Part 2
I quickly changed out of the first pair of panties and bra, leaving them to one side. I picked up the second pair of panties, which were similar to the black ones I'd just tried, but these were in a dark purple colour and had less lace. The matching bra was kf the same design as the black one too but it was more rigid, having additional underwiring. I put it on in the same was as before and poked my head out of the curtain. Sir saw me immediately and called out loudly to me, "get out here now faggot and show me your underwear!". I stepped out and padded down to where he sat on a stool at the entrance to the changing area. "Mince up and down faggot" he barked "and wiggle your backside like a girl". I tried my best. I pulled in my elbows and stuck out my forearms, keeping my wrists limp just as I'd seen sissies do in the videos that Sir had demanded I watch online in my spare time. I walked in mincing steps, wiggling my buttocks as much as I could. "Watch yourself in the mirrors as you pass the cubicles" he laughed. I did. I looked at myself in horror as I, a man in his fifties, minced up and down in a pair of womens purple panties and matching bra. I looked how I felt - pathetic and embarrassed. After parading up and down a few times, Sir was satisfied and I was allowed back behind the curtain to try on the third set of underwear. I soon emerged again, this time in a pair of baby pink panties, with lots of delicate lace, accompanied by the matching bra, also very lacy and actually, quite comfortable to wear. Sir made me mince up and down again several times but this time he made several comments about how I looked. "What a fucking pansy you are" he catcalled, even wolf whistling at one point. I prayed no-one else would come into the fitting rooms before Sir tired of his game. Fortunately, no-one did and I was allowed to change back into my male clothes. When I had dressed I rejoined Sir. "Okay faggot, I think you'll take the last set, the pink ones". "Yes Sir" I replied. Leaving the other two sets on tbe rail, I began to make my way to the till. "Wait faggot" called Sir. I stopped and turned just as he threw a pair of pink ultra-frilly ankle socks at me. "These too" he cackled, "and make sure you tell the girl at the till these items are all for you". "Make sure you tell her, even if she doesn't ask". My face went beetroot red immediately but I knew it was futile to argue. There was nobody else waiting at the till so I went straight up to the counter. "Just these for you today?", she enquired. "Are these for your wife?". "Nnnn, no" I stammered, my face now crimson. "They're for me actually". "Really!", she exclaimed, her face lighting up. "I hope you enjoy them". "I will", I said stupidly, tapping furiously on the payment terminal. "I'll pop the receipt in the bag for you" she smiled, "have fun" she called as I hurried away.
"Well done faggot" said Sir as I rejoined him. "Now go back into the fitting rooms and put your bra and panties back on, along with the socks". I almost groaned out loud but I caught myself. Instead I responded with "yes Sir", smiled and headed back behind the curtain. I snapped off the plastic tags and swapped my briefs for the pink panties and put on the bra under my tee-shirt. I knew that the bra would show through my tee-shirt as it was a thinnish fabric and quite close fitting. It being white wouldn't help either. I put on the frilly ankle socks and then my training shoes. We left the shop soon after and as soon as we encountered a waste bin, Sir instructed me to dispose of my briefs and socks. Walking along the street, I couldn't help but try to catch sight kf myself in the shop windows. With my jacket on, there was no way anyone could see that I was wearing a bra but my frilly socks could be seen peeking out from the space between the cuffs of my jeans and the top of my trainers. I prayed that as I walked, they wouldn't be too obvious even though they were very pink.
I remained several steps behind Sir as we walked and after a few minutes he stopped outside a coffee shop. He stood to one side as I went ahead of him to open the door. Once inside, he headed to a table around midway across the shop. He stood and waited as I moved behind him and pulled out a chair and gently pushed it forwards as he sank into it. "Take off your jacket faggot", he ordered. I did as I was told and hung my jacket over the back of my chair. Immediately I sensed eyes upon me and I began to feel that my bra straps were on show. "Go to the counter and get me a cappuccino, a glass of water and a scone with butter and jam". "Also, when they ask for a name for the order, make sure you answer correctly". "Yes Sir", I responded. I approached the counter and lined up behind three other customers. The shop was not overly busy but there were patrons sat at most tables. I ordered when it was my turn and when asked for a name, I simply said "faggot". "Could you spell that please?" grinned the young guy at the counter. "F-A-G-G-O-T" I replied. "Your name is faggot?, he responded with a grin. "Yes" I said, adding "Sir" ensuring I maximised my embarrassment. I waited patiently and before long I heard the inevitable call, "cappuccino for faggot!". I took the cup and saucer over to Sir, along with a tall glass of water. Just then another voice called out across the cafe, "scone for faggot!". I nearly died on the spot as the voice called out again, "scone for faggot!". "That's me" I stupidly called out in reply, rushing back to the counter. "Enjoy your food faggot" said the barista, with a huge grin on his face. "Thank you", I returned, red-faced.
Sir drained the glass of water immediately and told me to wait whilst he went to the toilet, taking the glass with him. I waited for what seemed like an eternity for Sir to return, knowing that I was being looked at by the other patrons who had overhear the barista. Sir suddenly reappeared and placed the glass back into the table. It was now full, almost to the brim with a yellow liquid. He stirred his coffee as I sat, eyes cast down at the table. He then took a knife and cut the scone in half. He spread jam and butter onto each side, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a condom, which he placed next to the scone. "A little extra cream for my faggot to enjoy", he smirked. He took the condom and began to empty the white creamy contents evenly onto the two halves of the scone. Using his thumb and forefinger Sir squeezed down the length of the condom to ensure nothing was left. He then left the condom on the side of the plate and began spreading what was a surprisingly large amount of cum over the halves of scone. Once finished, he handed me the knife and ordered, "lick it clean faggot". I took the knife from him with a "thank you Sir" and licked the knife clean. "Good faggot" he said, "now lick my fingers clean". "Yes Sir", I responded as he reached across and held his fingers up to my face. I licked each of his fingers in turn and then followed his jnstruction as he told me, "suck my fingers". I sucked each finger in turn until he pulled his hand back. As he did so I couldn't help but notice that the two young women on the table beside us were staring and giggling to one another and I knew they'd watched what I'd been made tk do. "Now, eat up your treat and drink your drink" smiled Sir, as he began to slip his coffee. I took a mouthful of Sir's piss from the glass he'd brought back to the table along with each bite of cum covered scone. The two women watched between fits of giggles and snide comments as I consumed my food and drink. I made a show of licking my fingers at the end and draining every last drop of piss as a show of faggot defiance. "What do say faggot?" said Sir when I was done. "Thank you for my cum covered scone and the privilege of drinking your piss Sir", I smiled. "It was a real treat".
"Right, let's go", said Sir, which was my cue to pull his chair back and open the door for him to exit. As I passed the counter, the barista called out "bye faggot", so I turned and gave a little wave.
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