Saturday, February 28, 2015

Swiss Miss Sissy, Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Skipping school. Can Cheryl find an escape from Mistress Margot?

by Bambi

Of course, dreams end with the coming of the dawn. When I woke up, Jeanne and Bernadette were already standing over me. The indomitability with which they got me out of bed shook last night's confidence. When they stripped me and cleaned me under the shower, my willpower further eroded. By the time they were done dressing me, there was very little left. When they presented my to Mistress, the absolute folly of my plan was crystal clear.

I was surrounded by three women as I bobbed a curtsey. The maids behind me at my sides, and Mistress in front of me sitting relaxed on her chair in the dining hall. She carefully looked at me from top to bottom.

I was wearing a school girl uniform. It had a white blouse with a light blue sailor-style collar and a pleated skirt. It reminded me of those school uniforms girls wear in those strange Japanese cartoons.

Unfortunately, it was just as ostentatious as those wacky costumes. The blue skirt only just covered my panties, and was so voluminous it flared up if I just turned around. The maids couldn't resist adding a big bow at the back. The collar was tied before me in another bow, low enough to show an amount of cleavage very unsuitable for a real school girl. On my back the embroidery of the wide collar had letters on it, spelling 'sissy'. The blouse underneath ended in puffy sleeves that only covered my shoulders, so my hands were covered in light blue gloves. On my legs I wore white socks that came up to my knees. They fit snugly in my white patent stilettos with straps. My hair was tied into loose pigtails and tied with blue ribbons.

My makeup was unusually subtle, emphasising shyness and chastity. It was remarkable, but judging form my outfits the longer I was here, the younger I seemed to get.

Underneath I wore my usual set of undies, including a tight corset. But aside from a modest plug I didn't wear any bondage.

Nor did I wear any jewellery, save for the silver necklace with the pink rose quartz Mistress had given me. “You wear a lot of blue today,” Bernadette had said. “That is a boy's colour. You need something to emphasise your feminine side.” Jeanne burst out laughing when she heard that.

I couldn't help fiddling with the pendant, that is until Bernadette slapped my hand. I could not quite explain it, but I really did like the necklace. But it was a poisonous present, used by Mistress to lure me into a false sense of security. The pendant had two faces. Just like Mistress, I reckon.

“Wonderful, as always, ladies,” Mistress complimented the maids with their handiwork. “Why, I suddenly have an urge to teach her a lesson or two.”

The three woman laughed, and I laughed along shyly.

Mistress asked me a couple of questions, and I answered appropriately, but they didn't register in my mind. I was preoccupied with my 'master plan': telling Mistress I would leave today.

“You look troubled, my dear,” Mistress suddenly said. “Is anything the matter?”

“Mistress?” I answered startled. “No, I'm fine. Everything is fine.”

She tilted her head a bit as she gazed upon me. “You sure, girl? I don't want my favourite guest to want for anything.”

I smiled, but I had to force it on my face. My knees started to get weak as she looked at me with interest. My heels seemed uncomfortably high. “Yes, Mistress.” I answered as I fiddled with the hem of my skirt. “I am fine, really. I just...” I fell silent.

“You just... What?”

“I just wanted... To tell you...” I stammered. I felt my fingers twitch, and I head inadvertently turned sideways, my eyes shooting towards Jeanne.

Tell her what exactly? Thank you Mistress, for tormenting me the last couple of days, to which I had no defence and was too weak to prevent, but now I had enough. I'm leaving and you cannot stop me! No, I have no idea where I'm going, but in my four inch heels I'm sure it will be no problem at all to get there. Yes, I know that just for saying this you'll probably sic your enforcers on me, who'll undoubtedly bind me and drag me off to the penalty box where you'll use a whip on me until I reconsider, but I assure you my mind is made up!

That was my plan? Just walk away? Really? What was I thinking? Mistress would never let me go. And if I insisted? Each of these women already had easily overpowered me...

Mistress was waiting for an answer. Her face showed impatience. I had to say something.

I gasped. “I just wanted to thank you for a very interesting couple of days. They were wonderful. Really. Thank you.” I bobbed a curtsey and made something that was supposed to be a smile.

Mistress raised her eyebrow in surprise. She turned to Jeanne and said something in French. The maid replied. Mistress nodded and turned back to me. She observed me carefully. “You are very welcome, my dear. It was my pleasure, for sure.”

She leaned forward in her chair. Her eyes looked straight at mine. “But we still have a few days left. And I intend to make the most of it. Oh Cheryl, you've seen nothing yet.” Her teeth were visible as she smiled, keeping her eyes fixed on me.

I swallowed hard. “Wonderful, Mistress. I cannot wait.” I said with whatever enthusiasm I could pretend to have.

She turned to Jeanne again. They exchanged some words, then the maid left the room. This greatly unsettled me.

Mistress leaned against the back of her chair. Her wicked smirk hid a secret, and I feared it involved me. “Patience, my dear. We will take it slow. First we'll have some foreplay, so to speak. Get you in the mood. Then, when you least expect it, I'll pounce you in a way you cannot imagine right now. I'll make you weep and cry and beg.”

I felt shivers down my spine.

“But we'll come to that later. First, we'll have a nice relaxing breakfast. Sit down my dear. Bernadette, would you be so kind as to serve us our meal? Thank you.”

I sat down at the table while the maid went to get our food. Mistress made some chit-chat, and I followed suit. I played the part of favourite niece again, and I did it diligently, but my heart was not into it. I couldn't stop thinking about Mistress' threat. Sure, she considered them harmless fun, but for me it sounded like she had something terrible planned.

I wasn't going to wait to find out what. Telling her I was going to leave proved ridiculous. So there was only one option left.

I needed to escape. Run away. And I needed to do it soon. I felt my hands tremble as I picked up a slice of toast. 


************


Apparently, it was not a coincidence I was dressed as a school girl. They really were teaching me a lesson.

I was sitting behind a small desk on which laid several books. One was an encyclopedia that was open on the page concerning the topic at hand. Another was a history book with very limited use, but which Bernadette had ensured contained some very interesting titbits.

I looked at the two sheets of paper in front of me, glancing at the title at the top of the page on the left. 'The history of the high heel' it read, written in my handwriting. The page was filled with facts about this piece of footwear. How they were invented for men, to prevent one's foot to get stuck in a stirrup. Another bit was how foppish and effete male courtiers at the court of Louise the Fourteenth wore wear high heels as they sought their patron's attention and favour.

Another fact was on the infamous stiletto heel, which was already known in the late 19th century, when fetish drawings of women in heels were distributed in every layer of society. Many of models for those drawings were men in drag.

And apparently the original go-go boots in the sixties had very modest heels, but steadily increased in height as they became popular with transvestites who used the heels to reinforce their feminine appearance. As a side effect did those early trannies experience how their new heels constrained them, which made them more submissive as a result.   

I had some doubts about these 'facts', but did not voice them. When Bernadette presented them in this little classroom, she seemed very insistent they were true and that every sissy should know them. I noted them all down to help me memorize. There would be a test later.

