Leigh Saunders sat in front of the vanity pursing her lips. She had just applied the last coating of lipstick and was ready for what lay ahead.

“What colour is that lipstick?” the toneless, inhuman, almost robotic voice demanded.

The announcement, obviously fed through a voice modulator, came from speakers set into the corners of the ceiling, right beside the cameras and microphones that monitored everything that Leigh did, every second of the day.

“It’s slut red,” Leigh responded to the empty room not glancing up at the cameras.

The lipstick was actually Maybelline New York Superstay in bold red but Leigh knew that wasn’t the answer the voice was looking for.

“And why is it slut red?” the voice asked and Leigh also knew the answer to this question.

“Because I am a slut,” Leigh breathed.

“Very good, now assume the position,” Leigh knew that this would be the next order that she would be given but it still sent shivers down her spine, although this time for slightly different reasons.

Leigh arose from the padded seat in front of the vanity mirror, primly smoothing her red leather skirt. She strode the few paces on her red, patent leather four-inch pumps to the two-seater couch. The pumps are Christian Louboutin So Kate valued at around fifteen hundred dollars. The other heels in her wardrobe are Jimmy Choo and Manolo Blahnik. Nothing in her wardrobe is cheap. Leigh Saunders is a rich woman but that doesn’t count for much when you are a prisoner.

She snatches a satin throw pillow off the couch, walks to the centre of the room, faces the door, throws the pillow on the floor and kneels on it. Her legs are clad in Wolford ten denier tan stockings and although they are holdups they have the same backseam, and lacy welt as conventional garter hosiery. She is wearing a pristine white, almost transparent blouse and she is enfolded a miasma of Dior Poison perfume. Her makeup is perfect, her blonde bangs perfectly straight, her silver jewellery is real, not costume. She is the epitome of a stylishly, if somewhat passé, ‘woman of a certain age’ exuding sensuality and sexuality whilst retaining a modicum of respectability.

All that changes when Mister Bigelow opens the door and enters the room.

For the first time she feels a stirring in her loins. She has been conditioned like Pavlov’s dog.

Mister Bigelow strides to the centre of the room and stops in front of the attractive woman kneeling before him.

“You know what to do,” the disembodied voice resonates from the speakers; Mister Bigelow never speaks.

Leigh unzips Mister Bigelow’s trousers and extracts his semi-bloated organ. It is long and thick with a bulbous head and thick blue veins running along the translucent flesh of the shaft. She is very familiar with this appendage as it is the only male organ she has ever touched beside her own. She is now eminently accomplished in making this penis spring to attention and knows exactly what is required to bring it to extremis.

The first time she had been ordered to perform this task she was resolute that she would not, under any circumstances, do so and had been vocal about it. Mister Bigelow had said nothing. The ceiling-mounted speaker had spoken on his behalf. This was the first day she had woken up in what she referred to as ‘her cell’ and had been ordered to dress in her provocative intimates, nylons, heels, wig and makeup. She had complied with that order simply because there was no other clothing to wear but she was damned if she was going to perform fellatio on the hulking, muscled, silent man who had entered the room.

Instead she had bombarded him with questions but Mister Bigelow had remained stoic and said nothing, instead the disembodied voice from the speaker had spoken on his behalf.

“Mister Bigelow is here to educate you. A threat has no teeth unless those that need to be educated understand the consequences of failing to learn their lessons. Proceed please Mister Bigelow,” the voice had commanded.

When Mister Bigelow had produced the stun gun Leigh had recognised it for what it was and began to beg and plead but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

The moment the taser pressed against her flesh and the electrical current began flowing through her the pain was immediate and shocking. The intensity of the pain and involuntary muscle contractions was unlike anything else she had ever experienced and it instantly overwhelmed her senses. In addition to the darting pain, the electrical current caused all the muscles in her body to contract instantly, causing her to fall to the floor. After the initial shock, Leigh experienced powerful muscle spasms that arched her back, twisted her arms, and caused her legs to kick out without control.

The lack of bodily control combined with the intense pain was terrifying even though the electrical pulses from the device were designed to incapacitate without doing permanent damage. Once the electrical shock stopped she was left feeling drained and disoriented. She lay on the floor trembling, twitching, and aching as her muscles spasmed involuntarily and it took several minutes for her body to regain neurological control.

Leigh was left feeling disoriented and overcome with feelings of residual fear, anxiety, elevated heart rate and adrenaline, even after the five minutes or so that it took for the aftereffects of being tased to wear off. When she had regained her senses and awareness of her surroundings the speaker boomed back into life.

“Mister Bigelow is going to do that to you every time you do not do as you are told. You will not be given a second chance to comply. You have been appropriately educated and understand the consequences of failing to cooperate. I take it that you need no further education today?” the voice sounded condescending but Leigh got to her hands and knees and nodded.

“Please acknowledge verbally Miz Saunders,” the voice had commanded.

Leigh had replied verbally and that was the day that she sucked her first cock.

As it turned out it wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. She had gotten to her knees and followed the instructions issued to her through the speaker. She had unzipped Mister Bigelow’s fly, extracted his bloated organ, which was fully erect. Leigh would learn that inflicting pain fuelled Mister Bigelow’s libido. She had opened her mouth and sucked on the engorged phallus until it had ejaculated. She had tried to spit out the musky essences as they filled her mouth but Mister Bigelow had held her face to his groin until he had finished ejaculating and had then pushed her away after wiping his cock on her face.

“You will get better with practice,” this time Leigh sensed a tinge of sarcasm in the disembodied voice.

But she had gotten better. Although she had no real sense of time she guessed that she was forced to fellate Mister Bigelow three times a day for the first few days of her captivity and she soon became an accomplished fellatrix. What worried her the most was not the initial feelings of disgust and self-loathing that she felt after she had sucked Mister Bigelow’s penis, it was the fact that she was starting to look forward to doing so. There was little else for her to do in her well-appointed oubliette.

There was a selection of healthy snacks and diet soda and she was fed three wholesome meals a day. There was no way she was going to put on weight and in fact she had lost a little. There was an exercise bike set up in front of the big-screen television and she was required to cycle for an hour every day. She had been provided with spandex yoga pants, a matching sports top and good quality training shoes to do so. The exercise clothes was one of the few ensembles that didn’t come from her own wardrobe.

Whoever had abducted her had cleared out her closet and brought all of her feminine requisites to this cell. There was not a single item of her male wardrobe present and she was required to present enfemme every second that she was awake and even slept in babydoll pyjamas and full makeup. But this was no forced feminisation fantasy. This was abduction, kidnapping, incarceration and probably sexual assault, although that final part was now open to debate.

Leigh fondled Mister Bigelow’s distended organ. She was now familiar with the pink corona of his glans and the pearly penile papules that circled the flange. She traced the veins in the shaft with her fingernail and cupped his scrotum and gently caressed it, teasing him.

“See the changes in her? She’s starting to like it,” William Sauber commented pointing at the screen.

“We finally have something we can use,” Jack Dollarhyde grunted.

“It’s only been a few days,” William replied.

