Sunday, December 23, 2012

Ah - What the Hell?

I know what I said a few weeks back - but somehow can't stay away entirely - especially at this time of the year (I'd feel like a real bloody Scrooge if I stayed away at this moment).  A few things. A couple of bits from Rosie - and an old story from me.

I don't know what a reader sees - but I started this blog almost exactly two years ago.  As of today, the view count was over 300,000.  Yes, yes, yes - I'm well aware that there are a lot of duplicate views - but?  Surely you can see that you are NOT alone!  A lot of people are daft in the exact same way that you are!

Rosie has been invited to be a regular author (Where ARE you - you bugger?) but I have to admit that he is busy right now.

Bless all of you contributing authors - and Marie?  What happened to you?  Miss you.

Xaxa?  Was a monumental help in starting this blog - and in reviewing my first book.  Has a great site.  I was in contact with him until quite a few months back - when his personal life went awry.  Xaxa?  Thanks for all of your help in the past - and I sincerely hope that the bad times are behind you.  Write me when you feel that things are better.

Looks like Christmas is coming up fast.  I'm probably more of an atheist than anything else - but this time of the year - seems to do something to me - so when I say Merry Christmas?  I don't mean it solely to Christians - I'm simply wishing everyone a time of peace and good will.  Just enjoy the yuletide spirit - and drop your - biases - whatever they are - for a wee while.  Then of course there's the Message " Have a Happy and Prosperous Year" - that doesn't need explaining.

Enjoy!  And all you silly sissies?  Go out and buy something for yourself that you've always wanted!

The bits and story follow - but to all of my Readers?

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all of you - and your loved ones.

Bea

ROSIE'S BITS:



# 65XXXXXXXXXXX

“Honey? Where are you at? Denise is waiting to meet you!” I called out from the couch.
After a minute or so, my husband finally entered the room, a fearful expression on his face. It had been almost a week since my mother brought him to my new house but I still wasn’t used to his new look. I could have probably passed him on the street without recognizing him. His long black hair was cut to a flippy pageboy style and painted a reddish-brown, and with the makeup my mother used on his face, he looked like a completely different person. He was wearing a turquoise silk blouse, a turquoise and yellow print miniskirt, shiny translucent nylons and a pair of open toed sandals with a three inch heels.
“Refresh our drinks while you’re here,” I said to him.
Obediently, he scurried to the kitchen and returned with the bottle of gin we’d been sipping on.
“I heard you’re looking for a job, Samantha,” Denise said.
“Uh-huh,” he nodded.
“Samantha!” I hissed, “Is this the way you’ve been taught to speak?”
“Sorry,” he said, “Thank you, Denise, I am very interested in a job.”
“Denise is looking for a new secretary,” I said.
“Secretary?” he repeated, crushed.
“Well, more of an office girl,” she said.
“Office… girl?” my feminized husband repeated, “But I thought I only needed to dress like this to get out of Oklahoma. I thought I could go back to being a man once I got here.”
“But honey, you know that they said a federal warrant for your arrest was only a matter of time,” I said.
“That’s not how I remember it,” he protested.
“Oh please,” I silenced him, “If you could remember one damn thing you wouldn’t be in this mess right now. You’ll just have to lay low for a little longer, until we know for sure whether the warrant’s out on you or not.”
“Sorry,” he said and sat down on a footstool.
“Now, thank Denise properly for the job offer,” I said.
“Thank you, Denise,” he said, then turned to me – eyes shiny with tears, “But an office girl?”
“The pay’s not very high, I’m afraid, only minimum wage,” she said, “But I heard you’re an excellent housekeeper. I could use some help cleaning up my place, and unlike our boss, I’m willing to pay a fair wage for good help.”
“You know we could use the money, Samantha,” I said, stressing his new name my mother had given him.

I was finding it hard not to laugh out loud, or purr with delight. A month ago, my husband ran a successful business back in some shithole town in Oklahoma. Flat out refused to move, even when I bought this house in Northern California. Wouldn’t budge, kept on whining about his hometown. Made the mistake of letting me help with his finances. For a year I did them by the book, to establish his trust – which was a waste of time as he naively trusted me from day one. Then I helped myself to a large chunk of his profits – to pay for my new house – and make it look like tax fraud. Convinced him it was all his fault. Staged an argument and left for California. Then? All it took was a forged arrest warrant and friendly anonymous note made from newspaper clippings, and two days later, the poor dear is at my door, wearing a dress and heels, thanking my mother for all her help.

“I probably don’t have to say that we have a dress code at the office,” she said, “But if you show up dressed as you are now, you’ll fit right in. I hope you have more skirts like this one, by the way, I really like it.”
“Thanks,” my husband said, “But I only put it on because my mother in law told me to. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to wear it any more.”
“Why on Earth not?” Denise said.
“It’s too tight,” he admitted.
“You don’t like tight skirts?”
“Not really,” he said.
“Well, that’s just too bad, because that’s what you’ll be wearing at the office,” she said, “But I bet you’ll just love the maid’s uniforms for your part time job.”

# 68XXXXXXXXXXX

Undoubtedly my son looked different somehow. As any wife would, Jennifer had molded him to her tastes. It was very obvious how she influenced his style of clothing and though I was feeling jealous – what mother doesn’t resent her daughter-in-law for taking her child from her – I had to admit that her influence was a good thing. Jonathan was decidedly more… I’m not sure how to phrase it, but elegant would certainly be one way to describe him. His clothing style was more refined, for lack of better word, and while I couldn’t tell for sure, I had a strong hunch she had him using cosmetics. Whereas Jennifer failed to change the one thing I had hoped she would – make him cut his long, scruffy hair, I didn’t it as his hair was now always clean and neat, and it seemed softer somehow, and more wavy.  The change, as much as we welcomed it, amused me and my sister Fiona – Jonathan was never seemed to care how he looked and hardly put on anything than jeans (torn, mostly), t shirts and sweaters. Yet right after their honeymoon, she had him in nice shirts, dress pants and shoes. Even though he was obviously uncomfortable in them, it was also obvious that Jennifer’s word was the law in their house. You’d think he’d get more comfortable in his new clothes, but Jennifer was always one step ahead of him. As soon he’d gotten used to the fact that his tops were supposed to be buttoned up rather than dragged on over his head, she presented him with clothes of a bit more modern design than he felt comfortable with. We’d see a silk shirt on him, fitted trousers, patent leather shoes.

Jonathan was sitting behind the counter when I let myself in, drinking his coffee. I sat across the counter. He was wearing a black jacket over a rather interesting black shirt. Like it was the norm those days, it was made of silk. It was buttoned all the way up to the rather high collar. The collar itself was narrow, but it fit snugly around his throat. The shirt seemed to be somewhat ruffled around the buttons, but it could have been just the way he was hunched over the kitchen counter.
We talked for a while when Jennifer came downstairs. We kissed hello – full on the lips, as she always insisted – then she sat down by him
“Forgot something?” she said and handed him a black tube.
“I’m sorry dear,” Jonathan said sheepishly. He took the black tube from her and pulled it apart. It was lipstick, I realized, but only when he was already applying it to his lips. I noticed also that his long, oval fingernails were painted in the same shade of pink as he was painting his lips with.
“That’s better,” Jennifer said, “Now take of that silly jacket.”
“Please, Jennifer,” my son meekly said. In reply, she only looked at him sternly. He persisted for a couple of seconds, then took off his jacket.

