Wednesday, April 22, 2015
In my last post I mentioned that the next episode would be the last, in fact I said it would definitely be the last. Well, unluckily for readers of this blog, Irish people appear to have a very elastic relationship with the word ‘definitely’, so this will be the penultimate episode – and I’m pretty sure I’m definite about that. At the moment I have close enough to 10,000 words but I think it will take probably another 2-3 thousand to finish it which could take another 2- 3 weeks as I wanted to do 2 illustrations also. However I think that would be too much for one chapter and probably more importantly too long a time between chapters, so long story short- I decided to split it. The chapter below has fewer than 6,000 words, far fewer than I usually post but at least I’m well ahead on the final chapter however realistically it will still take 2-3 weeks maybe longer to complete and as I said I wanted to avoid a long delay. I tried to tie up this one as neatly as possible- not sure I succeeded- but it was the best I could do.
The illustration like the one in the previous chapter bears no relation to the chapter posted but does reflect Robert’s continuing humiliation at the hands of Frau Kirchen, the Countess, or maybe even some of their friends, in this case Lady Agatha and Miss Clarissa. Unlike Robert I feel these ladies do not consider his treatment a humiliation, Frau Kirchen probably thinks she is doing the right thing in creating an environment that will encourage a femininity that she perceives he no doubt possesses. His role as a servant girl is central to this as it encourages submission, obedience and loyalty to her will, traits she values highly, she also seems to be developing a high degree of affection towards him.
Anyway enough of my ramblings, many thanks again to all who commented and those who ticked the more box, it’s what gave me the encouragement to keep it going but I’m not really sure if that’s a good or bad thing.
I think I got all the typos if not apologies.
Hope you enjoy it.
A Suitable Position©
Room 101 – Now my dear boy, we just have a few questions.
A journey through the beautiful leafy suburbs of Katrinabourg in a chauffeur driven Bentley in the company of an attractive and elegant older woman should have been a pleasurable experience for any ordinary young man of nineteen but Robert Kilcoyne was not any ordinary young man. No ordinary young man would have spent the several weeks employed as a maidservant, dressed as primly as any maidservant would be, in a regulation maid’s uniform complete with apron and cap. This was the price the foolish youth had to pay for allowing himself to be contracted as a domestic servant to the authoritative and domineering figure with which he now shared the back seat of the car. As the purpose of this particular trip was to renew his visa with the appropriate government department his employer Frau Rozamund Kirchen felt it appropriate that he should dress as a male although her idea of how a male should dress was peculiar to say the least, cropped Capri pants and a white silk pleated blouse masquerading as a shirt. Worst of all a cloche hat with a silk rose in a band around it, matching kidskin gloves ornamented in a similar motif completed the ensemble. In Robert’s opinion this outfit may have been acceptable on a girl and a very prissy one at that but it was downright ridiculous on a male and he feared, indeed dreaded, he would be the subject of much curiosity. However he also realised that once he was well behaved and compliant Madam would be very protective of him as she had been on his only other visit outside her house. That had been a very distressful experience, one in which he was dressed in female clothing however despite some nerve wracking moments, miraculously he had come through it without being exposed as a male, thanks in no small part to the coaching in feminine deportment he had received from Greta, Madam’s other maid.
Even more disturbing for Robert was the seemingly inexorable pull into the orbit of femininity that Madam had created for him. He still retained a grip on his masculinity but he was also aware that this hold was a tenuous one to say the least and he was under constant pressure from both Madam and Greta not to mention the Countess of Argyll, Madam’s close friend, to behave in graceful and feminine manner at all times and to this end he was constantly supervised by either or all of these women. He had been wearing a maid’s uniform for weeks now and Madam had also insisted he wear very constricting foundation garments underneath. “A disciplined figure makes a disciplined mind” she had said to him on a daily basis insisting he repeated this and other similar phrases back to her. This he now did with the enthusiasm that she expected from him, for anything less would incur her ire and inevitably he would find himself face down on her bed receiving several strokes of her hairbrush. He found he was in a constant battle against this insidious femininity as he attempted to retain his masculine identity. Despite his most determined efforts his inability to escape from this seemingly never-ending feminine lifestyle was beginning to wear down the poor boy’s resistance and inevitably certain feminine characteristics lodged themselves in his consciousness. Recently he found himself checking his hair and general appearance every time he encountered a mirror, around the same time he began subconsciously referring to Frau Kirchen as Madam in the way a well-trained subservient and docile maid would. He had also gained some knowledge of ladies fashion as he was allowed nothing to read but various magazines on the subject and was regularly questioned by Madam on various aspects of the latest fashion trends, he was convinced that his new familiarity with this topic and the enthusiasm he showed had thankfully contributed to Madam discontinuing his punishments. In the perfumed haze of this new feminine world in which he found himself in his masculinity occasionally surfaced long enough to realise the danger he was in of becoming feminised and in one of these brief periods he hatched a plan to escape. So while he viewed this excursion with his mistress with trepidation he thought that although it would be difficult he may be able to gather further information that could help with this plan.
These thoughts were running through the boy’s mind as the gleaming vintage motor cruised towards its destination.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Frau Kirchen said gazing at him intently.
“I’m just nervous Madam. “he answered truthfully “these clothes……”
“Oh don’t worry you look just wonderful.” she said, smiling reassuringly as she adjusted his hat slightly “Silly boy, it’s the latest fashion for boys of your age, straight off the Paris catwalk you’re just not used to male clothing.”
This didn’t reassure Robert in the slightest but he certainly wasn’t going to disagree he just gave his default answer in situations like this.
“I think you should know, dear boy” she said continuing to fix him with her eyes “You are making so much progress if you continue to allow your feminine persona to grow I will certainly reward you and perhaps may even be persuaded to grant you more freedom. You would like that, now wouldn’t you?”
“Oh yes Madam.” he blurted enthusiastically at the mention of more freedom but afraid to ask what this could mean.
The remainder of the journey was passed by Frau Kirchen lecturing Robert on the merits of continuing the development of his feminine side, however Robert was becoming more nervous as they approached their destination. His hopes that the car would deposit them within metres of the building were dashed when she instructed the chauffeur to stop several hundred metres away saying the walk would do him good.
Robert waited for the chauffeur to open the door and reluctantly stepped from the car, the smirk on her face only served to increase his anxiety. He looked around apprehensively as he assisted Frau Kirchen from the vehicle. The sight of a luxury chauffeur driven car frequently attracts curiosity and much to his disappointment this was no exception, Robert observed several inquisitive onlookers gazing in their direction. Noticing the look of dread on his face Frau Kirchen turned to him and said
“If you feel anxious you may link your arm in mine.”
Under normal circumstance Robert would have baulked at the very idea of having to cling to a woman for what in reality, he had to admit, was in fact protection perhaps not in any physical sense but certainly against any derisory or sneering remarks which he felt his outfit was sure to attract. Any courage he had he left in the car and once on the sidewalk he felt, dressed as he was, he needed some sort of security blanket so silently he surrendered another part of his masculinity to this formidable woman as he slipped his arm inside hers to effectively tether himself to his mistress.
“Feel safer now?” she said smiling as she pulled him so close he could feel the warmth of her breath.
“Yes Madam.” he agreed shamefully but nonetheless truthfully and not for the first time he felt conflicted. Simultaneously he experienced incredible powerlessness and humiliation at having to seek the protection of the woman who had imprisoned him in such feminine attire yet he also felt secure and considered it a price worth paying.
“That’s a good girl, Mummy will protect you.” she murmured softly as she drew him even closer, he felt even if he wanted to he could not break free.
As they made their way along the street he struggled, despite being linked to her, to keep pace and every few metres had to quicken his step which gave his gait a less than masculine aspect. He knew it was weeks of being forced to wear long corselettes stretching almost as far as his knees which restricted his stride to a more feminine walk and although he was not wearing one now he found it extremely difficult to readjust to a normal male walk. Thankfully the area was not very busy and they managed to arrive at the building’s entrance without having encountered too many people and once inside Frau Kirchen unlinked Robert and approached a middle aged woman at reception.
“Good morning, I have an appointment for a renewal visa for my employee.” she said handing over a letter and his visa.
“In what capacity is she employed?” the woman replied as Robert winced at the female pronoun, almost instinctively he moved closer to his mistress.
“Domestic servant.” Frau Kirchen answered.
“Ah yes… Madam” she said her demeanour changing as she consulted a list and glancing quickly at Robert continued “maidservants appointments are on the first floor Room 101. I will phone the person immediately to avoid any delay Madam.”
Robert could see that the woman examining him from head to toe as she made the call.
“Madam, she thinks I’m a girl and is sending me to the wrong section.” he said as they made their way up the marbled stairs.
“Oh do stop panicking you silly girl, she’s obviously a little short –sighted.” she said brusquely brushing off his protestations and as they walked along the corridor two women approached them, they introduced themselves as Kirstin and Isolde and showed them into the room.
