Uncle Roger - Part 2 free porn video

I understood why my mother wouldn't trust me. After all, she had found her underwear in my bedroom, and what mother wants to deal with that scenario? She obviously thought that leaving me with Uncle Roger when she was working late was a good idea - as a former teacher, you'd expect him to be responsible. But instead of supervising me doing my homework, he had humiliated me more than I ever thought possible. In fact, some of his behaviour was nothing short of abuse. Forcing me to swap my school uniform for a girls uniform - complete with knickers and bra - was bad enough. But it was the other things he had done which really sent a shiver down my spine. Why had he forced me to read aloud the story of a girl giving her first blow job? Why had he insisted that I walk like a girl, spanking me when I forgot to do so? And why had he lifted my skirt and touched me like that? This had gone beyond simple punishment, he was obviously getting a kick from this... and he was blackmailing me to keep silent. I had pleaded with my mother not to send me back there next week. But she still didn't want to leave me alone in the house, at least not yet. She agreed that next week would be the last, on the condition that I agreed to stay out of trouble and to help out with chores around the house in the meantime. In the meantime, Uncle Roger had given me four pieces of "homework" to do: - Practise walking and sitting like a girl - Practise putting on lipstick and eyeliner - Fully shave my face and body in preparation for my next visit - Think of a girl's name for myself The way I saw it, I had two options. I could either tell my mother about everything Roger had done, and hope she would believe me. Or I could just go along with these tasks, in the hope of making my final visit as painless as possible. The first option was risky... what if she thought I was lying? She had made it quite clear that she didn't trust me. She had already confiscated my computer and my stereo, and grounded me until further notice, so I really didn't want to get into more trouble or annoy her further. And of course, Uncle Roger had me over a barrel - if I told Mum what he did, he would deny it, and tell her that I had been snooping around his daughter's old clothes. It was blatant blackmail, but it would be his word against mine. Plan B was the only viable option. I would carry out his twisted "homework" assignments, but make sure that next week's visit would be the last. Practising walking in a more feminine manner was not too difficult, and I had plenty of time to do that in the privacy of my own room. It was mainly just a matter of concentration, ensuring that my legs stayed close together, putting one foot more or less in front of the last. I found that when I did that, my steps became lighter and more gentle, and that the motion caused my hips to naturally sway. When sitting down, I practised keeping my knees together, back straight, shoulders high, and arms neatly by my side or on my lap. I had to focus to prevent myself from slouching, or stretching out my legs. The makeup, on the other hand, was a more complex process altogether. Roger had given me ten pounds to buy a lipstick and some eyeliner, but I truly could not bring myself to go into a shop and buy them. I couldn't handle the embarrassment - and what if somebody recognised me? I knew that my sister had some old lipsticks in her room, and possibly eyeliner too. She probably wouldn't even notice if they went missing, and besides, she wasn't planning on returning from university for at least three or four weeks. I just had to pick a good time to go into her room for a look around. I decided that I should do it while my Mother was preparing dinner. I simply could not afford to get caught, so I made sure that she had started cooking, before quietly walking upstairs and towards my sister's bedroom. Every floorboard seemed to creak and moan, even the door handle seemed to squeak as I turned it and slowly opened the door. I went over to her dressing table as quietly as I could, and opened her makeup drawer. There were a couple of old lipsticks (which I had tried using before) but no eyeliner. I rummaged around a little, but unable to find what I needed, I decided to forget about it. But just as I was heading towards the door, the handle started to turn from the other side. "What is going on," my Mother shouted. "I specifically told you that you were not to enter another bedroom without permission." "I... I'm sorry Mum," I stammered. "I just needed a pencil for my Maths homework." "A pencil? Why didn't you ask me for one? Why was the door shut?" "I don't know" "You don't know. What a surprise," she said sarcastically. "And where is this pencil?" "I