Sissy Husband: Honeymoon

By Jans sissy sally


Matthew and Jan were on their way to the Airport to go on their expensive four weeks honeymoon to Hawaii. There was only one more thing to do before they could leave. Jan had insisted to pay a visit to her Mother to say goodbye before the trip.
When they arrived at Linda's home matthew was alarmed when he saw his Mother's car in the driveway. They found her having coffee with Linda in the living room. Jan excused herself to use the bathroom and left Matthew alone with his Mother Blanche and Mother in Law Linda.
"We need to have a little talk, matthew," his Mother began. "Jan has informed us about what happened during your wedding night and Linda is now justifiably concerned about your ability of being a suitable husband for her daughter at all. I however assured her that you have many of redeeming traits regardless of your shortcomings in bed."
Matthew was dumbfounded. Had Jan really told them everything that happened? Shortcomings in bed?
"I… I… don't understand…" he stammered, when he remembered he had a flight to catch. "Do we really need to discuss this right now?"
"You soiled your Wife's feet with your premature ejaculation boy, and while she took a shower to clean herself from your filth you masturbated alone in bed on your wedding night. Don't you think that is a reason for concern?" his Mother replied. "You should call yourself lucky Jan has not annulled the marriage right away. We absolutely need to discuss this now to give your Mother in law some peace of mind about what sort of things you can do right. You know how we do this sort of thing, undress!"
"Do I really have to…" Matthew attempted to protest, but when his Mother snapped her fingers and said, "NOW!" he immediately went silent and began to unbutton his shirt.
She turned to Linda to explain: "Every time we have to address some issues, I had him in the nude. It makes him much more agreeable, I hope you don't mind?"
"Absolutely not," Linda replied. "And I must say that thing you do with your fingers is quite impressive, Blanche. Is that some kind of hypnosis?"
Blanche laughed. "No, this has nothing to do with hypnosis. It is his trigger to avoid the consequences of not following my instructions. It was a hard piece of work to get him conditioned that way."
"That sounds so convenient. Does it only work if you do it?"
"Not at all. He instantly reacts with silence and obedience to any random finger snapping. It takes him a couple of seconds to snap out of it and comprehend if it was even directed at him. His younger Sister did it all the time just to tease him. You may want to try yourself any time."
In the meantime Matthew had finished undressing. He had been deliberately slow because he hoped Jan would return and make them realize that they had to leave for the airport. Now he was standing naked before the two Ladies with his hands over his privates trying to retain some dignity and to hide his chastity cage.
Blance had of course noticed it regardless and pointed at his crotch. "What is that, boy?"
The moment matthew opened his mouth to answer he was interrupted by the sound of a finger snap.
"On your toes! Hands on your back! Eyes on the floor!"
He had followed all the commands before his mind even realized they did not come from his Mother but his Mother in law.
"Oh my god, it really works." Linda clapped her hands in excitement and laughed out loud. "That is incredible!"
Blance was pleasantly surprised and praised Linda's execution of the snap. With hands behind his back matthew now openly displayed the metal device that was tightly fastened and locked around his testicles keeping his penis confined in a tiny curved tube that prevented any kind of expansion or touch.
He remained silent looking down at the ground and balancing on his toes, while Linda told Blanche the story about his vow of chastity in every embarrassing detail.
"Had I ever known about these, you would have been locked since puberty boy." His Mother laughed and beckoned him over to take a closer look and assure herself of the effectivity of the device. "This is perfect," she stated after some pulling and squeezing. "Just to think about the efforts I made. I kept him tucked away in tight girdles night and day to prevent masturbation and erections. He had special mittens for the night and he would have to ask permission to use the bathroom and was not allowed to lock any doors so I or his Sister could walk in on him at any time no matter where he was in the house. Grace was especially keen to keep him on his toes. Oh the stories I could tell…"
She paused and Matthew seized the opportunity to get a word in. "Mother, we really need to get going or Jan and I will miss our plane"
"Oh, don't you worry dear. I promise you nobody will miss the plane," Blanche replied. "We are not done here yet. Now go pick up your clothes and show Linda how neatly you can fold them."
"Yes, Ma'am," Matthew replied with a hint of a sigh and began the task.
"I really enjoy how respectfully he addresses you, Blanche. I like the sound of someone his age using 'Miss' and 'Ma'am'. Of course I don't mind that he is calling me Linda, even though he never asked permission as far as I remember."
"Did you hear that matthew? Linda just told you something about herself in a very subtle way. Isn't that wonderful? That is exactly why we are having this little talk. Let's see how you can use this clue to act in a way that will please your Mother in Law."
Matthew didn't think it was subtle at all, but he knew better than to object right now. All he wanted was to get this 'talk" over with.
"I think to show your appreciation and respect, you want to address Linda by her last name from now on. Every sentence directed to her you want to begin with 'Mrs. Rivers' or end in 'Ma'am'. Or both, regardless if in private or public."
"Oh that is so sweet of you Mandy, I really appreciate that," Linda said, without considering matthew's potential opinion in the matter. "…and you folded up all your clothes so neatly too. Your mother was right, you have excellent homemaker skills."
"Of course he also knows how to wash and iron them. When he still did our laundry at home, Grace and I had him do all the delicates by hand and hang them up to dry. I also taught him how to cook and clean the house, he gives excellent massages and pedicures and you can trust him to polish your most expensive heels to perfection," his Mother added.
"That sounds like our little Mandy here would make any housewife jealous," Linda concluded.
"Isn't it nice to hear your skills are being appreciated? Did you notice Linda feels comfortable enough now to call you by a affectionate little nickname? I think we came a long way in just a few minutes and created a firm foundation on which your relationship of Mother and son in law will be able to grow on. Now remember to thank Linda for her nice words, Mandy."
Matthew didn't like the fact that both of them were calling him mandy now, but he was happy that the 'Talk' was obviously over and he didn't want to stir any more debate, so he simply said, "Thank you Mrs. Rivers, Ma'am."
"You are welcome, dear. I feel so much better now that we established your place in the family, dear. Don't you think?" Linda replied.
matthew didn't like the insinuation about his place in the family and neither did he like how both of them looked at him in anticipation of his answer. He told himself that it was only for a few more minutes and he would be out of here and he didn't want to leave for his honeymoon with his Mother in Law mad at him. He swallowed his pride and answered,
"Yes, Mrs. Rivers"
Both Ladies smiled and gave each other a knowing look. "I believe this calls for a little celebration!" Linda suggested. "Drinks anyone?"
"That is a wonderful idea!" Blanche agreed. "Mandy makes excellent Margaritas from scratch."
"Come on then sweetie, i'll show you the kitchen," Linda said and walked off, obviously expecting him to follow.
Matthew his Mother a desperate look extending his hand at the the folded clothes on the table, hoping she would give him permission to get dressed again.
"You are the one who is in a hurry boy," she said instead. "You may get dressed while we are having the drinks, now don't make Linda wait."
But Linda was already waiting when he entered the kitchen. A pair of shoes in one hand and a apron in the other. "Here are some house shoes for you so you don't get cold feet on the tiled kitchen floor."
They were pink velvet ballerina flats with a hard sole and a big decorative bow across the toes. "Don't give me that look, I don't have any others," Linda said when he hesitated for a second.
