Lydia

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

Most of this story is obviously fiction. However, some of it IS true. Can you guess which parts?

I returned to my job on Monday after taking Friday off when I hadn't felt well, and to my surprise I couldn't unlock my file cabinet. Someone had changed the lock! So I went to the keeper of all such knowledge, Lydia, the department secretary. "Lydia, did someone change the file cabinet lock while I was out?"

Our department has a single secretary that we all use when we need her. Lydia is 24, tall and thin, with dark hair that she wears teased in a complicated tangle of curls and waves that somehow makes it down her shoulders. She is not well-endowed, but makes up for it with her long legs and with skirts that are never quite short enough for my tastes. And a cute face. She always wears mascara and eyeliner, and a little too much blusher. She is a woman who enjoys changing her lipstick shades, from a high gloss frosted pink that seems more appropriate to a 16 year old, to a brick red that gives her a serious in-charge look. And with her sassy personality, she is in charge, and we know not to cross her when we really need her to do something.

"Why, yes, Andy" Lydia replied. "Didn't you read the e-mail note I sent you?" Since I had been out ill on Friday, I guess I hadn't read it. "Because of all the break-ins, all the locks were changed on Friday. Here's your new key."

I thanked her for the key, and I rushed back to my office to try it. It worked. I opened the file drawers, and everything seemed to be in order. Everything. Including a fairly large gym bag.

Sigh. I am a closet crossdresser. My wife does not know, and would not approve. I own a simple skirt and blouse, a pair of low heels, some lingerie, a wig, and some makeup. Once in a while I will wear panties under my suit at work. I don't travel much for work, just a professional convention now and then, but when I go to one I will bring my clothes to dress in the privacy of my hotel room. I am not passable - I look like a guy in a dress. But I love the idea of dressing, the feel of lingerie, the feeling of a skirt. And I love to wear makeup. It is my special fetish. Generally I will watch a little television while I am dressed and made up in my hotel room, and I will masturbate to my own image. It's my little secret. No harm, no foul, right?

For a while I kept my female things at home. A large gym bag seemed like a perfect hiding place. But I was always in fear that my wife would open it one day to wash any dirty laundry, and then I would be found out. So I brought the bag to work and locked it in my file cabinet. Nobody would be going through my file cabinet but me, and even if they did, they would only find a gym bag. So I felt comfortable with this hiding place.

And while my heart skipped a beat about this new change in locks, the bag seemed fine. So I went back to work, and didn't give this a second thought.

I don't get to dress very often, so my gym bag stays closed for a long time. Occasionally I will buy another panty to add to my little collection. Occasionally I will find an ad for a free trial size cosmetic, and as embarrassing as it is, I will go to the mall to get it to add to my little collection.

In fact, that is what happened recently. One of the cosmetics companies put an ad in the Sunday newspaper offering a free trial size lipstick. Since they were nice enough to offer it, I took them up on their offer. A beautifully made up saleswoman waited on me as I fibbed to her that my wife had sent me to pick up their free lipstick. We examined their various shades on the back of her hand - I wished she would have tried them on me and I'm sure I must have blushed as I imagined theses shades on me. I picked a shade called blackberry as something different from anything "my wife" had in her collection, thanked the saleswoman, and left.

The next day I opened my gym bag in the file cabinet to put my new trial sized lipstick away. And there was a little handwritten note on yellow sticky paper: "Please see me immediately; L."

Oh no! Somehow Lydia had opened my gym bag, probably when the locks were changed, and she discovered my secret! She could ruin me! Damn!

But what if I just ignored her note? And what if I simply denied the contents of my bag? What could she really do? And how would she know that I had found her note? I decided to just ignore the note.

I passed Lydia's desk several times that day. I looked for some indication that she knew I had found her note, but she just smiled sweetly at me. Was I blushing? Did she really know? I couldn't be sure.

Of course there was no way I could find out. So I decided to stay as far away from Lydia as I could, hoping she would forget about the note.

This meant doing all of my own typing. But many of us did our own typing anyway. This was not a big deal to me. Until one day I needed to type something with lots of mathematical symbols in it. I had never mastered the math module of the word processor, and I did not have time to master it now. Darn! I was leaving that evening for a three day convention. I would have to approach Lydia.

