With a touch of fear

Jesse lay face down in the darkness of someone else's pillow. He didn't dare lift his head up or crane his neck around to see what the room's other occupant was doing, but listened intently to the rustle of her movements. Somehow, he felt more nervously out of his element here… than riding the Maglev on some stranger's lap without underwear, or being groped around a seaside resort by John and Miranda. Those scenarios seemed to happen to the 1st Class Sissy Slutwife-in-training. The other him, that was sometimes a her… and who was learning a thousand new things a second, about themself and the world at large. While, within these walls, he had so much timid history and connected gossip. He felt just like his younger self, forever tucked behind Betsy's skirt-tails and trying not to be noticed. Cynthia was one of those demons who had danced upon the edge of the campfire, forever being whisperingly bitched about by the girls he knew as friends. So to be left alone in a room with her was terrifying, despite them never really having had more than a passing encounter before.

He felt the mattress move as the girl clambered up onto the bed with him. A mix of heady smells had begun to fill the room; some sort of incense she had lit. Without parade or warning, the sissy felt his skirt and socks be stripped downwards off his legs, leaving his bottom half completely exposed and unprotected. His tightly-cropped blouse soon followed suit, with a sharp tug indicating he should raise his arms and allow it to happen. Jesse's long, brown hair cascaded softly around his neck as its clips and ties were removed and he was left completely naked at the hands of this oft-reported banshee. He shivered to feel her straddling his legs, presumably looking down upon his small and tender frame. The snap of a bottle cap opening nearly made him jump out of his skin... and the tiny, liquid sounds of hands being oiled didn't offer much reassurance. He wondered if she could feel just how on edge and nervous he was, laid out before her and trapped between those knees. He wondered if that would put a cruel smirk on the face of this young woman whose forked tongue had brought at least half the block to tears, at one point or another.

The scared little sissy felt her lean down close and murmur straight into his ear:

"Don't worry honey. I'm not going to hurt you…"

Which did not reassure him in the slightest.

Then he felt those long, slender fingers set to work spreading a warm, slimy substance across all of his back. It was strangely electrifying, to have his senses wound up so tightly and then medically and methodically danced across. He kept trying to anticipate wherever those hands might head next.. then being caught out whenever they moved somewhere unexpected. Soon every inch of his body that could be reached was lathered in oil, but none of the movements had been anything other than direct and professional… even when she had slipped down between his thighs and up between his rosy buttocks. The disconnect with what he expected, as an object of almost continual, invited molestation… seemed almost more threatening than if she'd taken more luxurious, squeezing liberties. Jesse was left with a pit of insecurity over whether he had, in fact, just expected… or wanted her to do so.

"Do you know…" Cynthia offered, pausing for a second and sounding as if she was recanting an interesting bit of biological trivia. "There are some people who think massage goes all the way back to our roots as just dirty, old apes."

She lowered her hands back onto the small of Jesse's back, and pushed her weight into his spine. Gradually dragging this pressure upwards as she lay herself down upon his body. Continuing her lecture all the while.

"Back to when we would have spent hours at a time grooming each other. In constant physical contact with everyone we knew: friends, family or enemies… It didn't matter whether you liked someone or not. It was just part of life to run your hands across every inch of their body. Picking off parasites and looking after their health and wellbeing, for the good of everybody."

By this point, the girl was lying down completely on top of her human practice dummy. Embracing his shoulders with her forearms and resting her chin upon his collarbone. Jesse could feel the changing textures of her form. The soft, but pointing press of her nipples against his back. She was topless too… but wearing something strange and silky down below. Nylon perhaps? It was an intense moment of discomforting comfort, so far removed from the warm, midnight embraces of Betsy. There was a sharpness and levering angle to everything Cynthia was doing… that he understood well.

But, all the same… He couldn't say he didn't like it.