The Suitcase Ch. 01

Enjoy the story, more to come, as soon as I'm able.

It all started when I was 25. After graduating with a 2:2 degree in English from Plymouth University, I'd moved to London and gotten a job as a journalist for the Evening Standard. The pay wasn't great, and I was making next to nothing after paying off my rent, travel and living costs. I certainly didn't have enough money to go out in the evenings, so when I came home to my flat after work, I didn't have a lot to do. I couldn't afford a TV, and I'd never been much of a one for reading books. I would simply come home, grab 6 cans of warm beer, slump into an old armchair and drink them all while staring at the wall. Not much of a life.

Due to my thin wallet, I hadn't yet been able to furnish the flat. When I arrived, it had a single bed, an armchair, a very limited kitchen and a large wooden wardrobe, along with a small washroom with a bath/shower in it. On top of the wardrobe, there was an old, battered suitcase. I'd never really paid it that much attention before and had assumed it was empty, until that one, fateful night.

I'd had a hell of a day. I'd been working this journalist job for 6 months and I was still at the bottom of the food chain. I got lumped with everything at work, all the shit jobs that everyone else thought were beneath them. The more experienced writers bullied me, sabotaging my work and generally making my time at the Evening Standard a living hell. The boss was the worst, and today he'd actually beaten me over the head for spilling coffee on an important document. I sensed he was worked up because circulation was dropping, but he always took his anger out on me. I'm not physically intimidating: 5' 6" with a Beatle's style brown haircut and large blue eyes. My short and slim physique has meant I've been pushed around and bullied by people my entire life, and it made me a very easy target for my arsehole boss. I was pissed, and left work as early as I could.

When I got home, I consumed near double my usual amount of beer in my armchair, while contemplating how shit my life was. I had no friends since I hadn't kept in touch with the ones I'd made in school and at uni. I was an only child and my parents had retired and moved to Spain. I doubt they would find out if I died in my flat that evening. I was working a dead-end job with an abusive boss, I had a worthless degree, no hobbies and no money. I was stuck. Ending on this thought, I got up and stumbled toward my bedroom in the hopes of getting a good night's sleep. Coming through the door, I tripped over my own feet and fell into the side of the wardrobe. Suddenly, the old suitcase balanced on top came tumbling down and landed on top of me, bursting open and spilling its contents everywhere. Pink, black and white lace and satin covered the floor. It was a treasure trove of vintage lingerie. Corsets, slips, bras, panties, suspender belts, stockings, camisoles, heels; I was drowning in a sea of femininity. Groaning, I got up from the floor and stumbled into bed, struggling to process what had just happened, while also being concerned with the raging hard-on I now sported.

A week or so went by, and my mind kept returning to that incident, and how it had made me feel. I just couldn't shake the feeling that I was meant to find that case, but I couldn't see the reason for it. After having another day from hell, I returned to my flat, but rather than going for the beer, I instead headed into the bedroom. Reaching down the suitcase, I spread all the items out on my bed and took an inventory. I counted 3 corsets (all underbust), 5 slips, 2 camisoles, 14 pairs of panties, 7 bras, 4 6-clip suspender belts, 10 pairs of fully fashioned stockings, 2 night robes, 3 baby-dolls, 5 half-slips and 5 choices of high heels, including a pair of ballet boots. There was also a bag of make-up in the case. Composing myself, I put the suitcase down and selected my outfit.

30 minutes later, all of the items were away in my wardrobe, except from one pair of black, thigh high sheer seamed stockings attached to a black lace suspender belt, one pair of cream satin french-cut panties, a matching B-cup balconette bra, a black satin half-slip and a long, flowing black satin night robe. These were not part of the pile in my wardrobe because I was wearing them, along with a brown wig, a pair of clip-on earrings and a pearl necklace that I had kept from my days performing in drama productions at uni. I didn't put on the make-up, not because I couldn't (I had learnt a lot from amateur dramatics societies), but simply because it was getting late and I was really tired. So tired that I just couldn't keep my eyes open...

There was a bright light in my room when I woke up. I rolled over and looked at the time. Oh SHIT! It was 8:30. My alarm usually goes off an hour before that, because it takes at least 30 minutes to commute to work and I needed to be in at 9:00! I leapt out of bed, and suddenly remembered what I was wearing. Not having time to remove it all, I stripped off my night robe, wig and jewellery, thanking the gods I hadn't put on any make-up the night before. I put on my usual work clothes over the rest, feeling a slight gooeyness inside my panties and realizing that I must have came during the night. Rushing out of the door, I felt my heart-rate rising at the naughtiness of the lingerie I was wearing under my male clothes.

