A Sissy Saga Ch. 09

Her voice was low and velvety and wonderfully sexy, thought Miriam as a ruttish ripple of excitement rippled through her loins. Her mouth parted hungrily in a small, nervous smile. "Emma - Really! You're drunk."

The other woman's eyes were darker suddenly, prickling with impatience, almost crackling with sensuous, horny thoughts. "Maybe I am drunk, but that doesn't change the way I feel, it just loosens my tongue. You were planning to seduce me again tonight, weren't you?"

Miriam stiffened. "Yes, but - but you're seducing me."

The other woman ignored her faint protest and leaned forward to press her mouth into her hair, marvelling at the wonderful abundance of perfumed tresses swirling about her face. Her mouth brushed Miriam's cheek like a snowflake, and then she took one of her hands and gently squeezed it, while her other hand roamed down her throat to the point of her breasts.

As things heated up Poppy still didn't move. He'd been told frequently that the role of a servant was to remain discreetly in the background and observe without making judgements or displays of emotion, whilst being ever ready to attend to an employers needs. Employers ignored servants much of the time, and certainly neither Miss Hancock or Miss Twist seemed to see him at that moment. He wasn't there. He was wallpaper.

Miriam responded to her friends caress, melding to her body, eyes closing as the soft fullness of two pairs of barely covered breasts rubbed fiercely together. Her mouth locked onto Emma's, lips churning, demanding, wanting, raising desire. The impulsive kiss seemed like a raunchy dream. A sexual encounter always seemed to feed a glow to her skin that was more usual to women ten years younger than she was, and at that moment Miriam felt radiant and young, with a glow that burned in her body like a kind of fire.

"What do your other lovers do to you, darling?" she murmured as her fingers picked at buttons and pulled Emma's blouse open. "Do they touch you here?" she asked as two breasts were bared and spread out, seeming enormous against the delicacy of her naked frame. Cupping the weight of them in her hands she lifted them, kneading and rotating the peachy orbs for a while before lifting out her own swollen breasts and rolling them against her own naked bosom.

Heart pounding, Miriam became submerged in the closeness of skin and smoothness of contact. Nipple to nipple, belly to belly mouth to mouth, women's bodies together, pleasing, enjoying, the dreamlike pleasure sweeping away all the niggling worries of the day. The sexual frustration that had been building up inside Miriam all day now had a focal point. Her hand travelled down Emma's tummy, fingers slipping between inner thighs, searching and probing. "Do they touch you - Mmmm! There! I've been wanting to do that all evening."

Feeling slightly squiffy with drink Emma giggled. "It's about time, I've been waiting for you to do it."

"I was afraid that once you were away from here and in the outside world you'd saunter off with some good looking man." Miriam whispered, "You have beauty and intelligence - you could seduce a man with no more effort than a smile, a glance."

Emma spluttered. "To hell with blokes. I don't have enough time for them and I can do without any of their romantic drivel. They're invariably selfish bastards without any imagination, and I much prefer to spend my time with someone like you."

Miriam cheered up immediately. "Oh, I do like you. Only you could make my own frailties sound so positive. Let's celebrate with a brandy."

Immediately Poppy moved stiffly forward to place down two balloon glasses, then he took the brandy decanter from the sideboard. As he leaned over to pour double-finger measures Emma Twist noticed how he used the same priestly gestures of a girl, same ceremonious droop of the wrist, the same grave concentration. Totally emasculated and with his head bent at an angle of subservience he reminded her of a lovable, faithful spaniel, passive, like some soft-eyed dog waiting to be taken for a run. Instinctively her hand strayed up the back of his skirt to enjoy the satin skin of bare flesh spilling out from his tiny panties. A wicked finger stroked the crevasse between his buttocks, and shocked by the unexpected Poppy's hand shook. The decanter jarred against a glass to send a slop of golden liquid splashing onto the table.

Miss Hancock admonished him sharply. "Stupid girl! Go and get a cloth."

"I rather think it was my fault," offered Emma, "I did goose the girlie-thing without warning."

The headmistress glared at Poppy frostily. "He shouldn't have been taken by surprise. Serving girls must be prepared for such things in a busy household, and the scatterbrain leaned forward instead of stooping, which only increases the chance of it happening." When Poppy returned with a cloth Miriam snatched it from his hand. "Go and stand against the wall, nincompoop!" she told him in plain bad temper as she mopped the puddle herself.

