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Shagufta By Charlotte Johnson

Oh What a Tangled Web We Weave. I noticed the woman the moment she walked into the cafeteria, for she looked so completely out of place. The cafe, in which I was sat, was the sort of place where the homeless go for a cup of tea and an hour’s worth of warmth on a cold night yet she was immaculately dressed in a beautifully tailored skirt suit which did little to hide her curvaceous body. Her shoulder length blonde hair looked like she had just come from a salon and her makeup was immaculate. I could not help but stare in admiration as she slowly walked over to me on her high heeled shoes and then stared in amazement when she stopped in front of me and smiled enigmatically. “Mr Hanaphie, Saajid Hanaphie?” she asked rhetorically. I just stared at her open mouthed for a moment until I recovered what wits I had. How did this woman know my name? “Yes” “My name is Ms Johnson, Charlotte Johnson. I was wondering if I might have a word with you.” “What about?” I replied, my tone of voice anything but friendly. I wasn’t feeling in a very friendly mood at all, not surprising after everything I had recently endured. “Not here,” she said, keeping her voice friendly and professional. “What I have to say is somewhat delicate and needs to be discussed in private. “However, I promise you that what I have to say will be of great interest to you. Here,” she said, handing me a photograph “I will be in my car if you would like to discuss this,” and with that she walked away and out of the cafe. I felt my mouth drop as I looked at the image in front of me. The picture was of a stunningly beautiful young Muslim woman dressed in a sumptuous Sari. Her long black hair hung beautifully down her back and her makeup was dramatic and very feminine. In the picture, this beautiful young woman was dancing slowly with a handsome English boy, her arms around his neck, her lips firmly against his in a passionate kiss. And the picture was of me! I just groaned with embarrassment and shame. This wasn’t the first time I had seen this picture either. Some kind soul had emailed the image to my father just days and my world had simply crumbled before me. My father is a very wealthy businessman and his wealth had given me a very comfortable life style, a large comfortable home and everything I might want. However he had a very dominant, domineering character. Everything had to be his way and woe betide anyone who might stand up to him. Although he was not a violent man, his anger was legendary. My mother was totally different to him. She was the only daughter of a white colonialist and his Indian wife and, being of mixed race, I knew she felt indebted to my father for having made a good marriage. She was a quiet unassuming woman who was totally dominated by my father, deferring every important decision to him. As for me, my whole future had been mapped out for me by my father, complete my education, join my father in the family business, get married to an Indian woman of my family’s choice, settle down and have children. And I hated even the thought of all of this.

There was one exception however. University had been a revelation for me. For the first time in my life I was away from the domineering oppressive family and was able to express my own true sexuality. For three years I had let my hair grow and indulged my fantasy of being a woman at every opportunity. Only a few weeks before, I had attended a LGBT graduation party in my feminine guise only to be seduced by a handsome English boy. And then my father had seen the picture of me and my world came crashing down. I had never seen my father so angry. How could his son shame him so? What had he done to deserve a son like me? What kind of pervert was I? My mother had just sat next to him and cried when I tried to explain, tried to tell them how I felt, of how I wanted to be a woman. Then he had thrown me out, made me an outcast. He had disowned me, disinherited me, given me five minutes to pack and leave, and now, all I had, was a few pounds in my pocket and the clothes I had been able to stuff into a backpack. I had wandered the streets for a few hours after that, crying my eyes out, desperate and desolate in my misery. Not knowing what else to do, I tried to call my cousin but he would have nothing to do with me either. In fact, none of my family or so called friends would even take my calls for the word had gone out that I had shamed them all and they wanted nothing more to do with me. Despite the cold and wet weather, I had spent the last two nights sleeping rough on the streets, searching for whatever shelter I could find and I was truly miserable. And now, this strange and beautiful woman had thrust the very same photograph under my nose. I just sat there and stared at the picture in abject misery. I had reached bottom and I had nowhere else to go. So what did I have to lose? Grabbing my back pack and easing my aching bones out of the hard wooden chair, I followed the woman out of the cafe. I gasped as I saw the car that was parked outside. It was a huge Mercedes saloon and the woman was just climbing into the driver’s seat. I watched as she leant over and pushed open the passenger side door, indicating that I should join her. Wracked with indecision, I paused for a moment trying to decide what to do. For all I knew this woman was some sort of homicidal maniac, or worse still, a blackmailer. But what choice did I have? She held all the cards. Smiling ruefully, I climbed into the car and closed the door behind me. She sat there in silence for a few moments, obviously composing herself for what she wanted to say, her hand draped casually across the steering wheel of the car and on her lap was a thick manila folder. “Thank you for joining me Mr Hanaphie,” she began as she twisted her body towards me so she could talk to me more directly “or may I call you Saajid.” “How is it you know my name?” I demanded, my voice harsh and serious. “Oh, I know a great deal about you Saajid” she replied as she opened a manila folder. “Now let me see” she continued as she placed a pretty pair of spectacles on her face. “You were born in Mumbai and you came to England with your family when you were 6. You are now 21 years old and, until recently you lived with your family from whom you are now estranged. You are well educated, with a first class honours degree in business management although you have yet to secure gameful employment. Oh yes and you enjoy dressing in feminine clothes.” One by one she laid photographs of me dressed as a woman on my lap, photographs that had obviously been taken over a

considerable period of time, some of them having been taken of me whilst I was still at university and more than one of them of me in very compromising positions. “Bbbut how?” I stammered. “Like I said, I know a great deal about you Saajid. I have had my eye on you for some time. You see I make it my business to identify potential protégés and your name had cropped up on more than one occasion.” “Wwhat?” I asked incredulously “I don’t understand.” “You will, you will. Now from these pictures, it is obvious you enjoy the company of men, am I right?” “Oh God” I whispered in embarrassment. “Am I right Saajid?” she asked more forcefully this time, her tone of voice leaving no doubt that I had to answer her. “Yes!” I replied. “So, how would you classify yourself, sexually that is?” “I don’t understand the question?” I replied softly. “Would you say you were a gay man or are you a transvestite who likes to play at being a woman? Perhaps you are the real thing, a transsexual woman who dreams of the day when she can be a woman in all respects.” she asked patiently. “Oh God!” I whispered tearfully. “I don’t know, honestly I don’t know.” “But you love being a woman with a man making love to you, don’t you?” she said as she placed one more picture of me on my lap. This time the picture was of me dressed in some incredible lingerie, my hair and makeup perfect in every way. I was kneeling in front of the young Englishman who had appeared in the first picture and had his cock buried deep in my sensuous mouth as I gave him an incredible blow job. “Yyyyesss!” I moaned. “But hhoww” I asked. “The man in the picture works for me on an occasional basis. He helps me to identify subjects like you whilst enjoying the company of the sort of woman he likes to be with. A win win situation, you might say.” “So wwhat iiss this aallll about” I stammered. I watched as she removed her spectacles and closed the folder, obviously composing herself for what she was about to say. “I have a rather unusual occupation, Saajid” she started. “There is a small group of very wealthy and influential men who, shall we say, have an all consuming passion for the sort of woman you appear to be. They commission me to find them suitable partner, a women who will fulfil their dreams in the way only they can. Each client I have gives me a very specific and detailed description of the sort of woman they would like to be with and I find someone, like you, and help them become that woman.” “My God,” I exclaimed. “You want me to be a prostitute!”

“My goodness, no! You couldn’t be further from the truth actually. I find ‘ladies’ who they can fall in love with, have as girlfriend and even marry. Above all I find them ‘girls’ who can be completely convincing in the role. After all these men will want to be seen in public with their wives and girlfriends and the last thing they would want is to be publically embarrassed by being exposed as having a transsexual partner. Perhaps you could think of me as being a matchmaker.” “But his is utterly bizarre!” I exclaimed. “I can assure you it is not Saajid. So far, 23 young people have passed through my hands, most of whom are now living happily as the wives or girlfriends of some of the most powerful men in the world. There is even one notable head of state whose wife is a graduate from my academy and, in America, there is a female senator whose ‘personal aid’ is one of my girls.” “And now, you want me to be one of these, these concubines” I whispered, still finding it difficult to believe. “Concubine!” she laughed “what a quaint word but yes, I suppose that is as good as any to describe what I want you to be. “So, if I agree, what happens?” I asked simply. “You, for all intents and purposes, will be reinvented, as I like to call it. You will be enrolled in the program and I, and my staff, will help you to become the sort of woman my client is looking for. We will teach you everything you need to know to be a successful female member of society and even create a whole new identity for you, one which will match even the closest scrutiny.” “And, if I decide to pull out of the program, what then?” “I can honestly say that no one has ever done that but everything will be done to ‘encourage’ you to stay” “Bbbbut, what iff....” I stammered. “What if you don’t like your benefactor? Well that has happened just once in the past twelve years. The girl in question married her sponsor but then, some years later they parted amicably. She received a very generous divorce settlement and he is now remarried to another one of my girls. Think of this as an arranged marriage if you like, something I know still happens in your culture. Many of those women go on to lead very happy married lives, especially if their husbands are extremely wealthy.” “Oh God!” I groaned “If only my father hadn’t seen that picture.” “Ah yes, the picture. I have a confession to make there. It was me that sent it to him.” “What!” I screeched “Stop the car, stop the car.” I yelled as I desperately tried to open the passenger door even though the car was still moving at speed. Slowly the car drew to a stop at the side of the road where, instantly, I jumped out, not even bothering to close the door behind me. Furiously, I began to stride away from the car, anger at what she had done pouring out of me. It was then that a strong domineering voice made me turn back as Ms Johnson called to me, using my feminine name. “Shagufta, stop!” she ordered. I turned and looked at her as she walked back over to me, a look of concern on her face.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way Shagufta but your father would have found out about you sooner or later and his reaction would have been just the same. By sending the picture to him, I just brought that moment forward in time a little.” “You bastard” I whispered. “Oh I have been called worse than that darling, I promise you. Look Shagufta, this is a once in a lifetime time offer,” she said softly “and as far as I can see it you have just two choices. Join the programme and enjoy a long and happy privileged life as the woman you obviously want to be or spend the rest of your struggling to come to terms with who you are.” It was just at that moment, it began to rain, a slow steady drizzle that immediately began to soak into my clothes. Ms Johnson just climbed back into her car and sat there, the passenger door still open as she waited for me to make my decision. I just stood there, water starting to drip from the end of my nose. My clothes were dirty, my hair lank and greasy and I knew I smelled like three day old boiled cabbage. I found myself just shouting out in frustration but what choice did I have? Slowly, with every muscle aching from sleeping rough for three nights, I picked up my backpack from where I had thrown it and wearily went back to the car, defeat clear on my face. “Oh Shagufta” said Ms Johnson, obviously determined to think of me in the feminine from now on, “I am so glad you have decided to join us, darling.” “So what now?” I asked simply “Now you sleep” Ms Johnson said her voice composed and unruffled. It was then that I felt a tiny prick on my thigh and looking down I saw that she had a small hypodermic syringe in her hand, its needle buried in the flesh of my thigh. All I remembered was the look of victory on her face as I slowly slipped into darkness. Sleeping beauty awakes The first thing I noticed when I awoke was the smell of the sheets on the bed I was in. It was a crisp clean clinical smell that told me the sheets had been recently changed. The second thing I noticed was that my arms were strapped down and that I could hardly move a muscle. Slowly I opened my eyes to see a smiling face peering back at me, a face that belonged to none other than the woman who had enticed me into her car. “Welcome back Shagufta” she said as she came over to me with a plastic beaker which had a straw poking out from its lid. “Where am I?” I croaked, my throat dry and cracked “You are in my home. Here, take a sip of this.” She held the straw to my mouth and lifted my head with her other hand so I could drink and the first few drops of water were like nectar. “Thank you” I croaked again, my voice returning somewhat as the nurse placed a second pillow under my head. It was then that I saw the drip firmly taped to my left arm, the catheter tube leading to a bottle, the leads and cables, feeding information into an electronic monitor. “Now if you promise not to wriggle I will loosen your restraints,” said Ms Johnson, her voice commanding and efficient.

“Restraints” I croaked again. “Mm, restraints. We could hardly have you wriggling about in your sleep now, could we? “ “What’s happened? What have you done to me?” I demanded my voice a little stronger now. “Oh you’ll soon see Shagufta.” she said as fussed about me for a few moments, loosening the straps around my wrists a little although not enough for me to pull out my hands. Then, very carefully she removed the drip, the catheter and the electronic monitors so I was no longer hooked up to anything. She straightened my covers and fluffed up my pillows a little and as she was doing so I found myself staring at her. She was undeniably beautiful. In her thirties I guessed, her long blond hair hung loosely around her shoulders and was perfectly styled. Her makeup was tasteful and she was dressed in a gorgeous outfit of a patterned silk blouse and white shirt that did little to hide her incredible figure. When she had finished releasing me from the arm restraints she smiled and sat on the edge of the bed next to me. “I suppose I owe you an explanation of sorts Shagufta. After all we have made some significant changes whilst you have been asleep.” “Wwwhat!” I stammered, confusion running through my mind. “You have been here for nearly six weeks now and during that time we have made a few changes,” she explained patiently, speaking almost as if she were talking to a child. “In our experience, girls like you who are, shall we say, a little apprehensive about joining the programme, react better if the changes are made whilst you are asleep. That way your body can heal before you see the new you.” “Oh God!!” I shouted, “Wwwhat, what have you done to me.” “Rather than explain, let me show you darling.” She grabbed hold of my arm and encouraged me to sit up and to swing my legs over the side of the bed. As I did so, I realised just how weak I felt but, despite this, I managed to stagger to my feet with Ms Johnsons support. A shapeless hospital gown covered my body but I could not help but gasp out loud as I felt an unaccustomed weight pull down on my chest. “Oh Shit” I whispered “you haven’t have you?” Without saying a word, Ms Johnson led me over to a full length mirror on the wall and as I stood there, she unfastened the ties of my gown.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh” was all I could stammer as I saw my reflection in the mirror. My black hair hung loosely around my shoulders, falling delightfully onto the round curving contours of the most magnificent pair of breasts a woman could ever have dreamed of owning. Firm and round, each breast was blessed with wonderful areola that surrounded firm large nipples. Somehow, my waist seemed smaller and my hips wider too and I sighed a little when I saw the penis that still hung between my legs, not knowing if I felt relieved or disappointed that it was still there. “Oh God!” I said again, my knees buckling a little, the only reason I hadn’t fallen to the floor was that Ms Johnson was holding me by the elbow “What have you done to me” I screeched, anger now beginning to flood through my body “Breast surgery, naturally, a little facial work too. Laser treatments to remove unwanted hair. Oh and there is a long acting hormone implant too.” she replied matter of factly. “How dare you do this to me. I’m a freak!” I screamed at the top of my voice, panic now taking control of my emotions. “Now stop that this instant Shagufta!” Ms Johnson demanded. “Stop being such a child.” “But how could you!” I screeched again. “I’ve only done what you wanted to be done,” she replied simply. “Besides, what choice do you have? Looking like you do now, you could certainly make a living walking the streets I suppose” she sneered. Anger now flooded through me, the surge of adrenalin giving me strength to stand on my own. Twisting violently, I broke away from Ms Johnson and naked, my hands covering my breasts and my penis, I twisted to face her. “How could you, how could you do this to me.” I demanded again as I backed away from them, backing towards the bed. “I did it because I could!” she shouted back, anger on her face. “But I did it because I know you wanted me too.” She said, her voice now steady and under control. “Here, put this on” she said firmly as she handed me a robe. “Now come and sit down Shagufta” Ms Johnson said holding me by the arm once again and leaving me no choice but to walk towards the bed. “Oh God!” I said “tears beginning to pour down my face. “What have I done? What have I let myself in for?” She reached into her tunic pocket and pulled out a tissue, handing it to me. “Oh Gggod” I stammered again “What am I to do? Look at me, I am a freak!” “No you are not” she replied firmly “You are beautiful Shagufta” she said lifting my chin so I was looking at her. “Her voice now was soft, comforting, supportive. “But..but.. “I stammered “But nothing Shagufta. Besides, you really want to be a woman, don’t you?” “I,I,I ....... I .” I stammered, unable to express my feelings. “Don’t you Shagufta?” she asked more firmly her voice leaving me no choice but to answer. “Yes!” I said, my voice cracking with emotion.

And then the tears really did begin to flow. Entering The Programme. It took me nearly fifteen minutes to cry myself out. I’m not sure why I cried so much, for, as a man, I had never been emotional this way. Then I remembered the hormone implant Ms Johnson had spoken about. Perhaps that was why I was feeling the way I was. Any Ms Johnson just sat there patiently and let me get on with it knowing, perhaps, exactly how I was going to react. Slowly I regained my composure a little and was eventually able to look Ms Johnson in the face once more. My mind was working overtime by them. ‘Bide your time Saajid’ I later remembered saying to myself ’Lull her into a false sense of security Saajid. Make her believe that you are going along with this Saajid. At the first opportunity you are out of here Saajid’ “Right Shagufta” she began as she sat back down on the couch “Let’s start again shall we. First of all I want no more of this silliness. You are now in the programme, whether you like it or not. Is that clear?” I sniffed. “Yes Ms Johnson,” I said meekly, hoping my acting was good enough to pass by her. “Good. That’s better. I have never had to throw anyone out of the programme and I don’t want to have to start with you Shagufta. I somehow don’t think you would enjoy being penniless and on the streets once again although I am sure you could make quite a good living as a prostitute, looking like you do.” “So what happens now?” I asked. “Over the next few weeks, you are to be put through what can only be described as ‘girlie boot camp.’ You will be taught everything you need to know to function as a woman in everyday society. When I deem you ready, you will be allowed to meet your gentleman sponsor so that he may decide if you are a suitable consort for him. It is at this point in your training that we will decide the next steps in your transition.” “Wwhat?” I stammered. “Some girls and their partners choose full gender reassignment. Some choose to remain as you are now. But that is a decision that can only be made once you have met.” “Oh!” I said suddenly realising what she had said moments before. “You said that my, what did you call him, sponsor, gets to decide if I am suitable for him or not.” “Yes, that is correct. After all he is paying a great deal of money for me to provide him with a bride like you.” “What happens if I’m not, you know, suitable? What happens if he doesn’t like me?” “We shall just have to see that you are, won’t we. However, he has already paid the full fee for my services and if he decides to walk away, he loses everything.” “But what happens to me?” “In this unlikely situation, I will find another gentleman for you instead.” “And what happens if I don’t like him?” I asked meekly. “Ah! That is where you don’t have much choice in the matter. However, all my psychological profiling suggests that the two of you will be eminently compatible, so let’s not worry about that now shall we.” “Who is he, Ms Johnson?” I asked softly.

