Updated! The Bellefaire Bride

By Priscilla Gay Bouffant

Jordan, a Philandering Spouse is found out! He is sent to the Bellefaire Institute to be Retrained and Rehabilitated to be turned into Priscilla a "Feminized Maiden." 

We will start the bidding at.... 

Chapter I: An Academy Girl

     Dinner with my “Witch" of a Mother-in-Law was never my favorite pastime. However this time the outcome was far worse that I could have ever imagined. Something must have been put into my Scotch-on-the-Rocks? I still have the very vague recollections of being dragged across the floor and the female voices, two of which were my wife and step-mother. 

    When I did come-to, I was seated and bound, in a tall-backed chair, with a penis-gag shoved into my mouth. My hair had a “Slick,” “Sleek” and “Wet” look to it. It was “Twirled” into a Ballerina Styled Top-Knot. I was wearing a training brassiere which attested to the fact that I had “zero” cleavage. I had a very snug waist-cinch around my torso and I wore panties that made very little secret that I had a penis.

    Three-inch sandal style heels were upon my feet and showed my painted toes. My fingernails were lengthy, manicured and bright-red. Even my lips, which surrounded the penis gag, were coated with cosmetics, along with the rest of my face. When my mother-in-law Clarissa Paige, unfastened the bindings holding me to the chair, I realized my ankles were shackled together and my hands were fastened at my wrists behind my back. 

    Another rope was cinched around my arms, at about the level of my elbows. As I took a good look at the ridiculous sight I made in a full-length mirror, I realized my body was completely smooth and hairless. From my “scent” I was completely aware that I’d been doused in a fragrantly, sensuous perfume. I squealed thru the penis gag, only to make gurgling grunts. 

    My mother-in-law Clarissa pulled me to a standing position. Then she took me by one elbow and spun me around. I was still partially under the effects of whatever drug or drugs I’d been given. Clarissa propelled me into the living room, where to my surprise my Step-mother, Jillian Meadows was present, along with another female I didn’t recognize. Of course Monet, my wife was there. 

    “Isn’t she lovely? My daughter would not believe me, that you had multiple Mistresses, Jordan. So I hired a private detective. Meet Patricia Holmes, Jordan. A week ago she showed Monet enough photographs and videos of you and your whores, to convince her that you were an absolute Cur. Your Step-mother, Jillian arranged for you to have some rehabilitation-styled training at as school just outside of Bellefaire township,” Clarissa explained. 

    “Jordan is a pig, just like his father. Now I’ll be rid of both of them. His father left with his filthy slut of an Admin, and left this piece of garbage in my care. You couldn’t even keep a job when your father employed you. Even then, you tried to be such a playboy,” Jillian spat.

    “I trusted you and I turned from my mother and nearly called her a liar. How could you shame me like this, Jordan? You even had affairs with girls in mother’s office,” Monet said as she slapped my face and left the room. 

    The private detective departed shortly after Monet went sobbing off. I stood, truly frightened, trying to beg forgiveness thru the penis gag, but to no avail. There was a knock on the door and a ringing of the doorbell which startled me. 

    “That should be the Van from the Bellefaire Institute, Clarissa. Please do come in ladies. We have Miss Prissy all neatly wrapped up for you,” My step-mother Jillian laughed.

    “Yes you do ma’am. You call her Prissy?” One of the three ladies that entered the house asked.

    “Yes. It’s short for Priscilla Renee Meadows, which is the Nomme Du Femme we chose for her, as you requested,” Jillian replied.  

    “Well that’s perfect. Now. Once again, as discussed. The Bellefaire Institute will pay you ladies a 15% Finders Fee, from the profits from her sale at the Spring Auction next April. Of course the profits will consist of all monies paid by the highest bidder, minus costs for her  upkeep, wardrobe, beautification, alterations, and on-line advertising,” the Lady-in-Charge stated. 

    As foolish as it does sound, I turned towards the open door and attempted to “Mince and Jiggle” my way out of the house. Another of the three ladies stuck her foot out and tripped me. I fell towards the floor only the be grabbed by the third lady. 

    “It never fails. Do they all think they can really run away, hobbled by ankle shackles and in three-inch heels? It’s crazy. Give the silly little bitch an injection of the muscle relaxer, Tabitha. There. Get the stretcher. Thank you ladies,” the Lady-in-Charge added.

    In the van, a large pill and a big glass of water were forced down my throat as I spluttered. I cursed and whimpered until a ball-gag was stuffed into my mouth and fastened securely behind my head. 

    I came back to reality, sort of, on an examination table as a lady, dressed like a doctor, poked and probed me. I immediately began to attempt to converse thru the ball-gag, squealing and spitting.

    “I think this one needs to be diapered, strapped to her bed, and fed baby food, laxatives and plenty of water. She isn’t going to break easily. Did you here that Priscilla? You are going to be our Baby-Girl for a few weeks. Maybe longer if you continue to misbehave,” the doctor promised.

    “Put her in one of the sound-proof Girly Boudoirs in C Wing. That way you can remove her gag and let her screech, squeal and scream all that she may desire, without her disturbing any of the other Trainees. I want the curtains and shades drawn so that she looses all perception of the time of day, or what day it might be,” the doctor added as I was transferred to a gurney for transport.

    “See to it that she takes her pretty pills and is injected with plenty of estrogen. Sponge bathe her and allow her a bubble bath every three days. Until the Counselor I assign to her says so, she isn’t going to be allowed out of bed unless she is taking her bubble bath. Goodnight Priscilla. Or is it Good Morning? Hard to discern, isn’t it sweetie?” The doctor chuckled as I was wheeled off by the “Medical” team.

    I don’t truly recall how long I was confined to my “Baby Boudoir” in “C” wing? My diet consisted of stewed, strained, pureed baby food, which was primarily prunes. Estrogen tablets, mood altering meds, as well as laxatives were forced down my throat for a time. But as I became more compliant, I’d simply open my mouth as tears streamed down my cheeks as I took my “Baby” medicine. 

    I was made to drink copious amounts of water to “Hydrate” me. I knew better. The huge water consumption was designed to make me “Pee” in my diaper and plastic pants. I recall that very 1st evening when I began to beg to use the “Potty,” which is what they made me refer to the toilet as. 

    I was ignored by the “Nurse” as she said, “Sleep tight Priscilla Renee. I’ll change your diapers after you Poop-Poop and Pee-Pee.” 

    I clearly recall the surge of shame that overcame me, as the initial flood of urine filled my flowered, disposable diaper, along with, the pink, plastic panties that I wore. I even slept upon crinkly, plastic sheets. However, I thought nothing could possibly compare to the degradation and humiliation which I experienced, as my bowels released a load of smelly, watery feces to mix with the already, stagnant urine.

    It was the horrible mortification, and the mixture of Female Hormones, along with the muscle relaxants and “Mood” elevators, that at last, brought me to the point of “Begging’ to see my “Counselor,” in order to be allowed to at least be able to “Do Potty” and “Pee-Pee” with proper supervision. 

    That day I was allowed to take a bubble bath and shampoo my own hair. Prior to entering the bath, my assigned “Attendant” tapped me on the hip with her “Baton.” She sent an electric shock thru my body that knocked me sobbing, to the floor.

    “I just wanted to demonstrate what will occur if you attempt anything in the way of recalcitrance while in my care or with your counselor. This facility is walled, as well as located in a remote, wooded, secluded area. There is no escape Priscilla. Your best hope is to attract a wealthy male or female, with your eventual online photos and profile, and hope they spend enough on you at an auction so that you may depart from here,” my attendant added.

    Once I had bathed and put on a pair of ruffled sissy panties, my body was inspected for even the smallest growth of hair. Thru the use of the hormones, moisturizers and depilatories, my skin was smooth, silky-soft and essentially hair-free. The growth of Modest, Nippled, “Orbs” were noted at my bosom and I was “Allowed” the use of an “A” cup brassiere. 

    I was put into a ridiculously feminine, Little Girl Style, “Princess” pink, Tulle party dress with Mary Jane shoes, bearing a slight heel, along with pink anklet socks. The dress had built-in organza Petticoats. The innermost “Petti” titillated my silken-soft legs. 

    Then, one of the numerous, Bellefaire Beauticians, Ms. Constance, entered my room. Her assistant, Matilda, carried a portable hair dryer. My still damp, freshly shampooed hair was saturated with Perfumed Setting Lotion. 

    Then, Ms. Constance began to trim and shape my longish locks and give me a set of bangs. I wanted to curse myself for spurning modern tradition and growing my hair long. What I did not realize was that Sissies with shorter hair were either given stylish wigs, or a femininely  classic, “Pixie” cut. 

    Once my hair was trimmed and combed out straight, Ms. Constance began to wrap my tresses upon what I would later learn were Permanent Wave Rods. After the wave rods were checked for tightness, the hairdresser’s assistant, Matilda, who I now realized was a Sissy, placed the hair-dryer bonnet over my curlered hair, and turned  on the hairdryer.

    The stylist then informed me, “I’ll be Double-piercing your ears at this time, Priscilla. Don’t make a fuss. You’ll only find yourself being properly caned and returned to your babyish diapers.”

    The stylist pierced my ear lobes twice each. Then, prior to Ms. Constance beginning my manicure, she gave me instructions concerning the care of my newly pierced ears. As she manicured my fingernails, she lengthened them by adding short extensions. 

    As soon as my hair was dry, the stylist added pink nail polish and a sealer coat, to my lengthened fingernails. The polish would match the eyeshadow and blusher she would apply, as well as my Pink-frost lipstick. Then the hairdresser began to remove the perm rods from my hair and began to stylize my tresses. I soon had a head full of curlicue ringlets and spirally curls, which she doused heavily with Spray-Net, Lacquer.

    “Stand up Miss Prissy Sissy Missy. It’s time to teach you the rudimentary skills of curtseying. Mince over there, to the center of the room. There. That’s a good girl. Now turn and face me. You girl. Stand next to me, you effeminate little Twink,” Ms. Constance said to Matilda.

    It was when I turned to face the Hairdresser, that, all at once, I observed the full, outrageous stage of effeminacy that I’d most recently attained, when I could finally see myself in the full length mirror, just behind Ms. Constance. 

    My face was alarmingly feminine and painted very girlishly with a vivid masque of “Beauty Pageant” appropriate makeup. My hair was perfectly curled to match the makeup, along with the darling Princess Style party dress I was wearing. With the restrictive diet I’d been subjected to, I was now, convincingly, and effeminately slimmed. 

    I projected a questioning look of uncertainty with my eyes, the brows of which, were arched perfectly, to give me that “Little girl” gaze of wonderment. I faced the hairdresser, and I would leave Ms. Constance with very little doubt, that I now considered her my superior. 

    “Now closely watch my Little Twinkie assistant, Priscilla, and do just as she does. Hold the edges of the hem, of your pretty, flouncy dress. That’s a good girl. Now, Miss Girly Priscilla. Slide your right foot back, ever so slightly. Stand on that toe, bend both your knees and dip, just as my Prissy little assistant is doing. And at the very same time, bow your head submissively and look down at the carpet,” Ms. Constance instructed.

    She had us do that same exercise, easily a dozen times, prior to declaring me “Good enough,” to meet the “Curriculum” counselor. I followed the Beautician and her assistant down the hall with the “Stun-Gun” armed attendant behind me. When we stopped, the lady who had prettified me led me to an office door and knocked. 

    The door was answered by a young lady named Celeste, who curtsied. 

    “I’m here to drop off Miss Priscilla Renee Meadow’s to see the Chief Psychiatric Counselor, Doctor Blaine,” Ms. Constance said. 

    “Yes ma’am. Doctor Blaine is in. Come along Priscilla. Yes ma’am, you also,” Celeste said to my Attendant, as Celeste curtsied.

    I now realized that Celeste was also a subjugated Sissy. Both Ms. Constance and Matilda said their goodbyes as they returned to the school salon.

    “Celeste? Is that the new girl?” Doctor Blaine asked. Doctor Blaine, was “Fifty-Something,” wore glasses and had that bookish, “Smart Girl” look that many female physician’s have.

    “Come with me Priscilla. Guard, you may stay in the outer office for my so-called protection. Though, I’ve never had one of these mincing, prancing, preening, Sissies to dare even to disagree with me,” Doctor Blaine laughed. 

    “You may sit Priscilla,” Doctor Blaine motioned.

    “Thank you ma’am,” I said as I curtsied.

    “Now let me look over your paperwork. Priscilla Renee Meadows, twenty-two years of age. Signed over to the Bellefaire Institute by your step-mother, soon-to-be Ex-wife and her mother. Hmm. The usual, pitiful philanderer, who wasn’t even clever enough to keep ‘that much’ a secret,” Doctor Blaine scoffed. 

    “You are classed as a Hetero-Virgin? Well, that will change as soon as we auction you off, I would dare presume? Which also means it will save us the trouble of Castrating you if you attempt to escape. If a wealthy man is bidding on a Hetero-Virgin he usually wants her testes to be intact, as well as her tits to only be hormonally induced,” the Doctor informed me. 

    “You see Priscilla. If one of the usual, extremely wealthy and powerful male bidders purchases you in order to strip away your maleness, and fully emasculate you, he wants to be the one that decides to have you Gelded. He also wants to be the individual that pays to have your Bosom enlarged to a set of DD sized tits,” Doctor Blaine smiled, heinously. 

    “Our only recourse, in order to discipline you, should you require it, would be to have you caned or properly whipped by one of our professional Discipline Mistresses. And those ladies truly enjoy the screeches and screams of their helpless, terrified victims. It could be a very long day and a very dark night for you, Priscilla,” the Doctor paused.

    “Some of those ladies will even stop to masturbate, prior to continuing your castigation. So be forewarned, Priscilla. Today, should I decide to promote you from Trainee, to Novitiate, the only way to go if you Fuck-up, is down. Way down. But we never permanently damage our most valuable properties,” Doctor Blaine added.

    “A Hetero-Virgin brings top dollar at any of our auctions. So we attempt not to leave any scars or permanent markings when we punish anyone such as you, Priscilla. You look very pretty. You seem to be sufficiently frightened and cowed as I speak to you. So I intend to promote you from Trainee to Novitiate,” the Doctor stated.  

    “Of course, you will still not as yet be permitted into the General Population of the Bellefaire Academy. Only the next two levels of student are privy to that status. You must have reached the distinction of either ‘Ingenue’ or lastly, ‘Maiden’ to be permitted access to the main portions of the Bellefaire Institute’s campus,” Doctor Blaine explained. 

    “Celeste? Come in here please? Take this paperwork, and give it to Priscilla’s escorting attendant. She is to give it to Virginia Marvel, who will assign Priscilla to the Novitiate Wings of the Institute,” Doctor Blaine ordered.

    “You are dismissed Priscilla,” The Doctor said blankly. 

    “Thank you so very much Doctor Blaine,” I blubbered as I curtsied. 

    “Priscilla? Don’t get any ideas whenever you are given access to the remainder of the campus. If you do, be prepared to pay a price you may regret, if you dare to actually do something very stupid,” the Doctor warned.

    My routine as a Novitiate at the Bellefaire Institute was far contrasting from the “Diaper-Wetting” regimen I was subjected to initially. I was still attired childishly, as a prim, demure, prissy, immature teen might be. However my classmates’ apparel was not any different. Class sizes were small, from 4 to 6 students. 

    We were instructed in Hairdressing, Cosmetic applications, Nail, Skin and Facial Care, as well as Fashion. Additional courses were given in High-Heel walking, Skirt management, Vocal Modulation, Feminine mannerisms, and Delicate Speaking. These studies were all given under the overall Title of the “Feminine Arts.” 

    Cooking, cleaning, housekeeping and household management were taught under the auspices of the “Domestic Sciences.” It was during the second half of my term as a Novitiate, that things became more challenging. During that session of the Novitiate term, we were to dress, coif and apply our cosmetics more in line with our actual chronological age group. 

    As I had been 22 when I had been enrolled at the Bellefaire Institute, the clothing now present, in my in my new, Novitiate Room, was in line with that of a fastidious, stylish, fashionable and sexy female in her late teens or early twenties. My room was quite nice with a Queen Bed, closet space, dressers, a vanity, a hair dryer and a full bath. 

