By Priscilla Bouffant(A Cassandra Romance Vignette of Emasculation, domination, obedience and discipline.)
I wasn’t exactly thrilled when my daughter, Shayla, informed me that her boyfriend, Peter, was not only a philandering cheat but a sissy crossdresser. However, as any Cassandra Sister would tell you, we make the very most of any situation in order to make it advantageous to ourselves.
Chapter I: In a Timely Manner
Pitiful Prissy Peter, my daughter’s ex-boyfriend knelt before me, denuded of his body hair and smelling like a bridal bouquet. He hung his head in abject subservience. Thrown out on the street by my daughter Shayla, for the transgressions of cheating on her and wearing her clothes when she was at work.
I never cared for Peter. Oh he was nice looking in a pretty sort of way. Average height at 5 feet ten inches and splendidly slender. He was also intelligent, however he had no ambition. After college when Shayla was getting her Masters he did get a job but failed to impress or advance.
Once Shayla got her Masters her career skyrocketed and she realized she was better off with him at home, where he cooked, cleaned and acted the part of a male Haus Frau. She fell out of love, when she found out he had cheated on her with her girlfriend, Daphne, who was their Hairdresser.
Then when she came home a day early from a business trip and caught him in a pair of her Capri slacks, a tube top, full makeup and heels they went into counseling. But after she met the real man of her dreams at work, she told him he needed to live elsewhere.
With no job, very little money and no prospects for employment he readily agreed to keep house for me. It was during his second weekend as my housekeeper that I laid down the law. “You like to dress in ladies’ clothing, don’t you sissy? Oh? You don’t think Shayla told me? Well, if you want to stay here you’ll dress as my maid and lady’s companion 24/7,” I said.
The sissy tearfully agreed. I’m certain he must have thought it would be fun and erotic for a time. It might have been if I had any sexual interest in the sissy, outside of sitting on his face. So as he knelt at my feet, his hairless skin glistening, his thick, medium brown shampooed locks piled on top of his head, his body smelling like a bubble bath full of fragrant oils, I leered down upon him.
I couldn’t wait to put dangling hoops where his two pearl studs now rested in his ear lobes. I considered adding two or more piercings to his ears plus other locations on his now hairless and scented body. For the time being I needed to establish my peerage over him.
Sissies must understand that being a maid and servant is serious business. “Look at me now Sissy Peter and view your Master. That’s right. From now on you are my sissified servant and I am your Master. I’ve disposed of the clothing you brought here. It has been placed into the trunk of my Mercedes, for later delivery to charity.” I added. I let that sink in.
“From here on, you’ll dress in the clothing of an androgynous sissy or a female. You’ll wear makeup, jewelry and perfume. Your hair will be cut, colored, set or permed. You’ll be injected with female hormones and possibly even neutered. What do you think of that Sissy Peter?” I asked.
“You’d castrate me Madam? Please, not that?” Peter simpered, tears forming in his misting eyes. My right hand shot out and slapped his face. His lips pursed and he further whimpered. I watched the tears of shame flow.
“Don’t ever question me, my Prissy Peter. In fact, why do I continue to call you Peter? You are not a male. You have never been even remotely a male person. You are an imposter. You are now Prissy Priscilla. Say it. Tell me your new name, you swish. Tell me you are a sissy girl. Now Priscilla. Swear your loyalty and fidelity to me as I am your Liege, and your Master Vivian!” I spat.
“I am Prissy Priscilla, the Sissy Girl and I belong to my Master Vivian,” the little puss simpered, tears now flowing more freely. The tears I assumed, from the look on her face, were more from intense fear, humiliation and trepidation than from the sheer happiness of her current plight.
“Very well Priscilla. I’ll take you at your word. However if you are ever disobedient, betray me or lie to me as you did to my Shayla, you’ll regret ever knowing me. I can assure you of that, my girly. Now, I will show you to your room and teach you to groom yourself for bedtime,” I said.
“Crawl behind me. You may not rise to your feet until you are shod in high heels and wearing femme attire. Once you are properly groomed, you may prepare a meal for me and we’ll discuss your daily duties as well as my expectations for you,” I smiled.
Priscilla was certainly thrilled to put on her new, tight, white, panty brief, along with a sassy yellow bed-robe as well as some pink Marabou slippers. The room I’d prepared for her was fluffy, fussy, pastel and feminine, in keeping with the new persona I’d planned for her.
