“You know I accidentally hit the spacebar yesterday when I was typing and the word Therapist became ‘The Rapist’. My mind can't deny the force of its perception that therapists may be considered by some to rape our minds,” Julia Wallace said.

“An interesting insight Miz Wallace, why don’t you take seat,” Susan Bradshaw said, indicating a plush padded armchair.

“Aren’t I supposed to recline on a couch and tell you my darkest secrets,” Julia replied a little cattily.

“If you prefer. I have one right there up against the window,” Susan smiled and indicated an upholstered chaise lounge.

Julia made her way over to the sofa and put her purse on the little table on which sat a box of tissues and a crystal water jug with two matching glasses on coasters. So far it was exactly what Julia had expected a therapist’s office to look like. It was all wood panelling, padded furniture, low lighting and plush carpet. Designed to make the patient feel comfortable and secure she supposed.

Susan Bradshaw appraised her latest client. Julia was tall and elegant, her breasts were proportional to her frame but Susan guessed that Julia had some work done because they were very perky for a woman in her forties. Her waist was slim but her buttocks were rounded, possibly but not necessarily enhanced. Julia’s attractive face was framed by a blonde tease, her lips were full, her green eyes enhanced by eyeliner, mascara and eyeshadow; she wore a little too much makeup for Susan’s taste. Her fingernails had been recently manicured and were painted ruby-red to match her lipstick. Julia was what Susan’s mother referred to as ‘mutton dressed as lamb’.

Susan watched Julia remove her jacket and her high heels, four-inch Louboutin's, her legs were clad in diaphanous, almost transparent nylons, the reinforced toe and ankles giving them away. Julia ran a hand down a shapely calf and smoothed out wrinkles that didn’t exist, before she lifted her legs onto the sofa and lay back, making herself comfortable.

Julia was wearing a stylish red power suit, likely Prada or Dior, it was definitely designer-labelled. Susan Bradshaw also wore a skirt suit, but hers was grey and not designer, nor were her heels Louboutin’s nor was her hosiery as sheer as Rebecca’s. Not that Susan was wearing H&M mind you - Susan’s clothes were stylish and far from cheap, but they were not couture.

Susan settled into a plush seat beside the chaise lounge, smoothing her skirt under her and placed a notebook in her lap and took out her pen.

“You were referred to me by your doctor because you are having trouble sleeping, having nightmares and have a general feeling of being watched and followed, what is sometimes referred to as scopophobia. Is that correct?” Susan began.

“Yes, I suppose that sums it up but they are not really nightmares. They are recollections of things that happened to me in my past. Things I had suppressed but now the memories keep reoccurring,” Julia replied.

Julia’s voice was deep and husky and what some men would consider sexy. The pitch of it reminded Susan of a younger Kathleen Turner as did Julia Wallace’s appearance to some extent.

“Doctor Brigance was reluctant to share much more with me. He said it was best that my judgement not be clouded by preconceptions, which I thought was a little strange,” Susan observed.

“At my request,” Julia said pointedly.

“Okay, so where shall we begin?” Susan sensed an air of entitlement coming from Julia Wallace and couldn’t help being a little pointed herself.

“Let’s begin at the beginning shall we? You’re the psychiatrist, you can tell me to move along or to go back as you see fit,” Julia folded her fingers across her midriff which Susan guessed cattily was flattened by a girdle or Spanx.

“Ok then, let’s start,” Susan poised her pen over her notebook.

“My first recollections are of sitting on the plush carpet in my mother’s rather expansive living room. In my eyeline, everywhere I looked there were ladies legs clad in nylons and they fascinated me. In those days women wore skirts or dresses when they went visiting and unlike the brainwashed young women of today, they always wore hosiery,” Julia began.

“I was fascinated by the lustre of the nylons, by the texture, they seemed exotic and uniquely feminine,” Julia recalled, a fond smile on her face.

“I remember reaching out and tracing the backseam on an older lady’s stocking and mother being totally embarrassed by my actions. She scolded me and sent me to my room. After her little tea party, mother came up to my room and told me that little boys didn’t touch ladies like that,” Julia recollected.

Susan dropped her pen and looked confused until the penny dropped.

“Doctor Brigance also failed to tell me that you are a transgender woman,” Susan, poured water into the glasses to deflect her surprise.

“Oh yes Doctor Bradshaw, I thought it best that I tell you that myself. Is that going to be a problem? You're not some kind of TERF are you?” Julia sniffed.

“Absolutely not. You are not the first transgender person I have treated but it does introduce another dynamic. Transgender women are far more likely to suffer anxiety, depression, self-harm, eating disorders, substance misuse and other problems. People who have gender dysphoria also often experience discrimination, resulting in stress,” Susan tried her best not to sound like she was lecturing Julia.

“Well darling, that sums me up very succinctly. Shall I continue?” Julia had a knowing smirk on her face that unsettled Susan a little.

She picked up her pen and nodded for Julia to continue while she scribbled down some notes.

Julia continued…

*****

Julian Wallace’s fascination with nylon stockings continued to develop until it became a compulsion. There was nothing sexual as yet about his fetish, he was simply mesmerised by sheer hosiery. He knew that he needed to keep his obsession a secret. His mother had told his father about the time that Julian had touched Mrs Tanner on the legs at the tea party and his father had given him ‘a strict talking to’.

So Julian began to collect nylons and hide them. He would take his mother’s discarded nylon stockings from the tidy in her bedroom before the maid could empty it. He would fondle the hosiery, rub them on his body and sniff the remnants of his mother’s perfume and the salty redolence of her feet. At night he would put them on under his pyjamas but they were too big for his scrawny legs and would bag and wrinkle and fall down during the night but they were comforting.

As he got older he also became fascinated with what his mother referred to as ‘foundation garments’: knickers, slips, corsets and ‘step-in’ chemises, which were usually made of silk, crepe de chine, silk charmeuse, satin or nylon. These items were a little harder to acquire and usually required a trip to the laundry basket where he would ‘borrow’ the items for a time and then return them.

Alone in his room he would dress in knickers, stockings and a slip or a step-in and he often slept in them. He knew what he was doing was wrong but he didn’t know why. Why couldn’t boys dress in soft sensual undergarments and wear stockings instead of cotton underpants and scratchy woollen socks?

As she grew older, his sister Belinda stopped wearing cotton knickers, linen petticoats and long woolsocks and was allowed to wear foundation garments similar to those worn by her mother. As Belinda was a year older than Julian, this worked to his advantage because she was a similar size to him so he began to borrow her ‘unmentionables’ without her consent.

In those times children were to be seen and not heard and were hustled away when grownups were talking about ‘grownup things’ and sent to bed early. They were expected to play in the garden during the day and up in their bedrooms in the evening or if it was raining.

Julian preferred his own company and would spend hours in his bedroom luxuriating while wearing his sister’s hosiery, knickers and foundation garments while reading her magazines. He was still prepubescent and there was nothing sexual in his actions, he simply felt right when he wore ladies clothing. He’d shown no interest in sports or male-dominated activities and preferred art, poetry and looking at fashion magazines with Belinda. His father insisted that he take up some ‘manly pursuits’ so he took up tennis and badminton and was forced to join the Boy Scouts.

Of course the inevitable happened. He always locked his bedroom door when he was ‘playing dressup’ as he called it but one day he forgot and Belinda barged into his bedroom and found Julian dressed in one of her satin full-slips, a pair of her nylon knickers and wearing a pair of her discarded nylons.

Of course she burst out laughing and teased him. What was a thirteen-year-old boy doing dressed in ladies undergarments? Julian broke down and sobbed, begging his sister not to tell their mother and father or anyone else for that matter and her love for her brother overcame her surprise and natural inclination to tease him endlessly.

She locked the door and asked Julian to tell her why he was wearing her clothes. He explained to her that he wished that he had been born a girl. He loved women’s clothes and loved all things feminine. He loved the way women deported themselves, their femininity and grace. He adored the softness of their voices, their mannerisms and their pursuit of gentler things.

Belinda had always suspected that Julian was different. Much to the chagrin of their father he often presented effete and had shown no interest in camping, watching football or other manly exploits. Their father had even threatened to send Julian to boarding school to ‘toughen him up’. Belinda was aware of Julian’s gentler side and now she understood why he preferred his own company or hanging out with his sister and her friends.

They made a pact and swore that it would always remain only between them when Belinda decided to help Julian become Julia. They agreed that it needed to be conducted with the utmost secrecy. They would only do it when they had the house to themselves.

Belinda took a strange delight in transforming her brother from a scrawny boy into a pretty girl. And as brother and sister entered their later teens and Belinda was allowed or wear makeup and Julian was allowed to wear his hair longer, ‘Julia’ blossomed. Julian’s features were similar to her own and with a little makeup and teasing of his long locks she could morph his face from that of handsome young man into that of a very fetching young woman.

She taught him how to wear her clothes properly. She even used their pocket money to purchase a pair of high heels that fitted him, which she kept openly in her own closet with no one suspecting that they weren’t hers. Julian soon became adept at transforming himself into Julia and using Belinda's clothes and the cosmetics, hosiery and the heels they had purchased just for him he would spend hours as Julia, sometimes with Belinda but often by himself.

Their parents were social butterflies. Their father spent his evenings at his Gentleman’s Club or took his wife out on the town with friends or business colleagues and their mother was most happy when she was out with her husband or socialising with her girlfriends. Their parents spent most evenings and weekends away from the house and now that their children could look after themselves there was no need to employ a babysitter.

“Look what I found at Sainsbury’s,” Belinda held out several packages that immediately drew Julian’s attention.

“They’re sheer tights and all the girls are wearing them now that hemlines are receding. The American’s call them pantyhose,” Belinda offered Julian a package of the Pretty Polly sheer tights.

Julian removed the cellophane and carefully removed the item which immediately fascinated him. The ‘panty’ part of the garment was seamlessly attached to the sheer stockings. One of the issues that Julian faced when he transformed into Julia, besides the obvious fact that he didn’t have breasts to fill the cups of the brassieres, was the unsightly bulge in his knickers.

Julian had tried hiding his genitals by pushing them back into the crotch of his knickers, especially the tighter pairs, but inevitably they became untucked and often ruined the look he was trying to project. This became even more of a problem when Julian entered puberty when he was plagued by unwanted erections caused by the diaphanous undergarments rubbing on his privates.

As soon as they had the house to themselves Julian began his transformation into Julia and he stepped into the tights, rolled them up his legs and pulled the panty tight around his buttocks and pubis, tucking his genitals between his legs. The tights held everything in place and when he pulled on a pair of satin knickers over the tights he was pleased with the results. Looking in the mirror he had a perfect ‘Vee’ between his legs rather than an unsightly bulge.

Julian had to admit that he preferred stockings to tights but the tights were a godsend as far as providing him with an aesthetically pleasing contour in his pubic area.

Eventually Belinda’s interest in dressing up her brother waned and while she allowed him access to her wardrobe she insisted that he purchase his own clothes. This was inevitable anyway because although Julian had a svelte body his proportions changed considerably. His legs were longer, his shoulders wider and his hips narrower than his sister. Belinda allocated a section of her wardrobe where Julian could keep his clothes, shoes and his makeup kit but her interests were now directed elsewhere.

Belinda had discovered boys and she and her girlfriends went out to the pictures and to coffee shops and to dances with boys and when she turned nineteen Belinda went off to college and was only home on the weekends and holidays and seldom stayed in the house because she was popular with her girlfriends and the gaggle of gentrified young men who followed them around.

At eighteen years of age Julian found that he had the big house to himself on most evenings and weekends and he spent as much time as possible presenting as Julia. He found that he was most at ease when he was Julia. He’d developed a raspy sexy voice and mastered feminine mannerisms, learning from women that he admired, watching them on the television. He had an extensive wardrobe secreted in his sister’s closet and so long as he maintained his grades and ‘behaved himself’ his parents showed little interest in his after school pursuits.

When Julian transformed into Julia he thought of himself only in the feminine. She was Julia, a teenage girl and Julia's male alter ego simply disappeared.

*****

“Of course I got caught,” Julia emerged from her reverie and the tone of her voice changed.

Susan Bradshaw sensed Julia’s unease and reluctance to continue but she gently encouraged her patient to preserve. Whilst Julia’s formative years were fascinating, they didn’t appear particularly traumatic.

“You got caught? You mean someone found you presenting as Julia when you had not yet come out as a transwoman?” Susan asked softly.

“Transwoman?” Julia snorted.

“That term had not even been used back then as far as I know. I didn’t even know what I was. All I knew was that I was comfortable being Julia and when I presented as Julian most of my time was spent thinking about how I was going to dress as Julia soon as the opportunity presented itself,” Julia waved her hand flippantly.

“Go on please,” Susan encouraged her patient.

Julia cleared her throat and continued.

“On Friday nights mother and father usually went out into the city and stayed out until the early hours. As soon as they left I’d go up to Belinda’s room and transform into Julia. I’d come downstairs and raid the drinks cabinet, my drink of choice was gin and tonic. I would read magazines or watch the television or put on music and dance by myself. Sometimes I’d invent an imaginary partner: no one that I actually knew of course, but some handsome anonymous apparition; a chimaera, if you will,” Julia sounded a little embarrassed.

“I was still unsure of my sexuality. I liked girls but mostly I would mentally critique their looks or envy what they were wearing. I was attracted to boys too but not in a physical way, at least not yet. I imagined that I was Julia and my male chimeras were suitors, vying for Julia’s attention and Julia’s company,” She admitted.

“Of course I knew about sex. Daddy had given me ‘the talk’ and presented me with a handful of rubbers and told me to sew my wild oats but not to bring shame on the family by impregnating some ‘lower-class floozy’,” Julia actually laughed a little when she said this.

“I was inquisitive of course but still a virgin at eighteen. A fellow on my badminton team had pointed out a girl named Rita Mitchell who he claimed was loose with her virtue,” Julia cleared her throat again.

“ ‘Back in primary school she’d show you her knickers for a bite of your toffee apple and her morals haven’t changed as she’s grown older,’” my pal had commented.

“I managed to catch Rita outside the badminton arena where she had snuck off in a dark corner for an illicit cigarette. It was a sordid little exchange. She let me feel under her skirt and she pulled down my shorts and touched me on the willy and I came all over her tights,” Julia actually giggled.

“It cost me five quid and my dignity,” Julia huffed.

“Also I’d found my father’s pornography collection in his study. You know the usual men’s periodicals: Club International, Fiesta, Escort and alike. Lots of upskirts, ladies dressed in stockings and knickers and so-called true confession stories of sordid sex. Then I found the explicit stuff. Men and women engaged in fellatio, cunnilingus and coitus. These I’d borrow and at the end of the evening I’d masturbate into a nylon stocking because: one - I liked the feel of nylon on my penis and two - it didn’t make a mess,” Julia turned to Susan.

“When I looked at the pictures of couples fucking, I’d sometimes imagine that I was the man, but mostly I wanted to be the woman,” Julia confessed.

“Does that shock you?” Julia saw Susan shake her head as if it was nothing and continued.

“Anyway I digress,” Julia took a deep breath.

“Uncle Charlie was what we called a ‘rogue’ in those days. He drank too much, got away with making lecherous comments but he was the life of the party and one of my father’s best friends. He wasn’t actually my uncle per se but in those days polite children called their parents close friends aunty or uncle,” Julia continued.

“This is one of those memories that has only recently surfaced and causes me shame, regret and self-loathing,” Julia paused to take a sip of water.

“I remember it like it was yesterday. It was Friday night and I had the house to myself. I was dressed in Pretty Polly Sheer Perfection fifteen denier tights in a shade called ‘Moonlight’. Over them I was wearing a pair of white satin boy-cut knickers and I wore a matching brassiere. I’d stuffed the cups with old tights because I had not yet acquired breastforms,” Julia described the garb wistfully.

“I’d selected a navy-blue skirt-suit. I liked it because it had a tight pencil skirt that chafed rather pleasantly against my lower thighs and underneath the jacket I wore a mauve satin blouse and of course I was wearing my black high heels. My makeup was heavy but perfect and I’d styled my hair into a bob with a straight fringe,” she recalled.

“I’d had a few drinks and was playing the music rather loudly. I remember I was dancing by myself to ‘I Hear You Knocking’ by Dave Edmunds when I became aware that there was someone standing in the doorway to the lounge room and I froze. I stared at Uncle Charlie and he was staring at me,” Julia’s complexion paled.

Julia took a beat and then she told the whole sordid story without pausing.

“‘Hello Belinda, I didn’t expect you to be home,’ I was shocked to see my Uncle Charlie glaring lecherously at what he thought was his niece,” Julia swallowed as she related her tale.

“‘Hello Uncle Charlie,’ I replied. I remember that my voice was barely audible above the music. I used the feminine rasp I had been practicing,” Julia explained.

“‘Wait a minute!’ Charlie stalked across the large room and lifted the tonearm off the record and I knew that he’d seen through my ruse,” Julia continued.

“The room was suddenly filled with silence as Charlie turned and appraised me and then he said: ‘You're not Belinda. Is that you Julian?’ Charlie seemed perplexed and I have to admit that I was flattered that I had passed so easily as a girl,” Julia smiled wanly at the memory.

“‘I call myself Julia,’ I explained a little defensively. And that was how the evening began,” Julia sighed then continued.

“Charlie didn’t do much at first other than compliment me. He poured me another drink and sat down next to me – not too close mind. He told me I was beautiful and feminine, so feminine in fact that he had at first mistaken me for my sister. He told about when he was in the Navy how the sailors would frequent Bugis Street in Singapore and go with the ‘ladyboys’ who he said were almost unclockable.”

“I knew what he meant by go with but I pretended that I didn’t. I wanted Uncle Charlie to leave but I also wanted Uncle Charlie to stay. He was being polite and flattering and also a little covetous. He kept saying things like ‘your secret is safe with me Julia’. I knew that he was using my femme name and fawning on me to gain my trust but I also knew that by saying my secret was safe with him was his way of subtly blackmailing me,” Julia paused to take a sip of water.

“He plied me with more drinks and he kept getting closer until he was sitting right beside me. I was scared. This man was in forties and was a man of the world and I was eighteen and still in school. When he put one hand on my knee and crept the other along back of the sofa behind me, I knew what he was going to do. I dreaded it but I wanted it. I didn’t want my uncle to molest me but I wanted him to keep telling me how beautiful and ladylike I was. I wanted him to treat me like a woman,” Julia continued.

“When he kissed me it was awful but it was also wonderful. It was awful because his mouth tasted of Scotch whisky and cigarettes and because he stuck his tongue in my mouth. It was wonderful because it was my first kiss as a girl and it proved that men found me attractive enough to want to kiss me. At first I was passive and just sat there and let him kiss me, his fingertips circling softly on my knees, stroking my tights,” Julia’s breathing became deeper and drowsier as she related her tale.

“I returned the kiss and Charlie took me in his arms and kissed me deeply, his hand slid under my skirt and I was terrified but I was mesmerised. He kept telling me how beautiful I was as his kisses became more languid and his hand burrowed deeper under my skirt until he his fingertips found the lace edge of my satin knickers.”

“I let him molest me, putting up the meagerest of protests, trying vainly to remove his hand from under my skirt but my attempt was feeble. I liked the feel of his manly hands on my thighs, I liked that he stroked my nylons and my knickers, I liked that his lips were pressed against mine passionately and that his tongue was exploring my mouth. I liked his manliness juxtaposed to my femininity.”

