Mrs Cavendish
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Mrs Cavendish Sequel free porn video
Mrs Cavendish - Sequel
© Titania Midsummer - 2021
Intro
Paula Hanson recently wrote a very good story entitled "Mrs Cavendish."
You must read it prior to this. Following is my version of sequel or
conclusion. Paula, if you don't like this for any reason just contact me
and I will delete it asap. No need to explain.
Day 5 - Continued.
Painting doesn't take much concentration so whilst doing it I tried to
work out what was going on, and why. Clearly Julia was trying to feminise
me, or at least get me into girls clothes. That gave me mixed feelings,
humiliation on the one hand but a certain titillating thrill on the
other. She also seemed to be attracted to me as evidenced by that very
sexy kiss right on my lips. My options were to walk out now and never
come back, or else to carry on and see what would happen. I decided to
stay based on that sexy kiss, and also that Julia was clearly very rich
and perhaps some of that money might rub off onto me.
Having decided to stay, I planned how to act. So far I had been very shy.
If I started to act as if I wanted to cross dress then the sudden change
might arouse some suspicion. But I also wanted to find out more about
her. So next time we dined together I was determined to ask some
questions.
I finished the painting, carefully washed the brushes and put all the
stuff away in the tool-shed. The days working in the sun had given me a
bit of a tan, and I felt and probably looked a lot fitter as a result of
the hard work. I had read somewhere that fresh sweat on a man smells sexy
to most women. Which is why when I picked up my T-shirt I didn't put it
on straight away but walked close by her.
"Hi Mrs Cavendish, that job's finished. You wanted me to help prepare
dinner, but I think I should clean up first."
"Yes Matt. You know where the bathroom is."
She must have smelt me and I'm sure I heard a sharp intake of breath as I
did. I knew my hair was dirty so under the shower I shampooed it and used
the conditioner. I kept my back to the door and as I anticipated, when I
got out my dirty sweaty clothes had disappeared and there was a
replacement pile in their place. This time no blouse and slacks, but
blouse and skirt.
I had half expected this, but not quite so early. Naturally I wrapped the
towel around my waist and went looking for Julia to complain. I found her
and expostulated, becoming quite red in the process.
"Matt, as I've already explained I don't have any boy's clothing in the
house. Put on what I've left for you, I think you will look really
charming in it. I have another reason. If I get a visitor or a delivery
then from a distance you will look like a woman, close up like a boy in
drag and hence probably gay. Either way I avoid rumours of having a man
sleeping here, which would be dreadful for my reputation. If you don't
like it, then you can walk home naked."
What could I say? All I could do was sniff and wipe my eyes and shuffle
back to the bathroom. There I blow dried my hair and put it up in a bun.
The blouse was a pale yellow satin that went well with the fairly full
dark green skirt. Underneath a pair of briefs, also in green with yellow
lace trim. The shoes were plain black pumps with slightly raised heels.
To my surprise I found myself disappointed that there was no brassiere.
The blouse had ruffles across the chest so looking at my reflection it
could be covering a girl with very small breasts. That stirred me down
below. Fortunately the fairly tight briefs and full skirt completely
masked that telltale swelling.
Returning to help prepare dinner with jaw set I put on the apron and
started following Julia's directions. Chopping vegetables and such like.
Once dinner was ready she said "Now Matt, take off that apron, let your
hair down, It looks good in a pony-tail, have a glass of wine and try to
stop sulking." I'm not the kind that can sulk for any length of time, so
was happy to sit and chat over the meal. When the opportunity presented I
asked
"I understand Julia that your husband died not all that long ago. Can you
talk about it now? What was he like? What was his name?"
A strange expression flickered across her face. Then she composed
herself.
"His first name was Bismark. Not uncommon for someone born in South
Africa as he was. He was a very successful businessman. Mostly import-
export which I confess I never followed closely. It kept him more and
more busy so we were drifting apart. I was shocked when he died, but now
it seems just as well as we were probably heading for some sort of
separation."