I got to work that day at 9:10, which prompted a tirade from my boss about responsibility. I meekly promised him it wouldn't happen again, and he told me that to make up for lost time, I would have to work late that day. That was fine with me, I had planned to stay late since I needed to do some research about the new world I was entering, and my job was the only place where I could access a computer to do it. Sated, he returned to his office, slamming the door and leaving me to get through the day. Suddenly, now that the initial thrill of underdressing had worn off, and I was sitting at my desk, I felt dread course through me. 'What if I get found out?' was a question that plagued me for the entire day, until the boss left at 5:30 and told me to work for another hour. I didn't move from my chair once, and did my best to disguise the lumps my bra was leaving in my shirt when someone came round for a conversation.

The worst point in the day came at 3:00 when my boss walked up behind me to see what I'd been working on that day. He pulled up a chair and sat really close, putting one hand on my back and leaning in to look at my computer screen. I was certain he would feel the outline of my bra under my shirt and jacket, which I had also kept on throughout the day to help conceal my misdeed. However, his behaviour didn't change, even when I felt his hand move freely across one of the straps, so I think he was concentrating more on my work than on what my back felt like.

Once the last person had left the office, I breathed a sigh of relief. I had gone the entire day undiscovered, and now had the place all to myself. I was starting to feel naughty again, and unbuttoned my shirt, letting my bra show. Getting excitedly carried away, I took off my jacket and shirt, followed by my shoes, trousers and socks. Now I was sitting, at my place of work, in nothing but panties, bra, stockings, garter belt and half-slip! I began my online research, while rubbing my clitty through my satin clothing.

I'd been researching for about an hour, looking at all kinds of shemale, crossdressing and sissy porn sites. I'd came three times and was coming up to the fourth when I heard someone shuffling around in the stairwell outside. SHIT! It must be a cleaner. I grabbed my pile of clothes and ran into my boss' office. Closing the door behind me, I snapped the lock and quickly started replacing my clothes over my feminine attire. I knew it would look suspicious if I tried to walk back to my desk. My best hope was to wait for the cleaner to leave, and then I could go home myself, without the risk of getting found out. Realizing I was in for a long wait, I sat behind the desk and put my feet up, trying not to make too much noise because the cleaner had now come into the main office space and would easily hear me.

Settling down, I decided to snoop around the desk I was sitting at, to see if the boss was sitting on any juicy stories that might give my career the boost I'd been hoping for. Quietly, I started at the top drawer and made my way down. Mostly, there were just dried-up pens, drawing pins and other items of stationery. However, what I found in the bottom drawer shocked me. In there were dozens, no, hundreds of photos. They were all quite dark, but closer inspection revealed that they were photos of young men, early to mid twenties, mostly nude, but stranger still, they were all restrained in one way or another. Some were just hand-cuffed, others wore gags and several were suspended in some kind of swing. The photos all seemed to have been taken at the same location, and some photos contained other figures, naked apart from a hood, feeding their cocks into waiting arseholes or mouths and spraying their cream over these helpless men.

What troubled me most about these images was that they turned me on. A lot. I started masturbating again, fantasizing about how much I would like to spend time in that room, but it was more than that. I didn't just want to be part of it, I realized, I wanted to be the main attraction. I wanted to be the one all trussed up and helpless, at the service of these godlike hunks with chiselled abs and throbbing cocks. I wanted to be the one being sprayed in cum, or being forced to lick a cock that's just come out of my anus. I wanted that so badly. I was prepared to do anything to get that experience.

The cleaner only took half an hour, but I stayed for another 2 before I finally finished with the pictures and went home. I set two alarms this time, and changed into fresh lingerie before falling asleep again. This time, I woke up on time and was able to do my morning yoga poses - something a girlfriend got me into at uni and I've kept at ever since. After a light breakfast of cereal, I got dressed and headed out the door. Today, I was wearing a pink satin camisole with pretty pink lacy panties as well as a pair of nude silk seamed stockings and a pink garter belt. I'd left early today since I wanted to make a stop on my way in.