“This should be just a formality Madam and should not take too long,” Kirsten, who had dark hair tied in a bun and a pleasant plump face, said addressing Frau Kirchen and ignoring Robert who although annoyed was glad to hear the interview would be a short one, he relaxed slightly as both women consulted various documents in front of them however his respite was only temporary as she added “we just have a few questions for the girl.”
“There seems to be a slight mistake in her application.” Isolde, who had her auburn hair cut in a pageboy style layered softly at the ends while her bangs reached almost to her eyebrows, added almost apologetically “the name is Robert and the sex is male.”
“That is correct.” Frau Kirchen said nonchalantly as she patted Robert on the thigh as if he was a prize winning spaniel.
“But… I thought… ahem..we….assumed…..” Kirsten stuttered at her answer.
“Please forgive us Madam we did not mean any offense.” Isolde apologised as Robert shifted uneasily in his chair, extremely perturbed at this turn of events.
“It’s not me you should apologise to.” Frau Kirchen answered and gestured with her hand towards the foppishly dressed youth next to her.
Both women then turned their gaze to the unfortunate boy and for a moment or two regarded him quizzically as he sat in front of them, his rose motifed gloved hands folded on his lap, legs tilted at an angle to the left and crossed at the ankles, a pose he had been trained to adopt when sitting in Madam’s company and due to his present very nervous state Robert had not thought of altering this peculiarly feminine sitting posture. Isolde was the first to speak.
“I do hope you were not insulted by our…ahem… error” and pausing for a moment added “…..er.... Herr Kilcoyne.”
Robert, as uncomfortable as any male would have been in such circumstances found himself unable to speak and could only shake his head and forced, what he hoped would be taken for a forgiving smile. After he had composed himself Kirstin ran through some basic questions relating to his application which he managed to answer without difficulty and occasionally Frau Kirchen would make a contribution which reassured him greatly. They were not long into the interview when the door opened and the Countess of Argyll entered, both Kirsten and Isolde curtsied even though they wore trousers. Robert either through weeks of habit – though Greta and his mistress would call it training- or perhaps just sheer intimidation at the Countess’s presence, immediately stood up and automatically joined them in the demeaning feminine act which caused a curious look to cross the faces of the two women officials.
“Rozamund my dear, I’ve just been told you were here.” the Countess trilled clearly delighted and noticing Robert continued with a note of condescension “ah I see you have your delightful boy with you.”
Frau Kirchen explained the reason and both women engaged in small talk for a moment before the Countess glanced in the direction of the two officials,
“I need to talk to you for a few moments, these ladies will look after your boy I’m sure.”
“Yes your ladyship, we only have the questionnaire section left it will only take a minute or two.” Isolde said.
“Excellent, have the boy join us when you’re finished.” the Countess said and left.
“Do you know the Countess well?” Kirstin asked as they all sat once more.
With the shock of seeing the Countess Robert had almost forgotten that the she held the position of Deputy Prime Minister in the Principality.
“No.” he lied but thought that the way the Countess referred to him indicated differently and knew this answer would not satisfy the two women in front of him, “I have only met her on a few occasions at my mistress’s house.”
“Did you hear that!” Isolde exclaimed “‘my mistress’, we don’t hear that form of address very often these days, such an appropriate way for a domestic servant to address her …oh I mean his employer.”
“Yes Kirstin.” Isolde agreed arching her eyebrows and accompanied by a most patronising smile “such a quaint but nevertheless an appropriately deferential mode of address by a domestic servant to refer to her ….oh I mean his employer.”
“Obviously she ….oh dear now you have me doing it Isolde….obviously he is very well trained.” Kirstin said as Robert sat cringing at the blatantly condescending remarks and cursed himself for referring to Frau Kirchen in such a servile manner but after weeks of constant indoctrination it was hard to break the habit, he really didn’t know which was more humiliating being taken for a girl or a domestic servant.
“Not to worry,” Kirstin said and noting his obvious discomfort continued in her smug tone “I’m sure it is a very rewarding position. Now my dear boy we just have a few questions, to gather information for our records on those employed as domestics.”
Both women looked at the paperwork in front of them and Robert who was still burning with shame from their earlier remarks got an uneasy feeling as he noticed a look of surprise on their faces.
“It appears from our records that your….” Isolde paused and then emphasised the word “mistress has completed Form 10A which is for the position of maidservant only, unfortunately this error will require her to complete a new form for a male domestic and as she is in conference with the Countess heaven knows how long she will be. However we could proceed with this document and we can make the necessary adjustments later, it’s up to you?”
Robert only wish was to leave these dreadful women’s company as quickly as possible and with as much dignity as he could salvage.
“Yes that’s fine, please continue.” he blurted.
“Excellent!” Kirstin beamed as her eyes met his “I hope you won’t be offended but that’s a gorgeous outfit you’re wearing those cropped Capri pants are very fashionable, such a becoming colour I hadn’t realised they made them for males also, and I simply adore the rose on your hat.”
“ Yes very chic.” Isolde gushed “so rare for a boy to have such a sense of fashion and that shade of stocking goes so well with your pants.”
Robert squirmed even more in his chair and could feel himself blush as she noticed his nude panty-hosed legs at the end of his cropped pants.
“But I suppose we had better continue, I have to ask you the questions exactly as they are stated on the form, unfortunately due to strict departmental rules we cannot alter the questions in any way I do hope you understand.” Kirstin said as Robert nodded nervously.
The initial questions were routine, date of birth, nationality, duration in the country and so on and as she went on the unease he felt began to subside a little. Isolde looked at her paperwork and asked
“Could you tell us is this your first time being employed as a maid?” Isolde asked fixing him with her eyes.
The boy was taken aback by the question and seeing this she said
“As we’ve said unfortunately we cannot alter the questions on the form please don’t be embarrassed it’s purely a box ticking exercise.” She repeated the question and smiled at him while waiting for his response.
“Y…yes.”he answered his sense of discomfort increasing once more.
“And which one of these descriptions best describes your position- kitchen maid, scullery maid, parlour maid or housemaid, or a combination of these.”
“I … am … it’s just that…”he stammered
“Oh come now, as a domestic servant” Kirsten said in a superior tone and in a slightly impatient voice continued “surely you must recognise your position within your mistress’s household. Would you like me to repeat the list?”
“No….. no….” he blurted and lowered his eyes as he answered her question “house-parlourmaid.”
“House- parlourmaid” she repeated in a lofty voice. “Excellent, that wasn’t so difficult, now was it?”
“Now is that under housemaid or head housemaid?” she continued the interrogation as he continued to squirm in his chair.
“Under house-parlourmaid.”he mumbled.
“Oh Kirstin don’t be so hard on the girl…. Oh I’m so sorry,” Isolde said smiling apologetically at Robert “I mean boy of course. You’re forgetting this must a little embarrassing for him, answering questions meant for a servant girl.”
He smiled gratefully at her intervention sensing that at least she understood his predicament more than her colleague, she continued,
“Don’t worry my dear we are almost finished, now tell me is your position a uniformed one?”
Robert suddenly felt the queasiness in his stomach increase tenfold, why was she even asking this and how could he answer such a question? Isolde saw the look on his face and seemed to recognise his confusion and added helpfully
“This is purely for statistical purposes the department needs to collate information about all aspects of domestic service, I’m sure you understand. Now assuming you were an under house-parlourmaid would you be required to wear a uniform, and if so please describe it. I’m sure it is like the one your superior- the head house-parlourmaid wears.”
“Y…..yes.”he finally said and writhed uncomfortably in the chair as he described the uniform he was forced to wear “a grey morning dress with a plain apron and cap and an afternoon uniform of black dress with white cuffs and collar with a more elaborate apron and cap.”
“Clearly your mistress is a traditionalist you must look very stylish when in uniform.” Kristin said.
“I….. I mean… I don’t..”he spluttered attempting to deny any connection with his hated uniform and tried to give a spirited dismissal of such a notion “obviously I don’t wear that uniform.”
“Oh of course not, whoever heard of a male maid and please do not be offended I really mean this as a compliment…” Isolde said, and in a strange and dreamy voice added “but with your cheekbones, long eyelashes and wonderful sylph-like figure you would make a delightful girl.”
Under normal circumstances Robert would have exploded in anger at such an insulting and demeaning suggestion but these circumstances were anything but normal the last thing he wanted was to get involved in a shouting match he quickly decided the best course of action would be to stay silent and swallow her insult manfully. He forced a smile hoping it would suffice.
“And undoubtedly would make a wonderful maid did you notice the way he curtsied earlier?” Kirstin unhelpfully asked.
“Yes I did as a matter of fact, I wondered why you did that.” Isolde inquired, a dreamy look still on her face “it’s such a feminine gesture and you performed it so naturally.”
