Married Into Petticoats - Chapter 2 Of 5 free porn video

Married Into Petticoats a story by Prim The story so far: Simon, just married to Monica Barber, finds himself dominated by his new mother-in-law, Veronica. She makes him strip and put on her coat, in which he is tied helplessly. His two stepdaughters, Shannon and Sophia, apparently knew this was coming, as did his own wife. Veronica's doctor friend Catherine arrives, and has Simon inhaling medications that weaken and soften him. Then the two of them take him upstairs to her flat - to start his training. Chapter 2: Simon's Conditioning Begins in his Mother-In-Law's Apartment The little procession started up the stairs: Veronica in front, leading her new son-in-law by his erected penis, and Doctor Catherine del Mar behind him, holding a six inch probe up his naked anus. Simon Barber's misery was clear for them all to see inside Veronica's upturned coat of shiny satin: bossed and belittled by his mother-in-law, laughed at by his beloved bride and masturbated by his stepdaughters. His tears flowed afresh down his wet cheeks. "Bye, honey, enjoy!" he heard from behind. This was the cruellest blow of all for Simon: did Monica know all about her mother's attitude? Was it a plan, a conspiracy cooked up between the two of them, maybe arranged several weeks before they got married. "Take your medicine like a man. Ha - ha - ha-a-a-a-aaaaa!" "Bye da-deeee! We'll see you later, when you're looking ever so swe-e- eet!" That was Shannon, his older step-daughter, who had already tormented his mortified penis, bringing it to the point of ejaculation but constantly denying it its relief. Her sister was no better. "Come down after dinner, Daddy sweetie," she called. "I want to play with that little dick and balls... and make you cry and cry!" Simon Barber had known from his courting days with Monica that Sophia was always going to be a bundle of trouble. Now he dreaded to think what she had in mind for him. Thank goodness his party turned out of sight at the top of the stairs and passed along the landing to the second staircase. "You're going to love coming up these stairs from now onwards, my little barleysugar," said Veronica, pulling him harder on his penis and bringing grunts of pain from the wrappings of emerald green duchess satin round his body and head in a parody of a little jacket. Veronica's coat was all he wore apart from his shirt. His hands were tied between his legs with his mother-in-law's pantyhose, with one arm inside her coat and the other out. His eyes could see nothing on the dim staircase but the elegant jacket of her lemon costume in front of him, her large, dangling green earrings and her platinum blond up-do. No matter what he did, he was no match for this determined woman, especially when being forced forward by another woman behind, who pushed his anal probe deeper than he could manage. It forced him to wail, while Veronica had no respect at all for the sensitive feeling of his genitals. They arrived on the top landing and his mother-in-law opened her purse to take out her key. "Why will he love coming up the stairs, Veronica?" asked the doctor, her dark voice soft and rounded. "Surely he's going to dread coming through your door." "Maybe so, dear, but at least it will mean his humiliation session downstairs will have come to an end. Being up here with his loveable mother-in-law will seem like bliss when he learns what his new life is going to be like." As the door opened, Simon Barber got his first sniff of that cocktail of feminine smells that would become home-sweet-home to him. Camomile, lavender, Chanel no. 5 and the nameless but expensive fabric-sweetener that Veronica used in all her wardrobes and drawers. Some exquisite fragrance from her time in Paris in the eighties. Right now, he just wanted his anus to be delivered of the long instrument that was plugging him. Then, as if his mind could affect his fortune, it withdrew in a single slide, and his whole body relaxed. With Monica and her daughters downstairs, it was the obvious time to try and get this horrible mess sorted out. "Veronica, listen... I don't know what I'm supposed to have done wrong, but..." "Are you talking to me?" Her elegantly made-up face turned on him with sour contempt. It was so abrupt, he wanted to confront her with her rudeness. "I asked you a question," she said. "Don't be so ignorant as to not give me a polite answer. I said, are you talking to me?" Her face, in spite of her sixty-five years, was pleasantly full and endearing, with its second chin, prominent nose and beautiful eyes. The set of her lips and the lift of her nose compelled Simon to cooperate. "Well, yes, Veronica. Obviously." "Let's get this straight right now, boy. When you speak to me, you kneel down first, then ask if you may speak to me." A pang stung through Simon's pride. He was dressed foolishly in the coat she had just worn as mother-of-the-bride; he was naked from the waist down and with his hands tied a foot apart under his legs. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but lightning struck him before he could act. It was his penis again, gripped in a claw and squeezed til he cried out. "You will do as you are told, Simon Barber." She was busy as she held him, holding her purse out to her friend. "Get my cincher out, Catherine, for his testicles. The little worm is starting his first lesson." Her son-in-law cringed lower and lower, bending at the knees as she twisted her grip. She could do what she liked with him since his hands were tied. His eyes went from Veronica's narrow lemon skirt and white high heels to the doctor's multicoloured frock. He was lifted onto his toes, so that his mouth hung open and he made little barking noises. She wrapped the narrow cords round his testacles in a figure of eight, then round the back twice, and finished him off with a secure knot. She held the cord up in front of his face, and lifted her brows for him to accept that she had him on a leash. "The cane, Catherine, please. He has to learn obedience." "I think he'll learn it quickly," said the doctor, passing over the crook handled cane. "After the inhalants I gave him downstairs, his resistance will be pathetic." She gave him a push from behind as Veronica pulled him forward, and the bridegroom scurried further into the flat, hearing doors closing behind him. He was bundled over the side of an armchair and held down by the back of his coat. How bare and vulnerable his legs were, right up to his waist. SLASH! WHIP! THWACK! THRASH! His cries were muffled, belted as he was inside his cocoon of duchesse satin. He yelped as he was pulled by upright by his genitals, manoeuvred forward between both women, then forced down, so that his knees landed in the pile of a dark blue carpet. He had been plunged into a nightmare, on his wedding day, and he was being tormented by two demons. He felt the pantyhose being undone at his wrists and he pulled and struggled in his bundle of coat. A tug on his leash brought a roar of pain from his throat and he collapsed on the carpet, trying to lift his weight... trying to save his genitals from being torn away! He lay still, whimpering, and the women's hands opened Veronica's coat, removed the belt, and soon the whole coat dissolved, leaving him naked at the feet of Veronica Barber. A tug gave him another stab of pain. "Up... on your knees." He struggled to comply and knelt in a doubled position facing her white court shoes. "That's a good boy. I was going to whip some obedience into your buttocks, but you did as you were told very quickly so I had no reason to cane you. It's very easy, you see: if you co-operate, you will lead a pleasant life." Simon was trying to think of an answer, but it was a good thing he couldn't, because of the next thing she said: "Remember, you will always kneel before asking permission to speak to me. In fact, you will be spending a lot of time down there, boy. That's the place for pets, isn't it? Because from now on you are my poodle." Where was Monica? Did she know he was suffering such humiliation? Why wasn't she putting her mother in her place? This may be Veronica's house, but she was being inhuman to him. He couldn't even grab the woman and shake some sense into her big tits: what would his bride say to him if he were to do such a thing? He was hauled back to the present by a deadly tug on his testicles, and he struggled to his feet... onto his toes. "But I'm forgetting my manners, boy. The doctor and I should be showing you round your new home. Let's start right here, shall we? This is my sitting room, where you'll be spending a lot of time with me." Simon Barber's eyes cast about the room, barely able to take any of it in, but aware that everything was a dark purple. Satin armchairs, frilled deeply around their bases and with large, white silk and lace antimacassars decorating the backs of each one. He stood in the middle of an over- done, deeply retro space. The only lightness came in the form of the oak sideboard and table with its six chairs. The plants were weird and belonged in a Japanese garden, while the wall drapes were in the same, richly glossed mauve satin, except for two pale lilac silk screens and the pale lilac table cloth. The ceiling light was supplemented by shaded, indirect wall lights onto softened, red wallpaper. A postage stamp of daylight peered at him through the angled drapes and deep net curtains. "We can have him in here for much of his conditioning, if you like, Veronica," said Doctor Del Mar, drawing their captive's bare arms behind him so as to hold him by both hands at once. It was the first sign of gentleness he'd met since stepping into Veronica's house an hour earlier, but the doctor's words worried him. They were planning on performing some sort of procedure on him... some kind of treatment. He was about to drop to the floor if his leash would allow him to reach, and ask Victoria what this 'conditioning' meant, when he was hauled towards one of the heavy curtains on the wall. It was a door, leading Veronica, her 'poodle' and the doctor into an equally plush bedroom, this time all crimson with cream fittings. The bed was as full sized as Simon had ever seen, while floor to ceiling mirrors occupied much of the wall space. "Your bedroom, boy," she announced, pulling him close to her, so that with her high heels, his bare chest was thrust against one of her breasts in its white silk blouse. "Of course it's also my room, but you will occupy a lower section of the bed than I do. Somewhere around my pussy, in