Discovering Melissa

by Melissa Losely

 

Part 2 – Returning Home

 

Our hero begins this chapter having been tricked into wearing his girlfriend's lingerie. She takes pictures of him and blackmails him, making him shave his legs and have his ears pierced. She instructs him to go to a shop selling specialist clothing and collect items ordered over the phone. He is persuaded to try on high heels, a wig and a corset. When he comes to leave he cannot get the corset undone and the shop staff will not help him. He is forced to leave the shop still tightly laced into the corset underneath his street clothes.

The story continues as he leaves the shop…

I picked up the bags and followed Caroline outside while she held the door open. We crossed the road and made our way to the car. I was thankful that there was no-one close by as the jacket flapped open and I had my hands full. We placed the bags in the boot and on the back seat and Caroline wished me a good day. She turned and stepped carefully across the road in her high heels, returned to the doorway and vanished.

I opened the driver door and tried to get into the car. Getting in was a challenge, as I couldn't bend forward. I tried two or three times, but I couldn't bend in the middle any more. I thought about this again. How did women get into cars? The whole thing was brought into perspective as a woman emerged from one of the other shops opposite. I quickly bobbed down on my haunches behind the door and then managed to slide sideways on to the seat from there. It wasn't elegant, but it got me into the car. I picked up the map book and opened it as a shield as I watched the woman cross to the car park and get into one of the other cars. After a moment she drove off.

I then used the map book in earnest to plan a route home that would avoid the main routes and hot spots. It was getting quite late in the afternoon, so I didn't want to take too long and get caught in the end of day rush. I drove out of the car park and made my way back to the house by a long circuitous route, driving carefully and not drawing attention to myself. No one stopped me or even paid much heed, for which I was extremely grateful.

I drew up on the driveway and stopped the car. I breathed slowly and as deeply as the corset permitted and prepared myself for the necessary encounter with my girlfriend. This had to end, now.

I made sure I had my keys and then got out of the car and made my way quickly to the back door, which exposed me less to the neighbours. I unlocked the door and stepped inside. The house was quiet, but I could hear a radio or TV somewhere. I walked through the kitchen and into the hall where I found her waiting for me.

She was wearing a matching set of lingerie, black lacy bra, suspenders and panties. She had black stockings and her black stiletto sandals on and bright red lipstick, but not much else. The bra showed lots of cleavage and she had spent time on her make-up. She looked delicious.

"Hello darling," she smiled sweetly. "How did you get on? Ooh, I like your earrings."

"You know very well how I got on. Now I want you to undo this, right now." I pointed to my chest.

"Oh, but sweetheart, I haven't seen how it looks yet." She walked around me, keeping close; her heels clicking lightly on the tile floor.

"You had an extra earring done. How nice. You must have liked it." She touched my ear lightly with one finger.

"You have to get me out of this thing, right now," I continued, refusing to be distracted.

"Let me see then." She purred, slipping the jacket off my shoulders.

I undid the buttons on the shirt and shrugged out of it, turning so that she could undo the knots. Instead she walked around me again.

"And the rest, the trousers too," she purred, slipping a finger into the waistband and tugging lightly.

It was all coming off anyway, so I used the coat stand to lean on while I reached down and removed my shoes and then undid my belt, allowing my trousers to slip onto the floor. I kicked them aside, standing on the cold tile floor in my stockings.

She prowled around me, stroking the material and drawing her hand along the curves.

"It's very exotic," she commented.

"I want it off. Now," I persisted.

"Not just yet, sweetheart. I want to see what else you've brought home."

"No," I said. "It ends now. I'll take it all back. It cost an arm and a leg." I was getting angry again.

"Ah, the price of beauty," she mused, with an airy gesture.

"Take it off me now." I turned on her.

"Or what? What will you do? Hurt little me?" she purred.

"I have had enough!" I shouted. You knew perfectly well that I couldn't take this off on my own, but you told that woman…" I was getting short of breath again. "That woman… not to help." I was panting. I felt my cheeks flush and I needed to sit down. I staggered back towards the kitchen.

She followed me and pulled a chair out. I perched on the edge, trying to breathe.

"Perfect," she said, "absolutely perfect." She went back into the hall and returned carrying the handcuffs, which she must have left somewhere handy.

"What are you doing?" There were little green spots in front of my eyes.

"I am using my superior strength and speed," she explained in a matter of fact way.

She grabbed hold of my wrist and pushed it towards the cuff. I tried to resist, but all my strength had deserted me. The hand entered the cuff and she closed it, squeezing it on with a clicking sound.

"You can't do this to me," I protested in panic, the green spots flaring again.

"Then stop me." She smiled wickedly.

She moved around me, twisting my arm, forcing me to lean forward on the seat. I tried to wrench my wrist away, but her grip felt like iron. This could not be happening. Despite my attempts to evade her, she grabbed my other wrist and pulled it around behind my back. I felt the cold metal of the cuff press closed around my wrist. She released me and I sat back upright, my wrists cuffed behind me.

"Let me go right now!" I demanded. The room saw spinning, but I forced myself not to panic. I tugged at the restraints.

She went back into the hall and out of my view for a moment, returning with her left hand behind her back, hiding something.

"This has gone quite far enough," I insisted.

She walked slowly around behind me and I twisted around as far as the corset would allow, until she went behind the chair. I shuffled around to meet her gaze on the other side, but as I turned my head to the other side her hand came around from behind me and pressed something against my lips, hard.

"Ahhhghh! Get ophh!" I tried to twist away, but her other hand was on the back of my neck, pressing me forward.

I jerked from side to side but the pressure increased, forcing my lips apart.

"Aaaaammmmmmppphhh." She prised my jaw apart and wedged something between my teeth, pushing it home until it sank over my tongue. She tugged at straps attached to it, pulling me back onto the chair, then threaded the straps. There was a slight relaxation as she fiddled with the straps, then it jerked tight again, staying strapped tight around my cheeks as she released it.

She let go, leaving me with my head swimming and my breath snorting through my nose. I shook my head trying to dislodge it, but it was strapped on tight. My lips were stretched tightly around a huge ball, which tasted horrible.

"You see Melissa? You're not the only one who's been shopping."

"mmmmppphh." I shook my head again.

"Oh I'm pleased you like it. It really suits you so much better than that mouthy lip you were giving me earlier."

She walked out, leaving me perched on the chair cuffed and gagged. I panted through my nose, trying to breathe enough to clear the dizziness. After a while, I started to get my breath back, but it didn't help me much.

I struggled to try and free the cuffs, but they were locked on tight and I could hardly wriggle, the corset was so restrictive. I heard her go upstairs and a few moments later she came down again and went outside. I heard her go back and forth to the car, presumably collecting the bags of shopping I had left there. I was forced to wait until she had finished. I heard her close the front door and go back upstairs. There was a long wait while nothing happened. By this time my breathing had returned to normal and I was okay, but inside I was fuming. How dare she do this to me? I concentrated on maintaining my calm so that the dizziness wouldn't return.

I began to think she wasn't coming back for me. I could try standing, but without my hands to support me as I stood up in the corset, I might end up falling flat on my face. I stayed put.

There was noise from the stairs and she appeared. She had put on a black skirt and top over the lingerie, presumably before going outside, but other than that looked the same. She was carrying the shoebox from the shop.

"Still with us Melissa?" she taunted. I ignored her.

She knelt down on the kitchen floor by my feet and took the lid off the box. She grasped my ankle and lifted my foot. I didn't resist as I had little chance of succeeding in my current predicament. She slipped one of the black stiletto shoes onto my stockinged foot and then the other, leaving me sitting with my feet together in the high heels.

"An important part of looking good is choosing the right shoes, Melissa," she explained, pointing to her own shoes. "Walking elegantly in them also takes practice."

She took a black shiny strap from the box, which she threaded through the back of the heel and around my ankle. Then she did the same with the other ankle. Then she reached into the bottom of the box and pulled out something shiny. She fiddled with each strap for a moment and then there was a slight 'snick' noise.

"There, you should get lots of practice now, Melissa."

In puzzlement I turned my knee sideways and looked down at my foot. The slim shiny heel narrowed sharply downwards from the back of the shoe where it cupped my heel. A thin strap was now threaded through a loop at the back of the shoe. Attached to the strap was a small brass padlock. I checked the other foot and it was the same. I was locked into the heels.

"Up," she demanded.

I certainly couldn't rise on my own, without my hands free, wearing heels. I sat and shook my head. There was a stinging slap on my exposed thigh, just above the stocking.

"mmmmphh."

"Up, I said. I want to see you walk in those heels."

I edged myself forward and tried to stand, almost tottering over before I found my balance. It was easier once I was upright

I took a few experimental steps towards the hallway, shuffling along.