“When he took my hand and placed it on his manhood I faltered. I made a feeble attempt to extricate myself but he held me tighter, kissed me harder and stroked the front of my knickers. He fumbled with his flies and my hand brushed against his fleshy rod. I was both terrified and fascinated. This was wrong in so many ways but what could I do? He would tell mommy and daddy that their son was a crossdresser, a homo, a noncer.”

“I think I knew deep inside that he wouldn't be able to do so without incriminating himself but it justified my actions when I gripped his tool and began to stroke it. I was petrified and dumbfounded and outraged but for some reason I kissed him even harder and I slid my leg over his so that I could rub his penis against my nylon-sheathed thigh. I wanted nothing to do with his awful appendage, it revolted me whilst at the same time I yearned to feel it on my flesh and I coveted it.”

“Uncle Charlie was gasping as he kissed me deeply and his hand kept rubbing my silky knickers and my tights and I felt a warm glow coming from my groin. I too was breathing raggedly as I returned his kisses and slid my leg up and down his thigh and worked my fingers up and down his steely pole.”

“The taste of the man, the feel of his angular body against my soft feminine form, his lips pressed on mine, the fluttering of his fingers on my knickers, his hand buried under my skirt, my high heels dangling, the taste of my cosmetics, the smell of my perfume – I can feel all that even now but I had buried this memory for so long.”

“I remembered that I was hyperaware of my clothing, my high heels, my hair tickling my face, his tongue in my mouth, my pathetic struggles. Then I became aware that his penis was throbbing in my hand. I felt his scalding issue spatter on my legs. I felt my fingers become sticky. I felt his spunk begin to soak into my nylons. I smelled the musky scent of his semen. An overwhelming sense of satisfaction washed over me,” Julia sighed.

“And like that… it was over. I had been abused and despoiled by my uncle. But wasn’t I as much to blame?” Julia posed a rhetorical question.

“Uncle Charlie quickly disengaged. He stood up and put himself away and reminded me that my secret was safe with him so long as I kept schtum about what had happened between us. He told me that I was quite the floozy and temptress and I was both confused and flattered. His tone had changed. The veiled threat was implicit. He told me that if I was good girl that we might do something like this again,” Julia shuddered as she lay on the divan.

“I told him that we wouldn’t and that I hadn't liked it and he just laughed and said that I had confused wouldn’t with shouldn’t and he kissed me quickly and left,” Julia was visibly shivering as she told her tale.

“He left me like that. Sitting on the couch with my skirt hiked up, my makeup ruined, the taste of him in my mouth, his semen spattered on my thighs, cooling as it soaked into my tights. I had to keep my skirt hiked up when I made my way upstairs to my bedroom so that his spunk wouldn’t stain my skirt,” distaste and repugnance was evident in Julia’s tone.

“It was only when I took off my skirt that I realised that I’d ejaculated into my knickers and tights. I briefly recalled the delightful overwhelming feeling of satisfaction that had washed over me when Uncle Charlie rubbed my genitals through my knickers and tights as his cock juddered and spluttered in my hand and I realised that I had had an orgasm,” Julia sounded regretful.

“I rinsed my unmentionables in the sink and hung them over the radiator to dry in Belinda’s bedroom. I undressed and put away the suit and blouse. I wiped away my makeup and I showered and I went to bed wearing babydoll pyjamas and promised myself that it would never happen again. I blamed Uncle Charlie or taking advantage of me and I blamed myself for not putting up much of a fight,” Julia said defiantly.

“When I woke up in the morning I realised that I had had a nocturnal emission but the provocative and salacious dream that caused it had drifted away from my consciousness. It was something to do with a faceless man taking advantage of me and me eventually capitulating,” Julia recalled.

“So that was the first time I was violated by my Uncle Charlie,” Julia came out of her reverie and looked directly at her therapist.

“You mean there were others?” Susan Bradshaw asked but she knew that of course there would be others.

Once older men who find weakness in a young woman they will continue to exploit it until they are reported or they are caught. Which begged the question…

“Did you tell your parents about what happened? Did you report him?” Susan asked.

“I told you. I have only just started to remember what happened to me. Up until recently my memories of that evening are that Uncle Charlie found me dressed as Julia and he complimented me and we had a couple of drinks and he swore he would tell no one and then he left to join mummy and daddy for dinner,” Julia quipped quite snappily.

“I repressed the sex part… the violation; if that’s what it was,” Julia sat up and snatched up her purse and pulled out a vape.

“Do you mind? It won’t smell,” Julia waved the Elfbar at Susan.

“No go ahead,” Susan had recently switched vaping herself and dug out her own device and began to puff.

“There is a lot to unpack here,” Susan patted her notebook.

“I must ask if you want to report Charlie to the authorities. The United Kingdom has no statute of limitations for criminal offences beyond minor summary offences,” Susan stated.

“It might prove difficult. Uncle Charlie died quite a few years ago. He was destitute and penniless if that is any consolation,” Julia chuckled dryly.

“But I’d like you to come back for another session. I find you easy to talk to and I have much more to tell,” Julia blew out a stream of raspberry-cranberry vapour.

“Therapy works differently for different people in different ways. Make an appointment with my assistant and we can talk again soon,” Susan said soothingly.

“I feel better already, just getting it off my chest. And there is so much more to tell,” Julia alighted from the chaise lounge, smoothed her skirt and reached for her jacket.

She stepped into her Louboutin's, snatched up her purse and left the room leaving behind the scent of Dior Poison.

Susan went over to her desk and pressed a button on the intercom and asked her assistant to send in the next patient. She was aware that her knickers were a little damp and she admonished herself for being aroused by Julia’s story.

To be continued…

Things They Made Me Do - Chapter 2

Author:

Michele Nylons

Caution:

CAUTION

Audience Rating:

EXTREMELY EXPLICIT

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Crossdressing

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Uncle Charlie – Part Two

“I've given more thought to what I said about the dichotomy of the conjugation of the word therapist,” Julia Wallace breezed into Susan Bradshaw’s consulting room.

“You mean the conjugation of the words the rapist into the word therapist?” Susan replied.

Susan was sitting behind her desk rereading the notes she had taken during Julia’s first session.

“Yes. You’re helping me deal with the memories from my past involving me being manipulated into sex, which I don’t really think constitutes rape in its truest sense. However, in a way I felt a little defiled when I left your practice last week,” Julia settled into the chair on the opposite side of Susan’s desk.

“We don’t have to talk about that anymore if you don’t want to. I mean you don’t have to go into such detail,” Susan responded.

“No. It was cathartic. I repressed those memories for so many years and when they returned I started having trouble sleeping, having nightmares and a general feeling of being watched and followed. What you referred to as scopophobia. After sharing with you last week I slept a lot better,” Julia countered.

“Well its early days but I’m glad that therapy seems to be working for you,” Susan made a quick note.

While Susan scribbled in her notebook Julia turned a framed picture on Susan’s desk towards her and then picked it up and studied it. Susan Bradshaw was wearing a bikini and sitting on a beach somewhere warm. It looked like somewhere totally not British, possibly Spain or maybe even somewhere in the Caribbean. There was woman sitting in the sand beside Susan with her arm around her. She looked to be the same age and she was pretty and was also wearing a bikini. The smiles on their faces were reflective of an intimate, happy moment caught on camera.

Susan reached out and politely took the framed picture from Julia and returned it to its proper place on the desk.

“My partner,” Susan blushed a little but she was unapologetic.

“Ah. So you are familiar with the prejudices that we face,” Julia said a little smugly.

“We? Susan’s brow furrowed.

“Those of us in the LGBT community. When daddy first heard that acronym being used he blamed me personally for hijacking half the alphabet. I think that was the last time we spoke,” Julia ruminated.

Susan observed that Julia, a woman in her forties, sometimes still referred to her father as ‘daddy’.

“Shall we begin?” Susan gestured to the chaise lounge, reluctant to discuss her own sexuality with a patient.

Julia was wearing a trouser-suit today. Fashion label of course and Susan noted the red soles on Julia's high heels when she kicked them off. When Julia wiggled her toes as she lay back on the couch Susan also noted that Julia was wearing sheer hosiery under her trousers.

Susan took up her customary position in the plush seat beside the chaise lounge. She was wearing a bone-white skirt suit, heels and hose. It was her best suit and she knew subconsciously that she had worn it today because she knew that Julia was coming in for a session. She chided herself for being influenced by this wealthy entitled matron but she sympathised with Julia’s troubled childhood.

“Where would you like to start?” Susan’s pen was poised over her notebook.

“Let’s pick up where we left off. If you don’t mind I prefer a linear approach to things. I don’t like to chop and change between the past and the present,” Julia stated and she began.

“Uncle Charlie came around for Sunday dinner which mother liked to host once a month. Mother accepted the complements she received regarding the proffered fare graciously, even though she wouldn’t have known how to operate a can opener. She’d brought in caterers to cook and serve the meal,” Julia sniffed.

“You can imagine how uncomfortable I felt sitting at the dining table surrounded by family and friends whilst Uncle Charlie sat across from me pretending that nothing had happened between us,” Julia flicked an imaginary piece of lint off her trousers.

“Charlie was his usual self, telling bawdy stories and reminiscing about his exploits in the Royal Navy. His wife, my Aunty Carol, sat beside him and reproached him when he went a little too far,” Julia recalled.

“‘What about you Julian? Are you chasing skirt around the school grounds? Looking forward to college where you can sew your wild oats with those university hippies? Nah, you look like the type who would fancy a girl dressed conservatively in a nice skirt and nylons rather than some hairy-legged bohemian with straggly hair. I bet you go for the more sophisticated type. That’s your style.’ I could tell that he was baiting me,” Julia sighed.

“‘Leave the poor boy alone Charlie, you're embarrassing him,’ my Aunty Carol thought that she was coming to my rescue,” Julia nodded unconsciously as she recalled the incident.

“I asked to be excused and went up to my bedroom. I could tell that daddy was disappointed that I hadn't joined in the banter. I think he wanted me to say something like: ‘I’m getting plenty of skirt that you very much Uncle Charlie,’ but I just sulked off to the sanctity of my room.”

“Charlie came up to my room a little later and entered without knocking. He was carrying a small package. ‘Tell Julia to wear these on Friday and tell her I’ll be around about eight o’clock.’ He tossed me the package, gave me a lecherous grin and left my room. It was not lost on me that he referred to Julia in the third person as if she was another person entirely, which in a way I was.”

“I was dreading Friday coming around but at the same time I was looking forward to it. I always looked forward to transforming into Julia but I knew that Uncle Charlie was coming to see me and would want some ‘slap and tickle’ as my father so eloquently put it. I felt a grave foreboding about seeing Charlie again because I knew what he would want me to do. But I was also strangely overjoyed that Charlie saw Julia as a woman and treated her like a woman.”

“I’d been having dreams… you know… sex dreams at night and I’d disappear into reveries during the day where my faceless handsome anonymous apparition; my chimaera if you will, took me in his arms and kissed me and then did things to me sexually. In my dreams I was the willing ingénue and my lover was a handsome young man, even though I couldn’t see his face and I didn’t know what those ‘sex things’ actually were.”

“I suppose I was naïve thinking that Uncle Charlie would just settle for some ‘slap and tickle’; some kissing and fondling. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Julia cleared her throat nervously.

“I didn’t open the package until Friday after mother and father had left for a weekend away at Brighton. The package contained a pair of white silk French knickers with lace trim and a pair of fully-fashioned stockings. I was appalled at the gall of Uncle Charlie but I was also thrilled that he had bought me the expensive underpants and hosiery. The stockings were so sheer that I wore hosiery gloves to put them on and fix them to my garters. To this day I recall how delightfully decadent they felt as I put them on, followed by the sensual flutter of the kickers gliding up my legs.”

“After the initial enchantment of putting on the garments and looking at myself in the full-length mirror I realised the problem with the knickers. I think I looked very sexy with my face tinctured with heavy makeup: black eyeliner and mascara, provocative eyeshadow, rouged cheeks and bright red lipstick, naked except for my alluring underwear. But my genitals were unfettered. I usually wore tight knickers to keep myself tucked when I wore stockings instead of tights.”

“I found a navy-blue A-line skirt which provided modesty whilst still showing off my long legs. I straightened the seams of my stockings and put on a white, almost transparent, chiffon blouse. I made the bold decision not to wear a brassiere and despite being flat-chested I have to admit that I looked quite alluring. I’d teased my hair just like Belinda had taught me and it framed my face beautifully.”

“Daddy didn’t like me having long hair but it was the fashion in the seventies and he grudgingly acquiesced after mummy told him to let it go,” Julia recalled wistfully.

Susan made some notes but kept silent and allowed Julia to continue.

“I’d painted my nails and put on a pendant necklace, earrings and bracelets; they were all cheap costume jewellery of course. If daddy found out that I’d pierced my ears he would have had a fit. Anyway, I put on my only pair of heels, sprayed myself with some of Belinda’s perfume and checked myself out in the mirror again.”

“I subconsciously berated myself for dressing so provocatively. I could just have easily have gone away for the weekend to visit Belinda in Oxford where she was living-in at Lady Margaret Hall. I could have just not transformed into Julia and spent the weekend as Justin, drinking beer and lounging on the couch watching television but I was defiant. My time spent as Julia was precious and Uncle Charlie would not prevent me from becoming the person I believed I was destined to be.”

“If I had to spend a few hours kissing, cuddling and diddling my ‘uncle’ then so be it! I could persevere with that indignity. That’s what I told myself but I had no idea what my Uncle Charlie had planned for me that weekend,” Julia visibly shuddered and Susan suspected that Julia’s tale was about to take a darker twist.

“I went downstairs and started drinking straight away; I think they call it Dutch courage. I put on my music and I’d had three gin and tonics before Uncle Charlie let himself in and found me dancing by myself in the lounge room. The lights were dim and the music was soft and Charlie stood in the doorway and watched me. I was determined not to show any fear,” Julia whispered.

“‘Don’t you look absolutely stunning,’ the flattery started straight away. Charlie moved into the room and made himself a drink and I kept dancing slowly and seductively. I was determined to show him that I wasn’t scared even though I could feel his eyes crawling over my body.”

“‘Did you like my gift?’ he asked as he approached me. I just nodded and kept dancing. ‘Show me,’ he came right up to me. ‘Show you what?’ I asked but I knew what he meant. ‘You know what I mean, show me!’ he smiled at me lecherously.”

“I stopped dancing and slowly lifted my skirt up my legs until the coffee-coloured welts of my stockings came into view, just visible under the legs of the French knickers he had bought me. This time he made no pretext of hiding his intent and he pulled me in into his embrace and kissed me passionately. I didn’t resist but I wasn’t actively participating either. Passive resistance I think they called back then,” Julie took a beat to catch her breath.

“His lips pressed against mine and his tongue slid into my mouth. This time his breath was pleasant. He must have chewed a Polo or a breath mint to freshen his breath. He pressed his body against me and I felt his erection rubbing against my belly. He guided my hand down there and I knew what I had to do. I would masturbate him just like last time and he would go away.”

“The record had stopped playing and the rasp of his flies as I unzipped his trousers sounded deafening in the silence. I put my hand inside his trousers eager to get it over with. I returned his kiss and slid my longue into his mouth as my fingers curled around his turgid manhood. Uncle Charlie gasped and his hand slipped under my skirt. He stoked my legs, his fingers tracing the backseam on my stockings, slowly working their way up my thighs to my stocking tops. My unfettered penis began to become tumescent despite my distaste,” Julie took a sip of water.

“I stroked him faster, keen to bring him to climax as soon as possible and to my surprise Charlie began to stoke my erection through my knickers and it was my turn to gasp,” Julia admitted.

Susan found herself imagining the scene in her head. The pretty eighteen-year-old ingénue being kissed by a much older man holding her tight, his hand under her skirt while she stroked his truncated penis that was poking out of trousers. The image was both disturbing and arousing and Susan crossed and uncrossed her legs. This was not professional. She’d heard similar stories in her capacity as a therapist: older men taking advantage of much younger women and she knew the psychological damage it could cause.

“There is no need to go on Julia. I can imagine what happened next,” Susan found her most professional and consoling voice.

“No you can’t. I tried to let Uncle Charlie let me bring him off with my hand but he pulled my hand away and put his hands on my shoulders and pressed them downwards. I had seen my father’s pornography collection and I knew why men wanted women on their knees, but I was powerless. I dropped to my knees and Uncle Charlie unbuckled his trousers and dropped them down to the floor, quickly followed by his underpants. His rampant weapon was level with my eyes.”

“He moved his hands to my head and guided my face to his groin and god help me I opened my mouth and took into it what he had to offer. I justified my actions to myself. I was the prey and he was the predator. I was the one being blackmailed. He would be believed and I would not be. But there was something else. When I masturbated looking at daddy’s pornography magazines, didn’t I imagine that I was the woman rather than the man? Hadn't I subconsciously wanted to be one of those women in those pictures subjugating themselves to a man? The women seemed to enjoy it as much as the men did, right?” Julia posed the rhetorical question to herself.

“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. My uncle’s swollen glans was leaking a continuous trickle of pre-ejaculate. Of course like every young man my age I had tasted my own and Charlie’s was no worse. It was both salty and sweet. His glans was slick and pink and bulbous, his shaft long, the skin velvety with veins running down the sides and underneath. Just like the ladies in the pictures I swallowed as much of his cock as I could.”

“I found that tickling his fraenulum with the tip of my tongue while I worked my lips up down the shaft gave Charlie the most pleasure. I had become that most despised but most yearned for type of woman of that era: a fellatrix, or to put it more bluntly, a cocksucker. The boys at school used the term disparagingly about certain girls but those boys who had experienced blowjobs were envied by those who had not. Such is the duplicity of men,” Julia observed.

“Charlie placed his hands on either side of my face; not forcefully but gently. He guided my head up and down and back and forth on his rampant phallus. Part of me wanted him to ejaculate quickly and another part of me wanted him to draw it out. My penis was erect inside my knickers and it felt like I might orgasm at any moment, the feelings were so intense. I felt weak and violated whilst at the same time I felt powerful and in control because Uncle Charlie was telling me how beautiful I looked, how sexy I was and what a wonderful job I was doing,” Julia admitted.

“He pushed his cock all the way in my mouth and ejaculated quite suddenly. I swallowed his rich, viscous issue and used my tongue to express all of his spend into my willing mouth. I hadn't climaxed and was relieved in a way that I hadn't. I had just done what any girl would have done in the same circumstances when faced with blackmail by an older man. I had submitted to his demands but I had not been a willing participant. Or had I?” another rhetorical question that remained unanswered.

“I thought that it was all over. I thought that Uncle Charlie would dress himself and leave, just like he did last time. But he didn’t. He helped me to my feet and he guided me to the sofa, kissing me while he did so. He had me lie down and he lay down on top of me and kept kissing me. His cock was still out and I could feel it rubbing on my stocking tops.”

“He was still erect and his penis was rubbing against mine through the satiny layer of knicker fabric. I struggled to get up but Charlie only laughed and kissed me harder and I realised that my struggles were only arousing his further so I lay still and let him kiss me. I let him rut against me, his hard cock pressing on my erect penis through my knickers. I tried to think of other things but his insistent kissing and the feel of his body on top of me and his manhood rubbing mine elicited unbidden sexual urges.”

