K&T, LLC Ch. 04

I asked if any of them were specializing in the Amish. None were, but it happened that one of the girls, Evaine, was from a neighboring county in Pennsylvania. I asked her if she had any experience working side by side with them. She did. The Amish support Mennonite Disaster Services, which had sent a crew to a tornado clean up in her home town. I told everyone that Evaine was designated the liaison to the Amish women. I then explained the plan Elder Neufeld and I had roughed out that afternoon. Evaine promised to handle the details. I crossed my fingers and went on.

The day of grime had acquainted them with the effort we needed. Evaine told everyone to expect the Amish to work very hard, especially to prepare the dance floor. She wanted to attend that herself. One of the boys, I had not caught the name, asked where they would be staying. I told him that I had arranged for some big tents in one corner. One of the girls asked why they could not use the rooms upstairs. To which several heads nodded.

Michael said that there were both old family bedrooms and servants quarters, all unused. It would be enough for a sizable chunk of the expected crew. Naturally, they had been closed for years, so extensive cleaning would be necessary. I pulled out my phone and called George on his Bluetooth. He passed this on to Elder Neufeld. I suspected, we would be getting a free housecleaning in exchange for indoor quarters.

Then, it was on to practical issues. Which power sources were usable and at what load? How would the room occupancy levels be monitored? Where would food be prepared? Michael vouched for the gas stoves in the big kitchen, but there was no refrigeration and the lighting was not up to code. One boy suggested a bottled gas walk in refrigerator. I had been thinking refrigerated box truck, but his idea suited me fine.

That led to a string of suggestions, which was why Jo brought them in the first place. It was after 3:30 PM. I told them to go wrap up their current projects and break for a meal at 5:00 PM. They could rough out some proposals over beer and pizza. That brought cheers, except from one girl. Since she appeared Indian, I guessed either no pork or strict vegetarian. I told Michael to be sure to make kosher and veggie part of the order. The girl's quick smile told me I was correct.

Next on the schedule was Gerald and how he was doing with Sheila's cameras. Oh joy.

Siobhan:

I looked different dressed in a suit and standing so it hung properly. While we were still at the warehouse store, I spent a couple of minutes in front of the mirror, playing with the differences that heels and posture made. I could, easily, make a nice outfit look like ill fitted bags. My companion/coach in this was CC, who rarely said a word, was deferential to a fault and completely helpful. I began to understand the relationship CC had with Sheila. I was also getting turned on—again.

Getting to Julian's parlor proved challenging. There was only the one car. We filled the trunk and back seat with clothes and shoes, then crammed five people into one front seat. Fortunately it was only for a few blocks. When we reached Sheila's car, the other women climbed out and Russell drove me to the Parlor. This late in the afternoon, parking was looser.

I was wearing tall heels for the first time in my adult life. I managed to climb out of the car and up to the stairps, but there I stopped. Julian's steps were crumbled and slick. I did not want to risk them alone. It was not a long wait. When the others arrived, inevitably CC was the one who helped me up. Sheila and Francine waited so we all entered together. When we stepped through the door, an animated conversation stopped dead. Maggie and Millie both stared; Maggie went slack jawed.

Still, she found her voice first. "Sure it is, Miss Siobhan, that ye are a fine looking woman. Right handsome, I say. I did nae think these two were wee fairies, but perhaps I'm bein' mistaken. Wait there. Mr. Julian will be seeing you first." Fine looking woman? The Dean of my college would have a heart attack to hear it.

Maggie bustled over. She and CC helped me down the stairs. Descending turned out to be more dangerous than climbing. Julian's studio, if it deserved the title, was almost homelike. Change the fabric to books and paper and it could be any of a dozen TA group offices on campus. Julian, in this context, was exactly what I expected—a specialty absorbed genius, with ego to match. We got on fine.

The first order was stripping to my panties. I had expected no issues with that, but having Maggie watching made me shy. Oddly, CC had also stayed, but I was completely ready to get naked with her.

Julian had me raise my hands. He thrust the sides of the corset past me, but scolded me when I sought to fasten it. I had done research on corsets. This was a simple underbust training corset. Contrary to most uses, the term "training" is reserved for serious corsets. It means that garment is suitable for figure training, not merely occasional use. They also cost three times as much. The underbust part meant that my tits were in the open, so I would be wearing a bra.

Julian stood behind me, pulling and poking. To my front, Maggie was paying close attention, while she hung my new suit on hangers. She was almost old enough to be my grandmother, but she found my tits fascinating. I wonder if this was the usual service, or if she preferred Raphaelian women. CC, standing to her side, was smiling faintly. I could not tell if she was laughing at me or at Maggie.

Presently, Julian finished his ministrations and came around to close up the front. This was not easy, even though the laces were still loose. I suspected that was a good thing. There was a bit more fussing with the front, then Julian directed me to a heavy iron pipe near a corner. I grabbed it and Julian started to pull. There was a talk as he did this, but I did not listen. I was to involved with the pressure on my middle.

