Thursday, March 26, 2015
Chapter 15: Past indiscretions. Cheryl spends the last day with Miss Rosenberg.
My time in the penalty box passed in darkness, since they kept me blindfolded for most of the duration. I once heard that keeping prisoners blindfolded is a simple but effective method to intimidate them, as it messed with their sense of time. I can confirm that is true. As I stared into the void, my other senses screaming as Mistress worked her wicked art on me, I had no idea how long I had been there already and how much more I had to endure. She had said she would keep me in the penalty box for six hours, and always seemed to honour her word, but I was never certain whether hours had passed, or mere minutes. Especially not when a mixture of exhilarating pain and merciless pleasure merged together into a intoxicating delirium that clouded whatever judgement I had left.
Due to that dreamlike state I cannot recall everything they put me through, but I remember certain events with a modicum of certainty.
I'm pretty sure they didn't bother with putting me in a special bondage outfit, but just kept me in the frilly pink outfit and heels I was wearing as they bound me to some contraption. Mistress stood behind me as her hands slowly stroked my breasts while she whispered in my ear. Threats and wicked promises she spoke as she kissed my neck and bit my earlobe. She told me about the various delightful torments she would subject me to, but never in detail. Just enough for me to become utterly terrified as my mind started to imagine what she'd do to me, making me beg and plead for mercy. She'd laugh viciously as I she heard the gag smother the words in my mouth.
Bernadette and Jeanne were present too. I occasionally heard someone laugh that I'm sure was not Mistress or felt more than one pair of hands on my body. At one point Mistress said she was taking a break. As her heels moved towards the door and exited the penalty box, I slumped in my bonds and gave an exhausted sigh, thinking I had a brief moment of rest. But suddenly I heard a chuckle right behind me and everything continued, just as viciously as before.
I remember being suspended from the ceiling. They fitted some harness around me, then put loose chains around my wrists and ankles. Something clicked as it was connected to the harness on the back, and I heard the whirring of a small motor. Then I felt the pull at my back as a chain tugged at my harness and dragged me upwards. I squealed into my gag and kicked my legs furiously as I tilted forward, my heels and soles scraping the floor without finding traction. Then I just felt air beneath me as the motor hoisted me up even further and I hung horizontally.
The chains on my ankles and wrists jingled as I struggled. I don't know what I wanted to achieve as I was dangling there from the ceiling, but for once my bonds were slack. I had freedom to move arms and legs. I started to fight, grunting angrily into my gag as I pulled on my bonds. Fear feeding a reckless fury that made me feel I could tear myself free.
I could force my hands just almost in front of me before the chain that connected my wrists to the back of my harness came under tension. I kicked and shook my legs that were connected to the floor somewhere. I swear I would have kicked Mistress if she was close enough!
I heard Mistress laugh as I struggled and squirmed.
“Would you look at that! Looks like our naughty sissy has some fight left in her,” she said in an amused tone. “My, you are so delectable when you are angry...”
Another engine started whirring, and clicking was audible as a chain started to move. But it was not the chain I was suspended on. Dismayed I realized tension was increasing on my wrists and ankles.
Clack-clack-clack-clack I heard as my hands were pulled behind me towards the ring on my back. My legs were pulled to the floor, down and to the sides until they were completely stretched. Furiously I shook my head despite my tight collar, as my arms and legs were now fully immobilized, allowing only a few inches of movement.
Mistress’ heels clicked behind me, and she took up position. I grunted as she pushed her strapon against my sissy-hole. My plug had been removed earlier and now the tip of the penetrator applied pressure against my sphincter. I grunted again. No longer furiously, but out of desperate fright.
“Oh come now, my dear. Don't give up just yet. I expect you to put up a bit of a fight,” Mistress spoke. “Here, let me make it easier for you.”
The engine whirred again and I heard the chain go clack-clack-clack. My bonds went slack and I could move hands and legs, albeit less than before.
I felt Mistress push harder against my sissy-hole. “There you go. Now then, give it your best shot.”
“Humpfh!” I shouted as my fury returned. I struggled in my bonds. I could move my hands up to my sides, shaking them as if I could find grip on the air and crawl away from Mistress' penetrator. I tugged my legs, tried to kick, but the room to move my legs was limited and I could not touch Mistress as she was in a the blindspot directly behind me.
The pressure on my hole increased. By now I should really know better, but I resisted it nonetheless. I squeezed my rectum to keep the penetrator out.
“That's it! Keep that nasty big cock out of that cute butt of yours!” Mistress encouraged me happily. “Push harder! Don't give up!”
And I didn't. I fought with everything I got. As Mistress pushed I could feel my torso move forward slightly on its suspending chain, but the dildo did not go in. I dare say I felt pride on this little victory.
“Excellent. Well done my dear,” Mistress said. “Now then, you may put this big dildo where it belongs, Cheryl.”
I grunted. Get that thing away from me, I wanted to shout.
Mistress reached around me, easily avoiding my grasping hands. I felt a wicked sting as she pinched both my nipples.
“Humpfh!” I cried. Distracted by the pain, I realized too late I had relaxed my body. I felt my torso swinging back in the chain, impaling myself on Mistress' dildo in the process. I tugged on my shackles as the dildo slid in deeper and deeper. I only stopped moving when my behind bumped against Mistress thighs.
I kept struggling while the dildo prodded inside of me, arms and legs shaking. That amused Mistress greatly.
“Why, I've never seen a sissy so happy for having a big cock in her ass. Wait until you feel this.” She started to rock my body on the suspending chain, moving the strapon in and out without actually moving herself.
“Oh my, what are you doing Cheryl? Moving that tight little hole up and down my strapon. You are actually fucking yourself, you naughty sissy.”
I kept on struggling some more as she moved me up and down the shaft of her penetrator, but it didn't last long. Finally I just accepted it like a proper sissy should.
Big mistake. Whatever Mistress desired of me, it was not meek acceptance.
“What is this? Giving up? I think not!” She slapped my behind, pinched my earlobe, tugged my hair. I squealed in distress.
I felt someone pinch my clitty, then a crop struck my thigh. I squirmed in my bonds, but Mistress continued her assault.
I heard clack-clack and my bonds became a bit more slack. Mistress continued hitting me with her crop, sharp stings biting me on my behind, my back, my hands and even my cheeks. Encouraged by extra the freedom of movement, and shocked by the vicious stimuli Mistress poured over me, I freaked out and went into a frenzy. I kicked and swung my arms and cried and screamed in my gag.
“Much better.” I heard her say. Then the engine whirred again. Clack-clack-clack the chain went, and my hands were pinned behind my back and my legs immobilized. In my panicked tantrum I raged against my bonds, but all I got for my efforts was some useless shaking with my legs, a couple of sore wrists and a lot of muffled grunting that Mistress ignored as she pumped me while simultaneously teasing my clitty.
Goodness help me, I was getting hard! As excitement began to flow through me, I relaxed and stopped struggling.
Clack-clack-clack. My bonds went slack once more, and the pain returned as she began striking me with the crop again. She said something but I didn't hear it as the panic returned and my basic fight-or-flight response took over and I impotently raged against my bonds.
Clack-clack-clack it went, and once again I was securely bound. Mistress taking me from behind as one hand teased my clitty, while the other worked other erogenous zones.
And just when I thought I was about to come, she stopped. “Not yet, deary. Let's drain your energy before we drain that little clitty of yours, shall we?”
I heard the engine whirr and pleasure was replaced by pain and desperate struggling once more.
This cycled continued, again and again. I lost track how many times. She never let me orgasm, but each time letting me come so close.
“My goodness, Cheryl. You are an energetic little sissy, aren't you? What has Christina been feeding you?” Mistress asked me as some point. I only grunted in response as the cycle repeated again.
I was very tired by the time I was introduced to what Mistress called the 'rocking horse'. She had removed the blindfold, enjoying the dismay in my eyes as she guided me firmly towards the unfamiliar item. I had difficulty staying upright.
“This cost me a pretty penny, Cheryl. I hope you like it,” she said.
'Rocking horse' was actually a poor description. It looked more like a small version of one of those mechanical bulls you find at funfairs or carnivals. But where those machines are intended to throw their passengers off, this one bristled with straps and shackles to keep its rider firmly in place. The central part did look like a stylized European dressage horse though.
“Did you know that women can orgasm when riding a horse?” Mistress told me. “It's true. The shaking, rocking and vibration, the rubbing of the saddle. Very stimulating. Especially when you wear those tight riding pants. Unfortunately, I hate horses, which is a bit of a problem. I wanted something to replicate the experience without all the disadvantages of an actual horse.”
She attached the chain of my collar to a hook, keeping me in place as she turned towards something that looked like a control panel. Like I could actually go anywhere...
“But then I figured: why settle for just the stimulation of a mere horse ride when I can take it to the next level?” She pushed a button, and something inside the device came to life. From the saddle of the rocking horse two things suddenly appeared. A pair of dildos now pointed upwards from the saddle. My mouth would have been agape if it wasn't already gagged.
“As you can see, it was made for me, but...” She pushed another button. The forward dildo retracted into the saddle again. The other one still stood firmly erect. “...I figured that my lovely guest should have the honour of 'riding her in', so to speak.” Her smile was from ear to ear.
