Lydia.txt, by Cindy V. femdom, TV, humiliation

Most of this story is obviously fiction.

However, some of it IS true. Can you guess which parts?

I returned to my job on Monday after taking Friday off when

I hadn't felt well, and to my surprise I couldn't unlock my file

cabinet. Someone had changed the lock! So I went to the keeper

of all such knowledge, Lydia, the department secretary. "Lydia,

did someone change the file cabinet lock while I was out?"

Our department has a single secretary that we all use when

we need her. Lydia is 24, tall and thin, with dark hair that she

wears teased in a complicated tangle of curls and waves that

somehow makes it down her shoulders. She is not well-endowed,

but makes up for it with her long legs and with skirts that are

never quite short enough for my tastes. And a cute face. She

always wears mascara and eyeliner, and a little too much

blusher. She is a woman who enjoys changing her lipstick

shades, from a high gloss frosted pink that seems more

appropriate to a 16 year old, to a brick red that gives her a

serious in-charge look. And with her sassy personality, she is

in charge, and we know not to cross her when we really need her

to do something.

"Why, yes, Andy" Lydia replied. "Didn't you read the

e-mail note I sent you?" Since I had been out ill on Friday, I

guess I hadn't read it. "Because of all the break-ins, all the

locks were changed on Friday. Here's your new key."

I thanked her for the key, and I rushed back to my office

to try it. It worked. I opened the file drawers, and everything

seemed to be in order. Everything. Including a fairly large

gym bag.

Sigh. I am a closet crossdresser. My wife does not know,

and would not approve. I own a simple skirt and blouse, a pair

of low heels, some lingerie, a wig, and some makeup. Once in a

while I will wear panties under my suit at work. I don't travel

much for work, just a professional convention now and then, but

when I go to one I will bring my clothes to dress in the privacy

of my hotel room. I am not passable - I look like a guy in a

dress. But I love the idea of dressing, the feel of lingerie,

the feeling of a skirt. And I love to wear makeup. It is my

special fetish. Generally I will watch a little television

while I am dressed and made up in my hotel room, and I will

masturbate to my own image. It's my little secret. No harm, no

foul, right?

For a while I kept my female things at home. A large gym

bag seemed like a perfect hiding place. But I was always in

fear that my wife would open it one day to wash any dirty

laundry, and then I would be found out. So I brought the bag to

work and locked it in my file cabinet. Nobody would be going

through my file cabinet but me, and even if they did, they would

only find a gym bag. So I felt comfortable with this hiding

place.

And while my heart skipped a beat about this new change in

locks, the bag seemed fine. So I went back to work, and didn't

give this a second thought.

I don't get to dress very often, so my gym bag stays closed

for a long time. Occasionally I will buy another panty to add to

my little collection. Occasionally I will find an ad for a free

trial size cosmetic, and as embarrassing as it is, I will go to

the mall to get it to add to my little collection.

In fact, that is what happened recently. One of the

cosmetics companies put an ad in the Sunday newspaper offering a

free trial size lipstick. Since they were nice enough to offer

it, I took them up on their offer. A beautifully made up

saleswoman waited on me as I fibbed to her that my wife had sent

me to pick up their free lipstick. We examined their various

shades on the back of her hand - I wished she would have tried

them on me and I'm sure I must have blushed as I imagined theses

shades on me. I picked a shade called blackberry as something

different from anything "my wife" had in her collection, thanked

the saleswoman, and left.

The next day I opened my gym bag in the file cabinet to put

my new trial sized lipstick away. And there was a little

handwritten note on yellow sticky paper: "Please see me

immediately; L."

Oh no! Somehow Lydia had opened my gym bag, probably when

the locks were changed, and she discovered my secret! She could

ruin me! Damn!

But what if I just ignored her note? And what if I simply

denied the contents of my bag? What could she really do? And

how would she know that I had found her note? I decided to just

ignore the note.

