This is a female authoritarian sissy boy story, although with a softer touch than many others. There is sugar and spice and everything sissy-nice! So, if lots of frilly outfits, swishy milk-sop behavior and a little kinky sex are your thing, please read on. If not, thanks for looking anyway.
It is also a purely fictional fantasy work. No references are intended to portray any actual persons, places or events whether past or present.
This penultimate chapter is rated R. There is no active sexual contact, but there is sissy punishment culminating is a severe spanking. The main theme remains the frilliest of frills galore as Prissy embraces true sissy life with all its lacy trimmings and sweet creamy endings. Please be of appropriate age or be gone!
Miss Prissy Paunceworth
by sissystevie
Chapter VII – Prissy's Prognosis
The night passed with constant girlie dreams of Priscilla. Peter simply no longer existed. At least at a dream level, 'The Battle of the Boy' was feebly fought and forevermore foregone.
Keener, more experienced minds, however, knew that the 'war' was far from over. In many respects, 'Peter-Priscilla' remained very much in the breech. Closure was needed.
However, fear not, the woman of Merstead Hall – not to mention The Order – could have taught old Sun Tzu a lesson or two about the finer points of the 'Art of War!'
The heavy guns were to arrive at high noon.
*****
Monday had been a whirlwind for the played-out Prissy. She dressed in her new uniform and loved every stitch of it, went through classes, and practiced her best girlie voice at speech lessons with new zeal.
Prissy sensed that something special was afoot, but, being the sissy that she was, she was too taken over by her new self to notice. Her new uniform was especially a delight to her in that special sissy "to die for" way!
Of course, her underpinnings remained much the same: a very tightly laced white satin corset with the devilish device to hold her ever-enlarging 'fanny friend' tormentingly in place, mid-thigh stay-up opaque white stockings with bright pink satin bows at their ruffled tops, and a new, cutest-ever, pair of totally ruffled satin high-waisted panties with huge bows on each side that matched her stocking bows. Her open-tipped bra matched the panties, and its frills tantalizingly tingled her recently suctioned titties.
Even her severely curled hair had loosened up and did not look as extreme. 'Miss Tellit,' now that they were back at Merstead Hall and not at Auntie Octavia's, had combed out many of the small pin curls and added large double bow to the part side of Prissy's bob hair style.
However, it was her new uniform that pleased her the most. Again, she wore a round collared blouse, but this one was made from sheer white silk and buttoned up her back with many small cloth-covered buttons. Her bullet hard nipples were imprinted against its sheer fabric in a manner that your basic wet tee-shirt contestant would have died and gone to heaven for.
Her very short, knife-pleated skirt was made from the same silk fabric, but was a bright - almost fuchsia - prissy pink color. Beneath it was a swishy frilly silk chiffon petticoat that extended an inch below the skirt's hemline. The skirt's high waistband snugly fit about her corseted waist. A large satin bow adorned the front of the waistband. Frilled wide suspender-type straps came over her shoulders after crossing in back, then down up her chest, about her budding breasts. They attached with large cloth covered buttons on either side of the broad front bow.
Prissy's four-inch 'daytime' heels, adorned with ever-present bows, were perfectly dyed to match her skirt. Sweet pearl earrings, necklace, bracelets, rings and an anklet completed her ensemble.
The combination of her appearance and raging estrogen made her feel as if she were atop the prissy sissy world.
*****
At lunch, wearing her regulation dining pinafore, she got the lesson in pure feminine perfection of her young sissy life.
After all students and staff were seated, through the opening to the common room the two of them swept. Gasps came up from all. Perfection in pulchritude was simply redefined for those present.
The 'big guns' had arrived in the form of two blond, blue-eyed goddesses.
The older, mother figure had an aura about her that made those before her - an estimably lot themselves - pale in comparison. The younger, apparent daughter was simply breathtaking in her raw beauty. Both were striking past the point of simple awe. Despite their tailored silk summer dresses, the concept of Teutonic warrior-goddess came to many observers' minds.
Prissy's cute cupid-shaped lips made a huge 'oh.'
Winnie, who was seated next to Prissy, quite openly moaned.
Everyone's jaws dropped. Clitties, large and small, were a-twitter. Moist panties were in the making.
Constance Longstreth knew how to make an entrance, and her daughter, Daphne, was proving to be a very quick study!
The two beauties began what could best be described as a glide through the room in a direct line for the corner table where Doctors Learned and Cutwell and Miss Tellit were seated. However, as the older woman passed Prissy and Winnie's table she stopped and turned towards the two young girls.
Prissy's heart literally stopped.
Winnie's stomach cramped as her thighs came tightly together and a shiver went down her back.
Constance Longstreth's crystal blue eyes seemed to pierce each girl's soul as she scanned them from hair bow to heels. After what seemed an eternity, but in fact was only a few seconds, Winnie had the presence of mind to rise to her feet. Prissy followed shortly thereafter. Regaining a modicum of decorum, both girls executed what one might consider perfect deep curtsies given the circumstance.
It simply was the 'only' thing to do.
"Nicely done, young ladies. What lovely pinafores. So fitting." the woman exclaimed. "I will allow Doctor Learned to make formal introductions later." With that, she swiveled on her heels as if on air and resumed her gliding path to the corner table.
As the duo approached the table, all three Merstead Hall women rose. Miss Tellit went into a perfect, deep curtsey. The older women embraced essential as peers, but with a discernable deference being granted towards Constance Longstreth by the other women. Both Doctors made a fuss over Daphne while Constance carefully examined Miss Tellit. Prissy noticed the very visible electricity than ran between the two women as a twinge of jealousy ran through her.
Recovering, Prissy scribbled on the table's pad, 'Who are those guys?'
Winnie shook her head and shrugged her shoulders in a way to indicate she did not know, but Prissy sensed something more. A fleeting flicker of fear even crossed Winnie's face as she concentrated a tad too much on her salade niçoise. Finally she scribbled on the tablet, 'Why don't you ask Dr. Cutwell this PM.' It was not a question.
Prissy nodded and resolved to do just that. She had noted that the older woman was wearing a pendant similar to those worn by so many of the women she had recently met, although hers appeared curiously, if not befittingly, more grand.
*****
After entering the office of Cordelia C. Cutwell, Ph.D, and offering up the requisite curtsey, Prissy demurely stood awaiting further instructions.
"Priscilla, my dear, we have much to discuss this afternoon," Doctor Cutwell said. "In fact, I have extended this session for an extra two hours. Then you shall go directly to Madame d'Horscourt for deportment and dance instruction. Miss Tellit shall be unavailable for the balance of the day.
"We have much to discuss, but first I want to complete and update your Sexual Preference Acuity Examination. As you will no doubt recall, it ended rather abruptly."
"My god," Prissy thought, "that was only a few days ago and it seems like an eternity."
Doctor Cutwell noted Prissy's expression, but continued, "Honey, please go over and sit in the chair beside the monitor in the breakfront. No need to strip like last time now that you have graduated to skirts; although you will have to open your blouse, unhook your bra and also remove your panties."
Once again Doctor Cutwell placed the electrode sensors about Prissy's body and slipped the virtual reality helmet over the young sissy's head. The electrodes this time included a rather large anal probe. Prissy felt a small satin sack being fitted over her teapot and drawn tight about its base.