I looked at my other sheet, which was mostly empty aside from the title at the top. 'Sissies and high heels, a match made in heaven,' it said. Bernadette had selected the title for me, and I was supposed to write an appropriate essay.

I sighed in dismay. When I was still in high school I already hated writing essays, and back then at least I wore clothes that did not make me blush. I was holding a pen, but it just hovered above the paper as I didn't know what to write down. My mind was completely blank with a bad case of writer's block.

I looked up up from my work doubtfully. Across the room my tutor was sitting behind a large desk of polished oak, looking down at some papers like teachers all over the world seem to do while their students work on their appointed tasks. She had her brown hair tied back close against her skull and wrapped up into a bun at the back of her head. She no longer wore her uniform, but a comfortable semi-formal outfit consisting of a blouse, jacket and pants that fell loosely around the legs.

She adjusted her glasses as she read her notes. I didn't even know she had glasses. I had not seen her wear them once all week, even though I had seen her reading before. Her crop lay across her desk. She hadn't spanked me with it, but it was not for show. She had struck it hard across my desk when she thought I was not paying enough attention. Just barely missing my hands, the force of the strike broke a pencil in two. After that I certainly hung on her every word.

She seemed to know I was watching her. Her head shot up and her eyes caught mine. “Is there a problem, young lady?”

Startled, I answered. “I... Er... No, Miss Bernadette. Everything is fine.”

“Really? Very good. In that case you should have trouble reading to the class what you've written.”

“Reading? But I... Er...” I looked at my sheet, completely empty save for its title. “It is... Not yet done, Miss Bernadette.”

“That is alright, my dear. Just read out loud what you've got so far. Perhaps the rest of the class can give you some constructive criticisms. 

The rest of the class? I glanced sideways in confusion. Aside from me and Bernadette, the room was completely empty.  What class? I was the class!

I looked back towards Bernadette. If it was a joke, she wasn't laughing. Her frown betrayed impatience. I saw her holding her crop again.

“Er... I haven't written... Er... Much... Miss Bernadette,” I stammered.

“No problem, just let us hear it. Hurry now, girl. Don't keep the class waiting,” she urged me.

I put my pen down, and felt my hands shake as I took hold of the sheet that was completely void of any essays. I felt Miss Bernadette eyes on me as I looked at the mostly blank piece of paper.

“Sissies and high heels. A match made in heaven,” I read out loud. And with that I came to the end of my writing. “By sissy Cheryl,” I added on the spur of the moment. Then I stopped, looking up hesitantly to my teacher

Bernadette gestured me to continue. I looked down to the empty page. “Er... Why are high heels and sissy a match made in heaven?” I improvised. “Because they... because... er... high heels are... pretty? ...And sissies like being pretty. So... it is obviously... er... a match... made?  …in heaven?”

Then I fell silent. I had nothing else I could think of. I looked up to Bernadette, who had raised her eyebrow in an expression halfway between annoyance and suppressed hilarity.

“Hold up your paper, Cheryl. Show me what you've written down,” she said with a stern tone.

I held up the sheet. Bernadette adjusted her glasses again and looked at the paper, where she could clearly see that there was no essay whatsoever.

She snorted, then got up from her chair. “Young lady, are you telling me that after twenty minutes you haven't written down a single word of this essay? A simple five-hundred words exercise that any proper sissy can finish within an hour?”

She crossed her arms in front of her, one hand holding her crop. She glared at me. “Well? Is that correct, Cheryl?”

I looked remorsefully at the empty sheet before me. “Yes, Miss Bernadette,” I half-whispered, half-muttered.

She walked around her desk. “Get up, girl.”

I did, and looked meekly down in front of me, my hands folded before my skirt.

“This type of laziness is intolerable, young lady!” She snapped at me, making me wince. “Get over here. In front of my desk.”

Reluctantly, I minced towards Bernadette. She pointed to a spot about a foot in front of the desk. I didn't look at her as I took my position, keeping my eyes down remorsefully. I put my feet close together, heels, ankles and knees touching.

“What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?” Bernadette asked me with a grave tone of voice.

“I... I was...” I stammered, feeling tears form in my eyes. I sighed in resignation. “...Nothing, Miss Bernadette....” I wobbled unsteadily on my heels. “I'm sorry... Very sorry,” I finally added with a sob.

From the edge of my vision, I saw Bernadette nod. “Bend forward, girl,” she said.

I did, slowly. I knew what was coming, but I tried to delay the inevitable as long as possible.

“Drop your panties,” She said.

That was new. Confused, I hesitated a bit too long.

Bernadette slammed her desk with the crop. I felt the shock wave pass through me. “Drop your panties, girl. Now!” She practically shouted at me. I shuddered from fright.

I reached down to my panties, and pulled them down. I heard myself sob from the indignity. The gaff still covered my sissy-clitty, but I felt naked nonetheless.

“That is far enough girl,” Bernadette said when my panties rested above my knees. “Raise your skirt.”

I took hold of the hem, and pulled it up. I shivered in my heels as I exposed my behind.

Bernadette put the tip of her crop against my behind. “Repeat after me: I'm a good sissy...”

My legs felt like wax. “I'm a good sissy...”

I hear the strike before I even felt it. Pain shot up from my behind. “Gah!” I cried.

“I will not be lazy.”

“...I will not be lazy... Ah!”

“I will always be diligent,” Bernadette said, which I repeated. I squealed as she struck me a third time.

She spoke the next sentence, and I echoed it. “...And learn everything I can to be a proper sissy... Ugh!”

I felt myself breathe heavily. I repeated the final part. “...Or I will sorely regret it... Gah!”

With the tip of her crop, Bernadette lowered my skirt. “Pull up your panties, girl. Get back to your desk.”

With tears in my eyes, I stumbled back towards my chair. I grunted as I sat down.

“No slouching, girl!” Bernadette called sternly. “Sit up straight. Legs together. Mind your posture.”

I snapped to attention and corrected myself. I suppressed a groan. My weight now fully rested on my tortured behind.

“You still have thirty-five minutes for your essay. Start writing, young lady,” Bernadette said as she walked back to her chair and sat down. “Better make the most of it.” She adjusted her glasses and picked up her notes without giving me a second thought.

My pen was scribbling words on the paper before my mind had even caught up. My eyes frantically shot towards my lecture notes for facts I could use in my essay.

Whether it was fright or genuine inspiration I do not know, but a stream of words flowed from my pen onto the paper.

...But it is not just the fact that high heels change a sissies stance, making it more feminine. Nor is it simply because they hobble a sissy to impractically short steps that make them feel weak and vulnerable.
While women have embraced the high heel as a form of empowerment, men have long since rejected high heels, recognizing their impracticality and as a liability to their intrinsic strength. By wearing high heels again, a sissy on a deeper level abandons her claims on manhood and any strength she might have....