"Uh, Lydia? Would you type something for me? I'm going to need it before I leave for the convention tonight."

"Why sure, Andy," she replied with a twinkle in her eye. "I can do this in no time at all. But you know, Andy, you never got back to me on that little note I left for you. You know - in your gym bag?"

I'm sure I blushed beet red at the thought of Lydia having found my stash of female clothes. I considered denying it when Lydia piped up with "I made a copy of one of your bills - from a mail order company. So don't even think of insulting me by denying anything." I swallowed a large gulp of air as I waited to hear what might come next. "Why don't you take me out to lunch? I have a few things I want to talk to you about."

So I took her to lunch. Mine is not the kind of job where I can pay for a secretary's lunch and charge it to an expense account, but I figured I had better see what she wanted to talk about. We went to a nice place. I ordered some wine for us, but she would only drink club soda. We made small talk about work and about her husband, and after a while my glass of wine made me feel a little more relaxed. That's when Lydia got a little more commanding.

"Andy, DEAR." She would never address me as 'dear' under normal circumstances. "Remember when we changed the locks on the file cabinets? You were sick that day, so I had to use my key to open yours. That's when I saw your gym bag. And I wondered what could be so important that a gym bag would be kept in a locked file cabinet. So I opened your gym bag. I saw everything."

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

Lydia went on. "So you like to dress up as a woman, Andy? That's not so terrible. A harmless little fantasy. I won't tell anyone ... "

I sighed a breath of relief.

" ... if you let me see you when you're dressed. Do you look pretty when you're all dressed, Andy?"

"Well, uh, I ... ," I stammered. "No, I really look awful dressed. And I'd be too embarrassed to ever let you see me."

"I could help you to look better," Lydia offered. "I think I have a good clothes sense, don't you think?" And without waiting for an answer, she followed that question with, "And I'm sure I could help you with makeup. Blackberry lipstick? Are you going for the vamp look? Come on now!"

I blushed deeply. As I had a moment to collect my thoughts, I decided I could never allow this to happen. "No Lydia, I won't let you see me dressed."

Lydia smiled at me. "Now Andy. I don't want to be cruel here. But let's not forget I have a copy of one of your mail order bills. So you shop at a large woman's store? I can photocopy that bill and send it around in the inter-office mail, you know."

"As I said, Andy, I don't want to be cruel. OK, I can see it would be too embarrassing for you to dress in front of me. How about this: what if you went somewhere where they dressed you, and had a picture taken? I bet if you had a professional makeup job done, no one would recognize you. Then I would be satisfied and you would remain anonymous."

This sounded like a pretty fair compromise. "But I don't know any place like that," I whined.

"Oh, but I do," replied Lydia helpfully. "Glamour Shots. They do makeovers, glamorous clothing, and photos. I bet if I called, they would do you up as a woman. I guarantee they would make you up to be so pretty that no one would recognize you. And I happen to know there is one right near the convention. Why don't you think about which way you'd rather do this, letting me see you all dressed, or going to Glamour Shots by yourself and bringing me a picture? I need to go to the ladies room. When I come back, I want your answer."

Lydia took her purse and got up to visit the ladies room. There was no way I would dress in front of her. But Glamour Shots? Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Hey, it might even be fun.

Lydia came back and sat quietly, waiting for me to talk first. "OK, you win," I announced reluctantly. "Glamour Shots it is."

She smiled at me triumphantly. "It will be an experience you won't forget, Andy," she said.

And then her face got serious. "OK, dear, but you have some work to do first. You are going to have shave about an inch of hair down your chest, or else your chest hair will show from the neckline. You won't be wearing a shirt buttoned at the neck, you know. And you'll have to shave the hair off your hands, a little past the wrists. We can't have that showing either.

I considered for a moment how I would explain this at home, but before I could object Lydia followed up with, "And your eyebrows really need some work, too. You were going to get a haircut after lunch anyway. I want you to have them wax your eyebrows while you are there."

Before I could open my mouth to complain, Lydia said, "Now don't worry, I just want them to clean up the little hairs below your eyebrows. You really will look a lot neater, even if you weren't going to Glamour Shots. Agreed?"

"Well, OK, Lydia."