Every day, on my way between the station and my office building, I pass by a shop called Erotic Fantasies. I'd only been in once or twice, claiming to be buying something for my fiancée but ending up buying nothing because I really just wanted a look inside. The shop was filled with sex paraphernalia. Dildos, whips, cuffs, rope, clamps and plenty of things I didn't recognise lined the shelves. At one end there were racks of costumes, and I imagined how pretty I'd look as a restrained maid, or a naughty secretary needing to be beaten, but the dresses far exceeded my budget of £35, which was all I'd managed to save in a week, since I'd been drinking less and less beer recently.

Having done some research, I'd quickly realised that a sissy is expected to be ready at all times to be taken, and that meant that my hole needed loosening. I'd never experimented with my anus before, and I was excited but also nervous about the experience. Believe it or not, I'd never been too sexually adventurous before. I'd only had 2 partners at uni, and I'd always just settled for vanilla, not appreciating that there was a whole other world out there just waiting for my holes. So, to get them ready, I'd decided my first order of business was to buy a butt plug and some lube. I asked the shopkeeper and he pointed me to an aisle where he was sure I could find what I was looking for. I walked in the direction he indicated, and found myself in heaven, surrounded by plugs of all shapes and sizes, and all designed to fit in my ass.

My eyes were immediately drawn to the butt plugs which had tails attached. They looked so cute, but were all a little big for me. After a lot of gazing, I found exactly the one I was looking for. It was hot pink and was covered in bumps and ridges. It was also quiet small so I shouldn't have a problem getting it in. I picked up a small bottle of lube and went to pay. The purchase came to a total of £23, so I asked the shopkeeper what I could get for my remaining £12, and he sold me a pair of fuzzy pink hand cuffs, while saying "your partner sure is a lucky woman!". I smiled at him and exited the shop, with my purchases in an unmarked plastic bag.

I got into work a few minutes early, and used that time to visit the loos and slip the plug in. When I first tried, it was surprisingly painful for such a small plug. I knew that I'd had shits bigger than this, which gave me the idea of pushing my rectum out as I pushed the toy in. PLOP! I felt the ridged plug get sucked into my hole. It was one of the most exquisite feelings I'd ever had. I was so happy I could die! Just then, I heard my boss coming into the office, so I quelled by ecstasy, pulled up my panties and hurried back to my desk to begin the day's work.

I'd been working for an hour or two when my boss stuck his head outside of his door and called me in. Slightly nervous, but more curious, I got up and walked in to find out what it was about. He motioned for me to sit opposite him, and he sat down in the chair I'd been in last night. I wondered whether I'd left something out of place, and he knew I'd been there, snooping around. I dismissed the idea though. I'd been careful to replace everything exactly. When I'd left, nothing had been out of place.

"What are you working on at the minute?" he asked, in his deep, husky voice. My boss was black. He was well-built. He was in his late forties. He was everything I wasn't, a real man.

"Well... erm... I... er.... I've... er... I've just finished this piece... on er... on local transport..." I stuttered out, my nerves betraying my under his gaze.

"Were you working on that last night?" he asked. I started to panic, thinking he knows I snooped around in here.

"Erm... er... yes er... yes I think so." This was going terribly.

"Really? And what time did you leave?" More questions, no answers.

"Er... I worked until you said. I stayed on for an hour after you left, and then I went home." That was a full sentence! I'm getting better.

"Did you get a lot of work done in that time? Or did you get distracted?" Oh no. How could he know? There aren't cameras in this place, are there?

"You see, I only ask because I was curious as to what you got up to last night, so I took the liberty of checking your computer's history. I was shocked by what I found." Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

"Do you know the punishment for watching porn at the workplace at this paper?" I shook my head, eyes downcast. "I'll tell you then. You get fired. No warning, no second chance, you will be asked to clear your desk and leave. That's what you get for watching porn in this building. And boy did you watch a lot. Such an interesting genre you chose too. Tell me, are you a sissy bimbo slut?"

I worked up the courage to speak. "Absolutely not. I have no idea what you are..."

"Shut up." He said. Rising out of his chair, he walked round the desk and faced me. "Shut up and take your clothes off."

I don't know why I did it, but I did. I stood, and removed my jacket, shirt and trousers, handing each item to my boss. When I handed my trousers to him, he felt their weight and soon found the pair of cuffs I had bought earlier in the pocket. Grinning, he moved behind me and cuffed my wrists behind my back. I looked up at his face. He had a hungry grin, as if I were his lunch, all packed and ready to be eaten. I had never felt so turned on in my life, and I knew there would be no going back. I was a sissy slut and I had found a Daddy to take care of me.

To be continued...