Forced Femme Story: "When You Awake" by Deborah Ford

Here is another favorite story... It was written by the wonderfully talented Deborah Ford. You can read more of Deborah's writings at blog.thehoteltransform.com

-When you awake you will feel fully sat ease with yourself.-

Simon awoke and felt fully at ease with himself. He sat up on his bed feeling invigorated. He was calm, relaxed and at ease.

-You will place the CD in your knickers draw where you can find it again.-

Simon did not have a knickers drawer but his wife Julie did. He rummaged through her underwear and carefully placed the CD where he could easily find it again.

-Because you will want to listen to this CD as often as you can, at least twice a day.-

While he was doing so he found the white panties he would need. But he also needed a black very lacy bra. He found the items and decided that they were...

-Sexy in an obvious way.-

He laid them on the bed. He desperately needed to shower. To shower and shave. To shave and become...

-...baby smooth.-

But something was not right. This was not how it was supposed to be. Yet he felt inwardly calm, relaxed and at ease.

He stripped and climbed into the shower with a fresh blade in his razor. He washed every...

-...inch of your person, carefully and thoroughly.-

He then shaved himself. 'I should not be doing this,' he thought. Yet he knew that he needed to be...

-...baby smooth.-

Under the arms, his chest, arms, legs, the back of his neck. Even with in the cheeks of his bottom. He had to be careful. There should be no nicks. There were not. He felt oddly pleased with himself now that he had fulfilled that instruction. Of course shaving to create a perfect vee bikini line down below had him worried.

Simon could not work out why he was doing this.

He had to think.

Yet there was something in his mind about not thinking. About not questioning what he had to do.

Which was firstly to dry thoroughly. Then to use the most expensive perfume he could find. Julie would kill him if she knew he was squirting himself with this subtly sweet aroma. She paid a fortune for it.

The knickers needed to be white. Quite right, that is what schoolgirls wore. The bra had to be black and very lacy so that it showed through under the crisp white blouse. Yes that all made sense. The slutty schoolgirl look. White knickers but black bra, a truly slutty combination.

That was what he had always found sexy. That was what he wanted Julie to look like. So why was he easing the silky knickers up his own smooth legs and thighs and nestling them around his hips?

He needed to think.

He wanted Julie to dress as a slutty schoolgirl for some fun and games. He wanted to spank her bottom. As he hooked the bra on his chest and twisted the hooks around to his back just as he had watched Julie doing so many times, a realisation crept up in his mind.

This was all wrong. He wanted Julie to be pushing her arms through the elaborate finery of the bra straps. Where was she?

She was at work. That was right. She would be back about five o'clock.

He opened the box at the bottom of the wardrobe and immediately found what he was looking for. Two diaphanous white schoolgirl socks. He sat on the bed and pulled them on.

That was when he saw the reflection in the mirror. This should be Julie. She should be wearing the bra, panties and socks.

It was coming back to him as if in last nights dream. The CD he had placed on the bed was the key. He lifted up the note:

Julie thought you might like to hear this band. 

Thought of you when I bought it. 

Listen and see what you think, 

Simon.

He put the box on to the bed and took out the schoolgirl box pleated skirt and apron along with the white blouse. They needed to be ironed so that they were crisp and sharp. That was crucial to the appearance. So laid them on the bed ready for ironing and continued his preparation.

Now Simon felt relaxed again. If he followed the instructions he was wholly inwardly calm, relaxed and at ease. If he questioned them he felt anxious, even frightened.

He took out the auburn wig with the pigtails and tried it on. It needs to look natural and real. He carefully adjusted it until it seemed to be part of him.

Good, he thought, taking out the high strappy heels. Slutty schoolgirls must wear heels.

That was obvious. And he did so want Julie to be his slutty schoolgirl. He squeezed his sock clad feet into the tight straps of the shoes. Of course Julies feet were large for a woman but still smaller than his. He had to squash his feet into the strips of leather.

She should be putting her feet into these shoes.

A wave of panic. This was all wrong.

Think. Had to think. But thinking only bought forward the realisation that he was not fully dressed. Suddenly he felt sick. He was restless. He was full of despair. He was not fully dressed.

There was something else. Something essential.

He hated it when he was not fully dressed. He could not live unless he was fully dressed. There was something missing!

He scoured the box but all that was left were the receipts and school cane. He would not need the cane until his spouse returned home. Where was it? He was not fully dressed. This was disastrous. He must be fully dressed. He fell to his knees in the wardrobe and immediately saw it near his shoes. It must have fallen from the box as he lifted it. Relief. He lifted it up and planted it on his head

He stood in front of the wardrobe mirrors and checked the ensemble so far. The straw boater hat sat neatly on his head above the pigtailed wig. Phew. He was so relieved. He now felt calm, relaxed and at ease. He would make sure he never improperly attired again.

He twisted this way and that before the mirror feeling the pigtails brush around his neck and shoulders and the bra tickle his chest.

That seemed about right. Now to iron the blouse and box skirt. Nice clean sharp lines. He needed to go downstairs to the kitchen. But he must not close the curtains. He passed by the hallway window through which he could see the street. No one around to see him in his knickers and bra. Shame.

