A Sissy Saga Ch. 15

"We have other costumes here. The house is full of them." Jennifer said helpfully. Monty ignored her. He'd brought some items of his own and his assistant was already delving into a bag.

Jennifer shrugged her shoulders and turned away. On a table nearby lay a portfolio of work Monty had done in the past. She flipped through it, not at all surprised by the photographs inside. Monty may have been a picture-taker of wide experience but he had a singular taste and was clearly not the kind who belly-crawled through war zones to capture images of human suffering. He preferred young men. Beautiful young men in frocks. He was an established purveyor of sissyland and a good at what he did. Some of his models were swishing around in high-class fashion, while others posed in the almost obligatory fluffy little-girl outfits so beloved by enthusiasts of the sissy theme.

When she looked up it appeared to be nursery time. Monty's chosen outfits for Bambi and Amanda consisted of little pink shifts with short puffy sleeves that had flowers embroidered on the bodice. The drape of the little dresses was so short in barely covered their scallop-trimmed rumba panties, while on their heads had been placed snug fitting baby-bonnets with pretty scallop trim and which had tapes to tie under their chins.

As an added touch of stimulus a big, pink plastic baby-pacifier on a string had been looped about their necks. Bambi was holding a plastic baby-rattle that had the appearance of a pair of testicles on a stick, while Amanda was gripping an oversized infant-feed bottle that had a rubber teat moulded in the shape of a man's penis.

"That's more like it," Monty murmured, stepping back. "Very nice."

"Coochy-coochy, gaa-gaa-goo. Who's li'l babies then? So smooth and sweet. Yee-eess!" teased acne-face mercilessly, taking his revenge for being spurned earlier.

"Cut-out the claptrap, Herbert." Monty snapped at his assistant.

Ha! So spotty-face had a name, noted Jennifer. He was a Herbert. She wished this Herbert would vaporise, instead the bastard continued watching, looking at each of the sissies in turn, grinning like an imbecile.

"We're not really babies." Bambi protested.

"Course you ain't." blustered Monty, "But when I start with the camera I'll want you to act like babies. Sit together on the duvets now, hold hands and look helpless. And let's have you suckin' on them dummies."

The guard-disc on the pacifiers obscured half their faces, their small noses just about managed to show, and their eyes looked bright and beguiling under the hoods of the bonnets. Sliding easily into the role they had been given Bambi and Amanda rolled onto their backs, gurgling and squirming, knees pointed up and swing outward so the camera could get a good angle on their lace-trimmed panties. Thoroughly babyfied they even seemed to enjoy having a dummy-teat to suck on, and became occupied making busy, wet noises. Monty thought it a shame he couldn't capture the sound on film.

Jennifer passed time by flipping through some more of Monty's previous work. There was lots of other stuff. Semi-naked and nude studies. Young men wearing nothing but make-up and a smile, moist lips and come-to-bed-eyes, posing and reclining in various come-and-get-me attitudes, most of them sporting full erections. Two breathless looking individuals, hair in sausage-roll ringlets and wearing nothing but court shoes, were facing each other and comparing their substantial erections, both of which were distended and upright and featuring commendable moist, mushroom-shaped heads.

She studied the photo's for several minutes, absorbed by them, and an even darker side of things emerged. Other work showed strict fetish control and female domination. There was a series of several young effeminates wearing nothing but ball-gags and cock-and-ball harness, an item she was not unfamiliar with. Commonly called an Arab-strap, it consisted of linked rings - plastic, metal, sometimes just leather - worn around the base of cock and balls to restrict blood flow from an engorged penis. Sometimes it even successfully maintained an erection beyond ejaculation. In this case there was no indication of whether it was a before or after sequence, but everything there was upstanding magnificently.

The models were also wearing black leather slave-collars with studs and chrome buckles, which signified the role they were playing. They were all being sternly lectured by a very imposing young woman wearing a black mortarboard cap of the kind that was once the hallmark of schoolteachers. A long black gown was draped over her shoulders and under it she wore nothing but a skimpy black two-piece bikini. Posing in a matriarchal stance, in her hand she was wielding a school cane.

Trying not to show any alarm she caught the photographers attention whilst he was adjusting some of his equipment. "I believe my mother will have outlined the restrictions on photography here today. No pictures of sexual arousal. Nothing too indecent. Glamour studies are acceptable but she won't tolerate any disgusting antics being recorded. Okay?"