“I…. it was …I only….”he stammered as his brain once more desperately tried to concoct some plausible answer but before he could utter a word the door swung open.
“Are you not finished yet? ” the Countess’s voice boomed from across the wide expanse of the room. He never thought he would be grateful to see her but her imposing presence had just saved him from trying to explain the inexplicable.
“Oh yes your ladyship, we’ve just finished.” Kirstin said very quickly and a little shamefaced Robert thought, he could tell that from the imperious look on the Countess’s face even if there were more questions neither woman would dare ask them. “Come along girl….your mistress is waiting.”
Before he rose from his chair he clearly heard Isolde say to Kirstin “I knew he was a girl.” He quickly followed the Countess from the room where they were met by Frau Kirchen.
“There has been a slight change to my plans.” she informed him as he tried to quicken his still restricted stride in order to keep up with both women. He was more than aware that with his handbag swinging on the crook of his elbow he looked ridiculously feminine as he did so.
The Bentley was waiting for them outside and soon he once more found himself nestled snugly between the two powerful female figures he could smell their perfume mingling with his own. Much as he was relieved to be removed from the excruciating interview with those horrible women he was worried by the reappearance of the Countess into his life, in his recent experience any encounter with her was never to be welcomed.
“Rozamund you really should have called me earlier I could have had those formalities dealt without putting you to the trouble of presenting the boy.” the Countess said as the car pulled away from the kerb and despite her usual intimidating presence he was grateful that he was in the car and heading for Frau Kirchen’s residence.
In his fragile state he understood that incidents like the one he had just experienced could become more frequent and decided his escape should come sooner rather than later and as the women droned on he noted various things like tram stops, taxi ranks, bus and train stations which could be useful with his nascent plan. It was with alarm he suddenly noticed they were not travelling in the direction of Frau Kirchen’s home and he immediately tuned back into their conversation.
“Thank you so much Rozamund for volunteering the boy.” the Countess said and stroked him gently on his thigh.
Robert had no idea what they were talking about but the Countess patting him on the thigh was never a good sign he thought, by this stage in his incarceration he had developed finely tuned antennae when it came to sensing something bad was about to happen, he glanced at his mistress who smiled benignly at him, but her answer to the Countess did nothing to enlighten him.
“Oh don’t be silly Maxine it will do the boy good to associate with younger people as well as putting his newly acquired skills as a lady’s maid to the test.”
“I had intended to spend more time with you to help the poor boy shed this ridiculous notion of masculinity and to discover his true self.” she said this time she squeezed him gently on the thigh but closer to his groin which despite his best mental efforts her hand stirred his confined member into life. She smiled at him as she continued “ I had sent most of my staff including my lady’s maid to my country residence so you can imagine my annoyance when my sister asked me to look after her girls while she attends a week long charity event.”
“And how are the girls it’s been some time since I’ve seen them.” Frau Kirchen asked
“Oh they’re like most young girls their age, demanding, difficult, and absolutely exhausting if one spends too much time in their company.” the Countess answered in an exasperated voice.
“Which is why we have governesses and servants.” Frau Kirchen chirped.
“Precisely!” the Countess exclaimed and squeezing him once more continued “They’re always complaining how bored they are, which is where this charming young creature can be of assistance.”
“Ah yes, it’s that difficult time in a young girl’s life where they probably think they’re more grown up that they actually are. Like Robert here they need to be guided onto the right path.” Frau Kirchen said.
“My thoughts exactly, dear Rozamund.”
Robert looked from one of the ladies to the other trying to make sense of their conversation.
“You do want to help us Robert, now don’t you?” Frau Kirchen asked, as she looked him directly in the eyes. Her tone left no room for doubt.
“Oh yes Madam” he lied, injecting just the right degree of enthusiasm in his voice, if he had learned anything in these last weeks of domestic servitude- it was always sound eager to please, it delighted the mistress and avoided a potential spanking. In a perverse way he prided himself on being able to achieve this level of subterfuge not to mention other behavioural traits associated with girls in general and maidservants in particular. It did worry him occasionally that at times even he could not tell if he was just acting the part or he was genuinely acquiring feminine gestures and habits. He thought of the feminine way in which he had arranged his legs earlier and cursed himself.
“Excellent, what a good and very brave boy you are. Isn’t that so Maxine?” Frau Kaufmann stroked his cheek in a genuine display of affection.
“Of course Rozamund, he really is a quite remarkable young man.” the Countess beamed and clarified the situation for him “now dear boy as you may have gathered, my darling nieces will be staying with me for a few days and they tend to get bored with adults so they may benefit from having someone a little closer to their own age for company and although you may be older than them, I’m sure you will find you have areas of common interest.”
“But… they’re girls they’ll soon discover I’m a male, the girls at Frau Kaufmann’s were suspicious” Robert spluttered desperately trying inject some sanity in order to avoid this new ordeal.
“Well you’ll have to ensure they don’t, otherwise it will mean you’re not trying hard enough to fulfil your mistress’s faith in you.” the Countess said and addressing Frau Kirchen over his head said “Perhaps Rozamund, he should attend the Institute for the week instead.”
The nervous youth looked pleadingly at Frau Kirchen for some support.
“Oh I don’t think that will be necessary Maxine.” Frau Kirchen replied “I’m sure the boy will be the quintessential female and will do us proud, isn’t that so Robert?”
Another lesson he had learned in these last few weeks was being aware when not to pursue certain matters, this would invariably be construed as disobedience thus leading to further punishment. He quickly nodded his agreement.
“Excellent.” Frau Kirchen said acknowledging his acquiescence.
The car pulled up outside a large three story townhouse in one of the most fashionable and exclusive streets in the capital a girl in a pale blue dress with a mob cap and apron was cleaning the marble steps leading to the imposing front door. She curtsied but kept her eyes firmly on the ground as the two ladies steered Robert up the steps, as they stood waiting for the door to be opened he noticed the girl scurried through a gate in the black railings and down into the basement. He understood her actions all too well. The door was eventually opened by a tall slender woman, her blond hair plaited around her head like a crown or halo, she wore a plain black A- line dress which flared out at the waist emphasising a narrow waist. He instinctively knew she, like him, was tightly girdled beneath her dress which fell to just below her knees, her legs were encased in black stockings and she wore three inch patent leather court shoes. Despite her severe appearance her smile was very welcoming as the Countess and her guests made their way inside. Their shoes beat out a staccato rhythm across the black and white tiled floor of the spacious entrance hall and as they stood there while the Countess spoke to the woman a number of large gilt mirrors threw back reflections of the woman in black as well as two exquisitely dressed women standing on either side of a girlish figure dressed in an obviously feminine costume. Despite his mistress views to the contrary the image confirmed everything he had feared regarding his effeminate appearance but he took solace in the fact that at least they were now out of the public view.
“Frau Dedlock, this is Daphne, the person I have told you about.” the Countess said waving at Robert.
“What a wonderful choice m’lady and how kind of you Frau Kirchen to bring her at such short notice” Frau Dedlock answered and then approached Robert, scanning him from head to toe a moment or two later she addressed the boy.
“Yes I think she will fit our purpose perfectly, won’t you my dear?” she cooed patting him gently on the cheek.
“Er.. em… yes …Frau Dedlock.“ Robert replied and automatically curtsied, he really wasn’t sure if this was necessary but by now his default position was when in doubt -always curtsy, it usually pleased the recipient of the subservient gesture as well as his mistress, showing as it did what a well-trained servant he was.
He followed the two women into to the elegant drawing room where he was told to sit on one of the large two seat silk upholstered sofas. Frau Dedlock excused herself and the ladies seated themselves in the large comfortable chairs opposite him, they chatted to themselves for a few moments until the door opened and Frau Dedlock reappeared with two girls.
“Ah Isabelle, Lillian, you remember my dear friend Frau Kirchen.” The Countess chirped at the sight of the girls.
Robert looked on anxiously as the girls went through the customary kissing ritual that the opposite sex are so fond of and while they barely noticed him he had a few seconds to study them.
He took them to be twins perhaps not identical but very like each other, they were smaller than him and definitely younger by at least a year maybe two it was hard tell with girls this age. They were attractive with dark brown hair falling down past their shoulders, one wore a coral coloured flared dress with a high lace bodice, the other a lilac square collar fitted dress which clung tightly to her well rounded body. After the introductions were made the girls sat down and eyed Robert with a curiosity he had come to know and dread.
“Now girls it’s obvious to me from your last visit that my own maid was not the most satisfactory person to look after you, so this time I thought someone closer to your own age may be more suitable, and as luck would have it like you, she is also from England so you will have so much in common.” the Countess addressed the two girls, who on hearing this intensified their gaze on the young man sitting opposite.
“This is Daphne.” Frau Kirchen introduced him, taking up the conversation from her friend she explained his circumstances to the increasingly curious girls “she was alone in a foreign land and running low on money and came to me seeking employment. Unfortunately she had very masculine tendencies, something I think we all agree should be discouraged, particularly in a servant girl, naturally I took pity on her but resolved to attempt to reconnect her with her true nature.”