For a moment I though he had torn his shirt in the process – both of his arms were bare from the shoulders down. But as I looked closely, I realized that it was in fact intentionally so. Not only there were no tear marks, but there was a ruffled trim at the arm openings of his shirt. The modern shirt he was wearing was a ladies’ sleeveless satin blouse.
“And sit up straight,” Jennifer said.
He straightened his back and the material of his blouse spanned over twin mounds protruding from his chest. A long black coral necklace dangled over the ledge they were making in his blouse, almost as if calling attention to them.
Jennifer calmly flipped over the newspaper on the counter, as if nothing was out of the ordinary – probably not for her – while I was gasping for air.
“Be a doll and get me a cup of coffee, honey,” she said after a while.
I resisted the temptation to lean over the counter to get a look at what he was wearing, but it was hard as the sounds were very intriguing. He slid off his stool with a distinctive rustle and a there was a loud clicking sound as he took his first steps. Soon enough he was around the counter and in my full view.
Beside his sleeveless satin blouse, my son was wearing a knee length black A-line silk skirt, with wide pleats at each side and as for the clicking sound – it was caused by the high heels of his black patent leather pumps.

AND NOW FOR AN OLDIE OF MINE:


                                                         MILKED MAIDS

                                                                   By Bea


“Dammit Diane!  You got us lost!”  I howled.  “And this goddam tiny piece of crap these limeys call an automobile is a piece of junk!  And these damn roads!  Why can’t they drive on the same side as everybody else?”

As I started yelling, Diane, my wife, steered the car over to the side of the road, stopped it then sat and stared at me calmly until my tirade was over.  Then she spoke.
“First of all?  You wrote these directions down if my memory serves me well.  I’ve simply been following what you have been telling me.  So?  Don’t blame me.  We could have stopped and asked for directions a long time ago instead of running around in circles.  That house up ahead?  I’m sure we passed it before.  But NO!  You can’t be seen as if you were lost.  Have to maintain that macho image of yours..”
“Oh enough!”  I interrupted.  “Maybe you’re right. I think we have seen that house before.  But it isn’t MY fault!  That stupid assistant of mine - She’s the one gave the directions to me.  I’m gonna fire her as soon as we got back to the States!”
“Oh  Frank!  For goodness sake!  I wish you’d stop blaming everything that goes wrong on somebody else.  Mary’s the best assistant you’ve had.  Can’t you at least admit that if it hadn’t been for her, you might not have got this contract that your signing today?”

I shrugged.  Wasn’t going to admit nothing.  “Let’s go on then.  Does it ever stop raining in this benighted place?  If we see someone, you can stop and ask them if they know where we’re going.”
“The rain’s what keeps the place so nice and green,”  she said  “and I don’t know how you expect to  see anyone out walking in it.”
“Even if we did?”  I added sulkily. “These narrow roads.  Couldn’t stop anyway.  Probably get ourselves involved in an accident.”
She smiled patiently, put the car in gear and pulled back onto the road.  Started humming the tune she’d been working on for about an hour.  Suddenly, I got it.
“That tune you been humming?  I’ve been trying to place it.  That old Simon and Garfunkel thing - Cecilia?”

“If you’d asked me dear? I’d have told ....” She started to say, but I interrupted her by singing the lyrics “  SEH - CEEL- YAH!  YOU’RE BREAKING MY HEART.. . De dumm dumm dum .”
“I’m eternally grateful that I didn’t marry you for your voice.”  She said.  “You’re no singer. That’s for sure.”

All of a sudden I felt better.  It had really bugged me that the car we’d rented at the airport had broken down and that the only thing available had been a standard gearshift car that I didn’t know how to drive.  It also bugged me to see how capably Diane was handling that, AND driving on the opposite side of the road, AND these scary  things that the limeys called roundabouts.  Stupid damn name for a stupid damn idea in a stupid damn country, I thought.

All of a sudden she was swinging into a driveway.
“Why are you going in here?”  I asked.  “This can’t be the place.”
“Didn’t think it was.”  She said. “ But I saw a couple of women standing in the doorway up there.  As they’re the first people we’ve seen where there’s room to stop and ask?  Seems like a good idea.”
“Maybe you’re right.  Think they’d let me use their bathroom?  I’m needing to pee.”  I said, hating to admit it.
“I’d imagine they would.  They look quite pleasant.  All you have to do is ask.”  Diane said.

As we drove up to them, the two women stopped talking and directed their attention towards us.
They were both dressed very nicely.  Overdressed for the country maybe, but elegant for sure.  Both quite tall.  One blonde, the other with long auburn hair coming down well past her shoulders.
The blonde wore a black skirt, cream blouse with long sleeves.  I thought both the blouse and skirt were made of satin, but couldn’t be sure. She had a long , double stranded, pearl necklace with matching earrings.  The other wore a pale blue  sweater and skirt set, set apart by a broad red cinch belt around the waist, that accentuated her hourglass figure.  Both had what looked to be extremely high heeled shoes.  They looked at us as we drove up to them.  Diane stopped the car and lowered the window.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you ladies?  But I’m afraid we’re somewhat lost.  We’re supposed to be meeting someone at the Braithwaite house?  Could you give us directions please?”

“Oh dear!”  The red head said grinning. “I know perfectly well where it is, but you really are facing some complicated directions.”
“Yes.”  The blonde said  in a deep contralto voice.  “You would really be better writing them down - no.  Now that I think of it?  Why don’t you come in to the house?  I have a local map there.  I can give it to you.  It will make everything much simpler.”

Diane actually hesitated.  I sensed something was going on in her mind other than what appeared on the surface.  I nudged her, just before she said anything.  “Don’t forget that I need to pee.”  I whispered .  She nodded.  Cut the car engine off and opened the car door.  I followed her example, leaving the car from the other side.  As I walked around the front of it, I had the most peculiar sense of being watched.  I turned quickly and, though the light made it  difficult to see in through the large picture windows, thought I saw the flash of  brightly colored silks - like party dresses retreating quickly from my line of vision.

“That’s extremely nice of you.  I’m Diane, and this is my husband Frank.”  My wife was talking to the blonde.
“Hello  Diane.  How do you do Frank.  I’m Amanda, and this is my friend Maria.”  The blonde and her friend shook  hands,  then Amanda led the way into the house, asking over her shoulder.  “You American?  How long here?”
“Just got in today as a matter of fact.”  Diane told her, then I lost the rest of what she said as we entered the house and I was distracted.


