Warning: As well as the usual transvestite themes this story contains graphic descriptions of both hetro' and homosexual sex. It also deals with incest; so be warned. If you don't want to read this sort of stuff, you know where the OFF button is!

 

Consequences

by Belle Gordon

 

Chapter One

My decline into immorality and depravity began the morning I was summoned into the Headmaster's office. With only another week till the end of the school year, my class was not doing anything important. The exams were all finished and as final year students, we were spending our time researching for our futures, be they paid employment or third level education. At 17 (nearly 18) I was excited to be leaving school and starting a career in the real world. I had been accepted by a teaching hospital to study nursing, and assumed this was the reason for the summons.

On entering the Principles office, a room I had only ever visited once before, I saw middle aged man sitting in the only other chair. He wore a brown pin-strip suit with shiny knees and fiddled with a brown felt trilby hat. He looked ill at ease. The head master gestured towards him and said "Ashford, this gentleman would like a word with you."

'This gentleman' stood and offered me the chair. "I'm Chief Inspector Durham," he announced when I was seated, "and I'm afraid I have some sad news for you."

I could only offer an "Oh?" I was beginning to get a little alarmed. I'd never before had a visit from a Chief Inspector (or any other rank of policeman for that matter). And the fact that he had sad news was also worrying.

"Are you Andrew Ashford?" I nodded. "Of 'The Laurels', Grafton Lane?" Again I nodded my head. "Then it's my sad duty to inform you that your mother, Mrs Ashley Ashford, was killed in a road traffic accident at 8:30 this morning. She was pronounced dead on arrival at the county hospital and I would like you to accompany me there to make a formal identification of the body."

That was it. Talk about a bombshell? No effort to soften the blow or to couch the news in less harsh terms. It was simply an emotionless statement of fact, a brutally dry announcement that my beautiful mother was dead.

It took me several minutes to absorb what he had said and for the full impact to sink in. At first I thought it was some elaborate joke, an end of term prank, but when I looked at the two men I realized that they were deadly serious. Then I thought it must be some sort of mistake, a case of mistaken identity, but a senior policeman wouldn't waste his time or be so unfeeling unless he was absolutely sure. No this nightmare was real.

I began to cry. Silently at first, the tears running down my cheeks, then my sobs became uncontrollable and for many minutes I shook with grief. I vaguely heard the Head' ask his secretary to bring a glass of water and then felt a comforting arm round my shoulder and Mrs Cheshire was wiping my tears.

After a while I calmed down, I blew my nose, took a deep breath and said, "Ok, lets go." I could think of nothing else to say, my mind was numb. I was too shocked to think of all the questions I should be asking.

The drive to the hospital mortuary seemed to pass very quickly and I found myself standing in a cold smelly room with lots of steel doors along one wall. A man in a green hospital gown, a plastic apron and white Wellington boots consulted a clipboard then opened one of the doors. A stretcher was slid out upon which lay a shrouded body. The man pulled down the top two feet of sheet exposing the head and shoulders of a young woman. He glanced at the body then looked at me, indicating I should come and look. I took a deep breath and stepped forward. There lying on her back was my beautiful, beautiful mother. She looked so peaceful, as though asleep. There were no marks or wounds visible on her face or shoulders. Her red painted lips contrasted starkly with the deathly white pallor of her skin. Someone must have combed her hair I thought.

"Oh Mummy!" I cried. "What's happened to you? Please wake up; I want you to come home with me. You're going to be alright." I fell forward and frantically kissed her face eyes and lips. "Mummy, Mummy, wake up. It's Ok. Please, don't leave me. I miss you so much."

I felt strong arms lifting me away from her. The sheet was replaced and the stretcher silently disappeared into its locker. The door swung shut and that was the last time I saw my adorable mother. She was cremated three days later.

The Chief inspector, satisfied with my identification, left me in the charge of a young constable. He was very sympathetic and bought me a cup of tea in the canteen. "What happened?" I asked him.

"They were waiting at traffic lights when a truck swerved across the road and slammed into them. Your mother was killed instantly and the other woman is in intensive care"

Other woman? Then I remembered. Aunt Alice was with her. I had forgotten they were going to work together as they always did. "Oh, my God! Can I see her?" I asked. "She is all I have left now." More tears started to flow down my cheeks.

"I'll have a word with the doctor." He said. "I'm sure it'll be alright. But I think she is still unconscious."

A West Indian doctor opened the door of the I.C.U. and led me to her bedside. Aunt Alice was hooked up to lots of wires and tubes. Boxes of flashing lights blinked and clicked monitoring her vital signs. The top half of her head was swathed in bandages totally covering her eyes, only the tip of her nose and mouth visible.

"Is she going to he alright?" I asked.

"The next twenty four hours will be critical but we feel she has a good chance of recovery. Unfortunately her eyes have been severely damaged and I'm afraid she will be blind for the rest of her life. Also there could be some brain damage but we wont know for sure till she regains consciousness."

I was stunned. No only had I lost my mother but her sister was going to be physically and maybe mentally handicapped. The only two people in the world I could call family were gone or changed. My world had suddenly fallen apart.

 

Chapter Two

My mother was born 2 minutes and 35 seconds before her sister. The babies matched each other perfectly. Not only were they identical but they were also two of that small percentage of monozygotic twins that are a mirror image of each other. Meaning that my mother was right handed and Alice was left. Mother's hair whorls were clockwise; Alice's anticlockwise. The crown of mother's head was on the right side and Alice's on her left and so on. As they grew it became increasing difficult to tell them apart. Not only did they dress alike but their mannerisms and speech patterns were the same. Throughout their schooling they were constantly confused with each other, much to the teachers chagrin and their delight. Often they used their resemblance to their own advantage, swapping identities to suit their own ends.

It was as a result of this interchanging that I resulted. Alice had had a date with an older boy, a forth year medical student but wasn't able to go. As she didn't wish to disappoint him or risk losing him, Ashley agreed to take her place. At fifteen both girls were blossoming into stunning beauties and the subject of much attention from horny boys. Their hair was long and blond and during school hours invariably worn in a ponytail. Their bodies were acquiring womanly shapes with firm young breasts, shapely butts and long slender legs. In short they were every teenage boys wet dream.

The date started off perfectly normally, they went to the pictures and a pizza parlour then parked his car in a well known 'lovers lane'. Perhaps my mother was partly at fault for not discouraging the guy, but by allowing him to kiss her, his raging hormones took over and the resulting rape left her pregnant.

His name was Davy Chesterfield. He was from a wealthy and influential local family; a family who could ill afford to have such a scandal attached to their name. Consequently, the matter was hushed up and a substantial amount of money was paid for the baby's upkeep and to ensure silence.

Two days after the twins sixteenth birthday I was born. If anything the birth brought the girls even closer together. They shared the nursing and nurturing and to their credit they still managing to complete their schooling. Their parents, my grandparents, were a great support and without their help and the payola, things might not have been so easy.

I was named Andrew after my maternal grandfather, a man long dead by the time I was born. Throughout my childhood I was sickly and didn't thrive well. I inevitably contracted all the diseases that were going; measles, chickenpox, mumps etc and was prone to colds and flu's. Because of my failure to flourish properly from an early age, I was small, (I'm still only 5'9") with spindly arms and legs, small hands and feet and a skinny torso. I was sensitive and shy, and tended to avoid other peoples company. Despite this I was often complemented on how pretty I was, being frequently mistaken for a girl. (Much to my annoyance and blushing embarrassment, but to my mother's great joy). I had inherited their blond hair and china blue eyes as well as Mother's 'Angelina Jolie' lips. It was often noted how alike Mother and I looked.

Grandma, who had become a third mother to me passed away when I was twelve. She had been my daily companion and from her I had learnt how to cook and clean. I felt a huge loss at her going. Granddad had died years earlier, killed by the cigarettes he'd been enslaved to all his life. So from then on it was only the three of us. Neither mother nor Aunt Alice had shown any inclination to marry. It seemed the rape had turned them both against the entire male population, but neither did I think, were they lesbians. They were happy and content as two single girls with a shared child.

On completing school they found work together as sales assistants in a large department store. They worked diligently and competently and were soon promoted to senior sales assistants, a promotion that entitled them to certain perks, one of which was generous employee discounts. These they used to purchase all their clothing needs. Every item bought was duplicated. So that if one girl liked something she would buy a second knowing that the other would also like it. They dressed alike not to maintain their twin identities but because their tastes in nearly all things were identical.

After grandma's death I necessarily spent a lot of time on my own. When school ended at four o'clock I'd cycle home and engage myself with homework and a little house cleaning, which I was now expected to do. I'd prepare a meal for when the sisters arrived home from work at six thirty. Saturday's was a working day at the store, which meant the girls were gone all day. I used the day to do the weekly laundry, then spent the rest of it wandering round town or going to the cinema.

Sundays were our family days together and were very much looked forward to. If the weather was sunny and warm we'd often drive out into the country, exploring the nearby Cotswold Hills. We'd stop for a picnic at some picturesque spot or scenic viewpoint. They were without doubt the happiest of times.

 

 

Chapter Three

It was three months before Aunt Alice was discharged from hospital. She had regained consciousness on the fourth day after the accident and was moved into a general ward. She was seen by numerous specialists and many tests where done on her to determine her mental well-being. Fortunately it appeared that she had no serious or permanent brain damage but was suffering from retrograde amnesia, which meant she was unable to retrieve her long-term memory of events that occurred before the trauma to her brain. It was hoped that the amnesia would gradually disappear, and her full memory return, which was usually the case.

During her convalescence aunt Alice had been taught to use a white cane and had begun learning Braille. She underwent a course of physiotherapy to strengthen her muscles, which had become weakened from non-use. Also during this period the courts had awarded a huge sum of money as compensation. Fortunately she was not required to attend the court, as the action was uncontested: the haulage company accepting full responsibility. This meant that aunt Alice wouldn't need to worry about money again.

Since mother's death my life had become unfocused, I felt as though I was drifting around on an open sea with no compass. I had no direction or purpose to my life. When not at the hospital I would spend my days moping about the house, unable to concentrate on anything. I spent hours sitting in mom's bedroom staring at the things cluttering her dressing table. I opened the drawers of her vanity unit and examined her lingerie. I became intrigued and fascinated by the different materials and items. They were totally unlike those worn by a boy. For instance, I noticed that even though we both wore underpants, mine were boring cotton Y-fronts, whereas mom's and aunt Alice's were lovely soft silky things, adorned with ruffles of lace and tiny satin bows, and they came in many different styles: high cut, bikini, hipsters and French knickers. (Terms I only learnt later).

I closely studied her brassieres. I of course knew what their purpose was but had never looked closely at their construction. I discovered she was a size 36C and so, presumably, was aunt Alice. Like her panties her bras were of many and varied styles. I found that the bras often matched the panties and occasionally a suspender belt completed the set. These were also gorgeously decorated with lace and tiny bows and on some, little embroidered roses. Their colours ranged from sexy black through shades of pink, blue, violet, and scarlet to virginal white.

I looked in her wardrobe and closet and found her slips, nightgowns, blouses and dresses in sumptuous satins and silks, along with more mundane jeans, rayon skirts, cotton tops and soft lambs wool sweaters. In another location I discovered her many pairs of shoes. Like her underwear there was many styles and colours, from strappy sandals on spindle heels to sensible walking shoes with chunky heels.