They felt very small, but having his Mother in law towering over him, tapping her heels impatiently while he was crouching nude on the floor to slip into a pair of tiny girly shoes made him feel so intimidated that he didn't dare to complain about the size. He just struggled to squeeze his feet into them regardless.
"See? They will do just fine for you," Linda said and added, "What do we say?"
He instantly replied, "Thank you Mrs. Rivers, Ma'am."
"Better," she remarked with obvious resentment in her voice. As soon as he was done with the shoes she slipped the apron over his head. "We don't want you to mess yourself up, do we? Turn around."
It was an old fashioned pinafore style with wide ruffled shoulder straps and hem. It closed behind from his neck to his lower back, leaving his buttocks exposed and framed in ruffles as the sides extended down to the front of his knees. Linda zipped him up and tied several additional ribbons into pretty bows on his back. When Matthew thought she was finally done he felt something being slipped over his forehead. He was so surprised that he instinctively reached up, which earned him a slap on the fingers. "Don't touch it. I don't want any hair in my drink," she stated in a tone that allowed for no debate. Checking himself in the reflective surface of the glass cupboard it appeared to be a turban style headband, matching his shoes in color and style with the decorative bow twice as big on his forehead.
After Linda had shown him all the ingredients, she pointed at a silver tray and said, "When you are done stay as you are and serve the cocktails to us in the living room." Before she left him alone, she kept tapping her heels impatiently until he remembered to say, "Yes Mrs. Rivers," again, which she commented with, "We will need to work on that."
Matthew hurried to get the drinks ready. He heard some excited laughter coming from the living room and, to his relief, Jan's voice eventually joined in. That made him feel relieved and he prepared one more glass for her. Now they would be as as good as out of here.
Little later he carried the tray with the drinks out of the kitchen accompanied by the delicate sounds the shoes made on the hardwood floor. His feet were aching but he was happy to find everyone in high spirits. "It was fantastic, Mom," Jan just said with her back to him.
"The drinks are ready, Ladies," he declared and presented the tray. Jan turned around and burst into laughter "Oh my God, you look adorable!" she said when she finally caught herself, Blanche agreed wholeheartedly. They made him turn around a few times and he swallowed their humiliations quietly.
"You know, that these used to be my shoes and headband Blanche?" she revealed and turned back to matthew. "I can't believe they fit you! I had them when I was like sixteen!"
Blanche snapped her fingers indicating that he was supposed to serve the drinks and he walked up to each of the Women. They all took their cocktail with the words: "Thank you, mandy."
There was one margarita left, since matthew had made one for himself as well, but before he could set the tray down to take it someone snached it from behind. Matthew looked and his heart sank even lower when he saw Mark, Linda's young lover. Where did he suddenly come from? He was the last person matthew wanted to see him like that.
Mark sneered at him, raised his drink and said, "Thank you mandy."
"You remember Mark?" Linda said. "He was your best man and even took care of your bride most of the evening when you wouldn't dance with her. I don't think I ever heard you thanking him."
Matthew didn't say anything, he refused to thank Mark for the humiliations he had to endure at the wedding.
"Don't be like that sweetie," Jan said, "Mark really was a perfect gentlemen at the reception, pitching in while you spent most of the evening at the Bridesmaids table. You should show some gratitude."
Matthew clenched his teeth, and finally said, "Thank you, Mark."
Blanche remarked, "He is your Mother in Law's boyfriend. Address him properly like I taught you to address my boyfriends!"
One deep breath later Matthew uttered, "Thank you, Master Mark."
Mark pinched him in his cheek and sneered, "You're welcome, doll."
Everyone finished their drinks while having some pleasant conversation. Except matthew just stood there disregarded, trying not to break into tears.
"Well, I better be going now," Blanche suddenly said, "and our young lovers better hurry to catch their plane too I suppose."
"Be a dear, take these back to the kitchen and clean up the mess you made, while I say goodbye to your Mother and Jan," Linda said when everyone had put their glasses back on the tray.
Matthew didn't even have time to open his mouth as his Mother anticipated his answer. "You may as well remove the word "no" from your vocabulary son. If Linda asks you a favor you will smile and do whatever she wants you to. And I better never hear any of the contrary. I hope you understand? Now show us how it's done."
Matthew forced himself to smile and say, "Yes, Mrs. Rivers," before he headed for the kitchen.
"I'll be there in a minute," she stated as he walked out.
For the past few minutes since he had been made to thank Mark, matthew had felt like in a daze. Just now he started to regain his senses. Finally it was over. He placed the cocktail glasses in the dishwasher, put all the ingredients back in the cupboards and wiped the countertops. There would be nothing to complain about, nothing that would give anyone any reason to delay this any longer. He wouldn't wait for Linda to come in either. He was done and he would get dressed. It was time to leave.
As he walked back into the living room, it was empty. Everyone was gone and even his clothes had disappeared from the table. His shoes, his watch, his wallet, everything.
"Didn't I tell you to stay in the kitchen?" Linda said. She had just come back in through the front door.
"Where is everyone?" Matthew asked.
Linda raised her finger. "What do we say?"
"Where is everyone, Ma'am?" Matthew corrected himself.
"They are gone, of course. Your Mother went home, and Jan and Mark are off to Hawaii. It's only the two of us now."
"But…"
Linda snapped her fingers and matthew stopped talking. "It was really your Mother who suggested that you would be no fun for Jan during the honeymoon, when she heard how useless you turned out to be in bed. All of us agreed of course and I offered Mark as a stand in, because he is an excellent lover. They actually had sex upstairs just now, while you demonstrated your homemaking skills to us down here. Jan was completely blown away."
Matthew realized what Jan had been so excited about when he served the cocktails.
"She will have a wonderful time with sex any time of the day she wants to. I instructed Mark specifically to tend to her every whim. He carries your wallet, as we figured your Wife should be spoiled with your money since you are the husband after all."
"Which brings us to your part in the plan and why you will be going along with it. I promised Jan I would turn you into a perfect little housekeeper for her, so you will be staying with me for the whole time. Fortunately you already received a solid foundation of useful skills by your Mother's wonderful upbringing. We will take this further and I will personally train you to be a ladies maid. I will also teach other important techniques you will need to keep my daughter from divorcing you."
She walked over to sit in the big comfortable chair in the corner of the living room.
"You see mandy, you really have every reason to be grateful, don't you? And I will make sure you show me that gratitude every single day. You will remain locked up for the whole duration of your time here and you will learn ways to bring a Woman pleasure that don't require your useless little thing."
"Now Before you say anything, I want you to think carefully what your first words to me should be. Remember, you have nothing right now. Your clothes are gone, so is your money, your ID, the car, the keys to your home as well as the ones to your chastity device. You have no place to go and your own Wife, your Mother and even your Sister support this approach. Nobody will help you. You are under my complete control, and there is nothing you can do about it."
She pointed at the floor in front of her. "Now I want you to come over here and get on your knees. We are going find out about your foot massage skills," she said as she crossed her legs.
Matthew stared in disbelief, as he still tried to wrap his mind around everything he had just been told.
Linda snapped her fingers. "Now!"
Matthew walked over to her in his painfully small pink velvet shoes, dressed in a frilly pinafore and little girl's headband. He dropped to his knees before his Mother in law's feet.
"You may give my heels a little kiss on the toe before you take them off, Mandy," she said.
"Thank you, Mrs. Rivers," he answered.