I wrote like my life depended on it. And in a way, it did. I kept looking at the simple clock above the door, and saw it count down as I wrote. Thirty minutes. Twenty. Ten five. Sixty seconds. Ten. Five, four, three, two, one...

Bernadette checked her own watch. “Time's up. Pens down, everyone.”

I laid my pen on my desk, and looked at the paper sheet. I was completely filled now.

And it was a total mess. Hastily written words, additions and last minute corrections covered the page. The final paragraph wasn't even finished, the words stopping halfway in a sentence.

“Hand in your essay, girl.” She tapped her desk, without even looking up. “Right here.”

I suppressed a groan as I got up from my chair, and minced towards my tutor's desk.

Bernadette turned her head towards me as I approached. Her face was stern, all business like. But I couldn't help feeling that she was very much enjoyed her role. I carefully put my essay on her desk.

“Stay there,” she said as she picket up the paper. I froze in place as I waited her judgement. My legs and back were erect, as was proper, but my head hung  humbly.

She raised an eyebrow as she glanced over the essay, then picked up a red pen. She started making corrections.

My heart sank further and further with every stroke of the pen. Red ink spread over the sheet as Bernadette added her comments. I knew it wasn't good, but my teacher seemed to be tearing my efforts to tiny bits.

The tall maid put the pen down, readjusted her glasses and folded her hands before her face. She looked at me with an expression that she was of two minds about my writing.

“It's... reasonable,” she finally said.

I couldn't suppress a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Miss Bernadette.”

“Silence, young lady. That was not a compliment. Your penmanship is horrendous. I've found spelling errors that would embarrass a preschooler. Your conclusion is unfinished, your arguments are weak and I have a sneaking suspicion you do not truly believe your own premise.”

Her premise, I thought spitefully, but I only uttered a half-hearted apology.

She tapped her fingers on the paper while she looked at me. “Still... It shows promise. With some corrections, it can even be half-decent. And considering your laziness just half an hour ago, that is not bad.”

She gave me a warm smile. It actually felt encouraging. “Better than I had anticipated, actually. You are making progress.”

I wanted to say 'thank you', but she might shush me again. I simply answered her smile with my own.

“Despite its flaws, you did your best. You are not a very bright sissy, and it shows, but it came from the heart. That deserves praise.” She opened the drawer of her desk.

It was a silly essay for and even sillier task, but I honestly felt proud of myself. I beamed as Bernadette took out a sticker.

She smiled at me as she put the sticker on my essay. “There you go, my dear. One gold star.” She handed me my essay with a wink.

I looked at the piece of paper with the sticker. A gold star... The last time I had received one of those I was still in kindergarten. And I actually felt proud of it! This was insane.

“When class is over, we'll take your corrected essay to your Mistress, where you will read it to her.” Her smile almost changed into a smirk, but she corrected herself. “I'm sure she'll be extremely pleased to hear you present your work.”

I gasped. My heart started to pound. I had to read this degrading leaflet of nonsense to Mistress? My lips parted in a surprised expression. I squealed, elated. Now I could show her what a good and diligent girl I was. Giddy with excitement I fidgeted while attempting to properly stand to attention. I tried not to acknowledge the utter dread at the back of my mind.

Bernadette looked at me pleased, but her content smile had nothing to do with my essay. She adjusted her glasses again, a curiously comforting action. “And as a further incentive, I have a treat for you as well.”

“A treat, Miss Bernadette?” I asked while my hands waved in excited surprise, shifting my weight to one leg while bending one knee.

“Oh yes. A sweet sissy deserves a sweet. I have a lollipop for you.” She held it up for me to see.

I looked at it with wide open eyes. Then I squealed in delight. What can I say? I was glad it was a real lollipop. Sure, it was long and phallic so there was not that much difference with what they usually put in my mouth, but at least this one looked like it would taste like strawberries.

“Here girl, take it. You deserve it,” she said as she handed me the lollipop.

 I smiled as I took hold of the wooden stick and bobbed automatically bobbed a thankful curtsey. “Thank you, Miss Bernadette.”

“You are welcome, my dear. Go on, have a taste.” She was smiling, but her eyes hardened. “Put it in your mouth.”

I did. Not just because she told me to, but because I really wanted to. I placed my lips around the tip of the lollipop, feeling she sticky sugars on its surface. I slid the long and hard piece of candy deeper into my mouth. My tongue reached its underside, and tasted its. I cooed in delight. Strawberries!

Bernadette watched me as I unconsciously made the motions I had been taught, moaning as sweet strawberry flavour filled my mouth. I kept tension on my lips as I slid the slick lollipop in and out of my mouth. My tongue gently tickled the piece of candy, resisting the temptation to made long wet licks along its surface.

“You enjoy it?” The tall maid asked me.

I took the lollipop out of my mouth, I should not talk with my mouth full after all, but rested the wet tip against my lower lip. “Yes, Miss Bernadette,” I answered, then slid the lollipop deep into my mouth.

“Show us how much you enjoy it,” Bernadette said. “Go on, girl.”

I turned a bit to give my teacher a good view of what I was doing.

She chuckled as she shook her head. “Not to me, young lady” She gestured behind me. “To the classroom. Turn around. Show your classmates how happy you are sucking your long and hard lollipop.”

Confused, I turned around. I saw the empty room before me, with the small desk at its centre and the empty chair behind it.

Some class, a defiant part of my mind snarked. I heard Miss Bernadette get out of her chair.

I went through the motions of showing the empty classroom how much I enjoyed myself, the realization of the utter silliness of the situation growing in my mind.

Bernadette walked up behind me. “Don't turn around, girl. Keep your eyes on your classmates.”

I couldn't suppress a snigger. What classmates? I thought.

That little act of insolence could have earned me a cuff around the ears, but Bernadette ignored it. She just leaned over me, her mouth close to my ear as I kept my eyes on the empty room while I slid my lollipop in and out of my mouth.

“Imagine...” Bernadette whispered. “Imagine your old classroom. You are back in high school. You are standing in front of your old class, and you see all your classmates sitting behind their desks.”

I nodded obediently, but felt silly. I only saw the empty desk before me.

Then I thought about Miss Richards’ English class, when the old hag had called me in front of the class...

“You are standing before the whole class. Row after row of filled benches. You see them, and they see you...”

Memories flooded my mind. Pictures of that horrible moment began to overlay the empty room before me. I saw figures before me. Some were as clear as day, others were half glimpsed shadows as the years had eroded my memory of them. But I recognized every single one, and they recognized me.

“They are all there. Your old friends...”

I saw Robby Taylor, my best friend until we graduated and lost track of one another.   

“The bullies that picked on you...”

There was Mike Cavanaugh, who would rob me of my lunch money and beat me up if he thought he could get away with it. Last I heard of him he was living in a gutter somewhere, but here he was with that angry and hateful smirk of his.

“The popular girls that laughed at you...”

Melissa Brown was smiling at me. No, she was laughing. I had tried to ask her out once, and she just laughed. Since then she always laughed when she saw me.
 
