The ExWife Adventure 1-4 free porn video

The Ex-Wife Adventure 1-4 ------------------------------ by Amelie Fortescue copyright c2020 Amelie Fortescue. 1. Kidnapped I was in a hurry. I suppose I was always in a hurry. I was quite stressed out by how busy I was, and things really seemed to be getting busier. I ran from my car left abandoned with the driver's door gaping open. My front door beckoned tantalising as I finished the last few yards of the gravelled driveway. A brief sideways glance showed a strange car parked in front of my garage. I shook my head to ignore it. My wife had probably made some arrangement while I was away. I had to change my suit quickly, and then join her for our presentation in the conference centre. She had been calling me every five minutes to make me hurry to her there. Our presentation was already late to start, and she was filling in for me. I shouldn't complain. I had just obtained a letter of intent from a big client in London, and now another big client was waiting to be persuaded to give us yet another contract. It was heady stuff, but exhausting and draining. The rapid hand appeared to be disembodied as it clasped the malodorous rag across my face. I just had time to think "Oh, no, not now!" before I went unconscious. --- I awoke with a pounding headache. Damn chloroform. I knew it had been chloroform, and that meant I knew who had done it to me. I analysed my situation. Not a glimmer of light, so I was blindfolded. Rubbery taste from an uncomfortable object making my jaws ache, so a gag. Investigation with my tongue told me it was a ball gag with a breathing tunnel. My cheeks told me it was strapped tight behind my neck. Hands and ankles restrained in a spread eagle. Breathing restricted to shallow breaths. Damn Barbara! She must have suddenly decided to kidnap me even after all the years of separation after our divorce. And such a time to kidnap me! She could have no idea about the importance of the business presentation she was now holding up ... And my wife, Sheila would be far from amused that my ex-wife had kidnapped me to play with me. Sheila might even imagine that I had been complicit ! I struggled, and bounced on the bed to attract Barbara's attention and show that I was now wide awake and needed to talk with her. Damn Barbara and her kinky fetishes. She had dominated our marriage, and eventually insisted on feminizing me at every opportunity. It was the constant sissy state with bondage and domination that had been the root cause of our divorce. Anyway ... I knew that she had quickly found an alternative toy to play with - What had brought on this kidnapping? I heard the door unlock, and quietened as Barbara removed my blindfold. I blinked to adjust to the sudden glare, and focussed on her huge grin. While we were married, I had told her that grinning did not suit her. She has a naturally pretty face that needs very little make-up to make her beautiful, but her grin overpowers her beauty, and makes her look oafish. I launched into a gag-talk plea for release, and she laughed heartily at me. Barbara's laugh is normally infectious. Her laugh is an honest laugh - she only laughs when genuinely amused. I had really missed hearing her laugh, and I sighed, but immediately began another gag-talk entreaty for release. She laughed even louder for a few more seconds. "Well, Fifi, I have borrowed you from Sheila ... She can have you back later, but I really need my little Fifi just now." I saw tears begin to form in her eyes. Despite my own predicament, I was concerned for her. "Grabbing you, and dressing you up has cheered me up tremendously. You were always good for me, Fifi." The first tears fell onto my face as she leant down to kiss my cheek. Despite the gag straps, I managed to create a quizzical expression. "You want to know what's up, don't you?" she asked me. I managed to nod my head slightly despite the tight posture collar. "Karl is dead!" she pronounced melodramatically. "A car accident last night ... " Her facade snapped and she collapsed onto my chest flooding my bodice and bra with a storm flow of tears. She wept and hugged my false bosom to her own dear breasts. She reached underneath to hug me tight, and adjusted her position to cover me with fierce possessive kisses. All I could do in response was to make crooning noises through my gag. After a few minutes, she pulled herself together, and stood up wiping her tears away. "You have always thought me strong, haven't you, Fifi?" she asked, and I nodded. "I really was strong even when you divorced me, and I stayed strong when I found Karl. "But to suddenly lose Karl after losing you ... I became a shambles, and then I thought of you, and how we used to be. I knew you would want to help me get over it, and I felt sure that Sheila would want you to help a woman survive her distressed state, so I volunteered you for a game. You can't imagine how much better I feel ... looking down on my Fifi in her natural state." I tried to smile an encouragement around the gag, but sighed as Barbara's troubles seemed to just increase my own. Barbara misinterpreted my sigh. "Of course, Fifi, you will want to see yourself!" she announced brightly. She picked up the cattle prod and waved it in front of me. "No tricks, Fifi!" She grinned happily, and began to unfasten my wrists, "Sit up, and put your hands behind!" she commanded, but the corset meant she had to help me sit up, and then my hands were quickly handcuffed behind me before my ankles were released. I was a little bit