Weekend Sissy Little Girl free porn video

Weekend Sissy Little Girl by SusieQ I looked at my reflection in the hallway mirror. My make up was immaculate, the pink glossy lipstick matched the subtle eyeshadow and the delicate rose blusher, a shade or two darker, flushed my cheeks, highlighting my ultra girly look. Of course the short blond bob wig with its floppy fringe and a white ribbon tied into a bow on top of my head helped. The short pale blue cotton dress I was wearing had a white Peter Pan collar and a fitted bodice with an applique embroidered on the front of a little girl watering flowers with a can. It fastened with small white buttons up the back. The skirt flared out from the waist and its short puffy sleeves ended in a white cuff. Two long blue sashes attached to the sides, tied behind in a big bow. Beneath the dress, a very full white organza petticoat held the dress out, and beneath the petticoat, were snug white cotton knickers edged with delicate lace around the waistband and tight elasticated legs. My bare hairless legs went all the way down to the frilly white ankle socks which in turn were encased in a pair of shiny black patent Mary Jane shoes. Now this would have been fine if I had been a six year old little girl, but I was in fact a fully grown six foot two inch tall thirteen stone man, and I was about to get into a car driven by my wife Sarah, and taken to a garden centre to buy a couple of hanging baskets on this fine early May morning. It wasn't my idea of course, I had no say in the matter. Sarah decides these sort of things and I do as I am told or else! Sarah, appeared behind me and looked at my outfit with approval. "Right Susie" she said "let's get going." I turned to her and said, "Please Mummy, don't make me go out like this again, I'll be a good girl and do anything you say, but please, please let me stay here." "Nonsense," she replied, "a little fresh air will do us both good, so out to the car now young lady, unless you want to go with a sore bottom inside your knickers." I knew better than to argue. Sarah, was a hard lady to say no to, and I was a pathetic sissy who did what I was told, even if it meant being humiliated in public. I opened the front door and peeped out to check if the neighbours could see me, and, seeing the coast was clear, I scurried to the car and quickly got in the back seat. Sarah locked the house and climbed behind the wheel, then set off. She was a good driver, and always stuck to the speed limit, which was just as well because one of my nightmares was of having an accident or being stopped by the police with me in the back seat dressed like a sissy little girl. The centre we were going to was on the outskirts of the next town and didn't open till ten thirty on a Sunday, so thankfully the roads were fairly quiet as we drove the fifteen mile journey in about twentyfive minutes. When we arrived, there was only one other early bird in the car park and we parked up on the opposite side to where he was. Sarah got out and opened my door, indicating me to get out also. "Please mummy, let me stay in the car," I said. Her face hardened, "If you're not out in three seconds, you know what will happen don't you? ... One... Two..." I was out before she got to "...three" feeling extremely vulnerable dressed as I was. "Now come on, let's get going." I followed sheepishly as we entered the covered reception area that was festooned with exotic palms and went through to the outside section where the hardy plants were. The only other customers were a middle aged couple looking at flowering shrubs at the top of the garden, while we went to inspect the hanging baskets. As we browsed, the distance between them and us narrowed until it was only a matter of time before they turned and saw us. It was the woman who spotted me first, and she gave an embarrassed giggle and nudged her husband to look. He looked totally bemused and exclaimed, "What the F***!" Sarah smiled sweetly and bid them, "Good morning," then continued her search for her baskets. I studiously ignored them and, head down, followed Sarah closely. I could hear the man mumbling about sissy poofters and his wife was now convulsed in laughter. My face burned with embarrassment and I hid it behind the baskets we were inspecting. Finally, Sarah made her choice and told me to fetch a trolley to transport them to the pay desk. The trolleys were racked up near the entrance where we came in and I had to walk past the laughing couple to get to them. As I got my trolley, the woman said to her husband, "Don't just stand there, give the little girl a hand." He grabbed the trolley from me and said, "That's a big trolley for such a little girl, here, let me help you," and smirking, he pushed the trolley over to where Sarah was waiting. She was highly amused at my obvious embarrassment and thanked the man profusely before telling me to, "Thank the nice gentleman Susie." "Thank you Sir," I croaked, barely able to get my words out in a hoarse whisper. This produced even greater hilarity for the couple, who by now had tears in their eyes through laughter. We placed our baskets in the trolley and walked past the helpless couple and up to the checkout. A young girl about eighteen was at the checkout and had witnessed the scene in the garden and she too was laughing. I stood