“We are on a timeline here Bill,” Jack was dismissive.

The two men watched Leigh fondle Mister Bigelow’s erect penis, encircling her fingers around the girth of it. She slowly began to masturbate him and Leigh felt her own penis begin to become erect. It was tucked between her legs wrapped in her empty scrotum held in place by tight spandex panties. Tucking was one of the first arts she had mastered when she began to seriously crossdress.

Small beads of pre-ejaculate began to form on the eye of Mister Bigelow’s penis and Leigh gathered them with her fingertips and massaged the unguent into his cock which was now steely hard. Mister Bigelow’s breathing was becoming laboured and Leigh smiled.

“See that! She definitely likes it,” Jack finally agreed with William.

“We can use this footage,” he said excitedly.

“It won’t be enough. I need a couple more days,” William concentrated on the screen.

Leigh’s long, elegant fingers, tipped by manicured red fingernails, danced along Mister Bigelow’s phallus and then she leaned forward and lapped at his fraenulum with her tongue and was delighted when she heard Mister Bigelow hiss.

She finally felt empowered. Having been helplessly imprisoned for so long, she was the one currently in control… or so she thought. Also, despite her resolve not to, she was becoming sexually stimulated. She had never equated crossdressing with sex, although she knew that many or maybe even most of her ilk did.

Leigh had begun crossdressing because she desired the look, feel, and sensuality of feminine garments and everything else associated with them. It helped her relieve stress, uneasiness, and depression and it was almost like a form of meditation; becoming completely absorbed in applying makeup or styling her hair or deciding which outfit she would wear. When she presented as Leigh she no longer had to worry about responsibility and could relax. Retreating into her feminine alter-ego relieved the anxiety that was brought on my her highly demanding job and complicated relationships.

But what she was doing now had nothing to do with that. Well that wasn’t quite right. She still luxuriated in the comfort of presenting herself as feminine but this was also raw libido… it was sexual.

Her cock was nearly fully erect when she finally took Mister Bigelow’s bloated organ in her mouth and began to tease the glans with her tongue while her lips slid up and down the shaft. Her testes had distended from her inguinal canals and filled her scrotum and she had no choice but to put her hand under her skirt and free her penis from between her legs so that it tented her panties. She resisted the urge to stroke it and instead concentrated on sucking Mister Bigelow’s cock. It was now leaking a continual stream of precum which she savoured before she swallowed it. A few days beforehand she would have been tempted to spit it out except for the consequences of doing so.

Now she needed no threats, implied or otherwise, she sucked on Mister Bigelow’s cock, sliding her lips up and down the shaft whilst flittering her tongue on his glans and fraenulum, delighting in the feel of his flesh pulsing in her mouth. Mister Bigelow placed his hands on her head and began to face fuck her.

No need for that; let her do it please Mister Bigelow, the voice came through the speaker but Leigh hardly heard it and Mister Bigelow let go of Leigh’s head.

She sucked on Mister Bigelow’s cock with relish, feeling it expand to full tumescence and begin to judder as his orgasm approached. Leigh quickened her pace and gently squeezed his scrotum and was rewarded with a mouthful of viscous, creamy milt which she swallowed with glee. Her body trembled a little, noticed only by William Sauber who was staring at the gorgeous woman fellating the hulking man towering over her, his own cock becoming a little engorged.

Leigh voided her essences into her panties without even touching her genitals such was the overpowering stimulation, joy and gratification of inducing Mister Bigelow’s orgasm. Almost immediately she felt remorse but there was nothing she could do but continue to suck Mister Bigelow’s cock until she drained it and enjoy the sensations of her own orgasm as it coursed through her loins and rippled through her body.

Mister Bigelow removed his cock from Leigh’s mouth, and as he always did, he we wiped it all over her face, smearing her makeup. Normally this would disgust her but today she felt her cock judder as the last of her issue creamed her tucking panties.

As she had been trained to do, she put Mister Bigelow’s cock back inside his underpants and zipped his fly closed and remained kneeling on the pillow with her head bowed, feeling degraded. But that wasn’t all she felt was it? She felt gratified and sexually sated.

Angelo DeMarko

“What am I looking at here?” Angelo DeMarko sat behind a mahogany desk looking up at twenty pictures pinned to the wall opposite.

“This is the jury pool for your forthcoming trial,” William Sauber explained.

“Our contact at the courthouse provided it to us at great expense but as you are aware Angelo, we are sparing no expense to make sure we win this case. Even the Prosecutor hasn’t been given this information yet,” William pointed to the pictures on the wall.

“No expense! Those fucking sharks at Dewy, McGivern and Stern are charging me for every fucking paperclip and staple but they say they I have a solid defence,” Angelo reached for the café latte sitting on the table in front of him.

Angelo had been indicted on a number of predicates under the RICO act, which in his case including gambling, human trafficking, prostitution, arson, drug importation, bribery, mail and wire fraud and Angelo was looking at a life sentence if convicted.

“We can’t just rely on the lawyers Angelo. We need to make sure the jury finds you not guilty or is at least hung. One of these people is going to be our ace in the hole,” William sipped his own coffee and tapped a keyboard in front of him.

“So we bribe one? Threaten one? Is that what you're saying?” Angelo was suddenly very interested.

“That only works in the movies. Bribes can be traced even if we go through a third party and anyway the juror won’t be able to explain why he or she is suddenly loaded. We always tell the people we bribe not to start spending big but they always do; it’s human nature,” William shrugged his shoulders.

“Threats are even more dangerous. The victim is likely to go straight to the police and then they will arrest you for jury tampering on top of everything else. A threat is only worthwhile if you are serious about carrying it out and killing or maiming a juror or a member of their family is just plain stupid,” William added.

“What then?” Angelo was getting tired of all the talk and wanted his number-two guy to get to the point.

“Check out juror number seven. Lee Saunders is a hedge fund manager for Braithwaite Capital. He’s responsible for managing most of their big clients; I’m talking billionaires. He’s the only broker they’ll deal with and if he left Braithwaite Capital and took his clients with him the company would likely go under,” a series of slides appeared on the huge screen on the wall next to the jurors mugshots.

The mugshots had been taken discreetly by a surveillance team overseen by Jack Dollarhyde.

“My people have checked out all twenty of the potential jurors and Lee Saunders is the most vulnerable. He’s forty years old and divorced. He has two kids attending Princeton and an ex-wife who has expensive tastes and blows through alimony like a hooker through a bag of coke. He pays for their houses, one on Long Island and another in The Hamptons and he has his own swank apartment in the city. He pays a ton in alimony, the mortgages, the kids tuition and college fees, country club membership, leases their cars and he drives a Lamborghini, wears the right clothes, goes to all the right parties… all that shit that incredibly rich divorced assholes do,” William put Lee Saunders’ mugshot on the screen.

“Rich, handsome and privileged. His firm tried to call in a whole bunch of favours down at city hall to get him excused from jury duty but the judge said no. She wants smart people on the jury and has no time for corporate assholes who think they can shirk their civic responsibilities,” William chucked.

