Simon

[Simonssister]

Chapter XXI:  Redress  (Part 4, Grassed Up )

We were getting more used to our unaccustomed footwear, and managed to lay the table without too many mishaps.  Beautiful bowls and plates, polished cutlery, shining glasses.  Tamsin and Carmelita sat down.  I brought in a bottle of claret and poured some for them.  They carried on talking, ignoring me.  This is how posh people treat their servants, I thought.  That’s fine with me.  I’d prefer not to be noticed. 
Rebecca was filling bowls with soup.  Billy carried two and I the odd one.  The women seemed to be looking at him, though, with particular interest.  I heard Tamsin make some remark which sounded like “so innocent”, with an unpleasant smirk on her face, and Carmelita whispered something in her ear which made her laugh.  It reminded me of things that had been said about me before.  As the ladies started eating, we stood obediently against the wall, as Rebecca had instructed us.  Billy leant towards me and whispered,
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Sim.”
Tamsin immediately called over, “No talking.  And don’t look at us while we’re eating.  Keep quiet and look straight ahead!  Tut, tut!  Servants these days, Rebecca!”  And they all laughed.
“Sorry. Miss,” said Billy.
“What were you talking about, anyway?”
“Nothing, Miss.”
“Nothing?  Please don’t lie, boy.  You know what you’ll get.”
“Sorry, Miss. I just asked Simon if he knew what you were having for dessert.”
“Oh, did you.  And why should that interest you, may I ask?”
“Just because I can smell something sweet in the kitchen, and it smells nice, Miss.”
More laughter, and they carried on eating their soup.  When they had finished, we collected the bowls, and brought in the main course as Rebecca plated it up.  I served more wine, both red and white, and by the time we had cleared away the plates they were all very happy indeed.  Dessert was profiteroles with chocolate sauce and cream.  They were served in pyramids on big plates in the middle of the table.  We were heading back to our station when Rebecca called us.
“Come on girls, come and share!”  We didn’t need a second invitation.  We pulled up chairs, and sat together between Carmelita and Tamsin, Billy next to Carmelita.  Rebecca fetched a bottle of champagne and five glasses.  I made a mental resolution not to drink too much, but as we helped ourselves to the delicious profiteroles and sipped champagne, and the ladies seemed more and more friendly and nice, it was difficult to stick to it.  Tamsin started chatting to me as if I were an equal, smiling and touching my arm every now and then in such a friendly way, that I began to imagine she actually liked me.  Then she said,
“While you were in the kitchen I took the liberty of doing a little research.”
“Research?”
“Yes.  About Leicester Arts Festival.  I found out the name of the organiser – a Ms Jacquetta Wright.”
“Really?  Why?”
“I thought she should know about your amazing contribution.  All her details were there so I used your Facebook to send her an invite, and I wrote to her myself and sent her the video and congratulated her on having such an amusing act at the Festival.”
“You did what?”
“Sorry, Simon. I thought she would appreciate your little joke.”
She showed me a picture of Ms Wright at the Festival.  For a moment my anger evaporated, ousted by my intrinsic fetishism, as I gaped at a smart young woman dressed in a tight latex top and flared skirt.  I gulped and tried to recover myself.
“Yes, quite, Simon.  When I saw her picture I knew I had to do something.”
“W-well, you shouldn’t have.  That’s not f-fair, Tamsin.”
“You’re right. But it’s too late now, darling.  Never mind, I don’t suppose she’ll even open my email or respond to your invitation.  Such people have better things to do than respond to strangers.”  She glanced at her phone.  “Oh, no, I was wrong!  Look at that!  She’s already written back to me!  Let me see…..”Thank you for writing about your young friend.  I’ve now had a chance to watch the video – several times – and to read his explanation.  I’m afraid I don’t remember either him or his friend at Leicester this week, and there was no “pop-up stage” near the town hall.  I intend to make further enquiries about this interesting matter, and if you have any details that would allow me to contact him direct, I’d of course be most grateful.  Best Wishes, Jacquetta Wright.”   What a nice email!  Of course I’ll send her your phone number at once!”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Oops – too late again, Sim.  You really should be quicker off the mark.”  I covered my face with my hands in despair.  “Where is your phone anyway?  Oh, still upstairs?  I’ll bring it down – just in case she calls, you know.”
She hurried off upstairs and returned a minute later. 
“Nothing yet, but I’ve sent you her picture.  It would be so exciting if she did, though, don’t you think?”
I replied only in my thoughts.  Tamsin resumed her seat.  She looked at Billy.
“I think Billy likes that dress,” she laughed, “more than the clothes he came in!  Don’t you Billy?”
“Yes Miss.  An’ I like to stockings, too.  They feel all silky, and I like the feeling of the tops around my thighs.”
“You look so pretty, darling,” cooed Carmelita, “good enough to eat!”  And she leant over and nibbled at Billy’s neck, making him collapse in a fit of girlish giggles.
“Come on, drink up boys,” said Rebecca, “I’ll get another bottle.”
By now I was feeling distinctly woozy, but to drown my anxieties about Ms Wright I knocked back the rest and waited for a refill.  Billy had if anything drunk more than me, and I could see the effects were beginning to kick in.  Carmelita was leaning over with her right arm around Billy’s waist, and her left hand resting on his stockinged leg, whispering in his ear until he was squirming in his seat and helpless with laughter.  I felt I should try to calm him down somehow, so I grabbed his hand and squeezed it to get his attention.  He looked at me blankly for a moment, but then Carmelita’s hand moved up onto his little panties and began gently to massage the bulge of his boyhood. Tamsin leaned across to me.
“That’s good, Simon.  You hold his hand while Carmy has her fun with him.”
Her fingers worked slowly but rhythmically, and she leant her head on his shoulder, observing with a satisfied expression the little mound growing and hardening under her caresses.  Billy eyes closed and his head fell back.  He began to moan quietly.
“Good boy.  There, there.  Just relax,” murmured Carmelita.  Rebecca had returned, and stood behind her holding an open bottle of champagne, watching the developing spectacle and smiling.  She glanced at me.
“She looks so innocent when you first meet her, doesn’t she, Simon?”  Then, 
“Refill, darlings?” she asked, and topped up all our glasses.
“Thanks, Becca,” said Carmelita, running her fingertip thoughtfully along the length of Billy’s erection.  “Like some more champagne, Billy?” she asked, and, taking a mouthful herself, kissed him softly on the lips, dribbling the champagne into his mouth.  I saw him gulp it down.  She let her hand rest on his taut panties.
“This one’s a natural girl,” she said.  “He’s so happy when he’s in a dress, and the sexier the better.  I don’t blame you for fancying him, Simon.  He’s irresistible.”
“I don’t ‘fancy’ him.  I love Billy.  And you should leave him alone!” I blurted.
“Oh, you really do, don’t you?”  She paused.  “You’re jealous, aren’t you?  That’s it!  You’re jealous of me playing with him.  Admit it!”
I blushed.  It was true.  Why was he still so susceptible to females?  But then, I thought, so was I.  We were the same.  Not gay, but sissies through and through!  “No,…,”  I replied, doubtfully.
“He says he’s not, Carmy,” said Tamsin, “so why don’t you put him to the test?”
“Yes, I will.  Why not?  If he’s not jealous, he won’t mind, will he?”  And with an evil grin, she hooked her finger through the zip ring of Billy’s panties and began to tug it down in little jerks.  I let go of Billy’s hand and sat back in my chair.  I wanted to leave but Tamsin held me tight.

