Chapter 1: Lillian Trapp and her feeble son-in-law, Pussyboot Chapter 2: Lillian Prepares Pussyboot For His Visit To the Society Tea-Room Percival's ears and nose suffered extremes of pressure inside his mother-in-law's boot, especially since her second boot of the pair was tightly fastened round his helpless head. He became disorientated and lost all sense of time, imagining he had spent all day fastened inside her expensive leather footwear. He found that he could breathe, and could hear a strange rushing version of the sounds that happened around him as he stayed obediently on his knees where he had been put. Eventually he felt his wife's busy fingers undoing the ribbon over his booted mouth, and the buttons over his cheek and hair. With a surge of perfume, his face found itself once more in Lillian's bed-sitting room. "Wake up, Pussyboot," cried his mother-in-law, sitting in her armchair again. "I want you dressed to amuse me while I watch your response to a little piece of news I have for you." She had changed her costume since he had been booted. Instead of her blouse she had decided to wear her lavender silk day dress with its grand pointed collar trimmed with lace, full bishop sleeves and a pleated skirt, which she had filled with petticoats. Percival weakened at the sight of her. It would have made a shocking disclosure, but his mother-in-law in her exotic apparel for senior ladies was more attractive to him than her 35-year-old daughter to whom he was married. Beneath the pleated hem of her dress he glimpsed a pair of dark blue leather boots, the polished leather gleaming and flashing and drawing out of him his deepest desire to fall on them with kisses and abject licks of adoration. Her hands were clad in one of her pairs of gauntlets, which flared over the cuffs and wide sleeves of her dress. She had touched up her make-up deliciously, with eye-shadow to match her dress, a deepening of colour in her cheeks and an extra shiny coating of gloss on her crimson lips. As he looked at her scowl, surmounted by her exquisite coiffure, he started to whimper with sexual inadequacy. "I think it only right, my dear," she said to Sapphire beside her, "that you should dress the fool in my clothes on this occasion. Put him into the flamingo silk-satin blouse. Let's have the creature looking really effeminate." She opened her packet of cigarillos and withdrew one of them in her polished fingers of navy blue kid. Her son-in-law knelt mesmerised as he watched her. She appeared to take no notice of him... but fitting her cigar into the socket of her black bakelite, dinner length holder was done as much for his benefit as for hers. She casually glanced at the gusset of his panties as she took her lighter, and smiled with satisfaction as she pulled on her mouthpiece to produce a red glow and a first cloud of grey-brown smoke. Sapphire was ready to dress her wilting husband, who was left in the clasp of Lillian's long-line bra and firm suspender belt which pulled firmly on her fully fashioned stockings. "Yes," she said, smirking with contempt, "this is just about right for a snivelling boudoir slave like you." She held up the blouse on its hanger and arranging its full, pouffy sleeves at its sides, with vertical fine pleating from neck to hem on either side of the silk covered buttons. She undid those buttons that were fastened and opened the blouse to slide it from the hanger. "Do you like to hear the sizzle of Mummy's big blouse, Percival? Look at the lovely ruffle to fit under your chin, sweetums... and pretty ruffles here and here at your wrists, with four lovely buttons on each cuff." "Yes, it's just right for you, Pussyboot," said Lillian; "a silky pink blouse for a silky effeminate sissy. Now, look at your Mother-In-Law and the big collar of my dress as your dear wife is dressing you in my blouse." She primped the large lavender points so that the collar stood vertically up the back of her hair and dangled half open beside her fully blushed cheeks. "It's a good job your brassiere is well padded out, sweetykins," she said, as her daughter fastened his blouse down the bodice between ruffles of scalloped lace; "otherwise my blouse would flop around you like a tent. Mmmm, I like that, Sapphire. Comb his hair for him; I want him looking extremely feminine in my blouse." Her words had the inevitable effect on her feeble son-in-law. His cheeks went crimson, his chin sank in shame into the frill of her blouse and his penis ached with unquenched desire, pushing its helmeted knob through the gap at the front hem of her blouse. Lillian drew on her cigar and breathed over him as she spoke. "Now, sissyboy, listen carefully. Your pathetic little life is about to change." She let this message sink in for as long as it took her to take another casual drag on her cigar and breathe it over her sissy pet. She lifted her chins, so that her hair-do pulled her dress collar backward, drawing the wings closer to her cheeks. "Your wonderful wife has no further use for you. She has her own life to live, and is moving to her new home. All my love and warm wishes go with her for a wonderful and fulfilling life in which she will treat her men as they deserve." Percival Pennyweight felt his heart weighing