"So how did he die?"
"He was on a flight to Beijing for some business deal. On board he
collapsed so they offloaded him in Bangkok. By that time he was already
dead. The doctors there said it was a coronary. I guess that was always
on the cards as he was a big man, somewhat overweight, very little
exercise, and smoked heavily."
"Did he know he was at risk?"
"Yes, but only from a visit to his G.P. a week before his planned trip.
He was prescribed blood thinner pills but had only just started taking
them when he left."
The conversation moved on, and after a couple of glasses of wine I
broached the important subject.
"Julia, clearly you want me to dress and look like a girl. Please tell me
why. What is the real agenda?"
"Matt. I'm not ready to explain right now. But if you cooperate and start
to enjoy being different, then I will tell you. I can certainly help you
enjoy the change."
With that she stood up, took a step round the table and lent over me. Her
dress was quite low cut and the top fell forward a little so that I could
see down, see half her breasts, see the flimsy bra which only just
covered her nipples. She let me gaze for a second or so, then put a hand
under my chin, lifted my head, and kissed me full and long on the mouth.
Her lipstick tasted nice.
It took me several long breaths to get my composure half back. I had
nothing say. She sat down and broke the silence.
"That was nice," she said. "Now you are definitely staying the night. I
have a guest bedroom next to the bathroom you were using where you will
be quite comfortable, I'm sure. You are not walking back to town, but you
should ring Christine, else I will."
Staying the night was a fait accompli. There was no way I could avoid it
and I really did not want to. So all I could say "Thank you. I'll ring
her now."
On the phone Christine didn't seem all that surprised, just laughed and
said, "Be proper. No unwelcome advances."
Julia said, "It's still a bit early. You may want to read in bed. Let me
show you the library and you can choose some books. Oh. And I've left
some nightwear for you and clothes for the morning."
The library was well stocked. A big business book section, others on
fashion, gardening, and travel. Also a lot of novels amongst which I
noticed what seemed to be a complete set of Agatha Christie murder
mysteries. Some seemed to be well used so I chose a couple of them on the
grounds that if they had been worth rereading they must be good. One was
'The Mysterious Affair at Styles'.
I was now no longer upset by the ongoing feminisation process so was not
surprised when in the guest bedroom I found a long satin nightgown on the
pillow. The fabric faded between cream and a pale orange and the garment
was certainly not cheap. I stripped, taking care to hang skirt and blouse
in the wardrobe. I found what I assumed to be a dirty clothes basket into
which I dropped my briefs. In the wardrobe was a satin dressing gown in
apricot to match the nightdress so that I could safely pop out to go to
the bathroom. Also hanging there was a black garment with white lace
trim. I assumed this was my 'clothes for the morning'. It turned out to
be a French maid's outfit. Short skirt with a strappy top. In the second
drawer was a white mini-apron and white cap. Also net stockings,
suspender belt, silk French knickers (white with black lace trim), and a
brassiere. This on examination incorporated padding, falsies as they are
called. There was a note pinned to the suspender belt advising me to put
the knickers on over, not under, it and to roll on the stockings so as to
avoid pulling on them.
In the top drawer was an assortment of cosmetics, a hairbrush, ribbons,
some bobby pins and hair clips. I was slightly shocked to find some
condoms there as well.
Just slipping the nightgown on over my head I found erotic, and I was
further stimulated by the thought of wearing the maid's dress in the
morning. Once in bed I tried to read but the image of Julia's decolletage
and the feel of the nightgown kept distracting me. I thought of
masturbating but fearing the mess and cleaning up decided to postpone it
till the morning. What with physical tiredness plus the wine I put the
book down, turned off the light and slept.
I dreamt that Julia wearing something slinky had climbed into bed beside
me, had slid her hand under the hem of my nightdress and was caressing my
penis. I had an unrestrainable erection and then ejaculated. She had a
cloth, wiped me clean, then faded away. Or was it a dream?
