The Collector Ch. 01

Wendy wound her way down the hallway to the front door while Charlotte remained in the lounge room. When Charlotte had the house to herself she practiced walking properly in her mother's high heels until she was adept enough to saunter from room to room. She had a thoroughly enjoyable evening in her new found persona and in the early morning reluctantly removed her makeup and nailpolish and kicked off her heels. She went to bed wearing everything else.

And so a new chapter started in Charles' life. He became Charlotte at any opportunity that presented itself. Charlotte practised her makeup skills; worked hard at dressing as feminine as possible, walking like a lady and talking like a lady.

She tried on her mother's dresses, skirts and blouses, and accessorised with jewellery and clip-on earrings.

Charlotte was indistinguishable from any of the girls living nearby and prettier than most of them. Her small feet were her only drawback; she wished that she could summon the courage to buy a pair of heels that fit her but there was no way that was possible.

In 1950s Britain boys did not purchase ladies shoes.

The inevitable happened when Reginald and Wendy arrived home unexpected one afternoon. They had only been gone for an hour or two and were expected to be gone overnight, staying at Lord Cavendish's estate in the Cotswolds. The argument that began just as they had left home had become a screaming match not much later; Wendy had found further evidence of Reginald's infidelity.

Charlotte was engrossed in her own world, twirling around the parlour with an imaginary paramour, the loud music from the gramophone had masked the sound of the car pulling up outside the house and the entrance of his distraught mother and angry father.

Their bawling and shouting announced their presence but it was too late for Charlotte. She was caught red handed.

The recriminations and counter recriminations sallied back and forth. Reginald threw his effeminate offspring against the wall and then made to punch Charles in the face.

Wendy threw herself between her husband and her son to protect her only progeny.

"This is all your fault! You mothered the boy and treated him like a girl; no wonder he never hardened up!"

"Look at the pathetic little Nancy-boy sniveller! He looks like he belongs with the catamites and rent boys down in Soho," Reginald reached around his wife and clipped Charles around the ear.

He pushed Wendy aside and began to shake Charles by the shoulders.

"How did you learn to dress like this? Is someone putting their cock to you?" Reginald threw Charles against the wall.

"Answer me you fag!" Reginald roared.

Charles looked at his mother and saw the look of trepidation and anxiousness on her face. She pleaded soundlessly with her son.

"I'm not Charles when I'm dressed like this. I'm Charlotte! And nobody taught me; I learned to dress like this myself. I don't want to be Charles any longer! I want to be Charlotte!" she cried out indignantly.

Charlotte did not know where the courage came from to answer her father like that. Years of being repressed, oppressed, beaten and bullied had finally taken their toll and roused her spirit; provoking her to retaliate.

A wicked grin crossed Reginald's face.

"And then so it shall be! Come with me!" Reginald grabbed Charlotte in a vice-like grip and dragged her across the room, out the parlour and upstairs.

Charlotte lost her shoes and half staggered and was half dragged up to her room. Reginald dragged a small suitcase off the top of the wardrobe.

"You won't need any of this lot will you harlot," Reginald pulled the wardrobe forward and it smashed down on the floor.

"It's full of useless boys clothes. Let's go see what your mother can spare," he roared.

Wendy stood at the door crying and pleading with her husband to be gentle with her boy.

"I blame you for this; you dozy bint! He's a fucking disgrace to the family!" Reginald dragged Charlotte past Wendy hauling the suitcase in his other hand.

He dragged Charlotte to the master bedroom and began throwing his wife's lingerie and clothes onto the floor. He swept her makeup off the vanity table.

"Here! Help yourself you pathetic closet queen! I paid for all of this so take what you want," he threw Charlotte to the floor.

Charlotte was sobbing uncontrollably as she scrambled through the mound of clothing and underwear and shoved articles that she thought would fit her into the suitcase followed by some her mother's cosmetics. Wendy tried to go to her aid but Reginald spun her by the wrist and threw her on the bed.

"If you'd spent more time on that fucking bed with your legs open waiting for me instead of drinking and going out with your friends and mollycoddling this homo, I might have a son instead of this girly-boy," he growled.

Reginald reefed the suitcase out of Charlotte's grip and slammed it shut then began to drag her down the stairs. Wendy scrambled off the bed and followed.

Don't do this Reginald! For god's sake please don't do this! Don't throw our only child out onto the streets!" Wendy implored her husband.

"Shut up you whining harpy! I'll throw you out too if you don't fuck off back to the bedroom where I told you to stay! Get your arse up there, get on the bed, hike up your skirt, take off your knickers and open your legs and wait for my return! The other option is to join this pathetic transvestite on the streets!" Reginald roared.

