Fairyfield Grange

by Jason Argo

 

part 1

 

The young schoolgirl is wearing a gymslip of such a dark shade of blue it appears almost black. She is bending forward and stretching across a small table that boasts a cover of purple chenille, resting the flattened palms of her hands on the hard surface and pressing one side of her flushed face between them. The back of her skirt as been folded up to her waist and her white cotton knickers have been lowered to mid-thigh. Behind her stands a thin-faced woman in a white blouse and black skirt, hair combed back and fastened behind her head in a severe style. In one hand she wields a well-worn rubber soled plimsoll which she strokes playfully across the child's naked bottom.

Meagre fingers of gauzy sunlight penetrate the room through tall windows draped with thick serge hangings. Dark portraits gaze down from dim blue flocked-velvet walls upon ponderous Victorian furniture made of mahogany so dark it looks black in the gloomy light. Nearby the even beat of a clock ticking on a carved mantle shelf seems to take on the role of heartbeat to a life-sized terracotta statue of a Greek Adonis standing adjacent to the bleached oak fireplace. Beyond the window the windswept Yorkshire fells, dun-coloured, bleak and forbidding pose as a backdrop to a garden where winter lingers, moist and cold, the beech trees stripped of leaves and the grass of the lawn standing stiff and dry.

"How many did we say?" asks the woman.

The girl's eyes flicker fearfully. She is barely twelve years old, her face round, smooth and delicate with a pert nose that as not yet been visited by the defining characteristics of adolescence. Her eyes are bright and clear, and she is blessed with an exceedingly soft, sensual mouth, dimpled each side.

She nervously glances up over one shoulder. "Oh, er, please Miss, s-six."

"Um, you'll need to keep count for me in case I forget. Up on your toes, show me how brave you are."

Taking a step to the side the woman carefully gauges the distance between herself and the girls defenceless posterior, waiting while the unhappy child pushes up on her toes to present her nicely rounded target before raising the gym-shoe and bringing it down in a calculated arc.

Smack! A sharp noise as rubber meets flesh, and the child utters a choking sob as a swathe of tender skin on the under curve of her unprotected buttocks rapidly turns red.

"I didn't hear you count. You can count, can't you?" the woman remarks icily.

The young buttocks squirm, and then settle. "Y-yes, Miss Hancock. S-sorry.

One, Miss."

"Too late, we'll have to start again," the woman's voice snaps with irritation, "Up on your toes - push it out."

Crack! "Ooouf! One, oooh, ooh!" Smack! "Aaah, aaah! Two. Ooh , my bum!" The buttocks jerk left to right as if pre-empting the next stroke and already trying to dodge it.

"Oh, do keep still you silly thing." The shoe sizzles through the air to deliver another stinging blow. Wallop! Feet turn inward as two bare knees almost cave in.

"Oow! Thr-three Miss. Oh, it stings, Miss."

"Of course it hurts a little bit. I'd be wasting my time with you if it didn't."

On the edge of the table a phone trills and with a tut of annoyance the woman reaches out for it and signals the girl to stand. "Don't wander away, I haven't finished with you yet." she remarks coldly to the child as she lifts the handset. A syncopatic smile replaces her scowl as she speaks into it.

"Fairyfield Grange, headmistress speaking." She listens for a moment then her voice oozes charm. "Yes, of course I remember, I mailed you our prospectus last week. I'm so pleased our academy for young ladies appears to suit your needs ..."

Under the watchful, intimidating glare of the woman's stare the girl stands silently at the end of the table squeezing her knees together in an attempt to prevent her knickers from sliding further down her legs. Her mouth contorts as she tries to suppress the raw, sore feeling of her backside and she spends a moment screwing the hem of her skirt around in her fingers before furtively reaching the back of it to ease her discomfort. The movement is instantly challenged. The woman clamps the receiver with her hand and hisses.

"For heavens sake leave yourself alone, child."

Startled, the girls hands return to where they can be seen, while quite unbidden her knickers slither to the tops of her knees.

"No, no," continued the woman to her caller, "It's vital they attend here before their thirteenth year. I like to have them early. It makes things that much easier and the instruction more permanent. Of course - the new term will begin in May. I prefer new-starters to arrive on the first weekend ... Yes, yes ... I'll look forward to meeting you."

Dropping the telephone back into its cradle the woman stares absently at it for a moment before her eyes flick back to the girl. "Now, where were we?"

The girls mouth quivers and she looks up with large damp eyes. "You've done three, Miss."

Miss Hancock's mouth distorts and she looks rather vague. "Three! Blame it on the interruption, but I don't recall giving you three. Never mind. It'll be tidier if we start from the beginning."

The girl seems fit to burst into tears, but with a sorrowful expression she shuffles forward to take up her previous position, and her underwear chooses that moment to drop around her ankles.

The woman shoves her forward and the girl utters a stifled protest and struggles briefly beneath the stern hand, but finally submits to being pressed down. Her dress is quickly raised up again, and from knee to waist is revealed a magnificent display of pale, youthful bare flesh of which a naked, rosy behind is the focal point.

Without the encumbrance of underwear to curb her stance the girl's young thighs spread slightly as they meet the edge of the table, and between the legs appears the pendant dangle of a pink scrotum to betray that she is not really female at all.

 

Miriam Hancock's idea of establishing a school blossomed when William visited, an event that brought an end to weeks of prevarication. Shortly before his arrival in the Easter school recess of 1975 an ancient great-uncle on Miriam's maternal side had died, and being unmarried and childless and without any closer relative, she had been the sole beneficiary in his will. Although the old man left little money she found herself to be the owner of the large, rambling country mansion of Fairyfield Grange.

The drawback to her seeming good fortune was only realised when she found the house to be a dilapidated monster standing isolated in a swathe of remote and almost featureless Yorkshire moorland, and for some time she'd been at a loss to know what to do for the best.

Jennifer, her daughter, insisted that the most sensible thing would be to sell the property for what she could get and move somewhere smaller, but to Miriam that would have been tantamount to giving up a dream she'd long cherished. Fairyfield was perfect for her. It was the realisation of a fantasy. Given some effort she was certain its decay could be reversed and it could look grand in aspect and magnificent inside. The overwhelming yearning in her heart was more than simple pride, she had a fierce desire to seek some eminence that would blot out her humble origins.

She had attended a good school when a girl; yet she had too many memories of her mother and father looking awkward and out of place among the well-bred, genteel parents of her fellow pupils. She'd always longed to be genteel too, and ownership of a fine imposing property such as Fairyfield Grange could make it all happen. She just knew it could.

A defunct marriage had settled on her a small regular allowance, but she could not live well with her two children in a house of such monstrous dimensions on a meagre stipend, and the expense of refurbishment precluded the fulfilment of her dream until her nephew arrived.

William's parents lived abroad and his vacations from boarding-school were usually taken with his grandmother in Brighton. Pensive and slightly built, that year he'd looked forward to ringing the changes with a holiday in the countryside. Since the railway reorganisation of the 1960s no train had been anywhere near Fairyfield Grange, so his aunt met him with her car at the train-station in Castleford. He found her not the least bit fluffy pretty or pert, in fact she was rather rangy and tall, but there was an intangible something about her that demanded attention. No gesture, however impatient, seemed to dishevel her, for she was one of those women who looked eternally well groomed, no matter what the circumstance. In racing parlance she had the look of a thoroughbred, a patrician of good breeding and refinement, imperious, distant and demanding of respect.

It took quite some time to drive to her home, but the journey gave him the opportunity to get his first look at the Yorkshire dales. It seemed like an alien landscape, in some places showing no evidence of the hand of man, just miles of heather, peat hags and bog pools with black water rippling and tufts of high rushes swaying in an eternal sweeping wind. It was all so different to the countryside around his school in Middlesex it seemed to auger the start of a wonderful adventure, but on arriving at Fairyfield he found a family of rather odd people in a very odd house.

Set in private grounds the house itself was a decrepit monument to bygone elegance, a vast three storey structure with a steep roof that his aunt couldn't afford to maintain or repair. Life for her family was confined to a few rooms in one of the wings where they were catered for by a housekeeper called Gloria, a bulbous woman with thick shapeless legs showing beneath the skirt of a shapeless dress.

Then there was Aunt Miriam's daughter, his teenage cousin, Jennifer. A quirkish girl if ever there was one. Attractive to look at - a flawless complexion, large gypsy eyes and slim figure - yet unwilling to put any of her charms to work. Her manner was disconcertingly blunt. Vain and brittle, her mouth smiled a kind of perpetual insincerity that made him squirm. Initially she ignored him, and he felt oddly glad about that.

There was no evidence of an uncle, or any other man about Aunt Miriam's home. She never mentioned whom her husband had been, so William assumed he must have disappeared long ago - so long ago that his aunt now insisted on being addressed as, Miss Hancock.

William was twelve years old, so fresh in form and face he usually found winning friends easy, but it was only the presence of Aunt Miriam's son Archie that saved his vacation from becoming a disaster.

Boys who are attracted to other boys can intuitively identify each other at a single glance - perhaps it stems from the shine in their eyes, or maybe it's something about their wistful smiles - whatever it is, so it was with Archie and William. From the moment they met there was a warm affinity between them, and Archie was exactly the companion a boy needed to make a stay at Fairyfield bearable.

Nearly a year older than himself and two inches taller, Archie was a lively and easy going character, valued in the rugby team at his prep school, and vice-captain of the cricket XI, and to William, who lacked any kind of sporting flair himself, that made him a hero from the start. Archie was academically sound too, and had been proposed for the Examination for Common Entrance to public school. Handsome to look at with honey-coloured skin and dark eyes, he could be moody at times, but his temper was never as cutting as his elder sister's.

It never occurred to William that Archie was as much in awe of Jennifer as he was himself.

Later, when his cousin proposed an expedition to explore the vast unused portion of the old mansion William felt a twinge of unease. He knew nothing about old houses, but he'd noticed a mildewy smell whenever he went further than his aunts apartments, so he was certain this one wasn't meant to provide comfort. The enormity of the place filled him with awe. It was so big. There were no sounds inside, and the smell of wax and dry dust presented a peculiar mustiness that hinted of windows long shuttered and of cloistered, airless rooms.

There was something oppressive about the immense empty entrance hall and the winding corridors that drifted through the house. The chill dark rooms with lofty ceilings and heavy old furniture were secretive places redolent of neglect, and gave out an aura of hidden mystery. It could have been haunted. It was certainly a place to be tortured in, incarcerated in, go mad in. Its gaping maw of a front door was obviously designed never to let people escape; a traitors gate, a mouth of hell. When it had been first built he was sure gangs of gnarled hunchbacks would have been installed on the roof to hurl down bucketful's of noxious fluids onto the heads of visitors below. It was that kind of place.

"I don't like walking around this horrible, spooky old house." he owned-up after a while.

"What would you rather do?" Archie asked.

"Maybe we should go out in the sunshine." he replied lamely.

It may have been his nervous hesitance that encouraged Archie to hold his hand, which he loved. When the older boys fingertips brushed his own and took a grip a breath caught in his chest. There were things about such a gesture that could sometimes make a young boys bones melt. Holding hands was so intimate and said so many things that were difficult to put into words. He gloried in it and it made him feel special.

Archie lead him on down another dingy passageway, then stopped quite abruptly and pushed him gently against a wall, startling him by sliding his hands up each side of his body and pressing them under his arms. William was a boy with perfectly pure features, pale roses in his cheeks, dark, long eyelashes, tawny hair and great brown eyes like those of a puppy, and to Archie he really was something special.

"You're gorgeous. Absolute sugar on a stick," he said without being the least bit timid, "I bet you're a right tease with the boys at school."

William became anchored to the spot, heart leaping as Archie's incredible admiring eyes aroused nerve endings over his entire body. His soft cheeks developed a crimson tinge and he smiled shyly. "I don't tease anyone on purpose."

A breathy gasp escaped his mouth as he felt thumbs stroke the front of his shirt in the vicinity of his nipples, then his cousin casually reached up to trail a finger along his jaw, following the combination of soft texture and young boy curves before suddenly pressing his own body against him.

Without any other preliminary he began to feast on William's neck, sucking on it like a baby, and the younger boy could only whimper helplessly when his cousin's teeth nipped at the white, creamy skin of his throat.

With his mouth fully employed Archie dragged his fingers over the front of William's shirt, fumbling a little in his own excitement as he pushed it higher and exposed the flat of his stomach. William breathed heavily, but didn't stop the shirt being unbuttoned and it was soon hanging loose. Then Archie's tongue traced a path along the lads collarbone while one hand slued up to stroke a tiny, exposed nipple. That made the younger boy moan and writhe. Only twelve, but already with nipples that swelled to an intimate caress.

"Nice!" Archie whispered as he smoothed a hand down William's arm and reached behind to caress the round of his bottom.

"Stop it." William puffed meekly.

"Make me," Archie replied, "If you don't like what I'm doing, make me stop."

