M
On Becoming Gretchen
By Amelia Allbyte
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Chapter One
If I hadn't accepted a 'cheap' ride my story would be quite
different. I'd probably be settled down in some nine-to-five job.
Maybe even have a wife and kids in a little vine-covered cottage.
But I did and my path has changed. As a result, I'm not allowed
to even consider going back to that sort of existence. And you
know, I'm not sure I want to - now. Anyway, after you read my
story, you be the judge.
My name is, or used to be, James Carrion. At the time, I was kind
of a vagrant. Itinerant worker sounds better, and I guess would
be more descriptive and apt. I would work at a job maybe six
months or so and then set out for a new place and a new job. At
any rate, my story begins as I was between jobs, so to speak. In
fact it had been quite a while since my last job and I was
getting down to my last couple of bucks when I heard that there
were jobs of some kind opening up in Wells City.
Since there weren't any immediate job prospects in this town, I
decided to try my luck there. When I paid off my room rent, I had
barely enough for the bus ticket. I was going to pay for that
lousy roach-infested room, but as I started to leave I was met by
my landlord, all six feet and two hundred pounds of him. So
naturally I was overjoyed to pay my past-due bill. I sure didn't
want my credit rating damaged, nor my nose bloodied and my eyes
blackened.
I trudged to the bus station. It was a cold, miserable day in
late fall. Not freezing, exactly, but one of those chill days
when the dampness goes right into your bones. Arriving at the bus
station cold, wet, and hungry, I found to my dismay that the next
bus for Wells City didn't leave for another six hours. Nothing
for me to do but wait, and starve.
I purchased my ticket and went over to sit in the dingy crowded
waiting room when this really good-looking dame came up to me. "I
just saw you buy a ticket to Wells City. Are you just going to
sit here and wait until the bus leaves?" she asked me.
"Yes, ma'am. I got no place to go and no money left. About all I
can afford to do is to just sit here until the bus leaves."
"Well, I'm going to Wells City and I hate driving alone. I'll
tell you what. If you will cash in your ticket, I'll take you
there, half price. We'll leave right now so you won't have to sit
around waiting."
To me that sounded like a really good deal. I'd get to ride with
a good-looking girl whose eyes promised real company rather than
wait around and then have to ride in a crowded bus. Besides, I'd
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have enough money to get something to eat and maybe rent a room
for a day or so when I got there. Without a moment's hesitation I
agreed.
It only took a few minutes to cash in my ticket and pile into her
big fancy car and be on our way. You might have guessed by now
that this whole thing was just a come-on. At the time I was tired
and disgusted and my only thought was to get out of there, so I
never even thought of a come-on. We got going, her driving at a
pretty good rate of speed.
I wasn't paying much attention to where we were going until I
noticed that we had turned off the main road and were traveling
down a back country road. I turned to the girl to ask where the
hell we were going and looked down the barrel of a big, and I
mean big, pistol. "Just sit quietly. We're almost there," she
ordered.
I soon found out where 'there' was. The road dead-ended. She
ordered me to give her the rest of my money, which I reluctantly
did. I couldn't even hold back a few bucks since she knew exactly
how much money I had. She then ordered me to get out of the car,
which I did with a bit of alacrity. The farther I got away from
that gun, the better I felt. That gal was handling it like she
was born with it in her hand and she did this every day. Maybe
she did.
She didn't waste a minute. She turned around and drove off with
my money, my pack, and everything else I had except for the
clothes on my back.
There was nothing else for me to do except to trudge back toward
the main highway. I guessed I was a good ten miles up this
deserted little side road. To top it off, it had begun to drizzle
and it was getting dark.
I guess I walked a couple of hours in that drizzly rain, when I
finally came to a large house, kind of set back from the road. It
was the first and only house I saw the whole time I was walking.
It sat out there by itself. There was nothing else anywhere near,
not even a barn.
I approached it, hailed it, pounded on the door, and even circled
it. I tried looking in the barred and shaded windows but could
see no sign of life. Finally convinced that no one was about, and
being cold, wet, and hungry, I tried the door.
Lo and behold! The windows were barred and the door looked as
solid as a rock, but it was unlocked. The interior was as
elaborate as the exterior was imposing. I wandered through the
living room and den, sloshing water on the deep napped rug with
every step. I made my way through the house, meeting no one, and
finally found the kitchen. Looking about, I found a well-stocked
refrigerator.
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I was hungry, but I was also wet by now, quite chilled. I decided
to try and find some dry clothes, or at least a blanket that I
could cover up in while the rags I was wearing dried. I then
started wandering through the darkened house. I finally found a
bedroom, but the only clothes I found were quite feminine.
I gave up and thought I'd try another room, maybe I'd have some
better luck and find some male clothes, when suddenly the lights
came on!
I turned, and the first thing that caught my eye was the barrel
of a cannon. For the second time in one day I was looking at the
wrong end of a pistol.
As ny eyes strayed from the mouth of the pistol, I saw that it
was held by a girl. Woman, really, as she was tall. Taller than
me, even allowing for her high heels. She had fair skin, accented
by her long black hair. She was wearing a white gauzy see-through
blouse that embellished her full breasts and wore black form-
fitting slacks that emphasized her long tapered legs.
She had an air of quiet confidence and held the pistol like she
knew how to use it. What was worse, she looked like she was
rather eager to try it out on me.
"Lady," I said. "You can put that gun away. I'm not trying to
steal anything except maybe a little food, the loan of some dry
clothes, and a chance to get it out of the rain and cold. I
banged on the door and hollered all around the place but no one
answered. I just figured that no one was home, so I came in." I
started to lower my hands.
"Keep them up!" she commanded, waving the pistol a bit. She then
walked around me, kind of looking me over from every angle,
giving little exclamations of approval or disapproval during her
inspection.
After circling me a couple of times, she got a pair of handcuffs
from somewhere. Quickly and efficiently, she pinioned my wrists
behind me.
Marching me back into the den, she stopped me on a big furry rug
lying in front of the fireplace. She made me lay down on my
stomach and produced another pair of manacles which she put on my
ankles. Then, to add insult to my helplessness, she linked my
wrists and ankles together.
"Your clothes are soaking," she said rather unnecessarily as if
she hadn't seen me dripping water the whole time. "We'll have to
do something about that."
She left and returned a few moments later with some scissors and
calmly began cutting my clothes off me. I mean everything. She
stripped me down to the buff so that I was lying there on that
rug, bare-assed naked.
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She kind of giggled while I lay face down on the rug and tried to
pull my feet up to hide the crack of my ass. However, she
relented a bit and covered me up with another skin. I didn't know
whether the rugs were fake or real animal skin, but they sure
were soft, warm, and dry.
"Hungry?" she finally asked.
"Starving," I replied. "I haven't eaten since this morning. I met
this girl who offered me a ride to Wells City. We hadn't gone but
a little way when she took me down this lonely road, pulled gun
on me, and dumped me. Now I find this place, and the first thing
I know you pull a gun on me, hog-tie me, and strip me."
Then I added quite angrily, "You're damn right I'm hungry, and
mad and disgusted too. To top it off, you have me chained up this
way for no reason at all."
"I only asked if you were hungry," the woman replied. "I'm not in
the least interested in your problems or whether you are
disgusted or not. I'll get you something to eat."
She appeared shortly with a plate of what appeared to be pieces
of meat, gravy, and some kind of vegetables in it, and a bowl of
milk.
She sat the dishes down in front of my face. "You'll have to eat
it like my little doggy, but don't worry; when you're through,
I'll wash off your face."
I looked at the food, rather warily. It looked suspiciously like
dog food. She saw my look and laughed. "No, it's not dog food -
this time. But if we don't come to some sort of an understanding,
it may very well be, next time."
I was hungry, and despite the humiliation, began eating. The meat
was rich and tender. The vegetables were delicious. But have you
ever tried eating while lying on your stomach with your hands
tied behind you? It's not easy. You have to estimate where the
food is. By the time you get your face down to it, you can't see
it. Then you have to get your nose out of the way. No matter how
hard you try, you are still going to get your nose and chin
messed up. Also, trying to get liquid out of a bowl is no snap. I
guess that if a person practices long enough, he would get adept
at lapping it up like a dog or cat. In my case, though, I had to
kind of purse my lips and suck it up.
I finally finished it all, even to the point of licking the
plates clean. The woman removed the plates and cleaned up my
face. After putting the dishes away, she sat on the sofa, looking
down at me.
"I'm needing a maid to serve a group of girl friends I am having
here in a day or so. If you will act the part, I won't turn you
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in to the police for breaking and entering and possibly trying to
attack me."
"I never tried to attack you and I wasn't breaking and entering.
I just came in to get out of the rain."
"On the contrary, I found you in this house sneaking around,
looking for something to steal. Probably if you had found me
unarmed, you would have tried to rape me."
"Why, you know that isn't true!"
"Who do you think will believe you, after I tell them my story of
how I caught you sneaking up behind me, trying to attack me?"
I was beat and I knew it. There wasn't a soul who would believe
my story. I could hardly believe that it had happened the way it
did, and I was there.
So, I asked, "Maid? What's with the maid bit? A maid's a female,
I'm not, so that leaves me out. I may be a lot of things, but I'm
no girl."
"If you agree, when I'm through, no one will know the difference.
I can put some makeup on you, dress you up, and you'll look quite
attractive."
"Hell, no! I'm not going to agree with such a silly thing."
"OK., I'll just call the cops and tell them I caught you in my
bedroom."
"Why, I'll just tell them what really happened," I responded.
"I'm sure they'll realize that it was just a mistake," I replied
desperately, knowing that no one would believe it. What was
worse, she knew it too.
Chapter Two
"That's your side of it. But I'm not so sure that they'll believe
your story after I tell them my story, especially with this sort
of thing going on."
She dropped a newspaper in front of me. Craning my neck, I
managed to read the headlines and the first few lines of the lead
story.
"RAPIST STRIKES AGAIN," it read. "For the third time this month,
a rapist attacked a woman in an isolated home. The police are
baffled, but believe it to be the work of an itinerant worker who
has holed up somewhere since the rapes were always in conjunction
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with a robbery."
It went on in the same general tone. There was even a description
given by one of the victims. Uncomfortably, I noted that it fit
me quite accurately.
"Now," said the woman, "what do you think they'll do when I turn
you in?"
I knew what they'd do and the outcome wasn't very pretty to
contemplate. I may eventually convince them that I wasn't guilty,
maybe even produce an alibi (my old landlord?), but during the
time they spent checking it out, I'd be in for a rough time, and
it would probably be for a long time.
"If I agree to do this, you won't turn me in?"
"That's right. You do as I ask and no cops."
"OK., you got a deal," I gave in.
"I'm glad to see you're reasonable. I can just imagine how the
police would question you," she responded. Then she added, "Now
that we have come to an understanding, the first thing that we're
going to have to do is to get rid of that ugly hair on your body,
arms, and legs. Since it's rather late and you need a bath
anyway, we'll just go ahead and do it tonight. We'll start your
other lessons in the morning."
"Remove my body hair? Other lessons tomorrow? What the hell is
this? I don't need all that junk just to serve a few plates."
"You just agreed to do as I asked and already you're trying to
get out of it. You will either do it my way, or I'll call the
cops. Now which do you want?"
"Alright, you win. I guess I can take anything for a day or so."
Once I agreed, she yanked the skin off me and released the leg
irons. "OK., young man, let's get going." By now I was warm and
dry and despite the humiliating method, well fed.
I struggled to my feet. "I agreed to your terms. You can take
these things off my wrists now."
"You agreed verbally. I don't know what's going on in your mind.
What you are going to be doing can be done just as well with
those things still attached. Now, move on."
I headed back to the bedroom where the bath was located, my
female guardian following, occasionally prodding me. I noticed
that she was no longer carrying the gun.
We reached the bathroom and she began applying a lotion to my
body. Starting at my forehead and working her way down to my
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toes, she covered every inch of me.
It was kind of titillating, especially when she got to my groin
where she liberally applied the lotion to my cock and balls. I
began responding to the handling. In other words, I was beginning
to get a hardon.
The woman stopped, reached for long-handled bath brush, and
slapped down my erect member. It hurt! My eyes watered and all
thoughts of arousal were gone. I went completely limp.
