Wednesday round up. .......if it posts!

 Hi Everyone

Welcome to Wednesday. Must admit it has been another slog  getting Blogger to behave, but I wanted so much to share these with you nothing was going to stop me.

Enjoy

XXX

Andy

   

Firstly here is.....well I think I will let our friend Amber explain

Here is a picture story of a mission that Andy did for Lady Jane: infiltrate a harem, seduce the Sultana, and escape with her after persuading her to testify against her arms-dealer husband.

There is a second part to follow

The world of the lady travelling alone seems to have spread.

You can imagine what these two have on their minds.  

And you already know what she has done, but perhaps her colleague will go and help this dear lady find her way to the correct connection

Now some super sweet images, from the world of Andy and Aunt Jane, created by Sissy Dani

When Jane and Andy go to a Star Trek convention they always dress as Ensign Pinky and Captain Slickenwsmooth

Early in Andy's story, Aunt Jane sent him to pick out new shoes.

Shopgirl: "Are you sure these heels aren't too high for you to handle, dear?"

Andy: "Oh, no, my Aunt Jane has been training me to walk femininely in up to seven-inch heels. ma'am."

Aunt Jane sold the rights to Andy's story to a TV producer. Now the only question is will this be a sit-com, a soap opera, a romance, or a reality show?

Andy gets a new blonde look,ready for the new product promotion

And now here is the next part in the brilliant story started this Monday, by our dear friend Skinnie Stallion

Artistic Studies

By

Skinnie Stallion

6. No Way Out.   All the way in.

During the journey, Cassie distracted herself with Flora’s ‘suggestion’ and a little mental arithmetic.   If she worked 6pm to 9pm, had one client per hour and charged, say, £50 per client that would be three times £50 making £150.   If she could get two each hour that would double it to £300.   If she could manage 6pm to midnight, that would be six hours work.  With two clients an hour that would double again to £600.  If she could get Monica to join her, that would double again to £1,200.   Put like that, it seemed a viable option.  She could work Brixton Road while Monica handled the tube punters on Victoria Road.  If they worked together, she could pay off the debt in…. what was £40,000 divided by £1,200 ?..…  .. er…… er… let’s say a bit over 30 days.   Surely Bergman and Knightley would agree to that?

Cassie went back to checking her working.   Was £50 reasonable for a blowjob?   She thought so.  It had been ten quid when she was a student but Cassie expected a premium for experience and sophistication.  And then there’d been inflation since her student days.

Cassie’s thinking took another line.   She wouldn't want to go further but maybe Monica would.   Monica would do what she told her to do.   Some blokes would like fucking a girl, a girl like Monica.   Or being fucked by her.   Cassie guessed she could charge £200 for that.  Or say an hour or her ‘company’?   But if she only manages two clients a night, that’d be just  £400.   And she’d need to rent a room or hotel.   That’d put up the cost.   Blowjobs round the back alleys would be far cheaper and less demanding.

Cassie stamped her heel into the carpet of her old Ford.   Damn it!   If she’d kept Sandy, she could have put both her and Monica to work.   She wouldn’t need to consider working herself.   She could ‘manage’ them.   She baulked at the word ‘pimp’.   The girls could have provided her with a nice little regular income.   Now she had only Monica.   She’d have to make do with what she’d got.

Cassie parked along the street since a white van was annoyingly parked outside her house.    Perhaps her neighbours were having some work done.   She rang the front doorbell expecting Monica to answer.   She rang a second time.  Music was blaring inside.   Monica had become a Radio 6 fan.   At least Cassie had persuaded both her and Sandy to move on from Radio 1 and Capital.   She’d have to speak to Monica about not disturbing the neighbours; they weren’t going to want any nosy intrusions if Monica was going to be entertaining visitors.   Cassie got out her key, opened the door and stepped inside.   She just had time to register a hand grip her wrist but didn’t feel the needle puncture the sleeve of her lovely new coat and enter her upper arm.

Cassie had little recollection of the next few hours.  She vaguely remembered undressing but she couldn't remember why.   She didn’t know where she was.   She did know that she couldn’t move.  Her arms were clamped beside her.   She felt warm.   Nice tingly and warm.   She liked that gentle buzz.  Had Monica been fucking her again?  Fucking her while asleep.

Cassie could hear voices but could only dimly make out what they were saying.   “I like how you got her to put on her black shoes before we started taping her.   Black goes so much better than red.   The poor darling had no idea what she was doing.  She positively welcomed the two plugs.”

“It’s starting to wear off. When she wakes we will complete her wrapping.”

“Shame, I though Mrs Wright would be a good Host.   Never mind,  I have no doubt she will fetch a very high price.” 

“I’ll give her water with some ket to stop her getting dehydrated and keep her calm during the wrapping.   She’ll be comfortable but semi-conscious for the journey.”

“Good.”

Cassie felt a cup at her lips.   She drank.   She felt herself herself raised to a standing position.  The ladies were still talking.   “Is Monica alright?”   

“Yes, Geoffrey’s looking after her.   She’s still as high spirited as ever but she seems to be happy to be going back to B&K.  She’s obviously sad to have lost Sandy.  The thought of staying on with Mrs Wright didn’t excite her.   With no Sandy, she’d be getting no cock.   Mrs Wright was too squeamish and preferred to use the Boys as her playthings.  That’s all well and good if they’re being treated right the rest of the time.   Turns out you can misjudge people.”  

