Company of Slaves

by Christina Shelly

  So it was a real surprise when, on that fourteenth morning, the door to the nursery slid open and I found myself looking up from the cot I shared with Pansy at the splendid figures of my aunt, Ms Hartley and the two gorgeous sisters, Justine and Juliette. As this collection of amazing women entered the nursery, I squealed with shock and arousal, waking Pansy, who soon became aware of the cause of my dummy-gagged moans and promptly joined in.

  Juliette rushed forward and peered down into the cot, our tightly secured, prone and prettily babified forms obviously a source of very considerable amusement.

  ‘Oh my God, look at them!’ she screeched, her eyes wide with a cruel, teasing humour. ‘They look sooo cute!!’

  I found myself blushing furiously, especially when the cool, beautiful Justine joined her playful, wicked sister, a slight, ironic smile on her lovely face.

  Aunt Jane and Ms Hartley joined the sisters and our exposure was dreadfully complete.

  ‘My, my,’ Aunt Jane whispered. ‘What a pretty pair.’

  ‘A big improvement,’ Ms Hartley snapped. ‘They should be kept like this permanently.’

  ‘Oh yes!’ Juliette cried. ‘Yes, let’s build a big nursery at home and keep them in that. Keep them nappied and dummied forever!’

  ‘We’ll see,’ my aunt said, her eyes appraising me with a cruel stare and her mind no doubt pondering my ultra-kinky sissy future. ‘They’ve got to get through the SMC course first, and then…well, then they have to earn their livings.’

  Then the splendid, regal form of Mistress Helen appeared by the cot, Christina at her side.

  ‘Get them up and into the highchairs,’ she instructed the wondrous she-male beauty. ‘Their guardians can feed them breakfast.’

  Christina quickly lowered the wooden side panel and released the shackles that held us so tightly in place. Luckily, I had avoided wetting myself during the night, but it was clear from the fearful look in Pansy’s pretty sissy eyes that she had filled her nappy. This meant, as it always meant, a sound spanking from Miss Blakemore, whose wonderful, uniformed body was now standing in the doorway!

  As we were pulled from the cot and led to the highchairs, Mistress Helen introduced the other women to Miss Blakemore. As we were individually strapped into the chairs by Christina, the impressive black beauty detailed our performance over the last two weeks, inspiring much derisive laughter.

  Satisfied that we were appropriately secured, Christina turned to Mistress Helen.

  ‘Pansy has wet herself, Mistress,’ the sexy she-male announced.

  Poor Pansy squealed angrily into her fat dummy gag at this cruel betrayal and Mistress Helen nodded sternly.

  ‘A spanking after breakfast, I think. Perhaps Juliette would like to do the honours?’

  Juliette made it loudly apparent that she would, turning towards Pansy with a wide, vicious smile that promised nothing but suffering. The terrified sissy looked deep into Juliette’s eyes and saw not just her short-term fate but a much longer sentence. It was now becoming clear that the two sisters would play a very important part in our lives once we were released from the SMC academy and that Juliette, cruel, kinky and horny, would be taking a considerable amount of responsibility for the sweet, doe-eyed sissy who had once been a shy, handsome schoolboy and her classmate.

  Kathy then entered the room, carrying a large silver tray laden with that morning’s babified breakfast. As usual, she was dressed in the sexy black maid’s costume and looked good enough to eat. I had already gathered from Christina’s slightly indiscreet conversations with Annette that Kathy was very much Mistress Helen’s plaything and as she minced towards us, I found myself envying her long nights of lesbian submission.

  Kathy placed the tray down on the table by the highchairs and Mistress Helen asked Aunt Jane and Ms Hartley ‘to do the honours’.

  Christina and Kathy quickly removed the fat cum-soaked dummy gags from our soft sissy mouths and the two women who had so beautifully and expertly introduced us to the world of petticoat discipline took up the large plastic bottles.

