For then Ms Blakemore extracts what at first looks like a very thick roll of white ribbon.
‘This is the latest creation of the SMC labs, my pretties: Senso ribbon tape.’
The sissies stare at the roll with excited concern.
‘It has all the properties of any Senso product. It also has the softness and subtlety of silk ribbon and the adhesive qualities of duct tape. This makes it more than prefect for sissy bondage and control.’
Ms Blakemore is soon – once again – on her hosed knees. She pulls a length of the ribbon tape from the roll and then spreads it very carefully around Pansy’s nylon-sheathed ankles.
Pansy stares down with amazement and trepidation as Ms Blakemore begins a process of sensual mummification, wrapping her legs in the tape from her ankles and up over her knees and then around her thighs. Soon her legs are sealed from her ankles right up to the edge of her rubber-sealed and exposed testicles. Ms Blakemore then tears the roll free and restarts the mummification just above the base of Pansy’s taught tormented cock. And, in a few minutes, the whole of the sissy’s shapely torso is also enveloped.
Pansy moans fearfully into the gag as her body is so intimately and erotically consumed by the Senso tape. Petal stares at the progressing mummification with astonished and aroused eyes. The two sissies exchange glances of desperate masochistic delight.
Once satisfied that Pansy is properly enveloped, the gorgeous Ms Blakemore hands the still substantial roll of tape over to Mistress Helen. The gorgeous, angrily excited Mistress, always an enthusiast for intricate and perverse sissy bondage, smiles in a distracted sex-fuelled manner and turns her attentions to Petal. The lovely novice offers no resistance as she too is cocooned in the thick, soft and tight tape. Indeed, as her mummification progresses, Petal’s well-gagged squeals of pleasure echo around the office, a confession of absolute and deeply desired submission to the wonderfully perverse imagination of this most impressive of mistresses.
Then she too is consumed and contained, a white angel of she-male desire, a living breathing sex toy parcelled up for the dark pleasures of her gorgeous buxom mistress. Ms Blakemore and Mistress Helen step back to admire their creations, their eyes filled with the careful consideration of the artist.
‘Very good,’ Mistress Helen whispers.
Then she puts the tape back in the box and extracts two white nylon stockings.
‘I added a little sex flavour to these, to keep you amused during the long night ahead.’
The sissies watch with wide, excited and slightly concerned eyes as she hands one to Ms Blakemore and they both proceed to stretch the sheer nylon over the sissies’ heads, plunging them into a world seen through an erotic filter of sheer white nylon. The damper part of the stockings are carefully positioned over each sissy’s nose and gagged mouth, these having been rubbed vigorously against the divine mistresses’ very wet sexes earlier in the day. And, as the odour of Ms Blakemore and Mistress Helen’s beautiful cunts begins to overwhelm Pansy, the stockings are pulled tightly into position.
She then helps an immobilised Pansy lie down on her back on the bed. She then repeats this process with Petal, positioning the sexy enveloped sissy so that she is laid out just a foot or so from the lovely highly agitated Pansy, leaving the two she-male beauties side by side staring up at the ceiling through erotically distorting filters of sheer white nylon.
While Ms Blakemore works to position her two pretty, perfect bondage sculptures, Mistress Helen extracts two more tools of dark sissy torment from the box. At first they appear to be two more ball gags, but closer examination reveals them to be bizarre, fiendishly clever strap-on dildoes, two long ribbed rubber cocks set on a thick curving rubber base attached to two lengths of thick pink leather strapping, one of which is fitted with a gold-coloured metal buckle.
Satisfied that the sissies are soundly and inescapably secured, Mistress Helen hands one of the strap-on dildoes to Ms Blakemore. The two buxom beauties then take up position on either side of the bed, so that they are standing a few feet from the sissies’ tightly stockinged heads. Mistress Helen leads the way by leaning forward and gently lifting Pansy’s nylon-sheathed head with a free hand. She then very carefully places the rubber base of the dildo over the curved rim of the fat ball gag filling the sissy’s mouth and pulls the strapping down the side of her head and behind it. Then, she manages to buckle the two straps tightly together so that the dildo is left rising from the front of the sissy’s head. Poor Pansy squeals her fear and discomfort, yet her rock-hard rubber-sealed cock confesses her ongoing and profound sexual arousal.
