By: RH Music
Chapter 1:
"It makes no sense for you to go home tonight," Mrs. Roberts said. "It's
such a long drive."
I was in the drawing room being interviewed for a short-term tutoring
position by Mrs. Roberts, a tall, matronly woman, generously
proportioned, with a firm, no-nonsense, but warmly accepting air about
her.
"You can't go!" Denise agreed. "The test is this coming Sunday! That's
less than a week away! Please, if I don't get into Cleavage college...
I'll just die! You just *have* to help me!"
Denise Roberts, a beautiful, bright eyed, teenage girl, grabbed me tight
around the waist, as if to physically prevent me from leaving. Like her
mother, she was not without her own generous curves, which were now
pressed urgently against me.
"But I don't have any clothes or toiletries," I responded. "I just drove
over for the interview. I never imagined that you might ask me to start
right away."
I tried unsuccessfully to extract myself from Denise's firm hug, but the
more I struggled, the tighter she held me, pressing her enormous young
breasts into my body, her head on my shoulder with her hair, full of the
smell of shampoo and perfume, in my face.
"I have some clothes from my late husband," Mrs. Roberts offered. "You
can wear those."
"But..." I stammered, "I mean... you're very generous but at least I'll
have to go home to fetch some underwear and toiletries, right? I can't
possibly go all week without clean underwear."
"I have underwear you could use," Denise said, seriously.
"Uh..." I stared, thinking that Denise couldn't possibly mean what I
thought she meant... You have men's briefs...?"
"No, silly. *My* underwear. I've got tons of underwear I never use, you
can help yourself!"
My heart lurched in my chest. "But... but..." I said, "surely you don't
mean that I would wear your... your..."
"Panties? Well, why not? We're the same size... okay, maybe you're a tad
shorter than I am. Is there a problem with wearing my _panties_?"
"It's just that I don't think..."
"What a wonderful idea!" Mrs. Roberts said, interrupting. "That settles
it."
"You're both being very nice about this," I stammered, trying to back
out of the situation gracefully, "I just don't..."
"They're just panties," Denise said, her eyes wide and innocent. "And
then you don't have to drive home and we can get started right away.
That's all I want... uh... you know. To get started on studying."
"Our need for your services is urgent," added Mrs. Roberts. "Denise's
entrance exams are next week. If you leave, I cannot guarantee that the
position will still be available when you return. Even tomorrow."
I looked back and forth between mother and daughter, both of them
glowing with excitement, Mrs. Roberts with a knowing smile on her face.
My eyes drifted down to her ample bosoms, where they lingered for a
moment. Blushing, I quickly looked away.
"I... I guess it would be alright," I said, giving in. "Okay, I'll
stay."
"Awesome!" Denise cried out. "I just know we'll become best friends!
Come! Let's pick out a pair for you to wear right now."
"What?? I don't need to change my underwear right now," I said, shocked.
"Can't this wait?"
"I don't want you chickening out later," Denise responded. "Besides, I
love the idea of you wearing my panties! I can't wait to find you the
perfect pair!"
"You kids have fun!" Mrs. Roberts called after us, as Denise pulled me
from the drawing room.
* * *
Denise's bedroom was typical for a rich, teenage girl. The walls were
covered with posters of boy bands and women's professional soccer teams.
The plush carpeting, enormous hardwood furniture, and elegant canopy bed
gave proof to her position as a privileged daughter of a wealthy family.
I stopped at the entrance, not knowing what to do. I had never been
taken to the bedroom of a student before.
"I have all kinds of lingerie," Denise giggled, pushing me into the room
from behind and steering me to the dresser drawers. "You know... bras,
slips, stockings... "But I suppose all you'll need for now is just a
simple pair of panties? Not that you're not welcome to wear anything I
have, of course! Feel free to root around and take anything you want!
You just have to promise to wear them and show me."
"Are... are you sure about this, Denise?" I stammered. "I don't want to
put you to any trouble."
"Oh no trouble at all!" She said, excitedly. "Since my sisters left for
college, I _never_ get to share my panties with anyone, and I have so
many pretty ones!" Denise began to sift through the mounds of frilly
underwear. "Don't I have just tons and tons of pretty panties??"
Denise opened the top drawer which was literally stuffed to overflowing
with lingerie. Clearly her mother had been *very* generous with her
youngest daughter.
"Gosh," I said amazed, my eyes round as saucers. "You're right. That's a
lot of panties."
"I know! And I never get to wear half of them! Not that it matters,
because I never get to show them off to anyone. It's so sad, don't you
agree?"
"I... I guess so."
"It is, isn't it? But now I have you!"
"Me?" I squeaked.
"Yes you!" Denise put an arm around my waist, holding me to her warm
young body. "I can dress you up in my pretty panties so finally all of
these pretty things will get worn!"
"Oh Denise," I said, trying to back away, "Dress up? As much as I--" I
stopped short.
"As much as you what?"
"Never mind. Here, just get me something simple, and that will be fine."
"No, you can't wriggle out of this one. You were about to say, 'as much
as I want to.' Weren't you? You *want* me to dress you up in frilly
panties, don't you! Admit it!"
"That's not what I was going to say at all," I said, blushing bright
red. My mind raced to think of a plausible lie. "As much as I... uh...
as much as I think you're being very sweet. That's all I was going to
say."
"Pfft. Bullshit." Denise looked me straight in the eye. "Come on," she
said, suddenly serious. Admit it. You *want* me to dress you up in
frilly panties. Don't you? Come on, fess up!"
"Now listen," I said, trying to be reasonable, "even if that was what I
was going to say - and I'm not saying it was! - it's completely improper
for me to be discussing these things with you at all! Tutors and
students, we have to maintain a certain distance."
"Oh, phooey on that! Let me check with Mom." Denise pulled out her cell-
phone and speed-dialed her mother.
"Denise - I don't t think..."
"Mom? Is it okay for me to dress up Mr. Clarke in _frilly panties_?"
Denise put her mobile on speakerphone.
"Why, sweetie, whatever panties you want for him to wear would be just
fine with me," Mrs. Roberts responded. "I think some frilly panties
would be just _lovely_."
"See!?" Denise said. "_Mom_ says it's okay!"
I stood there, dumbfounded.
"But Mrs. Roberts," I said into the cell-phone speakerphone, "I just
thought... well, that this sort of thing wouldn't be proper. You know,
between a tutor and his charge."
"Oh, it's just a pair of panties," responded Mrs. Roberts. "And you'll
be changing behind a screen, won't he, Denise?"
"Why of course!" Denise looked at me, her eyes full of mischief. "You
weren't thinking of changing right here in front of me, _were you_ Mr.
Clarke???"
"Uh no! Of course not!!"
"Well, I hope not!" said Mrs. Roberts. "After all, that would be very
naughty behavior, wouldn't it, Denise?"
"Oh yes!" said Denise, looking at me slyly. "So _very_ naughty! And you
wouldn't want to have to experience what Mother does to naughty girls,
let me tell you!"
"And I'm sure she won't," Mrs. Roberts said, seemingly confusing her
pronouns. "Denise, honey? Would you hand your phone to Mr. Clarke? I'd
like to talk to him in private. Okay, sweetie?"
"Sure, Mom."
Denise turned off the speakerphone and handed it to me.
"Yes, Mrs. Roberts?"
"Oh, Mr. Clarke, I can't tell you how _thrilled_ I am that you and
Denise are getting along so well!"
"Oh... uh..."
"You know, she is really such a shy girl..."
"Shy?" I sputtered in disbelief.
"Yes, you have no idea how hard I have to work to build her self-esteem!
But with you, well I can't believe that she's so excited to be studying!
I don't know what you've done to bring her out of her shell like this,
but whatever it is, just keep doing it!"
"Oh, gosh... Well, okay, Mrs. Roberts. I'll... uh... do what I can."
"Of course you will! Just follow her lead - and I'm sure that you two
will just have the best possible relationship and she'll learn so much
from you! Okay then, have fun wearing her frilly panties! Bye!"
"Okay. Bye."
I hung up the phone and looked at Denise, who smiled from ear to ear.
"I _told_ you it would be okay," she said. "Now, how about this one?"
Denise held out something impossibly small. It was nylon in bright neon
blue with about two inches of lace at the waist.
"Oh, I don't know..."
"Is that a no? Okay, that's fine. I can find something else."
"Denise, can I just have a simple pair of cotton briefs?"
"Oh please," she rolled her eyes. "You obviously don't get the whole
concept of 'dress up', do you? Now here. How about this one?"
She held out a black high-waisted panty with polka dots and a ruffled
edge around the leg.
"Oh, heavens no," I said, shuddering at the thought of wearing something
so feminine all day.
The next set she pulled out was a boy short covered from top to bottom
with rows and rows of sumptuous lace.
I gulped. I so *wanted* to wear those. I felt tingles dart across my
skin.
"Tempted?" Denise said, coyly.
"No!" I blurted out, too loudly. "I couldn't possibly wear those."
"Are you sure?" Denise held up the panties, teasing me with them.
"Uh..."
"Here, why don't you try them on?" She placed them in my hand, the soft
lace causing flutters in my stomach.
"Please..." I whimpered, as Denise pushed me over to a screen at one
side of the bedroom.
"Oh, you'll be fine. Go ahead. I won't peek. Much."
Safely behind the screen, I removed my pants and boxers, and then,
taking a deep breath, slipped the panties on.
Oh....
A tingle slowly washed over me. The feeling was captivating, and opened
up many long-suppressed feelings and memories. I took a moment to just
try and control my breathing.
"They look great!" Denise said, looking at me from around the screen.
"Hey!!!" I shouted, desperately trying to cover up. "Get out of here!
You can't see me like this!"
"Okay, fine, but I'm taking these with me!" she said, grabbing my boxers
and running away.
"Stop that!" I shouted, frantically grabbing my pants and pulling them
on. "I'll need those later!"
I stumbled out from behind the screen only to see her brandishing a pair
of scissors.
"Oops!" she said, grinning wickedly, as my boxers fell in ribbons to the
floor.
"Did you... are those my...?" I asked, incredulously.
"Now you'll have to wear my frilly panties all week long!" she said.
"Your boxers were so ugly anyway. You should thank me for doing you a
favor!"
* * *
Chapter 2:
"How's the studying going?" Mrs. Roberts asked.
"Quite well," I said.
As it turns out, for all her silliness, Denise was a ready and attentive
pupil, eagerly soaking up test taking strategies and word lists.
"Mr. Clarke is _perfect_ for me," said Denise, smiling.
"Wonderful!" said Mrs. Roberts. "You know, I had a feeling that this
would work out. Mr. Clarke, I think you deserve a hug for being such a
_cooperative and willing_ teacher."
Have I mentioned her bosoms? Mrs. Roberts was blessed with an absolutely
enormous chest, at least size G or larger and squeezed and plumped into
two enormous mounds which thrust straight out with authority. And as she
hugged me (or maybe I imagined it?) it seemed like she turned my head so
that I was pressed directly into her ample cleavage, her torpedoes
massaging my face between them.
"Mr. Clarke?" Mrs. Roberts asked, gently.
"Yes?" I asked, through a foggy haze.
"Where are your keys and wallet? I'd like to put them into our wall
safe. Would that be okay? I would feel terrible if they went missing."
"Uh... Do you really feel that's necessary?"
Mrs. Roberts ran her fingers lightly through my hair.
"I would feel just terrible if anything happened to your valuables," she
responded, rocking her shoulders back and forth, holding my head even
more firmly to her ample bosoms. "Do you mind? Maybe it's just silly of
me..."
"No, no... I understand," I mumbled, not thinking clearly. "If you think
it's for the best. Sure. Okay."
"Oh thank you. I just knew you would understand and obey. Could I have
them now?"
Mrs. Roberts disengaged me from her cleavage and held out her hand. I
looked at her in shock.
"Now?" I asked.
"Of course now," she said, her eyes glittering.
I reached for my wallet and dug the keys out of my pants pocket.
"Uh..." I said, hesitantly handing them over. "But how will I... I mean,
what if I need to get into my car at some point?"
"Just ask," said Mrs. Roberts smiled, hiding my effects somewhere deep
in the folds of her dress, "and I'll supply you with whatever you need."
"Oh. Okay..." I said, uncertainly, trying to parse her statement. She
didn't actually say she would return my things when I asked, but surely
that's what she must have meant?
"Mom?" Denise broke in, "Mom?? You should see Mr. Clarke's panties!
They're so darling!!"
"Denise!" I exclaimed, shocked.
"Really??" asked Mrs. Roberts, interested. "Well, why don't you show
them to me, Miss Clarke?"
Wait a second, had she called me 'miss'??
"Yay, lets show Mom!" Denise said, jumping up and pulling me to my feet.
"Mrs. Roberts?" I stammered, "Is this right? I mean... I'm Denise's
tutor and..."
"Miss Clarke?? I'm not asking you to expose yourself to me."
"What? No, I mean..."
"Is that what you were thinking? Oh, you are such a naughty girl! I'm
afraid that I'm going to have to give you 2 demerits just for suggesting
such a thing."
"Two demerits?" I sputtered. "But..."
"No, all I was suggesting is that you take down your pants so I can see
your panties. Not remove them entirely."
I stared at her, speechless.
"Now Miss Clarke," Mrs. Roberts said, in warning, "Things are going so
well, if Denise wants you to show me your panties, then I think you
should show me your panties, don't you?"
"But..."
"That's another 2 demerits, I'm afraid. Denise? I think our Miss Clarke
needs some encouragement. Could you hold her hands for me?"
Grinning, Denise grasped my hands and held them behind my back.
"There we go. Now let's just see here," Mrs. Roberts unbuckled my belt
and unzipped my pants, the fingernails of her fingers lightly stroking
across my crotch as she did so.
"Noooo..." I moaned.
"Shush now. It's no different than wearing a swimsuit at the beach.
Honestly, I don't know what all the fuss is about. Denise? You are
absolutely right! These panties are absolutely _adorable_. Do you like
wearing such frilly things, Miss Clarke?"
"He does!" Denise answered for me. "He admitted it to me."
"I did not!" I said, incensed.
"Contradicting my daughter," Mrs. Roberts tutted. "That's another 2
demerits, I'm afraid, Miss Clarke. Now let me ask you again... do you
like wearing such frilly things?"
I struggled, but Denise held me tight. I looked from mother to daughter,
trying to figure out what I was supposed to say.
"It's okay to admit it," Mrs. Roberts said, stroking her fingers lightly
across the rows and rows of lacy ruffles. "After all, they're beautiful,
aren't they? And who wouldn't just _love_ to wear such frilly, beautiful
things? Am I right?"
"I..."
"Denise has already told me the answer, Miss Clarke. And, house rules:
no one is allowed to correct my daughter other than me. Do you
understand? So let me ask you again, don't you just love wearing frilly,
pretty things like these panties?"
I hung my head and closed my eyes.
"Just tell me the truth," Mrs. Roberts gently prompted.
"I do," I admitted, my heart sinking as I admitted it. What have I done?
I felt some of my power shifting into Mrs. Roberts' capable control.
"There, now was that so hard? In this house, I demand absolute honesty
from everyone. That's another house rule. Well now that you've admitted
that you just love wearing pretty, frilly, feminine things, I'm sure
we'll be able to find you lots more of them to wear, won't we, Denise?"
"Oh, absolutely!" she said, grinning from ear to ear.
"Now," Mrs. Roberts said, covering me back up, "I', sure there's more
studying to do before dinner, isn't there?"
* * *
Chapter 3:
"Mrs. Roberts, why are you calling me 'Miss Clarke'? After all, I'm a
Mister, not a Miss."
I was helping Mrs. Roberts to prepare dinner and set the table to help
work off my demerits. Denise pouted when I was given the assignment -
she had apparently been looking forward to a more severe form of
punishment. But, thankfully! Mrs. Roberts took my side and said all I
had to do was help in the Kitchen that evening.
"Am I?" Mrs. Roberts looked at me with surprise. "Oh my goodness! I'm so
sorry! It's just that Denise's previous tutor also had the last name of
Clarke - Pamela Clarke was her name - and I guess I just naturally
started calling you Miss Clarke. I apologize."
"Oh, no problem."
"No problem? Do you mean that you *want* me to call you Miss Clarke?"
"No! Of course not..."
"Oh, so you meant that you didn't mind me calling you Miss Clarke when I
did before? When you said 'no problem'? You meant that you would respond
without problem to Miss Clarke if that's what I wanted to call you, was
that what you meant?"
"Uh..." I struggled. "Right, that's it."
"Oh thank you, you are such a dear," Mrs. Roberts gave me a quick hug.
"I'm just so used to calling the tutor 'Miss Clarke', that it may be
difficult for me to change. I'll be sure to tell Denise as well that you
don't mind being called 'Miss Clarke', I'm sure that will be easier for
her too."
"But..."
"Yes, Miss Clarke?"
I was flustered, trying to think of what to say. I had never meant to
agree to being called Miss Clarke *all* the time! I had just wanted to
say that I forgave her prior lapses.
"Mrs. Roberts..." I began, "I..."
I stumbled, not knowing how to phrase my objections.
"Miss Clarke?" She asked again, quizzically, oblivious to my internal
struggles.
"What can I do to help next?" I mumbled softly, my shoulders sagging as
I gave up.
"Why, aren't you just so helpful? Well, we need to stir the soup, but
you'll need an apron so we don't get your clothes all dirty. Here, you
can use this one."