The place shone  !  I had never seen anything like it.  Wood gleamed with a luster that seemed inches deep.  Fabrics appeared to be totally dust or stain free.  Brass work shone like gold.  Glass and crystal sparkled.  A bowl of flowers stood - so perfect that I thought they had to be silk or plastic - which was incorrect as I found out later.
“If you’ll just come with me into the drawing room?”  Amanda said, “Maria can entertain you while I search for the map.”
“I wonder if I could possibly impose on you?”  I asked.
“Yes?  In what way?”  She asked.
“Would it be possible for me to use your bathroom?  I’m afraid I drank too much coffee this morning - and running around the way we have been doing...”  I let the explanation tail off as she was looking at me with a very peculiar expression on her face.  I had the strangest feeling that she was going to refuse!

She coughed into her hand, then looked straight at me.  “I suppose it would be all right, but I do have a request of you?”
“Yes?”
“Would you mind sitting down while you do the bathroom?”

I could only stare at her in amazement for a moment.  Sit down to pee?  I thought of laughing, but she was obviously dead serious.  Then I thought of arguing, but Mother Nature leaves us little room for negotiation when she calls.
“Yes. “ I said  “ That wouldn’t be a problem.  Thank you.”
“Good!” She answered.  “Second door on your right.  But don’t forget now!  I’ll be most upset if you’re naughty!”  She cautioned me, waving a finger.

I had been surprised by the strength in the grip of both women when I’d shaken hands with them.  Not bone crushers by any means, but both women had a confident mien about them, an identifiable air of confidence.  No, that’s not it.  It was more of a superiority they exuded.  I know that I  had immediately felt a little intimidated when we met.  This feeling of inferiority was growing the more exposure I had to them.  I felt like a chastened little schoolboy as I made my way to the bathroom.  Again, just before I opened the bathroom door, I thought I saw the flash of a bright fabric down at the end of the hall.  Just for a split second.  Almost as if someone had turned into the hall, saw me, and retreated quickly.  Puzzled, I hesitated briefly, but went into the bathroom.

It was incredibly feminine. Very spacious.  White and  pink were the predominant colors.  Mirrors, chintzes, chiffon drapes, a huge tray with filigreed gold trim held a vast assortment of cosmetics, perfumes, and colognes.  Again, I was struck by the level of cleanliness.  Diane makes sure that our house in the States is clean, but this place came close to being ridiculous - it was SO  immaculate.

It felt strange sitting down to piss, but I had given my word.  Not only that?  It seemed the proper thing to do in such a place.  I washed and dried my hands when I had finished.  Actually felt guilty about mussing up  one of the guest towels.  Then I poked around the tray, taking sniffs of the perfumes and powders - making sure that I put them back exactly where they’d been.

When I got back to the drawing room, I was surprised to see the women sitting down watching something on the TV.  Amanda used the remote to switch it off, and rose from her chair to greet me, the remote still in her hand.  “Aha!  Our conquering hero!  So glad you kept your  promise!”
“What promise?”  I asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Why, to sit down and do your tinkle like a girl.  Did it feel natural to you?”
“Eh?  What do you mean?  How did you know..?”  I asked incredulously.
“How?  By watching you.  That’s how.”  She answered.  “Look!”

Aghast, I watched her work the remote.  The screen flickered for a few seconds, then I was watching myself enter the bathroom, lower my pants, and sit down, the relief evident on my face a minute later.
“Isn’t that NICE!”  Maria laughed. “He dabs himself with toilet paper, just like a girl!”
I couldn’t believe my eyes.  Not only had I been video taped in a bathroom, but nobody was trying to hide the fact! Then Diane spoke from her chair. 
“Truly dear?  You looked fascinated by the cosmetics.  Did you like the smell of the perfumes? If there were any you liked, just tell me and I’ll get you some.”
“ I thought , for sure, he was going to try the lipstick/”  Maria giggled.
“Yes Frank.”  Amanda said slowly.  “All things considered?  You didn’t act very macho in there you know.  Looked very comfortable in there with all the girl things.  Sitting down like a girl, checking out the makeup.  Diane says that you keep calling all English males a bunch of sissies.  Maybe that’s what you are?  A sissy?  Calling everybody else one, just to disguise the fact that you’re one yourself?”

I was blushing furiously.  This ongoing assault on my masculinity was too much! 
“I’m not a goddam sissy!” I said loudly.  “I don’t know....”
“Frank!  No profanity in this house!  Please behave yourself!”  Amanda was barking at me.
I couldn’t help it.  She DID intimidate me.  “I’m sorry Amanda.  But..”
“There’s a good test to see if you’re a sissy or not.  Think you could pass it?”  She asked.
“Of course!”  I began.  “I don’t know where all of this is coming from.  Diane?   Let’s get out of here!”  I said.
“Scared of the test Frank?”  she asked cheekily.
“Of course not!”  I yelped.  “I’m not some kind of limey sissy!”
“Well then?”  Amanda said.  “Undo my necklace, would you?”
“What?”
“Undo my necklace please.  Are you deaf?”

I stared at her, totally intimidated, but certainly not willing to admit it.
“This is the test.  This’ll see whether I’m a sissy or not?”
She didn’t answer, just turned her back to me and pointed to the clasp of her necklace.

I’ve fastened and unfastened Diane’s necklaces many times, so am well aware of most of the
devices used.  When I got to see Amanda’s up close, I saw it was a ‘lobster claw’ type..  I hesitated only a moment, then undid the catch, and took the necklace in my hands.
“Well done!”  Amanda said.  “Now put the necklace on that table, then come back here and take my blouse off.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!”  I said, trying very hard for a light tone.
“FRANK!  Do as you’re told!  Come and take my blouse off!  What kind of man refuses to undress a pretty woman?  Or are you going to say you don’t find me attractive?”

I felt trapped.  If I didn’t take her clothes off?  Was this some kind of sign?  As if hypnotized, I put the necklace down then walked back to her.

Her blouse was fastened by fabric covered buttons at the front and sleeves.  I stood in front of her and undid each and every button at the front, well aware of her  breasts poking aggressively out at me.  Without being told, I took her arms, then undid the buttons at the cuffs. My erection was pushing against the front of my pants, seeking any kind of release.  While I was doing this, she smiled down on me. Spoke over me.
“He’s got nice soft hands Diane.  Very nice.  Soft hands are essential for maids.”
Humiliated beyond belief, yet somehow complimented, I stood back.  “I’m a CAO”  I said  defensively.  “Not  a laborer.  It’s no wonder that my hands are soft. ”  She stared at me, her eyes hard.  “ CAO or not!  Take my blouse OFF you ninny!”  She told me imperiously.

She just stood there, not helping one iota.  Carefully, I pulled the blouse ends up from under her skirt, then took hold of the neck and slid it off, over her shoulders.  Her breasts, resplendent in frames of black lace poked towards me, upthrust by a gorgeous, scarlet corset.
“Hang the blouse on a hanger in that closet.”  She commanded, “ then come back here and undo my skirt!”
Totally under her control, I  returned.  Her skirt was fastened by a button at the back, and a zip fastener.  I loosened the button,  undid the zipper, then  let her skirt fall to the floor.  She stepped out of it.  “Hang that up as well!  Then go and assist Maria!”  She said.