One night I slept in mother's bed, and I found I derived a great amount of comfort from it; somehow feeling closer to her. When I buried my face in her pillow I could smell her lingering scent. Her room was permeated with her aromas, a mixture of perfumes, make-up, colognes and all the other unique smells of a woman.

I started using her bathroom so as to be among her shampoos, conditioners, moisturizing creams, bath oils and all the other bottles and jars women find indispensable for their daily toilet. I took to using her bath, filling it with water and pouring in her favourite bath salts and bubble bath. I would lie in the water till it was almost cold before reluctantly getting out and drying myself with her big downy towels. I'd dust my body with her talcum powder using her big fluffy puff to dab my skin inhaling its flowery scent. Then I'd wander around the house stark naked enjoying the unconstrained freedom, and the relishing the risky excitement that someone might call to the house or see me through a window.

Among the many items in her bathroom was a packet of five pink lady shavers. I puzzled for sometime over why she would have a razor and shaving foam until the penny dropped and I understood that smooth legs and armpits didn't happen naturally. I wondered what it would feel like to have hairless legs and body. I was not endowed with much body hair so it wasn't much of a job to remove it. The resultant smoothness was a surprising and pleasurable feeling.

At about this time I began wearing her nightgown to sleep in. I discovered it under her pillow one night and I had held it clutched to my chest as I slept. It was made from pale pink satin, was knee length and had thin little straps crossing the shoulders. The bust was adorned with white lace, as was the hem. I'm not sure what made me put it on; perhaps I hoped I would I feel closer to her, but as the silky article slid over my head and I smoothed it down my naked body, I was amazed that I got an instant erection. I walked around her room, the soft material sliding against my hairless body and felt an irresistible urge to masturbate. I stood before her long mirror and grasped my rigid cock. After only a few strokes I ejaculated spectacularly soaking the inside of the nightie with a huge quantity of semen. I was taken completely by surprise at this result and put it down to abstinence, for I had not 'taken myself in hand' since mother's tragic death.

I was fourteen when I discovered the joy and pleasure of masturbation. I was occasionally privy to whispered conversations amongst the boys, whenever I was allowed into their company. Being small and wimpish I was a natural target for bullying and was normally excluded from the gangs and cliques they formed. I was usually jeeringly told to go and join the girls as I looked like one anyway. Their talk and sniggered descriptions of their own wanking adventures intrigued me so that I resolved to try it for myself. I duly succeeded in bringing myself to a clumsy climax one afternoon as I lay in a warm bath soaking after a particularly punishing game of rugby. (I swear the P.E. master picked me to play full back knowing I would be the target of the opposing front row.)

After that first memorable occasion, which produced only a few small drops of clear fluid, there was no stopping me. My hand was in my trousers at every opportunity, bringing myself off several times a day. My semen production increased dramatically also, so that six months later I was spurting prodigious amounts.

From then on I wore one of her nighties every night. I also began trying other clothing items on. First a pair of panties, which I discovered, had the same result. I got incredibly hard and could not resist wanking into them. Then I progressed to a matching bra, which I stuffed with panties or handkerchiefs, then a suspender belt and stockings. Soon I was wearing complete outfits. Underwear, stockings or tights, dresses or skirt and blouses. I plundered her entire wardrobe trying on everything she owned. Whenever I returned to the house I immediately threw off my boys stuff and dashed into her bedroom to don whatever I'd selected earlier. I became totally addicted to her clothing and only felt comfortable when dolled up in one of her lovely dresses.

I also began experimenting with her make-up, it being the next logical step in my endeavour to look like a woman. The first few attempts were disastrous. I looked like a circus clown, with huge smudged and lop-sided lips, eyes looking like I'd been in a fight, and the face powder so thick it cracked when I smiled. But slowly I became better at it. I studied women's magazines looking for tips and watched television programmes intended for women. After a lot of practice I became very accomplished and could make my face up in several different ways depending on whether it was for daytime, evening, or formal etc.

The pleasure I got from her clothes soon led me to start wearing panties and a bra all the time, even when visiting aunt Alice in hospital. I would carefully select the underwear I wanted, then bathe and powder myself, before dressing in jeans and a baggy sweater. One day I was over generous with the cologne I sprayed on and aunt Alice noticed it as I sat at her bedside.

"Have you been using my perfume?" she asked.

"No," I replied truthfully. I had forgotten that they both used the same brand, "It was in Mummy's bathroom, and I just thought I'd try it."

"That's Ok," she said. "It smells lovely. Would you bring some for me the next time you come?" Fortunately she didn't query what I was doing in Mummy's bathroom.

"Of course."

This seemed like an open invitation for me to investigate aunt Alice's bedroom and bathroom. Funnily enough I had not entered her quarters at all since the accident, and very few times before, so I was quite excited as I opened her door and stepped in. The rooms were slightly smaller than Mummy's. She kept her demesne very much tidier that mommy did. Everything was hung carefully in her closet, her dressing table was clear of the clutter that covered mum's, and her bed was made properly. I opened her wardrobe door and looked inside. The hangers were filled with identical clothes to the ones in mommy's room. Again I had forgotten that they always bought the same things since their tastes as well as their appearances were identical. This left me with a feeling of disappointment as I'd looked forward to wearing some new things. I should have realized; hadn't I been doing their laundry for ages. I knew perfectly well that what one wore, so did the other.

By the time aunt Alice was discharged from hospital I was a dedicated and enthusiastic cross dresser and was dreading having to curtail my activities. I hated the thought that I wouldn't be able to prance and mince about the house in all my feminine finery (I now thought of Mummy's clothes as my own) now that she would be living with me. I continued sleeping in mom's nighties but reluctantly decided to move back into my own room.

Aunt Alice took a while to settle in. Although she new the geography of the house it took a lot of practice before she was able to navigate her way around without bumping into various pieces of furniture. She spent many hours each day sitting in the lounge listening to the radio, or to talking books on her personal stereo. She received these every few weeks by post and they gave her great pleasure.

It was curious, but I still hadn't fully accepted her sight loss and still imagined she could see. I found myself testing her to ascertain that she was in fact blind. I would quietly enter the room and stand before her. She appeared to be looking at me through the dark, wrap around glasses she now habitually wore. (They had been supplied by the hospital so that the scarring on her sightless eyes would not alarm strangers). I would pull faces at her and wave my arms about but get no reaction. I'd suddenly shout her name and see her jump at the sudden noise; she not realizing I'd entered the room.

One evening after I bathed, I slipped one of Mummy's silk bathrobes over my shoulders. I crept down the stairs and peeped into the lounge. Aunt Alice was sitting in her customary chair, headphones over her ears listening to a tape. I tiptoed into the room and walked in front of her. With my heart beating with excitement I opened the robe and exposed my naked body to her. I could see myself reflected in her dark glasses and the thrill of committing such a shameless act gave me an immediate erection. But I lost my nerve and quickly left scurrying back to my room where I masturbated to an explosive climax.

After this I was sure she really couldn't see and became much bolder. I would sit opposite her and expose myself. I would slowly masturbate as I talked with her. It was very eerie and unsettling to be blatantly wanking myself in front of my aunt. But the thrill I got from it was exquisite. Sometimes I stood directly in front of her, no more that two feet away and stroked my rampant prick. I gazed at her lips as she talked and wondered what it would feel like to push my throbbing cock between them. On occasions I had to quickly turn away when I came so as not to shoot my jism into her face.

One evening I stood naked in front of her and masturbated whilst she ate a bowl of museli. I watched enraptured as her sensual lips wrapped around the spoon and sucked the cereal from it. In my mind's eye her lips were sucking my cock and the image was so powerful I came before I could turn away. My spunk shot from my cock head and landed squarely in the middle of her dish of food. I stared in horrified fascination as she spooned a dollop of my hot sperm into her mouth and ate it. After this I frequently laced her food or drinks with liberal helpings of my cum. She consumed the stuff on her breakfast porridge, on deserts where it mixed well with cream. I ejaculated oodles of it into her cocoa and her milkshakes. Soon she was consuming almost my entire production.

I resumed my cross dressing; now unashamedly parading around the house wearing the sexiest underwear I had. I would take a long time preparing myself, making sure my make-up was perfect, then enjoying the thrill of dressing in bra, panties, garter and stockings etc. Being in aunt Alice's presence so adorned kept me in a state of permanent erection. I began pushing my daring, almost as if I wanted her to know. I would sit opposite to her, cross my legs and rub my nylon-clad legs together, creating that wonderful sound so loved by transvestites. I watched closely as aunt Alice cocked her head to on side trying to identify the noise. I became bolder and began wearing heels. I would walk across the timber floor of the hall making the unmistakable click, clicking of stiletto heels on a hard floor. I walked into the room where she sat, and although the floor was carpeted the sound was still loud enough to hear.

"Andrew, are you wearing high heels?" she asked suddenly as I minced into the room.

"Yes, aunty" I said.

"Would you mind telling my why?" she wanted to know.

"Practicing"

"For what?"

"For the college ball." I lied. "And anyway I rather like wearing high heels. I love the feeling and extra height I get from them."

"That's a very odd thing to do. Still if you want to I suppose it does no harm."

From then on I wore mummy's shoes all the time except when going out, and even then if I thought I could get away with it, I'd wear a pair of her flats.

Going out with aunt Alice was fun. Because of her blindness, dark glasses and white cane no one seemed to notice me guiding her. So I began wearing mummy's jeans or slacks with a blouse or top, the kind of stuff that was fairly unisex. Beneath I would of course wear bra and panties and often a camisole top. The suggestion of shoulder straps and lace front that could be glimpsed through the blouse I found very exciting.

On one such trip aunt Alice said she would love to get her hair done. In the months since she had been home I had regularly washed, combed and brushed her hair. I had become quite adept at styling and setting it in rollers. I'd even trimmed it, cutting off the straggly and split ends, but my efforts were nowhere like a professional job.

"I have a better idea," I said. "There's a guy on my course who used to be a professional hairdresser before he decided to give it up to become a nurse. I know he still does it in the evenings for some of the girls, and I'm sure he would come to the house and do yours. Shall I ask him?"

"Oh yes, that's a good idea. I am a still a bit self-conscious about my eyes."

Chapter Four

His name was Adrian Wall, and because we were studying the same course we had become friendly. We would spend our lunch breaks together, talking about our interests and pastimes. I was immediately attracted to him. I was infatuated with his rugged good looks, his Brad Pitt features, and his masculine attitude. He was all the man I was not; all that I longed to be, so I was quite surprised and flattered that he sort me out to be his friend. I envied the ease with which he attracted girls and secretly wished I was one of his conquests. I was fairly sure I was heterosexual, although, I was unsure of my feelings toward him. Up to this point in my life I'd had no experience with either sexual inclinations, being the virgin I was.

He came over on Saturday afternoon the next weekend. I had already shampooed and conditioned aunt Alice's hair when he arrived and she was waiting in the kitchen with a towel wrapping her head, turban fashion. While he set to work on her I showered and carefully washed and conditioned my own hair. I had not had it cut since before the accident and now 9 months later it was getting quite long and definitely needed some attention. I powdered with mimosa talc and dressed in a bra, panties, a white silk camisole and a mannish thin white cotton blouse that I knew my underwear would be visible through. I resisted the temptation to insert my newly acquired breast forms, leaving the bra cups empty. In an attempt to make my cross dressing not too obvious I wore a pair of mummy's grey flannel slacks and flat sandals through which my painted toenails peeped.

