One for the Team Ch. 03

Chapter Three - Maid Service

October 1984

Charles reported to Robert's dormitory room as directed the next morning straight after breakfast. During breakfast service William Larkin was upbeat and caromed around Charles like an excited puppy under his feet.

"So we're hanging around with the upper housemen now that we're a top rugby player?" he teased.

"If you think what I'm doing is hanging around William, you have it totally wrong. I'm... what am I? I'm like their vassal, sort of like their servant if you will," Charles replied sipping hot tea.

They sat at a table away from the other lower housemen.

"Sort of like a maid?" William mused over his mug, eyeing Charles carefully.

"Why would you say that?" Charles snapped.

"Why wouldn't you say butler or servant? Why maid?"

"I don't know. I guess it just sounds more demeaning. Gentlemen tend to treat their manservants better than their maids and from what I've witnessed Robert Fellows treats you like shite," William replied.

"Speaking of Robert Fellows, I need to run, I have to fag for him this morning before class," Charles kicked back his chair and dropped his napkin on the table.

"You've hardly eaten a thing Mister Ward. How are you going to take on them Warwickshire forwards on Sunday if you don't bulk up? You're built like my daughter Daisy," Mrs Elaine Figgis chided as she cleared away the breakfast plates.

William gave Charles a knowing look and went back to his toast and marmalade.

After knocking on the door, Charles was invited inside Robert Fellows' dorm. Robert sat in a lounge chair eating a bacon sandwich and sipping a mug of tea whilst watching the morning news. The lounge room looked like a bomb had gone off in it and the bedroom looked worse.

"You can start in there. Did you bring your timetable like Charlotte told you to?' he said around a mouthful of bread, bacon and HP sauce.

Charles reached into his blazer, bought out the document and handed it over. Robert took it gingerly between the ring and little fingers of his left hand, the other fingers being covered in sauce and bacon grease. He nodded at a napkin on a breakfast tray on the hassock in front of him and Charles took it, shook it, and handed it to Robert.

"Start in there," Robert nodded at his bedroom.

Charles took off his blazer and began to strip the bed.

The situation was bizarre. Not twelve hours earlier, Charles, dressed as Charlotte had been fellating the man who was now sitting next door heartily eating a bacon butty. Robert had obviously disassociated Charlotte from Charles; to him they were two separate people. Charles had to say that the idea appealed to him; Charlotte was a totally different entity and the disaffection of Charlotte from Charles was the only way he could deal with the house council and not go batty.

Robert took Charles' timetable over to his desk and sat down and studied it. He began to scribble on it while Charles made the bed and cleaned up the dorm. Robert never spoke to him while he completed his chores. Charles asked to be excused when he had finished and began to put on his coat.

"That was quite a good effort against Harrow on Sunday by the way. Not sure we'll be using that play again though... took rather a toll on your body I'm afraid and we can't have that now can we?" Robert surprised Charles with the compliment.

"Good chap. Now take that tray down to the kitchen and thank Mrs Figgis for me. I've reviewed and revised your timetable, I'll make sure that your form master approves the changes and make sure you show it to Charlotte so that she knows her new duties," he tucked the folded document into the pocket of Charles' blazer dismissively.

Charles went back to his own dorm and opened the timetable. His lesson plans had not changed, just his extra curricula activities. He still had the Army Cadet parades on Monday evening and Saturday mornings but now additionally after parades there was a new entry: common room duties for the house council, these duties had also been added to his timetable on Wednesday after rugby training.

Essentially this meant that Charlotte was going to have to service Robert Fellows, Wayne Jenkins and Steven Belfour-Brown two evenings a week and all of Saturday afternoon. She assumed that Brian Nichol was still a dissenter. Charlotte considered the ramifications. These were essentially the days that Charlotte made her appearances anyway so at least it meant that Charles wouldn't be kept busy conducting menial tasks during these times which was what often happened. However, it was with dread that Charlotte realised that she would be employed by the council as their personal fellatrix. She had effectively been sentenced to spending hours on her knees sucking cock. But if she found it so degrading why was there a lump in the front of Charles' trousers?