curious a she helped and gave some support as I stumbled towards the full length mirror in the unfamiliar ballet boots. "Why ballet boots?" I wondered, and Barbara saw my clumsy stumbling.. "You'll soon get used to the boots again, Fifi. You've been living a soft life away from me." She supported me in front of the mirror, and beamed her pleasure at our reflections. Barbara had gone all out on her domina appearance. Everything she wore exhuded tight, black, polished leather, and her hairstyle was ultra- gothic, but I was stunned by the appearance of the beautiful, sexy, gagged, French maid standing next to her. I might have looked this good before ... when Barbara and myself were still married, but I really did doubt it. I had forgotten just how convincing Barbara could make me. Barbara must have spent hours on both our looks. I mouthed something inane through the gag, and Barbara removed my gag. "The gag spoils your good looks, Fifi. Your'e quite pretty without it." Suddenly reality returned. "Barbara, I really can't play just now - I promise to come back later, and you can torture me as much as you like, but I really need to be at the conference centre. I need to ring Sheila right now - she'll be absolutely frantic!" I rushed my words. Barbara admitted that she had tossed my jacket - with my phone in the pocket into my car at my house. We were inside Barbara's house, and so she hurried to fetch her own mobile phone. I panicked - I couldn't remember Sheila's number - automation makes idleness. Barbara clicked her tongue dismissing my panic, and pressed some buttons, then held it for me. "It's ringing." she announced, "I have Sheila's number in my phonebook." she admitted, as I waited for Sheila to pick up. "Hello. who is it?" Sheila's tired voice enquired. "It's me, darling," I answered. "Fred? where are you? What's happened? Are you alright? Why are you using a different phone?" "Calm down, darling, I've had a little unexpected adventure, and got tied up ..." I trailed off as Barbara sniggered quietly. "Have you managed without me?" I asked worriedly. "Oh, darling ..." The weariness crept back into her voice. "They must know that I am just stalling them until you get here. I finished my part of the presentation, but they must have your technical presentation just as soon as ... They've gone for an early lunch ... if your presentation isn't ready when they get back, I'm convinced they'll simply walk out!" "Ok, darling," I soothed, "I need Barbara to give me a lift home so that I can change, and then I'll be with you as soon as possible." "Are you canoodling with your ex-wife instead of giving your presentation?" Sheila demanded angrily. "Are you at her house now?" she accused. "Well, yes, but I'll be home as soon as Barbara can get me there," I offered reasonably. "Don't you dare let that woman take you to our house! I shall fetch you from there!" insisted my angry wife, and cut the connection. Barbara looked worried. She was trying to unlock my handcuffs. She reselected another key, and then tried another. "Honestly, Fifi, I haven't used these handcuffs for ages. It seems that the key is not on this ring." Barbara was starting to panic, I knew she was fragile, so I quickly made a suggestion. "You've got a bench grinder in the garage, Let's grind off the locks." Barbara, helped balance me as we walked to the garage, but the confidence and skill was returning, and I entered the garage unassisted sporting a freshly-slapped, wiggly bottom. I ignored the slap and the resultant sting as I started up the bench grinder. Barbara unlocked my posture collar, and I was ready to attack the handcuffs. Has anyone else tried to grind cheap handcuffs off his wrists balancing on ballet boots with a tight French maid's skirt and even tighter corset making difficulties. Eventually, I managed to get a clear sighting, and carefully ground away at one cuff. Within three minutes the cuff was destroyed and released one wrist. With easier access, the second cuff took only two minutes to release. I barely had time to turn around, as gravel was scattered at me from Sheila's car as it was braked to a violent stop. She jumped out and stared at me in shock. "Is that you, Fred?" she demanded uncertainly, and I nodded stiffly. Sheila flung her arms around me and kissed me energetically. "I have been so worried about you!" she declared. "I didn't know whether I might be a widow - all sorts of thoughts went through my mind!" Sheila looked at her watch. "Oh, my god, look how late it is. We'll never make it back to the house first. The client will be back from lunch in five minutes, No time for plan A - so Fred's assistant will have to give Fred's presentation. Just get in the car and belt up!" Sheila commanded, and raced to her own side of the car. Like a racing driver, Sheila turned the car in the driveway, and ignoring all speed limits rushed us towards the conference centre. "Sheila, all this worry has unbalanced you. I don't have an assistant. There is nobody who can give my presentation except me - The details are very complicated and many solutions exist only inside my own head. You'd best drop me at home, and try to stall the client a bit more ..." I offered. Sheila glanced at me with a widening grin. "Fred's assistant ... Frances is here in my car ..." she said, and foolishly I turned around in my seat to look for Frances. "Lose the headband, the apron, and the lace cuffs and garters, and Frances is wearing a very sexy little black dress!" She grinned again. "I've just seen you walking, and