couldn't find one." "Right. Did you find anything else I'm there?" "What do you mean?" "Oh, come on. It's a bit late to play the innocent. I would like you to empty your pockets." She really didn't trust me! I was so, so relieved that I had not taken any makeup, as I emptied my pockets, revealing some coins, half a packet of chewing gum, and my class timetable. But nevertheless, this was not a lucky escape - my Mother was still furious with me for going into Nicole's room, and she certainly didn't believe my excuse. I didn't say a single word during dinner, I finished as soon as I could, and returned to my bedroom. I still had to get the makeup, so the following day, I went home via the local chemists shop. I didn't really know what I was looking for, my main requirement was to get in and out with as little embarrassment as possible. I walked round the shop a couple of times, pretending to look at other things. Eventually I grabbed what was more-or-less the first lipstick on the rack, and a black eyeliner pencil. I took them to the checkout, along with a packet of cough sweets (for some strange reason which still escapes me). "Present for your mother, dear?" "Oh... no... er... my sister, actually," I blurted out. She seemed to swallow my impromptu response, and I left the shop with a tremendous sense of relief, practically running the rest of the way home. I practised my makeup every night in the bathroom - not just because I was scared of Roger, but also because I enjoyed it. I was already OK at applying the lipstick, but over the next few days I got neater and quicker. The shade of red I had randomly picked was strong, and to my teenage eyes, very sexy and feminine. After a few days, I could even apply it without a mirror. The eyeliner was much more difficult though, and the first time I tried using it, I must have poked myself in the eye at least three times. But it was easier if I rested my elbow on a surface, and I found that by going round my eyes several times, I could create something similar to the dark, striking, kohl-rimmed look that I had seen on many women. I became more and more anxious as the week went on. I just wanted to get this over and done with, and for things to get back to normal. I knew that Roger would have another degrading afternoon in store for me, but I just wanted to get through it. I continued to practise walking, and putting on the makeup, and soon enough, the day of the second visit came round. I got up early to make sure I shaved properly. I was not hairy - some would say underdeveloped for my age, so there wasn't much hair to deal with. On my face I only had to shave my upper lip. There was very little hair on my chest or underarms, although my legs did take a little longer. Shaving the backs of my thighs was particularly difficult, as I had to twist my body to see them in the mirror. The whole process was so time consuming, that my Mother knocked on the door twice, warning me that I'd be late for school! I got ready for school as quickly as I could, hastily throwing my lipstick and eyeliner into my school bag, and running out of the door. My thoughts for the whole day were occupied by my visit to Roger. I was scared about what he might do to me - he had spanked me last week, and had even threatened to use his belt or cane on my bare bottom! I was determined not to give him a reason to do that. But I was also scared that he might try to get more intimate... I remembered clearly that after my spanking, he had touched my bottom through the silky panties. I had felt violated and powerless. How would I react if he did that again? And how could I prevent the situation? These thougts were still racing through my mind as I rang Uncle Rogers doorbell later that afternoon. ----------------- "Hello Jamie. Go straight upstairs and get changed," he said after letting me in. "You know where to go. I don't want to see you in your boy's clothes." "Yes sir," I replied obediently. "Good. I hope you did your homework. Oh, and there are a couple of surprises up there for you. I'm sure you know what to do with them." I went upstairs, into the now familiar bedroom. The same school uniform I had worn last time was laid out on the bed, as well as the same ivory bra and panties. But that wasn't all - there was also a matching suspender belt, and a pair of tan colour stockings, still in the packet. I had never worn suspenders before, but had wanted to try them for a long time. While I hated what Roger was doing, I had to admit to myself that I REALLY wanted to put this lingerie on! I undressed, folding my clothes neatly, then put on the bra and panties. I picked up the suspender belt, fastened it around my waist, and then took the stockings out of the packet, spending a while feeling the