If there were any doubt that this was real corset, it took only moments to disappear. It felt like a too tight bra, only much wider. Very soon I was gasping for breath. That would mean that my diaphragm was constricted. No arias for a while. The pulling stopped, so I started to step back from the pipe. No luck. There must be two strings, This one started at the bottom and worked up. Oh boy.

Eventually, it was over and I was able to consider dressing. CC stepped forward, startling Maggie considerably. She helped me with my bra, which felt loose. I had CC overlap the back one more hook. Then I stepped into my skirt—I had been wearing heels this whole time—and fastened it up. It literally fell to my ass. I had CC hold it as I brought the belt in two notches.

Once I had everything positioned correctly, it was time to negotiate the stairs again. CC held the door for me. I felt I must be a dreadful sight, but the others disagreed. Francine was grinning ear to ear, but Sheila cocked her head to one side and pursed her lips. Then she went to her clutch and pulled out a slimline camera. With this she proceeded to shoot a number of shots. Then she went past me and down the stairs. That was when I realized Maggie and CC had gone, presumably to CC's fitting.

Sheila came back with a laptop computer and another skirt. She handed the skirt to Francine, who jerked her head to the changing booth. Well, with the corset on, the skirt I was wearing was a couple of inches too large. Francine helped me out of it and into a brown, mid length wool skirt. It was rather warm for the weather, but it had a more adjustable waistline. At least I would not have to worry about it falling off.

Then Francine pulled out a makeup bag and and did a few touch ups. I had worn makeup at least half a dozen times, so this was not a new experience—not exactly. I was unsure what a little blood colored lip gloss and some eye liner would do, but it was a day for letting things happen. Ye Gods, I was wearing a corset, high heels and designer clothes. Only the corset had been expected when I got out of bed.

When we came out, Sheila had the laptop open and an photo processing program running. She shot a couple of additional pictures, then pulled the memory card out of the camera. Before I considered what to expect, the first of her pictures came up. For a long moment, I wondered who the picture was of, before the suit registered. At least twice that day, I had looked in the mirror and seen an image that could not be me, but was. This time, I literally did not recognize myself.

It was hard to place what had the biggest impact. The suit was certainly a large part of it. I had been a jeans and T-shirt girl since I was in preschool. My posture made a huge difference, and the heels added to that effect. Well and good, but I had seen that before. This time I had shape. I looked like a girl. The clothes hung correctly. Something hot was on my cheek, which made me realize I was crying.

Naturally, a girl moment like that brought tears all over. Francine came over and hugged me around the corset. Damn that woman is short. In heels, I was at least a foot taller. Then I realized she was also silent, as was everyone else. There was an aura of ceremony about the moment. I was being initiated into their little club.

I picked Francine up and hugged her properly. Then I set her down and kissed her on both cheeks. Sheila flowed into my arms and we repeated the ritual. Then, she whispered into my ear. "CC has had a little experience with women, but she has had no tutelage in cunnilingus. I'll loan her to you tonight, provided you expand her skill set." I think my ass blushed. Everything else did.

Once we were finally sitting down, I asked the big question. "Where did it go wrong." Sheila and Francine looked at each other, then Sheila deferred. Francine launched into a long, rambling explanation, full of reverses and asides. I was lost fairly early on. After a while, CC came back, so Francine had to go do her fitting. I wished, for a moment, that I could watch. Instead, I turned to Sheila, who was laughing.

She said, "I love Francine dearly, but she is a blond at the worst times. The problem is simple—you are not cute." Well, duh. Sheila must have caught my reaction, because she gave me a Mistress Cynthia look and said, "Think it through—Doctor." Ouch. What did the most obvious fact of my existence mean?

When I was a small child, other girls were getting pinafore dresses and bow ties in their hair. They made me look ridiculous. Some of my earliest memories were the mockings of the pretty girls. I must have tried, but it was hopeless. My place was with the misfits. As I grew, the lesson was reinforced many times. I was not pretty. The cute...there was the word.

Let us equate pretty and cute. From early age I was neither. The social hierarchy decreed that only attractive girls could fit in the elite cliches. Attractive, for preteens at least, also equates with pretty and cute. Then came puberty. Oh my God. The first year I had tits was the worst. I had never been thin, but suddenly I was called Fat Cow, in addition to Horseface and Stiltwalker. They felt threatened, because I had larger breasts than any girl in the school. I distinctly remember deciding to not wear a bra, precisely because of the hazing.

Add another ten years. I had a firm place in the outcasts. I was firmly convinced that I was unattractive. My large size was a backhand asset in my chosen group. I could play the male with the lesbians, which was another reason to keep my tits in plain view. So, here I was at twenty four, realizing how the past twenty years had gotten me to this point. What that did not explain was why I looked as good as I clearly did.

