Date: Sat, 10 Mar 2001 21:39:29 -0800 (PST)
From: Rita Opal <rita@molard.ca>
Subject: Rita Dreams Again

                        RITA DREAMS AGAIN

I woke up feeling very confused. Things were even more mysterious
as I realised that I was not in our familiar bedroom, and Jan was
not lying by my side. I wondered what could have happened to me,
and where I was. The room seemed to be very pleasant, in fact it
could almost be described as luxurious, and the large bed I was
lying in was extremely comfortable.

There was a tap on the door, and a beautiful blonde girl came in.
She was statuesque, and her lovely hair swept down over her
shoulders; she was wearing a delicious powder blue peignoir. She
smiled at me: "Hello!" she said. She seemed very friendly indeed,
but I was still confused, and wondered where on earth I was.
"Hello," I replied; "where am I?" "I'll explain everything to
you," she said; "you must be a new arrival." "I suppose so," I
said, "since I don't recall being here before, and I really have
no idea how I got here. My name's Rita." "I'm Jennifer," she
said, "and I'm here to explain things to you. I'm afraid you
won't be too happy when you hear where you are." Now I was
beginning to get worried; I sat up, and swung my legs round to
sit on the edge of the bed. I was wearing a sensuous nightdress,
pink, with lovely ruffles and lace trim. My visitor came and sat
down by my side, and put her arms round me in a sisterly hug; she
kept one arm round me, and sat with her nylon clad thigh pressed
against mine.

"I don't know what you remember," she said, "but you must have
signed a paper before you arrived here." That rang a bell; I had
a vague recollection of signing something after my sexual
reassignment surgery -- I thought it was a release of some sort.
"You signed a contract," she told me, "and the language was
deliberately confusing and oblique; however, what you did was to
commit yourself to working here for the same people that employ
me, for the next three months. There are very severe penalty
clauses, and they are not very nice people to get on the wrong
side of." None of this made any sense to me; "What is their
business?" I asked. "They would probably give a more sanitised
name to it," she said, "but it is prostitution." "What!" "Yes,
I'm afraid so. You have legally committed yourself to work in
this business for the next three months, and you will be required
to make yourself available for sex with any man who likes the
look of you when he checks out those who are available." I was
more confused than ever, now; "And I don't have any choice in the
matter?" "No. They have manipulated things very cleverly legally,
and breaking the contract you signed would be a worse fate than
the one now in store."

"I have to be a prostitute?" "You do. Believe me, there's no
choice; I got caught in exactly the same way." I still couldn't
believe what I was hearing, but I began to worry about what would
happen. My visitor hugged me again; "It won't be as bad as you
think," she said. "The girls here are very nice, and there is a
wonderful cameraderie; we all support one another, and that makes
things better than they might be. It's also a very high class
establishment; the clients who come here are high class too.
They're not the nicest people one would hope to meet, and they
can be aggressive sexually, but they won't mistreat you
physically. They come here because they have particular
interests, and it's a specialty of the house to cater to them."
In spite of my worries, I got curious; "What particular
interests?" "They are all men who like to have sex with women
dressed in lingerie; many of them seem to be particularly turned
on by girdles and stockings, and those are our normal 'working
clothes'." "That doesn't bother me too much," I said, trying
desperately to look on the bright side; "the fact is, I am very
fond of those things myself. I love feminine things, and they
have always struck me as being particularly feminine." "They
are," she said; "I feel just the same way. I think that's how we
got into this situation; I don't know how they found out, or how
they managed to ensnare us all, but everyone here has just the
same ideas about nice feminine things to wear."

"So what happens?" I asked. "Well, when the establishment is open
for business, we all have to display ourselves in the lounge
downstairs, appropriately dressed. The clients come in and look
us over, and make their choice. It's demeaning, but we are
expected to accept with good grace, and then take our partner to
a private room to satisfy his desires, whatever they may be."
Jennifer smiled at me, and hugged me again. It felt very
reassuring and though I was very apprehensive about what she had
told me, I did feel the sense of friendship and sisterhood. I
hugged her back, and felt the keen pleasure of being a woman in
the company of other women. "I don't seem to have much choice," I
said, "and the thing that worries me the most is that I am not
very experienced in dealing with the male of the species." "Don't
worry about that," Jennifer said; "the problem is to submit to
their wishes in dealing with you. Most of them simply want
straightforward sex, and appreciate ogling us with our
suspenders." "I think I can deal with that," I said; "but what
about the clothes? I'm very vague about how I got here, and I
don't know if I have any of my things with me." "That's one thing
you certainly don't have to worry about; there's a store room,
which has a fantastic selection, and we are free to go there and
choose what we need. That's partly why I came to see you; I
thought we might go there and find some things for you. Then we
can try them on together." "I'd like that," I said.