After the VR visor was lowered over Prissy's face, she saw the familiar soft blue background and heard the soothing outside sound suppressing tone.
Doctor Cutwell's voice came through one of the helmet's speakers as she asked Prissy if she was comfortable and ready to begin. Prissy nodded and shortly thereafter the images appeared.
As with the last time, photos of 'Peter' at home dressed both in normal boy's clothing and in his mother's lingerie flashed by. Then, more recent images of 'Prissy' at Merstead Hall appeared. The newer sissy pictures were interrupted every so often by images of 'old Peter,' that Prissy found quite disconcerting. Especially upsetting to Prissy was repeated close up contrasts between of ugly boys' shoes and socks against pretty feminine high heels and stockings. Similar contrasts between boxer shorts and frilly panties, boys' rough trousers and frilly sissy shorts, and plaid boy's shirts and pretty round collared blouses also flashed by Prissy - all with the same, and very predicable, results.
The images ended with several soothing pastel colored pictures of the super frilly girlie frocks and then faded to a pale blue as Doctor Cutwell completed her baseline evaluation.
As the images resumed, Prissy's body stiffened at drawings of sissies in bondage began to morph into actual images of her being disciplined by Doctor Learned, Miss Tellit and Auntie Octavia.
The images again paused and changed to the tall beautiful blond woman who had appeared during Prissy's last SPAE session. She again was dressed in a black leather dominatrix outfit with that strange recurring emblem on her belt buckle. Once again, she appeared in the final picture with a doe-eyed blond sissy who looked like her daughter.
Prissy gasped as she realized they were the two mysterious women who had entered the luncheon room only an hour ago. However, before she could totally absorb that fact, the prior session's image of the young sissy with fine honey brown hair who had looked so familiar to Prissy reappeared. Then, before her eyes, the young sissy's image morphed into a picture of Miss Tellit dressed in the black leather skirt, bolero top, long gloves and lace-up boots that she had worn last Friday.
"Oooh myyy gawd," uttered Prissy, quite aloud - and without stammering.
Doctor Cutwell carefully noted Prissy's reaction in her chair and waited for the next sequence to begin. The parts of this SPAE session that most interested her were now beginning.
Back inside Prissy's VR helmet, Miss Tellit's image now changed to a video of her little strip tease the prior Friday and continued forward to her 'she-male surprise.' The video continued to show her slow, sexy approach towards Prissy and Prissy's delighted oral submission that followed. Prissy almost felt as if she had Miss Tellit's beautiful clitty in her mouth anew.
Had the video lasted a nanosecond longer, Prissy would surely have completely climaxed into the now sticky satin bag covering her clitty. However, it switched to prior session drawings of two sissies dressed in frilly outfits kissing and fondling one-another. Peter's breath again quickened as his heart rate shot up as these images as well turned into a video of Prissy and Bunny making love.
Again at the brink, the screen blinked and pictures of naked handsome, and exceedingly well-hung, boys appeared. This time Prissy knew what was coming - Lance and Dickie!
There was no constraining the young sissy now. Her orgasm started when the video showed her sucking Dickie's delightful dick, but Lance's long 'lance' penetrating her maiden sissyhood brought her to full climatic eruption. She never even heard herself scream out, "Oh, yesss, fuck me you big stud muffin!" Again without the slightest stammer.
The SPAE needles flew off the chart and caused the machine to register 'Tilt' on Doctor Cutwell's monitor.
And Prissy had a very full satin peenie pouch to prove it.
"Well, that certainly and finally answers that!" Doctor Cutwell observed to herself as she re-booted the machine, hoping that the results were not lost in the crash.
*****
After Prissy had cleaned up and regained at least elemental composure, Cordelia Cutwell indicated that they should take their regular seats at the small table next to the window. Another, far less elaborate set of sensors were applied to Prissy's neck, arm and thigh. They attached to a little screen in front of Doctor Cutwell.
After a pause, Doctor Cutwell began, "It appears that events have overtaken your journal entries, which is acceptable as long as your have come to accept just who and what you are. You have traveled a very long path very rapidly, my dear. I have a few questions for you. If you answer to my satisfaction, we will then conduct a little experiment. After that I will discuss where we go from there.
"Okay?"
Prissy nodded.
"Excellent. All my question require a simple 'yes' or 'no' answer that you can indicate by either nodding or shaking your head. If you are unsure of an answer, simply shrug your shoulders. You must answer each question truthfully and from your heart. The little screen in front of me will detect even the slightest deviation from the truth.
"Here goes - Is your name Pricilla?"
Nod
"Excellent. Are you a boy?"
Pause and shrug.
"Okay. Are you a girl?"
Again, pause and shrug.
"Are you a sissy?"
Quick nod.
"Do you like being a sissy?"
Smile and nod, followed by a slight movement in her seat and a smoothing out of her petticoated skirt.
"Do you like your new uniform?"
Big smile and more smoothing out of both blouse and skirt. The nod was entirely unnecessary.
"Do you like your pretty feminine underthings?"
A smiling nod as Prissy's hands first traced her over her budding boobies and then down to her stocking tops.
"Would a real boy ever wear such clothing?"
Firm shake of Prissy's head.
"Then, however could you be a boy?"
Utter confusion came to Prissy's face.
"Girls wear such things, don't they?"
Nod.
"But not all girls. Only very young girls. Girls actually younger than you are. Isn't that right, Prissy, dear?"
Nod, with eyes downcast.
"And wearing clothes like these is very important to you, isn't it, sweetie?
Nod, with deepening blushed cheeks.
"You even like frillier things, don't you?"
Nod, with a slight tear forming in one eye.
"Now-now, calm yourself. There is a special world for people like you - a very, very happy world full of sugar and spice and everything nice. All you must do is accept your place in it."
A slight smile came across Prissy's pouty, cupid-shaped lips.
"Yes, you know, don't you?"
Nod.
"Of course you do, all special girls like you know - sooner or later, anyway.
Are you ready to accept just who and what you are, Pricilla?"
Tears from both eyes, but a firm nod.
"You're not just a plain 'sissy,' are you?
Shake of the head.
"No, indeed not, Pricilla, you are maybe the prissiest, frilliest simpering sissy on the face of the earth, are you not?"
Resigned nod.
"Oh, my dear, don't fret, little Nancyboys like you are maybe the single most sought-after young ladies in the world.
"Are you happy that you have discovered the real you?"
Nod, with a slight sniffle.
"Of course you are. You were quite literally destroying yourself trying to pretend to be a boy. Look at how it made you stutter and stammer.
"Do you ever want to be a boy again?"
Firm shake of Prissy's head.
"But you like real boys, don't you, Priscilla?"
Again fear and shame, but with a reluctant nod.
"My dear, that is perfectly natural for such a feminine thing as you.
"Boy's little spermie-sticks please you, don't they?"
Shameful nod.
"Have you thought about when you will get to play with another boy?"
Very shameful nod.
"Do you have a particular boy in mind?"
"Oooh my Gawd," thought Prissy, "she knows about John the lawn boy!"
"Answer me, sissy!" said an insistent Doctor Cutwell in a voice that clearly would not brook the slightest prevarication.
A resigned nod.