“I could feel that I was about to climax and there was nothing I could do to stop it but Charlie suddenly stopped thrusting and kissing. He unbuttoned my blouse and his mouth went to my meagre breasts, his suckled and nipped my nipples and they became erect and tender to his touch. A warmth that I had never experienced before radiated from my nipples and I gasped.”

“I heard Uncle Charlie chuckle. He knew that I liked what he was doing to me despite my protests. He put his lips back on mine and slipped his tongue in my mouth and began to slowly hump me. Frottage the French call it. Rubbing cocks together like that,” Julia commented matter-of-factly.

“Anyway I couldn’t help myself and I wrapped my legs around his waist and put my arms around his bulky shoulders and held him close while I returned his kisses and raised my buttocks off the couch to meet his thrusts. We came together in an explosion of lust, our cocks thrusting against each other, our lips locked together, my tongue thrashing in his mouth. My knickers were drenched with semen and the stench of spunk filled the air.”

“Charlie was done and he jumped off me. He wiped his cock on my skirt and pulled up his trousers while I lay there defiled with my skirt hitched up, my knickers and stocking tops drenched in spunk. ‘Now you really look like whore,’ Charlie chuckled as he finished his drink and lit a cigarette.”

“‘I’ll see you tomorrow at the same time. Make sure you have used this,’ he tossed another package at me and left without saying another word.”

“I lay there like that for what seemed like an eternity. I was disgusted with myself because I had capitulated but I was proud of myself because I hadn't cried or shown any fear. I eventually found the will to take off my skirt and my semen-soaked knickers and I went upstairs and cleaned up, freshened my makeup and changed my clothes. I put the stockings and the French knickers in a hosiery bag and threw them in the washing machine along with the cum-spattered skirt.”

“I went back to the lounge room and made myself another drink and put my music back on. I was not going to let Uncle Charlie ruin the rest of my night. But… I recalled what he said to me before he left ‘I’ll see you tomorrow at the same time’ and dread filled my heart. I would have to do it all over again. How long was this going to go on?”

“Then I remembered the package and I snatched it up off the couch and opened it. The item fell from my fingers and I gasped. It was a douche,” Julie whispered.

“Of course I knew what this implied and I was terrified. I was no virgin when it came to putting objects inside me for pleasure but the thought of being fucked was terrifying. This was going too far. I spent a sleepless night trying to figure out how I was going to rid myself of Uncle Charlie’s unwanted advances.”

“The next evening I made a phone call prior to transforming into Julia. I went into Belinda’s room and rummaged through the clothing she had left behind but it was slim pickings. Then I found her old school uniform: a grey pleated skirt, white cotton blouse and navy blazer with the school emblem embroidered on the pocket.”

“I figured Uncle Charlie would find it very exciting when he found me dressed as a schoolgirl,” Julia actually chuckled when she said this which Susan found a little unnerving.

“I suffered the indignity of using the douche before I showered and began my transformation. I spent quite some time in front of the mirror trying to get my hair in a style similar to Belinda’s blunt cut bob. After I had done my best I put on my makeup, mimicking Belinda’s makeup style which was minimal but heavy on the eyeliner to make a smoky eye. I wore sheer black tights with tight white rayon knickers over, put on the school uniform and took Belinda’s school shoes which were black patent leather low-heeled courts. Looking at myself in the mirror I did look very much like my sister so I went downstairs and made myself a drink.”

“I checked the time. Charlie would be here soon. Using the newly opened M23 I guessed it would take mommy and daddy two to three hours to get home from Brighton depending on the traffic. It was a bold move but I couldn’t go on being held hostage by my Uncle Charlie. At ten to eight I squeezed my feet into Belinda’s school shoes.”

“My plan was derailed from the start when Uncle Charlie came through the door with another man,” Julia took a beat before she continued.

“I didn’t know him and he looked very sleazy; bigger than Uncle Charlie and shabbily dressed. ‘I told you she was a stunner,’ Charlie said to his friend. ‘And look how she’s dressed. She’s quite the floozy dressing in her sister’s school uniform, she looks very much like my niece,’ Charlie said to his friend, talking about me as if I was just some mannequin. He didn’t even have the decency to address me directly.”

“There was no pretence of emotional or physically intimacy this time. Both men stripped naked and just glared at me. I considered bolting for the staircase but I knew that I would just be delaying the inevitable. I had no chance of fighting off these two ruffians so I stood defiantly and sipped my drink which was my fourth of the evening, hoping that the alcohol would dull my senses for what was coming.”

“They took turns kissing me, while the other groped me, pressing his cock against my legs and buttocks. I stood still and endured it, glancing up at the clock, willing for time to go faster. The men didn’t rush but they were insistent. When they guided my hand to their organs I stroked them like I knew Uncle Charlie liked me to but as soon as one of them was close to extremis the other took his place. It was as if they had rehearsed the scenario,” Julia took a sip of water and continued.

“Uncle Charlie led me to the couch and had me sit there. He hiked up my skirt and opened my legs, posing me like a whore. ‘She’s not wearing stockings,’ the stranger whined. I never knew his name and still don’t. ‘I don’t mind tights. I like the feel of the nylon against my groin. Stop whinging and get the Vaseline,’ Charlie said to his accomplice.”

“They forced me on my knees and took turns using my mouth. I worked so hard trying to get them to climax, trying to delay the inevitable, but as soon as they were close they would pull out and trade places. ‘I’m going first,’ Charlie said and I knew what was coming and looked hopefully up at the clock. Charlie pushed me down on my hands and knees. I remember the carpet chafed my knees. I was struggling now but I was no match for the two men,” Julie gulped water this time before she continued her sordid tale.

“The stranger stopped me from struggling while Uncle Charlie got on his knees behind me and eased aside the gusset of my knickers. I shook my buttocks in a feeble attempt to stop him but he just laughed and ripped out the crotch of my tights. The stranger handed Charlie the Vaseline and Charlie slid a finger inside me, then two. That was when I froze.”

“At first it hurt but the Vaseline made it tolerable. Then it didn’t. Just like that. I can’t lie to you. It began to feel nice. As I said I’d put things inside me before but Charlie’s fingers were tactile, he stroked a place deep inside me that radiated a very pleasant sensation. Then he pulled his fingers out and put more Vaseline in my crack and I felt him press the glans of his penis against my sphincter. I would have screamed if I could but the stranger had put his cock in my mouth,” Julia took a very deep breath.

“I would be lying if I said it wasn’t pleasant. Once Charlie had his cock inside me he stopped, I presume to allow me to get used to it. Now that he had done to me what I desperately didn’t want him to do, I figured that the best thing to do was to ensure that I didn’t have to endure any more pain so kept perfectly still and allowed my anus to accommodate his penis. When Charlie thought I was ready he put his hands on my waist and began to fuck me,” Julia shuddered as she recalled the memory.

“He fucked me and I let him. Even worse I suckled the strangers cock. It was somehow freeing. I could justify my actions. I was being forced to do this. I had no choice. But I moaned like a slattern when Charlie thrust his cock in and out of my tight passage, the glans pressed on my prostate and the base of his penis illicited little sparklets of pleasure from my sphincter. My cock was hard.”

“Charlie pulled me back against him and to my shame I ground my buttocks and pushed back against him as he released himself inside me. The stranger ejaculated in my mouth and I sucked every drop of semen from his cock. Feeling the stranger’s cock shudder in my mouth while Uncle Charlie’s penis juddered and expelled his issue deep inside my anus triggered my own orgasm. I flooded my tights. The feeling was like nothing I had ever felt before. I felt degraded but at the same time I felt exalted. I was being forced to do this but at the same time capitulating freed me of guilt, at least for now,” Julia sighed.

“I looked up at the clock. It had been three hours since I had made my phone call.”

“My mother and father burst through the door and that was how they found me, being, what do they call it? - spit-roasted, by my Uncle Charlie and the stranger. When I telephoned them earlier in the afternoon I told mommy and daddy that they needed to come home urgently but had not told them why, only that I was in terrible trouble. I had deliberately dressed in Belinda’s clothes and styled my hair like hers,” Julia explained.

“I remember my father yelling: ‘Jesus Christ Charlie! What the hell are you doing, fucking my daughter?’ and Uncle Charlie just laughing at daddy.”

“‘I'm not fucking your daughter Henry, I’m buggering your son,’ Charlie replied before daddy lunged at him. The stranger ran for the door, stopping only briefly to snatch up his clothes. He got away but my father got a hold of Charlie and beat him senseless. Of course once daddy had dealt with Uncle Charlie he blamed me. He wasn’t interested in anything I had to say,” Julia sighed.

“He made Charlie pay for his indiscretion and breach of trust though. He didn’t just beat him up he ruined him. Daddy was a rich and powerful man with powerful friends and Uncle Charlie was ostracised from the family and daddy and his friends drove him into bankruptcy. I was told that I would pay for my sins,” Julia reached for her purse and took out her vape.

She was finished for the day and Susan was glad that Julia had finally finished recalling her memories.

“Well at least we have spoken about all your demons. Your Uncle Charlie got his comeuppance, so I suppose that is some form of justice. Now that we have finished talking about the abuse you suffered we can start talking about ways to help you deal with the psychological issues the abuse caused ,” Susan put down her pen and notebook and reached for her own vape.

“Oh you silly woman. That wasn’t the end of it. That was just the beginning. I have so much more to tell you,” Julia took a deep pull on her vape and blew out the vapour in a long stream.

To be continued…

Things They Made Me Do - Chapter 3

Author:

Michele Nylons

Caution:

CAUTION: Sex / Sexual Scenes

Audience Rating:

EXTREMELY EXPLICIT

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Crossdressing

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

The Chelmsford Academy

“After mommy and daddy caught me with Uncle Charlie the shit hit the fan, as the common folk are want to say. Even though daddy gave Charlie a thrashing and drove him into bankruptcy, his motive wasn’t revenge for me. He did it because Uncle Charlie had broken daddy’s trust. I could tell by the look on daddy’s face that he was horrified when he saw what he thought was Belinda, his pride and joy, being rogered by Charlie. When he realised it was me, his look turned to disgust,” Julia Wallace began her third therapy session.

Julia had arrived wearing a red Dior skirt-suit, nylons and Jimmy Choo heels. Her makeup was impeccable as usual but the bitchy side of Susan Bradshaw couldn’t help thinking of Julia as an entitled matron. Susan was also wearing a designer skirt-suit. When she had bought it three days earlier she had tried to convince herself that the extravagance was not because she envied Julia Wallace but subconsciously she was not convinced.

Julia had settled into the chaise lounge, kicked off her heels and continued her confessions despite Susan wanting to explore the physiological consequences of Julia’s trauma and begin the healing process.

“At this stage I just want to get it all off my chest. I need to share my memories with someone I can trust. Up until recently I thought that I had been sent to boarding school just because daddy had found me crossdressed drinking his liquor. I had suppressed the memories of the sexual encounters with Uncle Charlie deep inside me and now I need to tell you the rest. As I told you during my first visit I find it cathartic,” Julia had insisted.

Susan had allowed Julia to continue. It might be best to hear everything Julia had to say before she began to fully psychoanalyse the consequences.

“I didn’t tell mommy and daddy that Belinda had helped me with my transition from Julian to Julia. I loved my sister too much for her to be dragged into the sordid mess. She was at Oxford living-in at Lady Margaret Hall and blissfully unaware about what was going on at home,” Julia sighed.

“My father made me gather up all of my feminine attire and my makeup and forced me to burn it in the furnace. He told that I was never to speak about what had happened with Uncle Charlie and was not interested in my side of the story. He was disgusted with me and gave me the option of being thrown out of the house without a penny or going to boarding school where ‘they would make a man of me’. What else could I do?” Julia posed the rhetorical question.

“The Chelmsford Academy for Young Men was one of the last all-male institutions where strict discipline was enforced. The prefects maintained order outside of the classroom and the schoolmasters' authority was almost limitless. I was given a haircut, short-back-and sides of course, uniforms were purchased and I was packed off to the Academy and daddy told that if I didn’t graduate with honours, I would be disowned,” Julia recalled wistfully.

“You probably don’t realise what boarding schools were like back then, men and boys living on top of each other in a testosterone-fuelled melange. The practice of juniors fagging for the seniors had only just ceased when I got there but there were cliques and alliances within the Houses and if you were on the outer you were ostracised. Students only went home for the holidays and the school was a hotbed of suppressed sexual frustration,” Julia recalled.

“It was an open secret that some boys gave each other an ‘Eton rub’ now and then to let off steam and a few took it further,” Julia commented.

“My roommate was Byron Rumsfeld. He was the same age as me, a short chubby chap who the bullies called ‘Piggy’. Being effete and not particularly athletic we were both the subject of bullying which in those days was not discouraged. Although I excelled academically I did not do well in manly pursuits. Sport was compulsory but there was no badminton or tennis. We had to play at least one team sport, either Rugby, football or field hockey in the winter and cricket or softball in the summer. Boxing was a year round event. I wasn’t much good at any of them although I did well at cross-country running,” Julia recalled.

“Piggy and I were hopeless at rugby and spent our time on the bench or running out oranges and water at half time. Every now and then Timothy Valentine, the team captain, would put us on the field so the other boys could watch us get pummelled in the rucks. The one saving grace was that Chelmsford Academy did have an arts department and that was where I took my elective subjects.”

“Shakespeare was what the school’s theatre company mostly performed and I found I had a natural inclination to act. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Hadn't I been acting when I presented as Julia back in London? A new Master joined the staff who was inclined to produce a modern farce and all of us in the theatre class were relived and elated to be performing something more up to date,” Julia gave a rare smile.

“It was an absurd pasquinade involving two married couples. Both wives have been unfaithful with the other’s husband but each spouse had kept the affair secret from their partner. There was lots of innuendo and double entendres when the couple reunited for a dinner party at one of the couple’s houses, having not seen each other for many years. Many of the Masters did not want the play to be performed but Mister Dillingham, the new arts Master, finally got approval to do something more light-hearted and comical.”

“‘Why don’t we audition for the female leads?’ Byron asked me. ‘They are hilarious roles and we can camp it up,’ Piggy was enthusiastic. He thought that playing the fool on stage might make us more popular with the cliques. Of course I was dying to take on the role of Penelope, the vicious-tongued shrew, not just because it was a meaty role but because I could legitimately crossdress. In my dreams I was still Julia, although I hadn't been able to present as her for nearly a year,” Julia said a little bitterly.

“I was a shoe-in of course. I had the mannerisms, the voice and the aesthetic down pat, in fact I had to be careful not be overly feminine otherwise I might give my secret away. Mister Dillingham gave the other female role to Byron mainly because his short tubby appearance and bumbling awkwardness was the perfect visual foil to my tall, slim appearance, elegant grace and charm. He cast two handsome boys to play our husbands,” Julia smiled again as she recalled the memory.

“So you were able to fulfil your desire to present as feminine by playing a character in a play,” Susan scribbled away in her notebook.

Julia looked a little annoyed that Susan had interrupted her train of thought but she took a sip of water and continued.

“We rehearsed without costumes while the other art and theatre students worked on set design, props and lighting. It felt quite peculiar playing a female role whilst dressed in my school uniform. When we were ready for dress rehearsals I was finally able to fulfil my secret ambition.”

“The costume department had done an excellent job. The play was set in the 1950s and they had taken our measurements and had acquired suitable costumes for myself and Byron. I was provided with a red sleeveless spaghetti strap satin evening gown, with a split in one side as suited my character. Byron was given a vintage cocktail party swing dress. It was emerald-green with black polka dots made from ruched mesh with tulle details. Matching high heels were provided and to my delight the costume designer insisted that we wear vintage lingerie and hosiery for authenticity,” Julia gave a wry smile.

“The clothes had been found at Oxfam by Mister Dillingham, the lingerie and hosiery purchased at Debenhams. Two dinner suits had been acquired for the male leads and the costumers worked hard tailoring them to fit us. I was to wear a glossy raven blunt-cut bob in keeping with Penelope’s sharp-tongued shew and Byron was given a blonde wig that was coiffed in a mixture of soft, voluminous curls and waves worn in a side part, with the curls cascaded down the face and shoulder. Think Marilyn Munroe. Needless to say I was jealous of her hair but I was happy just to be able to dress femme.”

“The makeup department, which consisted of one chap whose skills were limited to applying stage makeup to Shakespearian characters, didn’t have a clue but I let him make up Byron and I. Mister Dillingham was not impressed with his efforts.”

“‘These women need to look sexy and seductive, alluring, mature and sophisticated. Their makeup needs be theatrical but also realistic,’ Mister Dillingham said. I could have kissed him for using the word ‘women’ to describe us. ‘I watched my sister do her makeup. She even made me up a few times,’ I offered, steering close to dangerous shores by admitting so. But Mister Dillingham gave me a free rein to effect Penelope and Betty’s makeup and I was pleased with the results,” Julia confessed.

“I was of course delighted that I was finally able to put on makeup again after such a long recess. Byron was impressed too and when he looked in the mirror and saw his face feminised by the heavy makeup and the blonde wig I could tell he was pleased. Of course dressing for the first time in foundation garments, stockings, high heels and my evening gown was exhilarating. Now that I was wearing my blunt-cut bob wig and my makeup I felt like Julia had been resurrected.”

“The company was impressed with how I projected femininity and how well I took to the bitchy role. I coached Byron, whose character Betty was a dumb blonde, a foil for my wicked tongue, and she was very taken with her role. Late one night as we lay in our beds in the dark Byron asked me why I was so proficient and comfortable with makeup, why I hadn't stumbled like she did when we first wore high heels, how I was able to project femininity without coaching and I realised that I’d overplayed my hand. I confessed to Byron, who I only thought of as ‘Betty’ when she was dressed for her role, about my past and what had happened with Uncle Charlie.”

“‘That must have been awful!’ Byron whispered. ‘It was. But also it wasn’t. Uncle Charlie only ever treated me as a woman, even though I was under duress when he was doing those things to me. Yes it was degrading but it was also empowering,’ I whispered to him in the dark and we left it at that,” Julia sighed.

“We were allowed to invite family and friends to the Friday night performance but of course I didn’t invite anybody. If mommy and daddy knew that I was playing a female role in the play they would have had a fit. Daddy was not happy that I had taken theatre as an elective but I was top of my class in my academic subjects to he let it go,” Julia said wistfully.

“I remember our opening night like it was yesterday. It was the Thursday night before the premier performance, what we now call a ‘soft opening’ and only the students and staff attended. The play would run for a week and then we were to switch our endeavours to Othello,” Julia made a mew with her mouth.

“I remember cinching my garter belt around my waist, the suspenders tickling my thighs, sliding the fifteen denier fully-fashioned stockings up my legs followed by my tight satin knickers. A padded brassiere gave me shape and as I sat in front of the mirror and did my makeup, heavy, theatrical but sexy, then positioned my wig on my head and brushed it out, I felt contented. I already looked like Julia but when I slipped into the satin sheath gown and put on my high heels and the costume jewellery, I looked stunning. I might be Penelope Watson for the play but inside I was Julia,” Julia sighed contently.

“Byron looked nearly as stunning presenting as Betty, a bubbly buxom blonde. I helped Betty with her makeup before she dressed. She had become quite adept at presenting feminine and had taken on the role as comic counterpart to my snarky bitch to heart. Even then I thought that Byron liked dressing up as Betty a little more than he admitted but I didn’t realise Betty’s perfidiousness until later,” Julia gave a wry smile.

