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To the Manor Born By Maureen Davis Day One - Arrival I pulled into the driveway, silently cursing the poor road signs. It's not bad enough that the British drove on the wrong side of the road, but you had to be a lifelong resident, with family roots that stretched back into the Dark Ages in order to find your way around. I had arrived at Gatwick Airport at 7:30am this morning, bleary eyed with the combination of lack of sleep and nausea that can only be brought on by a trans-Atlantic flight. I managed to grab my luggage with little difficulty and even was able to find the rental car agency without a problem and negotiate the long term rental of a small car. That's when the trouble started. The company that I had worked for 15 years had given me the opportunity of a lifetime: to manage our small manufacturing facility in Kent, England. My wife and I, married for 12 years, were Anglophiles who loved all things British, but events had always conspired to prevent us from taking our dream vacation there. My wife, Julie, had literally screamed when I called home to let her know the good news. From that point on, Julie took charge of the situation, investigating the best places to live, concentrating on the places that we had always longed to visit. She used the opportunity of a relocation house- hunting trip to fly to England and search for an appropriate house, while I closed out my current job. I was flabbergasted by the fact that within a week, she had found a place for us to live. And not just any place - somehow, someway she had been lucky enough to lease a guest cottage on a formal estate in Kent - and at a fairly bargain rate. It seemed a little odd, but at the time I just put it down to all of the research Julie had done and luck. Since I was buried under the mountain of work required to transition into the new job, I didn't really have time to help Julie with the details of our move. But, after 12 years of marriage I trusted her good sense and her great taste. So, armed with an address, a map and my few pieces of luggage, I set out to find our new home. I would be on my own for about 30 days, since Julie had to stay in the U.S. to finalize the sale of our home there and arrange for shipment of our belongings to England. I had a few days to get set up in our new house and get acclimated to the area before starting my new job, but first I had to find the house. The main highway was not too difficult, but once I got onto the smaller A and B roads, it got much scarier. Roundabouts, trying to remember which side of the road to be on when you made a turn, very narrow lanes - all made for a white knuckle ride. At long last, after what seemed like hours, I saw a sign for Hartley Manor - my destination. Following the signs, I found myself on a small lane with large hedges growing up (and into) the road on each side. Another sign led me to turn off the lane onto a tree-lined gravel drive, and got quite a shock when the drive opened up onto a huge grass lawn that swept up to a manor house that looked like something straight out of a Merchant & Ivory film. Stunned, all I could think was, "Damn, Julie - you did great!" I drove on up the drive, noting the manicured garden to the left and a small drive leading off to right. I followed this track about a hundred yards to a Tudor-style guesthouse. I parked the car and walked up to the front door, where I saw an envelope with my name on it. Reaching in I pulled out a key and a note, written on stationery in a flowing (and very feminine) script: Welcome to Hartley Manor Michael Jamison! It'll be a pleasure to have you and your wife as residents here. I was enchanted by my discussions with your wife Julie. I hope you enjoy our guest home - it's wonderful to have it occupied once more by such lovely people. Please make yourself comfortable, and if you need assistance moving in, just stop up at the house. Looking forward to meeting you, Lady Jane Hartley Reading the note, I immediately envisioned a very proper, gray-haired British "mum", just like you see in the British television shows. In any case, she sounded very nice, and the opportunity to live in the guesthouse on an English manor estate was just too good to pass up, so I took the key and went on in. The house was furnished in very nice antique furniture - just like many of the pieces that Julie and I had drooled over in the States. I couldn't believe our luck - but I wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I dragged my few pieces of luggage into the house and began to set up in my new home. It did not take long. I had brought enough business clothes to last me two weeks (I planned on using the dry cleaners after that) - a couple of suits, sport coats, dress shirts, etc., I then unpacked my other two suitcases; the cases that held my "special" clothes. You see, I am a crossdresser. I first started in my youth - trying on my mother's pantyhose that were hanging in the bathroom. I didn't understand why I did it, I just knew that there was a compulsion to do it. It was such a pleasurable experience that it quickly became an addiction after that, and I began raiding my older sister's closet. I progressed to wearing her lingerie, party dresses and high heels - eventually trying her makeup as well. In high school I started to acquire some of my own clothes, and often wore panties under my normal clothes. It became more difficult to dress up in the college dorm, and it was during my sophomore year that I met Julie. She and I clicked immediately and became inseparable companions. During our junior year, we got an off-campus apartment together. Once again I was surrounded by sexy, feminine women's clothes, and the temptation became unbearable. Up until that point, Julie knew nothing of my crossdressing desires, but she had showed a somewhat kinky streak in bed. Her willingness to experiment sexually and her acceptance of every other part of me, convinced me to tell her one night. Surprisingly, she responded very well. She accepted this side of me, and encouraged me to develop my feminine side. She helped me to purchase clothes that fit me well, taught me to apply make-up to create a more natural appearance, and taught me feminine deportment. She even helped me select a name for my alter-ego - Michelle. My only disappointment was that she was not sexually attracted to me as Michelle, and I