“Never you mind about that,” making it quite clear that that topic of conversation was at an end. “You will find out in all good time. Now Shagufta, I realise that such a long period sedated will have left you feeling weak and out of sorts, but I would like you to join me for dinner this evening. That means we need to get you looking a little less like a scarecrow and more like a beautiful young woman. Do you think you can manage that? “Mm.” I replied I feel a little wobbly, a little sore, but I think I can manage” I replied ruefully, struggling to sit up. “God, these tits are going to take a bit of getting used to.” I giggled, only half acting to make her believe my humour to be returning a little. My new breasts would take some getting used to after all! “That’s more like it,” she grinned. “Now how’s about I show you around the house. After all it’s going to be your home for a while. I followed her slowly out of the room, my muscles complaining at the unaccustomed effort. The house, it seemed was set in its own grounds and used to belong to some titled family that had fallen on hard times. It was literally enormous. Ms Johnson first showed me the ‘working wing’ as she liked to call it. There was of course the infirmary, a full equipped beauty room, a gym, a classroom, a dance studio and even an underground swimming pool. Then she took me into the west wing where my bedroom was to be found. I could only be described as palatial. A huge beautifully appointed bed, French period furniture, its own walk in wardrobe and dressing room and its own en suite bathroom. Walking over to the window, I stared out at a stunning view of rolling countryside, a view made all the more spectacular for us being so high up in the house. “What do you think?” she said smiling at me. “It’s incredible!” I whispered, hardly daring to believe what I saw.” But...” “But it’s not quite what you expected, is it? What you have to realise Shagufta is that, whilst certain things are now beyond your control, such as your breast implants, everything here is first class! You will even be given a very generous clothing allowance so that you can build up your wardrobe. Here, come sit on the bed for a moment, you are beginning to look a little tired.” I did as I was asked and sat down gratefully on the edge of the bed. “Before we go any further I need to explain a few things to you. First of all the rules. I expect you to do everything you are told to do without question. Failure in any way to do this will result in punishment and may result in expulsion from the programme. This has only happened once and the girl in question now has to pay the rent by fucking anyone she can find to pay her. Rule two. There is no leaving the house unaccompanied until you are given permission to do so. This is for your own protection really as you have an awful lot to learn before you will be able to do so safely. Finally I expect the highest of standards of appearance and deportment. You will at all times be a lady. Sexy, yes, slutty absolutely no!” “But... what if....” “No more buts, whats and ifs now, if you please Shagufta.” Ms Johnson said interrupting me. “Instead, it is time to make you realise just how beautiful you are Shagufta,” she grinned happily. “Wait there whilst I go and get Amy.” “Amy?” I asked not having heard that name before. “Amy is our resident beautician and hair stylist. She’s going to do your make over for you. She is also the one who is going to teach you all about hair and makeup too so pay attention “she said sternly. I sat in the chair and waited whilst Ms Johnson disappeared. I sat and stared in the mirror only to discover that my heart was pounding. All sort of things were going through my mind. I was still so angry at the way I was being forced into this, desperate to escape. Yet oh how I wanted to see what I might look like with a professional make over. This was all so damn confusing and I suddenly wanted to cry again. Damn hormones.

A few moments later Ms Johnson returned, followed by a pretty young woman with short brunette hair. She was dressed in a classic beauticians smock and had a big grin on her face as she walked into the room. “Shagufta “started Ms Johnson “this is Amy. She is going to do your hair and make up for you. Like I said before, pay attention because it will not be long before you have to do this for yourself.” “Hi Shagufta, welcome to the programme. So are you ready to start looking beautiful and glamorous then?” “I don’t think I have much choice in the matter!” I declared a little more sullenly than I had intended. “I will leave you to it then Amy. Do you think you can have her ready by 7 pm?” asked Ms Johnson as she walked towards the bedroom door. “Oh I think so, Ms Johnson.” “Right then Shagufta, let’s get started shall we? Into the bathroom with you,” she ordered “Have a soak in the bath and I will be back in a little while. You will find an industrial sized container of Nair in there. Go and get rid of all that fuzz on your body. Ugh!!!” she said as she gave a mock shudder and propelled me toward the bathroom door. I did as I was told and went into the bathroom and opened the taps that fed a huge old cast iron Victorian roll top bath. I added a generous amount of scented bath oil and, as the tub filled, I slipped off my robe, something I had been dying to do so for the past hour, and stood before the full length mirror on the wall. My breasts were simply incredible, large, at least a d cup, firm and a perfect tear drop shape. I poked and prodded myself feeling the weight of the silicon inserts looking for evidence of scarring from the operation. All that I could find were two tiny red marks, one in each armpit where I assumed the prosthesis were inserted. Once the bath was full I found myself slipping into the scalding hot water, every muscle in my body groaning with relief as the heat penetrated my flesh. I just lay there for a few minutes luxuriating in the water before my hands began to explore my body a little. My hips were definitely fleshier that they had been and my stomach was flat and taught. And then I found my nipples! God it felt good as I slowly caressed them with my fingers, the soap bubbles tickling my flesh as I did so. And then there was a sudden rap on the bathroom door as Amy re-entered the bedroom.

“I hope you are not playing with those gorgeous tits of yours,” she laughed through the door, knowing full well that I was. “How about getting rid of all that nasty hair?” “Yes Amy” I moaned as I gave my nipple one last tweak. I pulled the plug and let the bathwater drain away as I stood and grabbed the huge bottle of Nair. I was really quite excited about this as I had never dared to do this at home. I read the label before liberally coating my entire body with the strange smelling cream. As I stood there waiting for the cream to do its work, Amy banged on the door once more “And don’t forget to wash and condition your hair Shagufta” she ordered.

“Ok,” I replied as I turned on the shower over the bath. I couldn’t believe the amount of hair that came from my body. Four times I had to clear the drain, throwing the hair into the toilet. Soon my body was totally smooth and I couldn’t help but run my hands up and down my legs. I was in heaven! I was then that I realised something strange was happening. I was so excited, I was so turned on, yet my little penis had simply not reacted at all. It just hung there, hairless, lifeless, a useless piece of flesh between my legs. “Must be the hormone implants” I mused “Well, no great loss there” I said speaking aloud to myself. “What?” called Amy happily. “Nothing!” I called as I began to wash my long dark hair. A few minutes later and I rejoined Amy in the bedroom, dressed in a fluffy white dressing gown and my hair wrapped in a towel, just as I had always imagined doing one day. She had been busy whilst I had been in the bath. The dressing table was now laden with cosmetics and every other imaginable device for styling hair and a chair had been placed on a large white sheet just in front of the mirror. There were several bags on the bed too and I could just see a tantalising hint of lace peeking from one of them. The next three hours were an absolute delight. Amy first treated my hair to a deep, deep, conditioning which left it feeling so incredibly smooth. She had then spent ages trying to decide how to cut it for me. In the end she left it long and straight so that it would hand beautifully around my face and shoulders. Then she had given me a makeover. She had begun by waxing my eye brows. Ouch! But she was able to create a fabulous narrow arch effect to help emphasise my eyes. Now I consider myself to be quite proficient with make up by Amy was a genius. Each step of my transformation was carefully explained and I took in every detail, desperate to remember what she was doing. Foundation set in place with powder was the base as she complimented me on my complexion. The foundation was light, barely visible and matched my olive skin tone perfectly. Then she gave me a smoking sultry look perfect for an Asian face, highlighting my dark brown eyes with lashings of eye liner and mascara. My lips were painted a dark red and looked luscious and I ended up with cheek bones I never knew I had. By the time she had finished I hardly recognised myself. I looked utterly fantastic and couldn’t help but scream out loud with pleasure when Amy announced she was done. “Right then Shagufta, let’s get you dressed shall we. The only stipulation Ms Johnson has made is that you wear a Saree this evening. However she didn’t say what you had to wear underneath. I thought these” she said as she pulled out the most sumptuous set of black lingerie I had ever seen from one of the colourful carrier bags on the bed. “Now off with your robe.” I did as I was asked and slipped of the robe I was wearing so I was stood there naked for her to see. “God Shagufta!” she exclaimed

“Those tits are fantastic! I hope this bra is going to be big enough” she giggled. Quickly she helped me into my lingerie. She fastened the bra behind my back and spent a little time adjusting the straps and I suddenly had the most fantastic, incredible, wonderful, sexy cleavage. The suspender belt and stockings came next followed by the matching panties that were so tight they left no tell tale signs. “Now Shagufta, I am getting into unknown territory darling. I have absolutely no idea how you put on a Saree.” She said as she went over to a wardrobe and pulled out a suit cover. “I am not even sure if this will be suitable,” she continued as she unzipped the case. I just gasped. For out of the case came the most incredible Saree made from the finest Indian silk. “Oh my God Amy!” I exclaimed. “That must have cost a fortune” I said as fingered the material. “My goodness. It is a designer original.” “Come on then, show me how you put it on!” she grinned enthusiastically. I started by separating out the different parts and then put on the petticoat and the blouse and the basis for the sari. Then I showed her how the sari was pleated and tucked into the petticoat wrapping it around my body before draping it elegantly over my right shoulder. I sighed with pleasure as I felt the silk caress my bare flesh and could hardly suppress a huge grin as I saw my reflection in the full length mirror. “I hope you realise that this is a traditional Hindu costume Amy and that I am actually a Muslim.” I said softly as I looked at myself in the mirror. “Is that a problem Shagufta?” asked Amy with a look of concern as she came over to me. “It might be for my family, if they were talking to me, but not for me. I am not what you might call religious and I just love the way the Saree looks on me,” I grinned. “On top of that, the last thing I would wear is a Burka. I just hope the guy who is paying for all of this does not expect me to wear one because he will have a real fight on his hands if he does.” I said defiantly. “That’s something you will have to take up with Ms Johnson darling. She doesn’t tell me who her clients are, only the sort of look they are after. What I can tell you is that your sponsor wants a mixture of traditional Indian dress like this and modern western dress too.” “Oh good” I said grinning at her “because I look fantastic in a little black cocktail dress.” I said my enthusiasm for the moment getting the better of me forcing the notion that I intended to escape far from my mind. “My goodness Shagufta, look at the time. I promised to have you ready by 7 pm and it is just after” she groaned. “Ms Johnson is a stickler for punctuality. Come on!” She grabbed me by the hand and practically dragged me out of the room. We flew down the stairs giggling like school girls and she them took me into a small parlour where Ms Johnson was sat waiting patiently for us. She first gave Amy a frown as if to say, you’re late’ and then grinned broadly as I walked in behind her.

“Thank you Amy” she said as my new friend gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and then said her goodbyes, leaving me alone with Ms Johnson once again. I watched nervously as she stood and walked over to me. Slowly she walked around me, inspecting every last detail. I have to admit I felt a little like some prize poodle being judged at Crufts as she made a detailed inspection of my face, looking for any little flaws or imperfections; as she fingered the material of my sari and felt the smooth richness of my hair in her hands. Finally satisfied she once again sat down and smiled at me. “Well Shagufta, I can honestly say that you have far exceeded my expectations. You look wonderful. What are you wearing underneath? Show me please” Reluctantly, I leant down and pulled up my Saree and petticoat just enough for her to see my stocking top. “Ah, East meets West I see. I approve of that.” “Thank you Ms Johnson” I said nervously “So what do you think, you know, of how I look?” “You have made a very good start Shagufta,” she started. “But then I knew you would look beautiful. However, just looking beautiful isn’t everything. You have to act like a woman, move like a woman, talk like a woman and that is something that does not yet come naturally to you. Every mannerism has to be perfect and look as if you have been doing it all your life. All of that we will teach you to do. Now come and sit down will you Shagufta. I have some things I would like to give you.” I walked over to the settee next to where Ms Johnson and she handed me a think manila folder and indicated that I should open it. “In here you will find a complete personal history for yourself that I would like you to learn. You will see that you have been provided with dual nationality, both Indian and British, as your fictional father is English and your fictional mother coming from the Punjab. There are passports from both countries, naturally. I expect you to learn every small detail included here and will be testing you on this later in the week. There are also details of a bank account that has been opened in your feminine name of Shagufta Hanaphie and which has a credit of £5000 along with debit and credit cards. The money is to buy you a new wardrobe of clothes and I have been instructed that should that not be sufficient, further funds will be made available. Finally, you have a profile of your sponsor. This is to give you some background into the sort of person he is. I will give you his name later of course, before you meet him for the first time.” “When will that be Ms Johnson?” I asked biting my bottom lip deliberately trying to look nervous whilst all the time saying to myself ‘No chance of that ever happening’. “When I think you are ready,” she declared her voice clinical and business like. “Anyway, you must be starving. Come into the kitchen will you. There is someone else I would like you to meet.” She stood and I followed. A short walk through the house and we were soon entering a huge kitchen. Stood at a counter, a knife in hand, as he chopped away at some tomatoes, was an absolute hunk of a man. Clean shaven with short black hair, he was dressed in a tight black t shirt that did little to hide his incredible muscular physique. He looked up as we entered and smiled an easy smile that oozed masculinity, making his whole face light up with

delight and I have to admit I blushed a little when some very un-lady like thoughts crossed my mind. “This is Greg, my right hand man so to speak. He does everything around here from cooking to chauffeuring. Greg this is Shagufta, the new girl.” “Hi beautiful. I Hope you like fresh grilled chicken with salad,” he said, his voice deep and masculine and all I could do is blush with pleasure. “Greg is also in charge of security here. He will ensure you are safe and secure at all times Shagufta. Won’t you Greg?” “It will be my pleasure Ms Johnson,” he replied brightly “Now if you ladies would like to be seated in the dining room, I will serve dinner,” he said smiling at me once again. Dinner was a quiet affair with just Ms Johnson and myself sat at a large dinner table in the main dining room. The table was huge and could easily have seated 24 but we were seated at one end as Greg served us a delicious meal accompanied by a superb chilled Chablis. As we ate, Ms Johnson told me a little more about what I was to expect over the next few weeks, about how I would be expected to do many of the things a woman would do such as go to a beauty parlour for a hairdressing appointment and to go shopping for all the clothes I might need. She refused to tell me anymore about my benefactor, something I found incredibly frustrating, saying that everything I needed to know was in my pack. By 10mpm the stress of the day and the wine were beginning to take their toll on me and I couldn’t help but stifle a yawn. “Oh how remiss of me Shagufta,” said Ms Johnson, smiling at me “You must be exhausted. Off to bed with you. I will expect you for breakfast at 8 am. Greg!” she shouted, calling him back from the kitchen. “Greg, would you escort Shagufta back to her room please. She will probably get lost otherwise.” I followed him back up the stairs, desperately trying to memorise the layout of the house in preparation for making my bid for freedom. I followed him down this corridor and that landing until eventually I recognised the door to my own bedroom. Interesting, with a soft ‘Goodnight Shagufta’, Greg pushed open the door before standing to one side to allow me to enter. Unsurprisingly, Amy was waiting for me. “So how did it go Shagufta?” she asked nervously. “Did Ms Johnson approve of the way you looked?” “I think so” I said wearily as I sat on the bed next to her. “Oh goodie, I knew she would. So how do you feel, you know, about all of this?” “Confused might be a good word,” I admitted. “I love being a woman and never believed I could look anywhere near as good as I do now. I just wish I had not been forced into doing this Amy. And I really miss my Mum right now,” I admitted tearfully. “I know, I know darling,” she said soothingly. “Perhaps a good night sleep will help. Let’s get you out of your make up shall we and find you something to wear in bed.” She had me sit at the vanity whilst she carefully cleaned the makeup off my skin. Then she showed me how to tone and moisturise declaring this to be the most important part of any woman’s beauty regime. Once she had finished, she pulled my hair back into a pony tail and then helped me to undress finding me a simple short nightie to wear into bed. She had turned back the bedclothes and I slipped effortless under the covers and lay there just for a few moments as Amy fussed around the room, tidying this and that before coming over and surprising me by kissing me on the forehead, just like my mother had done when I was a child. “ Goodnight Shagufta. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Amy!” I replied “and thank you.” I said softly. I watched as she walked to the bedroom door and, as she opened it, I saw that Greg was still stood there, waiting patiently in the corridor. Then, as the door closed, I heard a soft click of a key being turned in the lock. Instantly, I was back on my feet running over to the door, my hand on the handle confirming what I suspected. The bedroom door was firmly locked and I was a prisoner in a beautiful gilded cage. Despondently, I sat on the edge of the bed, once again close to tears and I heard myself scream out loud in frustration. Was there to be no escape? Was I truly destined to be some rich man’s sex toy? It was then that my hand felt the manila folder that I had carelessly thrown onto the bed. So, stifling a tear, I picked it up and began to read. The first document was an outline of my new personal history. It seemed that I was still to be 21 years of age and, as real life, had a degree in business studies, this time though from a top Indian university. I was in England on a gap year before starting a post graduate degree in business law. My parents were of mixed race. My father a white business man, my mother a traditional Indian woman and I was an only child. Parents lived in Mumbai where father had an import export business. There was a whole host of details about my early life too. Someone had obviously gone to great lengths to create a whole new history for me, one which would stand up to even the closest scrutiny. Laying that document aside for further study later, I picked up the profile of my benefactor, and with trembling fingers, began to read. Name...... ............ ( this had been left blank ) Age:- 32 Description:- 6’2” tall weighing 180 lbs. Muscular build. Dark hair, blue eyes, swarthy complexion. Marital status:- Single. Ethnic background.:- White English. Education:- Upper Second, Business Management, Cambridge University. ‘Ha! Beat him there’ I thought to myself. Occupation: Entrepreneur. Finances:- Worth an estimated £245 million, mostly in a property empire left to him by his father. I had to read that one three times before it sank in. £245 million. My God. Recent History: Joined the Royal Marines on leaving university, serving 5 years as a Lieutenant in the Second Royal Marine Regiment. Resigned his commission on the death of father to take over running the family property empire. Hobbies and interests:- Motor sport, sailing, cinema, dining in fine restaurants, travel. Sexual orientation:- Bisexual with a strong attraction to transsexual women. Sexual preferences:- Desires to meet a pre operative or post operative transsexual woman of Indian or mixed race background. Expects her to be extremely beautiful and stylishly dressed at all times. Has a minor fetish for lingerie and in particular stockings. Sexually dominant preferring a partner to be compliant and submissive, he is a giver, rather than a receiver. O.M.G.

A Half Hearted Bid for Freedom. The next three weeks were a mixture of pain and pleasure. I was never alone, save for the few hours when I was locked in my room over night. Every move I made, every little thing was scrutinised and criticized. Each morning world start with Greg for an hour of intense physical exercise in the small, purpose built fitness suite. He was a hard task master too, insisting that the exercises he put me through were necessary to tone my body rather than to build muscle. It was here that I was introduced to the comfort of a sports bra after one fateful attempt at running on a treadmill when I nearly knocked myself out as my breasts bounced painfully on my chest. The rest of my days were spent with either Ms Johnson or with Amy and were filled with deportment lessons, hair and beauty lessons, vocal coaching and even dancing lessons. I was given women’s magazines to read, asked to comment on fashion and show business news, you know, who was dating who and would Angeline Jolie finally dump Brad Pitt. It was a week into the program that I had my first shopping trip when Greg drove Amy and myself into town. I was so nervous that Greg, with the easy confidence of a man built like a brick shithouse, had to threaten me with being forcibly removed from the car. Greg shadowed us everywhere, never leaving our side, always hovering nearby with an easy smile which simple said, ‘just try running away Shagufta.’ Amy took me into shop after shop and, after some gentle persuasion, soon had me in the changing rooms trying on outfit after outfit. I even had my breasts measured professionally which was a real shock to the system for it required me to strip naked from the waist up whilst the assistant measured me. She didn’t bat an eyelid! It turned out that I had gone from a 38 DD to a 36 DD thanks to all the exercise I had been getting and needed a whole new set of bra’s and the ones I had been using were getting a little loose on me. By the time we returned home I was forced to apologise for my foolishness for I had had a wonderful time shopping for this outfit and that dress, spending a small fortune in the process. Once I had found my feet however, there was no stopping me and I became a regular visitor to the high street, always, however, accompanied by Greg. I would put on something pretty like my white skirt and a simple white t shirt belted at the waist to help emphasise the size of my breasts and roundness of my hips, or maybe my little red dress that I loved so much and then shop until I dropped. No shoe shop was safe and no dress shop left untried as I built up a stunning designer wardrobe. The initial £5,000 was soon spent to be replaced by a similar amount in my bank account and my wardrobes were soon bulging with my purchases. And as I shopped and as I completed my lessons with growing confidence and expertise, something strange began to happen. At first, my desire to escape was all consuming and oh so frustrating. On one occasion I even tried to run away. I suddenly realise the changing room I was in had two entrances. I was a real spur of the moment thin. I just grabbed my handbag and ran. There was no planning, no thought, just a blind panic as I dashed through the lingerie department of the store I was in desperately looking for the way out. I found myself turning this way and that way looking for the stairs or for an exit that would lead me to my freedom. And as I dashed around one corner I ran straight into Greg, tall, immovable, calm but with somewhat of a relieved look on his face.