Lydia continued. "I want you to do one more thing for me. I want you to be in the right mood for the makeover and the clothes and the photos. I want you to go into the men's room right now and put these panties on." And with that she handed me a crumpled pair of black lace panties. They were warm and slightly pungent. That's when I realized she must have taken them off when she went into the ladies' room. "Put them on, dear, and give me your underpants so I know you're wearing them.

I'll wait for you outside the men's room door." And she stood up, waiting for me to go.

I don't know why, but I followed her command. They were too small, of course, but they were silk and they felt wonderful against my skin. I emerged from the men's room and handed her my underpants, hoping no one would see the transaction. I paid the bill, and we left to return to work.

When she got back to her desk, Lydia wanted me to listen while she telephoned Glamour Shots to make an appointment for me.

"Hello, my name is Lydia. Do you have any appointments available for this evening?" I held my breath, hoping the answer would be 'no'. "You do? Seven-thirty? Yes, that would be fine." She grinned at me wickedly.

"Oh no, it's not for me, it's for a guy named Andy. I'm his secretary, and I'm requiring him to go. You do guys, right?

Uh huh. That's right. Oh no, I think you misunderstand. I want you to make him up and dress him as a woman."

There was a long pause at the other end of the phone conversation. Then Lydia continued.

"Oh, you have done guys as women, before? Great! What does he need to bring? A wig, OK. And false eyelashes? Hmm, I wouldn't have thought of that. And you supply large size clothes above the waist, right?"

Lydia started to get creative. "Will you do his nails, too? No, you don't do nails? Darn. OK, I'll have him take care of that himself." This was getting more complicated, and I was liking it less and less. "OK, so we're set for seven-thirty?" Then to me, "Andy, they need your credit card number." I reluctantly gave it to her to read over the phone. "And one last thing: Feel free to tease him and embarrass him as much as you like. Have a good time with him! Bye."

Lydia's eyes positively sparkled with mischievousness. She had me, but good, and she knew it. "Oh Andy, I only wish I could go with you on your convention to be there with you." This Glamour Shot thing was going to be embarrassing enough; thank goodness she wasn't going there with me!

"Now Andy, don't forget I want you to get your eyebrows waxed when you get your haircut. And pack your wig. I happen to know you have one in your gym bag, right? And you need to go to a drug store to buy false eyelashes and really red nail polish. They said they wouldn't do your nails, so you will have to do them yourself. Do them in your car, just before your 7:30 appointment. And when I see your pictures, if you left out the eyebrow waxing, or the false eyelashes, or the nail polish, well, then our deal is off and I will send that copy of your mail order bill around to everybody. Get it?" I nodded, shamefacedly.

"Then get back to work, dear. You have a couple of more hours before you need to leave."

I did have a couple of more hours, but I could barely concentrate I felt so embarrassed about what Lydia had set me up for. I sneaked out when she wasn't looking so I wouldn't have to face her one more time that day.

I had planned to get a haircut, although I usually go to one of those nine dollar haircut places. That barber would laugh me out if I asked about eyebrow waxing. I knew of a unisex salon; they would probably do it. I went there, and they did have an opening for a haircut. I sat in the chair and the stylist was a cute brunette about 25. We made small talk and then I asked her, "Uh, I'm having some photos taken. Would it be possible to have someone remove a little hair from under my eyebrows?" "You mean, like have them waxed?," she asked. "Sure, we have someone who will do that for you." And when the haircut was finished, she showed me to a backroom.

A very pretty redheaded girl, also about 25, sat me down, and asked me what I wanted. She was lovely. Long dark eyelashes, and beautifully shaped and groomed eyebrows. I was wondering whether she colored those eyebrows or not. She leaned my head way back in the chair, and started painting a hot goop under my eyebrows. "Is it too hot?," she asked. I replied 'no'. She then placed some long paper-like strips on my eyes. "Do you like my eyebrows?," she asked, "because in a moment yours will look just like mine." And before I could respond she quickly yanked the strip of paper off my left eye, and then did the same with my right. The speed of the whole thing shocked me, and my eyes stung. "She smiled at me as her words sunk in. "Only kidding - I just took a tiny bit off you," she said. She then leaned in very close with a tweezers and removed a few more stray hairs. "There - take a look." I did. They looked quite a bit neater, and she had not done feminine arches at all. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I paid my salon bill and tipped the stylist and the eyebrow waxer. Next stop was the drug store. False eyelashes and nail polish. Really red nail polish, I seem to recall. OK, that wasn't hard to find. And although Lydia didn't volunteer it, I bought nail polish remover too. I knew just enough that it didn't come off with soap and water. False eyelashes were a little harder to find. There wasn't a huge display like the nail polish. I had to ask. A young girl looked like she worked there, maybe 16, with dark red, almost black lipstick. "Uh, where would I find false eyelashes?" She gave me a funny look, like what was I doing buying false eyelashes, but she showed me where they were. I picked out a pair, paid for my purchases, and left the store. Then I drove the two hour drive to the convention site.