“They all see you,” Bernadette whispered in my ear. “You are standing before them, wearing a cute dress and heels. Sucking a lollipop. Showing them what a pretty little sissy you are...”

I felt my heart rate increase and I was sure I was turning pale. A feeling of humiliation washed over me like a tidal wave. 

The room was empty. The room was filled. Filled with my classmates as they looked at me with shock. They couldn't believe what they were seeing.

The real incident was not that bad, actually. Yes, I screwed up, and the class laughed, but it was more of an amused chuckle really. Most just wanted for the bell to ring and get out of that stuffy room. Kevin was busy drawing one of his comics, while Cindy and Kelly were exchanging notes on who was awesome and who was not. Leo was even busy with tomorrow's assignments.

But now everyone was looking at me. Their shock turned to mirth, and mirth to hilarity as my imagination took over. My eyes shifted from one classmate to another as I sucked on my lollipop and posed in my outfit. Each one laughed at me.

Robby laughed at the sissy frolicking before the class, wondering how he could ever been friends with him. Her. He certainly could no longer be friends with someone like that.

Mike laughed at me hatefully, unsure whether he should beat up or fuck the little faggot afterwards.

Melissa laughed, clapping her hands and shouting cat-calls, highly amused and secretly relieved there was an even bigger slut at this school.

Kevin laughed and drew another comic, one about a pathetic sissy heroine that loves sucking cock which would soon be popular all over school.

I felt tears run down my face as my humiliation and horror overcame me. I felt unsteady in my heels and Bernadette supported me with her arm to keep me upright. I did not stop posing and sucking though.

“That is enough, young lady,” my teacher finally said. “You can get back to your seat.”

Halfway between mincing and stumbling I moved back to my desk. My classmates disappeared as I passed their rows, but their laughter remained, merging together into an ethereal roar.

I came to my desk, but discovered that my seat was already taken. The young man sitting there was slightly older than his classmates. I did not know who he was, but I recognized his face. I had seen it in the mirror only three weeks ago.

Charles looked at me as he smiled amused but shook his head in disappointment. How could you have done this, he seemed to say.

It's not my fault, I wanted to shout, but the chair was empty. So was the room. The laughter, my classmates, they were all gone. They were never there. But my dismay most certainly was and it was very real.

“Sit down, young lady,” Miss Bernadette said behind me. “Quickly now. You still need to correct your essay and prepare for your test.” 

I took my lollipop out of my mouth. “Yes, Miss Bernadette.” I put it back in and  daintily took my seat at my desk.


*****************


“... And that is why I think sissies and high heels are a match made in heaven,” I said, reading from corrected essay. “And I should know, because I'm a little sissy and adore my high heels. I cannot imagine me wearing anything else ever again. Unless my Mistress wants me to, of course. The end.”

I lowered the paper, bobbed a respectful curtsey and looked up shyly towards Mistress.

I was still holding my lollipop in one hand. It wasn't quite finished yet, but after much sucking it was very small now. Almost as small as my clitty, Bernadette had remarked earlier.

Mistress looked at me intently. She seemed to have been listening with much fascination, but I saw the grin that betrayed that her interest in me had little to do with the contents of my essay.

She clapped her hands. “Well done, young lady. That was a nice presentation. Admittedly, your reasoning and argumentation are weak, but your enthusiasm on the subject is infectious.” She smiled wickedly “It is very nice when a girl actually gets excited for once about the subject-matter she needs to learn.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” I said gratefully as I bobbed another curtsey. She sat on a comfortable chair next to Bernadette's desk in our classroom. She was dressed like a school's headmistress, but with a twist. She wore a simple white blouse under a semi-formal black woollen jacket that accentuated her shape nicely. Her skirt however, was matt black leather in a very tight cut that hugged her thighs. I tried to ignore the bulge in front of her that suggested she was wearing something else beneath it.

Her legs were clad in stockings and ended inside shiny black ankle boots with three inch heels. Her hair was tied behind her scalp into a bun, but it looked more fancy than Bernadette's.

“You may finish your lollipop, my dear,” she said as she turned to Miss Bernadette who was sitting behind her desk. “Did you give her your test already?”

“I did Ma'am.” Bernadette answered with a smirk, without taking her eyes of me. “She passed it, but only by the narrowest of margins.”

“Oh dear,” Mistress said as she glared at me. I focused on sucking my lollipop as I tried to avoid her gaze. “That will not do. Not do at all. Do you know what the problem was?”

Bernadette chuckled. “It's like you said, Ma'am, she's an eager learner, but  none too bright. She studied hard, but it would just not sink in. I spent twenty minutes explaining the various types of heels, but the girl still got them wrong.”

I was standing four feet away while my teacher called me stupid. That hurt, and made me feel horrible. I consoled myself with the sweet taste of the lollipop.

“Oh Bernadette, you are being overly harsh,” Mistress said soothingly. “The girl just lags a bit behind with her education. She is rather new at this, after all. You know what, I'll give your pupil a couple of private lessons. I'm sure her grades will go up immediately.”

My eyes quickly glanced in her direction? Grades? What grades?

“Excellent idea, Ma'am,” my teacher said. “Will you start immediately?”

“I will. May I make use your classroom, please? Have some privacy for little Cheryl and me while I tutor her?”

“Of course, Ma'am. Take all the time you need,” Bernadette said as she picked up her notes and got out of her chair. “May I suggest using the crop, Ma'am? She seems much eager to learn after a good spanking.”

Mistress sniggered. “Oh Bernadette, you are so stern. No, I will not going to spank her. You've used the stick, now I will use the carrot.”

That reassured me somewhat. My behind was still sore of my previous lashing.

“As you wish, Ma'am. Good luck,” the tall maid said as she walked towards the door. “Look alive, Cheryl! I do not want to hear about any laziness afterwards. Understood?”

I took the lollipop out of my mouth. “Yes, Miss Bernadette.” 

When Bernadette was gone, Mistress got out of her chair and walked up to me. She looked me in the eyes.

“Cheryl, I'm not wasting my time with you, am I?” She asked in a grave tone. “Will you do your utmost to help me help you improve your grades?”

I took the lollipop out of my mouth. With a mixture of sincerity and exaggerated theatrics I answered. “Of course, Mistress.  I want to be a perfect little sissy and I will do whatever it takes to improve myself and my grades.”

I didn't know if those 'grades' were real or just part of this elaborate bit of role-play, but I was not in any position to risk it.

Mistress smiled wickedly. “I'm very glad to hear that.”

She put her hand behind my head and took hold of my hair. She pushed me down onto my knees, then titled my head backwards.

“Open your mouth, young lady.”

“Mistress?” I stammered aghast. “How... How is this supposed to teach me anything?”

Mistress smirked as she raised her tight skirt and revealed the strapon in front of my face. “I didn't say anything about 'teaching' you. I promised to help you raise your grades. If you are good to me now, I am sure something can be arranged.”

“But...” I tried.

“Hush now, sissy. No taking with your mouth full,” she said as she pulled my head forward. I grunted as the penetrator touched my lips and forced its way inside.