Sissy Husband: Wedding

 By Jans sissy sally

It all began the morning of the ceremony when instead of a tuxedo a different kind of suit was delivered to the hotel by mistake.
The suit's black velvet jacket had slightly puffed sleeves, was taken in at the waist and had a single polished gold button holding it together. It came with a shiny silk blouse, a ribbon bowtie around a ruffled collar and a tiny velvet veil cap with a large black bow. The pants were velvet hiphugger leggings.
There was no time to change it and cancelling the wedding was not an option for Jan. She was not joking when she told him he would wear either that suit or her dress instead.
Matthew had never felt so very embarrassed in his life no matter how many times Jan and Linda assured him that nobody would notice while they helped him to get him into the ensemble.
To make his body match the contoured clothes, nis Bride and Mother in Law made a combined effort to lace him into the provided waist cincher as tightly as possible. The fact that he was hardly able to breathe was casually ignored by each of them.
While they dressed him in the blouse and jacket Matthews Mother and Sister entered to say hello before the ceremony. They were affectionately welcomed by Jan and Linda and did neither seem to be shocked nor surprised by Matthews outfit.
His Mother gave him a pitiful look as if she had expected nothing else anyway, while his Sister remarked, "The shoes don't match little brother," looking at the black wingtips next to him on the floor. She was three years younger than him, but she always called him little brother ever since she outgrew him.
"The heels that came with the suit don't fit," Jan joked, "we already tried."
"What a shame," his Mother snidely remarked, "you could have been as tall as your bride, if she was wearing flats."
Everyone was excited by the idea and Jan assured him she wouldn't mind wearing low heels. When matthew attempted to point out that it could be him minding to wear heels, he was muted by a single "hush" of his Mother snapping her fingers and pointing at the floor. He immediately stopped talking and lowered his head. Jan and Linda gave her an impressed look.
"He can wear mine," his sister suggested to break the sudden moment of silence. "My size will fit him in hose."
"Is that a fact?" Lindas asked, obviously curious.
"Yes, I used to dress him up all the time when we were little... I mean HE was little" She chuckled at the thought "ever since i discovered my old dresses would fit him, he was like my favorite little doll to play with."
She sat down to take off her heels. They were beautiful black Louboutins with ankle straps.
"We had them for years. They used to be Mom's until I begged her long enough to give them to me."
"But they look like new," Jan marveled.
"Oh yes, all our shoes are very well maintained, aren't they matthew? He must have buffed and polished them a million times. Mom was always very particular about shoe care. I remember coming home so many times to find him standing sobbing in the corner with sore buttocks and nothing but a pair of heels on his feet that had failed to meet Her standards. He may even have worn these before."

Jan and Linda were absolutely fascinated by these revelations and the Women decided they would all get together one day and talk about how matthew grew up.
"He can prepare snacks and serve drinks, it will just be like the sunday afternoons with my bridge club," his Mother suggested while wrapping garters around matthews waist for the stockings he would need to wear with his Sisters heels.
"It may be be the only time in your life she is not looking down on you," Linda teased once they stood next to each other fully dressed.
The tight leggings ending above his ankles did nothing to hide the heels and the red sole served as the perfect eyecatcher.

"Now that he is wearing something old and something new, he will need something borrowed," his Mother said, taking off her pearl brooch and pinning it to his lapel. "And something blue!" his Sister added while she was attaching the little veil cap to his hair.
"Don't worry," said Jan, "he is already wearing something very blue," playfully clutching his crotch with a knowing smile.
The Women in the room all burst into laughter at the gesture and Matthews bowed head turned beet red.

Just before the ceremony they decided to change tradition and Matthew felt even more ridiculous and embarrassed as he staggered down the aisle next to his Mother, while Jan was waiting ahead in her wonderful traditional dress.
The heels made distinctive sounds on the chapels stone floor and he could hear amused whispering from the crowd.
Matthew was glad that it was a rather private wedding. There were only his Mother and Sister from his side of the family and all of Jan's attending friends were Women, most of them bridesmaids. The only other male was Linda's new boyfriend Mark. He was a tall handsome man, able to look down at matthew despite the heels and he was of course wearing a proper tuxedo. Since matthew did not have a best man, Linda simply decided that Mark would be perfect to fill in.
Since matthew had agreed to give up his last name and take Jan's the registrar pronounced them "Mr. and Mrs. Janyne Rivers" to the amused giggles of the attending.

