Friday, January 20, 2017

Swiss Miss Sissy, Chapter 32

by Bambi

Chapter 32: Daydreams and Nightmares. Cheryl experiences fevered dreams.


I don't really remember much after that. Sounds mostly. The sound of the crop as it cut through the air. Of leather hitting skin and fabric. The sound of a girl weeping, pleading. I remember her hitting the back of my left hand at least once. The burning I felt as she hit my tear-stained cheeks. And the agony I felt as she set my bottom, legs and back on fire.

At some point I was outside Madame Directrice's office, though I cannot remember how I got there. I felt an overwhelming urge to fix my makeup, like it was the most important thing in the world. I found my way to a bathroom, where I got my kit form my purse.  My hands were trembling uncontrollably and I just didn't dare look into the mirror, so I just put up some lipstick, though I probably screwed up that too.

I was walking around in a dazed dream, finding my way to the laundry room because I was certain I was expected to be there. I discovered that the laundry was still in the basket instead of the washer that I was sure should have finished by now. I felt devastated, completely at a loss what to do next. Mistress would be so disappointed and she would punish me. I broke down entirely. I just stood there, crying like a little girl.

Miss Martina found me there. I do not remember what she said, but I desperately tried to tell her that it wasn't my fault because someone must have stopped the washer and taken out the laundry and that I had broken Mistress' heart and I would fix it but the laundry wasn't in the washer since someone left it in the basket and I didn't want to keep any secrets because I wanted to fold the laundry but now I had to be discrete because I had promised but that wasn't good enough because the laundry wasn't in the washer...

My story was hardly audible though my sobs, not to mention barely coherent. I saw her face change from bemused, to baffled, to outright concerned. She put her arm around me and guided me back towards my room, trying her best to console me.

Back in my room she tried to sit me down on my bed, but I just shrieked in pain and continued babbling about folding laundry. She laid me down on my tummy and started removing most of my clothes, almost ripping the corset's laces to get the darn thing off me.

By the time she got me down to my undies my babbling had reduced further to a random collection of cries and sobs. She pulled the bed sheet over me and left the room. When she came back she was holding a glass of milky white liquid, which she brought to my lips and let me drink. It tasted mostly like ordinary tap water, but with a foul chemical after-taste. I muttered a protest, but Martina ignored it if she even understood me, keeping the glass on my lips and telling me to keep drinking. Not everything went in properly, as I felt droplets of water run down my chin, but I managed to empty the glass.

She must have given me a sleeping pill or a tranquillizer, because I felt the world turn heavy, then dark. The last thing I remember is hearing the tone of Martina's voice from the other side of the universe.

I dreamed. I dreamed of secrets and regret, promises and jealousy. But above all I dreamed of fire. I saw myself being consumed in flames, again and again.

I think I woke up a couple of times. I remember seeing Miss Martina again, holding another glass to my lips. I also saw Miss Ingrid. Her hands were over me, prodding and probing. She said something to me, but I her soft voice didn't seem to form any words. I saw her turn her head. She said something to a shadow in a corner, sounding angry. I couldn't see who she was talking to, but I heard a voice reply. Phlegmatic, cool. Must have been Madame Directrice.

I was doing the laundry. I was folding my undies and skirts and heels and hair, but then understood that was impossible, because they were still in the basket. I wanted to put them in the washer, but there were clothes everywhere, circling me. A pink maid's outfit forced itself around me, mocking me as it zipped me up. I tried to flee, but pink ankle boots had wrapped themselves around my feet, taking me where I didn't want to go as the heels clicked with every step.

“You promised,” said the corset as it tightened itself. I tried to scream as I was being cut in two, but my lollipop was in my mouth, silencing me. I wanted to grab it, take it out, but the gloves on my hands were at my side, wrists limp, hands prettily swinging with every step.

I was mincing towards a group of shadow. I cried that I didn't want to go there, but I was smothered my lollipop. “Why didn't I resist?” my voice said in soft, feminine tones. The shadows chuckled. Then laughed. They were immeasurably large, female in outline, vaguely familiar. They laughed at my discomfort, my humiliation.

My heels took me towards them, each click louder than the other. I saw a dark figure along my path. As I walked past it I caught a glimpse of a face. I cried for him to save me. Begged and pleaded, but heard only moans. He smiled mockingly as the shadows closed around him, and I knew I would never see him again.

“For love, Cheryl,” said Charles as he disappeared.


* * * * * * * *


I woke up. I fluttered my eyes as I tried to focus my blurred vision. The shadows didn't disappear completely. It was starting to get dark in the room. The afternoon sunlight had already given way to the reddish glow of the evening.