She was regal.  Slim, svelte, high waisted,  smooth and in total command.  Dark, seamed stockings held up by black support straps from her corset.  High heeled black shoes. Creamy fleshed breasts, shoulders, above the tops of her stockings.  Metallic sheen everywhere else.
I was mesmerized.  Couldn’t move.  She took a quick, threatening,  step towards me and I scurried over to where Maria stood, awaiting my services.  She stood, totally still, as I unbuttoned her sweater at the back and removed it to reveal the upper half of a jade green corset finished in taffeta.  I removed her broad waist cinch, then helped her step out of her skirt.  Without being told, I hung her clothes up beside Amanda’s.  Then I saw my wife standing, staring at me.  Meekly, I went and undressed her. For the first time in our entire marriage, I saw her wearing a satin finished corset in bright yellow.

After I had hung her clothes up, I was told to stand in the center of the room.  There, the three women slowly stalked around me, reminding me of three merciless felines prowling around a defenseless mouse, discussing which of them could be bothered having to kill it.
“Well, he DID maintain his erection.”  Diane said.  “Guess he’s got some masculine genes, eh?”
“Maybe.  Maybe not.”  Maria said.  “What do you think Amanda?”
Amanda didn’t answer her. Stared at me instead, a speculative look in her eyes. “Tell me.  Would you describe us three women as masculine or feminine?”
I licked my dry lips.  Attempted a laugh.  “Why, feminine of course!”
“Weak or strong?”
Again I blurted out the answer truthfully, without any consideration. “Oh, strong! Very strong!”
“Stronger than you?”
“Oh yes.”
Much stronger?”
I looked down at my feet.
“Yes. I think so.”  I admitted simply.
She came over to me.  Put a comforting arm around my shoulders.
“Would you like to be strong too?  Like us?”

This seemed ridiculous to me, but I didn’t want to seem disagreeable.  “Oh yes.”  I said.
“Good!  Then why don’t you take your clothes off now?  Quickly please?”
I was shy.  I still had an erection, and the idea of taking off my clothes in front of these confident women shamed me.
“C’mon now!” She said gently.  “Quick.  Like a little bunny!”
“All of my clothes Amanda?  Please, can I keep my undershorts on?” I pleaded weakly.
“Of course dear.  Just hurry with the rest.”
Gratefully, I started to divest myself of my shirt, shoes, socks and pants.  As I was doing this,
Maria came up and stood in front of me.  As I finally stood erect from taking my pants off she wrapped something around my waist, cinched some fasteners at the front, then turned me around to face away from her.  Without looking down, I knew I was now wearing a corset, similar to the ones the ladies were wearing except that mine was a light blue taffeta, edged with dark blue chiffon frills. 

“Take a deep breath dearie.”  She said and, as I did so, she started pulling the laces tight at the back.  After a few repetitions of me being tightened further and further into the confines of the garment, I was starting to feel light headed.  Luckily, she stopped before I fainted, then I could feel her tie me in at the back.
“MY!”  Diane laughed. “That corset does put a different complexion on things, doesn’t it?”
“Oh yes.”  Amanda agreed.  “The built in bra assists of course, but you can see that with the proper corset training, he’ll have a nice hourglass figure in no time.”  She turned her attention back to me.  “Okay.  Off with these silly underpants.  Put these nice panties on.”

“But Amanda.  You said....”
“Be Quiet!  Just put these panties on.  Make sure you put the suspender straps from the corset under them, and down and out through the legs.  Then we’ll get your stockings on.”

Thoroughly cowed now, I pulled my jockey shorts down and stepped out of them, and then into the panties, which I then pulled into position.   I had to sit down to put the stockings on.  It took me a little while to get the seams straight and get the straps attached and adjusted.  The black high heeled shoes I had to put on were not as high as the ladies, but I still found it a little difficult to walk at first.  Finally, I stood, resplendent in my light blue satin corset, with panties to match, nylon stockings sheathing my legs, high heeled shoes on my feet.  All three women now had leather quirts in their hands, lightly tapping their palms as they examined me.  I was dreadfully frightened.

“Okay.”  Amanda said to me. “Feel strong now?”
“No.  Not really.  I’m not used to these kind of clothes..”
“You DON'T feel strong?  You feel weak?”  She was practically ignoring what I was saying now, telling me what to say.
“Yes.  Kinda.  Amanda?”
“But  don’t you feel masculine?”
I plucked at the lace trim around the bottom of my corset.  “No.  Not really.”
“Feminine then.  Like a weak girl?”
“Well, not exactly.  Just kinda strange..” I managed to croak.
“But you look like a girl.  All dressed up in your pretty clothes.  But instead of feeling strong and feminine like us,  you  feel weak and feminine.  Isn’t that what you’re saying?”
Yes.  Well. Not exactly..”  I started stammering.

She pursed her lips.  “You look like a girl.  Admit you feel the same way.  Now you’re starting to reason like one.  A little while ago you said you were a CAO.  What is that?”
“A Chief Administrative Officer”.  I told her.
“People actually work under you?”
“Yes”

“Oh it’s a made position.”  Diane explained.  “After we were married my mother got killed in an accident.  She had started the company.  I’m Chairman of the Board so had to give my husband some sort of title.”
“How has he done?” Maria asked.
“Terrible.  Has no idea.  I had to press for  Mary...”
“Your friend Mary?”  Amanda asked with a strange inflection in her voice.
“The same. Practically had to order him to take her on as his assistant”  Diane laughed.  “She’s been guiding him quite successfully, but it’s getting harder and harder to hide our relationship.  I was going to divorce him, but we thought it might get very expensive.  Mary’s very bright though.  This way of dealing with him is actually her idea. Looks like it might be a good one.”
“ I was expecting her here by now.”  Maria said.
“She must have been held up.  She’ll be pissed off I think.”  Diana chuckled.  “She would really have enjoyed this little exercise.”
“Pissed?  Drunk?”  Amanda asked.
“Oh I’m sorry!”  Diane explained.  “In the States, ‘pissed off’ means aggravated, annoyed.”


I had listened to everything that had been said with growing horror.  Could not figure what had happened.  The horrible feeling that this whole thing had been set up was starting to dawn on me with blinding, awful, clarity.  My thoughts were interrupted by Amanda pulling a velvet cord that hung beside the fireplace. “Time for the next step in the process.”  She said.

Smiling, Marie went and opened the door.  A few seconds later, she said.  “Come on in girls.”  And  two maids entered the room.

