The story may be read and copied but may not be changed in any way.
The Gilded Cage 1
by: Anne Browning
INTRODUCTION
In her book Little Lord Fauntleroy first published in 1886, Frances Hodgson Burnett depicted the merging of American culture and British aristocracy. Her book and the illustrations depicting Little Lord Fauntleroy began a fashion for feminising young boys at the turn of the century. Following recently completed research of the House of Dorincourt, Historian Anne Browning has unearthed evidence that feminisation was used by this aristocratic family to control the bad habits of its young males. The technique proved so successful that the Fauntleroy Foundation was established to provide this technique to many of Britain’s titled families.
Following the death of the last Earl of Dorincourt the title passed to the dowager Countess of Dorincourt, Lady Miranda Fauntleroy. Lady Miranda who now resides in the USA became responsible for the establishment of the foundation in this country, to assist a number of "first families. Approached by Ms Browning, Lady Miranda agreed to commemorate Frances Burnett’s work of a century ago, by allowing her to complete a private biography on the latest member of the family.
"The Gilded Cage" is a carefully researched work on the events and people, which lead to Hilarie Richmond, an American teenage boy becoming the latest member of this aristocratic family. We follow the reluctant recipient as his aunt, the Countess of Dorincourt, introduces him to the discipline, manners, and clothing that his new role demands. Hilarie enters a world filled with dominant women, petticoat power, feminised men, strange customs, and elegant clothes.
BOOK ONE
Chapter One
It had been a dreadful period for Emily. No sooner had she finished grieving for her husband Albert than she lost control of her son, Hilarie. No matter how hard she tried to make their relationship work, Hilarie patently ignored her. Hilarie was eighteen, but for the notice he took of her, he might have been forty. The rebellion had begun four years ago. Up till that time he had been quite a sweet child. Now he was fat, sullen and had developed an evil temper. His last incident was the final straw, Emily knew she had put everything off too long. Now she had to act.
Some of his behaviour seemed to come from his name. He’d been called after a very generous uncle, Hillston Bryce. He’d insisted that his name should not be exactly the same, and they’d used the closest on to it, Hilary. During registration an accident had occurred, instead of the name finishing with a ry it had become rie, the female version. This had not seemed to disturb him unduly until four years ago, and then suddenly he’d insisted he no longer be addressed by a girl’s name. He’d insisted on being called Hank and adopting a very macho attitude.
Emily thought longingly of the early years when she’d been able to care for him with so much love. Initially she’d been rather upset in having a boy. She’d so longed for a little girl. A touch of guilt passed quickly through Emily’s mind, could her attitude too that been responsible for some of his behaviour today. No that’s impossible she thought how on earth would Hilarie have any recollection of how I treated him in the early years. He had looked so nice with his long blonde hair in curls and ringlets. She hadn’t really meant to keep him in the dresses so long but he had looked so sweet in them, but the years had just gone by without her noticing.
Frances Hodgson Burnett had influenced Emily; she’d simply loved her stories. Particularly the semi-fictional biography she’d completed on her ancestor, Little Lord Fauntleroy. She rarely mentioned her relationship to the Fauntleroy’s; because the son of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s hero, her first cousin been such a dreadful person. He had married her late husband’s younger sister, but his treatment of her had been so horrible she had wanted no further contact with him. Following his death and since her sister-in-law became Dowager Countess of Dorincourt; Emily had kept an extensive file of her activities and was thrilled when she found snippets of gossip about her. All the events were faithfully kept in her diary, but the entries kept secretly from everyone, as they had been since she began recording her thoughts as a teenager.
Surely it hadn’t hurt Hilarie to be dressed like the original "Little Lord Fauntleroy" for a time. She’d only dressed him in that fashion for a few years until Albert insisted she take him out of dresses He’d been seven then. He’d looked really pretty, and the older women had made such a fuss of the little darling every time she took him out to visit her friends. After that she’d dressed him in little velvet "Fauntleroy" suits with a lace collar and lovely satin blouses.
They had been wealthy enough to afford a tutor so it had been unnecessary to send Hilarie to school. Most of the tutors had been women, who had also made such a fuss of the "sweet little darling". There had been two male tutors as well; they’d been such gentlemen. There had been trouble with them. "Nothing you’d want to be bothered about Emily my sweet" her husband had kept insisting. But both tutors had left very suddenly, looking white and shaken after a talk with her husband.
Following the removal of the second male tutor Albert had become quite adamant that Hilarie be dressed in proper boys clothing and have his hair be cut. Strangely it had been Hilarie who became upset about the change. He’d fought and screamed as they removed his golden locks, and it was several weeks before he’d accepted his new clothes, then suddenly he seemed happy that it had happened. Surely these little things couldn’t have caused this terrible behaviour she mused. After all he was only ten at the time, and surely he wouldn’t have remembered all this.
His behaviour had progressively deteriorated following the death of his father, Albert. Though even he had been having problem in the last years and had used bribes, in an attempt to make him behave. It was six months since Albert’s death, a heart attack, "caused by Hilarie’s behaviour" her friend Rose Parker maintained. Her son’s moods had become progressively violent. Despite a month having passed, Emily still remembered how frightened she had been with the last incident when Hilarie had punched her companion and friend Rose Parker. The punch had landed on Mrs Parker’s most sensitive area, her rather prominent beaklike nose. Emily had persuaded her to return after paying the extensive medical bills. They sat at peace sipping Earl Grey tea with lemon, as Emily sobbed she could no longer cope with Hilarie. There had to be some way of bringing him under control.
At the moment the household was at peace because the boy was away at summer camp. Emily had a fantasy that he would return home a changed boy. But already she knew it to be a dream, the camp supervisor had already rung to say he would have to be returned home, because of the disruption he caused. Only after Emily had begged them to accept another payment equal to three times the original fee had they agree he could stay.
Rose Parker was feeling very angry. The pain had disappeared but the humiliation she had gone through rankled. Apart from the Hilarie incident, the last two years had not been happy ones. The role of acting as a paid companion to the mouse like Emily particularly upset her. Only a short time ago she had been the social lion, with the best of society paying court to her. Although Emily had been far, far, wealthier, she and Albert had never been a glamorous couple. Emily had treated Rose as a Princess, always wanting to have afternoon tea while she had hung on every word about her friend’s exploits in society. Rose Parker had always found Emily’s company rather tedious, but being able to boast about her deeds to such an adoring audience compensated for this.
She had become a very bitter woman following the death of her husband, and the realisation that his gambling had made a pauper of her. The fact that she was then forced to take the position with Emily really galled her. Now Emily Richmond was the sought after one, not for her personality but for the fortune she and her rather odd husband had accumulated. It was so unfair. Hilarie had not been responsible for her misfortune but he was the only one on whom she could have some revenge and after what he had done she was determined the terrible boy would suffer.
"Well Emily maybe there is a solution. When I was in hospital a Madame Edwina Simpson-Dupree from Washington was having a minor operation. We got talking and I explained what happened to me." At that moment Emily burst into tears,
"Oh I’m sorry Rose but I feel so ashamed that other people know I was responsible for what you had to go through."
"There, there, Emily it wasn’t your fault. Now where was I? Oh yes Miss Simpson-Dupree, she was the half sister to the one who married the King of England in the thirties. Remember the terrible scandal and he had to abdicate to become the Duke of Windsor and she the Duchess. Of course Miss Simpson-Dupree is much younger, well they had a family embarrassment, a nephew that did something really dreadful. I’m not clear on the details, but the incident was so serious she would have found it impossible to have him in her household as he was. So she had him tamed. After that she said he had lost all his animal traits and is such a lovely boy to work with."
"Tamed, I’m not sure what you mean." Said Emily.
"I’m not quite sure what was meant, either Emily. But she assured me it works and that’s all that matters at the moment. It took a lot of persuasion to tell who does the training and she only told me because we know some of the same people. The strange thing about it, is the person responsible; its Lady Miranda Fauntleroy! Emily I’m right aren’t I? She is your sister-in-law."
"Miranda, you’re sure it’s her."
"I’m sure Emily, Edwina was quite explicit and I’m sure you should contact her."
Emily had reservations about Rose’s suggestion. It would mean opening up wounds that had still not properly healed. Emily still felt extremely guilty in failing to stop Albert making Miranda marry Lord Fauntleroy. However maybe that was now in the past and Miranda may have forgiven the evil act. She desperately needed help and she hoped blood would prove thicker than water. The supposition proved correct. Emily wrote to her sister-in-law, briefly explaining her problem. She was pleasantly surprised to receive a note two days later asking whether Miranda could call upon her during the following week.
Chapter Two
Lady Miranda Fauntleroy arrived two days later, saying she was delighted to be able to assist her only relative. She kissed her sister-in-law, and greeted Rose Parker and asked them both to dispense with any formalities and call her Miranda. The three met for lunch. Seeing them together the difference between the two was almost enough to unnerve Rose. The fragile Emily, looking ten years older than her age of fifty-five, appeared to have absolutely nothing in common with the vibrant aristocrat. It was hard to determine Lady Miranda’s age but she looked no more than twenty-five.