"Yes, I remember she mentioned that." snarled Monty with some annoyance. "But she ain't asked to see any of the prints, so we could..."

Jennifer cut him short. "That's the reason I'm here Mr Montague - to make sure you don't cheat."

Monty paused a moment longer and studied her face closely, "You know, you're a good looker. I wouldn't mind photographing you without your knickers while you frolicked with these two creampuffs."

Her head snapped up and she gazed at him, achromatic and deadpan. "Fuck off."

The edge was taken off proceedings when Gloria opened the door. Jennifer turned towards her "What is it, Gloria?"

"Somebody's at the downstairs trade-door." she replied.

"Who is it?"

"A plumber. Sez he's here to fix the sink." was the less than lively response.

With a sigh Jennifer pushed herself from her chair and made for the door, and as soon as she'd disappeared through it the photographer's face broke into a leering grin as he took renewed interest in his models. "Okay you two sweeties. Shall we get on with it? Let me see some pricks."

It occurred to him they may refuse, they may feel some sense of shame at doing what he asked. But he was wrong, they showed no alarm. The duo returned his stare fearlessly from beneath their lashes and were neither coy, nor coquettish. Chins tilted down, and giving the camera the cheekiest of smiles Bambi and Amanda bent forward and pushed down their rumba pants to mid thigh, each exposing his penis and his testicles, proud of themselves.

In unconscious unity the shameless creatures offered a wan smile and stroked their hands over their bellies as they displayed themselves. Nice cocks, passive white dangles with a slight indication of a cock-head bulging through a film of foreskin, all of which lay cushioned on the pale pink bags of their scrotums. Dressed in pink. Cute little baby girls with balls that looked full and heavy.

Monty's camera went click, whrrr several times as he moved around to get shots from different angles. Bambi cupped his balls with his free hand and responded by pushing the hood forward and then skinning his prick back even further, which allowed them to get a peep at the shallow groove under the swollen pink gland.

"Sweet, huh?" remarked pimply Herbert.

Monty agreed. "Nice. Now I want to see you both with a stiffy." he told the models.

The two sissies looked at each other and then back at the photographer. "I don't think we're allowed to do that."

"Nonsense. I'm paying Miss Hancock for your time this afternoon, so you have to do as I want. You know what to do. You take your cock in your hand and you pull it. Get started."

The youth called Herbert leered unapologetically while they jiggled themselves. "Do you chicks want any help? I can lend a hand if you like."

"Keep out o' this." snapped Monty peevishly.

Hands took hold and fingers got to work, and as blood rose up to engorge the spongy tissue of each male appendage they quickly became stiffer, thicker and more extended until they presented four inches of stiff flesh enraptured with girlitude.

With a full erection Amanda skinned his foreskin back slowly and felt the nerve endings spread as the bald tip rolled into sight, then he eased it back to rest just below the delicate ridge. By his side Bambi rubbed his own truncheon just as carefully, sliding the loose hood forward with his right hand and rolled it sideways over the head, then having found the hot spot that always suited him best he started yanking it quickly with his thumb. Since he didn't have any choice in things he set about indulging himself with intense concentration.

Click, whrrr went Monty's camera. "Oh yes. Look at that. Not such babies after all, are they?" he said has he watched each sissy continue to tease the sheath of skin back and forth over the shiny plum of his knob.

"Nice. So much better than when they're droopy." Herbert said while scrutinising the teardrop shaped flare of the exposed pee-holes and noticing they was beginning to leak stuff.

Monty grinned crookedly. "Quite a pair. Quite a handful. Very commendable. They're real cock candy, and since that fag-hag ain't here now we can try something else."

"Swing round and face each other, darlin's. Nudge those juicy tips together." he told the girly-boys. Click, whrrr. "Keep those hands pumping. Let's see some nice dribble coming out from those fine specimens."

"Do it for each other for a minute. That's it. Good fun, ain't it? But don't peak yet, I've lots of other stuff to do before you enjoy a jolly. Stick out yer tongues an' slither 'em together. Give 'em a nice licking." And then. "Turn around and let me see what you look like at the back. Frocks up and heads down. Show me some arse."

