Swiss Miss Sissy, Chapters 26, 27 and 28

 

Hey, remember "Swiss Miss Sissy"?  Bambi sent me a new chapter in late 2020 and another couple new ones last year, but I'm only getting around to posting them now because I've been preoccupied with my own shit.  I haven't even bothered to read most of whatever Bambi wrote.  What I have read, I don't remember.  To be totally frank, I'm having a difficult time caring about this story anymore.  However, perhaps there are one or two followers of this blog still keen to be updated on the ongoing adventures of Cheryl.  

Chapter 26: Cross-dressing, crossing age boundaries, cross-examination and crossfire. Cheryl discovers that even the great sisterhood of Mistresses is not one big happy family.

It had been a miserable night. Tied up and locked in my tiny playpen, my classmates ignoring my sporadic cries for help, I could only sit and wait in the darkness.

Though the abundance of stuffed animals made my cage mildly comfortable, I couldn't sleep. Every time I was about to doze off, my head nodded and I awoke. So I spent my time trying to ignore to pressure in my bladder and the tireless plug.

At some point I found myself walking down the hallways of the school. I was looking for a toilet because I desperately needed to relieve myself. But the school was being hit by a major earthquake, and I felt the tremors run up my legs and into my crotch. Worse still, I was being chased around by a huge bumblebee that constantly tried to land on my rear. I tried to scream, but I couldn't because a huge baby bottle filled with a creeping green ooze was lodged between my lips.

...I guess sleep finally did manage to claim me.

I remember an alarm going off, and I saw my classmates rise from their slumber. My memories of that moment are... warped. Intermittent. Colors were brighter, sounds deeper, straight lines seemed slightly curved. Like it was part of a dream too. Probably my tired and seriously overstimulated brain hadn't regained full consciousness yet, though I cannot exclude the possibility my dinner had an ingredient that wasn't quite all-natural...

Not that it mattered. Aside from a few friendly greetings (and a mean-spirited snigger from Buttercup) they ignored me as they prepared for the day. After cleaning themselves, dressing, applying make-up and performing extensive checks on their appearance, they lined up and marched off, leaving me all alone.

The urge to visit the toilet was becoming intolerable. I looked to my side, longingly observing the entrance to the bathroom. It seemed larger then life, inviting me inside to find a ceramic throne and relieve myself...

I started to wiggle inside my tiny cage, struggling with my bonds. I pulled on the metal bars, kicked my legs, twisted my torso. I wasn't quite fighting my restraints; I was still too tired to be agitated. I simply tried to get myself in motion and head to the bathroom, regardless of my bondage.

It worked as well as you might imagine, and after bumping my head for the third time I uttered an annoyed squeal. I didn't relent on my hopeless efforts, but my frustration elicited pitiful sobbing.

I felt so utterly helpless...

This is unfair! I thought as I vainly struggled in my playpen. I need to go to the toilet! Let me go!

My sobbing turned into crying. It was muffled by my pacifier to a soft moan, but I felt tears run down my cheeks. The urge to relieve myself and the grief of being unable to claimed my whole reality.

I hardly noticed the dormitory's large door open, the painted pink sissy swinging away to reveal two figures. I was still struggling with the drowsiness, never mind my sadness, but I recognized the two Mistress; one in red latex and one in dark blue velvet. The same ones that had tended to me yesterday.

They were chatting among themselves, in that weird language that made no sense to me. They greeted me enthusiastically in that same unintelligible prattle. Miss Wächter had exchanged a few words in English with them, so I knew they understood at least some of it. For whatever reason thought, they didn't bother to speak it to me. The only words I could discern were some nonsensical baby talk that they seemed to find hilarious.

“Goo-goo?” the one in red asked me as they approached my pen.

“Grumfh! Hurmpfh!” I grumbled. Very funny, Mistress... Let me out, please. I need to go to the toilet. Urgently.

They showed no sign of being in a hurry. “Ga-ga?” The blue one said as she crouched next to the cage.

“Huff?” I asked confused. What did they want?

The red one joined her colleague. They exchanged some words, burst out laughing, then turned towards me.

“Goo-goo, ga-ga?” One asked again. “Couchy-couchy-coo?” the second added.

What was their problem? I wondered. Never mind, that. I really needed to go to the toilet. I struggled, getting agitated. Let me out, I thought as tears kept running.

My useless wiggling amused them, but the red one nevertheless wagged her finger in a reproachful 'tut-tut' motion. “Goo-goo,” she said again.

Why don't you go goo yourself? I thought, getting more frantic in my struggles.

Like a serpent, the blue one reached inside my pen and gave a sharp tug on my earlobe. I squealed in dismay.

“Bad baby!” she said venomously.

I looked at her through my tear-stained eyes, unable to stop sobbing. All mirth was gone from her face. From her colleague's as well.

I clearly had come dangerously close to stepping over the limits of this... game we were playing. Get with the program, their silent eyes told me.

They coolly observed me. I hesitated. The blue Mistress was about to lean in again.

“Guh-guh...” I uttered, despite my pacifier.

Their eyes lit up, satisfied with my response.

“Goo-goo?” the blue one asked me.

No idea if there was an actual question behind it, but I replied with a meaningless 'bu-bu-bah', forcing the silly sounds past my gag.

“Ga-ga?” the latex Mistress askes me. The mirth had returned to her expression. Heck, it radiated from her face!

“Coo-coo. Bah-bah,” I answered.

We continued this little chit-chat in baby talk. I began applying my lessons in Sissythink: play along and get creative. Pretend this is real. Make it real.

I had stopped struggling. Instead I used my limited range of motion to underline my infantile statements.

“Goo-goo. Ba-ba-te-ba. Mu-mu. Goo-goo-ga,” I said gesturing wildly with my hands. “Boo-boo-coo-coo!” Not even my gag could muffle such nonsense.

The two mistress had stopped talking, allowing me to exclaim long and involved monologues.

Finally, while I was in the middle of a long story, that I have no idea what it was about but somehow made complete sense to me, they exchanged a satisfied glance and erected themselves. I saw in a mixture of surprise and elation they were opening my cage.

I also felt annoyance. Hey, I was talking here!

Still, relief won out as they tilted the heavy lid. My desperate urge to pee returned in full force.

The two mistress untied my wrists and ankles, then supported my arms as they helped me up.

Thank you, I wanted to say. Please, Mistress, take me to the toilet.

“Goo-goo. Ga-ga,” I was I really said.

Still, they must have gotten the gist of it. The woman in red lifted my skirt and moved her gloved hand underneath. I mumbled surprised and agitated babbling as I felt a latex clad finger slip underneath my panties and into my diaper.

The blue mistress supported me as the shock of the red one's probing made my legs turn into jelly. My towering heels and monstrous boots didn't help either.

The red mistress withdrew her hand and carefully looked at it. It was dry.

“Boo-boo-ba,” I said. No I didn't come, Mistress. Not this night, anyway. And I certainly didn't wet myself!

“Ta-ta, pee-pee!” I added. ...But I cannot hold myself for much longer!

The two women exchanged a few words, seemed to agree with one another, then helped me step over the edge of the pen. They continued their mysterious chattering, involving me as well. Every time an incomprehensible question was clearly directed at me, I responded with nonsensical baby talk.

Well, not completely nonsensical: “Gu-guh? Goo-ga?” I said complainingly. The two women were escorting me across the room, each one firmly holding one of my hands as they urged me forward. We passes the bathroom's door to and moved towards the baby chair. I was still suffering from the same drowsy-dreaming state I had been experiencing since I woke up, and the chair seemed more than oversized: it was gargantuan, but very far way. It looked menacingly as it came closer.

I continued prattling protests in baby talk as the two women mince-marched me to the baby chair, crossing me immense distance in mere moments. I felt like climbing a mountain when they made me step into it. Efficiency they strapped me in, locked up my feet, reattached the constricting table and hooked my collar to the headrest.

I didn't want to struggle, but my overstretched bladder forced me to wiggle about restlessly. I muttered agitated cooing sounds into my gag as the two women got my breakfast.

Perhaps I should not have been surprised, but I nevertheless uttered a dismayed squeal as they brought another large baby bottle with the green liquid. It seemed to fill the room.

No! No more! I tried to call. “Goo-goo-ga! Beh-bah!” I cried out instead.

The blue mistress lifted up the bottle and aimed the phallic nipple straight for my lips. The red one unbuckled my pacifier. For once I didn't allow it to fall out of my mouth; it was my only defense against that awful bottle! The latex mistress simply pulled it out.

“No, wait!” I called out wailing, trying to regain my focus in the distorted room. I found it difficult to form words, but my urgency gave me strength. “Toilet! Please, I need to pee!”

The red mistress gave an annoyed sigh, then pinched my ear sharply. Pain radiated from my ear and shot though my skin.

“Gah! Ga-ga! Goo-ga,” I began to prattle for some mysterious reason, like the words were getting mumbled in my mouth.

“Goo-ga?” What was I saying? “Ba-ba! Poo-poo-pa-pa?!” I called out in utter disbelief. What was happening?

The two mistress looked at me surprised, then smiled. They were very impressed just how deep I had submerged into my character...

I wobbled in my chair as I babbled nonsensically. My thoughts had become just as jumbled as my words.

The blue mistress brought me back to the here and now, by quickly slipping the bottle home.

I felt the nipple slide between my lips, over my tongue and deep into my mouth. I would have jumped up startled if my chair had allowed. Instead my eyes just registered how the full length of the nipple disappeared underneath my nose.

“Goo! Guh! Muh! Muff! Moo. Boo...” I sputtered, slowly relaxing.

The women in velvet gave me a moment to acclimatize to my situation, then began feeding me. She squeezed the bottle in short pulses, and the filthy liquid began shooting deep into my mouth...

It was just the bottle now. Not dessert, no bowls with yellow stuff, just the green goo.

Halfway down the bottle I had enough. My bladder was full, and they kept on pouring this liquid into me? Heck no! I refused to swallow any more. I couldn't spit it out, courtesy of the phallic nipple, but I let it slowly drip from between my lips.

The two Mistress picked up on this, and discussed the situation. I felt a sense of satisfaction. For all the things they could make me do, they couldn't force me to swallow.

The red mistress wiped my mouth, then placed her finger on my throat, underneath my collar. She began softly rubbing the spot just under my Adam's apple, causing a strange urge. I felt the urge to swallow. I resisted, but the unfamiliar sensation was very persistent. And resistance I was something I was very short on.

I gulped as a mouthful of mush went down my throat. Guess you can force someone to swallow...

After a couple of loads were forced down, I got the message. I finished the bottle without further objection.

After they were done feeding me, the two Mistress placed the gag back in, then untied me from the chair and let me out.

Meekly, obediently, and with a head filled with jumbled thoughts, I let the two women escort me towards the bathroom. Finally...

We entered the tiled room, where pristine white was a slightly less dominant color compared to baby pink, and they placed me before one of the sinks. I saw myself in the mirror, the pink sissy-baby-doll, and how the blue mistress pulled my panties and diaper down to my ankles.

Usually this would horrify me, but with my upper arms still tied doing this myself would be very difficult. And getting to the toilet as soon without delay now was my top priority. I still saw myself blush, though.

I was urged to lean forward, and I groaned as the mistress pulled out my plug. It was still vibrating, but less than before. Clearly the battery was running out.

I didn't need to go 'number two', but I was still thankful for them being so considerate. Being able to pee without that incessant vibration in my rear seemed heavenly.

I wanted to make a step backwards, step out of the panties and diaper resting around my ankles. They stopped me.

“Goo-ga?” I mumbled confused. The two women ignored me. One held on to my arm while the other turned off the vibrating plug and placed it in a small laundry basket of sorts. Then she opened a drawer and took out a fresh one.

“Boo!? Goo! Coo-coo!” I protested as I was forced to lean forward again. The mistress holding the plug applied some lubricant, switched it on, then casually pressed the vibrating penetrator against my sphincter.

The other one held me in place, but didn't bother preventing me to raise my legs and stamp my feet in protest and agitation.

“Goo! Ga! Ba-ba! Moooo!” I called out as the wickedly quivering plug slid home. Only now did I realize how low on power the previous one must have been: compared to that one the new plug to be intent on shaking me apart from the inside.

One of the women stooped down to pull up my diaper and panties, careful to avoid my stamping feet (not that I entertained thoughts of kicking her, but when armed with stiletto heels even a carelessly stomping sissy is potentially lethal).

No! No! “Too-too! Boo-bah!” Not yet! Let me pee first! “Coo-coo-katchoo!” I can't hold it any longer! “Ta-ta-ma, pee-pee!”

The two women took my hands and guided my out of the bathroom, completely ignoring my infantile wailing as they casually chattered. They didn't even mind my attempts to stop in my tracks, shake them of and hurry towards the nearest toilet. But with my weak legs trapped in boots that were bondage made manifest, they only had to cope with some pathetic pulling and tugging. They easily got me back at my playpen.

I resisted, tugged, cooed, pulled, wailed, even cried, but nothing prevented them from putting me back in the tiny cage. Seemingly without effort one mistress slipped one arm behind my leg, the other behind my knees, then lifted me up, legs still kicking in protest. She lowered me into the playpen, in the same position as before. The other quickly got to work reattaching my bonds. Ribbon between my ankles, wrists to the bars.

I fought my bonds, but aside from some clanging louder than the incessant jingling of my earrings, as well as putting unnecessary pressure on my furiously buzzing plug, I got nowhere.

“Goo! Guff! Hurmpf! Hu-Hum! Boof! Boo!” I called out as the heavy lid was closed and locked.

The mistress in violet crouched next to my cage. She reached through the bars and placed Prissy's doll back on my lap, then pinched my cheek affectionately. “Good baby,” she told me smiling. The other one stood back and blew me a kiss. Then the two mistress turned away and walked out of the dormitory, leaving me alone in my absurd playpen, in a room that seemed slightly... off. No company save for the stuffed animals and the plug that almost seemed to be alive.

I kept on resisting, refusing to give them the satisfaction of abasing myself. I don't know for how long, for time works differently when you are fighting desperately from wetting yourself, but it seemed like forever.

And nothing lasts forever; not even iron resolve. Finally the tide found chinks in the dam holding it back, and the floodgates were opened. No, I allowed them to open...

A warm liquid spread across my loins as I abased myself, the diaper unable to deal with the flow.

“Goo! Coo-coo!” I cried in humiliated frustration as I struggled inside my playpen. “Boof! Ba-ba-ti-boo!”

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

With hindsight I've come to realize there was a fiendish system in my training, but at the time there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the seemingly arbitrary tribulations I was being put through. One moment I was still stirring in my own juices for goodness knows how long (or short; time seems so relative when you are stuffed in a tiny playpen wearing a soiled diaper), the next I heard a group of high heels click as they approached the dormitory. It wasn't the rapid clicking of short mincing steps typical of sissies, but the long powerful strides of dominant women. It sounded like trouble.

I struggled in my pen. In vain of course, but I simply couldn't suppress the urge to run and hide. The realization a bunch of mistresses was about to learn I had wet myself gave me second wind, even if it only resulted in some token resistance.

My illustrated sister who urged me to 'think pink' flew to the side as the door was thrown open. Seven Mistresses-in-Training from various houses stepped inside. They were chatting among themselves, then fell silent as they looked at me.

The room was quiet for a moment as the women took in my sight. I could do nothing but look back in dismay, my bonds softly jingling as my arms and legs hadn't quite realized it was much too little far too late.

It was me who broke the silence: “Goo-ga...” I mumbled for no particular reason.

Roaring laughter burst out from my audience. I was not an act; clearly these women had never seen such a pathetic sight as Cheryl Pink Panties in her tiny playpen. I almost fainted from the utter humiliation of it all.

Laughing, giggling, chattering, the women rushed up to my prison. Gone was their powerful gait: they were almost skipping from delight. They surrounded my prison, crouching next to me. They were talking to me, but I couldn't understand a word they were saying. I wasn't even sure they were all speaking the same language; I heard some words that were clearly German, others that were probably French, perhaps even Italian.

Not that they could understand me, of course. I could only manage to get some incomprehensible baby-talk past my pacifier as I struggled in my pen.

Another delighted squeal from my audience. Hands reached into my prison to pinch my cheek, pat my head or tickle me. I tried to avoid these grasping claws, but in my tiny prison the best I could do was muttering cute baby-talk in protest while wiggling dinky as the women teased me relentlessly.

Eventually the novelty began to wear off. The laughing died down as the hands withdrew. After this assault on my senses (not to mention my body) I began to recognize individual faces and voices.

Most of the women I had never met before, but two of them I recognized. The first was Mistress Anna Black, the beauty who had led me across the dance floor just yesterday. I looked at her as she talked with one of her colleagues, her long hair falling across her shoulders like a golden waterfall. She glanced in my direction and caught my stare.

She gave me a stern look, with no sign that she even recognized me. Her chilly eyes frightened me and I turned away.

I guess I should have been glad: my abased state was bad enough as it was, having the girl of my dreams recognize me instead of enduring it in anonymity would certainly be worse.

Still, I mainly felt hurt. And loss. She certainly had made quite an impression on me, but clearly I was very easily forgotten. And why wouldn't I be? She was a radiant beauty while I was a pathetic sissy in a soiled nappy. Her being out of my league was an immense understatement.

I felt tears on my cheeks. Tears had been running down since the laughing started, my dread and humiliation their source. But these tears were different: caused by heartache.

I summoned the courage to look at Mistress Anna again, and saw she was still observing me. Her cold stare chilling me to the bone.

Then she corner of her mouth turned upward. She smiled. Not the mocking smile of a Mistress, but the warm smile of the young woman I had danced with. Then she winked at me, and suddenly her eyes sparkled, betraying the giddy enthusiasm behind her stern facade.

'Nice seeing you again, cutie,' I imagined reading in her pretty eyes. 'Oh Cheryl, what on earth have you gotten yourself into?'

I blushed. I had probably been blushing out of pure humiliation for a while now, but this was different. It was a shy blush. I shrugged and mumbled some baby-talk into my pacifier, as if I wanted to say: 'Sorry, Mistress. But I wasn't given much choice.'

I was probably imagining things, but she seemed to understand. She gave me an emphatic nod. Then her cold haughtiness returned as she donned the mantle of a dominant, ending our private interaction.

But it was enough. She had recognized me. And despite my abased state, she didn't condemn me, for which I loved her.

She was way out of my league, for sure, but a women like her can claim anyone from any league, anytime. Maybe, just maybe, one day she'd claim me, I mused.

A voice cut through the random chatter and the Mistresses turned towards its source. I followed their gaze, recognizing the speaker. It was Mistress Désirée, who Tabitha had warned me about. The one who was member of these so-called 'Black Cloaks'.

She addressed her colleagues in an authoritative tone. Though really a student herself, she clearly had a position of power among her peers. I didn't understand her, but two other dominants nodded and turned towards my pen.

They unlocked my prison and lifted the heavy lid. Though glad that I was apparently being released, as the women looked down at me with an eager smirk, I wondered if I wasn't going from the frying pan into the fire.

Whatever they were planning, they didn't bother telling me. They just unshackled my wrists and ankles and helped me out of the pen. They were nice enough to offer me support as I was very weak in my legs. Thankfully, the vibrator had mostly ran out of juice; its stimulation had receded to an annoying drone in my nether regions.

The women formed a circle around me, looking me up and down. I felt very uncomfortable to be the center of their attention, being particularly self-conscious of the fact that I was wearing a soiled diaper. Something they were aware of, I was certain. The mocking grins that pushed through their stern facades proved it. Or was it just my ridiculous pink outfit?

It didn't matter, I knew what they were waiting for. So I bobbed a very proper curtsy for these dominants.

They didn't acknowledge my greeting. Several women looked at Mistress Désirée, who didn’t look back at them. She just gave a slight nod while keeping her eyes on me. Without a word the other women widened the circle, leaving me alone with Miss Désirée at the center.

With the grace of a feline and smile of a hungry attack dog, the black clad mistress stepped forward. Her hands rested on her hips, accentuating her seductive sway. Two fingers on her left hand casually played with a small crop, giving the curious impression of her wagging her tail.

Demurely, I avoided her gaze. I simply looked at her jet-black boots as they approached me, cleaned to such a shine I saw lights being reflected. I doubted she had cleaned them herself…

Despite my awful heels, I didn’t move at all. I remained frozen in my proper sissy-stance. A shadow fell over me. Still looking down, I saw Mistress Désirée’s boots were now almost touching mine. I felt her slow breath caress my face, a touch of fresh mint sweetening the air.

A well-manicured hand appeared in my field of vision, and delicate fingers touched the bottom of my chin, gently tilting my head backwards; forcing me to look at her.

Her brown eyes looked deeply into mine. They were as beautiful as the rest of her, but promised not a shred of empathy.

“I told you we’d be seeing each other again very soon, didn’t I?” She said sweetly, with menace oozing from every word.

“Yuff. Mufruff,” I replied, forgetting the pacifier still wedged in my mouth.

Long nails bored painfully into my skin as she pinched me. “What’s that, baby-girl?” she asked menacingly.

I yelp under her merciless touch, then uttered some nonsensical babytalk, my gag making it even more unintelligible than it already was.

“Very good,” she said softly, releasing her grip.

“You have no idea how difficult it was for me to acquire this particular shift,” she told me as her nose was a hair’s-width removed from mine. “They are very popular among the Teaching Assistants. Especially when such a cute tihng as yourself is involved. I had to trade away three of my own shifts. I hope you appreciate the sacrifice I had to make for you.”

I mumbled some ‘goo-goos’ and ‘ga-gas’ into my gag in affirmation, but my heart would have preferred anyone but this leather clad fiend. Not that I was in any position to argue, of course.

Still smiling, she let go of my chin. Stepping back, her painted talons gently stroked my skin as her hand went down to my collar.

A shock went through my neck, Mistress Désirée suddenly pulling hard on my leash. I felt myself being pulled off-balance.

I screamed into my pacifier as I fell forward. With my elbows bound by that dreadful ribbon, there was little I could do but flap my hands in dismay. As the world tilted around me, I stepped my left foot forward in panic. Then the chain locking my ankles was pulled taut and I made everything worse, pulling the right one from under me. If the boot wasn’t that rigid, I would have snapped my ankle and immediately crashed onto the ground. Instead I was just tipping over in a nice curve, flapping my arms and screaming smothered cries as I went.

I felt an impact around my torso, and suddenly the world twisted and turned around me. For a moment, I thought I had hit the ground, but then I felt the arm that has arrested my fall, holding me tight. Through the blur of my confusion a saw Mistress Désirée looking down on me, a smirk on her face.

