Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Fashion’SlaveFashion’s SlaveIt was the night of the presentation of our tenth couture show in Paris. Our company NIARTSER FASHION was not a big one, but we had grown steadily little by little and the number of the special kind of people that appreciated our art had grown and now people were coming from all over the world to see our presentations, which — like at the big couturiers and the “pret-a-porter”-houses — were held twice yearly. Actually we were more in accord with the timing of the “pret-a-porter”-houses, because our clientele liked to have their orders made to measure. Showing the fall/winter fashions in the spring and the spring/summer collection in the fall gave us the time necessary to fill all orders before the season started without having to employ a large work-force. We were a very well organized little group and — I believe — a unique one.For the celebration of the tenth collection or our fifth anniversary we had prepared a big party and sent out invitations to all of our customers. In contrast to all the other Paris fashion presentations there was no press allowed — our customers preferred to remain among themselves. The whole affair had more or less the atmosphere of a private party. Even the models themselves were customers.As the co-owner of the company you would expect me to act as the master of ceremonies or in a similar position — however, here I was immovably posted as a mannequin upon a pedestal among a row of very natural looking dummies all displaying in a retrospective the most popular models of our previous collections. I was wearing a very elegant evening ensemble, a gown with a high-waisted, skin tight skirt of black taffeta and a top in the form of a sphere starting at the lower ribs, leaving the shoulders bare, made of a sparkling, silvery, metallic looking material. My hair was swept up into a delicate arrangement of ribbons and curls, long dangling rhinestone pendants almost touching my shoulders were inserted into my ears and sparkled in competition with a flashing rhinestone choker just over 3 inches wide that tightly circled my throat and made me hold my head very high. Just below the knees the skirt seemed to merge into a bouffant wealth of the same silvery material that encased my upper torso.I projected the picture of an exquisitely coiffed and extravagantly dressed lady about to enter an elegant ballroom, pausing for a moment in front of a mirror to check her appearance before making her great entrance at the arm of her escort.However, the outward appearance belied the truth: the skin tight taffeta skirt continued underneath to below my ankles and prevented any movement of my legs. There actually were two zippers which — when opened — would have allowed me to take small, mincing steps, but now they were closed and my legs were securely tied by the skirt.Oh and, of course, my arms: they were tightly folded on my back, hands facing outward close to my neck and the elbows laced into special pockets at the upper end of my corset which tightly encased me from breasts to thighs. The choker, the corset, the tight skirt, and the extremely high heels on my shoes really made all movements impossible. My makeup reflected and continued the static theme: it had a waxy texture and looked absolutely artificial in its glamorous perfection. The whole picture was that of an elaborate life-sized doll, like a display at a wax museum.This ensemble precisely portrayed our specialty: High fashion that restrained the wearer to the utmost without being directly noticeable. Actually the company name spelled this out quite clearly if you read it backwards. We had a lot of male (and lesbian female) clients who bought our dresses and other items for their girlfriends and wives who liked this kind of bondage, but we also had an almost equal number of women (and men) who liked to cross-dress and enslave their male partners in our finery just as I had been ensnared and subsequently enslaved by Sylvia, my wife and partner in the business.Just before the first guests arrived, Sylvia had observed, that I tended to follow the actions in the room with my eyes and what little movements of my head were allowed by the Rhinestone choker. Of course, I could not comment on them, as my mouth was kept shut by the intricate little mechanism which Sylvia had had our dentist install on my back teeth and which locked my teeth tightly together over a plastic gag that exactly filled the cavity of my mouth and held my tongue down. But the movement of my eyes and my head in her opinion disturbed the picture of the motionless doll that I was to portray because it made my pendants swing a little and send sparkles through the room. To end this, she inserted a pair of lenses into my eyes with blackened pupils which effectively blinded me without being noticeable by any onlooker. And not being one for half measures, she inserted little wax- balls into my ears which almost completely cut off my hearing.As you can see, she had the power to give me freedom as and when she deemed fit. She could open the restricting zippers in my skirt and lead me around with my vision and hearing still severely checked, or ungag me and let me have a drink and again restrain my legs with the skirt wherever she wanted to leave me. She could unplug my ears and let me hear the conversation around — and probably about — me while not being able to see who was talking and not being able to take part because of the invisible gag. There was no way however that I could sit down because of the long corset and my arms could not be released until the corset was taken off. I was completely dependent on Sylvia or whomever she might appoint as my mistress or master for the night.You think the situation I was in would make me feel terrible or humiliated? To tell you the truth: I cherished it, my mind danced in bliss. Waves of delight raced through my mind and body and I was incredibly excited. From time to time somebody (was it Sylvia?) stroked my legs and my behind and each time I came close to an orgasm.Well, what had brought me here and to this? What had caused me, a grown man of 25 years, rich by most standards, contrary to everything one should expect of me under normal circumstances, to be immovably stationed on a pedestal, dressed in exquisite feminine finery and looking like the epitome of femininity, and be a willing subject to the whims and caprices of a beautiful, but strong willed woman? Let me explain and tell you how everything happened from the very beginning.I, Rene de Brinville, was the only c***d of a couple, who had been extremely successful in the French fashion industry after the second world war. My parents were not actually creating fashion, but had an excellent ability to determine what would sell. They acted more or less behind the scenes, picking out young designers, backing them, building them up, and not only selling their creations but building a marketing empire around their names. When I was born, they had very successfully exploited every turn in fashion the fifties and early sixties and continued to do so. I grew up in my early years among fashion sketches, designers and fabrics.I was not overly touched by all of this, I had the normal interests of a boy: I’d rather go out and play soccer with the other k**s and generally make a mess of myself in the park, than sit at home. I abhorred little girls and I remember throwing a tantrum when my mother tried to persuade me to play an angel in a Christmas play. I definitely rejected the idea of being dressed up as an angel, which in my view was on par with wearing girls clothes — a terrible idea.As both my parents were working, I was sent to a boarding school when my time came. There is nothing exceptional to report from this period, except maybe that if any mischief or prank was discovered, the headmaster would at first enquire where I had been at the time of the incident and more often than not his hunch was right that I was the culprit or, at least, an accomplice.My happy small world collapsed when my parents were both killed when their plane crashed on a flight from Milan to Paris. I was 13 years old and on the verge of puberty when it happened. Economically I had no problems. My parents had practically retired and sold their company to a multinational chemical company interested in it because of its potential to propagate new chemical fibers and fabrics, and just worked as advisors. All their money was invested in blue chip stocks which made me totally independent. By the Swiss definition that a rich man is one who can live comfortably on the interests earned on his interests, I would have been a rich man. But I was not a man yet. I was a school boy and the problems that I created at the school immediately grew immensely after the death of my parents. The headmaster found it necessary to inform my uncle, the brother of my father, who had been appointed as my guardian, that I had become so unbearable that he suggested I leave the school at the end of the year.When the school year ended, I went to live at my uncle’s house at least for the summer holidays. My uncle told me that he would decide later, whether I could stay there or be sent to another school. My uncle was not exactly poor either. He had a booming wholesale company in Paris. His wife and her daughter (from a previous marriage) lived in a small chateau (the English would have called it a manor) about 200 miles southwest of Paris and he only came to visit them once in a while. Now he was there to spend the summer vacations.I soon found out that my aunt was the domineering figure in this marriage and my uncle’s prolonged sojourns in Paris were his way of escaping her. Her daughter Sylvia was a very pretty girl, about nine months older than I was. Immediately, my aunt set out to correct what she described as my unbearable and impossible behavior. Before she had married my uncle, she had been a teacher. From this experience she had a wealth of methods of punishing me for all my wrongdoings without so much as touching me. She would for instance restrict me to my room and give me a task to complete — like learning a poem with 24 stanzas in German — before I would get anything to eat and the like. During the summer holidays she convinced my uncle that it would be best if Sylvia and I would not be sent to a school, but that instead she and another tutor would teach us together. My uncle was only too glad to be relieved of my schooling problem, and a teacher whom my aunt knew was employed.The teacher turned out to be an attractive woman but at least as stern with me as my aunt had been before. Here I was with two domineering ladies as my teachers and no male to turn to. My future really looked gloomy. The only solace that I found was with Sylvia. She comforted me when I was down and out from the attentions that I got from our teachers.Looking back from where I am today, I am sure however that all this was going according to a master plan devised by my aunt: I was to take Sylvia as my confidant and protector and thereby become dependent on her. It all was a variation of the age-old good-cop-bad-cop-scheme. Anyway, it worked and I soon accepted Sylvia as a higher authority who had it in her hand to help or to hurt me.*Hi, this is Sylvia. I simply have to break in here and tell my side of the story. Of course, there was a plan and it even then went much further than Rene suspects even now. When my father became his guardian, my mother at once saw the possibilities that opened up to subject him to our strong wills. We just had to steer him into a position which made him completely dependent on us — in spite of all his money. We were not exactly poor, but my mother did not want to be dependent on the whims and the fate of my father, who recently seemed to have developed a separate life of his own in Paris. When my mother first saw her nephew, she saw at once what nature offered us: he was a boy OK and his behavior was the perfect definition for roughhousing, but his features were very pretty and delicate, almost feminine. Maybe subconsciously he tried to neutralize this outward appearance with his actions. My mother immediately hit upon the idea of completely feminizing him and slowly turn him into a girl and thereby make him totally dependent on us or — later — on me. She had distinct lesbian tendencies and rightly foresaw a similar inclination in me. Of course, she only took me into her confidence after some time when she explained her intentions. I was very enthusiastic about her ideas and did everything I could to further her plans as you will see.*Soon after my uncle returned to his work in Paris, my aunt found it advisable to have my health checked and I remember the visit of a lady doctor who examined me thoroughly and diagnosed that I was a little anaemic, and who prescribed some medication that I had to take in the morning with my breakfast. I took it assiduously, though when she returned after two weeks, she found it necessary to give me an injection and from then on I got one every week for the next two years. I did not notice any changes in my health, but she insisted, that if she did not give me the shots and I did not take my pills, my health would soon deteriorate.Nothing out of the ordinary happened until, first, Sylvia, and, nine months later, I, became 16. The thorough schooling that we both had had enabled us to pass our high school graduation examinations before a state school board with flying colors. Living together with women only, I had not paid attention and had had no real chance to observe the development other boys went through during the same period in their lives. I did not notice, therefore, anything out of the ordinary with my own development. However the fact was, that I did not grow much more from the time I joined my aunt’s household. At 16, I had reached 5’8″ and was very slim. I tipped the scale at 115 pounds. I did not know it then, but I had very small hands and feet for a boy. When I said I did not notice anything extraordinary, I really lied to myself. At first, I had only noticed a slightly fleshier chest and tried to disregard it. However over the months my chest grew out more and more and there couldn’t be any doubt, I was developing like Sylvia and grew girls’ breasts. At first, I tried to hide them from everybody, I avoided being seen without a shirt on, I wore bulkier sweaters and wider coats and I shunned tight T-shirts. However during a visit of the lady doctor I summoned all my courage and told her about my problem. She was not at all surprised and explained to me, that this often happened to boys of my specific type of constitution, that it was a hereditary strain in me, but in due course it would disappear by itself. She also pointed out, that my voice had not really broken as was common in boys of my age, it had changed just slightly into deeper tones, more of an alto than a baritone. This too was caused by the same precondition and would rectify itself gradually over the next years. I was very relieved by this assurance.I was less cautious now and even let Sylvia catch me with my chest bare. To my great surprise, she was delighted to see that I had a bosom like hers. She immediately offered to lend me one of her bras, but I flatly rejected this. I explained to her what the lady doctor had told me about it and asked her not to tell anybody else. She promised it solemnly. This — what I thought to be — our little secret drew us still more together. Sometimes she teased me a little and said that I would make a cute girl.*At that time Rene was brimming with the female hormones that the doctor had given him and had the smooth skin and the facial features of a very pretty girl. I did not have to break my promise not to tell anybody about it, because everybody of importance knew about it and even better, knew the real reason for it. Of course, we did not mention anything about it to him and I just once in a while teased him very cautiously a little about his female features to test his reactions. We just led him deeper into the trap by pretending that nothing unusual was happening. My mother even had encouraged him to let his hair grow out — this was the time of the flower power and the hippie movements and long hair was a way of protest among the boys — and he was only too willing to join this kind of protest against the suppressions of society. At the time of our graduation his blonde mane almost reached to the middle of his back when he tied it with a string at the nape of his neck. It had evidently escaped him, that his body was hairless save for a fluff under his arms and a perfect triangle of soft blonde curls somewhat lower. I had more hairs on my arms and legs than he had. All in all he already had a perfect girlish body and I was intrigued by it — actually, I found him quite sexy that way.Sex had not come very early in our lives, but when it came to me, it came with an incredible impact as if a tightly wound spring was suddenly released. In my case, it was shortly after my 16th birthday and the spring was released by our tutor. I had long suspected that there was something special going on between her and my mother. One night — my mother had gone to see my father in Paris — she introduced me to the Sapphic delights. She was very gentle, not a single spot on my body remained unkissed that night. She took me through all the stages of lovemaking up to a whole row of earthshaking, shattering climaxes.Of course, I, with my slightly dominant nature, wanted to try everything on a subject of my own. I wanted to be the teacher, not the pupil. So, Rene was my natural choice. With his feminine body he tempted my senses and I lured him into my net in a fashion worthy of a French courtesan at the court of Louis XVI. I started with unexpected little touches and caresses. I discovered, that his nipples were extremely sensitive and hardened at the slightest touch. I made him help me undress and flaunted my nakedness before him — always keeping him at a distance. It was hard for me not to jump into bed with him right away, but I knew I would lose a lot if I would let on my own desires. Sex for him had always to be a favor he would have to beg for. I instinctively knew it would only work for me if I made it look like I would magnanimously grant him something to soothe his desires and then only in exchange for something that I wanted from him.This play acting, hiding my own desires and playing on his, in fact intensified my pleasure immensely. I showed him every trick that I had learned from my very good teacher — and I think I even invented some new ones. After a while he was not only putty in my hands, he was sincerely devoted to me. On the other hand I had grown very attached to him, as someone who could fill all my desires for a soft feminine body and a submissive mind combined with some extremely male equipment. If you put aside all this reasoning and analyzing, you could bluntly say that we were both very much in love with each other and I intended to make absolutely sure that he would not slip away from me. I had several long conversations with my mother about the situation and together we formed a plan which we then carried out very successfully in every detail.