Chapter 6 On Display
“She is just darling !”
“Oh, Marilyn, you have outdone yourself. My heavens!”
“Look at that dress!”
“Look at her sweet little panties.”
“Look at that wet spot!”
“I want her first!”
I can feel heat rising in my cheeks as they surround me: all five women are looking straight at me; some giggle, while others stare wide-eyed.
But their eyes aren’t the only thing wandering — their hands follow suit.
One woman’s fingers slide up the back of my neck and through my hair; another takes my wrist in her grasp and runs her thumb along the inside of my glove, brushing against bare skin where it dips below my sleeve.
A third cups one cheek and gives it a playful squeeze.
All the while, I’m surrounded by an unceasing chorus of coos and compliments: each remark about how pretty I look or what a perfect sissy I am makes my blush grow hotter.
Marilyn beams at me from the side of the room where she’s perched on a settee, watching intently as her friends inspect her new acquisition.
Even though it embarrasses me to be examined this way, Miss Marilyn was right: each time one of them tells me how pretty I am, warmth floods through me and the pleasure grows deeper.
They really like seeing me dressed up like this.
Their approval is overwhelming, almost intoxicating.
I’m suddenly giddy with happiness; everything about me feels soft and feminine and warm.
A pair of lips presses against my neck; another finds my cheek. Hands run along my arms, squeeze my butt, dance across my thigh. I shiver and moan beneath their ministrations, and every time I let out a sound, they react with giggles and delighted gasps.
“She’s so hard in these!” giggles one woman with a mane of curly brown hair that bounces around her shoulders. Her fingers have barely left the front of my panties since Marilyn introduced me. “Is this all from your pretty clothes, Jessica, darling?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I squeak to another round of giggles and chattered approval.
“She always finds the sissiest boys!”
“He took to it so quickly.”
“They always do! Put a pair of panties on a sissy and they’ll never get soft.” That one belongs to a woman with high cheekbones and a predatory, feline appearance. She pinches my cheeks between her fingers to pivot my head to face her. “Isn’t that right, Jessica?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I repeat.
“Lucille,” she says. “Madame Lucille, if you prefer.”
“Yes, Madame Lucille.”
She tries to fight her grin and fails. “Did Mary teach you those manners or are they natural?”
“All natural, Madame,” I say, my voice thickening as a woman with silvering blonde hair runs her fingers over the lacy edges of my panties. “Just like the rest of me.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, but their reaction makes me glad. A collective coo fills the room; all the women’s faces light up. The hand on my bottom grips harder. One woman leans in closer; I feel her hot breath on my neck and smell her sweet perfume.
“And just how wet do these pretty things get you, Jessie?” Lucille purrs, squeezing my bulge through my panties.
She’s barely even touched it, but already it feels rock hard beneath her grasp.
My body shudders at her touch. “Is it the lovely frillies, sissy, or is it how submissive they make you feel? How completely powerless and feminine? Tell us how much you need to be dominated.”
“Lucille, give the poor thing a break. She’s barely been here for ten minutes and already you’re psychoanalyzing her,” says a redhead with enormous breasts barely contained inside a dress that’s barely more than a lace-trimmed slip.
She turns to address the gathered women.
“Girls, girls! Calm down, for heaven’s sake.
There will be plenty of time for that. I, for one, would like to start the evening properly, wouldn’t you? ”
There’s a collection of good-natured groans and mutters, but the women return to their spots on the sofas and chairs arranged around the room.
Lucille goes last, her eyes locked to mine, fingers slithering off of me before she settles on the edge of a couch, cross-legged, stocking-covered calves emerging from her tight black skirt.
The redhead puts her hand on my back and leads me to the center of the room, facing the women. “I’m Angelique, you sweet thing. Now, the girls here are very excited to see Mary’s newest girl. Are you ready to give us a show?”
“A — a show?”
“Just for us girls.” She trots across the room and settles onto the settee next to Marilyn, brushing her satin skirt out over her legs before she looks back up at me. “Nothing to worry about, just a little sissy fun. Don’t you want to show us how pretty you are?”
I glance at Marilyn, who gives me a firm nod.
A tremor of fear courses through me. I suddenly feel very vulnerable.
I’ve never had this many eyes on me before, much less dressed like this.
I had convinced myself that being Jessica, dressed in her sissy best, would give me a kind of protection.
A dress like armor, and a new identity to keep myself safe.
But now, exposed before so many people, all those feelings of shame come rushing back.
My heart beats faster; my mouth is dry as cotton.
What if they laugh at me? What if they think it’s weird or disgusting or wrong?
I’ve spent so long telling myself it wasn’t. ..
“Take your panties down, darling. Show us that pathetic little clitty. It’s so much smaller than a real man’s cock, isn’t it? Now play with it,” Lucille purrs.
“Until one of us says to stop,” Marilyn says.
“No spurties without permission!” Angelique giggles.
The women all titter at once. My body trembles beneath their stares — but deep inside, something shifts. I look again at Marilyn, who nods firmly once more.
These are her friends , I think. If they didn’t want you to do this, they wouldn’t let you. And Miss Marilyn wouldn’t make you do anything she didn’t know was safe for you.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath in through my nose. It takes every bit of bravery I can muster to force the next word from my lips: “Yes, ma’am.”
My hands fumble as I reach underneath my skirt; each second is an eternity until finally I grab hold of my panties.
As I roll them over my hips, I feel the satin gliding against my skin, and as it reaches the tops of my thighs, a wave of pleasure surges through me when I feel myself exposed to everyone’s gaze.
When the underwear finally falls around my ankles, a moan escapes my throat despite my best efforts to control it.
My cock, finally free of satin, sticks straight up into the lacy softness of my petticoat.
I shudder and the skirts dance around it, drawing out another moan and another shiver of pleasure and — from the gathered crowd — giggles of delight.
I take it all in for a moment. The women watching me, their expressions ranging from excited to eager to hungry; my frilly dress above the cloud of my petticoat.
My stockings, my make-up, my twitching cock.
My heart feels like it might beat its way right out of my chest. It takes everything I have to keep going.
.. but then Miss Marilyn flashes that smile at me, the one that makes me feel like she’ll keep me safe no matter what happens.
Like I can be anything I want to be when I’m with her. A good girl. A pretty sissy. Hers .
And so I start to stroke.