Simon

[Simonssister]

Chapter XV:  Boot Boy

It took me a few minutes to throw off my normal clothes and slip into my outfit.  My pants were soft and cool.  I had dusted them with talc inside and out and I polished them with a soft cloth to give the latex a misty glow.  It somehow looked more normal and functional than a gleaming, reflective surface, and made me feel more like a professional workman than a professional tart!  I came out of my bathroom and took a look at myself in the mirror behind the main door.  I was thinking of what Sue had said about needing to look smart.  I tried to tuck in my T-shirt neatly but it always looked untidy under the fine latex.  I went to the cupboards and managed to find a much smaller size.  That was better; it was tight, but short enough not to need tucking in.  It gave a glimpse of my tummy but it looked better than a lot of bulky cotton spoiling the line of my pants.  My boyhood was clearly happy to be back in its favourite material, and was getting a little unruly.  I moved it from one side of the centre seam to the other, but neither was quite aesthetically satisfactory, and it wouldn’t stay put in the middle.  I should have just left it alone, because predictably its response to being continually handled was to swell to conspicuous dimensions and then refuse to recede.  I checked the clock nervously.  It was nearly nine-thirty and there was no way I could open the door to my first customers in this state.  I wondered whether I had time to take appropriate action but even as I did so I heard the crunch of boots on the gravel, and there was a peremptory knock on the door.  In a rare flash of genius I remembered something I had seen in the cupboard.  In a second I had rummaged and found of little frilled pink latex apron!  Fastening it on I hastened to answer the door.  There stood Mrs More-Burley, with an expression of superiority and disdain on her face, as if determined to convey in a single expression both her expectation of the highest standard of service and her equally devout expectation of being disappointed.  In front of her she held her little daughter, who had clearly made the most of the muddy puddles on the path to render her famous red boots as dirty as possible.
“Good morning Madam!  And Mademoiselle!” I added, sycophantically, my erection subsiding rapidly at the sight of them.  “Do come in, please.”
They marched in, Elizabeth leaving a trail of muddy boot prints on the floor.  The mother said nothing, but looked about critically.  She was a tall, strong-looking woman, with an aura of dissatisfaction about her person.  She was, I guess, in her late thirties.  She had an angular face and her black hair was tightly pinned into an uncompromising bun.  She stood looking around her with her hands on her hips, a key on a ribbon dangling from one hand.  I wondered if it was the key to the secret cupboard.  Her daughter, who was about ten, and, except for her boots, neatly turned out in breeches, tweed jacket, white shirt and Pony Club tie, started to explore the cupboards.
“Liz, leave those please.  Go and sit on the couch.  He can do me first.”
“Mummy, what’s that pole for?”
“That’s private.  Go and sit, please!”
She complied reluctantly.  “Mummy, why is he wearing an apron?  It’s not even red.”
“Yes, boy, why are you wearing a pink apron?  I didn’t request that, did I?”
“No, no, Madam, I’m sorry.  I put it on because it’s a wet day, in case either of you had muddy boots.  I see your daughter’s are quite muddy…”
“I see.  Well take it off.  You can put it back on when you attend to her.”
“Yes, of course.”  I could take it off now without fear of scandalising the clientele.  “Please take a seat.”
But now Mrs More-Burley was opening the little customer’s cupboard and exploring the contents.
“What’s in there, Mummy?”
“Nothing that would interest you, darling.  Sit quietly, please.”  Then to herself, “Goodness me, I need to come back here another time, I can see.  Without my daughter.  Do you know what’s in here, er, what’s your name?”
“Simon, Madam.”
“Have you looked in here?”
“No, Madam, I’m not allowed to.”
“Oho,” she laughed, “I wish I’d known about this.  I would have left Elizabeth at home.”
Putting her finger to her lips she held up a butt-plug for me to see but out of sight of her daughter.  I gasped.  Then a gag, anatomically correct, on a leather strap.  I could see a lot of other stuff too, as well as the glint of chains and rings and padlocks.  She closed the door, grinning.
“I’m booking another session as soon as I get out of here,” she said, quietly.  “Oh, Simon, we’re going to have such fun.  I’m tingling already just at the thought.”
She seated herself in the chair, adjusting her posture with the controls until she was comfortable.  I knelt on the platform, my thoughts in a whirl, and slid it forward to the appropriate position, locking it into place.  Her boots were old but good quality tan leather, and I was soon brushing and polishing.  Her demeanour had changed completely, and she was now smiling down on me as I worked with a degree of interest and satisfaction.
“Did you know there’s a nice collar and leash in there, Simon?”
“What’s in there, Mummy?” asked Elizabeth, overhearing.
“A collar and leash, darling, in case I had a dog I needed to walk.”
“Oh.  We could bring Rex one day, then.”
“We could.  Or I could see if I could find a nice little doggy here somewhere to take outside.  What do you think, Simon?  Would that be a good idea?”
“We don’t have a dog here, Mrs More-Burley.” I said.
“Oh, dear, what a shame!  It would be so nice to walk a good obedient little doggy around and around, to let him nuzzle in all the secret places with his little wet nose, and feed him nice sweet sticky treats, don’t you think?”
I gulped, but said nothing.
“I’m sure if I offered him something tasty and juicy he’d lap it up eagerly, don’t you?  You know how little doggies are when they are offered something they can’t resist, and how excited they get, how they jump up and stand on the hind legs and have to be cuddled and stroked and stroked until they’ve had enough.”
“Yes, Mummy, Rex is like that sometimes, and then after all the excitement he just goes to sleep, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, dear, he does.  The secret is, to play with him and play with him and stroke him and tickle him for ages and ages, to pull his ears and let him lick you so much, and then tickle his tummy until… oh, suddenly he can’t take anymore!  You see, Simon, we know all about little doggies and how to please them, don’t we Lizzie?”
“Yes, Mummy.  Simon looks very hot.  You look very red, Simon.  Are you hot?”
“Oh, I think Simon is red because he’s going to clean your red boots in a moment.  Is that it Simon?”
“Yes, Mrs More-Burley, that’s it,” I gasped, desperately trying to hide what had become a massive erection by leaning forward as far as I could and pretending to polish the toecaps of her boots.  Elizabeth took the opportunity to slide forward on the couch and rest her feet on my back.
“Darling, I’m not sure Simon likes you doing that.”
“Do you mind me doing that, Simon?”
“No, no, not at all, Elizabeth.”
“Oh, he’s such a nice boy, isn’t he dear?”
“Yes.  I like Simon, Mummy.  This s a nice place, isn’t it?  Perhaps we can bring Rex too, next time.”
“Perhaps.  I think it’s Elizabeth’s turn now, Simon.  Perhaps,” she added, peering down at my pants with slightly raised eyebrows, “perhaps you should put your apron on again now.  Do you think?”
“Yes, yes, of course.  Yes.”
I clambered up awkwardly, quickly turning my back on Elizabeth, but unavoidably giving her mother a perfect view of my bulging pants, eliciting from her a little delighted gasp as her hand went involuntarily to her mouth in surprise.  I stumbled over to the cupboards where I had dumped the apron, and quickly secured it around my waist.  Mrs More-Burley climbed out of the chair and Elizabeth slipped in.  I was aware that even the apron might be insufficient to hide my embarrassment, so I slipped back into my kneeling place as quickly as I could, tucking myself in as much as possible.  Elizabeth was playing with the controls but her mother took over, lowering the chair as far as it would go, and then retracting the foot-rest.
“There, dear, you can put you foot in Simon’s lap for him to work on.  Here, like this.”
And without giving me a moment to react, she placed her daughter’s left boot squarely in my lap, squashing my poor swollen sausage against my tummy.
“Ah!” I exclaimed in surprise, grabbing the boot and lifting it quickly into my midriff, “Ah, yes, I’ll clean them like this.”  And for the second time that day my erection was rapidly aborted, much to the evident amusement of Mrs More-Burley.
“Are you cooling off a bit now, Simon?” she asked, innocently. “I hope you’re not sick.  I thought I noticed a little swelling just now.”
“Was he swelling, Mummy?  Really?”
“Well maybe in was my imagination.  Probably he was just a bit red.  But in any case, I know just how to deal with swellings.”
“Do you?  What do you do if you see someone swelling?”
She took a seat on the couch immediately to my left, and leaning forward, began to talk in quiet, even tones.
“Well, darling,” she said, as I distractedly wiped and brushed at the red boots, “you need to massage lots and lots of cold cream into the swollen parts, very, very gently of course, and very slowly.  If someone’s cheek is swollen, you massage round and round in little circles, like this.  Here, I’ll demonstrate on Simon.”
And she began to stroke my cheek with her finger tips in a circular motion, to which I reacted by instantly turning bright red again.
“Simon’s very red again,” said Elizabeth, looking at me anxiously.  “Do you think he’s swelling a bit too?”
“Hmm, he may be, dear.  Let me see if I have any cream here.”  I groaned.
“Are you feeling all right, Simon,” asked Elizabeth.  “Mummy, I think Simon may be feeling a bit ill.”
“I’ve found some cream.  Let’s put some on your poor hot little face.  Here, turn towards me a little.”  And she proceeded to massage cold cream softly into my cheeks, Elizabeth looking on with concern.  After a while she transferred her ministrations to my burning ears, fondling and pinching them gently until I felt myself swelling once again.  Helplessly, I let go of the boot, and it slid back into my lap, resting on my rapidly hardening erection.  Fortunately, Elizabeth’s boots had thick soles, and she was quite unaware of my engorged state.  Her mother continued to play with my ears, teasing me expertly nearer and nearer towards a climax.  Just by her delicate touching of my ears she had worked me into a state where my organ was throbbing with excitement, releasing a steady flow of warm juice into my slippery pants, and bringing me closer and closer to orgasm.  Now she relinquished my ears, began to demonstrate how to deal with a swollen finger, using mine as examples, first smeared with cream, then massaged with firm gentleness in a steady milking motion.  Elizabeth watched intently as her mother dealt with each finger in turn.  I was in a sort of trance, but all at once I realised that if this continued I was in danger of passing the point of no return, and if that happened I was sure I would not be able to suppress  or disguise my climax.  So I whispered urgently, “please, please, Mrs More-Burley, please, I really don’t feel well now.  If you do make another appointment, I swear I’ll do anything you want, but please let me go now, or, or…I’ll…!”
“Oh, of course, Simon,” she smiled.  “That really wouldn’t do, would it?  But I’m so gratified to see that you have such a romantic and imaginative spirit.”  And to her daughter, “Elizabeth, darling, I’m afraid we must go.”
“But Mummy, Simon hasn’t finished my boots!”
“I know, darling, but Simon is not feeling quite well.  We can come again, or perhaps we could book a home visit.  Would you ljke that?  You could show Simon all your dolls, and introduce him to Rex!”
“Of, yes, I would like that, of course, though I was really hoping…”
“I know, dear, but Simon really needs to rest.  Come on, we can go up to the café and have a nice drink and a piece of cake.  Would you like that?” 
She took Elizabeth’s hand, and led her towards the door.  I made as if to rise.  "No, no, better if you don’t get up, Simon.  We’ll see ourselves out.  We’ll see you soon.”   
“Bye bye Simon,” said Elizabeth, sadly.
“By bye,” said her mother.  She returned and kissed me good bye, and added as they left, “and please call me Edith.”
As soon as the door closed I collapsed on the floor.  After the multiple frustrations of the morning I desperately wanted to come, but I needed to clean up both myself and the room, and Miss Faversham was due at eleven thirty, so there was no time to relax.  I mopped the floor, then showered and slipped on some shorts and a shirt.  I made myself a coffee and tried to regain some of my composure.  I had no instructions about costume for the next session, and no idea what would happen next, but I was beginning to realise this job was going to be more difficult than I had imagined!