“Hello there, sleepy head,” said a figure on the side of my bed.

“Hello... Mistress?” I said with some surprise as I recognized her face.

“How are you feeling, Cheryl?” she asked with an empathic smile.

“I feel... fine? A bit sore... my bottom hurts...” I checked my arms and legs, and though they had felt like the skin had been ripped off, they didn't look all that bad. Just red stripes and some bruises. I saw that I was wearing my silk nightdress, even though I had no idea how I got it on.

“Esther had given you quite a beating, yesterday. You were very upset.”

My head started to clear, details of what had happened in Madame Directrice's office ordered themselves in my mind. “Yes, Mistress. Wait, did you say 'yesterday'?”

She nodded. “Martina had given you something to relax and sleep it off. You've been mostly asleep since the beginning of yesterday afternoon. And now it is almost bedtime.”

I gasped. “I'm sorry Mistress! I still have so much to do.” I slowly tried to rise from my supine position, the skin on my back seriously protesting. “I was supposed to be doing the laundry, and I...” She put a finger on my lips.

“Shush... it can wait.“ She smiled. Then her eyes grew serious. “Do you remember what happened yesterday?”

“I think so Mistress,” as my thoughts wandered to Madame Directrice and her crop. “She... Threw me on her desk... Madame Directrice I mean... And...” I winced.

She nodded. “I know. Esther informed me what had happened. She... went too far. I'm... Sorry.” She hesitated for a moment, as if the word was very difficult for her to say out loud. But her smile showed true remorse. That surprised me. It was the first real apology anyone ever said to me since I came here. It made me feel... good.

“It's okay Mistress. I had it coming...” I joked half-heartedly.

She gave a short chuckle, but didn't smile. “Esther told me why. About what you've discussed. You said DaniĆ«lle came to you that night, remember?”

I closed my eyes to avoid hers. “Yes Mistress,” I said as I felt regret growing.

“You told her about the marriage. And that she should leave if she didn't want to be here.” It was not a question.

“Yes Mistress,” I felt tears forming in my eyes. “I'm sorry Mistress. I tried to...” I wanted to spill my heart on what had happened that night, but I interrupted myself. Madame Directrice's lesson obviously had stuck. “It was not my place to tell her that, Mistress.”

“No, it was not.” She flashed me a stern look, but smiled afterwards.

“Cheryl?”

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Did DaniĆ«lle ask you to come with her?” she asked me, her eyes bored into mine.

“...Yes, Mistress.”

“Why?”

“Because...” I felt like trembling. “She wanted to save me. She said you would do things to me. You and Mistress Margot and the others. Things I don't want to...”

“Do you believe her?” Her face was an expressionless mask.

I closed my eyes, started to sob “...Yes...” I answered weakly.

“Then why didn't you?”

I opened my eyes, wiped the tears from them with the back of my hand. I wanted to look her in the eyes, but could not find the courage.

“Because I lo...” I took a deep breath, and said: “I didn't want to leave you...”

Her face grew soft. Gentle even. She reached out to the night table next to my bed, where there was another glass of the same liquid Martina had given me. She put her hand under my head and brought it to my lips.

“Here drink this. Makes you feel better, helps you sleep through the night. You've been through a lot.” Her eyes looked somewhere in the distance. “We all have. But tomorrow is a new day. We will start again fresh.” She gave me smile that was both loving and playful. “Would you like that, Cheryl?”

“Oh yes, Mistress.” I said as I swallowed the liquid.

“Tomorrow you'll feel like a million bucks. And then we'll have a great time. I promise.” 

“Thank you, Mistress” I said as I dozed off again. The last thing I remember is her holding her hand against my cheek. Her smile was affectionate, but her eyes betrayed something predatory.


* * * * * * *


I woke up the next morning at ten. I still felt sore, and very hungry, but remarkably vibrant.

“Good morning, sleepy-head,” said Martina as she entered my room seeing me sitting upright. “Good to see you are finally up. Ready for a new day?”

“Yes, Miss Martina.” I smiled.

“Very good. It is time you got back to your duties. They have been quite neglected the last couple of days, you lazy maid.”

My smile disappeared. It wasn't my fault I had been confined to bed for almost two days. Apparently, the recent events were already a distant memory and it was business as usual. “Yes Miss Martina. I'm very sorry. I will get right to them.”

“Oh no, you won’t,” she admonished. “First you need to eat something. Frau Seiler has already prepared a meal for you. No, you don't need to get dressed, just grab a gown and flats and follow me.”

