Female Led Relationship

By Priscilla Bouffant
(A Cassandra Sisterhood Romance)


One too many illicit trysts led to me becoming a one-woman girl.

Chapter I: A Perfectly Demure Wife

    I checked my Lady Movado wrist-watch. I didn’t want to be late for my salon appointment at “Delightfully Ambrosia.” Gladys Millstone, who was the proprietor, as well as my very strict charm school tutor, was putting rose gold highlights in my honey-blond tresses.
    I daintily opened my compact and a tube of coral pink lipstick. I carefully touched up my face with some blush and powder. Of course, as always, I delightfully freshened my lipstick. I clicked my compact closed and put my purse over my left shoulder. I swung my hips as I minced to my husband’s office door, perched delicately on my five-inch stiletto heels. I knocked, lightly.
    My husband, Phyllis Demarche, was on a phone call. She glanced thru the glass to the left of the door and motioned for me to enter. I only stepped a few feet into her office and waited silently and motionlessly. She ignored me as she did business.
    My last name, even prior to when we were remarried, in a ritualistic Cassandra Sisterhood ceremony, is also Demarche. My full, legal name is, Cecily Leeanna Demarche. Cecily of course, is the feminization of my former name, Cecil.
    When she completed the call, Phyllis shuffled thru some paperwork on her desk. She checked her email and closed the lid on her laptop.
    “Yes, Cecily. Was there something you wanted to speak to me about? You appear ready to go somewhere?” Phyllis asked.
    “Yes ma’am, Ms. Demarche. I have a hair appointment with Ms. Millstone, this afternoon,” I said.
    I would never dare call her Phyllis or darling in the workplace. She wouldn’t hear of it. Such salutations were acceptable in the boudoir or the dinner table, but never in the office. In the workplace she would always be Ms. Demarche.
     There was one other thing I wanted to ask her, but I was afraid of her response. I desperately wanted to implore her to allow me to change into a pair of pink exercise shoes for the four blocks walk to the salon.
    I knew she wouldn’t let me drive there. She can be as thrifty as she is sometimes extravagant. I knew what she would say. It would be a waste of gas and I would have to pay to park. We have free parking at our building.
    My feet simply ached from the sitting, standing and walking in those horrid heels all day long. She never allows me to slip off my heels at my desk either. She finds it unladylike and rude.
    “Oh, yes, of course, Cecily. The beauty parlor. For highlights, and a hot roller set, I believe? You know dear, I simply adore those five-inch heels on you. They make your long legs look just stunning. I really need to consider keeping you in five or six-inch spike heels all of the time, especially here at the office,” she said to my growing dismay.
    “Was there something else you wanted to say to me, or ask me, Cecily? I can tell, you know? I can read you like a book Cecily,” she smirked.
    “Well, yes ma’am Ms. Demarche. Please, just this once ma’am, could I wear my pink exercise shoes to the salon? I have them in my gym bag in the trunk of my Acura,” I begged pitifully.
    Her glare directed at me was intense. I knew I’d said the wrong thing. Now she would say no, of course. This time though, she really unloaded on me.
    “Seriously Cecily? You want to clomp into a high-end beauty salon wearing exercise shoes? I think not, Cecily. You’re wearing seamed silk hose and a lovely linen blazer with a matching pencil skirt. My gracious, girl. Have you no shame? Can you not fathom how utterly bumbling and gauche you would appear to everyone concerned?” Phyllis said, amazed.
    “Cecily, I realize you are not very bright. But for once in your life, couldn’t you utilize what little brains you have?” I’m so very disappointed in you Cecily. Do you think I’ve spent countless hours and dollars, emasculating you, so you can traipse thru the streets of San Francisco, shod like a destitute bag lady?” Phyllis asked.
    “As your husband, mentor and employer, how do you think that would make me look? You not only represent me, as you are my wife, but you represent Demarche Luxury Properties and Realty Management, as my employee. Oh, I know. Poor little Cecily’s teeny tootsies must hurt from mincing around in her tall heels all day?” Phyllis said mockingly.
    “Well absolutely not young lady and you should know better. Now, if I were you, I’d move right along and have my hair done. Don’t dawdle. If my very dear, long time, Cassandra Sister, Gladys Millstone, tells me you were even two seconds late, you’ll receive a paddling from me, you won’t ever forget, girly,” Phyllis added dismissing me.
    “I’m very sorry for asking such a foolish question Ms. Demarche. It won’t happen again, ma’am,” I added, sniffling and overstaying my welcome.
    “Cecily! Please don’t be late. I dearly hope you don’t think I’d ever allow you to parade about so unglamorously attired. Now then. Let’s not discuss this any further Cecily. I don’t want to hear any more about it, please?” Phyllis intoned.
    I was nearly in tears when I arrived at Gladys’s hair salon. I abhor disappointing Phyllis. From there, I would drive home to prepare dinner. I composed myself in the waiting area. Nicki, Ms. Gladys’s shampoo boy, got me ready for Gladys by washing my hair. Nicki was just the sweetest boy.
    I estimated that any day now, Nicki would be glammed up as “Nicole” or “Nicolette,” and taking charm classes with me every other Saturday at Ms. Gladys’s “Perfectly Charming Institute of Allure. “
    Gladys had me sit at her station as she readied me, by wrapping me in a protective salon cape. She fingered my hair idly, holding me by the chin and turning my head left and right.
    “So, my darling, dainty Miss Cecily. Have you been a good, little wife for Ms. Demarche these days?” Gladys, the austere, matronly, authoritarian asked.
    “Yes, ma’am, Ms. Millstone. I try my very best to be the perfect wife to Ms. Demarche,” I simpered.
    I knew very well what to say. I’d spent untold hours preening and sashaying about in Ms. Millstone’s charm classes. I knew very well she expected unwavering perfection from all of her acolytes. I’d also felt the sting of her paddle or heavens forbid, her birch rod, for my transgressions.
    “Very well then, Cecily. Are you looking forward to getting rose gold highlighting, darling? Your husband asked me to allow enough time to give you a hot roller set, also. You always look so cute and sexy with springy curls. Maybe she’s planning on seducing you?” Gladys asked provocatively.
    Somehow, I’ve always felt so very aroused whenever I’m in a salon. I love seeing myself in a mirror, wearing makeup, with my hair in curlers or foil wrap. It’s so scandalously girlish. Even the task of reapplying my lipstick, something I do several times daily, brings me great sensuality.
    My growing worldly fascination with feminine fashion, beauty and style, seemingly coincided with my seeking out an alternative remedy for a series of attacks, of horrific headaches, I’d been experiencing. Thru our family physician, Doctor Anna Cable, plus Phyllis’s GYN, Doctor Eva San-Moritz, I was recommended to see an Herbalist, Doctor Amanda Liu.
    During and after the Herbal Therapy sessions, with Doctor Liu, I was privy to a number of reveries, illusions and dreams. During these imaginings I was dressed, made up and/or coiffed as a female and in the presence of Phyllis, while in erogenous circumstances.
    To this day, those femininely induced carnal moods strike me almost spontaneously. Especially when I am fortunate enough to enter that inner sanctum of hyper-femininity, the full-service beauty salon and ladies’ spa.
    Ms. Gladys began by giving me a very light trim, before she sectioned my hair and put in the foil wrapping. Once she had painted in the rosy gold  lights, she had me sit under a warm dryer and handed me a Good Housekeeping magazine. I had just enough time to read a recipe for a Vegan Chili dish.
   After a warm water rinse and a protein enriched conditioning, she combed thru my newly shimmering tresses, before handing me a tray of heated hair curlers. As Gladys combed and sectioned my damp hair, I handed her whatever roller she requested.
    Gladys had always believed that all of her “girls” should become fully and devotedly involved in their own emasculation. That meant looking over preferences for hairstyles, becoming avid readers of beauty and fashion magazines, or in my present case, assisting with the setting of my own hair.
    While the hot rollers did their magic, Gladys had me practice walking with one hand on my hip, with my other hand held up just high enough, to keep the strap of my handbag nestled carefully in the crook of my arm.
    I can’t think of a more girly exercise than that, while prancing around a beauty parlor, with my hair put up in hot rollers. When she did brush my tresses out, and give me a final spray with scented lacquer, I felt so glam. My gorgeous locks just looked so curly and shiny!
    My hair is kept in a shoulder length, side parted, page boy flip. I do wear it up when Phyllis wants me to. However, she prefers me in a girly flip style “do” much of the time.
    I couldn’t wait for Phyllis to see me! Once I arrived home, I started dinner immediately. I’d decided on a veggie casserole, with baked cod, a tossed salad and a well-aged Sauvignon Blanc.  When Phyllis’ Mercedes sedan pulled up our long drive, I raced to the door to greet her.
    My husband Phyllis is quite the head-turner. At five feet and ten inches in height she is a full inch taller than me. As she insists I stay splendidly slim, she likely weighs a taut, twenty pounds or slightly more over my svelte, girlish, 125 pounds.
    Phyllis has a womanly boson and plump voluptuous hips. She is hardly “full-figured” though. Her waist is still very well defined, and her vigorous physical activity keeps her body trim, fit and firm.
    She wears her stunning auburn hair in various styles. Her favorite is a tightly coiled upsweep which makes her appear taller and yet more imposing. Her cosmetics application is always flawless.
    I curtseyed to my husband and took her briefcase as I handed her a glass of wine. She sat in the living room, sipping the wine. I walked very near to her and curtseyed again.
    “Darling, dinner should be ready in ten minutes. Could I do anything for you or get you anything, dear?” I asked.
     “No. Let me look at you, princess. Twirl around slowly my pet. Very nice. I love what Gladys did with your hair. Come here to me sweet girl. There now. Mumsy was a little hard on her girly-girl today, wasn’t she? Kiss me, pet. That’s it. Mumsy needs to make up with Cecily-girl tonight, doesn’t she?” Phyllis cooed.
    Oh, my goodness! She really did know how to make me feel special. She’d put down her wine glass, stood up and hugged me. The kiss she’d given me was so full of promise. I loved it when she drank, and her breath had just the right amount of alcohol aroma on it.
    “Well precious, you smell really nice and something in the kitchen smells lovely. Why don’t you pour yourself a glass of wine and we’ll see what you have cooked up for dinner?” Phyllis suggested.
     We each had two glasses of wine with dinner. The bottle was nearly empty. I was clearing away the table when Phyllis held up the bottle of wine we’d nearly finished.
    “Do we have another of these? We do? Where is it? I’m taking one to my boudoir and getting changed into something comfy and sexy. Why don’t you do the same and join me?” Phyllis winked, puckering her lips, and giving me an air kiss.
