THE LODGER
				  by Bea

Gentle Reader. Please don't read this if you are under eighteen years of age. 
If you are old enough, but looking for graphic sex or violence, don't waste
your time - this is strictly a low-key, transvestite fantasy....

     
She looked at me with tears brimming in her eyes.  "How could you!  How could
you!"
I took a deep breath.  "We were supposed to get almost thirty percent return. 
How was I to know he was in with a bunch of swindlers."  I grated.  "It's not
my fault!"
"That was almost all of the money we had left - that my mummy left me"  she
retorted.  "In two years you've gone through almost my whole inheritance -
and we don't have a damn thing to show for it - and it's never your fault. 
Who's is it then? Who do I blame?  Me?  You never even told me what you were
going to do."
"I wanted to surprise you."  I mumbled.
"Well you certainly did!"  She said.  "Now what do we do? Ever since you went
around spouting your opinions at work and getting suspended and demoted, our
income has dropped considerably. Now you make even less than me - and the
company is laying off. If either of us get the axe? .. Oh dear!"  And the
waterworks started again.

I grimaced.  She was absolutely right.  I had been suckered in by a lying
swindler.  I knew I'd been gullible, but how could I explain?  It had just 
felt so great, acting the part of an investor - especially when he'd
flattered my insights and expertise on investment strategies.  Now, apart
from a couple of thousand dollars, we were flat broke - and still owed money
on our Mercedes. But I just could not feel any sympathy for her - always
leaving all the decisions for everything up to me - then bitching about the
results.

"Oh stop your whining."  I snapped.  "You always blame me for everything!"
She glared at me.  "Well.  It certainly hasn't been my fault that our money's
gone - I mean, who had to have a Mercedes?  Who had to go around acting like
a big shot all the time?  It certainly wasn't me!"
At that point I made the biggest error I'd ever made.
"Tell you what."  I sneered.  "After this? You make all the financial
decisions.  See how well you do."
"You don't mean that."  She shot back.  "The minute I make a decision you
don't like, you'll yell and shout and try to frighten me."
"For God's sake!  Would you stop being such a whiner!"  I retorted.  "Bitch,
bitch, bitch - then the minute I try to give you the slightest
responsibility, it's oooh this and oooh that.  Anything to get out of it."

Her eyes had dried and were shooting sparks at me.  "Alright Peter!  It's a
deal!  I'm responsible for our money now.  Right?"
"Absolutely."  I smirked.  "Let's see how.." 
Then I said "What do you think you're doing?  That's my wallet.  You stay out
of there."
Before I could get to her, she had picked up my wallet from where it lay and
removed my two bank and one gasoline credit cards.  She waved them in front
of my face.
"First thing?  No more credit card spending.  Not you.  Not me.  Everything
will be cash until we're back on our feet again."
"No way!  We need..."
"See what I mean?  You're yelling already."
"You can't blame me.  For God's sake, I need these cards.."
"No you don't - and I'm not giving them to you.  Going to hit me?  Take them
by force?  Is that how good your word is?"
"Of course I'm not going to hit you."  I replied.  "What a goddam imagination
you have.  Tell you what.  Just give me the Visa card.  I'll set a budget.."
"No!  Any budget setting is going to get done by me.  I'm handling the money
now.  You'll get your cards back when we're not in this much trouble."

I made my next mistake.  I agreed.

The next two weeks were totally humiliating.  She doled money out like a
miser - though I must admit that she was no more generous with herself than
she was with me.  Another change was becoming rapidly evident.  She was
gaining confidence hand over fist.  She demanded to see my financial records,
and was more than a little critical when she saw the follies I'd committed. 
"How could you have been so bloody stupid?"  She asked once.  This was not
the weak little woman I'd married, I thought.

It also became obvious though that our income was barely enough to keep our
heads above water.
"The car's got to go."  She said one night.  "The payments are killing us,
and the insurance is murder."
"Oh c'mon Sara."  I complained weakly.  "Not the car.  It's.."
She just sighed patiently.  "The car is going Peter.  We'll get a nice car -
but the Mercedes?  Color it gone!"

She sold it to a woman at work - the new factory manager.  The cash paid off
our debt on it, and Sara bought a two year old Buick.  It was an O.K car I
guess, but I'd really liked the status of the Mercedes.

Actually, her timing was excellent.  I was laid off the following week.  If
we'd still had the Mercedes, we'd have probably had to take a lot less for
it, selling it out of dire need.  At the same time, Sara got a promotion,
transferring out to the factory to work for the woman who'd bought the
Mercedes.  The promotion gave her salary a good boost, but it wasn't enough
to cover the loss of my wages.  I did do some heavy job searching, but there
was absolutely nothing going anywhere. I gradually got discouraged, and
started staying at home more and more.  Sara didn't seem to mind this too
much - she'd never liked cooking or housework - and with lots of time on my
hands, I found that I wasn't too bad at either.  I also saved quite a few
bucks on coupons at the store.

Sara, in the meantime, was full of compliments about her new boss.  It was
almost all she talked about "Joan this - Joan that"  hero worship just
beaming out of her.  She started working later at night, causing quite a few
fights when she didn't tell me in advance and dinner was ruined.  Then,
without even consulting me, she invited this bloody 'Joan woman' (as I called
her) to dinner at our home.  I was furious, but when Sara pointed out that
our current and future income was dependent on this woman, I calmed down, and
agreed to make a nice dinner.

I wasn't overly surprised by Joan.  A smart looking woman.  Nicely turned out
in a grey suit and blue blouse.  Sensible shoes.  Very definitely a no -
nonsense type of woman.  What did surprise me, however, was how Sara fawned
all over her, hero worship just emanating from her - and the woman's calm
acceptance of this - as if it were her due!
If it had been some months before, I might not have thought too much of this
as Sara had always been somewhat on the submissive side.  Since taking over
the financial running of the house - and becoming the breadwinner though, she
had become a lot more secure in her own opinions and confident in stating
them.  It looked as if she was reverting to type, I thought.

I was bothered by Sara's behaviour in another way.  She had gradually
relinquished command of the kitchen to me, but I'd expected that she'd at
least offer to help with setting the table, or dishing up the meal- but she
didn't.  Not only that?  She had me serve up cocktails before dinner, then
called in a re-order for both of them from the living room.  I dearly wanted
to say something, but decided not to make a fuss.

Over dinner the pair of them got involved in a serious discussion on local
politics - another surprise as I'd never seen any evidence that Sara was even
interested in anything like that.  To tell the truth, Joan made a couple of
obvious attempts to bring me into the discussion, but I shrugged the
invitations off.  "He's not too interested in politics Joan."  Sara
explained, a little giggly with the two drinks she'd had  "But just try him
on the soaps.  He fills me in on all the ladies adventures when I come home
from work."