I kept my eyes shut for most of the next fifteen minutes.  It didn’t make much difference.  I could imagine exactly what was happening, just from the sounds, and in any case, Tamsin’s reactions provided a sort of commentary.  After a minute or so, Carmelita exclaimed
“It’s so slippery I can’t get a proper grip!”
“Don’t you have your riding gloves with you?” asked Tamsin.
“Oh, yes!  Could you get them for me? They’re in my coat in the hallway.”
I heard Tamsin get up and go out of the room, returning a few moments later.  She thrust something in front of my face.
“At least look at these!” she laughed.  I half opened my eyes.  She was holding up a pair of black, kid leather gloves, with silver buttons at the cuffs.
“Let me show them to you.  They’re leather, but the palms and the insides of the fingers have this bobbly rubber surface which helps you grip the reins if it’s wet.  Clever, eh?  Just the thing for this situation!”  She handed them to Carmelita, and I shut my eyes again.  After a minute or so I heard her say, “That’s better!”  Another silence and then a faint sound, a rhythmic ‘plop, plop, plop’, punctuated by Billy’s soft moans.  This went on for several minutes, sometimes faster, sometimes slower.  I found myself getting aroused despite my feelings.  Then Tamsin said, “Careful, Carmy - I think perhaps…”  The plopping sound stopped, I felt Tamsin grip my shoulder tightly, and then sound of muffled slurping, which culminated suddenly in a cry from Billy, and Tamsin murmuring, “oh my god”.  After a pause, there was the sound of the zip on Billy’s panties being closed, and then she added, “All right, Simon.  You can open your eyes now.
Carmelita was wiping her hands and face on several napkins, smiling like the cat that got the cream.  She stripped off her riding gloves and took a mirror out of her bag.
“Oh, dear!”
“Yes, darling, it’s in your hair too,” laughed Tamsin.  And indeed, there were milky droplets decorating the ginger curls next to her right cheek.  She shook her hair out, gathered it up, and tied it up behind her head.  “I’ll leave that as a remembrance.”
Billy was lying back, eyes half closed.  The hem of his little pink dress was all slimy and one of his suspenders had come undone.
“You look a mess!” I exclaimed, irritably.
“Sorry, Sim.  She, sort of, took advantage of me…”
“Oh, you poor thing.” I said, sarcastically. I was suffering from two types of jealousy now.  Jealousy because Carmelita and not me had made love to him, and jealousy because Billy and not me had been the object of her attention!  And by now I was again as frustrated as hell.  Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, my phone rang.  I prayed it wasn’t that woman.  Tamsin grabbed it and answered.
“Hello?  Simon Saunders’ phone?”
“Oh, really!  Yes, I am.  I’m Tamsin Stratford.  How nice of you to telephone!  Simon’s here, yes.  Let me put you on speaker.”
She placed the phone on the table.  “It’s Ms Wright, Simon?  Isn’t that nice?”
“Hello?  Simon?”
“Hi.”
“Hi.  This is Jacquetta Wright.  Your friend may have told you I run the Leicester Arts Festival.”
“Yes, Ms Wright.”
“Well I’ve seen your act.  It was great.  But it had nothing to do with our Festival, did it?”
“No, Miss.”
“So why did you pretend to be a part of it?  Please explain.  I’d be very interested to know.”
Tamsin looked at me, hard.  I took it to mean, “You’d better not implicate us – or else.”  I took the hint.
“It’s a long story, Miss, but me and my friend Billy,” – here I cast a glance of disgust at him, still languishing there like a ravished tart – “we performed this act for some friends of ours,” – here Tamsin smiled approvingly – “and then after it got put up on Facebook we realised all our schoolfriends would get the wrong idea, and we’d get ridiculed and maybe even beaten up over it.  So we devised this explanation.  I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you - or anyone.”
“I see.  Well it wasn’t very clever.  I was bound to hear about it eventually.”
“No, it was stupid.  We’re both really sorry.”
“Well then, apology accepted.  But I’m interested in you two.  When I first watched the video I actually thought I was watching two girls.  You’re very accomplished female impersonators, I must say.  I’d like to meet you.  Is that possible?”
“Oh, I’m not sure…”
“Ms Wright,” cut in Tamsin, “both the boys work for Holly End Riding School.  That’s near Kilton on the Hill.  It’s not far from Leicester.  You can always find them there at the weekends.  I can give you the contact details of the proprietor if you like, Sue Dawson.  She’d be more than happy to help.”
“Oh, thank you.  That’s very kind.  And actually I know where that is.  I live south of the city, anyway, so it’s only a short drive.  Perfect!”
Tamsin switched off the speaker and wandered off into the kitchen, still talking to Ms Wright.  Oh, thanks a bunch, Tamsin, I thought.  Though she did look pretty cool, that lady, I had to admit.
“Any profiteroles left?” asked Carmelita, enthusiastically.  I looked at her, disbelieving.  There was still a blob of goo on one side of her neck that she had missed.
“Sorry.  I just love that sweet cream.  Can’t get enough of it!” she giggled.

