Percy Periwinkle's Passage

by sissystevie

Part III – Percy's Perfect Purgatory

   

For the third time in as many months Percy Prigmoore Periwinkle found himself zipping down a highway near Fromage, Wisconsin at a speed well in excess of most police radar scales. Both prior trips to the elegant clubhouse of the Society of Enlightened Ladies had ended badly for the hapless sissy. Each had pushed him deeper into the satin trap of a pansy-nancyboy faggot.

Yes, "faggot" - for now that was precisely what he was, and he knew it, even if he could still not finally accept the despicable word, especially when applied so directly to him. It had always been his greatest fear.

However, this trip was different, and not only because it was at night. He well and truly was on the Road to Perdition. It has been carefully explained to him in every detail. He had even signed the legal papers to make it thus.

Lord only knew he was dressed for the occasion. In fact, Percy Prigmoore Periwinkle was now a 'finished sissy.' There simply was no reclaiming his once-proud maleness, however feeble it was - the visits to the beauty salon, hormones, body shaping and deportment training had been just too intense.

As the evening lights flashed past in a blur, Percy reflected on the last month. After his debauched sex with those two boys at Society of Enlightened Ladies, no one - not even Percy, himself - could really doubt his sexual orientation. Something he had been reminded about daily when Wally Wonder mounted him for the second or third time. Satisfied that Percy's "Basic Training" requirements had been fully met, his tormentor-in-chief, Wilhelmina Willing Waxwell, had borrowed the Society's lead car valet for the entire month to provide Percy with "Advanced Field Training."

Even Percy could fill in the blanks as to what the final "field training" was for.

The most horrible thing for Percy was not that he excelled at sex with Wally, which he naturally did, but that he enjoyed it so much. In fact, by the end of the month Percy actually looked forward to his daily pootie plug (or two...or three), interspersed with injections of jizzie jaw juice. And through it all Percy's prickette squirted every bit as much as Wally's 'wonder.'

Yep, Percy not only was a finished sissy, but he also now craved man-cock.

However, deep down, Percy still remained a very dim-witted demoiselle. He knew what he was, but not who he was. Freedom would only come with total acceptance of both who and what he was.

Well, no one every accused Percy of being an Oxford Don. But he was damned cute and fucked like a true minx - Huge qualifiers, not to mentioned deliverables, in the panty boy world. Pity he utterly failed to appreciate his assets.

Talk about a slow learning sissy! Geesh!

Percy's thoughts were cut short when Wilhelmina said, "Is my pretty-pretty pansy panty boy still upset about his girlie toy boy contract?"

The "contract" had been a difficult sale - until Percy was informed of the alternative. Percy remained silent for the moment and did not respond to the latest taunt. All that Percy could think of was the famous "Prissy-Sissies" drawing of "Sir's Toy Boy." In this case he was the very epitome of life imitating art with extreme prejudice!

"Well," she continued, "it really is where you belong, Percy. And you know it. It's only for five years and you will have a monetary windfall at end of it. Fifty thousand dollars per year compounded will make a tidy trust nest egg. Also, who knows what goodies - other than cum - you can get out of your man when his meat is buried deeply in one or the other able orifice of yours.

"Now, be a good little pantywaist and just accept it. Also, if you look and act your very best, who knows what delightful gentleman will own you. A cock crazed crumpet like you would never fit in with the Society's delicate little sissy flowers or panty boys. Besides, it's your step-mother's wish that you end up as a comely, cum-loving concubine.

"However, if you pout and act out, you will fail to bring in the reserve minimum bid, and then we shall have to move you on to the other, and far different, auction. In some ways I suspect Step-Mummy Dearest would prefer it that way. Certainly your step-sister does!

It's your choice my dear! Lord only knows what those horrible men do to sissies in those filthy seaport bordellos. Alas," she sighed for effect, "no sissy has ever returned to tell us.

"So, hunny-bunny, you will be well advised to get up on the auction block and 'sell it!' In fact, you'd best start 'selling it' from the moment you walk through the door. After all, you certainly are properly packaged for the occasion!"

That he was. His outfit was both elaborate and intricate, but totally failed to cover any of his sexual parts. In fact, it was specifically designed not only to display them, but display them in the most lewd, erotic manner possible.

It also was the single most humiliating thing he had ever worn, which was quite a statement given his 'regular' pansy-drobe.