longed to allow Michelle to spread her wings. Because of my position in my company, it was not safe for me to venture out as Michelle, lest I be recognized and my career ruined. So, I spent many comfortable nights dressed as Michelle in my home, but there was a part of me that was still unfulfilled. As I carefully put away my stockings, panties, and bras in the dresser, I recalled a comment that Julie made to me before I left the U.S.: "You should love living in Britian, Michael. It's a whole country full of people like you. In fact it's famous for your two favorite things: men wearing women's clothes and buggery," Julie had said this jokingly, pinching my bottom for effect afterwards, but I wondered now whether there would be more opportunity for Michelle to develop and flourish while in England. I had just finished hanging up my dresses in the closet, when I heard a knock on the door. I quickly closed the closet door, scanned the room to make sure there were no incriminating items visible, and then walked to the door. Recalling the note, I opened the door, expecting to see a matronly woman. I was not expecting to see the beautiful woman in front of me. "Hello. Welcome to Hartley Manor. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jane Hartley. You, on the other hand, must be Michael. It's a pleasure to meet you." I stood there mute, stunned by what I saw. Instead of a 50 year old matron, Jane Hartley was an incredibly beautiful woman in her mid-twenties. Instead of a conservative suit, she was wearing a white blouse over a black miniskirt that highlighted her long shapely legs, encased in very sheer nude hose, and perched atop black high-heeled sandals. Being a crossdresser, I tend to have a fetish for heels and hose, but I realized that a very awkward pause had developed as I stared at her legs. Quickly I stammered a reply, raising my gaze back up to her face, "H... h... hello, Mrs. Hartley. It's nice to meet you." She smiled, "That's wonderful! I do so love an American accent. Especially from such a tall, good looking American man. Please call me Jane." Again I was stunned. Was this beautiful woman flirting with me? I looked into her eyes - beautiful green eyes - framed by a stunning brunette mane, and she winked at me. She was definitely being very friendly. "Aren't you going to invite me in? I can show you all of the features of the guest house, if you'd like," she said. "Of course... Absolutely... I'm sorry ... I mean, come in please," I said, stepping rather clumsily aside to let her in. She came in, brushing much closer to me than was necessary, given the width of the door. The intoxicating scent of her perfume lingered as she passed by. She walked past me into the sitting room, her heels clicking on the old wood floor. "I love this place, you know. It's a shame I do not get to come here more often. I see you've gotten your belongings moved in." She walked around the room, opening the closet where my business suits were hanging. "Very nice. I bet you clean up very well. Hmm. I wonder if all of your clothes are as nice." She started to open the closet where I had hung up my dresses, so I nearly ran across the room and took her hand and kissed it in an attempt to distract her. "Jane," I said, "I do want to thank you for allowing my wife and I to live here. It's a wonderful house, and I 'm looking forward to getting to know you and your husband better. But, it's been a long and tiring day, and, right now, I'm just looking forward to getting a good night's sleep." "Very well. I can tell when I'm sticking my nose in too far," she said coyly. "But I'd like to help you get acclimated to the area. I'm sure you can't know many people here yet, and I can be a great help to you. I know, why don't we discuss things over dinner tomorrow? You can meet my husband, as well. Noone knows the area better than he does. Shall we say 7 o'clock?" "That's fine. I'd love to meet your husband. I'll see you then." At this point I'd have agreed to anything to distract her and get her out of the house. She's gorgeous and sexy as hell, but, man was she aggressive. "Good night then. If you need anything before morning, don't hesitate to stop up at the main house." With that, she turned on one stiletto heel and sashayed out the door and up the walk. I stood stunned, feeling like I'd just survived a tornado. I was slightly frightened, very turned on, and rather confused. I put it up to a long strange day in a new country, and got ready for bed. Day 2 - Dinner at Hartley Manor I spent the next day getting acclimated to my new environment. I drove into the village that I had passed through on my way to Hartley Manor last night, found a small store and purchased enough groceries to last a week. After lunch in the local pub ("toad in the hole" - I had to find out what it was), I contemplated driving out to the factory that I will be overseeing just to gauge the distance. However, I figured that Monday was soon enough for work, and that I should concentrate on getting myself setup properly in my new home. So I spent the afternoon wandering around the village looking for some of the "necessities" that I would soon require - microwave oven, satellite television, high speed internet connectivity, etc., Unfortunately, it was such a small village that finding these high tech items was impossible. I would probably have to go into London to get what I needed. I did pass by, improbably, a very interesting lingerie shop. I walked by, trying not to show too much interest, looking with longing at the black seamed silk stockings and the lovely corset shown in the window display. Looking at them made me very aware of the black silk panties, garter belt and black sheer stockings I was currently wearing underneath my khaki trousers. With a sigh, I walked back toward Hartley Manor noting that the time was getting late. In fact, I would make it back just at 7pm. "Damn," I thought to myself, "That won't give me enough time to change prior to dinner. Oh well, it's a chance I'll have to take." A half hour later, I found myself walking up the steps to the manor house. Just as I was about to bang the gargoyle- head knocker to announce my presence, the door opened and, framed in the doorway, stood Mrs. Hartley - dressed to the nines. She was wearing a black mini-dress, whose top clung to her ample breasts (showing significant cleavage) and whose skirt flared out, supported by