A sexual favour for a good career
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My New Career - Chapter 2 free porn video
MY NEW CAREER - PART 2
Whistling tunelessly, I put down the pen and inspected my handiwork. Not
great, but not bad either. In the circumstances, it was the best I could
do. It wouldn't fool anyone who looked too closely, but hopefully I
could avoid that kind of scrutiny. And if I did get rumbled, well - what
was the worst that could happen? With a shrug of my shoulders I turned
to the next item on my list. The choice of colours was pretty limited,
but then so was my ability to carry them off. With a sigh, I picked up
the Russian Red lipstick and began to apply it to my puckered lips ...
It had started the day of the interview. Kristen Everett, one of the
principals of the college that I had hoped would employ me as a teacher,
had not only told me I was to be a student there instead, but insisted I
would have to wear a uniform. A uniform involving stockings and heels!
And had I heard right? Had she just called me ... Katy???
As I stared at her in consternation, her brother Gordon patted her on
the arm and headed for the door of the office. Pausing in the doorway,
he announced brightly: "Well, I'll leave you girls to it then. I do have
some lessons to supervise." With a twinkle in his eyes, he delivered his
parting comment to me: "I'll look forward to seeing you later ... Miss
Riley."
I watched the door close behind him and then swung back to face Kristen.
Blushing furiously, my mouth moved soundlessly for a moment before I
could find the words for which I was searching. "What did he mean ...
and how am I supposed to wear those ... those things? I'm not -"
The finger she put to her lips cut me off in mid-sentence. She looked at
me steadily for a moment. When she spoke, her tone was businesslike.
"You will at all times address me as ma'am. My brother is sir. The same
for all the staff here. You will await instructions and not ask
questions unless absolutely necessary. Is that clear?"
I opened my mouth to protest, but closed it again as Kristen lifted her
eyebrows and with a slight incline of her head directed my attention to
the computer screen. It was still cycling through photos of the sexual
encounter I'd had in this very room just a few minutes ago. Photos that
would be very hard for me to explain, if they got into the wrong hands -
or any hands, for that matter. Photos that, together with the contract I
had just signed, would ensure I did exactly what I was told.
In the circumstances there was only one answer to give. "Yes ma'am", I
responded in a quiet, dispirited tone.
"Excellent", she said, rubbing her hands together. "We can get to work
then. You can start by taking your clothes off."
I gave her a blank stare. My head was clearer now, but I simply couldn't
process the information. It said something for my state of mind at this
point that it was only later that I realised the pastries I had eaten
must have been drugged - though how much my behaviour had been modified
remained worryingly unclear.
The principal responded by picking up the ruler I had discarded and
tapping it meaningfully against the palm of one hand. "What part of
'take you clothes off' don't you understand, Katy? Do it now!"
The whiplash emphasis on the last word was enough to jar me into action.
I hastily peeled off my jacket and shirt, laying them down on the couch.
My shoes, socks and trousers quickly followed. As I stripped off I
wondered about the name she had now twice used in speaking to me. Why
did I suddenly have a girl's name? And what was familiar about that name
anyway?
Soon enough only my boxers remained. I looked imploringly at Kristen -
no, I must start thinking of her as Miss Everett. Whatever her name, her
gaze was implacable.
"Did I tell you take your outer clothes off, or everything bar your
underwear?" she inquired, icily. "No, I did not."
With a sigh I pulled down my last item of clothing , stepped out of it
and stood before her, my hands awkwardly cupped over my genitals. She
snorted in derision. "There's nothing there I haven't seen"' she
commented drily. "Indeed I saw it just a few minutes ago in the mouth of
that lovely young man. Put your hands behind your back."
This time I obeyed the peremptory command and stood there awkwardly, all
too aware of my nakedness and shivering despite the warmth in the
office. Miss Everett stood in front of me, and without breaking eye
contact reached down to lightly fondle my cock. It was all I could do
not to cry out. As it was, my member stiffened noticeably under her
touch.
"Hmmm, what a big clitty you have, Katy. We'll have to see what we can
do about that ..." As I pondered what on earth that last remark could
mean, my cock grew harder still.
Still lightly stroking me, Miss Everett reached across to press the same
button on the desk her brother had recently used. "You can come in now
Grace", she said.