But what choice did she have? Tell the college faculty? They would likely punish the Bridge House council and most likely remove them, but she would be expelled for sure.

Tell her father? She'd end up penniless and disowned by her family for bringing such disgrace. She recalled the picture that Robert Fellows had taken of her in her spunk-stained clothing holding up yesterday's newspaper. He had definitive evidence that Charles was still crossdressing which he could use at any time. It was like the sword of Damocles hanging over her head. There was no time to ponder the situation now; Charles had lessons. Charlotte vacated Charles' psyche and let him proceed to his lectures.

Charles was surprised to find Robert waiting for him in his dorm room when he finished his day's studies. He had Charlotte's suitcase open on the bed.

"You can't keep lugging this through the common room, the chaps will get suspicious. I quite like the way Charlotte was dressed the last time she visited. Just bring those clothes and the other things she'll need," he absentmindedly fondled a pair of French knickers.

Charles went cold.

"Be there sharp, as soon as you've finished playing soldier. I'll leave the door to the sanctum open but make sure you lock it when you come through... or don't, if you're happy with someone accidently finding Charlotte committing carnal acts on the house council," Robert sniggered.

"Go straight to the privy and what do you call it? Transform. We don't want to see Charles; sort of spoils the illusion old boy," Robert left the room without looking at him.

Straight after parade Charles bustled into his dorm and shucked out of his uniform. He used the toilet, cleaned himself and then took a shower and shaved a few wisps of hair from his chest. He slipped into a tracksuit for convenience and took down the small backpack from the wardrobe. Housemen often carried backpacks full of textbooks and other sundries around the campus so it would not draw attention.

He checked his watch: eight thirty. He needed to hurry.

Charles skipped down the stairs and jogged to the common room and took a second to catch his breath. He opened the door and stepped inside. The place was pretty busy, some boys were watching a movie on the telly, others were playing board games, some were in little study groups but none of them paid him much attention. He worked his way to the back of the room and into the passage behind the bookcase.

In the inner sanctum bathroom he transformed into Charlotte dressing just like she had before: pencil skirt, satin blouse, bob-cut jet-black wig with the fringe, heavy makeup, blood-red lipstick and high heels. This time however she had decided to wear pantyhose for convenience. She checked herself out in the mirror and was satisfied with what she saw.

She had noticed stains on her blouse and skirt when she had returned to her dorm after the last time she had been here. She knew from experience that semen stains were notoriously difficult to remove. She'd brushed the dried semen out of her wig, shampooed it and hung it to dry in the wardrobe and had been able to rinse her blouse clean but the skirt was a problem. She couldn't wash it and she could hardly put it in with her weekly dry-cleaning could she?

Two pairs of school uniform trousers, one pair of army khaki parade trousers, one army khaki blouse, one school blazer and one satin-lined navy-blue pencil skirt with kick pleat... she could just imagine handing over the dry-cleaning docket to Mrs Figgis.

She had brushed as much of the dried semen as she could off the skirt and dabbed at the stains with a damp cloth because she couldn't wash it; it would be ruined. She decided that it would be her 'blow-job skirt'; she would just wear it when she went to the inner sanctum and when she was finally released from these debasing and perverted duties, likely when the upper housemen graduated, she would throw it away.

She set her resolve and entered the inner sanctum to find Robert Fellows, Wayne Jenkins and Steven Belfour-Brown lounging on their couches watching a porn video and drinking pints of beer and tumblers of scotch. College rules did not allow the consumption of hard spirits during the week but who was going to stop them? Brian Nichol was conspicuous by his absence. All eyes turned towards Charlotte as she walked over to them.

"My giddy aunt, she still looks ravishing," Wayne Jenkins commented.

"She does and I'm going first," Robert Fellows declared.

Charlotte set her resolve. She said nothing and simply walked over and stood in front of Robert Fellows who had stood up and divested himself of his tracksuit pants and t-shirt and was now naked and sporting a throbbing erection. The other lads turned in their direction to watch the show.

Charlotte stopped short of Robert and although she was tempted to bow her head she looked up at him defiantly. She was close enough to notice that he was wearing aftershave and deodorant, he was freshly showered and his hair was combed. At least he was considerate in that regard; he was confident in his good looks and he smiled at her.