“We should have put Mrs Wright through the formal Host Programme but I guess Ms Richards saw it more as a way of punishing her.”   

“Some punishment, to be fucked every day by two gorgeous B&K Boys.”

“We just need to learn from our mistakes.  Hopefully Monica will settle down after a little Geoffrey time.”

“Yes, Geoffrey should sort him back into a proper her.”

Cassie had no clue what happened next.   She felt she was being lowered by strong arms on to a lumpy bed.   Her mouth was severely obstructed and a bandage or something plasticky was pulled over her head and eyes.   She tried to speak but only “Mmmph” emerged past her penis gag.

Cassie heard a wooden echo and outside noise cease.  She felt isolated.  Although she knew she ought to feel terrified, she found instead a wave of relaxed tranquillity come over her as she sucked on her gag.    There was a jolt and she had a slight sensation of movement but had no clue about direction or speed.  She was lost in her dark limbo, the plugs inside her giving her solace and comfort.   Monica must be playing a game with her.   She and a friend must be taking her somewhere for their private pleasure.   It would be a welcome relief from all her money anxieties.

The B&K Bailiffs were glad when the van pulled away.   Loading the packing case had attracted attention.  Monica’s smiles and laughter in the front passenger had not helped.  The neighbours were used to seeing Cassie dressed in shiny clothes but to have two visitors in couture blazers and skirts out on the street was unusual.   Calypso and Circe didn't want anyone asking questions.  Calypso got on the phone to B&K HQ: “It’s done.   All we need is clean up to this address.   Low key.   Regular overalls.  Keep it discreet.  Leave it a week before putting up the ‘TO LET’ board.”

7. No Way Out: Purchase

Clarice Bergman was not happy.   As scion of the Bergman dynasty she was used to getting her way.   Everything at Bergman and Knightley needed to be done her way, the Bergman way.   She was giving Dina Richards a dressing down.  “You do not give malefactors a second chance, especially not the privilege of hosting B&K Boys.   This cunt hasn’t been Hosting them, she’s been using them, using them for her personal pleasure.”

“But they were unruly,” Dina tried to protest.

“Lots of Bergman Boys start as unruly.   It’s why they need to be tamed and trained to follow the true path.   They must learn not to get pleasure that way.  There’s only one route that’s appropriate for a B&K Boy.    It’s why B&K provide the B&K Strapon Harness for Boys.   If, for some reason, an owner wants a little light relief, they get their Boy to wear a strapon.  It can even be screwed on to a cockcage.   Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mrs Bergman.”

“It should be an honour for a B&K Boy to wear a strapon,   He should feel proud of wearing one like his Mistress or owner.  It’ll probably be bigger in any case than his pathetic little thing.   How else is he going to truly feel like a girl?   Certainly not by using that disgusting thing of his.  I do not want standards slipping.   We made an exception for Ms Tracey but that was because she agreed to provide a steady revenue stream with our fifty percent royalty on her installation commissions, and twenty percent on all her future works.  This cunt has provided nothing and has walked away with £40,000 of our money.   Of MY money!  Can this cunt hear me?”

“Yes, Mrs Bergman.”

“Is she plugged?”

“Yes, Mrs Bergman.  Front, rear and mouth.”

“Well I want them taken out except for the gag.  She can be controlled and suspended just by an anal hook.”

“Yes, Mrs Bergman.”

“And those heels need to be higher.   The tips of her toes should only just skim the ground if she’s properly suspended.   She needs to feel every inch of that hook.”

Clarice turned to face Cassie.   She was splenetic.  “Listen you fucking cunt!” she raged,  “you do not sell B&K Boys.   You do not try and sell MY Boys.  You do not try and sell the services of B&K Boys.”   Cassie’s eyes widened.   “Don't try and look innocent.   Calypso and Circe heard you rambling while you were under the influence of the Rope.   You’ve been a naughty girl.   If you want cock, you should have gone out and got it from real men, not try to corrupt our precious B&K Boys.   You need to learn to do without.  And you need to repay me.”

Tears started to roll down Cassie’s face.   The Rohypnol and the ketamine had long since worn off: she was fully aware of her predicament.   What had seemed like a game had taken a serious turn.   This cow had no intention of letting her off the hook in any sense.

“I will arrange the sale.   My friend Ms Abramopov has been looking for a suitable model for her next installation for some time.   She wants a change of style for her next series of shows and you’re exactly the kind of bitch she’s been looking for.    I think she’ll pay at least a quarter of a million.”

Cassie couldn't believe her ears.  A quarter of a million!   That would be an unheard of amount for her work.

“Did you hear that, cunt?   You’re going to be a work of art.   A proper work of art.   Not the kind of crappy canvases you used to produce.   You’re going to be a work of art for a genuine artist.   Mariana will sort you out.”

Cassie’s tears started to flood as Circe took the scissors to her latex wrapping and began to ease out her plugs.

Mid week Treats

Hi Everyone

I hope you are all well.

 Time for a few mid-week treats. In cluding Amber, Skinnie and Dani.

My very best wishes to you all.