"Could it be that cute little Johnny who helps with our grounds?"
Another resigned nod.
"My dear, there are no secrets from your superiors here at Merstead Hall - a lesson that you will be well advised to remember both during your stay here and in your future sissy life as well. Superiors are always all-knowing and correct.
"Well, that just might fit into our plans. I will need to consult the Headmistress. One last question, then we shall proceed to my little experiment.
"Priscilla, do you now accept that you are a sissy in all respects of dress, behavior and manners, and shall remain so for the rest of your life?"
No nod, but after a short pause, a perfectly modulated, non-stammering and very feminine, "Yes, I do."
"I shall forgive you break of silence as it leads into what we shall do next. Priscilla, I want you to look at the pendant I am holding. No doubt you are curious that what the emblem means, but this time just concentrate on it. I am going to put you into a slight hypnotic trance, which I shall record and then play back to you when you come out of the trance."
*****
"Ah, my dear," Doctor Cutwell observed, "you're back. Please go over the cabinet and repair yourself while I reset the video equipment. I think you will be pleasantly surprised by what you are about to see."
After Prissy completed her tasks she took a seat next to the large monitor in the breakfront.
"Priscilla, I want you to maintain your silence; just sit and watch what occurred while you were under hypnosis. We will discuss it after the tape is over."
What followed was incredible to Prissy. After going "under" she seemed perfectly natural as Doctor Cutwell removed the sensors and began chatting with her. Prissy responded in completely natural speech, never stammering or stuttering once. They spoke for a good fifteen minutes about the sissy lifestyle. Prissy confessed how she felt completely natural for the very first time in her life and never could conceive of being anything other that the frilly little pantywaist she now was.
When the tape ended, Doctor Cutwell said, "See, my dear, find the problem, cure the symptom! The problem here is gender; the symptom is stammering. Or, I really should say, 'begin' to cure the symptom. You still have long hours of hard work ahead of you.
"First, you must fully become the sissy that you really are - not play as if you are a sissy. The sissy must be you, and you the sissy. Dress-up games are over. This is now the real you, and you must fully adapt to it. Live it in its entirety.
"Second, you must work at both you voice and your speech. You voice to make it girlish, and your speech to eliminate all those years of bad stammering imprints. When the sissy butterfly is ready to leave the cocoon, you should be fully ready. The girl will triumph over the silly wannabe boy, and the voice training will triumph over the acquired bad speech patterns.
"We will expect super sissy efforts in both areas as time is short. There are less than three weeks until your mother returns. Are you girl enough to do it?"
Prissy followed with a huge nod and reached over to hug the good doctor with tears again running down her happy sissy face.
"That's a good girl. It's all really so easy once reality is accepted, isn't it? Now I must go over a number of changes in schedule. Things at Merstead Hall are going to be a bit topsy-turvy for the next week. And, yes, part of it has to do with our luncheon visitors."
*****
Prissy's head was in a whirl as she went through two hours of the most intense deportment training yet. The normally jovial Madame Augusta d'Horscourt was demanding down to the smallest movement. Ever simpering sissy movement and gesture seemed completely over the top. Even eye and lip movements were required to be done to perfection.
However, it proved the perfect mental respite from the intense mental session with Doctor Cutwell. Prissy even forgot that her main mission was to find out "who were those guys?"
As the deportment session ended, Madame d'Horscourt hugged Prissy and said, "That was very good, my dear. You are such a natural sissy. I felt some rigorous training would settle your mind a bit.
"Why don't you run up to your room and dress for dinner. After your bath, Maid Hilda will help you dress. Then you will dine with me in my quarters. We will work on your table manners, but, more importantly, have a nice chat about your 'discoveries' of the day.
"Now give me your very best curtsey and run along like a good little sissy girl."
*****
Madame Augusta d'Horscourt lived quite well. Her quarters were in a little cottage across the street from the main building. The soft, lilting tunes of Swan Lake drifted through her house. Pictures of ballerinas, often autographed with personal notes, adorned many walls. Over the living room's fireplace mantel was an oil of a beautiful young ballerina 'en pointe.' The furnishings were fussy Victorian, which perfectly matched Madame's dress.
She was indeed an elegant woman who had retained her long, lithe dancer's body. Grace abounded in her every movement, which intoxicated her young sissy charge. Her long pencil skirt seemed to flow with the breeze of her movements.
"Ah, what a beautiful sissy you make, Priscilla," she said as Prissy entered the house and executed a flawless deep curtsey and presented the basket of sweets Hilda had insisted she bring. "We're going to take a little refreshment in my garden before dinner."
She led Prissy out to a perfect little English high-walled garden, one flower being more perfect than the one next to it. After sitting down on chintz-covered garden chairs and serving Prissy some delicious, sweet punch, Madame d'Horscourt began, "Priscilla I hope getting sorted out and walking over here was without incident. You are really quite beautifully turned out this evening. Another perfect flower in my garden!"
Prissy smiled back in a respectful manner. Dressing had been 'interesting' with Hilda the Horrible. Never had her corset been so tightly laced. However, the results were stunning.
Prissy looked like Alice in Wonderland - long blue polished cotton frock covered by a huge filly pinafore that was starched within an inch of its life, hair in a black satin ribbon and sweet little heeled black patent mary janes over the most frilly sissy socks imaginable.
However, the little plastic chastity device Horrible Hilda had locked on her (with considerable relish) was decidedly NOT pleasant. The outfit was so pleasing, and the device so...constraining! The device also reintroduced her clitty bell, although this time via a thin silver chain riveted at either end to the chastity and the dangling bell. Every movement caused the bell to clatter about between her mid-thighs.
The walk over from Merstead Hall, however, was another matter altogether. She could just then hear the police sirens as they raced to the three car accident caused by one man jamming on his brakes and another failing to look at the road.
"Do frilly sissies always cause such things to happen?" she wondered.
Madame smiled and said, "Cordelia wanted me to further discuss the things you two chatted about this afternoon once you had gathered your senses. There's a little tablet of paper and a pen in the basket attached to your chair's arm. Why don't you jot down questions as we go? Otherwise, just use head gestures or try to use the sign language.
"First, are you comfortable with your new life as a sissy? You know true frilly, prissy sissies like you are not made. One either is a sissy or not. The painful part for special girls like you is simply accepting it. But once you not only accept, but fully embrace it, what wonderful joys await!"
Prissy nodded and smiled. She wondered how she could ever give up such delicious clothing. Even the crushing corset was bearable for the slender waist it caused. Being a boy seemed alien to her, and besides, boys now had quite different 'uses.'
Madame seemed to understand completely as she returned Prissy's smile. She continued to wax eloquently on the joys of utter femininity and strict sissy development with Prissy merrily nodding along - there being no more zealous convert that the most recent convert.
Changing the subject, Madame went over the schedule changes. "The visit by Mistress Constance certainly threw everyone into a bit of a tizzy, if the wedding thing was enough already. Over dinner I will describe, as best I am permitted to, some of the circumstances surround all of this. For the moment, Merstead Hall will be closed this weekend, with most of the students sent home for a long weekend on Thursday. Wednesday will be a full day. You will spend the weekend here with me. It will give us a chance to work on your presentation issues. However, fear not, I fully appreciate your new sissy needs, and they shall not want.
