Queen, Two Rooks – and a Pawn

Last year, when I posted Bea’s “Sleepover,” I wrote about how that short story was something I’d given serious consideration to turning into a comic at one point.  “A Queen, Two Rooks – and a Pawn” is another one of Bea's that I’ve felt was a strong contender for getting the comic treatment.  I’ve definitely thought about doing an illustration based on it at least.  I dunno, there was just something about this story that I remember liking.  The fact that the main character happens to have the same name as me has nothing to do with it.  Actually, if I were to draw this as a comic, I might be inclined to change said character’s name.

While I’m on the subject, in the Word doc that I saved this story to, I made a note that I had used the find/replace feature to change the name of one of the characters, which I did for personal reasons.  I’ve had cause to do that sort of thing on a number of occasions.  I can’t be the only one who finds it uncomfortable when a character in a work of erotica has the same name as someone you know.  However, in the interest in presenting this story as Bea wrote it, I’ve reverted that character’s name back to what it was originally.

QUEEN, TWO ROOKS – AND A PAWN

 

By Bea 

 

The rain was falling softly as Moira drove us up in front of the lodge.  From the first moment I was properly impressed.

“From what you mentioned" I said, “I got the idea that you and your daughters had been forced to live in some sort of broken down old cottage.  This is really quite spectacular, you know.."

I was telling the truth.  My companion had referred to her current domicile as 'the original gatekeepers cottage' for the estate.  This red sandstone building, glistening in the light rain, was substantial to say the least, two stories and, as far as I could determine, a fair depth to it.  I estimated that it had to have at least twelve rooms.

Moira hit the horn, laughing.  “These lazy little buggers!  They know we're here.  Just hoping that we'll be stupid enough to open the gate ourselves."

She put the window down and yelled out.  “C'mon somebody!  Shake a leg!  Open the bloody gate!"

“Oh, I’ll do it"  I offered, opening the car door.

“I wouldn't recommend it."  she answered.  “If you ever let my two away with anything, they'll press just to see how far they can go... "

But by that time I was out of the car and heading for the large bar that kept the gate in a closed position.   As I approached it, a rather tall red haired girl darted from the cottage door towards the same opener.  She held an umbrella above her but as her head was down to keep the rain out of her eyes she didn't seem to see me until we arrived at the lever together.

I didn't know who this young lady was.  It couldn't be one of the twins?  Surely not! From Moira's fond descriptions, I’d got the impression that her girls were in their early teens.  This young lady looked to be in her early twenties.  She finally looked up, and I found myself scrutinized by a pair of incredibly large green eyes, long lashed and seductive.  She moved her head slightly to one side.

“You must be David?  I’m Patricia.  Here.  Let me open this."  She put her hand on the lever.

“Oh please. Let me."  I answered.  “It looks rather stiff."

“It is,"  she said, slowly taking her hand off and watching me.

I pressed down.  It didn't budge one iota.  Reddening from the exertion and embarrassment, I tried again - with no more success.

“Here.  Let me,"  she said kindly and gave my hand a light push, before taking hold of the lever herself.  Totally humiliated, I saw the muscles on her forearm tauten, and the lever move downward with a squeal.  She pulled the gate open and motioned Moira to drive through.  Then she came around towards me with the umbrella.  It was quite small, and she put her arm around me to pull me in more under its protection.

And all of a sudden I had a premonition.  Well, maybe not that strong a feeling, but I definitely felt a faint uneasiness.  I tried to shake it off, but here I was - for a long weekend no less, with a woman who intimidated me somewhat, and (if her other daughter was anything like Patricia) I was in a household where I was the smallest person and, by the looks of it, certainly not the strongest.  A small shudder ran down my body.

She must have felt it.  “Cold?" She asked solicitously.  Then, without waiting for my answer.  “Never mind, we'll get you all nice and toasty warm in a little while."  And, still talking, she pulled me closer to her.

I didn't know what to do.  I knew that I was older than her.  Not much perhaps, yet somehow, it was if she'd classified me as a little kid.  Someone who needed looking after.  She made me uncomfortably aware that she was just as strong minded as her mother.

I’d met Moira at a whist drive in the local village.  We'd both arrived without partners and had drawn each other.  She was very down to earth and an aggressive - very aggressive - card player.  Due to this, I’d been a part of the winning pair for the first time in my life.

During the evening we'd chatted between hands. I’d discovered that she was a divorced mother with twin daughters, who were home for the 'hols' and,  according to her, she was 'desperately' trying to keep them amused.  She admitted that she was enjoying her night off.  Seemingly, she had been visiting the village to talk to the dean of the local girl's school that her daughters attended.  I knew very little of the school except that it was very exclusive - and very expensive.  It also turned out that she was staying the night with a friend, Jane Waugh, who happened to be my solicitor.