She acted as if nothing unusual had happened, as though she
whacked erect cocks every day. She went on with her task. In a
few more minutes I was completely covered with the gooey stuff.
"Just stand there awhile and let that lotion do its work. I'll be
back when it's time to remove it." She went out, closing the door
behind her, leaving me standing there.
With no clothes and my wrists locked behind me, I wasn't going
anywhere. Besides, I heard the lock click after she left.
Apparently the door could be locked from the outside.
With nothing else to do, I stood there - and stood there.
Meanwhile, the lotion was beginning to work and my skin was
beginning to feel itchy. So I stood and waited some more.
Finally, when I felt I couldn't stand any longer and my body felt
like one big rash, the lock clicked and the woman entered. She
looked me over rather critically, ran a fingernail lightly down
my leg, examined it, and nodded in satisfaction to herself. She
started the shower, motioned for me to enter, and I did.
When I got fully wet, she started rubbing me down with the bath
brush. It was scratchy and uncomfortable. What was worse, I
could see all of my hair coming off with the brush. Now, I didn't
think I was exceptionally hairy, but I could see gobs of hair
coming off and going down the drain. Even my pubic hair was going
and the woman seemed to take a perverse delight in giving that
area a good scrubbing.
Satisfied that the hair was all removed, she motioned me out of
the shower and began rubbing me down with a big fluffy towel, and
then began applying a soft soothing lotion to my now hairless
body.
The feeling was amazing. My denuded skin seemed so much more
sensitive and delicate. I was suddenly aware of every waft of
air, of minute changes in temperature as she led me from the bath
into the bedroom.
"You look much more presentable now," she said after examining me
to make sure I was completely hairless.
"Oh, one other thing. I want you to know that the lotion has a
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hair growth inhibitor in it. Your face should stay smooth for two
or three days; the rest of your body for at least a week."
"You need a name. You're fairly light complexioned and blonde.
'Gretchen' seems rather appropriate. Hello, Gretchen. You can
call me Miss Irene. Just always remember the respectful Miss."
"My name is --"
She slapped my face, hard. Then she put her hand over my mouth.
"Gretchen, I don't give a damn about what it used to be or even
what you did. As far as you and I are concerned, you have just
been born. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Miss Irene."
"It's kind of late," she said. I looked at the clock. It was well
after eleven and I realized that I was quite worn out.
"Tomorrow we'll start training you so that you may be a passable
maid. You may as well start getting used to feminine clothing
tonight. I'll get you a pair of panties and a bra. We'll pad it
out, and of course you will need a nightgown."
She came over and removed the handcuffs. "I guess it's all right
to remove these now. Besides, it would be difficult to dress you
while you're wearing them."
She started over toward the bureau to get the clothes. I figured
it was now or never. I had been forced to agree to her terms
under duress, which as far as I was concerned carried no
validity. I'd just beat the hell out of her, find some clothes
and get the hell out of there. I had no desire to be her maid,
and as far as I knew, she would still turn me in at the first
opportunity anyway.
Without another moment's hesitation I jumped her with the full
intention of overpowering her and leaving her manacled with her
own handcuffs.
Now, the idea may have been pretty good, but the execution left
something to be desired. As I started to jump she turned and
grabbed me by the writs and using my own momentum, slammed me to
the floor.
I staggered to my feet and before I knew what had happened, she
grabbed me by my other wrist and slammed me against the wall.
Then she lowered my head and butted me right in the gut. I
doubled over and she rabbit-punched me on the back of my neck and
my little revolt was quelled. I was licked.
"I can let you up and we can go at it again just to prove it was
no accident," she said in a conversational tone, stepping back to
give me an opportunity to rise.
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I clambered to my feet, still a bit shaky. "Uh, no, thanks." I
didn't need or want any more proof. She was quicker, more agile,
and better trained than I was. At the moment, it would not have
surprised me to discover that she was stronger than I. The one
grab that I did make at her felt like I was grabbing a steel
cable. "So where's the damn clothes," I muttered.
As I was getting up, she was getting the clothes and tossing them
onto the bed. I had no trouble pulling the sleek lace panties up
into place about my waist, at least as far as slipping them on.
But the sensation was quite another matter. That smooth nylon
about my hips and the lace-trimmed elastic around my waist and
legs gave me an exotic high you wouldn't believe. The feeling was
intensified because of the increased skin sensitivity due to the
hair removal. I could feel an erection coming on - fast.
Miss Irene saw the sudden bulging at my crotch and wasn't amused.
"You will get aroused and have an erection only when I permit it.
Cease immediately."
Well, that was like telling the tide to quit coming in. There
wasn't a thing I could do about it.
My captor could do something, and did. She went back into the
bathroom and returned with the long-handled bath brush. She
positioned herself and held the bath brush like a baseball bat,
and - whack! That was all I needed. I subsided immediately.
"You may not believe it now, but that thing will become quite
obedient," she said nonchalantly, returning the brush to its
proper place. I didn't believe her. After all, that thing had a
mind of its own and would occasionally pick some of the most
embarrassing times to decide to get hard. Besides, wasn't she
going to release me in a few days, after I acted as a maid for
her little party? Or was she?
After we went through the little fracas she then brought over the
bra and helped me put it on, and then inserted the pads. Here
again, although the sensation wasn't quite as erotic as my
panties, it sure wasn't unpleasant. The tightness of the elastic
about my chest, the pull of the straps over my shoulders and the
weight of the inserts seemed very pleasant, and in an odd way
rather natural.
"You will look much better with adhered pads, or even better,
implants until you grow your own, but for now these will have to
do," she commented after viewing the completed task.
"That sounds like you want this to be permanent. I thought you
said you would let me go if I acted as your maid."
"I said I would not turn you over to the police," she retorted.
"How long I keep you depends on how you cooperate."
As she was saying this, she was handing me a peach-colored waltz-
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length nylon nightgown with a gauzy overlay of lace. It had short
puffy sleeves, ending just below the shoulders. The neck was
modestly scooped and ornamented with frilly lace, the same as the
cuffs and hem.
Once again, the sensation of the dainty nylon and the frilly lace
on my denuded and sensitive body was more to be felt than
described. But this time there was no erection, or at least none
that caused a noticeable bulge in my satiny panties. I was
learning.
"Time for beddie-bye, Gretchen," she said. "Do you need to use
the bathroom before you retire? You know where it is."
I nodded and headed for it. I started to close the door when she
stopped me. "We're two girls together. We don't keep secrets from
each other. And remember, we girls sit down to pee."
I took the hint and sat. Oh, well, I thought philosophically, at
least I don't have to worry about my aim.
"And now to bed. You will soon learn that your sexual activity
will be under my direction. Therefore, to prevent you from
playing with yourself during the night, you must wear these
'chastity irons'. The chastity irons consisted of a collar locked
about the neck, and a pair of manacles attached to it by about 18
inches of chain. This device very effectively prevented my hands
from going any lower than my chest.
She led me into another bedroom. At first I thought the bed
within it was a hospital bed with side rails, but then I realized
it was built more like an oversized crib with high side rails.
I looked about, finding the bedroom unusually furnished. One side
of the room was decorated just like a nursery. There were big
murals of barnyard animals on the wall. There was a cabinet that
was stacked high with diapers and all sorts of baby powders and
lotions. Along the floor there were baby toys and other baby
things.
The other side of the room was a picture of femininity. There was
a dressing table with all sorts of cosmetics and various lotions
and powders. There was a dresser with some sort of jewelry box, a
pair of pink-shaded table lamps, and other dainty feminine
decorations.
I really didn't get a good opportunity to investigate all of the
furnishings. Miss Irene motioned toward the bed and I crawled in.
She raised the side, and then reached over and lifted up a top
cover, which she locked down in place. The crib was nothing but a
cage!
"I feel so much better knowing that you can't walk in your sleep
and possibly injure yourself. Now, go to sleep. We have a big day
tomorrow."
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Leaving a little ducky night light burning, she closed the door,
leaving me alone in my cage with a little furry bear I found
laying on the pillow.
Chapter Three
When Miss Irene left me, I made a quick check and my suspicions
were confirmed. There was steel under the wood finish of the crib
and the locks, although quite inconspicuous, were solid and
secure. There was no way these were going to be opened without
the key. I just wasn't going anywhere until Miss Irene came and
released me.
I tried to sleep but the bed was new to me, the surroundings
strange, and I was unsure of my fate. I would doze off, suddenly
come awake, then repeat the process. I guess I finally dropped
off because the next think I knew, I awoke and found Miss Irene
smiling down at me.
"Good morning, Gretchen. Did you sleep well? I'm glad you like
Toto. Most young girls like a cuddly animal to sleep with. I'm
glad you're adjusting so well."
Glancing down, I noticed that the bear was snuggled up against my
fully-padded bra. Embarrassed, I put it aside and climbed out of
the crib.
Releasing me from the 'chastity device', she handed me a robe
that matched my gown and made me step into a pair of backless
mules with about a two-inch heel and a large bow on the toe.
After you clean up, you may go to the kitchen and fix my
breakfast. I would like one egg fried, sunny side up, two slices
of bacon, not too crisp, cinnamon toast, orange juice, and
coffee, black. You may serve me in the dining room."
She then turned and walked off.
Shrugging my shoulders, I did as she bade. It felt kind of funny
washing up without having to shave. I felt my face and it was
still as smooth as a girl's.
It took me a while to get used to the shoes, and when I got to
the kitchen, to find all the stuff. I finally succeeded. While I
was at it, I fixed myself a couple of eggs, some bacon, and
coffee. I brought both plates in and set them on the dining room
table.
I found Miss Irene in the den and called out, "Soup's on, ma'am."
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She turned and looked at me coldly. "You are to address me as
Miss Irene. You will also make your announcements much more
respectable in the future."
"Yes, Miss Irene. Your breakfast is ready in the dining room." I
don't know why I knuckled under so easily. I knew she could whip
me physically, but it was more than that. She just seemed - well,
superior. She deserved to be waited on.
She went into the dining room and saw both plates of food.
"What's this? I didn't order all that!"
"Why, I just fixed some for myself. I figured we could eat
together."
"Eat together? Why, the maid eats in the kitchen. But for being
so presumptuous, you shall eat that here today, that food." She
pointed. "On the floor. But first you will serve me."
So I stood behind her as she ate, refilling her coffee cup or
whatever else she wanted. When she was through, she motioned for
me to clear the table of her dishes, but stopped me when I
started to remove the food I had fixed for myself. She dawdled a
while, sipping her coffee, looking at her fingernails, just
taking her time. Finally she said, "All right, Gretchen, you may
eat," and swept the food, plates and all, onto the floor.
I looked at her, then at the food on the floor and started to
pick it up. She stopped me. "No, Gretchen. You eat off the floor,
with your hands behind you. I can get the handcuffs if you feel
it necessary."
So for the second time in as many meals, I ate off the floor.
Also, I was learning an important lesson. Don't presume.
After trying to eat as best I could, she finally stopped me and
told me to clean up the floor and then the kitchen. She then left
me and went into the bedroom.
I had no sooner finished getting things cleaned up and put away,
when she called out, "Gretchen! Come here!" Obeying, I went into
the bedroom.
She was dressed completely in a black one-piece garment that
covered her completely and concealed nothing. It was very thin
leatherlike material that looked more like it was sprayed on
rather than conventionally dressed. Her breasts jutted out
boldly, her nipples firm and erect. Her stomach was taut and
lean, her belly button plainly visible. The material plainly
outlined the thick lips of her vagina at the crotch, actually
emphasizing her femininity rather than concealing it.
Every line, every tendon in the long tapering legs showed through
the material and accented every little movement she made. Her
feet were covered by a pair of black suede ankle-high boots with
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at least four inch heels. In one hand she held a quirt, idly
slapping it into the palm of the other. The pale hands and bright
red fingernails were in sharp contrast to the dull black of the
ominous-looking braided leather quirt.
Her long black hair framed her pale ivory face. When she smiled,
her small white even teeth appeared in starling contrast to the
rich, succulent, deep red lips.
She was indeed lovely! She was seductive! For the first time I
realized what a male spider must feel when he approached his
potential black widow mate. Anything, ever=n, death, was
acceptable in return for a tryst. One union with this delectable
creature was worth life itself!