“Then we were on stage and performing and I immersed myself in my role as did Betty. The two young men playing our husbands also performed their roles brilliantly. There were a couple of kissing scenes in the original version of the play but for modesty’s sake they had been rewritten as chaste pecks. Neither Betty nor I felt any licentiousness from or for the two male leads. We both knew that they were closet queers and had no interest in us ‘ladies’.”

“After the performance I stood at the edge of the stage with my three fellow actors, all holding hands. The two ‘husbands’ bowed and Betty and Penelope curtseyed, which effected more applause and laughter from the audience.”

“Then I saw them… three prefects sitting in the front row. They were seniors in their early twenties undertaking their final year at the college,” Julia’s eyes glazed over a little.

“I saw the look of hunger in their eyes. It was the same look that I had seen in Uncle Charlie’s eyes when he stood in the lounge room doorway staring at me that first time. They were men, devoid of female company, not averse to using their strength and influence to take gratification from weaker lads,” there was a creak in Julia’s voice as she spoke.

“These were the same three young men who had bullied Byron and I incessantly and who accused us of being lavender, which was the college euphemism for effeminate homosexuals. Was I afraid? Yes. But I was also smug and vain. I knew that I looked pretty and seductive standing on that stage under the spotlight. I was foolish and would pay for my vanity,” Julia said coolly.

“The Chelmsford Academy had a large function room and each House had a small bar. The function room would be used for the Friday night post-performance reception but because not all of the students had attended and some of the faculty had boycotted the play, one of the smaller House bars was used for the after party on completion of our performance. The four principals attended in costume, I touched up Betty’s makeup and my own before we attended,” Julia continued.

“The Headmaster gave the briefest of speeches and said that he was looking forward to the company’s forthcoming production of Othello, openly conveying his dislike of the farce. Mister Dillingham however gave a flowery speech, praising everyone in the academy’s theatre production team and especially his four principals. I enjoyed pretending to be Penelope Watson whilst secretly celebrating the return of Julia Wallace and I noticed that Betty seemed to be enjoying attention that she seldom achieved as ‘Piggy’.”

“There was some light-hearted horseplay, what our American cousins refer to as ‘grab-assing’ and I probably drank more than I ought to because I was on a high. Later in the evening I saw Betty surrounded by the three prefects, having what appeared to be a heated discussion, but when I approached the three bullies quickly disassembled and left the party. I asked Betty about the confrontation but she said it was nothing, just the prefects giving her cheek.”

“The party broke up and Betty and I made our way back to our dorm. We would return our costumes to the theatre the next day. Betty opened the door to our dorm room and let me enter ahead of her. She entered right behind me and I heard her lock the door. I watched in amazement as she tossed the key across the room. It was caught by Tim Valentine, one of the prefects. He was sitting in an armchair waiting for us. His two chums were standing nearby. They all had evil grins on their faces and openly ogled Betty and I,” Julia swallowed and took a drink of water.

“‘I’m sorry Julia, they threatened me. I’ve been their plaything for so long now that I just couldn’t say no,’ Betty was close to tears but in that moment I hated her,” Julia’s eyes were icy.

“‘Yes, Piggy has quite a good mouth on him and that fat arse is very comfortable but I much prefer her as Betty. And you Penelope, or should I say Julia, are absolutely stunning,’ Tim Valentine sniggered. I was no fool. I knew what they wanted. I’d heard rumours that some of the prefects bullied some of the lower classmen into providing sexual favours,” Julia knitted her brows knowingly.

“‘You chaps can play with Betty, I’m keeping Julia all to myself for now,’ Tim waved a hand at his classmates dismissively and strode over to me. I knew what he wanted of course. The same thing Uncle Charlie and his friend had wanted. The only question for me was would I get away with giving him a little ‘slap and tickle’ or was I in for a buggering? Calling for help would be a waste of time,” Julia said a little pragmatically.

“‘How do you know about Julia?’ I asked defiantly but the answer was obvious. I had been betrayed by my roommate. ‘I know all about Julia and your Uncle Charlie because Betty told me. All I want is the same thing. It’s nothing you haven’t done before,’ Tim Valentine stood inches away from me with a smarmy grin on his face,” Julia took another sip of water and proceeded.

“‘You are quite stunning you know Julia. Possibly better looking than any of my girlfriends in London and you definitely have better legs,” Tim slipped his hand inside the slit of my gown and stroked my leg. His fingers fluttered lightly on my stockings and little wavelets of pleasure radiated from where he touched me despite my attempts suppress them,” Julia admitted.

“Tim was a handsome lad and when he kissed me I could smell his aftershave. I could feel his muscled torso pressing against me, his cock was tenting his trousers. I expected him to be rough and insistent but his lips were soft and his tongue slipped easily into my mouth and he held me close, putting his arms around me. Of course my natural inclination was to fight him off but what would that achieve? He was bigger than me and he had his two housemates with him. The door was locked and he had the key, there was no escape,” Julia sighed.

“I think it was the author Lawrence Block who wrote in his novel The Thief Who Couldn’t Sleep: 'when rape is inevitable, lie back and enjoy it.’ Of course it is often quoted out of context but the axiom seemed appropriate at the time,” Julia sniffed as if what she had said was a trifle.

“I’m sorry I have to stop you there Julia. Are you really advocating that women should just submit to sexual assault and that they should somehow savour the experience?” Susan Bradshaw sounded outraged.

“Of course not you silly woman. Now you are taking me out of context. Put yourself in my position. Back then I was a young man who liked to… no that’s not right… was compelled to crossdress. As I have said many times, I felt most comfortable, normal if you will, when I presented as Julia. I was still battling with my gender identity and sexuality. I was locked in a room with three ardent young men and another crossdresser,” Julia retorted.

“Tim Valentine was a handsome young man and he was kissing me and telling me how beautiful I was. He was validating my femininity and if the price I had to pay to receive that validation was to submit to his desires I was willing to pay it. Now let me proceed,” Julia said indignantly.

Susan just nodded but it was obvious that she disagreed with Julia but it was not Susan’s place to judge; her job was to support Julia, not to take her inventory.

Julia proceeded with her confession.

“Tim was kissing me and holding me tight. I didn’t fight him but I didn’t encourage him either. I was once again confused. Men found me attractive, of that I was certain, but they only saw me as an object of desire. I could sense Tim’s ardour, his lasciviousness, his need. My thoughts vacillated between contempt and felicitation. Tim despised Julian and bullied him incessantly but he desired and coveted Julia,” Julia reflected.

“So I immersed myself in the pneuma of Julia as others saw her: Uncle Charlie, the stranger, and now Tim Valentine. They all deemed me a strumpet, a concubine; theirs to ravish and despoil. So I took Lawrence Block’s adage literally and I surrendered. I returned Tim Valentine’s kisses. I moulded my body to his. I sought out his appendage and stroked it through his trousers,” Julia sighed.

“He gasped into my mouth as I fondled his bloated penis, my tongue fluttering in his mouth, his hand stroking my thighs. My cock began to engorge and sprang forward, tenting my knickers. My testicles descended from where I had tucked them away. Tim’s fingers brushed the front of my knickers and I shuddered with delight but he quickly removed his hand from my pubis and instead squeezed my buttocks.”

“‘I don’t want to touch it,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘But you want me to touch yours,’ I nipped his earlobe and unzipped his fly. ‘Yes, oh god yes!’ he gasped as I locked my fingers around his swollen cock. I stroked it and rubbed it on my stocking and felt Tim shudder. I could feel the warm slippery milt of his pre-ejaculate on my fingers and soaking into my stocking when I put his cock between my thighs and let him dry-hump me,” Julia swallowed as she recalled the events of the evening.

“‘I don’t want to cum yet,’ he groaned into my ear.”

“I knew then that I could make him cum right there and then. Most likely once he had climaxed he would push me away and I would be done with him, at least for now. It would be a small victory for me. But something about his yearning for me, his desire and his need felt flattering and gave me power and control.”

“It surprised me as much as it did him when I suddenly dropped to my knees and took his engorged manhood into my mouth. I don’t know what came over me but I had suddenly become the slattern that I’m sure Tim and his prefects imagined I was. Tim had his back to the wall, his eyes screwed tightly closed, his mouth open in a continual moan, his hands resting lightly on my head, guiding my lips up and down his cock. I lashed my tongue on the head of his penis and swallowed his salty-sweet precum as his cock juddered in my mouth.”

“I could sense that he was nearly at extremis and I wanted dearly to free my cock from my knickers and orgasm right along with him but I resisted the temptation. Tim suddenly pushed my face away from his groin and he dragged me to my feet and began to kiss me again. I rubbed against him, returning his kisses. When I reached for his erection he batted my hand away. ‘Not yet. I don’t want to cum yet,’ he gasped,” Julia took a beat and then continued.

Susan could feel the dampness in her knickers as Julia told her tale. Despite her sexuality she had dallied with boys when she was younger and she could imagine what it was like for Julia being willingly molested by the handsome young Tim Valentine.

“He led me to my bed and I lay down on it. On the bed across the room Betty was kneeling on her hands and knees being buggered by one of the prefects while the other one stood at the end of the bed feeding his cock into her willing mouth. By the look on her face she seemed to be enjoying every second of it as she pushed back against the boy buggering her, her red lipsticked lips slathered at the penis in her face,” Julia’s description was graphic.

“The prefects had come prepared and Tim snatched up the jar of Vaseline that stood on the table between the bunks. He lifted my legs and put my ankles on his shoulders, pausing to kiss my nylon-sheathed calves. He had removed his trousers and his shoes and he knelt between my legs with his angry member standing proud, a rivulet of silvery precum hanging from the eye,” Julia closed her eyes as she recalled the incident.

“He eased aside the gusset of my knickers and anointed my sphincter with a good dollop of Vaseline. He put the lubricant back on the table and stared into my eyes. ‘You really are beautiful,’ he whispered and lowered his face to mine and kissed me as his long corpulent phallus slid inside me,” Julia said wistfully.

“I should have protested. I should have screamed. I should have been in agony. But I wasn’t. I was in bliss. That long fleshy prong lit up the nerve endings around my tight sphincter, his glans pressed on my prostate. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and held Tim close while he fucked me. He barely moved his cock because he was scared that he would ejaculate too soon. I kissed him passionately and scissored my stocking-shrouded legs on his flanks and crossed my ankles behind his back as his cock filled my tight anus.”

“He returned my kisses and moaned into my mouth, then I felt his cock begin to bloat and pulsate as he filled me with his scalding issue. I came at the same time flooding my knickers with my slick, slippery spend, waves of pleasure radiating from my cock-filled anus. We lay in each other’s arms, locked together in a tight embrace as our orgasms peaked and then we basked in the afterglow,” Julia’s eyes were still closed but she was smiling.

“Fortunately I’d had the sense to ruck my gown up around my waist when Tim laid me on the bed because his semen began to dribble out of my anus, and when he retracted his deflating member from my sphincter a flood of spunk and a modicum of ejectamenta dribbled down between my legs. I quickly ripped the pillowcase off one of pillows and used it soak up the mess and wipe away the excess jism from the front of my knickers,” Julia gave a wry smile at the memory.

“I somehow got to my feet without staining my dress and did my best to look dignified. Tim was putting on his trousers and shoes whilst his fellow prefects waited for him. They had finished with Betty who was lying on her bed smoking a post-coital cigarette and looking smug. Tim came over to me looking a little embarrassed with a meek smile on his face. ‘See you tomorrow Julia. Come to my dorm after the show,’ he kissed me quickly on the lips and he and his acolytes left, closing the door softly behind them,” Julia opened her eyes and looked at Susan.

“I have used the word concubine many times during my confessions. In past times, a concubine was often a slave whose rights and obligations varied tremendously according to her master's whim. I became Timothy Valentine’s concubine for the remainder of his time at the Chelmsford Academy. Seniors had the luxury of single rooms and every evening I would transform into Julia and visit Tim in his room,” Julia confessed.

“How he treated me depended on his mood but he mostly treated me well. He even bought me lingerie and jewellery. I kept a small wardrobe in the dorm I shared with Byron who kept his own little stash of feminine paraphernalia and often presented as Betty and ‘entertained’ some of the prefects while I was attending to Tim.”

“I think Tim had genuine affection for me although of course he never displayed it outside the confines of his dorm. Depending on his whim I might be summarily bent over and fucked viciously and then sent away or he might take me into his bed and we would spend all night making love. I think he subconsciously loathed himself for having a deep affection for a transvestite just as I secretly loathed myself for falling in love with him,” Julia sighed.

“I now know that what I really felt was infatuation. I was obsessed with Tim. I felt euphoric when I was in his presence. As Justin I disliked him. He and his cronies continued to bully Byron and me because they had to maintain the sham. But when I presented as Julia and Tim held me close and kissed me and told me that I was beautiful and that he thought about me all the time, I forgave him. Never once did Tim touch my penis and he preferred it if he never saw it. I kept my knickers on during sex and often wore tights so I could keep it tucked away. He couldn’t bare it that I was really a boy dressed as girl but he couldn’t stop summoning me to his room,” Julia stopped talking and took a long drink of water.

“I think we should end it there. We have a lot to discuss next time we meet. This is the first time I have heard you use the word love and I think we need to explore your symbiotic relationship with Timothy Valentine a little further,” Susan said.

Susan made some final notes in her notebook while Julia put on her heels. She showed Julia to the door and then closed and locked it.

The waistband of Susan’s tights dug into her wrist when she lifted her skirt, put her hand inside her knickers and rubbed out a quick orgasm. After an earth-shattering climax she adjusted her underwear, smoothed out her skirt and told her receptionist to send in the next patient.

To be continued…

Things They Made Me Do - Chapter 4

Author:

Michele Nylons

Caution:

CAUTION

Audience Rating:

EXPLICIT CONTENT

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Crossdressing

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

The Chelmsford Academy – Part Two

Susan Bradshaw sat at her desk reviewing the notes she had taken during her three counselling sessions with Julia Wallace. Susan was intrigued by Julia, not just as a client but also as a person. She was obviously wealthy and came from money, she exuded an air of entitlement and superiority but so far her story had been tragic. Susan had a few male to female transgender clients over the years and she knew that sexual abuse was more common than it should be. It seemed that some men immediately thought that transwomen were promiscuous for some reason.

Julia had confessed that she had been confused about her gender identity and sexuality when she was younger and that she had been taken advantage of by the men in her life. Her father despised her for being who she was and had sent her to a strict boarding school where she was bullied. Her uncle had blackmailed her into providing sexual services and had even invited one of his friends to participate and a prefect at her boarding school had also compelled her to offer herself sexually after being betrayed by her best friend.

What Susan found surprising was that Julia claimed to have fallen in love with Timothy Valentine, an older prefect who used Julia, in her own words, as a concubine.

Susan was of a mind that Julia was suffering from Stockholm syndrome which is a proposed condition or theory that tries to explain why hostages sometimes develop a psychological bond with their captors. It is supposed to result from a rather specific set of circumstances, namely the power imbalances contained in hostage-taking, kidnapping, and abusive relationships. The psychiatric community were bifurcated as to whether the syndrome actually existed. Susan thought that to some extent Julia Wallace was a hostage at the Chelmsford Academy and her relationship with Tim Valentine was abusive.

Susan would like to explore Julia’s relationship with Timothy Valentine further during their forthcoming session and also explore Julia’s confession that if the price she had to pay to have her femininity validated was to allow herself to be sexually violated, she was willing to pay it. These had been Julia’s own words when they had argued about the preposterous theory that if rape was inevitable then the woman should endure it and if possible enjoy it.

Susan could see a pattern of systematic abuse developing and was eager to provide Julia with some coping tools to deal with the consequences. Julia claimed that she had suppressed the memories of the sexual encounters and they had only recently surfaced. Up until then Julia had believed that she was sent to boarding school by her father because he had caught her crossdressed while drinking his liquor. Julia had blanked out the sexual encounters with her uncle. She also remembered being bullied in boarding school but not being, for all intents and purposes, Timothy Valentine's sex slave. She recalled being forced to fag for him but not the sex nor her devotion to him.

Something must have happened, a trigger of some sort, which caused Julia Wallace to suddenly remember the sexual abuse. There was no doubt that Julia felt guilty not only about being used sexually, but also her compliance and complicity.

Which brought Susan to her next dilemma? She had asked Julia not to be so sexually descriptive and explicit when describing her sexual encounters but Julia had ignored Susan and told her that she found it cathartic to confess to someone all of the intricacies, machinations and minutia of each of her encounters. At this stage of their doctor-patient relationship Susan was of a mindset that Julia was telling Susan the explicit details about her encounters to absolve herself of guilt. This seemed fair to Susan because that is exactly what a psychiatrist is supposed to do. Listen to their clients and not make judgements.

However, Susan was also disturbed about her own responses and impulses when Julia confessed the details of her sordid past. Susan found herself becoming sexually aroused as she pictured each of the scenarios. Susan was a lesbian in a loving relationship with another woman but there was something about Julia’s stories that titillated her to the point where on completion of the last session she had masturbated, imagining that it was she not Julia who was bent over Tim Valentine’s bed being vigorously fucked.

It was something Susan would have to bring up with her own psychiatrist during her next session but for now she had Julia Wallace to contend with. She looked up as her wall clock struck the hour and she pressed the button on the intercom and asked her receptionist to send in Julia.

Julia entered wearing another skirt-suit and Susan wondered if Julia came to her therapy sessions straight from work. Susan knew little about Julia's current domestic and professional situation because they had been concentrating on dealing with Julia’s past.

Julia's suit was bone-white, her hosiery almost transparent and her heels were also white, red-bottomed Louboutin’s. Her makeup was heavy but perfect as usual and a miasma of Dior Poison preceded her into the room. Without any preamble Julia took off her jacket, kicked off her heels, poured herself a glass of water and settled into the chaise lounge. Susan, who was wearing a navy pencil skirt, mauve satin blouse, black sheer hose and black high heels, settled into the plush seat beside the lounge, smoothed her skirt under her bottom and rested the notebook in her lap, pen poised.

“We finished last week with me stating my intent to explore your assertion that you loved Timothy Valentine,” Susan began.

“Yes, as I said, I think he subconsciously loathed himself for having a deep affection for a transvestite just as I secretly loathed myself for falling in love with him. I now know that I was just infatuated with him because he validated my femininity. It was around that time that I was seriously thinking about how I could live full time as a woman,” Julia explained.

“You also said that Tim was insistent that he not see your penis. This to some extent validates your hypothesis. He bullies and belittles Julian Wallace but he venerates Julia Wallace. So long as he never has to see your penis there is no link between the two,” Susan explained.

“That’s exactly as I see it. He bullied me into fagging for him, which gave me the perfect excuse to be in and around his dorm at all hours. I always wore tights or very tight knickers whenever we had sex so that my penis remained tucked away out of sight. Of course there were instances when I became aroused and even climaxed but I never freed my penis from my tights or knickers,” Julia blushed.

“As I said, depending on his mood Tim would want me to satisfy him quickly: I’d give him a quick blowjob or he would just bend me over and fuck me or, if he was in the mood, we would spend hours making love. He was a bit Jekyll and Hyde like that. As his graduation drew closer he became paranoid about anyone finding out about us. Throwing a fuck into a crossdressed sissy was a lark but showing her genuine affection and spending the night with her might be construed as suspect to the upper and middle classes,” Julia sniffed.