“The first and only the first attempt to run away is free Shagufta” he said softly as he took my hand in his in a vice like grip. “Next time I will report this to Ms Johnson and I can promise you that your punishment will be, shall we say, uncomfortable. But as the time passed I began to feel more and more relaxed with the complete woman I was rapidly becoming. Slowly, the thoughts of escape began to dwindle, replaced my thoughts of ’how was I going to wear my hair today’ or ‘which dress shall I wear for dinner’. The criticisms handed out by Ms Johnson, quite severely at first, began to diminish and be replaced with compliments and praise and I felt my self esteem as a woman begin to soar like a hawk gliding on a warm thermal wind. It was exactly 29 days after I had been press-ganged into Ms Johnson’s organisation that she called me into her office where she was sat at a large antique desk dressed in a very pretty “Well Shagufta” she began smiling at me “Time for a progress report. So, tell me, how do you feel now?” I sat down at the counter opposite her and smiled back at this beautiful woman. “I have to admit I hated you to start with Ms Johnson” I started slowly. “I hated the way you forced me into doing this, the changes you made to my body without my consent. But, but......” I stammered finding it difficult to put what I wanted to say into words “... now I’m glad that you did. I simply wouldn’t have it any other way!” I declared, grinning at her. “So, do you think you are ready to meet your sponsor..........?” she asked softly. My hand instantly went up to cover my mouth that had dropped open in surprise. “Oh God!” I whispered. “..........because I do” she grinned. “Besides he has been pestering me night and day to allow the two of you to meet. Perhaps we shouldn’t have sent him that photograph of you” she laughed. One of my tasks, a few days before, was to have some pin up photographs taken. Amy had done my hair and make up for me and had taken some incredible pictures of me. When Ms Johnson saw the result she insisted that she send one to my sponsor. “No, perhaps not,” I giggled “Anyway Shagufta, I have arranged for you to go out to dinner with your mentor on Saturday evening. I will

accompany you, of course, with Greg as my escort.” “Oh God!” I said again, my mind working furiously. That gave me three days to get ready. “Now I would like you to see this as your ‘final examination’, Shagufta, and you will be ‘tested’ by Amy and myself every step of the way. That means choosing an appropriate outfit and lingerie which matches the profile brief I gave you about your mentor. Hair and makeup will be left to you as well but I am sure Amy will be able to help you there if you want her to.” “Yes Ms Johnson. Where will we be going?” “Clanceys” she replied meaning a very upmarket dinner dance club in town “so that will mean a long evening gown or something similar I think.” “Yes Ms Johnson” “Good. Now I have a present for you” she said grinning at me once again. I watched as she opened a small drawer in her desk and pulled out a car key. “Here,” she said as she handed the key to me. “You will find a brand new Mini Cooper outside. Drive carefully, when you go shopping.” I just stood there dumbfounded, not knowing quite what to say and do next. Ms Johnson just grinned. “I think I can trust you not to run away now Shagufta” she said softly, looking at me in the eyes. “Oh!” was all I could say as I blushed from the soles of my feet to the tips of my hair. “You knew!” I whispered. “Of course I did” she replied matter of factly. “It was only natural after being put in your position. I would have done the same. But now I think we have got past that silliness. We have haven’t we?” she asked seriously. “Now I have one last request. I think it is time you stopped calling me Ms Johnson. My first name is Charlotte and I would like you to use it. Or if you like you can call me CJ. Ms Johnson makes me feel so frumpy.” “Yes Ms Johnson, erm, I mean CJ,” I replied, a huge smile appearing on my face. “Good, then be off with you. I will expect you to be ready promptly by 7pm on Saturday.” I turned to leave, the interview over but then, as I was about to leave the office, I suddenly stopped and turned back. “Charlotte?” I began softly, my mind phrasing a question. “Yes, Shagufta.” “You still haven’t told me my Benefactors name.” “Ah yes, of course, how remiss of me,” she replied as she opened her desk drawer again. She pulled out another one of her ubiquitous manila folders and handed it to me. “Here.” I practically ran up to my room and threw myself onto my bed. With trembling fingers and a wildly beating heart I opened the folder. I have to admit that I gasped out aloud when I saw his photograph for the first time. Dressed in a classical dark grey business suit, he was simply gorgeous. Tall, clean shaven, with the chiselled good looks that would not have been out of place on a male model, he looked younger than his 32

years. I just sat there and stared and started trying to imagine myself at standing at his side, holding his hand, kissing this good-looking man. Eventually I put the picture to one side and began to read his resume. His name was Simon Weston. ‘Simon’ I whispered to myself and, thrilled, I read on. A graduate of Cambridge University, he spent five years as an Officer in the Royal Marines. When his father had died he had inherited a vast property portfolio and he had resigned his commission to take over the family business. Astutely, he had sold out to a Middle Eastern company, just before the property crash and was now sat on a rather large personal fortune. He owned a huge house near Brighton and a holiday villa on a beach near Goa in India. He also owned and raced in a sailing team of some sort. He had never been married although he had had several high profile girlfriends in the past, including one rather well known actress. It was then that I discovered a newspaper article about him claiming that the reason he had never married and that he led the life style of a playboy was that he was actually gay. The article was as a result of being spotted in a gay/lesbian/TV/Ts nightclub by some sleezeball of a reporter. I read and re read every detail about his life absorbing every little fact about the man who was responsible for me being where I was. A very small part of me wanted to hate him still but there was nothing I could find to hate. Instead, I sat there day dreaming of the day when I would wake up in bed next to this beautiful man. My thoughts were eventually disturbed by a soft knocking on the door to my room and Amy followed the sound. “So sweetie, I hear the big day is nearly upon us.” “God, yes Amy” I said thrusting his picture at her. “Isn’t he gorgeous?” I declared earnestly, making her laugh. “Yes he is, and rich too, you lucky sod. I have read his profile by the way. Charlotte showed it to me earlier today. So what are you going to wear?” “Oh God” I said suddenly dashing over to my walk in wardrobe and burying myself inside. “What do you think I should wear Amy?” I pleaded as I pulled out this and that dress. “Sorry Shagufta, but I am under strict instructions not to help. You have to decide for yourself.” Accepting Fate It took two days of exhaustive shopping before I finally decided what I was going to wear. No shop remained unvisited, no potential dress left untried. I read and re read Simons profile, looking for inspiration and finally decided that if I wanted to impress him, traditional Indian wear was appropriate. So I bought a Saree. Not just any old Saree though. This Saree was sumptuous, gorgeous beautiful and was smothered in embroidery. It also cost an absolute fortune. I had thought of booking myself into a beauty parlour somewhere. In the end I decided not to as, for some reason, I wanted to show off my new acquired makeup and hair care skills. My first independent trip into town was really exciting. I found it completely liberating not to have a shadow. I just went where I wanted, when I wanted and it was only after I had returned to the house that I remembered that I could easily escaped. The thought had simply never entered my head. So come Saturday afternoon, I retired to the sanctuary of my bedroom and began my preparations. I began with a long soak in the scented waters of a hot bath, luxuriating in the warmth of the water. Amy had relented with one part of the beauty process in that she had waxed my entire body the day before so there was no need to worry about any stubble. Despite this I still spent ages running my hands over my skin looking for any stray hair she may have missed. I washed and conditioned my hair and, after wrapping it up in a towel, slipped into a robe and back into my bedroom.

I began my makeover with my nails, on both hands and feet, which I painted a lovely delicate shade of soft pink. I spent ages on my makeup, twice removing everything and starting again until I finally achieved the look I was after. I paid particular attention to my eyes creating the heavy kohl look that suited me so well, a look which I knew would captivate the heart of any man I cast my gaze upon.

Then I set about drying my hair, taming it into those lovely loose curls that fell so elegantly around my face, shoulders and breasts and, even though I say so myself, it look pretty fantastic by the time I had finished. Despite this I ended up pinning it up in a very elegant up do that had the effect of emphasising my long graceful neck perfectly, especially after I added some long pendant ear rings. It was just after 6 pm when I finished my makeover so I stripped and, after a liberal spray of some of my favourite body mist, I began to dress. The lingerie I had chosen was simply incredible. In purest silk, the bra, panties and suspender belt felt just incredible against my smooth skin. Even the black lace topped stockings I had picked were made of the purest silk and simply caressed my skin as I drew them up over my thighs. Finally I slipped on a pretty matching robe whilst I went into my wardrobe to collect the saree waiting for me there. I had come to love walking about in my lingerie. Every time I walked past a mirror I would catch a glimpse of this beautiful and curvaceous creature and it never failed to thrill me. The saree I had chosen was simply incredible and suited me perfectly even if it wasn’t what you might call a traditional style. Made from black silk, it was smothered in embroidery and had the effect of emphasising every curve I had whilst at the same time being sexily modest. And I loved it. I spent a little time getting it on just right before finishing off my outfit with some appropriate gold Indian jewellery and a liberal splash of my favourite perfume. I was just packing the few items I would need into a little evening bag when there was a soft knock n my bedroom door. I called out in answer, thinking it would be Amy but, to my surprise, it was CJ, looking absolutely scrumptious herself. She too had gone for a lovely pinned up hairstyle that really suited her long blonde hair. Her makeup was perfect and she was wearing a gorgeous long blue gown that simply wrapped itself around her voluptuous figure. She smiled as she walked into my room and saw me standing there nervously.

“Well Shagufta, look at you....” she grinned “You look absolutely ravishing. I can’t say how pleased I am that you chose a saree tonight. And I love your hair and makeup. Simply perfect! Simon is going to love you! An A+ so far I think.” I just beamed with pleasure at her praise. “Thank you CJ. And can I add that I think you look lovely too.” “Thank you Shagufta. I try my best,” she grinned. “Now come and sit down on the bed next to me. I want to talk to you about tonight.” Just as I had been taught, I walked gracefully over to the bed and sat next to Charlotte.

“As I am sure you are aware Shagufta, tonight is extremely important” she began “but I have every confidence that you will make the right impression on your benefactor. However I do have some ground rules for you for this evening. You will be chaperoned this evening by myself and Greg to ensure that neither of you behave inappropriately. You may dance with him and, provided you are discreet, kiss him, should you feel that you would like to do so. Other than that, I expect you to be ladylike at all times. Do not drink too much either. That can only lead to trouble. My advice is that you treat this like a first date, a meeting of two people who are destined to be together in a more permanent way after a suitable period of courtship. Take things slow at first and see how they build. Simon is also being given the same rules and advice by Greg as we speak.” “He’s here?” I squeaked, jumping nervously to my feet. “Yes, he arrived ten minutes ago. Greg has taken him into the office so he can talk to him whilst I came up to get you.” “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God” I said out loud as I began pacing nervously up and down the room. “Shagufta,” added CJ somewhat forcefully “calm down will you.” “But, but, wwwhat if hhe doesn’t like me?” I stammered. “There is absolutely no chance of that sweetie, not looking the way you do now. Come on, let’s go down to the Orangery and I will introduce you to him. Slowly we walked down the stairs and into the conservatory that had been built on the back of the house so it could face the wonderful gardens there. Apprehensively, I found myself pacing up and down, muttering to myself, my shoes echoing delightfully on the tiled floor whilst Charlotte disappeared, leaving me on my own for a moment. It took but a few moments before she reappeared, followed by a handsome man I recognised instantly and who was carrying a huge bouquet of red roses. Ms Johnson just stood to one side before speaking again, allowing him to see me properly for the first time. “Simon,” she began formally “this is Miss Shagufta Hanaphie, Shagufta, may I introduce Simon Weston.” It was amazing. We both just stood there and stared at each other, neither of us able to find the words to express how we were feeling at that moment. I could see he was visibly trembling, his breathing shallow and rapid, his face flushed with nervous excitement. CJ just grinned and huge grin and left us alone whilst we stood there in silence, neither of us knowing quite what to do next. I found myself blushing furiously as his eyes feasted on me, never leaving my face as he took in every last detail and shyly, I found myself looking at the floor.

“Aagherm” he coughed eventually, clearing his throat. His voice was deep and husky and cracked with emotion. “Yyyoou are incredible,” he stammered softly. “Thank you Simon,” I replied softly. “Here, these are for you,” he said as he held out the roses. “My God, you are stunning,” he stammered again. “The flowers are beautiful Simon, thank you again.” “It’s the least I could do but they pale into insignificance next to you, truthfully Shagufta. You are astonishing.” “I hope you are not going to be like this all evening Simon. All these compliments might go to my head,” I said finding my voice and smiling my broadest smile at him. “I’m not sure I will be able to help myself Shagufta. I have been imagining what you might look like in person from the pictures you sent me, which, by the way, put my blood pressure through the roof. I knew you would be pretty but I have to admit that I was not prepared for just how fabulous you look. You don’t know just what it means to me to be able to meet someone exactly like you.” “Oh I have a pretty fair idea Simon,” I grinned as I looked at him again. He had obviously taken great care with his appearance. He was freshly shaved and smelled of expensive cologne, his short black hair having been recently trimmed. Dressed in a worsted single breasted suit, crisp white shirt and a simple dark red, his clothes disguised his body somewhat but there was no denying his broad shoulders and slim waist line. Even his shoes were highly polished speaking volumes about the lengths he had gone to to look good. It was then that he surprised me, by taking me gently by then hand and indicating I should sit down on one of the chairs in the orangery, my roses placed neatly on my lap. Simon sat in a chair next to me and looked at me with an expression of concern. “Look Shagufta, there is something I want to get off my chest before we go any further with this. I want you to know that I very nearly cancelled my contract with Charlotte when she told me about how she had coerced you into being here. I really didn’t approve of her tactics at all. But when I was told what they had done to you, it had already happened so I was too late to do anything.” “I’m glad that you didn’t Simon” I said shyly, unable to look him in the eye “Glad that I didn’t what?” “Cancel the contract. Oh I know what Ms Johnson did to me was a little heavy handed but it needed to be to convince me that what she was doing was right for me.” “And for me” he grinned “but you have my word that you will, never again, be forced to do something without your consent.” “Thank you for that Simon” I replied shyly and impulsively I reached over to him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Suddenly there was a soft cough at the door and I saw Charlotte re enter the room with a broad smile on her face, followed by Greg who was also dressed in a smart lounge suit. “It’s time we made a move, Simon, Shagufta. Our table is reserved for 8 pm.” I smiled as Simon jumped to his feet and held out his hand for me to take so that he could help me to my feet. After quick dash into the kitchen to put my roses into water, he simple escorted me to the car The evening was a delight. Clancey’s nightclub was the sort of place where intimate couples could share an intimate evening and dance the night away. I had expected that Simon and I would be seated with Charlotte and Greg but

how wrong was I. Simon and I had a table for two all to ourselves whilst they sat in a completely different part of the club albeit with a good view of our table. The plan was obviously to leave the two of us on our own so we could get to know each other, like any other couple on their first date. Simon and I just talked and talked and talked, getting to know each other better, finding out what our likes and dislikes were. We ate delicious food and drank equally delicious wine oblivious to the rest of the world as it just revolved around us. I found Simon to be a modest man, reluctant to talk about his success in business, preferring instead to describe his sporting ambitions. He described his love of motor racing and in particular, his passion for sailing and promised one day soon to take me out on his ‘little boat’ as he liked to call it. I for my part told him of how I had come to be in the ‘programme’ and how much fun I was having at his expense, once I had overcome my bitterness and resentment. And then a band had started to play soft romantic music and soon couples were swaying together on the dance floor. Simon just stood and held out his hand and I had no choice but to follow him. Soon I was in his arms as we moved slowly together in time to the music, our bodies pressed firmly against each other. I delighted in the sensation of my small hand in his, I revelled in the feeling of my breasts pressed against his muscular chest, I adored the smell of his cologne as I nestled my head on his shoulder. The lights were low and I was feeling so wanted, so loved so that when he gently lifted my chin to look at him I had no doubt in my mind that I wanted him to kiss me. And kiss me he did, a soft, slow, lingering kiss of a man who truly desired the woman he was dancing with and I returned it with equal passion, my soft painted lips brushing his own, tasting his flesh. I knew then that this was a man I was going to fall in love with. And as we danced, I saw out of the corner of my eye that Charlotte had taken to the dance floor with Greg, gasping in amazement as I saw how he looked at her. This wasn’t an employer/employee thing at all, rather a man who cared very deeply for the woman he was dancing with and I was suddenly amazed that I have never seen this side of their relationship before. It was a little after 11 pm when Simon suggested we have a coffee. He took me back to our table where he held my chair for me as I gracefully tucked my dress under my legs so I could sit. Coffee ordered Simon once again looked at me with that combination of amazement and lust. “Shagufta, I just have to say it again. You are utterly beautiful” he whispered as he took my hand across the table. I looked down at my lap shyly as I answered him, knowing I was blushing from his compliment. “Bumpah is going to adaore you too!” “Bumpah?” “Mmm, my pet name for my Grandma. When I couldn’t say grandma as a little child, that’s what I called her,” he grinned. “Anyway Bumpah is another reason why I so wanted to meet someone like you, someone with an Indian background as she is from Calcutta herself. She has been on at me to find a suitable ‘wife’ for years so I thought, why not someone like you! Tell me about your family Shagufta,” he said softly but as he saw the hurt expression flood my face he added, “you don’t have too, if you don’t want to.” “I’d rather not Simon, if you don’t mind. It is a very painful subject for me.” I said, blushing and looking at the floor. “So” said Simon obviously wanting to change the subject “did you like the Mini Cooper? I thought it might be right up your style.” “You sent that?” I asked incredulously? “Yes, everything you get I have to pay for. I just thought you could do with some transport.”

“Well, I love it!” I replied enthusiastically. “It goes like a little rocket?” “Mm they are a little nippy aren’t they? I have one myself for town driving.” It was just at that moment that Charlotte and Greg came over to the table. Charlotte was holding Greg’s arm and they looked so good together that I had to smile. It was CJ who spoke though, making it absolutely clear who was in charge. “Shagufta, Simon, I have a slight headache” she began, “so Greg is going to take me home. Simon, do you have your car outside as you were requested to do?” “Yes Ms Johnson,” he replied meekly. “Good, then I want you to have Shagufta home by 1am, no later. Is that clear?” She sounded like my father when she spoke like that and I knew that she intended to be obeyed. “Yes Ms Johnson” Simon replied respectfully once again. “And I hope I don’t have to remind either of you about the rules. Do I?” “No” we replied together like two naughty school children. She grinned at that. We both watched as they left together and then turned back to each other. “God. That woman makes me feel like I am sixteen again and I am going out with her fourteen year old daughter.” I howled!! However, it was nice to be out from under their watchful eyes. We both began to relax a little. We danced some more, we kissed some more, oh and did I say we kissed some more? It was simply wonderful to be treated like the woman I was, not as some freak of nature, some sexual object to be made fun of and I was beginning to dread the evening ending. God, I wanted this man. I wanted him so badly that, for the first time in weeks, I felt my flesh becoming aroused, thankfully, well constrained by the gaff I was wearing under my panties. And I knew he felt the same way too, for as we danced I could feel his arousal, pressing firmly against my thigh as I snuggled my body hard against his. “Look Shagufta” he coughed, as he broke away from me, looking a little embarrassed. “I think I ought to get you home before I do something I might regret.” I looked at him coyishly, my hands seductively behind my back making my breasts thrust forward even more. Leaning into him once again, I whispered in his ear. “I wouldn’t regret anything you did to me Simon.” I said in a very girlish voice. He just groaned in frustration. Reluctantly, we left the club and, holding hands, Simon walked me to his car, a stunningly beautiful Aston Martin. I just rested my head on his shoulder as he slowly drove us back to the house where, just before 1 pm, he pulled up and parked outside the grand front door. Slipping off his seat belt, he turned and looked at me. “Thank you Shagufta, thank you for a wonderful evening.” I just leant forward and kissed him deeply on the lips in reply, relishing the way his tongue danced slowly with my own as we explored each other. And as we kissed, I felt his hand move onto my waist, his fingers caressing the silk of my Saree. Slowly I moved my own hand over his and I felt him stiffen, thinking that he had violated some boundary,

