And towards the end of this exciting and utterly humiliating ordeal, Helen reveals Daphne's strange, arousing future. She gathers the women around the cot and, as the she-male stares up at her mistress, the terrible, wonderful truth is unleashed.
'It is clear that we have reached the end of the first phase of Daphne's training,' Helen says, her eyes boring into her slave like holy daggers. 'By the end of the day, she will be completely subjected and accepting. Tomorrow, we will begin Phase 2. Using Sister Amelia's body alteration techniques, we will transform Daphne into an utterly convincing she-male. Leaving her male genitalia in place, we will give her the body of a sex bomb. Forty inch breasts, wide, sensual hips, pert, sexy buttocks, plus a complete facial redesign. She will become the perfect male fantasy of the vacantly beautiful bimbo.'
Laughter and mock cheering follow this announcement.
'But why keep his cock?' one of women asks. 'Just complete the job.'
A few of the women mumble agreement and Daphne's girlish eyes fill with fear.
'Because the key to our control of Daphne is her essentially male sex. We make her desire her subjugation, associate complete feminisation and female control with sexual pleasure. Her male sex is also a powerful symbol of her status. She is not a woman, we are not creating a woman out of a man. We are creating a sissified male slave.'
Helen's words bring both relief and a terrible sense of doom. Yet even this cool description of her sissy fate is just the introduction to a most terrible ordeal.
As the women continue to listen to Helen's words, the living room door swings open and Sally enters pushing what appears to be a large trolley. Daphne has already noticed that, all afternoon, she has been carefully guiding each of the women from the room, one at a time, a wicked smile on her beautiful, Nordic face. Now, the helpless, babified she-male is about to discover what the cruel mistress had been up to.
The trolley is made of gleaming silver coloured metal. Within its frame is a very large glass bowl filled to its glass lid with a yellow coloured liquid. By the bowl is a small metal box with a large red switch built into the side. Running from the lid of the bowl is a long white rubber, semi-transparent tube wound into a fat coil on a small metal platform above the bowl. Fixed to the end of the tube is what appears to be an open plastic nozzle, and attached to the nozzle is a strange black rubber harness.
The women part and Sally pushes the trolley up to the edge of the play pen. Poor Daphne beholds the bowl with terrified eyes and moans fearfully into the fat, inescapable pacifier gag so effectively filling her soft sissy mouth.
'Today there will be two tests of Daphne's commitment to her future sissification. You will witness the first this afternoon. The second will take place privately.'
Helen's words terrify the tightly bound and gagged she-male and her moan turns into a helpless sissy squeal of terror.
Helen laughs gently and leans towards Daphne.
'You say you surrender. You say you will become our slave. But do you really mean it, sweetness? Well, let's see.'
Sally opens the playpen and steps inside. She then gently removes the pacifier gag. Daphne gasps with relief and the women continue to tease and mock. Sally then takes the nozzle from the platform and pulls it over the edge of the playpen towards Daphne's face.
Tears of fear well up once again in the she-male's pretty eyes.
'Open up, Daphne,' Sally orders, her voice filled with cruel amusement. 'We've got a very special treat for you.'
Daphne looks up imploringly at Helen, who merely smiles and nods.
The helplessly gorgeous she-male obeys, feeling the dildo dig deeper into her arse and her rock hard sex press deep into the soft nappy.
Sally then forces the nozzle into Daphne's mouth and straps it in place with the rubber harness over her spectacular bonnet.
The nozzle is surprisingly thick, and stretches her mouth wide open. It's curved tip pressing against the back of her throat. She gags on it and tears of discomfort begin to flood from her eyes.
Sally then returns to the trolley.
Helen stands back and addresses Daphne directly.
'The bowl contains approximately two litres of our guests' urine, which has been collected over the last hour or so. The little black box is a pump that will take the piss up from the bowl, along the tube and into your mouth. It will do so in a controlled manner over the next 30 minutes. By the end of this period, you will most certainly need to urinate yourself. Hence the nappy.'