I passed Lydia's desk several times that day. I looked for

some indication that she knew I had found her note, but she just

smiled sweetly at me. Was I blushing? Did she really know? I

couldn't be sure.

Of course there was no way I could find out. So I decided

to stay as far away from Lydia as I could, hoping she would

forget about the note.

This meant doing all of my own typing. But many of us did

our own typing anyway. This was not a big deal to me. Until

one day I needed to type something with lots of mathematical

symbols in it. I had never mastered the math module of the word

processor, and I did not have time to master it now. Darn! I

was leaving that evening for a three day convention. I would

have to approach Lydia.

"Uh, Lydia? Would you type something for me? I'm going to

need it before I leave for the convention tonight."

"Why sure, Andy," she replied with a twinkle in her eye.

"I can do this in no time at all. But you know, Andy, you never

got back to me on that little note I left for you. You know -

in your gym bag?"

I'm sure I blushed beet red at the thought of Lydia having

found my stash of female clothes. I considered denying it when

Lydia piped up with "I made a copy of one of your bills - from a

mail order company. So don't even think of insulting me by

denying anything." I swallowed a large gulp of air as I waited

to hear what might come next. "Why don't you take me out to

lunch? I have a few things I want to talk to you about."

So I took her to lunch. Mine is not the kind of job where

I can pay for a secretary's lunch and charge it to an expense

account, but I figured I had better see what she wanted to talk

about. We went to a nice place. I ordered some wine for us, but

she would only drink club soda. We made small talk about work

and about her husband, and after a while my glass of wine made

me feel a little more relaxed. That's when Lydia got a little

more commanding.

"Andy, DEAR." She would never address me as 'dear' under

normal circumstances. "Remember when we changed the locks on

the file cabinets? You were sick that day, so I had to use my

key to open yours. That's when I saw your gym bag. And I

wondered what could be so important that a gym bag would be kept

in a locked file cabinet. So I opened your gym bag. I saw

everything."

I was too stunned to say a word, so I kept my lips tightly

shut.

Lydia went on. "So you like to dress up as a woman, Andy?

That's not so terrible. A harmless little fantasy. I won't

tell anyone ... "

I sighed a breath of relief.

" ... if you let me see you when you're dressed. Do you

look pretty when you're all dressed, Andy?"

"Well, uh, I ... ," I stammered. "No, I really look awful

dressed. And I'd be too embarrassed to ever let you see me."

"I could help you to look better," Lydia offered. "I think

I have a good clothes sense, don't you think?" And without

waiting for an answer, she followed that question with, "And I'm

sure I could help you with makeup. Blackberry lipstick? Are you

going for the vamp look? Come on now!"

I blushed deeply. As I had a moment to collect my

thoughts, I decided I could never allow this to happen. "No

Lydia, I won't let you see me dressed."

Lydia smiled at me. "Now Andy. I don't want to be cruel

here. But let's not forget I have a copy of one of your mail

order bills. So you shop at a large woman's store? I can

photocopy that bill and send it around in the inter-office mail,

you know."

"As I said, Andy, I don't want to be cruel. OK, I can see

it would be too embarrassing for you to dress in front of me.

How about this: what if you went somewhere where they dressed

you, and had a picture taken? I bet if you had a professional

makeup job done, no one would recognize you. Then I would be

satisfied and you would remain anonymous."

This sounded like a pretty fair compromise. "But I don't

know any place like that," I whined.

"Oh, but I do," replied Lydia helpfully. "Glamour Shots.

They do makeovers, glamorous clothing, and photos. I bet if I

called, they would do you up as a woman. I guarantee they would

make you up to be so pretty that no one would recognize you. And

I happen to know there is one right near the convention. Why

don't you think about which way you'd rather do this, letting me

see you all dressed, or going to Glamour Shots by yourself and

bringing me a picture? I need to go to the ladies room. When I

come back, I want your answer."