Just as I was about to ask, Sheila gave me the next part. "Maggie said it, you are handsome." That was the rest of it. I looked good, but not cute, not pretty. The suit made me look confident. Powerful. Damn, I really was Sean's sister. A smile spread over my face.

There was payback coming and I really am a bitch when I want to be.

Sheila:

Bargain hunting with Francine was as much fun as ever, but the real pleasure came from watching Siobhan blossom. Getting her to stand straight did amazing things. Siobhan had seen that. Heels are one of the few things that make everyone look better. Siobhan had seen that. Properly tailored, properly fitted and suitable clothing made a big difference. Siobhan had seen that. The corset was the cherry on the sundae.

I had worried that she would do one thing or two things, then balk. Siobhan knew that we were coming for corsets. Even there I had doubts. A training corset is not at all like the fashion pieces worn to clubs. Clearly, she had a meeting of the minds with Francine. Like Sean, once Siobhan committed, she gave it all she had. More importantly, Siobhan was paying attention. There was a fine mind in the grunge/punk package.

Of course, the best laid plans often fail. Truth be known, I had hoped to show Siobhan a small piece of her potential. That had happened at the shoe store. The suit at the warehouse store was a revelation, even to me. That made the fitting at Julian's a real revelation. My first move was to send a picture to Gerald, with a caption that said "Pay up." Then, I had to hug her.

On impulse, I also loaned her Christine for the night. Siobhan would need a dresser in any case. We all had a very touching moment. Then, Siobhan asked the obvious question. This allowed Francine to bury her in verbiage, which went on for several minutes, til Christine returned and tapped Francine's shoulder.

In the quiet that followed, Siobhan repeated her question. I told her simply, "You're not cute." Siobhan frowned. I told her, "Think it through—Doctor." That was a bit harsh, but Siobhan needed to understand. Nothing is ever as clear as something you worked out for yourself. The truth was that Siobhan was not beautiful, and never would be. She was, as Maggie had said, handsome. If ever a woman was born for a power suit, it was Siobhan. She would scare the shit out of my clients and G_d help the kids back at the Residence.

Francine had gone for her fitting, which would be either short or long, depending on her mood. That meant that Christine was back. I informed her that she would be acting as dresser for Siobhan. I also mentioned that Siobhan had some skills and experience in the area of pleasuring other women. Finally, I reminded Christine that any mark on her skin was to come from me. Christine was almost bouncing with excitement.

Clearly, this was not the reaction Siobhan expected. I was not sure if I could explain it, but I tried. "You know how Francine exudes energy?" Siobhan nodded. "While I give off..." Siobhan filled, "Smooth." I would have chosen another term, but it would do. "Siobhan, my dear, you exude raw pulsing power. I am scared shitless of what would happen if Sean ever hooked up with Christine. You are from the same bloodline. Just standing near you makes her shiver. Just watch. Christine, let Siobhan hug you."

Christine wasted no time moving up to Siobhan. At that point, it was a competition between eagerness and embarrassment. I said, "Siobhan, please sit there. Christine, you have been a naughty girl. Pull down your panties, pull up your skirt and present your shameful ass for discipline. Siobhan, the trick is to whip the finger tips. If you do it right, your hand will be tingling for an hour, but first, check the oil. She ought to be well lubricated."

Siobhan seemed to know the basics. She plunged three fingers into Christine's slot without any workup. They glistened when they came out. More importantly, Christine jerked when she did it. Siobhan's eyes found mine, then a slow smile spread. She was definitely Sean's sister. I suspected Christine would be reminded of that twitch, but that was for later.

Siobhan gave Christine a couple of good whacks, then borrowed a page from my manual. "CC, dear, I did not hear you call the count. Now we will start over and, this time, do it properly." I added, "And don't you dare cum." I don't know if Siobhan understood what verbalizing the count meant to Tess, but she might. Whatever the cost, Tess called the count audibly.

When the count reached ten, Siobhan looked up. I made a little circle with my thumb and fingers. Siobhan's grin was positively evil. She shoved two fingers into Tess' cunt, causing another jerk, then Siobhan ran her glistening big finger around the rim of Tess' anus. With no more preparation, Siobhan shoved her fuck-you finger all the way in.

Tess turned red all the way to her ass, but she did not start jerking. That's my girl. I nodded to Siobhan, who let Christine up, but claimed the panties. I reached into my purse and pulled out a dog biscuit. I tossed this to Christine, who caught it in her mouth and crunched it loudly. Christine is such an exhibitionist.

From the door I heard, "Damn Schwartz. Next time you schedule entertainment, let me know." Obviously, Francine was back and had caught the tail end of the show. Millie and Maggie were both fanning themselves. Christine blushed, again. I had Siobhan stand up. Then I demonstrated a proper courtsy. This brought smiles all around.

Then it was time to go. It was almost 6:00 PM and we had not gotten to visit Francine's wardrober yet.