Feeling hot and horny Amanda and Bambi were at his command, and at the man's insistence they turned away from him, got down on all-fours then pushed their faces to the floor, revealing bare bottoms the colour of cream. Monty savoured the texture of each milky mound. "Now the cheeks. Spread 'em. Hold them arses open wide. Open your legs and shove your bottoms up. Let's see some shagability."

The two young men complied, pushing their backsides up and splaying their thighs and showing their balls, which were hanging heavy like plums in bags between their legs.

"A-fuckin-mazin'." Herbert murmured with approval.

Monty's eyes glowered like those of a hunger hawk and he licked his lips as if actually tasting the savoury view. "Yes, lovely. Blemishless - so soft. I'll use the hand camera to do a few close-up anus shots."

Downstairs a stranger stood at the side entrance to the house awaiting permission to enter. He was twenty-something, clean-shaven and square-jawed, lean of body and sheathed in an open-necked shirt and crotch-hugging denim jeans. In his right hand he gripped the handle of a canvas tool bag.

"Hi!" said Jennifer, greeting him with what she hoped was a pleasant smile. He smiled back, showing a first-class set of teeth. He was even more compelling close up; broad shoulders and low-hipped tight jeans that bagged over blue trainers. He had olive tan hands with long fingers and smooth clean nails, and she had a vision of small wood-brown nipples on a hairless chest. His hair was dark brown like his eyes and was slightly mussed, as if he'd not long rolled out of someone's bed.

"Hi ya'self, I'm Reg. I've had a call about a blocked drain here."

Jennifer's brow furrowed. The man was a plumber. She'd been told nothing of a workman coming and Hardwick usually took care of blocked drains. She glanced behind and saw Poppy, like an inquisitive squirrel with his head poking around the kitchen door. "Do we have a blocked drain?" she asked him.

Poppy swung out from the kitchen, smiling sweetly. He was wearing what looked like an inch of eyeliner, a silver lurex crop-top and a black miniskirt that barely covered his pants. The crop-top displayed a large pink love-heart surrounded by the motto 'I'm The Girl Your Mother Warned You About.'

"A blocked drain? Erm - yes Jennifer. In the kitchen. I keep having to use the sucky-thing on a stick to empty the sink." he stood inches away from the plumber, rooted to the spot and shamelessly fawning over him. "Wow!" he uttered, and he wasn't referring to the tool bag in the man's hand.

"Probably just something choking the U-bend on the waste pipe," nodded Reg cheerfully. "I'll soon have that sorted."

Jennifer sighed. "You must excuse me for seeming ignorant, but I'm not told of half the things that are arranged around here. You'd better go through to the back."

Reg stepped in and politely wiped his feet on the doormat. "Could someone show me where the stop-valve is in case I need to turn off the mains water supply?"

He was tall and he had his sleeves rolled up and Poppy was captivated by his muscular arms. "I know where the tappy-thing is. I'll show you." he offered with childlike enthusiasm. "And I'll make you some tea. You're a big man so I'll make you a big mug of tea.

Believing himself to be the focal point of a pretty girls attention the plumber gave him a warm smile. "What kind of tea? English breakfast, Earl Grey, China or camomile?

Poppy grinned. "Builders tea. Strong, with a dash of milk and two sugars."

"You're a very kind young lady."

"It's no trouble." chirped the girly-boy, "We like to please people in this house."

Seeking a diversion for a few minutes from the tiresome business upstairs Jennifer went into her mother's study and opened the morning mail. Most of it was of no interest, just advertising circulars and utility bills, but one envelope distinguished itself from the others by its sheer quality. Another of her mother's schemes for increasing income had been to find placements for some of her students as quickly as possible, and a good deal of mail had been sent out to people she had cultivated as possible clients. The envelope contained a handwritten note on headed paper from the Marchioness of Wiggleswick expressing the kind of interest that was bound to please her mother.

On the way out she glimpsed Gloria slumped in an armchair in her private little hideaway, completely engrossed in a children's programme on the television. She had a flash of guilt as she hurried back up the stairs, not about what she'd just done, but about what she should have been doing. Her mother had charged her with monitoring the conduct of those ghastly photographers, and despite the care she had taken herself earlier she hadn't even asked Gloria to stand in for her.

Suddenly she felt uneasy, and she had a right to be suspicious, because her worse nightmare seemed to be realised. Certain noises were apparent even on the landing; urgent and rapacious gasping and gurgling. Animal panting. Breathless throaty cries. The gruff pig-like grunts of men, the slap of flesh on flesh, and the little 'oohs' and 'aahs' of sissies.

