Beyond Sissy's Spa Day Ch. 01

She is a girl... No, I take that back. She is a woman. That much had been made abundantly clear.

I had met her through the course of my employment, rather by chance. My job places me in the public eye to a small degree and, on occasion, there are functions where co-workers and I interact with the public. We chat with people all the time and usually, it is nothing more than small talk. When it's over, it's over. But this was different.

She approached me and wanted to talk. At first, it was businesslike, nothing more, but I recognized immediately that something was different. She had a certain quality, a confidence that I had never quite encountered before. Despite being much, much younger than me, she was so sure of herself, so self-assured. Honestly, I somehow felt intimidated from the very beginning. I guess my intuition was on to something.

We talked for much longer than I usually spent with anyone in particular at these functions. In fact, we all but closed down the place, as workers had begun to clean up. She looked me directly in the eyes and said "Meet me in 10 minutes at Starbucks -- the one by the theater. And don't be late." I knew the coffee house well. It was about four blocks away. But what was she talking about? I had been planning to go home. But she didn't ask. She told me. And then she immediately turned and was on her way. I couldn't help but stare. Did I not mention that she is gorgeous? I watched her tight little ass as she walked. My God! She was probably about 5-foot-6, brunette, with radiant brown eyes. She was pretty much the girl -- no, woman -- of all my sexual fantasies. She didn't have huge breasts, but definitely good-sized, and oh, so perky! But that butt. I couldn't help imagining my face buried between her ass cheeks.

Right then, my boss, a very good-looking woman in her own right, albeit closer to my own age, snapped me to attention. "What are you watching so intently?" my boss, Katherine, asked, as if she didn't know. "Oh, um, I was... I guess I spaced out," I stammered. "No shit," Katherine replied, very clearly perturbed. "She's not even half your age, asshole. You should be ashamed. If I ever catch you looking at any woman like that again, I'll fire your ass quicker than it takes you to jerk off your pathetic little cock!"

I couldn't believe that Katherine had spoken to me in such a way, even given my indiscretion. But she was right. I was ashamed. I had to admit it. What the hell was I thinking? But then I realized that I had only a few minutes to get to Starbucks. Wait, was I actually going to go? Should I? Should I just say the hell with it, and go home? I made a beeline for the parking garage, got to my car as quickly as possible and drove the short distance to the coffee house by the theater. I jumped out and walked hurriedly. She was sitting outside, at one of the outdoor tables. It was a pleasant fall evening, after all. There were two other couples sitting in the area. Well, they appeared to be couples. We certainly weren't.

"Sit down," she said firmly. I pulled out the chair across from her and started to sink into it.

"No, here, by me," she said, motioning to the chair to her immediate left. I complied. I'm not even sure why. It's just that the way she said things, her manner, seemingly left no choice.

She reached into her purse and pulled out a pair of pink thong panties, holding them up as if to display them. From where I was seated, I was facing a woman and a man, one from each of the couples that were sipping and chatting nearby. The panties quickly got both of their attention. The man, younger than me and very athletic-looking, got a shit-eating grin on his face. The woman, probably halfway between my age and that of my female companion, appeared startled at first, but then seemed quite interested.

At this point, the young woman next to me twirled the pink thong panties around in her fingers and spoke in a firm voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Take these to the men's room," she said. "Put them on. And bring me whatever underwear you have on now."

At this point, the other two members of the couples near us had turned to look. All four of them had heard the words, and saw my face. I was in downright panic mode.

It wasn't the thought of putting on the panties that had me so frightened. It was the fact that I was already wearing panties! I almost always wore panties. I loved the way they felt, the way they caressed my "manhood." The truth was that I hadn't had sex, other than plenty of masturbation sessions, in many years. Wearing women's panties was as close to pussy as I ever got. But no one knew I wore panties! If I did as I was told, my secret would be out for sure!

The other men and women seated nearby stared at me with looks ranging from surprise to amusement. I was frozen in place.

"Hurry up, Panty Boy," my tablemate commanded, pressing the pink thong into my right hand with her left. "I don't have all night."