[Simonssister]

Chapter XVI:  Sadie and Clarissa (Part 1)

They arrived early.  Miss Faversham and a slightly younger lady, the first blonde and the second auburn, both immaculate in full showing gear.  I was so taken aback by their appearance that I actually stammered at them like an idiot.
“Oh, er, good m-morning, er, ladies, P-please come in, and, er, t-take a seat.”
They walked in, dutifully wiping their feet on the mat, and looked around.
“We have been here before, Simon, I should tell you,” said Miss Faversham.  Sue kindly showed us around the other day.  So we know the scene.”
“Oh, g-good,” I replied, conscious of being outmanoeuvred already, “I only saw the finished salon this morning.  I – I hope I can offer you a satisfactory...experience.”  It sounded weak and stilted, but I was at a loss, not really knowing what they wanted.
“You know me, Simon.  Sadie Faversham.  You will call me Miss Faversham, if you don’t mind.  I want you to understand our relationship from the outset.  I’m not your friend, but in effect your employer, and I expect obedience and respect.  This is my friend, Clarissa Mitchell.  Miss Mitchell.  You may have seen her.  She rides here occasionally.  She also rides for the county.  She is one of the best judges of horses, and of people, that I know.  You will behave towards her as you behave towards me.  Understood?”
“Yes, of course, Miss Faversham.”
“You may of course address us simply as “Miss” if that’s easier.  Now, we are here, as Sue may have told you, to assess your suitability to attend our friend’s hen party on Wednesday.  We need to make sure you can fulfil our expectations and we also need to decide on your costume.  Our friend, Harriet Sylvester, is turning thirty.  She is a professional, a lawyer, and works long hours during the week.  On Wednesday she has a rare day off to celebrate her birthday with her friends.  Our mission is to give her something we know she wants and for it to be a surprise.  Your role is to supply that something.”
“Oh.  I see.  Thank you for explaining.  What is it that she likes?”
“I’m coming to that.  There will be about a dozen friends at her party.  We have discussed what you will be required to do.  First, you will be required to wear a pretty dress.  Harriet likes boys, but she likes them feminised.  I understand you have no objection to that – not that it would matter if you did.  But I understand you have dressed as a girl before?”
“Yes, Miss.  I think - I feel – sometimes that I am a girl, not a boy.”
“Good.  That makes things simpler.  We have discussed your costume between us, and have reduced the possibilities to five.  We have obtained all five costumes, in your size, and our first task is to decide which one is most becoming.  Here.  You may view them on my phone.”  She pulled out her phone and flicked through a series of photos.
“Excuse me, Miss Faversham, but would it be possible for you to send me the photos?  I’d like to look at them myself.”
“I don’t see why not, do you, Clarissa?”   Clarissa, who was sitting on the couch, shook her head.  “What’s your number?  We should have it anyway, in case of any problems on Wednesday.”
I fetched my phone from the back room and she sent me the photos.  I’ll attach some here, and some to the next part.  I plucked up courage to ask a further favour.
“May I also have a photo of Miss Mitchell?  She is very beautiful, and also I have never seen such immaculate boots.  I could never presume to offer to clean such jewels, but I would love a photograph.”
Miss Mitchell smiled, obviously flattered by my remarks.  Help yourself, Simon, if it pleases you, “she said pleasantly.  “After all, I’m going to have plenty of pictures of you by the time the week is out.”
I took my photos.  It seemed to me that after that the atmosphere warmed a little.  Miss Faversham became less authoritarian and more friendly.
“Simon, I said Harriet likes boys.  She particularly likes handsome boys like you, and I know you’re going to enchant her.  You must go along with what we ask, and let her do what she wants.  I don’t want to go into greater detail than that at present, but I can assure you you should have no fear of any unpleasant experiences, only great pleasure and affection.  Will you take my word for that.”
“Of course, Miss Faversham.  But in any case, it is my function to serve.”
Miss Faversham looked at her friend approvingly.  Miss Mitchell nodded and smiled at me.
Miss Mitchell then when to the locked costume cupboard, and began to take out some colourful, gauzy clothes.  I looked at the pictures on my phone.  As I flicked through them I felt only elation and excitement.  This was a new adventure!