On reaching the room she had provided she turned the handle slowly so the door opened without noise. She only opened it a crack, but through the narrow aperture she could see everything clearly. The room was quite gloomy with the windows covered, but she could easily make out the huddle of bodies on the duvets spread on the floor. No one needed to paint a picture for her to know what was happening. Bambi and Amanda were kneeling on the duvets, heads down and supporting themselves on their elbows while pushing up their defenceless, shapely backsides. The two men were crouched behind them, trouserless, gripping their hips and forcing them to be still while they humped back and forth like a pair of mechanical jackhammers.

White buttocks, white legs. Bodies surging and ebbing. Two tender sissy-loveholes each being speared by thick wedges of gristle-like sinew that were moving briskly, each going further and deeper on a velvet journey.

Bambi threw back his head, moaning deep in his throat, eyes closed, gasping and panting as pimply Herbert rutted with him. Monty, crouched beside his assistant was linked to Amanda by a penis embedded deep in his anus. With his balls pressed against him he held him still, letting him get used to being stuffed full of man cock, slowly withdrawing a couple of inches before sliding back again. He repeated it a few times and then began to quicken the pace. Amanda took it with a look of shock and a tiny squeak of anguish, whimpering softly as the pulsating flesh made him accept its girth.

"What would yer missus say if she could see you now, up to yer balls in arse?" Herbert asked his boss.

"I shudder to think," replied Monty spitting between clenched teeth, "But they're too good to miss. They shag like bunny rabbits, don't they? Ooh, ugh. So smooth. They make me huge, bigger than I've been with her for years."

Both men laughed. They made a badly balanced pair, each rather worn in their own way. But while Monty was coarse and arrogant Herbert was younger and liked to put himself about as a man for the girls, although he never refused a nice bit of youthful rump when it was available.

There was nothing refined about the coupling, it was masters remorselessly providing and slaves submissively receiving. The pantywaists rotated their haunches in rhythm with the movements and began uttering a constant groan, and as their cries increased in pitch so the men increased the speed of their pumping.

Jennifer remained outside on the landing and softly closed the door. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, and since the men were on the colloquial vinegar stretch and nearly finished there was no reason to cause an upset. Her only concern was that her mother would discover that her trusted daughter had not made proper provision to protect her darlings from Outsiders. She would be furious. Still, what could be the most serious thing that could happen? As Tweedledee once said to Alice - the most serious thing would be to get one's head cut off.

She left them to finish what they were doing and went down the stairs again, and with nothing better to do she decided to check how the plumber was getting on. A curtain had been drawn halfway across the entrance to the kitchen so she contented herself by peering through the open portion. Most of Reg, the top of him anyway, was out of sight, wedged inside the small cupboard under the sink where the waste water pipe was concealed. The bottom half of him was kneeling on the floor, buttocks riding high. It was an undignified pose but not one that was unusual for a plumber, except that Reg's jeans had been neatly peeled down to his thighs and his bare rump was completely exposed.

Poppy was attending to the visitor in a not unusual way for himself. He'd got down on the floor and had hauled the man's penis backwards between his legs in order to pump it with a full-handed grip. The broad tip clenched between his fingers was drizzling a strand of opaque icor that swung like a pendulum as he pushed and pulled.

With his head buried inside the cupboard Reg was partially out of eyesight but not at all out of earshot. He was gasping and gurgling in sublime helplessness, convinced he was being aggressively hand-jobbed by a pretty girl.

As she watched Poppy inclined his head, his playful smile defined by the corners of his mouth. Amusement never left his lips. Sex, any kind of sex was his forte - he loved it. Lots of it. Mainly these days with dewy young deliverymen who came to the door of the kitchen. There was nothing terrible about it, thought Jennifer, it was a harmless hobby and probably made a nice change to scrubbing pots and pans, even if they were Outsiders.

Poor Reg, she thought. He'd probably never encountered anyone who lacked sexual inhibition to the extent that Poppy did. With his head beneath the sink he would have been shocked to feel strange hands attacking his waist belt, but he would have accepted it. He may have been alarmed at the first touches, but although strong in body his will was undoubtedly weak. Men melted under Poppy's attention. There would be few in the world who could resist his charms, or his ministrations.