Chapter 12: The poseable doll. Cheryl trains a new
skill.
by Bambi
The
next morning I woke up in my bed. I had been tied down to it again, with one
chain connecting my collar to the headboard, while another tied my legs to the
foot of the bed. Still, the chains were rather slack so I could turn around lie
on my sides. This allowed me to avoid putting pressure on my back and behind,
which were still sore after my last session in the penalty box.
But
there was one sensation I couldn't avoid or ignore. I really needed to relieve
myself.
My
hands were tied, but I wasn't gagged, so I called to the camera that was
pointed at my bed.
“Hello?
Miss Jeanne? Miss Bernadette? Can anyone hear me?” I waved my bound hands.
“...What
is it, girl?” I heard Bernadette over the speaker, her voice sounding sleepy.
It was still over an hour before the maids were supposed to collect me, so it
was reasonable to assume I had just woken her up.
“Miss
Bernadette, may I go to the bathroom, please?”
“Can't
it wait?” She said with a grumpy tone.
“I'm
very sorry, Miss. But I really need to go...” I said pleadingly.
I
heard her sigh. “Oh very well. I'll be right there.”
“Thank
you, Miss. I really do appreciate it.” I heard her snort.
I
wasn't actually that afraid that she'd ignore my request. I may have been a
puppet on a string, dancing to Mistress' tune, but as long as I was properly
behaved and submissive, they did not interfere with my most basic functions. I
slumped back on the mattress as I waited for the maid to arrive.
I
still had to be cautious though. She didn't say it with so many words, but
Jeanne had hinted that if I dared to take advantage of this leniency, they
would put me in a diaper and happily let me stew in my own juice for a while.
That was one indignity I was desperate to avoid.
I
wiggled on my mattress, trying to spare the more painful spots on my behind.
And after three hours in the penalty box, there were a lot of those. Jeanne had to place a pillow on my chair in order
for me to join Mistress at the dinner table afterwards.
Bernadette
arrived shortly after. She looked presentable, but getting into her uniform
clearly was a rush job. She did not bother with answering my greeting as she
entered my room. She yawned as she untied my neck and legs from the bed. She
did not unlock my hands, though.
After
she put on my sandals and got me on my feet, Bernadette checked my appearance,
straightening my simple babydoll and hairnet. Thank goodness they got me out of
that terrible latex outfit when I was prepared for bed. When she was satisfied
the tall maid took hold of my neck and firmly directed me to the bathroom.
Jeanne
was waiting there. She looked even grumpier than Bernadette.
“Good
morning, Miss Jeanne. You are up early today as well.” I said politely.
She
shot me a glance. “Well, I wouldn't be if someone
hadn't called me out of bed this morning.”
“I'm
very sorry, Miss,” I replied timidly. “It really wasn't necessary for you to
get up. Miss Bernadette had already answered my call.”
“Oh,
I know that, stupid girl.” She tilted her head, giving me a stern look. “But we
agreed that today looking after you is a two woman job. Now, do your business
and call us when you are done.”
“Yes,
Miss Jeanne.” I felt unsettled. She wasn't just grumpy from being called out of
bed, but there was something else as well. An intense focus. I could feel it.
The
two maids waited outside as I entered the bathroom. I sat down gently on the
toilet, grunting as my sensitive behind protested, but relaxed as I relieved
myself. Mistress had made sure my glass was always filled the evening before,
and felt like I had drank the whole bottle. I was fortunate I did not have to
do the other business, as my hands were still tied and cleaning myself with chained
hands is both awkward and humiliating.
When
I was done I pulled up my panties and flushed the toilet. I called for my
jailers.
“Miss
Jeanne? Miss Bernadette? I'm done. I'm coming out.” It was still almost an hour
before my wake-up time and I was looking forward for some more time alone. Even
if it was while being tied down to my bed.
The
door opened, and the two maids stepped inside. “Don't bother, girl. We are not
done here yet,” the maid with black hair said.
“We're
not?” I said startled.
“No,”
Bernadette said. “Do you really think we are going to put you back in bed and
then wake you up an hour later? We have better things to do than walk you to
and from your room. You are awake, we are awake, might as well start the day
here and now.”
“Yes,
Miss Bernadette,” I said submissively. So much for another hour of privacy and
solitude.
Jeanne
uncuffed my left wrist. “Strip girl. Time to get you in the shower.”
Despite
being ordered to, I didn't actually have to strip. The maid pulled my clothes
off me. Babydoll, corset, panties, night cap, collar, the maids collected them
all and threw them in a basket in the corner. They even unstrapped my heels for
me.
Then
they started undressing themselves.
“What
are you doing?” I said in surprise.
“Getting
undressed, obviously” Bernadette said, making Jeanne snigger.
“Well...
Er... Yes... I can see that... But... Why?” I stammered as I saw Jeanne unhook
Bernadette's bra. Her breasts weren't particularly large, but firm, perfectly
complementing her strong musculature that was visible on her naked arms and
torso.
Jeanne
said something French to Bernadette, which made both laugh, then said to me.
“We are joining you under the shower, silly girl. Thanks to you we don't have
the time to clean ourselves in private before our shift starts, so we decided
to join you.” She smiled at me mockingly.
“Oh...”
was all I said. To be honest I now was mostly focused on these two young women
as they were undressing themselves. Their movements were slower than was
necessary, allowing me to get a good look of their appearance. Where Bernadette
was strong and athletic, Jeanne was more buxom with softer flesh. She had a
very cute birth mark on her behind.
“Look
at that Bernadette, our sissy likes how we look!” She smiled widely as she
nodded at my clitty that had gotten excited without me even realizing. I turned
red and covered my privates, quickly looking at the floor.
“Oh,
don't be such a prude,” Bernadette said with a snigger. “We are all girls here.
After all, your boobs are larger than mine!”
The
two maids laughed, and I was certain I turned an even darker colour red.
It
was very doubtful they really accepted me as 'one of the girls', since it was
crystal clear I was not their equal. When they finished undressing, the two
maids turned towards me, and without a single word approached me from either
side. They both grabbed my wrists and held on firm. Bernadette put her other
hand at the back of my neck and pushed me towards the shower.
The
shower cell was reasonably large, but with tree naked women inside (well, two
plus one sissy...) it was crowded. I felt Jeanne's bosom press against my back,
which was not an altogether unpleasant feeling.
Bernadette
grabbed the handcuffs still dangling from my right wrist. She pulled it around
a pipe and pulled my left wrist towards it.
“Bernadette?
What are you doing?” I cried.
“Playing
the piano,” she said sarcastically. “What does it look like I'm doing?” She
forced my wrist into the cuff.