I could hear a good deal of chuckling from the other two tables as I started to rise out of my seat. What the hell was going on here? I stuffed the pink thong panties into my front pants pocket and headed for the men's room, inside the coffee shop. I knew there was an exit on the other side of the building. Maybe I could make a run for it, although my car was on this side, in plain sight. Whatever. I didn't have to get my car. I could walk back to my office from here and call a cab, maybe escape with my dignity -- or what was left of it.

I entered the Starbucks and quickly faced the moment of truth, Left, toward the exit? Or right, toward the men's room? I chose the latter. I opened the restroom door and was relieved that no one else was inside. I quickly entered a handicapped stall -- more room to move around, you know? I thought for a second or two about the situation I was in, and really couldn't comprehend it.

Just then, I heard the door to the men's room open.

"Your date says to hurry the fuck up, Sissy Boy," boomed a male voice. I could only assume it was one of the men who had been seated near us. Then I heard the door close as he apparently exited the men's room.

I took off my shoes, and then my pants. I was wearing black, lace panties that left little to the imagination. I loved the way they looked on me, but that wasn't the point right now. I slipped them off and hung them over a hook on the back of the door. I reached into my pants pocket and retrieved the pink thong. It was sexy, I had to admit. I slid it up my legs and into place as best I could. There wasn't much room for my, um, you-know, but I did the best I could. I had worn thongs before, of course, so I knew the familiar feeling in the crack of my ass. Ordinarily, I loved that feeling, but now it only added to my fear. I quickly put on my pants, and then my shoes. I was just about ready to open the door of the stall when I remembered my black panties hanging from the hook. That would have been great, to forget those, I thought. I stuffed them as far into my pants pocket as I could and moved into the main part of the restroom, in front of the mirror. I looked at myself and realized I was quite a shade of red. I quickly splashed some water on my face and tried to regain some semblance of composure. I'm not sure I succeeded at all.

Trying not to even think, I exited the restroom and walked out the door to the patio area. At my table, our table, she was sitting rather impatiently. The other two couples quickly ceased their respective conversations and were now watching me intently. I sat back down, where I had been before, feeling the thong ride up my ass as the front of the panties struggled to hold my male bits.

"So?" she asked, holding out her hand.

Momentarily confused, I just sat there like an idiot.

"Let's have them," she said. "Let me see what had been where that cute little girlie thong is now."

Reluctantly, feeling five sets of eyes on me, I reached into my pants pocket, tried to wrap my fist around my own black panties to obscure them, and handed them over.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed, holding my panties out for all to see. "I knew you were a fucking slut! Black lace, see-through panties! Are you proud of yourself?"

I just sat there, petrified. The other two couples were laughing and giggling. But not her. Sitting right next to me, she wasn't smiling at all.

"I asked you a fucking question, whore!" she barked.

"Um, no, I wouldn't say I'm proud of myself. No. Not at all. I am... I'm... I'm not sure what I am. Why are you doing this to me?"

She laughed. Now it was the other four people in the area who were quiet, as if not knowing what to make of things.

"I'm not doing it TO you," she said, rather sweetly. "I'm doing it FOR you. I could tell from about two minutes into our conversation tonight that you are a sissy, a panty-wearing slut who is just dying to have a hot, dominant woman take control of you. And you've proved it a hundred times over. Your life just changed forever, Sissy Boy."

I was in something resembling a state of shock. The couples at the other two tables appeared to be, as well. Just then, she spoke to them.

"Look, I hope you all enjoyed this little show, but I'm afraid that's the end of it. Ladies, take your men home and relive this any way you like. I can tell you that by watching both of them tonight, they probably wouldn't mind being treated something along the lines of my little sissy here. Take them home, talk to them about it if you want, or just take control. My guess is they would both love to have some nice big girl-cock shoved up their tight, little asses."

Then she looked at me, handed me my black lace panties and told me to put them back in my pocket.

"Come on, Sissy. We're leaving," she said.

We got up, she took my hand and forcibly led me to my car.

"Give me the keys," she said. "Get in the passenger seat."

I did. She sat down behind the wheel and began to drive. For quite some time, there was nothing but silence. Finally, she spoke.

"This is the best night of your life, isn't it, Bitch?"

I didn't know what to say.

"Answer me, Cunt!" she roared.

"Um, I don't know," I began. "I don't know what's happening. Where are you taking me?"