Contrasting his garish outfit was the simple elegance of Wilhelmina's long black satin evening gown with its strapless top and slender, form fitting lines that embraced her long, lean, supple body. The high slit on her right side revealed one of her pure black silk, fully fashioned stockings attached to tiny black lace suspenders. The black satin perfectly complimented her alabaster, nearly translucent skin, emerald green eyes and jet black long hair.

Her shoes were six-inch patent leather stilettos with long, pointed toes. Opera length long kidskin black gloves and a satin choker with that funny old world crest upon it were her only accessories. In one form or another, she wore the crest on a daily basis, most often in the form of a signet ring. Once Percy had dared ask about it and only received an elliptical reply about some sorority-like sisterhood.

*****

Wilhelmina wheeled her big black twelve-cylinder Benz up to the Society's lavish lakeside clubhouse, kicking up a cascade of gravel in the process. Wally Wonder was back on duty with his team of valet boys in their tight satin shorts and weskits. After bowing and helping the elegant Miss Waxwell and the pansy-perfect Percy out of the car, they retrieved a garment bag from the automobile's trunk.

Inside, Miss Waxwell inspected Percy's hair, makeup and outfit using a large floor-to-ceiling mirror in the clubhouse's entry hall while she waited for the garment bag.

In addition to its humiliating display, the outfit shamelessly displayed just how girlie Percy had become over the past three months. Dress and accessories all were virginal white, reminiscent of a bridal outfit - although one far more suited to the boudoir rather than the altar.

The dress was made from fine bridal satin and trimmed with lace, bows, seed pearls and cascades of fine chiffon. Its long sleeves were tightly fastened down his arms with tiny cloth covered buttons and ended in a triangle over his hand, the far tip of which looped over Percy's middle finger. The dress, itself, was buttoned up the back with similar tiny buttons.

The bodice began at his shoulders and scooped down in a ring of lace and frills under his bosom. His fully exposed titties were now a full 'A' cup and pertly stood out in shelf-type quarter bra cups sewn into the bodice. Percy's puffy, succulent nipples never seemed to soften and begged to be played with. Every movement caused them to jiggle about at their perch at the tips of his tightly grasped love mounds.

The dress' tight waist accented his natural twenty-four inch flat tummy, the product of three months of dieting and very tight corset lacing. At the front and back of each hip was a two-inch satin flower that bunched the fabric. Between the flowers, the satin cascaded in a downward, drapery-like arch. The front arch reached just above his teapot at it furthest drape; the back arch cascaded down to just above his bun cleavage at its furthest reach. On each hip, mounted over the draped fabric was a huge white satin bridal bow. The effect made Percy feel like a walking window treatment – a treatment that perfectly framed his naughty panty boy girlie charms.

From under each satin flower a ruched white satin and lace suspender hung down to attach via a ribbon-covered clasp to lace topped sheer, seamed pure silk stockings. His heels were six inch satin pumps with satin bows both on their toes and again on the sides of their ankle straps. Just for good measure, the backs of the stockings' tops had additional large satin bows. Bowed in front, bowed to the side, and bowed in back. Percy was one bowed-boy!

Adding to this, poor, pitiful Percy was not even allowed the slight modesty of a peenie petal. Instead Wilhelmina Waxwell had personally tied a bow about his pulsing peenie. It was a strand of thick satin ribbon that wrapped tightly, actually very tightly, about the base of Percy's entire teapot - popsie and plums - and tied into a perfectly done large bow at its top.

The face matched the body. Percy's now very blond hair had grown to shoulder length and permed into a 1960's princess bouffant style with a yet another huge white satin, bejeweled bow at its crown before it cascaded into a halo about his head and neck. His base makeup was now permanent, as was his total lack of hair beneath his thin, highly arched eyebrows.

Thanks to collagen injections, his lips were shaped into a perpetual cupid-shaped, pursed pout that screamed for uses other than speaking. The thick shimmering cherry red lip gloss shone out as a beacon of wanton lust. His one-inch rounded nails perfectly matched his lips. Percy's doe-like eyes offer a similar look of perpetual, deer-in-the-headlights surprise. Tonight they were enhanced with pearly white and frosted blue shadow, ultra thick mascara and liberally applied deep black liner.

Toy boy? Well beyond that, Percy was a living, walking fuck and suck toy, plain and simple. Sissy meat on very high heeled hooves.