"Hello Charlotte, good to see you again," he reached out and stroked her face.

Despite her intense dislike for this man she couldn't help admiring his toned body and rugged handsomeness. In another time at another place she might have been flattered but for now, all she felt was despair.

Robert pulled her into his embrace and for a fleeting second she thought he was going to kiss her, she even parted her lips slightly in anticipation but he simply held her close and pressed himself against her. His head rested on her shoulder and his hands found her buttocks, squeezing them, caressing them, sliding the fabric of her skirt against the slinky Harlow knickers. When he hiked up her skirt she heard the others gasp. Robert's hands explored the satiny material of her knickers and roamed over her taut thighs.

"Wearing tights today dear? I suppose that's practical," he whispered in her ear.

Robert snaked his hand between their bodies and pushed his erection down between her thighs and encouraged her to close her legs. He began to thrust back and forth, rubbing his engorged penis between her thighs, delighting in the feel of the slippery nylon on his sensitive member.

"Put a bit of effort in old girl," Robert chuckled and held Charlotte by her hips and encouraged her to rock and forth on her heels to meet his thrusts.

Charlotte had to put her arms around Robert to keep her balance and the firm flesh of his body pressed against her through her clothing, she could feel his muscles and the heat from his phallus as it grazed her legs. Charlotte's soft body pressed against his and the scent of her perfume was very stimulating, Robert leaned back a little so he could look at her pretty face while he abused her. Her emerald green eyes glared at him, challenging him. He was tempted to lean in and kiss her; he so wanted to. But not with the other two present. They had agreed that so long as they didn't kiss her or sodomise her, what they were doing wasn't gay. It was a stupid assumption; a hypothesis that theorised that as long as they didn't cross certain boundaries they remained completely heterosexual.

Charlotte continued to undulate her thighs, which she kept clamped closed against Robert's hard cock. She could feel the girth of it, the heat, the pulsing of the veiny shaft against her nylon-clad flesh; she held onto him, pressing herself against his body, staring vacantly into his eyes.

He saw the look of shock replace her empty stare as he ejaculated, her lips parted and she gasped. Robert pulled her closer and buried his head in her shoulder, nuzzling her neck as his cock juddered and convulsed, spewing his issue between her legs. He sensed Charlotte clamp her legs tighter around his organ, gyrating her thighs to elicit his issue; she was breathing heavily, her sweet breath a zephyr on his cheek, her perfume exotic and arousing.

Wayne Jenkins had stripped naked during the performance and stood behind Charlotte enraptured. When Robert's spunk erupted from between Charlotte's thighs and dribbled down her legs and turned the sheer flesh-toned nylon dark as it soaked into the gossamer fabric he couldn't help but take his own member in hand and begin to stroke it.

Charlotte clung to Robert, her heart beating as hard as his was, letting him finish and slowly descend from the pinnacle of his orgasm. Robert could have held Charlotte against him for hours, luxuriating in the feel of her body against his but it was his place to show the others that she was just their plaything.

Wayne Jenkins was pawing at Charlotte, anxious to take his turn. Robert sensed that she was reluctant to let go of him but he could just as well have been imagining it. He extracted himself from her embrace and fell onto the sofa quite satisfied and a little exhausted.

"My turn," Wayne Jenkins cried enthusiastically.

He didn't turn Charlotte around as she expected, instead he pushed her down to the floor. She thought he would turn her around so she could fellate him but instead he coaxed her onto her hands and knees and raised her buttocks. She felt him behind her and then the heat of his cock as he slipped it into the crease of her buttocks and began to thrust against her panty-clad behind. It took him only a couple of thrusts and then she heard him moan and his scalding semen saturated her panties. He pressed harder against her and she fell to the floor on her belly as Wayne lay on top of her, rutting against her knickers. He licked her neck and pawed at her legs as he ground his penis into her pillowy bottom until he was satisfied and then he leapt to his feet like an athlete who had won a wrestling match.

Charlotte was suddenly shocked as she felt a spattering of warm spunk splash across her calves and ankles. Steven had ejaculated prematurely but had just enough time to rip off her high heels and cup her feet together and thrust his cock into the silken channel as the last of issue dribbled from his cock.