  Aunt Jane was dressed in a very sexy red silk dress, its tight, gleaming fabric hugging her curvaceous, mature form in a most erotic manner. The dress, with its short skirt and plunging neckline, displayed her long, black-stockinged legs and large, firm bosom to spectacular effect, and as she leant forward to slip the fat teat of the plastic bottle between my lips, I was privileged with a very fine view of her impressive cleavage.

  Our eyes met as the teat entered my more than willing mouth and my poor, long-tormented and deeply frustrated cock begged for mercy in its tight and apparently endless restraint.

  ‘This is how I always wanted you, Shelly,’ she whispered, as I began to suck hungrily on the teat. ‘My sweet, doe-eyed baby girl. When you return to me, I intend to make sure you spend plenty of time tightly nappied and dummied.’

  I squirmed in the highchair and filled my wide, sex-maddened eyes with the gorgeous vision of her splendid bosom.

  ‘Would you like that, babikins?’ she cooed, moving closer, her powerful musk perfume washing over my babified form, her chest pressing against the soft, tormenting fabric of the romper suit.

  I nodded helplessly and sucked harder on the teat, remembering the transcendent joy of suckling on her plump, perfectly formed breasts and wishing so much that she would unbutton the dress now and let me feed on her as I was slowly masturbated to a volcanic and so desperately needed orgasm.

  But soon the emptied bottle was removed and I was forced to consume yet another bowl of the strange pink mush that was my staple diet in this kinky academy.

  After the meal, my aunt stepped back, a cool, slightly amused smile on her face and handed the bowl to Christina.

  We were then tightly dummy-gagged again, released from the chair and led to the bathroom by the two maids, leaving the group of splendid women to talk and laugh amongst themselves. In the bathroom we were stripped and showered, powdered and perfumed, before being carefully dressed in the spectacular baby girl dresses and the array of associated sissy attire which was currently our ‘daywear’.

  Nappied, pantied, bonneted, mittened and dummied, we were led out to our mistresses, the plastic panties squeaking, the silken booties demanding the now familiar sissy shuffle. Babified in Senso, our silken forms subject to a constant and wildly arousing tactile torment, we were presented to the group of beautiful, dominant women, utterly subjugated and humiliated, and lost in the most severe form of perverse sexual excitement.

  My gorgeous aunt smiled and clapped. Ms Hartley allowed the briefest of smiles to cross her thin, hard lips and her dark, cruel eyes seemed to burn into Pansy’s pretty form and confess the hours of sadomasochistic pleasure that both were to experience in the coming months and years. Justine’s reaction was even less expressive than Ms Hartley’s. She was dressed in a tight black sweater and matching slacks, plus very high-heeled ankle boots. Her mane of golden hair was bound in a tight, stern bun. She was the ideal, if somewhat youthful dominatrix, and I knew that I was to be hers in a most intimate and absolute manner, a thought that filled me with a fierce, all-pervasive happiness. Juliette clapped her hands and jumped up and down with a cruelly mocking enthusiasm.

  ‘Oh yes! Perfect, just perfect!!’

  We shuffled up to this group of beauties and performed deep, dainty curtsies, exposing our gleaming plastic panties and stocking tops and the bulging nappies that were now our permanent companions.

  Then the lovely, ample Miss Blakemore stepped forward.

  ‘Today is your last day in the nursery. Tomorrow you will begin the Junior Maid training programme. This will last four weeks. You will then undergo a number of operative procedures to complete your physical transformation.’

  We nodded wearily as Miss Blakemore reiterated our strange sissy fate.

  ‘I can’t wait to see what they look like with titties!’ Juliette shouted, inspiring more cruel laughter.

  ‘I’m sure they’ll both look perfectly delightful,’
Aunt Jane said, her gorgeous brown eyes never leaving mine.

  ‘I see that both are due to receive rather considerable implants,’ Mistress Helen said, looking down at a clipboard she had been carrying since entering the nursery.

  ‘Yes, we would like each of them to have a particularly generous bust. It seems a fitting symbol of their subjugation, and a constant reminder of their inescapable sissy natures.’

  Mistress Helen smiled at Aunt Jane’s teasing words. ‘Yes. Absolutely.’