“Our final meeting sums up our relationship perfectly. Tim had requested that I wear the red sleeveless spaghetti strap satin evening gown, with the split in one side that I had worn as my costume in the play. My own hair was still short so I wore the glossy raven blunt-cut bob. I looked exactly like I did the first night he fucked me, which I thought was fitting,” Julia’s eyes glazed as she recalled the events of the evening.

“As instructed I was waiting for Tim in his dorm when he returned from his House bar where his classmates had thrown a farewell party. He’d been drinking but wasn’t drunk. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me passionately, one hand instinctively clutching my buttocks the other sliding inside my dress to caress my thighs. He loved playing with my legs and with my bottom and he would even graze the front of my knickers with his fingers, marvelling at the perfect Vee I created in them.”

“I had dimmed the lights and lit scented candles and my perfume was heavy and almost cloying. I thrust my tongue into Tim’s mouth while his tongue explored my mouth. He traced the seam on my stocking at the back of my leg right up to the welt where he paused and fiddled with my garter snap then he tickled the creamy soft flesh above my stocking tops while his other hand stroked by buttocks through my knickers. I clung to him, breathing heavily, snaking a hand down his body so I could caress his bloated appendage through his trousers.”

“I was becoming tumescent myself, my cock becoming engorged, tucked away between my legs. The gusset of my tight satin knickers strained to keep my penis in place while Tim’s fingers flittered over the Vee in the front of my knickers and then drifted across to my other leg to begin all over again. I unzipped him and freed his rampant penis from his trousers and lightly caressed it using my fingertips and my red-painted fingernails. Tim gasped and grabbed my buttocks and squeezed them.”

“‘You are so beautiful Julia, I’m going to miss you, sweetheart,’ he whispered and my heart soared. He kissed me again for little while then his hands went to my shoulders and I took my cue and dropped to my knees. His cock was level with my face and I greedily drew it into my mouth and suckled it, sliding my lipsticked lips up and down the shaft while my tongue concentrated on his glans. I used the tip of my tongue to lap at his fraenulum and my mouth filled with his sweet-salty precum,” Julia licked her lips as she recalled the incident.

“I could feel Tim’s cock begin to pulse which I knew indicated that he was approaching extremis and I waited for the cue. If he wanted me to finish him with my mouth he would rest his hands on my head or if he wanted to fuck he’d lift me to my feet. He lifted me to my feet and kissed me while he guided me to his bed. I lay on the bed, showing all of one leg through the slit in my dress and sucked my finger seductively while I watched him undress. I could see adoration and desire in his eyes as he beheld my pretty face, my slim body sheathed in the red satin dress, my cushiony buttocks and my long legs clad in the sheer dark hosiery.”

“I wanted our last evening together to be special and when Tim was naked, his pale body marbled with muscle, his long slender penis standing proud and erect, I felt my knickers become a little wet with precum in anticipation. He lay down beside me and kissed me, rubbing his cock on my stocking-sheathed thighs. I knew he liked the feel of my diaphanous nylons on his flesh so I trapped his cock between my thighs so he could hump them,” Julia smiled to herself as she relived the event.

“His lips were pressed against mine, his tongue was in my mouth and his hand was stroking my leg. Between kisses he showered me with flattery, telling me what a gorgeous sexy girl I was and that he adored me. I cuddled up to him closer and stroked his bloated manhood, anxious to feel it inside me for the last time,” Julia’s face flushed with embarrassment.

“Tim rolled me over on my back and stuffed a pillow under the arch of my back. He knelt between my legs, his cock proud, leaking a constant dribble of clear glossy pre-ejaculate. I opened my legs for him, gathering my dress up out of the way, exposing my stocking-sheathed legs, and my panty-clad pubis. Tim rubbed his cock on my thigh, leaving a snail-trail of silvery precum on my stocking, his cock edging closer and closer to my bottom.”

“Tim smiled at me as he eased aside the gusset of my knickers and slipped his cock into the crevice, searching for the entrance to my tight, slick anus. As part of my toilette I was douched and pre-lubricated and his glans pressed into my puckered bud. I wrapped my legs around him and smiled lovingly at him as Tim lowered himself on top of me so he could kiss me as his sleek shaft pierced my crinkled entrance.”

“He slid his tongue into my mouth at the same time as he slid his engorged phallus deep inside me. I hissed and groaned around his kisses and I felt his lips curl up in a smile. He knew that when he first penetrated me, it was painful and he was considerate and he lay still, just kissing me while my anus stretched and accommodated his steely rod. ‘Ready?’ he whispered and I locked my legs around his waist and ground my buttocks against him, indicating to him that I was indeed ready. I could feel his scrotum slapping against my knickers and I knew that he adored the feel of my satin panties rubbing on his sac.”

“He began to slowly thrust his cock in and out of my tight channel, withdrawing it until just the tip was girded by my tight furrowed ring then he would gradually but deliberately impale me, driving his cock all the way inside me. My sphincter radiated sparklets of intense pleasure as my prostate emitted a warm, satisfying glow that spread through my lower body. My cock was hard, flat against my abdomen, veiled by my satin knickers, his hard belly pressing on it. If he sensed it, he said nothing. My guess was that because he couldn’t actually see it, it didn’t matter.”

“I kissed him deeply while we copulated, extracting every scintilla of pleasure from each other’s body, his cock sliding in and out of me with slowly quickening strokes, my legs scissoring on his flanks so that my stockings glided over his sensitive flesh, my high heels gazing his back, encouraging him. Tim returned my kisses and he drove his tongue into my mouth and I gasped as I felt his penis suddenly pulsate. I held him close and ground my body against him, my arms locked around his neck, my legs gripping his torso as he expressed himself deep inside me.”

“I felt his cock quiver and pulsate. I felt his issue fill my tight anus. I smelled the musk of his spunk as it dribbled out of me. His tight belly pressed against my satin-swathed penis and I ejaculated, soaking my knickers. We lay like that for a long time, Tim’s cock still buried inside me, occasionally pulsing as the last of his spend dribbled from the glans, his mouth pressed against mine, our lips locked and our tongues entwined.”

“I began to cry. I knew that this would be the last time that I would make love to Timothy Valentine, the man who treated me like shit and bullied me outside of his bedroom but coveted and cosseted me when we lay together,” Julia sighed.

“So Tim really did feel something for you, there was affection there besides the bullying,” Susan scribbled a note in her booklet.

“Oh, I haven’t finished my story yet,” Julia said, a little annoyed to be interrupted.

“‘After tonight we can talk about this. No one outside of my close circle of friends and your little piggy friend Betty can ever know about us. It will be like it never happened,’ Tim suddenly became serious and I sensed his mood swing,” Julia continued.

“‘Of course. I won’t tell a soul,’ I replied feeling sad that our relationship was coming to an end. ‘But how do I know that I can trust you? What if you were to suddenly reappear in my life at some later point, maybe with the intent to blackmail me,’ Timothy rolled off me and was looking at me not with adoration but with suspicion. ‘But that would also embarrass and humiliate me too. I would have to admit that I was your crossdressed concubine,’ I replied to him, trying to belay his fears.”

“‘I think I might need some insurance,’ Timothy leapt off the bed and opened the door to his room. His two pals, Oliver and Sebastian, the prefects who regularly visited Betty in our room, were standing at the door. They had obviously been waiting for Tim to let them in. Oliver was holding a Polaroid SX-70 camera, swinging it by the strap. They entered the room and closed and locked the door. Timothy had always kept me for himself. He’d told me that Oliver and Sebastian had always fancied me but he’d told them that they would have to make do with Betty,” Julia sounded a little conceited to Susan, but she didn’t interrupt.

“‘Alright lads, I’m done with her. Have at her,’ Timothy looked at me with contempt and I knew what was coming next. Once again the adage: 'when rape is inevitable, lie back and enjoy it’ sprang to mind. I know that you and I have differing opinions about this but what was I to do? I was a young crossdresser who had given herself freely to a man who now intended to give me to his friends. They were senior prefects, they had all the power and I had none,” Julia recalled bitterly.

“Timothy pounced on me before I could get off the bed while Oliver and Sebastian quickly shed their clothes, their intent signalled by their hard cocks and the black masquerades masks they put on their faces. ‘I got her Tim,’ Oliver said and took Tim’s place. There was no foreplay, he lifted my legs and pushed his hard cock into my natal cleft. He smiled down at me evilly as he pushed his erect penis inside my tight arsehole. The lubricant and remnants of Timothy’s semen greased the way so thankfully there was little pain because his cock was longer and thicker than Timothy's,” Julia shuddered at the memory.

“‘She’s cum in her knickers the slag,’ Sebastian commented, pointing at the front of my satin panties where my shrivelled penis lay hidden inside the spunk-soaked undergarment. I looked at Tim who was leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette watching his chums defile me. A look of disgust crossed his face when he saw the sticky mess dampening my knickers. ‘Tim’s spunk is making it easier for me to fuck her but she’s a lot tighter than Betty,’ Oliver laughed as he began to fuck me. He made me wrap my legs around him and he lowered his face to mine. When I turned away, he forced me to face him and kiss him.”

“When I kissed him I sensed his cock become harder and his kisses became fervent. My vanity overcame my self-loathing as I realised that his renewed vigour was triggered by my desirability and my feminine guile. ‘God, she’s a cracker Seb,’ Oliver broke the kiss just long enough to speak to his friend. ‘Well give me a go then,’ Sebastian had climbed on the bed and his cock was inches from my face.

“Sebastian pushed his cock into my face and bounced it on my lips. ‘Open up Julia, there’s a good girl,’ Sebastian chuckled. What else could I do? I opened my mouth and Sebastian pushed his cock inside it. Instinctively, my lips closed around his sleek shaft and my tongue lashed his glans and I heard him mew. The perverse part of me was thrilled that Oliver and Sebastian found me beautiful and desirable. Oliver’s cock was stretching my sphincter to the extreme and his big bulbous glans pressed on my prostate and my body responded accordingly. Intense pleasure began to radiate from my anus and my cock hardened again,” Julia admitted.

“I suckled Sebastian’s penis and lashed it with my tongue and I raised my buttocks off the bed to meet Oliver’s thrusts, scouring my stocking-clad limbs on his flesh to encourage him. ‘I always knew you were a whore!’ Timothy growled. I was galled at the irony of my lover calling me a slattern. The man who had enjoyed my company almost every night for the last year, who used me as his fuck puppet was calling me a whore. The man who was finished with me and had given me to his friends to defile,” Julia said bitterly.

“Then I was suddenly blinded by a flash in the dark room. Timothy was taking pictures with the camera. He took some shots of me lying on the bed being fucked by Oliver whilst I fellated Sebastian and then he took a couple of close-ups of my face, with my lips locked around Sebastian’s cock. ‘There’s a good whore. These are going to turn out great,’ Tim laid the exposed pictures side by side on the desk to allow them to set.”

“I knew what he was doing but I was too busy attending to the two young men defiling me. Oliver’s big cock was ploughing my anus, he was driving it in and out of my tight hole vigorously, lighting up my pleasure centres while Sebastian was plunging his cock in and out of my mouth as I sucked and slathered at it. My cock was rampant, tenting my knickers, and I was close to extremis. Suddenly Oliver drove me down into the bed and bellowed as he jackhammered his cock in and out of my rectum. I could feel his cock shudder as his scalding semen filled my void. I locked my legs around him and held him close as I ejaculated in my knickers again,” Julia’s eyes were screwed tight as she recalled every detail of her ravishment.

“Sebastian witnessed his friend orgasm and saw that I was complicit, holding Oliver tight against my body with my legs. He saw the glutinous globules of spunk burst through my satin knickers as I flooded them and he released his load into my mouth. He pulled his cock from my mouth and sprayed my face with his milt and then stuck it back in my mouth. I sucked every drop of jism from his hard cock until I had drained it and then Sebastian pulled his phallus from my face and leapt off the bed. Oliver whipped his cock out of my arse and stood next to his friend beside the bed looking down at me as Timothy took some final snaps of me lying on the bed with my skirt hiked up, my knickers soaked with cum juices and my pretty face smeared with Sebastian’s semen. I looked exactly like the whore that Timothy had called me,” Julia took a deep, withering breath.

“Oliver and Sebastian took off their masks and dressed. Timothy was already dressed and the three young men took great pleasure in perusing the photographs he had taken. ‘Mommy and daddy would be very disappointed in you Julia, I’m sure. And if I was ever to show these pictures to a prospective employer I’m sure they would reconsider,’ Timothy pointed to the pornographic pictures on the desk. ‘Even with that wig and makeup I can tell that its Julian dressed as a girl so I’m sure anyone I showed these too would recognise you too. I’d like you to leave now Julia and I never want to see you again. If I do ever see you again, you can guarantee that I will have these handy,’ Timothy gathered the pictures and put them in an envelope.”

“I walked down the corridor to my dorm and found Byron Rumsfeld dressed as Betty lying on her bed smoking a cigarette. She had become quite the slut and had a small posse of students who came to our room to avail themselves of her talents almost every night. I knew that, like me, she found validation in being desired in her feminine guise. As ‘Piggy’ she was vilified and bullied but as ‘Betty’ she was an object of desire for those who fancied our type. She had betrayed me and offered me to Timothy Valentine to save herself but I couldn’t blame her.”

“‘Oh my god what has he done to you?’ Betty jumped off the bed and took me in her arms and consoled me. I cried it all out and told her what the man I thought I loved had done. ‘You're well rid of him and I’m well rid of Oliver and Sebastian. Tomorrow they will be gone and we never have to see them again,’ Betty held me close and patted me on the back,” Julia sighed at the recollection.

“And that was that. I set my resolve to put it all out of my mind. I was finished with being used by men. I ditched all my female paraphernalia and the next day I asked to be moved into a single dorm as was my entitlement now that I was about to become a senior. It wasn’t that easy of course. It took all of my willpower and but eventually the memories faded and I replaced them with others. I suppressed the urge to crossdress until I graduated and then I made the decision that eventually I would live my life as a woman but as a strong woman who would no longer be the plaything of lecherous men,” Julia straightened her skirt and visibly relaxed on the chaise lounge.

It was if unburdening herself of the recently returned memories had somehow refreshed and renewed her.

“Well I must say that I’m glad that we have gotten through the worst of your retrieved memories. How do you feel now?” Susan asked.

“I feel unburdened. I can’t believe I disremembered the things they made me do. Now that I have acknowledged and confessed to someone what happened I think I can move on with my life,” Julia sighed.

“Well we have done the hard work but there is still more to come. We need to work together to deal with the mental anguish that recalling those incidents may have done to your psyche,” Susan patted Julia’s knee.

“Also I am duty bound to ask you if you want to report Timothy Valentine and his two accomplices to the authorities. I remind you again that the United Kingdom has no statute of limitations for criminal offences beyond minor summary offences,” Susan stated.

“How can I? I would have to go to court and tell people what happened. As I have told you, I felt complicit even willing. I never fought the men who took advantage of me, I never told anyone other than Betty. I even enjoyed it, I climaxed when they did those things to me. I convinced myself that their lust for me validated my femininity. I was Tim’s willing concubine,” tears streamed down Julia’s face.

“Many victims and survivors blame themselves for what happened to them. They feel guilty, or feel ashamed. These feelings of shame, guilt and self-blame can be very hard to deal with. But, if you are feeling like this, you are not alone - it's a really common response,” Susan ripped a handful of tissues from the box on the table and handed them to Julia then she continued.

“It’s not unusual that you feel like you were 'asking for it' or that you are 'dirty' or there is something wrong with you. You think that if you had done something differently, then it wouldn't have happened. These feelings make it really hard to talk about what happened or to get support. But you are through that now,” Susan patted Julia’s knee again, this time leaving her hand there briefly.

“The only people who are to blame for what happened are the perpetrators,” Susan removed her hand from Julia’s knee.

“I came to see you because you guarantee confidentiality. I don’t want to report those men to the authorities and have to tell them what happened. Anyway even if I did it would be ‘he said – she said’. Timothy Valentine still has those pictures. I can just imagine them being passed around a jury. I can imagine the members of the jury looking up from those pictures then looking at me,” Julia’s mood changed from sorrow to anger.

“You're projecting Julia. I’m no legal expert but I’m sure that your counsel could have them supressed or whatever. The case would likely be heard in closed court. Anyway you don’t even know if Mister Valentine still has the pictures,” Susan replied.

“He still has them. You haven’t asked what triggered my recollections,” Julia looked Susan squarely in the eyes.

“Retraumatization is usually caused by an event that immediately reminds you of a fear that was experienced during a previous traumatic event. It may happen when, because of a triggering event, circumstances remind you of earlier trauma,” Susan explained.

“Exactly, and that’s how I know that Timothy Valentine still has the photographs. I saw him two months ago although it is more accurate to say that he saw me first,” Julia said through gritted teeth.

“You have no idea what it was like being trans woman back in the days when I made the bold move to finally live my life as a woman. Up until then I was still what people refer to as a ‘closet crossdresser’. In the evenings and at weekends I would live as Julia but I presented as Julian out in public. I got a job in advertising which suited my artistic skills combined with my business acumen,” Julia smiled at the memory.

“I quickly rose through the ranks working as a copywriter, graphic designer, market researcher and finally became a creative director for a large advertising firm based in London. I frequented trans-friendly establishments outside of work where I met others like myself and of course I encountered many ‘tranny-chasers’ who I confess I sometimes took as lovers,” Julia blushed.

“But then daddy died. Mother had already passed and of course daddy left everything to my sister Belinda. I was cut out of the will. But Belinda thought it only fair that I receive my share of the substantial inheritance and she gave me half.”

“I quit my job and essentially went into hiding while I had my surgeries and started hormone therapy. I was finally able to become the woman I always wanted to be. The legalities were complicated and too time consuming to go into but I was able to legally change my name. Actually legally changing my gender was not possible for some time,” Julia sighed.

“I came out of hiding and set up my own small agency and was soon successful. Very few people recognised me from my former life and those that did gracefully kept schtum. I moved mainly among people associated with the arts where flamboyance and queerness was often the norm.”

“My business grew and I was making a lot of money and by the time I was able to legally change my gender I was for all intent and purposes a woman anyway. I didn’t advertise my transgender identity but I didn’t hide it either. I’d buried those bad memories. Of course I still remembered my early life: being found crossdressed by mommy and daddy, acting in the female role in the play at the Chelmsford Academy, dressing up with Betty in our dorm room in the evenings, fagging for Timothy Valentine but I couldn’t recall the incidents with Uncle Charlie and his friend or being Timothy’s concubine,” Julia paused to take a sip of water.

“I was at a party about two months ago when I ran into Timothy Valentine for the first time since I had left the Chelmsford Academy. He hadn't changed that much. Sure he was older but he was still fit and still remarkably handsome. The party was for the launch of a new fashion label and my company had the advertising contract. Tim was on the board of the company but I didn’t know that of course,” Julia continued.

“To be honest when we met I didn’t think he recognised me as the person he once knew as Julian Wallace who had been his fag at college. He was polite and attentive and he even introduced me to me his wife, an attractive, vapid woman at least ten years younger than he,” Susan picked up on Julia's dislike for the woman and even felt there might be a tinge of jealousy.

“I didn’t think anything of it really; I had sometimes encountered people from my past who had no idea that they had once known me as Julian. But Tim had recognised me and what happened when I met him again triggered the recollections of what really happened to me in my late teens and early twenties,” Julia smoothed her skirt nervously.