[Simonssister]

Chapter XVI:  Sadie and Clarissa (Part 2)

Soon Miss Mitchell had piled up a little heap of costumes on the couch.  She smiled at me.
“Now, Simon, would you like to go and change?  One at a time, please, and we’ll make a final choice.”
 I selected the bright pink ballerina costume and went into my bathroom.  I knew the ropes.  Before anything else I slipped into a little pair of fine pink rubber briefs, to keep my shape roughly feminine and also for purposes of hygiene.  I knew the costumers would all have attached knickers, and some, like this one, tights to be worn underneath.  It was a lovely feeling to pull on something so light and pretty and girlish.  All those feelings swept over me at once, a sense of purity and innocence and cleanness that were in some way opposed to my nature as a boy.  With that sense came renewed confusion, an ambiguity that was in part unsettling but in part also fed by tension, and therefore sexually stimulating.  But I emerged almost trembling with excitement.  The women made me parade, twirl, curtsey, and bow.  They took photographs, made notes, and conferred in undertones.  The same process was repeated with the other dresses.  By the time I had tried on all five, I was buzzing.
“Well, Simon?” asked Miss Faversham, “what do you think?  Any preference?”
“You’re going to think I’m silly.”
“No we won’t.  We liked all of them to some extent.  Tell us.”
“I liked the nurse costume best.  Not because it’s a nurse costume, but because I love the skirt and the socks.  The tulle in the skirt is so light and stiff, it just bounces as I walk, and my legs feel so free an airy.  That’s all.”
The women looked at each other and laughed.
“That was our choice too, Simon,” cried Miss Mitchell. “Well done!  We all have the best taste in clothes!”
“Also, Harriet is going to be ecstatic when she sees you in that,” added Miss Faversham.  “I wouldn’t be surprised if she needed immediate resuscitation!”
“It has little gloves, too, and a cap, and you should probably have some sheer tights to make your legs shine a little,” said Miss Mitchell.
“And there will be a small addition to the costume, but we won’t worry about that until the day.  No, Simon, don’t ask what it is.  You’ll find out soon enough.”  She paused.  “Well, now that’s settled, I think you’d better clean some boots.  Let me see, what should you wear?”
She went to the cupboards and began looking through the costumes.  “Oh, these are rather nice!”  She pulled out a little pair of lemon yellow frilled latex panties, with a front zip.  The zip, attached to a silver ring, was not of the usual sort, but was closed when the zip was in the crotch, and opened as it was drawn up.  The waistband was continuous, so the zip stopped just below it.  To go with them she found a matching spandex short-sleeved top with little pink hearts scattered over it, and a pair of yellow and pink hooped hold-up stockings.
“Go get dressed, little boy,” she ordered, pushing me towards the bathroom.

When I emerged she was in the chair, and Miss Mitchell was back on the couch.  They looked me up and down.
“So cute!” exclaimed Miss Faversham.  I squirmed with embarrassment.  The panties allowed little room for my boyhood to lie comfortably.  The high legs and tight crotch forced it into a more vertical position, next to the zip.  They kept me standing there for some time, watching me with enigmatic smiles on their faces.  I pulled up the stockings as far as they would go, shifting from one leg to the other.
“So this is the bad little boy who ruined my boots at the gymkhana?  He doesn’t look so dangerous now, does he?  Do you remember, Simon, you promised to wear your little rubber hotpants for me at your salon?  No?  Oh dear, you do have a short memory!  Never mind.  These super little panties will have to do, I suppose.  Clarissa, could I borrow your whip for a moment, please?  Thank you.  Now, Simon, I’m going to tap you very gently on the side of your buttock, and you’re not to move.  Understand?”
I nodded.
“Understand??”
“Yes, Miss.”
She began to tap me softly, then a little harder.  I think I whimpered a bit, not knowing what might be coming next.
“You will not make a sound!  Understand?”
“Yes, Miss.”
She continued. 
“Do you remember when I spanked you?”
“Yes, Miss.”
“I would have liked to whip you as well.  I would have liked to see you dance and scream, skip and cry, beg for mercy.  What do you think of that?”
“You spanked me hard, Miss.  It hurt a lot!”
“But it didn’t satisfy me.  I wanted to hurt you more for what you did, humiliating me like that.  But on Wednesday it is you who are going to be humiliated.  There is no escape.  You will have great sensual pleasure, but total humiliation.  And still I will want to whip you, until I am satisfied.  And I will, soon, I promise you.  Now…”
She drew the flap of the riding whip down the outside of my thigh, across the top of my stocking, and up my inner thigh.  She flicked it against my balls, which were compressed by the crotch of the rubber panties.  She stroked it gently back and forth.  I must have moved back slightly, still shifting from leg to leg.
“DON’T!”
I quickly resumed my former position.  Looking me straight in the eyes, she continued to toy with my balls, until I felt the inevitable swelling of my frustrated boyhood.  Steadily it grew and filled and lengthened, the head moving upwards towards my waistband.  She watched with satisfaction.  “Good boy,” she murmured, encouraging it with little smacks and digs from the tip of the whip, teasing it into full, hard erection.  I squirmed like a kid needing the toilet. 
“It’s gorgeous,” said Miss Mitchell, “Harriet’s going to be so happy.  I can’t wait to see her face.”
“How does it feel, Simon?” continued Miss Faversham.  “Is it very hard?  Is it?”
“Yes. Miss,” I moaned. “I had a bad morning.”
“Oh, really? Tell us all about it.”
And she made me relate the events of the morning, which they found so entertaining they couldn’t stop giggling for some minutes.
“And poor little Elizabeth never got her boots cleaned properly!  You selfish boy!  I might have to tell Sue about that.”
Oh, no, Miss, please don’t!  I’ll probably get into trouble.”
“Oh, Simon, I think you may already be in trouble.  Now, I want you to touch yourself – there, where I’m prodding – and tell me how hard it is.  Go on!  No prevaricating!”
Gingerly I moved my hand onto the front of my panties and felt myself.  I was hard and throbbing.  I wanted badly to release all my pent-up tension.
“Is it really very firm there?”
“Yes.”
“Feel the very tip and tell me what it’s like there.”
I moved my fingers up.  It was at bursting point.  If I had touched it in that sensitive place under the glans I would have come at once.
“Wouldn’t you like to be able to come, to let it all out?”
“Ye…yes.” I whispered.
“Speak up!”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Now, Simon, suppose I told you that Miss Mitchell here would like nothing better than for you to kneel at her feet, take out your poor overwrought little sausage, and come and come all over her wonderful shiny riding boots, to deluge them with your sperm, and massage it in with your hands  What would you say?”
“No, it’s not true!”
“Yes, Simon.  It’s perfectly true,” said Miss Mitchell with a smile.  “Fresh sperm is absolutely the best thing for polishing rubber riding boots.  As far as I am concerned, the only useful function of oversexed boys like you is to provide boot polish for accomplished riders like me.  So if you want to earn my respect, you’d better get on with it.”
“But…but it will spoil them!”
“Not at all.  They’ll end up twice as glossy as before, you’ll see.  You have a leather in your kit?”
“Yes.”
“Well get it quickly, smother my boots with all your lovely creamy polish, and leather it of while its warm.  Go on!” 
I looked at Miss Faversham for approval.
“Go, stupid!
I grabbed my leather from my cupboard, and slipped on a pair of rubber gloves, while Miss Mitchell transferred to the chair.  In a moment I was kneeling before her, those beautiful boots inches away. Miss Faversham sat on the couch and prepared to take a video.  Nothing mattered now except my duty.  I hooked one finger through the ring and pulled.  The zip travelled up smoothly, and my stiff sausage, gleaming with my juices, leapt from its confinement.  I took it firmly in my left hand and slid back the foreskin so I could aim the jets of hot sperm which immediately burst from its tip.  Almost fainting with ecstasy, and convulsed with the spasms of my climax, I maintained enough self-discipline to direct the spurts equally over each boot, spreading and massaging it into the rubber with my right hand as I did so.
“My goodness, so much!” I heard Miss Mitchell exclaim.  And indeed, I managed to cover almost every inch before I knelt gasping and exhausted before her.
“Quick, Simon, the leather!” Miss Faversham urged.  I set to work again, and as I leathered vigorously the rubber took on a deep healthy glow.  I worked till every little fleck of white cream had disappeared, then buffed the boots with a soft duster.  Miss Mitchell had been right.  They were even glossier than before.
“Thank you, Simon!  I’m going to appoint you my official boot boy from now on.  Do you accept?”
“Thank you, Miss, yes!  Yes, of course!” I gasped, totally drained but also totally at peace.
“You’d better get some rest, dear,” said Miss Faversham.  But remember, we’re coming for you Wednesday morning.  No more orgasms for the time being, please!”
But that was the last thing I wanted now.