you pass for a girl in those stilt heels. Just remember to talk softly into the microphone and you'll probably pass." "But if they see through me, the client will be gone forever!" I argued. "If nobody gives your presentation, the client will definitely be gone forever!" she responded, and I paused to organise my thoughts, as Sheila honked vigorously at a slow driver in front of us. "But these really are 'fuck-me' heels, and the skirt barely covers my cage and panties - let alone the bare flesh above my stockings. I look like a slut, a prostitute. Even if they accept me as a female, they will shy away from a company that employs whores!" Sheila's grinning face blanked back to serious. "You're probably right, but 'Frances-the-Slut' is now our best and only shot at the contract!" ---- 2. Presentation I had their full and complete attention. I tried not to imagine what I must look like. I concentrated on making a perfect presentation, and my self- consciousness slowly evaporated. Sheila had dragged me onto the stage, and thrust my notes into my hand. Her hand had hovered hesitantly as she worked out where to clip my microphone. I had seen several of my audience collecting their briefcases ready to leave, but after last glances at the stage, their expressions changed and they resumed their seats. The audience settled down and were very quiet and respectfully attentive. The sight of slutty Frances had put them on pause, and they waited expectantly. "I know you were expecting Fred to give the technical part of the presentation" I cooed in a soft voice, "But I can assure you that I have worked very closely with Fred on this project, and without any false modesty, I believe I know the technicalities just as well as Fred himself." I noticed that the geeks in the audience began to stare at my face instead of my legs and false bosom. One of them had a question for me. "Fred promised that he would personally supervise installation and maintenance, if we were to award the contract to your company. It is NOT reassuring that Fred is missing from this presentation despite his commitment to win the contract. "Your competitors are not nearly so cavalier ..." A serious looking gentleman in the front row had stood up, and waved my interlocutor back into his seat. He turned to me, and I felt some relief that his standing now offered less chance of him seeing under my very short skirt. I felt my face burn in a deep blush, before the thought died as he spoke to me. "You must excuse Simon, my dear. He is very sceptical that females might after all be intelligent. We will all ..." he briefly turned to challenge his colleagues, "... listen carefully to your presentation, and form our opinion based on content alone - not on the personage making the presentation!" He sat down and concentrated on my frozen face. Uncontrollably I thought about my skirt hem again, and the increased vulnerability in his restored viewing angle. I blushed again, and suddenly, I was grateful for that cock cage. My blush intensified as I felt the shame of arousal at the danger of exposure. "Please, carry on, my dear," the gentleman encouraged me. I snapped out of it, and gladly I leapt into the subspace of the technical religion of IT. Neither Fred, Frances nor Fifi seemed to exist anymore. Only an avatar was left to promote what I believe to be the most excellent solution for the client . Sheila later said that I moved with confidence about the stage, as I directed attention to important details, and wrote data and diagrams on the whiteboard. Apparently I was like an evangelist converting the pagans. I responded patiently and knowledgably to all interjected questions. I had succeeded in putting on a first class presentation, and when it was all over, and no questions remained, I fell down from my high. Suddenly, I was aware with extreme clarity that I was dressed like a low-class hooker in front of a staring audience. I blushed deeply and made a run for it, but running in ballet boots means rapid short steps, but overall not very fast at all. Sheila grabbed my arm and swung me to halt facing the audience. I quickly moved to shelter behind her. Her grip was like iron. "Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, that concludes our technical presentation. I hope you found it concise, informative and convincing - especially convincing?" Sheila grinned winningly at the audience. The gentleman stood up again, and I pulled behind Sheila at the full extent of her stretched arm. The rest of the audience stood and filed out . "Thank you, Frances, for an intelligent and excellent presentation. "... And thank you, Sheila for convincing us to wait for it. "Frances has amply demonstrated her grasp of the project technicalities, and I sincerely doubt that Fred could have given a better presentation. "On a personal note, Frances, when you possess true expertise - as I am sure you do - there is no need to don flirtatious garb to capture or retain an interested audience." He reached past Sheila and grabbed my fingers, and air-kissed over them. He then turned around and followed his colleagues. Sheila was smiling like the cat that got the cream. "I think that went very well!" she declared, and grabbed my head to kiss me. I was taken by surprise after an exhale, and despite enjoying the kissing, the kiss lasted so long that I feared death by smothering. She broke the kiss, and I breathed in gratefully. Sheila stared at me intently. I felt uncomfortable. "What? What is it?" I demanded in a squeaky voice. "You know, Frances, I