*During the summer vacations after our graduation the family discussed what we should do next. My aunt suggested we should both go to a fashion school in the south of France near Grasse where the headmistress was a friend of hers. Sylvia had expressed a great interest and talent for designing fashion and in view of the profession of my parents and their former connections in the industry, it was suggested that I should be able to make a career in it myself, if not in designing, then in other fields like marketing. It all sounded so logical that I finally consented. The school was located in an old mountain castle and my aunt pointed out that she had already received the consent of the school if we would like to share an apartment there. I liked this idea very much because it relieved me from the problem of having to share the secret of my body with other guys. Everything came quite naturally and there was not the slightest doubt in my mind that this was the right move for me.Consequently at the end of the summer vacations everything was packed and we went off to our new school.The school was located in the French Sea-Alps off the Route Napoleon about two hours by car from Nice and Cannes. In former times it had been a fortified castle high on a mountain and it was still barely accessible. It still was very much self-supporting. We had our own electricity and well and were mostly independent save for the food supplies. There were large workshops and studios where every fashion-related item could be designed and produced from shoes to hats and everything imaginable in between.It turned out that our living quarters were a little separated from the living quarters of the other students. We had two bedrooms, a large livingroom, a common bathroom and a little pantry. As we were told by the housekeeper who showed us around, this portion of the castle formerly was the living quarter of the captain of the guards. After we settled and unpacked our bags, we were requested to see the headmistress, who turned out to be a strikingly beautiful woman in her mid-thirties, a little on the severe side in dress as well as in behavior, but this was to be expected of somebody who would have to guard and chaperon about 40 students.To my surprise I heard that I was the only male student, the rest were all girls — which was the reason for our detached living quarters. The headmistress told us that it was strictly a school for girls. Only the personal friendship of my aunt with the headmistress and a sizeable donation to the school had let the school-board make an exception for me and only on the grounds that Sylvia and I were regarded as a couple already engaged to be married. Well, they could regard me as whatever they liked, it would not stop me from developing new and maybe even some intimate extracurricular relationships to at least some of the other 38 girls — I thought.The first weeks at the school passed without any special events. We had a tight class-schedule and mainly I had to learn a lot of new things. The school was exclusively dedicated to female fashion in all of its aspects. We had classes in history about the development of the female dress from the antique Egyptian, Grecian and Roman times trough the middle ages to today’s clothes. Of course, we had classes in drawing fashion designs, classes that taught us all about the materials such as fabrics, leather, plastic and rubber and how to handle and use them and much more. The whole curriculum was scheduled for two years and from previous graduates of the school it was known that they all had been given excellent career opportunities. My life with Sylvia did not differ very much from our life at home and we both enjoyed it very much.*Now listen to the hypocrite! First of all I always arranged it so that I had a marvelous sex life — but I let him have his share too — if I felt like it. During the first days in our new school I felt it necessary to draw the reins tighter. It was the way he looked at and talked with the other girls that made me show him where his limits were. I had detected a few luscious morsels of femininity which I was not at all averse to tasting myself and if there was any playing around, I was determined to make sure that I, and not he, would do it.I never argued with him about his relations with other girls — I didn’t want any discussions about jealousy, but I found other methods to discourage him from pursuing his outside interests like giving him a task to fulfill at the time he wanted to meet somebody else. And I introduced a new ingredient into our love-play: bondage. Very slowly and very low key at first, but steadily increasing.I began one night by objecting his caresses with his hands saying they were too rough and that his nails hurt me. When he continued to stroke me, I tied his hands to the upper bedposts while he was lying on his back. I made this an uncommonly delightful experience for him because I caressed, patted, massaged and kissed every part of his body, taking extra care of the spots I knew to be extraordinarily sensitive, mainly his breasts and his nipples and, of course, his rod. I had noticed, that it had literally jumped to attention even during the tying of his hands — evidently he was as much turned on by it as I was. I played with him for the better part of an hour. When he started to moan and his moans grew into cries I felt it necessary to silence him with a gag that I made up from my panties and a scarf. Finally, my own excitement had reached the point where I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I straddled him and my first climax occurred the minute I lowered myself onto his shaft and it continued into a row of orgasms until he reached his and his rod weakened and slipped from my hot nest.I did not find it necessary to ungag and unfasten him immediately after this. I remembered the old Roman truth my teacher had taught me: “post coitum omnis a****l triste” (after coitus every b**st is wretched, meaning every male b**st), and I did not want to let him just slip away into sleep leaving me alone with my stirred up passions. I wanted to keep up the tension for him too, at least until my own excitement had cooled down a bit. So I started to play with him again very softly. Much to my surprise it took only seconds to put new life into his love-tool and it all started over again. Three times in a row it happened that night and it was long after midnight when I finally let him loose and sent him to the bathroom to clean himself up — but only after I had luxuriated in the tub for quite some time while he was still waiting tied and gagged on my bed.From this time on I found many reasons to tie him this way or other, e.g. to prevent him from smoking or eating too many sweets, or because he had caused a run in my stockings with his nails, or because he did not wash his hands before eating, or simply because I liked him to be quiet and not be disturbed by him while I was studying.While at first I used whatever came into my hands to tie him, I soon gathered some special utensils for that purpose, like at first some ropes and straps, later some light chains and a whole bunch of padlocks of all sizes. The fact that the school had excellent workshops helped a lot. I devised and made or had made for me numerous items for special purposes. For instance I had made a U-shaped leather glove to tie his arms behind his back for longer periods without causing too much pain for him. He sometimes had to wear this over night. I also had soft leather cuffs made for him for his wrists, for above and under his knees with which I could hobble him and for his upper arms just above his elbows. When I fastened these on him, I could draw his elbows together behind his back until they actually touched. At first I could leave him like this only for very short periods but I trained him to be able to take it for a little longer time every time I used them on him — which became quite frequent. Bondage became a steady element in our love play and which I could see from his reactions, Rene was increasingly turned on by it. Of course, he would deny emphatically if anybody would have asked him. I did not ask, however, I just put him into bondage more and more.One night before I released him, I snapped one of the padlocks shut around the base of his cock and his scrotum telling him that I regarded this as my property and, therefore, had every right to keep it under lock and key. I told him, I had mailed the key to myself in the afternoon and there was no way he could get out of it before the postman brought it — hopefully, because you can never be sure with the post — the next day. He protested profusely but also fruitlessly and had to wear it throughout the next day until the key arrived in the post and I relented. I repeated this on several occasions and could be very sure then that he would not date any other girls.Under the pretense of instructing him in the handling and care of feminine garments I made him perform maid duties for me. Not only did he have to do most of the hand washing of my delicate lingerie and stockings, he had to help me select the things I was going to wear and then dress and undress me from the skin out, brush my hair out, help me in the styling and setting of my hair and assisting me with my makeup. At the same time I insisted that he took good care of his own long hair by washing and brushing it thoroughly. He became quite proficient in his duties as a maid and there were days when I just relaxed and let him do everything for me and with me, starting with bathing and drying me, rub my entire body with sweet-smelling lotions, brush my hair and then set it, put on my lingerie and stockings, bring me some dresses to choose from, put on my makeup and finally dress me according to my choice.This mostly was our routine for a Saturday or Sunday when we had no classes and we wanted to go down in my car to Nice or to Cannes to do some shopping or just mingle with the people there at a nice restaurant or discotheque. It was extremely convenient for me to have him around as a combination lover, escort and maid.I also started him on the way to feminine dress. Also, very innocently at first by asking him to help me with some homework project: designing and making a set of lingerie. I told him, I could not construct the bra on myself and needed a model, but I did not want to go to any of the other girls for fear they would steal my ideas. He was very reluctant at first but finally I won him over. So I first designed and made a bra with half cups that pushed his breasts a little inward and up enhancing their sexy form, letting the nipples free.The work on the bra was interrupted seriously when, while working on the thing, adjusting it here and there, I ‘accidentally’ brushed over his nipples and not only they hardened. There was no other way to quiet him down but by a quick roll in the bed — which I wouldn’t have done if I hadn’t enjoyed it so much myself. After that I decided the only way to escape his roaming hands was to tie them on his back and while I was doing it I also tied his elbows tightly together to push his bosom further out.Then I told him the set consisted of three more items: a panty, a garterbelt and a slip and proceeded to put these on him too, so that I could see how they harmonized with each other. Without waiting for an answer and thereby cutting off all protests, I snapped the garterbelt shut over his hips and drew the panties up over his legs. On the way up however, I again encountered a rather large obstacle that in no way would fit into the small panties. However, I immediately took it into my hands to remove this obstacle and reduce it to more manageable proportions — evidently much to the delight of my model, who stopped complaining instantly.After the garterbelt and the panties were in place, I observed that the straps hung loose and the garterbelt had a tendency to ride up to the waist and I would never be able to see correctly the complementing lines of it and the panty. So I told him he would have to put on some stockings that I could fasten to the garterbelt. Surprisingly enough, this endeavor was carried out without any protests but again the panty came within inches of being ripped apart from a raising inner tension and I immediately had to attend to this problem with hands and mouth to prevent serious damage.After a while, I had everything under control again and made him parade up and down the room. He made such a cute and sexy girl now that his male equipment was out of sight that I could hardly keep myself from flinging myself into bed with her. I noticed that his nipples were still quite hard and erect. Obviously and contrary to his complaints, he still was quite excited in spite of having being drained three times in such a short period. His nature seemed to play directly into my hands. Mentally and intellectually he may have been opposed to it, finding it unbecoming to a man and opposed to everything he foresaw for his life, but there was no denying the obvious signs of sensual excitement that the wearing of the feminine garments caused him.I already had set the trap and this discovery assured me that finally there would be no really strong opposition when the trap was sprung.This evening I made him don the short slip too and had him wear the ensemble for the rest of the evening. To prevent him from tearing the stockings I even made him wear my mules which possessed feathery pompons and had two inch spiked heels, which he was able to manage perfectly. In this getup he was the perfect girl, cute figure, sexily dressed and very seductive. All it needed now was some makeup and another hairdo. However, I did not want to put too much pressure on him too quickly. I wanted to let it sink in a little, getting him used to the feeling of the lingerie, the stockings, and the heels before I set out to achieve my next goals.The next morning I persuaded him to wear the ensemble under his male clothes explaining to him that I had to know how the items wore during a normal day, if they pinched, chafed the skin or changed position or what else they might do. As he was always easily persuaded by logical reasoning, he soon gave in after I had told him, that nobody could possibly detect it under his jeans and the heavy and wide sweatshirt he usually wore. I made him wear it for several days, always making him wash and dry it over night, explaining, that I had to know how the materials chosen responded to the washing and if they would change their size or texture or lose their color or form.After a few days, I had made another set in a different color and the design a little different from the first and started the whole process over again until I had made him wear four different sets.By now this kind of underwear almost came naturally to him and he put it on in the morning without much thinking about it. Of course, I stored the sets in his drawers. One day, I removed his jockey shorts telling him I would look through them if they needed repairing. I would do it for him as he was helping me so much with my lingerie project. I put them all in a basket and succeeded in ruining them thoroughly when I spilled a quart of latex- based paint on them, accidentally — of course — and only because he had startled me by unexpectedly entering while I was standing on the ladder repairing some painting at the upper window.As he was wearing one of my lingerie sets that day, all of his own underwear was ruined and he had nothing but the lingerie sets I had made to wear until we could go to town the next time and buy some male stuff. Of course, we never got around to that and he never wore anything but the finest female underwear from this day on. On the contrary, I had prepared to put him into dresses completely very soon, again in a way that seemed purely accidental and he was in no position to resist it. To make it work, I had to enlist the help of my mother and the other girls at least to the degree that they kept quiet for whatever unusual might happen.*One day it was announced that our whole class would go to Florence in Italy to visit the museums and a famous Italian shoe designer and see his factory. We would go by bus very early in the morning to the Nice airport and fly by chartered plane to Florence and return the next day. Everybody was very excited about this excursion and the girls endlessly discussed what they should wear. They wanted to be elegant but not overdressed and as there was dinner scheduled in Florence, the problem was what to wear that was not too conspicuous during the daytime and still dressy enough for a dinner at one of Florence’s elegant restaurants. Well, I had no such problem. I planned on wearing grey slacks and a blazer over a white shirt and at night simply add a tie — things really are easy for a man, I thought and pitied the girls. Sylvia helped me and got everything ready the night before. She even brushed out the blazer and the slacks and hung them on the side of the large cupboard. Then she suggested I might want to refresh my summer tan a little bit and set me in front of the sun lamp before going to bed.In the morning, however, disaster struck me. My face was burning like fire. I had evidently gotten too much radiation from the sun lamp. I called Sylvia who confirmed this. She immediately suggested that she would put on a soothing lotion and use special creams on the most sensitive portions of my face, the eyes and the lips, which would also protect me from further sunburn while we were walking around in Florence. I was glad that she was so competent and active and gladly reclined in the chair, closed my eyes and let her go to work. The lotion stopped the burning soon enough and I felt her creaming my eyes and lips, finishing with a peculiar tasting fluid on the lips which she explained was a sealing coat that would prevent the protective cream to be rubbed off while having breakfast or lunch.As we were already very late, I jumped to get my slacks and coat only to discover another catastrophe. When hanging up the clothes Sylvia must have accidentally overturned a bottle containing liquid rubber which I had used for pasting together some drawings and left on the cupboard. Evidently the cap had fallen off during the night and the gum had dripped all over the blazer and the slacks. They certainly could not be cleaned in time for our departure — if at all. Well, I would have to wear one of my usual jeans and sweatshirt outfits and maybe get some other stuff in Florence. When I was looking for my things, Sylvia informed me, that she had sent them all out the night before when I sat under the lamp, because I would not need them today and they all truly needed washing. That really crushed me: I really had looked forward to this excursion and now I sat there with not a stitch to wear.But Sylvia came to my rescue. She would lend me one of her stretch pants and a pullover to go with them. However, I had trouble getting into them. Sylvia again knew a way out: I should first put on nylon stockings so that the legs of the stretch material could slide up on the slippery nylon. I did and it worked. However, I could not close the pants at the waist. About three inches were missing. When Sylvia saw it, she exclaimed “Oh, I forgot, I always wore these with my waist-cincher — let me get it and put it on you and you will be able to close it easily.” She went and came back with what I can only describe as a real corset. On the outside it was black lace but the inner part was a very strong pink material with heavy boning. It had a front opening and laced in the back. Sylvia clasped it around me from behind and asked me to draw in my stomach as far as I could. Then we both tried to close the front busk. It took some doing but Sylvia explained, that first the skin had to be drawn to the front by this because when closing the lacing in the back, it would automatically been drawn back again. If it was just laced in the back for the whole distance, the skin would be drawn too far back at the sides and in the back and it would be squeezed into the lacing and hurt.Well, what could I do, I surrendered to her doings and let her lace me into the damned thing until I could hardly breathe anymore. I was sure I could not put up with this for the whole day but once we were in Florence I was sure I could run into a store and buy some decent clothes. The wretched thing had another unwelcome effect: it pushed my breasts in from the sides and up and made them stand out more without covering them. Fortunately, the pullover she gave me was a large affair which camouflaged this and my corseted waist effectively. Featuring a large stand-up collar, it reached down to my thighs so very little of the gleaming stretch pants, which looked like painted on, could actually been seen. I slipped into some western boots and was ready.I helped Sylvia to get ready and we rushed out to the bus where everybody was already seated. We got in at the back door and sat down on the last bench thoroughly exhausted. When we got out and into the plane I thought I received some curious glances from the other girls, but nobody said a word about my strange get-up, they were all very nice about it.In Florence we went to see the famous dome first, because the teacher accompanying us had explained, that in former times the painters of the ecclesiastical pictures clad the saints and other figures in their paintings in the fashions of their day and that way we had a very reliable source of information about the clothes of each period.I was stopped, however, at the entrance by a guard with a deluge of Italian which I did not understand at all. All I could make out was “Signorina” and “non permesso”. Our guide came to my help and she explained, that she had been afraid this would happen, when she saw me, but had hoped I would slip by among the others. It was not allowed for girls or women to wear pants to church and, therefore, I was denied entrance. When I was about to explain that I was not a girl, Sylvia took me aside and said “There is no use arguing with him. To him you look like a girl — period. If you tell him you aren’t, how can you prove it in the middle