He looked into the younger boys face, and William gazed back at him with starry eyes as he tilted up his mouth. There were no more protests. His mood was one of soaring excitement, and although he raised his head and inched back, he left his hands on Archie's shoulders, reluctant to break the link between them completely.

Their faces drew together gain and this time their lips met, and instantly astral violins seemed to be playing the sensual symphony of a first kiss. William felt Archie sucking at his mouth - strongly- draining the strength out of him and making him feel weak, and unconsciously he slid one hand into his handsome cousin's fine blond hair and wrapped his other arm around his shoulder. The boys body pressing against his bare skin felt sensual.

Archie clutched William's slight body to his firm chest. "Give in to me," he demanded.

William couldn't answer, he could only gasp aloud and open his mouth wider as his cousin leaned into him. The smoothness of the other boy's lips were rewarded by the eagerness with which their kisses were returned. He was ready to allow Archie every kind of liberty. The two boys cocked their heads to the right and then to the left as they kissed again, exchanged kiss after kiss, each one more passionate than the last. Through the front of his summer shorts William could feel some of the possibilities that Archie offered as he rubbed against him. He was as aroused as he was himself, and he had plenty to offer.

Their breathing became deeper and faster as they both began to caress each others backs, running their hands under their shirts and over each others warm, smooth skin. William's stiff young cock throbbed as he allowed his cousin's tongue to press between his lips and enter his mouth, and as it licked over his gums and teeth and ran over his own tongue, he felt as if he could easily swoon. Archie really wanted to do stuff, he really did, and he wanted to do it too. One could only guess at what would have happened next if Gloria hadn't suddenly come shouting them both in for dinner.

 

Thoroughly smitten by his intrepid cousin William was pleased to be sat next to him during the evening meal, and he felt further flattered when Archie's hand tickle his bare knee beneath the table. He shivered a little, but didn't object even when the caressing intruded further up - up the leg of his shorts and onto his inner thigh. Instead he'd offered an intimate little smile that meant more than words.

It was during that under-the-table joust that his own hand had become acquainted with the gorgeous rocket shape inside his cousins pants, and the large proportions of the unseen stiff cock were enough to make colour rush to his cheeks.

Aunt Miriam gave them no chance to be together afterwards, but thrilled by his cousins attention, he went to bed with excitement straining in his pants and a multitude of wild thoughts churning in his mind. What would happen tomorrow when he and Archie could shroud themselves in the solitude of the moorland? Ever since he was small, he'd known that such affairs should have a kind of order to them. First one had to find a girl you liked - he blushed slightly even though he was alone - 'or a boy'! You talk with the person, then date them, and then ask them to be your boyfriend. And then of course comes all the 'other stuff'.

Stroking himself vigorously beneath the bedclothes he dwelt on the possibilities. He knew that wasn't likely to be the order of events with his cousin. Archie would be impatient and want to kiss him again straight away. Mmm, yes! He'd probably pull his shirt open just like he'd done earlier.

He'd probably squeeze his chest, kiss his chest. "Ooow!"

Archie was much more knowing than he was. He could sweep a boy like himself right off his feet. If Archie grabbed hold of him and squeezed, he'd squeal, and if he started to unbutton his pants he'd say NO! But just like as had happened earlier he wouldn't try to stop him. He'd let gorgeous Archie pull down his pants, let him play with his willy, touch his bottom. He'd let him DO things. Together they'd play the kind of boys games mothers and fathers were never told about. Mouth on mouth, cock on cock, balls rolling together.

As his Technicolor imagination and caressing hand brought his young penis to the pinnacle of erection he heard movement beyond the bedroom door. Predicting it could only be Archie coming to share a few more intimate hugs and caresses with him he didn't even bother to cover himself properly. The door to his room swung open without even a warning tap, and his awful cousin Jennifer strode in to glare down at him.

In alarm he fumbled for words. "Jen ... what ...?"

She bothered with neither explanation or apology, but at once dragged the sheets that covered him down to expose the tops of his legs. His young thighs were smooth and hairless, but such an indication of immaturity was a contradiction to the swollen, stiffness of the penis blatantly thrusting up and glistening wet at its tip.

"Thought so!" she sneered, "Disgusting little tosspots like you are always full of dirty thoughts and can't leave themselves alone."

"Jennifer, I wasn't ..."

"Liar!" The girls gypsy looks and arctic demeanour cut him short. "It was I that told Archie to stroke you under the table this evening. I wanted to confirm you were the drippy kind of pansy I reckoned you to be, and my brother always does as I tell him."

William blushed deep with embarrassment, but before he was able to cover himself again the girl's hand swung down to deliver a sharp slap to his penis with the flat of her fingers, then she backslapped it for good measure. The boy winced in discomfort, and the impudent pride of his flesh at once collapsed.

"Fairies such as you always need a lesson or to two in better behaviour," she told him curtly. "Meet me in the garden tomorrow. Come down before breakfast, and don't keep me waiting." Her eyes held him with their stare. "You won't make me wait, will you?"

With trepidation that bordered on terror the boy gazed back at her pathetically. "N-no Jennifer. I promise."

"Just wear a T-shirt and your summer shorts, nothing else. Understand?"

"Yes, Jennifer."

A commitment having been extracted the girl at once wheeled about and departed, leaving William shocked, quite bewildered and absolutely spoiled for continuing what he'd begun as a pleasure.

 

Early the following morning he tipped himself from his bed in something of a panic. His sleep had been shallow and constantly ruined by visions of his female cousin's threatening eyes, and although there was little chance of him being late for his appointment with her he wasn't about to trust to luck.

Gathering up a T-shirt and a pair of shorts from the back of a chair he shucked them on with preoccupied carelessness before bungling barefoot down the stairs. As he let himself out into the garden at the rear of the house he had no idea of the agenda concerning him that had been agreed by the women the previous evening, and he was innocent of the fact that his early morning foray into the garden provided the opportunity to implement it.

The sky was bright, the grass was green, and martins sat under the eves of the old house just as they were always accustomed to do in midsummer. The dry warm smell of new mown hay from farms miles away drifted on the early morning air and somewhere in the distance a dog barked. Closer at hand what had once been a vegetable garden was now covered by an ill-maintained lawn. Behind it, by a broken fence stood a sagging glasshouse and several broken cucumber frames grown over with weeds, while nearer, huge stems of grounsel poked up through splashes of purple aubrietia and pink saxifrage and an old rockery boasted nothing more than buttercups and sprouting dog thistles.

The dew had already dispersed and the grass was warm beneath his bare feet, but such workaday sensations diminished in his mind as he found himself staring at Jennifer. She was exercising with a pair of dumbbells, swinging and swaying lithely as she put herself through what was clearly a regular morning routine, but it was the clothes she wore, or more properly, her scarcity of clothes that stole his breath. She was wearing a bikini of such skimpy proportions he felt stunned, and although he knew it was rude to stare he couldn't take his eyes away from her. Jennifer was well made and good looking - good looks seeming to be a Hancock trait. She may have been rather willowy for some peoples taste, but her thighs were gently rounded and her stomach flat, while her small breasts rode high and firm on a rather muscular chest. The suppleness of motion and swathes of bare skin all gave an impression of sinewy fitness that was not unfeminine and was rather shapely.

William had attended a boys-only residential school for as long as he could remember, and a monk-like existence hadn't prepared him for large expanses of exposed female flesh. Feeling guilty, feeling a tremor of terror as his puberty began to respond to the sight, but unable to ignore her, his brain desperately scrambled to think what to do next.

"Quite a lovely morning, isn't it. " he said quickly, "I think it's going to be a nice day, don't you?"

Jennifer observed him casually, her finely etched features betraying nothing of her thoughts.

"I'm not a weather vane." she replied coldly.

He tried to ignore the scorn in her tone, but even so a creepy foreboding assaulted his senses.

"I-Ive come like you said I should."

One corner of the girl's mouth turned down. "You're leering at me, you disgusting boy. Have you never seen a girl in a bikini before?"

"Oh - um - Only in photographs. I've never seen a real girl in a swimsuit as near as you are."

She propped her hands on her waist in an inherently masculine pose that accentuated her broad shoulders and the imposing strength in her arms, then she manufactured an odd sort of smile and glared at him hard. "Staring is bad manners, and boys who stare at me learn to regret doing it. Come here you little pervert, come closer."

It occurred to William her voice wasn't kind. It oozed acid and her smile was a dangerous one. He suddenly froze, his feet leaden, his heart racing, and his gaze passed over the curves of her near naked body to the short cascade of brown hair that framed a face that was almost stark in the bright morning light. Her eyes flashed up and down and she looked angry.

His lack of motion roused Jennifer into moving herself. Suddenly fuming, she dumped the dumbbells on the ground and stormed towards him in quick, purposeful strides. "Do you think you can beat me in a fight? Because you're going to get one if you ignore what I say."

She leaned forward, her height putting her a whole head above him and he had to tilt his face up to remain in eye contact.

He gulped. He was old enough to resent being ordered around by a girl, but she was taller than he was and while his own arms were still rail-like Jennifer's had the undulating athletic prowess bestowed by regular workouts with her dumbbells. He shook his head. "No, I don't think I could, Jennifer. Please don't be angry."

The girl pulled up short of grabbing him by the hair and merely splayed her fingers against her shapely thighs. She didn't move closer or touch him, yet he felt the breadth and power of her hovering and circling.

"Well, just remember that, and remember that any more sloven attention to what I say will make me loose my temper, and I'll slap your face until you cry." Her eyes then narrowed into a sly glimmer and she inclined away slightly. "Come over to the seat with me." she told him, indicating a sheltered recess between two huge rhododendron bushes at the end of the garden. A splendid beech tree stood there, its branches dipping to the ground to give shade to an ancient sun-bleached garden bench.

When her young cousin inched forward too slowly to please her she grasped his arm and dragged him forcefully. "Don't sit down. The seat is for me and I want you to stand." she told him crisply. The girl perched and leaned casually back as if she owned the world, her slender teenage legs stretching ostentatiously in front, the tiny bikini pants emphasising the swell of her hips and her muscular thighs, while the skimpy matching top revealed a tantalising proportion of her young breasts.

William felt utterly out of his depth in her company. She was lovely, yet awesome and frightening, and her steely gaze encouraged his wits to desert him. He half turned and contemplated running away, but she leaned forward, grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him closer. Protests sprang into his mouth, but her powerful grip made him feel weak and he remained silent.

"It'll be better for you if you do as I say, I think your beginning to understand that, aren't you?" the girl muttered.

He blanched. "Yes, I understand," he nodded, desperately seeking a way out from the mesmerising spell she had on him. "I'm sorry if I was rude staring at you, and I'm sorry if I was naughty last night."

"Well said, you're making a good start." Jennifer replied generously. She regarded him up and down for a moment. His eyes were clear, sublime, startlingly blue, generously revealing a hint of the person inside. Lips soft and sensuous, shaped too much like those of a girl. "Bit of a pansy, aren't you?"

"A pansy?"

"It's a term people use. It means you're something of a glitter-boy - rather effeminate."

Eventually her gaze settled on the front of his shorts. "Show me your prick!"

The boy gaped in disbelief at the demand and hoped he'd misheard what she'd said.

"Do as I say. Show me your prick, stupid." She repeated it, displaying the confidence of one whose authority was indisputable.

William shuddered and whinnied in alarm. "Oh - I mustn't do that. Someone else may see."

"Never mind other people," she replied coldly, "No one can see us from the house, so just pay attention to me. Show it to me. Show me your prick!"

Trapped by her unremitting insistence the boy gingerly unbuttoned his fly and reached in to lift out his penis. Shame and Jennifer's chill manner destroyed any excitement he'd previously felt and it hung down the outside of his pants limp and unimpressive.

The girl arrested a thrill and cautioned herself not to hurry. It was more enjoyable if she could spin things out. She had a 12 year old boy lewdly showing himself right in front of her, and it would be wasteful not to extend the wonderful sense of lascivious power she had over him. "Uph! Just as I thought - it's only a fat white slug when your not jiggling it." she remarked scornfully. "You're a predictable disappointment. Get the rest out. Move that ridiculous worm out of the way and let me see the hang of your balls."

His testes were nicely dropped and the sight of his small, pale scrotum hanging out the front of his shorts seemed to pacify her for a moment, unfortunately things didn't remain placid for long.

"Get your pants off." she ordered.

William looked at her, horrified. "What are you going to do?"

Jennifer gave him a measured stare. "Don't ask questions or I'll lose patience with you. You'll suffer a smacked face or a smacked bottom, but be assured you'll know fewer tears if you get your pants off. So get them off, NOW!"

Without even thinking of further protest William hurried to do as she demanded, but as usual Jennifer's hands were quicker than his own and he wriggled uncomfortably as she tugged the garment down his legs. Being manhandled by her suddenly brought a little strength back to his penis, and Jennifer's mouth curled in a wry kind of amusement.

"Why yes, it was to be expected. You really are a naughty boy after all, and you're in need of a smacked bottom. Only disgusting boys show themselves like that to girls."

"Oh, but ..." His thoughts skipped about wildly and the blood quickened in his veins.