what appeared to be rows of petticoats. The hemline hit about mid-thigh, framing her legs encased in sheer black nylons (not dissimilar from the ones that I myself had on at that point). Posing in the doorway and doing a twirl, Mrs. Hartley said, "Well? Do you like what you see?" Not knowing where Mr. Hartley was at that moment, I tried to respond as diplomatically as possible, "You look great, Mrs. Hartley. I very much appreciate you inviting me to dinner." "It's Jane, remember. Don't make me remind you again," she said teasingly. "Come in. Come in. Let's take a look at you." She looked me up and down, appraising my appearance. "Not bad, not bad. Still, I bet you can clean up better still. A tad casual, aren't we? It's okay for tonight, but remember for the future that at Hartley Manor, we dress for dinner." She escorted me through a formal sitting area, down a long hallway lined with portraits, and into a formal dining room. However, what struck me was not the opulence of the room, but the fact that there were only two place settings at the long table and the room was lit only by the glow of three candles. "Won't Mr. Hartley be joining us this evening?" I asked with a note of hysteria in my voice. "No. He was detained by business in London, so I'm afraid you'll have to make do with my company this evening. I may not be able to offer you all that my husband can, but I believe you'll find me to be very pleasurable company. Don't worry, you'll get the chance to be with my husband soon enough," she said with a smirk. "Odd phrasing," I thought, but I was getting used to her being consistently surprised by the things she said and did. "Please sit down, and I'll bring our dinner out," she said. Obediently I sat at one of the two place settings. Jane poured me a glass of wine before gliding out to the kitchen. A sip confirmed that the wine was excellent. I looked at the bottle and saw that it was an early 1900's French vintage. I couldn't even imagine what such a bottle would go for in the States. The wine was good enough that I started to relax for the first time since entering the house. Jane came back into room carrying two steaming plates. Filet mignon, garlic roasted potatoes, and steamed vegetables - the dinner proved to be the perfect accompaniment to the wine. After complimenting Jane on the excellent meal, I found that I was actually able to hold a normal conversation with her. As the meal drew to a close, I thought to myself, "Well that wasn't so bad. Jane is actually a very lovely woman when she's not being so aggressive." Sipping my wine, I relaxed back into my chair and stretched my legs under the table. Just then I felt Jane's stocking- clad foot slide over my shoe, up under my pants and caress my leg. Not thinking, lost in the pleasure of her nylon covered foot rubbing against my stocking clad leg, I saw a hint of recognition in Jane's eyes and a faint smirk cross her face. "Oh my God, she knows!!" I thought wildly and sat bolt upright, unfortunately dropping my glass of wine into my lap, spilling red wine all over my crotch. "Oh dear," Jane cried, "We have made a mess, haven't we." I stood up and began dabbing at my lap with my napkin. Jane grabbed her napkin, dipped it in water and also began pressing at my crotch. The combination of the wine I had drunk, the sight of a very sexy women on her knees in front of me, rubbing my crotch had the obvious result. I began to harden, and Jane, sensing this, rubbed all the more. Again, lost in the pleasure, I let this go on for far too long, and the outline of my cock was clearly evident against my pants. "Well, well, I guess you are enjoying my company after all. Those pants are going to stain. Here, let's get them off of you so that I can clean them properly." With that she started to undo my belt buckle, and she was just undoing the snap on my pants, when panic hit me again, and I reached down and stopped her. "What's wrong?" she said, "There's nothing in there that I haven't seen before." and she wrestled my zipper down, exposing - my engorged cock straining against my black silk panties. I blushed furiously, awaiting the ridicule that I knew would come, but Jane just said, "Oh, very pretty. Very pretty indeed." She slid my pants down the rest of the way, exposing the garter belt and seamed stockings. As she removed my shoes and socks, she said, "My dear, what lovely legs you have. And such good taste. I believe I sell those very stockings in my lingerie shop down in the village." I was amazed. She had reacted at all like I thought, and she was still rubbing my erection through my panties. Maybe, I thought, this is an opportunity for Michelle to spread her wings. "So, my lovely, what do you call yourself?" Jane asked breathily. "Michelle," I replied. "Well, Michelle, I think us girls are going to have some fun," Jane said, and began to kiss my erection through my panties. Within a minute she had pulled down my panties and engulfed my cock in her beautiful warm, wet mouth. She licked the head, swirling her tongue expertly around the sensitive underside and then began to bob up and down on the shaft. She began to run her hands up and down my stocking clad legs, sending chills up my spine. The tension I had felt through the day began to fade into the pleasure from Jane's expert ministrations. Within minutes, I felt the familiar pressure build in my testicles and I exploded into her mouth. Jane swallowed the entire load and licked my cock clean, smiling up at me. "Wow!" I said, "You are wonderful." "Why thank you my dear," Jane replied. I bent down to kiss her, but she backed away, saying, "Let's get your pants cleaned up dear. There will be plenty of time tomorrow for us to play properly." I was confused by her rapid change in temperament, but I meekly followed her to the bathroom, where she washed out my pants. She handed me a robe, and led me upstairs to a bedroom where she bid me goodnight. "But I should go back to the guest house," I protested. "Be a good girl, Michelle," Jane said, "and we'll have a lot of fun tomorrow. You'll find everything you need here in the room. Goodnight and sleep well." Confused, I sat on the bed, my robe falling open to expose my stocking clad legs. I felt, in turn, aroused, guilty, and curious - and in the end, curiosity won out. I stretched my leg out, enjoying the sheen created on the shapely limb, thinking to myself. "Well, Michelle, this is an