She took me by the hand, and led me down the hallway; at the end
was a door leading into a large room, laid out like a lingerie
boutique. There was indeed a fantastic selection of every
imaginable item there, and I began to think that things were not
quite so bad after all. "What is it that you like particularly?"
asked Jennifer. "Well," I said; "just about any nice feminine
well-fitting foundation appeals to me, but I am particularly fond
of corselettes." "Me, too; they're lovely to wear, aren't they?"
We found a selection of exquisite black corselettes, power net
with lacy trim and six suspenders. I took one in my size, and
Jennifer selected one just the same. We went to look at the
stockings, and I took two pairs in black. "What about panties?" I
asked. "That's tricky, isn't it? They have to be removed, so I
usually wear very brief ones, that are easily pulled down, though
they get in the way then; the other option is to get frilly
ornate ones, and wear them over the suspenders." "I think that's
probably best, maybe in a really contrasting colour." I found
some frilly ones in bright red, and decided they would be
suitable. Jennifer seemed to share my tastes, and took some that
were very similar, though in a more shocking pink shade. "Let's
go back to your room," she said, "then I can show you where
everything is."

We returned back to the room where I had originally found myself.
"Let's try them on, now," said Jennifer. She took off the
peignoir, and started to ease the folds of her nightdress over
her head. I did the same, and soon we were both standing
completely naked. She was a very beautiful woman, and I looked at
her admiringly; I noticed that she was also giving me an
inspection. "Forgive me," she said, "but you said that you didn't
have much experience. That's hard to believe from someone as
attractive as you are." "Thank you," I said. "I don't have much
experience with men; my partner and I are very happy being women
together." "I see," smiled Jennifer; "welcome to the club." She
came over to hug me once again, and as our naked bodies clung
together, I felt a thrill of sexual excitement go through me.
Immediately I felt a pang of guilt; I wondered what had happened
to Jan, and realised that I missed her very much. Jennifer picked
up my reaction; "What's the matter?" "It's my partner," I said;
"I wonder what has happened to her, and where she is." "I'm sure
she's alright," Jennifer said, "but they will make sure that she
can't communicate with you; I'm in the same position, and it's
very upsetting." Realising that we were in the same boat seemed
to justify seeking solace in one another's company, and I wrapped
my arms round her again; we clung together.

"I think we better get dressed." said Jennifer eventually. She
picked up her corselette and stepped into it, pulling it up over
her body. She carefully arranged the shoulder straps, then
started working her way up the hooks at the front. I followed her
example, and found it quite thrilling to watch her; I had my
usual sense of enjoyment as I felt the gentle constraint pulling
me in, and seeing the process enacted simultaneously added to the
enjoyment of the experience. We were soon zippered up, and
standing side by side in our lacy black power net, with
suspenders dangling over our thighs. I started to put on my
stockings, always a tactile delight for me, and the essential
femininity of the experience was enhanced by the sight of
Jennifer easing her black nylons over her beautiful legs. I
fastened my suspenders carefully, making sure they were properly
in position, and felt the delicious smoothness of my stockings
along with the subtle tension on the hem of my corselette. As
always, I wallowed in the delicious feeling of femininity the
process inevitably induced in me, and I found the sight of
Jennifer stretching her suspenders across her thighs to meet the
dark bands of her stocking tops stimulated me even more. She was
looking at me too, and she smiled as our eyes met; "It really is
a wonderful feeling, isn't it?" "It's one of the nicest things
about being a woman," I said, though my mind was thinking back to
the many occasions when I had enjoyed the experience before I had
the body of a woman.

"Suspendered stockings look so nice, too," she said. "In a way I
can understand why these men get so turned on by them. But I
often wonder if they might not enjoy them the way we do; I have a
sneaking suspicion that they secretly want to, and they get a
vicarious thrill by seeing us." I wondered if she had been
reading my mind, and for some reason decided to open up to her.
"I know of one that did," I said. "I am a transsexual, and I only
had my surgery a few years ago. Before that I was a male, of
sorts, and I spent many happy evenings dressed just as I am now."
"That's wonderful! I can understand the way you felt exactly, and
it surprises me that more men don't want to experience the
wonderful pleasures we have. But you're so feminine!" "Thank
you," I said. "To me, that's a real compliment. I don't know
whether I always was, but I certainly enjoyed the feeling of
being feminine." Jennifer came over to me and hugged me again; it
was a delicious feeling, to experience the companionship of
another woman, and to feel our sensuous foundations pressed
against one another. She caressed my thighs, and delicately
fingered my suspenders; I found the effect very pleasant indeed,
and I couldn't resist doing the same. We sat down side by side on
the couch, and pressed our suspendered thighs against one
another, with our hands still resting gently on one another's
stocking tops.