Miss Irene, however, did not have sex, or at least the kind I was
thinking about, on her mind. She was fully intent on domination,
training me to be the perfect maid. The conception of bending a
male to her will, to make him obey and tend her at every beck and
call was a sexual triumph for her. I noticed a small wet spot
appear at her crotch when I came in with bowed head and said,
"Yes, Miss Irene."
"On your knees and kiss my feet, then we'll discuss your
training."
I obeyed. It seemed right and natural that I should obey this
lovely and imperious creature. I did so, not only kissing her
feet, but abjectly licking her shoes. As I did, I could feel my
own sex pressing against my panties with my act of submission.
"All right, Gretchen, on your feet. I didn't mean for you to
slobber all over my boots."
When I arose and stood before her, she looked at me. She suddenly
raised the robe and saw my arousal winning its battle against the
smooth nylon panties.
Without a moment's hesitation, she lashed out with the quirt.
Twice she slashed at my unprotected genitals. Any idea that my
poor cock had of being useful was dashed. My erection flat
disappeared.
"You will not get and erection or even become aroused unless
permitted," Miss Irene stated, still holding my nightgown up and
watching my genitals disappear into my panties.
Chapter Four
"It's time you started learning how to present a proper feminine
appearance and acquaint yourself with your duties as my maid. You
14
can start by taking a bath. I'll accompany you to insure that you
prepare it correctly."
We went into the tub, not the ornate luxurious room adjoining
Miss Irene's bedroom, but into the room adjoining the one I slept
in. Although smaller and not quite as elaborate as the other, it
was nevertheless well furnished in a dainty feminine style. I
did note that, as in the other room also, that there were
provisions for infants here also.
She watched as I ran the water. Under her direction, I liberally
applied bath salts and bubble bath under the flowing water. As
ordered, I removed all of my clothes. As I did so, Miss Irene
watched carefully for any signs of arousal. Fortunately for me,
there was none.
After I finished bathing, and while still sitting in the tub, she
again manacled my hands behind me. "Okay, you just lay there and
soak awhile. Don't masturbate. I'm going to lay out your clothes.
I'll be back in a bit." Taking the clothes I had been wearing,
she left, closing the door behind her.
I don't know how she thought I could masturbate with my hands
chained behind me.
She returned a bit later and removed the cuffs. I dried myself
off with a nice thick fluffy towel. The sweet perfumed odor of
the bath salts still clung to my now dry and tingling body.
Miss Irene then led me back to her bedroom where my clothes were
laid out on the bed. There was a lacy pair of pink panties with a
matching lace bra and slip. Without even being told, I began
putting them on. I still needed a bit of assistance putting on
my bra and inserts. To digress a moment, the inserts were filled
with a heavy gel-like material that had the weight and feel of a
natural breast. When they were inserted into my bra cups, they
seemed to cling to my chest and react to my body movement, even
to the point of having a realistic bounce.
The slip was a new experience for me. Unlike the nightgown, it
fit snugly about my body, making me fully aware of its presence.
Its sleek coolness and the feel of the lacy hem dancing across my
hairless thighs sent tingles up and down my spine. Next came the
panty hose, sheer and silky. I looked at Miss Irene; her face was
expressionless. I knew that I had better not mess this up.
Fortunately, I didn't. I drew the clinging material over my toes
and heels, up my hairless legs, and on up and over my hips. Now
the slip tingled, but the panty hose- ! The taut feeling about my
legs and thighs, the delicate constriction of my hips and crotch
was just indescribable. No wonder girls liked to dress up!
I then slid my feet into my shoes. They fit perfectly. Now, Miss
Irene and I were of nearly the same size, so I presumed the
clothes she was giving me were hers; but I thought it quite a
coincidence that we both wore the same size shoes.
15
In any event, I slipped them on. They were black open-toed pumps
with about a three-inch spiked heel. "I gave you those mules with
the two-inch heels to get you used to wearing heels. You should
adapt to these quite easily," Miss Irene noted.
I then put on the dress Miss Irene had chosen, a maid's uniform,
really. It was not like those scanty French maid outfits one sees
in sex magazines; rather, it was a no-nonsense work uniform,
although quite feminine and attractive. It had short puffed
sleeves, a belted waist, full-flared petticoated skirt and a
white starched pinafore apron, tied in the back with a large bow.
She then led me over to the dressing table and began applying
makeup. As she applied it, she cautioned me to pay attention. In
the future I would be expected to do this for myself. Completing
the task to her satisfaction, she went over to the closet and
came back with a wig, which, coincidentally, was the exact same
shade as my own hair. She put it on my head and spent a few
moments brushing it out. Finally, she stopped, looked me over and
nodded her head in satisfaction, and asked, "Well, would you like
to see what you look like as my feminized maid?"
Do fish swim? You bet I wanted to see what she had done to me.
I jumped up and made for the full-length mirror, then almost
twisted my ankle and fell. Those three-inch spiked heels with a
base of less than a half an inch were a far cry from the two inch
heels on the pumps. However, I quickly discovered that the basic
technique was the same. Only now my steps had to be shorter and
more precise.
"If you would point your toes straight ahead and kind of walk
like you were on a tightrope, you should rather easily and
quickly develop a more feminine style of walking," Miss Irene
commented to my retreating back.
I wasn't paying to much attention to her words; I was busy
staring at my reflection. From what I saw, I could easily pass as
a girl. Maybe not a beautiful one, but still fairly attractive.
My hair, which I had always thought of as a nondescript blonde,
was another matter when lengthened and brushed out. It fell in
soft waves, almost to my shoulders. There appeared to be tiny
glints of gold shining through it when the light struck it in a
certain way.
My eyes were gray and rather wide set. Miss Irene had accented
them with mascara, eye shadow, eye liner, and painfully arched
and emphasized eyebrows. My lips were colored a full red and were
glossed to a luscious sheen. Finally, my high cheekbones were
shaded and lightly colored to draw attention to me eyes.
All in all, my face was quite attractive with an open kind of
innocent expression. My body didn't look bad either; by
necessity, I had skipped a few meals. I had kept pretty trim in
16
my waist and my tummy was lean and flat. The inserts in my bra
gave a perfect swelling in the bosom, and the high-heeled pumps
put a perfect taper in my legs and calves.
I pranced and pirouetted, looking at myself from all angles while
Miss Irene smiled indulgently as one does to a child with a new
dress.
"You do look quite acceptable, Gretchen. We'll finish up with the
details later this evening."
"Details? What details?"
"Why, paint your fingernails and toenails and pierce your ears,
for some examples. I'm still leaning toward getting you breast
implants until you can grow your own. I guess I'll talk to
Mistress Circe about it."
"Paint my nails? Pierce my ears? Grow my own breasts? Why do you
want to do all that stuff when you are going to let me go in just
a few days after I act as your maid for your party?"
"I told you before, I never promised to let you go right away. I
only told you that if you agreed I wouldn't report you to the
authorities. Now, we'll discuss what happens later at another
time. All I'll say now is that you should prepare yourself to
stay a while."
"Why, you can't do that! You can't keep me here against my will."
"I can do any damned thing I want to with you, and do it for as
long as I please. Don't forget that. No one knows you're here,
and I doubt that anyone really cares."
"Now you have a house to clean, so get with it."
"I'll be damned if I will," I said. "I'm not going to do a damned
thing until you promise to let me go as you said."
Miss Irene just looked at me and sighed. "I just knew it would
eventually come to this. Well, if you need a demonstration, then
you shall have one." She got up and went over to a bureau,
reached into one of the drawers, and returned, carrying the quirt
in her hand.
She approached me, and I began backing away but tripped, not
being used to the high-heeled shoes. She reached down, grabbed my
by my wrist and forced me to my feet. With no apparent effort,
she twisted my arm way up behind my back, forcing to me to bend
over helplessly.
She marched me over to the bed, sat down, and forced me to lay
across her lap. Laying the quirt down on the bed beside her, she
raised my dress and slip. She then pulled down my panties and
hose, leaving my bottom exposed to the world.
17
Picking up the quirt, she began whipping me. I squirmed, I
struggled, all to no avail. Meanwhile, she was vigorously
applying the braided quirt to my bare bottom. I began swearing,
but that didn't help, so I began pleading, almost crying. The
pain was really becoming quite severe. It had no effect on my
tormentor. She kept laying down the quirt where she felt it would
do the most good.
Finally, exhausted, I gave up the struggle and lay whimpering and
quiescent across her lap as she continued with the whipping. Once
I gave up the struggle, she ceased. "Do we have an understanding
that you are my feminized maid and will do as I say? I can
continue this all day. It doesn't hurt me a bit."
"You win," I moaned. "I'll do anything you say, just let me up."
She gave me one last vicious whack and then released me. "Now
pull up your panties and straighten your dress!"
Gently and as delicately as I could, I pulled my panties and hose
up over my tender bottom and pulled down my slip, fluffing out my
skirt so that it again hung neatly.
She arose from sitting on the bed and stood facing me. "Now,
curtsy for me and say that you are sorry for questioning my
authority, and that you will obey me in the future."
All thoughts of rebellion were erased by the pain in my bottom.
My only thought was to appease this iron hard female who looked
so lovely, innocent, and delicate. I made an attempt at a curtsy
and said, "I'm sorry I questioned your authority, Miss Irene. I
will obey all of your orders in the future."
"Just don't forget this mild lesson. I can do this anytime I
wish, and if I think it necessary, I have a room where I can hang
you from the ceiling and lash you with a real whip until you get
the message that I am your superior."
I inwardly shuddered. After this last fiasco, I knew she could
and would do it if she thought it was necessary or if she just
had the notion to discipline me severely.
Chapter Five
She then ordered, "You have a house to clean, so get with it!"
Get with it, I did. I mopped. I scrubbed floors. I vacuumed, I
dusted, I polished the furniture. I did everything necessary to
clean the house until it was spotless. I even did the windows;
inside, that is.
18
Meanwhile, Miss Irene was doing exercises and practicing her
martial arts. I sneaked a few minutes to peek in a watch her.
Seeing her work out made me understand how she took me down so
easily when I first tried to jump her, and then how she had
overpowered me when she gave me the spanking, which, in fact,
still hurt. I knew there was no way that I could get the better
of her physically without a club or something.
Occasionally, she would interrupt me in my work, force me into
the dressing room and remove my makeup, and make me re-apply it.
We did that four or five times during the day. The first few
times it was a disaster and she had to do it over for me. The
third time, so-so. The fourth time I was almost passable. At
least I was getting better.
She also interrupted me at lunch. I had to fix her a meal and
then stand behind her while she ate, making sure her every need
was fulfilled. I should also mention that she would interrupt me
all during the day to serve her drinks or otherwise do her
bidding.
After she ate, she allowed me to eat in the kitchen. My meal
consisted of eating what she had left on her plate. It may have
been humiliating, but for me, it was a giant step up. For the
first time since I had come into the house, I didn't have to eat
off the floor.
I might also mention that early on, I had complained about doing
housework in high heels, pointing out that regular maids doing
menial work wore low-heeled shoes while working. I argued that I
could do a better job cleaning the house if she allowed me this
freedom.
She only laughed and replied that regular maids already knew how
to wear high-heeled shoes and that housework was their
occupation. But in my case, not only must I learn housework, I
must also learn to accustom myself to high heels. It was also
necessary to keep me aware that I must get used to accepting a
subservient role and wear feminine clothes. No arguing with that.
I guess it was around five-thirty when I finished. If the house
was clean before, it was sterile now.
It was now time to begin preparing Miss Irene's evening meal.
Fortunately, I had spent some time in my wanderings as a short-
order cook, so I wasn't completely lost in front of a stove.
Also, the meal she ordered was rather simple to prepare. I had no
trouble making it. She did mention, rather emphatically, that I
had better learn to prepare more exotic foods as she and her
guests enjoyed a varied menu.
It was after seven before I finished preparing and serving the
meal. As instructed, I stood behind her while she ate so that I
would be available in case she wanted something. My meal was in
19
the same manner as lunch. I ate her leftovers in the kitchen.
Completing the cleanup, I went and bathed. I again used the
sweet-smelling bath crystals and the bubble bath. By now I was
starting to enjoy this part of it and thought that after I was
freed, I'd continue to bathe this way whenever possible.