lower in his body as Lillian's lips curled with power and derision. "You," she said, "will stay here. She has kindly given you to me." A dozen thoughts filled her son-in-law's head as his lips trembled and his fingers stretched in fans of feeble surrender. He knew it was shameful of him... he knew he would be justly derided for entertaining such a thought... but the idea that filled the forefront of his mind was that he was glad. He scarcely dared to hope it, but this might mean that Lillian was intending to enslave him to her precious, wonderful closets and chests of drawers... to her pantyhose, her panties and her rigid foundations. To her gowns, her petticoats and her blouses, and... perhaps most of all... to her heavenly boots and gloves. A cloud of sweet smelling cigar smoke enveloped him as he tried to comprehend this dramatic blow, and Lillian's voice penetrated his reverie. "I am going to make you my Society pussy-boy," she said, her eyes lidding with self-congratulation. "Starting today, I shall dress you suitably for your presentation, and take you along to the members-only tea room. Congratulations, Pussyboot... you will be privileged to be mocked and humiliated by the members of the Haute Couture Society of Important Matrons." The trembling of her sissy's lips redoubled at this prospect. Being the boudoir dress and foundation boy for Lillian was one thing: being exposed and flaunted in what she chose to dress him in was another... especially if she intended to show off her power and control over him by dressing him for the ridicule of other women. He was brought down to earth by a heavy smack across the back of his head. "I might have known it," snapped Sapphire, smacking him almost head first into her mother's lap. "You're not fazed in the slightest about me leaving. Oh no. All you're concerned about is my mother's precious panties and nylons, and drooling over her blouses." She delivered another heavy slap as Percival hung his head in silent guilt. "I... I love you, my darling Sapph..." SLAPP! He got no further. Lillian burst out laughing and filled her lungs with her next inhalation. "Oh I think you love this more than you love Sapphire," she cried, collecting one of her long line bras from her chair-side table and holding it by the shoulder straps so that the huge, wired cups and reinforced panels dangled in front of her lavender bosom. "You want me to wear this for you, don't you, my pathetic little puppy?" Before he could think, the wretched Percival blurted his desire. "Oh yes, yes please, Mother-In-Law!" Immediately he wished he had kept his self control. His wife beside him gasped in horror. Her mother in front of him spluttered with amusement and laughed. Poor Percival wilted with shame as Sapphire berated him. "You pig! You sexless, weedling little sissy! Before I go I'm going to give you one last thrashing from useless wife to valueless sissy," and she snatched up her mother's riding crop to set about him. "Here," cried Lillian, "put him in the brassiere he loves. Put it on him over my blouse, and he can be punished while wearing it." Sapphire was seething. "I'll do better than that," she said, snatching the large, reinforced garment. "Put your arms down and hold your beloved pretty panties," she roared. "You're going to be brassiered tightly so that my mother's friends can have a good laugh at you." She pulled the bra over his shoulders with his bloused arms inside, gathered it behind him and hooked him as tightly as the hooks and eyes would allow. Once her whimpering husband had been hooked down to his waist in white elasteine, she brought over an armful of panties to fill out its outsized cups completely. "Since he wants to have monster sized breasts like yourself, mother, that's what he will have," she said, her lips set with fury. The pretty lace cups that spread rather loosely over his already large bust were filled out further and further in front of him until the lace and elastic cuffs of several pairs of panties overflowed at his enormous bosom. "Oh I do like him like that," chuckled Lillian, exhaling a cloud of smoke over her son-in-law. "While you're whipping his backside, as he deserves, he can show his deepest love and devotion for my dress. Stand here, you little wimp," and she indicated where he should stand beside her chair. "Now, you will hump my silk sleeve while your wife is punishing your sexless indifference towards her... and you will tell me how blissful your dress-loving feelings are. Start now!" "Y-Yes, M-Mother-In-Law," he said, adjusting his high heels so that he was close enough to gain purchase as he thrust upwards against her arm with his aching penis. Sapphire was whisking the crop through the air to loosen her arm, then slapping its leather loop onto the palm of her hand to gauge its effectiveness. He would be beaten anyway, but if he failed to amuse Lillian, his impending punishment was likely to be increased. "And be careful, PussyBoot," she warned. "One drop of sexless moisture on my dress and I'll strip you naked in the tea-room and flog you in front of a very appreciative audience." Oh no! That was just about impossible, to avoid getting any juice at all on such a sexually exciting woman's delicious silk