Even before Helen has finished revealing the terrible contents of the bowl and their destination, poor Daphne is squealing frantically into the nozzle and struggling furiously against her tight, unyielding sissy bonds. The women cheer this brave display, and the sissy squeals rise a full octave as Sally leans down with her back to Daphne and flicks the switch, making sure the tormented, terrified sissy receives a gloriously sexy view of her long, nylon sheathed legs and pretty red panties as she does so.
Daphne watches the urine traverse the tube with an agonised, horrified look of pure helpless terror. The women continue to laugh and clap. Then, a moment of supreme horror: the bitter, salty taste of urine flowing slowly from the nozzle and down her throat.
As the pretty, helpless she-male wiggles and gags, the women watch fascinated. In their eyes she can see a strange mixture of horror, satisfaction and dark arousal. And even here, in the heart of this ultimate degradation, all the beautiful, helpless she-male can feel is a terrible, angry arousal.
*
During the next 45 minutes, she drinks every last drop of the wine flavoured urine and then fights desperately to control her bladder. But very soon the pressure becomes unbearable and, with a huge sigh of humiliated relief, she floods the extra large, specially designed nappy. And there she sits, in her own urine, the most intimate tastes of these women still filling her mouth, as the women themselves chat and joke, as they continue to amuse themselves with teasing comments and baby talk. Then, after nearly three hours, twice the normal length of the Sunday visits, they reluctantly depart, and Daphne, stunned, utterly humiliated and still intensely aroused, stares up with tear stained eyes at her two gorgeous, wicked mistresses.
'You did very well, Daphne,' Helen teases. 'But the question is, do you still want to accept your fate? Are you still prepared to commit to tights and panties?'
Daphne looks at this stunning woman and knows there is only one answer. And so does Helen. The floodgates have been opened, not only of the evil glass bowl, but also of her mind. The repressed secret desires of twenty years now have complete control, and she nods weakly but clearly.
'Good. Then we can proceed onto the final test.'
Sally then unties Daphne and leads the stunned, stiff, aroused she-male out of the play pen and upstairs. Here she is stripped naked and very carefully showered and perfumed. A longer, slightly harder dildo is then quickly inserted into her more than willing back passage and the wonderfully teasing silken restrainer is tied tightly back in place. The intricate body girdle is refitted, along with a pair of very sheer, expensive black nylon tights and heavily be-frilled black silk panties. Surprisingly delicate pale rose foundation is then applied to her face, along with pale blue eye shadow and blood red, glistening lip stick. The wig of baby girl ringlets is replaced with a beautiful blonde page boy wig. Diamond stud earrings are fixed to her small, girlish earlobes, and a sexy black beauty spot is carefully positioned on the right side of her sexy mouth.
A gorgeous black silk blouse is then slipped over her shoulders, and she is helped into a very tight, black leather mini-skirt that barely reaches the top of her shapely, hosed thighs. Then, the final touch: a pair of five inch stiletto heeled mules made of glistening black patent leather.
She was then made to stand before a clearly impressed Sally and perform a sissy twirl.
'Perfect,' the striking blonde mistress purred. 'Absolutely perfect'.
Daphne is then made to reveal herself to herself, to stand, with her hands behind her ba
ck, facing the full length bathroom mirror. She gasps with a terrible sexual shock and feels herself sway with giddy sexual need.
'You really are a little beauty, Daphne. What a fool you were to try and be a man. And by the time we've finished with you…well, you'll be the prettiest little sex toy imaginable!'
Sally then leads the beautiful, stunned she-male back into the main room, her mind overwhelmed by the perfection of her transformation and the deep, sensual pleasures of her newly proclaimed ultra-femininity.
'You'll sleep in the closet tonight,' Sally says, 'and we'll get this room made up properly for tomorrow.'
Daphne curtsies her understanding and Sally pats the pretty sissy playfully on her sexy, teasingly displayed bottom, her tone now more that of a big sister than an avenging dominatrix
Sally then leads the beautiful Daphne back downstairs. The sissy's heart beats with joy and anticipation, the thought of being revealed in this glorious state to Mistress Helen driving her quite mad.