While the iron heated he leaned against the kitchen counter. He felt calm, relaxed and at ease. He had complied with the instructions and felt good about it.

The instructions.

Ah yes. He should know all about them because he had been so insistent about the details with Hermann Hermsich. What had Professor Hermsich said to him?

Oh yes: 'You fetishists are all the same.' His accent was German and weary. 'Always you are so precise about what you want your partner to do.'

The panic grabbed his stomach. 'What you want the partner to do.' Not what you want to do!

The iron was hot and Simon understood how careful he now had to be. Each line had to be crisp and even.

He started with the blouse. Ten minutes of careful ironing were required to make it neat and crisp. He set the clock on the cooker to make sure he fulfilled the instruction to the letter and set about the strict ironing detail.

When the ten minutes were up he put the blouse on feeling his smooth arms against the fresh cotton that had been deliciously warmed by the iron. He did up the buttons cautiously to ensure that the tightness and sheerness of the blouse displayed the bra. That way the lacy detail was obvious to anyone who looked - and it would be important to make people want to look. 'Very good,' he heard a voice in his head say to him. It was a German voice. Ah yes the professor. It was Herman.

This was wrong the Professor should be speaking to Julie!

But before he could do anything he had to complete his next directive. He put the box pleat skirt over the ironing board and set the cooker clock.

He ironed the pleats for a full thirty minutes watching the minutes count down on the cooker clock. Thirty minutes exactly. Thirty minutes of ironing every single pleat umpteen times. Now he felt a current of satisfaction. He was pleased with himself. So calm, relaxed and at ease. Not anxious, worried and apprehensive.

He stepped into the skirt and pulled it up, tucking in the blouse before putting his arms through the straps so that the apron part came to his breast line.

The bra should be obvious to all who see you. After all if you wish to be a slutty schoolgirl you must ensure the bra is seen when dressed.

He did up the buttons on the waistband in the small of his back. He had to be very dexterous. They were so small. Julie had long artistic fingers. She would have no trouble in doing them up. He put away the iron and the ironing board. No evidence of the change over should exist.

He retuned to his bedroom to check that the bra could be seen as required.

It could! He was so thrilled. He danced about before the full-length mirror as he now had to behave like a little girl. He had to be very emotional. Very happy.

He put his forefinger to his pouting lips and swung his shoulders back fore making the skirt flip around the tops of his thighs. Wonderful. The image was right.

"Goodee!" he cooed to the mirror. "Goodee!"

Next was the black and red striped tie. This was to be hung loosely around his neck ensuring that it hid nothing of the bra.

The CD Walkman sat on the pillow, the headphone leads trailing on to the floor.

That's useful he thought. I must listen to the CD time after time after time. As often as possible. At least once a day. Now seemed like a good time to listen to it again. It was so nice listening to it. Somehow it was satisfying.

He found the disc in Julie's knicker drawer, exactly where he had carefully placed it only an hour before.

Wait.

Wait.

This is all wrong.

This is for Julie.

He had paid five grand for this CD to be recorded by Hermann Hermsich. The price included a twenty minute induction and a twenty minute indoctrination. There was a second generic 'deprogramming CD' for when he tired of his adventures, that was handed out to everyone who wanted such a recording. As he desperately did not want Julie to know about that deprogramming CD he kept it locked in his office drawer at work. That drawer might as well have been a million miles away.

"How do I know she will listen to it? She may just turn it off and then I've wasted all my bloody money!"

He recalled how the Professor had rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. "Once the patient starts to listen she will be hooked. How do you think I do it on stage?"

"Ah yes."

Shit! That was it. He had created the CD for Julie but listened to it himself.

His stomach turned over. Oh God. No!

But he knew that he should not worry. Every time he felt bad about what was happening he was to look at himself in the mirror and then he would feel wave after wave of happiness roll through his very being.

So time to check how he looked.

The schoolgirl waved at him from within the mirror. Then she put her hands behind her back, pouted and swung her shoulders too and fro.

Now he felt good again. Calm, relaxed and at ease.

He giggled, making his shoulders rise and his neck disappear in swift bobbing motion. It gave him the appearance of a shy young girl.

That made him giggle again.

He needed some finishing touches.

Pink lipstick and eye make up was required. He sat at Julie's dressing table and applied them meticulously.

Good. Every time he saw the slutty schoolgirl winking at him in the mirror he felt joyous.

"Goodee, goodee!" he squealed leaping to his feet like a child. He saw the skirt billow up around his hips in the full-length mirror. "Goodee."

This was sure to make his spouse pleased with him. That was essential. His spouse needed to be happy with what ever he did. Make his spouse happy. That was his one aim in life.

Fortunately he knew that the image in the mirror would do just that.

But would it?

Julie had never shown any interest in him dressing as a schoolgirl. In fact she showed very little interest in him at all. That was why he was doing this.

Oh my God. The panic. The CD. The Walkman.

That was it. He had set it up. He remembered doing that. He had put the box of items in the wardrobe ready for Julie to find. The box he had already plundered for himself.

He had then checked the volume level in the earphones. He had played the CD. He heard the Germanic words, easing and beckoning.

He had turned it up a bit louder. He could remember doing that. He did not want Julie to miss anything. Then it was too high really. A little too loud for comfort. Professor Hermsich had said, "You will now want to hear the next few words. This is important. Just make yourself comfortable. You cannot stop listening until you hear my next words."