I could only stare in astonishment.  The two girls that entered the room were quite tall and fairly attractive.  What captured my interest was the fact that they were dressed in maids uniforms - but such uniforms!  One was a red head in satin, the other  had darker hair, and was in taffeta.  The satin one was a Sea green, The taffeta in Royal blue.  Both somewhat similar in style, having scoop necklines and puffed sleeves that came down to the elbows.  The short skirts were scalloped and held at a sharp angle out from the waist by  frilled, sparkling white, multi-layered petticoats.  Both wore white, short, frilled aprons - and each head was adorned by a flounced, very feminine, maids cap.  Both also wore black, high heeled shoes with dark hose.  They  entered the room, petticoats flouncing, and curtseyed to Amanda. I knew then where my flashes of ‘party dresses’ had come from.
“Yes ma’am?” they asked in unison.  Their voices were soft and submissive, but deeper than would normally be expected

“Very good girls.  Just stand there a moment please.”  She said.   They bobbed,  then stood still, hands folded together over their aprons, eyes cast demurely downwards - though I thought I saw a quick glance thrown in my direction. Amanda then spoke to Diane.
“These two are Nancy and  Margaret.  In the U.S. I believe they’d be called sissy-maids.  I much prefer the term nancy-maids myself, but it’s all the same thing, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so.”  Diane responded coolly, though I sensed she was as surprised as I was.  “You’re telling me that these ..  er ..  maids , are men?”
“In a manner of speaking, I suppose so.  I trained Nancy a year or two ago.  His mistress has sent him back for a weeks retraining.  Naughty, were you Nancy?”
The redhead blushed and bobbed a quick curtsey.  “Yes mum.”

Amanda laughed.  “Yes.. Thought so.  And you, Margaret?  This is your first time here, isn’t it?”
The darker one of the two bobbed .  “Yes mum.”
Maria spoke to Diane.  “I’ve been helping with Margaret.  She was a bit ... Well, rambunctious might be a good way of describing her behavior when she was brought here by his wife last week.  But she’s showing decided improvement now.  Right, Margaret?”

Amanda laughed as Margaret curtsied deferentially.  “Maria’s my enforcer.  I bring her on board for the more difficult cases.  She’s wonderful with males who refuse to admit women’s natural superiority.  Isn’t that right Margaret?”
Margaret had turned pale, but she curtsied again - deeper this time. “Oh  yes, mistress Amanda!  Mistress Maria has been very kind and patient with  silly little me.  I really have learned a lot in one short week.”

“Wonderful!”  Amanda chuckled.  “Won’t your wife be pleased when she comes to get you?”
“I hope so mum.”  Margaret said meekly.
“Should bloody well hope so!”  Amanda said firmly.  Then she turned her attention back to me.
“Have you accepted the fact that you're  a nancy boy now?  A sissy?”
I could only swallow, my mouth as dry as a desert.  She nodded.
“Right.  Run along with Nancy and  Margaret now.  They know what to do with you.  Do as they tell you, then report back in here for inspection”  She turned to Diane.  “It’s settled then?  He’s to take the training?”
“Absolutely!”  Diane laughed.
“I don’t think a ten day period is necessary. “ Amanda said.  “All I need with him is a week at most.”
“Wow!  That’s nice of you to say that.  It’s costing you money.”  Diane said.
“Well, what with the amount you’re spending on uniforms and the rest,  plus the room and board?  You’re a good customer - and I like to keep my customers satisfied.”  Amanda said.
“You mean that Mary and me could come back in a week.  Pick him - I mean ‘her’- up  then?”
“Yes.  You might enjoy traveling with your personal maid in attendance. Of course, you’d maybe have to revise your reservations?”
“What a great idea!”  Diane enthused.
“Good!  What do you want her name to be again?  Cecily?”
“No - Cecilia.  Ceh - Seel  - Yah”
“Oh  yes.  Pretty name.”  Spoke to me again. “Very well Cecilia, run along like a good little girl.”

I don’t know what possessed me.  Maybe from seeing the way that Nancy and Margaret had behaved towards her?  Whatever.  I took the frilled sides of my corset in my hands and bobbed a little curtsey.  “Yes mum.”  I said, much to the ill-disguised amusement of my wife.
Amanda smiled pleasantly.  “I think you’re friend Mary is very perceptive Diane.  Cecilia appears to be a most appropriate candidate for a position as lady’s maid.”

I let out a squeal, more surprise than hurt, as a quirt made sharp contact with my pantied backside.  “Don’t be standing there listening to the conversations of your betters!  Off you go with the other girls like you were told!”  Maria admonished me.

 Diane was laughing out loud now, as I joined my two companions who were already flouncing out of the room.  Maria followed us to the door, then closed it behind me, leaving me and the other two maids  who led me to a flight of stairs.

“Wow!  What gives in this place?”  I whispered to Nancy’s back.
 “We’re not allowed to speak outside of the rooms,”  she replied,  “the mistresses can’t hear us.”
“All the more reason for talking then.  No?”  I persisted.  But she didn’t answer me, at least not until we entered a fairly small, but very feminine room done in pale yellows and whites.
“I wasn’t being rude Cecilia.”  She said pleasantly.   “It’s just that Mistress Amanda and Mistress Maria want to make sure we speak properly.  All the rooms are monitored for sound, and they have installed video cameras so that they can be assured that we act properly as well.”
“Properly? What are you talking about?”
“Like maids.  Like girls.  A little gossip, or talk about makeup or clothes.  We can even talk about them if we want - if we think they’re punishing us unfairly, though I think they prefer compliments.  But enough talking.  Why don’t you sit down at that bench in front of the mirror? I have to get your eyebrows plucked and your ears pierced.  Margaret’s here to watch and learn.  She’s going to help me with your makeup.”

“You and what army?”  I said aggressively.
“Oh Oh!  I do wish you hadn’t said that!   I think you’ll have to ask me to do all these things to you now - and nicely.  Otherwise I’m not allowed to work on you.  That’s house rules I’m afraid”
I saw the look of enjoyment in Margaret’s eyes.  “I hear you thought that all Englishmen were sissies?  I think that mistress Maria may be up here in about thirty seconds.  If she is?  Why, you’re going to find out how quickly  she’ll have you agree that you’re a sissy.  She’ll have you agreeing to just about anything else she asks as well.”  She snickered.  “She can be most persuasive!”

Nancy giggled in agreement.  “Please ask me, Cecilia.  Honest.  If you don’t, you’ll wish you had.  Margaret is speaking from experience, trust me.”
“I’m very sorry Nancy.”  I said quickly.  “Would you please do my eyebrows and ears.”
“And make you pretty with makeup?”
“Yes please.”

I can’t say for sure that I heard a door close on the first floor, but it felt that way.  There was suddenly a drop in the tension in the room, and I could tell my fellow maids sensed it too.

Getting my eyebrows plucked probably hurt more than the ear piercing.  Neither took Nancy very long.  When she finished piercing the ears, she immediately put some gold posts in .  She chattered quite pleasantly as she worked on me.  Told me how her wife had gradually transformed her from a bread winning role as a husband into her personal maid.  How she had been sent back for retraining.  “I did start behaving naughtily,”  she giggled “ so she spanked me a couple of times, but finally got frustrated and sent me back here. I’ll probably need to be sent back in a year or two again - I’m just silly I guess.”