I had this compulsion to let Adrian see me as the transvestite I'd become. I subconsciously wanted him to know I was wearing women's underwear but I pretended to myself that I'd be safe from exposure and he wouldn't notice. I was just kidding myself, of course. He'd have had to be blind and stupid not to notice; I was fooling only myself if I thought he'd not discern the bra straps through the back of my blouse or see my painted toes.

Although I wore women's clothes all the time at home with aunt Alice, (and I was fairly sure that she knew, or at least suspected), this was the first time I was intentionally letting another person know my secret. I wasn't sure what his reaction would be but the knowledge that he would know that I was wearing feminine underwear was extremely exciting and gave me a huge buzz, not to mention an erection.

While he was attending to aunt Alice's hair I minced around the room swaying my hips in a provocative manner, and generally being as feminine and flirty as I was able. I was very conscious of him watching me.

When he'd finished with aunt Alice and removed the cape I asked, "Adrian, would you mind giving me a trim too?"

"Sure," he said, "sit in the chair and let me have a look at you."

I sat with my back to him as he pulled a comb through my still damp hair. He moved to the side and the front studying my head. I felt him running his fingers through my hair and lifting it off my shoulders.

"Mmm," he said, pondering the problem. "I think I can do something with it. Have you any preferences?"

"I love how you've done aunt Alice's," I said, "perhaps you could do something similar for me?"

He had cut and styled aunt Alice's hair in a simple pageboy bob, with a slight under curl at the sides and back. He'd also expertly layered it giving it plenty of body. He had added blond highlights to her natural blond colour and cleverly trimmed her fringe in such a way that it detracted somewhat from her dark glasses making her look less obviously blind.

"Of course sweetie, I know exactly what you want. Leave it to me." He had dropped his hands onto my shoulders and made it obvious that he was feeling my bra straps by rubbing his hands back and forth over them. Giving me a squeeze he draped the cape about me and set to work.

He chatted with aunt Alice and I for the hour it took him to do my hair. When he'd finished he led me to the large mirror over the fireplace so that I could see the end result. I was gob smacked. He had cut my hair in exactly the same style as aunt Alice's, even adding the same highlights.

"Oh my god!" I gushed. "It's wonderful. You couldn't have done it any better. I love it." I turned this way and that looking at it from all sides. I realized I would have to comb it out into a more boyish style before I went back to college, but for now it was perfect. I glanced at aunt Alice in the mirror. We could easily be mistaken to twins except that aunt Alice was a little older looking and of course she wore her dark glasses. If we dressed alike I was sure we could pass ourselves off as identical twins.

I turned back to Adrian to thank him again and was flabbergasted to see him standing with his trousers open and his hard cock in his hand. "Time to pay my fee, sweetheart," he whispered into my ear. His hands reached up to my shoulders and pressed downward. I intuitively knew what I was expected to do and slowly sank to my knees. If I had stopped to think I would have baulked at holding another mans penis. Never before had I held a huge, hard pulsing cock, but I instinctively grasped it with both hands and stroked its length. My left hand slipping inside his boxers and gently squeezed his swollen balls whilst my right slowly wanked his shaft. He placed his hand on the back of my head and lightly pulled me towards the impressive weapon that pulsed before my eyes. With an eagerness that surprised me I brought my mouth to the shining head of his pole and took it in. The sensation of sucking this hot live thing into my mouth caused my own prick to jump to attention and I could feel pre-come dribbling from its eye.

The experience was made infinitely more exciting by the fact that aunt Alice was sitting not three feet from where I knelt avidly sucking another man's cock. I hoped she wouldn't suspect what was going on from the slurping noises I was making. Adrian kept up a constant chat as if nothing untoward was happening. He held my head firmly in his hands and began to fuck my face. His trousers and boxers had fallen to his ankles and he almost fell when I brought him to his climax. How he managed to keep taking in a calm relaxed manner as he erupted a vast quantity of spunk into my mouth and throat I shall never know. I swallowed frantically as the stuff kept pouring out of him and he kept jamming his cock further into my throat. I began to think I would choke if he didn't soon stop, but eventually his thrusts eased and the man-liquor slowed and stopped. I gulped it all down then diligently licked every last drop from his lovely penis.

Finally his flaccid flesh slipped from and my mouth. I was left with a feeling of regret and the lingering taste of his sweet cum. I was reluctant to lose it, but he casually pulled up his shorts and trousers.

He collected his equipment together and packed it into his satchel. He said, "I'll be going now. If either of you ladies need my services again please let me know."

"What about payment?" aunt Alice asked.

"Don't worry about it. Ashley has looked after me."

And with that he wished aunt Alice and myself a good day before walking out of the house. "See you on Monday, Ashley" he called as he closed the front door.

"Who is Ashley?" aunt Alice enquired.

"It's what some of the guys call me at college."

"Why?"

"Well, Andy, Ashley. It sort of makes sense, and because I'm small and look kind of girly. I'm often mistaken for a girl you know. Tell you what," I said, changing the subject. "Why don't I make up your face, we get dressed up and go out somewhere? It's been ages since we enjoyed ourselves."

"Ok, you're on," she said. "I feel like a little bit of fun."

I had been waiting for a long time for an opportunity to venture out dressed as a woman. On several occasions I had been fully made up and dressed then at the last minute my nerve had failed me and I'd gone back to my room disappointed at my lack of resolve. But now that I'd proposed the outing and aunt Alice had accepted I was committed.

Chapter Five

Sitting at her vanity I went to work on her face. She had been extremely fortunate that the accident and not marked her face: only the area around her eyes had been scarred, which was hidden behind her glasses. I used a small amount of foundation on her flawless skin, a light blusher on her cheeks and lipstick. I wanted to make up her eyes but she refused to remove her glasses. I painted her fingernails and toes one shade darker than her lips.

"How do you know how to apply make-up so expertly?" she asked.

"I don't know. I'm just a natural I guess." I didn't say that I had been practising for months on myself with Mummy's stuff and was now very accomplished.

I went to her closet and selected a knee-length, black crepe cocktail dress; embroidered with a silver thread detail on the bust and shoulder straps. It was paired with a small bolero style jacket with short puff sleeves. Of all Mummy's dresses it was one of my favourites and I loved to wear it. It made me feel so very sophisticated and elegant. I left them on her bed together with a matching bra and pants set in wicked scarlet, light tan, 15 denier tights and black patent leather stilettos.

"You get dressed while I'll go and get ready." I said.

I went into Mummy's room and quickly striped off my blouse, slacks and camisole. I swapped my bra and inserted my breast forms. I changed my soiled panties and tucked away my unruly member as best I could. I now wore the same underwear as I'd selected for aunt Alice and the identical dress and shoes were waiting on a hanger. I applied my make-up with great care, paying particular attention to my eyes. I used exactly the same shade of lipstick and nail polish as I'd applied to aunt Alice. When my nails were dry I carefully rolled the tights up my legs then stepped into the dress, wriggled it up over my hips and faux bust, then with a certain amount of contortionism managed to pull up the zip. Finally I put the little jacket over my shoulders and pushed my feet into the shoes. I looked a million dollars! But something was missing. Then I saw what it was. I fixed a single strand of Mummy's pearls round my neck and a pair of clip-on pearl earrings. Now I was perfect.

"Are you ready?" I asked as I entered aunt Alice's room. She was just putting on her shoes. I looked at her then at my own reflected image and was amazed at the astonishing similarity. Except for her dark glasses we were practically identical. Her figure was slightly fuller that mine but I didn't think anyone would notice when we looked so alike.

"Wow!" I said. "You look fantastic! You're a real knockout, I wish I looked as good as you."

"Thank you" she said. "It's a long time since I have felt so feminine. What are you wearing?"

"There is something missing though," I said, ignoring her question. I took an identical single strand of pearls and fastened it around her neck, and clipped on her earrings. The white stones contrasted beautifully with the black of her dress and jacket.

"One final touch" I said. I spritzed Channel No5 behind her ears, on to her wrists and into her cleavage, and then did the same to myself. We were ready to hit the town.

This was it then, I thought to myself, I would either pass casual inspection and be accepted for what I appeared to be, or I'd be the subject of derision and scorn. There was even the possibility of arrest and all the shame attached. My excited anticipation was tempered with trepidation and nervousness.

 

Chapter Six

The taxi pulled up at the front steps of the 'Posh Nosh Restaurant', a discreet eatery with a reputation for excellent food. A uniformed doorman hurried forward to open the car door. I paid the driver and took aunt Alice's elbow and guided her up the few steps and inside. The Maitre D. greeted us profusely and had no trouble finding a table. The headwaiter fussed over us as we settled ourselves. I studied the menu while we waited to be served gins and tonic. I ordered pate de foie gras to start, followed by a lightly poached Dover sole for both of us. We accompanied the meal with a bottle of South African Chardonnay and finished off with coffee. The meal was excellent. I relaxed totally as we ate and I chatted to aunt Alice describing the other diners and the admiring looks she was getting. I didn't mention that I was also the focus of many lustful gazes. I loved all the attention we received, far more than I ever got as a man.

"Do you fancy going on to a night club, aunt Alice? Or perhaps you'd prefer something quieter?" I asked as I signed the credit card bill. I was enjoying myself so much I certainly didn't want to go home.

"I love to go to a night club. Do you know of somewhere?"

"I know just the place" I said, "Let's go."

The taxi dropped us on the street outside a non-descript three-storied building. I paid and led aunt Alice down an adjoining alley. The door to the club was about half way down. Music seeped out as a burly bouncer opened the door to admit us. We were ushered into the gloom and found a table in the corner near the low stage.

As my eyes accustomed to the dim light I scanned the other customers. Adrian had talked about this place a lot. It was a club for transvestites and crossdressers named 'Deceptions'. I had visited it a couple of times previously dressed in male clothes but I hadn't stayed long. I'd somehow felt uncomfortable and out of place; but this time dolled up en-femme I was completely at ease. The clientele fascinated me, some were obviously drag queens but for others it was extremely difficult to tell their true gender. So far as I could tell the patrons were mostly men passing as women, but there were also quite a number of women dressed as men. I'd been dying to visit here 'properly' dressed, so when aunt Alice had agreed to an evening out it had been the perfect opportunity.

We were early, so the place was still relatively quiet; it didn't really get going till the early hours. A woman dressed in a royal blue satin mini dress, fishnet stockings, towering heels and a spotless tiny white apron approached our table and said, "Hello, I haven't seen you two in here before. My name's Pattie, I'm the owner, and your very welcome to 'Deceptions'."

"Thank you. This is our first time," I said. "This is Alice and my name is Ashley." I saw aunt Alice's head turn toward me when I introduced myself.

"Pleased to meet you both, and I hope you enjoy yourselves. What can I get you to drink?"

I ordered brandies and soda for us both.

A few minutes later she was back with the drinks. As she poured the soda water onto the ice she said, "I must say you make a stunning pair. It's not often we see such beautiful identical twins. Give me a wave if you want anything else."

"Identical twins? What's she talking about?" Alice asked.

"She must think we look alike."

"How can we, I'm a woman and you're a… Wait a minute. Now it's starting to make sense. I've suspected for sometime that you've been wearing women's clothes, I've heard the rustling of skirts and the sound of nylons rubbing together, and you've been wearing high heels. Now you've started calling yourself Ashley."

I found myself holding my breath as she put together the clues she'd been gathering. I was not at all sure how she was going to react. She might blow her top accusing me of being some kind of pervert. She could even throw me out of the house. (Although I didn't think that was likely, as she needed me as a helper and guide). Alternatively she might just accept the fact; after all I was not the first boy who loved to cross-dress. She thought it over for several minutes, then I detected a smile form at the corner of her lips, it slowly spread across her face till she beamed at me. I released my breath sighing with relief. It looked like it was going to be all right.