“You
cannot tie me up under the shower!” I
cried in dismay. Shower time was special to me. One of the few times I felt
completely fee. They could not take that away like this!
She
locked the cuff shut. “Well, what do you know? I guess you can, yes?” She said
with a chuckle. “Don't worry, Cheryl, it is perfectly safe. This is stainless
steel, so a couple of droplets won't make it rust.”
“That
is not what I mean,” I whined. “You shouldn't bother me under the shower.”
“It
is not for you to decide whether we should bother you or not,” Bernadette spoke
with her thick French accent. “Now hush, girl, or I'll wash that mouth of yours
with soap.”
That
did not silence me. “But it is for Mistress
to decide!” I snapped. “Does she approve of this?” My tone was defiant. I may
have been Mistress' bitch, but not theirs!
This
caused a moment of pause in the two maids. If that was because my question
struck a nerve, or because they were surprised by my insolence I did not know.
Jeanne was holding a bright bottle of shampoo, but was looking at me with
interest. The maids exchanged a glance.
“Perhaps
not,” the smaller maid said as she turned back towards me. She turned on the
water, which poured from the tap in front of me. “Why don't you ask her when
you see her?”
“I
will,” I said with an impudent tone.
Bernadette
sniggered. “You will have to wait until tomorrow, though.”
“Huh?”
Jeanne
elaborated as she checked the temperature of the water. “Madam Rosenberg has
been called away on important business during the night. We are not expecting
her back until tomorrow morning. We have been asked to take care of you in the
meantime. She has given us some specific instructions, but left it to us how
we'd execute them.”
When
she was satisfied with the temperature, she took down the showerhead and
flipped the knob, warm water praying out of it, droplets hitting my legs.
She
aimed the spray of water higher and higher, until even my chest was wet. “Your
Mistress has a keen interest in you. So if we interpreted our instructions
incorrectly or unfairly, I'm sure Miss Rosenberg would like to know.”
She
suddenly held the showerhead over my head, soaking my hair and streams were
running down my face. I grunted and vainly pulled on my cuffs.
She
handed the showerhead to Bernadette, who spayed my back with it, then held it
over her own head as she ran her other hand through her wet hair.
Jeanne
squeezed in the shampoo bottle, pouring its contents over the top of my head.
She started rubbing the liquid through my hair. “Of course, if you are wrong,
then your criticisms are not just a challenge to our authority, they are also a
direct insult to your Mistress. And they would be punished accordingly.”
One
hand grabbed my chin. The shampoo had made the fingers slippery, but they held
me tight as they turned my head towards Jeanne's face. The raven-haired maid
gave me a sharp look. “Are you sure you want to talk to Miss Margot?”
My
lower lip trembled with frustration. “...No...” I finally said. Mentioning
Mistress was the only defense I had against these maids, and they had effectively
disarmed me.
Jeanne
grinned as she applied some oily lotion on my skin. “I thought as much,” she
said with a grin. I squirmed as she rubbed some lotion between my ass cheeks.
Jeanne
continued talking “Anyway, today there is just you and us. And believe me when
I say that your Mistress has given us permission to use whatever punishment on
you we see fit if you are rebellious. But that will not be necessary, because
you are going to be a good girl
today.” I gasped when she squeezed my breast, pain shooting trough me. “Isn't
that right, Cheryl?”
I
grunted “... Yes, Miss Jeanne!”
She
let go gently. “Very good. Now just relax girl. Bernadette here is great with
her fingers and willing to use her skills on you. She knows just how to deal
with those sore spots. You'll feel wonderful when she's done. And the rest of
the day there will be no games, no bondage and no penalty box. Doesn't that
sound wonderful?”
Bernadette
pushed her thumbs against my back. I groaned as my muscles protested, but as she
started to rub and massage them it really did feel relaxing. “Yes, Miss
Jeanne.”
“Good
girl,” She said as she held the showerhead over her own head.
**********
If
Jeanne's assurances had given me the impression today was going to be a
relaxing day off, I was sorely mistaken.
The
two maids had taken it upon themselves to 'keep me busy' while Mistress was
away. They feared that all that running around while being tied up would be
detrimental to my behaviour as a properly feminine sissy, so they decided to
'reset my mind' as they called it ominously. After being a scared little damsel
in distress for the last few days, they were going to refresh my skills in the
feminine arts, mould me back into an ultra-feminine sissy-girl.
After
our communal shower session they took me to the dressing room. The two maids
were dressed in their practical uniforms again, but had taken their time to
look immaculate. I was still naked when they placed me on the platform, but at
least they had removed the handcuffs.
They
opened one of the remaining boxes and took out its content. I recognized it
instantly.
“Your
Mistress was probably saving this one for some naughty role-playing,” Jeanne
said. “But since you'll be spending the day with two maids we thought you'd
need a matching uniform.”
If
that was supposed to be a joke, it was a mean one. There was nothing matching
between her very practical uniform (which did not even hint at servitude, she
looked more like a prison warden) and the one I was supposed to wear. It looked
a lot like the one I had worn as a coquette. Baby pink satin, white frills,
with a ridiculous small apron in front. White maid's cap. The pink mary-janes
with four inch heels were included as well. The pink gloves were new.
I
must really have made an impression that day. This was the second time Mistress
Margot wanted me to wear an outfit like that one.
But
something that was very different were all the locks I saw on the outfit. “Miss
Jeanne! You said no bondage today,” I cried.
She
looked me straight in the eyes, raising one eyebrow. It made me wince. “These
are just accessories, silly girl. A couple of fancy ornaments. Nothing more. We
are not going to tie you up.” Apparently locking outfits do not count as
bondage in this mansion.
“Open
your mouth, Cheryl,” Bernadette said to me when she held up my plug for the
day. “Make it nice and slick.” I obeyed, and squirmed when she put it in my
behind.
They
started to dress me. My undies were mostly white satin. A gaff. Bra and
panties, a short but tight corset, garter and stockings and fluffy petticoats.
I
stepped into the mary-janes and the dress was pulled over my head. The apron
was tied with a voluminous bow at the back and the gloves were put on my hands.
They finished with a tight chocker that felt durable enough to function as a
collar.
“Just
one more thing,” Jeanne said with a smirk and she moved quickly from top to
bottom. Click-click-click-click I heard as she closed the locks on my
'accessories', securing the chocker, dress, gloves and heels in place.
Next
I was taken to the vanity mirror for my makeup and hairdo. They spent quite
some time on my hair. After our shower my curls had lost some of their lustre
and volume, so Bernadette used the contents of three different bottles until it
was as pretty as when I stepped out of Miss Daphne's salon. She let my hair
fall loosely over my shoulder, my maid's cap keeping locks of hair out of my
face. Meanwhile Jeanne applied my makeup, applying bright colours for a very
unsubtle appearance. Some tacky jewellery reinforced that.