opportunity for you to experience some fun, so let's just lie back and enjoy it." I got up and inspected the room. It was decorated in a very feminine fashion, with a frilly four-poster bed, a bedside table stacked with fashion magazines, and a make-up table, which, upon inspection, contained a wide array of some very high quality cosmetics. The dresser contained a drawer full of stockings and tights, some wonderful French bra and panty sets, some beautiful slips and nightgowns. I selected a slate gray satin peignoir set and put it on. The closet turned out to be brimming with dresses, blouses and skirt sets, with a rack full of high heels. Glancing at the tags, I was surprised to note that they were all in my size. I wondered whose room this normally was, since these were beautiful clothes, but in a larger size than what Jane appeared to wear. It was a puzzle that would have to wait till the morning, as I felt sleep begin to over whelm me. I crawled into bed, getting another surprise at the pink satin sheets. I luxuriated in the sensations overwhelming me, but quickly fell asleep. Day 3 - Michelle Comes Out to Play I woke up a bit disoriented. It took me several seconds to figure out where I was. I did not normally sleep in a nightgown, so the unfamiliar feeling of the peignoir and the satin sheets caught me off guard. Sitting up, I recalled the events of the previous evening, still confused about Jane's sudden change in attitude. At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and Jane stuck her head into the room, "Wake up sleepyhead. We've got quite a day in front of us so it's time to get out of bed." "Good morning, Jane," I said uncertainly - unsure of the reception that I would get. "Good morning, Michelle. You look rested and recovered. It's time for Michelle to come out to play today, so let's get started. Why don't you jump in the bath and make sure you shave - very close. I don't want to see a single hair below the top of your head when you return." I went into bathroom, ran the tub full of hot water (with a liberal dose of perfumed bubble bath), doffed the peignoir and sunk into the tub. I loved the process of shaving my legs. I loved to luxuriate while I drew the razor over my shapely legs, creating that incredibly smooth surface that I craved. This time, I didn't stop at the legs. I shaved my chest and arms and then shaved my face very close. Hopping out of the tub I toweled myself dry and then, grabbing a jar of scented moisturizer, I liberally rubbed the lotion onto my body. I grabbed a robe and went back into the bedroom. There Jane had laid out the clothes that she wanted me to wear on the bed, "We'll start out with something a little casual, but sexy. Later on we'll change for a more formal dinner." On the bed was a white bra and panty set, nude thigh high stockings, a yellow satin blouse and a black leather miniskirt. Jane handed me the panty and I pulled it up my smooth legs, enjoying the feel of the satin against my skin. From a tube on the bed, she applied a sticky substance to my chest and then pulled two breast forms out of a box and applied them to my chest. "These are the best forms I sell in my shop. You can wear these for many days without having to remove them. I chose a 38D for you to suit your frame." The weight of the forms was an interesting feeling. I had used breast forms before but never the glue on type and never forms this large. I had to admit, they felt good. Jane then helped me to put the matching bra on. With the weight of the breastforms, I really appreciated the support that the bra provided. The bra helped to create a massive amount of cleavage. I was turned on by the realization that the cleavage was mine. I then sat down and pulled the stockings up my leg. I luxuriated in the feel of the stockings against my freshly shaven skin. I badly wanted to look at myself in the mirror, but Jane would not hear of it, "Not until the transformation is complete." I donned the blouse and skirt, and Jane knelt in front of me to place a pair of black mules with three inch heels onto my feet. She then had me sit at the make-up table where she applied foundation and powder. She put a smoky gray eye shadow on my lids with a liberal dose of mascara. She outlined my lips before applying a shiny deep red lipstick - "Kissproof so that you don't muss it while we play." She applied nail extensions to my fingernails before applying two coats of a matching color. She then put handed me an anklet to put on, and a pair of 2 inch hoop earrings - "It's a good thing you already have pierced ears." Finally, she pulled a beautiful long red wig out of the closet and placed it on my head. At last she allowed me to look in the mirror. I was stunned. Looking back at me was a girl just as gorgeous as Jane. None of my previous crossdressing efforts had ever produced as convincing a result. I was beautiful, a walking vision. Jane snuck up behind me and ran her hands along my chest and side, "Well Michelle, what do you think?" "I love it," I blurted, "Thank you, thank you." "Don't worry," she said, "You'll have plenty of opportunity to thank me later in some very pleasurable ways. Let me go get dressed, while you get used to the new you." I'm not sure how long I stood in front of that mirror, staring at my reflection. It may have been ten minutes, it might have been an hour later, when Jane came back into the room. She had changed into a short flowery sundress that showed off her outstanding figure. But, as appeared to be her style, she still wore nude sheer hose and high heels. Jane took me by the hand and led me to the bed. "Today, my dear, you're going to learn the pleasures of female lovemaking." She kissed me lightly, caressing my chest and arms. I started to lift up to try to kiss her, but she pushed me down, telling me to just lie back. "Exult in the passivity, just lie back and concentrate on receiving pleasure. When you have achieved that, you will know what to do." She kissed me lightly on my neck, behind my ear, on my hand. She lightly sucked each of my fingers in turn into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the fingertips. She caressed my breasts, lightly teasing them - even with the breast forms in place, I could feel my nipples hardening in response. She ran her hands up and down my legs, crawling on top of me, and rubbing her own stocking clad legs against my own - God I love that feeling. I could