Saturday the 14th (Emmy)

SPOILER ALERT!!

This story is a continuation of my 5 part series 'Friday the 13th'.

To gain maximum understanding and enjoyment of this story I would advise you to read that series first.

My thanks go to ShyGirlWhore for her editing assistance.

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So Here I am! Waiting...

To say that I had feelings of trepidation and anxiety would not even come close to adequately describing the fear that coursed through my veins at this very moment. However, there was a distinct dichotomy between those feelings and the anticipation and exhilaration of being on the verge of my ultimate fantasy of being truly dominated and placing myself under the total control of a third party for sexual pleasure.

I had rung the bell to my Stepdaughters flat about 20 seconds ago, at 11am, as I was instructed yesterday, and I could now see a dark shape approaching from the other side of the frosted glass in the door, along with the distinctive click of high heels.

As instructed I wore the same attire as yesterday, when she found me tied to the bed in my own bedroom at home. As soon as my wife left shortly after 9 this morning for her girl's day out, I squeezed myself into the tight rubber pants and caressed and coerced my erection into the attached penis sheath, leaving the anal sheath tucked loose inside the back. My penis is still semi-erect inside the rubber tube, which was safely tucked inside the lacy black knickers, with red piping, that were pulled on over the top of the sheer, black, 15 denier seamed stockings which were themselves attached to a black and red boned, satin basque with 6 fasteners. I ensured that the seams were dead straight and centred as the one thing I had quickly ascertained was that my stepdaughter is a stickler in all things.

I then put on, over the top of the undergarments, my wife's short, black, low cut mini-dress that I had been wearing yesterday. Not wanting the humiliation of being seen in the street, a man in women's clothing and being cat-called and abused, I threw on a pair of beige chino's, a pale blue polo shirt and a pair of trainers. I had the 5" stiletto heeled, black, patent leather court shoes and my ski sock 'boobs' in a small rucksack along with the posture collar and ball gag, and also the wrist and ankle cuffs that had remained attached to my appendages when she left.

My journey here had been uneventful except for the fact that I found a new source of arousal, hence the half rigid state of my penis which I was fully expecting to be completely flaccid by now. Having only worn my wife's clothes for self-bondage and around the house, whilst doing chores, I had never before found it necessary, or had it cross my mind, to wear my street clothes over the top of hers. As soon as I stood up and started walking I discovered a frisson of sexual excitement on my legs from the interaction of my trousers on the sheer nylon of the stockings. With every step I took the two materials rubbed together and created the erotic sensation of a gentle caress on my thighs, particularly the sensitive inner area. In addition to this, the suspender straps were also being held against my upper thighs and were adding to my arousal as they, too, played across my skin with every step. The feelings continued as I operated the pedals of the car whilst driving, right up to the point where I stopped in the street around the corner from my daughters flat. It was the nearest I could find an empty parking bay and even that short walk had heightened my arousal. It was only now that I had come to a halt that the sensations subsided and my erection began to flag.

The door opened and there she stood in what I can only be described as a gloriously sexual outfit. My flagging penis again began to resurrect its interest, as I was faced with a vision in scarlet! Her bright red seamed stockings encased her perfectly shaped and proportioned legs and stretched from her 6" stiletto patent court shoes in pillar box red to an inch or so below the hem of an equally scarlet micro mini dress, leaving a band of bare flesh above the stocking tops traversed on each leg by three, one inch wide suspender straps in a bright crimson hue. The dress itself clung to her every curve and emphasized what must have been a corset cinched, narrow waist before coming to a halt at a very low cut inverted arch displaying an impressively deep décolletage. Her breasts were obviously manoeuvred into this fine position by a perfectly designed and fitted brassiere which lifted and compressed them but was itself cut low enough to remain hidden beneath the scoop of the dresses body.

Above this elegantly sensual display of powerful allure her make-up was incongruously sluttish. She wore scarlet lipstick and gloss, above which she had administered a heavy application of a crimson blusher. An equally bright red cosmetic on her eyelids, and long false eyelashes of the same colour, made her eyes stand out in a fiery glare below eyebrows that were thickly accentuated in black. Her hair was strapped into a pony tail by two inches of what appeared to be a strip of leather in cherry red.

