Silken Embrace

by Christina Shelly

  ‘But you like it here?’

  Petal looks at Pansy and smiles. ‘Yes. As soon as I saw what was going to happen, I knew I could never resist. It was, in many ways, my fantasies made reality.’

  Pansy smiles in agreement. Yes: fantasy made reality. For her, and for Shelly, this is the arena of the realisation of dreams. She stares at the lovely trainee sissy and sees a true sister. She imagines Petal transformed, with wide curving hips, a soft girl’s voice and large perfectly shaped breasts. She feels her sex stir and then imagines making love to Petal, making gentle extended sissy love to this gorgeous helplessly feminine creature.

  Then they return eagerly to their labour, caring for this fetishistic cornucopia. They work and, periodically, they talk, exchanging fantasies and stories from their pasts. Pansy tells Petal all about her guardian, the strict beautiful Ms Hartley. Never a feminiser, she had, however, been a striking image of dominant womanhood. A tall slender and intellectually tough woman who had not been averse to using intimately physical punishments on her charge, including hard and prolonged spankings that had awakened a deep-rooted and long-hidden masochism. Indeed, she was still applying an ivory-handled hairbrush with grim determination when she – then he – was fifteen, and distinctly remembers the first time her helpless and rather angry erection had pressed hungrily through her – his – trousers into the soft warm fabric of sheer black nylon that so elegantly and erotically imprisoned Ms Hartley’s muscled and very strong thighs. Yes, Ms Hartley had known her charge was both attracted to her and betraying the earlier signs of a sissy. And it had been so simple, once she – as Dominic – had met Shelly, who was then Michael. Yes, their feminisation, overseen by Shelly’s gorgeous Aunt Jane, had been embraced and eagerly developed by Ms Hartley, a fact that had never been particularly surprising.

  By 11.45 p.m., the two sissies are tired, but deeply aroused and very expectant. They have completed their allotted work early and taken their time with the final folding and stacking of undies. Petal runs her hands gently over a pair of very fine, 10-denier tights of black nylon and marvels at the slender delicate precision of the design and the terribly immediate impact of this most erotic of fabrics.

  ‘It’s time to go,’ Pansy says, taking the lovely stunned she-male beauty by the hand.

  Pansy leads Petal from the Laundry, up into the main house and then up to the door of Ms Blakemore’s elegant quarters. Their always-testing high heels have accompanied this deeply exciting and anticipatory journey with a percussive symphony of echoing clicks and cuts, and now, as they stand before the door, Pansy feels her heart speed up with a fierce sexual excitement.

  Pansy knocks on the door nervously and almost immediately Ms Blakemore’s voice – clear, confident, but never harsh – bids them enter. The two lovely apprehensive sissies stare at each other and smile. Pansy opens the door and enters. Petal quickly follows her.

  Ms Blakemore is sitting on a large black leather sofa in the middle of the main living room. Sitting next to her is Mistress Helen.

  ‘Punctual as ever,’ the gorgeous mistress whispers.

  Ms Blakemore is now dressed in the tight white uniform that has become the symbol of her role and of her tremendous sexual power. Within the SMC, there is no more popular mistress than Ms Blakemore. And perhaps there is none more powerful: for she has come, in her actions and approach to the training of sissies, to symbolise the Moderate cause. Yet she remains a favourite – if not the Favourite – of Mistress Helen. It is a thin and very dangerous line that she walks, and it is perhaps even more surprising that she walks it with such ease, a fact made clear by the presence of the strangely subdued but apparently very happy Helen at her side.

  Ms Blakemore’s uniform dress is made from a strange durable silk that clings to her body like a fresh layer of fetishistic skin, revealing every inch of her superbly ample form in a deeply provocative and fiercely sexual manner. The skirt runs to just above her knees and reveals the rest of her long perfectly formed legs sheathed in semi-opaque white nylon. She is wearing five-inch stiletto-heeled court shoes of white patent leather that glisten erotically in the bright office light. Her hair is tied in a tight and exact bun by a thick white silk ribbon, and her lips sparkle a glossy blood red. Yes: she is the perfect mistress.