Well, perhaps not quite business as usual. She took me to the kitchen where meal was already waiting for me. It was simple food and easy to digest, but nutritious and abundant. Martina made sure I ate my fill. “Finish your orange juice, Cheryl. No buts, young lady! You need your vitamins. Besides, they are good for your skin.”

Once Martina was satisfied I was quite satiated, she escorted my back to my room. Ingrid was waiting there.

“Good morning, Cheryl! Good to see you back on your feet. We will have you back in heels in no-time, I promise.” She smirked.

“But for now, let's get you cleaned up. I can smell your odour, and your hair's a mess. Why, you still have some old makeup on your face. That will not do at all. Strip!”

I hesitated for a moment, but Ingrid just raised an eyebrow as a warning. I quickly dropped the robe and nightdress. Ingrid stared at me for a moment, then grabbed my breasts, startling me.

“Hmm, these are still fine. The glue is still holding well. But I think we should try Margot's idea one of these days. I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you Cheryl?” She said as she stepped back. I blushed as I tried to form some confirmation, but Ingrid simply interrupted me.

“Panties too, Cheryl. Oh dear, is that hair I see? Tsk, tsk. You really need to maintain your appearance, girl. Or do you expect us to do if for you?”

“No Miss Ingrid,” I replied shyly.

“Why not? Wouldn't you like it if we'd give you a sponge bath? Or do your hair?” She glared at me.

“No, Miss Ingrid... I mean, yes... I mean... Oh...” I was lost for words.

“Oh hush, Ingrid. You are confusing the little sissy,” Martina said. “Let's get you to the shower, Cheryl. Here, take this.”

She gave me several bottles. “These two are for your hair. Wash with this one, rinse, and then use the other. This one will make your skin smell like lavender. Here's something to clean your face.” She held out a razor. “This is for all the hair below your eyebrows. You know what to do with it, no?”

I stammered an acknowledgement. “Very good. Let's get you to the shower then. Hurry, girl.”

They escorted me to the nearest bathroom, standing on both sides of me, holding my elbows. If the sight of a naked sissy in between them, holding a collection of feminine products was in any way amusing to them, they gave no sign.

“Oh hello, Ester. How are you this morning?” Martina said as we passed a corner. Madame Directrice was standing there. She gave a short acknowledgement of the greeting, but her eyes were only pointed at me. Her gaze followed me as we walked past, and I suddenly felt very self-conscious in my nakedness.

“She looks angry, Miss Martina,” I asked shyly. “Is she angry with... me?”

“Oh, don't you mind her. She is just annoyed at the rebuke she got from Mutter for disciplining you. Ester takes her work very seriously, and doesn't like to be second guessed. You better stay away from her for a while, Cheryl.”

I shuddered. If Madame Directrice blamed me for Mistress' censure, she could make my life very difficult. Well, even more difficult. How was I to avoid her? I mean, she even managed part of my training.

We reached the bathroom, but the women didn't let go of me until I was inside the shower cabin. “We'll be back in about half an hour, Cheryl. So take your time and don't miss anything, because I'll check,” Miss Ingrid said as they both walked out.

I turned on the shower, and left hot water flow over me. It felt heavenly. I allowed myself a moment to feel how the warm droplets fell to my skin and ran down my body. I felt like everything that had happened since I came here was washed away. I felt renewed, like I would start over. I could have remained like that forever, but then grabbed the first bottle and got to work.

By the time I had triple-checked for any sign of body hair, Martina and Ingrid entered the bathroom, one holding two towels, another a robe. “Hmm, love that smell of lavender. Don't you agree Cheryl?” Martina said as she dried my body with one towel, than wrapped the other one around and over my moist hair. 

True to her word, Ingrid checked my body meticulously for any stray hairs, removing a few with tweezers. After she was satisfied, she gave me a playful slap on the still somewhat sore butt, causing me to give a short yelp she found rather amusing. She held out the robe and helped me into it.

They escorted me back to my room where they had already laid out my outfit for the afternoon.

First they sat me down in a chair in from of my vanity mirror and went to work, Martina applying my makeup (even though I have become quite adept at applying it myself; Ingrid even once called me 'a natural'). Ingrid simultaneously started to work on my hair, first using a blow dryer and then grabbing tresses of hair which she wrapped around and around, occasionally fixing it in place with a pin, until a complex pattern emerged. Though it wasn't as elaborate (or silly!) as the lacquered hairdo's I've had most of the time, it was still very impressive what Ingrid managed with just a few pins and a lot of skill. By the time she was content with her work, I had something resembling a subtle beehive, edged by braids and loose locks of hair falling over my ears and temples. As she worked, I actually felt pretty relaxed. Though she pulled the braids tightly against my skull, it wasn't nearly as bad as when she uses her curlers on me. 