fact." A hot shock ran up Simon Barber's neck. She must have been joking! But this wasn't the time to go down on his knees and ask her; he was being pulled back into the living room and led painfully towards another curtained door. "This is where you'll be spending most of your time, my boy," she said. "Do you know what this room is called?" She held him close again, pulling his leash high so that he whimpered on his toes, with her cold cheek touching his, filling his nose and throat with her Chanel perfume. The doctor still held both his hands, using one to hold him round his waist and the other to feel round his thigh until her fingers could play with his erected penis. He was aware of her black hair and dark complexion looking at him from his other cheek as he looked around him. It was a circular space with a bare floor of polished wood reflecting curtains of rose pink satin. Every curtain was identical, with lots of spare width so that they hung with ample folds that shone from the multidirectional cluster of ceiling lights. Doctor Del Mar turned to the wall and altered the dimming switch, flooding the gloss of the curtains with white light. Their captive was led across the floor and at the touch of a partition wall at one side, one of the curtains slid almost silently open. It revealed a treatment chair: not so much a chair for dentistry - more one for gynaecology, with leg stirrups to allow for maternity investigations. It was as pink as all its surroundings, its cushions upholstered in polished pink kid, and with pink straps in all kinds of places: thick straps, three inches wide, with oblong, pink kid buckles. The rest of the space was filled with tables of equipment, bottles of lotions, make-up brushes and medical instruments, above columns of drawers containing hidden contents.. The scene sent a shock of fright through Simon Barber as he stood between the two women having his penis gently stroked. The situation was too much for his delicate constitution to cope with. He panicked. He had to see Monica... even the girls, and get them to stop what was becoming just madness to him. His first reaction was to protect his genitals. He brought his right elbow up to catch the doctor under her chin and knock her off-balance... to free his arms. He grabbed Veronica's hand, the one holding the leash, and forced her to let go. She stepped back and the leash hung free so that his penis and testicles were gripped in their cord but not being pulled. He had to get downstairs... to run into the arms of his bride. There was nowhere he would rather be right now. He ran bare-footed across the room, pulled hard on the heavy door and opened it, made his way across the sitting room, weaving his way between armchairs, and came to the curtain that covered the door. It wouldn't pull back, so he lifted a heavy armful of satin to get behind it, and jumped with fright. A naked person was standing there! Then he realised: it was a mirror. The wrong curtain. He turned, to see Veronica and the doctor coming towards him... eyeing him cautiously, with Veronica nursing her arm. Where was the way out? He lifted the next curtain and his heart shuddered: it was a storage space, with cushioned stands in the same pink kid as in that medical room. The next curtain, and at last he'd found the door, with his mother-in-law and the doctor right behind him. He turned the handle, and again. It wouldn't move. They were right behind him as he tried every way he could to open it, but nothing worked. There was nowhere else for him to go. No point running round the room... naked. He tried calling. "Monica! Mo-ni-ca!" and banging at the top of the door with two fists, creating as much noise as he could, until his arms were tired and his voice cracked with desperation. He daren't look Veronica in the face: she was standing behind him in silence, but he could see her narrow yellow skirt and white shoes, with the tip of the cane by her stockings. And next to her, the multicoloured frock of Doctor Del Mar. "Monica won't hear you, no matter how much noise you make," said his mother-in-law in a quiet voice. "This flat has sophisticated sound insulation. No-one outside will hear anything inside... but Monica will come and visit you later, I'm sure, so you can speak to her then." Simon's problems grew ten times heavier when she spoke to him in this calm, deliberate voice. She was totally in command. The ridiculous things she was doing to him, and the doctor with her, were not going to be stopped. What could he do? He was powerless. He wanted to cry, his misery swelling up through his chest. It burst out of his mouth and down his nose as a flood of snot and tears, and he sank to a crouch in his nakedness. His arms gathered at his chest and he held his face in his hands as he wept. He heard the hiss of the two women's clothes and smelt their perfume as they stood on either side of his body and Veronica lifted his leash again. This time she didn't pull him along. "Come along, my boy," she said, still in a peaceful voice. "You can't get out, so let's not waste any more effort, shall we? It's time to start your lessons." She was leading him across the sitting room and into the bedroom; not pulling, since Simon walked obediently, weeping bitterly, on a slack