The Night Sissy.

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Hi Everyone

Here we have the first of a 2 part thriller set within the world of Bergman and Knightley.

This is why I am spreading the Wednesday round up out so I can catch up on some of the classic Skinnie Stallion stories which I have not had time to process and I apologise to Skinnie for being so lax.

To those who know, you will get the hint from the title, but for those who do not, this is a play on the superb Night Manager Tv series.

 Settle down and enjoy,but first a couple of things.

Those who visit Patreon will have noticed  Carol Vorderman blog legend, has been seen at the Bergman & Knightley seminar and for those who have not, we have this from our on the spot reporter.

You wanna know more, slip on over to Patreon

following on from that, here is a little tribute to the amazing Sebastian Cauchos ,who creates latex pieces that show how latex can be worn as part of an everyday outfit in the most stylish way, its like as it Ralph Lauren moved into latex. 

I can see Ms Vorderman wearing these styles with ease.

This is what I mean, a slick latex blouse with a quality detail, teamed with classic feminine tailored pants. Effortless style.

What a stylish blend, the double layered latex top teamed with those beautiful tailored pants, the colour combination is perfection

Also......What a beautiful lady

 It would not be a round up without at least 1 celebrity spot and this week it is the amazing Maura Higgins in a quite insanely tight white latex outfit at  the Victoria secrets show this week. 

I mean, how the heck does one pee in that outfit?

Ok, while you think about that.

Over to Skinnie.

The Night Sissy

By

Skinnie Stallion

1. Angela’s smashes: The Honourable Schoolboy

Angela Blur sat her desk lost in thought.  She found it easier to think in her office at Bergman and Knightley than in Whitehall, or that monstrous concrete edifice in Vauxhall.    She drummed her fingers.   She felt secure here.   Bergman and Knightley were professionals.   Her relationship with Rebecca had provided her with cover and assistance over the years, and she enjoyed being a B&K Host.   It allowed her to shelter and nurture her fledgling agents, as well as a little recreation of her own.

The Princess was there on the Bergman and Knightley customer list. The spend on her account was astronomical.  No wonder Rebecca could afford to drive a top of the range Range Rover.   The Princess had also used the Elite Service though whether that was for her or her husband was unclear.   More likely it was for The Network, and one of their premium customers.  Or to prepare one of their offerings?

The odds against the mission were high, and that was without considering what it would take to get the support of her superiors in the Foreign Office.  She was going to need budget for this one.   There were so many variables and vulnerabilities, and everything was going to hinge on one individual.   It was going to be a big ask.   Could she really expect Johnnie to step up again?

Angela needed someone who could penetrate a racket that extended across the globe.   Although run out of the Middle East, its network and tentacles extended from Asia and Africa into Europe and the Americas.  Drugs, people trafficking, money laundering: The Network had created its own ‘virtuous’ circle wrapped inside a luxury tourist business. Previous attempts by other intelligence agencies and police forces to close it down had failed.   It was like clutching an eel.   Despite its scale, there was no obvious base, no offices, not even a clear command structure.   It used heavily encrypted satellite cyber traffic and crypto-payments to keep the network moving and the money flowing.  The very title ‘The Network’ said it all: Interpol didn’t even know what the organisation called itself.  Unless Cheltenham or Langley made a breakthrough with quantum computing it would take years to read any of The Network’s communications traffic.   MI6 and Foreign Office were blind except for identifying The Network’s leader but he was elusive and lived the nomadic existence of his ancestors.  

When she’d started with the Intelligence Services, Angela had been trained in the principle of ‘follow the money’.    That worked well until cryptocurrency made it more difficult though it was still possible to spot spending patterns and ostentatious, unexplained displays of wealth.   In consequence, Angela had developed her own principle: follow the cock.  It had served her well in recent years.   International criminals had their weaknesses just like everyone else but they had the luxury of sufficient money to indulge their fleshy fantasies.