As the door opened to admit the pretty receptionist I'd already met,
Miss Everett stepped away from me, leaving my semi-elect cock fully
exposed. Grace seemed unsurprised to find a naked man in the principals'
office. She did not even spare me a glance, looking instead at her
employer for instructions. But if I thought I'd been embarrassed before,
it was nothing to the flush that now spread through my body - an effect
that only deepened at Miss Everett's next words.
Motioning to the receptionist to a nearby straight-backed chair, she
looked at me thoughtfully, then said: "in a minute, Grace will take you
to get prepped. But before she does that, I think you need a
demonstration of what happens when you don't do what you're told."
She gestured towards the young woman, who was now sitting upright, her
skirt riding up to reveal the stocking-tops I'd glimpsed earlier. "I
want you over her lap, face down, bottom up. Now."
Despite my shock at her command, I was quick this time to obey ...
though Miss Everett insisted on moving me around to find the right
position, with the result that my cock kept grazing against Grace's
nylon-clad thighs, something which did nothing to lessen my arousal.
When she was satisfied, the older woman instructed the receptionist:
"Five strokes on each cheek please. And since I'm feeling generous
today, your hand will suffice, dear."
I couldn't ever recall being spanked before - and it was not an
experience I was eager to repeat, either. No light taps for me, just
heavy-handed blows that first smarted and then really hurt. There was
nothing in the least bit exciting about it and even Grace's application
of the cooling cream I'd earlier used on Jason did nothing to restore
the erection that had collapsed after the first resounding slap.
When Grace was finished with the cream, Miss Everett went to the bag
she'd showed me earlier, pulled out a long, slender gown made of a
diaphanous black fabric and told me to put it on. It was pretty see-
through, but at least gave me some semblance of decency as I followed
the receptionist to another part of the College's underground facility.
Mercifully, we passed only a few groups of people along the way, none of
whom paid any obvious attention to me.
The next three hours passed in a blur that was alternately painful and
embarrassing - or indeed often both. I was put into the care of a sweet
young redhead called Lily and a rather androgynous young man named
Daniel. They began by using a combination of creams and wax to strip me
of all my bodily hair - genitals very much included, to my considerable
discomfort. I was bathed in sweet smelling oils that left my skin smooth
and finely scented and given the first of what turned out to be several
sets of products, accompanied by detailed written instructions on how
and when to apply them.
Next, they turned to the only substantial hair I had left. My eyebrows
were trimmed and tidied and my dark brown, shoulder length hair was
shampooed, conditioned and repeatedly brushed, until it had a lustrous
sheen I'd never previously seen. It was then tied into two bunches, one
on each side of my head, with simple pink scrunchies to hold the strands
in place.
Last, an extensive collection of makeup was applied to my face and neck.
The process took a considerable time, with much careful explanation from
Daniel and Lily about what to use, how to apply it and in what order.
Again, I was given both products and instructions to take away - the
clear inference being that I would be expected to do this myself in the
future. After the initial layers of foundation were put on, I was
required to keep my eyes closed throughout the process - except when the
eyeliner was applied, for which I had to look at the ceiling and do my
best not to blink. By the time I was allowed to open them again, I was
no longer in front of a mirror, so at this point I had no idea how I
looked. But Lily and Daniel clearly seemed satisfied with their efforts.
Throughout this process - or at least for the first hour or so - I tried
to get my two beauticians (if that's what they were) to tell me what was
going on. But while they were perfectly happy to chat about fashion,
celebrities or the latest internet memes, and treated me as gently as
the process allowed, they simply refused to answer any questions about
either Ceder College or what was to happen to me.
Eventually, Lily cut off yet another query with a finger to her lips,
pointed around the room, then mimed someone listening on headphones. I
got the message - that we were somehow under surveillance, though I
could see no cameras or microphones anywhere. At that point I stopped
asking questions and started thinking instead, while still making small
talk from time to time.
Not that the thinking got me anywhere. It was plain that I was being
forcibly feminised, though to what end I simply could not imagine. I
would just have to wait and see what happened. Would I even be allowed
to go home, I wondered, or would I have to stay at some dormitory here
at the College? I had no close family or friends who would be likely to
miss me if I didn't go back to my apartment ... though my landlord might
come looking if the rent didn't get paid, especially as I was already a
couple of weeks behind.
The one mystery I thought I might have solved concerned Miss Everett's
use of the name Katy. A chance remark by Daniel reminded me that one of
the questions on the College's application form concerned the identity
of the woman I'd most like to spend time with. After toying with a
number of worthy but not entirely honest options, I'd eventually decided
to come clean and nominate Katy Perry. It was not so much that I loved
her music - though it was enjoyable enough - as the fact that she
figured so prominently in my fantasies.
