He Shall Go to the Ball

Charlotte's nickname among the wags at university was the Duchess, but it was only when I saw her parents' house that I realised that it was based in truth.

The approach to the front porch, through a gatehouse and avenue of poplars, took five minutes on my bicycle. By the time I reached the colonnaded portico I was in awe and a little out of breath. It was the final stretch of a seven-mile journey from the nearest station and I was regretting having made it in my rented dinner suit.

I rang the bell and shifted uneasily from one foot to another in shoes that were some way from being worn in. I could see no other party guests and anxiously guessed that turning up early had been a mistake.

The statuesque woman who answered the door put me at my ease. "You must be Robert," she said. "I'm sorry about the dressing gown. The staff are all busy in the kitchen and you caught me getting dressed."

She extended a hand. "Anna. I'm Charlotte's mother. Come."

She beckoned me and the way into a hall, the tails of her silk gown billowing behind. She called for her daughter. "Darling, your first guest has arrived."

Charlotte's voice came back irritably. "I'm not ready, mummy. Tell them to wait."

Anna smiled and gestured for me to go up the stairs.

"I'm sending him up. I don't think he's ready, either."

To me: "Down the corridor, third on the right."

I meant to ask whether it would be better if I waited downstairs, but she was insistent. "See you at the party," she said.

When I reached Charlotte's bedroom she was clothed in splendour and sitting at her dressing table, peering at herself as she glossed her lips. My knowledge of period costume is sketchy at best, but if I had to guess I would say that her dress was of the sort you might have seen on Marie Antoinette.

Charlotte didn't turn round but glanced at me in the mirror. "Robert, I might have known," she said. "Fashionably early, are we?"

I started to apologise but she spoke again. "Don't worry. It's just as well. The other guests will be arriving soon and you don't want them to see you like that."

She looked amused. I blushed. The invitation had said that the dress code for the ball was "finery" and I immediately thought of black tie.

"Dinner jackets are for dinners, darling. If you're going to be all straight about it then you should at least have gone for white tie and tails."

She got up and strode towards me. I made a half step towards her to kiss her on the cheek but she gave me a gentle push with a lace-gloved hand as she walked past me to the door.

"Mummy" she called. "Have we got one of Olly's tailcoats?"

"He's taken everything with him to Scotland," Anna called back, referring, I guessed, to Charlotte's older brother. "Is it for Robert? I may have something for him."

Charlotte sighed. "Come on, then," she said to me. I trailed after her along the corridor to her mother's bedroom. "In there. I'm going to finish getting ready."

I crossed the threshold and waited. Anna was out of sight in an adjoining bathroom. "Tell him to take off the dinner suit," she said.

I hesitantly took off my jacket and cummerbund, shoes and socks. I deliberated over the rest and decided to remove the trousers but keep my shirt and boxer shorts.

"Have a look in the top drawer," she said, still invisible. "There should be something suitable in there."

I was about to explain that Charlotte had gone but decided to look in the drawer. It was heavy and stiff and when I got it moving it came suddenly and spilt its contents to the floor.

Dozens of pairs of knickers fell at my feet. I crouched to gather them up, blushing at the intimacy of it.

I could tell they were expensive. As I put them back I felt the silk and lace between my fingertips. It was a sense of the forbidden that I couldn't help but find arousing. I got the last pair in and realised as I stood up to replace the drawer that my excitement was showing.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," Anna said. The auburn wave of her hair was now held up by a tiara. "My husband's regimental clothing is in that top drawer over there."

She pointed to another chest of drawers by the door. Sheepishly I went over and found within a pair of dress uniform trousers, but as soon as I stepped into them I could tell they were far too tight.

"Alright," she said. "Plan B. Take them off. And the shirt."

I did as instructed and waited in my underwear while she rummaged in her chest of drawers. She approached me with something black and stiff in her hand that she passed around my back. She pulled it tight and hooked together the first fastening on the corset, working efficiently from top to bottom.

"Lottie, come and give me a hand with this," she called to her daughter.

"I don't think..." I said but stopped as Anna sharply tugged down my boxer shorts. She laughed and gave a gentle shove on my chest, causing me to take a step back. She flicked my pants away with her foot.

"Which ones did you like?" she asked. She held out two pairs of knickers: a pair of full briefs, plain but shocking pink, and some yellow boy shorts with lace panels. Both were satin. "You lingered over both of these, I think. Perhaps the pink will hide this a bit better."

She draped them over my stiff cock. I could hear the approach of Charlotte's footsteps. Anna glanced meaningfully at the doorway. "Chop chop," she said.

Hurriedly I put the knickers on as Charlotte turned the corner.

She entered and shook her head. "Mummy, no."

"But Robert doesn't mind, do you?" Anna asked. Before I could answer she tweaked the taut front panel of the knickers. Her boldness made me gasp.

Charlotte exhaled sharply. "It's better than that rented dinner jacket, I suppose. Let's get on with it, then. But no more teasing, please." I couldn't tell whether she was aiming her remark at her mother or me.

She went behind and pulled forcefully at the lacing at the back of the corset, tugging each of the criss-crossing cords to squeeze my abdomen into an hourglass shape. Anna produced a pair of silk stockings, bunched them and rolled one up each leg. Charlotte attached them to the suspenders dangling from the corset.