of all the people şişli escort around here? And what will he say if you should convince him? Let’s face it, you are wearing my clothes. Come on, let’s get you something different to put on.” I could not agree more with her and immediately followed her across the square. However, she entered a very chic boutique, pointed at a mannequin in the window and said to the saleslady “We want this outfit as it is, completely, I am sure it will fit her.””Hey — wait a minute, this is a dress, I am not going to wear a dress, this is the wrong store, let’s get out of here!” I objected. “So you don’t want to wear a dress. What else do you think you can wear to make the guard let you pass. Look into the mirror over there and tell me!” And she turned me around to face a mirror. I got the shock of my life: I looked into the perfectly made up face of a young woman, makeup base, blusher on the cheekbones, light blue eyeshadow and a vivid pink lipstick. I turned around angrily: “Why did you do this to me?” “I had to — you were suffering from that sunburn and I had no other medication except my cosmetics. They are clinically tested to soothe your skin and help to heal minor irritations like you had this morning. I had to protect your skin from further sunburn and this was the only way to do it.””Well I have had enough of your kind of kinky medication, let’s just wash it off now and get me some male clothes.””If you think you can just wash it off, you have another thing coming: this makeup is waterproof and can only be removed with a special cleansing lotion. Particularly the lipstick. I already have told you that I put a special sealing coat over it. The makeup will stay on until we get home and I can take it off with the special cleanser. Today your face and body look like a girl’s and you better dress accordingly or you will be the laughing stock for all of Florence.”I was completely dumfounded when the truth of what she had said finally dawned on me. There was no escape now. I had to give in. I let her lead me to the back into a changing room and started to undress. I had hoped to at least be able to get out of the constriction of the corset but it soon turned out, that the outfit Sylvia had selected was a perfect fit with the corset. I did not have the power left in me to protest any longer. I felt like a calf being led to slaughter.The outfit Sylvia had chosen consisted of a narrow black skirt of a linen like structure following the lines of my body closely, reaching to just below my calves and extending for about four inches above the waist which was marked and accented by a narrow red leather belt. The top was a deep red organza blouse with lots of vertical pleats and a high collar reaching almost to my chin. The blouse was buttoned on the back and a big bow of the same material was knotted in front at my throat. I slipped on a bolero jacket over it just reaching to the upper edge of the skirt with sleeves reaching just over the elbows. It was of the same color as the blouse but of a heavy raw silk, collarless and exquisitely tailored.I had taken off my boots when I slipped into the narrow skirt and now wanted to put them on again. Sylvia intercepted this and brought me a pair of red patent leather flats with a black silk flower on each of them. I tried to slip them on, but the corset prevented me from bending down enough. The saleslady came to my help with a shoe horn and I managed to get them on.”You should thank me for selecting flats with all the running around we have to do today. I could have selected these here.”Sylvia showed me a pair of black suede slippers with extremely high heels. And it sounds funny, but at that moment I really was grateful that she had shown mercy for me. It did not occur to me that without her machinations I would never have been in this fix anyway.She thrust a pair of black suede gloves into my hands. “Put them on carefully.” I did and they were long enough to disappear into my sleeves.”Now in addition to this, we want to take this little bustier and these long gloves. And — I almost forgot the hat.”With that she took a large black straw hat of the kind that Florence is famous for and motioned me over to a chair. She loosened the string around my hair and with practiced skill brushed it out and brought the end up under the other hair. She then tied it high at my neck with a black silk ribbon and fashioned a little bow on the outside. She spread the loop that she had created to the sides to give it more volume. Finally she adjusted the large hat upon my head and fastened it with three long and dangerous looking hatpins.”Voila! here you are, ready for a fashion show runway. Perfect!”While she was busy with my hair the saleslady had already wrapped up the other items she had selected and run her credit card through the machine. In a second she had signed and we were out on the street.I could not resist the urge to glimpse into the mirror next to the door while she was signing the credit card slip. I could not believe what I saw: A young woman, not a girl anymore, an elegant, sophisticated young woman, dressed to the nines in perfect taste. I was shocked — it was unbelievable. And the whole operation hat not taken longer than six or seven minutes.It was only after we were out on the street again that I came to my senses. At first I was afraid that everybody would see through my disguise and read me as the man that I was. But I only saw admiring glances from the men and interested, sometimes even envious looks on the faces of the women. And when I recalled what I had seen in the mirror, I knew, that nobody could even have a suspicion of the truth.We walked back to our little group with me trying to adjust my stride to the confining skirt that did not even have a vent in it to make walking easier. It really forced me to take small steps. “Walk from the hips, don’t just throw your legs around. Move your behind in unison with your legs.” Sylvia coached me. I tried it and soon got the hang of it and was not hampered by the skirt so much as before.When we reached our class, Sylvia presented me saying: “May I introduce to you the entirely new and improved RENEE!” We were received with a round of applause and even the teacher mentioned something about a remarkable amelioration of my outward appearance. I could not believe it. Everybody knew I was a man but took it as absolutely normal that I was dressed as a woman. Crazy people these fashion people. All they obviously cared about was that I looked good, no matter what sex my dress proclaimed and whether it clashed with my real sex. All that mattered to them was my faultless outward appearance. And in this respect — I must concede — not even the harshest critic could have found any fault with me at that time.Well, we did our tour through the dome and the famous Ufficii palace and then had lunch. Everybody was very glad to be able to sit down for a while. I had a little trouble sitting down and managed only after pulling the skirt up a little but still the tight corset made me uncomfortable. I ate very little and sat very straight.Afterwards we were driven to the studio of a famous shoe designer and his factory. The maestro received us after our tour through the factory and held a colloquium on shoe design. He commented on the different styles and showed us how a design was turned into the final product.Somebody — I am not sure, but I think it was Sylvia — asked him what he thought of high heels and he explained that at all times high heels were regarded as a method of beautifying the legs of the wearer. Even men used it in the era of the “culottes” at the French court. He wanted to prove his theory with a practical example and called me to the front.”Here you see a very elegant pair of flat shoes and Mademoiselle (he was addressing me) certainly made an excellent choice for the purpose of today. She would probably not have been able to walk everywhere as she did today with high heels and if she had tried it, it would certainly have caused her great distress. She had to reach a compromise between the practical requirements of her day and sheer beauty. No doubt she did the right thing and I urge you to follow her example. But let me show you what a pair of high heels can do to her legs.”He motioned me to a chair and knelt down at my feet to take off my flats and put on a pair of shoes with extremely high heels made of black suede with red patent leather inserts. He helped me to my feet again and had to steady me. I almost would have fallen on my face. I was perched almost on tiptoe, had to straighten my knees and stand very straight. He led me up a few steps to some kind of a runway that crossed the room and urged me to walk up and down on it. I had some difficulty in doing it, but the maestro explained, that it is not easy to walk in heels of this height and it would take some practice.When he asked the group if they did not think the high heels were a considerable improvement to the beauty of my legs, he provoked another round of applause. He ended his demonstration saying to me that he apologized for any inconvenience or embarrassment he may have caused me and that I would delight him very much if I would accept the shoes I was now wearing as a form of reparation and he would be enthralled if I would continue to wear them today.In line with the role I had to play I thanked him profusely and cautiously stepped down from the runway. The maestro bade us all farewell and we got back into our bus to be driven to the restaurant for dinner. At first I had some difficulties walking in the high heels but with the coaching of Sylvia in the form of a few pinches in my backside I managed to walk quite naturally.At first we were driven to the hotel where we would spend the night. It was beautifully located on the bank of the Arno river with a great view on the famous ‘Ponte Vecchio’, the ‘Ancient Bridge’. All the girls rushed to their rooms at once to prepare for the night out.In our room Sylvia unpacked her little bag and prepared herself, letting me just stand there. I actually preferred to stand a little after sitting in the bus. When she had changed, she looked delicious in a bright yellow sleeveless cocktail dress with a flaring skirt and a large collar framing her tanned shoulders. Sylvia turned to me: “Now let’s get you ready.”With that she loosened the bow at my throat and told me to turn around. She unbuttoned my blouse and took it off. She also took off the skirt and told me to go to the bathroom. When I got back, she made me step into the skirt again and close its zipper in the back. In the meantime she dug into the bag that she had brought from the boutique and brought out a red strapless top made of the finest leather. She put it around me and hooked it shut on the back. It was cut so that my breasts were only half covered. Around my throat she snapped a wide red band made from the same leather with a large sparkling rhinestone clip in the front. She clipped long dangling rhinestone pendants to my ears and gave me the long black suede gloves to put on. When I had smoothed them up my arms Sylvia buttoned them at the wrists. They were so tight that I couldn’t have done it myself. They reached almost to my shoulders. Around my wrists she fastened wide sparkling rhinestone bracelets.With my large hat, the dangling, glittering earrings, the wide leather collar in contrast to the bare shoulders and breasts, which seemed ready to jump out of their confinement at any moment and my arms covered by the long gloves, I was again a daring vision from an extravagant fashion magazine. I was glad that Sylvia let me put on the bolero jacket again, for I felt really naked and exposed in my diminutive top. I was already beginning to feel like a woman. As a man I shouldn’t have cared at all if anybody saw my chest but the dress had changed my outlook on the world: I felt like a woman already.When we got into the bus again to be driven to the restaurant, our little group had completely changed its appearance: all the girls wore something dressy, almost formal.The restaurant turned out to be what in France we call a “diner- dansant” a restaurant where people go to eat and dance. It was very elegant and we did not feel out of place in our finery. The men all wore tuxedos or dinner-jackets, the women all wore at least cocktail dresses, some even long stylish dinner dresses.We were seated at a long table and had a very good view of the room. To my embarrassment Sylvia asked me to take off my bolero jacket as soon as we sat down. It was as if she had waved a signal flag: the minute I had deposited my jacket on the backrest of my chair, a young man came up and asked me to dance. I couldn’t very well decline as several other girls were also asked and accepted.Well, here I was, a young man in the finest feminine feathers imaginable dancing with another man. I was a good dancer but I was used to leading, not to being led. It was an absolutely new sensation to me. I really felt like giving up my own will, just holding on to my man and letting myself be carried away. Of course, my clinging tightly to him was also a precaution against stumbling with my unaccustomed high heels. However, it was not an altogether unpleasant feeling to dance with him. You could even say I enjoyed being a girl in these moments.I was glad, however, when our dinner was served and we had to return to our table as he was beginning to get amorous and I wanted to avoid any situation which I didn’t know how to handle.Dinner was pleasant, but after we finished we all were very tired and glad to go back to the hotel.The next morning I pleaded with Sylvia to go out and get me some male clothes but she flatly refused. She simply said she had enjoyed seeing me dressed as I was yesterday and I should continue for another day. Anyway, she reasoned, these rags were expensive and we deserved getting some more mileage out of them.Well, what could I do. I could not go naked to the street to buy something, if I wanted to leave the hotel, I had to wear what I had worn yesterday. There was no escape without Sylvia’s help. After some muttering about her bitchiness I had to give in to her and let her dress me in the outfit we had bought yesterday.*Victory! Victory! I had succeeded better than I had imagined in my wildest dreams. Renee (I shall use the feminine form of his name from now on and generally refer to him in the feminine gender, because to refer to him as a man now would be completely inappropriate) not only had worn the feminine outfit selected for her, but carried out the deception in a marvelous way. All through the day she had been the epitome of elegant feminine deportment. The original clothes horse. Of course, everything had been scrupulously planned ahead: I had asked my mother to go to Florence a week before and prepare everything: The guards at the dome, the guide (the church had long ago accepted women in pants, they only frowned upon nakedness now), the people at the boutique who prepared the mannequin in the window with the things my mother had selected for Renee, which then were changed to Renee’s exact measurements I had given her. Nothing was left to coincidence, not even the high heels demonstration at the studio of the shoe designer and the ‘present’ of the shoes which curiously matched Renee’s outfit in color and style perfectly. I thought the perfection of everything could give us away, but evidently she had taken everything at face value.At night at the hotel I told her I would only let her out of the tight corset if she would agree to be a girl all through the night and wear a nightgown. She was in no condition to object to anything at that time. I even made her promise to wear the same things the next day, but she wanted to back out of this in the morning.I did not relent, naturally and so she was dressed again in her new feminine finery. Just as the day before when I laced her into the corset for the first time, I took great pains to hide her cock under the front busk which reached down almost to her crotch. I did not want any embarrassing bulges to appear during the day, giving her away. As on the day before her cock was hard as rock during the lacing, but I left it that way and just continued. This way the cock would have its maximum dimensions while the corset was being laced, and if she was aroused later on, it could just grow into its former position without hurting her. The corset was, of course, specially made for her, I would never have subjected myself to something so restricting. It had a row of holes in the front and in the back to which a strap could be connected which would go between the legs and could hold her masculine equipment folded back between the legs. This method of hiding it had its advantages: she could go to the bathroom alone and sit down to pee, while with the other method I had to accompany her and help her to get the plumbing out and stowed away correctly. However, she was much too easily aroused now and folding it back and securing it there would cause her terrible aches and I did not intend to be this cruel.For trying to persuade me to let her off her promise of the evening before I added a new dimension to her femininity: before we left I had a girl come up to our room from the hairdresser in the hotel and give her a comb out and a new hairstyle as well as a manicure.As her nails were rather short and nothing really could be done with them I asked the girl to lengthen them artificially so that they extended for about half an inch beyond the finger tips, sculpture and color them in the same shade of red as the bolero and the blouse. Renee cringed when I asked the girl to do it, but when the girl started to work on her nails, she gave in for fear of an argument with me which would reveal her predicament to the girl, and remained silent in her role of an elegant young woman.While the girl was busy with her hands and nails, I already occupied myself with perfecting her makeup. Her eyebrows were a little too scraggly and thick for my taste. I knew that the fashion now was going more for the natural line and I had seen pictures of models in Vogue and Bazaar with really heavy eyebrows. I was not, therefore, too disturbed by the appearance of her brows yesterday — even in their natural way they looked feminine enough — at least after I had smoothed them down a bit with my lotions when I secretly had made up his face in the morning. But they certainly could be improved.I wanted a wider distance between them and a higher curve. So I started on them with my tweezers. Renee did not dare to protest in the presence of the girl. However, a few times in the beginning she tried to move her head away. A short, but evidently very painful jerk upwards on her earlobes soon curbed her objections and she let me continue until I thought the eyebrows were perfectly shaped. I had deliberately taken a little more off on the lower side than was, in fact, necessary, but I added some fullness on the upper side with the eyebrow pencil, giving her brows a marvelous high arch, which added an aristocratic appearance to her face.I then proceeded with the blusher on her cheekbones and finished by giving her very full, sensual looking lips with a fiery red, wet looking lipstick. I enhanced the sexy look of her lips by just ever so slightly going over the natural edges of the lips creating a very round cupid’s bow. She looked so sexy with this that I really had to restrain myself from kissing her on the spot and ruining the whole effort.With her newly beautified hands I did not let her wear her gloves. I wanted to show off the new addition to her femininity to all the other girls. As we would have to do a lot of walking, I let her put on her flats.From the hotel we walked the short distance to the Ponte Vecchio where we crossed the river to go to see the Museum at the Palazzo Pitti. The Ponte Vecchio is not only a bridge, it is also a fantastic market for jewelry. On both sides of the bridge are little shops with an unbelievable selection. No vehicles are allowed on the bridge and it is like visiting a mall for jewelers only. I started bickering with one of the jewelers for some pieces that had caught my fancy.I told Renee that I wanted to make up for everything I had done to her in the last days and give her a present. As I wanted to make it a secret until I had finally decided what to take, I asked her to turn around and put her arms on her back to enable me to try out the different items without her seeing what it was. I selected two golden bracelets, broad rings actually, which were hinged on one side and closed with an almost invisible lock on the opposite side. They went closely around her wrists.Furthermore I selected a ring for her. However, this was