or had annoyed me in some way. I just took his hand and lead it to my breast instead before allowing my hand to slip to his thigh. God, I wanted him so much and was beginning to hate Charlotte for making us wait. Slowly Simon ended our kiss, before leaping out of his side of the car. I waited where I was whilst he sprinted around to my side so he could open the door and help me out of the bucket seats. Arm in arm we then walked over to the front door, where, once again, I threw my arms around his neck for one last goodnight kiss. It was all so innocent, so passionate, so tantalisingly frustrating when just a few metres away was a big warm bed, just waiting for the two of us. We just held each other for a few moments looking at each other’s faces, grinning, not having to put into words how we felt at that moment. “Oh” he said suddenly as he pulled my arms away from him and ran back to the car. “I’ve got something for you.” I watched as he grabbed something form the glove compartment of the car and ran back over to where I was waiting for him. “Here” he said as he handed me a top of the range Iphone. “All my numbers are pre programmed so you can call me anytime. “Anytime?” I asked mischievously. “Anytime you like, my darling. Now you had better get inside, or we will both be ‘grounded’ for you being late,” he grinned. The house was dark when I entered the main hallway. My head was simply buzzing and my heart pounding with lust and excitement. He had called me darling! Girlishly I skipped up the stairs and toward Ms Johnson’s rooms. I didn’t care that this part of the house was normally out of bounds to me. I just had to talk to her, to tell her how excited I was, to thank her for making me the woman that this wonderful man could fall in love with. Her bedroom door was slightly open, a soft light coming from within and I could hear voices, voices that clearly indicated what was going on inside. I couldn’t help myself. I was like a rabbit caught in the glare of a headlight, instantly hypnotised, insistently drawn to the noise. Silently, I walked unobserved towards the door, mesmerized by what I might see only to have my hand leap into my mouth to stop myself from gasping out loud. Greg was on his knees on the bed, his naked body glistening with sweat. Charlotte was naked too, her lithe, full breasted body kneeling deliciously before her lover, her pert round bottom grinding passionately into his groin as she reached back and caressed his short black hair with her hands . I

watched, totally captivated, as Greg hips beat a steady rhythm as he fucked Charlotte from behind, his eyes closed, his hands reaching around to play with her breasts as they bounced on her chest in time to his movements. And then I saw something that literally made my heart stop. Without missing a beat, I watched as Greg’s hand moved lower and lower to grasp the one thing I had never imagined I would see. For Charlotte was just like me! She had breasts, she hand long beautiful golden blonde hair and she had a penis. I watched as Charlotte let go of Greg’s head and slowly began to bend her head forward until her hands were resting on the bed. Greg paused for a moment to adjust his position and then reached around her body to grasp her flesh as he continued to pummel her from behind. I saw her mouth open and she let out a moan that could only indicate that she was close to reaching her peak as her breasts swung delightfully under her chest. Faster and faster he thrust now as she kept still, allowing him to do all the work as she revelled in the sensations washing over her, her little cock bouncing in time, beating a rhythm like a conductors baton, to every push of his hips. And then her whole body was convulsing as she came. She threw her head back again and shrieked in pleasure as her orgasm washed through her body, tiny spurts of cum erupting from her hard erect penis. And, as she ground her body down, her lover reached his peak too, his hips pushing her down onto bed as he came again and again and again, depositing his seed deep within her bowels. Unable to tear myself away, I watched as Charlotte’s body slowly relaxed and to my horror she opened her eyes only to look straight at me as I stared at her. She didn’t scream, she didn’t shout, she didn’t freak. All she did was look at me and smile. It was then that I fled. Moments later, I was in my room, throwing myself onto my bed in frustration and anger, tears welling up in my eyes. How could she? All I wanted to do was to run away, to go and find Simon, to hold him, to kiss him, to make love to... Then there was a soft knock on my bedroom door and without asking permission Charlotte let herself onto my room dressed only in a pretty robe, her hair tousled and an unmistakeable flush on her face from her love making. Slowly she came over to me and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to smooth away a loose lock of hair from my face in a very motherly way. “I’m sorry Shagufta” she began softly.”You shouldn’t have seen that.” “No, I shouldn’t,” I replied bitterly, my face buried in a pillow. “Anyway, now you know my little secret too.” “But it is so unfucking fair” I moaned as I twisted to face her on the bed. “You get to make love to Greg and Simon didn’t even make a second date with me. Hhhee hhates me!” “Oh stop being such a big girl’s blouse Shagufta” she grinned “he adores you. He told me so before Greg and I left. He didn’t make a second date with you because I told him not to, not yet anyway.” “Why?” I demanded as I sat bolt upright. “Because honey worked for is all the more sweeter. You need to take things slow, get to know each other a little before you take things to the next level. Because you need to develop a public persona so Simon can introduce you to the world as his girlfriend. It would look really strange if you just moved in with him, now wouldn’t it.” “But but....... I want him sooooo much, CJ.” “I know darling. Look,” she said suddenly “I have just had a wicked idea. Did Simon give you the Iphone?”

“Yes,” “And did he tell you that it is locked to a similar phone in his possession so that you could exchange private messages and photos securely.” “No he didn’t tell me that.” “Right, off with that saree. Let’s send him a raunchy picture and see what happens.” Amazed I stood and quickly began to get undressed until I was down to just my lingerie. “That too” she said indicating my lingerie, as she began rummaging in one of my drawers, looking for something for me to wear. “Ah perfect” she said as she pulled out a really sexy baby doll that I had bought on a previous shopping trip. “Here put this on.” I did as I was asked and slipped into the incredibly sexy garment and once dressed, Charlotte came to me and began to unpin my hair, allowing it to fall loosely around my shoulders. Quickly she roughed it up giving me a shaggy, sexy, unkempt look and then indicated that I should stand over by a wall as she grabbed the iphone and loaded up the camera. “Right then Shagufta, strike a pose” she ordered as she lifted up the phone and stared at the view screen. Quickly I pushed out my hip and bent one leg in a very sexy way as I lifted one had to run it through my long tousled hair and I heard the camera shutter sound as Charlotte took a snap. “Perfect” she declared as she handed me the phone and showed me the picture. “Send that to Simon and see what happens. And, I will see you in the morning.” I did as she suggested, along with a private message to Simon. I didn’t have to wait long for a reply either. Ten minutes later he sent me a text which simply read. ’That’s not playing fair darling. Put on something pretty and I will pick you up at 11am on Saturday. Now look at my picture and see what you have done to me!’ Just like my text, he too had attached a picture and I have to admit I gasped out loud when I saw it, my hand flying to cover my open mouth. He had stripped naked and was knelt back on his legs on his bed. His body was magnificent, hard and muscular and his cock, his wonderful cock stood hard and proud before him as he too struck a pose for his camera. I slept fitfully that night, my dreams full of Simon and his beautiful body. And when I finally awoke, it was to discover that some time in the night, just like I had as a twelve year old boy going through puberty, I had had a wet dream, my cum soaking into the sheets beneath me.

A Weekend to Remember It was shortly after I had awoken that Amy came bustling into my bedroom and threw back the curtains flooding the room with glorious sunshine that heralded a beautiful summers day. “Come on sleepy head. CJ tells me Simon will be here to pick you up at eleven. Oh and she has also told me to tell you to pack a case too. She would have told you herself but she has to go up to London today.” I just groaned and pulled the covers over my head whilst Amy laughed at me. She just came over to me and pulled the duvet off the bed leaving me lying there dressed only in the baby doll that I had put on for Simon’s picture the night before. “So, Shagufta, you know about Charlotte’s little secret then” she continued as she bustled around the room. “Wwhat!” I replied. “you know?” “Of course,” she said matter of factly. “She and Greg have had an ‘understanding’ for the past couple of years now. He loves her and she uses him for sex” she giggled. “You can hardly work here and not notice something like that. Now come on, it’s already after nine and you need time to get ready.” “What” I screeched as I sat bolt upright on my bed. I dashed for the bathroom and. After pulling down my panties, I sat on the loo to relieve myself. Strange how easy it had become to adopt that practice! “Did Simon say anything about what we are doing today?” I called from the bathroom. “He said something about going down to Brighton I think” Amy called. “Brighton?” I shouted back. “Yup, Brighton. Not sure why though so perhaps you had better pack for all eventualities. It took me an hour to shower, wash and dry my hair and to put on my face and by just after 10 am I was dressed casually in a lovely blue smock top and a pair of designer jeans. My hair was loose around my shoulders and, even though I say so myself, looked lovely, my make up perfect for a pretty Indian woman. Amy had produced a suitcase from somewhere and was rifling through my wardrobes looking for suitable items to pack. Lingerie, shoes, a pretty dress, everything a girl might need for a stopover somewhere. I had to ask. “Amy, why the case?” “Here,” she said fishing into her trouser pocked and producing a note. “CJ left this for you.” Quickly I opened the letter and scanned the note written in a flower and decidedly feminine hand. It read My Darling Shagufta, I am sorry not to be there for you this morning but I have urgent business in London. Simon phoned me this morning and he was ecstatic to say the least. In fact I think he is already more than a little in love with you. I had intended making you wait a little longer but Simon has persuaded me that you are ready to choose for yourself when to take your relationship to the next level and judging by the comments you made last night, I would agree with him. Consequently, you will spend the night at Simon’s home in Brighton. I will leave it up to you to decide in which bed you sleep. CJ.

PS Take a swimming costume. If you haven’t got one yet, borrow one from Amy.

I read the note twice and then unpacked the case that Amy had filled refilling in with clothes and lingerie of my choice this time. Out went the conservative and in went the downright sexy. Amy just grinned as she saw the items I was packing knowing full well what I intended to do. She did however insist I put in at least one skirt that was below the knee and a blouse that could only be described as modest. As it happened, I hadn’t got a swimming costume so Amy disappeared for a few moments before reappearing with a number of different items. She first of all handed me a tiny flesh like garments that looked more like a thong than anything else. I recognised it straight away as a modified version of my sex cache. “If you wear that under your costume, you will prevent any embarrassing bulges I think.” said Amy seriously. “Now I have a choice of costumes” she continued as she held up each one in turn. “There is this modest two piece; this all in one swim suit or this bikini. Which do you think?” I just grabbed them all and threw them into my case. “I think you might need a bigger case Shagufta” she said laughing at me “you are turning into a real clothes horse.” 10.50 am found me pacing up and down in the main living room of the house, my suitcase in the hall way, bulging at the seams. I was a nervous wreck, waiting for Simon to arrive. Amy, who was sat on the large sofa, reading a magazine, just peered over the top of the page every now and then to give me what could only be described as a pitying look. Then just moments before the grandfather clock struck 11 am, the unmistakeable sound of a car on gravel found its way through the open window. I remember screeching a little in girlish pleasure as I looked through the window to see his gorgeous Aston Martin pull up outside. There was no decorum, no ladylike behaviour, as I dashed outside and threw myself into his arms as he clambered out of the driver’s seat. Simon just grinned as he kissed me deeply on the mouth, lifting me bodily off the ground as he did so, swinging me round in the air. “Hello gorgeous” he said as he untangled me from his neck, putting me down slowly onto the ground. “Hello yourself,” I said softly as I kissed him lightly again. “Are you ready darling?” he asked, looking at me. “Mm,” I replied, “my case is in the hallway. Can you get it for me whilst I say goodbye to Amy.” Simon followed me inside and bent down to pick up the suitcase waiting for him there. “Fuc.... I mean my God!” he swore as he was taken my surprise by the weight he had to lift “What the hell have you got in here? We’re only going to be away overnight!” I looked at him, a feigned innocent look on my face. “I wasn’t sure what you had in mind for the next twenty four hours so I sort of packed everything” I replied in my little school girl voice, making him grin broadly. The drive down to Brighton was pleasant, if not a little hot and stuffy, despite the air conditioning in the car. Simon and I just chatted away as if we had known each other for ever. I was amazed at just how comfortable and relaxed I was around him. There was nothing hidden between us, no pretence, nothing concealed, just an opportunity to get to know each other a whole lot better. And as I sat in the bucket leather seat of the passenger side of the car, I quizzed him a little about his plans. “Well” he began “I thought we could have a quiet day at the house today. You know, get to know each other a little, spend some time together, Shagufta. Then tomorrow, well, that’s up to you. Have you ever been sailing before?”

“Sailing? No, never,” I said somewhat astonished at the suggestion. “The closest I have ever got to sailing is the cross channel ferry from Dover.” I giggled. “Don’t you have a racing yacht or something?” “Yes but that would be far too big for me to handle on my own. I keep a small yacht in the marina just for fun though and I thought you might like to spend a few hours out on the water, if the weather is OK.” “That sounds like fun Simon, “I replied softly, not knowing whether I meant that or not. Sailing! That was way outside my comfort zone. By the time we got to the outskirts of Brighton, I was feeling decidedly s cky. The thermometer in the car read 34 C and I could feel the heat of the sun through the glass windows. Simon drove us through the city, out the other side and back into the countryside a mile or two inland from the sea and we were was soon turning into narrow driveway. The road turned this way and that was for about half a mile, through an avenue of mature beech trees before opening out again in front of the most incredible house. “Oh Simon!” I whispered in awe “it’s beautiful”. The house was a huge stone built barn conversion perched on a hill overlooking the sea. To one end was an enormous window, presumably the main living space whilst to the other was what looked like a modern extension

“The main part of the barn is Grade 2 listed and was built in 1618” Simon explained with pride in his voice. “but I am responsible for the conversion” he said as he stopped the car outside on the gravel driveway.”Come on” he continued with boyish enthusiasm “I’ll show you round.” He helped me out of the car, the heat of the day hitting me like a furnace as he opened the car door. Quickly he grabbed my suitcase from the boot before leading me to the front door, dropping the case onto the floor in the grand hallway before grabbing me and pulling me to him. Giggling, I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on the lips. And like the evening before, a wonderful tingle flooded my body, thrilling me to the core. “Welcome home Shagufta,” he said softly as he broke his kiss, his eyes never leaving mine. “What?” I said incredulously. “I suppose that was a little presumptuous of me” he grinned “perhaps I should have said welcome to the home I hope one day you will share with me. Now come on, let me show you round.”

He grabbed me by the hand and led me down into the main living room, causing me to gasp out loud. It was incredible, its huge picture windows overlooking the distant sea and countryside with an uninterrupted view. And, as I stared at in awe, Simon just came up and put his arms around my waist from behind and pulled me into his body, his lips nuzzling delightfully on my neck. I reached back and stroked his face with my hand, feeling the light rasp of his facial hair with my fingers and purred lightly with the sensations I was feeling. We wandered hand in hand around the ground floor, into the huge open plan kitchen, his little study, the grand dining room, his playroom, complete with full sized snooker table and home cinema and then into the extension where once again I gasped in surprise. For the extension housed an incredible indoor swimming pool and hot tub that just looked so inviting. “Hey, how about a swim Shagufta? You do swim, don’t you?” “Yes” I laughed, but my expression said everything. “But, if you don’t want to .......” he said with concern in his voice. “No, it’s not that Simon. It’s just that.....well.... I have never worn a swimsuit before.” I mumbled as I once again bit my bottom lip nervously. “Well I think you will look incredible in a swimsuit. Please Shagufta; I could really use a swim right now.” “Well” I said doubtfully. “Please,” he pleaded again. “Why don’t you show me where I can get changed?” I asked, relenting, unable to refuse him. Once again he grabbed me by the hand and this time, carrying my case, led me up a beautiful set of solid oak stairs into the bedroom area of the barn. Throwing open a door he led me into a room that was obviously set up as a guest bedroom. It was a lovely room with a huge king sized bed over which there was a gorgeous white lace canopy. “This is you” he said softly as he threw my case on the bed and in doing so missing the fleeting look of disappointment that swept across my face. “There are fresh towels in the bathroom through there and I will see you in the pool room when you are ready,” he grinned and with that he left me, closing the bedroom door behind me. I have to admit I sighed a little as I began to unfasten my case on the bed. Rummaging through the clothes I had packed, I soon found the swimming costumes that Amy had provided and laid them into the bed. Quickly I stripped and began by putting on the sex cache, pleased to see that there was little or no tell tale bulge left when I had it securely in place. Whilst it was quite uncomfortable to wear, I so much wanted to look entirely feminine that I was quite prepared to put up with it. I tried on the conservative two piece first, giggling at how frumpy in made me feel. The second, a one piece, simply didn’t fit. The bikini however, was different matter all together and even I had to admit I look sensational in it. For the first time I said a silent prayer to Greg for all those workouts he had made me endure for my body looked toned and oh so sexy and I found myself skipping around the room gleefully, my breasts bouncing delightfully in the cups of the bra.Just to be on the safe side, I slipped my feet into the only pair of suitable shoes I had brought with me, grabbed a towel and made my way back down towards the pool. Simon was already in the pool when I made my entrance. He just made a low whistle as I made a show of walking down the side of the pool towards him, carefully placing my towel on a chair in a way that gave him a very good view of my pert little bottom.

Without saying a word, I slipped off my shoes and slowly walked down the stairs and into the pool itself. The water was deliciously cool on my skin and as I began a steady breaststroke down to the other end of the pool there was a sudden huge splash as Simon invaded the water next to me, causing me to shriek playfully as spray covered my head and face. I watched for a moment, grinning, as he showed off in the water, his powerful body beating up and down the pool in a fast crawl, his confidence in the water obvious as he swam. All of a sudden, he ducked under the surface, only to reappear in front of me, water streaming down his face as he grabbed me, once again causing me to shriek again in a very girlish way. I grabbed him round the neck as he playfully dragged me to the deep end, delighting in the sensation of his muscles moving against my soft body. We played like that in the water for some time. I would splash him and he splashed me back, not caring if my hair got wet. It was so much fun! It was then that Simon suggested we tried the tub next to the pool and he stared at me as I slowly climbed out of the pool, swinging my hips and bottom in a most feminine way, only to walk slowly into the warmer water of the hot tub. Grinning I watched as Simon hauled himself effortless out of the pool at the deep end and moments later he had joined me in the hot water. This time it was my turn to grab him. I came to him as he pulled me tight into his body, his lips reaching for my neck, his lips caressing my skin. Just for a moment I looked at him and then moving forward I kissed him this time, slowly, tenderly, lovingly on the lips, my soft tongue invading his mouth as I did so. And all the time my hands were on his body, relishing the feel of his hard taught muscles beneath my finger tips. He too began to explore my body, his hands reaching for my breasts that were cradled in the cups of my bikini bra. Suddenly the atmosphere changed, both of us realising how sexually charged the moment was becoming. Somehow my legs had straddled his thighs and I could clearly feel his arousal inside his swimming trunks, an arousal I knew I would have matched had I not been wearing my sex cache beneath my swimsuit. God how I wanted him to take me, to

make love to me right there in the pool. Slowly I moved my hand between us, reaching for him, feeling him through the material of his trunks and I heard him groan out loud as he grabbed me and pulled my hand up to his lips so he could kiss them. “No Shagufta,” he whispered softly. “Not like this darling, not yet.” I looked away, unable to hide my disappointment, my frustration. All Simon did was to pull my chin so I was once again looking at him. His eyes were soft and tender yet still held my gaze. “It’s just that I had everything planned out in my mind. A swim, I cook you a romantic dinner, we talk, we get to know each other. I really want our first time alone together to be special. Can you see that?” “I suppose” I pouted, secretly thrilled at what he was saying. “And, another thing. I know you must feel an obligation to me. After all I am paying for all of this....” “What?” I interrupted. “I , I, I” he stammered “ I don’t want you to feel that way. I don’t want you to think that just because I am paying that you have to have.........” “Now you look here Simon Weston,” I said interrupting him, anger flaring up in me “if you think I feel any obligation to you then think again. In the beginning I was forced into this against my will, given these,” indicating my breasts “and made to live my life as a woman. But there is nothing that would force me to sell my body to the highest bidder. I would rather live rough on the streets. No! I am here, with you, because I want to be.” By then I was nearly in tears and Simon just grabbed me and pulled me to him in a fierce hug. “I’m sorry Shagufta, so sorry to have put you through this. But I am glad you are here too,” he said simply “and what I want, more than anything, is to convince you that this is where you want to stay, with me. But only if you want to, really want to. Now, why don’t you forget what I have just said and go and make yourself look even more impossibly beautiful whilst I rustle up something to eat and we will take it from there.” I just smiled my most beautiful enigmatic smile. True Love Is a Many Splendid Thing. A few minutes later, my big white fluffy towel wrapped around my breasts like a sarong, I found myself back in the room Simon had put me in, desperately trying to decide what I should wear for him that evening. Oh I knew he loved to see a woman in a saree, and I had brought a really pretty one with me. On the other hand, he also liked sexy western clothing too. Unable to decide, I jumped into the shower instead and washed the chlorine out of my hair. It took me just under an hour to do my hair and makeup. My hair I left loose in soft curls around my face. My makeup was understated with just the right amount of mascara and eyeliner to give me the wide eyed innocent look I was after. Then it was back to my suitcase. There was only one choice of lingerie for me, a soft pink three piece set of bra, panties and suspender belt to which I attached a new pair of sheer black stockings. The combination of pink and black was simply perfect, innocent, feminine and oh so wickedly sexy, all at the same time. In the end I decided on wearing my saree as I knew that was what he loved the most and I was desperate to have him love the way I looked for him. I was getting so practiced at putting on a saree that it now only took moments before I was fully dressed and stood in front of the large mirror that I had discovered on the inside of a wardrobe door. I loved what I saw, a young, beautiful olive skinned beauty, ready to lose her virginity to the man she was readily falling in love with. And, I was so happy!