feel my cock straining inside of my panties, but I was intent on the pleasure that Jane was inflicting on my body. Jane unbuttoned my blouse, exposing my bountiful cleavage. She undid my skirt and slowly lowered it over my legs, letting the leather caress my skin along the way. She stood up and let her own dress fall to the floor, unhooking her bra to let her breasts swing freely. This was the first time I had seen Jane naked, and she had wonderful breasts with large, responsive nipples. She then slowly lowered her panties exposing a shaved pussy with glistening labia. She was very clearly excited by the whole process. Jane climbed back onto the bed, hugging me tightly - crushing our breasts together, our nyloned legs entwined. For what seemed like hours, she teased me, caressed me, pleasured me - but never letting me climax. At long last, she turned around so that we were in a sixty-nine position. Her hot breath on my cock nearly brought me over the edge. She pulled my panties down, allowing my cock to spring forth, at the same time lowering her dripping pussy onto my face. She was musky and wet and wonderful and I explored her nether regions with my tongue, slowly circling and probing. I allowed my tongue to linger over her ass, tickling her pick rosebud, before plunging it into her waiting pussy. She bucked against my face as my tongue flicked her clitoris. At the same time she was bathing my cock with her hot mouth, using her skilled tongue to keep me on the brink of orgasm. When she sensed I was too close, she moved down, kissing my balls, slowly sucking each one into her mouth. She began to circle my asshole with her finger, moist with saliva. Slowly she pushed one finger in, finger fucking me. Then she added a second finger, stretching me out yet further. As she added a third finger, she brought her mouth back to my cock and deep-throated me. The combination of sensations took me beyond the point of no return and I exploded into her mouth. Shortly after the ministrations of my tongue on her clit brought her to another bucking orgasm. We both lay there, spent and sated. Jane allowed my cock to slide from her mouth and I gave her pussy one last kiss, as we disentangled our bodies. We each got dressed again, collecting our clothes from the floor. We spent the afternoon slowly swilling drinks lying out on the lawn, reading trashy romance novels that were Jane's favorite. It was one of the most relaxing afternoons I have ever spent. Soon, however, evening was upon us, and Jane roused me from my languor. She sent me upstairs to dress for dinner, indicating that I should select the dress that most appealed to me. "Remember, though, this is a formal dinner, so dress appropriately." I looked through the closet and selected several candidate outfits: a slinky silver lame mini-dress, a beautiful black satin floor length gown, and a lovely red tulle empire waist dress. In the end, although they were all beautiful, I selected the silver mini-dress because it showed off my legs to their best effect. I selected a black lingerie set for the evening and a beautiful pair of black silk stockings to complete the outfit. I updated my make-up for evening and assess my image in the mirror. I was very happy with the result. I radiated a not-so-subtle sensuality and, maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I saw a glow in my cheeks that had not been there previously. Clearly Michelle was growing up and having fun in the process. I came back downstairs to the formal dining room where I was shocked to see a man in a tuxedo standing with his back to me in the corner. "Is this Lord Hartley? What will he think about seeing a man dressed as a woman in his dining room?" I went to leave, but then thought to myself - "Whoa Michelle. You're a beautiful young woman. Have confidence in yourself." At this point, the man turned around and I saw that it was in fact, Jane dressed in her husband's clothes. "Jane, is that you in there?" I asked. She had tied her hair back, bound her breasts and even applied a false mustache onto her face to enhance the effect. "No. For this evening, you can simply call me Master Hartley. Now sit down and let's eat, you silly girl." Obediently I sat down and together we ate a quiet dinner. As before, the wine was superb and the food was wonderful. Like the previous night, I found myself becoming very relaxed, enjoying the ambience. After dinner (and lots more wine), we retired to the sitting room. I sat on the settee, crossing my legs very demurely. "Master Hartley" selected a cigar and lit it before sitting down next to me. "He" leaned in close, and I noticed a strong masculine aroma - a mix of cologne, musk and cigar smoke. He surprised me by suddenly kissing me very roughly, forcing "his" tongue into my mouth. I surprised myself by responding passionately to the kiss, moaning as his tongue probed my mouth. After several minutes of passionate kisses that left me breathless, Jane grabbed my hands and brought them down to her crotch. Instead of a warm, wet pussy waiting for my tongue, my hand encountered something hard and long. Jane gruffly commanded me to get on my knees in front of her, and I knew what was expected of me. I reached up, undid "his" belt, pulling down the pants to expose - a thick strap-on. It had to be a good 1.5 inches in diameter and 8 inches long. I had never done this before, but it seemed right and Michelle wanted to do it. She wanted to please her "man". So I moved in, kissed the tip of the cock - leaving a lipstick print on the head. "God that is so sexy," Jane said. "Take it, suck it Michelle." I needed no further prompting. I took the head in my mouth, running my tongue over it, just as Jane had done to me this morning. I began to bob my head up and down trying to take more and more of the cock into my mouth. I kept hitting the gag reflex in my throat, though, so I was unable to deep throat her as I wanted to. But before long, Jane pulled my head off of the cock and said, "Turn around, I want to fuck you." This scared me. I had fantasized (as my wife knew) about having my ass fucked, but there is a big difference between fantasy and reality. But, again Michelle knew what she wanted and she turned around, wiggling her ass seductively at Jane. Jane got off the settee and reached down to grab and caresses my ass cheeks. She lifted the hem of my skirt to expose my panties. She ran her fingers down