    I hurried to make the kitchen and dining area presentable. Phyllis was already quite well off and established in her career, as well as in her business when we met. At twenty-six years old I am a full ten years her junior. We live in a very large, opulent home, on over an acre of property in a gated, private community.
    I am clueless as to what type of fortune Phyllis has amassed. From gossip and comments, I have heard, I would estimate she is a millionaire at least a few times over. Because Phyllis cherishes her privacy we sleep in separate boudoirs. Of course, Phyllis uses the Master-suite as she is my Master and Master of the house.
   Her boudoir is extravagant and luxurious. I sleep in a smaller, very femininely appointed, guest-sized boudoir, with an attached bath. Only when Phyllis requires my presence and services in her boudoir do we share her marriage bed. I feel privileged any time she chooses to favor me with sharing her bed and servicing her sexually.
    On this occasion I prepped carefully, checking my hair and makeup and applying the right amount of scent. I wore a red, baby doll nightie combo with sexy marabou slippers. I was so glad I’d just been to the salon. Lastly, I removed my ever-present butt-plug.
    When I arrived in her room, Phyllis had a glass of wine on her night table along with a double ended dildo. Tossing a business magazine to the side, she motioned for me to slither under the coverlet with her. She immediately embraced me, laying me on my back.
    Positioning herself on top of me she kissed me vehemently and rubbed all over my aroused body. She spoke to me in a husky, throaty, contralto.
    “Well, Miss Cecily. It’s Friday night and we’ve no place to go but my bed. Such a pretty girl I have here with me. I’ve thought about having you lick my puss, but we’ll save that for later. After all, it’s a long weekend,” she laughed gutturally.
    “No, I think we’ll begin with me screwing that tight little ass of yours. You took out your plug? Good girl, Cecily. You love it when I screw your ass, don’t you Cecily? I can see the anticipation in your pretty blue eyes right now, honey,” Phyllis smiled.
    “Just look at you. Why, you’re pretty enough to eat, with those platinum curls and big, puffy red lips. You’re all mine Cecily. It’s like I designed you. Oh, I know. You had some doubts and there were minor struggles. But, essentially, you knew what I was doing to you. And you knew it was the best course of action, for everyone, Cecily,” Phyllis continued.
    “You’re my sissy dream girl, honey. After all baby, you were really such an absolute failure as a boy-person. I had no choice. There really wasn’t anything left to do but save you from yourself and turn you into my sissy-wife. You’re crying Cecily. But I know those are tears of unquestionable surrender and unconditional bliss!” Phyllis teased.
   “Come to me baby, let me love you. Oh, what is this? I think I found your fat little sissy clitoris? It’s really ready, isn’t it? Well, we won’t be using that for the time being. Turn over darling. Mumsy will put one end of the dildo inside of her puss and the other inside of Sissy Cecily’s sissy-ass,” Phyllis added.
    “Sissy Cecily? That kind of has a sing-song sort of ring to it. Doesn’t it? Open your asshole up wide honey and breathe the way Mumsy taught you. There we go, it’s all the way up inside of you. You’re getting really good at this, baby!” Phyllis exclaimed as she worked one end of the double-ended dildo deep inside my rectum.
    As always, she’d lubed the dildo and my plump sissy-ass liberally. I loved it when she took charge. She was almost as robust and manly in her sense of assertiveness as I was girly and feminine in my essence of devoted subservience. I accepted the faux penis pleasurably and fully into my prostate passage.
    Since Phyllis had began taking me to see her GYN, Doctor Eva San-Moritz, I’d been given anal exams which included unyielding prostate “milking.” At this point any excessive titillation of my prostate resulted in a spasmodic and spontaneous reaction, causing my erected penis, to spew ejaculate uncontrollably.
   I was reaching that apex and began mewling in anticipation. Phyllis cared little whether I spewed or not. Regardless, she had one end of the dildo in her vagina and the fingers of her right-hand nurturing her clitoris. Her orgasm would come in her due time. My release was imminent and then my dam suddenly erupted.
    My effeminate and unmanly shrieking gave true evidence of that. Phyllis laughed heartily as her bellicose assault on my rectum continued unheeded. Underneath my penis, visible, as I was on hands and knees, was a used, soiled pair of Phyliss’s panties. I was aware of their purpose.
   As I spewed my sticky semen I used one hand to point my penis downward. I managed to further soak the panties with my gooey discharge. My head held downward, I shamefully allowed Phyllis to continue her unabashed pounding of my shredded, sore, asshole.
   At long last, mercifully, Phyllis climaxed, joyously, and so womanly, as she slowed the pace of my buggering. We were both gasping, albeit, happily. She rolled off of me and slapped my buttocks. I laid down beside her and we snuggled.
    I felt her reach for the panties and I knew my fate. She handed me the panties and poured me a half glass of wine.
    “Here sugar. Have a nice wine and sperm cocktail. My panties should be nice and juicy. I’ve worn those all day. Right after you left my office I locked the door and masturbated. Just now, just prior to you entering the room, I cleaned the crack of my ass with those sexy briefs,” Phyllis laughed.
     “So darling, Bon Appetit and Salut! And please dearest, don’t even think about kissing me until you’ve brushed your teeth and rinsed with antiseptic mouthwash,” Phyllis smiled as I began sucking the sperm from her sullied underwear.

Chapter II: Cecil in Wonderland

    The headaches and stomach cramps had become debilitating. I could no longer go to work. Phyllis made me an appointment with her family doctor, Anna Cable. I had a difficult time sleeping. I’d even lost my girlfriend Sheree. She’d had wearied of me breaking dates.
    I’d begun seeing Sheree, after two years of marriage to Phyllis, every time Phyllis went out of town on business. Sheree wasn’t any great loss at the time that she dumped me. It was just embarrassing, because she was a real slut. Luckily Phyllis didn’t have a clue.
    After the initial consultation, exam and bloodwork with Doctor Cable, we went back in for the results. I hoped for some measure of relief. The meds I was taking had only provided temporary respite. Doctor Cable seemed upbeat.
    “Cecil, I’m thrilled to be able to tell you I have some very good news. I was hoping we could stay away from the strong Migraine drugs, and we can. Because Cecil, what you are having are not migraines. I consulted with a colleague, a GYN named Eva San-Moritz. You see Cecil, your symptoms and the bloodwork strongly mimicked the indicators for a female suffering from Post-Partum Depression,” she said.
    “Eva is my GYN, Anna. She’s a terrific practitioner,” Phyllis chimed.
    “Yes, she is, and she agrees with me. She says that these symptoms do occur in males with high stress jobs and other issues. She has been sending most all of her Post-Partum patients to a Doctor of Herbal Therapies named Amanda Liu. Doctor Liu’s treatments are completely safe with minimal side effects if any,” Anna Cable added.
    “This is sounding fabulous. Why don’t you give us a referral then? We need to get Cecil some relief and maybe closure as soon as we can,” Phyllis asked.
    “I’ll do better than that. I’ll call and setup the entire six-month therapy right now. I think it’s weekly visits for three months, and twice monthly for another three months. I’ll call this instant. Saturdays are good for you Phyllis?” Anna asked.
    It was as if I wasn’t in the room. I wanted to say something as I was being ignored. Yet, if Herbal Therapy or whatever, would relieve my headaches, cramps, lack of sleep and depression, I was all for it. Anything, really. The stress may have been coming from my infidelity.
    I’d go for almost anything, but the next qualifier bothered me. Doctor Cable spent quite a bit of time on the phone, taking notes, smiling and saying, “Yes, I see.” Finally, she hung up smiling.
   “I set up all of your appointments for six months. From 8 AM Saturday morning until 10 AM. The treatment lasts an hour but there is a prep and an aftermath. One last thing. For the six-month duration of the treatment, Cecil will need to denude his body of all hair, with the exception of his eyebrows and the hair on his head,” added Doctor Cable.
   My mouth hung open and I was speechless. Before I could say anything, Phyllis chimed in.
    “That is hardly a deal breaker. Not with the seriousness of this malady. I have depilatory and ladies’ razors in my bath. Or he can always get a leg and bikini wax at “Delightfully Ambrosia,” Phyllis added as both women broke into laughter.
    I said little or nothing on the way home. Phyllis reiterated that whatever procedure was needed to rid me of the problem, we were going to follow it.
    “Cecil, I think it’s the stress of you doing all of the appraisals. Well, when you return to the office, I plan on splitting that workload. You know I’ve hired a mature woman to fill-in while you are debilitated. Her name is Calista Marlowe and she’s doing a fantastic job for me. I plan on keeping her in the field and you at your desk upon your initial return to the workplace,” Phyllis stated.
    “I’ll have Calista appraising the properties, and you answering the phones, setting up her appointments and entering her data into our database. Now, here we are at the house, let’s get you coated in depilatory and into the shower,” Phyllis stated.
    That very Saturday, embarrassed, hairless and naked, I sat on a wide, treatment table in Doctor Amanda Liu’s office. I could barely believe Doctor Liu had no problem with me not having a stich of clothing on. I wasn’t going to complain as she was this gorgeous, Asian-American female.
   For some reason I had imagined her to be an elderly Chinese lady that spoke sing-song broken English. Hardly. She explained that from the bloodwork and symptoms she’d need to treat my head and scalp area, along with my “bosom,” buttocks and groin region.
    She kept referring to my pectorals as my “bosom,” so I finally relented and stopped correcting her. I was glad that Phyllis was staying until the treatment actually began. Doctor Liu used herbs, ground up and mixed into a clay-like poultice.
    My hair which now nearly touched my shoulders, was in a bun on top of my head, so as to be out of the way. Amanda Liu applied the first poultice to my scalp and forehead. Then she wrapped all of that tightly, with a gauzy binding. Next, she applied a similar poultice mixture to my pectoral region. Again, she wrapped that tightly with a gauze bandeau.
    The final application was slightly more involved. She had me lay on my stomach while she applied an herbal pack to my butt cheeks. She placed a cloth wrapping over that and turned me over carefully onto my back. Then she applied another pack to my groin area, including my penis and testicles!
    What? To my surprise Phyllis didn’t say a word although she did smirk slightly when I became erect. Then Amanda Liu tied off the large cloth towel she’d wrapped around me. It was as if I were wearing a diaper! Amanda set up ultra-violet heat lamps at all three places she had placed herb packs.
    After she turned the lamps on, she dimmed the lights in the room, put a silken sleep mask over my eyes, put headphones over my ears and turned on the eerie music. She had already told me she was leaving the room and submerging it into darkness.