The boy had not a scintilla of insight as to how many gallons of man cum and sissy cream would be spilled once he was 'discovered.' Nor did he understand the magnitude of the hidden powers that now were supporting and propelling him.

Meanwhile the valet boys had produced the garment bag and produced two garments from it. The first was a long wrap skirt made from matching white bridal satin. For a moment Percy actually believed they were going to impart a modicum of modesty to his otherwise totally over-the-top outfit.

Silly, silly sissy!

The ruffled hemmed wrap skirt was zipped into place to a mating half zipper cleverly hidden beneath the cascading draped fabric of his lower bodice. When affixed, it ballooned outward over attached ruffled satin petticoats about his back side and extended down to trail on the floor behind him. Its front opened with heavily ruffled edges immediately under the front center bodice drape. The opening fully expose his proffered peenie and pink plums, and then widened as it descended to more fully expose his smooth thighs, garter suspenders and sheer stockings. Worse, in back it was cut out to display his plump, round bum mounds with the same ruffled boarders.

"I guess it really does pay to advertise," the soon-to-be mincing milksop silently remarked to himself.

The icing on the sissycake was the second garment taken from the bag. It was a huge, padded white satin bow with a tulle train that was affixed just under his sweet sissy buns. The bow and train created a bustle-like effect. The witless pansy was now presented to perfection.

The final accoutrements were a connected slender set of shiny chrome steel locking shackles about his ankles, wrists and neck and a leash. The effect was that Percy's legs were hobbled and his hand movement was restricted to his waist. The leash, which connected to the back of Percy's collar, and was made from the same chrome plated metal chain as the fetters and ended in a reinforced satin hand loop with still another satin bow at its base.

Percy was packaged with a capital 'P' as Miss Waxwell led him to the grand ballroom entry by his leash.

"Well, Percy my dear," she enthused, "you certainly are ready to enter the purgatory of the auction block. The only question that remains is will it end in a quick ferry ride with Charon down the River Styx, or a flight of fancy to panty boy paradise?"

Percy froze in place. It was the same stylish room as with his two previous visits, but with more decorations. Flowers, ribbons and bows were everywhere. Scantily clad boy waiters and sissy maids were scurrying about serving Champagne and beautifully presented hors d'oeuvres to the formally dressed attendees, who must have numbered well in excess of one-hundred. Dinner tables were set with crisp white linens, polished sterling flat and serving wear, crystal and fine bone china.

At the French door side of the large room three round pink pedestals with broad posts at their rears were set up. The pedestals were clearly the dreaded auction blocks and rose a full four feet above the polished hardwood parquet floor.

One equally scantily dressed sissy maid was standing on the left platform, chained to the post. She appeared to be weeping. At the right pedestal three valet attendants were struggling with an unruly sissy boy who was dressed only in a frilly garter belt, stockings and very high heels. Despite his chrome fetters and large satin gag he apparently had decided to stage a last moment rebellion, much to the delight of the assembled Society members and guests. Numerous deep whip welts about his buttocks and thighs bore witness to prior rebellions. Amazingly, or perhaps not so in that bizarre world, his very substantial penis was quite fully erect and leaking dollops of peenie drool. Once his collar was attached to a taut hanging chain hanging from the post the fight seemed to go out of the boy, however, his prodigious prick stick remained a very moist full mast.

Beside each pedestal was a large placard with pictures and a description of the slave. To the far right was a raised, fine Honduran mahogany auctioneer's booth with desk, gavel and hooded top. Even Percy's three watt bulb was bright enough to realize that he was about to be at stage center of the sissy slave sale.

"Okay, sweetkins, you know what I expect." Miss Waxwell commanded. "Just like in dance class for the past two weeks. I want to see a perfect runway strut with your sexy hips in full gyration and your cute little boobies bouncing. I will walk behind you holding the lead. Do not even think of screwing this up and embarrassing me, or it will be the sorriest day of your young sissy life!

"Now, march! Or more correctly, 'mince!'" she hissed in a tone indicating that she would brook nothing less than perfection.

More by rote than thought, Percy put one foot in front of the other to the meager extend permitted by his hobbling manacles. By the fifth step he was in full sissy stride, albeit with far more body than foot movement. His ribboned and very pointed popsie swung from side to side under its pretty satin bow, his plump bare pussy cheeks jiggled as his hips swayed with each mincing step, and his budding boobies bounced up and down over his built in quarter shelf bra. The unconscious licking of his pouty plump lips completed a package of pure panty boy pulchritude.