"Tomorrow through Thursday, Miss Tellit will return to drill you in voice and speech, but she will be spending the remainder of her time down at 'Fairystead' with her Auntie Octavia. Doctor Learned will be spending every day through Thursday drilling Daphne Longstreth on her voice."
"Daphne Longstreth?" Prissy wondered.
"Your afternoons will comprise a brief session with Doctor Cutwell and the balance with me. You will be expected to return to your nightly journal entries that are to be turned in each morning in the regular way. You also will be subject to Merstead Hall's regular discipline routine, so mind your manners and keep your 'P-Book' with you at all times - especially with Hilda.
"Also, my dear, although I am considered a 'softie' by some, be well advised that I enjoy tanning a sissy's derriere as much as the other mistresses. And redden your rump I shall!
"Moving along, Friday morning I will take you into Providence so you made bid everyone farewell at the airport - it's something I want you to see, and then take you to your regular weekly appointments with Doctor D'Oley and at Elegance by Eugenia.
"Finally, fear not about breaking your little liaison with the lawn boy. If you are a very good girl, good things will 'come' your way over the weekend.
"Now let's go into dinner."
The initial stages of dinner were constantly punctuated by corrections and lessons on how a proper young lady dines. Prissy had been brought up with exceptional upper class manners, but never had the poor dear realized that standards changed for females, and changed even more so for sissies.
It was a good job that Prissy's corset dampened any real desire to eat because it appeared sissies rarely ate very much at all. Things were difficult enough, and about to be more so...
"Really, my dear," Madame exclaimed, "you have no idea of what pure perfection is expected from a sissy. I think your time would be well spent as my maid. It should sort you out to perfection. Yes, we shall do that - beginning tomorrow."
"Maid!" thought Prissy. "Will I end up like Gigi with all those piercings and horrible clitty collar?"
Madame continued, "Yes, nothing better than learning how to serve so that one might learn how to be served. Also, the discipline will do wonders!"
Towards the end of dinner, the subject changed to the mysteries of the dominate women Prissy now found herself surrounded.
"Priscilla, first you must understand that you are now part of a much larger, but very private world. You must only understand its reality, but not question it. Until you reach the age of eighteen, you will not be allowed to fully participate. As is, certain allowances have been made because of a combination of your medical condition and your psychological stammering handicap.
"As I believe Doctors D'Oley and Cutwell have described, you have something called Klinefelter's Syndrome. In other words, your genes are more female than male. It also explains your girlish looks and earlier breast development. Often speech problems also occur. Today, I think Doctor Cutwell demonstrated that once you adopt a feminine persona, your speech problems disappear, at least under a hypnotic induced state and absent boring boyish behavior.
"In any event, here is all you are to know at this point. There is a very selective organization comprised of very powerful people that nurtures and allows sissy behavior, amongst other sexual persuasions. Let's just call it the 'Group' for now.
"Within the 'Group' there is an 'Order' that maintains discipline, or 'order,' with the Group. Certain symbols you have noticed denote sisters of that Order. Violations of any of the tenets of the Group are dealt with swiftly and mercilessly. There are too many world-class powers affiliated with the 'Group' to have it any other way.
"Miscreants, literally, are 'disposed of,' and in a most horrible way to set an example to other members. Secrecy is the primary directive, but abuse and mistreatment of others are also viewed as cardinal sins. This is why, Winifred, demurred when you asked about our luncheon guests.
"As to our 'guests,' let it rest with the revelation that Constance Longstreth is a very important person within the 'Order.' Her daughter, Daphne, in case you have not connected the dots, is also a sissy.
"The grand flap about a wedding is that one of the most famous panty boy rogues in the history of humanity is giving it all up for a sweet little cumquat named Julie. The roué, a gentleman named Fred Gingerman, would be a catch for any girl - genetic or sissy. He hails from a place called Fromage, Wisconsin, an area famous for girlie boys of all stripes. In fact, there's one nearby village they even call Panty Town. Practically no one can recall its real name. Even Map Quest now lists it as Panty Town. I hear the entire county is in an official state of morning over his matrimony.
"Anyway, old Freddie is a much loved senior member of the Group and many are attending his wedding up in Vermont. It's somewhat of a preview of a really huge wedding in England next month between two people who could legitimately be called the royalty of the Group – and the Order for that matter.
"Now, Priscilla, I want to the listen very carefully to this. Do NOT ask questions about any of this, and never say anything about it to others, regardless of how well you know or trust them. If you bring it up with any person during your stay here, you will be punished in the most terrible manner. And 'any person' goes from the youngest student to the Headmistress, herself. It also, obviously includes any person outside of the Merstead family.
You mother will explain more to you when she comes to get you.
Do you understand all of this, my child? This is no game or test of some kind. The consequences of not completely obeying are most dire, and perhaps not reversible. And if it seems that I am trying to scare the wits out of you, I am!
Prissy solemnly nodded her head in agreement.
*****
Waking up the next morning, still tightly 'done' in her chastity, to Hilda's bark was less than Prissy had become accustomed. It even surpassed the 'charm' with which the old bag put our tender heroine to bed the night before. The lacing was again mercilessly tight and the uniform the same as Monday's.
The horrid Hilda had taken special delight in making Prissy re-suction her nipples and titties at an unbelievably high setting and inserting the largest-ever 'fanny friend' in Prissy's sissy pussy. The five-inch, rather than four-inch, heels almost seemed an afterthought given the anal intrusion, tittie expansion and waist constriction. However much Prissy loved her uniform, the silver bell hanging well beneath her hemline was particularly disconcerting, especially so given its painful 'attaching' device.
"And I bet she calls this progress!" silently thought Prissy as she watched Hilda the Impaler make various notations in her P-Book. "Wasn't there a cartoon strip about someone like her?" Prissy wondered.
The day turned out to be very busy, but tiring for Prissy as she attacked her lessons with great enthusiasm. A slightly distant Miss Tellit drilled her constantly in ever higher octaves. Her mind may have been elsewhere, but Miss Tellit's demand for vocal perfection relentless.
Towards the end of the speech drills, which had previously consisted of vowel and certain consonant sounds, Miss Tellit introduced something new.
"Prissy," she said, "it's time to selectively introduce a few words, in song form at first. Thus we shall begin working on a few musical words. Today that word shall be your name, 'Pricilla.'
"I want you first to hum the start of the song, "Maria" from "West Side Story." But concentrate only on the word 'Maria.'"
As Prissy focused on the single musical phrase, Miss Tellit gradually introduced 'Pri-cill-ah' until Prissy was singing it out in a perfect contralto and then a mezzo-soprano voice. The single 'Pri-cill-ah' was then repeated thrice in a mini melody.
"Excellent, sweetie," Miss Tellit concluded. "I want you to keep that phase in your mind for the balance of the day, singing it out at every opportunity. Madame d'Horscourt will use it throughout your deportment training later to day.
Doctor Cutwell had allowed Prissy to lie down on a couch and softly sing her new 'Priscilla' song while she caught up on paperwork. The little rest was welcome hiatus as Madame d'Horscourt's training would surely be as relentless as Miss Tellit's voice training.
And that it was. Over two hours of tutu training - the entire time spent singing 'Pri-cill-ah...Pri-cill-ah...Pri-cill-ah' in the highest register imaginable.