  My head bowed, my cock screaming for release, the sweet taste of Mistress Helen filling my well-stopped mouth, I found myself contemplating the pleasures and tests of my future bosom with a deep and desperate sissy anticipation.

  ‘Anyway,’ Mistress Helen then continued, ‘we have the little matter of Pansy’s wet nappy.’

  ‘Yes!’ Juliette intervened. ‘We definitely need to deal with that!’

  Pansy looked up, tears in her still helplessly aroused eyes.

  ‘Kathy,’ Miss Blakemore said. ‘Can you arrange Pansy?’

  Kathy stepped forward and took poor, quivering Pansy by a mittened hand and led her towards the cot. At the same time, Christina went over to one of the wardrobes and retrieved a silver-handled hairbrush, the usual tool of punishment within the nursery’s walls.

  Pansy was made to lie face down over the lowered side of the cot, so that her tummy and face were pressed into the thick rubber mattress and her pert, nappied and pantied bottom rose out of a cloud of frou-frou petticoating, helpless, exposed, delectable.

  Christina curtsied deeply before a highly excited Juliette and passed her the cruel-looking hairbrush. Juliette smiled wickedly and then strolled over to poor, squirming, sobbing Pansy.

  Kathy had already taken a length of pink silk ribboning from a pocket in her splendid dress and was busy tightly securing Pansy’s mittened wrists behind her back. The poor, frightened sissy moaned pathetically into her phallic dummy gag. The beautiful maid then raised Pansy’s spectacular petticoats and tucked them around her waist. The very short, wide hem of the baby dress meant that her plastic panties were fully exposed, and it was a simple task to lower them over her shapely, nylon-stockinged legs and down around her bootied ankles. Kathy then quickly unpinned the nappy and pulled it free of her quivering form, revealing her beautifully shaped, pale-rose sissy bottom to the wide, aroused eyes of the mistresses.

  ‘Such a lovely little thing,’ Ms Hartley whispered, ‘I really can’t wait until she returns to us. Especially once the nursery has been finished.’

  I watched and listened, curious and excited, both looking forward to Pansy’s spanking and, not so secretly, wishing I could join her. As this thought crossed my perverse mind, my gaze met Justine’s. She was looking at me with her usual mix of intensity and desire and I felt myself being swallowed up in a future where she was my divine goddess. Then I looked at my gorgeous, smiling aunt. I was her creation, without her my new identity would have been impossible. How much I wanted her, and how much more I wanted to serve her. It was clear that both she and Ms Hartley were deeply impressed by this introductory babification, and I knew now that both intended to explore this facet of our glorious transformation once we were back under their velvet-gloved and very strict control.

  Juliette, a wide smile on her beautiful, fresh face, stepped forward. Her eyes aflame with sadistic arousal, she then administered twelve hard whacks to Pansy’s exposed behind, her own pretty face turning the same dark crimson colour as Pansy’s bouncing bottom as she delivered the blows with a cruel verve, a dark desire, a blistering, relentless enthusiasm. I watched this young woman and once again found myself pitying and envying Pansy. It was clear that, in Mistress Anne, she had the harshest of the academy’s beautiful leaders, and in Juliette she had a powerful, aggressive and deeply sadistic mistress who would undoubtedly use her youthful energy and imagination to subject Pansy to a constant regime of painful and deeply kinky female dominance.

  As the sound of the hairbrush slapping hard against sissy flesh filled the room, I found myself looking at the semicircle of beautiful dominants watching this perverse entertainment. In their lovely, wide eyes there was one shared colour: the colour of a helpless and very considerable sexual excitement, a colour that was also in Christina’s and Kathy’s eyes, and which was undoubtedly also in mine.

  Eventually Juliette stood back from her pretty sissy victim, whose shapely, sexy bottom was now a cherry-red jelly wobbling prettily under the powerful nursery lights. A flood of sad, helpless tears poured from Pansy’s eyes onto the rubber sheet that covered the cot’s king-size mattress. The women clapped and cheered Juliette’s cruel commitment and the work of sadomasochistic art that was Pansy’s inflamed bottom. Juliette took a mock bow and Kathy stepped forward to untie and redress the poor babified sissy.