"Stretch across my lap," Jennifer crooned in a cavernous voice, "At once. Do it now."

The boys bare buttocks swivelled skittishly, but despite being hot with shame he lowered himself over her unclad thighs and reached down to support himself with his hands on the ground. Legs straight, bottom clenched, he felt his scrotum and waving penis settle onto the bare warm skin of the girls loins.

"You position yourself so precisely, it makes me suspect you've been over a few people's knees in the past." murmured Jennifer with a mocking smile.

The sound of her words skittered along his spine and William's face suddenly flushed a deeper colour. "No, no. I promise I haven't, honestly." He protested with as much indignation he felt able to muster, while ignoring his experiences at school with Swancombe the sports master and old Jacoby the music teacher, and those with his grandmother in Brighton.

Unseen by him in his face down pose his cousin dipped her hands into the cups of her bikini top and lifted her teenage breasts into daylight. She had a prefect juvenile bosom, the two soft round orbs sitting high on her chest, smooth and creamy and pink tipped. He lips became suddenly moist as she caressed them thoughtfully, enjoying the tension she found in the spiking nipples. She was pleased that other people thought her handsome and imposing, but she knew her clipped manner and piercing eyes could never be described as pretty. She had a young desirable body though, and it was fine if the males of the species lusted after her flesh, even if she'd not yet met one worthy of touching it. Certainly clumsy schoolboys weren't worthy. Their only purpose was to amuse her, and she found the view of William's naked bottom submissively awaiting her attention rather stimulating.

"Now then my little cousin, just let me have your hand." His right hand was pulled up behind his back, "And now just let me arrange you ..." Two bare knees slid about beneath his belly and nudged embarrassingly against his penis. He was feeling helpless and ridiculous, but Jennifer held his arm firmly and laughed as she scooped his T-shirt up to his waist.

Tucking the bikini top under her breasts to accentuate their thrust she paused a moment to roll the tender malleable flesh of the boys bottom in her hands. It was small, round and shapely with a smooth creamy texture, and she couldn't resist running her fingers fingertips across the soft flesh and gently pinching it. William didn't resist her insolence so she released the grip on his arm slightly to gauge his reaction. He remained still, so she patted the small, plump cheeks with a modicum of affection. There was a fascination among some people for smacking girl's bottoms, but for her young boys bums were just as smackable. They were equally attractive, equally enticing, and just as quick to turn rosy.

Feeling sufficiently aroused she raised one hand in the air while clamping the other over the boys hip to hold him in place. "A pretty bum, perfect and white," she observed, "It'll look even prettier with some colour."

The raised hand descended and struck William's right buttock soundly. Crack!

"Yeow!" The first solid spank took him completely unawares, his bottom shivered beneath its impact and a hot smarting tingle raged on his exposed rear.

"Good boy! Just be a good boy now." Jennifer urged warmly.

The boys round beautiful cheeks bobbed up and down invitingly as she slapped again. "Ooo!" William yelped suddenly as her hand landed on his silky flesh with another brisk crack! She gripped his arm to head off any resistance, but he made no effort to struggle so her hand relaxed again and stroked caressingly up his forearm as her other hand patted a few practise shots before lathering the bouncing flesh with a shower of sharp, painful whacks. Smack! On the left. "Ooouf! And the soft smooth flesh became blotched with red.

"This will teach you to be respectful. You will learn," And the hand arced down to deliver another wallop, the stinging blow so sudden that William kicked up a heel. The girl's arm went up and down rapidly as she increased the tempo. Crack! On the left buttock, smack! On the right, making each mound of the unclad bottom wobble delicately.

Despite his past experiences William had never got used to being spanked. Every time seemed to come as a surprise, and every subsequent sizzling swat seemed to be as keen as the first. Soon he was struggling and kicking frantically on her lap and trying his uttermost to avoid the unavoidable, his uncontrolled squirming causing his legs to spread open to allow his tormentor a view of his soft scrotum flattened against the top of her leg.

"Naughty boy!" Jennifer admonished icily as the flat of her hand bounced up from each impact. Splat! On the left. Whack! On the right. "Dirty little wanker - you will- you will learn!" Smack! Wallop! And the once pale bottom cheeks were now a fiery red.

William yelled bawled and finally blubbered, his bum twitching and jerking in an irregular rhythm as the girl concluded the though spanking she'd longed to give it since she'd first viewed its teasing outlines.

Warm and sated Jennifer stayed her hand at last and tucked away her breasts, only then allowing William to scramble to his feet. The boys knees scissors as he stood up and his hands clamped to his posterior as he desperately sought to disperse the fierce smarting on the rounds of his buttocks. It wasn't only tears of pain that wet his eyes, there were tears of humiliation too. Spanked on the bum like a baby - by a girl! He couldn't understand why he'd let it happen. Then as he thought to pick up his shorts his cousin compounded his shame by putting her foot on them.

"Go back to the house without your pants." she told him loftily.

"B-but Gloria and aunty and even Archie may be up by now. I can't ..." The girl reached out and tore a switch from a low hanging bough of the beech tree, then cut it through the air with a mean scything stroke. Her obvious threat immediately galvanised William and he fled, dashing towards the house as fast as he could, his hands desperately trying to ward of the swipes Jennifer levelled at his bare bottom as she pursued him. Penis swinging beneath the hem of his T-shirt like a clapper on a bell he plunged in through the garden window only to find his greatest dread awaiting him. Aunt Miriam was standing in the conservatory.

"William! What on earth are you doing running around without any pants?"

"Jennifer - s-she spanked me in the garden." he blurted out as his face turned as red as his bottom.

"Two sets of cheeks aglow! Quite a picture." his aunt quipped. "I'm afraid I'm not about to give you any sympathy. Boys who allow girls to smack them deserve everything they get."

His dreadful cousin came in behind him. "He leered at me in my swimsuit, mummy, then he took out his willy and waved it around. He's a vile boy and I had to punish him." A hard shove in his back displayed the scorn she felt. "Go and stand in the corner, cry-baby. Face the wall and don't turn around until you're told."

William felt just brave enough to look over his shoulder, and he knew right away by Jennifer's fixed expression and the disconcerting disinterest of his aunt that it was hopeless to try and resist. He stumbled away to obey, and stood in the corner facing the wall, sheepish eyes cast down in shame. He didn't see the smug expression playing around his cousin's mouth or the tiny gleam of malicious satisfaction in her eyes as she gazed at her mother.

"This cutipie kicks and squeals like a little girl when he's spanked, mummy.

He is suitable, isn't he? He's just right. Do let me use him."

Miriam replied only with a feint smile. Jennifer had managed him so easily. A calm, persuasive voice heavy with authority and a few well applied smacks from a forceful girl was all it took to subjugate her dear little nephew. It would be a wasted opportunity to leave things just like that, and she did like to indulge Jennifer's enthusiasm.

She seated herself thoughtfully in a chair while her daughter took a moment to rebuke the boy for trying to haul his shirt down to cover his bottom. "Stop fidgeting - put your hands on your head." She then turned to her mother and appeared to forgo awaiting any approval. "Gloria's got all the stuff ready. I just need to go and get it."

Miriam's eyes followed her daughter as she left the room, and pride illuminated her face. So thin, she thought to herself, too thin for my liking. But then, she always had been on the lean side so that must be the way she's meant to be. A leggy colt as a child, a racehorse now. Even with Jennifer out of the room William didn't chance turning around, but he found the courage to test the only route he could see out from the intolerable situation he found himself.

"Aunty Miriam, will you stop Jennifer being horrid to me? I really don't think she should be punishing me like she is."

Miriam Hancock smiled coolly, straightening her back and crossing her legs to adopt her usual posture, a posture that was contained and regal. One elegant eyebrow, a darker black than her dark, clubbed hair, arched above her sceptical gaze. There was an imperious quality in the way she held her head, and her eyes glistened with alert attention. "Punish! William. Whatever do you mean, my dear?" She leaned back as if passing a comment on the weather. "You're not being punished. The very idea! No, no. It's just a matter of including you in the routine we practise here. You need to be taught about obedience."

"But aunty, I am being obedient, really I am, but Jennifer's still going to punish me some more, I just know she is."

Miriam contemplated his spanked bottom leisurely. Smooth, round and perfect, enhanced by a delicious deep blush courtesy of Jennifer's hand. Something inside her stirred, and if she, who was pure in heart could feel such a stirring she could imagine how the lustful would react. She could imagine how men without scruples would react to his undraped loveliness. "She must think that you're stubborn. Perhaps if you shed a few tears you could soften her heart."

The boy pouted. "She's already made me cry, and it didn't make any difference at all. It's just not fair."

It certainly wasn't fair, and all too soon Jennifer returned to demonstrate just how unfair things could be.

"Turn around William. I've brought some clothes for you to wear."

He was suspicious of the sudden sweetness of her voice, it screened her usual acid tone and made him waver. He turned about warily and at once saw the items she'd draped over the arm of an old chesterfield sofa. A short black underslip and a pair of dark nylon stockings - girls things!

"Put these on." Her voice snapped like a whiplash as she handed him a pair of tiny thong pants.

Stunned, his jaw dropped. "Oh no, I-I can't put any of that stuff on."

The girl loomed before him, her face dark with determination and the fingers of her hands clenching and unclenching like claws. Her voice snapped like a whiplash. "Pardon, William. I think I may have misheard you."

He shook his head. "But - but - they're girl's pants. I'm a boy, I don't wear girls clothes."

Jennifer's eyes widened maliciously and she grasped his wrist. "That's what I thought you said, and that's exactly the kind of arrogant, haughty male attitude that angers me. You squeal like a little girl and cry like a little girl, so I think you should spend some time dressed like one. Now, put them on."

They were only a few inches apart and she was easily able to reach down and grasp his scrotum, thumb and fingers encircling its root to squeeze and make the testicles bulge.

The boy winced and tried to break way, but her grip was tenacious and unerringly cruel.

"Give in, William. Things will be easier for you if you submit."

"No, I won't put on girl's clothes." he spluttered defiantly. The corners of the girls mouth twitched as she immediately inflicted such a sudden wicked half-twist to his genitals William produced a shrill shriek.

"You see! You must obey or you'll suffer."

"Aaaah! Okay, yes - yes, I'll do it."

Jennifer continued to hold him tight for a moment, using the fingertips of her other hand to lift his chin and enjoy his expression of bewilderment. "That's better," her voice cooed cruelly, "You know you'll have to do it eventually. There's no one to rescue you. No one to help - no one at all. So, no more wimpy bleating, right?"

William's head drooped and he nibbled his lip. "Yes, Jennifer. I'm sorry.

Please don't be cross with me again."

At last she released him and he shuffled forward, legs together. He didn't understand anything anymore., he didn't even know what day it was. He was only conscious of Jennifer's voice as she directed him to the sofa..

"Get the T-shirt off and put on some proper clothes. Mummy prefers daintily frocked nieces to grotty, tiresome nephews, so you're going to spend the rest of the day dressed as a girl."

Miriam watched without interrupting. Three years of marriage and the birth of two children had passed before she'd realised the male gender were a pack of inferiors who needed to be kept in their place. The practise of forcing boys to dress in girl's clothes as a form of discipline was nothing new and was a natural adjunct to the spanking delivered by a dominant female. Making them put on skirts and panties humiliated them wonderfully, and Jennifer was particularly good at making boys do that kind of thing, and since she did it with such aplomb it would have been quite wrong to interfere. The panties she encouraged William to step into and assisted in sliding up his legs at that moment were tiny thongs, flimsy teasers that struggled to cover his boyish charms at the front and disappeared into the crevasse of his bottom behind.

His faced reddened as he adjusted them. Oh, they felt unexpectedly nice, especially to a sensorily deprived boy such as himself. His little balls felt snug and the soft material rubbed them so beautifully. He didn't want it to happen, but his penis was filling with blood. If Jennifer saw ...

Jennifer barked a taunting laugh. "I thought you were a BOY, William. Boys shouldn't get stiffies when trying on girls underwear." She moved close and stroked a hand over his smooth buttocks. "Still, they are a perfect fit, and ideal if you're naughty and in need of a knickers-up spanking later on - and I've the perfect outfit to match them."

Young William remained dumb. The panties and the stroking had made him wiggle, and the wiggling had caused his little mushroom to pop out from the sleeve of his foreskin and rub against the inside of the pants. Despite his youthfulness he'd been having wet orgasms for ages, and he became terrified he'd do one right there where Jennifer and her mother could see. But Jennifer didn't appear to notice and he was so thankful for that he didn't even protest when she clipped a lacy black garter-belt about his waist.

Mother and daughter observed his legs as he seated himself in full girly mode to pull on the nylon stockings. The legs were hairless and quite shapely in a youthful, slender kind of way, and the stockings, though black, were so sheer they allowed the warm tan of his skin to show through. Miriam hoped her daughter had judged things right. Then she noticed how carefully William eased the delicate hose over his feet and how he intuitively pointed his toes to prevent his toenails snagging in the fine mesh.