And he could not stop listening.

This could not be happening.

That was what had happened. He had stupidly listened to the CD!

He needed to get the outfit off. He felt humiliated and stupid.

He reached around to the buttons at the rear of the skirt. But for some reason his fingers refused to take hold of anything of the garment.

"...you cannot remove them until given the command by your spouse of 'say goodbye to the slutty schoolgirl'. No matter what you think and what you do you must remain clad as instructed."

Surely if he concentrated really hard he could get them off. He closed his eyes straining his muscles but his damned hands belonged to someone else. They would not do what he wanted.

If he could not get the box-pleated skirt off surely he could get the shoes from his feet. Sitting on the bed he reached down to the straps. Once again the fingers could not bring themselves to touch the thin band of leather encircling his ankles.

He flopped back on the bed and groaned. What did he look like? He rolled over on to his side to look into the full- length mirrors on the wardrobes.

One look in the mirror told him that it was happening and it had happened.

He was dressed as the slutty schoolgirl and he was thrilled to have done so. It made him feel sexy, calm, relaxed and at ease.

Sure enough his erection grew. He desperately needed to come. Of course he could not. Only his spouse could release his sexual energy. He understood that. That was why it was so important to turn her on. To turn Julie on.

To turn him on. That had been the plan!

It was a good thing that he was admiring himself in the mirror with little twirls and dips to show himself off. Otherwise he would have panicked. Maybe even been sick. But these were background emotions. Way back. Forgotten feelings. After all he was pleased. Thrilled. Delighted. He was calm, relaxed and at ease. All ready to entertain his spouse and have his own sexual energy released.

Time to listen to that wonderful CD again.

He crawled across the bed and bounced into position like a child. He put the earphones on. He was so thrilled to be acting the part of the slutty schoolgirl for his spouse. His spouse would be delighted with him and that was all that mattered.

He pushed the earphones in and pressed play.

"Hello. I am a hypnotist and you will listen to what I have to say. You will need to listen to what I say in order to understand and you do want to understand do you not?"

Simon closed his eyes smiled and thought, "Yes of course I want to understand. Everyone does."

"You will now want to hear the next few words. This is important. Just make yourself comfortable. You cannot stop listening until you hear my next words."

He wriggled on the bed feeling his bared smooth thighs rub together.

"You want to be happy. To be happy you must make your spouse happy. You must listen to each word I say and I will tell you how to achieve this."

Simon heard himself say 'thank you', just as he had said the first time he had heard those beguiling words.

        2.

Simon fidgeted before the make up mirror dabbing the freckles on with a red felt pen. He studied the result in the mirror, wrinkled his nose and giggled. He must do everything like an adult version of a sexy schoolgirl. Giggling was good and made him feel calm, relaxed and at ease.

He stood up feeling the pleated skirt gently scratch at the back of his thighs.

As he turned away form the mirror a dark thought swirled through his mind: 'Oh this should not be me.'

He had to think. He must avoid seeing himself. He had to think clearly. Rationally. There were ways out of this mess.

There was a deprogramming CD. It had been included with the indoctrination CD. But that was right the way across the city, in his office on the top floor.

Secondly his 'spouse' could release him. It was part of the programming that he was to be in control of when and where Julie became a schoolgirl. He had hoped that just the threat of forcing her to dress up by saying the magic words "you are a slutty schoolgirl" would encourage her to dress of her own volition. He groaned at the thought of having to explain to Julie about his devious scheme for her and how it had backed fired leaving him at her mercy. Oh God there had to be something better than that.

Thirdly he could contact Professor Hermann Hermsich. Oh that would be wonderful wouldn't it? He would have to admit to being so stupid that he fell into his own trap.

All right then Simon, he whispered to himself, you have built a company from the ground up. In ten years you have gone from just yourself to a staff of almost forty. You have drive and you are resourceful. Think it through.

But a logical reply hit him like a baseball bat. The same driven, resourceful man had set the trap. He had planned it so painstakingly. Every detail of his wife's entrapment had been calculated. Every escape route plotted and sealed off. How could she even leave him dressed like this?

How he had laughed when he thought of her dashing from the house attired as a slutty schoolgirl and only able to respond to people and situations as an adult fantasy.

Now here he miserably sat on the edge of his bed. He had dug the trap and then jumped into it.

The least bad of the options was to ring Professor Hermann Hermsich on his mobile. Maybe he could release him over the phone.

He walked downstairs to the hallway and lifted up the phone. Oh there was his reflection in the mirror. He giggled and stuck his tongue out at it like a little girl. That made him giggle even more. He placed his hand s on his hips and said, "So what are you going to do? Spank me? You wouldn't dare. You are not strong enough." Then he giggled behind cupped hands at his cheekiness.

Fortunately he had closed his eyes which span his world back to the real one where he was Simon trapped in the schoolgirl fantasy.

He punched out the Professor's mobile number and turned away from the mirror.

Please answer. Please answer. He heard the ringing sound and held his breath. It rang on and on. Please answer.

"Hello?"

An impatient man, a man in a hurry.