I sat there, happy at one level, in spite of the strange
circumstances I found myself in; it was a delicious feminine
experience. We were wearing garments that to me were the epitome
of femininity, and there was a wonderful feeling of
companionship; it was underlined by the fact that we were both
dressed in exactly the same way, and in such intimate feminine
garments. I found my mind going back over my years of experience
with garments such as these, and recalling how my fetishistic
interest was the precursor to the awakening of real transgendered
feelings in me. I felt very close to Jennifer at that moment, and
I felt the urge to tell her more about myself. "These garments
are a very powerful image for me," I said. "To me they epitomise
femininity. I have always associated them with femininity, and in
my early life they exerted a very strong fetishistic attraction;
it was much later that I realised that I was transgendered, and
had a strong desire to be feminine. These wonderful things were a
just a symptom of my inner state, but they became symbols that
still have significance." "I can understand that perfectly," said
Jennifer; "that's what I really meant when I wondered about the
attraction they have for men. They certainly turn on the ones
that we meet here." "They turned me on," I said, "and they still
do. The image of a beautiful woman in a well fitting girdle, with
suspendered stockings, is the most powerful one I can imagine.
But unlike the typical male response, mine was to experience an
overpowering desire to wear the items myself. I now respond
sexually as a woman, but I have exactly the same reaction.
Looking at you now, I see a vision of loveliness -- it gives me
an incredibly strong desire to appear just the same. If I wasn't
wearing just the same things you are, I would really have
problems." I stroked her thighs and suspenders in a gesture that
expressed intimate companionship rather then eroticism.

Jennifer lightly moved her hands over the tops of my stockings,
and lingered at each of the little bumps where the suspenders
were attached. "It's not quite the same for me," she said. "I
love wearing girdles, along with stockings and suspenders, and I
certainly associate them with femininity, just as you do; but
it's been part of my life ever since I grew up, so it doesn't
have quite the same powerful effect. It is stimulating, though,
and I still remember the delight of the 'rite of passage' when I
graduated from girlhood and was able to wear a girdle and
stockings for the first time. I think of them as feminine, and I
enjoy feeling feminine; they are intimate garments too, and there
is a special thrill when one shares the experience with another
woman." "Do they excite you sexually?" I asked. "Yes, they do.
There's no doubt that a nice tight girdle gives one a wonderful
sexy feeling." "Does that help you in dealing with the amorous
males?" "I think it does. As I said they're very intimate things,
and in normal society they are hidden; exposing them is a way of
giving special recognition to a person one is intimate with.
Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't choose to favour males in
that way, but now I am required to do so, I find their response
quite gratifying, and it helps me very much in dealing with the
subsequent activities." "That's interesting," I said. "As I told
you, I am relatively inexperienced with males, but in the few
cases where I have had sex with them, they had a powerful
interest in what I was wearing, and it certainly helped things
along."

As Jennifer and I chatted together, we found more and more that
we were very much in tune with one another, and without any
specific suggestion from either one of us, we lay back on the
bed, face to face, and caressed one another. It wasn't overtly
sexual at all, though I felt a pleasant thrill of something more
than simple companionship, and I felt certain that Jennifer was
responding in much the same way. We lay there quietly talking for
a long time; Jennifer told me a great deal about her young days,
and her realisation that she was lesbian in orientation. She was
very interested in my story, as a transsexual, and asked me a lot
of questions about the process of transition. She had a wonderful
empathy, and accepted me completely as a fellow woman; it was
abundantly clear to her what the pleasures of being female, and
feminine, were, and she accepted without question the idea that a
male might very well aspire to the same state. "I understand what
you did exactly," she said; "it seems so natural and logical.
What I don't understand is why there aren't so many more like
you." "Well it took me a long time to come to my conclusion," I
said. "Though women's clothing had a fascination for me, and I
couldn't resist the urge to wear it, the effects of testosterone
are very powerful; very simply they generate an urge to be a
penetrator, rather than to be penetrated. I didn't really sort
things out for myself until the male equipment stopped working
properly. You could put it this way: I was always attracted to
feminine things -- for myself -- but identification of myself as
feminine came quite late in the day. Once that happened I had a
strong desire to be penetrated myself, and I wanted to submit to
my partner and let her take control." Jennifer smiled wryly at
me; "Well," she said, "I think you will experience penetration,
and you will certainly be dealing with those who want to take
control, but to my taste the circumstances leave much to be
desired."

I had no idea what time it was, and had very little sense of time
passing, but Jennifer suggested it was time for us to go and
present ourselves to prospective customers. We both did a quick
fix on our makeup and made sure our hair was arranged properly,
then we went out wearing diaphonous negligees over our 'working'
clothes. Jennifer took my hand and led me along the hallway, and
down one flight of stairs. There was a very pleasant lounge
there, with comfortable chairs and a bar along one wall. There
were several of our companions sitting there, chatting to one
another. Jennifer introduced me to them, and we took our seats.
It was a strange scene: the surroundings resembled the lounge of
a quiet high-class hotel, but the only people present were
attractive ladies, wearing bras and girdles of various types, all
with suspenders stretched across their thighs. It was a scene
that would have driven me to a frenzy in my younger days, but
fortunately I was dressed to rival any of my companions, so my
instinctive desires were well satisfied.