"No, no, walk like this." She pushed past me and walked elegantly down the hall, heels clicking, keeping one step in front of the other and swaying slightly with her step.

I did my best to emulate her, but with my hands behind me it was difficult.

"You'll have to do better than that, my girl."

I tried again, but couldn't get the same rhythm. The heels reached the ground long before the toes and tipped me forward, causing me to hesitate and falter.

"Again," she demanded.

"ummm mmphh" I protested, but complied, tottering up and down.

"You walk like a farm girl, Melissa. You had best improve or I will think of ways to encourage you." That sounded ominous.

I tried to get more of a rhythm and succeeded in smoother progress. It was more difficult with my hands pinned behind me. You had to let go of your normal ideas of walking and think of it more as waltzing along.

"That's better. Now let your hips move with it."

I relaxed my step a little and found myself swaying at the hips in an overtly feminine flirty way. I stopped swaying and went back to sliding.

"No! Like you were. Otherwise I'll have you doing this all night."

My ankles were already aching from the steep arch in the shoe and I couldn't bear much more. I went back to swaying, emphasising the girly swing in the step. The click of my own heels on the tiles started to sound like hers rather than the shuffling scraping sound of before.

"Good. Now don't forget it. I want you to walk like that whenever you are wearing heels. Understand?" I nodded.

"Now, if you are feeling a little more compliant I can take that gag off for you. Are you?" I nodded again.

"Then come here and I'll undo it."

I walked over and turned my back.

"Now go back and do it again, this time walking properly."

I walked back to where I was and then did the girly walk back again, feeling ashamed at my sorry state but swinging my hips for all I was worth. I turned my back and this time she released the strap and pulled out the gag with a wet slurp.

"Oh God, that's better," I said. I felt a sharp pinch on my exposed rear.

"Aaaah!" I jumped, tottering forward

"That's better, what?" she demanded.

"That's better, Mistress," I quickly completed, relieved as she smiled in satisfaction.

"Excellent. Now go upstairs to the bedroom. I have some things for you to try on."

I looked at the stairs.

"Mistress, I would feel safer if I could have my hands free on the stairs. I might trip on the stairs in these shoes," I pleaded.

"Hmm. Well I would need your assurance of complete co-operation before I release you again."

I considered her words. It wasn't as if I could offer much resistance anyway, so I decided to agree.

"I will do as you ask Mistress. Please." I turned the cuffs towards her.

She considered for a moment and then she went to the drawer in the hallstand and collected the key, releasing the cuffs and popping them back in to the drawer. I noted where the key had gone for future reference.

"Upstairs then, Melissa."

I complied. Getting upstairs was harder than I thought. The shoes meant that I had to point my toes on each stair and the heel wouldn't always land on the step. I held onto the rail and adjusted to more sideways movement and that seemed to work better. I reached the top and went into the bedroom to find the bed covered in boxes and bags.

She followed me in.

"We have some work to do first, Melissa, before we can start trying things out. Come over here and sit down."

She indicated a stool at the dressing table in front of the big mirror. I swayed over and sat down on the edge. She picked up my wrist and examined my fingers.

"That won't do at all," she muttered to herself.

She went to the bed and picked up a small bag, extracting a box from it. She opened the box and tipped out a collection of pale plastic ovals onto the dresser. She picked up one and took my hand, positioning it so that it extended out over my natural nail. She carefully selected 10 from the ones in the box, each one a similar width to my own, but much longer. I would have liked to protest, but my recent experience told me that she was determined to go through with this and protesting would only make her think of something worse.

She took a small vial from the box and spread a clear liquid onto the back of my little fingernail, pressing the false nail onto the top, firmly. After a moment she let go, leaving the false nail attached. She repeated this for each nail on both hands until I had a full set of nails with the ends extending well beyond the fingertips. They felt tight against my fingernails and after she had finished, I wiggled my fingers, noting how they made my fingers appear longer.

"Wait until they're painted. I think we'll have Bordeaux Gloss, the same as your toes," she said, smiling at me.

She took the bottle of polish and placed my hands on the dresser, proceeding to stroke the little brush over each fingernail in turn until each nail was coated with shiny plum lacquer. She had me sit still at the dresser while she rummaged in the bags on the bed, partially observed by me in the mirror, until the first coat was dry and she could give them a second coat, deepening the colour and the gloss.

"We'll just leave that to dry for a bit," she remarked.

She used a finger to draw my chin around and looked at me appraisingly. Then she picked up a bottle of pale liquid and began smoothing it in to my face. I didn't like where this was going, but couldn't really see what I could do about it. At least it meant I didn't have to stand around in the high heels and I could give my aching ankles a rest.

She swapped for a bottle of flesh coloured cream, which she started spreading over my face and down onto my neck with a sponge. She smoothed it out, making sure it covered my face completely. Then she dusted powder over the top of that, using a huge fluffy brush in short strokes. She spent some time checking each side and brushing powder on the bits she wasn't happy with.

"Keep still a moment and close your eyes." She instructed.

I shut my eyes, not knowing what to expect.

"No. I said close them, don't scrunch them up." I relaxed my eyes, but kept them closed.

"Ow! Stop that." She was plucking hairs from my eyebrows. I opened them again.

"Shut up. I have to do this all the time." She was using tweezers to pluck out eyebrow hairs.

"But it hurts." I explained.

"Yes, but only slightly. I do this all the time and I don't whinge about it, do I?"

"But someone will notice." I protested.

"Shut up or I'll shave them off and you'll have to paint them on." She threatened. I shut up.

She carried on for a moment or two, pausing to consider between plucks.

"Close your eyes again." I closed them cautiously.

After a moment I felt a light brush stroke repeatedly across one eye and then the other. There was a pause and then it repeated, each time on a different area. Then it changed to a tickling touch drawn across my closed lashes. This was slow and light along the edges of my eyelids. It too repeated and then stopped.

"You can open now. No, look at me, not the mirror." She caught my chin with her hand, stopping me from seeing what she had done.

"Now this will be a little alarming, but it doesn't hurt as long as you keep still."

She lifted a metal contraption up to my eye, far closer than I was comfortable with, and manipulated it. It clamped onto my eyelashes and held there for a moment. Then she let go and did the same on the other eye. Then she returned to the first and repeated her action, holding it for longer, and repeated that on the other eye.

Appearing satisfied, she took a tube from the dressing table and unwound the cap, revealing a dark spiral brush on a stalk. She used this against my eyelashes, drawing it upwards slowly again and again. It was alarming to see this dark brush appear waving close to my eyes, but I did my best to ignore it.

"Look up at the ceiling." I did as she asked.

She drew the brush over my lower lashes a few times and then used a pencil to draw under them as I stared at a fixed point on the ceiling.

"You can look down, but not in the mirror yet, Melissa. Turn around this way." I dropped my gaze, enormously tempted to see what see had done but she turned me so that my back was to the mirror.

She took the large brush and a circular case and dusted powder over my cheeks, tilting my head one way and another to compare.

"Stretch your lips like this." She demonstrated.

I followed her example and she used a pencil to draw around the edge of my lips, carefully following the edges. She then unwound a lipstick in glossy purple.

"This should match your nails, Melissa."

She used a brush to dab into the lipstick and paint purple onto my lips. This was somehow the most humiliating as she had me stretch and pout to receive the glossy colour. I blushed as I complied, but she made no comment, only blotting the colour with tissue and adding another layer on the top.

"Wait there. No looking."

She put away the make-up and then searched among the shopping bags until she produced the wig. She extracted it from the box and removed it from the stand.

"A nice style, Melissa," she smiled.

She lifted the wig over my head and then pulled it forward, stretching the cap inside over my own short hair so that it snapped tightly onto my skull. She positioned it and then stood back.

"Okay, Melissa. Give it a good shake." I shook my head, turning it from side to side, setting the ends whirling and striping across my face.

"No. Try and shake it off."

It seemed an odd instruction, but I shook my head madly sending the long hairs into a mad frenzy. The wig didn't come off. I shook harder, snapping my head forward, but that only hurt my neck, leaving me looking through the tangled strands.

"Excellent," she declared and carefully combed the hair out straight again, spending some time brushing and curling the ends under.

Pushing the hair back behind my ears, she fiddled with my ear lobes, removing the gold ring from each side. I had gotten used to them being there and having them removed felt odd, somehow.

She took the perfume spray from the dressing table and sprayed it onto my neck again, once on each side. She lifted my wrist and sprayed some there too, instructing me to rub my wrists together and leaving me in a scented cloud. She took one of the smaller packages from the bed and extracted a small box. From it she took a small silver hoop from which depended a tiny sleigh bell.