At the conclusion, an exhausted Prissy was informed that she would be moving into Madame d'Horscourt's cottage through the weekend.
"Hilda has moved the necessary items into my guestroom. I think you will find everything to your sissy satisfaction," Madame announced. "Yes," Madame continued, answering a question not asked, "as I mentioned last night, I think a period of intense maid training will benefit you advancement nicely."
And so that also was. At promptly six-o'clock Prissy bowed deeply to Madame d'Horscourt as the mistress of the house entered through the front door.
Despite the humiliation of submissively serving, Prissy's little clitty was testing the limits of her chastity device. The fine silk-taffeta black with white trim French maid's dress was simply too much. Its lace, frills and bows were endless. The short skirt stood perpendicularly out from her waist on a cloud of stiff crinolines. White lace stockings and matching gloves adorned her slender, girlish limbs. Atop her head was a ribbon and bow maid's bonnet with long satin streamers, makeup was pure vamp in bright reds and contrasting white, and black patent stilettos sported full six-inch spike heels. The obscene little silver bell dangled down well below her exposed frilly white panties, frilly suspenders and stocking tops.
Although Madame was clearly pleased with Prissy's appearance, she was again relentless in drilling the young sissy on every detail of proper cocktail and dinner presentation. Every item, down to each piece of tableware, had to be properly placed and used.
After dinner, bedtime was indeed welcome. Prissy's whole body ached and sleep, despite her painful denial of sexual release, came quickly.
*****
Wednesday and Thursday were nearly identical, including seemingly endless notations by Hilda the Horrible in the dreaded P-Book.
"What is it about these old bat maids?" Prissy wondered. To her, it was a dead heat between Hilda and Auntie's maid Hortense as to which one won most horrible honor. "They must be sisters," she mused.
In fact, she was correct, but that's another story.
Miss Tellit added lyrics to Prissy's "Priscilla" song. Thursday at lunch Prissy was required to sing the song for the entire school.
"I am a sissy named Pri-cill-ah!
"Pri-cill-ah...Pri-cill-ah...Pri-cill-ah!
"Say it loud and it's like singing,
"Say it soft and it's almost like praying.
"Pri-cill-ah...Pri-cill-ah...Pri-cill-ah!
"I'm in love with a sissy named Pri-cill-aaah!"
Evenings were welcome relief with the one exception of continued lack of sexual release. It was now a personal 'worst' for poor Prissy. Never since adolescence - as either pseudo-boy or sissy - had he or she gone this long. Constant leaking was becoming a major problem and poor Prissy's plums were in the very most delicate of conditions.
What poor sissies in training must endure!
*****
Friday looked to be better, or at least Prissy hoped so. Even a visit to Nurse Ratched looked good next to her past few days. Maybe they would milk her clitty again, she prayed. "A-n-y-t-h-i-n-g for r-e-l-i-e-f" the desperate demoiselle thought.
However, then again it was punishment day and there was that pesky little thing about her P-Book... "Anyway, a new day and perhaps a new dress," she thought.
That is was. On both counts. Madame d'Horscourt was absolutely effervescent as she personally supervised Prissy's preparation.
"We're to drive Lavinia and Cordelia, the Doctors Learned and Cutwell, up to the airport where the wedding travelers will assemble. They are being picked up by Sir John Strong and his fiancée, DeeDee Moore, in his fancy aeroplane. They are the couple getting married in London of whom I spoke earlier in the week.
"Two of the ladies will be visiting with your mother when they return to the UK, so I want you looking - and acting - your very sissy-best!
"In fact, I want you to sing your new little 'Priscilla' song as you mince about. It will help with both your sissy deportment and voice."
And indeed Prissy did, and in the most over-the-top simpering sissy manner possible.
Her lingerie was briefer than usual, and for the first time in days, did not include either a corset or her 'fanny friend.' It was a matched set of white with baby blue trim open panties, open bra and garter belt. The bra was a mere triangle which framed and slightly supported her budding boobies. The panties were much of the same, with minimal silk and lace trim fabric twin triangles formed connected at the sides by the ribbon. The garter belt was finished off with blue satin ribbons over its suspenders' clasps. Stocking were white of a full fashion design with Cuban heels and pronounced seams.
The dress screamed sissy even to a sissy!
The sissy frock was made from a shiny polished cotton fabric in a baby blue with white polka dot pattern. It began with a high white starched collar that framed her heart-shaped rouged cheeks and pouty pink lips. A pretty pale blue silk flower was attached where the front collar ends met. Just under her bosom was a baby blue silk sash that tied in back into a huge bow. Short, very puffy sleeves finished off in tight white hems with pretty blue silk bows complimented the bodice.
Under the sash, the dress exploded outward under a sea of white, frothy petticoats. So extreme were the petticoats that Prissy could not even rest her arms on her sides. At very best she could only hold her arms outward at a forty-five degree angle. The petticoats, which barely managed to cover her imprisoned peenie, also tickled its tiny head, causing even more torment for the chaste cumquat. The dress made no pretense whatsoever of covering her naked thighs and frilly suspenders.
Her trimmings were not to be outdone by the frilly frock. Prissy wore sheer stretch lace gloves that revealed her long pink nails and ended in a huge lace ring above her wrists. A huge blue silk bow mounted to a garter adorned her left thigh and five-inch blue silk heels with more bows on their ankle straps adorned her petit feet. Pearls were everywhere: earrings, bracelets, anklet, necklace and rings worn over her gloves.
The first of the final two items was a tiny heart shaped hand bag that matched her heels, which she was reminded to hold in the most delicate manner between her thumb and forefinger. The second shocked even poor Prissy. It was a sissy bonnet that matched her polka dot dress and frilly under things. It tied under her right chin in yet another huge blue silk bow. The bonnet rested towards the rear of her head and its frilly bill framed her pretty blond bangs and heavily mascara-ed, blue-shadowed eyes.
The outfit inspired the sissy, and the sissy rose to the occasion. Heck, even Arnold Schwarzenegger would have acted like a nattering nancyboy in that confection of polka-dotted lace and frills.
The Sissinator? Naw, tell me it ain't so!
The ride to the airport was something of an adventure. Madame d'Horscourt drove Merstead Hall's station wagon with Doctor Learned in front, Doctor Cutwell in the back seat with their luggage, and Prissy in the rear. Prissy's billowing petticoats literally filled the entire rear cargo space.
*****
After porters had tended to luggage and parking, the Merstead Hall party arrived in a luxurious VIP lounge in the fixed base operator's building at a far end of T. F. Green airport. Amazing to Prissy was that the staff barely took notice of either her bizarre outfit or curious singing – at least above their waists.
The Doctors Learned and Cutwell checked in with the passenger desk and were informed that Gulfstream G550, tail number G-MYDD, inbound from London-Luton was currently in range and would be on the ground in a few minutes. Prissy wisely decided that standing was far easier than attempting to sit in her petticoats and elected to position herself to one side of the seated Madame d'Horscourt.
As Doctors Learned and Cutwell were walking towards the seating area, Miss Wilhelmina Willing Waxwell burst through the doors with a struggling overloaded porter in tow. Once again, she was stunning beyond belief with her ebony hair, searing emerald green eyes and alabaster skin.
