The Academy

by

Valentina Michelle Smith

(Part 1)

 

Walking down Emerald Street was like walking through a time warp.

The ten blocks of Emerald Street which comprised the shopping district had long been closed to vehicular traffic. Planters now occupied the center of the street, providing trees and flowers for the pedestrians. Curious shops and bistros lined the streets, offering books, jewelry, organic foods, alternative healing, and any number of goods and services one would not find at the shopping mall. Posters advertising concerts, protests, poetry readings, and other happenings were haphazardly displayed along the concourse. Musicians performed alone or in groups, with the ubiquitous hat set out for tips. People would gather at cafes, pubs, and restaurants for food, drink, conversation, and companionship. A visitor from the summer of love would have felt right at home, save for the obvious anachronisms. A street musician might, for instance, stop playing for a moment to answer his cell phone. A student relaxing in the shade of the trees might be texting somebody on her Blackberry. People relaxing at a cafe might be surfing the net on their laptops. The twenty-first century could not be completely excluded from Emerald Street.

JoEllen loved walking down Emerald Street. She was much too young to remember the Sixties. That decade was, to her, as remote an historic milieu as the World Wars or the American Revolution. But the spirit of the place was somehow infectious, and so she walked the street wearing a broomstick skirt, an embroidered peasant top, a crocheted purse, and Birkenstock sandals. Perhaps the total effect was lessened by the Spaulding gym bag slung over her shoulder.

JoEllen's destination was a second-floor dojo, home of Master Wan. It was here that JoEllen rounded out her University education by studying the martial arts.

She changed into her ghi and wrapped her black belt about herself. She was particularly proud of the belt, as it signified many hours of dedicated study, practice, and hard work. She accepted Master Wan's discipline without question. Today, she was testing for her seventh degree. She knew that Master Wan would not cut her any slack.

She walked across the mat and took her place at one end. She sat in a lotus position and meditated as her master had taught her. Several students entered to watch today's test. When the Master entered, JoEllen stood respectfully.

JoEllen and Master Wan bowed, never taking their eyes off each other. Then Master Wan attacked. JoEllen countered with a kick, spun, and struck with a forearm smash. Master Wan successfully parried the smash and returned with a tiger claw, also successfully parried. For the next twenty minutes, the two sparred, not pulling their punches or their kicks. JoEllen felt some painful bruises forming, but had scored a number of telling blows herself. To penetrate Master Wan's defenses and score a blow was a feat few could brag about.

Combat grew in intensity as the two faced each other with weapons. They sparred with bo staffs, spears, and nunchucks, always maintaining a ferocity that amazed the audience. Finally they faced each other with sai.

Each combatant held a slim dagger-like sai in each hand. The weapon resembles a fork with an extremely elongated center tang. They attacked and parried, engaging in something that was more than a fight. This was like combat set to music, a martial ballet, a pas de deux of sweat and blood. And at the height of its intensity, JoEllen swept past her Master's defenses and managed to scratch his cheek with the tip of her sai.

The fight had ended in slightly more than an hour. JoEllen had triumphed by first blood. Master Wan could not have been happier.

The students all cheered as Master Wan congratulated JoEllen. He bowed before her and presented the goal she had worked so long to achieve; the black belt and ring of the Seventh degree, the highest level of Sho Ren Kun Do. This was a brutal discipline, with no quarter asked and none given. She bowed as she accepted the tokens from her Master. Then they all showered, changed, and went out to celebrate at The County Dump.

On the next Day, JoEllen graduated from the University. She carried a bouquet of roses from her mother, Diana Hunter, who had flown in for the ceremony. Diana was proud of her daughter as she went to the stage to accept her degree in Anthropology. JoEllen was also proud of her achievement, but no less proud of the Seventh Degree ring she now wore.

Together the women cleaned out JoEllen's dormitory room. JoEllen looked around somewhat wistfully at the place that had been her home away from home these last four years. She might pursue a Masters degree, but not right away. Now was the time to return home, to a new chapter in her life.