"Oh Professor Hermann Hermsich, it's me Simon Hill. You gave me the CD induction to turn my wife into a schoolgirl?"

"Yes, yes." He was impatient.

Simon tried to laugh but it came out as a giggle, which made him twitter even more.

"Get on with it. I have a plane to catch."

Simon concentrated as hard as he could. "Well I have been a silly, silly, billy." Simon humphed the way he thought a young girl might at her own stupidity. "Well, I listened to the indoctrination and well..."

"You silly bastard."

Simon tittered. "I have been a silly little girl haven't I? Oh dear. Will I get spanked? I bet you are not man enough..."

Professor Hermann Hermsich cut in. "Just put the deprogramming CD in to your player and listen to that. Now if you'll excuse me..."

"Oh no. I have been really, really silly," he squealed. "Silly little girl needs to be put her in place." He shook his head, "I mean." Simon swallowed, he must concentrate. "No. I left the other CD at work I cannot get it. You must do it over the phone."

"It cannot be done over the phone!"

"Oh aren't I so dim-witted? I bet you are going to tell me off."

"Mr Hill get a grip. Simply wait for your wife to return and tell her what the release key is. Good bye."

"No wait," he tittered. "I know you must think I am really a muddle headed, foolish girl but I can't do that." Simon squeezed his eyes tightly shut and gritted his teeth: "You - must - come - here and - de programme me."

"Impossible. My flight takes off in five minutes for my tour of South America."

"Can't you do it over the phone?"

"Of course not! Get someone to bring the CD to your home. I don't know. Think for yourself."

"But I can't," he tittered, "I am only a likkle girl."

"Goodbye Mr Hills. The problem is yours. You made it. You solve it. I am going to set my phone to ignore your calls. There is the last call for my flight. Good-bye. Oh and don't forget to make sure your black bra is showing." Professor Hermann Hermsich had a deep grunt of a laugh. "That is what you were demanding of your poor wife."

The line went dead.

Simon slumped to the floor. His skirt rolled up leaving him sitting on the prickly hallway carpet in his knicker clad arse.

Ensnared. Caught. Held.

He would have to wait for Julie. He would have to explain it all to her and then throw himself at her mercy. He would have to beg for release. He felt queasy. Julie was a gorgeous woman but he knew how tough she could be when crossed. He did not make her head of sales simply because she was his wife. She was good at her job. Ruthless in fact.

How different she had been before they married. So coy, so submissive. She would do anything. Even his schoolgirl fantasy was played out. Once they were married, and she had forty nine per cent of his company, she changed. Obviously it was down to the pressures of work. She stayed late at the office. She became curt and short tempered at home. She would not iron his shirts and they soon she avoided all of the housework. He had to employ a maid three times a week.

His plan had been to change all that. Put her in her place once and for all.

Suddenly an idea. He could dress over the outfit.

Thrilled with the notion he dashed upstairs. Even before Simon's hands refused to take the trousers off the hanger he knew he would not be able to do it.

-...slutty schoolgirls have thighs exposed at all times. Slutty schoolgirls have the black bra visible at all times. The straps must be evident from the rear and the cups from the front.-

He slid the wardrobe door shut in anger and catching sight of own his ridiculous reflection.

He cooed and simpered before the mirror, twirling around to make the skirt parachute out and expose his white knickers.

This made him feel calm, relaxed and at ease.

So he performed his little dance a few more times.

"This is sooo much fun!"

A half an hour of dancing later he was pacing the upstairs landing. There had to be a way. His feet were killing him. Even when he sat down the calves complained where the arched shoe was constantly stretched them. It must be different for women he mused. Their legs must be different in some way.

He must keep his reason. Planning is the answer to every problem. The trouble was that every time an idea formed, a silly schoolgirl took over the thinking and it all fell away amongst a lot of giggling and posing.

He had to look on the positive side. Obviously the straightforward idea of getting Professor Hermann Hermsich to help him was now out of the window. Hermsich was already on board his plane flying to South America.

So being positive he could say that one, and only one, option was ruled out.

That left him with explaining everything to Julie or going to get the CD from his offices.

He stopped pacing and felt the dark fiery panic rolling through him.

Explain to Julie, his tough wife? Or Walk around in broad daylight and then through his offices dressed like this!

"I am on my way to a fancy dress party," he would explain to goggle eyed staff.

"So why isn't your wife dressed up?"

Julie would appear and laugh at him. She would say that she does not know of any party. She would be in her element humiliating him in front of the rest of the staff. That had become her favourite hobby.

The phone rang.

Don't answer.

Hang on. It could be Professor Hermann Hermsich. He has taken pity on you. He has thought of words that would undo the damage.

He raced downstairs and seized the phone.

'Hello this is Simon' were the words his brain sent to his mouth. What he actually gushed was: "Oh hello! It's me. Oh silly me, you don't know who me is."

"Simon?"

"I can be given what ever name you wish," he giggled. Inwardly he groaned. He found he could not replace the receiver. A voice told him that slutty schoolgirls were always...

-...well behaved in front of adults and had to wait to be dismissed.-

"Who is that?" It was Julie. She sounded as irritable as ever.

"It's your spouse!" He was allowed to say that. Nothing in the conditioning ruled against that admission.

"Well stop being silly and..."