I checked in at the hotel, dropped off my bags, and put my wig and my new purchases in a shopping bag. I had just enough time to shave my face, and also my hands and an inch off my chest as Lydia said. Shaving the backs of my hands up to my wrists was a new sensation. They seemed so nice and smooth. I couldn't imagine why guys never shave them.

I dressed and put Lydia's panties back on. They did help get me in the right frame of mind for this. I had brought a pair of opaque black thigh high stockings with me, and I figured, what the heck, so I put them on too. I went down to the lobby and asked for directions to the mall where this Glamour Shots was. It was about a twenty minute drive, which would put me there at about 7 PM. I guessed that would give me enough time to put on the nail polish in my car, and still make it for the 7:30 appointment. I arrived at the mall, found the Glamour Shots, and found a nearby parking spot with plenty of lighting. So I opened up the bottle of nail polish. Revlon "Red After Dark" - seems like an appropriate choice! I started stroking it on my nails. Wow - I was startled by the sudden brightness of the color. I tried to be careful not to get the nail polish over anything else. But I was being too careful and was not getting the edges of my nails painted. So I got a little more daring and made sure to get the edges, although in doing so I got a little of my fingers too. Eventually I got one hand done, let it dry, and did the other. And when the second hand dried, it was almost 7:30.

I locked the car and started walking towards Glamour Shots.

The brilliant color was really shocking. Should I walk with both hands in my pockets? No, that would look ridiculous. I tried to walk casually, but with both my hands in fists so that only the nails of my thumbs and pinky fingers would show. No one looked too closely, and this worked OK.

I entered Glamour Shots. There were two receptionists, but they were both busy talking to customers. I waited patiently. Then one of them finished and asked if she could help me. "Hi. I'm Andy, and I have a 7:30 appointment," I said. She looked at her clipboard and found my name. "Yeah, here you are. Would you fill out this form and then we'll get you started?"

So I reached for her paper, and of course my brightly polished nails came right into her view. She smiled a huge smile as she saw them, then looked at her clipboard again. She must have thought to herself, "so this is the one who wants to be done as a woman?," but she said nothing to me. I filled out the form and gave it back to her. Then she brought a very cute young woman over to me and introduced her as Vanessa. "Vanessa will do your makeup, Andy."

Vanessa was maybe 20. Short, straight blonde hair, long, long eyelashes, makeup that appeared a little too thick to me, and full and lightly glossed lips. Very cute. She wore a miniskirt with black tights and heels. She smiled and reached out her hand to me. Then she saw my nail polish.

"Oooh, look at this girls," she said to the other makeup artists. Isn't this just so precious?" Already she had me blushing. "But Sweetie, next time you do your nails, try to stay within the lines, OK? So, you want to be a girl?"

I tried to explain, "No, I really didn't want to be a girl, but this secretary Lydia ... ." Vanessa really wasn't interested. "Sweetie, go into the men's room, take your shirt off, and put on one of those tube tops so that it covers your titties. That's what all the girls wear." There didn't seem to be much point in refusing, so I did. Then Vanessa sat me down in her chair.

I looked around. There was a huge mirror, with all sorts of bottles and powders and brushes. There was a chair to my left, but it was empty. There was also a chair to my right, and sitting in it was a very pretty blonde woman who was having her makeup done by another makeup artist. The other makeup artist introduced herself to me as Janey, and introduced her blonde client as Francine. Francine looked at me in my tube top and my painted nails, and you could see she was disgusted with me. I said "hi" to both of them, and told Francine I thought she was very pretty. She did not acknowledge me, feeling that my opinion was of no importance to her.