The limousine was packed with all of JoEllen's possessions. Together, she and Diana rode to the private jet waiting at the airport, and back to Diana's home in the country.

* * * * *

The flight allowed Diana and JoEllen time to catch up.

"Master Wan e-mailed me about your seventh degree," Diana said. "It seems that we have two reasons to celebrate."

"Oh, we managed quite a party at The County Dump," JoEllen answered.

"I hope you behaved yourself," Diana said.

"I did; badly." JoEllen laughed at Diana's shocked expression. "Oh, don't worry, Diana, I didn't sleep with anybody, and I didn't swing from the chandelier. But I did justice to the Karaoke machine."

"Perhaps it was just as well I wasn't there," Diana replied, "I've heard your singing. I suppose as long as you confined your indiscretions to the Karaoke, it can't be too bad."

"So how is Gemmy doing?" JoEllen Asked.

Diana sighed. "Not very well, I'm afraid. She doesn't recognize anybody who visits her, and her body is just breaking down. I'm afraid she hasn't much time."

"Diana, why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to distract you from your studies. I know what you are like when it comes to Mamma. You would have flown back here and not left her side. This year was much too important."

"More important than being with Gemmy, the woman who treated me like her own granddaughter? Diana, if it weren't for you and Gemmy, I'd still be on the streets doing God-knows-what to stay alive!"

"I know, kid, but there was nothing you could do. Mamma's time has come, and all we can do is try to make her comfortable. It's out of our hands now."

A tear formed in JoEllen's eye and trickled down her cheek. "I know, Diana, but there's part of me that thinks I could do more. I know it's not rational, but my gut doesn't care."

"Tell you what, kid. When we land we can go visit Mamma. I don't know what she'll be like, but at least you can be in the room with her."

"Thanks, Diana. I'd like that."

"So would I. And forgive me for changing the subject, but there's something else we need to talk about. Now that you've finished college, have you given any thought to my offer?"

"You mean going to work for the Hunter Group? I didn't think you had any openings for anthropologists."

"You might be surprised. No, I was thinking of something closer to the executive functions. I could use an assistant, and I could teach you our business from the ground up."

"I'm not sure. Can I sleep on it?"

"Sure thing, kiddo, and take all the time you need. But there's another matter we ought to discuss. I think you know what I mean."

"Are you talking about the Ellis process?"

"Yes. JoEllen, dear, you still are biologically male. I can't force you to make a decision, but you could go through the process and be completely female. Or completely male if that's what you want. Believe me; I know what kind of hell it is to be something between the two sexes."

"So why didn't you take the process, Diana?"

Diana was silent. "I have my reasons, and I don't care to discuss them. In any event, my own decision is irrelevant. What I want to know is what you, my daughter, would like."

JoEllen hesitated. "I need to think about this, Diana, and I need more than a night. I promise I'll decide before summer is over."

Diana smiled. "Fair enough and I won't bring it up again until Labor Day. Now why don't we see what kind of box lunch is waiting for us?"

* * * * *

At the airport, JoEllen and Diana were met by two limousines. One returned to Diana's home in the country, laden with JoEllen's things from her dorm room. The other departed for the John Book nursing home, a Mennonite facility for Alzheimer's patients. It was here that Teresa Rossi was being cared for.

The first thing that struck JoEllen was the smell. The care at John Book was exceptional, and Diana made sure that Teresa got the best possible, but even the best care could not prevent the breakdown of bodily functions associated with dementia. The staff struggled to maintain their charges' dignity, but it was a losing battle. As body and mind slowly ebbed away, continence accompanied it. Diana and JoEllen both thought of Jaques' speech in Shakespeare's "As You Like It," and how the last stage of life was so much like the first.

