‘Right,’ Ms Gillette says, clapping her hands together loudly and filling the room with a sudden sense of urgency. ‘I have quite a lot to do today, so can I suggest we get Shelly snugly secured in her playpen for the afternoon? Myriam can keep an eye on her and you’re welcome to stay, but . . .’
‘No, no,’ Ms Ambrose interrupts. ‘Rupert has his afternoon chores at the School and I need to talk to some people about his new attire. I’ll start at some point later in the week, as we agreed.’
Ms Gillette smiles and nods. ‘Myriam, please put Shelly in the pen – and remember to secure the feeding and waste tubes, and especially the new vibrator.’
Myriam curtsies her understanding and steps forward. She takes me by a mittened hand and leads me to the large circular pen. She unclips a metal locking bar and opens one of the high white metal gates. Then I am led inside, the smooth slippery surface of the booties reducing my walk to a helpless sissy shuffle and giving a severe bounce to my generous and rubber-imprisoned bosom, plus a teasing wiggle to my back side.
Once in the centre of the pen, she orders me to bend forward.
‘Right forward,’ she whispers, ‘so that you can touch the booties.’
I do so somewhat hesitantly, knowing that I will, in the process of obeying her, expose my backside fully to the view of the two mistresses and to the lovely tormented Rupert.
And as soon as I assume this terribly embarrassing position, I feel Myriam’s hands slip into the hole in the panties that is now over my helplessly exposed backside. Her fingers delve into the darkness between my buttocks and seek out the deeply entrenched vibrator, the device of constant pleasure and firm control that has become a much loved and desired – and constant – companion.
Myriam struggles to get suitable purchase on the vibrator, and I moan into the highly effective dummy gag with an angry urgent pleasure as she finally manages to work it backwards. Then, in one hard surprisingly firm tug, it pops free of my buttocks and a strange and rather unpleasant sense of looseness and loss is all that is left.
‘Stay in position,’ Myriam orders, and then I hear her leave the pen. I also hear the amused whispering of the two mistresses and the continued sobbing of poor pretty and soon-to-be-babified Rupert.
Within a few seconds, Myriam is back. Then I am aware of Ms Gillette and Ms Ambrose standing much closer.
‘She has a particularly attractive arse,’ Ms Ambrose says, her deep voice filled with a sadistic pleasure. ‘It is almost a shame not to spank it.’
‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll get plenty of opportunities to spank it every day, Lillian.’
Ms Gillette’s deliberately teasing response fills me with dread and arousal in equal sado-masochistic measure. I squirm and wiggle my buttocks with a helpless sissy exhibitionism, knowing they are watching my every move with cruel fascination.
‘Show her the vibrator first,’ Ms Gillette orders.
Myriam’s startling form is then before me. Bent forward as I am, I see only her long black nylon-wrapped legs, so close that the intricate weave of the fine sheer fabric of her hose is clearly visible, glistening in the soft pink light of this strange nursery. My cock, rampant and digging deep into my rubber-sealed tummy, stretches painfully as I ponder the fetishistic delight of this flawless black nylon so completely encasing beautiful human skin. This strange, intimate and always erotic interaction between body and hose is a guarantee of instant and powerful arousal.
Then Myriam kneels down, her sparkling pale-blue eyes still filled with a mixture of helpless love and wicked amusement, and holds before me a strange cherry-red vibrator.
‘Meet your new arse buddy,’ Ms Gillette says. ‘It really is ingenious – and a product of SMC, of course. It is shaped – more or less – like the classic vibrator. Yet it is perfectly hollow and open at the control end. This allows for the insertion of an enema probe and also excretion without its removal. A perfect tool for the incontinence training you will be subjected to during the next six months. Also, you should be warned that, like all the other SMC vibrators and anal trainers, it is fitted with a distance-activated micro-processor. This means the vibrations can be turned on remotely. You should also remember that the SMC vibrators can induce pain as well as pleasure.’
I grunt hopelessly into the dummy gag and realise how terribly exposed and helpless I am. I feel my arse twitch with nervous anticipation and await my fate with a pained anticipation.
