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“Looks like someone made a mess.” Grant chuckled. Ian looked down. They could both see his stained panties. His tiny prick was soft again. Covered in cum. Resting in its lace crib. “Clean it up, sissy.” There was a menace in Grants voice. One that Ian had no will to defy. With a lump in his throat and a weight in the pit of his stomach, Ian pulled off the soiled panties. Lifting them to his face. He could clearly see the pale slime. He grimaced as he brought indian them to his lips. Slurping up the disgusting, bitter mess. Tasting cum for the first time. His cum. He could hear Grant chuckle, but not see him. Not through the lace as he cleaned it throughly. “Good enough, you sop. Get changed and go home. From now on you dress in your new uniforms as soon as you arrive. Understand?” Ian nodded. “And you stay shaved. Or else Amy will help you again.” Ian stumbled out of his bosses office. Nearly twisting an ankle in his strappy high heels. “Practice more.” The laughing Alpha called after him. The next morning Ian found more lingerie waiting for him when he got to work. This time the theme seemed to be pink. Pink stockings with little blue bows at the top. My futa-dick throbbed into her belly. In my office, I found my box of personal items on the credenza behind the desk. “You didn’t convince me, Mother, I’m sorry.” I said, reaching once again into my bag, “While I believe you want your breasts stimulated, I don’t think you want me to do it.” I pulled out my next instrument. Amit stopped the movement of his fingers and Jaya took over. We didn’t bother with her bra and knickers and in the end we left them in the bar as a souvenir for someone to collect. Which red-blooded hetrosexual male wouldnt?" "And it was delicious, now relax and rest, you can pay me back later." His finger was on the trigger. Many others went to their indian rooms to have their own fun. I yawned again. "But, do you want to hear my opinion on the matter? Without even thinking I placed my left hand on her lap, more out of an attempt to get her to move than anything but completely subconsciously. Knock on the window when you’re done and you’ll feel better.’