    In the dark, quiet, sealed off room, I felt the heat lamps warming the treated areas of my body. The music became slightly louder. It was an interesting mixture of strings, woodwinds, cymbals, bells, chimes and drumming. Then, operatic, high soprano female voices began singing in a tongue I didn’t recognize.
   The language sounded mystic and ancient. Along with the singing was some chanting and even soft speaking voices. At some point I lost contact with the music and must have drifted off, becoming so relaxed.
    Then I had the most unusual dream or apparition. The strange thing is I would continue to have similar visions, of these sorts for some time. In this case I felt like I was on something soft, maybe a cloud. Then I realized I was laying on a very comfy lounging couch or divan.
    The real softness was the beautiful, elaborate, soft, silky robe I was wearing. It just wasn’t any robe, it was a women’s lounging robe, like a female would wear after a perfumed bubble bath. In my mind I’d just had a luxurious, scented bubble bath. My hair was very thick, very long and a shimmering platinum blond.
    It was piled on top of my head and tied with a ribbon. I casually reached for a bottle of something. I untied my hair and let it fall to my shoulders. I tossed my head back saucily. Then I poured some of the contents of the bottle into my hands and smelled my hands and smiled.
   I then lavished the lotion thru my hair as my long, painted fingernails stood out, beautifully. I felt so gorgeous! The dream became quite vivid and very real. Indeed, I was a beautiful female! My toenails were painted, and I wore high-heeled slippers with laces up my ankles.
   I fixed my freshly oiled hair up on top of my head, yet again, and picked up a hand-held mirror. When I looked in the mirror my face was painted with beautiful makeup including heavy mascara and thick red lipstick. Finally, my penis erected, and I could see it peek thru my silken robe. I smiled and grabbed hold of my cock.
   As I looked into the mirror at my beautiful hair and face, I began to masturbate with my oily hand! I loved the way I looked and how feminine I was. The last thing I remembered from that dream was the ejaculate spurting from my penis. Then I could hear my voice screeching wildly in ecstasy.
   On the ride home from the Herbalist’s office that day I was embarrassed. When I’d came to, after my herbal therapy, the doctor had informed me that my “diaper” had a large discharge of semen in it. Phyllis was standing right there when she told me.
    Doctor Amanda said not to concern myself as it occasionally happened to some of the males she treated. I was still so ashamed. I was more embarrassed and disturbed, that I’d become turned on seeing myself dressed, coiffed and made up like a female. I felt like some sort of sissy.
    During the drive to the house, Phyllis innocently enough asked me if I’d had some sort of sexy dream due to the warming effect of the heat lamps?
    “No. I didn’t. Well actually I don’t recall. Oh, this is so humiliating!” I whimpered.
    “Cecil, get a hold on yourself. You had what is called a wet dream. There is a name for it because it happens. Mostly to pubescent boys just reaching puberty, but it doesn’t mean it can’t happen to someone your age. Look. Don’t get stressed. You just told me in the doctor’s office that you feel very refreshed and for the time being the headaches have subsided,” she smiled.
    “That’s great! Now, when we get home, you begin drinking a cup of the special herbal tea the doctor custom blended for you. One cup at 2PM, another at 10PM and another at 6PM. Three cups a day until the treatments are over, six months from now,” Phyllis again smiled.
    “We’ll have lunch, you can drink your tea and then I want you to lay down for a nice nappy-poo. Be a good boy for me. I’m going to take excellent care of you baby!” Phyllis said happily.
    The treatments continued weekly. The dreams did also. Sometimes I wasn’t even sleeping. I could be in bed with Phyllis, making love. Because the headaches were lessening, our lovemaking was getting back to normal.
    When I was making love to Phyllis, the dreams were more like little snapshots. Quick little visions or flashes. I’d see myself in a nightgown, with my hair in an upsweep. I’d be kneeling, giving Phyllis a pedicure, and we’d be girlishly gossiping. The maddening part was that it was erotic for me to be painting her toenails and looking so sweet.
   These visions didn’t affect our sex life. I didn’t think of them constantly. They just bothered me whenever they occurred. I simply couldn’t tell anyone about them. Plus, I continued to ejaculate into my “diaper” at Amanda Liu’s office. She stopped speaking of it, thankfully.
    I think she knew how much it bothered me. Possibly Phyllis had told her. But I knew the sperm was there. I could feel it, warm and gooey against my skin. Even with the herbal pack being there. For the time being I guessed I’d have to live with this until the treatments were over.
    After three months, Amanda Liu proclaimed me ready to begin my herbal therapy on a twice a month basis. I was relieved to be half way thru. However, another problem arose. My clothing was not fitting me properly. Additionally, I was getting chubby in all the wrong places.

Chapter III: A Materialization

    “Cecil you are not stopping the treatments. I will not have you jeopardizing your health this way. The treatments are not causing your body to change. Take off your shirt and your pants. Your underwear also. Hmm?” Phyllis paused taking a look at my chest and butt.
    “You certainly don’t have a well-rounded derriere such as mine. And you hardly have much more than two, very small, fleshy orbs for pectorals. Remember, you haven’t been working. Maybe you should come to exercise classes with me?” Phyllis said, changing the subject.
    “And another thing Cecil. Amanda is also treating your head area and your groin. Is there anything out of the ordinary happening there? In any event, what if there is a slim chance your body is changing due to your herb therapy? Would it be worth it, to give it up, midway thru, and have those migraine-like nightmares return?” Phyllis asked, raising her eyebrows. She was right. I wanted no parts of that agony.
    “You’ve been needing a complete wardrobe makeover anyway. I’ve been meaning to go thru your closets and dresser drawers for months. Today is Saturday. We have time this afternoon, let’s do it. In fact, I want to sift thru mine also,” she said, and we got started.
    When we were essentially done, most all of my clothing was packed up, boxed and ready to go to either consignment shops or charities. On the other hand, most of what Phyllis had decided to clear out of her closets and drawers, now belonged to me.
    She’d given me no dresses or skirts, thankfully. But there were plenty of blazers, “tops,” slacks, anklets, knee-highs, kilts and even shoes. When I questioned her on the shoes and stockings, she gave her usual, quick, glib answer.
    “Cecil, the shoes and socks you owned, would never look stylish enough with my slacks. Besides, we both need new things at this point. I don’t mind giving you my basics, because I get to buy new fashions for myself. I know just the shop where we can both can fully replenish our wardrobes from,” she said.
    “It’s called Elaine’s Unisex and Stylish Andros Fashions.” I’ll call ahead so we can line up our own personal sales lady. I’ve known Elaine for years from my ladies’ social club. We’ve got all day next Saturday. You don’t have a therapy session,” she noted.
    “What we really need to do. And I do mean the both of us. Is to have something done with our hair. Especially you Cecil. We can shop this coming Saturday. Then the following Saturday afternoon, after your therapy session, we can spend some time together at Gladys Millstone’s salon. You’ve never met Gladys. You’ll love her. I’ll make those calls now,” Phyllis said, walking into the living room.
    Later she said, happily, “We’re going to have so much fun together darling. Shopping for new clothes, trying things on, and modeling the clothing. What fun! And most of all dear, going to the salon together and having our hair done. Isn’t this exciting, for us? This is such a wonderful way for us to bond and share things together.”
    She was so overcome, she threw her arms around me and kissed, me. She practically carried me to the living room couch and pushed me to one end. She kissed me again and held me tightly. She began rubbing my penis thru my pants. It was so arousing.
    “Come darling. We’re going to bed. I’m not allowing this moment to pass. I feel so close to you right now. Can’t you feel it? Sharing clothes shopping and having our makeovers done together. So very, very sexy. Come along. I must have sex with you, love,” she insisted, as she practically drug me to the bedroom.
    Once in bed, I needed little stimulation. From her prompting about the salon, and getting makeovers, the snapshot type visions flooded dreamingly back. In my imagery, we were together again, bonding like two girls, this time in a salon. She was having her nails painted. My hair was in small curlers. I clearly heard Phyllis tell the stylist I’d look just lovely with a perm.
     My erection exploded. Phyllis was on top of me pumping up and down. I gasped. What a humongous orgasm! I’d never had one like that. As my climax subsided, Phyllis got off of my penis. She smiled and looked at me. She licked her painted lips.
    “Well darling. I’ve not been satisfied. So, before you take your nap, you’ll need to suck my puss. I don’t like being left hanging. So, get over here, between my thighs and get to work. You can begin by sucking all your salty scum from my twat. How does that taste?” Phyllis asked with a seductive smile.
    For the very first time ever, I sucked sperm from Phyllis’s vagina. When she was satisfied, that she was now properly cleaned out, she had me bring her to a shuddering climax. While we lay together in each other’s arms, she said, “This is so nice. You are such an angel for agreeing to do such very prissy, girly things with me. What a doll you are my lovely Cecil. I’m so very proud of you.”
    That very next Saturday, walking into “Elaine’s” I was certain I would not be able to find anything I would ever wear. However, considering what I was attired in, I don’t know what I was thinking. I had on an outfit from Phyllis’s “hand me down” collection.
    It was what she called a “suit set.” It consisted of a Burgundy blazer with matching slacks. Of course, the cuffs on the slacks were flared, as were the ends of the sleeves on the blazer. The slacks did fit me well around my butt. The “top” I wore was white, with a V-neckline, a stand collar and a scalloped, button front.
    The black flats on my feet had a bow at the instep. The dark knee-high stockings were opaque. Naturally I wore a pair of Phyllis’s panties as my underwear no longer fit me and had been discarded. My hair was in a swirled ponytail and tied with a white-scrunchie.
    I thought I must have been a real sight, but no one in “Elaine’s” said a thing about my attire. In fact, Elaine rushed to meet us and called to a new salesgirl, Peggy, to assist us. Elaine stayed right by Phyllis’s side nearly the entire shopping excursion.
    Phyllis decided almost immediately that we wanted to look at, not only suit sets, but slacks and tops separates. The three suit sets she finally settled on for me, were cut nearly identical to the one I was wearing. One was in a charcoal grey. The other was navy blue with white pinstripes. The third was an olive-green shade.
    Then to my surprise Elaine spoke up, “All our suit sets come with matching shorts for summer. You do want the shorts, Phyllis. Don’t you dear?”
    “Yes, of course. Why don’t you try on the shorts, Cecil? I want to see how the pleats hang. Elaine. For summer, lets look at some camisole tops for Cecil, please? Something light and airy, in bright, fresh, summery, pastels, I would think,” Phyllis added.
