I moaned with pleasure as the soft silk of the baby doll brushed against their soft flawless pale-rose surface. It was like a thousand delicate kisses were falling on every inch of their curvaceous milky form. I took the breasts in my hands. I weighed them and gasped with satisfied astonishment: they were everything I fantasised they would be and much, much more! The helplessly stiff nipples were a direct response to my furious arousal. I tweaked them with my fingers (whose nails were painted exactly the same shade of pink as the baby doll) and squealed with pleasure.
After maybe ten minutes of fascinated observation and self caressing, I carefully pulled myself to my stockinged feet. The impact of the breasts was immediate: I found myself tipping forward and fought to regain an upright posture. I straightened my back and pulled my shoulders out. The breasts bounced in the baby doll and tears of sissy joy filled my grateful eyes. Then I saw the mirror – at the end of the bed, a full length mirror in an elegant white wooden frame. And then I saw my own incredible reflection.
I walked towards the mirror in a state of awed shock. The beautiful creature before me was me, yet more than me. She was my height, with my face and body; yet she was also a stunning sissy sex bomb. I stared at my face in disbelief: surgery had made its already feminine curves softer and slighter longer. My eyes were bigger, or at least had been carefully moulded by plastic surgery to seem bigger. Helplessly doe eyes, eyes that emanated rays of intense and inescapable submission. Then there were my lips. Painted the same colour as my nails, they were much more pronounced, more curved, fuller – utterly voluptuous. My hair remained unchanged, although it had been restyled in a striking Monroe cut, a sea of scented fifties waves that only added to the overall image of a submissive sissy beauty.
My neck seemed slightly thinner and longer, a deliberate illusion that made me appear much younger. Indeed, I now appeared about sixteen years old! I remembered Visions of the Future, and realised this was the most striking vision of my own future of absolute slavery to the principles and members of the Bigger Picture.
As well as my amazing breasts, I noticed a thinner waist, yet broader hips. Strangely, my stockinged legs appeared longer and my feet smaller. All, of course, illusions produced by the expert application of the surgeon’s kinky knife.
Then the door to the room open and I turned to discover Ms Blakemore standing before me. Gorgeous, ironic, all powerful. I tried to curtsey and nearly lost my balance, tipping forward and nearly collapsing in a sissy heap before her.
She laughed and entered. I regained my balance and stared at her in a state of stunned adoration.
She was dressed in a very tight white nylon sweater and a long black leather skirt with a widened base of lace petticoating out of which emerged feet tied into a pair of five-inch-heeled black leather ankle boots. Her thick coal-black hair was free of restraint and exploded over her shoulders like a waterfall of golden oil.
‘You look wonderful,’ she whispered. ‘We are all so proud of you, Shelly. Of you and Pansy. You are the next stage in the evolution of the Sissy; proof that our feminisation programme will work on a mass production basis. In eighty hours we have created two truly astonishing she-male beauties.’
I looked at her with adoration and longing. I felt my sex fight its restraint and smiled helplessly. Yes, it was still very tightly sealed in rubber and locked in steel. And then I felt the vibrator deep inside my arse, much bigger than previously, and so much more arousing now that I was truly transformed.
‘You’ve noticed the vibrator, I see,’ she whispered, moving closer to me.
I nodded, my eyes filled with a savage inescapable need.
‘Your anus has been widened to allow thicker and longer intruders,’ she said. ‘Also, the skin has been made more sensitive. From now on, I think you’ll find your arse is an even more pleasurable source of sexual entertainment.’
She was now a few inches from my bosom. She slipped her fingers over the straps of the baby doll and then pulled them over my shoulders. The baby doll fell away to reveal my naked and very considerable breasts. A slight gasp of arousal passed between her glistening blood-red lips and then she placed her hands on them, a hand on each, and I experienced a truly startling sensual pleasure. I squealed with sissy delight and her fascinated smile widened.