think I might be a dormant lesbian ... or bi, at least. "I believed I was kissing a beautiful, slutty woman - and thoroughly enjoying it!" "Oh, no !" I answered. "I hope you're not turning into another Barbara!" "Maybe I am." She grinned wolfishly at me. "You know very well that I had to divorce Barbara because she got too enthusiastic that way?" I reminded her. "I wi'll never permit you to divorce me, Frances!" she intoned in a deep voice. "Sheila, pull yourself together. I am Fred. Frances doesn't exist any more than Fifi exists!" "Maybe you're right, Frances," Sheila allowed, and a far-away expression filled her face. I sighed. "Can you drive me back to Barbara's house. I had to promise her that she could play with Fifi, if she let me free for the presentation." Sheila rapidly returned to Earth. "Drive you over to that woman - so she can play with Fifi ??? You must be mad!" "Look, Sheila, I did promise - and we'll not find out whether we got the contract before tomorrow at the earliest." "You might have promised - but I didn't - and why were you over there in the first place - And playing Fifi with her - You said that part of your life was over?" Sheila stared me down in silent accusation. "Look, Sheila, it wasn't my idea. Do you think I would even think about Barbara with a very important presentation needing my immediate presence? Barbara chloroformed and kidnapped me. I woke up hours later dressed as Fifi in bondage ..." "That bloody woman!" shrieked Sheila. "We've got her now. You must call the police! See how she likes imprisonment ..." "Stop, stop, stop, Sheila! Karl was killed in a car crash last night. Barbara was rudderless - temporary insanity - she couldn't have been rational. "I won't call the police, or make a complaint," I insisted. "... And I do want to keep my promise - but I don't want to do what I promised. Please, say you will drive me over to Barbara's house?" I looked at her pleadingly, and she looked at me thoughtfully. "Yes!" she exclaimed suddenly. "You can tell Barbara, that there will be two women playing with Fifi today!" she concluded. I looked at her sadly. "Please, Sheila, this outfit is not of my choosing. Frances doesn't exist. really she doesn't. Try to believe that I'm simply in Halloween drag, and I can't wait to return to normal male clothing - that clothing which Barbara admitted to scattering in our driveway - the silly cow." "We'll see ..." said Sheila ominously. "I don't see why Barbara should have all the fun." Sheila's brows knotted in concentration as I climbed into her car. I barely noticed the catcalls from a group of idle youths in the car park. I settled into my seat, and my feet asserted their claims to freedom - ballet heels are not suited to long-term use, but as I expected Barbara had used the secret integrated locks to prevent removal by her slave. As I straightened up, Sheila grabbed my face, and repaired my make-up. "Must have the little maid-slave looking pretty for her mistresses!" she beamed at me. She pushed the discarded cap, apron, and lacy garters at me to put on. I groaned. - - - - 3. Reunion Sheila insisted that we pass by our house. She made me stay in her car as she quickly recovered my scattered clothing from the driveway. She slammed the wide-open door of my own car, before getting in beside me. "That woman is a drama queen!" she announced. "There was really no need to be deliberately untidy, when she kidnapped you!" And then realising the absurdity of what she had just said, she chuckled as she drove off. Barbara met the car in her driveway. I could tell she had been worried by my enforced absence from the presentation. I correctly assumed that she hadn't moved since we left her outside her garage. I leant across and kissed Sheila quickly, before getting out quickly. I tottered hurriedly over to Barbara, and we hugged like long-lost friends. Barbara burst into joyful tears, and absent-mindedly began to tie my hands behind my back. "Barbara, Sheila agrees to let you borrow Fifi for a while, but she wants to stay with me?" I explained. Barbara had only seen me - everyone else was cosmetic background. She looked carefully at Sheila. "Hello, Sheila, I have been very rude. How are you?" Barbara pulled herself together. "Hello, Barbara, Fred is my husband now, you know? He is really too kind-hearted. "He insisted on giving you moral support, and I insisted on supervising your game!" Barbara smiled a welcoming smile. "Of course, my dear, and I'm very grateful to you and Fifi for being so understanding. Shall we go inside, and Fifi can bring us a cup of tea?" Sheila was stunned into silence and politely followed Barbara inside. Barbara showed Sheila into the lounge, and ordered tea. I smiled and turned to show Barbara my bound wrists. "You silly girl, Fifi, how do you get into so many scrapes?" she admonished as she freed my wrists, and then with a painful swat on my behind I was sent into the kitchen. As I served the tea, I could see that Sheila was still quietly belligerent, and conversation was stilted. It was time for me to be assertive. "Mistress Barbara, have you eaten today?" I demanded. Barbara was surprised and defensive. "Well, no. I don't think I have, but it doesn't matter in the least ..." she floundered. "Oh, yes it does matter mistress!" I asserted. "I shall make you a proper cooked dinner for you and for mistress Sheila!" I returned to the kitchen. Sheila was giggling quietly. "Is he always like that during your games?" she enquired. "Never!" replied Barbara. "I don't know what's