“Whoa, there, baby-girl,” she said tauntingly, pulling me close against her “Watch your step, we wouldn’t want you to get hurt, now would we?”

I wouldn’t be any danger if it wasn’t for you! I thought rebelliously. But since I was still tied up and her embrace as the only thing preventing me from a painful drop, I thought better than to press the issue.

Another frightened yelp; my feet were suddenly lifted off the ground, and Mistress Désirée now carried me in her arms like a frightened babe.

“Mon Dieu, what have they… ugh... been feeding you, girl?” Mistress Désirée said strained.

This made the other Mistresses laugh, though I was closer to crying. Realizing this woman, who wasn’t some big hulking brute like Frau Ochsenhorn, somehow managed to carry me… Yes, it was taxing for her, but still… I was genetically still a man. When did I become petite? What had they been feeding me?

Mistress Désirée interrupted my musings, putting me back on my heels.

“On your feet, baby-girl. We’ve got work to do. Turn around. Show me your panties.”

Still a bit dazed, but drilled to perfection, I turned on my heels, bent over and lifted my skirt. Then I realized I was looking straight at Mistress Anna Black, standing daintily in her own black leather uniform. She looked at me sternly, whatever warmth she normally radiated blocked by a cold exterior. It made me blush. Well, blush even more. Her opinion mattered double to me. Her seeing me like this was…

Twack! The sound of a crop rang out like a gunshot. I felt something ice cold touch my behind, following by fire.

“Gguff!” I cried out, almost tripping over my ankle ribbon when I hopped involuntarily.

“Pay attention, Cheryl Pink Panties!” Mistress Désirée snapped at me. “You can daydream about Anna’s cock in your mouth on your own time. We’ve got work to to.”

This made the other women laugh, but Mistress Anna shot Mistress Désirée a venomous look. “Very funny, Des,” she added icily.

Suddenly the laughter subsided. The other women looked back and forth between Mistress Anna and Désirée.

“That is ‘Miss Black’ to you, Newbie,” Mistress Désirée replied just as chilly. “Don’t forget I am your superior...”

“Damen, nicht vor den Tunte!” one of the other women said softly, but very insistently. As if I shouldn’t hear what she was saying. Not that I understood her, of course.

The two mistresses broke eye contact. “Right...” Miss Désirée said aggravated.

Then her tone changed. “Anna, it seems little Cheryl has the hots for you, “ Désirée said with mock friendliness. “would you be so kind as to prepare the pinkie for me?”

“I’d be delighted,” the golden-haired beauty spoke, though her eyes said something else entirely.

She walked up to me, and without a word grabbed my leash and turned me to the right. “This way, sissy,” she said sternly.

Another tug told me to move, and hobbled by my outfit I struggled to follow. Mistress Désirée began addressing the other women in German while I was led towards the bathroom.

Still holding my leash, Mistress Anna urged me inside, then closed the door behind me.

For a moment, she listened at the door, as if to make sure Mistress Désirée wouldn’t disturb us.

A frown appeared on her face. “What a bitch,” she said under her voice.

I couldn’t agree more, but my gag smothered any affirmation.

She turned towards me, her frown turning upside-down.

“Hey Cheryl,” she said softly. “they put you through quite the wringer, haven’t they?”

I nodded. But I admit her smile lightened my mood.

“I fear you’re not done yet, girl” she said in a regretful tone. “Just hold tight.”

Ï mumbled something in my gag. ‘Hold tight’ was an apt choice of words: between my corset, collar, boots and bonds, I was being held very tightly indeed.

“Here,” she said, reaching around my head. I felt her hands fumble with the buckle of my pacifier, then the phallic intruded slipped out of my mouth.

Suddenly released of the tang of rubber and silicone, I noticed how stiff my jaw had become.

“...fank you,” I said as I tried to relax my muscles.

Anna shot me an angry look “Shush,” she reprimanded. “I'm not supposed to talk to you. If Désirée hears you, we’ll both be in a lot of trouble.”

I was about to stutter an apology, but her insistent gaze shut me up.

“Turn around,” she said. Ordered, really. I turned daintily on my heels.

“Let’s get these off you,” Mistress Anna said as she began fiddling with my bonds.

“Mistress? Is that wise?” I asked under my breath. “I’d be out of uniform.“

I could hardly believe I was actually suggesting to be kept tied up, but I dreaded the consequences if Mistress Désirée would see me without my bonds.

She uttered a girlish giggle. “You are in your dorm, silly. You don’t have to be in uniform now.”

“Oh...” I said very relieved.

Anna untied my elbows. “...Besides, we cannot change your diaper tied up like this.”

“Wha.. What!?” I stammered, trying to turn around and face the Mistress, almost tripping over the ribbon between my ankles.

“Hey? Don’t move!” Mistress Anna cried out. She grabbed my leash and pulled me towards her, making me stumble into her arms.

With her free hand she took hold of my hair, and pulled my head backwards, forcing me to look up to her.

She shot a quick glance at the door to the dorm-room, making sure no-one overheard us, then looked me in the eyes, sternly.

“Listen very carefully, Cheryl. I like you. But if you get me into trouble, Désirée will be the least of your problems,” she said as she tightened her grip on my hair. “That haughty skank is just waiting for me to fail and snitch on me. I am not going to be expelled for being incompetent or weak-hearted, understood?”

I didn’t blink, let alone nod, frozen as I was in under gaze. Was this the same girl who was apologizing to me for stepping on my toes the day before?

She didn’t await my response; she simply let go and continued untying me. Then she took my hand and dragged me behind her. “This way,” she simply said.

Skittering in my heels, she led me up to a cabinet on the other side of the bathroom.

She laid her hand on its handle, then looked at me. Her stern gaze seemed to evaporate, then and there. For a moment, I saw the same sweet girl that I met yesterday. “Just… Try to relax. It’s nothing personal.” she said conflicted as she opened the cabinet.

My heart sank.

“Let’s do this quickly,” Mistress Anna spoke as she took out the first item.

I couldn’t control myself. “You said I wouldn’t be tied up!” I cried.

On her face, annoyance mixed with reluctance. “I said you couldn’t be changed tied up like that. This course is for us to learn how to safely and efficiently clean a rebellious sissy by completely immobilizing her,” she spoke as she took out a pair of arm-binders.

“I’m not rebellious!” I said indignant. And frightened.

“Sounds to me you are,” she said as she loosened the straps. “Not that it matters. Someone much more important than me marked you as a ‘Bondage Babe’, which means we may… well, ‘must’ really… tie you up completely even during routine assignments.”

“But...”

“Enough, sissy,” Mistress Anna spoke. “Let’s get this over with. Give my your hand.”

My mind drew a blank, but my body reacted obediently. I could only watch as the fair-haired beauty slipped the tick leather glove over my hand and up my arm. Only when the glove had been pulled up to my arm pit did my hand each the mitten on the other end.

Mistress Anna pulled the straps, tightening the glove around my arm. She repeated the procedure with my other arm.

“Turn around,” she said.

I did, and could only gasp as she took my two encased arms and pulled them behind me. I knew she was pulling the two ends of the zipper towards each other, and when I heard the ‘r-r-r-r’’ sound, it was clear she had succeeded.

As she zipped me up, first my wrist were pulled together, followed by my lower arms and elbows. By the time she reached my upper arms it had become quite uncomfortable. When she was done, the strain on my shoulders seemed agonizing.

“Mistress, it’s too tight. I can’t...” I uttered.

“You must.” She replied, getting out the next item. I guess it was supposed to be a posture collar, but it was so high and thick it looked more like a leather-clad stove-pipe. The collar I was carrying as part of my uniform seemed positively tiny.

After removing the latter, Anna had a hell of a time getting it on. It was so rigid she grunted with the effort to pull the back apart and fit it around my neck. When she relaxed her grip, the material wrapped itself around me as it fell back into its normal shape. It almost seemed redundant to close the clasps afterwards.

The collar covered my neck from shoulders to chin, forcing me to look up. I didn’t understand why, but didn’t dare ask.

Mistress gave me a soft push, forcing me to make two steps forward.

Only able to look up, I couldn’t miss the large ring hanging from the ceiling. I didn’t see what Anna was doing near my feet, but I heard the jingling of chains. I felt some fiddling around my left ankle, then she pull a chain down and taut. When she let go, I still felt the downward force and knew she had connected a D-ring on my boot to some hook on the floor. She repeated the process with my right leg, locking me in place.

My back was turned towards Mistress Anna, so I couldn’t see what she was doing, but involved another chain. Apparently, it was difficult; she uttered some annoyed curses in-between the jingling of the chain.

A satisfied grunt signaled she had finally succeeded, and stepped up behind me. A long pole appeared in my field of view above me.

One end held the chain, which the pole directed towards the ring in the ceiling. After several attempt the chain fell through the ring and could be pulled down.

I didn’t feel much through the tick leather of the armbinder, but it was hard to miss that Mistress Anna connected the chain to its end.

“Attention, Cheryl,” she said. “This may be... a bit uncomfortable...”

Behind me, she pulled the other end of the chain, forcing my hands towards the ring in the ceiling. I squealed as my strained muscles were tormented even further.

As my arms were forced in a direction not meant by nature, my torso compensated by bending over. Only when my torso was horizontal, with my behind sticking out nicely, did Anna stop pulling. Now the collar forced my gaze level with the floor.

“Just one more thing, Cheryl,” Mistress Anna told me reassuringly. She stepped into my field of vision.

“Mistress… I cannot… It is too tight…” I grunted.

She looked at me emphatically. Then smiled warmly.

“You are doing great, girl. Just hang on. Keep your chin up.”

“I kind of have to, Mistress,” I said with an ironic sense of self-deprecating humor. For some reason, her poor choice of words was actually quite funny.

It made her giggle, and mirth radiated form her eyes. She gave me a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Now relax, let me get this on you.”

She held up a ring, with straps on either side. I didn’t know what it was at first, when she put it in my mouth I realized it was another gag.

While she fastened the clasp at the back of my head, my mind tried to figure out the purpose of this item.

It didn’t muffle me as thoroughly as my pacifier or any other gag, but did force my mouth wide open.

Oh my god! They were going to put things in my mouth, weren’t they? I had a dread vision of these Mistresses taking turns penetrating my mouth with all kinds of phallic items.

Mistress Anna seemed to have read my mind (or at least understood my frightened mutters).

“Don’t worry, Cheryl. We need to check your teeth, that is all,” she said as she finished securing the ring. “Aside from the diaper change, you are getting a physical examination. Just making sure you remain healthy.”

Her face appeared right in front of mine. “That’s it, cutie. I’m going to get the others,” she said with a smile.

I wanted to mutter some half-hearted affirmation, but she didn’t give me the chance: she leaned forward, and opened her mouth. I felt her lips touch mine. For a moment I was stunned in surprise, but then her tongue enter my mouth, worked its way past the ring gag and reached mine.

I could only sigh as she kissed me passionately, for a moment that lasted both eternally and much too short. Then she withdrew herself, smiled and walked over to the door to the dorm-room.

She called out into the other room. “Désirée? ‘Miss Black’, I mean. She is ready for you.”

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

The diaper change was as uncomfortable and humiliating as I had feared.

The women entered the bathroom quietly, but burst out whooping and hollering as they saw me in my new predicament.

Immediately I was the center of attention, and the Mistresses gladly took advantage of my vulnerability. They smacked my bottom. Stroked the insides of my legs, all the way up. Two stuck their tongue deep into my defenseless mouth.

Mistress Désirée let them have their fun, then silenced them with a curt command. She began speaking in German.

I had no idea what she was saying, but obviously I was the subject. She often tapped me with her crop to underline her words. My bottom was an important subject, but I felt its malicious touch all over my body.

Speaking of malicious… In between taps, the tip of the crop moved subtly up and down my groin, softly stroking my clitty. It had no purpose other than to teasingly arouse me, And damn that woman, she succeeded.

A sharp sting set fire to my behind, making me groan.

“Enough theory,” Mistress Désirée said. “Time for practice. Brenda, you go first.”

One of the Mistress stepped forward, smiling wickedly as she slipped on a pair of cleaning gloves. She walked past me, her hand stroking me from my crown, across my back down to my behind. Her colleagues giggled in approval.

“Save the theatrics for another time, Brenda,” Mistress Désirée admonished. “We are late. Get on with it.”

“Spoilsport,” the Mistress named Brenda spoke. Then she went to work.

Taking position behind me, her hands slipped underneath my skirt. Despite Désirée’s urging, she took her time. Fingers wormed their way into my panties, making me grunt. Then she pulled the fabric down, and I felt the satin slip down my thighs. She let go, and gravity took over; making my knickers fall around my shackled ankles.

The diaper was next. I was blushing furiously, feeling ever so self-conscious as this woman stripped me down. Finally being rid of my soiled nappy was but a small comfort.

She undid the adhesive tape, and pulled it away. Now I could feel the air move between my legs.

I gave a surprised yelp, as I felt her fingers probe the edges of the plug that was still invading me. She took hold, and pulled back.

I groaned as the shaft slid out of my behind, a shudder going down my spine. I half-heard a ‘plop’ as the tip was pulled out.

But that wasn’t the end of it. The Mistress called Brenda produced some wet-wipes, and began cleaning my nether regions. She meticulously wiped my butt-crack, causing me to pull my bonds in dismay. If my feet hadn’t been locked to the floor, I would have frantically kicked my legs the moment she began oiling my butt around (and in!) my sissy-hole.

But even that was nothing compared to the humiliation of her cleaning my clitty. She couldn’t help snigger as her rubbing got me excited, and she spent an unreasonable amount of time moving a wash cloth up and down my hard clitty.

I was almost thankful that she began dressing me again. Almost, because it included putting the plug back in. She hadn’t turned it on, but I nevertheless squirmed as it push aside my sphincter. As it entered me, I felt its ribbed texture electrify my senses, and I couldn’t help moan. Much to the delight of my audience, I might add.

Then came the weirdest part. She was handed some metal contraption. With my head locked in position by my collar, I couldn’t get a good look at it, but it seemed like a strange collection of rings. Brenda clearly recognized it, as she gave a delighted giggle when she fiddled with it.

Before my mind had processed this information, she took up position behind me, and I felt a ring being placed around my excited clitty, followed by a tightening around the base of the shaft. Then cold iron was wrapped around my sissy bells. Something snapped shut, and as Mistress Brenda got up, I felt how my sissy parts being encased in tight metal.

They didn’t bother explaining it to me, but I quickly learned it was yet another tool to frustrate poor little sissies. It didn’t obstruct me in my daily routine; I could go to the toilet for example. Nor did it prevent me from getting excited. Quite the opposite… The tight rings kept the blood in my clitty well after any stimuli had stopped exciting me, causing me to spend much of my day dealing with a raging hard-on.

Still trying to wrap my head around this new experience, I barely noticed how Mistress Brenda replaced my diaper, followed by my panties.

Despite not doing much myself, I was panting. I felt my clitty throb in my panties, and even if I could not see it, I knew it was sticking out like a tent pole. I could do little to vent mu frustration but groan and pull my bonds.

But at least it was now over.

“Not bad Brenda,” Mistress Désirée said. “But don’t forget to put lotion on her groin too. Patricia, you’re next.”

What?!

“Show me how you’d clean a sissy,” the leather clad woman said stoically.

“I’d love to,” another Mistress spoke.

“Nah ahain! Pheah!” I managed to utter through the ring in my mouth. I tried to get up, but my strained arms allowed no leeway.

Mistress Désirée didn’t even look up. “Don’t mind Cheryl. She is not going anywhere. But you are welcome to borrow my crop if you want to pacify her.”

“No need,” the other Mistress said grinning. “I know a trick or two myself.“

She slipped on a pair of gloves. “I would have said ‘assume the position’, but that would be kind of redundant. Isn’t that right, Cheryl Pink Panties?” she said as she took up station behind me.

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

Mistress Anna was the last one in the queue. Contrary to the other Mistresses, she wasn’t all that elated to change my diaper yet again. But what she lacked in enthusiasm, she made up with stern pragmatism.

“Done,” she told Mistress Désirée as she pulled up my panties.

I couldn’t see Mistress Désirée’s voice, but I imagined there was an annoyed frown on her face. She didn’t even bother to acknowledge Anna’s accomplishment.

“Now pay attention all. I will show you how perform a quick physical on a sissy,” Mistress Désirée said as she walked up to me. “It is no substitute for a visit to the doctor, of course, but if you follow this procedure, you will prevent most of the common ailments that tend to plague a sissy. Perform it often, and you will get much more mileage out of your girl.“

My mind was still fuzzy of the string of diaper changes (not to mention my frustratingly excited clitty), so I was not prepared for what came next.

Even so, having a bar of soap shoved in my mouth was probably the last thing I expected.

“Washing out a sissy’s potty mouth is not just a good discipline tool; if you use soap of the correct formula, it works wonders to prevent tooth decay. It even soothes the numbness of wearing a gag for prolonged periods.”

I bucked in my bondage, trying to get my mouth away from the green bar lodged between my lips. But with my arms stretched upward and my neck fixated by my collar, Mistress Désirée had to do little more than apply some pressure.

“Of course, soap doesn’t taste good, so your sissy might need some encouraging to take her medicine.”

She placed her hand over my mouth, ensuring the bar remained all the way in, and continued with her lesson.

“Next, we take care of her legs and feet,” she said as she ignored the foam dripping from her hand. “Though our sissies just love their heels, mincing about in stilettos all the time does take its toll. Fortunately, regular massaging, together with the ample application of tiger balm is enough to avoid most symptoms.”

“How often do we need to massage our girls?” the mistress called Brenda asked.

Mistress Désirée barked a mocking laugh. “You don’t do any massaging, of course! Your sissy should do that herself. It just that… hold still Cheryl… Cheryl! Be quiet, sissy! Brenda, give me a hand here. Five lashes... Four… Five... That’s better. Where was I? O yes, it is useful to know how to do it yourself, in case your sissy is a bit unruly.”

“First, make sure your little faggot is secure.” With her free hand she playfully tapped my behind. “We already got that part covered.” An amused laugh went through her audience.

Mistress Désirée explained the techniques to relax my muscles, without undressing or even untying me. While she kept her hand on my foaming mouth, she directed her students to rub and salve various points on my body. One pair of hands unzipped my boots down to my calves and began pushing their thumbs deep into my leg muscles. I would have jumped up if my ankles weren’t still tied down; such was the fire that shot through my legs. I cried into the soap bar for her to stop, bubbles forming between Mistress Désirée’s fingers, but she kept on rubbing. Afterwards, I was glad she did, since my legs actually felt much more relaxed. But at that very moment, it was agony.

One mistress massaged the small of my back, a traditional sore spot for women who wear heels far too often, and applied a liberal amount of balm. It simultaneously felt cold, hot and electrifying.

They worked on much more than just my legs, and even my tortured arms were serviced, without loosening the chain even for a moment.

And all the while, my locked clitty refused to relax…

Slowly, the number of hands on my body became less and less, until even the one covering my mouth was retracted. What remained of the soap bar (much had already been dissolved by my saliva) slipped through the ring and fell on the ground.

A Mistress whose name escaped me unbuckled my gag, and offered me some water so rinse my mouth. I hated to say it, but my mouth did feel very clean.

The chain was lowered and my collar was removed (and replaced with my regular one).

I was allow to stand, but the moment I managed to remain upright unaided, I was accosted by lipstick, blush, hairspray and perfume. My time in the pen, not to mention my diaper changes, had ruffled my appearance and I was assaulted by this pack of women who were determined to restore my ultra-femininity.

When this circle of she-wolves withdrew, a picture perfect, dainty and surprisingly refreshed sissy was standing in their midst. To this day I don’t know exactly what happened; like I had been sucked up by a tornado of femininity and spit out fully frilled.

“That concludes today’s lesson,” Mistress Désirée told her colleagues.

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

Mistress Désirée shook hands with a the other Mistresses, who thanked her for both an informative lesson and wonderful spectacle. For each I performed a curtsy as they left the dorm room. Two give me a kiss on the cheek. Another me full on the lips.

Last one to leave was Anna. “You’re not coming, Désirée? I mean, Miss Black.”

She shot Mistress Anna an annoyed look. “No. Cheryl and me have some… evaluation… to do.”

Anna answered her gaze with matching hostility. “Why don’t you just leave her be? Cheryl’s been through enough. She needs to rest. Besides, you know the rules; no messing about in the girl’s dorm rooms.”

“Get lost newbie,” Désirée sneered as she viciously pulled my leash, eliciting a shocked yelp. “Your performance has already been dismal these last couple of days. Don’t make it any worse.”

Mistress Anna’s eyes shot fire. “That a lie and you know it!“

Miss Désirée’s smiled, but it was as cold as a glacier. “So? The staff would believe me. They always do. Want me to tattle on you?”

“You wouldn’t!” Anna said defiantly, but even I could hear the doubt in her voice.

“Try me...” Mistress Désirée replied tauntingly. It oozed with implied threat.

Mistress Anna gave her senior counterpart a hard look, but eventually turned away first.

She smiled warmly as she addressed me. “Thank you for the demonstration, Cheryl. You were great. You should feel proud of yourself.”

I felt a lot of things, and ‘proud’ was not exactly one of them. But the moment she mentioned it, I actually began feeling proud. I blushed prettily as I curtsied for her deeply.

She put her hand underneath my chin, and gently urged me to look into her smiling face. She leaned in to give me a short peck on the cheek.

A painful jolt went through my body, radiating from my neck. I barely registered how Mistress Désirée had viciously tugged my leash, pulling me away from mistress Anna an into her cold embrace.

She pulled my head against her ample bosom, one hand on my head and the other around my waist. It was a possessive embrace, and utterly devoid of affection.

“I told you to get lost, Anna,” Mistress Désirée said. Her fingers took hold of my earlobe, and slowly began pushing into the flesh. I was too dismayed to cry or scream, but a scared groan escaped my lips. “Now.”

Mistress Anna’s eyes shot from Désirée to me and back again. I could almost hear her grind her teeth. Then she nodded and turned away. As she left the room, the door with my illustrated sister who urged me to ‘think pink’ slammed shut. To me it seemed like a stone tomb had been sealed around me.

I was buried alive, together a dangerous serpent.

Chapter 27: Bullies, besties and everything in-between. The complex social life of sissy school.

Mistress Desiree let go of me, but held on the my leash. Her hand went up the cord, until she was holding it inches from the ring in my collar. She gave it a sharp tug, making me yelp. She pulled my face close to hers.

Our noses were almost touching as she looked deep into my eyes.