Ah, yes she thought, hugging herself. His expression of alarm looked so cute as he stroked the delicate hose up his thighs, and the way he attached the dangling straps of the garter-belt hinted at a predilection that even he wasn't aware of yet. His skimpy pants had the cutest, firmest little bulge she'd seen in ages. He was going to make a lovely little niece.

When a dress was lowered over his head William's head he felt his heart begin to pound anew. His emotions stepped up and he began breathing raggedly as his thoughts whirled. He was being forced to dress up as a girl by females he hardly knew, and the embarrassment he felt was difficult to accept. The dress wasn't really a dress at all, it was really a short underslip, and since the bodice sheathed snug against his chest and there was no allowance for a bosom it was obviously intended for a small girl. As Jennifer adjusted the narrow straps that looped over his shoulders he noticed how perfectly the garment fitted in every diminution, as if his measurements were common knowledge.

The shoes were awkward, not because of there size but because of their style. They were chorus-line shoes with rather high heels and button-over straps; a conundrum to him until Jennifer pushed his hands away and fastened the buckles for him. When he stood up he wobbled precariously and held in a little gasp as the tiny skirt floated down to tickle his thighs.

"Oh yes!" approved Jennifer, "Quite the sweetest looking little sissy I've viewed in ages."

She grasped him by the waist and cooed softly. "Why, I do believe you've even got hips, darling. I bet you could swing them around as well as any real girl. Will you try for me? Will you try to be a lovely girl for me?"

"Oh, um - I, er - I-I suppose ... If-if I really have to."

The epitome of the harsh martinet Jennifer gazed down on him with a light of preponderance in her eyes. "Oh you really must if you don't want me to think you're a silly girl - a silly, bad girl who needs to go over my lap again. Ensuring you please me is the wisest thing for you today, and the most comfortable course for your pretty bottom too."

Oh dear! despaired William. It was going to be unbearably humiliating when Archie saw him dressed up as a girl.

Miriam Hancock suddenly felt herself fidgeting. Boys were so cute and appealing when they were made to wear girls clothes. She hated merely being a spectator while Jennifer was so engrossed in dressing him, but she drew back from spoiling the perfect display of domination her daughter promoted. Many of her dreams centred on Jennifer. Even when a little girl her daughter had gravitated naturally to her own way of thinking and had been oddly adept at sharpening Miriam's own vague ideas. It was electrifying to watch her sometimes. She was a doyen of hegemony, and even as a teenager she had a keen understanding of the male brain. Jennifer loved to lord it over boys and make plain her superiority, and naive young pups like William who were sensitive about anything that threatened their self-image of gender and developing manliness became her natural victims; easy prey to her crass predatory nature. Her greatest delight was to rip their self-esteem to shreds and emasculate them, and she did that by forcing them to dress as girls, making them wear stockings and suspenders and short little frocks. Once they succumbed to her dominance they were doomed. Shame dulled their wits, making them docile and susceptible to even more debasing demands. Eventually they could be reduced to effeminate, mincing girly-things with no thoughts of their own at all.

The process fascinated Miriam, but it could be lengthy, and it was her daughters game and one into which she loathed to encroach. The temptation to do so receded when she heard the tinkle of a bell at the front of the house.

Drat! she thought. It could only be the woman from the village who'd been pestering to visit ever since she'd moved in. Only uncouth rural people would think to call without prior arrangement on a Sunday.

She rose to her feet, a co-ordinated movement that blended grace and control, and entwined the fingers of her delicate hands. "I've a guest calling, Jennifer. Try to be discreet with your games until she's gone."

"Of course. Would you ask Gloria to send me the other one if you see her?"

 

William was so bewildered by events that the term other one didn't register in his mind until a few minutes later when the conservatory door opened with a wheezing squeak and a strange girl appeared in its open portal, the fresh glow of her face shining through a delicate mask of immaculately applied make-up. She was young, about his own age, with no visible bosom, with hair swept back and tied with a ribbon. The black satin underslip she wore was identical to his own, short, close fitting at the top and supported by slender straps little wider than spaghetti draped over sloping narrow shoulders. About her neck was fastened a black velvet choker, while from her ears hung tiny pendants of dark quartz.

William's heart skipped a beat and his young prickie lifted hard against his belly. She was an angel from heaven. Who was she? Then as the girl entered the room a terrible truth suddenly dawned on him.

"Archie!" he gasped. The girl was really his cousin.

"He's called Abigail when he's wearing girls stuff and being a sissy," Jennifer told him in a matter-of-fact way, "An abigail is an old fashioned word for a housemaid - a girl who always does as she's told. Do you think he's pretty?"

William blinked hard, trying to fan away his initial disbelief. "G-gosh, yes. Very pretty."

"Abigail's been trained to use cosmetics, and now I want him to beautify you." The girl gave her feminised brother a measured stare, which Archie returned with a subservient bat of eyelashes. "I'll allow an hour for you to use your girly magic on this creature. I want him looking as sweet as yourself when you're done, and if he's not, you'll take a turn over my knee."

 

As she made her way through the house towards the front parlour Miriam Hancock dwelt on the problems of remaining the owner of Fairyfield Grange. It was her dream to live there, it was her ambition to enter the ranks of the landed gentry, but the financial requirements required to accomplish such a thing were awesome.

She tried to see the house through the eyes of a prospective buyer, and when she thought about it her uncles bequest seemed like a millstone rather than a benefit. It wasn't in a good aspect for most people these days, most would balk at the idea of being stuck out on the moors, and few would be able to afford the expense of maintaining a home of such a size either. There were some urgent repairs needed, it needed redecorating throughout, and the garden would be a struggle to put right, so perhaps the best she could hope for was a reasonable price for the land.

Fairyfield Grange had become a sad husk of its original grandeur, and it saddened her when she thought of it. In the past there would have been legions of scurrying staff, crowds of boisterous visitors, gay parties, scandals and tragedies. The walls had so many stories to tell, all of them now covered up in the past and forgotten. Now it was suffering from long term neglect and was a wreck inside, nothing having been done for twenty years except for some patching of wallpaper. Some of the smaller rooms were stuffy and smelled of mildew, so thank goodness for Gloria, for in spite of the mustiness everything was clean and tidy. Gloria was a gem when it came to getting things dusted and arranged neat.

Dorothea Boroclough extended a small, plump hand to Miriam while critically studying the shabbiness of the parlour in which they stood. The worn Persian carpet, threadbare sofa and rickety lampshades did nothing to impress her, and she sniffed derisively before settling herself delicately into the seat of an armchair without waiting for the customary invitation. She was middle-aged with hair arranged in curls about her ears, and her grey eyes peered at everything through spectacles which were attached to a silver chain around her neck. Her clothes were severely styled and she wore no jewellery except a wedding band. The woman's name was often mentioned in Peasmarsh when Miriam went there. Her late husband had been something in a guilt-edged business, and she herself owned half the property in the village, so she was likely to be a force to be reckoned with.

"I must apologise for neglecting you, Mrs Hancock," the visitor began. Dorethea always addressed other women formerly, being of the opinion that her family were several cuts above any other in the area. She tried to make that evident from the start by never resorting to first names. First names made for unwanted familiarity. "You've been resident here for several weeks now and this is the really the first opportunity I've had to welcome you to the parish. I fully intended to call on you last weekend, but Lady Chance-Barton insisted I attended her garden party. What with that and the Easter festival and gymkhana, and then the Opton Point-to-Point I've been at my wits end lately to fit everything in."

Miriam smiled wryly. "You clearly lead a hectic life, Mrs Boroclough."

"Oh, but there's always something I'm being asked to organise. For my sins I'm a member of an old established family in the village, and people expect me to lead the way in everything."

People probably weren't given any choice in the matter, thought Miriam cynically. From the moment the woman had entered the house she'd exuded all the self-satisfied inferences and insincere platitudes of a full-time do-gooder. It was an attitude that declared pompously, 'I'm important, I command a lot of influence, and I know best. I'm a merciless critic of Commons immorality and double standards, and as a self-appointed champion of old family values I'm a fierce advocate of marital fidelity. I don't like bodies much, except when they form committees, but I make a point of knowing everything about everyone in the region.'

Yes, she thought, Mrs Boroclough was a Madam Squeaky-Clean (morning showers and clean pyjamas), and without doubt was going to be a pain in the arse.

"It must be a blessing for you to be tucked away in secluded retirement, Mrs Hancock." the woman remarked drily.

Miriam lifted her chin rather imperiously. "I'm not an old lady, and I don't consider myself retired yet - and please, would you call me Miss Hancock?"

Mrs Boroclough looked stunned. "Forgive me, I understood you to have two delightful children, so I thought ..."

Having already assessed her as chief nosey-Parker and head of the local tut-tut brigade Miriam explained quickly, and with some relish.

"I was married. Jennifer and Archie were both conceived and born in wedlock, and their father still pays generously towards their upkeep. The prefix of Miss is just a personal preference. To confuse things further, Hancock is my maiden name, although my mother was a Fairyfield prior to her own marriage." She managed a beguiling smile. "Can I offer you tea?"

"Do you have Earl Grey?"

"Er, no. But I buy a good brand from the store in the village."

Mrs Boroclough shook her head. "Earl Grey is the only infusion my digestion will tolerate I'm afraid." Having put that matter to rest she squared up in her chair. "I understand you held an appointment in Social Services before coming here, Miss Hancock. A noble vocation - so very worthy. It must have given great satisfaction to be in a position where you could provide succour to the less fortunate in society. Unfortunately there's no scope to continue such a career here on the moors. You would have to go into Castleford or Richmond to do that."

"I'm not sure what I'll do yet. There's this house to take into account."

"Yes, of course, you're stuck with Fairyfield Grange. It's such a monster of a run-down place, isn't it? All those rooms! It would cost the earth to have central heating installed, and without it it'll be hard to sell. What on earth do you intend to do?"

Miriam shrugged. "Uncle Albert never took to the idea of central heating, he preferred to keep the windows open and wear pullovers. Anyway, someone may like the idea of living with the original features and making do with portable fires. That's what I'd do. I'd like to hang on here if I can, you see. I'd like to refurbish the whole property and live here myself. That would be my idea of bliss."

Mrs Boroclough's expression became one of mild incredibility laced with amusement. "Goodness! You'd be taking on a mighty challenge Miss Hancock. My grandfather used to tell me of the wonderful activities staged here years ago; parties, pageants and balls quite on a par with those put on at Chance Hall he said - and he described the gardens as breathtaking in their splendour. But over the past twenty years everything as fallen into ruin. You'd need a veritable treasure chest to do the old place up, and I doubt you could ever revive the status it once enjoyed. It's a shame poor old Albert Fairyfield didn't have the head for managing money, or for maintaining such a fine place."

The woman's eyes ranged over the furnishings in the room with an air of disdain. "Your husband - ex-husband, may be generous for the sake of his children, but I doubt he can provide for you to live in decent style here. It's fortunate the Grange still as some - er - reasonably serviceable chairs worth using."

Having concluded her inventory her eyes snapped forward and offered an intense stare.

"Look, you're ten miles out from Peasmarsh and rather isolated here, so I'm sure you'd reap some benefit from attending the Women's Guild. It meets in the village hall on Mondays, and for my sins I'm the chairperson, so I can introduce you to Parson Roper - it's always worthwhile having the church on your side when you're new to a district - and I'm sure I can arrange for some of the ladies to help you out over what's bound to be an awkward time."

Miriam suddenly had a nauseating vision of being given piles of second hand blankets and tins of powdered milk a la Oxfam. Her jaw muscles tightened and she felt an impulsive reply form up in her head. She didn't want to be cross-examined by Mrs Boroclough or one of her committees. She didn't want to be patronised like a wayward orphan. She didn't belong to the wretched woman and had no intention of being influenced by her. Her life was her own, and as far as she was concerned Mrs Boroclough could simply fuck off.

She thought all that, but didn't say it. She felt obliged to smile sweetly, because an outright refusal would certainly be taken as a snub, and she'd enough problems to contend with without being ostracised by the most influential woman in the area.

She looked at her visitor narrowly. The apparent kindness was deceptive, she thought. It screened a swathe of small-minded rustic bigotry and was calculated to make her feel indebted. Proper and preachy and determined to get under her skin like an itch she couldn't reach, she sensed Mrs Boroclough wished to command her spirit and make her docile and sycophantic, just like every other woman who ventured into her company. That didn't suit Miriam Hancock at all.

 

When Jennifer went out onto the terrace William was nervous, but relieved to be with a boy his own age , even if that boy had been sissified just like himself. The two boys regarded each other and their feminine attire silently for a moment before Archie at last broke the tongue-tied awkwardness.

"Better make a start." he said, "If we loop a cord around your middle it'll give you something of a waist and make your skirt flare out more." His face was lovely and made to feminine perfection, and when he spoke his voice was in keeping with his sweet features. He seemed surprisingly calm about being made to wear a frock and lipstick, but full of doubt and unused to standing in shoes that raised his heels William sank down onto the Chesterfield. Frowning and biting his lip, his eyes followed his cousin across the room as he went to the sideboard, and he found himself gazing in wonder at the boys legs sheathed in sheerest black nylon. He couldn't deny his cousin looked good in a skirt and stockings, and the raised heels of girls shoes provided a sort of tension that gave the back of his legs a marvellous shape.

