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?"