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Ms Joan part 2
I couldn’t resist taking the story on a bit further. My words now, not Ms Joan's

As he watched Her stride off in the direction of the bar, he picked up the heavy case and started to walk towards the lift. ‘Mr xxx’, he heard the reception say, ‘yes ma’am’ he returned. ‘What is your lovely wife’s name?’ ‘Joan , ma’am’. ‘Well, run along now boy, and do the ironing’. The receptionist smiled. ‘And make sure you do a good job!’ ‘Yes ma’am’. 
He scurried quickly away, his cheeks on fire. He now had a dilemma. He had to do a good job, which took time, but that meant his wife would be alone at the bar. He unpacked at haste, carefully placing his wife’s underwear in the top drawer, his own in the bottom. He hung her coats and other clothes, and set up the ironing board. 
Just as he was starting to iron, the phone rang. It rang twice. He ran across the room and picked it up. ‘There you are sweetie, what took you so long? You know I don’t like to be kept waiting! I need my purse. Now!’ He quickly found the purse, nervously trying to hold it in a way that it was hidden. 
It’s impossible for a man to hold a purse without looking foolish. As he shot past the receptionist, she gave him a quizzical look. ‘Nice purse’, she said. ‘Will you tell your delightful wife that I’m off duty in a few minutes, and I’d be delighted to buy her a drink.’ 
‘Yes, ma’am’, he replied, skidding off to the bar. ‘Oh darling, I had almost given up on you. I assume you have finished the ironing? You haven’t? Oh that’s very disappointing. Run along, then, like a good boy! Chop chop!’ Joan smiled, sardonically.
‘B b b but, the receptionist, she’s coming to buy you a drink, and she said…’ ‘Shhh, sweetie, just go and do your chores. And change into your other outfit, why don’t you, and join us when you’ve finished’
Once again the crimson flared in his cheeks. The other outfit! In the bar!! In front of the receptionist!!!
He worked as hard and well as he could. The ironing was done, shirts on hangers, underwear carefully folded in the drawer. He bent down to get his change of clothing from his drawer. Again the phone went. ‘Sweetie, I think you should wear bring your little friend!'.

He cringed. He reached into her drawer for her sex toy case. Aside from the various things she liked to use on him and herself, there was a large electric butt plug, which she liked to make him wear. It was very big for him, and he always found it very difficult to insert himself.

After the application of lubricant, and adopting the embarrassing position she had taught him when she was 'inserting', he managed it. He felt very full. Just as she was putting on the outfit she had chosen, the phone rang. 'Come on sweetie! Hurry up, you’re missing all the fun!'

At that point she triggered the remote app on her phone, and the plug began to vibrate inside him. With difficulty he struggled into the outfit she had chosen for him, which was a very old fashioned boys sailor suit. He caught a glimpse in the mirror. He looked ridiculous. As he hesitated at the door way, the vibrations increased.

She was turning it up! Desperately, he run down the corridor, jumping into the lift. Three teenage girls were in there already. They made comments about his uniform, giggling and touching him. 'Hello little sailor boy', 'are you going to dance a jig for us, Jack?' 'is that a horn pipe in your trousers?'

They were still laughing as he scuttled out of the lift and nearly ran towards the bar, although the increasing vibrations inside him made it hard to walk in a masculine way. 'Ah there you are baby! Don’t you look sweet. Are you enjoying having a friend?' She smiled.

As far as he was concerned it was anything but nice. The pants were in off white satin, high waisted and cut very tight. They were short in the leg, showing his ankles above pale blue espadrilles. They were buttoned up the sides, so the front was extremely flat. The matching jacket was short, like a bolero top, while a huge sash around his waist and a ribbon round his hat were in a pale blue that matched his slippers. He felt utter shame, as he twirled around, aware that his wife and Mrs R, sitting very close, we’re looking closely at his butt and his trouser front and smiling broadly.

He was now in trouble. His satin pants, and the silky thong he was wearing underneath, together with the insistent thrumming of his 'friend' were causing him to edge ever closer to disaster. His wife was showing her new friend the app on her phone. Summoning up all the puny resistance, he stopped.

'No!' He whimpered, weakly. The temperature in the room dropped sharply. Two sets of immaculately made up eyes shot in his direction. 'No. Stop this now.' His wife’s crimson talon hovered above her phone, 'WHAT did you say?' Her smile had disappeared. Her features set in a mask of disapproval.

His flicker of rebellion was snuffed out faster than it had arisen. 'S s sorry' 'What do you say? Louder!' ‘Sorry, Mummy', he stammered. ‘It’s these clothes, and th that thing.' 'Oh you don’t like your friend? You liked it well enough before! And talking of friends, shouldn’t you apologize to mine?'
He has certainly been humiliated...but somehow I suspect it's not yet over!

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