"Oh! Dad! I wasn't expecting you this morning." She exclaimed in a truly surprised manner. "I'm a bit busy today and I'm waiting for someone else to arrive." She looked up and down the street as she continued, "And it looks like she's late!"

"But you asked me to be here at eleven." The confusion came through clearly in my voice.

"I don't recall that," she replied.

"You told me yesterday afternoon after you caught me..."

"Don't be daft, Dad, I haven't seen you since last Sunday." She cut me off in mid sentence.

What can she be playing at, I thought. She gave me clear instructions yesterday to be here at eleven and now she's refusing to even acknowledge that she saw me yesterday.

"Look, Dad, I don't mean to be rude but I have business with Emmy, if she bothers to turn up, so unless it's really important it'll have to wait until another day."

Suddenly realisation dawned on me. She was waiting for Slave M and here I was dressed as 'me'.

"Sorry, but I really must go. See you next week." And with that she stepped back inside and closed the door.

It was obviously expected of me that I embarrass myself by walking the street in the very manner I was attempting to avoid. As a woman! I looked around in a semi panicked state. Her flat was one of those Georgian 'upstairs-downstairs' places that had been converted into apartments. The steps that approached the front door formed a bridge across a gap below that allowed light into the windows of what would have been the servants basement area. There were also tradesman steps down to this area and that is where I quickly decided I would go to metamorphose into 'Emmy', as she had called her, or was that me?

Having descended the stairs, I noticed that I was best hidden from the street by moving under the centre of the bridge caused by the steps to the front door. I also noticed with some curiosity that the windows to the left half of the basement area had been blacked out from the inside with some kind of paint.

As soon as I was sequestered away beneath the steps I opened my rucksack and took out the black stilettos. I removed my trainers and divested myself of my chinos and polo shirt and swapped them for the ski socks in the bag. After slipping my stockinged feet into the shoes I inserted my somewhat lumpy 'breasts' into the basque cups and straightened the little black dress, pulling down the hem as far as it would go. Despite my best efforts with the dress, and hitching up my stockings as far as possible, my stocking tops were still on display and as I walked I knew I would also be flashing some bare thigh as the dress rode up.

This all took about three minutes after which I picked up my now bulging rucksack and made my way unsteadily up the stone stairs. It was only a short distance from the top of the stairs and up the steps back to the front door but I felt so exposed. Without a wig or make up to at least attempt a female façade my obvious male countenance and haircut, in what can only be described as a sexy little black get-up, was inviting abuse!

As I made my way up the final few steps to the front door one of the cars driving past tooted. When I glanced over my shoulder I saw a young man making a 'limp wrist' gesture out of the window and laughing. This was exactly what I had feared; being recognised as a cross dresser and pilloried. It didn't matter that the guy didn't know me from Adam, or that we would probably never meet again, the embarrassment was still agonising. All I could do now was ring the doorbell and hope for a quick answer. It wasn't a particularly quiet street with the cars and a number of people passing by on foot as I waited, some of whom noticed me and either stared, smiled or tutted.

It was well over a minute before I heard the frustratingly slow clicking of my daughter's heels approaching on the tiled floor of the hallway behind the door. Then, horror of horrors, the postman bounded up the steps with a handful of mail and my sexy clothing caught his eye as he no doubt initially thought he had come across a young girl in a provocative outfit. Our gazes met and I immediately turned my back on him as I felt my face instantly reddening. It was absolutely clear to him at such close range that I was not a woman and he gave me a long slow wolf whistle. I was mortified! The clicking of the heels behind the door had stopped and as I quickly glanced sideways I could see a shape behind the frosted glass panel. She had also obviously seen the two shapes on this side of the door and had deliberately stopped in order to increase my discomfort.

"Well hello there, babe." the postie uttered with obvious sarcasm. "For a bloke you sure cut a damn fine figure of a tart! Best thing I've seen all week, that's for sure." He pushed the mail through the letterbox and I could feel him eyeing me up and down as he turned to leave. "Yep! Damn fine! See you round, gorgeous." he stated with a chuckle as he skipped back down the steps on his way to the next house.