Lydia took her purse and got up to visit the ladies room.

There was no way I would dress in front of her. But Glamour

Shots? Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Hey, it might even be

fun.

Lydia came back and sat quietly, waiting for me to talk

first. "OK, you win," I announced reluctantly. "Glamour Shots

it is."

She smiled at me triumphantly. "It will be an experience

you won't forget, Andy," she said.

And then her face got serious. "OK, dear, but you have

some work to do first. You are going to have shave about an

inch of hair down your chest, or else your chest hair will show

from the neckline. You won't be wearing a shirt buttoned at the

neck, you know. And you'll have to shave the hair off your

hands, a little past the wrists. We can't have that showing

either.

I considered for a moment how I would explain this at home,

but before I could object Lydia followed up with, "And your

eyebrows really need some work, too. You were going to get a

haircut after lunch anyway. I want you to have them wax your

eyebrows while you are there."

Before I could open my mouth to complain, Lydia said, "Now

don't worry, I just want them to clean up the little hairs below

your eyebrows. You really will look a lot neater, even if you

weren't going to Glamour Shots. Agreed?"

"Well, OK, Lydia."

Lydia continued. "I want you to do one more thing for me.

I want you to be in the right mood for the makeover and the

clothes and the photos. I want you to go into the men's room

right now and put these panties on." And with that she handed me

a crumpled pair of black lace panties. They were warm and

slightly pungent. That's when I realized she must have taken

them off when she went into the ladies' room. "Put them on,

dear, and give me your underpants so I know you're wearing them.

I'll wait for you outside the men's room door." And she stood

up, waiting for me to go.

I don't know why, but I followed her command. They were

too small, of course, but they were silk and they felt wonderful

against my skin. I emerged from the men's room and handed her

my underpants, hoping no one would see the transaction. I paid

the bill, and we left to return to work.

When she got back to her desk, Lydia wanted me to listen

while she telephoned Glamour Shots to make an appointment for

me.

"Hello, my name is Lydia. Do you have any appointments

available for this evening?" I held my breath, hoping the

answer would be 'no'. "You do? Seven-thirty? Yes, that would

be fine." She grinned at me wickedly.

"Oh no, it's not for me, it's for a guy named Andy. I'm

his secretary, and I'm requiring him to go. You do guys, right?

Uh huh. That's right. Oh no, I think you misunderstand. I

want you to make him up and dress him as a woman."

There was a long pause at the other end of the phone

conversation. Then Lydia continued.

"Oh, you have done guys as women, before? Great! What

does he need to bring? A wig, OK. And false eyelashes? Hmm, I

wouldn't have thought of that. And you supply large size

clothes above the waist, right?"

Lydia started to get creative. "Will you do his nails,

too? No, you don't do nails? Darn. OK, I'll have him take

care of that himself." This was getting more complicated, and I

was liking it less and less. "OK, so we're set for

seven-thirty?" Then to me, "Andy, they need your credit card

number." I reluctantly gave it to her to read over the phone.

"And one last thing: Feel free to tease him and embarrass him

as much as you like. Have a good time with him! Bye."

Lydia's eyes positively sparkled with mischievousness. She

had me, but good, and she knew it. "Oh Andy, I only wish I

could go with you on your convention to be there with you."

This Glamour Shot thing was going to be embarrassing enough;

thank goodness she wasn't going there with me!

"Now Andy, don't forget I want you to get your eyebrows

waxed when you get your haircut. And pack your wig. I happen

to know you have one in your gym bag, right? And you need to go

to a drug store to buy false eyelashes and really red nail

polish. They said they wouldn't do your nails, so you will

have to do them yourself. Do them in your car, just before your

7:30 appointment. And when I see your pictures, if you left out

the eyebrow waxing, or the false eyelashes, or the nail polish,

well, then our deal is off and I will send that copy of your

mail order bill around to everybody. Get it?" I nodded,

shamefacedly.