the crack of my ass, gently spreading the cheeks. Out of her pocket, she pulled a tube of lubricant and, squirting some on her finger, she gently inserted a finger past my delicate rosebud. I gasped as the cool finger entered my rectum. Jane inserted another finger, slowly relaxing my muscles, getting me used to the invasion - for the even larger invasion that I knew would come. A third and fourth finger followed, opening me yet further. I was pushing back against her fingers, wanting to be penetrated more deeply, begging to be fucked hard. Jane grasped the shaft of the dildo and positioned the head of her cock against my rosebud. "Show me how much you want to be fucked, my little slut. Show me," she said. I pushed my bottom back against her, but she kept backing up, teasing me. "Please fuck me. Oh God, I want it. Please stick your hard cock up my ass," I cried. At last, Jane gave me what I wanted. As I pushed back, she pushed forward, and in one long stroke she impaled me. For the first ten seconds, I was blinded by the pain. My first thought was, "What the hell was I thinking?" But gradually, the pain subsided and a slow, warm pleasure began to build. I experienced a very satisfying feeling of fullness, the deeper she drove her cock. Each time she pulled out, the loss of that fullness was overwhelming and I began to push back in rhythm to meet her thrusts. Jane grunted and groaned as she ground the strap on against herself. She reached over and grabbed my breasts from behind, squeezing and pulling. The sensations were beginning to overwhelm me and I lost myself in the rhythm. Jane cried out in pleasure as she rode my ass to a powerful orgasm. Soon, the pleasure in my groin took on a new rhythm and I felt waves of pleasure begin to mount and, without any manual stimulation I came all over the floor. "Once again, my dear, you've made quite a mess. I suggest you clean it up. Just do what comes naturally, you little slut," she said. I wasn't quite sure what she meant, but looking at the puddle of semen on the floor, it just felt natural to want to taste it. So I bent down and licked a drop. It tasted warm and salty and not at all bad. I lapped up the rest, with Jane urging me on. "That's it, you little cum slut. You love it. Drink it all. Don't worry - I'm sure you'll be able to milk more." I climbed to my feet, repairing my outfit. "Well, we've had quite a day, haven't we Michelle. I'm sure tomorrow will hold similar delights. Why don't we repair to our separate beds for the evening and try to recover our strength for tomorrow," Jane said. I climbed the stairs to my bedroom, changed into a pink satin nightgown, and clambered into bed only to fall into a dreamless sleep. Day Four - The Arrival of Lord Hartley I again awoke to new sensations - the rustle of my nightgown against the sheets, the slightly pleasant soreness in my ass. Again my pleasant ruminations were interrupted by a knock on the door, followed shortly by the entry of Jane into the room. "Good morning, Michelle. Did you sleep well?" "Like the dead," I said. "Don't worry. You'll get the chance to work up a sweat today - although a very ladylike sweat. Today, it's time for you to earn your keep. A stately house like this needs servants, and you, my dear, are my new French Maid," Jane said. With that she opened up the closet and selected a very short, black satin maid's dress and set it on the bed. "Make sure you select appropriate lingerie and footwear. I'll expect to see you downstairs in exactly 30 minutes," she said, and left the room. I jumped out of bed and quickly showered, making sure that I shaved my entire body to guarantee soft smooth skin. I selected a black bra and panty set (boy I loved these breast forms - they virtually seemed like a part of my body), garter belt, and black seamed stockings. I noticed that beside the maid's dress was a set of white petticoats. I slipped these on and then stepped into the maid's dress. It fit like a glove - in fact everything that was in this room seemed to be made exactly to fit me. I selected a pair of stiletto heeled black patent pumps to complete the outfit. It took only a few minutes to apply my make-up - How I loved creating those ruby-red, kissable lips. With a spritz of perfume, I was complete and a glance in the mirror confirmed that I was again a vision of feminine beauty - a schoolboy's wet dream (in fact many was the time I had masturbated to just such a vision, when I was a young boy). I walked downstairs and met Jane in the sitting room. After the sexual escapades of the previous several days I expected to find her dressed similarly to myself, but she was dressed in a rather conservative white linen pantsuit. "You make quite the lovely maid, my dear. You have a lot of work to do, so let's get you started," she said. She led me upstairs to a wing of the building I had not yet visited, and brought me into a very large bedroom with a very distinctively masculine air. "This is Lord Hartley's room. I expect him to return this evening, and we must make certain that everything is in order for his arrival," Jane said. "Please make his bed, launder his clothes - making sure to starch and iron his shirts, clean his bath, and when you're done meet me down in the kitchen." This was not quite what I had expected, and I was more than a little alarmed by the fact that Lord Hartley would be returning. But I was in fairly deep at this point, and I wasn't sure that I could extricate myself from this situation if I wanted to. I'll have to ride this out to its conclusion. So, I dived into the work, putting new linens on the bed, mopping the bathroom floor, cleaning the bath, gathering up Lord Hartley's soiled clothes and taking them downstairs to the laundry. In all, it took more than five hours to complete the tasks that Jane had set for me. It was tiring work, and in the process I got closer to Lord Hartley and his possessions than I wanted to. I met Jane in the kitchen where she set me to the task of preparing dinner for Lord Hartley and herself (Jane indicated that I would be eating in the kitchen). I put two place settings in the formal dining room, and started to prepare the complex menu for the evening. I was not a bad cook, but this was a more complex recipe than I had ever tried to make before. I just hoped it would meet Jane's exacting standards. I heard a bell ring from the dining room, indicating that I should bring out