The Fellmonger's Apprentice free porn video

Author's note: This story is a digression from "Two Halves" It details how Alistair and Chrissies first met and how he became her devoted servant. The usual conditions apply. B.G. The Fellmongers Apprentice By Belle Gordon I Alistair Sterling's thirty years of life had been hard and difficult. He had spent his years living with his widowed mother in a tiny tied- cottage on the estate of the late Lord Dumbarton. His father, whom he only dimly remembered, had been killed in a traffic accident when Alistair was four. His education, such as it was, had been acquired in the one-room village school where the teacher, a grey haired crone had maintained discipline with a sturdy bamboo cane. He'd left school at thirteen and become apprenticed to Donald Kinloss, a fellmonger who owned a factory nearby. The work was hard; the hours long and the rewards little. The work necessitated spending all day with his arms immersed in water stripping wool and hair from hides prior to their shipment to a tannery to be made into leather. He laboured there for ten years before production finally ceased when it became uneconomic to process the hides in such an arcane manner. Modern industrial processes had forced many small businesses to the wall, and Alistair, along with the rest of the work force became unemployed. Alistair's experience of life outside the little community in which he lived was very limited. He'd once travelled to Edinburgh on a day trip with his work mates, and been overwhelmed by the sheer size of the place and the numbers of people. Likewise his contact with the opposite sex, and matters sexual were equally limited: in fact it was zero. The only woman he had ever kissed was his mother. From childhood he had been regularly punished, often for the most trivial of offences. His mother was a firm believer in the adage; spare the rod, spoil the child. Alistair would find himself across his mothers lap for all manner of crimes, real or imagined, from being slow to leave his bed in the morning to being tardy returning to it in the evening, and a hundred other misdemeanours in between. As he grew older he noticed a curious thing happening. After the initial stinging pain of the spanking had abated it was replaced with a pleasurable glowing sensation, which he came to like and want. He began to deliberately get into trouble so that his mother would smack his bottom just to experience the pleasure afterwards. The punishments didn't stop when he left school and started work but took a different form. It was normal practice at that time and in that society for employees to be flogged for any infringement of company rules; sackings were extremely rare. But here the beatings were more formalized and carried out before the assembled workers. The offender was required to stand before his workmates, raise his kilt and present his naked buttocks for chastisement by bending over a trestle especially set up for the purpose. Donald Kinloss would personally administer the punishment using a homemade leather slapper. After each cut the offender was required to shout out, "One, thank you sir. Two, thank you sir. Three thank you sir." And so on for however many strikes he'd been awarded. Although the hits were much more severe than his mother ever managed to inflict on his tender behind, he found they still had the same effect on him. He also discovered that the shame and humiliation of being publicly spanked increased the enjoyable sensation he felt; so much so that he would get hard. When the others noticed his erection he'd be jeered and scorned which further added to his mortification and consequent pleasure. Once again he deliberately contrived to get into trouble knowing full well what the consequences would be. The number of cuts he received varied depending on the offence, from a minimum of five to a maximum of twenty-five, which he once received for ruining a valuable pelt. He was the only employee being regularly flogged; the other workers rarely got into trouble. Donald Kinloss was very aware that it was young Alistair who was most frequently in trouble, and it was no coincidence that Donald was eager to administer the slaps. Before Alistair's arrival the opportunity to chastise a naked rear-end were few and far between, and Donald looked forward to and savoured the experience. After each session he would hurriedly return to his office, lock the door and masturbate with the sound of leather slapping quivering buttocks ringing in his ears. After a time he began spanking Alistair in his office. It wasted too much valuable time away from their work when the men witnessed the punishment. These sessions, away from the eyes of the other men, began to take on more ritual approach. Donald would make