TRAINING THE PROF
Comments to kittyh55@hotmail.com with `Harte' in the message head.
Part 7
It was a couple of days later when Julian received a further email from Miss.
slutjulia
Slut robin has suggested your panties may be too loose for my
purposes so I have arranged for you to return to that shop. I am
sure you know which one I mean! Mrs Bowen has very kindly
agreed to allow you to go through her unsorted used undies and
try them on, a privilege not normally granted. You may make
your own selection but you must seek her advice as to whether or
not they are tight enough.
Obviously, Mrs Bowen is a member of the Superior Sex and you
will treat her with all the respect due to her.
You may answer any question about yourself she asks, but you
are to say nothing about me.
You will wear your bra but no panties to the shop. Wear a white
shirt so she can see you have a bra on. And use some of that
tarty eau de toilette.
Listen carefully to Mrs Bowen's advice and follow it to the letter.
Needless to say, I shall be checking back with her. Any report of
male arrogance and you will be whipped.
She expects you at six this evening. Don't be late.
Traffic was worse than he expected and Julian did not arrive til five minutes past the appointed hour. The sign on the door read "Closed". He tapped gently. No response. Then more loudly. Still no response. Then he spotted the bell and rang it. A minute later the lady of the shop appeared and after much rattling of bolts, he was admitted to the place of his former humiliation.
`You're late' she pronounced.
`Yes sorry. It was the traffic.'
`Well don't stand there like a spare prick at a wedding, follow me.'
She led him through the curtained recess at the back of the shop into what obviously doubled up as both a sorting space for stock and her sitting room. Against one wall was a chaisse longue. In the middle of the room was a large table on which various female garments rested. In the far corner was her chair with a television beside it. On the coffee table was a dirty mug, an ash-tray and a half-drunk glass of gin.
She pointed to two cardboard boxes full of panties.
`Sort your way through those, pansy.'
`Yes miss, thank you.'
He felt totally humiliated. There he was, a university lecturer, sorting through a box of unwashed undies, watched by an obvious slattern, someone who had already seen him dressed in undies blouse and skirt. He felt it couldn't get worse. How wrong he was.
`Found anything you like, bitch?' He held up a pair of lace-trimmed French knickers.
They wont do. Far too sophisticated for you. Look for panties with flowers on, the sort girls and old women wear.' He blushed. And take your jacket off.'
She got up and came over, running a questioning hand over his shirt front.
`Why are you wearing a bra?'
`I was ordered to.'
I know. Maria told me. I was just checking to make sure you had obeyed.' And she laughed. Now let us be more methodical. First sort this box into thongs, briefs, panties and knickers. And when you have done that select the three you think your Mistress would approve of and bring them over to me for my inspection. And don't take all night. I have better things to do with my time than watch a sissy select his panties.'
There must have been over 40 pairs in the box, mostly briefs. he selected three: a pair of pink briefs embroidered with dark pink flowers; a pair of cream briefs with silver stars; and a pair of white panties, again embroidered with flowers. He picked them up and carried them over to the watching woman. For the first time he registered her blouse. In the light of the lamp it was almost translucent revealing a lacy white bra beneath.
`So this is your selection is it, sissy?'
`Yes Miss.'
`Well at least they are better than your first selection. Drop your trousers and try them on.
`Here?'
`Where else? I am not wasting my time while you traipse to the changing room.'
She leered at him as he removed his shoes and then his trousers. Thank god, he thought. At least I don't have an erection.
`Take your shirt off too, and your socks, so we can get the full effect.'
He had no choice but to obey. Each pair he had to model for her, first walking to the curtained door and back then bending over so she could see how they looked when tight across his bum. Finally she groped his crutch to ensure it contained his apparatus adequately. She selected the pink and the white pair as acceptable.
`Go and look through the other box. We might find something more suitable there.'
He bent to retrieve his trousers but she made it clear he needn't bother with them. He returned to the table just in his bra, his bared buttocks exposed to her attentive gaze, his cock swinging free. She got up and came close, letting her hand glide over his bum. He shivered, but could say nothing.
They are nice' she observed, pointing to a pair of nearly see- through panties. Your Mistress will like those.'
He put them to one side and continued his task Two pairs of lacy white panties followed the see-through panties. She even added a thong for him, although when he modelled them for her they failed to contain his manhood, much to her amusement and his embarrassment.
He stood before her, naked save for his bra holding his purchases in his hands.
`Let's see. That is six pairs at five pounds each. That is 30 pounds.'
He reached down for his wallet and extracted the required sum and handed it over to her.
`Then there is the fitting fee. That you can pay in kind. With your tongue. You have made my pussy all wet, you naughty boy. Get on your knees and lick me clean.'
She opened her legs and pulled up her skirt as he knelt before her. The smell of her cunt was over-powering; personal hygiene was not her forte. All she was wearing was a thong. He pulled it to one side and began to minister to her needs. Her cunt was hairy, her cunt-lips big, her clit prominent.
`Come on slut. You can do better than that. Give me pleasure, or else.' And she pushed his head hard into her ripe crutch.