Strikingly beautiful, she stood over six feet in her high spike heels. Her body was taut. With broadish shoulders, high firm breasts and a tiny waist which made her hips appear far broader than they were. Her face beneath the glossy mane of copper tinted auburn hair was sensuously beautiful. Milk white skin complimented by generous blood red lips. Her dark green eyes beneath the slightly hooded lips had the slightest hint of cruelty. Lady Miranda was obviously not a person to trifle with. Rose could feel a sense of power emanating from her. She was certain that Lady Miranda Fauntleroy would rarely fail to impose her will on other people.
Her clothing was understated but very expensive. The elegant dark green velvet of the superbly cut suit fell in soft, rich folds. The tailored jacket intricately embroidered, and beneath it, a white silk blouses. A softly draped skirt hinted of a taut well cared for body and Miranda’s slim ankles and rounded calves were moulded into glossy black patent leather boots with high four-inch stiletto heels.
Emily outlined her problem and Miranda did little else than listen. When asked about the clinic, she said it had proved very successful for boys who had behaviour patterns similar to Hilarie. Lady Fauntleroy told them she had always been interested in psychology and had eventually obtained a doctorate in behavioural sciences. Some time ago she had begun using her knowledge to assist some members of the aristocracy to discretely treat their disturbed children.
So successful had the treatment been, that she had been entreated to establish a number of clinics to further the treatment. The establishments were extremely discreet; they were never advertised, and a patient was only accepted after the most thorough investigation. Emily asked Miranda whether she’d heard of them. Lady Miranda smiled and said it was unlikely they had been established in memory to her former husband. The clinics were now international and all came under The Fauntleroy Androgyne Foundation, of which Lady Miranda was Chairperson.
Emily looked puzzled at the name.
"Androgyne, does that mean what I think it does Miranda?"
Again the enigmatic smile appeared upon her sister in law’s face.
"I suspect it does Emily, yes it is a strange title but I do think it covers our purpose. We don’t want our uncontrollable boys, and in some cases, girls to completely change. We’d like them to absorb the best characteristics of there opposite sex. Hence the title, mentally at least our pupils become part hermaphroditic. Physically too, our boys tend to become rather prettier, but only in the most extreme circumstances is a sex change carried out."
At this stage Emily became rather alarmed, she did not want Hilarie turned into a girl. She thought that would be most unfair to him. It was at this point that Rose interrupted.
"I’m sure Lady Miranda was not suggesting that this would occur to Hilarie" she said, "and really Emily what else can we do we’ve exhausted every other possibility."
Rose fetched a number of photographs of Hilarie. She couldn’t help noticing Miranda wince as she looked at the plump roughly dressed unprepossessing boy.
"Well it will certainly be a challenge," she said with a rather rueful laugh. Despite his appearance Lady Miranda felt Hilarie would be a suitable subject. However, as Hilarie was a close relative, rather than sending him to one of her clinics; she would take personal charge of him. Providing of course Emily was agreeable.
Emily was ready to agree to any proposal.
"Oh yes please Miranda, if you don’t take charge I’m not sure what too do."
Lady Miranda looked at the tiny frail figure before her, and said,
"Of course she would help."
If Emily had the capability to read her sister-in-law’s mind and the thoughts running through it she would have been very surprised. A great deal of time and money had been used to achieve this point. The confidential agents that she had employed had only found out by accident that Miss Parker was about to enter hospital to have her nose repaired. Then had come the process of getting Miss Simpson-Dupree into a room alongside her and then the discussions with her about Hilarie.
The revenge she had plotted had appeared so sweet at the time. But now talking with Emily and understanding her so obvious good intentions the flavour felt somewhat sour. It was too late to inflict this upon the person who had been responsible for causing all the pain and suffering to her more than eighteen years ago. However Hilarie was as close as she could get to him. By all the accounts she had heard, he deserved what was to happen to him. Rather guiltily she thought back to that fateful night all those years before and how Emily had acted to saved her sanity. Now she had a chance to repay the debt she owed to Emily. However life was never quite as just as it should be, and with Emily’s health the way it was, she would probably never know what fate had been destined for her son.
Standing before her, Miranda wanted somehow to thank Emily, but some intuitive thought made her stop. If poor Emily remembered what had happened between them, then well and good, but if she didn’t, well maybe it was best she said nothing. Emily had said that night she would never forgive her husband for what he was about to do to Miranda and there was little in her power she could do. But what she had done, was an act that Miranda would never forget. It had been the ultimate in self-sacrifice and had saved Miranda’s sanity.
Miranda had not seen nor spoken to her since that fateful time so she had no idea if this had changed and it was best those memories lay dormant. For Miranda herself, the memory of what had happened to her was still crystal sharp in her mind, all the fault of her own brother’s greed and lack of concern for his family. Miranda had vowed then she would never forgive him and find some way of exacting revenge on him or his family. He had died before she had the chance to retaliate but now a way had opened.
The message from Emily seeking her help had been expected. It was not as though fate had decided to actively help her Miranda was working to a definite plan and she certainly did believe the old saying that the "sins of the Father should be visited upon the son". When the private investigator, had found out about Mrs Rose Parker’s operation, It had been simplicity itself to arrange for Madame Simpson-Dupree to make contact with her and open up the subject of taming naughty boys. It had been fortuitous that she had been about to have her annual face-lift at that time.
Lady Miranda asked to be alone with Emily for a period. Feeling a little miffed, Rose reluctantly agreed. Some hours later after bidding farewell to Rose, Lady Miranda left saying, she had left her proposal with Emily. Emily never fully explained what the two had talked about, but she did ask her to go over the proposal that arrived the following day. What Miranda insisted upon was complete and absolute control. Hilarie’s future would be totally in Miranda’s hands for the next six years. Until he reached his majority -his education, his money, and every facet of his life would under her guardianship.
"What should I do Rose dear?"
Complete and absolute control was Miranda’s plan. Without this she had explained to Rose the system would not work.
"It is harsh Emily, too harsh."
"I’m sure Miranda is only thinking of Hilarie’s welfare, but I can’t place his whole future in her hands for six years."
Emily reached out and took Rose’s hand in hers.
"I know my health is failing and I won’t be here for much longer."
She ignored her friend’s entreaties and continued.
"What I must ask you my dear is to act as Hilarie’s executor. Miranda has six months to begin his reformation. After that period you must see him and be satisfied that the ‘training’ is in his best interests. If it is not then he must be placed in a strict boarding school under yours and Miranda’s control until he is twenty one. I ask both of you to remain his keepers until he is twenty five. Please Rose will you do this for me?"
Reluctant as she was to involve herself with the odious boy, Rose Parker agreed to help Emily. Not only did she feel a degree of responsibility but also she knew Emily would be generous in the establishment of a trust for her guardianship.
It had taken Emily years to decide Hilarie’s fate, but now the decision had been taken she moved with almost unseemly haste. She telephoned Miranda detailing the changes and withstood the challenges presented by Lady Miranda. Within hours the document had been changed, notarised by an eminent lawyer and Hilarie’s fate was sealed. It was as though she could now rest complete. For two days later poor Emily’s heart just ceased working and she passed quietly away in her sleep.
Hilarie appeared unaffected by the loss of his mother. In fact he appeared happy to have Emily out of the way. From now on there would be no one to dampen his freedom. It was after Emily’s funeral that he first met his guardian to be, then learned of her role in his future. Hilarie went berserk he had recently adopted the language and accent of one of the English pop groups and he used it to the full extent. Throwing Emily’s cards and displays to the floor, screaming obscenities at all present, and kicking and punching anyone, who tried to calm him. His display of temper was what people remembered of Hilarie in the years to come.
Through it all Lady Miranda sat unperturbed and seemingly undisturbed. It was a masterly display of how confident one could be. After the mourners had departed Lady Miranda informed Hilarie that he would be returning with her to Philadelphia. This brought about another terrible tantrum from the boy, but it was to no avail. It was obvious Lady Miranda had foreseen likely difficulties and was accompanied by two of her staff. Though very feminine they were amazonian in build and proved well equipped to deal with an eighteen-year-old boy.
Shortly after the last mourner had departed, Hilarie was seized and tranquillised. Late in the evening a large limousine departed from Washington on the way to Lady Miranda Fauntleroy’s home in Philadelphia. Slumped in the back alongside his aunt was a sleeping boy.
Chapter Three
"Wake up Master Hilarie, come along Master Hilarie its time for breakfast"
Hilarie tried to open his eyes, but it was too difficult.
"Go away can’t; you see I’m trying to sleep"
The voice persisted. "You must get up Lady Miranda, is waiting on you"
"Well for a start you can tell her to piss off," said Hilarie "Now get out of here."
Still she insisted, her voice edged with anger. "Its time for you to get up." At last he opened his eyes and looked around. This was not his room; it was all pink and frilly.
"Where the hell am I? This isn’t my room!" Who the hell are you?" she looked vaguely familiar. The memory of last night’s struggle was coming back.
"You were one of them weren’t you? Where am I?"
"You’re in Lady Miranda Fauntleroy’s home in Philadelphia master Hilarie. Now please, your Aunt is waiting you must come immediately."
By now Hilarie was really annoyed.
"Who do you think you’re talking to, you silly cow, my names Hank and don’t you forget it."
The woman’s face reddened with anger, it was plain she was very annoyed.
"I’m Madame Hester, the housekeeper, now please come along."