The humiliations continued during the reception. Since matthew was not able to dance in heels, Jan was mostly dancing with Mark while her newly wedded husband would stand at the side watching them. He had been given the brides bouquet and pearl clutch to hold so they would not burden his Wife while she was swept over the dancefloor by a complete stranger.
At one point little Maddy the flower girl discovered that matthew was basically wearing the same outfit as the bridesmaids. The only difference was that their suits were in pink and came with pencil skirts instead of leggings. Once she pointed this out to virtually everyone matthew was occupied by the bridesmaids. He was included in all their group pictures, still holding the bouquet and purse. They had him sit with them at their table and gradually transformed him to match their look even more. Everyone, including Maddy, constantly took pictures of every stage, posting them on Facebook and tweeting them to their friends.
Once Jan eventually decided it was late, she found her husband in full Bridesmaid makeup with pink lipstick, pearl earrings clipped to his lobes and several strands of pearls around his neck.
Since there had not been taken a photograph of the young couple side by side, this was how Matthew ended up on their official wedding picture. A newly wed husband in a feminine suit, heels, makeup and jewelry on the side of his beautiful Wife Jan, who had changed back into her own heels in the meantime, being considerably taller than him.

As much as he would love to forget about the ceremony and the reception the wedding night was an even bigger embarrassment to him.
Matthew had not climaxed for more than six months prior and he hardly even had any erections ever since his proposal.
It had been Linda, his Mother in Law, who convinced him that it would be so romantic to vow chastity until the wedding. Jan had loved the idea and it may have even been romantic if they both had made the same pledge, but his fiancee did not even address that issue when she accepted his offer and he had to follow through with it all by himself.
When Jan caught him stroking in bed in the first week, she discussed the matter with her Mother and they decided Matthew was too weak willed for the challenge and it would be best to take measures to support him with his vow.
The same day they took him to an adult shop where he was fitted with a stainless steel chastity tube that would prevent not only touching but also any kind of erection. The sales Lady recommended to add a little padlock, if they suspected he could not be trusted with the device on his own. Since that was obviously the case he was locked into the device right then and there and both his Fiancee and Mother in Law would keep a key for "emergencies."

On the wedding night Jan had a special surprise for matthew. Before they celebrated their matrimony in bed she would make a rubber cast of his penis to remember the occasion.
The kit was a plastic tube filled with some kind of paste. His member instantly sprung into action the moment the device was removed. Jan took some baby oil and gently rubbed it in for protection. These few seconds of her hand stroking him was enough to take him to the edge. When he was instructed to push his member into the tube to make a mold he almost came, and barely managed to restrain himself.
It took the paste 30 minutes to set and Jan made him bring her to climax three times with his tongue to "pass the time". He had a lot of experience with that method because it was the only kind of sex they have ever had and Jan was very fond of it.
Even before he was locked in the device he had never been allowed to penetrate her.
When it was time to remove the tube he was still completely erect and it took some effort to pull it off. Jan twisted and turned the tube and the moment it eventually came loose the stimulation became overwhelming and matthew could not help but spurt a massive load all over the floor and Jan's feet.
His penis shrivelled up quickly when she looked at him in disappointment. He did not dare to object when She told him to lick it off her toes. He went down on his knees and cleaned her as good as possible with his mouth, then she left him to clean up the rest of his mess to take a shower.
When she came back Matthew was lying in bed stroking himself to an erection in anticipation. Jan thought he was masturbating and was furious. Without allowing him a word of explanation he was placed back into the device and told to sleep on the couch.
And that was the wedding night.

For a week Jan hardly talked to him and since he didn't want to address the issue matthew kept wearing the device.
He was very relieved when she started packing their bags for the honeymoon the other day. Everything would be alright. Four weeks in a first class hotel on Hawaii would make everything right. It had cost him a fortune, but right now it seemed even more worth the investment.
Nothing could go wrong now...

Humiliated Sissy Husband

By: Rikki

"Now I want you to just sit in here quietly, in the closet and look at my high heels while I'm having sex with that well hung young man that's coming over. He will be arriving shortly."

"Tonya please listen, I don't want you having sex with other men anymore," he said in a whining voice.

"Now Max dear, honey, sweetie we are not going to go through this everytime I need to have sex with another man. It's you I am in love with and you know that. You are such a sweet sissy, and sissies dress like pretty little girls and masturbate. Maybe I will help you masturbate later, but I need a real man for some hard pounding sex today."

"I could do that for you if you would just give me another chance," he said with a desperate tone.

Tonya laughed and took his hand.

"Honey, you're wearing a petticoat and little girl's dress, and a very pretty dress I might add, lots of bows, ruffles and frilly lace. So pretty," she said as she fluffed the ruffles on his shoulders with her fingers. "Your toenails are painted all different colors the way you like them, and I wouldn't have it any other way," she said giving him a knowing smile.

"I'm not a sissy. I don't want to be dressed like this Tonya," he pleaded with her.

"But this look is very appropriate for a male like you honey, but not for a real man. It's who you are, and I understand that. You will understand it too in time," she said now pulling him into the large walk in closet.

"It's not who I am Tonya. It's who you are saying I am. I'm not a sissy."

"Max, you have a very small penis and, well frankly it has no need to be in my pussy, or any other woman's pussy for that matter. And besides an erection just doesn't look right with you all dolled up, unless you are looking in a mirror getting turned on and masturbating about how pretty you look. Then it is the perfect size."

Tonya's dresses were seperated on the clothes bar, and a chair was waiting there for Max to sit in.

"I am a man Tonya. I can prove myself to you again," he said watching her get straps together to strap him in the chair. "Don't do this to me."

"You are not a man Max. You lost the right to be a man when you slept with that slut Ginger. You are a whimpering sissy now and I am very understanding of what you are and I know what you need, so sit down so I can get you ready," she said pushing into the chair.

"I don't like the idea of you having sex with other men Tonya. I'm your husband," he said as his ankles were secured to the chair legs.

"Max, I was very supportive of you yesterday when you were giving that nice young plumber a handjob. I even took you to the nail salon so your fingernails would be long, and painted a nice bright red so they would look nice wrapped around that young man's erect penis."

"Tonya!"

"Max, I gave you privacy with him, I wasn't jealous and I understood you felt the need to express your sissy desires with another man and he was kind enough to allow you to handle his manhood for a little while and give him some satisfaction at the same time."

"Tonya, you made me give that man a handjob. I didn't want to do that."

"That's enough of that for now. We will not argue about your sex life right now. My sex life amd my needs are the topic of today."

She strapped his waist to the chair and then his wrist behind his back.

