And now finally the main event of the day.
The Spy Who Came Into The Pavillion
By Mistress LeatherBeth
Chapter 1
OK. Listen up, folks. I don’t want any of you thinking that the HotHouse Extravaganza that we heard about last time was anything like the full weekend, fetish fuelled orgies which we all attend several times a year.
For a start, Madame Stella was determined to ensure that, for all the fun that the guests might enjoy, it was never to be forgotten that there was a commercial basis to the exercise, new products to be introduced, orders and measurements to be taken, fittings to be completed and delivery dates to be agreed.
Magdalena had indeed, with Belinda’s ‘assistance’, hosted a considerable number of memorable ‘weekends’ since they’d moved into The Grange some five years ago, but even Izzy was in awe of Lois Watkins’ drive and ruthless business acumen. If Madame Stella were to have her way, then the entire population would have a minimum of two kinks each before the end of the decade, or better still, Thursday week. And HotHouse would cater for them all. But it was the pressure of this business element which restricted the event to the single evening.
And that evening was a Friday, rather than the more obvious Saturday, because the latter was set aside for an even more important event.
Thus it was that things began to wind down soon after midnight. For those living locally it was a simple matter of strolling home. However, those who had travelled a little further would use a designated driver (ever the job of the subbie). But for those without such a driver, or who were in no rush, or who were wishing to make a weekend of it, there was the Fullerton Arms.
Dick and Josie, seeing a business opportunity, had moved into an annexe in the private garden around the back of the pub, and the large family sized accommodation in the upper storey had been converted into half a dozen guest rooms. These weren’t large but were exceedingly well appointed. And the local area had excellent fishing, so Dick wasn’t at all reliant just on events at The Grange for business (although there was an overlap. They’d had more than one guest with a fetish for waders). However, he and Izzy had come to an arrangement to ensure that people who were attending events, who would not be leaving immediately afterwards, and who couldn’t be accommodated at The Grange, would be directed to the pub. And it was their architect, a Dom known as “Destroyer of Souls” (whose speciality was tickle torture), who had made the suggestion that the odd space under the eaves could be converted into a staff flat. This had suited Kat, who was looking for a place of her own as both Ben and Tess were trying to get her to move in with her, something which didn’t suit her (See Fun in the Village, Chapter 3).
Jane and Mayfield had been among the first to leave, “Mayfield is still a little unsteady,” Jane had explained, “so I’ll just make sure he gets back safely to the Vicarage.” Andy and Will glanced at each other as Jane turned away and went back over to Mayfield, who was still smiling in his deck chair. Will almost lost control, breaking into a big grin, whilst Andy only managed to stifle a giggle by nibbling his lower lip in just about the cutest, hottest way imaginable.
“I think I’ll just help with the tidying up,” said Andy, and began to collect plates and glasses to take through to the kitchen, where Belinda had already made a start on one of the many piles of washing up.
Looking round, Will saw the oversized hutch containing the latex white rabbit Cottontail, AKA Josie Atlee, and the large pet basket filled with Jules and Jazz, twitching in their sleep as latex kitten and vixen.
“’Ere, gimme ‘and wi’ these two, chum, if tha’ dun’t mind.” Will looked round, and recognised Budgie, who was now feeling thoroughly refreshed after his spell in the vacbed (not that Will was aware of this). It transpired that Budgie had made his van, which he normally used to transport his karaoke equipment, available to transport the hutch and the pet basket to the pub.
Having nothing else to do until Andy had been released from his duties and they could leave, Will assented.
As they manhandled the hutch (still containing a tharn Josie) out of the French windows and around the side of the house, Will looked for a topic of conversation. “Erm, you’re not from around here, are you?” he asked. “It’s mi posh accent, in’t it?” grinned Budgie, “folks is allus tellin’ me as ow impressive ‘tis. Nay,” he continued, “’am Ozzletwizzle born ‘n’ bred.”
“Ah,” said Will, “you’re from Yorkshire.”
“Ey up, tha’ cheeky bugger,” replied Budgie. “Tha’ conna goo reaund accusin’ decent, honest folk o’ bein’ a Yorkie. Tha’ll be gettin’ thisen a clip reaund ‘lug.” Will, startled by the vehemence of Budgie’s reply, actually took a step back, and found himself searching for a form of apology.