"Well you are a crafty one," she said. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since Mummy died," I confessed. "It started when I began wearing her nighties to bed, I found it helped me to sleep at night, and it progressed from there. First her under things, then her dresses and skirts, then shoes and make-up till I was spending all day dressed. I only wore my boy clothes when I came to see you in hospital, and even then I'd wear her panties."

"Why do you do it?"

"Oh, because I love it," I replied. "It's not that I want to become a physical woman, you know, change sex or anything, I'm happy as a man, but I just love everything feminine, especially the clothes. I love the touch of soft fabrics, the silks, the satins and the lace. I adore feeling a skirt swirling about my stocking clad legs. I love the way my legs feel when wearing high heels, and of nylons caressing my smooth skin. I love wearing my hair in soft feminine styles and being properly made up. But most all I love just living as a woman. I do so want to live normally like you: to come and go as I please without the fear of detection; to be able to spend hours in shops trying on various things and just casually shopping for lingerie or shoes and have no one think it odd."

"I see. Have you worn any of my things?"

"No, I swear I haven't touched anything of yours." I paused, and then said, "Why should I, Mummy has exactly the same stuff as you have."

"I wish I could see you. I find it fascinating that you want to dress as a woman and to act and live as one. And if I'm honest, I think it's quite exciting. How often do you go out dressed up?"

"Believe it or not, this is my first time out in public fully cross dressed. I've wanted to for a long time but didn't have the courage or the opportunity until today. When I saw that Adrian had done my hair the same as yours I realized I could easily pass as a woman and thought, why not?"

 

Chapter Seven

It was after midnight when we left the club. We were somewhat tidily by this time having consumed several more brandies and were in high spirits. I put on some music when we arrived back home and asked aunt Alice if she would like a nightcap.

"No thank you," she said, "but I would like to dance. Would little Miss Ashley like to dance with her aunty Alice?" she giggled.

"I'd be delighted," I said, starting to giggle as well.

She took me in her arms and we began swaying to the music. My arms slipped about her waist and I laid my head on her shoulder. I had removed my bolero jacket and her face rested on the bare skin of my chest. I could feel her breasts pressing against mine.

"Where did you get your tits from?" she mumbled into my shoulder. "They're not real are they?"

"Unfortunately not. I bought them over the Internet. There are lots of sites for guys like me who want to appear feminine. Do you like them?"

She surprised my by cupping her hand over my breast and gently squeezing it.

"They feel very realistic, so soft and I can feel your nipple"

As her hand continued caressing my boob her other hand slid down my back and groped my bum cheek.

"Mmm." She sighed, "you feel just like a woman. So soft and curvy, it's been a long time since I've done this."

I was a little shocked at this revelation, as I had never suspected that aunt Alice had any lesbian tendencies. I said nothing; instead I lifted her chin with my fingers and gently brought my lips to hers. She responded immediately by pressing her lips roughly against mine. I felt her tongue dancing on my lips then push into my mouth. I opened my mouth slightly allowing her tongue to cross the threshold. She forced her tongue into my mouth, probing my teeth and the inside my lips. I reciprocated by pushing my tongue into her mouth. As soon as it entered she sucked it hard pulling it far into her mouth.

We kissed passionately for several minutes as we continued swaying to the music. Her hands were wandering all over my back, bottom and hips. My hand found her breast and I at last felt the soft flesh, I'd desired for so long. I was sure she could feel my bone hard cock pressing against her lower abdomen. I thrust myself against her and almost came. She pushed back and I knew we where heading for hell. Even in my lust enflamed mind I was aware that if we didn't stop now we were about to commit the sin of incest.

Ever since I'd been aware of the opposite sex, it was aunt Alice that had been the subject of my fantasies. I had no interest in girls of my own age, with their puppy fat titties and skinny legs. I had always desired her; she was to me the epitome of womanhood. I knew of course that this yearning was forbidden but it was her vision that never-the-less, appeared for my nightly wanks.

"Don't you think we should stop this?" I croaked.

"Why should we." She slurred. I realized she was drunk and it was the alcohol that was fuelling her lust. "Nothing wrong with a little snog is there? Besides, I really think you like it too, don't you, Ashley?"

As she said this I felt the zip at the back of my dress being pulled down, then the garment was round my ankles. I nearly fell, stumbling as it entangled my feet. I managed to kick it aside and swayed against her again. Taking her lead I did the same, sliding the zip to the bottom of its track and dropping her dress to the floor. We continued smooching: two girls dancing together in their lingerie. All the time we were kissing passionately, our hands roaming over the others body.

I had abandoned any hope of avoiding what we were inexorably heading for. There could only be one conclusion, and it happened in an instant. Aunt Alice slid her hand down the front of my panties and gripped my raging hard on. At the same time my hand found her dripping cunt, as my fingers plunged into the slimy depths she groaned in ecstasy.

"Oh, yes, yes, Ashley, do it to me. I want it so much. It's been so long."

My cock slid effortlessly into her as we swayed together. I gasped as I entered a woman's vagina for the first time. The inside of her cunt seemed on fire, I thought I had put my prick into a bowl of boiling oil. Despite my inexperience, instinct took over and I began to fuck her as we stood. With her arms holding tightly round my neck and her legs entwined about my waist I was supporting all her weight. I cupped her buttocks and rammed every last centimetre of my weapon into her.

It didn't last long. After only a few thrusts I felt myself coming. I was unable to delay and fired several rounds of my sperm into her depths. The sensation of my first ejaculation with something other than my hand was overwhelming. My back arched rigidly, and my legs locked solid as though gripped by some sort of seizure. Then my legs buckled under me and I collapsed to the floor with aunt Alice still clinging to me, still impaled on my shaft, which showed no sign of wilting, and still smothering my face with kisses.

Slowly my senses returned and my breathing quietened. I lay on my back, aunt Alice's weight squashing me into the carpet. The enormity of what we had just done hit me. We had committed a heinous crime in both the eyes of the law and of the church. We would be imprisoned and the key thrown away for sure.

"Oh my god. What have we done?" I barely whispered.

"It's called fucking." Aunt Alice said with a giggle.

"I know that. That's not what I mean. You are my aunty and this is incest. We could get locked up."

"Only if anybody found out. Now don't worry about it and let's go to bed and do it some more."

It seemed as though I had unleashed a demon. She was insatiable. I had opened a Pandora's box, and all her sexual cravings and desires had been released. She was like a monster in a feeding frenzy, with an unquenchable appetite. Her hunger grew with each occasion I entered her.

As morning dawned I fell into a deep sleep and didn't wake till lunchtime. I became aware that I was hard again and that something nice was happening to my cock. Peering through bleary eyes I saw a blond head centred in my crutch and bobbing up and down. It took a while for me to understand that aunt Alice was giving me a blowjob. I ran my hands through her hair holding her head steady so that I could force my prick into her throat.

She pulled away and said, "Good, you're awake at last. Give it to me again, lover; you are such a wonderful fucker. I simply can't get enough of you."

She wriggled up my body and kissed me with renewed passion. I rolled over onto her and attempted to enter again.

"No not in there," she giggled, "put it in here."

She raised her legs onto my shoulders and presented her lovely bottom to me. Her abundant juices had run down the crack of her bum and her hole was well lubricated. It required some effort to force my cock into her anus. Once the head was passed her sphincter I slid in quite easily, and found her hot tunnel delightfully tight and thrilling. She shuddered with pleasure as I rove the last millimetre up her rectum. I began slowly to move in and out of her. My stamina was improving now that my balls had been emptied, I knew not how many times, since our first coupling. Aunt Alice was soon delirious with joy at being penetrated in her back passage. She was thrashing about under me so much that I was finding it difficult to stay buried inside her. I could clearly feel her anal muscles contracting on my cock, squeezing it in a powerful grip.

As her frenzy heightened, her thrashing head dislodged her dark glasses. They flew off her nose and landed at the side of the bed. Aunt Alice was unaware of their absence and for the first time I could see her damaged and disfigured eyes. The scarring had healed pink and puffy across her lids and eyebrows. Her eyes were dull and lifeless, the pupils opaque discs. I stared in fascination at the mutilation as I pounded into her gripping sphincter.

As my passion mounted towards my climax a corner of mind was aware that something was wrong. Some nagging detail that was not as it should be. Something I couldn't put my finger on like a word on the tip of my tongue, or a face glimpsed in a crowd that I couldn't put a name to. As I thundered toward my imminent explosion it hit me. In a flash of clarity the entire puzzle was revealed. The small mole, or beauty spot on the top of her cheek just below the eye, that had been hidden all this time behind her glasses, was on the wrong side. Aunt Alice was the left twin and the spot I was staring at was on the right. This could only mean one thing. As I fired my load of cum into the depths of her rectum, the ghastly truth crashed in on me. It was not aunt Alice that I'd been energetically and enthusiastically fucking for the last 12 hours, but my own mother!

 

 

 

Part Two

 

Chapter One

The discovery that I had been fucking and buggering my mother was so shocking that I was unable to think properly. It was as bad as when I'd been told she had died in that awful car smash. Aunt Alice, or Mummy as I should now think of her, was unaware of anything untoward. After our final carnal act she had drifted into a contented sleep and I had retired to Mummy's room to try to think through the implications of my dreadful actions.

Obviously there had been a terrible mix up immediately after her death. Because the car was registered in Mummy's name the police had assumed she had been the driver and hence the twin who had died. I had compounded the confusion by confirming the body was my mother at the formal identification. When I saw her lying in that cold mortuary I had broken down and not having the will or inclination to examine her closely I had agreed that it was indeed Mummy.

From then on things had escalated, becoming inextricably involved. Because of her amnesia she had not known she was being mistaken for her sister. Her memory still hadn't fully recovered so she was happily assuming she was Alice and not Ashley. And I was her nephew and not her son.

After much soul searching and agonising over the problem I decided that what was done was done, and there was no point worrying over it. I could talk to Mummy and try to explain the situation, or simply leave things as they were. After all, she had happily lived as Alice all this time so why confuse and upset her by overturning all that was familiar to her. On the other hand, if she were to suddenly regain her memory, how would I explain that everyone thought she was Alice, and was living in her sisters room etc.?

I really needed to talk to someone, but whom? I had no other family that I was aware of and no real friends other than Adrian, and I didn't think I could tell him I'd been committing incest with my mother thinking she was my aunt. But I needed someone to talk to. So in desperation I called him.

"I'd love to," he said, when I invited him to supper. I also mentioned I had something I wanted to talk over. "I'll be there about 7.30.

The doorbell rang a little after 7.30 and I went and opened it. Adrian stood on the threshold clutching a bunch of flowers. His mouth dropped open when he saw me.

"Hi, you're looking real cute," he said.

Only then did I remember how I was dressed. I had become so accustomed to wearing Mummy's clothes that I had forgotten Adrian had not seen me like this. I'd dressed casually in a camisole top, denim mini skirt and heeled sandals. I'd inserted my breast forms, as I did every morning, into a lacy bra that was partially visible at the front of my low cut camisole. I'd left my legs bare because it was warm enough in the house not to need stockings. I'd applied a light make-up; just some blusher and lipstick, and brushed my hair. My nails were still painted from the previous evening and I still wore my pearls and earrings.

I blushed at his remark. "I'm sorry," I stammered, " I forgot I was dressed like this."