She’d identified Johnnie’s potential some years ago when he was a truanting schoolboy in Wandsworth.   She’d observed him carefully and recognised his preferences before making her move.  She’d got him to apply for a porter’s job at a luxury hotel in Mayfair frequented by diplomats and their contacts.   Despite his youth, he’d soon been moved on to the front desk. His talent with customers was exemplary: charming and smooth, and always willing to do that little bit extra.   It was a short step to take on the unwanted late shifts where he could watch the customers' comings and goings, observe the liaisons and exchanges, and have charge of the night safe.   No-one was going to suspect an effeminate boy who was always talking about his latest conquest or disaster at one of the city’s gay bars.  Black eyes, bruises and bunches of flowers were all part of his accessories.   It was amazing what a pretty boy fluttering his eyelashes at customers could achieve, be they male or female. Often he’d get invited up to a customer’s room but he’d decline while working though offering to drop by their room at the end of the shift.   Nothing was too much trouble.  Gleaning after-hours pillow talk was all part of Johnnie’s modus operandi.   People like to boast.   What was a spy ring to some silly sissy who just wanted his ring penetrated?   Johnnie was adept at staying clean himself while switching their ketamine for proper anaesthetic to allow him to search their room.   They’d wake in a dreamy state of happiness after he’d left them with a creamy finish.   What diplomat, spy or gangsters was going to tell his masters that he’d enjoyed being fucked by an effeminate gay boy?

While Johnnie did the field work and the hard grind, Angela got the plaudits.  The intelligence she provided made her a smash hit at the Foreign Office and it was all down to Johnnie.   She’d need to remove him from the hotel.  Maybe that was sensible anyway in case his cover got blown.   Johnnie had blown so many things and penetrated so many spy rings but she didn’t want to compromise her asset.  He’d proved his worth and his tradecraft.   She’d trained him well.    But his next role would be far more challenging. 

2. Angela’s Rubber Johnnie

Angela needed Johnnie for this mission.  She checked in to the hotel as a paying guest and sort out the services of the front desk.   It wasn’t just men who had their needs.   She asked if they knew of any gigolos operating in the area.  Around 6am after shift handover, there was a tap at her door.   It was only after she’d fucked Johnnie for the second time (well why not – a boy like Johnnie deserved his treats and a special Angela bonus), that she broached the subject with him.   She explained the cover story he’d need to develop.   Given his background, the foundations were already laid; they just needed a little embellishment.  At least her plan would ensure that he got plenty of cock to keep him happy and fit for the fray.   But before she got him to resign his job at the hotel, she needed to get other pieces in place.  

She gave Rebecca Knightley part of the story when they had one of their after work assignations.   Neither Amanda nor Rebecca were worried by their relationship.  What was suspicious about a B&K Host having an extra-curricular affair with a member of Bergman and Knightley senior management, even if she was a member of the Knightley dynasty?   They could discuss Circus business while shagging to their hearts content.

Before she sought help with Johnnie and they made love, Angela checked on Rebecca’s progress in cultivating Amanda Reid: fieldwork before fucking.   Angela had identified Amanda as a potential agent given her business contacts some months ago.  Since then, Rebecca had been steadily turning Amanda into something altogether more willing and malleable.   Progress has been smooth:  by taking small but ever firmer steps, Amanda was becoming Rebecca’s willing submissive.   Angela had to admire Rebecca’s powers of seduction.  Maybe it was something that came with being a Knightley.   Sometimes Angela was grateful that she’d always been a top, even with Rebecca.

When Angela talked to Rebecca about Johnnie needing to receive B&K’s Elite Service.  B&K occasionally provided a for ultra-high wealth clients.  It allowed them to indulge their fantasies, and often their boys’ fantasies too.    It could be a good way of helping an unwilling or reluctant boy to get over his hesitation.   The service was expensive but had its customers who wanted their boy abducted and feminised, and then delivered to their chosen destination.   Often it made the boy the perfect luxury gift for a wife who wanted a chosen boy as a B&K Boy, or a busy husband who needed a help relaxing, or a couple who wanted a maid they could share.  