Mrs. Roberts pulled out a white Victorian maid's apron, trimmed in lace.
"It's been in the family for ages. You should be honored to wear it,"
she said, as she pulled it over my head and tied it behind me in a big
bow. "And here, you should wear this cap so that your hair doesn't
accidentally get in the food."
"Oh, I don't think..." I sputtered.
"No, no. I insist. It is a hygienic requirement," Mrs. Roberts said,
pulling my hair back and placing a frilly maid's cap on top. My hair was
a bit long (a typical graduate student, I hadn't cut it all year), so
she had no trouble tying it off in back.
"Perfect! Now we're almost ready, just stir the soup, and then you can
help serve."
After a flurry of activity, Mrs. Roberts and I had arranged all of the
food on the kitchen counter, everything all set to be taken out to the
dining room.
"There! All set to go. Now, Miss Clarke..."
"Yes, Mrs. Roberts?"
"You know, you can call me Ma'am, if you prefer," she said, in a tone
which was more of a command than a request.
"Ma'am?"
"Yes, Ma'am, as in 'ham'. Would that be more comfortable for you?"
"Uh..."
"Because I would perfectly understand if that were the case. Mrs.
Roberts is rather a mouthful. And besides, I imagine that you're
thinking that Ma'am is more appropriate, all things considered?"
"Appropriate?" I asked. Wondering what she meant by that.
"Yes, appropriate."
"Uh... sure, Ma'am. That would be fine."
"Very good. Now, I'm going to go out and sit down, so I can enjoy the
meal with Denise. When you hear the bell, you can start serving us
dinner. Do you understand?"
"Oh," I looked confused. "Serving you? I thought... uh..."
"Now Miss Clarke, you still have demerits to work off," Mrs. Roberts
said in warning.
"Yes Ma'am," I responded.
"That's a good girl."
I stood waiting by the food, shifting from foot to foot, listening in
vain to the soft conversation in the dining room. After a few minutes, I
heard the tinkle of the bell.
"Oh, Mr. Clarke!" Denise exclaimed as I server her soup. "I love your
apron and cap!"
I blushed to the core when I heard this.
"Now Denise, let's not tease the poor dear. After all, she's doing this
nice thing for us to work off her demerits and she should be thanked."
"I'm sorry, mother," Denise said, contritely.
"And she has also graciously consented to being called Miss Clarke."
"Miss Clarke?" Denise asked, delighted.
Hearing Denise use the word 'Miss' caused my stomach to turn in knots.
"Isn't that right, Miss Clarke?" Mrs. Roberts asked.
"Yes, Ma'am," I said softly, my face turning bright hot red in
embarrassment.
"Ma'am?" Denise asked quizzically.
"Yes, Miss Clarke felt she would be more comfortable calling me Ma'am
rather than Mrs. Roberts. I presume she felt that way because of the
difference in our station in life... that calling me Ma'am felt more
appropriate to her position within the household. Was the reason you
felt the need to call me Ma'am, Miss Clarke?"
"Well..." I started.
"Does that mean you would feel more comfortable calling me 'Miss
Denise'?"
I looked up with shock at my student, who was wearing a wide,
mischievous smile.
"I..."
"Well certainly! If it makes you more comfortable to say 'Miss Denise'
instead of Denise, I think that would be most proper," said Mrs.
Roberts.
Holding the soup, wearing my apron and cap, I couldn't think of what to
say. I felt like I was being swept along by the mistaken opinions of
these two strong willed women, to what destination I couldn't imagine.
Miss Denise got up from her chair and gave me a gentle hug.
"Are you okay, Miss Clarke?" she asked, softly with a gentle, friendly
smile.
"Yes... Miss Denise," I said finally, feeling my stomach flip-flopping
yet again as I tacitly admitted to all of their assertions about my
character. "I'm fine. You..." I looked at Mrs. Roberts who smiled
encouragingly at me, "you just enjoy your soup and call me when you are
ready for the next course."
* * *
Chapter 4:
"It's right next to Denise's bedroom," said Mrs. Roberts, showing me
into the guest bedroom, which was small but nicely furnished. "In fact,
when the house was first built, this room would have been occupied by
the lady's maid for whoever slept next door. In fact, you can still see
the bell near the ceiling there. The pull is in Denise's room. Isn't
that interesting?"
"Yes, Ma'am," I agreed.
Mrs. Roberts let me over to the bed and sat me down. She placed a hand
on my thigh and gently stroked it. A shiver ran through me.
"I want to thank you again for being such a wonderful tutor for Denise,
and such a gracious guest," she said. "I know that, well, this household
can be somewhat... ahh... eccentric at times. And you've just been
wonderfully accepting of all our little quirks."
"Oh, well, it's been a pleasure, Ma'am."
"Really? A pleasure?"
"Yes, of course."
"I hope you weren't just being nice. Because it would be quite wonderful
if you really felt that way. Has this situation really been a pleasure
for you? Has the way that Denise and I have... the way that we've been
treating you... is that really pleasurable for you?"
"Oh, actually, I meant..."
Mrs. Roberts shifted closer to me, her womanly fragrance enveloping me.
"Has it really been a pleasure for you?" she asked again, stroking my
back and squeezing my leg.
"Yes," I said, in a hoarse whisper. "Yes, it has."
"I'm so glad you said that. May I kiss you?"
"Kiss me? Ma'am?" I asked, startled.
Mrs. Roberts turned towards me causing her robe to gap open. She had
already changed for bed and I could see her ample bosoms gently cupped
by the delicate silky fabric of her nightgown.
I looked up, my heart pounding, noticing for the first time how
sensuous her lips were.
"Yes, kiss you - for being such a gracious a guest - I just feel like
kissing you, but I thought I should ask first."
I gulped. The butterflies in my stomach turned into a swarm. Tingles ran
over my skin.
"Uh..." I hesitated. Something about the intimacy of the moment drew me
in. "That... that would be nice."
"Oh, I'm so glad," she said, leaning in, placing a hand gently on the
back of my neck, and pulling our lips together.
I melted. Mrs. Roberts' femininity was so overwhelming that I couldn't
help but lose myself in her arms, meekly accepting the kiss from this
domineering female head of the household.
"You are so delicious," she said, breaking the kiss. "I just knew when I
first saw you that you would be perfect."
"Oh, well, Ma'am," I sighed, "how could I refuse such a beautiful
woman?"
"Oh, you charmer! But seriously, most employees would have said it was
sexual harassment, or some such nonsense. But I'm so glad that's not
ever going to be a problem with you, now will it?"
"Harassment? No, of course not!"
"Good. It's so nice to have an employee for whom physical boundaries are
not an issue. An employee who is willing to give up herself completely
to the needs of her employer."
"Well... ah..."
"Shhhhh..." she placed a finger on my lips. "I will not demand anything
more from you tonight. But now, before you can go to bed, we'll need to
get you properly dressed."
"Dressed?"
"Yes, of course, in sleepwear for bedtime, of course. Now since you
don't have proper pajamas with you, and since you admitted to Denise
earlier how much you love wearing pretty, feminine, things..."
Mrs. Roberts got up and walked over to the closet.
"But Ma'am, that's not exactly..."
"... and so, I have this for you," she reached into the closet and
pulled out a sumptuous, long nightgown, made of a light-as-air shimmery
fabric, with rows of lace embroidery across the chest and long, soft
pleats which went all the way to the ground.
"I hope you like it," she said. "I took extra care to pick the softest,
most feminine, and frilly nightgown I could find for you. Don't you love
it?"
"Oh, gosh... I..."
"Oh, of course you do," she said with a knowing smile. "Anyone who loves
soft feminine, frilly things like you do would love it. Now, let's get
you undressed..."
"Ma'am?" I squeaked.
"Oh, pfft," she said, laying the nightgown on the bed and reaching to
unbutton my shirt. "I was married for 12 years before my husband, god
rest his soul, departed this mortal coil. So believe me, I've seen it
all. No need to protect me or my modesty, Miss Clarke. So, here, let me
help you."
"But, Ma'am, it's not you that I'm..."
"Shhh..." she said, pulling off my shirt and reaching my pants. "I told
you, no need to worry about me, although you are such a dear to be
concerned."
Despite my best efforts, she soon had me stripped down to my panties.
"Now, here, let's put this on..."
"No, please..."
The nightgown floated over me, the gentle fabric caressing and sliding
down my body as it went, causing tingles everywhere it touched. I
struggled for a minute but was eventually able to get my arms properly
threaded through the long sleeves.
"Oh, now look at you!" she enthused. "It's perfect. I hope you
appreciate all of the effort I went through to get you the perfect
nightgown."
What was I going to say? I hadn't meant to be forced to dress in a
lady's nightgown before going to bed.
"Miss Clarke," she repeated, this time with a hint of warning. "I hope
you appreciate all of the effort I went through to find this perfect
nightgown for you."
I looked into her eyes, seeing no room for compromise.
"Of course, Ma'am," I said, demurely, "Thank you so much for taking the
time to find this perfect nightgown for me."
"That's my girl," she said gently cupping my cheek in her hand and
giving me a peck on the lips. "And isn't it just the most beautiful,
luscious, romantic nightgown you've ever seen?"
"Yes Ma'am," I responded honestly. "It is. It's beautiful."
"And isn't this lace trim just so delicious, frilly, and feminine?"
"Yes, Ma'am." I knew where this was headed, but felt powerless to change
direction, as Mrs. Roberts relentlessly dragged me further down the
path.
"And doesn't it feel wonderful, all of this whisper soft fabric
cascading down your body? Doesn't that feel like the most wonderful
feeling in the world?"
"I... I..."
As I tried to respond, Mrs. Roberts gently ran her fingers down the
folds of the nightgown as they ran the length of my body, causing me to
suck in my breath with pleasure.
"Yes Ma'am," I finally gasped, and then looked at her with watery eyes.
"Yes... that is just the most wonderful feeling in the world," I sighed.
"I just knew you'd love it," she smiled back at me, triumphant. "I just
knew it. Now let's go show Denise!"
"What? Wait!" I squealed, as Mrs. Roberts grasped me firmly by the hand
and dragged me to Miss Denise's room next door.
"Denise! Look at Miss Clarke, isn't she just so delicious?"
"Oh, Miss Clarke!" Miss Denise jumped up from her bed where she had been
lounging in silk pajamas. She enveloped me in a big hug, our silken
bodies rubbing together. "I just love how it looks on you! It's like it
was just made to be worn by you."
Wrapped in her arms, all I could do is agree, and enjoy the closeness of
her body.
"But there's one thing missing..." she said.
"What?" Mrs. Roberts asked.
"It doesn't hang right. It needs..." Miss Denise put her hands on my
chest, "well... it needs breasts."
Miss Denise lightly rubbed her fingers across my nipples, emphasizing
her point, causing me to suck in my breath as tingles threatened to
overtake me,
"The shape is not right," she continued. "It's good, but you're missing
a female chest. Preferably a really big one, under that fabric. Then it
will be perfect. It will be delicious."
"Well I'm afraid there's nothing we can do about that now," said Mrs.
Roberts. "It is time for all of us to go to bed! We're all going to have
a very long day tomorrow, I'm absolutely certain."
"But I need someone to brush my hair first," Miss Denise whined.
"Well..." Mrs. Roberts said, "if you ask Miss Clarke nicely... maybe
she'll brush out your hair for you."
Miss Denise looked at me with doe-like eyes. "Miss Clarke?" she asked,
giving me a quick peck on the cheek. "Would you brush out my hair?
Pretty please?"
"Uh..." I looked from mother to daughter. Somehow I had become
sandwiched between their soft, warm bodies. "Uh... of course, Miss
Denise. It... It would be an honor," I said.
"Oh, yay!" Miss Denise said. "Here, let's sit in bed and we can talk
'girl-talk' while you _'have the honor'_ of brushing my hair."
"Perfect! You kids have fun," said Mrs. Roberts, as she left the two of
us together.
And so I fetched a hairbrush from the dresser and joined Miss Denise on
the bed. As I brushed her hair she chatted on about articles she had
read in Cosmo about makeup celebrities she liked, occasionally showing
me pictures and asking my opinion.
Eventually she indicated that I was done, and with a yawn, slipped under
the covers.
"Thank you, Miss Clarke," she said, sleepily.
"You're welcome, Miss Denise," I responded, getting up and walking
softly to the door.
"Oh, Miss Clarke?" Miss Denise asked, innocently.
"Yes?"
"I left my dirty clothes for the day over there on the chair. Would you
mind terribly picking them up and taking them to the laundry room?"
"Pick up your dirty clothes?" I asked, not sure I heard her correctly.
"Yes, over there. Mother gets upset if I don't do it every day, but I
just haven't had the time! Do you mind? Would it be okay?"
"I..." What was happening here? I was her tutor - not her maid! I
shouldn't have to pick up her dirty laundry. That was so far outside my
job description it didn't even fall in the same universe.
"Pretty please?" Miss Denise looked up at me with her innocent, half-
asleep eyes, looking so sweet that I just melted.
"Yes, of course, Miss Denise," I said, gathering up her soiled garments.
There must have been three outfits whole outfits. Did she really wear
all of these today?
Miss Denise was sound asleep and snoring softly by the time I turned off
the light and gently closed her door behind me.
* * *
I found the laundry room at the end of the hall. Like the rest of the
house, it was huge (for a laundry room), with two washing machines, two
dryers, storage closets, a folding table, and hatch on the wall labeled
"TRASH".
I placed Miss Denise's soiled things on a washing machine, and then, for
some reason - I have no idea what came over me - but just then I buried
my face in them and breathed in deep.
I think back on it now, and I can't imagine why I did it, or what I was
thinking. I suppose I wasn't really thinking at all. I had just placed
an armful of feminine finery before me, and for some reason I wanted to
experience what it smelled like. And it would have been okay, except...
"Miss Clarke!!" Mrs. Roberts exclaimed, more surprised than angry. "What
are you doing?"
I jumped as if electrocuted. "Mrs. Roberts! I mean... Ma'am! I... I..."
"Oh, you don't have to explain, Miss Clarke, I can see what's happening
here."
Mrs. Roberts came into the room and put down a bundle of her own
clothes.
"You can?"
"Yes, of course! It's quite obvious you have fallen under my daughter's
spell, haven't you?"
"I... no wait... what?"
"Of course you have, and who wouldn't? After all, isn't she just the
most amazing young person you've ever met?"
"Yes, of course, Ma'am, she is" I quickly agreed, hoping to steer the
conversation away from my sniffing her daughter's soiled lingerie.
"I know, I know! She's so smart and personable; I'm just absolutely
certain she's going to be deluged by admirers, like you, once she gets
into the wider world."
"Yes, Ma'am, I would expect so."
"Exactly! And that's why it will be _so_ important to have loyal and
self-sacrificing people like you to serve her."
Loyal and self-sacrificing? "Gosh, Ma'am... thank you..." I said,
hesitantly, "But honestly, that's a lot to say about a one-week tutoring
job."
"Of course, dear. Of course. I guess I just got carried away, but it so
warms my heart to see devoted and selfless people like you serving my
daughter to the best of their abilities. After all, that's how great
people are made, don't you agree? Not just from their works, but by
those around them."
"Yes Ma'am," I said, not really knowing what she was going on about, or
why.
"Would you like to take some of her things to bed with you?"
"What?? Oh, no! Ma'am. No. Certainly not."
"Oh, don't worry. I know you're only objecting because you're afraid
she'd find out, but honestly. It will be our secret. I promise I won't
tell."
"No, Ma'am, that's not..."
"Now here, how about this cute little blouse, and a bra, a pair of
panties - _of course_ - and a pair of socks. That should have lots of
her smell on them."
"No, really, Ma'am, I don't think..."
"Shhhhhh... Don't worry! I told you, I promise to keep it a secret. No
one will ever know. Now don't argue, I won't take 'no' for an answer.
Let's just get you to bed. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."
And with that, Mrs. Roberts put the selected items into my arms and led
me back to my room.
"Now here we are, slip into bed and let me tuck you in. That's a good
girl. Now I'll place these things of Denise's on your pillow, right
here, so that you'll have her scent close to you all night long."
Mrs. Roberts looked at me, expectantly.
"Oh!" I said, finally realizing what she wanted. "Thank you, Ma'am."
"You are so welcome. Now there, all snug. Now I'm setting your alarm for
6am. Since you still have some demerits to work off, I'll want you to
get up when the alarm goes off and follow the instructions on the
kitchen counter to make breakfast. Then come wake up Denise and me. Will
you be able to manage all of that on your own?"
"Uh, yes.... I think so, ma'am."
"Very good. Miss Clarke, I can't thank you enough for being such a
wonderful, pliable, obedient girl. And now that I know how devoted
you've become to my darling Denise, well I'm positive we're going to get
along just splendidly."
And with that, Mrs. Roberts turned out the lights and shut the door
behind her, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
How the hell did I get into this position?
Everything I said and did just seemed to get me deeper and deeper into
trouble. There I was, dressed in a long, silky nylon and lace nightgown
with ruffled panties, my head on a pillow drenched in the female smells
of the young woman in the next room, and committed to serving them
breakfast tomorrow morning.
Wasn't I supposed to be a tutor?
Somehow, things had strayed way beyond the standard tutor / student
relationship.