XXX

A little treat for you all and especially our friend Samantha for all her kindness to me this week XX

I have heard  from a good source that gossip about passengers on planes is commonplace, well, for those travelling alone Gossip is easily attracted.

Our Friend Amber has certainly come up trumps here, managing to slip our sweet Andy into the tender touch of two blog Legends, my word Andy could die happy from such tender kisses.

This is a lovely image from Amber, Such a beautiful representation of Aunt Jane.

And here we have Andy and Aunt Jane preparing for and taking part in a great photo shoot. I love a horse ride XXX

Thanks Kitty, Love a trip to the stables XX

 Sissy Dani has also dipped her toes into the world of Andy and Aunt Jane creating these cute little images.

I have no idea of the prices but as soon as I do  I will pass them on to eager consumers

Garden party--

Andy: Oh, Aunt Jane, I feel my hummingbird stirring. 

Narrative: Andy is in for  an afternoon of thrilling humiliating arousal....

Hotel--

Concierge:  Welcome, ma'am, We've booked you and your...companion...into the B&K corporate suite as they requested. And there's a rather cryptic message for you--"We have been waiting" signed "the Sisterhood".

Thanks Dani

And now, holding everything up is the final part of Skinnie Stallions amazing tale Office Politics.

Office Politics

By 

Skinnie Stallion

6. Office Politics – Nice Weekend

Owen soon found it wasn’t only Mrs Ericsson who wanted his out of hours support.  Others were so keen to seek out his services that Pam had to maintain a booking sheet for him.  Val on reception was asked to do similar to handle weekend bookings.   Weekend bookings proved very popular.  The husbands or partners of Lumina’s executives seemed to be away a lot. 

This Friday, when Val summoned Owen to the lobby, he found Ms Halliday waiting.  So Ms Halliday wanted a turn too.  She was laughing with Val over the paperwork.   Val took the clipboard from Ms Halliday saying, “So he’s all signed out and into your care.   Have a nice weekend Ms Halliday.”

“Oh, I shall,” said the HR executive whom Owen had admired since his first interview.  “He was my recruitment selection so I think I deserve a weekend with our lovely Office Sissy.”   She paused for a moment detecting a wistful look in the receptionist.   “As you know Val, out of hours bookings are normally reserved for senior management but, if you’d like, I could make an exception for you.   I know you and Owen started at Lumina together.  Perhaps if you’d like a Friday night….?”

“Oh Ms Halliday, that would be amazing.  My boyfriend’s away next weekend.   I’d love to have someone to go clubbing with.  Owen would be perfect.”

“Would you like that Owen?” Ms Halliday asked Owen who’d suddenly gone shy, his buttocks tightening on his XL.  He couldn’t believe that Val would want to go out with him.  He wondered whether Val had toys like the execs or whether he’d need to ask Mrs Ericsson if he could borrow hers for an evening.   Or would that be inappropriate?

“Yes,” Ms Halliday.   Owen didn’t dare look Val in the eye.  It would be interesting to see whether she was like the girls in the Secretarial Pool and members of Lumina management.   He really did need to file a report to Ms Bramley but things did keep getting on top of him.

“That’s good,” said Ms Halliday.   “Now come along Owen, I’ve got a staff car outside waiting to take me to my little place in the Cotswolds.   I’ve got a lot of dictation for you when we’re settled in the back seats.   I know you won’t be able to wear a seat belt but the driver has adapted a baby harness to keep you firmly in place.”

“Thank you, Ms Halliday,” he said, following meekly.

“Bye, Owen,” Val called after him as they headed for the doors.  “Have a nice weekend.  Keep those lips moist for me.”

Back home, Owen’s mother was concerned that he was working too hard.   It was nice that his earnings at Lumina kept increasing (there were a lot of ‘special bonus’ items on his payslips that he struggled to explain) and all very well him doing overtime most evenings and going in on Saturday mornings, but now he wasn’t coming home at weekends.   According to Owen, he was needed on Executive Retreats where members of the senior team could work on strategic positioning and entry into new areas.   But her boy was looking tired.

That Saturday she got a call on the landline.   No-one called on the landline these days.  “Yes, who’s calling?” she asked.

“It’s Claudia Bramley from Bergman and Knightley.   Is that Mrs Peters?”

“Yes.”

“Is it possible to speak to Owen, please?  I was expecting him to call and he’s not been answering.”

“I’m afraid Owen’s away this weekend.   Can I ask the purpose of your call, please?  I may be able to pass him a message when he gets back on Sunday evening.”

“Sunday evening!   Doesn’t he call in?”

“Oh, he’s very busy.  He’s on some company thing or other.   The management at Lumina is so demanding.  They keep pushing him for more hours.  Pushing and pushing.”

“I quite understand.   It sounds like he’s become a very popular boy.   Anyway, please can you ask him to call me when he gets a chance.   I’d like him to come into our offices.  Please tell him to take a day’s leave on Monday.”

“But he hasn't missed a day since he’s been back at Lumina.   And he gets overtime…”

“Monday.   Please tell him.   He can call in to Lumina.   I’m sure he’ll be due some leave.” 

