A sexual favour for a good career
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My New Career - Chapter 3 free porn video
MY NEW CAREER - PART 3
As I took the last, faltering steps to reach the sanctuary of my
apartment, I reached into my trouser pocket for my keys. Only I didn't
have a pocket ... and I wasn't wearing trousers. Swearing, I fumbled
with the unfamiliar catch of the handbag slung over my shoulder. Digging
inside, I found the keys, but as I pulled them out they slipped from my
shaking fingers and fell to the floor. Reflexively, I reached down to
grab them ... and very nearly toppled over head first, as I overbalanced
on the unfamiliar heels I had been wearing now for the best part of the
day.
Cursing both my own stupidity and the terrible turn of events that had
seen me having to make my way in these impossible shoes, I straightened
up, then sank down again, this time bending both knees as I had been
taught. Scooping the keys up, I had to endure another bout of fumbling
before I could get the door open.
For a moment I stood inside the darkened apartment, just trying to
gather my wits. Then, flicking the light on I tottered on weary legs to
the bathroom. It was a good few minutes before I could bear to look at
my own reflection. And when I did, it seemed I was looking at some kind
of screen, not a mirror. I simply couldn't associate myself with the
figure I saw. Not wearing a school uniform, with hair in bunches and
elaborate makeup marred only by smudges of red lipstick around the
mouth.
Blinking at the strange sight, I sighed, then moved to the sink to try
and rinse the taste of cum out of my mouth ...
*************
Four hours or so previously I had been standing in the principals'
office at Ceder College, still dazed from the transformation I had
undergone and trying now to make what seemed an impossible choice. I
could either become a plaything of Gordon Everett and be allowed
afterwards to travel home without either makeup or (most of) the female
clothing I had been forced to wear. Or I could take my chances with his
sister Kristen instead, but remain fully feminised for the journey back
to my apartment.
As I quickly thought about it, however, the decision didn't seem so hard
after all. Notwithstanding my surprisingly erotic encounter that morning
with Jason, the pretty student who had so memorably sucked me off, I had
no desire whatsoever to put myself in the clutches of another man. I
obviously didn't know what Miss Everett might do with me, but how bad
could it be? And I thought I had enough cash in my wallet to afford a
cab home, which would spare me a lot of public scrutiny.
There were no remonstrations from the two principals, just amused grins,
when I announced my choice. "Told you," said Mr Everett to his sister,
as he got up to leave, Pausing at the door, he gave me a searching look,
then said, "Well, bye for now Katy, I'll look forward to seeing you
tomorrow. And remember, a pleasure deferred is a pleasure increased ..."
With a last wink to his sister, he left the room.
As the door closed, Miss Everett gave me a wicked smile. "Good decision
Katy! Well, from my point of view anyway ... You may yet think otherwise
though." Gesturing imperiously to a straight-backed chair, she ordered:
"Take your jacket off and then sit down there, arms by your side." Her
tone brooked no disobedience and I quickly complied. While I sat there,
nervously wondering what she had in mind, I heard a rustling sound
behind me, then silence.
Without warning, there was a flash of green as something dropped over my
head and into my lap, then another. Before I could react I felt the
pressure of what was clearly some kind of rope or twine as it was pulled
tight around my arms and upper body. More coils followed and in only
seconds I was trussed to the chair.
"What the-" I started to exclaim as I tried to twist around, but a cuff
to the head stopped me. "Speak when you're spoken to, Katy, remember?"
hissed Miss Everett in my ear. "Yes ma'am," I said in a miserable tone.
"Good girl," she responded. "Just remember who's in charge here." I felt
her hands rest lightly on my shoulders. Then with a sudden jerk she
pulled back hard, overbalancing the chair and toppling it to the ground.
Helpless, I cried out with fear and waited for the back of my skull to
crash against the floor. But then my progress slowed and I realised she
must have caught the chair back and taken some of its weight. It still
came down though with sufficient force, even on the plush carpet, to jar
every bone in my body.
Gritting my teeth, I resisted the urge to ask Miss Everett what the hell
she was doing, as that would clearly do me no good at all. As it was, I
was left on my back, stocking-clad legs bent up in front me, skirt open
to expose my black panties, and still firmly secured to the upended
chair. I heard her move across the room and the click of the door, then
silence.