“So… blackmail? What we got on him? Ponzi scheme, insider trading, fraud, embezzlement? Something juicy?” Angelo DeMarko finally sounded excited.

“Something even better,” William tapped a key and the screen split.

On one side was a picture of Lee Saunders dressed in a tuxedo walking along a red carpet entering some swank social event. On the other side was a picture of a tall attractive blonde woman dressed in an evening gown and high heels. The dress was split from hip-to-hem showing off her long toned legs clad in shimmering hose. The background was blurred but it looked like the picture had been taken at a party of some kind.

“Who’s the blonde? She’s stunning. He fuckin’ the bosses wife? His friend’s wife, some politician’s wife? This better be good because if he’s divorced I don’t see the leverage,” Angelo sounded deflated.

“She nobody’s wife. She’s Leigh Saunders and she’s also Lee Saunders. She’s him,” William grinned.

Leigh Saunders

Like most compulsive crossdressers, Lee had begun wearing women’s clothing at a young age. First just his sister’s nylons and lingerie and then he had tried on a few of her skirts, blouses and dresses. Coming from a rich family he had a very generous allowance and had soon purchased his own wardrobe of lingerie, shoes, wigs, makeup, dresses, skirts and blouses. By the time he entered his late teens he could present very convincingly as a girl. He’d practiced hard at presenting femme, mimicking the gait, mannerisms and voice modulation of the women around him and he became adept at makeup and wig styling.

He kept his wardrobe locked away safely and only presented as Leigh, the name he had chosen for his femme alter ego, when he had the house to himself or when he slipped away to the family house in The Hamptons, alone for the weekend, ostensibly to study. Lee felt guilty about his secret obsession and had purged twice but he couldn’t stop. He desperately wanted to go out on the town as Leigh and express his sequestered femininity to the world but was terrified of being caught.

There was nothing sexual about his desire to crossdress. He felt that his female side was beautiful and wanted to express it. It brought him pleasure and made him feel relaxed. He took satisfaction from the look, feel and smell of women’s clothes. His transition into Leigh was fully-immersive and he ‘became’ the woman he secretly desired to be, leaving behind his male persona.

This all came to a grinding halt when his parents introduced Lee to Susan Huxtable, with whom, much to much to his parents delight, he fell in love and Lee put away his wardrobe and suppressed his desire to present enfemme. He soon had the right job with the right wife and a brace of perfect children and Leigh disappeared completely from Lee’s psyche.

That was until he got divorced and found himself living alone. Leigh emerged from hibernation and began to become a driving force in his life. He became Leigh as often as he could and was soon a member of several online support groups for crossdressers. He shied away from the meetup sites where ‘tranny-chasers’ or ‘admirers’ as they called themselves (a term they used to append some respectability to their penchant for wanting to have sex with crossdressers as far as Leigh was concerned) and only subscribed to sites that solely supported heterosexual crossdressers.

Lee knew that he was dancing with the devil. If his predilection for crossdressing became public knowledge he would lose the respect of his friends, his family and more importantly his client base and his position at Braithwaite Capital. He would effectively be ruined. His financial situation was a house of cards. Sure, he made millions but he was mortgaged to the hilt and the sum of his outgoing expenses was very close to the sum of his income stream.

Lee was very careful to protect himself and used a dedicated laptop and separate mobile phone for all of Leigh’s online activity and communication. He used a VPN, a proxy server, an encrypted browser and email program and had a powerful anti-virus program installed on those devices.

Several of the sites where he was a member held gatherings where crossdressers met socially. Anonymity was guaranteed and Lee was sorely tempted to attend because Leigh was such a powerful force in his life and she desperately craved to meet and interact with others who felt the same way that she did.

Just over a year ago Lee summoned up the courage and told his boss he was taking a week’s holiday to go to Las Vegas. He suffered through the jibes about Las Vegas being the perfect place for a rich bachelor to sew his oats, drink, gamble and fornicate with high-class hookers and Lee played along with the guys in the office pretending that is exactly what he intended to do. What he actually did was attend the WildSide event.

It was advertised as: A week-long trans pride celebration that was all about empowerment, community-building, making lifelong friends, visibility, and a whole lot of fun for the Trans and gender-expansive community. Many of his online friends were going and what he particularly liked about it was that everything happened in the same hotel venue. Leigh spent the whole week interacting with other crossdressers and finally got to meet some of her online friends.

Lee checked in under a false name using a credit card linked to a discreet account and transformed into Leigh immediately and Lee never emerged until it was time to checkout and fly home after what had been an exhilarating week. Leigh guessed that some of the attendees hooked up but she showed no interest and was never pressured. She felt safe and secure and it was the happiest week of her life, finally being able to come out of the closet and express her femininity in public.

Leigh began to attend other conventions and congregations that were similarly themed so long as they were located well away from home, the further the better. Leigh was finally happy. She surrendered her psyche to Lee to attend to the mundane things in life and reclaimed it whenever possible. At some stage Lee and Leigh’s psyches blurred and they could swap personalities seamlessly.

And all was well. Leigh’s life was almost like a fairytale until Lee was summoned for jury duty. His application to be excused was denied, despite the pressure exerted by his firm on some high-ranking judicial officials. Lee was pragmatic about it. He had been advised to set aside fourteen days for the trial and deliberations and he met with the CEO of Braithwaite Capital and told him that he was taking a few weeks off before the trial but would work remotely. His real intention was to attend a number of crossdressing conventions before the trial began because the jury would be sequestered and Leigh wasn’t sure she could spend that long without expressing herself.

That was when Leigh’s world fell apart.

William Sauber

William Sauber was Angelo DeMarko’s number two man, sometimes referred to as a ‘Consigliere’, and when he received the list of potential jurors from his contact in the courthouse he went straight to work and spared no expense. He had each of the potential jurors discreetly followed by a small team of experts in surveillance and intelligence gathering. Where possible each of the jurors domiciles was breached and thoroughly searched. Any electronic devices were cloned and tracking devices fitted to their vehicles.

Eleven of the potential jurors were immediately eliminated from William’s list of potential candidates for blackmail. They led vanilla lifestyles and had nothing to hide. The other nine were interesting and had their secrets but it soon became apparent that juror number seven, Lee Saunders, was an ideal candidate for blackmail.

Jack Dollarhyde, the leader of the surveillance team and Angelo’s Caporegime came to William with what he had found.

“The guy’s a rich asshole socialite who is one of the highest paid hedge fund managers in the city. He is the number one investment guy with Braithwaite Capital. Divorced, two kids at an Ivy League college and mortgaged up the yin-yang,” Jack and William sat in front of a computer looking at pictures of Leigh Saunders.

“You gotta admit he pulls it off extremely well. That chick is gorgeous and if I didn’t know who she was I’d hit on her. You know what? Even knowing who she is I’d fuck her. I’ve fucked plenty of chicks up the ass so what’s the difference,” Jack chuckled.

“But there’s no porn? No pictures of her having sex? No email or text messages even implying that she’s promiscuous?” William ignored Jack’s indecorous comments.

Neither of the men consciously realised that they were referring to Leigh using feminine pronouns.

