Comfort Women Ch. 03

Wendy was quite the accomplished hairdresser; she had learned the skill styling wigs and cutting hair on ships she had served on. Sam was quite taken with the pixie cut; if anything it made her look younger and emphasised her cheekbones and luscious red lips. Wendy dropped Sam off at her house and left her to her own devices.

Sam wasn't sure how she felt about Wendy; she was a little too accepting of the circumstances and had certainly been a willing participant in the incident in the alley. Was she complicit? Had she helped Bill Brody put this scheme together or had she suggested it to him?

Sam unwrapped her packages and put her new clothes away. Sorting out all the cosmetics and laying them out on her vanity took a little while and when she had finished she admitted to herself that she quite liked doing so. Seeing all the little jars, tubes and palettes lined up under the mirror was comforting but it was also a little final. Bringing the cosmetics and clothes to her house and styling her hair meant that she was committed to living as a woman. There was sense of certainty and excitement but also dread.

She took a nap and arose with plenty of time to get ready for the evening. After showering she appraised herself in the mirror. She was petite and lithe but curvy, with a flat stomach and long legs. Her alabaster skin was unblemished and smooth. She didn't mind that she was small-chested; her body was still feminine. Sam had been teased during basic for being so small and having a girly body and the medical corps had been a safe haven.

That was until two Airmen threatened to beat Samuel and bugger him unless he stole drugs for them. Once he had committed the first offence he had no choice but to keep stealing and when he was caught he refused to tell the investigators who he was supplying the drugs to. The Airmen had told Sam that no matter where they sent Sam they had friends who would find him and carry out the threats on their behalf.

During incarceration Sam had seen plenty of men taken against their will; some forced to be 'prison wives'. Tiny effeminate men like herself were grist for the mill in the prison system. Only because his skills were invaluable had Sam escaped by working and living in the infirmary.

Now the wheel had turned. Sam was a prison wife for all intents and purposes. Forced to feminise herself and gratify the lust of desperate men. And what of Bill Brody? He had taken her for himself, made her off limits to the others. He had made his intent clear by what he had done to her in his office but she'd sensed a little reluctance at first. Maybe she could tame the savage beast?

Sam tucked her penis and scrotum between her legs and closed them and posed in the mirror. Except for being flat-chested she could easily pass for a woman... a very pretty woman.

Sam put on her makeup carefully, taking her time and making a few mistakes with her eyeliner but when she'd finished she was happy with the result. It was amazing what cosmetics did to her face. Her face was delicate anyway but with the application of lipstick, foundation, powder, mascara, eyeliner and rouge it became exotic and sensual, her emerald-green eyes twinkled.

She opened the wardrobe and surveyed the clothing she had taken from department store. Where had her sense of style and appreciation of fashion come from? Sam had always admired women who dressed well but had never been tempted to don the garments himself or had she? Sam recalled playing dressup with her big sister when they were young and Sam's father finding them and giving them a spanking.

The recollection was vivid and Sam's sore buttocks reminded her that someone else very close to her was not averse to using the belt. She had put some lotion on her bottom and it had eased the pain but it was still a little sore. Not a burning pain, just a continual reminder that she had been naughty.

"You naughty girl," Sam said into the mirror on the wardrobe door and then blushed with embarrassment.

Once again the sensation was indescribably delicious as she rolled her stockings up her legs and clipped them to the garters. She smoothed them and straightened the seams and marvelled that wearing such a garment could bring her so much joy. This included the delight she felt as she slipped her panties up her legs and pulled them tight around her buttocks, carefully tucking away her privates just as Wendy had trained her to do. They were red satin with black lace trim.

Sam put on the bra; it was the smallest cup in the store. Wendy had advised her to get C-cups and pad them out but Sam had decided that she would present herself as authentically as possible and decided not to pad her bra. She put on a white silk blouse and stepped into a red circle-skirt and admired the result in the mirror. She had tried on the skirt in the store but it looked even better now. She accessorised with a matching necklace and clip-on earrings made of white gold and faux rubies. She stepped into her red high heels and admired the result.