Why hadn't I stood up for myself when Mrs. Roberts was handing out
demerits? After all, it was just a simple misunderstanding - that
shouldn't have been a cause for punishment.
And they were taking all of those liberties with my person - pulling
down my pants to see my panties, and then undressing me, and then
forcing me to wear this lovely, sumptuous nightgown... and kissing me...
Of course, I had consented to being kissed. And Mrs. Roberts... her lips
were so warm and wet... And then her bosoms...
Oh, I'm just so confused!
And Miss Denise! Picking out those frilly panties for me and then going
and cutting up my regular underwear! The nerve of her!
Of course, brushing her hair... that had been really nice. The feel of
her silky smooth hair under my fingers was... so wonderful.
But then I had to pick up all her dirty clothes! What was that about?
That was definitely beyond the pale. And oh - why did I get caught
smelling Miss Denise's dirty panties??
I blushed down to my toes when I remember that.
But then, what were all those statements Mrs. Roberts made about me
being 'pliable', 'devoted', and 'obedient'? And then she practically
forced me to take some of Miss Denise's dirty things to bed with me,
which were now right here, on my pillow. I nestled into the pillow some
more, letting her female smells fill my world.
Oh!
I had just enough time to fling off the covers and pull up the nightgown
before my penis erupted with jets of pleasure that caused my entire body
to squirm uncontrollably.
Where the hell did that come from?
The nightgown was spared, thank goodness, but unfortunately the panties
got hit pretty bad. I used Miss Denise's dirty T-Shirt to clean it up as
best I could, before falling asleep to dreams of soft fabrics and curvy
female bodies.
* * *
Chapter 5:
I actually woke up before the alarm the next morning, a habit of mine.
Gathering up Miss Denise's dirty things from my pillow I rushed to the
laundry room, added them to the pile of dirty clothes I had gathered up
yesterday and started a load of colored clothes, including the T-shirt
which was now grotesquely stained with my accident from the night
before.
Running back to my room, I came up short. Where the hell were my
clothes?
I opened up all the dresser drawers and the large walk-in closet but
couldn't find them. Crap! It was already 6:20, so I just put on a robe
(praying that would be okay) and rushed downstairs to the kitchen.
Fortunately, the instructions for breakfast were simple: a buffet with
bacon, yoghurt, cereal and fruit. It took me a while to find everything,
but it was all ready by 7am.
* * *
Mrs. Roberts was sound asleep when I opened the door to her bedroom.
Fortunately, her instructions were very clear, and so I took a deep
breath, walked over to her side, and gently shook her shoulder.
"Ma'am?" I asked softly. "It's time to get up. It's seven in the
morning."
"Oh, Miss Clarke," she said, sleepily, rolling over to face me, her bed
a mass of fabric, lace, bosoms, and tousled hair, "how nice to see you
this morning. Breakfast is ready, I trust?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Such an obedient girl. Now you go and wake up Denise, and I'll meet you
at the breakfast table."
* * *
"Hey," Miss Denise looked up at me with sleepy eyes. "Hi Miss Clarke!
Oh, if only I could have you wake me up like this every morning,
wouldn't that be wonderful?"
"That would be nice," I said.
"Really?" she asked. "Do you really want to do that? I mean, wake me up
each and every morning?"
"Oh, ah..."
How should I respond? I so wanted to say 'yes'. After all, Miss Denise
is a beautiful young woman, and seeing her in bed, sleeping in her silk
pajamas... well it caused me to feel certain things... things which I
probably shouldn't have been feeling.
"Oh, I know. You're just here as a tutor."
"Yes, Miss Denise," I said, relieved.
"I've got to pee. Could you find my robe? I've lost it and Mother hates
it when I wander through the house in just my PJ's."
I went to her closet, a huge walk-in closet jammed so full of clothes
they were wedged together. That couldn't be good for them, could it?
Giving up on the closet, I looked through the rest of her room, and
eventually found it behind the sofa in the 'sitting area' of the
bedroom.
So now what? Should I just lay the robe on the bed and leave?
Somehow, it hadn't felt like I'd been 'dismissed' by Miss Denise, so I
stood there, fretting about what to do, and aware that I was needed in
the kitchen. Finally, I decided to lay the robe on the bed, but the bed
was such a mess!
And so I made the bed.
Honestly, I really didn't think about it. I'm really good at making
beds. My mom had always taught me to be helpful and a 'good guest'
whenever I was staying in someone's house, and to help out whenever I
could. And further, I'm something of a neat freak, and so all those
things just came together.
"You made my bed???!" Miss Denise squealed, coming out of the bathroom
just as I finished up. "Oh my god! Thank you, thank you!!"
"Oh!" I said, startled. "Miss Denise! It was just that..."
"You are amazing!" she continued to gush. "Just amazing! Mother is
always getting on my case to make my bed - you don't know how much this
means to me!"
"It was nothing, I just..."
"It's so not just nothing! It's fabulous! That you would care for me so
much to help with things like this. You're the best! Just the best
ever!!"
And without even thinking about it, she gave me a big hug and kissed me
full on the lips.
"Mmmm!" I exclaimed in surprise, as Miss Denise continued the kiss. I
practically melted in her arms.
"Nice," Miss Denise said, pulling away, her eyes twinkling. "And I see
you found my robe!"
"Yes, Miss Denise. It was behind the sofa." I held it up.
"Clever Miss Clarke!" she said, smiling. Miss Denise put an arm into a
sleeve of the robe and then turned away from me.
What the hell...?
It took me a second, but then I realized: Miss Denise had assumed that I
was helping her dress!
Not knowing what to do, I just went ahead and helped her to put it fully
on.
"Did you enjoy brushing my hair last night?" Miss Denise asked,
coquettishly.
"Yes, Miss Denise," I admitted. "I did."
"Would you... do it again?" She batted her eyes at me.
"You mean... right now?"
"Yes, would mind terribly? Mother wants me to look 'well presented' for
breakfast. If I don't, I get demerits."
"You get demerits too?" I said, goggly eyed.
"Oh absolutely. Although it's been a while. So...?" Miss Denise motioned
to her hair.
"Okay."
And so Miss Denise dragged me over to her dressing table where she sat
down.
"Just a quick brush. Just to remove the tangles and make me look
presentable."
Her hair was long, well past her shoulders, and a gorgeous dirty-blonde
color, and so brushing it properly did take a few minutes.
"Excellent," she said, jumping up, turning towards me and holding out
her arms. "How do I look?"
"Beautiful," I said, sincerely. "But, uh... Miss Denise?" I ventured.
"Yes?"
"You might, ah... want to close your robe and tie the belt?"
Miss Denise looked down at her robe which was gapping open, but then
just looked back at me, with an air of expectation.
Oh shit, I realized.
She wants _me_ to close her robe and tie the belt for her. What the hell
is going on here?
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, I pulled her robe closed
and then tied the belt snuggly around her waist.
"You are _such_ a dear," she said, giving me another kiss on the lips,
this time gently squeezing my fanny. "Now let's get downstairs before
mother starts to wonder what the hell happened to us."
* * *
I heard the bell and then, "Miss Clarke?"
I quickly got up from my stool in the antechamber and walked into the
main dining room where Mrs. Roberts and Miss Denise were finishing
breakfast.
"Yes, Ma'am?"
"I'd like to ask you a question, dear. On my way down to breakfast, I
noticed that the washing machine was running a load of clothes.
Apparently you had started a load of laundry of Denise's things. Why?"
"I... I..."
Obviously I couldn't tell her that I had started a load to clean my cum
stains off of Miss Denise's T-shirt!
"I..." I stammered, trying to think up a good reason.
"Did you really think that Denise might need clean clothes to wear
today?"
"Well, I guess I just thought..."
"Oh, silly!" Denis said, giggling. "I have *tons and tons* of clothes!
Surely you didn't think I needed those cleaned for today, did you?"
"Well, I suppose not... now that you say it like that..."
"So then, it must have been just because you wanted to do something nice
for Miss Denise, is that it, Miss Clarke? So that Miss Denise would have
all her clothes clean and everything in order?"
I looked down at the ground and traced circles on it with my toes.
"Yes," I lied. "I guess that was it."
"See?" Mrs. Roberts said to her daughter. "I told you that Miss Clarke
was becoming quite attached to you."
"Oh, Miss Clarke!" Miss Denise jumped up and gave me yet another hug.
There's a lot of hugging in this family, I realized. Not that I was
complaining.
"Doing my dirty laundry just so I'd have clean clothes to wear," she
continued, "that's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me! And
that after you made my bed this morning!"
"She did _what_?" Mrs. Roberts exclaimed, her face showing true surprise
for the first time.
"Miss Clarke made my bed for me this morning," said Miss Denise with the
voice of a girl showing off her prized possession.
"Really?"
"*And* brushed my hair!"
"Well, I thought it looked better than usual. Miss Clarke, It seems that
you've become quite a devoted member of the household and to my
daughter.
"Thank you, Ma'am. I... uh... I guess I have."
"And so, I hope that you'll forgive her when she tells you something."
"Forgive her for what?"
"I... ah..." this time it was Miss Denise who was stuttering. I'm, so
sorry!" she blurted out, her eyes filling with tears. "I accidentally
threw your clothes down the trash chute!!" she sobbed.
"What??? How could you?" Conflicting emotions warred within me. Of
course I was pissed that Miss Denise had thrown my things away, but
confused and taken aback by her crying and obvious distress.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!" she wailed. "I... I... just wanted to do
something nice for you, and so I went to wash your clothes, but I've
never done laundry before - and I use the trash chute all the time - and
I was in a hurry, and I just made a mistake and threw your clothes down
the chute. When I realized what I had one, it was too late there was
nothing I could do! I'm so sorry!"
"But... can't we just go down to wherever the trash is gathered..."
"Actually, I'm afraid it's really an incinerator," said Mrs. Roberts.
"WHAT???"
"We had it installed last year. We're so far away from regular services
that it's cheaper to incinerate our trash if we can. I'm sorry, Miss
Clarke, but your clothes are gone."
"But then..." I suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed, "what will I
wear?"
"We will just have to figure something out. I'm afraid that we've
treated you very poorly. Of course I'll compensate you for your clothes,
just let me know how much they cost. Can you find it in your heart to
forgive us?"
Mrs. Roberts stood up and placed a hand to my cheek, and caressed it
gently. I looked up at her lips and remembered kissing them this
morning.
"Yes, please forgive us," Miss Denise said, still sniffling, her tears
soaking into my robe. "Please??"
"Okay," I said. "Of course. It was just an accident, right?"
"That's right..." Miss Denise replied, in a small voice.
"And they're just clothes. Like you said, Ma'am, I'm sure we can find
something appropriate for me to wear."
"Most definitely," said Mrs. Roberts. "We'll find something that's just
perfect for you."
* * *
"Oh dear, this is unexpected," said Mrs. Roberts, opening up the first
of her husband's old clothes. The three of us were in a large storage
closet on the third floor.
Instead of 'men's shirts', as was labeled on the outside of the box, it
contained what looked like a mass of satin, spandex, and straps.
"Mother, look!" said Miss Denise, pointing to the opposite side of the
box, which displayed the label 'Girdles and Shape wear'. "You must have
re-used the box and simply placed it on the shelf with the wrong side
out."
"Very good, Denise! That explains it. Well, let's keep looking, I'm
certain they're here somewhere."
But after pulling down and opening every single box in the closet,
including three others all (incorrectly) labeled has having men's
clothing, even I was forced to admit that Mr. Roberts' clothes had gone
missing.
"I'm sorry, Miss Clarke, but it seems that my husband's old clothes are
nowhere to be found. This closet was the only place they could have
been."
"But... but..." the world around me felt like it was tilting to one
side, "but then, what will I wear? Ma'am?"
Mrs. Roberts looked at me with pity.
"Well, it seems to me like there's not much choice, now is there? After
all, the only clothes, in this entire house, are _women's_ clothes, in
other words, clothes which belong to me or one of my three daughters."
"But that means..."
"That's right. You will have to wear woman's clothing for the duration
of your stay."
"No!" I sputtered. "I mean, can't... can't we have some clothes
delivered or something?"
"I don't think clothing stores make house calls."
"But couldn't we--"
"Are you saying that our clothes are not good enough for you to wear?"
"No Ma'am! Of course not."
"So then, are you saying that you don't appreciate that we are, quite
literally, giving you the clothes off our backs so that you can be
properly attired while in this household?"
"No, no. I mean, of course, I appreciate it! You've both been so
wonderful to me. It's just that..."
"Are you're worried that you won't look proper in women's clothing?"
"Yes!" I breathed a sigh of relief, finally having a good excuse. "Yes,
that's it exactly."
"You are such a dear! I understand now. You feel that if you were to
look like a man, dressed up in women's clothing, then that would be
improper. That is so thoughtful and generous of you to be concerned.
After all, you know how much I stress that everyone, at all times, must
be properly attired, correct?"
"Exactly... Ma'am. I... I just want to appropriately and properly
attired. I know how important that is to you."
"And you want to always 'look the part'. Is that right?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Well Miss Clarke," Mrs. Roberts said, with glee, "I am delighted that
you've decided to embrace my house rules with such enthusiasm! Of course
it will be extra work for all of us. Honestly, I'm quite surprised you
want to go to that extreme, but no matter. Denise and I will make
absolutely certain that you are properly attired for your position in
the household at all times! If you're concern is entirely that you'll
look ridiculous as a man in women's clothing, then Denise and I will
just have to make sure that you do *not* look ridiculous! We'll just
have to make sure that to the entire world, you look _just like a
woman_."
"No, wait," I stepped back, horrified.
"Oh, fabulous!!" Miss Denise said, jumping up. "Oh Miss Clarke, this
will be so much fun!!"
"But... but..." I sputtered, "I can't do that!"
"Why ever not, dear?"
"Because... well, I'm a man! I can't be caught wearing women's
clothing!"
"But I don't understand," Mrs. Roberts said, looking puzzled. "You just
told me how important it was for you to be _properly attired_ isn't that
right? How much you wanted to _look the part_."
"Well, yes, that is what I said..."
"And I can assure you that Denise and I just _love_ the idea, don't we
Denise?"
"Oh yes!!" her eyes beamed with delight.
"And we certainly won't think anything less of you, not at all! In fact,
you are doing _us_ such a favor, after all, it was Denise that
accidentally destroyed your clothes. The fact that you're being just so
ever agreeable - as I always knew you would be the minute I set eyes on
you - just goes to show what a gracious individual you are."
"You are!" Miss Denise added, with a wide grin which she just couldn't
seem to stop.
"But men are not supposed to wear women's clothing..." I whimpered,
shrinking under the onslaught.
Mrs. Roberts paused for a second before continuing.
"I think that what you mean is that men are not supposed to _want_ to
wear women's clothing, isn't that right?" Mrs. Roberts asked, softly.
My heart twisted up in my chest. I found myself backed up against the
shelves in the closet. A stray bit of polyester satin and lace brushed
against my cheek, where it had been dangling from a box on the shelf.
The smell of lingerie, fabric, and mothballs closed in around me.
Mrs. Roberts pulled a nylon and lace slip from of the box and handed it
to me. She then kissed me gently on the cheek, her mouth warm and wet.
"Admit it dear," she said. "This will all be so much easier if you just
be honest with yourself. You've already told us you like wearing pretty
things. And it will be so much easier for everyone if you just
acknowledge the truth."
"What truth?" I asked, my voice cracking. I held the slip against my
cheek, like a security blanket.
"Trust us," said Mrs. Roberts. "Denise and I will take good care of you,
won't we, Denise?"
"Oh yes," she said, seriously.
"And we will always, _always_ treat you with respect, and we will never,
_ever_ make fun of your or allow anyone else to make fun of you. Isn't
that right, Denise?"
"I would never, _ever_ let anyone say anything against my Miss Clarke!"
said Denise, defiantly. "Really, you are _such_ a dear to be so patient
with me, and so willing, and so... helpful all the time."
"I..."
"Yes?" Mrs. Roberts prompted.
My heart was thumping so hard I was afraid it would burst from my chest.
The butterflies in my stomach were so bad I was nauseous. My eyes misted
over.
"I..." a little sob escaped from my lips.
"Hush, it's okay. Go ahead and tell us."
I took a few deep breaths.
"Okay," I croaked.
The hint of a triumphant smile crossed Mrs. Roberts' face.
"Okay, what, dear?"
"Okay, Ma'am, I'll... uh... I will... I'll wear... Whatever you think is
best. Whatever you want me to wear."
"Or Denise?"
I looked at Miss Denise, who was smiling, mischievously.
I resigned myself to the worst. "Yes, Ma'am," I said, "Whatever you or
Miss Denise feels is best."
"But, Miss Clarke, we only have women's clothes in the house,
apparently. That means we'll have no choice but to dress you up in
women's clothing. Are you sure that is what you want?"
"Yes, Ma'am, that will be fine."
"Just fine?"
I gulped.
"No, Ma'am. More than just fine. That would be... very nice."
"So, you're saying that you _want_ to be dressed in women's clothing?"
Mrs. Roberts was ruthless!
"Yes... Yes, Ma'am. That's what I'm saying."
"That's not enough."
"Ma'am?" I asked, shocked.
"I need you to agree to let Denise and I take over full control of your
entire appearance. You must put yourself completely into our hands. That
is the only way that this will work."
"I know it's a lot to ask," said Miss Denise, squeezing my arm gently.