“Nay, lad,” said Budgie, “’am marlockin’ thee, tha knaws, pullin’ thi leg. ‘Am from Oswaldtwistle. Nex’ do-er t’Accrin’ton. Lankysheer!”
“Lancashire,” said Will. “I can see how you might not be happy with my mistake”
“Nay, lad, it’s gradely. Anyroad, wi’d best be getten this tuthri lasses t’ t’pub.”
“OK,” said Will, glad that Budgie seemed to have taken no real offence. “I don’t want to keep Andy waiting too long.”
“Andy? That’s thi boyfriend, in’t it? If tha’ d’unt mind me seein so, yon’s a brahma o’ a lass.”
“Thanks,” said Will, hoping that this was an appropriate response to a comment which, quite honestly, meant nothing to him.
At least the hutch was stable and not too difficult to manoeuvre, and Josie was soon parked next to the banked down fire in the fireplace of the pub lounge. By comparison, the basket, with its double contents and undulating, flexible construction, was the cause of much cursing in both English and Lanky, but finally Dick was sliding the bolts behind them, and they climbed into the van for the short return journey to The Grange.
As Will unbuckled his seat belt, Budgie said, “’Assume tha’ll be watching ‘cricket tomorrer?” “The game against Derrington?” replied Will, “O yes. Aunt Jane has made the rivalry quite plain. The whole village will be turning out, I imagine,” replied Andy.
“Rivalry? Tha’ d’unt know th’alf on it.” said Budgie. ‘Ave unny lived ‘ere a fyow yearn, but f’ basic loathin’ ‘ave nurr senn eaut t’ metch it. ‘A yoos think Burnley ‘n’ Blackburn were as tough as it got, but they’re proper lovey-dovey compurred wi’ us ‘n’ Derrington.
“Another thing is, they’ve wun t’league seven o’t’ last ten yearn. We wun one o’ t’uthers, mind, ‘n’ beat ‘em t’last day o’ t’season in t’decider, but they’re as cocky a bunch as tha’ll e’er cum across, ‘n’ they’re not beyont cheatin’. Wi’v got thrash ‘em tomorrer. D’ost play?”
“Sorry? Oh, do I play? Actually, yes. I was First XI captain at school,” replied Will. “Bat at three, leg-spinner.”
Budgie’s ears pricked up. “A leggy? Wi’v noan had a leggy on’t team in o’ mi time ‘ere. A conna offer thee a place i’t side, but a think as ‘ow Kat’d be reet interested.”
“Kat? Why Kat?” asked Will.
“A thowt tha’d knaw, she’s captain o’ t’ team,” replied Budgie.
Kerry Haskins hadn't had this much fun in ages. The music was beyond deafening, which was fine, because it was only fit for dancing, not listening. Kerry ground his arse's tightest black vinyl pants into the crotch of the hunk behind him and was rewarded by several smacks across the rear. He was in two minds, however. He was really enjoying himself, and after the recent busy few weeks he'd had, and having had to deal with the Yevgeny ultimatum Mr Cooper had given him on Wednesday, he thought he deserved some clubbing fun. But equally, he really wanted to drag the hunk back to his place and play several rounds of 'bang the brain out'. Suddenly he almost jumped out of his thong.
His Hummingbird (a present from Magdalena) had jumped from a pleasant 2, to a crotch-watering 10. Kerry whimpered an excuse to Sasha (the hunk) and staggered off in the direction of the toilets. Once there, he retrieved his phone, turned off the remote app, and came down with a bump. Whose dumb idea had it been to link the app to a specific phone contacts group, which he'd named 'Tashkent'? Oh, yeah. His idea. Well, the Tashkent deal was super important to Cooper Amalgamated, and if Kerry had missed a call from any of the parties involved, Mr Cooper would not have been pleased. Ah, well, at least he hadn't missed this call, thank goodness. Only a text, in fact, but a long one in which Yevgeny was making his position quite clear and supplying significant new information. And he would be making it even clearer, but face to face with George Cooper. He would be at The Grange in about seven or so hours’ time, around Saturday breakfast. And Kerry was pretty damn sure that George wouldn't care for Yevgeny to meet Belinda. And George would also prefer Kerry’s news in person.
Kerry, having turned the upper limit of the app down to a 6, tidied up his make up, put back on his lilac suede open-toed platforms with their five inch heel, and staggered out of the toilets just in time to see Sasha on the landing half way up to the Bloom Street exit, with that tramp Gloria.