Alistair stand, with bowed head, before his desk and apologise for whatever misdeed he was guilty of and beg to be punished. Alistair also had to decide on the number of strokes he was to receive. Donald was gratified to note that he always asked for more than he would have given him, but he never disagreed. Donald had installed a special padded trestle for the purpose. It was at a height that neither his feet nor his hands touched the floor when bent over it. With his buttocks in the air Donald would slowly fold Alistair's kilt up over his back exposing his shapely buns. He administered each slap with deliberate slowness relishing the sight and sound of each smack. After each stroke Alistair was required to say "Thank you Mr. Kinloss for spanking me." And after the last one, "Thank you very much for my punishment, Mr Kinloss." On being told he could go, Donald would lock his door and Alistair would rush to the toilets where both would masturbate to release. He had discovered masturbation by accident when he was twelve. His mother had given him a particularly harsh spanking and he'd gone to his bedroom to soothe his bottom. Removing his kilt he massaged his tender cheeks with both hands, whilst lying face down on his bed. The friction of the coarse blanket on his erection was most enjoyable. He began to writhe his hips about on it, stroking his penis against the bed. Turning onto his back he took his prick between his palms and rubbed. The effect was immediate and intense. His brain and cock was suffused with a gratifying feeling that left him weak and puzzled. He wasn't sure what had happened but he knew he liked it. A little while later he did it again with the same results. Soon he was satisfying himself daily and always after a spanking. II In the years since the factory closed he had sustained himself and his ailing mother, till her death, by doing odd jobs wherever he could find them. He hunted the woodlands and heaths for rabbits and game, which he sold. He fished the rivers illegally for trout and salmon when he knew the bailiff was away, and sold the fish to hotels with no questions asked. It was on one such foray as he walked though the woodland checking his rabbit snares that he had heard splashing. Carefully he had approached the source and discovered a beautiful young girl swimming in the deep pool where the river dropped over a small waterfall. She was unaware of his presence, and he watched enraptured as she swam to the side of the pool where she'd left her clothes. Open mouthed he stared as she emerged from the water like a naiad. Water streamed from her naked body, which glistened like an eel, her hair was matted to her head and shoulders. Her firm breasts sat proudly on her chest; the cold water had shrivelled her nipples into hard nubbins. But what dumbfounded him were the male genitalia clearly visible at the junction of her thighs. The cold had shrunk the penis to an inch in length and the testicles had retracted into her body, but they were unmistakably male organs. With a large towel she dried herself then wrapped it around her body like a toga and began combing out her hair. Suddenly she looked up and saw him standing in the trees watching her. "Oh, Hello," she said, surprised to see him. "Who are you?" "Alistair," he stammered. "Alistair Stirling. How do you do." "I'm Chrissie De Coursey," she said, "I live in the big house." She held out her hand to him. He walked from his cover, took her hand and shook it. She noticed it was trembling slightly. "Nice to meet you Alistair." She said. "Where did you come from?" "I live in one of the estate cottages. I was walking through the woods when I heard you splashing about in the water." "Would you please turn your back while I dress" she asked. He did so immediately and she was soon covered up as she only wore panties and a light summer dress. "Okay, I'm respectable now. You can turn round." She said, slipping her feet into sandals. When he did so he stared at her as thought she was a priceless work of art. He had never seen anyone more beautiful. Her lithe adolescence figure and small breasts enchanted him. And despite what he knew was under her skirt he fell in love with her, albeit, unrequited. At that moment he silently committed himself to her service. He knew he would do anything she ordered without a moment's hesitation. He felt a compulsion to be her servant; he wanted to spend his life serving her. "Would you like some tea?" He nodded dumbly. "Then bring my bag and we'll go and get some. You must meet my mother and my governess. If we are neighbours we should get to know each other." She said. He immediately picked up her small canvas bag and the wet towel and fell in beside her. He wore his usual tweed kilt, heavy woollen socks with stout