A Talent for Surrender (27 page)

Dan looked down at the clothes. ‘I think you might have to help me. Everything looks very complicated.’

She picked up a garment that looked like a pair of thong panties. ‘When a man puts on women’s clothes he has to hide his family jewels, so we use this. As you can see, it’s made of strong elastic and it’s got a little pocket inside.’ She demonstrated. ‘You put everything into the pouch and then pull it underneath and hook the end of the pocket to the back of the waistband. It’s what drag artists use. It’s called a gaff.’

‘I see. Ingenious.’ He took it from her. ‘Is it painful?’

‘I’m told it’s restrictive but not unpleasant. Shall we find out?’

Dan bent down and stepped into it. He pulled it up his legs and over his hips. As he slipped his genitals into the pouch he saw that the top of the pocket was gathered by elastic to hold everything in place. He fumbled with the crotch of the panties for the end of the pouch.

‘Let me do that.’ Jo knelt down beside him and found the end of the pouch. She fastened the hook to the back of his waistband and Dan felt his tackle being pulled back between his legs and held in place by the strong elastic. ‘And now you’re nice and flat –’ Jo stroked the front of his knickers ‘– this goes over the top.’ Jo handed him a filmy garment made of black lace. ‘It’s the same as mine.’ She flipped up the front of her skirt and Dan saw that she was wearing a pair of panties with four suspender clasps hanging from the band at the top.

He put his own panties on over the gaff. He stroked his crotch. It felt flat and feminine and unfamiliar. His cock stirred but was gripped tightly by the gaff. Jo handed him a pair of sheer black stockings.

Dan sat down on the bed. ‘Let me see . . . I’ve watched women put these on . . .’ He rolled the stocking down and put it on over his toe. The stocking felt silky and delicate against his skin. He pulled it up slowly, making sure there were no wrinkles, as he had seen women do.

He tried to attach it to the suspender clasp but his fingers felt big and clumsy. Jo showed him how. He put on the other stocking and Jo knelt down and put on his shoes.

He looked down at his legs. The stockings gleamed in the light and his calves looked shapely and elegant. He felt an irrational rush of pride. His scalp prickled. ‘I should have shaved my legs.’

Jo laughed. ‘Stand up and we’ll put your skirt on.’

Dan stood up unsteadily on his high heels. He tottered and shuffled as he tried to step into his skirt. Jo zipped it up at the back.

‘Now, before we put on the bodice we’ve got to give you a better chest. These are called Bosom Friends.’ Jo picked up something from the bed and held them out, one in each hand. They were fake silicone breasts. They had dark thick nipples and Dan noticed that they even had the little pinprick bumps around the margin of the areolae.

‘How do they stay on?’ Dan took one of the breasts and turned it over in his hand.

‘There’s glue on the back. Just peel off the tape.’

Dan did as instructed. He positioned the fake breast carefully and pressed it against his skin. Jo repeated the process on the other side. He cupped a hand over each of his breasts. ‘I don’t feel like myself any more.’ He tweaked his latex nipples. Inside the gaff, his cock twitched.

Jo picked up the bodice. ‘It hooks up the front. There are laces at the back, but we probably won’t need to touch those unless it needs adjusting.’ She wrapped it around his body and began doing up the hooks, tugging hard on the material to get the two edges to meet.

‘I think it’s too small.’ He could feel the bodice pulling in his waist and constricting his breathing. His half-hard cock felt pleasurably constricted inside the gaff.

‘That’s the point of a corset. It’ll fit . . . trust me.’

‘Do you think I’d be standing here in high heels and knickers if I didn’t trust you?’

Jo laughed. ‘I suppose not.’ She hooked up the last few inches of the corset. ‘How does that feel?’ She stepped back to look at him.

‘Strange . . . but I think I like it. It’s as if someone’s giving me a tight bear hug.’ Dan ran his hands over the corset. His body felt unfamiliar and different. A wave of shivery tingles slid down his spine.

‘Now all we need is the wig and a touch of make-up.’ Jo went over to the dressing table where there was a long dark wig on a stand.

Dan walked carefully across the room on his high heels. When he arrived at Jo’s side he was breathless and delighted.

‘You look as though you’ve done that before.’ Jo patted the stool in front of the mirror and Dan sat down.