After a few minutes of quiet conversation, the door opened and a
couple of men came in. They looked at us with a feigned casual
interest, and sat down at the bar. When their drinks were served
they sat sideways so that could cast an eye over us. They were
joined by a striking woman dressed, unlike the rest of us, in a
beautiful evening dress; she was impeccably groomed and coiffed,
and joined into a friendly conversation with the two men. From
time to time they cast glances in our direction, and the topic of
conversation was clearly related to us. Eventually some agreement
was reached, and the madam, for that's what she was, came over to
one of my companions and spoke quietly to her for a moment. The
girl got up, and walked over to one of the men at the bar,
greeting him with a friendly smile; he took her hand and they
both went upstairs together. His companion remained at the bar,
ordering another drink, and continued in conversation with the
madam. There was a sense of unreality about the whole scene; it
was fascinating to experience at first hand the ambience of the
place. It was the sort of scene that one reads about, or sees in
movies, and it hadn't quite registered with me that it was not
only really happening, but that I was a participant.

After quite a long interval, the discussion at the bar came to a
conclusion, and the madam got up and walked over to the corner
where Jennifer and I were sitting. Suddenly things became very
real, and I realised with a shock that it was me she was looking
at. "Our client has decided he would like a private interview
with you, Rita," she said. "You're new here, and this is your
first engagement, but I think you understand what is required.
Please listen to what is asked of you, and do whatever is
necessary to satisfy your customer. You should be gratified that
he has chosen you from the assembled beauties." I got up and
followed her over to the man at the bar; I smiled at him and said
"Hello." He gave me a good look over, and seemed pleased with
what he saw, and got up from the barstool; he took my hand and
led me over to the stairs. He was fairly young, well dressed, and
seemed not unpleasant, though he did exude an air of masculine
forcefulness. We went up the stairs, and along the corridor to
the room I indicated. When we were inside, he shut the door and
grabbed me in a forceful embrace. "You're cute," he said. He
started to paw at my thighs, pulling at the suspenders; "I like
the way you are dressed, too; it makes me want to fuck you." I
wasn't quite sure how to react, and hoped that I wouldn't upset
things, but I took a chance; "I'd like you to fuck me," I
whispered."

He was obviously very interested in my suspenders and stocking
tops, and moved his hands over them, toying with the stretched
elastic. I decided to take the initiative, and undid his belt; he
caught on and slipped his shoes off, so I followed through and
unzippered his pants. I pulled them down, then his shorts, and
revealed a very large penis; it was showing some signs of life
but it was still flaccid. "Mmm, that looks good," I said, and
started to caress it gently. He was evidently pleased with my
attention, and even smiled at me, and as a result of my attention
his cock started to stand up. He pushed me back onto the bed
quite roughly, and looked down at me in eager anticipation; "I
like to fuck girls wearing suspenders," he said, stating the
obvious. "As I said, you're cute, and those things you are
wearing make you look very sexy." I took that as a compliment,
and having no other choice, lay back and relaxed. He continued
fondling my thighs, and I started to experience some stirrings of
excitement myself. His hands worked their way up to my frilly
panties, and suddenly he grabbed them and pulled them down over
my suspenders to my knees; I wriggled and lifted my legs so that
he could complete his ritual unveiling, and then I spread my legs
and lay back in readiness.

His cock was now standing upright, stiff and long, and without
further comment he clambered onto the bed and settled in between
my legs. He aimed his engorged weapon in the general direction of
my vulva and then pushed himself forward, thrusting blindly. I
took hold of his cock and directed it to my labia; it was none to
soon, as his forceful thrust drove it right into me immediately.
The experience wasn't pleasant, though my excitement built up as
I felt the shaft slide along the walls of my vagina; I felt
almost angry as I thought of what a wonderful pleasure it might
have been, if he had used some finesse and helped me to get into
the mood. He certainly wasn't about to do anything with finesse:
the moment his large cock was driven home, he flopped down on top
of me with all his weight, and started pumping away frantically.
I felt as though I was being taken, and realised how apt that
term could be, but the sheer brutality of the action was
strangely exciting, and I wriggled under his weight, squeezing
myself around his cock as best I could. He pumped away, and very
soon it was all over; his cock pulsated violently inside me, and
I felt the jet of semen spurt right into me. He grunted, and let
his groin drop onto mine, adding to the weight I was supporting.

I found the experience quite exciting, but I didn't get close to
orgasm myself, and felt quite frustrated -- also very
uncomfortable. "You're a big strong man," I said; he seemed
pleased by that, and said "That was very good; you are very good
to fuck." I smiled sweetly at him, but decided not to make any
comment. To my relief, he eventually rolled over, and lay by my
side breathing heavily, and apparently contented. "My wife won't
wear a girdle and stockings," he said; "she doesn't seem to
understand how much it would turn me on, and how much fun we
could have." I thought that maybe she understood only too well,
but again I didn't say anything and caressed him. "At least you
make up for it," he said; "you're really very good, and I'd like
to have another session with you soon." "That would be my
pleasure," I said, lying through my teeth. He seemed to have lost
interest now that his orgasm was over with, and he soon got up
and started to put his clothes back on. I started to get up too,
but he motioned me to stay where I was; "I'll find my own way
out," he said. As soon as he was dressed, he went out through the
door, and I lay in the bed thinking over my experience.