She worked on my makeup with a high degree of care, making sure I wasn’t allergic to any of the cosmetics.  She applied a foundation base, then blush and lipstick, warning me to pay attention because I’d be expected to become adept  very quickly.  “Neither  Mistress   Amanda nor Maria have much patience with a girl who can’t put her makeup on nicely” she told me. She spent a lot of time on my eyes with eye shadow tints,  eyebrow pencil, and mascara.  The man in the mirror rapidly gave way to a girl.
“Okay . That’s about the best I can do.“  she said  “Time to get into your uniform.  “Hold it open for her Margaret, will you?”

I looked at the confection of pink satin that Margaret was holding in front of me.  Thought of remonstrating.  I mean, what WAS going on?  I wasn’t a girl!  What was everyone thinking of?
Silently, I lifted one foot and stepped into the dress, then the other.  Humming a contented little tune, Margaret lifted the dress up around me, then had me hold my hands out in front so that I could fit into the sleeves.  She then pulled it back and proceeded to button  me into it at the back.
There seemed to be a few fasteners that were difficult to close.
“How do I get out of this?”  I asked.
“Oh, you’ll need help putting it on and taking it off”.  Nancy  explained.  ”The mistresses like us girls to depend on each other as much as possible.  It’s just one way to remind us that we should get along with each other.”

Margaret was very taken with the dress.  “Oh, that pink is lovely!”  She gushed, then added cattily.  “Though I don’t know if it goes with your complexion Cecilia.”
“Well, once I get her wig on, it’ll look much better on her.”  Nancy said calmly, producing a platinum blonde wig from somewhere,  “ Sit down again Cecilia. First we have to make sure that your real hair behaves itself.”
After I sat, she placed a sort of nylon cap on tip of my head, then worked all of my own hair up under it.  Seconds later, the wig was on my head, long platinum tresses cascading down to my shoulders.  I saw myself in the mirror and knew that I was the prettiest amongst the three of us.
My eyes were dark, framed by the whiteness of my hair and the delicately arching eyebrows. The traces of blush on my cheeks gave an indication of good health.  My lips looked plump and inviting.

My evaluation was interrupted.   “Think her lipstick’s too pale.”  Nancy explained to Margaret.
“I think it looks quite nice.”  I protested weakly.
“Yes Cecilia, you’re quite right, “ Nancy agreed, but the mistress likes new girls with their makeup a little brighter.  C’mon.  Pout your lips for me.  There’s a girl!”zz
My lips bordered on the scarlet side when she finished.  A little sluttish I thought, but was scared to say anything.

Then I had to step into my petticoat.  Margaret helped me hold the hem of my dress up so that Nancy could make sure it was fitted around my waist properly.  When the hem was dropped back into place, I was flounced in ruffles just like my sister maids.  Then my ribboned cap was pinned on top of my head.
“I don’t like these stockings and shoes with that outfit.”  Nancy said.  “Margaret?  Get  a pair of light hose and a pair of white shoes for Cecilia, would you please?”

Margaret made a snort, but did as Nancy had asked.  I had to take my  shoes and stockings off, then had to put on the pale hose by myself.  It was more difficult to attach the tops of the stockings to the suspender straps than I had thought it would be, but I finally managed to do a creditable job of it.  After I put the shoes on, Nancy was happier with my appearance.
“MUCH better!”  She said.  “Now, all we need to do is get your apron on.”


The apron was a flimsy little thing with a wide satin sash.  I could not see any practical value in having one on, but made no comment.  Nancy was just showing me how to make a pretty bow at the back when Mistress Maria came into the room.  She looked a little upset. “Twirl in your pretty dress Cecilia.”  She said.
I tried my best to do it gracefully.
 “You were told not to speak while coming up the stairs, weren’t you?”  She asked.  Then added  “ But you kept on doing it, didn’t you?”

I was suddenly terrified.  Was she going to punish me?  I made a quick curtsey.  “Yes Mistress.”

She smiled suddenly.  “Good!  I like truthful girls,”  She turned to Margaret.  “But I don’t like girls who can’t get on with others.  What’s the matter with you? Are you upset because Cecilia is prettier than you?”
Margaret’s lips trembled as she curtsied.  “Maybe a little bit, mistress.”
Maria stared at her.  “You’re going to learn that maids have to be nice to each other.  Pleasant and feminine.  Help each other.  So?  Tonight?  I want you in my bed when I get there. Have these pretty blue baby dolls on.  Have some lipstick - not to much mind you - and some perfume on.  Then you can be my girl again.  Understand?”

Margaret’s eyes filled with tears, but she smiled as if she was happy and curtsied.  “Yes mum.”  She said.  I felt sorry for her.  She had been somewhat unpleasant to me, but I was starting to get an idea of what faced her in Mistress Maria’s bed.  I almost spoke in her defense, then figured that I might be volunteering to take her place.  Decided to keep quiet.

“All right then.”  Mistress Maria said.  “Nancy?  You did a very nice job.  Thank you.  Margaret?  You go with her and start working in the Drawing room.  It needs dusting.  I need some time with Cecilia here.”  She went and sat in a chair as my friends left the room.  “Come her and sit on my knee girl.  We have a little talking to do.”

Sitting on a strong woman’s knee, wearing a pink satin dress, underlined how feminine I’d become in a very short period of time - especially when she ran a possessive hand up under my petticoat layers and was fondling my privates as she spoke to me.
“We’re going to have a little ceremony downstairs in a few minutes.  Here is how I expect you to behave.  Are you listening?”
“Oh yes, mistress!”  I assured her.

I was trembling with humiliation by the time I’d effectively memorized what she wanted me to do - or maybe it was the way she’d pulled me backwards into her embrace and was carelessly caressing my breasts.
“Before we go downstairs though?  I want to change the subject for a moment.  Okay?”
What was I going to do?  Say ‘no’?  I nodded happily.
“I want you to understand “  she began  “that Amanda and me see our job here as being to turn sissies into housemaids.  Understand?”
I nodded again.
“So we board you here in this house until you’ve learned how to behave.  This’ll be your room for the next week or ten days.  There’s some working uniforms in your closet, and lots of nice lingerie in that chest of drawers there. “
“Working uniforms mistress Maria?”  I asked.
“Yes.  Of course!  Don’t think we’re going to have you scrub floors in that outfit, surely?”  She admonished me. I hung my head.

“It’s important that you understand one special thing.  You have to maintain a good, very good, relationship with other girls who are here to be trained.  Are you homosexual?”
“Oh no mistress!”  I protested,  surprised at the change in subject.
“That’s good.”  She said.  “Not that we have anything against them, but we don’t want any romances starting up between you girls.  Tends to get disruptive.  We prefer you all to help each other get dressed, do each others hair and makeup. We make sure that you know we listen to your conversations and watch you  while you work.  You will be feminine in your walk, your talk - and behavior.  You understand what I’m going to do to Margaret in bed tonight?”
“I think so, mistress.”   I quavered.
“She’s been naughty.  Started being catty with you.  Envious. I won’t have that.  I know she doesn’t like being made to be my woman in bed, but I guarantee that she’ll be much nicer to you starting tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you mistress.”  I said.