By the time Ingrid helped me out of the chair, Martina was long since done with my makeup (which was the usual combination of an abundance of bright red lipstick, several layers of foundation and face powder, elaborate blush, dark eyeliner and mascara and other whorish colours) and had finished selecting the rest of my outfit.

She handed me the first items and I got dressed, starting with a black satin bra and matching panties. The panties were crotchless, which by now wasn't unexpected. Ingrid took hold of my little clitty and sissy-bells and moved them through the hole in the front.

“No, you may not!” She snapped at my question. “Everyone knows sissies cannot be trusted with holding their own clitty. Before you know it, they will start to play with it and forget all about their duties. Good heavens, they might get it in their empty little heads that their clitties belong to them instead of their Mistress! Would you like that, Cheryl? No? Good, then hands behind your back and be quiet. I'm almost done.” She tried to sound angry, but was obviously holding back a wholehearted laugh. I just felt utterly humiliated as she manhandled my privates. 

I was dismayed to see the next item was an underbust corset. If I had dared to hope I would be spared these monstrosities at least for today, I was sorely mistaken. Martina apparently knew what I was thinking.

“We are being very lenient with you today, Cheryl. But that doesn't mean we are going to be lax with your training. You know what they say, spare the corset, spoil the sissy!” She laughed. “Oh come now Cheryl, no sulking. Come, tell me how nice this corset is and how much you would like to wear it.”

“Yes, Miss Martina.” I forced a smile on my face. “Miss Martina, that is a very pretty corset. I would look so pretty in it. Like a real sissy. May I please wear it?” I had become quite good at telling what they wanted to hear.

I managed to speak the words, without bursting into sulks or sobs. It didn't help that Ingrid was chuckling behind my back.

“My, my, Martina. That is the nicest way I ever heard a pathetic little sissy ask to be tied in a corset.” Ingrid said. “You know, I think the sissy really means it. You better lace her in, Martina. I fear she may start to cry otherwise.”

Both ladies gave a hearty laugh as Martina wrapped the corset around me and closed the busk at the front. She then tightened the laces at the back. I felt the pressure, for sure, but it was not nearly as tight as what I came to expect from Brigitt. I guess they really were lenient with me.

The corset had straps, which I had to fix to the top of the black stockings Ingrid had me put on.

Next were the shoes. Martina sat me down on my bed and took out two shiny patent leather shoes with ankle straps and four inch heels, which was the standard height for an afternoon outfit. Martina took hold of my ankle and slipped one of the shoes around my foot, then wrapped the strap around my ankle and closed the little buckle. She repeated the process with my other foot.

Martina took me by the hand and helped me up. Apparently, two days of bed rest had completely messed up my habituation to heels. I felt I was walking on stilts, and my balance seemed completely off. Martina held my hand as I regained my balance, letting me make a few tentative steps. The two women then had me walk up and down the room a few times, unassisted, until muscle memory kicked in.

“Told you we'd have you back in heels in no-time,” Ingrid smirked.

Next was the black satin maid's outfit. I had a very short flaring skirt and petticoats, with a low and wide decollete and puffy sleeves at the shoulders. It came with an apron that Ingrid tied at the back with an elaborate bow, but at the front was so small it was useless as something to prevent stains on the uniform. The outfit was just a fetish item, something to make me look like a sexy and very feminine French maid. And I knew it. And from the smirks on Ingrid and Martina's faces, that was exactly what my two tormentors wanted to accomplish.

Still, it wasn't all bad. The skirt was very loose around the thighs, one of the few afternoon outfits that was, so I could make larger steps than the silly minces my tight skirts usually forced on me.

“Mind your steps, Cheryl,” Martina admonished. “We wanted to give you a bit more leeway while you get reaccustomed to your heels, but do not see that as an excuse for an improper gait. A sissy walks in small, dainty steps, never forget that.”

I had to put on two gloves that came up to my elbows, and had elaborate white frills at the wrists in the shape of flowers. Ingrid surprised me as she came up behind me and wrapped a fabric choker around my neck, covering up that hint of an Adam's apple I had with black satin and more white lacy flowers. Martina finished the outfit by pinning a black maid's cap and white frills to my hair.