‘Not really, but I made a film at Charlie Brown’s – you know, famous drag club in Atlanta – and one of the “girls” there told me how to walk in heels. I’ve never actually done it before today but it seems to work.’

Dan watched in the mirror as Jo fitted his wig. It felt itchy and tight and he could tell that it would get warm and uncomfortable after a short while, but he loved it. It seemed to soften and feminise his features, disguising his angular jaw and covering his manly brow.

Jo carefully removed his glasses. ‘I’m going to put on some foundation, otherwise your beard stubble will show, then we’ll put on some blusher and do your eyes and lips. It shouldn’t take long.’ She picked up a compact and began to apply make-up base with a sponge applicator.

The sponge was slightly rough and utterly alien. The make-up felt moist and thick against his skin. He could see Jo’s face, inches from his, frowning slightly as she worked. Pinpricks of excitement slid up Dan’s nape and over his scalp.

Jo covered his whole face with make-up, pressing the sponge into the hollows of his eyes and the creases round his nostrils. In the mirror he looked ghostly pale and somehow featureless. She put the compact down and picked up another smaller one and a big soft brush. ‘This is blusher.’ She dabbed the brush into the compact and dusted it across the apples of his cheeks.

Dan strained his eyes to look in the mirror. The blusher seemed to bring his pale face to life, giving it shape and warmth. Heat and tension throbbed at the base of his belly.

‘If you close your eyes I’ll do your eye shadow and liner. I think a nice mauve ought to bring out the blue of your eyes.’

Dan closed his eyes. He could feel her applying the shadow with a small brush. He could feel her warm breath against his face. He heard her putting the eye shadow and brush down on the dressing table. Then he felt her finger pull at the corner of his eye, stretching and elongating his eyelid. She ran something solid along the base of his lashes. ‘What’s that?’

‘It’s the eyeliner pencil. It won’t take long.’ She repeated the process with the other eye. ‘You won’t need mascara because you’ve got such lovely thick dark lashes. I’m quite jealous actually. Blondes like me just can’t get away with it. I’ll just put some lipstick on and then you can look at yourself.’

He hardly dared to breathe as she applied his lipstick. He sat with his eyes closed and his hands on his stocking-clad knees.

‘There. You’re ready . . . and you’re beautiful!’ Jo sounded surprised and delighted.

Dan opened his eyes. He put on his glasses and looked at his reflection. The masculine, manly Dan had been replaced by a soft feminised gentle version of himself. ‘I look like a tartier version of my sister. I’m rather gorgeous, aren’t I?’ He smiled at Jo.

‘You are. You remind me of . . . what’s her name? She was in
The English Patient
 . . . you must know who I mean.’ She stroked his long hair.

‘Not Juliette Binoche?’

Jo laughed. ‘Even I’m not that talented with a make-up brush . . . no, the other one.’

‘Kristin Scott Thomas. Yes, I can see it now.’ Dan gazed at his own reflection.

‘I don’t know . . . put a man in a dress and he turns into a total narcissist. If you can tear yourself away from the mirror I think it’s time for dinner.’ She held out her hand to him.

Jo led him through the living room and down the hall. She opened the front door. Dan paused.

‘You’re not making me go out in public dressed like this?’ His heart pounded.

‘Don’t worry, we’re only going upstairs to Costas’s flat.’ She pulled on his hand and he followed. ‘But you’d better get used to the idea of going out in a dress, because the day will come . . .’

Costas had cooked a simple but delicious meal, a beef stew followed by almond tart. Dan discovered that Costas was warm and witty and widely travelled. He chatted away, never once mentioning Dan’s unusual attire.

But, in spite of Costas’s apparent lack of interest, Dan spent most of the meal semi-hard with his cock trapped inside the rigid grip of his restrictive underwear. The strong elastic felt like a strong hand wrapped around his erection, as tantalising as it was frustrating.

Back in Jo’s flat she made him take off his bodice, skirt and underwear and peel off his fake breasts then bend over the sofa. Jo left the room and came back naked, carrying her strap-on leather harness, a fat dildo already in place, and a bottle of Astroglide. She began to put on the harness and Dan noticed that she had fitted two smaller dildos on the inside for her own pleasure.

He watched as she placed the crotch of the harness between her legs and positioned the first of the silicone cocks on the inside. She slid it into place with a sigh. Then she reached behind to manipulate the second dildo into place against her arsehole. Freed from its elastic prison at last, Dan’s cock was already fully erect. Icy fingers slid up and down his spine.