She looked less formal than she did in the severe skirt-suit she had been wearing, more bright and cheerful but still beautiful. She sprayed herself liberally with perfume just as she heard her front door open and the sound of boots on her kitchen floor.

"It's polite to knock and wait," Sam said to Bill Brody who was in the kitchen pouring a drink from a bottle he had brought with him.

"Want one?" Bill waved the bottle at her.

"There is to be alcohol allowed outside of the prescribed opening hours of the Copperlode bar," Sam quoted one of Bill's many rules back at him.

"I'm the boss so I'll give you a dispensation," he said handing her a glass of whisky, a cheeky grin on his face.

His fingers lingered on hers when she took it.

"You look very nice; very pretty Sam," Bill raised his glass and took a sip.

Sam accepted the compliment but she was still a little trepidatious being alone with Bill in her home; it was very intimate and to be honest, a little weird.

Bill stepped in close and took Sam's drink from her and put it down. He gazed into her eyes and studied her face. He was conflicted because he knew that under that womanly countenance lived Samuel Steele but Bill saw no sign of him. He saw only Samantha and that was good. He was infatuated with Samantha and Samuel had disappeared off the face of the earth.

That was the real reason he had directed that: henceforth Airman Samantha Steele and Petty Officer Wendy Meakins will present themselves as women. He could give two shits about the other men's morale; he wanted Sam all to himself but couldn't live with the guilt and conflict if he kept seeing Samuel around Villawood. Samuel needed to be banished.

"It's customary for a man's woman to greet him with a kiss," Bill whispered.

"So I'm your woman now?" Sam searched his ice-blue eyes.

There was no doubt that Sam William Brody was a good looking man. He kept himself in good shape and he was tanned, lean and rangy, his teeth white, his breath was fresh and his sandy hair cut short in a military crew cut. Her alter ego would never consider a man as handsome, but Samantha's brain didn't seem to work the same as Samuel's. She actually thought like a woman.

"You're my comfort woman and I want comfort," Bill pulled Sam into his arms and kissed her.

It wasn't the same as with Victor. Bill kissed her softly; he held her close but he wasn't stifling. Sam's arms remained by her sides and her lips remained firmly shut. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know that she felt perfectly content in his embrace. She recalled Bill's conversation with her in the Copperlode: telling her that she thought she was hot shit, telling she was dressed like a floozy, taunting her about putting the episode in her diary (which she had by the way) and of course there was this morning's spanking.

Bill was persistent but still tender with her, his kisses remained soft and gentle and it was hard to deny him. Sam was really enjoying being held by him, feeling the rasp of his 5 o'clock shadow on her cheeks, smelling his cologne, feeling his taunt body against her slender self, and those soft lips were delicious.

Bill broke the kiss and Sam was sad that he had done so.

"You really are a beautiful woman," Bill sighed.

He pulled her tight and kissed her harder, more instant, pressing his tongue against her mouth.

There was the Bill she expected! The one who demanded what he wanted and expected to get it. But wasn't she also a little delighted by that? That he wanted her so bad he was prepared to take what he wanted. Wasn't that a little exciting? Should she be flattered? Should she berate herself for liking it? Should she berate herself for the feelings of femininity and also the feelings of power his lust for her illicited?

Bill leaned into Sam and she involuntarily put her arms around him to stay on her feet. It was instinct right? She was still getting used to wearing high heels right?

Then why was she pressing her lips against his and opening her mouth for him? Why did she greet his tongue when it slipped into her mouth with her own? Why did the taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of his body make her feel a little giddy? Why was her penis distending uncomfortably along her perineum?

Bill sighed contentedly and continued to kiss her and Sam allowed herself to enjoy the experience and stop playing head games. One of Bill's hands had moved from the small of her back and found its way to her ass and was gently squeezing it but Sam made attempt to move it. It felt comforting and besides her circle-skirt would make it difficult for Bill's hand to proceed any further.

Bill was surprised and delighted when Sam returned his kisses. It was just as he had dreamed it would be. She felt so delicate and precious in his embrace, she smelled divinely and she tasted sweet. He allowed his hand to drift form her shoulder, down the small of her back, her silk blouse felt sensually sleek to his touch and then he found her buttocks and was able to cup them and softly squeeze them.