soft, smooth, silky fabric. I rolled up the first stocking and slid it up onto my smooth leg, before attaching the suspender straps to the top of it. I repeated the process for the second stocking, and admired myself in the mirror. The stockings felt sensuous, and looked sexy, seductive, and elegant with the suspenders. But any enjoyment soon vanished, and I felt disgusted with myself when I remembered the man downstairs, waiting to humiliate and degrade me. But maybe if I didn't give him reason to get angry with me, this visit would pass relatively smoothly. I decided to do my hair and makeup before putting the other clothes on. Uncle Roger had left some hair ribbons on the dressing table - not just the white ones from last week, but also pink and light blue ribbons. I brushed my hair thoroughly, and put it into two bunches at the back, just how Roger had done last week. I picked up the blue ribbons, tying a bow around each bunch. The same powder compact and lipstick that I had used last week were on the dressing table, as well as some blusher. I powdered my face, and then decided to use my own red lipstick on my lips - I had got used to using it, and knew that it looked good. When it came to putting on the eyeliner, I rested my right elbow on the table, the way I had practised throughout the week, and slowly traced round the edge of each eye. I repeated the process several times, creating dark, well defined lines. I had never used blusher before, and wasn't sure what to do with it - but the fact that it was here meant that Uncle Roger probably wanted me to use it. So I just used a small amount on each cheekbone, applying with the large brush. I looked at myself in the mirror - the results were really not bad. I needed some more practise with the eyeliner, as it looked a little messy close up, but overall not bad at all. I pulled on the school uniform - the grey pleated skirt, the tight fitting white blouse, and the cardigan. But I then noticed something else at the foot of the bed. A pair of black court shoes with a small heel. Size 7 - my size. Roger must have checked my shoe size while I was here last week. They easily slipped onto my stocking clad feet, but walking was difficult at first. I was determined that my hard work wouldn't be wasted, so I spent a couple of minutes practising my best 'girly walk' in the shoes. Luckily the heel was not too high, so I managed to adapt without too much trouble. I left the bedroom and walked downstairs, desperately hoping that he'd be satisfied, and let me get on with my homework in peace. I knocked on the door of his study, and he told me to enter. "Ah, good girl," he exclaimed. "You found the shoes."I was actually hoping you'd pick the pink ribbons for your hair, but those look nice too. Let me take a look at your face," he said, lifting my chin with two fingers. "Your eyes look good, my dear. Needs to be a bit neater, but I like what you've done. You've done well with the lipstick too, but the colour... don't you think that bright red lipstick is a bit slutty?" "I just picked it at random, sir. I didn't know which colour to pick." "Really? Are you sure it's random? Are you sure you didn't pick it because you thought it was... sexy?" "No sir, it really was random!" "Well, you had a free choice and you picked that one... people will draw conclusions from these things. A girl has to think carefully about how she presents herself." "Yes sir." "Overall I am pleased with your efforts, and the blusher was a nice touch too. Now, I would like you to walk to the other side of the room, turn round, walk back, and sit down on the chair. I want to see you moving in a gentle, elegant and feminine way." I did as instructed, walking as carefully as I could, keeping my back upright and my head held high, keeping my legs close together so that my thighs gently touched with each step. When I turned round, the skirt swished pleasingly, and I returned to my starting point, slowly sitting down with my knees together and my hands together in my lap. "Good. Good girl. You have been doing your homework. How did you find the shoes? Can you balance OK" "I had to practise for a few minutes, sir" I explained. "But they're OK. Not too high." "Good, I'm glad. Probably best to start with a small heel and work your way up. I'm glad you've been taking your homework seriously. Something tells me that you might have rather enjoyed these little tasks." "No, I just didn't want to get into trouble. I didn't want you to be angry, so I tried my hardest." "Well that is commendable, young lady. But it's really OK to admit you enjoy something, even if a teacher or a parent - or even me - has told you to do it." "No sir, honestly..." "That's quite enough of that. Tell me what your other tasks were." "To