there stewing in my own desolate humiliation while Sarah paid for the baskets and, as we turned to walk out into the car park, the girl said, "Thank you madam, please visit us again," then turning her attention to me said, "That's such a pretty dress you're wearing, I had one just like it.....when I was five," and burst into gales of laughter. Another two cars were just pulling into the car park and one hooted his horn at me while the other almost did an emergency stop to get a better view. We loaded the baskets into the boot, Sarah taking her time to ensure they would not topple over on the return journey, then instructed me to return the trolley. I pushed it back to the entrance enduring the cat calls and laughter of the assembled witnesses before scurrying shamefaced back to the car. She opened the central locking and allowed me to get into the back seat and cower down to hide my shame. "Sarah, get me out of here NOW!" I shouted, and immediately bit my tongue. "Who do you think you're talking to young lady," she scolded. "If you speak to me like that again you'll be walking home my girl, do you understand?" "I'm very sorry mummy," I whimpered. "You will be when I get you home my girl, it's an appointment with Harriet Hairbrush for you." She started the car and headed out of the car park. My misery now compounded by the knowledge that I would soon be struggling over Sarah's knee, my knickers around my ankles whilst my bare bottom was being roasted by her dreaded hairbrush. All this before lunch, which I would be preparing with my scarlet bottom throbbing inside my knickers. When we arrived home, I was mortified to see our next door neighbour Mr. Evans was out mowing his lawn. There was no way I could get from the car to our front door without being in clear view to him. I hesitated to get out waiting until he reached the end of his run, hoping to be able to dash in while he performed his "U" turn. I took my chance and made a run for it, but I knew deep down that he would spot me. I knew that he had seen me before when Sarah had made me go out into the back garden. At least it was only a fleeting glimpse of my back I consoled myself. Sarah watched with amusement at my attempts at evasion and then without saying a word motioned to me to go upstairs to my girls room. In the room was a straight backed wooden chair which was mounted on a low wooden dais beside a floor length mirror. It was painted white to match the other furniture in the room. The dais raised it up about nine inches so as to compensate for my height. I went up and waited beside the chair. Sarah followed holding "Harriet." The name was her idea of a little joke and she would sometimes mention, "an appointment with Harriet" whilst we were out in company. She first went over to the the window and opened it wide so that anyone outside would be able to hear my spanking loud and clear. As she returned, the sound of the lawn mower stopped and I realised that Mr. Evans had sussed out what was happening and was going to listen to the entertainment. Sarah sat on the chair with her feet supported by the platform and patted her knee in invitation to me to drape myself over it. Because of the increased height, my toes were just off the ground and I had to grip the bottom rung of the chair to prevent myself from sliding forwards, my face about six inches from the mirror. Sarah lifted my dress and petticoat up and piled them up on my back. I felt her fingers in the waistband of my knickers as she slowly and deliberately eased them down until they were clinging just above my knees in abject surrender. She always started with crisp spanks, top, side, middle, bottom, at random, until she had an even blush across the whole target area. After about a minute, which was roughly forty spanks, I was already tearful and making little whimpering noises, my legs waving as my bottom heated up under her relentless onslaught. After this general warm up, she went to phase two of my spanking which involved three spanks all on the same spot, then on to the other cheek, methodically covering the entire area of my bottom, Smack! Smack! Smack! each one increasing the intensity of the particular spot she selected. This concentrated assault on my poor bottom brought fresh squeals and earnest promises to "be a good girl" if she would only "PLEASE STOP." A further four minutes of this treatment followed and very quickly I was bawling like a little girl, pleading with Sarah to stop until I could not get the words out for crying. My legs kicking and scissoring, my knickers descending to my ankles eventually clinging to just one leg, waving about like a white flag of surrender, my bottom clenching and flinching to try and lessen the excruciating sting. Throughout my spanking, I was forced to watch myself in the mirror as I turned into a pitiful, blubbering wreck, my mascara streaking my face as the tears poured from my eyes. The thought of old Evans, listening to my pathetic performance just increased my utter humiliation. Eventually she stopped and brusquely ordered me off her lap. She left me doing an energetic dance round my room, franticly trying to rub some of the sting out off my flaming bottom, while she went downstairs. After about five minutes my crying stopped to be replaced by big heartfelt sobs as I eased my knickers back on