     By the end of this outing, I didn’t think we could get all of the boxes and bags into Phyllis’s Mercedes sedan. But between the large trunk and the ample back seats, we managed. It wasn’t until we arrived home that I realized, that 80% of the items, including sleepwear, scarves and some handbags belonged to me.
    Upon the next Saturday, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with Phyllis’s choice for the outfit I’d be wearing to my herbal therapy, as well as to the salon. She chose the light olive-green suit set. However, as the weather was really warm, she picked out the matching shorts for me to wear with the blazer.
    Along with the shorts and blazer she fitted me out in a white, spaghetti strap camisole top. My anklet socks were white, opaque and turned down. The strappy sandals with one and a half-inch block heels were a light tan. Quite naturally I now owned a pair of white satin panties to slip into.
    She even handed me a small, tan handbag to carry my money and credit cards in. At the last minute, Phyllis received a call from Doctor Liu’s scheduling service. Doctor Liu’s sister had gone into labor and the doctor was going to the birthing center. My appointment was cancelled for two more weeks.
    “Well, the lady on the phone said, they will likely add another appointment at the end of the scheduling. Hmm? Why don’t we go out for breakfast? Our salon appointments aren’t until 11 AM. We could stroll thru the outdoor shopping area together and hold hands, darling,” she added as we walked to her vehicle.
    The spot Phyllis chose for breakfast wasn’t very crowded. They had a brunch later in the day that most people attended. The breakfast was delicious, and we took a walk later, holding hands. At one juncture, standing outside a very sumptuous, fashionable, ladies’ dress shop, Phyllis described the various styles on the mannequins in the windows.
    I was simply captivated by her knowledge of footwear, millinery, dress fabrics and shoes. I couldn’t have been more enthralled. I turned to her and smiled. We hugged and then kissed briefly. I was overcome emotionally. I pursed my lips to keep from crying.
   “Cecil. Are you all right, dear? Are you crying, my beautiful Cecil?” Phyllis asked.
    “I’m so sorry. I’m just being silly. I’m just so contented to be here with you. And I’m so thrilled to be married to such a brilliant woman. You know so much, and you are so well versed in ever so many things. Fashion, beauty, health, etiquette, business. I feel so inadequate when I compare myself with you. Oh Phyllis, I just feel so in love with you, right now,” I sobbed.
    She held me and cuddled me. I felt so soppy. She dabbed at my eyes and calmed me down. I finally stopped sobbing and was able to compose myself. Phyllis winked at me. In her heels she looked so much taller and stronger.
    “If we begin walking now we’ll be at the salon just a few minutes early. You’ll cheer up then. There’s nothing more fun than a couple of girls getting their hair and nails done together,” she smiled.
    I hardly noted she’d categorized me with the girls. My heels tapped out a very giddy, feminine click-clack, on the way to the salon. We were seated in the waiting area. Phyllis knew one of the ladies seated there from her ladies’ club. Phyllis introduced me as her spouse, Cecil. The lady said hello and looked me over, smiling, with her eyebrows raised. The salon receptionist was dealing with two phones.
   One was the hard-wired phone for answering calls from the outside. The other phone was a cell. On the cell she was taking calls within the salon. She took a call on the cell, looked around and saw Phyllis.
    “Ms. Demarche. So good to see you, as always. You continually look so striking, Ms. Demarche. Gwendolyn is ready for you now, ma’am. Is Cecilia or Cecily with you today? If so, Ms. Gladys is ready for her. Your shampoo girls will meet you inside, just beyond the beaded curtain,” smiled the receptionist.
    “You must mean my spouse, Cecil, who Gladys is doing today. Come along Cecil, darling. We shan’t keep our hairdressers waiting. Time to get our relaxing shampoos,” Phyllis said as she led me into the salon proper.
    She was so correct. Having a stylish salon cape wrapped around me and getting shampooed by an attractive female was just so very relaxing. Kendra, my shampoo girl led me to a large, secluded alcove, where Phyllis was seated chatting with two ladies. Kendra seated me next to Phyllis.
    In front of me was a styling table holding all the implements and hair care products for salon hair styling. Attached to the table was a three sided, wrap-around mirror. Phyllis introduced me to the two women. A pink towel had been wrapped turban style around my freshly shampooed hair.
    “Gwen, this is my spouse, Cecil. Cecil this is my stylist, Gwen. Gladys, meet Cecil, my darling spouse. Cecil, Gladys is your hairdresser today and she is also the owner of this sensational establishment,” Phyllis smiled.
    After the introductions, the very imperious Ms. Gladys Millstone, first removed the towel from my wet hair. She then combed a scented hair care product through my long hair and began trimming the split ends. She, Phyllis and Gwen, chatted amicably as I listened. They discussed business, fashion, current events and general gossip concerning mostly women they knew.
    I did note that Gladys was changing the way I parted and styled my hair. I usually just combed it back or tied it into a ponytail. I really didn’t have a “part” in my hair to speak of. Gladys sectioned my hair to part right down the middle.
     Not only that, she was giving me a set of longish bangs, trimmed neatly across my forehead, ending about the width of an index finger above my eyebrows.
    It wasn’t until Kendra, the shampoo girl, began assisting Ms. Gladys with mixing hair dye, that I discovered I was getting my light brown hair, dyed to a honey-blonde shade. When I heard them discussing my color I looked over at Phyllis with my eyebrows raised.
    She smiled and spoke, “Cecil has never had his hair colored. He’s usually had his hair trimmed at one of those chain, hairstyling shops,” she smiled.
    “Well, there is really nothing to worry over Cecil. I’m using a high-lift, permanent hair dye so there will be no harsh, bleaching process. We’ll also need to thin, re-shape and tint your eyebrows to match your hair. Kendra. Could you get a manicurist over to me, to do Cecil’s fingernails? Plus, I’ll need some zip waxed heated to do his brows,” Ms. Gladys requested.
   Oh wow! I’d came here for a simple haircut. That had developed into a new hairstyle, bangs, hair coloring, a manicure, plus an eyebrow wax and tint. What was next? A facial? No, I wouldn’t be getting a facial. However, I was in for, at the very least, one more big surprise.
    There was so much going on with me I didn’t even have time to look over and see what Phyllis was having done. My fingers were being soaked in some sort of lotion. Then while Gladys sectioned my hair, and applied the hair dye, the manicurist was fitting me for nail extenders.
    “These are the shortest extensions we have. They simply help your real nails grow in stronger and healthier. I’ll put a couple of coats of clear lacquer on to protect them,” the manicurist added.
    With the hair color now taking and my nails wet with the first coat of lacquer, Ms. Gladys applied the wax to my eyebrows and zipped off a portion of each brow. Ouch! Then she “cleaned up” my brows with a pair of tweezers. Now she used an applicator to tint my eyebrows to match my new, honey-blonde hair.
    When the second coat of lacquer was applied, I figured we’d be going very soon. Phyllis was standing, talking to both Gwen and Gladys. Phyllis looked fabulous. They had put her hair up in her favorite hair-style. A high fashion, coiled upsweep. Her makeup had been redone.
    While I was thinking about us making our exit, I heard Miss Gladys say, “That’s an excellent idea Phyllis. Why don’t we see what he’d look like with a permed sort of look?” Gladys asked.
    “I’m not getting a perm, today am I?” I asked, incredulously.
   “No darling, not today. You can’t get a perm or highlights for at least two more weeks. In fact, I don’t want you shampooing for at least 72 hours. Not until Tuesday evening at the very earliest. No, I’m just putting some perm rollers along the back and sides of your hair. See how nicely it falls now?” Gladys asked, fluffing the ends of my long, straight page-boy.
    She was right. My hair fell to just above my shoulders in a perfect page-boy style cut. The bangs were flawlessly symmetrical. Too bad neither the style or color was anything the average male on the street would want for their own hair.
    When she started to put the perm rods in my hair, along with setting gel, I sat transfixed and motionless. Gwen had gone on to her next customer. Phyllis stood off to my left. Gladys took great care with the perfect positioning of each wave rod. And she assured all the rods were very tightly set in my hair.
    With the lights surrounding the mirror making my honey-blonde hair shimmer, I imagined myself with full makeup on, just as Phyllis and Ms. Gladys were wearing. As the rollers enveloped my head, I began to grow an erection. I was getting so turned on, watching my hair being done. My eye brows were now so sharply arched and seductive.
    When Gladys had completed my set, she and Phyllis went to the cashier as Phyllis wanted to pay and tip for the services rendered. They told me they would return, and Gladys would finish me off with a blow dry, styling and final spray.
    I barely heard them as I was mesmerized with the very feminine image I saw in the mirror. No real males had their hair bobbed, colored honey-blonde or set on perm rods. Real males didn’t wear camisoles, get their brows waxed, or mince on block heeled sandals. Even glancing at my fingernails, I could see there was just a hint of coral pink mixed in with the clear polish.
   My erection grew, and I hoped I could escape the salon without staining my burgundy shorts or being seen with a lump poking thru the front of those shorts. For now, the long, protective cape obscured my swollen penis. Gladys returned with a flat-front, hand held dryer. As the dryer whirred I sniffed the scent of the setting gel.
   The miasmic cacophony of scents surrounding me in this inner sanctum of hyper-femininity was astonishing. These scents whirled about me in a thought-provoking stream of stimuli. The distinctive aromas of Hair color, mixed with perm solution, perfume, powder, cosmetics, gels and lotions, all combined to assail my olfactory neurons to the point of distraction.
   Gladys Millstone judiciously removed my waving rods. I now saw the onset of my very feminine hairdo, as it began to form. Initially there were those tiny, tight, little curls usually left behind by the perming rods.
    Using a brush and the skillful strokes of a teasing comb, Gladys designed a fluffed, under-flipped page-boy, with plenty of volume. The very edges of the hair at my neckline were interspersed with springy curls and light waves. As she used a can of spray-net to hold my style in place I was upon the verge of a climax.
    Fortunately, Phyllis had insisted I carry a “hand-bag” which I knew was a lady’s purse. I now perceived I could hide the front of my shorts if I held my purse daintily with my right hand just in front of me. I had the choice of leaving the salon with an erection or with a soiled ejaculate stain.
    In the past I would have lost control, but I somehow avoided a shuddering climax. I would walk from the salon with a large erection, but I should be able to mask it, if I were careful. Phyllis smiled sexily and winked at me as I got to my feet.
    “He looks so special and lovely, Gladys. Cecil do thank Miss Gladys for your pretty ‘do’ and your lovely makeover,” Phyllis encouraged me.
     “Thank you, Ms. Gladys for my makeover and hairdo. I love it,” I said, the best I possibly could. I was practically in a trance. Because of the way I held the purse in front of my erection, plus the unaccustomed block heel shoes, I took tiny mincing steps down the street on the way to Phyllis’s car.