I must have backed away in dismay, as suddenly my leash was taut. Mistress started unbuckling the straps and shackles on the horse. “I've added these features just for you,” she said with a grin as she undid a solid metal cuff. It snapped open with a short click loud enough to make me wince.
“There we go,” she said as she opened the last bond. She unhooked my leash and started pulling. “Come here, Cheryl. Let's get you strapped in.”
“Noff! Nohpfh!” I muttered as I shook my head. I tugged at the handcuff that still bound my hands behind my back. Using what little traction my heels gave me, I pulled on my leash. With whatever energy I had left, I resisted.
Which was pathetically insufficient, and Mistress just grinned as she slowly but inexorably pulled me towards the saddle. “Don't be silly, my dear. Sissies just love a little pony ride. Especially if the pony rides her.” She pushed a button on the control panel, and the remaining phallus started to hum as it began to vibrate.
I squirmed and struggled against my leash, but Mistress effortlessly placed me next to the saddle. “There's a good girl. Now, raise your foot. Put your leg over the saddle.”
I grunted as I cursed into my gag, tugging my leash. Mistress slapped me in my face.
“Cheryl! Behave!” She yelled at me, her sharp tone more vicious than her slap. Confused, tired and downhearted, I gave up my resistance. But not fast enough to Mistress liking. She slapped me again. “Raise your foot, sissy. Now!” she yelled in my face. I obeyed.
Unexpectedly, she cuffed me around the ears. Confused and scared, I felt tears in my eyes. “Oh for goodness' sake...” I heard Mistress say. “The other foot, stupid girl!”
Balancing precariously on one high-heeled shoe, I raised my right foot and put it over the saddle. The 'horse' was close to the ground (it was only a fancy torso with no legs) and I cleared it easily.
“Good. Put your foot down on the other side. That's it. Well done.” Mistress spoke. I stood there astride over the horse, the saddle directly below me and the phallus pointing straight at me.
“Now sit down. Don't worry, my dear. I'll make it more comfortable.” She turned to the control panel, and the dildo slid back into its resting place inside the contraption.
I was still reluctant, and mistress put her hands on my shoulders to urge me down. I rested my behind on the saddle.
“Put your feet in the stirrups, Cheryl.” I obeyed and placed my high heels in the metal frames, with the sole of the forefoot and the heel on opposite sides of the short metal bar. “Good girl. Now hold still.”
Mistress walked over to the side, and snapped the metal cuff shut around my ankle. Then repeated the process with the other foot. I could hardly move them.
With my feet secured, she turned to the wide leather straps at my thighs. She wrapped them around my legs and buckled them, fixing me in my sitting position.
I mumbled in surprise as she undid my handcuffs, but she did not let go of my wrists as she moved it in front of me. With her free hand she picked up the reins of the horse. They were made of leather, and so were the thick cuffs attached to them. She wrapped one around my wrist and with a metallic click closed the locking mechanism. My other hand was next.
Mistress looked at her handiwork, but didn't seem satisfied. She opened a clasp on the reins and started to tighten them, pulling my hands forward in the process until my arms were almost stretched.
She stepped back and gave me a good look. Her smile betraying her satisfaction. I must have been quite a sight, a girl in a pink dress sitting astride on some toy horse holding its reins. My gag and the consternation in my eyes must have been the icing on the cake.
“Why, don't you look positively adorable!” Mistress said elated. “Little sissy all ready for her horsey ride. Well, let's make it a ride you'll never forget.”
She pushed a button and I moaned in dismay as something beneath me started to move. It could mean only one thing, and sure enough I felt something sharp prod me between the ass cheeks.
I moaned as it pushed upwards. I still had some clearance around my thighs, and I pushed myself up. The dildo stopped moving, but kept pressing on my little hole. I squatted precariously over the saddle, the thigh straps not allowing me to stand upright. At least I managed to prevent the phallus from going in.
Mistress sniggered as she saw me struggle. “Oh no, no, no, silly girl. You need to sit down to enjoy a horse ride. Here, let me help you...” She put her hands on my shoulders and put her weight on me.
I moaned and grunted as she forced me down, the dildo moving up in my rear. “Relax, my dear. Let the horse do the work,” she said as she put more weight on my shoulders. She suddenly twisted my nipple, and pain shot through my chest. I lost my focus and whatever grip I still had. I fell the final inch on the saddle.
“Humpfh!” I grunted as the dildo pushed deep and hard into me.
“There you go,” Mistress said wickedly. “Now let me make sure you don't fall off...” She tightened the leather straps around my legs, then let go. I tried to force myself upward, but I could not get high enough to get myself of the penetrator in my behind. Defeated, I slumped back onto the saddle.
“Looks like you are ready,” Mistress said with a smile as she pushed buttons on the control panel “I'm almost done too... Yes, that should do it. Well, here goes...”
Her finger went to a big red button on the control panel, but stopped just above it. Her face stood pensive.
“I really shouldn't. It was not made for two people... But what the heck! One time won't break it, right?” She walked over to the horse and sat down right behind me, astride on the rear of the mechanical horse. She put her arms firmly around my waist, then kissed me in the nape of the neck.
“You comfy, sweetcheeks?” She asked me teasingly. I just grunted. “Good to hear. I certainly am. Let's begin.”
With her one hand she reached over to the control panel, and pushed the red button.
My heart jumped a little. I was horrified about my position as it was, and whatever this contraption was supposed to do, I was glad it didn't work. And purely out of spite, I rejoiced in Mistress' surprised disappointment.
“What the...?,” she said with annoyance. “Did we break it already? What a piece of crap!” I had to suppress a snigger.
Then an engine came to life. A vibration ran through the horse and an electric motor started to work. The horse began to move upward. I squealed in shock and fright.
We had risen over two feet before the actuators had decided we were high enough. I looked around in fright, my dazed mind unable or unwilling to grasp what I was caught up in.
Then the horse started slightly rock and vibrate.
“Teehee. Do you feel that? That's exactly like the walk of a horse.” Mistress said with amusement.
I felt something, all right. In my behind mostly. But not any specific gait of a horse.
The rocking and vibration increased. “That is a trot,” Mistress said helpfully.
I moaned in my gag. The rocking of the horse was bad enough, but the dildo had started to vibrate as well.
The tempo increased further. The horse started tilting forward and backwards rapidly. “This is a canter, when a horse has three legs in the air and one on the ground.”
I didn't listen to her. I was preoccupied with trying to stand up, as the penetrator had begun to move up and down. I desperately wanted to get off, but my bonds kept me firmly in place.
Then the horse started to gallop. It rocked up and down as the horse ran at full tilt and took me along for the ride, airtime interspersed by shocks as imaginary hooves touched the ground. The movement of the phallus matched its pace.
Mistress was laughing like a little girl. A strange sound coming from someone who usually was so stern, mean and domineering. I heard her gasp as well. I guess she wasn't kidding about women and horse riding.
The horse tilted left, then turned right as if evading some unseen obstacle. “Whee!,” Mistress shouted.
I breathed heavily as the dildo went up and down inside me, its vibrations causing shivers down my spine. The rocking of the horse moved the penetrator in unexpected ways, causing discomfort and delight in equal measure.
I squealed as the horse jumped over something, and I groaned as the dildo pushed in deeper as we landed. “Yeehaa!” Mistress called out with elation.
The horse went into a steady and rhythmic trot, and I felt the saddle shiver and vibrate. I felt it in my groin. The front of the saddle touched my clitty and sissy-bells. It was true, I was excited.
The horse sped up again. Behind me Mistress laughed while I moaned into my gag.
The ride got rougher and the horse began to twist and turn.
“Whoa! It is starting to buck. Hold tight, Cheryl,” Mistress called out.
Strapped down as I was, I wouldn't fall off, but Mistress had to hold on tight. Her arms held me like a vice. She didn't seem to mind though.
“Whoohoo! Ride her, cowboy!” I heard behind me.
My mind was elsewhere though. The penetrator had started moving faster than ever. I mumbled in my gag, uttering words of both shame and ecstasy.
Up and down and round and round the horse went. Mistress now held me one hand holding the other one high, like a rodeo star. I just pulled my bonds in some vain effort to get off.
“Relax, dear.” Mistress said. “Enjoy it. Here, let me help.”
With her free hand she reached around me and under my skirt. Her fingers found my hard clitty. As the horse pranced and bucked, her hand teased my sissy-parts. I could feel her fingers touch and stroke up and down the shaft.
The horse now moved faster than ever, and I was sure Mistress would be thrown off. But she remained seated, one hand around my waist, the other touching my clitty faster and faster. Just as the horse pranced, rearing itself high, I came. With a gasp, a moan and a shudder, I orgasmed.
As on cue, the horse slowed down and came to a complete stop. I gasped from my climax, while the device lowered itself to its starting position. I was still breathing unsteadily as Mistress stepped off the back of the horse.
For a while I was surrounded by bliss. But eventually that euphoria faded and I noticed the sticky wetness between my legs, and my behind felt very sore. I really wanted to get off that darned horse. Still gagged, I tried to plead with my eyes for Mistress to untie me. She smiled in response.
“Well, that was fun. Want to go at it again?”
I shook my head. No, please no.
“I thought as much.” She grinned as she pushed the red button again. I squealed as the horse rose up and started to move around. The penetrator started pumping as well.