Ever since my transition, I had been sexually interested
primarily in other women, my wonderful partner Jan in particular.
Things were so good for the two of us that we were neither of us
interested in other partners, though on one or two occasions I
had had sex with male partners. They were unusual events, and I
had either been pushed into it by Jan's concern for getting me to
have the full experience of a female, or it had happened as a
result of games Jan and I were playing. All those men had been
quite atypical, not at all macho, and I had found the experience
exhilarating and rewarding. This evening had been very different;
it wasn't unpleasant, and I didn't recoil in horror from it, but
it was not the delightful and rewarding experience that sex
usually was. The whole thing had been a depressing example of
what many women had to put up with from their insensitive
partners, and I realised how fortunate I had been. I got up and
surveyed myself in the mirror; there didn't seem to be too much
damage. After a quick brush of my hair, and a touch-up to my
lipstick, I thought I looked as good as I had done before my
recent skirmish. I started to put my panties back on, and became
aware of the sticky fluid inside my vagina; that wasn't a problem
I had very much experience dealing with, and I wasn't sure what
to do short of immersing myself in the bathtub.

I took a look in the bathroom, and found a douche bag there; I
filled it with warm water, and squirted it into me standing
astride the toilet. I managed to do that without getting any
water on my stockings, and I felt much fresher afterwards. It was
probably time for me to return downstairs to see whether there
would be any other business. When I got to the lounge there were
three or four men sitting at the bar; they looked up curiously as
I came in, but didn't seem unduly interested. I noticed that
Jennifer wasn't there, so I assumed she had been selected too. I
sat in a chair next to a beautiful blond girl, dressed in a
beautiful white girdle and bra, with her fluffy peignoir
carefully opened to reveal them. She smiled at me; "Things are
not too busy this evening." "I'm new here," I said; "I don't
really know whether that's good or bad." She laughed. "It's hard
on us when it is very busy." "I can imagine," I said, "if there
is too much of the kind of load that I just had to deal with. Are
they all that heavy-handed?" "Some of them are quite sensitive,"
she said, "and there are even one or two that can't get it up;
they just want someone to talk to. But most of them seem to just
want to bang away, and then leave as soon as possible."

As were chatting together, I saw Jennifer coming down the stairs;
she saw me and came over to sit next to us, making a wry face.
"That was really rather gross," she said, "but how did you fare,
Rita? It looks as though you survived your first encounter." "I
did," I said. "It was quite heavy handed, but fairly quick; he
didn't say too much, but he seemed to be satisfied with what
happened. I didn't find it too unpleasant, but in a way it makes
me feel sad; sex can be such a wonderful experience, but they
seem to have reduced it to something akin to scratching an itch."
Jennifer laughed; "That's the male of the species," she said;
"most of them seem to want it like that. Oh oh ..." The madam was
walking over towards us, and asked me to come with her. As we
walked over to the bar, she said "See how you can deal with this
one. He's young, and very shy; I suspect he's nervous too -- it
may be his first time. If he goes away happy, and ready to
return, then there will be a bonus for you."

I was intrigued now, and thought that this might be more in my
line; it sounded as if it might be something like my experience
with Jan's nephew Peter. The young man was hardly more than a
boy, and looked very sheepish. "This is Rita," said the madam;
"she'll be very helpful and understanding." I smiled at him, and
gently took his hand. "Come along with me," I said; "we can relax
together, and have a nice chat, and then I can show you some nice
things to do." His face got a little brighter, but he still
looked very nervous; I led him up the stairs and down the
corridor to my room. Inside, with the door shut, I kissed him
gently, and led him over to the bed. "I won't bite," I said, and
I won't be unkind; take your time, and then tell me what you
would like to do." He relaxed somewhat, and gave me an awkward
smile; "You're very beautiful," he said. "Thank you; I'm glad you
like what you see. Is there anything in particular that appeals
to you?" He seemed embarrassed; "I don't really know," he said.
"I just like looking at you, and what you are wearing." "You like
what I'm wearing?" "Oh yes, seeing things like that really does
something to me." "Things like what, for instance?" "Your
stockings; they're beautifully sheer and smooth, and ..." This
really began to sound like a replay of the episode with Peter,
and I felt very good about it; I also thought I knew how to
handle it. "Stockings are wonderful to wear," I said; "and I love
the feel of the suspenders I wear to keep them nice and smooth;
do you like them?" He seemed very interested, now; "Yes," he
said. "I mean I like to see them." "Would you like to feel them?
Sit close to me, then you can put your hand on my legs; I would
like it if you did that." He didn't need too much encouragement,
and reached over to my thigh, passing his hand gently over the
top of my stocking. "That feels very nice," I said; "do you like
the way it feels?" "Yes." "Then we must get ourselves
comfortable, and you can feel all my suspenders." I lay back on
the bed, and pulled him down by my side; then I turned to face
him. "Please feel my suspenders," I said; "it would make me very
happy." He pushed his hands between my legs, and explored my
stocking tops, fingering the suspenders. As always, I found it
quite a thrilling experience, and I found myself getting into a
pleasant state of anticipation. I rolled back and forward a
little, to assist him with his probing, and stroked his hands as
they moved over me. "Do you like panties, too?" I asked. "Yes;
they look very nice." "Would you like me to take them off?" He
looked quite embarrassed at the suggestion, but blurted out
"Yes."

