The Excursion -- Part I

He knew she wanted to go shopping. She so enjoyed taking him shopping! And embarrassing him. The whole shopping experience made her hot and bothered, he knew...he could see the spark in her eyes and the smell of her arousal as they flitted from store to store, trying a lipstick here, looking at panties there, engaging the salesladies in conversation filled with double-entendres, and thrilling at their willingness to participate in his humiliation.

Of course, he enjoyed it, too. It was naughty, wasn't it, what she did to him. How she used him as her playtoy, how she forced him into public situations with strangers, inviting them to join in his little secret. She owned him, totally, and he knew it. He was there to amuse her as she pleased, and these shopping trips were indeed amusing. His preparations for these little excursions were never strictly prescribed, although he knew there were certain things Mistress Angela insisted that he do. His objective today, as always, was to prepare himself properly with the appropriate accoutrements to please her.

Sometimes he did this on his own, as when he carefully shaved his genitals and donned the flowery satin panties this morning before dressing for work. Sometimes, Mistress Angela would add a little something, as she did later that day in a phone call to him at work. "There's a Victoria's Secret near your office, isn't there?" she whispered, her voice almost husky with arousal as she planned his fate. "Go there and purchase a pair of panties for me. And I want you to buy a bra and a pair of stockings for yourself. Then go to the men's room and put them on for me." The mere thought of carrying-out this assignment brought the predictable physical reaction from him, and he tried to adjust himself nonchalantly in his trousers. His mind raced as he calculated the steps necessary to obey, not the least of which was going to be the trick of undressing sufficiently in a public washroom to put-on women's lingerie. But there was more. "And if they have perfume samples....and I know they do," she giggled a little through her whisper, "I want you to apply some to your genitals. Put some on the head. And put some on the shaft. And dab a little underneath. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Mistress," was his simple response. All of a sudden, the difficulty of obedience was raised to a whole new level. Although unseen in the washroom, he could definitely be smelled. The thought of it all made re-adjustment once again necessary.

"Oh, and one more thing..." she continued. "I want you to get things started before you come over. Yes, with Jennifer." He knew what that meant. It meant going to the Walgreen's drugstore down the street and embarrassing himself with his purchases. Jennifer knew Mistress Angela and often assisted her with such things. She could be ruthless when she wanted to be. Mistress Angela's final instructions: "Impress me."

The trip to Victoria's Secret went as well as could be expected, but the store was horribly crowded at lunchtime, filled with women taking advantage of the sale they had going on. He went a little overboard on the panties, purchasing four pair for his darling Mistress. Purchasing the bra and nylons was a bit dicey...he was certain everyone there knew who they were for, but of course, they didn't, really. He ran into Dawn, one of his employees, as he left the store. He could feel the heat rising in his face as he mumbled something about a gift for his girlfriend. Dawn wanted to see what he purchased, but he brushed her off politely. Close call. Too close.

Surprisingly, his time in the men's washroom wasn't that bad. He used the handicapped stall because it had more room, timing his actions carefully to miss the traffic that goes with the post-lunchtime crowd. His final task, applying the perfume sample, proved to be more difficult than he expected. But he complied with Mistress' orders quickly and rushed out without even washing his hands.

He decided to take the rest of the afternoon off to revel in what he had done, and what he was about to be subjected to. Seeing Jennifer at the
drugstore would require a little courage on his part. After all, it's one thing to be taken shopping by a beautiful woman, another thing entirely to shop for feminine things by himself, apparently of his own free will.

The drugstore was practically empty when he arrived. Jennifer was standing at her post by the cash register. She glanced up as she heard him enter, and he could have sworn he saw her smirk when she recognized him. She was a gorgeous creature, much too beautiful to work as a cashier, he thought. She couldn't be a day over 19, which might explain it. Her long blonde hair hung loosely around her face, but was styled nicely, and he could see her long, tapered nails, painted bright red, as she did some sort of paperwork. He had to decide quickly what he was going to purchase -- his appointment with Mistress was in 30 minutes. "Impress me," Mistress had told him. He wondered if the bra showed through his white shirt as he browsed the appropriate aisles. He could feel his trousers getting rather restrictive as he passed through the cosmetics section and on to feminine hygiene. Someone had been trying-on perfume, earlier, and he hoped it would mask his own feminine aroma. His purchases chosen, he made his way nervously to the check-out counter.