Vanessa started working on me. She asked what kind of image I wanted. The choices were basically between a natural look and a glamour look. Somehow natural didn't seem to make sense, and I had an awful feeling that Lydia wouldn't like that after seeing the pictures, and would make me go back for glamorous anyway. So I chose glamorous. I asked to have a few moles and things covered up, and I asked if she could narrow what I consider my too broad nose. Vanessa said "no problem," and merrily worked away.

She sponged on foundation in what she called a medium light olive shade. She kept sponging and blending until I was amazed how even my face looked. She applied a translucent powder to set the foundation. She applied some dark brown powder to the sides of my nose, which she explained would shadow and narrow it. She lengthened my eyebrows and gave a slight arch to them with a dark pencil. She applied more shades of eyeshadow than I could keep track of, both dark and light shades, giving me dramatic, deep set eyes.

Meanwhile as the other makeup artists would pass by, they all made a point of saying something to me. "The girl in you is really starting to come out." "His eyes are looking prettier than mine." "You go, girl."

I think Francine, next to me, was getting jealous of the attention I was getting. She was doing some of her own makeup, which I didn't understand - isn't that part of the reason to come to a place like Glamour Shots, so that someone else can do your makeup? I asked her that, but she ignored me.

Meanwhile she was asking all the makeup artists for their advice, including mine. "Should I wear blue eyeliner? Should I wear my hair up?" I asked my makeup artist, Vanesssa, if she would mind getting back to me. I could see Francine getting angry at me, as if her makeup and time were more important than mine, because after all she was the real female.

Vanessa went back to me. She applied some thick black eyeliner to both my upper and lower eyelids. She darkened my eyelashes with thick black mascara, and then called someone else over to attach my false eyelashes. This was a guy, who must have been a crossdresser himself, because he said my false eyelashes were much shorter than the ones he wears. He glued my false eyelashes on me, which really weighed my eyes down.

A guy in a suit appeared next to Francine, apparently her boyfriend. She called him David. Apparently she and David were going to be in some pictures together. David must have arrived through another door, since nobody had seen him here. He was wearing a small amount of foundation, so he must have had his makeup sitting, and wanted Francine's advice on which tie he should wear.

David started teasing Francine, asking how much longer she would need to be in the makeup chair - it hadn't taken him that long. Now Francine, despite the fact that she had done her own mascara and eyeliner, really looked gorgeous, in my humble opinion, although David had not acknowledged that. Francine didn't say anything in response to David, and I felt kind of badly for her. So I said, "sometimes guys don't realize how long it takes to look nice for them." I meant this more as a little support for Francine, but David really scowled at me, probably thinking that I was gay and that I was being made up so I would look nice for some guy!. I don't think Francine appreciated my remark either.

One of the other makeup artists got into the act too, telling David "You'd better be nice. Sometimes we have to strap the men down in order to make them up nice."

Vanessa continued on me. Some dark blush, streaked a little too far and not blended enough, making its effect obvious and cheap. Then she looked at my nails and said, "Well, we have to find a matching lipstick color, don't we?" She slowly lined my lips with a pencil and then used a brush to color my lips a serious red in a wet texture. She kept applying more and more lipstick until she was satisfied with the results, and then had me blot my lips with a tissue.

While Vanessa combed out my wig, making it bigger and bigger, I saw Francine again. She was in a dark blue jacket and skirt. With all the sexy clothes they have there, I was amazed someone as beautiful as she would choose that. I couldn't resist saying something to her. "It's so conservative!" She replied in an annoyed tone as if to say it was none of my business, "I'm a lawyer," implying she would damn well wear what she wanted, not my fantasy of what she should wear.

Francine and David went off to the photographer's part of the studio to have their pictures done, while Vanessa put my wig on me. She kept playing with it, making it fuller and fuller, until I had a bigger head of curls than I had ever gotten that wig to look before. Then she sprayed me all over with hair spray, including my face which I'm sure was on purpose for the discomfort of it. The complete look, however, of the wig with the makeup was astounding. It was me in the mirror, but it wasn't me. And I wasn't a bad looking girl!