“I would like to stop you there Julia. Let’s pick this up at our next session,” Susan looked up at the clock and then back at Julia.

Julia alighted from the lounge and stepped into her heels and put on her jacket and was ready to leave when Susan stepped into her very closely and put her hands on Julia's upper arms.

“You really are a brave and courageous woman. I know that this is hard but you have to realise that none of what you told me is your fault,” Susan locked eyes with Julia.

Susan could smell Julia’s Dior Poison and up this close she could see that Julia was a very beautiful woman despite her age. This closeness was disconcerting and Susan was feeling things that were very inappropriate for a psychiatrist to feel for a patient.

Julia wrapped her arms around Susan and hugged her. This was not uncommon after a particularly intense counselling session and Susan allowed it. Then Julia brushed her lips against Susan’s catching her off guard. Susan should have stepped away and established professional boundaries but instead she let Julia kiss her and she responded, closed mouthed. Then Julia slipped her tongue into Susan’s mouth and held her tight and Susan let her. Then she disentangled herself from Julia’s embrace and cleared her throat.

“This is something else we should talk about during our next session. It’s called transference and it is not uncommon for a patient to experience sexual or romantic feelings about their therapist. Let’s call it a day for now,” Susan purposefully walked to the door and opened it for Julia who left the room without saying another word.

Susan closed and locked the door to her office and pressed the button on her intercom.

“Give me fifteen minutes before you send in the next patient please Wendy,” Julia tried to sound professional.

Susan fell into her chair and struggled to hike up her pencil skirt. She put her hand to her pubis and discovered that the crotch of her knickers and tights were wet with vaginal juices. She used her fingers to rub out an orgasm that was so intense that she bit the back of her other hand to stifle her moans.

To be continued…

Things They Made Me Do - Chapter 5

Author:

Michele Nylons

Audience Rating:

EXPLICIT CONTENT

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Chapter Five - Shady Lady – Part One

Julia Wallace arrived at the practice of Susan Bradshaw feeling a little trepidatious. She wondered if she should even be seeing Susan after of the incident at the end of their last session when they had kissed. Susan had hugged Julia after Julia had told her harrowing tale and Julia had misread the situation and had kissed Susan. Susan had tolerated the closed-mouthed, almost sisterly, kiss but when Julia’s kiss became impassioned Susan had rightfully disengaged.

Julia had totally misread the situation. Susan was offering her a professional psychiatric service and had hugged Julia to give her comfort and support and Julia had tried to turn it into a passionate embrace. Julia felt both embarrassed and ashamed but also a little rejected. She smoothed her skirt and fiddled with the buttons on her blouse nervously as she sat waiting in reception. Wendy, Susan’s receptionist, had offered her coffee and Julia felt that Wendy was taking her inventory.

Did Wendy see an entitled, wealthy, professional woman, a successful businesswoman, or did she see a woman who was weak and needed psychiatric help just to stay sane? How much of her patient’s confidences did Susan disclose to Wendy? Did Wendy transcribe Susan’s scribbled notes into the patient files? Did Wendy know that Julia was Trans? Not that Julia cared these days who knew and who didn’t. She had lived most of her life as a transwoman and found that most people accepted her and why wouldn’t they? She was attractive and feminine and very good at her job.

Julia was not a Trans warrior. She had suffered prejudices and derision by some when she came out in the eighties but she rose above it all and become a successful businesswoman and she thought that young transwomen nowadays were living in a more accepting society and didn't need to listen to some ‘business bitch’ dressed in Prada lecturing them from behind a microphone. She didn’t belong to any Trans advocacy organisations but she did make regular contributions to Trans Unite. She was not open in the sense that she wore her transness on her sleeve but she wasn’t secretive about it either.

The advertising world rubbed up against the arts and fashion spheres where the LGBTI community was well represented. Christ even her physiatrist was a lesbian!

‘Stop it!’ Julia said to herself in her head, trying to clear her mind of her jumbled thoughts.

The truth was that Wendy had noticed what Julia was wearing: an elegant pink skirt-suit featuring a lapel collared, long sleeve peplum blazer and high waisted split skirt, a pristine white, almost transparent silk blouse, Wolford Individual 10 Tights (nearly forty pounds, thank you very much!) and white Jimmy Choo Romy 100 ivory satin pointy-toe pumps. Julia had paid particular attention to her hair and makeup before she stepped out and tried to convince herself she had done so for herself, not to please Susan Bradshaw.

Susan's practice attracted affluent clientele and Wendy was used to seeing clients dressed fashionably but she thought that Julia Wallace was one of the few women of affluence who, as some were want say, ‘wore the clothes and didn’t let her clothes wear her’. Wendy had to admit she felt a little jealous of Julia and envied her confident, stylish demeanour, totally unaware that Julia felt very vulnerable at that particular moment in time.

“Please send in Miz Wallace,” Susan Bradshaw’s authoritative voice came over the intercom and Wendy nodded at Julia who alighted from the plush chair and made her way to the door to the therapy room.

Susan greeted Julia cordially; giving her a beatific comforting smile which Julia suspected was practiced and offered to all her patients.

“Please,” Susan gestured to the chaise lounge and Julia as usual took off her jacket, kicked off her heels and settled into the comfortable sofa.

Julia noticed that Susan was also wearing a skirt-suit, navy-blue pinstripe, fitted to her slim figure, a cerise satin camisole blouse, shimmery tan nylons and black high heels. She looked both business-like and attractive and her makeup seemed a little heavier or maybe Julia was just imagining it. Susan sat in her usual place, close by the chaise lounge and opened her notebook.

“Before we continue I think we need to address what occurred at the end of our last session. I explained to you about transference and that it is not uncommon for a patient to experience sexual or romantic feelings about their therapist,” Susan used a professional tone but she blushed slightly.

“I was going to ask if I should stop seeing you. Perhaps you should refer me to another psychiatrist?” Julia also blushed.

“Oh heavens no! We have come so far and we about to make what I think is a significant breakthrough. As I explained, the lapse in decorum that we observed has nothing to do with me personally. That is you weren’t attracted to me specifically as much as you were attracted to my station as your psychiatrist. You have told me the most intimate details and developed a trust in me which momentarily metamorphosed as desire,” Susan explained.

“I think we should continue but I’m happy to refer you on to another psychiatrist should you prefer it,” Susan said.

“No. I agree with you that under your care and guidance I am better able to deal with my past and the suppressed memories that have recently begun to haunt me,” Julia replied.

She smoothed out her skirt and wiggled her toes as Julia was want to do when she was nervous.

“We finished our last session with you about to tell me what had caused your retraumatization, which as I explained, is usually caused by an event that immediately reminds you of a fear that was experienced during a previous traumatic event. You said that Timothy Valentine had turned up at a social function for the launch of a new fashion label that your company had the advertising contract for. You said that you were surprised to find that Tim was on the board of the company that owned the fashion label,” Susan recounted Julia’s revelation.

“As I said, I had not seen Tim since he left The Chelmsford Academy but I recalled being bullied by him and being forced to fag for him in his final year. I did not recall being blackmailed by him into being his floozy, those memorised were still repressed,” Julia began.

“Timothy was quite polite to me during the evening as was his pretty little trophy wife,” Julia said.

Susan made a note and circled it Jealousy? It was obvious from Julia’s previous comments that she did not like Tim’s wife. That could just be a natural reaction to a woman who Julia had described as vapid or it could be a manifestation of Julia’s repressed memories. Although Julia had been forced to become Timothy Valentine's concubine, she had told Susan that she had fallen in love with him; a love that was not reciprocated except for Timothy’s desire for her sexually.

“If Timothy recognised me as the person who had once been Julian Wallace all those years ago he made no mention of it. During our brief encounter he was polite, attentive and spoke to me mainly about the launch. ‘I must say, I’m impressed with your work. The marketing campaign you have devised for ‘Shady Lady’ is one of the best I’ve seen,’ Timothy complemented me and I must admit I was flattered,” Julia closed her eyes as she recalled the party.

“Timothy was still a handsome man. He was tanned, fit with sun-bleached hair worn fashionably long and was wearing a bespoke suit. I have to admit that I was flattered by him and it amused me that he didn’t recognise me from The Chelmsford Academy but why would he? He’d seen me in drag when I performed as Penelope, the vicious-tongued shrew in the school play, but I had come a long way since then. I have to admit that I flirted with him a little at the party but only to amuse myself,” Julia admitted.

“Shady Lady’s launch had been a huge success. Most women’s fashion labels were targeting younger girls and mature women who wanted to project a youthful appearance. The women’s fashion industry divides consumers into groups based on variables such as age, income, occupation, stage in lifecycle, generation, nationality, race or ethnicity, religion, and social class and typically target women aged sixteen to thirty-five who make up nearly fifty percent of female consumers,” Julia said.

“Shady Lady is aimed at women from thirty-five onwards. It is an all-encompassing brand that offers sophistication at modest prices and sells clothing, lingerie, accessories and shoes. I actually have a few pieces at home that I sometimes wear when now and then,” Susan detected Julia’s subversive distain for chain store fashion.

After all Julia presented herself at the practice wearing brand-label fashion couture and Susan doubted that Julia wore ‘fast fashion’ very often, probably only when required to prove to her clients that she was not above wearing their products. She put aside her prejudices and concentrated on Julia’s story.

“I’d nearly forgotten about the encounter to be honest, then a week after the party I was working late at the office when I suddenly sensed that someone was behind me and I turned my head around and there was Timothy Valentine leaning on the door jamb. It was obvious that he had been drinking because I could smell the alcohol. Even so, he was steady on his feet and had his wits about him. I must admit that when he smiled at me my heart fluttered a little,” Julia cleared her throat nervously.

“He looked dashing in eveningwear. I was wearing a Shady Lady red skirt-suit, heels and sheer smoky-grey tights because I’d been to a store opening that day and I thought it appropriate that I wear garments manufactured by the label I was representing. ‘How long have been standing there?’ I asked him. ‘Long enough to admire the view,’ he replied cheekily,” Julia gave a wry smile as she recalled the encounter.

“I had been bent over the desk with my back to the door using a loupe to study some shots my photographer had taken that morning and I'm sure my big arse was stretching that skirt,” Julia blushed.

Susan thought that Julia’s arse was perfect: big, soft and rounded, unlike her wife’s skinny little butt. Susan’s wife was a gym junkie and only ate boring nutritious organic produce; no dairy or meat allowed. If she suspected that she had put on ounce of fat she ran off to a spin class and ate nothing but rabbit food for a week. But Susan’s admiration for Julia’s looks and physique had already nearly derailed their doctor-patient relationship and she cleared her mind and allowed Julia to continue.

“It all started innocently enough. ‘May I?’ Timothy nodded at the small bar I kept in the corner of my office near the space I used for relaxed business meetings. I nodded back to him and he weaved his way around the couch and plush chairs to the bar and poured scotch over ice. ‘You?’ he smiled at me and I nodded. I was about to finish up and go home. It was after eleven and everyone else had left the office,” Julia explained.

“I should have sent him packing. I blame myself for what happened next,” a tear ran down Julia’s cheek and Susan offered her tissues.

“You are not a victim and you are not to blame. I have to keep reminding you Julia because you keep admonishing yourself. Please continue if you can,” Susan patted Julia’s shoulder.

Susan would never admit it but she was becoming aroused. She could well imagine Julia bent over the desk with her ample buttocks stretching the fabric of the cheap skirt. The kick pleat would be open and Julia’s long legs clad in the silky smoky-grey tights would be on display. She was likely playing with one high heel with her toes as she concentrated on the loupe. Her hair would be tousled from where she had absentmindedly played with it while she worked. Timothy Wallace would have been standing in the doorway admiring the view. Although Susan was a lesbian the thought of a man secretly ogling Julia’s buttocks and legs was a turn-on. She cleared her mind and began to listen intently to Julia as she continued.

“‘You're here late and how did you know where I work,’ I asked Tim as he handed me my drink. ‘I sit on the board of directors of the company that has a controlling interest in Shady Lady so I have people who find out things for me, like where your office is located,’ Tim smiled at me, amused by his own self-confidence. ‘I’ve had an evening at my club, White’s, have you heard of it? Anyway I was on my way home and my driver took me past your building and I saw a light on so I dropped in on spec to see if you were here,’ Timothy said by way of explanation.”

“Of course I found his story implausible. I knew that White's is the oldest gentlemen's club in the city and is considered by many to be the most exclusive private club in London and that even now it declines to accept women as members. It was just the type of establishment that Timothy Valentine would patron I thought. But it is located on St James's Street in a Grade I listed building and Tim’s driver must have been taking a very circuitous route out of the city to pass my office,” Julia sniffed.

“‘It would appear that your driver took a rather circuitous route and you took quite a chance coming to my office expecting me to be here so late,’ I said to Tim who smiled at me and replied. ‘I must ask, do you not remember me from the Chelmsford Academy?’ he was smiling smugly when he said it and I blanched. He’d clocked me,” Julia recalled.

“‘Yes but you knew me as Julian Wallace then. You and your chums took quite a vile pleasure in bullying me and Byron Rumsfeld. You made me fag for you even though the custom had been abolished,’ I replied quite angrily. ‘I suppose you were shocked when you found out that I am now a woman?’ I said indignantly.”

“‘Oh my god! You mean Piggy Rumsfeld, your roommate and fellow crossdresser,’ Tim chuckled. ‘I’d forgotten all about Betty. She was quite the strumpet,’ Timothy chuckled a second time. ‘If you're referring to our roles in the farce I would hardly call Betty’s role a strumpet. In the play the two husbands had unknowingly cuckolded each other but neither Penelope nor Betty were loose women,’ I corrected him or at least thought I had. You have to remember that I had forgotten all about being made to have sex with Uncle Charlie and his strange chum and being Tim’s concubine,” Julia said solemnly.

“So you were alone in your office with a man who knew you as Julia and with whom you’d had a long-term sexual relationship but you were oblivious to the fact other than you were his fag at Chelmsford. That must have been terrifying looking back on it,’ Susan scribbled a few notes and encouraged Julia to continue.

“Tim looked very carefully at me; he scrutinised me in fact and then I saw a spark of understanding. ‘You don’t remember do you Julia?’ he smiled at me evilly. ‘I don’t remember what?’ I replied naïvely. ‘Well they say a picture paints a thousand words. Come over to the desk and look at these,’ Tim strode over to the desk and lay out half a dozen Polaroids. They had faded a little over the years but they were sharp enough for the subjects of the photographs to be easily recognisable,” Julia reached for a tissue and dabbed at her eyes.

“I was speechless. I recognised myself lying on Timothy’s bed, my legs spread wide while Oliver Crotchet buggered me and Sebastian Cole had his penis in my mouth. They were both wearing masks but as my memories flooded back I remembered exactly who they were and what they were doing. I looked from picture to picture witnessing the depravity. There was nothing in the pictures to indicate that I was anything other than a willing participant. The memories overwhelmed me and I nearly fainted. I almost fell into a chair and put my face in my hands and sobbed.”

“‘You really don’t remember? How could you forget? You were my lover or at least I suppose that’s what you were. You came to my dorm almost every night as Julia and fagged for me during the day as Julian,’ Tim explained.

“‘But… the pictures?’ I was pleading with him. ‘Insurance. Just so you couldn’t threaten me later. I came from a good family and I was going places. I took the pictures so you would know that I could blackmail you. Get up and come over here,” Tim physically hauled me out of the chair and dragged me over to the desk. ‘Use that thing and look at your face,’ Tim put the loupe on top of the first photo. I looked through it and studied my face in each picture. In the ones where I was fellating Sebastian Cole it looked like I was enjoying do so with my eyes filled with desire looking up at him. In the pictures where Oliver Crotchet was fucking me I had my arms and legs wrapped around him and my face was contorted with lust,” Julia sounded disappointed in herself.

“‘That looks like a young lady enjoying herself and you certainly enjoyed yourself with me,’ Tim chuckled. ‘That’s because you had authority over me. I didn’t have any choice,’ I replied but I knew that it was a half-truth. ‘And I have authority over you now. Your company is contracted to one of my subsidiaries and I have these pictures of you which I’m sure you would not like to be leaked to your colleagues, friends and clientele,’ Tim had moved in behind me as I was still leaning over the desk looking at the pictures.”

“‘Is this a Shady Lady ensemble?’ Tim placed his hands on my derriere and I froze. ‘What?’ I was perplexed by this sudden change of tack. ‘It’s a simple question. Is that a Shady Lady skirt suit? Are you wearing my product?’ he repeated. ‘Yes, I was at a Shady Lady boutique opening today and I thought it prudent to wear the product that I am responsible for advertising,’ I replied but I was still confused.”

“‘Well that skirt makes your arse look great and the kick pleat shows off your legs,’ his hand wondered from my buttocks, slipped inside the kick pleat and stroked my thighs. ‘Stop that please,’ I whispered. ‘Or what? Who are you going to tell? I have the pictures and Oliver and Sebastian are members of my club. They will corroborate any story I tell about you when you were younger. When you were a boy pretending to be a girl. When you were my slut. When you lay on my bed and let Oliver fuck you while you sucked Sebastian's cock. Who will believe who?’ Tim squeezed my thigh.”

“My head was spinning not only because I was remembering all the dreadful things I had forgotten about in my past but because history was repeating itself. ‘Are you wearing our underwear too?’ Tim removed his hand and physically turned me around so that I was facing him. ‘Am I what?’ I stammered. ‘Stop repeating everything I say Julia. Just answer me or do as I say without questioning me. Now lift up that skirt, I want to see if you are wearing Shady Lady underwear too,’ Tim tugged on the side of my skirt,” Julie stopped briefly to gulp down some water.

Susan was enthralled by Julia’s tale. Not just professionally because they had finally come to the event that caused Julia’s retraumatization, she was picturing it in her mind and it was arousing her. Her panties were moist and she felt a tingling in her vulva.

“Almost instantly it was like it was all those years ago. I felt subservient and powerless. I suppose I was in shock, anyway I slowly lifted the hem of my skirt up revealing my legs clad in sheer smoky-grey tights. I did it slowly but purposefully and I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that I was also a little aroused. It wasn’t like before when I was just a young crossdresser ensnared by secrecy and the threat of being outed but of course I was still being coerced and I think that freed me in a way.”

“Had Timothy Valentine come to my office and tried to seduce me I would likely have rebuffed him. Not because he wasn’t a handsome and lithesome fellow because he was. It didn’t even matter to me that he was married because I’ve had my share of trysts with married men who were in search of an exotic dalliance. But up until the revelation of the photographs I’d just thought of Tim as the bully I fagged for at college and even though I’d been attracted to him at the party, him being an old school fellow would have made me decline any amorous approach he made. It seemed morally wrong to seduce someone who knew me as a boy at school. Being extorted and coerced meant that to some extent I was free of the moral implications.”

“I stopped when the hem of my skirt was at the top of my legs and Tim just stared at my legs then he reached out and stroked my silken-shrouded flesh. I heard him gasp as I felt his fingers gently caress my thighs. I now recalled that he would spend hours just playing with my legs while we kissed in his dorm room. ‘Keep going,’ he whispered and I did. I lifted the hem of my skirt all the way up to my waist, exposing my almost transparent pink nylon knickers. Tim’s fingers continued their journey up my legs to my crotch. He followed the seam in the gusset of my tights with his fingertips and then he cupped my pubis,” Julia looked like she was shivering and Susan wasn’t sure if it was because of lust or sorrow.