In the living room, Daphne discovers that Helen has two new visitors. The playpen has been cleared away and Helen is sitting on the large, black leather sofa with a stunningly beautiful negress dressed in a striking white dress, white hose and white stiletto heeled patent leather court shoes - the sexy uniform of a senior nurse.
And standing by the sofa at strict attention is a truly astonishing vision in cream and pink.
'Amelia,' Helen says, her beautiful brown eyes filled with teasing and cruel amusement framed by her own considerable sexual arousal, 'meet Daphne.'
Instinctively, the gorgeous she-male curtsies deeply before the stunning woman, causing her tight short skirt to rise up her hosed thighs and reveal the laced edges of her ultra-sexy panties. Yet even as she supplicates herself before the lovely negress, her eyes cannot escape the magnetic power of the creature standing by the sofa.
Amelia smiles coolly and laughs. 'As you say, Helen, she's very impressive. But she appears more impressed by Chrissie.'
Amelia has a deep, sensual Northern American accent, a voice filled with authority and sexuality.
Helen laughs in response. 'Daphne,' she says, turning to the gorgeous manifestation at her right hand side, 'meet Chrissie.'
At first sight Chrissie appears to be a tall and particularly beautiful young woman. A blonde, whose long, thick hair is bound with a white silk ribbon in a long, curling ponytail that reaches down to the middle of her back. She has striking ice blue eyes, eyes filled with an almost desperate sexual need. Her full, voluptuous lips are painted a gleaming blood red and shaped in a helpless bow of desire. She is dressed in a spectacular pink silk dress, with a very high button up and lace be-frilled neck and elegantly puffed sleeves. The dress is very tight and perfectly displays a pair of very large, perfectly shaped breasts and a lovely hour glass waist. It is also very short, with a dainty, heavily petticoated skirt, out of which emerge two beautiful, shapely legs encased in sheer white nylon stockings. She is wearing a pair of pink patent leather, stiletto heeled court shoes, each of which has a lovely diamond butterfly fitted to its severely pointed toe. Her hands are sealed in snow white glace gloves and held delicately at ninety degree angles at her sides.
Daphne then curtsies before Chrissie and the two mistresses burst out laughing.
'Chrissie is your final test,' Helen explains. 'She has been placed in Amelia's care by her aunt and it has been decided that the two of you will become very good friends. In Chrissie, you will find a model for your future development. You should aspire to be exactly like her.'
Chrissie then steps forward, smiles shyly and performs her own dainty 'bob' curtsey, revealing intricately patterned white lace garters as she does so.
'It's very nice to meet you, Daphne. I know we will be the best of friends.'
Chrissie's voice is a strange mixture of little girl and sex goddess, very high pitched and yet deeply sensual.
'I suggest you take Chrissie up to your room and show her around,' Helen says, her eyes filled with a cruel conspiracy, her lips curved into a smile of deadly desire.
Daphne bob curtsies and looks up nervously at this gorgeous young woman, confused and disturbed. Why is she here? Why do they wish her to become friends with her?
Chrissie then steps forward, smiling gently, and takes Daphne's hand in her own. Daphne turns and then leads the stunning beauty from the room, her heart pounding, her legs weak, her cock as hard as iron in its teasing silk restrainer.
In the short journey back up to the room that is filled with the tools of her feminisation, little is said. Chrissie's powerful rose scented perfume tickles Daphne's girlish nostrils and she is very much aware of the young woman's eyes burning into her long, sexily hosed legs.
As they reach the door to the spare room, Chrissie suddenly steps in front of Daphne. She stands at least 3 inches taller than Daphne and the sense of a considerable physical power is linked by her costume to her very obvious sexual beauty.
'You're very pretty, Daphne. Helen and Sally have done such a good job.'
Daphne looks up at Chrissie and finds herself moaning with a helpless, desperate need. She then gently steps past this lovely creature and opens the door. They then enter the room.
Chrissie looks around with wide, clearly excited eyes.