leash. There was nothing to be gained by resistance. Veronica drew back a curtain, and he saw his nude form in front of it... weak and pathetic. The bedroom was lavish and expensive, with lace embroidery prettying the bottoms of the curtains and with ornate decorations around the massive dressing table. The women returned into his reflected view and drew him by his elbows to the stool in front of the dressing table mirror. The lights were turned on in a flood of brilliance, and in front of him lay a complete set of flesh coloured lingerie... Veronica's lingerie, as exquisite as he would have expected of a woman like her. The doctor picked up the garter belt, at least eight inches deep, and fitted it round him, cinching in his waist. It dangled onto his legs with six suspenders an inch and a half wide. She half turned him and pressed him down on the shoulders so that he sank onto the soft seat of the stool. "You are my pet," he heard from Veronica behind him, "so you will wear my lingerie," and as she walked into his view, he saw her threading her hand through one of her fully fashioned nylons and gathering it into a glove. "Foot!" she ordered, and her son-in-law abjectly lifted his foot to within her reach so that she could slip the hose up to his ankle. She planted his foot onto the thigh of her skirt and fed it up his leg. "While you are wearing your mother-in-law's things, mind, you will grow in reverence and respect for her," commented the doctor, who pulled his stockings as high as possible and clipped his suspenders onto the welt. "Maybe it's time for you to be told your position, little boy," declared Veronica as she prepared his second stocking. "You married my daughter, which makes me your mother... and I can assure you that I will demand perfect, instant obedience. You have already overstepped the mark, with this stupid running about and all that noise. You must be punished in a moment or two. You will only ever be punished for being naughty." She held up a pair of panties, full cut and rather long, with dark coffee decoration adding sedate prettiness to the front of each leg. "I will encourage you to do as you are told by rewarding good behaviour and punishing resistance. You will soon see what is in your best interests." She stooped to his feet with her panties, let him step into them, and drew them up his stockings. His penis was almost erect, but it stiffened as the silkiness of her panties gathered round it. "The main lesson you have to learn," said the doctor close to his ear, "is that you belong to your mother-in-law. You are an extension of her, if you like." She was preparing a sort of bra to put on him. It was in soft transparent plastic, like a normal women's brassiere in most respects, but it contained its own breasts, which were the colour of skin and remarkably lifelike. "You will do just what she says, boy, because that is what will seem most pleasurable to you." The bra straps slipped up his arms and the flat of the cold breasts nestled onto his chest as she drew it together behind him. "You will find you want to please Veronica more and more," she said, hooking him together in the middle of his back. "In a strange kind of way, you will love her." "But I'm married to Monica," he burst out. "We got married this morning. She loves me... and I love her. We're going to..." Veronica's hand swept across his belly and a pang of agony grabbed him in the testes as she grabbed the leash from the waist of his panties and hauled him onto his tip-toes. "You've ignored my instruction, my boy," she said. Her voice was bitter. "You did not drop to your knees to ask if you may speak." Her son-in-law was dancing on his toes, bleating in the hope of release. "You have added ten strokes to your punishment... but that must wait until later. Right now, you will feel your new breasts." The idea was terrible to him. In the mirror he had two large breasts, almost as prominent as Veronica's beside him... with dark nipples. He saw the sour look on her lips and thought he had better cooperate, even though he was appalled at what he saw. He lifted his hands towards them, closed them over the two mammaries, and felt them give with suppleness in his grasp. He felt appallingly weak and defeated in an instant. He was being made into a female. His mother-in-law reached her arms over his head and held her flesh coloured brassiere ready, and a deep sigh escaped him as he obediently placed his hands through the straps. He sensed a smile just beneath her lips as she arranged them over his shoulders and stepped aside for her friend to fasten him into his bra. He looked down over his satin breasts, and felt his penis stiffening into his panties. "You will not simply be my panty pet, though," went on Veronica. "I will also be turning you into my sissy." By this time, Simon Barber had his quick tongue under control, but he couldn't prevent a shocked turn of the head, as if blurting: "What!" That was the way his mother-in-law took his reaction as she held his leash in the air again, not savagely... just to pull him as if leading a compliant sheep back into the treatment room. "Yes," she said: "my little girl." He swallowed, as if the lump in his throat forced him to. They had already put him into pretty lingerie... her own silky