“Oh, well,” she thought, “I suppose I’ll just have to concentrate on work instead. I really do need to get to The Grange before Yevgeny, or head him off, or something.”
With that she also headed for the exit.
To Be Continued
Made to remove his shirt. "You don't want to get it messed up, do you?" The application of concealer on one or two little blemishes. His hair pinned back with clips. "We don't want that in the way." The gentle rubbing in of a primer, not just on his cheeks but on his chin, forehead and ears. The even deeper and wider application of a rich foundation to take away his paleness not just on his face but around his neck so that it all bore a consistent shade. The brushing and the blending. “You’re so pale, darling. I need to get you sprayed.” And then seeming layers of eyeliner, eyeshadow mascara and blusher. More brushing and blending. "Blend, blend, blend." Before finishing with powder then lipliner, lipstick and lipgloss.
Auntie is kind and presents himself with his first compact. After all, he will need to powder his nose and learn to retouch occasionally. Finally she lets him admire her handiwork in the compact's mirror. He looks with shock and surprise at the results. Is that really him? ‘Oh my gosh!’ he thinks. ‘It can't be! I look like a girl.’ A pretty girl. And he's pink. He’s lost for words. "I'm pink," he finally exclaims. "Auntie, I'm pink!" He can't believe how well his lips, eyeshadow and blusher match the colour of his nails. Girlie pink. Or is it sissy pink? He lowers the compact and stares at his Aunt. "Auntie, how could you? I look like a girl!"
"Of course, darling. How else would you want to look?"
"But Auntie, I'm not a girl," his protests continue.
"Really?"
"No, Auntie. I'm a boy."
"Well, you're a young man. But you're so much more."
"What do mean?"
"Answer me this first: do you like how you look?"
"No."
"Look again."
"If you insist." Andy flips open the compact and sullenly looks in the mirror again.
"Do you like what you see?"
"I look like a girl."
"You've already said that, honey, and I agreed. But do you like what you see?"
"Er.... that's not fair! I can't say I don't like how I look. I think I have a nice face. But now it's all messed up."
"Is it? Is it really? What's looking back at you? Isn't that a nice face?"
"Well, yes."
"A pretty face."
"Yes, I guess so."
"A feminine face."
"Yes."
“Now put your shirt back on. I don’t want you getting cold.” Andy picks up his crisp white shirt and fastens the buttons. As he’s finishing, his Aunt moves closer to him. She’s imposing and towers above in her five inch heels. He can feel her warmth breath and smell the fragrance of her. Not just her perfume but the sensuous aroma of her body wafting from her enticing cleavage. He’s distracted. He wants to bury his face between those friendly mounds, as she lets him some days before he goes home, and pay homage to the lady who has cared for him and taught him so much. Why is he fighting her, he wonders. This must be one of her jokes. Jane’s extended index finger raises his chin and stops him staring at her bosom and makes him look her in the eye. "So?"
"So, what?"
"So, you should be pleased with having such a pretty face."
"But it's a girl's face!"
"Repetition! A point to me.”
“But I’m not a girl.”
“Repetition! That’s another point to me. Do you not want a pretty face?”
“Well, yes. But that’s not the point.”
“So what is the point?”
“I look like a sissy.”
“Yes. And a very pretty one too.”
“But people will laugh at me.”
“I doubt it. They’ll just see a pretty face.”
“But I’ll be dressed as a boy. People will laugh at me.”
“Why?” Jane demands.
“Why!!!”
“Yes, why?”
“Repetition! Gotcha Auntie! That’s one point back to me.” Andy laughs and his Aunt laughs too. Andy smiles at seeing his Auntie laughing. It’s his first smile since looking in the mirror.
“Andrew, I think you look gorgeous.”
Andy calms slightly. “Really, Auntie?”
“Yes, darling.” Jane leans forward and her soft lips momentarily touch his. It’s the gentlest and most fleeting of kisses. Part of her wants to kiss him hard and full-on and give him the love he craves, but it will be too soon. And she doesn’t want to mess up his lipstick. “I’ve always thought you an attractive young man but wearing make-up takes you to a different level. Make-up merely enhances your beauty.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Totally.”
“But I’m never going to attract girls looking like this.”
“Oh, you will.”
“Seriously?”
“Silly boy! You attract me.”
“Oh, Auntie.”