Some of the beautifully gowned women tut-tutted at his bizarre dress, saying that no proper lady's sissy would expose himself in such a shameless, hussy-like manner. Most sissies eyed him with unhidden lust, and every man he passed gave him a titanic penis salute under their tented formal trousers.

Wilhelmina stopped their progress to kiss and warmly chat with a distinguished, very handsome older man with thick steel gray hair named Lazarus. Although he was not carefully listening, Percy caught references to recent weddings and something about a countess' pony stables.

It was almost pleasant, had it not been for their destination. But arrive there they eventually did. Two of the valet boys lifted Percy up on the center pedestal while the third, standing on the pedestal's rear, quickly removed Percy's leash and attached his collar to the dangling chain. Percy was totally helpless in his fetters and high chained collar. Never had he felt so vulnerable, exposed and alone.

Percy almost expected an old fashioned French Foreign Legion officer to step forward and offer him a last cigarette.

"Ohhh myyy gawddd," he sighed to the chorus of the sobbing sissy maid on his right and the again defiant "muruphing" gagged sissy boy on his left.

The valet boys disappeared and were replaced by two silk clad sissy boy toys dressed in teal blue Lord Fauntleroy outfits, each holding a long pointer stick. Moments later an elegantly dressed woman came forward and climbed up into the auctioneer's booth. The main lights dimmed and bright spotlights came on to highlight the three hapless auction "lots." A fourth light shone on the lady auctioneer.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to the Society of Enlightened Ladies' summer sale. I am Mrs. Penelope Presscoque, chairwoman of the Society and auctioneer for the evening.

"Tonight we have three dissimilar, but intriguing lots for your consideration. All are over the age of consent and all have signed the requisite contracts. Details are, of course, in your catalogues. Please carefully note each slave's legal summary prepared by the law firm of Kaste, Turre, Wrate & Femme. All bidders must have received approval from the Society prior to participation.

"During dinner we invite you to more closely inspect the properties. The sale will be conducted at the conclusion of our meal. All sales are final, subject, of course, to compliance with the terms of the contract. Slaves not sold will be remanded to the secondary claimer auction, to be held later this evening, if necessary. I know there are several secondary bidders present, but I ask you to refrain from any interference in the primary sales. You may certainly inspect the properties after the primary bidders are finished.

"I think that covers all the necessary items, please have a lovely dinner, and I'll see you again after dessert."

The spotlight dimmed over the auction booth as the members and guest milled about finding their tables, which could not be seen from the slaves' pedestals owing to the bright spotlights glaring in the helpless sissies' eyes.

Percy could, however, very clearly see the placard next to his pedestal. The pictures were enough. One was of the Randy and Roger taking him from either end. Another was of his maiden effort during his first Society visit sucking a row of very eager sissy boy banger-pops. The final picture was of a very obviously delighted Percy being deeply impaled by Wally's 'wonder.'

The words really did not matter after one looked at the pictures. Percy was portrayed as a simple sissy faggot cock slut.

*****

As dinner progressed several people came forward. A large group of matronly women closely inspected the sissy maid. An even larger group a leering men more closely inspected the naked boy toy. However, through the main course nary a soul came forward to inspect Percy.

At the onset of the dessert course the elegant Lazarus came forward and first inspected the sissy maid without comment. He then more carefully inspected Percy and smiled.

"Salvation," thought the foolish sissy.

"Percy, you are lovely," the kindly man said with a warm smile. "In fact, more lovely than all but a very few sissies, but, alas, you are not my assignment this evening."

He then proceeded to the boy toy and conducted a clinical examination of the young Adonis. Upon completing the evaluation, he leaned up and whispered something to the boy that caused the boy to mightily, but futilely struggle against his restraints.

Lazarus smiled and reached up to caress the boy's pulsating prick and added, "Now, now, you may protest your fate, but your little man says something far different. You know you are meant to be a pony boy, and a pony boy you shall be. Now squirt for me, bitch!"

The hapless sissy squirted a full five feet outward as his face turned a deeper crimson than his whip welts.

"Yes, the Countess shall be very pleased with you," said an obviously pleased Lazarus as he departed.