After I bathed and dried myself, I put on a clean lace bra and
inserts that I found on my crib (cage?). I had a bit of
difficulty but I was getting used to the technique of snagging
hooks behind me.
Next was baby doll nightie and a matching short robe that barely
covered my hips. The lace bikini panties were elasticized in the
crotch, which held my genitals back between my legs, completely
hiding them out of sight. Smearing some night cream on my face
that Miss Irene told me I'd find on the dressing table, I went
into the den to join her.
She was there waiting for me, similarly clad. When she saw me she
produced a bowl of ice cubes, a few of which she wrapped in some
cloth. She told me to hold one against each ear, which I did
until they began to feel numb.
She then severely pinched each ear in turn and began fumbling
with them, finally stepping back.
"When are you going to pierce them," I asked, secretly hoping
that she would change her mind.
"It's already done, and the keepers are in place," she replied.
We'll check them again in the morning. I see no reason why you
shouldn't be able to wear any style I select for you by then."
Under her close direction, I filed and shaped my fingernails and
toenails, and applied a bright red polish on them. She remarked
that my fingernails would look much more attractive when they
grew out longer.
When they were completely dry, she affixed the chastity irons
about my wrists and neck to prevent me from reaching down to my
crotch and playing with my genitals.
She took me up to my bedroom and again locked me in my crib/cage
and left me to my own thoughts for the night.
And so ended my first full day of feminized captivity.
Chapter Six
The next day started exactly as the previous one. After being
released and doing my morning necessities, I went into the
20
kitchen and prepared Miss Irene's breakfast. This time I didn't
make the mistake of thinking I was worthy of eating with her.
After serving her and again eating her leftovers, I went to her
room in response to her summons. She was wearing only a peignoir,
not the elaborate costume she had worn the previous morning. "You
will be my personal maid as well as do the housework, cook, and
serve meals. You may as well start learning now. You can begin by
helping me with my bath. Draw the water, warm, but not too hot.
Remember to add the bath crystals on the counter."
I did as she ordered, constantly testing the water, all the while
hoping that she would like the temperature I selected.
When the water was ready, I went in to inform her. She slipped
off the robe and, well, she undulated into the bath.
Yesterday, she was erotic while wearing the sexy costume. Today,
unclad, she was beautiful. Her body was perfect. The pink nipples
and aureoles capped her perfect breasts that rose to their full
perfection. The dark pubic patch had been shaved to form a
perfect heart. Awe-struck, I gazed at her as she passed me and
went into the tub.
She dipped her toe in the water, testing it. "It's a bit warm,
but acceptable this first time. However, next time have it a few
degrees cooler."
"Yes, Miss Irene."
She entered the tub and I helped her bathe. I washed her back,
handed her the washcloth or soap or whatever she wanted. When she
was through, I patted her dry with a large fluffy bath towel.
We the returned to the bedroom. She turned, facing me. "Get
down on your knees," she ordered. I complied.
She approached me until there were only a few inches between my
face and her furry patch. "You will now service me, and use your
tongue," she commanded, pulling my head up into her crotch.
I pushed my nose into her, and then hesitantly at first, slipped
my tongue between the thick wet lips of her labia and began
working it around. I found the hot musky taste of her vaginal
fluids quite tantalizing.
My exploring tongue moved about within her vagina. I felt her
quiver as erotic sensations were being aroused within her body.
Suddenly, I wanted to make her come. I wanted to orally satisfy
her so that she would reach orgasm. I began driving my tongue
deeper while at the same time thrashing it about within her,
trying to stimulate her to greater arousal.
Apparently I met with some success as her gyrations on my mouth
became more frantic and the fleshy lips of her pink tunnel became
21
coated with a thick, gooey lubricant, which I collected on my
tongue.
I don't know how long I, or rather we, kept it up. She kept
getting more and more excited and held my face so far up against
her snatch that I could hardly breathe. At that moment, I didn't
care. I only wanted for her to climax into my subservient mouth.
She finally gave a tremendous tremor and sighed audibly, then
relaxed, satiated.
Releasing my head, she ordered me to my feet. Pulling down my
lace panties, she smiled triumphantly.
"You're learning how to obey." I looked down in amazement. All
during the whole erotic act, I had no physical arousal. My cock
was still soft and limp although I was on an erotic high.
"As a reward for your obedience, you have my permission to have
an erection. In fact, I order you to have one."
Apparently of its own volition, my cock started to obey. I could
feel the blood pulsing within it. I watched it slowly engorge
until within a few seconds it stood straight and stiff, pressing
the front of my panties out obscenely.
I can't explain it. Ordinarily I considered my cock to have a
mind of its own. It would get erect in crowds, embarrassing me
with its distinct bulge. At other times I'd be embarrassed for no
good reason because it wouldn't come up. Now, here, in one day,
this strange woman was making it do as she wished.
"You are a bit repressed, aren't you?"
"Yes, Miss Irene. Horny would be a better word. It's been quite a
while."
She handed me a pair of her panties. "You have my permission to
have some relief. Masturbate yourself into those panties."
"Here? Now? Right in front of you?"
"Certainly. You must not have any ejaculation or erection without
my permission. On the other hand, if I should order it, you WILL
comply. Also, you will only have sexual arousal by my orders,
unless, of course, I lend to other mistresses. Then you will obey
them as you would me."
I was red-faced and embarrassed. I had never been specifically
ordered to beat my meat, nor had I ever done it in the presence
of a lovely woman. Miss Irene stood there with a slight smile on
her lips, enjoying her superiority and my embarrassment.
"Well, are going to deliberately disobey me or are you going to
begin?"
22
I reached down and grabbed my cock. It felt hot in my hand. I
began to stroke it. She stared intently at my activity. I
gradually began manipulating it at a faster pace. It responded,
beginning to throb somewhat, a bit of ejaculate lubricating it. I
gradually increased the rapidity of my stroking and could feel my
excitement rising.
I was soon rapt with the sensations rising within me. I knew Miss
Irene was still watching me, but I was no longer embarrassed. I
did note, without being fully aware of it, that she was staring
intently at my masturbation, her breath coming in short gasps in
unison with my own.
Suddenly, I knew it was time and placed the panties over the tip
of my swollen cock. I closed my eyes and exploded!
As I was ejaculating, I felt a cool hand over my own. I opened my
eyes and looked down. Miss Irene's hand was over mine, her body
was bucking, and I'd swear that she had an orgasm in conjunction
with mine.
She recovered her composure rather quickly, and as I was coming
back to my senses she said, "Yesterday, you cleaned the house.
Today is washing and ironing day. You will take your bath and
apply your own makeup. Instead of a uniform, you will find a
skirt and blouse lying on your bed. I want you to get used to
wearing various sorts of female clothing."
"When you are finished dressing and applying your makeup and feel
that you are presentable, report to me for inspection. After you
pass, I'll show you where the laundry is and what you have to
do."
Relaxed, and finally at ease with myself, I left to do as she
ordered.
I took my bath as directed, liberally dumping in the bath
crystals and luxuriating in the sweet-smelling warm water.
Completing the bath, I went into my room and discovered a
complete wardrobe laid out on my bed.
I put on the white nylon lace panties that were liberally
embroidered with pink butterflies. The matching bra, I discovered
with some satisfaction, was front-hooked, which for me was much
easier to put on. The skirt portion of the slip was of a sleek
white nylon. The bodice was form-fitting and all lace; even the
shoulder straps were lace. The same pale pink butterflies that
adorned my panties and bra were also on the slip.
The blouse was pullover type with a modified 'V' neck full of
lace ruffles. The sleeves were short and puffed. The cuffs were
white satin with lace ruffles similar to those around the collar.
The material of the blouse was very sheer, almost transparent,
and the lace of the slip could easily be seen through it.
23
The skirt was pale pink, made from a soft wool fabric. It was
fully pleated and had its own self belt.
The panty hose were a very light shade of beige and were very
sheer, almost invisible when worn, except for the sheen that
accented the pleasing appearance of my shaved legs. The three-
inch heeled shoes were open-toed with spaghetti straps that
buckled around the ankle.
I also discovered a fine gold necklace with a tiny pendant, a
matching bracelet, and a pair of pierced earrings with pendants
that matched the one on the necklace.
Prior to putting on my skirt and blouse, I applied my makeup. I
was still far from an expert but at least by now I had a good
idea as to how to apply the various cremes and colors. I selected
a lipstick that would match my red nails, with a slight pink
cast. I figured that would match the pale pink skirt. I also
selected a very light shade of pink for my eye shadow, hoping it
would kind of go with the outfit. Although I was learning to
apply makeup, I still had a long way to go in learning to match
colors and shades.
Completing my makeup, I carefully put on the rest of my feminine
clothing, then the jewelry, and finally set the wig on my head
and brushed it out.
Looking myself over, satisfied with what I saw, I presented
myself to Miss Irene.
She took one look and exclaimed, "I thought I taught you how to
apply mascara. It should look natural, and each lash should be
separate, not glued together in clumps as you have done."
She reached into her own vanity, rustled through it for a few
moments, then returned. "Here is a mascara comb. Go back and fix
that mascara. When it looks right, let me see it again."
I did as she directed and was surprised at how effective the
little comb was. It smoothed and separated each lash, making them
appear longer and decidedly more attractive.
Again I presented myself to Miss Irene. This time she grudgingly
approved of my appearance. I felt quite proud of my
accomplishments, and strangely enough, I also enjoyed the feeling
of attractive femininity that I knew I portrayed.
Miss Irene wasted no time, and led me into the laundry room. "all
the lingerie that is here, you will wash by hand." She then
instructed me as to how to wash the rest of the items, and
cautioned me to be careful of the clothes I was wearing. There
were of a light color and delicate fabrics. I believe Miss Irene
deliberately selected them to make it difficult. Then she left me
to myself.
24
There wasn't a whole lot of the regular laundry. A few sheets,
some towels, and a load or so of wash-n-wear clothing, belonging,
I assumed, to Miss Irene. There were blouses, skirts, shorts,
jeans, and things of that sort. I eyed the jeans, some of them,
and even the blouses, a few of which looked like they would not
be too out of place if worn by a male.
It put the thought of escape in my mind, but until I could figure
a way out, such thoughts were useless. So I went back to the task
at hand.
There were no problems with washing the clothes. I put them in
the washer, then the dryer, and let them go. The lingerie was
another matter. There was a mountain of it. It was hard to
imagine that any one person could have so many underclothes, much
less get them all so that they all needed washing at the same
time. My mistress much change her undies four or five times a day
and go that way for a month to have that much to wash.
I started the washing machine and then began sorting and hand
washing the lingerie. Panties, hose, slips, gowns, bras,
everything. It seemed that there were zillions of each kind in
every imaginable style and color.
Originally, I had thought that this would be an easy day - after
all, how many clothes does one woman wear? I mentioned something
about it while I served lunch to Miss Irene.
"Oh, most of that lingerie belongs to friends. They asked me to
have it done when they discovered I was going to get a maid."
Now, how did they, or Miss Irene, know she was going to get a
maid, at least me specifically? If I hadn't, by chance, accepted
that ride, then been hauled off and dumped hereabouts, I'd never
have been anywhere near this place. Did they have someone else in
mind? If they did, then there should be two of us. Did she know
in advance somehow that I or someone else would come by? Or did
she have other plans, and I just happened by and caused a last-
minute change? The idle comment Miss Irene made brought all sorts
of questions to my mind. I even get up the nerve and temerity to
ask her how they knew she would obtain a maid.
She looked at me frostily and simply replied that it was none of
my business. I was merely her maid and I would be better off to
learn my duties rather than to worry about matters that didn't
concern me.
There was one hint she did give. She said that if it suited their
purpose, Mistress Circe would teach me all I needed to know in
order to become a better maid.
"Who is Mistress Circe?", I boldly inquired.
"Mistress Circe is the queen of the Sisters of Circe. She and a
25
few of her aides will be here for dinner tomorrow night. They
will judge your appearance and deportment to see if you are
worthy of continued development and training."
"Oh, if I don't pass, you turn me loose?"