"Ooooh I am so silly aren't I. I wish someone would teach me a lesson..."

"Pay attention and stop acting the fool!"

"Yes miss!"

"I will be late tonight. I am taking David out to thank him for his efforts with the French contract. I might be late. In fact I will be late. Don't bother waiting up for me."

An idea. "Oh please Miss Julie I have a CD in my top drawer in my office. Can you get it out? You could drop it off for me on your way to the restaurant. No need to stay."

"I haven't time. I am very busy here. I thought you would be coming in today anyway."

"No, I got caught up in something here," he giggled at the cleverness of his reply. "The key to the drawer is in the cupboard by the door and the CD is labelled 'deprogramming'. I need it for the home computer here..."

"I haven't time to run errands. Get someone else to do it. What the fuck do you think I am?"

The words bitch and slut floated into his mind and then disappeared. "Oooo now you are angry with me," Simon pouted, "oh pleash don't be crosh with little me. You frighten me."

"Simon you and I are heading for an almighty row if you keep up this stupid game. See you tomorrow morning - if you are lucky!"

The line went dead.

Dark curtains of despair rolled around him cutting out the light. The despondency continued to wind until they tightened up to his flesh, suffocating him.

If only he was allowed to cry without permission. But that would mar the makeup and the freckles.

That left just one final plan. He would have to venture outside, drive across the city and enter his building. If Julie was not coming home until later he could wait until dark. Hopefully fewer people would see him then.

        3.

He had plenty of time to listen to the CD again and check his appearance in the mirror. That always made him feel good. So calm, so relaxed, so at ease.

The straw boater had slipped to the right and looked less schoolgirlish than plonked on top of the head, so he re arranged it.

Now what did he have to do? He had some plan. Julie was not going to be back until later so he could not please her. It must be something else. Ha yes. He giggled at his foolishness. How could he have forgotten? He needed to go to his company and get the deprogramming CD from his room.

He would take the CD Walkman and then play the track in his own office. Then he would be free from this curse.

It was six o'clock. Time to make a move.

He opened the wardrobe and checked through his suits. He decided on a dark one. He would put it in a bag then once he had been deprogrammed he could change back.

Light was at the end of the tunnel. One minor problem. His hands would not let him collect his clothes.

It was a 'catch twenty two' situation. His mind knew that he was intending to use the clothes as a means to escape, therefore they would not allow him to get them.

Change of clothes or no change of clothes hardly mattered. What was important was to get this deprogramming disc in order to remove these directions from his mind.

He checked his appearance in the mirror. He did look sexy. The heels, the white socks, the pink thighs, the pleated skirt the apron just revealing enough of the bra straps. The pig tails, the straw boater and if he twirled quickly enough people could see that he was so much of a slut that his knickers did not match his bra. White panties, black bra.

It was so funny. He put his hands over his mouth and giggled.

Downstairs he made a despairing attempt to put on his long raincoat. His fingers treated the coat as if it were radioactive. He tried using his one hand to hold his other wrist. All to no avail. He knew that he should not cover himself up. The thighs must always be exposed. The bra straps always visible. Everyone had to know what a schoolgirl slut he was.

He closed his eyes and tried a psychological trick. It is cold outside. It might rain. You must wear a coat. You need a coat. He quickly reached for it but then realised that he must keep his thighs exposed and the bra on display. What did a slutty schoolgirl want with a garment that would cover up her assets?

"Shit!"

He picked up the car and house keys from the table near the door and opened it carefully.

It was cold!

He stood out on the porch checking that no one was around. The chill of the night tickled his legs making him shiver.

"Brrr..."

His car was at the bottom of the drive. He closed the door behind him. No one around.

He ran for the car.

Or tried to.

He tripped on his heels. In a swirl of skirt, knickers and a flash of thigh he rolled onto his lawn. He sat in his knickers on the cold damp grass.

"Yuck! Oh phewey! Silly little me," he squeaked aloud. "I am such a silly, little girl."

Got to get control. Got to get a grip. There was the car. He still had the keys in his hand.

A front door slammed shut nearby. Footsteps.

He raced down to his car bleeping it to unlock it.

He hauled open the door, leaped inside behind the wheel and slammed the door shut. He sat there with the interior light on illuminating him as if he were on stage in a dark theatre. Mrs Hughman walked by with her dog. She gazed at the slutty schoolgirl in her boater and pigtails sat inside Simon Hall's car.

Simon thought about sliding beneath the seat but instead found himself doing a silly girly wave where all the fingers were fluttered at the old woman.

He turned the key in the ignition and drove away.

'Oh God Oh God,' he thought to himself.

        4.

The drive was excruciating. His feet were not part of his body. The heels made them float above the pedals. The engine would roar. He would brake harshly.

Yet all the time he giggled away to himself.

The suburban roads were not too much of a problem. He rarely stopped but soon he was on the busy major artery into the city.

At the first traffic lights he turned on the radio changing it from his classical station to a pop music one. As soon as the rhythm started he turned up the volume to feel the bass. It was easier to dance in the car when the bass notes were shaking you through the seat.

