The Tribulations of Paul Hawkins

[Sissieann]

I love it more please its brilliant???

[Simonssister]

Chapter 8.  Dolly Bird.

Cynthia was out early in the morning.  The “present” she had in mind could not be bought in her little village.  She needed to drive twenty miles to a specialist shop – ‘Due Restraint’ it was called – on the outskirts of Eshingford, the nearest main town.  She was becoming known there, and was getting quite friendly with the proprietor, one Georgina Tarrington.  Georgina was a vivacious forty-year-old divorcee.  She had opened the shop as an outlet for her own feelings a couple of years before, and had been amazed at the response.  She greeted Cynthia effusively, with a hug and a kiss.
“Darling!  How are you?  You look radiant.  If I didn’t know better, I would say you’ve got something going on….”
“Georgina.  You’re absolutely right.  I’ll tell you some other time, when I know precisely what it is!”
“Well, don’t forget.  Now…to what do I owe the pleasure…?”

She was home by lunchtime.  Nothing was said about where she’d been, but Paul could guess.  He noticed, to his trepidation, that she had a satisfied expression on her face and a twinkle in her eye.  After lunch she went into the garden, right to the far end by the apple tree, and had a long phone conversation, returning in a very good mood.

Sunday came, and Paul had quite forgotten about the present he had been promised, though he could sense there was something in the air.  After lunch, Cynthia suddenly made an announcement.
“This afternoon you’ll be in your chair, darling.  I’ll probably have a nap, and I don’t want you mauling at me.  Okay?”
He knew this was not a question, so he refrained from offering an answer.  His “chair” had been one of Cynthia’s brainwaves.  She had found it in some second-hand shop, a tubular steel artefact from the fifties.  The thing that had interested her was the decoration of little rings welded to parts of the frame, inside the curves of the arm-rests and the cross-bars on the legs.  She had seen at once its possibilities as a bondage chair, and had snapped it up and brought it home.  She had installed in against one wall in the bedroom, facing the side of the bed, which was against the opposite wall.  She had bolted it to the floorboards so there was no chance of its occupant moving it around, and screwed a ring plate to the wall above the back so that she could attach his collar to it.  The chair had been an invaluable aid to teasing her husband.  Once his wrist and ankle cuffs had been linked to convenient rings, he was obliged to sit and witness, with growing frustration, whatever methods his wife used to satisfy herself, lying on the bed.  It wasn’t the most enjoyable experience for him, but it appealed to Cynthia’s streak of exhibitionism; it gave her a buzz, and added a piquancy to her orgasms.

At two he was ordered to change into his ‘Alice’ outfit – a three-quarter length puff-sleeved dress of pale blue and white satin, with a bow at the waist, white tights and black patent Mary Janes, set off with a wig of luxuriant shoulder-length blonde hair.  Knowing protest was futile, and this in any case being one of his least objectionable costumes, Paul complied.  After presenting himself in the bedroom, he stood patiently while Cynthia buckled on his matching blue wrist and ankle cuffs, and his white locking collar, with its silver rings and little bell.  She pushed him down into the chair, linked his cuffs to the chair with carabiners, and his collar to the wall plate with a short chain.
“There.  Nearly done, darling.  Now close your eyes and I’ll show you your present.”
She went to the cupboard and took out a plastic bag.  Paul, with a sigh, obediently closed his eyes.
“You can look now.”
Cynthia was holding up something that looked like a large deflated balloon.  But as she turned it over in her hands, he saw what it was.  A full-head rubber hood, made of heavy natural-coloured latex, pierced only by holes for the eyes and nostrils, and a small round aperture at the mouth.
“Like it?”
“No.”
She ignored his surliness.
“And I’ve got you this to go with it.”
She held up what he later discovered was called a ‘tunnel’ gag.  As she turned it over in front of his eyes its function began to dawn on him.  It was shiny and scarlet – latex over steel, Cynthia later informed him - quite short, with a curved back plate designed to fit behind the teeth, and a perfectly circular aperture at the front, larger then the back plate, so that the tunnel flared out slightly like a horn, with a lip around the opening.  The tunnel itself was probably about an inch and a half in diameter.  He stared at it horrified, and then at Cynthia.
“I’m not wearing that…”
“I’m sorry about the wig, but maybe you can wear it later.”  She peremptorily tugged it off his head.  “Now, the hood may be a little tight, so I’m going to have to use some lube.  Keep still, for goodness’ sake!”
She delved back into the bag and produced a tube a gel, which she squeezed straight onto his shaved head and began to spread over his skin.
“Just down to your ears should do…”
“Cynthia, please….”
“Shh…you’re going to love it, wait and see.”
Before he could raise any more objections, she had pulled open the neck of the hood – it took some little effort to stretch the heavy rubber – and after a couple of unsuccessful attempts, began to work it down over his face, flattening his nose and ears.  All of a sudden it popped into place, clinging to his head like a second skin, and transforming him in an instant from a human being to a sort of rubber doll.  Cynthia stood back and surveyed him.
“Wow.  Georgina said I would be surprised.  She was right.  I like it.  It really suits you.”
“It’s too tight!” came Paul’s voice, strangely muffled, from inside the mouth hole.
“You’ll get used to it,” smiled Cynthia, adjusting it till she was quite happy with the fit.  “There.  It could have been made for you.”
The neck of the hood came down over his collar, so she unbuckled it and buckled it back on over the top.  “That looks neater,” she said.  “Comfy?  Good.  Now let me show you the accessories.  First of all, there are these.”  She held up a pair of little rubber cups, printed with wide blue eyes.  “These push on over the eyeholes, like that…and that.  See?  Oh, no,” she laughed, you can’t, can you?  But they make you look very pretty, just like the real Alice, in fact.”
“Let me out!”
“Paul…”
“Let me out!  Please!”
“Paul…oh, of course.  You can’t hear a thing, can you.  Hold on.”
She reached into the bag and retrieved a small microphone and lead, which she plugged into a socket at the back of the hood, just at the nape of the neck.
“Hello, Pauline?  Can you hear me now?  Just nod if you can?  Great.  I should have explained.  The ears are padded – that’s what these little bulges are” – she stroked one side of his head – “and fitted with earphones.  If I plug in the mike, I can speak to you.  But this afternoon I’ll be connecting you to my player, and you’ll be able to listen to music for as long as you like.”
“I don’t wanna listen to music.  I can’t see, an’ I can’t hear, either.  I wanna come out…”
“You are so ungrateful, Pauline.  I think it’ll be better if you can’t speak, as well.  This should take care of it.”
She picked up the tunnel gag, turned it sideways, and stretching the rubber mouth hole open with her fingers, levered it into his mouth. It snapped neatly into place, the back plate behind his teeth, the mouth hole gripping the tunnel, the shiny red circular lip becoming his new mouth.  He looked just like a real sex-doll!
“Oh, Danny’s going to have such a nice surprise,” she murmured. 
Paul was shaking his head as much as his tether would allow, and making inarticulate gurglings.  Cynthia, frowned, shortened his chain a little, and, taking from the bag a black rubber plug like a sink plug, inserted it firmly into the hole.  Finally, she unplugged the mike and plugged in the player.
“There.  All done.  Now we can have a nice quiet, uninterrupted afternoon!”