come over the girl - I'm sure!" "Well, we're in for a treat. Fred can't cook. I hope he sees sense and brings sandwiches instead!" offered Sheila, and she giggled quietly. "What do you mean?" demanded Barbara. "I'll have you know that my Fifi can cook to Cordon Bleu standards, and offers a wide menu selection!" Barbara managed to look offended, and then giggled her infectious giggle. Immediately the hostility was eradicated as they giggled together, and then hugged. "I can see why Fred married you, Barbara!" Sheila declared as she surfaced above the giggles. "And I can see why Fifi married you, Sheila," returned Barbara as she sat back. "Honestly though, Barbara, at home I have to do all the cooking - Fred is helpless in the kitchen!" Barbara was thoughtful. "Do you enjoy cooking, Sheila?" "Yes, I do! ... "Oh, you mean ... Fred is trying to please me by enjoying my cooking?" "Of course you know that Fifi does not really enjoy being Fifi?" Barbara asked. "Fifi exists only to please me. Fifi pleases me, and Fred pleases you!" she continued. "That man is a diamond!" admitted Sheila as her tears began to drip. When I brought in the scrambled eggs on toast for two, the two women were tearfully hugging each other. "Mistress Barbara, we'll make all the arrangements for Karl. Give Sheila your address book, and she'll inform his relations ... won't you, Sheila?" Sheila nodded tearfully, Barbara looked at the scrambled eggs. "Where is your helping, Fifi?" "In the kitchen, mistress. I'll eat when you have finished." "Don't be silly, Fifi. We haven't started playing yet. Bring it here and sit with us!" "I am dressed for playing ... I don't know whether I'm coming or going..." I chuntered as I went to fetch my meal. Sheila tasted her eggs. "Cordon Bleu!" she exclaimed and laughed. Barbara joined in the laughter. "They are excellent scrambled eggs!" insisted Barbara, and Sheila suddenly stilled her laughter. "He doesn't know that you told me about his cooking," she decided. "He's still protecting my ego?" When I returned and sat down, I was submerged under two tearful women trying to hug me. - - - - "Playtime!" shouted Barbara, "Yes, mistress," I acknowledged. "Fifi, you didn't even try to curtsey. That's five points onto your punishment score." "Yes, mistress," I answered with a wobbly curtsey. "I know you're rusty, Fifi, you must practice in your spare time, From now on less-than-perfect curtseys will add to your score." "Yes, mistress," I answered with another wobbly curtsey. "Five more points! You must be doing it deliberately. Do you enjoy punishments?" "No, mistress," I answered with a wobbly curtsey. "Five more points!" exclaimed Barbara. "Barbara, you're a sadist," Sheila accused. "Does it show?" asked Barbara, and laughed. Sheila joined in the laughter. "Sheila, if you're going to stay, you'll have to be an honorary apprentice sadist. We can't have you giving physical or moral support to this maggot. Is that Ok with you?" "Actually, Barbara, I do feel inclined to copy you. This is something I would like to explore. When Fred became Frances for the presentation, I was really turned on by her, and I felt dominant. Perhaps this is what I want?" I groaned as my wife admitted her leanings. "Five more points!" shouted Barbara. "You'll never manage to divorce me, Fifi!" shouted Sheila. I groaned again. "Five more points!" shouted Barbara, and both women laughed. - - - - "Stand still!" commanded Barbara as I hung uncomfortably from the lacing bar. "But, mistress, I can't balance in ballet heels with a spreader bar holding my ankles apart." "Well, the best solution might be to suspend you completely while we retighten your corset. How you managed to loosen it is beyond me." Barbara chuntered as she seemed to be trying to cut through my waist. I felt the bar rising as the winch motor turned. My tip-toes barely reached the floor, and I swung like a pendulum every time the laces were jerked ever tighter. "He doesn't seem to like the corset very much?" Sheila observed quietly. "It's Fifi - call her 'her' and 'she', please Sheila - she is my maid slave Fifi - "Fifi has agreed what can be done to her. I know what I cannot do, but tight-lacing a corset to reduce her fat belly is definitely allowed!" She gritted her teeth for a final tug. "When I married Fred - er Fifi - I was stunned by his - her slim waist. It must have been all your corset training. She can hardly breathe at all. Her waist would make any wasp jealous," observed Sheila. "I really wanted to have her lower ribs removed to properly improve the hourglass, but that would have broken one of the rules," sighed Barbera. "What rule?" perked Sheila. Barbara knotted the laces and turned to answer. "No lasting physical damage!" she replied as she lowered the lacing bar. "No piercings - not even for ear rings. No permanent make-up. No hair dye. The list goes on, and then the No-go treatments. No breath control. No risk of illness. "Then there's no hormone treatments allowed - I often wonder exactly who is in charge. Tight corsets are allowed, so I make the most of the corsets," Barbara mused. "You really like tight corsets - don't you, Fifi?" asked Barbara. "No, mistress," I replied with a quiet gasp. "Fifty points for failing to curtsey after a reminder!" shouted Barbara. "You cow, Barbara," interposed Sheila with a grin. "Fifi can't possibly curtsey - strung up like a chicken!" "I know. It's great. Isn't it, but I have to justify torturing her somehow," Barbara snickered, and my two wives hugged in their alliance against