That’s okay.”  she said.  “Just giving you an idea of what will happen to you if you start misbehaving.  Your wife isn’t too keen on us giving you dildo training, but she understands that, if you need it, you’ll spend the night in my bed - in a pretty nightgown  - getting what Margaret is going to get tonight.  Got it?”
I was trembling in fright but managed to gasp out  “Oh yes mistress!  I understand!”
“That’s a good girl!  I don’t think you’re going to be any trouble at all.”
“I hope not mistress!”  I said fervently.
“Okay.  You’ve been warned.  You’ll get no other warnings.  Go and get that long handled hairbrush from the dressing table, and we’ll get downstairs.”

Legs trembling, I was allowed to rise from her lap.  I went and got the long handled hairbrush, then followed her downstairs.  I was surprised to see that the women had put on their outward clothes again.   Diane let out an audible gasp when she saw me entering the room.
“My god!  That can’t be you  Frank - sorry, Cecilia - you’re positively pretty!”
I walked to stand in front of her, and dropped a nice curtsey, then quoted the lines that Maria had taught me.
“Mistress Diane?  This is to let you know that I now consider you my mistress, and that I am looking forward to being trained as your personal maid.  It is my intention to become totally involved in your  service.  May I brush your hair?”
“No.  I don’t think so.”  Diane replied.

“Diane? “   Amanda said. “  May I suggest that you take her up on her offer?  It’s a sort of symbolic thing.”
“Oh, sure!”  My wife said.  “I hadn’t realized that.  Okay Cecilia, you may brush my hair.  But just a few strokes.”
I curtsied to her then walked around to the back of the sofa where she sat.  Gently, I lifted her hair up at the back, then brushed it for about a minute, realizing all the while that I was tying myself more and more into a servant’s role.  Knowing what was to follow, I started trembling as I finished.
“Very good Cecilia!”  Mistress Maria said.  “Now give mistress Diane the hairbrush.”

Hardly able to walk, I managed to get around the sofa to face Diane again and handed her the brush.  She looked puzzled.  “Eh?  What’s this for?”
“Something very symbolic.”  Mistress Amanda said.  “Now Cecilia!”
Almost weeping in shame, I draped myself over my wife’s knees.
“God! “  Diane laughed.  “Now I know what you mean!  This is FUN!  How many spanks should I give her?”
“You’re the boss.”  Maria said.  “As many as you want.  But I suggest that you spank her on her panties.”

“Makes sense to me!”  I heard my wife say from above me.
I felt my dress being lifted to bare my backside, then a tightening of the thigh muscles underneath me, then a stinging whack to my backside.  I squealed, but another blow caught me almost immediately.  I started to cry after the fourth spank.  Then I heard a knock on the door, and then it opening.  The blows ceased. Then I heard Nancy’s voice.  
“Miss Diane’s friend has arrived.”
“Oh wonderful!”  Diane said.  “I was SO scared she’d miss this!  Hi Mary!  What kept you?”

With increasing dread, I heard my assistant - ex assistant now - laugh.  “Sorry, there was an accident back about two miles.  These narrow roads?  Took forever to clear it up.”
Then she laughed.  “Is that who I think it is over your knee?  My god, you ladies work fast!”

Diane gave the back of my dress a slight tug.  “Get up from there you naughty thing!  Say hello to Mary.  Prettily now!”

I managed to struggle upright, then went and made a pretty curtsey to Mary, ashamed because I knew my mascara had run and that my face was a mess.
 “Good afternoon Mistress Mary.”  I said, trying my best to smile.
“UH UH!  Cecilia?”  I heard mistress Diane say.  “As she’s the only thing that could possible be described as a man in our house?  From now on, you address her as “sir”!”
“Cecilia?  I thought her name was gonna be ‘Priscilla?” Mary said.
Diane replied.  “Just came to me this morning.  I like it more.”
“Me too!”  Mary said, then turned her attention back to me.  “My Cecilia!  What a pretty dress!  And you curtsey so NICELY!  You make such a pretty maid!  Curtsey again, please!”

And, looking into the openly mocking eyes of my assistant up until a few hours before, I dropped as pretty a curtsey as I knew how.  She clapped her hands in a delighted fashion.
“We’re going to have such fun, all three of us!”  She said.

“All right Cecilia.  Go and report to Nancy again.  Have her repair your makeup.”  Amanda instructed me.  Then she said “I’m sorry Diane.  Had you finished with her?  Perhaps  Mary would like to put her over her knees as well?”
“That’s fine Amanda.”   Diane replied.  “What do you think Mary?”zz
“It’s a very tempting offer.”  Mary laughed.  “But we should be going soon darling.  We’ve a fair distance to go before we get to our hotel.  And anyway?  I’ve got lots of time to enjoy Cecilia when we get her home.  I’ve been thinking of having a little get together with the girls from the office.  Bet they’ll be really taken with her when she serves them drinks and goodies.”  She waved her fingers at me.  “Run along Cecilia.  Make yourself pretty.  I’ll see you in a week or so, when we come to pick you up.”
“Yes sir.”  I said respectfully, curtseying.

“Go and join Nancy and Margaret in the drawing room after Nancy has fixed your mascara.  Help them dust in there - and I’d better see these petticoats flashing if I take a look in there.”  Maria told me.
I curtsied, and left the room. As I did so, I heard mistress Amanda ask Diane and Mary if they’d mind staying about another fifteen minutes.  I wondered why, but in hurrying to find Nancy and Margaret, forgot all about it.

Nancy took no time at all in repairing my makeup.  Margaret was very nice to me when  Nancy and I rejoined her in the drawing room.   As I started dusting she apologized for having been so nasty earlier on.  I told her it really didn’t matter and she came over to me and we kissed and promised to be friends.
“For god’s sake Cecilia!”  Nancy cautioned me “Don’t you DARE cry!  I’m not going to spend all day fixing up your tear marks!”
 We were  all laughing, when I heard the tinkle of a bell from the room where the ladies were.
It sounded a different tone than the one I’d heard before.  Both my friends stood stock still for a moment, strange expressions on their faces.
“What’s up girls?”  I asked.

“We’re wanted.  Now!”  Nancy said, walking towards the door.  I followed her and Margaret back down to the room I’d left just a short while before.  Nancy knocked softly, and on command, we all entered.  I shut the door gently behind us.

“Mary?  Diane?  Are you quite comfortable on that sofa?”  Amanda asked.
Both women nodded agreeably.
“Good.  Settle back why don’t you?  I want to demonstrate something.  All right?”
“It’s your show Amanda.”  Mary said smiling.

“Come in girls, come in.”  Amanda said.

“Very good girls!”  Maria spoke.  “Cecilia?  Go and stand in front of your mistress.  You others, go and stand to the right of  Cecilia there.  Face the two ladies on the couch, just like she’s doing.”

Quickly, my fellow maids came to stand beside me, Margaret closest, Nancy furthest away.

“Good!”  Maria continued.  “Just spread out a little from each other.  You just stay where you are Cecilia.  Let the other girls move.  Yes, that’s it.”