[sissy servant 737-820-633]

Oh my Goddess! such a fantasy for me,, or is it a future reality?

[Simonssister]

Chapter XVII:  Party Time  (Part 1, Guests)

I hope you enjoyed that last entry, readers.  We certainly did!  And the tapes from the video cams which Sue dutifully copied for us.  I desperately wanted to see what went on at the hen party, so Sue had a little word with Sadie and, after consulting her friend Harriet, she generously offered to let me attend as an unofficial guest! I thought that might surprise my little brother, and it did!  But I got a few surprises of my own!  I’ll let Sim’s diary relate the whole story.

Wednesday 27 July.  It had been arranged that I should meet Miss Faversham at the school at nine thirty.  I was nearly there, just walking down the lane to the car park, when a familiar figure appeared at my side, puffing and blowing.
“Sim!  What yer doin’?  I haven’t seen you for ages!”
“Billy!  How are you?  What you doing here?”
“I’m fine.  I was on my way to the park, but then I saw you coming down here.  Are you working today?  I thought you only did weekends.”
“Well, sort of.  Only today I’ve been booked to go to a party.”
“Booked?  What do you mean?  I know you do all this weird boot cleaning stuff – Alice told me all about it – but what you gonna do at a party?”
“I dunno, Billy.  I just have to go.  I have no idea what I’m needed for.  That’s just how it is with this job.”
“But you make some cool dosh, I heard.  You’re lucky.  I only got two weeks’ work this summer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”  We were nearing the school now.  “Look, sorry mate, but I’ve got to go.  Can’t keep the customers waiting.”
“Can I come too?  I’d keep out of your way.”
“No, they wouldn’t allow that.  I’m really sorry, Billy.  Maybe we can get together later this week.”
“Nah, I’ve got jobs to do at home this week.  I won’t be allowed out again till they’re finished.”
He looked really disappointed, and I felt miserable I couldn’t spend the day with him, too.  We both stopped for a minute.
“Well, I’ll see you round, Billy.”
“Yeah, I s’pose.”
“Simon!  Are you coming?”  It was Miss Faversham, standing next to her car, waving at me.
“Gotta go.”
“Simon!  Who’s that boy with you?”
“Just a friend, Miss!” I called back.
“Bring him here.”
“Yeah?”
“Bring him here. Now!”
“C’mon Billy – she wants to meet you, I guess.”
We trotted over to Miss Faversham.  As usual she looked pretty cool and sexy – shiny black pants, high ankle boots, leather jacket.  She had had her blonde hair cut short and brushed back.  She wore black-rimmed glasses, which I hadn’t realised she needed.  She noticed me looking at them.
“I usually wear contacts, Simon.  But this is easier some mornings.”  She turned to Billy.   “Introduce me to your friend,” she purred, fixing him with a voracious stare.
“This is my best friend Billy, Miss.  Billy – Miss Faversham.”
“Pleased to meet you, miss,” said Billy, wide-eyed, shaking hands.
“And you, darling.”
“Billy was just asking if he could come to the party, and I was explaining it’s a private party, and…”
“Of course he can come!  He’s your best friend, Simon.”  She let go of Billy’s hand.  “Please join us, Billy.  It would be lovely to, er, have you along!”
“Oh,” I said, surprised, “I didn’t think he’d be allowed.  And, Miss, I mean, you know, I don’t know what my… what my duties will be, sort of thing…”
“I think we can make an exception for you, Billy.  Hop in and let’s get going.”
We climbed into Miss Faversham’s black car, and were soon on our way.  I was doubtful about the turn events had taken.  But Miss Faversham clearly had a plan.
“Billy, you know this is fancy dress, don’t you?”
“No?”
“Yes.  You boys will have to wear costumes.  I think we have a spare one for you.”
“Oh, okay.  Sounds like fun!”
“Oh, it will be.  It’s a hen party.”
“Hen party?  Will I have to dress up as a chicken?”
“Billy, you idiot!” I yelled, when I had stopped laughing.  “A hen party is a party just for ladies!  No men – except us, that is.”
“Oh.”  He thought for a minute.  “Are the ladies going to be in fancy dress too?”
“Oh, yes, Billy,” said Miss Faversham.  “I’m going to be a vampire, my friend Clarissa is going to be a prostitute – oh, a very tasteful prostitute, of course - and my friend Harriet will be dressed as Catwoman.”  I felt my heart miss a beat at that name.  “Yes, Simon,” she added, looking over her shoulder at me, “I hear she’s bought herself a lovely black rubber catsuit especially.  She doesn’t fancy the mask, though – she reckons it’ll catch on her hair.  But she’s asked to borrow my riding whip to substitute for a bullwhip.  So I wouldn’t get to close if I were you – not that you’ll be able to avoid it.”
I felt the blood rush to my face.  “Really,” I said, as nonchalantly as I could, “that should be fun.  What does she look like?”
“You’ll see.  She looks pretty normal, but be careful – she’s a bit wild, that one!”
“We should have brought her a present.”
“Oh, we have, silly.  You’re the present!”  And she burst into peals of laughter.
“What does she mean, Sim?” whispered Billy.
“I dunno exactly, but it doesn’t sound good.  If I were you I’d keep a low profile.”
“Oh, and your sister’s going to be there.”
“My sister?  Why?”
“She wanted to come, according to Sue, I think to make sure you didn’t get into mischief.  So I thought it wouldn’t do any harm.  Do you mind?”
“I suppose not.”
“She is on the committee, you know.  I guess she has a right to check on the employees.”
“Really?  She’s on the committee?  I never knew that.  Who else?”
“Whoops, I probably shouldn’t have told you.  I think the committee likes to keep the identity of its members secret.  I don’t know who else there is, apart from Sue.”
I mused on this piece of information as we went along.  I suspected several people.  My aunt, of course.  Mary.  Maybe even Jane.  Mrs Willoughby?  Speculation was pointless. 