7. Office Politics - Checking In

For Owen, it was the situation that did it.  It had been awkward enough telephoning Pam to say he wasn’t coming in that morning.  Coming to the top floor of Bergman and Knightley was worse.  It brought it all back.  He shivered at the recollection of being summoned to see the Headmistress at school.   He’d hated waiting outside her office while his classmates could see him quivering.  He was less worried by the boys who tended to be sympathetic and recognise his plight.  It was the girls who got to him.   They’d point at him and giggle.  He didn’t feel he’d ever get over that stigma.   He cringed at the thought of standing on the carpet before the martinet awaiting his punishment for what were normally trivial uniform offences except for that time behind the bike sheds with Alex: the girls were never going to let him forget that one.  

That feeling came back with a vengeance as he waited outside Ms Bramley’s office.   He’d been here once before when history had repeated itself at B&K with Joshua.  It wasn’t that he hadn’t learned from his mistake with Alex.   He had. He wanted to try it again.

His heart sank as he was summoned to enter Ms Bramley’s office.  He knew that he’d been poor at keeping in touch with her and failing to report.   He had to atone.  He didn’t wait for instruction.  He crossed the floor and knelt before her.  It wasn’t a time for prayer, it was the time for action. Better to take the initiative he thought as he pushed her skirt aside, hoping she wouldn't consider it an impertinence.  It helped that she parted her knees welcomingly.  Some things hadn’t changed. Owen obviously hadn’t disgraced himself too much.  She was ready for the debrief.  He set about his task, eager to show how his skills had developed after three months of intensive effort at Lumina.  

He was glad that he’d decided to tuck when he was dressing for the meeting.  It seemed appropriate given his report.   His confidence was helped by knowing that there’d be nothing embarrassing to disrupt the smooth lines of his skirt: he wanted to look the perfect PA.   He felt sure he’d never want a PA although Ms Bramley might want to check.

A tight tuck and his panties would also help to hide his XL.   Would Ms Bramley notice that an M was no longer sufficient.   He was now wearing his XL all the time.  Last weekend Ms Halliday had wanted to show him that she felt neglected.   If this continued, he was going to have to get an XXL or maybe even an XXXL.  He wondered whether he’d still be tight enough for any future boyfriend?  Boyfriend?  As if that was ever going to happen when he was working these hours.   

Owen had lost count by the time Ms Bramley commanded him to stop.  He tried to ignore the moistness gathering in his latex panties, staying resolutely focused on Ms Bramley’s delicious secretions.  He was tired and his neck was beginning to ache.  At least Ms Bramley’s desires seemed sated for now and that he’d proved he was still a well-trained B&K Boy.   All her special lessons had been worthwhile.

“So Owen, I note that your technique has come on a lot but it’s changed: you’re using much more tongue and less lips and mouth.   Very good.   But you’ve been falling down on your other duties: you owe me a report.   Have you found out why we’ve lost Lumina as a customer?”

Owen stood up. His face was dripping but he resisted trying to wipe it.  He felt a cool trickle escape his panties and run down his right leg prompting him to draw his legs together and stand as if to attention.   Once more he felt like the little boy trying to explain himself to the Headmistress.   “It’s why my technique has changed, Ms Bramley,” he blurted, his nervousness causing him to forget his prepared speech.

“Sorry?   Explain yourself.”

“I needed to keep my lips closed to preserve my teeth.”

“What?” demanded a perplexed Claudia Bramley.

“My teeth.   I don’t want to chip my teeth.   The executives don't mind, in fact they like it.”

“I’m sure they do but what’s that got to do with anything?  I want to know why they’re not buying Bergman and Knightley.   At B&K we’ve made sure our recent collections focus on the female executive.   We’ve got power suits.   Jackets with padded shoulders: very 1980s, except with leather pants or PVC pants.  Tight latex panties that show NVP under tight pants or leggings.  The executives at Lumina ought to love it.”

“But that’s the problem, Ms Bramley.  The executives don’t want tight pants.   In fact, many of the staff don’t either.   It’s why they wear skirts or loose cloth trousers rather than tight pants.”

“Why ever?”

“Because of their labia, Ms Bramley.”

“Their labia?!”

“Yes, their labia.   And clits too, in some cases.”

“Clits?!   We’ve all got clits!”

“Yes, but not pierced ones,” said an embarrassed Owen.   Despite his recent intimacy with Ms Bramley, Owen still felt uncomfortable talking about private matters.   Was that why he’d avoided making this report for so long?

“Pierced?”

“Yes, pierced.”

“Well, quite a few of the ladies at B&K have piercings.  There’s nothing wrong with that.  In fact, it’s quite the thing especially with some of our younger staff.  Tits and clits mostly, I admit, but I don’t see that’s a problem.  A little clit ring can be quite attractive.  I considered getting one myself a while back.   My mistress at the time was quite taken with the idea of having me on a lead.”  Owen blushed.   He’d never thought of Ms Bramley as someone who might have a mistress.  Still, he guessed, even Ms Bramley must have started somewhere.  

“But these aren't little.   These are large.  With tags attached.”

“Tags?”

“Yes, tags, like identity tags or ownership tags.  Some even have padlocks.”

“I can guess what they’re used for.  Labia, I assume?”

“Yes, Ms Bramley.   Although there’s sometimes even a padlock on a clit just to make life difficult,” Owen sighed, “but that’s just on the juniors.”

“And these tags, do they say anything?  I hope you looked.”