"Then get back to work, dear. You have a couple of more

hours before you need to leave."

I did have a couple of more hours, but I could barely

concentrate I felt so embarrassed about what Lydia had set me up

for. I sneaked out when she wasn't looking so I wouldn't have

to face her one more time that day.

I had planned to get a haircut, although I usually go to

one of those nine dollar haircut places. That barber would

laugh me out if I asked about eyebrow waxing. I knew of a

unisex salon; they would probably do it. I went there, and they

did have an opening for a haircut. I sat in the chair and the

stylist was a cute brunette about 25. We made small talk and

then I asked her, "Uh, I'm having some photos taken. Would it

be possible to have someone remove a little hair from under my

eyebrows?" "You mean, like have them waxed?," she asked.

"Sure, we have someone who will do that for you." And when the

haircut was finished, she showed me to a backroom.

A very pretty redheaded girl, also about 25, sat me down,

and asked me what I wanted. She was lovely. Long dark

eyelashes, and beautifully shaped and groomed eyebrows. I was

wondering whether she colored those eyebrows or not. She leaned

my head way back in the chair, and started painting a hot goop

under my eyebrows. "Is it too hot?," she asked. I replied

'no'. She then placed some long paper-like strips on my eyes.

"Do you like my eyebrows?," she asked, "because in a moment

yours will look just like mine." And before I could respond she

quickly yanked the strip of paper off my left eye, and then did

the same with my right. The speed of the whole thing shocked

me, and my eyes stung. "She smiled at me as her words sunk in.

"Only kidding - I just took a tiny bit off you," she said. She

then leaned in very close with a tweezers and removed a few more

stray hairs. "There - take a look." I did. They looked quite

a bit neater, and she had not done feminine arches at all. I

breathed a sigh of relief.

I paid my salon bill and tipped the stylist and the eyebrow

waxer. Next stop was the drug store. False eyelashes and nail

polish. Really red nail polish, I seem to recall. OK, that

wasn't hard to find. And although Lydia didn't volunteer it, I

bought nail polish remover too. I knew just enough that it

didn't come off with soap and water. False eyelashes were a

little harder to find. There wasn't a huge display like the

nail polish. I had to ask. A young girl looked like she worked

there, maybe 16, with dark red, almost black lipstick. "Uh,

where would I find false eyelashes?" She gave me a funny look,

like what was I doing buying false eyelashes, but she showed me

where they were. I picked out a pair, paid for my purchases,

and left the store. Then I drove the two hour drive to the

convention site.

I checked in at the hotel, dropped off my bags, and put my

wig and my new purchases in a shopping bag. I had just enough

time to shave my face, and also my hands and an inch off my

chest as Lydia said. Shaving the backs of my hands up to my

wrists was a new sensation. They seemed so nice and smooth. I

couldn't imagine why guys never shave them.

I dressed and put Lydia's panties back on. They did help

get me in the right frame of mind for this. I had brought a

pair of opaque black thigh high stockings with me, and I

figured, what the heck, so I put them on too. I went down to the

lobby and asked for directions to the mall where this Glamour

Shots was. It was about a twenty minute drive, which would put

me there at about 7 PM. I guessed that would give me enough

time to put on the nail polish in my car, and still make it for

the 7:30 appointment. I arrived at the mall, found the

Glamour Shots, and found a nearby parking spot with plenty of

lighting. So I opened up the bottle of nail polish. Revlon "Red

After Dark" - seems like an appropriate choice! I started

stroking it on my nails. Wow - I was startled by the sudden

brightness of the color. I tried to be careful not to get the

nail polish over anything else. But I was being too careful and

was not getting the edges of my nails painted. So I got a

little more daring and made sure to get the edges, although in

doing so I got a little of my fingers too. Eventually I got one

hand done, let it dry, and did the other. And when the second

hand dried, it was almost 7:30.

