Ms Silkov stood before a now slightly stilled Bonnie, her dark eyes drinking up the sissy's outrageous costume and very obvious terror.
'Very nice,' she whispered, her tongue traversing her lower lip. 'Very nice indeed.'
Poor Bonnie looked up at this astonishing female and appeared literally petrified: her tears seemed frozen, her struggles suddenly trapped in a stasis of desire-laced horror. Ms Silkov slipped a blood red nailed finger beneath Bonnie's alabaster chin and tilted the pretty sissy's head upwards so that he was forced to meet his new mistress's powerful, cruel and utterly determined gaze.
'Your fear just adds to your beauty,' Ms Silkov whispered.
Tears trickled down Bonnie's perfect alabaster cheeks and a whisper of pure, sadistic arousal escaped Ms Silkov's blood red lips.
'By tomorrow night you will be at my home, in Serbia, with my other toys. By the end of the week your transformation will be complete. You will have the body of a beautiful teenage girl and the mind of a 2 year old baby, except in one very special area – your desire. The operations will leave you with enhanced and ultra sensitised breasts and a very special female sex that with be permanently plugged with long, thick vibrators, as will your cute sissy arse. The endless addictive need for sexual pleasure will control every moment of your conscious life. And the possibilities opened up by this simple and perhaps terrible fact are endless.'
As Ms Silkov detailed Bonnie's fate, the unfortunate sissy's dummy gagged wails of despair increased significantly. She began to struggle more desperately. She shook her bonneted head wildly. A miasma of terror seemed to seep from her deliciously decorated form, and as this display of terrible fear increased so did Ms Silkov's obvious arousal.
'Bag her,' the startling dominatrix ordered, stepping back and allowing the cruel eyed Asian woman to step forward.
She was smaller than Ms Silkov, with sleek, long jet black hair bound in an ornate pony tail. She wore a very tight silk red dress decorated with striking yellow flowers. Her eyes were a luminous emerald, her lips blood red, and her figure surprisingly voluptuous. She radiated a cool, cruel determination.
It was only as she positioned herself in front of the lovely, terrified sissy, that Frilly became aware of the slim red rubber bag she was holding at her side, a bag she proceeded to open up before Bonnie's widening eyes. He stared and it and then at the Asian beauty and began to shake his pretty bonneted head furiously. The dainty pink plastic plated dummy gag held firm throughout this cruel and helplessly arousing ordeal, and insured his protests were nothing more than heavily muffled pleas for an impossible mercy.
Then, in one swift, surprising gesture, the Asian beauty stepped forward and slipped the open end of the bag over Bonnie's head. The sissy's eyes, before they were covered, were filled with pure terror and the desperate knowledge of his terrible, inevitable fate.
The bag was pulled right down to the Bonnie's waist and then quickly tied into place with a length of fat, white silk ribbon, leaving his upper body completely concealed. The poor sissy continued to struggle, his petticoats flaring prettily, revealing his sexy white panties and long, white nylon sheathed legs and in a highly erotic manner.
'Put her in the van. I'll join you shortly.'
The Asian beauty nodded curtly, stepped behind the mobile high chair and then wheeled Bonnie from the large, oval room. Ms Silkov watched the sissy's awful departure with a cruelly desiring gaze and Frilly knew Bonnie's future was to be very dark and relentless perverse.
Once the doomed sissy had been removed, Ms Silkov turned to Ms Kane and Ms Erickson.
'Another excellent purchase, I think.'
The women smiled slightly, clearly relived that Bonnie had been successfully dealt with.
Then, to Frilly's surprise, the gorgeous Slavic beauty turned to her. 'And this one? Is she for sale?'
The women laughed nervously. 'Not yet,' Ms Kane said, her eyes burning into mine with a pure, wicked threat of a future very similar to Bonnie's.
'A shame,' Ms Silkov said. 'A real shame.'
Then, without another word, she turned, her eyes sliding over Frilly with cruel desire, and walked from the room. Frilly stared after her, stunned, aroused, horrified, lost in a whirlpool of conflicting emotions and furious desire.
There was a silence then, a moment of deliberate hesitation. Frilly looked up at the other sissy slaves on the stage and saw that they had, momentarily, fallen silent, stilled by a dreadful fear at the thought of Bonnie's strange and awful fate. Then a simple fate struck the new sissy beauty: this very public handover was intended as a terrible lesson to the other sissies, a demonstration of the grim punishment that awaited them if they failed to complete the training regime of the Silken Illusion.
