In the Waiting Room of Doctor Miriam Straight
by Prim

"Of course you're going to orgasm. It's your hobble skirt, idiot!" Bridget Wrench manoeuvred her husband along the corridor. Just a couple of yards to go, which meant twenty miniature steps in his patent high heels and narrow skirt reaching to his ankles, before they got to Doctor Straight's clinic. He would have stopped if he could, to let his passion cool down, but his wife kept him stepping and slithering in his figure hugging pencil skirt. "I won't make it, Bridget. My cock... it's... Oh, have pity on me. It's my s-s-satin panties and slip, ins-s-side the slippery lining of my s-s-skiiiirrt-oooohhhhh!" Bridget was fully aware of his knee-length satin pantalettes and slip. Her eyes could see the effect of his little steps: the helpless pointed bulb-shape sliding an inch or two to left and right in the thick duchesse satin of his pink skirt. She couldn't help but snigger: if he was foolish enough to ejaculate when he was in Doctor Straight's clinic, he would be caned while still in his skirt, and he knew from last week how painful an experience that would be. Her young husband's hair flicked prettily around his cheeks as peaks of arousal drove him to distraction. With his hands buttoned into the inside sleeves of his hobble skirt, he might easily throw himself to the floor, wriggling frantically in his distraction. "Nurse! Quickly! He's getting excited!" Bridget held the door open with her back as she held onto her whimpering husband. Nurse Powers hurried from her reception desk and held him up by what could be seen of his other arm. "Get inside, sissy," she cried into his ear, "and don't you DARE make a mess of your panties before Doctor Straight can inspect your useless prick." Between them the two women guided his tiny steps towards the chair in the waiting room. "I... I can't help it, Bridget," he squeaked as his skirt and pencil slip slid mercilessly across the pointing head of his penis. "Ohhhhh! ... Please stop! ... It's com-m-m-ming!" "Be quiet in the doctor's clinic!" ordered his wife. "Nurse, plug his mouth with a gag, quickly." His wife sank onto the chair and Jeremy clenched his groin in desperation as the nurse lowered his skirted backside into Bridget's lap. "Oh please... undo my skirt, Nurse... I beg you... It's too tight round my priva... Oooohhhh! It's going to..." "Shut... your... face, you WORM!" said Nurse Powers, her face in a snarl as she forced a ball between the patient's teeth and pulled the straps tight to buckle him into it above the neck of his blouse. "What you need is tight skirting in RUBBER! I've got the very thing for a wimp like you." Jeremy Wrench's whimpers became pathetic little hums behind his gag as his wife's hand smoothed round the pointed front of his skirt. His horrors doubled as he heard the ripple and slither of Nurse Powers returning, and his heart leapt with fright at the long rubber skirt that she opened out ready for him. His strength abandoned him and his cock jerked in surrender as pulses of cum squeezed their way through the satin gusset of his feminine pantalettes. "He's doing it, the slut... the pig!" cried his wife as she and Nurse Powers saw the knob shaped point of his skirt pumping in little slides of juice. "You idiot! You sissy little jerk! You'll get the hiding you deserve!" cried Bridget as the pink satin around one of his skirt buttons grew into a wet patch and a dome of white jism seeped into sight as hums of blissful pleasure wheedled from behind the bow at his throat. "I'll take it from here, Nurse," came the firm voice of Doctor Straight. "Evidently a case for severe caning and tighter safeguards to prevent orgasm until I can indoctrinate him completely into skirt worship." "I've done exactly what you told me last week, Doctor," said Bridget, shaking her head and fondling her husband where the shaft of his penis stood stiffly imprinted in the wet satin. "A climax every hour while he is wearing one of his pencil skirts. This is the first time he has had an extra 'cum' between his normal ones." The doctor shook her head as Bridget and the nurse got him up onto his high heels and led him limply in one-inch steps towards the medical room. "It's not your fault my dear lady. Some male specimens are so sissy they can't follow a simple pattern of forced feminisation, and have to get there by their own deviant route. Your husband needs to be shown who is in control of his sexuality. He was due to be put into a control girdle this week anyway. I'll simply make it a deeper and tighter belt than it would normally have been for his intimidation." A pungent mixture of rubber and perfume filled the nostrils of the sissy husband. He whimpered with fright behind his ball gag as Bridget and the nurse laid him face down over the punishment bench, fastening him with belts over his back and the backs of his knees to prevent him sliding on the shiny black rubber. "You will learn your position of inferiority towards you wife and your lady superiors, little boy," he heard as the doctor selected a crook handled cane and flexed it beside him. He saw it as she slapped it against the white rubber of her medical gown. "Skirt his face in a pencil slip of white polyester, Nurse," he heard, and the next thing, his face was surrounded with white, slithering and pulling as the elastic waist cinched his neck and small petticoat buttons were fastened over the back of his head in a tube of narrow silk. A moment later the bite of the cane stung his skirted buttocks, again and again, as he served his punishment for juicing one extra time without permission inside his delicious pencil skirts. ***

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