Day 6
I woke up at first light and lay there wondering about that dream. I
certainly wasn't feeling as randy as the evening before, but there was no
stain nor wetness on the sheets or on my nighty. It was too early to make
a noise showering so I read a lot more of the novel.
After an hour I got up, donned the dressing gown and went to the
bathroom. Back in the bedroom, shaved and with my shampooed hair in a bun
I started to put on the maid's uniform. The French Knickers were smooth
and sexy but not very tight. By the time I had fully dressed, including
rolling on the net stockings and clipping them to the suspenders I was
randy again. Luckily the skirt was quite full, like my dress last night,
so my emotions were not visible, or so I thought.
Julia came into the kitchen not long after I had started preparing
breakfast. She looked at me, dropped her eyes to below my waist, and said
"Matt, we are going to have to do something about your body shape. Some
parts of you are far too masculine." I blushed. She smiled. "I mean of
course your hairy legs. Go straight back into the bathroom and shave your
legs and under your arms."
I was happy to comply. I was no longer pretending to object and to be
shy, instead I was looking forward to the process of turning into a girl.
The rest of the day was uneventful. I did housework all morning and took
instructions for labouring work over lunch. It was agreed then that I
would dine and sleep in the house for another night. In the afternoon I
changed into my old T-shirt and shorts for the afternoon. At 5:00 I was
allowed to stop and went to shower and change.
Of course there was a fresh outfit for me. This time a summer dress.
Printed cotton, basically white with foliage and yellow flowers.
Sleeveless, wide straps, curved neckline. For underneath white briefs, a
white padded bra. Open toed sandals.
When I emerged Julia nodded approvingly. It was then that I made my first
positive step. "Julia, there are a lot of cosmetics in my room. Do you
mind if I try them out?"
She raised her eyebrows quizzically. "Matt, That's a marvellous
suggestion. Of course use them. Let me teach you how to put them on."
And so she did. She stressed that as I was young strong colours and
heavy makeup was wrong. So we started with a pale pink glossy lipstick
and lightly rouged cheeks, which was the easy part. Then came the eye
make-up. This was tricky but I got the hang of putting on just a touch of
mascara and eye shadow.
Looking in the mirror I saw a pretty young girl looking back at me. I was
delighted and so was Julia.
Julia said, "Now let's put your hair in a pony-tail. I can tell you have
washed it so I'll pass on insisting on a bun. I just wish I had some
clip-on earrings to lend you but I don't. Tomorrow you will have to let
me pierce your ears and then you can borrow some of my jewellery. Also
some nail polish would help."
That latter hint I took so I sat down and painted both fingernails and
toenails in a pale pink gloss.
I then looked at myself again, then did a pirouette to spin up my skirt.
I had changed. Not merely by how I looked, but I felt far more confident.
As a new young woman I felt I could take on the world. Quite different
from my old shy self with an inferiority complex.
That evening at dinner I probed again. "Tell me Julia, after Bismark died
what did you do? I mean about the funeral etcetera."
She looked uncomfortable. "Matt, I really don't want to talk about it. I
hate flying so I didn't go to Bangkok. I organised to have the body
cremated and the ashes sent here. We had a small wake here for his close
friends. Now let's talk about something else."
I asked, "Julia, back to my question from last night. I'm now enjoying
being a girl, but what is the attraction to you?"
Julia was quiet for a while, gathering her thoughts. "After Bismark I did
not want any male company at all. Most men are domineering, insensitive,
and rough. They don't know the difference between sex and love-making.
Girl-girl relationships are much to be preferred in many ways. However I
want to have it both ways. The gentleness of a female lover plus the
smell of a male and the feel of a penis inside me. I recallthat you told
me that you have never had sex with a girl, or boy either for that
matter. That means you are a clean slate. I can teach you to satisfy me,
and yourself too."