Both girls looked with pitiful expressions at the now increasingly uncomfortable boy, Robert for his part had no idea where Frau Kirchen was going with this.
“Your aunt and I were hoping that you would assist in the project and help him….” Frau Kirchen paused momentarily “oh I’m so sorry girls, I keep forgetting….help her to rediscover her true character.”
They shifted excitedly on their seats and quickly engaged in an animated discussion.
“You mean like give her a make-over?” one of them said.
“And teach her to be more feminine?” the other quickly added.
“Well…yes” Frau Kirchen answered.
“Can we dress her in more appropriate clothes?” the girl in the coral dress asked.
“Of course, my dears.” the Countess replied and turned to Robert “stand up and turn around Daphne, let the girls see you.”
They eagerly approached him to begin their inspection, Robert could feel the panic, which as always was never far from the surface, rise at the thought of being handed over as a plaything to these girls.
“But… please Madam….”he pleaded with Frau Kirchen.
“Hush now Daphne.” Frau Kirchen stood and looking at him directly in the eyes she lent over and whispered in his ear “just remember you’re a girl, act like one and you will be fine. The Countess will look very favourably on you if you keep her nieces entertained, let them think they are helping you.”
The two girls were speaking quietly to the Countess and when they had finished Frau Kirchen turned to them and said in a louder voice “I’m sure the girls will take great care of you.”
The sight of the two advancing figures triggered a rush of blood to his head, he attempted to make for the door but it was too late and before he made three strides they were at either side of him, he found each arm was held tightly by the girls.
“Oh she is a feisty thing Lillian.” the girl in the coral dress said as she tightened her grip.
“The poor thing is trembling Isabelle.” Lillian said and addressing Robert said softly “Don’t be afraid girl we’re not going to hurt you, now come along we’ve got so much to do.”
Robert was still spluttering his protestations as he was practically frogmarched from the room.
Saturday, April 11, 2015
I cannot recall how my time in the penalty box ended. I assume got back to my room somehow, as the next thing I remember was waking up in my bed. I felt spent and sore, but mostly okay. Memories of the evening before already had begun to fade. I was surprised to find I wasn't bound at all.
They let me sleep in late, and I was already sitting upright by the time the maids finally came to collect me. I still felt very fatigued though, both physically and mentally. I stumbled in my sandals and Bernadette had to support me as I was escorted to the bathroom.
They gave me all the time I needed to shower, which was nice and warm but not nearly as reinvigorating as I had hoped. Afterwards, they started to rub lotion on my skin, and put some thick paste on a couple of bruises on my back, legs and behind. I let them, of course. For once the two maids were quite gentle and I felt like I could hardly hold on to a towel anyhow.
After dressing they presented me to Mistress. The two maids walked at my sides, supporting me as I was escorted outside. They took me towards the terrace at the back of the mansion. It was another nice day. Partially clouded, which protected us from the heat, but with the sun managing to peek through the grey shroud. A warm wind came up from the valley in the east.
Mistress was already waiting for me. She sat on a comfy garden chair next to an elaborate table, on which breakfast (well, at this hour it was probably brunch) was already served. She took her off sunglasses and smiled as I was presented to her.
Jeanne and Bernadette had put me in a traditional Swiss dress they called a Dirndl. Well, not quite traditional I reckon, as it was clearly fetish wear. One of Mistress' custom specials.
Over my undies I wore a silk white blouse with wide neckline that left a somewhat modest cleavage, while short puffy sleeves covered my shoulders. White trimming with some frills, ribbons and small bows in contrasting black decorated its edges.
Over my blouse I wore the dress itself. It was made completely out of stiff latex, in a very bright yellow. The skirt was very short, and elaborate petticoats kept the relatively heavy and rigid material flared up, giving everyone a good look at my panties. The bodice only covered my waist, with two wide straps that ran past my boobs and over my shoulders, making my silk covered breasts stand out firmly. The bodice was decorated in front with white laces, that Jeanne had tightened enough for it to function as a fully-fledged corset. White lacing embellished the dress' edge. When Bernadette zipped me in, I heard a click, so I assumed it was locked on me. An ornamental white satin apron was tied in front of me, with a wide bow at my back just above the skirt.
It covered underwear that was just as uncomfortable and silly. Both the bra and panties were made from white patent leather with elaborate lace trimming. The bra had a large amount of straps and buckles with seemingly no other purpose than to make it impossible for me to take it off without help. Conversely, the panties were ridiculously small. The front looked normal enough (for a sissy, that is), though the leather fabric was rigid enough to function as a gaff. The back looked more like a tanga or thong, barely covering my butt cheeks. Combined with my very short skirt, I felt very exposed.
I wore gloves that covered my arms from my fingers to my elbows, encasing them in skin-tights white latex. They matched the colour of my patent leather knee boots, with straps around my ankles and the top of the shafts. Given my current weariness, I had difficulty managing the four-and-a-half inch heels, but the inflexible material gave me just enough support around the ankles to cope.
The only bondage accessory I wore was a simple leather collar in pristine white, with a deep yellow amber stone in front. I did not even wear a plug, but that gave me little comfort as my tight panties had firmly lodged themselves in my butt-crack.
Despite my yellow-and-white outfit, the maids had given me elaborate makeup that incorporated many pink tones. Perhaps it was to complement Mistress' gift that was dangling between my breasts, the silver and pink pendant. I carried my hair in a ponytail, tied with a yellow ribbon in an unnecessarily large bow. Jeanne had to spend some time to let a couple of curly locks of hair fall down the sides of my face and over my ears to give it a casually feminine appearance.
The two maids were still holding and supporting me when they guided me towards Mistress. When they were sure I wouldn't shame them by collapsing on the spot, they let go and stepped back.
“Ma'am? May we present your protégée, sissy Cheryl,” Jeanne spoke.
Everything was so difficult now, drained as I was. Walking, looking pretty, smiling. Even thinking. As I stood there before Mistress, her eyes fixed on me expectantly, it took me a while to realize I owed her a respectful curtsey.
With effort, I bobbed a curtsey. It wasn't a particular good one, but Mistress did not seem to mind. My outfit squeaked as I moved, which Mistress clearly enjoyed.
“Good morning, Mistress. It is wonderful to meet you again, here on this beautiful day. And may I add you look lovely this morning,” I said with a combination of natural and practised submissiveness.
But she did look lovely. She was wearing a dirndl too, much like mine, but in reverse. Where my outfit represented the ultrafemininity, humiliation and submissiveness of a sissy, hers conveyed the womanhood, pride and strength of a mistress.
Her blouse was white silk like mine, but without any of the frills, only a button casually loosened to expose some cleavage. Her dress was made from a fabric I couldn't identify, but seemed much more comfortable than my latex one. It was yellow too, but of a much more earthly tone. Khaki almost. The skirt was longer, coming to her knees, and with only the flaring to give it volume. The laces around her waist were black, tied almost as tightly as mine. She wore identical gloves and boots, but in shiny black without the straps and more sensible three inch heels.
Her makeup was much more subtle, using pastels mostly, and she had let her brown hair fall down loosely on her shoulders. Her only piece of jewellery was a black satin choker with a shiny golden lion it.
She watched me curtsey with that same wicked smile I had come to dread, but there something else. She looked... Satisfied. Sated even.
“Well, hi there, princess Butterscotch,” She spoke in a friendly tone. “Thank you very much. But really, my appearance simply pales with yours. You light up this gloomy place with your golden radiance.
Did she just mock my outfit (which she put me in!) while complimenting it? How on earth should I respond to that?
I settled for an enthusiastic “Thank you, Mistress”, a happy smile and another bob.
She kept watching me, an amused but encouraging smile on her face. Like a teacher that waits for a student to realize an obvious and embarrassing mistake.
Perhaps it was my fatigue, or maybe Mistress' comforting smile, but I did not get nervous or scared. Only embarrassed, like someone who doesn't get a joke
and wonders why suddenly everyone is laughing.
I struggled to determine what I was missing here. I looked down, looked up, straining my face as I thought hard about what I had said and done, and whether I should have done something else. I did everything right, didn't I?
It must have looked very cute, because Mistress was clearly enjoying my awkwardness. Even Jeanne sniggered. None interrupted or shooed my thinking process though.
Then it hit me, eyes went wide with realization. Mistress had effectively called me more beautiful than her, and I had accepted that compliment without question or denial! A sissy should never ever assume she is more beautiful than a real woman! Especially not when that woman is your mistress. Otherwise sissy might get thoughts above her station!
“...But your beauty is without compare, Mistress,” I quickly added. “And though I strive to do my utmost to go above and beyond the level of presentability you've come to expect of me, surely I will never be able to match yours.” I smiled, hoping I hadn't dawdled for too long.