As that evening had progressed, I had got the feeling that she was evaluating me.  Don't get me wrong.  I don't mean romantically:  for one thing, she was quite a lot older than me.  Definitely attractive still, but well out of my age bracket.  For another, I’ve never really interested women.  It's as if they sense that I’m shy of them - something, I don't know.  I’m not homosexual, I just don't seem to have the necessary 'drive' to get romantically involved with someone of the opposite sex.

There was nothing unfriendly about her scrutiny really, just something about it that made me a little uneasy.

Anyway, before the night was over, she'd invited me to her home for the following weekend.  It turned out that she lived on a large estate some forty miles away - more amazingly, that she owned it - a part of the divorce settlement.  (though she did say that the heating bills - and the cost of servants to staff the main house during the winter had caused her to experiment with moving to the forementioned gatekeepers cottage.  She was going to be passing through my village on her way home on the Friday, so could pick me up then.  As I don't drive, this eliminated any transportation problems.  I accepted her invitation with alacrity.

I’d somehow got the picture of me, Moira, and a couple of naughty (but nice) little girls playing monopoly, toasting marshmallows, drinking hot chocolate - with everyone deferring to my masculine presence.  As can be imagined from the conditions attending my actual arrival, this picture was starting to disintegrate a little in my imagination.

Evelyn met us at the door.  As big - and as beautiful as her sister.  More blonde in coloring though, and blue eyes instead of green, but with the same grace and athleticism.  She shook my hand at the introduction, and I could feel the strength in her arm.

“David?  It is David?  Yes?  I saw you come in.  Have trouble opening the gate?"  she asked in a low, throaty voice.

“Yes I did."  I admitted.  “Is there some sort of knack to it?"

“Not that I’m aware of."  Patricia said.  “Needs a little muscle, that's all."

And Evelyn shocked me.  She laughing unbelievingly, she took hold of my arm and squeezed my bicep.

“Not much there, I’m afraid,"  she giggled, turning to her sister.  “Think that even Sissy Walker has more than this."

“You're kidding!"  Patricia said, then did the same thing. “Y'know!  I think you're dead on!  Not much there at all, is there?"

“Would you two stop pawing our guest?"  I heard Moira's voice behind us.  “He'll think you've got no social manners at all - and I’ve been trying to convince him that you gals are nice!  Now!  One of you?  Take his bag up to his room, please?"  She came up to us and dumped my weekender suitcase on the floor beside us.

“Mumsy!"  both girls cried, and went and hugged her enthusiastically.

She returned their embraces. Looked over Evelyn's shoulder at me.

“David?  Don't believe this show of affection, it's put on strictly for your sake.  And?  Especially don't let these girls run over you.  They will, given the chance.  In this house I’m afraid, it's survival of the fittest, so don't feel averse to giving either one of them a whack alongside the head - it's the only language they understand."

I couldn't believe it.  Was she seriously advocating that I give one - or both, of these amazons a 'whack'?  She obviously had more confidence in my physical prowess than I did.

I shrugged and grinned as well as I could. “They're fine!"  I said.  “Young.  That's all."

The two girls were now pulling at my case, arguing as to who was going to do me the honor of escorting me to my room, reminding me more of two rambunctious lion cubs rough-housing than anything else.

“Hey!" Moira said.  “What about my luggage?  Would either one of you ..?"

But she shrugged as the two of them totally ignored her and started up the stairs.

“Looks as if you've already got them interested David.  What did I tell you?"

I had no answer as both girls, obviously coming to a truce, were calling down and urging me to come to my room.  Helplessly, I followed, listening to the sounds of   Moira  's laughter from behind us.

“I 'm telling you David.  Watch out! I recognize the signs  - they've got their eyes on you!"

I grinned back weakly at her, but continued on up the stairs.

 

My room was small, but comfortably furnished.  A fire burned brightly in the grate.

“Oh!  How nice!"  I said.  “So welcoming after a drive on a cold rainy day."

“Glad you like it"  Patricia said.  “But aren't you going to thank Evelyn properly?  She was the one that set it."

“Of course."  I said, turning towards her sister.  “Evelyn?  That was so nice.. Mmmmm"

Finding myself speechless as Evelyn took me in her arms and kissed me, full on the lips and to my amazement, her tongue forcing its way down my throat!

I was so surprised that I didn't even struggle, just reacted by submitting, and putting my arms around her neck.  Then, somehow or other, I found myself sitting on the bed, Evelyn's arms now around my shoulder watching Patricia unpack my suitcase.  She smiled broadly, lifting my jockey shorts in the air.

“Would you look at these?  So masculine!"

