Lady In The House - Reprise

"It will go quicker if we work together here hun," she said, and took another razor and began to shave my back.

After forty-five minutes of fiddling with half a dozen disposable razors my body was completely shaven. Carmel shaved my face and neck with a fresh razor and helped me out of the bath and dried me. She applied hair remover around my anus, genitals, and crotch and in the crack of my buttocks and a few minutes later she washed it off and dried me again.

"There we are Michele, all that horrible hair is gone," she said sweetly.

I looked up at her, dejected and resigned to my fate. Then I realised I had responded to being called Michele.

Carmel wrapped me in silk kimono and led me upstairs to the next level. We walked down a corridor with three cells on each side. The cells were all deserted but for the oversize cots which were made up with satin sheets and comforters. In each cell there were full size wardrobes, lighted makeup mirrors hung over vanity dressing tables littered with makeup, perfume and different shaped and coloured wigs sitting on wig-stands. I knew that the inside the wardrobes would be filled with sexy feminine attire and pairs of high-heels, the drawers crammed with lingerie. I remembered this place from all those years ago. The 'workrooms' Eddie and his cohorts called them. I couldn't believe I was back here in this nightmare again.

"This is your old workroom honey, hope you like it," Carmel said as she led me inside the cell.

"Like it! Like it! Are you fucking crazy Carmel! How the fuck can I like the fact that I am about to dress me up like a woman so that strangers can abuse me sexually!" I screamed.

"Well hun, you didn't like it at first the last time you were in Chelmsford if I remember rightly; but after a while; well I remember that time with me and Charlotte, and you spent all that time married to Davey before you got parole," she said matter of factly.

"You dumb cunt I had no choice! I had to do what I had to do to survive!" I screamed again.

"You just keep singing that song hun. Whatever gets you through the night and all that. But it ain't the way I remember it. Anyway, Steve said as soon as you show any signs of reluctance to just show you this. But I think I'll just stick it here on the mirror where you can see it all the time," she said, and stuck the picture of my sister Angie and my niece to the top right-hand corner of the mirror.

"Now I had to estimate your size but I figure a mixture of twelves and fourteens will do. You ain't fat but you're a big girl and I got you tens and elevens for your shoes. I know they're right because we're the same size as I remember," she went on.

She went over to wardrobe and opened the doors. She rummaged around and picked out various items of clothing and laid them out on the bed. She placed a pair of black stappy high-heels on the floor near the bed and then selected various items of jewellery and put them on the dresser. She pointed to a brunette wig which had lighter highlights streaked through it.

"Wear this wig with those clothes and shoes I have laid out for you. You should be ok with your makeup; like I said it's like riding a bike -- you never forget how. But I'll drop in on you in about forty-five minutes." She said.

"Now look Michele. You better wake the fuck up and get with the program! One of Steve's other prospects refused to cooperate and now he walks with a cane and so does his wife."

"I'm hoping this is going to be easy for you because you've done it before, but if you make it hard it won't end well." Carmel finished.

"See ya soon hun; were open for business in about an hour so get cracking!" Carmel strutted out of the cell, her high-heels clicking on the tiled floor of the corridor.

I pulled the chair up in front of the dressing table and put my head in my hands and started to cry. I heard a voice through the bars of the cell.

"You don't have time for that Michele; if you can't get it together, look at the picture on the mirror and get the fuck on with what you know you have to do!" It was Carmel shouting down the corridor.

I heard muffled snippets of conversation and other noises coming from some of the other cells; girls turning up to get transformed and ready for work. I stood up and closed the full-length curtains across the front of my cell; the sheer material covering the bars from top to bottom. I went back and sat at the dresser, sighed and looked down at the makeup. Carmel was right; even after all this time I knew what to do. I looked down at all of the packages, brand new, still in their cellophane wrappings. I selected what I needed and opened the packages and laid them out in the order I would use them.

I applied generous amounts of foundation to my face and then a similar coloured face powder to set the makeup foundation. I remembered that if I didn't get my eyeliner right the first time it was always a pain to clean off all the makeup around my eyes to start again so I did my eyeliner next; black kohl all along the edges of my upper and lower lids. I brushed on liberal amounts of eyeshadow, aqua on my eyelids and pink around the rest of my upper eyes right up to my brows and out to the edge of my eye socket. I brushed on three coats of black mascara and rouged my cheeks, accenting my high distinct cheekbones.

I picked out a ruby red two-part, long-lasting lipstick and painted my lips with the base coat. While that set I painted my fingernails and toenails with nail polish to match my lipstick; I applied the two coats very carefully as I was out of practice. I then dusted my face all over with glossy finishing powder. I picked up the wig and adjusted the brunette bob so that the fringe came to just above my eyebrows and then brushed it out over my ears and around the back and nape of my neck. To set my lipstick I applied the final clear coat carefully over my ruby red lips. I smacked them together and looked at my face in the mirror.