Joan looked blank for a second. Then "Ah.  The soaps.  TV in the afternoon. 
Right?  I see.  I see."
I blushed.  She saw my embarrassment - and added to it.
"Oh.  I don't want to shame you Peter.  Lots of ladies that stay home watch
TV in the afternoon.  I mean, until dinner has to get cooked, there's not
really that much to do.  Is there?"
She had neatly lumped me in with a bunch of housewives - lazy ones at that,
but I had no way to get out of it.  Sara giggled. "Yes Peter.  You didn't get
a chance to fill me in on Christine's illegitimate baby this afternoon.  Any
advance on that?"  She turned to Joan.  "It really does get very
complicated.."
I interrupted her. "Oh.  I'm sure Joan doesn't want to hear about a TV serial
that a bunch of housewives watch."
It didn't come out quite the way I'd wanted.  I'd now lumped myself in with
the women who watched the show.  Joan smiled gently.  Spoke down to me in a
most condescending manner.  "No.  No.  Peter.  You go ahead.  Fill Sara in. 
I'm sure I'll find it most interesting.."

So I had to spend almost ten minutes under the amused eyes of our guest as
Sara listened and I talked about the various romances and feminine intrigues
that were taking place on that afternoon show.  I couldn't help it.  There
just seemed to be no way to talk about the topic without sounding like a
gossiping woman.  To make things worse, Joan leaned in one time to ask about
what one of the heroines had been wearing.  I didn't have enough sense to lie
and say that I didn't know - and described in detail the silk shantung
skirt - the sateen blouse - and even the bloody accessories that had been
worn by the woman in question - including the shoes and handbag.

Finally, my ordeal was over.  I actually felt relieved to escape to the
kitchen to wash up, fully expecting to be left alone again.  Naturally, this
wasn't to be.

Sara came in.  "Oh Peter!  I'll do the dishes later.  Why don't you come and
join us?  You've been so good!"
"I'd rather get them over and done with."  I said, more frightened of
additional exposure to our guest than of giving more impressions of being a
housewife.
Sara sighed.  "O.K then.  Move over.  I'll give you a hand."  She shouted
over her shoulder.  "Joan?  Why don't you come join us in the kitchen?  I
have to help Peter with the dishes, and he won't leave until they're
finished."

And here I was again, under the scrutiny of this intimidating woman. 
Nervously, I splashed my hands in the soapy water, raising a small tidal wave
onto my pants and shirt.
Joan joined us, sitting at the kitchen table.  She smiled.  Took a sip of her
after dinner drink.  "I wouldn't laugh at you for wearing an apron you know."
I looked at her, baffled.
She continued to smile.  "Well?  Lots of men wouldn't care to be seen wearing
an apron.  Doesn't fit the macho image.."
"Oh that."  I responded.  "Wouldn't bother me one bit.  It's just that we
don't have such a thing .."
"Oh Peter!"  Sara said.  "We've got lots.  Here.  In this drawer.  See? 
Here's two.  One for you.  One for me."
"I didn't know  - I mean I'd forgotten .. I .."  I stammered as Sara fitted
something over my head then tied me in.  Gazing in horror, I saw her don an
apron herself - a little gauzy, frilly thing - almost a twin of the one I was
now wearing.  Joan's smile widening.

I didn't think it possible, but things actually got worse.  Just as we
finished, Sara laid a gentle hand on my arm.
"Peter?  There's something we must talk about."
She sounded serious.  "Not in front of Joan.  Surely?"  I said.
"But oh yes."  She replied.  "See?  We need the money.."
"Oh c'mon Sara!" I complained.  "Joan doesn't want to hear this.."
"Doesn't matter."  Sara replied.  "She knows all about our finances.  I've
told her."
"Oh Sara."  I moaned.  "It's none of her business."
"Shush!"  Sara said firmly.  "Just wait until you hear what I have to say,
would you!"
She had never used that tone of voice on me before but, standing there in my
feminine little apron, I couldn't raise a real sense of insult.  I couldn't
even raise a complaint as she drew me back into the dining room.  Had me sit
down - still in my apron, beside Joan and her.

Joan took over.  "Peter?  It would make an awful lot of sense if you guys
would rent a room out to me.  I need a place to stay for about six months. 
Sara and I get along really well - and we have a lot to talk about just now -
a really big project.."
"But..?" I started.
"Peter?"  She said firmly.  "Please don't interrupt."
Sara shook her head.  "You're always doing that."  She said reprovingly. She
looked back to Joan.  "Please go on Joan"  she said adoringly.
"Sorry."  I said meekly.
Joan showed her approval of my surrender.  Put her hand on my thigh - right
on top of the apron frill there.
"There, there.  It's all new to you Peter, so it'll take some getting used
to, but I'm sure you'll see how good an idea it is.  You two can use the
money from my rent.  Sara and I can drive to work together - and back.  It
won't cost you much more for you to cook one extra portion at meals.."
"Or do one little extra laundry.."  Sara added.

"But what about..?"  I started.
"Peter!  Will you stop interrupting!"  Sara exclaimed.
"But I'm just.."
"I don't care what.."
"Girls!  Girls!"  Joan said loudly.  "There's no need to.."
"You called him a girl.." Sara tittered.
"Oh tush!"  Joan said.  "Girl!  Shmirl!  He's in an apron.  I just got
confused.  You don't mind. Do you, Peter?"
"Well .. Yes.. Actually.."  I began.
"Great!  Then it's all settled then.  Very good!"  Joan boomed.  I'll move in
tomorrow night, if that's all right by you dear."  She added turning to Sara.
My wife simpered coyly at her.  "Tonight would be O.K too - if you wanted." 
she breathed, all aflutter.
Then Joan did something that left me agape.  She reached her hand out and
took hold of my wife's shoulder.  Pulled her into her side - and kissed her. 
Full on the lips!  Sara's arms snaked up around her neck, and she stood on
tiptoe to kiss her back enthusiastically!  If these women weren't letting me
know that they were lovers, I was crazy.

But I didn't know what to do!  I must have stood there dumbfounded for three
or four seconds.  Joan finally took her lips up from Sara's.  Looked me
straight in the eye.  "Don't you have something to do in the kitchen?"  She
grated.
As I fled, she lowered her lips onto my wife's again.

I stayed in the kitchen for about twenty minutes.  When I came back to the
dining room, they were chatting about something.  I could see traces of
Sara's lipstick on Joan's cheek - and Sara's hair was mussed, and her face
was flushed.
"Ah!  There you are Peter.  How's about a brandy for Joan?"
"I'm not a servant."  I said, starting to get mad.
"Peter?"  Joan said.  "Be nice.  Would you?  I'd hate to think that you two
would start quarreling.  So why don't you just do as she asks, eh?  It makes
everything so much easier.  Don't you think?  I mean, it's so uncivilized to
have problems.  Don't you think?"