"Well, what do you think?" Archie asked when he returned to tie a velvet strap about his waist and then began brushing his blond locks with an onyx hairbrush. "Do you like the way your outfit feels?"

"No I don't. I hate it." he fumed. "I'm a boy and I don't want to wear dresses and girls underwear. Jennifer shouldn't be allowed to make me do it."

Archie unzipped a small red bag full of cosmetics. "Did you tell her that?"

"Yes, well sort-of, but she's awfully cruel. She nanny-spanked me over her knee in the garden, then nearly pulled my balls off a few minutes ago. Well I mean, that's not right is it? She's only a girl."

"She's sixteen and you're only twelve, and you're cute. You're just the type she likes to smack, and exactly the kind she likes to put in a skirt."

"It's degrading to make boys dress like this. Everyone will think we're weird, and it's all your fault for touching me under the table last night."

"You liked me touching you."

"Yes - well, but just look what's happened because of it. You've given Jennifer a chance to be a bully."

"She's always a bully, and she's awfully fierce, isn't she? She says she'll not marry until she finds a rich boy who can beat her in a fight, but she does exercises every day and she's stronger than most boys, so I think the rest of us will have to suffer for quite a while."

"Your mum - Aunt Miriam - she should stop her from being so beastly."

Archie sighed as he contemplated turning his eleven-year-old schoolboy cousin into an erotic young maiden like himself. Like himself William was beautiful, but in a different way. A degree smaller and softer and rather more camp.

"Mother admires what she does, and sometimes she puts me in a schoolgirl uniform herself when she takes me shopping." He reached out and stroked William's cheek.

"Trust me. No one will think your weird. They'll think your a cute girl, that's all."

William wasn't reassured. The whole family were crazy. The females were deviants, while Archie accepted things so easily it was unnatural.

Taking William's chin between his finger and thumb Archie said, "Sit up straight, I have to work on you."

Unaccountably William obeyed, stiffening his back and tilting up his head, aware of an odd sensation as his cousins delicious perfume assailed his senses and their stocking clad knees ribbed together with a whisper of nylon. The insignificant rasping signalled his first nylon-on-nylon experience, and it made something throb.

"You've a lovely complexion so you won't need much make-up." Achie gushed, "Nice features and a good mouth too, and you've eyelashes any real girl would die for. Your lips don't really need lipstick, but Jennifer will expect to see some, so we'd better do it right. Shame you don't have pierced ears though."

"No one's allowed pierced ears at my school."

"Jennifer will tell you all 'little girls' have their ears pierced, but never mind for the moment, when we get around to earrings I think I'll be able to find a pair of clip-ons for you. We'll do your nails first, 'cos they'll need time to dry."

"Nails!"

"Your fingernails you chump, they'll need to be lacquered. What colour do you think? Red is too harsh for you - I think primrose pink like my own. It's a colour people associate with young girls."

William's face darkened like a thundercloud and he gave his industrious cousin a petulant look as he twisted his hands in his lap. "I already look girly in these clothes. Do I really have to have make-up too?"

"Of course. Come on, you'll look really elegant, and you know you'll have to give in eventually. Jennifer will have you dressed like this until you go back to school."

"All the time? Every day?" The thought sent shivers down William's spine and a look of horror developed on his face. What kind of family had he blundered among?

"Certainly all the time. It amuses her to dress you as a sissy and watch you behave like a girl - for a few hours or a few months - for as long as it pleases her. You won't find any of your own clothes upstairs now. The cupboards in your room will have frocks in them. Look, your jolly lucky really, I have to put up with it every time I'm home on holiday."

William's face reddened and he squeezed his knees together. It seemed he didn't have any choice but to comply with what had been arranged and he needed time to think of a plan to escape the ghastly trap he'd fallen into. And, Oh dear! Why was his willy getting stiff?

For the next twenty minutes Archie worked ceaselessly, all the time chattering in an effort to ease his cousin's concerns. He stroked a little lipstick onto his mouth and applied eyeliner to give him what he termed 'a surprised little girl look' then, when the cosmetics had been put away he slipped slender silver bracelets on his wrists and an elegant black velvet choker around his throat, tying it at the back with a bow.

"Perfect!" he remarked with approval, "You look really cute." To emphasis the compliment he leaned forward and kissed William lightly on the cheek.

William was overcome by the erotic nature of what was happening. His body tingled and his poor cock was in horrible distress and he feared embarrassing himself by cumming in his pretty pants. Then. Oh no! Archie was reaching under his skirt and touching - feeling!

Archie lifted William's skirt and pondered on the stiff, pretty shape inside his filmy panties, a condition derived from rampant youthful hormones and pure lust. Not bad for someone so young, he thought as he measured it with his slender fingers. "Better do something about that before you show yourself to Jennifer. She's a stickler for the way a skirt hangs, so it's best not to risk any unsightly lumps and bumps."

William gasped with erotic shock as his cousin reached under the waistband and eased the garment down his erect treasure, whimpering as soft fingers gently squeezed his testicles.

No, not bad at all! thought Archie as he caressed the twelve-year-olds jewels. He slid his hand down carefully curling it around his scrotum until he held his testes in the centre of his palm. William had two well defined balls within a cute, pink bag and he had a cock that was quite stiff and smooth and deep pink at its tip, a tip already slick with preliminary drools. His right hand slipped around the slim hard shaft and his fingers squeezed gently, teased down the foreskin and pressing the smooth glands through his fist, rubbing the leaking goo over the pee hole with his thumb. Then he eased the pressure and started to stroke.

William trembled and gasped. "Ooh, Archie!" Immediately his pelvis began to rise up, straining and jerking and thrusting with an innate, urgent need. It was all so shameless but so very much needed, and he'd been yearning for such a thing to happen ever since he and his cousin had first met. The more Archie jerked his foreskin the more disinclined he was to object, and Archie was no slouch at understanding his pleasure.

"You like this sort of thing, don't you?"

"Uh, yeh, Archie. I, uh, well yeah, it feels lovely. You do it so nicely."

"All the girls say that."

William's ears were ringing with the rush of blood to his head and he heard his voice faintly as if it were an echo. He flushed. Did he mean real girls, or was he classing him as a 'girl'?

It was the wrong time for questions and he wasn't about to demand Archie stopped what he was doing. He was soon panting and rolling his head from side to side and rocking his hips.

He gasped, slumping down and opening his legs. "Do it Archie. Stroke my cock. Your hand feels so wonderful. Oh yes. Faster, do it faster!"

His cousin obliged, his words being a spur to the hand working up and down on his rigid shaft. He changed to a full-handed grip and increased the tempo of his strokes to a rapid pounding.

"Ooh, oooh, ooooh!" William's chest heaved and he began to thrust his hips upwards. "Don't stop. Make me do it. Rub me faster and make me cum."

His cousins eyes sparkled. "Faster still? Yes of course, if you're ready for it. And a gentle stroke under your balls too. That'll help."

William bucked sharply. "Oh, yes. Oh Archie I'm cumming now, cuuummmming! Oh yes, oooh, mmmmmh!" A single splash of boy-cream leapt from his tense, throbbing stem to be followed by a lazier, warm ooze. It felt wonderful. Stomach clenching he panted and groaned, enjoying wave after sweet wave of rippling pleasure.

Archie had expected a quick finish and he stroked the beautiful lad lovingly, kissing his slender neck as warm cum slicked on his hand. "You shoot stuff already. That's sexy for someone your age."

It was a proper reward for William, a boy who'd known so little joy so far that day. His skin glowed when it was over, and he felt not at all guilty. Archie was just the kind of boy he always enjoyed falling in love with.

 

Outside on the terrace the trip-trapping of high heels on stone alerted Jennifer to the approach of her two effeminated victims. Archie remained a step behind at a respectful distance, while heart pounding William stood in front of her, knees pressed together, head drooped and hands folded in front. The quite was absolute, and for William the tension almost tangible. The girl observed him with a stern look of appraisal, relishing his embarrassment and circling around behind the pint-size package of beauty that didn't even reach her shoulders.

"All dressed up in skirt and nylons," she simpered in his ear, "Now you really are a naughty boy, aren't you?" The remark was smug and mocking, making a shiver run down William's spine.

"Oh, please don't tease me, Jennifer."

She only grinned and husked into another ear. "Oh, but you are. You're a naughty sissy-boy showing himself off as a luscious little girly nymph. Does it feel sexy? It looks sexy. Do you feel ashamed? Most boys would die of shame." He pouted helplessly as she continued her tormenting. "Now you're a wriggly girl we can't call you William anymore, we'll need to think of a girly name. What would you like to be called?"

William blushed for the umpteenth time that morning. With his heart beating hard in his chest so furiously he knew it must be visible his knees nearly gave way under him.

"Come along. Think of a name. I bet you've thought about it before. I bet you've thought about what you'd like to be called if you were a girl. If you can't decide I'll have to give you a name you may not like."

"I - I sort of like the name, Wendy." he muttered in hushed reluctance.

"Wendy!" Jennifer wobbled her head as she considered it. "Yes, that's quite good enough. It could hardly be mistaken for a boys name. She gripped him firmly by the shoulders and turned him. "Now, remember how you promised to be a lovely girl for me, Wendy. Show me how you can perform in girls clothes. Walk to the end of the terrace and back again. Don't rush. Keep your head up and lean back slightly from the waist." Launching him like a boat on the river, she added, "Take short strides and place one foot in front of the other as you go."

In the crannies between the slate flags were planted clumps of tyme and aubrietia, and inevitably there were also weeds, but for the most part the terrace patio was level and provided an adequate catwalk. He began to walk, treading measured steps, feeling his hips swaying beneath the hem of his tiny dress and being eerily conscious of the soft elastic tug of suspender straps holding his stockings in place. He'd never been so aware before of putting each foot in a certain place, but it seemed vital that he performed precisely in the way Jennifer had instructed. There was something unworldly about the sensations he felt. There he was, a boy, parading in a short underslip and a pair of daringly skimpy thong pants and submitting to being the play thing of a heartless teenage girl.

At the farthest extent of the patio he paused, backed elegantly to the left, swung his hips around in a faultless Paris-turn, and sashayed back right on cue.

Standing at his sisters side Archie breathed heavily, impressed by such impromptu talent. "Wow! He's a natural, isn't he? And such gorgeous legs too."

Jennifer nodded. "Yes, he's rather regal. Keep your arms straight as you walk back," she told William, "Fan out your hands and try a little wiggle - oh yes, lovely, and such a cute, sulky mouth too. You're going to make quite a little princess."

Before William was able to complete his return she signalled for him to stop.

"Go to the kitchen and get me some fruit juice. Gloria knows you're a sissy that I'm making you into a girl, so she won't be surprised to see you dressed like that."

As he obediently went off he noticed Jennifer cruelly twisting her brothers ear.

"There were a couple of things you could have done better Abigail, and of which you need reminding." she said as she hauled him towards one of the basket chairs. There was no doubt in William's mind that his cousin was in for some unduly rough treatment, but he could only feel glad to be away from the bullying girl himself for a while.

His mind became filled with resentment. His situation was ridiculous, but how could he change it? No one was prepared to criticise Jennifer, and he would have preferred boarding on at school to suffering anymore of the humiliation she provided. But Aunt Miriam held his allowance and he'd no other money, and her house was in the middle of a wilderness hundreds of miles away from his school.

He tottered carefully down the dusky corridors still unsure of himself in his towering high heels, and for the same reason, he twice as carefully descended a short flight of steps carpeted in red that led to the kitchen. The house was a confusion. No two rooms appeared to be on the same level. In a small lobby he found himself confronted by a full length wall mirror. It was of another time, the heavy, gilded rococo frame a riot of twisted scrollwork with, at its corners, plump little cherubs bearing oddly knowing expressions.

Alone and unobserved for the first time that morning unbidden, illicit excitement coursed through his veins. Guiltily he cast a look around and shivered, hardly daring to look at his reflection, but eventually the temptation became too strong and he stepped back to view himself. The lobby was unlit and in shadow, so in the mirror his figure stood out against a dark background in stunning detail, and he was shaken to the roots by what he saw. It was absurd, impossible! He was being admired by an adorable little girl with peaches and cream complexion and a luscious little mouth. What nice unblemished skin she had, what lovely shoulders and what a slender waist.

