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Sissy Slut Tina – the invite Part 2
The door opened and there stood a sub-nosed young Thai who might've been related to the wife of the fellow I was there to see, who wasn't just a she, as there was a bit more there; and that and, her dominating manner had me going back there again.
Yet Mai was away and, Sissy Tina had Needs, to be met. So, I'd phoned and made an appointment with a young woman, I'd not recognised.
`Was this her?' I mused a moment, before following her up a step, through the doorway and into the hall, as she led me with a beckoning finger.
The youngster had turned to me, smiling lightly, dimples appearing in her cheeks. She wore a light summer blue and white gingham dress, elasticated round the non-existent bust and wore nothing else; besides it; light-blue eye-shadow and red lipstick she had artfully applied, I'd found myself wondering.
"You know where to get changed?" She asked and in a stern manner, then giggled.
"Yes mistress," I responded, realizing the sound of her voice was what required.
"Then... go get changed... go get ready," the young Thai instructed; "Don't keep The Headmaster waiting.
I stood at the door to the bathroom and looked back the young Thai, who grinned at me. Then I entered the bathroom already aroused, inside my favourite purple panties, worn reversed as I liked, so that my sex was held in comfort.
I got undressed hurriedly, then looked at myself in the mirror: I looked good, but Sissy Slut Tina would look better.
And, as I donned my pretties, I thought back to the train journey. I had been nervous then. But Sissy Tina had Needs to be met and, an invite to visit. So, I had put on my photochromatic glasses and cap, then coat on; and left the house, my bag of pretty things slung over my right shoulder, then made myself to the station and the train.
I had begun the journey already anxious and, the journey itself did little to help.
On the train, a fellow looked at me from over the aisle and, I knew he knew me. But, while he couldn't recall, I could: the fellow, who looked a bi like you'd imagine a psychologist might, with baldpate, dark-rimmed glasses and a very gentle manner.
And, maybe I'd not the job right, the rest had been wrong, well bar the physical appearance. We'd met on a train, another time. He'd taken me back to his, a home that had only recently been his parents and, their décor was everywhere.
He had led me through the lounge to a back hall, with the main bedrooms, that seemed to belong to the late forties I'd mused, as we'd passed the half-open door; everything was dark wood, the wardrobe, the panelling in the hall, the doors; and, the lockers at the either side of his single bed, covered by a thick quilt covert of rich burgundy.
"Didn't we meet?" the fellow asked.
Yes, we had met. He had sat on the end of that comfortable looking bed and with a wide salacious smile, he had shown me the open wardrobe doors, each with a mirror on the inside, where there was a rack of dresses, of various style and colour.
"Try on whatever you like," he'd said and, I had.
"They were my Mother's," he'd told me, "and, I can't bear with parting with them."
Having looked through the rack of dresses and chosen a slim black number, with a weave of red thread to it.
"You don't mind wearing something of hers?" he'd asked and, feeling the material, I'd turned back to look at him with a smile.
"Play with my nipples as toy fuck me and, I'll wear whatever you want..." I'd told him with a smile.
And there, on the train, he'd been looking at me with recognition showing in his eyes.
He couldn't recall my face though it seemed: I'm not surprised really. He'd either been looking at my body in that dress, or at my butt, as he slid it up, as I bent over his bed, prior to being lubed up, for his entrance to my willing ass-pussy.
I also recall how he'd pulled out, leaving me gripping the quilt-cover, gasping and disappointed, as he'd pulled his trousers up to answer the phone that had rung on and on and one...
Five minutes later he'd returned to the room, to find me fingering my needy hole with two fingers. He'd stood in the doorway and, watched awhile, then had told me to get dressed, as his sister was calling round, his twin sister.
He had risen at Bebington station and as he moved toward me, his curiosity quite evident on his face, as he had approached.
Then, as he had made his way to the doors the fellow had approached me and leant forward a little and, asked in a conspiratorial manner, "Have we met?" There had been real confusion on his face.
And I'd looked at him with a grin, "Yes, but your sister spoiled the main event." The puzzlement on his face as he'd left the train had been priceless.
And Now, here I was, aroused and vulnerable, before this ever-so young looking Thai as I emerged from the bathroom. I wore an apricot coloured knee-length slip, with the most delicate edging and narrow shoulder straps and, I wore thigh-high black self-support hose and, lipstick to complete the Sissy slut Tina feel and somewhat necessarily slutty yet submissive look.
I felt good and, I'll concede to feeling sexy, yet tremulous, as I awaited this diminutive Thai's next instruction, "I am Pak," she told me, "but the Headmaster wants you to call me Mistress Pak, or just Mistress..."
And she giggled, continuing to do so as I followed the distinct waggle to her walk; and, those small bare legs, with little toes that sank into the hallways rich carpeting.
It's as we the door to the study, Pak stops and turns her head to look at me.
"Headmaster won't wait forever; so you go in: he has a surprise, for you... girlyboi," she teases and, then knocks on the door.
"Come in," a deep sonorous voice booms out.
I enter the study with growing trepidation. Without Mai here my expectations were increased a hundred-fold, as I knew not what had been planned for me.
But, I was here to satisfy Tina's growing need for humiliation and pain, so breathing as easily as possible, I walk across the room, moving with a feminine gait. I briefly look round the small room; each wall bar one is filled with shelves of books and there against the window, before the long red drapes, there's an old-fashioned roller-desk.
There he sat behind his desk, much as I recalled him.
The fellow, dressed in a cap and gown, wearing a Harris Tweed jacket, suddenly looked up with a stentorian glare
There was a difference though; The Headmaster wore a wrist-support covering his right wrist and much of his hand, tied together with Velcro fasteners.
"My wife is visiting relatives and, it seems I have tendonitis... but, she would want me to `entertain' you..." He paused, looking me over: "So I asked my niece Pak, who you'll call Mistress, to provide your punishment..."
`The girl?' I balked.
He smiles a little and continues, "And, when I said you could take a good kicking Pak decided to take me seriously. But, she decided to be kind. Notice, she took her shoes off, for you..."
He was right, the girl was barefoot; and, she did have attractive feet, of that there was no question.
"Now, I'm going to watch CSI. Why don't you can get a quick whiskey before she arrives... I'll make sure you get five minutes, or so..."
And, he smirks as he stands; "'Coz I think that you'll be needing it..."