no single ring but rather four rings interleaving each other. I paid and had the bracelets packed into a little bag. The ring I divided by taking two of the interleaved rings and slipped them onto Renee’s ring finger on the right hand. The other interleaved two rings were standing up on the outer side of the finger. Before she could suspect any foul play, I had slipped her left ring finger into these rings. Her hands were suddenly locked together behind her back by the interleaving rings and try as she might she was not able to get them off. Her hands were securely tied behind her back.I did not mind her protests, just pointed out it would be unwise to attract too much attention in public. However, she continued her muttering until we reached the far end of the bridge. I detected a candy store there and went and got some lollipops the size of about a ping-pong ball. I broke off the stick of one and shoved the candy ball into her mouth, completely filling it, as I had expected.”Now here is something to sweeten your life a little bit. And I don’t want to hear any complaining any more (which was unlikely anyhow because the candy effectively gagged her). And don’t you dare spit it out or I will take one of your hat-pins and run it right through your ass — the whole length of it!”She knew I would do it too and immediately was quite subdued. I just walked on and let her follow me. As long as she walked calmly, she knew nobody would pay any special attention to her and neither her sweet gag nor her secret manacles could not be noticed by any casual observer.I do not know how long the candy lasted, but it certainly was more than two hours and then she had to keep the empty stick in her mouth, because she could not simply spit it out. I did not take off the rings until we sat down for lunch. When Renee started complaining about what I again had done to her, I simply reminded her that this morning she had broken the promise of last night and had to be punished for it. When she continued to argue with me, I just took another one of the lollipops from my coat pocket and slowly started to unwrap it without saying a word. Her quarreling stopped immediately and I put the lollipop back into my pocket for future use.After a nice lunch in the old part of Florence we went back to our hotel to collect our baggage, were driven to the airport and flew back to Nice. Under some foolish pretense I made Renee put on her high heels again because I liked to see her in them and we would not do much walking anymore.In the plane I showed Renee the other present I had gotten for her, the bracelets. She liked them very much and objected only on the grounds that she would not be able to wear them as they were not suitable for a boy. However since they would fit me too, I should keep them and the ring for myself. I put the bracelets on my arms and looked at them stating she was right, they looked good on me.”But just for now, please let me put them on you, I bought them for you and you should wear them for the time you are dressed as a girl.”She surrendered to my wish and gave me her arms to put on the bracelets. With a single move I snapped them shut over both her arms and too late she noticed, that I had threaded one bracelet through the other before closing them and her wrists were securely locked together. Before she completely realized what I had done to her, I asked her in my sweetest voice “Would you like to have a lollipop, Darling?” She just gave me a nasty look, put her backrest down and leaned back, closing her eyes, evidently resigning to her fate. I did not take off her shackles until we were in our apartment. When we left the plane I just gave her my light coat to hold and d****d it over her arms. This way we passed through passport and customs control and got into our bus back to the school.*In the bus that took us from Nice Airport to our castle, somebody suddenly suggested everybody should vote on my future appearance: should I resume my identity as a boy or should I be compelled to continue to dress as a girl. It may not come as a surprise to you now but it certainly was a surprise for me: The vote was unanimous: I should remain a girl.The real surprise for me however came shortly after we arrived at the school. I was requested to see the headmistress and further requested that I should not change but should remain dressed exactly as I was dressed during our visit to Florence. I thought I detected a gleam of triumph in the eyes of Sylvia when I told her about it. I was in doubt what shoes to wear. In Florence in the morning I again had worn the flats for our visit to the Palazzo Pitti but for the flight back I had changed into the high heels because Sylvia had told me she had no room in our bags to pack these while the flats would fit in. Now she urged me to keep on the high heels. Actually I didn’t have much choice, Sylvia just shoved me out in them. Here I was again out in the yard of the castle in my tight and rather long, black skirt, high heeled shoes, red blouse and bolero and the big black hat, my hands beautifully manicured with long red nails. Well I did not feel too well right now but I had no other choice than face the stern headmistress.When I came to the headmistress’s office, she made me walk up and down in front of her scrutinizing every move I made, every step I took. After about five minutes of silence she said: “I have heard about your escapade in dresses in Florence and I find very little to praise therein. But when I look at you now, I can at least state that you did not bring disgrace on our school.”I tried to explain how everything had happened and that I was completely innocent, but she stopped me short.”I know you had an accomplice in Sylvia but do not try to tell me it all happened against your will. I refuse to believe such rubbish. Of course, I shall have to punish you. I should have kicked you out for running such a risk of disgracing, at the very least, embarrassing the school, your teachers, and the other pupils, but I’ll show mercy and let the punishment fit the crime: for the duration of your stay at this school you shall wear nothing but the most feminine garments from the skin out. Absolutely no jeans or other pants are allowed, not even girls’ jeans, tights, slacks, leggings or pantyhose — one never would know where to draw the line between them.””The reason I let you off so easily is first that I talked the situation over with your aunt and she consented to this if I would then let you stay here and, secondly, now that I now have an all girl school again I do not have to make any exceptions for a male student. All right — I expect you to appreciate my leniency and respond to it with an increased diligence in your work. You may now go back to your work. Good morning.”With this I was dismissed. I could only turn around and slowly walk off. I knew Sylvia’s opinion and the opinion of the other girls. They wanted to see me as a girl. My aunt had consented and the headmistress was evidently unmovable. I had no hope of finding any support anywhere. I was just stuck with it and had to face almost two years in dresses. I was sure Sylvia would try to intensify her power over me and make me her slave during this time, but I saw no road of escape.Well if there was no other way, I would have to live it down and try to make the best of it. I knew there was a light at the end of the tunnel: I would, of course, resume my male identity when I finished the school. But as in so many other cases: the light at the end of the tunnel turned out to be the light of the oncoming train — but this is yet another story.Things were soon back to normal after our return from Florence. That is back to normal for everybody but me. Or was it normal now for me to wear girls clothes? Well for everybody else it seemed so: it was the order of the headmistress and this order had coincided with the vote of all the girls — including my cousin (and lover) Sylvia.I was still confused about what was normal now. I knew I had to obey the ruling of the headmistress issued as an order of punishment to me, because I had appeared as a young lady during our excursion to Florence. That I had not done so under my own free will was not accepted as an excuse. Nobody seemed to believe me that it all had been a chain of very unfortunate coincidences that had forced me to adopt a feminine identity in Florence. At least it seemed that nobody wanted to believe it, everybody seemed to be quite happy to see me in skirts.But I was a young man, 16 years old and soon to be 17. How could they do this to me, and even more, expect me to like it? But this was the catch. Something deep inside me actually did like it. I fought this feeling with all my willpower. I was to grow up to be and fill my place in society as a man, I was rich, I had ambitions, I wanted to move ahead in the business world and I knew I could only do it as a man. It is true that I was in love with Sylvia, but I regarded this as a teenage infatuation only. She was very dominant in our relationship and this was OK as long as we went to school together, but after that period she would either have to change her manners toward me or I would have to sever our relationship. If I wanted to fill my place in the tough world of business, I could not let myself be dominated by a mere woman.Those were the thoughts that went through my mind when I returned from the headmistress’s office to our apartment and which in one form or another I have repeated to me thousands of times since. But already while I was crossing the yard of the castle, which was our school, there was this unquenchable feeling of delight caused by the tight skirt and the high heels that I was wearing. Even the uncomfortable corset added to this delight deep within me, making me feel like a girl, stirring up my passions. But my common sense told me to fight these emotions.However — I debated the issue with myself — what could I do now: I could leave the school to escape the ruling of the headmistress which forbade me to appear in anything but full female dress during the whole school term, which was a little less than two more years. But I liked the school, I liked the subject of fashion that was taught there and leaving it would mean a separation from Sylvia.And there was the question of my body: during puberty my voice had not changed but instead I had grown a (in the original sense of the word) full set of female breasts, I had no beard or other masculine body hair. Except for one major difference I had a perfect female body. The lady doctor who had treated me for an anaemic condition had assured me that this stage of my development would pass in a few years and I would be a normal man, but to leave Sylvia, who had shared my secret understandingly and having to face the world without her help: I simply was too scared to do this. Maybe I should just sit this out. The two years would pass and I most certainly would have developed a man’s body by that time and would revert immediately to my masculine identity. This way I appeased my intellect — using its own methods. However — I promised myself — if I were to give in to the present situation, it would be for practical reasons only and certainly not because I enjoyed being a girl.When I came back to our apartment, I found Sylvia and a whole bunch of other girls among a pile of female garments. It looked like our whole class was present.”Hi Renee, hello, you are looking great again; that dress really suits you; what a beautiful hat — just like the one Edith Head used to design for her forties pictures — and the shoes, I wish I could walk in heels that high, and, my, what a beautiful slim waist …” I was received like a homecoming queen by everyone and showered with compliments. I returned the greetings and thanked everyone very politely.”We know you have not been able to complete your wardrobe yet, so we all wanted to chip in and bring you a few items you might want to wear for the time being.” They were all very nice — the news of my predicament had surely traveled fast across the campus.Sylvia asked them to quiet down a bit and thanked them in my name for the consideration they showed me. “However,” she declared, “Renee must find her own personal style. She will only borrow a few items for a few days. We will go to Cannes tomorrow, Saturday, for a shopping spree at the chic boutiques to select something that suits her style.”She selected a narrow light brown skirt, a fancy embroidered beige- and-brown sweater, and a wide cape in a heavy red-yellow-brown wool melange, just the colors of the fall leaves.Sylvia asked me to make some coffee. I went to the kitchen and prepared and then served it together with some biscuits. I had to take great care not to stumble with my high heels while balancing the coffeepot and the cups. I could not bend down as I was used too as a boy, meaning from the waist. I had to bend in the knees and the hips, keeping my upper torso almost straight up: the stiff corset did not allow any bending at the waist. Of course, this looked very feminine and elegant, but it was a very exhausting exercise that I was not at all used to. Sylvia watched me intently and with great interest. The other girls just took it for granted that I moved and behaved like a girl. Why shouldn’t I, I looked like one of them? Well not exactly: I was dressed far more elegantly than any of them. Everybody chatted for a while — it was becoming a real hen party. The only remarkable thing was that the most sophisticatedly dressed of the group — I — had to do the maid’s duties. Sylvia just hovered over the crowd and made me run around: “Give Denise another cup of coffee — will you please? — Get some more biscuits please! — Please fill up the sugar bowl! Where is the milk — will you bring it to Adelaide please!” You could have said she kept me on my toes — if I hadn’t been kept on them anyhow by my high heels. The narrow skirt did not help me either in getting around among the girls.After a while, the teacher of our design class joined us. “You know,” she started, “you have to design and make two items until the end of the semester, that is until the Christmas holidays starts, one for yourself and one for a common model. The first one will be judged for your proficiency to deal with your own body — which may be less than ideal in some respects — and the second one will let us compare your designing abilities with all the other students because you will all design for the same model. Thereby nobody has an advantage over the other because she has a better figure.””Now during the last years the class always voted on who would be the common model. This year it should be the same procedure — but let me make a suggestion: I think you cannot find a better model than Renee. She is slim, has an excellent figure, long legs, a very pretty face and long, beautiful blonde hair. And — in my opinion — most important of all, she wears clothes perfectly. And if Sylvia teaches and trains her a little bit more to move and walk like a model, she should be the perfect choice for you. Of course, — I do not want to impose anything on you, if you have any better ideas, it suits me fine, but I think you should consider my suggestion.”After a moment of silence, everybody started talking. And I could not believe my ears: everybody was in favor of the idea. A whole bunch of fashion conscious and probably rather narcissistic girls wanted a boy to model their creations. They must all be mad, I concluded. However in this other part of me these strange feelings stirred again and excited me more than I cared to confess at the anticipation of the dresses that I would get to wear and to model.”Of course, — if you design something appealing to your model, she may just want to keep it and buy it from you. I gather she is in need of some nice things. From what I can see, she is not opposed to wearing sophisticated and a little extravagant things. This should inspire your creativity.”The question was not anymore whether I should be the model — this was set aside as accepted by all — evidently nobody was interested in what I had to say about it. When I wanted to raise some objections somebody who had obviously watched Perry Mason movies on TV a lot interrupted me: “Totally incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial”. “Objection overruled!” the teacher answered laughingly laying down her decision in the best tone of an Erle Stanley Gardner judge. The only question to be solved seemed to be who should make what. The teacher said she would be the coordinator and suggested that every girl should propose a design and she would then assign the different tasks to the girls. “As much as Renee may like it, it would do her no good to have fifteen glamorous evening dresses and no sensible clothes for the day. And you should rather prove your creativity within the limited possibilities of day dresses than going overboard with glamorous evening wear.”Shortly after that the meeting broke up and everybody went. I was glad when they were all gone, because I knew I had to clean up the mess and wash the dishes.When I tried to undress for this to make it easier for me, Sylvia objected and instead tied an apron around me. It was more of a pinafore though. I do not know where she had gotten it, I had never seen her wear it, maybe one of the girls had brought it. It had a skirt that was closed in the back and ended in a wide flounce all around that reached almost to my ankles. Similar flounces went up from the waist in front, ever widening up to the shoulders where they stood out like wings and continued getting narrower to the waist in the back. The pinafore was closed by buttons in the back and wide ribbons that were tied in the back to a large bow that bobbed up and down with every step I took. I was not even allowed to take off my high heels. Sylvia told me: “With the little time you have left until you have to do the modeling, you should grasp every opportunity you have to train graceful walking and moving around in high heels and tight, even hampering clothes.” But she was nice and helped me clean up for the most part.She then went to the bathroom to prepare herself for bed. When I had finished everything and came to bed, I found a shimmering satin full length nightgown laid out for me — another surprise. I put it on and relished the sensuous feelings it inspired. However I was so exhausted, that I soon fell asleep.The next morning after showering Sylvia requested that I cream myself with an expensive smelling body lotion which gave my skin a velvety texture all over. Then she made me put on a bra, panties and a garterbelt. I was glad she did not again lace me into the dreaded corset. When I drew on the shimmering nylon stockings, my emotions again were stirred. I relished this feeling of the soft almost weightless material gliding up my legs and still give the feeling of a certain tightness all over after I anchored them to the straps of the garterbelt.She brought me the brown/beige skirt and sweater ensemble. “You know, when we have to try on things, it is much more practical to wear a separate top and skirt instead of having to take off a whole dress just to try on a blouse or a skirt.” After I put it on, she sat me down in front of her makeup-mirror which stood close to the window. “When you make yourself up for going out at daylight, you have to make up yourself in daylight. The light of incandescent bulbs is much too red and all red colors are washed out under it. If you use red colors like blusher on your cheeks so you look good under incandescent light bulbs, you will look like a clown in the much bluer daylight. If you have no daylight available, try to find yourself a mirror with daylight colored fluorescent tubes.”I realized that the program to train me as a girl had begun in earnest. She gave me makeup base and showed me how to apply it with a little sponge — not too thickly, just as a hue to blot out imperfections but still leave the face looking naturally. Then came eyeshadow and mascara, the eyebrow pencil and the soft brush with the blusher to accent the cheekbones, last was the lipstick. I was trying my best to get everything right, but we had to start all over several times until I did what Sylvia called an acceptable job.”You will have to do this every morning now and I shall check it before you leave the house. During the day you must check periodically if it is still perfect. Nothing looks as bad as a girl with run or smeared makeup. Particularly after each meal or whenever you eat or drink something in between you must check and eventually repair your makeup. Don’t you ever let me catch you with a şişli escort bayan less than perfect makeup.”Well, being a girl sure seemed to