[krystalasbaby2017]

Lucky Billy, poor Sim.  Wonder what  further trouble is to come to the 2 sissies.

[Simonssister]

Chapter XXI:  Redress (Part 5, ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore)

I must have been looking miserable, because Miss Strickland looked over at me with a sympathetic smile and asked,
“Are you feeling a bit left out, Simon?  Having to sit there and watch everyone else having fun?”
“Bit, I s’pose.  I’m fine, though.”
“I don’t think you are, darling.  Come with me and let’s see if we can cheer you up.”
I followed her out of the room and upstairs to what I took to be her own bedroom.  There were some framed posters and photos on the walls, several of horses and riders, either standing in fields or jumping poles.  There was a picture of a girl in red breeches with hair of a familiar colour, on a beautiful horse.
“Is that ….?”
“Yes, that’s Carmelita.  That was a couple of years ago, when she wore her hair long.  I can’t remember what show it was, but I remember she won a prize.”  She took a photo of it.  “I’ll send you this for your album!” 
One big poster made me do a double take.  It was of a little girl in full riding costume perched proudly on her mount.  But her mount was a person!  To be precise, a lady in a black rubber catsuit and rubber hood, complete with little hooves, ears, a tail, and a proper saddle and bridle!  Her legs were strapped up so she had to walk on her knees and her arms were strapped into plastic retainers so that she couldn’t straighten them.  It gave me a funny feeling just to look at it.  I stood staring for a moment.  Then I noticed auburn curls projecting from under the hood.
“Oh.…Surely that’s not her as well?”
“Oh, you’ve noticed that.  Yes, that’s her.  That was only last year. She always been a wild one, that Carmy, but she was getting a bit full of herself, so we decided to give her a little specialist schooling, to remind her of her position.  She was still just a trainee, after all.  Please don’t ever mention it to her, though.  She’s still a bit sensitive about that episode.  And she still resents the fact we’ve kept the video.”
“I won’t, of course.  Any chance I could …?”
“I’m sorry, Simon.  No, you can’t copy the picture and you can’t see the video.  She’d be furious if she even knew I have this on the wall!”  She smiled to herself.  “It was fun, though.  Tamsin and I kept her trotting around the field all afternoon!”  She looked at me thoughtfully.  “We must do it again some time.  We haven’t properly ‘ponified’ anyone since.”