“It's not fair you should have all the fun,” Mistress called out from the side. “Let me join in too.” She picked up a wicked bull whip, which she uncoiled around her.
The turning of the horse took her out of my field of vision, but a sudden sharp crack next to me made me groan with fright.
“This will do just fine,” Mistress said as the horse turned me towards her again. The leather of the whip was curling around her like a living serpent.
The horse pointed its behind towards Mistress. A sharp sting went through my left thigh, making me grunt and moan. Another one hit my behind.
“Woohoo! Ride her, horsey!” Mistress called out as the stings of the whip and the movement of the horse and dildo started to encompass my entire existence.
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
To those following ASP a serious Mea Maxima Culpa for the long delay, I won’t bore you with any excuses or explanations suffice to say it’s been a struggle, I just couldn’t finish it in one chapter so the next one will definitely complete it and it won’t take nearly as long to post. I have included an illustration which does not exactly reflect any scene in this chapter but could be set somewhere in Robert’s continuing feminisation. I have deliberately used a different model with short hair making him look more masculine to increase his humiliation– perhaps a punishment by his mistress for some misdemeanour. I would usually caption this but decided it may be a good idea rather than inflict my own nonsense on you the reader - why not have readers submit their own caption. It might be fun.
Many thanks as usual to all who ticked the more button and those who were kind enough to comment, it really is very much appreciated. Anyway I hope you enjoy it and apologies once more for the delay.
A Suitable Position©
I’m not half the man I used to be
there’s a shadow hanging over me.
Rozamund Kirchen gracefully lowered herself onto the large comfortable couch in the drawing room of her exquisitely furnished home and as all refined and elegant women do demurely arranged the skirt of her peach silk crepe de chine dress around her knees. As she settled into the couch’s softness she took stock of the events of the last two weeks, the arrival of the only male she had ever permitted into her employ. By any measure it was a most unusual arrangement, she had employed Robert Kilcoyne, a boy of tender years nineteen or so and travelling abroad for the first time, as a domestic servant. However due to an unfortunate but outrageous misunderstanding on the part of her beloved but interfering aunt regarding the youth’s sex, his role as her servant was not now the usual one accorded to a male. As her aunt had mistaken him for a girl she had insisted he dress in an appropriate fashion and bizarrely he now undertook his duties dressed in the uniform of a housemaid. Of course she had thought of correcting her aunt’s error but seeing the startling change the uniform made to the boy she was extremely curious as to how this situation would unfold. His transformation was reasonably convincing but not totally so, at least not to her. However his position as a female servant appeared to be central in diluting the arrogance and ego that she found all males possessed and this feature of his confinement in female clothing she found most intriguing. In fact such was his progress in his new role she was actively considering training him as her personal maid. Her very close friend Maxine, the Countess of Argyll and her own housemaid Greta were the only others who were aware of her new maidservant’s true sex. As she sipped her morning Darjeeling from the delicate Dresden her thoughts turned to the boy who was presently in the servants quarters receiving further instruction from Greta.
This is a most remarkable turn of events, the very idea of a male with all that macho arrogance being reduced to the status of a female servant is truly extraordinary, obviously he is not happy with the situation but at least he recognises that his contract obliges him to conform to my conditions. I had never given any consideration as to how a male would react if he had to portray himself as a female after all everything about them is so different to us and not just physical attributes. Robert or should I say Daphne, has got quite a nice bosom due to that curious medical condition which I suppose makes his appearance more feminine but there are still major differences not least the gauche way in which he carries himself but also this insufferable and inflexible male attitude. He may think he is fooling me but I strongly suspect that despite the outward appearance of femininity his uniform and his foundation garments give, that stubborn maleness is not allowing him to fully embrace his new role as a male maid. A male maid! I still can’t quite believe I actually have a uniformed male maid. Of course now there are so many possibilities I could retain him as a domestic servant but observing how he adapted to his new circumstances during our visits to the Institute and Frau Kaufmann’s premises I wonder is there a possibility of setting him on the road to achieving a lasting femininity? I’m sure he would resist of course as those foolish males do but it really would be intriguing to see if it could actually be done, there is no doubt he certainly has the potential and I honestly think it would benefit him in the long run. I abhor males in general but every now and then there is a member of that pathetic sex -, that unknown to themselves- there lies deep within them the seeds of a sweet and truly feminine nature and all it needs to manifest itself is a kind but strict mentor and of course the proper environment. Obviously in the physical sense he could never be a true female but perhaps psychologically he could be trained to recognise his feminine side and come to see that his future would be best served in embracing this side of his personality.
The more I think about it the more I see it would be remiss ….no, negligent of me if I failed to allow a male with such capabilities achieve his true potential and escape the tyranny of masculinity, it would be tantamount to failing to save a puppy from a life of cruelty and misery.. Hopefully he will learn that submitting to my will is for his own good and can only benefit him. Greta is of course ensuring that he is being properly trained in all aspects of domestic service, naturally wearing a maid’s uniform will help greatly to instil a sense of humility and obedience which will be most beneficial when I decide to enhance his feminisation. I must make it my mission to ensure he is not allowed to fail, I may discuss future plans with Maxine over tea when she arrives shortly although I suspect she may have set her own sights on him.
In the library Robert was going about his duties dusting and polishing, so intent was he on his task that he did not realise he was alone until he stopped to ask Greta if he could adjust his bra strap. It was one of the most degrading features of his new life and there we so many of those to choose from, the constricting foundation garments, the soft and delicate feminine lingerie, not to mention his hideous uniform. He also had to ask for permission for practically everything, to speak, to sit, to go to the bathroom, his every action was controlled and supervised by either Greta or Madam. Frau Kirchen had decided shortly after he had returned from his harrowing visits to the Institute and Frau Kaufmann’s store that as feminine deportment did not come naturally to him he would require close supervision and to this end he should be constantly in the presence of another female so his shortcomings could be easily and quickly corrected. He had to admit that there were one or two occasions in those establishments that his lack of a natural feminine bearing put him in danger of being discovered so while he hated the idea he had to concede that if he was not to be revealed as a male in female clothing there was some merit in being coached in feminine conduct and poise- at least in the short term. But by far the most humiliating aspect was the punishment he received if Madam or Greta had considered he was not making sufficient progress. The ritual – for that’s what it was- took place every morning after he had served Madam her breakfast in her bedroom. He had to stand in front of her while Greta gave a report on his performance the previous day, it usually consisted of two parts the first was how proficiently he carried out his duties as a housemaid and the second was how successfully he was in assimilating feminine mannerisms and characteristics. Now alone for the first time in days his mind drifted back, several days ago perhaps even weeks for he was now losing track of time to when he first had to stand hands folded in front of his apron and listen to Greta make her report on his development.
“As a housemaid Madam he is making reasonable progress, his dusting and polishing are adequate but his bed making is still not up to standard, obviously it will take him a little time to adjust to his new position and master his tasks. There is an absentmindedness about him which sometimes makes him clumsy, his mind appears to wander and doesn’t seem to concentrate on his duties, I find in his walk there is a little too much of a stride for a woman, and his gestures are somewhat abrupt, such awkwardness might endanger a cup of tea for your visitors on occasion, which no doubt Madam would be very embarrassing.”
“Mmm, that is a bit disappointing Greta but I suppose we must make allowances for the boy however you are right of course if he is to be successful in his new career he must commit fully and adopt the correct attitude.” she said addressing Greta but her eyes lingered on Robert, she continued in a soft almost sympathetic voice “I assume you are having some difficulty in coming to terms with your new role…. dear boy?”
This to Robert was a gross understatement he wholeheartedly resented his current circumstances, he had spent every day except his first in this house wearing a maid’s uniform and had been paraded in public dressed as a girl not to mention been forced to strip down to his horribly restricting underwear in the presence of other servant girls, an experience which almost led to his exposure as a male. Much as he tried to retain his grip on his masculinity the uniform he was wearing was a constant reminder of his reduction from a confident male to that of a maid servant. It was with these thoughts and the fear of serious retribution swirling around his head that he answered his mistress.
“A little, Madam.”
“Yes, I’m sure you are.” she said sitting forward in the bed.
“You see what I mean Madam about his lack of attention to detail” Greta said shaking her head in disappointment before speaking sharply to Robert “plump Madam’s pillows….. girl!”
“Sorry Madam.” Robert blurted and practically ran to the bed, cursing himself for not remembering to do it sooner after all Greta had told him about this several times.
“Mmmm….. yes I do see what you mean Greta.” she said, her tone sounding more sad than displeased as she leaned forward allowing Robert to complete his task. After he had finished he meekly returned to his place in front of her, hands folded once more in the required position. She continued her lecture.
“Now Robert I’m sure that you think you are trying your best but you must understand that I am training you to be a lady’s maid, a very important and prestigious position for a young girl, you really must learn to anticipate my wishes, it should become almost second nature to you. I had hoped that once you were in uniform you would begin to understand how you should behave and adapt to your position with a little more enthusiasm, however wearing your uniform does not appear to have been sufficient motivation to instil in you the necessary attitude and demeanour of a female servant. I feel that perhaps you may need a little extra reminder to ensure you’re constantly aware of your status and the….. well…. shall we say, servility that is required if you are to achieve your true potential. Now, be so kind as to fetch my hairbrush.”