Maria walked and stood behind the sofa, looking at us over Diane and Mary’s shoulders, smiling nicely. “Cecilia?  Be a good girl now.  Take a step forward, towards me.  Now please.”
Nervously, I stepped forward.
She smiled broadly.  “Notice the tiny little feminine step Cecilia took there ladies?  My!  She’s going to be SUCH an apt pupil!  Another step if you will Cecilia?  There, that’s a girl!”

I was now standing about four feet away and facing my wife and Mary directly, looking down at their grinning faces, Margaret and Nancy facing in the same direction.  Maria spoke again.
“Now girls?  I want you to take a hold of the front of your dresses.  Petticoats too.  Lift them up and show off your pretty panties..  No Cecilia!  Hands further apart!  Lift your hems up further.  Yes!  Much better!  Now just stay there like that.  Good!”

And I knew that ashamed and humiliated though I was, standing there with my uniform skirt and petticoats lifted all the way up in front of me,  my erection had to be easily visible, straining against the satiny, frilled, material of my panties.

Amanda spoke from behind me.  “This is a very important demonstration ladies.  You see, sissies are a very valuable resource.  They make the most wonderful maids.  They are naturally submissive, so will do just about anything else you desire.  Some mistresses make them into sex slaves, but I personally think that that is just the waste of a good serving girl.  There is one thing that must be taken into consideration though.  Sissies, or not, they still have functioning male bits.  These ‘bits’ can cause a lot of problems if not taken care of.”

I could see the puzzlement in the women’s faces on the couch.  So, obviously, did Amanda.
“Let me make an analogy ladies.  Cows are valuable animals.  They provide milk, and all sorts of other good things.  Cream, butter, cheese.  Right?”
Her audience nodded.
“But the cows have to be milked every night.  If they are not, all sorts of problems can arise.”

I could tell from her voice that she had changed position .   It sounded like she was further off to my right.  Then I heard the soft rustle of taffeta.
“Keep your eyes front Cecilia.”  Maria warned me.
I heard more rustling, and what sounded almost like the tinkle of a tiny bell  from behind me and a soft sigh.  Had no idea of what was happening, but saw Diane’s face get red with suppressed amusement.  Amanda started speaking again.  She was closer.  Sounded as if she was behind Margaret now.  She started speaking again.

“It’s my belief that a mistress should not kowtow to her serving girls.  I’m certainly not interested in doing a service for them that they enjoy.    At the same time, necessity must be considered, so I do this regularly.  The important thing in my mind, is that it be done clinically, with no emotion.  Just like a milkmaid and a cow.  A job has to be done.  Just do it.”

While she was talking, I again heard the rustle of taffeta.  It was louder this time as she was nearer to me.  Again, the rustling culminated in a soft sigh.  Then before I knew it, she was speaking from directly behind me.

“I truly recommend that the sissies be as much like girls as possible.  I have them work together whenever possible.  Like them to chatter.  Talk about clothes, makeup - that kind of thing.”
“Boys too?”  Mary asked.
“Oh no.  Absolutely not!”  Amanda said.  “I’ve nothing against homosexual maids - but I want my sissies to be subservient to me, or another woman.  Don’t want their pretty little heads all filled up about men. I train them to do what a woman tells them - and only what women tell them.  Bringing men into the picture just complicates things.”

And, all of a sudden, she was standing right behind me, lifting my skirts and petticoat at the back and pressing her groin into my backside.  When positioned, she slid her hands around my waist, took a hold of my panties and pulled them down to about mid thigh.  I couldn’t help it.  Let out a tiny squeal and teetered forward a few inches.
“Cecilia!”  Maria warned quickly.  I froze immediately, and felt Amanda’s right hand wrap something satin-smooth around my erection.  Her left was then pulled out from under my skirts, then around my waist, and upwards to cup my left breast, and pull me back into her embrace.

My wife and assistant gazing gleefully upwards from their comfortable seats, I was masturbated  with only a few short strokes of Amanda’s hand.  As I sighed in climax, I knew that she had just masturbated me, and my two sister sissies in less than a few minutes.  My legs almost buckled as I came.  She supported me for a few seconds until the weakness passed, then dropped my skirts and stepped back.

“Very good girls!”  She said.  “You can pull your  panties up now.  Nancy?  You can take these wet scraps somewhere and wash them.”
“Amanda?”  Diane started.    I was wondering?  When you .. Ahem  .. Did...  Nancy?  Did I hear bells?”
Amanda laughed.  “Yes, you did.  Wondering about the significance?”
“Yes.  Kind of.”  Diane replied.
“She’s wearing panties with bells sewed into them.  My analogy about cows.  Remember?”  Amanda prompted.
“Yes.  But what does...?  Oh my god!”  Diane started to laugh.  “Cow bells!  Oh, I gotta get some of these for Cecilia!”
“Certainly.”  Amanda said.  “But please don’t forget what you’ve just seen.  It can be done clinically and without emotion or softly and kindly - but it is something that must be done.  I usually ring a special bell.  The girls learn to recognize it - and know that I expect them to come running for their milking.”
“I can see now why   you call it that.”  Mary said, grinning.


Maria came from behind the couch. “All right girls.  Nancy?  Go and wash that stuff out like the mistress told you.  When you’re finished, come back to the dining room.  Cecilia?  Margaret?  Come with me.  There’s dusting to do.  Silverware to polish.   And Cecilia?  Curtsey prettily to your mistress and her friend now.”
Thoroughly subjugated, I curtsied to both Mary and Diane, then joined Nancy and Margaret as we followed Mistress Maria from the room.  I was extremely conscious of the way our skirts and petticoats flounced prettily as we left.  I felt very tired.  It seemed like a day that had gone on for ever.  I very much wanted to get up to my room, put on a pretty nightgown, and have a good nights sleep.  I had the feeling that tomorrow was going to be even more tiring.
As we reached the door.  I heard Mary let out a short laugh.  “Just dawned on me?  He’s still a CAO.  Did you know that?”
Diane was standing up now, preparing to leave. “No dear.  I can’t leave him as CAO - that’s going to be your job...”
“Oh, I didn’t mean Chief Admin Officer.”  Mary replied   “I meant “Cecilia All Over!”

As the door closed behind me, I heard the laughing women break into song... CEH.. CEEL ... YAH.....

                                                  THE END




 


5 comments:

Whip said...

"Merry Christmas" to you too and thanks for all the stories troughout the past 15 years?

From a long time reader from Sweden
All the best yours /Whip

belinda said...

Milked Maids, a very lovely present Bea. I hope you have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! I am going to a party in Manhatten New Years Eve, with some friends who are very sissy. I hope to have some adventures to report. Kisses Belinda

Anonymous said...

Dear Bea,

A sincere Happy New Year to you and yours too. I've not meant to be such a stranger, but my like's been quite busy. But life's good and always interesting.

I plan on writing more one of these days, hopefully sooner than later. Much to talk about and share.

Love,

Marie

fiona young said...

oh what a lovely story make the day so much better after reading this

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