“Now then, what should I do with you?” I her her say.

I felt the implied threat hidden in those words, and made my knees turn weak.

My mind drew a blank. I don’t know if she expected a response, but I felt the need to say something. Anything.

“Goo… Ga-ga...” I stammered.

A mean slap on my cheek shut me up.

“We are done with that nonsense,” she told me annoyed. “Try to keep up, girl.”

Now my mind went into overdrive, trying to adept to this change, but remained utterly clueless. Fortunately, my body responded before hesitation could cause offense.

I performed a respectful curtsy (as much as was possible with her holding my leash taut, anyway). “I’m sorry Mistress. I wasn’t thinking.”

A smile appeared on her face. It was a cold smile, but all things considered an improvement.

“Of course you weren’t. Tell me something I don’t know.” She slackened her grip on my leash.

I assumed she meant that rhetorically, but her eyebrow was raised in anticipation. “Well?”

“Mistress?… Er… I… Ehm...” I stuttered.

She snorted, half-amused, half-contemptuous. “I’ll make it easy for you, dumb-dumb: what should I do with you… to you… right now?”

I muttered something confused before the perfect reply passed my lips: “Er… evaluate the course, Mistress?”

She grinned wickedly. “Interesting option, but I have a counter-proposal: I sodomize you until you cry, and then I continue until you can’t even walk anymore. How does that sound?”

“Mistress? What…?” I gasped startled. “You can’t be serious! You can’t do this!”

“Watch your tone, pinkie,” she admonished. “You have sexy voice, and I’d love to hear you squeal, but don’t presume to tell me what I can and cannot do.” She ran one finger underneath the strap of my gag, that dangled on my chest as an abominable necklace.

I got the message. I still mouthed some protests, but managed to swallow any actual sounds.

“Now then, shall we,” she said with feigned affability, pointing towards the nearest bed.

I hesitated, until a jerk on my leash got me moving.

“...You didn’t bring a strapon,” I said softly. I was clinging at straws here.

She barked a mean laugh. “So what? In this room alone I see a seven things I could stick up that tight little hole of yours.” She look over her shoulder, and her smile frightened me. “Not sure if it will still be tight afterwards, though.

We came up to the side of the bed. With her free hand, Mistress Desiree pulled back the sheets. Her grip on my leash diminished.

I looked across the room, and saw all kinds of items that I imagined this wicked woman would put inside of me.

I was suddenly gripped by panic. Without thinking things through, I turned and ran. A jolt around my neck signified I managed to dislodge the leash from Mistress Desiree’s grip.

“What the…? Cheryl! Come here, sissy!” Mistress Desiree shouted.

I didn’t listen. I really didn’t listen. My weak will couldn’t disobey a direct order, so I somehow pretended not to have heard it. My whole mind was focused on the illustrated painted sissy on exit.

I skittered across the dormitory, my heels clicking with every step. The painting became larger, but it felt it was lightyears removed. The heels, the ribbon tying them together, they made my steps so tiny. I flapped my hands as if I tried to take flight.

I didn’t get far. Even in her own heels Mistres Desiree covered the distance before I was half-way. She grabbed my hand, twirled me around, then pushed my wrist against my back in a painful lock.

The cuffs around the ear didn’t really bother me. The sight of the prepared bed, growing to abominable proportions as I was led towards it however, did. I started to cry.

“Please, Mistress Desiree. Please,” I grovelled. “Don’t do this.”

Mistress Desiree seemed very upbeat despite my serious breach of discipline, “Don’t be such a crybaby, Cheryl. Your owner,.. Christina Jaeger wasn’t it? ...She must have fucked you silly before.”

“That was different!” I said sobbing “She loves me!”

She did. She had to. It was the one hope I desperately clinged to. That she had simply traded me away to awful Miss Rosenberg, I preferred to forget.

“Love?” she said incredulous. “Oh, silly goose. Are you really telling me she stole your manhood out of love?”

I couldn’t think of an apt response.

“No my dear, it was about sex. Everything is about sex.” She released her grip on my hand, and turned me around, pulling me tightly against her.

Then, to my complete surprise, kissed me on the mouth. Deep and passionate.

“Except for sex. Sex is about power,” she said with a haughty grin.

“Wh… Wha… P… Power?!” I stammered. “You kissed me… because of power?”

She gave an amused shrug.

“I… I don’t believe that.” I said quivering. “You cannot kiss someone like that and feel nothing.”

Did I just sound like some overly romantic schoolgirl?

Mistress Desiree, eased her grip on me, an intrigued look on her face.

“Is that so? Tell me Cheryl; what did you feel when we kissed? Love?”

Her eyes narrowed? “Hate? Be honest... I’ll know if you are lying.”

I felt like her eyes impaled me.

Slowly, hesitantly, I nodded. “I hate you...” I whimpered.

My answer didn’t offend her. She just gave a wry smile. She had been vindicated.

He hands went towards my neck, grabbing the straps of the pacifier. “Enough talk, girl. Let’s get down to business.

Time seemed to slow down, and I saw the phallus approach my mouth as if in a crawl.

“I hate hating you!” I unexpectedly blurted out.

The gag stopped moving, the tip almost touching my lips. Mistress Desiree looked at me quizzically, but didn’t lower the gag. This better be good, sissy, it seemed to signify.

Eyes wide, radiating sorrow and regret (and no small amount of fear), I looked up to her. “I don’t want to hate you. I want to… love you. I can learn to love you.”

She lowered the gag a few inches. “Is that so?” she asked, clearly unconvinced. “Just like that?”

I shook my head. “No… No… It will be hard. But reality is… malleable. They said as much during my class on ‘sissythink’.”

My hand went up her arm. The fingers of my glove gently touched hers.

I looked away shyly. “If you pretend to be something hard enough... they say... you become it.

My arms were still bound at the elbows, but she had lowered hers far enough for me hold her hand. Even through two layers of patent leather did they feel warm.

I blushed as I looked up to her. “Can’t we… try? I can be… what you want me to be.”

I leaned into her. “I can love you… Can you… Love me?”

I felt her arms around me. The grip was still firm, but much more gentle.

I couldn’t embrace her in the same way, but I managed to put my arms on her hips. It reminded me that Mistress Desiree was a truly beautiful woman.

And then I kissed her.

It was a bashful kiss, of a shy girl, but a kiss nonetheless. It surprised Mistress Desiree, but she didn’t refuse it. She answered with passion.

I felt Mistress’ hands on my body, but I hardly noticed. Only when I was lifted into the air did I give a surprised squeal.

Mistress Desiree laid me down on the bed like a maiden, then slipped into bed next to me. Her eager tongue quickly went between my welcoming lips.

Burden with my shackles, I couldn’t touch her the way I wanted to. Her touch was intoxicating, though, and I was more than happy with my passive role. I squealed as her hands probed my skin. I whimpered excitedly as her fingers ran up the inside on my legs, all the way to my groin.

And her hands were impatient too, so much so I feared so was about to rip my dress off my body. Fortunately, she managed to unzip me, and pulled the top of my dress down to my underbust corset, revealing my bra. She didn’t waste time undoing the fastener: she just pulled the straps over my shoulders and then the entire garment went down.

If she even noticed my breasts were false, still as firmly attached as the day they were glued on, she didn’t seem to mind: she squeezed and massaged them like they were the real deal.

But my clitty was of most interest to her. Still locked in the reverse-chastity device, it was throbbing with excitement. After she pulled down my diaper and panties, it peeked out from under my dress like a shy animal. It made her giggle.

As she began playing with it, I squirmed under her touch. This really pleased her. I don’t know if my naive speech on love had even resonated with her, but she sure loved power and making a puppet dance by moving a single string was almost as intoxicating to her as it was to me.

She took her time, making sure I never climaxed. And all the while I was as wax in her hands. When her thumb entered my mouth I didn’t complain. I didn’t even hesitate. As she began pushing my plug, I shifted my weight so she had better reach.

Through the haze of extasy, I heard her curse.

“Merde! Cheryl, get up. Vite, vite!”

“Huh? Mistress?” I said dazed.

“Quickly. Get dressed,” she said with clear urgency.

My clothes were still on me, but they were in places they shouldn’t be: my dress and bra were stacked in a narrow band around my waist, while my panties rested around my ankles.

I fiddled with my outfit, unsure which piece was which, which way as up. Impatiently, Mistress Desiree tried to help, whit similar succes.

“Leave it!” she said very insistently. “Get into the bathroom, quickly!”

Half-naked, with only my erect clitty preventing my dress from slipping down my legs, I was urged into the bathroom

“Wait here,” Mistress Desiree said under her voice before closing the door.

Still perplexed by this sudden turn of events, I did as I was told, not even bothering to fix my appearance.

Then I heard the dormitory door open, and realized Mistress Desiree had heard footsteps long before.

The newcomer spoke, and I realized it was Miss Wächter. Though I couldn’t understand the language, she sounded unpleased. Mistress Desiree replied in the same tongue, her tone switching between innocence, falsely accused and defensive.

Then both women left. It took me a while to realize Mistress Desiree wasn’t coming back for me, so slowly entered the dorm room.

I looked at the disheveled bed. I looked down on my outfit, and suddenly recent events hit me like a tonne of bricks.

The spell, which I had cast myself, wasn’t broken; it was shattered.

I laughed. I cried. I was so confused. I had just managed to avoid being forcibly taken by Mistress Desiree by… offering myself to her? Did I indeed love her? Was it an act? I couldn’t tell myself.

Did I have sex with this woman? Was it willingly? Did I just cheat on Mistress Christina? More questions I could not answer.

As this storm of emotions and thoughts raced through my head, I began cleaning up my appearance. Fortunately, my uniform was not damaged so I only had to put it properly in place. My hair and make-up needed touching-up, but that was straightforward.

As I covered my body in the trappings of ultra-femininity, I buried my doubt underneath the persona of the sissy people expect me to be.

When Miss Wächter found me in the dorm, she noticed contently how quickly I had assimilated into the Pink Panties.

Like I had been born and raised into it.

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

The next few days were a bit easier. Instead of being subjected to weird ordeals, I had to content with a daily routine of following classes and staying out of trouble. After my tribulations in the feeding-chair and play-pen, even the cruel attentions the mistresses-in-training seemed mild in comparison.

It also helped that my sisters in the Pink Panties were supportive. They all had been subjected to the chair and pen at some point during their first cycle, and could relate. But one immediately after the other? That was unprecedented. Even Buttercup was impressed.

This elicited some mixed emotions. On one hand I was actually proud: clearly I was in a league apart. On the other hand, my teachers didn’t pull their punches during my training. They would push me to my limit, knowing I could take it. The more my sissy-persona was polished, the less tolerance there was for sub-par performance. The baroness was not kidding when she said she strove for perfection in her wards.

Still, in-between classes I began to get my first taste of liberty since I stepped into this school. Sure, we weren’t allowed out off the designated areas, which were bounded by heavy-set oaken doors and bolted with very modern electronic locks, but otherwise we were free to wander as we pleased.

Of course, us Pink Panties stuck closely together. There were always Mistresses-in-Training around, often traveling in groups like packs of hungry wolves, on the prowl for infractions.

Outside of the classroom the school staff didn’t much concern themselves with us; the Mistresses acted as the school’s enforcers instead. Whether it was as trivial as a crooked seam or as serious as outright defiance, the Mistresses-in-Training would quickly deal with it. And the punishments were as varied as the women who dished them out.

No doubt there was a system in their actions, but to me it seemed outright arbitrary. A Mistress could resolve a small infraction with a stern dressing down one moment, and cane you the next. You had to keep on your toes, avoid the tiniest of infractions, because could never trust a Mistress to go easy on you.

But staying sharp all the time drains you, and having all your buttons continuously pushed will cause you to slip up sooner or later. After being talked down to by a particularly zealous mistress, I couldn’t help but make a sassy remark. The words had slipped past my lips before I even knew it, and regretted it instantly. When she and her friends were finally done with me, I regretted it even more.

And yet, such acts of defiance were not the worst transgressions. Speaking without a feminine voice, stomping around like a man, or any other act that broke the illusion of being feminine was the greatest of sins, and the Mistresses would come down on an offending sissy like an avalanche. I now know there are mistresses who prefer their sissies to retain part of their masculine appearance, but not here. Ultra-femininty was not just the norm, it was the law.

So the Mistresses-in-Training upheld the rules on school grounds, correcting wayward sissies wherever they were found, overpowering them if necessary. If a single Mistress could not subdue a particularly rebellious girl, her colleagues would immediately come to her aid. Woe betide the foolish sissy that had to be dragged off to some unknown fate by a group of furious and vengeful Mistresses.

But I’m making it sound worse than it was, really. With so many sissies to pounce on, the Mistresses usually went for the easy targets. So if you just stayed together, looked and behaved perfectly sissy-like and didn’t dawdle in their proximity, you might just escape their notice.

All things considered my prim and proper behavior averted the worst of the Mistresses’ attention. Good thing too, because my pink uniform stuck out like a sore thumb among the far more common yellows, greens, purples and blues. And every Mistress knew that ‘pinkies are more fun’. Especially those with perpetual hard-ons...

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

We were having lunch in the main hall. Here all students that weren’t confined to their dormitory, performing tasks or otherwise occupied could mingle freely. Even the Mistresses ate here, at least those that weren’t tasked with keeping a watchful eye on the sissies.

I shared a table with several girls: Two sissies were from Yellow Ribbon. One was a Green Corset and another a Purple Petticoat. I hadn’t met them before, but their faces were all too familiar: the same heavily made up dolls-face that all the subjugated girls wore as a mask. Much like my own. All different yet all the same.

Their names were Candy, Lily, Kathy and Holly. Or perhaps Ashley, Dany, Shauny and Honey. Names as interchangeable as their faces.

Only their uniforms marked them as individuals. Subtle difference in their clothes differentiated them from the other members of their house: sandals instead of pumps. Flared skirt versus dress and petticoats. The different tokens on their wrists. The text written on their caps or bodices that disclosed and reminded of some great personal shame.

But still a uniform. As if their individuality had merged with the collective. Or that their personality had merged with their appearance.

It made me wonder. Is that what a sissy was? Just filling for a dress and heels? An animated uniform? Each one the same as the next, produced en-masse at sissy-school? Each one interchangeable. Replaceable.

I thought of Mistress Christine, for who I had given up so much. Was I, in the end, just as replaceable? A cold shiver went through my spine

...And why do so many sissy names end with a ‘y’? I thought with a frown.

“What’s the matter pinkie? Not hungry?” A haughty voice spoke next to me.

That immediately brought me back to the present. I smiled prettily to hide my worries and looked up demurely to the speaker.

“No, Mistress Jade,” I answered bashfully. “Cheryl Pink Panties’ thoughts just wandered off, that is all.”

The woman next to me gave me an amused grin. Her appearance proudly showed her oriental heritage. Her dark blue outfit marked her as a member of the Violet Velvets, and her dress hugged her petite body like a second skin; with a neckline so low it seemed to defy gravity. The skirt was cut asymmetrically, with a spilt on one side that shamelessly revealed most of her left leg while covering her right knee. Tiny feet disappeared into a pair of blue suede mary-janes, while the long nails on her bare dainty hands were simply painted blue.

Her fingers tapped the cane lying in front of her, I was over a head taller than this Asian Mistress, but from the moment we met she still managed to look down on me.

I smiled as I cursed the recent turn of events. Every sissy gets assigned a monitor during her first cycle; a fellow student that acts as a sort of mentor and who is responsible for a girl’s training outside of class. This monitor can be one of the Mistresses-in-Training, but could also be a pupil of the finishing school on the other side of the complex. My housemates were already assigned monitors, who had all chosen tonight to collect their charges for some private tutoring. Now that my sisters had been collected, (save for Tabitha, whose monitor was ill), I had effectively lost whatever protection I received from traveling in a group:

Tabitha and I tried to reach the dining hall without drawing attention (staying in the dorm was not an option: meals are mandatory), mincing in formation as we always did, looking prim and prissy. Didn’t do us much good though. A pack of Mistresses immediately spotted the two lone pinkies and surrounded us.

Facing one Mistress is difficult. Facing six is impossible. I’ve never gotten used to the taunting and bullying, and I doubt I’ll ever will. Feeling so damned self-conscious about being dressed like a some little pink fairy (something they eagerly remind me of), there was no escape for the humiliation that washed over me. I could smile, say ‘yes, Mistress’, obey they commands to the letter and bear it (‘why, aren’t you a good little girl!’), or I could stand up to for myself and be defiant (‘Isn’t she adorable, pouting in her pretty pink dress and heels!’). It did not matter: it only ended with more taunting and humiliation. And perhaps as few slaps on my behind.

Worse still was that the Mistresses separated me from Tabitha. I was mince-marched down the corridor by three of the dominants, while my sister was ordered to follow their colleagues. Hadn’t seen her since.

They escorted me to courtyard at the center of the complex, giving me instructions as we went. The late afternoon sun fell on my face as I stepped outside.

The square was mostly empty: the school never was densely populated to begin with, and at this hour most of the students were either in class or preparing for dinner. Only a small group of Yellow Ribbons and a few Green Corsets and Purple Petticoats were present, as well as two Mistresses from Red Latex to keep the peace.

The three Mistresses remained at the edge of the square. I could feel their gaze burn on my back I I minced towards the center of the courtyard, my heels clicking with every step.

Other girls began to notice my presence. Some sissies looked at me quizzically. One of the Mistresses in red looked at me, tightening the grip on her cat-o-nine-tails. A particularly bright Green Corset hurried into the building, recognizing that trouble was afoot.

I tried to avoid the others’ eyes, mentally focusing on my instructions. They were unclear, contradictory, and quite frankly absurd. And I had no choice but to obey them to the letter.

I heard a woman behind me clear her throat. Hurry up, sissy, it seemed to say.

I took a deep breath, straightened my back, and forced a big smile on my face.

Remaining in place, I began to step. Left-right, left-right, making sure the click of my heels rhythmically echoed across the courtyard. I raised my legs as far as my bonds allowed, my thighs touching the hem of my flared skirt. Wind blew past my panties, and my locked and forcibly excited clitty felt its cold touch through the fabric, reminding me just how exposed I was.

I flapped my hands to the rhythm of my heels, straining the ribbon tied around my upper arms.

All eyes were now on me, and I puckered my lips and made kissy-faces to my audience. I winked at Rex Latex Mistress, and licked my lips seductively at the nearest sissy, whose yellow maid’s uniform was particularly sexy. An alien tingle went through me. Must have been a chilly breeze.

I ignored the cat-calls of the mistress behind me, and the grinning faces of the latex clad ones in front of me. I began to sing.

“I'm a little teapot,” I chanted. “Short and stout.”

I tried to visualize my instructions, before putting them into practice. I turned forty-five degrees, sticking out my behind and putting my left hand on my butt-cheek.

“Here is my handle. Here is my spout.” My second hand went to my face, finger resting on my lower lip.

“When I get all steamed up,” I sang as I rapidly spaced, my heels sounding like a typewriter.

“Hear me shout! Ooooh!” I moaned theatrically

I froze in place. “Just tip me over...” I bent forward, raising my skirt teasingly, giving my audience a tantalizing view of the satin tent over my crotch. “...And pour me out.”

The Mistresses burst out laughing and cheering. The sissies began to clap, though far less enthusiastically (better just to act along with the dominants, I reckon).

Not that I paid much attention to the applause, for my act wasn’t over just yet.

“I'm a clever teapot, yes it's true,” I sang as I tiptoed around in my boots. I had no idea anymore what my instructions were at this point, if there even were any, so I just improvised. Hopefully, my tormentors wouldn’t notice in all the hilarity.

“Here's an example of what I can do.” I turned to the women who dragged me out here. I blew each one a kiss, though I mentally flipped them off.

“I can turn my handle to a spout.” I playfully tapped my behind, then raised my right arm towards the nearest red mistress as if I was offering her my hand.

“Just tip me over and pour me out,” I bobbed my legs in a curtsy, while keeping my hands were they were. And that was it.

“Woohoo! Encore! Encore!” the women called out. “We want more, we want more!”

One of the women looked at the sissies as she applauded me, and some immediately began cheering dutifully as well.

I let it come over me. What else could I do? So I just stood there in a properly demure pose as I received their praise, blushing furiously all the while.

A sharp sting burned across my behind, forcing out a startled yelp.

“Are you deaf, pinkie?” One of my tormentors spoke right behind me, holding up the crop she had just used. “Your audience wants an encore. Better give it to them.”

So I did. I repeated my song and dance for the amusement of the mistresses present. They kept on laughing and cheering, urging the other sissies to clap along to the rhythm of my heels.

I finished my second performance, but the women still did not have enough. The woman right behind me made sure I got the message. I began my routine a third time.

“Don’t let your sister have all the fun,” one of the mistresses in red latex called out to the other sissies. “Join in!”

The response was not what you’d call eager. A cuff around the ear here, a slap on a behind there, and some stern shouting in general quickly fixed that.

By the time I started my routine a fourth time, I was the impromptu leader of a song and dance troupe.

The other girls tried to follow my steps and sing my lyrics as well as they could. The mistresses prowled among us, making sure everyone ‘followed the pinkie’. During the sixth routine there was a semblance of organization and synchronicity.

On one hand I was glad I no longer was the only one making a feminized fool of myself. Especially now were had drawn quite an impressive crowd. On the other hand, the glares I got from the other sissies hinted I hadn’t made any friends here today.

Finally, the women had their fill of our collective humiliation, and we were ordered to disperse. I looked at my three tormentors for confirmation, and they simply told me to get lost. I made sure I bobbed a properly respectful curtsey before getting the hell away from them. My heels had taken me halfway across the courtyard before I was ordered to stop.

One Mistress, the Asian beauty who was now sitting next to me, told me that is was dangerous out there for pretty girls like me. She insisted to escort me to the dining hall. I just had enough time to force a ‘thank you’ through my grinding teeth before she grabbed my hand and pulled me along with her.

I had no idea what her intentions were, but even when she finally let go, she stayed closer to me than my own shadow. She stood right behind me when I got my diner (the same green gruel I had been force fed in the chair, but at least this time it was on a plate), and kept watching me as I ate (more like forcing mush down my throat, really).

Back in the present, the oriental mistress was still tapping the handle of her cane thoughtfully, her eyes fixed on me.

Then she gave an enigmatic smile.

“Actually, my name is Jiang,” she told me. “Mistress Jiang Velvet for you, sissy. I introduced myself when we met. Normally, forgetting to properly address your betters would be an infraction. But you’re in luck, I like ‘Jade’. So you can call me Mistress Jade instead. Better not forget it, dum-dum.”