    As I was classed as a “Straight-Virgin” I had no roommate, as even among a group of Sissies, all wearing Chastity Devices, there was still that rare chance that my rectum might be penetrated by a strap-on penis. My Chastity Apparatus fit over my penis with a flexible rubber tube, and then around my ball-sac with a fiberglass cage, The two items finally fastened together with a keyed lock.

    The key was kept by my Wardrobe Mistress, Madame Kendall. During the second half of our Novitiate term, our on-line “Profiles,” which would be privy to anyone that was a “Client” of Bellefaire,  would begin being put together, for the Clients’ viewing. 

    We’d have a series of photos and videos taken in addition to a “Prepared and Rehearsed” Introductory Visual and Audio recording, which would introduce us to prospective “Buyers” who would eventually bid on any of us, at one of the school's auctions. 

    Prior to our profiles being completed, we’d spend an extensive morning and possibly a lengthy afternoon at the School Salon and Spa, being beautified, as well as going thru several attire changes with our personal Wardrobe Mistress. Then, this would be followed by a photo and video session along with our carefully rehearsed “Getting to Know Me” presentation.

    To prepare us and put us into a acquiescent mind-set, all “Bellefaire Girls” were required to attend classes in “Sissy Sexuality.” These courses would assuredly test both our emotional and sensual,  psychological make-ups. 

    I do recall the initial sexuality class I attended with five other students at Bellefaire. The class was taught by Doctor Cynthia Carlson, a Psychiatrist specializing in Bisexual Studies.

   "You may be seated girls. We have quite a bit to cover over the next several days. Okay. Of the six of you young ladies, how many identify with Straight or Hetero, as far as your sex at birth is concerned? Okay, three? Not bad?” Doctor Carlson commented. 

    “Of the remainder, how many consider themselves as Bi-Sexual? Two more? And you honey? The pretty redhead? Yes you baby, you’re the only girl remaining. Do you think of yourself as Homosexual? Yes? I thought so,” Doctor Cynthia nodded.

    “Now. The initial mistake that you girls just might be making, is that you are still looking at yourselves as Boys? Because you are no longer boys. Not here at Bellefaire, or anywhere else for that matter,” the doctor stated.

    “The fact is, none of you ever measured up to being anything close to normal boys. And whether or not you like the idea, you were all complete failures at being any sort of male person. That is why it has been relatively simple for us to turn you into cute, pretty little Femmes, here at Bellefaire,” The doctor stated.

    “What In am saying is this. To be successful here, every last one of you must begin to believe that you are girls. And that you are Bisexual Females at that. Because from here on, sexually, you will be fully trained, to serve as sex-objects for the men and women you will ultimately belong to,” Doctor Carlson emphasized. 

    “It is true that a very small percentage of our graduates do return to the Patrons that enrolled them here. However that number is minuscule compared to the rate of our Alumnae that are actually sold at Auction to our very Elite Clientele, who have especially discriminating tastes and the financial resources to fulfill their prurient cravings,” Doctor Cynthia smiled.

    “So let us begin there, shall we Ladies? I am challenging each and every one of you, to begin realizing, that every thing you do at Bellefaire, from now on, is preparing you to please that very special someone, who will eventually take you away from here, to cohabit with them. He could be a male, she could be a female, or they just might be a Couple who are in a partnership or union?” Doctor Carlson said as she strode in front of the class.

    “Though, for you Virgin-Heteros, at least 95% of you are sold to very wealthy men, who thrive on stripping away every possible vestige of your ill-imagined maleness,” the doctor seemed to promise. 

     I know, for myself, I was squirming in my seat, totally unprepared for this actual eventuality. It was always considered very rude and a punishable offense to take our eyes off of any instructor in front of our classes. 

    So I glanced ever so slightly at one or two of my classmates and I know I saw that “Look" of grave concern in their eyes, at the reality that Doctor Carlson was describing so vividly for us. Then I heard one of my classmates begin to sob. Doctor Carlson paused. I knew absolutely, that she wanted all of us to focus upon the sound of that  Sissy that was beginning to cry.

    “I want any of you girls that are emotionally distraught, to feel free to vent those emotions just as Patricia is at this very instant. Crying is healthy and cleansing for your Spirit ladies. It will bring out the true Femme in every one of you,” Doctor Carlson added. 

    I could no longer hold back my emotions. I’d fully lost control of who I wished to be, and in that moment, I crossed over that “Chasm” to what the Mistresses of Bellefaire intended for me to become. I began with a simpering whimper, that grew into a blubbering flood of tears in a very brief instant of time.

    Doctor Carlson closed the classroom door and in the solitude, more tears were shed. I still do not know if all six of us cried like little girls, however I have to believe that the three of us who had identified as “Hetero” were all a blubbering mess. As the simpering quieted, Doctor Carlson spoke up.

    “I believe this would be an excellent time to dismiss our first class, a little early, on one condition. I want the entire group to return to their rooms and take a good look within your inner beings. Sit at your vanities, and look at yourself and decide who you really are,” the doctor paused. 

    “Fix your hair differently. Redo your makeup. Maybe even paint your nails. Try and imagine the type of man or woman, or even members of both sexes, that you’d prefer to be with in your future. Decide who you are and what is best for you when you depart from Bellefaire. I think you’ll be very surprised with what you come up with?” Doctor Carlson added.

    “All right girls. Class is dismissed. And the next time we meet, let’s discuss what you discover during your intimate Soul-Searching session,” Doctor Cynthia said.  

Chapter II: Immersed as an Ingenue 

    I’d just been given a delightful full-bodied Swedish massage. My body felt as if it had been turned into gelatin, as I was so very relaxed  and reposed. That delightful moment was far different from the discomfort of the full body-wax, including my Bikini area and eyebrows, that  I’d experienced earlier in the morning. 

    The evening prior I’d been instructed to take a bubble bath with salts as well as oils added. Then I was to fully moisturize. After my massage I was dressed in a robe, and treated to a mani/pedi with full-length nail extenders. Once I was fully and fashionably attired, I was led to an area where five other “Ingenues” were seated. The Head, Wardrobe Mistress addressed us. 

    “This little Beauty Treat, prior to your photo session and Audio/Video taping, is to introduce you girls to what life can be like when you are someone’s pampered Plaything and Trophy Girl. As soon as I have the six of you assembled here, I will assign you a shampoo girl and Cosmetician and we will get started on your pre-photo and audio video beautification,” the Mistress stated. 

    I was as ready for the “Rehearsed” Audio/Video of my “Online Profile” as I was ever going to be. I’d even surprised myself that I could honestly portray myself as desiring marriage as well as displaying a yearning to please a male sexually, as much as I hoped a female would purchase me. However I’d left myself little choice.

    My “Epiphany” had occurred only recently. Nearing the end of my “Novitiate” term, the Bellefaire Institute had changed their Academy Policy and decided that a Girl’s Photo-Shoot, and Online Profile should not be completed until after she’d entered the “Ingenue” portion of her training. A few weeks into my Ingenue term, I was strolling the grounds of the campus, enjoying the new freedoms I now enjoyed.

    I’d been stretching the limits of my strolls and mentally gazing beyond the walled boundaries of the campus. I’d reached a wooded area near the west wall and was enjoying a Sunset when a sultry female voice behind me spoke to me.

    “It’s quite lovely, isn’t it my Sissy Sister, Priscilla?” The Voice spoke.

    I recognized the voice as belonging to Patricia, the girl that was the first to shed tears that first day in Ms. Carlson’s Sissy Sexuality class. By this time, I knew some of the backstory of each of the other 5 Sissies I’d been in classes with since the start of my Novitiate term. In  Patricia’s case, her mother and older sister had tired of her being a skirt chaser, a drug user and a gambler.

    They had both initially agreed to have her trained as her Mother’s  Ladies’ maid, until the Older Sister had convinced the mother that they should be rid of her and sell her off in Marriage to a complete stranger through the Bellefaire Institute. 

    “Yes. It is very lovely, Sister Patricia,” I agreed.

    “I’ve began to stroll to the edges of the campus myself since I’ve become an Ingenue. The terrible uncertainty of what is ahead of me after this term, and my final term as a Maiden, certainly troubles me as much as that eventuality must trouble you, dear Priscilla. Marriage to a stranger, sex with a male, possibly raising adopted children as a mother? It can be overwhelming, can’t it?” Patricia asked. 

    “However as unusual as all that sounds, my life will still take place in the lap of luxury. I’ll likely be treated as a Princess. I’ll still wear the finest of attire, though it will be the attire of a woman. I’ve thought about what you have dreamed of and it isn’t worth attempting. We’d be doomed to failure and severe punishment,” Patricia attested. 

    “Conversely, when the Auction finally takes place, we’ll be done with these insurmountable walls, and we’ll begin a luxurious life as a spoiled Trophy Princesses,” Patricia insisted. 

    “Think things over from that perspective prior to doing anything rash, Priscilla. Then, if you continue to believe an attempt to escape is the best avenue to pursue, I give my best wishes to you for success,” Patricia said, kissing me upon my cheek.

    It took a few evenings in bed, tossing and turning with a head full of curlers, to decide to succumb to the beautifying rigors of enforced femininity as my 5 other Sisters had appeared to chose. Only though, until such a time, when I could no longer tolerate my thorough emasculation taking place.

    When all six of us had been assembled in the waiting area I heard my name being called by the Wardrobe Mistress. 

    “Priscilla Meadows? Proceed into the salon with Mistress Monica and her assistant, Caitlin please?” Ms. Helena, the Head Wardrobe Mistress announced. 

    I stood, perfectly still, as Caitlin, a Sissy Shampoo girl, and Cosmetician Assistant, fastened a Salon Cape behind my neck to cover me from my shoulders to my stockinged knees. Then she held my hand as she guided me to a chair directly in front of a shampoo sink. 

    Caitlin carefully wet my hair with a warm watery spray. As she worked the shampoo into my scalp she encouraged me concerning my salon visit. 

    “Oh my gracious me, Miss Priscilla. Madame Monica is an absolute, sensational Cosmetician. She possesses a genuine artistry where Salon makeovers are concerned. When she’s completed your luxurious salon treatment, the girl you’ll see posing in the mirror will be the real and total Girly-Girl which I am certain you aspire to be darling?” Caitlin gushed, girlishly. 

    After a Creme Rinse Conditioning treatment, Caitlin wrapped my wet hair “Turban” style with a large, fluffy, pink towel. Then, with one hand placed at the small of my back, she escorted me to Madame Monica’s Wraparound Mirrored Styling Station Vanity. Madame Monica spoke to Caitlin.

    “I’ll need your assistance when we color her hair, Sissy. So don’t go anywhere. Now Priscilla. If you are in the least resistant to any procedure I’ll be conducting. Then trust me concerning this, girl. You won’t be the first Sissy I’ve bound and gagged in my stylization chair,” Madame said firmly.

    “Oh no, Madame Monica. I’m absolutely thrilled over today’s itinerary. I cannot wait until my photo and video sessions, as well as my well-rehearsed Audio-Visual presentation for my On-Line Profile,” I effused.

    “Oh really, now? Today is a very big day for any Sissy-Ingenue here at the Bellefaire Academy who is being prepared for her final term as a Bellefaire Maiden. Especially for you girls that will eventually be auctioned off next April. The April Auction is timed so that your Buyer will be able to make you a June Bride should He or She prefer that avenue of Ownership,” Madame Monica spoke informatively.

    In reality, it truly galled me that these Bellefaire Madame’s and Mistresses spoke so very casually as to the “Auctioning Off” of a Forcibly Emasculated Sissy Student, as if people everywhere held auctions to literally “Sell” feminized Maidens as future Brides.

     I was terribly Ill-Prepared for what was planned as my eventual future. However I had resigned myself to that unfathomable fate, as I realized that any sort of “Escape” from Bellefaire was far beyond my limited skills. I’d been a spoiled, pampered, scion of a Socialite Family.  

    My only true talents had been driving expensive automobiles, spending my inheritance, and dalliances with equally shallow females. Left to my own devices I was absolutely helpless to do anything on my own behalf. I was doing everything I possibly could to tell myself I’d be auctioned off to a very wealthy, kinky female and I’d live happily ever after as her Toy-Boy. 

    On the contrary, though, the possibility of me becoming the Trophy-Wife of a Filthy-Rich male was far more likely. I closed my eyes and did my best to relax as Madame Monica fingered my thick, shoulder length, medium brown hair and began to cut and shape it properly to her exacting standards. As she did so, she told me how much she enjoyed taking any Sissy and “Creating” an absolutely Stunning Trophy Princess for the viewing pleasure of any, Well-to-do, Bellefaire Client. 

    Her absolute Panache as she stated that fact, caused a chilling effect throughout my now, very slender frame. When Madame appeared satisfied with my “Cutting” I realized I now sported a mid-length “Bob” hairstyling, that barely touched my shoulders. 

    “Caitlin. Let’s strip her hair to a blond Palette. Then, I want you to do a mix of Vanilla Frost and Iced Lilac. Though I want 75% of the Frost and only 25% of the Lilac, dear,” said Madame Monica, subtly. 

    Between the foil wrap and the painting on of the bleaching cream, I’d never looked into a mirror and shivered at the degree of femininity that I had achieved to that point. I knew that was the true objective sought by the Ladies of Bellefaire. However, at this juncture, the absolute reality thoroughly permeated my Psyche.  

    After Caitlin had rinsed my hair with my head tilted back into a sink, she once again escorted me back to the styling station, bearing a “Turban” styled towel wrap. The striking vision of my brilliant, “Yellow” Blond tresses overwhelmed me as the towel was then removed.

    “Not to worry Princess Prissy. I find it so very amusing, though. I’ve seen that identical look of astonishment on both Sissies, as well as true females, in the past. It’s only the initial step in the coloring and tinting process darling. You won’t be a brassy, whorish blonde. Even though I just may think that you might look cute that way,” laughed Madame Monica. 

    “I really believe you’ll love the colorization I have planned for you dear. As will your future Husband or Mistress, I dare say. Now Caitlin. Let’s get to work making this Sissy a stunning little bitch for those Clients who will view her on line as well as when she’s finally sold at the Bellefaire Maiden auction,” Madame Monica smiled. 

    Once again I observed in the wrap around mirror, as both Caitlin and Monica attached the foil wrap to my Bobbed hair and then painted on the coloring and Tinting Creme. As I did so, Monica explained, “My intention is for you to be a very vivid shade of Platinum blonde when we are done with your coloring. Though, with a just a hint of Lilac. You’ll look hot, as well as adorable, all at the same time.”

    Indeed, after my next rinse, as the towel was removed, I could see that the “Brassy” look had vanished from my tresses, and the Icy White tint of my hair, now shimmered with the subtle dazzling, of a soft, pale, purplish shadowing. Ms. Monica used a sculpting gel, a warn blow dryer, her fingers and a soft brush to fashion my new, trendy hairstyle.

    I reasoned that if I was to appear to be a female, I just might desire to be an attractive, convincing girl. Once my lank, damp, tresses,  we’re just barely tickling the tops of my shoulders, Ms. Monica tilted back the adjustable salon chair I was seated in and began to do my makeup. 

    The various tints, colors and shadings of the cosmetics Monica used, were all designed to enhance the intensity of the very exciting, Icy White/Lilac blend of my hair. To this very day, I still continue to attempt to find that perfect balance to where my hair and makeup compliment each other just so very perfectly. 

    When I left the salon, my lips shimmered with a wet, crimson gloss. I was now following the lady that would be directing my photo shoot as well as my audio/video presentation. Her name was Madame Petra DeVaughn, a plumpish, though attractive, very bookish Mistress. She was truly, all business. My cosmetically enhanced cheeks glimmered with a burgundy glow. 

    My eyes “Popped” with varying shades of pink and mauve. My brows and lashes were now dramatized by Umber and Sienna shading and enhanced shaping. Ms. Petra was unimpressed. She had a job to do. She did not refer to me as Priscilla or Miss at all. I was simply, “Girl,” as in “Over here Girl.” 