It was obvious that Hilarie was not going to get anywhere, so screaming several obscenities about his aunt he climbed out of bed. He was immediately aware that he was not in his customary "Rambo" stretch pyjamas. Instead he was shocked to find he was wearing a soft white linen nightshirt, which felt very effeminate on his body. He demanded his jeans and tee shirt, but despite the direst threats he was forced to remain in the girlish garment. All Madame Hester would offer was a white cashmere robe the collars of which were faced with blue satin.
Hilarie’s Aunt awaited him in a sunny breakfast room. Looking cool and elegant in a white satin nightgown and negligee. Hilarie stormed in without greeting her and immediately began screaming at her demanding his clothing and return to his home.
Lady Miranda’s "please sit down Hilarie" was drowned as he began screaming at her.
"Shut up you stupid bitch my name’s Hank. Now get my gear."
Hilarie’s world was suddenly overturned. Seized from behind, his Aunt rose from her chair and slapped him so hard across the face that he would have fallen had he not been held.
"Now be quiet you little beast or I’ll beat you until you can’t stand."
Hilarie had never tasted discipline and was so stunned from the first blow that he even forgot to cry out. This had never happened to him before. He hit people; they did not hit him.
Early in his teens Hilarie had been larger than his contemporaries and liked inflicting pain. He had bullied his mother into receiving tai kendo lessons and other self-defence training. These techniques had been used to great effect on his contemporaries, and coupled with his frequent temper tantrums, he was a formidable opponent. In the last three years he had stopped growing, he had compensated by becoming even more aggressive and vicious.
Another of the staff, Peggy the chauffeur, had joined Hester. Like Hester, she had an amazonian build, and in their grasp Hilarie was quite helpless. He was thrust into a chair. While his Aunt, obviously annoyed told him what was about to happen to him. Tight-lipped she explained he would be tutored within the house and after his manners improved would be allowed to attend a nearby college.
It was his actions in the next few moments that changed the course of his life forever. Realising that he was no longer held tightly, he wriggled from the grasp of the two staff. Before they could react, he delivered a vicious kick to the stomach of his Aunt and with nightshirt and dressing gown flapping made a run for the door. He’d only gone twenty feet before Peggy caught him and threw him to the floor. This time she took no chances, and using his dressing gown cord tied his hands securely behind his back and then looped it over his feet. Hilarie was trussed as tightly as a chicken.
Peggy now ran quickly to her mistress, who lay retching on the floor. At last with the assistance of Hester and Peggy she managed to stand. Angrily shaking off the help of her staff, she advanced on Hilarie. She was so angry, her eyes blazed like two miniature suns in a face now bloodlessly white. She stood above him looking down.
"Because you are family. I wanted to spare you the PET training. Now you’ve left me no alternative."
Tied as he was Hilarie tried to spit in her face. It brought a wicked smile from Lady Miranda, almost evil in intensity as she said.
"Oh I’m going to enjoy this." She turned to Hester and said "for that last little episode put him in the hallway while you prepare his clothing."
She turned to Hilarie just as they were dragging him away.
"You’re to say to anyone who passes down the hall. I’m a naughty boy please forgive me!"
Hilarie found himself in a long hallway that ran the length of Lady Miranda’s mansion. To the side of it stood a strange looking wooden contraption. Holding him tightly, the two women untied his arms and quickly placed his neck and both wrists in a wooden yoke. Then they lowered the top section and imprisoned him.
Chapter Four.
Hilarie realised he was imprisoned in a set of old-fashioned stocks, his hands were fastened on each head side of his head and he could neither move forward nor back. The height was also uncomfortable; he was bent almost double, yet it was too high to kneel. Now he felt them adjusting his clothing at the rear. It felt as though they’d raised his nightshirt and dressing gown and exposed his bottom.
"What do you think you’re doing you sluts, now get me out of here." Shouted Hilarie who was now starting to feel afraid.
"Come now remember what you’re supposed to say. There it is, written on the notice opposite you."
Said Peggy her voice full of malice. Sure enough on the facing wall was a large notice saying.
MY NAME’S HILARIE AND I’M A NAUGHTY BOY. PLEASE FORGIVE ME.
"Go to hell" was Hilarie’s reply.
Next moment his world dissolved into pain, as he heard a swish and a course of living fire splashed across his buttocks. He jerked upward crashing his head hard against the stock. The pain was unbelievable but through his sizzling flesh he heard Madame Hester’s voice.
"Well Master Hilarie are you going to apologise.
His response was a "Go to hell"; though this time through gritted teeth.
He heard Madame Hester say.
"Oh well it’s your turn Peggy".
This time Peggy stood in front of him, in her hand she held a springy leather whip; she swished it several times in front of his eyes.
"Now Master Hilarie have you something to say."
Again he tried to spit in her face. She said not another word, but walked out of sight. He heard the whip swish several times, and then suddenly it struck again. It was worse. A scream burst from his lips as he jerked his body to and fro in agony. He waited for a second blow, but all he heard was.
"Let him think about it for a while", and the two women walked away.
It took another slash of the whip before a sobbing.
"My name’s Hilarie, and I’m a naughty boy. Please forgive me," Came from his lips. He had to repeat the phrase another four times before he was released from the stocks. He was a much-chastened boy, but this time no chances were taken. Metal fetters bound his hands behind his back as he was taken back to his bedroom.
Through eyes blurred with tears, he looked around the room. It now appeared even more frilly and feminine, than earlier. He realised it was more than a bedroom, for off it ran a bathroom, a separate dressing room and a massive walk-in wardrobe. In the centre of the room stood Lady Miranda and beside her a very attractive woman.
She did not appear to be as old as his aunt; she did not look a day older than twenty. Her hair was raven black and swept up into a pony tail bun high on the top of her head. She was dressed in a strange costume. It was a black satin dress with a short, full above the knee skirt supported by countless taffeta and lace petticoats that rustled silkily with every move. White satin gloves covered her hands and these also continued above her wrist. Shapely calves and slender ankles were covered by lustrous black silk stockings and her tiny feet were clad in very high stiletto heeled black glace kid court shoes.
Her face was perfectly made up and beneath high slender arched eyebrows, twinkled laughing dark eyes.
"Ah I see our prodigal son has returned," said Lady Miranda Fauntleroy.
The woman turned towards her and said.
"This is my charge? My Lady"
"Yes I’m afraid so Yvette, I do hope you can improve both his looks and his manners."
"Oh My Lady if his manners are as bad as his looks then, Mon dieu, he is au fond. Still I can but try."
Standing helplessly before his Aunt and being talked about as though he were not present was doing little to improve Hilarie’s temper. Then Lady Miranda turned to him and said.
"Hilarie! This is Miss Yvette, she is to be your personal maid."
"I don’t want no bloody maid and for the last time my name’s Hank, don’t call me by that stupid girl’s name. Now get me out of these clothes and take me home." He snarled at his Aunt.
Miss Yvette immediately reached out with a silk gloved hand and slapped him hard across the face twice
"NOW put him under the shower and make sure he’s perfectly clean, "she said.
Without a further word, Hilarie was bundled unceremoniously into the bathroom. His clothing were stripped from him and his whole body was coated with an astringent lotion. He had to stand naked for several minutes before being thrust under a steaming shower. As the lotion was rinsed from him all the hair on his body, which was very slight disappeared with it. Peggy worked with a sweet scented shampoo, washing the punk mouse colouring from his hair. Free of this it began to settle softly around his shoulders.
To his chagrin, Madame Hester and Peggy dried his body and dusted him with a feminine smelling talcum powder. Then clad only in a soft pink towel and held firmly on either side he was lead back into the bedroom. Miss Yvette stood by the bed, upon which were spread a series of silk and lace underclothing. Girls underclothing!! The towel was taken from him and he stood naked before the three women. Miss Yvette said
"Hilarie, will you behave."
"Go to hell you cows," he said.
His regret was immediate as the whip slashed across his naked buttocks. Two women seized an arm each and dragged him to a strange device in the corner of the room. His wrists were secured by pink silk ribbons to the bar of a trapeze like device. Then the bar was hauled upwards until he found himself standing on tiptoe. He realised he was quite helpless.
At once Lady Miranda joined them in the room; all he could do was stand secured to the bar. He was about to scream and shout, but the way Miss Yvette was fingering the whip stayed any sound. Miss Yvette delicately traced the fat puffing out his cheeks. She then traced his body down his chest, before seizing a roll of fat around his middle.
"He may be quite pretty beneath all these hamburgers and french fries. A good diet will get rid of this and all the pimples. His skin is quite beautiful and there are no acne scars at all. Look at this hair, under all the punk colouring, we’ve got a true platinum blonde."
Lady Miranda approached him, reached down and took hold of his member and gently squeezed it. Hilarie swallowed hard in fear. Realising that he was becoming hard and erect in her hand. She looked him straight in the eye and said.
"Well now quite a large one, isn’t it? And it works too. You must be very careful Hilarie. You wouldn’t be the first nasty little boy to loose his member. Now, I’ll leave Miss Yvette to finish the job. We want a nice quiet little baby to join us later."
Chapter Five
With that they left the room. From the bed Miss Yvette took a long white satin lace up corset.
"This is a mite old-fashioned" she said in her soft french accented voice. "But it’s just the thing to give you a nice shape"
"You can’t put that on me, they’re for girls." Said a horrified Hilarie struggling against his bonds.