over my poor tormented bottom and started to clean my face because my day was not yet over. Twenty minutes later I was back downstairs, my make up freshly reapplied and with no sign of my ordeal except for the redness which still coloured my eyes. I went to the kitchen to prepare our lunch and when I went into the dining room to set the table it was as if nothing had happened. Sarah smiled sweetly at me and said, "After lunch you can help me to hang our new baskets on the patio." I summoned a smile and said, "Oh! that would be lovely Mummy," and carried on with my work. We had an egg mayonnaise salad and Sarah had a glass of white wine while I had a glass of milk. After lunch I washed the dishes and made coffee for Sarah then she fetched the two baskets in from the car and we went out to hang them. Sarah held the steps steady while I went up them and hung them from the brackets that I had erected a couple of years earlier. I was acutely aware that Sarah could see up my dress as I reached up and my knickers were on plain view to her and I felt a pang of embarrassment which was quite irrational considering our situation. For the remainder of the afternoon and early evening, Sarah watched television whilst I continued with my chores. When I had completed them to her satisfaction, I was allowed to go and watch television with her until my bedtime. We watched "The Antiques Road Show," where people bring their possessions to be valued by the resident team of experts. Some go away disappointed having been told their prized heirloom is a fake whilst others are shocked to discover they have been sitting on a valuable treasure that would fetch thousands. As the closing credits rolled across the screen, Sarah said it was time I was in bed. It was only eight o'clock, but I daren't argue and kissed Sarah on the cheek and said, "Night-night mummy." "Nighty-night sweetheart," she replied. "I'll be up soon to tuck you in and turn the light off." I went upstairs to my "girl room" as it was called, where I slept every weekend while I was Susie. It wasdecorated in soft pink shades. The curtains had pictures of storybook girls on them. There was Cinderella in her ball gown, Snow White, patting the head of a besotted dwarf, Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet, and Alicechasing a white rabbit. There was a full length fitted wardrobe which contained several pretty girlie dresses in pink, lemon, white, pale blue and a couple of flowery ones. They were made from Satin, Taffeta and Organza. They all had varying degrees of lace, ruffles and bows that all proclaimed their owner to be a sissy of the highest order. The dress I had worn today was in fact the plainest one I owned, and Sarah had only allowed me to wear it because she thought I might get it dirty at a garden centre and it was easily washable. There were petticoats and slips, and two school uniforms, one, a navy blue gymslip and blazer that was worn with a felt bowler style hat, and one with a short box pleated grey skirt that was worn with a maroon blazer, a pale blue blouse, and a strawboater. There were also two very sissy coats for cooler weather, one in off white and one in pale pink. Both were tailored to flare out from the waist and were trimmed with matching fake fur. On the floor was a rack that displayed several pairs of mary jane shoes, adult size ten in various colours. There was even a pair of pink wellingtons with a care bear face on the side. Where she obtained them from in my size I never found out. Achest of drawers painted white contained all my girlie underwear. There were frilly panties to match each of my dresses in satin, nylon and cotton. There were navy blue, maroon and white school knickers all with complimentary ties, socks and vests. There were sissy shorts and blouses, and a flowery swimming costume with an attached pleated skirt. Nighties and pyjamas, all in the most girlie style you can imagine. This wardrobe of clothes had been collected over the past year or so, since Sarah had taken an active interest in my cross dressing, and was everything a little girl could wish for. However I didn't have time to reflect on my situation, Sarah would be up shortly to put me down for the night. I quickly took off my dress, petticoat, shoes, knickers, and socks. I knew better than to not be ready when she came back for fear of another dose of her hairbrush across my still inflamed bottom. I quickly put on my pink little girl style baby doll pyjamas with the matching knee length bloomers and hurried to the bathroom to wash my face and clean my teeth. When I'd finished I went to the toilet, sitting to wee as Sarah insisted, then I quickly returned to my bedroom, hung my dress and petticoat in the wardrobe and put my underwear in the wash basket, then jumped into bed to wait my goodnight kiss from Sarah. A few minutes later, I heard her footsteps on thelanding and she came into the room with cup of cocoa that she placed on my bedside table. She bent over me and kissed me gently on the forehead. "I'm sorry I had to spank you so hard Susie, but you must learn never to speakto Mummy like that again, is that clear?" It was a rhetorical question that went unanswered apart from a slightnod of my head. "Nighty- night sweetheart, see you in the morning." Then she was gone. My weekend was nearly over. I