I had even, on instructions from mymistresses, rouged my nipples. A delicate ankle chain tinkled merrily asI minced about, forcing me to take small st...ps with my feet closetogether. Another chain, slightly longer, held my elbows loosely behindme, so that I could use only one hand at a time as I served tea and cakesto Angela and Dorothy.I pretended not to hear the question, even as I tried to ignore the hoteyes of the two beautiful women devouring my shamefully exposed breastsand buttocks, and. At themoment that world consisted of a quiet candle lit table tucked away in thecorner of a small Italian restaurant. Her husband Marcus sat across fromher as they drank their wine. Marcus was 38 years old, tall and slim with abody that told of regular exercise. His piercing blues and shock of blondehair had been the first things Beth had noticed when she had first met himas a shy teenage girl. The meal was a to celebrate their 18 years of marriage, a time oflove, joy and discovery for both of. Suddenly, their door opened and Bill stepped out and placed his hands on Dianne's shoulders. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Caught red-handed!“Here you are,” he said cheerfully. “Morning John. Did you guys sleep well?” he enquired, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I was wanking furiously at his wife and that she was openly displaying herself to me.“Umm, Hi... Good morning Bill,” I stumbled. “Erm, yes, thanks. Like a couple of babies!”"I was just telling John how good you fucked me last. And he'd only managed to write a page and a half of his ten page paper sofar.He sighed in frustration and leaned back from his computer. If only hecould masturbate as a woman! Then maybe he'd actually be able to relievethe stress. It wasn't that masturbating as a man wasn't good anymore, itwas just... Not what he was looking for.As if to grant his request he felt and odd tingle and suddenly the worldwas spinning. Next thing he knew he was a tiny woman laying in a pile ofclothes in his chair. He.
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