I slowly pulled my panties down, manoeuvering them over my
suspenders and stocking tops, then I pushed them off one leg with
the other foot. I lay with my legs squeezed together, and smiled
at him. "Now you can see all of my suspenders," I said, "and the
nice corselette they are attached to. It has a wonderful sleek
feeling round my hips. See how you like the feel of it." He
touched one of my suspenders gingerly and moved his hand up to
the hem of my corselette; he got a bit braver, and then he
started to feel the power net material. "Do you like that?" I
asked. "Yes." "You're quite free to explore what I have
uncovered," I said; "I think that you aren't familiar with a
woman's body, and this is a good time to learn something about
it." He did start to move his hands down, and lightly fingered my
pubes, but he didn't seem inclined to explore any further. I
thought it was time to help him, and I opened my legs to expose
myself completely. "That's what there is there," I said, "and
you'll find that it provides a very nice place for you to put
your cock when it gets ready." It wasn't ready, and I wasn't
quite sure what his problem was. He certainly seemed interested
in what he saw, but he continued to play with my suspenders, and
carefully rubbed his hands over the dark bands at the tops of my
stockings. "You really like my suspenders, don't you?" He nodded,
and continued. "Is that all you like?" He looked at me awkwardly;
"Well, no. But they're so nice, they really do things to me."
"They do things to me, too," I said in a quiet confidential way;
"they are wonderful things to wear -- the feeling is so feminine
and sexy. There are men who like to wear them too; I can
understand that -- I can see how much they might enjoy the
feelings I have. Maybe you might like it; have you ever thought
about wearing stockings and suspenders?" He looked quite taken
aback, and gulped, and then I noticed a telltale bulge at the
front of his pants. "Aha!" I thought to myself. "Another member
of the club." I cradled him in my arms, and spoke very softly to
him, as kindly as I could. "I think you really would like to try
some stockings on, and I could help you fix them up with nice
stretchy suspenders; would you like that?" He looked very
embarrassed, but he nodded. "It's nothing to feel embarrassed
about," I said; "a lot of men like them, and they get very
stimulated by wearing them. I'll go and find some nice things for
you to try, then we can relax quietly together and let you enjoy
them." He found is voice at last; "That would be very nice," he
said; "I have always wanted to see what they were like."

I left him, and went downstairs to the lounge and made a discreet
signal to the madam; she came over to me, with a question in her
look. "He's a CD," I said; "what he wants right now is to try on
some stockings and suspenders, then he'll have the most intense
orgasm of his young life." She smiled, with sudden understanding;
"Oh, so that's the way it is. Go and get whatever you think he
needs, and take care of him. It looks as though you may be
qualified as a girl to handle some of our special interests." I
quickly went upstairs to the store room; I picked out a pair of
smoky black stockings in what I guessed would be the right size.
I found a suspender belt made in stretchy power net, substantial
enough to almost qualify as a girdle, and small enough that it
would be a tight fit on him. As an afterthought, I also selected
a pair of frilly panties, just like mine, and then went back to
my room. The young man was sitting on the bed, and had obviously
overcome his feelings to some degree; he had taken off his pants
and shorts, and he looked up as I came in. "I found some things
for you," I said; "I think they will fit you nicely, and I just
know how wonderful they will feel."

He was still shy, but the power of his urge gave him the courage
to face me. "This is a little girdle," I said, "almost small
enough to be called a suspender belt, but it's nice and stretchy,
so you'll feel it round your waist" I kneeled down in front of
him, and he lifted up his feet; I slid the garment over them, and
then pulled it up his legs until it was more or less in position
around his waist. The suspenders dangled enticingly. "Now for the
stockings; we must be very careful not to snag them." I bunched
one of them up, and fitted it over his toes; then I carefully
unrolled it, and pulled it up his leg. "You'll have to stand
now." He did so, and I stretched the stocking up over his thigh.
Fortunately I had got the size just right, and I had to tug the
back suspender down just the right amount to attach it to the top
of the stocking. He stood there, utterly bemused, and his cock
started to distend, and was very soon standing stiffly upright. I
was very tempted to give it some attention, but I thought that
might divert him unnecessarily; I bunched up the second stocking,
and placed his other foot into it; I repeated the procedure and
soon had the back suspender fastened. Then I kneeled in front of
him, with his engorged cock almost poking into my face, and
carefully attached and adjusted the front suspenders. I stood up
and put my arm round him; "There you are; now you're wearing
stockings and suspenders just like me -- and all the beautiful
girls here. Your legs look very nice, and I'm sure the feeling as
just wonderful!" He didn't respond, but I could tell that he was
utterly captivated, and his stiff hard cock demonstrated his
feelings convincingly. I took his hand and walked him across the
room; "Don't they feel wonderful as you move? It's one of the
wonderful pleasures of being a girl; but of course you don't have
to be a girl to enjoy it, you can just be happy feeling like one.
Would you like to wear panties?" He nodded, so I took the frilly
garment, and got him to step into it, one foot at a time; I
pulled them up his legs, over his suspenders, and eased them very
carefully over his erection. "They look very nice," I said;
"they're so feminine."