Emma noticed the pinched look in the face of the headmistress. The snappiness was a symptom of an underlying problem and had appeared intermittently throughout the evening, and was unusual for a woman who never volunteered a sign of being ruffled. Everything had been a treat so far, but Miriam was less than her buoyant self and appeared to have something pressing on her mind. Now and then she would fall into a deep silence with her hands clasped tight together, one palm working into the other as though she were desperately trying to grind something between them. She had never been like that before, one minute laughing and the next looking crushed with worry.

She stared at her, not wishing to be nosy but riddled with curiosity she waited patiently, but finally felt compelled to ask. "Is there something troubling you?"

Miriam thrust out her chin. "I'm fine." she replied stoically.

"Well, if there is something, you know what they say. A trouble shared is a trouble halved."

Miriam Hancock's eyes flashed. "The key to success in business is discipline, dedication, concentration and patience. There's no place for soft hearts. One must never allow emotions to get in the way. Never show weakness, never lose face." She appeared to be lecturing herself, and on finishing her diatribe she sagged. "Oh damn the woman! That infuriating bitch Diana Chance-Barton believes she as her boot on my neck."

Miriam was no weakling, Emma knew that well enough. Generally she was able to make all her problems sound maddeningly pragmatic. She was a formidable character, resilient and indomitable, but there, just for a moment, perhaps encouraged by overindulgence in alcohol, she had allowed her armour to slip and given a glimpse of the mortal behind it. "Oh dear, you've allowed the woman to upset you."

Miriam grimaced. "I've run out of strychnine so I'll put ground glass in her tea the next time she calls. If Fairyfield Grange proves a failure as a school she'll take the premises from under my feet as payment for debt, and if it succeeds she's likely to impose herself as a silent, unproductive partner who'll skim the cream from any profit I make. I can't have that, I can't have her strutting about like Catherine the Great, robbing me and setting herself up as a dictator. I need to curb her impudent mouth and clip her aristocratic wings before things go any further."

Emma leaned back. Miriam's notion of a brandy would have snapped the neck of a St Bernard, so she sipped it gingerly. "Local tittle-tattle says she maintains a lodge on the edge of the family estate where she entertains her boyfriends. A local girl tidies up for her there on occasions - I believe Jennifer will know who I mean."

Miriam nodded. "That will be Monica Briathwaite - and the gossip is true, a procession of different men patronise the lodge at weekends."

"That could be the key to solving everything, and you only need find a way to turn it. Perhaps a little blackmail would do the trick."

Miss Hancock gave an emphatic shake of her head. "It's not enough. Everyone, including her husband, already knows of her extramarital affairs, and infidelity is so prevalent these days it's almost fashionable, it hardly makes people turn their heads. I must pin something more repugnant than that on her."

"Perhaps she enjoys some other deviation you can exploit."

"She'd be more susceptible to pressure if she were a some kind of pervert, but she seems as straight as a beam. She likes men and lots of them, but always one at a time."

Emma sipped her drink thoughtfully, then stretched along the sofa, devoid of complexity or neurosis, happy to be just what she was - an epitome of efficiency. "Well, if needs be we can manufacture something to discredit her. Give me a day to think and I'll come up with something to make her wave a white flag."

Miriam's mouth at once spread in a wide grin and she replied in a voice that was as crisp and even as the snow of King Wenceslas. "Exactly the sort of response I expected from you Emma, and precisely the kind of offer I need. Actually I've already a scheme in mind, but there would be advantages in having an ally to assist me."

"I see that. And anyway, it would be better if you avoided a direct link with anything underhand, you're a lady now, and ladies don't have to know how things are done. They supervise, but they don't participate."

"You'll find there are rewards for taking my side." Turning her head Miriam beckoned Poppy forward from the side of the room. "Go upstairs and remove your dress and your pants, then stand outside the guest room until Miss Twist joins you."

As the sissy shimmied away Emma chewed on her bottom lip, unexpectedly besieged by a sense of embarrassment linked to a feeling of high excitement. "Wow, Miriam! Are you giving me the chance to shag his arse?"

Miriam smiled benignly. "You like him I think, and I don't blame you. Thin, but sugar sweet. Nice bum. WILD eyes - and he fucks just like a girl. You've proved yourself faithful enough to be allowed beyond the mundane, and as long as you use him as a man would, why not? If you're prepared to assist me in the matter of Lady Diana you deserve a treat."