Then Myriam unleashes a last look of paradoxical sympathy and amusement and disappears from view. Within a few teasing seconds, the cool tip of the vibrator is being pressed against my well-trained and tormented arse and I am gasping with kinky sissy pleasure into the dummy gag.
As the French beauty eases the vibrator inside me, I know that Ms Gillette, Ms Ambrose and Rupert have a clear view of every second of its steady rude insertion. As I wiggle my buttocks helplessly and squeal with a furious delight – as I demonstrate the true extent of my masochistic hunger to these gorgeous, perverse and erotically cruel women – Myriam is forced to place her free hand firmly on my buttocks to hold me in place.
A strange sigh escapes Ms Ambrose’s full peach lips and I realise my ordeal is turning her on.
Then it is inside me, pushed home with one final shove of fierce determination. I gasp with a mixture of pleasure and shock, the sense of being split in two and then suddenly put back together a unique facet of this form of intrusion. Yet my ambivalent sufferings are not quite over; for as soon as the vibrator is in place, Ms Gillette orders me to stand up straight. I do so and the vibrator slips deeper inside me. My eyes close as sex stars erupt before them.
‘Now the sheath,’ Ms Gillette instructs.
I see Myriam perform an eager bob curtsey and turn to face Rupert. Now the pretty sissy boy deliberately avoids my eager aroused gaze. But nevertheless, I see in the confused excitement beneath the sheen of angry tears a simple truth: sexual arousal.
Myriam returns from the shelves with what appears to be a semi-transparent pink latex rubber sheath.
‘Kneel,’ Ms Gillette orders, and I obey, sinking into a delightful quicksand of frou-frou petticoating. As my bootied heels press into my rubber-sealed backside, the vibrator is forced even deeper into my arse and another well-stifled moan of dark pleasure fights to find its way past the dummy gag.
Myriam is then, once again, on her kneels before me. But now she is all business. She works the sheath over my already tightly restrained sex. Strangely, the combination of two layers of rubber means I feel little as the sheath is pulled over my erect member, but a sense of helpless sissy satisfaction washes over me as I notice my sex is now colour coded with the rest of my delightful baby girl attire. However, the purpose of the sheath is not to colour code, but to further subject me to an ultra-kinky enema discipline. This becomes very apparent once the sheath has been pulled snugly into position. At its curved end, now stretched firmly over the bulging head of my cock, is a network of micro-filters, very similar to those lining the head of the restrainer, which allow me to urinate; and as I stare at this barely perceptible netting and then up at Myriam, still on her delicately stockinged knees, I notice that she has opened up two small rubber-covered panels built into the floor of the pen. From the first, she takes a narrow clear rubber tube, whose end is fitted with a strange plunger device. This she pulls towards me and then slips it over my erect member, then very carefully slips the plunger over its head. The plunger immediately grips hold of the head, squeezing it gently and not at all uncomfortably. Indeed, as it clamps around my sex, I cannot resist a gagged moan of pleasure.
After the plunger, Myriam, still crawling around fetchingly on her black-stockinged knees, pulls forward the second tube. On closer inspection, it becomes apparent that this tube is attached to a long plastic phallus of shining pink plastic. My eyes widen with fearful curiosity as she crawls around behind me and Ms Gillette then orders me to lean forward on my knees, with my bottom displayed for Myriam’s mysterious attentions.
<
br /> I obey and then feel a pressure in my backside. There is little feeling – painful or otherwise; just a sense of further insertion.
Myriam is then standing and I am told to sit back on my knees. As I do so, I feel the tubing brush against my nylon-sheathed thighs.
‘You are now fully connected to the continence control network, Shelly,’ Ms Gillette explains. ‘Rather than the messy humiliation of adult-sized nappies, your babification will be controlled by the pristine humiliation of technology, which will in turn be controlled by the no doubt firm and imaginative hand of Ms Ambrose.’ I listen to her words with a growing sense of unease.