“Doesn’t matter. If we were to show these pictures to his wife and kids, his asshole friends, his associates and his boss at Braithwaite Capital and more importantly his clients, he’d be fucked. He’s vulnerable,” Jack used masculine pronouns when referring to Lee.

“Not vulnerable enough. People are more forgiving and more tolerant than you think. Threatening to drag him out of the closet might scare him but not enough to do what we want him to do,” William was thinking hard about how to apply sustainable pressure on Lee Saunders.

“Well the pictures were all taken at home or at legitimate social gatherings with no hint of sexual activity. There are a few cheesecake shots here and there but nothing provocative. That is unless you think a forty year old man wearing nylons, high heels and makeup and calling himself a woman named Leigh is provocative,” Jack chuckled.

“What if we do get pictures and even video of Leigh in flagrante delicto?” William pondered.

“In fucking what?” Jack hated it when William used big words and complex terminology as much as William hated Jack calling him Bill.

“What if we get imagery of Leigh having sex with men?” William explained.

“How do we do that?” Jack was perplexed but only momentarily.

“I know! We kidnap her and force her to have sex and film it. No one is going to forgive that rich, uptight asshole for dressing up like a woman and sucking cock or bending over and taking it up the Hershey Highway. Not the ex, not the kids, not the asshole friends and the asshole boss and the asshole clients,” Jack said congratulating himself for what was really William’s idea.

“Lee’s on a break from work before the trial and has been attending freak conventions. If we grab him now we should have plenty of time to make it work,” Jack added.

“I know. I’ve read everything you brought me on Lee Saunders. Get a team to take him the day after tomorrow. I’ll get everything set up at the Long Island safehouse. Bring everything Leigh owns: the clothes, the makeup, the wigs, the shoes… all of the things she keeps secreted in that closet hidden away. Don’t bring any of Lee’s masculine clothing or accoutrements,” William said.

“From the moment she wakes up at the safehouse until the moment she leaves, Leigh Saunders is going to be Galatea to my Pygmalion,” William smiled to himself.

More big words and complex terminology, Jack thought.

“I’m on it Bill,” was what he actually replied.

“Let’s get Angelo in here and brief him,” William replied… he hated being called Bill.

The Abduction

Lee Saunders didn’t even feel the fine needle enter his vein as it delivered the powerful drug that anesthetised him, sending him into a deeper sleep than he was already in. Jack Dollarhyde and his crew had already been inside the apartment once before when they cloned his laptop and mobile phone and found the hidden closet with all of Leigh’s accoutrements. The alarm system was sophisticated but no match for their tech guy who defeated it in a few seconds.

Whilst two of the crew manhandled Lee into the passenger seat of his Lamborghini the remainder packed up the entire contents of the secret closet and loaded it into a nondescript van along with his work and personal devices. They left the place spotless so that when Lee’s service came to clean the apartment nothing would look out of place. A typed note left on the marble countertop of the kitchen printed on the expensive stationery that Lee kept in his study advised the maid that he had gone away and wouldn’t be back until the trial date. With his car gone, his apartment locked up and those that mattered aware that Lee was taking a sabbatical before the trial, there was nothing to arouse suspicion regarding his absence.

Lee awoke in a satin-sheeted king-sized bed. Someone had dressed him in a the pink peignoir and matching panties. Leigh wore garments like these to bed when she was attending crossdressing gatherings but she knew that something was wrong immediately. Lee was in a strange bed in a strange room and the aftereffects of the sedative made him feel groggy. Lee knew that he was not at a crossdressing conclave although the room he was in resembled a hotel room.

“Good morning Leigh. Get up, get showered and shaved and put on your makeup. There are some nylons and high heels laid out for you to wear with the peignoir and you will soon be visited by Mister Bigelow who will begin your education. I know that you have many questions and some of them will be answered but for now just be a good a girl and do as you are told,” the disembodied voice came from a speaker mounted in the ceiling.

Lee looked up at the speaker and the camera lens mounted beside it and thought that he was dreaming or having a nightmare. Lee sometimes had nightmares where he was at work or in a restaurant or other public place whilst dressed as Leigh, surrounded by colleagues and family who were laughing at him but whilst this was surreal, it was no dream.

Lee was an intelligent man and realised that whoever had taken him had carefully planned his abduction. He had not been randomly snatched. Lee had been professionally kidnapped. Lee also knew that the act was somehow related to his crossdressing and the first thought that entered his head was BLACKMAIL. Lee had attended a lecture sponsored by his firm, given by a professional kidnap for ransom negotiator and he had offered the following advice to the audience in the event of a kidnapping:

Stay calm as panic can cloud your judgment and lead to poor decision-making. Observe your surroundings and quickly take stock of your environment. Note any details that could help authorities and pay attention to the number of kidnappers, their appearance, and any weapons they may have. Comply with demands, as resisting or trying to escape prematurely can escalate the situation and put you in greater danger. If possible, try to establish a rapport with your captors. Humanising yourself can make it harder for them to harm you. Use their names if you know them, and try to engage in conversation to build a connection.

Lee made his way to the bathroom and peed. He noticed that the bathroom also had a camera, speaker and microphone mounted in one corner of the ceiling and figured that he was being constantly watched and filmed. But now was not the time for modesty. The bathroom was fitted out nicely with quality accessories and towels. There were unopened bathroom requisites and Lee complied with the first of the directions. Lee had naturally fine, blonde hair and was one of those people who was lucky enough to have very little facial and body hair but he used the razor and shaving cream to whisk away the few hairs that had sprouted overnight. He brushed his teeth, used the mouthwash and took a shower.

Lee left the bathroom and stood in front of a very nice vanity. All of Leigh’s cosmetics were laid out along with her styling accessories. The drawers were filled with her lingerie, her complete wardrobe was hanging up in a large armoire. Her three custom ‘Wigs By Vanity’ on their wigstands, her high heels arranged neatly on the shoe rack. She noticed immediately that there was not a single item of Lee’s male clothing. Whoever had taken Lee didn’t want him. They wanted Leigh.

Ok… She would comply as per the advice given by hostage negotiator. Lee dropped the towel that had been wrapped around his waist and sat on the bed. As soon as Lee slipped his feet into the toes of the fleshtone Walford sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose, Leigh’s consciousness slipped into Lee’s psyche. Leigh took over and would not relinquish control until she was released by the kidnappers. To some extent it was the same experience that occurred whenever she went to WildSide or any similar event. Leigh’s feminine ego had firm control from the moment of arrival until the moment of departure.

She slipped into the nylons and hitched up the pink satin panties that had been laid out, then she put the pink peignoir back on, tossing the panties she had worn to bed on the floor. She slipped her feet into the high heels and sat down at the vanity and began putting on her makeup.

“I think the blonde shoulder-length would look nice,” the voice startled Leigh but she would soon get used it.

After spending nearly half an hour perfecting her makeup Leigh carefully removed the high quantity, thick-haired, expertly weft, luxurious, perma-teased platinum blonde wig from the wigstand. It was part of the ‘Ultimate Vanity’ collection and Leigh shook it out, brushed it, adjusted the straps and carefully placed it on her head. Her transformation was complete.