She, along with the Doctors, was dressed in cool, crisp linen slacks and a fine silk blouse. Each dominate woman worn a tight black leather belt bearing that special emblem. Madame d'Horscourt, befitting her sissy charge, was dressed in classical governess garb with a grey pencil skirt and severely starched white, high collared cotton blouse.
The women warmly embraced before Miss Waxwell air kissed Madame before turning to inspect the standing sissy spectacle.
"My goodness, they are truly the gift that keeps on giving, aren't they?" Wilhelmina cooed. "Just look at the way she blushes! Lavinia, dear, you do have a touch with certain sissies. And my compliments to you, Augusta, for a perfect presentation. The Mistresses Constance and DeeDee will be well pleased."
Doctor Learned approached, saying, "Well, this one clearly never was a real boy! It was only through her mother's contact with the Order that we were able to step in and properly remedy things. Her mother is now on the path to true womanly righteousness and her formerly brutish father on the path of corrective enlightenment. This little flower is simply becoming her true sissy-self."
"Brutish father being corrected? Now there's a concept I whole-heartedly support!" snipped Miss Waxwell. "May I ask under whose tender loving care?"
Doctor Learned replied with a wicked smile, "Well, it began with the Countess, but Electra Von Hellwig took a certain 'interest' shortly thereafter. She needed another project after Poor Pitiful Percy was allowed to go play house with Henrietta."
"Damn," sighed Wilhelmina, "I bet there was a great pool on how long his balls lasted! Sometimes being way out in Wisconsin does have its drawbacks! Maybe the pool's still open; I'll have to ask DeeDee. Gosh, I really do miss my sisters – especially Electra! This wedding will be a nice time to renew our sisterly 'vows'..."
Doctor Learned replied, "I know how you feel, Willy, even Merstead Hall can be confining at times. Little Prissy has been a breath of fresh air for our ways with young sissies. Delia and I plan on an extended holiday in Europe after Johnny's and DeeDee's wedding. It's well past high time to refresh ourselves. I especially miss the Countess' stables. We have a little vixen named Winnie staying at the Hall who would make a pony for even the Countess' record book."
"A sissy?" inquired Miss Wilhelmina.
"Oh, no! All girl and of the sweetest, most delicious kind," replied Doctor Learned.
The conversation was brought short with the entry of the Auntie and her entourage. Octavia Friller walked through the entry way with Mistress (Grand Mistress, to the initiated) Constance followed by Miss Tellit, and that darling Daphne, who was arm-in-arm with Bunny.
"My Bunny?" thought a slightly miffed Prissy. However, she was more stunned by the change in Bunny. She looked and dressed in the manner of Miss Tellit, who, in turn, looked and dressed in a manner similar to the older dominant women in crisp slacks and a fitted silk blouse with billowed long sleeves.
Bringing up the rear were the Hortense, Auntie's housekeeper-from-hell, followed by two frilly pink sissy maids, Gigi and one who looked like a carbon copy clone. Prissy later learned that the other maid was named Mimi and was in service to Mistress Constance. Apparently both maids had been trained at Beatrice Bracewell's Academy for Miscreant Boys.
Major-major air-kissing and curtsying followed. Prissy was made to sing her new song repeatedly for the assemble group, much to their delight. Even the sissy maids giggled at her warbling 'Pri-cell-ah.'
Reprieve came when the plane (Dee-Plane?) pulled up to the terminal.
It's hard work to fuck for 3,300 miles, even at very close to the speed of sound! But this duo had apparently done it! Well, maybe some high attitude turbulence helped a bit too. And they were proud to show it! Especially a rosy-cheeked DeeDee! All in all, the betrothed couple managed to put forth their best. Few presidents or potentates descend plane's stairs as did Sir John and DeeDee.
Sir John Strong was the prototype Alpha Male with steel grey eyes and matching hair. Although in his fifties, he possessed the body of a fit thirty-something year old. Prissy's legs, and those of every other sissy present, went a bit weak at seeing such a fine specimen of pure male power.
DeeDee Moore was every bit as splendid as her intended - if not more so. Despite the fifty-thousand foot fucking, she ruled every bit as much so as the vaulted Constance. They looked similar with long, flowing blond hair, blue eyes and perfect figures, but there was a difference. DeeDee was lighter in spirit and less voluptuous in figure. Regal, yes, but fun as well. She virtually oozed lust and appeared every bit the match for her Alpha Male fiancé, especially in her hip-belted, skin-tight black silk flight suit.
They were followed by a very cute blond flight attendant in an impossibly short shirt and crisp blouse that left less than very little to the imagination.
The terminal entrance was a kerkuffle of kisses and more. The ladies of the Order shared far more that air kisses. Miss Wilhelmina and DeeDee shared what had to be five minute lip-lock. Special attention was lavished on Miss Tellit. It was some time before attention turned to the new sissy.
"DeeDee, you just have to see this new sissy," exclaimed Constance. "She's too young for the Group, but I think we can make some medical dispensations."
As Constance and DeeDee descended upon the hapless sissy, Prissy instinctively offered a curtsey.
"Lovely, just lovely!" replied DeeDee. "She so reminds me of both your Daphne and myself. Although I wish the Group had been there when I was her tender age."
Prissy had stayed down in her curtsey until DeeDee offered her hand and said, "Rise, my young sissy and see all that you will become."
Prissy almost fainted. "This woman of women was a sissy!" Prissy thought.
"Goodness, this one swoons in the very best sissy style," added Constance. "She's destined to greatness. We shall have to talk about her handling. I'll have a little chat with her mother after we're all back in London."
DeeDee looked out at the tarmac and said, "Now, ladies, I have to get about turning this aircraft around. I'm flying it up to Burlington. Stevie's my copilot - strap in tightly girls! We're at capacity seating."
"And no doubt incur twenty or so FAA citations along the way," chimed in the newly appeared Sir John. "Well, 'tis the price we must pay. She did head up the group who designed the Mars Odyssey vehicle, and she is a fully ticketed G550 pilot in command. Just don't expect any beverage service, but then she should make it up there in about twenty fun filled minutes. The Green Mountain Boys and their F-16's may get a DeeDee air show. I just hope it's limited to the air and not the locker-room," he heartily laughed.
DeeDee, laughing along with everyone else, departed to her appointed mission with Stevie in tow, and the assembled travelers began working their way towards boarding with the assistance of the two trans-Atlantic pilots. Within a few minutes the aircraft was buttoned up and the whine of turbines was heard.
The two off duty pilots were escorted to the exit by Hortense the Horrible, each arm in arm with Fifi and Mimi and delighted in what promised to be the very best form of room service for the weekend. Prissy was again stuffed into the station wagon's cargo area for her weekly trip to the Doctor.
*****
Doctor D'Oley's office visit was briefer than usual. Prissy was lead back to the examination room by Nurse Manley where her frilly dress was removed and she was strapped onto the examination table.
"I see our little fairy princess is undergoing abstinence training," the stout, crisply starched Nurse-from-Hades commented in an amused way as she inspected Prissy's chastity device. "Well, we have a special milking technique for just that very circumstance."
That certainly was NOT the plan Prissy had in mind for milking.
