“It’s not a uniform,” pronounced her visitor. “It’s his dress code for the workplace, and the women will find him very acceptable. I know that like your stepson. Especially if he hates being teased and provoked. He’ll get plenty of that.”
Frances Gender shrank as small as he could in front of his two superiors. Should he stand up for himself? Should he refuse to go to work in Missus Stones’ dressmaking firm? He mustered all the courage he could to make a determined objection.
“Stand up straight, Gender!” boomed his stepmother. She had spoken to him in this fog-horn voice from the moment his father had absconded – with his secretary – leaving his son behind to face the music.
“Hold the edges of your dress out as wide as you can,” ordered the visitor, sitting up as if there was an iron bar strapped to the length of her spine. “Now do the curtsey again, the way you’ve been shown.”
“Put your back foot further back!” cried Melissa.
“Bow lower!” commanded his new boss. “We want to see the ribbon at the back of your hair.”
Frances’ determination to fight melted away with his obedient bow of the head, to show his superiors his ribbon. He couldn’t very well complain anyway with this huge ball in his mouth. He felt the tears springing into his eyes.
“Up!” came the command. “You will start tomorrow morning. This will be your Monday dress. Your dresses for the rest of the week are hanging in your pink closet in the office, opposite the pink frilly chair where you will sit for all eyes to feast themselves on you whenever any of the girls want a good s********. They love seeing men being deprived of their sex under their very eyes.”
Her words had a horrifying effect on Frances. He was doing his best to hide the stiffness in his poor cock, but the thought of so many women seeing him, and LAUGHING! It brought an extra surge of pleasure into his panties. He was going to come, he knew it. And as Melissa and Camilla Stones taunted him with how girly he looked, he felt his cock starting to throb in his gusset, until it reached the very height of its pleasure and he spent his frilly manhood into the front of his dress petticoat.
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