Ms Blakemore quickly repeats the fitting of the dildo with Petal, and then the two sissies are left cocooned and helpless on the bed, their restrained cocks swaying in a strange synchronisation with the long wicked-looking dildoes rising so obscenely and erotically from their expertly stopped mouths.
Their minds and bodies cry out for an immediate release in the way the drug addict begs for his next fix. Here, under the rigid and simple control of the SMC transformative process, they have been reduced to the purest, most helpless and absolute sex addicts. Yet here the high is orgasm, and it is always desperately desired yet hardly ever given. And tonight, despite Ms Blakemore’s earlier talk of a reward, it is – again – to be denied.
‘Not yet, my beauties,’ she whispers, as if reading their minds. ‘But soon. Very soon. Tonight you must suffer just a little bit more; your understanding of the power of the Moderate path must be forcefully reaffirmed. Then you will see how important it is to follow it to its inevitably ecstatic end, and thus to help us defeat the pointless cruelty of the Radical way.’
Pansy feels betrayal and astonishing admiration in equal measure. Poor Petal is merely confused and overwhelmed.
Then, from a pocket in her tight fetishistic uniform, the gorgeous Ms Blakemore extracts the infamous metal vibrator controller.
‘Full pleasure mode tonight, I think,’ she says, turning the dial to its maximum strength position.
Within seconds the sissies are facing the added challenge of the vibrators lodged deep inside their carefully trained backsides buzzing at full power. The impact is immediate and stunning. Despite the many months of training that Pansy has undergone, she is rarely subjected to the full caress of the powerful anal vibrators, and for Petal the impact of this new level of stimulation is quite astonishing.
Soon both the pretty, mummified, hooded sissies are squealing furiously into the fat rubber ball gags and wiggling with a helpless desperation. The high wailing electronic buzz of the vibrators fills the room with a strange alien ambience that is framed by the erratic harmonies of squeals, gasps and grunts.
Ms Blakemore then smiles gently at Mistress Helen.
‘There, all ready for us.’
Mistress Helen returns the smile, her eyes filled with a fierce sex need and genuine profound love.
‘I suggest we have a nice long shower together. That should get us just in the right mood. Then we can ride our little sissy horses until dawn.’
As the digital clock on her desk flicks to 1.00 a.m., Ms Blakemore takes Mistress Helen by the hand and leads her towards the en suite bathroom. Through the distorting nylon hoods of the sex-juice soaked stocking, the sissies’ eyes are wide with shock and a deep masochistic pleasure. They are lost inside their own desire in a way that only the biological male can be. And as they fall deeper into this pit of fundamental sex need, they know they are entering a level of absolute surrender to their true sissy destiny, a destiny that will involve them as key players in the forthcoming wider battle between the Moderate and Radical factions of the Bigger Picture.
Eventually, Ms Blakemore and Mistress Helen will return and lower their large beautiful bottoms onto the sissies’ softly wrapped faces; soon thick pungent sex juice will flood through the stocking hoods; soon their delicate heads will be locked in the vice-like grip of firm broad perfectly shaped thighs. In less than an hour Petal and Pansy will be nothing more than human s
ex toys. And both will be lost in an absolute sexual ecstasy no words can ever adequately express.
Part Five
11
It is the day after our great and bizarre adventure in the Nursery. Rupert has been returned to the control of Ms Ambrose after spending the entire evening locked in the playpen with me. During this time, he exploded angrily, furiously, ecstatically into the stocking sheath tied so cruelly over his sex at least five times, damning himself to full blown SMC sissification.
The plump emerald-eyed beauty Ms Ambrose had returned to the Nursery at what I assumed was the late evening. She had looked down at the pool of semen between us and the fresh spunk seeping from his nyloned cock and laughed.
‘The idea of being sissified obviously excites you, Rupert. Let’s see how excited you are when the girls see you in your new outfit.’
Rupert had looked up at his gorgeous ample mother with pleading eyes, his desire suddenly transformed into a terrible realisation.