Finally, the door opened and there she stood again in all her seductive glory but this time with a mocking smile on her ruby red lips.

"You're late!" She exclaimed. "Get inside now! And put those letters on that table." She indicated a small antique style table sat against the wall of the communal hallway.

"Yes Mistress." I muttered in reply as I complied with her instructions.

She led me down the corridor, both our sets of heels clacking on the marble tiles, and into the grey slate tiled hallway of her ground floor apartment. Once inside she closed the front door and turned to me with a fierce glower on her face.

"I see six misdemeanours before I even try." She said. "No collar! No gag! No cuffs! Yesterday I distinctly recall ordering you to appear before me dressed EXACTLY as I left you. Not a very good start, is it Emmy?"

"No Mistress." I mumbled.

"What!", She barked as she reddened my left cheek with a stinging slap. "My ears should never have to strain to hear your pathetic whimpering."

"No Mistress." I repeated loudly and clearly, having already learned my lesson.

"Go to my bedroom and dress yourself properly. I'll be along in a minute."

I turned down the hallway towards her room and received a hard shove in my back which forced me to stumble and fall to the floor as I was in no way proficient in walking in heels. I only ever used to totter around the house slowly completing the day's chores.

"Get up, you pathetic wretch. Along with everything else do I have to teach you how to walk as well?"

In her bedroom I sat on the bed and pulled all the missing items out of the rucksack and began putting them on. First the ankle cuffs and wrist cuffs, followed by the collar and finally the ball gag.

"Stand up!" She commanded as she entered the room. "Who said you could sit?"

"NngGdy Mffshrrfff. Shhrry Mffshrrfff." I mumbled into my gag, as I quickly stood.

She then proceeded to check all the items I had just fitted and tightened every single one of them. The cuffs now held my ankles and wrists in a vice like grip, the collar was so tight I found it hard to swallow and the ball gag stretched my jaw fully open and held my tongue firmly at the base of my mouth. Despite the additional restrictiveness of this equipment, or probably entirely due to it, my penis had begun to fill the rubber pouch in my pants.

"That's how tight they should be. Remember it for next time." Mistress instructed. "Now, take off your dress."

I immediately complied and was quickly standing in front of my Mistress wearing only my wife's lingerie with the LBD crumpled around my feet and my rubber encased penis pushing gently against the lace of the black and red knickers.

"Now put that on," She indicated a dress lying on the bed. "and then come over here." She sat on the stool at her dressing table and waited whilst I donned the dress I had retrieved from her bed. It was not the easiest task to complete as I was prevented from moving my head in pretty much any direction due to the tightness of the posture collar I was wearing.

The dress was a classic French Maids outfit in black polyester and nylon that had that fake satin sheen to it. It was a mini and there was an integral slip that flared the skirt out at about a 45 degree angle which had the effect of further shortening the dress thereby displaying the tops of my stockings and an inch or so of thigh. The sleeves were short and ruched, there was an attached mini apron at the front and the whole ensemble was edged with a thin strip of white lace. Under the dress, on the bed, there was also a long blonde wig which I presumed I was also required to wear and put in place on my head. By now my penis was again solid and straining against the lace of my wife's knickers. I returned to Mistress as instructed and stood in front of her.

She glared up at me and grabbed my penis and squeezed hard. "Kneel!" Mistress commanded as she pulled my genitalia downwards without mercy. I collapsed to my knees, hurting them on the floor with the force of the landing and letting out a muffled grunt as I did so. "Put these in and I'll sort out your make-up. Take note and learn. I will not be applying your cosmetics again."

She handed me a pair of bright blue, cosmetic contact lenses that I found extremely difficult to insert, again because of the collar restricting the movement of my head. After this she applied foundation to my face and stuck a pair of long false eyelashes to my lids. This was followed with some eye-liner, blusher and lipstick and finally the wig was secured with a few strategically placed hairpins. After this she opened a drawer and pulled out two opaque, jelly type blobs. She reached inside my dress and corset, removed the lumpy ski sock 'breasts' and discarded them on her bed. This was when I realised that the hemispheres of 'jelly' she had retrieved were proper false breast made from silicone gel. She inserted these into the now vacant cups, manoeuvred them around until they were correctly placed before tidying up the front of my dress, leaving me with quite an impressive C-cup 'breasts'.