    We were on the interstate before Phyllis remarked, “Someone got very excited at the beauty parlor today. That was a lovely boner you had Cecil. I saw it as Gladys took away your cape. You don’t have to hide it with your purse any longer,” Phyllis remarked.
    I had to be blushing to my new blond roots. I felt so ashamed.
    “Cecil how much does this have to do with the ejaculations you’ve had during your Herbal Therapy sessions?” Phyllis asked looking over at me seriously while she drove.
    “I’m not sure. I mean, I don’t know. No, I can’t tell you Phyllis. It is much too shameful for me,” I blurted.
   “What? Cecil. We have been married three years. We dated for a full year before our marriage. Remember? We don’t keep secrets from each other. Secrets can ruin a person and a marriage Cecil. Now you will tell me what is going on,” she said in slight consternation.
    “Can we have lunch first? I’ll make us lunch and then I’ll tell you what I know and what has been happening to me. I’m not totally certain exactly what is going on myself,” I explained.
    “Hmm? Sounds mysterious. I can’t wait to hear this. Should be interesting.
    We sat in the living room after lunch. I began with my first dream during therapy. I advance to the imagery I had during lovemaking. I told her every, shameful detail, I could recall. I finally started sobbing. We were sitting across from each other.
   She crossed the room and sat next to me on the couch. She pulled me to her and placed my head in her lap. When I stopped sobbing she made me sit upright and had me lay my head on her shoulder.
   “Cecil. To begin with this is all okay. In fact, it’s all more than very okay to me. You’re telling me, you get sexually stimulated when you picture yourself being pretty and feminine. You’re also are stimulated picturing yourself in a sexual situation with both of us being pretty and feminine. Correct?” Phyllis asked.
    “So, what’s wrong with that? That’s nothing to be ashamed of. You have a feminine side. Everyone has a feminine side Cecil. Your female side just happens to be very strong in your case. You said you found it erotic to be kneeling at my feet, painting my toenails while you’re dressed as a pretty female,” Phyllis continued.
   “I’d love for you to do that. That would be so very, very sexy to me. Cecil right now you look pretty. If you had on makeup you’d look stunningly beautiful. What you described, concerning giving me a pedicure, is something a maid would do. Right now, you’re the housekeeper in this household. You cook and clean. You wait on me. Sometimes you give me a bath,” Phyllis added.
    “Those are things a lady’s maid would do. I’d have no trouble if you would perform all of those duties in female attire. I could go on and on honey, as to what I obviously see is your instinctive femininity coming out. The thing is Cecil, if those dreams and images turn you on, I’m completely okay with you being the pretty girlfriend and wife, in this relationship,” she said.
     I love you Cecil, and I’m essentially giving you the go ahead to be as femme and swishy, as your girlish heart desires,” she said throwing her arms around me and French kissing me.
    When we broke from the heated kiss she smiled at me. “Look at you. Such a very pretty honey-blonde, with very sexy, curly hair. You are such a beautiful, erotic sissy-boy. And you are my sexy, swishy, boy toy and I want to screw you Cecil. Get in my boudoir and get your clothes off,” Phyllis ordered, following behind me.
    “You know Cecil, I adore the way your hips swing when you mince in high-heels darling. I watched you walking today in your block heels. You’re such a living doll Cecil. And your shaved, long, hairless legs are just so Bambi-like and gorgeous. I’m going to screw your ass to the box springs, baby,” she said throatily.
    I stripped and sat on the bed. She took a negligee from the closet and a baby doll nightie set from her dresser and threw them next to me. Did she intend for me to wear one of those? When Phyllis undressed she sat at her vanity touching up her makeup.
    She turned and said to me, “Cecil, I’d like you to wear the negligee. It will feel lovely against your smooth, hairless body. Wait, though. I want to cover your skin with fragrant body lotion,” she added.
    She had me stand up and she coated my legs, arms, torso, genitals and buttocks with the lotion. Then she had me raise my arms, so she could put the negligee over my head and let it drift down my naked form.
    The last thing she did to fix her face was open a tube of lipstick. Then she carefully painted her lips a deep cherry red. She looked back at me thru the mirror. She winked. She knew why I was watching her, and she said so.
    “Cecil. Of late you always seem to watch me apply my lipstick. I think I know why, now. You want to wear some lipstick too. Don’t you? Come over here to me Cecil and sit to my left, so I can put some lipstick on you, my pretty girl,” Phyllis stated.
    I hesitated briefly, then I got up and sat down next to her. I turned to look into her eyes. She got out a lipstick wand and carefully outlined my mouth with a color called Sassy Crimson. Then she filled in between the outlines with a tube of Ruby Tuesday.
    We stood up and Phyllis put on the top and bottom of the baby doll set. Then she looked at me saying, “Two women kissing is a beautiful thing, Cecil. I want you to be a female right now. My girlfriend. My wife, Cecily. Kiss me now and feel the ultimate sexiness of two females kissing and their tasty lipsticks mingling.”
    We kissed, and I knew what she meant. It was splendid. Our lipsticks did mingle. They blended mystically, and paranormally. I could hear the strains of the stringed instruments I’d listened to in Herbal Therapy. Along with the mysterious drumming and soprano voices, that appeared to be from the ages gone by.
    During the sensual, so very powerful kiss, Phyllis untied the ribbon that held the top of my negligee so modestly closed. Her still, very creamy lips, found their way to one and then the other, girlish protuberances, upon my chest. Those charming spheres, that now formed my growing, pubescent bosom.
    When her pretty mouth found its way to the second orb, she aggressively bit the nipple. Then she gently formed her lips around it, suckling my new titty. This soothing moment caused me to emit a girlish, giddy squeal.
    “I want you in my bed, Cecily girl. Right now, honey. We have all day and all night to play. This is the first moment of our new, magical life together. We should both make this an event to permanently remember,” Phyllis commanded as she lifted me and carried me to the bed.
    I knew this very fit woman was quite strong. However, I had no idea she would be able to lift me, as if I were just a dainty damsel. She demandingly placed me upon her bed. That afternoon Phyllis virtually bequeathed me as her wife, Cecily. The sexual lead in our marriage now belonged to her.
    She positioned me between her legs where I licked and sucked her clitoris. Her juices flowed like a crystal stream and covered every inch of my face. Phyllis now mounted me, taking my swollen cock between her elegant thighs.
    Her vibrant pussy locked around my penis. She had taken charge of me sexually. Little did I know she was now in charge of my new life. As she bounced up and down upon my penis I felt beautiful and feminine. Though, I had no conception of how subservient, demure and feminine, Phyllis and her Cassandra Sisters could actually make me.
    Phyllis reached her sexual peak moments prior to me filling her puss with my ejaculation. We were both sated, spent and satisfied. We slept until late afternoon. Phyllis insisted I prepare a light dinner.
    After we’d eaten, and I’d made both the kitchen and dining area satisfactorily clean, Phyllis carefully laid out her plans for my further emasculation. I had thought we were going to play this sexual game where I dressed up as a girl, and we had sex. This was no longer a game.
    “Beginning tomorrow, Sunday, I want you to dress in full female attire, with makeup and coiffed hair, whenever you are here at the house. Then I’ll begin teaching you the nuances of speaking, acting, and comporting yourself as a female. For the time being, publicly, you may assume the identity of Cecil. Cecil is to be a very cute, submissive, androgyne,” Phyllis said.
    “You are to continue your Herbal Therapy to completion. You will also return to the office, part time. However, you will function as Calista’s secretary. At some juncture I will finally introduce you to the outside world as my wife, Cecily. Your role in our marriage, the workplace, and anywhere within the orbit of our relationship is to be one of subservience,” Phyllis ordered.
    “Secretary, housewife, maid, waitress, servant. Your kismet is to be one of deference. Deference to the girl within you, deference to the females around you. In general, capitulation to all things womanly. I know what’s best for you at this stage of your life, Cecily. You’re in my charge. I’ll care for you. Just acquiesce,” Phyllis ordered.
    “It will be best for you, for me and all concerned. That is the last I’ll speak of this, at this time. Do you have anything you’d like to say, besides to promise me your obedience and devotion, Cecily?” Phyllis asked.
    “Just to tell you that I will do my very best to absorb everything you want me to acquire, in order to please you, Phyllis,” I simpered.
    ‘Very well darling. Let’s look over your new wardrobe for tomorrow,” Phyllis smiled.

Chapter IV: Cecily in Training

    The following morning, I donned my first bra, and learned to tuck my penis properly into the “pocket” of a panty brief. The high-heels I wore that day were really high-heels. Not wedge or block heels. Three-inch pumps with slender, spikes. I wore a dark, pleated A-line skirt, and a white blouse with a Peter Pan collar.
    Dark pantyhose completed my very feminine attire. Phyllis gave me my first makeup application lesson. She assisted me in doing it soft and subtly, but to great effect. I became aroused when I was able to paint my own lips with a shade of Taffy Pink lipstick. My hair couldn’t be shampooed yet due to the recent coloring.
   I’d slept in a hairnet for the first time, the evening prior. Phyliss had me spritz my hair lightly with water and use a fingerstyle and hairspray, just to hold my present style. Then my girl lessons commenced.
    “I want to tutor you in three main areas today, Cecily. Walking, speaking and comportment. Comportment includes, sitting, standing, posing, gestures and body language. I’m going to grade you in all of these categories,” Phyllis explained.
    “By keeping you in at least three-inch heels here at the house, I will keep you in practice even when we aren’t doing lessons. You’ll be doing your housekeeping, cooking and waiting on me, all in girly attire. Let’s get started. Now Cecily, watch me. I’m going to act like a girl, who is taking a lunchtime stroll from her workplace,” Phyllis added.
    This turned into a really long day. I didn’t have a terrible girl’s speaking voice at all. I’ve never had a really deep voice. Plus, Phyllis had some throat spray that really helped me to modulate it. I did have to learn to annunciate more prissily. I didn’t do bad with gesturing, either. I’d worn my hair long for quite some time. So, I was used to doing those girlish things, such as playing with my hair, or tossing my head self-consciously.
    I had trouble though, keeping a rhythm when walking, and attempting to swing my butt from side to side, while taking tiny steps. Phyllis had an answer to the walking problem. It was called a “butt plug.” She said it was a “Victorian Era” method to train young girls to keep their mind on proper mincing.
    I didn’t like it one bit. Nor did I enjoy the warm, soapy water enema that preceded it. Once I evacuated my smelly bowels, I laid face down on my bed. When the headaches had first appeared, Phyllis and I began sleeping in separate boudoirs. “Boudoir” was now the term she wanted me to use for my bedroom.