I was left for a good fifteen minutes to ponder my fate. If I'd
struggled, I might have been able to get free ... but I didn't know how
quickly she might be back. And besides, she and her brother had all the
leverage they needed to secure my ongoing cooperation. Trying to run out
wasn't going to solve that - especially as I hadn't seen any of my
clothes or personal effects since the morning.
By the time Miss Everett had returned I'd been able to calm myself down
a little. But any composure I'd regained quickly vanished when she came
to stand over me. I looked up to see that she'd changed her clothing -
and how. I dimly took in the black leather corset that now encased her
upper body, but it was her bottom half that had my full attention.
Rising up above me were black, thigh-high boots in the same material,
with slender, spiked heels. And above them ... nothing. With a start, I
realised that I was looking straight up at her naked, shaved pussy.
Her chuckle tugged my gaze up to her face. "Bet you weren't expecting
that, were you?" she said, peering down at my helpless figure. She made
a gesture and I saw that she was holding some kind of long stick -
perhaps a riding crop? - with a silver tip on the end. As I watched in
horrified fascination she moved the tip down so that it rested lightly
on the barely noticeable bulge in my panties.
There was a click, a flash and I felt a jolt of pain surge through my
genitals. More surprised than in agony, I yelled out and arched my back,
almost lifting the chair off the floor in the process.
Miss Everett tutted reprovingly. "Perhaps next time you'll think twice
before deciding that I'm your least worst option? I am so tempted to
have some real fun with you ... But for today, as you're looking so
attractive in that uniform, I think I'll settle for seeing you exactly
where I like pretty girls to be."
She turned around and then knelt down, straddling me and shuffling
forward until her naked quim was poised above my head. "Eat me," she
commanded, and sat down on my face, thighs clamped around my head.
I had never been particularly fond of cunnilingus, although I had got a
lot of practice with one particular girlfriend at university who had
insisted - fairly enough as it seemed to me - that a good munch on her
pussy was a reasonable exchange for the chance to put my unimpressively
small cock inside of her.
So despite the distraction of having a rather sizeable woman pressing
what seemed like her full weight down on my nose and mouth, with little
regard for my capacity to breathe, I found it easy enough to bring Miss
Everett to a shuddering orgasm ... and then another, and finally a
third. By the end, I was actually enjoying my capacity to arouse her,
especially with no hair to tickle me or stick in my mouth. Indeed I was
not a little aroused myself by the time she finally rolled off me with a
groan.
If she noticed this though, she did not say anything. She simply freed
me from my bonds, then used the button on her desk to summon Grace, who
was evidently both a PA and a receptionist. As before, the young woman
betrayed no reaction at what she found when she came to the office, but
simply handed me a handbag and left.
I looked inquiringly at Miss Everett, who was now reclining on a couch,
her face still flushed with the effort of her last climax. "You can take
that home with you," she said. "You'll find a purse inside with a rail
ticket that will get you home and back here in the morning. Plus your
keys of course."
She stifled a yawn and then laughed softly. "I'm afraid though that
we've kept your phone. And your cash and credit card - just in case you
were thinking of, I don't know, maybe getting a taxi or something?" She
laughed again at my expression, then gestured to the door.
"Okay Katy, we're done for the day. Just make sure you're back here by
nine tomorrow morning, dressed the same way and fully made up, are we
clear? And remember that those lovely high-heeled shoes will have to
stay on until at least eleven tonight, or there'll be trouble.
Understood?"
I muttered "yes ma'am" as politely as I could muster, slipped on my
jacket and made for the door. Before I could leave though, Miss Everett
stopped me. "I nearly forgot," she said. "Two more things. You'll need
to make a bathroom stop before you leave, to repair your lipstick.
You'll find everything you need in the bag, along with all your
instructions from Lily and Daniel. Also, you may have noticed we haven't
given you any fake boobs. We don't really believe in them here. But we
do have some, so if you'd like to look a little more, shall we say,
feminine in the chest department, you're welcome to take some .. They
can be as large as you like!"
Face burning at this latest humiliation, it again took a lot of
restraint for me to issue a polite refusal. I could still hear her
chuckling as I left her office and went to the nearest bathroom to
reapply my lipstick. As quickly as I could in my new heels, I scurried
out of the premises I had entered that same morning with high hopes of
starting a career as a teacher.