‘Oh yes,’ she had teased, beginning to release him from this intimate ultra-kinky bondage, ‘I have no intention of leaving you here with Shelly. A new costume awaits back at the School, and I’m sure the girls will be highly amused by it.’
The poor sissy beauty had shaken his head and squealed for mercy. His beautiful mother had laughed at his discomfort and then hauled him, still tightly bound and gagged, from the pen. And as he had been led away, my eyes had been drawn helplessly once again to Ms Ambrose’s large shapely backside and her long nylon-enveloped legs.
Left alone in the pen, my eyes had returned to the continuing and highly erotic spectacle of poor gorgeous Myriam.
Throughout the five hours or so of this wondrous mind-bending ordeal, she had continued to suffer for our dark and inescapable entertainment. As we had wiggled and squealed in sissy bondage heaven, she had bounced helplessly on the end of the fiendish wicked pole vibrator. On occasion, I had managed to extract myself from the erotic bondage ballet with Rupert and look up at her erotically wobbling form. Her bouncing cruelly weighted breasts and wide, wide eyes, her extremely well-muffled squeals of equally balanced and virtually indistinguishable pain and pleasure: all of this told of the ambivalent torment that was driving her to the edge of sanity in a way that was proving far more effective than her earlier attempts to torture me!
Then Ms Gillette had returned. She had ignored me, but spent a lot of time studying the maddened form of lovely Myriam with sadistic sex-hungry eyes. She had whispered something in the French beauty’s ear and almost immediately a terror-streaked squeal was forced from her extremely well-gagged mouth. She had begun to shake her head furiously and then Ms Gillette had wheeled her from the room, her cruel laughter hanging in the air behind her like a threat of real and horrible violence. And then I had been alone. And that is how I stayed until Ms Gillette’s further return a few minutes ago.
I have slept well and long, despite being bound and gagged, and now the lovely cruel Ms Gillette is untying my arms.
‘It’s time for you to pay your sissy friend, Rupert, a little visit, and also to meet the ladies of the Ambrose Academy. Yes: a special treat for a very special occasion. There has been a very important development, my pretty sissy petal.’
I look into her eyes and moan helplessly. The thought of being paraded through a girls’ school in this babified state fills me with horror and an almost embarrassing desire. I also find myself wondering about ‘the very important development’.
‘You will need a bath and a change of outfit. As Myriam is currently tied up, I will supervise the preparations.’
I am helped to my bootied feet and know that I should take Ms Gillette’s comments regarding Myriam quite literally!
I sway precariously as I am helped from the pen. I shuffle weakly across the thickly carpeted floor of the Nursery towards the shelving that holds the vast array of tools employed so wickedly and enthusiastically in my babification. I am tired and stunned. The vibrator has buzzed deep inside me through the night, and my rubberised cock bounces exposed, hard and obscene beneath my scented petticoats. My eyes fall upon Ms Gillette’s form and I moan once again into my fat dummy gag. For the spectacle of this buxom blonde beauty is, in this moment of supreme and quite unbearable frustration, almost unbearable.
Ms Gillette is dressed in formal and deeply arousing attire. A very tight polo-necked white nylon sweater graces her splendid torso, a sweater that reveals her large firm bosom as a work of natural sex art, a perfect, exactly streamlined masterpiece of generous femininity. Pinned just above her left breast is a beautiful broach which sparkles in the soft, now quiet disorienting pink light of the Nursery. She is wearing a short black and white check skirt that reaches down to the middle of her beautifully formed thighs and reveals her long legs (which are sheathed in fine grey hose) to maximum effect. In this act of sensual revealing they are well aided by a pair of black leather court shoes with at least three-inch stiletto heels.
Her gorgeous honey-blonde hair is bound in a tight stern bun by a diamond-studded clasp and her full elegantly curved lips are painted a bloody cherry-red. Yes: she is stunningly beautiful, and I can only worship her with wide desperate very hungry eyes!
She leads me past the shelves towards a slightly hidden corner of the large room. Here I discover a frosted glass-panelled door. Ms Gillette opens it and leads me into a large pink-tiled room that seems to consist of a wide shower cubicle and a sink, above which is a glass-fronted medicine cabinet.