We seemed to have been driving for ages.  We were right out of town now, on a winding country lane.  At last the car turned off down a narrow track, and we could see we were approaching a biggish house of red brick with a big front door at the top of a flight of stone steps. 
“This is it, boys.” 
The track turned into a gravelled driveway, and we parked next to a row of other cars.  Two girls were sitting on the steps, laughing and smoking cigarettes.  I noticed that they had wine glasses, and a bottle next to them.  It was only about half past ten.
“Yes, Simon, the girls like to make an early start when there’s serious celebrating to do.  You guys can have a drink later.”
“My mum won’t let me drink yet,” said Billy, glumly.
“Well you’re old enough, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, actually I’m older than Sim by five days!” he grinned.
“Well you can drink here, as long as you don’t overdo it.  I’m sure Stella will keep an eye on you both.  Come on, let’s go meet the gang!”

Miss Faversham said hello to the girls on the steps as we passed.  I think they were Kathy and Trish.  They smiled at us as we passed between them and one of them winked.  She led us down a shady corridor to a bright room as the back of the house, a big room with lots of armchairs and a couple of tables and a huge classical marble fireplace with vases on the mantlepiece and columns either side decorated with big gold rings like doorknockers and a polished parquet floor.  As we walked in we were greeted by a chorus of squeals, whoops and whistles.  Some of the women were already in costume, others not.  Everyone seemed to have a glass in their hands.
“Yay!  The floor show!” someone shouted, and there was a lot of laughing and giggling.  Billy looked at me nervously, but I put on the bravest face I could.  I had a feeling that the worst thing we could do was to look intimidated.
“Where’s the woman of the moment?” asked Miss Faversham.
“In the kitchen, Sadie.  Clarissa’s helping her do up her catsuit.”
“Come on boys, this way.”  We followed Miss Faversham as she weaved through the guests and entered the kitchen, which was almost as big as the living room.  There was Miss Mitchell.  My eyes must have almost popped out.  She had already put on her costume.  From the top, frizzed hair partially dyed red; a lot of bright red lipstick and mascara; a studded leather choker; a translucent black blouse, under which a black bra with open cups, so that her nipples strained against the blouse; a leather skirt not quite long enough to conceal her red latex panties, which were fitted with suspenders, supporting black fishnet stockings; high-heeled ankle boots which came half way up her calves, and which were secured with a row of three buckles; and black leather fingerless gloves which immediately reminded me of Sandra.  Standing next to her was a blonde woman in a very tight black rubber catsuit and black rubber gloves, also in ankle boots.  They both turned as we entered, and simultaneously their faces broke into broad grins.
“Sadie, darling!” said the woman in the catsuit.  “What have you brought us, you bad girl?”
“Happy birthday, Harriet,” smiled Miss Faversham, “allow me to introduce Simon, and his best friend Billy.”  She pushed us forward for inspection.  “Simon was supposed to be your birthday present, but I managed to pick up the other one on the way.  So double happy birthday!”
“Oh, you’re so clever, my love!  Darlings, come here!”  She embraced each of us separately and then together, pressing our faces against her firm, rubber-encased breasts.  I thought I was going to faint, and Billy had already turned bright red.
“H-happy birthday, miss!” I said, “So nice to meet you!”  Then I turned to Miss Mitchell.
“H-hello, Miss Michell,” I stammered, desperately and unsuccessfully trying to normalise the situation.  “I hope you are well.  Your costume is very nice.”
There was a momentary silence, then all three women doubled up with laughter.
“’Nice’ is a very sweet way of putting it, Simon,” said Harriet, still laughing.  “Don’t be shy, boys, we’ll make sure you have a nice time.  I’m sure you’re both hungry.  Sit down and we’ll get you some pastries and drinks – no, I mean juice or coffee, no what those sluts next door are swigging!”
“Yes, relax,” said Miss Mitchell, “the party won’t get going for a while yet.  We’ve got all day – and all night if we please.  Have something to eat and drink, have a look around, and then we’ll organise your costumes.”
“Yes,” said Miss Faversham, “Simon’s is all ready, and we’ll find something appropriate for you, Billy.  I think maybe the polka dots, Clarissa, don’t you?”
“Perfect.  They’ll go with his lovely curly black hair.”
Billy looked at me questioningly.  I avoided his gaze, and beckoned him over to the kitchen counter where Miss Mitchell was unpacking a variety of delicious looking pastries from a big box.  Harriet produced a selection of drinks from the fridge.
“Why don’t you boys go into the garden and eat?  Go say high to Henry.  I think he’s up the top there.”  She threw open the back door.  The “garden” was in reality a huge field.  At the far end we could see a bay horse quietly grazing.  Harriet put all the eatables on a tray, and added a carrot and an apple.
“Here, give Henry some breakfast too.  He’ll love you for ever.”  She handed me the tray, and we trooped outside and headed for Henry.
“Wow, Sim, this is some place!”
“Yeah.  It’s crazy.”
“What was that stuff about polkadots?”
“Dunno, Billy.  Look!  Henry’s coming to meet us!”
And he did.  He was more interested in the cakes than the vegetables, so we gave him a little treat too.  There was enough for four people, anyway.  After we had finished eating we lay in the sun, listening to Henry munching the grass.
“Those ladies are pretty…hot!” observed Billy.
“Hotter than you know, Billy.” I replied.
“And there’s a lot of them.”
“More than we can deal with.  You’ll just have to go along with things.  Don’t try to fight them.”
“Why would I want to fight them?  I think they’re nice.”
I sighed.  Poor sap.  But there was nothing I could do now.