He desperately wanted to run from the room but his legs had turned to lead. The order to get her hairbrush meant only one thing- he was to be punished in the most humiliating fashion, he’d already had the misfortune of having to subject himself to such an ignominious experience and for a moment he hesitated which immediately registered a slight look of impatience or perhaps irritation on Frau Kirchen’s face. He’d seen that look before, it almost dared him to refuse but deep inside he knew it would be worse for him if he had done so, he meekly walked to the dressing table and picked up the antique sliver hair brush embossed with the initials RK in large ornate lettering and noticed it was about the same size as the palm of his hand. When he returned with the brush she was standing at the end of the bed, he handed it to her and waited for her inevitable order.
“I think you know what to do dear boy.” she said as she pointed to the end of the bed.
He could feel the tears of shame well up inside as he moved to the end of the large bed, he caught Greta’s eye and noticed that her face was quite flushed and she appeared to be breathing heavily her breasts rising and falling quickly with each inhalation. He instinctively knew that to delay would incur her ire and did not even consider such an action, he lifted the skirt of his uniform and assumed the now familiar and utterly shameful position, as he buried his face in the softness of the burgundy satin quilt he heard her continue,
“Now Robert, I do hope you realise this is not a punishment but merely a gentle reminder of your obligation to be more eager and enthusiastic while performing your duties as well as making a determined effort to carry yourself in a much more feminine manner. You do understand this, now don’t you, dear boy?”
“Yes Madam.” he answered, his voice a mere whimper as he anticipated the first blow.
“Do you remember the qualities I told you were required of a lady’s maid?” she asked pausing for a second before she gently brought the brush down on his satin clad right buttock.
“Obedience, devotion, discretion and subservience Madam.” he replied and despite barely feeling the blow he felt an enormous shame coursing through his body as the words left his mouth.
“Precisely, but obviously being a male you lack the most essential quality – femininity. You will try harder to be more feminine, now won’t you?” she said softly as the second slap landed on his left buttock with a little more force.
“Yes Madam.” he answered.
“I would like you to say it out loud dear boy.” she purred. “and this time convince me you really mean it.”
“I will try to be more feminine and graceful in future Madam.” he said his voice somewhere between a sob and a whimper. Another wave of humiliation washed over him as the brush once more found its target.
And so it went on for several more wallops, each one eliciting an admission that he had not yet acquired the necessary requirements to fulfil his duties in the manner a proper female domestic would. These admissions in their turn extracted a promise that he would become a more feminine and demure servant willing to discard any remaining masculine traits. He would become a girl a mistress would not be ashamed to have in her service and proud to wear his uniform as a symbol of his obedience to his mistress. By the end of his “gentle reminder” Robert had committed to developing a set of characteristics which he had already recognised in the ultra-feminine and servile girls he had met in Frau Kaufmann’s premises, characteristics his mistress said were extremely suited to his new position.
His brain was in turmoil from the indignity he had just endured and he suddenly felt this latest humiliation was really was too much, the thought struck him that if he remained in her employ for much longer he would soon lose his masculinity and become as servile as those girls, he silently promised himself that he would formulate a plan of escape, but for now if he was to avoid further punishments he would have to continue to try and convince her and Greta he really was participating in this charade.
“You may rise.” Frau Kaufmann instructed and he slid off the plump satin material, his face red with shame he settled his uniform around his legs.
“Now that wasn’t too bad, was it my dear?” she asked the humiliated boy.
“No Madam.” he lied trying valiantly to fight back his tears and without even thinking he added meekly “Thank you Madam.”
I can’t believe I just thanked her for spanking me, I really have to get out of here. he screamed inside his addled brain.
“As I said a gentle reminder….. but one I think we should repeat for the next few days….”she said breathing heavily “at least until we see a significant improvement in your progress.”. He thought her face was slightly flushed as she handed him the brush and giving him a gentle smile which he understood conveyed a message that she was genuine in her belief that this mild chastisement was indeed for his own good. He remained silent as she dabbed a bead of moisture from her forehead and upper lip, after a moment or two she regained her composure and continued,
“I am very pleased that you have also accepted the direction in which you must go if you are to transform from an awkward servant into the ideal maid, adaptability and a sense that a mistress knows what’s best for her maid is something I find rare in a servant girl these days. Indeed, you have shown remarkable intelligence in accepting my analysis of your progress so far.”
He found it very difficult to hear her speak of her degradation of him as if it was a virtue and as she was speaking, somewhere deep inside his own being he could feel a stirring of his masculinity and just as he was about to speak she put her finger to his lips.
“Hush, dear boy, there is no need to thank me.” she whispered and nodded to Greta, who stepped forward and taking an envelope from the nightstand handed it to him.
“Go ahead open it.” Frau Kirchen said.
The nascent rebellion ebbed away as he looked at the figure on the bank draft. The trauma of the last weeks had almost made him forget the reason he took this position in the first place. What he held in his hands should be enough to fulfil his life’s ambition - to have his hated feminine breasts removed. He always feared deep down that his aunts who were in control of his trust fund for several years to come would never sanction him spending money on what they considered an unnatural and totally unnecessary procedure. Now he would never again have to seek their permission, his destiny was now in his own hands and soon he would be free of these horrible feminine mounds. Southern Germany was less than an hour away by train, very quickly a plan began forming in his head and he became a little lightheaded at the prospect of escape -for that’s what it would be. Momentarily he forgot about this latest punishment, only one in the long line humiliations he had endured, in his mind’s eye he could see his plan unfold. It would be so simple, gather his clothes a few days before the day of escape and on that morning catch the early train, he could be over the border while Frau Kirchen and Greta were still asleep. At last he could see light at the end of the tunnel, another week maybe two and he would………
“I see our girl is a little surprised at her first pay cheque.” Frau Kirchen voice slowly penetrated his brain and he was suddenly aware of both women looking intently at him, for a second or two seized by a fit of irrationality he imagined they had read his thoughts and it took him a further few seconds before he gathered himself to respond correctly.
“Thank you Madam.” he gushed, curtsying, a gesture that was subconsciously now becoming second nature even to the extent that he had stopped admonishing himself for performing such a submissive feminine action.
“It is what we agreed, you are a maidservant after all not a slave, you have agreed to my terms and I am merely honouring my contractual obligations.” she said and as she came closer her face softened, she cupped his face in her hands “I do hope you will come to realise…..that I am doing this for your own good. You have deep inside you what very few of your sex possess, the capability to abandon the arrogant macho traits of the male and embrace the gentler, softer side of your being which has been repressed for so long. It would make all our lives so much easier if you would embrace femininity………. rather than be forced into it.”
Robert was still recovering from the shock of figure he saw on the bank draft he was still holding in his hands and as he heard her speak any doubts he had about escaping disappeared, he would have to escape soon otherwise he would face weeks possibly months of this continuing humiliation of being forced to dress as a maid.
“I understand Madam.” he lied.
“Now run along I wish to speak to Greta.” she said waving her hand to dismiss him as she withdrew to the window seat.
That episode took place almost a week ago and the same scene was played out over the following days until for some reason it suddenly stopped two days ago, Robert wondered about this as he took a well- earned break from his dusting and polishing duties in the library, he had heard Madam ring for Greta and knew it would be several minutes before she reappeared.
“Embrace your femininity!” he sighed out loud as he recalled the words she used that day and continued to use almost every day like a mantra, “doesn’t she understand that’s the last thing I want.” He sashayed to the mirror to check his hair was still presentable, he adjusted his frilled cap slightly and noticed that his lipstick needed a little retouching.
“I really don’t think so.” he said out loud as he puckered his lips to apply the lipstick which he retrieved from his apron pocket, when he was satisfied he automatically twirled around to check his rear in the mirror.
“Oh dear my slip is showing.” he blurted as the lace hem of his slip peaked from under his uniform he expertly made adjustments to the garment’s bra straps then lifted the dress to ensure it hung at the right length.
“I just knew this was the wrong slip to wear today” he continued “it is a lovely colour and I really like the lace hem but it’s just a little too long but then it is Madam’s and not my own.”
He admonished himself for this very feminine reaction which he realised was becoming more frequent but as he saw it, this was an unfortunate but understandable consequence of his predicament. The first week in Madam’s employ naturally had a traumatic effect on him but in recent days he had, if not exactly come to terms with it, had certainly become more used to dressing in female clothing. It was after all something he had little control over and knew if he even showed a hint of rebellion it would be the worse for him in the long run and although he grudgingly accepted that she had not transformed him into a maid out of malice he also knew that he if he had any hope of retaining his masculinity he would have to bend to her regimen or risk being broken by it completely. Of course he knew there would probably be a price to pay, having to dress and act in a feminine manner twenty four hours each day seven days a week would take its tool and no male could avoid picking up at least some female characteristics during this time, it was inevitable. Little things began seeping into his consciousness, curtsying became natural in her presence, in his thoughts he was also aware he was now referring to Frau Kirchen as Madam something he found disturbing but at the same time for some reason very difficult to stop, he put this down to having to use this form of address to her many times during the day. For the same reason he had also began to refer to Madam as ‘the mistress’ when answering phone calls – “I’m sorry your ladyship the mistress is not here at the moment” or “Yes Madam I will inform the mistress you called.” He was also mindful that this form of address sounded very subservient but felt it was better than risking further discipline from the mistress, she was incredibly perceptive- scarily so in fact and at times ridiculous as it sounded he thought there were times she could read his mind. He knew he could not engage in any kind of rebellion after all there was too much to consider – at best further beatings and the ensuing humiliation at worst the loss of the large salary which would enable him to fulfil his dream. And of course there was always the constant mention of the Institute when she reviewed his progress reports, something which always concentrated his mind. He quickly came to the conclusion that because he was living and dressing as a female servant these things were bound to happen and while regrettable he felt once he did not slip any further into this subservient role his masculinity in some form would remain intact but it made him even more aware that he had to get away from this house sooner rather than later. His mind drifted once again as his eyes wandered to the mirror, this seemed to be another female trait he had acquired the constant need to check his appearance. He rose from the chair and stood in front of it and once more examined the creature looking back at him, he made a slight modification to his apron straps and as he looked out one of the library’s large window’s his thoughts turned once again to his situation.