When
they were done they placed me back on the platform and spent another fifteen
minutes on double checking everything and fixing even the most minute flaw,
squabbling with each other whether my seams were perfectly straight.
“When
we are done you will look absolutely adorable,” Jeanne said at some point. I
smiled gratefully. I will look absolutely ridiculous, I thought to myself.
In
the end we were both right. They placed me in front of a standing mirror so I
could get a good look of myself. I saw a cloudlet of pink and white, flanked on
either side by two women in grey and black uniforms. They were all smiling, but
the women looked like they were enjoying a particularly nice case of malicious
pleasure, while the girl was smiling to hide the fact she was close to tears.
I
had to admit that the girl in the refection did look very adorable in her girlish
uniform, her panties just peeking out from under her skirt, her long legs clad
in white, standing on two cute pink stilettos. Her makeup looked far too mature
for a girl her apparent age, though. The
young girl seemed mortified, however. Trapped in her ridiculously frilly prison
that was locked around her.
The
sniggering of the maids further drained what was left of my emaciated pride.
“VoilĂ , the perfect sissy maid,” Jeanne said chuckling, but with a modicum of
pride in her voice.
I
force a cute giggle out of my mouth. “Thank you, Miss Jeanne. I look very
pretty. Are we done here? What are we going to do next?” Though admittedly the
view was quite exciting, the realization that I was the view made me sick to my stomach. I really wanted to get
away from this mirror and be somewhere else. Anywhere else.
The
maid seemed to have read my mind. She smiled wickedly. “There is no rush, girl.
You may admire yourself a bit longer. In fact, you should pose in your cute
outfit. Sissies just love to pose in front of the mirror, don't they,
Bernadette?”
The
other maid had difficulty not laughing. “That is right, Jeanne. Sissies just love
to look at themselves in their frilly outfits while they fantasize about all
the big cocks that would fit in their mouths an little holes.” They
simultaneously barked an amused laugh.
The
layer of blush the maids had applied on my cheeks was thick and bright, but I'm
sure my real one burned right through it for an even deeper shade of red.
“Er... Thank you, Miss. But that will not be necessary,” I tried. “I'm sure
that I can be useful elsewhere, and...”
I
squealed in surprise and dismay as Bernadette clipped me around the ears.
“That
was not a suggestion, girl. I want you to look at yourself and pose as a good
little sissy. Is that understood?” Her voice was threatening.
I
nodded. She clipped me again.
“Speak
when you are spoken to, girl! I asked you: is that understood?”
“Yes,
Miss Bernadette!” I said frantically. I turned to the mirror and reluctantly
struck a submissive pose.
“Don't
look at the floor, girl! Eyes on the mirror!” Jeanne snapped at me. “Look at
yourself. And smile, sissy. Remember, you love to look at yourself.”
What
can I say? I looked at the mirror, smiling. I struck my pose as Ingrid had
taught me. The two maids smiled contently.
“Good.
Now another,” Jeanne said. “Yes, that is nice. What more have you got? Hmmm,
nice curtsey. They've taught you well. But try something different.”
“What
do you mean, Miss Jeanne?” I asked.
The
maid sighed. “Don't just show us what you've learned at Christina's, girl. A
monkey can do that. Get creative. Use your imagination.” She looked at me with
a stern gaze. “You are a happy little sissy in the cutest outfit and you want
to show the world just how adorable you are. You cannot express that with a
practised bob, you just have to show it.”
“I
do not understand, Miss Jeanne,” I replied.
Bernadette
interrupted with a snort, and I could hear an exasperated and resigned sort of
annoyance you'd feel for a dumb child or very slow student. “Just improvise,
stupid girl,” she said. “Strike a pose. Any pose, as long as makes you look and
feel cute and girly. Then admire yourself in the mirror, and strike
another. You understand, yes?“
I
had to act like a idiot in front of the mirror. Like a sissified idiot, no
less. Yes, that part I got. “I understand, Miss Bernadette.”
“Well
then, what are you waiting for? Show your stuff.“ The tall maid nodded towards the mirror.
I
looked at my reflection, trying to ignore the beauty in pink that was looking
back at me. I was not sure what to do next.
For weeks now, I had been told how to move and act, every movement
well-defined and practised. Now I had to devise new feminine poses on the spot,
out of my own volition.
I
thought about all those pictures where beach girls in their bikinis put one
hand behind their head and the other on the hip, slightly bending their legs.
Slowly, reluctantly, I mimicked their pose.
Bernadette
sniggered. Jeanne snorted.
“That
is just horrible, girl” The tall maid admonished with an amused tone. “Put some
more effort in. More feeling. Tilt that
head a bit, look from under your eyebrows. Eyes wider Hips forward. Part your
lips, and pucker them a bit. Breathe slowly.” Jeanne said something to
Bernadette, but the tall maid brushed her off with a gesture.
I
did my best to apply Bernadette's torrent of instructions. The girl in front of
me shifted her pose. I had to admit it did look better. More sexy.
“Not
so tense, Cheryl. Relax. Remember, this is fun. You are enjoying this. You are
doing this because you like it. Let it show.”
I
did not know how to do that. I wasn't
enjoying this. I was being forced, after all. But I had no choice. I had to
pretend, and make it look real. I thought how hot I looked in my cute dress and
heels.
I
saw Bernadette's reflection smile broadly. “See? Much better,” she said. “Try
another one.”
I
changed pose, and the change was remarkably smooth. I felt my reluctance
regressing as my reflection moved one hand to her chest and the other on my
leg, while she put her weight on one foot and raised her other knee until her
heel was up to her calf. Her expression betrayed a shy curiosity. And dare I
say, perhaps a hint of exhibitionism too?
Bernadette
seemed very content. Jeanne still regarded me critically, but nodded in
approval as well.
I
did not know many feminine poses that I could remember from normal photographs,
but I had seen my fair share of the more pornographic ones. I soon resorted to
mimicking those. The Bernadette sniggered as they saw me perform, but did not
say anything. Jeanne frowned then shook her head.
“Stop
that, girl,” the smaller maid said sternly. “You are not a vamp, nor are you a
seductress. You are a sissy. This means you are sexually passive, but also
weak-willed and easily dominated. You attract attention not because you want
to, but because you cannot help yourself. The naughty stuff happens when you
least expect it. Make it show.”
My
brain struggled with that enigmatic bit of instruction, but my body seemed to
understand it perfectly. I showed surprise, eyes wide and mouth partially open,
like I couldn't quite comprehend what was happening to me (well, I've had a lot
of practice with that part). I put one hand on my cheek, the other on my chest.
I didn't even realize I had straightened my legs and bent forward slightly.