Jo pulled up the strap designed to fit between her buttocks and struggled with the fiddly leather behind her back then wrapped both ends of the belt around her waist and began to buckle them at the front.

Dan knew that the knobbly bump inside the harness rubbed pleasurably against her clit when she moved. The purple silicone cock stood out from the triangle of leather, curved and obscene.

Jo bent down and picked up the bottle of Astroglide. ‘Lube this thing up then do the same to yourself.’ She handed him the bottle.

Dan flipped the cap and squirted a blob into his hand. He smeared the gel over the silicone cock. He was tingling all over and the darkened tip of his erection was peeping out from its foreskin cowl. He squeezed another blob of lube onto his fingers. The gel came out with an obscene squelching noise.

Dan reached behind him and began to lube his own arsehole. His eyes narrowed and his breathing quickened as he rubbed in the cold gel.

‘Let me see you doing that, bend over.’

He turned round and bent at the waist. He braced himself with his free hand against the sofa. His fingers worked his hole with the lube, circling the puckered opening. He tried to imagine Jo looking at his rigid cock dangling beneath him.

He pressed a slippery fingertip up against his hole and pushed it gently inside. He let out a deep moan. He fucked himself slowly with one finger for several moments then slid in a second. He rocked his hips. He could feel his hole stretching and opening as he fucked himself.

‘Get on your hands and knees.’

He obeyed instantly, removing his fingers and dropping to the carpet. He leaned on his elbows and raised his arse obscenely into the air. Jo knelt behind him and positioned the dildo. With one slow deep thrust of her hips she slid it home.

Dan moaned. Jo grabbed his hips and began to fuck him rhythmically. Already his crotch was tingling and tight, building towards climax. Jo fucked him in short vicious stabs.

Dan’s long fake hair fell in his face. He could hear Jo’s breath hissing out like steam. Heat bubbled inside him. She reamed his arse, plunging in her fake cock over and over again. He imagined her watching as it slid in and out, covered in shiny lube. She lifted one leg and put her foot outside his knee to provide better leverage.

Jo was moaning and muttering under her breath like someone speaking in tongues. He moved his hips in rhythm with her thrusting, pushing back against her cock. His fingers clawed the carpet.

Under his stockings his legs felt prickly and uncomfortable. Jo’s cock plunged into him, thrusting him forwards. After one particularly violent thrust her cock dislodged and she had to reposition it. It slid in easily, almost as if he was swallowing it. He sighed in satisfaction as it filled him.

Jo’s hands, holding onto his hips, were sweaty and slippery and she kept losing her grip. Dan’s heart pounded.

He was shaking all over. He could feel melted make-up running down his face. His body pumped backwards and forwards, meeting her thrusts. His cock was rigid and painful, longing for release. He knew better than to ask for permission to touch himself and it was taking every ounce of self-control to obey her orders.

Jo was making noises; a combination of groans, inarticulate mumbling and noisy laboured breathing. He knew she was going to come. She stepped up the pace, plunging her cock into him over and over again. She leaned forwards, bending over his back. She put her arms under his body and grabbed him by the shoulders. She pulled with her hands, fucking him deep and hard.

Her body above his was wet and slick. Jo’s thrusting grew frenzied and fast. She plunged into him over and over again, pulling violently on his shoulders.

She was making a high keening cry in rhythm with her jabbing hips. Dan bucked beneath her, responding to his inner need. His chest heaved as he struggled for breath.

Jo cries grew shorter and more staccato as she neared orgasm. The constriction in Dan’s crotch was building to a pitch. Jo gave one final cruel jab of her hips and rotated her cock inside him. She was coming.

Dan’s cock was on fire. He longed to grip it in his fist. A couple of quick pumps of his wrist would be all he needed to tip him over the edge. His body was rigid and trembling. Blood boomed in his ears.

Jo trembled all over. Her muscles were taut and straining. She was sobbing and moaning.

When it was over she slid out her cock and rolled over onto the floor. Dan reached over to the sofa for a cushion and placed it under her head. She looked down at his crotch. His cock was rigid, pointing at the ceiling as eager and infallible as her strap-on dildo. She reached out a hand and gave it a playful tap, making it swing.