‘We’ve spent a long time thinking about what makes the skin sensitive to stimulation. The sensory responsiveness of your new breasts has been trebled by chemicals and artificial skin implants. I’m afraid there will never be a moment when they are not providing you with a powerful physical pleasure. The same process has been applied to your arse and cock. The technology we have employed is far more effective and faster acting than that used with Christina and Annette, so in this respect, as in a number of others, you and Pansy are prototypes’
As she spoke, she lightly caressed my substantial breasts and I moaned my helpless pleasure.
‘Of course, you’ll need a good firm bra to handle this load. And I’ve given some serious thought to that.’
She released my breasts and walked over to a relatively small wardrobe built into the curved wall of the room. From inside she took a gorgeous white silk Senso brassiere, its large deep cups decorated with an elegant intricate rose design.
She held it up to me and smiled.
‘Raise your arms above your head.’
I did as she commanded and she brought the bra over to my spectacular sissy form before slipping the cups over my ample chest and clipping the bra tightly in place at my back.
The impact of Senso silk on these ultra-sensitive sex orbs was violently immediate. I screamed with a vast mind-crushing pleasure and felt my cock almost burst out of its very well tested restraint.
Ms Blakemore’s laugh was long and cruel.
‘Brilliant,’ she snapped. ‘You’re completely over-whelmed.’
I fell back onto the bed, stars of unbearable physical delight before my eyes. Ms Blakemore left me wriggling and moaning, returning from the wardrobe with a pair of pink Senso nylon tights and a matching pink leather mini-corset. She held me firmly and managed to get the Senso tights over my legs and pulled tightly into position around my waist. Then she secured the corset around my slender soft waist, binding it with a cruel intent that forced the air from my lungs.
Then she secured me. Using pink rubber-coated cording taken from the wardrobe, my wrists and elbows were tied tightly behind my back. She used a pair of her soiled white silk panties taken from a pocket in her skirt to gag me, sealing them in place with a thick strip of white masking tape. She pulled a cunt-scented white nylon stocking over my head and bound my hosed legs at the knees and ankles with more cording. A final longer length of cording was used to secure my ankles to my wrists, thus leaving me face down on the bed and positioned very uncomfortably in a very strict hogtie.
‘The reaction you’re experiencing is quite normal, Shelly. It will take a while for you to be able to endure this new heightened level of pleasure. I will come back in about two hours. You should have calmed down by then.’
Then she took a familiar small metal box from the pocket and my eyes, seeing the world through a film of sex-stained white nylon and wild animal desire unleashed from the pit of a crazed masochistic id, widened in terrible recognition. She pressed the red button fixed in the centre of the box and the buzzing deep within my stretched relined arse began.
Ms Blakemore left the room, and I was left with the vibrator, the bra and the terrible ecstatic torture of my re-sensitised body. I cried into the pungent gag, I struggled against the tight unforgiving bonds. The hogtie was strict and severe, and I was its helpless ultra-aroused prisoner.
Soon, the ‘I’ was gone: I was totally lost in this sex mania; my consciousness its willing prisoner.
By the time the gorgeous black beauty returns, I have travelled a strange and terrible journey from the edge of sexual madness to a state of extraordinary yet tolerable bliss; a journey up a steep mountain of incredible and mind-bending physical ple
asure that has reached, near its ego-exploding summit, a plateau of bearable ecstasy.
Ms Blakemore is accompanied by Mistress Helen, Christina and one of the other female maids – Myriam. Christina and Myriam untie me and help me to my feet. In Christina’s beautiful brown eyes there is a powerful sissy need and as she pulls me up, she whispers, ‘You’re gorgeous, Shelly.’
I smile weakly at her and feel the tormenting vibrator lodged so deeply inside my soft ultra-sensitive arse shudder to a halt.
‘Without doubt a spectacular success,’ Mistress Helen whispers. ‘This new process will change everything. To think the changing took less than a week. Quite remarkable.’
Mistress Helen is dressed is a black silk blouse and matching jacket and very tight black silk trousers that display her plump but perfectly formed arse to perfection. Her thick glossy main of dark hair is bound in a tight bun with a rose-shaped clasp. She is utterly astonishing.
‘You should thank Ms Blakemore,’ Mistress Helen says, addressing me directly. ‘She has done you a very significant service.’