Keeping my head down and avoiding all eye contact, I was soon outside in
the late afternoon sunshine. I took a quick look around, then crossed
the road to a shopping centre. Scanning for a sign indicating toilets, I
found what I was looking for and headed off to the facilities. I was
just about to enter the men's room when I pulled up with a start and,
after a brief hesitation, entered the ladies instead. Fortunately,
nobody seemed to have noticed my indecision.
Finding a cubicle, I began a long and miserable wait for the sun to go
down. I had decided that night would be my best cover to get home
without attracting undue attention. There was nothing I could do about
the artificial lights at the station or on the train, but there would
also be fewer passengers by that time.
When I finally emerged, the shopping centre was virtually deserted. By
sticking largely to dark backstreets, I was able to make it to the train
station with minimal contact - though it was a little scary walking down
some of those alleys dressed as a schoolgirl, of all things. By then I'd
resolved to do two things: to walk steadily rather than to rush, which
would not only attract attention but risk a fall in those damnable
heels; and to keep my head down and avoid looking anyone in the eye. I'd
reasoned that I couldn't stop other people seeing me, especially once on
the train. But if I didn't look at them, then I wouldn't see their
reaction - and there was less chance anyone would talk to me.
It was scary as all hell, and took a lot of concentration, but I somehow
managed to stick to my plan all the way back to my apartment block. As I
entered the lobby, I was just congratulating myself on making it home
unscathed, when the lift doors opened and a figure emerged. Without
thinking, I looked to see who it was and with a shock recognised my
landlord, who lived in a ground floor apartment in the same block.
He glanced at me and walked towards the exit. For a moment I thought I'd
escaped, but then with a cry of recognition he swung back to face me,
grabbing me by the arm. "Hey, Martin - that is you, isn't it? What on
earth are you doing looking like that???"
For one wild moment I thought about claiming to be my sister, but I
couldn't recall if I'd ever told him about being an orphan - and
besides, my voice would give it away immediately. So instead, I
stammered an answer. "Oh, er, hi Mr Stokes ... I was just, er, you know,
getting ready for a, er, fancy dress party ..."
Inwardly cursing myself for not having prepared some kind of story -
anything would have been better than the lame excuse I'd just given for
being dressed as a schoolgirl, especially on a Monday evening - I saw
the sceptical look that crossed his face. It was quickly replaced though
by another expression that I couldn't quite read. It was not as if I
knew him that well. He was a retiree in his sixties, a big bear of a man
who worked out regularly and as far as I knew lived on his own. Our most
common conversations involved me making excuses for being late with the
rent. He'd been pretty reasonable, but the arrears had started to build
up ...
It seemed like this was the topic he wanted to address now, because he
told me he'd just been up to my apartment looking for me. "It's time we
had a chat about the rent, Martin ... or should I call you Martina?" he
said with what I thought was a slightly forced laugh. "Come on, let's go
to my apartment, it won't take long, then you can head off to your ...
party."
It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I was terrified of making a
scene. So I followed him out of the lobby and round to the side entrance
that led to his place. As we went he complimented me on how well I was
walking in my heels, and how "hot" I looked.
Once inside his neatly furnished if somewhat spartan apartment, he led
me into the living room and asked me to sit down. As I sank into an
armchair, the still novel feel of the clothes I was wearing reminded me
to cross my legs as I'd been trained, rather than sitting with them
open. Demurely, I tugged the skirt down so that there was no sign of my
stocking-tops.
When Mr Stokes offered me a glass of wine, I hesitated. But I didn't
want to offend him, especially given my financial situation. He fetched
a bottle and two glasses from the kitchen, poured us both a drink, then
sat down opposite me. He then proceeded to chat about all kinds of
things for the next twenty minutes. Since I didn't want to bring up the
matter of the rent and neither, apparently, did he, the conversation
dragged on. I was desperate to get out, but couldn't see any way. And
all the while I was conscious of his eyes on me, roaming over every inch
of my body.
Finally, and with a note of regret in his voice, he said: "Martin, we
need to talk about the rent you owe. It's not that I'm desperate for the
money, but it's the principle, see, and I've got other potential tenants
who I reckon might be a bit more, well, reliable ..." He ran a hand over
his balding pate and sighed.