Now
Jeanne looked pleased as well. “Yes, that is excellent,” She said smiling.
“Keep it up, girl. Show yourself what a cute and submissive sissy you are. And
remember, make sure you enjoy it.”
I
changed poses, turning slightly, raising one leg while my arms were weakly at
my sides. The maids did not say anything, but I could see their approval in
their reflection. Then I changed my stance again. And again. And all the time I
did not take my eyes of the pretty little sissy in front of me.
And
God help me, I actually was enjoying myself! I was fully aware that the pretty
girl in the mirror was me. And I felt everything she felt. I was pretty. An
adorable sissy. The satin felt soft smooth on my skin. The ruffling of my skirt
sounded like a soft summer wind. My heels made me feel tall. Only a little
voice in the back of my head rebelled: what on earth were they doing to me?
“I
think she is ready,” Jeanne finally said. “We can begin. Bring her along.”
“You
heard her,” Bernadette said to me. “No more dawdling. Get that lovely ass
moving, girl!“ I gave a lovely squeal when she slapped my behind. She put her
hand on my shoulder as she guided me towards the door. Her grip seemed gentle,
but clearly brooked no opposition.
Not
that I had any defiance in me. Not like those other days, when Mistress had
drained me and broken all resistance. It was hard to explain, but I felt like I
was right where I was supposed to be to be. Where I wanted to be. My heels clicked with a comforting sense of
familiarity as the maids escorted me out of the door.
***************
The
rest of the day they took me along as they went about their duties around the
mansion. Which is to say that I performed their duties, while they watched my
every move. Whether cleaning, laundering or dusting, they circled me like
wolves as they ensured I behaved properly sissified. Bliss and concern about my
current situation battled at the back of my head, but I focused on my tasks at
hand.
Which
was actually more difficult than you'd think. I was a trained sissy maid at
Mistress Christina's household, but despite al her demands on my appearance and
demeanour, I had tasks to perform and a schedule to keep. Ten minutes to clean
each bedroom. Half an hour for the laundry. One hour vacuuming. I may mince
around in high heels, but I still had to work diligently to finish all my
chores on time.
Here
I spent half an hour just wiping a table with a cloth that wasn't even wet.
Twenty minutes dusting for cobwebs that weren't there. It was insane, really.
They didn't care one bit on how well I performed my chores, or if I even managed
to finish them, but I had to look positively adorable while doing them. My
every movement had to be exaggerated, every gesture extravagant, every
expression overdone. I was to act so cluelessly feminine, so ridiculously weak
and submissive, that I'd believe it myself.
All
the while the maids gave me 'helpful' advice. And if that wasn't enough,
Bernadette stood ready with her multi-tailed whip to drive the lesson home.
“Hurry,
girl. Run. No, no, no! Pay attention, stupid girl. A sissy does not run to get
somewhere fast, but to exaggerate her
girlish flaunt as she skitters in her heels, waving her hands to the rhythm of
her steps. Listen to the ruffling of your skirt. Feel the bounce of your
breasts. Again. Oh, you are hopeless. Bend over and raise your skirt.
Bernadette? Five lashes, if you please?”
Then
they would place me in front of a mirror and have me pose again. As the pain of
my spanking receded, so was my mind filled with the pink frilly picture of what
I had become. I don't know how or why, but I felt I was becoming very
impressionable. At some point Jeanne mentioned how nice it was that I was so
malleable. That made me blush gratefully, and I smiled sincerely for her
compliment.
They
were messing with my mind and it was scarily effective.
It
was clear that despite my current outfit, I was not a real maid. Not in this
mansion, anyway. Merely an ornament that looked like one. Something to keep me
busy until Mistress came back and desired to torment her sissy again.
Nevertheless,
the two maids took this opportunity to have me serve them during lunchtime. For
an hour their stern gaze and strict commands were replaced with genuine mirth
as they watched their pupil flutter about serving them the tea, sandwiches and
orange juice the chef had prepared. They joked about my appearance, laughed at
my inadequacies and slapped my behind when I bent forward to place something on
the table. I was simply happy to see these two stern ladies smile and laugh,
even if it was at my expense.
After
lunch it was back to business, and the maids watched me gravely as I continued
with my futile tasks while being a properly behaved sissy. Still, they were
obviously pleased with my progress and Jeanne decided she could handle me
herself. Bernadette handed her the whip and left, perhaps to perform some task
that actually required getting something cleaned...
Later
Bernadette returned and relieved the smaller maid. They alternated every hour
or so, but one pair of eyes was always watching me. Jeanne was stricter,
finding the smallest faults in my actions, but Bernadette hit harder when she
decided to whip me. Both said it was for my own good, and I agreed with them. I
consciously ignored any rebellious thoughts as I put every effort in being the
perfect little sissy.
************
It
was well into the evening when Jeanne walked into the room where Bernadette was
watching me mess around. I was quite tired by then. My silly tasks hadn't been
difficult themselves, but performing them in my exaggerated feminine manner had
taken its toll on me. Not to mention standing on four inch heels for most of
the day. I also felt very dumb. After hours and hours of acting like a
brainless bimbo I was sure my IQ had halved. I had trouble focusing and barely
noticed the raven-haired maid whisper something to her tall colleague, who
raised her eyebrow, then nodded.
“Cheryl?
You can leave that,” Bernadette said out loud. “We are done here. Come with
us.”
“Yes,
Miss Bernadette,” I replied. I gave myself a quick check in a mirror. Despite
everything, I looked immaculate. All day I had to make sure not a single speck
of dust or stain would soil my appearance, and it had paid off.
The
two maids directed me down the corridor, with me a few paces before them,
mincing in my excessively feminine gait that by now came natural to me.
“Where
are we going, Miss Bernadette?” I asked, while ensuring the bounce of my
breasts was in synch with the clicking of my heels.
“We
are taking you to meet your Mistress,” she answered.
“Mistress
is back?” I asked surprised. I almost forgot to make a properly incredulous
expression with my mouth and hands.
“She
just arrived. Apparently her business had been concluded earlier than expected.
She would like to see you before she retires to bed.”
This
filled me with conflicting emotions. The sissy persona I had been nurturing all
day was feeling elated with meeting my Mistress again. Every other aspect felt
my blood run cold.
They
took me to Mistress' drawing room. She was waiting for me in her wide chair
with the large back.
Her
eyes beamed as she saw me. She smiled widely, but I noticed her suppressing an
urge to grin. She was wearing the outfit I assumed she wore to her business
meeting. An expensive two piece suit, jacket and skirt, that was somewhere
between black and dark blue. The jacket was closed with two buttons and covered
a white silk blouse that was unbuttoned just far enough to show some cleavage,
but was still classy. Her skirt fell over her knees and covered most of her
stockinged legs. On her feet she wore pumps of a simple model but superior
quality with a low heel. Her makeup accentuated her stern gaze, but was
otherwise subtle. The only thing that was slightly off were the short leather
gloves she was wearing, her hands folded in front of her.