Was it coincidence then that the name of the woman I'd most like to know
and hang out with (or, okay, sleep with) was the very name Miss Everett
was now calling me? I didn't think so. Which presumably meant that if
I'd nominated my favourite actress instead, I'd now be having to answer
to Jewel or Morena ...
At any event, it was a very different Martin Riley (no way was I going
to think of myself as Katy!) that was returned to the principals'
office, sometime around lunchtime - fully shaven, far sweeter-smelling,
made up and with my hair in unfamiliar bunches. I found a plate of
sandwiches and a jug of orange juice waiting for me, but after a
suspicious look decided that I shouldn't risk them.
After a short wait, Miss Everett entered. She gave me a searching look,
then smiled and shook her head. "Damn, those two are good. I know I
shouldn't be surprised, but I always am ..."
Noticing the sandwiches, she picked one up, bit into it and then held
the uneaten part up to me. "Not hungry?", she asked, a ghost of a smile
playing on her lips. "Too bad, they're really nice you know."
Returning to the bag of clothes that I'd seen her with before, she
fished out several items and dropped them on the couch next to me.
"Okay, time to get you into your first costume. Take the gown off, and
then start with the stockings."
With only the slightest hesitation - I had already learnt not to
question her commands - I slipped out of the gown and sat down on the
couch, trying my best to ignore my nakedness. I rummaged through the
pile and found two wispy black nylon stockings. As I'd seen women do in
films or videos, I tried to gather the first stocking from the inside,
carefully inserted one foot into the bottom, then began to peel it up my
leg. It took a lot of tugging and smoothing - the material was evidently
quite resilient, because it didn't run - but eventually I had it all the
way up to the top of my thigh, where the elasticated top held it in
place.
After the other stocking was secured, I looked at Miss Everett for
guidance. Wordlessly, she handed me a pair of black, satin panties. They
had a curious inside pocket which had me puzzled for a moment, until the
principal showed me how to tuck my cock into it. A small drawstring at
the bottom, when pulled tight and tied up, ensured that my member was
pulled back underneath me. There was still a slight bulge, and it wasn't
exactly comfortable, but at least if I got excited my cock would not jut
out like a tentpole.
"Now Katy", said Miss Everett, holding up the shoes I had glimpsed
earlier in the day, "here is the most important part of your outfit."
The shoes were made of black leather, with fully enclosed toes, elegant
heels and fairly chunky ankle straps. "They're only three-inch heels,
but we'll get you into higher ones when you've learnt to cope with
these. Come on then, let's see them on you."
I manoeuvred my feet into one shoe, then the other. They were a snug
fit. Miss Everett showed me how the ankle straps fastened, including a
special clasp that made a distinct click as it was engaged.
As I stood up and tried to get used to the novel and awkward angle of my
feet, wobbling not a little, Miss Everett laid a hand on my arm to
steady me, then delivered yet another shock in what was already a day of
unwelcome surprises.
"Now listen carefully Katy, you need to understand that these are very
special shoes - and I don't mean those lovely heels that you're doing
your best to fall off. Those straps contain some very clever technology.
Once they are fastened, they are locked in place. Unless you have a key
- and we're not giving you one - you won't be able to take them off
until eleven o'clock tonight, when the clasps will automatically undo.
You could cut through the straps - but aside from being a lot tougher
than they look, a biometric sensor will let us know if you're no longer
wearing the shoes. And then ... well those lovely photos of you and
Jason will be all over the Internet. Understand?"
Even with my heightened sense of anxiety - or perhaps because of it - it
took me a few seconds to take in what she'd just told me. I exhaled and
then answered "Yes ma'am. You mean ..."
"I mean", she said, her voice still level, "that you're wearing those
shoes for the rest of the day. When we've finished with you, you'll go
home - in those shoes. And you'll stay in those shoes until at least
eleven tonight."
She smiled thinly. "And in the morning, you'll have until eight o'clock
to put them back on. If you don't do that, we'll know. As we'll also
know if you try to make your way here in any type of footwear other than
your new shoes. We will swap them from time to time, but until we say
otherwise, you are going everywhere in high heels. Got it, Katy?"