"Isn't it cute?" she exclaimed, swinging it so that it tinkled slightly.

She turned back to the dresser, collecting the other and then tilted my chin away so that she could thread it. I could hear it tinkling as she threaded the ring. Then she moved to the other side and threaded that one.

"There," she announced, "they're not coming off anytime soon." She showed me the nail glue in the palm of her hand, grinning as I realised that she had glued the rings closed. My hand shot up to feel what she'd done and my nails clattered against it, jingling the bells. I had some difficulty feeling where the earrings were joined with the long nails hampering me. In fact, I couldn't find the join at all. I let go, thinking how this was one more layer of this charade that I would have to escape from.

I sat and watched as she opened the stapled carrier bags and opened boxes, peeking so I could not see what was inside. She stopped.

"What are these, Melissa." She held up a pair of rubber panties in pale pink.

"I don't know. You ordered them," I responded, still cross at the glued-on earrings, "Mistress," I added at her look of displeasure.

"I didn't order these," she commented, taking a closer look and pulling out a sheet of paper. She read through it for a moment and then screwed it up, smiling at me.

"The women in the shop did say something about a present for a valued customer," I admitted.

"So I see. Move over there away from the mirror and take your panties off, Melissa."

I stood up, balancing on the heels and remembering her instructions, and swayed over beyond the end of the bed. The swaying motion caused the little bells below my ears to tinkle slightly as I walked. I tried to slide the panties down off my hips, but it was difficult in the hampering nails. Eventually using one hand on the bed to steady myself, I stepped out of them.

"Put these on instead. After all, those are mine and these, apparently, are yours." She retrieved hers from the floor as she said this and handed me the rubber ones.

I had to sit down on the end of the bed to do this. When I examined them I found that they were layered with a pocket designed into them at the front but with no back, only a couple of straps hanging from the waistband.

"The pocket is to hide your manhood, Melissa. After all, a girl can't be doing with all of that flopping about in her knickers," she laughed.

I bent forward stiffly and pointed my toes through the openings in the panties, being careful not to snag the rubber on the sharp heels. Then I tugged them up over the stockings until they were above my knees. I stood up again, balancing on the heels, and pulled them up to the top of my thighs.

"I think those are meant to go under your suspenders, Melissa. Here, let me." She volunteered.

She came and knelt in front of me.

"This isn't what normally happens when I assume this position, is it darling?" she teased. "Now put your hands on your head like a good girl." I did as she asked.

She unclipped the suspenders on my stockings one by one; extracting them from underneath the rubber and having me turn to one side and then the other to do the back ones.

As I looked down at her, she took my semi-swollen prick in her fingers, her red nails bright against the flesh. She made as if to kiss the end with her red lips and it pulsed in response, swelling. She took her other hand and pulled the front of the panties out and down, at the same time pushing my penis downwards. My rapidly stiffening prick was forced downward, causing me to catch my breath and lean forward, bending my knees.

She continued pushing down, pulling the panties forward over the end. I dropped my hands to try and stop her.

"Hands on head!" she snapped, digging in her nails. I rapidly complied.

She guided the swollen end of my prick into the opening inside the front of the panties and pressed it into the inner sleeve while I wriggled in discomfort. My prick softened a little under this onslaught and slid inside. She pulled the front up, keeping it captive and used her other hand to hitch the sides up. My prick slid downward, pulsing as the tight rubber slid along its length, part pleasure, part pain. She let go of the front and my prick was pressed inwards and down again as the rubber pulled it in. She tugged the suspenders down again to clip them onto the stockings so that they were over the top of the rubber panties.

"Turn around so that I can do the back." I hobbled around, bent over in discomfort. How was I ever to walk like this?

I felt her tugging the suspenders down again to attach to them back to the stockings before pulling the waistband on the rubber panties upwards so that it sat on my waist at the back.

She used her thumbs to slide around the top from behind, pulling them up further up onto my hips, and I felt my prick slid down more between my legs.

"How's that?" She stood and walked back around to face me.

"Rather uncomfortable, actually Mistress," I admitted, still bent at the waist. She walked around me. There was still a large bulge in the front of the panties, which she ignored.

"You're gaping at the back, Melissa."

She ran a finger down between my cheeks.

"You can put your hands down now," she allowed, as she stood up again.

I dropped my hands, but it was still uncomfortable to stand up straight.

"Now walk over to the door and back, please Melissa."

I took a hesitant step, unbalanced by the discomfort in my crotch.

"Walk properly, Melissa," she ordered.

I tried to walk more upright and swing my hips as before and as I did so, each swinging motion slid my bulging prick down between my thighs a little more, until after a few steps there was a further sliding sensation. My prick flattened against my pubic bone and the head of my prick emerged from a hole underneath and between my legs. I stopped, momentarily, caught by the sensation of my prick head emerging between my thighs. The sensation of being bent over vanished and I could stand up straight again.

"Keep going, Melissa."

I walked to the bedroom door and turned back. As I walked with steps one in front of the other, my thighs rubbed against the head of my prick trapped between my legs, a feeling that was not unpleasant. I returned to stand in front of her.

"That's better." She commented, stroking her hand down through the heart shaped pubic hair and over the small mound of my trapped prick. "Now just give me a moment."

She went back to the pile of packages, returning with a tiny pair of sheer black panties.

"You can put these on now." She instructed.

I sat down on the bed again, finding that the bed cover rubbed against my exposed prick head as I did so, making me sit straighter so that I could protect it between my legs. I leaned forward to pull the panties over my shoes, being careful not to snag the heels, and slid them up over my knees. Then I stood up carefully and pulled them up over my suspenders and settled them over the rubber pair. They barely covered the rubber ones and would only pull up as far as my hips, leaving a heart shape of pubic hair peeking over the top, while the narrow back slipped between my cheeks leaving most of my rear exposed. They did cover up the exposed head of my prick, though, for which I was grateful.

"A perfect fit. Now I can introduce you to Melissa properly," she declared.

There was a full-length mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door, and it was this that she steered me towards. I noticed that each time I took a step in the tall heels, the bells on my ears would tinkle reminding me of their presence. She walked me round, positioning me so that I would be able to see myself when the door was opened and instructed me to close my eyes. I heard the door open and felt her move around behind me, placing her hands on my shoulders.

"There, Melissa. You can open your eyes now."

I opened them and found myself staring at a stranger. My own mother wouldn't have recognised me. Red-blonde hair framed the face staring back with a fringe at the front and hair that fell to my neck, curling under and revealing the small silver hoops with the little bells dangling from each ear lobe.

My eyes had thick dark lashes, emphasised by the black eyeliner that flicked up at the outer edge of my eyelids. I blinked and the lashes fluttered, showing a flash of silvery green eye shadow against a darker grey. My cheeks were blushed in delicate pink - not the blush of embarrassment, but a delicate flush of colour high on the cheekbones, and my lips had a firm girly pout of rich dark plum. I felt the heat rise in my face as she watched me take this in looking over my shoulder, but noticed that much of the embarrassment was concealed under the make-up.

The corset and stockings gave me a very feminine shape; especially the way the bust was compressed into a cleavage by the corset, which emphasised the narrowed waist beneath it. My legs appeared much longer in the stockings and high heels and there was a neat black triangle framed by the suspenders where my swollen manhood had been. I noted with dismay that the sheer black panties had a heart embroidered in the front panel that echoed the shape of my pubes.

"Just wait there a moment, please Melissa."

I glanced at her as she opened bags on the bed and then returned my gaze to the mirror. I turned my head, amazed at the transformation of my features under the cosmetics, my eyelids flashing sexily as I blinked. I lifted my hand to tease a stray hair back from my cheek and noted that the long glossy nails matched the colour of my lips.

She returned to me carrying a black PVC top, which she held out in front of me. I turned to put my arm in the sleeve.

"No, silly, it goes on this way round. Girls wear things that do up at the back, you know."

I turned back, confused, but she guided my hands into the sleeves and drew it up onto my shoulders, tucking it under my chin and stepping around behind me to draw it together at the back. She reached around and positioned it over my bust, pulling it together behind my waist. I noticed that there was an oval shape cut out below the neck at the front, exposing my fake cleavage. I felt her start to zip it up at the back, tugging it down as she did so to fit snugly around my corseted waist. The zip stiffened as it reached my shoulder blades and the shiny plastic pulled tight across my bust making little horizontal creases. She zipped it to the top and then lifted my hair to buckle the collar at the back to fit closely around my neck.

She turned back to the bed and retrieved a similar shiny bundle that she held at my feet.

"Step into this please, Melissa."

I stepped into the circle of the skirt that she held for me and she drew it up my legs and onto my waist, moving behind me to zip it closed. It had a belt that she cinched tight around my waist and threaded through the keeper. The skirt was flared and made of matching black PVC and was long enough to cover the tops of the stockings. It was also slightly stiff, making it stand out from my legs.