Twice in one statement, she had asked me what I thought.  At the same time, I
was pretty sure that she didn't give a tinkers dam about what I thought.  Her
utter air of confidence shook me though.  Nervously, I dropped my eyes.
"No.  No Joan.  Of course not..."
"I'll have a brandy too, while you're at it darling."  Sara said.
I served the two of them their glasses.  Joan thanked me then asked.  "Peter? 
Do you have a sewing kit in the house?"
"Yes Joan. I think so."
She took her suit jacket off and tossed it on a chair between us.  "Be a
darling, would you?  All of the buttons on this jacket are loose.  Just
tighten them up a smidgen, would you?"  Then she turned to Sara.  "Why don't
you come closer Sara pet?  Joan can hardly hear you."
Sara giggled.  "But we're as close as... Oh!"  Then, grinning at me  "isn't
she a devil!" Got up and went over to Joan - and sat on her lap, then settled
back into her embrace.

Helplessly, I got up and started looking for the sewing kit.  While I was in
the next room, I heard Joan call out  "and.. Dearie?  Why don't you put a
pretty apron on?   Seems more appropriate somehow."  This was followed by my
wife's audible giggle  "Oh Joan!  You are a devil!"

I had determined that there was no way that I was going to wear any kind of
apron again.  When push came to shove, however, it didn't seem an issue worth
making a fuss over.  Accordingly, we spent quite a fair amount of time
sitting together watching TV.  My wife sitting on Joan's lap being kissed,
cuddled, and fondled - making all sorts of appreciative noises at appropriate
times.  Me, in the meanwhile, sitting in a frilled apron, busily engaged in
ensuring that my wife's lover had a jacket with firmly attached buttons.

Finally, this evening of shame came to an end.  Joan seemed to make her mind
up quickly.  Bade us both goodnight - and applying a particularly long,
passionate kiss on Sara - and a perfunctory peck on my cheek.  I breathed a
sigh of relief when she finally went - glad for the chance to have a real
conversation with my wife.  But it was not to be.

Sara had changed into a nightgown by the time I got to the bedroom.  Had a
glazed expression.  "Isn't she dreamy?"  She purred.  "Just dreamy!"
"I think I've had enough of this."  I said sharply.
Sara looked at me as if I had gone crazy.  "Enough of 'what' exactly?"
"You and that bloody woman!"  I replied.
"Bloody woman?  Joan?  What are you saying?"
I was astonished at this woman's effrontery.  "What do you think?  All that
kissing and cuddling - you looked like a pair of queers!"
"You!  You have the gall to say something like that?  How dare you!"

Her vehemence shook me.  I lost my certainty.  "Well?  You were kissing and
embracing her.  As if she was a man for goodness sake!"
"Are you accusing us of being perverts?"  She shouted.  "Just say so.  I'll
tell her what you said.  Then just see what happens!"
My mouth went dry all of a sudden.  Yelling at her was one thing.  There was
no way that I wanted to have this kind of talk with Joan.
"Well, no.  I wasn't saying anything like that."  I said carefully.
"What then?"
"It just seemed .. Awful .. Eh .. Friendly."
"Well?  We are friends.  Am I supposed to act as if I didn't know her?"
"That's not what I'm saying." I replied, getting very careful mow.

"O.K"  she said, seemingly placated.  "But talking about perverts?  How do
you think I felt - my husband for god's sake flitting around in frilly aprons
- sewing buttons on her jacket.  Don't you think that you were maybe just a
little funny yourself?  Maybe you see yourself as her girlfriend?"
"Her what?"
"Sucking up to her.  Sewing her buttons on -  don't you think that that's
what girls do for their boyfriends?"
"But.  But.." I started.
She shook her head.  "Enough already.  I'm tired.  D'you want to continue
this conversation with Joan tomorrow night?"
My mouth was dry again.  "No.  I don't see that we have any need to.."
"Fine!"  She snapped.  "Honest to God.  You're starting to sound like a
dipshit woman!  Can we go to sleep now?"

Joan moved her stuff in the following evening.  She wouldn't let me help,
except to hang her clothes in the closet.  Any heavy boxes she handled by
herself - or got Sara to help her. She had a white trash bag filled with
dirty wash.  She handed it to me.  "I'm not too fussy about my clothes - just
throw these in with your regular wash?  But I really do like my undies
touched up with a medium hot iron before you put them away.   You wouldn't
mind, would you?"
With my wife looking on, grinning, I blushed and said I didn't mind at all.

And, before I knew it, she was ensconced in our house.  Evening after
evening, I sat and watched the two of them do heavy necking - while I'd be
doing something like repairing lingerie, or crocheting.  A couple of times,
it even happened that Sara would wake me up about two in the morning.  "Just
had this great idea"  she'd say.  "Think I'll mention it to Joanie.."  Then
she'd saunter to the dressing table, brush her hair, freshen her lipstick,
apply some perfume - and away she'd go.  I wouldn't see her again until
breakfast - but I'd hear all sorts of noises from down the hall during the
night.  She'd be all flushed and starry eyed in the morning, while Joan would
be smilingly polite to me.

After a while though, with no clashes of any kind, I started regaining my
confidence.  After all, Sara was my wife - Joan was just a lodger.  I started
by not wearing my aprons - at least until just before they came home.  I also
started inventing conversations with Joan where I won every kind of debate
with withering sarcasm.  I also found myself talking away out loud in these
mental exercises.  Practiced all the looks and deliveries associated with
"Are you talking to me?"  Gradually, my confidence returned.

One Saturday morning, Sara was at the beauty parlor, leaving Joan and myself
to share the house.  She had been very nice at breakfast - had actually given
me a hand to tidy away the dishes.  I started thinking to myself, trying to
bolster my courage.  She was reading the newspaper, with a cup of coffee on
the table beside her.  She took a sip, then screwed her mouth up.  Held the
cup out towards me  "Ugh!  This has got cold.  Peter?  Be a pet, get me a
refill, would you?"
And I said it.  I actually did.  Though my voice was weak and quavery - not
the forceful delivery I'd rehearsed. "Are .. Are  .. You talking to me?"

She put the cup back down again.  Smiled nicely.  "What did I say that made
you think I wasn't?  Did I use the wrong tone?  Speak too quietly for you?"
I could only stand and stare at this calm, confident woman - my truculence
all gone - wishing desperately that I'd never opened my mouth.
Then her mouth opened in theatrical surprise.
"Aha!  I see!  It was the name 'Peter' you didn't understand.  Was that it?"
I shook my head violently.  "No Joan.  I'm sorry.."
"But you did ask if I was talking to you, didn't you - or are you saying that
I'm crazy?" An overlaying threat in her voice now.
I shook my head again.
"Which brings me back to my question - was it the name 'Peter' that caused
the problem?  You want me to call you something else.."  She thought for a
second.  "Say 'Priscilla'? 'Petula'?  Nah!  I've got it!  Pamela!  How does
that sound?"
"No .. No.. No.. Please?"  I gabbled.  I didn't mean.."
"I understand"  she said kindly.  "Just a freudian slip, eh?"
I nodded. "Yes.  That's what it was Joan.  A freudian slip."
"Yes.  Well all right Pamela.  Would you be a little doll?   Go get me a
refill?"
I stared at her.
"Pamela?"  She said gently.  "Please be a good girl.  Do as Joan asks.  I
mean, I'd hate to go and get my own coffee."
"Yes Joan."  I acquiesced.