  Mistress Helen is dressed in a tight black sweater, a simple knee-length black cotton skirt, very sheer black nylon tights and a pair of three- or four-inch stiletto-heeled mules. Her gleaming, always beautiful brown hair is bound in a tight bun. The sweater presents her very large, perfectly shaped breasts to a dreadfully erotic perfection and both pretty sex-maddened sissies fight to drag their eyes away from them.

  ‘Have you been behaving yourselves?’ Ms Blakemore asks, her eyes twinkling with a teasing rebuke, clearly aware of the state both she-male beauties are in.

  For a moment the sissies look confused, but then guilty smiles cross their faces as they remember the long desperate kisses of a few hours before.

  ‘Obviously not,’ Ms Blakemore says, her own smile widening with irony and excitement perfectly mixed. ‘So before we begin, I think punishments are in order.’

  Petal’s eyes widen with sudden doubt, but in Pansy’s pretty blue eyes there are only the flames of a dreadful and ever more powerful sexual excitement.

  ‘Take these and tie Petal up. Now.’

  Ms Blakemore throws four lengths of standard white rubber-coated cording across the table. Pansy bob curtsies and then minces forward to the edge of the table, takes up the cording and turns to a worried-looking Petal.

  The smile on Pansy’s face is ambiguous enough for Petal’s concern to increase significantly as the she-male steps up to the gorgeous nervous trainee and tells her, in a gentle but slightly sinister voice, to place her hands behind her back with her wrists crossed. Petal hesitates and looks over at the stunning visage of Ms Blakemore.

  ‘Do as you’re told,’ she says, her voice calm, careful and threatening.

  Petal nods weakly and obeys; and as Pansy tightly secures her wrists with the first cord, she feels a jolt of pure masochistic pleasure shake her sissy form. Her cock strains and a helpless gasp of pleasure slips from her painted lips. Then she feels a hand slip between her legs and the gasp becomes a terrible needful moan.

  ‘Just tie her, Pansy. You can play later.’

  Ms Blakemore’s voice cuts through this strangely ambivalent moment of dark sissy passion. Petal’s moans of pleasure are then transformed into slight but real cries of pain as Pansy proceeds to bind her elbows very tightly together and then set to work on her delicately hosed and beautifully shaped legs, securing her rapidly and quite inescapably.

  Once her ankles and knees are tied tightly together, Petal is made, under Ms Blakemore’s further instruction and Pansy’s careful supervision, to hop forward so that she is directly before Ms Blakemore.

  ‘Gag her with this,’ Ms Blakemore says, holding up a fat pink rubber ball gag fixed to thick leather strapping.

  Pansy totters forward, performs a furiously sexy bob curtsey and quickly obliges, taking the ball gag from Ms Blakemore and forcing the surprisingly soft oral intruder into Petal’s mouth with a roughness that is both shocking and arousing.

  Once the gag is buckled in place, poor Petal’s eyes are wide with fear and the strain the width of the rubber ball is placing on her mouth and jaw. And as tears of discomfort begin to well up in Petal’s eyes, Pansy is summoned over to Mistress Helen.

  ‘Over my knee,’ she says, her voice firm but also paradoxically mellow, the light in her beautiful eyes betraying a deep dark sexual arousal.

  The lovely doe-eyed sissy obeys without a microsecond of hesitation, carefully lowering herself face down over Mistress Helen’s broad lap, her eyes wide with arousal and trepidation.

  Soon she finds herself held firmly over Mistress Helen’s skirted and hosed knees, a sense of ecstatic helplessness washing over her as the wide skirt of the dress is pulled up and her heavily be-frilled white silk panties ex
posed. Then there is a swift hard whack. A flat-handled hairbrush, taken from the space between Ms Blakemore and Mistress Helen, bounces off Pansy’s soft pert bottom after a single echoing spank and the pretty sissified she-male lets out a yelp of shock and pain. Yet before she can adjust to the explosive surprise of the first blow, a second follows, then a third. Mistress Helen delivers the spanking with a mechanical precision and within less than a minute poor Pansy has received twelve cruel strokes of the hairbrush on her buttocks and upper thighs, leaving her gasping and sobbing and begging for mercy.

  Petal watches and listens. The sound of the angry slaps – ivory colliding with silk and nylon-sheathed sissy flesh – echoes across the beautiful room. Her sex expands in its tight Senso rubber restrainer and begs uselessly for release. She moans desperately into the fat rubber ball gag and strains against her tight expertly secured bondage.