"There," she declared, "Now you're dressed for the evening, Melissa. Just a couple of finishing touches."

She turned back to the bed for a moment and I turned to the mirror. The outfit was shiny black plastic from the high collar to the skirt hem, relieved only by the pale flash of cleavage revealed by the oval cut-out. I turned around to try and get a view of the back over my shoulder and the skirt swung back and forth around me.

"Here we go, Melissa," she announced, coming around to stand behind me. She stepped between the mirror and me and lifted my hair again for a moment, fiddling with the collar buckle. Then she fiddled with the buckle on the skirt. I wondered what she could be doing, when she put one hand on each and there was a double 'snick' sound. She let go and stepped back, and I turned my back to the mirror to see. There was a small brass padlock, similar to the one on the shoes, locked though a hole on the buckle pin on the back of the skirt.

I moved my hair aside and saw a similar one depending from the collar buckle.

"What's that for?" I asked her. "It's not like you'll allow me to take them off without permission, is it?"

She cocked her head at me, listening.

"Mistress?" I added, belatedly.

"We'll see, won't we?" was all she would say.

"Now, Melissa, it's not enough to be dressed up in these sexy clothes, especially as I did most of the work," she added, "but you have to maintain the look as well. I want you to be careful that you always appear as you are now. If there is anything out of place, a skirt wrinkled, a hair out of place or some make-up smudged, you will be punished. Do you understand?"

"I think so, Mistress," I answered, uncertainly.

"You had better be sure," she warned. "You think it's easy looking good, but it takes constant care and maintenance. You're going to learn what that means."

She went to a shopping bag and retrieved a small black shiny handbag. In it she placed a comb from the dressing table and a small circular case, which she opened to show me a mirror and some face powder. She popped this latter into a cosmetics bag, together with a tube of mascara, the blusher and brush and three lipsticks. She zipped the bag shut and placed it in the handbag with a small pack of tissues.

"Whenever your lipstick needs touching up, I want you to change the colour, Melissa. These three should all match your nails, so there's no problem there. Also, you may need to add some mascara or powder your nose. Just be careful not to smudge your make-up and make a mess."

"Yes, Mistress."

"And be careful with your nails, you don't want to break one or chip them, or I'll be cross."

"Yes, Mistress."

She snapped the handbag shut and passed it to me. I wasn't sure what to do with it. I had nowhere to put it, so I just held onto it.

"Now, you can go and make us both a coffee and then find something for supper. I think a little pasta would be okay, but not too much as we want to keep your figure, don't we?"

"Yes, Mistress." I stood waiting for whatever was next.

"Well go on then."

I turned to walk out remembering to swing my hips and finding that the skirt swung with me. I put my free hand down to steady it as I walked. As I reached the door, I turned back and she was watching me with some amusement.

"I do believe you're starting to appreciate how much harder it is to be female, Melissa, but you have a way to go yet," she commented.

"Yes, Mistress."

I left.

Having got into the upstairs hall, I had to negotiate my way down the stairs. The skirt flared out and I couldn't see where I was stepping, making the stairs treacherous in the heels. I held onto the banisters with one hand and stepped down slowly sideways until I reached the bottom, my ears tinkling each time I stepped down. Then I walked across the tile floor into the kitchen, heels clicking loudly on the tiles, skirt swishing and ears jingling as I stepped one foot in front of the other. There was no way I could move discreetly.

I reached the kitchen and clicked the kettle on to boil for the coffee, depositing the handbag on the counter top. I opened the cupboard and took out the coffee jar and went to the drawer for a teaspoon. I reached in to extract one and came away empty handed. I tried again and discovered that my nails reached the spoon before my fingers did. I scrabbled in the drawer, trying to pick up the spoon with the long nails hampering me, still without success. How could this be so difficult? I changed strategy and used the pads of my fingers to grasp it, noticing how picking things up this way looked prissy.

I went back and put coffee in the mugs, placing the jar back in the cupboard. I poured water and added milk to one coffee and sugar to the other, as I prefer it black. Then I picked up one mug to take it upstairs again. I realised I had left the handbag on the side and went to get it, then thought it was better to leave it there as I would come back down to cook supper.

I took the coffee upstairs again, being careful not to spill it as I negotiated the stairs in my heels. Going up was easier as I could feel where the next step was with my toes. I reached the bedroom and stopped at the closed door. I knocked.

"Just one moment."

I paused for a moment and the door opened a little.

"Thank you, Melissa. You may go." She took the coffee and closed the door.

What was she doing in there?

I negotiated my way back downstairs and went back into the kitchen. I spent some time putting together some supper using a little salad from the fridge and some pasta and sauce as she suggested. The main problem was opening the packages, which was really fiddly with long nails. I also splashed my top with tomato juice, but was relieved to find that it wiped off the PVC quite easily. It was awkward trying to cook as my bust constantly seemed to be between me and what I was doing.

I sipped my coffee as I worked, initially surprised at the dark lip ring that appeared on the cup at the first sip, but gradually relaxing a little into the routine of activity as I prepared the meal. As night fell, I drew the curtains before turning on the lights, feeling relieved that now no one could look in, and busied myself setting the table for two.

She appeared in the doorway as I did this, leaning against the doorpost. She was wearing a black miniskirt that I hadn't seen before and a white gauzy top that showed the black bra underneath.

"How are you managing, Melissa."

"I'm doing okay, I think, Mistress."

"Have you checked your make-up lately?"

"Err, not recently Mistress." I admitted, "I've been busy."

"A girl is never too busy to look good, Melissa. You still have much to learn. Go and check it now."

She stepped back as I eased past her in the doorway and I went to go to the bathroom.

"Forgetting something?" She enquired.

I stopped to consider, then realised I had left the handbag in the kitchen.

"Excuse me Mistress." She watched as I walked past her, heels clicking and hips swaying, into the kitchen to collect the black bag.

I headed for the stairs and the bathroom.

"You could fix it in the hall mirror, if you like, Melissa."

"Thanks, Mistress, but I'd rather use the bathroom." I didn't want her watching me putting on make-up. It was humiliating as it was.

"Well don't be long. It smells like dinner's almost ready." She went into the kitchen.

I went upstairs as quickly as I could and locked myself in the bathroom. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror to see that the lipstick had smeared sideways onto my cheek. How had that happened? I took a tissue and wiped at it, managing to remove the smear. Then I remembered her instruction to change colour so I used the tissue to remove the rest of the lipstick. Even without it, my lips were still stained as if I had been eating raspberries. I dropped the tissue in the toilet and opened my handbag to get the cosmetics bag.

At that moment I realised that I had referred to my handbag. I didn't have a handbag. What was I saying? I took the handbag and extracted the small bag with the lipsticks in. I put it onto the shelf and dipped into the bag and extracted the three lipsticks, using the pads of my fingers so the nails wouldn't hamper me.

The colours were written on the bases of the lipsticks. There was Bordeaux Gloss, which I assumed I had been wearing before to match the nail colour. The second was Fuchsia Frost and the third was Plum Surprise. I uncapped the fuchsia one and turned the base, revealing a purple-pink stick of colour. I noted that it was unused, implying that it was quite new. I uncapped and unwound the second. It turned out to be a much darker purple with a glossy sheen. Hmmm, it wasn't much of a choice. I could be pink and girly or purple and tarty. I settled on tarty as, somehow, the pink and girly thing seemed worse.

I put the other lipsticks away and unwound the Plum Surprise until it was about a quarter exposed. Then I tightened my lips as she had instructed me before and stroked on the colour across my bottom lip. It left an uneven smear of glossy purple. I got another tissue and wiped it off to try again.

This time I followed the line left by the remaining lip pencil and soon had it reasonably even. Then I did the same with the top lip, following the curve of the top lip to create a girly pout. I didn't like it, but I felt sure that if I did this badly she would send me back to do it again. Then I blotted it with tissue and reapplied it as she had done before.

By the time I had finished I had lips that were coloured in a glossy purple pout. I checked the rest of my face and decide to add a little powder to my cheek to cover the place where the smear had been wiped off.

"Something's buzzing down here!" she called from downstairs.

That would be the supper. I quickly extracted the little case and the powder pad, dabbing a little onto my cheek so that it looked like the rest. I snapped the case shut and popped it back into the cosmetics bag with the lipstick. One last check in the mirror and I dropped the bag into the handbag and snapped it shut.

I exited the bathroom and stepped carefully downstairs to the insistent buzzing from the cooker. I hoped that the pasta hadn't spoiled while I had been touching up my lips. Couldn't touching up make-up wait until after dinner? Apparently not.