“You just look more adorable than ever.”
“But what about other girls?”
“They’ll feel the same. Chantelle always says how cute she thinks she look. If I let her, I think she’d have you for breakfast.”
“Oh, that can’t be ….”
“It will be. Girls love a pretty boy. And it’s very fashionable for boys to wear make-up these days.”
“But what about my mates? This isn’t metrosexual make-up. They’ll think I’m a sissy. This is full on Drag Race.”
“Andrew, the last thing you look like is a drag queen. You just look pretty.”
“But my mates?
“They need never know.”
“How? What if they see me? They’ll think I’m a sissy. A deviant.”
“Hardly. And I won’t claim a point for Deviation,” Jane grinned.
“That’s not funny.”
“They need never know.”
“Repetition. Another point back to me,” Andy yelps with glee forgetting his fears. Jane’s game has taken the edge away. “But I’ll still be a boy.”
Jane moves round to stand behind Andy. “Why?” She folds him in her arms and embraces him. One hand clasps his left breast while he feels her warm breasts press against his back. Her breath is now on his neck as she says words that shock him. “Not if you look like a girl.”
“But how can I?”
“Dress like a girl,” comes back Jane’s clear instruction.
“What!! You can’t be serious!” exclaims Andy.
“Never more so, honey” whispers his beloved Aunt. She so wants to kiss him. All she can do is hold him close and press him against her bosom. She looks over his shoulder and down. She can feel his body tense and see his sap is rising . “You would be perfect. You’d look lovely in a dress or tight shiny pants like me.”
“But ……..” Andy stumbles. He can feel himself hardening more as he thinks about his Aunt in her tight leather pants or even better in the new red PVC ones she’d just purchased.
“They’d see a pretty girl.”
“Won't they recognise me?” Andy realises how exciting he’s finding the idea of wearing tight shiny pants like his Auntie. Maybe she’d even let him wear latex like she did when Chantelle came round. He feels a tightening in his crotch.
“Why would they? They’ll see the prettiest girl in the area. Why would they think it was Andrew Watson, pride of the substitutes bench?”
“But what if they ……”
“….. fancied you?” Jane completed his sentence. “I think that’s more for you to answer.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’ve seen you.”
“How do you mean?”
“When we’re out shopping. It’s not just Céline and Julie you flirt with. I’ve seen you looking.”
“No!!.”
“I have,” Jane affirmed.
“No! No! NO!” Andy shrieked.
“Yes,” said Jane and gripped him even tighter drawing him fast against her body. “And that’s repetition three times so yes, yes, yes back. I’ve seen you looking at him.”
“Who?” protested Andy.
“I don’t know his name. The one with the tousled hair.”
“I don’t know who you mean?”
“The nice looking boy. The one who stares at you.”
“I don’t know who you mean.”
“Derrr! Repetition! The one who you look away from as soon as he catches you staring at him.”
“Do you mean Will?”
“I’ve no clue. But I can see.”
“Will’s nice.”
“Yes.”
“If I do wear a dress, could I wear heels too?”
“Yes, darling. Of course.” Jane spins Andy around and pulls him towards her. This time their lips meet and she kisses him hard. Andy struggles for breath. It’s not the first time they’ve kissed but never like this. He opened his mouth slightly and her tongue found his. It darted in like a snake, flickering and probing. Jane felt something stir against her thighs. He was hers. Her boy. Her young man. Her sissy. And now, most importantly, her girl.
Six weeks later
“Auntie, how long do I need to practise?”
“Until you’re comfortable.”
“Do I need to keep on being a maid?”
“You’re not a maid, Andrew. You’re my maid. Please don’t forget that.”
“No, Auntie. I know I’ll always be yours.” Jane feels a warm glow. So much has happened in the last few weeks. Her ‘girl’ has made a lot of progress. He hasn’t been out in public since he’s still learning and needs to gain confidence. So far she has only dressed Andy as a sissy maid and he has warmed to his new role. He’s been to the beautician and been sprayed. When he protested, she threatened to send him home and not to see him or take a spanking. He preferred the latter rather than the terrible alternative. After being taken across her knee and, with a sore red bottom, he quietly acquiesced to her instructions. (To be fair, he did think at first that she’d said ‘spayed’.) He’s now a rich ‘Cocktail 10’ all over. He didn’t enjoy the BSC and the waxing of his legs and arms that preceded it but he is now nice and smooth too. He likes it that. He tells his friends he does a lot of gardening work for his Aunt to explain his new tan.