[Simonssister]

Chapter 9.  Two Plus One.

Now that Paul was taken care of, Cynthia had half an hour to freshen up before Danny arrived.  In deference to his approval of the red blouse, she chose another silk one, grey this time, complemented by a short, flared tartan skirt, black hold-ups, and red satin panties.  She didn’t spare the perfume.  That at least was not going to be wasted on Paul either – smell being the one sense remaining to him. 
At three exactly there was a knock at the door, and there was Danny, smiling but a bit sheepish, in jeans and an open-necked shirt.
“Hi…  Is it all right to come in…?”
“Course, idiot!  Get in here!”
“Okay…I was wondering...that’s all…your husband…you got rid of him then?”
“Got rid of him?” laughed Cynthia.  “What, do you think I did him in or something?”
“No…  I mean, he’s going to be out for a while…I hope.”
“Out?  No, darling.  He’s upstairs in the bedroom.”
Danny’s mouth fell open.  “What?  He’s here?  You told me it was all taken care of!”  A sudden thought crossed his mind.  “I’m not into threesomes, I’m sorry…”
“Oh, Danny.  Don’t worry!  Neither am I.  Unless it was you and your twin brother.  No, come and see.”  She beckoned him towards the stairs.  He looked doubtful.
“Come on, silly.  There’s nothing to be frightened of!”
Puzzled, Danny followed her upstairs.  She led the way into the bedroom.
“Danny, may I introduce my husband, Pauline?  Pauline, this is Danny.”
Danny stopped in the doorway, transfixed.  He stared at the figure in the chair.
“That…that’s your husband…?   Why…?”
“You can speak freely.  She can’t hear, and she can’t see.  She’s much better as a girl, you see, and I pretty much do what I like with her.  This afternoon I thought it would be nice for us to have some privacy.”
A smile spread slowly over Danny’s face.  He…she…looks like Alice in Wonderland…but also like one of those rubber sex dolls…  Can she really not hear us?”
“Not at all.  She’s listening to music.  She’s quite happy.  We can get up to whatever we like.”
“What?”  He stared.  “You mean here, in front of him…her?” 
“Just think of her as a doll.  A big, blue-eyed doll, who sees nothing, hears nothing, and knows nothing.”  She sat down on the side of the bed.  “Now come here and let me see that lovely prick of yours.”
Danny hesitated.  Then with a grin and a shrug, he went and sat down next to her.  Her perfume enveloped him, and her hand sought his crotch.
“Oh, Danny…it’s already big…”
“Cos I’ve been thinking about you all day.  I had to stop myself jerking off.”
“I should hope so!”  She pushed him back onto the bed, and slowly unzipped his jeans.   There was no hesitation this time.  His pen-is burst out, swelling and hardening before her eyes, the head, glistening with his juices, thrusting forth from its sheath.  Cynthia drew a deep breath. 
“Get up onto the bed properly.  I want to examine this more closely.”
Danny lay on the bed.  Cynthia dropped on her knees next to the bed, with her face level with his pen-is, and wrapped her fingers lovingly around the shaft.  A gentle squeeze was enough to elicit a groan of pleasure from Danny, and a profuse emission from the tip of his member.  Gently, she began to move her hand up and down, staring at it with concentrated fascination.
“I love your prick, Danny.  It’s beautiful.  And it’s so juicy – I just want to suc-k that juice all up.  Do you know?  If we’d had another couple of minutes in the stationery room, I could easily have c-um, just from suc-king you.”
“Oh…ah…really?  I’m not surprised.  You’re the sexiest girl I’ve ever met.”
Cynthia purred.  The sexiest “girl”.  Surely that was just flattery.  But flattery gratefully received.  She demonstrated her gratitude by beginning to lick Danny’s erect coc-k as if it were some sort of delicious ice cream, which had to be eaten before it melted.  He sighed.
“Cynthia, stop, please.  I don’t want to c-um yet.  I need so badly to fuc-k you.”
“How rude you are, sir!”
But Danny was already dragging her onto the bed.  He picked her up her bodily, turned her flat on her face, then lifted her hips so that her bottom was sticking up in the air.  Not even bothering to take off his jeans, he pulled aside the crotch of her panties.  She was already moist.  He pressed the head of his pen-is firmly against her pussy, and, taking it in his hand, slid it up and down, opening her up and coating her with his own secretions.