And without another word, she got up from the table and left. She hadn’t even touched her own food (which looked much more palatable than mine, I might add. Too bad one of the sissies tasked with cleaning the tables quickly removed it).

The rest of dinner time I spent consuming green goo and talking with my fellow sissies. I really was in no mood for chit-chat, but I had the misfortune one of the Yellow Ribbons was quite the blabbermouth, and since a sissy must always appear merry and inviting, giving her the silent treatment was no option. So I was drawn in a very important discussion about which accessories we’d should add to our uniforms, and if bows are hot or not.

I was almost relieved when it was time for me to head for the classroom for the evening lectures. Most of the other girls had to leave for their own training as well. In the bustle I bumped into another sissy. She was dresses in baby blue, marking her as one of the Blue Bonnets.

The ‘bluebells’, as they were often called, were considered to be the 'classy' type of sissy: trained to be proper young ladies. Their training was closest what female students would receive at an actual finishing school. Humiliation, degradation or other types of indoctrination were still part of their program, but mostly aimed at helping them realize they were no longer young men.

I immediately bobbed a proper curtsy, muttering a dutiful apology. The other sissy did likewise.

I didn’t recognize the face, at first, trapped inside that massive poke bonnet. But that hopeless curtsy was all too familiar…

“Danielle?!” I cried out.

A dazed pair of eyes began to focus. “...Cheryl?” she answered.

The style of her dress could perhaps best be described as ‘Modern Victorian’: she wore a very tight short skirt that restricted the movements of her upper legs, which itself was partially covered by a voluminously folded dress with extra drapery above her behind, reminiscent of a classic bustle dress. Her torso was encased in a bodice that gave her a waspish figure, and I was sure she wore a corset underneath. Wide straps with lush embroidery fell over her shoulders, but left her upper arms and cleavage bare.

A pair of leather pumps with T-strap further restricted her steps. From these calf-length socks rose up, made from delicate sheer fabric with tiny bows on top. Her opera gloves were made of the same sheer fabric, but there the bows were tied around her wrists, her identification tokens kept in place by the ribbons.

On her neck she carried a very tight choker, which was much more narrow than my own, but without any obvious locking mechanism. I had no idea how she would take it off, if she even could.

Her face was framed by the large bonnet that was the hallmark of her House. It didn’t cover her head completely, for it was pinned to her hair just before her ears, not obscuring an onlooker’s view on her beautiful brown hair. The wide brim did obstruct her own peripheral view though, and as a mean joke her words of shame were stitched on the inside, visible to her as it was to anyone else.

Little Miss Hissy-Fit, it read.

I didn’t know that title meant, and I did not ask. But last time I saw her, she was full of fury and anger at my betrayal, and she said terrible things in retaliation. Mutual hate was the only thing we had in common at that moment. But that fire had gone out. Whatever she did to earn her moniker, also had broken her. Now there was only reserved acceptance.

“You look… well,” I said non-committal.

“You too...” she replied just as weakly.

I could say a million things. Tell her I was sorry for ratting her out. Tell her how her venomous words had cut me. Pour my heart out to her and comfort her in turn.

But I didn’t. I just stood there, silently staring at her. And as the bustle of moving sissies and mistresses around us died out, I realized something:

I did not care.

Danielle, who despite everything had become my best and only friend, was now a stranger to me.

I saw her move her lips as if trying to form words, but nothing came out. Then her face froze in a bleak expression.

“I need to go,” she finally said, and turned away.

I didn’t even watch her go. I just kept on staring in the distance as I fell in that black hole that had been cut deep into my soul.

I remembered what the Baroness had said: embracing femininity was becoming part of a great sisterhood. But that was a lie: why else had she ripped apart the connection I had with the only one I would have ever called ‘sister’.

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

I saw Tiffany a day later. She was now dressed as a yellow maid. She and a couple of her sisters were being mercilessly drilled by several mistresses. I watched her for a moment (from a cautious distance), but couldn’t find much satisfaction in her tribulations.

In fact, I was mildly jealous: at least she was getting attention. The only thing that managed to sooth the stupor I found myself in since meeting Danielle was the praise I got from my teachers and the more generous Mistresses. Any reprimands, punishments or abuse I simply accepted as an unavoidable fact of life.

Against the warnings of my sisters I began to wander about the school grounds without them. A lone Pink Panty among all those Mistresses… I could feel their merciless gaze follow me as I passed by. But whatever they wanted to do to me, for whatever reason they did not follow through. Nevertheless, it was terrifying, but I also felt a strange elation that was both alien and familiar to me.

“Hi there, beautiful,” a gentle voice said, interrupting my musings.

I turned on my heels, and bobbed a pretty curtsey. “Greetings, Mistress Jade,” I said. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Which was true, actually. Though our first encounter was strange, to say the least, Mistress Jade proved to be one of the nicer Mistresses around. Always complementing me when she saw me, and mostly gave me warnings when something was wrong with my uniform. Her very presence seemed to discourage the other Mistresses. Her appreciative look immediately lifted my spirits.

“Thank you, cutie-pie. The pleasure is all mine,” she said with a smile. Then she tilted her head. “Are you alright, Cheryl Pink Panties. You seem troubled.”

I fidgeted as I avoided her gaze, forcing a smile on my face. “It is nothing, Mistress. “This sissy is perfectly content, really.”

Happiness was still mandatory for me, mind you.

She shook her head. “Oh come now, girl. I recognize the blues when I see it. No need to deny it; I will not hold it against you.” She gave me a warm look. “In fact, I have something that might cheer you up. Follow me.”

Surprised, and also a bit curious, I followed her. It took some effort to keep up with her long strides in my towering heels, but I managed.

“Mistress? Where are we going?” I asked.

“A favorite hang-out of mine.” she said over her shoulder. “It’s not far, girl. Just try and keep up.”

I skittered behind her, and almost bumped into her when she suddenly stopped at a corner.

“Careful girl,” she told me. “Priority cargo coming through.”

“What..?” I stammered. “Priority Cargo? I don’t...”

Then my mouth fell silent and my eyes went wide.

I watched the ‘cargo’ round the corner. It consisted of a single sissy, flanked by two Mistresses. She wore a large, heavily boned corset in bright green that was so tight I wondered how she managed to draw breath.

Breathing was made even more difficult by the gag that covered her mouth, which undoubtedly forced something very long, hard and phallic between her teeth.

The ankle chains connecting her lace-up ankle boots was even shorter than mine, and for a moment I assumed the two Mistresses were simply offering her support.

Unfortunately for the girl, she was not that lucky; the women each held a chain that was connected to her wrist, forcing her lower hands outward while shackles on a thick leather waistband forced her upper arms to her sides.

Her hair was tied up with a wide bow. Her gaze was centered to the front. Not that she could do much else; her neck was encased in a frightening posture collar.

With the sissy so extensively secured, you’d be inclined to think she was some sort of wild beast. But her eyes showed that there was no fight left in her.

Still, I’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

“Suzy?!” I called out, much louder than was appropriate.

The two escorts stopped, and Mistress Jade gave me a quizzical look.

“Friend of yours?” she asked me.

“Yes! I mean, no. Er… I mean, we were in the same novice class,” I said out, my eyes never leaving Suzy’s. She gave no sign of recognition.

“At least, until they took her to the nursery...” I added.

“Aha,” Mistress Jade said knowingly.

“What happened to her?” I asked concerned. Where was the Suzy that had dared to stand up to Big Sister?

Mistress Jade looked at her colleagues, sharing a silent communion. One of the woman shrugged and turned to her ward, unbuckling her gag.

“...Ask her yourself,” Mistress Jade told me.

The phallus slipped out of the poor girl’s mouth, who only now seemed to realize something had changed.

“Suzy? Suzy!” I called out, unable to hide the fright in my voice. “Can you hear me? It’s me, Cheryl.”

“...Cheryl?” she said, only now aware of my presence.

“From the novice class? Remember?” I said almost pleadingly. “Before they took you to the nursery?”

“Would you hurry it up, Pinky” one of the escorting women said . “She just had a long session in the crib and we need to get her to class while she is still warm.”

I looked at the red-clad woman in disbelief, even forgetting to perform a proper bob.

“Still warm? What? What’s the matter with her? What’s the crib?”

“The crib...” Suzy suddenly said, focus returning to her eyes.

“I don’t want to go into the crib…” her words becoming more coherent. “I never want to go into the crib. So dark... The lullabies. Over and over. Whispering. Telling me...”

Her speech become more lively, but made no sense whatsoever.

“… Where am I?” she suddenly said.

“Ah, verdammt...” One of the women sighed annoyed. She held the chain tight, pulling it taut.

Whatever spell Suzy was under, it seemed to be broken now. She tried to move, though her bondage did not give her much leeway.

“What am I wearing?” I heard Suzy say. “Why can’t I move?!”

Finally she noticed her wardens. “Who are you? Let go! Leave me alone!”

Obviously they didn’t: but even in her extensive bondage did Suzy manage to put up a fight. The two women pulled hard as Suzy erupted in a full blown tantrum.

She cried. She cursed. She called for help and begged for release.

“Could you please shut her up?” the red clad woman asked her colleague.

“I’m a bit busy myself,” the other Mistress said.

Suzy finally recognized me. “Cheryl? Is that you? Help me! Please!”

“Can you give us a hand?” one of the escorts asked Mistress Jade.

Without a word, she turned to me.

“You heard her, Cheryl. Help her out.” she said without a hint of warmth.

I must have turned pale.

She can’t ask me to do this! I thought.

“...Let me go! Leave me alone!” Suzy continued “Cheryl! Help me!

Miss Jade looked at me expectantly, and I answered her gaze. I cannot do this I said silently. Defiantly. I won’t do this.

“Hurry now, girl,” she said sternly.

...And to my everlasting shame, my defiance instantly evaporated. I muttered a ‘yes, Mistress’, and turned to Suzy.

“Cheryl! Help!” she called as I stepped right in front of her. “…Cheryl? What are you..? Wait! Stop! No! Donmmfh!”

Surprised, shocked, Suzy forgot to clench her jaws shut. I had no trouble to push the gag into her mouth.

“Humpfh! Humgh!” Suzy yelled into her gag. I kept the pressure on, making sure it stayed in.

With Suzy blindsided by my actions, one of the Mistresses managed to get behind her to buckle up the straps. I kept pushing until it was safely secured.

Suzy kept resisting for a moment or two longer, but then her hissy-fit died down.

“Thanks, Pinkie,” the woman in red latex told me before turning her charge.

“Happy now, Suzy-poo? Better enjoy it then, because when Nurse Ratchett hears about this tantrum, she will be most displeased.”

Suzy muttered something into her gag, but the two women ignored her, pushing her past Miss Jade and me.

I got one final glimpse of Suzy’s eyes, and in them I read utter defeat...

++++++++++++++++

I did not have time to think much about it though. Mistress Jade immediately called me to attention and ordered me to follow her again. She had smiled when she said it, but her warm smile had gotten a cold hard edge.

Staying upright (and properly cute) in my wicked heels demanded most of my mind’s processing power, But still I thought about what Mistress Jade had made me do to Suzy. Most likely she did not want to appear weak before her peers, but I could not shake the feeling Mistress Jade was not quite what she appeared to be.

Thank to my musings I again almost bumped into Mistress Jade. Then I noticed my surroundings: we had arrived at one of the imposing doors that led further into the complex that made up Miss Wyttebach’s finishing school.

It was also the border of how far sissies were allowed to wander.

Mistress Jade shot me a quick smile, then pulled out a keycard.

“Mistress, where are we going..?” I asked weakly.

She ignored my question as she swiped the card through an electronic lock, then typed in her access code on the keypad.

I heard a short buzz and a click, and the door swung open by itself.

Jade stepped through the doorpost, then turned towards me.

“Coming?” she asked casually.

My legs remained locked in place.

“Mistress? Er… sissies are not allowed out of the designated areas, are they?” I managed to utter.

She rolled with her eyes. “Oh, pish-posh. You are with me, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, but...”

“Hurry up then,” she told me, then turned away and continued on down the hall.

Flabbergasted I watched her go. I considered either turning around and head back, or wait right there for her to return.

But my feet made the decision for me, and the clicking of heels on marble alerted me I was following Mistress Jade.

The corridor was much like those we had just left behind. I could hear activity further down, but aside from Mistress Jade and me it was empty.

I was very glad about that. I knew I shouldn’t be here, even while being chaperoned by Mistress Jade. If anyone else saw me here, I would be in a galaxy of trouble. Nevertheless, I didn’t leave Mistress Jade’s side.

From the noise I realized we were approaching other people. Or they were approaching us. I felt my face burn with anxiety.

Mistress Jade’s hand suddenly shot upward, and pushed me gently on the chest, stopping me in my tracks.

I saw her prick up her ears. A thoughtful expression on her face.

It seemed she did not want to caught out here either…

“That way,” she urged pushing me towards the nearest door.

It was not locked, and Mistress Jade quickly pulled the handle, pushing me inside.

Another corridor, but completely different from the one we had just left: cold concrete walls illuminated by pale fluorescent lights. Clearly a service corridor behind the false facade of the opulent walls.

“Down there,” Jade pointed, then gently pushing me.

The corridor was to narrow for us to stand side-by-side, so I walked point.

“Where are we going?” I asked once more. “What’s down there?”

“Some friend and I have put up a club-house, of sorts,” she said behind me. “Where we can chill without the school staff hounding us with their rules, their standards and their regulations.”

Her conceited tone shocked me even more than her words, and I couldn’t help stopping in my tracks.

Who did she think who she was? The Baroness built this school. Ruled this school with her indomitable will. Her rules were law. Not even a Mistress-in-Training could disobey them.

A less than gentle push got me moving again, and I kept my mouth shut.

Feeling righteous indignation is one thing, arguing the point quite another: there was no Baroness in these lonely corridors, only a defenseless sissy and a Mistress who seemed to be getting more threatening by the minute.

The only sound I heard was the clicking of our heels, which echoed on the drab walls.

...No, wait. There was something else. I tried to ignore the ‘tick-tick-tick’ of my mincing gait and listened.

Was that music?

Mistress Jade guided me deeper into these remote parts of the complex, the music getting louder with every step, until we turned a corner.

In front of me was a very plain looking service door, much like several we had already passed, with a discrete sign that simply said “Schwarze Mantels”. A powerful beat pumped form invisible speakers in the room beyond.

Mistress Jade opened the door for me.

“After you, pinkie,” she said with a grin as she shoved me inside.

I stumbled in my heels, and yelped as I lost balance. I felt myself tip over.

A pair of black clad hands grabbed me and arrested my fall.

Shocked and dazed, I looked at my surroundings. It clearly was some sort of utility room, with electrical boxes on one wall, while a complex system of pipes covered the opposite side.

Once, this room had been bare and inhospitable. However the room obviously had received a complete makeover. Or several, more likely.

The floor had been covered with a collection of carpets and rugs. Several worn couches and loveseats lined the walls, while a couple of different coffee tables stood nearby. The large fluorescent light on the ceiling had been turned off, with a bewildering collection of lamps and light providing illumination: from long string lights that gave a warm yellow-white glow, to colored disco lights. The net effect was a room that was submerged in a dream like twilight.

The music beat came from a couple of speakers that seemed comically large for this room. The drinks that were scattered on the tables probably came from the refrigerator at the far wall.

In all, the room had the vibe of a sorority house. Rather cozy, in a haphazard sort of way.

But it was the Mistress who had caught me that I was transfixed by.

“Bonjour, ma cheri,” Mistress Desiree said with a wide grin, holding me tight. “Fancy meeting you here.“

I felt my face turning pale. I was so overwhelmed I did not even think to curtsy properly.

Mistress Desiree casually placed me back on my heels and adjusted my dress, while Mistress Jade closed the door behind me. Another Mistress was also in the room, her hair almost as crimson as her latex outfit.

“Welcome to our little clubhouse,” Mistress Desiree told me as she slipped an arm around my waist. “It lacks the grandeur of the rest of the school, but the atmosphere is far more informal.”

There was a wicked glint in her eyes. “Here, anything goes.”

Mistress Desiree turned me around, facing one of the couches.

“Isn’t that right, my dear?”

“For a second I thought she was addressing me, but I now realized she was facing the fluffy pink pile in the corner.

The pile moved on its own.

“Tabitha?!” I cried out.

What I first took for a stack of pillows was my indeed my house sister. Aside from her elaborate pink outfit, she was wearing a lot of bonds that were not part of her normal uniform: over her dress she wore some sort of harness that was covered in straps and D-rings. Her arms were tied behind her back and did not seem to allow any wiggle room.

Her Mary-James were tied together by a familiar ribbon, but now leather straps above and below her knees further hobbled her. Not that she was going anywhere: her leash had been tied to a pipe just behind her, keeping her firmly in her seat.

She might have acknowledged my presence, but I couldn’t be sure. She was unable to see me due to a blindfold that covered her eyes. The ballgag in her mouth prevented her from communication beyond moans and grunts.

“What are you doing here!?” I asked my gagged sister nonsensically.

“Hmmm?!” she responded, perhaps even recognizing me. It sounded like a sad whimper.

Mistress Desiree sniggered as she walked over to my bound sister, then gently stroked her cheek. “Tabitha Pink Panties is our guest, just like you. Unfortunately, she was much less inclined to accept our invitation. So we had to take some precautions to prevent her from making a scene.”

From a tiny pocket on het corset, she pulled out the skeleton key every Mistress carried with her.

“Now then Tabitha, if your sweet little friend Cheryl unties you, will you behave?”

Tabitha uttered a soft whine through her gag, but nodded slowly.

“Good. Catch, sissy.” She casually threw the key in my direction, which I clumsily dropped, almost causing it to slide underneath the couch. The red mistress laughed.

Hastily I picked up the key and minced over to Tabitha. “Turn left,” I told her so I could reach the lock. “No my left… right.”

Fumbling the key in my gloved hand, my upper arms still locked together by the ribbon-covered chain, I has a hell of a time getting the tiny key in the even tinier lock, especially as that stupid girl did not stay still, but eventually I heard the satisfying click of release.

With one hand loose, she managed to take the key and uncuff the other. She had some difficulty unbuckling her ballgag, but managed to get it out.

“Took you gals long enough,” Mistress Jade said as she pushed me. Unbalanced by my high heels, I tipped over and with a yelp fell face-first on the couch, right next to Tabitha. “Have a seat.”

“Let’s get this party started,” the red Mistress whose name I never caught said, pulling out a bottle of liquor and several glasses from a cabinet.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The party, as they called it, was not too bad. We all sat next to one-another; Jade, me, Desiree, Tabitha, and the red mistress, though much closer than I was comfortable with.

Mistress Desiree had her arms greedily around me and my sister, while Mistress Jade had my bare legs lying on her lap. The red woman’s hand were hidden somewhere underneath Tabitha’s skirt.

They fondled us, teased us, and occasionally put a glass on our lips to pour some burning liquid down our throats, but otherwise seem to ignore Tabitha and me.

“Ad fundum!” I heard them call out as I downed another shot, making me cough.

The mistresses continued chatting amongst themselves (in French, so I had no idea what they were talking about). Every now and then a question or remark was directed at me or Tabitha, but it was just to tease us or keep us on our toes. They hushed me when I spoke without being spoken to, or simply for being tedious.

“…and I do believe that bras are the best invention ever,“ I said dutifully, forcing a pretty smile on my face. “Except for high heels, of course. And panties. And…”

“Oh shut up, girl! Nom de Dieu, you are dim. Here, have another sip. It is not like you have any braincells you can lose.”

Given the circumstances, I couldn’t communicate with Tabitha. I could hardly look at her without drawing attention, but it was clear her discomfort was not just caused by a pair of hands that were very near to her privates. She had been trained well, and her behavior was properly sissy-like, but her eyes kept wandering to a nondescript door at the far end of the room.

“Good idea,” one of the women suddenly said. “An appetizer before the main course. Up, girls.”

It took me a moment to realize she was talking to us. Then I heard a loud ‘smack’, and pain shot through my upper leg. I yelped.

“Are you deaf, sissy?” Mistress Jade said angrily, holding the cane she’d just used on me. “Get up, and stand at attention.”

I hurriedly got on my feet, and Tabitha quickly followed my example. We struck our prissy-sissy pose, looked down, and waited.

The three women, looked us up and down. Mistress Desiree’s crop went to a fold in my skirt that I did not straighten properly, but she didn’t reprimand me.

“Raise your skirt, girls,” she finally said.

We obeyed, naturally. Holding the hem of my skirt between index-finger and thumb, I presented my panties for inspection.

“What have we here?” the red clad mistress said. “A bulge? Someone is enjoying this a bit too much.”

I blushed. She was talking about me.

“This one hasn’t,” mistress Jade said. “How dull. Help her out, Cheryl.”

Startled, I looked up “Mistress?

“You heard her, stupid girl,” Desiree said menacingly. “Face one-another.”

We turned on our heels towards each other, and I saw Tabitha’s skin-deep smile. Her panties were visible for all to see, but it was like I saw her adorable appearance that struck me the most. It was like I saw her for the first time; her dress, heels, hair and make-up… Her male origins were completely hidden under her silk prison.

I felt the pressure in my own panties rise.

“Doesn’t she look wonderful, Cheryl?” the Asian beauty asked.

“Yes Mistress Jade,” I replied truthfully. “Tabitha Pink Panties is a very pretty girl.”

“And Cheryl is cute too, is she not, Tabitha?” The woman said.

“Yes, Mistress. Cheryl is a beautiful sissy,” I heard my sister say as I looked into her wide blue eyes.

Mistress Desiree’s grinned. “Kiss her.”

“Mistress?” Tabitha and I asked in unison.

The black-clad woman leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. “Bend over, and kiss each other on the mouth. Stick your tongues in deep, and wiggle it around. Don’t stop until we say so, girly-girls.”

Despite my training, I hesitated. We both did. Despite her appearance, I was acutely aware that underneath her outfit Tabitha was not a real girl. And that evoked a deep and primal aversion that I hadn’t shaken off, and probably never will.

Yet, as I stood there in my ultra-feminine outfit, arms and ankles still shackled by chains, the maid’s cap pinned to my curly hair, looking at a girl almost as pretty as me, it did not take long for my drilled sissy-persona to regain control. And our lips touched.

Her lips were as soft as I had imagined them to be. Her recalcitrant tongue attempted to enter my mouth as mine wrestled to enter hers. Still holding up my skirt, I longed to touch her feminine body, and imagined her hand stroking the inside of my leg.