Teresa Rossi was in a geriatric chair in a sunny, airy room. The Gerry chair (as it was known to the staff) was a cross between a recliner and a child's high chair, proportioned for an adult. Teresa was secured in the chair by a harness to prevent any possible falls. She had a rosary in her hands which were resting on the attached tray. Her lips moved as she mumbled the prayers to herself, keeping count with the beads.

She didn't seem to notice when Diana and JoEllen entered the room. Diana kissed her. "Hello, Mamma," she said. "Look, I have a surprise for you. Look who's here. It's JoEllen."

Teresa looked up at JoEllen. The blank expression vanished as lucidity returned to her eyes. "JoEllen?" she asked. "Is that my little Rose?"

"It's me, Gemmy," JoEllen said, recognizing her Gemmy's favorite nickname. "Look, I brought you some pizzelles."

Teresa's smile widened as she was presented with the wafer-thin sweets. "Did you make these, Rose?"

"Yes I did, Gemmy. I made them at the college dorm. I saved some for you."

"Oh, my, that was so wonderful. Do you remember how I told you to make them?"

"I sure do, Gemmy. As soon as I close the press I say a Hail Mary. That way there's a Hail Mary for every pizzelle."

"And there's a prayer in every one," said Teresa. She took one of the pizzelles and bit off the end. There was another smile. "My goodness, you've done well. These pizzelles are as good as any I ever made."

JoEllen blushed at this outpouring of praise. "I still make them the way you showed me, Gemmy. There's no improving on perfection."

"So when do you finish school?" Teresa asked.

"I graduated, Gemmy, and I've come home to live with Diana. I'm going to come over and visit you every day."

"Oh you don't have to come over every day, little Rose. I'm sure you have a lot to do. But it would be nice if you could come over on Sunday after Mass."

JoEllen bit her tongue, unwilling to admit that she rarely if ever attended church. "Sure, Gemmy, I can come over on Sundays. Maybe we can cook something together."

"Now that would be nice. Maybe we can make a decent Sunday dinner for these folks. They try their best, but I'm sure that they use gravy out of a jar."

"Well we'll show them how to make a decent bowl of spaghetti, Gemmy."

They spent an hour together, the most lucid time Teresa had spent in months. She was happy, animated, and engaging, but soon Teresa became tired and asked to be put in bed for a nap. Diana and JoEllen assisted the attendants, then kissed Teresa goodbye. She smiled and went to sleep.

That evening, Teresa Rossi quietly passed away in her sleep.

* * * * *

At the funeral, Diana and JoEllen remained in the background, allowing the immediate family to greet the well-wishers in attendance. Teresa had many friends in the neighborhood, and many relatives. There was of course the small talk, how she passed peacefully, how the various family members never seemed to get together except for weddings, funerals, and first communions. Diana was introduced to all as Teresa's special friend who had enriched her life these past few years. There were comments about the missing Rossi son, Joe, who was probably in hiding or in prison. He had broken his mother's heart when he went bad, perhaps it was just as well he stayed away.

Diana announced that a luncheon would be offered at a nearby restaurant. Everybody dispersed. Most would go to the restaurant for lunch, others would simply depart. Diana and JoEllen remained at graveside, accompanied by two other women, agents of America's most covert organization. They were also Diana's friends, Margo Lane and Mary Risberg.

Diana had been maintaining a façade of strength. It now crumbled as she allowed her grief to finally overwhelm her. Supported by her daughter and her friends, Diana wept. Her tears fell onto Teresa's casket, still suspended by the slings that would lower it into the vault for burial.

It took a few minutes for Diana to regain her composure. Her eyes were red from her tears, as were JoEllen's. Diana took JoEllen and showed her the headstone next to Teresa's grave. It was a simple affair of pink marble that had room for two names. Above both, like the title of a chapter, was written the family name, Rossi. Below and to the right another name was carved: Anne, Beloved Wife.

