Fierce Femme Sissy: A Rich CEO Forced-Feminization Sissy Romance

“Cici, would you bring me the quarterly sales breakdown on the Fierce Femme line?”

“In just a sec, Ms. Lupo. They’re in the pipeline.”

I reach over and pluck the warm sheets from the output bin. The white paper is a bright contrast to my long, delicate fingers and inch-long, hot-pink acrylic nails.

I tuck a wayward swirl of platinum blonde hair—part of my full, fluffy femme mane—back in place, check my makeup with the compact in my Guerlain purse, and saunter into my boss’s office with short, delicate steps.

My big D-cup boobs bounce with every step under my plunging-neckline silk blouse, which I’ve left open to the third button. My juicy, round ass cheeks sway under a high-waisted hobble skirt. I hear the rustle of my satin and lace slip along my thighs and calves.

As Personal Secretary to the CEO of Fierce Femme Cosmetics, I’m supposed to look—and act—like Femininity with a capital F. Ms. Lupo insists on it.

“Shut the door, Cici.”

Pampered, pampered Cici.

Big, blue, kohl-lined eyes gazing demurely through expensive false lashes. I close the door and step forward to await instructions from my boss. To call Vera Lupo “sexy” is to call Mount Everest a hill. She took my breath away when I first met her, and she hasn’t stopped since.

She rises, towering above me in my own five-inch stilettos, and I’m hyperaware of having to look up at her as she models on her skyscraper Louboutins.

Ms. Lupo takes the warm reports from my pink-tipped hands and drops them carelessly on the desk, then drags me into her arms and kisses me hungrily. I submit a hundred percent to her ravishing, closing my eyes with a sigh and folding my arms around her neck.

I love being manhandled by my lover. I find it so deliciously naughty when she does it at the office. I dress as provocatively as possible for her, because she loves her “silly bimbo blonde.” I know she’ll be watching—and wanting me. We’ve played these little games since my first day on the job…as a woman.

I take extra care to make myself look appetizing for Ms. Lupo. Since I’ve joined the company, I’ve worked hard to present myself as the ultimate office eye-candy; glam lashes, porn-star pink lips, cleavage, shapewear, wild heels. Nothing is off the menu. Why? Because my boss likes me that way! So do most of the girls in the office, my new besties.

Nothing makes me feel more powerful (stupid?) than the sexy smiles on men’s faces when I pass through the reception area, certain their balls will be blue for a week. Tee hee.

As silly as it sounds? Things could be worse. I’ve got a job, at least. Until recently, that wasn’t a big deal for most twenty-six-year-old college grads. That was then; this is now. Most of my friends are still sending out resumes, filling out apps, and trying to drag their young butts into the newest employment office.

I have big-boy ideas for my BA in information technology. I planned on moving right into a Fortune 500 conglomerate, maybe in technical services, at least in application development. Cici Sinclair, computer genius. But these aren’t ordinary times, and I needed a regular paycheck.

Okay, so Fierce Femme isn’t Fortune 500. But it is Fortune 1000 and fast rising. The company carries several well-known cosmetics and perfume franchises and boasts an extensive biochemical R&D d