the soup course. I ladled soup into two bowls, placed them on a silver serving tray and carried them into the dining room. There I saw Jane, in a beautiful black floor length evening gown sitting across from a man who could only be Lord Hartley. He was not at all the image of the prissy, effeminate British aristocrat. No, there was no doubt that Lord Hartley was all man. He was very tall (probably 6' 4") with a stocky build, well muscled - dressed in a formal tuxedo. He had thick blond hair with a bushy blond mustache and piercing blue eyes. He was engrossed in quiet conversation with Lady Hartley as I came in, but as he looked up and I felt his gaze up and down me, lingering on my legs, I stumbled slightly, nearly spilling the soup. But he smiled kindly and I recovered sufficiently to place the soup in front of each of them. As I walked back into the kitchen I was sure that Lord Hartley was staring at my retreating form, and, for some reason, this made me feel good. In another five minutes, I brought out the salad along with a fresh bottle of wine. This time when I entered the room, I felt a little more confident and, unconsciously, there was a more exaggerated sway to my walk. I set the salads in front of each of them, and in a throaty voice asked Lady Hartley whether she would like more wine. "No my dear, but why don't you ask Lord Hartley?" she said. So I walked around the corner of the table and said to Lord Hartley, "More wine sir?" Lord Hartley looked up at me smiling, and I blushed slightly. "Yes, Michelle. I believe I will have more wine." As I leaned in to carefully pour the wine into his glass (I wanted to be very careful not spill any), I smelled Lord Hartley's musky cologne and I felt his eyes linger on my exposed cleavage. Slightly overwhelmed by it all, I hurriedly walked to the kitchen to make sure that the main course was ready. As I walked out, I could again feel Lord Hartley's gaze linger appreciatively on my legs and backside. I prepared the plates with the entree and reentered the dining room. This time I kept my gaze averted from Lady and Lord Hartley and was able to serve the main course without further problem. Thinking that I would soon be able to end this disturbing evening, I prepared to serve the dessert course. After an appropriate amount of time had elapsed, I brought the dessert in (pie with a dollop of whipped cream). As I leaned over to serve the pie, Lord Hartley unabashedly leered at me, making me feel both uncomfortable and slightly excited. "Oh Michelle, would you please pour me some more wine," he said. Obediently, I grabbed the bottle of wine, and leaned over to fill his glass. Just as I was about to pour the wine, he bumped my arm causing me to spill the wine into his lap. "Oh dear, you are the clumsy maid," said Lady Hartley. "Get a napkin and clean that mess up." I grabbed a nearby napkin, and Lord Hartley sat back, opening his legs to give me easier access to dab his crotch dry. "No. No. You're not getting it all. Get down on your knees so you can see what you are doing," said Lady Hartley. I dropped to my knees and began patting Lord Hartley's crotch to sop up the wine. The bulge in his pants was clearly visible and my touch just seemed to make it grow bigger. "The wine has seeped into the fabric. I'm afraid you'll have to remove those pants, my dear," said Lady Hartley. Lord Hartley stood up and unbuckled his pants allowing them to fall to the floor, where he kicked them away. Doing so had allowed his erection to spring forth, standing proud. I stood flabbergasted - it was huge. Easily 10 inches in length and very thick. Its purple head pulsed just a foot in front of my face, and I could not tear my eyes away from it. "Well, I'll go throw these pants in the wash, while you help my husband, Michelle," said Lady Hartley, and she walked out of the room. "Well you heard your Mistress, Michelle. I'm in great need of some relief, relief only you can provide," said Lord Hartley, and he stepped forward bringing his enormous cock level with my mouth. I knew what he wanted, and I still could not tear my eyes away from the monster. But I had never contemplated being with a real man, and fear, yes fear, held me back. "Would this help Michelle?" said Lord Hartley, dipping his finger in the whipped cream and slathering it on the head of his cock. He then brought his finger to my lips. I felt the cool, sweet cream on lips and involuntarily licked the cream off. That act broke my inhibition, and I hungrily sucked his finger into my mouth licking the sweet cream off and bathing his finger with my hot, wet mouth. "Well, well. That's much better my dear. But, I'm still in urgent need of relief," he said and he brought the tip of his cock forward to my lips. Again I felt the cool cream on my lips and snaked my tongue out licking some of the cream from the head of his cock. My tongue made contact with the warm flesh of his head, and it felt good. I licked all around the head, cleaning it. Soon all the whipped cream was gone (accompanied by moans of pleasure from Lord Hartley), but it was replaced by a slick drop of pre-come. Remembering the pleasant taste from the previous night, I reached my tongue out and tasted it, savoring the warm, salty flavor. "You are quite the cum slut, aren't you Michelle," he said. With that I took the head into my mouth. It was huge, stretching my jaw wide to accommodate it. I bathed the head with saliva, teasing the sensitive underside with my tongue. I tried to take more of his length into my mouth, stuffing several further inches in before hitting my gag reflex. Determined to take more, I fought the reflex and succeeded in taking still more of his length into my throat. I bobbed up and down on his shaft (to great effect, based on the increasingly loud moans from Lord Hartley), taking more length each time. After several minutes, I found my nose buried in his pubic hair, inhaling his musky, masculine scent. I had succeeded in taking his entire length! I began massaging his large testicles as I increased my pace. I could tell he was getting close, and as I encompassed his entire length the next time, he exploded shooting jets of come down my throat. I pulled off just far enough so that he shot the rest of his load into my mouth where I could savor the taste. I licked him clean, continuing to bathe his cock with my tongue, and his cock remained rock hard. It looked like he was ready