I locked the car and started walking towards Glamour Shots.

The brilliant color was really shocking. Should I walk with

both hands in my pockets? No, that would look ridiculous. I

tried to walk casually, but with both my hands in fists so that

only the nails of my thumbs and pinky fingers would show. No

one looked too closely, and this worked OK.

I entered Glamour Shots. There were two receptionists, but

they were both busy talking to customers. I waited patiently.

Then one of them finished and asked if she could help me. "Hi.

I'm Andy, and I have a 7:30 appointment," I said. She looked at

her clipboard and found my name. "Yeah, here you are. Would

you fill out this form and then we'll get you started?"

So I reached for her paper, and of course my brightly

polished nails came right into her view. She smiled a huge

smile as she saw them, then looked at her clipboard again. She

must have thought to herself, "so this is the one who wants to

be done as a woman?," but she said nothing to me. I filled out

the form and gave it back to her. Then she brought a very cute

young woman over to me and introduced her as Vanessa. "Vanessa

will do your makeup, Andy."

Vanessa was maybe 20. Short, straight blonde hair, long,

long eyelashes, makeup that appeared a little too thick to me,

and full and lightly glossed lips. Very cute. She wore a

miniskirt with black tights and heels. She smiled and reached

out her hand to me. Then she saw my nail polish.

"Oooh, look at this girls," she said to the other makeup

artists. Isn't this just so precious?" Already she had me

blushing. "But Sweetie, next time you do your nails, try to

stay within the lines, OK? So, you want to be a girl?"

I tried to explain, "No, I really didn't want to be a girl,

but this secretary Lydia ... ." Vanessa really wasn't

interested. "Sweetie, go into the men's room, take your shirt

off, and put on one of those tube tops so that it covers your

titties. That's what all the girls wear." There didn't seem to

be much point in refusing, so I did. Then Vanessa sat me down

in her chair.

I looked around. There was a huge mirror, with all sorts

of bottles and powders and brushes. There was a chair to my

left, but it was empty. There was also a chair to my right, and

sitting in it was a very pretty blonde woman who was having her

makeup done by another makeup artist. The other makeup artist

introduced herself to me as Janey, and introduced her blonde

client as Francine. Francine looked at me in my tube top and my

painted nails, and you could see she was disgusted with me. I

said "hi" to both of them, and told Francine I thought she was

very pretty. She did not acknowledge me, feeling that my

opinion was of no importance to her.

Vanessa started working on me. She asked what kind of

image I wanted. The choices were basically between a natural

look and a glamour look. Somehow natural didn't seem to make

sense, and I had an awful feeling that Lydia wouldn't like that

after seeing the pictures, and would make me go back for

glamorous anyway. So I chose glamorous. I asked to have a few

moles and things covered up, and I asked if she could narrow

what I consider my too broad nose. Vanessa said "no problem,"

and merrily worked away.

She sponged on foundation in what she called a medium light

olive shade. She kept sponging and blending until I was amazed

how even my face looked. She applied a translucent powder to set

the foundation. She applied some dark brown powder to the sides

of my nose, which she explained would shadow and narrow it. She

lengthened my eyebrows and gave a slight arch to them with a

dark pencil. She applied more shades of eyeshadow than I could

keep track of, both dark and light shades, giving me dramatic,

deep set eyes.

Meanwhile as the other makeup artists would pass by, they

all made a point of saying something to me. "The girl in you is

really starting to come out." "His eyes are looking prettier

than mine." "You go, girl."

I think Francine, next to me, was getting jealous of the

attention I was getting. She was doing some of her own makeup,

which I didn't understand - isn't that part of the reason to

come to a place like Glamour Shots, so that someone else can do

your makeup? I asked her that, but she ignored me.

Meanwhile she was asking all the makeup artists for their

advice, including mine. "Should I wear blue eyeliner? Should I

wear my hair up?" I asked my makeup artist, Vanesssa, if she

would mind getting back to me. I could see Francine getting

angry at me, as if her makeup and time were more important than

mine, because after all she was the real female.