When I got back with her coffee, she took it from me, put it on the table
beside her.  "Thank you Pamela."  She said.  "No.  Don't leave yet.  I want
to talk to you."
I hung my head.
"You were right on the point of being naughty.  Weren't you?"  She said.  
"Don't tell fibs now. Tell the truth.  You were, weren't you?"
"Yes Joan"  I admitted.
She sighed contentedly.  "See?  That wasn't so bad, was it?"
I shook my head.
"Would you like to kiss and make up now?"  She asked.
I nodded slowly.
"How nice.  But I got that mixed up a little, but you'll forgive me, won't
you?"
I didn't know what she was talking about, but nodded agreement.

"See?  What I meant was make up and kiss - not the other way around.  But
it's all the same, isn't it?"
I don't understand what you're saying Joan."  I mumbled.
She reached up, hooked a finger in the waistband of my apron, pulled me down
into her lap, put an arm around my shoulder, stared me straight in the eyes
until mine dropped.
"Let me explain then Pamela.  Remember that tv commercial last night?  The
one you commented about?  The bright red, wet looking, lipstick where they
multiplied it on the screen about twenty times.  Remember?"
"Yes."  I whispered.
"Well then.  Here's what you do.  Sara has that shade, the very same.  I want
you to go and make your lips up - nicely now! - Don't want a mess, do we? 
Then, you come back and kiss the back of my hand."
"Your hand?"  I asked.
"Yes.  That way, I can keep it there for as long as I like - knowing that you
apologized nicely for being a naughty girl - 'cause that's what you were.
Right Pamela?  Say it now!"
"I was a naughty girl."
"And who am I talking to?  Do you know now?"
"Me."
"And who is 'me' pray tell?"
"Pamela."
She pushed me to my feet.  "There! Wasn't that a nice chat?  Now run along
like a good girl.  Put your lipstick on for Joan."
It took me a while to get the lipstick on correctly.  I'd seen Sara do it,
naturally, but couldn't hope to match her speed.  I watched my lips get
redder and redder in the mirror.  I finished up using a brush to contour the
shape.  Then rubbed my lips together to spread the lipstick evenly.

Joan examined the results carefully before allowing me to kiss her hand.  The
imprint was highly visible and she lifted her hand to make sure it met her
requirements.  Nodded her approval. Then  "Very, very, good Pamela - now why
don't you run and freshen your makeup?"
"But I thought it was only for the kiss Joan."  I stammered.
"Silly little goose!   Now do as Joan suggests O.K?  Or do you want to have
another little chat?"
"I didn't mean.."
"Shush!  And while you're through there, why don't you change into that nice
full, frilly apron - you know, the pretty one?  Hurry up and come back now. 
I want to see how you look."

As I was returning for her inspection, the front door opened and I could hear
Sara calling.  "Hey Joan.  Sara's home."
My new apron was full in the skirt and had a frilled bib top with wide
frilled straps. It swirled around me as I entered the room where Joan sat.
"Yes!  Much prettier."  She said, just as Sara came into the room behind me. 
And , to Sara.  "Isn't Pamela much prettier now?"
"Pamela?"  Sara giggled  "What's been going on while I was gone, eh?"

Joan yawned theatrically. "Well she and I had a nice little chat about
identities.  We decided that Pamela was a far more appropriate name than
Peter, didn't we, Pamela?"
As she was talking, Sara walked past me and gave Joan a kiss.  Then, turning,
she got a frontal view of me for the first time.  Put a hand to her mouth to
stifle another giggle.  Then her eyes narrowed dangerously.
"That's my lipstick you've got on.  Now Peter - or Pamela - whatever your
name is, I'll let you borrow stuff - but you have to ask for it first".  She
came walking towards me, very threatening.  "Understand?"
"Oh!  I'm sorry Sara"  Joan said.  "It was me that asked her to put it on.  I
never thought .."
"Oh!  Then it's perfectly ok"  Sara said, stopping. Then turned her attention
to me again.  "My apologies Pe.. Pamela.  I shouldn't have snapped at you. 
But please remember that you can borrow anything of mine that you want -
clothes, makeup, jewelry - but ask first - unless Joan is telling you to do
it of course. Understand?"
"That's very generous of you Sara."  Joan said,  "Isn't it, Pamela?"

I was red faced at the humiliation that was being heaped on me by both of
these women - especially my wife, talking to me as if I wanted her bloody
clothes and stuff.  But, at the same time, I had to be very careful of Joan. 
Accordingly, I managed a weak smile of gratitude and agreed with her.  Then I
decided to press my luck a little.
"Joan?  Is it all right for me to take the lipstick off now?  Now that Sara's
seen me in it?"
"But why would you want to take it off?  You just put it on.  No, Pamela.  I
kinda like you that way.  Just keep it on.  I'll let you know.."  She added
vaguely.
"Thank you Joan." I said meekly - and ended up spending the whole day wearing
the bright cosmetic. 

I was too scared of her to ask again. So actually it was Sara that got me
free of it that night as I was getting ready for bed.
"You can't wear that stuff to bed."  She told me.
"But Joan said.."
"She just forgot.  That's all.  Trust me, I'll tell her that I said it was
ok."
"Thanks Sara." I said gratefully.
"De nada"  she smiled back. "But you know? That color's not really for you. 
You might want to use a darker shade tomorrow - I've lots of tubes on the
dresser.  Help yourself."

I looked at her in horror.  "But she only wanted me to use lipstick today. 
She didn't say anything about tomorrow."
Sara shrugged.  "Sure?"
And all of a sudden, I wasn't.
She changed the subject.  "You look a lot cuter in the frillier aprons.  I've
got some real pretty ones in a drawer somewhere.  Want me to look them out
for you?"
I didn't answer.  She shrugged.  "O.K.  Just asking."

We had just climbed into bed when a knock came on the door.
"Is that you, Joanie?"  Sara called.  "Come in."
And Joan entered our bedroom.  She wore a dark blue terry robe over light
blue pajamas.  Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup - not that she wore a
lot anyway.  She also looked very serious. I thought she was upset because
I'd removed the lipstick.
"Sara said I could take it off."  I explained immediately.
She looked puzzled.  "Take what off?"  She said.
"Her lipstick."  Sara explained.
Joan smiled broadly.  "That's ok then Pamela.  Anything Sara tells you to do
is fine by me."
I blushed some more.  It looked as if my wife was now definitely my
mistress - and I don't mean in a sexual way.

