Stephen woke with the sound of his alarm at 7am, and to find a message from Victoria, sent during the night, telling him to open the envelope in his top drawer. The jiffy bag contained a note, which he read while emptying the contents on his bed.
Stephen,
Please find a present from me to you. I hope you like them as they are yours now. You are to wear them to work today, and you must send me pictures which show you wearing them when I ask for proof. You are to come to our house at 5pm. We are having an earlier tea because Auntie is out at a party working.
Victoria.
Stephen unfurled the garment on his bed. The silky black polka-dot thong with white lacy trim and a pink bow on the top were obviously female, and he groaned at what he held. They were soft, but cross-dressing was not in his list of fetishes or fantasies. It had never interested him.
He showered and brought the soft material to his hips. He pressed his cock against the silky fabric and the gentle caress of his manhood brought an erection, stretching the front of his new underwear. The thin strip pressed between his arse crack and moved as he settled the waistband in a comfortable position. He took a selfie, cropping his face from the picture, and sent it to Victoria as "proof" before getting dressed and catching a bus to work.
He felt the roughness of his trousers on his buttocks and the wispy sensuality of the thong on his cock. He panicked that if he was in an accident, the hospital would see his unsuitable underwear choice, but he reasoned that hundreds of people turn up in Accident and Emergency every year with weird objects stuck in a bodily orifice so the doctors had probably seen worse than a pair of polka-dot panties around the waist of a teenage geek.
Victoria demanded three photographs during the day, and each time he snuck into the disabled toilet and used the full-length mirror to show the underwear around his waist.
She sent a smiley emoji in return. But the constant feel of the female panties around his groin, the reminders from Victoria meant the realisation that he was cross-dressing at work never strayed from the centre of his attention.
Every time he moved in his seat, he readjusted his shirt to make sure that no-one could see the lacy trim of his panties. He had never been so paranoid about anyone seeing his underwear.
On the way to Victoria's home, he stopped at the supermarket and bought two big bouquets of flowers and a four-pack of the fruit cider that the female dominatrix favoured.
Anne-Marie greeted him warmly at the door and welcomed him into her house. "This bouquet is for you. Thanks for looking after me and running me home. Appreciated."
"Oh, you shouldn't have," the buxom lady exclaimed. "Oh, they are lovely. And I spoke to Dave, who owns the bike store. He's picked up your bike today, and he's coming next Friday with it done. Easily repaired. The driver will pay costs."
"Thanks," Stephen cried.
"I need you to write down all the costs you have incurred too. So that's the clothing he damaged, the public transport tickets, all that. OK?"
"OK."
"He's paying for that as well," she said with a grin.
"Thanks."
"No problem." Anne-Marie shouted up the stairs. "Victoria, your guest is here. And I thought we'd eat outside as it's a beautiful day."
"Sure," the teenager replied as she bounded down the stairs, in a sullen tone, and rolled her eyes when Stephen presented her with a bunch of flowers. "Why?"
"Last night. I was still shaking an hour later. That was incredible. It's a thank you, for the most fantastic out-of-this-world experience. And being an amazing... person."
She lowered her voice. "Listen, you dumb ass. I am blackmailing you for my fun. You don't get your torturer flowers, you stupid twat."
"You aren't torturing me. I trust you."
"Then you are more stupid than you look. I'm doing this to make you squirm and for my enjoyment. Not yours."
"I got you some cider as well."
"You will pay for this. Tonight." She warned as she snatched the flowers and the alcohol, and stormed into the kitchen. Anne-Marie had prepared a chicken salad with tapas and set the table outside with a buffet of food.
Victoria added fruit juice and frozen berries to a blender to make two litres of deep magenta smoothie, that she decanted into a jug and took outside.
The evening was warm and pleasant; Anne-Marie was talkative, and she spoke sociably to Stephen. The surprise of her niece arranging for him to come for tea had not shown, who sulked as she ate and drank the dark red drink.
At the end of the meal, Anne-Marie rose from the table. "I need to get ready, can you two clear up, please?" Victoria nodded and reached for Stephen's empty plate. She caught his half-full cup of smoothie and spilt it over his pale shirt and trousers.
"Oh, I am sorry!"
"Victoria," Anne-Marie exclaimed. "That'll stain."
"I know. OK, get them off now. I'll put them in the wash." Her eyes met Stephen's who slowly shook his head.
"I'll wash them when I get home."
"Oh, don't be so silly," she cried. "I've seen you in your underwear, don't be a prude. I can wash them and stick them in the tumble-dryer. It'll be done in three hours."
Anne-Marie sighed. "She is right, I'm afraid. That'll stain if you don't."
Victoria walked around to Stephen and yanked at his trousers, causing the garment to fall to his ankles and expose his polka-dot thong. She sniggered, and Anne-Marie glared at her. "Sorry, a little unexpected. But, hey, while we are waiting, that's something we can explore. Upstairs, in your cupboard."
"Victoria, a word," Anne-Marie sniped.
"Oh, Auntie. He knows. And before you get judgemental and shout at me, those flowers are because I spanked him. We are eighteen, we're allowed to experiment with sex and BDSM. Me, especially. And he is allowed to like it. If he wants to explore his feminine-side, then I will happily help him tonight. Especially as he has to stay here while he washes his clothes. I feel so guilty."
Anne-Marie shook her head. "I am sure you have set something up here. We will discuss this another time. You better not be offering dominatrix services to your classmates. As for tonight, safe, sane, consensual. Understand?"
Victoria sighed. "Yes! Honestly, it's like living in a nunnery." She glanced at her watch. "You better hurry or you'll be late, won't you? We'll clear up."
Victoria smiled at Stephen as Anne-Marie scurried from the garden. "Payback, tonight. Get those clothes off and get them in the wash. Then you are going to clear up, get me a drink, and we are going to the dungeon. I have plans."
Stephen gulped and removed his shirt and trousers under Victoria's withering gaze. She instructed him to leave the polka-dot thong on, and she sat back in the chair as the embarrassed teenager cleared the table of dirty dishes, and stacked them in the dishwasher. He wiped the worktops clean and then poured a can of Victoria's fruit cider into a glass tankard.
She scoffed when he passed her the drink. "Why isn't this in a can?" She asked and pointed to his clothes. "Get those in the wash."
He returned a few minutes later, and when he sat down next to her, she snorted. "On the grass. While I finish my drink."
Anne-Marie interrupted their conversation when she left the house, and Victoria drained her cider. She escorted Stephen to the playspace in the old master bedroom.
He had a sharp intake of breath as he looked around the kinky room. Victoria opened the cabinet in the bathroom and placed an electric razor and electric clippers on the sink. "What are they for?"
Victoria didn't answer. She plugged the clippers into the wall socket and gestured for him to approach her, which he did gingerly. "I need you to be hairless," she told him as the clippers touched his back. "You aren't that hairy anyway, and I will not mess about with waxing or cream. This is a quick way of doing that."