shave, and... to think of a girl's name." I hadn't chosen a name yet, so would have to think of one on the spot. "That's right, my dear. And what name did you choose for yourself?" "Well, I thought that..." I paused, embarrassed and unsure what to say. "I thought maybe Jessica would be OK." "Jessica! What a pretty name. So now we have a name for... a name that you like, and chose for yourself." "I... I was only doing what you asked!" I protested. "I don't really want to be called Jessica!" "I don't want to hear any more of that, you understand me, young lady!" he barked angrily. "I wasn't asking you a question, so do not answer back! Besides, your denial is dishonest and irritating." "Sorry sir." "I don't want you to be sorry Jessica, I just want you to start behaving like a good girl." "Yes sir, I will." "Yes. I know you will. Now... your final task. Stand up, please." I stood up slowly, taking care to move gently and to keep my legs together. Uncle Roger moved in front of me so we were face to face, and slowly reached down to my skirt. He gradually started to lift it, but I instinctively put my hands down to prevent him from doing so. He grabbed my wrist and pulled it away, holding it tightly. "I thought you were going to be a good girl? I thought you said that you didn't want to make me angry. Unless you actually want another spanking? Or perhaps the cane?" "No sir, please... I don't want the cane. Please don't hurt me." "Very well, Jessica. Then stay still." Again, he brought his hand down to my skirt, and started to lift it. With his other hand he started to feel my thighs, running his fingers beneath the suspender straps, and under the tops of the stockings. He then slowly traced around the edge of my panties with one of his fingers. All the time I was standing frozen to the spot. I felt furious with myself for letting him touch me like this, but I didn't know what else to do. I was powerless, and had been profoundly humiliated. "Your thighs are lovely and smooth, Jessie. And these suspenders look fantastic on you. You can keep the stockings and the lingerie - I bought them for you, after all." "Thank you, sir." "You're welcome. I'm glad you like them. Maybe not a good idea to take them home just yet though, we don't want anyone finding out about our little secret. I think we can both agree that it's best your mother doesn't find out what you'be been doing." "Yes, of course, sir." "The shoes are for you as well. And we'll get you some higher heels after you've got used to walking in these." "That's very kind of you," I said. I was not anticipating any further visits, if all went to plan it should be all over by the end of today. But best to play along for now. "Let's just finish checking you over," he said, opening a couple of buttons on my shirt, so he could see that my chest was smooth. The top of my bra was also now clearly visible. "Good. I really am very pleased with you, young lady. I'm glad you are choosing to be compliant - it makes things much more pleasant for both of us." "Thank you sir," I said, as I moved to fasten the buttons. "No, no. Leave it as it is. You can remove the cardigan too, if you like." "That's OK sir, I'm not warm." "I recommend you do as I suggest." "Yes sir," I said, removing the cardigan. "Good. Now you have some homework, I believe? You can do it in the dining room." I walked carefully into the dining room, trying my best to remain composed and graceful. I took my school bag into the dining room, and sat down at the table with my knees together. My hands were shaking as I started to write, scared, nervous, and angry all at the same time. I thought I'd be able to emotionally detatch myself this time, but I was wrong. But I was also feeling deeply conflicted. I hated having to be the compliant 'good girl' that he wanted me to be, and I hated the way he touched me. But I did like wearing the clothes, and I liked my reflection in the mirror. I looked better than I ever had as a boy, and the lingerie he had bought for me was more sexy than anything I'd found in my mother's underwear drawer. I tried my best to concentrate on my homework, but it was tough. "Good news," Uncle Roger called, emerging from his study some time later. "Your mother is going to be stuck at work until 9pm. So we have some time together. I thought perhaps that you could make us some dinner." "Dinner?" "Yes, Jessica, dinner. I would like you to cook." "I'm not great at cooking, sir." "Well, you'd better learn. A girl needs to know how to cook! I don't expect anything fancy. There is some steak in the fridge, see what you can rustle up." "Yes sir, I will try my best." "Oh - there is a bottle of red wine in the kitchen. Open it, and bring me a glass in my study." "Yes sir, right away" "There's