"We have said enough about this. You had better realize that what
you learn, how you look and act will have a real bearing on
whether you live or die. Your impertinence will also be
considered in your judgment. I should add that your unprovoked
attack upon me and subsequent punishment will also be considered
in your final judgment. Your impertinent behavior that I am
observing now doesn't help you in the judgment."
I didn't need to be clubbed to get the hint. "Yes, Miss Irene," I
apologized, clumsily trying to curtsy. "Is there anything else
you need?"
She smiled at my attempted curtsy and said, "No, Gretchen, that's
all. You had better get back to work. However, it would be a good
idea for you to be more graceful when you curtsy to acknowledge
my orders."
Rather subdued, I returned to the laundry room. From the hints
that Miss Irene dropped, there was something more than me just
acting as a maid for one party. It appeared that my future had
but one real choice, slavery as a feminized maid. The options of
death or insanity were no choices. As far as I was concerned,
there was no other choice.
I finally finished the lingerie and began hanging the items on
lines that were strung across the room. While hanging them up, I
took the opportunity to study the windows. As I should have
expected, the windows were locked and had heavy grilles bolted to
them. Not to keep intruders out, but to make sure the subject of
feminization, me, stayed in.
While I was looking over the windows, with a very faint hope of
escape on my mind, Miss Irene walked in and saw me. "That's
right," she said. "Every window is securely barred. I don't want
my domestic help to 'accidentally' fall out and hurt themselves.
And you should also know that all of the doors are steel and the
locks are all electrically operated. Even if by some far-fetched
chance you managed to overcome me, there still wouldn't be any
way out. And the punishment for trying would be most severe."
Despondently, I knew that she spoke the truth. My fate was
sealed. Even if I could overwhelm my captor, I'd be trapped in
the house until Mistress Circe, whoever she was, came in and
found me.
"Oh, yes, another thing. The telephone is fixed so that all
outgoing calls are routed through the local Sisters of Circe
lines."
26
"Oh, I wasn't thinking of escape, Miss Irene. I'd never try to
escape from you or to make a telephone call without your
permission," I lied, going back to my chores.
"I just know you wouldn't, Gretchen," she said with a knowing
smile.
I finally finished the wash. Miss Irene told me to leave the
dainties hanging. When Miss Irene's friends came, they would pick
their own right off the line.
Chapter Seven
Miss Irene made an inspection of the washing and ironing. After
finding a few pleats in one skirt ironed incorrectly, which I had
to do over, she grudgingly approved my work.
She ordered me to bathe and to prepare myself wit clothes I would
find on my bed. When I was ready, I was to report to the den for
her inspection and scrutiny.
After bathing, I went to find my clothes on the bed as I was
instructed. The dress Miss Irene had chosen for me was a long
sleeved gown of a sheer crepe-like material. It was peach-colored
and lavishly ornamented with sequins, which gliitered and
sparkled as it moved. It had a high empress-style waistline. A
bright diamond-shaped pin, covered with rhinestones, was placed
between the breasts, accenting the bustline. The gown was floor-
length and draped seductively from my hips to the floor. It had a
side slit almost to the waist which gave an occasional
tantalizing glimpse of a long expanse of nylon-clad leg.
The lingerie consisted of matching panties, strapless bra, garter
belt, and a long half-slip that also had a side slit. The long
sheer hose also had a faint peach cast to match my dress. There
was a pair of shoes with at least a four-inch spiked heel in same
color to match the gown.
There was a necklace a pair of dangling earrings which I inserted
into my pierced ears. The jewelry was pearl (I don't think they
were real pearls, but they sure did look nice).
Needless to say, I took extra special pains and utilized my
growing skill to put on my makeup and brush out my wig. For a
fleeting moment I wished my own hair was long enough for it to be
femininely styled.
You used to read those stories about how some guy got himself
dressed up and turned out to be more beautiful and glamorous than
his girlfriend. Not me. There was no way I could approach Irene's
beauty or attractiveness. My reflection was that of a rather
27
attractive young lady, one who appeared naive, almost virginal,
but wanting to appear as a sophisticated young lady of the world.
I suddenly realized that I was enjoying my feminization! What was
happening to me? I had never had the leats desire to 'dress up'
before. Now I gloried in it. In fact, I could hardly wait to join
Miss Irene and hope for her approval of my girlish appearance.
I decided that later I would have to analyze my feelings. Right
now it wouldn't do to make Miss Irene wait for me while I
pondered on this concept.
With a bit of trepidation I went to meet Miss Irene in the den,
stumbling a little as my heels were higher than any I had worn
previously. Also, I tended to trip as I was not used to such a
long skirt.
Miss Irene was waiting for me, similarly clad in a long evening
gown. However, where mine was of an innocent pastel color and
relatively modest except for the side slit, hers was of flaming
red, backless, with a plunging neckline exposing the deep
cleavage between her breasts.
The difference carried deeper than our appearance. I was shy,
diffident, and rather nervous. Hell, I never thought I'd be
forced into feminine attire, much less a glamorous evening gown.
Miss Irene, on the other hand, was confident, self-assured, and
well aware of the lovely vision she presented. There was no doubt
that she was the dominant personality.
When she saw me, she smiled, "Why, Gretchen, you look charming!
Turn around and let me see all of you."
I obeyed, doing a slight pirouette and replied, "Thank you, Miss
Irene. I must say that you look quite attractive yourself."
For tonight, let's dispense with the 'Miss'. You have docilely
accepted your status for the last couple of days, except, of
course, for the bit of rebellion that I effectively quelled.
Other than, that, you have been quite cooperative and are
adapting well to your new role. Tomorrow at this time, you'll
either be dead or starting on an intensive training course to
prepare you to be an obedient subject to me and other members of
the Sisters of Circe."
"Who are these Sisters of Circe and this Mistress Circe you keep
referring to?"
"I may explain to you later. But first, if you look in the
freezer, you'll find two prepared meals. If you will put them in
the microwave for about thirty minutes, they'll be ready.
Meanwhile, I'll fix us a couple of drinks while we're waiting."
28
Well, I did and she did. When I returned from the kitchen, she
had a couple of Martinis in lovely long-stemmed crystal glasses.
They were potent. I think she forgot to take the cork out of the
vermouth bottle. The only thing I could see diluting the gin were
the olives, and they were small.
We had three before the microwave signaled that dinner was ready.
In any event, I was feeling the effect of them before we started
to eat.
The meal was fantastic: rock Cornish hens stuffed with some sort
of wild rice dressing and all of the trimmings. Its amazing what
they can do with frozen prepared meals these days.
After the meal we sat together on the overstuffed couch in the
den. It wasn't real cold but Irene started a small fire in the
fireplace. The flames began flickering hypnotically. At the same
time, Irene began plying us with Brandy Alexanders. Smooth and
potent. Like being hit with velvet sledge hammers. After the last
few days of involuntary servitude, I was enjoying this evening
immensely.
Irene took one of my hands in hers. The other she draped about my
shoulders, pulling me close and laying my head on her shoulder.
"How do you like being a girl?" she asked softly.
"Right now I'm enjoying it to the Nth degree. I feel like I have
sole possession of cloud nine," I replied. Strangely enough, I
did.
Now, I've heard of guys getting a kick out of wearing feminine
clothes and always thought of them as a bit nuts and kind of
sissified. But I must say I was enjoying wearing my clothes
immensely. The taut suspension of my bra and the gentle swell of
my breasts when I looked down at them was very sensuous. The
gossamer nylon hose seemed to add a soft sheen to my legs, and I
could feel the sheerness of them when I happened to rub my legs
together. Even the slight tug of my garter belt felt natural and
gave me a comfortable feeling knowing that it was holding my
nylons up and keeping them free of wrinkles. I decided then and
there that I liked the garter belt and nylons much better than
panty hose.
The gown and slip felt comfortable and natural and my skin
tingled where the hem dangled about my ankles. When the side slit
fell apart and displayed an expanse of nylon-clad leg it added a
sense of daring and a feeling of feminine vulnerability.
My genitals, imprisoned by the sheer silky nylon of my panties
was eroticism personified. I don't believe that I could make a
movement without becoming aware of their soft and gentle
confinement.
I realized that I was now hooked. Even if, by some far-fetched
29
chance, I was able to manage an escape, I would still be a
prisoner to my newfound desire to wear feminine clothing for the
rest of my life.
Chapter Eight
In any event, after starting on the second drink, I asked Miss
Irene about the Sisters of Circe.
"The Sisters of Circe," she replied, "is an organization of free-
thinking women, aware of their superiority and dedicated to the
humiliation and abasement of men as payment for the years they
have suffered under masculine domination. They do this
symbolically by capturing a male slave and humiliating him. This
humiliation may be by feminizing them, by infantilizing them, or
by training them to be pets animals. Of course, the women are not
limited to these classifications. They can train their males any
way they wish as long as the subject is constantly aware of his
subjugation to the whims and desires of his mistress."
"In fact," she continued, deviating from the subject a moment, "I
know of a woman who made a bed pot out of her male slave.
However, this is an extreme example and is not generally
practiced."
"The main purpose is not the method. It is the desire, the whim,
and even the fetish of the mistress. It is to continually make
the subject male aware that he is under the control of his
mistress and has no free will of his own, forever!"
"Yeah," I replied, "but this Sisters of Circe sounds like a
pretty big organization to me. How come I've never even heard of
it?"
"That's not surprising. Despite everything that you may have
heard, women can be very close-mouthed when necessary. There are
no living ex-slaves, sane ones anyway, that may talk about our
organization."
"I guess it's all right now to tell you a little about us, since
you won't be able to repeat it to anyone, except possibly other
slaves."
Here is the story she told me. She did put words in the mouths of
some of the women, which may or may not be quite precise, but it
did clear up several points.
* * * * * * * * *
THE SISTERS OF CIRCE
30
The Sisters of Circe was started about a hundred years ago. It
seems that there was a group of rather wealthy and independent-
minded women who would meet regularly. They would discuss many
topics of the day, but generally the main and central object of
discussion always came back to the subject of male domination,
the treatment of women as property, and most of all, how to
overcome this domination and give women at least equal rights.
"You must remember that this was in the late eighteen-seventies
and women's rights were not even thought about then. Women were
considered to be the property of their husbands or fathers,"
Irene interrupted herself.
During one of these meetings, one of the younger women burst out,
"I'd like to take one of those men and make him wear a bustle and
girdle and all the other uncomfortable clothing and perform
the menial housework that we women have to put up with."
"Oh, you say that, but you couldn't handle my pet dog, let alone
a big adult independent male," another woman answered
sarcastically.
"I could too! I'm quite athletic. I'm an excellent horsewoman and
tennis player. Besides, my brother has a book on the manly art of
self-defense and I've been sneaking it off and practicing. I
don't want any big, hulking, clumsy oaf. I'd pick one who is
small and delicate, one who would look attractive in women's
clothes."
"And where do you think you would find such a man?" another woman
asked.
"Males of that sort are all about and quite easy to find, if one
wants to look. Why, my father's tailor has an eighteen-year-old
apprentice who would make a lovely-looking girl. He's small and
delicate. I'll bet that master tailor would sell him for little
or nothing, and he's an orphan. No one would ever miss him. I
imagine there must be thousands like him."
The meeting degenerated from "I wish I could--" to "How's the
best way to--" and finally to "If you had one, where would you
keep him?"
Finally, one of the older women spoke up. "Except for me, my
family is all dead. We have a large estate in the country h=that
no one uses anymore. It's quite isolated. We don't talk about it
much, but father used to catch runaway slaves and hold them there
until their masters would come to get them. It has several rooms
that were used as jail cells. It also has a punishment area,
another way to say torture chamber. Now, if any of you women are
serious about the idea of overpowering, capturing, and training a
male to wear feminine clothing, then you're welcome to use of the
estate."
"All right," one woman jibed at the first speaker, "you now know
31
where to obtain your 'man'. You are offered a place to train him.
Now, what are you going to do about it?"
Stung by the dare, the woman replied, "I'll do it if someone else
will do it with me."
That created another uproar, and when the dust had settled, no
less than five women had each volunteered to domesticate and
feminize a man of their own choosing.
The women agreed to a few basic rules. No male under eighteen
would be taken. Otherwise, a woman could get a lad of ten or
twelve and train him with little difficulty.