Reginald pushed Charlotte out the door, threw the suitcase after her and then tossed the high heels she had been wearing through the door before he slammed it shut.

The suitcase burst open and Charlotte had to suffer the added indignity of raking together the pathetic pile of clothes and makeup and shovelling them back into the case.

She walked away from her family home with absolutely no idea where to go or how she was going to fend for herself.

Lord Edward Tilsbury found her in the railway underpass tunnel a week later. One of his many 'spotters', to whom he paid a substantial reward if their information yielded fruit, had seen her living there, barely getting by on handouts from strangers.

Three months later...

Charlotte put her eye to the keyhole.

Edward was at his desk writing, dipping his pen in the inkwell and swiftly returning it to the document he was working on so very fastidiously.

Edward's bedroom was gloomy; the only light came from his desk lamp and the keyhole restricted Charlotte's field of view. She could see only the area in front of the door; the bed itself and the ensuite bathroom were obscured.

Mary went behind a screen set up in the corner and when she emerged she had taken off the heavy, green, cut-velvet evening gown; the evening uniform for the 'Acolytes of the Circle'. She emerged wearing a black and red basque, the bodice of which pushed up and supported her breasts and cinched her waist. It tied in the back and six black satin suspenders snaked down her legs clipped to the welts of her fully-fashioned black silk stockings. The basque was constructed of red satin with a black lace decoration and whilst the bodice ended at the bottom of her hips, a black lace ruffle running around the bottom of the garment obscured her pubis and her derriere.

Devoid of her gown, Charlotte could now see that Mary did indeed have the voluptuous hourglass figure and long legs that she suspected Mary kept hidden under her everyday clothes.

Mary poured Edward a glass of port from the crystal decanter he kept on a side table and walked over to where he sat working at his desk.

Edward sat on a small bench rather than an office chair; the bench was a little larger than a piano stool and Mary sat beside him and put down the drink. Edward ignored her and kept writing.

Mary stood and ruffled her fingers through his thick hair and then ran her hands down his neck to his shoulders; stroking and caressing him as she did. She bent and whispered in his ear seductively.

"Would you like relief tonight master?"

Charlotte felt the beginnings of an erection growing in her knickers.

"You can see that I'm busy," Edward barely acknowledged her, even as she massaged his shoulders.

"Yes you are busy now master; but when you have finished you will want your usual service from me before you retire and you will awaken me regardless of the time," Mary leaned down and nuzzled his neck.

"You're distracting me Mary," Edward growled.

"We can just do that thing you sometimes like to do while you are still clothed," she nibbled on his ear incitingly.

"Very well. I've lost my train of thought anyway," he said, sounding irritated.

Edward picked up his port and spun around on the bench. He was still wearing the heavy trousers that he had worn to dinner but had vested himself of his frockcoat and wore only his waistcoat and shirt.

Mary stood in front of him, just out of arm's reach. Charlotte could only see Mary from the rear now. She admired what little she could see of Mary. Her dark ginger mane flowed down her back; the nape resting on the back of the corset where it was cinched at her waist. Her ample derriere, the creamy white flesh above the dark welts of her stockings, the backseams perfectly aligned along the centre of her legs and her feet shod in the black stiletto heels were a delight to behold.

Mary had Edward's full attention now. She spun on her heels and bent at the waist; offering him her bottom. Edward smiled but made no attempt to gasp the luscious buttocks being proffered.

Mary snapped her head up and looked directly at the door; her green eyes narrowed and she grinned. Charlotte gasped and pulled away from the keyhole.

Had she been seen?

Charlotte nervously placed her eye to the keyhole again. Mary was looking at her; smiling. Mary winked and Charlotte pulled away again in astonishment. But she couldn't not look. She put her eye back to the keyhole.

Mary was wriggling her buttocks seductively whilst Edward just sat and watched; drinking his port. Charlotte didn't understand why Edward didn't just reach out take the proffered prize. Then it dawned on her; it was some kind of ritual.

Mary spun around so that she was facing Edward and slowly and seductively approached him but he still made no advances towards her. He sat rigidly on the seat enamoured by her performance but choosing to not actively participate. She leaned into him, pushing her bosom into his chest and nipping at his earlobe. Edward hissed but remained otherwise motionless.

Mary pirouetted again and this time looked directly at the keyhole with a beatific smile on her face. She slowly lowered herself into Edward's lap, wriggling her buttocks as she kept her weight on her heels.

Edward grunted again and closed his eyes briefly.

"Shall I unbutton you?" Mary whispered but looked directly at Charlotte.

"No you may not," Edward sighed.

Charlotte was fully erect and slowly stroking herself through the satin directoire knickers that she had to wear to bed.

Mary twirled in Edward's lap so that she faced him; her legs spread either side of his body, heels flat on the floor. She leaned in to kiss him and Edward turned away.