Well at least Madam has stopped my punishment, that’s something I suppose. Those spankings were dreadful but I suppose she wasn’t too severe with the hairbrush and perhaps it’s only natural for a lady of her stature, she needs to be sure that I don’t embarrass her in front of her friends by making a silly mistake. And I must say she is very patient, I was certainly a bit clumsy when I was dressing her on a few occasions, it did take me a while to get used to attaching her stockings to her garters but thankfully she was very even tempered I’d hate to think how the Countess would have reacted in the same situation, I would have definitely have got the hairbrush and she wouldn’t be as gentle. I remember at home Aunt Amelia chastising Jenny her maid for not arranging her lingerie drawer to her satisfaction, she didn’t make the same mistake twice. Now that I recall, when Jenny arrived she wasn’t the most graceful or deferential girl for the position of lady’s maid but after a few weeks attending to my aunts she became quite acceptable due in no small way to the odd application of a hairbrush to her plump behind. I often heard my aunts say training a lady’s maid was a life- long exercise for the mistress as well as the maid. I think Jenny made several attempts to leave but for some reason was always persuaded to stay, at least I think she was persuaded, anyway now she is quite docile and subservient.
She was a girl though and girls are more compliant and submissive, that shouldn’t happen to me though, I don’t plan to be here that long.
He heard Madam’s bell ring and without having to think he once more checked his hair and face in the mirror. It was one of the things she reprimanded him about as she administered one of her more forceful thrashings apparently she intensely disliked if her servants were even the least bit unkempt or not groomed to her standards so it was in his best interests to be as presentable as possible, it would certainly prevent further punishment. He quickly made his way to the drawing room and after knocking was instructed to enter.
“You rang Madam.” he gave the customary response to the servant’s bell, his curtsy followed automatically.
From her chair Frau Kirchen spent a few moments viewing the creature standing in front of her.
He really does seem to be improving day by day she said to herself as her eyes examined every inch of the boy, I wonder what’s going on in that pretty little male brain of his, not that it matters I suppose but I am getting used to having him around, he does make an excellent maid but I’m convinced he could be so much more. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a daughter, someone I could dress up and make pretty but daughters once they reach a certain age get too independent and think they know it all. It would be nice to have someone to accompany me to certain social engagements, someone pretty but in a non- conventional sense, someone to set tongues wagging. I wonder……..
While his mistress was contemplating this Robert stood motionless in this now familiar and subservient pose, his hands folded in front of his apron and eyes lowered awaiting her verdict but by now he was confident he would pass her close scrutiny.
“Pretty as a picture, he really is improving wonderfully.” Frau Kirchen beamed at Greta “you have done a marvellous job.”
“Thank you Madam.” Greta replied clearly very pleased with her mistress’s praise “of course he has his moments where he regresses but overall he is a willing pupil.”
He listened to both of them discuss his progress at length and thought there was a time not so long ago he would have been furious but as he had just reflected in the library a few moments previously this was one of those times where he just had to quell his anger and accept it. Any hint of irritation or temper would lead to only one place- face down on the soft satin quilt of Madam’s bed. After a lengthy discussion on his continuing development as a servant girl Madam finally stood up and went to her desk.
“Well pretty as a picture he may be but unfortunately he will have to revert to male clothing.” Madam sighed.
He was only barely listening to the conversation after all he’d had to suffer this indignity several times before and was now well used to his mistress’s and Greta’s observations on his performance right now he was concentrating on other things, there was so much to do as a lady’s maid. He was trying to decide whether it would be more efficient to wash Madam’s lingerie before or after he cleaned her bathroom. Then for some reason his brain registered the words ‘male clothing’ and his eyes opened wide much in the same way a child’s does when offered a special treat, this did not go unnoticed by his mistress.
“Yes Daphne, male clothing I’m afraid.” she feigned disappointment and noticing his face lighting up continued, “it seems your visa has expired and in order to avoid police detention you have to attend at the relevant government department with your employer in order to have it renewed. Obviously your passport says you’re a….ahem …….male so I suppose you can’t go dressed like that.”
“No Madam.” he blurted, his excitement getting the better of him “my clothes are …..”
“Please do not interrupt girl.” she scolded him before continuing “Your clothes are dreadful and naturally I am not going to accompany a servant of mine in grubby clothes to an official appointment I have selected some appropriate clothing for the occasion. Greta has laid them out on your bed, now run along like a good girl and put them on.”
Robert’s euphoria subsided immediately.
“Yes Madam.” he said hoping he sounded enthusiastic as he curtsied and withdrew.
“Oh Robert.” she called as he reached the door, she had noticed that interchanging his male and female names unsettled him, something she found quite entertaining and it amused her to do it now and then “unfortunately I did not have any male lingerie so I think it’s best if you remain in the set you have on……….we can’t have you going out without underwear now can we?”
“No Madam.” he was forced to agree while trying to hide his bitter disappointment that he would have to remain in the restricting garments, he was only too well aware from previous experience that to object would only aggravate his situation.
“I’m so glad you agree” she smiled sweetly “besides you’ll probably feel much more comfortable now that you’re used to wearing proper underwear.”
“Yes Madam.” he lied once more and was relieved when she waved her hand to dismiss him.
Oh shit, this doesn’t sound good he thought as he closed the door behind him and made his way to his bedroom.
Any hope he held that there would be a decent set of male clothing waiting for him were soon dashed as he looked at what was laid out on the bed but he did console himself that at least he would be wearing trousers once more. He quickly undressed eager to once again pull on a pair of pants even if he did have to wear a girdle underneath. He held them up to examine them and cursed silently - women’s Capri pants - but at least they were pants he thought, however his heart sank when he saw they had a cropped leg which he quickly calculated would sit six inches above his ankle exposing his nude colour panty-hosed leg. He briefly thought about removing his bra but when he noticed there was a jacket on the bed he thought it might just cover his breasts sufficiently and Madam did say he wasn’t to change his underwear. He hurriedly pulled on the shirt Greta had also left out, shirt was a misrepresentation he thought, it was white silk, had gold buttons but no collar and worst of all had parallel pleats either side of the buttons. He slipped his feet into a pair of patent leather shoes which had a one inch heel, he put on the collarless teal jacket which was fitted and hugged him a little too tightly, he was horrified to see it too was cropped and decidedly feminine but at least he felt it helped cover his breasts. Despite these obvious feminine features he desperately hoped this ensemble would at least in some way project even a vaguely masculine look he quickly moved to the mirror to view the result.
“Madam can’t be serious.” he said out loud as he closely examined his reflection. “I look ridiculous, nothing like a male.”
It briefly crossed his mind that he would nearly prefer to go out in a dress rather than this outfit and he was on the point of taking it off when he heard Madam’s bell ring. Despite what Madam had repeatedly said about his shortcomings as a maidservant he had indeed learned several valuable lessons during these weeks of domestic servitude one of which was discerning Madam’s moods by the way she rang her bell and now hearing its incessant and annoying tinkle told him she was very impatient. He equated the agitated sound of the bell with a possible imminent punishment, all thoughts of his embarrassing new outfit were immediately dismissed as he quickly made his way down stairs where Madam awaited him in the hallway.
“Ah yes…. Very nice, don’t you think so Greta.” Frau Kirchen said examining the youth in front of her.
“Yes Madam, very macho. I’m so used to seeing him in his uniform I barely recognised him.” The maid said, he thought he heard a hint of a snigger in her remark but couldn’t be sure, “it’s a little chilly this morning Madam perhaps he should wear gloves. I hope you don’t mind but I thought these would complement his outfit perfectly.”
She produced a pair of kidskin gloves a shade or two lighter than his jacket with a small but prominent silk rose on the back of each glove.
“What an excellent idea Greta.” Madam said clearly delighted as she handed them to the boy who pulled them on. Greta helpfully assisted drawing them past his wrist, there was a gap of two or three inches to the sleeves of his jacket. Greta encouraged by Frau Kirchen’s reaction then produced a box.
“Perhaps Madam would consider this to complete his outfit.” Greta said and from the box she produced a cloche hat with a silk rose attached to the hat’s satin band.”
Robert cringed as Madam placed the hat on his head and stood back to take in the boy’s new accessories.
“Wonderful suggestion Greta, it really does complete his ensemble.” she said.
“I’ll just freshen you up before we leave, this is a special fragrance I’ve had my perfumer blend for you.” Madam said as she took a perfume bottle from Greta and sprayed him liberally, she gave him a coquettish smile as she showed him the bottle, looking into his eyes she inhaled deeply and read from the label, “‘Apron and Cap’ - a scent for the superior lady’s maid, subdued yet undoubtedly feminine.”