“Oh, god, Danny…” she murmured.  She had started to tremble.  She slid her knees apart to give him more room to manoeuvre, but he continued to tease her, pushing the tip in and then withdrawing, until she was frantic with lust.
“Danny…darling…please…just fuc-king ram it into me!  Please!  I’ve gotta…oh, god!!”
He had finally obliged, and now he was thrusting into her with long, steady strokes.  His pen-is was thick, but they were both so well lubricated that it moved slickly in and out.  At each stroke Cynthia pushed back as hard as she could, making the head thud against her cervix.  His belly slapped noisily against her buttocks. 
“You sure…ah!…he can’t hear…?”
“Danny…you’re so big….god, I love you…”
His pace didn’t slacken for several minutes.  Then all at once he froze.
“I’m gonna c-um in a second.  Hold on…”
He withdrew, pulled a condom out of his pocket, then pulled his clothes off and tossed them on the floor.  He ripped open the packet and rolled it on. In a flash he was back inside her, holding onto her upper thighs.  He resumed his pounding.  The condom reduced his sensitivity, and slowly he drew back from the edge of orgasm.  But Cynthia wasn’t to be put off.  After a minute she pulled away, turned him onto his back, climbed astride him, and rode him like a pony, clutching his hair as if it was its mane.  She slid her hips firmly back and forth, using her pussy to control the movements of his pen-is, forcing it to oscillate inside her.  He was moaning by this time, and Cynthia was almost hysterical with arousal, babbling any obscenity that entered her head.
“Cynth, not so loud…” he whispered, glancing sideways at the wide-eyed figure in the chair.
“I’m gonna make you fuc-king c-um like a fuc-king fountain.  Don’t worry about her.  She can’t hear fuc-k all, Danny.”
“But…but the whole fuc-king room’s shaking!”
“Never mind…god, this is unbelievable….Danny?”
He had suddenly grasped the bed cover with both hands, stiffened, and, with a loud groan, he climaxed.  She could feel his convulsions, and the warmth of his sperm flooding out inside her.  She squeezed him with her pussy as hard as she could, making him cry out as if in pain.  She was overwhelmed by an indescribable elation, and, as she looked down on his contorted face and jerking torso, a sudden access of pure joyful affection.  She allowed her self to fall forward onto his chest, her pussy milking him of every last drop.

After a couple of minutes, she rolled off and lay beside him.  She took his hand.  They didn’t speak.  She glanced over at Paul.  It was clear that, even though he couldn’t see or hear, he knew something was going on.  His head was moving from one side to the other, searching for clues.  She sat up.  The full condom was hanging off the end of  Danny’s now flaccid member, and was in danger of slipping off onto the coverlet.  She detached it carefully, making sure not to spill any.  She held it up.
“That was a big one, Danny!”
“I’ve been saving it for you.”  He paused.  “I think he…she, knows.  Look at her.”
Paul was agitated, and producing little squeaks of protestation from inside his throat.
“Yeah.  I guess she does.”
“It was sort of exciting…feeling her there…and you being her wife, like…”
“Yeah.  It was.  I like teasing her myself.  But if she suspects….”  She contemplated the condom.  “If she suspects, we might as well give her the evidence.”
She slipped off the bed and went over to Paul.  She gave Danny a wink.  She removed the plug from his gag and put it on the floor.  Then, very carefully, she stretched the mouth of the condom over the lip of the gag, and let it snap firmly in place.  Danny’s eyes widened.
“What…what are you going to do?”
“It’s her treat.  But she’s never had anyone else’s.  She’s going to be so happy.”
The full condom was hanging down in front of his chin, heavy and warm.  Carefully, she cupped it in her hand and fed it into the gag, and then replaced the plug.  Paul was still for a moment, then began to struggle and throw his head about.
“There you are,” Cynthia laughed, “I told you she’d like it.  Maybe we can make some more for her later…”

[Simonssister]

Chapter 10.  Always Welcome Guests.

