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."