Vanessa went back to me. She applied some thick black

eyeliner to both my upper and lower eyelids. She darkened my

eyelashes with thick black mascara, and then called someone else

over to attach my false eyelashes. This was a guy, who must

have been a crossdresser himself, because he said my false

eyelashes were much shorter than the ones he wears. He glued my

false eyelashes on me, which really weighed my eyes down.

A guy in a suit appeared next to Francine, apparently her

boyfriend. She called him David. Apparently she and David were

going to be in some pictures together. David must have arrived

through another door, since nobody had seen him here. He was

wearing a small amount of foundation, so he must have had his

makeup sitting, and wanted Francine's advice on which tie he

should wear.

David started teasing Francine, asking how much longer she

would need to be in the makeup chair - it hadn't taken him that

long. Now Francine, despite the fact that she had done her own

mascara and eyeliner, really looked gorgeous, in my humble

opinion, although David had not acknowledged that. Francine

didn't say anything in response to David, and I felt kind of

badly for her. So I said, "sometimes guys don't realize how

long it takes to look nice for them." I meant this more as a

little support for Francine, but David really scowled at me,

probably thinking that I was gay and that I was being made up so

I would look nice for some guy!. I don't think Francine

appreciated my remark either.

One of the other makeup artists got into the act too,

telling David "You'd better be nice. Sometimes we have to strap

the men down in order to make them up nice."

Vanessa continued on me. Some dark blush, streaked a

little too far and not blended enough, making its effect obvious

and cheap. Then she looked at my nails and said, "Well, we have

to find a matching lipstick color, don't we?" She slowly lined

my lips with a pencil and then used a brush to color my lips a

serious red in a wet texture. She kept applying more and more

lipstick until she was satisfied with the results, and then had

me blot my lips with a tissue.

While Vanessa combed out my wig, making it bigger and

bigger, I saw Francine again. She was in a dark blue jacket and

skirt. With all the sexy clothes they have there, I was amazed

someone as beautiful as she would choose that. I couldn't

resist saying something to her. "It's so conservative!" She

replied in an annoyed tone as if to say it was none of my

business, "I'm a lawyer," implying she would damn well wear what

she wanted, not my fantasy of what she should wear.

Francine and David went off to the photographer's part of

the studio to have their pictures done, while Vanessa put my wig

on me. She kept playing with it, making it fuller and fuller,

until I had a bigger head of curls than I had ever gotten that

wig to look before. Then she sprayed me all over with hair

spray, including my face which I'm sure was on purpose for the

discomfort of it. The complete look, however, of the wig with

the makeup was astounding. It was me in the mirror, but it

wasn't me. And I wasn't a bad looking girl!

Then Vanessa showed me the clothes they had. They have

blouses and jackets, fake furs, silk wraps, and so on, all for

above the waist. There was a selection of extra large sizes,

although not as much as for more normal women's sizes. They

give you four choices, and you take four photos with each

outfit. So we found four outfits and I was about to go into the

try-on room to put on the first one when another of the makeup

artists came by. Her nametag said Megan. She was kind of

heavy, but with a very pretty face and lots of elaborate eye

makeup.

"Oh, Vanessa, he's so darling, you did a wonderful job with

him." And she held my hand to examine my nails. "I love the

nail polish too."

"Thanks, Megan," replied Vanessa. "I really wish I could

dress him up all the way, but we don't have dresses here."

Megan looked me up and down. "I have an extra black skirt

of mine in the back. I wonder if he would fit in it." And with

that Megan and Vanessa hustled me into a back room. Before I

could protest they had unbuckled my belt and were sliding my

pants down. Of course they saw my panties - wait they were

Lydia's panties - and my black stockings.