I was mortified, but managed to speak as mother and daughter argued over which ballgown would work best. "Please, stop," I said. "I don't want to wear this stuff."

Charlotte snapped at me. "Where did you learn your manners? Do you talk to your mummy like that?"

Both were looking at me sternly. Charlotte spoke again. "What do you say?"

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"The staff are dressed smarter than you were," she continued. "Don't you think you should be more grateful?"

"Thank you."

"Now ask nicely for your dress."

Anna held up a shimmering black satin high-necked gown with puff sleeves, tapered waist and a flowing A-line skirt. In her other hand was a red and black polka-dotted flamenco dress, tight from shoulder to knee and with generous ruffles at the hem and sleeves.

"The plain one," I said, adding quickly: "Please."

I knelt on command and raised my arms. The soft lining slid over my head and shoulders and the skirts gathered around me on the floor. My arms popped into the sleeves. As I stood up, Anna pulled the zip that drew the bodice tightly against me.

The women admired me for a few moments till the silence was broken by the sound of the doorbell. Charlotte swept out of the room.

"Finish him off, mummy," she said.

Anna found a plain black hat with a lacy veil that she arranged carefully over my face. She suggested that I put my own shoes on given that she had nothing else for me. People might see them as a fashion statement.

"How does that feel?" she asked when she had finished.

I felt silly, but did not want to say anything that might cause more trouble.

She bent down to lift my skirts and check the state of my knickers. She found that my arousal had not subsided at all. She pensively held a finger to her lips and used her other hand to fondle me through the fabric. I stared at her wide-eyed as her touch sent shocks of pleasure through me.

The sensations intensified, doubling, redoubling. Paralysed by embarrassment I longed for her to make me come. I was so close. Just a few more strokes. Every time I felt the rush begin she would alter her rhythm. I was on the edge once again when she stopped.

"I think it's time we joined the party," she said, withdrawing her hand suddenly. She ushered me out of the room and downstairs to where the guests had gathered. She introduced me to a group of women and asked them to look after me.

While she spoke I caught a glance at myself in the hall mirror. The veil hid some of my blushing face and I was grateful for the way the dress and knickers concealed my arousal.

One of group, Becca, a plump woman whose own corset was part of a steam punk ensemble of black silk and lace, took me under her wing. "Don't worry," she said. "I'll protect you."

My fears about the party subsided gently under her guidance. Several other men had come in drag and my costume prompted little comment beyond the occasional compliment.

When a flamboyant man made a suggestive comment during the course of a group discussion, Becca intervened. "Oh, he's with me," she said. As she did so, she ran her hand up the back of my skirt, tracing my inner thigh, and rested it on my knickers.

She kept it there and waited for the man to move on. "A necessary precaution when he's around," she said, her palm cupping me still. "Perhaps you should thank me?"

I did so. She looked dissatisfied. I thanked her more profusely.

"Not in words, dummy," she said. She scratched her fingernails on the fabric. I sighed audibly but felt desperate not to make a scene. She didn't stop even when Anna approached.

"It's lovely to see you two getting on so well," Anna said.

I dared not speak in case my voice trembled with the excitement Becca was causing. She spoke for me while massaging her fingertips more thoroughly. "He's doing so well, Anna. And he looks good enough to eat."

I prayed for Anna to move on but she stared at me as a blush spread from my cheeks down to my neck. My lips parted and I closed my eyes while Becca glided her hand expertly back and forth.

"Well, there's going to be cake soon," Anna said. "Cook has done a wonderful job. Why don't you two love-birds take a look." She nodded to a door behind her.

Becca guided me the parlour, which was empty save for a tower of profiteroles on a sturdy oak table. She kissed me, holding me against the table while her hands worked at me in earnest. Her strokes swept over the fabric, teasing me from back to front, bottom to tip.

I was panting loudly now. I was terrified that other guests might wander in.

I closed my eyes and pleaded with Becca to stop.

"Do you really want me to stop?" she asked. My gasped "yes" sounded like a cry of pleasure.

"Say 'yes' again," she said, taking me closer to the point of no return. "Just to be sure."

Every time I obliged her, she asked me to repeat. "Yes... yes... yes..."

I opened my eyes as I felt myself beginning to come. Standing before me, arms folded, was Charlotte. I couldn't control myself. I looked at her in disbelief as the first burst of my orgasm shook my body.

"Fucking hell," Charlotte said in amazement and perhaps disgust. I bucked again. This time the tip of my cock jutted out from the waistline of my knickers and a string of semen flicked across the edge of Charlotte's dress and onto the lower tier of the cake.

Yet more came, less forcefully, dribbling onto the floor.

We stood in silence till the door opened and Anna walked in with some more guests. She halted momentarily before taking charge. "I think you'd better go now, Robert darling" she said. "Have the clothes cleaned before you send them back, won't you?"

I hurried out of the room towards the front door, tucking myself back into my knickers. I had never cycled in a dress before but I pedalled through the avenue in half the time it had taken when I arrived. I looked back once at the bright windows behind me before riding tearfully away.