"Wow!" I thought. The promise of sex in the near future was certainly
attractive, but I had reservations about Julia's urge to control me.
The meal over, we both stood up. On impulse I reached out, took both her
hands in mine, pulled her gently towards me, and just as gently kissed
her. She responded, wriggled closer so I wrapped my hands around her
waist whilst still holding hers. That pushed her shoulders back and
breasts forward pushing into me. It felt nice. I held that position for a
few seconds, then let her go. Another act of self-confidence alien to the
old Matt.
As we broke apart I had another idea. "Julia," I said, "if I'm to be a
girl, I should have a girl's name. What do you think?"
She agreed. And after some discussion we decided upon "Miranda."
Now Julia took the lead.
"Miranda," it sounded odd being used for the first time, "Miranda, go to
your room, change into your nightdress, lie on your back, and don't touch
yourself."
So with my expectation making a pyramid inside my nighty I waited. It was
not for long before she entered wearing a satin dressing gown that
matched mine, except that hers was a creamy peach colour. She was
carrying a small bag from which she drew a black bandanna. "For this I
want to blindfold you," she said, and wrapped it around my head. "Now
stretch your arms behind your head." I did so, being uncertain what the
plan was. I felt something round my wrists and before I could react they
were pulled towards the bedhead. "Now bend your knees up." I felt a
couple of pillows stuffed under them and then something around my ankles.
Moving and pulling I realised I was bound with arms apart and ankles
together, the bonds fastened to the head and foot of the bed. I wasn't
scared, but intensely curious as to what was going to happen. There was
the faintest rustle which I guessed was her dressing gown being dropped.
Then she was on top of me, bare knees gripping my chest.
"Miranda, you will be much prettier with some body jewellery, and feel
prettier too. So I think we will start with earrings."
I tensed, anticipating a pair of painful needle stabs.
"Relax," she said, "I have some local anaesthetic."
I felt something cold on my ears, the stuff was probably in a roll-on
container. It had a sharp chemical smell.
Something brushed my mouth. She ordered me to gently lick and suck and I
realised it was her nipple. I could feel it swelling between my lips.
Then the other nipple had to be teased. I felt her arms or hands brushing
my cheeks. So that was when she pierced my ears and slipped in the little
rings. She kissed me on the mouth, then shifted forward to present
something to my face. It was a combination of soft hair and smooth skin
and had a powerful but not unpleasant smell. Her pussy.
"Now," she said, "stick your tongue out and explore me with it." I did,
and her taste was something special. Strong, special, like nothing I had
ever tasted before. I knew I was giving pleasure so I enjoyed it, else
the strong taste and smell might have been off-putting. I pushed into the
tunnel of her vagina and found a little lump at the top - her love
button. The more I worked the faster her breaths came, then she was
moaning and her vagina was squeezing my tongue. Finally I felt my nighty
being rucked up and my fully engorged penis was sucked deep inside her.
"Push!" she cried. "Fuck me! Fuck harder!" and I heaved my hips up again
and again, my bum leaving the sheets each time. I was afraid I might
throw her off me but like a rodeo rider she held on tight. It was during
this climatic period that the blindfold became somewhat dislodged so that
in the narrow gap below its edge I could see her pussy as she rode me.
Just above the hairline was a tattoo that read "I AM BISMARK'S BITCH." At
that very moment she orgasmed with a shriek and I could feel her vagina
squeezing and sucking me. I was shocked by what I had glimpsed, but it wa
too late to be turned off. I came with a series of enormous shudders.
As she came down off her high she noticed the cocked blindfold and
readjusted it. I doubted if she realised what I had seen. Soon she got
off me and I imagined I could hear her putting nightdress and dressing
gown back on. Then she lay down beside me. I could feel her warm body
through her soft slinky nightwear. She started to play with my cock.