"What do you need love?"  Sara asked her, smiling an invitation.
In answer, Joan came over to my side of the bed, took one of my ears between
her fingers.  "C'mon Pamela.  Out of there."  She said, pulling me.
"Ow!  Ow!"  I squawked getting out of bed.  "I didn't do anything Joan. 
Honest!"
"You haven't been a naughty girl?"
"No.  No!  Honest.!"
She laughed.  "Just teasing.  But there's something I want you to check for
me.  Ok?"
"Sure Joan.  Ow!  My ear!"
"She laughed, and let go.  "Sorry.  But I have this feeling that my mattress
is far too soft.."
"I'm sorry Joan, but what..?"
"I'd like you to go and try it out.  Ok?"
"Sure Joan.  But how can I tell?  I mean, it might be too soft for you, but
ok. For me.."
I faltered to a stop.  She had pulled her robe off, thrown it over a chair
and was climbing into my bed.  Looked up at me, a challenge in her eyes, just
daring me to object.  Sara's mouth opened in delighted amazement for a few
seconds, then she slid over into Joan's waiting arm, nuzzled into her neck,
making kissing noises.  Joan smiled in contentment, kissed the top of Sara's
head affectionately, then looked up at me, an expression of impatience
starting to show in her eyes. "Well?  What's keeping you?  Just go and try it
out for a couple of nights.  O.K Pamela?"
And Sara giggled, then lifted her head to grin at me mockingly.  "It is
alright, eh Pamela?"
And I was ousted from married life as of that moment.

>From then on, it was a series of ever increasing dominance on their parts. 
Sara hardly paid me any attention at all, but if she did it was to deride my
increasing effeminacy. It had become quite obvious that Joan liked to see me
humiliated, and Sara took a delight in making her new lover happy.
I'd serve them breakfast in bed, the two of them obviously sated from sex. 
Sara would sit up in bed as I brought the tray in.
"Good morning princess Pamela.  Sleep well?"   Then she'd look adoringly at
Joan. "I would have - but this randy thing wouldn't let me."

And further humiliations followed.  Sara would be so feminine and clinging
around Joan, but boss me around as if I were a drudge - a female drudge at
that.  After a while I noticed that some articles of clothing were
disappearing from my drawers and closets.  I couldn't figure out what was
going on until I actually found two pair of my pajamas in one of Sara's
drawers.  Puzzled: the laundry and ironing were my job now; and I was fairly
sure that they hadn't been put there by me, I just moved them back to my
drawer.

That evening, I was cleaning up the dinner dishes while Sara and Joan relaxed
over after-dinner drinks.  I heard the maids bell ring in the dining room
(this had been a present from Sara to me   "It must be so demeaning to be
shouted for all the time"  was her explanation) so reported in there
immediately, wiping my hands on my apron.
"Pamela dear?  Something's been puzzling me. I've been meaning to ask you. 
Did you move some pairs of pajamas from my dresser today?"
"Yes."  I answered  "but they were in the wrong drawer.  They were mine.  So
I moved them."
She shook her head negatively. "Well just go and move them back again.  I've
taken a fancy to them.  They're a teeny bit small for me, but Joan thinks I
look cute in them - don't you darling?"
Joan looked disinterested.  "Oh yes.  Very cute."
"But I've only got one other pair."  I protested.
Sara shook her head again.  "When you put them back where I told you, look in
the bottom right hand corner of the dresser. There's some baby dolls there,
at least two pairs.  There are also matching peignoirs hanging in back of the
closet.  Bring them all back here please."
"But..?"  I started weakly.
"Pamela?"  Joan said, warning me.

I did as I had been told.  There were actually three sets of feminine baby
dolls in the drawer.  Two in pink, one in dark blue. There was also a 
nightgown, light blue.  I could only find three matching peignoirs in the
closet though.  I took them all through to her.  She took them from me and
starting looking through each one.
"Don't just stand there.  Go get me a pair of scissors."  She said.
I wondered - was she going to cut the nightwear up?   Nah.  It seemed awfully
new. I went and got the scissors.  Gave them to her when I returned.
"Yes."  She said. "I bought them to wear for you Joan.  Didn't know you
didn't care for the frilly female stuff then.  So other than the nightdress,
they're all brand new."  She used the scissors then to cut the store tags
away.  When she was finished, she handed them all back to me.
"Did you just say that you only had one pair of jammies left?"
"Yes." I said.
"Fine!  When you wash them, put them in my drawer along with the others."
"You want my last pair?"
"How can they be your last pair?  Unless I miscounted, you've got four pairs
of jammies in your hands.  So?  You put them in your drawer, and they're
yours.."  She giggled a bit.  "You can model a set tonight before you go to
bed.."  She turned to Joan, pointedly ignoring me now.  "I was thinking about
that computer repair you mentioned last night.."
I was obviously dismissed, so took my new nightwear and placed it in my
drawers.  Hung the robes in my closet.

You may wonder why I put up with all of this degradation.  Two reasons
mostly.  One, I had nowhere to go and no money to speak of.  At the same
time, Joan and Sara had said that Joan was to be our lodger for only six
months - so I had my chance to get back on to a closer relationship with Sara
after Joan had gone.

For some reason, I had fallen back in love with Sara.  Maybe it was because
she mistreated me, or rubbed my nose in her and Joan's relationship, I don't
know.  I just kept hoping that she'd come back to me.  I knew that I could
never regain my old status with her, but hoped that, with Joan leaving, we
could straighten things out.

Actually, she came back to me that night, but in a different way than I'd
anticipated.  Before retiring for the night I modeled one of the pink baby
doll sets and matching peignoir at Sara's request.  By this time I'd
accumulated a lot of lipsticks, so had little problem in finding one that
complemented what I was wearing.  I'd expected to be teased unmercifully by
both women, but wasn't.  It was something entirely different.

Sara was sitting in Joan's lap, as usual.  She whispered something in Joan's
ear that made her eyes widen in amusement, then got up and came over to me.
"Pamela?" She whispered "How'd you like to come and help me get ready for
bed?  Huh?  Show Joan what a nice little ladies maid you'd make?  Help Sara
get ready for bed?  Help take her clothes off, put her jammies on?  Brush her
hair?  Help make her pretty like you?"
I shook my head.  This was going too far - but she had a hold of my upper arm
through the sheer fabric of the peignoir, and was gently tugging me in the
direction of my old bedroom.
"You feel so nice and soft in that."  She commented. "I wish I'd thought of
having you wear pretty things before now.  We could have had such fun - just
two girls together - no?"