I
had no idea where she had been or how far she had travelled, but she looked
like she had just got dressed for the occasion.
“Miss
Rosenberg,” Jeanne spoke. “May we present your protĂ©gĂ©e, sissy Cheryl.”
I
minced up to Mistress and bobbed a respectful curtsey. “Good evening, Mistress.
It is my pleasure to meet you again. And may I say how glad I am that you
managed to come home early?”
She
nodded as she smiled, but she never took her eyes off me. “Why thank you, my
dear. But I couldn't stay a moment longer knowing such a pretty girl was
waiting for me at home. And just look at you, aren't you adorable. A pink sissy
maid. Why on earth did you decide to wear that outfit?”
I
wasn't about to mention that only a day before she explicitly told me I did not
get to decide which outfit I could wear.
“Well...
Miss Jeanne and Bernadette needed my help with cleaning, and they... Er... I...
Thought I should wear something appropriate,” I said, trying not to make my lie
too obvious.
“Help
with cleaning? But my dear, you are my guest, not my maid! Is this true,
Jeanne? Did you ask our honoured guest for help with your responsibilities?”
“Oh,
certainly not, Ma'am.” the maid said without a hint of emotion. I heard
Bernadette suppress a chuckle. “Sweet Cheryl here volunteered. Apparently she
did not want to remain idle while her Mistress was busy.” A smile showed on her
face. “She was very anxious to help,
Ma'am.”
“Is
this true, Cheryl? Did you ask my subordinates if you could perform maid's
tasks while wearing a uniform?”
Why
was she doing this to me? She knew
that was not true! She knew, I knew, the maids knew, everyone knew. Why did I have to humiliate myself further by
pretending it was all my own choice?
“Oh,
of course, Mistress,” I said without
delay or hesitation. My facial expression and hand gestures conveying the utter
impossibility of any other option. “I'm good girl and a proper sissy. I cannot
remain idle while women labour. And a proper sissy requires a proper uniform.”
I giggled, and fluttered my eyelashes shyly.
Mistress
smiled. She glanced at her two maids. An unspoken question was uttered by
Mistress as she raised her eyebrow. Jeanne answered with a barely noticeable
nod.
She
turned back towards me. “Well, that was very sweet of you, my dear. Tell me, Bernadette,
was she of any use?”
The
tall maid laughed. “She is probably the most hopeless maid I've ever seen, but
most certainly the most adorable one. She could not properly handle the
simplest task and required continuous oversight. But it was lovely seeing her
try.” This made me blush.
Now
Mistress laughed. “Oh, that is good enough. I already have two very good maids.
I will happily settle for adorable.”
Mistress
clapped her hands. “Well, it is getting late. I'm turning in for the night
soon. It has been a long day,” she smiled at me, “For all of us. Jeanne?
Bernadette? I will not require your services anymore. I will take Cheryl here
to her bed. Goodnight, ladies.”
“Goodnight,
Ma'am,” the two maids said in unison. “You too, Cheryl,” Bernadette said to me,
a grin on her face. I replied politely, but half-heartedly.
“Cheryl? Come sit with me my dear.” Mistress
said, gesturing to her lap.
“Really
Mistress?” I waved my arms to express my surprise, my face radiating startled
wonder. “I'd be happy to, Mistress” I replied enthusiastically.
I
sat down and she put her arms around me, giving me a kiss on the lips, pushing
her tongue in deep. I had to gasp for breath when she finally withdrew.
“How
was your day, Mistress?” I asked to hide my fluster. “Did everything go well
with your business meeting?”
She
sniggered. “Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about that, my dear.
Instead, I have something else for you to marvel at.”
Part
of me was very elated. Everything else was very suspicious. “Really, Mistress?
What is it?”
“I
have a surprise for you. Two actually. Turn around. Sit with your back towards
me.”
“Yes
Mistress,” I didn't hesitate, but alarm bells were ringing in my skull. Still
sitting on her lap, I turned my back towards her.
She
gave me a soft kiss in the nape of my neck. “Close your eyes, my dear.”
I
obeyed. Despite today's conditioning, I could feel myself strain my muscles. I
heard Mistress take something out of her purse. My heart started to pound, my
breathing rate increased.
I
almost jumped when I felt Mistress' hands around my neck.
“Relax,
dear. You can open your eyes,” Mistress said as she fiddled behind my neck.
I
did and looked down. I saw the necklace she had placed around my neck. The
chain shone like polished silver. The pendant contained a intricately cut stone
of rose quartz.
“Mistress!”
I said elated. I held the pendant. The material wasn't the of the most
expensive sort, but the stone showed a lot of workmanship. “It is beautiful,” I
finally uttered.
“You
like it?” Mistress asked softly
I
started at the gift. “It's wonderful, Mistress. Really wonderful. But...”
“But
what?”
I
looked at the floor in a mixture of shame and regret. “I cannot accept this. It
is too expensive. I'm only visiting for a week, then I'll be gone. Someone else
deserves this more.”
Mistress
sniggered. “Oh nonsense, my dear. When I saw this necklace, I thought
immediately of you. And when I saw you in your adorable outfit, I knew I was
right. It really was made for you.” She reached for my hands and pulled them
away from the pendant. It hung between my breasts.
Mistress
continued speaking” “It is my gift to you, and I will not take 'no' for an
answer.”
I
hesitated. Completely thrown off balance by this unexpected turn of events. “I
do not know what to say, Mistress.”
Mistress
gave a short chuckle. “That is just fine, my dear. There are times when one has
ample opportunity to speak, but cannot find the words. And there are times when
one knows the words, but speech is silenced.”
“Huh?”
“Never
mind, my dear. I'm just feeling philosophical tonight.” She turned my head, and
kissed me on the cheek. “Just say 'yes'.”
“Yes!”
I almost shouted. It was strange. I had never been interested in jewellery. Not
even expensive watches when I was still a man. But for some reason right here,
right now, this was the most beautiful gift I've ever seen.
“Good
girl.” She looked down at my legs that were kicking enthusiastically without me
even noticing. My mind was too awed by the beautiful necklace to notice my
girlish movements.
Mistress
whispered in my ear. “I have another gift for you, Cheryl. Would you like to
have it?”
My
heart soared. “Really Mistress? I'd love to!”
“You
sure, my dear?” Her tone had changed, but I did not really notice. Or I did not
care. “Yes or no, your choice. Just say the word.”
“Yes!”