He seemed almost overwhelmed by the sensations he was being
subjected to, and I led him over to the bed and got him to lay
down by my side. "Let's just lie together for a while, and enjoy
the lovely things we're wearing." I put my arm round him, and
snuggled close so that our stockings rubbed together. "Now it's
up to you what you would like to do. You can push that lovely
cock right inside me if you want, and we can have a wonderful
fuck together; I could also take hold of it, and see what can be
done to stimulate you that way. It's your choice, and if you
prefer you can just lie here with me and enjoy the nice way your
clothes feel." "I don't know," he said. "It's such a nice
feeling; I think I'd like just to lie here with you." "I'd like
that, too," I said; "let's get as close together as we can; it
feels nice when our stockings rub together." I made sure that
they did, and I rolled right up to him so that our suspenders
were catching together. He was still wearing his shirt, but had
nothing underneath, so I slowly unbuttoned it. Then I started to
caress his chest, moving my palms gently over it. I decided to
see what other triggers he had, and started to whisper to him:
"It's a delicious feeling to wear these feminine clothes; the
girdle is so snug and gently constraining, and the suspenders
pull nicely on the stockings, keeping them feeling just right.
It's wonderful to feel like a girl, isn't it?" As I spoke I
started to finger his nipples, and I felt an immediate response.
I began to caress them seriously, as I might have done with a
female partner, and soon, though small, they were standing
rigidly upright. "That feels nice, doesn't it?" I said. "It's
another of the nice things about being a girl." His cock was
straining now against the frilly material of his panties. "Do you
feel like a girl? Would you like to be a girl? Would you like to
wear a bra over these sensitive little boobs? Then you could try
on a nice dress, too. You would look lovely with nice hair and
your face properly made up too; would you like that?" He was
obviously almost ready to come now, and he nodded in response. He
was obviously responding to the feminine identification, so I
carried on: "You're a very nice girl; you look very sexy in those
nice stockings, with the suspenders stretched over your thighs.
The way they disappear under your panties is very provocative,
and it stimulates me; I'd like to pull those panties down, and
see what there is hiding underneath them." He seemed to like the
idea, so I eased them down very gently, and left a ruffle of
frills round the tops of his stockings. "I like playing with nice
girls, especially when they wear suspenders," I said, and I
started to manipulate his cock very gently. It responded
instantly, and I thought the time was come; I moistened my hand,
and then started to manipulate his glans, fingering it first, and
then squeezing. He lay back, completely overcome, so I started to
grasp his shaft more firmly; I began to slide my hand to and fro,
and tightened my grip as I worked away. "A sexy girl like you,
needs someone to make love to her, and show her how nice it can
be," I said. "You're such a pretty girl, wearing those nice
clothes, I can't resist you." He couldn't resist any longer,
either, and his orgasm came with spectacular force; his rigid
cock pulsated in my hand, and his semen spurted into the air.

He gasped, and then lay back looking at me with a weak smile.
"That was good, was it?" I asked, and he nodded. "I think you
enjoy being a girl, don't you?" He looked a bit sheepish at the
direct question, but finally said "Yes, I do. That was the most
wonderful experience, and I love the feeling I get wearing these
clothes." "Do you want to stay with them for a while?" "Yes, but
I'm afraid they're messed up." "Don't worry about that; I'll wipe
off most of it, and they can be washed; then we can keep them for
you if you'd like." "I think I would," he said. "They have always
done things to me, and I have often wondered what it would be
like to wear them. It's a wonderful feeling." "I feel much the
same," I said; "I have always enjoyed wearing feminine things,
and I particularly like stockings and suspenders, and the nice
firm constriction that I get from a good girdle. It's really
quite comfortable, and if it fits properly it can be really
pleasant." He was very interested in what I was saying, and quite
impulsively said "I really envy you; it must be wonderful to wear
things like that any time you want, and have a choice of
different things." "It is indeed," I said; "and they feel
wonderful under a nice slip and a pretty well-fitting dress."

He didn't say anything, but I could sense his desire to have that
experience. I got a face-cloth and cleaned up the ejaculate that
had fallen on his narrow girdle and the exposed flesh below it,
then I pulled his panties up over his stocking tops, and into
position around his waist, covering his now flaccid penis from
view. I lay on the bed by his side, and cradled him in my arms;
we snuggled together, and I found the way our stockings and
suspenders rubbed together quite exciting. I felt a strong sense
of empathy, and realised with a surprise that there were also
maternal feelings being aroused in me; I was obviously reacting
to his desires, so similar to those I had experienced, and his
youth. "It's nice just to lie together and feel the wonderful
clothes," I said. "Yes," he whispered; "I almost wish I could
stay like this for ever." "Would you like to wear some other
things, too?" "I really would, but maybe we should leave that for
another time." "That's probably best," I agreed; "I'll look out
some really nice things -- I think you might like a dress with a
full skirt and some fluffy petticoats. I look forward to seeing
you again." I hugged him fondly, and once again wondered about
the strange empathy that attracted me to him.