It was a torrid afternoon.  By six, Paul had been the recipient of two more of Danny’s loads.  What his feelings about that were, it was impossible to tell – whether he was agitating his head in disgust, or gratitude.  As the lovers copulated, right under his nose, his face - Pauline’s face - maintained a bland, innocent, wide-eyed gaze, her circular red lips conveying nothing but an invitation to fill her mouth.
By this time, Cynthia was lying face down, eyes closed, aching in every muscle – but quite fulfilled and peacefully content.  When Danny began to caress her bottom for the umpteenth time, and she felt his pen-is swelling against her thigh, instead of turning and embracing him, she sighed heavily.
“Darling…I’m pooped.  I give in.  You’re too much for me.  I need to rest…to sleep…”
“It’s not my fault…you started it,” he laughed.
“I know I did…but I’m an old woman, and I had forgotten what teenagers are like…”
She reached for his pen-is.  It was already semi-erect again.
“Seriously, Danny, I’m done…”  She began weakly to play with it, thinking to give him a hand job.
“I want to put it inside…” he whispered.
“Truly.  I’m sore.  I need a little while….”  She opened her eyes, slowly.  The first thing she saw was her husband – the blank face, a string of c-um hanging from the plugged lips.  A thought occurred to her.
“Pauline’s right there, dear.  She’ll happily give you a blow job.”
Danny laughed.
“I’m serious.  Try it.  You may like it.”
“You are serious!”
“Quite.  Why not?  I’m sure she’s gagging to!”
“If you’re not careful, I will!”
“Dare you.”
“You don’t think I would, do you?”
It’s obvious he does want to, thought Cynthia, trying to smother a laugh.
“No, I don’t think you would.”
“Right!  I’ll show you then!”
Throughout this exchange, Danny’s pen-is had been hardening.  Now he slid off the bed and approached Pauline.
“Anyway, that’s what she’s for, isn’t it?  That’s what sex dolls are for…”
He was pretending it was all a sort of lark, but Cynthia could tell by his tone that the idea really excited him.
“Your turn, now, Pauline,” he joked.
Cynthia sat up.  Now she was feeling aroused again.  Her phone was on the bedside table, and she surreptitiously picked it up and began to film.  Pretending to be checking Paul’s restraints, she went over to him, quietly propping it on the window sill when Danny wasn’t looking.  Then she stood back to see what was going to happen.
“Come on darling,” grinned Danny, “let’s see what you’ve got.”
He pulled out the plug, allowing a little stream of saliva and c-um to dribble down the Alice dress.  His pen-is was already throbbing with anticipation.
“Do you think it’ll fit?” asked Cynthia, carelessly.
“I’ll make it,” said Danny, eyes fixed on the circle of red lips.  He moved his legs slightly apart, so that his pen-is was on a level with Pauline’s mouth, and placed the head against her lips.  Pauline began to shake her head.  She could probably tell what was happening by the scent of Danny right under her nose.  But Danny quickly held her head still between his hands, and pushed gently forward.  To Cynthia’s surprise, after a brief resistance, the swollen head disappeared easily into the lubricated aperture.  Danny gasped.
“I’m inside!  Oh…god.”
Half his prick was buried in Pauline’s face.  It was obvious that the whole glans was now in her mouth.  Danny made an attempt to pull back, but it seemed that the swollen end of his pen-is was held there by the back plate of the gag.  So instead he pushed forward, until his balls were resting against Pauline’s chin.  Cynthia stared in disbelief.  Pauline started making little squeaking noises deep down in her throat.  Danny let out a great sigh of pleasure, and then slowly pulled back to his former position.
Cynthia looked at him questioningly.  “Nice?”
“Amazing!”
“Better than my pussy?”
“No…,” he said, unconvincingly.
“Let’s see if we can make it better for you.”  She picked up the mike, unplugged the player, and plugged it in.
“Hello, darling.  I hope you’re having a nice time.  Say hello to Danny.  Danny’s the guy who’s in your mouth at the moment.  He’s a guest.  Now, you know how courteous we always are to our guests, don’t you?  Well, it would be very nice if you’d make him welcome by using you tongue on his pen-is.  Yes?”
She waited.  “Anything happening?”
“Not a thing.”
“Okay.  See how far in you can get it.”
“Sure.”  Danny clasped his hands around the back of Pauline’s rubber-sheathed head, and pulled it forward, thrusting forward himself at the same time, till his pubic hair was tickling Pauline’s nostrils.  She squirmed and squeaked frantically.
“Okay, that’s enough.”
He pulled back.  Cynthia held up the mike again.
“So, dear, I’m sure you understand the point.  Either you can welcome our guest properly, or he’ll be forced to take his pleasure in the way he’s just demonstrated.  Take your choice.”  She looked at Danny.  “Any reaction?”
Danny didn’t reply directly, but the words were hardly out of her mouth when his eyeballs drifted upwards, and he gave a loud groan of pleasure.  “Oh, my god.  Yes…yes!”
Cynthia smiled.  She glanced down at her phone.  Good.  Recording nicely.  Would hate to miss anything.
In the minutes that followed, Danny did occasionally allow himself the pleasure of sliding deeper into Pauline’s mouth, but in general he let her do the work, revelling in the feeling of her tongue lapping dutifully at his glans, and assiduously exploring the underside cleft.  His stood there, his body undulating, his buttocks clenched.  Cynthia placed and affectionate hand on his bum, and murmured quiet words of encouragement in his ear.  He was gritting his teeth and moaning, and she could see it wouldn’t be long until his climax overwhelmed him.
“Darling?” she whispered, “When it happens, try not to thrust in.  I want her to be able to taste how delicious your sperm is.  She’s a connoisseur, you know.”
Those words pushed Danny over the brink.  With a cry, he came violently, pumping hot c-um into Pauline’s mouth – more than she could comfortably swallow, in fact, for a few drops burst from one side of her mouth, and even from her nostrils.  However, Cynthia noted with relief that she manged to gulp down most of it.  It would have been a pity had any significant amount been wasted.
Danny remained in her mouth for about a minute before he finally withdrew his wilting coc-k.  It was satisfying to observe that there was no flow of semen from the gag as it slid out. 
“Our greedy little girl seems to have swallowed the lot,” smiled Cynthia, replacing the plug.  “Now, Danny, if you’re quite satisfied, perhaps we could go and make dinner?  After all, Pauline’s already eaten, and I’m feeling hungry!”