"Don't apologize," he said, "you look very pretty. If I didn't know differently I'd think you were a very attractive girl." He proffered the bunch of flowers to me. "I brought these for you aunt but I think you should have them as you're the prettiest thing I've seen all day."

I accepted them and said, "Thank you. Please come in."

He followed me into the kitchen and I knew he was looking at my tush. I wiggled it deliberately (and I hoped) provocatively, then bent from the waist instead of stooping to get a vase from a low cupboard. The mini skirt rode up my hips giving him a glimpse of my pink silk panties. I don't know what possessed me; I was intentionally teasing him with my brazen exhibition. I had to remind myself that I had asked him here for a serious discussion and not to try to seduce him.

"Come in a say hello to aunt Alice," I said. I took his hand and led him into the drawing room. "Adrian's here, aunt," I announced as we entered the room.

"Why don't you get us all a drink, Andrew, I mean Ashley?" Alice said. "Sit down Adrian and tell me what you think of my adorable niece."

As I left for the drinks I heard Adrian say, "I think she is beautiful, almost as beautiful as you are,"

"Oh you old flatterer." Alice was not averse to a little flirting either. She had never actually seen Adrian as I'd only introduced him to her since her blindness but she claimed she could get a pretty good idea of what people looked like from the sound of their voices. He sat on the sofa beside aunt Alice and they chatted easily together.

When aunt Alice suggested I get something to drink it was the excuse I needed to make myself more comfortable. I scuttled out to the kitchen and immediately released my cock from its confinement and settled it into the front of my panties. It caused a very obvious bulge but I didn't care. Flaunting myself at Adrian was giving me a tremendous buzz. I didn't understand what was happening to me. I only knew one thing; I loved how he was making me feel. My cock was painfully hard trapped inside my panties and I longed to release it

As I carried the drinks into the lounge, Adrian was standing to remove his leather bomber jacket. It was only now that I took in what he was wearing. Under his jerkin he wore a spotless white cotton singlet. It was so tight across his chest that his bulging pecs and nipples were plainly outlined as were his abs. His upper body was covered in a thick mat of black hair that looked like the pelt of a furry animal. His lover half was covered in an equally tight fitting sheath, that looked like ski pants that were three sizes too small. They were made from thin cotton and were tucked into a pair of hand-tooled leather cowboy boots. My eyes were immediately drawn to the prominent lump in the front of his tights that was obviously an erection. He made no attempt to hide the protuberance; on the contrary he rubbed it suggestively several times before he sat down again.

I placed aunt Alice's drink on a table beside her then stood at the end of the couch to hand Adrian his. As I lent slightly forward I felt Adrian's hand touch my buttock and gently squeeze it. I was shocked at first but then I began to enjoy the pleasurable sensation of having my bottom fondled. Soon his hand reached under my skirt and caressed my silk covered cheeks. I didn't move as his hands roamed over my bottom making me shudder with joy. My eyes were fixed on his crutch watching in fascination as his rigid cock twitched inside its tight confines, a wet spot appeared and gradually spread as his prick discharged pre-cum into his pants.

Reluctantly, I dragged myself away from his wandering hands and sat opposite in a low armchair and sipped my drink. I noticed he was staring at my legs that I held primly together at my knees. When I'd sat down my mini skirt had pushed up my thighs and I had made no attempt to pull it down. A sudden exciting thought entered my head. I watched his face as I slowly crossed my legs, a la Sharon Stone, and gave him a flash of my pink pantied crutch. His eyes opened wide when he saw up my skirt and could see my erect cock. I glanced down at his crutch and could clearly see his prick outlined in his thin trousers pulsing.

 

Chapter Two

I could feel my own cock leaking into my panties and was relieved when aunt Alice suggested we eat. I had prepared a light supper of fresh baked bread, salad and cold meat. I opened a bottle of Chablis to wash it down with. After we'd eaten we retired to the lounge, which was lit by the flickering light of several scented candles. I brought in a pot of coffee and a bottle of brandy, poured and served it.

I sat next to Adrian on the couch and we sipped our coffees. As we chatted his hand began stroking my leg from the knee up to the hem of my skirt. I glanced across at aunt Alice who was sitting opposite us. I had the same eerie feeling that she was watching our every move from behind her dark glasses. Gradually Adrian's hand worked its way up under my skirt and onto my crutch. I gasped as his hand folded round my stiff length.

"Are you alright dear?" aunt Alice asked.

"Yes, something went down the wrong way." I said.

I lay against the back of the couch, raised my hips and pulled my skirt up around my waist. Adrian immediately pushed the front of my panties down and released my throbbing penis. I looked at aunt Alice/Mummy again as Adrian began to masturbate me. It was uncanny the way she stared at us as thought she could see exactly what we were doing. Raising my hips again I pushed my panties down and removed them, then lay back once more and spread my legs wide so that Adrian had unfettered access to my cock.

"If you'll excuse me I think I shall go and change into something more comfortable and cooler," Aunt Alice announced, "it's awfully hot in here."

As she left the room Adrian stood and with a single movement removed his ski pants. His huge erection swayed before him. I was surprised by the nonchalant way he exposed himself.

"You want to dress like a girl, well, you can act like one." He said. "On your knees and suck this." He gripped his rod and waved it at me.

Without a seconds hesitation I did as he commanded. I admitted to myself that I loved the feeling of a hot cock in my mouth. Since the previous occasion I had dreamed of fellating him again and had longed to repeat it.

I was so engrossed in blowing Adrian that I didn't see Mummy return to her seat. I turned my head sideways to look at her as she brushed passed me. She had changed into an apricot silk ankle length negligee, tied loosely at the waist. I knew she was naked beneath it because as she lent forward it gaped open exposing her lovely breasts. Lately she had taken to wearing see-through nighties and negligees in the evenings, but this was the first time with someone else present. Perhaps she didn't realize just how revealing they were, or maybe she was deliberately teasing Adrian. I felt a pang of jealousy that another person was viewing what till now had been my exclusive privilege. I got a reminder to concentrate on what I was doing when Adrian roughly grabbed my head and thrust his prick into my throat.

"That's a beautiful gown you're wearing, Alice." Adrian said.

"Thank you, it makes me feel very sexy."

"Would you mind standing up so that I can see it properly?"

"Of course."

As she got to her feet the sash unravelled and the front of the gown opened like theatre curtains to reveal her naked body. She was unaware of her inadvertent exhibition and stood uncovered for our delectation. I was again captivated by her nudity. From my position on my knees my eyes were no more than two feet from her pussy. Her glistening slit was clearly visible through the sparse blond hair of her bush. She was plainly turned on because as I stared a pearl of clear fluid seeped from between her cunt lips.

"Oh, it's lovely," Adrian said, "but what's inside is even better."

Realizing that the negligee was hanging open she attempted to pull it together. "No, don't cover yourself, let me look. You're so beautiful, too beautiful to be covered up."

Adrian and I gazed in awe at Mummy's naked beauty for several timeless minutes. He offhandedly stroked his cock into my mouth and I continued sucking and wanking his solid shaft.

"Please may I kiss you?"

Without a word she stepped forward a pace, brushing her thighs and pubic bush against the side of my face. Adrian's arms encircled her shoulders and they brought their lips together in a deep passionate kiss. I found myself trapped between two bodies, a penis in my mouth and a dripping vagina against my cheek. Without thinking what I was doing I released the cock from my mouth, turned my head slightly and thrust my tongue into her eager cunt. When she felt of my probing tongue her labia opened spontaneously and my mouth was immediately flooded with hot juice. I sucked avidly, drinking down her precious nectar. My nose butted against her engorged clitoris as I sort to get deeper into her hot depths.

I would have drunk from her cup of ambrosia forever had not I become aware of a hard and insistent prodding in the region of my ear. Adrian's cock was trying to enter the same place I was hungrily feeding at. Reluctantly I relinquished my position and guided his prick, which I still gripped in my hand, into the threshold of her heavenly tunnel. My tongue lubricated his length as he slid effortlessly into her impatient cunt.

His hips took on a life of their own, thrusting in and out with mechanical efficiency, and the regularity of a metronome. I watched in fascination from my adjacent standpoint as Adrian's cock was sucked into the enveloping folds of Mummy's love box, and then gripped tightly as though, reluctant to release it as he withdrew.

I was vaguely aware of moans and kissing sounds from above as their passion increased and the tempo of Adrian's pistoning cock accelerated. He was unable to prolong his fucking for any great length of time. The hot squeezing of Alice's love muscles, combined with the attention I had given his weapon; was too much for him. With a deep guttural groan he rammed as far up her cunt as he could reach and discharged his load. At the same instant Mummy came too. Her thighs stiffened and she clutched him around his neck as though a drowning man, desperately clinging to a life buoy.

It took them several minutes to relax and release their grips on each other. Mummy slid off Adrian's wilting member and collapsed backward on the couch, her arms and legs splayed untidily. Still on my knees I immediately crawled between her spread thighs and pushed my mouth onto her oozing cunt, feasting ravenously on their mixed outpourings. I didn't cease feeding from her till I had devoured every last morsel, I probed my tongue into the farthest reaches of her soft slimy depths extracting all that I could glean.

Mummy must have passed out and slept as I attended to her, because she didn't stir when I felt a touch on my shoulder, and Adrian say, "I have to go now. Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

I looked up and saw that he was dressed again. "It doesn't matter," I said, "some other time will do. Goodbye, Adrian, I'll see you in class."

I carried Mummy to her bed and slid her in between the sheets. I retired to my own room but I was still unfulfilled and my cock ached for relief. I slept fitfully and sometime during the night dreamed of a handsome man tenderly making love to me. I awoke to find my nightie and the bed soaked in come.

Chapter Three

In the end I chose the easy option. I said and did nothing. I didn't talk things over with Adrian nor did I reveal to Mummy her true identity. Our lives quickly settled into a routine. Aunt Alice/Mummy spent her time learning Braille, listening to her talking books and gradually becoming more self-sufficient in dealing with her sight loss. I attended college.

By this time I had moved permanently into Mummy's bedroom. I used her things and wore her clothes as if they were my own. I rarely wore male clothing now, only when attending college or when it was unavoidable. I continually pushed the boundaries of what I could get away with. I had not yet taken the fateful step of wearing a dress or skirt to college, (I was still not yet confident enough) but I always wore lingerie and the most feminine unisex clothes I could find.

We were required to wear hospital scrubs with a head covering whenever we were in the hospital, which was all the time, now that the course had progressed this far. We changed into these each morning before the start of classes. I was careful to ensure the cubicle door was closed before disrobing so there would be no chance of anyone seeing my feminine underwear. But I secretly hoped someone would burst in and catch me in my flimsy undies.

Now that Adrian was aware of my transvestism he encouraged me to be more daring. He was always very attentive and would often tell me how lovely I looked in this blouse or that top. He suggested I should wear a feminine business suit with pants instead of a skirt. Mummy had a couple in her closet and I duly wore one the next day. It was dark maroon, had wide lapels, a single button fastening, tailored waist and oblique pockets. The slacks were high waisted, slightly flared and had of course no fly. I coupled it with an open necked white silk blouse. Trainers were obviously out of the question so I wore a pair of lowish-heeled court shoes. (The first time I'd worn heels to class.)

As I was parking a large black Mercedes pulled into the bay next to me. I glanced over to see who was driving it and was surprised to see Sir David Chester, the hospital's senior consultant neurologist smiling at me. It was odd that he should park alongside me, because as one of the senior doctors on the staff he had his own designated parking space. I hesitated getting out of my car because I was conscious of my suit and shoes so I pretended to look for something in the glove box.