Percy was so flabbergasted by the sissy boy-Lazarus performance that he failed to notice the trio of men who had descended upon him.

Disgusting would not even begin to cover a description. They were corpulent, dirty, smelly and lecherous. Two of them actually were drooling through open gaps in the few remaining teeth. All of them sported estimable erections under the folds of their overhanging, sagging stomachs.

"Oh, my pretty-pretty, in a few hours you shall be ours when he alternative auction is completed," the center man slobbered in some unidentifiable Eastern-Somewhere accent.

Percy almost vomited, but was saved by the light returning the auction booth as the three licentious libertines retreated into the shadows.

"First tonight, ladies and gentlemen," began Mrs. Presscoque, "on the left pedestal, we have the comely sissy maid Fifi."

The two Fauntleroy sissies pointed to the sissy maid with their sticks, one tweaking her ponderous breast with his while the other toyed with her shriveled peenie with his.

"From your sale catalogue you know she was trained by none other than Beatrice Bracewell and has completed halfway training in a boutique known to all of us. Fifi is a lady's maid and requires moderate discipline. Of course, coming from Beatrice's academy you know she has a criminal record and has been altered.

"Proceeds from the sale go the Miss Bracewell's Academy Student Scholarship Fund.

"May we start the bidding at one hundred thousand? All bids tonight will be in U.S. dollars. Do I hear one hundred?

"I recognize one hundred from the lady in the corner. May I hear two hundred?

"Yes, thank you, Madame. Two hundred at the left side.

"Three Hundred?

"Two-fifty from the rear of the room. Three hundred?

"Excellent, the bid now stands at four hundred from the lady in front. Five hundred?

"Four-fifty from the rear of the room again. Five hundred?

"Five hundred - in front again. Do I hear six hundred?

"Waiting for six hundred. The bid stands at five hundred in the front.

"Going once. Going twice. Sold to the lady in front for five hundred thousand U.S. dollars. Congratulations!"

The boy toys brought a set of steps over the pedestal, released Fifi's collar chain and escorted her over to a very pleased elderly lady in the front row.

"Now, on the right pedestal, a truly exceptional sissy boy specimen."

The Fauntleroy boy's pointers now pointed to the slave's huge penis and broad, muscular chest.

"He is truly beautiful, but requires extensive discipline. He is bi-sexual and could be suitable to either a male or female owner. We do not consider him finished in any respect. He possesses uncontrolled sexual desire of all types and is an established masochist. Possible future uses include boy servant, male concubine or pony. We will only accept bids from the most qualified dominants. Sale proceeds will go to an undisclosed victim's fund."

"May we start the bidding at three hundred thousand?"

Lazarus stepped forward and said, "Madam, as you know' I am an attorney both at law and in fact to a certain Countess residing in Switzerland. The Countess has authorized me to make a single bid, and no other bid, in the amount of seven hundred fifty thousand dollars U.S. I so offer that bid now. I hold the requisite letter of credit in hand and have pre-qualified the buyer as being competent to handle the property."

An initial hush came over the attendees, followed by a buzz of whispers.

"Do I hear another bid?" inquired Mrs. Presscoque.

Silence.

Talk about preemptive bids.

Few there that evening had met the Countess, but most knew of her, and that was more than enough to keep their own counsel.

"Then we are done at seven-fifty!" snapped Mrs. Presscoque as her gavel slammed down. "Boys, please delivery the slave to Attorney Lazarus for processing.

As he was taken down from the pedestal the boy began another rebellion. Lazarus stepped forward and calmly said, "Boy, you only think you know discipline, cross me and you will suffer as if you are on your way to hell. Cross the Countess and you will be in Hell.

"Now obey!"

And the boy did just that.

Now it was down to center stage and Percy.

"And last tonight," Mrs. Presscoque continued, "we have a most remarkable sissy. Percy is a man's sissy. His desire for real men's penises makes him unsuitable for either polite female or sweet sissy company. Although finished in a classical sense, he still has some issues as to ownership and reconciliation to his sexuality to be resolved.

One Fauntleroy boy's pointer began toying with Percy's titties and the other boy's pointer lifted Percy's little bulging pink silk purse and teapot.

"Percy, as most of you know, has been trained by none other than Miss Wilhelmina Waxwell under a consignment arrangement with his stepmother-owner.