“Aversion, therapy,” said Cynthia, a psychiatrist associate of mine, and member of the Cassandra Sisterhood, as she described our planned treatment of Priscilla.
“She’ll either eventually be repulsed by her ever-increasing effeminacy and reject it, or she’ll totally immerse herself into being a very, bubbly, girly-girl. Should she reject her overtly, enforced, femininity she is liable to beg you to release her from her girlish life,” explained Cynthia.
“In that case, though she may attempt to live as a male, she’ll still very likely become a very effeminate homosexual that is terribly dependent on her Dominant “Butch” or her Big, Strong “Daddy.” Should she embrace being a girl she’ll likely make a wonderfully subservient lady’s companion and housekeeper,” Cynthia further explained.
I showed Priscilla about her new girly boudoir. The closet was first. “I plan on getting you uniforms for when you are working. That includes the grocery shopping you’ll eventually do. There will also be outfits for serving my guests. I’ll additionally expect you to look very appealing when you accompany me in public,” I said.
“There will also be clothing I’ll expect you to wear when you are off duty. Right now I’ve placed some attire of mine here, including shoes, which I no longer wear. It should fit you well enough for the time being,” I added.
“In your bathroom I’ve placed your products for bathing, skin and hair care. On your vanity are pots and jars for making your face and hair pretty. Your big screen TV is not connected to the outside world. You no longer need to know anything about news, sports or television programming,” I explained.
“You’ll only be permitted to watch the Blu-Ray DVD player. There are videos on makeup and hair care. More videos on cooking and cleaning. Yet more that will teach you comportment, elocution, mannerisms, proper conduct, high-heeling walking, skirt management and etiquette,” I further explained.
“There are also some movies of fashion shows, along with various sexual services you’ll be expected to perform. Pay special attention attention to the videos on personal services. You’ll be bathing me as well as doing my hair and nails, along with your own,” I ordered.
“And now, after a lesson on skin care and setting your hair, I’ll expect you to prepare us some light evening fare as well as cleaning up the mess afterwards,” I said as I propelled my new maid to her vanity.
I showed her how to cleanse her face, then put on face cream for the night. After several tries with a lip wand and tube of lipstick she made a satisfactory attempt to paint her lips. Next came a tutorial on setting her own hair for bedtime or for an afternoon or evening out.
I knew my daughter Shayla had begun instructing the sissy on setting and styling my daughter’s hair. So she was somewhat familiar with the use of rollers and setting gel. I had her finger the setting gel into her hair before I began to teach her to tightly wrap the sectioned strands of hair around the curlers.
“And when you finally do it yourself, Priscilla, you had better get the rollers just as tight as I have them now. If I check them and they are loose I will redden your ass with a strop, paddle or even a cane. You will regret the errors of your ways then. Do you understand me Prissy?” I growled.
“Oh yes, Madame Vivian. Priscilla understands,” the sissy gushed.
“Well you had better. And when you are serving any guests I might have, I want you using my last name. I’ll be Madame Pendergast in those instances. I also enjoy that you spoke of yourself in the 3rd person. Keep that up. There, now. You try putting in a few curlers,” I insisted.
“Yes, Madame Pendergast. Priscilla will enjoy learning to curl her own hair,” the sissy faggot simpered.
At last I checked all the rollers and found two I had to tighten. As I tightened them, telling Priscilla, “Look at what you did, you stupid bitch. Not one but two rollers loose!” Priscilla trembled. I decided to be lenient, and told her, “Close your eyes while I slap your face.”
I slapped her with a strong forehand and then backhanded her quite swiftly, bringing a steam of tears to her eyes. Her trembling, already sissified body trembled as she sobbed. When her sobbing subsided, I wiped her eyes in a motherly fashion, and pulled her to her feet. Then I wrapped a scarf around her curlers after applying a liberal does of scented spray net.
I mince-marched her into the kitchen and showed her where various utensils and victuals were located. Then I had her put a frilly apron on over her sexy bed robe and instructed her on setting my table and preparing a dinner of chicken breast, mixed vegetables and tossed salad.
I sipped a glass of white wine while I watched her fuss and mince about the kitchen. When my meal was prepared I had her serve me in the dining room. I then allowed her to eat in the kitchen, but kept her on her toes, sashaying back and forth, serving me wine and dessert while she attempted to eat. I had her serve me a Scotch and soda in the living room while she cleaned the kitchen and dining area.