I spritzed on a little perfume and then went back down the stairs and into the kitchen where I guessed Simon would be. He was stood at the counter busily chopping vegetables when I entered and he was so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn’t hear me come in. So, I struck a pose and gave a little cough to attract his attention. His face was a picture as he looked up and he actually dropped the knife he was holding as he stared at me in awe. “Oh, fucking hell Shagufta” he said softly as he strode towards me “you are not playing fair darling,” he continued as he came and stood right before me. “I am not sure what you mean Simon,” I said innocently, my hands demurely behind my back. “God, look at you. You are my wildest fantasy come to life, that’s all, and I am going to have trouble keeping my hands off you.” “Well don’t” I shrieked as I put my arm around his neck for a kiss and then pouted disappointingly as he pulled my arms from him. “Down girl,” he growled playfully. “I have dinner to finish.” “Can I do anything?” I asked. “Set the table of you like. I have put out everything we will need." Twenty minutes later, we were sat at a small table out on a balcony overlooking the bay view. The evening was still very warm and, as we ate, we watched the sun begin to set, the last orange rays, bathing us in romantic light. Candles on the table flickered, making Simon’s eyes sparkle and dance in the light and I found myself staring at this wonderful man, wondering just when the fantasy would fall apart. “So come on Shagufta,” he urged softly as we sat there. “How about you tell me about yourself? When did you realise that you wanted to be a girl? I want to know everything about you.” “Well I suppose I have always really known but growing up in an Asian community makes being a transsexual even harder than for a white person I suppose. It was only after I had gone off to Uni that I really had the opportunity to explore my feminine persona. In the three years I was there I went from being a badly dressed transvestite to someone who knew that one day he would have to face his family and tell them all he was really a woman. I just never expected it to happen in the way that it did.” “Are you glad that it did Shagufta? Are you glad that Ms Johnson sent those pictures to your father?” “No!” I said firmly. “I never wanted to alienate my family, especially my mother. But I suppose my father would never have accepted the changes I wanted to make in my life, no matter how he had found out. I do miss my mum though. Can I ask you a question now?” I said softly as I finished my salad and laid my knife and fork to one side. “Of course,” he replied. “Why? Why a girl like me?” I asked unable to hide the blush that I felt suffusing my cheeks. “You want an honest answer?”

“Yes” I replied plainly. “ Well, the honest answer is that, all my life I have had fantasies about meeting someone like you. I have constantly tried to deny the way I felt by dating every beautiful woman I could and whilst I enjoyed some of these relationships, there was always something missing for me. And then, in a moment of madness, I went to that nightclub and got my name in the paper and when she read the paper, Bumpah, I mean my grandmother, had a mild heart attack. I felt so guilty that I vowed to do something about the situation in a way that would satisfy my needs without embarrassing anyone. At first when I approached Charlotte I thought her to be some sort of high class madam, someone who would, in a very discreet way, provided me with the occasional escort of the TS variety. How wrong was I! She convinced me to invest in her program and to allow her to find someone who could be a more permanent solution to my problem. I have to admit that I was very sceptical at first. It was then that, nearly three months ago, she showed me a photograph and my world was turned upside down. The picture was of you, all dressed up at a party and I simply couldn’t imagine anyone more perfect. The last three months have just been purgatory for me, having to wait until Charlotte said you were ready for me to meet you. So perhaps that explains why I was so nervous when we met for the first time. And when we did meet, you just took my breath away. Oh I knew you would be beautiful but you turned out to be so much more, intelligent, funny and such good company that I knew I had to have you, to possess you, to make you fall in love with me.” And as I listened, I knew he had succeeded. I knew that this was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I just leant forwards and, with my small slender fingers cupped his face and drew him to me in a slow lingering kiss, a kiss which simply told him exactly how I felt. And then I stood and took him by the hand, leading him to the stairs that led up to the bedroom and this time he made no protest at all. Just for a few moments we stood toe to toe, just studying each other’s face before Simon made a quick dash for his bathroom. I used the time touching up my lipstick and spraying on a little perfume whilst at the same time listening to the sounds of a man using the toilet and having a very quick wash. When he reappeared just a few moments later, he had removed his shirt and all he was wearing was a short black robe that barely covered him. He came to me again and kissed me and as he did so I felt his fumbling hands begin to pull at my saree. “Here” I whispered, “let me show you.” I helped him unravel the saree and showed him how to pull out the folds from the underskirt. I turned my back so he could unbutton the blouse and as he did so I felt him kiss the bare flesh of my neck causing me to shiver delightfully. And then he knelt before me, pulling away my petticoat so that I was now just dressed in my sheer black lingerie. Mischievously, I pushed him down onto the bed and stood before him in my sumptuous lingerie. Slowly I tossed my head back allowing my hair to run wild and free over my shoulders in a very sexy way as I did a slow pirouette for him, displaying my wanton body. This was more than he could bear for I felt him sit up behind me and grab me from behind, pulling me hard against his body. All I could do was moan and purr gently as his lips found the sensitive spot on my neck, as his hands slowly pulled down the cups of my bra to release my glorious breasts into his touch. I just closed my eyes and let all these wonderful sensations wash over me as Simon gently caressed my body. Wriggling my little bottom in his face I bend forward and began to pull down my panties, helped, of course, by Simon. Now I was dressed only in my stockings and bra and Simon just pulled me down onto the bed, still cradling me from behind, his hands reaching around my body for my breasts and for my sex. And as he grasped me, I could feel how his hand was trembling with excitement as he slowly began to stimulate me and tease me with his fingers. I gasped slightly as I felt myself begin to respond, blood suffusing my flesh, causing it to swell and thicken.

It was almost more than I could bear as he kissed me from behind and played with my little cock and my breasts all at the same time. It was almost as if I was on sensory overload and I knew I was already close to my peak. All I could do was to push him away, push him down onto the bed and to clamber over him and onto him. I knelt between his legs and fumbled for the tie on his robe, smiling appreciatively as I pulled the satin garment from his shoulders leaving him completely naked.. His cock, his lovely big hard cock, was already fully erect, hard and expectant, resting against the flesh of his stomach, as I pulled down his underpants. I smiled and licked my lips making them glisten slight as I moved my head down. Slowly I tickled him with my tongue, licking the inside of his thighs, working my way towards my prize but studiously avoiding all contact. I began to work my way further upwards, teasing his muscular stomach causing him to flinch in ecstatic pain. I stopped at his chest and, in turn, took each of his tiny nipples into my mouth. I worked my lips up his throat and onto his mouth where I kissed him deeply, our tongues dancing a sensuous tango, as his hand combed deliciously through my thick hair. And then, without any hesitation, I twisted out of his grip and in a single movement engulfed his cock with my warm velvety mouth. Simon just let out a huge groan and a gasp as I began to slowly suck him in and out, my tongue lapping at the crown, tasting the first few drops of sweet pre-cum oozing from its single eye. Oh how I loved sucking his cock, listening to the appreciative sounds coming from my love ,as my long hair tickled his stomach. Now it was Simon’s turn to stop me, knowing that, he too, was so close to exploding. He pushed me back down onto the edge of the bed and, if I had any doubts about why he wanted a woman like me, they were dispelled as he brought his lips to my cock, licking and lapping and sucking at my flesh. I found myself writhing, holding my own beautiful breast as he sucked me deep into his warm mouth. Further and further he pushed me onto my back as his mouth and lips flooded my flesh with his warm slippery saliva. It was then that he reached for the tube of lubrication that he had craftily placed by the side of the bed. He grinned at me as he squeezed a liberal amount onto the fingers of his right hand. Slowly and gently he began to coat my little rose bud and I gasped out loud as I felt a finger slip effortlessly into my body. In and out it slipped coating my insides with the slippery fluid. Then two fingers invaded me stretching me, preparing my. I knew then that the moment of truth was upon me. Simon stood and came to me, looking at the apprehensive expression on my face with a mixture of concern and lust on his. “Don’t worry Shagufta” he whispered hoarsely “I will go slow darling,” he promised, reassuring me as he coated his own cock with the slippery gel on his fingers. “Turn over darling, onto your knees.” He demanded.

Smiling, I did as he asked and knelt before him. Then he was spreading me with his own legs as he came behind me, opening up my entrance to his invading cock and I felt its bulbous end press against my flesh as he positioned himself. Then slowly, oh so very slowly, he began to push. And then the pain came, a sharp stabbing pain which caused me to wince and to cry out, Simon just stopped pushing for a moment, allowing the sensation to pass. The he pushed again and a little more of him entered me and then a little more and then a little more, as he eased himself inside me. I cried out for him to stop but he knew that I must get past the pain and to allow him to take me so he just continued his slow insistent pressure. And then my flesh parted and he slipped effortless into my body. Oh how I squealed, a sound that left no doubt that he had hurt me, whilst at the same time thrilling me to the core and I felt him lean forward to kiss me, his hips absolutely still as he allowed my body to adjust. And soon the pain was replaced by something else, an all consuming fire that spread throughout my body. Simon just paused for a moment, his cock buried completely to the hilt inside me. Then he began to move, his strokes long and hard and instantly something began to happen inside me. I literally had no control of my body at all. Every fibre of my being just exploded, the epicentre of my orgasm centred around the tip of his cock. Jet after jet of cum shot from my own little cock as I writhed and bucked, every muscle of my body contracting at the same time, as I experienced the most intense orgasm of my life. Simon just stood there, content to allow my body to relax, to come down from its massive high as, with his cock still buried in me, he leant forward to kiss my back, pushing me down onto the bed. We lay like that for some time as my heart recovered, as he kissed me slowly and passionately, a small smile of triumph on his face, telling me that he was pleased he had made me cum first. Well, I wasn’t having that now, was I? Forcefully, I pushed him away from me, his cock popping out of me almost audibly. I pushed him down onto the bed this time and, grinning at him, straddled his hips with my legs. Slowly I sat on him, his cock pointing towards my heart as I impaled myself of his wondrous cock. God, he filled me so completely, his cock, like a steel spear, aiming

for my heart. I found myself just leaning back, holding my position as he began to fuck me from underneath. I soon matched his rhythm though and each time he thrust up, I felt myself push down to meet him. Faster and faster we went, my tits bouncing, my hair flying and all the time I could sense that Simon was near. And then, with a massive groan, I felt myself being forced high into the air as his hips pushed upwards in one massive thrust, as he came and came and came, deep inside my body.


We were still asleep, our hands entwined, Simon spooned up behind me, when the insistent ringing of the bedside phone caused Simon to open his eyes. Groggily he pulled his arms from under me and turned to answer the phone. “Hello?” he said as he put the phone to his ear. “Oh hi CJ....... Yes she’s here.............. Yes............. Does she have to?................Very well!.............. Yes I promise................. That one is easy. I love her............ yes, bye....” he said as he put the phone back on the hook. I just sat up and stared at him. “What was that you said?” I demanded, my heart pounding for all it was worth. “CJ wants you back at the house by 2 pm, so I am afraid we will have to postpone the sailing to another time,” he said softly as he returned my gaze. “No, not that you stupid man,” I shouted in frustration, “the bit when you said...”

“I love you.” “Yes, that bit.” I replied looking away shyly. “I do, you know, love you Shagufta,” he said simply as he lifted my chin so I was once again looking at him. I just shrieked, threw my arms around his neck and kissed him again and again and again and again, each kiss getting longer and longer and more and more passionate. “God Shagufta, now look what you have done to me,” said as he threw back the bedclothes to reveal a glorious morning erection. Once again I shrieked with pleasure as my small feminine hand grasped his length. I came to him and kissed him again as I slowly began to slide my hand up and down. Unlike the evening before, this time Simon was content to let me make the running so slowly, as he watched, I moved my head and took his length into my mouth. I took my time, exploring his flesh, nibbling its tip, licking the bulbous end, taking each one of his delicate pebbles into my mouth, experimenting to see just how much of him I could take at once and feeling inordinately proud of myself when his balls rested on my chin. And, by the time I had finished, his flesh was slick with my slippery saliva. Smiling at him, I just lay back and lifted my legs, beckoning for him to join me. Simon needed no more encouragement and in moments he was covering me with his body, my legs on his shoulders, his cock nestling at the entrance to my depths. Slowly he pushed and I felt my flesh begin to part. This time, however, whilst there was some discomfort, there was far less pain than before and soon I felt his heavy sack resting agaisnt the flesh of my body. He was like a man possessed then, fucking me wildly and without any reserve. His rhythm was fast and strong and I quickly began to feel my own body respond as he leant forward and kissed me without missing a beat. Faster and harder he went, lifting himself up on his ar so I could see the effort on his face. And then he was there, emmitting a shout of triumph as once again I felt his cum invade my depths. Slowly he began to relax, all the strength draining from his arms and I felt his weight begin to sink down onto me. I too relaxed my legs and felt him pop out of my bottom as he came to lie on top of me, my legs either side of his. I loved this feeling, the feeling of being totally possesed, totally in contact with this lovely man so I pulled his head to mine and kissed him softly. “That was lovely, my darling,” I whispered eventually.

“Bbut you didn’t....” “Didn’t cum, no I didn’t. But that doesn’t matter in the slightest to me. I love you Simon and I just wanted you to know that and that you can have me any time your heart desires darling.” “Any time?” he replied lascivioulsy his cock twitching between us. “Well perhaps not now” I giggled “I have to dress and you have to take me back to Charlotte’s” “Yes, I suppose we will have to play by the rules for a little longer.” We lay together for a few minutes, just cuddling and whispering little endearments until I suddenly realised I was leaking his cum all over the sheets. So, unceremoniously, I made a dash for the bathroom. A few minutes later I was in the shower, joined, of course by Simon. We emptied a whole tank full of hot water as we washed each other, enjoying the sensation of soapy hands on each other’s bodies. Simon, for some reason spent an inordinate amount of time washing my breasts, not that I minded in the slightest of course. And yes, this time I did cum!!! Once we were dry, ( and that took some time too ) we went back into the bedroom where Simon lay on the bed and watched me as I began my daily make up routine, drying my hair, and putting on my face whilst sat in front of the dressing table mirror. Simon had positioned himself so he could watch me as a reflection in the mirror and every time I looked at his image he was grinning inanely.

“Do you know how sexy you look, sat there naked Shagufta?” he growled as I was putting on a second coat of mascara. “But why do you go to so much trouble. You look just as beautiful without all that make up on your face.” “Cos it makes me look even prettier for you,” I grinned. “Besides, Charlotte would kill me if I looked anything but perfect.” I made a show of walking naked over to my suitcase where I selected something simple to wear. A plain white bra and panties, a pair of skin tight jeans and a pretty top and I was dressed and all the time Simon watched me, enjoying the view of his girlfriend getting ready to face the day. Suddenly, just as I sat back down in front of the dressing table, he rolled off the bed and made a dash for his bedroom and ten minutes later he reappeared having shaved and dressed, looking great in a tight t shirt and jeans. “If there is one thing I do miss about being a boy,” I moaned, “it’s being able to dress in ten minutes flat.” We breakfasted simply before Simon, reluctantly, loaded my case into his car and we began the journey back to Charlotte’s house. We had just entered Brighton when Simon suddenly turned off the road and drove towards a nearby marina.

“Just need to make a couple of quick pit stops, Shagufta, I hope you don’t mind,” Moments later we were pulling up alongside a large marina building where Simon instantly jumped out of the car. Not waiting for him, I climbed out too and, hand in hand, we walked down the quayside. Suddenly he stopped in front of a massive sailboat and pointed down at it. “That is Barracuda II, my boat, and next to you, the thing I love the most. We are hoping to represent the UK in the America’s cup next year but we still have a long way to go before we can qualify for that. “Oh Simon!” I replied breathlessly “It’s beautiful.” And it was, sleek and race car like and even I could see that it was built for speed and, as I admired it. I saw an old wizened man, a cloth cap pulled down over his eyes despite the heat of the day, walking towards us with a big grin on his face. “Morning Ted,” Simon said in greeting as the man approached us, “has the new mast arrived yet?” “Not yet Mr Weston,” he man replied “supposed to come this afternoon,” he continued whilst he looked at me. “But tell me, who is this beautiful young woman you have with you?” It was then that Simon was to utter the words that thrilled me to the core. “This, you dirty old man, is my girlfriend, Shagufta. So keep your hands off!” It was about thirty minutes after that, that we made our second stop We parked in a quiet suburban street outside a large bungalow, and as I climbed out of the car, Simon opened the boot and recovered several dry cleaning bags that were in there. I looked at him quizzically as he led me to the front door, knocked and then went straight inside without waiting for the door to be answered. “Bumpah,” he called and my heart stopped. We were at his grandmother’s house! He had brought me to his grandmother’s house! I just stopped in the doorway like a frightened rabbit, unable to move. I could hear voices in the living room and then suddenly Simon reappeared, smiling at me reassuringly. “Come on Shagufta,” he said softly “there’s someone I want you to meet.” I just stood there petrified. Gently Simon reached forward and took me by the hand and with a gentle but insistent pressure, pulled me inside. What choice did I have? He led me into the living room where a grey haired Indian woman was sat. She stood as we entered the room and smiled at me.