Only I wasn’t imagining anything; a hand was going up my leg. Long nails on soft fingers indicated it was Mistress Jade. Another reached around me and stroked my tummy. Gently first, then harder. I felt warmth radiate from it..

I opened my eyes, and I could just see the red mistress right behind Tabitha. Her hand were once more under the girl’s skirt. I couldn’t see what she was doing, but I heard Tabitha grunt softly.

My posture was not a particular comfortable one, but I remained still, only my lips moving as I tasted Tabitha. And the shivers that went through me under Jade’s touch.

I tried to ignore everything except my house sister, but mistress Jade did not make it easy. She leaned in, her hand going into my panties as she kissed me on the neck, then gently bit me.

I can only imagine Tabitha was undergoing a similar treatment, as I felt her tremble.

Jade’s other hand went down from my belly, past my skirt, to my groin. She gently massaged the bulge that stood out from my panties and diaper.

“Oooh, I heard you were easy, but not that you were so… eager,” the Asian beauty whispered in my ear.

Her velvet gloves poked underneath the fabric of my underwear, touching the bare skin of my bottom and my clitty. I felt my legs shiver, unsteady on my heels, and Jade pulled me against her groin as if to stabilize me. And all this time I tasted Tabitha in my mouth.

Desiree said something that I did not understand, then suddenly nailed fingers pulled down my panties. It startled me, and despite myself I squealed softly. Chains still bound my legs, so the mistress didn’t bother taking it off completely; she just dropped it around my ankles.

The fingers were not yet done, but had lost their gentle touch. Roughly, Jade reached for the plug in my behind and pulled it out. It hurt, making me groan, and inadvertently I turned my head away from Tabitha, biting my lip. Then I heard a ‘plop’, and suddenly an awkward burden that I had never gotten used to was gone.

The tip of a crop pushed against my cheek, turning be back towards Tabitha. “I didn’t say stop, now did I, pinkie?”

“Moh, Mimfrs,” I said with Tabitha’s tongue in my mouth.

“Enough with the foreplay,” mistress Jade said, slapping my bare bottom. “Suit up, ladies.”

“Here. Catch,” Desiree called as she threw something at her colleagues.

Standing lip-to-lip with Tabitha, I couldn’t see what it was. But then I felt something move between my legs…

It gently stroked my skin, until it reached my groin. I felt how a long hard rod passed underneath my sissy-hole to reach the underside of my clitty, its tip tickling my own erect member.

“Keep it there, Cheryl, while I buckle up,” Mistress Jade said behind me. As I pressed my thighs together, I knew I was holding up a strap-on between my legs.

“Are the girls ready?” Desiree asked impatiently. “I want to get some.”

“Wait a minute,” the red mistress said behind Tabitha, her hands still under my sister’s skirt. “This pinkie is a bit shy, she’s gone completely limp.”

“What’s the matter, Tabitha? Thinking about the boiler room? Or doesn’t Cheryl tickle your fancy anymore?” Mistress Desiree sniggered. “Well, the latter we can fix. Cheryl, be a dear and give Tabitha a hand.”

Wait… what?

Confused, I let go of the hem of my dress and held up my hand for Tabitha to shake, all without interrupting our intimate kiss.

Desiree barked a laugh. Mistress Jade cuffed me around the ears.

“Yúchǔn de niángniáng qiāng!” the latter snarled. “Do we need to draw you a picture? Give your limp sister… a hand.”

What!? I thought, breaking contact with Tabitha. But I was grabbed by my hair and pushed back to my previous position. My scream was smothered by my sister’s mouth.

Desiree came close and whispered sternly in my ear. “Listen girl, you are going to make sure that Tabitha’s pathetic little clitty is properly erect. You can use your hand ‘cause I do not want to taste any cum on your lips, but if you do not succeed in three minutes you will use that pretty mouth of yours.”

“Don’t be shy, Cheryl,” the red mistress told me. “Tabitha won’t mind. In fact, she’d love it.”

The tears that began to roll down her cheeks told me a different story.

I hesitated. How could I not? So much had happened to me, was done to me, but never did I have to jack off another man.

Jade pinched my behind, a tingle shot through my rear. She unlocked one of the cuffs that bound my upper arms.

...But I wasn’t a man anymore, now was I?

I became aware of the smell of Tabitha’s perfume, saw the contours of her feminine face. I thought about her dress, her heels, her panties…

...And neither was Tabitha…

My hand moved underneath her pretty dress, searching, and through the stiff leather of my gloves I touched her clitty.

I pulled my hand back as if I had just touched a hot stove. I forced myself to touch it again, and to pretend I was touching a female and not a guy’s pecker.

Tabitha gave a soft yelp and squirmed a bit as I touched her, but the red Mistress kept her in place. Simultaneously, Jade fiendishly urged me on. “That is it, girl. Touch her. Feel her. You know you want to...”

With the both of us bending over her clitty was at the end of my reach, fingertips barely touching the tip, so the two mistresses gently pushed us towards one-another. Two pairs of stilettos clicked under our tiny steps, until we were standing toe to toe. And thigh to thigh.

Now I could easily reach under her skirt. I had a much better grip on the alien object in my hand. It was already getting harder, more rigid. I could feel a pulsing beat underneath my fingertops.

Mistress Jade had finished buckling-up her strapon, and teasingly moved it underneath my groin. “Excite her,” she told me. “Tease her, get her hard. But do not let her come, Cheryl. Every drop she spills, you’ll lick up.”

“Mmf...”I said in acknowledgement, my mouth still filled with Tabitha Pink Panties. We had been kissing passionately for a while now, and my jaw started to ache. But I could only think about how I was holding her sissy-clitty. And about her...

I moved my gloved hand along the shaft of her hard clitty, slowly, making sure not to get her too excited. Gradually, the feeling became less and less alien and more natual, more right.

Without me realizing it, my other hand had found its way to her narrow waist. Hers now rested om my shoulder. And on my behind, I realized as she squeezed it.

I moved my hand faster, holding her clitty tighter. Tabitha gasped softly, and her tongue redoubled its efforts in my mouth. Her hands grasped me tight.

I felt unsteady on my heels, my own clitty straining against my diaper and panties. Some part of me seemed to watch myself with utter bafflement: what the hell was I doing? The rest was completely subsumed by my sissy persona and found strange conform in pleasing my sister.

Tabitha was moaning now, and her whole body was as rigid as her clitty. I picked up the pace and…

Twack!

With my sisters tongue still down my throat, I yelped, feeling the burn where the slapjack hit my thigh.

“Stop that, girl!” Mistress Jade snarled at me. “I told you not to let her come! Or do you want her cum in your mouth?”

Spell broken, I pulled back from Tabitha as if she was radioactive. “No Mistress Jade,” I said will trying to ignore her taste in my mouth.

“Really?” the Asian mistress said as I realized she still rested her strapon against my legs, dangerously close to my sissy-hole. “I would have expected a girl like you loves a big cock in her mouth,” she spoke teasingly. “And I’m sure you’d swallow. Shall we find out?”

I don’t know if I turned red or pale.

The redheaded mistress sniggered. “Come on. Let’s get them inside.” She gave Tabitha a shove towards the door that led to the boiler room, the poor girl barely keeping upright.

“You heard the lady,” Jade spoke as she grabbed my leash. “Time to find out if you are all you are cracked up to be.”

She gave my leash a tug and I was turned towards that dreaded door.

It loomed large in my field of vision. I did not want to go there, but with Mistress Jade keeping my leash taut my feet refused to stop moving.

But I was not the only one scared.

Tabitha started to cry. “No. No. No, please no,” she pleaded.

“Hush girl,” the red mistress spoke, forcefully grabbed my sister by the arm.

But it did not help; Tabitha was starting to freak out. She began to shout. And and struggle.

“Let me go!” she yelled as she tried to pull fee, feverishly looking around. “Let me out. I want out of here!”

Her eyes fell on me. They radiated dread. For a moment my own fears were gone and I felt only concern for my sister. “Help me, Cheryl!” she cried. “Help! Please!”

I returned a dismayed look, dumbstruck. A chilling fear gripped my heart. I was afraid. Afraid for Tabitha. And for me.

I wanted to do something. Help her. But what? How? Should I break fee? Make a run for it? Drag her with me?

Mistress Jade tightened her grip on my leash, as if she heard my thoughts.

The red mistress called Samantha struggled to bring Tabitha to heel, trying to get a good grip and pin her down.

Whether it came from some untapped reservoir of courage, or simple desperation, the struggling Tabitha pulled her arm free and took a swipe at the red mistress. It hit her right in the face.

Time seemed to have frozen. Did that just happen? Everyone was dumbstruck. Me. The Mistresses. And Tabitha most of all.

The Red Mistress’ expression went from surprised to furious. “Why you little bitch!’ She snarled as she grabbed Tabitha’s arm and with the power of rage twisted it around, forcing the poor girl on her knees.

Tabitha’s courage was ow spent, but she still put up a desperate fight. Mistress Samantha shot an angry glance at Mistress Jade who was nearest to her. “A little help, if you don’t mind?” she said annoyed.

Jade overcame her surprise as well. She threw my leash at Desiree. “Hold this!” She hurried over to Tabitha.

Tabitha was now fighting a hopeless battle, and mostly cried as she ineffectually tried to get out of the red mistress’ grip.

Then Jade was on her, and began softening her up with her slapjack. She hit Tabitha on the behind, her legs, and a nasty slap at the back of the head.

Samantha grunted as she pulled Tabitha’s arms together, towards the cuffs of the harness she was wearing. Jade slapped her once, twice, and then locked the cuffs around her wrists.

“Got her,” she said.

“Good,” the red woman snarled. She let go of Tabitha’ arms, but grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back, forcing her to look her in the eyes. “I hope this little stunt was worth it, pinky,” she spoke threateningly. “Because now it’s my turn.” She pulled out her own whip.

Now Mistress Jade held the girl in place as the red woman reasserted her dominance, and vented some steam in the process. After every strike she tightened a buckle, strap or lace of Tabitha’s outfit, so that quickly she was completely immobilized.

I could only watch Tabitha getting manhandled. Unconsciously, I had moved closer to Mistress Desiree. Somehow, she had become the least frightening figure in the room. I hadn’t even noticed she had put her arm around me.

Squeezed by her own uniform, Tabita’s cries turned to grunts, then were silenced completely as the Red Mistress unkindly shoved her ballgag in her mouth. Then the redheaded woman slapped the girl in her face, similar to how Tabitha struck her, but far more vicious.

Only tears and pained moans now remained for the girl.

“Let’s get her inside,” Jade said as she regained her haughty composure.

She turned to Desiree, who was still holding my leash. “Give us a moment. Let’s do this one first.”

Desiree nodded.

The red mistress opened the door to the boiler room. It was made of metal; heavy, solid and foreboding. The room beyond was poorly lit and I could not see whatever terrors lurked inside, but Tabitha’s unwillingness to enter was proof enough.

Tabitha’s no longer resisted, but the two women were not kind with her as they half-dragged-half-shoved the bound girl into the boiler room. I heard one more moan of dismay, then with a loud bang the door was slammed shut and she was gone.

Mistress Desiree chuckled. “Oh, I know that look. Samantha’s got her blood boiling. It will take a while before it is your turn.”

She tugged at my leash, forcing me to look at her. “So, what shall we do in the meantime?”

I was trapped in her gaze, but my mind only thought of the steel door. “What… would you like?” I heard myself say weakly.

A wry smile appeared on her face. She turned around and walked over to the nearest couch. With a sharp tug on my leash she bade me to follow.

She sat down, and pulled me towards her. Firmly, but not unkind, he sat me down on her lap.

Her hands went under my skirt, found the edge of my panties, and probed underneath the fabric. Desiree’s eyes radiated a hungry glee.

“What I would like? Well, I would like to ravish you, cherie” she said with a kind voice totally at odds with her words. “But I’m afraid then nothing would be left of you for my friends.”

Loud thumping suddenly came from the boiler room.

I gasped. Perhaps because the sound startled me. Or perhaps because Desiree’s touch was surprisingly electrifying…

I tried to collect my thoughts as she worked her way to my clitty. Not once did it relax, and now it was hers to use.

I swallowed hard as I tried to ignore her soft grip. “…perhaps you.. do not… ungh… need to share,” I managed to mutter.

She paused her movement for a moment, a look of amusement in her eyes. Her other hand went to the back of my head and firmly drew me closer to her face. She was a nose length away when she began teasing me again.

“I that so?” she said bemused. “And why wouldn’t I let my dear friend have their turn? Once I had you, and took my fill, what use are you to me then? Old news while every month fresh sissies arrive for me to peg.”

Bashfully, I tried to avoid her gaze. Her words, dreadful as they were, made sense. A Black Cloak like her surely could have every sissy she wants. What made me anything special?

One hand went down my back and to my rear, softly stroking me as it went. And she continued teasing me under my skirt; my clitty was now really hard and pushed against my diaper, but she made sure I would not climax. I moaned half in extasy, and half in frustration.

And then it hit me: ravishing me was not enough for her. Perhaps not even her real goal: it was power she really wanted. She wanted to dominate.

“I am not like the other girls,” I blurted out. “Other sissies break if you push them too far, but I can take it.”

Miss Wachter’s psych-report on me came to mind. “You can do whatever you want with me and I’d still love you. The teachers call me a spring; put any amount of force on me, and I just return te right amount of resistance. What other sissy can do that?”

Mistress Desiree did not take her hands off me, but they had suddenly frozen in place.

“Who else but you deserve a sissy like that? Do you really want to waste me on other mistresses? Casting a pearl before swine, I think.”

I wiggled my behind a little, pushed out my breasts and slightly kicked one leg keeping my mouth open a bit as I exhaled. A gentle action that I’d learned and was told was surprisingly tempting. Not just for Desiree, mind you; this mild show of submission enabled me to almost believe what I was saying. Sissythink works best if you act the part. And Mistress Desiree was a gorgeous woman, so I the thought of being in her hands actually caused butterflies in my stomach.

Mistress Desiree eyed me with interest; if she doubted my sincerity, she did not show it.

“Is that so?” she simply said, eyes piercing into mine.

I fluttered my eyelashes, giving her a cute bashful look. “Apologies, Mistress. Blowing her own horn is very unbecoming for a sissy. This girl should n… whoaaa!”

I tumbled on the couch, after Desiree threw me off her lap. “You’re a smooth talker, pinky, I’ll give you that,” she said. “But actions speak louder than words. Let’s see you back them up.”

Surprised and startled, any infatuation I felt for this amazon had evaporated, and as she leaned over me I felt like a deer in the headlights. “So you want to be mine?” I heard her say. “Well, be careful what you wish for.”

She pushed her lips on mine, and her tongue wormed its way into my mouth.

I felt her tug my leash, pulling me upright. Not once did her tongue stop probing me.

I gasped for air when she finally pulled back.

“Forward, girl. On your knees,” she told me.

In my mean boots with the towering heels, a ribbon connecting the ankles, that was not straightforward at the best of times. But now I was flush with both apprehension and a little desire, and I was outright clumsy.

A sharp ‘thwack!’ on my inner thigh and a little push forward hurried up the process, as I ungracefully fell on my knees.

I yelped. “Today please,” Mistress Desiree replied impatiently, holding her crop.

With practiced efficiency, she grabbed my wrists and brought them together behind my back. With her thumb she pushed my hand in a wrist lock (standard procedure just in case a sissy intends to become unruly), and then I heard metal-on-metal as she chained my cuffs together.

But she wasn’t done; she took hold of the ribbon between my ankles, and looped it several times around each leg, effectively tying my feet close to one-another.

Her crop struck my behind. “All done,” she said contently as I cried out.

She stood in front of me admiring her handiwork. Hands on her hips, weight on one leg, her black leather outfit perfectly accentuated her hourglass figure. In another life, I could only dream of a women like her. As a subjugated sissy, she remines me of a coiling serpent.

A hard slap in my face interrupted my musings. “No eyeballing, girl” She said casually. At least she hadn’t used her crop.

“Eyes front, while I get ready. No peeking.”

She walked around me, her crop playfully stroking the exposed flesh of my leg.

Bound, subjugated and perfectly sissified, I could only wait as I heard her rummage through some cupboard.

“No… No… Hell no…” I heard her mutter. Then she barked a laugh. “Oh, this is perfect.”

I fought the temptation to glance in her direction. If my training hadn’t kicked in, then the thought of her crop and a sense of self-preservation certainly would have.

I heard her fiddle with the item she found. My heart was starting to pound, and my discomfort increasing. Surely she had found some horrible contraption she would subject me to. And there was nothing I could do to prevent it.

Her heels thudded on the carpet as she walked over towards me, and a slight panic came over me. I began to feel an urge to jump up and make a run for it, and my bonds suddenly felt much more restricting, as if they picked up on it. I tried not to whimper. Then Mistress Desiree stepped in front of me, and…

…nothing. Well, not nothing, she was wearing a strapon, but a rather modest one. Mistress Margot had subjected me to worse. Quite a relief. Almost anti-climactic, really.

Mistress Desiree, proudly stroked the shaft of the rod. “You like it?” she asked me half-domineering, half-giddy.

“…Well… Actually… Yes, Mistress,” I replied sincerely. I still didn’t like the thought of getting pegged by a strapon, of course, but all things considered this didn’t look so bad.

“Now then, Cheryl Pink Panties. You want to be mine, and mine alone? Want me to protect you from those other mean mistresses? For which I only require… your undivided attention?” She said that last bit rather ominously.

I gulped. I got wat I wanted, but did I really want what I got? Still, I was in no position to back out now.

“Yes, Mistress Desiree,” I heard myself say.

She pointed the strapon at my face. “Then let’s seal the deal, honey.”

I took a deep breath, and parted my lips. I took the tip in my mouth.

It tasted funny. Unlike any other dildo I had tasted before. Most were made from rubber. Whether they were soft and floppy, or hard enough to be cut from a tractor tire, they all had that typical sharp flavor. My ivory-colored lollipop hardly had any flavor at all, like it was cut from glass (perhaps it really was polished ivory?).

But this was something else. More like… latex? Sillicone? Don’t know. But it was a flexible material, with some hard parts at the center. And what were those spots I felt with my tongue? Was that metal?

But I had been drilled thoroughly and incessantly in fellatio, so some unfamiliar material did not bother me. I gently moved my lips further along the shaft and… Oof!

“Hurry up, will you?” Desiree said as she rammed the penetrator deeper. She grabbed my hair and tugged hard while she pushed her hips.

“Humpfh!” I protested, my practiced technique rudely interrupted.

The pulled and pushed until my lips touched her harnass. I was glad the stapon was not particularly big, preventing me from gagging.

Forcefully, Mistress Desiree began to move the dildo in and out, still holding me tight. I heard her gasp, and began to suspect there was another extremity at her own end.

She moved the strapon in and out, while I did my best to use my lips and tongue as a sissy should.

“Comfy?” She finally asked as she fucked my mouth.

“Huff,” I replied noncommittal.

Then, suddenly, a bright flash struck me.

… What the hell was that, I grunted, dazed and confused. I felt thunder roll across my face, skin tingling.

“How about now?” Mistress Desiree asked casually.

I tried to look up at her face, her hand keeping me firmly impaled on her strapon.

What just happened, I tried to say despite the cock in my mouth. But instead there was another flash; no, an explosion. In my mouth.

“I didn’t say stop, did I?” Mistress Desiree told me.

Perplexed at what just happened, I tried to regain my composure, but failed.

“Just a little shock,” Desiree said. “Nothing serious. A pinprick, really. To spice things up a bit.”

I tried to think. A shock? What? Huh?

She help a sort of remote where I could see it. Two light were green: ‘power on’, and ‘charged’.

“Ever had cock yet?” Desiree asked me. “Not the fake you have in your mouth right now, but real, flesh and blood dick? Warm, throbbing, slick and tantalizing. Don’t answer that; you are not done with this fake one yet. Put some effort into it. Anyway, a dildo is a poor substitute. Inert. Dead even. It just doesn’t tickle the nerves like the real thing.”

Another flash. A lightning bolt ran across my tongue and over my lips. I moaned. Not from pain, not really, but from surprise and unfamiliar sensations.

“…but if you add a little electricity, all those bored nerve-endings suddenly begin to sparkle.”

My eyes went wide. Electricity? She shocked me?

I looked up to her grinning face. Triumphantly she held up the remote. “pretty neat gizmo, huh?”

I panicked, pulling my head back to get that… thing… out of my mouth, but Mistress Desiree firmly held me in place.

“Oh no, sweetheart. You haven’t even experienced its other functionality. Watch this.”

The pushed a button on the remote. I expected another shock, but nothing happened. Then I felt a buzzing in the shaft of the penetrator. Was it a vibrator?

Then it began to get bigger…

“It also contains several solenoid actuators. I have no idea what those are, but apparently they can extend a dildo. And move in remarkable ways.”

The rod now was almost twice as long, making me want to gag. And it stated to wiggle around. I felt like an anaconda was trying to crawl into my mouth!

“Hummpf!” I cried out in dismay.

Desiree moaned in extasy. Her end clearly as lively as mine.

Then, suddenly, she pulled out of me.

“Awesome, isn’t it?” she said as she wiped away a stray lock of hair.

Awesome isn’t the word I had in mind. Still, I tried to smile. “Yes, Mistress,” I said with forced enthusiasm. “If that would be all? This sissy has to report back to…”

She barked a mean laugh. “What? You think we are done? Stupid girl, this was just foreplay. Now that this thing is nice and slick, it is time for the main event.”

I held my tongue, but must have pulled a sour face. “I did tell you I wanted your undivided attention, didn’t I?” she said with a satisfied smirk. “For my favor, you sold yourself to me. That makes you a whore. A slutty whore. But you are my whore now...”

She pushed a button on the remote, and it extended to its full length. “…and I will claim my due.”

Her mean words cut deep, for she had a point. My emotions couldn’t take it, and I began to some uncontrollably.

“Hey now, no tears girl. I never said you wouldn’t enjoy it. Up now.”

She pulled my leash and used the crop to give a tap on my behind. Despite my bounds arms and legs, I managed to get on my heels, still whimpering as I went.

“Oh quiet now,” she said annoyed, “you’re ruining the mood.” She grabbed my pacifier and shoved it in my mouth, stifling my sobs.

“Much better,” she said with a content smile. Another strike with her crop told me to pay attention.

“Stand still,” she said as she raised my skirt and pulled my panties and diaper down. I whimpered as they fell around my bound ankles.

“Oh my,” she said with a remarkably sweet laugh. “Someone is enjoying herself quite a lot.” Her gloved hands went around my hips and towards my erect clitty. I blushed vigorously.