I said expectantly.
“Very
well. Close your eyes. Relax, hands to your sides.” I did, uttering an elated
sigh.
She
rummaged through her purse, and I hear her take out the gift. She put her arms
around me.
I
gave a startled yelp when she forced the gag into my mouth.
I
didn't see it even when I opened my eyes, but I could feel the ball between my
lips while mistress pulled the straps further back. My hands shot upward, but
Mistress pinned my upper arms against my sides. I felt her secure the buckle
behind my head.
She
held me tight as I squirmed in her grip. I ineffectually flapped my hands and
kicked my legs. I heard mumbling as I shouted protests into my gag.
“What
is that, my dear? Do you want me to let go of you? Should I take your gag out?”
Yes!
I cried. Take it out! Take it out! Let me go! Only inaudible muttering reached
my ears.
“Oh,
I am sorry my dear. I have no idea
what you are saying.” Her chuckle was frightening, unearthly. “Alas, there are
times when one has ample opportunity to speak, but cannot find the words. And
there are times when one knows the words, but speech is silenced.” As she
quoted herself, her voice sounded like it came from some infernal pit.
“Take
a wild guess what this time is,” she said mockingly as I struggled in her grip,
shouting into my gag.
A
sharp pinch shot through my chest. It hurt even more as Mistress twisted my
nipple.
“Relax,
Cheryl. Listen to me. Focus.” She twisted the nipple further. “I said relax,
girl!” With a groan I finally did.
“Listen
to me very carefully. I'm going to take you to the penalty box. I'm going to
put you into something. And you'll be in there for hours and hours.”
If
I wasn't already relaxed, I would now be paralysed.
“Unless...”
She added conspiratorially, “Unless you do not want to, of course. Just say
'no', and I'll let you be. Just say 'no', my dear. Say it now.”
“Nuff!
Nugh! Nuh!”
She softly bit my neck, then her tongue went into my ear, and
kissed my cheek. “Qui tacet consentit," Mistress finally said with a
snigger. “That means 'silence gives consent'.”
While
holding me with one hand, she took out a pair of handcuffs from her purse. “I
hope you do not mind I add these, my dear?” She said as she dangled them next
to me.
“Nuh!
Plesff doffh!”
She
laughed as she snapped open the shackles. “I thought as much.”
I
squirmed in her grip. Pulled my arms. Cried into the gag. But to my shame and
horror, I could not prevent her from closing one cuff around my wrist.
Then
it was easy. She just pulled on my other arm and pulled it behind my back. She
brought it towards the other cuff, and with a click the shackle was closed.
“All
done. Up now, girl.”
I
got up all right. Not because she said so, but because I wanted to make a run
for it. I did not know where. I just wanted to be anywhere else. I turned on my
heels.
“Oh
no, you don't,” Mistress said as she shot up like a viper. She grabbed my hair
and pulled me back. I squealed.
She
turned me around and dragged me along. I struggled to keep upright in my heels
and bonds. She pushed me towards a mirror.
She
placed me in front of it, making sure I'd remain upright and fixed the bow at
my back that had come undone. Then she let go.
She
pointed to the mirror. “Pose,” she simply said.
My
eyes went wide with confusion. I couldn't pose like this! I was bound. I was
gagged! My reflection stared back in dismay.
She
clipped me around the ear, making me yelp. “Pose, I said!” She snarled.
Reluctantly,
I moved my body and feet. I got another slap on the cheek. “Like you've
practised. You want to pose. You like seeing yourself pose. You are happy that I allow you to pose.
Understood?”
I
understood. It is hard to smile when you are gagged, but I somehow managed. My
eyes end eyebrows started to show that same elated surprise I had been
practising all day. I couldn't use my hands for some extravagant gestures, but
I used my legs for all that they were worth.
It
took me no time at all to slip back into the sissy-persona I had been training
all day.
Soon
everything was again as it should be. I was pretty. Adorable. A perfect sissy.
My skirt ruffled as I moved and my panties felt smooth as silk. I didn't even
mind the fact that I was bound. Even the gag had become a natural part of my
appearance. It pleased my Mistress, so it pleased me.
As
I struck pose after pose, Mistress watched me with obvious content. At some
point she tightened my gag a bit more.
“You
know, I love gags,” she said as she fiddled with the straps. “Not because they
silence unruly sissies, mind you. That is just a nice bonus. Truth be told, you
can yell all you like because no-one will hear you. And if I ever got tired of a wailing sissy, I
could just spank her long and hard enough until just thinking about uttering a
sound would hurt.”
When
she was done, she stood next to me with her arm around me, and I saw her
reflection speak to me. “But I do not do that. You know why? Because of a
sissy's eyes. That's right, her eyes. I can see so many emotions in those
little blue orbs of yours. They are truly the window to the soul. I can see
your fear, your excitement, your desire, humiliation and confusion, even if you
don't realize them yourself.”
She
turned my chin towards her, and she looked me in the eyes. “But I also see that
glimmer of hope that if only you can appease me, or distract me, or perhaps
even threaten me, you can somehow regain control of the situation. That
treacherous idea that if you just get the right words across I would spare
you.”
She
kissed me on the lips, ignoring the ball in my mouth. “And that is when I gag
you. You want to speak the words that you think would disarm me, but they are
silenced by that big red ball in your mouth. Then you desperately struggle to
get the words across anyhow, and you furiously fight against the gag that will
inevitably win.”
She
grinned in a terrible way. “And while you struggle with your own vain sense of
hope, I see it in your eyes turn into the most delectable dismay.”
She
let go or me and stepped aside. “I did not say stop, Cheryl.” She gestured
towards the mirror. “Continue.” I saw my reflection smile as she struck another
pose.
She
kept me in front of the mirror for a while, making sure I was in the right
frame of mind before continuing. I do not know if she was bluffing or if she
really could read my emotions from my eyes, but only when I was posing with a
enthusiasm and excitement that was both very concerning and comforting to me,
did she allow me to stop. And I was excited, my gaff left no doubt about that.
“That
is enough, my dear. Very well done. Let's go.” She said as she put her hand on
my back. She didn't even have to push to guide me towards the door. I followed
obediently, with short dainty steps that were cute, girlish and submissive. The
sound of my heels betrayed a sense of delight in being forced towards parts
unknown.
Mistress
didn't even have to push me down the corridor. I smiled as I minced over the
ancient marble, enjoying the sound my mary-janes made as my stilettos touched
the floor. My hands were still cuffed, so I could not sway them around
prettily, but the exaggerated movements of my legs more than made up for it.
Mistress chuckled with obvious pleasure as she watched me move along.
The
two maids had taught me to coo and moan on occasion, to show that just being me
was a delightful experience. Remarkably, the gag did not seem to smother my
childish sounds. And boy, did Mistress love it.