After tasting sweet strawberries for a while, the strapon tasted vile, rubbery and chemical. But my incessant training took over and I slid my lips up and down the dildo while my tongue teased it.

Mistress kept pressure at the back of my head while I worked, cooing and moaning, occasionally glancing upward with a delighted smile to show her how much I enjoyed myself.

She kept the strapon in my mouth for some time, long after I got is properly wet and slick, but finally she released my head and got me up. I sucked on my lollipop to expel the vile flavour of the strapon.

“Put your hands on the desk, girl, and bend forward,” Mistress ordered me. “Let's raise those grades of yours.” She took up position behind me.

I cooed inadvertently as she pulled down my panties down to my ankles, which made her snigger. I groaned as she pulled out the plug. I sighed surprised but secretly thankful when she pulled down the gaff as well.

“Let's surprise Bernadette with your sudden remarkable improvements, shall we?” She said.

“But Mistress,” I protested, ”this does not teach me anything! If Bernadette would ask me again which high heels are which, I still wouldn't be able to answer.”

Mistress paused, but her strapon rested precariously against my sissy-hole. “You know, that is actually a good point. We cannot let Bernadette think that I cheated.”

She reached around me and picked up a book on the desk. 'Female footwear fashions' the title read. She placed it open before me opened, and I saw pictures and descriptions of heels of every shape and size within its pages.

I turned my head in confusion, but Mistress turned my head back towards its pages. “Start studying,” she simply said. 

Mistress unbuttoned my blouse and pulled down my bra. I felt her hands over my exposed breasts, then one reached down under my skirt at the front, touching my clitty.

I gasped as I looked down and began to read.

...a 'kitten heel' is a short, slender heel, usually from 1.5 inches to 1.75 inches high with a slight curve setting the heel in from the edge of the shoe. The style was popularized...

Mistress moved slowly, increasing pressure until my little hole began to widen. I grunted but kept on reading.

...formal fashion attire for young adolescent teenage girls...

I moaned when she finally entered me. “Suck on your lollipop, girl. But don't stop reading,” Mistress said, as she began to pull back.

...became fashionable for older teenagers and eventually for women of all ages...

Despite my lollipop I squealed as she pushed into me again, faster and deeper.

“You know,” she said with an amused chuckle, “I haven't fucked a school girl since I was one myself.”


*****************


I was wandering down the hallway, alone for once. Though it was rare for me to be unescorted, it happened occasionally during this second half of the week. Despite Mistress' own house rules, she and her maids clearly thought they had achieved total control over me and that I no longer required continuous oversight. I did not think they were wrong.

After Mistress was done giving me 'private lessons', Bernadette returned. But the maid ignored me and spoke with Mistress instead, who finally addressed me.

“Cheryl, it appears I'm needed elsewhere. I'm taking Bernadette with me, so I'm giving you the rest of the morning off. I expect to be back before lunch, so be in the dining hall at noon. Your current outfit is fine. Until then, go and relax. Do what you like. Have some fun.”

I had no idea where she was going. I wasn't even sure whether she was even gone. For all I knew she might just be in her private office again on the second floor.

As for me, my sudden time off was very confusing. After days of being told what to do or being manipulated into things I didn't like doing, 'do what you like' felt like an overwhelmingly complicated task. It was like I had just been kicked out of jail after serving a twenty year sentence. Congratulations, you are free. Enjoy. Now get lost.

I thought about going to the parlour, watch some TV that I could not understand. Or to the kitchen. Hopefully the chef would not notice me if I tried to get myself a drink. I even thought about going back to my room and sleep until lunch, but discarded that idea. I wasn't allowed to get undressed on my own, and lying down while in my outfit would ruffle it.

While my mind tried to figure out where to go next, I just followed my feet as muscle memory minced me down the mansion's corridors towards nowhere in particular.  When I passed a mirror I checked my appearance as I posed. Well, at least I looked adorable, for sure.

I twirled around to see if my skirt flared up properly. Halfway in my turn, I froze. I heard voices and approaching footsteps.

One voice was Jeanne's, who I hadn't seen since I was presented to Mistress at breakfast. I hear her low heels click on the marble with a relaxed rhythm as she moved towards me. She was talking with someone, whose footfall betrayed the person was wearing firm worker shoes. The individual replied to Jeanne's remark with a low voice that was hoarse of smoking too many cigarettes. A man.

My mouth went dry. I wasn't doing anything bad, but Jeanne seeing me here would draw her attention to me, something I could do without. And I certainly did not want to be seen by a man. A real man. Certainly not in my emasculated state. I barely survived the gardener's look of contempt.

As quietly as possible in my heels, I stepped aside into an alcove in the hallway, pushing my back against the wall next to the small window that overlooked at the yard, trying to disappear into the umbra surrounding it.

The two voices approached, and I held my breath as Jeanne and the man walked past the alcove.

His stained overall indicated he was a mechanic or other blue-collar worker. His black safety shoes were worn around its steel-capped toes. Slightly overweight and balding he didn't look out of the ordinary. The man was just a 'regular Joe'.

Yet my gaze followed him like he was an alien from another planet, or a brutal barbarian of some warrior tribe. His loose overall hid most of his features, but I could see his broad shoulders and strong arms that could easily snap my weak frame in two. He was one head taller than Jeanne, who was about my height.

He frightened me. This was so strange. Like I had never seen a man in my life before, I thought. Heck, I was one up to three weeks ago!

The two passed out of my field of vision without me being seen. I sighed in relief, but didn't move while I could hear them down the hall.

There was some more talking, and the two said something I assumed was goodbye. The man continued walking and the sound of his steps was lost further down the corridor. Jeanne hadn't moved.

“You can come out now, chèri. He is gone,” the maid called out.

I gasped in dismay, but obeyed instantly. I stepped out of the alcove and saw Jeanne standing further up. I bobbed a curtsey. “Yes, Miss Jeanne. I didn't realize you had seen me. I didn't want to disturb you.”

She sniggered as she walked up to me. “Oh, I'll bet, you shy girl. What are you doing here, all alone?”

I told her what Mistress had said to me.

“Is that so? And where are you going?” She asked. I muttered the first thing that came to mind. “The parlour? Very well, I'll escort you there. No, I insist, my dear. Turn around. Stand to attention. March.”

And with Jeanne a few steps behind me, I daintily minced towards the parlour. Guess I'd be watching television for a while.

As she marched me down the hallway, the maid was making some small-talk which didn't really register with me.

“Who was that man, Miss Jeanne?” I suddenly asked.

She was silent for a moment, surprised by my interruption. “Oh, just a workman, my dear. One of the motors broke down. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Motors? What motors?” I asked.

I heard her snigger behind me. “One of the electro motors in the penalty box, of course. Like the one that lifted your cage. Some of the furniture is powered, and after testing one this morning I could not get it to work.”

I could not help myself looking over my shoulder and give her a nervous glance. “I see...”