"That kind of thing isn't usually my cup of tea, although with Poppy I will admit to have given it some thought. I wasn't sure what your attitude would be to such a thing."

"When placed in the outside world attractive young men in short skirts will constantly be used in wicked ways, and since they're shameless about frolicking with each other and Hardwick abuses them all the time anyway, one can't be blame oneself for wishing to dally with an arse like Poppy's now and then. Indeed, why should dirty old men have all the best fun? As long as the dear stay on the receiving end of things there'll be no harm done to his girliness."

Suddenly heady with wrongful thoughts the younger woman stirred. She knew she should be disgusted with herself for getting hot about such a thing, it was a perversion she'd never practised before, but ever since she'd first met Poppy in the common-room she'd been beset by curiosity. She'd observed him many times as he made his way along the corridors, noting how his beguiling bottom rolled provocatively beneath his flouncing short gymslip, making itself known and simply begging for some extra-special attention.

"He's a darling." she murmured almost shyly. "I - er, I'll need to get something from my room."

Miriam Hancock was years past being shy about anything and she gave Emma's hand a slight squeeze. "Use one of mine. I've a lovely squirty thing with balls that can be loaded with replica semen."

Poppy checked his watch while he waited outside the door of the guest bedroom. Time was irrelevant, but for a moment it gave him something to do. He'd been sent to Fairyfield Grange while his mother served a term of imprisonment for something or other, and he'd learnt to be content just doing as he was told whilst acting out the role of an empty-headed bimbo. Appearances were more important to him than intellect, and everyone acknowledged he was a golden delight, beautiful to look at, with honey coloured skin and long dark lashes over bright eyes. He was fond of asking questions, but lazy about forming answers into something logical, being eternally preoccupied with enjoying life.

The wristwatch was one of the few items he was wearing. He was stripped down to his stockings and a meagre black lace garter-belt - and shoes of course, he still wore the high-heeled shoes - and the earrings and the gold ring in his bellybutton, but that was all. He wasn't unduly uncomfortable. Being the son of a high-class prostitute he was quite familiar with depravity, and when his leaning towards homosexuality became obvious his mother had started renting him out to those of her clients who expressed an interest. She hadn't even drawn back when some of them asked her to dress him in girls clothes. He didn't mind that. He didn't mind dressing like a girl and going with men. Men appreciated him, they said he was gorgeous, and they said he was as tight as a duck and no matter how often he was used the muscles in his bum always snapped back like elastic.

After some time Miss Twist appeared on the landing looking slightly tipsy and aglow with excitement. She paused at the top of the stairs in the manner of a panther surveying a helpless fawn in a field; hungry and predatory, eyes bright and alert, red mouth slightly agape. Poppy looked lovely, she thought. A pretty face as smooth as an apple and with a darling little mouth that had lips sweetly defined and just a tiny bit pouty - irresistible and tailor-made for kissing. And those eyes - he had eyes that could be wide and disarmingly innocent one minute, and yet narrow and scintillating at the mere turn of his head. In the absence of men his little tricks and pretences were usually reserved for other sissies, but he'd sometimes try them on women if he though he could gain some indulgence.

His expression on seeing her was one of alarm. He returned her stare, becoming aghast as vague suspicions in the back of his mind became confirmed in reality. Emma had retained her cashmere sweater, but she'd removed her jeans to reveal bare legs and an enormous thrusting prosthetic strapped in place at the apex of her thighs. Just like the one Miss Hancock had used on him the previous night it was moulded to resemble a male member in the highest state of arousal, displaying veins as thick as ropes and a domed tip worthy of a battering ram. At its base, swinging heavily between her legs quivered a representation of bloated testicles.

Poppy's ability for spontaneity deserted him and he stood as if paralysed. He was aware of the school teachers eyes running over him, scrutinising his shape and faultless complexion, but all he could do was swallow hard and it was a moment before he realised he was being spoken to. "P-pardon!"

Miss Twist gazed down at him, making a show of being patient. "I said, you look ravishing Poppy."

"Oh, I see! Thank you miss," he replied in his best little girl voice, suddenly feeling special, "Thank you very much."