He squirmed and lowered his eyes but she placed her fingers under his chin and raised his head.
“‘Cap and Apron, Subdued but undoubtedly feminine’.” she repeated and smiled sweetly, looking directly into his eyes she added “It will be a reminder of your position, we don’t want you getting too cocky now that you’re wearing trousers, now do we? Cocky, how ironic”
Both she and Greta tittered at the remark, Robert cringed.
“No Madam.” he answered thinking there wasn’t much chance of that dressed as he was.
“Excellent, the documents you will need for your interview are inside.” she said and his heart sank as she handed him a large quilted double handled handbag and headed for the door where Greta stood holding it open, looking at the now bewildered and confused youth with gleeful look on her face.
“My, you do look handsome.” she said as he approached her.
Well maybe I don’t look that bad. he said to himself acknowledging her compliment with a smile as he passed her.
“I just love your Fendi handbag I’m sure all the girls will be so jealous.” she giggled, the fragile confidence he had felt stirring was immediately nipped in the bud.
He followed his mistress to the waiting car and knew that once they arrived at their destination she would be the only thing standing between him and exposure to public ridicule. As the car pulled away from the house his sense of helplessness increased and he realised he was now even more dependent on her than ever. Smiling benevolently at the feminised boy beside her, Rozamund Kirchen thought exactly the same thing.
Saturday, March 7, 2015
Chapter 14: The Runaway. Cheryl has escaped Mistress Margot's clutches.
I felt the van gently swing side to side as it drove along the curved roads that twisted around the hills. It was dark in the van's cargo space, but I remained hidden under a box. I had barely moved since we had driven off, as if I was afraid Jeanne was waiting for me to reveal myself. My behind had gone numb from sitting on the hard floor.
My mind was racing, though. I felt elated that I had actually managed to escape, but also confused and frightened. I had no plan beyond this stage, so what should I do now? Warn the driver I was in here? Explain my predicament and ask her to take me somewhere safe?
And where would that be, exactly? The US consulate, perhaps? I was a US citizen, and surely they would be obliged to offer me assistance. In these clothes I could simply walk in there, reveal my identity and ask for a new passport.
The van shook as it hit a pothole, and my breasts bounced. Silently, I grunted. I would have to get rid of these boobs first, though. And my feminine hair too, or I would have one heck of a time explaining I was actually a man.
Perhaps I should go to the police, I thought. Of all that had happened to me last month, some of it had to be illegal, surely. But would I have the courage to sit in front of real men, and tell them how a couple of women had turned me into a pathetic sissy girl? I shuddered at the thought.
Why did I not bring Mikaela's phone number with me? She would take me somewhere safe. But now I had no idea how to contact her.
I even thought about Mistress Christina. She had warned me about Mistress Margot, showed concern for me. I could go back to her, I thought. Tell her how horrible Mistress Margot had been and beg her for me to remain with her, let me be her maid again.
I felt regret as I discarded that idea. She would immediately send me back to Mistress Margot I thought, stern and uncompromising as she was. But what put me off most was the look of disappointment I feared. 'Everything you do reflects on me, Cheryl,' I could almost hear her say. 'You are such a letdown. Begone from my sight, girl. I do not want to see you again.' I felt like sobbing just from imagining it.
In the end I just sat there as my mind went in circles, feeling more and more miserable as the euphoria over my escape dwindled into uncertainty. It first I didn't even realize the van had slowed down and was preparing to stop.
The breaks squeaked and the compartment shuddered as the vehicle came to a halt. The car door opened and slammed shut as the driver got out. I heard her walk past the back of the van, then a loud click followed by the rattling of a garage door as it closed.
I heard the driver whistle as she approached the back of the van. The cargo doors opened and bright light fell onto my hiding place.
Between two boxes I saw the outline of the driver standing in the opening, still whistling, holding a clipboard. She stepped into the cargo compartment, checked one of the boxes, and wrote something down. She checked the label of other boxes, and worked her way towards my hiding place.
I don't really know why, but I remained hidden, not moving, breathing silently. She came to the box that I had pulled over me, and with a satisfied grunt, the picked it up.
She lifted it to the side, and saw my eyes look into hers. I sat there, paralysed. She looked at me in confusion, then yelled as she dropped the box. She stepped back and almost tripped herself on another box that was behind her.
Startled by her cry, I put my hands up. “Wait! I mean you no harm! Don't be afraid! “
Well, she certainly wasn't. When she regained her balance, she held her hands up in a combat pose, and snarled something at me I couldn't understand.
“What? I don't understand,” I said as I held my hands before my face protectively. “English? You speak English?”
She kicked the box in front of me to the side, her face looking like she was ready to give me a pounding. She said something that sounded like a curse.
“Please! I mean you no harm!” I wailed. “I need your help. Please. Do you speak English? Sprechen Sie English?”
“English?” She said uncertainly, then I saw realization in her eyes. “Anglais? Je ne parle-pas Anglais. Tu parle Francais?” She saw me blink in confusion. “No... English. You... talk... Francais? French?” She said with much difficulty.
I shook my head. “No French. Keine Francais...” I said with my best effort. “Please, I need your help,” I said meekly. I felt tears in my eyes.
“Who... are you, fille?” She said sternly, but she had lowered her fists. Now that she had determined I wasn't an immediate threat, she observed me with watchful interest.
I pointed at myself “Cheryl. My name is Cheryl,” I said immediately. Then the realization of my stupidity hit me. “No, wait! I'm not Cheryl. My name is Charles. Charles!” Only then did I realize I had been talking with why feminine voice.
“Cheryl?” She replied.
“Not Cheryl. Charles!” I tried to speak with my male voice, but after weeks of burying it deep beneath high pitched female tones it caused my throat to itch and I started to cough.
“Cheryl Charles?” She said now.
Oh, forget it, I thought. I just nodded in confirmation.
She pointed at herself. “Adrienne,” she said.
I muttered a 'pleased to meet you', but she didn't understand me.
“Why... You here... Girl?” She asked me difficultly.
“No, I'm not a girl! I'm a man. I wear male clothes, see?” I pulled at the fabric of the gardener's outfit. “Please, I need your help. I escaped. I ran away from Mistress Margot. She's horrible! She put me in these clothes. Well, not these clothes, but female clothes. She ties me up and then takes me to the penalty box. I also have to play her games. I could not take it anymore. She is mean, and her two maids are mean too. They spank me if I misbehave, but I'm never sure how they want me to behave. I could not get off her estate, so I had to sneak into your van to escape, but now I do not know where I am or where I should be going...” I rattled on, like a floodgate that had been opened.
She looked at me with an incredulous expression. “Quoi?” She asked me confused.
I sighed. She didn't understand a word I was saying. I started to cry as today's strain finally overwhelmed me.
As I was sobbing I felt a hand on my shoulder and another holding my hand. “Ne pleure pas, fille. You... No cry,” the woman called Adrienne said as she squatted besides me. She gently urged me up and shakily I got on my feet.
She guided me out of the back of the van, saying gentle words I could not understand but sounded comforting and encouraging nonetheless. She helped me step out of the van into the bright light of the room we were in.
It looked like a warehouse, with a grey concrete floor, corrugated iron roof and divided into aisles by large metal shelves on which pallets and boxes of all shapes and sizes were stored. I didn't see anyone, nor did I hear any activity except for us, so I assumed we were alone.
We walked around a forklift parked close to a door. With one arm around my shoulders, she guided me through the doorway into a small cafeteria and sat me down onto a chair. Walking over to the kitchenette she poured me and herself cup of coffee.
She gave me a handkerchief to dry my tears, and sat down next to me as she placed the cups on the table. I was still sobbing as I picked up my drink. It felt warm and comforting even if the taste was lousy. In the US I basically operated on caffeine, but according to Ingrid it was bad for your skin, so now I was only allowed to drink herbal tea instead. It felt liberating to indulge myself in this little vice again.
It relaxed me a bit, and had stopped crying. Adrienne tried talking to me, but we hit the same language barrier again. Oh why didn't I pay more attention to French class in High School? I just couldn't explain to her the reason why I had hidden in her van or that I needed her help. At least she seemed to understand from my waving arms and agitated hand gestures that I was distressed.
“I need to get to the US consulate!” I almost shouted, as if talking loudly would make my words clearer for her. “They took my passport, you understand? I need to get a new one if I want to get home. No, not homme! Home! United States! America!”
“You have no idea what I am saying, do you?” I asked rhetorically. “Con-su-late! Passport!” Adrienne just shrugged uncomprehending. I sighed. “Great. Just great. Escaped the mansion only to get stuck in some crummy warehouse.” Despite my desperation, I chuckled. Somehow, the situation seemed quite hilarious. “Perhaps it is for the best too, you know? Saves me the embarrassment of explaining to the consul why I look like a girl that tries to look like a man...”
I was about to cry again, when Adrienne spoke. “You... Need help?” She asked me.
I looked at her mouth agape and eyes wide as hope was rekindled. “Yes! I mean... Oui!” I cried out elated. “Help!”
She pointed at herself. “Get help,” she simply said. She got up from her chair and took out a cell phone. She dialled a number and waited for a response on the other end.