Jennifer was helping another customer, but she glanced at him and winked. He attempted a weak smile in acknowledgment, and noticed in dismay that there were several people lining-up behind him to check-out. He tried to mask the purchases he carried in the basket as best he could. The customer in front of him was taking so long! He could feel himself beginning to blush (and harden once again), and he just wanted the ordeal to be over. Finally, the customer's transaction completed, it was his turn. "Well, hi there!" Jennifer said in greeting, genuinely glad to see him. "Picking-up a few necessities, are we?" She wasn't going to make this easy, he knew. The heat rushed to his face, full force, as he handed her the basket with his "things." Jennifer was eager, too eager, to engage in conversation as she rang them up. "Oooh," she exclaimed in mock interest, "you have quite a bit of reading to do today, don't you?" She glanced at him with a smirk and pulled the items from the basket. "Let's see...we have Cosmopolitan, and we have Allure, and Glamour and....what's this? Seventeen! Tsk! Aren't you a little old for this?"

With that, the teenage girls behind him broke into full-fledged laughter. He was at a loss as to what to do. Jennifer just looked at him, askance,
and continued. "Well, I just don't know about this! Let's see what else you have." She pulled the remaining items. "Hmmm. That time of the month, is it?" was her comment on the tampons. This was just too much. She'd never done anything like this to him before. But the tent forming in his trousers revealed his true feelings for the situation. Jennifer looked at the latex gloves he was buying. "I'm not even going to ask you what these are for," she said. She then removed the final item. A lipstick by Revlon. It was there, all by itself, no packaging. Jennifer couldn't resist...she was simply enjoying herself too much. She removed the top and twisted the tube to examine the color. "Oh, I don't think this is your shade, do you?"

The girls behind him renewed their laughter as he tried to explain. "It's for my girlfriend, Jennifer, you know that."

"Yeah, right," was her only response. "An afternoon of wearing makeup and reading Cosmopolitan. Sounds like fun!" She winked at the girls as she rang-up the total. He paid her quickly, leaving her the $10 in change as he rushed out of the store.

He felt his heart racing as he drove to Mistress Angela's. What an experience he'd just been through! He checked his trousers for staining, and was happy to see there was none. Quickly he made his way to Mistress', stopping by a florist on the way to pick-up a dozen roses. He scampered up the steps to her house and rang the doorbell. Only two minutes to spare, but at least he wasn't late. Mistress Angela checked the peephole and then opened the door. "Hi, honey!" she exclaimed. "Come on in!" He entered the foyer, presented the flowers, and immediately went to his knees, as was expected of him. "Oh, they're beautiful!" she said, genuinely pleased to see her little present. "Thank you!" Just then, he heard the click, click, click of heels on the tile floor. He looked-up to see Mistress Christy. "Oh," Mistress Angela explained, "Christy's going shopping with us today. And she's going to help prep you for the afternoon." He looked at Mistress Christy and noticed something on her hands. Gloves. Latex gloves. And she was carrying a tube of lubricant.

"Hello, slave," Mistress Christy greeted him. "Why are you still dressed?" He mumbled an apology and began removing his clothes, doing his best to catch glimpses of Christy without being too obvious about it. She'd recently cut her long, blonde hair, and it made her look ten years younger and ten times more beautiful, if that was possible. She was already dressed to the nines, or rather, undressed, wearing a delightfully lacy brassiere that barely contained her, matching panties and garter belt, silky smooth nylons and heels. She looked both gorgeous and menacing, standing close to six feet tall, holding the tube in hands covered in latex.

"Well, what do we have here," Mistress Christy said, stifling a giggle as she spied his feminine undergarments. "Such pretty panties you're wearing, slave! Are they yours?" He replied in the affirmative, shivering as she reached over and raked her nails across the front. He responded instantly, moaning as he poked over the waistband. "Mmmm," she purred, "well, the panties may be yours, but what's inside belongs to me, doesn't it? Yes, I think it does, indeed. And you know what else? I think you need to be bound. Yes, you do. With a stocking."

"You heard Christy, slave," Mistress Angela chimed-in. "Pull those darling panties off and spread your legs. He did as he was told, trembling slightly at the thought of what was to come. He had grown to rather large proportions, leaving stains on the panties and making them slightly more difficult to remove. Christy was quite adept at binding his genitals, making them her little prisoner, emphasizing her ownership of these most private parts. He was glad he took the time to shave this morning -- Christy always commented on his shaving and it made him happy that it pleased her so. She sat in a chair in front of him and began the process of binding when Mistress Angela interrupted her. "I'm not sure he's hard enough, Christy" Mistress Angela commented, although in truth he was harder than he'd ever remembered.

Christy looked up at her from her position directly in front of the bobbing monster, a look on her face that screamed "you must be kidding!"