People turned to gawp at the noise and the activity inside the vehicle. He would wave back with his silly finger flicking style. It felt really good being the centre of attention. Particularly when a lorry pulled up next to him and a man sitting in the passenger seat looked down on him. He crossed and uncrossed his legs making the man lick his lips.

Oh this was sooo much fun! The lights changed, the lorry trundled off and when Simon heard the horns beep impatiently he gasped and put his hands over his mouth. "Silly, silly me!"

He started off but the car stalled making him bounce in the car.

This was hilarious. Everyone was looking at him. He saw an old lady shaking her head at Simon's antics, so Simon wound down the window and poked his tongue out at her.

Then in a scream of tyres and a great deal of giggling he tore away.

He parked in the small car park at the rear. He had the key to the fire escape door and there were no security cameras in the fire stair well. He would be able to reach unseen his office corridor on the top floor totally.

It was past seven o'clock. When he climbed out into the cold night air he made an effort to pull the skirt down further over his chilly thighs. But the skirt was attached to the schoolgirl apron whose straps ran over his shoulders and down his back. It could not go lower.

He held the CD Walkman tightly against his chest. He must not lose that.

He rubbed his shoulders through his shirt. It was so cold when you are dressed in such a flimsy shirt.

The rear fire escape door was behind the rubbish skip.

He unlocked the door and it squealed open on its old hinges into the darkened stairwell.

He entered. Normally the stairwell was the coolest place in the building but now it helped defrost him.

He warmed his hands by rubbing them together and then clip clopped in his heels up the stone steps.

His heart was thumping like a cannon. It even shook his chest. He knew that at any moment someone who was working late could appear on the stairwell. Having worked late they would be taking a short cut to the car park rather than going past security.

He knew that Julie sometimes called in the cleaners after an evening sales meeting. But usually he could hear the sound of vacuum cleaners however there were no sounds other than the traffic outside.

Finally there were the two security guards. Thankfully they were both incompetent. He kept them on as a cheap deterrent. But one of them could still appear at one of the doors into the corridors. He closed his eyes, to scared to even think of his excuse if he was discovered.

He reached the forth floor and suddenly realised that he had been holding his breath. He let out a long sigh.

He turned the handle of the door listening to the loud cracks of springs engaging to release the lock. Surely everyone in the city could hear it.

He peered into the dimly lit corridor. It was deserted. If the lights were off then everyone had definitely gone home.

Into the corridor, careful in his heels as he picked his way towards his office.

He took out the keys damping the jingling with his fingers to stop them rattling and unlocked his door.

Nearly there.

Inside. Keep the lights out. In the drawer was the deprogramming CD and freedom.

He took the key from out of the cupboard and unlocked the drawer.

He settled into this huge leather chair. It was nearly all over. The nightmare was at an end. He felt the supple leather on his bared thighs an experience wholly knew to him. Thankfully not one he would have to experience again.

He went to pull open the drawer and the door crashed open.

Blood drained from Simon's head. He felt sure he was about to faint. But instead he desperately wanted to give the man a good look of him in his uniform.

He leaped to his feet and did a twirl spinning the skirt into the air. Then he did a curtsey and said: "Oh hello George what do you think?"

George's jaw was hanging open. He had been doing security for almost twelve years but had never seen the sight that now danced before him.

A sexy woman on her way to a fancy dress part dressed up as a naughty schoolgirl.

He licked up the dribble he felt on his lips. Was this real?

Christ she was speaking again.

The schoolgirl stood knees together, hands behind her back shaking her shoulders too and fro, "Don't you like me Mister George?"

Simon was anxious. He had to please the security guard in someway. He would do anything for him. He had to make the guard happy so that he could feel calm, relaxed and ease.

George licked his lips. "What, er, I mean, how did you... what are you doing in Mister Hall's office?"

Simon did a neat dismissive gesture with his wrist. "Oh you don't need to worry about that. He knows I am here. He sent me."

"He sent you?"

Simon's two brains were running in tandem. In the one half the schoolgirl loved being caught by a uniformed man in the other half he was desperately trying to extricate himself from this situation.

"Why yes. He wanted me to get a CD he left in his drawer."

"A CD?" George eyed her suspiciously. "Mister Hall hates music."

Oh God. He heard himself giggling. "True." The dream schoolgirl put her finger to her mouth and went doe eyed. "I suppose now you are going to spank me?"

George's eyes widened. He had to lick his wet lips again. "S... s... s... sp... spank you?"

"Why yes. I have being telling you horrible, naughty lies."

"Oh yes."

Simon put his hands onto his hips, "I suppose you are not man enough to punish anyone."

George swallowed. Spanking a lovely looking girl attired like this was the stuff of fantasy. He stepped back into the corridor and looked both ways. Ernie would still be downstairs with the security monitors.

Simon pinched his own thigh to get back his manly clear sighted thoughts. "On the other hand why not check in the drawer and then you can see the CD for yourself."

The security guard frowned. Shit. She had not been serious. He tried a false laugh to disguise the fact that she had being teasing him.

He edged around to the desk eyeing her continuously from head to foot.

Simon loved the attention. It made him feel calm, relaxed and at ease. All the anxiety vanished when he was being admired.

George pulled open the drawer and finally wrested his eyes from her. He rummaged through its contents.

"No CD here love."