I couldn't believe it; Michele was back! A lot older sure; but just as sexy. The familiar routine of carefully applying makeup, and the taste, texture and feel of the makeup all came flooding back. I wanted to cry again but I knew I couldn't. It would only fuck up my makeup and I didn't have time to do it again, it had already taken me twice as long to do as it used to.

I walked over and sat on the bed and pulled on the white satin brassiere that Carmel had been laid out for me. I positioned two life-like silicon breastforms inside the cups and adjusted the fit. Next I slipped into a black satin garter-belt, the six long suspenders hanging from it. I clipped it at my waist and spun it around so it sat nicely in position with the clasps at my back. I opened the package of stockings, black nylon, fully fashioned with the reinforced heel and toe, back-seams and gauzy stocking-tops. I slid each of the gossamer stockings up my newly shaved legs, clipped them to the suspenders and adjusted the seams. A shiver of pleasure tried to emerge from my memory but I forced it down.

I stepped into the white full-cut silky nylon panties that matched my bra; familiar little shocks of pleasure ran through me as the panties rustled against my nylon stockings and again I suppressed them. I reached for the mauve silk blouse, put my arms into the sleeves and buttoned it up, struggling with the buttons because they are on the opposite side to a man's shirt and I hadn't worn a blouse for so long. I stepped into the navy blue rayon pencil skirt and pulled it up and closed up the zip on the side. I adjusted the waist and smoothed out the skirt, it clung to my thighs and the hem came to about mid-thigh. It showed a lot of leg, and the form fitting pencil shape showed off my buttocks. I sat down and put on my high heel sandals, the gold buckles glittering against my dark nylon stockings; my painted toenails visible through the reinforced toes.

I stood and walked over to the dresser and clipped on the silver drop earrings and fastened a matching pendant necklace around my neck. I pushed a couple of silver bangles on each wrist, and two rings on the first and third fingers of each hand; the rings emphasised my red painted fingernails. I sprayed a liberal amount of 'Poison' (my favourite perfume) on my neck, my decolletage, and a couple of squirts under my skirt.

There I was finished. I stood up and looked in the mirror. God it was uncanny! I looked just like the old Michele used to look. Sure I was eleven years older but I still looked quite attractive. Then I heard my cell door clatter open and the privacy curtain was wisped back. Carmel entered my workroom.

"Michele, you look stunning!" she said.

She walked over and stood beside me looking into the full-length mirror.

"I tell you what honey; the guys in this hole don't deserve two good looking sheilas like us. We make quite an attractive pair of strumpets" she giggled

"Are you fucking crazy!" I yelled in her face.

"Good looking pair of sheilas??? Attractive strumpets??? We're fucking men you moron. We are two middle-aged guys dressed up as women! And soon some repulsive criminal is going to come in here and expect me satisfy him sexually while he pretends that I'm a woman!" I screamed.

"Well Michele you can fight this all you like but you know how it works; you've been here before. I you don't like what's happening; you just have to pretend you do."

"You know some of the punters like it when you get off; and, well some of them really like it if they have to force you a bit; but you know how it works. So I'll send in your first customer shall I?" she finished.

"You fucking dozy cunt Carmel. You're talking to me like I have just returned to an old job from the past that I used to like!" I replied.

"I fucking hated being a transvestite and the thought of having to go through all that filth and depravity again disgusts me!"

"Oh no Michele; you don't get away with that. I know you enjoyed most of your time in here as a transvestite so don't deny it. You can quote all of the psychiatric self justification you want but I was here and I remember what happened," she went on.

"Yeah you were forced to do what you did, same as you are being forced now. But don't hand me that 'I didn't like any of it bullshit!'"

"Anyway I don't have time to justify either of our pasts or present circumstances; we just have to live with them."

"First punter; five minutes, be ready!" she finished and closed the curtain and walked out.

I sat down on my bed and was about to cry when I caught a glimpse of my sister's photo stuck in the corner of my mirror. I swallowed by pride, set my resolve and lifted my head to the curtain to await whoever walked through it.

A couple of minutes later my workroom door opened and the curtain was pulled back. In walked Carmel with a young man in his early twenties dressed in regulation prison fatigues. He looked around sheepishly and then Carmel took his hand and led him over in front of me.

"Michele this is Brendan; it's his first time doing this sort of thing so I thought I would give him to one of my more experienced girls ok?" she smiled sweetly at both us and then winked at me.

"Brendan, Michele is the best I have. She's just come out of retirement and that makes you both special; she will be your first Tranny and you will be her first man for some time. Enjoy kids. Don't forget Brendan, you only paid for short time; I'll be back to get you in half an hour." Carmel finished and exited closing the curtains and door behind her.

"I, I, I, err, I'm really nervous," Brendan stammered.

"But you look lovely. You look like one of those older women who used to come around to see me mum. They were like you; heavy makeup, tight skirts, nylon stockings and fuck me high-heels. I used to wank meself crazy thinking about them," he blushed.

"Well if you are nervous and this is your first time, maybe you just want to sit on the bed and talk," I cooed, hoping I could get Brendan to waste his half hour talking.