I did help her undress.  I did look out her nightwear for her - and help her
put it on - a sexy green nightdress - not as frilly and feminine as what I
wore, but sexy.  Then I brushed her hair - and tied it up with a ribbon - all
of these activities in front of Joan's amused surveillance.  She had said
nothing at all until Sara was all ready for bed.  Then she spoke.  "Seems
kinda unfair to me Sara.  Pamela gives you a helping hand.  What are you
gonna do for her?"
"My goodness!" Sara said.  "I hadn't thought of that!"

And Pamela was paid back.  'She' was sat at the dressing table, in front of
the mirror. Had her eyebrows plucked.  Had false eyelashes glued to her own
ones, then had her eyes fully made up with shadow and liner.  Had blusher
applied to match her lipstick (I was never without this cosmetic now) then
perfumed.  Finally, had 'her' hair curled with an electric curling iron.

Having been 'warned' by Joan, I naturally reacted with happy girlishness as
every change was made. A strange thing started to happen though.  As I
watched, a gradual transformation from a weak looking man to a rather
attractive young woman became evident.  I also realized that I liked the
attention that Sara was paying me.  The smell and feel of the cosmetics
became more and more attractive to me - and the sensuous feel of my robe and
nightwear added to the experience.  To tell the truth, a lot of my 'happy'
reactions weren't too far from reflecting how I really felt.

Then, something seemed to pass between the two women.  Pamela had lifted me
up from my chair, had taken my hand and led me over to where Joan sat.
"Doesn't she look pretty Joan?"
Joan grinned. "I'll say!"
As she spoke, I happened to look at something I had seen all the time I'd
been in the room, but couldn't figure.  A sort of harness made of straps,
lying on a chair in the corner of the room.   At that very instant, I
realized that it had to be the method used by Joan to become the 'man' in
their relationship. She saw my glance, and read my expression correctly
it was then that I sensed the unspoken communication that flashed from her to
Sara.

I had been sure that once Sara was finished I'd be sent back to my room - and
I've since come to the conclusion that Sara originally intended to do just
that.  This message, or whatever it was that flashed between them, seemed to
change her mind.  With a strange look on her face, Sara led me over to the
foot of the bed and had me sit there.  Then she sat beside me, put an arm
around my shoulder and pulled me towards her.   Before I knew what was
happening, she was kissing me on the lips, caressing my body through the
peignoir and baby dolls as she did so.

Next, she was pressing me backwards so that we both ended up laying on the
bed side by side kissing and caressing each other.  I did resist her for a
moment or two - which only made her chuckle softly.
"Don't be silly Pamela"  she whispered in my ear.  "You're too nice and soft
and weak - and you know you like it, don't you?"  She wasn't even exerting
herself as she spoke, but I couldn't stop her - and she was right in her
assumptions - even though I was humiliated at Joan see my wife dominate me in
this fashion, I was gradually getting lost in a sexual haze, totally
surrendering to this woman.

"Do you know Pammie?"  She whispered  "that all girls like foreplay.  Here,
let me show you some that you're sure to like.."  And somehow, I was lying
face down over her knees., With her now sitting up.

And she lifted up the hem of my robe, and the tops of the baby dolls and
spanked me on my panties.  She didn't hurt me, it was just little love taps
on my bottom - and she was right.  I squirmed and squealed helplessly - but I
loved it. Then she slid out from under me, turning me to face upward as she
did so.  Started stroking my erection.
"Look at her cute little thing here Joan.  Like a little rosebud.  Not much
bigger than .. Well, certainly not as big as your.."  She giggled as she
pulled my panties down, fitting her warmth around my erection.  Then she rode
me until I came.

I was so sleepy after that.  Emotionally exhausted I guess.  Again, I
expected to be sent back to my room, but they had something else in mind.  I
ended up in bed with the two of them with my wife giving me a demonstration
of how to act like a woman as Joan, now wearing the harness 'thing' made love
to her.  I cried a little at the shame of being so spineless as to lie there
in feminine finery as a woman made my wife, who had just dominated me, into a
docile, submissive little creature.

In the morning Sara made me try one of her dresses on.  It was a little big
in the bust so she made me take it off, put a padded bra on, then made me
wear it again.  "Going to be a little girlish in bed?  Well. Lets have you a
little girlish during the day as well.  Eh?"

She relented later that morning and let me change back into my normal
clothes, but from then on I was totally at the mercy of any whim that crossed
her mind, as far as what I wore was concerned.  One day, before she and Joan
left for work, she actually made me put on a tight, scarlet, satin dress,
seamed nylons, and extremely high heels. Full makeup.  "If I come home early,
I'd better find you still in this"  she warned me. I was still in it when she
came home.  Then she spanked me for being such a sissy.  It wasn't just love
pats that time.

Joan, surprisingly, stayed out of Sara's way when it came time to
'discipline' me.  She did spank me once for burning a hole in one of her
slips when I ironed it, but I figured I'd deserved the punishment - I had
been careless after all.  She was very strong and I cried pretty quickly.

After a few months I was more girl than anything else.. My hair had been
styled and lightened a couple of shades, and I put it up in rollers almost
every night.  Accepting the fact that Sara would dress me in women's clothes
at the slightest provocation,  I figured I'd save the humiliation by beating
her to it and wearing them voluntarily.  She pierced my ears one night -
which I really didn't mind, as I then had a much bigger selection of earrings
I could wear.

She also started taking me out with her occasionally.  At first I was
terrified, but gradually it dawned on me that as I looked, dressed, and acted
just the way a woman of my age would act, no-one paid any more attention to
me than they would to any other young woman.  I even went into some dress
boutiques with her a couple of times.  Helped her buy a couple of blouses and
skirts.  She once even bought a long skirt for me that I'd admired.

At home, Joan was the undisputed master.  Sara could wear pants at the odd
time if she so chose, but there was no doubt that Joan didn't care for her in
them.  As far as I was concerned?  Forget it - strictly skirts, dresses - not
even shorts.  To tell the truth, once I got used to my new attire, I much
preferred it - I especially loved a form fitting long dress in a jersey
wool - just made me feel very film starrish - decidedly glamorous, which was
a damn sight more than any of my other clothes had ever managed.

Finally, the six months was coming up fast on the horizon.  Nothing was
mentioned on the subject of Joan's departure and for some time I got down in
the dumps figuring that it had all been a line of bull.  But then, I started
to hear little levels of tension in the dialogue between my two bosses. A
coolness seemed to be forming which I did my utmost to ignore - scared out of
my mind that I would maybe do something to annoy them, and have them join
forces against me.

And one morning, just as I got to their bedroom door with their morning tray,
I heard some words, that included Joan's voice saying  "but it has been six
months you know .. I can't very well refuse.."
And Sara's retort, though muffled so that I couldn't hear all of the actual
words did include  "well, I think you're being very mean.."
I backed up the hall a little, then coughed as I approached the door again,
letting them know I was there before I knocked.  I also pretended not to see
the signs that an argument had been taking place.  Breathed a major sigh of
relief to get out of there with a safe hide.