Upon her instruction I turned to look in the mirror and was surprised to see a not bad looking busty, blue eyed blonde woman staring back. I have to admit that under entirely different circumstance I may well have asked her for a date!

"Follow me." Mistress ordered and led me out of her bedroom and back down the hallway to a cupboard next to the kitchen door. She opened the cupboard and I saw inside various mops, brooms and a vacuum cleaner above which, on a shelf, sat a large collection of cleaning paraphernalia.

"First you will take the spray polish and cloth and polish all the furniture surfaces. Then you will clean and disinfect all the kitchen surfaces with the antiseptic spray. Finally, you will sweep all the hard floors, mop the kitchen floor and hoover the soft floors. You have one hour!"

It isn't a particularly large apartment so that was really all it took, though I did have to work quickly. Once I had completed my tasks Mistress attached a dog lead to my wrist cuffs, holding my arms together in front of me, stood up and led me out of her bedroom, down the hall and towards the front door of her apartment. I began panicking as she opened her front door and pulled back on the lead. I really didn't want to be led down the street like this! It was bad enough having to walk ten feet in the street in women's clothing, but not dressed as a French Maid, fitted with bondage gear and led on a dog chain. NO WAY!

She immediately tugged the lead hard and I again nearly fell. "You will follow me, slave, or I will lock you into these contraptions, throw you into the street and leave you there, like this, to make your own way home. Do you understand?"

"Efff Mffshrrfff." I mumbled as I cast my eyes to the floor. At least a walk round the block or up and down the street was better than making my way home in this state.

However, upon exiting her flat I was massively relieved when Mistress turned away from the main door and made her way to another internal door under the stairs at the opposite end of the corridor. She unlocked the door, entered and led me down some stone stairs into an already lit basement. What I saw upon turning the corner at the bottom of the stairs astounded me! The area was about 30' by 60' and held a number of bondage, torture and, confinement devices. The walls were lined with racks and shelves containing whips, paddles, clips & clamps, wound ropes & chains, assorted reels of tape and cuffs & shackles of all shapes and sizes. In the centre of the room stood a female with her cuffed arms held over her head, attached to a bolt in the ceiling by a length of chain.

She cut a very sexy figure wearing a skin tight, black rubber cat suit with similar elbow length gloves and patent 6" stiletto heeled knee high boots also in, you guessed it, black. So sensual, in fact, that my penis, which had flagged again during the application of my make-up, was yet again beginning to refill its sheath. I would have loved to have seen what she looked like but her head was covered by a rubber hood with an integrated blow up gag and breathing tube and what seemed to be tinted eyepieces. The whole ensemble had obviously been rubbed down with some sort of liquid to bring out in the most beautiful shine. She turned slowly towards us, hanging as she was from the chain that gave her barely enough slack to reach the ground.

Mistress introduced us. "Emmy, meet Effy. Effy, meet Emmy. Now that I have two of you, things will be much easier and I can have so much more fun with two personal slave girls."

I was led over to a padded saw horse and instructed to stand astride one end and clip my ankle cuffs to the eyebolts screwed into the bottom of each leg. Mistress pushed me face down onto the horse and secured my wrist cuffs to similar hooks on the other two legs. She then proceeded to strap my body to the top of the saw horse with a wide leather belt across the small of my back. I heard her heels click as she walked away, behind me, towards the wall I knew to be covered in her apparatus of torment.

After a few seconds she returned and I felt the skirts of my uniform moved up and onto my back. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that Effy was looking in our direction as she hung from her chain.

"Right!" Mistress exclaimed. "You most definitely need to be taught how to behave as a slave should." She was obviously addressing me. "Effy learned long ago how to serve and obey me and has come along admirably. There is almost nothing she wouldn't do if commanded by me and you need to very quickly reach the same point. Therefore, it is imperative that you be punished for any and all misdemeanours. We will start with your tardy arrival. You were six minutes late, so we'll start with those six, shall we?"