brogues and a course grey wool shirt. She noticed that his legs were thin and hairless and were covered with briar scratches. She chatted as they walked the mile or so back to the house. She soon discovered he was extremely shy and was prone to blushing. She had never before seen a man so tongue tied or uncomfortable in her presence. She was amused and empowered by the fact. The tea was an ordeal for him. Never in his life had he been in the company of three more articulate and worldly women. He contributed very little to the conversation, mainly because he couldn't keep up with their chatter and when he could he wasn't sure what they were talking about. Eventually it was over and he hadn't dropped his plate or spilt his tea. He said goodbye and promised to call over the next day. Later, as Chrissie lay in bed she wondered why she felt so excited at having such power over a man fifteen years her senior. She lazily stroked her hard cock remembering his squirming embarrassment when she'd introduced him to Mummy and Sally. The possibilities were endless, she thought. She was eager to test out exactly how much power she could exert over him. She'd start the next day when he called. Over the next few weeks she gradually found more and more things for him to do, usually menial tasks. When she asked him if he minded doing little jobs for her, he explained that he had little else to do with his time, and was pleased to be of help in any way he could. He began by doing small tasks like washing and servicing the cars. He became her chauffeur and groom, looking after the stables and saddling her horse whenever she wanted to ride. She showed him her bedroom where each day he made her bed, cleaned and dusted. He hung her scattered clothes in the closets and cleaned her shoes. Soon he was doing her laundry and ironing her clothes, even hand washing her underwear. Handling her most intimate garments was the cause of much embarrassment to him, but he did whatever she asked, without complaint and was always eager for the next chore. She always insisted he carry her handbag and whatever else she brought along on their frequent walks around the estate. On sunny afternoons they would often picnic by the stream and he'd struggle with the hamper, blankets, primus stove and often a small fold-up table. On one such expedition, after they had finished their tea and Alistair had re-packed everything, he said, "Chrissie, can I ask you something?" "Of course," she replied. She noticed he was having difficulty finding the words he wanted to say. His speech was hesitant and stammering. After several false starts she said impatiently, "Come on, spit it out." "I-I-I don't know how to put this," he began again. "It's something that's been bothering me for a long while, since I first saw you in fact: when I watched you swimming in the rock pool." He paused his face beginning to colour. She nodded encouragement. "I-I saw you when you came out of the water." He finished in a rush. "So?" "Y-Y-You had no clothes on. And I s-s-saw you" She realized what he was trying to say and what was the cause of his discomfort. She should have known that if he had seen her naked he'd therefore have seen the anomaly in her appearance. "Are you trying to say that you saw my boy's things?" He could only nod his head. His eyes were cast down and his face and neck were scarlet. "Well it was very naughty of you to spy on me," she said deciding to adopt an aggressive attitude. "You will have to be punished for doing such a terrible thing. Don't you agree?" She was amazed at herself for saying such a thing. She didn't know where the idea had come from. It just popped into her head. She had never punished anyone before, least of all a man who was nearly old enough to be her father. She wasn't even sure what to do. But Alistair solved the problem by cutting a springy sapling from a nearby willow tree and presenting it to her. She took it from him, still unsure of what to do next. He then prostrated himself on the grass, raised his kilt above his bare buttocks and waited. She was shocked and then excited to discover that she was turned on. The sight of his prone, submissive body gave her an erection. The thought of caning a man had never before entered her head, but now that she was about to do so she trembled with anticipation, her cock becoming rock hard. She shuffled over to kneel beside him, raised the cane and struck it across his cheeks. The blow wasn't too hard but it never-the-less left a red stripe. She struck again, harder this time and was fascinated by the marks she made on his white skin. Eight more times she whipped the cane across his quivering buttocks creating a pattern of parallel red stripes. She would have continued but her climax, which soaked her panties, left