I haven't mentioned the fact that Sara had me into their bedroom on a fairly
consistent basis now for a 'communal' evening.  She'd drop me a casual
invitation, but there was no ignoring it for me.  I learned to make myself up
and to put my prettiest nightgowns on before going to their room.
My shame and embarrassment had lessened.  I guess there's only so much
humiliation your mind can take.  After that, you just start shrugging if off.

That evening though, a new wrinkle seemed to be in play.  Sara was most
attentive to me.  Even went so far as to pour me an extra glass of wine with
dinner.  Was actually going to come and help me with the dishes until Joan
scowled at her and made some remark about 'that being maids work'.  I didn't
show it of course, but giggled inside at what seemed to be their growing
quarrel.  When Sara 'invited' me to attend the bedroom 'ceremonies', I was
actually delighted.  Was she using me to make Joan jealous?  When she
whispered to me in passing to make sure that I was 'extra' pretty that night,
my theory was reinforced.

After I'd cleared up the evening's untidiness - glasses, books, and so on.  I
went to my room and showered.  When I came out, I found a beautiful nightgown
and peignoir set lying across my bed.  On the floor beneath them were a pair
of high heeled evening slippers.  My breath actually caught in my throat 
because, right beside the gown and peignoir, I also discovered the most
beautiful bra and panty set.  This to me was the clincher.  Sara had often
said how nice it would be if, when I came to her, I had a pair of nice
'breasts' for her to fondle.  Here was the ultimate 'hint'.

The only thing that puzzled me - and just for an instant, was the fact that
everything was pure white - the satin and lace that made up all the
components of what were there - except for the shoes of course, but which
were also a dazzling shade to match.  It seemed a little odd - after all, I
was scarcely a virgin, but who could possibly fathom what Sara might be
thinking?

I could hardly contain my excitement, but while on my makeup, continually
reminded myself to stay calm, not to show that I suspected anything, to act
as if I was totally unaware of any undercurrent of troubles between the two
of them.  I was especially careful with applying my perfume - Sara had
commented the previous time that I was getting heavy handed in this area.

Before I left the safety of my room, I examined myself closely in the mirror. 
White satin gown giving seductive highlights to my hips and 'breasts' under
the filmy peignoir.  Heels on the slippers giving me a little more height,
emphasizing my slimness - and while I walked, allowing the long satin skirt
of the gown to 'whip' ever so slightly around my legs.

I sort of wished that I had a long cigarette holder to complete the picture -
because there was absolutely no doubt that I was anything but glamorous.
Soft waves in my blonde hair, framing a soft oval face.  Distinct lips (I
have nice lips) in a seductive shade of dull crimson, eyes framed in a soft
hue of pale blue eyeshadow, with curling lashes darkened just a touch by
mascara.  Cheeks pale, but made interesting by a distinct application of
blusher.  Just the slightest touch of a floral perfume surrounding me.

I took a deep breath to relax myself before knocking on their door.
"Pammie?  That you?  Come in dear."  Sara replied to my knock.
She was by herself in the bedroom - I could hear Joan in the bathroom -  her
response really pleased me.
"Wow!  How nice!  Joan!  Come and see how pretty Pamela is tonight!"  She
called, coming towards me, taking my arm, and swinging me around to see the
full view.  "Wow!"  She said again.
She had to be trying to make Joan jealous, I thought, enjoying the fact that
my peignoir was billowing seductively about me - and the possibility that
this 'fling' of theirs was starting to disintegrate.

When Joan did appear though, her smile of admiration (for what Sara had done
to me no doubt) didn't quite fit in with my theory.  I jettisoned the doubt
however - just acting I thought.

As usual, Sara led me to sit down on the end of the bed, and as was normal,
she sat beside me, an arm around my shoulder.  Then came the first surprise.
"Peter?"  She cooed.  "You do love me, don't you?"  Her hand slowly caressing
my shoulder, then sliding down my back.
I squirmed, delightedly at her touch.  Admittedly, I was thrown off by her
use of my 'old' name - but maybe it was a ploy to increase Joan's jealousy? 
I answered honestly anyway.  "Oh yes Sara"  I whispered shyly.
"Do you like the pretty gown I got you?"  She asked.  "You look really lovely
tonight.  It really suits you, don't you think?"
I nodded in a becomingly modest fashion.

"So now.  Don't you think that Joan would be really silly to even guess that
I ever think of you as a man any more?  After all.  Just now?  When I called
you Peter?  You had almost forgotten what it was liked to be called by a
man's name, hadn't you?  So if you're starting to forget that you used to be
a man, I mean I must be too, eh?"

She paused, collecting her thoughts, but then continued.  "And who bought you
this pretty nightwear.  Who bought you that nice skirt that you liked?  After
all, if I thought of you as a man, I wouldn't have bought these things for
you now.  Would I?  So, if you don't think of yourself as a man, and I make
you act and dress like a woman, there's no reason that I'd go back to
thinking of you as one, is there?

My brain was moving rapidly as she spoke.  Was this the issue?  Was she
trying to make Joan believe that she still thought of me as a man?  It seemed
nutty - but I had the feeling that, if I agreed with her too quickly, I might
be helping to settle their quarrel.  I wasn't too sure, but decided to
gamble.
"Well.  Sometimes?  You know?"  I said.
She looked astonished, but I had the feeling that I was doing just as she
wanted.  "You think that sometimes I think that you're a man?"  She asked,
incredulity leaking out of her every pore.
I shrugged.  This was getting good.  I hadn't looked at Joan's face yet, but
all of a sudden I sensed that an 'I told you so' expression was being
transmitted to my wife.

What was going on?  Sara was turning around to Joan.  "I'm sorry darling.  I
would never have believed it.  Pretty little Pamela here, still thinking that
I think she's a man?  Well.  I'd better dissuade her of that opinion,
wouldn't I?  Looks like your idea of the white gown and stuff was the way to
go after all."
She stood up, pulled me to my feet to stand beside her. Shook her head.
"Pamela?  Joan's going away on a business trip for the company.  Gonna be
gone about a month.  Was really concerned .."
As she was speaking, she'd led me to the dresser.  Went into one of the
drawers.  Pulled out this white 'gauzy' thing.  Was putting it over my head
and using some combs from the dresser to pin it in location.  Was pulling it
(the veil) down over the front of my face.. "About leaving me in the house
alone with you.  Thought I'd maybe fall back under your charm?"  She giggled 
"Your masculine charm?"  She giggled again, pulling what seemed to be a
couple of long white ribbons out of another drawer.