Fortunately, Mistress gave a satisfied nod. “Oh you are just too kind, my dear. But seriously, you are truly a ray of sunshine for my weary eyes. I love your outfit, both edgy and traditional. You like it too?”
“Of course, Mistress. I'm honoured to wear a dress so steeped in history. But it's particularly nice that it’s made of brightly coloured latex, so everyone can see I'm a sissy.” As if to underline my words, the outfit squeaked, making me blush and Mistress snigger.
“You really don't need latex for that,” Bernadette whispered to her colleague. Both maids chuckled behind me, causing me to turn even redder.
“Ladies, it is not nice to tease our guest.” Mistress admonished her to maids, then turned towards me again. “You seem a bit slow this morning, my dear. Everything all right?”
She was testing me again, trying to bait me into saying something ill-advised. But my mind and body were too fatigued to worry about that now. I barely had enough energy left to maintain a properly sissified attitude.
“I'm fine, Mistress.” I answered humbly. “A bit tired, that's all. And my wonderful outfit is a little uncomfortable...” My outfit creaked as I supported my words with exaggerated gestures.
“Oh, I am sure.” Mistress said smiling. The tone was mocking, but her face stood remarkably gentle. “You were quite insatiable yesterday. I have never seen a sissy with so much energy. You really pushed the limits of my endurance.”
She drags me off to the penalty box for six hours, yet I pushed her limits? I thought confusedly as I looked down shyly. “I'm sorry, Mistress.”
She laughed. “Oh don't be, silly girl. No sissy can get the better of me of course, but you presented a rare challenge. Thank you for that.”
“Er... you are... er... very welcome? Mistress?” I answered hesitantly.
She smiled, a blissful look on her face. “But compared to yesterday's high water mark, I fear that whatever I'd come up with for today would be disappointingly tame. So I decided to take it slow, and just enjoy this special day in each other's company.”
“What is so special about today, Mistress?” I asked.
“Why, today is out last day together,” she told me with some regret. “Tonight I'm going to take you back to Christina.” She sighed “Time sure flies when you are having fun, doesn't it?”
I was too tired to feel truly elated, but my heart jumped when I heard that. Today I'd leave this place! I was going home to Mistress Christina!
I did my best to look sad. “Oh, that is unfortunate to hear, Mistress. It has been such a... Wonderful... time here. But it seems it will be lovely day. I'm sure today will be memorable as well.” I smiled bashfully, winking my eyelashes.
She grinned “I certainly hope so. I will do my best not to disappoint you. For starters, I personally selected your outfit this morning. Just a little concession to make today more...” There was that wicked look again. “...Memorable.”
I felt my panties ride up my crotch and crack, my legs unsteady in my boots as the latex dress squeaked. This was something I'd remember, all right.
“But enough talk, my dear.” Mistress said, gesturing towards the chair next to her. “Come sit with me. Are you hungry?”
“Yes, Mistress.” I said. The table was filled with several rolls of bread, fruit, marmalade and other delicious looking foodstuffs. Yesterday, at the warehouse, Adrienne had gotten me a sandwich, and I'm pretty sure Mistress had fed me something while I was in the penalty box, but right now my stomach was quite empty. I was very happy to join Mistress at the table.
I smiled delighted as I bit into the croissant with strawberry jam, not really noticing the strain and creaking of my stiff outfit.
I was sitting on Mistress' lap as we chatted. The maids had just finished clearing the breakfast table, and brought us a cup of tea. Her hand was underneath my skirt. Not quite up to my sissy parts, but close, stroking my inner thighs as I talked. I spoke at length about the various outfits I had worn during the past week, talking about all their good points (there were no bad points, obviously) and how I just loved wearing each single one.
Perhaps it was the fact Mistress had completely drained me the night before, or the fact that I would be gone soon, but I almost believed every single word of nonsense I said. Yes, that empire dress was just perfect to be chased around the estate in. Of course, I should be wrapped in a latex catsuit more often. Certainly, I should always wear a school girl uniform when stupid little me is trying to learn anything. How could anyone even think anything different?
Mistress' smiled gently as she let me do most of the talking, but when she spoke she chose her words well, always challenging me, playing devil's advocate for my suppressed doubts.
“But surely, my dear, you cannot wear short skirts all the time,” She said thoughtfully as her hand went up my skirt. “Someone might see your panties peeking out.”
I giggled. “But that is the whole point, Mistress. Everyone might see my panties. Mistress can lift up my skirt whenever she likes, to her delight. Complete strangers may accidentally get a good look at my panties, much to my embarrassment. Isn't that wonderful?!”
“Isn't it much more sensible for a sissy to wear flats? What if she has to run to get somewhere fast?” She asked me, while her latex glove touched my mostly bare bottom.
I giggled. “Don't be silly, Mistress,” I answered cheerfully. “A sissy does not run to go anywhere fast! She runs to exaggerate her girlish gait, of course. And you cannot have a properly feminine gait without a nice pair of high heels.”
This went on for a while. I was just showing Mistress my lovely new boots, telling her how wonderful its heels were, when I dimly noticed someone approaching us.
“I have to admit Miss, I was rather sceptical yesterday when you told me, but she really is as docile as a little lamb,” a female voice said.
Startled, I turned towards the newcomer, slightly annoyed about interrupting my eulogy on my outfit.
Adrienne was standing there. Her auburn hair tied up in a tidy but practical bun. She was wearing a uniform like the security officer I saw yesterday, dark blue with firm black lace-up boots. On her belt she carried a pistol on her right, and a truncheon on the other side. At the front there hung a small cylinder that no doubt contained pepper spray. She did not wear a cap, but over her torso she wore a black stab-proof vest. When I had first met her, she looked strong. Now she looked powerful enough to fight a small war single handedly.
“Ah, Adrienne. Good that you could make it. Cheryl, you remember Adrienne Mayeaux, don't you? Say hello.” Mistress said.
Yes, I remembered my Judas. “It is a pleasure to meet you again, Miss Mayo,” I said smiling, but couldn't quite prevent ice from entering the tone of my voice.
She grinned amused. “That's Mayeaux, my dear. Enchanté. Good to see you are safe and whole.”
“Thank you Miss. And may I thank you for bringing me back here after my ill-conceived escape attempt?” I said with a smile while embracing Mistress, trying to ignore the venom I secretly felt. “Who knows where I would be now if it wasn't for you?”
Probably on an air plane to the US, wearing a shirt and pants, I thought. But I pushed that mental picture away.
Adrienne turned to Mistress. “I was sure she'd be causing trouble this morning, but you got her well under control.” She sighted. “Well, I guess I owe you thirty franks then.”
I kept smiling prettily, but my eyes went wide. They made a bet on me?
Mistress laughed. “Oh, you have seen nothing yet, Adrienne. How about double or nothing?” She said something to her chief-of-security in French. Adrienne looked surprised, then thoughtfully.
“Oh what the heck, this I got to see. You're on, Miss,” she finally said.
“Excellent,” Mistress said with a wicked smile. She grabbed my chin and turned my head to face her, then whispered something in my ear.
I looked at her dismayed, and she stared back in stern expectation.
“Of course, Mistress. I'd be happy to.” I said submissively and got off her lap.
I erected myself, and took a deep breath. Here goes.
I smiled warmly and a bit dimly at Adrienne, as I took on a very sissy-like stance, with my legs erect to draw attention to my boots and bare thighs. I bent forward just a little, pointing my bosom at Adrienne, holding my elbows at the side and lower arms pointing outwards. My hands dangled from my wrists, but kept my fingers stretched. I touted my lips, keeping them slightly apart, so they looked like a blooming rosebud. I drew my eyes open a little further, tilting my head a little bit, giving me that airheaded expression everyone but me seemed to love.
Then with the tiniest of steps I minced over to Adrienne, making sure my hips swayed excessively with each step. My rhythm was precisely attuned to the swaying of my skirt and petticoats, overlaying a swish-squeak sound over the clicking of my heels.
One of Adrienne's eyebrows was raised in surprise as I approached her slowly. As I came closer her surprise had changed into mirth that she could barely contain. By the time she had to fight back laughter, I felt my checks had flared up red.
Professional as she was, she had put her hand over her mouth as I bobbed her a curtsey.
“Miss Mayeaux, may I again thank you for bringing me back to where a sissy like me belongs?” I made my voice even higher than usual. “However, it was wrong of me to try and run away in the first place. Sissies mince about in heels and dresses for their Mistress' pleasure, and running away is a big no-no. I've been a very naughty sissy, and I need to be punished.” My mouth felt dry. “Would you be so kind as to spank me, please.”
I turned around and tilted myself forward just far enough for my panties to become exposed without actually lifting my skirt. I made sure Adrienne got a good look of my ass-cheeks.
Adrienne barked a laugh. “What? Me?” She asked Mistress.