It should be noted that putting boys in dresses for discipline
measures was an accepted procedure in those days. If a woman
could find a male over eighteen who had been through this
discipline, it was her good luck.
The second rule was that the selected make should not have any
close kin or friends who would raise a big stink if he should
suddenly turn up missing.
The third was that a male, once selected, would be trained and
kept for life, or killed, no exceptions. There would be no
opportunity for ex-slaves to disclose any information about the
group.
There was a bit of argument over this rule, but its importance
was accepted. It just meant that the women would be extremely
selective in choosing their subjects.
It should be noted that through the years, only a handful of
males suffered this fate, and these in every case demonstrated
violent criminal tendencies.
Basically, that was it. Find a male over eighteen that suits you,
one with no close family ties and have at it. With only a few
minor exceptions, these rules still apply today.
Well, to get back to the story, those five women found their
subjects. Taking them to this isolated estate, they trained them
with surprisingly little difficulty. Contrary to popular belief,
the women quickly discovered that the difference in physical
strength between the sexes was negligible. The individual with
the most rigorous training and the practicing of what we know
call the martial arts made the difference. All of the women who
first accepted this challenge were quite physical and aggressive.
They had no real difficulty in subjugating and training their
males.
They also found an unexpected bonus in this 'experiment'. Once
the male had been thoroughly dominated and forced to wear women's
clothing, they actually embraced their femininity and adored
their mistresses. They would endure any punishment and discipline
32
just for the honor of serving them.
Those old-time women had one problem with their feminized males,
though - facial hair. There were no depilatories or even safety
razors then - only straight razors. These razors would shave as
close or even closer than safety razors today - in the hands of
an expert. There were probably many who had light beards or were
able to shave closely every day who had no trouble passing as
women.
However, there were a number of feminized males who could not
shave closely every day. These made full use of veils which were
very common at that time to hide their stubble. This may have
been a significant reason why veils were so popular then.
All in all, these first five women were quite successful in
establishing their dominance over their feminized male slaves.
Like most endeavors, success breeds success, and over the years,
the number of women wanting male slaves burgeoned. No one knows
how many there are today. There may be hundreds, thousands,
perhaps even millions.
The original estate where the first males were taken is no longer
in existence. The women spread out and formed individual groups
in their own town or locality. Each group maintains its own
membership. There is a loose confederation, but by common
consent, each woman keeps her affiliation secret. There are signs
and passwords so that members from different chapters can
recognize each other.
Another gradual change has been the growth in the diversification
of training. At first, the women were only interested in
feminizing their males. However, some of the women became
interested in variations. Now, in addition to our feminized
males, we also have males who have been infantilized, trained to
be pets of one sort or another in all kinds of variations,
limited only by the imagination of the dominant woman.
Although the organization still operates basically the same,
there have been some changes over the years. In the late
nineteen-forties, one of the members, a neurosurgeon, attempted
to develop a procedure whereby males failing to be acceptable
could have their memories of their captivity excised. However,
the procedure resulted only in insanity for the poor subjects.
Despite this one unfortunate failure, we women have developed
several improvements in our procedures. We now have improved
depilatories, female hormones, and breast implants, and even the
birth control pill was developed from original studies done by
members of the Sisters of Circe.
Needless to say, we women adopted all the new techniques in our
training methods and disciplinary measures. However, over the
years we have found that nothing has been quite as effective as
33
the good old fashioned lap spanking. It combines a measured
infliction of pain and obvious humiliation to the males lucky
enough to be selected by a dominant woman.
We have also developed other procedures affecting the physical
qualities and mental attitudes of the subject males. Most of
these are not yet available to the general public. For instance,
the depilatory with a hair growth inhibitor that you received is
one of our newer developments.
Irene smiled, "There is also a potion that I put in your food
the first night that can cause the mistress to gain control of
the sexual behavior of the subject. It is not fully perfected yet
and only sets up the mind of the subject to be receptive. The
mistress must use commands, discipline, and punishment to fully
imprint it in the mind of the subject. Once established, it
should be permanent. They hope to eventually develop it so that
control will be immediate without the need to use physical
feedback. That is why I can control your genital arousal and
erections."
She also indicated that there were many other developments, some
perfected, others they were still working on. One they almost
have completed is a hormone that will stimulate breast
development and the growth of feminine curves on the male body
without inhibiting the male potency. Retention of male potency is
necessary so that male will always be a male, albeit a dominated,
feminized one. Another is the ability of a developed male breast
to lactate so that they can breast-feed babies for their
mistresses. "Another development is the ability to increase the
physical strength and agility of we women. I believe you may have
noticed its effectiveness when you tried to attack me," she added
unnecessarily, with a sort of gloating smile.
"These are only a few examples of the advances we have made or
are working on. I am sure that if you are accepted as a permanent
slave to me, you will be exposed to many more of our developments
to make the superior woman's life easier. If certain of these
techniques cause the male to be more aware of his subjugation and
dependence on the superior woman, so much the better."
I listened with amazement. A whole secret feminist organization
that was dedicated to subjugating and training male slaves had
been going on, under our very noses, so to speak, for over a
hundred years without anyone ever knowing about it.
After digesting this story, my mind was whirling with questions.
"If you can do all that, why don't you just give the selected
male a complete sex change?"
Irene was amused at the question. "No - we will make our males
look feminine, act feminine, and even think feminine. But they
must be constantly aware that they are dominated and debased
males, subject to the orders, desires, and whims of their
superior mistresses. In no way will we allow our slaves to feel
34
that they are anywhere near our equal by giving them a sex
change."
"Who is this Mistress Circe you keep talking about? If each
chapter is independent, how do they know about her?"
"The president of each chapter is known as 'Mistress Circe'. It
is more or less an honorary title given to the woman who has
trained the most males."
Chapter Nine
She then dismissed the subject. "I've told you all you need to
know, perhaps a bit more than you should know at this time. I
just want you to realize that once selected, your future is
sealed. It is either servitude or death. But tonight, let's talk
about other things."
During this discourse, Irene had interrupted herself a few times
to have me procure us fresh drinks. By know, they were beginning
to have an effect on me.
To tell the truth, I was beginning to have erotic feelings about
Irene. We were still holding hands, and I was fully aware that
our hands were resting directly on my crotch. My head was still
resting on her shoulder.
She then leaned over and gave me a long lingering kiss. While
we were trading lipstick, she slipped her tongue into my mouth
and began searching for mine.
I interrupted her for a moment and asked, "One more thing. How do
you know that the 'selected male' can be trained to be obedient?"
"Gretchen, our organization has over a hundred years of
experience in training and domesticating males. We have developed
to a fine art the use of discipline, punishment, training,
education, tenderness, love, and even sex to accomplish our
objectives. If you are finally selected for servitude, you will
see how effective our methods are. It is true that some may take
a bit longer than others. But they all learn to be obedient and
to love it."
She looked at me with a smile and asked, "Would you rather
continue the conversation or do this?" She again leaned over and
kissed me, tonguing me.
At that moment, all thoughts of Circe and its implications
disappeared in a wave of erotic feeling. The simile of the black
widow spider again went through my mind. I guess I subconsciously
realized that this was another phase in gaining domination over
35
me, making it attractive enough that I would willingly obey her
commands. But I dismissed the thought. Tonight, in a rising tide
of emotion, anything was worth continuing my lovemaking with
Irene.
By now, Irene was delicately fumbling at my crotch through my
gown, while I did the same thing in fondling her breasts. "I'll
be happy when you have real breasts that I can fondle too," she
whispered huskily.
Our kissing grew more intense. My fumbling fingers had no trouble
in finding an opening in her gown, and I was soon fondling her
bared breast. On the other hand, Irene experienced a bit of
difficulty in reaching up under my long skirt. However, she took
advantage of the side slit and I could feel the hem of my gown
being gradually pulled up over my knees. Then, her fingers began
moving up the inside of my thigh, pausing a moment to play with
the top of my nylons and gently snapping the garters before
finding my lace panties.
I could feel my gorge rising as I began pulling up her gown in
the same manner as she did mine. She suddenly pulled away from
our kissing and whispered in my ear, "I have not yet given you
permission to have an erection."
Somehow, it worked - again. I could feel myself subsiding. There
was no lessening of my sensitivity or passion. I could still feel
her fingers gently manipulating me through the smooth nylon of my
panties, and they felt just as good and exciting as before, but
now there was no sign of an erection.
Meanwhile, my loss of an erection in no way slowed down my
fumbling fingers, and in no time I had her dress hiked up over
her knees, my hands beginning to explore the soft flesh of her
upper thighs. I reciprocated to her a little by playing with her
garters and nylons. I only dawdled a moment in this area before
winding my way up her upper thigh until I found the spot where it
met her opposite member. There, my fingers encountered a moist,
hairy spot. Either she was not wearing panties or she was wearing
those fancy crotchless devices. In either event, I fumbled about
the soft flesh until I could find an opening and immediately, but
gently, inserted an exploring finger.
She arched her back and squeezed her thighs together, trapping my
hand while my finger continued its slow and gentle exploration of
the warmth and dampness of the crevasses it encountered.
Suddenly, and without a bit of warning, her hand moved from
my genitals and grabbed the hair of my head. Another surge and I
was kneeling on the floor in front of her, my mouth where my hand
had been only a few seconds before, and my tongue replaced my
finger.
Now, if you think that bothered me, think again. At that moment,
the most important thing in my life was to get her to come and a
36
result of the ministrations of my lips and tongue.
I succeeded and she came, fully and copiously, into my mouth. For
a moment, she was lost in a sea of satiated emotion. Almost
immediately the fog cleared. She came back to reality and wanted
more.
She pulled my head back and looked at me, eyeball to eyeball,
finally saying, "Why don't we get out of these damn clothes.
Maybe, just maybe, I'll allow you to-". I didn't need a second
invitation, and we traipsed to her bedroom, dropping clothes as
we went.
We arrived at her bedroom, still shucking excess clothing. She
stopped me before I could divest myself of my bra, garter belt,
and my nylons. Meanwhile, she stropped down to the buff.
I started to pile onto the bed, intending to continue where we
left off. She stopped me, saying, "You must learn that even in
your moments of ecstasy, you are still under the control and
domination of your mistress. To reinforce the concept of
superiority, you must be in bondage during any sexual union with
your mistress. Before we continue any further, I must restrain
you."
I was so eager to get on with our lovemaking that I gladly put my
hands behind my back so that she could manacle them.
We piled onto the bed. Irene placed me onto my back, straddling
me, her knees on either side of my head so that she was looking
straight down at my cock and I was looking straight up into her
vagina. She immediately lowered herself, and my tongue took on
where it had left only a few moments ago.
She lowered her head and began licking and nuzzling my cock. We
had only engaged in this mutual licking a few moments when she
said, "Oh, by the way, you may have an erection now, but no
orgasm until I give you permission."
That turned on the switch for me. I immediately felt myself
beginning to respond and within a few seconds I was rock hard,
enjoying the sensation of a warm mouth encircling my prick with
an occasional tongue licking at its tip and digging at the tiny
opening.
Meanwhile, my tongue and lips were working overtime and I could
feel Irene wiggle and squirm in response to my ministrations. We
did that for a year or so, both of us reaching our pinnacle of
eroticism.
Then she suddenly pulled away from me, reversed herself, and
took my throbbing erection into the warm, moist depths of her
vagina. Once she had engulfed me so that we were belly-to-belly,
she clamped down on me, closing her legs tightly together,
forcing me to spread my nylon-clad legs to accommodate her.
37
We pulsed that way for a century. Wave after wave of excitement
ran through me. Starting right behind my ears, it would go down
my spine, to be followed immediately by another one.
Irene must have been having sensations of her own, as she would
throb and quiver, repressed gasps occasionally escaping from
between her clenched teeth.
Suddenly, her movements quickened, her gasps grew more shallow
and rapid. When it seemed that she could move no faster, she
burst out, audibly, "Come, damn it! Now! Now!"
I was ready, more than ready, and could feel my juices boil up
inside me. Suddenly, I climaxed, came, ejaculated, had an orgasm,
call it what you will, but I exploded my seed deep inside her,
and she took it, straining against me. I quivered, she shivered
in our mutual orgasm.