I began to look at the other pictures.  Some were of a dark place, with chains and shiny black leather things hanging on the walls.  I’m sure I saw Miss Strickland in one, and also Tamsin.  I was about to ask more questions, when she took my hand.
“Don’t worry about those, now, Simon.  Come here and look at some of the lovely costumes we brought over.” 
She opened the doors of a huge wardrobe.  Inside were hanging all sorts of dresses, sleek and sexy, long and flowing, short and frothy.  Below were stored all sorts of underwear and accessories.
“The dressing-room at Holly End was getting so full we decided to bring some of the things here.  I’m hoping you and Billy will spend more time here in the future.  You’ll have access to all these lovely outfits, and my friends will be here a lot of the time.  Don’t worry, we won’t ask you to be servants all the time.  You can have a lot of fun!”
“Well I’m sure Billy will be well up for it, Madam, if Miss Ashford-Jones is around,” I said, sourly.
“Oh, don’t blame him, darling.  She can make herself irresistible when she feels like it.”
“Well I know one thing.  He won’t be able to resist all these cute dresses.  I can just see him parading around in this!” I laughed, lifting out a lemon yellow party dress, all frills and flounces and petticoats.
“Yes, I can see what you mean,” smiled Rebecca, “he does love his pretty dresses, doesn’t he?  That one has little lacy knee-socks and matching shoes, too, and a yellow satin headband.  But what sort of thing do you like?”
“Dunno, Madam.  I think I like more grown-up stuff.  I like the outfit I’m wearing, for one thing.  It feels sexy.”
“You like sexy?”
“Yeah, I suppose I do.  Especially when I’m feeling sexy.”
“Ah!  Yes, you poor thing, you must be.  Tell you what, I’ve an idea.  Why don’t we find you something really sexy to get you noticed?”
“Okay, I guess…”
“Now, let me see….  Ah, there’s a very slinky latex dress here.  Figure-hugging.  Blue.  Will go well with your complexion.”
“Maybe…”
“Or we could simply go totally slutty.  What about this?”
She produced a black rubber skirt no more than ten inches long, and a very short red spandex top.  “Why don’t you try the whole outfit?”
So I did.  First, little red latex panties, semi-transparent. Fishnet stockings and a red latex suspender belt.  Then the skirt, which, if I stood up straight and held the hem down both sides, just hid my panties.  It came with a vinyl belt, from which hung a little read leather belt-purse.  “You’ll find a supply of condoms and bubblegum in there,” smiled Rebecca.  Then the spandex top, close-fitting, long-sleeved, but short enough to show my belly button, with a high collar.  The collar had little loops, and through that Rebecca fed a black leather collar, which buckled at the front.  From the buckle hung a little black plastic disc with the words “FREE BLOW-JOBS” printed on it!  The costume was completed with a pair of fingerless black rubber gloves, and high-heeled patent leather ankle boots with a row of three buckles.  The mere feeling of wearing this stuff was already making me hot.  I bit my lip, trying to fight back my arousal.  I looked at myself in the mirror.
“Wow!  That’s cool!  I look totally, like….”
“A complete whore, darling!  You do.  Do you think he might pay you some attention now?”
“It’s possible!” I grinned.  “Can’t wait to see his face, anyway.”
“Shall we go, then?  I’ll be your pimp.”

We made our way downstairs.  I looked through the crack in the door.  Billy had tidied himself up a bit, at least, but to my disgust he was now sitting on Carmelita’s lap in one of the armchairs, her hand resting on his thigh, as if he were her girlfriend.  I put a piece of bubblegum in my mouth and sidled into the room, my nose in the air.  Assiduously ignoring Billy, I wandered over to the kitchen door, which was now shut, and leant provocatively against it, loudly chewing gum and blowing the occasional bubble.  Nobody spoke, but I could feel their eyes on me.  Rebecca followed me in.
“If anyone wants her, fine – but she’s expensive.  Fifty pence for the hour, money up front.”
“I’ll take that,” exclaimed Carmelita, thrusting Billy off her lap and jumping up.
“Hey, he’s my friend!” wailed Billy.
“Too bad, darling.  Where’s your money?”
“It’s upstairs in my jeans.  I’m gonna get it!” shouted Billy, running out of the room.
Carmelita had other ideas.  She went to her handbag, took out her purse, tossed Rebecca a pound coin – “sorry, darling, that’s all I have” – which she deftly caught, and grabbed me by the hand.  A moment later we were through the kitchen and into the garden.  Unhesitating, she led me to what she called “the garden shed”, which was in fact a largish summer house with big windows.  She pushed me inside and locked the door behind us. 
In one corner was a low bunk bed, and before I could collect my thoughts I found myself flat on my back on it, with Carmelita nibbling at my ear and stroking my tummy. 
“I – I was trying to get Billy’s attention,” I protested, weakly, already half intoxicated with her scent.
“Too bad.  I got there first!  He’ll have to wait.”
“But…but…”
But it was too late.  Her hand had reached the tops of my stockings, and a moment later I was lost. 
“Ooh, these panties are so thin!  I can feel everything!  And see it, too!” she remarked, looking down.  “God, what a little tart!  You’re hard already!”
Her tongue was soon deep in my mouth, her fingers around my boyhood, kneading gently.  I lay there in helpless ecstasy.  After a minute or so, I became aware of a knocking at the door.  After a while the knocking stopped and I saw movement outside the adjacent window.  I turned my head slightly to the left and there was  Billy’s face, staring at me aghast, and Rebecca and Tamsin behind looking on.  Carmelita saw him too.
“Oh, your girlfriend.  Let’s give her something to stare at, shall we?”
Her face disappeared from my field of vision, and the next thing I knew was that my panties were yanked down and my member engulfed in Carmelita’s warm, expert mouth.  I groaned and squirmed with pleasure as, holding it carefully between her teeth, she explored its head with her muscular tongue.  My eyes were almost closed, but to my satisfaction I could see Billy’s dismayed face riveted on us.  Your turn now, I thought.  Serves you right!  I hope you can hear all these lovely succulent sounds, too!  Having been frustrated for so long, I was in the process of preparing myself for a pretty serious orgasm, when Carmelita suddenly relinquished my bursting member.  I opened my eyes in surprise.  She unbuttoned my belt purse and pulled out a condom.
“Aha!  This is what I need.”
Expertly she rolled it on, pulled up her skirt, and straddled me.  Billy watched, horrified.
“Have you done this before?”
“N-no.  It’s my first time.”
“Well, enjoy.”  And with that she sank slowly down on me, with a sigh of pleasure.  I slid into her effortlessly.  She closed her eyes, and, sitting back, began to squeeze me rhythmically.  I tried to fight back the inevitable climax, but she must have realised I could not hold on long, because all at once she began to pump with firm regular thrusts of her pelvis.  She grabbed two handfuls of my stretchy spandex top.
“These are my reins,” she gasped, “you are my pony, and this…. this is called the rising trot!”  And, much to the fascination of the onlookers outside, she proceeded to ride me as if she was in the saddle, sitting very straight and moving up and down with controlled regularity, eyes closed in silent elation.
My orgasm was the most explosive I had ever experienced.  I cried out loud, and hit the wooden edge of the bunk with my fist in the intensity of my ecstasy.  It seemed to last for ages, but Carmelita maintained her disciplined motion until my convulsions ceased and my body went limp.  Then she allowed herself to sink gently forward on top of me, planting a soft, lingering kiss on my lips, and cupping my head in one hand.  We lay there for several minutes, unmoving.  My eyes were closed and I no longer knew if we were being watched.  Eventually she slipped off me and knelt on the floor by my side. 
“There.  All’s fair now.  But this” – he she carefully removed the full condom – “is mine!”
I heard her unlock and open the door.  There was some murmured conversation, then silence.