“Simon!  Billy!  Time to get changed, boys!”  It was Miss Faversham calling from the back door.  We picked up the tray and headed back.  The kitchen was empty, so I dumped the tray and bottles on the counter and we headed back into the living-room, where we could hear a hubbub of voices.  We entered hesitantly, and stopped in our tracks.  All the girls were now in fancy dress.  Miss Faversham looked seriously threatening as a vampire, but there was plenty of variety.  A maid with frothy knickers peeping out from under a starched skirt, and her nipples visible over the top of her apron; a pirate in the highest thigh boots I’d ever seen, wearing a huge hat adorned with a blue feather; a black pussy cat in a velvet suit with a cat mask with ears; a ‘boy scout’ in full uniform with the tiniest little pair of zipped khaki spandex shorts,  stretched over a sausage-shaped bulge lying upwards from the crotch; and so on.  Batgirl was there, all in purple spandex, along with Catwoman.  And talking to Miss Faversham I saw my sister, in full show gear.  I suppose, if she didn’t have a costume ready, that was quite a good substitute.  She certainly seemed to fit in with the atmosphere of the party.  Miss Mitchell saw us, and quickly conducted us in, introducing us to the guests.  I really could not remember which was which.  There was Janice and Tracey and Natalie and Vera and Trish and Rana and Betony and Jen and Ellen.  We were introduced to the pirate.  That was Jen.  I was having trouble breathing freely.
“You’re Simon, then?  I’ve heard about you.  You’re a professional boot boy, is that right?”
“Er, yes, Jen, I guess I am.”
“Would you like to polish my boots later, Simon?”
“Of course, if you wish.” I replied, subserviently.
“I know they’re rather long,” she said, lifting the hem of her tiny leather skirt to show that they actually reached her crotch, and to reveal a pair of tight black kid leather panties fitted with a ring-pull silver zip that disappeared between her legs, “but after you get to the top you could just keep going, if you like.”  She smiled sweetly. “By the middle of the afternoon I don’t suppose I’ll be in a fit state to object if you overstep the mark a little.”
“You’d better not overstep the mark with me, young man,” interrupted Harriet, “or you’ll feel a taste of my whip!”  She was now flourishing a dressage whip, making it whistle in the air.
She laughed.  “That boy’s already had a taste of it, haven’t you sonny?”
The boy scout, who I learnt was called Betony, stepped forward.
“Yes, it’s true.  All I did was brush up against her with my thing, and she gave me a crack over the bum!  Are you two in the scouts?”
“As a matter of fact, we are,” I said, “we’re Explorers.”
“Really?  Do you hear that, girls?” she shouted, almost spilling her wine in her excitement, “These two are Explorer Scouts!  Shall we let them do some exploring today?”  Everyone laughed and shouted.  They were all half tipsy already.
“Sadie!” said Harriet, “Why aren’t they wearing their Scout uniforms?  That would have been such fun!”
“Good idea, darling.  Next time.  But they’ve got something just as nice to put on today, you’ll see!”  A chorus of oohs, and aahs, and “get them dressed, then!”
Betony noticed Billy staring at the bulge in her shorts.  “Would you like to see my thing?”
And without waiting for a reply, she unzipped the taut spandex and pulled out a gleaming black vinyl dil-do, anatomically perfect and apparently firmly attached to her person.  We goggled at it in disbelief.  Billy actually gripped my arm in fright.  She grinned.  “If you’re good boys I’ll let you play with it later.”
“If you’re bad boys you may find it playing with you, so be careful!” remarked Miss Mitchell.  “Come on, boys, you should have had your costumes on ages ago.  Follow me.”
She led us upstairs to a bedroom.  “Simon – and you Billy – you can call me Clarissa and Miss Faversham Sadie today.  Just today, mind.  Because it’s a special day and we’re all amongst friends.  Now come in here and let me show you what we have for you.”
And we followed her anxiously into the scented, thickly-carpeted bedroom.

[krystalasbaby2017]

I just finished re reading everything up to now.  Looks like the 2 boys are in for something they are not expecting.  Wondering what their costumes are and how the take the whole experience.

[Simonssister]

Chapter XVII  Party Time (Part 2, Girlfriends)