"Good morning, Ms Ashford," he said as he held the drivers door open for me to alight.

I was very flustered by his attention, and by his use of the title Ms. I had only attended two of his lectures so was taken aback that he was even aware of me, much less that he knew my name.

"Good morning, Sir David, nice to see you." I said. He held his hand for me to take as I swivelled in my seat, and making sure to keep my knees together, and stepped out of the car.

"Thank you." I said standing up. I adjusted my jacked so that it hung correctly and unconsciously smoothed down my pants as though it were a skirt. I patted my hair and hoped it was not too awry.

"Lovely to see you too, Ms. Ashford. You look very fetching this morning if I may be permitted to say so. May I walk you to the building?"

"Yes, of course." I was nonplussed by his conspicuous show of gallantry. He was quite obviously coming on to me. Did he not realize I was a boy? Did I look so convincing as to be mistaken for a girl?

We walked together across the huge car park. He held me lightly by the elbow in a gentlemanly manner. I had to take little scuttling steps to keep up with him. He chatted easily as we negotiated our way around parked cars and said, as we approached the entrance, "Perhaps I shall see you again soon?"

"Yes," I replied, "I'm attending your lecture this afternoon."

"Oh, good. I'll look out for you. See you later."

"Bye"

I wasn't sure what had just happened. A senior member of the medical staff had just been blatantly flirting with me as though I was a young woman, when he must know I was a boy. He had access to class records and was the sort of man who did proper research. If he knew my name he must also know my gender, address, phone number etc.

During the lecture I sat at the rear of the room but I caught him looking at me as he talked. At the end of the period, because I'd sat at the back, I was necessarily one of the last to leave. He stood at the door as we exited and as I passed he handed me an envelope.

This was the last class of the day. I lingered in the changing rooms, as I usually did, till everyone else had left. Whilst I waited I opened the envelope and with keen curiosity, flattened out the single sheet of expensive paper. It read:

My Dear Ms. Ashford,

I so enjoyed our little chat this morning and would love to see you again. Would you like to meet me for a drink this evening? I shall be at the 'Kings Arms' hotel from 8.00 p.m. I would be very happy if you would do me the honour of joining me.

Yours,

David.

 

I was flabbergasted. Here was the senior hospital consultant and head of the neurology department, a man old enough to be my father, asking me out on a date. As I drove home endless questions circled around my mind. Firstly should I even go? After moment's thought I knew I had to; standing him up was out of the question. He had too much power for one thing and could easily see that I failed my exams. No, such an invitation was a command. Then the question was, should I go en-femme or be the boy he knows I am. If I went en-femme, to what degree should I dress? Should I go for the whole kit and caboodle, or arrive, as I was dressed now? Or maybe I should wear ordinary, uni-sex type of clothing? I simply didn't know what to do.

I was still pondering the problem when I arrived home. Mummy was in the kitchen fumbling with pots and plates attempting to prepare a meal and greeted me with a cheery "Hi, lover."

I barely muttered a response, being preoccupied with the predicament in which I found myself. She immediately picked up that something was bothering me.

"Something wrong?" she said. "Anything I can help you with?"

After a moment's hesitation I said, "You could say that. Sir David Chester has asked me to meet him for a drink this evening."

"That's nice. So what's the problem?"

"The problem is, I don't know whether to turn up dressed as a girl or as a boy."

"Mmm. I see. What sex does he think you are?"

"He obviously knows I'm a boy because he has seen my registration, but he addresses me, and treats me as a girl."

"Then the answer's obvious," she said. "If he treats you as a girl, then a girl you must be. He clearly wants to meet the pretty girl you appear to be."

"Oh, Mummy thank you. I knew you would know what I should do." I suddenly realized my mistake and quickly said, "I mean aunt Alice."

She stopped what she was doing and I saw a frown of uncertainty cross her brow. I prayed she would assume I'd made a slip of the tongue and not remember that she really was my mother.

 

Chapter Four

Once the decision was made I threw myself in preparation. I subconsciously knew I would see Sir David en-femme and had been thinking about what to wear since I'd read his note. All I needed was Mummy's encouragement and approval and now that I had it I was determined to exceed all my previous efforts at cross-dressing.

I showered first and used a depilatory cream on my legs, chest and underarms. I shaved my practically non-existent beard twice, (managing to do so without nicking my skin), and on an impulse trimmed my pubic hair leaving just a small tuft at the root of my penis. I then soaked in a bath generously laced with pungent oil and bubbles. I used this time to pluck my eyebrows into a graceful arch with the aid of a small hand mirror. Previously I'd refrained from excessive eyebrow plucking, as it would be too apparent; I'd only remove any long or straggly hairs. When I eventually emerged from the scented water my skin felt as soft as a new born babes and my pores were impregnated with the heady perfumed of the bath oil. I gently patted my skin dry with a soft towel and dusted myself with Mummy's mimosa talcum powder.

I spent a long time getting my make-up absolutely perfect. I applied my eye shadow and mascara a little heavier than normal and carefully painted my lips a shade of coral pink that I knew would go well with the dress I planned on wearing. I applied the same colour to my toes, and to the acrylic fingernails I glued on over my own. My hair was still as Adrian had styled it and only needed a perfunctory brushing to leave it exactly as I wanted.

Because my dress had a halter neck I chose to wear a mauve Lycra corselet. The under wired bra cups meant there would be no unsightly straps visible, and I would still have adequate support for my breast forms. Also the elasticated material of the body of the corselet squeezed my waist in reducing it by two inches. My panties were also mauve silk with a Broderie anglaise front panel and around the leg openings. I rolled tan, 15 denier nylons up my legs, being extremely careful not to snag them with my nails, and clipped the lacy tops to the suspenders of the corselet.

The dress I'd selected was absolutely gorgeous and one I had wanted to wear out for a long time. It was pink chiffon, fully lined and bias cut. It had a silver beaded detail on the v-neckline, the hem, and on a dropped chevron around the waist. The skirt had an asymmetrical godet detail, which added extra flare. It fell to mid calf and nicely emphasized the Jimmy Choo sandals I slipped my feet into. The 3" stiletto heels would not be a problem to me as I'd had plenty of practice walking in heels, I just prayed the thin ankle straps would hold.

For extra glamour I clipped on dangly diamante earrings, and a companion necklace. Onto my right wrist I slipped four silver bangles and on my left a tiny but elegant diamond watch. To hold my lipstick, compact and cash etc I carried a pink puffball evening bag covered in beads and sequins. A squirt of Poeme perfume on wrists, behind my ears and cleavage and I was ready.

Now that I was all set I took a first look at myself in Mummy's cheval mirror. I was stunned. I knew I looked reasonably feminine but I was not prepared for the sight of the lovely young woman who looked back at me. I was staring at the image of my own mother (or aunt Alice) when she was ten years younger. The resemblance was uncanny. The similarity was unnerving; it was as though aunt Alice had been resurrected and the twins were both alive again. I had to pinch my thigh to believe it was really me.

"I'm off now, aunt," I said crossing the lounge and heading for the front door.

"Just a minute," she said, "I want to look at you."

What she meant was to run her hands over me, feeling my clothes and gaining a mental picture of what I looked like. It was a method she had developed for 'seeing' anything and was remarkably accurate.

Feeling my bare shoulders she said, "you need something to wrap around you, you might get a chill. I have a pashmina shawl somewhere, why don't you borrow that?"

I knew exactly the article she meant and quickly fetched it. It was beautifully soft and suited my ensemble perfectly, adding the finishing touch. Heading out of the door her heard her say, "Take care."

 

Chapter Five

It was fifteen minutes pass 8.00 when the taxi dropped me at the hotel. The doorman opened the car door for me and I walked to reception. I was very nervous, this being the first time I'd been out in public on my own. I announced I was meeting Sir David Chester and could someone please direct me to him. A porter hurried forward when the receptionist struck the bell on her desk, and was ordered to escort me to the 'Lords and Ladies' bar. I noticed the girl behind the desk looking me up and down, appraising my outfit, and was relieved to see that her reaction was favourable. I had passed the first test.

I spotted Sir David sitting with another distinguished gentleman. As we approached their table they both stood, shook hands and the stranger left. I wondered if he knew I was expected and had quickly withdrawn when I arrived.

"Ms. Ashford, how lovely to see you." Sir David said, politely standing and bowing slightly as the porter held a chair for me. "I was very much hoping you would come. I have been looking forward to seeing you again. Please sit down."

"Thank you," I said, carefully sitting in the lady like manner I'd practiced. "I'm sorry I'm late. And please call me Ashley."

"Think nothing of it, Ashley. I would have waited all night for such a beautiful woman. What will you have to drink?"

"Oh. White wine, please." I was flattered and a little embarrassed by his enthusive greeting. He was acting like the perfect gentleman he no doubt was, but I thought he was never-the-less a little over the top describing me as a beautiful woman.

I guessed his age to be about 50, his thinning silver grey hair was slicked back and his moustache neatly trimmed. He was a huge man, weighing at least 20 stone, (280 lbs) his bulk fully filling the chair in which he sat, but as with many large men he was surprisingly agile and nimble. He had the bearing of a very successful and wealthy man. He wore a bespoke, navy blue, double-breasted, pin strip suit, that was superbly tailored, a light blue cotton shirt, and what I guessed was an association tie. In the button hole of his lapel was a fresh-cut pink carnation.

When our drinks had been served and we had toasted each other, he reached under the table and presented me with a corsage of orchids. I was at a loss for words. I had never before been given such a gift; I was deeply touched.

Ever since receiving his invitation I had agonised over whether to confess my gender or to maintain the charade. I had assumed he knew I was a boy, but just maybe he thought I was a genuine girl. If he believed I was a girl and discovered later I was not I would be in big trouble. Now, sitting together sharing drinks, and before things went any farther, I decided I must come clean.

"Sir David, I must tell you something." I said. He raised an inquiring eyebrow in a sign that I should continue. "I have a confession to make."

"And what could such a pretty little girl as you have to confess?"

"That's just it." I said. "You see, I'm not a girl I'm a boy."

I held my breath and studied his face as he absorbed my news. I didn't know how he would react. I prayed he wouldn't be too upset and make a scene. Instead I saw a sly smile appear on his lips.

He leant toward me and whispered confidentially, "I too have a confession. Of course I know you are a boy, but I like feminine boys who dress as girls, and you are exceptionally feminine and extremely pretty. Now drink up and let's go and eat."

I breathed a huge sigh of relief, and then began to giggle. Sir David's smile turned into a huge grin and he roared with laughter. From then on the evening was perfect. He took me to a very swanky restaurant (with two Michelin stars no less) and wined and dined me. Later we danced together at a very up-market nightclub. I would have loved to go to 'Deceptions' but thought I would be pushing my luck. Maybe next time.

At around 1.00 a.m., when I was getting tired and my feet were aching, he suggested we leave. I happily agreed. I expected to be put into a taxi and sent home; instead he invited me to his apartment for a nightcap. I hesitated for only a second before accepting.

His apartment was in the better part of town, not far from the hospital. He explained in the taxi, that he used it during the week when he as working, but at weekends he went home to his house in the country where his wife and grown up son and daughter lived. It occurred to me that I shouldn't be visiting the flat of a married family man, but before I could formulate any sort of protest we had arrived. He quickly paid the cab and led my by the hand into the foyer of the building. A sleepy concierge appeared and opened the old-fashioned lift doors for us and we creaked upward to the ninth floor.