I must have fallen asleep for a few minutes.  When I woke, there was no-one to be seen.  I sat up, and after a few minutes climbed off the bunk, adjusted my clothes, and made my way to the door, which was ajar.  I walked across the garden to the house.  The kitchen was empty, and I found everyone except Carmelita in the dining room, sitting around the table.  Billy looked at me with a wry smile.
“I’ve got the fifty pence now, but you don’t look as though you’re even worth that any more.”
I slumped into an armchair, exhausted.
“Difficult client, Sim?” asked Tamsin with a smile.  “It happens, in your profession.”
“Where is she?”
“Gone to the shower.  She’ll be down in a minute,” said Rebecca.  “You can use the shower in my bathroom if you like.”
“Yeah, thanks.”  And I went out and climbed the stairs wearily.

When I came down, Carmelita was there, as fresh as a daisy.  She had changed into jeans and a jumper.  Her feet were bare.  She smiled at me with utter insouciance.
“Hi Sim.  Nice shower?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“Me too.  I’m feeling a bit hungry now.”
“What an appetite!” laughed Tamsin.
“Any profiteroles left, Rebecca?”
“No!  You ate the last one.  But there are a couple of chocolate eclairs in the fridge.”
“That’ll do.”  And she jumped up and trotted into the kitchen.
“Boys,” said Rebecca, “obviously you’ll be staying tonight.  I’ve asked a friend over tomorrow morning, and I was wondering whether you’d be able to meet her.”
“Well, I don’t have to be back till about three thirty,” I said, “but I have a dance lesson with Miss Morel at school in the evening.”
“Really?”
“Yes.  They’ve signed me up for the freshers’ show.  I daren’t skip the lesson.  Miss Benson will punish me if I do.”
“Oh, yes.  I think she mentioned it to me.  Pity Billy couldn’t appear too.”
“Yes, that’s a point,” I mused.  “Could you, Billy?  It would be evening, anyway.  Just for moral support?”
“I dunno,” said Billy, “Let’s talk about it later.  But about tomorrow.  I have to be back by three to pick up Robert – that’s my kid brother, Madam.  So I guess we could stay till two.  Who’s your friend?”
“She’s headmistress of St. Catherine’s School.  That’s a private girls’ school just along the lane.  I wanted her to meet you two.  She should be here about ten.  You could stay for lunch and leave in plenty of time.
“I’ve got a bike carrier in the car,” said Tamsin.  I could drive you back. It’d be quicker.”
“Thanks,” we chorused.
“Where’s that Carmy got to?” said Rebecca.
“Here she is,” said Tamsin, “with yet another plate of food.”
Carmelita came over and sat at the table.  “Sorry, I had to whip the cream.”  She put down her plate, on which was a large eclair topped with chocolate and capped with a big blob of cream.  She began to eat it with a spoon, savouring every mouthful. 
“Miss Greedy!” laughed Rebecca, reaching over and scooping up some of the cream with her finger.  She put it in her mouth.  Her expression changed immediately.  She stared at Carmelita.
“You haven’t!  I don’t believe it!  You are such a naughty girl!”
“It’s too good to waste, Rebecca,” grinned Carmelita, swallowing another mouthful and licking her lips.  And anyway, it’s good for you!”

Billy and I went to bed soon after.  Rebecca found us a pair of soft, short nighties and matching loose knickers.  We had planned some games if we stayed over, and also we wanted to talk, but in the event we were both so tired we just fell asleep in each other’s arms.  I vaguely remember someone coming into the room and tucking us in.  But I knew no more until morning.

[krystalasbaby2017]

The ladies like using the little sissies.  Seems like they both had fun.  Looking forward to the Head Mistress coming over from St. Catherines

[Simonssister]

Chapter XXI:  Redress (Part 6, An Offer We Can’t Refuse?)