“My is a lot bigger, though,” she whispered in my ear. I felt the strapon push against my behind.

I yelped as I was swept off my feet, and when I regained my senses I looked up to Mistress Desiree. The Amazon in black Leather help my bound form in her hands, carrying me like a babe.

Are all European women this strong, or only the ones I meet?

“Now, relax, honey,” she said with a smile that radiated an amalgamation of passion and wickedness..

Confused, I squirmed in her grip, kicking my legs and grunting in my gag, then I went down again. And I was impaled.

I groaned in my gag as the dildo pushed into me, moving past the sphincter before I realized I was being penetrated. Mistress Desiree had sat down on the couch, and put me on her lap, expertly placing be right on top of her toy.

I groaned, I moaned, I squirmed and struggled, but the dildo was in and would remain in.

“Calm now, pinkie-pie,” Mistress Desiree cooed. “Take it easy. Let the fun-wand do its magic.”

I didn’t want to take it easy; I wanted to freak out. I wanted to get out of this madhouse. I wanted to scream and cry and kick and run. But my insane pink outfit, my bonds, my gag, all conspired to keep me silent and in place. And all the while the strapon remained in my rear.

Mistress Desiree was hardly bothered by my obstinance, shifting me around a bit to make herself more comfortable (and me, admittedly).

Finally, she was done, and I stopped my struggling. I just looked pleadingly at Desiree.

She just smiled at me, and pushed the buttons on the remote. “Here we go,” she added.

My throat seemed to constrict, and I watched a light turn green. I braced for the shock.

Lighting struck, and there was an explosion. I cried out.

No, I didn’t cry, I moaned.

It… didn’t hurt. Well, a bit, but it was… remarkable. My every sense in my nether-regions buzzed with ebullience. My sissy-hole tingled. My clitty twinkeled. Every muscle in my waist felt a tight pressure followed by a radiating and relaxing warmth. I gasped for breath.

Now the dildo began to move; It extended. It retracted. It wriggled and moved about, stimulating pressure points in me I didn’t even know existed.

“Gumh. Ungfh. Oompfh.” I muttered into my gag.

“I think she likes it,” Desiree said contently. Her strong form had become soft and relaxed as she enjoyed how the device worked on her.

Following some set program, the strapon worked on the both of us. Pushing and moving, zapping and wriggling, I could only struggle in my bonds as it filled me with a tiring energy. I laughed and cried, both sad and happy as I was subjected to a wicked delight that I was not prepared for and could not process.

Another zap, and I squirmed. I wiggled my bound legs, pulled at my cuffs, and tried to wiggle my behind as a sissy should. Through a haze I saw myself, in my pink sissy-outfit, sitting on a domineering Mistress, getting ravaged by her, and somehow everything seemed right in the world. Then, all this pent up energy sought release, and I came.

I soiled my petticoats and my legs, but I didn’t care. I was spent, but the dildo was still working on me and filling me up for another round.

I found myself leaning in against Mistress Desiree, as a submissive lover seeking comfort in a strong chest or shoulder. I didn’t mind how her hands were now on me; On my back and on my chest, stroking my false boobs. Under my skirt, feeling my butt and stroking my legs. I didn’t mind her cute laugh when she found the sticky spots near my groin, and I definitely did not mind her gloved hand stroking my clitty again.

The gag dropped out of my mouth. I hadn’t even noticed she had untied it. With a soiled hand she grabbed my chin and turned my head towards her. She kissed me passionately, her tongue entering my mouth like a excited serpent. The movements of the dildo were but a pale imitation of the power I felt and tasted in her tongue.

Through a fog of passion and forbidden lust I was dimly aware of a noise; metal on metal. A click of an opening lock, and the groan of a heavy door opening.

The clicking of heels, and two shadows appeared at the edge of my vision. One in a stylish violet dress, the other in bright red latex.

“It’s her turn,” Mistress Jade told Désirée.

She gave an annoyed grunt in reply, then pulled her tongue from my mouth. “Get lost. We’re busy,” she told her colleague, waving them away.

“Hey, you’ve had her long enough,” the red mistress said annoyed. “I want to have a go.”

“I said, get lost,” Mistress Desiree snapped. “This one is mine.”

“Like hell she is,” Mistress Jade said annoyed “I brought her here, I’ve got dibs on her.”

The dildo still was stimulating me, the both of us, but while I was lost in time and space I felt how Mistress Desiree had crashed back to earth because of this rude interruption.

Possessively she wrapped her hands around me, and I felt the steel wringing hidden under her soft flesh.

“You can have Tabitha,” she replied angrily.

“We already had her!” The latex clad mistress said. “Several times. We want to try this one. Besides, I thought you wanted Tabitha?”

That brought me back to attention: where was Tabitha? How was she? What had they done to her?

Somehow Desiree must have noticed my disquiet, because she pushed her hand firmly over my mouth. Clearly, I was to take no part in this argument.

“Listen very carefully,” Desiree told her companions, “Cheryl is mine, do you understand? No get out until I call you!”

“We had an agreement!” Mistress Jade snarled.

“Do I need to remind you I am the First Chair? Do I need to kick you out of the Cloacks?” Desirees furious tone could not hide the shudder that went through her after another zap.

Mistress Jade bared two rows of pearl-white teeth, but said nothing. Instead she turned on her heels and paced back towards the boiler room, muttering something I assumed were very nasty curses in her native language.

The red mistress glared at Desiree, then followed her Asian colleague. The door to the boiler room slammed shut and me and Mistress Desiree were once again alone.

I felt how Desiree began to relax, and he let go of my mouth. She smiled at me and stole a quick kiss.

“Now, where were we? Shall we turn it up a bit?” She said with a grin and wink.

I was picked up, and I groaned at the dildo was pulled out of me. With quick movements the laid me down the couch on my back, and pushed some pillows under my lower back to raise my behind a bit higher and take the strain of my tied arms. She pushed my tied legs upward until they pointed straight at the ceiling, leaning with her torso against them while she sat on her kees right below me. Her strapon was now hidden from my view by my own legs, but I felt it push against my sissy-hole while a beaming black leather clad amazon was about to take her due from me in a new and inventive ways.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

If the time I spent impaled by Mistress Desiree was spent in a daze, I now was trapped in the black fog of a pounding hangover.

Time with her was fluid. I have no idea how long I was with her, but eventually she had her fill. She pulled out of me, threw me off the couch (or was it the table? We changed positions several times), wiped some of my stickiness off her hands with my cheeks and told me to get out. She called for her fellows and from the boiler room the two Mistresses came out escorting a very disheveled Tabitha.

They cleaned us up, a bit. Mistress Desiree roughly slid my plug back into place, pulled up my diaper and panties, and uncuffed my wrists. She left my standard bondage in place, however. Then she put the pacifier back, because why not? Tabitha was released from her harness and put back in her uniform. Her ball-gag never left her mouth. Then as a parting gift they tied our leashes together then shooed us out of the room and into the drab service corridors.

So here we were, two frilly pink sisters of our sorority, collars tied together and hobbled by our outfits, were trying to find our way back to familiar surroundings. The clicking of our heels resounded through the silence of the corridors.

An interesting case of the blind leading the blind; Tabitha looked like she went to quite an ordeal, but I could not ask the specifics and she could not tell. But there was also concern on her face, concern for me. Clearly my experience had left its marks as well.

Now I was paying the terrible price of Mistress Desiree’s attentions and her toy. The bliss was gone, and now I finally experienced the shame and humiliation of my tribulation (not to mention the effects of the alcohol). And an acute awareness that this was just another day at sissy-school, and tomorrow there would be another, and then another. Who knows how many?

Not even my lessons on sissythink could bring me back to that ideal mental state where my sissy persona and me were one and the same. I minced through the hallway in the prim and proper way that had been drilled into me, but in the secrecy of my own mind I revolted against the regime I was being subjected to in this prison masquerading as a school.

So can blame me when I saw a big green exit sign I dreamed of escape and freedom?

I looked back and around. We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. When Mistress jade lured me here we did not come across this door. But who care? Here was a way out. This was my chance!

I talked excitedly into my gag: This door didn’t look as secure as the ones in our own wing. Together we can force it open. It would probably lead somewhere outside, away from this dungeon.

Tabitha couldn’t understand a word I was saying, but at least I got her attention. I gestured to the door, feverishly waving my hands around as if that made my intentions any clearer.

In hindsight, I could have ungagged Tabitha and she could have removed my pacifier in turn. Our elbows were still tied but with our wrist free it should have been possible. But it never came across my mind (nor Tabitha’s I reckon). I prefer to think it was because I still was groggy after Mistress Desiree’s attentions, because I dread the thought that my training and indoctrination was slowly stripping away the self-reliance and independence I took for granted as Charles…

As it was, all I got for my efforts was an blank stare of Tabitha. I awkwardly tried to make her understand. Pointing and gesturing, doing charades, but my sister only looked more and more perplexed. I couldn’t help myself and threw a hissy-fit; stamping my feet and waving my arms, screaming into my gag out of undiluted frustration.

Later on Tabitha would ask me why I suddenly decided to start dancing in place…

I was about to give up when something startled Tabitha, and she frantically began to look around, pointing and waving. Now it was my turn to look confused.

Then I heard it: footsteps. Someone else was in these corridors. And we were not supposed to be here…

A cold dread ran across my spine, all thoughts of rebellion gone. We needed to get out of here, but I couldn’t pinpoint the source of the approaching footsteps. Did they echo from the corridor we had passed, or was it coming from further up?

Now we both were awkwardly waving panicked arms and tittering around on our heels like excited chickens, and would probably have continued doing so until the unseen threat caught us…

…but then an excited Tabitha bumped against the emergency exit, which left the door slightly ajar.

Flabbergasted I looked at the door. All that effort in getting Tabitha to help me force it open and it only needed a gentle nudge? Figures…

My sister interrupted my musings by grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the door. The footsteps we close now; either face the judgement of whoever was about to catch us, or try our luck on the other side of this exit. We preferred the latter option.

Holding hands we hurried through the door, mincing as dainty, prissy and picture-perfect as a pair of sissies could while running for their lives.

We ended up in some narrow back-alley. Simple tan bricks gave the pavement and encroaching wall a monotonous hue that was almost as drab as the bare concrete of the service corridors. The narrow streak of overcast sky above us robbed the scenery of even more of its color. Still, leave it to the Swiss to have a rather tidy back-alley.

Our heels clicked on the weathered pavement as we hurried towards the next corner in the winding alley. My mind was racing; we had done it. We had escaped from sissy-school! But… now what?

Where were we? Where should we go? What about our uniforms? What happens when they discover we are missing?

But despite our lack of an actual destination, we hurried as much as possible to get there. We turned the corner, and promptly bumped into someone else…

“What the hell?!” a riled voice said.

My heart skipped a beat as I saw the familiar outfit of a mistress of house Black Leather. She shot us a glare, then her eyes widened in surprise.

“Cheryl? What on earth are you doing here?” she asked.

My fright had blinded me to the obvious, but then her sweet voice, her exposed belly-button and long blond hair registered in my mind.

Automatically I bobbed a prim curtsey. Hello Mistress Anna, I mumbled into my pacifier.

The novice mistress returned a cute smile, the only flaw of this perfect sight was the cigarette she was holding.

She quickly drew a puff from het cigarette, then said: “And you’re… Tabitha, wasn’t it? Why are the two of you outside? You’re not supposed to leave the complex. Do you know how much trouble you are in?”

I didn’t give any response; I had a idea, but even then the thought of escaping this madhouse trumped my fear.

Apparently she mistook my silence as an accusation. She shyly took the cigarette out of her mouth. “Yeah, I know. Neither should I. But just because the staff thinks this is a bad habit doesn’t mean I should go cold turkey.” She took one more huff and dropped the cigarette on the floor, extinguishing it with the sole of her shoe.

“But what are you two… oh, one moment,” she said, then leaned in to unstrap my pacifier. “…you two doing here? Are you lost? How did you get out of the sissy-wing?”

Words formed faster in my mouth than my mind could properly order them. “We lost our way in the service corridors. After Mistress Desiree Black kicked us out. Mistress Jade Violet brought me in but Tabitha was already there. She opened the door even I told her I wasn’t allowed. We found an exit but when I wanted to open it it was already open and now we are outside but I don’t know what to do now…”

“Whoa, slow down, girl,” Mistress Anna replied. “You are making no sense.”

I tried to control the flow of words. “You need to help us, Mistress. The Black Cloaks… they’re insane. Everything here insane. It’s a madhouse. We must get out of here. We need to escape!”

She looked at us with concern. “Calm down, Cheryl. Take a deep breath. Relax. Now listen, you cannot say things like that, or you’ll get into serious trouble.”

That was not the response I had hope for

“Now let’s get you two back inside,” Mistress Anna continued. “If I tell them you simply got lost they’ll go easy on you…”

“What? No! I cannot go back,” I snapped, forgetting my place. “I need to escape from these maniacs! You must help me get away! The mistress, they are mean! Insane!”

Mistress Anna’s expression turned dark. “Watch your tongue, Cheryl,” she said sternly. “You are talking about your betters. Calm. Down.”

I barely heard her, lost I was in my growing hissy-fit. I began to flap my arms in frustration, stamp my feet in exasperation. “I should not be here! I am not with Mistress Margot! I should be with Mistress Christina! And Desiree and Jade and the red one are a couple of bitch…”

Slap!

My body was frozen in place. My face burned. I looked at her face, her expression indominable. Her hand held up ready for a second cuff on the cheek. Et tu, Brute?

“Don’t test me, Cheryl…” she told me coldly.

I began to cry.

“You do not understand,” I whimpered. “They… she… they are meanumpfh!”

Mistress Anna sighed as she shoved the pacifier back into my mouth.

“Save it, girl. I do not want to hear it,” she said with some sadness, while securing the straps of my gag. “I hate to do this, Cheryl. I really do. But you leave me no choice. Now, let’s get you back indoors.”

You, you cannot do this I cried. My tantrum came back with a vengeance. All I could manage was some impotent flapping and stamping, but Mistress Anna’s patence was already spent.

Twack!

I groaned as her crop hit my thigh. She whipped me, I thought. I cannot believe she would whip me. Mistress Anna was supposed to be the nice one…

Smack! With a flick of her wrist she landed the tip on my left hand.

Ow! You bitch! You Judas! I cried into my gag. You…

She grabbed the leash connecting me to Tabitha, and gave it a hard tug. She stepped aside as I stumbled forward, and land a series of strikes on my behind.

Any cursing was quickly replaced with meek pleading.

Mistress Anna nodded to herself, clearly satisfied she had regain control of the situation. “Are you done, girl? Blown off some steam? Good. That way. Now march.”

A soft warning tap of her crop got me moving without further fuss.

Tabitha, who had tried to be invisible during this alteration, immediately followed suit. She took my hand and held it was we minced down the alley. I don’t know if it was trying to be comforting or if she hoped it would prevent me from throwing another troublesome fit, but I was glad for this sign of companionship.

We left the alley and stepped onto the square in front of the school’s main entrance. A final indignity waited for us there.

…tourists.

Even if Freistaat was technically private properly and a closed commune, a measure of outsiders were allowed to see and experience the warped microcosm of sissyville. And here was a small group being led around by one of the locals, a mistress who moonlighted as a tour guide for her adopted home.

At this hour there were few kinky sights around, so of course the two hobbled fairies being force-marched around by a crop-wielding Mistress drew all the attention.

“it seems we are in luck,” the tour guide said with a chuckle. “Some of the school’s students are out and about today. Looks like two of the sissies have been a bit naughty. Luckily, the institute also trains women on how to deal with them. Let’s give this young lady a round of applause.”

There was some amusement, but also genuine respect from the visitors as they applauded for Mistress Anna. From the corner of my eyes I saw how Mistress Anna, despite her best efforts to look steely and professional, acquired a shy blush. She returned a slight nod in acknowledgement but otherwise tried to ignore the interlopers.

“Hurry up, girls,” she told us impatiently. “Let’s get inside.”

“And how about some appreciation for the two naughty little sissies?” the guide called out.

Now the group burst out in laughter, cat-calls, wolf-howls and lewd comments. I felt myself turning red and suddenly being returned to my prison did not seem all bad anymore.

With the whistling and enthusiastically chatting tourists behind us, Mistress Anna led us up the Romanesque stairs of the front gate. She placed us in front of the main gate.

“Now be good and don’t say a word,” she said while trying to make us a bit more presentable.

…given we were both still gagged, the second warning seemed a bit redundant.

She flashed a badge over a sensor and the forbidding door swung open.

and tried flashed a badge across a sensor, and the forbidding door swung open on its own.

Mistress Anna straightened her back. Adopted a grim expression, and struck us both on the rear.

“Inside, you two!” she roared as we yelped.

No I understand she needed to show proper predominance over two wayward girls; mistress are watched, judged and graded almost as much as the sissies. But did she really need to hit us so hard?

My behind burning, I minced into the lobby where Mistress Christina had dropped me off and where my misadventures in the institute began. I did my best to look and act prim and proper to avoid further chastisement. Thus ended my ill-conceived escape attempt.

“Halt,” Mistress Anna told us. “Stand at attention. Position 3. Don’t move, and be silent.”

There was no-one else in the hall, but Mistress Anna paced over to an intercom. She pushed a button.

“Miss Wachter, please,” I heard her say. Some clicking as a connection was established.

“Miss Wachter? Anna Black speaking. I found two of your wards. Yes. Cheryl and Tabitha. Where? Outside, in the back-alley. I have no idea how they got there. They were… lost. And very confused. No, I’m sure they meant no trouble, but just took a wrong turn or two. Some mistress must have left a door unlocked or something. Yes, I’ll bring them to your office.”

Another click as the connection was broken, and Mistress Anna walked over to us. She took out a tiny emergency make-up set and applied some blush on my tear-streaked face.

As she worked, she talked softly. “When you are before Miss Wachter, answer her questions truthfully. But… avoid mentioning any ‘escape’, all right?”

I gave a tiny nod, and Mistress Anna closed her make-up set.

“This will have to do,” she said sternly. “I expect you to clean yourself up when Miss Wachter is done with you. Now march. Back to your dormitory, pinkies”

A encouraging tap with the crop signaled me to start moving, and my heels clicked as they carried me back towards my pink prison.

+++++++++++++++

Miss Wachter was rather lenient with us. In her office she had us stand at attention and with a cold expression just said “Explain yourselves.”

I told her about how Mistress Jade told me to come with her, my visit to the Black Cloak’s clubhouse, being kicked out again without an escort, getting lost in the service corridors, finding the door and going through it, and being found outside by Mistress Anna. Tabitha told something similar.

We left out the more controversial parts of the story; It is very bad form accuse a mistress of overstepping her mandate, so our ordeals at the clubhouse were left unsaid. And we took Mistress Anna’s advice about not mentioning my ill-advised, poorly conceived and badly executed escape attempt.

Miss Wachter hardly said a word. I don’t know if she believed us, or if she inferred more than we told. Her cold stare was unreadable. Sharp eyes just observing us as we babbled.

Finally she said: “So… you left your designated area at the insistence of your superiors. And without proper escort gotten yourself lost in the maze of the service area, correct? So there are extenuating circumstances. Still, that does not excuse the fact that you were somewhere you shouldn’t have been. Outside even…”

She tapped her fingers on her desk, thinking.

“Lift your skirts and bend forward,” she finally said, grabbing a paddle from a drawer. “Twenty should do for now.”

After our chastisement the second part of our sentence was clean-up duty. We were separated, with Tabitha sent to the kitchen and I to a mistress lounge that had devolved into a pigsty.

I was to make it spotless in three hours. Quite a challenge. Fortunately my regular bonds had been removed. And it beats getting another spanking. In fact, I was actually looking forwards to a few hours of solitude.

Imagine my annoyance when I heard a familiar voice at the doorway.

“Hey there, dum-dum. Whatcha-doing?”

“Hello Buttercup Pink Panties. What a pleasure to see you again,” I said with my best behavior, but couldn’t fully suppress a sarcastic tone.

She barked a laugh. “You are so stupid, Cheryl. There are no microphones or cameras here. You can speak freely.”

“…Is there something I can do for you?” my conditioning prevented me from getting rude, but I injected some hostility in my tone.

With dainty steps she fluttered into the room like a pretty fairy, heels gently ticking. She held her hands outwards delicately. She looked the part of a picture perfect sissy, if it wasn’t for that sneer she had around her plumb red lips.

“What? Can’t I check up on my dear sister? I heard you had somewhat of an adventure. I’m surprised you can walk. And talk, for that matter. Did they go easy on you? Or not hard enough for your liking?” Her wide grin contrasted with her otherwise flawlessly executed demure posture.

“Leave me alone,” I replied. I switched to position 4, straightening my legs and back, hands folded in front of me, making damn sure my technique was perfect. I didn’t want to be a sissy but now that I was, this hussy was not going to outshine me!

Her grin disappeared as she sized me up. I had thrown down the gauntlet. Would she pick it up?

She did. Her skirt flared out as she twirled on her feet, making half a turn then sashayed across the room, making sure I got a firm look at her behind.

“Oh don’t be such a sour-puss. There is no shame if you enjoyed it. The world needs dumb and slutty bimbos too.” Her gloved hands moved to accentuate every word.

“Well, you should know, don’t you?” I replied with my girly voice as I minced over to her, my feet following a straight line, with hands and fingers pointed outwards with the perfect angles. My eyes and mouth radiating the bedufflement and sexy innocence that dominants love.

A sissy needs to strike an impossible balance between being a sultry bimbo and prissy innocence. Being expressive without actually expressing yourself. A nonsensical paradox, but in practice it meant I had to move as feminine and dramatic as possible while doing hardly any moving at all.

She watched my performance, and I saw annoyance reflected at me. Point to Cheryl.

But she wasn’t done. She turned so I got a good look at her profile, her uniform showing off her firm breasts and long legs. Her skirt barely hid her behind. She bent forward to pick up a fleck of dust.

Pretending to inspecting the particle, moving her hands around, then casually flicking it away, she said: “Don’t kid yourself, airhead. You may be some perverted guy, dressing up in drag, but I am a real woman. I have standards.”

Heels clicked as I got a duster in the most exaggerated way possible, then moved over to the spot the fleck of dust had landed. Slightly spreading my erect legs, bending slightly forward, pushing my boobs outward, standing in a way that was more appropriate for being taken from behind than doing actual house work, I started to clean the spot.