"Hence, qualified men only may bid. The owner's reserve bid and terms were changed this evening, as you all were notified during dinner. The minimum bid is now set at one million U.S. dollars and the proceeds, if attained, will now go to charity. Although the Society deplores late changes to reserves, it is entirely within his owner's rights.

"Do we have an opening bid at one million dollars?

"Do I hear one million?

"One million?"

No bids! The crowd was silent. None, nada, zip, zero! Was Percy destined to some slimy backwater whore house?

Say it ain't so!

His wicked step-mother and sneering step-sister were gloating in all their glory. The last minute raise in the reserve, or minimum, bid together with the lies they had told the assembled people about Percy's misdeeds had worked. So what, they reasoned, if they had to give up the sale proceeds to charity in order to change the reserve. No one would pay such a ridiculous sum for the little pouf fairy, and off to the later sex slave auction the little fairy would go - where they stood to make far more money from their deal with the slave traders.

Percy's concern turned to panic when he saw the look of concern on Wilhelmina Waxwell's face. In truth, she smelled a rat and knew from whence the odor came and was thanking the Goddesses she had made that phone call.

At the podium, Mrs. Presscoque said. "No bid. Going once."

Sheer terror replaced mere panic in Percy's very troubled mini-mind.

"Going Twice!"

"Oooh nooo!" gasped poor pitiful Percy.

The three eastern-someplace slobs were slithering in their slimy serpentine sweat, oozing pestilent juices from every podgy pore. Drool rolled down their corpulent cheeks.

Jabba the Hutt was a dreamboat next the this tuberous trio.

Then, from the back of the room in a perfectly measured, Alpha Male baritone, came, "One million dollars!"

Now, the crowd gasped as they sought the source of the surprise bid. Mrs. Presscoque was nonplussed and at a loss for words. "One million?" she snapped. "Impossible! From whom, may I ask?"

Maybe the most handsome gentleman in the Galaxy stepped forward with an easy, confident manly stride - the perfect blend of cowboy, Wall Street maven and old European charm. "Madam, I believe I just bid one million dollars for this divine creature. Please acknowledge it."

It was not a request.

"O-o-one m-m-million," was all the flummoxed auctioneer was able to utter.

"Yes, Ma'am, that would be correct." the savvy stranger said. "I believe that is the - very - newly established reserve bid.

"And the name's Nickerson.

"Nick Nickerson. Owner and publisher of 'Panty Boy Magazine.'"

Many in the crowd chorused his name along with references to "Panty Boy Magazine." The sissies, all sticky fingered, drippy pricky devotees of the world famous girlie boy magazine began a mass swoon. Many of the ladies began to rethink their sexual preferences. All available clitties were commencing a mass gush that would rival last year's Super Bowl halftime flush.

Well, that is except for two. Step-Mummy Dearest and Daughter Dreadful were seething in rage. "Who is that arrogant asshole?" snapped the mother.

However, she was not the only one seething with anger. Miss Wilhelmina Willing Waxwell, mistress of a certain secret sisterhood known simply as "The Order" was royally pissed.

Tugging on Superman's cape was a Class Z Misdemeanor next to really, really offending a Mistress of The Order.

"First things, first," she thought. Turning to Mrs. Presscoque - who, unlike certain other people present, knew precisely who Wilhelmina Willing Waxwell was - Wilhelmina hissed, "Penelope, my dear, I believe you owe Mr. Nickerson a response. Kindly acknowledge his bid and close the auction.

"Unless," she said in an even lower and more menacing voice, "anyone wishes to add any more late changes to the proceeding."

The crowd fell silent, and slowly distanced themselves from the wicked step-duo.

Even Step-Mummy Dearest got the message and started to look for a quick exit stage left.

Wilhelmina, in complete control of the entire room turned and calmly said, "Penelope, do it now!"

The now panicked Penelope slammed the gavel down, breaking it in the process, and croaked out, "Sold to Mr. Nick Nickerson for o-o-one million dollars."

"Thank you, Penelope. Well done. However, please call Fanny Frillimost next week to set up a visit so we may 'discuss' just what transpired here this evening," said Wilhelmina as she motioned to Wally Wonderful to join her for a little conference.

To Nick Nickerson the thought of what would happen to the two step-bitches was almost as sweet as his panty boy prize. No one, but nooo ooone, with two, however modest, modicums of intelligence crossed a Mistress of The Order. And this was a major-major, double-dastardly, dirty-down, hoss-stealin', claim-jumpin' cross.