“Who are you calling?” I asked somewhat nervously.
She must have seen my concerned expression and looked at me comforting. “Help,” she simply said.
I heard a voice respond on the other end, and Adrienne began to speak as she paced around the canteen. I had no idea what she was saying, but she occasionally shot me a reassuring smile.
When she was done she put away her phone and walked over to me. She put her hand on my shoulder. “Police come,” she said.
I was fearful of explaining my humiliation predicament to the police, but realized it had to be done. I nodded thankfully.
“You wait... I work,” she said as she pointed towards the warehouse.
I muttered a confirmation and Adrienne walked out of the cafeteria, leaving me alone with my confused thoughts.
I had been waiting for at least an hour when I heard sounds coming from the warehouse. They interrupted my thoughts of what I was planning to say to the police officers, during which mental pictures kept popping into my mind. Images of two large men in uniforms from behind a metal desk in an interrogation room, laughing at me with utter contempt.
The closest of the warehouse's garage doors was opening, and I slowly got up and walked over to the cafeteria door to have a careful look. I saw the garage door slide upwards automatically as a chain rattled, revealing a car on the other side. I saw Adrienne walk over from another aisle.
When the garage door had opened sufficiently, the car drove into the warehouse. It was completely blue. Behind the wheel was a man in uniform. The police, I thought with mixed feelings. I did not move and remained hidden behind the doorpost.
No, it wasn't the police. I saw the letters of the hood of the car. 'Security' it said. The man got out of the car and approached Adrienne. He was wearing a cap with a company logo. He was of some private security firm.
Adrienne and the man greeted one another and began to talk. She glanced in the direction of the doorway. When the man followed her gaze, I stepped out of sight quickly, unwilling to be seen by him.
Stealthily I peeked around the edge of the doorway, and saw the man write something down in a little booklet, then handed Adrienne a sheet of paper.
After saying goodbye, the security man got into his car and backed out of the warehouse. Adrienne read what was on the sheet, then turned her head towards me. Her smile was gone.
When the garage door was closed she paced towards the canteen, looking furious. It frightened me, and I slowly stepped backwards.
I bumped into a table when she entered the room, her eyes burning with anger. “You! Fille!” She snarled.
“Wh... What?” I stammered.
She walked over to me, grabbed my arm and gave it a sharp tug. I squealed as she turned me around and sat me down on a chair. She held out the paper in front of my face. “You criminal?” she asked me sharply.
I looked at the paper before me. I gasped as I saw a rough drawing of my face printed on it. It was clear that it was some kind of 'wanted' poster. Most of it was in French, but at the bottom there was some text in other languages.
'...Young blonde man or woman in loose green jacket and pants. If you see someone of this description inform the police...' it read.
“This... You?” Adrienne asked me gravely as she put away the paper, already knowing the answer.
I couldn't speak. I certainly could not lie. I just nodded as I felt tears in my eyes.
Her hand short up and slapped me in my face. I felt my cheek burn as she snarled something at me which I assumed was a particularly nasty curse.
I held my hands protectively in front of my face. “No, please! You do not understand! I did not do... whatever that says. They must have discovered I escaped, and now they are looking for me. Please, you have to believe me!”
Stupid girl! I admonished myself. Someone with a mansion like Mistress Margot's must have a lot of money and power too. Of course she would have people guarding it. And now those people were looking for me. They even knew I had changed clothes!
Adrienne snarled something at me and readied another slap. I pleaded and begged for her to listen. Tears were streaming down my face.
She stayed her hand. Her eyes had softened, showing a hint of doubt. “You criminal?” She asked again.
I shook my head. “No...” I muttered.
She lowered her hand and let go of my arm. She sat down next to me, watching me. Then she sighed.
“I believe,” she said as she put her arm around me.
Trough my tears, I felt my heart jump. “You do? Oh, thank you, Adrienne.” I had put my head against her shoulder as I looked for a modicum of comfort in this dismal situation. She allowed me some time to cry and recompose myself.
She got me another cup of coffee. “Wait for police,” She said as she placed the beverage on the table. ”Say you no criminal.”
“That is impossible!” I cried “They must have informed the police already. No-one will believe me now. They are probably waiting for me to appear at the station so they can take me back.”
Adrienne looked at me. She clearly did not understand why, but from my fearful response it was obvious that waiting for the police was not an option.
But the police were already on their way, I realized with a shock. “I cannot stay here! I must leave. I must find a hiding place.”
“Safe?” Adrienne asked hesitantly.
I looked at her pleading. “Please Adrienne, I need to get out of here. Can you drive me somewhere safe?”
She thought about that for a moment, probably trying to translate what I was saying. Then she nodded “I take you safe,” she said reassuringly.
Before I realized it myself, I had flung my arms around her neck. “Thank-you-thank-you-thank-you!” I said rapidly as I hugged my startled saviour.
With an amused snigger Adrienne extricated herself from my embrace. “Need to go,” she said.
I nodded. Then a thought popped into my head. “Wait, I need to change my clothes. They are looking for someone wearing this.” I tugged at my outfit. “I have to get rid of it.”
“Clothes?” She looked uncertain. “No clothes here,” she said.
I didn't expect as much, but I remembered what Bernadette had said about removing old stuff. “There may be some in those boxes you were transporting,” I told Adrienne.
I got up from my chair and walked into the warehouse, towards the van, where I started checking the boxes. I picked up a big one. It wasn't taped shut, so I opened the cardboard lid and looked inside.
Well, the good news was that it did contain clothes. The bad news was that it was girl's clothes.
I sighed in annoyance. I was hoping for proper male clothes. But beggars can't be choosers and I really needed to get out of my current outfit. Besides, girl's clothes got me into this mess, it was only fair that they for once would help me escape. I took a deep breath and started rummaging through the broad selection of frilly dresses inside.
When I had made my selection for my disguise, I checked other boxes for additional items. Just a dress would look weird and suspicious, so I had to add matching items. Conveniently, another box contained underwear and accessories while another contained shoes.
I gathered my items and started undressing. Fortunately, Adrienne gave me some privacy as I changed my underwear. She seemed to think I really was a girl, and this was not the time to prove her wrong.
I slipped into frilly white panties and bra. Next came a corset. Though there was really no reason for me to wear one, it matched perfectly with my bra and my lingerie just did not seem complete without one. Besides, it had suspenders to keep up my stockings. I did not lace it up tightly though.
I stepped into my petticoats and pulled it around my waist. Next came the dress. It was pink satin, with a loose skirt that the petticoats gave a lot of volume. It was tight around the waist, so I tightened the corset a bit further. The top of the dress covered most of my breasts, but showed some cleavage, while my shoulders were mostly bare, with straps keeping the dress up.
It was remarkable how an old dress, which I assumed to be intended for Danielle, could fit me so well. Perhaps Mistress was getting rid of them because they were just too big for her...
The shoes were baby pink patent leather with T-straps. They had four inch heels, unfortunately, as I could not find anything lower. They fit me perfectly however.
I even found some cheap fake jewellery, from which I selected a necklace and bracelet.
Adrienne lent me her makeup set, allowing me to apply some lipstick, eye-shadow and blush. She even had two clips to fix my hair in place. She was even kind enough to give me some of her perfume, which smelled like spring flowers.
I checked my reflection in a glass panel, and struck a quick pose. This made Adrienne snigger and I quickly stopped, trying to hide my ashamed blush.
“Ready?” She asked me as she opened the passenger door of her van.
“Yes,” I answered. No way anyone would realize I was the youth in green clothes people were searching for. I allowed myself to smile. Mistress would never anticipate me dressing up as a frilly girl again to escape her! “Let's go,” I said as I minced over.
I saw Adrienne try not to smile as she saw me move about. Try and fail. If she still had wondered if I perhaps was a hardened criminal, they surely were gone now.
She closed my door and got into the van herself. She started the engine, and with a remote opened the warehouse door behind us. We backed out of the building.
“I take you safe,” Adrienne said as she steered the van onto the road.
I had no idea where we were going. Adrienne did not understand my questions, and I did not understand her explanations. Any place was better than Mistress' mansion, I reckoned.
But it wasn't safe on the road. Twice did Adrienne pull my head down and out of sight. I couldn't see what was happening, but I heard her mutter something as she evaded whatever threat she had spotted.
At some point we were surprised by a blue car with 'security' written on its side. It was too late for me to hide as the occupant forced us to stop. Heart pounding, I watched the man in blue approach our van. I desperately tried not to appear suspicious.
The man gave me a surprised look, but ignored me as he talked to Adrienne. He clearly didn't recognize me. At least my disguise had proven itself. Finally the man returned to his car and we continued on our way. I sighed while shivers ran down my spine.
Now we were driving along some road amidst the forests. It was late in the afternoon and shadows were starting to lengthen. I had no idea where we were as I could not even see the mountains above the canopy. So I just sat and waited as we drove along the curvy asphalt.
“How long until we get there?” I asked Adrienne.
She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. “Quoi?”
I had concluded that meant something like 'huh?' I pointed towards the road ahead. “Far?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not far.”
That what she said half an hour ago, I thought.
We turned another bend in the road, and suddenly Adrienne turned to me. “Down,” she said.
I looked at the road, and there was nothing suspicious that I could see. “What is it?” I asked.
“Down!” Adrienne called out. “Quick!”