"This is where my Annie is buried," Diana said. "Her death changed my life. The story of my life is like a song, a series of changes. I guess losing Mamma is the latest change."

Diana knelt at Anne's headstone. She kissed it, leaving the imprint of her lipstick on the marble. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Annie. We missed so much of what we were supposed to have together."

Diana stood, still addressing the spirit of a spouse long dead. "What do you think of JoEllen? I'm really proud of her. I'm sure you would have been proud of her, too."

Then Diana turned back to the casket. "Mamma," she said, "I'm sorry for all the pain I caused you. I'm glad we had time to make peace. And I'm glad that JoEllen, your little Rose, brought such joy into your life. Would you look at her? She's all grown up now. I'm so proud of her. I know you are too." At this Diana began to cry again, and so did JoEllen.

They were not expecting an attack.

Margo Lane and Mary Risberg saw them first. Three gardeners who seemed to be weeding the flower bed surrounding the statue of The Blessed Mother suddenly produced Uzi's. As they swung them to their shoulders to fire, Margo and Mary reacted with a speed born from years of training. They both shouted "Gun!" and moved to place their bodies between the assailants and their protectees. Automatic gunfire barked across the tranquil green of Wildwood Cemetery as a hail of bullets tore through the air.

Diana was knocked flat by the force of Margo Lane's body. Mary Risberg faltered but remained standing. She didn't expect JoEllen's reaction.

JoEllen pushed Mary Risberg out of the way and flung three shuriken. Each deadly disc found a mark, and the three shooters dropped.

Mary rose shakily to her feet, ignoring the wound in her right arm to call for backup. Diana pushed out from under Margo, fearing the worst. She was relieved when her friend and protector groaned. "Damn," she said, "I didn't know if this body armor would stop an Uzi round."

"Just what the hell happened?" Diana demanded. "Who are these people?"

"I hope whatever you tipped your Shuriken with wasn't fatal," Risberg remarked.

"Just something to put them to sleep," JoEllen replied.

"That was some fine work," Risberg said as three black vans arrived. An army of black-clad commandos emerged, taking defensive positions around the gravesite. "Let's get back to the store," Mary ordered, "and we can take the assassins with us for questioning."

"Excuse me, Mother," said one of the commandos, "but I don't think they'll be much use."

Mary bent over the lifeless body. She could smell a very distinctive aroma: bitter almonds.

"Cyanide!" she said. "They all killed themselves rather than be captured. But how…?"

"We can figure that out later," Margo said, "right now we need to get Diana and JoEllen to a safe location."

Under the watchful protection of the commandos, the four women entered one of the vans and sped off. The remaining commandos gathered up the lifeless bodies and left. Their destination was a certain building in the city, a building distinguished by its total lack of any distinguishing features. It seemed to be just another concrete monolith, like every other utilitarian building in the city. You have probably walked past it many times without ever wondering about it, or the business conducted within.

Of course, if I told you exactly where this building is located, I would have to kill you.

* * * * *

"It's been a while," said JoEllen. She was seated in Mary Risberg's office with Mary and Diana. "In fact, the last time I was here was when Diana adopted me."

"I've been here a few times since," Diana said, "but not often. Mary, how is your arm?"

"Just some soft tissue damage," Mary said. "I've had worse in my career. Margo didn't sustain any wounds but the force of the bullets bruised her through the body armor. By the way, Diana, we owe Hunter Defensive Systems our thanks, your body armor made all the difference."

"Thank the engineers and scientists who made it," Diana said, "I don't run the place, I just own it."

"I'll be sure to send them a letter on Justice Department letterhead."

"We're dancing around the main topic," said JoEllen. "Who are these people and why did they try to kill us?"

Mary looked over at Diana. "Diana, this has something to do with your past. Are you comfortable with letting JoEllen know about it?"

"Whether I'm comfortable or not, once the lead started flying JoEllen was involved. She deserves to know why somebody tried to kill her."