"Here"  she said, handing me one.  "Wrap this around the bedpost at the top
there.  Then run either end through the other loop."
What she'd handed me was a length of white lace ribbon about four feet long. 
It was bounded at both ends by loops each about six inches in diameter.
When I did as she instructed, the ribbon had been formed into a simple lasso
around the rightmost bedpost  with the length now lying diagonally across the
bed.  Following her instructions, I did the same on the left side.  We now
had two ribboned nooses lying diagonally across the bed.
"Now"  she said "Run back down the hall.  Get some extra pillows from the
hall closet.  Go on now Pamela. There's a girl!"
I'd no idea what was going on by this time, but, obediently did as she told
me.  When I came back with the pillows, she had pulled the pillows from their
bed and had stacked them across the bottom.
"Great!" She said, seeing what I'd brought.  "Lay these down over the top of
the ones I just laid down.  That's right!  Very good!"
She smiled sweetly at me.  "Now Pammie?  Lay down over these pillows.  Just
for a second or two O.K?"
With that, she took hold of my arm again and led me gently towards the bed
where the pillows were.   Then, just as gently, she  pulled me forward to lie
face down over the mound of pillows I'd just helped to create, my backside
sticking in the air.
"A little low?"  She asked Joan, then "Yes. I thought so too."  And another
pillow was adjusted underneath me.  "Mmmmmm"  she said contentedly.  "That
seems just about right.  You can get up now.  But oh!  before you do?  see if
you can stretch forward and get hold of the loops - No!  don't move forward. 
Just keep lying where you were.  Stre...ee..tch - there's a girl!  I knew you
could do it!"

I was getting very nervous. Something was way out of whack here.  I started
to raise myself up and away from the bed, but she was back, sitting beside
me, holding me again.
"You my girl, Pammie?"  She whispered.  "Pammie love Sara?"
"Yes."  I responded.  "But what..?"
"Shush, girl!"  She reprimanded me. "We're going to have a little ceremony,
just the three of us.  Going to convince Joan that she can leave the two of
us in perfect safety.  Going to convince her that you don't pose any kind of
masculine competition to her."
"A ceremony?"  I asked, bewildered. "What kind of ceremony.."

"You can't even guess?"  she giggled.  "You're in the next best thing to a
wedding gown - even wearing a veil?"
"But we are married already.  What...?  Why ...?"
"Well.  Technically, I suppose you're right.  This one will correct the
mistake we made the last time.  Tonight you're the bride.  After tonight,
you'll be the wife. Believe me.  From this moment on, no-one's going to
consider you as any kind of a man..."
"But.."
"Pammie?  Enough arguing now.  You and I are going to go and stand in front
of Joan.  We'll have our little ceremony now.  Just wait and see, you'll love
it.  C'mon now!"

Her tone of voice made it very clear that it would be decidedly unwise of me
to ask any more questions so, smiling happily (after a gentle hint) I
linked my arm in Sara's and joined her in front of Joan.
There, I made a new marital vow, relinquishing all rights as a husband and
taking on all of the duties and responsibilities as a wife, promising to be
submissive, docile, and to make myself as attractive as possible at all
times.  While all of this was going on, Sara's hand was roving all over my
back, from my shoulders to my buttocks - slowly stroking, poking, caressing -
her touch trough the materials of the nightdress and peignoir starting to
excite the hell out of me.  (When her turn came, her oath was a lot less
binding than mine. She simply accepted all the rights of a husband - but in
her relationship with me only).   Finally it was over. I did feel strange as
Sara lifted my veil and kissed me.  I started to tremble violently, to the
extent that my knees were literally knocking.
"What's the matter, darling?"  she cooed.  "You don't need to worry.  I'll be
a good husband to you."
"You're going to hurt me!"  I whimpered softly.  "You're going to tie me to
that bed and rape me!"
"Oh don't be such a baby!"  she said.  "I'm going to do no such thing!"
"But these ribbons.  They look like something to tie me with..."  I pulled at
the fabric of my nightwear.  "And these clothes, they're for bed, aren't
they?"
She shook her head as if hurt at my obstinacy. "Didn't you just promise, make
an oath that you'd obey me?"
"I guess so."
"Well then.  Why would I have to tie you up?  Surely all I have to do is ask.
No?"
My lips started to tremble.  I licked them nervously.  "Ask me what?"  I
managed to get out.
She grinned, put her arm through mine.  Started leading me back towards the
bed.  "Look Pammie.  Let me explain my thinking to you.  I'm sure you'll
agree that I'm being nothing but reasonable."  Pulled me down to sit beside
her at the foot of the bed.
"Let's get our relationships all straightened out.  OK?"
I just looked at her.  Didn't answer.  She obviously hadn't expected one as
she continued.  "You're my girl.  Right?"
I lowered my head in acceptance.
"Right?"  she pressed.  "Pamela is Sara's girl.  Right? Say it!"
"Yes.  I'm your girl"  I admitted.
"Now.   I'm your man.  True?"
"Yes."
"But I'm Joan's girl.  Isn't that right?"
I sighed.  All of my hopes had drained away.  I couldn't deny what she'd just
said.  "Yes." I admitted.  "I guess you are."

"OK.  Now look at it this way.  Instead of me being the big bad husband, I'm
just another girl needing a favor from you."
"What kind of favor?"  I replied.
"Help me convince my man, that both you and me know that you're just a girl. 
Nothing else."
"What do I have to do?"
She gave me a strong hug.  "I knew you'd help me out Pammie.  Now all you
have to do is lie over the pillows like you did before, then reach forward
and put your hands through the loops.."
"You do want to tie me up!"  I argued.
"I do not!  All you need do is to hang onto the ribbons.  You can pull your
hands out any time you want.  C'mon now.  Help Sara out, will you?  Please?"
And as she spoke, I was allowing myself to be turned around to lie over the
pillows, my veil now back down over my face again.
"There, there. That's a girl."  she soothed me.  "You'll see.  It won't be
bad at all.  And Sara will be so grateful.."
And I was reaching for the loops of fabric and putting my hands through them. 
Grabbing the ribbon as hard as I could.
"Now just lie there a minute Pammie.  Are you comfy enough?"
"Please Sara.  Do you have to do this to me?"  I said, starting to weep a
little.
"Trust me."  she answered then, speaking to Joan.  "Boy.  This is sure
awkward.  Am I putting it on right?
Joan never answered, but I heard her get up from her chair.  Then I heard
Sara.  "Oh!  That's how it goes.  Feels really funny."
Then she was standing right behind me, lifting the hems of my robe and
nightdress up to show my panties.  Gave my backside a light slap.  Giggled.
"Oooh Pammie!  What a cute little ass you've got.  All white and soft and
plump and quivery.  Oooh!  Let's get your nice white panties down, shall we? 
Don't want to get stuff on them, do we now?"

And she was putting something cold in my back passage, working her fingers in
and out.  Then she was finished.  She moved in closer to me.  I felt
something hard between us.  She took her hands and spread the cheeks. 
Something started to enter me.
"You know, Joan?  I could see where this might be fun.  You really get a
power rush from it, don't you?" 
And the thing in my backside got bigger.

                               THE END