satins. Was he to be put into a little girl dress as well? He was torn between being puzzled and horrified. His head cleared quickly, however, as one of the curtains drew back and the doctor wheeled forward an upright block dripping with pairs of straps, standing waist height and covered in pink kid. She positioned it in front of him and used the toe of her shoe to fish around the base until finding a lock; then another at the far end. Veronica pushed him forward so that his midriff was across the top of it and passed one of the straps over his back. "I hope you are going to show willing cooperation," she said, as the doctor buckled a second strap over one of his thighs, just above the knee, "and appropriate contrition for your rudeness and that disgusting lack of respect I've seen in you since you came into my apartment." He was weeping silently as his other leg was strapped at thigh and ankle onto the sides of the block, and then his arms at shoulders and wrists below his face. He had a helpless feeling of being spread-eagled, suddenly made worse when a hum in his stand changed the shape of his supporting cushion. His top half sank slowly down and his buttocks up, adding humiliation to his helplessness. He was terrified as to what they were going to do to him. "Please can I have permission to speak, Veronica? Oh help..." he gargled, his head trying to lift itself up again. "No you may not," she snapped, opening a drawer and producing a ball gag on straps. "During punishments, you will remain silent and fully cooperative. You are merely being given the chastisement you have deserved." The doctor opened his mouth wide and the ball was inserted against a groan of misery, the straps were pulled back and he was tightly buckled in. He was screaming... but muted mumbles were all that escaped. The locks on his stand were released, he was wheeled to a new position and relocked. The draught of a curtain made him look up as far as he could, only to see himself in the lowest part of a large mirror. Veronica was in it too, in her yellow skirt and florid white blouse, this time holding a leather strap. It was thin, a couple of inches wide and must have been three feet long as she flexed it in her hands. "You've heard the old saying, boy, haven't you? About how this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you?" She shook her platinum hair so that her earrings danced from her hair to her carmined lips. "Well this won't be anything like that. It will hurt you a great deal, yes... but for me, it will give me nothing but intense pleasure. I have been looking forward to our little punishment sessions for a long time, my boy, I can assure you." She placed the end of the leather tawse across the points of his panties, planted her feet as wide apart as her skirt would allow, and swung her weapon overhead, delivering a fierce slash across his buttocks. Simon Barber wailed with pain, humming intensely into his gag. In his mirror he saw his mother-in-law let her tawse slide low in a circular motion, up behind her, and down again onto his butt. He couldn't believe it. She had found exactly the same, tender line of pain across his buttocks, searing through him with agony as he roared again... with a mere "Mmmmmmph!" from his throat. As Veronica swept her weapon round again, he was conscious of Doctor Del Mar, in spite of a third stroke that nearly split his buttocks in two. She was crouching close to him, her face next to his as he strained upwards to see the mirror. "While you are being punished over your horse," she said as he was beaten again, "you will feel grateful and filled with respect for your dear mother-in-law." "Mmmmmmpphhhh!" he growled as his buttocks suffered again on as-yet- untouched flesh. "She is caring for you, boy... making you good and obedient... bringing you up to be her good little girl." Another slash over his flaming pantied bottom. "You will love your darling mother-in-law whenever she smacks that naughty bottom of yours. You wait and see." Another stroke of the tawse rasped onto the tenderised flesh of his bottom. "I think you need to tell her you are very sorry for being naughty... and you will do your best to make up to her for your bad start." The leather stung him again, even harder... with more venom... as he watched his dear mother-in-law swinging her weapon again and again in her slow, measured movements. He was resolved to tell her how sorry he was. He was going to kneel at her feet and express his deep sorrow for what he had done, and the tears ran from his eyes into his hair as his tired neck had to let his head fall forward for the remainder of his punishment. It was another five minutes of horrendous pain before the rhythm of his beating came to a stop and he heard Veronica's voice. He felt the buckle being unfastened at the back of his neck and his jaws being parted to release the ball. Both women undid his wrists and ankles, although he knew that he didn't want to go anywhere, do anything. He couldn't bear to change the position of his hardened buttocks, burning like red-hot coals. "I want a full apology, my boy," said his mother-in- law, undoing the straps at one of his shoulders as her friend undid the other. When he was completely released, they both took an arm and made him stand