The million bucks was a mere drop in a bucket to him. Besides, Percy would make that amount and more in his first six months with "Panty Boy Magazine" - and would have the ball(s) of his life doing it. Also, he knew his auction money would go to a good cause - the Progressive Pantywaist Outreach Program.

As he strode towards his prize, Percy began his own swoon. The man was a well beyond a hunk and a half! The combination of a Savile Row bespoke dinner jacket and pure ostrich cowboy boots was just too sexy. By the time Nick Nickerson reached him, Percy was certainly in full lust, if not pure panty boy love, and he had the pearly drop-topped popsie to prove it.

Even Nick Nickerson, the world's foremost panty boy admirer, was impressed. The only thing better than a world class panty boy, was a world class panty boy with a hard, weeping peenie saying 'I love you.'

"Undo those fetters immediately," he commanded the two boy-toy attendants. "And find this beautiful sissy a comfortable chair at once."

Once Percy was freed, he swept the comely cumquat off the auction block and into his strong manly arms, pressing him to his hard, broad chest and even harder man tool.

Percy had found a very hard, wonderful home. After all, a hard man is an excellent thing to find!

*****

As the Step-Horribles beat a silent retreat across the surprisingly darkened parking lot, four large figures stepped out of the shadows and quickly wrapped their bodies, arms forced downward, in many belted cloaks. While one man held each woman tightly, the other first stuffed a large satin gag in each screaming mouth, secured its straps about her head, and then proceeded to tighten the roller-buckle belts from their necks down to their ankles.

As their lower bindings were secured, the first men fastened the cloak's hoods over their heads, covering everything but their noses and mouths. Once properly trussed, the two women were unceremoniously dumped into the trunk of a black Mercedes Benz sedan. Its lid was shut and the automobile was moved to a parking space next to a waiting stretch limousine by the clubhouse's front door.

*****

Wilhelmina joined Percy and Nick in a quiet corner of the ballroom where they were now seated. A sissy had volunteered to repair Percy's makeup whilst another fussed with his hair. Percy looked radiant. Nick looked horny. Both looked very, very happy.

"Well, that was a near thing," exclaimed Wilhelmina. "Nicky, you do know how to make an entrance. I think you have been around your panty boy drama queens too long," she laughed as they exchanged a friendly kiss.

She continued, "Seems my instincts were right about those two, but it all ended for the best. Sorry if it was a little more expensive than we thought."

"Wilhelmina, my dear, truth be told, I would have paid triple that for this meaty morsel of panty perfection. I can't wait to get him, or her, back to the Panty Boy Mansion. I've blocked out the entire next week so we can get properly acquainted."

Percy looked up at her new man with eyes the size of fried eggs - sunny side up, and slowly licked his cupid-like lips.

"That's it, Willy," Nick said looking into Percy's lust ridden eyes. "We're 'outta' here and on to far, far better things!"

Wilhelmina spotted Wally across the room giving her a thumbs up sign and added, "Well, it would seem that my last items are all wrapped up and put away, so I think I shall join you. I have my own little mission to tend to."

As they walked to the door, Wilhelmina put her arm around Percy. When they reached the doorway, she turned and put her arms around her former charge.

"Percy, I hope there are no terribly bad feelings about your time with me. In the long run I did what was best for you. I hope now 'Percy' has found the real 'Percy.' Forget about all the nasty name tags and just enjoy you for you.

"Besides, I dare say you will find life in Nicky's mansion far better than anything your sexiest dreams. Just as she tenderly kissed him and turned towards to her automobile, a terrible thumping came from the trunk of her Benz.

"Willy, what on earth is that?" asked Nick Nickerson.

"Oh, nothing of any consequence," she lightheartedly replied as see looked directly into Percy's eyes. "Just a couple of little step-problems needing my special attention. Have fun!

"I know I will!"

Percy never looked back.

FINIS

  

References to Fromage, Wisconsin, Mr. Nickerson and "Panty Boy Magazine" are with the kind permission of Gingerfred Man. (Well, the dear boy 'did' ask for a little favor - or two - in return, but that's another story!)

Your thoughts and feed-back are important. I would love to hear from you. You may reach me at prissysissystevie@yahoo.com if you so desire.

  

  

  

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