She guides me into the middle of the room and then helps me undress, removing the elaborate fetishistic layers of baby attire with a care that seems to fly very much in the face of her previously rough aggressive manner. Indeed, now that she is alone with me, her whole approach seems to have changed. At first, I feared that the jealously I had seen in her eyes before Aunt Jane left would be translated into some form of perverse cruelty. But as she removes my clothes, there is a rather shocking gentleness in her manner that is quickly confirmed by her voice.
‘I can see what she sees,’ she says, her voice filled with sexual tension. ‘I understand why she is drawn to you, Shelly. Why she loves you so much. But you must understand. I love her. I have always loved her.’
These words, delivered with a desperation that is shocking in its honesty, open up a whole new side of Ms Gillette’s personality. Suddenly she seems much younger, much softer. As she kneels to pull the startling baby girl dress down my body, her short skirt rides up her legs. My eyes focus on her exposed nylon-sheathed thighs, and she makes no effort to hide her incredibly beautiful body from me.
She helps me step out of the dress and then very quickly removes everything else, taking a special aroused care with the bra and gasping with a deep pleasure as my own large, almost perfect breasts are revealed.
‘Incredible,’ she whispers. ‘Utterly incredible.’
Then she does something that I find truly amazing: she leans forward and places a very soft kiss on my left breast. I feel an electric quiver of pure sexual joy spread across my sissified body and squeal with angry pleasure into the dummy gag. She then kisses my right breast. Then, much to my further disconcerted excitement, she very gently takes my breasts in her hands, as if weighing them. An ironic smile crosses her bloody lips and then she releases me from this tormenting study.
Within a few seconds I am naked except for the restrainer. Ms Gillette uses a controller taken from a pocket in her skirt to turn off the anal vibrator, and then, to my delighted surprise, after donning a pair of latex gloves, gently eases the tormentor from my stretched aching arse.
With the dummy gag still tied tightly in place, I am told to step into the shower cubicles. I curtsey my understanding and wiggle mince forward so that my body is placed directly beneath the wide silver shower head.
As I stand expectantly, Ms Gillette goes over to a plastic basket placed beneath the sink and extracts a long white rubber apron. She ties it to her highly impressive body and then returns, her high heels cracking sado-er
otically against the shiny tiles and filling the room with the sound of a dark and cruel desire that makes my cock beg desperately for an impossible release.
Her beautiful sensual clothing protected by the long apron, which reaches down to her ankles, she then turns on the shower and I am immediately enveloped in a powerful jet of hot water and, within seconds, a thick cloud of steam.
I gasp with surprise into the gag and feel the water crash across my brilliantly feminised body. I am immediately gripped by a sense of intense very pleasurable relief, as my aching muscles – so tested by the events of the last twenty-four hours – begin to relax. Yet this sense of relief lasts only a few minutes, before I feel Ms Gillette’s rubber-gloved hands fall upon my silken sissy form.
She uses a heavily scented pink-coloured and oval-shaped bar of soap to wash my smooth soft form. Her rubber-gloved hands move with an erotic care that soon has me moaning with aching joy into the fat dummy gag. I beg for an impossible mercy and at the same time plead for this deep dark pleasure never to end.
She pays particular attention to my soft full perfectly shaped breasts and restrained rigid cock, covering them in a thick layer of pink soap and massaging her need deep into this ultra-sensitive sex flesh. I squeal and buck and she holds me in place with a free hand pressed upon my pert girlish bottom, whispering ‘there, there’ in a soft deeply maternal voice as I writhe in ecstatic agony.
Then there is my arse, my widened, so carefully and effectively trained arse. After she has finished driving me insane at the front end, she applies her wicked attentions to the back. Suddenly, a long rubberised and soap-covered finger slips between my buttocks and deep into my anus. I cry out and jump up in the shower of steaming water. My eyes widen with a furiously aroused surprise, and then I find myself relaxing, almost an involuntary deflation, that leaves me pressing down onto her finger with a fierce masochistic desperation.
Silken Embrace Page 18