her arm too weak to rise again and she dropped the switch. "There, that should teach you a lesson, not to spy on young ladies. You are never to mention what you saw to any one: ever. Do you understand?" "Yes Miss," he croaked. "Thank you for punishing me. I know I did wrong and I deserved it. I promise never to reveal your secret to anyone." "Very well. Gather up the things and we'll head back home." When he stood up she saw a small pool of white cream where he'd been lying. III The next day being a Sunday Chrissie had invited Alistair to afternoon tea with Olivia and Sally. A devilish idea had formed in her mind as she lay in bed the previous night, as to how she could further humiliate him. When they were all settled with tea and cakes Chrissie casually asked if it were true that Scots men wore nothing under their kilts. She knew in his case that it was true, because she'd plainly seen yesterday when she had scourged his backside. He blushed furiously and was unable to speak with embarrassment. "Why don't you show us," she said. "Come on don't be shy, let's see if it's true or not." The other's eagerly encouraged him. At their urging he stood and like a zombie gradually raised the hem of his kilt sufficient only to reveal the tops of his legs. "Higher, please," Chrissie ordered. "Raise it to your waist." Slowly he lifted his kilt, like a curtain before a play, and revealed the fading yet clearly visible evidence of the flogging he received. To gasps of surprise then hoots of amusement he stood displaying his shame for the room to see. Chrissie cock was painfully hard inside her panties and she longed to stroke it. With a struggle she brought her concentration back to the present. "As you can see, Alison has been a naughty little boy and has had his bottom caned." The idea of calling him Alison had suddenly come to her as a further degradation. "Thank you Alison," She said. "That was very enlightening. You may cover up now." He dropped the kilt and ran from the room blushing bright crimson, the sound of their laughter ringing in his ears. He wished with all his heart that he could disappear. Later when Chrissie and he were alone together she apologised for making him reveal his naked buttocks to everyone. "Why did you do it and cause yourself so much embarrassment?" she asked. "Because you told me to." He replied simply. "But you don't have to do everything I tell you. You should have refused. Didn't you know I was only teasing?" "But I do, Chrissie!" He blurted. "Don't you understand? If you told me to stand on my head and sing 'Scotland the Brave' in the middle of Saughyhall Street, I'd do it. I'll do anything you ask me. All I want to do is to serve you." She was somewhat taken aback by his sudden declaration of devotion and obedience but she was also delighted. Chrissie found him more work to do around the house. As well polishing and dusting he had to clean all the bathrooms and toilets. The fittings and porcelain had to be spotless. He disposed of all the garbage and the kitchen waste. Whenever he worked in the house he had to wear an apron and lace mobcap. He was also forbidden to wear his heavy brogue shoes as they damaged the wooden floors. When he said he didn't have any others she found him a pair of low-healed ladies loafers but they didn't fit with his thick socks. She then gave him a pair of nylon pop- socks. Worn together with his kilt he looked quite feminine. IV Over the following days she thought a lot about what he'd said regarding his commitment to serving her, and decided to test his devotion to discover exactly how far she could push him before he said no. So after he had completed his household chores to her satisfaction she asked him, "Alison, would you really do anything for me no matter what it was?" "Yes, Chrissie I would. I told you, I'll do anything you tell me to." "No matter how demeaning or humiliating?" "If it's what you want then, yes, I'll do it." "Okay, then," she said. "Nine o'clock tomorrow morning bring the car round and collect me. We are going to Edinburgh shopping." On the dot of nine the next morning he was waiting with car as she came down the steps. She noticed that he'd waxed and polished it for it gleamed in the morning sun. He must have been up since six o'clock to get it done, she thought. He was dressed in his Sunday best kilt, short dress jacket and tam-o'-shanter. He'd once explained to her that he was entitled, through some distant relative, to wear the Urquhart tartan. She had to admit that he looked very smart and manly. He held the passengers door open for her then climbed in and drove off. During the drive she explained to him what he would have to do. "Alison you told me yesterday that you would do anything I asked, so I'm going to give you a little test