"But Mother is right. Everything will be wonderful, you'll see. We'll
take such good care of you."
Miss Denise let a hand drift down until it was lightly rubbing against
my bottom.
Mrs. Roberts unbuttoned my robe exposing the soft nightgown underneath.
Her fingers rubbed back and forth over my nipples.
"Let me help you," said Mrs. Roberts, lightly kissing me, on the lips
this time. "Miss Clarke, do you agree to let Denise and I take over full
control over your appearance?"
Was this what I really wanted?
"I think she needs a little more encouragement, Mother," said Miss
Denise. "How about this?"
Miss Denise undid her robe and let it drop to the floor. She then
unbuttoned her silk pajama top, exposing the swell of her gorgeous
cleavage.
"What an excellent idea, Denise," Mrs. Roberts said, following suit.
Underneath her robe was a sumptuous nightgown much like mine. She undid
the tie at the top and the neckline gapped open.
"Now let me ask you again, Miss Clarke," Mrs. Roberts said. "Do you
agree to let Denise and I take over full control of our appearance?"
She kissed me on the lips again and then looked me directly in the eyes.
"Yeeessss," I responded, feeling a sudden shiver run through my body.
What had I done?
"And do you agree to enthusiastically participate? To eagerly and
gratefully wear whatever we tell you to wear, and do whatever we tell
you to do?"
I took a few deep breaths.
"Yes," I agreed.
"Good girl," Miss Denise whispered.
"Very good, Miss Clarke. Now, just so we are all perfectly clear as to
what you've just agreed to, I want you to repeat it back to me. Can you
do that?"
"Uh... well, I agreed---"
"No, dear. _Ask us_. Ask us nicely. I'm sure you know what to do."
"Oh, uh... okay. Ma'am, would you... umm... please take over control of
my entire appearance?"
"For what purpose?"
"To... uh... help me dress appropriately... um..."
"Appropriate is good. But In what kind of clothes?"
"In women's clothing."
"But why do you need me to take complete control over your appearance?"
"Because... I mean... so I can look... so I won't..."
"Go on," she said, encouragingly. "You've almost got it."
"So that I won't look like a man in women's clothing."
"But if you don't look like a man in women's clothing, then what _would_
you look like?"
"A woman," I whispered.
"That's right," said Mrs. Roberts. "You want me to take over complete
and total control of your appearance so that you will look like a woman,
isn't that right?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"From head to toe. Right?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Inside and out, isn't that right?"
"Yes, Ma'am," I gulped. "Inside and out."
"Miss Clarke, I sincerely accept your request and will do my utmost to
do exactly as you've asked. But there's just one more thing I'm
missing."
"More? But what?"
"I need you to tell me that you want it."
"I..." I looked from Mrs. Roberts to Miss Denise and back. "I..."
"Miss Clarke?"
"Yes, Ma'am. I... I..."
I was stammering so hard I almost couldn't say it.
"I want it," I said finally, tears spring to my eyes.
"Want what?"
"I... I _want_ you to take over complete and total control of my
appearance so that I will look like a woman."
"How much do you want it?"
I looked up at her, pleading with her to stop this interrogation.
"Miss Clarke--" Mrs. Roberts said, with a hint of warning.
"Yes, Ma'am. Very much. I... I want it very much."
And then I couldn't stop myself. I began to cry.
"There, there," she said softly, pulling me into a warm hug with my head
against her chest. "It feels good, doesn't it? Good to let go? Let us
take care of you. Put your fate into our hands."
* * *
"Oh dear," Mrs. Roberts said, frowning. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear."
I stared at the ground, shoulders slumped.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am," I said in my most contrite voice.
We were all back in my bedroom where Miss Denise and Mrs. Roberts were
picking out clothes for me to wear. When they asked me to take off my
robe and nightgown, I panicked. There was no screen in my bedroom, they
would see me in just a pair of panties! At first I tried to go to the
bathroom to change, but that was down the hall, and then I begged them
that I was too shy -- but they were having none of that! And so, there
was nothing to do but undress right in front of them.
Then I remembered that I was still wearing the cum-stained panties from
the night before!
"It looks like we've had an accident?" Mrs. Roberts remarked. "Don't try
and cover up your transgression. Put your hands to your side."
With a sigh, I did as instructed. The cum-stained panties from the night
before were there for all to see. And even worse, there were two new wet
spots.
"Oh goodness," Miss Denise giggled. "Looks like _someone_ lost control,
didn't they?" she tutted.
I hoped beyond all hope that the floor would open up and swallow me
whole.
"Miss Clarke," said Mrs. Roberts in her most patient tone. "I understand
that girls like you have... ah... certain _physical_ needs. But that
does not excuse a lack of self-control."
"Yes, Ma'am. I'm sorry Ma'am."
"And you do realize why this is a problem, don't you? Denise and I will
be dressing you in many very beautiful, _very expensive_ clothes. Do you
understand? And we can't have you staining them."
"Yes, Ma'am, I understand, Ma'am."
"But clearly, as we can see the evidence before us, you appear to lack
sufficient will power. And so, I think we'll need to attack this problem
with an appropriate set of punishments and demerits, until you learn."
"Ma'am?" I asked, tremulously.
"Punishments and demerits, Miss Clarke. After all, you will never learn
control unless there are negative consequences. You see how that's
necessary, don't you?"
"Negative consequence?"
"Exactly. Now let's decide on the punishment. I don't believe in
arbitrary punishments. So, let's say... eight demerits and a mandatory
spanking with the paddle to be given immediately upon discovery."
I gasped out loud. An immediate and mandatory... spanking?? She couldn't
possibly mean...?
"Oh dear," Miss Denise said. I could tell she felt sorry for me.
"Yes, that's right. The severity of the punishment underscores the
seriousness of the offense. And let me be clear, the punishment will be
the same regardless of the size, or... ah... _quantity_ of the
infraction. No matter how or why, and no matter the extenuating
circumstances - any accident, spotting, or leakage whatsoever will be
punished with equal severity. Only within the boundaries of an absolute
and unbending set of rules will you learn self-control, I am convinced.
My mind is quite made up on this point. Do I make myself absolutely
clear?"
Of course I understood that leaks and accidents could be disastrous if
they got onto the expensive clothes. But spankings and demerits? This
was too much! What was I going to do?
"Miss Clarke? Do you understand?" repeated Mrs. Roberts, her eyes
glittering.
I looked back and forth between them. I was being treated like a naughty
child, with discipline and spankings and corrective actions! What was I
going to do? If I couldn't control myself... but I would have to!
I thought back. Last night was surely just an aberration, right? After
all, I'm a grown human being - surely I can control myself. I had never
had problems before.
"Miss Clarke?"
"Yes, Ma'am, I understand," I responded, submissively.
"And do you agree with my rules?"
I hesitated, but ultimately decided it was best to just agree.
"Yes, Ma'am, I agree to your rules," I said, putting myself into Mrs.
Roberts' system of training and negative consequences. I shivered.
"Now, please repeat it all back to me, to be sure that we are all
agreed."
"Yes, Ma'am." Oh, god. What had I done? "I, uh, understand that I will
be punished with..."
"Eight demerits," she prompted.
"Yes, eight demerits," why eight? I thought to myself, "and..." I
gulped, "an immediate and mandatory spanking with the paddle as soon
as... uh... an infraction is discovered."
"And the punishment will be the same..."
"Right. And the punishment will be the same regardless of the size or
quantity of the accident and, uh... no matter what other extenuating
circumstances there might be."
"Very good. And now we get to the matter of inspections."
"Inspections?" I squeaked.
"Oh, awesome!" Miss Denise exclaimed, delighted.
"Yes, inspections. Naturally, Denise and I must have the freedom to
inspect you at any time, you understand that, don't you? After all, how
will we know if you are controlling yourself without the proper
inspection?"
"But Ma'am..." I whined.
"No 'buts'. Random, and dare I say... _frequent_."
"Very frequent," Miss Denise added, giggling.
"Now, Denise, this is for Miss Clarke's improvement, not for your
entertainment."
"Yes mother."
"That's right, random and frequent inspections are to be expected and
must be agreed to for this program to work. Do you understand?"
I fidgeted back and forth, before finally replying.
"Yes, Ma'am.'
"Very good, now repeat it back to me."
I sighed. Was there no end to the invasions of my person I must endure?
Apparently not.
"I further understand that there will be random, and possibly
frequent... ah... inspections to ensure my compliance with the rules and
that there have been no accidents."
"And finally, you must not hide any violations. If we ever discover that
you have covered up a violation, your punishment will be five times
worse! That means a very long spanking and 40 demerits! If you ever
discover a violation on your own, you must immediately come to me or
Denise and admit your failing to us in person, and then gracefully
accept your punishment. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Ma'am," I said with a gulp. "I understand that failing to inform
you of a violation will mean that my punishment is five times worse."
I felt my heart sink. Inspections? Self-policing of my own violations? I
felt Mrs. Roberts' control over me tighten ever so slightly, like a
gloved hand squeezing around my soul.
"Very good. Denise? Would you fetch the punishment paddle?"
"Yes mother!" Miss Denise hopped up and ran out of the room.
"What? Mrs. Roberts, I mean... Ma'am... Does Miss Denise... I mean..."
"Yes, Denise will need to be here to witness. I want to show her how to
do it properly."
"Do it properly?? But... but that means that Miss Denise, I mean... that
she might be spanking me?" the last words came out as a squeak.
"Why yes, of course! You don't expect me to be the only one to spank
you, do you? Goodness no. I'm much too old for that. Don't you worry,
I'm sure that Denise will be a wonderful, and hopefully not too
enthusiastic, disciplinarian when required."
Miss Denise returned to the room moments later with the required
instrument. It was shaped like a wide ruler with a handle, and was made
out of a hard, purple wood. The handle was well worn, and the spanking
surface had clearly seen many a red bottom.
More than anything else, seeing the paddle made me realize what I had
done. Why didn't I just say no? I thought furiously to myself. Why
didn't I just walk out of the room and run away? What is wrong with me??
"Come here, dear," Mrs. Roberts said.
I hesitated. Was I going to do this? Was I going to let this beautiful,
statuesque, demanding woman take control of me in this way? This meant
that any 'accidents' would be met with demerits and spankings, from here
on out. It also meant that the humiliation of random inspections, and
the loss of whatever privacy I might have enjoyed.
I looked at Mrs. Roberts, who now looked taller, sterner and more
womanly than ever before, still in her nightgown with the neckline
gaping open, and Miss Denise, perky with wide-eyed interest, stunningly
beautiful with her long hair, and gorgeous body, barely covered by her
unbuttoned pajama top.
"Miss Clarke?" Mrs. Robert's enquired.
"Yes, Ma'am," I acquiesced.
"Now, you're too old for an over-the-knee spanking, but certainly not
too old for a bare-bottom spanking. So just stand here, and lean over
with your hands on your knees. That's a good girl. Now, let's just push
down these panties..."
"Ma'am!?" I cried out, as my ass was exposed. My penis -- why is it
hard? Damn it! -- bobbed out into the open air.
"Oh, hush, unless you want even more demerits! Are you shy in front of
Denise? That's very sweet of you, Miss Clarke, but there's really no
need. She's a modern young woman and has seen it all."
"Oh, certainly, Miss Clarke," Miss Denise added, trying to put me at
ease. "No need to be ashamed! We're all girls here, right? Of course, I
haven't been spanked since I was 11, but..."
Realizing that I was being spanked like a little girl didn't help at
all! I blushed even more, and my traitor of a penis got even harder. Was
I enjoying this?? Surely not!
"Now Miss Clarke, for this spanking, and any spankings you might get in
the future, I want you to reflect on what you've done wrong. Think about
your transgressions, how you might improve yourself in the future, and
fill yourself with gratefulness and appreciation that someone is taking
their time and energy to provide this necessary correction to your
behavior."
"Yes, Ma'am."
And then I was paddled.
It wasn't very many spanks, just 10, six delivered methodically to
alternating ass cheeks, and then four across both. Mrs. Roberts seemed
to know intuitively just how much I could take, and each spank was just
on the edge of being too much to bear. The strength of the spanks
gradually increased, and so the last couple were the strongest. The
shock of the spanks, the unexpected intensity of the experience, and my
general feelings of being freaked out in general overwhelmed me. I found
myself openly sobbing by the end.
"There, there, my dear," said Mrs. Roberts soothingly as she finished up
the spanking. "Let it all out. That's a good girl. Now come here."
Mrs. Roberts sat down on my bed and pulled me into a warm embrace,
stroking my hair, and letting me sob openly, my face on her ample
bosoms. Miss Denise sat down on my other side and gently stroked my
back, both of them uttering soothing words.
At some point Mrs. Roberts handed me a lace hanky which I used it to
wipe my eyes and blow my nose.
"Now, Miss Clarke, don't you have something to say?" Mrs. Roberts
prompted.
I looked at her frozen, worried. What had I forgotten?
"Thank you...?" I ventured.
"Thank you for what?"
I thought furiously. Be grateful!
"Thank you for taking the time to... spank me," I said haltingly. "Uh...
I mean, thank you for taking the time to provide, uh, proper correction
for my behavior."
"And you promise...?"
"Oh, yes, Ma'am. And I solemnly promise to do better in the future."
"There now, don't you feel so much better? I find that immediate
spankings do wonders for an individual's healthy psychology. Don't you?"
I looked down, still feeling the sting on my bright red cheeks. "Yes,
Ma'am," I muttered.
"Very good. Now let's get you cleaned up and dressed, shall we?"
* * *
Chapter 6:
Two hours later, I was freshly washed, shaved, powdered, perfumed, and
moisturized, and I had on a simple but elegant Calvin Klein sheath
dress, panties, a bra, stockings, and a full makeover including hair,
nails and makeup.
I won't go into all of the details of the indignities that I was forced
to endure. Suffice it to say that I am shaved (legs, underarms),
depilated (all body hair chemically removed!), exfoliated, moisturized
top to bottom (yes, bottom), eyebrows plucked, and nails trimmed.
The dress was simple but sophisticated, made of a soft wool-like fabric
(but lighter), lined with satin, with a low-hanging belt. "Your teacher
dress," Miss Denise called it, and it did make me look like a teacher,
albeit a classy and sexy one.
"But Mother, it's just not right," Miss Denise whined.
Both Miss Denise and Mrs. Roberts were now fully dressed as well -
having gotten their own showers and dressed in their regular clothes
(jeans and pink blouse for Miss Denise, expensive looking but no-
nonsense blouse and skirt for Mrs. Roberts).
"But what's the matter, dear?" Mrs. Roberts responded. "I think she's
looking quite good."
"Well, first, her *hair*! It's just not right. Not what I would want for
Miss Clarke. And there's this problem..."Miss Denise gestured to my
chest, which was still flat as a board.
"Ah yes, that is a problem," Mrs. Roberts agreed. "I tell you what. Let
me call a friend of mine and see if she can help. In the meantime, I
think you two have studying to do?"
* * *
"What size would you like for Miss Clarke?" asked Madam Gounod, in a
light French accent.
The ladies were discussing what size breasts I would have!
We were all in the living room of the Roberts' mansion, and Madam
Gounod, a breast and female prosthetics specialist, was showing us her
new line of breast forms.
"Well, I'm a D," said Miss Denise.
"And I'm a triple-D," added Mrs. Roberts.
"Mes ami," said Madam Gounod, "are you most certain of your sizes?"
Miss Denise and Mrs. Roberts looked at each other.
"Well, I suppose it has been a while since we were measured," Mrs.
Roberts said.
"I thought so. Shall we measure, then? Please, take off your blouses and
stand here next to me. Here, I shall undress as well, so that you will
feel more comfortable."
And without a care in the world, all three women removed their blouses,
exposing their satin and lace bra-covered breasts to my astonished eyes.
"Miss Clarke?" Miss Denise asked. "Are you okay? You seem... well...
somewhat _flustered_."
"No, no," I hastened to reply.
"Are you sure, Miss Clarke?" Mrs. Roberts asked. She lightly grasped my
chin and tilted my head to look up at her. "You are somewhat flushed."
"Let me see," Denise said, "I hope you're okay!" Both Denise and Madam
Gounod moved closer, surrounding me with half-dressed ladies in lacy
bras.
"I think she'll be fine," Mrs. Roberts answered for me. "Just a lot of
excitement for the poor dear. Now Madam? Why don't you start with Denise
first.
"Very good, now let's see..." Madam Gounod said as she ran the measuring
tape underneath and then across Miss Denise's bosom. "36 double-D".
"Double D?" Miss Denise said, shocked, but delighted. "Really??"
"Yes, dear."
"I guess I'm a grown up girl now!"
"Oui, Mademoiselle, in all the best ways. Now, Madam," Madam Gounod
proceeded to measure Mrs. Roberts' breasts. "38 G! Also larger than
expected, I think?"
"Indeed!" said Mrs. Roberts, smiling. "I can see there will be many new
bra purchases in our future!"
Why did she just look at me?
"Now come here, my dear," Mrs. Roberts said, motioning for me to stand
next to her. I gulped as I stood between the two voluptuous older
ladies. "I think that it will, ah... achieve our goals better if Miss
Clark here on the large side, if you know what I mean?" said Mrs.
Roberts.
"I certainly do," Madam Gounod gave her a knowing look. "Men are such
simpletons. No eye for beauty. No eye for proportion."