“Stand up for us Leigh and give us a pirouette so we can see how beautiful you look,” the voice sounded almost friendly but condescending.

Leigh did as she was told, facing one of the ceiling-mounted cameras after her twirl. It was not lost on her that voice had said ‘we’, so there was more than one person watching her.

What the speaker announced next chilled her to the bone.

“Mister Bigelow is going to enter the room now and when he does you are to get to your knees and fellate him,” the voice said coldly.

What followed was her first taste of the taser and after that she complied with every order, every time. It didn’t take her long to become fully submissive and compliant.

Leigh fell into a routine: get up and get presentable. Sometimes the ‘talking box’ told her what to wear, sometimes she was left to her own devices. During the mornings she took her spin class whilst watching an inspirational video linked to the stationary bike. She enjoyed the illusion of cycling along a country road. Other than that she had no control over the television other than the volume control and mute functions. In the evening it showed pornography for several hours of every evening, all of it crossdresser themed.

The talking box would advise her when Mister Bigelow was arriving for his first blowjob of the day, usually just after breakfast, then sometime in the afternoon and again in the evening. After awhile the blowjobs just became routine, at first she detested them, then they became mundane but after she became accustomed to them she began to experiment with her technique. She duped herself into thinking this was just to get the task over with as quickly as possible but as she became better, and the silent Mister Bigelow responded to her ministrations, either by grunting, gasping or placing his hands gently on her head, she realised something.

Some of the power that Mister Bigelow had over Leigh transferred to her. She could edge him endlessly, bringing him to the point of orgasm then backing off, feeling the disappointment and anticipation radiate from him. She could make him orgasm quickly by using her tongue and lips on the most sensitive areas of his penis whilst gently caressing his scrotum. When she was fellating Mister Bigelow she was in control and this changed her thinking. She began to look forward to the sessions. Was she not providing the same service that women gave to men as a matter of course? This somehow accentuated her femininity.

Even when Mister Bigelow extracted his penis from her mouth and wiped the final dribbles of his spend into her makeup it no longer disgusted her. It had become part of the ritual.

But by day four something else changed. Leigh started to become sexually excited herself and although she tried her best to disguise it, on the fourth afternoon she actually orgasmed whilst fellating him.

Leigh’s resignation, acceptance and finally her anticipation and gratification was not lost on William Sauber. He also noticed other behaviour in Leigh that signalled her accedence. On the second day she had painstakingly rearranged her cosmetics on the vanity to her liking and then done the same with her wardrobe. She taken down and carefully coiffed her wigs. She carefully considered what to wear, ensuring her heels and accessories complimented her outfit. She had stopped yelling at the cameras, demanding answers. She even rearranged the furniture in the room to suit her tastes. She seemed to have accepted her fate and was waiting patiently for the answers to her questions, which she guessed would be revealed soon enough.

“Ok, we got plenty of video of her sucking Mister Bigelow’s cock. Is that enough to blackmail her?” Jack Dollarhyde asked.

“Definitely not. In all of the other footage except for today you can tell that she is doing so under sufferance. She needs to not only be filmed having sex with men but also actively participating and enjoying it,” William explained.

“Mister Bigelow has served his purpose, I’m taking over from here,” William announced.

“Well like I said before, the clock’s ticking so get on with it. I can’t watch this shit anymore. You’re on your own,” Jack Dollarhyde got out of his seat from in front of the monitor.

“That’s fine, the cameras and mics will capture everything and I can edit it myself,” William was quite relived that he would not be being watched when he was alone with Leigh.

The Dinner Date

William had studied the pictures and video that Leigh had taken of herself at the crossdressing conventions and in the privacy of her home that she had downloaded onto her personal laptop. He was amazed by Leigh’s transformation, elegance and style. She was at least as beautiful if not more so than the women William had dated. She had poise, grace and charm and although she exuded sensuality she was prim in her actions. It would be William’s job to change that; to turn her raw sensuality into sexuality through tangible actions. He was quite looking forward to it. He leaned forward and pressed the talk button on the mic.

“Tonight I will be joining you for dinner. Wear something nice, I quite like the red Valentino satin evening gown but I will leave the choice up to you,” William spoke into the microphone.

“What about Mister Bigelow?” Leigh looked up at the camera.

“He won’t be joining us. I’m taking over your education from now on. I’ll see soon,” the talking box responded.

Leigh tried her hardest to suppress a smile. She was finally going to meet someone who was in charge and hopefully find out what this was all about. She looked up at the camera and nodded. She took another spin class to release the nervous energy coursing through her body and as she rode she made a mental list of questions to ask the owner of the disembodied voice. She reviewed the advice that the kidnap for ransom negotiator had provided during his lecture. She summarised them as follows: stay calm, pay attention to the number of and the appearance of her kidnappers, comply with demands, try to establish a rapport and humanise herself by engaging in conversation and try to build a connection.

It would be easy to fly into a rage and demand to know why she had been taken, why she was forced to give oral sex to the stoic, boorish, behemothic Mister Bigelow. She would temper her anger and try to use her feminine wiles to extract the information she wanted. Leigh had been hit on often enough at the crossdressing conventions she attended to know that men found her desirable and she was well aware of her raw sensuality. It was time to put it to good use.

She climbed off the bike and went to the bathroom and showered, taking her time; plucking any errant hairs that had sprung up on her face and body of which there were few. She put on a robe and laid out her clothes, selecting the red Valentino evening gown as requested. She would wear a pair of full-cut lace trimmed red satin-lycra blend panties over her sheer-to-the-waist shimmery tan Wolford pantyhose to defeat the curse of VPL and help keep her tucked. The red Christian Louboutin So Kate pumps would match perfectly with the dress.

She dithered with idea of a brassiere. She had her silicon ‘chicken fillet’ cup-inserts that would provide some shape if she wore a strapless brassiere but she decided to go ‘au naturel’. The dress was low cut front and back and had a side-split from waist to hem. She would be showing plenty of skin and leg and wearing prosthesis tits would just spoil the aesthetic. The mystery man knew what she was. He had been watching her for four days so why bother?

Leigh sat at the vanity and took her time perfecting her makeup: smoky eyeliner and mascara, deep plum eyeshadow and of course her bold red Maybelline Superstay lipstick, which the man she was about to meet had conditioned her to refer to as ‘slut red’. She rouged her cheeks a little to emphasise her high cheekbones. When she was finished she dressed and sat back down to put on her brunette ‘Cindy Crawford’ wig. The platinum blonde would have been the obvious choice but that had become her ‘blowjob’ wig and she didn’t want the mystery man to see her wearing that hair and recall her servicing Mister Bigelow.

She styled the human-hair ‘Cindy’, carefully brushing and blow drying the thick voluminous tresses and then placed it on her head over the wigcap. The perfectly coiffed hair had plenty of height at the crown and the strands cascaded into flowing voluminous tresses, with soft inward curls at their end. The tresses created rounded waves with honeyed highlights that scattered around her face and brightened Leigh’s complexion. She accessorised with a gold necklace, matching bracelets and drop earrings. She wore a simple gold band on her right ring finger. Leigh doused herself with Dior Poison and stood in front of the full-length mirror and was delighted with the result. She had never looked better.