Once I inspected the dining area I checked my watch and informed her that this evening her bedtime would be at the childish and babyish hour of 8 PM. “I want you up by 5:30 AM as I expect breakfast in bed by 7:30 AM. It is Saturday and I want to be out the door by 9 AM. We have a lot to do in the way of clothes shopping for you, Priscilla,” I said.
Prior to putting her to bed, I dressed her in a pink, ruffled, satin, mock, baby dress, and had her kneel in front of her full-length mirror in her boudoir. She would be sleeping with her hair set tightly in brush curlers. The mass of curlers were covered in a pink, hairdo bonnet. Her face was covered with scented, Collagen infused face cream.
I then made the frilly, girly sissy, bow her head, remorsefully, and I made her read a bed time prayer to the Goddess Aphrodite. The prayer was entitled, “A Sissy’s Entreaty to the Goddess of Love.”
“Please dearest Goddess Aphrodite. Forgive your Sissy Priscilla, for pretending to be a male person all these years. Thank you so much for putting Matron Vivian Pendergast in my life to correct nature’s obvious mistake. I implore you and the Cassandra Sisterhood, to cleanse me of my boyish ineptitude, and lead me to a happier, more wholesome, feminine life. I desire to give my life to you and the Sisterhood, in full-blooming femininity,” the effeminate Priscilla practically lisped.
“Very well. You shall read that in the morning when you awaken and at bedtime. You shall always kneel in front of the mirror. You will not masturbate ever and you will urinate only while sitting. I have security cameras throughout the house and grounds. They are always on and motion activated,” I explained.
“If I ever see you praying without kneeling, masturbating or peeing while standing, I’ll drag you by your hair into my Gynecologists’ office. There, I’ll have her remove your testicles under a local anesthesia, while you witness your own castration,” I hissed as the sissy climbed meekly underneath her covers.
She looked stunned and overwhelmed by my adamance. This was a good sign. I made her sit up and handed her a Valium and my glass of Scotch and soda on the rocks.
“Wash this Valium down with this Scotch, Priscilla. You’ll sleep better. There. Now have nice sissy dreams sweetie. Mommy is always here if you need her,” I added as I actually gave her a motherly kiss on the forehead before I left her in her frilly, fussy, sissified, four-poster canopied bed.
Chapter II: In a Manner of Fashion
But of course, to the hairdressers, dress shop owners, my GYN and any other Cassandra Sister, Priscilla was my new found sissy maid in training and had once, just happened to be my daughter’s errant boyfriend.
“Boutique La Swish” was owned by one of my dearest “Sisters” Lana Bourgeois. In Lana’s own words she provided, “Fancy, frilly and fussy fashions for the very discriminating set.”
Many women shopped at “La Swish” for just the right dress or gown for their daughters’ proms, coming out parties, weddings, nights at the opera or simply that “special” date. Of course, Lana and her girls provided private fittings and fitting rooms for Cassandra Sisters such as I and sissies just like Priscilla.
“Vivian darling, how nice to see you. Is this your new girl you told me about. You’re right. She’ll need a lot of work,” smiled Lana.
“Yes Lana. This is my ‘niece’ Prissy. Yes. She’s a work in progress. I’d like to start with serving uniforms, move to everyday housewife attire, sleepwear and then clothing for outings,” I laughed.
I had Prissy put her hair in an upsweep for the day. She had on Capri slacks, anklet socks and heels with a peasant blouse and padded training brassiere. Her makeup was full and tasteful. Standing in two-inch heels Priscilla was a willowy but “underdeveloped” and nearly flat-chested, six feet even. She weighed around 140 pounds but I fully intended to slim her down to a very kittenish and sylph-like 125 pounds.
Both my daughter Shayla and I were six feet tall and weighed a nearly Amazonian 155 pounds. We were both well-proportioned and very athletic. Either of us would have no trouble handling and disciplining a Puss like Priscilla.
“Why don’t we get Prissy into a private dressing room and put her up on a lacing pedestal, Vivian? Are you going to have the time to corset her each morning and train her during the day?” Lana asked.
“I don’t ever intend to corset her each day. As for daily training, I’m taking a couple of weeks off from the office. My darling daughter, Shayla has really stepped up as an Executive Vice-President for the family business. Her late father would be so very proud. Additionally, I’ve hired a new Office Manager, Eduardo, who has been an amazing help to everyone concerned,” I said.
“Eduardo? Sounds yummy. Tall, dark and Latin, I presume?” Lana said with a sexy purr.