  Then, suddenly, it is over. Mistress Helen pushes Pansy off her gorgeous lap and the sissy staggers back to her feet, her bottom on fire, tears trickling from her pretty blue eyes, her cock rock-hard. Then Petal realises a simple fact: they are being deliberately stimulated, prepared for a much more ingenious and perverse test.

  This insight is suddenly made fact when Ms Blakemore orders Pansy and Petal into the bedroom. Petal looks at the stunning black beauty with frightened worried eyes.

  ‘I suggest you hop, my pretty bunny.’

  Mistress Helen and Ms Blakemore rise from the sofa and follow the two sissies into the huge bedroom, poor Petal bouncing precariously forward on tiny hops, her balance always micro-seconds away from complete failure.

  In the bedroom, the sissies are ordered to stand before the large silken-sheeted oval bed that only hours before had been the scene of Mistress Helen’s seduction.

  ‘When I ordered you here,’ Ms Blakemore says, ‘I told you it was to celebrate. The question is: what are we celebrating?’

  Through tear-stained eyes, Pansy reveals confusion and arousal.

  ‘We are celebrating a return to normality,’ Ms Blakemore explains. ‘Thus the victory of the Moderate cause. Or at least the beginning of a victory.’

  Pansy’s curious gaze inspires a further amused smile.

  ‘Helen and I have spent a few hours talking over exactly where we need to go. I have managed to persuade her that Radicalism is a dead end. She accepts that she has been led astray by a few foolish arrogant individuals. The answer to the problem of the male cannot be found in the destruction of desire, but in its manipulation and control. Our achievements are evidence of this.’

  Helen smiles with a slight embarrassment and she nods sagely, her eyes filled with her helpless love for the stunning regal Ms Blakemore.

  ‘Tomorrow, Helen will formally hand over leadership of the Bigger Picture to me. She will retain responsibility for the SMC business operations, but I will have overall responsibility for the political direction from now on. There will be a few battles ahead. The Radicals still have significant support in certain parts of France and the US and this will need to be dealt with. But we have neutralised their leaders, so I am optimistic we can make quick progress. The formal announcement will be made at a special meeting of the executive group at the Ambrose School, a facility that has recently affiliated to the Bigger Picture. We will leave at dawn and you two, plus Christina and Annette, will travel with us.’

  The two sissies stare at their beautiful mistresses and then at each other in total amazement.

  ‘But now, I think we need some light relief. Especially for poor Helen. She’s had a hard day and I’ve promised her some fun.’

  Ms Blakemore then turns her startling heart-stopping eyes upon Pansy.

  ‘Now strip. Take off everything. Down to the restrainer.’

  Petal watches, amazed and furiously aroused in her tight intimately erotic bondage as Pansy obeys Ms Blakemore’s surprising and exciting order. And as Pansy undresses, her sobs lessen and the tears dry. She strips away the vital garments of total sissification with a delicate grace, with the naturalness of the Geisha, the exact geometric care of the ballet dancer. It is, finally, an affirmation of the art of being at the heart of all sissy life.

  This ballet of undressing is a truly complex affair, an erotic process designed to make the difficult process of removing the intricate layers of beautiful sissy attire look perfectly natural, even easy. And the fact that Pansy achieves an impression of artless effort is a testimony to the genius of her training, the genius of the Bigger Picture.

  Then she is standing before Ms Blakemore quite naked, her clothes in a neat pile on the floor, her arms at her sides, her long hard cock rising up before her in its devilishly unyielding and rather lovely pink Senso rubber prison, her exquisitely formed buttocks glowing a warm clearly painful cherry red.

  Ms Blakemore studies her sissy slave with a careful, even clinical eye, observing the perfection of her design, studying a work of art she created, art as real and legitimate as the sado-erotic drawings on the wall. Yes, Petal understands this too: that in many ways Ms Blakemore is their creator, that her scientific and artistic genius has given birth to the erotic truth of the sissy form they all now share with such pride and helpless arousal.

  ‘Now untie Petal and strip her as well.’

  Pansy looks at Ms Blakemore with confused and aroused eyes.

  ‘Just do as I say, Pansy.’

  Pansy performs a tiny bob curtsey and turns to face the lovely terribly excited Petal.