upright, producing a scream of pain. They led him in gingered steps to another pink cushioned stand, this one only half as high. He was forced down in front of it, his knees placed on the floor against the outer sides, and fastened once more into position at his thighs. They pushed him forward to lie across the top, where he was strapped across his back into position, and straps fastened his wrists on either side of an extension that reached forward from his face. When he was incapable of any movement, Veronica sat on a chair in front of him, slid one leg over the other and loosely folded her arms beneath her ruffled jabot. She presented the polished toe of her shoe to his mouth. "You may kiss me," she said. Since her son-in-law couldn't move any closer, she drew her chair the couple of inches and placed her white patent toe between his lips. Simon Barber sucked, obediently. A swell of affection for his mother-in- law made him part his lips wider and accept more of her shoe into his mouth, sucking the smooth leather and licking the sole. She saw his reaction and rewarded him. "Good boy. Kiss my shoe as if you are kissing your beloved, darling mother-in-law." She watched him sucking in and out on the leather and felt the pull on her foot as well as the abject flicking of his tongue. He began grunting with concentration and saliva drooled from his chin. "You may apologise to me for your ignorance and ingratitude, boy," she said. Without thinking, his lips parted but stayed around her shoe as he said: "I'm sorry, Mother-In-Law... I'm sorry." He sucked again, moaning with devoted enthusiasm. "Do you wish you had been immediately obedient to your darling Mother- In-Law?" "Oh yes," suck - suck, "darling Mother-In-Law, I wish I had been a good boy." She let him suck on her shoe for a full minute, grinning calmly to the doctor at his grunts and moans. She talked down to him again. "Do you like sucking your darling Mother-In-Law's shoe, boy?" "Yes... Oh yes," suck - suck, "I like sucking your shoe, darling Mother- In-Law... I do like it." She withdrew her toe from his mouth and uncrossed her legs. "You are being a good boy now. I think it's time to begin your training. Doctor Del Mar and I are going to help you to be very, very well behaved. Be careful not to talk any more. Your permission to speak has finished." His flaming buttocks reminded him to control any urge whatsoever to question what was happening to him. His straps were unbuckled, he was hauled painfully to his feet again, and another of the curtains drew back to reveal the treatment chair. Simon controlled his speech, but his fright brought whimpers from his throat. He was manoeuvred by both women so that he sat on the chair seat but not leaning back into it. The doctor gripped him round the waist of his panties in a pink belt that buckled in front of his navel but left him sitting upright. From either side of his waist, D-clips were linked by chains which disappeared into the back of the chair. His legs were strapped above the knee and at the ankle onto separate, cushioned stirrups, while his hands were attached to the arms of his chair by the wrists. A further strap was laid across the three middle fingers of each hand and secured, so that all he could do was to lift his thumb and little finger on each side. "It's time for you to start loving your pretty girly clothes, darling son-in-law," said Victoria from behind him. He was too pained to turn to see her, but he could hear the rustle of clothing where she was preparing the girly clothes she was talking about. "You need to become ever so girly," she said, "so that your darling mother-in-law can be more and more pleased with you." Simon missed the thrust of this message. He was concerned with what Doctor Del Mar was doing. She had positioned a tall bedside stand beside one of his hands, and was smearing the back of his hand with cotton wool. From the seat level tray on the stand, she took a cannula and needle device, linked by tube to a bottle of fluid hanging at head height, and presented it to one of the veins on the back of his hand. He felt the blood draining down his body as she inserted it and taped it in place. "Nothing to worry your little head about," she said as she walked round him and wheeled a second pole stand forward. "Just something to help your emotions, so that you can feel more loving and intimate with your lovely Mother-In-Law. And with the beautiful girls' clothes that she is going to dress you in." She swabbed his hand and took the second feed, inserting it into his largest vein and taping it across his hand. She checked both the feeds and smiled to Veronica. "I think your little girl will be ready to love his darling Mother-In-Law now." The sizzle of clothes behind him got nearer, and Veronica stepped into his view, no longer wearing the white blouse she had worn at the wedding, but instead, wearing a sumptuous blouse of glossy pink satin. He let out a squeal, in a helpless, gurgling whimper, at the sight of her. Her eye make-up was sharpened into a new attractiveness, including glossily pinked shadow on her lids, while her lips had twice the thickness of gleaming red lipstick. They were so inviting, especially as she was almost smiling, while her green, dangling earrings had been