The Towers have never looked cleaner or tidier. On each visit to Jane’s he lets her do his make-up and then he puts on a maid’s dress. At the moment he only has one: a black, French maid’s dress. It’s soft and frilly with a little white pinafore apron and little cap. He has recently graduated to four inch heels and now walks in them with style and grace, and a rather sexy wiggle. Any mistakes are punished with a spanking. Now he willingly goes over her knee, knowing his skirt will be raised and his little panties pulled down. Spanking is now only a few light slaps. Sometimes he wishes she’d be harder. He knows she cares. “But for how long?”
“Practice never stops. And I do appreciate having a maid again. You make such a good job of the housework. You’ll be ready soon,” she reassures. “You need some more voice practice and we need to buy you some dresses. And I think a trainer bra. We can see what we can find in ‘She Said’ or go up to London.”
“Can’t we look on-line?” (‘Again?’ he was also thinking.)
“Well, we can, but only to get some ideas about what you want and how you want to look. I think you’ll enjoy the experience of going to ‘She Said’.”
“But people might see me.”
Jane looked at him hard. He looked away realising the dilemma he was creating for himself. On the one hand he now wanted to try going out as a girl. He loved being in heels and found he enjoyed wearing a dress: so comfortable and liberating. He wanted to see if Jane was right about people seeing him as a girl. But he still found the thought of people recognising him terrifying. “Don’t worry, you can go as Andrew. At least this time. They’ll see you going in with me: a young man helping his Aunt. Only the staff will know it’s you who’ll be trying on the dresses. Anyway, I need some new toys for Chantelle: some B Balls would be good. We can go at the weekend.”
“But how soon can I go out as a girl?”
“When we have your outfits and I think you’re ready.”
“But when will that be?”
“Soon, I hope. You still need to learn how to do your own make-up. I can’t do it every time. We can start today. I’ve put your dress on my bed. I’ve left out my brushes and make-up on the dresser. I need to do some work in the study. Call me when you’re ready.”
“But Auntie, I’m not sure I can ……”
“You can and will, or do you want to be across my knee again?”
“No, Auntie.” Secretly he did: he craves her touch and attention.
Nearly two hours later, Jane hears Andy’s call. “Auntie, I’m ready.” Jane goes to her bedroom and is delighted by what she sees. Andy is wearing his new pink maid’s dress. He has done his make-up exactly like she did the first time. He looks close to perfection. The artist in him has come through. She walks round and inspects him. The dress is perfect too: the tight latex hugs his figure and accentuates his narrow waist and tight bottom. His calves are taught and he stands tall but secure in his slender heels. He shines and glistens, a vision of feminine beauty.
“You look lovely darling but you need to go over your lips again.”
“Really. I thought I’d done my lippie.”
Yes, honey. But you need gloss. Your lips need to shine.”
“Oh, OK.” Andy picks up his compact and the slender brush.
“Gentle now, nice and smooth. That’s it. Good Boy. There’s no need to look so worried Andrew, it’s only lipgloss. You want your lips to be as slick and shiny as your new Latex dress, don’t you?”
“Yes, Auntie.”
Jane loves how delicate and attractive he looks as he tentatively paints the gloss over his lusciously kissable lips.
He will be ready so soon.
Tonight she will make love to Chantelle but it will be hard for her not to think about her girl. He will be ready for that soon too. But not yet. She knows he’s sweet and would want her to, but not yet. The way he now kisses back shows his desperate passion for her, but not yet. Not yet. Not only does he need to be comfortable as a girl, he also needs to recognise his submissive side. He bends over now for his spankings with an unmistakeable eagerness. There’s still more to learn. He can get accustomed over the coming weeks to chatting with girls. In a few months she’s sure he’ll be flirting with the boys. And when that starts, while he does his maid duties, she can introduce him to some gentle stretching exercises. Over time he can move to larger sizes. She will want his first time to be enjoyable and without pain. Soon, but not yet. He will be hers before any boys. Before any rough boys. He will receive tender, feminine love. Andy has a special place in Jane’s heart. The girl she has created. Boys might come. Boys might go. Boys might break his heart but she would always be there. There for him. There for her girl. She would always be his first. And he would be hers forever. Her girl.