Mopping up I guessed, but I got a faint whiff of the chemical smell from
before.
She said, "Thank you, that was lovely. And I think you enjoyed it too.
There should be something special about the first time a girl has sex,
but sadly they are so often disappointed. Their partner, usually a young
man, is too anxious, too quick."
She went on a bit longer, describing her own feeling during sex, and
continued to fiddle around my nether regions.
Then she said, "There you are. A bit more body jewellery which you will
find makes you feel prettier and can be quite sexy."
Later I found that I had four tiny rings through the top of my penis just
behind its head, and a larger one in my crutch.
She released the bonds from my ankles, took off the blindfold, freed my
wrists and put all the stuff back in her bag.
She gave a crooked smile and a last kiss on my lips. I was speechless and
in a moment she was gone.
As I drifted off to sleep various thoughts crisscrossed through my mind.
I had enjoyed the sex, but technically I had been raped. I was now no
longer a young girl. Julia had made a woman of me. Then I remembered that
tattoo. Her husband must have been a really nasty domineering arsehole. I
didn't remember any condom going or coming off. I guess she was on the
pill. I was looking forward to wearing earrings, but dubious as to the
purpose of the other rings.
Chapter 7
Waking up early I finished the Agatha Christie whodunit. The murderer had
used strychnine and the victim had died violently.
The French maid's uniform was hanging in my wardrobe and I supposed I
would be wearing it for the next few mornings. The first time it was fun,
now I thought it to be demeaning. It is always associated with
titillating men, not friends or lovers. To wear it again I would feel one
step away from prostitution. Anyway, I went to the bathroom, shampooed
and conditioned my hair, shaved my face and my legs and armpits again. I
examined the rings in my ears and body. "As least she didn't give me
nipple rings" I thought "But perhaps that comes later."
Back in my room to my relief the maid's uniform was gone. Instead there
was a fresh set of clothes waiting for me. Short denim skirt, sky-blue
crop-top with short sleeves, round neckline, the usual underwear, and
white sneakers. Thinking about the neckline I wished I had real breasts
so that I could wear V-tops and show a little cleavage. Oh well, one
can't have everything. There was also a necklace. This was the first time
that Julia had lent me any jewellery. It was choker style of wide gold
filigree and fastened at the back with two loops that clicked
magnetically together. "That's cool" I thought. My mother would complain
about clips that were very difficult to connect or disconnect. This one
just needed a sharp tug to pull it apart. I put on mascara and lipstick,
a light cheek rouge and I did my hair in a pony-tail. That really
complimented the outfit. Very young-girlish. I felt pretty and in a good
mood.
Over breakfast Julia made no reference to the evening before. But she did
announce the day's program.
"Miranda, I shall be out most of the day so once the washing up is done
you can have the day off. However most of the house is out of bounds
including the library. So I suggest you go and choose a few books to keep
yourself amused." I did, and chose a pile of fashion magazines as well.
I had just finished the washing up when Julia reentered the kitchen. She
had dressed very carefully and looked very beautiful.
"Julia! I exclaimed. "You have always looked good but this morning you
look absolutely stunning. What are planning?"
"Thank you Miranda. First I'm getting my hair done by your friend
Caroline. She will be pleased to hear how you are developing. After that
is my business."
If the next time I visited Caroline I presented as a girl at least she
would be forewarned. That was good. I felt a tiny bit miffed to be
excluded from the rest of Julia's plans, but the comment was quite in
character.
"Now," she said, "Come into the garden. I want to show you something." So
we went outside and along the side of the house. We stopped, she turned
me with my back to the wall and from behind fiddled with my necklace.
"I can't see anything," I said and turned round. Then I realised there
was a chain hanging down my back and disappearing through a hole in the
wall.
Julia said "I'm sorry Miranda. I know how curious you are and I just
don't want you wandering around the house. That's a long chain, long
enough for you to get into the kitchen for lunch and something to drink.