He bent to his task licking and sucking, desperate to end this saga of humiliation and escape the shop of his downfall. But she was in no hurry and kept him at it for 20 minutes before she orgasmed, flooding his face with cunt-juices.
That was better. Much better' she cooed. If you were trained, you would become a good cunt-licker. Which is all a sissy wimp like you is worth to a lady.'
He rose unsteadily, bowed his head in acknowledgement and began to re-dress. He was just putting his shoes on when a bell rang.
`Hold on while I see who it is' she instructed. Moments later she returned with a lady in her sixties.
Who is this?' she asked. A customer?'
`Yes.'
`And what have you bought dear?'
`Show Miss Ethel your nice panties, wimp.'
Poor Julian, scarlet with embarrassment, showed the old lady his purchases. She fingered them one by one.
`Are these for you, dearie?'
`Yes Miss' he whispered.
`Sorry dearie, I didn't quite catch that. What did you say?'
`Yes Miss, they are for me.'
`He is one of those sissy faggots, Ethel' explained the shop- keeper with a leer.
What a waste' replied the old lady. He looks like he has a nice sized cock.' And reaching down she gave Julian's appendage a firm squeeze. `Mind you, he smells like a bitch on heat. Have you had him up your pussy, darling?'
`Only his fag-face.' The old woman laughed. She squeezed Julian's cock so hard he winced.
`He reminds me of my ex-husband. Another useless male.'
Julian moved back to escape her questing fingers and asked Mrs Bowen's permission to leave.
`Do you have to go now?' she asked.
`I ought to Miss.'
`That isn't what I asked. Do you have to?'
`No Miss.'
`Good. You can wait here and give Miss Ethel a lift home when she is ready.'
The two ladies chatted away over a couple of stiff gins. Meanwhile Julian was set to hand-wash numerous used panties in the bathroom sink. He had done over thirty before he was summoned back to drive Miss Ethel home.
She lived in a run-down terraced house quite close to where Jon Roberts and his mates had student digs. Julian hoped he didn't bump into his student, not that he would guess how or why Julian was driving the old lady home.
He stopped outside her front-door. She sat in the passenger seat, immobile, waiting for him to come round and open the door for her. When he failed to realise, she let him know in no uncertain terms.
Julian scurried round and helped her out only to be told to take her to her front-door.
`Come in and meet my ex-husband' she commanded. Her tone brooked no refusal.
The door opened into a cluttered front-room with another door leading into the back room. She pointed to a chair.
`Leave your jacket there, and remove your shoes.' He obeyed. She came closer and unzipped his fly. Her hand slid inside and pulled out his thickening member before leading him through to the back kitchen-dinette. She called up the stairs for her ex to come down.
The man who emerged was in his late 50s, fat and flabby. At first sight there was nothing very remarkable about him, apart that is from his hang-dog expression.
Come here' the old woman commanded and meet another sissy cock-sucker.' He approached warily. This' she announced is my ex- husband. He was arrested for sucking off some old man in the park and fined. But it cost him a lot more didn't it wimp.'
`Yes Mistress.'
`Tell this pansy what happened next.'
`Mistress divorced me and then took me back in, but as her live- in sissy maid. At the divorce I signed over the house and all my savings. Now I am paid a penny a week.'
That is all you are worth' she snapped. I feed you don't I?'
`Yes Mistress.'
`Fetch your bowl and show this pansy what you are going to have for your tea.'
The man retreated to the kitchen before emerging with a dog-bowl in which were some congealed baked-beans and a few soggy crusts.
`Show pansy how you feed.'
The man looked at her with appealing eyes but there was no mercy there. The man removed his blouse and slacks. Underneath he was stark- naked and bare as the day he was born his soft white skin glistening with sweat. His penis and testicles were shrivelled up, his cock less than two inches in its flaccid length. This was compensated by two pendulous breasts. They hung down like a reproach to his diminutive manhood.
Miss Ethel took Julian's penis in her hand and showed it to her ex.
`At least this pansy has a cock, not like your miserable willy.' She turned to Julian and explained that following his fall from grace, she had fed her ex oestrogen which had had the effect he could see.
She turned back to her live-in sissy maid and ordered him to eat. The man fell on all fours and pushing the bowl with his nose disappeared under the kitchen table where he proceeded to eat as best he could from the bowl.
He's not allowed to use his hands so of course he makes a bit of mess. But that doesn't matter since he cleans up after himself.' She turned her attention back to her driver. Well Mister High and Mighty it is time you pleasured me.'
She sat down on a hard-backed chair and pulled up her skirt. `Get on your knees, pansy, and lick my pussy.'
If anything it was worse than licking Mrs Bowen's pudenda, for although the old lady was clean, her cunt was dry, her lips small, and her clit not to be found. But Julian had no alternative. Once more he found himself worshipping pussy in the only way he could, with his tongue. And all the while he could hear the old man slurping his revolting evening meal from the bowl.
Later that night he woke with a shock from a nightmare. Had he really licked out the old lady's pussy? Had the old man eaten from the bowl? Had it been real? With a shudder he realised it had been.