I put down the glass from which I'd been sipping. "Look Mr Stokes, I'm
sorry, things have been a bit tough for me ... But I understand your
position, of course I do. So how much do you need and when do you need
it by?"
He sighed again. "Well that's the thing, I've already issued you a final
demand. So unless you can come up with at least, say, eight weeks' rent
by tomorrow morning, I'm going to have to evict you. I'm well within my
rights," he concluded defensively.
I stared at him aghast. I had no cash, no way of getting any ... and
even if the Everetts agreed to return my credit card, which seemed
unlikely, I still didn't have enough in my account to cover the debt.
I'd hoped to negotiate a loan with the bank, especially if I had a new
job. But with only a vague promise that I'd eventually be earning good
money to go on, that seemed out of the question - again, even if I were
free to go there in my own clothes.
Desperately, I burst out, "I'm sorry Mr Stokes, but I can't get the
money on time. And there's ... stuff going on that I can't really talk
about. Look, isn't there anything else I can do for you to help pay my
way?"
As soon as I saw his eyes light up, I realised I'd made a mistake.
Quickly I tried to add, "You know, maybe I could clean for you ... or
something?"
Slowly, as if trying to pluck up courage, he looked around the room,
drew in a breath and then said: "Well, see, there is something, yes ..."
He hesitated, then plunged on. "Only, I've noticed you don't seem to
have a girlfriend, and then I see you tonight, looking so ... lovely,
and well, I was wondering whether you might ... sort of ... be my
girlfriend? You know, just every now and again?"
He took a long draught from his glass, then looked at me apprehensively.
I closed my eyes, groaning inwardly. "When you say 'girlfriend', you
don't mean go out on a date, do you? You know, to the movies, or a
restaurant ..."
I opened my eyes again to find him slowly shaking his head. "You're
looking for something more ... physical, right?" A nod. "Starting now,
yes?" A second nod.
So there it was. I could say no - and wake up tomorrow with no place to
live, nowhere even to leave my stuff, and no way of making or paying for
any other arrangements. While still dressed as a schoolgirl, and with an
appointment first thing that I couldn't break without risking any future
career prospects I might have, not to say my liberty.
It had been a day of hard choices. "Okay," I said, "what do you want me
to do?"
His face broke into a beaming smile, as if he couldn't believe his luck.
"Oh, thank you! You could just ... come and sit on my lap and we could
have a kiss and a cuddle and you could ... make me happy. All right?"
I breathed out. I suppose it could have been a lot worse ... I thought
hard for a minute, and then said: "All right. But all you get is a
handjob, right? And you keep your hands out of my pants, are we clear?"
He nodded his assent.
Slowly, I stood up and moved over to him. "One more thing. This clears
my debt, okay? As for any future rent, well, that's to be negotiated."
He nodded again, smiled and patted his lap. Awkwardly, I lowered myself
until I was sitting partly on his ample frame and partly on the padded
arm of the chair.
For a moment we sat there motionless. He didn't seem to know what to do
and I sure as hell wasn't going to make the first move. But then he put
his arm around me and shifted in his seat so that he could look at me.
He brought his free hand to my knee and then gently, tentatively began
to caress my nylon-covered thigh. As he did so, he moved his face into
my neck and began to nuzzle me gently.
Although his voice was muffled, I heard him say: "I suppose you think
this is weird. But I've been so lonely since my wife left ... My friends
say I should marry again, but, you see, I'm just not interested in women
my own age. I've always had a thing for younger girls and, you know ...
ladyboys ..." I could feel him blushing. "Only I've never been game to
do anything about it. But then, I saw you dressed up like this, looking
so sexy, and in that outfit an' all ..."
As he was saying this, his hand been moving under my skirt, working his
way up my leg. But as he reached the smooth, bare flesh above my
stocking, he stopped abruptly.
"Yes Mr Stokes," I said quietly. "I'm wearing stockings." Gently
disengaging him from my neck, I turned for the first time to face him.
"Do you want to see them?"
"Oh yes ..." he breathed, then watched in awe as I pulled up my skirt
and stretched out my legs so that he could get a full view. Careful not
to gouge him with my heels, I brought my legs back down, then gently
placed his hand back on my stocking top. "No higher, remember?"