But no further."
I was shocked, mortified, humiliated. And then furious.
"This is dreadful!" I shouted. "You are chaining me up like a...." I was
going to say 'dog' but instead said ."..like a bitch!"
She drew a quick breath then as hard as she could slapped my face. Then
turned on her heel and strode off into the house.
I felt awful. I sat on the ground and did something Matt would never have
done. I cried.
I cried for some time. Eventually I stood up and began to evaluate the
situation. Feeling around the back of my neck I felt a padlock that
joined the last link to the two loops that clicked together. That was not
coming off till Julia returned with the key. I walked towards the corner
of the house pulling the chain behind me. I heard the front door slam and
saw Julia striding down the road. By her body language she was angry.
In kitchen the chain jerked tight just as I approached the door to the
passage. I did not even have access to a bathroom so I would have to pee
in the garden. Like a bitch. I wandered back outside and started around
the garden keeping the chain fully extended. Perhaps I could find
something in the toolshed to break it but the toolshed was out of reach.
I examined the chain. Each link had been made by bending a piece of thick
steel wire around until the ends met. The ends were not welded so given
sufficient leverage could be opened up. There was a pitchfork stuck in a
garden bed. One of its tines went through a link but I could find no
other tool I could use. Over beside the house I saw that the mortar had
come out between some of the bricks. I found a gap and chose a link a
little over a metre along away from my neck. Once wedged into the gap I
was able to get the pitchfork tine into it. I twisted and after some
retries I was able to twist the link enough to allow its neighbour to
pass through the gap. I was free, albeit with a metre of chain hanging
down my back.
So I went exploring in the house, taking care not to leave any traces.
Upstairs in Julia's study I found the story she had been writing. Reading
it quickly it was obviously autobiographical even though written in the
third person with the names changed. It described exactly how "Jane" had
poisoned her husband "Brian." It was prefaced by some horrific
descriptions of the mistreatment, the bashings, the humiliations she had
had to endure. It didn't discuss the option of divorce or just walking
out.
Should I have kept the document? I debated inwardly and came to the
conclusion that there was hardly enough evidence to convict, especially
as any jury would be very sympathetic. So I left it and continued
exploring. There was nothing more of interest so I went down into the
basement.
I found a little corner and there was a small pile of rat poison packets.
Some opened and empty. Also pestle and mortar and some solvents. Also
some pills. By the label they were prescription blood thinners. There
were several broken capsules. Julia must have been able to concentrate
the strychnine in the rat poison to fill some emptied capsules and then
was able to disguise the fact. As Bismark was just starting the course he
would not have been familiar with the look of the capsules.
I then went searching to find the end of the chain. There was a drum
which had obviously held the entire chain. Now it was two thirds
unrolled. The drum itself was tight up against the wall and a rod was
jammed between the spokes to stop it further unwinding. So all I did was
to take out the rod, unwind a few more metres which I judged would let
the chain extend to the toolshed, and put the rod back. Back outside I
buried the link I had trashed earlier. I went to the shed and using the
vice and other tools carefully half-opened the links on the two ends. A
bit like a Chinese puzzle it was. Then joined the links and used the vice
to close the gaps. It would need a good eye to see the workings. Back at
the hole I stuffed the extra few metres back through, and in the last
metre put a stick of wood through one of the links. When I pulled on the
chain the wood jammed across the hole. So there I was with no greater
range than at the start of the day. I figured Julia might never realise
what I had done.
There were many hours of the day left so I sat in kitchen reading and
flicking through the magazines.
Eventually I heard the front door opening. I put the magazine I was
reading down on the counter and looked steadfastly out of the window. I
heard Julia come in, she said something which was meant to be consoling,
and unlocked the padlock and let the chain fall to the floor. I stood up,
pulled off the necklace and dropped it in the sink, looked at her and
said one word.
"Murderess."
Then walked to Christine's without a backward look.
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