Then Vanessa showed me the clothes they had. They have blouses and jackets, fake furs, silk wraps, and so on, all for above the waist. There was a selection of extra large sizes, although not as much as for more normal women's sizes. They give you four choices, and you take four photos with each outfit. So we found four outfits and I was about to go into the try-on room to put on the first one when another of the makeup artists came by. Her nametag said Megan. She was kind of heavy, but with a very pretty face and lots of elaborate eye makeup.

"Oh, Vanessa, he's so darling, you did a wonderful job with him." And she held my hand to examine my nails. "I love the nail polish too."

"Thanks, Megan," replied Vanessa. "I really wish I could dress him up all the way, but we don't have dresses here."

Megan looked me up and down. "I have an extra black skirt of mine in the back. I wonder if he would fit in it." And with that Megan and Vanessa hustled me into a back room. Before I could protest they had unbuckled my belt and were sliding my pants down. Of course they saw my panties - wait they were Lydia's panties - and my black stockings.

"Oh look, he really IS a sissy," Megan squealed. "He came prepared with panties and stockings. I bet you have a whole outfit. You should have worn it when you came in. You're loving this whole thing, aren't you?"

They put Megan's black skirt on me, and it fit. Megan also had a pair of her heels in the back too, and although they were a little small they managed to cram my feet into them. Vanessa brought my pants and shoes into the men's room for me. When they put my first change of clothes on me, a brightly colored jacket that they buttoned all the way up, I looked completely like a girl from head to toe!

Then they brought me into the photographer's booth. They introduced me to Staci. Staci was about 19, long straight blonde hair, absolutely no makeup that I could notice although she didn't need any because she was so naturally pretty, and a minidress. Wow - the whole staff at this place was absolutely gorgeous!

Staci smiled at me as Vanessa explained that they wanted these photos to look as pretty and feminine as possible. "No problem, just leave him to me," Staci said with quiet authority.

She picked out some clip on earrings for me, and then started posing me. Throughout the sixteen photos, as she changed me into my other outfits, she put me in the most humiliating feminine poses - blowing kisses at the camera, hand coyly under my chin, twirling with my hair, caressing a necklace, wrist daintily bent, and the worst - batting my eyelashes as I smelled a rose. With each picture she urged me on with comments like, "Oh, that looks so sweet" and "You're doing so well, are you sure you haven't done this before?" Every now and then Vanessa and Megan would come in and admire the computer displays of the photos taken so far and giggle at me. The last outfit was a brightly colored silk wrap. Just a long piece of silk material that they wrapped around me several times, imprisoning my arms inside the material. In fact Staci teased me that she had me in bondage, and that this would make an interesting picture. Finally the photographing part was done. Staci removed my earrings and told me to go into the men's room to remove my clothes and makeup, and then to come back out when I was dressed in my own clothes to choose my photos and settle the bill.

So I went into the men's room, and there was David, Francine's boyfriend. He had removed his suit and was only wearing his underpants, bent over the sink washing the makeup off his face. There was only one sink in the room, so I waited patiently for him to be done. While I was waiting I made some small talk.

"Your girlfriend is really a knockout, you know. I enjoyed watching her get made up for your pictures," I remarked casually.

David seemed to dislike me even more than Francine did. He glared at me as he dried his face with a towel. "You little twirp. You're just a girlie boy. Or worse. You have no right talking about my woman like that!" And with that he snapped his towel at me. It hurt, and I screamed. He snapped it at me again. Meanwhile I was trapped by this damn silk wrap that they had tied around me so I couldn't get my hands free. David laughed at me in my inability to defend myself.

"Hey Francine," David yelled, at his girlfriend who must have been in a nearby room, changing. "Get in here, you have to see this." And with that, Francine entered, with a towel wrapped around her because she was in bra, panties and a slip. David snapped his towel at me some more, in front of Francine, no doubt impressing her with his machismo on my defenseless bound body. "He's such a girlie boy, isn't he? Why don't you do it too?" So Francine removed her towel and started snapping it at me, and they alternated, enjoying hearing me scream and watching me unable to get away from them.

When he had had enough, David said to me, "You know, you ought to apologize to Francine for saying those things about her." I couldn't recall a single thing to be sorry for, but I apologized anyway.