I clicked and tinkled my way into the kitchen in time to rescue the pasta and supper. I drained it off using a colander and set it aside while the sauce heated. I took the salad through to find her waiting at the table, looking expectant. She had been busy as there were two glasses of pale wine sitting by our places. I placed the salad down.

"I'll just be a few more minutes Mistress," I apologised, hoping to please her.

"That's all right, Melissa. I like your new lipstick, by the way," she commented.

"Thank you, Mistress."

I went back to the kitchen, serving pasta onto plates and pouring sauce onto it, making a light supper for each of us. I put the pan in the sink to soak, put the oven glove down and sighed in relief, wiping my hand across my mouth as I did so.

I looked in horror at the back of my hand. It was smeared with Plum Surprise. That was how I'd smudged it before. I must have wiped my hand and smeared it over my cheek.

If I repaired it now, she probably wouldn't notice. I opened my handbag and took out the little cosmetics bag, extracting the powder case with the mirror. Then I took a tissue from the box on the worktop and, using the little mirror, carefully wiped the smear away, removing some of the lipstick in the process. Then I powdered over the area lightly and extracted the Plum Surprise lipstick from the bag. Holding the mirror in one hand and the lipstick in the other I carefully went over the area, reapplying colour. I examined it critically. It looked fine.

"Do you need a hand in there?"

I nearly dropped the mirror in surprise when she called through.

"No, Mistress, I'm just coming." My voice wavered in panic.

I popped everything back into the make-up bag and into my handbag, clicking it shut. Then I picked up the plates and went through into the dining room. I placed one plate down in front of her and put one at the empty place for me.

"Is everything okay, Melissa?" she enquired.

"Fine Mistress, Thank you." I sat down at the place, grateful to take the weight off my feet. My ankles were aching in the steep heels.

"Good."

I looked down at my plate as I reached for the cutlery and froze. Across the back of my hand was a streak of lipstick that I had forgotten to wipe off. I looked up and she was regarding me with a stony expression.

"Have you forgotten my instructions, Melissa."

"No Mistress."

"Then perhaps you'd like to explain why your lipstick is smeared on the back of your hand but no sign of a smudge on your lips?"

I searched for a plausible explanation, but could come up with nothing that explained it without implicating my self further.

"It was just a little smudge, Mistress, so I touched it up."

"I see. Well the first thing you should do is go and change your lipstick as I instructed. While you are there, you can add some more mascara and a little more powder and blusher. Understand?"

"Yes Mistress."

I got to my feet again and went back into the kitchen to retrieve my handbag. I went back into the hall, meaning to go upstairs.

"You should use the hall mirror, Melissa."

"Yes, Mistress." Better not to argue.

I stopped in front of the stand and placed my handbag on top of the chest of drawers, taking out the cosmetics bag. I removed the tube of mascara from the bag and unscrewed the wand, lifting my face to the mirror. I looked at the spiral brush on the wand and it seemed overloaded with black mascara. I took a tissue from my bag and wiped some of it off, leaving black smeared on the tissue. Then I carefully used the wand to coat my eyelashes with more mascara using long slow strokes like she had, though they seemed black enough already. I did the same with the other eye and then used the end of the brush to coat the lower lashes as I had seen her do. When I had finished, the lashes seemed almost sooty.

I put the mascara away and took the powder, adding some to my nose and chin where it seemed a little shiny and then extracted the blush powder, using the fluffy brush to emphasise the cheek tones already added earlier. Then I used the tissue to remove the dark purple lipstick from my lips, wiping the telltale streak from the back of my hand in the process.

I took the cosmetics bag and picked out the lipstick called Fuchsia Frost. I unscrewed the base revealing the dark pink stick and stretched my lips to receive the colour. I smoothed the colour over my top lip, following the curves and then coated my bottom lip. The colour was slightly sparkly and caught the light as I turned to inspect my work. I touched up the edge of my mouth and then blotted with a tissue before re-applying the colour over the top.

I checked the overall look, turning my face to check in the mirror. As I had suspected, the Fuchsia lipstick seemed girlier, giving my lips an almost kissable pout. I considered this thought as I put the make-up away and closed my handbag. If she kissed me, would that make her a lesbian? What would that make me?

I put away the make-up and did a final check in the mirror before closing my handbag and going back into the dining room. I stood to her side, waiting for her comment.

"Sit down and eat, Melissa, while I think of a suitable penalty for you not following my instructions."

I went back to my seat, placing the handbag on the floor next to my chair. My mind was racing at the thought of a further penalty. I picked at my pasta, making sure each mouthful didn't touch my lips as I ate and spoil my lipstick. I soon found that I had lost my appetite and only ate about half of it. I picked up the glass of wine. Water had condensed on the lower half of the glass where the wine was cold and I was careful it didn't drip on me as I sat and sipped it. My lips left a fuchsia curve on the glass. I looked up from the glass to find that she had finished her meal and was watching me.

"Finished, Melissa?"

"Yes Mistress. Sorry, I don't seem to have an appetite."

"That's okay. Clear the plates away then, please"

I stood up and picked up the plates, carrying them through into the kitchen where I cleaned them off and put them in the dishwasher. Then I went back for the salad bowl and other things, leaving the wine glasses on the table. I cleared the bowl and things away and went back into the dining room.

She was still seated, but on the table were the handcuffs she had put on me earlier. They were unlocked and open.

"Put them on Melissa."

"Mistress, I'm sorry about the lipstick. It won't happen again, I promise."

"Put them on, please. Or do you want me to put them on for you?"

I hesitated and then decided it would be better if I did it. I mustered my dignity and picked up the cuffs.

"Behind you, please." She added.

I placed one cuff around my wrist and squeezed it closed, feeling it ratchet shut as the lock engaged. I left it slightly loose for comfort. I used my free hand to place the loose cuff into my tethered hand so that I could hold it still behind my back and moved my hands around behind my back. I could feel the opening against my bare wrist and I eased my free hand inside, using my cuffed hand to squeeze the cuff onto my wrist, feeling it ratchet shut as before. I tugged my wrists apart to test them and the cuffs held fast.

"Turn around, please Melissa."

I turned my back to her and felt her tug at the chain connecting the cuffs. She squeezed them slightly, closing the ratchet more tightly onto my wrists.

"Good. You can turn back around now." I turned back to her to find her smiling. "That was well done. Perhaps you are beginning to get the idea."

She reached under my skirt and slid her hand up onto the bare patch above my stocking. I backed away out of her reach.

"Come here and stand still." She instructed. I moved back towards her, reluctantly. Uncertain as to what she would do.

"Put your feet further apart."

I moved my legs apart until my feet were about a shoulder width apart.

"Further."

I moved them a little further, but it was difficult as I was effectively standing on tiptoe in the tall heels. Her hand moved under the skirt again and I felt it slide up the bare skin on the inside of my thigh. Her fingers brushed around to the front and pulled the suspender, letting it snap against my leg.

"What's this?" she asked, pulling it again.

It's a suspender, Mistress," I replied, puzzled by the obviousness of the question.

"Whose suspender is it?" she let it snap again.

"It's mine, Mistress." I replied, blushing under the make-up. I think I understood now where this was going.

"And what's this it's attached to?" She pulled at the edge of the corset.

"A corset, Mistress."

"Whose corset?"

"Mine, mistress." I felt the blush deeper.

Her hand slid under my crotch and I felt it slide along the head of my prick, trapped between my legs under the sheer nylon.

"And what is this then?" she purred.

"It's my panties, Mistress."

Her fingertip circled the head of my prick, which pulsed in the thin nylon covering it.

"And what's this inside them?"

"It's my prick, Mistress." I could hear the blood pounding in my ears.

"Whose prick, Melissa?"

"Mine, Mistress."

"Not any more, Melissa. Until further notice this is mine to do with as I wish. Understand?"

I swallowed hard as her stroking intensified and my prick swelled in its confinement. She slid across the seat towards me, her other hand circling around my thigh, cupping my cheek and stopping me from moving backwards. She looked up at me.

"Whose prick is this Melissa?"

I looked down at her, still somehow surprised by the swell of my chest and the pale cleavage exposed by the cut-out in the PVC top.

"Its…yours, Mistress." My breathing was getting faster. "Please, Mistress, you'd better stop or there's going to be an accident." In truth I wasn't sure what would happen in this confined state, but things were getting pretty intense.

"An accident, Melissa?"

"Yes, Mistress." Her fingers were rhythmically stroking along the shiny material, causing heat to concentrate in my groin.

"I don't think I want that to happen with my prick, Melissa. It is my prick, isn't it?"