“Oooh!  And would you look at that robe!"  Evelyn said excitedly.  “I’ve always wanted one just like that. Blue plaid!"

“Me too!"  Patricia retorted - “But I’ve got it, and possession is nine tenths of the law.  Right?"

With that, she slipped her arms into it, pulled it around her, and tied the sash.

“A little small, maybe - but oh, so warm!"  she enthused.  “Can I have it?"

I was nonplussed by her brazen request. “But.. But - it's a man's ... And it's the only one I have with me... "  I protested weakly.

She pursed her lips and pouted.

“What difference does it make if it's a man's, eh?  And if it turns out that you need a robe that badly? - I’ll swap you for it.  I’ve got some pretty ones.  There's sure to be one you'll like."

Evelyn spoke up.  “He'd drown in one of yours, you big horse .. Why don't you ask mumsy for one?  She's got tons, and she's almost exactly the same size as him."

“Great idea sis!"  Patricia exulted and, still in my robe ran out of the room.

“That's got rid of that pest for a minute" I heard a whisper in my ear and, without any other warning I was pulled into Evelyn's embrace again and kissed soundly.  To my shame, I whimpered a little and struggled weakly. She giggled a little, and overcame my futile protest easily, then twisted my body so that I was lying almost on my back, across her thighs, cradled in her left arm, her right stroking my face, bending over to give me gentle kisses.

“Now lie there and be good!"  she admonished me.  “You don't want to get Evelyn unhappy now.  Do you?"

I shook my head.

“You're so cute!" she said admiringly, stroking my face with her fingertips.  “And smooth too.  Just a real sweetie!"  and she dropped her lips on to mine again.  This kiss only lasted a few seconds before she lifted her head. I looked up at her.

“Now!  Before sis gets back.  You going to be Evelyn's little pussy cat?"

“Eh?" I asked dreamily. “What d'you mean?"

She pinched my cheek.  “Don't be naughty now!  I’m asking if you want to be my little pussy cat?"

“A  pussy cat?"

“Well, silly.  Not a real puss - just a pretty soft pet that I can stroke and be nice to."  she gave me another quick kiss.

“What happens if I don't want to be a ... Pet?"  I knew that I was asking a perfectly reasonable question - but why did my voice tremble as I asked it?

She shook her head.  “No.  Don't be silly now.  You don't want to get Evelyn all upset, do you?"

There was decidedly some menace in her voice - a veiled threat.

“Oh no, Evelyn."  I submitted.  “I  wouldn't want to do that."

“Good!"  she said.  “Now miew for Evelyn, like a good little pussy."

“Miew"  I responded.

“Not bad at all!  Just a little softer this time.  Try again."

And I did.  A number of times before she was completely satisfied.

She reached into a pocket and pulled something out.  I didn't get a full view of it, but it looked like a band of blue velvet with a small chrome circle attached to it.  She wrapped it around my neck.

“What is that Evelyn?  What are you doing?"

“Putting your collar on, Fluffy.  Pets need collars, you know?  And you are my pet, aren't you?"

“You want me to wear a collar?"

“Of course!  What else would you wear?  D'you have a problem with a velvet one?  Would you rather it was leather?"

I shook my head.  “No.  The velvet one's okay I guess."  thinking, what in the world had I got myself into?

“That's a good Fluffy"  she said, reaching into her pocket.  “Now, where's that leash?"  she pulled a length of pink satin ribbon out of her pocket.

“Aha!  Here it is!" 

She then looped one end around the chrome circle on my collar and tied it with a bow.  She slipped out from under me, holding the other end of the ribbon.  Gave it a tug.

“C'mon Fluffy.  Let's go and look for aunty Patricia.  C'mon now!  That's a good pussy!"

I couldn't believe what was happening to me.  I hadn't been in the house for a half hour, yet had been kissed and fondled - and was now going to be led around the house on a leash, like a cat - and I sensed that she didn't exactly consider me a tom either!  She tugged at the leash.

“C'mon!"

I knew what was expected.  Followed.  But before we reached the door, Patricia came bursting in, still wearing my robe, a pink terry towel robe over her arm.

“Mummy said..."  she started, then saw what was happening.

“That's not fair!" she yowled.  “I saw him first.  It was me that went out in the rain.  You're mean Evelyn!  He's mine!"

Evelyn turned to me. “Sit Fluffy!  Sit!"

I obeyed and sat down on the carpet.

The two girls glared at each other.

“If you hadn't been in such a damn hurry to get him into something pretty.."  Evelyn started.

“You knew he was to be my dolly."  Patricia argued.  “I mean, I let you kiss him, but that doesn't mean you get to keep him!"

“Did I say anything about keeping him?"  Evelyn asked pleasantly.  “He was just so sweet and docile about putting on his collar - and, I mean he just loves the name 'Fluffy"  - don't you Fluffy?  Say miew."