Max sat there in a very bright pink little girl's party dress with white petticoats. His legs were bare and clean shaven. He wore sheer white knee socks that had very elaborate detailed lace designs running up the sides and turned over just under his knees, making sure both knees were fully exposed. His feet were in 5" open toed patent leather pink pumps, and the sheer socks allowed the fact his toenails were painted different colors to show through.

Max was fully made up like a woman of the night with red lipstick and even false eyelashes for his wife's special evening, but his hair was in curly pigtails tied with pink ribbons formed into bows with long streamers like a little girl.

"There now, comfy?" she asked.

Max looked up at her.

"I have to get dressed for my date honey. So you just stay here and I'll be back in as soon as I put on something a little more seductive and sexy for my fucking," she said closing the closet door.

It was dark in the closet except for the little bit of light that came from beneath the door. It seemed a long time before she reappeared.

Tonya opened the door and entered the closet with Max.

"Now first thing first," she said holding up a pair of her panties. "Open wide honey. Day old panties," she said putting the panties up to his mouth.

Max did as she requested opening his mouth wide and she stuffed her worn panties fully in his mouth.

She held his chin up and looked at him.

"There you go sweetie. I don't let just any man eat my panties, especially after I've worn them all day, only you," she said pulling a piece of duct tape off the roll and holding it up to his mouth.

Max cast his eyes down in shame as she taped the panties in his mouth, then the door bell rang.

"Oh there he is now," she said jumping to her feet excited.

"Ummpphhh," Max grunted shaking his head, his curly pigtails bouncing as he did. He was now feeling totally degraded by her excitement that another man was here to have sex with her.

"Ok Max. You stay real quiet and I'll give you a nice hard bare bottom paddling tonight before I put you to bed," she said kissing him on the cheek. "Would you like that?" she asked smiling.

Max looked at her shaking his head no.

She she pinched both of his cheeks and shook his head side to side.

"We'll see," she giving him a love tap with the palm of her hand on the cheek that was rather hard.

Tonja stood and opened her robe for Max revealing a sexy black and lavender waist wasp with black fishnet stockings hooked to the garters. Her breast fully exposed and her nipples erect. She stepped into a pair of 5" black spike heels.

"How do I look sweetie," she said showing herself off with a sexy pose rolling one of her nipples between her fingers trying to make it even firmer. "Do you think he will fuck me harder if I wear red pumps?" she asked watching the helpless man trying to show his disapproval.

"See you in a couple of hours Max. I'm getting fucked today," she said excitedly as she closed the door and then he heard the key turn and he was locked in the closet.

"Right this way," Max heard Tonja say to the young man.

It was quiet for awhile, and Max sat quietly bound in the chair in the dark closet while his wife was entertaining another man in their own bed.

Max's imagination ran wild thinking of what might be happening just outside the closet where he was sitting tied to a chair.

Just low talking and some gigg;ing hrom Tonja was all he heard, but Max could hear the heavy breathing. The kissing and the gasping of air that Tonja made. This went on for ten minutes then it got quiet again.

"You are so big," Tonja said with passion as she stroked him with her hand and kissed him passionately on the lips.

"I'm all yours for the evening babe," he said enjoying her
manipulations.

"I need to suck your dick," she said almost in a panic. "Do you mind?" She gave him another hard kiss and held his head in her hands.

"Sure, Help yourself."

"Cum in my mouth if you want!" she stated then she quickly moved to between his legs and took him in.

"Oh yeah baby. Suck it," Max heard the guy gasp taking a deep breath. Max's wife was giving this man a headjob while Max was forced to sit in the closet dressed like a silly little girl hearing everything as it happened.

There was an audible choking sound, along with moans of pleasure. Then it was silent.

"Let me lick the rest of that up for you," Tonja said softly.

It was quiet again for awhile. Some soft talk and kisses. Max hung his head in shame. He didn't know how long it was but something got his attention.

It wasn't much longer before the headboard was banging against the wall and Tonja was screaming out her satisfaction.

"Oh my god!" she screamed as the headboard hit harder and harder. "OH YES............YES..............YESSSSSS!!!!"

Max couldn't see his wife as she was screaming out in ecstacy, on her back holding her legs up high with her hands while the young man enjoyed himself in her sex starved pussy.

Then there was that final scream followed by moans of complete bliss and satisfaction.

"That was wonderful," she said. "It really feels good having a real man with a big cock fucking me like this," she said gasping for air.

"My pleasure," the man said smiling at her blunt talk.

"Here let me get that for you," she said gently removing his condom.

They continued holding each other and eventually the sex began again, this time more intense and louder than before.

Poor Max sat bound in the closet dressed lik a girl listening to his wife's loud screams of sexual pleasure. Tears ran down his face. She wouldn't have sex with him since his indiscretion with another woman. He was a sissy now and no threat to other women's desires. He didn't want to be a sissy, but she insisted he be one and made him live his life accordingly.

It was several hours before the closet door finally opened. Max looked up with his tear stained face and running makeup. Tonja stood in the door for a moment with the look of a satisfied woman and somewhat exhausted.

"Oh Max, he was so good. I had several mind blowing orgasm riding his big cock," she said rubbing her crotch seductively. She pulled the tape from his mouth then pulled the panties out of his mouth.

"Tonja, why do you have to do this to me?" he said sobbing softly.

Tonja's hair was still a mess from her little romp in the sack.

"Oh Max sweetie, you know how much I love you," she said sitting on his lap facing him. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Now hush all this crying."

"Let me be your man again Tonja," he whispered.

"No honey. You can't, you're my sissy and you need to act like one." She lifted his chin and smiled. "Look what I saved for you baby," she said holding up three used condoms of semen from her little encounter.

"What?"

"Com'on Max open your mouth wide for me," she said holding one of them up to his lips. "My sissy boy needs to drink some semen."

"NO!!! Damn it Tonja stop this," he yelled shaking his head back and forth.

"Oh don't be such a baby Max," she said pulling his hair now and holding his head back under her arm and painfully squeezing his cheeks.

"Open up like a little birdie," she said pleasantly as she struggled to hold him still.

"No," he said pressing his lips tight together.

"Hold still damn it, " she said as her frustration showed.

There was a struggle for ten minutes as Tonja attempted to empty the contents from the condoms of the man she had just had sex with into Max's mouth.

"NO!" he yelled almost exhausted from the struggle.

"You're drinking the semen Max," she said struggling with him try to hold hos head still and open his mouth. "This is what sissies do and you are a sissy, so be still."

Max fought back until she grabbed one of his balls and rolled it in her fingers firmly.