sipped my cocoa and reflected on how I had come to find myself in this situation. Tomorrow, I will revert to being Martin, Sarah's husband again and go to work as normal. In the evening I'llcome home and Sarahwill have prepared a dinner for us and after a bottle of wine and an hour or so watching television we will go to bed in our bedroom and make love like any normal married couple. Until the following Friday, when I will become little Susie again having to endure whatever humiliating torment she has dreamt up for me during the week. On the one hand, I dread what is in store for me each weekend, but I am ahopelessly submissive sissy and am drawn to this life like a moth to a flame. I am incapable of standing up to Sarah. Of course it was my own fault. I had been a closet crossdresser since I was a child, sneaking into my mother and my sisters drawers to try on their clothes whenever I had the chance. As I grew up, I had acquired a large amount of my own clothes from the internet, mainly focused on the little girl style that I loved, and continued to dress in secret even after my marriage to Sarah. I know I should have told her before we were married, but I was so in love with her and I couldn't bear the thought that she may finish with me if she knew. Of course the inevitable happened. One weekend when she was supposed to be visiting her sister down south she walked into the house to find me dressed like Little Miss Muffet in a pale blue satin dress complete with petticoats, black patent mary jane shoes, frilly ankle socks and a blond wig plaited into pigtails, each one adornedwith a satin ribbon. It turned out she had slipped on the wet platform as she was boarding her train and was so shook up she had rung her sister to cancel and headed home. She tried to ring me to pick her up from the station, but not wanting to bedisturbed, I had put the phone on silent and turned my mobile off to enjoy my little girl weekend to the full. To say she was shocked has to be the understatement of the century. I honestly thought my marriage was over and I would find myself an outcast amongst my family and our friends. However, after about a week of silence, sheasked me to go into the lounge, "for a chat." I honestly thought my worst fears were about to happen. She firstasked me if I was gay and I assured her that I, like the majority of crossdressers was strictly heterosexual but admitted that I got a sexual buzz from my dressing. She thought for a moment and then she told me she had done some research and had realized that I couldn't change my "condition." She said she still loved me and had decided to accept me for what I was and she would allow me to continue to dress and even join in with my "games" as she called them. She was as good as her word and for a time I was blissfully happy with the situation. So much so that I didn't suspect anything when she suggested taking photos of me in my dresses for our private album. I did notice however, that she had become even more dominant in our relationship. She would dictate how and when we made love, assuming the on top position more often than not, and also having me perform prolonged bouts of oral sex on her as she said it "relaxed" her. Then, at the weekend she would join in and roleplay as my mummy, nanny or teacher, getting into her role with increasingly convincing authority as would befit an adult child relationship. It was Sarah who introduced spanking into our role play. As she pointed out, it is a normal consequence of my role as a little girl that if I don't do what Mummy or Nanny or Teacher says, I would get my bottom smacked. At first the spankings were exciting and made our games very real. But, as time went on, they became more and more severe with the introduction of her dreaded hairbrush bringing me to very real tears. The big change came about ten months ago, when one day she told me that her brother, who is gay, was going through a legal partnership "marriage" ceremony with his long time partner and afterwards, a sympathetic priest was going to perform a blessing of the union at his church. Not only that, his partner who was also a crossdresser, was going to go to the blessing as a bride, wearing a wedding dress and two of his CD friends were also going as bridesmaids. She said another friend was also going as a flower girl but he'd had to cancel because hewas moving abroad for a new job. It was then that she dropped her bombshell. "He seemed very disappointed so I suggested that you would be happy to step into the role." Apparently, he was very surprised because he had no idea I was a crossdresser, but being gay is very non judgmental about such things and happily accepted her offer. "WHAT"? I spluttered. "Why did you say that, there's absolutely NO WAY I'm going to a wedding in public dressed as a flower girl." Her demeanor changed and she told me in no uncertain terms that unless I agreed to do as she said, she would stop my dressing games forthwith and horror of horrors, would send the pictures of me in my sweet outfits to all our family, friends and my work colleagues, including all the members of my cricket club. "You mark my words, I promise you will never be able to show your face in this town again, I have given my word and I won't see my brother let down." From experience, I knew she meant