Clumsily, but adequately, I clasped my legs together behind her
waist, pulling her to me. Meanwhile, she pressed against me,
making sure that every bit of me was within her.
We froze in that tableau, expending the last dregs of our aroused
emotion in a brief stage of frozen bliss.
We then relaxed, I released my legs, freeing Irene. She made no
effort to pull away but kept squeezing the lips of her vagina on
my rapidly spent penis, trying to extract every bit of my come.
Finally, no longer able to hold my wilting penis with the lips
of her labia, she rolled off of me and we lay side by side for a
few moments, reliving our recent experience.
Suddenly, Irene roused up. "Our little interlude is over. We'll
take a shower together, but then it's time for beddy-bye for you
in your own little bed."
We took our shower. Miss Irene replaced the chastity irons she
had removed during our bath.
"Why do you have to put those things on me?" I asked. "You have
me locked up in that bed so that I couldn't get out even if I
wanted to."
"Why, that's to prevent you from playing with yourself while you
are alone."
"Holy gee! After the session we just went through, I don't think
I'll bother myself tonight."
"That may be so, but I don't want to get out of the habit of
restraining you at night. That way I KNOW you won't bother
yourself. Besides, I want you to to be helpless and dependent on
me to even allow you the use of your hands."
38
She then locked me in my crib and started to leave me. "How come
you lock me in this thing at night? What happens if I have to use
the bathroom?"
"You'd just better learn to control it. If I should happen to
find your bed or you messed up or wet, then you would have to
wear a diaper and rubber panties to bed . Not only that, but it
would be marked on on your record and you would be required to
take potty training during your indoctrination."
Without another word, she left me with only sweet memories of our
little interlude and an uneasy feeling about having to wear
diapers at night.
However, in spite of all of the negative aspects of my servitude,
it would almost be acceptable if only I was allowed an occasional
evening such as this one.
Chapter Ten
The next morning, my captress came and released me from my bed.
"Just to remind you that, despite last night's 'relaxation',
nothing has changed regarding our status. You are still subject
to my orders and desires. You will continue to address me as
'Miss Irene'. We will be having guests tonight. You will address
them as 'Mistress' along with their title or name. Just don't
forget. Your memory may be a life or death matter to you."
She then handed me a jar. "Here is some depilatory. Put it on,
wait fifteen minutes, and then shower. Just make sure that your
body is smooth and absolutely hairless when you finish."
I rubbed my hand along my face. "I don't think I need that stuff
yet. My face still feels smooth and I don't see any sign of hair
on my body." It was true. Normally, I shaved every day to avoid
any sign of stubble. However, after well over two days, I could
still see no sign of even a fuzz on my face.
"No one gave you permission to think!" she replied haughtily."You
must learn to obey me without question, Gretchen." Then, in a
softer tone, "You may be right, but I see no reason to take any
chances. If they should find the least little trace of hair on
your face or body, you will fail and that will be that. You will
be as good as dead. What's worse, I would receive demerits for
not making sure that you were presentable."
Somehow the thought of Miss Irene receiving demerits didn't
upset me nearly as much as the thought that if I didn't pass, I
would be dead. You can be sure that I applied the cream
liberally.
39
After waiting the prescribed length of time, then showering and
rinsing off the cream, I carefully examined my face and body.
There was no sign of even a single follicle of hair and my face
felt as smooth as a baby's bare bottom.
Grabbing a silky shorty robe which barely covered my thighs, I
reported to Miss Irene. She had laid out the maid's outfit that I
had worn the first day. "You have cleaned the house and done the
laundry. Today you are going to cook."
"Mistress Circe and two of her companions, Mistresses Cato and
Olga, will be the guests, as well as myself, of course. After you
have prepared the meal and finished up with all of the
preliminaries, you will change into a more appropriate outfit to
serve us."
"The menu tonight will start off with caviar as an appetizer. A
clear beef broth, seasoned with special spices, will be next. The
main course will be lobster cooked in an oyster sauce and quail
marinated in ginger. The vegetables will be stuffed baked
potatoes and artichoke hearts in a heavy cream sauce."
"For dessert, you will prepare a few pies with various fillings
so that our guests may have a selection. You will serve them
beverages of their choice during the meal, and of course you will
serve cocktails before and after the meal."
"Miss Irene," I responded after listening to the exotic menu that
I was expected to prepare, "I did a spell as a short-order cook
but there's no way that I'll be able to cook all the stuff you
mentioned."
"Gretchen! This is part of your test! There are all sorts of
cookbooks in the kitchen and they have detailed instructions on
how to prepare those dishes."
"Hurry and get yourself dressed and apply your makeup. Then you
can get into the kitchen and have all day to familiarize yourself
on how to prepare the menu."
"But..."
"There are no 'buts'. If you think you can get away with serving
these women hot dogs, you are dreadfully wrong - and may as well
be dead."
With that she turned on her heel and walked off. I carefully
dressed, applied my makeup, and brushed out my wig after I had
put it on. I said 'carefully', and meant it. I didn't want to
flunk a surprise inspection by Miss Irene. I did that a few times
in the last couple of days and received some unpleasant jolts.
Miss Irene often carries a cattle prod and is not hesitant about
using it if she deems that I am not properly attired or following
her orders implicitly.
40
I went into the kitchen with a sinking heart. There was no way
that I could properly prepare the items on that menu.
I was wrong! Among the cookbooks there was a sheaf of
mimeographed papers. These papers listed the exact menu and gave
explicit and readable instructions on how to prepare each and
every dish.
By following the directions, and if I didn't try to hurry too
much or panic, I could prepare a passable meal. Fortunately to
add to my serendipity, there were extra ingredients in case I did
mess something up.
It was by no means as difficult as I had previously imagined. In
fact, after a while, I began enjoying myself, sampling and
tasting the dishes in various stages of completion.
Later in the afternoon, Miss Irene came into the kitchen for the
umptyith inspection. I proudly informed her that the meal was
well in hand and would be ready to serve by seven P.M. Everything
would be done, needing only a few minutes of final preparation to
get it ready to be served.
I was then directed to go up and prepare myself to be properly
dressed and presentable. For this occasion, I was allowed to use
her commodious bath and luxuriated as long as I could in the
warm, bubbly, perfumed bath. Finally, reluctant in having to
leave it, I dried myself with a big fluffy towel.
I was then instructed to redo my nails. This time, I put on false
nails, which were long and glamorous. The color, this time, was a
deep and unmistakable red.
Miss Irene gave me a little device that at first looked like the
bottom half of a bikini bathing suit, except that the material
seemed to be a kind of stretch elastic. When I pulled it on and
got it properly placed, Miss Irene reached inside and pushed my
penis back between my legs. I suddenly had no more genitals -
visible, anyway. That little flesh-colored device forced my balls
back up into my crotch and held my penis back between my legs so
that there was not a visible sign of any masculine bulge.
I next put on a pair of wispy black nylon bikini panties and
matching black lace bra which held my inserts in a completely
natural manner. There was also a sheer black minislip with a
scalloped lace hem that almost covered my hips.
Before I put on my outer clothes, Miss Irene insisted that I
apply my makeup. Instead of letting me do it and coming to her
later for inspection, she stayed there and supervised the actual
application.
The basic pancake was bit heavier, the eye shadow a bit deeper.
The eye liner and eyebrows were a bit darker and more emphasized.
41
She gave me some kind of stuff to apply with the mascara which
lengthened and accented my lashes and made my eyes look deeper
and wider.
The cheek color was more pronounced and lipstick was a bright
red, almost garish. It was the same shade as my nails. Miss Irene
explained that under the dim, artificial light, the makeup must
be heavier and more defined. She finally concluded, "If you pass
and are accepted for training, you will be taught the proper type
of makeup for every situation and type of lighting, be it natural
or artificial."
Now, time was getting short I soon would be judged. I was
beginning to get a bit nervous, especially when my captress kept
saying 'if'.
In fact it began bothering me so much that I got up enough
courage to ask, "Do you think I'll pass, Miss Irene?"
"Oh, yes, Gretchen. The investigators study a subject rather
intensively before they are finally selected. Really, I've been
told that there are very few not accepted for training, once they
have been inducted for preliminary review as you have been."
That made me feel a bit better, but I still had butterflies in my
stomach.
Miss Irene would allow no more discussion. She handed me the
outfit I would wear for the evening. Handed was a good word. It
was a maid's outfit, skimpy enough so that you could hold the
whole thing in one hand.
The basic outfit was black. The skimpy skirt was stiffened so
that although the hem should have been halfway between the hips
and knees, it was actually much higher due to the wide flare. The
top wasn't much more decorous. It had a deep plunging neckline,
stopping barely in time to maintain my image of having real
breasts. The sleeves were short, puffed out, and capped.
I was given a pair of black fishnet panty hose. The weave about
the ankles was rather close and tight. However, it opened up as
it went up my leg, so that by the time it was up to my thighs the
weave was almost an inch square and showed a considerable expanse
of white flesh. My feet were forced in a pair of black high-
heeled pumps with at least a four-inch heel, taper down to a
sharp point.
There was a white organdy apron, tied in the back with a big
puffy bow. About all it did was to accent the brevity and flare
of my skirt. There was also a little white organdy hairpiece
perched jauntily on top of my perfectly coiffed head.
Miss Irene also had me wear a gold choker necklace with a large
brooch like a decoration that the throat which only served to
show off the expanse of flesh bared by the deep neckline. A pair
42
of pierced earrings that matched the brooch dangled from my ears.
Miss Irene carefully inspected her maid as a finished product.
Satisfied with what she saw, she stated that I was as ready as I
would ever be to meet my judges and possible executioners.
Chapter Eleven
I barely had time to get into the kitchen and begin making the
last-minute preparations when the doorbell chimed.
"That must be Mistress Circe and her companions", called Miss
Irene from the bedroom. "Let them in and serve some refreshments.
I'll be out in a minute."
With a great deal of trepidation and reluctance, I went to the
door and to greet my judge and potential executioners. As I
approached it, I heard the lock click. Miss Irene had switched
off the electronic bolt, releasing the door lock. I opened the
door and looked at a lovely pair of boobs!
Now, I'm five feet eight with four inch heels, probably nearing
six feet, but as my eyes traveled up to the face of the imposing
woman facing me, I felt like a size petite.
The woman towered over me by a good six or seven inches. Of
course, she was wearing heels too, but still, I'd guess her
normal height to be over six feet. She had a body like a goddess
and had long golden hair that hung down her back, almost to her
waist. Her skin was clear and fair, her nose straight and
aquiline. The lips were full and kissable. However, all her other
features and attributes paled into insignificance when I looked
into her eyes.
They were green, as beautiful and hard as emeralds, no pity or
softness in them. She stared down at me, looking down into the
depths of my being, seeing the fear and apprehension that welled
up inside me. It was almost a physical effort to keep from
falling to me knees and kissing her feet. However, I did bow my
head in an attitude of submission.
Recovering my composure a bit, I raised my head, not enough to
look her in the face again, but to note her two companions. They
were quite distinguished in their own right with their imperious,
regal bearing. One had dark hair and rather exotic features, who
I took to be Mistress Cato. The other, who was blonde, I assumed
was Mistress Olga. They were not quite as tall as Mistress Circe,
but still required me to look up to see their faces.
I stepped aside to let them enter, but they made no immediate
motion to do so. They just stood there, eyeing me. Discomfited, I
43
could only stare at the floor and await their pleasure.
Finally, Mistress Circe said, "Turn around, slowly."
Then she added contemptuously, "You must be the worm that Irene
thinks worthy enough to serve us, and after we properly prepare
you, emulate us in manners and appearance. Well, we shall see."
As she was talking, I was slowly turning about. "Keep your knees
straight and touch the floor with the tips of your fingers."
Because the high-heeled shoes raised me higher than normal, I had
a bit of difficulty in reaching the floor, but after stretching a
few times, finally made it. As I did so, I felt my abbreviated
skirt and slip being pulled back and my panties being pulled
down. Suddenly, two welts of fire were laid across my buttocks.
My panties and skirt were replaced and I was ordered to stand and
turn around, keeping my head bowed. Needless to say, I obeyed.
"You do not raise your eyes to your mistresses unless ordered.
Didn't Mistress Irene instruct you about that?"