[Simonssister]

Chapter 11.  Secrets.

“Yes, I’m hungry myself now, after that,” said Danny, still standing in front of Paul.
“You’d give her good marks, then,” asked Cynthia.
“Ten out of ten,” grinned Danny.  He picked up the mike.  “Thank you for the best blow-job” – here Cynthia raised an eyebrow – “oops, I mean, the second-best blow-job, I’ve ever had, Paul…er, Pauline.”  He laughed.  “Maybe we can do it again sometime?”  He patted Paul’s rubber-clad cheek.  The wide-eyed doll made no apparent response.  “There’s plenty more where that came from!” 
“Right, Danny, I get it,” said Cynthia, with just a hint of irritation, taking the mike from him.  Now go have a shower and come downstairs.  I’ll have one after you.”
“And Paul here…?” he asked, casually, picking up his clothes.
“Oh, he’ll be all right where he is for a while.”  She knew Danny had to go home that night – he and his mates were watching some important football match – and she thought it would be amusing if Paul never actually got to lay eyes on the owner of the pen-is – at least, not yet.  As soon as Danny left the room, she retrieved her phone and turned off the video.  As to why she had recorded Danny’s performance – well, she knew she’d want to watch it again herself, for one.  But also, Cynthia was a wily woman, and she had a vague idea it might come in useful one day.  I’ll download that to the computer after he’s left, she thought to herself.  And I suppose Paul should have a copy too.