    Or, “Come this way Girl and sit there.”   

    Ms. Petra had me strike varying poses for the photographer. Of course I preened, with one hand upon my hip, and the other held languidly at my side, while I stared seductively with puckered lips and “Bedroom” eyes. 

    Madame Petra had me posing doing “Girly-Girl” things, such as touching up my lipstick while looking into my compact mirror, or checking my nails. I went thru several “wardrobe” changes from lingerie, to a Bikini swimsuit, as well as a Maid’s uniform. It was when I wore the Bikini, that I actually realized just how severely my penis had shriveled and shrunk. 

    It was the “Audio-Visual” presentation that I knew would be the most difficult for me. As I would have to convincingly “Present” myself, as a willing, well-adjusted, participant in my very own emasculation, and an inexperienced Virgin, desiring to be trained in oral and anal sex. 

    Ms. Petra had me seat myself on a Pink, wide-wingback chair. I posed at the edge of the seat, with my hands folded in my lap. I had a on a pair of pink, high-heels, that blended perfectly with the chair. The heels were 4”, open toe, sandal style, with a fussy, ruffled ankle strap with an additional flounce over the toes. 

    I wore a white, pencil skirt, with a matching, buttoned, lettuce trimmed, long-sleeved, fussily ruched, stand neck blouse. My three sets of earrings dangled just below the edges of my Bobbed, Platinum, Lilac tinted tresses. My crimson lips and matching fingernails gleamed. I began my discourse when Ms. Petra said, “It’s time Priscilla. You may commence, dear.”

    As I looked into the camera I carefully read the Cue Cards provided to me by the Audio/Visual people. An employee of that department had carefully written the discourse I would be giving. Throughout the video I would act very animated and excited.  

    “Hello. My name is Priscilla Renee Meadows. I’m twenty-three and a Student Ingenue at the Bellefaire Institute. I am Five feet eight inches tall and I weigh 123 pounds. I have a 24 inch waist, and a 34 A+ Cup breast. My hips are 32 inches,” I started out.

    “I have had extensive training in homemaking skills such as Cooking, preparing, and serving meals. I can perform table setting, and serving tea. I have been schooled in housekeeping duties such as making beds, ironing, doing the wash and vacuuming,” I continued. 

    “I’ve also been tutored in hairdressing, massage, and giving baths, as well as doing manicures and pedicures. So, as you can see, I could be an adequate maid to a male, female or any couple that might  be interested in engaging me as a servant,” I went on.

    “However, my real dream-come-true would be to become the Paramour of any man, woman or couple that would require me to perform sexual services for them. Though I was born a boy, I am very pleased to say that the staff at the Bellefaire Institute has begun the process of Emasculating me to their very exacting standards,” I added, with a shy smile along with batting my eyes. 

    “I am really yearning for that Emasculation process to continue, once I graduate as a Bellefaire Maiden, and I am eventually purchased at auction. As for properly performing anal and oral services, I will have to be trained by whomever I will belong to, after being sold and  becoming their property. You see, in the practice of both oral and anal sex..... I am a Virgin,” I explained. 

    “Though I was a complete and utter failure as a male, I still insisted upon foolishly putting on the facade of being Straight, or Heterosexual. Therefore neither my mouth or anus has ever been penetrated by a real or artificial penis. I strongly believe it would be an absolute joy, to eventually be trained in the arts of both Fellatio and being Sodomized, even if my rectum would still be incredibly tight,” I added, licking my lips.

    “I understand that it is very likely, that the first few times I am buggered, it could be very uncomfortable or even painful. However, I am willing to experience that to learn to be the best possible lover to my Master or Mistress, and one day be their Concubine, Courtesan or possibly their Wife,” I sighed. 

    “Additionally. Though I have never taken care of any children, I have taken several classes concerned with Child-Care as well as the rearing of Children. I would truly love to be the mother of adopted children, the step-mother of any children you already have, or a Nanny, should I take on the role of a Housekeeper and Maid,” I added.

    “I do hope that I have adequately described myself. And I am very excited to meet my buyer or buyers, this coming April. Until then, I am your’s for the taking, Priscilla Renee Meadows,” I winked, as I flashed the brilliant, toothy smile, that only a Beauty Pageant contestant could  possibly manage to exhibit. 

    Though I was ready to faint, I composed myself. Madame Petra nodded and said, “Very well done Priscilla. Prior to your salon appointment, I requested of the Headmistress that I keep you with me for the entire weekend. You’ll be coming home with me. Don’t concern yourself with returning to your room, girl. I’ll have everything you’ll need at my condo.”

    It wasn’t a request. It was an order from a Bellefaire Mistress. And Madame Petra was a very well connected Bellefaire Mistress, as she frequently dined and socialized with the Madame Headmistress, Claudia Nottingham. Thus, I did not even dare to act as if I were not anything but, “Wholeheartedly enthusiastic” concerning such an exciting opportunity.

    I minced along, closely following her to her condo. Not that I ever had any choice. Prior to leaving the photography studio, Madame Petra had attached a collar and leash to my slender neck. As she led me along, as if I were her “Pet,” other Bellefaire students, even those in the more advanced “Maiden” Class Term, dared not to stare or even possibly comment. 

    However, Madame Petra’s fellow Mistresses, smirked, laughed and  pointed. One Mistress even called out, “Oh but she’s a cute Little Thing, isn’t she Petra? Well then, have some fun with her.” 

    When we arrived at Madame’s condo, Ms. Petra wasted no time with me. 

    “Let’s get you stripped down and into something sexy, comfortable and pleasing to me girl. Let’s see what we have here? Oh yes. This pearl colored negligee is just perfect for the task at hand. And leave those high-heels on. Everything else? Off with it girl,” she smiled as she tossed the lingerie onto her large, King bed. 

    I stripped carefully to my heels and then let the Negligee float over my smoothly shaven, well-waxed and scented body. It felt nice and cool upon my soft skin. I absentmindedly “Tossed” my hair seductively and smiled shyly, as I looked down at my painted toes. Ms. Petra wasted no time at all and took hold of me.

    “Come here to me Miss Prissy. Kiss me girl. Oh yum, you are a very sexy kisser aren’t you girl? Allow me a moment to make my aching Pussy  available to your Oral talents. I regret that we must keep you an anal Virgin. I’d simply adore Banging you with a large Strap-on,” Ms. Petra remarked as she removed her “Bookish” glasses. 

    Madame Petra very quickly divested herself of her clothing, and after tossing back the Comforter and top sheet, she laid upon the bed, her head resting comfortably upon two fluffy pillows. She motioned for me to “Come” to her. I’d certainly entertained my wife, Monet, with my oral talents in the past. I also knew by now my Cock wouldn’t work very well. Not that Petra would have me enter her anyway. 

    I climbed upon the bed, and immediately kissed Petra’s Pussy softly, prior to spreading the folds of her Labia to expose her Clitoris to my lips, fingers and tongue. My tongue flicked her clit gently as my lips encircled it. I sucked and licked her “Hot Button” and I heard her let out a gasp and a sigh of relief. She took control of me by intertwining her fingers within my Platinum locks.

    “Oh, but you Sissy-Bitches do know how to suck Pussy don’t you? You suck my Clit as well as any Lesbian slut I’ve ever taken to bed with me. It only proves to me that my life’s work of emasculating Pansies, just like you, Priscilla, is both valid and worthwhile. You Fairies were meant to be girls from birth. However, somehow nature went awry and made you a boy. A Sissified boy, but a boy nevertheless. Luckily, as in your case, a group of assertive, intelligent females intervened and sent you here to Bellefaire, to be properly feminized,” Ms. Petra said.

    That stinging insult caused me to blush shamefully to the roots of my Lilac tinted, girly, Platinum tresses. I swallowed my humiliation and continued to pleasure the woman that would be my Mistress for the entire weekend and beyond, as I would soon learn. As I increased my endeavors, I could feel Ms. Petra stiffen and buck. 

    The more I stimulated her, the tighter her grip on my hair became. Then, Ms. Petra began to exhort me, verbally and emphatically. 

    “Oh, you slutty, sissy bitch. Eat me, you whore. How I wish I could shove something nice and hard up your rectum and hear you scream. But no. You’re being sold as a Hetero-Virgin. That won’t last, I’ll wager. Once you’re sold you’ll be neither Straight, or a Virgin. 95% of all of our Fruity, Straight, Virgins, go to Ultra-Alpha Males. You’ll be broken to a sobbing, screeching, anal slut in no time at all, Sissy,” Ms. Petra laughed.

    “Oh gracious. I’m so very close. Keep eating me you bitch. Oh wow, I’m climaxing. Oh this is so Fucking good. Keep it up, keep it up, girl. Oh my. Praise to the Goddesses. Crawl up here and suck my tits, Priscilla,” Madame Petra demanded.

    I laid facing her, sucking on one nipple and fondling the other. I’d done it many times with Monet. Tears came to my eyes, as I recalled  my former life. I don’t know how long I suckled upon Petra’s breasts when she again spoke to me. 

    “You’re going to put on a little show for me Priscilla. Strip to your heels. That’s it. Go over to the vanity and fix your hair and face. Good girl. Make those lips gleam honey. Now stand near the bed, think about something sexual. Anything. Even eating my puss if you’d like. That’s correct. I want you to whack-off and suffer the shame and indignity of being unable to achieve any sort of Boner,” Ms. Petra spat.

    “Go right ahead, you Limp-Dick Faggot. Here, use some of my hand cream, for lube. I want you to dribble a little Sissy-Cream for Madame Petra. Simply for my amusement. And while you attempt to actually get hard, and climax, I’ll take a video with my camera-phone, to send to the Ladies who sold you to us, on Consignment. Now get to it, Prissy. We are all waiting patiently,” Ms. Petra mocked.

    I began to massage the hand cream all over my testicles. I assumed  that if I failed to do as Ms. Petra demanded, that a sound whipping with a belt just might be my fate? As I played with myself unsuccessfully, I attempted to picture my wife Monet, along with a few of the sluts I had cheated with. I then became so desperate I even conjured up visions of my Bitch of a Step-Mother, as well as my pain-in-the-ass Mother-in-Law.

    All to no avail, however. My cock remained flaccid, and my nuts were still dangling and useless. I began to whimper and sob at my pitiful plight. I could hear Madame Petra laughing. 

    “Oh you pathetic, Lipstick-wearing Faggot. What’s wrong with you? I’ll tell you what the problem is. Stop pulling on your clit that way and listen to me, girl. Now tell me the truth. Are you picturing females in your fantasies? Well are you? Tell me Priscilla,” Madame Petra demanded.

    “Yes Madame. You are correct,” I whimpered.

    “Well that’s where you are going all wrong girl. You are the female now. You should very gently be manipulating your clitoris and Labia. And as you do that, you should picture yourself, as a pretty, sensuous, sexually vital, young girl, who is being held, in the arms of a big, strong, virile, Bronze-Skinned, Alpha Male,” Madame Petra announced. 

    “He is holding you because he desires you sexually. He wants you as his paramour, his concubine, his Trophy girlfriend. He’ll make you  his Fiancee, and his wife. He’ll shower you with lovely gifts of jewelry. You’ll shop in the most luxurious boutiques. You’ll spend hours at the salon being pampered to look stunning for him,” Ms. Petra went on.

    “And for all of that, he’ll want your lips wrapped around his coppery-colored cock, and later, he’ll want to bury his penis in your very tight, Sissy-Ass-Pussy. Now think of that and let’s see the results,” Mistress Petra demanded. 

    “No please, Madam? No, not that? Please?” I begged. 

    “Either you do as I say Priscilla, and become at the very least, slightly erect, or I’ll strop your ass red-raw girl. Your lover just might  be Arabic, or he could be Hispanic. It doesn’t matter. He wants you,” Madame Petra hissed.

    I closed my eyes, with tears dripping down my blusher coated  cheeks. I did as I was instructed to, and somehow, magically, I could sense and feel my cock swelling slightly,  and my tiny balls begin to inflate mildly. I had settled upon the vision of a well-muscled Latino. I imagined myself as pretty, sexy and flirty. It was all that I could do. 

    To my surprise and intense panic, I found myself sexually aroused. And, by then, there was nothing that could stop me. I hadn’t experienced a climax in what seemed like months. Much of that time I’d been wearing a chastity tube over my penis. The tube had been locked together with a cage around my nuts. 

    Now I was free to ejaculate. And if imagining that I was having sex with a man would allow me to climax, then I was willing to sacrifice what very little remained of my fading boyishness, in order to achieve even a smidgen of sexual gratification. The nearer that I progressed to  a climax, the more I sobbed and quivered. 

    At long last, with the illusion of a very large, male penis penetrating my rectum, solidly imprinted upon my conscious mind, I began to spurt, intermittent dribbles of “Sissy-Creme” into my left hand, which earlier had been massaging my tiny, slightly-swelled, testicles. The shame that washed over me was mind-numbing. 

    The humiliation I experienced emotionally was so incredibly intense. The sobs and near-hysteria, overwhelmed me. I felt as if I should collapse to the floor blubbering. Instead I remained standing, feeling foolish to have one hand holding my teeny penis and the other cupped, with a small amount of sperm leaking through my gooey fingers. 

    “Very well done Miss Prissy. And it’s all on video, ready to be sent to your previous, female owners. Now girl. Go into my bath and wash your hands. Then put your negligee back on and come to bed with me. You may suckle my nipples and fondle my tits. We have a lovely weekend ahead of us, don’t we my girl?” Madame Petra said.

    “Yes Madame. Right away Madame. Anything you say,” I sobbed as I minced shamefully into the En-Suite bath. 

    I’d been crushed. I was beaten, broken and thoroughly defeated. I was fully and finally, a Fluttery, Frilly, Dainty, Demure, Subservient  Femme. 

Chapter III: A “Maiden” on Display 

    My hair and Cosmetic application had been completed. The Beauty staff had primped me, just as perfectly as I could have ever imagined, I could possibly look. I was perched upon six-inch, sandal-strap high-heels. I wore an uplift bra in a shiny silver, a matching silver lame ruffled panty-brief, and a mesh, transparent shawl, that fell to my midriff. 

    Other than what I have described, I just might as well been naked. My finger and toenails, just as my lipstick, shone in a brilliant crimson.  My hair was “Up” in a sleek, wet-look, swirled Ballerina-like Updo. The Mid-April Bellefaire Institute Auction, of Graduating Bellefaire Maidens was in full swing. 

    In fact, the only “Maidens” who remained to be auctioned were those of us that were designated as “Hetero-Virgins.” There were a total of Six of us “Girls” waiting in the wings The Madame Headmistress, Claudia Nottingham strolled across the Auction stage smiling, to stand at the podium and take the microphone. 

    Backstage, Madame Petra spoke to me saying, “It will be your time very soon, darling Priscilla. I must leash and collar you now, as well as cuff your wrists behind your back dear. Now remember. If you are even the least bit fearful, it will be all to the good for you to show that fear in your eyes, my dearest girl. All the better to excite our most wealthy clients to bid that much higher.” 

    “There. Is the collar nice and tight Darling? Well good. Turn your back to me love, so that I might fasten your handcuffs. Very good. Alright girls, line up. Madame Headmistress will be announcing you and then we’ll parade you all out individually,” Madame Petra said.

    Let’s see? Chloe, you are first. Then Bethany, followed by Heather, Priscilla, Monica and finally Carlotta,” Madame Petra announced as the other Mistresses, collared, leashed and handcuffed, each of the “Virgins” that were ready to be sold. 

    “Well, we’ve now come to the most exciting portion of the auction. Yes. Today we have Six girls, all who are classified as Heterosexual Virgins, that will now be put up for bid. Yes! I knew you’d be thrilled. I now want to introduce our first girl, Miss Chloe. Will Chloe’s Mistress please parade her back and forth across the entire stage for the bidders to view her? And then, please pose her just to the right of the podium for bidding please?” Madame Claudia stated. 

    As Chloe was carefully “Escorted” on her leash to one end of the stage, Madame Claudia announced her height, weight, and the size of her Bosom, as well as her waistline and hip measurements. She additionally revealed Chloe’s natural hair-color as well as the “Courses” she’d been trained in. Chloe looked nervous as she stood to the right of the podium and the bidding began. 