I
looked down the corridor in awe. Two days ago Mistress had chased me down this
hallway, but while it seemed dark and constricting then, now it looked
colourful and inviting. I smiled and my eyelashes fluttered as the ancient
walls greeted me warmly and urged me forward. It is hard to explain, but it
seemed like I was watching the world through coloured glasses. Pink glasses in
my case, I'm sure. Somewhere, in the back of my head did I know it was false,
an illusion. But I blissfully ignored it.
When
we finally arrived, the door to the penalty box was already open. It looked
like a maw of some mythical beast. Two off-coloured stones above the door
stared at me like a pair of asymmetric eyes. The ancient wood of the door frame
resembled fangs that were taller than I was.
Still
I smiled blissfully, and without hesitation I minced into the room. Like I was
stepping up to a wild and hungry grizzly bear expecting I could cuddle it.
Only
when I was inside did I stop smiling. The penalty box was dark, with only one
tiny light to illuminate its wicked interior. It seemed smaller now, like a
prison cell. Half-glimpsed furniture stood around the tiny circle of light like
a pack of wolves, only kept at bay by a dying torch.
Whatever
bliss had possessed me moments before, it was gone now. I was suddenly very
conscious of the handcuffs Mistress controlled me with. The gag felt alien as
it invaded my mouth. The thought I had
just eagerly stepped inside this dungeon tore me up, like I had been betrayed.
I had betrayed myself!
My
heart started to pound and shivers ran down my spine. I felt panic rising and
anxiously turned around for an exit. The door was gone. Mistress had closed it
and the darkness covered it with a black veil.
Even
the windows were invisible. My conscious mind reasoned I could not see them
because the blinds were closed, but my imagination told me I had just stepped
into the twilight zone, where there was nothing but me and half-glimpsed
daemons at the edges of my vision.
And
in the middle of it all there was the overfiend herself. Her beautiful features
partially illuminated by the light, partially covered by shadows blacker than
pitch. She hardly seemed human anymore, both something much more and something
much less. She smiled at me terribly.
“Come
here, Cheryl.” She simply said.
I
obeyed. I didn't want to, goodness no. I just wanted to turn and run. But I
could not. I had no resistance left. What mere sissy could resist the will of
this Lady of Darkness? I minced up to
Mistress, my eyes wide with awe and fear.
She
put her arm around me, her had holding the back of my neck. She kissed me hard
in my neck, and I was sure she left a hickey.
Then
she turned my head towards the cage she was standing next to. It was incredibly
small. Only slightly taller than I was, with vertical and horizontal bars that
formed the rough outline of a person. A thick chain was connected to its top. I
realized I was looking at a gibbet.
I
didn't speak any words, but I heard myself groan.
With
her free hand she unlocked to door to the cage. “You know, all day I could not
stop thinking about you,” Mistress said. “I had a wonderful idea for us to try
out. And when I unexpectedly finished early, I hurried home. But you know how
those things go. Delays, traffic, the usual. And now it is too late. Even I
need my beauty sleep from time to time. ”
She
guided me to the cage. She didn't have to use force, but I wasn't quite moving
voluntarily either. “But after seeing you in your adorable outfit, I wanted to
make sure you are available to me first thing in the morning. I suggest you get
some sleep as well. Tomorrow is going to be a gruelling day.” She winked at me
with wicked delight. “Raise your foot. Step inside. Now the other one. Good
girl.”
I
inadvertently cooed as she placed me inside the cage and shut the door behind
me. The metal bars surrounded me like a straight jacket. My head and legs had
some room to move, but not much. I head the clicking of a padlock.
To
my surprise, she unlocked my handcuffs. “You will not need those,” she said as
she smiled. It did make me a bit more comfortable, but I certainly wasn't going
anywhere. She left my gag in, though.
I
couldn't really turn my head, but I could just see Mistress walk over to the
edge of the circle of light. She raised her hand, and I heard a click. Then
there was the whirring of an electric engine and the dangling of chains.
I
felt startled as my cage vibrated, then trembled as it was lifted of the floor.
I moaned in dismay. Being locked in here was horrible, but losing touch with
the floor somehow was a step to far.
Mistress
walked back to me and turned the cage around. She smiled as she looked up to
me. I was only a foot or so in the air, but I felt like I was floating in
space, surrounded by nothingness with only a far away star to illuminate my
prison.
She
reached trough the bars and touched my breasts, gently stroking it. I gasped.
“Are you comfortable dear? I've been told that if you just relax and lean
against the bars, it is as cosy as a bed.” Her other hand went under my skirt.
Her fingers slipped under my panties and beneath my gaff. “You should have no
trouble dozing off. You can actually stand
in your lovely heels while sleeping. Isn't that glorious? And when you wake up,
I will be right here. And then the fun really begins.”
She
let go of me and walked out of the circle of light, disappearing into the
darkness. Another light was turned on, even weaker than the one above me. It
shone on a large but compact item I couldn't identify. The various straps,
chains and cuffs marked it as bondage furniture, but I had no idea how it was
supposed to be used.
Mistress
smiled at me as she walked up to the item. She reached for the contraption and
in the dark half-light I saw her fiddle with it. I hear a click, then a groan
as a beam swung aside and a hard 'clack' was audible as it locked into its new
position. From the beam Mistress deployed two bars and locked then in place.
Then she went to the other side of the contraption and another beam swung
aside. She repeated this process several times and the compact item deployed
into a wide frame. It reminded me of a huge talon of some gargantuan
bird-of-prey that slowly opened, its metal claws aimed at me as it was about to
swoop down and strike.
All
cuffs and chains were directed at the focal point in between the claws. The
hapless sissy would not so much be bound, but hopelessly entangled by the most
complex web of chains I had ever seen.
That
infernal device frightened me. I did not want to be placed inside it. I started
to squirm in the gibbet. I could hardly move, but the cage started to gently
swing and turn. I cried into my gag. Please no, Mistress!
Mistress
walked back to my cage and stabilised my swing. “What is the matter, girl?
Don't like your cage? Want me to take you to your room?”
“Yuff!
Pfeefh, Miffruff! Yufh!” I cried. Damned gag! I tried raising my hands, pull
the ball out of my mouth, but the bars pinned my arms in place. I flapped my
hands a bit, wiggled my lower arms, but could not raise them to my face. I
desperately shouted, trying to get my voice across clearly.
Mistress
laughed wickedly as she listened to my desperate pleas. “What is that, Cheryl?
Did you say you just love your cage and cannot wait to be placed in my little
sextoy over there?”
“Noffh!
Nuh!”