Her other hand slid under the back of my panties and her finger slid into the crack between my cheeks. It stroked along the sensitive opening there causing my hips to jerk forwards. I was biting my lip by this point, my wrists twisting inside the cuffs. Her hand behind me increased the pressure if I moved back, but her other hand continued its relentless teasing.

"Mistress, if you carry on I can't control it." I was becoming desperate.

"Now, Melissa. You don't want to be making a mess in your nice new panties, do you?"

"No Mistress, but…"

"I mean to say, being turned on wearing sexy women's underwear isn't a very masculine thing is it?"

"No Mistress, but…"

"Anyone would think that you were enjoying wearing panties and suspenders. Are you enjoying wearing them?"

"No Mistress. Please stop?"

"I want you to admit that wearing these sheer panties, seamed stocking and suspenders is a huge turn on for you. If you do that, I'll stop."

Her hand slid down the back of my leg as she said this, then followed the line of the seam up again and snapped the suspender against my leg again before sliding down the sheer material between my cheeks.

"Mistress, I can't." I wriggled, but to no avail.

"Well, I think you can, but you won't." She added conversationally, continuing to slide her fingers along the head of my prick.

"Please stop, Mistress." I could feel the pressure building in my groin.

"Doesn't the thought of wearing black stiletto heels and seamed stockings make you feel sexy?" Her hand travelled down the back of my leg stroking the sheer nylon of the stocking.

"Please, I can't…."

"Sexy sheer black stockings and suspenders and sheer black panties turn you on, don't they? You like wearing a tight black PVC corset and stilettos. Isn't that true?"

Her finger slid back up between my cheeks and stroked the sheer material over my anal hole. At the same time, she increased the pressure on my prick, speeding up her strokes. It was unbearable.

"You only have to admit it and I'll stop."

"Mistress. Please don't… I can't….please…uhh"

Heat welled into my groin and my prick pulsed. She pulled her fingers back along my prick and my knees bent, sticky hot wetness pulsed into the sheer nylon between my legs.

"Melissa! You bad girl!" You've made a mess in your panties now."

I struggled to stay upright as my prick continued to pulse hot cum between my legs, my breathing ragged and my hips jerking involuntarily.

"Obviously the thought of being dressed in a corset, panties and stockings was too much for you."

"Sorry, Mistress. It wasn't that, it…"

"Quiet! I can see perfectly well what a little tart you are. A little lingerie and make-up and you're soon squirting into your panties, aren't you?"

"It's not like that, Mistress, you…"

"Do you deny it? Isn't the mess you've made proof enough? It's no good batting your pretty eyelashes at me, Melissa. You came as soon as I mentioned the corset and stilettos. Is that what turns you on?"

"No Mistress, You made me…"

"Oh I dressed you up, I admit. But it's you that squirted your load into your knickers as soon as I mentioned your tight black PVC corset. I never guessed what a little slut you'd turn out as, changing your lipstick every five minutes so that you can admire yourself in the mirror."

I was shocked at this statement. She had made me change it. That wasn't my choice.

"You'd better get upstairs quickly and change your panties before you make even more mess. There are some fresh ones in your drawer. You can check your make-up while you're about it. Turn around."

I moved my legs back together and turned around, feeling the cooling stickiness between my legs start to spread as I did so. She unlocked the cuffs and dropped them back onto the table. I rubbed my wrists as I leaned down to collect my handbag from the floor. As I stood up I could feel the wetness dribbling down the inside of my thighs. I hurried, as best I could, past her, up the stairs and into the bathroom before it went any further.

Having locked the bathroom door, I took some toilet tissue and lifted up the hem of my skirt. I moved my legs apart as far as I could in the heels and used it to wipe between my legs. I tossed the tissue into the toilet and put the cover down, then turned and, lifting the skirt hem up, put my fingers under the waist of the panties so that I could slide them down to where my stockings started.

I was still blushing at the way she had humiliated me using my own body. I was not changing my lipstick every five minutes so I could admire myself, and I didn't like wearing all this… this…

I took some more tissue and wiped the stickiness from the area between my legs, being careful around the exposed head of my prick, which was still very sensitive, then lowered myself onto the toilet cover. The cold of the cover almost made me yelp out loud as I sat down, but I settled for an indrawn breath. I needed to sit so I could get the panties off without making a mess of my stockings.

Holding the hem of my skirt up around my waist and perching on the edge of the toilet, I edged the soiled panties down until I could slip them over my shoes and off. I dropped them in the sink next to me. Then I stood up again and used a warm wet flannel to gently clean between my legs. I couldn't see very well, what with the mounds on my chest and the skirt, but I think I cleaned all of it off. I used the edge of a towel to dry myself.

I smoothed my skirt down again and picked the panties up. They were a sticky mess underneath and smelled strongly of musk. I ran cold water and removed the worst of it and then filled the sink with cool water to soak them for a moment.

I picked up my handbag and removed the make-up bag. Taking out the Bordeaux Gloss lipstick, I uncapped it and turned to look into the shaving mirror. I had smudged my lipstick when I had bitten my lip and there were pink stains on my teeth. My cheeks were blotchy and I looked a mess.

I sighed and put the lipstick on the side, taking a tissue to remove the fuchsia lipstick from my teeth and lips. Taking the comb from my handbag, I combed through my wig and then pushed it back behind my ears, tinkling the bells in the process. I took the powder pad and used it to smooth out the blotchiness, turning my cheeks in the small mirror to check it was even.

Look at me! Less than a day had passed and she had me repairing my make-up like a girl. I looked back in the mirror. The frame of the red-blonde hair around my face and the tiny bells at my ears suddenly filled me with the urge to tear off the wig and stamp on it, to scrub my face clean with soap and strip off these unwanted restrictive clothes.

Except that I couldn't take them off.

I moved my hair aside and felt for the padlock underneath it. I tugged at it, but only pulled at the collar around my neck. I looked down and realised that while I could stamp on the wig, I would be doing so in stiletto heels, as I couldn't remove them either. The cleavage that rose and fell with my breath as I looked down mocked me with its false promise of hidden delight. I was surely trapped and would have to see it through until she deigned to release me. I had no doubt that she would have her fill of my humiliation before she was through.

I turned back to the mirror and surveyed my work. Any sign of the lip pencil that had outlined my lips was almost gone, though it was much easier to apply the lip colour with that in place as an outline. I wondered if it would be better to go into the bedroom and do that before applying the lipstick. I would also need some fresh panties. Didn't she say they were in the drawer?

I put my make-up back in the bag and closed my handbag. I picked the panties out of the water and squeezed the water out of them, being careful not to snag my nails on the thin material. They would need a proper wash before they could be worn again. I draped them over the side of the bath in the meantime, then pulled the plug on the sink to let the water drain away.

Picking up my bag, I opened the bathroom door and emerged into the hallway. I listened for a moment, but there were no sounds to indicate where she was, so I walked to the bedroom and opened the door. The bed had been cleared apart from a pile of bags and boxes that spilled from the wardrobe. I walked over to the stool in front of the dressing table and sat down, immediately standing again as the coarse material against my exposed prick reminded me that I wasn't wearing any panties.

I looked around, wondering which drawer she had meant. I walked over to the chest intending to open her underwear drawer, wondering how to tell the difference between her panties and the ones bought for me, but on impulse opened my own drawer. My guess proved correct. The underpants and socks had vanished from my drawer. Instead, there were two pairs of tiny pink panties and several pairs of stockings, all black, still in their wrappers. There was also a tangle of black silky straps, which when I lifted it resolved into a black suspender belt and bra set. What had she done with my underwear?

I replaced the bra and suspenders and lifted out a pair of the panties. They were see-thru and had little red roses embroidered around the front of the waist. The other pair had a red heart in the front panel with an arrow through it and the words "love me" picked out in embroidery. I picked the roses pair.

I sat on the edge of the bed and, leaning forward in the corset, just managed to get them over the toes of my shoes. I struggled a moment, endeavouring not to catch them on the sharp heels, and managed to pull them onto my ankles. It was then a relatively simple task to pull them up and then stand up to fit them over the suspenders and into place. I drew my finger between my legs and found that the material covered my exposed prick quite nicely, but with my bulging chest and the skirt in the way it was difficult to see if they were straight, so I went back to the dressing table and stood in front of it, lifting the hem of my skirt. The panties formed a pink 'V' between the straps on the suspenders. I smoothed the skirt down quickly over the top.

I sat back down at the dressing table, somewhat more comfortable now that things were covered up, and looked for the pencil she had used to outline my lips. There were three that were left out, though one was bright red and was probably the one she had used to do her own make-up. The other two were both darker, one more purple that the other. I uncapped this one and, leaning forward to the mirror, carefully drew it around my bottom lip. It left a bold dark line around the edge that was darker then I remembered. She had probably used the other pencil, but I didn't think it would matter.