hold some inconveniences in store for me. Another inconvenience came up when Sylvia decided I should wear my high heels. “We will not walk around too much and you will be able to sit and rest in between. But for judging the length of dresses and skirts, you must wear high heels, because you will wear them mostly. Not these of course, actually they do not match your outfit very well, we will get some others first thing.”When everything was as perfect as I could get it on my first training day, we were ready to go. Sylvia had gotten herself into an ensemble similar to mine and already wore a light overcoat. She had the cape that I would wear in her hands and asked me to turn around. Before she put the cape on me however, she again fastened the two golden bracelets on my wrists — again one threaded through the other so my wrists were locked together behind me. “Why are you doing this? And what will people say if they see me like this? It is so humiliating.” “That is exactly why you have to wear them, love, to make you humble and submissive and to constantly remind you that you are completely dependent on me. And if you will be careful, nobody will notice.” With that she put the cape around me and off we went.We drove into Cannes and parked the car in the rue d’Antibes which is running parallel to the famous Croisette and a very good shopping district. I pleaded with her to unfasten my wrists when we got out of the car, but she was unyielding. “First, we will go to a shoe store, you do not have to take off the cape there and nobody can see anything.” I was not so sure about that. I already had the feeling that everybody was staring at me. We had to walk a little distance and I slowly regained my composure when I noticed that nobody paid special attention to us. Just passing glances.The shoe store was very elegant in a new building in a side street leading to La Croisette. Sylvia motioned me to sit down, which I carefully did. If you walk on extremely high heels and have your hands tied on your back so you cannot use them for balancing or holding on to something, sitting down requires much care if you want to avoid just falling down into the chair.A very friendly sales clerk came up to us and asked what we desired. “We would like to see some high heeled slippers in brown and in blue, some evening sandals, some high heeled city boots and … well we will see what else we can find for my friend here.” The clerk took off my shoes and I could see he was very impressed by their design and then the name in them. He brought a large selection of shoes in my size and I had to try them all on and walk around a little. Sylvia always asked how they fitted and, after my reply, made her selection.We bought about half a dozen slippers in all colors and different leathers, three pairs for evening wear in black satin and gold leather and one pair of sandals with very thin straps covered with rhinestones and finally a black and a brown pair of boots. All had very high heels, about the same as the ones I had gotten in Florence. Their heels were between just over four and five inches high but since I had a rather small foot for a boy (a small ladies’ seven in US size), I was almost toppling over on the very high ones. Anyway, I was mostly concerned with not letting on that my hands were bound under my cape and let Sylvia carry out the whole transaction with me little more than a silent model. When Sylvia paid, she asked to have all of them, except a brown snake leather pair which I wore instead of the ones I had come in, send over to the Hotel Majestic where she had reserved a suite for us.Out on the street again I thanked Sylvia not only for the wonderful shoes she had selected for me but also for keeping the secret of my bound arms to ourselves. “Well, since you have been a good girl so far, I think I can now take off the fetters and let you run free. But do not try anything funny — you would regret it dearly.” She warned me and released my arms but kept the bracelets on my wrists.After that we went to a lingerie shop to select some underwear. I was very apprehensive because I dreaded having to try something on and thereby probably reveal to the saleslady that I really was a boy in dresses. However Sylvia was very sweet and just selected the things without making me try them on. She selected a wealth of panties, bras, slips, and garterbelts in all kinds of materials and colors. Mostly they were made of silk or shining satin, some plain but refined and stylish in their cut, some with an abundance of lace. The bras were all half cups which would leave my sensitive nipples free and I shivered at the thought of the feeling of the material of the dresses rubbing against them. She also selected some nightgowns with matching negligees.Just looking at the bras and the other lingerie gave me the most peculiar feelings in my groin. As I was not wearing the corset which had hidden my masculinity yesterday, I was terribly afraid of being caught with a protuberance in my skirt front incompatible with the anatomy of a girl. And while I thought about it, it began to happen! Slowly the pressure rose and I could do nothing to make it go away. It seemed, as if the danger of being caught with it, only made it become harder and harder. I quickly retreated to a little stuffed chair in a corner of the store and sat down, holding my purse pressed into my lap. Sylvia immediately noticed my discomfort.”Aren’t you feeling well? Do you want to have a drink of water?” “Oh no, I just wanted to rest my feet a little bit.” I lied bravely. From Sylvia’s knowing expression on her face I immediately knew that she knew. She turned to the saleslady again and continued her conversation. “Yes, and then I want some tight and strong elastic panty girdles and some well made cache- sexes to wear under panty hose and tight pants to avoid the ‘panty-line’.”The saleslady went to get the items and Sylvia looked to me smiling knowingly. I had tried to concentrate on dividing 23,456 by 13 to occupy my mind with something different and make the erection go away. When the saleslady returned, she brought a selection of panty girdles and some items which looked like some wide flesh-colored elastic straps. Sylvia made her selection and had the saleslady pack everything together save for one of these strap contraptions, which she had named cache-sex, and which she handed to me to try it on.I had just reached 1804 in my computation, which had served its purpose, and could get up again. I stepped into a changing booth in the back, took off my panty and slipped on the elastic device. After some tugging here and there and repositioning of my male parts, it did just what its name implied: it hid my sex completely. My balls and cock were neatly folded between my legs and invisible. I tried not to envisage what would happen, if I got a hard-on again. The strong elastic would certainly prevent any rising, but I could foresee, that this would be a very uncomfortable, even painful state and I certainly wished to avoid it. However, I wished even less to see the situation I had just escaped repeat itself. So choosing the lesser of two evils I was thankful to Sylvia for having given it to me and kept it on.When I returned to the front, I saw the saleslady wrapping up several larger items which I could not make out except that they seemed to me rather stiff and about 17 inches long. Sylvia paid and again had everything sent to our hotel.Finally we visited two very stylish boutiques, to complete my wardrobe. I will not go into the details of everything we bought, suffice to say that everything was exceptional in style and quality, and — I must say — rather expensive. After that we checked into our hotel, the Majestic on the Croisette and had a light lunch in one of the little restaurants nearby. We both felt exhausted from the events of the morning and decided to have a little nap.When we awoke, Sylvia stated that I should go to a beauty parlor and have myself thoroughly worked over. “I feel like having a splurge myself, so I will just come along with you.” We phoned ahead and got an appointment for right away at the best salon in town. We were lucky: presently there was neither a festival nor a convention in town and it was off season.We were received and immediately directed to two adjoining booths which were separated by a curtain. Sylvia opened it. “I want to see what they do to you,” she explained. She ordered a hair wash for both of us and then discussed how my hair should further be treated. As a boy I simply had worn it long, straight as it fell down my back, just held together by a string at the nape of my neck. Long hair for boys was still fashionable then. It was considered denoting an artistic or creative personality.”The color is very nice, a natural golden blonde. You may consider yourself very lucky with this. However, it could use a little more strength and body. It is quite straight and you can do very little with it. I suggest giving you a permanent for a nice curl and then we see what we can do, darling.” Marcel, the young man selected to attend to me seemed to be very competent. He was a little effeminate in his movements and his speech. He certainly seemed not to be interested in girls except as raw material to practice his art on, for he clearly regarded himself as an artist. I wondered if he would be more interested if he knew I was a boy, but came to the conclusion that he probably was only attracted to burly he-men.I let him go to work on my hair and relaxed in the chair. When all the lotions had been applied and I was finally sitting under the dryer, someone handed my several fashion magazines which I looked through. Oddly enough seeing all the beautiful dresses I started to think of how I would look in them. Was it possible that after only two days of being in skirts my personality had changed so much? And even more amazing to me was the fact that envisioning me dressed in these beautiful and elegant dresses again stirred my emotions — I was getting a hard-on.Hell no, this is the last thing I could want now. I closed my eyes and started to think of unpleasant things. The first unpleasant thing that came into my mind was having to wear a corset like I had to yesterday — but unfortunately this produced a reaction entirely opposed to the desired one. My dick got harder and harder and started to hurt under the tight cache-sex that I wore. I saw no other way out of this than giving it the room it requested. As I was all alone for the moment I started to reach into the top of my skirt and under the tight elastic of the cache sex and turned my now really stiff symbol upward where it rested under the broad elastic strap that went up to the waist-strap. I hoped nobody would have noticed it as it was all done under the wide smock covering me from neck to thighs. However Sylvia sitting in the next chair had noticed my contortions and immediately guessed their reasons correctly. “I see you find the reading exciting.” She teased me but did not further pursue the matter. I only hoped that the erection would subside before I had to take off the smock. However, assuming this would take some time, I thought I would continue to enjoy the pleasant feelings of the dreams provoked by the magazines.After a while Marcel reappeared and took the rollers from my hair. He combed and teased my hair, brushed here a little bit and there. For the washing and drying he had turned me away from the mirror and did not turn me around until he thought his work was done. When finally he turned me around, I almost did not recognize me: my face was framed by wide soft curls. The curls almost touched my shoulders and when I shook my head a little bit I felt the delightful sensation of the hair flying around my head. Marcel was very content with his creation and admired me from a few steps way. “I gave you a very natural looking head for everyday wear, suitable for a young girl. But at the same time you can easily comb and brush it into very sophisticated and extravagant styles both for day or evening wear.” He stepped closer and with his comb and brush took all of the hair around to the left side and arranged it in a big puff over the ear. The asymmetrical style gave me an entirely different look, very daring and extravagant. “For a big evening you could do it up like this.” He took apart the coiffure he had just created and twisted the mass of the hair together on the top of my head, wound some red velvet ribbon around it and let the rest spill over the ribbon like a fountain. It looked great.Sylvia had witnessed the show from her booth and freely applauded the maestro. “You really have surpassed yourself today, Marcel. I never imagined you to be able to create such a masterpiece from our little scraggle- head here.” He bathed in her compliments and danced all around me, holding his head to one side and then to the other, fluffed the top out a little more and was really taken by his creation. “But do me a favor, Marcel, we want to shop for some hats for our little Miss and the hair should be set in a way that goes with hats.” Sylvia interrupted his self-admiration party.”But of course, Madam, right away, again this is very easy: look here.” He undid the velvet ribbon and gathered the hair in the back where he fastened it with two combs so its curls cascaded down from high in the back to the neck. “This style goes well with little hats that are worn reaching almost into the forehead, maybe with a little veil.” He undid the combs again and brushed the mass of the hair from the back straight up in the back and all around to the front where he brushed it into a tuft of little curls over the forehead.”And this is the Betty Grable style — remember the musicals of the forties? This goes with turban-style hats.” He undid the clips that had held the hair and brushed it all down as it had when he began his demonstrations. “This style, of course, goes well with large, wide brimmed hats. It all depends on which kind of hat you are going to wear.””I think the first style for the little hats is what is best today,” Sylvia cut in. “Very well, let’s do it this way then.” And in a moment he had repeated the look of a few minutes ago with the two combs in the back. “I am opposed to using hair spray. A hairdo should look soft and natural and be able to move freely. Spray makes the hair look like steel wire. Nothing is as ugly as a very artificial hairdo with sits on the head like a concrete structure. Unfortunately not many of my colleagues share my views — but it needs more work and a better cut to be able to do it without the help of spray.” He rambled on as he worked on my hair. “Here we are,” he finally declared, “all ready for a nice shopping spree and the admiration of an endless string of admirers at teatime.”While he turned to Sylvia to finalize his work for her, I was left to my thoughts seeing myself in the big mirror. I was almost stupefied from what I had just witnessed. What so far I had regarded as just plain long hair on a boy, had suddenly been turned in the most beautiful girlish head of hair you could imagine. Now the last thing in my looks that could have reminded me of my former existence as a boy had been erased. Now I truly was a girl, nothing remained from my boyish past. Even if other people had seen a girl in me because of my dresses and makeup, to me it had been different I still had the same hair as I had as a boy. This was the last tie which held me to my male past. Now this was gone too.In a way it was a relief, now I was a girl completely — nothing in my looks reminded me of my former existence. But at the same time I was a little scared. Would I ever be able to revert to being a boy? But I decided to enjoy the moment, to enjoy the fact that I certainly looked like a very attractive girl. I really had no other choice anyway.When Sylvia was ready, she had a coiffure almost identical to mine, she paid, gave Marcel a large tip and we left. We slowly strolled through the busy streets and I began to notice and even enjoy the admiring glances of passing men.Sylvia directed our steps to “Le Salon des Chapeaux”, a sweet old- fashioned milliners shop which we had already passed before. I had detected some very nice little hats in their window and now was really eager to try some on. On second thought, reflecting on the situation and my feelings, I couldn’t believe it myself: two days ago a rough boy in jeans and a sweat shirt — now all decked out as a pretty girl from the high heels, the gleaming stockings, the narrow skirt and the matching sweater under a wide cape, coiffed by a master and artfully made up, thrilled to the bone anticipating a session in a milliners store trying on ladies’ hats. What had happened to me?We entered and were greeted by an elderly lady, the owner, and her young assistant. Sylvia explained that we wanted to see a few hats for me. I was not at all sure, what would suit me best, there were so many different styles and colors and materials, some with veils, some with feathers, some really outrageous models decorated with fake fruits, some with large brims, some little pillboxes — the variations were endless.Sylvia was not flustered at all by the endless variety presented to us. She selected a few small black hats made of lacquered straw and of fine felt all with little veils that could be drawn over the face down to the chin or arranged so it would just come down over the eyes. She made me put them all on and let me look into the three part cheval mirror that allowed me to see me from all sides. After some deliberation we selected a little three pointed affair with rolled up sides reminiscent a little of the ladies hats at the medieval courts. It too had a stiff veil of nylon net with little velvet like points in it. It looked best if it was placed far to the front and exactly centered with the front point reaching down to my forehead. I was delighted with it.The next choice was a small cap with an asymmetrical design. It came down from the top on one side almost to the ear where it was decorated with a large blossom entirely made of chiffon petals with a rhinestone star in the center. “This one would go perfect with the asymmetrical hairdo that Marcel just showed you,” Sylvia commented as she gave it to the assistant to be packed for us.”Now we need one for daytime wear. Let’s try this one here.” She produced a dark brown felt hat designed almost like a low bowler hat. The hat band was folded taffeta and came down through a slit in the narrow brim. “It can be tied under the chin with a bow on one side of the face, or brought back and tied in a large bow at the nape of the neck,” the shop-lady explained and showed us how to do it, “I think it is complementing your outfit perfectly, you should keep it on.” Sylvia and I agreed and she tied the large bow at my neck. “If you want it to look dressier, just add a veil to it, like this one here,” and she produced a nylon veil and attached it to the crown. She drew it down over the eyes almost to the tip of the nose. It looked great. “I knew you would like it — and you have the face for it. You have to have a slim face for this hat, and the veil adds a little mystery.”I could hardly take my eyes off the mirror. I think, I was falling in love with myself right there. Anyway, if I had seen a girl looking like that when I was a boy, I would have walked ten miles to get a date with her. It was a strange sensation: sixteen years as a boy I had never bothered much looking into mirrors. I knew what I looked like and I really was not very interested in it. A mirror I needed maybe once a day for combing or for checking if my tie was on straight and I had to look into it when brushing my teeth. But now — what a strange excitement my image suddenly produced in me. I simply could not turn away from it. An entirely different creature was suddenly looking back at me — a really beautiful one, sophisticated, elegant, even a little haughty with full red lips and large eyes set off by heavily mascaraed lashes and expertly applied eyeshadow under the veil. Was this really I, the boy that had existed for sixteen years until two days ago? Could anybody change so much in so little time? Was I under a spell? If I was under a spell, it must have been the spell of a good fairy, because I looked so beautiful.We tried on and bought a few more hats, then I put on the brown bowler again which went so well with my outfit. I could not stop looking into the mirror.”Come on beautiful, stop the self-admiration-session, we are ready to go.” Sylvia interrupted my reveries. She was already at the door with the bag with the other hats. I got up immediately, thanked the shop-ladies in passing and hurried after Sylvia. I think I had turned