it and at that point my fate was sealed. Although I was the only one who worked, Sarah had a substantial private income from her father, and paid most of the bills. The house we lived inhad been a wedding gift from him, but was only in her name. If I refused, I could find myself not only thelaughing stock of the town but also homeless and jobless as I could never again face my work mates. Her demeanor changed again as she saw me totally defeated and she stroked my face and said, "There, there, it won't be so bad. The wedding is about eighty miles from here and as far as I know we won't know any of the other guests. You'll have a lovely time, we can have a look for a new dress for you tomorrow, won't that be nice." So began my descent into being the totally submissive sissy that I am today. The following morning we sat together at the computer and she chose a white little girl dress from one of the sites selling sissy clothes. Not only a dress, but a new petty slip, white satin panties smothered with lace frills, frilly ankle socks and from other sissy sites a pair of white patent Mary Jane shoes and a new wig. This was the first time she had bought me any sissy clothes, but it was not to be the last. Just over three weeks later the outfit arrived, ten days before the "wedding" and I was instructed to iron the clothes and hang them in my girls room wardrobe because we would be having a dress rehearsal at the weekend. I didn't know exactly what to expect but was told to be up early on the Sunday morning when all would be revealed. The Sunday arrived and I was told to take a bubble bath and to make sure my legs were smooth. Then, wrapped ina big fluffy dressing gown, I was sat down at her vanity table in our bedroom and she proceeded to make me up. She put concealer and a pancake makeup on me and then powder and highlights. She spent ages on my eyes, then she put a lip plumper on which tingled and then pink glossy lipstick followed by blusher and finally she sprayed some perfume behind each ear and on my wrists. She then produced the new wig she had bought. It was a straight, light blond, short bob style and she combed it out and placed it carefully on my head. Finally, a length of white ribbon which went behind my neck and my ears to be tied over the wig in a big floppy bow right on top of my head. She spun me round to face the mirror and I looked to see what she had done. The result stared back at me through the mirror. My face was totally feminized with big soft doe like eyes, pouty shiny lips and blushing cheeks, with the short wig and ribbon making me look like a parody of one of those little girls who compete in those American pageant contests and the thought crossed my mind that my own mother would not have recognized me. "Wonderful," she said admiring her handiwork, "now let's get you dressed." We went through to my girls room and I was divested of the gown and stood naked before her. The strangest feeling came over me. She had of course seen me naked a thousand times before and it was totally natural for us, but stood there with this dolls face on and my smooth shiny legs, a wave of embarrassment swept over me and I cupped my hands over my hairless privates. When she turned around she burst out laughing and held the white frilly panties open for me to step into. "Here little girl, don't be shy, put your panties on." I shamefacedly lifted each foot in turn and she pulled them up snug and high round my waist, the satin feeling smooth and cool, the elasticated legs gripping the tops of my thighs and the lace fluffed out all round. Next came the petticoat, it was pure white organza with a stretch lacy top and spaghetti straps. It stood out like a tutu and barely covered my panties. Sarah then sat me down on the bed and put the white anklets on me with the lace frills round the top, then placed the shoes on my feet and fastened the straps. I stood up and she fetched the dress off its hanger. It was in two parts. The underdress was plain white taffeta, sleeveless with a round neck and a zip up the back. It flared out from the high waist and showed about an inch of the petticoat beneath it. The top dress was of the flimsiest translucent white organza with beautiful lace smocking to the front and rosebuds sewn on the hem. It had a Peter Pan collar and a white ribbon bow at the neck and it fastened behind with four pearly buttons and tied at the back with a huge floppy organza bow. It was high waisted in a little girl style and the short sleeves of opaque organza puffed out and ended in a cuff. It felt divine and made a rustling sound as the taffeta and the organza slid together when I moved. Sarah stood back and admired her creation and I just stared at this girlish apparition in the mirror. "You look gorgeous," she said. "Here, put these on," and she handed me a pair of stretchy white lace gloves, then gave me a small satin drawstring purse. Sarah looked at her watch and said, "Come along, we don't want to be late." "Late?" I said. "Late for what?" "Don't you ever listen," she said, "I said we we're having a dress rehearsal, to get you used to the idea of appearing in public in your Flower Girl outfit....we'regoing to church." The enormity of what she said took a few seconds to penetrate my mind, then a pang of pure panic gripped my stomach. I had never before