Without being too conceited he knew he was well made and he couldn't help but admire his reflection. Yes, he did look a bit like a girl, he couldn't deny that. His big brown eyes and slender eyebrows did nothing to dismiss the fact, and his stocking clad legs were heart-stoppers. The skimpy black satin underslip he wore as a dress seemed to trickle down over his cool skin accentuating every youthful angle, every dip and sylph-like curve, and emphasising a lissom shape and lovely thighs, while the bodice beneath the swooping neckline hugged him deliciously. As he readjusted his clothes he realised he'd never felt so glittering and attractive. The sensation of nylon and satin caressing his skin made him feel giddy. Lipstick pasted on his mouth, earrings that swung against his neck and the stockings and shoes, all combined with a delicious swirl of the little skirt to summon up feelings of the erotic. His eyelids drooped and his cheeks became suffused with modest blushes as he absorbed a sudden wave of femininity.

He smiled coyly. "Wow! This is weird. Being dressed like this can sort of make a boy feel a bit girly?"

The image he saw was alluring and undeniably erotic, and he couldn't resist the temptation to flirt with himself. A coquettish smile developed on his mouth as his mood changed, and without understanding exactly why he struck up a pose that was intuitively sexual and feminine, one knee slightly bending and a hand lightly poised on a thrusting hip. Acting provocatively for his own amusement he swivelled around gracefully to make his skirt swirl, then teased himself with a shameless pout of a glossy pink mouth. He was suddenly aware of the stir of pubescent hormones inside his pants as his penis began to throb and push at the material. Hesitantly - guiltily, he raised the front of the dress and despite the attention he'd received from Archie just a short time ago he slipped a hand down inside his underwear. His penis felt thick and his testicles formed perfect oval mounds of their own.

"Is someone there?" A voice from the kitchen brought him shuddering back to reality, and shivering, he straightened his clothes, turned from the mirror and walked away.

The kitchen was a large place smelling of chopped mint and freshly sliced lemons, full of modern conveniences, but dominated by a huge Aga set in one wall. Laid out on a table was the makings of Sunday lunch: smoked trout, salad, blue cheese and a bowl of cherries.

Gloria was at the sink peeling potatoes. A large person encased in a blue overall coat with short sleeves that accentuated her gargantuan bosom, wide shoulders and plump short forearms shaped like muttons. Tossing a potato into a saucepan the woman stopped mid-bustle and latched her attention onto him, her pale eyes hardly blinking as she surveyed the lovely young sissy, resplendent in his tiny miniskirt and shapely stockinged legs.

"Well, ain't you the glamorous thing! You's look sweet. Girls clothes suit you.." she observed with a warm smile.

"Jennifer made me dress-up like this. I didn't do it because I wanted to."

William bemoaned fitfully.

His distress had no impact. The broad bodied housekeeper displayed no hint of sympathy for his predicament, she just nodded while retaining her smile. "I guessed that a'ready. Jennifer as a talent for makin' lads do things they don't want to do. It's strange how just a few fancy bits an' a little skirt can change 'em. Jennifer allus makes boys wear such skimpy dresses, but I suppose she knows what she wants. It does make you look cute, an' you've got lovely legs. What's your name now you're a girly?"

The woman was outrageous and William felt himself rile, but had to accept he was helpless against her callousness.

"Jennifer said I'm to be called Wendy." he replied sulkily.

"Umph! Miss Hancock won't hardly reckon that classical, but I suppose it serves the function. "

"Jennifer wants some fruit juice." he said hurriedly, wanting to change the direction of the conversation. The woman smirked mysteriously.

"Aye, she's fond o' juice is Jennifer." She took a jug of orange juice from the fridge and assembled it along with a glass tumbler on a small silver tray. Plink, plink! To lumps of ice were added before she handed the tray over to him ."Can you get this through the house without spillin' it?"

He nodded solemnly. "Would you open the door for me please.?"

Without warning the housekeeper's broad hand clamped to the seat of his skirt and patted. "'Spect she's put tiny panties on yer - little scraps o' stuff that's hardly worth havin' probably." Immediately her hands shot beneath the hem and in a moment were hauling his pants down.

William blinked hard and the ice in the jug rattled.

"Thought so. Not worth the bother o' you wearin' 'em." smirked Gloria as she drew the garment down to his ankles and lifted out his feet. There was no compassion in her, and no hint of an apology or regret for stealing his underwear. Stripping him of his knickers seemed nothing more than a prank to the housekeeper,: an amusement she could chuckle over for the rest of the morning, but it was a real concern to the boy. What would Jennifer say when she discovered he'd lost his pants?

Gloria's hand lingered beneath the little skirt for an indecent moment, seeming reluctant to desert the newly uncovered portions of anatomy. Her breathing was noticeably rapid and he sensed she wanted to touch and caress the jewels she had unwrapped, but then with a banal schoolgirl titter she at last rose up. "Best not mention it to anyone, m'luv. You'll only get a smack if you do." Gloria told him as she shooed him on his way with a further pat of his bottom. "If yer winky starts to lift up and gets to be a bit of a 'andful, come back here an' I'll sort it out for yer."

He paused in the lobby outside to get a better grip on the tray and regain some composure, then as he began to pick his way back to the terrace he realised with a rush of panic that the shoes he wore and the gait he'd been told to tread was making his skirt flounce prettily and causing his hips to sway. Horror! He was starting to mince like a girl.

What on earth was he doing in that dreadful house full of fierce ghastly women? How could he have allowed himself to be bullied into dressing-up and promenading about as a girl? How dare they insist he traipsed around like a servile parlour maid? His mind filled with resolve. Just one more harsh word from Jennifer or a threat of humiliation from anyone and he'd wreck every room upstairs until he found his own clothes, then he'd walk back to school no matter how far away it was. Even better, he'd find some policeman and tell them he'd been kidnapped by gangsters in Middlesex, and dumped in Yorkshire. They'd take him back to school. He was sure that would work. Policemen did things like that.

It was at that moment he met Dorothea Boroclough as she came out from a toilet. She appeared just as startled as he was, and looked him up and down with piercing eyes.

"Good morning young lady, are you Jennifer?"

The hair on the back of William's head stood up with embarrassment as he shook his head, too terrified to speak.

"A friend then. You must be one of Jennifer's little friends."

He felt his knees tremble and he glanced at his sissy painted fingernails.

Surely she could see that he was a boy wearing girl's clothes.

"I'm her - I'm her cousin - I'm just visiting." he managed, acutely aware of his lack of underwear and suddenly panicking.

"Ah, yes. That would explain it. I believe I know all the young girls who live locally. I'm pleased to have met you." Before turning to stride away she gave him another long look, disapproving of the shoes and faultless make-up. I expect they're playing games, she decided. Little girl's enjoy dressing-up outrageously, which was probably all right as long as it was done in the home. Still, it was disturbing to see such a young thing looking so strikingly sexual. It would have been much healthier for the child to be occupied grooming ponies or cuddling guinea-pigs at her age.

 

When William approached the conservatory the hairs on his head rose up again when a noise like that of hands beating slow applause greeted him. Between each slap he could hear Archie bleating, and intuitively he knew he and Jennifer had returned indoors and the girl was now spanking her brother while seated on the Chesterfield.

Glancing through the door a knot seemed to settle in his belly. By then Archie was sprawled face down on the floor and his sister was standing over him with a foot on his neck. The back of Archie's skirt was flicked up and his tiny pants hauled down around his thighs, and the boy was protesting meekly and ineffectively while his exposed pink buttocks gyrated in a kind of rumba.

Jennifer's eyes flicked up and she noticed William standing immobile in the doorway.

"Don't just stand there like a street-corner tart, Wendy dear. Come in and put the tray on the table."

Her patronising attitude should have roused rebellion in him, but the resolve he'd been so sure of only moments before now failed him utterly. Jennifer was alpha-female and merciless, and aware of how dangerous she could be when angry he hesitated to do anything that could upset her. He didn't even dare asking her what Archie had done to warrant a spanking, but blatantly ignoring the jug of juice she told him anyway.

"This silly sissy-brother of mine thought to disagree with me. Cheek like that from a sissy deserves a good spank, don't you think?"

He felt like running away, to put as much distance between himself and the madhouse of Fairyfield Grange as he could, but instead his feet became rooted to the spot. "Er, well, I suppose so." he heard himself panic in reply.

Jennifer seized on his thoughtless words and grinned smugly at her brother. "There you are Abigail. Wendy agrees you deserved a spank. What do you say to that?"

"Wendy's a bitch." Archie mumbled, climbing to his feet and sniffing indignantly.

His sisters eyes glowed. "Yes, I think you're right Abigail. I think she is a bitch, and you should be allowed to spank her yourself for being so hardhearted."

William paled. She couldn't mean it! Being spanked over her own knees was cringe-making enough. She wouldn't insist he had his bum smacked by another boy, surely!"

Both boys swallowed hard. Neither had sought such an outcome from a thoughtless exchange of words, and Archie seemed as unhappy about being cast in the role of tormentor as William was of being the victim. He glanced apprehensively at his sister. "It's okay. I was only joking about him being a bitch, and I forgive what he said."

Jennifer shoved him down on the sofa in open contempt, then grabbed William by an arm.

"You can forgive as much as you like Abigail, but you'll do the spanking anyway, because that's what I've decided."

Suddenly William attempted mutiny with a burst of protest that was quite spontaneous.

"Look here, I've had enough of this vile game, and I won't go along with it any longer." He panted at his daring and became immobile again. A kind of disbelief. Shock. Something. Did he sound angry? He stood before her, not meeting her eyes, trying to catch his breath while staring at the floor.

"Won't?" Jennifer feigned astonishment. "That's a horrid word, and one that's never used in this house."

She gave him no chance to register anything, she raised his chin on the tips of her fingers then struck his face with a stinging blow. With a whine of distress the air left his lungs and he put a hand to his cheek where the smack had landed.

"You're forgetting who you are." The girl's voice was stern, quite imperious, "Best if you remind yourself. Who are you?"

He gulped, and his mind filled with thoughts coming from all directions, swirling around in his dazed mind and twisting and tangling around each other. There was no escape for him. He was trapped. He knew that now.

Unable to prevent a surge of tears he uttered submissively. "I - I'm Wendy."

"And what are you?"

He blushed with shame. "I'm a girl."

"Say it again - louder."

"I'm Wendy, and I'm - I'm a girl."

"Yes, of course. You're a sissy-bimbo and you love to wear pretty things. You're tired of being a useless prick of a boy, and you long for girly thrills, don't you?"

Mortified, wanting to die, William stood in front of her, head bowed, feet together, hands clamped in front, his face burning as he nodded agreement. His compliance brought a fleeting smile from Jennifer who immediately grasped him by an ear and forced him to mince around the room, making him repeat over and over that he was a girl.

"Yes, you're a girl. But even squirmy girl's are sometimes naughty, and naughty girls have to be smacked, don't they?" she put to him.

"Yes, Jennifer." his small voice bleated.

The girls eyes flashed. "Stop blubbering and lay across Abigail's lap." She then scowled at her brother. "Lay on six good stingers, and don't try to be clever. If I don't think you're doing it well enough you'll get six more yourself." When she saw William hesitating she grabbed hold of him and shoved him down. His inadequate little skirt was hoisted up and he caught a glimpse of her face. She looked amused and extremely wicked.

"Well, well!. Wendy's been careless and lost her knickers, which only proves I was right to award her some smacks. The disgraceful little miss deserves a jolly good hot bottom. Wiggle it Wendy. Signal where you need attention."

William mewed desperately.

"Now, now sexy," Jennifer giggled, but there was derision in her tone. "Stick it out like a good girl." When he still hesitated her hand went between his legs and grabbed his balls, just as she'd done before. "Stick it out and wriggle it like I said."

There was no arguing with her. Only when he complied did she release him. Then ... Wallop! Although he'd been expecting it the first spank shocked him with its keen sting. His bottom shivered beneath the impact and a hot smarting sensation immediately spread over his buttocks. Desperately he reared up and tried to kick with his legs, but found himself held firmly in place by Jennifer's hand.

Archie's second blow came swinging down. Smack! "Oow -"

"Now, do keep still, Wendy -" Jennifer's voice demanded.

Whack! Splatt! "Ooh, Jennifer. Oow, no -" WALLOP! "Oooch!" THWACK! "OOW!"

For the second time that morning poor William's bare bottom squirmed under the threshing of squarely applied flat-handed blows, and by the time he'd had his six his buttocks felt like they were boiling and he was sobbing.

"Now take a seat and behave yourself." said Jennifer brusquely.

William slid himself awkwardly onto the sofa beside Archie, squirming his bottom down to entice the cool leather of the seat to comfort his smarting thighs and buttocks, and inadvertently making his little skirt ripple from side to side until the hem slid upward over glass smooth nylon. He was only too aware he was behaving like a girl to the point of pressing his knees together in a prissy show of modesty that didn't count for anything to those in his company, but he wanted to retain a tiny bit of dignity. He wanted to protest too, but dare not. He knew exactly what reaction that would arouse.

Jennifer settled into an armchair opposite. Crossing her legs, she grinned with delight, revelling in being in command of two boys who offered such abject obedience. The more success she had with her perverse entertainment the more she felt obliged to have, and already other outrageous ideas were forming in her mind. Of the two boys her brother was the more steady and most predictable, but her cute cousin fascinated her the most. He was mercurial, still an enigma, and she wondered just how far he could be pushed.