Sam had presented herself magnificently in the red circle-skirt, white silk blouse and red high heels; he even liked her new hairstyle which made her look younger and opened her face. But the construct of the skirt, the way it flared, made it difficult for him to get to those long sexy legs. The legs that had kept him awake last night even after he had masturbated thinking about them and her ass in the tight-fitting pencil skirt.

He wondered if she had worn the skirt deliberately to make it difficult for him to get to her nether regions and her legs. Bill suppressed his knowledge of what was inside the front of her panties; he lusted only after what was in the back of them: those rounded soft shapely buttocks, encased in gauzy satin, nylon or rayon.

Bill became tumescent and wanted relief.

Sam could feel Bill's hard cock pressing into her belly. She imagined she could actually feel the girth and the heat of it. She had felt it pressed to her buttocks only this morning so she knew what it felt like but this different. He was kissing her, he was stroking her ass, he was whispering endearments between passionate kisses, he was being charming.

Conflicting emotions welled up and Sam was confused. She asked herself two questions: Was she afraid? Was she aroused? The answer to both was yes and the solution appeared to be to submit to Bill's desires and save herself from his wrath and a possible belting or was she justifying her behaviour by projecting that Bill would become angry if she refused him?

The point was moot because when Bill gently guided her hand to the front of his pants she instinctively and competently took his phallus in her hand and squeezed it.

Bill gasped and so did she.

Their kisses became more passionate and Sam got out of her head and into the present and found herself utterly enamoured with Bill. His body was powerful and so was his phallus. Sam squeezed it again and felt it throb. That sense of power returned as she pressed her lipsticked-lips to his, slithered her tongue in his mouth and began to stroke Bill's cock through his pants.

Bill squeezed her ass and pawed at it; his fingers pressing into her soft flesh. The feel of his hand through the heavy fabric of her skirt was very satisfying but more importantly the feel of her buttocks being caressed through her red satin panties felt very lascivious.

Bill led Sam's hand to his flies and she unzipped them without hesitation. He was wearing a nice pair of cotton slacks, an open-collared shirt and light jacket rather than his fatigues and the zipper was easy to manipulate. Now that she had him unzipped she lost her confidence and got back into her head.

Why was she doing this? Because if she relieved him with her hand he would not demand anything else from her she lied to herself. Having justified her actions to herself she slipped her fingers into Bill's pants and found his warm, sleek flesh, rampant and coiled like a dozing snake waiting to be awakened.

Sam awakened it, freeing it from the confines of his trousers and holding it tightly. It felt like she was holding a dangerous and powerful smooth-skinned reptile. Sam began to lightly stroke the pulsing organ and Bill moaned into her mouth and his whole body shuddered. He held her even tighter, his fingers dug into her buttocks, his mouth pressed on hers as Sam used featherlight strokes to tease and delight the long, thick, sleek appendage with her delicate fingers.

Bill was overwhelmed with the sensations that Sam was eliciting from his throbbing manhood. Rings of delight radiated from his cock and combined with the sensuality he felt by holding her in his arms, caressing her ass and kissing her deeply. His cock began to dribble pre-ejaculate and Sam expertly gathered it and used it to lubricate the head and the shaft.

Sam was almost delirious with desire and was acting instinctively. Her cock had somehow managed to free itself from between her legs and pressed against the fabric of her panties and her testes had descended into her scrotal sac. She hoped that the flare of her skirt and the heavy material hid the evidence of her tumescence from Bill as he pressed his body against her. Whenever he moved slightly her cock rubbed against her satin panties.

She could feel that she had wet the front of her panties with her pre-coital discharge and her cock was so sensitive with arousal that she was afraid that she would ejaculate right then and there.

This caused Sam to grip Bill's cock tighter and to earnestly stroke it. She felt the veins swell and the glans balloon to its full girth just before Bill ejaculated in her hand.