been seen in a dress by anyone other than Sarah and here she was suggesting that wewere going out to church with me, a hulking cruiserweight dressed like this. "You ARE joking," I said, "I can't go out looking like THIS." "Don't be silly," she replied, "of course we are, how else are you going to get used to public exposure? I don't want you throwing a paddy on the big day so you may as well get used to the idea now." "Please Sarah," I implored, "don't make me do this." Her face hardened. "You know what will happen if you defy me don't you Susie?" she said, deliberately emphasizing my sissy name. I was defeated and she new it and smiled triumphantly as I dropped my chin into my chest. "I promised my brother you would do this with a good heart and I always keep my promise young lady, so come on now or you'll be going to church with a sore bottom." I followed her reluctantly down the stairs to the hallway and she picked up the car keys and opened the front door. It was a beautiful summer morning, the sun warm without being hot and a warm breeze swayed the trees. She opened the rear door of the car and beckoned me to get in. I looked round to see if any of the neighbours were about but it was completely deserted and I scurried as quickly as I could, my shoes scrunching noisily on the gravel and got into the back seat. Sarah got in the driving seat and we set off down the drive onto the road. Another car came past and I shrunk as low as I could in my seat to avoid the drivers attention. "Where are we going?" I asked her. "You'll see," she said, "I've decided to give you an easy start so we're going to a small church I know in the country. It's very quiet and the congregation is always very small." Stupidly, it had never occurred to me before now that there would be anyone else at the church. But it was Sunday, of course there would be people at the church, that's what happened at churches on a Sunday. I was trapped. Here I was, a six foot plus man, going to church in a sissy little girls dress with a ribbon in my hair to sit through a service with who knows how many other people and a priest who would be able to see me throughout the service. What had I let myself in for? We drove on for about thirty five minutes leaving the town behind and passing through a couple of small villages until we came to a cross road and Lesley turned left. We entered a tiny hamlet with some farm buildings on the right and several cottages on the left. Just past the cottages was an open grassy area, then an iron railing that enclosed a small pond with several ducks on it. A war memorial stood beside the pond with a withered bunch of flowers at its base. The road went into a dead end where a huge pair of gates stood open and led into a private track that looked like it led up to a big house. On the other side of the road, standing about twenty yards back, was a small church with a patch of rough land in front which was utilized as a car park. Sarah pulled in and parked on the far side, away from four other cars that were in a neat row. She turned off the engine, got out and opened my door. "Come on Susie, we don't want to begoing in when it's started, everyone will look at us." I reluctantly left the relative safety of the car and peered round but there was no one to be seen. It was quite breezy and in the short walk to the entrance I found myself having to hold my dress down for fear of it billowing up. I could hear the soft tones of the organ playing some nondescript background music and we walked through the apse and up to the open door into the porch. Looking through the inner door it was surprisingly light and airy inside the church with the walls painted white contrasting with the dark oak of the pews. Sarah went in and curtseyed briefly in the direction of the altar and crossed herself, then indicated for me to do the same. I felt so foolish as I bobbed a clumsy curtsey and could feel my face heating up as I did her bidding and tried to hide behind her as we entered the body of the church. There were seven people inside, all clustered near the front facing the pulpit, two couples and three others, all women, sat alone. No one turned at our arrival and we went to a pew at the back, on the opposite side to where they rest were sitting. I could feel my stomach twisting itself into knots and my face was burning. I sat hardly moving, hoping not to draw attention to myself. At this point, the organ stopped and I heard a movement behind us and turned around instinctively. My gaze went upwards as I realized the organ was in a minstrels gallery aboveus and my eyes were met by the bemused stare of the lady playing the organ. I turned away and my embarrassment went up about two notches on the richter scale. At this point the priest entered the pulpit and went into his routine. "Let us pray," he intoned, and everyone knelt on the padded rest in front of the pews and bowed their heads. Not being accustomed to the ritual of a service, I followed suit about three seconds behind everyone else and immediately caught the priests eye. The pulpit was in an elevated position so he had a fine view of his newest worshipper, yet he carried on as if nothing unusual had happened. The prayer ended and he said, "We will now sing hymn number two seven five, "Every Morning Mercies New." Everyone stood