I miewed for my mistress.

“That I wanted to bring him to meet you.."  Evelyn continued.

Patricia grinned.  “Well, that's better.  Why didn't you say so?  Boy sis!  You sure are a good trainer.  I don't know how you do it!  But no argument now?  He's my dolly?"

“I don't see why you're so greedy"  Evelyn retorted.  “Can't you share a little?"

Patricia got a suspicious look on her face.  “What's a little?"

“I  was thinking that I could take Fluffy to let mumsy see ..."

“Well.  If that's all, okay."  Patricia agreed.  “But her lipstick's the wrong shade - I’d want to change that.."

“Oh that's not his lipstick"  Evelyn giggled, “That's mine I guess."

“I don't care who's it is." Patricia said sharply.  “What would mumsy think if she saw one of my dollies walking around like that?"

Evelyn shrugged.  “Ok by me.  Your room?"

At Patricia's nod, Evelyn jerked my leash gently.  “C'mon Fluffy.  Let's go to aunty Pat's room, let her make you all pretty."

I followed her, but started pleading.  “Please girls?  Please?  Hasn't this joke gone far enough?"

Both of them shook their heads, and giggled in disbelief.

“Isn't she funny!"  Patricia laughed.  She turned back to me.  “Dolly?  I haven't even started yet.."  she saw the frightened look on my face.  “Aw is Dolly scared?  Tell you what.  Just a little lipstick just now.  Okay?  I’ve got a nice red shade that'll look so pretty on you..."

“What about eyelashes?" Evelyn asked.  “Your dollies never look proper without eyelashes.... Least I don't think so.."

Five minutes later, the three of us stood outside   Moira's room.  I was still on my leash, but was now made up with a bright red lipstick and a pair of very thick, black, false eyelashes.

“Ok.  That's the deal"  Patricia said.  “You get to lead Fluffy in, then she's my dolly.  Comes and sits on my lap.  Right?"

Evelyn nodded.  Knocked on the door.  “Mumsy?  Can we come in?"

“Girls?  Yes!  Come in!"

And I was paraded in to Moira's room - like a female slave behind Roman centurions.

Moira  's reaction surprised me.  I hadn't known what to expect, but was totally shaken when her only facial expression was one of aggravation.

“Oh David!"  She remonstrated.  “I told you!  Now what am I going to do?  I mean.  This is too much!  How could you!"

“Her name is Dolly, mumsy."  Patricia said.  Though Evelyn calls her 'Fluffy,"

“Dolly?  Fluffy?  If I had known you two were this far along, I’d never have given you that terry robe of mine Patricia.  That's one of my favorites you know."

“Well. She hasn't worn it yet.  Has she?"  Patricia retorted.  “And anyway, I like my dollies in prettier things than that.."

“Yeah."    Moira   responded, “But it's my pretties you generally want to borrow, isn't it?"

Patricia giggled.  “I was thinking of that polka dot - you know?  The yellow one?"

Moira   pursed her lips.  “You're kidding, surely!  But now that I think of it, I’d bet he'd look really sweet in it - all these little frills and flounces ... Oooh!.  Where did I put it?"  She walked to a closet and started rummaging through it. 

The next thing, she was walking back towards me with a cloud of yellow fabric over her arm.  “Stand up straight Dolly, Fluffy, whatever your name is!  Let me see how this outfit will look on you.”

“Moira?  A dress?  I can’t wear a dress!” I mewled.

“Can’t?  Can’t?  Don’t be so bloody negative Dolly!  And anyway? It’s a skirt and blouse!  Come on now!”

“Well mumsy?  Didn’t you think of bringing undies for the poor thing?” Patricia said.  “I mean, if he’s to be MY girl?” She shot a pointed look at Evelyn. “I want him to be nice!”

“Jesus!” Moira laughed.  “I don’t think there’s any pleasing you.  But I suppose . .”   She wandered off towards a chest of drawers.

Nothing in my life up to that point had prepared me for the shame and indignity that was to follow. A middle aged woman sitting sniggering on a couch as her two strapping daughters man-handled me out of my clothes – and into feminine lingerie, laughing and giggling at my resistance – or lack of it.

“Oh, you look so pretty!” Evelyn said.

“Needs more padding in that bra!  I like my girls to have big tits!”  Patricia said.

“No need to be coarse, darling!” Moira chided.  “You’ll hurt Dolly’s feelings!”