We stood awkwardly by the bed while Clarissa – I can call her that now – went to the wardrobe.  She opened the door and rummaged inside for a while before bringing out - something I hadn’t expected.  A mauve T-shirt?
“Oh, Simon, before we dress you, I’ve got you a little present to commemorate our session last Saturday. I do hope you like it, and that you’ll wear it for us sometimes.”
“Oh, thanks.  A new T-shirt.”
“I reached out for it, but she held it back.”
“Do you know the Gummi Bears?”
“Course.”
“Well then you’ll understand the allusion.  You’re my little bear.”  And she turned it round so I could see the front.  I won’t say any more, but I’ve attached a photo of it to the next page.  “Keep it in your salon, will you?”
Billy looked at me enquiringly, but I ignored him.  With a wink, she brought out the thing I had been expecting - my little nurse’s costume. 
“Simon.  Here we are.”  She laid it on the bed.”  Go on.  You can change in the en suite if you like.  It’s that door on the left.  Call me when you’re ready and I’ll bring in the accessories.”
“Yes, Clarissa.” I replied, picking up the dress and heading for the door.
All the while Billy had been looking at me aghast, or rather, looking from me to the dress and back again to me.  His mouth was open but he hadn’t managed to get a word out.  At last he spoke to Clarissa.
“Is he really going to wear that?”
“Of course.  And you’re going to wear this.”  And she held up the pretty polkadot dress I had tried on a few days ago.
“What?  No way!”
“Are you refusing?”
“You bet I am!  And I’m leaving!”
I stopped in my tracks, and turned around to see what would happen.  Billy headed for the bedroom door.  He had taken two paces when Clarissa grabbed him by the collar and pulled him backwards onto the bed.  She held him down and climbed astride him.
“You are not leaving, sonny, and you are putting on this dress.” She said, calmly.
“I’m not!  You’re crazy!  I’m gonna call my mum!” he shouted, struggling to extract his phone from his jeans pocket.
“You’re not calling anyone,” said Clarissa, wrenching the phone out of his hand.  “You’re going to do as you’re told.  You wanted to come to this party, and now you’re going to abide by its rules.”
“Problems?” asked Sadie, strolling into the room.
“Only one.”
“Leave him to me. I’ve borrowed my whip back from Harriet for a minute.  Can you turn him over?”
“No problem.”  Clarissa bodily threw him over on his front, and sat on him again, facing his legs.  Muffled protests emanated from behind her.  She used her legs to immobilise his arms, while Sadie grabbed his thrashing ankles.
“Simon,” she called, “before you disappear, could you hand me some cord?  You’ll find it in the right-hand drawer of the dressing table.  I obeyed.  There was indeed a coil of soft rope, and a few other rather interesting items too.  I tossed her the cord.  In a moment she had wrapped it around Billy’s ankles, and then tethered them to one of the bed legs.  Having secured him to her satisfaction, she coolly pulled down his jeans and underpants in one swift movement.  She stood back a little and raised the dressage whip.  I watched, fearful for Billy but fascinated all the same.  Clarissa sat back, pulling up Billy’s shirt at the same time so that his bare bottom was fully exposed.  Neither of them spoke.  Using the whole length of the whip, Sadie administered three hard strokes, a few seconds apart.  Billy’s buttocks clenched under the onslaught, and I could actually see a red weal appear a moment after each blow connected.  Poor Billy didn’t scream, as I was expecting, but made a sort of choking, gasping sound, his body jerking spasmodically in time.  Only after several seconds did he begin to weep loudly.  Sadie showed no emotion. 
“Now, Billy, I want a straight answer.  Are you going to obey us, or do you need another three strokes?”
For some moments he was unable to answer, and Sadie sighed, “Oh, dear.  Well if that’s what you want…”
“No-o, p-please miss, please, no!” cried Billy.  “I’ll do what I’m told, I p-promise!”
“Are you sure, Billy?”
“Yes, m-miss, quite sure.  Quite sure.  I’ll wear the d-dress.  I swear!”
Billy was no coward, but those three quick strokes had been enough to subdue him utterly. His rebelliousness had been tamed in a moment.  In a way I wasn’t surprised. The pain that can be inflicted by even a single stroke of such a long, thin whip shaft, when applied by an expert like Sadie, is difficult to comprehend unless you’ve experienced it yourself.   But not only that.  The demonstration of the girls’ utter ruthlessness was chilling, a clear warning they would stop at nothing to impose their will.  I was immediately disabused of any sentimental feelings I may have harboured for them.  It was a lesson for me as well which I would not forget.
Clarissa dismounted and allowed Billy to prise himself gingerly off the bed.  At that moment Batgirl appeared at the door, apparently having heard the noise from the adjacent toilet.  Billy was standing on one leg next to the next, whimpering quietly, not daring to touch his stinging posterior.  When Batgirl saw him, and the three thin weals, she immediately hurried over and took him in her arms.  She laid him back on the bed, face down, and looking from Sadie to Clarissa, demanded, “cold cream?  Where is it?  C’mon, where is it?”
Sadie indicated the dressing table with a dismissive wave of her hand.  Batgirl went over, opened the middle drawer, and returned with a blue pot.  Seating herself next to Billy, she began gently to apply the cream, whispering comforting words in Billy’s ear.  Even the careful application of the cold cream stung him, and he sobbed, quietly. 
“Hurry up, Kathy, it’s time to get him dressed,” was all that Sadie could say.  Batgirl Kathy, whom I remembered had winked at us when we arrived, mouthed something not very complimentary at Sadie, patted Billy on the head, and left the room.  Clarissa lifted him off the bed, pressed the polkadot dress into his arms, and propelled him towards me.
“Now go get changed.  Both of you.”
Inside the bathroom, which was spacious to say the least, I commiserated with Billy.
“Are you all right?  That was terrible!”
“I’ve never felt anything like that before, Sim.  She’s cruel!”
“Yeah, she is.  I’m sorry you came with me.  I know what to expect – especially now!”
“We better get into these things.”
“Okay.  Let’s do it.”
We pulled on the costumes, with their attached panties.  But imagine our surprise to discover that the front of the crotch on both costumes had been neatly altered, so that now there was round aperture hemmed with elastic in the most vital place!
“What the heck?” I exclaimed.  But before either us could make any further observations, Sadie called from outside.
“Got them on?”
“Y-yes,” I replied uncertainly.
“Right.  I’m coming in.”
We both instinctively covered ourselves.  Sadie pushed open the door and strode in.  She was wearing black rubber gloves and carrying something.
“Right.  You first, Simon.  Stand here.”
I stood where she had indicated, still protecting my interests.  She dropped some rubber things on the floor next to me, and then took up one of them.
“These first, please.  Hold up your skirts.”
I dutifully stepped into what appeared to be a pair of fine pastel blue latex briefs, though the layers of crisp tulle rather impeded my view, and she pulled them up over the panties of the nurse’s costume. 
“Blue because you’re a boy.”  She remarked.
But I could feel something loose at the front, and, flattening my skirts against my chest, I saw there was a fine, translucent latex sheath attached to the front of them.  Where it was attached to the briefs, there was a ring of thicker latex apparently designed to fit firmly behind my balls.
“Right.  Now I’m going to stretch out the hole and I want you to put your thing into the sheath, please.”  And she reached inside the briefs and stretched the aperture open with her fingers.  Remembering what had just happened to Billy I kept my mouth shut and did as I was told, feeding my member into the sheath.
“Right in, please.  Those as well,” she added.  So through went everything, after which she released the bottom of the sheath, which snapped firmly into place, gripping the base of my member.  I looked down.  The sheath had a special little sac below the basal ring which held my balls compact.  It comfortably accommodated my flaccid member, which came perhaps two-thirds of the way along its length.  Its end was open, but it tapered to a narrow sphincter, just like the neck of a party balloon.  I looked at her questioningly.
“This way your dress knickers will stay clean, Simon.  The sheath is open to allow you to go to the toilet when you please.  But be warned, it is also designed to keep you firmly under control.  There is a little flexibility, but full erection is impossible.  We can't have sweet little girls in fancy dresses walking about with their panties bulging, can we?"
She then picked up a pair of pink latex panties, trimmed with pink lace, and with a short ring-pull zip at the front so that, Sadie explained, I could use the toilet without removing them. 
“Pink because you’re also a girl,” she smiled.
These she slid on over the blue ones.  The pink latex was thicker felt quite strong, so that it flattened my sheathed boyhood firmly against my tummy, making it relatively inconspicuous.  This done, she directed me back into the bedroom where Clarissa was ready to help me with my cute little shoes and socks, my little white gloves, and my nurse’s headband.  They had even got me a little red first-aid case to carry around!  Meanwhile Billy was getting the same treatment, and emerged a few minutes later to have his outfit completed with a red hair-ribbon, matching the heart on his frilly sewn-on apron, white ankle socks, and blue trainers.  I almost felt jealous, he looked so cute!
Sadie checked our costumes, making us turn around and around till she was happy everything was correct.
“You look lovely, boys.  Time to make your appearance!”
My heart was fluttering as we were led downstairs to the living-room.  As we approached the door I could see the table was laid for a buffet lunch, but I had no appetite any more.  The hubbub of voices was now louder, and punctuated with loud exclamations and bursts of hysterical laughter.  I guessed the wine had been flowing freely whilst we had been upstairs.  Sadie gestured us to wait while she went ahead.  I saw her beckon Stella over to the door.  She said something to her, and she disappeared for a moment, then  reappeared with her camera hung around her neck and a video camera in her hand.  She retreated to the far side of the room and prepared to film.  I had noticed that Sadie and my sister seemed quite close.  I know they used to ride together.  I suspected a conspiracy of some sort.  But now I had other things on my mind.  Having got the photographer in place, Sadie ushered us into the room.  Apart from Harriet and the pirate, who were engaged in a loud argument, the rest of the room was momentarily stunned into silence.  Then uproar.  Whistles, squeals, shouts of “Oh my god, look at them!”  “They’re so cute!”  Harriet and Jen broke off their conversation and stared.  Then they too joined in the clamour.  Then we were mobbed, and engulfed in a cloud of perfume and alcoholic breath.
“Now, now, ladies!” called Sadie, “Please.  These pretty boys are Harriet’s birthday present.  Please allow her to unwrap – I mean, examine – her gifts.  Harriet!”
The women fell back a little, and Harriet approached, her catsuit squeaking and rustling, wonderment on her face.
“Happy birthday, darling!” said Sadie.
“Oh, my dear!  This is more than I could ever have even dreamed of!  Two of them!  And they’re so…so…delicious!”
“Well, you can taste them any time you like, darling!” winked Clarissa, to general mirth, “I think you’ll need to blow their candles out before the party’s over!”  (“Oooh, naughty”, from the pussy cat.) 
“They look scrumptious, all right,” said the maid, but they need a bit of make-up, don’t you think?  Shall I oblige?”
“Yeah, go on, Janice.  You’re the expert.”
And so it was that we found ourselves on the sofa, me first and then Billy, having foundation, mascara, eye shadow, a little rouge, and lip gloss (Billy red, me pink),  applied to our burning faces, while Janice explained that she worked in a beauty salon frequented by Harriet.  She made us up with commendable restraint, so as not to spoil our girlish looks.  The softness of her touch on my face, not to mention her bare thigh pressed against mine, and the sight of her pink nipples peeping over the top of her dress, soon began to have the inevitable effect.  But to my chagrin, the anticipation of pleasure quickly gave way to the realisation of pain!  Whilst the base ring of the sheath caused my boyhood to swell with unwonted vigour, the sheath itself and the tight panties prevented it attaining its desired proportions, causing me considerable distress.  As I fidgeted uncomfortably in my seat, I noticed Sadie observing me with a malicious smile on her face, and I realised that my unhappy state was probably not entirely accidental!  In my frustration, I considered running off to the toilet to allow my member a moment’s relief.  But I restrained myself when I considered that if, in its present state, I once released it from its confinement, I would probably be unable to get it back again!  Instead I had to bite my lip and pinch my thigh in an effort to control my arousal.