The emphasis on the name was just that last twist of the knife. As my
expression must have told her, I was already starting to run through the
implications of what she'd just said - and not liking them one little
bit. But there was only one thing to say. "Yes Miss Everett ... I mean,
ma'am."
Her smile broadened, as she picked up the remaining items of clothing.
"All right then, let's get the rest of this on you."
"This" turned out to be a grey, pleated skirt which, although short,
seemed long enough to sit below my stocking tops, together with a white
blouse, blue blazer and striped blue tie. The outfit clearly matched the
one I had seen on Jason earlier.. It was rather less sexy, or slutty,
than I had feared. Aside perhaps from the height of the heels, it was
the kind of uniform you might routinely expect to see being worn at some
of the more affluent (or pretentious) high schools. Which of course
would figure ... if I was expected to wear it to go home in. On the
train, no less.
Doing my best to suppress this horrible thought, I tottered behind Miss
Everett as she led me out of the office, down a corridor and into a
bathroom, where a full-length mirror at last allowed me to see what had
been done to me.
I stared. For the first time in hours, the knot of tension in my stomach
relaxed, just a little. For one thing, I was unrecognisable. Looking as
I did, it was hard to imagine anyone twigging my identity - certainly
not without close inspection. For another, I was almost ... pretty. The
makeup was not the pancaked caricature of the drag queen, but a subtle
use of tones and textures to suggest femininity. Minus the tell-tale
stubble, and with my cheekbones and jawline altered, I could almost pass
as the young woman that my hair and clothing suggested.
Of course I could see right away that I was holding myself all wrong,
and as soon as I tried to move the illusion was quickly lost. But with a
bit of practice ...
I caught Miss Everett's eye in the mirror. She gave a more relaxed smile
than I'd seen all day and asked softly: "Who is it that you see?" I
didn't need to think about the answer. "I see Katy, ma'am."
She nodded, held my gaze for a moment, and then suddenly the spell
seemed to be broken and she was all business again. I was sent off for
what turned out to be an uncomfortable afternoon learning how to walk in
my heels, how to sit down and stand up, how to go up or down stairs, how
to stand and have a conversation, or sit and chat, and a thousand other
details that slipped through my sieve of a brain. About all I could say
by the time it finished was that I could walk steadily enough ... while
my calves ached unmercifully and my feet were nearly as bad.
Late in the afternoon, I was shown back into the principals' office,
where I found both Mr and Miss Everett waiting for me. "My, Katy"
exclaimed the former, his handsome face creasing into a broad grin as he
rose to greet me, "you have scrubbed up well! How are you going in your
lovely new uniform?"
"Fine, thank you sir", I replied in a dull tone. Truth be told, I was
quite enjoying the feel of the stockings on my hairless legs, and the
swish of my skirt as I moved around just added an extra frisson. But the
brief moment I had shared with Miss Everett earlier in the bathroom had
well and truly passed. I was tired, sore and every glimpse now of my
"lovely new uniform" just reinforced the humiliation I was feeling.
And above all, there was the building sense of dread as I contemplated
the prospect of being forced to go home in my current state of dress ...
Miss Everett's voice cut through my gloomy thoughts. "We're about done
for the day. No doubt you have a lot of questions. Which is a pity,
because we're not about to give you any answers ... not yet anyway. But
there is one more thing you get to do for us before we send you home."
Her smile was broad and mischievous. "One of our little perks as
principals is to ... have some fun with our newest recruits. Break them
in, so to speak. Especially when they look as enticing as you do."
I looked aghast at her, then over to her bother, whose wolfish grin left
me in no doubt at all about the kind of "fun" to which she was alluding.
But her next words gave me a glimmer of hope.
"Since you're so new to this, we'll let you choose which one of us gets
to play with you." I opened my mouth to give her what seemed the obvious
answer. But she held up a warning finger, forestalling my response.
"Before you choose, you should know that there's a catch." Her voice was
low and ominous and I steeled myself for one more unpleasant surprise. I
was not wrong, either.
"If you pick me", she continued, "you get to go home exactly as you are
- uniform, makeup, hair, the whole package. But agree to just half an
hour with my brother, and you get your clothes back. Plus the makeup
comes off. Only the shoes and the stockings have to stay on for the trip
back to your apartment."
The smile was back now. There was no hint of malice or gloating in her
expression, just an air of curiosity as she looked into my eyes and put
the question: "So, Katy, who gets to have their wicked way with you?"
My eyes darted from one to the other. What a choice to have to make ...
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