"Stand still and be quiet." Said Miss Yvette moving towards the whip still displayed threateningly on the bed.
The garment was wrapped about his torso. He gasped as the hooks and eyes were fastened, it gripped his waist and body like a vice. Miss Yvette had him raise his left leg, and began to run a light blue silk stocking up his leg. Protesting brought a cutting slash across his by now very tender buttocks.
He made no more moves or sounds as she continued. The silk was strangely exciting as it moved across his smooth legs and a shiver went through his body as the second slithered upwards. By the time Miss Yvette had fastened the six suspenders, he could feel his member tightening and becoming erect. With the stockings holding the corset taut, Miss Yvette began tightening the laces. Hilarie gasped as he felt his ribs threaten to collapse. His protests gained him nothing. Her knee in his back as she completed her task was more than he could endure.
"Oh no, please no more." He cried.
"Just about there sissy boy"
By now all the fight had left him and he hung limply from the trapeze.
Miss Yvette lowered the trapeze and before releasing him fitted a glove to each hand. As she secured them tightly to his wrists with a white satin ribbon he realised he would not be able to do anything whilst wearing these. They were of blue satin and padded like a boxing glove. She led him to a low table. In the middle lay a large blue satin square, Miss Yvette made him lay down in the centre of it and lowering an overhead rail fastened his wrists to it.
"Open your legs" she commanded and fashioned the square into an adult size napkin.
He was aghast, "I won’t wear it, take it away"!
"Be quiet baby, we don’t want naughty babies carrying on and complaining." Said Miss Yvette, malice already evident in her eyes.
Hilarie was unbowed, "let me go I won’t wear it, let me go " he shouted struggling to release himself.
Miss Yvette disappeared for a moment and returned with a large nipple shaped pacifier. "Now open wide".
When he refused she held his nose until he gasped for breath, and with a quick thrust it was in his mouth, and secured with a blue ribbon around his head. He tried to scream but all that emerged was a babyish gurgle. Without any haste Miss Yvette completed the dressing. She delighted in explaining the function of each garment to her, now quiet charge. She pulled blue waterproof silk panties into position after demonstrating the wide elastic banding around the waist and leg openings.
Then blue satin booties were placed on his feet. Miss Yvette explained they would feel rather strange as they were designed to curl his toes just like the ancient Chinese foot binders. Then she released him, warning him that any resistance would mean punishment. Hilarie realised that for the present at least it was pointless to struggle. It was painful to stand and Miss Yvette allowed him to sit on the edge of the bench as she began to dress him. Over his head she drew a long white silk petticoat, the skirt and hemline lavishly trimmed with fine pointed lace. She smoothed it into position. The full skirt of the petticoat was overly long and the lace covering his feet in a puddle of foaming frothy frills.
Miss Yvette held before him a blue satin gown.
He tried to say "take it away I won’t wear it" but all that emerged from his mouth was a gurgle.
The dress was long and full, the bodice embroidered with elaborate smocking and from it flowed unpressed pleats. Along the bottom was a wide frill of white lace and tulle. A white lace "peter pan" collar fastened tightly about his neck, and the long full sleeves with white lace frills were buttoned tightly about his wrists. Over his head went a matching satin bonnet. It covered his whole head and buttoned beneath his chin. Attached to it was along hood-like peak. Which confined his vision to directly ahead.
Miss Yvette helped him to his feet, and lifting his skirts, helped across the room, standing him before a mirror. He was horrified with what he saw. Reflected back was the image of a large baby with his face. It was so mortifying to be dressed like this. He’d wanted to shout and scream and hit out at Miss Yvette for doing this to him. What made it worse, was that he could nothing.
Miss Yvette rang for Peggy. He was picked up in her arms and carried down the wide banisters to the lower floor. At the end of the hallway was a large sun-filled reception room. Lady Miranda now dressed in a pair of green silk culottes, was seated on a white velvet settee.
"Ah our little baby boy, at last. Has he been good?" She said.
"He started screaming again, my Lady so I used the pacifier." Said Miss Yvette. "Shall we put him in the corner?"
Peggy lowered Hilarie into an adult size toddler’s playpen. It was white and the type designed to be suitable for a year old child; attached to the bars were rattles and other toys. The best things about it were the walls; they were only about two feet high. Given the chance, thought Hilarie there will be no trouble escaping from this.
The floor was covered with white satin cushions and Peggy laid him down and began propping him up with them into a seated position. Then she and Lady Miranda left, leaving him alone in the room. After a few moments, Hilarie looked around; it was very difficult to see with the bonnet covering most of his face now he had to turn his whole head to see whether he was alone.
He struggled to his feet. It was very difficult with the silk petticoat and satin gown hampering his every movement. Once on them it was very difficult to stand with his toes cramped in the baby booties. Hilarie tried to step forward, immediately his foot stepped on the hem of the petticoat, almost tripping him up. He reached down to raise the gown, to find it was impossible to grasp anything with his mittens covering his hands, and certainly not anything as slippery as the satin of his gown.
No matter what he tried, crawling, bouncing along on his bottom on his bottom Hilarie could make no progress. Silk and satin trapped him. He sat down again, almost in the same place, where Peggy had originally left him. Almost at once Miss Yvette appeared.
"Its time for your lunch " she said.
Hilarie suddenly realised just how hungry he was, he’d had no breakfast, and the meal he’d had the day before had done little for him.
Miss Yvette bent down.
"Now Hilarie, I’m going to remove the pacifier. But if you start screaming and shouting I’ll put it straight back in and you will get nothing to eat. Do I make myself clear?"
Hilarie nodded his head.
"Now look what we’ve got"
She held a large silk babies bib before him. On it printed in white were "Baby Hilarie". Oh my god thought Hilarie, as it was tied about his neck, how long am I to be kept like this?
The food fed to him on a spoon was baby food, processed vegetables with meat. He felt so demeaned and helpless and wanted to spit the food in her face, but knew he’d only starve. Besides, despite the method of feeding, it really had quite a nice taste. Next came a very large bottle fitted with a teat. Hilarie was instructed to hold it in his mittens and drink from it. As he clumsily inserted the plastic teat into his mouth he realised he was too thirsty to argue.
The milk was pleasantly warm, with a taste that demanded more. Hilarie greedily completed the first, and asked Miss Yvette for a second. Somehow even this was not enough, and he greedily completed another large bottle. Too soon the feeding was complete and Hilarie was becoming bored. He couldn’t sleep, the pacifier was back in his mouth, and all he could do was lie there. Suddenly he was aware of the need to go to the toilet. The pressure on his bladder was enormous.
He looked around frantic for some help; once again he was alone. He shouted but only a gurgle emerged from his gagged mouth. He tried to contain himself, but it was too late, as warm urine jetted from him into the satin lined napkin. He seemed to go on and on forever, filling the napkin then overflowing into the silk waterproof panties. For one moment Hilarie felt such relief. The next moment it was replaced by cold fury at the indignity that had been forced upon him. He felt the warm wetness swishing about in the panties. It felt horrible
Chapter Six
Mercifully sleep came not long after, wiping out a few hours of what fate seemed to hold for him. Morning and the horrible feeling of cold wetness about his hips brought it all back. There was to be no escape, shortly after waking Miss Yvette arrived to change his clothing. It was more than cosmetic, and for this to be carried out Hilarie found be had to undergo even more indignity. In one corner of the nursery was a "change" table.
"All nursery’s have them for their little baby’s." Said Miss Yvette as she led the helpless Hilarie towards it.
Although the thought was far from Hilarie’s mind at that time the device was really quite ingenious. It was obvious that Hilarie was not the first rough boy the household had treated. For the change table had been designed to prevent the possibility of any escape, and prevent any "rough house" tactics from those whose were required to use it. Raising Hilarie’s gown and petticoats, Miss Yvette made him shuffle forward until he stood in front of the table. She pulled a lever and with a hiss the tabletop slid out and tipped until the padded top stood vertically against his back. A clamp fastened about each ankle. He stood helpless as Miss Yvette unfastened his gown and petticoats and drew them over his head.
She insisted he held his arms alongside his sides, then touched another button. Immediately two electrically operated manacles closed about his wrists. Miss Yvette pulled the lever and the tabletop swung smoothly from the vertical to the horizontal. He now lay helpless on his back as Miss Yvette removed the waterproof panties and sodden napkins. Using a large bowl of warm scented water she washed his body, drying him carefully she completed her task with highly perfumed oil. Her hand lingered in his genital area giving far more attention than he thought necessary and before Miss Yvette had finished he was very aware that he was tautly erect. Miss Yvette gave no sign of surprise as she said.
"Oh dear maybe I shouldn’t have done that my poor baby, as you’ll probably feel very uncomfortable later in the morning."
Hilarie’s body was now completely washed with each and every crevice was either powdered or oiled before Miss Yvette began to dress him. As he lay helplessly on his back, she drew white silk stockings up each leg. Then moving a button, Miss Yvette caused a clamp to fasten about each of his ankles. She touched another lever and the table moved from its horizontal position to the vertical, now Hilarie stood on the deeply carpeted floor, but his wrists, and ankles were still securely attached to the table clamps. Miss Yvette touched another button and the padded table moved away from his body.