"Oh look, he really IS a sissy," Megan squealed. "He came

prepared with panties and stockings. I bet you have a whole

outfit. You should have worn it when you came in. You're

loving this whole thing, aren't you?"

They put Megan's black skirt on me, and it fit. Megan also

had a pair of her heels in the back too, and although they were

a little small they managed to cram my feet into them. Vanessa

brought my pants and shoes into the men's room for me. When

they put my first change of clothes on me, a brightly colored

jacket that they buttoned all the way up, I looked completely

like a girl from head to toe!

Then they brought me into the photographer's booth. They

introduced me to Staci. Staci was about 19, long straight

blonde hair, absolutely no makeup that I could notice although

she didn't need any because she was so naturally pretty, and a

minidress. Wow - the whole staff at this place was absolutely

gorgeous!

Staci smiled at me as Vanessa explained that they wanted

these photos to look as pretty and feminine as possible. "No

problem, just leave him to me," Staci said with quiet authority.

She picked out some clip on earrings for me, and then started

posing me. Throughout the sixteen photos, as she changed me

into my other outfits, she put me in the most humiliating

feminine poses - blowing kisses at the camera, hand coyly under

my chin, twirling with my hair, caressing a necklace, wrist

daintily bent, and the worst - batting my eyelashes as I

smelled a rose. With each picture she urged me on with comments

like, "Oh, that looks so sweet" and "You're doing so well, are

you sure you haven't done this before?" Every now and then

Vanessa and Megan would come in and admire the computer

displays of the photos taken so far and giggle at me. The last

outfit was a brightly colored silk wrap. Just a long piece of

silk material that they wrapped around me several times,

imprisoning my arms inside the material. In fact Staci teased

me that she had me in bondage, and that this would make an

interesting picture. Finally the photographing part was done.

Staci removed my earrings and told me to go into the men's room

to remove my clothes and makeup, and then to come back out when

I was dressed in my own clothes to choose my photos and settle

the bill.

So I went into the men's room, and there was David,

Francine's boyfriend. He had removed his suit and was only

wearing his underpants, bent over the sink washing the makeup

off his face. There was only one sink in the room, so I waited

patiently for him to be done. While I was waiting I made some

small talk.

"Your girlfriend is really a knockout, you know. I enjoyed

watching her get made up for your pictures," I remarked casually.

David seemed to dislike me even more than Francine did. He

glared at me as he dried his face with a towel. "You little

twirp. You're just a girlie boy. Or worse. You have no right

talking about my woman like that!" And with that he snapped his

towel at me. It hurt, and I screamed. He snapped it at me

again. Meanwhile I was trapped by this damn silk wrap that they

had tied around me so I couldn't get my hands free. David

laughed at me in my inability to defend myself.

"Hey Francine," David yelled, at his girlfriend who must

have been in a nearby room, changing. "Get in here, you have to

see this." And with that, Francine entered, with a towel

wrapped around her because she was in bra, panties and a slip.

David snapped his towel at me some more, in front of Francine,

no doubt impressing her with his machismo on my defenseless

bound body. "He's such a girlie boy, isn't he? Why don't you

do it too?" So Francine removed her towel and started snapping

it at me, and they alternated, enjoying hearing me scream and

watching me unable to get away from them.

When he had had enough, David said to me, "You know, you

ought to apologize to Francine for saying those things about

her." I couldn't recall a single thing to be sorry for, but I

apologized anyway.

Francine was not satisfied. "You know, he was bothering me

the whole time I was being made up. I think we should make him

kneel down in front of me to apologize." There was a couch, so

Francine sat down to make herself comfortable. David put his

hands on my shoulders and pushed me into a kneeling position in

front of her. I apologized again. Francine seemed to enjoy her

position of power over me and commanded, "Kiss my feet." So I

did, grateful that my red lips did not leave lip prints on her

feet.

David thought it would be amusing to subjugate me further.

"That's enough of that. Now kiss her higher. You know where.