"But, Madam, I'm not a simpleton..." I started to object.
"Shush, dear," said Mrs. Roberts. "We are not talking about you."
"But then--"
"So, then, double-D?" asked Miss Denise, interrupting. "Or larger?"
"We shall just have to see," said Madam Gounod. "Hold still, Miss
Clarke," she said as she unzipped my dress from behind and slipped it
off my shoulders and down to my waist.
And I had only just become comfortable wearing it! Study time with Miss
Denise had been a constant assault on my senses. The dress was lined
with satin and was deliciously slippery over my undergarments. But the
bra, panties, garters, and stockings were all firm and binding, and
every time I moved something tugged somewhere to remind me that I was
fully dressed as a woman.
And then, of course, Miss Denise would announce every ten minutes that I
needed another inspection! And then I would have to stand up and lift my
skirt while she carefully inspected my panties for wet spots.
"I see that she is already wearing a bra, and it's a size D? Well, then,
let's try that size first."
Madam Gounod picked up two size-D breast forms and placed one in each of
my bra cups, adjusting them so they looked natural. I gasped as the cool
rubber touched my skin.
"Oh, now, that is already such a difference!" said Mrs. Roberts,
enthusiastically.
"Yes, so much more convincing. I can't wait to dress her up in all kinds
of tight fitting clothes! Yummy! But I do think I want a pair that's,
uh... more generous."
"Oui, Mademoiselle," responded Madam Gounod.
"Eep!" I squeaked as Mrs. Gounod unsnapped my bra from behind and then
removed it from me.
"Shall we move right up to triple-D?" Madam Gounod asked rhetorically,
holding out a new bra. I slipped my arms into it and she efficiently
hooked it up behind me. Reaching into her carrying case, she pulled out
new breast forms and placed them into my bra cups, causing another
tingle to run through my body. The new ones were so heavy!
"Oh, yes," said Miss Denise. "Miss Clarke? Could you please put your
dress back on? I'd like to see how it looks when you're fully clothed."
I did as instructed, and Madam Gounod zipped me up.
"Very nice," Mrs. Roberts said, boldly running her hands over my chest
and stomach, feeling the size and bulge of my new breasts. "Denise?"
Miss Denise joined her mother, running her hands over my body and
squeezing my new breasts as if I were a piece of fruit at the market.
All of their attention was causing me to moan softly.
"Ma'am?" I asked, hesitantly, feeling my urges rise.
"Later, dear," Mrs. Roberts shushed me.
"Almost perfect," said Miss Denise, "one size larger, I think."
"Oui, Mademoiselle, but are you certain? You don't think they will be
too... obvious?"
"I believe that what Denise is trying to say," cut in Mrs. Roberts, "is
that obvious is necessary to achieve our purpose."
"Purpose?" I asked, wondering what the hell they were talking about.
"What purpose?"
"Shush, dear," said Mrs. Roberts again, putting me in my place.
The new larger (size 'F'!) breast forms required a new, larger bra with
heavier underwire, and once I had been re-fitted and re-dressed...
"Yes!" said Denise, delighted, clapping her hands. "They're absolutely
perfect!"
The three ladies ran their hands over my body, admiring and testing my
new curves. I whimpered under their ministrations, trying my best to
control myself.
"And now, mes ami, we need to decide on firmness. Young Miss Denise
here, is quite firm," she added, squeezing Miss Denise's breasts to
demonstrate. "Can you feel their firmness, Madam?"
Mrs. Roberts took Miss Denise's breasts in her hands and squeezed them
gently. "Indeed," she said. "Ah... those were the days," she added
wistfully.
"Miss Clarke?" asked Miss Denise, mischievously. "Would you like to
feel?"
"Me?" I squeaked.
"_Oui, naturalment_," said Madam Gounod. "We are just ladies here. No
need to be a shy little girl."
"Here, let me help," said Miss Denise, said, reaching out for my hands
and placing them on her breasts. "Now, feel how firm they are?"
"Yes..." I croaked. "Uh... quite firm."
"Go ahead, take your time. Squeeze them as much as you'd like."
"And here, Madam Roberts' breasts are softer, _ naturalment_. But then,
some men prefer the soft breasts, no?"
And so everyone had to go and feel Mrs. Roberts' breasts. I wasn't going
to, but this time Mrs. Roberts took hold of my hands and placed them on
her own ample bosom where I was obliged to squeeze them too, and comment
on their softness.
"And mine are in-between, medium firmness, if you will," said Madam
Gounod, thrusting her chest out proudly for all of us to squeeze and
fondle.
"Ma'am?" I tugged on Mrs. Roberts' skirt as I felt my penis twitching
inside my satiny nylon panties. "I... uh... have something I really need
to tell you."
"Later dear," she shushed me.
"What level of firmness is Miss Clarke wearing right now?" asked Denise,
putting her hands on my chest and manipulating my breast forms, causing
my knees to go weak.
"Medium firmness," said Madam Gounod.
"I think this is just right, actually," said Miss Denise. "Mother, what
do you think?"
And now all the women were holding and squeezing and fondling _my_
breasts, with Mrs. Roberts reaching around from behind and Miss Denise
and Madam Gounod in front.
"Ma'am?" I asked, more urgent now.
"That's enough, Miss Clarke," Mrs. Roberts said, in my ear with a
chuckle. "Not another peep from you while our guest is here. Is that
clear?"
"Yes, Ma'am," I said.
"Is there anything more?" she asked Madam Gounod.
"Indeed there is, _mon ami_!" said Madam Gounod, her eyes flashing. "We
have just introduced a brand new product, which I think you will like
very much! It helps the wearer, how shall I say... have more of the
delicious sensations?"
"Delicious sensations?" asked Miss Denise, delighted. "That sounds cool.
But what do you mean, exactly?"
Madam Gounod pulled out a special gold box, labeled 'Size F' from her
case. Opening it up, she pulled out two new breast forms, larger and
heavier than the ones I was wearing, and held them up for inspection.
"See? This hollow here," she pointed to a carved out area in the back of
the breast form surrounded by a firm rubber ring. "When it is placed
over our young lady's breast, will induce... how do you say... suction?
When the breasts are squeezed."
"No!" Miss Denise exclaimed.
"But oui! And these ridges here, they will massage Miss Clarke's natural
bosoms as well. I am told the sensation is... exquisite."
"Madam Gounod, you are a genius!" said Mrs. Roberts, clearly impressed.
"But that is not all! Here at the tip, do you see? Suction will actually
draw up our poor girl's nipple into this cavity, and my dears, it is
mechanically connected to the nipple here..."
"You don't mean... When we play with her nipples, she will feel it?"
Denise gasped.
"Oui, oui! But even better, when you pinch her nipples - as many a young
gentleman has been known to do! Her nipples will be pinched as well.
Quite firmly, I am told, so firmly that young ladies wearing these
breast forms are quite, how shall I say... sensitive to their motion."
"Oh, we must have them for Miss Clarke! Mother??"
"Of course! Madam Gounod?"
I looked on in absolute terror as Madam Gounod covered the interior of
the new breast forms with a special lubricant, "to encourage suction and
help transfer even more feeling!" she explained. She then substituted my
current F-sized forms for the new ones, gently placing them into the bra
cups and over my own breasts and adjusting them carefully, smearing the
lubricant into my skin.
"E voila!" she announced, grinning triumphantly.
The lubricant was cold and slimy at first but quickly warmed up.
"Oh my goodness," Mrs. Roberts said, her eyes wide. "Those nipples, why
they're so large and hard, they're practically _pornographic_."
"Oui, Madam. They are larger and more... pronounced than normal. It is
required for the mechanism."
"Should I?" Miss Denise asked, holding up a hand to my breast.
"Yes, _certainement_."
Gently Denise brushed my breasts with her fingertips.
"Oh!" I sucked in my breath.
"You can feel that?" Denise was incredulous.
"Yes! Oh... that's weird," I said, gasping, tingles running through my
body.
"The breast forms, they transmit feeling. And the lubricant, increases
sensitivity," Madam Gounod explained. "Now, Miss Denise, try squeezing
them. But gently."
Denise gently held both of my breasts and squeezed.
"Ohhhh!" I moaned, stumbling.
"It draws her natural breasts up into the breast form, past the hard
rubber rings which line the interior," Madam Gounod explained.
"How does it feel, Miss Clarke?" Miss Denise asked.
"Intense," I gasped. "Like I'm caught up in a milking machine, or
something."
"How wonderful!" Mrs. Roberts said, delighted. "Let me try!"
Mrs. Roberts wrapped her arms around me from behind, pinning my arms to
my sides, as she reached around me and began roughly manipulating my
new tits.
"Ma'am!!" I groaned, struggling to escape her clutches. I could feel her
every touch and every squeeze roughly tugging and pulling at my flesh.
My penis, already hard, had begun to twitch in its delicate lace
panties. "Ma'am!" I said, terrified I might lose control.
"Hush, dear," Mrs. Roberts said, her hot breath in my ear.
"And even better," Madam Gounod continued, "these breast forms, they
draw her nipple up into the cavity at the top, into the tight rubber
ring which guards the entrance. Which means... Miss Denise? Try flicking
her nipples."
Miss Denise reached out and gently tweaked my nipples with her fingers.
I gurgled, struggling, as jolts of pleasure ran through my body.
"Ma'am??" I asked desperately, all but certain my penis was leaking by
now.
"Hush, Miss Clarke! Now how many times do I have to tell you? Not
another peep from you!"
"And now, the _piece de résistance_, Miss Denise? Pinch her nipples.
With authority."
I tried to shy away, but Mrs. Roberts held me firm, as Miss Denise
reached out, took both my nipples between her fingers, and squeezed.
"Ahhh!!!" I squealed, my tender nipples crying out in pain.
"Does that hurt?" she asked, excitedly, as she pinched them again.
"Yes!!!"
"These are so amazing!" Miss Denise enthused, now pinching and squeezing
my new breast forms mercilessly. I squirmed and struggled as much as I
could, but Mrs. Roberts held me tight against her body and there was no
escape from their inquisitive hands.
Oh my god.
"Please!" I struggled harder, trying to escape. But Mrs. Roberts held me
firm with my arms trapped by my side.
"What's the matter?" Miss Denise asked wickedly, squeezing and massaging
my breasts with deep, rhythmic motions.
"Oh... please... please...!" was all I could get out before it happened.
My whole body shuddered with pleasure.
"Miss Clarke!" Mrs. Roberts exclaimed, shocked. "Did you... did you just
have an accident??"
"Yes, ma'am," I sobbed.
"Really?" Denise said, eyes wide. "Just like that? Without, you know,
anyone touching you... down there?"
I hung my head. "Yes, Miss Denise. I'm so sorry."
"That is quite wonderful!" exclaimed Madam Gounod. "Such a rare flower
you have found."
What was she talking about? The ladies looked at each other with
expressions of delight.
"Yes, I quite agree," said Mrs. Roberts. "But wouldn't have been
possible without those wonderful new breast forms! Madam Gounod, I am
quite overcome in my admiration of your expertise in these matters."
"Now, Miss Clarke," Mrs. Roberts continued, "while I am discussing terms
with Madam Gounod, please go and clean up your accident, choose a pretty
new pair of panties to wear, and then return here as quick as you can."
"Yes, Ma'am," I said. "Thank you, Ma'am."
* * *
"_Merveilleusement_!" exclaimed Madam Gounod when I returned, looking me
in the eyes with a ferocious hunger that took my breath away.
I quickly went to stand in front of Mrs. Roberts.
"I'm all done, Ma'am", I said, with a nervous glance at Madam Gounod.
"Very good, Miss Clarke. Now, by your own admission you were unable to
control yourself and had an accident. You know what that means, don't
you?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Eight more demerits."
"And...?"
No, she couldn't mean...
"That's right, my dear."
"But..." I looked at Madam Gounod. "Not in front of..."
"Lift your skirt, take down your panties, and lean over," instructed
Mrs. Roberts, her voice full of authority.
Slowly, fearfully, I did as instructed, standing with legs pressed
firmly together, my beautiful Calvin Klein sheath dress draped over my
back.
"Miss Clarke?" Mrs. Roberts cautioned.
"Yes, Ma'am," I gulped, pulling down my panties the minimum possible
amount to exposed my bare bottom.
"Madam Gounod, would you like to do the honors?" asked Mrs. Roberts.
"_Certainement_, Madam," she replied. "It will be my pleasure."
Somehow a paddle appeared out of nowhere which Madam Gounod first
lightly rubbed against my cheeks before giving me my first spank.
"Oh!" I cried, shocked at how hard it was
"It is best to show them a firm hand, is it not?" she said, between
spanks. "They must know their place and know their betters."
"Oh, I most certainly agree," said Mrs. Roberts. "But don't be too hard
on poor Miss Clarke. She does try to the best of her abilities."
"It matters not if they try," responded Madam Gounod. "It only matters
if they succeed."
Madam Gounod's spankings were so much harder, that after just the first
two I was gasping and squirming. After 4, Miss Denise was holding my
hands firmly behind my back to keep me in place. By 7, I was in tears.
"Thank you, Madam Gounod," said Mrs. Roberts, after the spanking was
over. "I think that's a lesson our Miss Clarke will not soon forget."
"No, Ma'am," I said, sniffling.
"Mother? Should we put some lotion on Miss Clark's bottom? That was an
awfully hard spanking."
"Why Denise, you are a dear, generous soul. I think that would be a
wonderful idea! I have some lotion right here in my purse. Miss Clarke?
Lay across my lap."
"Ma'am?" I asked, eyes wide.
"Tut, tut. Come here, girl. Don't keep Denise waiting, after she has
offered to do this nice thing for you."
Hesitantly I draped myself over Mrs. Robert's lap. This position, bent
over as I was with my naked ass in the air and my cheeks parted, was
many times more humiliating than the spanking had been! And if that
wasn't bad enough, somehow my penis had become hard! It pressed against
Mrs. Roberts legs. I prayed she wouldn't notice!
Mrs. Roberts squeezed a generous portion of lotion onto my bottom and
rubbed it in.
"Denise?" she asked.
"Of course, mother!" Miss Denise responded, her hands joining her
mothers. "Madam Gounod?"
"Oui, mademoiselle."
And just like that all three women were rubbing lotion into my naked
bottom with their hands. I did my best to hold still, but when their
hands and fingers began to wander, an involuntary moan slipped from
between my lips.
But they weren't satisfied with just that! Fingers rubbed across my
puckered anus.
"Oooooo!!!" I squealed. My control was slipping, again! How could this
be?? So soon after my previous accident! A hand went between my legs.
"Ma'am?" I asked, urgently. "Ma'am?"
"There now," Mrs. Roberts said after a few moments more, gently pushing
me off her lap, "we're all done."
"Thank you, Ma'am," I said, my legs week. I felt that if I moved even
one inch, I might have another accident. "And... uh... thank you Miss
Denise, and Madam Gounod."
"I trust you have learned your lesson?" Mrs. Roberts asked, the hint of
a triumphant smile crossing her face.
"Yes, ma'am," I said, ruefully. But what lesson had I learned? It seemed
that no matter what I did, these three evil ladies were intent on
causing me as much humiliation as possible!
"Very good. Now go upstairs and put on a clean pair of panties. And then
I think that you and Denise have some more studying to do?"
Chapter 7:
"Miss Clarke, may I speak with you?"
"Yes, Ma'am, of course." I was in my room. Miss Denise and I had just
finished studying for the day.
The day had been pure torture! My new breasts! They were terrible! Every
single little motion and the breast forms would jiggle and pull at my
own chest, the weight and suction causing me constant stimulation. And
it didn't help that Miss Denise kept 'accidentally' brushing up against
them, or nudging them with her elbow, causing me to gasp every time.
Even something as simple as walking down the hallway was a cause for
stimulation, as my new breast forms hung and swayed, no matter how I
tried to adjust the straps of my new bra. If only I knew how to walk in
heels! They made everything so much worse!
I was just about to take them off to give my poor chest a break when
Mrs. Roberts appeared at my door. She sat down on my bed and motioned
for me to sit down next to her.
"Now Miss Clarke, I need to talk to you about your employment."
"Oh no, Ma'am!" I said, suddenly worried. "I hope I haven't done
something wrong! I'm so sorry about soiling Miss Denise's panties and
how I lost control in front of Madam Gounod, I just --"
"Now dear, those incidents have already been taken handled, and you've
already been disciplined, so no need to worry about that. No, I would
like to talk about your demerits."
"Demerits, ma'am?"
"As you know, you now have 22 demerits. Every time you help with meal
service, that's a demerit you can work off."
"Just a single demerit?" I asked, feeling my heart sink.
"Yes dear. As appropriate for the level of effort, don't you agree?"
Mrs. Roberts looked at me sternly.
"Yes, Ma'am," I said, crestfallen.
"So, that means you still have, by my accounting, 20 demerits to work
off. So you can see my dilemma. At this rate, it will take you ten days
to work off all your demerits. And that's only if there are no more
accidents. I'm afraid I won't be able to let you leave at the end of the
week, like we originally agreed. Do you see?"
"Won't... won't be able to leave, Ma'am?" I asked, confused. She
couldn't mean that I was... a prisoner here?
"Yes, of course. It makes no sense for you to leave until you have
worked off all your demerits. I'm sure you can understand."
"But... Ma'am, I don't see..."