William didn’t watch Leigh dress. He wanted it to be a surprise and savoured the anticipation of their forthcoming meet while he ruminated on what exactly he would tell her. He knew that she would have many questions. He needed to tell her enough to keep her calm and complicit but not enough to frighten her. It would be a balancing act.

Leigh couldn’t help but smile when the man behind the ‘talking box’ tapped on the door before entering. It’s not as if she could ask ‘who’s there?’ or deny him entry. She was his prisoner after all, but she appreciated the gesture and was still smiling when William Sauber entered the room.

William is immediately taken by Leigh’s presence. She’s tall, elegant and radiates a sophisticated beauty. She commands the room, standing at around five-seven but looks taller in her heels, her long legs accentuating her height. She’s wide in the shoulders and hips but slim waisted and has an ample but pert backside. She’s flat chested but that doesn’t distract from her overall allure. The satin sheath evening gown displays her assets admirably and William is glad that she chose to wear the red Valentino and wonders fleetingly if the choice was an act of contrition or simply her choosing a dress that suited the occasion.

Her face is a thing of beauty. She is fair skinned with sculpted cheekbones, an elegant long straight nose, a wide mouth with full lips and a tapered chin. Her sparkling green eyes are alluring. Her makeup is perfect and the voluminous waves of her hair frame her face perfectly. A waft of her perfume dances across the space separating them and stirs his libido.

William knows who and what Leigh is. He has seen her sans makeup and naked often enough and has witnessed her metamorphosis from handsome man into beautiful woman but seeing her in the flesh is breathtaking. William has been watching Ted Lasso in the little free time he has and he thinks Leigh bears more than a passing resemblance to the British actress Hannah Waddingham.

Whilst William is assessing Leigh she is assessing him. He is tall, mid-forties, with a slim but muscular build, a handsome face and thick, wavy, shoulder-length dark hair streaked with grey. He looks dashing in his slim-fit dark-blue suit and exudes confidence. His lips are full and sensual and his dark eyes glower. He’s the kind of man who always has a hint of five o’clock shadow and Leigh is surprised that one of her first thoughts is to wonder what it might be like to kiss that wide sensuous mouth.

“Did you bring your stun gun?” Leigh asked.

“Let’s not spoil things by getting off on the wrong foot Leigh. I am not armed and I’d say we are equally matched if it came to a tussle but there is nowhere for you to go. In fact I’d probably quite enjoy tussling with you but why don’t we be genteel?” William gives Leigh a brilliant smile and she smiles back at him.

She remembers what she needs to do: be compliant, establish a rapport and build a connection.

There is another rap on the door and Mister Bigelow enters with a room service trolley which he parks in the centre of the room before departing. As usual he is silent.

“Shall we dine? I had the chef prepare something special for us,” William takes the plates off the trolley and arranges them on the small dining table along with the glasses, napery and cutlery.

They both look at the steak knives which would make a lethal weapon and then they both laugh. A truce has been undertaken and William pulls back Leigh’s chair and attends to her while she seats herself. The split in her dress opens when she sits and he can’t help but admiring the expanse of shimmery-clad thigh Leigh displays before she drags her chair forward.

“I’m William Sauber and very pleased to finally meet you,” William places Leigh’s napkin in her lap and pours her a glass of Australian Penfolds Grange Hermitage which Leigh knows retails for around a thousand dollars a bottle.

He seats himself across from her and pours himself a glass and raises it. They chink glasses like civilised people do and take a sip of the delicious wine, then William removes the silver dish covers from the plates to reveal a sumptuous serving of venison in a red wine sauce and sautéed vegetables.

“Let’s talk while we eat. I’m sure you have many questions,” William flicks his napkin and drops it in his lap.

“Where am I?” Leigh asks as she begins to eat, forking some vegetables into her mouth.

“You are at what is sometimes referred to as a safehouse on a small estate not far from the city. The house is owned by my boss Angelo DeMarko but even a forensic accountant would find it impossible to link this property to him,” William cuts into his venison.

“If you look around you will notice this room has been customised to look like an upscale hotel room. It is modelled on a deluxe king room located in the Omni New Haven Hotel where you are attending a nearby transgender and crossdressing convention and mixer event,” William dips his venison into the sauce and continues.

“You are registered under the false name on the credit card linked to the discreet account that you always use when you attend such events. Your Lamborghini is parked in the underground carpark of the hotel and a man with a similar build and facial features as you checked in the day you arrived here. There will be security footage of you arriving and checking in. Of course the man impersonating you will have his face partially obscured by a ballcap but for anyone tracing your footsteps there will be enough evidence, including your fingerprints and DNA in the hotel room, to put you there,” William chewed his venison and savoured the flavour.

“You have gone to great lengths to kidnap me and allay suspicion that I am missing,” Leigh was astounded at what William had had told her but she tried to hide her surprise.

“Yes Mister Dollarhyde is quite proficient at his job. Try the venison Leigh, it is wonderful,” William takes a sip of wine.

Leigh begins to cut into her venison and glances up at William and looks him is the eye as she askes her next question.

“Why have I been kidnapped? I know that it’s not just to provide oral sex for that mute human refrigerator you call Mister Bigelow. You have me living full-time as Leigh and you are recording everything I do. It’s a very elaborate setup for simple extortion,” Leigh takes a bite of the venison and it is just as good as William said it would be.

“I saw the recognition in your eyes when I said Angelo DeMarko. You are juror number seven in the jury pool for his forthcoming trial. You will be selected to sit on the jury and you will ensure that a not guilty verdict is rendered or at least the jury is hung,” William meets Leigh’s stare.

Leigh nearly chokes on her venison. It suddenly dawns on her why she is here and it all makes sense. She swallows the meat and washes it down with a sip of wine.

“Ok. I’m an intelligent person. You have been to my apartment and as you have access to my bank accounts and credit cards and I presume the pictures of and video of me as Leigh and will have strung together enough evidence to out me. I can see your intent. But what if it backfires?” Leigh pauses to take a drink.

“What if I say fuck it, out me to the world. I am a gender dysphoric person who lives secretly as a woman sometimes. You will even have the video of me fellating Mister Bigelow; but when I tell the police that I was forced to do so, a forensic examination of the footage will reveal my disdain for what I was forced to do,” Leigh smiles balefully at William.

“Oh, I’m very aware of that. Except for that last blowjob. There was no coercion there. I could see the hunger and enjoyment on your face. I have witnessed your sexual desire bloom. Besides, we haven’t finished with you. Before I let you go I am going to have footage of you not only actively engaging in sexual congress with a man; I’m going to have footage of you initiating it,” William returns the baleful smile.

“You could possibly survive being outed as a closet crossdresser but your family, friends and business associates will be horrified to see you having sex with a man whilst you are dressed as a woman. You can’t risk that getting out there,” William takes another bite.