a good girl." I went into the kitchen and had a look around. I saw the bottle of wine, and tried to find a corkscrew and a wine glass. Uncle Roger was clearly of the generation who believed that cooking was women's work. And he was certainly making it clear that he viewed me as a girl, and as a subordinate. I brought him his wine, and - following a pat on the bottom - returned to the kitchen to prepare the meal. Steak with salad and fried potatoes was about the best I could manage. I cleared my homework from the dining table, and laid the table for dinner. I took the open bottle of wine into the dining room, just as Uncle Roger was coming in to check on me. "Good idea, Jessica. Why not get a glass for yourself, too. I won't tell if you don't! There are some candles in the cupboard too... be a darling put some on the table." I put the extra glass and the candles on the table. Roger lit the candles, while I finished off the dinner and dished it up. "You'll be getting a cook book this Christmas," he said as I put the food on the table. This steak looks incinerated!" He cut into the steak and took a mouthful. "Well, you didn't completely ruin it, I suppose. But I know you tried." "Thanks," I replied, not sure if he had detected my sarcasm. "Pour me some wine. And some for yourself. Do you drink wine, Jess?" "Sometimes, sir" I said as I poured. "My parents let me drink a glass or two sometimes." "Is your mother still mad at you?" "A bit. But I've been trying to get back in her good books. Helping out with chores, things like that." "Did you tell her why you'd taken the clothes? Did you admit that you like dressing as a girl?" "No, sir. I... I can't." "Well, perhaps you can tell me about it, then. Why do you do it? You must realise how good you look as a girl." "I don't know. I've been doing it for a while, but I don't really know why I do it." "You like the way the clothes feel? And the way they look?" "Yes sir, I do." "And how do you feel when you put on women's clothes? Nice? Feminine" "Yes, I suppose so." "Sexy?" he asked as he finished his glass of wine. "Does it turn you on?" "No. I don't know. Maybe a bit, sometimes." "It's not an easy thing to come to terms with at your age. But believe me, as time goes by, Jessica will become a bigger and bigger part of your life. She won't go away, ever. Pour me some more wine." "Yes sir." "Denying this side of you is pointless. The sooner you come to terms with Jessica and allow her to flourish, the happier you will be." I cleared up after dinner, making sure that the dishes were washed and dried thoroughly. I didn't want to give him a reason to be angry with me. I found Uncle Roger in the lounge, watching the television. "Ah, there you are. There's a bit of wine left, Jessica. Pour yourself another glass after all your hard work. And get me a glass of whisky. Then come and sit next to me." I found his drinks cabinet, and poured him a glass of scotch. I poured the remainder if the wine into my glass, and returned to join Roger in the lounge - all the time trying to stay graceful and feminine. I sat next to him, taking care to keep my knees together. "Tell me, honestly. Do you like girls?" he asked. "Yes sir, of course I like girls." "But do you fancy girls? I know you've never had a girlfriend. Or do you like men?" "I'm not gay! That's not it at all!" "OK. So you like girls then? I believe you. I'm interested to hear what kind of girls you like. Have a look at these pictures." He picked up a small folder, inside were photos of women, cut out from newspapers and magazines. I took a large gulp of wine, and took the folder. Pictures of young, fashionable girls. A young woman in a business suit. A hippy girl in a long skirt with flowing hair. A beautiful woman in a cocktail dress, from what looked like a perfume advert. And then a picture of a rock chick in a short skirt, fishnets, and black boots. "So, you like that one, Jessica? That's the sort of girl you'd go for?" "Well, I like listening to metal, sir" I explained. "And she looks like she does too. Or at least she looks interesting and a bit different." "Ah, heavy metal. I see. You like her clothes, Jessie? You like the way she is dressed?" "Yes sir, I think she looks very attractive in those clothes." "I know what you mean, Jess" Roger replied thoughtfully. "But do you think girls like that like boys who dress up and a bra and panties? Well?" "I don't know.... I..." "Well, I do know! Girls like that like real men." "I don't know. I just liked the picture" I said, visibly upset at what he was saying to me. "OK. I know you're a little bit confused. I know you're going through a tough period right now. Be a good girl and open that cupboard over there. There's a little box inside. Bring it over here." I fetched