Strangely enough? Once they had finished dressing me, the teasing ended. It was as if by donning the yellow skirt with large white polka dots, the peasant blouse, the layered petticoat – the stockings and the strappy white sandals, I became Dolly – just another girl.  Yes,  I had to wear another velvet collar – a soft brown in color this time – and I had to smile and answer to the name Dolly – and sitting on Patricia’s lap, I discovered what, exactly, was meant by the term ‘Patricia’s girlfriend’ but, to be quite honest, I learned to play along and really?  It was quite pleasant being kissed tenderly and fondled. I’m ashamed, but must admit that I giggled girlishly a few times.

I also found it somewhat difficult to attune to my ‘breasts’. The girls had simply filled some balloons with some sort of water and gel mixture and put them within the cups of my bra.  They had a most natural feel to them – and movement, and after the girls had trained me to walk properly – that is carefully place one foot directly in front of the other – my hips fell into alignment by swaying which not only made my skirts move  but my breasts as well.  So, when I say it was difficult for me to attune to them, it wasn’t the movement – it was as if my center of gravity had changed.  The fact that both girls seemed to take a great delight in fondling them added to the strangeness.

The movement I’m describing came as we three prepared a meal and drank copious glasses of wine while doing so.  It was just a light meal and, after we had finished clearing up, I felt quite drunk – and don’t think I was alone in that regard.

I was sitting in Patricia’s lap when Evelyn said “I think it’s time for Fluffy to get fed.”

Moira got up from her chair.  “Ah well then, it’s time for me to go to bed. Now girls?  Please don’t hurt the poor little thing.”

“We won’t!  Night mumsy!” The two of them chorused.  “Sleep tight!”

Moira shook her head and came over to me.  “Goodnight Dolly.  See you in the morning.  Try not to cry – okay?” With that, she brushed cheeks with me and left the room.

I felt kinda giggly.  “But Evelyn?  Why should Moira tell me not to cry?  And I’m not hungry.  I just ate.”

“Fluffy?  Pussies can’t talk.  Just miew for me please?”

“Miew?”

“That’s better!  Now Patricia?  Why don’t you put Fluffy’s leash on her for me, would you?  I’m too lazy to get up.”  With that, she tossed one end of the ribbon leash to Patricia, who tied it onto the ring on my collar.

“What’re you doing?” I giggled, then yelped as Patricia gave my leash a sharp tug!  “Come here Fluffy – you good little pussy!  On all fours now!”

We all giggled as, on my hands and knees,  I crossed over to where Patricia sprawled on the sofar,  They cheered when I miewed a few times on the way over.

“Isn’t she just the prettiest pussy?”  Patricia asked. “Gonna make her your Dolly?”

“Seems like a good time for it, “ Evelyn said, getting up and going out of the room.

To my amazement, I say Patricia hike her skirts up in a most immodest way, and then pulling her panties down – and off.  “Okay Fluffy,” she smiled at me as she lounged back.  “Up on the sofa now – There’s a good little pussy!”

As I knelt up on the sofa, she then said  “Look what Patricia has for her little pussy – a nice bowl of cream.!  Now why don’t you lap it all up!”  With that, she spread her legs, gave my leash a strong tug, and I found myself with my face in her groin!

“Now stay there!” she commanded – and pulled her skirt down over my head, then one of her hands pressed was placed on back of my head and forced me face hard into her vagina.  “Lick it all up!” she commanded.

I’ve heard of men who enjoy doing this sort of thing to a woman – but I didn’t.  Thought that I couldn’t be more degraded as I licked away at her and she lay there, groaning in ecstasy – but I was wrong.

I heard the door open and Evelyn come back in.  “Oh Evelyn, that’s just a little one!” I heard Patricia say.

“Yeah – but I don’t want to hurt my little Dolly.  I’ll keep the bigger ones for later,” Evelyn said – and I felt my skirt being lifted – and then my panties being slid down my legs and slowly removed.  Then I felt the couch sag a little as Evelyn knelt behind  me, forcing my knees apart so that she could get in between them. 

I may be an innocent, but I knew what she had in mind when I felt something soft and squishy being worked into my back passage. I started to cry. “Please Evelyn?  Don’t do this.  I’ll do anything you want.  Just please don’t.”

“Hush Dolly.  Just relax!” she said and her hands were forcing my buttocks apart, then something was slowly entering me.

With me sandwiched between them, the girls laughingly compared the ‘fun’ I was giving them over my head as, gradually, the tempo of Evelyn’s dildo increased and we all panted and moaned then finally  Evelyn reached around me with panties wadded around my penis and we all orgasmed at the same time.

Unfortunately for me, it rained like cats and dogs all weekend. I say unfortunately simply because it kept us all in the house,  Though now that I come to think on it, I wonder what additional humiliations they would have thought up if they’d been able to take me outside.