Ms Kane, Mrs Parsons and Ms Erickson then turned to face the fascinated gathering of women standing by the stage and strode towards them. Daisy gently encouraged Frilly to follow.
As they approached the stage, Frilly was provided with a clear view of the struggling, tethered sissies, paraded and displayed like works of perverse modern art, living bondage statutes, each in her own unique and deeply humiliating costume, each consumed, willingly or unwillingly, by a dreadful sexual excitement, each so intimately secured to an equally overwhelmed sissy sister. In their eyes, which were turned desperately and somewhat painfully towards Frilly's approaching form, she saw painful the fear of Bonnie's fate and a savage, utterly irresistible sexual hunger. In one set of eyes she also say anger, but this was a fading anger, an anger struggling to maintain its power but fatally weakened by the sheer power of the sex drug, the probing plug and a helpless, cleverly enforced addiction to intricate and endless sissification.
Their babyish whimpers, combined with the surprisingly loud buzzing of the fiendish plugs, provided a strange ambient soundscape over which Ms Kane introduced her latest creation.
'Ladies, I think you'll want to meet Frilly fully transformed.'
But the eyes of the women were already upon Frilly. She felt a strange sense of pride as their intense admiration became clear. Her sex rose up before them like a pure confession of helpless acceptance of this dainty, elegant and utterly bizarre fate. She found herself blushing with an almost girlish happiness, a blush that was well hidden by the thick alabaster face paint that ensured her sex doll appearance. Another wave of the endless sex heat inspired by the wicked drug crashed over her and she whimpered with an obvious joy into Ms Erickson's sexy, pungent panty gag.
'She looks utterly delightful!' one of the women exclaimed.
'And she certainly seems to be enjoying herself,' another noted, her husky voice filled with desire and irony.
'Initially, it would appear that Frilly is our most successful transformation since Tinkles,' Ms Kane said, starring at the outrageously babified sissy who had originally beheld Frilly with such needful eyes.
'And I'm sure they'll become the very best of friends!' the woman responded, her eyes moving knowingly up to the struggling, obviously ecstatic sissy on the stage. This, Frilly suddenly knew, was Tinkles’ rather lovely mother.
'And you must be so proud, Glynis.'
Frilly's stepmother nodded carefully, her smile slight. 'I'm just happy that my utterly horrid stepson has been properly dealt with and can now begin a far more productive life.'
Her words were filled with contempt, a tone far harsher than her earlier conciliatory words in the changing room. But these words, Frilly knew, were merely for public consumption: her stepmother would always be harsh and stern in public, before the gaze of these other beautiful and determined sisters of the Silken Illusion.
The women nodded seriously and smiled slightly, impressed and perhaps intimidated by the zealous words of this gorgeous newcomer.
'Frilly will begin her training immediately,' Ms Kane said. 'Given that Onanda has some free time on her hands, we have agreed that she will act as Glynis' mentor and that Daisy will aid them.'
Tinkles' mother looked at Frilly with sad eyes and smiled very slightly.
'Poor Frilly,' she said. 'At the mercy of cruel, wicked Onanda.'
The other women laughed, including Ms Kane.
'Yes. she said, 'We know Onanda is a truly harsh task mistress, but her experience will prove invaluable for Glynis.'
The women continued to devour Frilly with their teasing eyes and she continued to wallow rather shamelessly in their dark attentions.
'And now you must get on,' Ms Kane said to my stepmother after a few minutes of further chatter and questions. 'It's nearly five, and I am sure you need to get Frilly back home and settled in to her new life. I will send Daisy over tomorrow morning, and Onanda can brief you on the basics of the home training regime over the next week or so.'
'Perhaps we can begin tonight,' Ms Erickson said. 'Over dinner?'
Mrs Parsons hesitated, looking at the gorgeous, cruel dominatrix with unsure eyes. A brief silence passed, a silence electrified by desire and a recognition of the dark promise in Ms Erickson's words. 'Yes,' she said, finally. 'That would be lovely.'
A knowing smile crossed Ms Kane's ruby lips. 'Good, she said. 'That's settled.'