Angela continued, "No, I don't think he is, at all. But look what I found in his shopping bag." She held the Revlon lipstick in her hand, the top off, the Hot Pinque color revealed. "This little slave gets rather hot and bothered over lipstick, don't you, slave? Yes, I think you do." She was taunting him, taking advantage of his most deeply held fetish. She moved closer to him, grasping his chin with her slender hand, turning his face to the side as she brought the tube closer and closer to his mouth. "Think about it, Christy," Angela continued, her stare never leaving his eyes, "most guys dream of getting in a girl's panties. But this one is nothing but a little sissy. He dreams of getting in a girl's purse so he can try-on her lipstick. He wears her bra, and her panties, and her nylons, and her lipstick. Isn't that true, slave?"

He wanted to respond, but Angela began rubbing the lipstick across his mouth, preventing him from speaking. Back-and-forth the color went, coating his lips fully, completely, the aroma and taste that is so unique to a woman's lipstick saturating his senses. Christy had renewed her ministrations down below, and he was genuinely afraid that her manipulations would end the session prematurely. She had taken the ends of the stocking, one in each hand, using his member to bisect the center of the nylon. Pulling down on each end, she circled his entire genitalia with the stocking and twisted the stocking underneath -- not tying a knot, just going hand-over-hand so he was trapped. She then pulled the stocking up and over, tying a simple overhand knot at the base of his very swollen member. There was still plenty of stocking left, so she brought the two ends down, crossing them just underneath his penis and back under his testicles, separating them from each other and up around again, tying the whole package into a neat little bow on top. It was a good thing she was wearing gloves, because he was dripping profusely, his fluid practically coating her hands.

Mistress Angela didn't stop applying the lip color until Christy was finished. He moaned. A deep, heartfelt, lustful moan. He was trapped between these two gorgeous creatures, their slave, their property, their playtoy. And they were going to do him. Mistress Angela led him, pantyless and bobbing, over to the stool. "Bend over, slave, Christy is going to prep you for shopping." He knelt down over the stool, completely exposed and helpless. "I know you bought some tampons," Angela continued, "but we have something much better for you today. Something you won't forget. Something that will...well, something that will "occupy" you for the duration. She smiled that mischievous smile of hers and giggled. Pulling a chair over to the stool, she sat down in front of him, placing her foot in front of his mouth. "Give me little lipstick kisses, slave, while Christy probes you." He reached out and placed a tender kiss on her nylon-clad toes, leaving his mark. She'd placed a little perfume there, and her aroma was intoxicating. He showered her with kisses, heartfelt, emotional, genuine kisses, the kisses of a lover, an admirer. When all was said and done, he was her property -- no one else's. He truly belonged to her. And he affirmed his devotion to her as no one else could.

Mistress Christy was seated directly behind him. He felt her fingers, slick with jelly, barely touch his puckered hole. It sent shivers up his spine, but he continued kissing Angela's foot, doing his best to retain his concentration. Christy toyed with him a moment, barely pushing her finger inside, then withdrawing it. Push. Withdraw. Push. Withdraw. He found himself trying to push back, almost involuntarily, like a slut begging to be done. Christy and Angela both laughed when they saw this!

"Ooh, does the little slut want to be fucked?" Christy asked in a mocking tone. She could be so filthy at times like this...the process seemed to arouse her as much as it did him. She brought her fingers -- all of them -- up against him, dancing all around his hole, teasing and taunting, occasionally letting one slip inside. He was totally "wet" now, and very eager. He humped the stool as best he could, the binding in no way interfering with his zeal.

Angela grabbed his hair and lifted his face close to hers. She whispered to him, a sensual, taunting whisper, her lips only inches from his. "Answer her, my sweet. Beg her. Beg her to do you properly." He begged. Did he ever beg! He wanted it, desperately, and it showed in his voice. Christy obliged him, just once. Just once, she slowly, ever so slowly, entered him, pushing herself into him, forcing him into the stool, bringing a groan from him that he, himself, barely recognized. With her other hand, Christy grasped his bound member, pulling on it as she violated him. And, just as slowly, she withdrew, poising her finger at his opening, lingering there, causing him to shudder. But he didn't mess, and that was important.

Christy was an artist, an expert. She disengaged, her face flushed, obviously very aroused at what she had just done to him. "I think he's ready for the device, Angela," she said, huskily. "Look at him panting!" And panting, he was. But the ladies were anxious to go shopping. And there was only one thing remaining to be done before they left. Christy retrieved the plug, covered with a condom, and placed it firmly against his opening. The plug wasn't that large, but it flared nicely at the base, ensuring retention. She pushed it in him, slowly. Again, he was forced into the stool, trying in vain to avoid the monster that was to occupy him for the next hour. It was no use. Quite simply, he had no choice in the matter, and Christy was relentless. In it went, all the way, eliciting another groan from him. Angela held his face in her hands as Christy did her dirty work, kissing him on the cheek, leaving a mark of her own. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that he would not be allowed to remove that kiss before they left. In would remain, a visible sign of his submission, for the entire afternoon.