bright red because Sylvia had caught me in my self-admiration.We directed our steps back to the Croisette and to the Majestic Hotel. Sylvia told me to change and check my makeup. She told me that she had booked a table for us at the Moulin de Mougins restaurant. This really was a pleasant surprise. I knew that this is one of the famous ***-star restaurants of the Guide Michelin. Three stars in the Guide Michelin mean “it is worth making a whole trip just to eat there”.I undressed and went to the bathroom first to check my makeup and repair any damage that it might have suffered from the activities at the millinery store.”I put your dress and the other stuff on the bed. Be careful putting it on.” Sylvia disappeared into the bathroom when I was done there to get herself ready. I picked up the dress from the bed. It was one of the dresses we had bought this morning, a waltz-length cocktail dress made of a deep purple velvet. The neckline plunged to below the breasts and the decollete was filled with three rows of the finest lace standing up, a few shades lighter than the velvet. The skirt was very wide and stood out from three petticoats, one a stiff nylon net to get the crinoline effect, a taffeta one with large flounces which rustled deliciously and on top another taffeta one which was covered in the back with the same laces as appeared in the decollete. The first one, the strong nylon net, had another petticoat sewn into it which was rather narrow and checked the length of my steps severely.In the back the velvet was taken up from both sides and seemingly knotted into a bow over my buttocks so that the laces on the uppermost petticoat were freely seen. It was a beautiful gown and I had loved it already in the store, when I had tried it on.I changed my stockings to black ones with seams and took off my bra. I knew the gown would support and even lift up my breasts so that they were nicely nested in the lace and the round top of them could easily been seen. I had felt a little naughty when I tried it on this morning, flaunting my feminine charms like that, but if I had these charms, I decided again, it was no sense in hiding them.I stepped into the dress first. I would put on the petticoats under the dress later. I adjusted the shoulder straps and tried to close the back zipper. It would not go up. Try as I might, the waist of the dress was too tight. It was impossible. It had fitted well this very morning and I could not have gained several inches in one day. They must have sent the wrong size. Oh shit! I went to the bathroom and showed it to Sylvia. “Why, what do you mean it doesn’t fit. You haven’t put on your corset yet. Put on the little black one that I laid out on the bed and lace it tightly, then it will fit,” Sylvia stated matter- of-factly, not at all surprised.”But it fitted this morning without a corset! What did you do?””Well, you don’t really think you could just do as you please and not worry about your figure. Of course, with that figure of yours you will have to wear a corset with this dress. It will look ten times better with a corset than without one. And since we are going out to dinner, a tight corset will remind you not to eat too much and this again will be good for your figure. But if you don’t want to go out with me, just be comfortable and stay here. You cannot escape your corsets anyway. The outfit you are wearing today will be returned to Adelaide and I had altered all the dresses and skirts we bought today to fit with a corset. By the way I was very easy on you with the daytime wear. They are only three inches less in the waist than your uncorseted waist. It is just the cocktail and evening dresses that are made to fit over a fully laced corset. So relax and do not fight it. There is nothing you can do now. Nor tomorrow for that matter.”I was flabbergasted. She had done it again. I had to wear a wretched corset again. This certainly was enough for me to ruin the whole evening. I had persuaded myself not to raise any objections against being treated and dressed like a girl — but this was outrageous. None of the girls I knew wore a corset. Why did I have to? Sylvia and her scheming. I certainly will give her a piece of my mind if she comes out of the bathroom.In the meantime I struggled to get the corset around me. I had taken off my garterbelt, panties and the cache-sex to be able to move more freely. When I had succeeded in fastening the busk and began lacing up the back, a strange sensation came over me and suddenly my prick slowly rose and rose until it stood up like a flagpole. When I finally had succeeded in closing the gap entirely, I tied off the laces and wound the long ends around my waist. My prick would not go down. I fastened my stockings to the garter straps hanging down from the corset and walked over to the closet where I had hung the dress. I had to pass the floor length mirror at the wall. It was a very strange picture that I made. A pretty girl in full makeup in a corset with her nylons tautly gartered to it and her breasts lifted up with very erect large nipples — and a very masculine prick sticking out from her at full attention.The whole picture was a contradiction in itself, yet it was true. And it was also very exciting. As long as I saw me, the erection never would subside. I turned away from the mirror.It was impossible to put on the dress in this agitated state. I thought I would occupy my mind with other tasks and hope my prick would calm down enough to allow me to finish my dressing. On the bed I found the long evening gloves that we had bought in Florence and I thought I might as well put these on first. After I had smoothed them onto my arms almost to the shoulders and buttoned them at the wrists, my prick had stubbornly refused to retract to more manageable dimensions.Well, I thought, gaining time is everything now. It cannot hold forever. I sat down in front of the makeup mirror and brushed my hair. Then I got up again and fetched the hat that I was going to wear, the little three pointed one, put it on and fixed it securely in place with several hairpins. I was so engrossed by this task, that the prick slowly lost its stiffness. Ha — my plan was successful. To gain more time, I fetched the evening sandals I was going to wear, put them on and fiddled with the new and yet unyielding little straps until I succeeded to close the buckles. The pressure of the corset which almost prevented me to get enough air for breathing during this exercise and the concentration needed to get the damn little buckles closed, further deflated the little devil. There — I tricked him, he was soft again. I could proceed to put on the dress now.However when I got up and walked to the closet again and saw myself in the big mirror, it was all in vain, my prick jumped up as if a spring was released. And I defy any man who is not entirely dead to have the same reaction when he sees a picture like I saw in the mirror: a beautiful young girl, perfectly made up with a saucy little hat and a veil coming down over her face to her wet-looking full red lips, dressed in a very tight corset giving her a real hourglass figure with long suede evening gloves covering her arms to the shoulders, her breasts lifted up by the corset and presented as two round apples with large and evidently hard and excited nipples, her gleaming nylon stockings gartered to the corset and her feet balancing in evening sandals with rhinestones on the straps criss-crossing her feet and with heels almost 5 inches high. The only incongruous part of the picture was the prick. But be it as it may, there was a girl in the mirror, a sexily dressed or rather undressed girl, there could not be any doubt about that, and if there was a prick attached to this girl, then it was a girl with a prick, but for all intents and purposes a girl — period.I did not know what to do. I sat down on the bed and slowly started to stroke my prick, watching my image in the mirror in total confusion. The girl in the mirror was I — but I knew I was a boy and the prick proved it. But there was this girl that moved when I moved and which obviously were I too.Suddenly Sylvia burst upon me. “What the heck are you thinking you are doing? Who gave you permission to play with yourself? Why aren’t you dressed anyway?” I tried to explain what had happened and that I could not get dressed in this condition. She was fully made up but stark naked as she had come from the bathroom. This too was not exactly the medicine I needed to make my prick go down.”Just you wait, I will teach you play with yourself without my permission. You know quite well that I own this thing and I and only I have the right to use it. Come here!” She used a tone that did not permit any disagreement. I got up and slowly walked over to her. She had a pair of black nylon stockings in her hand. “Fold your hands before you,” she commanded and I complied. She wound each stocking around one wrist, knotted it leaving one long end. Then she took another stocking and knotted it around my neck, finishing it off with a little bow on the left side of my chin. “Here, now go ahead and play with yourself if you can.” With this she took the long ends of the stockings around my wrists, stepped behind me and drew my arms over my head, knotting the loose ends to the stocking around my neck. My arms were securely anchored behind my head. The position was not at all uncomfortable but I was totally helpless.She directed me in front of the mirror. She got another pair of stockings and tied my legs together above the knees and at the ankles. I was totally immobilized. The picture I saw in the mirror did nothing to dampen the excitement that had again welled up in me. Sylvia, however, did not pay any attention to me or to my excited state, she just progressed with her dressing, combed and set her hair, put on her dress, her gloves, her hat and her shoes.I must say she looked lovely too. She was in a black crepe dress which had a high collar around her throat and clung to her figure like wallpaper. The skirt was narrow and flared out only from the knees down to allow comfortable walking. The dress had long, narrow sleeves down to the wrists. It was in no way exceptional but everything had gone into the cut of it. The big surprise came when she turned and I saw her back. The dress had none. From the shoulders it plunged to the buttocks and you could see the start of the crease dividing them. A thin gold chain held the two sides together at the waist so they would not fall forward when she bent down. She looked deliciously sexy in this outfit.She came over to me and stood beside me. “Well, have you repented your sins? I see you are still in no condition to get dressed. OK then, if it is there and does not go away, let’s put it to use as it is.” She bent down and unfastened the stocking binding my ankles. “Move over to the bed now and lie down on it on your back.” I did as she had commanded. She retied my ankles and then raised her skirt to her hips and straddled me. Slowly she lowered herself on my rigid shaft, engulfing it with her warm and moist pussy. All I could do was moan. I was totally immobile and helpless. I looked into the mirror on the side and saw two girls one fully clad, one in a corset, with gloves and hat, screwing each other like mad. “Don’t you dare come before I have!” Sylvia warned me. I was continually on the brink of my orgasm but as soon as she sensed it, she stopped all movements only to begin again a little while later very softly and very slowly. After a while however she could not control herself any longer and bucked up and down like a cowboy riding a bronco at a rodeo. We both came simultaneously in a long lasting wonderful orgasm. She was quite exhausted, glided down and rested next to me for a few minutes, slowly stroking my nipples.”I really should just leave you here this way until I come back as a punishment.” She got up and went to the bathroom to clean herself. When she came back, she brought a wet towel and started to wash my lower parts, never making a move to unfasten my nylon fetters. I pleaded with her to let me come along, promising I would be a good boy. “What do you mean you will be a good boy, if I should take you along, you would have to be a good girl.” “Anything you say I will be, but please don’t leave me like this, please.” “OK then, I will take you along but: you will really have to concentrate on being a good girl and not get excited again. You will not be allowed to wear any panties or any cache-sex. Your dress has a lot of room under the petticoats and the narrow one might hold you down a little, but I cannot guarantee that a real erection would not be noticeable. Agreed?” “Of course, I agree, anything you want, but please untie me now and let me come along.”She released me, I put on my dress and the three petticoats, checked my makeup and my hat and off we went. When I got the wrap that Sylvia had given me and which was really nothing but a long shawl of taffeta which I put around my shoulders, I noticed that I had to be very careful with my decollete. When I drew both shoulders forward, my breasts lay quite open in their nest of lace and anybody standing at my side or in front of me while I bent forward a little bit, could see them in their entire beauty. Well, I would be careful to avoid this — or wouldn’t I? Maybe I could tease some unsuspecting male a little bit by allowing him some glimpses now and then.We went to the car. I was shivering a little bit in the cold November evening. Walking on the high heels with small steps, hearing the clicking of my heels on the concrete and feeling the petticoats swinging and softly touching my legs made me shiver too but from excitement.Sylvia started the motor and turned the car into the traffic heading for Mougins, which is a little town on the route to Grasse. While she was concentrating on the night-driving, I thought I had a good chance to take up the question of the corsets again without risking immediate reprisal. “Say, Sylvia, why do I have to wear corsets all the time when none of the other girls at our school is wearing one? Corsets have long gone out of style and girls are even running around with no bras now. How come you make me wear one all the time?”She was seemingly ignoring the criticism in my words. Here tone was the tone of a patient mother explaining the facts of life to her c***d: “Look, you are a boy, right?” “Right.” “And therefore you have the body of a boy. — Or don’t you have a prick like boys do?” “Yes I do.” “See, the body of a boy is different from a girl’s body. Now it is true, you have very pretty girlish breasts, but the basic structure of your body is still boyish and therefore we need the corset to correct this. Your waist is too wide in relation to your hips. Now we could pad your hips and your behind to correct the relation to feminine standards. But this would ruin your figure as a whole. You would just look like a fat bottomed housewife. I therefore took the other alternative: reducing the waist to get the correct relation to your slim hips. This looks much better as you can see any time you look into a mirror. Slim hips make you a first rate model for dresses but only if they go together with an even slimmer, well-defined waist and since you do not have one naturally, we create one with the help of the corsets. Isn’t this obvious even to your little birdbrain?””Yes, I understand this, but I do not have to have the perfect figure. I did not choose to wear girls’ clothes and if I look bad in them, you are responsible for it. You started it all. I want to wear comfortable clothes like jeans and T-shirts and baseball boots instead of blouses, tight skirts and high heels. They are so uncomfortable for a real boy.” “Now listen to the cheap imitation macho! Your comfort is all you ever care about. But who ogles girls in high heels and tight skirts and sweaters all the time and whistles after them? Who wants to see us wear these things? It’s you and your kind. But you were right with one thing: I am responsible for what you wear. Therefore, and while you brought up the subject: I do not want to hear any objections from you if I tell you to wear something. My decision from this moment on is to be final and has to go undisputed by you whatever I tell you to wear — and this includes not only your clothes and all of them from shoes to hats and from lingerie to coats, but also makeup, jewelry and everything that influences you appearance. Is that clear?”I was sorry that I ever touched the subject. I tried to get around an answer by just keeping quiet. “Is that clear? I asked you something!” she insisted. “Watch this curve!” I tried to change the subject but to no avail. “Don’t interfere with my driving. If you do not like it, you can get out and walk home or take the bus.”She brought the car to a stop and turned to me. “Let us settle this right here and now. I want you to promise me solemnly not to object to any of my wishes concerning what you have to wear and how you should look. And if I want you to walk down the Croisette in nothing but a corset and high heels on Christmas eve you will do this without a word of protest.”This was crazy and horrifying and yet the thought stirred strange feelings in me when I envisioned this strange picture: me in high heels and corset, my breasts jiggling up and down for everyone to see, my naked behind swinging with every mincing step I took and my prick sticking out in front of me, walking down the Croisette among busy last day Christmas shoppers. The thought was terrifying but at the same time it caused strange sensations deep within me. Sylvia eyed me curiously, she seemed to be reading my mind.”Well, give me an answer now. And if you don’t want to give me this promise, you may as well get out of the car here and now and get lost because I never want to see you again.” She even leaned across me and opened the door on my side to emphasize her threat. The cold breeze crept under my skirts and again made me shiver. Or was it the decision I had to make now? I knew I would give myself into her hands completely now, If I surrendered to her wish, and I was to be a man, and it was for the man to tell his wife what to do and not the other way around. But there was this little voice in me that told me of the sweetness of surrendering to the wishes of a woman, to succumb to her will and I saw pictures of me in beautiful dresses with Sylvia showing me off to her friends. I was torn between the two sides in me: the rational reasoning “you have to be a man” and the troubling emotions dragging me into Sylvia’s net.”Well, what is it now, have you reached your decision, do you want to walk home?” That did it. I simply could not leave the car in the middle of nowhere miles from the next house dressed just in a cocktail frock and skimpy high heeled sandals which were made for a polished dance floor but not for a rough country road. My rationality suddenly sided with my emotions.”OK, I promise,” I heard myself say, still not sure whether I meant it. But there would certainly come a better occasion to discuss this promise with Sylvia than in a dark night on a country road with her holding all the trump cards.”All right darling, you will not regret it. I will make you so pretty, you will love it.” She leaned over again and closed the door. I was still in a daze. “And I promise you not to send you down the Croisette in just high heels and a corset — at least I would give you a mink coat to wear over it.” This picture again stirred my emotions and I cuddled against her to seek shelter and comfort with her warm body. The tension slowly slacked off when Sylvia started the car again and continued our trip to Mougins.It was exactly as the Guide Michelin had promised: the food was excellent, the wine great and the prices out of this world. But we did not care tonight. We both enjoyed dinner immensely and not just the food and wine but also the attention we got not only from the waiters but from everybody who saw us. We apparently made quite a hit with the male population up there in the mountains. Of course, there were actually no locals present. All of the guests had come here from the cities and towns along the Cote d’Azur. Most of them reeked of money and some were even very good looking.One or two invented some business that required getting up from their tables and pass ours a few times and each time they passed, I had to turn their way and reach for my purse or my napkin and lean over a little bit, playing peek-a-boo with my decollete. Several times I could see that their stride suddenly changed and they somehow seemed to bend over a little from their hips so as to reduce some strain. I could well imagine the reason for this and I smiled