    I then simply closed my eyes to drown out the hoots, hollering, catcalls and the wild bidding that was taking place. It wasn’t until Heather’s name was called that I once again became fully aware of my surroundings. Heather, a bosomy, full-figured girl, now pranced across the stage. I was to be auctioned immediately after Heather. 

    As Heather was finally led off the stage, after Madame Headmistress had announced her final sale price, I noted that Heather was openly sobbing. Madame Petra tugged lightly at my leash. 

    “We are next Miss Priscilla. You know what to do. Mince and sashay to the stage right, in reference to Madame Headmistress. Then, turn and prance back to stage left. Finally, follow me until you are just to the right of Madame Claudia, at the podium. Then you will pose and preen for the audience of interested bidders. Now listen for our Cue,” Ms. Petra stated. 

    “Our next offering has raised quite a bit of interest thru our online platform. Our Sales Department has handled a number of inquires concerning her. And so, for your Bidding interest, I’d like to introduce Miss Priscilla Renee Meadows,” Madame headmistress announced. 

    I minced carefully behind Ms. Petra. I did everything I possibly could to shut out the noise from the bidding audience as well as Madame Claudia’s detailed description of me. I simply wanted to concentrate on the tiny steps I was taking, as well as properly wiggling my derriere. At the edge of Stage Right, we turned and I made my way back to the other end of the stage.

    Finally, I realized we were at last posed just to the right of the podium and the excitement of the bidding had begun. Madame Claudia was an amazingly talented auctioneer. The bidding reached a crescendo and then it appeared to fall off. At long last I heard the words from Madame Claudia’s painted lips, “Sold, to the Young Lady in the green brocade dress!”

    I gasped with a breath of relief. I’d thankfully been sold to a young female. Obviously wealthy of course. Immediately, Ms. Petra escorted me to the left stage exit. As I passed by Monica and Carlotta, I lowered my eyes in shame. Whether or not I’d been sold to a female did not matter at that immediate moment. What did resonate between the three of us was that I’d been sold as if I were an Arabian Slave Girl. 

    And very soon, both Carlotta and Monica would be sold as well. Shortly after, Ms. Petra led me on my leash to an area just outside the sales office where I’d eventually be handed over to my new owner. To my excitement and surprise a glamorous young Latina exited from the office. She looked up and said, “Oh, thank you. You’ve brought Priscilla to me.”

    “Yes I did. And she comes with a collar, leash and handcuffs. Here is the key to her cuffs. As we speak, the Maid Staff should be loading her wardrobe and accessories, into your Limo, ma’am,” Ms. Petra announced. 

    “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Donna Marisol Ortega. The younger sister of Don Carlos Ortega. Both Don and Donna are titles frequently used in our home country of Colombia. I conduct my brother’s business as I am an Attorney at Law. Priscilla is now the valued property of Don Carlos,” Marisol informed us. 

    My heart sank. This Latina beauty was not my new Mistress. Her older brother had purchased me. Ms. Petra handed me over to Marisol and kissed me softly on the cheek. That was her way of bidding me adieu. 

    “Oh, Priscilla. I met some very nice people in the sales office that wanted to speak with you. Ladies, I’m getting ready to take her to the Limo. Why don’t you come out from the office and see her off to Bogota?” Marisol said.

    “Oh but you do look sensational, Priscilla. We knew you would,” a chilling voice spoke.

    It was none other than my Step-Mother, Jillian Meadows. Behind her came both Monet and Clarissa. 

    “Well isn’t this a lovely reunion Priscilla? Your Step-Mommy, and your Ex-wife, along with your former Mother-in-Law?”Marisol asked. 

    “We came to collect our very, handsome commission from the profits of your sale to Don Carlos. I’m certain you’ll make a very lovely bride, Priscilla,” my Ex-wife Monet smiled.

    “In fact we’ll be able to be at your wedding to Don Carlos, Miss Prissy. Ms. Ortega has invited us to the Ortega, Bogota estate, where you are to be married,” Clarissa, my former Mother-in-Law announced. 

    I was stunned. After their announcement, the ladies all hugged Marisol and thanked her profusely for the wedding invite and strolled away laughing. Marisol then led me on a leash to an elegant limo. An armed, security man, who I had not noticed prior to that moment, escorted us.  Once in the limo, Marisol announced, “Have the flight crew make ready the private jet, Manuel. I want us to leave for Bogota within the hour.”

    “As you wish Donna Marisol. I have the word of the Pilot that our flight awaits us,” Manuel said. 

    It wasn’t until we were ready to be seated, on board the plane, that Donna Marisol removed my leash, collar and handcuffs. Then she handed me a bottle of Aloe Vera, Vitamin E gel.

    “Use this on your wrists where you were manacled Priscilla. As well as on your neck where they attached your Dog collar. We are ready for take off. It is a 6 hour flight to Bogota. Plus another hour or so to clear customs and drive to the family estate where my brother Carlos and I reside. We won’t be at the Hacienda until 8 PM Bogota time,” Ms. Marisol explained.

    “So I will order lunch now and dinner in about 5 hours. Once you have eaten lunch, I’ll expect you to go to the dressing room just across from the Flight Attendant station. There you will find a skirt and blouse I want you to change into. You may continue to wear the bra, panties and heels you are currently robed in,” Marisol went on.

    “There should also be cosmetics laid out, as well as hair care products and items, which you may utilize to fix your Updo. I want you to be presentable should you meet my brother this evening, as well as your Duenna. She will assuredly be meeting our flight,” Donna Marisol said.

    “My Duenna, Donna Marisol?” I asked.

    “Yes. I’ve hired a Duenna to supervise and tutor you. I am a very busy lady. I need someone to see to it that you are properly groomed to be the perfect Latina wife for my brother, Carlos. A Duenna is what you would call a Governess. I do not intend for you to appear to be a Latina. My brother has a real ‘Thing’ for Platinum Blonde Gringas, such as you. However I want you to have the emotional bearing of a subservient, doll-like, Latina Bride,” Donna Marisol explained. 

    I had much to think about by the time the Private Jet landed. I stepped off of the plane, wearing a multi-tiered, rainbow colored swing skirt, and a White, Ruffled Collar, Frill Trim, Knot Front Blouse. Three Limousines met our flight at the Private landing field. 

    Donna Marisol and I were assigned to the front Limo, along with my Duenna, a “Forty-Something” Matron named Anna Maria. I was to refer to her as “Madre Duenna” or Duenna Anna Maria. A security guard got into the front passenger seat along with the driver. 

    In the second Limo was the flight crew. In the third were several more members of the security staff. 

    “Madre Duenna. This is Priscilla,” Marisol said just prior to us sliding into the limo. 

    I knew exactly what to do. I had practiced “Curtseying” until I’d become exhausted at the Bellefaire Institute. I immediately dipped into a deep curtsey that I might reserve for a queen. As I held the Curtsey, I said, softly, “I am so very honored to be in your presence, Duenna Anna Maria.” 

    On the drive to the Ortega Estate, Madre Duenna told Donna Marisol, “I was informed by your Social Secretary that Don Carlos is at the home of your parents, and will not be in until late, Donna Marisol.” 

    “That is all well and good, Madre Duenna. My brother Carlos will then meet his future Bride at the 10 AM brunch, tomorrow, Saturday morning. In the meantime, when we arrive at the Hacienda, have two of the maids take Miss Priscilla’s belongings to her Boudoir suite. See to it that they place her wardrobe properly in her dressers and closets,” Donna Marisol stated.

    “All of her accessories as to jewelry, cosmetics, hair care items and the like should be stored at her vanity and in the En-Suite bath, as well as her Study. Additionally, see to it that she bathes with the proper salts as well as oils and that she moisturizes as well as powders her body. Should my brother choose to remove her clothing, I want her skin to be smooth, soft, scented and hairless,” Ms. Marisol went on.

    “Once she bathes, make certain her hair is set in curlers, her face is coated in a cream, and she’s in a proper nightgown for bed. You may escort her to the Sunroom in the A.M. to meet Carlos at brunch. I want you and Priscilla to take a number of meals together. However, tomorrow I want our brunch to be private,” Marisol insisted.

    “Of course Donna Ortega,” my Duenna nodded humbly.

    “And now this. Here is the key to her Chastity device. There is no need for that to be worn by her, unless as a punishment. In fact, it makes a bit of an unsightly bulge in her panties. Besides. Her genitalia is virtually useless at this stage and I doubt she’ll be playing with herself at all,” laughed Marisol. 

    “If she does attempt to play with herself, Donna Ortega, I’ll whip the palms of her hands Red,” promised Duenna Anna Maria. 

    “As you should Anna Maria. I place all disciplinary measures in your hands, Duenna. I trust your judgment implicitly as to any and all Castigations,” Marisol pronounced. 

    When we arrived at the Ortega estate, Ana Maria ordered two maids, in Spanish, to care for my belongings. We went up a flight of stairs and she showed me my boudoir, along with the adjoining bath and a Study/Sitting room. She had me strip to the buff. I could see her smirk when she lowered her eyes to my tiny genitalia. 

   Then she motioned me closer to her, and unlatched the lock, which fastened my Chastity Tube to the Cage around my testicles. There I stood, a former 23 year old male, grateful that my “Governess" had freed my genitalia.

   She then checked the temperature of the water leaving the bath faucets and added the salts and oils. I truly felt as if I were an 18 or 19 year old Debutante Female being trained by her governess. 

    “I’ll be collecting a nightgown and marabous for you to wear. I’ll also choose an outfit for you to dress in for Tomorrow’s  brunch. You are to bathe, shampoo your hair and use both a creme rinse and conditioner. Fully moisturize and powder your body. Then, meet me at your vanity,” Duenna ordered. 

    The bath water felt delightful. I could nearly feel the salts and oils penetrating my body’s exterior as they virtually feminized my skin. The spongy Loofa and the perfumed soap, caused me to feel ever increasingly girlish. As I went thru the shampoo, cream rinse and conditioning process, I finally realized that I had just flown in a jet, likely going 550 MPH, and traveled 6 hours from the United States.

    I was now bathing, at a remote Estate, an hour outside of Bogota, and well over 3000 miles from the US. And I was very soon, to be undergoing the grooming process, to be married to an Alpha male, that I suspected might be, in some nature, a Drug-Lord or Criminal Kingpin? 

    My thought process was interrupted by my Duenna announcing, “You do realize among other things, I’ll be tutoring you to properly speak Spanish, don’t you Priscilla? Have you ever spoken any Spanish, young lady?” Duenna asked.

    “I did have three years of Spanish in High School, Duenna,” I said sweetly.

    “It’s a beginning then. I’ve set out your curlers and setting gel, whenever you are ready, Priscilla,” Duenna responded. 

    Once I had dressed in a silvery, satin nightgown, and stepped into a pair of pink mules, my Duenna had me roll up three sections of my tresses, prior to stopping me, as she checked my hair-setting skills as to the tightness of the rollers. 

    “Very skillfully done Priscilla. I can see that the beauty instructors at Bellefaire tutored you very well in Hairdressing,” my Duenna stated. 

    I was emotionally moved with contentedness simply based on my Governess complementing me on my tonsorial attributes. Shortly afterwards I fully realized that my psychological maturity was indeed at the level of a girl in her late teens or very early twenties that was determined to gain the approval of the adults that were mentoring her. 

    The curlers were not the smallest I’d ever seen, however they were less than medium sized. By the time I had completed my “Wet-Set” to Madre Duenna’s satisfaction I must have had a few dozen rollers wound in my shoulder-length hair. Once I had covered the curlers with a hair net, I was told to coat my face and lips with Cold Creme. 

    “You need to sleep now Priscilla. You have had a very long, exciting, and tiring day, darling. In the morning you will at last meet the man that desires you in marriage. And now, Madre Anna Maria will give you a little something to help you get to sleep. Sit on the edge of the bed, my dear. Now take this pill and wash it down with some water. There now. Good girl,” Madre Anna added.

    “That’s it. Now lay down and allow me to put the coverlet over you. Nice and comfy? Let me kiss you goodnight sweetie,” Madre Duenna added as she kissed me fully on my lips.

    “I want you to have plenty of time to dress, and do your hair and makeup in the morning. You must look perfect for your first meeting with Don Carlos Ortega,” Madre cooed as she closed the door to my room.

    I was awakened by one of the maids at around 8 AM. The maid, named Lisette, was a Caucasian girl, which surprised me initially. Somehow, I had believed that all of the Ortega’s household servants would be Hispanic. Lisette was very shy, and soft spoken. And, for the most part, spoke to me with her eyes lowered. 

    She requested that I strip to the buff and hold tightly to one of the four bedposts on my canopied bed.

    “Your lacing bar and lacing pedestal should be installed next week in your sitting room and study, Miss Priscilla. For now, I’ll be snugging you into a waist nipper. Madame Duenna suggests I pull you in two full inches. May I measure your waist, Miss Priscilla? Thank you Miss,” Lisette whispered.  

    As Lisette was tugging at the laces of the waist nipper, Madre Duenna entered my boudoir to watch. I could tell from the heavy breaths that Lisette was taking, that Lisette was struggling with my waist reduction. Though, I’d become uncomfortable enough. Finally she paused and said, “I’m going to measure you again Miss Priscilla. There, 24 inches Madre Duenna.”

    “Very well done, Lisette. Help her with her brassiere and her panties, now,” Madre Duenna instructed.

    I was placed into a 34 B-Cup, lightly padded, white bra, and a beige, paneled panty brief. Donna Marisol had been correct. Without the Chastity tube and testicle cage, my “Clit” and “Peanuts” made nary even a tiny bump to mar my girlish pudenda.

     I must admit, the dress and heels they put me into were absolutely gorgeous. The dress was in a Virginal White shade, and an Off the Shoulder, Frilled creation, with a Shirred Waistband, Puff Sleeves, and a Layered Hem. My heels were pink, closed toe pumps with three-inch heels. My Governess, Madre Anna Maria, dismissed Lisette.

    Then Duenna Anna Maria explained a few things about the Ortega household staff, as she removed the curlers from my hair, to ready my Platinum, Lilac tinted tresses, for styling and spraying. 

    “Lisette, the girl who just assisted you with dressing, is a Gelded Sissy. In fact, only the Managerial Household staff here at the Ortega estate are true, genetic females. That would include me, Donna Marisol’s Social Secretary, the Head Housekeeper, the Chef, and the Senior maid. The remainder are all Castrates, which Donna Marisol Ortega purchases, from either the Bellefaire Institute, the Winthrop Conservatory, or the Silkwood Academy,” Anna Maria said.

    “Once she purchases the Sissies, she has them neutered, to negate  the occurrences of Sexual Liaisons, among the lower level servant staff,” Anna Maria added as she removed the last, smallish roller from my hair. 

    My locks were now a mass of puffy, minuscule curls, which Madre Duenna began to arrange and style into nearly childish, springy ringlets and dainty spirals. As Anna Maria was styling my hair, another “Maid” entered the room to remove the crimson polish that I’d worn  at the Auction and replace it with a Lilac shade. 

    The “Girl’s” name was Giselle, and I assumed she was a Sissy, that was now missing her testes? As Giselle did my nails, Duenna Anna sprayed my “Delightful” curls and pinned a Lilac colored, Jumbo,  Tasseled bow, to the “Puffily” curled back of my tresses. 

    The color scheme of the day as far as Duenna was concerned must have been Lilac? As she began my makeup I noted that my blush, eye-shadow and lipstick were all in that light, purplish shading. 

    “I know that you can do your own makeup by now dear, however I wanted your hands free for Giselle to paint your nails, darling,” Duenna explained needlessly.

    Once the Maid, Giselle, had taken her leave, Anna Maria scented my wrists and neck with “Opium” Perfume. Then she sprayed my tresses with Lacquer. Finally she used a Cosmetic setting spray upon my face. 

    “Your Master and Mistress usually arrive to brunch early. They might be discussing family matters or business? Still, I know Don Carlos is eager to meet you. Should they continue their discussion in  your presence, I will expect you to play the role of an Empty-Headed Bimbo, and exhibit a complete disinterest in their adult conversation,” Madre instructed me. 