Leigh considered her situation. She now knew why she had been kidnapped, knew the names of her kidnappers and established a rapport with William. She needed to bide by what the KFR negotiator had told the audience at his presentation. She needed to remain calm and complicit until she was released and then she could go to the authorities or to a reputable private detective agency who could negotiate on her behalf and try to reason with Angelo DeMarko. Time was on her side. Lee was due to attend court for voir dire in about week, (she had lost track of time) so she needed to go along with her kidnappers and get released with enough time in hand to take the necessary actions.

“Isn’t that more than a little oxymoronic: you are going to force me to enjoy sex and film it?” Leigh asked, a twinkle in her eye.

“You are more than a little complicit already. The footage I have of you fellating Mister Bigelow this afternoon shows that you are willing and in fact I would say revelling in the act. The look on your face is blissful and ecstatic. The way you manipulate Mister Bigelow’s penis and then tease him with your mouth, showing no signs of distress. That little red leather skirt is far too short and you can clearly see your erection and when Mister Bigelow finishes and you get up off your knees you can clearly see your semen staining the front of your panties,” William smiles back at her.

Leigh blushes.

“A Pavlovian response perhaps. I’m being conditioned. You are showing me crossdresser pornography every day and forcing me to fellate Mister Bigelow. There is no other form of sexual release. I can’t even masturbate because you are watching me twenty-four, seven,” Leigh snaps defensively but she knows that she is on shaky ground.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks, but let’s not spoil our dinner by arguing. We will finish our meal and get comfortable and discuss things further,” William extends a hand a across the table and takes Leigh’s hand in his.

Her first instinct is to retract her hand. Her second response is to flinch in anticipation of pain. She has never had a man touch her intimately before and she is William Sauber’s prisoner after all.

But William gently strokes her hand with his fingertips and it actually feels quite soothing and dare she think it… pleasurable. Leigh knows that she needs to carefully assess everything that is happening to her so she can recite it later. She smiles at William and touches his fingers gently with hers and then she retracts her hand and continues eating.

They finish their meal and the wine and conversation is polite. William brings Leigh up to speed on current events outside the world of her cell. He types something into his phone and Mister Bigelow reappears and clears away everything and leaves behind another bottle of Grange and two fresh glasses.

“That will be all for the evening Mister Bigelow,” William says and Mister Bigelow is his usual taciturn self and simply nods.

“Shall we retire to the sofa?” William extends his hand and leads Leigh to the sofa and sits down beside her.

He pours wine and they drink a glass and then he pours another. Leigh is feeling a little lightheaded when William leans in and kisses her softly on the lips. The kiss is almost chaste, just a light brushing of the lips. He inhales her exotic perfume and is tempted to press his luck and use a little tongue but this is just a tester to see how Leigh will react. No need to force himself on her.

Leigh turns her face away and blushes.

Leigh is a little startled but not overly surprised. This man has made his intent clear, although she thought it would be the humourless Mister Bigelow who would be pressing his advances on her not William. As brief as the kiss was, it is quite comforting. It is the first time she has been kissed by a man and except for getting on her knees three times a day to fellate Mister Bigelow it is the first intimate contact she’d had since being kidnapped.

Maybe it was the wine, it was certainly the conditioning. Leigh had never equated crossdressing with physical intimacy before she was kidnapped. Sure, she had kissed and cuddled other crossdressers when she attended various functions but she had always gently declined any attempt at carnality. She had masturbated sometimes when she was dressed as Leigh and had taken a passing interest in crossdresser pornography whilst doing so but this was different. Different even to dropping to her knees and fellating the silent behemoth that was Mister Bigelow.

William is also surprised. He has taken more than a professional interest in Leigh’s progress and has begun to wonder what it might be like to be in her presence. His original plan was to have Mister Bigelow progress from fellatio to coitus, even if that meant coercion but he decided to take on that role himself. He found that being in Leigh’s company was strangely arousing. He never thought of her as Lee, only as Leigh. She had beguiled him from afar and now that he was sitting beside her he was captivated by her.

William places a single finger on Leigh’s chin and turns her face toward him. She does not resist but her pretty green eyes are filled with confusion. His finger strokes her cheek and then brushes the outline of her full lips and she looks at him imploringly. Does she want him to stop or does she want him to kiss her again?

Only one way to find out.

He leans in and presses his lips to hers and kisses her chastely again but this time his lips linger on hers and Leigh does not turn her face away or protest. He presses a little harder and Leigh gasps. Her breath is sweet with the chocolate mouse they ate for desert and the fruity Australian shiraz they have drunk. William puts his arm around her and still the kiss lingers.

Leigh is confused. She has of course observed other men and has assessed their degree of handsomeness, persona and comportment but never with a view to their suitability as a suitor. There is no doubt that William is handsome, dashing and personable. His masculinity somehow exaggerates and substantiates her femininity. She has never felt more like a woman as she does now with William’s arm around her and his lips pressed to hers.

She knows that she shouldn’t be doing this. She knows that she is falling into his trap and doing so easily but she opens her lips just a little. She lies to herself and tells herself that she is just trying to take a sip of air but when the tip of William’s tongue slides over her lips, the tip of her own tongue greets it. William takes her in his arms and kisses her deeply and Leigh allows him to do so. She’s not initiating anything. She being compliant because she is his prisoner.

These are the thoughts that are rolling around her head as she snuggles into William’s warm embrace and puts her arms around him.

William is justifying his actions to himself too. He’s doing this because it will provide video evidence that Leigh is responsive and a willing participant to their ardour. He is not forcing her; she is receptive. He is not doing this because he is besotted with her or because kissing her and holding her whilst enveloped in the nebular of her Dior Poison perfume is the most exotic and erotic experience he has ever experienced. His cock is erect because it’s reactive to the situation not because he desires the gorgeous woman he is currently kissing.

Similarly, the uncomfortableness that Leigh feels as her penis begins to become tumescent between her legs is because she has been denied affection for so long. It’s not the same as being face-fucked by Mister Bigelow who likes to rub his cock on her face when he’s finished using her. Leigh is only feeling concupiscent because William is being deferential to her femininity; it has nothing to do with William’s lips pressing against hers or his tongue gently probing her mouth.

The two inamoratos continue to lie to themselves as they embrace and smooch like teenagers on a first date; both of them feeling an awakening that could lead to dangerous ground but both unable to acknowledge their true feelings.

Leigh realises that she is falling into William’s trap. He has told her that he intends to seduce her and make her his willing supplicant. It will all be caught on video and used to blackmail her.

She breaks the kiss and whispers in his ear.

“I’m not going to have sex with you William. Not unless you force me to do so,” her breath is like butterfly wings caressing his ear.

William smiles at her openly and once again Leigh is taken by his handsomeness. If she has to endure ravishment at least it will be with a man she finds physically attractive and who has a modicum of grace and civility. ‘More self justification,’ her amygdala, the part of the brain that justifies rash behaviour, tells her.

“No you are not, but I’m going to keep kissing you and caressing you unless you push me away,” the twinkle in William’s eyes only makes him look more charming.