"Very well; please come with me." Risberg rose from her desk and opened her office door, indicating for Diana and JoEllen to follow. They went to the elevator. Mary keyed in a special code and the car dropped to one of the basement levels.

They emerged onto a corridor which they followed past two doors. Risberg opened the third door they encountered.

Inside was a well-lit morgue, with three bodies laid out. Their appearance was surprising. Each body possessed a feminine shape with wide hips and well-developed breasts. And each body had a penis and scrotum.

Diana gasped when she saw the bodies. "Oh sweet Jesus on a Harley!" she said, "Tuckett!"

"That's the connection we made, Diana, but Regina Tuckett is dead."

"I should know, Mary, I killed her."

JoEllen was confused. "Diana, what's going on here?"

"It's a long story, kid, and up to now you've only heard part of it. Suppose it's time you heard the whole story."

"That isn't the only thing we discovered, Diana. They appear to have some sort of receiver implanted just behind their ear, and they each had a hollow tooth filled with cyanide. We theorize that the poison was released when their mission was compromised. Whoever transformed them also used some powerful mind-control techniques."

Diana's expression turned grim. It was as though a part of her long buried was returning. "Yes, behavioral conditioning by means of induced pain. Now where have I heard that before?"

"You have to admit the resemblance is striking," Risberg said.

"Whoever this was made a serious mistake. When I find her I will demonstrate personally the gravity of her mistake."

"Diana," Mary said, "you really ought to leave this to the professionals. That's what we're here for."

"And I am grateful, Mary, but this bastard threatened my family, and I take that very personally. Just pray that you find them before I do.

"JoEllen, we need to talk. There's a lot you have to know."

Diana left with JoEllen following. They left in a limousine and drove to the airport, where they boarded a private twin turboprop. Diana was piloting.

"Where are we going, Diana?" JoEllen asked.

"I have a place in the Adirondacks with a private airstrip. It's isolated and it has some special security measures. We'll stay there for a few weeks."

They were at cruising altitude when JoEllen asked Diana about the bodies.

"You already know a little bit about it, JoEllen. You know that I was made a prisoner like you had been and was transformed into what I am today. But you never were told the entire story.

"It's not pretty, and there are parts of it that I am not particularly proud of. But after what happened today, you deserve to know."

Diana paused, and then related the events of her life, from Joe Rossi becoming a wiseguy for the Mancuso mob, through testifying against Mancuso and entering witness protection, through becoming entangled with the Sisterhood and his transformation into a female-form maid. She told JoEllen about her escape and execution of her captors, and how she systematically hunted down and executed all of the remaining members of the Sisterhood, except for the Ellis sisters. *

"I mistook Heather for Catherine and almost killed her. I was stopped before I could carry out my plan. And both Heather and Catherine forgave me. That's when my life changed again, and I transformed Tuckett's former empire into a force for good.

"Unfortunately, I had not completely eliminated all of the Sisterhood. Tuckett still had some potential recruits in the pipeline, women I knew nothing about. One of them nearly killed me. Now it seems there's another loose end to tidy up."

JoEllen asked, "Diana, is there any way I can help?"

Diana smiled. "I hoped to shield you from all of this, kid. I wanted a better life for you. Perhaps I was trying to live vicariously through you. But somebody out there doesn't share my desires. They want to kill me, and if they can get to me by attacking you they won't hesitate to do so."

"So what are we going to do?" JoEllen asked.

"We'll keep under the radar for a few weeks. My place in the Adirondacks is owned through a front corporation that has no connection to the Hunter Group. While we're laying low I'm going to show you how to handle firearms. I hope you learn well, your life may depend on it."

Diana consulted her watch. "It's time to start our decent." She pulled back on the throttle and brought the aircraft into a slow decent. They flew straight into the airstrip.

* * * * *

The Adirondacks are beautiful in late spring. Rolling hills full of trees and meadows, sparkling lakes and streams, and a bounty of wildlife all combined to produce a feeling of tranquility. It was ironic that this peaceful locale was the setting for some very deadly training.