“‘You still have a cock,’ Tim’s hand slid between my legs. I’ve had nearly of all the surgeries that a transwoman can undertake over the years. I’ve a little facial feminisation surgery to define my cheekbones, I’ve had a tracheal shave and of course I have breast implants, in fact I’ve had them changed out twice. But bottom surgery had never appealed to me. I don’t need a designer vagina to feel like a woman. I like the uniqueness of being a woman with a penis and if I’m honest I quite like it when people speculate ‘has she or hasn’t she?’”

“Anyway I seldom tape my tuck when I’m wearing tights with a skirt or dress. I just tuck and let the gusset of my tights keep everything in place. I only really tape my tuck when I’m wearing yoga pants, leggings or skinny jeans. ‘And it still repulses you,’ I whispered. ‘On the contrary my dear, not anymore. Back when I was a foolish young man I thought that touching a cock meant I was gay but touching the appendage of a beautiful woman like yourself is nothing of the sort,’ Tim replied and surprised me by snaking his hands between my legs and rubbing my penis through my knickers and tights.”

“To my shame I began to become tumescent. I’m not sure if Tim was aware of this but he removed his hand from between my legs and resumed stroking my knickers. He yanked at the elastic and leaned over my shoulder to peek. ‘Good girl, I can see the Shady Lady label in the back of your knickers. Are the tights Shady Lady too?’ he asked. ‘They're ultra-sheer, smoky-grey Shady Lady Pantyhose. The term pantyhose has become invasive because when younger women think of tights they think of opaques and hosiery of a heavier knit nylon or even cotton,’ I answered, although it seemed weird discussing hosiery marketing strategies with the man who was molesting me,” Julia coughed politely.

“But of course he had a fetish for sheer tights and stockings that I had pandered to at Chelmsford. ‘They’re not as delicate as the Wolfords you wore at Chelmsford but they’re still nice to touch,’ Tim’s fingers had strayed back to the top of my thighs and he was stroking me there and I found it maddeningly erotic. ‘Now kiss me,’ Tim leaned in and I let him kiss me. My skirt was still rucked up and he cupped my buttocks and pulled me into him. I kept my mouth closed but not for long. His tongue slipped into my mouth and he pressed his lips hard against mine. I could feel his hard muscled body through his dinner suit, I could feel his hard cock pressing into my belly, I could taste the whisky and cigarettes on his breath and I could smell his cologne. He was a virile handsome man who desired me and beyond all reason I returned the kiss and put my hands on his shoulders,” Julia shivered as she spoke.

“‘There’s a good girl,’ Tim broke the kiss and whispered in my ear. ‘You know what I like,’ he breathed as his hands went to my shoulders and gently pushed down. ‘I’m not blowing a client in my office!’ my voice caught in my throat as I stood up to him. ‘If you want to meet somewhere and talk about our past I’m willing to do so. I have so many questions,’ I tried to placate him,” Julia sighed.

“‘You misunderstand me Julia. You're talking to me as if you have a choice. Get down on your knees you bitch or I’ll have those pictures plastered all over social media,’ Tim’s demeanour had become threatening again. He pressed down harder on my shoulders until I had no choice but to kneel. I remember feeling the carpet under my knees. I remember that my skirt was still hitched up and my arse was exposed. I remember the smell of his expensive cologne as my face made the journey down his body. I remember looking at the contrast of my red nailpolished fingernails against his black dress trousers as I reached for his fly,” Julia was whispering; the memories clear as day.

Susan crossed her legs. Her knickers were soaked and her cunt was tingling listening to the erotic tale. She shouldn’t be feeling this way. Her client was describing what amounted to sexual assault but the account was so vivid that Susan could picture every scene in her head.

“The sound of his fly unzipping in the silent office was ominous. I understood that I had done this many times at the Chelmsford Academy but this was now. This was visceral and as I freed his hardening appendage from his trousers I gasped. The shaft was milky white, the flesh almost transparent and I could see the pulsing blue veins under the skin. I traced the thickest of them with my fingernail until I came to the glans which was pink and bulbous, a bead of pre-ejaculate had formed at the eye and I scooped it onto the pad of my index finger and rubbed it into his fraenulum and I heard him gasp. My intent was to fellate him to climax and send him on his way and then I could consider my options,” Julia explained.

“I decided that the best course of action was to give him exactly what he wanted so I cupped his scrotum and gently massaged it while the fingers of my other hand flittered up and down his shaft. I extended my tongue and lapped at his bloated glans. I licked the pink, spongy knob and tickled the underside with the tip of my tongue paying attention to the most sensitive part; the fraenulum. Tim put his hands on my head and pushed his groin into my face, impatient for me to take him fully into my mouth.”

“I took as much of steely shaft into my mouth as I could and began to suckle it. My lips clasped around the shaft, sliding up and down on it as my tongue lashed his glans. I was rewarded with a mouthful of salty-sweet precum which I savoured and swallowed. I was rock hard, tenting my knickers and tights but I was not really conscious of it. Everything that had happened at Chelmsford had conditioned me to respond this way and now that the memories had returned I was responding like Pavlov’s dog. Tim entwined his fingers in my hair and guided my face up and down his appendage while I sucked and slathered it whilst gently caressing his scrotum. His breathing was laboured and his cock was quivering and I sensed extremis approaching. I steeled myself for the salty richness of his sperm filling my mouth.”

“I was to be denied. I was naïve to even think I could get away with it. Tim pulled on my hair, forcing me to my feet. He pressed himself to me, his cock rubbing on my nylons as he kissed me passionately and I had no choice but to hold onto him for support as I tottered on my heels. He suddenly spun me around and bent me over the desk, using his superior strength to press my face into the teak desktop. He kicked my heels apart and I felt his cock rubbing in the crevice between my buttocks. He was panting heavily, relishing the feel of my nylon knickers and silky tights against his steely rod. ‘Please don’t,’ I made a pathetic plea to the man I knew had no pity,” Julia crossed her ankles on the chaise lounge as she recalled her defilement.

“I felt him tear a hole in the rear of my tights and ease aside the gusset of my knickers. Then I felt his glans nestle in my sphincter and I whimpered with shame and fear. He rubbed his cock in my pink, crinkled entrance and I was thankful for the copious flow of precum as he pressed forward and his glans pierced my tight sphincter. Part of my morning toilet was to douche and I had eaten little so at least I would be spared the indignity of fouling myself. This was a strange notion to have, sparing us both the humiliation of soiling his cock given the circumstances but I suppose I was clinging to what little dignity I had left.”

“Thank god Tim took his time. His glans stretched my sphincter and I whimpered at the pain but he allowed me to accommodate him before he pressed on. I almost wish he hadn't because the searing pain morphed into sparklets of pleasure as the tip of his penis began to slip in and out of my tight hole. Involuntarily my anus loosened to accommodate him. ‘You are a good girl,’ he chuckled as he gripped my hips and slowly filled my void with his manhood. It slid in slowly, its path greased by Tim’s pre-ejaculate but the pain returned. I gritted my teeth as his cock speared my rectum.”

“I was bent over the desk, my face directly above the last picture Tim had taken in his dorm room, my pretty face spattered with Sebastian Cole’s semen. When Tim was fully inside me with his pubis pressed into my buttocks he stopped briefly but not to spare me the pain but because he didn’t want to cum straight away. He stopped pressing my torso down onto the desk and his hands went to my hips and he held me still while he began to fuck me. His cock slid in and out of my anus, slowly but determinedly, as he eked out every scintilla of pleasure as my tight passage clung to his pulsing manhood. He withdrew it almost entirely and then slowly pressed forward, impaling me. I shuddered and gasped. I could not control my body’s response.”

“The feel of his bloated penis filling my tight channel, the head pressing on my prostate, the base of his thick shaft lighting up the sensory organs in my sphincter and anus, his pubis pressing into my soft, nylon-sheathed buttocks when he was fully inside, his hands gripping my hips, his moans and sighs as he took me, all combined to ignite my ardour. I was once again his slattern and I sobbed but I also sighed as Tim Valentine ravished me over the desk in my own office,” Julia was rubbing her legs together as she lay on the lounge, her nylons hissing in the quiet therapy room.

Susan’s clitoris was engorged and aching to be touched as she imagined this attractive, mature woman, bent over her desk with her pretty pink skirt rucked up around her waist, tottering on her heels with her long nylon-sheathed legs spread, her sheer tights shimmering in the dim lighting as the handsome man standing behind her dressed in an elegant dinner suit with his trousers around his ankles buggered her.

“Suddenly he stopped and to my shame I was disappointed. I was enjoying being fucked and my guilt was assuaged by the fact that I was being blackmailed. Memories of my time with Tim at Chelmsford College were coursing through my subconscious and I recalled that despite being his concubine I had fallen in love with him at the college and was sad when he left despite the way he treated me on our last night together.”

“He withdrew his penis and helped me to my feet. I wondered what was going on. I knew that he hadn't climaxed and wondered what fresh vulgarity awaited me. He turned me to face him and to my surprise he pulled down my skirt and then he gently and lovingly eased my fringe out my eyes with his fingertips and looked into them with what I can only describe as devotion and regret. To my surprise I saw tears in the corners of his eyes,” Julia choked on her words.

“You are so beautiful and I’m such a cad. When I saw you at the launch party I was surprised and delighted. I remembered our time together at Chelmsford and how much you were devoted to me despite the way I treated you. That last night when I invited Sebastian and Oliver to my room and took those pictures I told you that I done so to ensure that you didn’t tell anyone about us but the truth is I also did it because I wanted to see you defiled so that it would change how I felt about you. I never told you so but I had fallen in love with you but I knew that we could never be together,” Julia’s breathing was ragged as she recounted this part of her story.

“I was about to reply but Tim put his finger to my lips. ‘Of course I didn’t know that you had repressed those memories and I plotted and schemed to see you tonight and use the photographs to force you into submitting to my desires once again. But although I still desire you and want you so badly, I’m not going to be the arsehole I was at Chelmsford. You deserve so much better than that Julia. I’m sorry and I know that you can never forgive me so I promise that I you won’t have to see me again. I’ll sell Shady Lady to another conglomerate so we won’t meet professionally and you can keep those photographs and destroy them. I promise you that there are no copies’ Tim said regretfully.”

“Tim leaned down and softly kissed my cheek and turned away from me. It was awkward as he pulled up his trousers with his back to me. To my surprise I reached out and touched his shoulder. ‘Tom,’ I whispered. He turned to face me. ‘If you were a real gentleman you would make sure that a lady is satisfied before you leave her,’ I couldn’t believe I was saying those words. I leaned into him and kissed him softly at first and then more passionately. Then I unbuttoned his trousers and unzipped him and tugged them down. I reached for him and stroked his semi-erect penis. His hand slid under my skirt and he found me still fully aroused, my cock tenting my tights and knickers. He began to stroke my penis and it felt heavenly.”

“I broke the kiss and unbuttoned my blouse and freed my breasts from the cups of my brassiere and I saw Tim stare at them with delight and longing. I entwined my fingers in his hair and guided his mouth to my nipples. He lapped at them and they engorged. He suckled and nipped them and ripples of delight radiated from them and joined up with frissons of pleasure that were emanating from my cock as Tim stroked it through my kickers and tights. I was fondling his hard cock and I could feel the power and virility interred in that mighty appendage. ‘Finish what you started Tom. I want you,’ I could hardly believe I was saying the words,” Julia swallowed and was about to continue when Susan interrupted.

“Wait a minute! You encouraged him after he had confessed to you and was ready to leave you alone?” Susan seldom interrupted her patients when they were telling her about traumatic events in their lives but this was almost unbelievable.

“Don’t you realise? When my memories returned I not only recalled all of the horrid things that had happened to me but my love for Tim also returned,” Julia whispered.

“Tim reluctantly moved his face from my breasts and he smiled at me and he kissed me and I melted. I wrapped my arms around him as he lifted me onto the desk. It was me who hiked up my skirt. It was me who hooked my ankles around him and pulled him to me. It was me who guided his penis to the hole in my tights and nestled it in my sphincter. It was me who clung to him and impaled myself on his steely rod. It was me who said ‘Fuck me please Tom. Make love to me.’”

“Tim held me tight and kissed me, out tongues intertwined. He freed my cock from my knickers and tights and stroked it in time with the long, languid strokes as he drove his cock in and out of my willing hole. I was whimpering and moaning as my pleasure centres ignited, his cock filling my void, his fingers caressing my cock. We both climaxed quickly, I nipped at his earlobe as I pressed my buttocks as hard as I could into his pelvis was I felt his cock shudder and spew forth a torrent of scalding jism deep inside my anus. My own cock exploded at the same time, jets of musky milt erupting from it, spattering on my belly as Tim whipped his fingers up and down it. Our kisses were so passionate that out teeth chattered,” Sarah issued a sight of contentment.

Susan could see that Julia was tenting her skirt because she had become aroused at the memory. Susan’s pussy was alive and little tremors, like min-orgasms, erupted from her sodden snatch. Susan could not believe that she had become so aroused listening to Julia’s tale but she had.

“We made a little nest for ourselves on the couch in my office. I stripped down to my underwear but I left my heels on of course because I knew that Tim adored them. He stripped down to his briefs and wrapped himself in the throw blanket from the couch while he poured us drinks from my mini-fridge. I lay in his arms, snuggled up to him under the blanket as we drank and I even allowed him to smoke an illicit cigarette while I vaped. He confessed to me how much he desired me and how his feelings towards me had returned when he saw me at the launch party. He kept saying that he was sorry that he had ever hurt me. And of course we made love all night on that couch and we were both disappointed when the light of dawn began to creep through the blinds,” Julia sighed wistfully.

“The last thing we did before he left was to feed those Polaroids into the office shredder. I didn’t want him to leave and he didn’t want to go but the practicalities of our mundane lives intruded on our rekindled devotion to each other. After he left I took a whore’s bath in the ladies, fixed my makeup and changed into fresh underwear and into a suit that I kept in a locker in my office. When the office opened my secretary was not surprised to find that I was the first one there because I often was. She would however have been surprised to know that Tim’s semen kept dribbling into my knickers during our morning client meetings,” Julia gave a wry smile.

“I find your tale extraordinary. You fell for the man who had defiled you and made you his concubine in college. No wonder you needed to seek my help,” Susan could hardly contain her surprise.

“Oh there is a little more to tell before we finish but I see by the clock on the wall that my session has come a close,” Julia swung her legs off the chaise lounge and sat up straight.

To be continued

Things They Made Me Do - Chapter 6

Author:

Michele Nylons

Caution:

CAUTION: Sex / Sexual Scenes

Audience Rating:

EXPLICIT CONTENT

Publication:

Final Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Chapter Six – Very Unprofessional Behavior

Susan Bradshaw sat at her desk and studied the notes she had made during her counselling sessions with Julia Wallace. Julia was certainly an enigma. She had been sexually abused by her uncle and his friend when she was eighteen and then again in college by one of the prefects, Timothy Valentine, who used her as his personal sex slave or concubine as Julia put it. During the last session Julia had revealed that she had recently met Timothy Valentine, whom she had not seen since college, at a work gathering. He had gone to her office a few days later and blackmailed her into sex but then had second thoughts and had ceased his assault halfway through the attack because he felt guilt and remorse.

Then she described having consensual sex with Timothy and forming some sort of bond. This concerned Susan and she wondered if Julia was experiencing some sort of Stockholm Syndrome. This needed to be further explored before Julia’s therapy progressed any further.

What was also of concern to Susan was her own response to Julia’s therapy. Julia insisted on going into every detail of each of her encounters explicitly. It was like listening to a descriptive pornographic audio novel. Susan was a ‘lipstick lesbian’ and prior to meeting her wife, Bethany, Susan had been bisexual. Julia’s description of every nuance of her sexual encounters caused Susan to create a tableau in her mind with the consequence being that she became sexually aroused. Julia being a very attractive transwoman who exuded sexuality and sensuality didn’t help matters either. Susan had once joked with Bethany about how having sex with a transwoman would be the best of both worlds, a woman with a cock, and Bethany had spun up into a transphobic rage. Bethany was a militant lesbian, man-hater and not sympathetic to the plight of transwomen, whom she said were imposters.

Susan was wearing the same navy-blue pinstripe skirt-suit, cerise satin camisole blouse, shimmery tan thigh-high nylons and black high heels that she had worn last week at their previous counselling session and had been fastidious about her makeup. Wendy, Susan’s receptionist, had noticed that her boss seemed to pay particular attention to her appearance on the days that Julia Wallace attended therapy. Most days Susan dressed casually but she always wore a skirt or a dress, nylons and heels for Julia’s sessions. Maybe she felt a little intimidated by Julia’s fashionable appearance and her confidence? Not that Wendy cared, she was just a careful observer and was amused. Julia was sitting in reception wearing a short-skirted dark suit, white silk blouse and silky-sheer nylons. Wendy observed the red soles on Julia’s high heels and felt a pang of jealousy.

“Send in Miz Wallace please Wendy,” Susan’s voice came over the intercom and Julia looked up from the fashion magazine she was reading and Wendy nodded at her.

As usual, Susan greeted Julia at the door to her office and was engulfed in a miasma of Dior Poison when she greeted Julia and indicated that she should take her usual place on the chaise lounge, which Julia did, first taking off her jacket and slipping off her shoes. Julia had difficulty maintaining modesty as she reclined on the lounge because her short skirt kept riding up her legs. Susan thought that the skirt was ridiculously short for a woman Julia’s age but she appreciated the acres of thigh on display.

“I must apologise if I’m overdressed. I came here directly from a business meeting,” Julia said by way of explanation as she tugged at the hem of her skirt.

“Was Timothy Wallace at the business meeting?” Susan derided herself for being catty but she couldn’t help herself.

Julia blushed but she shot Susan a withering glance.

“As a matter of fact he was,” Julia replied indignantly.

‘Explains the ‘fanny skimmer’ skirt,’ Susan thought and immediately chided herself.

Her therapy room was no place for petty jealousy.

She sat down in the chair next to Julia and opened her notebook and waited expectantly for Julia to begin. Julia was one patient who never had to be coerced into speaking about the most intimate details of her life. However Julia remained silent and seemed lost in her thoughts so Susan coaxed her to speak.

“At the end of our last session you told me that you had spent the night in your office with Timothy Valentine having consensual sex and that he had helped you shred the incriminating photographs that he had kept to blackmail you. You also said that there is more to tell,” Susan reminded Julia of their last session.

“Yes that’s true. He told me that despite how he had treated me at college, he had developed feelings for me and that in offering me to Oliver Crotchet and Sebastian Cole he had hoped that seeing me degraded like that might assuage the affection he felt for me. I was vulnerable because my suppressed memories had only just returned and was unsure if he was telling the truth,” Julia admitted.

“So you regret your actions? You now realise that he was the abuser and you were the abused? You realise that your Uncle Charlie, his anonymous friend, Timothy Valentine, Oliver Crotchet and Sebastian Cole all took advantage of you and sexually exploited you?” Susan asked.

“Yes and no. It’s more complicated than that. It’s probably best if I continue where I left off,” Julia replied and Susan settled into her seat to listen.

“All of the next day I thought about what had happened to me when I was younger and how I had been exploited and betrayed by the men in my life. I put aside what happened to me at Chelmsford College whilst I thought about Uncle Charlie. Daddy never told me why Charlie suddenly became ostracised from the family. It wasn’t until I left college that I found out that Daddy and his powerful friends drove Uncle Charlie into bankruptcy,” Julia pondered.