“I did, although it was difficult in the dark.   The Execs’ tags all seemed to be engraved ‘TS’.  But that made no sense since none of them are trans.”

“I see.”   Ms Bramley sucked on her pen.   Owen wished she hadn't done that.   It only made things worse with his tautening tuck.   “And the junior staff?”

“That’s the strange thing.   Most are ‘TS’ too, but a few have ‘DI’, and no way are they Detective Inspectors.   They were the ones with the padlocks.”

“Oh shit!   Shit!  Shit!  Shit!”

“Is something wrong, Ms Bramley?” asked Owen.

“Yes.  Too bloody right something’s wrong.   It means we’re in the middle of another battle between The Sisterhood and The Dark Institute.   I thought those days were gone.   Tattoos are obviously no longer enough for them.  Now it’s tagging and enforced or voluntary chastity.   Or at least one type of chastity.  The Dark Institute has always wanted control of their members.”

“I did wonder.”

“The Dark Institute expect a willingness and readiness in their juniors if they have no male trainees.  I guess this way they can guarantee control, unless The Sisterhood has got there first.”

“But who are The Dark Institute or The Sisterhood?”

“There’s no need for you to worry your pretty, little head about that.   Looks like we’re going to have to switch our focus to skirts and dresses rather than pants suits for customers like Lumina.   We may even have to offer B&K Boys with the appropriate additions.  I assume you’ve not been given any metalwork?”

“No, Ms Bramley.   Definitely not.”

“Ah well, a Prince Albert can look quite sweet on a boy, especially when they’re no longer using their thing.  A PA for a PA.   I’ll do a check later when I reward you with some deskwork for a job well done.   But first I want to brief you about your next assignment.  You might as well get back down on your knees for this.  I find it strange looking at you with my pussy juices all over your face.”   As Owen knelt, Ms Bramley started, “I think some free samples might be a way to get Lumina back as customers.   You can take those in with you.  We’ll call it a perk of you being a B&K Boy.   Then, I’m afraid we’re going to need you to resign by the end of the week……”

Owen was thunderstruck.   He wasn’t going to get his night out with Val. “Bu….”, he opened his mouth to protest but Ms Bramley was prepared and pulled his head forward and ground his face against her.   

“Based on your performance, I’ve decided to take you on as a full-time B&K Boy. You’ll start next week.”

“Bu….,” again his nose penetrated her lower cleavage. 

“Don’t worry about your contract.   I’ll get the lawyers to sort things out with Lumina.   I’m setting up a Special Operations Unit.   You’ll report directly to me.  I have some assignments that will suit a boy with your talents.    In a few minutes, I’ll check how you’ve progressed in another area or whether I need you to have more sessions with Geoffrey before we send you out again.”

8. Office Politics: Checking Out 

 “Well thank you, Owen, that is most kind,” said Mrs Sandborg placing the package beneath her desk.   “You really will make the most perfect ambassador for Bergman and Knightley.”

Owen relaxed and leaned into the moment: “Well, Lumina did send me to B&K for training.”  He felt more self-assured after his meeting with Ms Bramley.  He’d only been in the CEO’s office a few times, roughly the same number that she’d been into him.  This was likely to be the last visit.  Pam and Ms Halliday had said that Mrs Sandborg wanted to do an exit interview.  It was pointless getting nervous.  Even so, he’d put in his new XXL in readiness just in case she carried out her earlier threat.   “I hope I’ve been a credit to both Bergman and Knightley and Lumina Cosmetics.”

“You have young man.  Ms Halliday tells me you’re leaving us. It’s such a shame.  Is there nothing we can do to convince you to stay?   A raise, perhaps?”

“No, Mrs Sandborg.” 

“What about a promotion?  We could promote you to the Executive Pool and make more exclusive use of your unique talents: a useless PA but a perfectly wonderful Sissy.   Status does matter.  Would you like that?”

“It would be nice, but no.  And I like the girls in the Secretarial Pool.  I feel it would be unfair on them.   I’d prefer to be one of the girls.”

“But you’re a Sissy, Owen.”

“I know,” he said ruefully.

“A very pretty sissy, but still a Sissy.  We shall miss you.  I’ve instructed HR that we must go back to having an Office Sissy from Bergman and Knightley.   We thought the quality had gone down in recent years but dispensing with the role now seems like a foolish cost-cutting measure.   You’ve proved the value to us of having a proper B&K Boy.   You can’t beat a good sissy.   Well you can, that’s part of their charm.   B&K seem to have got their training back on track.   I’ve even recommended Bergman and Knightley to The Sisterhood: it would be far simpler for them to renew their sissy stock by working with Bergmans.”

“That would be good.   I’m sure Ms Bramley and B&K management will be pleased.   And I do hope you enjoy wearing your new B&K latex skirt.  It’s a sample from Bergman’s latest JaneStyle range.  It’s designed by Lady Jane Fullerton-Jones in collaboration with B&K’s creative director Andy Latex.”

“Jane Fullerton-Jones?  I recognise that name.  I think she’s worked with The Sisterhood before.   Andy Latex too.   I’ll definitely look forward to wearing her design.   She’ll understand the needs of a modern woman.”

“Definitely, Mrs Sandborg.   She designs with the woman …. and the sissy in mind.   She really thinks about access requirements.   I’m sure Mr Sandborg will like it too.”