She continued with an amused tone. “Which is clearly unacceptable. Your Mistress wants to have the penalty box primed and ready for tonight's main event.”

I gulped. “...What's tonight's 'main event', Miss Jeanne?”

She laughed. “Well, you are, of course. You will be playing a game later today. And when you lose, she will put you inside the penalty box for a long time. No doubt she wants to try out all those huge powered toys on you.”

I began to feel queasy, and I stumbled in my heels before correcting myself.

“And if I win?” I asked weakly. I had already won several games, in fact. Each victory buying me an hour or two of rest. I had lost all games with higher stakes though, but they had been a close call.

“It will be your hardest challenge yet, and Ma'am is counting on you to fail miserably. Especially considering you will have to...” She chuckled. “Oh, but I shouldn't be telling you all this. Me and my big mouth. Almost spoiled the surprise, n'est-ce pas? You will see soon enough, chèri. Now, eyes front and no more questions.”

“Yes, Miss Jeanne.” I was silent while the maid continued talking, but my mind was racing. That nonsense with the classroom had distracted me, but now I remembered what a predicament I was in. Mistress had threatened me about tonight, and Jeanne had just confirmed it was not an idle threat.

I felt desperation, then anger. I smiled prettily as I minced down the corridor, but secretly I gritted my teeth as I steeled my heart.

No more delays. The moment I was alone, I would look for a way out of this madhouse.


*********************


Jeanne dropped me of at the parlour, where I thanked her properly for her escort. As I sat down in front of the television set she turned it on and was even considerate enough to select an appropriate channel for me. Smiling at me tauntingly, she put up some kid's show. I could only force a smile on my face and say 'thank you”.

She mentioned she'd come collect me just before noon for lunch, then finally left me alone. I carefully listened for her to footsteps to die down, until I was sure she was gone. I took a deep breath. Now or never, I thought.

I did the unthinkable. I took my heels of. I was silently thankful they had not been locked to my feet.

Holding my mary-janes in my left hand, I silently sneaked up to the parlour door, listened for any sounds, then opened the door and slipped onto the hallway.

My heart pounded as I crept along the corridor, the cold marble palpable through my socks. My ears alert for any sounds of my tormentors.

I shouldn't be doing this, I thought. I'll be in deep trouble if I got caught. But my fear of the penalty box was more powerful and drove me forward. As I found no sign of either Mistress or her maids, I got more bold and increased my pace. I had some time left until noon, but I'd better not waste it.

However, it was vexing I had no idea what to do or where to go next. Without a plan, I just headed towards the nearest exit.

Via a side door, I stepped outside. A chilly morning breeze made my skirt rustle. Alert for any signs of danger, I rounded the mansion towards the main entrance. I hid behind one of the granite pillars near the entrance. I could look along the driveway up to the main gate. It was a disheartening sight.

Even at this distance it was clear the main gate was a formidable barrier. It was closed, of course, and It's intricate ironwork left no room for me to squeeze through. Climbing over it was no option either, as wicked spikes lined the top of the gate. I also saw a camera keeping watch.

I turned my head and inspected the surrounding walls on either side of the main gate. The old stone wall was over ten feet high, and if that was not difficult enough, it had more recently been topped with barbed wire.

That was of no use, I thought. I looked around me to see if I was clear, then doubled back. I passed the door again and went around towards the other side of the mansion.

Another driveway ran from the mansion towards the edge of the estate. This was the back entrance, I realized. Here suppliers could drive up to the mansion and into its subterranean garage without having to pass the elaborate main gate and driveway, which was intended for more distinguished visitors. Like myself, I thought sullen.

Here the edge of the estate was closer, and I could clearly see the gate. More modern, less fancy, just as impenetrable. Hopeless, I thought.

The grim focus I had gathered for this escape attempt started to turn into despair. How could I possibly escape if I couldn't even get past the gate? And even if I could, then what? There were dozens of miles of forests and hills surrounding this estate. How was I supposed to cross that in a school uniform without decent walking shoes?

The answer presented itself below me. I heard metal creaking, and when I looked down, I saw the doors of the subterranean garage open. I heard a rumbling as an engine was started, and saw a small black van drive up the ramp onto the driveway. I caught a glimpse of the driver, and recognized the workman who I had seen earlier.

The van drove up to the gate, which opened automatically. As it passed I realized this was the only way out. I had to find a car. But how? The garage was in the basement, and I had never been there. It would take me forever to find it.

The garage doors creaked, and slowly closed again. I gasped. Stupid sissy! There is your chance. I rushed down the narrow concrete stairs to the garage door. It closed slowly, but my unavoidably girlish gait was slow as well.

I squealed as I skittered past the two doors just before they closed with a loud metallic clang, pulling on my skirt to make sure it would not get stuck between them.   

Breathing heavily, more likely due to my anxiety than my little sprint, I looked around me. Fluorescent tubes filled the dull grey garage with bright light. I checked my surroundings and saw several cars.

Two cars were most likely Mistress' property. One was a classic that wouldn't look out of place in an old gangster movie. The other was much newer, but looked expensive and comfortable.

There were other cars too, more common models. They looked like something the chef or the maids would own. I checked several door handles, but they were locked. I wasn't going to drive out of here in any one of these.

I stamped my feet out of frustration. What the heck did I expect? That a car was waiting for me, fuelled and ready to go? With the keys conveniently in the ignition? Why not hope for a built-in navigation device, programmed for the American consulate while I'm at it.

I reached for the handle of the basement door and turned it. It didn't open. I turned it again, pulling harder. There was some rattling of the lock, but the door didn't budge.

I turned pale. It was locked.

I squealed in dismay. I was trapped! I couldn't get out! If Jeanne didn't find me in the parlour before noon, she'd know something was wrong. They would come looking for me. They would find me and put me inside the penalty box to rot.

In despair I scampered around the garage, looking for another exit, or perhaps a key. There wasn't a manual override on the garage door. I saw a remote in one of the cars, but it was locked as well. So close, but so far away.

I had to escape, but now I really was in trouble. I started to cry. This was not fair!

I stood there sobbing, one hand still holding my heels while the other covered my tear stained eyes. I would have collapsed on the floor if that would not have messed up my outfit (incessant training certainly got my priorities straight).

I almost did not hear the clicking of the garage door as it unlocked itself.

Startled, I looked at the widening gap between the automatic doors. I hesitated for a moment, then scampered in fright behind one of Mistress' cars. Though I had little hope left, I was desperate not to get caught. I forced myself to stop sobbing. It didn't quite work, but at least I wasn't as audible.

I didn't dare to look past the hood of the car, but I could hear the rumbling of an engine beyond the garage doors. As they swung wide open, the vehicle drove down the ramp towards the garage.

It entered the subterranean level and drove past the car I was hiding behind. I could see its roof above the hood. It was a large white van, probably one of Mistress' suppliers.

The van stopped close to the locked door. I crept silently to the other side of the car, where I had some view on the exit.