His seed felt like hot lava on her fingers, hand and wrist but she didn't stop. In fact the salacity of the act of masturbating him to fulfilment spurned her on and she whipped her hand up and down Bill's cock, milking it of every drop. His cock erupted and his semen sprayed everywhere. She felt it spatter on her legs, on her feet, soak into her dress and splatter on her arm, seeming to scorch her flesh.

She ground her body against his, mashing his lips with hers and wriggling her tongue in his mouth. Bill was overcome with pleasure and was astounded at Sam's audacity. She was in charge and he was revelling in it. He subconsciously repressed the conception that he could feel a protuberance through her skirt pressing on him and a warm wetness blooming on the leg of his pants as Sam writhed against him like a slattern.

Sam had felt her own orgasm blossoming just as Bill's cock had exploded in her hand and pressed her crotch against his upper leg and ground her pubis against his hard muscled thigh. Her orgasm exploded and her cock jittered in her tight satin panties and released a flood of hot semen. The volume of her ejaculation was such that it saturated her panties and soaked into her skirt.

The two lovers held each other tight, squeezing and caressing, kissing and canoodling, Bill spattering his seed on Sam's body and legs and Sam filling her panties with her issue, drenching her underwear and skirt.

They clung to each other as their orgasms began so subside both of them overwhelmed and a little embarrassed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to go that far," Bill whispered.

"I'm as much to blame," Sam said softly.

She could feel Bill's semen soaking into her nylons and her skirt; her fingers and forearm were doused with his slippery issue. She was well aware that the front of her skirt was sodden with her own spend and her wet panties clung to her diminishing erection. Bill's penis was becoming flaccid and Sam released it and Bill self-consciously stuffed it back inside his flies and zipped.

He stopped squeezing her ass but his hand remained comfortingly cupping her buttock. Their kisses became soft and a little awkward. Post-coital embarrassment overcame them both.

"I should probably go home and change. I'll meet you at the Copperlode," Bill held Sam by her upper arms and stared into her brilliant green eyes.

She was still beautiful, there was no doubting that but now that he had sated his lust Bill wondered if what he had done was proper. He had lusted after this attractive, feminine woman knowing that she was really an imposter but she didn't look like one, she didn't feel like one and she certainly didn't behave like one.

But the evidence was right there on the leg of his pants and the front of her skirt.

A sense of reluctance and regret settled over Bill and he released Sam from his embrace.

"I'll see you there," Bill whispered and turned on his heels to leave.

He hadn't met her eyes when he spoke.

Sam looked down at the spreading stain on the front of her skirt and the dribbles of spunk clinging to her stockings, a gobbet of white coagulate pooled on her high heel. Her hand and forearm were sticky. She stepped up to the sink and ran the water, washing her hands and her arms. She took a dishrag and wiped away the blob of semen off her shoe and carefully dabbed at the rivulets clinging to her nylons. She kicked off her shoes and lifted her skirts and unclipped the welts of her stockings and rolled them off and carefully rinsed them under warm water and hung them on the towel rack to dry then she padded upstairs holding her high heels in one hand.

Sam slipped out of her skirt and sodden panties and went into the bathroom and cleaned herself with a warm washcloth. She put on a clean pair of nylon panties; they were yellow with white lace. Dressed only her panties and blouse she went down to the basement and put her skirt into the washer. The red panties went into a lingerie bag and followed the skirt along with washing soap; then she switched on the washer.

Returning to her bedroom she opened a package of fully-fashioned stockings, fleshtoned with black reinforcements and backseams. She delighted in the feel of the nylons on her legs as she put them on but there was no sense of arousal, Bill had extinguished her lust. She pushed the garters through the legholes of her panties and clipped the garters to the stockings and straightened her seams. She selected a green poodle skirt and stepped into it. Her blouse was still clean and did not need to be replaced.

She kicked away her red heels and stepped into a black pair and then she sat at her vanity and freshened her makeup and put on the lipstick that Bill had kissed away.

Now that the practicalities were taken care of she had time to think. Bill seemed awkward and reticent after they had been intimate and that should have been her role; she should have been feeling disconcerted. Bill hadn't forced himself on her physically but she had no choice except to accept his advances and be compliant and accommodating. 'There went that justification again,' she thought to herself.