When Janice had finished, we were paraded in front of the company to universal admiration.
“Oh my god,” said a schoolgirl in an impossibly short pleated skirt, who I think was Vera, they really are, to all intents and purposes, girls!  They don’t look like boys at all!”
“Yes, it’s true,” added a girl dressed all in tight cycling gear.  (This was Ellen, who actually wore this stuff to go cycling, and it was as sexy as any costume there!)  “We could take them out and no-one would bat an eyelid.”
“I wouldn’t say that!” put in a little hotel page-boy, (Trish), “I’ve never seen teenage girls dressed like that.  It’s normally old jeans and T-shirts.  Can you imagine the attention they’d attract on the streets?”
“Yeah, we should do it sometime, girls,” suggested a tall dark girl dressed up as a ring mistress, in a black body, fishnet tights, cowboy boots and a short red tunic. This was Rana.
“Could we, Sadie?  Could we have them dressed up another time?”
“Of course, girls,” Sadie replied, confidently.  “They are our playthings, and we can do as we wish with them.”  She said this in such a matter-of-fact way that I knew she was perfectly serious.
“I’m gonna get some piccies!” exclaimed Jen the pirate.
“Why not wait till after lunch, dear,” said Sadie.  “We’ll have them pose for you then.  In any case, Stella’s recording everything and she’ll edit it afterwards and you’ll each get a copy.”  And she smirked at us arrogantly.

It was a relief to have attention diverted for a moment away from us.  Whilst everyone else sat at the table, we were ordered to stand so that we didn’t spoil our dresses, and to wait upon the rest.  Sadie had us running back and forth with plates of food and bottles of champagne, topping up every empty glass – of which there were many.  The guests were getting more and more tipsy and playful, so that we were continually trying to fend off groping hands and mischievous fingers.  Our little bouncy skirts – especially mine – merely encouraged them, while providing no defence at all.  At one point I brought in some sort of big cold sausage all tied up with twine.  Sadie prodded it gingerly with her fork and looked at me.
“This reminds me of something I saw earlier, Simon.  Do you remember?  In the bedroom!”
Of course, they all thought that was hilarious, and there followed a whole slew of dirty jokes.  Honestly, women are so annoying, sometimes.  But in general, Sadie and Clarissa kept apart from the others, and I also noticed that they drank very little, just taking an occasional sip, as if they had important business in hand for which they needed to remain sober.  The others were the opposite.  On one occasion, while I was refilling her glass, Jen the pirate caught me round the waist with her left arm and held me tight, while beginning to fondle the constricted bulge in my panties with the other, making some stupid remark about “taking me as her cabin-girl”!  I had to spill some champagne down her cleavage to escape.

Though the women seemed to have an infinite capacity for alcohol, things were definitely getting wilder now.  As I went to the kitchen for another bottle, I saw Harriet grab Billy and pull him onto her lap.  When I returned, she was feeding him champagne from her glass, with all the company shouting encouragement.  Jen, persistent in her attention towards me, soon pulled me onto her booted legs and followed suit.  It was impossible to resist the collective will of a dozen boisterous women, and in any case I think we both needed something to alleviate our nervousness.  It certainly did the trick.  I hadn’t really drunk champagne much before.  I think I’d had a couple of glasses on Stella’s and Sandra’s birthdays, but otherwise it had mainly been beer.  I downed a glassful and Janice quickly refilled my glass.  It was nice, and I started to feel warm and friendly towards everyone, as well as a little dizzy.  I put my arm around Jen and buried my face in her neck, inhaling her scent like a drug.  She giggled and squirmed as my breath tickled her skin.  I felt her hand alight on my upper thigh, and I didn’t care, despite the uncomfortable swelling of my boyhood.  I wondered whether she might unzip my panties - and I wouldn’t have attempted to stop her if she had - but she contented herself with stroking and teasing.  I remember someone else wanting to cuddle me, and then being passed from one to the other in a confused whirl of warmth, scent, groping and cuddles.  I was intoxicated in every sense.  Out of half-closed eyes I saw Billy with his face inside Clarissa’s blouse, apparently fastened to her right breast, whilst she gently stroked his hair!  That sight woke me up a little.  In my confused state I smiled to myself, having already forgotten what she and Sadie had so recently done to my friend.  And clearly Billy had forgotten it too!  I noticed Stella, still filming, whilst Sadie whispered in her ear, glancing all the while from Billy to me and back again.  Even in my dazed state I vaguely perceived that Sadie was somehow orchestrating the whole day.  I wondered hazily what might happen next.  I soon found out.

Everyone had now eaten, and was sitting back sipping their drinks and chatting.  Sadie rose to speak.
“Right, girls!” she called, clapping her hands.  “Time for the boys’ photo session, I think.  Boys?  Over here, please, by the fireplace.  Girls?  Would you like to take your seats in the comfy chairs, and by all means have your phones ready.”
There was a general movement from the table to the sofas and armchairs, accompanied by lots of giggling and falling about.  Clarissa detached herself from Billy and pushed him towards the hearthrug.  I made my way circuitously towards him.  We hung onto each other a little unsteadily.  Billy couldn’t stop giggling.
“This is a great party, Sim.  Thanks for bringing me!”
“Are you drunk, Billy?”
“No, I ain’t.  I’m slober!”
“Slober?”
“Ha ha ha, you know what I mean!  I’m stoned cold sober!”
“Stoned is right.”
“Now boys, please don’t be silly!  Could you just pose for the girls, nicely now?”
“Better do it,” I whispered.  “Don’t want a repeat of … you know.”
“Please hold hands and smile for the cameras.”
I was a little reluctant, but Billy took my hand at once, and smile what he obviously considered his sweetest smile.  I followed suit.  I knew we looked idiotic, but I also was too far gone to care.
“Prove you’re really girls!” shouted Clarissa.  “Give us a curtsey!”
Our attempts at curtseying had everyone falling about.  But we liked the attention so much we continued to play the fool.
“If you’re really girls, show us your panties!” shouted Harriet.
And soon we were flashing our little pink lacy panties to the delight of the company, even turning our backs on them, touching our knees, and wiggling our shiny rubber-encased bottoms!  Sadie and Clarissa were standing to one side, a little apart from the others.
“What little show-offs!” said Sadie.  “That Billy pretends to be so grown-up, but she’s just a little girl!”
“Yes,” replied Clarissa, “I don’t suppose she’s ever kissed a boy in her life!”
“Have!” shouted Billy.
“Never!” returned Clarissa.
“I have!” he shouted louder.
“Prove it!” put in Sadie.
“How?”
“Kiss Simon!  He’s a boy!”
“Yes!” cheered the girls.  “Kiss him!” and they started chanting, “Kiss him!  Kiss him!  Kiss him!”
“Okay!” said Billy, defiantly.  And he leant towards me and gave me a peck on the cheek.
“That’s not a kiss!” exclaimed Clarissa, “See?  I told you so.”
“Kiss him on the lips, Billy,” said Sadie. “Go on – show her!”
“All right.  I will.”
I didn’t draw back.  I wanted him to kiss me, to tell the truth.  The champagne had stripped us of our inhibitions.  For my part I wanted to see what it was like to kiss – and to be kissed by – a boy.  And my best friend Billy was the ideal one to do it with.
He put his hands on my shoulders, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to mine.  They were soft and warm, but also smooth with lip gloss.  I wondered how long he would keep them there.  I was almost swooning with pleasure.  As he didn’t draw back, I put my hands on his waist and reciprocated the pressure, closing my own eyes at the same time.  Our skirts crushed together.  Our lips began to adhere.  I wondered how far he would go.  The girls were whistling and whooping.  He persisted.  At last I took the plunge.  I opened my mouth and pushed the very tip of my tongue inside his.  I could hear gasps and oohs from the audience, and I felt Billy stiffen for a second.  Would he break away in disgust?  I held my breath.  And then, to my infinite delight, I felt the tip of his tongue touch mine.  Instantly we pulled each other close, pressing our bodies together passionately, and thrust our tongues as deep as we could into each other’s mouths, desperately, hungrily, like long-separated lovers!