    Madre had me take a last look at myself in a full-length mirror attached to the back of my Boudoir door. She wanted me to view just how ultra-girlish, feminine and pretty I looked. I would have little trouble playing the role expected of me. We minced to the doorway of the elegant Sunroom.

    “I’ll be announcing you. Step into the room when I call for you. Mince into the room and stand to my left. Curtsey, bow, and speak to the Don initially. Then to Marisol. You’ve practiced what I expect you to say,” Madre instructed me. 

    “Excuse me, Don and Donna Ortega. I have Miss Priscilla here to brunch with you,” Madre said.

    “Please have her come in. My dear brother can barely contain himself,” Marisol said.

    “Priscilla. You may enter and meet Don Carlos Ortega,” Madre said.

    I minced dutifully, to Madre’s immediate left. As I curtseyed and bowed, I added, “I am so honored to meet you, Don Carlos. This home is such an elegant Palace. It is wonderful to see you once again, Donna Marisol. I slept so wonderfully. I simply adore my boudoir suite.”

    “You were correct once again my dear sister. She is even more lovely than she appeared in her photos and her video. I must greet her with a kiss,” Don Carlos stated.

    “Then please do kiss her Carlos. She belongs to you now. Remember? I purchased her for you at Auction,” Marisol added.

    “I’ll be taking my leave now,” announced Madre Duenna. 

    It was then, that I saw something that I would note again, on future  occasions. It was as if Don Carlos was going to ask Madre Duenna to dine with us. But as he began to speak, his younger sister, Marisol admonished him with a wave of her left hand and a raised index finger. The Don stopped and nodded to Madre Duenna, who exited the room.

    As he walked towards me, I stood, stock still, smiling with closed lips. My hands and arms were at my sides. My hands and wrists were extended daintily and parallel to the floor. My fingers were girlishly spread. Don Carlos took me into his arms. I found his mannish aggressiveness to be totally overpowering. 

    I nearly collapsed into his strong arms. I became weak in the knees and hoped he didn’t release me from his embrace, least I collapse to the floor. However, he did not intend to do that. I meekly looked up into his eyes. Even with me wearing heels he was distinctly taller than me. He placed his mouth against my painted lips and kissed me with a forceful, mannish passion. I then closed my eyes as his tongue entered my mouth. 

    It was then I melted into his Alpha Male embrace, and wrapped my arms around him, just below his broad, manly shoulders. That just wasn’t my very first kiss with Don Carlos. That was my very first kiss with anyone of the Masculine gender. And it was overwhelming for me. 

    My breaths came in deep, dreamy, passionate waves. For just a moment, I wished that he’d never, ever, release me from his powerful, 

protective arms. When he did slowly break away from our kissing, he smiled and said, “Such a wonderful set of plump, lovely, lips that you possess, my Priscilla.” 

    “Oh thank you Master Don Carlos. Your kiss was simply so fabulous,” I gasped and tittered. 

    “I insist, that when we are intimate such as now, that you call me Daddy,” Don Carlos stated.

   “Yes. Of course. Daddy,” I added shyly, with my eyes lowered and lidded. 

    Don Carlos escorted me back to the table and seated me for the Brunch, even holding my chair for me as I sat. This action elicited a response from his sister Marisol.

    “Well now, that was a first. And don’t look at me as if you have no clue of what I am speaking. You held her chair for her. You’ve never done that for any female. Not even me, nor our mother, ever,” Donna Marisol stated.

    “Our father holds mother’s chair. Now, let’s not make a scene over my chivalrous act, Marisol,” the Don added.

    I felt as if a were an absolute Princess. However I would soon find out, that I needed to achieve quite a bit more, to reach such an Enchanted level. 

Chapter IV: Tutored as a Concubine

    It had been two weeks since I attended my first brunch with Carlos and Marisol Ortega. I’d attended two additional Saturday brunches since then. It was later in the day, upon that 3rd Saturday afternoon. I was being tutored in “High-Heel Prancing” by Duenna Anna. I was attempting to put together the proper “Sashay” with the appropriate exaggerated “Wiggle” of my butt and hips.

    Things just were not working properly at that moment. Duenna stopped the proceedings and said, “Something is terribly distracting you, my Charge. Please explain?” 

    “It’s so terribly embarrassing Madre Duenna,” I replied.

    “Nonsense. I am your seer. Your Confidante. Once again. Tell me,” Duenna insisted.

    “It began at my first brunch with the Master and Mistress. Don Carlos kissed me so very wonderfully, and pressed me to him, to where my breasts were snug against his manly chest. The following two brunches, including today’s, he not only kissed me firmly, he  embraced me sensuously, as well. He also allowed his hands to roam all over my derriere, fondling and massaging my hips and butt,” I explained.

    “And now, for the past week or so, every evening in bed, I seem to have nocturnal visions where I am alone, unclothed, and with Don Carlos. And we are very seriously involved, in truly sexual and seductive liaisons,” I continued.

    “My darling Chica. This is all very normal. You have become enchanted with a man that finds you to be very desirable. What we need to do now is find a way to relieve the excitement that you feel within you. I will discuss this with Donna Marisol and we will have a solution for you on the morrow,” my Duenna promised.

    The following afternoon, I found myself following closely behind Madre Anna Maria, on the way to my Sitting Room and Study. Other than a pair of Four-inch, high-heeled pumps and an underwired, uplift, Lavender Colored Brassiere, the rest of my body was without clothing. 

    Duenna Anna Maria had continued giving me my twice monthly hormone injections, and I still took my “Pretty Pills” each and every morning. My bosom had now expanded to a 36 inch, B-Cup, and my genitalia had shrunken yet tinier. When we arrived at my Study, I noted that a Massage table had been placed near the sitting area. The table was covered with a bedsheet. 

    “Priscilla Darling, why don’t you lay face down over the treatment  table dear? That’s a good girl sweetie. Allow me to put this pillow under your genitals, Baby? I want you to grip the legs of the table on each side. There. I’m going to use these scarfs to secure your wrists to the table legs. Just lay your face in the headrest, sweetie,” Duenna said very casually.

    “Ah, Duenna. Oh how wonderful. I see you have our girl ready to be milked,” Donna Marisol exclaimed as she entered the Sitting room. 

    “Priscilla. There is nothing to be ashamed of for having those bedtime fantasies of my brother Carlos. I’m certain many young, twenty-three year old females, have found my older, very mannish  brother, at age 35, to be utterly irresistible. As soon as Carlos arrives, he will be Prostate-Milking you dear. You need to have that done at least weekly, in order to rid yourself of these pent up sexual tensions you are now experiencing,” Marisol Ortega insisted. 

    Though I’d never been “Prostate-Milked,” I thought I just might have a vague idea of what could be involved with such a procedure? Though I knew I would not presently be given any sort of full-bodied, Swedish Massage. Even with my face now buried in the table’s headrest, I could sense the presence of my Master, Carlos, in the room.

     “Ah. Doesn’t her nearly naked body appear so very lovely, ladies? Please relax my sweet one? I am here to masturbate you so that your sexual frustrations will melt away. You are not frightened, are you my lovely little doll?” Carlos asked.

    “No Daddy. I feel very safe when I am in your strong, masculine hands,” I cooed. 

    “Wonderful darling. I am going to carefully lubricate your lovely rectum with my fingers and some KY-Jelly. Then I will massage the inner walls, along with your prostate. You will very soon experience the emotions of a perfectly sated maiden,” Carlos promised.

    “Oh thank you so very much, Daddy,” I whispered. 

    I felt Carlos’s wet, lubricated fingers enter my anal passage. I thoroughly realized that this was hardly any sort of private moment,  and that both my Governess and Marisol were observing Carlos probe my anus. All at the same time, I did not feel shamed or violated as it was “Daddy” Carlos that was touching me. 

    It wasn’t until I began to squirm, whinny and wiggle, that I wished my “Milking” was being performed in a more intimate setting. Carlos’s fingers contacting my Prostate began to really set me off. I’d never experienced such a thrilling, sensuous, sexual titillation. My body tingled all over, and I began to “Hump” the pillow that Madre Duenna had placed beneath my shriveled genitalia. 

    I started to vocally emit little screeches and sighs. The gasps coming from me became more frequent and much louder, and my body’s gyrations increased to a near frenzy. I could hear whispers and giggling coming from both Madre Duenna and Marisol. However Carlos remained silent as he worked me over into a dithering mess.

    When I finally did “Climax” it was chillingly introspective and more powerfully “Soulful” than it was physical. Though, I was shaking, mewling and blubbering, by the time Carlos removed his fingers from my butthole. I was still sobbing girlishly and wanting to be held in his arms, when Carlos spoke to his sister.

    “Marisol, she is exceptionally tight,” Carlos said.

    “Well now, isn’t that a good thing? I mean for the man? For the girl to be tight?” Marisol asked.

    “Marisol. There is tight. Then there is very tight. In my experience she needs to be widened in order for me to enter her comfortably,” Carlos went on.

    “Well now I see. Madre Duenna? Will you attend to it that Giselle and Lisette flush her colon with a warm water enema, rinse her and then give her a scented douche, please? I’ll place a kit of vaginal dilators in your boudoir, Anna Maria. Start her out on the smallest one. She should wear it 24/7 unless she has to evacuate or the dilator needs to be cleaned,” Marisol said.

    “Tomorrow I will discuss with you another exercise she can do, to train her to experience climaxing in a female manner,” Marisol announced.

    I wasn’t quite prepared for the indignity of being given an enema by two, Castrated Sissies. Once I was cleansed and rinsed, they also gave me a scented Douche. Then, Madre Duenna Anna Maria,  demonstrated to them, how to insert the “Butt Plug” in my rectum. 

    Upon each and every, Sunday afternoon, my Duenna would require me to read a large portion of a typical “Romance” Novel. The storyline generally followed a Demure Young Lady who was taken captive by and evil prince or a Pirate, and she would need be rescued by a “Knight in Shining Armor” or a Swashbuckling Hero. Of course I was supposed to picture myself as the “Damsel in Distress,” and needless to say, Don Carlos was my rescuer. 

    My Sitting Room had a Victorian styled Bow Window. Madre Anna would have me sit on the Seating Nook of the Bow Window with my back to the sun, which would warm me as it streamed in.

    Upon the Sunday following my initial Prostate “Milking,” I attired myself in a Swing skirt, a Halter style top, ankle socks and kitten heels.

     Madre Anna then said, “You won’t need panties today, dear, nor your rectal dilator.”

    I could just sense that something unusual was amiss and indeed my instincts were correct. As we arrived at the Sitting Nook of the bow window I could see a Strap-on dildo, minus the strap, standing straight up, at the very spot where I normally sat to read. The dildo had been glued by it’s base, to the Sitting Nook Seat. 

    “Set your book down Priscilla. Now lift the hem of your skirt and allow me to lubricate your rectal opening darling,” Madre said so very casually. 

    “Oh no? Oh please Madre Duenna, but why?” I begged, nearly in tears.

    “Priscilla. You know far better than to ever question me or any dictate from Donna Marisol. Now hold still. There. Now I’ll lube the Dildo. Now please? Slowly lower yourself down over the Faux Penis. I’ll guide you my Little Princess,” Duenna said so very sweetly.

    The dildo was only slightly larger than the most recent butt plug I’d been wearing. But still, I gasped and took deep breaths as I flexed my anal muscles and my rectum at last closed tightly upon the dildo.

    “There. That wasn’t so bad was it, now? Well good. Now just relax and here is your novel. Remain seated. Neither I nor Donna Marisol really care to discipline you today. And guess what? You may get a surprise visit from Don Carlos,” Madre Anna Maria announced.

   “You see my dearest Priscilla, this weekly exercise is designed to teach you to feel like a female when you climax with a penis inside of you,” Duenna explained. 

    And now, one last little feature my dear. If you need to Pee-Pee or Poop-Poop, call me on my cellphone. Or if Don Carlos is here, let him know darling,” Madre Duenna said as she knelt on a cushion.

    I then realized that there were leather manacle cuffs, attached to the flooring. Duenna then attached the cuffs to my ankles and latched them. Now I was practically “Anchored” to the Dildo that was in my rectum, by my anklet manacles. 

    Indeed, after I’d been reading for only about ten minutes, Don Carlos entered the room and seated himself beside me. He played with my hair and then took the book I was reading from my hands.

    “You look so very lovely today, my dear,” he said as he untied the bow that was holding my halter top and uncovered my breasts. 

    “Oh, thank you so very much Daddy. And to what do I owe this honor?” I asked.

    “I’ve come to play with your tits, kiss your nipples, massage your clit, and French Kiss with you,” Don Carlos explained.

    “Oh goodness Daddy. That sounds to be such a wonderful way to spend a Sunday afternoon,” I said as he embraced me and I wrapped my slender arms around his back. 

    Our kisses were overwhelmingly passionate. When we broke away from the kiss I buried my head into Carlos’s chest and he fondled my tits and then sucked on my nipples. My passion began to increase and my ass cheeks started to clench the dildo I was seated on, tightly. I would then release the pressure. 

    It was when Carlos not only French kissed  me, but played with my Sissy-clit and ball sac, that he nearly drove me crazy. Not only did I continue to clench my ass cheeks around the dildo, I also began to pump up and down, upon the faux-cock that was up inside my ass. 

    The feelings and emotions I was dealing with, simply filled me up and made me perceive that I was so very fulfilled. I could no longer wait to really have sex with this man. But I knew he was mentoring me  to eventually arrive at that place. However, I could no longer hold back the emotions I was dealing with at that moment. 

    As I continued to stroke my ass up and down upon the dildo, I began to grunt and pant. As Carlos fingered and squeezed my genitalia I finally let out a screech, and my seminal fluid began to leak from my Sissy-Clit. It was so wonderful. I fell forward and laid my head upon Carlos’s shoulder and whimpered. 

    “Oh my gracious Daddy. That was so very amazing. You are so very amazing, my Master. Oh, please teach me more? Teach me to please you daddy,” I gushed. 

    The Dildo Sitting exercises went on for a few more weeks. It was a Saturday evening, after I had taken a bath. I was ready to set my hair for bed, when Duenna Anna Maria came to my boudoir and said, “Let’s do your hair and makeup, Priscilla. Then we’ll put you in some sexy heels and a negligee. Don Carlos is watching a movie in his office and wants to see you.” 

    When we were done with Primping me, my Lilac infused, Platinum tresses, flipped up at my shoulders. My Crimson lipstick gleamed and the rest of my face was painted boldly. I was wearing a Low-Cut, Wine-Red, Negligee with matching “Fuck-Me” red heels. I had three sets of earrings dangling to my shoulders. 

    I minced daintily to the door of Don Carlos’s private office and knocked lightly, to hear the Don say, “Please come in.”

    “Ah, Priscilla. You are just in time. Why not sit on Daddy’s Lap, Princess? We can each have a snifter of Peach Brandy,” Carlos asked, as I very quickly wiggled my butt and sat against his chest as his arms encircled me and he squeezed my bosom.  

    “Do you know what tastes wonderfully with Peach Brandy, Priscilla? Some of this top-shelf, Mexican weed, they call Acapulco Gold. Let’s share this joint. Here. Take a nice big pull,” Carlos offered. 

    I knew where this was going. I was not hanging out with the guys. No, I wasn’t within 3000 miles of where I had lived. I was in the presence of a man who had paid a small fortune to purchase me, based on what my finances had been, even when I was an heir to my parents’ money.

    This man I was seated with was strong, masculine, manly, assertive and dominant. He was everything I could never be. I had been a rich Pussy. I was little more than a Pansy-Boy. In very little time, with very little effort, a group of women had emasculated me into the simpering Caricature of a girl, in her late teens or early twenties. 

    At that very instant, as I smoked weed and drank with my Master, Don Carlos Ortega, I fully realized that very soon I would likely be sucking his cock or taking his penis up my asshole. As one of his hands began to knead my right tit, he sat his drink down, stubbed out the joint and took my drink away from me. 