"OUUCCHH!" he yelled as his body tensed form her grip "Please Tonya," he whimpered.

"You want some nice warm semen don't you," she said seductively then kissing his cheek while picking up the used condom again.

Through the door there was the audible squeal of desperation and then the soft sobbing mummbles of resignation while she gently rolled his testicle in her fingers and picked up another condom.

Tonja finally finished. She closed the closet door to give Max a chance to settle down and regain his composure while she went to take a nice hot shower. The teary sissy man sat alone with his thoughts in the well lit closet dressed like a little girl in pigtails with pretty bows and ribbons. His head hung down, his chin almost on his padded chest. Three empty condoms lay on the floor next to the chair he was tied to. A foul taste lingered in his mouth. Tonja was finished...................for now.

Best Friend's Birthday Party

By: Rosie



"Come on, time to get ready," Alice says and it's like I already know what she's on about. I follow her to the bedroom and the fact that she has already laid out the clothes she wants me to wear doesn't really surprise me. "Are you sure?" I ask weakly, but I know in advance it won't do me any good. Her mind is set, and that's all that it matters. I can tell without looking she's going to dress me in her clothes, again. "It's your best friend's birthday party," she says. "Don't you think you should put on something nice?" Personally, I think that the pants and shirt I have on are nice enough, but my opinion doesn't really hold much weight, so I take them off and hang them back in my closet. Then I take off my undershirt and vest. Buck naked and under her watchful eye, I turn to the heap of clothes she has laid out on the bed. I put on a pair of black lacy panties and a matching black bra, which I fill up with silicone breast forms. Next is a pair of black pantyhose and black satin and lace teddies, over which I put on a black silk blouse with short, puffy sleeves. Alice helps me into my dress - it's a red satin creation with an opera top and full, knee length skirt. The ensemble is completed by a pair of black pumps with a four inch heel. By the time Alice gets my makeup done, and my below-the-shoulder length black hair styled to her taste, I have to admit that I do look rather nice. Still, I can't fight the urge to speak. "Don't you think it's a little over the top?" I ask her. "It's not even five o'clock." "It's Terry's birthday," she says, "you should look your best." This makes sense, I guess, but why isn't she all dressed up herself? Not that she isn't looking nice in her long wide legged pants and white sleeveless blouse, but that's how she usually dresses. I can't shake the feeling as if she's just taking me to the party, rather going to the party with me. When we get to Terry's place, the rest of the gang is already there. All the apprehensions I had about entering the house dressed as I am disappeared when Andrew greeted us at the door. He was wearing a blouse similar to mine, except that it was white, and a red silk knee length A- line skirt that I remembered seeing his girlfriend wear last week. His hair has been apparently lightened yet again and now he's a platinum blonde. John was already in the living room, listlessly flipping though a stack of magazines under Terry's coffee table. Like myself, he too was wearing his dress over a blouse, except in his case the blouse is off-white, with long, billowing open-cuffed sleeves, and the dress is a simple knee length, spaghetti strap thing, made of cocoa colored silk with lots of white lace just below the hem, and around the waist. Andrew and I walk over to the living room, while Alice joins Claire and Stephanie, Andrew's and John's girlfriend around the kitchen table. Like Alice, Claire is in her ordinary day wear, black trousers and a dark purple turtleneck. Only Stephanie is wearing a black sleeveless silk blouse with a black and white printed A-line skirt, but then again, Stephanie has always been prone to dressing nicely, for any occasion. I'm sitting down in the living room, my knees kept nicely together and the skirt of my dress is spread around me on Terry's couch. John is on the other end of the couch, still browsing though the magazines and Andrew is on the sofa, nervously fidgeting and trying to cover his knees with the hem of his skirt. None of us speaks, though not from embarrassment. It's not as if this is the first time we've seen each other in women's clothes. But this time, this is no costume party. We haven't lost any bets to our girlfriends, nor are we taking up any of their dares. It's not Mardi-gras nor Halloween. What this should have been is four guys sitting around a case of cold beer and boxes of hot pizza. Instead, Terry, dressed in a silver pleated halter top dress, and a pair of black, high heeled strappy sandals, brings in a tray of little sandwiches and a pot of tea. Still, we take them hastily of the platter as it gives us something to do. Something to occupy ourselves with, rather than pondering why our girlfriends have made us wear dresses and skirts this time. Before the sandwiches are gone, Ellen comes into the living room. Ellen is Terry's girlfriend and for some reason, I'm glad to see that at least she has dressed up to the occasion, although she does looked a little intimidating in her severe gray silk blouse and tight, knee length blue skirt. "Girls," she says, addressing her circle of friends. "Boys." She turns to us, drawing a stiffened giggle from the girls. "It's time for Terry's birthday present," she says. An awkward look passes among us. After repeatedly trying to get our girlfriends lo let us have some money to buy our friend a present, and failing each time, we resigned to our fate and explained to Terry that we wouldn't be getting him anything this year as our girlfriends have a too tight grip over our finances. But we didn't expect them to upstage us like that. "Us girls bought on the behalf of Terry's friends," she continued, "I hope that you boys don't mind, but we were worried you wouldn't be able to keep a secret." A new wave of giggles from around the kitchen table. I should have known - they may have chosen the present, but it's us that are paying for it, even if we don't get to see our own money anymore. "Terry, darling," she turned to him, "Your present is waiting for you in the bedroom." Without a word, Terry scurries upstairs, Ellen joins the girls around the kitchen table and we're again left to ourselves. None of us speaks until the sandwiches are gone. "You think they'll let us go out later?" John asks, breaking the silence with a rather soft, almost girlish voice. "I doubt it," I reply, noticing that I hardly sound any more masculine than him. Andrew puts down his teacup, then picks up his handbag, takes out his compact and repairs his lipstick. "Even if they do," he says, dabbing his lips with a tissue, "Do you think they'll let us change back?" As if on a cue, both John and me reach for our own handbags and repair our lipstick. I also touch up my mascara. Andrew's words are resounding in my head. Not so much the words themselves, but the unusually high pitched voice he said them in. He must have been practicing. After a while, though, I find myself occupied with the idea of us four, dressed as we are, sitting in our usual bar. I have to stiffen a giggle. "We have no money, anyway," I say. Andrew shrugs and arranges his red coral necklace. "What do you thing we're getting him, anyway?" John asks. "I don't know, but it's sure taking him a long time to find it," Andrew replies. Just at that time, Ellen comes from the kitchen. "Boys?" she says, "Why don't you come over to the lobby and take a look at Terry's present?" We see Terry at the top of the stairs, now wearing an exquisite evening gown. It's made of peach-colored silk and he's wearing a matching stole around his shoulders, bared by the strapless top of his dress. The skirt of his dress very full and it flares out even as he makes his way down the staircase - he must be wearing a petticoat underneath. His blonde hair, which he wore swept back before, now tumbles around his face in a mass of tiny curls. His makeup is much heavier than before, too, and I can't help but notice that although Ellen was downstairs the whole time, it is immaculate. The girls clap excitedly and we have no choice but to join in the applause. One by one we stop wondering what Terry's present is when we realize that he is in fact wearing it. Have we really bought Terry an evening gown? The obvious question is how much did this set us back? Somehow, I get the feeling that we didn't buy just the gown, but his shoes and lingerie too. It must have been hellishly expensive and even divided between the three of us, it still must be a lot. But then the more striking implication creeps into my brain. Terry now actually owns a dress. Unlike the rest of us, who are dressed in the clothes of our girlfriends, Terry's evening gown is his own. The squeals we emit when he thanks us for his present sound like squeals of excitement, but they are more likely squeals of fright. Two months after we have first worn our girlfriends' dresses for a costume party, we are completely at their mercies. We have no money of our own. Other than our jobs, we have no time to spend away from them. They dress us in their clothes on a whim, and looking at Terry, we know that each of us will, sooner or later, join him in the ownership of women's clothes. Looking at Terry, it is clear to us that our days as men are numbered. Is this why are squeals are so loud and so heartfelt? Then again, it is an exceptionally pretty dress.