“I am no guy,” I told her as I moved the duster about with delicate movements of my hand. “And you are no woman. Not anymore at least. We are both sissies now. With the same standards.” I turned towards her, leaning on one foot and hands on my hips, giving her a good look at my cleavage. “And I am better at them then you.”

She snorted, very unladylike. “You say that like it is a good thing. Don’t you realize how pathetic you are?” Her tone was rather inappropriate. Clearly I was getting beneath her skin.

I tuned on my heels. My pink boots clicked as I slowly and provocatively stepped over to a table to ‘clean’, making sure she would notice my frilly panties. “Why don’t you go bother someone else? I’ve got work to do.”

She joined me at the table, her thread heavier than usual. “What? Bored of me already?” She said with a grin that contained no humor, only hostility.

“And what are you going to do about it dum-dum?” she said as she glared at me.

“Tickle me with that duster?” her grin became wider. “Or are you going to stamp your feet and throw a hissy-fit?”

“Maybe I will!” I snapped. I heard a sharp click as I unconsciously did stomp my feet while I turned towards her. I crossed my arms before me in the haughtiest stance I could muster. “Everyone loves my cute little tantrums! Yours are just annoying!”

She shot me a murderous glance. “Good thing you are in drag; you really are a bitch,” she said icily.

With my fingertips I raided the hem of my dress and bobbed a mocking curtsy “But not your bitch. Tough luck, Buttercup,” I told her with a smile. “Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”

She walked up to me until she was in my face. Eyes radiated fury, looking as if she was about to punch me.

I felt a tremor of fright go down my spine. Sissies fighting was not just forbidden; it was unthinkable. With my training and conditioning I wasn’t sure I could throw a punch if I could muster the courage to. But clearly her conditioning was less firm than mine…

Time froze as our eyes dueled. The she jolted forward…

…and I felt her lips on mine, tasting her tongue.

Startled, almost frozen, I dropped the duster as she kissed me. I prettily kicked my leg back submissively as I had mercilessly been taught, and was dimly aware she had done the same. I felt her hands at my waist and tight, and my own worked their way up her arms onto her back.

Whether by training of talent, her tongue expertly wrestled with mine as she kissed me passionately. Only with the greatest effort did I manage to pull back longue enough to get a few words out.

“Why? How? I don’t understand…”

“You’re hot,” she simply said as she playfully licked my lips. “So stupid, but so hot.”

We found our way to one of the couches, kissing and touching each other as we went.

I stroked her breasts while she explored the edges of my panties, our lips locked together.

I pulled back to catch a breath. “…I thought you hated me,” I managed to utter.

She gave me a cute smile. “I do. Sort of. It’s complicated.” And that was all the explanation I would ever get.

She pulled down my panties and (fortunately unsoiled) diaper. Her hand immediately found my erect clitty among my petticoats and eagerly she began stroking it as she kissed me.

I was dimly aware that we were committing a serious infraction; a sissy touching herself was bad enough, punishable by whatever wicked sanction a Mistress could come up with. Sissies touching each other? Oh golly…

And yet, I offered no resistance as she leaned into me until I was laying on my back. The taste of her had drowned out all doubt.

She was soft and gentle, but did not let up until my clitty was hard as a rock. I could only moan in extasy.

She sat upright, pulling out a condom she had hidden in her bra.

“Want to see a trick?” she said with a grin.

She tore open the packing and pulled out the pink condom, taking the latex ring in her mouth.

I sniggered sweetly at how funny she looked, the ring of the condom upright between her lips.

“…atch ‘is,” said with her mouth full.

She pulled my skirt up, and I squealed in surprise as she leaned down and I felt her lips around my hard member. She took it in all the way and when she pulled back I felt the pressure of the latax that encased my sissy-clitty.

“Pretty neat, huh?”

She rearranged herself on the couch, pulled down her own panties, then was on top of me.

“Oh...” I could only say demurely are I felt her flower slide over my clitty. She grunted as she put her weight down and I entered her completely.

She began moving about. Up and down and back and forth. I heard us both breath heavily.

I tried to rock my pelvis to her rhythm, but she blocked me.

“No, no,” she uttered. “Let me…”

She resumed her movements, rocking about while she held me down. I gasped as I felt her move around my clitty.

She kissed me, bit my lip and licked my cheeck, all the while moving on my erect member. But she took her time, expertly bringing me to the edge without letting me climax.

I felt her body tighten, herself close to coming. She leaned down and put her mouth firmly on mine. As out tongues danced around another she began to move faster.

Lips together, our gasps and moans were smothered by one another.

Then, with a final push, she let me come into her as she groaned in extasy herself. A few more thrusts as aftershocks, then she collapsed on me. Breathing heavily she sighed.

“Wow, was it is good for you as it was for me?” she said with a smile.

I wanted to say something in affirmation, but her kiss interrupted my train of thought.

She moved off me, and in embrace we laid together on the couch enjoying the afterglow in silence.

Finally, she got up. “I need to go,” she said. “You need to finish, and I cannot be seen here.”

I sat upright, watching her search for her underwear. She picked up some panties, decided they were mine, and threw them at me.

“Better clean yourself up,” she told me as she rummaged through a closet where the Mistresses stored useful item. Among the stationary and sex toys she found a mirror, lipstick and other make-up.

Still warm of the afterglow, and also rather dazed by the unexpected turn of events, I stumbled over to her.

I put my hand gently on her shoulder. “Buttercup…” I said supportive yet noncommittal.

She sighed. “I hate that name. That is not me. Just two more years of this nonsense, maybe three, and I’ll be out. Farewell Buttercup. Hello Diana.”

She was making no sense. “That’s your real name?” I tried.

“It will be. Once Mommy and Daddy affranchise me, I’ll be Miss Diana DuValle. Heck, I may even enroll here as a Mistress,” she explained while applying some blush.

I couldn’t suppress a snigger. “I’d love to see that. Mistress Buttercu… Diana Black. Pride of sissy-school. Scourge of sissies. Chairwoman of the Black Cloaks.”

She shot me a glare, but a hint of amusement was visible in the corner of her mouth.

“Hah. Laugh it up, sissy. But I won’t be a pinkie forever.” She tossed me the make-up set. “A few more years and I’ll be wearing black. You’ll see.”

She straightened out her skirt, and was about to leave.

“Buttercup. Diana, wait!” I called out to her.

She turned towards me with a raised eyebrow.

“Does this mean we are… friends now?” I said with a shy blush.

She walked over to me, and held my hands as she leaned in to kiss me. Once more I tasted her and felt her warmth as her fingers stroked my palms and wrists.

We shared this moment of passion, and when she stepped back she smiled at me warmly. She was still smiling as she took the pacifier gag dangling from my neck and shoved it into my mouth.

It was locked in place before my surprise had barely registered. When I reached up I discovered that she, while we were kissing, had somehow locked my wrist cuffs together

“Sort of. It’s complicated,” she said with a smile as she left me to deal with a dirty room, some mild bondage, and an angry tantrum that produced a fair share of swear words that were muffled by my gag.

Chapter 28: Under scrutiny. Cheryl is assigned a Monitor

Regardless of my misadventures with other students, my training continued inexorably.

I was trained in practical skills like the pigeon-toed stance, the bimbo-pose, the stripper-kick, crossing and switching legs while sitting. Endless drills in curtsies and walking in high heels. Made to memorize the Ten Positions, and how to smile, pout, sulk and even cry in an appropriate manner.

I was taught how to perfect my appearance; how to apply makeup or when to go for pigtails, curls or ponytails. How to inspect and fix my outfit. How to tie ribbons in pretty bows and use them as accessories at nonsensical places. And how to always strive for unachievable perfection.

There where classes in chores; how to wash delicate panties. How to polish shoes. How to clean a room while still looking prim and proper afterwards. Even some cooking lessons.

Then there was the training in behavior; from how to be emotional and suitably cry when chastised, to striking that impossible balance between being a slutty bimbo and a prissy maiden. And how to always smile dimwitted, even if your yaw was numb from sucking dildos.

Ten there were the more esoteric lessons; the self-hypnosis of Sissy-Think. The normal hypnosis that may have implanted certain triggers. The Ten Big Blessings of Being a Bimbo. The history of Forced Feminization. The place of the sissy in the Proper Order or Things.

So many lessons. So many rules! Overcomplicating everything and making straightforward things difficult. Getting fucked doggy-style is easy? Think again! Even when getting ravaged from behind a sissy needs to look as esthetically pleasing as possible. I spend an entire afternoon on all fours keeping my ass up, face forward and my back curved, while keeping my legs and feet stretched and under tension, making sure a maximum angle between leg and heelbone and the navicular bone is higher than my toes (almost impossible with those dreadful boots of mine). A string of mistresses had the time of their life as they dry-humped me. And to this day I still don’t know what a navicular bone is!

All this was thrown at us with at an insanely rapid pace; impossible let it sink in, let alone to master it. In fact, I still struggle with many of the basics.

And yet, despite chastisements of displeased teachers or critical Mistresses, I must have gotten something right; out of the blue I was called into Miss Wachter’s office. Apparently I had ticked off all the boxes of some unseen list and was deemed ready for the next phase of my training. Here I would put into practice what I had learned in the classroom.

I would be assigned a monitor.

I had heard the word before; but I hadn’t realized its importance.

A monitor was a tutor, but also much more than that: she was my assigned dominant. She would advance my training and watch my progress, protect me from her peers in exchange of my submission and obedience to her. Bibi Pink Panties called it exchanging the callous cruelty of multiple Mistresses for a single Mistress’ disciplined and highly regimented cruelty. It was not just some assignment, it was true Dominant-Submissive relationship, according to Miss Wachter one that is closer and deeper than most marriages.

I don’t know if that was true, but it was clear that getting a monitor was a big deal. The school spared no expense on the selection process, which was a strange amalgamation of a beauty pageant, talent show, wedding, auction and job interview.

Miss Wachter casually informed me that the ceremony would be in three days, broadly outlining what was expected of me and strongly suggesting I would prepare and not make a fool of myself; the honor of my House was at stake.

So, after a full day of classes I did my best get ready; thinking up what to say and do. What to wear. My sisters, who had gone through the same process, helped out as best they could (except for Buttercup; her help was cancelled out by her general bitchiness).

Then, before I had properly processed the latest events, I found myself backstage of the main auditorium where the ceremony would be held.

I checked myself up and down in the standing mirror, scanning for the smallest imperfection; a speck of dust, a loose thread, crooked seam. I also saw the reflection of my two sisters as they made some final adjustments.

Bibi Pink Panties fidgeted with a ribbon, while Prissy hummed contently as she pinned some fabric in place to further accentuate my corseted waist.

I was still wearing my uniform, the ultrafeminine pink monstrosity that was as much a mobile prison as a cock-tease’s fevered dream, but it had been further embellished beyond reason. Ribbons. Bows. Scarf. You’d be amazed what you can do with just a few yards of cloth, some sewing lessons, and the threat of a good spanking. Though it really were my sisters whose skill at this craft was remarkable. Bibi made me a sash that didn’t look half bad, and Prissy even managed to make little roses from cloth.

“I think we’re done,” Bibi said.

“Yeah,” I replied with a neutral tone. “I look… incredible.”

Bibi and Prissy smiled widely, taking it as a compliment. And really they should, for what they had achieved with few materials and little time truly was astounding.

“We need to leave. Get ourselves ready for the ceremony ourselves,” Bibi noted. “We’ll be near the stage, cheering you on.”

“Thank you,” I said rather dazed, my eyes fixed on the ultrafeminine beauty in the mirror.

Prissy gave me a soft kiss on the cheek, making sure not to smudge my layers of makeup. “Knock ‘em dead, honey-bunny.”

They left me alone in the little dressing room that was assigned to me, one of several where a sissy was preparing for her moment to shine and face the judgement of the spectators. I would be last, called upon once it was my turn.

I looked around the dressing room, which began to feel suffocatingly small. Waiting here in solitude for something that was inevitable would drive me bonkers. Before I knew if my boots had carried me over to the door and my glove opened the handle.

I found myself in a boring white plastered corridor. Doors on both sides indicated the presence of more dressing rooms. Name tags indicated who was its occupant. I actually did not recognize most of the names; I always assumed that all sissies would go through the Novice class in the Pit first, then join a House for formal training, and then be assigned a monitor. But apparently the boarding school was only part of the services offered by 'Von Wytenbach's Etikette-Schule für junge Damen aller Geschlechter', with various trainings offered on- and off campus, depending on the wishes and finances of the clients. The importance and pomp of this ceremony meant that the administration tried to let all students, whether on campus or far away, have their moment to shine on stage.

“Tiffany Yellow Ribbon…” I read on one of the doors. My rival form the novice class. Of course I would have to share my moment of glory with that hussy! I had only seen her in passing around the school, which was probably for the best as I still hated her guts. She spoils everything she touches. Quickly I passed her door hoping to avoid encountering her.

Another tag drew my attention. I hesitated, but then I gently tapped the door.

“Almost done,” a sweet voice replied hurriedly. “Just a few more minutes. You can come in, if you like.”

I opened the door and as quietly as my heels allowed I entered the dressing room. In a standing mirror, identical to the one in my room, I saw the reflection of a pretty girl touching up on her make-up. She was dressed up as a Blue Bonnet, but with small changes to her uniform to make her look more risqué. Her signature bonnet had been replaced with an elaborate hairband that accentuated her intricate hairdo.

The girls reflection looked up at me. “Cheryl?” she said surprised.

“Hi Danielle,” I said with a weak smile.

“you shouldn’t be here, if they catch you…” she said alarmed.

“I know, I know. It’s just… I wanted… I mean…” I muttered.

She didn’t turn around, just kept facing the mirror as she applied more eyeliner.

“You look beautiful,” I finally said. “Blue really is your color.”

“Thanks. Perhaps they’ll let me keep the dress when I graduate,” she snarked.

I sighed. “Please don’t be like that. I only…”

“Why are you here, Cheryl?” she asked with a tense tone, applying eyeliner to the same spot for the third time in a row.

A sense of resignation came over me, but I still smiled. “Just… good luck up there. Knock ‘em dead, okay? And… take care.”

She stopped fumbling with the pencil “I’ll be fine. I just have to suck it up, do my thing, and then Gretchen will become my monitor. She’s all right.”

“You know who your monitor will be?” I asked surprised.

“Who else than their star pupil to train the heir of the Rosenberg estate? It’s all rigged,” she answered grimly. “I’m sure your monitor has already been assigned too.”

“But the ceremony…”

She barked a laugh. “The ceremony? One big farce. Simply another opportunity to get a good laugh at our expense… Ah! Shoot!”

“What?” I asked in surprise.

“I overshot with my pencil,” she called out in dismay. “Oh, no, no, no, no! My make-up, its ruined! And I’m almost up!”

Her hands jumped panicky across the vanity table, picking up and dropping various items. “Where is the remover?” she called out, almost crying.

I minced over to her, putting my hands on her shoulders. “Relax, Danielle. I’m sure it’s not that bad. Let me take a look.”

She turned around and for the first time since I entered she faced me directly. Here expression was frantic, eyes close to tears. I inspected the tiny smudge above her eye.

“It’s okay. We can fix that.” I grabbed a tissue, splashed a few drops of water on it, and carefully cleaned the spot.

“There, just a touch of eyeshadow…” I grabbed a brush and palette, and gently applied a few layers. “…and the eyeliner…” I took the pencil from Danielle.

“You are gorgeous,” Danielle suddenly said.

This startled me enough to almost drop the pencil. “What?”

“You are gorgeous,” she repeated. “You’re sweet. Wonderful. I wish you would be my monitor.”

I felt a blush coming up, but also did not know how to feel about this confession.

“Now you’re just being silly,” I tried to say in a light-heated tone. “You have cold feet, that is all. Now hold still while I finish this…” I applied the final touches with the eyeliner. “There, all done.”

And not a moment too soon. Three heavy knocks pounded the door. “It’s time Danielle. Come out girl,” the maître des cérémonies called.

Flustered, Danielle turned to the mirror. “Do I look alright? It is okay? Are my seams straight?” she asked nervously.

“You’re fine. Perfect. Now get out there.” I gave her a soft peck on the cheek, careful not to leave a mark.

It calmed her down, a sweet smile on her face and a blush on her cheeks.

She straighten her posture in a perfect nr. 5. “I’m ready,” she said resolutely.

“Good. Now break a leg.”

She looked at me surprised. “Huh? Why would you say such a thing?”

Now I was startled. “Er… what? For good luck, of course!”

“By breaking a leg? That’s bad luck.”

“No! It’s… it’s a figure of speech. It means I wish you good luck.”

“By wishing me a broken leg? That is stupid!”

“Er…”

Suddenly the door opened on its own. “Danielle Blue Bonnet, come out of here this instance!” The maître called annoyed. “We are waiting for you and… Cheryl Pink Panties?! What are you doing here? I told you to remain in your room until called!”

I shot into inspection pose, legs together and hands in front of me. “This sissy is very sorry Miss. She… gah!” A quick slap on my behind with her rod of office shut me right up. She grabbed my earring and dragged me towards the door.

“Save it. Get back to your room and stand at attention until I come for you, or I swear you’ll go on stage with red butt-cheeks,” she said as she pull-pushed me out of the room, making me stumble in my heels. “Danielle, follow me. Showtime,” I hear her say as I hurried back to my own dressing room, nursing my sore ear.

+++++++++++++

I didn’t see anything of Danielle’s ceremony at the time, just standing at attention in the corner of my room looking pretty and making sure to smile every time the maître came to check if I hadn’t scurried off again. I only picked up some occasional sounds of music, cheers, laughter and applause coming from down the hall. But I did see the recording made to commemorate the event.

Danielle did great, as I knew she would. She looked so pretty as she performed her routine, and the audience clearly approved. She owned the stage as she smiled and laughed and danced and sang. And there was that adorably cute blush she had on her cheeks as she answered their questions.

Though it is hard to put your finger on it, she had that aristocratic air that presumably she has in her blood, being a scion of an ancient noble family and all. I fully understood why Mistress Christina desired her, much to my envy. And it ended much as she predicted; Miss Gretchen became her monitor, and I could see a combination of relief and not small amount of pride that it was over and that she did not disappoint.

Another sissy that I had never seen before was next in the ceremony; she was a bit older. Probably one of the off-campus students that came over just for this event. She got a monitor even older than her, which I had never seen either but I later learned was her lawful wife. Perhaps Danielle was right; the assignment process was rigged.

Tiffany was before me, and she did well enough, I suppose. She got assigned to a Mistress of the Red Latex house that I did not know personally, but had a reputation for being both meticulous, critical, and did not spare the rod. That made me smile.

“Showtime, princess,” the maître called out as she opened my door. “Let me have a quick look at you… Position five, Cheryl. Good. Now turn around. Position number three. Huh, a loose thread here… nothing anyone will notice, but I’ll mark you for discipline later. Half-turn dexter. Number seven. Chin up. Look left. Your other left, Cheryl! Now right…. Yes, just let me fix that lock of hair… Excellent. Twirl around. Face the door, position one.”

With her off-hand she attached a leash to my collar (for the ceremony I did not wear my regular chains), but did not put tension on it. Instead with her other she gently took my own hand took my hand as she escorted me out of the dressing room. “You look golden, honey,” the maître said with honest tone. “I’m sure you’ll do us proud.

+++++++++++

The maître’s kind words warmed my heart, but it battled the cold chill of fright that went further down my spine with each click of my heels that brough me closer to the auditorium.

Remember the routine I practiced, my inner voice said. Remember my lessons. Always smile. If I get confused, just smile and giggle to the audience. What if I am no good? What if they don’t like me? Do I even want them to like me? Do I look okay? I look like a ultra-feminine idiot! Why am I seriously considering going on that stage and further humiliate myself? Who is in the crowd? Will my sisters be there? Will Danielle see me? Who is going to be my monitor? I hope she is nice. Will she be mean? I hope I won’t cry.

“Hold here,” the maître told me, and she let go of my hand. Getting into her position ahead of me she put tension on the leash. I pulled back a bit to maintain a balanced number one: my elbows at my sides, arms out, wrists limp, fingers spread, legs straight and ankles together, shoulders back and bottom slightly out, looking demurely down-and-forward.

Just around the corner was the side entrance to the main stage, and its bright lights reflected on the walls to cast some illumination at the otherwise dark and dull offstage area.

From here I couldn’t see the audience, but I could definitely hear them. A chicken coop of cackling and chattering voices, each one drowning out the others. I could barely distinguish them, most were probably French or German, but some English too. And they were clearly quite happy; their tone relaxed, amused and enthusiastic. The spectators were clearly enjoying the show.

A feedback hum cut through the din, and a metallic voice admonished the audience.

“Calm down, ladies,” the Baroness herself spoke. “I know you are all eager to congratulate our lucky sissies and their diligent tutors, but please quite down and get back to your seats. There is still one more of my pupils in need of a monitor, and though she is last, she is most definitely not least. The Wyttenbach Schule is proud to present to you the latest member of a House that is small in number but oh so great in its potential. And this remarkable girl encompasses everything what we value in its members. Ladies, Mistresses, staff and visitors, may I present to you Cheryl Pink Panties!”

Music began to blare from unseen speakers; my entrance would be liven up with Aqua’s ‘Barbie Girl”.

The maître held up her rod, shook it to the rhythm of the beat. “Attention, girl. On the count of three. One, two, three, step.”

Our heels clicked in unison with each other and the music. Keeping the leash taut she guided me forward, around the corner and onto the stage.

Maintaining my posture as she guided me across the podium, I diligently kept my gaze front and down. But the audio barrage was overwhelming. Cheers, applause and cat-calls thundered up from the audience. They loved what they saw and what they saw was a sissy on a leash tittering on her heels in her pretty outfit. I felt my cheeks light up in an amalgamation of perverse pride and bashful shame.

The maître guided my across the floorboards along a 8-like path. Then made me face the audience. She unclipped the leash and inconspicuously retreated backstage. I now was all alone on stage and in the universe as I faced my audience.

They were surprisingly hard to see, despite the abundance of light. Several floodlights aimed at the podium and spotlights pointed at me directly blinded me somewhat. Still, I could take in my surroundings.

The room was not that big, but the chairs were almost filled to capacity with all sorts of girls and women, scattered about without apparent rhyme or reason. Many were from the school; Mistresses in their House livery; a gaggle of sissies was also present, including my sisters of the Pink Panties, each one escorted by her own monitor. I was quite relieved that Bibi and Prissy were present. Heck even Buttercup’s frown and sulk was a welcome sight.

There was some staff present, and involuntarily a shiver ran down my spine when I saw the hulking figure of Frau Ochsenhorn leaning against the wall.