Hilarie was now left standing in the middle of the floor completely naked except for the silk stockings. He was completely helpless, and could offer no resistance as Miss Yvette approached him with another firmly boned white satin corset. She fitted the device about his body. Starting at the top, Miss Yvette quickly fastened the dozen hooks and eyes on the front of the garment. Hilarie realised that the bottom of the garment was not of the same heavy material of the bodice. Miss Yvette explained that the corset was made of material that allowed it to become wet and it would not absorb any moisture. At that moment he realised that he was about to be subject to the same treatment he had undergone the previous night.
He stood before her quite helpless. He couldn’t go through it again it was just too humiliating. He must try to prevent it happening again, he knew threats would not succeed but maybe bribery.
"Miss Yvette, please help me escape, I’ll pay you a lot of money if you help me.
She turned to him, her face quite serious.
"I don’t think you should continue to try and bribe me Hilarie, it suggests that I might be disloyal to Lady Miranda. Now be quiet, otherwise I’ll be forced to gag you."
Hilarie realised that it was hopeless, if he continued he would have that dreadful "dummy" stuffed in his mouth again. Miss Yvette continued to tighten the corset. Whether he’d imagined it or not he could not be sure, but the maid appeared to give a vicious tug to gain an extra fraction of an inch. Within minutes he was gasping for breathe and in tears, begging that it be loosened.
It was all in vain, as Miss Yvette knotted the laces and pushed the button on the bed. With a hiss of air, the machine reversed itself and Hilarie found himself once more lying on his back. Miss Yvette asked him to raise his legs and buttocks whilst she fitted the satin lined napkin. At his refusal she manipulated another lever. To his humiliation he found the clamps holding his legs were attached to mechanical arms.
Again there was a hiss of air and suddenly his legs were hoisted high in the air, raising his buttocks above the table. He had to lie helpless as a baby, as the napkin was adjusted and fastened by a large gold safety pin. Then waterproof panties were drawn up his legs. As she did so Miss Yvette took great delight in showing him the wide elastic bands forming the waist and leg openings. Smiling sweetly, she assured Hilarie these would contain all the fluids within the panties.
This completed, she manipulated a further lever, and the tabletop assumed the horizontal position. Before Miss Yvette continued dressing him, she had to release his arms. His ankles would be still secured said Miss Yvette and if he tried to interfere in any way he would suffer the dire consequences.
The first garments were three frilly petticoats, cut in the "Princess" style they were of thin blue silk with white very fine lace on the hem. The first was smocked and fitted tightly at the chest before falling almost straight to the knee length hem. The others were attached to the bodice. Over these Miss Yvette drew a baby dress of light blue satin. It was cut in the same manner as the petticoats, with a tight bodice and a very full skirt.
Along the hemline frothed layer after layer of the finest white lace. Long full sleeves were finished in the same way and around the neck the very same lace was used lavishly. With the dress in place and fastened Miss Yvette placed padded mittens on his hands. Once buttoned in place on his wrists and he knew there was no chance of removing them on his own. The next items to be fitted were baby booties, and Miss Yvette assisted him onto the tabletop whilst she fitted them. They fitted tightly into place, and as she buttoned them Hilarie knew there was no possibility that he could remove them on his own.
About his head was fastened a blue silk bonnet. It was a return to the previous night, the tight constricting corset, napkin, and bonnet. Only this time for some reason he’d been dressed in a short frilly dress. At least he would be able to walk around. He wasn’t sure how he could manage to escape dressed in this manner but at least there might well be a chance.
That thought vanished immediately he was lowered to the floor. Standing on his feet was now a very painful experience. Some sort of block had been placed in the instep and any attempt to stand for any length of time was very difficult. Miss Yvette helped him across the floor to the playpen and placed him on his knees.
"There baby how does that feel. Now you have a good crawl around. Get some exercise then I’ll come back and feed you."
Again he was in a small wooden playpen. Within the enclosure were a half dozen satin cushions, a number of toys and cloth books. Again he tried to stand up, but it was just too painful. So he sat on the cushions and tried to settle his mind.
Chapter Seven
Hilarie just wanted to break down and weep; it was so mortifying to be confined here by a lot of women. Not only humiliating but terrifying. Two days ago he’d been a free agent and now he was dressed in baby clothes and forced to do everything he was told. He tried to see if he was alone in the room, it was so difficult to see wearing this stupid bonnet. In the end he had to turn his whole body on the cushions to check. As far as he could tell he was alone, not that this fact was much of help.
He looked at his silk mittens, they were padded, and while he wore them he was helpless. He lifted one to his mouth. Grasping the single button with his teeth, he wriggled it and suddenly it slipped out of the buttonhole. It was so easy, first he gripped the other end of the mitten pulling it free from his hand, and suddenly he was free. A minute’s work and both hands were free. By now Hilarie was frantic with haste as he fumbled with the ribbon to the bonnet. Instead of loosening it he succeeded in securely knotting it and there seemed nothing he could do would free it.
Leaving it in place, he removed the crippling baby booties and they joined the mittens on the floor of the playpen. Elated he could stand; Hilarie quickly scrambled from his confinement. He looked around, feeling very strange in his silk dress and petticoats. He really didn’t know what to do next, but if he could get out of the house then at least he was on the road to freedom.
He ran to the nursery door, the silk petticoats rustling sibilantly against the silk stockings. The satin dress swishing and swaying against him with every movement. He wanted to tear the sissy clothing from him, but being naked would be even harder to explain. When he got outside, he’d say he’d been to a fancy dress party.
Hilarie carefully opened the door. The way was clear. He ran down the passage, to the next corner. Ahead was the staircase. Moving quickly was difficult in a dress and petticoats, the fine silk kept flying up with every movement, and he was certain every one would hear the rustle of satin. His movements were awkward, the bulky satin napkin turning his run into an ungainly waddle. Still anything was better than being confined in the nursery.
Hilarie was glad it was down the stairs, even now he was feeling light headed from lack of oxygen. The tight confining corset would not allow him to draw a deep breath. Suddenly he thought he heard a noise behind him, he tried to glance over his shoulder but because of the bonnet he had to turn his face backwards. No, no one there. Too late he missed his footing on the last stair and fell sprawling.
He tried to scramble to his feet but was suddenly aware of a silk stockinged leg just within his vision. Fearfully he raised his head and peering from beneath the bonnet hood he saw Lady Miranda looking angrily down at him. Before he could move she raised her foot and placed it heavily on his neck, it was impossible for Hilarie to move and further escape was impossible.
Within minutes a rather chastened Miss Yvette, removed him rather sheepishly from beneath Lady Miranda’s foot.
"I hope you have better luck this time, Yvette. I thought you’d be able to keep control of this sissy especially when he’s dressed as a baby." Said Lady Miranda rather tartly.
Miss Yvette blushed bright red and promised that it would not happen again.
Back in the nursery the ribboned mittens were exchanged for buttoned ones, and these had tiny padlocks fastening the buttons together. This time it would be impossible to remove them. What followed was a strange experience. Spurred on by having been made to look foolish in front of her mistress, Miss Yvette allowed Hilarie little rest.
A series of alarms and small gadgets that made a rather raucous noise and these were scattered throughout the nursery. At odd intervals the alarms would sound, and when this occurred Hilarie had to find the particular device and turn it off. They were at opposite ends of the nursery and no sooner had he switched one off than the other would start screeching.
Soon his knees were sore from constantly crawling across the carpet from one end of the nursery to the other. Even trying to rest on the cushions was difficult if he tried to lie down the bonnet made him look directly at the floor. Sitting up made the corset squeeze his waist unbearably, but it was the better of two uncomfortable options. During his rest periods, which were far shorter than he wished he had to undergo a further torment. Each morning he was given some "tiny tot" books, four in all, each with little stories printed on cloth pages like those tiny tots read. After the first day Miss Yvette informed him that each day he must read and completely memorise word for word all the stories within. Each time he wished some attention, to be changed after wetting his napkin, or if he wished for a drink or some food he must pass a test.
All the stories in all the books had to be word perfect. Miss Yvette would pick up any one of the books and ask Hilarie to recite it to her. The first time he did not take it terribly seriously and on his first test he failed completely. The dinner he was about to eat was taken away from him and he was not allowed to partake at all that night. His napkin was not changed and by next morning it was wet and swilling and he felt absolutely terrible.
The next day he began to study the books in earnest and by the time Miss Yvette arrived in the morning he could remember every word, as well as all the punctuation. Because the stories were not very interesting the task of learning was difficult. The time Hilarie spent in the nursery was the most uncomfortable period in his life. Each day brought a new form of torture. The silk dresses and satin panties felt so cool and sensuous on there own but when worn with the corset and napkin the continual confinement sapped at his resistance. All the determination he had been determined to maintain was being completely demolished.
A week passed in the same terrible way before he could convince his Aunt he would be good. Gone was the defiance and aggression he had been determined to maintain. It had only taken a few short days to realise there been no possibility of escaping. By the end of the week he would have agreed to any indignity to be freed from the nursery. The thought of remaining any longer in these confines sent shivers of fear down his spine.