Airtime

By: Rosie


The opening credits roll by and my mother appears on the screen. She's wearing a shiny, lime green jacket. "Is that satin?" I whisper to my father, not wanting to drown the sound of the television. The seams on it are very stiff, making it look almost as if the shoulders are padded, and although the neckline is quite high, her breast are accentuated by darts that run all the way down until they disappear in a black patent leather waist. Below the waist, the jacket flares out in an almost obscenely large peplum. The matching skirt, by contrast, is almost boring. It simply runs down in a straight line until it ends just below her knees. The camera zooms in, accentuating the details of the fabric. "Yes, it's definitely satin," I say in disbelief, and my father raises the volume. The camera also accentuates the details of my mother's face. Despite the masterful touch of the makeup artist, the teeth of time have left their traces. The skin on her neck is no longer taut, there are tiny wrinkles around her eyes, and the lines around her mouth make her cheeks stand out like pouches. She looks strict and severe, even with her blonde hair framing her face and ornamenting the shiny green shoulder. Yet somehow, she radiates an air of warmth. And her outfit with the almost embarrassingly effete peplum, and bright green shininess, does not so much clash with the look of the dignified lady as much as adds to the warmness she projects on the screen. "It's not satin," my father whispers in response. "Brushed cotton, more likely." For a split second, my eyes meet his. Then, we turn back to the screen, shaking our heads in disbelief that so much unwarranted kindness is radiated by the same woman who rules our lives with an iron fist. Ever since she has begun her broadcasting career, my mother's contracts have always specified that the clothes she wears on camera become her private property. During her years as a newscaster, she'd bring home the clothes that would get phased out of rotation every once in a while. Ever since she started hosting her own show, she has brought home the full outfit each time. In a way, that was to be expected. As a newscaster, the majority of her clothes were mix and match items that could make up different outfits. With her new show, her clothes soon became much more flamboyant, much more noticeable, so that she simply couldn't dress twice in the same clothes. And while they had less use in the daytime than the inconspicuous business-like clothes from her newscaster days, she certainly had no reason to leave them in the network's wardrobe. My mother has taken good care of her body, but still, the time goes only forward, and she certainly didn't want the same outfits worn on camera, in different shows, by other, younger, sleeker, taller or bustier women. There is another reason why my mother insists on bringing home her clothes, however, which is why my father and I are so interested in them. It is because we know that one of us will be wearing them tomorrow, when we attend the weekly tea party of her social club. Usually, that honor used to be bestowed upon my father whose closet is where my mother's clothes have been ending up since her newscaster days, but since four months ago, it is an even chance that I will have to put them on. Ever since I can remember, my mother has been making my father put on her clothes. While it was clear that he didn't really enjoy it, and that it caused him a great deal of embarrassment, he pretended that he was going along with it on his own volition, rather than risking a confrontation with my mother. From time to time, he did try to talk his way out of it, but he always backed down before his pleads could develop in a serious argument with my mother. Instead, he'd puff theatrically, "Oh, all right", as if to say the thing he puts up with for the woman he loves, and then he'd emerge from their bedroom minutes later, dressed from the skin up in my mother's clothes. "Just a bit of fun," he'd say, although there was probably nothing fun about cleaning the house in a tight dress and high heeled shoes. Looking back, I guess he was avoiding an open confrontation with my mother because he knew that she'd have her way in the end. Eventually, my mother managed to force him to rebel against her. The breaking point came when my mother brought home a ball gown had worn at an awards ceremony and told him to wear it for his birthday party. As outrageous as her demand was, my father's resistance was an even bigger surprise to everybody. This had infuriated my mother so much that she staged an impromptu, but nonetheless formal feat-of-strength, with both of my grandmothers as referees. Not wanting to fight, my father hid in their bedroom. My mother was adamant - when he came out she'd fight him whether he fought back or not. The only way she'd leave him alone was if he came out wearing the gown. After a brief intervention by my two grandmothers, my father put on the gown and formally accepted that from then on, he would wear what my mother wanted, when she wanted and where she wanted. On the screen, my mother walks across the studio to welcome her first guest. From the side, the tailored jacket nicely accentuates her slim figure. The same slim figure that has caused my father so much grief. Unlike her, my father's metabolism is much more prone to putting on weight, and she does get more exercise than him. To make sure he continues to fit in her clothes, she has him keep a very strict diet. "Isn't that great? I can eat just about anything and not gain a single ounce," she'd often tease him, wolfing down steaks, potatoes and deserts while my father nibbled on a salad. He keeps his hope alive that with age, she'll eventually start gaining weight which will allow him to eat a bit more as well, but so far, she has managed to keep her figure. She walks across the studio coquettishly, the flared hem of her jacket dancing under the bright lights with her every step. Is it my imagination, or does she does that on purpose? Is she taunting us with the overly feminine detail of her outfit that tomorrow will serve to even deepen the embarrassment of one of us? Unlike my father, I was allowed to live as a boy, and, except for the dresses I had to wear to frankly not very frequent formal visits of my maternal grandmother, I was free to wear whatever I wanted. Yet I never felt quite free and my father's fate was a constant reminder that kept me in line, well into my early adulthood. It wasn't until college when I moved away from home that I gained independence from my mother. Sadly, that only lasted one semester. When she learned about my failing grades, it was decided that I'd stay home until she was convinced that I had the determination to finish college. Three days later, I was having tea at my mother's club while the other members couldn't agree which one of us was more embarrassed - my father, who for the first time in years had to wear a dress he'd worn before, or me, wearing my mother's on-screen outfit that should be rightfully belong to my father. It is during the first commercial break that we allow ourselves to take our eyes away from the screen. My father gets up and paces nervously around the living room. He is wearing the dress my mother wore last week, a knee length, straight skirted creation made of mocha-colored sating, with a black lace overlay that just about covers his breasts, and leaves the dress above them bare. He has pulled his hair in a tight bun at the back of his head, just like my mother wore last week. His breasts, which I can't help but to admire how they push forward the bodice of his dress, are part hormones, part implants. Mine are silicone breast forms that feel both alien and disturbingly natural bouncing around in my bra. I keep looking at my father and I simply can't help but to wonder how it must feel like, to have them under your skin, a part of your body. How does it feel like when you don't have to worry about buttoning your blouse all the way up, or to wear a low-cut top. But then I look down at my own and I can't help but to admire the dance of the light, reflecting from the bright red satin of my dress with every breath I take. The commercials are over and the screen again fills up with that sleek, shiny lime green fabric. "Are you sure it's not satin?" I ask my father, but he just shushes me into silence. "I sure hope it's satin," I mutter for the last time until the end of the show.