    She had even picked out another guest boudoir for me to call my own. She’d recently hired a designer to adorn it in a really, fussy, femme, girly fashion. This woman and her staff would begin redecorating the room the following Monday. Until then, the current boudoir I was sleeping in would continue to serve as my bedroom.
    With me laying face down on my bed, Phyllis used Vaseline petroleum jelly to lubricate my anus, along with lubing the fat plug she intended to stuff into my bottom. She swiveled the plug back and forth in my rectum, as she instructed me on the proper breathing method to use, in order to receive and welcome the plug into my anal cavity.
    Once the plug was fully inserted, she repositioned my panty brief and had me stand. Then she proceeded to explain to me, how this anal intruder was going to aide me in achieving the very prissy, girlish, mincing gait, which she wanted me to develop.
    “It will be mildly uncomfortable initially, Cecily. But then, as it seats itself properly you’ll learn to appreciate what a terrific training aide this butt-plug really is. It will improve your posture, decrease your stride to a proper girlish mince, and serve as a continual reminder that you are attempting to attain a feminine demeanor,” she explained
    “Soon you will think of this plug as your ‘little friend,’ Cecily. By the way, honey. I’ve been speaking to all the ladies at the office individually and explaining about your transition. Within a month, I’m hoping to have you back to work as Cecily. You’re to be Calista Marlowe’s secretary,” Phyllis added.
    “Please don’t let us down, Cecily. We’re all looking forward to your return. Now, let’s try a bit more walking exercises,” Phyllis smiled.
    I attended two more Herbal Therapy sessions in the next month. For each I was attired a little less as an androgyne and more as a female. At the next session, I was fully femme as Cecily. Amanda Liu, my therapist even had me in the book as Cecily Demarche.
    After leaving Amanda’s office we drove quickly across town to Gladys Millstone’s salon where Gladys put the most stunning rose gold highlights in my honey blonde hair. My tresses now had an interspersed reddish tint throughout. That left us just enough time for to stop by Phyllis’s attorney’s office.
    There I filled out and signed all the paperwork necessary to register as a “Transgender Female” and apply for a transgender driver’s license. Phyllis instructed me to fill in the blanks under “name” with Cecily Leeanna Demarche. It was the name she had chosen for me.
    My first day back in the office I was quite nervous. Phyllis had me follow her in to the parking lot, to open the businesses doors at 7:30 AM. She wanted me to be able to drive myself home at 1:30 PM for some light housekeeping and to prepare dinner. That morning I looked at my new driver’s license photo with my highlighted tresses now styled in a new, side-parted, pageboy flip.
    Was I ready? At least the office was empty. I began the day by entering some of the appraisal data gathered by Calista from the day before. Calista Marlowe, my new, immediate supervisor greeted me with a slight, amused smirk.
    Then she said, “Welcome back to work Cecily. Give me a hug. Oh, honey you smell so nice! You’re going to make a wonderful secretary sweetie.”
    The first time I answered the phone, I chirped, “Demarche Properties. This is Cecily in appraisals. How can I assist you? Calista is on another line, currently. Could I take a message? Yes, I’m her new secretary.”
    The girls in the office all either dropped by to see me or I would cross paths with them during the week. They accepted me as Cecily. In fact, most of them told me that I was now much better off, as a femme. I loved leaving early each day to straighten the house and cook for Phyllis, before she got home at 5 PM.
    Keeping the house, cooking for he and waiting on her, really gave a purpose to my life I had not had prior to this. Each weekend, once my Herbal Therapy was completed, she began to have different lady friends stop over.
    Her plan was to show me off as her new Housewife/Maid. Though she had a couple of cute maid’s outfits to put me in, she usually preferred dressing me as the stereotypical, “little homemaker.”
   She’d have me set and tease my pageboy flip into an elaborately coiffed “do.” Then I would wear some four-inch strappy heels. I’d put on a black and white polka-dot dress, along with a black, heart shaped apron. My apron would be tied with a big bow in back to accentuate my trim waist and bubbled butt.
   Usually my “do” was the product of sleeping with my hair in curlers all evening and into the morning of the next day. My cosmetic application would be heavier than my usual daytime makeup. Phyllis liked me in very bright crimson lipstick, dark eye-liner and mascara, with soft pink blush and eye-shadow, whenever she had her lady friends over.
   Usually her visitors would be some combination of my hairdresser, Gladys Millstone, my current supervisor, Calista Marlowe, Elaine Peron, the boutique owner, and Suzanne Blackburn, Phyllis’s top sales agent, and assistant broker-in-charge. I’d serve drinks and always prepare and dish up a brunch.
    I was to curtsey when greeting the ladies, as well as when serving them. As any servant would be required, I was never to speak unless spoken to. Additionally, I was never permitted to dawdle and eavesdrop on what Phyllis considered “private conversations.” And as to these discussions, these confident ladies’ usual tête-à-têtes, mainly encompassed business, politics, finance and current events.
    Topics such as those were well beyond the limitations of my comprehension and intellect. These days, I simply adore watching Phyllis play tennis at the country club we belong too. But I have no clue what she or her opponent are doing, or what the rules are for the sport they are playing.
    I simply clap and titter when Phyllis appears to be doing well. After the tennis match I usually have to ask her, “who won?” Unless the subject matter being discoursed is makeup, hairstyles, fashion, housekeeping or casserole recipes, it is far over my head.
    Once the brunch was served up and my services were no longer required, I would excuse myself and retire quietly to the nearby sewing room, where I would iron blouses, or do some knitting or sewing.
    I was never permitted to turn on anything like music or a TV. I might not be able to hear Phyllis ringing the maid’s call bell which would summon me to the dining area. At long last with the get together over, I would assist the ladies with their coats and clean up after them.
    On one very lovely Saturday evening in May, about one year since I’d went to my initial appointment for Herbal Therapy, Phyllis informed me that eight days hence, I would be preparing a brunch for her and seven other guests, from her “ladies’ club.” I was excited of course, and yet a little nervous.
    But on that Sunday, at 10 AM I had everything ready as the guests arrived. There were Phyllis’s regular companions, Suzanne, Elaine, Gladys and Calista. Soon after, and separately, Doctors Anna Cable and Amanda Liu arrived. Lastly, it turned out, that the seventh guest, was Phyllis’s Gynecologist, Eva San-Moritz, who was someone I had yet to meet.
    Unusually enough, all of the women, including Phyllis were identically attired. Each wore, black high-heeled pumps, a black A-line skirt, black hose and a white, high collar, buttoned blouse. The blouses were trimmed with lace at the cuffs and down the front. They all wore their hair up in some fashion of a bun, twist or upsweep.
    Their makeup was tasteful but glamourous, without being overdone. I did my usual duties, of taking ladies’ wraps, and handbags, before serving. Then I excused myself, to tend to my sewing and ironing. The gathering was quite lively with a lot of conversation which I neither heard or digested.
    The maid’s bell summoned me, and I curtseyed as I entered the living room/dining area. Everyone was seated, symmetrically around the room. I was told to take the empty seat, which faced directly towards Phyllis who was at the top center of the semi-circle. Ms. Gladys was to her right and Calista to her left.
   In her hands, Phyllis held a file folder, similar to one which Calista might use for appraisal papers. The eyes of every female present seemed to focus on me. I carefully curtsied prior to sitting. Phyllis opened the folder and pulled a photograph from it.
    “Cecily. Tell me truthfully and don’t embarrass me in front of my Cassandra sisters and Mater Gladys. Do you recognize the young female in this photo? Here. You may hold it and scrutinize it carefully,” Phyllis offered.
    Of course, I knew immediately who the female was. And I felt as if, the chair I was sitting in, along with I and the entire room was shaking. The female in the photo was none other than Sheree, my old girlfriend. The very woman I had cheated on Phyllis with!
    “Yes Phyllis. I know her. Her name is Sheree Mortenson,” was all I could say. I was close to running from the room.
    “Very well. A truthful answer. Now, in this photo, isn’t this you, leaving O’Leary’s tavern with her, holding hands? The two of you look very cute together, by the way,” Phyllis said.
    “Yes. That is me, Phyllis,” I answered without even needing to hold the photo.
    “Now in this photo, I think I know what is going on. But, I still need to ask. You are with her, with your arm around her, about to enter a building. Is this the building where her apartment was located? You know. The apartment where the two of you would go, so you could screw her brains out? The same apartment where you cheated on me and broke every marriage vow you had taken?” Phyllis asked, calmly.
    I felt like passing out. The room was getting very warm. I was getting warm along with it. I looked directly at Phyllis as I was less frightened of her and I was absolutely terrified of her friends.
    “Yes. Everything you said is true. I’m terribly ashamed of what I did, and I know you might think it meaningless if I asked your forgiveness,” I mewled.
    “Oh, you’ll get your chance to do penance. But later. We’ll get to all that later. Not much later. Sooner than later I should say. I know you had an affair with her. I can approximate the length. Suzanne here, my wonderful Cassandra sister, was the first to know,” Phyllis actually smiled.
    “She was leaving Gladys’s salon on the way to get her car at the office and meet her husband for dinner. She saw you and Slutty Sheree leaving O’Leary’s. O’Leary’s is one block from the salon and three blocks from the office. I do realize I was always out of town on business when you were with her,” Phyllis paused.
    “But just how stupid are you? You pick up, and meet with a chick, within three blocks of the office where both you and I work? You have a lengthy affair with her and continue to use O’Leary’s as your meeting place?” Phyllis said, looking at me puzzled.
     “My father was a really wonderful man, Cecily. He could also be a very crude man when he had a few drinks and was bonding with my brother. He would refer to stupidity such as yours, with the terminology of, ‘shitting where you eat.’ I think now, I want to tell you the rest of the story,” Phyllis stated.
    “My wonderful Cassandra sister, Suzanne, doesn’t carry tales. She didn’t tell a soul including me until she had concrete proof. She hired a detective at a great cost to herself. She told him what she suspected. And she was correct. You were meeting up with the bitch whenever I left town on business,” Phyllis nearly spat.
    “She did the best she could when she gave me the evidence, to soften the blow to me. I was hurt, angry and really livid. But, somehow, I still loved you and decided to change you. Let me tell you about the society, or ladies club, as you know it, which I belong to,” Phyllis smiled.
    “Our name is The Cassandra Sisterhood. We were founded in England at the end of the 19th Century. We are now worldwide. We are ardent, radical feminists. We believe in the superiority of the female gender. We believe in the subjugation and emasculation of errant, disobedient, misbehaving males,” Phyllis laughed.