“Mr Sandborg does what he’s told.   If it’s as good as you say, I may be buying more items from the collection.  I think latex does look better when trying to impress a client.  I think we need to get out reps back into latex.   And if the reps are going to wear it, so should management.  We need to establish a consistent house-style.   You’ve been good for us, Owen.   You’ve reminded me of what makes Lumina special.”

“Thank you, Mrs Sandborg.”

“But before you get too complacent may I remind you that you’re still working for Lumina until the end of the week.  It’s time for you to attend to my needs.  I have a short gap before my next meeting.   I’m only in Ponte di Roma today rather than latex so I need you to take special care.   When you’re done, and it’ll be me who tells you when you’re done, Lick and blow dry, Sissy boy, and don’t stain my skirt.”

   

“Yes, Mrs Sandborg.”

So Many Wednesday Treats

 Please help keep 

our blog alive.

From only $4 a month

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Hi Everyone

   I could not let the brief chance to sit down on a Tuesday night and prepare  a  few Wednesday treats for you all to enjoy.....hopefully

XXX

 

Hopefully we have all seen the Real Sissies of Beverly Hills over on the Patreon.

Well here in the UK we have just seen the launch of the new season of Love Island ,presenter by the lovely Maya Jama and what an outfit in which to launch it.

I know it has been a staple of Atsuko Kudo's collection for a while,I mean the amazing AJ Odudu wore this perfect colour on Big Brother in 2024.

 but it seems aver since Kylie wore it at Christmas last year,that oversized biker jacket has had a lot of fans.

Amanda Holden

Even our beloved Rhys Jenner has been seen in it.

Okey

Travelling alone has become very popular,whether for business or for personal solo adventure, the fredon it gives is amazing,but beware that one polite drink with those sweet young ladies.

  Oh they seemed very nice, the daughters of an English Lord travelling across Europe to work as Chalet Girls in the Italian Alps.What would one drink possibly matter.........

Next

Our dear friend Amber has created her own world of Ideas for Andy and Aunt Jane travelling the world and getting into adventures.

Well here are a few more of her amazing ideas, for your delight.

It's Andy in riding gear, what's not to love.

The next two are all about improving Andy's posture. From boy to Girl takes time an dedication.

Now

Our dear Friend Sissy Dani,has also taken to her keyboard and dipped her toe into the world of Andy and Aunt Jane.

Perhaps you can add your own ideas as to the story,

These, like Amber's are so cute and what's more Dani has her own blog right here, so pop on over and have some fun.

http://www.entransed.blogspot.com/

Here come the classics

   Rather like Col Virginia Lake from UFO,not being around back in the 60s and 70s and  not remembering anything from the 80s (sorry) it lets one look  back and discover amazing things and one of them is the amazing Julie Newmar as the feline villain from the 1960s Batman Tv show.  

   I would imagine if Catwoman was recreated these days for Tv she would be a far less slinky and sexy creature. Only Michelle Phieffer can compare to Ms Newmar.

And now, how to follow Ms Newmar. Simple, with the puuurrfect work of Skinnie Stallion and Parts 3 -5 of his wonderfully naughty story

      Office Politics

3. Office Politics – Going up

“This would normally be seen as an Induction and Orientation session,” said Ms Halliday as she ushered Owen into a small, glass-sided meeting room, “except you’re already familiar with the building and have had your re-Orientation.”    While she went to order some coffees, he was dismayed by the number of staff walking past who’d pause to gawp at him.   He was obviously something of an attraction.  Either that or an oddity since he recognised some from his stint as a mail boy: previously they’d never given him a first glance let alone a second.

Ms Halliday returned with their coffees.  There was a faint jingle as she sat down opposite him.   His induction didn’t take long.   Ms Halliday instructed him about the duties of an Office Sissy.  He felt badly unprepared for some aspects of the work.  She talked about standards of dress and said that other items of work wear would be delivered to his home.   He would have discretion about how to mix-and-match and accessorize them.  Then she took him down to the open-plan office of the Secretarial Pool and introduced him to Pam, his new Supervisor.   Pam showed him to an empty desk with just a telephone, an empty In-Tray and Out-Tray, and an old-fashioned manual typewriter.   He couldn’t help noticing that the other girls had keyboards and large screens at their desks.  

She left him sitting at his desk with nothing to do.  It was embarrassing.  Other members of the Pool were busy or clustered around giggling.  The girls were passing something between them.  There were all clearly in on some private joke.   When Pam entered, they went back to their desks and someone pinned a piece of paper to a noticeboard.  Pam passed out work and instructions but not to him.   Rather than sit idly, he went over to the noticeboard to see the source of their merriment.

Owen was horrified.   It was a photograph.   A photograph of him in the B&K dorm with Joshua. He’d been caught on a security camera.   B&K must have shared the photograph with Lumina.  He ran to the Men’s Room before making a hasty exit and going next door to the Ladies’ Room.   He hid in a cubicle.  He had no idea that he been photographed.  He panicked about where else he might have been photographed.   Had the security cameras caught him with Ms Bramley.  Had Ms Bramley photographed him with Geoffrey?  She’d often stayed to watch.   Embarrassment turned to panic: explaining his feminisation to his mother yesterday had been one thing, but explaining his new-found preferences would be quite another.  