No sooner had the apartment door closed behind us than Sir David dropped to his knees, threw his arms around my hips and said, "Oh Ashley you are so beautiful. I want to worship you and serve you. I want to lay myself at your feet and kiss your pretty toes. I want to be your slave."

I was completely gobsmacked by this unexpected and startling confession. His remarkable change in personality took me completely by surprise. I tried to extricate myself from his clutching arms but he held me too tightly. His face was buried in my crutch as he sobbed and pleaded, and to my shame I felt myself getting hard.

"Sir David," I pleaded. "I don't know what you're talking about. Please let me go."

"Ashley, you are my dream come true. You are all I desire. I want you to be my mistress; to command me, to enslave me, to punish me."

"Punish you? What are you talking about?" I was getting out of my depth and didn't understand what he was saying. I had of course read about these sorts of situations but had believed them to be the imaginings of lonely old men.

"Yes, punish me please," he cried. "I have been naughty and should be spanked or caned. I deserve to be thoroughly chastised for my unforgivable behaviour this evening."

"But you have behaved impeccably."

"No I haven't. I have behaved abominably and tried to seduce an innocent young girl. The punishment for such an act is at least twenty strokes of the cane, and you must lay them on with all your strength."

The thought of canning him was starting to excite me. The idea of whipping such an important and powerful man was definitely giving me an erection. I looked round the room and noticed a large sofa with padded arms; ideal I thought. If he wanted to be punished then I would oblige him.

"Yes, your behaviour has been reprehensible and you deserve a thorough flogging." I was slipping naturally into the role of a dominatrix. "Crawl away pig and fetch me a cane and whatever else you think you deserve to feel across your back."

To my utter astonishment he immediately crawled across the floor, grunting and snuffling like a pig. He disappeared into an adjoining room and soon returned with a riding crop, a rattan cane and short handled cat-o-nine-tails, gripped in his teeth. He crawled to where I stood, still in a somewhat bewildered state, and dropped them at my feet like a well-trained retriever.

"Remove your trousers and lay across the arm of the couch you filthy dog. I will teach you what happens when you try to interfere with young girls."

He did as I ordered with alacrity, fumbling at his belt and letting his trousers drop about his ankles.

"Which whip do you wish me to use on your worthless hide?"

"Mistress, please use the rattan."

I picked up the preferred instrument and swished it through the air. It made a most satisfying whoosh. Standing behind and to one side I raised his shirttail with the cane. His boxer shorts were enormous and would have to come down for him to feel the full effect of the flogging.

"Drop your shorts." I snapped.

With these around his ankles I stared in fascination at the huge expanse of quivering white flesh presented. The skin was pockmarked with dimples of cellulite and the flesh on his upper thighs hung in rolls. Not a very pretty sight, I decided, maybe it would improve when I put some colour into it.

Measuring the distance I drew my arm back and let fly with all my strength. The cane whistled through the air and bit into his cheeks with a loud slap. I was thrilled to see a vivid thin red line appear exactly bisecting the crack of his arse. I swung again this time leaving my mark parallel to the first. Now I began to really let him have it, laying it on as fast as I was able. I didn't stop till my arm ached with the effort. His buttocks were criss-crossed with a mass of red wheals some of which were seeping droplets of blood.

I was panting for breath and sweat dripped from my brow. I was highly excited. My cock was painfully hard inside my constricting panties so I lifted the skirt of my dress and released it. My reaction was totally unexpected. I had never whipped anyone before and was surprised by the excitement I felt from administering punishment. There was no doubt that I was in a highly charged state and desperately needed some relief.

With my cock swinging free I walked to his head, grabbed a handful of hair and twisted his neck round so that my prick nudged his face.

"Suck it you worthless piece of shit." I yelled at him.

He raised his tear-stained face and saw my penis inches from his mouth. Without a moments hesitation he grabbed my member and fell on it like a starving man, devouring my entire length. It was clear that this was not a new experience for him; he sucked and caressed my cock as though it were a precious artefact. His expertise soon brought me to the brink of a climax, but I didn't want it to end just yet. I needed it to last as long as possible.

Withdrawing my cock from his avaricious mouth I said, "Enough, slave. Help me undress."

He stood on shaky legs and helped me remove my dress. I ordered him to remove my panties, which he did on his knees, carefully raising one foot at time to slip them off. I decided that was enough for now. He was drooling with lust as he viewed my semi naked condition, with my erection swaying before his face.

"Your turn now," I said. "Strip."

He quickly removed his remaining clothes and stood before me like an albino Buddha. His huge breasts hung from his chest and rolls of fat sagged from his waist, arms and legs. His penis was tiny and flaccid; I thought how odd it was that such an enormous man should have such a miniscule dick. No doubt he was impotent and could only get satisfaction of physical abuse.

Picking up the cat I slowly walked around his vast bulk inspecting him from every side. Without any warning I flicked the knotted leather tails across his stomach and chest, leaving diagonal pink lines. I continued slowly walking round him all the time swinging the cat, gradually covering his body with red stripes. After half an hour he was glowing pink from his neck to his knees with not a square inch of untouched skin to be seen. All the time he stood in total silence, only winching when I caught him in a particularly tender spot. I was momentarily alarmed by the flow of tears but was reassured when I noticed his little cock was at last standing to attention.

"On your hands and knees, pig." I ordered. My arm ached so much I was unable to lash him any longer. Another evil idea had come to me, which drove me wild by it's sheer perversity. Approaching his huge burning buttocks I thrust my cock between his cheeks and forced myself into his resisting anus. I used no lubrication, delighting in the added cruelty of my rough entry. He yelled in protest but remained in position as my cockhead broached his sphincter and I slid into him. Picking up the riding crop I whipped his flanks and back keeping time with my thrusts up his anal passage.

This was the final exquisite act. I was wild with excitement raping this man who only a few hours ago I had been in awe of. The absolute power I held over him was too much to bear for very long. With a scream of ecstasy I shot my load into his forbidden depths. I shook with the joy and bliss of my climax. My fulfilment was such that I collapsed onto his broad back, gasping for breath and trembling from the release of so much pent up lust.

My befuddled brain gradually cleared and I released myself from his gripping rectum. I staggered to the bathroom and washed my soiled prick in warm water. When I returned Sir David was sitting on the couch wearing a towelling robe. I was a little apprehensive as to what to do now.

"Thank you, Ashley." He said in a quiet voice. "You have made me very happy and contented. I hope you got a little enjoyment from the experience also. You see, I have a problem with impotency and can only get any gratification from extreme acts such as these. Naturally my wife is unable and unwilling to do what you have done, and it is not the sort of behaviour I would like to become common knowledge. I expect you were shocked at the way I acted, but I earnestly pray that you will be discrete about what has taken place tonight. You understand that I would be ruined if any of this became public. So please assure me you will keep quite about it."

I said nothing, digesting what he had said. It was quite a speech and, I believed, an honest confession. I wasn't sure how to respond. Whilst I thought about what he'd said, I indicated that he should help me with my dress. He immediately dropped to his knees and held my panties for me.

"No. Keep them as a constant reminder of our evening together. Carry them with you always in the top pocket of your suit jacket. I shall check that you do."

He docilely assisted me to don my dress then stood and watched as I repaired my make-up.

"Call me a taxi." I ordered.

When it arrived I left without saying another word. I would let him sweat for a while until I decided what I would do with this knowledge and my own newfound predilection for sadism.

 

Chapter Six

It was two weeks before I attended another lecture given by Sir David. He was as urbane, debonair and dapper as always. No one would ever suspect his secret sexual hang-up. I noticed immediately the small white triangle of silk protruding from the top pocked of his suit jacket and was pleased that he was obeying my orders to carry my panties at all times.

At the end of the lecture I hung back so as to be the last to leave. As I passed him he again passed me a note at the same time casually pulling my panties from his pocket and holding them to his nose as if to blow it. Then with a flourish he waved them in the air before returning them to his pocket. If anyone had seen him it would have been quite obvious what he held in his hand. I walked out without acknowledging him.

Dearest Mistress,

Would you please do your worthless worm the honour of meeting him again? I beg to be of service to you and long for you to use me in whatever manner you may choose. I shall be at my apartment every evening awaiting your gracious presence, so please, I humbly beg you, visit whenever you can spare some time for a pitiful wretch.

Your lowly and very obedient servant,

David.

 

No invitations to drinks or meals this time. I waited two days before I went to see him. I again prepared carefully, dressing in a leather mini skirt, a glittery Lurex top, and knee length red leather boots. I exaggerated my make-up with heavy eye colour and garish lipstick. I was pleased with the sluttish look I achieved but wore a long topcoat so as not to draw attention to myself. I didn't want the concierge to think I was a hooker. I carried a large handbag into which I put certain items I had obtained since my last visit.

"Oh mistress, you came." He cried joyfully, when I swept into his rooms. "I am so happy to see you."

"Well, I am not very happy to see you," I scolded him. "On you knees and greet me properly, you snivelling turd."

He immediately dropped to his knees and kissed the toes of my boots and fondled the four-inch heels. He was dressed in a velvet smoking jacket (of a type made famous by Noel Coward) and monogrammed slippers, so he clearly had no intention of going out. This suited me also as I was already painfully hard and very excited in anticipation of events to come; I desperately wanted to indulge my sadistic streak again. I had relived our last encounter many times, and the memory of whipping his huge flabby body had been the subject of several masturbatory fantasies. (I had even fantasised spanking Mummy but realized it was not on. Not unless I could devise a plan that would seem natural to her and not appear as though I was attacking her for no good reason.)

"Go and fetch me a drink, slave."

He quickly crawled away, disappearing into another room. While he was gone I opened my bag and withdrew a heavy iron neck collar and wrist and ankle manacles. I had purchased them from a web site that specialized in medieval torture equipment. I had also obtained a wide leather slapper, one side was plain but the other was studded with iron spikes.

He eventually retuned walking on his knees and carrying my drink on a silver salver. He bowed low as he presented it to me. I took it, sat back on the couch and sipped. He waited my next command on hands and knees. I put my feet onto his back and relaxed, enjoying my drink and savouring the enormous thrill I got from the power I had over this important person. Who would imagine that the man who ran a major hospital department, and had hundreds of staff at his beck and call, was now cowering at my feet, waiting to be flogged and humiliated?

"Raise up my skirt, you cur," I said, lowering my feet from his back, "and pull down my panties." When he'd done as I ordered, I said, "Now suck my cock."

He fell on my shaft as a child would a stick of rock, sucking it deeply into his mouth. He gently caressed and squeezed by balls with one hand and stroked my rod with the other. I was in heaven. I lay back and watched him work; taking occasional sips of my drink. Several times I had to make him stop so as not to come too soon. He sucked like an expert, skilfully keeping me on the very brink of ejaculating, sensing when to ease off and when to speed up. After twenty minutes I could withhold no longer. Grabbing his head I jammed into his throat and let go. I shot four rounds in quick succession and a fifth and sixth slower. He swallowed all I gave him, greedily gulping my spunk down.

"That was very nice, you are an excellent cocksucker." I said. Where did you learn to suck dick so expertly?"

"Thank you Mistress. Your praise is all I desire. Believe it or not, you are the only person I have ever sucked. I think it just comes naturally."

I looked at him a bit sceptically when he declared his inexperience but made no comment. Instead I said. " Ok, pig. Stand up and undress."