It was only when Angela was slowly spooning Rebecca, alternating between grinding and thrusting that they started to discuss specifics.   In order for her plan to work, Angela needed Rebecca to take a personal interest in Johnnie and grease the path.   Fortunately Rebecca would do anything for Angela; if her top liked boys that was her call just provided she didn’t neglect her.   Despite Angela’s strapon remorselessly driving her towards orgasm, Rebecca couldn’t help dissolving in laughter when she thought about Johnnie dressed in latex and asked whether that would make him Angela’s Rubber Johnnie.

Angela insisted that while he was at B&K, he be called Johanna.   

3. Loitering With Intent

After resigning from his job at the hotel, Johnnie settled back easily into his old ways in the days before he’d been ‘discovered’ by Angela.  And now he was old enough, his AdultWork and OnlyFans accounts were bringing in a nice little income; enough for him to afford a little flat round the corner from a coffee shop in Kensington frequented by diplomats and embassy staff. If anyone investigated him and tried to ‘follow the money’, they’d find nothing irregular.  He could use the coffee shop to pick-up clients and take them back to his place or go to one of the nearby hotels provided the client was paying.   Pick-ups were more lucrative than AdultWork.   Anyone checking his finances would find them both squeakily clean and dirtily sordid.   Either way, his cover as a slutty young femboi escort was impeccable.  With his looks he didn’t need much make-up.  A hint of eye-liner and mascara was all he required if he wanted to look the part.   He could always put on some lipstick if the client wanted his cock sucked, or to kiss and have her pussy licked.

He spent a lot of time at the coffee shop.   He was content to sit back in his armchair and watch the world go by.  He knew that he might be being watched.   He had reason to loiter.   How else would a boy like him meet and pick-up clients?   He preferred meeting prospective clients in the flesh rather than on-line.   It allowed him to size them up, and to make the first move.   The shop manager wasn’t worried provided Johnnie’s soliciting didn’t attract the police.  There were girls at the coffee bar too.   What was wrong with a boy playing the same game, especially when he seemed to be at least as successful?   And did it matter if the boy did a little advertising?   Besides Johnnie’s little business cards, he left B&K leaflets on the counter and tables.  Flyering for B&K provided him with a valid income if the police ever asked.   They seemed popular with customers since they always disappeared before the end of the day, and not in the trash.   Fortunately there seemed to be an inexhaustible supply.

Now Johnnie just needed patience.

It took a while before Angela’s plan bore fruit.   Her diligent research paid off the day the Prince flew into London with his entourage.   He was staying at his country’s embassy: the cloak of legitimacy (and diplomatic immunity) always helped a criminal network.   One of the Prince’s attendants was the first to spot Johnnie in the coffee shop.  The attendant knew the Prince’s tastes.   A couple of days later one of the Princess’s maids came in and ordered two takeaway coffees: a strong black coffee and a sweet milky coffee with cardamon and whipped cream topping.   Johnnie remembered the Princess’s tastes from the playbook provided by Angela.  The maid wore a chador and  it was clear she was eyeballing him.   Johnnie noted the time.

The same thing happened the next day and the next.   The following day, a lady wearing a black burqa entered the coffee shop.   No wonder M16 hated them.  It was difficult enough getting camera recognition to work with masks and sunglasses; it was nigh impossible with niqabs and burqas.   What gave her away were the pair of Zanottis with 6” heels peeking out from under her garment and her coffee order: a sweet milky coffee with cardamon and whipped cream topping.   While she waited for her drink, she turned and faced Johnnie.   He didn’t move, just fluttered his eyelashes and smiled: why change a successful technique?   In normal circumstances, he might have expected the lady to have come and sat at his table, but that was hardly going to happen with a burqa wearer.    The lady walked and swayed serenely from the shop clutching her coffees.

She was back the next day.   This time two burly men in short leather bomber jackets and jeans that displayed builder’s bum were behind her in the queue.   They began to harangue her.  Their language got worse as they started to jostle her.   An olive skinned man in a grey suit stepped forward to intervene.   Johnnie was glad he’d hung back: the man was clearly the Princess’ security.   One of the guys decked the security detail with a single punch, while the other yelled in the Princess’ face and started tugging at her burqa, pulling at the veil.   Johnnie leapt from his set and pushed the guy aside.   He ducked the first punch and kicked the man on the side of his knee.   The man buckled but didn’t fall.  Meanwhile his colleague took a swing.  Johnnie evaded and gave a feeble soft punch back.  The man laughed and grabbed him.   His friend stopped clutching his knee, straightened  and started to punch Johnnie in the face and stomach.   As he was losing consciousness, Johnnie could hear the Princess screaming, uproar in the café, the manager yelling, and then a siren.