Mrs. Roberts put a hand around my waist and pulled me in close. I felt
small and vulnerable in her arms.
"Otherwise Miss Clarke," Mrs. Roberts explained patiently as if to a
child, "you could build up hundreds and hundreds of demerits willy-
nilly. If you can just leave with lots of demerits outstanding, then
there's really no incentive for you to behave properly. Surely you can
see the logic of that?"
"Well yes, but..."
"And so then, I'm sure you'll agree, that the only solution to this
problem is that you will have to stay in our employ until all of your
demerits have been worked off. Only then could I possibly let you go.
You understand, don't you dear?" Mrs. Roberts placed a hand lightly on
my knee.
I was feeling confused and woozy. Unable to leave until I had worked off
all my demerits? Suddenly the cost of losing control and having an
accident became enormous! At two demerits per day, each accident would
cost me four more days!
I thought carefully to myself. Only 20 demerits to work off.
"Could... I..."
"Yes, dear?" Mrs. Roberts's hand had moved up my leg, under my skirt.
Her fingers were warm and soft.
"Uh... are there any other ways in which I could work of demerits?"
"Oh!" she said, as if considering the thought for the first time. "Now,
that's an idea. I suppose we could find other things for you to do
around the house. Is that what you want, Miss Clarke? To serve us with
various chores around the house?"
"Yes," I said, relieved. "That's what I want."
"But it would be rather a step down for you, would it not? After all,
you are a graduate student, do I have that correct? A graduate student
working on your doctoral dissertation I believe. But now you are asking
to work around the house as a servant girl. Is that what you want, Miss
Clarke? To be a *_servant girl_*?"
"What? I... well no, not exactly..."
"But those are, unfortunately, the *_only_* sorts of chores which I have
available, Miss Clarke. Cooking, cleaning, mending, those sorts of
things. The kinds of chores that a *_servant girl_* would do."
"How about maintenance? Or gardening?" I asked, feeling panicky. "Or
maybe I could help with your computers? Surely there must be something
else I could do!"
"Computers?" Mrs. Jacobs gave a derisive snort. "Nasty machines. I don't
allow them in my house. The only good thing about computers is how the
rest of the world now appreciates my and my daughter's handwritten notes
and personal phone calls so much more. And we hire professionals for
house maintenance. I already have a gardener who works here three days a
week. I couldn't possibly fire him, just to help you work off your
demerits, now could I? No, I'm afraid that if you want to work of your
demerits, there is nothing I can offer you but simple housework."
What was I going to do? If I didn't have a way to work on my demerits, I
would have to stay on for four extra days! And I really had to get back
to school to complete my Ph.D. dissertation, all I had to do was to
write up the bibliography and it would be done! But housework? Becoming
a *_servant girl_*?
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Mrs. Roberts pulled me in closer,
one hand around my waist and the other between my stockinged legs where
it gently brushed against the front of my panties.
"Oh," I whimpered, losing concentration for a moment. Think, Jason! I
angrily thought to myself. Think!
Mrs. Roberts pulled me into her arms, enveloping me. She was a large,
curvaceous lady. I felt safe and comforted in her arms, receiving all
her attentions. It made me want to trust her authority, to submit myself
to her plans for me.
I knew I was being manipulated, that much was obvious. I just had no
idea what to do or how to respond! I was sure if I said 'Yes' then I
would be pulled further into her trap - but what trap was that? And if I
said 'No' - then what? I would have to stay for longer? Or would I be
out of a job? Thrust out of the house in women's clothing? How would I
get my keys or wallet back?
"Miss Clarke?" Mrs. Roberts gently prompted. "Would you like to do some
chores around the house to help work off your demerits?"
I looked Mrs. Roberts in the eyes. She was looking at me with concern,
and a little amusement.
"I... I guess that would be alright," I said, submitting.
"Just alright?" she teased, placing a light kiss on my cheek, causing me
to squirm some more. "Are you saying that you _want_ to be a servant
girl?"
"I... well..."
"Because I don't want a *_servant_* who isn't fully committed to their
job, who only does it half-way, do you understand? After all, what good
will it do to have to re-do all the work that you do? No, I need someone
who fully *_embraces_* the job. Who is focused, enthusiastic, and really
wants to help, from the bottom of her heart. Can you be that type of
person, Miss Clarke? Can you be a truly excellent and enthusiastic
*_servant girl_*?"
Mrs. Roberts placed a hand on my bottom and squeezed, making me blush.
"I... I think I can..." I said, quivering.
"No, no. No 'I think' or 'maybe'. If you are to work for me as a servant
girl, Miss Clarke, you must be fully committed to the job. And now,
please, just answer 'yes' or 'no'. Do you, Miss Clarke, do you want to
become my servant girl? To help work off your demerits?"
"Ah..." I gasped, as she ran her fingernails across my hard penis under
the skirt with her other hand. "Yes."
"Yes? Yes, what?"
"Yes, Ma'am," I said.
"Yes, Ma'am, what? What is it you are agreeing to?"
"Yes, Ma'am, I... I want to help around the house. To work off my
demerits."
"So, are you saying that you _want_ to become my servant girl?"
My heart sunk. I felt myself slipping... slipping into Mrs. Robert's
delicious control. But what choice did I have?
"Yes, Ma'am. Yes, I want to become your servant girl."
"Are you sure that you want to become my servant girl? I will be holding
you up to a very high standard. Do you think you can handle it?"
"Yes, Ma'am, I... I am sure. I want to become your servant girl.
"A little more enthusiasm is required, I think. Don't you?"
I took a deep breath and cleared my mind. I can do this, I thought to
myself. I put myself into as positive a frame of mind as possible.
"Please Ma'am," I said, looking at Mrs. Roberts in the eye, "please make
me your servant girl."
"Now that's better," she said, with a hint of triumph in her voice. "And
you will try your very hardest to become the best possible servant girl
you can be?"
I gulped. "Yes, Ma'am, I will try my very hardest to become the best
possible servant girl I can become."
"And you agree to follow all of my instructions, to the letter, without
hesitation and without question?"
"Yes, Ma'am, I agree to follow all of your instructions, to the letter,
without hesitation and without question."
Mrs. Roberts pulled me closer, into a hug, and lightly kissed my cheek
again, causing me to squirm in pleasure.
"And will you agree to always have a submissive frame of mind," she
whispered into my ear, her breath warm and soft, "to know your place,
and to understand that both Denise and I, and all of our guests, are,
and forever will be, your betters in life, society, and position?"
"My... my betters?"
"Admit it," she encouraged, hugging me tighter. "You know it's true.
Deep down inside, you know that Denise and I are your betters, members
of a higher class, don't you?"
"I... I..."
"Say it," she encouraged, one hand returning to my panty-covered penis,
stroking it, while the other played between the globes of my bottom. "If
you truly realize your place in life - within this household - it will
make everything so much easier."
"Ma'am..." I hesitated.
"I tell you what. To help you along, I will agree that every day as my
servant girl, you will work off 4 demerits. Isn't that generous of me?
Originally I was only going to give you 3 per day. But if you admit...
if you _surrender_, then it will be four."
"Four?" I asked. Thinking quickly, I calculated that, at 4 demerits per
day, then I would only have 5 more days to work. That meant I would be
leaving just one day after my time was up!
This was all going to work out! I realized. I would just have to control
my accidents. If I could do that, I would be out of here in 5 days, and
then I could leave...
I paused for a second, frowning.
"Miss Clarke? Are you okay?" Mrs. Roberts looked at me in concern.
"Yes, Ma'am," I responded quickly. "I'm just thinking."
"It is a very generous offer, is it not?"
"Yes, Ma'am! Very generous," I agreed.
Anyway, I would leave... and then return to the university to finish my
finish dissertation, of course. After all, that's what I was supposed to
do. That's what everyone was expecting me to do, right? Return to the
University, complete my degree, and become a college professor of
English Literature...
"Are you ready to submit?" Mrs. Roberts said, her eyes flashing.
"I..." I hesitated one last time. "Yes, Ma'am, I'm ready."
Only five more days, right? No problem.
"All right then, do you remember what you need to say?"
"I... I think so, Ma'am. I will always have a submissive frame of mind,"
I said, gulping, my eyes downcast.
"Continue. Know your place. Understand who your betters are."
"And... and I..."
"Say it."
"I will always know my place. I will always understand that you, Ma'am,
and Miss Denise are my betters."
"... and all of our guests too..."
"... and all of your guests as well. That... that you, Miss Denise, and
your guests are, and forever will be..."
What was I doing? I thought wildly to myself. Did I really believe this?
Did I really feel like I was a member of a lower class? What was wrong
with me? Such things didn't exist anymore, did they?
"Yes?" Mrs. Roberts prompted, pulling me into a hug from behind, her
hands now on my breasts, tweaking and pinching my nipples causing me to
twitch with pleasure.
"Say it," she said. "We both know you want to. So go ahead. Say it.
Surrender yourself to me."
"You and your guests will forever be my betters, in life, society, and
position," I gasped, nearly losing control. No!! Not another accident!!
I can't afford to have another accident! "Now and forever," I added.
"That's a good girl," Mrs. Roberts cooed, positively glowing with the
pleasure of her conquest. "Now, to cement our new relationship, I would
like you to address me differently. Ma'am is rather ambiguous, I think.
I think I would prefer something... more explicit. Now, as I am the lady
of the house -- and now you are now a household servant girl -- that
means that I am..."
"I'm sorry?" I squirmed under her continued ministrations, doing my best
to concentrate.
"If I were a man, I would be the lord of the house. Your lord. Remember
that I said we were old-fashioned here? But since I am the lady of the
house, that makes me..."
"A lady?" I asked, tremulously.
"Very good, Miss Clark! That is exactly right. But whose lady?"
"Uh... My Lady?" I asked, my stomach clenching up.
"Exactly! And so, don't you think it makes sense for you to address me
as '*_My_* Lady', since I am now, _your_ lady. Isn't that right?"
"Yes... Yes, Ma'am."
"And you must not ever use the shortened form, 'milady'," she cautioned.
"It must always be said in the full form, 'My Lady'. Any infractions
will be immediately punished with 4 demerits. Do you understand? Now
let's hear you say it, for the first time."
"Yes... My Lady," I said, stunned. My Lady? Could I remember to say
that?
"Very good. That's exactly how an obedient, subservient, submissive,
servant girl should behave. Now, as I am the only lady of this house, I
am the only one you will address in this fashion. Denise will continue
to be 'Miss Denise' as before, and all guests will either be 'Sir' or
'Ma'am', unless they have some other formal title. Is all of that
clear?"
"Yes, uh... My Lady." Just saying the words 'my lady' was already
putting me into a different frame of mind. Like magic, the words
themselves were making Mrs. Roberts appear to be more superior in my
mind, more noble, and more deserving of my respect and deference.
I looked into her eyes, feeling very small and weak.
"Very good," Mrs. Roberts said, noticing the change in me. "I'm so glad
to see you falling into your new position so readily. I knew you would.
Now, Miss Clarke, I was wondering if you could help me out with
something else? You are now my servant, is that right?"
"Yes... My Lady."
"Exactly. And you are also a girl, isn't that correct? You have just
agreed to me my servant girl, unless I am not mistaken?"
"I... You..." my shoulders sagged. "No, Ma-- I mean, My Lady."
"Was that a slip-up I just heard?"
"No, My Lady!" I said, hurriedly. "Certainly not!"
"I'm afraid it was. That's four more demerits I'm afraid, Miss Clarke.
That's 24 demerits now, is that correct?"
"Yes, My Lady. It is correct," I said, cursing under my breath. Damn it!
24 demerits! Another day before I could leave!
"Back to my original question, you have agreed to be my servant _girl_,
isn't that correct, Miss Clarke?"
"Yes, My Lady."
"Very good. Now I was wondering -- is there a word for a _girl_, who is
a _servant_ who is employed by a _lady_ to do household chores? Can you
think of word for such a person?"
Oh god... could she mean...?
"Now, Miss Clarke, I really need your help here. I'm sure there must be
a word for a _girl_, like yourself, who is employed _around the house_
to do _household chores_ for her _lady_ and _mistress_. Chores like
_laundry_, _dressing_, _cleaning_ ,_making beds_, and the like. Can you
think of what that word might be?"
Mrs. Roberts furrowed her brow, as if deep in thought.
"Any ideas?" she prompted.
"Uh... is it, My Lady..." I stumbled, no, she couldn't, I wasn't... she
couldn't mean..."... a ... a... ma... maid?" I stammered.
"That's it!" she exclaimed, jubilantly. "That's the word I was looking
for. A servant girl who does chores around the house for her lady and
mistress is a _maid_. Exactly right. Oh, but then that means..." Mrs.
Roberts looked at me as if with dawning comprehension.
"My Lady?" No, she wasn't going to do this to me! She couldn't! She
wouldn't!!
"Well, Miss Clarke, after all, you're a girl. And you're my servant now,
and you'll be doing household chores for me, your lady and mistress.
Why, doesn't that make you a...?"
I paused for the longest time. Looking up at Mrs. Roberts, I saw
absolutely no leeway in her eyes. This was going to happen whether I
wanted it or not.
"I'm... a maid," I said, feeling all my willpower draining away. "A
maid, My Lady."
"Who's maid?"
"Your maid. I am your maid, My Lady."
"Now, I am a lady, correct?"
"Yes, Ma--," I winced, "I mean, My Lady."
Crap.
"Another four demerits, Miss Clarke. That's 28. Now here's the question
I want you to answer next. If I am a Lady, and you are my maid, what
type of maid does that make you?"
"A... A... A lady's maid? My Lady?"
"Yes, Miss Clarke, that is correct. You are now a lady's maid. Look it
up someday, and I think you'll discover that it suits you perfectly.
Now, I have one more question for you, but before I do..."
Mrs. Roberts pulled me onto her lap and turned me to face her. One hand
slipped between my legs and the other first tweaked one nipple, and then
moved to the other.
"Mrs. Roberts!" I gasped. "I mean, My Lady! Please!"
"Tut, tut," said Mrs. Roberts, slyly. "That's another 4 demerits, Miss
Clarke. Now you're at 32. How quickly they build up!"
"Please, My Lady," I said, squirming under her ministrations, "I'm
almost..."
"Now Miss Clarke," said Mrs. Roberts. She pulled her hands back, giving
me a chance to come down from the brink. "I do have one more thing to
tell you. One more delicious, humiliating, demand for you - my
delightfully subservient and ever so devoted lady's maid, but before I
do, now it is time for you to make a choice."
"A choice?" I asked, my voice croaking. I breathed in deeply,
desperately trying to pull back from my almost-accident.
"Yes, a choice. You know that if you stay on my lap, then I will
continue to play with your nipples, and I will continue to stroke you
down there. You know that don't you?"
"Please, My Lady! No!" I pleaded with her, frightened.
"Oh, but I will. I absolutely have to. If you continue to sit in my lap,
which I hope you do! Then you will be mercilessly played with, including
your nipples, that delightful little bulge in your pretty panties, and
those cute little buns! And I'm just going to keep doing it - because I
just can't stop myself - yes, until you have an accident! That, of
course, will mean 8 more demerits for my poor, poor Lady's Maid, Miss
Clarke, who just can't seem to control herself!"
I sat there, looking down, blushing beet red.
"And if you lose control - which I'm certain you will," continued Mrs.
Roberts, "you would then need to stay here for at least another two
days, as a servant girl - as my _Lady's Maid_ - to work off these new
demerits. Or..."
"Or? My Lady?" I asked, lookup up, suddenly hopeful that I might be
given a reprieve.
"Or, you can simply get up off my lap."
"Just... get up?" I asked, surprised. "My Lady?"
"Yes, that is your choice. It has always been your choice, of course.
You could always just get up, or tell me to stop, or ask to be left
alone. Of course, I'm not making it easy for you, nor will I ever! But
you can always just get up."
"I... I... I'm confused..."
"Oh, you poor dear. Have I overtaxed your poor over-educated brain? It's
really not that complicated. Because now I have fully revealed my evil
plan, don't you see? If you stay -- If you simply stay seated, upon my
lap," Mrs. Roberts lifted a finger and placed it gently on my left
nipple, where it obscenely tented the fabric of my dress, "then I will
make you have an accident. And then you will get 8 more demerits, and
then you will be further indebted and you'll be forced to stay, working
a servant girl, working for your lady, for two more days."
"My Lady..." I said, my head swirling.
Mrs. Roberts gently rubbed her finger back and forth, causing jolts of
pleasure to shoot through me as her motions went through the fake nipple
and directly into my own which had been sucked deep into the fake
breasts.
"So now, Miss Clarke, it is time for you to make a choice. Certainly not
your first choice here in the Robert's household, and it will certainly
not be your last! And we both know exactly what this choice really
means, don't we? If you just stand up, if you have the willpower, then
you are asserting your independence, your sense of self, as a strong,
independent individual in control of his own destiny."
"But if I don't stand up?" I asked tremulously.
Mrs. Roberts held my head in her hands and kissed me, deeply, her tongue
questing into my mouth as I kissed her back, sitting in her lap and in
her arms, whimpering under the onslaught.
"If you stay," she whispered into my ear, "then that means you
surrender, doesn't it? You surrender your will, your independence, your
individuality, your sense of self -- you give all of that to me, to do
with as I wish. You surrender your will to mine. You will have no
thought for yourself. Your only thought will be how you can better serve
your lady. You are no longer an individual, but instead become my
_property_ to do with as I wish, and to give to whomsoever I wish to
give you to. And yes, if you stay, you will be used, and abused, and
humiliated, and you will work hard, all in the service of your lady...
and Denise, of course... and this household. That's what happens if you
stay," she said.