"My sissy brother is now my sister, and my mother's nephew is now her niece. Goodness! You look almost like twins sitting there together - like Tweedledum and Tweedledee - except they were boys of course, and you're both pretty girls. The only niggling difference is - well, one of you is wearing underwear while the other isn't. Let's put that right Wendy. Abigail will let you take her knickers off."

William gaped. "Me - t-take his-her knickers off? I- I ..." Astounded he glanced uncertainly at Archie, but his cousin avoided looking at him and dipped his eyes in acquiescence to his sisters suggestion. The halting, nervous response was what the girl expected from her latest victim, but it was meekly presented and assured her William could be made to comply.

"Go on, do it!" she said icily.

Hesitantly, awkwardly, William clambered down onto the floor and knelt between Archie's knees, then passed his hands up over the other boys nylon clad thighs and under the hem of his short skirt. Unprotesting, Archie allowed him to reach for his hips and the elastic thongs that held his pants in place, then raised his bottom slightly as they were hurriedly dragged down over his legs.

"Nicely done," Jennifer grinned, "Does Abigail have a hard-on?"

Confused and crimson with emotion, William wriggled. "Gosh, I don't know." Despite his answer he was very well aware of the unsubtle tenting in the front of Archie's skirt.

"Well, hoist up his frock and let's see."

Biting his lip William slowly pushed his cousins skirt up to his waist, and Archie's genitals stood revealed. His penis, vertical and pulsing slightly, was a large uncut beauty with a long brown foreskin, a monstrously incongruous thing to find between the legs of such a young boy, its rosy, bulbous tip half covered by a hood of skin emanating a kind of mature beauty.

This magnificence was complimented by testicles that were low-hung and seemed to hold a pair of hen's eggs.

"He has got a hard-on! I thought so!" exclaimed Jennifer, "Abigail is a big-dicked girl and I know he'd love some attention from a friendly hand, so you have permission to milk him."

William swallowed hard. In her determination to shock him she was being disgusting. Even boys who did that kind for each other didn't do it in front of girls, but unaccountably, even as he rationalised the matter his fingers reached out and smoothed over gossamer nylon to caress the tower of flesh. It was thicker than a broom handle and was both hot and hard, except for the outside which felt velvety and loose. He measured it with his soft hands, rubbing his fairy-like fingers around its swollen dimensions until Archie moaned. Then he hefted his cousin's massive balls and estimated what a busy sperm factory those spherical treasures must be. He squeezed the wrinkled bag gently and Archie squeaked. He may have had a big cock and balls, but he was all sissy.

Pulse racing, William wrapped his hand around the thick uprisen column, he'd done such things in the past, but never in such weird circumstances. When the penis twitched in his hand as if impatient for some movement he stroked it up and down a few times before peeling down the foreskin on the giant shaft to expose a vent at its tip that seemed to observe him like a myopic eye. Archie sucked in a noisy breath and lay back in obvious rapture. Suddenly Jennifer rose up, her face glowing with raunchy fire, and she knocked his hand away.

"Christ, you're a fumble-handed sissy, and so awkward and slow. Let me show you how it should be done." Archie's whole body jolted as his sister's hand brushed between his thighs and closed around his penis, circling it with fingers and thumb, then with tantalising ease began to slick the soft skin around its tip up and down.

If William thought Archie's penis was big before, he was in awe of how it extended further. It was probably six or seven inches, perhaps more, and to an twelve-year-old it looked like something belonging to a horse.

Archie was soon gasping aloud, but didn't resist when his sister rolled his foreskin right back to fully expose the firm helmet-shape of his cock-head and an inch of sturdy shaft, and with her movements unabating Jennifer drew the sheath of skin up again and began a furious jigging with the full ring of her hand.

"You see Wendy," Jennifer's voice trickled out, "I do know how to pleasure girly-boys when it suits me, but I chose when I want to do it." Her motions quickened until she was yanking her brothers penis in her fist so vigorously she was almost lifting him from his seat, while at the same time the fingers of her other hand slipped under his testicles. Another gasp, and Archie squirmed in shameful ecstasy, head lolling sideways onto his shoulder, eyes glazed, mouth slack.

The sleazy revue was taking place just in front of William's pink face, and suddenly Jennifer turned the watering cock towards him. "Pretty big one, huh!" she smiled, "Abigail gets quite hot and bothered whenever I give his willy a nice sister-wank like this, but I know he'd still enjoy you kissing it." She scooped a hand behind his neck and pulled him forward. "Come on sissy-boy. Do it. Kiss it right on the top."

She pressed him forward and his lips collided with Archie's spongy, fat tip which was beginning to ooze clear sticky fluid. He recoiled, but Jennifer made him go down again, and this time she moved the head of the penis back and forth over his lips to smear them with precum.

"See! It's just like putting on lipstick. Put out your tongue and give it a lick."

She was still pumping her brother's cock at his face when she must have had a second thought, because she shoved William's mouth right down to make it engulf the tip.

"Better still if you give it a suck."

Young William blooped in dismay as she force-fed the bloated plum-end into his mouth.

Archie groaned. "Hey, careful with the teeth!"

"Yes, stupid girl ..." agreed Jennifer, giving the younger boy a slap on the back of the head, "... Keep your teeth away from it and grip it with your lips."

Feeling utterly helpless as Archie's solid length of penis-flesh completely filled his mouth William whimpered, but heartless Jennifer paid that no attention and started moving his face up and down to initiate a rhythm her brother soon picked up, thrusting his hips up to meet the other boys mouth each time it bobbed down. Desperately William tried to steady the tempo and make it more manageable, but Jennifer at once resented the interference.

"Arms by your side, little lady. I'm controlling this." She crouched behind him and placed her hands on either side of his head so she could use the strength in both arms, then continued to plunge his face up and down.

William realised that to bring the ordeal to an end he needed to practise some enthusiasm, so he resigned himself to the girl's bullying and began to pump energetically with his mouth, then just as he seemed about to inflict a toe-curling sensation on Archie that would guarantee a result his female cousin pulled his hair and hauled his head back.

"Why Wendy, you daring little hussy. You're being quite shameless about trying to get my brother to ejaculate into your mouth, aren't you?"

"Oh, crikey, no - honestly - I was - wasn't..."

"That kind of thing may be okay for schoolboys who have a crush on their chums, but it's a too easy finish for anyone I have in training." She smirked at her brother. "Abigail was rather enjoying it, but she's had enough of that kind of treat for the moment. I think she's ready for something else now." Her eyes drifted to William. "Are you ready Wendy? Are you hot for something else too?"

There was something ominous in her query. Ready for what? thought William as dark suspicions crowded into his mind.

A drizzle of baby-oil descended from a bottle held in Jennifer's hand and she massaged the lubricant into Archie's uprisen shaft with such vigour he was soon moaning again. Then she backed away and urged him to get on his feet and strike a pose with his hands on his hips.

Humiliated Archie may have been, but he was proud of his big cock, and his sisters furious jigging had brought it up to optimum size, and it now looked pink, drooling and tasty. His balls dangled low like plums in a bag and were undoubtedly filled with cum-cream..

"Strong young thighs and hung like a stallion! My brother puts on a good show for a sissy boy, doesn't he?" sniggered Jennifer.

William was still crouched on the floor, eyes wide and staring. He'd seen plenty of naked boys at boarding school, but Archie's glistening oiled member was among the biggest he'd ever seen. For a moment he panicked, but then his cousin stepped forward and lifted him to his feet, and as the great weapon brushed close to his own body he felt oddly excited. Their bellies pressed together, and since Archie had nothing on but his skimpy girl dress William could feel his very large, stiff thing rubbing against him as they embraced. Archie could feel William's too. William hated it when Jennifer forced him to say he was a girl, but he loved it when strong boys held him tight. It always made him feel so wonderfully helpless.

But they must have seemed an odd sight, he thought. Two pretty girls with

stiff pricks poking up from beneath their skirts

"What are you going to do?" William croaked.

Before Archie could reply Jennifer intervened. "Stop asking questions. Climb up on the sofa and get on all fours."

He shuddered. He knew all too well what was intended. It wasn't the first time he'd been directed into such a position whilst a thrusting penis hovered nearby, but he'd never done anything like that with a girl watching - with a girl supervising!

Clambering onto his knees, he slumped on his elbows and pressed a cheek into the arm of the Chesterfield, then slowly pushed out his buttocks. "It'll hurt." he complained meekly while his heart raced.

"Don't be such a baby," scoffed Jennifer, and she made him flinch as she drew his buttocks open and dosed in between with more of the baby oil. Clamping a hand hard down on his neck she then signalled her brother, and Achie pressed forward with his hips and gently rubbed his erection in the lubrication. Almost immediately the tip of his penis began to bully William's sphincter muscle, making the boy groan in trepidation, because he suspected that the bullying wouldn't cease until Archie had lodged his entire salami-sized length in his backside. Breathing in desperate gasps he glanced back under Jennifer's restraining arm as he felt the phallus thrusting strongly.

"Archie - Abigail - he - she's going to f-fuck me."

Jennifer's fingers tightened on his neck., holding him down and treating him to a 'do as I say or I'll pull off your balls' look. "That's right. Please her. Let her do it. Show her - show me how good you are at taking it."

With a sigh Archie took a grip on his hips, slowly but steadily pulling the younger boys soft body onto his erection. It wouldn't fit, William was certain everyone would see that soon. It was too big. "Unnnhhhh!" The drooling cock was in his anus "Eeeekkk!" It was pushing in, stretching him terribly and opening him wide. He groaned, but the insertion of the masterful mushroom didn't hurt as much as he'd feared. Oh, goodness! It was all in.

It was going to happen after all. Archie was going to fuck him and squirt semen into his bowls.

Once the rampant length was completely embedded he felt heat in his belly as the thing began to slide back and forth, moving gently at first, with easy smooth strokes. All in all it wasn't too bad. The movement against his prostate and the feeling of pleasing someone he admired. He had to admit it felt rather nice. And he could just about cope with the size of it as long as his cousin moved slowly. But then Archie began to pick up tempo and pump with his hips hard and fast, pushing everything he had into him and making him whimper. William pressed the knuckles of one hand against his mouth. "Aaaooowww! He's doing it - he's fucking me!" His lips curled in anguish and his face flushed, while his hair became plastered to one side of his ruddy cheeks as his head rolled on the arm of the couch. He began huffing and puffing, and he let out a series of short pouty grunts as he wrestled with the invader in his backside, trying to relax and just let it happen, even though Archie was by then slamming into him brutally.

"Good girl!" Jennifer approved. She was watching the bizarre coupling with ill concealed pleasure, noting with relish how well her young cousins puckered sphincter had surrendered completely and was luridly dilating wider in an effort to accommodate her brothers shunting thick member more easily. "There! You love it really, don't you? Girls have to learn to do this, and pantywaist sissyboys have to learn too. It's all part of being female."

"Ooh, b-but it's gross, Jennifer." William snivelled.

"Now Wendy ..." she mocked and leered "... I can see your little bum-hole, and it's doing fine. Just settle down like a well behaved sissy princess and let Abigail's 'Mr Biggie' do what it as to do."

The boy opened his mouth as if to respond, but the only sound he could utter was a moan as Achie made a terrific lunge and sank deep. His cousin was enjoying himself, and in a strange way that pleased him. Tossing his head from side to side, he just hoped he wouldn't split. "Jennifer, p-please."

The girl leaned down close to his ear. "Please what?" she asked in a singsong voice, "Please tell Abigail to do it faster? Please ask him to squirt all his hot sissy-juice into your bum? I don't think he'll forget to do that for a sexy little queen like you.

It was awful, but it was true. The harder and deeper Archie plunged his cock the more William's muscles clutched at it and the more he liked it. He didn't want it to stop. His willpower was all used up, and limp and weak he allowed the other boy to do just as he wished, offering himself as an object for lustful pleasure, just as he did when older boys used him at school. He was suddenly feeling utterly girlish and deserving to be on the end of a furiously rutting hard-on, and once freed of the weight of denial his hands fluttered with a crazy frenzied motion, while his hips shimmied in rapid spasms in response to the urgency demanded of the big slippery cock moving inside him.

"Oh, my, ooow!" William's lips formed a quivering 'O' as he panted hard, his eyes squeezing tight shut as a familiar burning assailed his insides.

Archie suddenly gripped him ferociously and his hips arched downwards as he thrust energetically forward, his long fingers clutched about William's waist. An expression of intense pleasure blossomed on his face. His teeth clenched and his face became a mask of rapture. "Gggnnn!" he grunted as he shot hot, thick, creamy wads of sperm deep into his cousin's ravaged bottom.

"Aaa!" William's stomach clutched and his toes exploded. Yammering, twisting about, his hips shuddered furiously. "Oow - yes - ooowww!"