I was abundantly sprayed with very feminine perfume, which smelled like subtle lavender and not-so-subtle roses. The two ladies stepped back and observed their handiwork.

They turned to each other and exchanged a few words in French, then chuckled. I knew that Swiss-German was their native tongue, but they often switched to other languages when talking to one another when I was present. I was bad at French and Italian, horrible at German and even worse in Swiss-German, but you cannot live for weeks in a foreign household without picking up a few words you can understand. Unless the people there regularly change their language to confuse you, that is.

The ladies laughed. “Cheryl, could you do a curtsy, please? Hmm... Again.” Ingrid gave me a questionable look. “That is not very good, Cheryl. By now I came to expect better from you... Oh, hold on.” She slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand, but grinned widely. “Oh, how silly of us. Martina, we have forgotten something.”

I think I turned pale. I knew one item was missing, but silently hoped they wouldn't notice. I even tried not to think about it myself as I was sure that they could read it from my face.

“Really Ingrid? What would that be?” Martina replied in mock ignorance.

“A nice big butt plug, silly! How can we expect little Cheryl here to perform a decent curtsy if she doesn't feel like being taken from behind by some big man when she moves her cute little ass.”

“O golly, Ingrid, you are right.” She could no longer hold back her laughter.
“You wait right there, Cheryl. I got just the thing.” She walked over to the dresser and took out a big black penetrator.

I felt my heart sink. It wasn't any bigger than the ones I'd worn previously, but somehow it seemed huge. I thought back to this morning's shower. I had felt like I had been renewed. I held back the tears as realization came over me. I had been renewed. All my progress had been erased and I was back at the beginning, all tolerances built were gone. I had to start again from scratch.

“No tears, Cheryl! I worked too hard on your makeup for you to mess it up!” Martina said. “Ingrid, would you do the honours, please?” She threw the plug towards her sister.

“Certainly, Martina.” Ingrid said as she caught the plug and held it a foot in front of my face.

“Come here, Cheryl. No! I didn't say you could walk! Stay there, heels against one another. Okay, now elbows in your sides and hands outward. Wrists limp. Good. Now bring that pretty mouth over, and smile.”

I bent forward, bringing my mouth towards the penetrator, forcing a smile.

“Yes, very good. Keep your knees straight. Now put your lips against the nice little plug...” I took the tip of the penetrator in my mouth. I could already taste the plastic.

“Good. Now, do what you do best. No, do not use your hands, only your mouth! That is it, up and down, in and out, make it nice and wet.”

So there I stood, bent forward, ass up, sucking the plug. As I moved my mouth around the penetrator, smiling, I understood I was only half right. Only my sense of shame had indeed been renewed. My technique at sucking cock was still just fine.

“That is enough, Cheryl. Stay just like that, bent forward. Keep your legs straight! Now, let me get behind you...”

She took up position behind me, and lowered my panties just enough to expose my sissy-hole.

“Cheryl, I want you to say: 'I'm a sweet little sissy and I love it up the ass.' Understood? Now, repeat!”

Reluctantly, I obeyed: “I'm a sweet little sissy and I...” Ingrid interrupted me as she pinched my earlobe, causing me to yelp.

“Say it like you mean it, sissy!” she snapped.

I did. I said it like I was very cheerful, smiling a happy smile. Martina burst out in laughter, tears coming to her face.

Ingrid patted the back of my ass. “Very good. Now, take a deep breath and say it again. Now.”

“I'm a sweet little sissy and I love it up the aAAH...!” She pushed hard on the plug and I felt something huge enter me. Ingrid's other had grabbed my shoulder, both to keep me in balance and to keep my head down.

I felt myself being opened wider and wider, until my anus closed around the plug, securing it inside my sissy hole. I moaned as I relaxed.

“There you go. Up now, girl,” Ingrid said as she pulled my panties over the plug and walked over to Martina.

“Fix yourself, Cheryl. Hurry girl, we haven't got all day. Now then, shoulders back, Cheryl. Hands to the sides. Mind your posture,” Ingrid commanded.

“Good. Now Cheryl, give me a nice deep curtsy.”

“Yes, Miss Ingrid” I looked to the ground, I took the hem of my skirt between my thumbs and index fingers, placed one leg behind the other, and bent my knees, bringing my torso to the ground. I felt the intruder put intolerable pressure in my ass. I was very relieved when I moved upwards again could assume my normal position.

Miss Ingrid and Martina both looked at me blank-faced, then turned to each other as wide smiles appeared.


“Perfect!” they said in unison.