The release was not a return to boyhood, far from it. There was no escape from confinement, only this time there was a greater subtly used. At last he was allowed to talk and move, but the realisation that he was totally controlled by his Aunt and her household became a reality. No longer the master of his own destiny, his mind turned constantly to how was he to escape, how could remove himself from this predicament. Never had he come across a situation in which he had so lost control of his life. During his schooling, at home, and in the various camps he had always managed to seize the opportunity, which would suit his own ends. He had no doubt that if could escape these walls, a good lawyer would soon return to him his estates and inheritance.
Over the next weeks he obeyed his captors implicitly trying to lull them into a false sense of security. Leaving the house would probably be difficult, but he was not locked in his room, there were no guards and as far as he was aware no one was watching him. However the great difficulty lay in his clothes, and the effect they were having on his will.
Chapter Eight
He had been freed from the baby wear. Not that the change was much better, he was now forced to wear infant wear without a napkin. Instead there were waterproof satin panties with a small absorbent pad within. Over them were frilly dresses designed for girls’ aged two or three, complete with masses of frothy petticoats and a baby bonnet. Beneath all the frills and flounces was an excruciatingly tight and rigid corset. It pressed into him from all angles, forming a complete physical and mental control. It restricted his breathing and he felt it was slowly crushing his body with relentless pressure. In addition there were other means of constant constriction. This covered his whole body, with the silk stocking drawing tautly on his legs. The six suspenders exerted not so gentle pressure every time he moved. Over his feet the sleek kid children’s style "Mary Jane" shoes (with very adult four inch high heels) were vice like about his instep and toes. The heels also thrusting his pelvis forward, the unnatural stance causing agonising cramps in his calves.
Sitting was even more difficult. Hilarie’s problem was similar to those experienced by Victorian women with their crinoline skirts. No matter how carefully the skirts and petticoat were positioned they were so voluminous, that it was a trial sitting in the narrow chairs he been provided with. For no matter whatever position he chose the skirts bunched up and threatened too completely envelope him.
The gloves he wore were tight upon his hands and arms. He could feel little through the thin leather and the glace kid gloves that reached above his wrists. The leather was thin, almost transparent, but very slippery. Making it impossible to pick up or grasp any but the largest objects. What he looked like he had no idea, since he had began his punishment; he had not been allowed to use a mirror. Removing any clothing was completely out of the question as well. Either the buttons or fastenings were so positioned that he could not reach them or they were fastened too tightly. At least too tightly for his leather encased hands.
The bonnet was a torment. He had never considered how difficult a bonnet could be to wear. The padded satin one he wore completely restricted his vision and made hearing very difficult. If he wanted to see anything he was forced to turn his whole body. Despite all the pain and fatigue he felt from physical restriction. They paled into insignificance with the mental anguish inflicted upon him. To be a boy and have to wear girls clothing was awful enough, but to be completely controlled by the frills and flounces was more than he could stand.
He could not carry out any of his bodily function upon his own. It was impossible to undo the fastening on his satin bloomers. Even if he could have, it would still have been impossible to manoeuvre the voluminous dress and petticoats to use the toilet. Instead he had the choice of two indignities. He could urinate into his bloomers. Then sit wet and humiliated until Miss Yvette deigned to visit him in the room. Or he could ring and ask her to assist him. Which in many ways was even more humiliating. For this he realised he was himself to blame. Hilarie had been rude and demanding when he had first been released from the baby wear. Now each time he rang the bell for attention, he had to assume the punishment position and remain in that posture until she arrived and ascertained that it was a valid request. That meant he had to bend over, raise his skirts and petticoats over his head, and remain with his hands grasped about his ankles. Leaving his satin covered bottom facing the door until Miss Yvette released him from the position.
If there was one thing Hilarie hated more than anything else it was the exercise room. It was the only time he was without the restricting garments, the corsets, high-heeled shoes, and the tight confining full length gloves. At first it had seemed heaven to be free. The feeling lasted only a few minutes, till Miss Yvette placed him on the various exercise machines. After that his time in the room began to resemble a period in hell.
During the exercise period he always wore a light blue silk tracksuit. It began looking crisp and clean, but within minutes it was soaked with Hilarie’s perspiration. Under the eagle eye of Peggy he had to spend a few minutes warming up, with stretches and bends. At the first session he had refused to carry out her directions. Peggy had immediately sent for Madame Hester and Miss Yvette. His arms were seized and Hilarie was stretched over the vaulting horse housed in a corner of the gym.
Madame Hester applied the supple birch she carried in her right hand across Hilarie’s buttocks three times. The thin silk of the tracksuit offered absolutely no protection and the pain raced through his whole body. After that he was not prepared to argue or disagree. The workouts were strenuous, particularly to a boy that had ignored fitness for so long. He had spent some time learning Karate and was a surprisingly proficient user of it. However the training of his body had not been included and he was hopelessly out of condition.
The treadmill or running track was his nemesis. He hated the time he spent jogging on the endlessly turning belt. Although he knew each session lasted only about twenty minutes. Hilarie was completely exhausted by the time he was showered, perfumed, and once more garbed in silk and satin.
Hilarie’s greatest problem was lust; it was flooding his mind day and night. It was extraordinary, for until he had been abducted and forcibly brought to his aunt’s home had never been conscious of his sexual needs. Like most boys he had experimented with masturbation, but he didn’t find it particularly enjoyable and his sex drive was too low for it to be important. Since his captivity however everything seemed to have changed. It was probably the combination of good food, the loss of weight, the enforced exercise, and the sensual confinement.
Now it seemed the area where his two legs joined was the most important part of his body. At night over the last two weeks he began having the most exhausting wet dreams. The evidence of his releases was clear each morning in the sticky satin napkin removed by a contemptuous Miss Yvette. Her sneering remarks pointing out his lack of control. Despite this and the exhaustion the emissions brought him it was not enough. During the day the ache was omnipresent and he longed for release by any means, but the tight corset, voluminous napkins and petticoats made it impossible.
Chapter Nine
This morning there seemed a slight change. Smiling Miss Yvette had woken him smiling and saying Lady Miranda would see him later in the morning. Removing his napkin she still wrinkled her nose distastefully at his night time emission, but there was no acerbic comment to further humiliate him. He went through his usual routine of bathing and returned once more to the bedroom.
He was strapped to the trapeze bar and Miss Yvette began to fit a corset to him. It was quite different to the first one he’d worn. It looked to be of thin silk-satin and was basque fronted with even greater adjustment than the one worn yesterday. This was hand embroidered with delicate lace but he could see the curved bones built into it that would hold him in a vice like grip. This, the pretty maid told him would be the type he would wear in the future. It was constructed of space age materials and although it looked delicate it was far stronger than the heavy satin he had just quit.
Hilarie gasped as the basque was fastened down the front of his body.
"Oh please Miss Yvette, no more. I can’t breathe" he pleaded.
"Be quiet you little milksop, the lacing hasn’t started yet." Said Miss Yvette.
Without further ado she began tightening the back lacing. It was a frightening experience, a feeling he was being crushed alive.
At last she stopped, "there’s still two inches to go, but on the first occasion this will be enough".
Hilarie remained fastened to the bar. Then at her insistence he lifted first his left, then his right leg. Allowing Miss Yvette to smooth white silk stockings upwards, until they met the six taut suspenders attached to the bottom of the corset.
"Now Cherie, a surprise, no more napkin!" said the pretty maid.
Up his legs were drawn a pair of white silk long panties. Pettipanties as Miss Yvette called them, they buttoned at the side and were very full in the leg. Several layers of long lace frills hemmed the legs, this reaching past his calves almost to his ankles. The pettipanties finished six inches below his knee.
The touch of silk passing over the stockings sent a strange feeling coursing through his body and knew that once more he was having an erection.
"Ah mon. Cherie, you like the feel of the panties oui!"
Miss Yvette gently fingered him through the silk. Stroking him and said contemptuously.
"Well the little sissy who says he hates to dress as a girl, is contradicting himself".
Despite his feeling of helplessness the most marvellous sensations were now flowing through his body. Sensing what was about to happen he tried to draw away from her, it was impossible. Then gasping involuntarily Hilarie shuddered into an orgasm, his seminal fluid gushing forth to form a dark sticky patch on the snowy white silk.
A look of contempt darkened her pretty face as Miss Yvette removed the soiled pettipanties and washed Hilarie’s now drooping member. She began the exercise again, this time without incident. At last the trapeze bar was lowered. To his horror this only increased the pressure of the corset upon his ribs. He began to moan in agony, certain that the corset would cut him in two.
Miss Yvette ordered him to be quiet. With the memory of his stinging buttocks only too fresh, he obeyed instantly. He stood still as she slipped a taffeta and lace petticoat over his head. The silken garment rustled as it slithered down his body, the hem coming to rest just above his knee. She smoothed the dress into position, the slithery touch beginning another stirring of excitement deep within him.
Miss Yvette held before him, the dress he was wear. It was not as bad as those he’d been forced into. This was a dress a girl of five or six would wear. Of white silk organza, the pin-tucked bodice was trimmed with a pink satin ruffled neck. The same satin trimmed the elbow length puffed sleeves. A satin belt about his hips formed a dropped waist and below it was the knee length pleated skirt.
Onto his feet Miss Yvette fastened white glace kid "Mary Jane" shoes. They strapped across the instep and had four inch Louis heels. Miss Yvette tried to add a light pink lipstick, his efforts to avoid it, brought a stinging lash across his silk stockinged legs. Because of that he accepted the touch of blusher to his high cheekbones. Then a dab of blue highlighter was added to his eyelids.
