Friday, February 20, 2015

Swiss Miss Sissy, Chapter 12

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.”


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. “Voilà, 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 protégée, 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.”


“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.


Jez said...

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!

Carrie P said...

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.

rocketdave said...

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.