“Of course,” Mistress answered highly amused. “It has been a year since you caught that burglar, and I know you've been itching to use your baton again. Well, here is your chance. Cheryl here doesn't mind. Well, she does actually, but that is not an issue.”
“I do not think this is a good idea, Miss.” Adrienne said behind me as I kept presenting myself. “I'm on duty after all.”
“Ah, come now,” Mistress said. “I very much doubt the barbarians will come crashing through my gates while you spank little Cheryl here. Come on, be a sport.”
I heard Adrienne snort. “Well, you are the boss...” I heard her remove the truncheon from her belt.
“How many times, miss?” Adrienne asked.
“Good question. Let little Cheryl here decide.” She turned to me. “You hear that, my dear? Please tell Adrienne how often you want her to spank you. Be firm, though. If you are too lenient with yourself, I'll multiply the number.”
“Yes, Mistress.” I replied.
This was mean, making me determine my own punishment. And hadn't I been punished enough yesterday?
“Miss Mayeaux, would you be so kind as to spank me fifteen times?” I asked submissively.
That was a lot, but better to err on the side of caution. If I'd asked for ten, Mistress would probably double it. Now she remained silent.
“Well, if that is what you want...” Adrienne said. She pulled up the back of my skirt. “You ready? Here comes.”
The baton came down on my behind. I felt a sharp pinch. It hurt, but not as much as I had feared. Adrienne was not going all out, thank goodness.
“Oh!” I squealed, trying to make it sound both meek and excited. As she readied herself for another strike, I wiggled my behind.
The truncheon came down again. “Ow!” I called, stamping with my feet and waving with my arms, but keeping my behind presented to Adrienne.
She continued spanking me. “...Oh! ...Ungh! … Ow! …Ah! ….Ow!” She still didn't hit all that hard, but my behind was getting quite sore nonetheless. With each slap it became more and more difficult to look and sound cute and submissive.
“I'd better stop,” Adrienne said “I'm beginning to enjoy this a little bit too much.”
Mistress laughed. “Oh Adrienne, I swear I'm going to make a fully fledged Mistress out of you some day. Just finish giving Cheryl her medicine, then we can get down to business.”
A couple of more strikes followed. I managed to sound and act properly after each strike, even though my behind was now on fire. I was very glad it was not twenty strikes.
I turned around and curtsied for Adrienne, thanking her for disciplining me.
“Oh Cheryl, you naughty girl,” Mistress suddenly said. “You soiled Adrienne's baton.”
“My apologies Mistress,” I immediately said. I soiled it? Where? When? I looked at the truncheon, and it looked sparkling clean. Even Adrienne looked confused, turning her baton around in her had as she looked for the blemish. “Do you want me to clean it?”
“Please do, girl. Adrienne, would you be so kind as to give little Cheryl here your baton? Thank you.”
With a certain reluctance, she handed me the truncheon. It was black, long, thick and hard. It reminded me of a long dildo with a handle. It was clean, though.
“Should I clean it in the bathroom, Mistress?” I asked?
“Don't be silly, girl. You can clean it here.” She said.
“I do not have anything to clean it with, Mistress,” I said confused.
“Of course you do, You are a sissy, after all. How do you clean other long and hard rods?”
My mouth fell open as realization set in. “Yes, exactly!” She said with a wicked smile as she saw me standing there holding the black baton, my mouth agape.
“Hurry now, girl. Get Adrienne's long and hard stick cleaned.” Mistress said smiling. Adrienne looked at her, frowning over Mistress' rather remarkable choice of words.
Then training took over. I smiled as I put the tip of the baton on my lips, softly licking it, then put my lips around it.
Baffled, Adrienne looked at me. She didn't even bother to hide her amusement anymore. “I think you just gained sixty francs, miss.” She said.
“Let's call it even if you join me for a drink after your shift ends, and let me tell you about the myriad of advantages of being a mistress.”
Adrienne laughed. I noticed that though she did not say yes, she did not say no either. Did I just witness the tentative first steps of another mistress?”
Mistress dragged me back to the present as she addressed me, my lips still sliding down the shaft, making the baton go deep into my mouth.
“That's it, girl. Keep doing that until its clean.” Mistress called to me. “No, don't stop! I'll tell you when it is clean, dummy.”
As I stood there sucking on my unexpected dildo, Adrienne turned to Mistress. “How on earth do you manage to control her like that?”
“It's easier than it looks, if you know how. The trick is to first make her feel powerless, than just to keep her busy.” Mistress told Adrienne while she keeping her eyes on me. “Actually, it's more difficult to make her rebel. By the way, have a seat Adrienne. I'll have Jeanne bring you some refreshments.”
While Adrienne made herself comfortable, Mistress turned to me. “Cheryl, dear? Adrienne and I have some business to discuss. While you continue cleaning Adrienne's baton, feel free to wander about the terrace. But do not leave my sight! And do not disturb us either. As long as that big rod is in your mouth the only thing I want to hear from you is the squeaking of latex, the clicking of heels and the sucking of lips, is that understood?”
“And don't forget to smile, my dear.” She added sternly. “Everyone can see you out here in the open, and you like to be seen, remember? In your latex dress and high-heeled boots, sucking on a phallus. You just love how everyone can see what a adorable little sissy you are as you mince about.”
As an acknowledgement, I smiled as I struck a submissive pose.
“Very good, girl. Off you go then,” Mistress told me. As I minced to the other side of the terrace, baton going into and out of my mouth, I heard Mistress turn towards Adrienne and got down to business.
I had no idea what Mistress and Adrienne were discussing. What few words I could hear over the noise of my own outfit were all in French. Nor did I know how long it took. All I knew I had gone up and down and around the terrace more times than I bothered to count.
And everyone could indeed see me, out here in the open. First I though it was simply Mistress messing with me, but she was not kidding.
At first it was just Mistress and Adrienne. Adrienne looked at me occasionally, giving me an amused look. Mistress definitely kept a close eye on me. She would suddenly interrupt her meeting with Adrienne and call out instructions to me.
“Don't dawdle, sissy. I want to hear those heels click.”
“Put that phallus in deeper, girl. Clean it like you mean it.”
“Cheryl, If you do not start smiling right now, I swear I will make you cry.”
But as their meeting continued, other people appeared. First it was the maids, who would join in, leave again, and return later. Especially Jeanne liked to tease me every time she came and went. Then the chef arrived. He tried to ignore me, but I suddenly felt very uncomfortable with being in the proximity of a man. The gardener was worse, as he pointed at me and said something, causing everyone to burst out in laughter. Everyone but me, that is. When two very masculine looking security guards arrived, I was sure I was about to faint.
But somehow I managed to keep on mincing, and one by one everyone left. Even Adrienne was gone. She had taken back her baton, looking rather uncomfortable as she reluctantly put the now very wet and slick truncheon back on her belt.
I was very glad the baton was gone, but Mistress kept ignoring me as she sat at the table alone, looking into the distance thoughtfully. So I just continued mincing around the terrace.
Then, whatever deliberations she had with herself, they were finished and she smiled as she turned to me.
“Cheryl, honey? Come sit with me.”
“Yes, Mistress.” I minced over towards the table and sat down daintily.
“My apologies for interrupting our last day together like this, but some urgent business had to be attended.” She said apologetic. It sounded genuine.
I smiled, a little less genuine. I didn't mind her having a meeting for goodness knows how long, but I did mind her having me mince around in four-and-a-half inch heels while sucking a phallus in the meantime.
“But we will not be bothered again. We can take it easy from now on.” She smiled at me.
“That would be nice, Mistress.” By now my bottom was fine, mostly at least, but my feet had started to hurt. Taking it easy would be very nice indeed.
Bernadette came by with drinks. “Now then, I believe that before we got interrupted, you were telling me about those lovely boots of yours?” She smiled at me, and winked.
When it was lunchtime, the maids arrived carrying trays with food. Jeanne placed the plates and cutlery. Bernadette put down a basket of bread, followed by a broad selection of meats and cheeses, some of it cooked.
“You hungry, my dear?” Mistress asked.
“Yes, Mistress” I said eagerly. Though breakfast was fine, this looked far more hearty, and the smell was very nice.
“Before we eat, I'd like to give you a surprise. As this is our last day together, let's make it a memorable one.”
“A surprise, Mistress?” I asked, feeling suspicious but sounding enthusiastic.
She nodded, then winked at Jeanne, who was carrying a box that she put on the table.
“Is this... er... part of a game, Mistress?” I asked.
Mistress smiled. “Oh no, my dear. No games today. The only thing you have to do is relax and let us do all the work for our honoured guest.”
That sounded pretty good, actually. Interested, I watched as Mistress opened the box and pulled out its content.
I had no idea what I was looking at, even when she held it up right before me. “What is that?” I asked incredulously.
Mistress had a happy smile on her face.“I call it the 'bowling ball',” she said. “Your surprise is inside. Want to know what? Go ahead, put your hands in. Feel what it is.”