'We can take your car,' Ms Erickson said. 'I can pick mine up tomorrow.'
'Before you go,' Tinkles mother said, stepping, forward, 'We've got a little present for Frilly.'
The handsome, plump woman held a transparent rubber bag filled with what appeared to be pairs of ladies panties! Mrs Parsons smiled rather shyly and took the bag from Tinkles’ mother.
'Why, Daphne, how kind of you!' Ms Kane exclaimed.
'We each donated two pairs, worn this week. A little treat for Frilly when you but her to bed. A different flavour each night.'
Frilly stared at the bulging bag and felt her cock strain desperately against its gloriously inescapable restraint. A bag full of fresh panty gags!
Mrs Parsons nodded appreciatively and turned to Frilly. 'Say thank you, Frilly.'
Frilly looked into the striking blue eyes of his beautiful stepmother and then performed a brief, nervous and slightly ungainly curtsey. The women clapped and laughed and Frilly's heart was filled with an overwhelming sense of deeply feminine submission.
The bag was bound by a long length of pink silk ribbon, which trailed off from a fat bow. Mrs Parsons took up this slack and then, to the women's great amusement and Frilly's astonishment, used it to secure the bag to her exposed, angrily rigid cock, thus leaving it dangling in front of her thighs.
'Very good,' Ms Kane said, a look of genuine admiration filling her eyes as she beheld Mrs Parsons. 'Very good indeed.'
Frilly's stepmother smiled and nodded slightly. Then she placed a hand on his silken shoulder and gently instructed her beautiful sissy daughter to walk before her.
Frilly left the room teased by extreme nervous anticipation and violent sexual desire. The plug –even on the mildest pleasure setting – was making each tiny, high-heeled step an agony of arousal. Her silken cock swayed before her, the bag of soiled panties bouncing off the front of her delicately hosed thighs. Her sissified body was tormented by the incredible tactile pleasures of the strange, hyper-
erotic costume Mrs Parsons had designed for her, a costume which set out the amazing, perverse course of her feminine future, a future she was now wiggle mincing towards with a sense of true and pure joy.
10. In the Nursery
Aunt Valerie climbed the last flight of stairs of the five bedroom Victorian house that had been her home for the last twenty years. Dressed in a high necked, cream coloured silk blouse with white pearl buttons, a pearl choker wrapped around her slender, silk encased throat, a knee-length, black velvet skirt, very sheer black nylon tights and four inch, stiletto heeled court shoes, she was a vision of mature beauty. She would be fifty in two weeks time, but remained a strikingly handsome woman, with large, still firm breasts, long, shapely legs and an impressively trim waistline. She wore her black, silver streaked hair in a tight bun held in place by a beautiful, butterfly shaped diamond clasp. Crimson coloured lipstick covered her full, sensually soft lips, and a hint of peach-coloured eye shadow helped draw attention to her lovely, dark brown eyes.
At the top of the steep, narrow flight of stairs was a somewhat aged white door, its dulled paint peeling, the curved bronze door handle faded. The room beyond the door had once been the servants' quarters. Now it was the nursery in which her teenage nephew, Christopher – now Chrissie - had been locked securely night and day for the last two months.
Finally stepping onto the small landing by the door, she took a long, gold coloured key from her skirt and slowly slipped it into the door's large, ancient lock. Her lovely lips curved into a satisfied smile as she unlocked the door and then pushed it open.
Chrissie's angry squeals exploded out of the deep darkness of the nursery. He had been tied up in the playpen for nearly three hours and was no doubt very uncomfortable, especially given the constant buzzing of the vibrator fitted deep within his stretched and teased arsehole!
The heavy, scarlet coloured velvet curtains had been chosen to ensure the need for complete darkness even during the sunniest of days. The glass in the window beyond was frosted and thick metal bars had been fitted to the recently installed steel frame, but the importance of prolonged periods of sensory training meant even the fractured light they allowed into the room was too great.
Aunt Valerie instinctively felt for the light switch and the room was suddenly flooded with a soft, pink tinted light that revealed the nursery in all its spectacular, humiliating glory.
Two weeks before Chrissie's arrival, the room had been painted a striking hot pink. The dull grey carpet had been replaced with thick, white rubber tiles. Two large, mahogany wardrobes had been installed, along with a whole wall of wooden shelves. A large, very ornate dressing table with a striking, silver framed oval mirror had been placed beneath the carefully curtained window.