I nod and curtsey deeply, trying my hardest to control my balance. Then I thank her and my whole world changes yet again. This is the first time I have spoken since waking from the operation, and now I discover the final touch of genius in my transformation. Suddenly, shockingly, I have the voice of a true sissy; a light, high pitched, deeply feminine and slightly lisped tickle of a voice, a collision between the breathy teasing of a sex bomb and the little girl gasps of a wicked Lolita.
The two women clap and laugh as my voice is revealed. I blush furiously and feel my more than ample chest swell with a bizarre mixture of embarrassment and pride.
As they laugh, my now permanently doe eyes fall upon the striking form of Myriam. I have seen little of her since my arrival at the academy, but now I find myself immediately attracted to her buxom Gallic beauty. With short blonde hair, large brown eyes and very full peach-coloured lips, her striking sexual beauty cannot be denied. She is a petite creature, yet also very full figured. Less than five feet five inches tall, she has her own large bosom, a very slender waist, a particularly shapely bottom and long exquisitely shaped legs. And this perfect form is superbly displayed to highly erotic effect by her housemaid’s attire: a tight black silk dress with a very short skirt resting on a cloud of frou-frou petticoating, over which is tightly secured a pretty cream silk white lace-trimmed pinafore. White glacé gloves grace her small elegant hands. Her splendid legs are sealed in black nylon tights, and her small feet rest in black patent leather court shoes, with at least five-inch heels. The tights are delicately and very exactly seamed and map out the perfection of her legs with a strict geometry of sadomasochistic desire.
She was once a French exchange student who worked for a close friend of Mistress Anne’s, referred to in one or two overheard conversations as ‘the divine Amanda’. Myriam had quickly surrendered to Mistress Amanda’s lesbian attentions, and within a few months had been transformed into her sex slave and domestic servant, as well as her employee. Then, she had become involved in the creation of the Sissy Maids Academy, and ever since she had been a willing servant of the Bigger Picture.
Unlike Kathy, the other real girl maid, Myriam seemed to have no distinct ‘head’ mistress; indeed, her role seemed to be to float between the various mistresses ‘as required’.
As I look at her, I feel the immediate and powerful desire I had experienced when I first encountered her during my induction into the SMC academy. In many ways, she is the ‘other half’ of my primary fantasy of the female. The first half is, of course, the plump mature dominatrix, normally dark haired and dark eyed, and typified by Mistress Helen and my gorgeous Aunt Jane. Then there is the other half: the shapely, delicate and in many ways vulnerable blonde – the cute doe eyed sex bomb into which both Pansy and myself were currently being transformed.
Myriam returns my desiring gaze and I experience a thrill of mutual need. Her lovely brown eyes widen and a slight smile crosses her soft peach lips. I feel my tightly restrained sex twitch and stretch and then feel something else: an immediate and soul-crushing guilt. For as I desire Myriam, I also recall the first rule of my sissification: a sissy shall never sexually encounter a real female unless in the line of her duty of absolute obedience and submission. Any form of penetrative sex with a woman is banned outright. It has been made clear to us that any sissy found breaking this primary regulation will be punished in the most profound and permanent manner: full and irreversible sex change.
I divert my gaze from the lovely French beauty, but feel my desire burn even stronger. Luckily, any further contemplation of the gorgeous Myriam is interrupted by Mistress Helen.
‘Now you will be dressed in the formal coming out costume and presented to the other mistresses and servants. Over the next two weeks, you will undergo careful instruction in your enhanced bodies and how to use them to perform your duties. At the end of this period of recovery and discovery, you will be ready for the next part of your formal training: the Placements. However, at the end of the fortnight, the Bigger Picture will, co-incidentally, be holding its annual fund raising dinner at the Academy. This will be a particularly apt venue at which to display our latest creations. By the time of the Ball, there will therefore be a very strong expectation that you will have come to terms with your new physiques.’