"You may not do that either," he breathed.

Mary placed her cheek against his and pushed her bosom into his chest and began to writhe. Edward allowed her to do so for a beat and then his hands rose to her waist.

"Turn!" he commanded.

Mary twisted in his lap so that she once again she faced the door.

"Unbutton me!" he ordered.

Mary tottered on her high heels precariously as she lifted her derriere and reached behind herself to unbutton Edward's flies.

A bead of sweat formed on Charlotte's upper lip despite the cold as she gripped her penis in the gathering folds of her knickers and slowly stroked herself.

Although Charlotte couldn't see it from her point of view, she knew that Edward's erect penis was sitting up rampant from the pleat of his trousers.

Mary put a hand under the ruffled hem of her basque.

Charlotte didn't really know what was under there; she had never seen a woman's sex but she knew that it had some sort of fleshy folds that led to a moist channel. Some of the upper-classmen at Harrow had inferred that it smelt fishy but Charlotte knew this was an old wives tale. She had inhaled the aroma of her mother's knickers on many occasions and the smell was delightful and exotic.

What she did know was that Mary had to be wearing tight knickers, panties they were sometimes called, and that the front of them would be a smooth rounded V covering her pubis. Charlotte had once observed this when her mother had inadvertently let little Charles into her boudoir whilst she was dressing and had not closed her robe sufficiently to preclude his inquisitive gaze.

Charlotte so wanted to have that smooth, sleek, curved appearance at the front when she wore tight knickers; not the unsightly bulge she was currently blighted with.

Mary was fumbling with her knickers; easing the gusset aside. A smile crossed her face.

Mary beamed a beatific smile across the room to Charlotte as she slowly lowered herself onto Edward's appendage.

"Mm," Edward grunted when Mary was fully impaled on his tumescence and her buttocks rested in his lap.

He placed his hands on Mary's hips and lifted her slightly; she wriggled her hips as he did.

"Don't!" Edward chastised her.

Mary stopped wriggling but she had a mischievous grin on her face.

"Now!" Edward pulled Mary down onto him and held her there.

His fingers dug into her waist and he forced her buttocks hard against him.

"Oh! Yes! That's it!" Edward hissed through gritted teeth.

Charlotte orgasmed with Edward; soiling the front of her drawers.

As Edward emptied himself into Mary; Charlotte was overwhelmed by the intensity of her own orgasm. The deep sensual feeling of tingling delight emanated from the glans of her penis, intensified by the slick feel of her silken knickers, ran down her shaft and radiated out from her scrotum.

As Edward's immense climax surged through his body; so did Charlotte's.

Mary grinned as she felt Edward's huge phallus pulsate inside her, ejaculating, and filling her vagina with his hot seed. She wanted to grind and wriggle in his lap but she knew this was not part of the ritual and would detract form his enjoyment. She would pleasure herself later in bed.

Charlotte fell to her knees; the enormity of her sexual apogee causing her almost to faint.

The doorknob rattled and the door thudded as she fell against it unable to control her body's response to the sexual thrill and delightful sensations that coursed through her flesh.

She curled up on the cold flagstones quivering; but she quickly realised that she had likely given her presence away.

"Who's there?" she heard Edward call.

Edward whipped Mary out of his lap, his erection stood proud from his flies. He pushed it inside his trousers as he strode to the door, stopping briefly to do up enough buttons to keep his manhood contained.

He flung open the door and peered down into the gloom. The granite walls flickered with dim shadows created by the meagre light coming through the open door.

Charlotte had stopped just around the corner; she pressed her back against the granite blocks, feeling the cold through her flimsy satin nightgown and stockinged feet. She held her breath and prayed.

Edward glanced down and saw three little droplets on the flagstones glistening in the lamplight. He grinned.

He closed the door and turned around.

Mary was sprawled on the floor where he had dumped her; she was wiping her sex with a silk handkerchief that she had stuffed in her bodice just for this task.

"Charlotte?" Edward raised a brow inquiringly.

Mary smiled and nodded.

"She needs to learn," Mary replied.

"Not too much too soon though," Edward advised and strode back to his desk.

He picked up his pen and began to scribble as if nothing had happened.

"Pour me another and then your duties here are complete," he droned, not looking up from his work.

Mary went behind the screen and struggled back into her dress; she left it uncinched at the back. She filled the glass with port and placed it beside Edward. He didn't register her presence.

She took off her high heels and padded out of the room. She did not want the click-clacking of her heels on the stone floor to disturb those sleeping in the dormitories as she passed.

When Edward heard the door close behind him he smiled wolfishly.

"Good girls," he whispered to the silent empty room and went back to his work.

To be continued