The shelves were lined with the instruments of Chrissie's transformation. There was a collection of the special pacifier gags that Sister Amelia had procured from a friend who specialised in clothing and accessories for adult babies, each with a heart shaped plastic plate, each fitted with a surprisingly fat, long and ribbed clear rubber teat, each teat shaped exactly like a large, circumcised penis. And attached to each side of the plate was a length of white silk ribbon.
As well as the kinky pacifiers, there were a number of extra large baby's bottles, each made of clear plastic and fitted with fat, clear rubber teats. Each was capable of holding a litre of Sister Amelia's "special formula". Also resting upon the shelves were many neatly coiled lengths of pink rubber coated cording, three thick rolls of silver duct tape, two neatly folded piles of extra large nappies, a disturbing variety of pink coloured dildos and vibrators, plus fat, pink rubber ball gags and numerous items of rather sinister looking medical equipment that Sister Amelia used for Chrissie's daily enema treatments.
Between the shelves and the wardrobes, were two tall chests of drawers, each neatly packed with Chrissie's vast variety of underwear, including a spectacular array of ultra-frilly silk panties of every colour, sheer nylon tights and stockings, ankle socks, petticoats, plastic panties and fingerless, rubber lined mittens made from expensive pink silk.
In the centre of the room was the cot and by its side, the playpen. Both had been designed by Sister Amelia and constructed by a master furniture maker. The wooden cot, made from strong, cream-coloured wood, was adult-sized, with long, barred sides. It held a thick, pink rubber mattress that was tightly wrapped in a cream-coloured silk bed sheet. The circular playpen was made from the same tough, but elegantly finished wood, and kneeling in its centre was the strange, tormented figure of Baby Chrissie.
Chrissie's eighteenth birthday was in two weeks, yet the figure wiggling and squealing so desperately in the playpen had been very carefully dressed to resemble a 3 year old girl. He was perhaps 5 foot and six inches tall, slightly built and in male clothing might have appeared slightly effeminate. But in the bizarre ensemble that was now
his permanent attire, he could only be described as ultra-effeminate!
The spectacular centrepiece of this feminine attire was a beautiful, elaborate pink silk dress. With a very high, pearl button up neck edged with chin tickling white lace, gloriously puffed up sleeves and a very short skirt lined with many layers of delicate lace petticoating, the dress was a masterpiece of sissification, a fact made more apparent by the long line of pearl buttons that travelled from the base of the dress to the nape of the neck.
Over the dress had been positioned a lovely, white cream silk pinafore, also edged with lace. The pinafore was tied in place with a fat silk bow at the base of the dress and across the chest of the pinafore, in delicate strawberry coloured writing, were sown the words "Baby Chrissie".
Through the layers of petticoating, a pair of bulging, pink and semi-transparent plastic panties could just be seen, bulging because poor Chrissie was tied very tightly into a fat, adult sized, towel nappy secured with an extra large silver safety pin. Also visible through the petticoating were the intricately decorated tops of the very sheer white nylon stockings that encased his long, feminine legs and the pink satin, lace and elastic garters that held the sexy stockings in place.
His hands had been forced into rubber lined, fingerless mittens made from the same striking pink silk as the dress, and his delicately stockinged feet were sealed in delightful pink silk booties. His arms had been forced behind his back and tied very tightly and painfully together with lengths of pink rubber coated cording at his wrists and elbows. His legs had also been bound with more of the cording at the knees and ankles, and a further length of cording ran from his tethered wrists to his ankles, thus forcing him into an uncomfortable kneeling "hog-tie".
His head had been shaven on his first day of his stay with Aunt Valerie. A variety of little girl style wigs resting on plastic stands were kept in a neat row on a shelf in one of the wardrobes, but today he was without the benefit of such humiliating head wear. No, today he was as bald as a new born baby, and, as was often her kinky way, Aunt Valerie has stretched a scented, white sheer nylon stocking over his head and face and carefully tucked it in beneath the high neck of the dress. Through the stocking his features were those of a babified bank robber, and a length of thick silver duct tape was clearly visible through the film of nylon stretched tight across his strawberry painted lips. The tape sealed his lips shut and held in place a gag made from a pair of Aunt Valerie's soiled panties.
Silken Tales Page 30