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I reluctantly let go of Master’s hand and walked over the row of chairs. I knew my ass would hurt if I sat down. I was slowly lowering myself down, when Master turned to me and laughed. I was hovering over the chair, postponing contact with it for as long as I could. My ass was sticking out, my knees were bent. “What are you doing, slut?” I stood up at his use of the word in public. “I uh—’ “Is there something wrong with the chair?” he asked smiling. “No, Sir. Nothing with the chair…” I said, my face flushing to match the glow in my ass. He stopped smiling and said, “SIT DOWN.” His voice was so stern, I sat down like a shot. Tiny spears of pain shot through my ass cheeks and thighs as I made contact with the chair. Master continued talking with the desk nurse as I saw stars in front of my eyes. I breathed and relaxed my muscles. The chair felt cool. The initial pain subsided, but the deeper muscle pain persisted. Despite the pain, I felt my pussy start to fill. The desk nurse was. Jerome put them on hangers and hung them on a rack. Once half naked, I had to sit and let Jerome work conditioner into my hair, brush it out and tie it with the silk bow. So far, so good, said the jumper passing the 20th floor. The face makeup was minimal—eye liner and lip gloss. The underwear was not. It took both of them to pull my corset tight.My first reaction was panic, but Dr. Richards took over. Christine had a surprise. Instead of socks, she had rolled silk stockings, with garters. Jerome said nothing, but he was clearly in on the joke. When I bit off my reaction, I saw a trace of approval in their expressions. As I put on the trousers, the boots, the pleated shirt, the waistcoat, the jacket, I felt increasingly that I had passed a test of some sort.There was more—cufflinks, handkerchief, gloves, top hat, walking stick. Once Jerome tied the neck bow, I thought I was finished, but Christine pulled out a jewelry box. I recognized it immediately. It contained a pair of ruby ear.
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