You’ve heard of sex toys?  That’s what I was.  Both girls seemed to be insatiable.  Patricia could only have orgasm from being licked and Evelyn from putting on a dildo and buggering me.  She also liked to dress me in her mother’s clothes.  She had called me Dolly for a very good reason, because that’s what I became – her doll. The whole time afterwards, I never wore anything but women’s clothes.  My eyebrows were plucked, I was bikini waxed, my ears were pierced – I was manicured and pedicured. My hair was put up in rollers and styled.

Don’t get me wrong.  Both girls were very demanding but as long as I behaved they were nice to me. They didn’t mind me crying – which I did a lot at first – because they’d coo sympathetically and cuddle their little toy.  I learned that they didn’t like me to complain verbally though – and after being spanked just once by Evelyn acted thrilled and delighted each time either of them wanted anything – or did anything to me.  Patricia just LOVED me servicing her with a ribbon in my hair – and wearing flouncy baby dolls..  It was a nuisance having to go and change in the middle of the afternoon – or any other time for that matter, but I learned to approach her on my hands and knees, smiling and miewing happily.

Moira would sit there smiling benignly as they played with me – or had sex. She called me Dolly all the time now and would say things like.  “Now Evelyn!  Don’t be so rough with Dolly!” as Evelyn would be banging away at my backside.  Or she’d say “Patricia!  That’s SO immodest!  Pull your skirts down!” as I was lapping away.

They dressed me in a skirt suit the day I left.  It was a tiny white polka dot on navy blue grosgrain.  The jacket was nipped in at the waist and it had a fairly large peplum, which made me appear to have hips.  A faux ruby brooch on the rounded collar matched my lipstick and earrings – and nail polish.  Under the jacket I wore a lacy camisole and, having had breast forms adhered to my chest, naturally, a matching bra.  The lace of the camisole showed a little, tastefully of course, under my jacket

I wore dark nylons under the straight skirt.  High heeled shoes had given me trouble at first – they were a little too big for me, but they’d put some insoles inside them and now I was walking in heels as if I’d done so all of my life. I also carried a white handbag to match – with all of my cosmetics inside.  A decorous white straw hat  that framed one side of my face prettily, completed my outfit.

The two girls kissed me goodbye tenderly and smiled as I promised to return and visit them again before they returned to school.

Once we had left I was stupid enough to ask Moira if I could change before she took me home.

“Whatever for?  You look very nice Dolly.”

“But my housekeeper.  Mrs. Bridges.  She’ll see me!”

“I’d imagine that she will – unless she’s blind of course.”

I started to whimper.

“Dolly! If you’re going to be naughty, I’ll take you back and have the girls drive you home.  That what you want?”

“No mummy.” (I’d found that she liked me to call her that.)

“That’s a good girl.  Now talk nicely, or don’t talk at all.”  She said.

I’d tried to plan on how to avoid Mrs. Bridges but I needn’t have bothered.  Moira insisted on accompanying me to the door, then chattered to me as I opened the door to let us both in.  Naturally, Mrs. Bridges heard us and came to meet us. A tall, austere, woman she didn’t recognize me at first but once she did, a small smile played around her mouth. “May I say sir?  You look very pretty today?”

“Sir?  Don’t be silly Mrs. Bridges.   Her name is Dolly now.”  She turned to me.  “Tell her,  Dolly!”

“My name is Dolly now, Mrs.  Bridges.” I said, blushing.

“Yes.  She’s just spent the weekend with my two girls and me, dressing up and learning to be a proper girl.  Having all sorts of fun, haven’t you Dolly?” Moira said.

“Yes mummy.”

Moira nodded. “Now Mrs. Bridges, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Yes ma’am?”

“Oh just call me Moira.  You seem to have quite a few rooms in this house?”

“Yes Moira, we do.”

“Good!  My two daughters – delightful girls – will be going back to school in a month or so.  I was wondering if it would be an imposition to put them up here? The dorms the school provide are totally unsuitable.”

Mrs.  Bridges looked puzzled. “You should be asking the master about that, I think.”

“You mean Dolly?” Moira asked incredulously.

“I suppose so,” Mrs. Bridges smiled.

“Dolly?” Moira said.

“Yes mummy?”

“Your nose is shiny.  Why don’t you powder it?”

“Yes mummy,” I said then, in front of the smiling Mrs. Bridges I took my compact from my handbag and dusted my nose with the powder. Daintily put it back in my handbag and closed it.

“Now Dolly?  Why don’t you take off that pretty hat, then go into the kitchen and put on an apron – and make us two ladies a pot of tea?”

“Yes ma’am I said, and taking the sides of my skirts made a small curtsey.

“I was wondering, “ Mrs.  Bridges said as she took Moira’s arm and escorted her to the sitting room “What I’d do for help if we had other people staying here.  Now I see that I needn’t worry.  Dolly?  Don’t forget to serve some lemon with the tea.”