He was having none of it.

"Fuck that! I want to get me money's worth! You're a whore and I want right now sex, I don't care if you have a cock as long as I don't have to touch it. I haven't had any sex for six months so I'm going to enjoy this; it's cost me all me savings," he said and reached out and pulled me to him.

Brendan locked me in his arms and his lips came down hard on mine. He pushed his body against mine, dry humping and moaning and groaning. As his tongue pushed into my mouth the old familiar taste of lipstick and makeup rekindled memories long repressed. His tongue started to explore my mouth and he hugged me harder and I could feel his erection growing in his denim jeans.

"Oh fuck yeah; this is so good. Let me take it out before I come in me pants," he grunted and eased himself away a little from me.

Brendan fumbled around with his flies and I heard the sound of his zipper being yanked down. He took my hand and nervously placed it inside his trousers; my painted fingernails scraped against smooth hard skin. It was the first penis besides my own that I had touched in over ten years. My fingers automatically took the swollen phallus in a loose grip and eased it out of Brendan's jeans.

He was shivering and shaking so hard that I knew I could make him come in seconds and that's what I decided I would do. If I could get away with making this guy climax without using my mouth or even worse by bottom, then I was going to do it.

"So you liked that mommies friends wore short skirts, nylons and high heels did you?" I teased, as I slowly stoked Brendan's hard cock.

"Oh yeah, I love the way you are dressed even if you are a guy," he whispered.

"Well you certainly know how to make a girl feel good," I chuckled.

"Oh fuck this talking; come here you sexy bitch," he groaned and pulled me against him again.

Brendan's hands went straight to my buttocks and I felt him lift my skirt up completely so that it rode up around my waist. He kissed me hard and his tongue explored my mouth, panting muffled moans of pleasure. He was playing into my hands and I responded to his kisses and twined my tongue around his and started to squeeze and stroke his rock hard cock.

Brendan pushed me back and lowered me onto the bed without breaking our embrace, his hands running up and down my nyloned thighs and across my smooth nylon panties. I guided his erection against my leg so that his glans rasped against my stocking-top whilst my hand stroked his shaft. He was shivering and whimpering and I knew he was close to orgasm; I wanted him to come soon before he figured out what I was up to.

His hands moved back under me and he caressed my buttocks squeezing and massaging them through my silky panties and he pushed his body against me and I felt his penis begin to pulse and throb. He was now panting uncontrollably, his hands squeezing and kneading my buttocks, his crotch pushing hard with the rhythm of my strokes as I masturbated him. He forced the tip of his penis harder against my thigh so that my gossamer stocking excited him further. I knew this young man was living out the fantasy of getting his rocks off with one of his mommy's middle-aged girlfriends.

I squeezed and massaged Brendan's penis and then released my grip on his member and pushed my body up to meet his thrusts so that his cock was humping my thigh. He quickly moved his hands under my back and gripped my shoulders and began to dry fuck me. I clamped my legs together so that his manhood was trapped between my sheer stockinged thighs and wrapped my arms around him and humped him back. I wanted this young man to climax and then get off me so this could all be over with as soon as possible.

Brendan quivered and shook and hot streams of semen suddenly drenched my thighs; I felt the hot seed against my skin as it seeped through my hose. Jet after jet of Brendan's spend soaked into my stockings as he ejaculated against my thighs. I gagged but forced myself to keep control and tense my thighs around his erupting penis and push up against him; kissing him deeply as he gasped into my mouth in the throes of orgasm.

He slowly came down from his climax and then relaxed and lay still on top of me; his passion spent. After a minute he pushed himself off me and stood with his back to me as he put away his deflating penis and zipped up his jeans. He seemed almost embarrassed about what had just happened.

I held up my skirt as I stood up so that none of his semen would stain it. Keeping my skirt rucked up around my waist, I clattered across the cell to my dressing table and took a handful of tissues and wiped away the long ropes of Brendan's cooling semen from my thighs. The silence was awkward and I wanted him to go.

"I know what you did," Brendan whispered.

"What?" I replied.

"I know what did. You asked me about my fetish for older women in stockings and makeup and that, and then you got me off so that you didn't have to suck me or anything," he said petulantly.

"Well next time I'm getting a suck at least; maybe more," he whined.

"Yep next time I'm getting my full money's worth," Brendan grumbled as he flung back the curtain and clattered out of my workroom cell.

I was relieved. I had seen off my first punter having only to live with the indignity of having to masturbate him and make him come over my legs. But I was still ashamed of myself. I felt distressed and alarmed that the seductive skills that I had learned here in Chelmsford so long ago had returned so quickly and easily. I had quickly regressed back into a transvestite hooker. I looked at the photo of my sister and niece attached to mirror and rationalised that I had only done what I had to do to ensure their well being.

But as I stood there in my come stained stockings holding my skirt up around my waist with the pungent aroma of perfume and hot semen in the air, I wondered how I was going to justify to myself the stiff erection bulging out the front of my panties.

To be continued...