She just laughed, and kept driving. She was a damn-good driver, if seemingly a bit reckless. She took curves like nobody's business, and seemed to enjoy my concern.

Pretty soon, she screeched to a stop in front of a high-rise apartment complex.

"Take off your clothes," she ordered. "Everything but the thong."

"Are you serious?" I asked. "I can't..."

"Oh yes you can. And you will," she said. "From now on you will do exactly as I say. Everything I say, Pussy Boy. Without hesitation. Or else!"

It was almost as if I was in a trance. I knew I shouldn't. I mean, we were on a busy street, near the middle of a good-sized city, with plenty of light all around. It was dark enough inside the car, but still... I pulled off my shirt, kicked off my shoes and socks, and slithered out of my pants, leaving me clad only in the skimpy pink thong. She removed everything from my pants pockets -- my wallet, cell phone, comb, some loose change, and placed them all in the center console. She pulled a large plastic bag from her purse and placed my clothing inside it. Then she handed me a piece of paper with a phone number on it, and got out of the car, taking the bag of my clothes with her. Leaning in the window, showing off her ample cleavage, she told me to slide over into the driver's seat. I did, moving ever closer to her gorgeous breasts.

"Do you like my tits?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," I said. "Very much."

She cooed.

"OK, Sissy, time for you to get home. Call me as soon as you get home. And I mean as soon as you get home. Ask for Mistress Monica."

With that, she was gone. And there I sat, wearing only a pink thong, sitting in my car on a busy street, scared to death. I just hoped to God that I could drive home without being pulled over by the police, or getting into an accident, or...

I lived nearly all the way across town. It was at least a 20-minute drive. And, somehow, I would have to get from my car into my own apartment. Christ, I could get arrested for indecent exposure. I drove. I found myself racing, and knew I had better slow down. It was an agonizing drive, with me constantly checking the rear-view mirrors. At one red light, a woman on my left noticed that I was topless. She winked. Jesus. Thank God she couldn't see what was, or wasn't, below.

I made it home, somehow. Fortunately, I didn't see anyone outside my apartment complex. I had a blanket in the trunk of my car. The question was whether I should take the time to get into the trunk. Fuck it, I thought. I got out of the car, closed the door gently, and raced to my apartment. I don't think anyone saw me. I hope no one saw me.

Then I realized that I had left my phone, wallet and everything else in the car. I quickly ran to the bedroom, threw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and went outside to retrieve them. It was at this time that I saw my neighbor from two doors down, Missy, coming around the corner. She was alone -- no sign of her husband Tony.

"Hey," Missy said. "What's up?"

"Nothing. Just forgot some things in my car," I said.

"Like your outfit," she said. "Of course, I liked the other one better."

Fuck me! She had obviously seen me.

"Um, yeah, well," I stammered. "Sorry about that."

"Oh, I didn't mind," she said, and playfully slapped my ass. "Looked like you were a little chilly, though."

Missy's husband, Tony, was a stud. I'd seen him in swim trunks at the pool. It was obvious that he was very well-endowed. I had fantasized about seeing him fuck Missy, about watching her take his big cock. I had wondered if she could possibly fit the whole thing in her mouth -- or her pussy. I knew my average-at-best-sized member was no comparison.

As Missy entered her apartment, I retrieved my things and went back inside. Knowing I had probably already taken too long, I quickly called the number that Monica had given me.

Trying to slow my heart rate and stop sweating, I prepared for her to answer.

"Hello," came the soft, sweet response on the other end of the line.

Remembering that she had told me to ask for her, I said "Hello, may I please speak to Mistress Monica?"

"Took you long enough," she said.

"I apologize," I responded. "I had a bit of a, um, situation. I ran into one of my neighbors and it took a bit of time."

"Did she see your thong?" Mistress Monica asked.

Wait, how did she know that my neighbor had been a woman? She just knew. She seemed to know everything.

I explained the whole thing, how I had gotten into my apartment, put on shorts and a T-shirt, but that Missy had apparently seen me beforehand. So yes, she had seen the thong.

"Whatever," Mistress Monica said. "Doesn't really matter. Tomorrow, I have booked an 11 o'clock appointment for you at a spa. It's in the strip mall behind my apartment complex. Ask for Tess. She knows what to do."