“Despite the time difference I called Belinda who now lives in Brisbane Australia with her husband and two teenage boys. She told me that all she knew was that Uncle Charlie had committed some egregious sin which Mommy and Daddy could never forgive. She knew that I had been shipped off to The Chelmsford Academy because Daddy had caught me crossdressed wearing her school uniform and that daddy had quizzed her about being complicit in helping me crossdress. She cried when she told me that she had vehemently denied helping feminise me and knew nothing about my crossdressing. Belinda had no idea that Uncle Charlie had sexually assaulted me and I didn’t tell her. She had been generous in giving me half of daddy’s estate when he died because daddy had left me nothing,” Julia choked a little as she spoke about her sister.

“I know that there are trust issues that need to be resolved. My Uncle, who I loved and trusted implicitly had abused me, my mother and father were not prepared to listen to my side of the story and had packed me off to Chelmsford and they had disowned me when I came out as trans. I guess Belinda could have been more supportive too, after all it was she who first helped me find my feminine self. That said, I don’t blame her, she had her own daddy issues to deal with,” Julia sighed

Sandra wrote the words ‘daddy, daddy, daddy’ in her notebook and circled it and then wrote ‘still calls her father daddy’, then she continued to listen to Julia.

“So that’s one thing. Then there is what happened at the Chelmsford Academy. My friend and roommate Byron ‘piggy’ Rumsfeld, who had played ‘Betty’ in the school play alongside my ‘Penelope’ had let Timothy Valentine, Oliver Crotchet and Sebastian Cole into our dorm room and they were waiting for us after the play. Betty confessed that she had been a plaything for Oliver and Sebastian for some time and when she started to wear drag they desired her even more. They had blackmailed her and she had complied and offered me to the school bullies,” Julia said through gritted teeth.

“If I may interrupt. Do you still have a relationship with Byron? Do you intend to resolve your issues with him?” Susan asked.

“Her you mean. When Betty left college she went into theatre and became a well-known drag queen in Soho named Betty Bangs then later she came out as a transwoman. I don’t know where she is now, it’s not like every transwoman in Britain knows every other one,” Julia sniped cattily.

“Anyway I have forgiven her. I suspected that Byron was gay but I didn’t know that she was gender dysphoric. How could I? I didn’t know that I was either at the time. It doesn’t matter. Timothy Valentine would have got his hooks into me one way or the other,” Julia said convincingly.

“‘Got his hooks into you?’ that's quite the way to put it. You told me that you pandered to his sexual appetites only under suffrage initially but then you became infatuated with him. I’m going to quote you directly from our third session. You said: ‘I think he subconsciously loathed himself for having a deep affection for a transvestite just as I secretly loathed myself for falling in love with him.’” Susan read from her clinical notes.

“But don’t you see? He admitted to me the night that he came to my office that he does have a deep affection for me and that he did back then when were both at college,” Julia sounded smug.

“And do you still love him,” Susan asked and the silence in the air was palpable.

Julia waited an inordinate amount of time before she spoke.

“I think it’s best that you let me continue,” Julia said resolutely and picked up her story where she had left off.

“The next day I had to deal with my re-emerging memories whilst considering what had happened in my office the night before. As I said, Tim ’s semen kept dribbling into my knickers during our morning client meetings and I was tired from lack of sleep and confused because of what had happened to me in the past and I didn’t perform well in the meetings. I told my secretary to cancel my afternoon and I went home and slept,” Julia sucked nervously on a fingertip.

“Tom called me around 7PM and I was unsure if I should answer. I was no longer a teenager playing silly games with her boyfriend. Tim could be calling me about something business related so I answered the phone and as soon as I heard Tim ’s voice my heart melted. As I said, I’m not some teenager with a crush, I’m a mature grown woman but when he began to talk my mind flipped back to us lying together on the sofa in my office,” Julia paused and then continued.

“‘Let’s go to dinner,’ Tim said excitedly as soon as I answered. ‘What about Tiffany?’ I couldn’t help but throw the fact that he was married in his face. ‘Tiffany is having dinner with her yoga instructor, likely discussing how they are going to spend the money Tiffany will leech from me in the divorce,’ Tim replied unfazed. ‘But she clung to you like a limpet at the launch party,’ I countered. ‘Tiffany and I have an arrangement. She behaves like a model wife when we are together in public and I dote on her but in private we do our own thing while the decree nisi is in effect, the decree absolute will take effect in about a month. My company owns a couple of tabloid scandal sheets and I don’t want myself and Tiffany to feature in them,’ Tim said by way of explanation.”

“My stomach had growled at the mention of dinner, I hadn't eaten anything all day. ‘Ok, but just dinner. I’m still coming to grips with things,’ I relented. ‘I’ll have my driver pick you up in an hour,’ he said and hung up. I didn’t bother trying to ask him how he knew where I lived. He seemed to know everything about me. He certainly had the resources to find out anything he wanted to know about anyone,” Julia nodded her head as if convincing herself.

“I had decided that I wanted to look good but not seductive. I used the toilet, douched and inserted two personal lubricant capsules in my anus just in case I changed my mind, then I showered and fixed my hair and makeup. I had free access to the full catalogue of the Shady Lady clothing and accessory line but I had limited myself to a couple of suits that I wore when I represented the company. I’m no snob but Shady Lady is not my fashion label of choice,” Julia sniffed and Susan couldn’t help a wry smile when Julia said she wasn’t a snob.

“However I had seen a Shady Lady model wearing a rather fashionable jumpsuit. It was made of a nylon spandex blend and was body-shaping. We advertise it as ‘tummy-cinching and butt-lifting’ to appeal to women of a certain age who needed help with their figure. I’d taken one in black and decided that with a nice jacket and the right shoes it could pass as casual elegance and being basically a pair of flared leggings with the halter top attached it would be difficult for anyone to access parts of me that I didn’t want fondled. That is to say that I didn’t want Tim slipping his hand under my skirt or fondling me during dinner.”

“I put on sheer-to-the-waist tights but didn’t bother with knickers or a bra because the jumpsuit was designed to be worn without underwear and the bodice had inbuilt bust support. The only reason I wore tights was to keep my tuck in place. With the red blazer I chose to complement the black figure-hugging black fabric and the chunky silver jewellery I chose to accessorise my ensemble, I looked quite stylish in a ‘fast fashion’ kind of way as I climbed into the limousine that Tim had sent for me,” Julia said a little haughtily.

“Tom was already seated at the restaurant and he stood up politely as the maître d'hôtel escorted me to his table. He was wearing a dinner suit of course and once again I was struck by how roguishly handsome he looked. I saw his eyes linger on every curve of my body and knew that the body-hugging one-piece had been a successful choice. ‘My god I keep forgetting how beautiful you are,’ he smiled at me like a boy who had just received the perfect gift for Christmas. ‘Oh come on Tim , I’m mutton dressed as lamb,’ I replied depreciatively. ‘Shut up. Look at around, every man in the restaurant is looking at you and their wives are jealous,’ Tim was flattering me but I wondered if the bodysuit was a little too revealing. Tim held my chair and I sat down at the cosy little table. He kissed my cheek and the corner of my mouth before he took a seat across from me.”

“‘I can’t stop thinking about last night,’ Tim smiled at me across the table and I blushed. ‘I can’t stop thinking about my returned memories,’ I countered. ‘It seems that when I was at my most vulnerable, men, and you in particular, exploited me,’ I picked up the menu so that I didn’t have to look at Tim’s reaction. ‘Yes, and I told you last night at least a hundred times how sorry I am for doing so. I never forgot you Julia. I was infatuated with you at Chelmsford but back in those days I was a different man. I hated myself for loving you. You know yourself that back then we could never have had a proper relationship, we would both would have been ruined,’ Tim reached across the table to take my hand but I snatched it away,” Julia sighed.

“‘And I lived my whole adult life without knowing what had really happened between us, oblivious to how I had been treated by my uncle and the man I fagged for in college,’ I replied and held up my hand when Tim tried to continue. ‘Now that my memories have returned I now know that you were the first and only man I ever loved despite the way you treated me. You know I never married. I have never had a long-term relationship and the more I think about it, I wonder if it was the suppressed memories that kept me from being able to feel love,’ I felt I had bared my soul to him when I said that. I sat in silence and let Tim order dinner and wine,” Susan noticed that Julia was wringing her hands as she spoke about the dinner.

“How long ago was this?” Susan asked.

“About two months ago,” Julia replied.

Julia took a drink of water and continued.

“‘You realise that we both used the L word,’ Tim whispered. I blushed. ‘I’ve been married twice and am about to be divorced a second time. I never settled or had children and both my marriages were shams, a convenient arrangement for both parties. I played the field throughout both my marriages and so did my wives. I even sought the services of transgender prostitutes and whenever I was with them I thought of you. They did teach me a few things though,’ Tim smiled cheekily at me and I recalled the things he had done to me last night that he would never had done at Chelmsford.”

“I never thought that I would see you again and then there you were at that party and I couldn’t help myself. I paid someone a lot of money to find out everything about you. I dug out those old photographs fully intending to blackmail you. Of course I didn’t know that you had forgotten about our tryst at college. You were so cold to me at the party. I thought you hated me. And then I came to your office and did what I did but I couldn’t go through with it,’ Tim said. ‘Yeah, but you didn’t stop until you had your cock in my arse,’ I snapped back and immediately regretted it.”

“‘But what about after? Our night together on the couch in your office? There was nothing forced about that,’ Tim reached across the table and this time I let him take my hand. ‘No there wasn’t. I haven’t felt like that for as long as I can remember,’ I admitted. ‘So what are your intentions now? You said last night that were going to sell Shady Lady to another conglomerate but wouldn’t it be easier if I just ripped up the advertising contract?’ I changed the subject to business.”

“‘I could care less about Shady Lady. What I care about is you. I meant it when I said I can’t stop thinking about you. I know that you feel something for me, what we had last night was not just sex. I didn’t want to leave your office the next day. I wanted us to skip out on everything and spend the week together getting to know each other again but I want you to see that I have changed and you are the one who changed me,’ Tim sounded like he was pleading.”

“‘Are you really hungry?’ I asked and Tim looked perplexed. ‘Not really, but when you said you would come to dinner I jumped at the chance to see you,’ Tim admitted. ‘I’m not hungry now either. Call your driver. My flat is in Kensington, not far from here, but you know that. Let’s go there and continue this conversation in private,’ I could hardly believe I was saying those words but Tim didn’t hesitate. He made a call on his mobile and then summoned the maître d'hôtel and told him that something had come up that required his immediate attention and he paid the equivalent of a full dinner for two even though we hadn't touched a thing. He snatched up the bottle of wine and whisked me outside into his car.”

“I’d like to tell you that I behaved like a lady and made Tim suffer in silence but as soon as we climbed into the back seat of his car we began to kiss. The driver raised the partition for privacy which was just as well. Our kisses were fervid. I drove my tongue into Tim ’s mouth and he held me tight. His hands were everywhere, fondling my breasts, stroking my legs, feeling between my legs and I rubbed his thick cock through his trousers. My nipples engorged as Tim tweaked them through the skin-tight fabric of my jumpsuit and my cock was uncomfortably hard between my legs. I wished I had worn a dress or a skirt and blouse so that Tim could touch my flesh but I didn’t have to wait long. We were outside my flat fifteen minutes later.”

“We behaved like teenagers, kissing in the street, Tim squeezing my bottom through my jumpsuit, me squeezing his cock through his trousers. I managed to free myself long enough to open the door to my flat and as soon as we were inside we took up where we had left off. The wine got ditched on the hallstand and I ripped off my blazer and Tim took off his jacket and then he pinned me against the wall and kissed me, pressing his body into me. I could feel his hard cock against my tight belly, his tongue was fluttering in my mouth, my cock was uncomfortably thickening between my legs,” Julia’s breathing became laboured as she told her story.

Susan felt the familiar tingle between her legs. Julia’s confessions were so explicit and detailed that they triggered her passions. She crossed her legs as she felt her sex becoming damp. Susan encouraged Julia to continue.

“‘Where’s the bedroom?’ Tim gasped into my mouth. ‘Fuck the bedroom!’ I snaked my hand between our bodies and freed his appendage. I love the feel of Tim ’s cock. It’s so sleek. I love the girth of it, I love the length of it, I love the ropy veins running under the silky translucent flesh, I love his spongy plush glans that seem to leak a continual flow of precum whenever I touch it,” Julia had her eyes closed as she relived the encounter.

Susan noticed that Julia was talking in the present tense and she wondered if Julia was still in a relationship with Tim .

“I guided his cock between my legs and clamped them shut and Tim dry humped me against the wall. He kissed me and pawed my breasts while his cock pressed against mine. The feel of his steely rod pressing the fabric of my nylon-spandex jumpsuit and silky sheer tights against my cock was wonderfully decadent. I just wished I could free my cock from where it was trapped along my perineum. Tim must have read my thoughts because he backed off me a little and unzipped the front of my garment, slipped his hand inside and freed my cock from between my legs and grasped it through my pantyhose. He stroked it, his rhythm matching the long languorous caress of my fingers as I stroked him to full tumescence.”

“‘The bedroom?’ he gasped. ‘I already told you, fuck the bedroom. I can’t wait,’ I said feeling like such a slattern for saying so but I was so excited that I couldn’t wait to feel him inside me. ‘Tear it open and fuck me Tim . Fuck me right here in the foyer,’ I slammed my lips onto his, my tongue spearing his mouth, my arms locked around his neck, his cock pressed against mine. Tim needed no further encouragement and he tore open the seam of my jumpsuit almost rending it in two. He pressed me against the wall and lifted me up, cupping my buttocks to support my weight. I wrapped my legs around him and clung to him. My breasts were pressed against his shirt, my nipples hard, incensed by the feel of his cotton shirt against the tender teats.”

“Tom tore a hole in my tights and prodded at my anus until his thick, steely rod pierced my sphincter and he impaled me. I clung to him, feeling his bloated penis filling my void, stretching my sphincter, pressing on my prostate. I kissed him with more fervour if that were possible. I locked my ankles behind him as he supported my weight, squeezing my buttocks, and then he began to thrust. Once, twice, three times, and then he slammed his cock all the way inside me and ejaculated. His belly was pressing on my slinky tights, sliding them across my sensitive cock as he ravished me. The tactile sense of his cock throbbing and quivering inside my tight anus as it spewed his seed deep inside me triggered my orgasm and I came right along with him.”

Susan couldn’t help herself. She furtively slid a hand under her notebook and inside her skirt and began to rub her inflamed pussy.

“Tom wasn’t done and neither was I. He lowered me to the floor with his cock still inside me then he whipped it out and pushed me down on the carpet. I opened my legs for him and he fell on me, kissing and slavering at my teats, reigniting my lust. I guided his cock back to my spunk-clotted opening and slid it back inside me and Tim began to fuck me again. I held him tight, locking my legs around him, arching my back to meet his thrusts as his cock jackhammered in and out of my bruised hole.”

“I twisted my fingers in his hair and ripped his face from my breasts and forced him to kiss me. Our lips were locked together, our tongues intertwined, his cock filling my aching void whilst mine was pressed against his belly, my tights were sodden with juices, my cock raw and aching. Tim roared as he came inside me a second time and I came with him. We clung to each other as we rode the express elevator of desire to the summit, Tim ’s cock sliding in out my slick hole, the glans banging on my prostate, the base of it stretching my sphincter and wringing out freshets of delight as he cupped my buttocks so he could get a good purchase as he slammed his cock in and out of my tight rectum. Finally he fell on top of me exhausted and I wrapped my arms and legs around him and cuddled him.”

Julia’s eyes were still closed which was just as well because Susan was biting her bottom lip as she suppressed a squeal while her fingertips rubbed frantically at the engorged nubbin of her clitoris through her gauzy nylon panties, an orgasm wracking her body. She imagined that it was she being defiled on that hallway carpet.

“Tom regained control of his breathing and he looked me lovingly in the eyes and whispered… ‘I love you Julia,’ and I kissed him softly and whispered that I loved him too. Our clothes were ripped and semen stained and we undressed right there in the hallway foyer. I led him upstairs and we showered together and I fixed my makeup and put on a garter belt and fully fashioned stockings and a pair of translucent pink nylon panties and shiny black high heels while Tim went downstairs get the wine and some glasses. When he came back and saw how I was dressed he pounced on me and we started all over again. ‘Thank god for those little blue pills,’ Tim chuckled as his cock slid into my aching asshole once more,” Julia had a wry smile on her face.

Julia had seen Susan remove her hand from under her notebook and she could tell by the flushed look on Susan’s face and her ragged breathing that Susan had been masturbating while she told Susan about her tryst.

“Am I to assume that you are still seeing Tim ?” Susan cleared her throat and tried to sound professional.

“Oh no... I’m not just seeing him. We are living together. We spend every minute of our lives together except when we are at work. I love him and he loves me. We go everywhere together. Tim loves to show me off and fuck anyone who disapproves; that’s his words not mine. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. It was Tim who insisted that I seek psychiatric help to deal with demons from my past. Just talking to you has been cathartic,” Julia sounded a little smug.

“We still have fifteen minutes if you would like to explore some therapies you can use to deal with your past trauma,” Susan said.

“Fuck that. Why waste our time. I know what I’d rather do,” Julia alighted from the lounge and leaned over Susan.

Julia pressed her lips against Susan’s and slipped her tongue into Susan’s mouth.

“We shouldn’t!” Susan gasped but unlike last time she didn’t push Julia away.

She let Julia lead her to the lounge and gasped when Julia forced her legs open and buried her face in Susan’s groin, lapping at her labia through her translucent panties. She slipped the gusset aside and suckled Susan’s clitoris. Susan squealed and pressed Julia’s face into her crotch as waves of pleasure radiated from her quim. Susan was close to extremis when Julia lifted her face out of Susan’s crotch and slammed her mouth down on Susan’s and drove her tongue into the sweet maw.

Julia climbed onto the lounge and lifted Susan’s skirt, her own skirt was hiked up and her throbbing appendage poked out from her knickers and tights. Julia eased aside the gusset of Susan’s knickers and slid her cock into Susan’s buttery quim.

The women rubbed their nylon-sheathed legs together as they fucked, Julia’s cock driving deep into Susan’s moist channel. The slocking sounds as they fucked reverberated around the room. Susan clung to Julia, kissing her, holding her tight as a warm glow deep inside her quim suddenly flared and erupted into a massive orgasm. They kissed frantically as Julia expressed her scalding issue deep inside Susan’s cunt, her pulsating vagina milking the last of Julia’s seed from her throbbing organ. Their frenetic kisses gradually became tender and loving. They lay like for a little while and then Julia opened Susan’s legs and dismounted.

“Well that was very unprofessional,” Susan was breathing heavy as she adjusted her underwear and smoothed out her skirt.

Julia had tucked her penis way and was pulling down the hem of her skirt when she replied.

“Bullshit, you loved it. You’ve been aching for it. Tim and I are monogamous… well sort of. I promised him that I wouldn’t see any other men. But I said nothing about seeing other women,” Julia slipped on her heels and her jacket and snatched up her purse.

“Same time next week?” Julia smiled and winked at Susan and slipped out the door.

The End

Author’s Note: Please leave a comment and tell me what you think about my tawdry little tale. Feedback is always appreciated and inspires me to keep writing more stories. xxx Michele Nylons, October 2024.