Nurse Manley was just completing her measurement and photographs when Diana H. D'Oley, MD entered the room. Without words, she began examining Prissy's burgeoning breasts. At last she commented, "Mildred, I think I shall have to cut back on her hormones a bit. The rate of growth is exceptional and we want this to be a well-paced program over the next two years. Pity, really. If it were up to me, I would just perform an orchiectomy and move on with her complete transition. There really never was a boy here anyway.
"At any rate, get a minimum sperm sample – I know you love doing that when the little dears are chastised - and draw blood for the regular tests. When you are done she may leave."
After drawing blood, the nurse took a thin shaft and inserted it up Prissy's pussy canal. She positioned it against the prostrate gland and pressed a small button. An electrical charge went through Prissy's gland and squirts of liquid shot from the tip of her imprisoned peenie into a vacuum specimen tube. Prissy received absolutely no sexual stimulation during the process. Never had she so thoroughly been humiliated, but the tension in her tiny testes was slightly relived, at least for the time being.
*****
The weekly visit to the Elegance by Eugenia was likewise routine, although considerably less humiliating. The two women first tended to a few errant body hairs and then proceeded to put her hair up into a chignon and apply more permanent makeup. The makeup was surprisingly heavy and decidedly on the tarty side - enough to make a chorus girl's look light by comparison.
During the process Prissy became acutely aware that this process was indeed quite permanent. There would be no returning to boyhood in any form. Even her old name of Peter seemed but a distant memory. "Was this really for the better?" she wondered.
*****
Back at Madame's house Prissy's hair and makeup made complete sense when she was presented with a new maid's uniform. It was the same style worn by Fifi on the prior weekend: an outfit that displayed far more than it concealed, and one designed to offer up its wearer as a sexual object on display for all to see.
Definitely NOT your mother's maid uniform!
The traditional black maid's dress completely bared her trembling titties. Her waist was corseted to a tiny twenty-two inches. The terribly short, heavily petticoated skirt fully revealed her clamped clitty, which protruded out from open white lace and ruffled panties worn under the corset's stocking suspenders. The ever-present silver bell dangled from her peenie prison.
The back of the panties was completely open about her sissy cheeks. If Prissy bent over, the end of an extremely long and large 'fanny friend' could be seen. Its movement deep within the hapless sissy mercilessly played against her clitty's confinement in a constant yin-and-yang struggle of pleasure and pain.
The remainder of her outfit complimented the dress - white lace gauntlet-gloves and stockings, frilly black and white lace garter suspenders, six-inch black patent heels and a frilly white organza apron with a huge bow tired in back and a frilly maid's bonnet. All in all, her outfit was more of a display rig than any sort of proper maid's dress.
After supervising Prissy's preparation, Madame sent her to the kitchen to see about dinner, which had been delivered along with some hors d'oeuvres from across the street by one of Merstead Hall's cooks. The note accompanying the two serving portions told 'the maid' to set the table for a formal dinner for two.
"Two?" thought Prissy, "Just ducky! I guess my little 'rig' is to be shared by someone else. As if the exposure to just Madame d'Horscourt isn't enough!"
The combination of the Doctor's D'Oley's castration comment, realization that her beauty treatments – not to mention her hormones - were permanent, and being put into a scandalous servant maid's outfit was weighing heavily on Prissy's mind. "Would she end up like Fifi and Mimi – virtual sissy sex slaves?" her mind teased.
"Prissy, you little minx, have you finished your chores?" snapped an obviously irritated Madame.
Prissy had been in a daze and turned to confront the challenging voice.
Then her jaw literally dropped.
Madame Augusta d'Horscourt was dressed as an absolute vamp. Her long silver hair, usually in a tight ballet bun, was brushed down over her slender shoulders. Her makeup was both subtle and profound in striking black stage eyeliner and lashes contrasted with perfect pale skin and bright red lips. Sparse, but carefully positioned, jewelry only added to the effect.
A long, very sheer black organza negligee covered her entire body from ankle to neck and then to her wrists, but allowed fine black French lace matching bra, garter belt and panties to show through. Tiny red satin bows and trim accentuated her expensive lingerie in the most provocative manner. She wore long black fully fashioned seamed stockings and six inch, pointed toe black patent heels. The effect was electrifying over her perfectly toned and supple dancer's body.
"My dear," she continued, "tonight is certainly NOT the night to stage a little pissy sissy hissy fit. First, it is your punishment night, and secondly I am expecting a gentleman caller. I simply will not brook even the slightest transgression. Do you understand me, Missy?"
Prissy had recovered from the initial shock of the newly vamped image of the Madame d'Horscourt and was registering the fact that some older man would witness her parading about half naked.
"Actually," she thought, "worse than naked!"
With that in mind Prissy did a very foolish thing. She stomped her heels and put her finely manicured hands on her hips.
"So, that is the way it shall be, eh?" snapped Madame. "Well, my fine frilly feathered friend, we shall see about that!"
Five minutes later Prissy's predicament was far more perilous.
Locked metal manacles connected by a six-inch chain were about her ankles, virtually hobbling her. Similar manacles connected her wrists to, of all things, her chastity device, allowing hand movement only from her upper thighs to her waist. More troubling were the combination of a board metal posture collar and a large red ball gag. Most troubling, however, were two nipple clamps that had little silver bells dangling down from them. Her fresh-from-pumping nipples throbbed in their tight, unrelenting grasp, which was well out of reach from her fettered hands.
Satisfied with her handiwork, Madame d'Horscourt said, "Prissy, I was going to let you out of your chastity device in the morning, but now you have earned at least another day in it. The slightest further display of inappropriate attitude from you will lengthen its stay. And just because you so seem to like stomping your pretty little feet, tomorrow you shall spend the day in special ballet shoes made to correct little pissy sissies like you. Try stomping it them!" she smirked.
"Mind you, there is still your regular Friday P-Book punishment to come, and I think I just might add an additional little twist for all of us – well, two of us anyway – to enjoy!
"Hurry up and complete setting the table. When Mister Rudolph, or Rudy, Rhammar arrives – and that's 'rammer' with an 'h' and an 'a – r,' I expect you to greet him at the door in the very best sissy maid fashion and then bring him out to the walled garden. And Prissy, stop fussing about how you look. I also am dressed in a certainly risqué manner and fully intend on sitting outdoors, albeit within the confines of my garden. Rudy will flip over it, just as I am sure he will flip over your outfit. If he wishes to fondle you, you shall not only allow it, but react as if you love it, which you probably shall.
"Rudy Rhammar? With an 'h' and an 'a – r'?" thought Prissy. "You really could not make this stuff up. I wonder if he spells 'Rudy' with double 'o's' and a 't'?"
However, the bondage and nasty nipple clamps had quite thoroughly quieted Prissy's mini rebellion, and she curtsied as best she could to Madame d'Horscourt.
Moving about was a whole new adventure to Prissy as she set the table. The bondage severely restricted her movements, causing her to think carefully about each task, however, simple. Moreover, she rapidly found out that it was hard not to droll about her gag. Although the initial shock of pain had died down, the nipple devices pulled on her at a different angle when she bent over, causing a new jolt each time. The cacophony of jingling bells served as a constant reminder of both her station and her plight.