William kisses her again and Leigh makes no attempt to fight him off. Their kisses become more impassioned and they hold each other closer. When William pulls Leigh down onto the divan so that they are lying side by side she doesn’t protest, even when he puts his hand on her ass to adjust her position. In fact his strong hand on her buttock elicits a plush snugness that is both appealing and strangely exciting.

Their kisses become more impassioned as each of them surrenders to their desires. Leigh excuses her behaviour by circumspection: subconsciously chanting the mantra: stay calm, comply with demands, establish a rapport and build a connection.

William justifies his actions: we have to get pictures and even video of Leigh in flagrante delicto. The very words he spoke to Jack Dollarhyde.

They are both lying to themselves.

Leigh can feel William’s erection pressing into her belly through their clothing. An erection that she has invoked. An erection that her beauty, her sensuousness, her sexuality, her femininity has induced. His lips are tender but demanding, his tongue delicate but coercive, his fingers caress her buttock, the satin gown slithering across her satin-lycra blend panties and shimmery pantyhose, coaxing freshets of delight to scutter down her legs and across her haunches. Her cock is achingly tumescent and longing to be freed from its satin prison.

William feels Leigh’s lips part for him, her tongue flitters against his, her body moulds herself to him. He senses her breathlessness and her ardour. The satin gown feels like gossamer against his fingertips. He can hear her whimpers and the slithering sounds her dress makes as he slides the fabric along her panty-clad buttocks. His cock is straining against his trousers, aching to be released. He is not trying to disguise the fact that he is rubbing it against her belly.

He shucks out of his jacket and kicks off his shoes, momentarily breaking their embrace, sensing Leigh’s disappointment when he does so, and she welcomes him back by wrapping her arms around him, kissing him deeply and drapes one leg over his. The split in her gown opens exposing her thigh all the way up to her waist.

William’s hand goes to Leigh’s thigh and he begins to caress the expanse of flesh he finds there, skimming his fingertips down to her knee then slowly back up her leg to the top of her thigh. He pauses to further explore the sensitive area behind her knee and at the top of her thigh, his fingers fondle the crease where her thigh joins her torso. He feels Leigh squirm, not with trepidation but with yearning desire. Her coltish legs are well-formed, the hours spent spinning have paid dividends, her expensive nylons feel sleek and slithery to touch.

Leigh begins to tremble when William strokes her leg. He is the first man to touch her so intimately. She discounts the doctors and the masseuse who have manipulated her limbs for therapeutic reasons. William’s touch is explorative, sensual and delicate. His touch lights up the nerves in her flesh as her diaphanous pantyhose caress her flesh wherever he touches it. Leigh always wears nylons, either pantyhose or stockings. She loves the perception of the translucent hosiery on her legs. Her pantyhose are always sheer-to-the-waist, her stockings are always fifteen denier or finer. Leigh has never understood why modern women eschew hosiery. Her first ever item of female apparel was a pair of her sister’s discarded pantyhose and she fell in love with them the first time that she put them on.

William’s hand slides all the way inside the slit in her dress, exploring the sheer expanse of her pantyhose that covers her belly and then the lace trim on the waist and legholes of her full-cut satin-lycra blend panties. He glides the material of her underwear across the panty part of her hose and Leigh is delighted by the sensations radiating from her groin but she also knows this is where she should stop him or at least protest.

Then William does something daring.

His hand slips between her legs and he gently caresses her swollen member lying along her perineum, trapped in layers of satin, lycra and nylon and Leigh is so overwhelmed that she nips William’s lip as she yelps with surprise and delight. He cossets her distended member, his fingertip running along the length of her imprisoned phallus. He doesn’t think what he is doing is ‘gay’, he would never touch a man’s penis but the appendage he is fondling trapped between Leigh’s legs is her sex organ and he wants her to feel the same pleasure that she is effectuating in him.

Once again the alarm bells ring in Leigh’s consciousness. She should stop what is happening right here and right now or force William to use aggression, which she is almost certain he wont. So far he has been attentive, gentle and, dare she think it, loving. Then William quickly and boldly slides his hand inside her undergarments and frees her distended appendage and lays it flat against her belly. It is still trapped in her nylons and panties but is no longer discomforting and Leigh relaxes and allows her testes to descend from her inguinal canals and fill her scrotum. As the drag queens are want to say… she is untucked.

This development has not jaded William’s ardour. He kisses her deeply while he strokes her cock through the gauzy fabric and feels a globule of pre-ejaculate ooze through her panties and her cock trembles a little as Leigh sighs longingly into his mouth and her leg chafes against his body. Leigh abandons any pretence of decorum, reticence and resistance and she begins to unbutton William’s shirt. If she is to be violated or seduced (her mind wrangles with the right word to use given her complicity) she wants to feel Willam’s body against hers. When William unbuckles his belt, unzips his fly and kicks off his trousers she makes no attempt to stop him.

William is finally naked and is lying on top of Leigh. The side-split in her dress is wide open and his cock his pressing against hers. Their kisses have not moderated any, in fact they are passionately pressing their lips together while their tongues explore each others mouths. They are no longer communicating vocally except to gasp, whimper and yelp whenever one of them does something to the other that invokes a spike in their plateaux of lust, need and rapture.

William can feel Leigh’s cock throbbing inside her panties as he presses his aching penis against it. Both cock’s are leaking copious dribbles of pre-seminal fluid. William slides his cock along the girth of Leight’s distended member relishing the feel of the spongy mass shrouded in satin and nylon. His own cock pulses and judders as electrifying sparklets of pleasure erupt from the pleasure sensors in his turgid sensitive flesh.

Leigh is enraptured with the sensation of William’s cock gliding across her steely appendage. The sensation of William’s thick prong pressing against her aching organ, fretting the slippery satin of her panties against the diaphanous nylon of her pantyhose is the most decadent sexual experience she has ever experienced. It is almost overwhelming being fully feminised: bewigged, her face beautified by cosmetics, her body shrouded in the satin sheath dress, her legs encased in the sheerest of hose, her genitals swathed in satin, enveloped in a cloud of perfume, with this handsome man astride her, lusting for her, kissing her, cosseting her.

She knows the French word for their carnality is frottage. She has witnessed it in the pornography she is bombarded with nightly but never dreamed how wonderful it might feel. She intuitively wraps her nylon-clad legs around William’s torso and locks her hands around his neck and lifts her buttocks to meet his thrusts. She spurs him on; raking her high heels along his flanks. She is close to extremis and aching for release.

When release comes it is spontaneous and synchronous. They orgasm simultaneously, holding each other tight, pressing their bodies together, their cocks fretting against each other, Leigh’s silken-shrouded legs scissoring against William’s body. Their spunk erupts and comingles. Leigh’s semen bursts forth through her panties soaking the fabric with her jism. Their kisses are frenetic as they grind against each other, eliciting every scintilla of carnal pleasure from each others bodies.

They hold onto each other long after they have climaxed; kissing, canoodling, enjoying the feeling of their bodies pressed together, their tongues intertwined, their slowly softening cocks pressed together in a swamp of cooling semen.

To be continued…