I saw the front of the white van, which had some letters and a company logo on its side. I heard a car door slam shut, and a person stepped past the front of the van towards the exit.

It was a woman. She was wearing a dark blue company uniform and simple cap that couldn't hide her auburn hair that she had tied into a pony tail. She had a face typical of a ginger, with freckles on her pale cheek bones. I could see she was wearing some makeup, but it was the absolute minimum.

Her sturdy shoes thumped on the garage floor as she strode towards the door, one hand holding a set of keys.

My eyes went wide as the unlocked the door. She turned around towards the van, making me jump back behind my hiding place as she almost saw me.

I heard her open the van's rear door and take something out. I glimpsed around the car again, and saw her carrying a large box. She put it down next to the door and opened it. She looked at a piece of paper which I assumed was the package list, rummaging through the contents of the box to make sure everything that was on the list was actually being delivered. With a pen she checked a couple of boxes. When she was satisfied, she turned towards the door and passed through without closing it again.

I waited there for a minute, both to make sure the delivery woman was gone and because I couldn't believe my luck. She had left the door open; there was my exit out of this garage.    

I scampered for the door, all my despair forgotten. I bumped into the big box next to the door and looked if the coast was clear. It was, but surely the woman would be back for the box.

I was about to sprint through the door opening when I looked at the contents of the box.

It contained clothes. Nothing remarkable, which was very special in itself. No fancy bondage outfits, or girlish ensembles. Just simple clothes. I recognized some sports wear that I assumed was Mistress', a uniform in Bernadette's size, and a simple but sturdy clothes for a gardener's. A male gardener.

I took out the male clothes. There was an olive green jacket and pants in the same colour. There was also some simple white underwear. Even a pair of shoes!

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I was actually holding male clothes. If I put these on I would be a man again! If I wore these when I walked into the US consulate, no-one would bat an eye of think any less of me. Dressed like that I could perhaps just walk to the front gate and have someone open it without realizing who I really was.

I took out the complete outfit, holding it in my arms. Carefully I rearranged the remainder of the box contents so it did not look disturbed.

I hobbled over to the van. Unfortunately, the woman had taken her key with her so I wouldn't be able to start it.

Still, this was already more than I could have hoped for, so I hurriedly passed through the exit. This part of the basement was decorated just as lushly as the rest of the mansion, with marble floors, stone walls and low arches. The simple fluorescent lights seemed out of place. I caught a glimpse of a wine cellar as I hurried down the corridor towards a flight of stairs.

Voices came down from the stairs. Jeanne and another female voice. I heard them descend. Startled, I ran towards the nearest door on the corridor. Locked. I tried the opposite one.

I almost cried from relief. It was open, and I hurried through. Clenching the male clothes against me tightly, I silently closed the door behind me. 

The two women arrived in the basement, and I could hear them carrying something. Jeanne said something in French, and the other one (I assumed the delivery woman) replied. I listened as they passed me and disappeared into the garage.

I took my chance, and carefully opened the door and looked down the corridor, which was empty. Then I rushed towards the stairs, fearing an admonishing call of Jeanne behind me as I covered the last couple of yards.

Holding the outfit, I ran up the stairs (ran as a girl, I must admit). When I reached the ground floor, I paused for a moment as I tried to organize my thoughts. So I got male clothes. Now what?

My eyes caught a clock, and I saw the time on its face. It was already half past eleven. Jeanne would shortly come to collect me from the parlour, and I had to be there. I had to postpone my escape attempt until I had some time alone again.

I looked at the clothes in my hands. I couldn't take them with me to the parlour, where they would arouse suspicion. I decided to take them up to my room and hide them under my bed.

Making sure I did not inadvertently run into anyone else, I ascended the staircase further and hurried towards my room. Once there I stuffed my cargo in a big pile under my bed, where it was out of view. Well, mostly at least.

I checked myself in a mirror, and started fixing my outfit, which had become a bit dowdy, but nothing I couldn't quickly fix. With an emergency kit I touched up my makeup to hide any traces of my tears.

The soles of my socks however, were almost brown by now. I just hoped those spots would be hidden by my heels.

There wasn't a clock in my room, so I had no idea how much time I had left, so I had to leave now and get my cute ass to the parlour.

Still holding my heels, I scampered towards the stairs and down the ground floor.

There I got the scare of my life. I heard Jeanne. She was moving in a corridor parallel to mine, towards the parlour. I had to get there before her!

Throwing caution into the wind I quickly ran down my corridor. Well, relatively quickly. Even without heels I ran like a girl. I just couldn't help it.  

My heart raced as I turned the corner towards the parlour door. In my mind's eye I could already see Jeanne enter the corridor from the other side. She hadn't just yet, but I could hear her footsteps echo in my skull.

I reached the door, and a nervous hand fumbled with the door handle while my eyes were aimed at the other side of the hallway.

I pushed the door open and almost threw myself in just when Jeanne came into view. I stealthily closed the door behind me, then hurried to the television as the maid approached the door.

I sat down on the couch, making me grunt as I quickly put a lot of pressure on my plug. I sat in front of the TV, which was still playing. I put my heels on, fumbling with the straps and buckles. Jeanne turned the handle on the door.

I closed the last buckle and the door flew open. I straightened my back and sat upright properly, sissy like. She smiled when she saw me. “Enjoying your show,  chèri?”

I forced a smile on my face. “Yes, Miss Jeanne,” I lied. “It is lovely.”

“What is it about?” She asked me as she crossed the room.

“This? Well... It's about... Uhm...” Only now I watched the screen, where another children's show was being broadcast. I think I blushed.

“Er... I... Do not know. I don't understand the language,” I said unconvincingly, even though it was actually true.

She laughed. “Neither do the toddlers that usually watch this. But TV time is over. Let's get you ready for lunch. Your Mistress is already waiting for you. Up now girl.”

“Yes, Miss Jeanne,” I said as I obeyed. She checked my outfit and admonished me for a couple of dust stains, but nothing serious.

As she escorted me to the dining hall, I suppressed a deep sigh. I hadn't escaped, but at least I was better off now than I was before. I allowed myself to smile for real this time.


********************


Lunch was rather jovial. Mistress was nice to me, treating me like a teacher treats a favourite student. Apparently today's 'school girl' theme wasn't over yet. Between bites of her meal she lectured me on the blessings of femininity. I smiled and agreed with everything she said, but couldn't help perkily asking that if femininity is universal, why was I dressed as a school girl and she as a head mistress? She just smiled wickedly and answered that every girl has her own set of talents to express.

When Jeanne started cleaning up the table after lunch, Mistress changed topics.

“Care for a game, my dear?” She said smiling.

My heart skipped a beat, but I tried not to show the fright on my face. This was bad, I thought. I was not yet ready. I was hoping I would have some more time to escape, but if the game would already start now...

“What kind of game, Mistress?” I said non-committally.

“Hide-and-seek,” she said with a grin. “You hide somewhere inside the mansion, and I'll go looking for you. You have half an hour to hide before I'll start searching.”