He had to stand still as Miss Yvette fastened a ribbon in his hair and adjusted his skirt and petticoat. Then she stooped again and tugged the frills of his pettipanties into a lower position. Then Miss Yvette handed him a Pierrot doll dressed in a dress, which matched Hilarie’s.
"You must carry this at all times." She said putting one of its arms into Hilarie’s hand. "Now little girlie-boy, its time to see how you look. " She said as she led the reluctant boy to a large mirror.
Hilarie was filled with trepidation, frightened to see what they had done to him. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight in the mirror. There stood a pretty young girl of five or six in a party dress. The dress exposing the lace trimmed petticoats and the many layered frills of the pettipanties. However the hand that held the satin doll gave the game away, it was too grown-up to be a child’s. The long bodice did nothing to hide the too slender waist and the silk stockinged legs emerging from the lace frills of the pettipanties were those of a young lady in her teens.
The image could be a teen-aged girl undergoing the dreaded enfanting punishment of being dressed as a young child. Indeed there was absolutely no indication that it was a boy. On the contrary the face looked to be very much that of a girl. The eyelashes were surprisingly long, full rosebud lips had now appeared beneath the lipstick and the retrousse nose was too delicate for any male. His eyes reflecting back were a startling cornflower blue, they undefinably beautiful. The pupil so wide and shining it gave a sense of vulnerability. His hair now free of the bonnet was revealed in all its shining platinum glory.
"Come along Hilarie, now we can show Lady Miranda and her visitor what a pretty little nephew she has." Said Miss Yvette.
"Oh no please Miss Yvette don’t make. I don’t want them to see me like this. Please you must not make me go."
Her reply was to reach for the whip. Without a word the terrified boy walked forward to see his Aunt.
Chapter Ten
Hilarie’s worst fears were realised when he walked into the room. There sitting with her, was someone he’d hoped he would never see again. Oh how humiliated he felt when he came face to face with Mrs Rose Parker.
The malicious smile on her face vanished to be replaced with one of utter astonishment, as she turned to Lady Miranda.
"Surely this is not Hilarie, My Lady".
"I assure you it is Mrs Parker, but I am almost as surprised as you are, he does look rather lovely."
For a moment Hilarie had a chance to look around. Mrs Rose (Nosey) Parker as Hilarie had insisted on calling her, was looking very elegant. Dressed in a light blue silk dress, her hair perfectly coiffured, she was quite different to the woman he had taunted only weeks before. About her neck she was fastening a white satin scarf, it was decorated with a silver winged cupid enclosed in an outline of a heart. A tiny chain bound one ankle to the heart.
She was saying "Thank you Lady Miranda, for this I will treasure this always"!
As she turned towards Hilarie her attitude changed markedly, there was no warmth in either her voice or eyes. Mrs Parker might look different, but it was obvious her dislike for Hilarie had not changed.
Lady Miranda rose from her chair. She was dressed in a beautiful trouser suit of royal blue satin.
"My my! Hilarie how sweet you look. Yvette has quite outdone herself; I certainly never expected anything like this. Now I want you to show Miss Parker just how girlish you’ve become, now turn, and spin your skirt out. Oh! No not like that, do it quickly. Yvette, take his hand and show him!"
Pink faced with humiliation, Hilarie turned again and again. His skirt and petticoats swirling out rising above his hips exposing the frilled pettipanties up to his hips.
"Come, sit between us". Said Lady Miranda. "Now Mrs Parker, may I call you Rose?"
Rose Parker positively simpered "Of course My Lady, of course you may".
"Oh come Rose, call me Miranda!" she said. "Now what do you think of your ward."
"Unbelievable My Lady, I mean Miranda. I wouldn’t have recognised him, really there has been such a change."
Rose Parker looked at the terrified boy in front of her. She was overwhelmed at the changes that had occurred. The last time she had seen him was at his mother’s funeral, where despite the solemn occasion his behaviour had been atrocious. His clothing had been absolutely disgraceful, dirty and torn jeans and an obscenely worded tee shirt. He had strutted about the gathering insulting all those present with foul language and rude gestures. Mrs Parker had been a particular object of attention. She’d been attacked for living on his mother’s money and he’d made it quite clear that she wouldn’t continue living on what he considered was now rightfully his. She’d seen Lady Miranda’s servants deal with him at the end of the evening, and felt absolutely no remorse when they drugged him and had taken him away in her limousine.
Now at the prompting of the maid Miss Yvette, he had called her, the boy/girl in front of her smiled. A very forced one, one given with little grace. One that Rose Parker could see in Hilarie’s eyes said.
"I absolutely hate giving you this nice smile, but if I don’t I’ll be severely punished."
She looked into the cornflower blue eyes. It was clear they were full of malevolence.
"Oh " Miss Parker thought gleefully what humiliation he must be suffering having to appear before me like this."
Hilarie kept his eyes cast down, to avoid meeting her eyes, it was obvious that he hated this experience. Rose Parker felt a series of new sensations pass through her body. They were quite new and felt very pleasant. They had only begun happening in the past few minutes. She knew they were from a feeling of power, it was so strong, almost orgasmic. To have this odious boy before her, trembling, ready to obey her every whim was overwhelming. Only a few weeks ago, to have him this close to her would have made her nervous enough to suffer heart palpitations. She would wait, terrified and trembling, expecting Hilarie to explode into one of his frequent and terrible tantrums.
The change in circumstances made her quite heady. She felt quite intoxicated with her power. Rose Parker could not resist testing her authority.
"Hilarie you look so pretty today, do you like your new dress?"
The boy would not raise his eyes to meet hers. They remained cast down, at the floor. Rose Parker was not about to be ignored, this time her voice had more snap in it as she asked
"Hilarie, did you hear what I said".
On the other side of Hilarie Madame Hester stood and the springy whip she held in her right hand, and slapped it against crisply against the palm of her left hand. At once Hilarie’s face turned pale. He immediately looked fearfully at Rose Parker and in a quavering voice said.
"No I don’t."
At once Madame Hester swished the whip again and said.
"Hilarie that is not the way to speak to Mrs Parker. Now curtesy to her and answer in a proper manner".
Hilarie did not even hesitate; at once he managed a passable if somewhat clumsy curtesy and dropping his eyes said.
"I’m sorry Miss Parker I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m sorry Miss Parker but I don’t like my dress."
Knowing that the boy was completely in her power sent an exquisite sensation flooding through Rose Parker. It was physically strong enough to make her squeeze her thighs together as she continued.
"Really Hilarie, you don’t like your beautiful dress why ever not?"
His upper lip began to tremble, a sure sign that he was about to have another tantrum. A tremor went through Rose Parker as for a moment she wondered whether she had gone too far. Another twitch from Madame Hester’s right hand produced a completely docile Hilarie. The hatred was alive in his eyes as he dutifully said.
"No Mrs Parker. I’d rather be dressed in proper boys clothes."
By now Miss Parker was really enjoying herself. It was such fun teasing the horrible boy particularly when he could nothing to defend himself.
"Oh Hilarie you’re being quite foolish, why you don’t look the slightest bit like a boy, do you think so Miranda?"
"Of course not rose." Said Lady Miranda "This is the first time I’ve had a good look at him Rose! I had no idea he was so pretty. Really with those long eyelashes, and those rose bud lips. They’re far too pretty for a boy for a boy to have. Most girls would do anything for those eyes and his hair. When we put Hilarie in a dress, I’m afraid we opened up a whole Pandora’s box. What a lovely girl he’d make."
Lady Miranda turned to Rose Parker "What do you think Rose, should Hilarie become a complete girl?"
Chapter Eleven
It was obvious the thought had not crossed Rose Parker’s mind. Then she remembered the time the three; Emily, Lady Miranda, and Rose Parker had discussed his future.
"Well frankly up till now, Miranda I don’t think we had ever considered it. Until now, I didn’t think it was feasible, however seeing Hilarie looking like this it’s certainly possible."
Rose Parker could quite clearly remember Emily’s wishes about sex reassignment. She’d been quite adamant that there would be no change. In fact she’d been quite horrified when Lady Miranda had raised it in conversation. However Rose now had another agenda. With her new sense of power and Hilarie listening, she could not resist teasing the horrible boy a little further.
"I remember the discussion we had with Emily and I’m not sure she would have wanted this solution."
A look of relief passed that was quite palpable across Hilarie’s face and Lady Miranda looked rather disappointed.
"I take it you are not in favour of surgery."
"Oh no I didn’t mean that. It is possible that if poor Emily could see what he looked like now, maybe she’d want to change her mind. Think of it Miranda she may have been very satisfied to have a very pretty well behaved daughter rather than the horrible son she had."
The terrified look on Hilarie’s face certainly made up for much of the terror she experienced at his hands. Again a shiver of excitement quivered through her body. This was certainly fun she thought.
"As I remember the main reason Emily felt this way, was that Hilarie has never been sexually active. He was never much of a boy as far as sex was concerned."
Lady Miranda raised her eyebrows, "Oh, is that your experience Yvette?"
"Well no My Lady, anything but" said Yvette.
"We had better solve this mystery then "said Lady Miranda. " Come here Hilarie".