inwardly. Outside I was quite innocent looking and seemingly oblivious to what was going on and what troubles I had caused. Sylvia however had instantly become aware of what I was up to and I earned several kicks in the shin from her. “Don’t do this, you little cock teaser,” she hissed to me, “you just wait till I get you outside, I will make you pay for this.” But I enjoyed this little play so much, I wouldn’t stop.It was about 10:00 or 10:30 p.m. when we finished our meal leisurely and Sylvia had paid the bill. This is the good thing about plastic money: you do not feel as bad just signing the slip, as you would if you had to hand over a big stack of big notes in hard cash.Before we went out Sylvia led me into the ladies room which at the moment was quite deserted. Once inside she stepped behind me. “Give me your hands,” she ordered. I complied and before I could realize what was happening, she had knotted a stay-lace around each wrist. She then pulled down my gown in the back just enough to get at the top lacing of my corset, threaded the stay-laces through it and began pulling. My wrists were suddenly anchored at my shoulder blades and she knotted the ends of the laces together. The whole operation had taken about twenty seconds or so.”What are you doing — you cannot make me go outside like this. We have to cross the whole restaurant to get to the entrance.” “Of course, I can and I will. That’s your punishment for being such a cock teaser. People should see that you are being punished for your bad behavior. But I will show mercy. I will arrange your wrap so your predicament will not be too obvious. Only people familiar with such things will notice anything out of the ordinary.” She d****d the taffeta wrap around me from the front and knotted it high on the back so that its long ends covered my bound arms completely as I could see in the mirror.”All right, off we go.” She simply turned around and left the ladies room letting me stand there. I hurried right behind her trying to walk as nonchalantly and looking as inconspicuously as possible keeping close to Sylvia and averting all looks from the people around us. We finally made it to the street but not without a detour through half of the restaurant because Sylvia wanted to go back to our table to check that we did not forget anything, always with me in tow.I was quite disheartened when we reached the car. Sylvia opened the door for me and motioned me to get in. “I can’t with my hands tied like that.” “Oh yes you can.” She turned me around with my back to the open door, held one hand behind my neck and shoved the other into my groin, doubling me up like a jackknife. I fell into the seat when I lost my balance and my legs flew up. Sylvia grabbed them and simply turned them into the car. “See how simple it is? But we will have to rehearse this some more some other time to teach you to do it more gracefully. “Please untie me,” I begged. “Why, does it hurt?” “No it doesn’t but what will people say if they see me this way?” “Nobody can see it in the car.” With this she went around to the driver’s side, got in and started our descend toward Cannes.When we had parked the car, Sylvia suggested a night cap at the bar of the hotel. I agreed but begged her to release my arms before we went there or I would rather not go. “Why this? Nobody noticed it at the restaurant, so why should somebody see it here? It’s very late already and there won’t be many people around anyway. And you have to be punished for your cock- teasing back there, you know that. But if you don’t want to come along, suit yourself and go upstairs. However you will have to go to the concierge and get the key first and I wonder how you would explain to him that you take it between your lips.” So what could I do but agree to come along. All she would do, was adjust the wrap at my shoulders and my back so my bound arms were at least not too obvious.We crossed the empty hall and went into the bar. There were about two or three couples that were very engrossed with each other and did not pay any attention and one table with four or five people engaged in a heated conversation who couldn’t care less who else was around.We sat down at the bar on the high bar stools and Sylvia ordered a bottle of champagne. “Don’t you think this is too much for the two of us?” “Don’t worry, we can take the rest upstairs. I am not going to ruin the good memory of the wine at the restaurant with some ghastly concoctions of different spirits and waters that remind me of the waste of a chemical plant.” “But, please now let me free, I can’t get a drink this way, pretty please.” I pleaded with her.”All right then, if you insist, I won’t keep you tied against your will — but remember, punishment time is not over yet.” I turned my back to her and she cut off the strings that had held my arms in a double hammer lock. Was I glad to be able to take down my arms! I had to stretch them for a few seconds to get the stiffness out. Sylvia suddenly reached into my decollete, unfastened some snaps and with a flick of her hand removed the lace insert that had covered my tits. “You were showing your titties all around at the restaurant without my permission. Now you have it, now you can flaunt them anyway you like.”All I could do was to quickly fold my arms across my breasts and sit very still, hoping that nobody had watched what had happened, but evidently nobody paid any attention to us. I wanted to grab my wrap to cover myself but Sylvia had already snatched it away from me and announced she would go upstairs and change her shoes because the ones she was wearing were a little uncomfortable. Before I could decide if it was better to follow her or just stay put, she was gone and had taken my wrap with her. Here I was sitting in a public bar with bare tits all alone. What if some man were to just wander in and sit down next to me — I was too afraid to picture the inevitable consequences. I shivered.But to my luck nobody came until Sylvia returned after a few minutes. She held her glass high and said cheers to me. I did not know how to respond. I could not raise my glass without uncovering myself. So I just sipped from it trying to hold my arms over my bosom in the most natural looking possible way. Although I was not tied now, I could not use my arms as I wanted; in reality, I was still in bondage.Sylvia clearly enjoyed herself and the situation and chatted away about the clothes we had bought and that I needed another purse and more stockings and about the school and the other girls and on and on. The champagne had rekindled her spirits thoroughly. I was not tired either but for me the situation was much less enjoyable.After some time, two other girls came into the bar. Both were very elegantly dressed in short evening gowns. They sat next to us at the bar. The barman had just stepped out to get something from the kitchen and they could not get a drink right away. “Boy, what a night — we were lucky to get away alive,” I heard one of them say. “Yes, but the show was good and they were very responsive. Maybe we were coming on a little too strong for them. They got a bit over-enthusiastic at the end,” the other replied. “I need a drink right away.” “I, too, where is the barman?”Sylvia took up the conversation with them: “He just went out to fetch something, he will be back soon. But in the meantime allow me to invite you to share our champagne, it’s too much for the two of us anyhow.” The girls accepted gracefully and soon we were all drinking champagne and talking. It turned out that they had played at a private party in Antibes but were staying at our hotel. They were from Paris and had come down just for this party. They told us the name of the show they had worked in Paris, but I had not heard of it before. They explained, that at the end they did something like a reverse striptease, coming onto the stage undressed and slowly and with much ado they would dress each other for a night out, talking about the boyfriends they were going to meet and how the night would probably end. When they were completely dressed, they would step down from the stage and walk through the audience just as two other guests and disappear in the back.We chatted along with them, they were very funny and we laughed a lot about their stories. After a little while we introduced each other and another bottle of champagne later we had already reached the first name stage. They were Lise and Louise, Lise (in French this rhymes with freeze) being the taller one, a stunning redhead who was obviously in command. Louise was a charming brunette, less extroverted and as I watched them I noticed that Louise was paying a lot of attention to Lise’s actions and whenever she needed some help, a match, a napkin or just the right word for her tale, Louise would be there to supply what was needed. Lise took this absolutely for granted and did not even acknowledge the help.We were the last guests and even the barman grew a little impatient with us, disappearing for longer and longer periods, always hoping that we would be gone when he returned.The conversation became more and more erotic, all these stories about the strip shows and the reaction of the men — we were suddenly teasing each other about our erotic preferences and such things. Sylvia suddenly took me by my hands and spread my arms wide. “Well, what do you think about our little cock-teasing friend here, sitting all night at a bar with bare titties?” She drew me down from the bar stool and started dancing with me around the room, still holding my hands. Suddenly my petticoats began to slide down and soon rested on the floor. I did not grasp how this could have happened, but there they were on the dance floor. Sylvia continued to whirl me around so that the other girls saw my back. Oops — it suddenly dawned on me that not only my bosom was bare, but my bottom was completely naked too as the velvet overskirt left my entire lower back uncovered. Sylvia, the sly fox, must have cut the strings that held up my petticoats when she cut the strings that held my arms.Lise and Louise started to applaud us and joined our dancing. “Great show, excellent!” Suddenly I was dancing with Lise cheek to cheek. Lise did have very roaming hands and intermittently caressed my bosom and my backside. Sylvia seemed to have as much fun with Louise. Sylvia suddenly stopped and said: “Why don’t we all go up to our suite — it’s much more comfortable there and we’ll have a lot of fun.” Everybody agreed at once. Lise took the champagne bottle along and I tried to get hold of my petticoats, but Sylvia had already snatched them up and led the way across the hall to the elevators. I had no choice but to follow her in my shocking state of dress. Luckily nobody seemed to notice us, not the concierge nor the doorman nor the bellboy — or they were just too well trained to let anything on.When we got to our rooms, the first thing Sylvia said was: “Let’s fix up our little cock-teaser here so she cannot tease us too.” She proceeded to tie me up with the stockings in the same way as she had tied me before we left with my arms anchored behind my neck, elbows sticking up. “Here Louise, go ahead and tease her a little, so she gets to know what she did to the men all night long. Don’t be afraid, she is quite harmless this way.”We were — except me with my naked tits and bum — all still fully dressed, I had even my little veiled hat still on and the long gloves.Louise came over to me and started caressing my breasts and my bottom, kissing my nipples that had been excited and erect for the whole evening, kissing me deeply on the mouth playing with my tongue, twirling my nipples with her fingers, never giving me a chance to relax. I started moaning and rubbed myself against her body. Of course, my prick had risen during these activities to its fullest dimensions and was now pressing hard against her body.”Hey, what is this,” she suddenly drew back and lifted my skirt, grabbing my prick. “Lise, look what I found here!” “OK, darling, you know how to handle this situation, go ahead you have my blessings,” Lise just threw one glance over to us, registering the fact that this other girl, I, had a prick and was really a boy with not more amazement than she might register a compliment by her hairdresser. She was deeply entangled with Sylvia on the bed and left Louise to pursue her own interests. Louise started right away by taking my hard prick into her warm, soft mouth, licking and sucking it, moving up and down its shaft.”Don’t drain her completely, I want to have a go at her too later on,” Lise shouted from the bed after a short while. Louise continued her ministrations to my cock with great expertise, never letting me come, always driving me to the brink but never pushing me over it.It was a very troubling picture that I saw in the big mirror. There was I, still in my dress with hat and long gloves, my hands tied, unable to do anything, perched on my high heels and having a beautiful girl suck my cock. I almost swooned but I did not want to lose even one second of this.Suddenly she stopped. “Now it’s your time, baby.” With that she got up from the floor and helped me to kneel down in front of her. She reached under her skirt and took down her panties, then raised the skirt up to her hips.I thought somebody had touched me with a live wire: from under her skirt appeared a cock just as big and just as hard as mine. I backed off: “Sylvia, Louise has a cock, she is a boy!” I shouted. “Well, now you know it too. What do you think I am riding on here — Lise has one too and a beauty it is too. I don’t know what you especially should find so shocking about it. Enjoy yourself with it. You should know what pleases a cock most.”I couldn’t do very much anyway, Louise had pressed her big thing into my open mouth and started to really fuck my mouth. I had to take care that I got enough air between her thrusts. She was so excited, that it took her only seconds to shoot her load into my throat. I just had to swallow it all, I would have gagged otherwise. She did not take it out right away but urged me to suck it dry and lick it clean. I complied, I was too dazed by this surprising and totally unexpected turn of events, I just did was I was asked to do, not thinking at all.Meanwhile back at the bed things seemed to have progressed to the final stage too if I interpreted the sounds emanating from this direction correctly. When I turned, I saw Sylvia, still fully dressed too, riding up and down in sheer ecstasy and Lise thrusting from below, moaning and rolling her head from side to side deliriously until suddenly both collapsed like punctured tires.Louise had picked me up from my kneeling position and started again to fondle me, my tits, my bottom and my prick that still stood straight like a flagpole. I was really frustrated. Everybody else had come already, only I had been denied relief from my tension and desires. But tied up as I was, I was helpless, I could not do anything about it.”Come here darling,” Sylvia had noticed my gloomy looks, “now we will all make you happy. But first let’s all get undressed a little more. Untie her please, will you, Lise?” Lise came over to me and undid the knots in the stockings that held my wrists to the back of my neck. She then unzipped my dress in the back and let me step out of it. Sylvia had shed her dress too and since she had not worn anything under it but a garterbelt and stockings, she was quite naked now. Louise had also taken off her dress but she had a beautiful corset underneath to which her stockings were tightly gartered. When Lise was finished with me, she too took off her dress and revealed a very sexy corset too. Both boy-girls had really pretty tits too.”See,” Sylvia pointed out to me right away, “all boy-girls have to wear corsets.” She was not one to let a good chance slip away to make a point. It was only much later that I learned, that these corsets of Lise and Louise were part of their show. People apparently got a special kick out of watching these girls on the stage lacing each other into their corsets.We all were in a sexy state of undress now. We all had a glass of champagne from the bottle we had brought up from the bar and standing together we caressed each others bodies. Sylvia took the now soft penises of Lise and Louise and slowly began to masturbate them. “Let’s see if we cannot instill a little life into these sorry looking little creatures.” She was obviously succeeding as soon again their pricks seemed to show some life and began to rise again.I started nestling with my hairpins to take off my hat without pulling out too many hairs. Sylvia stepped behind me to help me but when I finally had untangled the hairpins from the hairs, she had cunningly threaded the stockings, that were still knotted around my wrists through the stoking around my neck again and pulled my arms to my back, fastening them as they had been before. Again I was completely helpless and in the power of the other girls. Strangely enough this did nothing to diminish my excitement, on the contrary, when I realized what was going on, my prick that had slackened down a bit during my fumbling with my hair sprung up again and betrayed my innermost emotions like a compass needle.Sylvia directed Louise to lie down on the bed on her back and me to kneel astride her in the old 69-position. Sylvia gave me a little push and when I fell forward, she directed my fall so that Louise’s penis slipped directly into my mouth. As I could not use my arms to support me, I could not get up again, all I could do was to lick and suck the growing rod. Sylvia pushed a pillow between my shoulders and Louise’s groin so I could move my head more freely. Louise helped by moving her ass in all directions. She had pushed a big pillow under her head and taken my prick into her mouth, licking and sucking it as I did hers. My ass was sticking out big and round at the edge of the bed.After a few minutes of quiet sucking and licking Sylvia suddenly announced “And now my dear girl we will pop your cherry.” I couldn’t see what she was up to and was taken by surprise when she suddenly started to massage my anus. She had put a little cream on her finger and began to shove it in and out the tight hole. “Just relax, don’t clench your cheeks together, just relax, doesn’t this feel good?” I remembered that it is impolite to speak with a full mouth so I did not answer. I really was ashamed to let on that I liked it a lot, but I am afraid that by my movements she undoubtedly saw that she caused me great pleasure.Suddenly she stopped and I felt something bigger at my asshole, pushing and prying to gain entrance and soon succeeding.”My god, I am being fucked up the ass!” The thought terrified me but at the same time it caused such a sensation within me that it took only a few minutes more to bring me to orgasm — the strongest, most intense that I ever had reached. I cried in ecstasy and finally slumped to the side totally spent.When I recovered, I tried to sort out the thoughts that started flashing through my mind. Was I gay now? I had had sex with two boys — or had I? They were girls — weren’t they? They dressed like girls, they looked and smelled like girls, they even had girls’ bodies with real tits — they must be girls — but they had pricks and I had sucked one and had been fucked by another one in the ass. Girls did not have pricks. I had a prick too and consequently I was a boy — but I looked like a girl too and today I really had felt like a girl, I even had teased the men at the restaurant with my sexy body. Was I really still a boy? And I had been fucked like a girl, did that make me a girl now? The champagne had made me dizzy. Was I just drunk and imagining things? Was all this just a dream — a dream — a dream — a dream …?I must have passed out then. When I woke up, it was bright day already. I tried to recall the events of the previous evening but I did not know if all the things that I seemed to remember really had happened or if I had just dreamed them. Sylvia was in the bathroom, I heard her sing in the shower. I still had on my corset, stockings and gloves but somebody had untied my hands. I was alone. I got up with a strong urge to go to the toilet. When Sylvia heard me entering the bathroom, she greeted me: “Hello, good morning lazy bones, did you finally wake up? It’s close to eleven already and I have ordered a nice brunch for half past eleven. So hurry, remove your makeup, take a shower and put on your corset, slip into a negligee, and put on fresh makeup. Lise and Louise will be over for brunch and I want you to look presentable.”While I was getting myself ready, I asked Sylvia why she didn’t seem surprised by the fact that Lise and Louise were