the tin and brought it over. Uncle Roger opened it, and I saw it contained a bag of something, a cigarette lighter, and some cigarette papers - he was going to smoke a joint! There were a couple of ready rolled joints in there too, and he took one out, put it in his mouth, and lit it, inhaling steadily. "Have you smoked weed before, Jess?" he asked me, sitting back and exhaling, releasing a cloud of smoke into the room. "No sir. I know some of guys at school smoke it, but I've never tried." "I bet your surprised to see me smoking a joint. But back when I was teaching, it was the only way I could unwind after a bad day. Here, take a drag, Jessie." I looked at him, unsure what to do. He reached towards me, turned the joint round in his fingers, and held it to my lips. I opened my mouth, put my lips around the end, and took a breath. I instantly recoiled and coughed, as Uncle Roger laughed. "Haha, I guess good girls like you aren't used to smoking! Are you OK?" "Yes sir, I'm fine." "Here, try again," he said, as he put it into my mouth again. I sucked nice and gently for a couple of seconds, before releasing it from my lips, my red lipstick leaving its mark behind. I already felt light headed from the two glasses of wine, and as Roger gently pushed the joint between my lips for the third time, I was really feeling quite dizzy. "How are you feeling, Jessica?" Roger asked, taking a drag himself. "OK? Dizzy?" "A bit dizzy, sir. But pretty good." "Here, have just a little more, sweetheart." Again, he gently pushed the joint into my mouth with one hand, and I took a deep breath of the intoxicating smoke. He gently stroked my cheek with his left hand. He took the joint out of my mouth, and put his right hand on my knee, stroking gently. "Sir... please... what are you doing?" "Shhh, it's OK Jessica. Relax your body. Go with the flow." His hand was up my skirt, toying with the tops of my stockings. "You're a very attractive girl. And very, very sexy. Keep that thought in your head, my girl." He leaned forward to kiss me. I pulled away from him, but he grabbed my arms firmly, pinning them by my sides. He moved in again, pressing his lips against mine. His tongue invaded my mouth, bringing with it grown-up and masculine tastes of alcohol and smoke. He put his arms around me, pulling me tightly towards him, my small weak body trapped inescapably in his strong grip, his mouth clamped to mine. My tense body slowly started to relax, as I mentally surrendered to him. He moved a hand back down to my thigh, as I slowly brought my arms around his neck, and I eventually reciprocated his kiss, meeting his tongue with my own. He finally relaxed his grip on me, pulling his face away. His lips had turned red from my lipstick, and we were both breathing heavily. My heart was beating faster than ever before. The mixture of alcohol, weed, and this bizarre, surreal situation was a heady mix, and my head was spinning. I knew we shouldn't be doing this. I knew it was deeply wrong. But I felt powerless. I was not in control. "You know what I want, Jessica. You want to be a good girl, don't you? You want to make me happy?" "Sir, I'm not sure." "It's OK. It's perfectly natural. All the young girls are doing it. I'm the man, and you're the girl. A pretty, sexy young girl. Just relax Jess, it will come naturally." "Sir, I..." "Get on your knees like a good girl. Kneel in front of me," he told me, pushing me towards the ground. "You'll make me angry if I have to ask again." I knelt on the floor, and he perched on the edge of the sofa. He undid his belt and lowered his trousers and underpants. He put both of his hands behind my head, and pulled me towards him. "Kiss it," he told me. "Kiss my cock, you little slut." I leaned towards him and kissed the tip of his penis gently. "Good. good girl. Again. Lick it. Lick the whole length of it." Shaking, terrified, I extended my tongue, and licked his shaft from the base to the tip. Uncle Roger leaned forwards and unbuttoned my blouse completely, pushing it over my shoulders. I could hardly believe what was happening. My head was spinning, I felt disoriented and extremely confused - this was certainly not how I'd imagined my first blow job! Roger's penis was now rock hard, and he grabbed my head with both hands and pushed his cock firmly into my mouth. I didn't know what to do, I just froze. "Grab my cock with your hand, girl. Grab my cock and rub it up and down. Use your tongue. Lick me. Suck me, you bitch." I took his penis in my hand, rubbing firmly, all the time licking and sucking his hard cock. He pulled me closer still, pushing himself into my throat and causing me to choke. He released me for a couple of seconds while I caught my breath, only to push his swollen dick back into my