“This is Shagufta, grandmother, the girl I have been telling you about. Shagufta, this is my Bumpah, Mrs Madhu Weston.” She came over to me and took hold of both my hands in hers and looked at me a huge smile on my face. “Welcome Shagufta” she said before turning back to Simon “What a beautiful young woman Simon,” the pleasure on her face evident, “and from India too I see.” “Yes Mrs Weston,” I replied respectfully. “My parents live in Mumbai.” “Oh please call me Madhu, Shagufta. Now you must tell me all about yourself.” She made me sit next to her on a large sofa whilst she gave me the ‘third degree’. I kept to my cover story as best as I could, telling her that I was a student taking a gap year and that Simon and I had met through mutual friends. From the look on her face, she obviously knew that he and I were more than just good friends too. She kept us there for over an hour despite the fact that Simon kept hinting that we had to be going, that he had to take me ‘home’. Eventually, though, she deigned to let us leave but as she did, she came over to me and kissed me lightly on the cheek. “You let me know if this grandson of mine does not treat you well Shagufta,” she said smiling broadly at me. “and you Simon,” she said as she playfully slapped him on the face, before kissing him too, “should snap this delightful young woman up before someone else takes her away.” “I don’t think I need to worry about that Bumpah” he said smiling back at her before giving her the biggest of hugs. We were, of course, late getting back to Charlotte’s house. As we got back into the car I tried to be oh so cross with Simon for not telling me about going to his grandmother’s. I pouted and pretended to sulk but I failed miserably. She was such a nice old lady and I knew why now he loved her so much. Besides she had called me ‘beautiful’ and ‘delightful’ so I couldn’t really be cross, could I. Charlotte was stood on the door step when at precisely 2.18 pm we rolled up the driveway. She just stood there, dressing jeans and a lovely peasant smock, her hands on her hips in a posture which told us she was annoyed at us being late. Yet, as I climbed out of the Aston and ran over to her, a huge smile on my face, everything was forgiven. “I take it everything went well Shagufta” she whispered in my ear as I hugged her. “Oh yes!” I replied breathlessly. “Good” she said, now all business like once again. “Simon, you may take Shagufta’s bag into the house and then you may say goodbye to each other.” He looked at her with an expression that would have been home on a guilty schoolboy and then did as she asked. He took my bag into the house and then came and kissed me, a slow lingering kiss that I returned in equal measure. And as he broke away from me, he hugged me and whispered in my ear. “I love you Shagufta.” Charlotte and I stood on the lawn together and watched as he got back into the car and started the engine. I waved as he drove away and then, as Charlotte linked her arm into mine, the dam burst, and I found myself gushing all about my evening with the man that I loved. The Engagement

It was just over three weeks later that Simon proposed to me. He took me out to a romantic spot by a river, laid a huge car rug on the ground and produced a sumptuous picnic lunch. He laid out plate after plate of food and even produced a bottle of red wine and two glasses. He popped the cork and poured out the wine, handing one of the glasses to me. I nearly choked when I took a sip, for in the bottom of the glass there was a ring. I shrieked girlishly as I put in my finger and fished it out, for it was stunning, a platinum ring set with the most amazing diamond cluster. He didn’t have to ask. I just threw myself at him and said kept on yelling ‘YES!’ at the top of my voice until, laughing at me, he put the ring on the forth finger of my left hand. It was Charlotte who insisted we announce our engagement properly. A notice was placed in ‘The Times’ and she arranged for us to give an interview to none other than Hello magazine. Initially, they sent a reporter around but after she had met us, she insisted that the magazine do a feature on us for their readers. After all, Simon was something of a society figure, an ex Marine officer who had inherited millions and man who was well known for his prowess as a yachtsman. Everything was arranged. The magazine sent a photographer along with the same reporter a few days later. Amy helped me dress in very traditional Indian costume, complete with bridal jewellery, and performed a simply stunning makeover on me. Simon just looked delicious in a navy blue double breasted jacket and I couldn’t have been happier as we posed for the camera. By far my favourite picture was one of me looking a little more demure whilst Simon rested his head on my forehead, his lips gently caressing my skin. A few days later, CJ had come into my bedroom, carrying several copies of that week’s issue and had, with a broad grin, handed me one of them. I am not ashamed to say I screamed out loud when I saw our picture on the front cover. It was also Charlotte that suggested I host a formal engagement party, something I was really keen to do. But, as I thought more deeply about this suggestion I suddenly realised I had a problem. Other than Simon, CJ, Amy and Greg, I had no one I could call a friend, not as Shagufta anyway. So I went to see Charlotte. “Oh Shagufta, don’t worry about that darling. Leave it to me and I will invite some people I know around to meet you.” It was on the following Tuesday that, at breakfast, Charlotte announced we would be having guests for coffee and that I should dress in something simple but pretty for the day. She wouldn’t tell me whom was coming but simply sent me up to my room to get changed from the jeans and t-shirt I had chosen to come down in. I was up in my room, getting changed into a rather lovely leather

skirt and a pretty low cut top when I began to hear cars and feminine voices coming from downstairs. At precisely 11 am Charlotte came to get me. She just took hold of my hand and led me downstairs and into the large sitting room. Sitting there, already attacking glasses of wine, were four of the most beautiful woman you could possible imagine. They were all chatting away like they were long time friends but the moment we walked in their attention was focussed entirely on us. “Ladies” Charlotte began “may I introduce Miss Shagufta Hanaphie, soon to be Mrs Simon Weston. Shagufta, this is Helena” indicating a big breasted brunette sitting on the left. “Next to her is Debby, then Pippa and then Isobel and they are all graduates of the program. And then it was a little like a cheerleaders reunion. They all came over to me and greeted me enthusiastically with hugs and kisses, making me feel so welcome to their little group. “We were just saying Shagufta, how jealous we are of you. God girl, you got your picture on the front cover of Hello magazine. How lucky are you” said Pippa as they all sat down again. “And that man of yours,” continued Izzy. “What a hunk! Bet you he has a really big coc..” “Girls.....” said Charlotte crossly, interrupting Pippa. “Thank you” I said softly watching their gaze turn back to me “And yes he does!” I giggled. And that was that. I was instantly included in the group and a few bottles of wine later, I knew all about them and they knew all about me. Helena was married to a well known footballer whilst Debby, the most demure of the four was married to a prominent politician and it was she that showed me pictures of two of the cutest children imaginable, Sophie who was six and her little brother Peter who was four. She and her husband had adopted them after their parents had been killed in an air disaster and she was inordinately proud of her family. Pippa’s husband was, it seemed, a pre-eminent surgeon in the field of gender reassignment, whilst Issy (as she liked to be called), being the most recent graduate, was still only engaged to her fella, a member of the aristocracy no less. It was so wonderful to be with some girls of my own age too and to be able to talk about all the trials and tribulations of being such a woman. Of the four of them only Debby and Pippa had made the full transition and, whilst Issy was still undecided about that, Helena was scheduled for her surgery in a few weeks time. “I am really excited Shagufta,” she said as she told me that bit of news. “I can’t wait to be a whole woman. What about you? Are you going through with it?” “I don’t know yet. Simon and I haven’t really discussed it but I think he might like me just the way I am.” “Oh believe me darling” added Pippa, “they soon get used to you having a pussy,” she laughed. “So then girls” said Charlotte eventually “Shagufta needs your help to organise an engagement party. Are you up for it?” Just for a moment, they looked at each. “Parteeeey” they all said together grinning at me.

By the time the girls left, the plans for the party were already pretty well mapped out for me. I had a list of guests to invite, excluding any of Simons friends. I could include them later. I had names of caterers and a telephone number for a band that Issy said were ‘smoking hot’. CJ agreed to arrange the marquee in the garden as well as let us have the use of the ball room in the house. We even agreed a dress code, long dresses for the women and dinner jackets for the men. I was so happy that I just had to phone Simon to check that the provisional date we had come up with would be OK for him! The Plans Go Awry! The following day was hectic. There were phone calls by the hundred and bookings to be made but by lunch time I had secured both the band and the caterers that had been recommended and I was in seventh heaven. It was Charlotte that suggested I take the afternoon off and do a little shopping, maybe go and look for a dress to wear, recommending something a little more ‘western’ than a Saree for the evening. Thinking this to be a good idea, and already having a pretty god idea where I could get such a dress, I hopped into my mini and headed for town. I was already a regular customer at the dress shop I had in mind and by 5 pm I had whittled my choice down to two, a lovely black sheath and a stunning lilac creation that had the most incredible layered skirt that just floated around my legs. I couldn’t decide which to choose so I bought them both! Oh the privilege of wealth. The manageress of the shop arranged to have them altered so that they fit me perfectly too and said she would have them delivered by the end of the week. I had parked my car a few streets away from the shop and thought nothing of making the walk. After all it was the middle of the afternoon and there was a constant stream of pedestrians walking by. I was just so blissfully happy, so full of life, that I totally missed all the signs that something bad was about to happen. I had just walked past a street corner when a large hand whipped itself around my face whilst another hand grabbed my arm and twisted it painfully behind my back. An intense acrid smell attacked my senses a smell coming from the cloth that was clamped over my mouth and nose with a vice like grip. And then, all went dark! There was a hand slapping my face as I regained consciousness and the first thing I remembered was the nauseous smell of a man’s incredibly bad breath close to my face. My head was pounding violently and a bright light shining into my eyes, caused me to blink furiously. I tried to move my hands but for some reason I couldn’t and something in my mouth prevented me from making anything but a guttural moan. And, as my eyes came into focus, I saw my tormentor for the first time and I realised that all I could see were his eyes and his mouth for he was wearing some sort of ski mask. But his eyes were hard and cruel and his breath smelled of two day old whisky but there was no doubt in my mind that he was a man not to be trifled with. “Fucking hell!” he said, his voice harsh and urgent, “she’s fucking hot.” “Leave ‘er be Bill,” a second voice sounded, his voice coarse and common. “touch ‘er and and you’ll ‘ave me to deal wiv. We keep the merchandise in good ‘ealth until after the drop. Then you can do what you like wiv ‘er.” “But...” the first man continued. The second man came into view then. He was a huge black man,

older than the first, and he too was wearing a ski mask to disguise his face. He grabbed the first man by the shirt just under his chin and pushed a meaty fist into his face. “Leave the bitch alone!” he said very slowly. I saw the younger man gulp and little and then nod his agreement. “Yes, er, Fred” he said, his pause telling me that they were not using their real names. I watched as the black man came over to me, my eyes wide with fear, for in his belt I could clearly see an automatic pistol, it’s ugly hand grip digging into the flesh of his belly. “Look bitch,” he said looking at me “be’ave and you might well come out of this alive. Understand.” Wildly, I nodded, unable to voice my reply because of the gag but desperate not to give him any excuse to hurt me. I just lay there as still as I could, my arms tied behind my back and my legs tied at the ankles. Desperately, I looked around me, trying to take stock of the situation. I was lying on a bed in some cheap motel room. The curtains were drawn and there was nothing that gave me any sense of time. I could have been there for days for all I knew. Bill, the younger of the two was pacing up and down nervously. He had a knife in his hand, a vicious looking weapon that he was swinging around in his hand so that the blade would disappear into the handle. Fred, however, was sat at a small table a laptop open in front of him. He was playing with the keys and moments later I watched as Simons face appeared on the screen. I could see Fred grinning through the slit in his ski mask I watched angled the built in webcam so that Simon could get a view of me. “She’s un’armed so far” Fred said as Bill came over to join him. “You lay one finger on her and I will kill you,” Simon growled, his voice hard and professional, as he showed a side of his character I had never seen before. This was the professional soldier speaking, not my boyfriend. “Let me speak to her.” Fred nodded and indicated something to Bill. He came over and roughly grabbed me by the hair, yanking me into a sitting position in front of the laptop. He reached behind my head and loosened the gag. “Are you OK Shagufta?” he asked quickly. “Yes” I croaked. “Simon, they’ve got guns!” I screeched and Bill hit me, hard around the face with the flat of his hand, grinning at me through his ski mask as I fell back onto the bed. He quickly replaced the gag and then held his knife against my throat and all the time Simon kept his face expressionless. “There will be no negotiatin’, no extending the time,” Fred said. “We want £1 million in used notes in a metal brief case and you are to be on the 9.19 am London to Brighton train tomorrow mornin’. Make sure you ‘ave your mobile. And if the police come sniffin’ your bitch is dead. Get it.” and with that he pulled down the lid of the laptop, cutting Simon off. “That was stupid, bitch,” Bill said as he relaxed he pressure on the knife. “But at least ‘e knows we mean business.” Furiously, I worked my mouth up and down, my tongue pushing at the gag, loosening it just enough so I could push it out of the way. “What are you going to do with me?” I managed to croak. “What do you think, bitch,” Bill sneered as he came over to me and replaced the gag, this time tying it so tightly that it felt like it was cutting into my flesh. He sat next to me on the bed then and his hand grasped my breast roughly through the material of my blouse, causing me to flinch and writhe furiously as I tried to move away from him,

Fred was on his feet instantly and his meaty fist slapped his partner hard around the back of his head. “I said leave ‘er alone” he shouted furiously as Bill spun round, his knife in his hand. Fred just smiled and pulled out his gun and pointed it at Bill’s heart a sarcastic smile on his face. “All right!” shouted Bill in frustration. “But when we ‘ave the money, I get to play before we........” I lay there, forcing myself to stay as still as I could, despite the panic I felt in my mind. ‘ What if they tried to rape me? What if they found out about me? Oh God, Simon! They will ruin him! Oh God, Simon! God, that creep was going to try and rape me. They are going to kill me when they find out.” It was all I could think about. What would happen when they found out what was still between my legs. I knew this was irrational for they were probably going to kill me anyway but the only thing I was worried about was that they would know about me and they would know that Simon had a transsexual as a girlfriend. I found myself sobbing quietly, my tears wracking my body. Oh god, what was I going to do? The time ticked slowly by, the two men never leaving the room. They deigned to give me a little water but nothing else, although they ate well from food they had brought with them. Fitfully I slept a little, turning onto my side to face away from them so I could at least try and get comfortable and when I awoke I could just see the light of a new day creeping under the curtains drawn across the window. The two men were already awake and Bill was preparing to leave. “Stick to the plan Bill and everythin’ will be fine,” ordered Fred, his face still covered with a ski mask. “and when you get back with the money, you can ‘ave your fun wiv’ ‘er,” and I saw Bill give a sardonic smile as he slipped out of the bedroom. Once he had gone, Fred just came over to me to check that my hands and feet were still securely tied before turning on the television to listen to the news. I suppose he wanted to check to see if there was anything about a kidnap. He also fished a radio out of a bag and switched it on and i could hear that it was tuned into the police frequencies somehow. But there was nothing, no chatter about me or a kidnapping, just routine messages flying around. It was just after 9.20 by the clock in the corner of the TV when Fred dialled a number on a disposable phone. It was answered instantly. “Got the money?.......... “Good job too.......... Now listen carefully. In a few minutes the train will pass through an unused station called South Battersby. There will be a man standing on the platform. Throw the case out of the train window and if it has the money in it, you get your girlfriend back....... No you can’t talk to her...........” I groaned when I heard that. My one last hope was that Bill would be caught, picking up the money. But there was no way Simon would be able to get the police to cover the whole of the London to Brighton line. Surely that was the end of it for me. I just lay there trembling with fear, waiting for the inevitable, waiting for the call that would seal my fate. But nothing! 10 am passed, 10.30, 11.00 am and still no call. Fred was pacing up and down the room like a caged lion, muttering to himself about being double crossed, about what he was going to do to Bill when he caught up with him. But then the door to the room opened. Bill minus his balaclava, walked into the room, as bold as brass, a huge cocky smile on his face. His face was just as I imagined it would be, skin pockmarked with acne scars, a long weasily look about him set with evil sinister eyes, long lank greasy hair tied back in a rough pony tail. It was a face I would never forget. “Did you get it?” asked Fred. “Piece of cake” replied Bill as he threw the case onto the table. “Here, open it.”

I heard the snap, snap of the brief case clasps and a gasp from Fred as he opened the lid. “Fucking hell Bill. We done it!” shouted Fred as he ripped off his ski mask in jubilation.”Fuckin’ hell, fuckin’ hell.” “And now I get what’s coming to me too” growled Bill as he strode over to bed. Instantly he was on me, tearing at my clothes, pulling up my skirt, his fetid breath making me retch as he tried to kiss me. I just screamed as best I could and writhed and kicked and twisted, desperately trying to keep his hands away from between my legs. And the more I struggled, the more he seemed to be enjoying himself. He slapped me viciously across the face and ripped at my blouse exposing my breasts, pulling up my skirt to show my stocking clad legs, and just as I thought he was going to force my legs open, all hell let loose. The door of the bedroom literally flew open, straight into the back of Fred, sending him careering across the room and head first into the wall. Instantly, two men, all in black, their faces completely covered and each armed with sinister looking automatic pistol with the ugly addition of a silencer attached, burst into the room. Fred just looked up in complete and utter surprise as the first of the invaders whipped his weapon across the back of his skull, knocking him senseless and causing him to fall on top of me. Rough hands were soon hauling him away and, moments later, a strong pair of arms were wrapping themselves around me as a sharp knife cut through my bonds. “Room secure Boss” I heard a familiar voice call as the second man relieved the kidnappers of their weapons. “Shagufta, darling, it’s ok, it’s me” Simon called as he pulled off his own ski mask. I just melted into him, my whole body shaking from the fear and adrenalin that was pouring through my body, my head buried in his neck as he cradled me in his huge protective arms, and as huge sobs of relief wracked through me. “Shagufta, I need to know, did they hurt you? Did they find out about you?” he said, panic and urgency in his voice. “Nnoo” I wailed through my tears “I ddoon’t think so. I tthinkk you were in time.” I managed to look up to see Greg had also removed his ski mask and was stood over the two unconscious and prostrate men, his gun pointing directly at them. “Do you want me to tap them boss?” said Greg, his tone of voice professional and deadly. “No Sergeant. Not yet at least. Handcuff them and then wake them up.” “Tell me Shagufta” Simon continued “Are you certain they didn’t find out about you?” he asked. “Yes, positive” I managed to say “Why?”

“Because had they, I would have killed them, and that would have complicated matters,” he said, his voice deadly serious, sending a shiver down my spine. “The big black guy is coming round Boss,” called Greg as he replaced his ski mask and I watched as Simon did the same, obviously wanting to keep their identity a secret from these two men. Greg had handcuffed both of them with their hands behind their backs and had sat them up so they were resting against a wall. Just like they had done to me, Greg had also gagged them so they couldn’t call out and, despite the damage to the door, had closed that too, to give us some kind of privacy in the room. Simon untangled himself from my arms, even though I was desperately trying to cling on to him. He stood, menacingly, walked over to the two men and crouched down before them. Fred was now awake, the anger and defiance in his eyes evident and Bill was just coming round too. Simon waited until they were both fully conscious and then he began to talk. “Gentlemen” he said softly, speaking mainly to Fred. “You, I am afraid to say, are in a deep load of shit. You picked the wrong target when you kidnapped Miss Hanaphie here. She, as you might know, is engaged to a Royal Marine Officer and the Marines look after their own,” he continued as he played with a vicious looking combat knife he had produced from somewhere. “But worse than that for you is that Miss Hanaphie is under the personal protection of one Ms Charlotte Johnson and she is one lady I would definitely not want to cross. You see she has quite incredible influence with many powerful men in this country. Not only is she on very good terms with the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police but she is also a great friend of one Fearsome Freddie Bates.” I gasped as I saw the reaction that name got. Suddenly their expression turned from one of insolence to one of real fear. “Ah, I see you have heard of Mr Freddie Bates” continued Simon softly. “Well Ms Johnson has been in touch with him personally this morning and has apprised him of the situation. He is more than a little annoyed that two such gentlemen as you would dare to try such a thing as kidnapping Miss Hanaphie without his sanction. If I were you, once we have left, I would make myself very scarce, as I believe some of his men are intending to pay you a little visit and I don’t think they will be quite as forgiving as I am.” “Can I add something Boss” said Greg as he too joined Simon and stood in front of Bill. Bill was still sat with his back against the wall, his legs splayed out on the floor and his eyes followed Greg’s every move. “This little bastard here was about to rape Miss Hanaphie and I can’t let that go unpunished.” “So, Sergeant, what do you want to do about it,” asked Simon, his face displaying no emotion, “cut his balls off?” “Nope, I think this will do” said Greg. Like lightening, a steel toe capped boot shot forward, propelled with all the force of a very muscular man, and landed square between Bill’s outstretched legs. Bill just screamed and screamed and screamed, despite his gag, before fainting dead away as the pain of his crushed testicles got the better of him. “There” said Greg with a very satisfied voice “that should stop him from attacking anyone soon.” “I think that concludes our business here” said Simon as he stood and came over to the bed. He helped me to stand and with his strong arms around me half carried me out of the emergency exit of the hotel. A Range Rover was parked at the bottom of the stairs, its engine running, and whilst Greg put the case full of money in the boot, Simon helped me into the back seat where a very relieved looking Charlotte was sat waiting. She just pulled me into a fierce hug as once again the tears of relief began to flow. I was in such a state of shock that I hardly remembered the journey back to Charlotte’s house. I do remember being cradled by her like a little girl, her hands gently combing through my hair as she hugged me and soothingly stroked my head. And, when we arrived and the house, Simon lifted me bodily out of the car and as I put my ar around his neck and buried my face in his neck, he had effortlessly carried me upstairs and into my bedroom. Amy was waiting there. She and Charlotte shooed the boys out of the room and then proceeded to undress me. They made me slip