He looked into my eyes, nodded, then suddenly brought his lips up to
meet mine. For a second I froze, then tentatively returned the kiss,
parting my lips gently to admit his questing tongue.
It was the strangest feeling, being kissed by a man. The usual softness
wasn't there and I was initially very aware of the stubble around his
mouth. But as it continued, I found it strangely easy to just lose
myself in the interlocking of lips and the sinuous interplay of tongues.
I was dimly aware of him pressing his body against mine, one hand
caressing my cheek and neck and the other roaming over my legs and then
around to squeeze my bottom.
Breaking the embrace, he held me away from him for a moment, looking at
my face and then down at my body, as if wanting to reassure himself that
this was really happening. "Oh Martin," he breathed.
Without knowing what prompted me to say it, I answered: "It's Katy ...
I'm Katy when I look like this ..."
He smiled, nodded and said "Hello Katy ..." And then he was kissing me
again. And I was kissing him back.
As our bodies pressed together, I felt him take one of my hands and move
it slowly down until it was resting on his groin ... where a warm, hard
lump was waiting. Shocked, I went completely still. Whatever illusion
had allowed me to return his kisses had suddenly vanished and I realised
I was making out with a man - very much of a man, if the lump was any
guide.
Once again, he drew back and looked into my eyes, but this time with a
worried expression. "Please, Katy?," he whispered. I blinked. A deal was
a deal ...
Nodding, I slid down and off him until I was kneeling between his legs.
Then with trembling fingers I undid his belt, unbuttoned his pants and
tugged on the zip, struggling to get past the lump inside. Mr Stokes
reached down and helped me to get the zip all the way down, then eased
his stiff cock out through the slit in his boxers.
What a sight it was! Although not much longer than mine it was far
thicker, with an enormous head. The skin was mottled and the shaft
interlaced with veins. The landlord guided my hands to it and I felt it
leap and twitch under my touch. Well, this at least I knew something
about, even if it was from a different direction than usual ...
Spitting in the palm of my right hand to moisten it, I wrapped it around
the shaft and began to pump it steadily, using my left to fondle the
enormous ball sac that hung beneath it. Mr Stokes groaned in pleasure,
but then gestured for me to get back up on the chair with him. So I
repositioned myself so that I was half-lying across him again, allowing
his hands to roam over my body while I wanked him with one hand.
As I picked up the pace, he started moaning. "Oh god Katy, yes, that's
it, harder ... oh, you're so beautiful, and your hand feels so good ...
oh please, harder!" I moved my hand faster still, grunting with the
effort, while his cries became more incoherent.
Suddenly he was stiffening and his mouth opened in a silent O. Just as I
looked down, his big cock bucked in my hand and sent a stream of spunk
straight at my face. I tried to duck, but simply managed to guide the
jet straight into my mouth. With a startled yell that was cut off as I
choked on the viscous fluid , I managed to redirect the remaining spurts
away from me.
Letting go of the massive appendage, which was still twitching and
dribbling cum, I would have leapt out of the chair, had its owner not
grabbed me in a crushing embrace.
"Oh Katy, oh you beautiful schoolgirl, oh, I came so hard ..." he said
as he stroked my head and squeezed my butt.
"Really," I said drily, "I hadn't noticed. Seriously Mr S, I had no idea
cocks as old as yours could shoot that far! How long has it been, for
god's sake?"
He chuckled then. "A while, Katy, a good while ... And listen, call me
Graeme, okay?"
I gently disengaged myself and got up, twisting my face at the taste in
my mouth - though I seemed to have involuntarily swallowed most of the
cream he had deposited there. Turning round to face my landlord, I said:
"Look, I'm sorry, I need to go - I've got to get ... cleaned up, okay?
But thanks for ... letting me stay. I really appreciate it."
I paused, and then leant down to plant an awkward kiss on his cheek.
"Bye Graeme."
He looked at me for a second, his gaze travelling up and down my body.
The he shook his head, smiled and said: "Goodnight Katy - and thank you
for making my fantasy come true. It was worth every cent. And I hope we
can do it again some time."
I smiled noncommittally and let myself out, leaving him still slumped in
the chair. As I went back up to my apartment I sincerely hoped that this
was the last time I would have to do anything like that. But with the
bizarre turn my life had taken in a span of just twelve hours or so, I
feared there was more to come - a lot more ...
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