Francine was not satisfied. "You know, he was bothering me the whole time I was being made up. I think we should make him kneel down in front of me to apologize." There was a couch, so Francine sat down to make herself comfortable. David put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me into a kneeling position in front of her. I apologized again. Francine seemed to enjoy her position of power over me and commanded, "Kiss my feet." So I did, grateful that my red lips did not leave lip prints on her feet.

David thought it would be amusing to subjugate me further. "That's enough of that. Now kiss her higher. You know where. Better you than me, that's for sure."

So David, the macho pig, did not believe in giving oral sex to Francine. I on the other hand enjoy doing it. So I kissed Francine in the crotch, through her panties. I tried to push her panties right into her hole. She seemed to enjoy this, and she kicked her panties off, giving me unrestricted access to her pussy. I kissed and licked and sucked her like obviously he had never done to her. She was loving it.

"Oooh, David, I'm getting so horny," she said to him. Meanwhile David had gone out of the room for a moment - and came back with Staci! David whispered something to Staci, and suddenly Staci came back with a camcorder and started filming this! I couldn't believe it! Meanwhile I was tonguing Francine for all I was worth, my arms still bound to my body in that dumb wrap they had tied me into.

"You know, David," Francine said, as she let me come up for air. "You're not the only one who doesn't like to perform oral sex. It grosses me out to do it to you. Let's see the little sissy do it on you." So she sat David down on the couch, pulled down his shorts, and pushed me down in front of him. "Do it, sissy," she commanded me. I shook my head no. "Do it, or I'll have him shove it up your ass instead."

I am not bisexual, and I have never had anything up my ass but my doctor's finger. But I sensed she was serious and it would not be pleasant if he fucked my ass. So I stared at his cock. I resignedly gave it a little lick. It responded to my touch. I licked it again. Francine was cheering me on "Go to it, sissy." I put his cockhead in my lips and rolled my lips over it. It wasn't so bad. I took a little more. I started sucking him a little at a time. The sensation was erotic to me. I took more and more until I was sucking him in earnest. David was loving it, and his cock was getting bigger and bigger in my mouth.

Suddenly David removed his cock from my mouth. He laid Francine down on the couch. He laid me perpendicular to her, with my head under her crotch and her thighs resting on my head.

This gave me access to her pussy again. "Lick her, you sissy," he commanded me. Then he mounted her from the other end of the couch. He started fucking her, with my head under both her pussy and his cock. "Keep licking," he commanded. I was licking her pussy as well as his cock and balls. He kept pumping away, and both of them seemed turned on by the extra stimulation I was providing. Every now and then out of the corner of my eye I saw another figure - Staci. Staci was filming the whole thing! This was so humiliating! David pumped away on Francine until he came. They rested for a minute, on my face, and then let me up. Staci untied me from the dreadful silk wrap, and they all let me go back in the men's room to wipe off my makeup and put my own clothes back on.

It took a long time to get the makeup off. I especially struggled with the eye makeup, and it seemed that eyeliner would never come off. Then I rubbed and rubbed to get the lipstick off. Although the red color came off, my lips were pink from rubbing so much. Then I removed the nail polish too. I dressed and came out.

David and Francine were gone. Staci sat me down and didn't say a word about what had gone on. She showed me computer images of my sixteen photos, discussed prices and how many you can get in various sized units. One each of four different poses sounded plenty to me, and I chose four, with Vanessa and Staci's help as to which made me look the cutest. The photos take about two weeks, and they would mail them. I paid the bill, tipped Vanessa and Staci, and was about to leave.

The phone rang. The receptionist picked it up, and it was for me. It was Lydia! "Well, Andy, did you have a good time? Was it fun?" There seemed no point in telling her all the details, so I said, "Yes it was sort of fun."

Then Staci took the phone from my hand. "Who am I speaking to? Oh, I see. Hi Lydia. This is Staci, the photographer. Yes, he was a wonderful model. The pictures will come out great. Oh, you can't wait to see them? Well, I'll mail them directly to you then. He picked out four. But then I took a few more shots afterward. I'll throw a few of them in too, no extra charge."

Then looking at me, Staci asked, "Won't that be fun when Lydia sees them?"