into my bed then and I the last thing I remembered was the light prick of a hypodermic needle, as Amy administered a sedative to make me sleep. It was the following morning when I awoke from my nightmare. Simon was asleep in a chair which he had brought into my room and I just lay there for a few moments looking at him, reappraising the man that I loved and I suddenly I felt so comforted, so safe, knowing that he would always be there to protect me. I was still watching him as his eyes flickered open as he came out of his light sleep. “Hi handsome,” I said softly. “How is my knight in shining armour?” Slowly, he came over to me and clambered onto the bed next to me. I rolled over then and snuggled up to him as he pulled me into a gentle embrace and kissed me lightly on the forehead. “God Shagufta, you don’t know how worried I have been darling,” he said softly. “How do you feel? Are you OK?” “I think so.” I said smiling tentatively, putting on a brave face for him. “But how? How did you know where I was?” “That part was easy. There was a GPS tracker in the handle of the brief case provided by CJ. She is one remarkable lady you know. The rest was easy, once we knew where you were. Greg and I are more than a match for any two thugs you might come across.” “You kept calling him Sergeant....” “Mm. We were in the Royals together. He was my first platoon Sergeant and is a very useful man to have around.” “Simon, would you have..... Would you have killed those men if they had, you know.....?” “In a heartbeat.” he replied simply and I believed him. Amy came in at that point and made noises to shoo Simon out of the room. He kissed me tentatively on the lips and, did as he was asked as Amy began to fuss and mother me and the healing process began. It was a few days after that, that I moved out of Charlotte’s house and moved in with Simon in the house outside of Brighton. The Argument “You know perfectly well why I want to do this!” I screamed at the top of my voice, frustration getting the better of me. “And I absolutely forbid it,” Simon yelled back, his anger equal to my own. “What!” I screeched “How dare you think you could forbid me to do anything. Besides I am doing this for you!” “And that is precisely why I can’t let you do it,” he shouted. “Well just try and stop me. It is my body and I will do what I like with it.” I found myself turning away from him, close to tears, my arms folded across my breasts in a very

annoyed gesture. Simon and I had never argued like this before and I hated having to stand up to him this way. It was then that he came up to me, obviously feeling the same way, for he enveloped me from behind in those big strong arms of his. But I was so angry I refused to respond. I just stood there seething. “Why? Why won’t you let me have my operation?” I demanded. “Because I love you just the way you are,” he said, his voice now more under control, “and I don’t care if the whole world knows you are a transsexual woman.” “That’s not the impression I got when you threatened to kill those thugs.” I said furiously. “Well it’s not just that Shagufta” he said softly, his voice now making me calm down a little as he hugged me from behind. “It’s just that, that, you have suffered so much for me, I just don’t want you to go through any more pain.” “I can’t not do this Simon,” I said, tears now running down my face. “I will not risk being exposed as a fucking shemale and ruin your life with the scandal of it all. I want to be a complete woman, your woman and that means I have to have my final operation. And if you love me, you will support me in this.” Slowly, he turned me around so my head was resting against his chest. “I do love you, more than life itself Shagufta and that is why I don’t want to see you in any more pain.” “But Simon,” I said tearfully “this is different. This time I am making the choice, I will be in control. And afterwards, I will still be me, I will still be your transsexual woman, only, there will be no risk of anyone else finding out about that.” “But Shagufta, that is not a good enough reason, can’t you see. Doing this just for me isn’t the right reason for putting yourself through this.” “It’s not though,” I whispered. “What?” he asked incredulously. “I need to do this for me Simon.” I whispered again. “Please explain darling.” “It’s me Simon. All my life I have known that I wanted to live my life as a woman, to be a woman. I thought you understood that. Even before all of this, I had my whole life mapped out you know, as a woman, not a man. Then Charlotte and you came along and now the one thing that stands in my way of complete and utter happiness is that bit of useless flesh between my legs.” “It does seem to have stopped working recently,” he chuckled, making me look up at him. “That’s the hormones I am afraid. They do that! Look, I want to be a woman, I want to be your woman Simon. It’s just I want to be your woman with a vagina and not a penis.” “All right, all right Shagufta” he said softly as he wiped the tears away from my face with his thumbs. “I’ll tell you what. Provided you can convince the doctors that the real reason you want SRS is for you and not for me, then I will not stand in your way.” “Do you mean that?” I whispered. “Yes, but only if the real reason for having your operation is for you and you alone. You will, of course, have to persuade everyone else of that.” I just threw my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply on the lips, our first argument forgotten.

Whilst Simon had been difficult to persuade, CJ was delighted for me when I told her. It took her a couple of days but she was able to arrange a consultation with Professor John Layton no less, and then grinned when she announced that it was he that Pippa was married to. So, on the day, I took very special care with my hair and makeup and dressed in a very pretty sheath dress which I matched with a black jacket. Both Charlotte and Simon had wanted to come with me but I was quite insistent that I wanted to do this on my own. I think perhaps, because of the kidnapping, they both felt over protective towards me but this was something I knew I needed to do without their support. It was just after 11 am when I arrived at the consulting rooms. The receptionist just looked at me as any other patient, probably a young woman in the early stages of a ‘glamour career’ wanting bigger breasts or something. I giggled at that thought as I took a seat in the waiting area. Professor Layton was not at all as I expected him to be. I suppose I thought he would be the stereotypical middle aged college professor but think George Clooney in his ER days and you wouldn’t be far wrong. He led me through to his consulting room and had me sit at his desk whilst he got out a medical folder with my name on it. “I am so pleased to meet you at last Miss Hanaphie and may I saw how perfectly lovely you look,” he said as he closed the folder. “My wife has told me so much about you and can I just say that Simon Weston is a very lucky young man.” “Thank you Professor Layton,“ I said shyly. “But please call me Shagufta.” “Now CJ tells me you want to be considered for SRS.” “Yes. Simon and I want to get married as soon as possible but I want to wait until after I have had my operation.” “Normally a young woman such as yourself would be made to wait for at least two years after beginning to live her life as a woman full time.” Professor Layton continued. “However, provided you pass all the medical and psychological tests we are going to put you through, I don’t see why we can’t accelerate that process in your case.” “So where do we begin?” “A thorough examination” I think. “This will be an intimate examination Shagufta so would you like a nurse present?” “No,” I replied smiling at him “that won’t be necessary.” “Good, pop behind the screen and take off your dress. You can leave your bra and panties on.” The examination was indeed thorough. He measured my height and weight and blood pressure, took several samples of blood and had a good listen to my heart. He then did a full breast examination, a full rectal examination,

measured body fat in all the right areas and took measurements and digital pictures of my penis. He even located the hormone implant under my skin. “Charlotte knows I don’t approve of some of her methods Shagufta. I don’t like her administering unprescribed medication for whatever reason. However, it appears you have adjusted well to the hormone therapy so I want to remove the implant and give you another one, if that is OK with you.” He did just that and a few minutes later I was dressed again and sat in front of his desk whilst he completed writing a note in his file. Eventually he looked up and smiled. “Well Shagufta, from what I can see, you are an ideal candidate for reassignment surgery. You are in excellent physical condition, not too skinny like some of the girls I see. I have reduced the levels of hormones in your implant a little to prevent any further atrophy of your penis as this will be used to construct the vagina during surgery. At present there is plenty of, erm, ‘material’ to work with and I would like it to stay that way.” “So what is next Professor?” “I will arrange for you to see a clinical psychiatrist. Her name is Doctor Helena Cartwright. She will do a full psychological assessment on you before we take things any further.” It took several visits to Dr Cartwright before she was satisfied that I was sincere about wanting to be a woman for the rest of my life. I think what clinched it for her was meeting Simon and realising just how committed we were to one another. She even interviewed Simon on his own, and, whilst he never told me about their conversation, she obviously believed that he was completely behind me, 100%. It was a few days later, and the two of us were cuddled up in bed together with Simon spooned up delightfully behind me, his groin pressing lightly into my curvaceous body. I knew that he was just falling off to sleep by his breathing but I had a question that just wouldn’t wait. “Simon” I began “Am I being selfish?” “Whaaat?” he said as he came awake again. “Am I being selfish, you know, wanting to have my operation? After all, you have always wanted, you know, a girl like I am at the moment.” “Ah!” he said as he pulled me around so that my head was resting on the pillow in front of his so that he could look me in the eyes. “Yes, maybe you are, just a little. I have always dreamed of having a partner like you, you know I have. But what I never imagined would happen is just how much I have fallen in love with you and just how important your happiness is to me so I really don’t mind, honestly. Besides, I have been thinking about what you having your operation would mean to us, you know, the way we make love and all, and I have come to the conclusion that losing your penis isn’t going to make all that much difference. I will still know in my heart who and what you were and that’s what counts to me. But why the question. Are you having doubts now?” “No, it’s just that.........” I reached under my pillow and pulled out a letter and handed it to Simon. Slowly he opened it and scanned the contents. I knew every word for I had read it over and over hardly daring to believe what it said. It was from Professor Layton confirming that I had been approved for SRS and confirming the date we had agreed upon. “But I will be away with the team! You know I will!” he exclaimed as he saw the date. “You can’t, not when I’m away.” “That is exactly why I have chosen this date darling.” I said lovingly. “I don’t want you around when I have my op. I don’t want you to see me all beaten up, black and blue from the surgery. I want you to go away with your sailing

team and win for me whilst I get myself sorted out. Then when you get back, we can get married and start our lives as husband and wife. Besides Charlotte and Amy will take good care of me.” “If you are sure Shagufta, if you are really sure” “I have never been more sure of anything in my life Simon.” “Well.........” “Thank you” I whispered. “What for?” he asked slowly. “Thank you for loving me, thank you for being the most wonderful man in the world and thank you for letting me be me.” I said as tears began to well up in my eyes. “Hey, hey,” he said softly as he tenderly reached forwards to kiss each of my closed eyes. “Let’s have none of that shall we. And so it was decided. Simon spent the next two weeks frantically preparing for his’ work up’ as he liked to call it, a period of training and trials in preparation for the qualifiers for the Americas cup competition. The team would be shipping out for Florida with Barracuda II on the back of a huge transport vessel and there was lots to arrange. I was introduced to all of the crew and their wives and girlfriends too and just automatically became known as the ‘skippers girl’. I loved that. Then, after a tearful goodbye, I waved Simon off and drove back to Charlotte’s house where it had been arranged I would live for the next three months. It’s strange. I wasn’t nervous at all when the day came for me to check into the clinic. No, if anything, I was excited. I would be saying at the clinic for several days after the operation, so I had packed a case and Amy had driven me down to London. We arrived, right on schedule, where after settling into my private room, Professor Layton had appeared and given me a thorough check over, pronouncing me fit and healthy and ready in all respects for surgery. I had then spent a quiet evening just reading or watching television until Simon had called to wish me good luck on his satellite telephone from somewhere off the Florida Straits. I slept well and woke hungry although I wasn’t allowed anything to eat. At precisely 10 am the anaesthetist had arrived and, as Amy held my hand, he had injected me with some cocktail of drugs. I had then been loaded onto a trolley and had been wheeled down to the operating theatre. Professor Layton was there, already gowned and gloved and he smiled through his surgical mask as I was wheeled inside. “Ready Shagufta?” he asked and I had just nodded sleepily. I was connected to this monitor and that machine and a drip was inserted into my left arm. Then the anaesthetist had paced a mask over my face and by the time I had counted back from 10 to 7 all was darkness. It was several hours later when I finally awoke. Strangely I couldn’t feel anything, not even the bandages that were wrapped around my groin area. Amy was there of course, a concerned but reassuring smile on her face as two nurses fussed around me, checking the multitude of electronic equipment I seemed to be connected to. There were tubes everywhere, a drip in my arm, a catheter strapped to my groin, a plastic tube feeding oxygen into my nose. The nurses made me feel as comfortable as possible, given the circumstances, until Professor Leyton came in to see me. He had had the bandages removed so he could inspect the area of my operation and, much to my relief, pronounced the operation a complete success. It was on the day after my operation that Charlotte paid me a visit. I seemed to have recovered well from the general anaesthetic but even though the drip had been removed from my arm, I was still connected to a catheter.

She just came breezing in, carrying a pretty bunch of flowers and, in a very motherly way, came straight over to me and kissed me on the cheek. “How are you Shagufta?” she asked as she perched herself down on a chair, folding her feet up under her bottom as I had seen her do countless times. “Sore” I grimaced “but so very, very, happy.” “So, no regrets then?” “None, what so ever CJ.” I managed to grin. “I just hope everything is alright between Simon and me now.” “Oh, I have a feeling it will be darling” she said somewhat mysteriously. “He loves you very much you know.” “And I love him. I do miss him though.” I sighed. It was at that moment that Jenny, my nurse came breezing in. She came over to the bed and quickly took my pulse recording her findings on a chart. “There’s another delivery of flowers for you Shagufta” she said as she put down the chart. “Is it OK if the delivery boy brings them in?” she asked, struggling to keep a straight face. “Yes, please,” I replied, now beginning to suspect something was going on. I watched as a young man entered my room, his face obscured by the biggest bunch of red roses I had ever seen. And then I shrieked in a very un-lady like way as the man lowered the roses and a very familiar grin appeared as both the nurse and Charlotte laughed out loud. “Simon, Simon, Oh Simon” I shrieked again as I held out my hands to him. And moments later I was in his arms, hugging him and kissing him as he sat on the edge of the bed. It was only after several minutes of this that I stopped and then hit him, playfully on the shoulder. “Ow, what was that for?” he said grinning at me and rubbing himself as if I had hurt him. “That is for not telling me you were coming. I must look awful. What the hell are you doing here?” “We broke a mast in a force 8 and I had to fly in to organise a replacement. So I thought I would surprise you,” he said as he kissed me once again and as the nurse and Charlotte slipped out of the room to give us a little time. “How are you? The doctor said that everything had gone really well.” “So they tell me” I said softly as I clutched on to him “Oh Simon, I am so happy” I said, tears beginning to well up inside. “I hurt all over but I can’t stop crying from happiness. I am finally me darling. I am finally the person I was always meant to be.”

I was crying now, the tears falling uncontrollably down my face, tears of happiness I had been holding back until now. “Shush now, Shagufta” Simon said, comforting me as best he could, as he grabbed a tissue from the box by my bed. “I love you ssoo mmuch Simon,” I sniffed. “And I love you too Shagufta.” “How long can you stay?” I asked, half hoping that it would be forever. “Just a few hours darling,” he replied softly. “I have a six o’clock flight back out to Miami this evening.” “But you’ll still be back as planned, won’t you?” I asked, still clutching onto him. “Nothing will keep me away longer that I have to beautiful,” he said simply. Over the next few days, I began to realise just how invasive the operation had been. As the pain medication I had been prescribed was slowly reduced, I began to feel like I had been hit by a bus. I also began to become aware of the bandages and packing that were keeping my vagina open whilst the tissues around healed. It was only after the third day that I was allowed to see whilst a nurse changed my dressings. My whole groin area was a mass of bruising, the skin stained yellow from the antiseptic wash used before the operation. My vagina looked just like a piece of battered raw steak and all I could do was cry with happiness. The doctor in charge of my recovery had used a special dilator on me to measure the depth of my vagina and pronounced, in a very smug tone, that I had just over 7 inches, one of the best results recently achieved. By day 4 I was up on my feet, albeit moving very gingerly and stiffly. It was around about this time that the nurses began to instruct me on how to look after myself, how to dilate to keep myself open, how to take care of the wounds for myself until they were fully healed. After 7 days the external stitches were removed and whilst I still had a long way to go, my recovery was well on its way. The swelling was down and the bruising was beginning to fade. For the first time I was able to see what my new vagina would look like and to me, it was simply perfect. I cried again. I seemed to be doing that a lot! It was on the following day that i was discharged from the hospital My convalescence went well after that. My body healed quickly and I began to regain my mobility. But more than anything else, I was so happy. I was a woman, I was in love with a wonderful man and I was getting married. The Wedding “Come on sleepy head!” said Charlotte firmly as she poked her head around the door. “Time to get up. Big day today.” I peeked out of the edge of the duvet to see her standing there in her dressing gown, her hair all tousled and messy, and smiled a lazy smile. I held out my arms and Amy came over and sat on the edge of the bed so I could hug her. “Thanks for everything CJ.” I whispered as she hugged me. “I just wanted to see you happy Charlotte” “Oh I am, I am” I replied as I untangled myself from her arms and threw myself back down onto the bed, “and in a few short hours I shall be even happier.” “Not if you don’t get up, sweetheart. Helena and Issy are already here I expect Pippa, Debby and the children will be here soon. Now UP!” “Yes Mother” I groaned.

When she had gone, I flopped back down onto the bed and just lay there for a few moments, letting the memories of the past few weeks wash over me. By the time Simon had returned from a very successful trip, my body had practically healed. I, of course moved back in with him as soon as I could and we began to plan our wedding together. We talked about me dressing in a traditional Indian wedding saree complete with all the trimmings but ever since I had been a little boy, oh, a little girl, well little, I had had dreamed of having a white wedding with me in a beautiful gown. So a white wedding it was. We, of course couldn’t be married in church so we decided upon a civil ceremony in the ground of CJ’s home which would be the perfect setting. Pippa, Issy, Helena and Debby had readily agreed to be my bridesmaids and had had a huge part to play in helping me plan my wedding. Pippa had even agreed to allow little Sophie to be a bridesmaid too, something which she was extremely excited about. Ms Johnson had played her part too, insisting we use the house for both the wedding and the reception. The only thing that was missing for me was my family and, as Charlotte kept telling me, that was there loss and not mine. There was one thing that bothered him though and that was I wouldn’t let him even look at my new vagina, let alone make love to me there and I had two very good reasons for this. One, I wanted to make sure I was completely healed and didn’t want to risk anything going wrong by using my ‘new parts’ to early. But it was the second reason that was more important to me than anything. I decided to stay a ‘vaginal virgin’ until the night of our wedding and fully intended that my virginity be my wedding present to my new husband. No! Simon just had to make do with making love to me like he used to before my operation. I don’t think he really minded about that. I dragged myself out of bed and threw on the dressing gown hanging on the back of the bedroom door and made my way downstairs into the kitchen. There was clutter everywhere; dresses hanging on the backs of doors, flowers and bridal bouquets in boxes. The girls were sat around the kitchen table nursing cups of coffee and they all grinned as I made my entrance. And this was followed by a resounding chorus of ’Here comes the bride, fair fat and wide!” “Oy!” I replied indignantly as I grinned at my friends “I might be fair but I am not fat and wide!!” Any thrust a cup of coffee into one hand a plate with some toast on it into the other and then, with a sharp smack on the bottom, propelled me back towards my room. She grabbed me by the hand and led me back upstairs and into my bedroom. Ordering me to get into the shower and wash and condition my hair, she then disappeared back downstairs to get all her gear. Yes, I could have chosen to go to a salon for my bridal makeover but there had been only one choice for me and I trusted Amy implicitly. As I showered, I checked everything was just as it should be. I had been to the salon just the day before where I had been waxed within an inch of my life. I had even been given a bikini wax! I had just got out of the shower and was dressed in my robe, my hair wrapped in a fluffy white towel, when Pippa and Sophie popped their heads into the bedroom. Sophie just jumped up into my arms and gave me a big sloppy kiss whilst her mother looked on lovingly. “Morning sweetie.” I said as I placed her back on the floor. “Ready to become a little princess?” “Oooh yes Aunty Gufta,” she replied breathlessly using her pet name for me as she had difficulty pronouncing my full name. “Can I wear make up?” “That’s up to your mummy, but I promise you, you will look gorgeous.” “Can I Mummy?” she asked. “We’ll see poppet” said Pippa evasively. “Morning Shagufta. How are you feeling?” “Oh Ok I suppose” I replied. “Ask me again in a couple of hours though. You and the girls are in the room next door. Amy has arranged for one of her friends to do your hair and makeup.” Amy spent a few minutes organising herself before moving a chair onto a dust sheet on the floor. She had me sit down, dressed only in my dressing gown and began by putting my hair into curlers. Soon my whole head was

covered, my hair wrapped tightly around that most feminine of torture instruments. Then she had begun to work on my makeup. She spent ages getting it just right. We had had at least three practice sessions so she knew exactly what colours to use to create a lovely fresh face, innocent virginal eyes, and high cheek bones. She was just putting the finishing touches to my lips when CJ poked her head around the door. “Shagufta, the photographer is here. Can she come in?” “Yes please,” I said smiling at her, nearly smudging my lipstick as Amy held a lip brush against my lips. Sarah Mayberry, the photographer, had come highly recommended and I had agreed to allow her to take some intimate photographs of me getting ready. I wanted to record everything. She began with the most unglamorous of shots of course, me in curlers having my makeover done. Then Amy had shooed her out whilst she finished my hair, leaving it in soft dark curls around my face and shoulders. A simple tiara and veil were then firmly attached and I suddenly felt myself gushing as I began to see myself as a bride for the first time that day. Then it was into my lingerie. A classic white strapless basque (I had avoided a corset thank god) white stockings, panties and garter of course and I was ready for my next photograph. By just before noon, Amy had finished her own hair and makeup and was dashing around, dressed in her own lovely dress, going from one room to another making sure everyone looked utterly gorgeous. Right on schedule though she came back to my room, accompanied by Sarah the photographer, to help me into my dress. It took both of them to lift my dress over my head without ruining my hair and makeup. Then as Amy laced me into my bodice, Sarah snapped away recording how the strapless gown just moulded itself to my body. I couldn’t help but admire myself in the full length mirror as Sarah just snapped away with her camera as Amy touched up my lipstick. I don’t know why, but my legs suddenly felt weak. All my life I had dreamed of being a beautiful bride in a stunning white gown and now, here I was, living the dream. The bodice of my dress simply moulded itself to by upper torso whilst the princess style dress just floated deliciously around my stocking clad thighs and legs. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud as Amy went down on her knees and disappeared under the skirt, clutching a pair of white high heeled shoes that I had forgotten to put on before putting on the dress. It was a good job she was there because I don’t think I could have found my feet amongst all that material. The few last touches came with something old, a pair of antique pearl ear rings, something new, a stunning gold necklace with a single natural pearl, something borrowed, the tiara I was wearing and something blue, my garter firmly wrapped around my thigh. A little perfume and a few moments stood by the window to compose myself and I was ready.