A lot of the women I did not recognize, and quite a few of them did not wear anything that marked them out as part of the school. Most didn’t even look that conspicuous, dressed in tidy but conservative outfits, especially compared to the riot of fetish wear present. Off-campus Mistresses perhaps? Otherwise interested parties? But who in her right mind would be interested in something like this?

I also saw Danielle, sitting next to Miss Gretchen who possessively held her hand. She looked twitchy, her head turning to-and-fro as if she desperately wanted to both watch and look away.

Some more familiar faces filled the front row seat. Dead center there was Mistress Anna, looking ever more comfortable in her Black leather livery. As our eyes crossed she gave me smile, wink and a subtle wave. It gave we a warm feeling.

Two seat further I saw Mistress Desiree, and her look was far less comforting. Predatorial, and far too eager. I felt myself gulp. What if she tried to become my monitor? I did not want to be in the same country as her, let alone be her ward.

Mistress Desiree said something to a young woman sitting next to her, nodding in my direction. I did not recognize her, and she wasn’t wearing any uniform so she probably was from off-campus. Certainly not much older than I was, she was a striking lady with jet black hair and a preference for dark makeup that contrasted with her light skin tone. Her outfit was mostly black and dark blue, with a somewhat old-fashioned or even decadent style. Perhaps she was a Goth? In this room she appearance was quite restrained, but anywhere else she would have stood out.

And yet, it wasn’t her make-up or clothes that drew my eyes to her. While everyone else in the audience had far to much interest in me and were all fired up, she just seemed… bored. Disinterest and mild annoyance radiated from her face. It seemed so off that my gaze lingered a bit too long on her, and suddenly she locked eyes with me. For a moment I felt trapped in a the cold light of her eyes, and I quickly looked away.

To my left, at the edge of the stage behind a lectern, was the Baroness herself. She was dressed as any other principal; combination of power suit and casual chic. She gave me an approving look as she shuffled her notes, waiting for the audience to get a handle on their excitement.

And my, they were excited! No longer content to shout out compliments, cat-calls or rude offers, several began throwing items on the stage. Some members of the Violet Velvets were carrying baskets with flowers that they threw at the stage, several landing near my heels. Not to be outdone two Mistresses of Red Latex pelted me with pieces of female undergarments, that fortunately did not land anywhere near me. And though I never found out who, a loud thud to my left indicated someone had thrown a sizable dildo on stage.

As a sissy never interrupts while her betters are having their fun, I waited for most of the ruckus to die down. Then I bobbed a prim and proper curtsey, drilled to perfection, towards the audience, and another solely for the Baroness.

More cheers of approval, and also a few shouts of ‘call that a curtsy?’ or ‘that was pathetic!’, but the baroness took to the microphone as the music dropped in volume until it was little more than background noise.

Her amplified voice called out across the auditorium, finally shutting up even the most rambunctious Mistresses.

“Welcome, my dear. Please, introduce yourself,” the baroness asked me. Her tone was very maternal. I would dare say she even sounded rather proud of her work. So different from the strict and domineering woman I met when I just arrived.

I gave a cute giggle, as I faced the baroness. “Thank you very much, Headmistress. This sissy is so happy to be here. Her name is Cheryl Pink Panties.”

I folded my hands in front of me in a shy pose, threw a pretty look over my shoulder towards the audience and finished it off with a small but dainty back kick and a short clicking step.

I heard a buzzing coming from the audience as my response was being scrutinized.

“You look lovely, Cheryl. What a pretty outfit you have,” she continued.

I looked down in fake surprise, as if I was caught off guard by the compliment. I turned my hips around to make to seemingly look at my outfit while the dress flared up around me. I smiled sweetly as I pretended for the compliment to sink in, then casually twirling around, gently spinning on my heels to give everyone a good look and curry more favor. “Oh, you are too kind, Headmistress. I am just wearing my uniform, teehee. But my sisters worked very hard to make it even prettier.”

If you think the questions were banal, and my answers even more so, you would be right. But you must understand what was happening in this phase. I was asked questions and I gave answers, yes, but no-one cared what I actually said.

During my classes on sissythink it was imprinted on me that words out of a sissy’s mouth are as wind; banal, ignorant, incorrect, a nuisance if not outright lies. Body language however, that tells the careful observed the deeper truths that cannot be hidden. The smallest hesitance can prove a lie to a thousand promises. Conversely, a tiny gesture done well can reveal incredible commitment or an unsurpassed level of training.

“So what do you love most about your outfit?”

I grabbed the hem of my dress, lifting it up slightly as I innocently looked down at my boots. “The heels, Headmistress. Definitely. Seriously. I mean, they are so high they make me walk so delicately, so cute. It makes everyone happy.“ I threw another stripper kick for emphasis. “And that makes me happy in turn.”

We went back and forth like this for a while, me using each question to subtlety show of my skills to the audience. I even managed to blush at appropriate moments.

The mistress turned the page of her notes.

“Now then, sweetheart. I have been told you have some very special talents. Would you please show your audience.

“I’d love to, Headmistress,” I replied with a light-heartened tone, but I am sure everyone saw me gulp apprehensively.

I heard the music change, and the tunes of a familiar nursery rhyme came from the speakers.

Anxious, but maintaining my focus, I waited for the musical que to start the routine I had been preparing.

My lips moved as I silently counted. One, two, three, go!

“I'm a little sissy, sweet and pretty,” I began to sing as I daintily strode across the stage, heels clicking to the beat of the music, while I moved my arms around in a predetermined pattern to emphasize my features.

I stomped my heels on the ground, ankles together, facing the audience. I bent forward while keeping my legs straight, giving the audience a good look of my cleavage. “These are my boobies…”

I straightened my back and raised my skirt to a tantalizing level. “…This is my clitty.”

“When I get all dolled up. Hear me weep!” I continued mincing around the stage, careful not to trip on any underwear or that large dildo.

“Then take your strapon…” I only had to think about Mistress Margot and the Penalty Box to put a suitably distressed expression on my face

Standing sideways, so that everyone could see me in profile and inspect my curves, I stuck out my behind in a very provocative manner, while my eyes radiated frightened confusion. “…And push in deep1”

There was absolutely nothing subtle about my performance; this was performing for the people at to very back of the room, with very excessive gestures and movements.

The audience was going into a frenzy, and I felt a perverse sense of pride at their approval. But I wasn’t done degrading myself for their amusement yet.

“I'm a clever sissy, yes it's true,” I sang as I started the second verse.

“There’ so many thing you can make me do.” Finger to the side of my face, looking up sideways with an expression of an airhead trying to think.

I dropped the tries-to-think expression, and minced a few steps with an attitude of blissful ignorance. “I will simply frolic and mince about…”

I stopped, back turned towards the audience, looking over my should with eyes and mouth wide in alarm. I raised my skirt and exposed my behind, panties visible for all to see. “…’Till you spank me and make me shout.”

Applause, cheers, whistles from the audience. I felt myself blush at the overwhelming attention I was receiving. Or was it because I was exposing myself to a large crowd? I quickly turned around and dropped a thankful curtsy.

“Well, that is quite a talent, Cheryl,” the baroness spoke. “You made me feel all warm inside!”

Well, I certainly managed to fire up the audience. Still they were applauding. “Encore! Encore!” I heard from among the crowd. And someone yelled “We want more. We want more!”

More women began to join in: “We want more! We want more! We want more!”

“Well, what do you say, starlet?” the baroness asked me expectantly. “Surely you are not going to disappoint your fans?”

“Of course not, Headmistress. This sissy wouldn’t dream of letting the audience down,” I said cheerfully, though in truth I was grinding my teeth. I was hoping I would be done now. I had prepared fall-back performance just in case, and even cooked up some lyrics, but they were much harder to remember and I also hadn’t had time to work out the choreography. I would have to improvise…

I took a deep breath, assumed a pose that hopefully was suitablt submissive yet tantalizing, and waited for the music to change to Nancy Sinatra’s ‘These boots were made for walking.’

When the tambourine jingles began to play, I stepped forward and minced extravagantly in my own boots. When the lyrics started, I fell in with my own version, desperately trying not to stumble on either my own feet or tongue.

“You are saying, you've got something for me.
something long and hard, I would guess.

I’ve been guessing, what your whip will be testing.

And now I’m on my knees waiting in duress.”

I had no idea what I was doing, making up gestures and movement of the spot hoping not to make more of a fool of myself than I already did. Thankfully I chose this song as it seemed natural to draw attention to my legs and not bother with intricate arm and hand movements.

“These boots were made for mincing,

And that's just what they'll do.

And no matter how I beg and plead these boots will present me before you.”

I found my rhythm and tried to mimic the delicate steps of the dancers in the original video clip, as well as Sinatra’s movements. Those that I could remember, anyway.

“You keep binding, so I cannot be moving.

And you keep spanking me, oh-so-bad.

In your hands I know, I oughta be a-crying.

But as as you blindfold me,

I know that I’ve seen nothing yet.”

I made sure my movements were shy, submissive, and a bit frightened. Fitted better with my chosen lyrics.

“These boots were made for mincing,

And that's just what they'll do.

And if I ever run away these boots will drag me back to you.”

A delighted audience clapped their hands to the rhythm of the song, urging me on.

“You keep playing games of you on me preying,

and I know that always, I’ll get burned.

gha!

You just put me in a brand-new set of handcuffs, yeah

and what torments you have, I will dread to learn.”

The lyrics, the movements, all came naturally now. Which was actually kind of frightening in itself…

“These boots are made for mincing,

and that's what they will do.

And every day, these boots are gonna submit me to you.

Are you ready boots? Start mincing!”

I gave it my all during the musical outro, and then the music stopped and I slipped back into Position 1, bobbed a curtsey and waited.

There was a moment of tense silence, broken only whispers of those Mistresses who were discussing my technique.

The Headmistress looked at me in rather stunned surprise. Then she began to clap. And the rest of the audience joined in into a standing ovation.

I received a thunderous applause, and I was absolutely stunned. Women who previously preyed on me and did everything to belittle me were shouting praise. Staff members who had spanked me silly smiled like proud mothers. Even the young woman on the front row had dropped the bored expression and now observed me with interest.

I could do nothing else but blush and bob another curtsy. Negative feedback tends to be the norm for a sissy, so this level of appreciation was kind of overwhelming.

I could get used to this, I thought. Then I remembered that I was forced in drag and act like an idiot for this, so really I should not…

The baroness interrupted my musing. “Thank you for that, my dear. That was very… inventive. In fact, you may have given some ladies here so very naughty ideas.” That elicited some laughs amongst the audience.

She ordered her notes and turned towards the audience. “As you can see, ladies, Cheryl Pink Panties is bursting with potential. And a natural in the feminine arts, having easily grasping advanced skills like walking in four inch heels and fellatio. But such potential requires careful cultivation; she has a stubbornly reluctant side that needs to be both fostered and ruthlessly suppressed. As such she requires strict discipline and regular humiliation.”

Wait, what? Confused I glanced at the baroness.

“Such strictness is quite a burden on any monitor,” the baroness continued, “and requires commitment and diligence. But it allows you to dabble into that potential and perform feats not you of her could have ever imagined. She is earmarked for training as Bimbo Doll, Bondage Babe, Dominated Damsel, Subjugated Servant and Spank Pet…”

I was earmarked for WHAT?!

“…and such a rare combination of skills and goals is exceedingly rare. If you wish to work with clay of such purity, and are strong and ambitious enough to rise to the occasion and mold her further and complete her training, you are invited to bid on her. Cheryl will now answer questions from the audience. Yes, Miss Violet Velvet?”

“Thank you, Headmistress,” one of the Mistresses in blue replied before turning to me. “And thank you, Cheryl, for such a nice presentation. I am sure you do your sponsor proud. Now, can you answer me this: do you suck cock?”

I had barely processed what the headmistress just said, and now this question blindsided me.

“Wait… what?... Er…” I muttered, before remembering I was still under scrutiny. I quickly bobbed a curtsy. “This sissy is happy that… er… apologies, Mistress, can you please repeat the question?”

“It was a very simple question, sissy,” the Mistress in blue told me. “Do. You. Suck. Cock?”

After the communicative dance I had with the headmistress, this question was awkward, rude, and very direct.

“Er… this sissy has never preformed fellatio for real yet, Mistress,” I said hesitantly, not sure if that was good or bad. “But she is…”

“Are you any good?” she asked as she cut me off.

I actually anticipated this question, and had memorized an answer. “This sissy’s performance at fellatio has been graded with five hearts, four ribbons and two stars, Mistress!” I replied enthusiastically.

To this day I do not know what that score meant, but apparently it’s quite good…

Another Mistress was given an opportunity to ask a question.

“Show me your clitty,” she simply said.

Dumbfounded I could barely form a word, let alone come up with a suitable reply. Can she even ask me that? I looked at the headmistress for support, but she just looked down on het notes and completely ignored my plight.

I looked across the audience, looking for help among the crowd. I crossed eyes with my sisters and Danielle. They all answered me with resignation.

“What are you waiting for, girl?” a voice called out of the auditorium. “Are you deaf? Drop those panties!”

“Drop! Drop! Drop!” other women joined in.

I had difficulty maintaining my composure and my posture. Performing my routine on stage, though frightening at times, had given me a measure of control over my life. A few lewd questions from the audience had taken that away again and now I was very conscious of the fact I was powerless, sissified and dominated, and completely at the mercy of a horde of Mistresses that looked they were about to pound me like a pack or hungry wolves.

“Hurry up, girl!” the original questioner called out impatiently. “Or do I need to come over and spank your ass?”

“That… will not be necessary, Mistress,” I managed to utter.

I turned around, bend over and lifted my dress, exposing my pantied bottom to the crowd. I wasn’t just going to drop my panties. No, I was going to make an exaggerated and tantalizing spectacle out of it. My training demanded no less. That was just how things were, and how they were going to be.

At least the audience approved, several whistles and cat-calls being thrown around.

I gently ran the tips of my gloved fingers along the lacy edge of the fabric, slowly pushing them further underneath in a provocative manner. I looked over my shoulder and gave a look like the audience had just walked in pleasuring myself. Boy, they loved that.

Slowly I began to pull my panties down, glad I was not diapered for the ceremony. Sliding them over my stockings and then my boots, making sure the hem of the skirt did not cover my newly exposed flesh.

I stood up erect and turned around, facing the audience. My skirt was now the only thing still covering my clitty. I smiled at the audience, fighting back the tears.

I took up position four, the little-girl-caught-stealing-cookies pose. Legs a bit wider but the tips of my boots pointed inward, looking down remorsefully. I slowly lifted my dress until these mean woman could see my emasculated shame.

More whistles. “Woohoo, you go girl!”

The questioner barked a laugh. “I’ve seen enough, sissy. Put that away.” I eagerly obliged and covered myself up with my dress.

The baroness, who had remain silent during my last ordeal now appointed another questioner. It was Mistress Desiree.

“Hi there, sissy. Tell me, what do you think is an appropriate punishment for… say… dawdling?”

I managed to regain some semblance of my composure. I even managed to smile and giggle. “Why Mistress, a sissy that dawdles needs a firm reminder that her superior’s time is precious. A few slaps with a paddle should remind her of her duty.”

“Only a few slaps?” she shot back at me. “That is rather mild. Sounds to me like you are becoming lax. Want me to become your monitor? My way is far more demanding that a couple of love taps with a paddle, but I’ll assure you a sissy will never be lax again. Want me to be your monitor?” She gave me a wicked smile

“Er… I.. I mean, this sissy would… well…” I stammered, trying to formulate a sentence.

Gah! She is asking to be my monitor, right here before half of the school. If I say no, I will have humiliated her before her peers which a sissy should NEVER do, but if I say yes I’ll be the ward of this leather clad viper.

“Miss Black Leather, please refrain from such questions. Monitors are assigned after the bidding phase. Thank you,” the baroness spoke formly, saving my ass.

Well, for the moment anyway. Desiree snorted at the rebuke, but her eyes were on me. She wasn’t done with me just yet.

“Next question. Yes, Miss Black Leather?”

I was surprised to see Mistress Anna raise her hand. “Thank you, Headmistress. Hi there Cheryl. My compliments on your performance. You are doing great, girl. Now I would like to ask, what is your favorite food?”

Where did that question come from? “Er… Pizza, Mistress?”

“Do you like strudel?” she asked me with a gentle smile?

“… Er …This sissy never had any, Mistress.”

“It’s delicious. Perhaps we can share some sometime.”

“That sounds great, Mistress. This sissy would love to try it,” I replied enthusiastically. If this was an attempt to put me more at ease, it worked. And I suddenly was hoping very much that Mistress Anna would become my monitor.

More questions followed. Some were honest attempts to check if I would match with a Mistress. Most were just for laughs by making me squirm on stage.

Eventually the baroness took no more questions, and the auction phase began.

The auction phase was exactly like it sounded: Mistresses could offer bids on me, she with the highest bid would become my monitor. Only nobody would offer money…

“I bid one hour of lessons in make-up, and another in posture,” one Mistress offered.

“I match your bid and raise twenty minutes of heel-walking lessons. The girl has weak ankles.”

…Instead they bid what they would teach me, or how much time they would spend on me.

It was quite ridiculous; you cannot organize an education like this, can you? Still, the Mistresses seemed nonplussed and enthusiastically bid against one another to teach me anything from a speaking in a feminine voice or orgasm denial to hours of posture and walking lessons. And so it went on, with the baroness moderating the bidding, rejecting any impossible or nonsensical bids.

I quickly found myself the subject of an actual bidding war. It is flattering to be desired like this, but one of the bidders was Mistress Desiree, and she seemed rather keen to win. She matched every bid, and raised with scary sounding things like bondage acclimation and sensory deprivation.

On the positive side, Mistress Anna was bidding as well, and she fought Desiree with tooth and nail. Every other Mistress had already dropped out.

“I bid 2 hours of close mentoring after class for Mondays, and 2 hours of teaching in the evening. Topics include make-up application, the feminine mindset, beauty and hygiene, and etiquette. For Tuesday one hour of posture training and walking in heels, one hour housecleaning duties and half an hour for discipline. For Wednesdays…”

“Hold it, Miss Anna Black Leather, exactly where do you think to find the time for all that work? You have a busy curriculum yourself. Not to mention the fact that your skills in discipline and domination have not yet reached monitor levels.”

“Headmistress, if I rearrange some of my own classes, I can squeeze several hours in. And I should reach the appropriate levels is less than…”

“Save it, Miss. I commend your enthusiasm, but you will not risk your own education. I reject your offer.”

“Headmistress, then I would like to bid…”

“…And I refuse any further offers from you. The last accepted bid was by Miss Desiree Black Leather. Ten hours a week of close mentoring in various topics, with at least two regarding discipline and bondage.”

All the while these women were fighting over me, I could only stand here and look pretty, completely unable to intervene in my own fate. My opinion or whishes were neither necessary or wanted. And now I still had to stand here as the horrible woman would get stewardship over me, forced to smile blissfully as it was happening right before me.

The baroness turned towards the audience. “Last chance raise the current bid. Going once. Going twice...”

“I’ll take her,” a voice called out.

Surprised faces all around. People trying to find the source of this unexpected twist.

“Miss Hattenberg, you would like to join the bidding?” the baroness asked.

Hattenberg? Wait, I knew that name. That was one of Mistress Christina’s friends. A mean woman. But she wasn’t here, was she?

The young woman with the dark hair, make-up and clothes got up from her chair. Her bored expression replaced with a certain glee.

“I will take her,” the woman said again. “She seems fun.”

This Goth-chick was also called Hattenberg? I wondered if they were related.

“And what do you offer to top the last bid, Miss Hattenberg? Bear in mind that I expect a certain level of competence of…”

“Oh, don’t be so dull, Wytenbach,” the young lady said dismissive.

A shocked silence came over the auditorium. Students, and staff, Mistresses and sissies, all looked at the girl who challenged the Headmistress herself in her own domain.

I could almost hear the baroness grind her teeth. “Miranda, perhaps the rules are not clear to you. You need to offer something in order to…”

“How about I offer to talk to mother about your… cashflow problems. I am sure I can make her see your point of view.” The young woman called Miranda said with that bored tone of hers.

I am sure the baroness turned pale.

I looked from the Headmistress, to Miranda Hattenberg, to Mistress Desiree. What was happening here? Who was this girl? What did she want with me? Was she saving me from Desiree? Was the baroness really considering her offer? Was that good or bad?

The baroness stared at Miranda bitterly. “Sold,” she finally said weakly. “To Miranda Hattenberg. Please come take Cheryl into your care.”

Her eyes fixed on me. “Of course,” she said, her bored tone completely gone. Replaced by something… else.

I held my pose as the walked onto the stage. Her thread was different from any other I’ve seen. Not the dainty and submissive minces of a sissy obviously, but also not the strong and confident steps of a Mistress. It was like with each step she radiated indifference. And indeed she did not seem to care at all that the entire auditorium was shocked and appalled by her temerity.

Miranda walked past the baroness’ lectern, and did not wait for her to hand over the leash that symbolizes our new commitment to one another, simply snatching it from the desk.

As instructed before the ceremony, I held our my hand affectionately for my new monitor to take, and guide me off-stage. She walked over to me with that weird grin, and completely ignored my hand, grabbing my wrist instead.

The baroness came over as well to finalize the ceremony.

“Thus concludes the selection of the monitor,” the baroness spoke. Though this was supposed to be a highpoint to the event, like the echancing of vows at a wedding, the baroness sounded like it was a funeral instead.

“Cheryl Pink Panties, you will give your new monitor her due. You will you respect, honor and obey her in all things until you are released from tutelage,” she said to me.

It wasn’t a question. I would not be offered a opportunity to say ‘no’. I bobbed a curtsey and simply said “Yes, Headmistress.”

She turned to Miranda. “Miranda Hattenberg. Will you teach your ward the ways of femininity? To instruct, correct and protect her as necessary?”

Miranda didn’t even look at her as she snapped the leash on my collar. “You’ve always been so dull, Wytenbach. Yes, yes, I promise.”

The baroness was supposed to say a few more words, but Miranda simply pulled my arm and leash and dragged me with her.

Back at her seat she sat me down onto her legs. She hadn’t addressed me personally during the entire ceremony, and now I was in her care and on her lap, and still she barely acknowledged me. I felt the urge to break this uncomfortable silence.

“Thank you, Mistress, for becoming my monitor,” I told her sweetly, trying to avoid any awkwardness. “Which of lessons are you going to teach me?

Finally she spoke to me directly, a disconcerting glimmer in her eyes: “Just one. Not being dull.”