    He next turned me to face him and planted a wet, forceful, French Kiss all over my creamy, red lips. I was breathing heavily when he broke away from the kiss and said, “Come to bed with me Priscilla. The time has now come.”   

    He lifted me as if I were a rag doll and said not a thing when I wrapped my legs around his waist. When we reached his bedroom he laid me down upon his bed and he very quickly and easily removed his clothing. 

    He laid upon the bed and pulled me to him, saying, “Relax and take your time. I know you’ve never sucked a cock. But, if you’ve ever had your cock sucked, you might be able to recall what you liked? In any event, kneel by my side and take me into your pretty mouth Priscilla.” 

    I didn’t hesitate. He was already prominently erect, though I felt his penis grow larger as I licked his balls and the tip of his cock. When I did begin to swallow a lager portion of his Dick, I really did learn what it was like to have an erect penis in my mouth. 

    I truly felt very sexy to have been able to impel Carlos’s hard member to grow between my painted lips. Since then, I always make it a point, to be certain, that my lips are bright, creamy and beautifully painted, and covered with at least a couple of coats of glimmering lipstick, prior to giving my lover a blow job. 

    As I sucked Carlos off, I could hear his raspy sighs and his manly groans and grunts, which told me he was feeling pleasured. I had his balls cupped in my hand and nearly all of his very large cock in between my wet, red lips. Though never having done so, I was ready to swallow his creamy ejaculate. Or, should he want me to, I was prepared to take a jet of his sperm to my painted face and my heavily sprayed hair. 

    But neither was to be. I would next hear Carlos’s deep, rasping voice interject,” I’ll need for you to lay upon your back, my lovely Princess. I’m going to see to it that you lose your anal virginity this evening.”

    Carlos was going to fuck me in the ass. I removed his cock from my mouth, making a “Popping” sound with the suction from my lips. I positioned myself upon my back. Carlos stood at the foot of the bed, and then he motioned for me to slide myself towards him. When I was in a satisfactory position, he lifted my legs by gripping me at my knees. 

    Then he slid me towards him until my ass touched his pelvis. He reached for a nearby tube of KY-Jelly and spread it over two of his fingers. He used those fingers to coat the inside of my anus liberally with the lubricant. Next he lubed his penis. Then he used my legs to lift my ass higher, and placed a pillow just behind my butt, under the small of my back.

    “You may lock your fabulous legs around my waist, my Princess. And now I’ll slowly insert my penis into your rectum,” Carlos said. 

    All those days and weeks of having a butt plug in my ass, had somewhat readied me for this moment. Sitting upon a dildo while reading a Romance Novel, as well as sliding up and down on the same dildo while Carlos and I “Made-Out” had certainly helped.

    However, I truly doubt that any female, genetic or otherwise, nor any Feminized Sissy, could have possibly been prepared for the entry of Carlos Ortega’s massive “Dong” sliding into their Pussy or Asshole? 

    As Carlos coached me along, I took nice deep breaths and moved my ass in an “In and Out” fashion. His cock slowly made it’s way up inside of me. The care and precision we were taking, reminded me of a video I’d once briefly viewed, concerning a woman birthing a baby. Ultimately, Carlos informed me that his long, fat cock was fully inside of me.

    Now, I proceeded to slowly adopt a rocking, sliding motion so that I could feel him move within my rectum. I began to tense at the shuddering pulsations, as the tip of his rock-hard “Man-Meat” contacted my throbbing prostate. I pushed my hands down onto the mattress to more carefully time the thrusting of my hips. 

    I’d really begun to enjoy how our bodies were moving in such perfect unison. Any discomfort I had once felt, had somehow left me and been replaced with the excitement of my very first true sexual encounter with my Master, Carlos. I continued to pump my ass in a nearly frantic frenzy, when finally I sensed my building passion, peaking. I could no longer hold back my heightened sensory arousal.

    My delirium crested, and came to a head with an ecstatic explosion. I bucked my hips uncontrollably and let go with a shuddering screech. I’d lost all sense of emotional boundaries. As I panted loudly, I could feel Carlos’s cock expand inside of me and release a geyser of warm, creamy, ejaculated fluid. I had finally come to realize what a girl experiences when a man orgasms deep inside of her. My entire body shook and shuddered. 

    I was sobbing like a drained, pleasured wench, when I felt Carlos’s cock exiting my rectum and his manly arms encircling me. He kissed my sobbing lips, and held my wet cheeks against his chest. Tears still trickled from my eyes and I felt as if I’d been reborn as a pleasured, properly fucked female. 

    No longer a virgin, all that was left for me to do was swallow a load of Carlos’s semen to finally taste what he’d just jetted into my flexing anus. At that very moment I could feel his seed dripping from my ass and wetting the back of my thigh. I pulled the hem of my negligee down to absorb the sticky ejaculate. Carlos rearranged the bedsheets and comforter to cover us both. 

    I turned to face him and kissed his chest. From the hour of the evening, the Brandy, the Marijuana and the manic Fucking, it was easy for me to drift off to slumber. It was just prior to dawn when I awakened and I briefly failed to recognize my surroundings. 

    I was so well-trained to sleep in curlers that I panicked when I initially thought I’d forgotten to set my hair at bedtime. Then I regained my consciousness and recalled that I’d only just recently ceased to be a Virgin both orally and anally. I turned to my left, and with the pale moonlight coming thru the crack in the curtains, I watched Carlos’s chest going up and down with his breath. 

    I checked the electric, bedside clock near me, and saw that it was only 5:15 AM. Should I? I crawled over very close to Carlos and as my hands searched under the sheet and coverlet I could feel his morning Boner coming to life. I slowly wriggled my svelte body underneath the bedding and slipped Carlos’s cock into my wet, saliva laden mouth. 

    When he stirred and mumbled something, I replied with a giggly, whisper, “Good morning Daddy. I’m simply being a good girl and relieving your nocturnal tensions.’

     “Oh? Of course. Yes, that feels very nice Princess. Please continue?” Carlos muttered. 

    I sucked, I slurped, I licked and I kissed, his entire cock, up, down and around, along with his testicles. His “Package” was all so very massive. Looking at it, even in the dark, as my eyes adjusted to the lack of lighting, baffled me. Did I really have the entire length and girth of that Monster deeply inside of me, last night? 

    I have found over numerous trials and tests, that Morning Erections are completely different “Animals” all unto their very own. One has to take very special care to achieve a climax in a reasonable length of time. The initial “Woody” of any day can be very long lasting if one is not careful to use all of her sensual skills to the very best of her advantage. 

    My great care of my lover’s genitals upon that Morn, truly paid off. As Carlos climaxed he sent gobs of his salty, manly, gooey, “Baby Batter” into my mouth. I gobbled up his spurting seed with great precision, seeing to it that I missed nary a droplet. I went so far as to lick the very tip multiple times until Carlos at last begged me to stop.

    “Oh? I’m so very sorry my darling. I do hope I didn’t hurt you?” I whimpered so very girlishly.

    “No. No my Pet. It was nothing at all, really. You did wonderfully. I am completely drained, sated and satisfied. What time is it? Oh? Six AM? Is today Saturday or Sunday?” Carlos asked. 

    “It’s Sunday, darling,” I answered.

    Oh? That’s wonderful. They never wake me on Sunday,” Carlos sighed.

    “Should I leave for my boudoir, my love?” I asked

    “No. From last night on, you are mine and mine alone. Duenna will be moving on to a family in Cali I am told. During the weekdays you’re to be instructed by the Chef and the Head Housekeeper on the 

 Management of the Household. You’ll see,” Carlos explained.

    “On the weekends until the afternoon, my Sister Marisol will attend to you with Girl things, such as Spa Days, visiting our parents, and shopping at her favorite salon and boutiques. Whenever I want you with me, I’ll make certain to tell all of them. Now enjoy your new Freedoms and let’s sleep until noon,” Carlos laughed. 

    “We’ll have lunch together,” Daddy said as I snuggled into his Masculine chest. 

Chapter V: A Part of the Family

    I was waiting for Madre Duenna to exit the Main House. She would be driven by Limo to the airport for her flight to Cali, Colombia. The evening prior, she told me of her new “Charge.”

    “The boy, if he can be called as such, has just entered his teen years. Since he entered puberty, he has been a voracious flirt with the stable hands, his parent’s security personnel and nearly any good looking male in sight,” Madre Duenna shrugged. 

    “HIs parents are at a loss. They want me to prepare him for his Quinceanera, so that he may entire society as a girl,” my Duenna had explained. 

    As Duenna made her way to the limo, she was accompanied by the two Sissy maids that often assisted me with dressing and other things. As Duenna reached the location where I was standing she called out to the girls, “Lisette, Giselle? Places your belongings in the open trunk. Than be seated with your back to the front of the limo.”

    “Yes Madre. Goodbye Miss Priscilla,” both girls said alternately.

    “Oh? Are the maids going to accompany you to Cali for the time being?” I asked.

    “Yes, my child. Come to me. Hug me my Princess. Ah! You were an easy one to train. All the Maidens that have come to me from Bellefaire over the years seem to be some of the very best. You will be very happy here Priscilla,” Madre said as we kissed each other upon the lips to say our goodbyes.

    As the Limo pulled away, Donna Marisol seemed to appear out of nowhere. 

    “Priscilla. You need to get prettied up for our trip to the salon. I’m going to have you undergo a few procedures there today,” Marisol stated.

    “When will Lisette and Giselle return from Cali?” I asked.

    “They won’t be returning. I was offered a good price for them, so I sold them,” Marisol stated casually as if she were discussing the weather. 

    “You, sold them?” I asked. 

    “Yes. If you must clarify that Priscilla, I sold them. For what the people paid, I could purchase Five Sissy Maids from any of the Training Schools, and have them shipped to Bogota. You see, the family that Duenna will be living with, has visited here in the past and both the husband and wife enjoyed being waited on by Lisette and Giselle,” Marisol stated.

    “So the wife decided to purchase Lisette for herself. Then she bought Giselle to give to her Little Faggot Son. Off course your  Duenna will be turning the Fruity little boy, into a girl. Every Little Limp Wrist Fairy with a rich Mummy and Daddy needs a maid. Don’t you think so, Miss Priscilla?” Marisol smiled.

    “Yes, of course Ms. Marisol,” I agreed.

    “So get yourself ready within the next 30 minutes and then get your tight little ass into that Limo over there. I don’t really enjoy being kept waiting Priscilla,” Marisol hissed. 

    I was ready to go, with painted lips, eyes coated with mascara, and my cheeks blushed, along with a sprayed Updo, within twenty minutes. Marisol told the driver, “Mariana’s Casa de Belleza, Roberto.” 

    Two security men went along with us, in addition to the driver. I would later understand that the Bogota salons were used to this. Any salon in Bogota would welcome the business of Marisol Ortega and her mother, Lucia. On the drive to the salon, Marisol took a few calls on her cell. She was quite intense and each call sounded as if she might be conducting business. 

    I was absolutely thrilled to be going anywhere off of the estate property. Until now I’d been confined to the Hacienda. If I needed hairdressing services, the owners of Casa De Belleza sent a Cosmetologist. The Gynecologist also visited the Casa to examine me and prescribe my Estrogen. Being permitted to attend the salon with Marisol was quite nearly exciting. 

    At the salon, the driver opened the limo door for us, and the two security men entered the salon with us. One guard was in front of us and the other right behind. We were led into a private office area by the manageress, Isabella. Marisol and Isabella sat. I was instructed by Marisol to remain standing. 

    “Isabella, I want you to meet Priscilla. She’s the girl that my brother Carlos saw on-line in the Bellefaire Institute Catalogue. I purchased her outright at the most recent April auction,” Marisol announced.

    “She looks fabulous. They did an outstanding job with her. Hello Priscilla. Let me take a look at you, Kitten,” Isabella said.

    “I’m so pleased to meet you, Ms. Isabella,” I stated with a demure curtsey.

    “Oh how very cute and delightful. What a Princess you are. So prim and dainty. My goodness. A curtsey? That’s just simply precious,” gushed Isabella. 

    Ms. Isabella strode confidently towards me, her tall heels clicking on the tiled flooring. She stood directly in front of me at first, peering into my eyes and and then gently but self-assuredly holding my chin and lifting it slightly upwards. 

    ‘Yes. Oh yes. Very, very nicely done. The girls from Bellefaire are always so very delightfully turned out. The Silkwood Academy does quite well, and the work of the Winthrop Conservatory is truly special. There’s just something about a girl from Bellefaire. Don’t you think Marisol?” Isabella asked.

    “Indeed I do Isabella. It’s why I usually shop there. Their auctions can be pricey, but I’ve found some real bargains on the Maids they put up for sale. And I get to keep them, or sell them,” Marisol laughed.

    “Don’t you frequently have your Sissies Gelded, Marisol?” Isabella asked.

    “Any Sissies that end up employed in our household must be gelded. Sissies can be voracious Sluts. I have them all gelded to avoid any sexual liaisons between my employees. Now, any that I sell? Well, I leave that up to the buyers,” Marisol added.

    “What about our girl here? Priscilla? Is she a Castrate?” Isabella inquired.

    “No. She still has her teeny boy parts. But those are essentially useless and non-functional. I’ll leave that decision to Priscilla and Carlos. Unless of course I think that things are getting out of hand,” Marisol stated, causing me to cringe. 

    Isabella continued her inspection of me. She encircled me, looking keenly and questioningly through narrowed eyes. 

    As she fingered my tresses, she asked, “Hasn’t one of the Ladies from this salon been touching-up Priscilla’s color and keeping her ends trimmed?”

    “Yes. In fact, Maxine has been to the estate a few times. Carlos and I thought it best that Priscilla be confined to the grounds until she became assimilated and could speak our language better,” Marisol explained.

    “Of course. Which brings us to my next question. What do you have planned for her today?” Isabella quizzed. 

    “Well, I’d had a few piercings in mind. Especially having one of her nostrils done, where we could attach a chain from her nose to one of her ears, on occasion. Unfortunately Carlos decided that until our parents, especially our mother warmed to Priscilla, that the piercings were a no-no,” Marisol shrugged.

    “Oh? So. Are Mummy and Daddy aware that our little flower is essentially a Sissy-Boy?” Isabella asked.

    “Yes. Truthfully, my father is mostly okay with it. But until my mother comes around, Daddy will remain silent. Naturally Mother’s Catholicism gets in the way,” Marisol added rolling her eyes.

    “So, today I’d like to have some Lip Fillers added in order to plump up her Bouche,” Marisol said.

    “We can do that. In fact I’ll do it myself. It can be done easily in three visits. One today, the next one a month from now, and the last treatment another month after the second. She’ll have that pouty look of an experienced Cocksucker,” Isabella laughed as she traced one of her fingers around my lips. 

    As was the case with Marisol, her mother Lucia, and other “Important” ladies, escorted by security details, my hair, nails, face, and any other treatments would be done in a very “Private” area,  adjacent to Isabella’s office. Prior to injecting the Lip-Fillers, Isabella coated my lips with a numbing Gel. 

    As she injected the filler, Isabella chatted with Marisol. If I’d thought that Carlos might be involved in the drug trade or money laundering, I certainly wasn’t aware that Marisol regularly took part in the “Trafficking” of Emasculated Males, from the Sissy Training Schools in the US, to wealthy families and interested businesses in Colombia. 

    It appeared that Mariana Moreno, the Proprietor of  “Salon Casa de Belleza” employed several “Trafficked” Sissies at her three salons and two boutiques located in the Northern, more upscale areas of Bogota. On occasions, these “Girls” were “Rented” to female clients with “Discriminating” tastes, and taken to hotel rooms to perform “Special” services for these well-off Ladies.

    Once Isabella had completed my Lip-Plumping treatment, she took down my Updo, sprayed my hair heavily with a watery mist and then used a light amount of setting gel and some midsized hot rollers to put my hair up in a setting pattern. While my hair partially dried, she went over my makeup application, making it more striking and vivid.

    Finally she took my hair down, out of the hot rollers and deftly used a pick comb, her fingers and plenty of lacquer spray to give me a full, pouffy, “Bubble” Bob. On the drive back to the Hacienda, Marisol took a quick phone call, put her cell phone on “Vibrate” and began speaking to me in earnest.