JoEllen was already a skilled marksman with a rifle. Diana introduced her to the world of the handgun and the assault rifle. JoEllen became an expert in the care and operation of dozens of weapons, from a Colt revolver to an AR-15. She learned how to disassemble, clean, reassemble, reload, and fire each weapon under a variety of conditions.

Of course, they didn't spend all of their time shooting up the woods. For relaxation they often would walk through the woods and meadows, sometimes taking a swim in the icy waters of a mountain lake, or simply allowing the beauty of their natural surroundings to wash over them. In the evenings they would cook for each other, sharing the wealth of Teresa Rossi's recipes. Evenings were spent reading, listening to music, and reflecting upon the day's events.

They were not completely isolated. They kept up on the events of the world via Internet, newspapers, and television. But they rarely interacted with other persons. Food was delivered from nearby stores, and they had all of the clothing they would need.

Two months had gone by. Diana felt that they could safely return to the mainstream world. And so, in late summer, they left as they had come in Diana's twin turboprop. JoEllen, envious of Diana's skill as a pilot, decided then to take flight training.

Several huge piles of mail awaited them when they returned to Diana's country home. They took their respective piles and retired to their rooms to sort it all out.

That was when JoEllen found the letter that changed her life once again.

* * * * *

They had finished breakfast when JoEllen told Diana about the letter.

"It's from Peter N________. He wants me to meet with Mary Risberg. I think Mother wants to recruit me."

Diana was concerned. "Risberg is in a dangerous line of work, kid, and you will be putting yourself in harm's way. Are you certain that this is what you want to do?"

"Diana, you always taught me to pay forward, to do what I can to make things better for the next generation. This will be my way of paying forward."

Diana considered the situation. "I'm not happy about this, but I have to respect your decision. I guess my reservations are selfish ones. I really wanted to spend some time with you when you finished school. These last two months were some of the best times of my life.

"Go ahead and keep the meeting, JoEllen. If you decide to join, I won't stand in your way; but if you decide against it, I certainly won't be unhappy."

JoEllen rose from her chair and embraced the woman who had adopted her. "Thank you, Diana. I only hope I find the bastard who tried to kill you."

"That won't be your call, kid. You'll be working for Mary Risberg, and she gets to tell you where to go and what to do. And if I find out you're giving her any grief, I'll come after you myself."

They laughed and hugged again. Then JoEllen went to shower and change for her meeting.

As she drove away, Diana reflected on the irony of the situation. JoEllen would never refer to her as "Mother" or "Mom." This was a leftover scar from one of the abusive foster homes that a young Joel had been placed in. Now JoEllen would be referring to Mary Risberg by her code name: Mother.

The limousine drove to the city. It returned without a passenger.

* * * * *

It had been four months since the assassination attempt on Diana Hunter, and she had seemingly vanished from the planet. Desdemona Raventree was not happy.

She studied the reports, looking for some clue to Hunter's whereabouts. Finding none, she filed the reports and poured herself a stiff drink. As she savored the smoky flavor of the whiskey and the warm vapor of the alcohol rising in her nasal passages, Desdemona ruminated over the past two decades.

Desdemona had been a rising star in the world of business, but soon encountered that barrier women called the glass ceiling. Bitter over her failure to advance despite what she considered to be her superior ability, she was ripe for recruitment when she met Regina Tuckett.

Tuckett had shown Raventree a new world of possibilities, a world in which women were supreme and wielded power over a group of effete, emasculated men. She would savor her control over a forcibly feminized slave, secure in her personal wealth and in her suzerainty.

But just as Raventree was to be inducted into this inner circle, this Sisterhood that Tuckett had described, it vanished. The empire that Tuckett had founded was suddenly closed to Raventree, and Tuckett herself seemed to disappear.