“Yes ma’am” I said and curtseyed her too.

 

The end

 

 

An Hour in the Life- Very short story with image

 

I hadn’t realized it was so long since I’d posted anything here.

Below is an old story which some readers may have seen before, it’s very short but I subsequently wrote either a  prequel or sequel - I just can’t remember and also can’t locate it right now. When I do I’ll post it.

Hopefully those blog readers who have not read this may enjoy it.

Carrie

 

An Hour In The Life (Of A Sissy)

By

CarrieP

 

A

s he sat at his dressing table gazing into the mirror William tried to make sense of how everything in his world had been turned upside down and inside out. It had only been a week since he walked into Martha, his fiancée’s family home. A confident, charming and impeccably groomed young man sure of himself and his place in the world, he remembered dismissing Martha’s advice regarding her overbearing mother.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head my dear.” he recalled saying to her as if she was a child  “I have never met a woman I could not handle, I really cannot foresee any problems with your mother I’m quite certain I will have her eating out of my hand in no time.”

That conversation seemed like a lifetime ago now.

The reflection in the mirror now bore no resemblance to that self-possessed young man. Staring back at him was a flawlessly made-up pretty face, a hint of blush accentuating the high cheekbones, a dusky eye shadow and mascara  emphasising large brown eyes, his already full lips enhanced by the application of a deep rose pink lipstick, hair brushed into a distinctly feminine style.

It took all his masculine will power to hold back the tears. Ruining his make-up with the salty tears of humiliation would result in a severe scolding followed by an equally severe spanking by Mummy- as he now had to address his future mother-in-law.

Crying was only permissible after he had his make-up removed and that would not be until later when Louise, his maid, would undress him and put him to bed for his afternoon nap.

His hand drifted to his shoulder where he was about to fidget with the wide strap of his tight and oppressive long-line brassiere and just as his fingers reached the heavy material he caught a glimpse in the mirror of Louise returning from the large walk-in closet. The hand dropped immediately. Interfering or indeed touching his bra, girdle or stockings without permission was considered a serious breach of Mummy’s rules regarding ladylike behaviour, particularly in front of the servants. And Louise would only love to witness another spanking so she could relay his utter humiliation to the rest of the all female domestic staff who were enjoying every minute of his shame at being transformed into a simpering and submissive sissy.

“I hope you were not playing with your brassiere straps Miss William.” she said mockingly.

“Oh no, Louise.” he answered meekly.

The words ‘Miss William’ bit into him harder than the straps of his tight and oppressive brassiere but he dare not show it.

“That’s a good girl.” she said in her usual patronising tone “You know you are supposed to ask permission and I’m sure you don’t want another demerit on your behaviour chart. You already have two from yesterday. The mistress would be so disappointed.”

Another demerit and he would find himself summoned to Mummy’s bedroom and after being lectured about his lack of decorum he would have to drape himself over her knee and suffer the consequences of his poor behaviour.

“Yes Louise.” he replied shivering at the prospect.

“Now would you like me to adjust your straps?” she asked looking at him in the mirror.

Even though it had been less than a week since he entered the house William had learnt very quickly that having a good relationship with your personal maid was very important if he was to avoid accumulating demerits.

“Oh yes please Louise.” he responded gratefully, he still had not got used to wearing a brassiere and he felt the shoulder straps and the back band were pinching his skin. “I’d be very grateful, it’s very tight.”

“Oh it’s not tight at all Miss William. Girls have to put up with these little discomforts  every day. But I’m sure you will soon become accustomed to it. ” Louise said a little disdainfully but he could see that she was happy that he had asked her permission which gave him cause for relief, she continued

  “It’s just your breast forms are slightly out of place and you’re not used to the rigours of ladies foundation garments. As you know these are the mistress’s so they may not fit perfectly. When you have proper breasts and are fitted by the mistress’s corsetiere you will be grateful for such wonderful support. Now stand up I want to check the seams on your stocking are straight and properly fixed to your girdle.”

William had multiple humiliations to endure but wearing his future mother-in-law’s brassiere and girdle was by far the worst. They were a constant reminder of his subjugation.

“Ah… did you say…proper…”he began but Louise was already concentrating deeply on checking his stockings.

“Yes all secured properly.” she said as she retrieved a six layered bouffant petticoat with gold trim on the hem.

The sight of the huge garment distracted him from his enquiries.

“Oh please Louise do I have to wear that.” he pleaded as she fluffed out the voluminous material.

“Miss William!” Louise snapped “Madam said you have to look your prettiest today as you are meeting her sisters. Now please behave and do as you are told otherwise I will be forced to issue you with a demerit?”

“Oh no please Louise.” he pleaded “Not that. It’s just that… it’s so…”he mumbled.