After dinner, Danny had to rush off to meet his mates.  Typical man, thought Cynthia, though she was equally happy to see him go now that her sexual needs had been satisfied.  She had no desire for any romantic relationship with anyone. 
She sat in the lounge for a while, finishing her wine and cogitating.  Then she jumped up and ran upstairs.  She contemplated the vision that was Paul, took a quick snap of him full-faced, tut tutted over the slimy state of his lovely dress, then flipped the caps off his eyes and picked up the mike.
“All right, darling,” she smiled, “it’s time for you to be released.  Sit still while I get that gag off, please.”  She dropped the mike.  “Now, open wide – as wide as you can.”
With a effort she first pressed it in, then prised it out of his mouth and out of the aperture in the rubber hood.  It was an ingenious device.  It was designed so that, if the wearer was prevented from using his or her hands, it could not be removed -  so it required no external strap to hold it in place.  Perfect for the creation of a human sex-doll. 
“Better?”
Paul sighed with relief.  “My jaw…aches so much…”
“Never mind.  Let’s get that hood off.”
She unbuckled his collar, and, after a short struggle, manged to roll the hood off his head, with only minor injuries to his nose and ears.
“There.”  She put it aside, and went to release his hands and feet.  “What’s up with you?”
Paul was pouting and frowning at her.  “Who was that?  Why did you let him do that?”
“Who was it?  He’s a friend – a guest.  Why did I let him do it?  Because it’s your function to entertain, amuse and if necessary, satisfy our guests.  Do you have a problem with that?”
Her dressage whip was propped in the corner, and she went over and picked it up. 
“Well, do you?”
Paul’s eyes widened with fear.  He immediately changed his tune.
“No.  No, darling, of course not…”
“Sure?”
“Yes, absolutely…absolutely…”
“Good.  Just as well.  And if you are required to do it again – or do anything – you’ll do it.  Clear?”
“Yes.  Clear.  Perfectly clear.”  He paused.  “His name’s Danny?  Did you…did you…”
“fuc-k him?  Of course.  Several times.  You swallowed the result.”
“Where…”
“Enough questions.  If you’re good, I might let you watch us next time.”
Paul stiffened and blushed.  Cynthia looked at him questioningly.
“Does that excite you?”
“N-no, of course not, I…I…”
She smiled.  “It does, doesn’t it?  Paul, you’re such a little pervert.  That’s why I love you.  I bet you enjoyed every minute of your bondage this afternoon.  And I bet the thing you enjoyed most was having Danny’s big juicy prick in your mouth, and gobbling up his lovely thick sperm.  I noticed how greedily you were swallowing it.”
“Cynthia…no…it wasn’t…like that…”
But his embarrassment was a confession that he had not been entirely averse to the experience.  Of course, he hated the humiliation of being restrained, made into a sex-doll, and most of all supplanted by another, more virile lover.  He hated Cynthia making him her submissive, exploiting his weak will.  But she felt sure that suc-king Danny’s pen-is had given him an immense thrill.  She guessed that doing such a thing was something he fantasized about, but would never have had the nerve to do unless he had been forced into it.  She had suspected that he had been aroused at the time, and that the recollection of it was arousing him again.  She lifted his dress to confirm her suspicions, and smiled with satisfaction when she saw his member straining at his little panties.
“I think it was, naughty boy.  You look as though you need to attend to that.  All right.  You may.”
She released his hands, and left him to free his feet. 
“I’ll see you downstairs in a while.  I’ve kept your dinner for you.  Don’t be too long, will you?”  She went to leave, but turned round in the doorway. 
“By the way, I’ve sent you a video.  Your phone’s by the bed.  You might find it interesting viewing while you’re…relieving your frustrations.”

Paul took some time to appear downstairs.  He looked a lot more relaxed than before.
“Did you like the film?”
His cheeks burned and he bit his lip.
“Gorgeous, isn’t he?”
No reply.
But later on, after they had gone to bed, she in the bed which still smelled of Danny, and he in his sleeping bag, he asked, innocently, “Cynthia?  Will you be seeing Danny again sometimes?”
“Relax, darling.  I hope to be seeing a lot of him.  But I don’t know if I can cope with him all by myself.  I might need some help.  Tanya, maybe…or Vicky…or…you, even?”
The only reply was a suppressed intake of breath.

[Simonssister]

Chapter 12.  A Treat for Paulie.

The following day Cynthia found Jayne eager to hear about the weekend.
“Tell me everything, darling.  Every little sordid detail.”
“Well, what can I say?  After a few hours with him, I could hardly move.”
“He’s good then…”
“Good…and bad.”
“Bad?  How?”
“Well I had to do something with Paul…”
“Oh my god.  I’d forgotten about him.  Did you get rid of him for the day?”
“You’re the second person who’s suggested that.  No, I didn’t get rid of him.  He stayed for the whole thing.”
Jayne gasped.  “What?  He was there…?”
“He was there.  Course, I made sure he couldn’t interfere.  You know my methods, Watson.”  (Watson was Jayne’s surname.) 
“You tied him up somewhere!  God, Cynthia, you’ve got some nerve.”
“Somewhere?  Well yes – in the bedroom right opposite us.”
Jayne gaped.
“Here’s a picture.”  She showed Jayne the photo of Paul’s ‘face’.  Jayne covered her mouth.  She was speechless.
“But he was not entirely left out.  Danny took rather a liking to him.”
“T-took a liking….?”
“I’m going to show you a short clip.  But before I do, you must promise not to breathe a word to anyone – ever.  And don’t let on to him that you know.”
She scrolled through the video, and showed Jayne a few seconds.  Then put her phone back in her pocket.
Jayne’s mouth fell open.  She stared at Cynthia in shock.  After a minute or so she said, “He really did that?”
“He did.  And he loved it.  He doesn’t know I filmed him, and he’s not going to.”
“My god!  Show me again!”
“Okay.  Once more, that’s all.”
“fuc-k, Cynthia, that makes me so hot.  For me, seeing two men having it like that is about the sexiest thing I can think of.  If I ever want a really good wank, I just watch one of those gay porn films.  But this!  Too much.”
“Not a word, right?”
“Not a word.  But I’ll look at him in a different light now.  And your poor husband!”
“Not at all.  I’m pretty sure, despite all the recriminations, he enjoyed himself just as much.”