It took a while for Pam to coax him out.  She insisted that he fix his make-up and remove the teary streaks of mascara running down his cheeks.   Rather than return him to the Pool, she took him for an early lunch in the canteen.   Once again, he found eyes fastened on him.   Pam assured him that the photograph had only been posted so that the girls could be sure of his orientation: they weren’t used to having a male member of the Pool.   Most of  the secretaries had boyfriends and those who didn't needed to know not to waste time on him.  She promised him an assignment that afternoon.   It would be with her.   She wanted to break him in gently.

Over the next few weeks, Owen slowly worked his way up.   After being introduced to each of the girls in the Pool, and when Pam was comfortable with his conduct and performance, he worked his way through Middle Management, then Senior Management.  Duties were not too onerous although he needed to rub cream on his knees most evenings.  He was getting seriously worried that he might chip his teeth but that could wait for his debrief with Ms Bramley.

A major problem persisted that he still didn’t understand his role in the Secretarial Pool.   He was only ever given menial tasks to do.   Some days it was filing, although the manager often preferred he spend time filing his nails or theirs since actual filing kept proving problematic.  

He was already on his second performance improvement interview with Pam and HR.  HR was baffled why managers kept asking him to do their filing.   During his recruitment interview, he'd shown himself to be fairly inept.  He might know the alphabet,  but his attempts at filing usually left two drawers bulging: F and R.    Reports, irrespective of the client name, all ended up in the drawer labelled 'R’ for 'Report', while everything else was filed under 'F' for 'Filing'.    

It left Owen a bit flummoxed when managers would search in a client's folder and exclaim: "There's no effing report!"   

He'd say to himself, "Of course, not.   I may be a sissy, but I know how Report is spelt: R-E-P-O-R-T.   There's no F in it.   How could senior people not know that?"   At least he knew where something else needed fitted and filing.   Like desk and cabinet drawers, Owen liked a smooth, gliding action.   There were rarely complaints, and he left with a smile on his face.

Some days managers asked for dictation but they seemed happy to dictate and let Copilot transcribe their thoughts into documents and letters.  All he was left to do was to edit out all the Oooh!s  and Aaah!s and Just there!s from the computer’s text after spending the dictation session beneath the manager’s desk. 

He was getting better known around the building.   Even those with whom he’d not become better ‘acquainted’:  he could hear them talking behind his back.   Today was no exception.  He could hear senior executives whispering to each other when he was leaving the lift. “Is that the new boy in the Secretarial Pool?”   Was that jingling he heard as well?    It couldn’t be their jewellery.  Them too, it seemed.  He’d find out when he was eventually allowed on the top floor.

“One of my directors says he’s bloody useless at secretarial work.”

“But I’ve heard he’s very good at other things.”

“Don’t whisper, I mean he’s a fucking sissy.   He knows what we’re gonna do with him.”

“I’m told he may with us in a couple of weeks.  He’s working his way up.”

“He can work his way up me any time,” another giggled.

“Remember we can go up him: Executive perks.”

“Sounds like his perks too.”   More giggles.

Every day when he got home his mother asked him the same question: “How was work today, Owen?”  

“OK, mum,” was his usual brief reply.  How could he tell her how and where he spent most of his time at work?   How could he tell her about the intelligence he was gathering for B&K?  

4. Office Politics – Annual Sissy

Eventually Pam considered Owen was ready to rise to the heights of the C-Suite corridor.  The senior executives had all heard a lot about him and were keen to get better acquainted with the new Office Sissy.     Today he was being introduced to new VP who’d recently joined from a Swedish competitor.  

“But, I thought he was a girl,” said the new executive.  Owen kept his eyes down, avoiding eye contact like he’d been instructed.  He could glimpse that she was wearing a grey trouser suit and sensible heels.   How boring?!   And trousers could be such a nuisance.

 ‘A girl’!  She thought he was a girl.  That was a confidence boost.  At least he was meeting one of the criteria that Ms Bramley had described in a top-flight B&K Boy.   She expected a B&K Boy to have a certain “Je ne sais quoi”, although in her dog-French she often misquoted it as “Je ne sais cock.”  God he needed some.   It had been two months since he’d had any.   Two months since Geoffrey.   His Hummingbird was proving a poor substitute for the real thing.

Pam performed the introductions: “This is our Sissy Boy, Owen.   We used to hire a sissy each year for our own pleasure and entertainment from a company called Bergman & Knightley, but thought we should invest in one we can mould.  So Owen here had just started in postal, very cute, very sweet, very polite and absolutely useless at everything, so we swapped up his contract a few months ago, made it so tight and then sent him off to Bergmans and two months ago this hot little bitch came back. He is still totally useless at anything really, but looks hot as hell, smells wonderful and has the most amazing tongue.”

“Really?” replied the new VP.   “I feel we should get better acquainted.   I’m sure you can’t be that useless.”

“Perhaps you can help Mrs Ericsson settle in, Owen?”  suggested Pam.

“Certainly,” said Owen.   “Just let me know when you’d like me to come.”

“Oh, I will.   Very soon,” the VP replied.  “I just need to get my feet under the table.”  Owen looked up. There was something in what Mrs Ericsson said that aroused his curiosity and more.   He looked her in the eye despite Pam’s instructions.  