Moments later I made my grand entrance into the living room. CJ was there looking every inch the ‘Mother of the Bride’ in a gorgeous Jovani suit with matching hat. The girls were there as well of course and little Sophie looked utterly scrumptious in her little bridesmaid dress, her golden hair hanging in ringlets around her face. She had even been allowed just a little lip gloss and looked every inch the little princess. Even Greg was there too, in morning suit, looking incredibly handsome and I watched as CJ looked at him with consummate pride, unobserved by anyone else but me. As best man, he seemed to think he needed to try and keep all these beautiful women under control and was failing miserably. It was then that CJ shooed everyone out of the room and took me down into the orangery, obviously wanting a few moments alone with me. “Well Shagufta. You have come a very long way since I first met you in that cafe. I can’t tell you how pleased I am for you darling. One of my greatest joys is to watch a young person like you blossom and come into her own and I can honestly say that you are one of my finest!” “Thank you CJ.” I said softly, glowing with pride. “Now Shagufta, I have one last duty to perform. Just wait there for a moment would you.” I did as she asked and perched myself down on one of the settees, desperately trying not to crease my dress and even though I say so myself, I must have looked utterly adorable, sat there in my pure white wedding gown in that wonderful setting. Moments later CJ reappeared and, looking at me sat there, smiled broadly. “Oh darling!” she whispered breathlessly “Don’t move a muscle. There is someone her to see you. Would you come in please,” she called. I watched not knowing what to expect. And then I was on my feet rushing over to greet to woman who walked into the room, desperately trying not to cry. “Oh mummy! My mummy” I cried and I fell into her arms as she hugged me fiercely. “Oh darling, my Saajid, my darling

child” she said, her own tears falling down her face as she hugged me fiercely in return. “It’s Shagufta now, Mummy. I am a woman now” I whispered unable to believe she was there. Suddenly she pushed me away and holding both my hands, stood back so she could look at me properly. “And you are very very beautiful darling,” she said her eyes darting all over my face. “My God I can hardly believe my eyes.” “But but how? How is it you are here?” “I could hardly miss my own daughter’s wedding now could I?” she grinned as she grabbed a tissue to dry her eyes. “Is Dad here?” “No darling. I need to tell you something. I’ve left him. I couldn’t stand his domineering attitude any more. I couldn’t bare being parted from my lovely child, so I left him.” “But...” I stammered, knowing she couldn’t support herself. She had been a housewife all her life and had no skills, no chance of getting a job and supporting herself. “It was that man of yours, Simon. He came to see your father and me and tried to persuade us to be reconciled with you. Your father threw him out and something snapped and I just followed him out. Simon has arranged everything for me. He has found me a house in Brighton. His lawyers are suing your dad for divorce and I couldn’t be happier.” “Oh Mama” I sighed as I hugged her again and again “and I couldn’t be happier for you too.” Today was going to be a very emotional day!! CJ gave us a few more minutes together before she came back into the room and I knew there had to be one more thing I asked her. “CJ, would you mind very much if my Mum walked me down the aisle instead of you?” I asked her softly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way darling” she said grinning at me. “Now come on, it’s time to get things started. All your guests have assembled in the garden and Simon is here too. I think he might be just a little nervous.” Mum and I followed her down the corridor and into the grand hallway where I gleefully introduced my real mum to all my friends. Then, we organised ourselves into the wedding procession, little Sophie first with her basket of rose petals, my mum and me next and my procession of bridesmaids behind. And then, suddenly everything went quiet. As we walked out into the brilliant sunshine I could see the rows of chairs and the heads of our guests all straining around trying to get a glimpse of the bride. A simple corridor had been left between the chairs making a beautiful flower lined avenue that led to the summer house, also covered with flowers. Slowly we made our way between rows of smiling people although there was one person when steadfastly refused to turn around and look. Simon was standing in front of the registrar with Greg stood supportively beside him. I saw Greg look around and grin then lean forward to whisper something in his ear as I approached. I have to admit

I nearly burst into tears when I eventually arrived at Simon’s side and he at last turned to look at me. The expression on his face was difficult to describe. Relief perhaps, relief that I was actually there, wonderment certainly, wonderment at how beautiful I looked but most of all, love. I don’t remember much of the service itself although I do remember the registrar handling the service beautifully. When he began with the words ’we are gathered here today to bless the union of this man and this woman’ once again I nearly cried. I also remember the words we said to each other, as each of us had composed our own vows. Simon promised to love me forever and to cherish every day that we shared. I told the whole world how proud I was to become his wife and how he was my one true soul mate. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house! And then came the blessing after which we exchanged rings as a sign of our love for each other and the vicar pronounced us, to a thunderous round of applause, husband and wife. Hand in hand we walked back down the aisle, people stopping us to shake Simon’s hand or to kiss my cheek, huge smiles on everyone’s faces. And then it was the interminable photographs with the fixed smiles. Parents, aunts, uncles, friends all wanted to be in the pictures with the proud groom and the radiant bride and I adored being the centre of attention. The rest of the day passed in somewhat of a blur. There was food and champagne, toasts and speeches. We managed to squeeze Mum in next to Bumpah and within minutes they were chatting away like long lost friends and I jsut hoped that Mum remembered to keep her promise about not revealing my secret to her. And of course there was dancing, dancing and more dancing.

And I, the bride, was the undeniable centre of attention. I just didn’t want it to end. It was half way through one of these dances that Greg cut in. As best man I suppose it was his prerogative to dance at least once with the bride. I laughed and I giggled as he swung me around and once again thanked him for being my saviour, remembering just how brave he had been when he and Simon came to my rescue. And then as we danced more slowly, there was just something I had to ask him. “Greg, you tell me to mind my own business if you want, but I just have to know. Do you love CJ?” “With all my heart Shagufta,” he said simply, a sigh escaping from his mouth. “Well why don’t you do something about it? Ask her to marry you.” “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it Shagufta” he said miserably. “But why would she want to marry a grunt like me?” “Maybe because she loves you back. You’ll never know unless you ask her.”

“Perhaps” he said thoughtfully and with that Simon returned to reclaim his bride. Interestingly though, as Simon swung me around slowly I saw Greg march over to CJ, grab her by the hand and, before she could object, he dragged her forcefully out into the garden. It was round 9 pm, just after a light buffet supper had been served, that CJ, hand in hand with Greg, dragged Simon and I away from the party for a few minutes. She looked so elegant, so beautiful in her suit and was bursting with something important she wanted to tell us. “I am extremely angry with you Shagufta” she began, trying desperately to keep a straight face. “This is all your fault!” “What is?” I asked innocently. “Greg has asked me to marry him and I said yes.” squealed CJ in a very uncharacteristic fashion, unable to contain her excitement any longer. And just for a few moments then, I was no longer the centre of attention, not that I cared in the least. The news just made my day even more special. It was a little after 11 pm when Simon finally dragged me away from the party and, even then, I was reluctant to leave. But at the same time I was excited too. My whole life had been building up to this moment, the ultimate expression of my femininity, making love to my husband. All the guests congregated outside the house as Simon and I climbed into his car, now festooned with balloons and confetti. We said our goodbyes and there were kisses and hugs and tears before we were allowed to leave some thirty minutes later. The moment the door was closed in our hotel room, I was in his arms, kissing and hugging my darling husband. This was what I had dreamed of for so long, and as we kissed, I could feel his arousal even through the myriad of satin. Even though there was no music, we danced some, more this time our lips never parting though. “I love you wife” Simon said eventually as he pushed me away a little “And I love you husband.” And then I suddenly had a wicked thought. Slowly and gracefully I sank to my knees, my dress pooling around me, my veil still hanging loose around my back. I heard Simon groan as I reached for his cock. Slowly I unzipped his trousers and pulled it forth and I glanced up to see the look of amazement on my lovers face as his beautiful bride took his cock into her mouth whilst still dressed in her stunning, brilliant white gown. God he was so hard, so expectant that I found it difficult pulling his cock down far enough to get it between my lips. Within moments though, he was lifting me from him, indicating that I should stand. Smiling, I turned my back to him and lifted my hair out of the way so he could unlace my dress and soon it was pooled on the ground around my feet so I was only dressed in the sumptuous white lingerie. Simon just grinned as I carefully picked up my dress and with a wiggle of my hips walked over to wardrobe to hang it up, his eyes feasting on my lingerie clad body. I have to admit, I had thought of staying dressed that way whilst Simon made love to me. But I had had a really wicked and sexy idea sometime before my wedding and was determined to see it through. Sexily, I went over to our suitcase and extracted a little back, hardly big enough to house even a scrap of material. “I’ll just be a moment darling” I said as I sashayed over to the bathroom “make yourself comfortable” I continued indicating the bed.

It took but a few moments to strip out of my lingerie and to put on the one garment I had brought for this very moment. Simon was knelt on the bed, dressed only in his underpants when I walked sensuously into the bedroom. His reaction was everything I could have hoped for when he saw me. His eyes widened, his mouth dropped and then he grinned as he saw what I was wearing. All I had on was a wide strip of white satin ribbon tied in a bow around my cute little bottom. “Simon” I said softly “I think it is time that you unwrapped your wedding present, don’t you?” He stood and came over to me and took me in his arms and kissed me, slowly, tenderly and all the time he was looking at me with open eyes that simply professed his love. And, as he kissed me, his hands reached up for my hair, hunting for the hairclips that held my curls up high on my head. Strand by strand he pulled my hair down, loose over my shoulders his fingers combing through my locks as he did so. Then slowly he turned me around, his lips finding that sensitive spot on my neck as his trembling fingers found the end of the bow holding the secret to his present. Agonisingly slowly he pulled and I felt the satin begin to move on my skin until, finally I felt it come loose and drop to the ground. Then in one swift smooth motion he just picked me up and carried me over to the bed and laid me down on the covers. I watched as his pants were quickly discarded and smiled to myself as I saw his cock standing proud and hard. Then he came to me on the bed, lying next to me, his arm across my stomach, his hand just under my breast, his head tantalisingly close to my own. “God, you are so beautiful” he whispered as he once again pressed his lips against mine. We kissed and we kissed, our tongues exploring each other’s mouth, our hands exploring each other’s bodies, neither of us wanting to hurry the moment. My eyes closed, I felt Simon move away from me. His lips found the side of my neck, his mouth found each of my nipples sucking them into hard nubs of flesh causing me to moan with delight. Then he began to move further down my body. He licked, he lapped causing me to gasp in sensual pain as my stomach muscles contracted involuntarily. Still he moved lower, his hands pushing my legs apart and I knew then exactly what he had in mind.

Just for a moment he paused to look at me, his eyes wide with delight as he saw my vagina properly for the first time. To my mind it was the most wonderful, perfect creation a woman like me could ever wish to have and I knew my puckered lips would be pink and engorged with blood. And then Simon just dipped his head and kissed me there and I heard myself hiss as the pleasure of his touch flooded my body. He kissed, he lapped, he smothered my sex with his own saliva as he dipped his tongue into my folds. Now I was moaning, unable to stop myself from voicing how I felt. I had never felt anything so incredible. Then it happened. I simply couldn’t help myself. Somehow he found the little nub of flesh so skilfully crafted for me from the nerve ending of my penis and my whole body exploded in orgasm, my back arching as I ground my vagina into his mouth. Simon just sucked and sucked and sucked, waiting for my orgasm to subside before, grinning he came back to lie next to me. “Oh my!” he said softly as he nibbled my lips “who would ever have thought you would be so sensitive.” I lay there panting for a moment, waiting for my heart to stop pounding. I swallowed hard, trying to regain my senses before I pushed him away from me and onto his back. This time it was my turn so, slowly, I worked my way down his body, my long dark hair tickling his skin as my lips caressed every part of his body. I soon found myself holding his penis, teasing it with my tongue just as he had teased me. This time I heard him hiss with pleasure as I dipped just the very tip of my tongue into its single eye and I knew I had won a little victory over him when he took my head in his hands and tried to guide my mouth onto his cock.

I wasn’t about to disappoint him. Very very slowly, I opened my mouth and allowed just the crown of his wonder prick to slip between my lips. I held him with my hand then, as I began to suck him, knowing that he would be watching his beautiful bride with his cock in her mouth. Faster and faster I began to suck him all the time taking him deeper and longer into the back of my throat. Simon now was groaning and his pleasure grew and it took just a few moments before he was reaching for me and pulling my head away from him. I looked up, his cock still in my hand, to see he was fighting for control, not wanting to cum too soon and I just smiled a wicked smile. I really hadn’t planned how this moment would go but now I knew, now I realised that I just needed to be in control when he entered me for the first time. Slowly I straddled him with my legs, feeling his immense length as it nestled under the lips of my vagina and reaching down I took hold of him in my hand. Slowly I lifted myself up and positioned myself over his cock, pulling apart the lips of my vagina with my other hand. The sensation of him entering me was everything I had hoped it would be. There was no pain, only intense pleasure as I slowly lowered myself down onto him. Deeper and deeper he went, allaying my fears that I would not be able to take all of him and soon the very tip of his cock felt as if it were spearing my heart. I heard myself gasping and hissing through my teeth and slowly as I felt myself relax, I was able to open my eyes and look at my lover. Simon was just lying there absolutely still, his concerned eyes studying my face. I just smiled, my biggest, widest smile that simply told him everything was so much better that just all right. We sat that way for some time, his hands on my breasts my hands running through my hair as I arched my back, enjoying the incredible sensations that were flowing through me. Slowly I leant forward and kissed him hard on the mouth. It was Simon who made the next move, unable to wait any longer. In a display of strength, he simply wrapped his arms around me and flipped me over onto my back, his cock never leaving me for a moment. And then he began to move, and then he began to fuck me, and then he began to make me a woman in every respect. Faster and faster his hips began to move, his glorious cock grinding passionately into my vagina and with each thrust his skin rubbed deliciously against my clit and within moments I was panting and moaning,

my second orgasm rapidly approaching. When I did cum, it was so much more than I could ever have expected, so much more than anything I had experienced as a man. I heard myself shriek out loud as wave after wave after wave of prolonged pleasure flooded my body. My whole body arched upwards pushing up hard against Simon as my orgasm seemed to go on and on and on. And then it was his turn as he too, came long and hard, his seed pulsing deep into my vagina. I felt every spurt, every tiny twitch, every throbbing vein as he groaned out loud, his voice matching my own in it release. We lay like that for some time as we both recovered ourselves and I felt Simon begin to soften inside me. I couldn’t help but giggle as I tried to squeeze his cock with the walls of my vagina in an effort to keep him hard. However Simon just slipped out of me and moved so he could cuddle me from behind, his hand resting deliciously on my breast. We didn’t need to speak the words for we both knew something incredible had just happened. After all that time, after all his patience, he had made love to me as a man should make love to his wife and my life was now complete. Epilogue It was about three months after we returned from honeymoon. Simon was back at sea with his racing crew and I was all alone in the big house. Not that I was lonely for there was a constant stream of visitors and, now that Mum had moved down to Brighton, I could see her regularly too. But that had not been enough for me. With Simon’s backing I had started my own business, importing exclusive designer sarees and selling them through a web site of my own design. The business had been an overnight success and I was soon selling not only to the wealthy Asian community but also too many European women, where sarees had become a new fashion must have. I was so busy that I had even taken on staff to manage the stock in my own small industrial unit. Simon had even suggested that I try designing my own range but that was something I needed to think about before attempting. It was on a quiet Saturday morning though, when I got the call from CJ. “Shagufta, thank goodness you are in” she said breathlessly. “I have a real problem and I need your help darling.” “What is it? It’s not Greg, is it?” I asked now quite worried “That big lummox. No, he’s perfectly wonderful. I can’t explain over the phone but I was wondering if you could come round to the house as a matter of urgency.” “Yes of course I can CJ” I replied. “Oh and can you wear something traditional, one of your lovely Sarees perhaps. I ran upstairs and quickly changed into one of my own pretty imports. One of the perks of ordering stock was that I was often given samples and my personal collection was growing so rapidly that Simon was grumbling about building an extension just to house my wardrobe. Anyway, I was on the road by 10 am and pulling into CJ’s by 11. Charlotte was in the kitchen when I arrived, nursing a cup of coffee and, looking immaculate as usual. She smiled broadly as I walked in and sat next to her. “Married life obviously suits you Shagufta. You look wonderful.” She said as she leant forward and kissed me on the cheek. “So what’s the problem?” “Follow me and I will show you.”

I followed her up those familiar stairs and down the landing towards my old bedroom. as we approached the door, Amy came flying out, closing the door behind her, just as there was a loud thud of something heavy being thrown. “Hot sure about this one CJ” she grimaced as she looked up. “Oh hi Shagufta. Thank God you are here.” “I take it that a new recruit is not co-operating,” I said, “but why call me?” “Because she is from India too. I thought a friendly face might help.” “I’m not sure what I can do but I will give it a try if you want.” “We want!” the two women said together. “Right, you two go downstairs and leave me on my own. Oh by the way, what was his boy’s name. “Tarik” replied as she walked down the corridor. I waited for a few minutes until everything seemed quiet in the room. Then I knocked softly and using my best Indian accent called out. “Tarik, my name is Shagufta Weston. May I come in?” “Fuck Off!” came the inevitable reply. Slowly, I turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open a fraction. Sat on the bed was someone who looked like a young woman, her body covered loosely in a satin dressing gown. Her long unkempt hair was hanging over her shoulders and face so it was difficult to really see what she looked like. “Who are you?” he said as she looked up anger flashing in his eyes. “I thought I told you to fuck off.” “Like I said Tarik, my name is Shagufta Weston. I was wondering if I might have a word with you. Just a word, nothing more.” “Like I care. Are you one of these bastards? Look what they have done to me!” he shouted, pulling open his dressing gown to reveal lovely pert breasts perched high on his chest. Slowly, I walked over to the bed and sat down next to him. Perhaps it was because I was dressed as an Indian woman or perhaps it was because I adopted a very non threatening and demure posture, who knows, but Tarik didn’t freak or scream or shout. He just sat there eyeing me suspiciously. “To answer your question Tarik, no I am not one of those bastards who have done this to you.” “Who are you then?” he asked suspiciously. “My name is Shagufta and, just over a year ago, it was me that was sitting where you are sitting.” Then the floodgates opened. He just threw his arms around my neck and cried and cried and cried, soaking my saree with his tears. And when he had cried himself out, I asked him a simple question. “So what is your name, your real name sweetie?” “Tamira,” she whispered.


A Story On SRS,Wedding And Many More...

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