The next day, his bruises settling, Johnnie was receiving plaudits in the café when B&K came for him.   

4. Highway to Hell

The jeep bumped over the desert road.   To call it a road was being generous.  It was rutted and in places piled with sand.   It was bad enough sat in one of the padded front seats, Rebeccaa dreaded what it was like for Johanna crouched and curled in the cage in the back.   Johanna had to be caged for when they encountered roadblocks of either the local administration or The Network.   They’d inspect the passengers, check their papers and the cargo before nodding the vehicle through, and raising the barrier,  usually after a few dollars as a sweetener:  just another primped and feminised sissy being delivered for onward shipment to some potentate or billionaire.    The Network guards knew that the Prince might want to sample the wares before despatch, or keep for his harem if the sissy was particularly pretty, or tight and obliging.

The B&K logo on the vehicle and the security passes provided by the Prince’s Wazir helped them get through the checkpoints.   B&K was an occasional supplier.  No-one was going to argue with the Wazir.

"You OK back there, Sabrina?” rasped Rebeccaa pointedly, her throat coarsened by the arid air.   

“Sure,” grunted Johnnie as the Jeep lurched into yet another pothole.  

The vehicle slowed as it approached the encampment.   “We’re nearly there. We’re going to turn off the air conditioning.  You’re going to find your latex outfit gets very sticky when you get out of the car, but at least you can start to get a bit acclimatised.”    Johnnie grunted again.   The air-con had made that aspect of their journey from the airport bearable.   He expected he was going to sticky quite soon but for other reasons.  “And remember, you're Sabrina from now on.   The extraction team will be at the extraction point in a week's time, and then every seven days for the next month.   After that, it'll be up to you.   Unless you're able to communicate or we see you on the satellite footage, we'll  assume either your cover's been blown or you've gone native."

"Sure," said Sabrina.   Being called Sabrina was a small step compared from going from Johnnie to Johanna at the café.

The Jeep came to a halt.   Johnnie could hear discussions and then was blinded by harsh sunlight as Geoffrey opened the tailgate of the Jeep and unlocked the cage.  Geoffrey reached in and picked him up before carrying him into a nearby tent.   Johnnie was sure Geoffrey gave him a tender farewell stroke when lowering him on to the rubber play mat that protected the exotically patterned rugs.    Johnnie was going to miss Geoffrey.    Rebecca had let him enjoy a regular ‘meetings’ with Geoffrey  ever since they’d picked up him from the coffee shop.   Some B&K Boys could receive special treatment on the Elite Service at her discretion.

He tried to say calm and composed on the mat.   He could hear Rebecca speaking outside with one of Princess’s assistants.  “Here is all the required travel documentation, receipt of ownership and proof that it is very much the young man she requested. With confirmations from our contact at the Kensington coffee shop from where he was taken.”

“Thank you.”

“Please apologise to the Princess for the wait, I am sure she understands, but we have strict age protocols.”   Johnnie chuckled to himself.   He’d been past that age for four years.   He attributed being still able to pass for a teenager to his mother’s genes.  Angela had done a good job with his papers and certificates.

“Yes, we understand.   We know Bergman and Knightley follows your country’s rules.”

“We have to remain an ethical, trusted supplier,” said Rebecca.

“Agreed,” said the assistant.   “It’s what makes B&K so good to deal with: your sissies are always such high quality.”

“They’re B&K Boys,” corrected Rebecca.

“As you wish.   Once we have them, they are either Harem Boys or Harem Girls, but all are sissies.   We know what our customers like.”

Rebecca checked the signature on the delivery note while Geoffrey covertly photographed the exchange of documents with Johanna in the background inside the tent.   Angela was starting to build her evidence trail.

This concudes next week

XXX

Andy