    “We need to talk, Priscilla. In fact I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen. Unless of course I actually request your input. You just heard some things while at the salon that have to do somewhat about my business and the family. If you’re eventually going to be my Brother’s Bride, I might as well fill you in on how things are done around here. Or more precisely, how I do things. Understood? Good,” Marisol said. 

    “Yes. I personally take part in the trafficking of Emasculated Sissies and sell them to well-to-do families and certain businesses throughout our region of Colombia. What the families and the businesses do with the Sissies after the sale is their business. It’s true that a number of them are used in the sex-trade and as prostitutes of one kind or the other,” Marisol shrugged.

    “Our family also deals in Narcotics and Money Laundering. As we discussed earlier, as to your position in our family, my next move is to endear you to my parents, especially my mother. I have a plan for that to occur and you will follow that plan to the letter, if you know what’s good for you, Prissy,” Marisol smiled. 

    “Your lips look nice. I’m glad I thought of having those plumped. I’m certain the final product will be gorgeous. In any event, I want to warn you concerning my brother. I adore my older brother. And should you ever hurt him in any way, I will see to it that you will pay a price that I don’t think you are prepared to pay, Miss Prissy. Do we understand each other, Darling?” Marisol asked.

    “Yes, Donna Marisol. I would never dream of harming Carlos, ever,” I stated.

    “I sort of figured that. I just really enjoy scaring people,” Marisol laughed.

    “Now. Beginning today, the head housekeeper and the Chef, will begin training you to administer our household as Carlos’s future Bride. Part of that, is meal planning with the Chef. With our help, you’ll be putting together a dinner for my parents,” Marisol explained. 

    “The food selections will be some of their favorite dishes. You will also appear in clothing, hairstyle and makeup that presents you as a demure, obedient future Daughter-in-Law. I realize my brother prefers you as a slut, but that will not be the case around my parents, Priscilla,” Marisol remarked.

    “I think we are going to get along well Priscilla. You are a good listener,” Marisol said, as she looked away from me, and peered out the side window of the Limo. Essentially ignoring me for the remainder of the journey to the Hacienda. 

    From that point on, my days were spent “Shadowing” either the head housekeeper, Mariana or the Chef, Valeria, to learn the expertise of managing the servants and meal planning. I was expected to meet Carlos, every afternoon, when he returned to the Hacienda from the Family’s Bogota office.

    He and Marisol went to and from the office in separate vehicles at different times for purposes of security, as well as the fact that Marisol frequently worked later. I would meet Carlos in the parlor with a Scotch and Soda on the rocks. I’d ask him about his day. I’d remove his shoes and socks and get him a pair of sandals. 

    Then if he wanted me to, I’d massage his feet as I told him what we were having for dinner. The wonderful part of all this, is I didn’t have to lift a finger to cook, clean, set the table, or clear anything away. About all I did was some perfunctory serving of the food and drink. After the evening meal, Carlos would depart for his home office and await me to bring his coffee. There were times that Marisol would join him for coffee to discuss something.

    No matter what the case, once Carlos had exited the dining area, Marisol would inform me of what I should expect “Later on” in the evening.

    “Priscilla? My brother will require your presence in his Bed this evening. You are to make yourself very desirable for him and report there by 8 PM,” Marisol would instruct me.

    In the even that Carlos did not require my sexual services that evening, Marisol would simply say, “At bedtime you should set your hair and make certain to moisturize you face with Cold Cream, Priscilla.” 

    Approximately two weeks after my second “Lip Filler” treatment, Marisol instructed me to return to the Dining room after I served Carlos his after dinner coffee in his office.

    As I returned to the dining area, Marisol was seated at the table. She pointed to the chair across the table from her and motioned for me to sit. By then, I knew how any “Discussion” with Marisol unfolded. Marisol would speak, and I would remain silent and listen very carefully unless she gave me permission to verbalize. 

    “Two weeks from next Saturday, my parents will be here for dinner. Of course Valeria and her staff will prepare the foods. Mariana and her girls will set the table and bring out the servings. You will be here to look prim and pretty, greet and serve my parents, and make an excellent impression upon them, especially my mother,” Marisol stated.

    “Understand that I am putting this all together for my brother. He seeks the approval of our mother and father as to taking you as his bride. I’ll explain. During Carlos’s teen years, girls threw themselves at him. He had his pick of the Litter, so to speak,” Marisol stated.

   “Somewhere in his teens and early twenties, though he still dated females regularly, he frequented a number of Chic clubs where he developed an appetite for effeminate Sissy-Boys. It was then, that he believed that he discovered a difference between real girls and Sissies,” Marisol continued. 

    “He began to perceive that he was more keenly appreciated by his Sissy Girlfriends. The genetic girls, now thinking of marriage, and a life of leisure and luxury, began to withhold certain sexual favors. They expected luxurious gifts. After a sleepover at their place, there was no longer the ‘Good Morning’ wake-up blowjob,” Marisol laughed.

   “Carlos saw these women as gold-diggers. That wasn’t the case with the Sissy-Girls. They were excited with any trinket Carlos gave to them. They’d slurp his penis, and make him breakfast, lunch and dinner just to keep him happy. And they were totally hot, Girly-Girls at all times with their sexy attire, full makeup and exotically coiffed tresses,” Marisol explained. 

    “And he wasn’t the only male, among his peer group that felt the same way. Neither of my parents were thrilled with his choice in the way of sexual companionship, but still, they wanted him to be happy. Then he told me his fascination of a hot-looking Gringa Sissy-Girl. He loved blondes. The blonder the better,” Marisol went on. 

    “I made him aware of the auctions at the Sissy Schools. He loved that idea. He’d literally possess his bride. And she’d be a pale-skinned, Platinum Blonde, Sissy-Gringa from the US. I saw your Video presentation first and then showed it to him. He went wild. The day I boarded our private jet in Bogota, I promised him I’d spare no expense and that I’d return with you,” Marisol announced.

    “So, the day my parents come for dinner, I will be certain that you are attired, coiffed, and made-up as the perfect, obedient, future Daughter-in-Law for my mother Lucia and my father Salvador. I’ll have a cosmetologist come to the Hacienda to prepare you from the skin out. And you will behave as an Angel, Priscilla,” Marisol promised.

    “Now. You are excused to prepare yourself to please my brother in his bedroom, Priscilla,” Marisol added with a wave of her hand. 

    I prepared myself beautifully for my Master-Daddy. My still-damp, Pastel-Lilac tinted, Platinum-Blonde hair, just did, barely touch my shoulders. My brilliant, wet-look, Midnight-Merlot lipstick, shimmered. My cheeks were softly blushed in a Velvet Wine. My eyes were contoured with Sassy, Sienna shadow and pencil. I wore a midnight-blue fringe chemise with matching, sandal strap heels. 

    I tapped lightly upon Carlos’s slightly open bedroom door, and he quietly called me in. 

    “I’m here to serve you, my Master,” I announced. 

    He threw back the coverlet and bed sheet and patted the mattress. Smiling, I slid in next to him. As he covered me with the top sheet and coverlet, I snuggled myself against him.

    “I live for the evenings when you want me here with you, Daddy. If anyone had told me it could be like this, I would have begged to be feminized, long, long ago. This is so much easier and far more wonderful. I know my place. I know what is expected of me. There is no pressure for me to perform. I simply do whatever you desire of me, to please you,” I sighed.

    It was all so very, very true. My life as a male, and the life I now lived so very happily, were as different as darkness and daylight. Oh, the stress of being a male. How horrific that could be. Having to find the right job. Being sccuesful at school. All those emotionally straining familial expectations. 

    And the utter strain of dating. Having to look and act manly and appear to be sure of one’s self. And then having to perform sexually for the girlfriend or wife. 

    I now had to do none of that, or concern myself at all, with but, one thing. Now all I needed to do was look pretty. Yes, of course there will always be those Girly doubts about being “Too fat” or “Not pretty enough.” 

    However for the most part, all I needed to do to keep Carlos satisfied, was to look fantastic for him and keep him sexually sated. It really wasn’t that difficult at all. 

    I then reached for Carlos’s already hardening penis and squeezed it. It was so very large. My dainty, girlish hands could barely contain it’s monstrous girth. Then to think I’d already had that cock up inside of me upon several past occasions could occasionally be difficult for me to fathom. 

    Nevertheless, as it grew, I slithered underneath the bedsheets to lick the salty pre-cum from the very tip of that lovely penis. Then I  slowly inserted as much of that gorgeous cock as I could take, between my wet painted lips, and finally into my mouth. 

    As I sucked, I could feel one of Carlos’s hands upon my girlishly plump ass. And then I wiggled my butt, as he inserted two spittle-wetted fingers between my butt-cheeks. I knew what Carlos was now going for. He wanted a nice, lusty fucking. 

    I made his Prick, sopping wet and rock hard. Then I asked, in a very Prissy manner of speaking, “What would Daddy like Priscilla to do for him?” 

    “I want to sit up in bed, with you facing me. Then I want you to lower yourself down upon my erection, lock your pretty legs around me, and we can fuck into Nirvana,” Carlos answered me. 

    From the exercises they had us do at Bellefaire, which I still continued to do, my lithe body was supple, fluid and flexible. As Carlos positioned himself, I made myself ready. I made certain we were both very well lubed. Then I closed my eyes and did some very deep breathing, as my rectum swallowed Carlos’s entire cock between the cheeks of my rear end. 

    We began with a slow rhythmic pace. My face was pressed, cheek to cheek against Carlos’s. Then as our tempo picked up, I locked my mouth onto Carlos’s, and we began to suck each other’s tongues and lips as we screwed. Our passion had reached a place, where something or the other had to finally give way. 

    Uncharacteristically enough, my crescendo peaked initially, and I surrendered to the fervor with a hysterical shriek and an eerie howl. In  most cases, Carlos’s ejaculation would have spurred mine into occurring.

    I sensed that what little ejaculate I may have expelled, could have dribbled onto Carlos’s pubic hair? Shortly afterwards, Carlos let out with a mannish grunt. He held onto me tightly. It felt to me as if the head of his penis had popped in the way that the cork of a champagne bottle might have. 

    Our bodies shuddered in unison, as his testicles spewed out jets of warming sperm. That was the very first occasion that I had wished I’d been born a female and possessed the proper organs to conceive a child for Carlos. I then sat upon his cock until it deflated and  extracted itself from my anus. 

    I lingered in his lap as I kissed all over his face, neck and chest. Later, we would shower, and I’d find myself on my knees sucking him off as the warm water cascaded over us. Once again, Carlos climaxed and released a jettison of Cum into my greedy throat. 

    The true pleasure of sharing his bed, until the morning light came, was mine once again. My mind reverted to that moment, on the Private Jet, leaving the airfield, not so far from Bellefaire, as I looked into the cold, calculating,  unemotional eyes of Marisol. I could sense the vapor of isolation that surrounded me. That loneliness had now vanished. I was so very fulfilled as I watched Carlos’s manly chest expand and contract as he slept. I laid my head upon that chest and closed my eyes in peacefulness. He’d awaken me with a kiss when the time came. 

Chapter VI: Bride of Carlos

     The dinner with Madre Luisa Ortega and Carlos’s father Salvador, went perfectly, due to Marisol Ortega’s expertise and planning. Marisol had readied me in every way possible. She’d had Katerina, an expert makeover Cosmetologist, come to the Hacienda to prepare me. 

    Katerina, saw to it, in most every way, that my hair, makeup, jewelry and attire would be acceptable to Madre Luisa Ortega. All I would have to do was play the role of the Charming, Well-Behaved, future, Daughter-in-Law. 

    Initially, I thought my makeup application would be far, too bold, for Madre Luisa’s tastes. 

    “No Chica. I happen to be Luisa’s personal beautician. We talk all of the time. I am nearly her Psychiatrist. I know all of her likes and dislikes. I am aware of her tastes in clothing, hair, makeup and jewels. She is a very youthful, Fifty-Five years old. I know what she approves of and dislikes, in younger women, also,” Katerina laughed. 

    “You, my Angel, will look absolutely perfect to her, when I am done with you. I can promise you that much, my dear,” Katerina vowed. 

    When Katerina removed the Hot Rollers from my tresses, she allowed my platinum locks to fall to my shoulders. Then she brushed my hair back and tied it, with a large, white, satin, hair bow Barrette. The bow was quite obviously designed in a Ultra, “Schoolgirlish” Styling. 

    My dress was a pinkish, floral patterned, off-the-shoulder, V-Neck, wrap midi-dress with a flared hem.  My heels were three-inch pumps in a soft pink to match my Midi. My earrings and bracelets, were eye-catching, though tasteful and not gaudy. 

    However my makeup, though fastidiously applied, seemed far to “Bold” to me for this dinner with Carlos’s parents. Especially for his Madre Lucia. Peering at myself in my ornate vanity mirror, I fully conceded, that my for my foreseeable future, I would most certainly spend an inordinate measure of time, seeing to it that I was Extra-Fastidious, concerning my appearance. 

    In the case of my makeup. Katerina had been extra careful to pluck, wax, thin, arch and pencil in my eyebrows, with a very severe, high, thin arch. That gave my eyes, that wide-open, “Questioning” look of Girlish Puzzlement. 

    The remainder of my cosmetic application, though appearing “Dramatic,” was in keeping with Lucia Ortega’s standards. Of this fact, Katerina assured me. When the Senior Ortega’s arrived, Carlos’s father, Salvador was certainly far more lucid and affectionate towards  me.

    However, when Salvador and Lucia departed, it was Lucia who surprised me. She paused near the atrium doorway, and placed her beautifully manicured hands on either side of my face. 

    Then, smiling she said, “I have been watching you, my child. You, young lady, are an exceptionally feminine young girl. I want you to promise me that you will become the Extra-Girlish daughter that I never had. And one other thing, my dear. When you and my son are married, you will adopt both a girl and a boy to give me grandchildren.”

    “Si Madre. As to being your Girly Girl, you have my word. As to the children, I will inform Carlos of your wishes,” I added. 

    As I expected, it would be Marisol, that would plan the wedding down to the finest of details. It was to take place, of course, at the Ortega Estate in June. The “Engagement” between Carlos and me, would be announced three months prior. 

    One evening, In Carlos’s bedroom, as I knelt, to receive Carlos’s hardened penis between my lips, Carlos dangled a gorgeous Diamond before my blue eyes. I gasped, quite audibly. Marisol had prepared me for this moment and had instructed me in the exact wording of my acceptance of Carlos’s proposal.

    “So, my delightful Angel, will you become my bride?” Carlos asked. 

    “Oh yes my Master. And I will vow, from the very depths of my Heart and my Soul, to devote my life to your desires, your wants, your needs and your pleasures. I promise to be your Slave in every way possible. I am nothing without you, my Master Carlos,” I said, as I hung my head, and held my hand out, fingers spread, to receive the ring that would enslave me. 

    Never had I dreamt, that when and if I were married, that it would be to a man. Nor that I’d be on my knees, slavishly, accepting his proposal. However, through the proper mentoring I had received at Bellefaire, the entire scene, as it unfolded, appeared to me, to be perfectly natural, as well as normal. 

    Shortly after the ring was placed upon my finger, Carlos’s penis entered my mouth. And, what more perfect symbol of our official Marriage engagement could there be, then for me to be kneeling, slurping hungrily, upon Carlos’s massive erect cock? 

    I was certain, that as a manner of Celebration, Carlos would fill my mouth and throat with his manly seed. However as I sucked excitedly, he held my face and instructed me, “You may release my penis from your mouth, my Princess. Then stand and turn your back to me. I want you to lower yourself onto my hard cock, as I sit on the edge of the bed.”

    By this juncture in our relationship, though I still needed to take some manner of care, fitting Carlos’s large piece of “Man-Meat” into my rectum, had become somewhat easier. I lowered myself onto his cock, as his arms encircled my slender torso, and his hands squeezed my still, girlish breasts. 

    I had been fucked, frequently enough by Carlos, that I could sense the rhythm he preferred during our sexual trysts. That particular evening, I could feel that he wanted to screw me, slowly, with firm, aggressive thrusts. I adored being his Fuck-Doll, and I knew I would treasure that moment indefinitely. 