to see if you meant it. Are you still willing to do anything I say?" When she'd first begun calling him Alison he'd cringed, but now accepted it. "Of course. Anything." He replied. "Okay. But remember, you can say no at any time. You are doing this because you want to. Understand?" He nodded his acceptance. "When we get to the city we are going to a certain shop that sells very expensive and exclusive lingerie. You do know what lingerie is, don't you?" "I'm not sure." He was beginning to suspect what was in store for him. "Lingerie is ladies underwear. You know the panties, bras, suspender belts and slips etceteras, that we wear. You are going to enter the shop and buy the most expensive and sexiest bra and panty set they have. Furthermore, you are to make it clear that the items you are buying are for your own use; that you intend to wear them yourself. Is that clear?" "Yes it's clear. But why do you want me to do this?" "Because, my dear boy, I want to see if you really mean it when you say that you'll do anything for me." She could see from the corner of her eye that he was blushing at the thought of buying intimate articles of feminine attire. She felt a delicious thrill at his discomfort and fidgeted about to reposition her hardening cock more comfortably. "I shall also enter the shop to check that you do what I say, but you are to act as though we are strangers. Is that understood?" "Yes Madam, I understand." He said. This was the first time he had addressed her as madam, tacitly acknowledging her superior position. "But I beg you, don't make me do this. The shame is too much. You know I'll do anything you want, but not this. Please." "You will do as you are told." She snapped, raising her voice. Time to really show him who the boss is she thought. "Now, repeat to me exactly what are you to do?" Sighing in resignation he said, "I'm to buy the sexiest set of ladies underwear they have." "Correct. And what else?" "I'm to say that I am buying them for myself." "And?" "I'm to make it clear that I shall be wearing them." "Good. Here's some cash to pay for the items." She passed him ?300. They parked the car and walked to the 'Lady Midnight Lingerie' boutique. Chrissie entered first and began examining sleepwear. A few minutes later Alistair entered and walked to the counter. A girl of perhaps 18 looked up as he approached and asked if she could be of assistance. "Yes. Err, I'd like to buy some, err, underwear please." "I'm sorry, sir." She said. "We don't stock gentlemen's garments." "Err, I know." He whispered. "It's, err, err, ladies underwear that I wish to buy." He said it so quietly that the girl leaned forward and said, "I'm sorry, what did you say?" Alistair's blushes were bright scarlet by now. He cleared his throat and said more loudly, "I wish to buy some ladies underwear." "Yes sir. What do you have in mind?" Again Alistair coughed and said, "I'd like the sexiest bra and panty set you have, please." "Very good, sir. What size bra do you require?" she asked. Alistair was at a complete loss. He had no idea what size he wanted. "I'm afraid I don't know." "Well is the lady big, small, my size?" she asked, being helpful. "Well, actually, my size." He muttered. "Do you mean you want them for yourself?" she asked in amazement. Alistair could only nod his head. "Excuse me a moment, sir. I must get the manager." She turned and walked away. Alistair also turned and made for the door. Chrissie barred his way and silently shook her head. He turned and returned to the counter as the sales assistant and her manager arrived. "Good morning, sir." She said in her most unctuous tone. "Miss Fife tells me you wish to purchase some lingerie. For yourself. What exactly do you mean by that?" Alistair took a deep breath and said. "Yes, that is correct. Err, I want them to err, to err wear myself." "I see, sir. This is most unusual. Still if you wish to buy them for yourself, then I see no reason why we should not sell them to you. Miss Fife, perhaps you will show the gentleman what we have." A mother and her teenage daughter had entered the shop while this exchange was taking place and now they moved closer to watch the proceedings. Chrissie had also moved next to Alistair and said loudly. "I think it is very nice that this gentleman wants to wear feminine lingerie. Show him the sexiest things you have." The mother snorted and said "I think he's a disgusting pervert and should be locked up." "Oh, Mummy, don't be so old fashioned." The daughter said. "Why shouldn't he wear women's clothes if he wants to? I think he's rather sweet." Miss Fife was now spreading out various bra and panty sets. Alistair was unable to look at them and kept his eyes downcast. His face was now the colour of beetroot. Chrissie's erection was becoming painful