She must have seen something that I did not. I doubled over, pushing my head down as far as I could, making myself as small as possible. The van was quite a high vehicle, so you probably couldn't see me sitting there bent over without standing next to the door, but I was taking no chances.
“Quiet,” she said to me. “Stay out of sight.”
I felt my heart pound again and breathed silently. Adrienne continued driving, then slowed the car. After a short while she came to a complete stop and opened her window. I heard a voice say something over an intercom, and Adrienne answered. Next I heard the rattling of a gate that was being opened.
She accelerated the van. I was about to sit upright, thinking that the danger had passed, but Adrienne pushed me down. “Not yet!”
Slowly, we drove down an inclination and suddenly the lights grew dim as we entered a building, where she parked the car.
“Don't move,” Adrienne said as she got out of the car. Keeping my head down, I heard her walk over to my door and pull the handle.
“Come with me. Hurry.” She held out her hand.
Groggy from the blood that had rushed to my head, I took her hand and she helped me out of the van. I quickly looked around me. We were in some parking space, but the lights were off and it was dark inside. My heels clicked as Adrienne hurried me towards a door in the wall.
She put her hand in the handle. “In here,” she said. “Quickly.”
Adrienne opened the door for me and I stepped over the threshold. My heels clicked as I stepped on a marble floor.
“Found you,” Mistress Margot said. “You lose, sissy. Such a shame, you were doing so well.”
My eyes were wide, mouth agape. She was standing right there in the hallway, which I now recognized as the corridor behind the Mansion's basement garage. She was smiling maliciously. Jeanne and Bernadette were standing behind her, their own grins almost as vicious.
“Did little Cheryl here give you any trouble, Adrienne?” Mistress asked as she kept her eyes on me.
“Not at all,” I heard her voice say behind me in flawless English, while I was transfixed by Mistress Margot. “Didn't even have to suggest dressing as a girl again. Came up with the idea herself! Hold still, dear...”
I turned my head in dismay, towards the one I had thought to be my saviour. But she was already behind me, snapped one cuff around my right wrist and grabbing the left.
Before I had even processed what was happening here, she had cuffed my arms behind my back and casually walked over to Mistress Margot.
“Cheryl, may I introduce you to Adrienne Mayeaux, head of security. She makes sure nobody makes off with my property. Or that my property makes off.” The two maids laughed. Adrienne just nodded. "Enchanté, c'est un plaisir."
“No...” I said. It sounded like a whisper. I stepped back.
Mistress Margot tilted her head to the side. “Jeanne? Bernadette?” She nodded in my direction.
“No... No...” I said again, voice quivering. My mind didn't register the two maids approaching me from both sides, hands grabbing me.
Mistress Margot walked up to me, stroked the side of my face. I was paralysed under her touch.
“You know, I was starting to wonder if you were just cowardly. You earlier had a very obvious opportunity to run for it, and I was certain that even you weren't stupid enough to simply miss it.” She smiled condescendingly.
“But I guess still have a sliver of courage. When you came upon an escape route even you couldn't overlook, you dared to make a break for it. Bravo.” She slowly clapped sarcastically.
“Let's not dwell on the fact that it was me who had arranged for you to find some male clothes and then basically pointed you to the exit.” She said as she was rolling with her eyes.
I felt like I had been hit with a sledgehammer and ice water at the same time. She had allowed me to escape? It was another one of her games?
“But even then you really didn't think this through, did you? Trusting strangers? Don't you know it can be dangerous out there for little girls like you? Tisk tisk.” She shook her head.
“Oh well, I'm just happy you came back safe and sound. That is all that matters, right?” She spoke cheerfully. Not a trace of anger in her voice.
“Mistress? You... are not mad?” I whispered incredulously.
“Mad? My dear, I am delighted. I like my sissies to have a little spunk. They are no fun if they are too accepting of their fate.” She gave me a warm and comforting smile.
Her tone suddenly changed. “Nevertheless, we were still playing our original game. You managed to avoid me for hours, but didn't reach the sanctuary. Means you've lost.” Her smile was gone now. “More importantly though, dressing up as a boy and leaving my estate was against the rules, and I do not like cheaters. So...”
By breathing stopped, heart raced.
She was silent for a moment as my feelings of distress exploded. She smirked, clearly delighted by my anxiety. “Six hours in the penalty box,” she finally said.
I gasped. She couldn't be serious!
“Jeanne? Bernadette? Would you be so kind as to prepare little Cheryl here?”
“Of course, Ma'am,” Jeanne said. “Bernadette, bind her elbow. I'll take this side. Ma'am? Would you prefer it if we plug her, or should we use a vibrator?”
I felt my captors tugging on my arm. No. Not this.
“Plug will be fine for now. But lay out a strapon for later. The red one, please.”
“No... No!” I wailed, then cried. “You can't do this! Let me go!”
“Hold still!” Bernadette shouted as she tied up my arms.
I felt myself pull against my bonds, and twisted and turned in the grip of my captors. I got more and more frenzied. Heels clicked as I tried to find traction on the marble floor. I twisted my ankle and lost balance. I would have fallen if Bernadette hadn't put her arms around me.
“Hold still, nom de Dieu! You'll hurt yourself.” My captor shouted.
Mistress Margot completely ignored my tantrum. She was having a casual conversation with Adrienne as her maids struggled to control me.
“Did you select that outfit for her?” Mistress Margot asked.
“Slap her! Again! Harder!” one of the maids yelled.
“No. Picked it out herself.” Adrienne chuckled. “She was muttering something about a 'disguise', but I reckon she simply likes pink.” Both ladies sniggered.
I threw a hissy-fit like no other. I cried, begged and pleaded, squealed and screamed.
So where did you... Excuse me. Jeanne! Would you shut her up, please!? Use a gag! Goodness, can hardly hear myself speak.” Mistress Margot called.
“Let me go! Leave me alone!” I cried. “No! Please! Don't... Humpfh! Humf!”
“So where did you go?” Mistress Margot asked Adrienne.
“Careful. The little bitch kicks.”
Two short clapping sounds echoed through the hallway and I felt my face burn.
“Drove her around for a while until we stopped at the warehouse up north. Had one of my men come over. I convinced her he was looking for her. And that we knew she was wearing slacks.” Adrienne said.
“Get the cuffs around her ankles!”
She turned towards the source of jingling chains, interrupted with grunts and groans. She chuckled. “It literally scared the pants off her.”
Mistress Margot laughed heartily, then followed Adrienne's gaze as she turned her head towards the spectacle.
They watched me struggle for a moment, then Adrienne continued. “When she was dressed properly, I got her in the van and doubled back here.”
“Hold her tight... Got it.”
There was an amused smile on Adrienne's face. “Want me to help with that?,” she asked as she nodded in my direction.
“No need. The girl is just blowing off some steam,” an unconcernedMistress Margot said. “I'll burn some more of her energy in the evening. Tomorrow she'll be docile as a little lamb. You'll see.”
“Got the collar? On three. One... Two... Three!”
“As you wish, Miss. If that is all, I would like to inspect the perimeter before I end my shift.”
“Grab the leash! Hold it tight. I have the blindfold. Tighter!”
“Of course, Adrienne. Thank you so much for your excellent work, tonight.” Mistress said with sincere gratitude.
Adrienne nodded. “Don't mention it, Miss. Pleasure to be of service.”
I grunted as my eyes were covered.
“Remarkable girl.” I heard Adrienne say.
“Is it on? Good. You can let go. I'll hold the leash.”
I twisted and turned in the darkness, pulling against my chains. Could barely move with the short chain between my ankles. I felt slaps sting my tear-stained cheeks through the black void.
“You have no idea,”I heard Mistress Margot say with glee. “A natural. Cute and submissive, yet just spirited enough to keep things interesting. You can bend her any which way without actually breaking. I pushed her hard this week and she just takes it like a sponge. I cannot wait to have her here permanently.”
I lost all sense of direction. Could only feel my inescapable bondage. “I think she is calming down,” I heard someone say.
“Are you sure that will happen, Miss?” Adrienne asked. “I mean, after that issue with...”
Mistress Margot interrupted her with a dismissive tone. “Christina will honour her end of the bargain, be sure of that.”
“March her up and down a few times. Let her walk it off.” I heard the click of my heels echo on the stone walls as I was pulled along.
“Besides,” Mistress Margot continued, “when Christina gets to taste Danielle on their wedding night, I'm sure she'll forget all about little Cheryl here.”
“I hope you are right, Miss,” Adrienne answered. “Anyway, I'll be off. Good night.”
“Good night, Adrienne,” Mistress Margot said. “Jeanne, are you ready?”
“Just about, Ma'am. Just let me get this in...” I squirmed a bit when she pushed the plug up my behind, but I had no real resistance left in me. She pulled my panties back up. “There. She's done Ma'am. Quite a handful, I must say. But she will give us no more trouble, now will you girl?” I groaned as she pinched my cheek.
“Very good. Take her up to the box and put her in something.” Mistress' voice betrayed her glee. “I do not care what, just surprise me. I'll be up in a minute.”
“Yes Ma'am. Come Cheryl, this way.” I felt the tug on my leash and with the tiniest of steps I meekly followed. Someone slapped my bottom. “Faster girl. Must get that cute ass of yours ready for your Mistress.” My captors started laughing as they guided me along.