‘The tubes attached to your cock and arse will allow the release of waste matter, which will then be pumped to the recycling device fitted beneath your cot. Here it will be processed and removed into the rather ingenious waste-driven heating system of the house. The recycler will control liquids in as well as liquids out. Thus, each morning, it will administer a soapy enema via the enema probe inserted in your backside. This will be held in place for approximately fifteen minutes and then returned to the vibrator. It will then contract to allow the passage of the enema liquid and waste matter. Thanks to laxative treatments administered with your food and drink, it will be virtually impossible for you to retain the liquid for more than a few seconds. This will significantly reduce your general ability to control your bowel movements and, soon after the probe has contracted, you will be forced to void waste matter via the hollowed vibrator. The penal plug will be the only way to expel urine and, after a few hours of trying to hold your bladder, I am afraid nature will take its course.’
As her words sink in, Myriam suddenly grabs my mittened hands and very quickly binds them behind my back with what feels like a length of silk ribbon. She then repeats this process rather painfully with my elbows. Thus I am, once again, tightly bound and gagged, and completely at the cruel mercies of my beautiful determined mistresses.
It is more or less at this time that I feel an electrical rumble in my backside and then the probe, via some form of ingenious motor, begins to edge up my anus and then, after applying a terrible irresistible pressure, slips inside my lower bowel. Then I begin to feel the liquid flood from its awful head into my guts. I squeal angrily into the gag; I wiggle helplessly and frantically in my pretty baby bondage. The women – including Myriam – begin to laugh loudly. The liquid soon fills my bowels to a painfully uncomfortable level. My belly feels like a balloon pumped to bursting point. Tears of discomfort fill my eyes. As I am facing away from the women and held in position by my bondage and the tubing, it is impossible for me to turn and see their faces. But I can see them: in my mind’s eye I can see the dark smiles and the cruel eyes – even Myriam is mocking me with those gorgeous brown orbs of nubile desire. And, of course, Rupert.
Eventually, I feel the probe slip from my bowel back inside the vibrator and then contract. Within seconds, I have a dreadful and very fundamental urge to void the matter in my bowel. I shake my head and squeal. I wiggle my prettily decorated backside and the laughter of my wicked mistresses increases in contemptuous volume.
‘We’ll leave you to your useless battle, my pretty sissy pet,’ Ms Gillette announces. ‘If you’re lucky you might last ten minutes. Enjoy.’
As I struggle, whimper and wiggle, I hear my tormenters and their slaves leave the room, the sound of their laughter echoing down some unseen corridor even after the nursery door has been closed and bolted shut.
As the pressure builds up to an inevitable bursting point, my struggles increase, but to no effect whatsoever. Tears flow down my alabaster cheeks and I find myself confronting the terrible truth of my punishment. My crime is great and I had thought Mistress Helen’s punishment cruel and deeply unusual but, as I think of the total sex change she had planned for me, and what my Aunt and Ms Gillette – now assisted by Ms Ambrose – have created, I find it difficult to decide which is the worst.
Part Two
3
Christina hurries through the Ashcroft manor house. She has been summoned to the Library by Mistress Helen. Her steps, thanks to five-inch-high stiletto-heeled court shoes and a very carefully created femininity, are tiny and rapid. As her heels strike the marble of the main entrance foyer, her large breasts bounce desperately and her bottom wiggles with an erotic challenge. She is dressed in the elegant sexy black uniform of the Senior Housemaid: a gorgeous black satin dress, a white silk pinafore, and black-seamed nylon tights. The short dress rests on a sea of thick frou-frou petticoating and, as she wiggle minces with increasing desperation, her thick be-frilled silk panties are clearly visible, as are the moon-shaped lower globes of her pert backside.
The SMC academy has been in uproar since the discovery of the Moderate betrayal. She is not sure exactly what has happened, but it has become clear that Mistress Anne has been abducted and something truly terrible has happened to her beloved Annette.
She knocks on the door with a shaking glacé-gloved hand and Mistress Helen’s angry embittered voice rings out, its force momentarily stopping the beautiful sissy’s panic-driven heart.
‘Come!’
Christina totters into the Library to discover Mistress Helen, Mistress Céline, Mistress Sophie and Ms Blakemore. Helen is sitting at her large library desk and the other women are gathered around her.
Christina performs the deepest and most submissive of curtsies and is summoned forward. She stands to attention before the women and awaits instruction. Yet there is no instruction.