Afterwards Archie went away to the bathroom to clean himself, leaving William to face Jennifer alone. The young visitor's body ached and his anus tingled, but he felt warm inside and wondered if it was the sperm from his cousins hulking balls washing around in his rectum. The orgasm inside him had been titanic in its intensity, but know came feelings of shame for allowing it to happen. The shame overwhelmed the pleasure when he thought of it, but he knew the pleasure would return. It had been another ghastly humiliation for him. It was weird enough to be dressed as a girl and be shagged like a girl by another boy dressed as a girl, but Jennifer had first instigated it and then watched it all happen. Girls weren't supposed to do things like that.

It made him uncomfortable to realise how Jennifer was so adept at reading his mind. She seemed to have the ability to see into his head and read his thoughts. Confident of his attraction to her brother she'd ensured his bum was there for Archie's taking. He was a sure pushover where Archie was concerned of course, but nevertheless, he thought it only right to register a mild protest.

"You shouldn't have made him do that to me, Jennifer. It was unfair. You made Archie rape me."

She laughed, just once. It was not a nice laugh, being neither comforting or friendly. She had no tolerance for the weak or ineffectual, especially when they were males. "Rape you - Bosh! Do you mean you didn't enjoy it? I think you're not being honest. I've noticed the sly little glances you and my brother have shared since the moment you both met, and it was inevitable you'd have each others pants off eventually. It's unlikely his cock was the first one you've experienced, and today probably isn't the first time you've flaunted yourself like a girl either. I bet you've worn stockings in the past to please boys."

William looked sheepish. "Jennifer, that's not true. W - w - when can I have my own clothes back, please?"

Leaning back she considered things for a moment. "Why Wendy dear, you must resign yourself to the way things are. You're wearing your own clothes."

Archie had removed his dress whilst he'd been away, and on his return he wore only shoes and stockings, the suspender-belt being the only item to break the shapely smooth outlines of his young body. His testicles hung freely and his penis dangled, flaccid, still a monster worthy of admiration, but only remarkable now for its admirable length and the bulbous knob which still lay exposed against the drawn back foreskin. Jennifer hardly spared him a look as he hovered at the side of her chair.

"Go to Wendy. She's waiting for you." she told him drily.

William at once noticed something wanton about his cousin's expression as he settled beside him on the Chesterfield once more. He felt he should have said something, but he couldn't break the hold of Archie's gorgeous eyes, or that soft smile with more than a hint of wickedness - where had he learnt to smile like that? - it made a boy like himself react like a puppet on a string. Lust may have been sated for the moment, but he still carried a hungry look about him that was accentuated by partly hooded, mascara shadowed eyes and a slightly open mouth. Somehow he knew Archie was going to kiss him.

His tiny nipples throbbed beneath his flimsy dress as his cousin's warm, perfumed body pressed against him. Archie slipped an arm about his waist and satin-soft lips immediately touched his cheek, then moved down to his mouth, and William conceded without a word. He was willing to let his wonderful cousin do anything he wished - even in front of Jennifer. He opened his mouth and whimpered submissively, offering his tongue and tonsils for Abigail's pleasure and not caring if Jennifer was watching or not. He wanted to be seduced, to be stroked and touched and fondled and sweetly persuaded out of his clothes. He wanted to be kissed and licked until his head spun.

Soft, warm glossed lips touched with the heat of need. They were in heaven as they revelled in each others girly fragrance, neither of them caring that his partner was really a boy.

Drawn like feathers in a breeze their lips met with ardent passion, their eyes closed and their mouths rolled in unison. Hot and passionate. Tongues in swirling motion. Rubbing and groping. Whimpering and moaning.

Archie knew how to make a sissy enjoy a good kissing. His soft mouth knew precisely where to smooch and his tongue knew exactly where to lick, and William, now Wendy, was so - co-operative, and - so needy. He clamped himself to him, slowly pumping his tongue in and out of the whimpering boys pouty mouth, and with his lips forced open the younger boys own tongue started a slimy dance with the flickering, elusive intruder.

The taste of lipstick permeated William's senses. He felt Archie's hand coax down the bodice of his dress and begin to palm his breasts, felt the heat of passion in the fingertips as they pulled and caressed his flesh. As a boy the exposure of a nipple was not indecent, but his boyishness had diminished a great deal in the past few hours. "You fucked me with your big cock." he whispered.

"Yes, I loved doing it." his cousin husked in reply.

"Stop whispering," demanded Jennifer's voice, "You know I don't allow panty-boys to have secrets." She was feeling jubilant in her domination and couldn't resist pressing her thighs together, but she gave no other hint of how sodden the gusset of her underwear had become by just watching the randy antics of her prize queens. It was an apex of pleasure to have two boys do their queering in front of her.

William was ready for lots more kissing and he pressed his lips against Archie's - Abigail's mouth. Abigail moaned with pleasure of his own, then pushed out the tip of his tongue and slithered it over his cousin's teeth. There had been renewed stirring in William's loins ever since Abigail had joined him, and now the excitement had developed into something his little skirt couldn't hide.

Archie played briefly with the erotic band of white flesh above the tops of William's stockings before sliding his hand beneath the hem of his skirt, and William shuddered. "She - Jennifer - she's watching."

"My sister likes to watch. She wants to know if you squirt. She wants me to make you do it."

It was disgusting, but what did that matter now, thought the younger boy. The girl had already been witness to much worse. Archie hugged him a little closer, his fingers finding his stiff penis and encircling it, then sliding its silky foreskin to-and-fro over the sensitive gland. Within moments he was displaying the same kind of upthrusting solid prong Jennifer had dealt with so cruelly the previous evening.

"How does that feel?"

The answer came from the blissful expression on his cousins face as his eyes became glassy and his head lolled. Nothing seemed to matter anymore to William, who was now Wendy. The punishment, the humiliation and the sissifying all became submerged by the sensations of rapture that emanated from the way he was being handled.

Hugging his cousin tightly Abigail took the initiative. He encircled the other boys gorgeous young cock with his soft girlish hand and rolled the foreskin back to examine the pink, sensitive head with delicate manicured fingers. Then he started to wank him properly, moving the sleeve of skin up and down over the rim of the gland in a measured rhythm. Wendy was as horny as he could be. His body quivered and his penis throbbed strongly several times as he attempted to lift up from his seat and thrust his stiff flesh harder into his cousin's hand. By then Abigail was already gently squeezing his ball-bag. Then his head went down to take the jerking penis into his mouth, and Wendy began gasping loudly.

Jennifer watched in fascination as her brothers mouth worked up and down the length of firm flesh from the straining little plum shaped tip to the rather pretty testicles at its base.

Wendy was an ideal recruit. He was young and cute and his cock made a lovely rampant show when visited by some attention. But could he do a wet finish?

"Mmmmmmggg, omegosh! I'm com... mmmmmnnph, mmmmnnnph!" moaned Wendy.

"Hmph, mmp, moooph, moooph!" responded Abigail - an indecipherable reply, but one which betrayed his acceptance of the spurting in his mouth. Jennifer's latest victim bucked up and down on the couch, but Abigail's mouth held on until he'd finished swallowing.

Having observed the torrid action closely, Jennifer's whole body stiffened like a huge knot as she locked her legs together as tightly as she could, but while her face wrinkled in a spasm of her own secret delight she carefully refrained from making any noise. Girly-boys were banned from knowing anything of her own inner pleasure, and only a tiny quiver of her mouth betrayed the presence of the warm flood in her pants.

At last Abigail sat up and wiped his mouth. "Ooh, wow - that was more than the first time. It was quite something!"

 

 

"God, that Boroclough woman is a pain in the neck!" exclaimed Miriiam Hancock a short time later when she returned from the parlour. "She must have sat there for over an hour going on about how important she is."

It was a moment before she realised Jennifer was alone. "Where are you're girly's, darling?"

"I've locked them in their rooms and told them to practise their wiggles, and I've told them at lunchtime you'll expect them to report to you dressed as schoolgirls."

"You had no problem with William then?"

Jennifer made a little noise of amusement that came out like a hiccup. "He's an absolute pussycat when it comes to taking orders. Quite the tame little Miss. Do you think his granny puts him in frocks and knickers when he goes to Brighton?"

Miriam smiled and shrugged, then writhed slightly. Shaking off her blouse she adjusted the straps of her brassier and presented her back to her daughter. "Give my shoulders a little massage, dear. Having to listen to that woman droning away for so long as made me quite tense."

Obligingly, Jennifer's fingers and thumbs pressed into her mothers flesh, intuitively seeking out the tiny knots of tightened muscle. Miriam relaxed visibly. "Do you know Mrs Boroclough bumped into one of the boys when she went to the loo?"

"Golly no! That must have been Wen - I mean that would have been William.

Did she make a fuss about it?"

"The overbearing old trout took him for a real girl, but she reckoned the child was dressed far too much like a grown woman of ill-repute, and I had to endure twenty minutes of her opinions and advice on childcare. Her lecturing me, for goodness sake! Me, who was once responsible for the welfare of forty children en bloc." She gasped slightly at the pressure of her daughter's fingers. "When you mentioned schoolgirls a moment ago, you must have been reading my mind, Jennifer dear. I've come up with an idea, a brilliant idea, and I want you to say 'Yes'."

"Am I allowed to say 'No'?" Jennifer laughed, but her mother wasn't listening.

"Schoolgirls are the answer to the dilemma I'm having with this fusty old house. I've been pondering what to do with it for ages, and now it's as clear as daylight. I'll make it a school. Being headmistress of an academy for young ladies can be considered a genteel occupation, and fees generated from having resident pupils could prove a reasonable income."

Jennifer paused in the act of gouging her thumbs into her mothers back and observed her with a look of astonishment. "Oh really, Mummy. That's preposterous. You know nothing about teaching and the house is a shambles. It would need a fortune spent on it before you could open any kind of boarding-school."

Miriam grinned. She was a classic example of an ambitious and clever woman. She had been absorbed by a career until a short time ago, and one of the things that made her successful in her work was an ability to clear her mind and focus her fertile brain on one set of problems at a time. Her life was like a ship, divided into watertight compartments, each sealed from the other, so at that moment she was able to put practicalities to one side and concentrate on the vision in her mind. "There'll be a lot to do of course, but it's a lovely house and quite a bit of land, and if all we lack is a little money I've a whole book full of wealthy well-placed names who owe me favours from the past."

"How sly you are. You never mentioned having lofty connections."

Miriam simpered tranquilly. "I wouldn't wish to be accused of name dropping, darling, but I'm on more than nodding terms with a good number of influential people, and they all know there's nothing ordinary about me. I couldn't possible go begging to them for day-to-day handouts of course, but for an enterprise with potential I've no qualms about asking them to stand some initial expense. Having superintended an orphanage prior to coming here there's not much I don't know about managing children, and teaching at the kind of school I envisage won't require a lot of academic background. The humdrum and mundane would be intolerable, so what I intend is a kind of charm school."

Her eyes sparkled. "You've always had a contempt for men and a predilection for bullying little boys, so you'll enjoy what I have in mind, Jennifer. It will be an academy dedicated to Strict Mistress Control and Sissy Training for submissive, effeminate male maids and pantywaist she-males. The fools will be forced into being little girls. We'll eliminate their masculine traits and induct them into girlhood, then train them as servants and companions before selling them off to people who appreciate such things."

Jennifer's eyes lit up. "Gosh! What a novel idea - a whole school full of pansy-boys wearing skirts! I love the notion, but isn't it an immense risk? Putting boys into frocks as only ever been a hobby for me."

Miriam breathed easily. "I don't intend to wear you out Jennifer, we'll do this properly and employ staff - ladies just as mean as yourself, dear. And there's absolutely no risk. It will surprise you just how easy the pupils can be placed after a course of domestic instruction. There's a clandestine enthusiasm among certain people to decorate their homes with effeminate boys, so we'll aim for the top end of the market, slice in above those who make do with au pairs and court the well-placed wealthy families who prefer professionally trained staff. I predict we can initiate quite a trend if a constant supply can be maintained."

Looking at her mother Jennifer's head cocked to one side as she became enthralled by the outrageous proposal. "A whole school full of beautiful boys wiggling around in tiny skirts! Ah, yes! I do love the thought. I say, you will only have pretty ones, won't you? Young cuties always inspire such wonderful wickedness in me and they bleat so endearingly when I'm cruel to them."

"Naturally physical appeal will be paramount and will predetermine their suitability, my sweet. After all, I intend them to be a commodity with a high price-tag when I'm done with them."

"Wow! Such an inspired idea deserves much more than just a shoulder rub, Mummy dearest."

Without another word the girl slid her mother's bra up out of the way and closed her hands over her bare breasts, curling her thumbs above the nipples to squeeze gently and make them bulge. Miriam's eyes flickered. She wasn't buxom, but despite being in her thirty-fifth year her breasts retained a pert tension in appearance and were sensitive to being rolled and moulded by skilled hands.

By the door loomed the large figure of Gloria the housekeeper, her plump face was a stony mask, yet her eyes smouldered with a curious fire.

"Will yous ladies be needin' any 'elp?" she asked.

Miriam sighed with delight. Stretching and luxuriating like a great cat, she began to relax.

  

  

  

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