  Pansy helps Petal to her feet and turns her to face the wall. Petal finds herself looking directly at a picture on the opposite wall, a picture of Shelly dressed in a white leather basque, matching nylon stockings and pink leather ankle boots with ferocious six-inch-high heels. She is without a bra and her large pale-rose breasts struggle under the weight of two oval-shaped metal weights that have been attached to her long hard nipples by painful-looking crocodile clips. Thick white tape seals her lips and her arms are lashed tightly behind her back. She wears no panties, and her restrained cock rises up from between her legs like a pink sword of ultimate frustration. There is both pain and dreadful need in her wide eyes. She is utterly gorgeous and Petal, who has seen other pictures of her drawn by Ms Blakemore, wishes so very much that one day they will meet.

  Pansy quickly removes the cording binding Petal, but, at Ms Blakemore’s instruction, leaves the fat mouth-stretching ball gag in place. She then sets about removing the wondrously intricate pink silk dress and the pinafore tied so tightly over it. Petal quivers with kittenish pleasure as the dress is pulled down over her shoulders and body to reveal the tight corseting that is at the heart of the junior’s always-testing training. Her heavily be-frilled white silk panties quickly follow the dress and pinafore, leaving her pink rubber control panties, against which her long hard cock is revealed in stark outline.

  Petal is made to sit on the bed and watch as Pansy kneels before her and leans forward to remove her white nylon tights. As she peels them down over her waist and upper thighs, her generous tits brush against Petal’s knees and the younger novice sissy moans with an irresistible pleasure.

  Once the tights have been pulled free, Pansy, still on her knees, shuffles forward and then gently eases the rubber panties over Petal’s sex and slips them down her legs to her ankles. Petal’s rubber-imprisoned sex pops up before her, a pink sex-in-the-box propelled by the high-octane fuel of an angry sexual frustration. Pansy stares at the sex for a few tormented moments and then helps Petal step out of the panties. And then she is as naked as Pansy, who gracefully rises to her feet. They stand face to face and their sexes brush together as Pansy adjusts her position slightly. Then Ms Blakemore steps forward and, to Pansy’s surprise, quickly pops a ball gag that exactly matches Petal’s into her mouth and straps it tightly in place.

  Pansy’s eyes widen and she squeals with a familiar mixture of fear and arousal.

  ‘Put your hands behind your back,’ Ms Blakemore orders Pansy.

  Puzzled, she obeys, and then her
arms are tightly resecured at the wrists and elbows with the white nylon cording. Petal is then made to do the same and she too is quickly retied by the gorgeous dominatrix.

  Then Ms Blakemore takes a large pink plastic box from beneath the bed and places it upon the rubber-wrapped mattress. She removes the lid and extracts a pink Senso nylon body glove. It is essentially a single-legged armless body stocking designed for the tight and highly erotic imprisonment of sissies. She orders Pansy to sit on the mattress and carefully kneels down at the sissy’s small girlish pink toe-nailed feet before sliding the delicate but surprisingly resilient material over them and up her long shapely and silky smooth legs.

  Poor Pansy moans with a terrible pleasure as the Senso torments her ultra-sensitive skin. She wiggles with sex joy, her large breasts bounce furiously and poor Petal’s pretty eyes nearly pop out of her head!

  The stocking is drawn up to the top of Pansy’s thighs and she is then ordered to stand so that it can continue its journey over her luscious she-male form. Then, finally, it is pulled into position around her neck and her marvellous pneumatic body is sealed in the soft highly teasing nylon material.

  Ms Blakemore steps back and examines her latest creation. A cruel and ironic smile crosses her beautiful blood-red lips. She then steps forward and very quickly slips a hand into a be-frilled hole between Pansy’s legs and within seconds has somewhat roughly extracted Pansy’s large, desperate and very tightly restrained sex. Pansy squeals furiously and Petal watches in astonished excitement.

  Once the pretty rubberised cock has been positioned to Ms Blakemore’s satisfaction, the SMC Matron extracts a second stocking from the box, this one a dark hot pink. Petal stares at it and immediately knows her fate. And within a few wondrous minutes, she too is tightly wrapped in the teasing caress of a Senso nylon body glove, her cock extracted and exposed, her eyes wide with shocked arousal, moans of profound sexual pleasure trickling past her large inescapable gag. Yet this is – of course – only the beginning!