me. "You know, Barbara, what you do to Fifi is good for Fred. He told me - after he explained to me about Fifi - that his stress levels were completely reset after a session with you. He was an IT manager with that big company, and they just kept piling responsibility onto him. Many of his colleagues had breakdowns, and were simply replaced by other sacrificial managers, but Fred was able to carry on and on - Thanks to Fifi - and of course thanks to you." "Yes, Sheila, he told me how it helped as well. Of course, I used that to my own advantage, and had my live-in maid slave cum torture slave." "When he divorced you, and started his own consultancy business, he got all the stress without any of the relief," Sheila mused aloud. Barbara caught Sheila's eye, but gagged me before continuing. "I wanted to offer stress-relief to Fifi, but she refused firstly because she was withdrawing from me after the divorce, and then after you were married, loyalty to you was the main factor." Barbara paused, and then made the effort. "Now your inclinations are developing, you will be able to provide Fifi with stress relief!" Barbara betrayed her own ambitions. "That was going through my mind as well!" admitted Sheila. "But I was hoping you might coach or train me as a dominant. I think we have become friends, Barbara. We will need to see each other quite a lot to train Fifi properly." Barbara kissed Sheila on the cheek, and Sheila grabbed Barbara's head and kissed her hard on the mouth. I then watched in the lacing mirror as my two wives behaved like lesbians behind me. I had expected to be tortured or 'punished' as Barbara would say, but I was ignored and forgotten all evening. The two wives had retired to another room to become more intimate. I stood there gagged and spread under the lacing bar. My arms began to ache, and then became painful, and then became numb. My feet complained all the time, and I was able to give them some relief by hanging my weight on the lacing bar easing one foot at a time. It seemed an eternity. I could easily imagine what the girls were doing, and that caused my cock cage to also become an irritant. I was edged all evening. I was staring into the lacing mirror, and seeing a beautiful, gagged, slutty, French maid bound spread-eagled in pain, and I was using audible clues from across the corridor to help imagine what activities were taking place. It was an agony of frustration as well as physical pain. Late in the evening two exhausted, dishevelled and apologetic maidens came to rescue me. "Sorry, Fifi. We got a little carried away," Barbara apologised, and I gurgled around my gag in response to demonstrate that I was still alive. They plucked the gag out - and after so long, the rubber stole skin from inside my mouth. They unfastened me and helped me to sit down on a chair. A glass of water enabled me to talk. "Sheila, we need to be in the office by eight tomorrow!" I gasped in short breaths. Sheila promptly came down from her cloud. "Oh, God, yes. Barbara, we have to go home and get ready in case the client want to discuss a contract. We will have to be ready for anything." "Yes, of course, Sheila. None of Karl's trousers will fit Fifi - He is - he was - so much shorter than Fifi." "Don't bother about that, Barbara. Fifi can go home as she is. Can you let me have the keys to her corset and her boots? We'll transform Fifi back into Fred at home. The two women frogmarched me to Sheila's car - they had to, because I could hardly stand - much less walk. "I'll ring you tomorrow," Sheila promised Barbara, and then in a sexy voice promised, "We'll all meet up again as soon as possible!" Barbara and Sheila kissed endlessly, and I was ignored. I felt slighted, but hey, I loved Sheila and I am fairly sure that I still loved Barbara - but don't tell Sheila! Suddenly the flying gravel announced that we were speeding homewards. - - - - 4. Back to Work The first thing I did at home was to gulp down lots of tap water, such a thirst and sore mouth, and then, of course I desperately need to pee. Sitting on the toilet to pee in my own home was a little bit strange. I wasted too much paper drying off the cage, and searched out Sheila - she had gone straight to our bedroom. "Sheila, for god's sake get this corset and these damn shoes away from me!" I gasped. Sheila did not react as I had hoped, She hugged me with one arm behind my neck and the other fondling my bum. "Oh, no!" I thought to myself. "Darling - since you are already dressed to kill - and since you must be exploding in randiness - and since I both need and want to experiment - I want you to make mad passionate love to me!" she purred. "Yes, yes, my darling. Just help me get out of this lot, and I'll make you walk funny for the whole of next week!" I answered hopefully. "No, darling, you don't understand. I want Fifi to make mad passionate love to me - "Fred can wait for another day!" she intoned. "But my darling, You will have to take this terrible cage away - at the very least!" I began to haggle. "Agreed!" Sheila shouted in triumph. "Then it's all settled!" That was the end of my haggling. She already had the cage key in her hand, and as soon my tenderised male member was free, she dragged me on top of her onto the bed. - - - - The following morning, I was up early, but Sheila was being lazy. I watched the clock worriedly and then hobbled to the bedroom to wake her. "Sheila, darling, time is wasting. We have lots to do, before we can go to the office. Please, get up!" I murmured gently, and her eyes opened