I woke early in the morning.  The curtains must have been open last night.  The sun flooded the bedroom and turned Billy’s skin to gold and made the down on his lip and arms sparkle.  I regarded him with awe, glorying in the feeling that this angelic creature actually loved me.  Me!  I felt unworthy of such an honour.  It seemed too wonderful a thing to be true. 
I lay there for some time, thinking.  I want to remember what I thought, but the train of ideas has evaporated.  I know I started thinking about that poem Sandra had recited to me.  I was wondering which stanza was appropriate to me.  “Love seeketh not itself to please” or “Love seeketh only self to please.” Was that it?  I could flick back these pages to quote it verbatim but it doesn’t matter.  That is what I started thinking about.  I imagined that Billy had met someone else, probably another guy, who felt about him as I did, and he wanted to leave me and go off with him.  How would I react?  Of course I would be crushed, torn apart with pain and jealousy.  But I knew quite clearly and certainly that I would stand back and let him do what he wanted.  I would actually conceal my pain to free up his decision.  I love him enough to want him to be free and happy whatever the cost to me.  That seemed something, anyway.  Then I thought about the mystery of love.  The mystery is not something universal, as people always claim, but something belonging to each individual relationship.  I hate the desire to generalise about it.  It just obscures what is real and true.  In the context of our love, our little games with Carmelita, for instance, were irrelevant.  I knew neither of us felt real resentment, and that momentary frisson of jealousy was merely a light seasoning of our passion for each other.  I decided that for me sex is delightful, but meaningless unless in the context of my love, when it became a necessary and ideal confirmation of regard.  It was not an index of affection, or a statement of commitment.  Sex with Billy was almost a statement of self-effacement; with others an irresistible, inescapable quest for quietude.  I understand why the poets thought sex close to death. 
The worst thing, I thought, is the implication that sex for its own sake is ‘bad’ - immoral or even evil.  So for many people, sexual feelings have to be hidden, and even generate guilt.  How can such a lie persist?  Should it be allowed to cripple lives?  Do not the damaging or aggressive sexual acts often have their origins in a misguided moral rigidity which can only be evaded by secrecy, and which causes pathological resentment and the desire to revenge oneself on perceived normality?  I can’t remember all my thoughts now.  They seemed very rational and clear at the time.  But I should return to my narrative.
 When Billy woke, which he did easily and quietly, and smiled, almost laughed, at seeing me, I knew his love for me also was real.  We kissed as if after a long absence, and then indulged our passion until we were sated.  Lying side by side in that quiet room we talked with great seriousness of matters inconsequential to anyone but ourselves, until we heard noises downstairs and were brought back to mundane concerns.  We showered and dressed in our ordinary clothes and went down to breakfast.

The ladies were already seated at the breakfast table, looking smug and rather too pleased with themselves.
“Nice sleep, guys?” asked Tamsin.
“Yes, thank you,” replied Billy.
I looked at them closely.  I suspected…  But never mind.  We sat with them, and Carmelita brought us croissants and jam and cups of coffee.  I felt euphoric.  It was the feeling of loving and being loved when it finally comes home to you.  You wallow in it, like rolling in the shallows of a warm sunlit sea.  I will never forget that first morning I experienced that sensation.  But to continue.
“My friend will be her at ten, boys.  Her name is Antonia Mortimer.  She’s been headmistress of St. Catherine’s for four years.  She’s very highly regarded.  I believe she has a proposition for you.  I have no idea how you’ll react, but please hear her out.”
“A proposition, Madam?”
“Yes, Billy.  I’m not going to say any more.”
We looked at each other with puzzlement.  What possible proposition could it be, from someone who’d never even met us?
“She knows a little about you.  It’s not completely arbitrary.”

Miss Mortimer was punctual to her hour.  Rebecca conducted us into a front room, and we shook hands.  She was a woman of Rebecca’s age, tall and intelligent looking, with short dark hair and blue eyes, dressed in a blue trouser suit.  Every inch a headmistress, I thought.
We all four sat down.  After some small talk, from which I gathered Rebecca and Miss Mortimer had known each other since university, she addressed us direct.
“I won’t waste your time, boys.  I should explain that St. Catherine’s is a small, fee-paying, private girls’ school.  We have seven years, with between twenty and twenty-four girls in each year.  The two sixth forms have twenty girls each.  We are partly charitably funded.  Some of those charities, perhaps influenced by government guidelines or current educational thinking, have put a certain amount of pressure on the trustees, of which I am one, to make some sort of gesture towards co-education.  The trustees were reluctant to adopt this suggestion, but the threat of a reduction in our funding has persuaded them to agree to a small intake of boys at sixth-form level, by way of experiment.  The figure of ten percent has been agreed, which amounts to two boys – I hope you worked that out for yourselves” she smiled, “- two boys in the lower sixth this year.”  She looked from one to the other of us to let this sink in, before continuing. 
“Now, personally I oppose this move.  I see no advantage in introducing boys at this stage, and many disadvantages.  But my hands are tied, and I need to resolve the matter urgently.  That is not to say I am approaching you, Simon, and you, Billy, as any sort of last resort.  You both come with very high recommendation form your respective schools.  Yes, I have been in touch with both your headteachers.  I have seen your reports, and you are clearly both highly intelligent, and in recent times at least,” (looking at me), “well socialised.  Most important in my estimation is your natural gentleness of manner and regard for the female sex.  I believe the ingress of certain types of adolescent male would be disastrous for St. Catherine’s.  I do not consider either of you fall into that category.”
“You’re offering us places at St. Catherine’s?” I asked, astonished.  “What about fees?”
“You will pay no fees.  Your education will be entirely funded by the trustees.  You will also receive a travel and uniform allowance, and free meals.  You will be eligible for free board if you wish.  We have a small proportion of boarders already.”
Billy and I stared at each other in disbelief.
“But before we go any further, we’d have to ask our parents,” said Billy.
“Of course.  I have already written to your mothers.  I wouldn’t have considered conducting this interview without their permissions.”
“They’ve agreed?” I asked.
“They both readily agreed to my interviewing you and making the offer.  I have spoken to them both, and they are prepared to leave the final decision to yourselves.  You realise that as you are now of age, the choice of school is ultimately your decision to make.”
“Excuse me interrupting, Antonia,” said Rebecca.  I just wanted to say, boys, that St. Catherine’s is recognised as one of the top secondary schools in the Midlands.  It has outstanding results and a wonderful staff.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that, Rebecca, but that should not be the first consideration.  We want you to be happy and fulfilled.  Obviously, you can’t make a decision now.  Would it be possible for you to come and visit one day next week?  A couple of the senior girls would be happy to come in for the day to show you round, so you could at least get the feel of the place.  If after that you were still interested, we would arrange a four-week trial period at the start of next term.  Only then would I ask for a final decision.  If at any time you decided it was not for you, you could go back to your old schools.”
“But then what of your co-education experiment?”
“Then we would have tried, but we would be justified in postponing it for a term or even a year.  You’d have no obligation to us whatsoever.”
“Miss Mortimer.” I hesitated.
“Yes, Simon?”
“How much do you know about us?  Do you know we…we often dress as girls?”
“I do know that, yes.”
“Has that influenced you?”
“Well, it would be dishonest to say it hasn’t.  But only insofar as it demonstrates a feminine side to your nature, which I believe would aid your acceptance by your peers.”
“I mean, would you expect us to dress as girls in school?”
“I don’t know whether I would anticipate it.  I certainly would not require it.  You would have a uniform, of course, but whether you wore a skirt or trousers would be your choice.  We have a very liberal attitude to gender dressing, and I think it is universally accepted that girls may now wear trousers and boys skirts if they wish.  I am not asking you to pass yourselves off as girls, or adopt female personae.  But if you wished to do so, that would not be a problem.  I would only say I would favour consistency.”