and she could feel pre-cum wetting the crutch of her panties. "I shall have to measure you for your bra size, sir. Will you please remove your jacket?" The manager said. He shucked his jacket off and placed it on a chair. The manager passed a tape round his chest and read off 36 inches. "What about cup size?" she asked. By this time Alistair was unable to speak and simply shrugged his shoulders. "What do you use for breasts?" she persisted. "Tissue paper, rolled up panties, water filled balloons or do you have proper breast forms?" Chrissie also came at this moment. The humiliation was exquisite. Again Alistair was speechless. "Well do you prefer large breasts or a smaller size?" "Medium" Alistair blurted. "Okay, a C. cup then," she said. "Now do you prefer a full cup, a half cup, a platform, under-wired, front fastening?" "I don't know," Alistair cried in despair, He was near to tears with embarrassment. "Perhaps I can help him?" Chrissie said. She quickly selected the prettiest lace bra and panty in apricot satin. Do you have a matching garter belt?" she asked. One was found. "I'm sure he would like some stockings too. Give him half a dozen pairs in various shades." The teenage girl who had been watching in fascination came forward and held a full-length slip against his front and said, "I think this is gorgeous. Perfect for a sissy gentleman. Would you like to wear it with your bra and panties?" Alistair could only nod. At this stage he would have given his life for the floor to open and swallow him up. He burned with embarrassment and humiliation. "I think you should buy this too." Chrissie said, holding up a matching powder blue, baby-doll nightie and negligee. "You have to have something nice to sleep in." "Will that be all, sir?" the manager asked. "Yes thank you," Alistair murmured, "That'll be all." He handed her his money. Miss Fife carefully folded his purchases and placed them in a carrier bag with "Lady Midnight Exclusive Lingerie" prominently printed on it. As she handed him the bag together with his receipt. The manager said, "I hope you enjoy wearing your lovely lingerie. Please visit us again." Clutching his bag he turned to leave. As he opened the door the mother hissed, "You pervert. You're nothing but a sissy, faggot." Chrissie asked the manager if she could use the toilet. As soon as she closed and locked the door she reached under her skirt, drew her panties aside and gripped her aching cock. The touch of her hand on her throbbing penis was sufficient to make her come. Her sperm erupted from the eye of her cock spraying the wall and floor. Her knees buckled and she was obliged to sit on the bowl. Her cum continued to flow from her rigid cock running over her pumping hand and onto her skirt. It took her several minutes to recover and clean the sticky cum from her skirt and panties. She washed her hands and face, brushed her hair and touched up her lipstick before leaving. V She spotted Alistair waiting at the corner as she walked from the shop. She strode up to him and hooked her arm through his. "That wasn't so bad was it?" "Oh, Chrissie it was awful. Never in my life have I felt so humiliated. I'm burning with shame. How could you make do such a thing to me?" "Because you wanted to prove to me that you'll do whatever I ask. You wanted to show me you're willing to do anything I say. Now stop complaining, you've passed the first part of your test." "The first part?" "Yes. The second part is easy." She said. They had been walking along the street and had arrived at an underground public toilet. "Down you go and put them on. You need only wear the bra and panties. And don't be long; I don't want to get picked up while I'm waiting." "Oh Chrissie, Do I have to? Haven't you tortured me enough?" "Just do it!" she snapped. "And no more arguments." With a resigned shrug he descended the steps. The place stank of stale urine, was littered with pieces of paper, cigarette ends and used condoms. It clearly hadn't been cleaned for ages. Producing a coin he dropped it into the slot and entered the second cubicle from the end. He removed his kilt and jacket, and hung them on a peg behind the door. He rummaged in the bag and found the panties, held them up to determine which way round to wear them. He assumed the side with the lace panel was the front. Bending he inserted first one foot then the other and slowly pulled them up. He was amazed at the sensation he felt as the soft silky material slid up his legs. He'd never felt anything so sensuous. He snuggled them round his bottom and was surprised to feel his cock erecting. The bra presented a problem. Never having worn one he had no idea how to put it on. He fastened it together and found it was a simple hook and eye. Removing his shirt he put his arms