Tomorrow was Saturday. I didn't have to work. But I did have plans. I was supposed to go to the track with a couple of buddies. Just as this was running through my mind, I realized there was no point in even mentioning it.

"Yes, Mistress Monica," I said.

"Good slut," she responded. "Oh, and be sure to shower, shower really well, before you go. It's important."

"OK," I said. "Is that all?"

"For now, Pussy Boy," Mistress Monica said. "Oh, and one other thing. Absolutely, positively no jerking off tonight or tomorrow before your treatment. I don't care how much you are fantasizing about me, about my tits and about my ass. No playing with yourself. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress Monica," I said. "Although that is not going to be easy."

"I'm sure it will be quite HARD," she said, laughing. And then she hung up.

What the hell had I gotten myself into? Who was this woman? And what was she doing to me? I felt powerless, absolutely powerless. And my rock-hard cock had busted out of the thong and was threatening to rip a hole in my gym shorts.

Fortunately, it was late, and time to get to sleep, if I possibly could. I stripped, carefully removing the pink thong and hanging it on a lampshade by my bedside. Knowing it would be impossible to get to sleep in my current level of arousal, I jumped into a cold shower and calmed down -- some.

I put on a pair of tightie-whities to try to contain my horniness and crawled into bed. I played the night over in my mind. How in the hell? Who IS this woman? She can't be even 30, I thought. Probably mid-20s. What gave her the right? And what was this appointment tomorrow? At a spa? I had never been to a spa in my life.

Eventually, sleep came. I woke up once in the middle of the night, with a raging hard-on, took a piss, and fortunately was able to get back to sleep in not too long a time. I had set my alarm for 9. Wanted to make sure I had plenty of time to grab some breakfast and shower -- really well, at Mistress Monica's instruction.

I left home about 10:15. I didn't want to be late. I pulled into the strip mall about 10:35. At first, I didn't see a spa, but after driving around for a bit, I saw it tucked back in a corner, between a dry cleaner and a women's gym. "Tease and Please Spa," read the sign out front.

I parked my car and walked inside. A somewhat heavy-set woman with very large breasts looked up from the desk and asked if she could help me. She seemed to have a glimmer in her eye.

"I'm here to see Tess," I said. "I have an 11 o'clock appointment."

"OK," the woman said, handing me a clipboard with some paperwork attached. "Have a seat and fill these out. Tess should be free shortly."

Most of the paperwork was routine -- name, address, employer, that kind of thing. But the last page was a sexual-behavior agreement. The gist of it was that there were to be no sexual advances or innuendo whatsoever. Having never been to such an establishment, I was somewhat taken aback, but figured it must be standard operating procedure. I completed the paperwork and returned it to the woman at the desk. I noticed that her nametag, sitting on her left breast, said "Betty."

Without a word, Betty took the clipboard, glanced through the papers briefly, and placed it in a slot to the right of her desk. I sat in the waiting area. No one else was there.

Several minutes passed. I glanced at my phone and saw that it was 11:15. Well, I was on time, I thought. Finally, a door opened and a shapely blonde appeared.

"Dan," she called, looking right at me.

"Yes," I said, getting to my feet. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine," she smiled. "It's you I'm concerned about. First door on your right."

As I entered the relatively small room, I saw what appeared to be a massage table in the middle and a couple of chairs on the right. The blonde closed the door behind her.

"I'm Tess," she said.

"It's nice to meet you," I replied.

"Yes, so Monica made this appointment for you. Do you have any idea what it's for?"

"No, I really don't," I said.

"That figures," Tess said, smiling. "Monica has booked you for a full Brazilian wax -- ass, too. So strip."

"I beg your pardon," I said. "I didn't know..."

"I know you didn't know," Tess said, impatiently. "That's why I just told you. Now get your clothes off. There is no need for modesty here. Besides, from what I gather, I don't believe you have anything to be particularly proud of."

It was true, of course, but how did this woman know that? I mean, Mistress Monica had seen me in the thong, but...

Slowly, I began to undress while Tess prepared the wax with her back to me. She was wearing something like a nurse's outfit, but I couldn't help but notice her nice ass and well-rounded breasts. I guess this is where the sexual-behavior document enters the equation, I thought.