dress. And what was worse... her warning added more desire. She had forbidden him to juice on her sleeve, which made her sleeve that much more exciting. His whole body seemed to thrill with stiffening desire as his mother-in-law reached for his solid member, held it by its helmet, and planted it on the lavender silk of her sleeve. "Ohhhh, Mummy-In-Law, your... your dress is more beautiful than I could hope for... so elegant... so silky... so... adorable." As he spoke his thoughts, the biting end of the crop touched his buttocks and rested there as Sapphire planted her feet and provided herself with a good reach. "I've been looking forward to this moment, Percival my boy," she said, "since long before you said: 'I will'.... The day I would walk out of your life and leave you in the very capable, well manicured hands of my mother. Take that!" she cried as the crop stung his pouting flesh... "and that!... and that! And that! And that!" Her relish was obvious to her squeaking husband, whose admiration for her mother's dress faltered as he gritted his teeth to receive each cutting lash. His eyes danced between the beautiful silk above the knob of his penis and the expression of maternal amusement in Lillian's eyes as she watched his face for every wince of pain and every quiver of sissyish pleasure. "Stop, darling," she said when her daughter was in full flow. "I want my little pussy boy to bond even more delightfully with his darling, loving mumsy-in-law. I want him to make love to me while I am wearing my fur... my Hudson mink cape, darling. Be an angel and slip it round my shoulders for little PussyBoot to feel and fondle with his weak and sexless little cocquelette." A wail of emotion escaped her son-in-law as he watched the honeyed fur cape approaching. He loved to be near Lillian in her blouses and dresses, and even more so when she was sporting her high-rise boots... but when she wore one of her minks he almost lost consciousness in her presence. "That's it, my little darling, watch your dear wife slipping my mink around my shoulders for you," and she curled her lips in a smile of power. "Sapphire, honey... your pathetic little husband likes to see his Mumsy-In-Law with her dress collar turned up... inside the collar of her mink. Isn't that right, PussyBoot? Hmmmmm? Yes, I thought so, sissy boy. Now you may feed the naked helmet of your little cocquelette deep into my mink, honey... that's right... oh, that's a good sissy... pushing and moaning and moaning and pushing. Beat him, Sapphire. He has to learn how naughty he is for being such a weed of a non-male. I want him to love me and to suffer at the same time." She was right about the ordeal of her son-in-law, for Percival Pennyweight was on fire in his buttocks and in blissful heaven in his cock as he looked with love and unmitigated devotion into the green eyes of his magnificent Mother-In-Law. He was holding every nerve and sinew of his body as taut as he could to prevent the flood of sissy cream that was building and bursting to escape... to pour in gushes of pleasure into Lillian's beautiful and expensive Hudson mink... but his efforts were never going to be enough. The pain of his beating, the mockery of his wife, the calm smile of assurance on his mother-in-law's face as she smoked and watched and blew her wreaths of smoke into his face, meant that the soft depth of fur, mingled with one final puff of smoke was all it took to bring a rising tide into his helpless penis... wanting Lillian... showing her his desire... bursting in a fountain of jism from his naughty helmet, deep into Lillian's honeyed pelts, across the wide silk collar of her dress and onto her cheek, chin, nose and lips in a torrent of uncontrollable sissy tribute. Sapphire stopped her flogging; Lillian detached her cigar from its holder in her gloved fingers and stubbed it out, her face twisted into curls of fury and retribution, while Percival Pennyweight finished his flagrant perversion with a few more squirts of cream into the sodden fur beneath his throbbing penis. There was silence in the bed-sitting-room. Even he felt it would be fiercely unwise to murmur the slightest whimper of fear. It was Lillian who spoke first, using her already defiled fur jacket to wipe the strings of cum from her livid face. Her voice was low and very calm... the sort of voice her son-in-law knew was covering the deepest reserves of bile and anger and contempt of which she was capable. He would pay for his sexual deviation, and his agonies were very likely to make his beating at Sapphire's hands a small side-show prior to the real event. "We shall prepare for out little outing to the tea-room, PussyBoot," she said, so quietly that he had to listen hard. "We shall get changed... we shall look very well dressed indeed, do you understand? And we shall see what my dear lady friends think I should do, to punish you suitably for your disobedience." "Y-Y-Yes, M-Mother-In-Law." "And if I were you, you priceless clown, I'd learn obedience fast," said Sapphire. "Good-bye, sissy boy. I am quite sure mother will treat you the way you deserve in your new life." ***
In the next episode of The Society of Matrons, Muriel Vandersilk plays dress up with her feeble grandson Giles. |