up and located the page in their hymnal, then the organ sounded a single chord and the tiny congregation began singing what was obviously a well known hymn to them but with little enthusiasm. Every morning mercies new Fall as fresh as morning dew; Every morning let us pay Tribute with the early day: For Thy mercies, Lord, are sure; Thy compassion doth endure. I had always hated church music and I stood next to Sarah holding the hymnal in front of my face miming my way through another three verses of this awful dirge, all the time sensing the organists eyes burning into my back while the priest openly stared at me from his vantage point. Unbelievably, not one of the congregation turned and spotted me during the service which seemed to go on for hours to me, but in reality was about fifty minutes. Eventually, the priest said the last prayer and terminated the service with the words, "May God go with you, Amen," and walked down the aisle to thank his parishioners for their attendance as they made their exit. The organist began the nondescript song again and the small congregation all stood up and edged their way to the centre aisle to exit the church. At this point each and every one of them seemed to see me simultaneously and as what they were seeing sunk in, a collective wave of embarrassment seemed to sweep over them and totally engulfed me, and they left muttering to themselves probably reluctant to say anything they might regret whilst still on holy ground. I turned to Sarah and she was grinning from ear to ear at my discomfort, totally unperturbed by the reaction of our fellow worshipers. When the last of them had shaken the priest's hand and moved towards the car park, Sarah said, "OK Susie, time we are off, let's just say bye bye to the father and thank him for his lovely service." We started towards the exit and as I knew he would be, the priest was waiting, now looking at Sarah as she approached him. "Thank you so much Father, for a lovely service," she gushed, "I hope you didn't mind that I brought Susie along with me, we mean no offense and would be grateful if you could accept us into your congregation." The priest looked a little non-plussed but recovered well and said, "Madam, I am a servant of God, I accept all God's children without judgment no matter who, or what they are.... I just wish you'd marked my card before you came." Sarah laughed and promised to do just that next time and said, "Come along Susie, thank the Father, for his service and put this in the offertory." She handed me a twenty pound note and I mumbled a sort of thank you and to my own astonishment performed a little curtsey to the priest before placing the note in the tray by the entrance. I shot towards the door to escape, only to be confronted by the lady organist who, unrestricted by holy vows, looked atme with complete contempt and said, "How pathetic are you then?" and then turned away throwing a "disgusting pervert" over her shoulder as she left. I was drowning in embarrassment and wanted to be anywhere other than standing in a church entrance dressed as a silly little girl. I looked back at Sarah imploring her with my eyes to get me out of my misery. The priest watched with an amused expression and Sarah smiled wickedly and then said, "Goodbye Father, I'm sure we'll come again soon." She walked past me out of the church and I followed, trying to hide behind her in case there were people still in the car park. Of course there were, five of the congregation were still talking by their cars and there was no prize for guessing their topic of conversation. They all stopped and stared as we walked to ours. Sarah clicked the central locking and I made a beeline for the door and just as I was about to get in a gust of wind lifted my dress up at the back to reveal my panties. The five of them burst into laughter and I dived into theback seat and quickly shut the door. Sarah followed much more leisurely and got into the driving seat and started the engine. "Right," she said, "where shall we go now?" "PLEASE Sarah," I implored, "take me home NOW." She looked at me through the mirror and must have taken pity on me. "All right, but you better be ready to perform at the wedding next week, if you let me down, I promise I will give you the spanking of your life in front of all the guests, and when we get back, I'll be emailing some photos to certain people." She set off slowly and drove an alternate route home which went through the High Street. I hid myself as best I could but still got one or two strange looks from other drivers and pedestrians. Eventually we pulled into our drive and parked the car. I looked to make sure no neighbours were out, then scampered to the door and waited for Lesley to unlock it. I stumbled into the lounge and almost collapsed onto the settee, my heart beating fast and furious. After I had calmed down, Sarah made me change out of my Flower Girl outfit and into a pale pink cotton dress and white frilly apron while I prepared some lunch for us and then did housework while Lesley had coffee and watched television. That night I slept in my girls room, my Flower Girl dress hanging behind the wardrobe door, knowing that the following weekend I would be wearing it again, only this time at a mock wedding ceremony in front of sixty plus guests. To be continued.....