She studied his body and his outlandish, long penis at rest on the cushion of his testicles, then forsaking any further preliminaries she leaned down and kissed his forehead and his face, taking his sexy, pouty lips in her mouth and biting them softly while her hands caressed his bare chest, tracing the shape of his breasts and strumming his small nipples. So warm and smooth, just like a girl. "You're a very pretty girl Poppy."

He blushed. A beautiful woman was flattering him! His cock twitched and he felt his body glow from nipples to kneecaps and he immediately felt fragile, sensitive and tingly hot. As she jerked his proud little teats between her fingers he began to twist and turn. Eyes closed, lips parting and swelling, his previously inactive penis suddenly becoming full blown and heaving out from his thighs.

Miss Twist ignored the obvious sign of male arousal and gave his breasts one last friendly squeeze before clamping her hands around his neck and shoulders, calming him and easing the tension from his body before allowing her palms to slid down his back. The sissy youth was lithe and lightweight and she needed little effort to scoop him up and fasten her mouth onto his thrusting chest.

"Ooh, miss!" Poppy sighed as she sucked on his nipples, savouring them for a moment before leaving them glistening with saliva. His head rolled back, but she held him firmly while cupping his balls in her hand and bobbing them up and down. When she spoke her voice trickled out like warm syrup.

"You're going to be my sissy girl tonight. I'm going to fuck you. You'll like that, won't you?"

"Oh, I, um! I dunno miss."

"I know you will. You're a sexy little witch who enjoys teasing everyone with a pretty bum, so I know you'll like it. But I want you to ask for it. I want to hear you say, FUCK ME."

Her demand was depraved enough to make even Poppy blush, but there was no way he could avoid a reply. Pupils at Fairyfield were never allowed choices. Shamefaced he turned his eyes down to the floor. "Oh - er - f- fuck me, miss."

"What's that? I could hardly hear what you said. Say it again, louder this time, and say, PLEASE."

He risked an apprehensive glance at the facsimile penis jutting arrogantly from between her strong thighs, noting how the overfilled polythene ball-bag was making a slaver of opaque fluid exude from its tip. "Please miss. PLEASE fuck my arse, miss."

The corners of Emma Twist's mouth turned up in an expression of immense satisfaction and her hot breath fanned against his ear. "Yes, of course, and you'll want my girl cock-cream too, won't you? You'll want me to fill your bum with it."

"Yes miss. Stuff me miss, I'm your panty-toy cum-queen tonight."

Without another word the woman wrapped her hand around the she-boys smooth, stiff cock and towed him through the bedroom door.

***

Wendy was familiar enough with the layout of the house to be able to get into the east-wing without any trouble. There was just a short corridor and a door with a notice pinned to it prohibiting anyone going beyond, but the door was never locked. The whereabouts of the key had never been discovered and his aunt had repeatedly put off the idea of securing the door permanently. But if going 'out of bounds' didn't make him nervous the purpose of his little trip made him decidedly so. Associations with Outsiders were utterly banned, and goodness only knew what Aunt Miriam would do with him if she discovered he was seeking to meet Judd, a boy from the village, so he kept even his breathing soft and tried not to make a noise. Somewhere in the house a clock chimed midnight. Everything was still, but he kept a wary eye out for Gloria who was known to sometimes roam the dormitory corridors until the early hours and could pop up in the most unexpected places. Meeting her would ruin everything since she invariably masturbated anyone she found out of bed.

Wearing just a bathrobe and slippers he stepped through the door into the dingy corridor beyond, sissying along quickly at first with the aid of a small pocket torch, but slowing down as he progressed. He was excited about his date with Judd. He was gaga over the naughty bad boy. That gigolo was a man, and the thought of taking a bottomful of cock from such a beautiful, strong-thighed lover made his testicles stir.

The east-wing was bigger than he remembered from his excursions of the past, the walls reached up to a high ceiling open to the rafters, and a labyrinth of forbidding passageways snaked about between dark rooms matted in cobwebs which were eerily illuminated by cold moonlight coming through undraped windows. He wasn't frightened, he just felt a certain anxiety about the place.

He wrinkled his nose against the damp musty smell that pervaded everything. Outside the summer night was still and serene except for the faint whirring of insects, but the black shadows inside the building created an atmosphere of brooding expectancy. His heart began to flutter as he realised he didn't know exactly where Judd may be among all those rooms, but at the top of a set of stairs he paused to glance over the balustrade and then heard a noise below. That's it, he thought. Judd would have entered through a window on the ground floor, so he had to go downstairs to find him.