Soon enough, the doorbell did ring and Prissy carefully half minced, half frog-marched her way towards it, thankful that Madame's house was small. Without thinking, the guileless young sissy opened the door and went into a too deep curtsey.
"My, my, what have we here?" said a deeply masculine voice. "Aren't you the trusting sissy?"
Prissy suddenly realized just how exposed she was in the front doorway and that she had opened the door without checking just who was behind it. A drooling, muffled squeak came out from her throat as she began to tip over from her precarious curtsey position.
Strong hands grasp her shoulders and raised her to an erect position.
"What a cunning little sissy you are," said the gentleman Prissy corrected assumed to be the one and only Rudolph-Rudy Rhammar with an 'h' and an 'a – r.'
"And I assume a recently naughty one from the extent of your restraints. Actually, a very naughty one to incur that sort of wrath from Augusta. She's normally such a soft top."
Prissy swooned in the man's strong arms and then swooned anew when she got a good look at him. He could have been Sir John Strong's brother – the very epitome of a perfectly tailored middle-aged Alpha Male with steel grey hair and sharp blue-grey eyes. The much amused gentleman waited until Prissy composed herself and then relished the show as she slowly led him through the house to the awaiting Augusta.
"A most interesting turn of events," thought Rudy. "Augusta is exceptional – dancers always are the best performers is so many ways, but adding this little sissy cumquat puts new dimensions on an already most satisfactory weekend calculus."
One look at Augusta convinced him that this was to be a most remarkable weekend indeed.
*****
Cocktails and dinner were all work for the fettered sissy maid. Towards the end of dinner, Prissy was convinced that her now numb nipples might fall off. Throughout dinner, ole Rudy Rhammar - with an 'h' and an 'a – r' - had his hands all over Prissy, even inspecting her chastity device and 'fanny friend.' At one point she was even required to proffer her chest for his inspection, causing renewed agony to her nipples has he insisted on playing with her bells.
"I dare say the sissy wants her nipple clamps removed," laughed an increasingly wine-liberated Madame d'Horscourt.
"She doesn't know?" questioned Roger.
"I think it's her first time in them," giggled Madame.
"How delightful," replied Rudy. "We shall be in for a show then. Perhaps I should hold her when you do it."
"Oh, I think very much so. Despite the initial pain, I bet the little minx squirts," she giggled anew.
*****
Punishment time eventually came. Prissy had cleared the dishes and presented herself in the salon before Madame and Mr. Rhammar, P-Book in hand. The foolish girl actually thought that punishment would bring some relief to her beleaguered nipples through removal of the infernal clamps.
Silly sissy.
"Sissy," began a somewhat inebriated Madame d'Horscourt who was clearly preoccupied with Rudy, "I shall dispense with the normal reading of violations, etcetera, etcetera. I have been drinking, therefore, I may not punish you. Mister Rhammar, however, is in complete control of himself and, therefore, may.
"He's always had a bit of a snecker for frilly sissies such as you. Hence, he shall spank you tonight for three additional reasons: one, he is qualified; two, he likes it and will make a most admirable job of it; and three, it will turn him on, which I fully intend on exploiting for my own pleasure. Spanking a sissy may be the next best thing to Viagra, and a whole lot less risky!
"However, I shall remove your nipple clamps. Rudy, dear, would you please tightly hold the sissy whist I do the 'dirty deed'."
"Dirty deed? This sounds so NOT good!" thought Prissy.
It wasn't.
Mister Rhammar, held Prissy tightly about her waist and arms, his manly rooty-rammer pressing deeply against Prissy's derriere. Madame approached the hapless and thoroughly helpless sissy and delicately undid the first clamp.
Prissy saw stars as about twenty thousands volts of tormented pain mixed with an equal amount of sexual electricity run through the unfortunate sissy's body. Her body literally convulsed in that strange blend of pleasure and pain.
Madame lightly touched the recently liberated nipple and another jolt went through Prissy's slender girlish body. Never had the poor sissy felt anything so intense. Despite its imprisonment, a drop of sissy creamie-goo formed at the tip of his teapot.
She then licked and blew on the tormented teat, releasing still more sexual charges to the distended nubbin and yet more messies from Prissy's tessies.
Rudy's rooty-rammer hardened even more and Augusta's tiny panties visibly dampened.
"One more to go, my sweet," she cooed as she gently grasp the remaining clamp, teasing with it with her long red lacquered nail. One of Rudy's hands had come about Prissy's tittie and held her recently freed nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Prissy dared not budge a micron. His touch was pleasant, but any move would be most painful.
After what seemed hours, but only was a few minutes, Madame leaned forward, kissed Prissy on her rouged cheek and removed the clamp. Prissy was somewhat prepared this time and the anticipation was actually worse than the pain. Madame's mouth descended upon the second throbbing teat and Prissy experience a rush like she had never felt before. Precious body fluids generously flowed from all three parties.
Rudy's other hand went down to Prissy's peenie tip, and he said, "Augusta, you were right. The little slut is gushing, despite the chastity tube. These little minx's are just amazing, aren't they?"
"The gift that keeps on giving as Wilhelmina Waxwell always says," she replied. "Well, enough fun for now. Time the spank the little tramp. Rudy, please take her over your knee. No need to remove her panties, they're all bared and ready, as you discovered, and re-discovered throughout dinner. They should present a perfectly framed target for your manly ministrations.
Still holding Prissy's beleaguered nipple and confined cockette, the well-rooted Rhammar man lend Prissy to a nearby straight chair and effortlessly lifted her into position. His lap was massive; his rammer even more so.
"My dear Augusta," he inquired as his man-meat throbbed under Prissy's belly, "how many?"
"Oh, Rudy you know I can't be bother with those things. Let's go by color. Do you see the red satin tabs on my garter belt's suspenders?" she said as she seductively opened her robe and toyed with a tab.
Rudy nodded with obvious male appreciation of a perfectly turned out woman.
She smiled back as she continued to play with her garter belt, "Well, my dear, I think a red matching my lingerie trim would be an adorable color on the sissy's bum, don't you? Do be sure to give her a nice even flush. It will contrast perfectly with her panty trimmings."
"My pleasure, Madame!"
'Whack.'
Followed by five more before Prissy could catch her breath - not that screaming was possible in her ball gag. Prissy was even denied any form of struggle due to her fetters and Rudy's strong arm holding her in place. The poor dear's kicking was limited to only a few inches, but it was much appreciated by the other parties.
Sharp contact pain changed to burning as the spanking progressed. Mr. Rhammar was far stronger than the women who had previously spanked Prissy, and he was demonstrably expert in the art.
Prissy, of course, failed to notice the change in her demeanor. However, neither Rudy nor Augusta missed a beat - as it were.
As the spanking progressed, Prissy began to rock from side to side on Rudy's lap. Her totally helpless predicament together with the feeling of Rudy's estimable 'equipment' under her and the friction against her hyper-sensitive nipples was all too much for the sissy to resist.
Simply stated, she had entered subbie space. And truth be known, her peenie was again leaking even as her cute little feet and arms flayed about in their restraints.
Next week Doctor Cutwell would be most interested in, and pleased with, the video tape.
To be continued...
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You may reach me at prissysissystevie@yahoo.com if you so desire. I would love to hear from you.
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