"Oh," I said, not knowing what else to say.
"Now I'm going to start counting. And if you are still in my lap when I
reach ten, then I think we both know exactly what decision you've made,
and exactly what kind of person you are, don't we?"
"Uh..."
"One."
Oh my god, I thought to myself, what am I going to do?
"Two."
What about my Ph.D.? It was almost finished! I should be working on
that. I just need to stand up, to get off her lap! Do it, do it now!!
"Three."
But it would only be a few more days, right? If I could just control
myself and stop those accidents, then I might get out of here...
"Four."
And it wasn't true what Mrs. Roberts said, was it? I would never truly
surrender my will to hers, would I?
"Five."
But here I was, in a dress, panties, stockings and a bra. And here I had
just agreed to be her maid...
"Six."
Her Lady's Maid, no less. Her personal servant. Her servant _girl_.
"Seven."
I've got to leave! I've really just got to get up and walk out of here.
I was starting to panic.
"Eight."
Right now. Just get up and go. Just go. Just do it. She gave you the
choice, just take it!!
"Nine."
And as the last moments slipped away, I felt a sinking in my heart, as
if shackles had been placed on my arms and legs and around my neck, and
firmly clicked shut. A sinking feeling that I had been given an
opportunity for freedom, and now it was slipping away.
"Ten."
Mrs. Roberts smiled.
"I'm so glad you decided to stay," she said, as she began to stroke me
with one hand while pinching my nipples with the other. "And now for
your reward! I have a new outfit for you to wear. Madam Gounod made it
for just for you. And do you know what it is?"
"No, My Lady," I said, squirming once again under her ministrations.
"Are you _sure_ you don't know?" she asked again, teasingly, her fingers
bringing me closer and closer to the edge.
"No, My Lady, I don't know," I said, truthfully.
"Well, let me give you a hint. What are you now? How do you identify
yourself?"
"I... I am a maid, My Lady," I said, suddenly realizing.
"That's right. You are a maid. _My_ maid. A lady's maid. And what does a
maid wear?"
"A uniform," I said, in a hushed voice.
"That's right," Mrs. Roberts said, evilly. "Maids wear uniforms. You are
a maid, therefore, you will now start wearing a maid's uniform. Won't
that be nice? Your clothes will show your status to the world, and will
identify to everyone who sees you exactly what you are, and exactly what
is your purpose in life."
"A maid's uniform..."
"That's right," she continued. "A maid. A servant. A girl whose entire
job is to serve others and _obey_ her lady and the guests of the
household. A servant who will have to do all of the other menial and
humiliating tasks that no one else wants to do. A personal servant to
the lady and her charge."
"Oh! Oh! My Lady!" I gasped, tensing my body and submitting completely
to Mrs. Roberts. "Ohhhh...!"
Mrs. Roberts pulled me into a tight hug and stroked my back until I
settled down.
"Oh dear," she said, teasingly. "It looks like we have had another
accident?"
"Yes, My Lady," I mumbled softly. "It looks like I have. I'm sorry that
I have so little control."
"Well, I didn't make it easy on you, did I? Regardless, you know what
happens now. Stand up and bend over for your spanking."
"Spanking! But no!"
"Now Miss Clarke, what did I say?"
"No matter the cause..." I sighed.
"That's right. And that's 8 more demerits - your total is now 40!
Goodness, you are racking them up at a frightful pace. At this rate,
you'll never work them off!"
Chapter 8:
After my spanking, delivered on a bare bottom with my panties down and
skirt tucked up, Mrs. Roberts instructed me to clean myself up and
change into my Maid's Uniform, which was waiting for me in my closet.
"Already in my closet, My Lady?" I asked, surprised.
"Yes, Miss Clarke. I placed it there earlier. It seems that I know you
better than you know yourself."
After getting undressed, I took a moment to freshen up. Inserting a
finger under the breast forms I was able to release the suction, remove
the forms, and massage my poor abused chest and nipples before re-
applying the sensitizing lubricant and replacing them into my new bra.
My bra.
I sat down on the bed, in shock at all that had occurred today. From man
to woman to serving girl, all in the space of a day, and the day wasn't
even over yet! How had I let this happen?
'_It's not like you objected that strenuously_,' said a little voice
inside my head.
But I'm not like this, I told myself. I don't wear women's clothing. And
being a maid??
'_But here you are, in bra, stockings, and panties,_' said the voice.
But that's only because I didn't have other clothes to wear, and Miss
Denise and Mrs. Roberts seemed so _insistent_, and I couldn't say no...
'_Be honest, you could have stopped them at any time,_' said the voice.
I suppose, I agreed, feeling miserable. Where is my backbone? Why didn't
I stand up for myself?
'So then, why are you allowing yourself to be treated like this? Why are
you submitting to them?' asked the voice.
Growing up, my parents were both University professors, and they just
seemed to assume that I would grow up to get my PhD and do academic
research. And honestly, I didn't have any opinion one way or the other.
I was good, or good enough, anyway, at all of those classical liberal
arts subjects that I could have done anything I wanted, really. And here
I was writing my dissertation in Literary Criticism on the works of an
obscure 19th century author, but what will my research really
accomplish?
All my life I'd been the shy boy who would hide and read, rather than
play with friends. I was a 23 year old virgin, with nearly zero
experience with girls. A year ago I finally worked up the courage to ask
one out, but couldn't get the words out. I avoided her the rest of the
semester. Sure, my papers were well researched, and I got straight A's
but it's easy when that's all you do.
And now here I am, trapped between two strong women, being used as their
play thing.
All my life I desperately wanted to be with a girl, to be close to
girls, to touch them, to kiss them. Being an only child, and growing up
without playmates, meant I had terminal awkwardness. Before Miss Denise,
I had never even held hands with anyone other than my mother, or the
school nurse.
I did once steal a pair of my mother's panties and bras, and masturbated
while rubbing the smooth fabric against my face, smelling her womanly
scent and imagining myself with a girlfriend on a date.
But I had never, ever envisioned myself dressing in women's clothing.
And I never, ever, thought that someone forcing me to dress in women's
clothing. That would have been as likely, in my mind, as being abducted
by aliens and forced to copulate with their queen.
'_So what's your answer?,_' said the voice.
I thought back to that moment when Miss Denise first placed the ruffled
panties into my hands and that first kiss I received from Mrs. Roberts.
Squirming and trying to control myself as the three ladies fondled my
breasts in the living room. About sitting on Mrs. Roberts' lap as she
played with me, forcing me to decide my fate at her hands.
"I don't know!" I said out loud, bursting into tears. "I just don't
know!"
* * *
After my little melt down, I was able to clean myself up and think more
rationally. I still didn't know what was happening to me, or why I was
just letting it happen, but I decided to be the best servant I could
possibly be, to work off these demerits as quickly as possible.
So I found the maid's uniform in the closet and put it on. It was a
simple modern maid's uniform, black, with a skirt that went down to the
knee. The color and sleeves were trimmed tastefully in white lace. It
looked like any other modern-day housekeeping uniform you might see at
any fancy hotel, just dressed up a bit.
Along with the uniform were some black pumps with a 2-inch heel and a
white apron, also trimmed in a modest amount of lace, which hung down
from the waist.
Just then I heard a bell.
It was the bell from Miss Denise's room! I quickly double-checked my
makeup and hair and hurried over.
"Miss Clarke!" Miss Denise asked, eyes wide. "What are you... why are
you dressed like that?"
She was dressed in a light navy colored chiffon wrap dress, with tiers
of fabric for her bodice and pleats of chiffon for the skirt. She looked
absolutely ravishing.
"Your Mother... I mean, uh... Mrs. Roberts..." I sighed and took a deep
breath. "I mean, _My Lady_," I said, wincing in embarrassment, "that is,
your mother, Mrs. Roberts, has... uh... offered me additional work
around the house to help work off my demerits."
"That's wonderful!" exclaimed Denise, clapping in delight. "Mother needs
so much help since she fired her last maid last week..."
"Fired...?"
"... and I'm sure you'll be perfect! Oh, I think this is absolutely
wonderful! And you look so smart! That uniform really suits you. Like
you were born to wear it! Born to be a maid!"
She giggled helplessly, not noticing how her words affected me. I wasn't
born to be a maid. I'm a graduate student! Right?
"I... yes... I guess..." I mumbled, blushing with humiliation.
"But never mind that. Could you do my zipper? We're dressing up nice for
a formal dinner with Mrs. Gounod."
"Of course, Miss Denise," I said.
"But wait!" she halted me just as I was reaching for the zipper. "You're
not going to charge me for this, are you?"
"Charge you?" I asked, confused.
"You know, in demerits. I mean, I won't have to ask Mom to reduce your
demerits just because you helped me to zip up my dress, will I?"
"No, of course not!" I said, actually offended that I she would think I
might be so petty.
"Oh good," she said. "You are such a sweetie to be so devoted and
generous with your time." Denise gave me a quick peck on the cheek,
causing my knees to buckle. "But what about all those other things you
do for me?"
"Other things, Miss Denise?" I stared at her, stupidly.
"Oh you know, like combing my hair..."
"Oh, well..."
"... and picking up my room, and doing my laundry, and things like that.
Do I have to pay you for all those things? I mean, we're friends,
right?"
Miss Denise put an arm around my waist and pulled me close.
"You do those things just because you want to, don't you? Because you're
my devoted friend, right? I mean, that's what you told mother, wasn't
it? You do enjoy being with me, don't you?"
"Of course I do! I love being with you...."
"Of course you do, and I love being with you too! I'm sure we can just
be the best friends forever! Or sisters. Or something... even more. And
I don't want anything - you know - financial, or like payments, or
anything like that between us. Do you?"
"No, of course not, Miss Denise."
"Exactly. We just do things for each other because we're BFFs, isn't
that right? If I need anything from you, you'll help me out, right?"
I looked into her eyes which were warm and friendly and felt my heart
tug in her direction.
"Of course, Miss Denise."
"And if I need you to do something, or if I just ask you to do something
for me, you'll do it, right? Just because you want to, right? I mean,
just because you... you're... you know... so devoted to me, isn't that
right?"
"Oh Miss Denise," I said, giving in easily and not caring what I was
doing anymore, just wanting to be close to such a wonderful person.
"Yes, absolutely."
"I knew it. I could tell that we had something special between us. But
how devoted are you?"
"What do you mean?"
"I guess I never really asked you, I mean, do you want to be friends? I
just assumed--"
"Yes!" I said, surprised at the feeling of joy which suddenly surged
through me. "Of course I want to be friends! Best friends!"
"Oh, yay! I'm so happy! Because I want to be friends too. The best,
closest, deepest friends any two people in our relative positions can
be. Devoted friends."
"Oh yes, very devoted," I said, my skin tingling.
Well, would you do just anything for me? Anything at all? At any time of
the day or night, just because I asked? Just because you're so devoted
to me?"
"Of course I would!" I added, with enthusiasm. "I mean we just met, but
already I feel --"
"-- I know! Such a connection! Like you've always been a part of the
household."
"Yes!"
"So then it's okay if I ask you to do all those things? You know, pick
up my room, do my laundry, brush my hair, all those things. It won't
bother you if I ask you to do them? And you'll do them for no other
reason than because you want to? For me?"
I looked at Miss Denise, on one level understanding exactly what I was
agreeing to, but on another level not caring - just wanting to prove my
devotion to her, just wanting to be her friend and to be close to her.
"Of course, Miss Denise," I said simply. "I... I mean, of course I
will."
"You are the best," she said hugging me, her look one of shared
understanding. "Just simply the best."
I smiled in pleasure at her compliment. "So are you," I said.
"Oh, this is going to be so much fun!! You! You are going to be so much
fun! Now zip me up, and then Mother told me to send you to the kitchen
to get things ready while we entertain our Madam Gounod."
* * *
Dinner was a new experience, yet another in this strange and wonderful
land. My maid's uniform was comfortable, but with my half-slip, bra,
garters, stockings, and panties I felt constantly surrounded and
caressed by femininity. And of course my breasts, large and pendulous,
every step meant they tugged at me, making me acutely aware that I was
posing as a woman, and an overly well-endowed one at that.
Dinner was provided by a chef at a local restaurant, _thank god_, so all
I really had to do was set the table, unpack and plate the food, and
serve Miss Denise, My Lady, and Madam Gounod.
And so I sat, waiting for the bell. Doing nothing. When it rang, I would
hop up, take a breath, and walk into the dining room, my breasts
bouncing, sometimes painfully. Mrs. Roberts - "My Lady" as I was now
thinking of her - would provide instructions and I would fulfill them as
quickly and efficiently as possible. It was a new experience for me, not
having to think about anything more than how to provide a pleasant meal
for the ladies.
It was odd, though, being treated like a servant.
I mean, that's what I was, of course, a serving girl, serving at the
pleasure of her mistress. I understood my place, or at least I thought I
did.
But it felt weird to be ignored as the ladies chatted gaily about Miss
Denise's plans for college, or local politics, or Madam Gounod's plans
for expanding her business, as I filled drinks or dished out soup all
the while saying "My Lady", or "Miss" or "Madam". After having such
focused attention from all three of them, it was strange to be
completely ignored and treated as if I was property. Not exactly taken
for granted, but certainly not included.
But once I got used to it, I discovered to my surprise that I was
enjoying myself. I could listen without having to contribute. I didn't
have to think up something clever to say. Serving the meal was a lot
more relaxing, if I were honest with myself, than any dinner party I had
ever attended as a guest.
"Miss Clarke?" Mrs. Roberts asked, just as dinner was finishing up.
"Yes, My Lady?" I stopped and faced her.
"That was very well done," she said, her praise causing me to blush with
satisfaction.
"Here, here!" added Miss Denise.
"And I especially want to compliment you on all of the little touches
you added. Like the greenery on the table, the candles, and the napkin
folding."
"Oh, well..."
"I want you to know that your efforts are appreciated, and how
wonderfully well we all believe you are fitting in - as a maid - to the
Roberts household."
Fitting in? As a maid?
"Thank you, My Lady."
Chapter 9:
"Here is your tea, Madam."
"Thank you, my dear. Please, bring it here."
Madam Gounod was sitting up in bed, dressed in a delicate ivory colored
night gown, trimmed in lace.
"Come, sit next to me," she said, patting the bed.
Reaching into her night stand, Madam Gounod extracted a silver flask,
unscrewed the cap, and poured a generous portion of the contents into
the tea.
"Bourbon," Madam Gounod gave me a sly grin. "Close your eyes and open
wide and I'll give you a taste."
Madam Gounod placed something in my mouth.
"Now close your mouth and suck," she commanded.
To my surprise, I found myself sucking on her index finger, which tasted
of tea and had a sharp, alcoholic, charcoal taste of what I assumed was
bourbon.
"That's a good girl," said Madam Gounod purred. I whimpered in reflex as
she began to sensuously pump the finger in and out of my mouth, turning
the whole procedure into an intimate sex act. "Now open up and I'll give
you some more. Celine is so lucky to have found you."
"Mmm-mm?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I meant Mrs. Roberts. Celine Roberts. Your Lady. Three
generations back they named all of their children starting with A,
Annabelle, Abigail, Alice, and so on, and so the tradition continued.
All of Mrs. Roberts siblings' names start with C, and Miss Denise and
both of her sisters, Danielle and Donna, have names that start with 'D'.
Now open up again."
Madam Gounod dipped her finger in the tea and placed it back in my
mouth.
"Suck on my finger... that's a good girl. Your mouth is so pretty! Why,
if you were mine I would keep you all to myself, hidden away and dressed
all in frills and lace, you are so delicious!"
Feeling something at my chest, I opened my eyes and looked down.
"Madam!" I said, shocked, pulling away. Madam Gounod had opened up the
top two buttons of my uniform!
"Miss Clarke!" she responded swiftly and harshly. "Did I say you could
open your eyes? I see that sterner measures are required. If you have
not the discipline to keep your eyes closed by yourself, then additional
measures will be required."
Madam Gounod put the tea cup aside and reached under the covers to
extract a delicate pair of satin and lace panties, and a single
stocking. She folded the panties several times lengthwise.
"Now hold still," she commanded, placing the panties across my eyes as a
blindfold, she used the stocking to hold it firmly in place and tied it
behind my head. They must have been the panties she had worn all day,
because the smell that surrounded me was of female flesh, sweat, and
other pungent womanly odors.
"Now that takes care of the eyes. Can I trust you to keep your hands to
yourself?" she asked.
"Madam... I --" I started to object.
"I see that the answer is 'no'. But no problem. We can take care of
those as well."
Madam pulled my arms behind me. I felt her wrap something soft around my
wrists, most likely the other stocking. After a couple of times around,
she cinched it by wrapping the stocking between my wrists and then tied
it off.
"There, trussed up safe and sound," she said, turning me to face her.
"Like a present. A present _pour moi_."
I tried to slip my hands from the bondage but there was no give
whatsoever. Clearly Madam Gounod was an expert.
"Now where were we?" she asked, sweetly. "_Ah oui_. Undoing these
troublesome buttons."