replaced by curved semi-spheres of white opal. But what overwhelmed his sensitivity was the size and femininity of her blouse: the sleeves billowed from her shoulders, and finished in long flattened cuffs that hung beneath her wrists and buttoned through from both sides. Her bust supported a spread of vertical pleats, surrounded with a ruffled border creating a bib, while her neck was cuffed up to her chin and over the base of her hair, finishing with frills that surrounded her face and hair with three inches of pale pink satin. Every button of her blouse was satin covered, while every inch of fabric rustled and shone with exquisite, feminine attractiveness. It was only when she stood beside him that he noticed her skirt too, or rather the huge, square buckle of black taffeta that locked her taffeta belt in place. He could only imagine the flow or the narrowness of the skirt that hung beneath. "Now, my little girly girl," she said, completely changed in her tone from the strictness she showed before his punishment, "it is time for your dress conditioning to begin. Doctor?" From behind him, Doctor Del Mar passed her a little cluster of white silk chiffon, which Veronica took from her, held in front of her blouse for him to see, and spread it round his brassiered chest. It was a girls' petticoat, which fastened down the back and which had little sleeves which buttoned along the tops, so that it could be wrapped round him and buttoned shut at the back and up over each of his shoulders with little petticoat buttons. How it fluffed out from its yoke and cascaded over his breasts, and spread out from him all round from his little puffed sleeves. His penis swelled unbelievably, bringing gurgle after gurgle from his throat. "Isn't she pretty, Doctor," said Veronica, her lips broadening into more of a smile. "I want to kiss my little girl. Let's get my little darling ready for her kisses from her darling Mother-In-Law." They both attended to his treatment chair, one of them operating the supports of his arms, the other the chair back, so that the chains retracted further inside and drew him back onto the pink kid, while his arms followed him, strapped firmly at wrist and fingers. A further pair of straps was now fastened over his upper arms, and Simon Barber lay half reclined in his gynaecology chair, his legs higher than his stomach but on level with his eyes as he looked down the brilliantly white spread of his little petticoat. Suddenly his view was filled with Veronica's face, leaning over him, as a quiet buzz hummed beneath him and his treatment chair sank to a level that suited her. She was sitting beside his petticoat, straightening it for him, arranging its frill, then stroking his face with her fingers. "You are being a very good girl, sweetie," she said, reaching one hand across to his other cheek with a rustling sleeve. He sank still lower, and lower, until the huge buckle of her skirt was close to his little buttoned petticoat sleeve. "You look so pretty in your petticoat for me, darling. I love you when you are wearing something nice for me. Something very pretty and sweet, and I am going to kiss you for being such a darling little girl." She leaned over him, in pink satin and frills, and placed her glossed lips on his in a tender, gentle kiss. She lifted her lips for a moment. "Good girl, sweetie," she cooed, and sank her lips onto his again. She kissed him warmly, pressing her lips over his and smoothing them to and fro, containing his lips inside hers. She murmured with desire as she half opened her mouth and kissed him over and over with the inside of her lips, while her arms spread fully around him in billows of pink satin. "Good girl, my sweetie," she cooed as she lifted for a moment, then sank again, smothering him with rushes of satin, surrounding his whole head in the embrace of her blouse, "you are wearing your lovely girls' petticoat for darling Veronica." The tears of joy welled in Simon's eyes as he lay defencelessly and felt the pleasure of his darling Mother-In-Law flooding over him. He wanted to tell her how happiness was welling up inside him, now that he was forgiven... now that he was being obedient... now that his Mother-In-Law loved him as her little girl. His pleasure grew and grew, especially when his panties were fondled by the doctor's fingers. He wailed and whimpered with ecstasy such as he had never known before. As Veronica held his face between her hands and alternately smiled into his eyes and planted soft, wet kisses on his lips, Doctor Del Mar felt the coming throb in his penis. "Isn't it lovely, sweetie," she said, her face appearing alongside Veronica's blouse, "to feel so lovely in your little petticoat while darling Veronica is kissing her little sweetie." And as he heard her words, his blissful love for his Mother-In-Law overwhelmed him, he wished he could put his arms around her and squeeze... and he squirted and squirted his adoration into her flesh coloured pretty panties as she held him under her blouse on his treatment table. *** In Chapter 3 in a week's time, Simon learns more about how he will adore his Mother-In-Law, and is visited during his training by the rest of the family. This story comes from the Petticoat Wendyhouse at www.primspetticoatwendyhouse.com