“You
do? Marvellous! Well, tell you what? I will return first thing in the morning,
and we'll fool around for... Oh, let's say... Three hours. I'll even skip
breakfast, just for you.”
Three
hours? No! No, no, no! Please!
Her
hand went through the bars and stroked my cheek. “I've been told it's the Swiss
army knife of bondage furniture, a whole set of naughty functions and I'm very
interested to try out every single one.”
“Humpfh!
Hurmh!”
She
grabbed my chin and looked me straight in the eyes. Her eyes bored into mine.
She breathed deeply, smiled widely and sighed. “Oh, girl. I can just taste you
dread. You have no idea how intoxicating that is, and you never will.”
She
let go of me and walked towards the edge of the circle of light. “Well, time to
get some sleep. See you tomorrow, Cheryl. May your dreams be pleasant and girly.”
She flipped a switch and she disappeared in the darkness as the light above me
was extinguished.
I
heard her heels click and turn the heavy handle of the ancient door. Light
flooded the room from the yellow lamps down the corridor. I saw Mistress' dark
outline against the brightly illuminated doorway. “Remember, If you want me
just whistle. You know how to whistle don't you? Just put your lips together
and blow.” She laughed, but I did not get the joke. “Good night, my dear.”
No,
don't go, I yelled. Don't leave me here!
She
stepped outside and with a hard thump she closed the door. I was enveloped by
darkness, and couldn't even see the bars of my own cage. I only saw the huge
talon on the other side of the room as it reached for me.
*******************
The
rest of the week I lived in a daze. It was like I had stepped through the
looking glass into a warped world where Mistress defined my reality. Every day,
every game, every time in the penalty box, she subjected me to things that were
frightening, painful and humiliating, but also inventive, stimulating and
intoxicating. But above all it was confusing and I was never sure who I was
supposed to be. Depending on her mood, Mistress treated me like family, her
sextoy, lover, whipping boy (girl?), doll, pupil, opponent or whatever role she
imagined for me at that moment. And she could switch from one role to another
in the blink of an eye.
I
had trouble keeping up with her, and God help me if I didn't adapt to the
changing situation fast enough. Though to I was sure she did that just to see
me struggle and squirm.
At
any rate, the uncertainty was taking its toll on me. With all those quickly
changing roles I was supposed to play, I started to lose track of who I was. Sometimes I really was a good sissy,
sincerely submissive and obedient and genuinely thankful when Mistress showed a
modicum of gratitude. Other times I was rebellious and defiant, ready to
challenge Mistress and she'd need bonds and physical punishments to bring me to
heel. The same outfit I loathed in the morning I adored in the afternoon, only
to be humiliated by it in the evening.
This
was exactly what she wanted, as I discovered in one of my rare moments when I
was both lucid and defiant.
“You
cannot treat me like this!” I cried. “I'm not some piece of meat!”
Mistress
gave me curious look, then smiled warmly. “Well, of course not, my dear,” she
said like a condescending schoolteacher. “You have a lovely body, for sure, but
it is not what interests me in you. Oh goodness, no!”
She
tapped me on the front of my head. “It is that wonderful mind of yours that
makes you so desirable. It is like a piece of clay I can sculpt in every shape
I desire.” Her hand stroked my hair. “And when I'm tired of the way it looks, I
just squash it and start anew.”
I
was at a loss for words.
“It
is really your inside that counts, you understand? Speaking of your inside...
Open wide, honey, Here comes the choo-choo train.” she said with the same warm
smile.
A
few things were constant though. For one, I could no longer not act girlish. In one of my defiant
moods I decided to act like a boy. Walk with a swagger and sit down with a
slouch. I made sure neither Mistress or her maids were near, before I started
my little rebellion. To my horror I just couldn't stop mincing and prancing!
Sure, I was wearing heels which complicated matters, but surely my hands didn't
need to sway like that? And I really had to force myself to slouch on a chair,
and even then I kept my knees together and my hands properly folded over my
skirt. My private moment of insurrection was short-lived.
And
I hated Mistress. There, I said it! She completely dominated me, and I was
grateful for every respite she offered me and often I felt an certain awed
infatuation for her. I mostly feared her though, and deep down I hated her. I
was her prisoner and I wanted to be free. I wanted to go home.
However,
when I thought about home, my thoughts drifted away from the United States. I
started thinking about Mistress Christina...
One
evening I was lying in my bed. My hands were bound, but I wasn't tied down to
the bed. Perhaps they thought that after three-and-a-half hours in the penalty
box I wouldn't have enough energy to even sit upright.
Well,
I had to admit it was difficult, and I groaned as I put weight on my sore
behind. I glanced at the camera that was watching me, waiting for a response
via the speaker. The two maids were probably fast asleep, but experience had
thought me they could pick up on unusual movements.
There
were a few days left before I'd be returned to Mistress Christina. The rational
thing to do was to just grit my teeth and endure them. But there was nothing
rational in this madhouse (I most certainly wasn't) and I felt like I already
had spent eternity under Mistress' heel. I couldn't take it any longer.
I
made a decision. Tomorrow I would leave. I would thank Mistress for a very
'interesting' time and get the heck out of here. Perhaps she would understand I
had had enough and give me ride. If not, I would walk the whole way back to
town if need be, humiliating outfit be damned! I regretted I left the paper
scrap with Mikaela's phone number at Mistress Christina's mansion. She would
give me a ride.
I
gathered every shred of willpower I had left. Yes, tomorrow I would leave. And
neither Mistress or her maids would be able to stop me. I fell back onto my
bed, the mattress making a loud thump while pain shot though the sore spots on
my back, making me groan.
A
tired voice sounded over the speaker. “...What are you doing, Cheryl? Are you
alright?” Jeanne said.
My
heart skipped a beat, like I was a child who had gotten caught with her hand in
the cookie jar. “Nothing, Miss Jeanne. I
just... had a nice dream. That is all.”
Yes, a very nice dream indeed, I thought with a vindictive smirk.
4 comments:
Bambi this has been such a fun story! Do you have any ideas for what stories you'll write next?
Dave thank you for the drawing!
Nice piece Dave, I really like the expression on his face somewhere between confused and completely bewildered, trying to make sense of his situation- to no avail of course. The positioning of his hands is a great touch and expresses just how girly he has become.
Carrie
Thanks, Carrie and Jez, for the comments; it's good to get some more feedback at long last.
Jez, I'm glad to know you're enjoying this story. I hope your curiosity about whatever Bambi might write next isn't an indication that you're eager for the story to wrap up, as Charles'/Cheryl's adventure is still far from over.
I like the story mostly because of his helplessness. Really turns me on. Not knowing what to expect etc. Being dominated and being so cute too. Very nice. And the cute outfit the maids put him in. A really good sissy story. I want more.
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