Madam Gounod continued to undo the buttons on my uniform until she had
reached my waist. She pushed the uniform and my half-slip off of my
shoulders, exposing my chest, clad in a lacy bra. Ohhing and Ahhing, she
then started to roughly grope them, causing the suction in the breast
forms to pull my flesh deeper into its clutching embrace.
I whimpered and twisted around, trying to escape her evil hands, my
penis now fully hard.
"Oh, you are such a darling," Madam Gounod said. "So innocent, so shy,
so inexperienced in the ways of the world and the ways of the strong
lady of position. Never lose your innocence, _ma chèrie_. Be always
naive and trusting, and you will delight many, many ladies who live to
defile young ones like yourself."
She chuckled wickedly, flicking and pinching my nipples as I twitched
and fussed.
"And so sensitive!" she cooed. "So delicious! I could play with you all
day long."
"Madam..."
"Shush... sh-sh-sh-sh," she hushed me. "Little girls do not talk unless
spoken to!" I felt her lips against mine and soon she was kissing me in
earnest, her arms wrapped tightly around me, her tongue thrusting and
exploring deep into my mouth.
"Mmmm!!" I moaned at the violation.
"Would you like to taste something new? Of course you would!
_Naturellement_! All little girls love to put things into their mouths.
Here, I can give you something new, for certain..."
I heard a rustling of the bedcovers.
"Open wide. And now... suck," Madam instructed.
My mouth filled with a sharp, warm, buttery, tangy flavor. Slowly she
began thrusting her finger in and out of my mouth. With her other hand,
she reached under my skirts.
"_Ma petite fille_ is excited, no?" she asked, rhetorically, groping my
hard penis. I wanted desperately to push her away, but all I could do
was struggle against my bonds and twist back and forth.
"_Ma fifille_ must like this new taste! Do you know what it is?" Madam
Gounod asked.
"Nnn, nnhh."
"It is my taste. My womanly taste."
"Nnnnn!!" I exclaimed, shocked.
"Here, let me get you some more," she said, wickedly, "since you seem to
like it so much. I have plenty here to give you! Open your mouth!"
"Nnn-nnnhh!!!" I said, tearing up, feeling trapped as Madam thrust two
fingers into my mouth. She must have used them as a scoop, because her
slimy, female essence filled my mouth. The flood of sensations, smell,
taste, touch, threatening to overwhelm me.
"The taste is exciting, no? Here, let me get you some more..." Madam's
fingers pulled away, returning moments later, freshly coated.
"Ahhh, _ma petite chèrie_ is so excited!" she said, stroking my hard
member with her free hand. "Careful that you do not lose control..." she
said, now pinching the tip of my penis, causing me to growl in
desperation. "Your mistress Roberts told me of your arrangement! I
certainly hope you don't have an accident..."
Madam Gounod continued to tease me, both orally and with fondling,
pushing me closer and closer to the edge. But just as I was about to
reach the point of no return she stopped.
"On your knees," she said, huskily, pushing me off the bed. "There, down
there, on your knees, facing me."
I knelt, facing the bed, my breasts pressed into the mattress, my hands
still firmly tied behind my back, my eyes still covered with the
blindfold made from her used panties.
I felt Madam moving around on the bed, adjusting the bed covers. Soon, I
felt her legs slip around my head, the silky skin of her inner thighs
against my cheek.
"Yesss...." she hissed, scooting herself forward. Her legs now draped
down my back and pulled me closer, her nightgown falling down and
creating a silky nylon and lace tent around me.
"Come here..." she inched forward. I felt the hairs of her pubic mound
brush across my face, leaving delicate wet trails. The smell of her sex
was overwhelming. Musky, womanly, and intoxicating.
"Kiss me," she commanded.
"Madam!" I said, shocked.
"Kiss me! Now!" she commanded fiercely.
I had never kissed a woman 'down there' before in my life. I had never
even seen a woman's sex in person before, and now here I was,
blindfolded! I found the wet lips of her womanhood and gave it a gentle
kiss.
"Ohh!" She cried out, arcing her pelvis forward, pushing her sex firmly
into my face. "Again! Harder!"
I kissed her again, this time more confidently. I had no idea if I was
kissing the right spot or not. The folds of her sex smeared her
emissions wetly over my face.
"Now with tongue..." she said, the intensity of passion in her voice
scaring me. "Now!" she said, forcing us together with her heels on my
back.
I pressed my face forward and opened my mouth, my tongue gently probing,
exploring, trying desperately to figure out what I was supposed to do.
Everything was so soft, warm and wet, I could barely tell what I was
feeling.
"Yessss..." she hissed as I finally found the entrance to her vagina.
"Deeper!!"
I thrust my tongue in as far as it could go, pressing my face deeply
into her crotch. I held my breath for as long as I could, feeling Madam
tense and jerk beneath me.
"Now, hurry," she instructed. "Lick me. But higher. Higher! No, higher!
Yes... yes! THERE!"
My tongue had found a pocket in her wet, fleshy labia. Sensing that this
might be the clitoris I had heard about (but had never touched until
now!) I licked it as aggressively as I could. Madam bucked, groaned, and
with a shout reached her orgasm.
"Stop moving!" she commanded. Reaching down, she pushed my head down and
locked her legs together, mashing her sex into my face. "Don't move!"
After a few moments, she gradually began thrusting her pelvis again,
rubbing her pussy across my face and finally giving me an opportunity
for a quick breath. This continued for a while, her motions becoming
faster and more aggressive until she had her second orgasm, this time
with her legs wrapped tight around my head, her whole body twitching and
spasming.
"Oh my god..." Madam flopped down onto the bed, exhausted, her body
still shuddering and twitching in the throes of pleasure. "Oh, _ma
chèrie_," she added in a dreamy voice, "it has been too long. Far too
long."
There was nothing I could do as Madam settled down. I was still on my
knees, my hands still tied behind my back, eyes still blindfolded with
her used panties, and with her legs still wrapped around my head, my
face still pressed hard against her. Sweat dripped down my face from the
heat that had built up inside her nightgown as I took breaths saturated
with her most intimate smells.
"Clean me," Madam instructed. "Use your tongue and mouth, very slowly
and very gently, and clean me up down there."
She paused.
"And swallow it all," she added, wickedly.
I did my best to lick and suck up all of the fluids in her crotch and
swallow them, trying not to think too hard on what I was doing. In the
process, I think I gave Madam another small orgasm, as her legs suddenly
clamped around my head for a second or two before relaxing again.
"Very good..." she sighed.
Madam Gounod sat up and lifted herself off me. She pulled me up from the
floor and sat me down next to her, pulling off the blindfold and then
using the panties to dry off my face before discarding them to the side,
leaving my hands bound.
"Such a good servant girl you are, Miss Clarke. Did you enjoy yourself?"
"Uh..." I had no idea how to answer.
"Confused, Miss Clarke? Don't know if you enjoyed yourself or not? Not
certain if you liked being trapped between the legs of a horny older
lady, forced to lick her pussy?"
Madam pulled me up so that I was sitting on her lap, her arms wrapped
around me.
"It seems your passions are still aroused," she said, reaching down with
one hand to grasp my achingly hard penis. "How about a test? I will
whisper all sorts of wicked, humiliating things into your ear as I
stroke your love button. _Oui_? And then, if you have an accident, then
we will both know the truth, agreed?"
"Madam," I tried to object, "I don't..."
"Like this," Madam added, wrapping a hand around my hard penis and
stroking it through the slippery nylon of my slip and panties.
"Oh, Madam!" I gasped. "Please, no!" If I had an accident, that would
mean 8 more demerits! I must maintain control! I can not afford to get
any further into debt!
"No? _Mais ma chère_, it will be such fun! A little game _pour deux_,
no? Now let's see, just one more rule: You must answer 'Oui, Madame!'
to all my questions. Do you understand? You do? Okay, let's begin!"
"But Madame!" I tried feebly to extricate myself from her clutches, but
Madam Gounod just pulled me in closer, placing her other hand on my
breast where it began to pinch my nipples through that terrible, awful
breast form. "Please, Madame, let me go!" I begged.
"First question," she said, ignoring me. "Do you enjoy being sexually
violated by older ladies in position of power like _moi_ ?"
"Madame..." I protested.
"You must answer only 'Oui, Madame!' Those are the only words you are
allowed to say."
"But Madame..."
"No buts! This is the game! If you answer 'Oui, Madame' and if it is a
lie, then your... how shall we say... Ardor? Passion? It will be cooled,
no? But, _mon ami_ if it is the truth, then we will know because your
passion - it will be further inflamed! And so your love button will be
our truth meter, do you see?"
I had to admit her logic made sense. If what I said was a lie, I would
know it, right? The only problem was that her hands were fast pushing me
to the edge. I wasn't entirely certain that I would be control myself,
no matter how outrageous her questions became.
"Oui, Madame," I responded, hesitantly.
"Très bien! Now again, do you enjoy being violated, molested and abused
by older ladies in position of power, _comme moi_ ?"
"Oui, Madame."
"Again, _mademoiselle_. But this time with more enthusiasm!"
"Oui, Madame!" I said, trying my best.
"_Excellemment_," Madam Gounod grinned, stroking hard on my penis
causing my toes to curl. "Now, what is it you love so much about these
powerful ladies? Do you enjoy being under their _firm_ and _unyielding_
control?"
"Oui, Madame!"
"Really? Does that mean you would like for us to control you even
further?"
"Oui, Madame!"
"Quite remarkable! Are you actually saying that you want Madam Roberts
to take full control of your life? To tell you what to do, how to serve,
who to please, and... who to love... every moment of your life? Is that
what you want most of all? More than anything else in the world?"
"Uh..." her questions were making me sweat. What was I agreeing to here?
"Mademoiselle Clark...?" Madam Gounod cautioned.
"Oui, Madam," I finally said. Then "Oui, Madame!" with the required
amount of enthusiasm.
"Ah, my poor, poor darling," Madam Gounod whispered into my ear, her hot
breath making me shiver. "I am sad to say that your love button - it
does not lie! You are telling me the truth."
"No...!" I tried to break free, but Madam Gounod was stronger and her
raw confidence kept me trapped.
"So you enjoy being a maid?" she asked.
"Oui, Madame!" I said.
"And you enjoy being dressed up as a girl?"
"Oui, Madame!"
"Really? So you enjoy wearing frilly panties, and silky things, and
sheer stockings?"
"Oui, Madam!" I was breathing hard by this point, trying desperately to
control myself.
"And dresses? And makeup? Do you enjoy making yourself beautiful for
others? As a young woman?"
"Oui, Madame!" Would this ever end??
"And do you want to wear feminine things forever?"
Oh my god... What was I going to say?
"Uh... Ou...Oui, Madame. Madame!"
"And so then you shall. Because it is obvious to me, your love button
has told me, that this is the truth! You are telling the truth,
Mademoiselle Clarke! Do you see now, how this is the truth?"
"But Madame..."
"Say it!"
Oh god...
"Oui, Madame!
"And you enjoy serving powerful ladies such as Madam Roberts and
Mademoiselle Denise?"
"Oui, Madame!"
"And do you want to serve them forever, as their devoted maid, to do
with as they wish?"
"Oh...! Oh...!"
Twitching, I climaxed in her arms, my poor tender penis spurting into
her hand.
* * *
"It will be our little secret," Madam Gounod said after giving me my
spanking.
I sat on my tender buns, sniffling. Madam Gounod really did give the
hardest spankings.
"Oh, I'll have to tell Mrs. Roberts about your 'accident',
_naturellement_. And yes, that means eight more demerits. How many is
that now?"
"Forty eight," I mumbled, dejected.
"Goodness! How many days will it take to work off that many demerits, I
wonder?"
"Twelve."
"Twelve! _Merde_! That is so many, no? Oh, how I wish I could be here to
watch your torment - but _C'est la vie_, I must return to my business
tomorrow morning. But know this, _ma chèrie_, your secret is safe with
me."
"My secret?"
"Our game. I will not tell anyone about our game."
"Thank you, Madam."
"You do not believe me?" Madam looked at me in surprise.
"Madam..." I hesitated.
"Well then, let me tell you a secret of mine." Madam Gounod's face
softened, and she looked at me with a wry smile. "I'm not actually from
France," she said, shifting her voice lower and into a different accent.
"Madam!" I looked at her, shocked.
"No, it's true. I'm from America. From a little town in the middle.
Surprised?"
"But... but..."
"Turns out, my products sell better if my patrons think I'm French. And
so I spent some time in France, picked up the accent, and here I am,
pretending to be French and selling lingerie, breast forms and sex toys
made with good old American ingenuity."
"A little too good," I said, holding my breasts.
"I know, they're wicked, aren't they? I'd say that you'll get used to it
- but that wouldn't be the truth, at least not according to my test
subjects," Madam laughed. "And you and I, we will always be honest with
each other, agreed?"
"Yes, Madam," I said. "I... I promise. I will always be honest with
you."
"Completely, one hundred percent honest? You will never hold anything
back?"
"Yes, Madam. And I will keep your secret."
"Good. And I will keep yours, though I dare say everyone knows it
already," Madam grinned.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked.
Madam put her hands on my face and pulled me into a wet kiss on the
lips. After a second's hesitation, I opened my mouth and let her take
advantage of me.
"You'll see," she said, smiling.
* * *
That night I lay in bed, shell shocked.
I had just come from picking up Miss Denise's things, brushing her hair,
and putting her to bed. Mrs. Roberts, seeing that I was completely
drained by the long day, bade me to go right to bed.
How had this happened? This morning I was an independent, highly
educated graduate student just a few weeks from completing his
doctorate.
And now I am a maid.
Everything happened so quickly I almost couldn't piece it all together.
I was serving breakfast...
Oh jeez. I had already been serving as a maid at breakfast! I just
hadn't been wearing the uniform. I had been wearing... what had I been
wearing?
Oh, right. A nightgown and a robe which Mrs. Roberts had insisted I wear
because I didn't have pajamas of my own.
I sighed. It all felt so _hopeless_ and _predetermined_, as if there had
never been any doubt. I wonder what would have happened if I had brought
a change of clothes in the car, and maybe some pajamas? The
advertisement had been for a 'full time individual tutor', but I never
in a million years thought that I might get trapped, a virtual prisoner,
and forced to work as a servant girl.
'It wouldn't have made a difference,' said a little voice in my head.
'Mrs. Roberts would have found some other way. She would have thrown
them out, or they would have gotten dirty, or your car might have been
stolen with all your things inside...'
'Or maybe she would have just asked you,' the little voice in my head
said.
Just asked me?
'As in, Miss Clarke, would you please hand over all of your male clothes
so I can destroy them? And then you will be forced to wear women's
clothing for the rest of your stay here. Would you do that for me?'
Would I have done that? Just given her my clothes to destroy? Just
because she asked for them?
No, of course not.... I writhed and tossed and turned in bed, the nylon
nightgown getting all twisted around my legs.
'Admit it, you would have...' said the little voice in my head. 'That's
why you haven't really protested their treatment of you. That's why you
keep doing what they tell you to do, and that's why you keep having all
these accidents!'
No! I groaned. I can't be true! I refuse! My parents are both chaired
academic professors. They raised me to be a critical thinker on
literature and the human condition. I received a top scholarship from a
prestigious university.
There is no way I was destined to be a maid!
I was meant to be a contributor to our world's pool of intellectual
thought. A purveyor of ideas and insightful observations on art and
culture.
I was not meant to be a servant! I was not meant to curtsey and say
"Yes, My Lady" and "Yes, Miss Denise" and then just do as I'm told.
'Are you saying that maids are inferior?' the voice in my head asked.
No... of course not. No human being is inferior to another.
'But some have power and wealth and can control others...'
And others don't have power, or freedom, and have to obey orders... I
said to myself.
'And which do you want to be?' asked the voice.
I couldn't answer.
'Be honest with yourself.'
I hate you, I grumbled. I don't want to talk about this anymore.
Fortunately, sheer exhaustion took over and soon I was deep asleep.
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The posts are stories that I found elsewhere on internet. This is an attempt to put all the good ones at one place.
Posts
Great post ...enjoyed each bit of it.....Please keep sharing this type of post.....
ReplyDeleteLordy!, that was an inspiring story. I was lost in the total roused state from reading it
DeleteIndeed so. A marvelous tale. My only regret is that it had to end at all. .... sigh!
ReplyDeletePeter
A wonderful story - just perfect! Let's have some more like this fantastic tale!
ReplyDeleteLG x
What a great story, " Panties or Demerits" you make the call? I can't believe he let these women turned him into a sexy woman? " ha " ha Patricia.
ReplyDeleteI love this story. I'm a fan of forced feminization, but it can be somewhat difficult to find stories within that genre that push the right buttons for me. This does and then some. Besides being quite erotic, I appreciate the level of introspection the author allows the protagonist as well as the fact that, while being rather domineering and manipulative, the female characters are not painted as uncaring. Ultimately, they're doing what they believe "Miss Clarke" really wants, even if if he- or "she"- is not willing to fully admit it, even to himself... or "herself." I am glad the titular tutor does not embrace his new role without reservations. If a victim is too willing, it takes all the fun out of it for me as a reader.
ReplyDeleteI'm very happy to report that RH Music has written a second part to this story. It can be found on fictionmania.tv. http://fictionmania.tv/stories/readtextstory.html?storyID=136729302233349964
Thank you rocketdave for the update. Would post once I finish reading it.
ReplyDelete