The top was more difficult and I needed to concentrate hard to get the curves around my top lip both even and smooth. I had to wipe the first attempt off and start again, but the second try went better and I followed the curve to get a smooth outline. I turned my face in the mirror before pronouncing myself satisfied. I recapped the pencil and replaced it and then picked up my handbag, extracting the little cosmetics bag.

I examined the bases, picking out the Bordeaux Gloss and uncapped it, unscrewing the base to reveal the dark stick. I put the cap down and then leaning forward again, I smoothed it over my lips, following the lines I had made with the pencil. I was getting quite practiced at this and quickly applied an even coat, blotting and recoating as before. It occurred to me, and not for the first time, that lipsticks were quite phallic. The way the purple shaft rose from the tube was very Freudian and the act of wiping it onto your lips was about as unsubtle as could be.

I blushed at my own thoughts and put the lipstick away, taking out the blusher and brush Instead. I opened the blusher and used the brush to apply short strokes across my cheeks, checking frequently that it was even and natural looking and lifting my chin to catch the light.

Turning back to consider my overall appearance, I thought I had done a fairly good job of repairing the damage. I took the comb out and used it to bring my hair forward again, curling it under again at the ends. My lips shone as they caught the light. This was definitely the darkest of the lipsticks she had chosen.

I turned my cheeks, looking for any unevenness or smudges, but it looked fine. I allowed myself a glossy smile. I began to think I could beat her at her own game if I played this right. I picked up my handbag, stood up and smoothed my skirt down and walked to the door, ears tinkling.

I opened it to find her standing there, waiting.

"Quite finished prettying yourself up, Melissa?"

I lifted my chin. "Yes, thank you Mistress." I was determined not to rise to her teasing.

"Good then you can go and wash your panties out in the kitchen sink. There's some gentle washing powder in the cupboard underneath for washing delicates with." She flashed a teasing smile at me.

"Yes, Mistress."

I went to the bathroom and collected the damp panties and took them downstairs. She had ensconced herself in the bedroom, no doubt rearranging my drawers again.

I put some warm water in the sink and, after reading the washing instructions, washed the panties through and rinsed them in clean water. I squeezed the water out of them by hand and hung them on a radiator to dry. While I was letting the water out I heard her call for me.

I dried my hands and opened my bag, extracting the mirror from the make-up bag so that I could check my make-up before presenting myself. I was determined to try and keep it looking good and give her no excuse to ridicule me further. I put the mirror away, snapped my bag shut and went into the hall, finding her in our sitting room.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Melissa, there something I would like you to see. Sit here please.

She had placed one of our dining chairs in a clear area in the middle of the floor. I moved over and sat on the edge of the chair. What new twist was this?

"Sit right back, now." I moved back so I sat fully on the chair and she walked around behind me.

"Now put your hands behind the chair."

I had a fair idea what was going to happen, so it was no surprise when she clasped the cuffs closed around my wrists.

"Comfy?"

"Not really, Mistress. What now?"

"You remember our earlier conversation?"

"Which one?"

"The one where you said that women lounge around all day and spend half their time touching up their lipstick?"

"I've already apologised for that remark, Mistress."

"But you agreed with me that women's clothes and make-up were fun?"

"Fun when a woman wears them, Mistress." I kept my tone respectful, as I knew this was dangerous ground.

"So you don't find wearing lingerie and make-up fun, yourself?"

"No Mistress."

"Hmmm. Well that's odd." She said, picking up the video remote control.

She pointed it at the TV and it came on, switching to video almost at once. It showed a shot across our bedroom, with the bed, chest of drawers and dressing table in view. I was trying to figure out when it had been shot when she fast-forwarded it for several minutes. As soon as the door moved, she went back to play mode.

A figure walked into view, which I recognised. It was Melissa, or at least it was me as Melissa. She walked over to the dresser, hips and skirt swinging. She appeared to be looking for something and then sat down, standing up almost as soon as she touched the seat, her hand smoothing the skirt down behind her.

"Oh no." I murmured.

"It gets better." She added.

Melissa stepped over to the drawers, considered for a moment and then opened a drawer. She looked inside and lifted out a bundle that she carefully separated into a bra and suspenders. She looked at this for a moment and then replaced it before taking out a pair of pink panties and holding them up. She seemed to be admiring them before closing the drawer and taking them over to the bed. I watched in horror as she hooked them over her stiletto-heeled shoes and pulled them up over her knees before standing to slide them up under her skirt.

Once they were pulled up, she carefully reached under the hem of her skirt, feeling between her legs and then flounced over to the mirror, the camera didn't catch her expression here, but the reflection in the mirror clearly showed her lifting up her skirt and turning this way and that to admire the pink panties.

"This is just not true." I sighed in disbelief.

"This is the best bit." She was clearly delighted.

She sat down at the dresser then, clearly visible now in the reflection. She reached up with one painted fingernail pulled a stray hair behind her ear before turning her face before the mirror. I wasn't even conscious of doing that. She looked around the dresser and picked up various lip pencils and selecting one, began drawing an outline around her lips. She did the bottom lip and then the top, stopping to wipe it off delicately with a tissue when it went wrong. After a second attempt she seemed satisfied and picked up her shiny black handbag from the floor. She picked out a make-up bag and extracted a lipstick, which she uncapped and screwed open delicately because of her long purple fingernails.

She took the lipstick and leant forward to apply it, rolling it on smoothly and expertly, touching up the edges with little delicate strokes. Then she picked a tissue with her free hand and placing the lipstick base down on the dresser, folded it in half before blotting it between her lips. She inspected the kiss-marked tissue before dropping it into the bin. Then she applied a second coat, checking it in the mirror.

Melissa appeared to consider the lipstick, turning it in the light and then depositing it back into the bag. Then she took out blusher and a brush and proceeded to powder her cheeks with blusher, turning her cheeks and lifting her chin in the mirror to view her reflection before replacing the brush and powder in her handbag.

She turned back to the mirror and took a comb, carefully straightening her hair and curling the ends under before dropping the comb into the bag. She turned her face in the mirror and then smiled a glossy smile, obviously pleased with the result.

I said nothing while the screen Melissa collected her handbag before getting up and smoothing down her skirt and walking out of frame.

The screen went blank and she walked back around in front of me.

"I asked you before to admit that it was the corset and the stockings that turned you on, didn't I?"

"Yes Mistress."

"Having watched you, I now realise I was on the wrong track, Melissa. Its not the clothes, is it?"

"I don't know what you mean, Mistress."

"Oh I think you do. I watched you painting your lips. I saw you admiring your pink panties."

"That wasn't what happened!" I exclaimed.

She looked hard at me and I added a belated "Mistress."

"Well that's what it looked like, Melissa. The camera can't lie."

"No Mistress, but it can be misinterpreted."

"And how, Melissa, am I to interpret that little satisfied little smile as you admired your face in the mirror?"

I struggled to explain how I had felt, the sense of victory at having met the challenge she had set me.

"I was just pleased that I had made a good job of I," I explained, lamely.

"I think it was more than that. You weren't telling fibs earlier were you?"

"What do you mean, Mistress?"

"You said that you thought that women's clothes and make-up were fun. I think fun is perhaps the wrong word, but the core of truth was there wasn't it?"

"I meant fun on women, Mistress, fun on you."

"Did you? Did you really?" She walked around and lifted her legs over mine, lowering herself down onto my lap until her face was close to mine.

"Or has the thought of painting your pretty lips with my lipstick been on your mind for some time?" She drew a fingernail down my cheek and under my chin, lifting it so that she could look into my eyes.

"No, Mistress." I put as much certainty into those words as I could muster.

"Are you sure that you haven't been longing to put blush on your cheeks and slip into a pair of panties? Lots of men do, you know. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Yes, Mistress… I mean I am sure."

She looked into my eyes.

"So if I said I would release you from what you are currently wearing, do you expect me to believe that you would never wear your pretty pink panties again?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Yes you would, or no you wouldn't?"

"No I wouldn't." I confirmed.

"No Melissa. I wouldn't expect me to believe that either."

"That's not what I meant Mistress. I meant…"

"You seem to be confused about what you mean, Melissa," she interrupted. "You tell me that you don't want to wear lipstick, yet I see you happily painting your lips and powdering your cheeks. I don't think you know what you mean."

"I only wanted…"

"To be pretty? To look sexy? To do what you have to do and know that you look good? That's all any girl wants Melissa."

I started to answer and she stood up again.

"You're not telling me that you put that lipstick on just because I told you to, are you?"

"Yes… no." I was confused by her double negatives.

"So tell me. Why go to all the trouble of using lip liner and lipstick when a simple application of lipstick would have done?"