Mother Drives Me to Work, Again

By: Rosie


The atmosphere in the car is so tense and oppressive I literally feel a choking grip on my throat but at the same time, all over my body I'm feeling light and airy. Of course I'm wishing I was wearing a suit, just like any other day, jacket, tie, shirt and pants, but that would feel so much stuffier. Hot. Uncomfortable. I'm looking forward and a bit to the right hand side but never at my mother. If I'm looking at all, mostly I keep my eyes closed. It's been a long night and an early morning so even without the suit, I'm dozing off in the heat. As another blast of warm air from the heating vent flows by my face, I can picture myself deliberating whether I should ask my mother to turn the heating down, at least for a notch, or maybe just loosen up my tie and unbutton my collar. I know that mother likes to keep warm as she drives so instead of asking her, I instinctively reach up to my neck which abruptly brings me back to reality. There is no tie to loosen, no collar to unbutton, there is no fabric around my neck at all, just a single strand of pearls. The only fabric that touches my neck is the gauzy chiffon of my sleeve which reminds me that I am not wearing a suit at all, but a light, airy dress, with a neckline that reaches just below my collarbone and gauzy, billowing sleeves that end with two inches wide strips of black satin, wrapped tightly around my wrists. The whole dress is made of black chiffon with a red, green and orange polka dot print, over a black, sleeveless silk shell. Even though the knee length skirt is not tight at all, I can't get too comfortable because I have to take care that the hem doesn't ride over my stocking tops. It's not too bad, but I'd still rather wear my suit. I knew that I would never be safe, but after more than a year of undisturbed living, I suppose I had let my guards down. I could go on about how I'd always know that it was going to happen any day but the truth is, when I answered the door yesterday evening, I couldn't be any more surprised to see my mother. She dropped her suitcase smack in the middle of my living room and I dragged it to my bedroom. Rifling through it, I recognized some of my old clothes, as well as a lot of new ones. I was going to spend enough time getting ready anyway, so I decided to stick to what I already knew. I fished out the bag with the cosmetics and went to the bathroom. We'd been through the same routine so many times now that lately, we hardly say a word. "At least you haven't put on any weight," were the first words she said to me, an hour after first coming in, when I stood before her, now dressed in a pale yellow, full skirted evening gown with a matching bolero jacket and silver sandals with four inch stiletto heels. I didn't speak much either. I had already admitted my defeat by shaving my legs, putting on white satin lingerie, the dress, shoes and makeup. All I wanted to do now was to go back home, but I knew that nothing I could say would convince my mother to change the routine. I could resign from my job by simply phoning the office, but that wouldn't please her at all. The following morning, just like every time thus far, she would make sure I was dressed up properly. Sometimes I'd wear a dress, sometimes a blouse and skirt, sometimes she'd even let me choose myself which clothes I would wear for the humiliation that awaited me, though she always insisted I wear very high heels. She would drive me to work herself and, if necessary, use force to make me enter my office to be laughed at until I was told to pick up my things and never to return. Although I've been through that ordeal many times now, it never gets any easier. Though the experience does allow me to switch on the autopilot in my mind and become merely a spectator of my humiliation. This time, it's not that hard to get to the office without attracting attention. It's a small office, in a big building. A lot of people pass by every day and no one pays any attention to just another dressed up girl, fumbling through her handbag to find her pass card, then giving up and just swiping the handbag over the scanner. We are all strangers here and even though I've been here for more than a year, I don't recognize any of the four people riding in the elevator with me. It's still early and I'm happy to see that the lights in our offices are still unlit, except for those in the boss's office. At least this time there won't be a big scene. I hesitate for a second but then hurry to Mrs. Henderson's office, afraid that if I'm too slow other people will come in. Let's get this over with, I say to myself and knock on the door. I can see my mother's car from the window in our office. Just like every time so far, she's waiting for me to leave the building, tears of shame tracing black streaks of mascara down my cheeks. She is persistent, I'll give her that. I can't say for sure, because I haven't kept my eyes on her all the time. I was called to Mrs. Henderson's office again, after everyone had come in, and she made a brief announcement that I would henceforth be working as a girl. Still, that couldn't have taken more than twenty minutes. Maybe half an hour, if I count talking to Jennifer afterwards. Other than that, for what I've seen she hasn't left the car and it's almost lunchtime before she gives up and drives away. Once the surprise settles down, I'm starting to worry. It's almost closing time and I still haven't heard from mother. I wonder if I should call her to pick me up until I realize she might have already left. A wave of relief flushes over me until I remember that I don't know if she took the spare key to my apartment. No doubt she was angry when she left. Who knows what she would do. I just hope she's left me the suitcase.