    “Have I scared you out of your wits yet, Cecily? Okay then. I decided to turn you into a sissy girl. I now intend to divorce you and remarry you, with me as the husband and with you as the wife. How does that grab you, darling? First though I needed a way to control you. That’s where doctor Liu came in,” Phyllis.
    “She has performed the identical procedures, on scores of unsuspecting males, that she performed on you. Your headaches were caused by herbs I procured from her. I could control the force of your migraines by the dosage I gave you,” Phyllis grinned.
    “Her herbal treatments in her office are what gave you such a girlish set of tits and a nice fat ass. The music she played was overdubbed with subliminal suggestion. The unconscious messages encouraged you into embracing femininity, girlish pursuits, beauty, fashion, hairdressing, and of course, adulating me. Now I have you, and you are all mine,” Phyllis clapped.
    “You know the rest. My family doctor concocted a story about your symptoms. Once you welcomed the imagery and missives as something you could embody, it was simply a matter of getting you into Elaine’s dress shop and Gladys’s beauty parlor. So here we are. Decision time,” Phyllis announced.
    “Decision time for you, for me, for my Cassandra Sisters and our esteemed Mater. First you Cecily. You may if you wish, escape my feminizing clutches. If you so desire, I’ll offer you that opportunity this very day,” Phyllis said.
    “You know that you came into this marriage with little or almost nothing. I’d guess by now you have accumulated some manner of wealth. I’ll double it for you. I’ll stop giving you the herbal tea you drink three times daily. Yes, it does help you to maintain your very luscious, growing girlish shape,” Phyllis grinned, prettily.
    “There is no problem reversing your recent legal name and legal gender change. I have lawyers to do that. You have a car of your own. In a few months your tits and wide ass will begin to go away. You may live in one of my rentals, rent free until you find an appraiser’s job. I’ll even give you a reference,” Phyllis offered.
    “That is option one. Here is option two. Of course, if you take option two you turn down option one. First, you will beg me for forgiveness, on your knees. Again, on your knees, you will agree to a divorce and to marry me as my wife. I will own you. Everything you own right now will then become mine,” she said.
    “I will be your master and your husband. You will be my wife and my chattel. After our ritualistic marriage ceremony, where you will be paddled, I will give you to the presiding Cassandra High Priestess as a sex toy, for her pleasure. And of course, today, you’ll be disciplined for your transgressions against me,” she smiled.
    “You have thirty minutes to decide, Cecily. Go into your knitting room and think it over. The decision is yours. I must say though Cecily. I dearly hope you choose me. You’ve become a lovely flower under my tutelage. I would hate to see that all go away.” Phyllis stated.
     I stood and then knelt at Phyllis’s feet. “I don’t need thirty minutes, Phyllis. I will be your bride. I will beg your forgiveness, marry you, sleep with the Priestess, and take my punishment today. And yes, I am certain of that, darling,” I said, hanging my head.
    “Very well, Cecily. As you are kneeling, kiss the toes of my high-heels. Very nice. Do you swear by the Goddess Aphrodite that you have wronged me thru infidelity? And do you beg my forgiveness and want me to punish you, in order to cleanse your spirit?” Phyllis asked.
    “Yes, madame. Before Aphrodite I beg you to punish me for my transgressions against the marriage vows I took with you. I was unfaithful, and I beg your forgiveness and want you to cleanse me,” I begged.
    “Look at me girl. See this diamond engagement ring? Hold out your left hand with fingers spread and your wrist, daintily limped. Do you agree to be my bride and chattel? Do you agree that you will belong to the Cassandra Sisterhood as much as you belong to me? Phyllis asked.
    “Yes Phyllis. As I will belong to you, I will belong to Cassandra,” I swore.
    “I place this ring on your finger. You will now always be mine. Kiss my shoes again. Stay with your head bowed Cecily,” Phyllis ordered.
    “Mater Millstone. What does our council rule as a punishment for my slut?”
    “We shall defer to your recommendation and then vote, my child,” Mater Gladys said.
    “I would prefer that this whore be bound up, so I might ravage her rectum while I am wearing a double ended dildo. She is ready. I have been training her for weeks with ever increasing sizes of butt plugs, Mater,” Phyllis interjected.
    “Sisters of the council, your Sister Phyllis has told us of her wishes. How do you vote? I vote yes!” Gladys exclaimed.
    I heard every single other voice shout, “Yes!” I was doomed. I had thought the punishment would be along the lines of a hairbrush spanking later in the evening. I never dreamed of a public buggering.
    “Then it is decided. Where shall we bind the whore for you, Sister Phyllis?” Suzanne asked.
    “Take her to the coffee bar, in the kitchenette. Truss her standing against the bar. There are arm and foot rails either side. There are scarves in this closet,” Phyllis added.
    I was no match for these ladies. I struggled but they soon had me tethered. My torso was uncomfortably bent over the coffee bar in the kitchenette. My ass stuck up so helplessly and shamelessly in the air. My ankles were tightly lashed as were my wrists. The hem of my lovely polka-dot dress was pinned up and my panties were pulled down to my ankles.
    I heard Phyllis’s voice. “Could someone please bring me a paper towel? I want to fish this butt plug out of her ass. How do I look, ladies?” Phyllis laughed.
    I could just barely see her off to my left after she had pulled my plug out. She was wearing a black, lady’s robe and high-heels. That was it. She’d set a double ended dildo and a tube of KY jelly on the kitchenette top. She’d wrapped the paper towel around my butt plug.
    Phyllis handed off the paper towel and butt plug to one of the other ladies. Then I could feel her lubricating my butt-hole with the KY jelly. I stiffened and hissed.
    “Oh, stop that baby. This is only a couple of my fingers inside you right now. Plus, this dildo I have is nothing compared to a real man’s cock. Nor is it as wide as the last butt plug I had up inside you. This dildo is more in line with that sissy clitoris you have dangling between your legs,” Phyllis chortled happily.
    “Okay. Now I have to fit this end of the dildo inside of me. There. Ooh! That feels nice. Now I just need a little dollop of jelly on the end of Mr. Dildo which I’m going to put up your ass. Allright honey. Are you ready? Don’t stiffen up like that. Relax and breathe just the way Mumsy taught her Cecily when she fitted her with butt plugs,” Phyllis teased as she coaxed the faux penis into my rectum.
    “Now, there it is. Just wait until I titillate your prostate with this. Any messy sperm accident that you have, you’ll be licking up, by the way. But that sort of accident might just be impossible to avoid, considering the way I’m going to be fucking you right now. Ready, set, go!” Phyllis exclaimed as she started to slide the dildo in and out of my asshole.
    In spite of the fact that seven ladies were viewing and possibly photographing this unbecoming spectacle, I was still as hard as a rock. I closed my eyes as Phyllis rode my buttocks with the dildo. Indeed, she did make intimate contact with my prostate, and it felt just so wonderful.
    The more aggressive she screwed me, the more voluptuous and feminine the sensations within me came to be. As my feminine perceptions increased the more deeply enamored I became towards Phyllis. With my passions heightened it was only a matter of time before my penis would finally spurt wildly.
    From Phyllis’s increasing determination, I knew she was nearing her highpoint. I guessed her to be holding the dildo steady with one hand and apparently her free hand was kneading her clitoris. Her orgasm came before mine did. However, even after she climaxed she continued to bugger me.
    I did not want to hold back anything, and I didn’t. When I erupted I let out the most girlish, effeminate scream I could have possibly unearthed. My sperm poured violently from my distended cock. I was sobbing uncontrollably as opposed to Phyllis’s joyous laughter.
    When she pulled out of me, she struck me sharply on my shapely buttocks.
    “Good girl, Cecily! Get it all out honey. Let go! Let go of everything, baby!” Phyllis exclaimed as she strode out of my peripheral line of site and seated herself on a divan with two other ladies.
    “Unbind the bitch. Make her kneel and lick up all the sperm she spurted on my beautiful tiled floor,” Phyllis added.
    Once I was released from my bondage, I was forced to my knees. With my nose pushed into the puddle of sperm that had come from my penis, I began to lick up every single droplet. Suzanne Blackburn stood over me, watching carefully.
    I looked to see if any discharge was anywhere on the side of the coffee bar. I then whimpered, “I think I’ve licked up everything, Ms. Blackburn?”
    “Yes. She’s licked up all that I could see. Can she stand up, now Phyllis?” Suzanne asked.
    “Yes, Suzanne. Bring her to Mater Gladys, for the incantation,” Phyllis added.
    Suzanne pulled my panties up and unpinned my lovely, Navy Blue on white, polka-dot, 1950’s housewife dress, and smoothed it. I must have been a sight. I knew my mascara had to be running and that my lipstick must be horribly smudged. I now stood facing Mater Gladys Millstone. She held me at arm’s length.
    “Have you learned your lesson as to defying the Cassandra Sisterhood or any of it’s members, girl?” Mater asked.
    “Oh yes, Mater Gladys. Never again. Never again will I transgress against Cassandra,” I continued to sob.
    “Very well. Kneel. I will give you my sanctification,” she said, placing her hands upon the top of my head.
     “Goddess Aphrodite, we thank you for purging and cleansing this whore of her wickedness. We ask you to keep her from her former immoral ways and lead her to a path of obedience, servility, and subjugation to her future husband, Phyllis. Hail Aphrodite! Hail Cassandra! Hail the Sisterhood!” Gladys exclaimed as all the Sisters present stood and chanted along with her.
    Gladys turned me towards Phyllis and added, “Your slattern has been purified. She is all yours, my dear Cassandra daughter,” smiled Gladys.
     Phyllis took me to her boudoir. We both stripped and entered her large, sit down shower. We scrubbed each other with scented body wash and loofahs. We shampooed each other’s hair. We carefully washed one another’s genitals. Lastly, we embraced and kissed, longingly.
    I asked Phyllis what I should wear when we went back to the gathering.
    “Just dress for bed. You can nap with me. My Sisters will care for the cleaning and organizing of the house. I want you here in bed with me, my lover,” Phyllis smiled.
    I minced to my room to find the sexiest negligee I could find.

Chapter V: Once a Slut

    I simply adore attending the country club which my husband Phyllis and I belong to. I don’t care if it is for a casual meal, a dinner and dance, a private party on our new yacht, or simply to watch Phyllis play tennis.
    Phyllis is quite good at tennis. Of all the female members at the club, she is likely the very best. She wins all the ladies’ tourneys. She is competitive against most of the men. The best male players always want to draw her for mixed doubles.