Cynthia went to see Danny at his flat on Tuesday and Thursday evening, leaving Paul alone to imagine what they were getting up to.  But she had some consolation for him.  On the Friday morning a package arrived.  His new hot pants!  She took them upstairs and unwrapped them from the tissue with reverent care.  “Beautiful,” she murmured.  Glossy scarlet latex, cross-belts with big pink buttons at the front, very short legs trimmed with frilling, a zip fly with a pink plastic ring-pull, which ended just below the waistband, a small vertical pocket on the right, and a little pink flower logo on the left leg.
“Paul?  Come up to the bedroom, please.  You’ve got another present, you lucky boy!”
He came up, a sulky expression on his face.
“Don’t look like that.  Look what I’ve got for you.”
“Yeah?  Okay…”
He was not entirely disappointed.  At least it wasn’t a dress.  And if the truth were told, he had a bit of a thing about rubber.  The feel of it next to his skin always made him excited.
“Let’s get you dressed.  I have an idea.  I think you’re going to look nice.
She dressed him in a crisp white shirt, and then made him pull on his hot pants.  They fitted very snugly, his pen-is like a little sausage and his balls clearly visible under the fine latex.  She arranged him so that his balls lay neatly, one each side of the centre seam, and the sausage at forty-five degrees to his right.  She helped him on with his white socks and Mary Janes, and completed his outfit with a little red bow-tie.
“Nearly finished…”
She produced a new wig, like a schoolboy’s hair, neatly parted on the left.  And finally, a red baseball cap, printed with the words “Little Rascal”, which she stuck on the back of his head.  She stood back to admire her work.
“Paul…  You look just like a mischievous little boy,” she laughed.  “But totally adorable.”  She looked at him thoughtfully.  “Wait.  I have another idea.”
She led him into her boudoir, sat him down at the dressing-table, and proceeded to paint a few freckles onto his cheeks.  “There.  That’s perfect!” 
She took his hand.  “Come out into the garden.  I want a few pictures.”
He submitted, and soon he found himself posing against the back wall of the house.  He felt slightly confused.  This was not anything like his usual outfits, yet he felt somehow quite in character.  He liked the feeling of the tight rubber, and the air on his legs, and of feeling smart - and it fed into his unrealised, unconscious desire to regress to a happier period of his life.  Soon he was grinning, and showing off for the camera.  He knew he was being watched – out of the corner of his eye he could see the kids from next door hanging over the fence pointing – but he didn’t care.  For Cynthia, his eager compliance opened up all sorts of possibilities.  So she decided she was going to reinforce his obvious liking for his new costume.  After the photo session, she led him back indoors, and told him to wait in the lounge.  She disappeared into the hallway, and a moment later returned holding a short red jacket.
“This goes with the cap.”  She held it up, with the back towards him.  “See?  “Little Rascal” on the back.”
“Er…thanks, Cynthia.”
He took the jacket.  A short, shiny bomber jacket, with pink collar and cuffs.  It might have been quite cool if it wasn’t for the pink.  But he guessed it matched the hot pants.
“Try it on.  Let me see what it looks like.”  She sat down on the sofa to view him in comfort.
He did as he was bid.  It fitted perfectly.
“Zip it up.  That’s it.  There, it looks great on you.”
Maybe it did.  He wasn’t sure.  When it fastened it came down just to the waist, so the big pink buttons peeped out under the pink trim.
“Turn around.  Super.”  Cynthia was gratified to see how cute it looked from the back, too. 
“Come here, you naughty little boy, and sit on my lap.  That’s right.  Now listen.  If I catch you misbehaving, young man, you’ll be over my knee for a good spanking.  Understand?”  She was delighted when Paul fidgeted and giggled just like a kid.  All the surliness was gone.  Cynthia was surprised at what a success it was.  This was clearly the role he wanted.  And if so, she’d make sure he got what he wanted.  Her mock strictness softened into a smile.  “But if you’re good, and do what your mummy tells you, then she might…reward you…”
She dug her fingers gently into his ribs, making him squirm and giggle even more.  Then she did something she hadn’t done for a long time.  She let her hand slide down onto his pants, and began to stroke the little sausage.  He gasped and began to tremble.  She gently massaged him into full erection, until she could feel his pants were slippery with juice.  Then she began to kiss him, on the neck, the cheek, the lips, all the while gently moulding and pulling his pen-is like a piece of plasticine.  She kept him on the edge as long as she could, until at last he was convulsed by a massive orgasm.  His cap fell off onto the floor.  As he sat there, jerking with after-shocks, completely happy and exhausted, she gave him one final peck on the cheek.
“There, Paulie.  You’re mummy’s good boy, aren’t you?  I hope Paulie likes his new hot pants…”
But she hoped, after this, he would be much happier to put on his new outfit – and she was already thinking how that could be used to her advantage.

[Simonssister]

Chapter 13.  Tanya.