Miss Yvette stood him before Mrs Rose Parker.
"Come along, raise your pretty skirts", said Miss Yvette.
He stood before his Aunt and guardian, the frightened look in his eyes hardened. Rose Parker knew it presaged a temper tantrum but a twitch of Madame Hester’s whip cured the move. With eyes downcast and trembling hands he raised his silken skirts and petticoats above his waist. Mrs Rose Parker reached out a slender be-ringed hand and began to caress his member through the silk pettipanties. Within seconds, Hilarie felt himself stir into life as his appendage began hardening within the silken cage. In a mixture of shame and fear, he tried to turn away, but her hand was too quick and tightened about it. Her other hand reached in and took hold of his testes sac. She not too gently squeezed his testicles. He gasped in pain, but the sensation resulted in his member became even tauter.
"See what we have here Miranda. Our little boy is not so little after all. What must we think of a boy who gets all excited when he’s put in a dress and panties?" said Mrs Rose Parker. "I thought he’d feel too ashamed to do this."
By the colour of Rose Parker’s face, Lady Miranda realised that Hilarie was not the only one becoming rather excited by a boy totally aroused when wearing girl’s clothing. Mrs Parker was clearly in the same boat.
Yvette broke in "It’s not the first time either my Lady!" and explained what had happened up stairs.
"You should have told me before Yvette. The boy is dressed this way to dampen these urges." She turned to Mrs Rose Parker. "I’m sorry Rose, but this sort of behaviour requires a firmer approach. I thought that after a short period as a girl Hilarie could return to his other life. This however makes it very difficult." Said Lady Miranda.
"Maybe there’s another solution," said Mrs Rose Parker looking at Hilarie, obviously some of the fear and pain he’d caused her was remembered. As her eyes caught his, a gleam of pure hate momentarily flashed though.
"Would you like to be a real girl Hilarie?" She said.
Suddenly Hilarie was frightened with the direction of the conversation.
"No I wouldn’t. I want to go home. Please won’t you let me go home. I promise I’ll be good."
"I’m afraid we can’t Hilarie. We promised your Mother you’d be looked after. If you left here, you’d be back to your old ways. All the good work so far would be wasted." Said Lady Miranda "and you wouldn’t want to go back to your friends dressed like that would you".
"Of course not, just give me back my proper clothes and I’ll go home." Said Hilarie his voice rising as his temper began to overcome caution.
"No Hilarie, for the present you are to live with me. As you wouldn’t behave, you will remain dressed as you are until you learn some manners." Said Lady Miranda.
"As your guardian I agree Hilarie. I wasn’t sure when I came today, whether I would agree with Lady Miranda. I don’t think you should be operated upon yet, but I think its best for you, that you remain with your Aunt. One day you will thank us for it." Said Miss Rose Parker, bending to kiss him on the cheek.
At that moment Hilarie’s frustration came to a head and he forgot all the lessons of the past month as he exploded.
"Like hell I will you nosy old bitch," he said swinging the doll at the figure before him. Miss Yvette’s hand failed to catch his arm and the plaster head of the doll hit exactly on the point of Mrs Rose Parker’s still rather tender nose. Blood spurting onto her satin scarf. Seconds later Hilarie found himself seized by his ear and arm and pinioned in Miss Yvette arms.
He had never seen anyone so angry as Mrs Rose Parker. Somehow all the sophistication vanished and any sympathy she held for Hilarie was gone with it. Madame Hester led her from the room to the dispensary to repair the damage. As she left, Mrs Parker was literally screaming for revenge saying that she wanted him changed to a girl whatever the cost. Although no real physical damage had been done, Rose Parker’s pride had been really hurt. In one very silly move Hilarie realised he had made a very bad enemy.
He happened to catch a look at Lady Miranda eyeing him coldly. It was a strange look, instead of disgust on her face there was a smile on her face. A rather enigmatic one, as though a plan of her design had succeeded.
Chapter Twelve
"This time, you won’t be punished for your disgraceful behaviour, but if it happens again, you will no longer be a boy. Do you understand me?"
The bewilderment in his face, answered for him. "No well I’ll show you said Lady Miranda.
"Doctor Buell is a colleague of mine and very good at taming naughty boys."
Her hand tightened on his member. For instance this can be made smaller". Her other hand caressed his testes, "or she can pop these right out, or just this one". As her fingers squeezed one of his jewels".
Hilarie screamed in fright, reaching out to take her hand and kiss it.
"OH PLEASE NO, Please Aunt Miranda, don’t do that to me please."
Miss Yvette looked concerned. "Don’t you think it may be too soon My Lady".
Lady Miranda looked pensive, "maybe you’re right Yvette, Mrs Parker’s behaviour was proving very tiresome". She turned to Hilarie.
"This time you escape but one more slip...!. The open ended threat was even more terrifying.
Lady Miranda said, "Yvette, maybe its time Hilarie met one of our PETs. Make arrangements to have Miss Simpson-Dupree and Jamie come for lunch in a few weeks time, maybe then he’ll see reason to behave. Now take him upstairs; he looks positively disgusting with his we-we like that. A little milking is in order, I think."
No matter how hard he tried to will it otherwise, his member remained stiff and erect. Miss Yvette led him upstairs to his bedroom and removed his dress and petticoats. She fastened his wrists to the trapeze bar raising his hands high above his head, and lowered his pettipanties. Instead of taking a square of white taffeta, Yvette chose a glove, it was of white taffeta covered with the same insignia that had covered Mrs Rose Parker’s scarf, a cupid chained to a heart.
The glove had a square affixed to it together with two silk ribbons. Miss Yvette tied the ribbons about his testes, then slowly pulled the glove over her fingers. The glove whispered sibilantly as she took the now quivering member and wrapped the square about it. The feeling was exquisite as the hand beneath the taffeta reached forward and back as she gently milked him. As she pulled forward the ribbons tightened about his jewels. Despite the utmost feeling of shame at what he was accepting, he began to respond to the soft hands and the silken cloth. It rustled sibilantly along his turgid flesh as an unstoppable surge of sexual pleasure began to engulf his body, and he began to move in response to her stroking, until with a shudder he burst into a climax.
Hilarie managed to stay out of trouble that evening. Lady Miranda was out till late and Hilarie was sent to bed early. It was quite a comfortable night. It was the first time he’d worn his new night corset, but Miss Yvette had only drawn it to within two inches.
"But don’t expect this every night."
He’d protested strongly when she produced a napkin for him to wear, but stopped immediately she reached for the switch. Hilarie accepted the indignity, now knowing that after the switching he would still have to wear it and the waterproof panties.
Over it went the nightgown of blue satin. It was long and full, Victorian in cut, with high neck and longs voluminous sleeves. As it was pulled over Hilarie’s head, he found these were not all they appeared. The sleeves had no opening and his arms were imprisoned, as securely as in a straight jacket. Satin ribbons were fastened about his wrists, securing them to waistband. To ensure, as Miss Yvette put it,
"So you won’t play with your joy stick".
Life continued in much the same way for Hilarie over the next two weeks. His schooling was not neglected in fact far from it, Miss Yvette proved to be a very strict teacher. For the past two weeks he’d been given lessons on junior subjects, from reading to arithmetic. Any failure to comprehend had brought more pain to his buttocks.
He could cope with the education process despite the discipline it entailed. What he could not handle was the feminine mystique that was continually working on his body and mind. The means were insidious but impossible to ignore. He was surrounded by a female world and there seemed nothing his male side could do to counteract it. Hilarie became aware through small but subtle reminders of what he was becoming. There was the constant whisper of silk against silk as he moved his legs or his thighs rubbed together. There was the creak of satin as he tried to ease his body into a more comfortable position in its terrible confinement within the heavily boned satin corset. In the background was sibilant hiss as the frilly hems of his petticoats slithered against his satin dress.
Mixed with the sound were the tactile feelings. The soft touch of satin as the full sleeves gently caressed his arms. The disturbingly sexual feel caused by the tight kid shoes that tipped his body forward and produced a painful but somehow sensuous sway to his walk. Over all this was all too pervading aroma of femineity? The dry pungent scent of face powder and makeup, the sweet opium taste of lipstick, all overlaid by the scent of perfume.
Try, as he might, there seem no way to recapture his masculinity. Hilarie had attempted to rediscover it in his dreams. He had endeavoured to fantasise himself into his former macho image. He’d tried to practice his karate strokes and kicks but somehow all his will was swallowed up within the silken web that now seemed to surround him. Another day ended as Miss Yvette helped him again into his satin nightgown. As the pretty maid began tightening the ribbons about his wrists, he again felt the cold feeling of despair envelope his body. Another day had passed without hope, there seemed to be no possibility of escape back to his former life.
Today at least, his future seemed to lie completely in the hands of these women. Tomorrow he would have to try harder to hold onto his masculinity. There had to be some way of returning to a male world.
The end of book one of The Gilded Cage saga.
The story of Hilarie and his struggle against his feminisation is continued in book two of The Gilded Cage series.
In this continuing sequel, JAMIE’S STORY. Hilarie meets Jamie, a boy who has undergone treatment at the hands of Doctor Buell. In his meeting with Jamie, Hilarie undergoes further feminisation at the hands of Miss Yvette, placing further doubts as to his ability to return to normal life.
© 1999
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