It was even worse since she was the one would could fire me. Betsy glared at me, then coldly said, "These are the rules. You are to address me as Ms. ...impson. You are the secretary... I am the boss. Remember that." She paused at that, waiting for my answer. I nodded, staring at the ground, feeling humiliated. "Yes." I answered quietly. And at her glare, I repeated, "Yes... Ms. Simpson." She smiled faintly at my response, though she still glared at me. "You work there..." she gestured to a small. (No, I was not drunk,as I had only had 2 drinks!)Then, as I left, Janine gave me his phone number and asked if we couldpossibly met again, maybe for drink.For the next few days my mind was a buzz. I had found it exciting to bearound a group of cross-dressers, men who wanted to be and act likewomen. The more I thought about it, in my perverse way, the more Ifound myself getting turned on, until one night I was heavilymasturbating to the mental image of dressing a man up in a frock.I awoke the. That was nice of her, she thought, but asked, “Come back in, Grace. I’ll do you and Becky now.” Grace had other ideas as she held up the knickers. “I was thinking, Mrs Hunt, that you need something else.” Mrs Hunt was bemused. “Like what?” she asked the teenager wondering what she could possibly mean. Grace played her card. “Well you know you have promised me and Becky a spanking and a caning?” Mrs Hunt smiled and said relenting. “Well maybe I won’t now you have ‘Paid your debt,’ girls.” Grace. “Take it off.” I told her. Her hands reached desperately behind her as her back rose off the bed. I decided to help and bit her cleavage as she did so, a surprised hiss piercing the still air as her body jumped off the bed for a moment. The bra was pulled away and her body slumped to the bed again, her breasts swaying gently from the motion. It was held up in front of me, wiggled triumphantly with that sexy little grin, and thrown aside dismissively. As her breasts settled and her eyes found.
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