  ‘Well done, Jules,’ Aunt Jane said, placing a very long and disturbingly passionate kiss on the young woman’s full, peach-coloured lips, a kiss that Juliette accepted with some enthusiasm.

  ‘Well, ladies,’ Mistress Helen added, ‘after that particularly amusing entertainment, I suggest I show you the rest of our little academy and then we meet up with the other mistresses for tea and biscuits.’

  The women nodded in agreement, but before they left, they were allowed to watch Pansy and I being placed in the playpen, forced down into a kneeling position and then tightly bound hand and foot with silk ribbons. Mistress Helen then slipped the oblong vibrator control from a pocket in her skirt and our eyes widened with fear and arousal. She pressed the pink button in the centre of the box, and within a few seconds our arses were once again being cruelly and beautifully tormented by the phalluses. As we squirmed, wiggled and moaned, there was much laughing and some mock clapping, plus a few now somewhat unoriginal remarks about ‘real cocks’ in our increasingly exciting sissy futures.

  Then they left, the only backward glance from Aunt Jane, a glance filled with love and desire, and with a heart-stopping promise of the pleasures we would find together in the not too distant future.

  * * *

  The rest of that final day of babification passed like any other, except that the vibrators were left running constantly at a very high speed and, other than Christina and Kathy, we had no visitors.

  Pansy had obviously been terribly turned on by her spanking and throughout the long, sensual day she seemed in even more of a sex trance than was usual.

  The hours passed, but I had no real idea of the passage of time any more. My mind was fried by desire and all I could think of was the hope of sexual release, a hope fuelled by the sweet, teasing memories of the months that had led up to this strange, timeless moment. Memories of my first nervous and exquisite experience of women’s clothing, of the exciting discovery by my splendid aunt, of her soft, expert mouth engulfing my rigid, virgin sex, of the joy in being dressed by her for the first time, of the overwhelming pleasure of being subjected to her wicked command, even of the masochistic delight I discovered in the way she teased me into panties and then established the most profoundly strict regime of pretty petticoat discipline. Then there was the spectacular encounter with Dominic and the terrible confession of my deeply bisexual desire, a desire given amazing life by the feel of his hard, long cock in my sissy mouth and the pure ecstasy that filled my soul as his cum crashed against my throat. And then there was the cruel birth of Pansy, and Dominic’s own sissy confession, our joyous joint bondage (including the constant presence of the restrainer and rings), our splendid sissy lovemaking, our joint discovery of the dark pleasures of the SMC website. And the unforgettable encounter with Justine and Juliette and the parallel induction into the mysterious and cosmic joy of Senso. There was the Bigger Picture, linked inextricably to my stunning early encounter with the stern, beautiful Lady Emily Ashcroft. A Bigger Picture yet to be fully revealed, but whose servants we now most surely were. And then, finally, their was SMC itself, the Sissy Maids Company, and its stunning executives, and its strange, glorious training academy,
deep in whose heart we were now so tightly bound and gagged.

  I looked over at Pansy and found in her wide, tear-stained eyes a look of helpless, furious desire. I wiggled closer to her and we pressed the plates of our inescapable dummy gags together, remembering the past and the present, and reaffirming what we could now only see as our love.

  It was later, perhaps much later, when the nursery door slid open and Christina and Annette entered the nursery. Each was dressed in a very short and terribly sexy silk robe, Christina’s in shimmering black and Annette’s in sparkling hot pink. The short robes barely reached the edges of legs sheathed in nylon stockings held in place with lace-trimmed garters. Christina’s stockings were black and Annette’s, of course, were pink. Each wore five-inch high-heeled patent leather mules, also appropriately colour coded. Each had released their long, thick hair from the bondage of tight sissy buns or ponytails, and their gorgeous locks flowed over their silk-sheathed shoulders like tumbling waterfalls of jet and amber.