At this point, Carmelita appeared with a tray of coffee.  I needed to talk to Billy alone.
“Do you mind if we…?”
“Please, go ahead.  I understand you will need to discuss it properly.”
We left the room and headed for the garden.  Once outside, we looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“What do you think, Sim?”
“I’m tempted.  I could get away from Miss Benson, from all those nosey little first years, and some of those stupid macho blokes in my class.  I’d miss Alice, though.  What about you?”
“I’d go for it in a moment if you would.  My school’s horrible compared to yours.  I’m sure I’m going to get beaten up over that video on the first day!”
“Shall we do the visit then, and see what we think?  You heard what she said – we can get out of it any time.  And we can meet a couple of the girls and see what they’re like.”
“Deal!  I wonder what the uniform’s like?”
“Trust you!  Whatever it’s like, I’m sure it won’t be frilly and frothy enough for you!”
“Shut up!  It won’t be tarty enough for you, either!”
“That was a one-off, Billy.  My sole intention was to get you away from Carmelita and closer to me!”
“Oh, really?  Epic fail, then, slut!”

The upshot was, we agreed to meet Miss Mortimer at St. Catherine’s the following Tuesday.  I don’t think either of us really believed the transfer would ever happen, but it was an exciting diversion, anyway.  We fantasised about it all the way home in Tamsin’s car.
“I hope it works out, boys”, she said as she dropped us off.  “You’d be near Rebecca’s and we’d see a lot of each other.  We have so much more to show you!”

[krystalasbaby2017]

Oh i love to see two sissies in an all girls school.  I really hope they choose the skirts as that is what every sissy should wear.

[Simonssister]

Chapter XXII:  Billy’s First Day  (Part 1, Billy’s Dream)

Oh, if only I could have been there with my video recorder to capture Simon’s first full sexual encounter!  All we have is a rather short vid from Tamsin’s phone taken through the window of the summer house.  They’ve already got started , but at least we can appreciate Carmelita’s skill in the saddle and we do get to see that amazing climax.  Poor Simon nearly bucked her off in his frenzy!  What they did get, however, was a beautiful record of the boys in bed in the morning, quite unconscious they were being filmed in full HD.  Rebecca’s not so stupid as to let that one slip by.  There are as many hidden cameras upstairs in that house as there are in the dungeon!