What! Simon stepped forward and frantically tore through the drawer. There was no CD. Had he imagined it? Was it part of the indoctrination? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

George slowly closed the drawer, "So maybe I should spank you after all." He studied the girl's eyes charily, had she been joking about the spanking. He felt his dick engorge.

The schoolgirl thought about it for a moment, pouted and exclaimed: "Fair enough!"

Simon skipped around to the front of the desk. It would be best if he bent over that, then George could pull up his skirt and spank him properly. IT would be easier for George that way. If he remained standing then George would have to hold up the skirt.

He bent over, bending a little at the knees in order to make sure his tummy lay flat and his bottom stuck up.

"Well I don't know," George scratched at his day old beard.

Simon raised himself with his elbows on the table to support him. "Humph. If you are not man enough! Perhaps you have a colleague who could do it?"

"Er well, if you put it like that."

George licked his lips and stood behind the errant schoolgirl. This could not be happening. He lifted up the pleated skirt slowly until he saw the tight white knickers. He was waiting for to scream 'assault, 'rape' 'get off me'. Instead she lay flat on the table with her pink smooth thighs available to him.

He had an immediate erection.

Suddenly the schoolgirl leapt to her feet. "Don't you dare!"

Simon was struggling to keep control. "Mister Hall asked me to get a CD. If its not here then I will check the other drawers. Don't you dare touch me again!"

George stood back his hands held up. "Oh I won't. I am so sorry. I got the wrong idea. I thought..."

Simon pulled out each drawer in turn. George was embarrassed and defensive. Simon was determined to keep him like that while he rummaged through his drawers. "If you touch me again I'll call the police. They'll know what to do in a situation like this. I bet they'll be man enough to deal with a little girl like me. Not like a wimp like you."

The CD was not in any of the drawers. Either it had been part of the indoctrination or else someone had taken it. Oh Jesus. But who!

He kept admonishing the guard. That way he kept him at a distance whilst he thought of a way forward.

"Huh. To think a sissy faggot wimp like you could not control a little girl like me. Wait until I tell Mister Hall."

Maybe he had put the CD in his briefcase. But no he distinctly remembered putting it in the drawer here.

"He will sack you. Get a real man for the job. Not a sissy who cannot even control a little girl like me."

Suddenly the floor and ceiling changed positions.

George had grabbed his arm so tightly and so quickly that he did not know what was happening.

He grunted as he was thrown down over the security guards lap.

As he took hold of her wrists and plucked up her skirt George shouted "Little slut! I'll show you who is boss."

"Thank you," Simon giggled, "I try my best."

It was soooo nice when he was called that. He felt so calm, relaxed and at ease. 'A little slut'. Yes he was, or at least tried hard to be.

This time the guard paid little attention to the sexy shape in the knickers. He was livid. His manhood had been called into question.

He spanked her as hard as he possibly could, "Don't! You! Ever! Call! Me! Names! Like! That! Again!" he ensured that each word was emphasised with a truly vicious swat to her buttocks.

"You slut!"

Simon grunted with each humiliating beating. "Thank you George. You are so right."

He could not believe how painful the spanking was. Never in his life had he felt pain like this.

Then the ceiling and floor span around again. He had been rolled from the guard's lap onto the carpeted floor. He looked up at his tormentor with tears of happiness. "Oh thank you so much. I really deserved that. Thank you for being so firm with me."

Even through the blurring tears Simon could see the affect the beating had on George. A stiff bulge at the front of his pants. He knew that he could make George even happier. He crawled towards him. "Perhaps I can thank you in some way?"

George sat with his legs apart still in shock from what he had just done. Now here she was offering him a blowjob in gratitude.

He felt his zip sliding down. He closed his eyes and leaned back. His dick popped out of his trousers. Two hands held it. He groaned.

"Where the hell have you been and what have you been doing!"

George leaped to attention knocking the girl over. "Sorry Ernie. I... I..."

Ernie's eyes were fixed on George's ram rod erection that pointed whichever way he turned.

The senior security guard took off his cap and shook his head. He watched George turn his back on him and wrestle with difficulty until the prick was put home and zipped away.

And then the schoolgirl leaped up from behind the desk. "Coo-eee!"

Simon loved the effect he had on these men. They were so turned on.

"What the fucking hell is... George!"

George shook his head. "I don't know sir. I saw the light go one downstairs showing the firedoor at the rear had opened. I checked through the floors and heard a noise here. I found her going through Mister Hall's drawers."

Ernie put his hands on his hips. "So you thought you'd get yourself a blowjob?"

The schoolgirl danced across to him and patted his chest with her two hands. "Oh don't be a silly billy. He spanked me first."

Ernie tried to say 'what' but the words would not form.

Simon bit his tongue to prevent himself asking for another beating. "Look it's all a big mistake. If you'll just let me go..."

He made to walk passed Ernie but the old security guard grabbed his arm. "Just as soon as you tell me how you got in here."

"She's got keys," George said holding up the car and office key ring Simon had left on the desk. "They are for mister Hall's car!"

"Oh no George," Simon wagged his finger at him, "now you cannot spank me for that one surely?"

Simon felt an urge to drape himself across his desk again.

"You really did spank her?"

"She was asking for it. I mean begging for it."

"Is this true Miss?"