"I just thought it would be easier, that it would look better."

"…That it would look better? Sexier? Prettier?"

"You know what I mean, Mistress."

"Yes, Melissa, I think I do. I'll be back in a moment."

She left me secured to the chair and I heard her go upstairs. I was completely thrown by the incriminating video. How could she have managed this? It must have been inside the wardrobe, pointing through the open doors. How could I have missed it?

It suddenly occurred to me that it wasn't as bad as it seemed. The image was good, but there was no link between the girl in the picture and me. It could be anyone in a wig and high heels, putting on make-up. She was just using it as an opportunity to exploit my uncertainty.

I tugged at my wrists in the cuffs and was unsurprised when they did not pop open.

She came back downstairs.

"Well I think we'd better add this to your make-up bag now Melissa." She held up the lip pencils from the dresser.

"Was it the dark one or the lighter one?"

"It was the darker one," I admitted.

"A good choice, Melissa. Sexier," she grinned.

She opened my handbag and taking out the make-up bag, added it to the collection inside. Then she put it down and came and sat on my lap again.

"You may also want to try this," she said, holding up a tube and unscrewing the top.

"What is it Mistress?"

"Stretch your lips, like you did for your lipstick." I didn't seem to have much choice, secured to the chair, so I complied. "Tip your head back for me."

She took an applicator wand from the tube and smoothed it over my lips, top and bottom.

"There, much sexier. Just keep your mouth open a moment so it can settle."

She stepped off my lap again and went back to place the wand into the make-up bag with the rest. She closed my handbag with a click and turned back to me.

"I think you can relax now, Melissa."

My tongue explored my lips, which tasted slightly sweet. I looked around for a mirror to see what she had done.

"Wanting to admire yourself already Melissa? There's a mirror in the hallway. Here let me help you up."

She went behind me and released one of the cuffs. I waited for her to release the other but she walked back around to face me.

"You can go and look now, if you like."

"Only because I want to know what you've done, Mistress."

"If you say so, Melissa."

I walked into the hall, the loose cuff swinging from my left wrist and went to the mirror. The difference was immediately apparent as where my lips were glossy before; they were slick and shiny now. I licked my bottom lip experimentally, but it made no difference. It remained shiny and wet.

She was watching me from the doorway.

"Do you like the lip-gloss, Melissa?"

"Whatever you say, Mistress."

"Oh good," she said coming forward and pulling my hands around behind me again. I didn't resist, as I knew she could overpower me easily. The cuff closed around my free wrist. "Say after me then. I love having sexy lips." She stood behind me looking at my reflection in the mirror.

She sensed my resistance and kept hold of my arms. "Say it."

"I love having sexy lips." I made it as flat as I could.

"Say it properly."

"I love having sexy lips." This time it was full of false sincerity.

"Say; I love walking in my high heels and my short skirt."

"I love walking in my high heels and my short skirt," I repeated.

"Good, hold onto your bag, please Melissa." She placed the handle of my handbag into my hands behind me and I held on to it.

She took hold of my shoulders and guided me towards the stairs, but instead of turning she headed straight for the front door.

"Where are we going, Mistress?" I was getting worried.

She propelled me towards the door and taking hold of my wrist, used her free hand to open it wide to the night outside.

"What are you doing? I can't go out there. Mistress, no!"

She pulled me around and gave me a hard shove in the back. I stumbled forward, almost tripping over the front step as I clattered forward in the stilettos onto the front path, my hands still anchored behind me. I regained my balance and turned to her in the doorway, bells jingling madly.

"You can't be serious!"

"Wait there, I'll be with you in a moment."

In panic I ran for the door, but she closed it and I was left on the step outside the door. I looked around in panic, praying that no one had seen me, but the houses near our house were dark and quiet and there was no one on the road. Yet.

I stepped onto the path and walked around the corner onto the drive where it was darker in the shadow of the house. I was severely conscious of the loud 'clip, clip, clip' made by my heels on the concrete driveway and even the bells at my ears seemed to make an alarmingly loud noise. I pressed my back against the wall at the side of the house, realising that through all of that I had kept hold of my handbag.

My breath was loud in my ears and I was terrified someone would spot me. It was one thing walking around the house like this, but quite another to be outside where anyone could see. I closed my eyes and prayed to be invisible. It stayed quiet for several minutes and I began to hope no one would notice me in the shadows.

I heard a noise! There was the distinct sound of someone coming down the road, towards me. They were female because I could hear the sound of their heels clicking on the pavement. I prayed they would just carry on walking past and not see me.

"Ah there you are Melissa, enjoying the night air?" She stepped around the house. It was her and I'd had enough.

"Are you out of your mind?" I demanded.

She gave me the hard look.

"Are you?" I demanded again, deliberately missing off the 'Mistress'.

"Are you trying to provoke me, Melissa? Because you've already earned extra punishment."

"I cannot be out here in this outfit!" I whispered urgently.

"Oh! So it's okay to prance around the house in that outfit, then." She walked over to the car opening the locks with the radio key and holding the passenger door open. "Get in."

"I will not!"

"Get in or I will go back in the house and call the police. I'm sure if I tell them that I'm a woman on my own and there's a prowler in the garden they'll come quite quickly."

"Okay, okay. I'll get in." I clipped my way over to the car.

She held the door closed to, waiting.

"Mistress." I conceded.

She held the door open and I turned to sit down backwards. She took my handbag from me and then held my shoulders as I lowered myself onto the edge of the seat, ducking my head. I shuffled across the seat with difficulty and lifted my legs into the foot well. She placed my handbag on my lap and closed the door. At least here I was out of sight.

After a few minutes, I heard her open the boot and then close it again. The driver's door opened and she slipped into the drivers seat. It closed with a soft 'thunk'. She reached up and adjusted the mirror and opened her handbag, extracting a lipstick. She glanced at me and then recoated her lips, pursing them together and checking them in the mirror. She replaced the lipstick and took out a black hair-band.

"Close your eyes."

"What for, Mistress."

"Because otherwise this will smudge your eye make-up." She reached over and pulled the band over the top of my head and down over my eyes. I closed my eyes as she had suggested.

"What's this for, Mistress."

"Work it out, Melissa. And by the way, if you ask any more questions I may find it necessary to gag you, understand?"

"Yes, Mistress." I was sure she would.

Something else was put on my lap and I jumped as it touched me.

"It's only my handbag, Melissa."

The car started and I felt her pull out if the drive. We drove along for a while, turning and stopping periodically and then continuing. I didn't say anything and she commented no further. Eventually we stopped and she turned off the engine. She opened the car door and I heard her step out and close the door behind her. She was gone for a few minutes and then my door opened.

"Mistress?"

"It's me Melissa." She lifted the bags from my lap and then lifted off the blindfold, carefully. I blinked, even though the light was dim.

"Out you come." l looked around, trying to get my bearings.

"I don't think I want to get out, Mistress." Where on earth were we?

"If you don't get out, I will drag you out and leave you handcuffed and helpless in the middle of nowhere."

Reluctantly I moved my legs out of the foot well and leaned forward, but I couldn't get out of the seat. She stepped in and reached around behind me, pulling the back of my neck forward. With her help I slid forward and put my heels on the floor, managing to get to my feet.

I looked around fretfully. We were in a car park, surrounded by trees and grass. There were streetlights dotted around and a darkened road that emerged from the trees into the parking area. Two other cars were parked there, but there were no signs of occupation. I breathed a sigh of relief.

She went to the boot and opened it, returning with a black bundle that she placed on the tarmac. My handbag was on the bonnet. She opened her own bag, producing a piece of paper, which she tucked into my bag and then closed them both. She picked my handbag off the bonnet and placed it on the bundle.

"What's all this about, Mistress?" I asked, dreading the worst.

She held up a key.

"Make sure you bring them back with you or I'll send you back for them."

"What, Mistress?"

"The handcuffs, silly." She dropped the key onto the pile and strode across to the car, pushing the passenger door shut.

"You can't leave me here!" I whispered, as loud as I dare, turning to follow her movement.

She walked around the car to the driver's side and I started to follow her.

"Your instructions are in your handbag. Oh, and comb your hair. You don't want to be seen like that. Someone might think you need assistance."

She slipped smartly into the driver's seat and shut the door. I heard the locks close.

"You can't be serious!" I was shouting now, my voice edging into hysteria..

I stepped, as quickly as I could in the heels, around the front of the car, blocking her exit. She waved to me through the windscreen and then reversed rapidly away from me across the car park. I started to follow, but she turned and changed into forward gear, speeding forward out along the exit road and leaving me stranded. I could see the red of her rear lights vanishing into the darkness of the tree-lined road.

Now what was I going to do?

  

  

  

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