"Yes, Mistress Circe, but I forgot. When I opened the door I was
so surprised to see such a majestic and beautiful woman that I
was awe-struck and momentarily forgot my manners."
"I'll bet you do a better job remembering next time," answered
Mistress Circe. I think she kind of smiled but I didn't dare
look. I did hear titters of amusement from the other two women
who were witnessing my humiliation.
About that time Miss Irene came up. "Why, Mistress Circe and
Mistresses Cato and Olga, it's lovely seeing you again. I see
that you've met Gretchen."
"Yes, and I didn't even get inside the door before I had to
punish her. Didn't you teach her to be respectful and deferential
to her superiors? She had the gall to stare at me. After the
lesson I just gave her, I don't think she will do it again for a
while."
I started to protest that I really wasn't disrespectful, but
astonished at her beauty and majesty. However, I bit my tongue
and remained silent.
"I guess I have been a bit lenient with her. I'll just step up
the voltage on my cattle prod and inflict a bit more discipline
for even making indications of disrespect."
"That is, if she is still alive after tonight," Mistress Circe
said ominously, glaring daggers at me, which I was aware of even
with a bowed head.
Miss Irene then turned to me. "Gretchen, you did not start off by
making any points. For your sake, I hope you do better during the
44
rest of the evening. You may ask our guests if they would lime
some refreshments, cocktails, perhaps."
"Mistress Circe," I croaked. My mouth had become dry in my
anxiety and the pain from the sudden spanking. I audibly cleared
my throat and again asked the women what they would like. They
gave me their orders, and as luck would have it, they each wanted
a different drink.
Hoping that I could remember and prepare the different drinks, I
traipsed a bit clumsily toward the kitchen. Those heels came down
to a sharp point and were higher than any I had worn previously.
Besides, my buns were still tingling and I didn't dare rub them
in their presence.
As I left, I heard one of the women comment about my momentary
stumble. "She should be able to walk a bit better, and she should
also be taught to really sway her ass a bit more provocatively."
All I could think of was that another black mark had been chalked
up against me.
Well, I got the drinks mixed. Here again it was easier than I had
feared. There was a book of recipes for mixed drinks lying on the
sink and all of the ingredients were easily found.
I served them, if not gracefully and practiced, at least not
spilling any on the guests, although I did slosh a bit on the
tray. Here again, I received negative comments on my serving
abilities.
I guess they enjoyed making rude comments about my lack of
experience because I prepared and served each of the women three
or four drinks apiece and received snide comments each time.
Between serving the drinks, I was required to stand demurely by
the kitchen door, ready to serve if any of the women required
anything.
They were sitting about, talking in low voices. Although I kept
my head deferentially bowed, I could see that occasionally one of
them would look my way and then make a comment. Once in a while,
one of them would get up and circle about me, inspecting me quite
intently.
During one of these inspections, Mistress Cato approached,
lifted my skirt and felt my crotch. I heard her remark to Miss
Irene, "I see where you have her genitals tucked safely away."
I heard Miss Irene answer, "Yes, she's pretty well trained not to
get an erection without permission. But with her wearing the
revealing, abbreviated outfit, you sexy looking women about and
the briefness of her training, I just didn't want to take any
chances of her showing any unsightly bulge."
About that time, dinner was ready, and I announced it. The women
seated themselves at the table. I noticed that Mistress Olga made
45
a quick inspection of the table and audibly, so I could hear,
pointed out a few errors in the silverware layout.
Well, I'm no great chef, but the meal must have been at least
adequate. At least, everyone was eating everything in sight, at
the same time complaining vociferously about how poorly the meal
had been prepared and served.
They finally finished the meal and I was about to serve dessert
when Mistress Circe said, "We had to suffer through warm drinks
and a cold meal prepared and served by that abject failure of a
maid. While we have our dessert, she will crawl under the table
and try to do with her tongue what she could not do her hands."
Obviously, I had failed their test. If I understood Mistress
Circe right, my only hope was to try and satisfy then sexually
while they were having their dessert. After I served the dessert,
Mistress Cato grabbed me by the back of my neck and forced me
down on all fours under the table.
I knew what was expected of me, and apparently it was my last
chance for survival. I crawled over to Mistress Circe. She had
pulled her dress up over her knees and spread her legs. I stuck
my head between them and worked my way up to her crotch, kissing
and licking her upper thighs as I went. I finally reached her
crotch. Whether by incident or design, she was wearing no
panties, so I had no difficulty in finding her damp little love
nest. Did I say little? It may have been little in comparison to
her size, but it was almost like a cavern. My tongue could never
hope to penetrate its depths, although I tried with every bit of
fervor I could generate. As far as I knew, my life depended upon
satisfying these women.
Although I couldn't reach fully into the depths, I did find a few
sensitive spots and was rewarded by convulsive hip gyrations
during my ministrations. I kept at it for what seemed like an
eternity. I just had to satisfy this woman. Finally, she went
rigid and her legs clamped around my head. I thought I was in a
vise. This woman was unbelievably strong! Luckily, she only
clamped down a few moments and then relaxed. I don't know if my
head could have lasted much longer.
She reached down with her hand and pushed me from her crotch. At
the same time, I could feel another hand grab me and pull me
between another pair of legs. I repeated the process. This woman
did not have the size or power of Mistress Circe, but she was
quite impressive in her own way. As my head was being directed
to where the eager woman was waiting in anticipation of my
arrival, I recognized her to be Mistress Cato. She had long,
tapering legs, and once I positioned myself, she locked them
about my head, forcing my head and tongue to just where she
wanted them to be. I knew what was expected of me and did my
best, and was eventually rewarded by her reaching orgasm and
unleashing a flood, which I swallowed. She then relaxed her legs,
but she would not release my head until I had licked all the
46
dampness from about her vagina.
Then it was time for Mistress Olga. She was different again from
Mistresses Circe and Cato. Although her legs were as muscular and
toned as my other two mistresses, they seemed much softer and
more delicate. Instead of forcing my head into her love box, she
sort of guided me, and all during my licking and tonguing, she
moved my head about to where she wanted stimulation, which I gave
to the best of my ability. Finally satisfying herself with my
tongue, she released me.
I wasn't sure if Mistress Irene wanted my servicing at that time,
but just to take no chances, I approached her. She definitely did
want my services and I gladly obliged. Now, although the other
women had their good points, when my face snuggled into Mistress
Irene's snatch, it felt like I was coming home. Since I had
tongued her previously, I had a pretty good idea as to how to
turn her on. I used my knowledge of her sensitive areas to bring
her to orgasm quite quickly, as my tongue was beginning to tire.
After I had serviced all four women, I climbed out from under the
table and rose to my feet, head bowed, awaiting a decision.
"My goodness," exclaimed Mistress Olga. "Look at her makeup. You
would think that a maid who valued her existence would maintain a
better appearance."
"She sure is a clumsy maid," added Mistress Cato. "All during the
time she was under the table trying to please us, the only thing
I could hear was her shuffling about. I don't know about her
gracefulness."
Mistress Circe said nothing, but I could see from under my
downcast eyes that she was eyeing me quizzically, a faint smile
of derision on her face.
"All right, Gretchen," Mistress Irene ordered. "We are going into
the den to discuss your fate. You will bring us drinks and wait
while we deliberate."
I brought and served the women drinks and was then forced to
stand outside the den while they discussed my future.
There was no doubt in my mind that I had failed and that my doom
was sealed. Desperately I cast about for some way out. Then I
remembered! Miss Irene had released the electronic bolts for the
door when the women entered, and she had never reset them. The
door was not locked!
Chapter Twelve
The women were all busy with their discussion. No one was paying
47
any attention to me. I went over to the door and pushed. It swung
open. Slipping out of my high-heeled shoes, I took off, hearing
startled gasps as I ran out the door.
I hadn't gone ten feet when I realized that I wasn't going far
with no shoes. Fortunately, the car in which they had arrived was
sitting there. Even more fortunately, the keys were sitting in
plain sight on the dashboard.
I jammed the key in the ignition. Damn! It didn't work. Trunk
key, I guess. I jammed the other key in the ignition, and it
didn't work either.
Meanwhile, the women were sauntering out, in no particular hurry
as they approached the car where I was frantically fooling with
the keys.
Mistress Olga casually opened the door on the passenger side,
slid in, and dangled a set of keys from an upraised finger. "I
think these are the ones you want," she said with a sarcastic
smile. "Those others are just dummies - for a dummy."
I knew I was whipped, had been set up. I slumped over the
steering wheel and began making dry, wracking sobs. I could see
death staring me in the face. Surely there weren't going to let
me live after an attempted escape!
Meanwhile, one of the other women, I don't know which, opened the
car door and dragged me out. My hands were manacled behind me and
I was marched back into the house. As we entered, I heard the
door slam and the lock click with dreadful finality.
I was back where I started, only now I was in a much more
precarious position. I stared defiantly at Mistress Circe's face.
Looking her directly in the eye, I said, "OK, you've got me. Go
ahead and kill me."
She looked at me and smiled. "Your name is James Carrion, is it
not?"
I looked at her in amazement. "Yeah - how did you know my name? I
tried to give it to Miss Irene when she first captured me, and
all she said was that she didn't give a damn about my old name or
past."
"We know a lot about you. No brothers or sisters. Attended State
University for two years. Quit after your parents were killed in
a storm. Apparently, you lost some incentive to live after their
death. Since then you've been working all around the country at
various odd jobs. No close friends or relatives. Height about
five foot nine, weight about one hundred thirty-five pounds."
"Yeah, but how did you know that I'd come to this house? If that
dame hadn't taken me down that deserted country road and robbed
me, I would never have come to this place."
48
"That 'dame' was a member of our organization. She took you down
that road and left you. There was only one way for you to go, and
this is the only house for miles around. The rain was a fortunate
accident. We Sisters of Circe have many doctors and scientists
among our members and have contributed many new and innovative
inventions and procedures, but weather control is not one of them
- yet."
"Well, OK - so when are you going to kill me?" I finally said
wearily.
"Kill you? Why should we kill you?"
"I flunked the test. I tried to escape."
"Gretchen, please understand that your testing began the moment
you walked through that door. Before that, in fact, since we went
through a rather detailed investigation to determine if you were
a likely candidate."
"Irene has stated that except for one or two minor exceptions,
you were quite a docile and cooperative subject. You were even
beginning to be quite proud of your feminine appearance."
"We led you to believe that you had failed and would be executed.
We then offered you an opportunity to escape. By your being alert
enough to try to take advantage of the situation, you showed
considerable ingenuity. We believe that you will be an excellent
candidate to be Irene's personal maid after your training."
"Well, what happens now?"
"You will be given at least thirty days intensive training at our
secret 'College of Feminine Improvement' under the direction of
Irene. She will be assisted by Mistresses Cato and Olga and other
specialists in various areas of feminine grooming, cooking,
sewing, and other specialties in order for you to efficiently
serve your mistress."
"This training will consist of learning implicit obedience and
the proper way to address your mistresses and superiors. It will
also include lessons on makeup, skin care, hair arrangement, and
grooming. You will be taught how to present a proper feminine
appearance and adopt feminine mannerisms so that they will become
your natural behavior while serving her or passing in public if
she wishes you to accompany her."
"You will be one of the first males to undergo our new hormone
treatment to permit you to grow natural breasts and more feminine
curves. Since Miss Irene has indicated that she occasionally
enjoys sex relations with her subject, we will make sure that
your male potency is retained."
"Also, during this time, you will be shown the advantages and
49
benefits of cooperation and obedience, as well as the discipline
and punishment reserved for recalcritant slaves. After that you
will become Irene's personal maid and companion."
"Yes, Mistress Circe."
"One other thing, Gretchen. Who gave you permission to stare at
me?"
I immediately lowered my head in an attitude of submission, at
the same time anticipating and dreading an unexpected future.
I must say that the thought of another lovemaking session with
Miss Irene would be worth anything these women could throw at me.
To cap it all off, I'd get to wear pretty, frilly feminine
clothing, even in public.
I was interrupted by Miss Irene saying, "Come on, Gretchen, we
have to leave here now. There is another prospective candidate
scheduled to arrive here tomorrow night. My best friend Lisa is
going to greet him."
50