through the shoulder straps and tried in vain to reach up his back and fasten it. He would never get it closed like that, he decided, so he removed it again and thought about the problem. In a flash he had the solution. Putting it round his waist he clipped it together at the front then slid it round to the back. Pushing his arms through the shoulder straps he wiggled it into place. It felt very strange wearing this thing on his chest. The elasticised sides bit into his flesh and the under-wired cups squeezed his fleshy pecs together, pushing them upwards to form a quite convincing cleavage. He felt strangely excited to be dressed so. He had come to full erection and the head of his penis protruded from the top of his panties. It was then, as he sat on the toilet bowl savouring the pleasure of wearing a woman's dainty bra and panties, that he saw the eye. It was watching him through a hole that had been made in the partition between his stall and the end one. He started back at it, frozen with fear. Then it disappeared. Moments later it was replaced by a large, black, rigid penis. The head shone in the artificial light, the foreskin pulled tightly back on the shaft. As Alistair started in horror it twitched and a thread of clear sticky stuff dripped from the urethra. He heard a voice whisper huskily, "Suck it baby. Suck my dick, you pretty girlie boy." Alistair panicked. He grabbed his kilt and pulled it on, then his shirt and jacket. He didn't wait to button it but left the cubicle with it flapping open. Then he remembered the shopping bag. He darted back inside to get it. As he reached forward he slipped on some filth on the floor and fell to his knees. Something hot and soft brushed his cheek as he lunged forward. He turned his head to see what it was and was horrified to see the monstrous prick just inches from his face. At that moment the cock ejaculated. A stream of hot sperm hit him squarely in the face. His mouth fell open in surprise and he was hit by a second spurt that landed on the back of his tongue. Before he could recover, his mouth was filled with hot cum. He closed his mouth and swallowed involuntarily gulping down the stranger's jism. Before he could get to his feet several more globs of spunk hit him in the face, neck and chest, some finding its way onto his new bra. Scrabbling to his feet he grabbed the bag and ran from the vile place. He raced up the steps three at a time his shirt billowing open. Emerging into the light and onto the crowded footpath he frantically looked around for Chrissie. She was nowhere to be seen. He began to run back the way they had come desperately searching for her. Pedestrians moved aside as this mad man wearing a kilt and a woman's bra, his face covered in white sticky cream ran along the pavement. Suddenly he saw her sitting at a sidewalk caf?. He ran to her, never happier to see anyone than now. He sat down facing her panting and grinning with relief. She looked at him in disbelief. Here was a man who only ten minutes ago had been mortified buying lingerie and was now sitting on a public street wearing a bra for the entire world to see. And if she was not mistaken, his face was covered in semen. "Alison, what happened to you?" she demanded to know. "You don't seem too embarrassed now." He suddenly realised what she meant. He looked down, saw his dishevelment, and quickly pulled the two sides of his shirt together. The white cum on his face stood out starkly against the crimson blush that suffused his cheeks. "Come on Chrissie, please let's go." He pleaded. "I've had a most horrid experience." "Okay." She agreed. "But you must tell me every detail as we drive home. And by the way, I like you bra." VI On the journey home, his telling of the public lavatory experience, together with the memory of his acute embarrassment in the lingerie boutique had given her a tremendous erection that was in urgent need of attention. Spotting a turn off into a wooded area she ordered him to take it and then stop. "Alison," she began, "I'm very pleased with the way you behaved this afternoon. You have done well, but there is one final test you must pass." "Yes Miss." He said with a hint of resignation in his voice. He'd thought wearing the items was the last test. "Get out and come round to my side." She opened the car door and stretched her legs out onto the ground. "On your knees, Alison," she ordered, "and lift up my skirt. Now pull down my panties and remove them." Her hard cock swayed before his face. "Now you must do what you refused to do in the public loo." Her dick twitched in anticipation. "Suck it." "Oh no." He said, the revulsion at the thought of sucking her penis making him shudder. "I couldn't possibly put it in my mouth." "Do it!" She ordered, thrusting her prick against his