Better you than me, that's for sure."

So David, the macho pig, did not believe in giving oral sex

to Francine. I on the other hand enjoy doing it. So I kissed

Francine in the crotch, through her panties. I tried to push

her panties right into her hole. She seemed to enjoy this, and

she kicked her panties off, giving me unrestricted access to her

pussy. I kissed and licked and sucked her like obviously he had

never done to her. She was loving it.

"Oooh, David, I'm getting so horny," she said to him.

Meanwhile David had gone out of the room for a moment - and came

back with Staci! David whispered something to Staci, and

suddenly Staci came back with a camcorder and started filming

this! I couldn't believe it! Meanwhile I was tonguing Francine

for all I was worth, my arms still bound to my body in that dumb

wrap they had tied me into.

"You know, David," Francine said, as she let me come up for

air. "You're not the only one who doesn't like to perform oral

sex. It grosses me out to do it to you. Let's see the little

sissy do it on you." So she sat David down on the couch, pulled

down his shorts, and pushed me down in front of him. "Do it,

sissy," she commanded me. I shook my head no. "Do it, or I'll

have him shove it up your ass instead."

I am not bisexual, and I have never had anything up my ass

but my doctor's finger. But I sensed she was serious and it

would not be pleasant if he fucked my ass. So I stared at his

cock. I resignedly gave it a little lick. It responded to my

touch. I licked it again. Francine was cheering me on "Go to

it, sissy." I put his cockhead in my lips and rolled my lips

over it. It wasn't so bad. I took a little more. I started

sucking him a little at a time. The sensation was erotic to me.

I took more and more until I was sucking him in earnest. David

was loving it, and his cock was getting bigger and bigger in my

mouth.

Suddenly David removed his cock from my mouth. He laid

Francine down on the couch. He laid me perpendicular to her,

with my head under her crotch and her thighs resting on my head.

This gave me access to her pussy again. "Lick her, you sissy,"

he commanded me. Then he mounted her from the other end of the

couch. He started fucking her, with my head under both her

pussy and his cock. "Keep licking," he commanded. I was

licking her pussy as well as his cock and balls. He kept

pumping away, and both of them seemed turned on by the extra

stimulation I was providing. Every now and then out of the

corner of my eye I saw another figure - Staci. Staci was

filming the whole thing! This was so humiliating! David pumped

away on Francine until he came. They rested for a minute, on my

face, and then let me up. Staci untied me from the dreadful

silk wrap, and they all let me go back in the men's room to wipe

off my makeup and put my own clothes back on.

It took a long time to get the makeup off. I especially

struggled with the eye makeup, and it seemed that eyeliner would

never come off. Then I rubbed and rubbed to get the lipstick

off. Although the red color came off, my lips were pink from

rubbing so much. Then I removed the nail polish too. I dressed

and came out.

David and Francine were gone. Staci sat me down and didn't

say a word about what had gone on. She showed me computer

images of my sixteen photos, discussed prices and how many you

can get in various sized units. One each of four different

poses sounded plenty to me, and I chose four, with Vanessa and

Staci's help as to which made me look the cutest. The photos

take about two weeks, and they would mail them. I paid the

bill, tipped Vanessa and Staci, and was about to leave.

The phone rang. The receptionist picked it up, and it was

for me. It was Lydia! "Well, Andy, did you have a good time?

Was it fun?" There seemed no point in telling her all the

details, so I said, "Yes it was sort of fun."

Then Staci took the phone from my hand. "Who am I speaking

to? Oh, I see. Hi Lydia. This is Staci, the photographer.

Yes, he was a wonderful model. The pictures will come out

great. Oh, you can't wait to see them? Well, I'll mail them

directly to you then. He picked out four. But then I took a

few more shots afterward. I'll throw a few of them in too, no

extra charge."

Then looking at me, Staci asked, "Won't that be fun when

Lydia sees them?"