Bowling ball? Well, it did have some similarities. Same size, shiny round surface, though I cannot recall ever seeing a completely white one. It looked more like an oversized pearl to me. Only, there were two large holes on either side.
Hesitantly, I put my hands though the holes. I was still wearing my latex gloves, but I could still feel that the hard plastic sphere was filled with some resistive or spongy material. It felt like I was putting my them in pair of soft but tight gloves.
I could move my hands inside the dark orb, somewhat, touch my fingers, fold my hands, but that was about it as the medium resisted every movement. I didn't feel anything else inside the sphere, though.
“I'm sorry Mistress, but I do not think there is anything in there.” I said.
“Don't be silly girl. Of course there is. You'll get to it.”
Once my hands were in up to my wrists, I heard a click and a felt a shudder.
I opened my eyes wide in dismay, looked up to Mistress Margot.
“Ah, there it is. Surprise,” she grinned.
I tried to pull back, but my hands wouldn't come out.
“Curiosity killed the cat.” She said with a chuckle. She let go of the sphere into which my gloved hands seemed to have disappeared. “And binds the sissy.”
I stared incredulously at the white orb that had swallowed up my hands, as if the latex of my gloves had coalesced with the ball. You could hardly see the welt between glove and opening.
As I held it before me, I noticed it was much lighter than a real bowling ball, but remarkably secure. It was impossible to see the solid cuffs beneath the smooth surface, but I could feel them tightly around my wrists. Mistress looked at me with glee as I started pulling my hands.
No matter how hard I pulled, I couldn't get my arms out even a fraction of an inch. I gave up when I realized it was useless.
“Mistress? Wha... What is this? You said no more games!” I almost yelled at her.
My insolence made her raise an eyebrow, but she let it slide. “This is not a game, silly. As I promised you, we are going to take it easy for the rest of the day. I don't want you to do anything but sit down and enjoy while the maids and I take care of you.” She pinched me in the cheek. I was too astonished by this turn of events to even flinch.
She tapped on the sphere. “This is just a subtle reminder for you not to exert yourself. Now, shall we have lunch?”
I looked up incredulously. “I cannot eat lunch bound like this!”
She put her arm around me and firmly guided me towards her chair. “Well, of course not dear. I will help. You can sit on my lap while I feed you. You like cheese, don't you? Or would you prefer meat?”
After lunch, that I spend eating the slices of toast Mistress held up in front of me, she elaborated on this contraption that bound my hands.
“It has been made by two very talented young men who have started a small workshop in Freistaat.” Mistress told me. “After seeing their handiwork, I've become a regular customer. Some of the furniture in the penalty box is theirs as well.”
“Mistress, please take it off,” I pleaded. “I'll be good. I promise.”
Mistress sighed. “Oh Cheryl, quit your whining, or I'll give you another ball. And that one will go in your mouth. Now, each one of their items is custom made, so it’s bloody expensive, but they are thinking about starting a production line...”
Apparently, you needed a key to release the unfortunate captive. Mistress dangled a necklace with the key tauntingly in front of me.
“You also need to press these knobs on either side. See? Like this, using both hands.” She made some complex gestures with her fingers “Though I should probably mention, you have no way of pressing those buttons while your own hands are completely encased. Not even if you have the key.”
She hung the key around my neck. “Feel free to try, though.” She said, smiling wickedly.
I soon discovered it was a deceptively mean thing too. When you are wearing handcuffs, your arms are immobilised, but you can at least use your fingers. Manipulate stuff. Feel it. But it was just impossible to do anything useful with my hands stuck inside the bowling ball. I couldn't touch or pick up something as simple as cutlery or a glass. It was too big and round to use a door handle with, meaning you could lock me in a room just by closing the door. I couldn't even scratch my nose properly.
Mistress wasn't kidding when she said she didn't want me doing anything. It had become physically impossible for me to do so. That afternoon my hosts had to do everything for me. Correction, the whole day I had to beg and plead them to do anything for me.
If I wanted to drink? 'Please Mistress, may I have some water?', 'Would you be so kind as to lift that glass for me?', 'Yes, please put your finger in my mouth so I can suck the last drops from it'.
And I wept as a child at the humiliation of having Bernadette escort me to the toilet and clean me afterwards.
But despite my indignation, I wouldn't sulk. This evening Mistress would take be back to Mistress Christina, and I'd be gone. For once, time was on my side. I just had to endure a couple of more hours with Mistress.
So after my initial shock and resistance, I quietly slipped back into my sissy persona for whom being tied up by insane bondage devices is just as normal as wearing dresses and heels.
“Oh yes, Mistress. I just love the bowling ball. What a nice surprise that was,” I told her while I was sitting on her lap again, while she fed me grapes. “Everyone knows a sissy is completely helpless without the firm guidance of her mistress. But some naughty sissies forget that. And I'm ashamed to say that I have been a naughty sissy. So it is good that you put the bowling ball on me to remind me how weak I am without you, Mistress.”
We were sitting next to one another in two comfortable garden chairs that overlooked part of the garden. Lush flower beds spread out before us, and beyond the bounds of the estate I could see the Alps rise above the bushes and trees. Even with summer fast approaching, I noticed how the top of the mountain called 'Alte Mann' was still covered in fields of snow. It reminded me of an elderly man's crown of white hair. The forests at its base looked like a wild beard. If you squinted a little bit, you could see a weary and wrinkled face in the mountain's bare rock.
I was glad the sun had disappeared behind a veil of grey clouds, otherwise it would have been intolerable in my latex outfit. Right now, it was only uncomfortable enough to constantly remind me I was wearing it.
I looked down at my lap, where the bowling ball still rested, my hands disappearing into the hard white orb. My leather panties itched on my behind, but there was nothing I could do about it (it was probably very unwise to ask Mistress to go anywhere near my sissy-hole). Unfortunately, Mistress showed no sign of removing this monstrosity any time soon, so I just had to endure. I did not complain of course. So far I had not given Mistress enough reason to carry out her threat to put a ball gag in my mouth, and I was not about to, for sure.
“I love this view,” Mistress said. “I sometimes come here to just sit and watch. Listen to the whispering wind. No matter how busy or stressing the day has been, when I sit here I can unwind.” She put her head on her headrest and closed her eyes, a breeze playing with her hair.
Mistress indeed looked particularly relaxed. And she had become rather mild too. Once she was satisfied my mindset was sufficiently meek and feminine, she relaxed her domineering demeanour. Chatting became more casual and started to drift away from the many joys of sissydom, to more conventional topics. I didn't even have to finish my critical (and giggling) comparison of the various plugs and dildos that I had encountered over the week.
She told me how in a couple of hours she would take me back to Christina, where I would be exchanged for Danielle.
“Though I would love to keep that cute ass of yours here forever and ever,” Mistress told me, “I'm quite looking forward to seeing my niece. I never thought I would say it, but I kind of miss her grumpy and rebellious presence.”
She turned towards me. “How about you? Would you like to see Danielle again? I have a sneaking suspicion she is quite anxious to see you. She's gown quite fond of you.”
“She has?” I asked in surprise. I had to think about that for a moment. We had been almost constant companions for over two weeks, and we had been friendly with one another. Even empathic which each other's plight. But it has been a companionship that had been forced upon us, and my first few encounters with the boy Daniel had been hardly cordial. I had difficulty believing she really liked me.
“Oh yes,” Mistress said with a gentle smile. “The past year has not been easy for her. She really fought my attempts to feminize her. It had to be done, of course. It was for her own good, after all. She'll thank me in time.”
A rebellious thought crossed my mind. How is stealing Danielle's fortune by making her weak and submissive for her own good? “Of course, Mistress. She'll be very happy as a sissy. I know I am,” I said smiling as I pushed the thought away.
Mistress gave me a satisfied grin. “Of course you are, my dear. I am very good at what I do, and I love doing it.” Her face turned pensive. “But there was no joy in seeing Danielle lonely and miserable. She needed a friend, someone she could relate to. Who is in the same boat as she is. Misery loves company, after all.”
She looked at me. “And I think she finally found one. She has been much better behaved since she met you. She is beginning to realize that becoming a sissy is something to be embraced, not fought. You have been a very good role model to her.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” I said gratefully. Deep down I felt guilty, though. I had apparently been an accomplice in Danielle's feminization.
“And it is clearly reciprocal,” she said with a smile that was both warm and wickedly amused.
“Mistress?” I asked surprised. “I'm not sure what you mean.”
“Oh, don't be silly, girl. I've seen you two kids kiss. You like Danielle too. You are just not ready to admit it yet.”
She turned her gaze towards the mountain in the distance. “And she inspires you in return. You don't want to resist your feminization at all. No, there is no use in denying it, my dear. I know it’s true, even if you don't realize it yourself. You just need an excuse to silence your residual doubts and embarrassment. Seeing just how futile Danielle's attempts to resist are is all the excuse you need.” She winked at me.