and swept past the clock to fix on my face. She yawned happily and smiled at me. "I thought it was all a dream ..." she mused, "but here is Fifi waking me with breakfast in bed - wait a moment, Fifi ... where have you put my breakfast?" She stared at me accusingly. "Don't be silly, Sheila. Today is a working day. You must get this gear off me. I had to sleep in all of it, because you just passed out when we finished our lovemaking ..." "Yes, yes, Fifi, what wonderful lovemaking - you quite wore me out, you little, sexy hussy, you! "I'm too tired to get up yet - wake me in an hour. Put Fred's clothes in my car, I'll skip breakfast and drive us both to the office. Don't worry - we'll be the only ones there at first. I have your keys in my bag ..." Sheila's eyes closed, and I shrugged helplessly. I didn't want breakfast either - any food at all would never fit into my compressed stomach. I selected a complete outfit for Fred to wear, and put the suitcase in Sheila's car. Then I wandered into the bathroom, and looked at Sheila's pharmacy collection. It was all strange to me, and I had to read all the labels. Eye shadow remover. Lipstick remover. I wasn't sure what any of it was so I piled them all into another suitcase, and suddenly remembered Sheila's dressing table. I harvested all the displayed bottles into the suitcase, and stashed that in the car as well. I knew that Sheila was manipulating me. She obviously planned to keep Fifi for as long as possible. But I wasn't happy to be Fifi, and I was determined to stay free of Fifi as soon as I could obtain my freedom. No pleading- no crying would change my mind: Fred would return and Fred would stay. Sheila was late up. I shook her several times, but she always wanted another few minutes. "If we aren't in the office when they phone, we'll miss out on the contract by default!" I shouted in the stage whisper that the damned corset enforced. "Why didn't you say before?" shouted Sheila as she sprang out of bed, and grabbed at her office clothes. Sheila broke her own record for getting ready, and dragged me out frantically hobbling in the killer boots behind her. "Why didn't you wait for me in the car?" she accused me as I collapsed into the passenger seat, "We'll only just get there in time for the call, even if I break every speed limit on the way!" she complained to me. I said nothing - I was too busy hanging on to the safety handle all the way to the office. We arrived in her reserved parking spot with one minute to spare. I tried to avoid eye contact as some of our employees walked past us into the office. Sheila finished the quick repair job to her make-up, and dabbed different pens and brushes at my face. "You'll have to be Frances again this morning, darling," she coached me, as we hurried inside. I was too slow hobbling in those stupid boots, so Sheila abandoned me and raced to be near the phone in my office. I ran the gauntlet of the general office. Everybody was already at their desks, and everybody was curious about the stranger. The staring felt physical. I adopted avatar mode, and ignoring all my aches and pains, I swept though the general office like a catwalk model. I had my own private office in my sights, and was about to get there, when Paul stepped in front of me blocking my path. "Excuse me, madam. You aren't showing your pass?" he challenged, and everyone in the general office left their desks to edge forward and spectate. I looked around into familiar faces having unfamiliar expressions ranging from lust through jealousy to pure aggression. I turned to Paul apologetically. "I'm sorry, I don't have a pass." I gasped weakly. "Then I'm sorry," said Paul, "you'll have to leave. If you want an appointment, see the receptionist - she starts work in half an hour. This way, if you please!" he ordered, and the crowd separated to make a guard of honour - or double firing squad towards the door. "You don't understand," I pleaded. "I came in with Sheila. She's in Fred's office waiting for me," I insisted. Paul was still hesitant. "Has Sheila come in yet?" he asked the generality and received several nods and mumbles. "Nevertheless you could be just anybody tail-gating Sheila. Do you have any identification?" Paul challenged me, and of course, I had nothing - no handbag - no pockets - just the clothes I stood in, so I shook my head. "Just who are you, then!" Paul demanded, and I had to give him an answer - Daphne was poised to ring for the police. "I am Frances Cardew," I pronounced proudly. "I am assistant to Fred Bingley ..." "Frances, get your sorry ass in here!" shouted at full volume from my office door. "You can be introduced to the troops later - we have the new client on the phone, and he insists on talking to you. Get in here at once, you lazy girl!" I tottered to my office at top speed and the general office subsided to normal with guilt-filled expressions on every face. With the door closed behind me, I quickly thanked Sheila for rescuing me. "It's the MD and Head of tech on a conference call. They want Fred to confirm all the aspirations and promises that Frances made during the presentation." Shelia handed me the phone. "Hello, Sir Ivor, Good Morning Gordon," I croaked and wheezed little gasps as I tried to force Fred's usual bass voice out of my tortured lungs. "Are you alright?" asked Ivor with concern in his voice. "Just a touch of cold, I think," I replied gasping. "No wonder he didn't give the technical presentation, Gordon?" continued Sir Ivor. "I'll keep this short to save your voice ... Do