'Helen has followed her own path with regard to your feminisation,' Chrissie whispers, 'but the basic model is Amelia's. They were perhaps a little tougher on you than she was on me, but the principles are the same. And they will no doubt have the same result.'
It is only now, as Daphne watches this beauty mince around the room, that she realises what exactly Chrissie is. Not a gorgeous young woman, but a gorgeous she-male!
There is a moment of panic, a moment of return to the darkness of resistance and struggle. But this is soon replaced by the power of her new personality and the fierce sissy sex hunger that is at its heart.
Chrissie suddenly turns sharply on her high heels and bursts into delicate sissy laughter.
'Oh! You didn't realise! How wonderful. How terribly sexy. You thought I was a real girl!'
Poor Daphne nods and blushes furiously. Chrissie then quickly minces over to her she-male companion, her breasts bouncing teasingly in the tight dress. She then very quickly grasps Daphne's pretty head in her hands and then plants a long, wet and very passionate kiss on her painted lips.
'How lovely of you, Daphne. But I'm just like you! A bit more developed. But this is where you'll be in a few months.'
Daphne stares up at this striking feminine vision and feels utterly helpless. This is what I am, she thinks. How can I possibly resist her?
As if to answer this question, Chrissie leans forward once again and this time embraces the pretty, confused sissy before kissing her with an even more erotic enthusiasm. Daphne feels her legs weaken and her heart flutter. She returns the kiss with a desperate, helpless need.
They neck like this for perhaps five minutes, before Chrissie steps back and appraises Daphne very carefully.
'There is one more test for you, my sweet,' she whispers. 'The test of true she-male desire. If you pass this test, I can assure you a future of true sissy bliss. If you fail, you will be returned to the cupboard and another month of painful education. Do you understand?'
The element of threat in Chrissie's voice is both frightening and exciting, and the lovely sissy nods nervously.
It is then that Chrissie begins to perform a wonderful, teasing striptease before an astonished Daphne. The older, perhaps prettier she-male watches, dumbstruck, as her sissy sister carefully unbuttons the gorgeous, elegant pink dress and lets it slip gently over her stunning sex bomb figure, down around her long, shapely, white stockinged legs and then fall in a sexy heap at her ankles. Beneath the dress she is wearing an incredible white satin and silk basque, a shimmering masterpiece of sissy elegance that reveals the true extent of her wondrous figure.
The basque has an exotic plunging neck line that perfectly displays Chrissie's extraordinary bosom and
poor Daphne stares open-mouthed at this amazing vision of she-male femininity. Chrissie then proceeds to lower the oval zip head that runs from the middle of the chest section right down to the crotch of the basque. This loosens the erotic undergarment and allows her to ease it back over her shoulders and reveal her naked body.
Daphne gasps in erotic amazement as Chrissie's spectacular torso is unveiled.
She is staring at the body of an angel and sex goddess combined. Yet this is a very unusual sex goddess! For as well as a pair of perfectly shaped, pale rose breasts measuring some forty inches, there is a slender, girlish waist, a pair of full, curvaceous hips and, to Daphne's not so great surprise, a very big, fiercely erect penis tightly encased in a sheer white nylon stocking.
As the basque falls away, Chrissie removes the ribbon holding her elegant ponytail in place and shakes out a startling explosion of blonde hair. She is truly amazing and poor Daphne is already her abject slave.
Daphne remembers Mistress Helen's words and feels her own silk sheathed cock stiffen. Yes, this is my future, she finds herself thinking. This is what I can become. This is what, truly, I have always wanted to be.
Chrissie steps forward, a wicked smile on her face.
'I hope you like what you see.'
Daphne hesitates, still finding it difficult to talk. 'Yes. Very much. You're incredible.'
Chrissie's smile widens. 'Good. Now take off the stocking.'
Daphne's eyes widen. This further hesitation angers Chrissie.
'Now!'
Daphne leans forward, her hands shaking, terrified and so terribly aroused.
'Not with you hands,' the gorgeous she-male snaps. 'With your mouth.'
Silken Tales Page 37