boys in dresses. “Well, they told us, didn’t you hear it?” “I heard nothing of the sort.” “Well they did not exactly tell us they had pricks, but they told us that they had worked in Paris at the Carrousel and at Madame Arthur’s — and everybody knows, that these shows are all male. All of the showgirls really are boys. Some are transvestites who just dress as girls, many are transsexuals who ultimately go through the operations to become girls completely. At first I just did not know of which kind Lise and Louise were, but I had checked this already down at the bar with some casual touches and knew what to expect.” “Then why didn’t you tell me?” “And ruin your surprise? No way baby, I wanted you to find it out for yourself.”Half an hour later I was scrubbed clean, perfectly made up and had my hair set. I was wearing a negligee set of dark blue satin with lots of lace around the shoulders, at the long cuffs and around the hem. On my feet I had a pair of high heeled pretty blue velvet mules covered with gold embroidery. Sylvia had asked me to put on my corset again, but under the wide nightgown and negligee I thought it was not necessary — I would probably have to put it on later anyway when we would depart, but I wanted to be free of it as long as I could. I supposed Sylvia could not see whether I wore one, because the folds of the satin would hide my forms thoroughly. Actually I did not even wear panties or a cache-sex under my nightgown.Half past eleven the room service wheeled in a table stacked with all delicacies imaginable and set the table for four in our salon. Five minutes later Lise and Louise walked in. They looked great, almost like twins. They wore floor length morning gowns in an identical design: they had wide, large collars that left the shoulders almost bare with a plunging neckline. They were buttoned all the way down to the hem like coats. They had short but big puffed sleeves and a narrow waist. Their skirts widened all the way down to the hem and stood out all around, the skirts must have had a stiffening lining to make them stand out that way. The material was moire taffeta, Lise’s was emerald green, Louise’s ruby red. When they passed me, I saw they both wore high heeled mules with swan downs on their insteps.”Well, how do we look? These coats actually are the costumes we make our entrance in for our “reverse striptease act” that we told you about yesterday. We come in wearing these and after some going back and forth to show them off we start taking them off. Of course, we do it slowly and teasingly, starting to unbutton them from the hem up, let the audience see our legs first, then unbutton the top and let them have a glimpse of our tits and then take them off altogether with our backs to the audience.””What are you wearing underneath then?” I asked Lise, who was explaining and at the same time doing it together with Louise just as if they were on the stage.”Well, that depends on where we work and for what kind of an audience. If it is a public hall or theater, we wear our corsets half laced and keep our pricks well hidden. If it is a nightclub with a sophisticated clientele, we wear at least panties, but we make sure, that one can see the male bulge in them to physically prove beyond anybody’s doubt that we do have male equipment. And sometimes, if we work at a wild stag party or for a similar private audience, we are stark naked underneath and make sure, our pricks are showing their full dimensions, if not erect. This usually shocks the guys completely. First seeing us as perfect females, then our male pricks and then have them watch us turn into girls in beautiful dresses again.”Today they wore their corsets but no panties and their penises really were half erect. Instead of taking of their coats, they put them back on again and sat down at the table.”You know, the big crescendo comes at the end, after we laced each others corsets and are all dressed up to go. We appear to switch out the lights on the stage. At the same moment the house lights come on and we leave the stage through the audience — mingling with the other people just like some normal, if exquisitely dressed girls. Sometimes — like, for instance, last night at this private party — we have to be very fast to reach the exit safely. But ordinarily we take our time, usually in theaters, to slowly walk up the aisle, even flirting with some men from the audience. People usually crane their necks so far that they are in danger to dislocate a disc, just to watch us walk out to the last moment.””Sounds exciting, but do start to eat now, please, the coffee is not getting any hotter, neither are the eggs,” Sylvia invited everybody and soon we were all having a delicious brunch.”You know, our little darling here,” Sylvia sometime later began, looking at me, “really could use some training in feminine movements like you just showed us with your big entrance. She has been in skirts for only three days, so her former personality still shows through sometimes. Louise, why don’t you show her how to disrobe sexily and with feminine charm. Go ahead and give her a demonstration and show her how to do it.” “Great idea!” Lise seconded her. “Go ahead you two, give us a show.”Louise got up and motioned me to follow her. She first walked with me around the room, correcting the way I set my steps, the way I held my hands and arms and much more. After a few minutes she started to take off her coat again, telling me to follow her lead, showing me how to step out of my negligee and dropping my nightgown sexily.”Hey you little imp,” Sylvia shouted when I was naked, “didn’t I tell you to put on your corset this morning? You thought you were clever enough to pull a fast one on me, eh? No such chance! Or did you forget what you promised me yesterday? You promised to always dress just as I requested it and I distinctly told you to put on your corset this morning. Not later on. This morning is what I said. Well, if you think you can rebel against my wishes, you will have to face the consequences. First: Louise, please get her corset from the bedroom and lace her into it — and tightly, until the sides meet. I told you, you would not have to close it all the way,” she was speaking to me again, “but as a punishment you will have to wear your corsets laced to the limit now for a whole week, day and night.”I was crestfallen and tried to explain, that I hadn’t understood her words to mean to put the corset on under the nightgown, but she didn’t relent.Louise came and on her face I could see she was delighted to have the opportunity to lace me in. She started right away and did it expertly. To my greatest sorrow my prick started to grow and grow with every pull she took. When she was finally done, it was quite agitated and fully erect. When Lise discovered it, she cried out “Look what we got here! Why don’t we bury it in some nice, warm, dark place.” She got up from the table and came to us. “Turn around and bend over this stuffed chair here.” She directed Louise toward it, pulling me along. She turned back to the table and dipped her finger into the butter, which she then rubbed into Louise’s ass. “All set now, do your best, she loves it — at least she loved it an hour ago with me.” And she guided my hard prick to Louise’s ass. I shoved and shoved and soon entered her round behind. I reached around her and held on to her tits, kneading them and playing with her nipples. Soon she was moaning with pleasure and from the way she moved her ass and pressed it against me, I could see she liked it a lot. One of her hands went down to her cock and started to massage it. I was so excited, it only took a few more minutes for me to reach the top and shoot my load into her.”Hey, you are a spoil sport. Haven’t you learned yet that you have to withhold your orgasm until the lady you are with has reached hers?” Lise scolded me, when I withdrew from Louise exhausted. “Just look what state you left her in.” When Louise slumped into the big chair, her prick stood up like a flagpole. “Well, do something about it, use your mouth and I don’t mean for talking,” Lise continued. Louise pulled me around facing her and made me kneel down in front of her, grabbing my head with both hands and directing my mouth over her prick. I opened my mouth and started to suck and lick its head, letting my tongue play around its rim, taking it into my mouth entirely, letting it slip out, licking and sucking away as best as I could and stroking up and down its shaft with my hand. It seemed to please her a lot and after some minutes, I felt the hot semen spurt into my mouth.”Now that our two love-slaves have had their pleasure, I think they should serve us in the same way,” Sylvia suggested. Lise was all for it. The show that we had presented apparently had started their juices flowing too. They called us and made us kneel in front of them. They raised their skirts and spread their legs. “Come hear my little darling and show me what a versatile tongue you have. After that nice big cock it can now go to work on my eagerly waiting little clit.” She had moved to the very front of her chair to give me easy access to her sweet cunt. Before I was covered with her skirt, I could see that Louise was eagerly engulfing Lise’s big and erect prick. I did my very best to please Sylvia as I had done so many times before and led her to several quivering orgasms before she raised her skirts and let me free again.”Well,” she finally stated “This was a very nice and exciting morning, but I think we should all get dressed now and pack our things. Are you flying back to Paris today?” she asked Lise. “Yes, there is a plane at four p.m. from Nice, we are booked on that.” “Great, then we can take you to the airport before we return to our school.”Louise had already put her coat back on and was about to leave. Lise halted for a moment and took up a plastic bag that she had deposited at the door when she had come in. It bore the label of the “Lise and Louise Boutique” in Paris. Last night at the bar they had already told us that doing shows was more of a hobby for them now and mainly their work consisted of running their own boutique on the left bank, on the Boulevard Saint Michel to be exact.”Here I brought you a little “bag of tricks” with some items which I used in training Louise, I don’t need them right now and I am sure these will be put to good use by you, if you plan on training Renee some more. She seems in need of some training as she appears to be a little sassy sometimes. This will certainly her dampen spirits a bit and prevent her from shooting off her mouth.” “Well thank you! It’s just what I had in mind to get for her anyway, but down here these things are hard to get. I had planned to do some shopping in Paris during the holidays. But I am glad to have this now.” Sylvia was pleasantly surprised when she looked into the bag. I was curious of what this bag may contain, but I didn’t dare ask, because the hints of Lise did not sound as if the contents would bring much enjoyment to me and I did not want to provoke an immediate demonstration.We agreed to meet in the hall in 30 minutes and hurried to get our things together. We packed all the new things that we had bought into two big suitcases that we had brought for this purpose. The skirt and sweater ensemble I had worn yesterday was packed too. Sylvia laid out a chic little skirted suit of dark red wool for me to wear. Its jacket had a velvet collar and sleeves with little puffed shoulders and upturned velvet cuffs. When I put it on later, it turned out to be very tight in the waist and it accented my hips with a peplum with large soft folds. With it came a pink organza blouse which closed in the back in the Victorian style with a high collar reaching almost to my chin and with leg-o’-mutton sleeves.Before I put it on, I had to repair my makeup, draw on my stockings which were the same color as the suit and slip on black high heeled pumps. When I put the skirt on, which barely covered the knees, I discovered that since I had tried it on at the boutique not only the waist had been altered to my corseted size but also the slit in the back that had allowed normal steps had disappeared and my legs were quite hobbled by the skirt. However, not wanting to risk another reprisal, I kept my mouth shut about it and let it go at that.Just when we were ready to walk out the door, Sylvia dug into the bag Lise had brought and took something out. She told me to turn around and fold my hands on my back. I heard two clicks and couldn’t move my arms anymore. When I looked back over my shoulder into the mirror behind me, I saw my wrists encircled by a pair of shining golden handcuffs.”Please don’t make me go down like that,” I begged, but instead of removing the handcuffs Sylvia just gave me a flat handbag to hold. “This way nobody will see your fetters. Just walk naturally and nobody will notice anything.” With that she shoved me out the door. Downstairs, she paid our bill and asked to have our bags brought down and put into the car. Lise and Louise came down too. While we waited for the bags, we stood in the hall chatting. I was embarrassed having to stand there with my hands tied on my back. I leaned with my back to the cashiers high desk and hoped nobody would notice my predicament but I think I saw some sly glances in my direction by two bellboys. Nobody however said anything. The staff of big hotels probably sees so many strange people, they overlook such things with stoic professionalism. Lise suddenly rummaged in the “bag of tricks” and came up with a good handful of gold chains “You should wear a necklace really,” she said and proceeded to fasten one tightly around my neck. I couldn’t see it yet, but it had an intricate design like a choker, almost two inches wide with a big golden ornament in front. It fitted my neck very snugly. Not that it hurt, but I could feel it all around my neck. I was about to say “Thank you, Lise!” when she suddenly affixed a golden chain leash to the ornament and gave the looped end to Sylvia. Instead of me, Sylvia said “Thank you, Lise!” and quietly turned around to walk out to the car, leading me on the leash. I hoped the earth would open up and swallow me, but no such luck. All I could do was follow her. I cannot describe the feelings that befell me as I was led through the now busy Hotel hall on a leash fixed to my collar, I still shiver thinking back to it.Finally we were all sitting in the car and on our way to Nice Airport. Sylvia went all the way down the Croisette until she missed the left turn to go to the highway to Nice and I told her so. “Please let me drive, I know where I am going and if I need your advice, I’ll ask for it.” I was sitting in the front seat and Lise behind me. Suddenly Lise reached around my head and told me to open my mouth wide. As I started to ask her why, she shoved a rounded, oblong object into my mouth somewhat larger than a golf ball. It was made of a strong elastic material and filled with some kind of thick fluid or gel because it adapted itself immediately to the inside of my mouth, filling it completely when I closed it. A little chain ran through it and I felt it being pulled back and then heard a little click when the ends were locked together. I was very thoroughly gagged. “That will stop all unwanted back-seat driving,” she stated flatly as she let herself fall back into her seat.I could not close my mouth completely over the thick gag but managed to close my lips over it in the attempt to hide it from the view of others. I couldn’t even protest or object, it all had happened so fast. Lise must have had considerable practice fastening the necklace with the chain and the gag judging by the time it had required to put both on me and I pitied Louise who probably had been the subject Lise had practiced on. Strange as it may seem, the terrible situation I found myself in, thrilled me to the bones. Sure, I was gagged and led on a leash and my hands were fettered on my back, but somehow this and the fact that I was dressed as a girl all caused a whole avalanche of pleasant sensations in me. I tried to push them back as I knew it to be wrong for a boy to have such feelings, but I did not succeed. In spite of the fact that I was tightly corseted, gagged and had my hands bound behind my back, the only way to describe my innermost feelings was bliss. I never knew I had this in me, but there was no way of denying it now.While we were driving and I was left to my thoughts, I let the events of last night and this morning pass in review. Something troubled me again. I never had liked men. I had never found any erotic attraction whatsoever in their bodies even if they were aesthetically perfect. Yet yesterday and today technically I had made love with two boys and had thoroughly enjoyed it. It must have been that I had not seen boys in them despite their pricks, but had been attracted to them as girls according to the appearance of their bodies. I had simply just seen the girls in them and if they had pricks, well then they had been girls with pricks but still girls. So really I had not made love with boys, I had made love with girls. And if I had permitted Lise to fuck me, it was that I at this moment felt so much like a girl myself, that it was the natural way of making love. So we had made love to each other as two girls would do. The only sensible conclusion therefore was, that I was a girl who had had a lesbian affair. When I had reached this result, my troubled mind quieted down and I again drifted into the state of elation that had been interrupted by my thought stream.Before we left Lise and Louise at the airport, they made us promise to visit them in Paris during the coming Christmas holidays. They invited us to their home, where we could stay and feel comfortable. Sylvia turned the car around and waved a cheery good-bye to the two chic girls. As they were standing there negotiating with the sky-captain, nobody could have the slightest suspicion that they both really were boys in girls’ dresses.We soon turned north to the road to Grasse and were on our way back to the school.”These were two rather eventful and I think important days for you, my dear,” Sylvia began in a sober tone. “I hope you understand, that your position and status in life has completely changed during these days. You are no longer a boy at all. It is not only that you are now wearing girls clothes. You have been fucked like a girl and sucked cocks like a girl. So now you really are a girl. And presently you are corseted, gagged and bound. That means you are a slave too. My slave to be exact. You already promised to obey me in all my wishes regarding your appearance. Now I want you to promise me that you will accept me as your mistress, your absolute mistress, your owner.””I do not offer you any inducements, I do not make any promises — well except maybe that I will never injure you, I may have to hurt you now and then, but I will not cause you real injuries. Now it is your decision alone. You can either accept it or we will part and go our separate ways. If you do not accept, I shall turn around, get you some jeans and other boys stuff, take you to the train station and you can go home. If you accept, you will live with me as a girl and as my chattel at least until we finish school. I do not want you to make a decision now for any longer time. But for the next two years this is what your position in life will be and there will be no escaping. Think about it for a moment and then tell me.”Somehow I had known since we stepped into the car that it would come to this, but now I was still surprised when it really happened. However, the feelings that I had experienced during the last days and especially during the last hour or so were so overwhelming, that I really had no free choice. I could not go back to jeans and sweaters after I had tasted the joys of wearing girls clothes even if they were much less comfortable. I could not give up the feeling of receiving approving or envious glances by other people, men and women alike, for my elegant and fashionable appearance, nor could I give up the delights that Sylvia had caused me during the last days, even if it meant to be totally subjected by her. The venom of subjugation was already in my veins and I did not have the power to break away.After a while, when Sylvia asked me “Well, what is your decision, do we go on or turn around. Do you accept me as your absolute mistress?” I could only nod my head in silent agreement. “I expected you to accept. I will make you very happy, darling.” Sylvia turned her full attention to her driving again and sped through the narrow curves on our way back to the castle.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