    I’m just crazy about sitting in the observation area watching her compete. Even, if all she is doing is taking a lesson from Diego, her Castilian Spaniard instructor. Diego is marvelous specimen of manhood. In any illustrated dictionary, Diego’s picture would be next to the words, “Stud” and “Hunk”.
    The female members of our club, from the corn silk haired, nineteen-year-old debutantes, to the silver-haired matronly dowagers, all swoon at the sight of Diego. They get glassy-eyed if he even stops to talk with them. He has bedded a healthy number of these ladies. Both married and not married.
    The two conquests he had yet to reap, were of course, Phyllis and me. Around the club, it’s taken for granted we are a couple of Lesbians. Outside of Phyllis’s Cassandra Sisters, no members of the club know anything about my boy-parts. Everyone believes we are a happily married, same-sex couple.
    The very first Saturday of this past summer, was such a lovely day at the club. Phyllis had a lesson with Diego. Then they played a match. As usual, Phyllis insisted Diego not hold anything back when playing her. I was sitting at the top of the observation platform.
    This soft, summer breeze blew thru my straight, blunt-cut, shoulder-length, platinum blonde, pageboy. I had worn my dark sunglasses, to add to that air of mysteriousness about me. I’m the sweet, “twenty-something” demoiselle and plaything, married to the wealthy, “thirty something” lesbian property broker.
    I had on a soft, summery, white dress and a pair of two-inch, wedge-heeled, sandals. The edges of my perfectly trimmed pageboy tickled the sides of my face, as did my chandelier earrings. Oh, how I adore those continuous reminders that I live my life in a very feminine way.
    I wear wedge-heels to the tennis courts, by the way, because it can be difficult walking in stiletto heels on grassy surfaces. Both Phyllis and Diego were playing so very hard. I loved it. To see both of their beautiful tanned bodies sweating is quite an erotic sight. The match ended with Diego finally driving a shot just out of Phyllis’s reach.
    I skipped down to the courts and waited just outside the playing area. Phyllis and Diego were laughing.
    “Diego, you are such an animal. You’re the only man here, at the club, whom I haven’t defeated at least once,” she smiled.
    “Trust me my angel. For me to defeat you, I expend every grain of strength and energy within me,” Diego answered.
    Gracious me. He isn’t just good looking. He’s also preciously gallant.
    I reached up and hugged Phyllis while kissing her gently. “Oh, my love. You played so very hard. I almost want to cry when you lose, darling,” I simpered girlishly.
    “Oh, Cecily. My precious angel. That is so sweet of you. One moment Diego. I’ll be right with you. I need a brief, private moment with my adoring wife,” Phyllis said, as she took me off to the side, very near the pro-club.
    “I’d like to ask the very handsome Diego to dinner on our new yacht tonight. We’ll just have steaks and veggies on the grill. With wine, of course. Nothing fancy. I think it would be fun. Okay?” Phyllis asked.
    I shrugged, smiled and nodded a yes. I wasn’t certain she was up to anything. But whenever she is, I’m always game. I don’t have much of a say in these such matters anyway, to tell the real truth.
    “Diego. We’d love for you to dine on our new yacht with us. It’s tied up here at the Marina. We sometimes live aboard it on the weekends,” Phyllis adds.
    “I would love to. What time should I be there, and what is the dress code?” Diego asks.
    “Seven P.M. and casual boating dress,” Phyllis smiles.
    As we walked away, I looked over at Phyllis with a questioning glance. The “very handsome” Diego, I was thinking?
    “Do you surmise I’m up to something, Cecily? Well, you’re correct, if you do. Cecily, have you any idea how long it has been, since I’ve had a very large, very manly boner, shoved between my thighs? And please Cecily. Don’t take it to mean that your sissy clitoris is in any way inadequate. It’s actually very much, perfectly sized for me,” smiled Phyllis.
    “Yes, Phyllis, my love. I can recall the last time you had lustful sex with a manly male with a very large penis. That was upon the eve of our wedding day. You broke with precedent and offered me to the Presiding High Priestess from England, Lady Lillian, prior to the wedding,” I answered.
   “Lady Lillian then offered you the use of her handsome young, gigolo, Ian. He’d accompanied her from London to San Francisco. While I was being buggered by Her Ladyship, in my boudoir, you were being pleasured by Ian in your bed,” I offered.
     “Oh yes, Cecily! He was quite fabulous, you know? A monster of a phallus. I don’t believe I’ve ever screamed so loudly while being screwed. Never in my life! And then you, my lovely bride, were so nice as to suck his sperm from my cunt, when you ate my pussy, later that evening,” laughed Phyllis, congenially.
    “While you prepared breakfast, the morning after our wedding, Lady Lillian confided with me about Ian. She said she’d never take such a long journey as she did, to officiate our wedding, without Ian at her side. Or in her pussy, as it were. I shan’t say I can blame her either. What an absolute animal he was!” Phyllis exclaimed.
    “Yes, I know, my love, Phyllis. We took them to the airport before we left for our Aruban honeymoon. Ian slept in late that morning. Later, before their flight, you had me bring him breakfast in bed. Then you and Lady Lillian entered the boudoir and had me suck Ian’s cock and swallow his ejaculate, while he drank his orange juice,” I recalled.
    “Yes. I’d forgotten about that. My poor baby! You had that massive penis in your mouth? So, then, you know how large he is. And you’d already sampled his semen when you ate my pussy, so you knew what he would taste like,” Phyllis concurred.
    But, how can you be absolutely certain, that Diego has a ‘large’ manly boner in his tennis shorts?” I asked
    “Oh dear, Cecily. I’d forgotten, darling. You have never been privy to the Ladies’ sauna and showers here at the club, have you, princess? We can’t allow the secret of your boyish treasures to be discovered, can we now? Well I have been in both the ladies’ sauna and the showers,” Phyllis expounded.
    “The talk is, especially in the ladies’ sauna, that Diego is hung like a Claiborne Farm, breeding stallion. No female that has had the pleasure of his talents has ever disputed that. Plus, I understand he is quite talented in the use of his substantial organ,” Phyllis added.
    “Well in that case, my wonderful husband, who gives me everything I ask of you, we should have him to dinner, and see what transpires,” I cooed, submissively.
    “Excellent my pet. Now then, I need something else from you, Cecily. Would you mind terribly if I wanted you to ‘fluff him up’ for me? You know. Suck his cock and make him ready?” Phyllis asked.
    “No, I wouldn’t mind, though you know I am no expert,” I added.
    “But, you have sucked a penis before. You cannot deny that. I’m certain you’ll do just fine. Now, should he desire someone’s anus, we may have a slight problem. But, I’ve recently purchased for you, those snug, secure panty briefs with cute openings in the rear. Those will be ideal for just such emergencies,” Phyllis smiled.
    “The rear entryways are just the correct size for a large penis. And your delicate sissy-clitoris will remain safely tucked and hidden away. We don’t know that he’s actually an ass-man, anyway, though. But if he is my pet, it’s your plump ass he is de-flowering, not mine,” Phyllis asserted.
   We made our way to the marina, boarded our new yacht and commenced to make things ready for our dinner date with the very manly Diego. Phyllis showered and laid down for a nap. I chopped vegetables and thawed some steaks. Then I set up and prepped the grill.
    I also showered and took a nap of my own. Upon awakening, Phyllis and I dressed, and I did her hair and my own. I fixed hers into a dramatic upsweep. I curled mine. I had wanted to curl her hair, but she declined.
    “You know how sexy I look in an upsweep, darling. Curled, rolled up tresses are for sissies,” she teased.
    “Yes, but in that coiled upsweep and in tall heels you become so intimidating,” I answered.
    “Goodness, Cecily, you are so silly. Of course, I look intimidating. But only to you, my dear little sissy. I appear foreboding to you because you are a sissy. Diego is a man’s-man. He’ll hardly be unsettled by a tall female in heels and a fancy updo,” Phyllis laughed.
    Diego, ever the gentleman, arrived a few minutes early, with an excellent bottle of vintage, Napa Valley, Artemis Cabernet Sauvignon. I greeted him wearing a chintz, pastel, floral print, broderie dress, and white, ankle-strap sandal high-heels.
    I gave him a slutty wink and held his hand as I showed him to the after-deck. From there, Phyllis took over. She charmed Diego as I served up the steaks, veggies and wine. Just about the time the sun began to set, I had the grill turned off and the table cleared away with the exception of the drinks.
   A slight cooling breeze came in off the bay as we watched the sunset. Then Phyllis said, “Before it gets too terribly cool, why don’t we move inside to the great room? Cecily, please open some Chablis, darling?”
    I minced off as Phyllis and Diego moved to the great room. By the time I’d popped the cork on the bottle of Chablis and found my way to them, Phyllis held Diego in an embrace and was taking the lead in a steamy French kiss. They were on the new couch we’d just had installed.
    “Well, you two couldn’t wait for me, could you? Could I join in and make this a threesome?” I asked.
    Diego was very surprised by Phyllis’s aggressiveness. He was even more staggered, when I unzipped and unbuckled him. I lowered his shorts and underwear and placed my hands upon his penis. When I did take his penis into my mouth, he gasped.
    “Oh, this is so fantastic my ladies. I did not expect this. This is so unbelievable and so very good, my angels! Diego exclaimed.
    By now Phyllis had Diego’s shirt off. I had tossed his shorts and underwear somewhere behind the couch. He was seated on the couch, with Phyllis kissing his chest and me sucking his dick.
    “Honey, I want to take my top and shorts off. You continue to give Diego a nice blow job, baby. Once I get my panties off, I want to slip that gorgeous cock of his inside my pussy,” Phyllis added.
    Once Phyllis had stripped to her brassiere and high-heels, I had Diego stand up, so she could position herself comfortably on the couch. She was now laying down ready to receive his penis in her pussy. When she clapped her hands, I knew she was ready.
    “Cecily darling. Give Diego to me dearest. I want you inside of me, Diego, you stud. Come to me please?” Phyllis said, invitingly. Diego didn’t hesitate. I had his cock as hard as a rock and he was all but ready to screw Phyllis. He mounted her, and he slowly entered her.
    Once they got into a rhythm, I made my way into the kitchen to load the dishwasher. Once I started it, I had a glass of wine and lit up a nice bowl of Afghanistan Hashish. I thought about what it would be like to have that massive penis belonging to that Spaniard in my rectum.
   I took one more sip of wine and another pull on the Hash pipe. Now, I was convinced, I just had to know what having a man inside of my asshole would be like. Maybe I’d discover the answer tonight? Maybe another time? I kind of knew it would be Diego. I also knew, eventually, that my Phyllis would make it happen.

The End