‘It’s simple: that bitch Jane and her filthy sissy slut betrayed us,’ Mistress Helen spits to the others. ‘And they weren’t the only ones. There are others, probably close to us, still in this building. We shipped Anne instead of the whore Myriam. That’s the only explanation. And Annette replaced Shelly.’
Christina’s eyes widen in shock and amazement.
‘Aziz will never give Anne back,’ Céline says. ‘She is already out of the country. In many ways she is a far more valuable asset than Myriam. She will fetch a very high price in the African markets he deals with. She is lost to us.’
Helen’s eyes suddenly fill with a terrible sadness. Christina can see a hint of tears.
‘I don’t care. We have to do everything we can to get her back. I want Sophie to track down Aziz and see what can be done. Money is no object. If necessary, use our African political connections. And Aziz’s competitors. Pay them to hurt him and find out where she is.’
Sophie nods wearily, her eyes filled with a sense of defeat even before her task has begun.
Christina finds her gaze moving to Ms Blakemore. Her hand is on Helen’s shoulder, a comforting hand, yet also, in some way, a hand trying to hold the beautiful senior mistress in place, to control her.
‘Perhaps you should go to your quarters for a few hours, Helen,’ she says. ‘Try and get some sleep. You’ve been up all night.’
Helen rudely shrugs off Ms Blakemore’s grip and looks up at her with fierce angry eyes. ‘Not now. Now it is time to act. We have to bring forward the TSC implementation and the recruitment of the second test tranche. Céline, contact the women who volunteered subjects at the fundraiser, find a suitable test subject we can push through the fast track process.’
Mistress Céline nods, her cruel smile even wider than normal. Her cold hard gaze falls upon Christina and betrays a dark desire. Christina feels fear and arousal wash over her sissy form as she remembers previous sado-erotic ordeals at the hands of this cruelly imaginative mistress.
Ms Blakemore’s large beautiful brown eyes are suddenly filled with concern. ‘Let’s not be too rash –’
‘Rash!’ Helen screams, making poor Christina nearly jump out of her pretty panties and hose. ‘Anne has been kidnapped. We have lost one of our most valuable sissies, and we have been betrayed by those we held most dear. I don’t think this is rashness. This is self-preservation.’
Ms Blakemore falls silent, a look of humiliated anger in her eyes.
‘I wa
nt a test subject primed for the accelerated induction programme and TSC as soon as possible.’
Ms Blakemore nods weakly and looks directly into Christina’s astonished eyes with something approaching dread.
Christina beholds Mistress Helen with a look of helpless admiration. She has been her slave for nearly ten years now, ever since Helen had overseen her and Annette’s feminisation and created the Sissy Maids Company. In this time she has learnt that Helen is a natural leader, a woman of considerable drive, fierce intelligence and an absolute and often cruel determination. As the lovely she-male looks at her now, her sex stiffens in its teasing Senso restrainer and she knows she wants nothing else than to obey her commands without question. Her mature buxom form is, as usual, carefully decorated. She is dressed in a very tight black nylon sweater that displays her very large, very firm bosom to perfection. Beneath the glass top of the table it is possible to see that she is wearing a very beautiful black and white check skirt that runs down to just above knees sheathed in sheer black nylon. Her shoes are black patent leather mules with striking five-inch heels. Her hair, always worn short, is styled in a neat precise pageboy. Her lips are painted a shocking blood red and her large dark-brown and very beautiful eyes are suddenly looking at Christina.
‘We have been betrayed, my pretty sissy flower,’ she says, her tone suddenly much softer. ‘Betrayed by those we loved and trusted. Unfortunately, they have molested poor Annette and changed her forever. She’ll need a lot of very special care. We’ll need you to give that care and also help us in a new phase of our great plan. Things will be much different now. You will have to suffer and learn a new level of acceptance and obedience. But it will be for the ultimate success of the Radical cause. Do you understand?’
Christina curtsies deeply without a second’s hesitation.
Helen nods. ‘You will be responsible for helping Annette through the trauma of the next few days. You will also help with the induction of the new trainee.’
Silken Embrace Page 4