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Drew’s diary

My day got worse. 

I spent my lunch break in Mrs R's office. I sat on the office sofa, with Mrs R sitting next to me, very close.  I watched her video about pedicure technique. Twice. And while I was watching, her hand roamed freely around my thighs. 

At particular points in the video, she would lean into me, and whisper encouraging remarks into my ear. 'See, sweetie, that’s the way to do it. That’s the way to please your Mistress'. 

She had freshened up her perfume, and I felt completely overwhelmed. This was heightened by the effect of watching her on the video explaining about feet, while she herself was whispering in my ear, and running her talons up and down my thigh. 

While she ran the video for the second time, her hand came to rest on the prominent bulge in my jeans, the heel of her hand pressing my engorged cock, her palm squeezing my balls, and her nails digging into my perineum. 

All the while, she whispered a commentary on her video, her appearance, her makeup, clothes, high heels (very high) and so on. I could barely breathe. 

At the end of the video, she gave me one final squeeze, stood up, and asked me to join her for lunch. 

This entailed me kneeling at her feet, looking up at her while she ate. Every now and then, she would break off a portion of her lunch, and feed it to me. Every time I tried to speak, she would press a finger against my lips. 'Sh sweetie, Mommie's eating'.

After lunch it was time for pedi class. 
I had to practise what I learned from the video on each of the other pupils. Mrs R insisted that I show each girl my manicured nails, and ask to do their feet. 

I felt, painfully, the contrast between my rugged male clothes and my daintily manicured fingers, and the disdainful or amused looks I received from each girl as I asked to serve them. 

My erection had not abated, but I was able to hide it as I crouched over each foot.  

I could distantly hear Mrs R asking her questions for her test. Sounded very personal, and I was glad I was excused from taking it. 

I was on the third pair of feet when one of the girls spilled an entire jug of squash over me. I was soaked. Amidst a howl of giggles, I was whisked back into Mrs R's office, 

Before I knew what was happening, I was towelled down, and wearing a tight silk shirt, a thong, and very tight pair of velvet shorts. All in pink!

The shorts were very high cut at the back, largely exposing my buttocks, and Mrs R pulled them up very tight, so that they pressed firmly up my crack. She also made a big fuss about the fact that my cock was so visible, outlined in the shorts’ flat front. Once again she gripped me firmly. I was mortified, torn between sexual excitement and total shame. I couldn’t face the class like this!

Of course, I did what I was told. Mrs R resumed her place sitting on her platform.  I knelt at her feet, doing her pedicure while she finished asking her test questions. Although I was happy that my position meant my prominent erection was hidden, my practically naked bottom was on display to the whole class, and I was dressed like a complete sissy. 

Eventually, the test finished, and I completed Mrs R's feet. I hoped to get to my desk at the back of the class, and shrink away. But no. There was another torment. One of the girls suggested I took the test. So I had to stand, facing the whole class, answering deeply personal questions about sexuality, female hygiene, sociology and all manner of embarrassing subjects. 

To make matters worse, Mrs R had a firm grip on the back of my shorts' waistband, pulling up so that I couldn’t move, and that the entire sensitive area was pressed tightly by the pink velvet. 

I looked up at the ceiling, trying to focus on the questions. If I mumbled, Mrs R would give a tug on my shorts. 'Speak up, sweetie, we all want to hear'. Although my heart was pumping, and all I wanted to do was run, I found that I could get through this by staring at a spot on the ceiling, ignoring the humiliation of the girls looking at me and the physical sensations of the clothing, and Mrs R's grip. 

I focussed on why I was doing this. For Lady Majja. For Her. She wanted me to do this. 

I felt a surge of confidence, and looked away from the ceiling, looking back at the class. I was proud to serve, to obey my Mistress. 

I looked at each girl in turn, at their beauty, their scorn, their amusement. I am proud to obey my mistress. 

I looked my desk, at the back of the class. It was no longer empty. 

She was sitting at my desk, watching me. The divine Miss Majjja. She. 

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