to go again! "That was magnificent, Michelle! You are quite the accomplished cocksucker. But I'm afraid I require more of you, my dear. Specifically, I want some of that sweet ass of yours." He moved around behind me as I got on all fours. He pulled my panties down and caressed my ass and legs, making me very hot. My ass twitched at the thought of taking that monster in, and he teased me by rubbing his cock along the crack of my ass. He lined his cock up with my rosebud and pressed. The head was so large that the activities from the previous evening did little to prepare me to accept it. Lord Hartley pushed forward and I pushed back and with a pop, the head shoved past the ring of muscle at my asshole. The pain was excruciating, and Lord Hartley gave me time to adjust to the monster in my ass before moving. Slowly he began to push forward and I gasped as more of his length entered me. The pain gradually subsided, replaced by an overwhelming feeling of fullness. As even more of his shaft entered me, a wave of tremendous pleasure hit me. He pulled out and pushed back in and another wave of pleasure washed over me. I begged him to fuck me harder, faster, and he obliged pounding my ass for all it was worth. I was overcome by wave after wave of pleasure and I pumped load after load of come onto the front of my dress. Still, despite his moans, Lord Hartley held out, continuing to pump my ass like a jackhammer. He reached around, grabbing my tits, squeezing them. I grabbed one of his hands, bringing it to my mouth, slowly sucking on his finger like a cock. This seemed to put him over the edge as he suddenly moaned loudly and I felt his cock spasm inside my ass, shooting load after load of cum into my rectum. Slowly, he withdrew his cock from my ass, and I was shocked at the sudden emptiness I felt. Lord Hartley said, "Thank you dear. That was most pleasurable, and we'll have to do this again," and walked upstairs to his bedroom. I tried to stand, but the soreness of my backside forced me to lie back down. I felt used, but very feminine and sexy. I had cum in my mouth and cum dripping out of my backside. I thought to myself as I got back up and began clearing the table, "Michelle you really have come of age, haven't you." Day 5 - Disclosure I awoke the next morning, showered, dressed in a fresh maid's uniform and went downstairs to prepare breakfast. When I walked into the dining room, I found four place settings already set with breakfast laid out. Lady Hartley was already at the table, and she invited me to sit. "Good morning, Michelle. You're looking lovely this morning. I take it last night's activities agreed with you. Well, as a reward, you shall have breakfast with us this morning. And we have a guest, someone I believe you already know." As she said this, Lord Hartley walked in, clad in green silk pajamas, with his arm around - Julie - my wife! "Oh, isn't she darling looking. I hope Michelle has provided good service to you both," Julie said. "Oh yes," said Lady Hartley, "She has been most accommodating. Everything proceeded exactly as you suggested." As Julie had suggested? I was still too stunned by her presence here to understand the implications of what Lady Hartley had said (she was supposed to be back in the U.S. arranging the sale of our house). Lord Hartley kissed Julie passionately before the two separated and sat down at the table. "A bit confused, Michelle?" asked Julie. I could only nod dumbly. "Well," she said, "it was all so easy in retrospect. You know how much I've always wanted to live in England. When your job opportunity here arose here, it seemed like the perfect opportunity for the lifestyle change we both desired. You've been a frustrated, closet crossdresser for years. Your inability to satisfy your own internal needs, sapped the pleasure out of sex for both of us. I couldn't stand to have sex with you dressed as a poor parody of woman, and as a man, you had little to offer besides your tongue. I've been forced to take my pleasure from other men - real men - for a number of years now, all while you've been prancing around at home in your pretty dresses, tickling your ass with your dildos, but never admitting to yourself that what you need is a real man. "So, when this opportunity arose I checked the swinger ads on the Internet and ran across Lord and Lady Hartley. Lord Hartley is independently wealthy and uses his wealth to pursue pleasure. I contacted them, described our situation and they invited me to visit them. Remember that house hunting trip that I did here while you were closing out your old job? I spent most of that on my back, or on my knees enjoying the pleasures of both Lord and Lady Hartley. Yes, Michelle, that's right. I am bisexual. The way you look now, I think I would enjoy having sex with you, but I will always still need a real man like Lord Hartley. "In any case, they offered a unique living situation. You and I would live with them, servicing whichever of them desires us. You see, Lord Hartley enjoys women but he also like "special girls" like yourself. Lady Hartley does not like men at all, hates above all else to be penetrated. She prefers the joys of lesbian love and both you and I seem to fit her needs. So it's a situation, that works out for all of us. You get to truly be the woman you need to be, letting Michelle develop to full womanhood. I get to live in England in a beautiful manor house and I get the sexual fulfillment that I need. Lord and Lady Hartley get their special needs met as well. "Oh, don't worry about your job. I've already contacted your company to let them know that, for medical reasons, you've had to retire. So, they've already filled your position here. And, it wasn't necessarily a lie that I told them. You will be undergoing some medical procedures to make your body better fit your current lifestyle. In fact, your appointment for breast implants is tomorrow. Once you've had that procedure, you could hardly go back to your old life, now could you?" I was stunned - both saddened and elated, apprehensive and eager. Clearly, Michelle was going to have a great life in England, but his life as Michael was over. I just needed time to take it all in. "Now dear," said Lady Hartley, "would you please serve our breakfast. We have a big day in front of us. We'll be hosting a party this evening, and your unique services will be required." That's how I became "To the Manor Born".