Raventree bided her time, slowly building her assets and consolidating her power. By various means she had come into possession of many of Tuckett's key files, particularly those outlining the transformation process. Raventree used this knowledge to further her plan. Not content with merely dominating a small group of men, Desdemona Raventree had higher aspirations. Not only did she desire revenge on all males, her revenge would never be complete until she dominated all men.

The Academy was her vehicle to world domination.

She took another sip and let the liquor roll over her tongue. She savored the burning sensation, and reflected on her second objective in life, revenge. She knew that Regina Tuckett's empire had been absorbed by the enigmatic CEO of the Hunter Group. Somehow, Diana Hunter had ousted Tuckett and assumed control of Tuckett's enterprises. In the process, the Sisterhood had also become extinct. Desdemona Raventree never forgave Diana Hunter for postponing her revenge upon all things male.

Raventree had become obsessed with visiting some sort of revenge upon this mystery woman. As she gained power and amassed her own personal empire, Raventree searched out Hunter, hoping for an opportune moment to realize her vengeance. One such moment had recently slipped through her fingers. And now the mysterious Diana Hunter had seemingly disappeared with no trace.

Desdemona finished her drink and turned her attention to other matters. A new class of students had arrived, ant it was her policy to greet all newcomers personally. She stood, adjusted her tight black uniform, and picked up her riding crop, the badge of office each Mistress carried.

Outside in the courtyard, a bus from Juvenile Corrections was discharging its passengers, ten new students for the Academy. They were all boys, aged from fourteen to sixteen, dressed in orange jumpsuits. Each boy affected a tough attitude, which did not surprise Desdemona one bit. She knew that they were hiding behind a façade, not daring to reveal the fear each one truly felt. They would soon learn to be far more afraid.

The boys were outnumbered by twenty female guards, each dressed in the black uniform of a dominatrix. The guards formed the boys into a ragged line. Desdemona addressed them.

"Welcome to The Academy, ladies," she said.

The boys began to snigger and one laughed out loud. He was immediately rewarded with the butt of a baton in his stomach. He doubled over in pain, and was roughly lifted straight. "No laughing in line!" the guard shouted.

"That is your first lesson, ladies, you will always show respect to your Mistresses. I will tolerate no disrespect. Am I understood?"

Desdemona was greeted by stunned silence. "Evidently our new students need some more persuasion. Mistresses, please administer the governors."

Each boy was roughly forced to his knees by the guards. A device resembling a paint gun was pressed behind each boy's right ear; the trigger was squeezed, followed by a click and a hiss.

Raventree commanded the boys to stand. As they rose slowly to their feet, she pressed a stud on her riding crop. All of the boys were consumed by intense pain, as though they had all been thrown into a raging inferno. They crumbled and cried out.

The pain quit as suddenly as it had begun, leaving the boys dazed. "Get up," Raventree commanded. All of the boys leaped to their feet, only to be felled by another intense burst of agony. "Whenever any Mistress gives a command you will acknowledge it by saying 'Yes, Mistress.' Do you understand?"

In unison the boys replied, "Yes, Mistress."

More agony licked across their nerves. "What did you say?" she said.

"Yes, Mistress," they said.

"Louder!" she commanded.

"YES MISTRESS," shouted ten voices.

"You will acknowledge any command with the reply of 'Yes Mistress.' You will immediately comply with the command of any Mistress. You will only speak when spoken to. The first word and the last word out of your filthy hole will be 'Mistress' or you will be punished immediately. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Mistress!" they answered, fearing another round of pain.

Desdemona paced in front of the boys. She could taste the fear in their souls, and found the flavor positively intoxicating. "You have been sent here because you have all been very bad boys. You have all been convicted of major violent offenses. You have demonstrated time and time again that you are incapable of civilized behavior. We shall civilize all of you.

"From this moment on, your life as an unruly boy is over. We shall mold your behavior into that of a proper young lady. You shall learn to walk, talk, dress, and act as the lady you shall become. Do you understand me?"