That evening, when Paul was happily watching television, still dressed in his hot pants, Cynthia went upstairs and telephoned her friend Tanya.  Tanya was a fun-loving girl the same age as her, who she’d been at college with.  She was a nurse, and she had a partner called Roger, who was a bit of a egotist, and whom Cynthia found mildly irritating.  Hence, when she fancied a good long girlie chat,  she generally liked to get Tanya on her own.  Paul hated Roger, largely because he himself had a thing for Tanya, and he was jealous.  But Roger’s personality made it all the more difficult for him.
Cynthia knew Roger was away at some conference that weekend, so she wanted to ask whether they could meet up on Saturday.  It turned out Tanya was at a loose end, and only too eager for them to get together.  Neither felt like doing much, so it was agreed she’d come over to Cynthia’s for the day.  Tanya had a vague idea of Cynthia’s relationship with Paul – she knew Cynthia ruled the roost – but no conception of what really went on.  Cynthia was thinking it was about time she let her in on a few of the details.  The events of the previous weekend had opened her eyes to the possibilities of involving others in her games.  As she was talking, she wondered what Tanya would say if she could see him now, in his latest outfit.  But her priority was to get him feeling comfortable wearing it – he looked so sweet, and she didn’t want to spoil things by humiliating him.

Tanya arrived just before lunch, as they had arranged.  Paul, who was of course back in his everyday clothes, had been excited all the morning, looking forward to seeing his favourite girl once again.  Tanya was pretty cool, with her short blond hair, big earrings, and bright red lipstick.  She was always simply but smartly dressed.  Today she was wearing jeans, ankle boots, a big man’s shirt, and a scarf tied carelessly about her neck.  When the door was opened, she came in like a gust of sweet wind, in a cloud of expensive scent.  She greeted both of them with hugs and kisses.  She knew very well that Paul liked her, and was not averse to playing up to it, always including him in the conversation, and throwing little winks and funny glances in his direction.  No wonder he fancied her so much.
At lunch, Tanya brought them up to speed on her latest news, which was, to Paul’s utter disgust, that she and Roger were going to be married the next month.
“It’s no big deal,” she said, I mean, we’ve been together three years now.  “But my mum’s wants me to have a church wedding.  It’s not something I would want, but I’ve agreed anyway.  I just didn’t feel I could disappoint her.”
“Wow, congratulations!” cried Cynthia.  “ I hope we’re invited.”
“Of course, you know you are.”
“Yeah…congratulations,” added Paul, quite deflated.
“So what’s happening with you two?”
“Not much… same old same old…”
Yeah, like hell, thought Paul.  If she only knew…

After lunch, they went and sat in the lounge.  Tanya and Cynthia were on the sofa, chatting away, laughing and giggling like they always did, when suddenly Tanya reached down and picked something up off the floor.
“What’s this?  “Little Rascal”.  Who’s a little rascal?”
“Who do you think?  Paul?  You’ve left your cap here.”
Tanya laughed.  “Paul?  Are you a little rascal?”
Paul turned red, not knowing what to say.
“He was yesterday, Tanya.  A very naughty little rascal.”
“Cynthia…,” he protested.
“Oh, don’t be shy, Paul.  Tell Tanya what you got up to.  Go on.”
Paul was momentarily speechless.  He tried to recover his poise.  “I-I…you know…Cynthia got it for me as a joke…”  He tried to smile, casually.  “I don’t know why…”
But Cynthia, enjoying his embarrassment, and seeing that Tanya was going to get to the bottom of it one way or another anyway, couldn’t resist the temptation.
“I’ll show you.  It’s part of Paul’s new outfit.  Here.”
Paul was aghast.  But it was too late.  She passed her phone to Tanya, who scrolled through the pictures.
“Oh my god!  Paul!  You look so sweet!  I can hardly believe it’s you!  Those cute little hot pants!”
She must have caught sight of his erection in one of the pictures, because she suddenly covered her mouth and gasped, and looked at Cynthia for an explanation.
“Why don’t you go and put it on for Tanya.  I know she’d love to see you in it.”
“No!...I…don’t think…” he was panicking now.
“Oh, please, Paul,” Tanya begged.  “Please.  Just for me.”  She rose, went over to him, and pulled him up out of his chair.  She put her arms round him.  “Just for me.  Please.  I won’t tell anyone.  But you look so smart!  It was so clever of Cynthia.  I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”
She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and stroked his head.
“But Tanya…it was just a joke…you know…”
“Maybe it was, darling.  But it really does something for me.  I can see you have the facility - the rare facility – to connect to your inner child.  I find that so attractive.  So few men are capable of shedding their chauvinism like that.  I always knew you were special…”
“I’m not special.”  He was weakening.  “But I suppose…if you insist…”
“Oh, you wonderful man.  My darling!”  And she hugged him again, giving Cynthia a broad wink over his head.
Cynthia, who had been watching Tanya’s performance with a mixture of amusement and admiration, jumped up and took Paul’s hand before he could change his mind.
“Come on, darling.  Let’s go and put on your nice outfit.”  And she half led, half pulled him, out of the room.