“Feminine.”Louise said helpfully and laughed “Yes of course it is. What did you expect? Madam wants to show her sisters what a wonderfully pretty young man her new son-in law is.”

William bit his lip, the shame of his situation coursing through his body.

“Now are you going to be a good girl or do I have to issue your demerit?” she said impatiently.

He nodded silently.

“Say it.” Louise snapped.

“I’ll be a good girl.” he sobbed.

“Remember now, no tears. You know how it ruins your make-up” Louise warned him gently, arranging the bulky petticoats carefully as she spread them out on the floor she then took his hands in hers.“It will only get you into more trouble. Now be a good girl and step into your petticoats and if there are no more tantrums I promise I won’t say anything to the mistress. You have made so much progress both she and Miss Martha are so proud of you. She would be so disappointed if she thought you were reverting to one of those ungrateful and belligerent males who fail to recognise the generosity and kindness of their future mother-in-law.  ”

She smiled at him encouragingly.

“You’re not one of those, are you?”she enquired as if talking to a five years old.

“No.” he replied and briefly thought of saying something, anything, if only to prove to himself that he still retained a modicum of self-respect but knew that even the merest hint of disagreement would be considered an act of rebellion. He had also learnt enough to know how it would be viewed by his future mother-in-law.

Perhaps I may be able to persuade Mummy when we’re alone to allow me to have my own clothes back he foolishly thought to himself Best let sleeping dogs lie. Now what did she say about proper breasts.

“That’s a good girl.” Louise said “Now step into your petticoats.”

Once more he became befuddled as Louise bent down in front of him and he grimaced as Louise pulled the bulky garment up his legs and buttoned it into place. She stood back and admired her handiwork before returning to the bed to retrieve his dress and as she inspected the dress she called out to him.

“Fluff it out so you will get the full effect.”

Afraid to disobey and risk the dreaded third demerit he did as he was told, which appeared to please Louise greatly. It only took a few moments for Louise to place the dress over his head and zip him into it. She fussed around him fluffing out the extensive material of the petticoats and the multi layered silk and chiffon dress before leading him to the mirror.

“Yes very pretty.” she said “Madam will be so pleased. Now let me see you twirl.”

Again a voice in his head said ‘no’ but the thought of being draped over Mummy’s knee immediately overruled such a rash response.

“Don’t you just love that swishing sound? And they way your dress stands out?” Louise sighed. “It’s just so  wonderfully feminine. The ladies will dote on you I’m sure.”

William gave a weak smile and nodded.

“Now come along.” she said moving towards the door “Time to go.”

The silence in the long corridor leading to the stairs was punctured only by the rustling sound of his petticoats and as they arrived at the top of the stairs Louise held out her hand.

“Take my hand Miss. You’re not that used to heels.” she whispered “Now just like Madam taught you, one foot gracefully in front of the other.”

As they reached the bottom William could hear the distinct sound of high pitched female voices and his heart began racing. Louise led him to the door of the drawing room and began fussing again, removing a stray piece of thread, adjusting the dress and petticoats to her satisfaction, smoothing his hair.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as she bustled around him like a mother hen, the chatter from the room seemed to grow louder.

He looked towards the front door about ten metres away.

“I don’t think you would get very far in those heels.” Louise said casually as her eyes met his “And besides the other servants would catch you before you reached the gate.”

His eyes fell to the floor.

“Now just be a good, well behaved sissy and don’t forget to curtsy when you are introduced to Madam’s sisters.”

Louise opened the door and he heard the noise slowly abate until there was silence and Louise announced.

“Miss William, Madam.”

 

Face the Facts

 Dear friends and fellow admirers of strong women and pretty clothes,

I'm posting a short story, actually more of a snippet I wrote in attempt, of sorts, to reclaim my free will, and my brain, after again falling into the abyss of fooling around with generative AI.

I promised myself I would stay away from that, but all it took was a moment of weakness and I discovered that the new version of ChatGPT was far more lenient regarding the rules of stories with dominant female characters that are intent of feminizing the male hero. As long as the hero has at least token leaning towards femininity, the wife, mother-in-law or the lady boss is allowed to take full control of his destiny. To an extent.

Then, I found that extent to be extended even further with DeepSeek. It has no trouble generating a story where the woman flat out forces the man into femininity. I did still get it to refuse to cooperate a couple of times, but in essence, I was able to recreate most of Bea's scenarios.

The story posted below is also a recycling of Bea's scenarios (and names). Like stated above, I wrote it mainly to prove to myself I am still capable of writing something sensible that is not an AI chatbot prompt, and something that I can wrap up in a limited amount of time.

I'll let you be the judge of whether I succeeded or not, but I do hope you'll like it.