Eventually he decided it was time for him to go, and he got up
and took off his panties, and started to undo his suspenders. I
moved to help him, but he said he could manage, and he would find
his own way out. He took off his stockings, and pulled the girdle
down, then clambered back into his own clothes. He smiled at me:
"That was wonderful," he said. "You just stay there, as you are;
you look so beautiful. I'll be back soon to see you again." He
left, and I relaxed on the big bed; I gradually realised that I
had been quite excited by his visit and his reactions, and began
to feel just a little frustrated. I had spent most of the evening
(I supposed it was evening) in sexual activity of a sort, but I
had not really experienced any physical satisfaction myself. It
also occurred to me that I was probably supposed to present
myself downstairs for my next engagement. There was a tap on the
door, and Jennifer came in.

"I don't know exactly what you did," she said, "but that young
man went away very happy, and the madam is quite happy about your
efforts. She sent me up to tell you that we both have the rest of
the night off." Jennifer lay down on the bed by my side, and we
brushed our legs and arms together in an easy relaxed way.
"Things weren't as bad as I feared," I said, "but I finished up
feeling just a little frustrated. I'm much happier with
activities where both participants get some satisfaction." "I
thought as much," she said, smiling; "I feel much the same way,
too, and it did occur to me that we could console one another."
Her caresses became more obviously sexual, and I found myself
responding to them. I wanted her to bring me to a climax now, but
I felt guilty about my desires, and worried about where Jan was.
As Jennifer continued her love-making, I became more and more
excited, and the mixed emotions I felt began to make me strangely
confused. I was very hazy about where I was, and even who was
with me; I began to think that it was my partner Jan that was
using her consummate skills on me ...

It was Jan! I awoke out of a daze, and found myself back in
familiar surroundings. I was stirring with sexual excitement, and
Jan was making love to me as only she could. "Oh, Jan," I
whispered, "it is you." She looked slightly puzzled, but didn't
pause in her task, and it wasn't long before I had a wonderful
climax.

I lay back feeling happy and very satisfied. Jan relaxed by my
side, and snuggled close to me. "Who did you think it was?" she
asked eventually. "It certainly wasn't you to start off with," I
said. "I was dreaming, and it was somebody else who started to
console me." "Oh? Who was it, and why did you need consoling?"
"It was another of those crazy dreams," I said. "It doesn't seem
real at all now, but by some mysterious chain of circumstances, I
found myself captive in what turned out to be a fairly high class
and genteel brothel. I made friends with another woman there, and
she turned out to be lesbian; we were both somewhat dissatisfied
with our professional experiences, and we were both pining for
our inexplicably missing partners. I guess that drew us
together." "I'll have to keep an eye on you," Jan kidded; "in
your dreams at least you seem to be showing a somewhat fickle
nature. But you've excited my curiosity; just what were your
professional experiences?" "There were only two," I said, "and
then you came to my rescue. The first one involved a somewhat
heavy-handed guy who was turned on by what I was wearing and
quite unceremoniously jumped on me and satisfied himself very
quickly without too much concern for me at all. He did express
appreciation, to be fair." "And what were you wearing?" "A lovely
black corselette, with black stockings. It was required by the
establishment." "But of course," Jan grinned; "I should have
known. What about the other one?"

"That was much more interesting. He was very young, and shy, but
he was also very much turned on by my outfit. After some
preliminary physical contact, it became apparent that he was
going to be even more turned on wearing a similar outfit himself.
I was able to help him do that, and it brought out my empathy and
maternal instincts; and we had a very nice time together chatting
about the wonderful things girls wore, and how nice it was to
wear them. He eventually responded in a most ungirlish way, but
we continued the fascinating conversation." "That's interesting,"
said Jan. "It's almost like your first little session with Len. I
don't have your background, as a transgendered male, but I think
I would have reacted in a very similar way. To me there is
something very appealing about males who aspire to the feminine."
"I know, my love; that's just how you responded to me, and look
where you eventually got me! I did feel a real sense of empathy
for the young guy, and it started to get me excited, so I was
feeling a little bit frustrated when he left. Just after that my
friend came in; she was in a very similar state. We were both
somewhat stimulated by our evening's activities, but had not been
satisfied, and we were both uneasy about what had happened to our
partners. We snuggled together to console one another, and I'm
afraid events followed a rather inevitable course."

"Quite understandable under the circumstances," Jan said,
winking. "Fortunately I have never got into worrying about where
the imagery of dreams comes from," I said. "They obviously call
up some familiar things from everyday life, but they also seem to
juxtapose some quite strange things that don't relate to
experience; I wouldn't want to try and analyse their
significance. I will say, though, looking back over it, that the
'friend', Jennifer, had so much in common with you, that the
image must have been based on you. She didn't look like you, but
that's not unusual in my dreams; people from my real waking life
often occur in them, and though I know who they are, they never
resemble the reality at all."

The strong impressions left by the dream were fading fast, and
all it left me with, now, was a renewed sense of happiness in the
presence of my partner, Jan. I snuggled closer to her.