Saturday 6 August.  Billy’s first day at Holly End.  We arrived early and reported to Sue in her office.
“Welcome, both of you.  Billy, welcome to Holly End.  How are you feeling?”
“Fine, thank you.”
“Simon.  How do you feel about working with your new colleague?”
“I’m happy he’s here, of course.  But I have to admit I don’t fully understand the practicalities.  I mean, as the salon is arranged, there’s really only room for one of us to work at a time.”
“Quite.  But I’m not planning to have you both cleaning boots at one time.  I’ve been thinking for some time about ways to expand the business, and as soon as I heard about Billy I started putting my ideas into effect.  Come with me, please.”
She led us out of her office and along the corridor.
“Simon, you remember the old tack room that used to be in here before we moved it outside?”
“Yes…”
We arrived at the door.  It was no longer a drab brown, but had been repainted in a shiny pale blue.
“Voila!”  She threw open the door and clicked a switch.  The dirty old tack room had been transformed.  The walls were painted pink.  The floor was tiled in a pale blue.  The ceiling sparkled with downlights, some giving a faintly pink-tinted light.  Around the edges of the room were pillar-box red benches, and at the near end a row of three changing-rooms, through the open doors of which I could see red seats and long mirrors.  And along the length of the room ran two rows of shining chrome clothes-racks, hung with every variety of girls’ dresses!
“Wow!” exclaimed Billy, “That’s amazing!”
“Gosh, Sue!  It really is!  What’s the idea?”
“We’re going to start selling girls’ clothes.  I hope!” she smiled.  I walked in and surveyed the rows of satin, lace and general froth.  I noticed one section marked ‘Accessories’, with everything a girl could desire neatly laid out for inspection.  Billy made his way straight to it.
“I thought maybe you wanted to give Billy a glimpse of heaven!” I grinned.  “But it is impressive, I have to admit.”
“Well, this is where Billy comes in.  This is my idea.  Tell me what you think.”
“Go on.”
“You carry on as usual, but Billy will be your assistant and will also attend to the customers’ other needs, coffee, maybe manicure. Stuff like that.  My friend Janice – I think you met her at Harriet’s party – has offered to train him.”
“Cool!” exclaimed Billy, delightedly.
“But Billy” – she looked at him meaningfully – “Billy will be the girl.  His main function will be to model all the clothes we have in stock here in smaller sizes.  You know how many of our customers bring their little daughters with them.  The theory is, that when they see Billy all dressed up they’re going to want what he’s wearing, and, we hope, will drag their mothers up to our new shop here.  What do you think?” 
I could see Billy’s eyes shining at the prospect, as he wandered up and down in a dream feeling all the satins, silks and brocades.
“I think….I think you’re going to make Billy very happy!  But no, I think you may really be onto something here.  You’re right about the little daughters.  And they’re all such princesses. They’re bound to love this stuff.” 
“You could call it the ‘Princess Lounge’, suggested Billy.
“Brilliant!” said Sue, “That’s perfect.  We’ve been mulling over names for days!”
I examined the merchandise.  “This is really good quality, Sue.  It must have cost quite a lot.  Where did you source it?”
“Oh, I have a contact in the trade.  This is the sort of quality it’s difficult to find online.  It costs a bit more, but I’m going to keep our margins to a minimum.  What’s most important at this stage is getting ourselves established.  Let’s face it, we’re making our money from the salon, now.  That’s what has financed all this, and it’s largely thanks to you.”
“Yes.  That’s the key.  I think this could work.  The customers we’re getting now are all pretty well-heeled – you need to be, to keep horses – but they’re also smart, they understand quality, and they don’t throw money away.”
“Yes.  We thought of opening a tack shop, but we would need to build new premises for that.  This room is big, but not big enough for stuff like saddles and all the rest.  So this is our idea. And Billy would be our perfect salesman!  If he agrees.”
“Oh yes please, Miss!  I can’t think of anything I’d like to do more!”
“Look at him,” I laughed, “like a kid in a…in a dress shop!  Now you not only get to wear this stuff, but you actually get to model it too.  You can show off to your heart’s content, and instead of being ridiculed you’re going to be worshipped!”

We retired to Sue’s office, Billy still in a state of euphoria. 
“So.  Where are we?  Billy – do you fancy getting started today.  You don’t have to do anything fancy.  You can really just hang around and offer the clients coffee, or play some music on the CD player.  You’re fully booked, but I don’t know if there are going to be any prospective customers.  In any case, the shop won’t be open until next weekend.  It’s going to be staffed by some of the girls most of the time.”
Billy looked momentarily disappointed.
“Oh, don’t worry.  You can have a turn too, when you’re free – which won’t be very often.
Now about tomorrow.  Simon, you’ve got a couple of customers in the morning, but at eleven Miss Faversham and Miss Mitchell are going to call in, and they’d like a word with you.  So I’ve left that hour free.”  I grimaced.  “Billy.  Janice is coming round at ten, and she’s going to start your makeover lessons.  You can use the other office where Simon used to change.”
“Great!”
“In the afternoon I’ve booked in a Ms Jacquetta Wright and friend?  I believe you know her?”
“Er, sort of.”  Billy and I looked at each other.
“I gather it’s an interview rather than an appointment, but she was happy to pay, anyway.  She said might have some plans for you two, but she’s promised to discuss them with me first, so there’s no conflict of obligation.  You performed a little show, boys?”  We nodded.  “I’ve heard about it, but I’ve not got around to watching it yet.  I seem to have a backlog of things to watch!” she added, mischievously.  I looked at her questioningly,  but she only returned an innocent smile.
“Let me see, what’s the time?  Ooh, time you boys were getting ready.  Billy, as it’s your first day, why don’t you choose any dress from the costume room?  Starting next weekend, I will be choosing your outfit, of course.  Simon.  You’ll find yours in your bag behind the door.  You have a couple of clients this morning.  I can’t remember who they are at least one repeat I think.  Should be pretty routine, but Billy can practise his twirls.”

We scurried off to get our costumes.  While Billy was pondering on the respective merits of a yellow party dress and an exactly similar one in salmon pink, I took a peek at my outfit.  Oh, no!  Super embarrassing.  A little short girl’s top, with “Hello Pretty” in silver script on yellow background dotted with tiny red hearts.  Yellow lace-trimmed ankle socks with red Mary Janes.  A yellow open cap.  Little yellow latex shorts with red frills, fitted with belt loops through which ran a shiny red vinyl belt.  Red plastic clip-ons and a matching necklace.  Yellow latex gloves with red frills to match the shorts. Damn!  Let’s hope we don’t get any of those types who try to take photos, I thought.
“Shall we change here, Simon?” asked Billy, having plumped for the yellow.
“No!  Do you think I’m running the gauntlet of Holly End in these?”  I held up the shorts.
“Ah. No. Maybe not.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
We headed off for the salon.