I fight to listen to this teasing description of the next few weeks. I try to forget Myriam’s dangerously promising smile, and watch with sex-drugged eyes as Christina returns to the wardrobe of kinky delights at the far side of the oval room. Momentarily I wonder whether Pansy is also undergoing such an exciting induction into the delights of her new body. My cock strains and I fight a moan of dark pleasure. The thought of being displayed in this amazingly erotic ultra-feminine condition before the gorgeous females of the SMC and then at an even larger gathering of Bigger Picture notables is almost too much to endure. I feel a high voltage charge of harsh white sex electricity crash through my sissy veins and once again I experience true sexual bliss.
Christina begins to extract the ‘coming out’ costume from the wardrobe and my eyes widen even further. First, there is the dress, another true masterpiece of ultra-femininity designed by the kinky minds of SMC. It is made from a sparkling pure white silk and covered in tiny perfectly embroidered pink satin roses. It has a very high befrilled neck, with a button-up back that runs from the neck down to the edge of the skirt section. The wide and very short skirt balanced on a thick bed of typically light but also dense frou-frou petticoating, alternating layers of expensive pink and white lace, within which are scattered hundreds of tiny pink and white roses. Its long sleeves are puffed and end in heavily lace befrilled sleeves.
I gasp and the mistresses laugh at my helpless sissy need.
The dress is placed on the bed and I am ordered to remove the teasing pink tights. Eventually, I stand before the gorgeous, clearly very excited Christina in only my tight rubber panties, the teasing mini-corset and the divine Senso bra. Her eyes drink up my amazing breasts and I know she will soon caress them with her beautiful hands and expert tongue. We exchange, once again, a look of intense and unavoidable mutual need.
After the dress, Christina extracts a pair of Senso silk panties and a splendidly elaborate pair of white silk tights. Both these items of fetishistic ultra-femininity continue the theme of the dress: the panties are covered in layers of alternating white and pink lace, and in between each layer is a pattern of the same tiny satin roses that grace the bodice of the dress. The tights are made from the sheerest white silk, and each long semi-transparent leg is decorated with a pattern of white roses that run along elegantly twisting branches from the toes to the gusset area.
I am allowed to sit on the bed to pull the tights up over my long silky smooth legs. As I lean forward, I feel the downward tug of my new large breasts and gasp with pleasure. I raise my bottom up off the bed and slip the tights up around my now broader hips.
The impac
t on my legs is, as usual, immediate and stunning. I stretch out my toes in a helplessly delicate feminine manner and the smiles on the mistresses’ lovely faces broaden. The kiss of silk against my now much more sensitised skin is quite overwhelming. I feel the fat long vibrator, now deactivated, press deeper into my widened anus and fight a louder moan of pleasure.
Then I stand up and try to step into the panties, very much aware of the cool examination of my divine mistresses. I struggle with my balance almost immediately, and Christina rushes forward to prevent an embarrassing fall.
‘I think she’ll be OK after a few hours,’ Mistress Helen says, ‘I don’t think we’ll need the body corset.’
With Christina’s assistance, I pull the soft panties into place over the tights and the rubber mini-panties beneath, the outline of my furiously stiff cock still very apparent.
‘I think you’ll find the erection will now be permanent,’ Ms Blakemore whispers. ‘Adjustments to the hormonal balance will enable you to remain stiff virtually all the time. This, plus the new improved sensitivity to stimulation, and the increased levels of stimulation, will ensure a state of almost constant sexual excitation. This, in turn, will help ensure our total control over your every thought.’
I look at her in awe as Christina takes up the amazing white silk dress. I behold this startling glorification of ultra-femininity and moan with a total mind-crushing pleasure.
Christina kneels down and helps me to slip my delicately hosed feet and legs into the dress. My eyes fix on her own impressive cleavage and she beholds me with a frank desiring gaze. I smile weakly and she whispers, ‘I can’t wait, my sissy love.’
Then the gorgeously soft intricate dress is drawn over my sissified form and I am willingly imprisoned inside it. The dress is surprisingly tight, and its bodice seems to be designed to press tightly against my subtly reshaped waistline. The skirt barely reaches my mid-thighs, and the elegantly befrilled silk panties are clearly visible through the mist of intricate frou-frou petticoating.
Silken Servitude Page 10