mouth once more. "Keep on, darling. Keep on Jessie. Keep sucking me, girl. Make me cum. Make sure you swallow every drop of it. That's it. Good girl." He pulled my head further towards himself, his pubic hair now filling my nostrils. He started to thrust himself rythmically into my mouth, grabbing my head tighter every time. He began to moan, and I felt his body tense. A hot stream of viscous liquid entered my mouth, as he held my head firmly in place. I tried to swallow, but immediately gagged, and had no choice but to run to the toilet. I crouched, vomiting for several minutes. Deeply ashamed, humiliated, powerless and emasculated. I took a couple of minutes to compose myself, then started walking towards the stairs. But Roger heard me, and called me back into the lounge. Reluctantly, I walked back in there, head hung in shame. He had put his trousers back on, but was holding his belt in one hand. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards him. "What was that?" "Sir, it wasn't my fault" "Whose was it then? Mine?" "No sir" "I specifically told you to swallow. You've deeply insulted me, Jessica," he said, has he pushed towards the sofa and bent me over the arm. "You will learn to do as you're told." He lifted my skirt, and pulled down my panties down to where the stockings joined the suspender straps. He lifted the belt and brought it down onto my bare bottom, the belt making an evil swishing sound as it cut through the air. I screamed as the pain shot through me. A pause, then another blow, and another, each one stinging more than the last, tears flowing down my cheek. He dropped the belt, then started spanking me with his hand. Eventually he stopped and stood back, leaving me a sobbing mess on the flooor. "You're lucky you only got three. It's for your own good, you have to learn. I don't want to have to use the belt again, young lady. If you're a good girl and do what you're told, then I needn't do that again." "Yes sir," I said, still sobbing. "Now now, Stop crying" he said, as he crouched down and wiped my tears. "I'm sure you will do better next time." "Sir, please... there can't be a next time. I shouldn't have done that," I insisted, pulling up my knickers and composing myself. "But you did, Jessica. I didn't force you to kiss me. I didn't force you to suck my cock. I might have encouraged you... but you wanted it. You wouldn't have done it otherwise". "No, I didn't want to do it." "It wasn't just me kissing you. You kissed me back, you put your arms round me." "It was wrong of me, sir." "No, it wasn't. It came naturally to you. It's your natural role, Jessica - to be the girl. Don't you understand?" "It doesn't feel natural, it feels wrong." "You have a lot to think about, my girl. You have to go and get changed soon, your mother will be here before too long. I have something for you, before you leave." He disappeared for a few seconds, and came back with two things. A makeup set, in a pink box, and a book on makeup. "Read the book thoroughly, and practise whenever you can. Find a look in the book that you like, and work hard at it. But remember, keep this a secret. Put them in your bag and when you get home, find a safe hiding place. Don't let your parents find out." "Yes sir. Thank you." "And remember to keep up your other homework tasks too. Keep practising your walking and deportment. Keep yourself shaved." "Yes sir." "OK, good girl. Go upstairs" I remembered to concentrate on my walk as I went up the stairs and into the bathroom to remove my makeup. It was over - I had got through the evening, but Uncle Roger had taken my dignity and my innocence. I was going to leave this house a different person. ----------------- My mother came to pick me up, and I sat in the car quietly. I still felt sick, and my bottom was still stinging. "You smell of smoke!" "Oh..." "Is Roger smoking in the house again? He really shouldn't do that around you. It's a bad influence. Oh, by the way, I don't have to work next Wednesday Jamie, so you don't have to go to Uncle Roger's after school". "Ah, OK. But I thought you said that today would be the last time, anyway." "That was before you broke the rules and went into Nicole's room. I can't leave you alone for a whole weekend by yourself". "But I told you... I was just looking for a..." "A pencil. Yes, I heard you. But you broke the rules, you've not proved you can be trusted! The weekend after next, your father and I are going to a wedding in Scotland. Uncle Roger has agreed to look after you for the weekend." I lay awake in bed all night, reading the makeup book with a torch under the duvet. I remember how Roger had kissed me, taking me in his arms. I remembered putting on the beautiful lingerie and the stockings. I didn't know who I was any more.