    As Carlos squeezed my somewhat modest tits, it entered my mind that I should be considering larger implants. I’d often thought of other changes to my body, such as the eventual removal of my testicles. After all, those tiny “Jewels” had entered the Nether-world of uselessness. I then forced myself into concentrating upon giving Carlos a memorable fucking. 

   As his pelvis thrusted to bury his cock well into my anus, I placed  my gorgeously manicured hands upon the mattress and used it as fulcrum to “push-off” and then lower my ass downward to match Carlos’s thrusting, stroke for stroke. As I lowered my ass, and prior to pushing upward, I would clench the cheeks of my rectum, to squeeze Carlos’s cock, ever so tightly.

    I wanted that moment to be very magical for both of us. I was becoming very passionate and unrestrained. I began to exhort Carlos, by gasping out, “Oh please my love, fuck me harder? Fuck your little bitch absolutely silly. Screw me until I swoon in helplessness? Oh please, I beg of you, my Master!” 

    I could not hold out much longer and I knew it. My teeny penis began to dribble. My nipples were hardened. My ass cheeks squeezed yet more desperately upon Carlos’s rock-hard cock. Then, my dribbling increased and I screeched, “Oh my, I’m coming. Oh yes, I’m coming!” 

    As the ejaculate dribbled between my thighs and onto the comforter, I felt the first jettison of semen exploding from Carlos’s dick. His cock expanded to its maximum girth in my asshole, to the point that I no longer needed to clasp it with the cheeks of my anus. The wonderfully warm sperm from my fiancé filled my rectal cavity. 

    As his penis ultimately contracted in my rear-end, I reached to the bedside lamp table and took a tampon from the box which I’d began to keep there. I carefully pushed the tampon up into my rectum to hold onto Carlos’s wonderful seed. Carlos now pulled me to the bed with him and we kissed like the lovers that we were. 

    The following morning, Carlos announced our engagement by telling Marisol face to face, and by calling his mother. Marisol smiled and congratulated us both with a hug. Lucia Ortega insisted on a party to celebrate our impending nuptials. Of course, Marisol would now take on the planning of the  wedding. 

    At the engagement party which took place at the home of Salvador and Lucia Ortega, Marisol very quietly asked her father for permission to use his home office very briefly. Then, she motioned to me, with her index finger, to follow her. I looked at Carlos and he nodded to me in the affirmative. 

    Marisol held the door to the office open for me and said, “Take the seat in front of my Father’s desk, Priscilla. I’ll close and lock the door to ensure us the utmost of privacy.”

    Once seated, Marisol began. “I have begun the planning of the June wedding. We’ll discuss your trousseau, hair, nails, makeup and attire later. For now we need to speak of some of the guests and other things such as your bridesmaids. You do recall, when I purchased you at auction, that I invited your Ex, Monet, her mother, Clarissa, and your step-mother, Jillian, to the wedding?”

    “Yes, I do recollect that,” I replied.

    “Good. Well, it now seems, my brother believes that you, as the bride, should have the first right of Veto power, as to that decision. As he is the family Don, I always defer to him in such matters. So, how do you feel about the presence of the aforementioned ladies at the wedding?” Marisol asked. 

    “I hold no grudges against Jillian, Monet or Clarissa. In fact, if it were not for them, I would never have known Carlos, or the wonderful life that I now enjoy today. Nor would I want you to be forced to go back on your word, Marisol. As long as they behave themselves they are more than welcome,” I agreed.

    “How very noble of you, Priscilla. Between Duenna Anna Maria, and Jillian, your step-mother, who would you prefer to give you away?” Marisol asked.

    “That really isn’t a close contest Marisol. Duenna, of course,” I said.

    “Would you want either Jillian or Monet as your Maid-of-Honor?” Marisol continued. 

    “Neither of them would possibly qualify for that. I’d prefer you as my Maid of Honor, my future Sister. Would you do that for me, Marisol?” I asked. 

    “Really? I am surprised. Very surprised, Priscilla. Of course I accept. With pleasure, actually,” Marisol added. 

    “My Ex, Monet, can be a bridesmaid if she would enjoy that,” I relented.

    “I’ll inform everyone concerned, Priscilla. And I thank you for the privilege of being in your wedding,” Marisol said.

    Marisol, once again planned everything perfectly. Except for my purposes, I wasn’t exactly in love with the styling of my wedding-gown and my high-heels. Apparently she wanted everyone to view me “Wiggling and Wriggling” to the altar, mincing along, taking tiny, babyish steps. Therefore, in the selection of my gown and footwear, she’d chosen a “Mermaid” style, “Fishtail” gown, and six-inch, stiletto heeled, ankle-strap, sandal-styled shoes. 

    Just as she’d done at the dinner for Lucia and Salvador, Katerina, along with my two, new maids, and her staff, would dress me, as well as do my hair, makeup and nails. My Ex-wife, Monet, along with her mother, Clarissa, and my Step-Mother, Jillian, had arrived a few evenings prior, and were staying in the guest house on the Ortega property. They had attended the rehearsals for the wedding, and were now being dressed and prettied in another area of the house. 

    When my stepmother was at last attired and coiffed, she asked to be able to take photos of me. My Ex-wife was also present in her bridesmaid’s gown. They both smiled as Step-Mummy Jillian snapped photos, and my Ex, Monet said, “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Priscilla.”

    “You do make a lovely bride, Priscilla. And I am certain Carlos will enjoy taking his pleasure with his Gay, Sissy Wife this evening, or whenever you at last reach your honeymoon destination. Jillian cannot wait to send these photos to your father. And I personally will relish showing these same pictures to all those whores who you fucked, when you cheated on me,” Monet smirked.

    Everything and everyone, was at long last, finally ready for the ceremony. Katerina posed me in the mirror as she and Duenna made final adjustments to my attire and coiffure. To calm myself I asked Duenna about the new “Girl” she was training for her new employers in Cali.

    “Oh my goodness Priscilla. Her name is Magdalena. She is such an El Afeminado and a La Mariquita. And she was even easier to train then you were, my darling girl. She is excited beyond belief concerning her Quinceanera. The boys will not be able to keep their hands off of her,” Duenna gushed.

    As I peered into the mirror, I looked myself over ever so very carefully. Not one hair was out of place. Katerina had so heavily Lacquered my swirled, fuchsia infused, platinum upsweep, that a Hurricane couldn’t possibly muss it. The heavily scented, makeup setting spray would see to it that my thick, cosmetic application would last, long into the evening. 

    The multiple coats of burgundy gloss shimmered upon my lips. I minced in a dream along the parquet flooring of the Ballroom, in the Ortega Mansion. I seemed to float along next to Carlos as Madre Duenna gave me away to him. The ceremony was a traditional Roman Catholic wedding. I clearly heard the Priest pronounce us “man and wife,” and give Carlos permission to kiss me. As Carlos enveloped me into his muscular arms, I released a calming breath from my bosom. 

    As his lips met mine, I knew that the kiss was only the beginning of a Mystical Journey, which would culminate with my full-fledged Femininity flourishing. My wifely responsibilities to Carlos, my daughterly commitment to his family, and the possibility of Motherhood were in front of me. 

    I knew that numerous photos of us were then being taken. I really  hoped that my father and my former female lovers would enjoy all of those. To finally be married to the man of my dreams was all that truly  mattered to me. 

Denouement 

    I had agreed to all of this. I’d told Lucia Ortega I’d become the Girlish daughter she’d never had, in her own offspring, the very business oriented Marisol. Truthfully, even when not fully dolled up, Marisol could be stunning. However Lucia enjoyed boutique shopping, having her hair and nails done, and believed that women should never wear slacks, and always wear high-heels. 

    The Mistresses of the Bellefaire Institute had convinced me to believe that Lucia’s enjoyments and opinions were truisms. So, at the very least, one Saturday of every month, Madre Lucia would have her driver and security team pick me up, and we would venture to the North end of Bogota, for shopping, lunch and the Beauty Parlor. 

    At lunch, we would eat as if we were baby birds, as we were always, “Watching our Waistlines” of course. At the boutiques, Lucia would surprise me, as she’d have me model sexy lingerie for her and the salesgirls, finally saying, “I believe my son would love to see her in that Nightie, don’t you ladies?” 

    I’d been thru a number of very feminizing moments in my journey towards total emasculation. Of course there were brassiere and other foundation garment fittings. To see myself in a mirror, with a salon cape over my shoulders, and bleaching creams and tin foil wrapped in my tresses, always managed to cause me to feel extra girlish.

    After Carlos and I were married, and we talked of having children, I decided to begin with the removal of my testicles. I simply never wanted our children to see “Mommy” with something dangling between her legs, no matter how small it was. At the same time, I had my boobs increased to 36C Cups.

    Marisol saw to it that my testes were chilled, taken to a jeweler and made into a set of beautiful, dangling, White-Onyx earrings. Prior to the adoption of our Boy and Girl twins, I took the step to finally have the surgery completed, so that I could then have, my very own Pussy. 

    We named our adopted twins, Esteban and Carmina. As of this writing they are Five Years old and a joy to us, their grandparents, their Aunt Marisol, and of course to my former Duenna, who is now their nanny. What did surprise me though, was the effect that having my first perm done, would actually have upon me. 

    During our usual visits to the salon, as I already may have written, Lucia and I would have mani/pedis done, along with facials, roller sets and stylings. I’d once mentioned to Lucia, what a chore I found it to be, to wash and set my hair every morning to look my very best for Carlos when he returned from the Family Business office.

    “Oh my lovely daughter. That is your duty to your husband as a Latina Wife. But why not have a perm or body wave put in, and you wouldn’t have to do a daily roller set?” Lucia recommended. 

    And so, on our next visit to Katerina’s salon I made an appointment for a Body Wave. I’d frequently heard, over the years, even at Bellefaire, about the “Feminine Right of Passage” that girls experienced, when getting their first Permanent wave with their mother. 

    And there I was, after a wash, condition and trim, having Katerina rolling my hair up, onto Body Wave rods. I was wearing the usual salon cape, with a towel tucked around my neck. Then once my hair was rolled onto the rods, Katerina wrapped my perm snugly with cotton gauze and began to apply the very smelly, highly odorous Waving Solution. 

    The overwhelming feeling of girlishness that came over me at that juncture was phenomenal. Even after all of the past feminizing moments that I’d experienced, in my new life as a girl. That mesmerizing sensation continued even more so as the Wave Rods tightened from the heat of the hair dryer, and the scent of the Perm Solution intensified. 

    After a rinse, the removal of the rods, expert hairstyling and a final, thorough application of spray net Lacquer, I truly felt as if I were a new woman. When we returned to where I lived with Carlos, my mother-in-law Lucia, decided to play with the children. Carlos was with his father at the Racetrack. 

    While Lucia and Duenna Anna Maria played with Esteban and Carmina, I decided to go to my boudoir and redo my makeup and play with my new hairstyle. Carlos and I kept separate bedrooms for privacy, as many wealthy couples do. Though, I almost always slept with him, in his room, in the interest of having sex. 

    On the way to my boudoir I crossed paths with Marisol who stopped me to look at my hair. “Very, very nicely done. My but didn’t Katerina outdo herself today? I love your new perm, Priscilla,” Marisol cooed.

    Very uncharacteristically Marisol was fingering my still damp tresses, and allowing her manicured fingertips to graze my swanlike neck. I never knew very much at all concerning Marisol’s personal life.  She never, ever mentioned anything about a boyfriend or girlfriend. So, here I stood, in her gorgeous presence. 

    Even without a touch of makeup, Marisol’s beauty was overwhelming. And with a full application of cosmetics her allure was awe-inspiring. I was frozen in my tracks as she played with my hair and touched my face. Nearly masked by her perfume was the slightest hint of marijuana. 

    Had she just smoked a joint? I had seen her drink alcohol infrequently, but never had I even slightly suspected she might imbibe in any sort of narcotic? It was possible though, that a small amount of weed, just might have lowered her inhibitions, loosened her tongue, and melted her frozen exterior.

    “Yes, you do look amazingly lovely right now. It’s such a shame though, that I wasted the chance of you being mine you know? No, instead, I showed your photos and videos to my older brother. I could have shown him any really pretty Sissy but I chose you. You of all the cute Sissies that Bellefaire had for sale,” she added.

    “Yes, you. The very prettiest and most flirty of the entire stable of Sissified Maidens. You could have been mine. But I bowed to my brother. I feared coming out as a Lesbian and a lover of both girls and Swishy Sissies as well. I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone what my brother had told our parents about himself. And because of my fears, I lost you to Carlos,” Marisol added bitterly, as she held me motionless by my shoulders.

    “If it makes any difference to you, Marisol. When I saw you in that green brocade dress, and discovered you had purchased me, I was overwhelmed with joy. All I could think of while looking at your fantastic head of thick brunette hair, was that I could be your maid and lady’s companion, and one day I’d brush your hair at bedtime,” I admitted, choking up slightly.

    She stared at me in complete silence. Then she asked, “Seriously? Is that really true Priscilla?” 

    “Yes. Of course it is true. I was terribly disappointed when I was told that you were a purchasing agent for your brother. I didn’t want to be sold to a man. I was heartbroken. You were so fabulously lovely, you were a dream come true for me. Even if I had just been sold like a slave,” I admitted.

    “Priscilla, let’s go into your boudoir. I want to kiss you. There now. The door is locked. So, kiss me Priscilla, now. Kiss me. I want to feel your tongue and taste you wet lipstick, girl,” Marisol ordered me.

    We kissed, Our mouths suctioned together, and our tongues entangled. And the taste of another Lady’s lipstick mingled with mine, just as I had recalled when I kissed Madame Petra at Bellefaire. Marisol and I kissed and my head spun. 

    I was kissing her in the same house where I lived with her brother, my husband. Her mother was in the living room with our two children as we explored each other’s  bodies with our fingertips. We then ended the kiss, but still held onto each other’s bodies. 

    “So tell me Priscilla. How does my brother enjoy your new pussy? You know that very same pussy could have belonged to me? I could be the one licking that pussy, or pegging it with a strap-on dildo right this very instant. That hurts Priscilla. That truly makes me ache, you know?” Marisol went on, totally out of character for her. 

    “It must hurt Marisol, or I don’t think you’d ever be telling me this. I don’t know what I could do about it? I’m married to Carlos. Once again, I will admit, at the time we met, I would have done anything for it to be you that I was going home with,” I explained. 

    “Yes. You told me that. How I wish I could have explained things to my parents. I wish I could have just admitted to them that I wanted a girlfriend to live with me, or have a Prissy Sissy I could dominate. Priscilla? Please tell me this? Until that time when I can come out to my mother and father, could we have an occasional tryst here at the Hacienda?” Marisol asked.

    “Only of course when Carlos is out of town on business. Late at night, once Duenna has put the children to bed. My boudoir is at the opposite end of the Mansion from the children and Duenna’s rooms. Please Priscilla?” Marisol asked, so very desperately it surprised me.

    For how long had she harbored these desires? She had shown no sign whatsoever in the past. Why now and so very suddenly?

    “Marisol, I can only say, that you are, with certainty, the most voluptuous, amazingly attractive female I have ever known. And the very temptation to taste of your delights is beyond my wildest imagination. However, at this very instant, so very, very much, is roiling throughout  my consciousness. So much so, that I couldn’t possibly make a decision at this point in time,” I said. 

    “I understand, Priscilla. But, will you still think it over, and we can discuss it further at a later date?” Marisol asked.

    That was vintage Marisol. Ever the Businesswoman. She made it appear as if it were the sale of a classic car, or a prized racehorse that we were speaking of. I nodded in agreement with her proposal. 

    She then left my boudoir. Marisol continued down the hall to the living room. Most likely to speak with her mother and play with the children. I left the door open and began to play with my hair and makeup. How could this have ever happened? 

    And I’d really kissed her and obviously enjoyed it, very, very much.  And never once had I said “No” to her proposition concerning further encounters. This really couldn’t be happening, could it? And there clearly wasn’t ever going to be an opportune time, was there? 

 The End?  

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