“I see, Mistress...” I said with a awkward smile.

“You will have to remain hidden for two hours. After that time, you may leave your hiding place and reach the sanctuary, here in the dining hall. If you do, you win. However, you may want to hide for a while longer. Every hour you stay hidden beyond the original two hours, is an hour you will be free. So if I cannot find you for three hours, you'll have one hour off. Understood?”

“I think so, Mistress.”

“Good. If however I find you at any time, you lose and we're going to visit the penalty box for two hours.” She winked at me.

That was shorter than I had feared, but it still made me gasp. “...Yes, Mistress.”

“Very good. Are you ready girl?”

“Right now, Mistress?”

“Of course. Or do you have more questions?”

“I won't have to wear bondage?” I asked?

She tilted her head, eyes pointed at me like daggers. She smile revealed her fangs. “Why? Would you like to?”

I gasped. Me and my big mouth... “Er... Well... If my Mistress desires it, of course. But I'm not sure it will be suitable for this game...” I tried.

She sniggered and shook her head. “Oh, silly girl. Fortunately for you, I haven't brought any bonds with me right now. But I'm sure Jeanne can find a nice big gag for you when she returns from the kitchen. Perhaps you should start running before I can ask her.”

I got the hint. I excused myself and got up from the table, bobbing a curtsey.

“Half an hour, Cheryl. Use it... wisely,” she said with a smirk.

I minced quickly towards the door.


******************


After running around without heels for a while, I was reminded just how slowly one moves about in four inch stilettos. I minced down a hallway, looking for a good spot to hide. Most rooms were locked however.

My heels clicked annoyingly loudly on the marble floor as I tried to think of a good hiding place. The big closet in Danielle's dressing room perhaps. Or perhaps under my bed. Even the idea of hiding in the penalty box itself popped into my mind.

I reached the main staircase and was about to climb the stairs when Jeanne called to me.

“Cheryl! I'm glad to see you. Can you give me a hand with this?”

I turned around and saw her carrying a big cardboard box.

“Miss?” I asked confused. I was playing a game. I did not have time for this!

“Merde!” The maid said out loud as she put the box down. “That one is heavy. Can you help me carry it to the garage, my dear? I need to put it in a van, but I cannot carry it myself, I'm afraid.” She stretched her back.

It struck me like a thunderbolt. “A van...” I said.

“Yes, we are getting rid of some old stuff. A delivery van has arrived to pick it up, but will leave shortly and I haven't carried down all the boxes yet. I could really use your help.”

I couldn't disobey, but this wasn't really an order. More like a request. “Miss Jeanne, I am kind of busy myself. Mistress and I are playing a game...” I said remorsefully.

“Oh, of course. I forgot. Never mind, chèri. You continue with your little game. I'll just ask the driver to help. She should be around here somewhere.” Smiling she turned around towards one of the side doors. There was something disconcerting in her smile though, but I didn't know what.

But I was wasting time. Jeanne had just handed me the escape plan I needed. Get to the van, hide inside, and let myself be driven off the estate. And I even had male clothes for when I was outside.

I hurried up the stairs and towards my room. I got the clothes from under my bed and sorted them on my mattress. Then I began undressing myself.

Blouse, skirts, collar, heels and undies, everything came off. I ordered them neatly on the other side of the bed. Then came the nasty part. I took my gaff off, then pulled at my plug. I groaned softly as it came out.

I tried to remove my breasts, but I almost screamed when I pulled at them. Damned sensitive boobs! And the glue did not even loosen one bit. These would have to wait, I thought, highly annoyed.

Finally I took off the silver and pink necklace. Despite everything, I found it difficult to part with it. But I could not take it with me where I was going, nor could I justify running away from Mistress while taking her gift with me.

I put on the underwear and t-shirt, followed by the pants and jacket. They fit me like a tent. Was that gardener really that big? Fortunately, the pants came with a belt which I could tighten it with.

I checked myself in a mirror. The effect is not quite what I had hoped. I didn't look like a man at all. Not even a boy. I looked like a girl that had decided to put on daddy's clothes. The fact that my boobs pointed daintily forward didn't help.
I turned on the water tap and put my face underneath the flow. I rubbed my face to get rid of my makeup. At least I would look a bit more 'au naturel'.

I put the shoes on, which were several sizes too large, but at least I could lace them up tightly.

I looked at myself in the mirror again. I had crossed the point of no return now. If Mistress or her maids saw me like this, there would be hell to pay. I but I needed it to escape, and this was my only chance.

I headed towards the door, listened, then moved onto the hallway.


***************************


I managed to get to the ground floor without incident. Then after a quick sprint I reached the stairs to the basement. I heard movement coming from the garage, so very silently I crept down.

I was down in the hallway when I heard footsteps approaching the entrance to the garage. I quickly hid in the room where Mistress stored her wine. There wasn't a door, but I took cover behind a rack filled with dusty wine bottles. Through the door opening I saw Jeanne walk past, glancing inside the room. She seemed to be looking straight at me. My heart pounded silently and for a moment I was sure she had seen me. But she just kept walking down the corridor and I heard her climb the stairs.

I allowed myself to breathe deeply, trying to calm my nerves. I got up from my hiding place and sneaked to the garage.

There was no-one there. I looked at the van, of which the cargo doors were opened. Several boxes were stacked close by, ready to be loaded.

I checked the driver seat and the wheel, but there was no key. I would have to smuggle myself out of here.

I heard voices behind me. I recognized Jeanne and the female driver. They came down the stairs and walked towards the garage while the two women were discussion something.

This was it, I thought. No way back.

I scampered to the back of the van and climbed inside. There were more boxes in the cargo section, stacked almost randomly. I had to climb over several boxes to get as far out of sight as possible. I sat down behind one with my back against the front wall and pulled another box over me.

I sat there, breathing silently. The two women entered the garage. I heard them pick up another box and carry it to the back of the van.

I was terrified. I was sure they would discover me in here. I could not see them due to the intervening boxes, but I was sure they could easily see me hiding here. The tension was killing me. Part of me just wanted to give up. Jump up and show myself, get it over with. If I confessed my rebellious behaviour now, perhaps Mistress would be lenient.

But even if that was wise I would not have been able to. I was frozen in place as the two women put another box in the back of the van. They exchanged a few words. Jeanne said something to the other woman, who started to laugh. I silently begged them to go away. Then I heard a hard slam, and it became gloomy in my hiding place. Then the driver closed the other cargo door and it became dark.

Through the hull of the vehicle I could hear the two women talk a bit longer, then the door at the driver’s seat opened. The woman stepped inside and closed her door. The engine sputtered to life when she turned the keys in the ignition.

Then there was movement. I felt the van jerk forward, then turn around. The van drove up the ramp to the driveway, and stopped at the rear gate.

The gate clanged as the metal doors opened. The driver accelerated and drove the van off the estate.

My body shuddered as tension fell from my shoulders. I sighed. Gasped even, as if I had just surfaced from the depths of the ocean.


I had done it. I had escaped.



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