There was a moment of hesitation, rewarded with a brief lick of pain. "Yes, Mistress," they shouted out.

"Each Mistress has a riding crop similar to mine. Those little devices we injected behind your ears are transdermal governors. They can induce pain directly into your brain's pain center without actually harming you, but you shall still feel it. We will not hesitate to punish you for the slightest infraction. Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress," they answered without hesitation.

"You shall be taught to serve. You shall learn all domestic tasks such as cleaning, cooking, sewing, and laundry. No task shall be too menial for you. Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress," they chorused. Oh, how easily they are molded, thought Desdemona.

"As your first act toward becoming civilized, you will immediately strip. Remove all of your male clothing now." Raventree took delight in the way each boy hurried to disrobe. Several of the Mistresses had to use some persuasion when a few balked at removing their underwear. But they all complied, and now stood naked in the courtyard.

Each boy was handed a canvas sack and instructed to put all of his clothing into it. The sacks were loaded onto a cart. Then each boy was given a bundle of clothing and instructed to dress. The clothing was all female.

The boys struggled and fumbled, unfamiliar with the garments but unwilling to show any hesitation lest they feel the wrath of the Mistresses. Plain cotton panties went on easily, but the brassieres were another matter. Two boys were punished when they attempted to help each other with the snaps. The mistresses wanted the boys to master their new garments without any help.

Bras were followed by garter belts and stockings, which required a demonstration from the Mistresses accompanied by some painful reinforcement. Raventree watched closely as the boys pulled slips over their heads, followed by their new school uniforms. Each boy now wore a plaid jumper with a pleated skirt and a white blouse. Black pumps with a one-inch heel completed the ensemble.

"This is your uniform for all occasions. You shall wear it at all times except during physical education, where you will all be given appropriate gym uniforms. When performing domestic chores you shall wear an appropriate apron. Do you understand, ladies?"

"Yes, Mistress," the boys answered in chorus.

"One more item remains before you report to your dormitory. As of this moment, you are a girl. You shall no longer answer to your male name. You have all been assigned a new female name. When I call your former male name step forward and say 'Yes, Mistress.'

"John Cox.!"

A boy stepped forward. "Yes, Mistress," he answered.

"Your name is Karen. Repeat your name."

"Karen, Mistress."

Step back, Karen. Lawrence Porter!"

"Yes, Mistress!"

"Your name is Judith. Repeat your name."

"Judith, Mistress."

Step back, Judith." Desdemona repeated this ritual until she came to the last boy. "Joel Miller," she called.

JoEllen had been waiting. She had not presented herself as a male for years, since Diana had adopted her. Now, the newly minted agent of America's most covert organization stepped forward. She had hoped she would not appear too familiar with the garments as she put each one on, lest her familiarity with them betray her, and so she appeared to struggle with the brassiere snaps. She stepped forward. "Yes, Mistress," she said.

"Your name is Jessica. Repeat your name."

"Jessica, Mistress," she replied.

Desdemona took stock of this one. He looked like the rest of them, perhaps a bit smaller, but there was something about him. This was a spirited young man. He would be a challenge, but he might also be an asset. "Step back, Jessica," she said.

JoEllen stepped back in line.

"Now, ladies, the Mistresses will show you to your dormitories. You will be expected to keep your area clean at all times. Your training begins tomorrow. Now move!"

"Yes, Mistress," they all replied. At the command of the guards they all turned and walked in single file to a building across the courtyard. Some of the boys stumbled in their high heels, but none dared to lag behind. Silently, they all entered the dormitory.

 

(end of part 1)

(c) 2006 Valentina Michelle Smith

* For details please read the previous stories from the Diana Hunter cycle; "Best Served Cold", "Endgame", "Whatever Became of the Susterhood?", and "By Dreams Betrayed".

  

  

  

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