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Thejacket was pink light wool, collarless the hem flared. I wore a whitesilk blouse with a slight ruffle at the neck and it had ruffled cuffsthat stuck out of the jacket. The slacks were pink like the jacket aslight flare at the cuff. I wore black kid high heeled boots, carried ablack patent purse and wore a pink chauffeur's cap with a black patentbill. I was adjourned with silver and diamond jewelry. With thisobviously sissy attire I was not allowed to pass as women. I wore lightmake up and was told to mince around like the sissy I was. So I drove myMistresses and Masters, carried purses, dusted off shoes, held doors,fetched drinks, assisted with toilet rituals and was used for theamusement of Sandra and Mona's tony friends.The day of the wedding was approaching; it had been several weeks sinceI had been allowed out of the penis restraint to have an erection muchless an orgasm. My situation did nothing to stop Sandra's desire to besexually satisfied with my tongue, hands and nose. I. Not to mention a stunning figure (it's not the food that brings me here, trust me).Quickly, she came back to my table with my drink and asked, “Are you eating with us today?”In no hurry to face the heat I nodded and ordered my favorite chicken sandwich. I've always noticed Samantha takes extra special care of me, knowing I have but sixty minutes for my lunch.Within a few minutes I had my sandwich and Samantha asked, “Is there anything else I can get you today?”I was in a playful mood and said, “Yes. You could give me a massage. They're trying to kill me at work."She smiled and said, “I don't think I can do that here." She then giggled, making those seductive dimples even more noticeable. As my mind swirled around images of her hands easing my stress, my hands began to shake. I was dropping more breadcrumbs that Hansel and Gretel.As I finished my sandwich, she came over with my bill and said, “Emily, if you're serious I would love to give you a massage.”The look on my face must have.
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