As I thought he was naked under his robe. The marks I'd inflicted the last time had faded and his skin was again startlingly white. Apart from a small tuft of pubic hair his gross body was totally hairless. The rolls of fat sagged from his belly so that it was nearly impossible to see his tiny penis. His great floppy breasts hung down and I noticed his nipples were very prominent, being perhaps half an inch in length.

I handed him the iron neck collar and a small padlock and told him to put it on. It was barely large enough to encompass his fat neck but he managed and snapped the lock. Next I gave him the ankle irons and two more padlocks. He didn't need telling what to do with them; he bent and snapped them on. The chain that joined each ankle was only a foot in length necessitating him to take small shuffling steps. Finally I handed him the last chain and cuffs and he locked them onto his wrists. He stood before me chained and manacled looking dejected and humiliated. I looked at him for a long moment; this huge fat man, chained and helpless, totally in my power and wondered what it was that turned him on so. I was surprised to see that his little cock was starting to erect (as was my own - again).

Standing behind him I affixed another length of chain to his neck collar. Giving it a smart jerk I dragged him into the foyer where there was a convenient radiator onto which I locked the leash chain. Because of the short length of the chain he was obliged to lie on the cold quarry tiles. I gave him a kick in the side and left him.

I fixed myself another drink, switched on the TV and watched for an hour. Getting bored with television I wandered around the apartment looking into cupboards and drawers. I soon discovered his selection of canes, and also, much to my surprise an artificial penis and several butt plugs of varying sizes. Leaving them in the lounge I went and released him, making him crawl back with his chains clanking.

"What is the meaning of this, you filthy pervert?" I demanded, holding up the huge black dildo. "And these?" indicating the plugs.

"Oh, Mistress," he whined. "Please don't be angry. I only use them on myself, for my own personal pleasure."

"Show me how you use this." I handed him the dildo.

He held it in two hands and brought his mouth to it, sucking it as he had done my cock earlier. So, this was how he had become so expert at fellatio.

"And these?" I held up the largest butt plug. "Show me."

He took the proffered object, covered it with saliva, and then inserted it into his rectum. I could see it was a painful entry by the grimace on his face, but he forced it in till the flange on its base stopped it disappearing completely.

"For that disgusting display of self abuse you will have to be punished. Twenty strokes of the cane to start with."

I picked up a thin rattan, tested its resiliency, and then brought it swishing through the air to land diagonally across his arse cheeks. He let out a startled cry. "Keep sucking, you revolting cocksucker."

I cut again landing square on the base of the butt plug, forcing it further into him. I concentrated all twenty hits on his buttocks, trying to land them in a small area to cause the most pain. I paused between each stroke, giving him time to feel the sting spread through his quivering flesh. My arm was soon aching but I didn't stop till he'd received the full quota.

Beating him was hard work and was making me hot, both sexually and physically so I removed my skirt and top. I was now in only my bra, garter belt, stockings and boots; my prick was again throbbing hard and protruding like the jib of a schooner.

"Stand up." I barked. He struggled to his feet still clutching the dildo and sucking it energetically. I was thrilled to see that he was now fully hard and was delighted that I was helping him overcome his impotency. My attention was drawn to his erect nipples, which had reacted in the same way as his baby prick. Whilst snooping around I'd seen exactly what I now needed in a cupboard under the sink and promptly fetched two. They were old-fashioned wooden mousetraps with a strong spring that when released broke the mouse's neck. Prising the metal trap open I positioned his nipple under it and let it go. He groaned in agony as his tender nipple was pinched in the trap. His groan turned to a scream when I treated the other in a similar manner.

I now went to work in earnest on his flabby body; first with a leather tawse and then with my new slapper. It was shaped like a pliable elongated table tennis bat, about 3 inches wide and a foot long. It made a very satisfying slap as it landed and it was not long before his upper body took on a pink hue. His screams were getting louder, especially when I struck the dangling mousetraps on his nipples; so that I began to worry someone might hear and call the police. I solved the noise problem by simply balling up my panties and jamming them into his mouth.

The sexual tension in my body was such that I didn't think I could keep up the beating much longer without cumming, and I didn't want to waste my seed. So I roughly grabbed the neck chain and secured it to the leg of the sofa. I pulled it tight so that his head was on the floor and his rear sticking up. Going behind his elevated buttocks I tore the plug from his anus and immediately replaced it with my cock. I sank effortlessly into him and waited while his anal muscles contracted around my buried penis. When I could feel the tight grip on my cock I began fucking him; slowly at first then gradually increasing my thrusts till I was pounding into him like a battering ram. At the same time I used the spiked side of the slapper on his back, flanks and buttocks. In my lust-fuelled frenzy I soon drew blood and would have done considerable damage to his ravaged flesh had I not exploded in a glorious orgasm. I was amazed that my balls held so much spunk. I pumped several very large gouts of jism into him.

Gradually my pistoning hips slowed down and stopped. I withdrew my softening organ from his anus and collapsed onto my back beside him.

He was mumbling something I couldn't make out, so I removed my panties from his mouth. "My neck. Please. I'm chocking." I heard him gasp. My befuddled brain registered what he said and I leant over and released the chain from the chair leg. He rolled over and lay on his back beside me. I looked at his heaving chest then at his ravaged nipples. I released the mousetraps. Examining him closely for further damage I was astonished to see clear drops of fluid on the head of his little penis and in his pubic hair. Sir David had come!

 

Chapter Seven

I left Sir David lying on his back with a contended smile on his lips and went and took a long, hot bath. I renewed my make-up, (in my usual tasteful style, and not the over the top, street-walker look), brushed my hair and dressed. When I was done I went to collect the shackles and say goodbye. I knew immediately on re-entering the room that Sir David was dead. His normal white pallor had acquired a bluish tint and his usual heaving chest was still. I never-the-less checked his pulse and heartbeat and they quickly confirmed what I suspected.

I removed the chains from him and put them back in my bag along with the slapper. I wiped the canes, whips, plugs and the dildo that I'd handled and returned them to their hiding place. If there was a criminal investigation into his death I didn't want my fingerprints found on these things. They would be all over the apartment, of course, but as his guest that was to be expected. I put my topcoat on, pulled up the collar and tied a scarf round my head.

After a final check around I slipped out and headed for the stairs. I walked down four flights then took the ancient elevator to the lobby. I was relieved that the foyer appeared to be empty but I made myself walk casually and not to hurry in case my movements were recorded on CCTV. I walked out of the main door, crossed the street and entered a park opposite. I found a seat where I could see the entrance to the apartment block and used my mobile phone to call the concierge.

It was answered after six rings by a grumpy sounding voice. "Hello," I said, "I have been trying to contact Sir David Chester but he is not answering. I know he is in and I'm worried something may have happened to him. Could you please go and check that he's Ok?"

"Maybe he doesn't want to talk."

"He does because he asked me specifically to phone him at this time as I have important news for him. Please, just go and check, it wont take you very long." I put on my best girly pleading voice.

"Well, alright then. Ring me back in half an hour."

I didn't need to call back. After ten minutes an ambulance pulled up outside and two paramedics ran inside. Now that I knew he had been found I walked away, found a taxi and went home.

The news hit the papers the next morning. - Sir David Chester, the Head of the Neurology department, at Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital, had been found dead in his apartment late yesterday evening. A post mortem would be carried out later in the day but preliminary evidence suggested he had had a massive heart attack. He is survived by his wife, Marjory, his son David Jnr. and daughter Annabelle. Messages of sympathy from his many friends and associates… etc etc. I scanned all the papers and was relieved to see there was no mention anywhere of any deviant sexual practices. No doubt the whole affair would be hushed up.

It was some four weeks later that a courier delivered a registered envelope addressed to Miss Alice Ashford. I signed for it then took it to my room before opening it. The covering letter was from Messr. Hobbs and Guiney, Solicitors, and read as follows;

Dear Miss Ashford,

You may be aware that our client, Sir David Chester died recently. In his will he stipulated that the enclosed envelope be delivered to you unopened and with the seal intact.

In accordance with his wishes we are forwarding the said package to you.

Assuring you of our best attention.

Your etc.

 

I examined the other envelope. I was good quality paper and was sealed with blob of red sealing wax on the back. I slid my finger under the flap and opened it. I glanced at the date and a quick mental calculation told me it had been written 18 years ago.

My darling Alice,

How can you forgive me? I am an absolute monster. I have no excuses for my behaviour, what I have done to you is unforgivable.

I am being sent away to finish my education; I have a new passport and a new name. I am now David Chester. I have been forbidden to contact you in any way, but I am making arrangements so that eventually you will know the truth of my disappearance, and will not believe that I ran away to avoid my responsibility.

I know that daddy has tied to make amends with a generous gift, but that only makes me feel more inadequate and useless. I am being treated like some boy who is not accountable for his actions, but this is not the case.

In an effort to correct this I have today invested a large part of my inheritance in a fund that will, upon my death, be made payable to your, as yet unborn baby, so that he or she will be provided for. The same solicitors who are executing my will have details of the account. You must contact them with this letter as evidence.

Dearest Alice I hope after all this time you are able to forgive me. I shall think of you always and how things might have been. Goodbye my love, we shall not meet again.

Your ever loving,

Davy Chesterfield.

 

 

I read and re-read the letter. Slowly the astounding implications began to sink in. This letter was written soon after my mother had been raped and become pregnant. The culprit was the brilliant young medical student, Davy Chesterfield, who had metamorphosed into David Chester, and whom I in turn had been raping and abusing. (I couldn't help thinking there was a certain symmetry in the events of 18 years ago and of the more recent time). But the overwhelming, incredible and indisputable fact was that the late Sir David Chester was my father!

I was absolutely stunned. Not only had I committed incest with my mother but also I now learn, I was guilty of the same sin with my father. How utterly depraved had I become? To what further depths could I sink?

What should I do? What was there to do? He was dead, and no amount of remorse would bring him back. I couldn't possibly tell Mother of course. Even if she remembered what had happened the news would destroy her. And there was the money. How would I explain that? After many hours wrestling with the problem I could see only one course of action. Do and say nothing.

The post mortem revealed that Sir David had died from a massive heart attack, brought about by a combination of his life-style, his obesity and the cigars he habitually smoked. I was greatly relieved because until the cause of his death had been established I felt I was responsible, that the beating I had given him had been too much for his heart to take. In due course an inquest was held. I sat at the back of the court and heard the coroner ascribe his death to natural causes. As I suspected no mention was made of any bizarre sexual practices. Someone was obviously influential enough to ensure that the whole sordid business was kept quiet.

I visited the offices of Messrs Hobbs and Guiney, solicitors. They satisfied themselves that I was a genuine claimant and handed over the bankbook. I was staggered by the amount of money in the account, more than enough to last a lifetime.

I requested a leave of absence from my college, explaining that circumstances demanded that I spend more time with my mother during her rehabilitation. This was granted so Mummy and I took a holiday to the sunshine. I rented an exclusive and expensive apartment on the island of Tenerife, and for a month we lazed in the sun, a mother and daughter on holiday together. I wasn't sure whether I would continue with my studies or not. After all, I was now so wealthy I didn't need to work again.

Before we departed on our holiday I wrote to Sir David's widow and expressed my sorrow at his death. I was very surprised to receive a reply saying the Sir David had often spoken about his 'star' pupil and what an extremely intelligent and attractive girl I was. She also said that she would be most interesting in meeting me as she would like to discuss how certain marks had come to be on Sir David's body. So perhaps I would be good enough to call and arrange a time.

But that's another story.

 

The end

 

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