Mrs Ericsson gave him a knowing look.  “Come back after lunch, at say two o’clock, and you can help me unbox my bits.   I have one or two items that might interest a secretary like you.”

On his way back down to the Secretarial Pool, Owen found it difficult to contain both his annoyance and his excitement.   He couldn’t believe the words Pam had used about him.   Is that what she and others really thought:  ‘absolutely useless’,  ‘totally useless’.   Useless! Ms Halliday had said was useless at the interview and ‘fucking useless’ as a Mail Boy.  But that was as a Mail Boy.  He’d even overheard one of the Executives in the lift the other day  describing him as ‘bloody useless’. If he was so useless, why was he proving so popular and in demand?  He’d show them.   

But then again Pam had also said he was a ‘hot little bitch’ and had an ‘amazing tongue’.  He felt some reassurance in being described as a ‘hot little bitch’.  Hot!  That was nice.  Every time he looked in a mirror he thought he looked hot.   ‘Little bitch’ was nice too in its own way, although he’d have preferred ‘tight bitch’ or ‘tight little bitch’.   Still she wasn’t to know that given how neglected he felt in that area.  ‘Amazing tongue’ was good too:  all his training with Ms Bramley was paying off.   If only she’d given him some lessons in other secretarial skills.   He was starting to wonder what Mrs Ericsson might have in her box.

5. Office Politics – Working Late

The next few weeks were rather a blur for Owen, partly because his glasses were perpetually steamed up during working hours, but mainly because top executives like Mrs Ericsson proved very demanding.   It was clear why they’d reached that level: their requirements were never ending and exhaustive.  For the first time since starting as the Office Sissy, Owen found his exhaust fully tested.   

Pam was pleased with him.  His hours increased significantly.  Mrs Ericsson proved to be a regular customer although she had to compete for his services.  She’d settled in quite nicely at Lumina, although chiefly into Owen.   “Just to let you know, you will be working late tonight,” she’d said to him that morning in the lift.   “You’ll have to slot me into your busy schedule.”  Owen was very happy to fill that slot.  Part of him still yearned to fill it the way  he once might have wanted but he knew that was never going to happen.   Anyway he was finding the other way to be much nicer.   He was the Office Sissy and, if the Execs were he happy to oblige, he wasn’t going to say no.   Still, some forewarning of Mrs Ericsson’s demands was helpful.   He would be able to call his mother to say he wouldn’t be home in time for tea.  Mrs Peters was delighted with the extra pay her son was starting to bring home from all the overtime, although she worried about how tired he seemed.  Nowadays he wasn’t getting home till quite late and was often called in at weekends.   Obviously he was working hard but he seemed to go into work each morning with a spring in his step.  He must be enjoying his job.   She was so happy that he seemed to have settled in at Lumina.

Owen’s increased hours and exertions meant that something else had to give.  He found that he had very limited time to go shopping.  He resorted to using B&K On-line to order an ‘upgraded’ Hummingbird.   He needed something better than his current one. Well not better, just bigger. He couldn’t afford the embarrassment of it slipping out again like it had one evening on the bus home after a particularly energetic overtime session with Ms Ericsson.   Even with Geoffrey and Ms Bramley he’d never had that problem with his Hummingbird M.  Rather than a Hummingbird L, he decided to step up to the XL to be on the safe side.   There would still be the option of augmenting with an XXL if the XL proved insufficient.  He was frightened by the sight of the XXXL in the catalogue.   Surely no boy could wear that?   Then he remembered the CEO threatening him with her fist if he didn’t calm down and comply with her wishes.  Perhaps there were, though hopefully not him.

Owen settled into a regime: M when he was going to work in the morning, his new XL before an afternoon excursion to the C-Suite and definitely for his evening journey home.   That way everything stayed comfy and snug.   It also meant any excess lube wouldn't leak down his legs when he was walking along the corridors or for the bus.

As 5pm approached, he put in his XL in readiness for seeing Mrs Ericsson.   Riding the lift, he luxuriated in the feeling of it in his bum.   He knew he’d be spending the first hour or so on his knees while Mrs Ericsson attended to her paperwork, but he could be sure of his reward.   While Mrs Ericsson’s toys might not have the organic niceness of Geoffrey, it would definitely be even better than his XL.

He was also happy.   Today one of his fellow secretaries had called him ‘a cunt’, in fact ‘a fucking cunt’.   Apparently her boyfriend had seen him in the lobby yesterday when he was picking her up after work.  He couldn't stop asking her questions, demanding to know the name of the new girl, who she was and where she worked.  Owen played the innocent.   But in her eyes, he was a cunt: a fucking cunt for seducing her boyfriend.  Seduction?   He hadn’t done anything.   Maybe he’d batted his eyelids or adjusted his heels.   He tried to think back to yesterday and who he’d seen in the atrium.   Was it the black lad?  Or the swarthy, unshaven guy with dark tousled hair?

Owen felt so proud.  The girls thought was a cunt.  He certainly had a cunt, although he preferred to think of it as pussy, his boipussy.   Maybe being the Office Sissy wasn’t so bad after all?  Not if girls thought he was a cunt and boys fancied him.    Could it have been the black lad?   His XL had never felt better as the lift arrived at the top floor.