tightly closed lips. He gingerly took her rigid member in his hands; one, hesitantly cupped her balls, the other griped the shaft. Other than his own, this was the first penis he had ever touched. He stared at the purple knob shaking his head in disbelief at what she demanded of him. For several seconds he didn't move; then he slowly opened his mouth and lowered his head onto the hot, engorged bell-end. Closing his lips tightly round the gland he sucked. He was astonished to discover that he wasn't as repulsed as he'd expected, but he actually enjoyed the sensation of a living phallus pulsing in his mouth. He lowered his head as far as he could, taking in almost the whole length of her rod; them sucked hard as he pulled back. Chrissie was delighted by his natural gift for fellatio and reclined across the seat as he rapidly brought her to a climax. As her sperm filled his mouth and throat she wrapped her thighs around his neck and held his head clamped tightly to her so that he lost none of her seed. "Ah! Yes! Alison. That's good: very good. Swallow it all, you mustn't lose any of my cum. That's it, drink it down." For the second time in one day he drank human semen. Her sperm tasted quite different from the black guy's. Where his was bitter and tart, Chrissie's was sweet and light with a hint of honey; in fact, he decided it tasted very pleasant. He could get to like it. When her limp prick slid from his hungry mouth she said. "Thank you, Alison, that was an excellent blow job." Sitting up she replaced her panties and tidied her skirt. "Now as a reward for being such a willing subject, and giving me so much pleasure, you may relieve yourself." He looked at her blankly. "Stay exactly as you are, on your knees, and you have my permission to masturbate." He hesitated still, not fully understanding what she meant. "Come on." She said, "Pull your kilt up and take yourself in hand or you will miss the opportunity. You won't get a second chance." Tentatively, one hand lifted up his kilt and pulled aside the panties he still wore; the other closed round his erection. His pumping hand gradually speeded up and soon brought himself to a finish. Chrissie was watching closely for the moment of his ejaculation, and when it came she held a shoe ready to catch his gushing sperm. There was a surprising amount, which almost filled the heel of the shoe. When his hand stopped beating his cock, and the last drop of cum dripped from the head, she presented the offering to him. "Here you are, Alison, drink up. It's a crime to waste valuable spunk, no matter whose it is." He took the high-healed shoe, brought it to his lips and slurped the sticky stuff from it. Finally he stretched his tongue inside and licked up any remaining traces. VII Chrissie never again publicly humiliated him to the same degree as that afternoon in Edinburgh. She did, however, endeavour to embarrass him whenever possible; she loved to see him blush and squirm. Watching his discomfort gave her great enjoyment. His devotion to her was now unquestioned: he worshiped her. He moved into the big house, giving up his little cottage, the only home he had ever known, and was installed in a room, that in grander days, had been the servants' quarters. He dedicated himself to serving her in any way he could. When she awoke in the morning he'd be waiting with her breakfast, he drew her bath, selected the clothes she wore, assisted with her make-up and hair, and was on hand for any little thing she might need doing through-out the day, as well as all the cleaning he was required to do. Later when they moved to London, he became her personal assistant, secretary, housekeeper and chauffeur as well as providing whatever beauty treatments she wanted. In return for his life of servility and obedience Chrissie paid him a small allowance, clothed, fed and housed him. Despite his dedication and the impeccable care he gave her, she never- the-less, found excuses to cane him regularly. This was for their mutual benefit as they both took satisfaction from either giving or receiving. Over the years she built up a considerable collections of whips, canes, birches and straps, and developed many interesting and subtle techniques for administering punishment. After each chastisement he was obliged to kneel between her legs and serviced her cock with his mouth and tongue, an experience he came to thoroughly enjoy. Fellatio was the only form of intimacy she ever allowed him; he was never permitted to touch any other part of her body in a sexual way. As for his own relief, he was permitted to masturbate once a month, and only under her close supervision. But he was content. The End. As usual your comments, good or bad, are very much appreciated. 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