been hidden beneath layers of authority. She spreads her legs wide and gestures for you to crawl forward, her eyes gleaming with a mix of pride and raw, uncontainable lust. "You earned this, my sweet sissy," she purrs, watching as you scramble onto the cushions and slide between her thighs. The air is thick with the scent of vanilla lube and your own smeared red lipstick, which makes your lips slick and eager to serve again. You don't hesitate; you press your face directly into her wetness, your tongue pushing forward to lick her inner lips clean while she groans above you.

"You taste like victory," Aria whispers, grinding her hips down so her soaked pussy slaps hard against your chin. "Lick deeper. Drain me dry." Your mouth works frantically now, switching from gentle licks to hungry, desperate sucking as you feel her orgasm building against your mouth. She begins to rise, her inner muscles clamping tightly around your tongue, and then she crashes down onto your face with a muffled scream. Her body shudders violently against yours, every muscle taut with pleasure, smothering you in her wet heat until the rest of the room disappears.

Her nails dig into your scalp as she erupts in waves of pure delight, her head thrown back and her voice breaking into ragged sobs. "Lacey! Good girl, oh, good girl!" The heat radiating from her core is blinding, and the key on its chain swings above your forehead, just out of reach. As she grinds harder, faster, your locked cage aches and leaks a thin stream of clear fluid onto the carpet. You can't move, can't pull away, only keep your mouth sealed around her clit as she climaxes again, again, again, each wave washing fresh wetness over your face. She holds your face against her a long moment afterwards and lets you breathe her in.

When she finally lets you go, she sits up and fastens the key back under her dress.

"Everyone out," she says to the room. "Not you, Lacey."

The staff file out. Miss Vale squeezes your shoulder on the way past. Nurse Ivy winks. The door closes, and the fire crackles, and it is just you and the headmistress in the big warm room.

Aria crosses to the tall windows and draws the curtains, one after the other, until the only light is the fire.

"Students who pass the Red Lips Exam," she says, with her back to you, "don't sleep in the dormitory anymore."

She turns around. She has the key in her hand.

"They stay after hours."