The fact that I would be tied up and dragged off to the penalty box if I do resist had absolutely nothing to do with it, a tiny voice said sarcastically at the back of my mind. I ignored it as I focussed on my incredulity that anyone would actually object being sissified, least of all me.
“Everyone needs someone they can relate to. Someone who understands them,” Mistress said thoughtfully.
“Who understand you, Mistress?” The words had left my mouth before my mind realized I was speaking.
Mistress’ head shot towards mine, her face showing her surprise at my sudden and cheeky personal question. She eyes were pointed at me with a mixture of annoyance and amusement at my insolence.
Perhaps it was the relaxing atmosphere of our surroundings, but the latter emotion won out. Her facial expression turned warm and she smiled.
She put her hand on my leg and gave a playful tap on my bare thigh.
“Alas, a woman of my position and lineage enjoys many boons, but understanding of my woes is not one of them. I have no peers, only underlings. As they say, it is lonely at the top.”
“Oh, I'm sorry Mistress.” A thought hit me. “How about Mistress Christina?” I asked. “Is she not your friend? Doesn't she understand you?”
She got a dreamy expression as she began to stare off into the distance. She remained silent for a while, ignoring me.
Just when I thought the silence was becoming uncomfortable, she suddenly answered.
“In another time, perhaps. But that was many years ago,” she said. Did I hear regret in her voice?
I felt I like I had to say something, but wasn't sure what. I settled for a neutral “Have you known Mistress Christina for a long time?”
“Oh yes,” She answered with an amused smile. “We've known one another since we were children. We were best friends.” Then a glimmer of sadness came ever her expression. “In a way, each other's only friend, really.”
“You had difficulty socializing when you were young, Mistress?” I asked.
She smiled at me, amused by my ignorance. “Cheryl, we were both the heirs to families older than this nation with more wealth than some countries. From a young age we have been burdened with the responsibilities and traditions that our names carried. I never wanted for anything, as I lived in opulence that many people can hardly imagine, but it wasn't a particularly easy childhood either. None of the other kids could possibly understand my burdens. Only Christina did.”
I remained silent. Though I had trouble sympathizing, I too had heard about how children from wealthy families tended to have troubled childhoods. I think I once heard that in the US teen suicides and drug use in the top one percent is actually higher than in the bottom ten.
“As we got older, we became inseparable,” Mistress continued. “Together we began resisting what our parents and society expected of us. Especially when they began prospecting for our future husbands.”
“Prospecting for...” I repeated, unsure what she meant. Then my eyes went wide. “You mean arranged marriages!” I said in bafflement.
Mistress nodded. “Indeed.”
“But... Why? Arranged marriages are a thing of the past, surely.” I said.
“You must understand Cheryl,” she said in a serious tone, “that change does not affect all strata of society equally, or at the same time. Certainly not in families as old as ours. Compared to the traditions that pervade my family, many of the customs and rights you take for granted are novel and barely proven. A decade before I was even born women had burned their bras in the name of freedom and self-determination, yet Christina and I had to wear corsets as we grew up. When other girls would go out and play football, we remained indoors and played games that practised the skills required of a wealthy socialite.”
“It must have been difficult,” I said emphatically.
Mistress was silent for a moment, staring in the distance. Then a smile appeared. “It wasn't all bad, of course. We had good times, especially when Christina and I did our utmost to annoy our parents. We took a lot of comfort in one another. Especially when it became clear we'd have to marry soon. We shared something no husband would ever have with either of us.”
“Shared what, Mistress?” I asked curiously.
She looked at me in surprise, then burst out laughing. “Oh, aren't you adorable. Fucked in every possible way, and still you remain innocent.”
“Mistress? I do not know...” Then it hit me. “You were lovers!” I cried.
She smiled a wicked smile as she nodded. Then her eyes wandered of. I heard her sigh. “We promised to stay together forever.”
I sat there dumbfounded as I tried to wrap my head around that. Mistress Christina had children. She fancied young men. Granted, she preferred them in dresses, but men nonetheless. I would never have thought she'd fancy girls too.
We sat there silently for a while, both of us minding our own thoughts. But I had to ask the inevitable question.
She shrugged. “Reality happened. We were two teenage girls fighting traditions older and stronger than the stone that builds this mansion. The outcome was inevitable.”
Mistress sniggered. “Though I have to admit that our relationship became strained as well. We both proved to be quite the spirited little ladies. That was a disaster waiting to happen. A relationship between two uncompromising dominants never works out well.”
She sighed. “Eventually Christina married and we went our separate ways. Still, in a way, we can thank Christina's husband that you are here with me, in that lovely dress and boots of yours.”
“He was a sissy?!” I cried in surprise.
Mistress laughed. “No. Not at all. He was a real man.”
I looked at her in confusion. “Did Mistress Christina hate him? Make her despise all men, so she wants to humiliate them.”
Mistress gave me an amused and knowing smirk. “Wrong again. It was a match made in heaven. Quite to my surprise and annoyance, actually. There was some initial awkwardness between them, of course, but soon Christina adored him.”
“Then I do not understand,” I said thoroughly confused. “Then what has he got to do me being a sissy?”
She smiled the smile of an old sage that is sharing ancient wisdom with his student. “Christina's husband was a remarkable man. Tall and strong, but surprisingly soft spoken and gentle. Personally, I thought he was a bit dull, but even I recognized his inner strength. He supported Christina as she broke the bonds of her traditional upbringing and rose to her full potential, stoically withstanding her fury when she ever went too far. I do not have to tell you how strong Christina herself is. I once saw her stare down Germany's Minister of Finance like he was an ignorant schoolboy. No-one could ever stand up to her, save for her husband. He was one of the few people in the world that could tell her to shut up, and the only one to whom she would actually listen.”
I listened in fascination. “Sounds like a fairytale,” I said.
She snorted. “Quite right. Even Christina thought so. She and her husband were like Siegfried and Kriemhilde, she once said. That proved to be prophetic.”
I looked at her in confusion. She rolled her eyes at my ignorance.
“Those are characters of the Nibelungenlied, a medieval poem. It does not have a happy ending.”
“What happened to them? To Mistress Christina and her husband, I mean.” I asked in fascination.
“Like Siegfried, her husband was betrayed. Betrayed by his own body. Shortly after Martina was born, he started to waste away. He fought long and hard, but the outcome was set and inevitable.”
“But he did not go out without a bang,” Mistress added. “In his final months he managed to bully his entire board of directors in giving Christina full authority and a majority in shares over her corporation. That was one treasure Hagen wouldn't get...”
I waited for her to continue, but when she didn't I asked her a question. “But what has that got to do with me?”
Mistress smiled. “In time Christina stopped mourning, and new suitors arrived. She enjoyed their company, but they were not like her lost Siegfried. None could ever fill his shoes. Each of her daughters was more of a man than they were. At least they carried the blood of a real man in their veins. Those suitors were fun to have around and spend time with, she said, but each one was a weak excuse for a man. A bunch of sissies she called them. First time I ever heard that word.”
“Eventually, she began to explore what that word meant to her. Seeking out like minded individuals. I was her first convert,” she said with much satisfaction. “And that all culminated with you sitting here in my garden chair, hands bound, wearing a latex dress, high heeled boots and sluttish makeup. You should be very proud, sissy. You are the happy ending of a long and tragic fairy tale.”
For a moment I actually did feel proud. Then my panties began to itch again, and the moment had passed.
“Did you ever marry?” I eventually asked Mistress.
She barked a mocking laugh. “No. When my father introduced me to my future husband, some silly sod, I said they both could get lost. I would never marry. I have since seen no reason to change my mind.” She radiated a vindictive but satisfied grin.
Hesitantly, I asked her a question. “Did you and Mistress Christina ever... you know... get back together?”
Mistress looked at me, but her thoughts were somewhere else. She wanted to say something, but interrupted herself. Then she simply smiled at me.
“We had our chance. I still consider Christina my friend. We have a lot in common. Some things in particular.” She stroked my leg, moving her hand under my skirt, and gave me wicked grin.
Then she looked into the distance, eyes glazing over. “But those days of old are gone and lost.”
We both sat there in silence for a while. Then Jeanne and Bernadette approached.
“Ma'am? It's four o'clock. Perhaps you should get ready for your visit to Miss Jäger. And we need time to prepare little Cheryl here as well,” the raven-haired maid said.
“Is it that time already? Very well,” Mistress answered. “You can take her with you. I'll come by at around five for a final inspection.”
“Of course, Ma'am,” Jeanne said then turned to me. “Up now, chérie. Faster girl, no dawdling. Yes, very good. Stand at attention, girl! Mind your posture. Eyes front, sissy! Well then, to the dressing room with you. Forward... March!”
Flanked by the two maids, I minced back towards the mansion. From the corner of my eye I could see Mistress looking into the distance, seeing something only she could see.