you ratify all that your assistant ... Frances - that's right ... Frances said at the technical presentation." "Indeed yes, Sir Ivor. We worked on all the details very closely. We were as one mind on every detail." I gasped, and there was a brief pause as they talked privately, and then ... "Well, Fred ... and Sheila, we are awarding the contract to you - paperwork to follow. We want you to start immediately - send invoices for all the work done before the contract is signed off ... and ... Gordon agrees with me ... we want Frances to oversee the project - she's damned good, and we both like her. We know how busy you are Fred ... this will give you a bit of a break. Bye for now ..." "Bye, Sir Ivor ... Gordon!" Sheila had snatched the phone from me, and broken the connection. "Sheila, I was going to make some sort of explanation why Frances could not do the work, and ..." I started to protest. "I know exactly what you were going to do, Frances. You were going to lose us this contract. You heard them specify that they wanted Frances to supervise the project. Do you want to offend our best clients as soon as they give us the contract?" she accused me. "But, Sheila, that means I will have to be available as Francis for the next three years - even more if they renew the maintenance contract ! No, Sheila. No contract is worth that!" I paused to gather my breath. I asserted strongly, "I shall ring back and tell them that Frances has been fired for suspected industrial espionage - yes they'll like that, and I'll tell them that Fred will definitely be available to supervise!" "You're a fool, if you think that will work. Sir Ivor only trusts sparingly, and only deals with companies that he trusts. Any pathetic excuse will destroy his trust and lose us the contract. You know we need this contract! The last quarter has seen half our clients go under. Money is short - we need Sir Ivor's contract - Don't throw it away. Just think about it for a few minutes. I'll send for some coffee." Sheila had taken control of the situation. After five minutes of useless thinking in circles, I admitted defeat. Sheila was right. Finances were fragile. The new contract was huge - a lifesaver. I didn't want the company that we had striven so long to build to go under because of my delicate ego. Frances was easily passable as a woman - I would need lessons on make-up - I had never done it to myself. Anyway, Frances need only show up once a week at the most. I cheered up. "Maybe most of Frances's supervising could be by telephone - remote control - so no dressing up! Yeah, that might work! ... I suddenly felt relieved. Sheila had left me alone while she went off managing things. I thought I was safe - when suddenly my secretary burst into my office with an armful of files and post. "I'm sorry, dear," she apologised, "I thought you were with Sheila. Would you like to wait in Sheila's office instead - this is Fred's office - you shouldn't be in here alone!" I recovered enough to answer her. "I am Frances, Fred's assistant. This is the best place for me just now," in my soft voice. My secretary gave me a hard look. "See here, Frances. I am Fred's secretary, and I don't need an assistant!" I chuckled and soothed her. "You misunderstood, miss. I'm a techie assistant, you'll work for me as well as Fred." "We'll see about that!" she challenged belligerently, "I don't work for assistants!" Just then Sheila walked in. I think she heard the last exclamation. "Susan, this is Frances. Frances is the new technical director - acting as Fred's assistant. Frances helped Fred with the latest technical proposal, which has won us the new contract. Frances will be working from Fred's office - we'll get another desk in here easily. You, Susan, will be secretary for both Fred and Frances. Frances is cleared at the highest level, so you can give Frances any file and every correspondence." Susan appeared confused then brightened. "Sorry, miss Frances, I misunderstood. "Are you the same sensational girl, who is the talk of the conference centre?" she asked outright, and I blushed as I remembered. "I don't normally dress like this!" I protested. "Of course not, miss. You just felt that a sexy outfit might just swing the balance?" "That thought was very far from my mind," I protested. "I expect to be more modestly dressed in future." I looked at Sheila, and received a welcome confirmatory nod. Susan smiled and left, and I looked at Sheila. "Let's get me cleaned up. The clothes and chemicals are in the boot of your car. "I'm looking forward to returning to Fred." I sighed in expectation. "No, that can't happen yet!" Sheila protested. "Frances walks in - Frances must walk out! Fred walking out will stir up trouble. Tell you what - I can unlock your boots so you can ease your feet until we leave - after I've introduced you to everybody, and if you stand and lean over your desk, I can unlock and loosen your corset - but it will have to be retightened when we leave!" "Why does it have to be retightened when we leave? I don't understand." "Because that's my condition for loosening it now, dummy. "Get used to it Frances! I'm in charge now!" Sheila punctuated her statement with a slap on my behind and a quick peck on my cheek. She stared at my face for a few seconds. "Oh, what the heck!" she vented before she seized my head and kissed me full on the lips. "I wish you'd do that more often to Fred!" I sulked, and she laughed at me. "Fred? Who's Fred? ... Frances is my flavour of the month!" I looked downcast so she kissed me again.