"Well I did ask nicely but he was not really man enough. I mean a real man like you would have shown him how to do it. So I sort of insisted. I bet he can spank harder than you."

"Don't be so sure of it Miss." Ernie did not like the idea of his younger colleague being able to do anything better than him.

Simon gripped his fists tightly together and closed his eyes. Concentrate. Got to get of here.

"Mister Hall lent me his car." He checked to see if Ernie was falling for this one. "We were going to a fancy dress party."

Ernie thought that one over.

Simon could see that he was getting somewhere. "And he asked me to pick up the CD. But it isn't there. So if you'll tell me off as quickly as you can I will be on my way."

Simon held his breath and watched Ernie mull all this over.

"So where is Mister Hall?"

"I am not sure. In the car park downstairs waiting for me."

George looked out of the window. "His car is down there sir."

Ernie nodded. "You go down and check on her story. Make sure Mister Hall knows that she has got his keys."

Ernie backed out of the room not wanting to take his eyes off the sexy vision.

When they were alone Ernie walked around her ogling every feature as if she were a dog on display at a show.

"Did he really spank you?"

"Only little ones. I don't think he was very good to be honest," Simon giggled. He heard Ernie catching his breath.

"Maybe you'd like a real man to sort you out?"

Simon found himself jumping up and down, his skirt flapping. "Oh would you. Would you?" He then hugged and kissed the old guard.

        5.

George returned to see that his colleague was looking very pleased with himself. The girl was sobbing near the desk rubbing her bottom. Shit the bastard had spanked her and beaten her harder than him. He had even made her sob.

"Well?" Ernie asked.

"Yeh, well. Maybe you can spank harder. But her arse was still sore from my beating!"

"No you idiot! What did Mister Hall say?"

"Oh him. He wasn't there. Its definitely his car though."

Simon edged towards the door. "There you are then boys. He must be around somewhere. If I could have my keys, I mean Mister Hall's keys, I'll go down and find him."

Ernie picked up the keys and juggled them from hand to hand. "Well I don't know. You could have stolen the keys and then stolen his car. Maybe you were sniffing around here for something else to steal."

Simon threw his hands up to his mouth and squealed, "Oh golly. Does that mean another punishment?"

"It might mean the police young lady. Games are over."

The police! Must get a grip! "When Mister Hall finds out he will sack you both." After he had been through with them Simon would make sure neither of the pervs would get a job anywhere on this planet.

Ernie picked up the phone and dialled a number. "I'll call him on his mobile."

Simons mobile was in his briefcase, in his bedroom. But the call would buy him some time to think.

He must be rational. These men are doing their jobs. He must satisfy them with the truth. He must satisfy them. Satisfy them both. Make them happy. Satisfy their longings and lust. Make them pleased with him. That way he could feel calm, relaxed and at ease.

"Oh hello? Oh Hi. Mrs Hall sorry to bother you..."

Simon's brow furrowed. Julie! In his bedroom. Now. Wasn't she supposed to be out with David?

"...it's security, main building. We are in Mister Hall's office...yes mam I know it is late. Yes mam and I do apologise. Yes mam I am sure you were involved in something you didn't want to be dragged away from. Yes, please listen! No Mrs Hall I didn't mean to raise my voice. I am very sorry. Yes mam but we have a situation. We need to speak to your husband."

Julie at home. Simon ran through options.

"Isn't he? Well what it is," he chuckled humourlessly, "difficult to put in to words. We have a young lady in Mister Hall's Office. No mam he is not here, she appears to be alone. But his car is in the car park. Well no I don't know what they were doing. You see the point is that she is dressed as," he cleared his throat and chuckled again, "well, a naughty schoolgirl. You know, a naughty schoolgirl. Gymslip, socks, pig tails those dinky little straw hats," he licked his lips, "white socks, pink thighs... yes I am sure you get the picture. Yes I'll tell him when I see him Mrs Hall."

He put the phone down and shook his head with a wry grin. "Well it seems to me that your boyfriend might be in a bit of trouble with his wife." Ernie glanced over to George, "Seems our boss has a penchant for girls dressed like this."

The two men laughed.

Oh God! From bad to worse.

Ernie picked up the keys and tossed them over to the schoolgirl who caught them with a rather masculine catch.

"It seems, George, that she has long suspected Mister Hall of having an affair with a slut who would dress up as a schoolgirl. Now she has the proof." He turned to Simon: "you must tell Mister Hall that he is no longer welcome in his home and that a divorce will start immediately."

Simon clutched the keys. He was free. "Thank you. I will tell him. And thank you both so much for taking me in hand like that. We must do it again."

Minutes later Simon was driving home shifting uneasily on his sore bottom. Now would come the hardest part of all. Explaining to Julie and then begging for her to release him.

It would not be an easy evening.

On the other hand there were a bunch of drunken men outside a nightclub to wave at, and it was so amusing to sit in the car dancing to the raucous pop music.

The end

You have read this article bimbo / Forced Femme Stories / humiliation with the title Forced Femme Story: "When You Awake" by Deborah Ford. You can bookmark this page URL http://blackpoetrypmrapedtwice.blogspot.com/2010/12/forced-femme-story-you-awake-by-deborah.html. Thanks!