"I've always been a foot man," he chuckled as he dropped her feet to the floor and pushed himself up to the standing positon.

The young men surveyed their handiwork. Charlotte lay prone on the floor, her skirt hiked up and her buttocks, legs and feet covered in rivulets of creamy semen that soaked into her knickers and nylons as it cooled.

Steven prodded her with his foot.

"Get up old girl; the evening has only just begun. Go and clean yourself and powder your nose or whatever, then come back and you can have a drink before we start again," he chuckled.

Charlotte felt utterly degraded as she tried to get to her feet. She struggled, her palms slipping on the cold stonework. Robert bent down and helped her to her feet and steadied her while she put on her high heels.

"Thank you," she whispered, and walked away with as much dignity as she could muster holding her skirt away from her come-spattered legs and buttocks.

Charlotte entered the privy and locked the door. She had decided to wear pantyhose for practicalities but also for another important reason. She unzipped the side of her skirt and carefully lowered it to the floor. She surveyed her semen soaked thighs, the musky fluid darkening her nylons. The other reason she had decided to wear tights was quickly revealed. She put her fingers into the crotch of her pantyhose and extracted her throbbing erection. She stroked it twice before she ejaculated; the orgasm so intense that she fell to her knees. When she recovered she stripped off her knickers and pantyhose, balled them up and put them in her backpack. She took out a fresh pair of pantyhose and a clean pair of satin knickers and put them on. She fixed her makeup and looked at herself in the mirror.

"You slut!" she whispered and began to cry.

When the sobbing jag was over she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and left the privy, returning to the three men who were waiting anxiously for her. On the screen a mature woman dressed in sexy lingerie and high heels was fellating two young men, sucking on their cocks alternately. She guessed what was coming next and prepared herself.

*****

November 1984

This was to be Charlotte's life now; she was trapped. But strangely enough the bizarre became the norm. She slotted her visits to the council's inner sanctum around her other after-school activities. A summary of Charlie's timetable might read something like: Mon - Cadet Parade, Charlotte sucks cock. Tue - Rugby training. Wed - Rugby training, Charlotte sucks cock. Thu - Study Group. Fri - Rugby training. Sat - Cadet Parade, Charlotte sucks cock. Sun - Rugby match.

Charlotte did not like being the Bridge House council's sex toy but she was pragmatic about it. At least she got to dress up and become a woman, a woman the young men found very attractive. What they did to her however she found demeaning, rubbing up against her, using her mouth as a depository for their sperm, spurting their issue over her buttocks and legs without any display of affection, sentiment or tenderness made her feel used, dejected and common.

She was also pragmatic about her physical reaction to her treatment. Charlotte knew that becoming sexually aroused during these sessions was just a physical response to a stimuli and her need for release afterwards was just a primal urge that needed tending to. She did not actually like what the young men were doing to her; her body just betrayed her. She was sure of it.

There was an advantage or benefit if you will for Charles, because of Charlotte's interaction with the council. Charles was no longer the subject of bullying and the constant issue if rips reduced to a trickle. If Robert Fellows, Wayne Jenkins and Steven Belfour-Brown wanted Charlotte to pleasure them three times a week, then Charles needed to be cut some slack. If he got issued a White Badge, his extra curricula activities would be curtailed and his free time would be taken up with compulsory study and extra work.

Charles was like a life support system for Charlotte. The council needed to take care of Charles to ensure that Charlotte was at hand and in a reasonable frame of mind when they wanted her Charles and Charlotte lived a simpatico existence, one could not exist without the other but they could not exist simultaneously.

After the arrangement had been in place for a few weeks, Charlotte noticed subtle changes in Robert Fellows' attitude toward her. He had always been controlling but he seemed possessive and protective of her, sometimes admonishing Steven and Wayne if in his opinion they went too far. At times he seemed almost affectionate, stroking her hair, caressing her fondly and talking to her pleasantly, sometimes even offering endearments.

Things changed dramatically one day when Charles returned to his dorm to find it vacated. Robert Fellows was in Charles' dorm lying on the bare mattress with his hands folded behind his head.