“As a matter of fact, yes, yes, and yes again. I’m impressed and Shayla is as well. He might just be moving in with her very soon. He’s yummy, all right. A real hunk of man-meat,” I growled, hoping this knowledge would torture Prissy’s psyche.
Lana opened the door to the private dressing room and I slapped Priscilla on the butt. “Get in there you little bitch-slut and take off those Capris and that blouse. Then stand on the lacing pedestal so we can get you fastened off,” I spat.
Priscilla made quick work of undressing. Once she was on the lacing pedestal Lana and I fastened her wrists to the lacing bar with shackles. Prissy began to whimper and I threatened her with a penis gag to shut her up. Lana looked around the room.
“Carlotta should be here soon. She’ll be bringing some lubricant and a size four rectal trainer. We may as well get Priscilla started on an anus plug to add a very sultry wiggle to her walk,” laughed Lana.
“Not to mention it will be easier for her man to screw her once we find her a boyfriend to care for her,” I chimed in.
“Oh please no, Madame Pendergast? I’ll be a good girl. I promise,” begged Prissy.
“You want to be a good girl, Prissy? Then just shut up, before we wack your ass and shove a plastic penis in your mouth so you can practice some cock-sucking,” I said.
Once Carlotta arrived we pulled down Prissy’s panty brief and Carlotta slid two lubricated, gloved fingers into the wiggling Priscilla’s rectum. As Carlotta rotated the plug to insert it deeper into Prissy’s anus, Lana spoke up.
“Priscilla, relax and listen to me. You’re making the insertion of this plug much more difficult and discomforting, then it really has to be. Now, my dear sissy, take nice deep breaths and inhale and exhale strongly. That’s it darling girl, there we go!” Lana smiled as Priscilla gasped and Carlotta nodded as the rectal plug slid all the way in.
We soon had Prissy’s already slim waist cinched in another 2 and a half inches, down to a very nice and svelte Twenty-six inches. Lana and Carlotta took careful measurements and Priscilla began to try on various outfits. We had her model each for us, instructing her on proper movements and gestures.
When I was satisfied with how things were fitting, I placed an order with Lana, to be delivered. We also took several items of femme attire with us. On the way home I realized my GYN was open every other Saturday, so I phoned her office.
“Hello, Darlene? Yes, this is Vivian Pendergast. I was discussing my niece with Doctor Glynis Colter. Yes darling. My niece Priscilla. Yes, that’s the one. Well, she’s now living with me and will be for some time so I’d like to bring her in ASAP, possibly this Friday afternoon, if I could?” I asked.
“Wonderful Darlene. Yes, that’s Priscilla Collette Pendergast. She’s 25. Excellent. Doctor Colter at 1 PM. Fabulous darling. Chou!” I said as I smiled.
There are many uncomfortable stages, for a sissy, during their forcible feminization. Normally their first fitting for a real brassiere can be quite a strain. By then again, though, the Estrogen should be making them more compliant by that time. Of course, their initial sexual escapade with a male can be very disconcerting.
A really long makeover at a salon, complete with perm and waxing is normally troubling. However, I don’t imagine anything can quite compare with the indignity of being strapped down and placed in stirrups in a Gynecologist’s office to convince a sissy she isn’t turning back from her feminization anytime soon.
So, the following Friday, I had Prissy in a white blouse with a pink, floral print and a lace appliqué at the buttons, collar and cuffs. Her tan skirt came to her knees. She wore opaque hose and a pair of tan, one-inch kitten heel shoes. I’d padded her chest out with adhesive attached falsies. Her hair was up on top of her head in a tasseled pony-tail.
She wore rich, French perfume and her makeup was flawless. Her lipstick was a vivid, coral pink. She been practicing keeping her voice soft and subtle but once we were in the GYN office she remained absolutely silent. It was easy for me to see how uncomfortable she was. It was widely known that Doctor Colter and her partner Doctor Janine Tabor had several transgendered patients, so if by chance Priscilla was “outed” no one would really cause any sort of stir.
I could see some mild relief cross Prissy’s face when the nurse called out, “Ms. Pendergast and Priscilla. Come this way ladies. I’m nurse Jocelyn and I work with Doctor Janine Tabor. She’ll be seeing Priscilla Collette today. Such a pretty, girly name. Doctor Colter had an emergency patient so Doctor Tabor agreed to take Priscilla in a vacant time slot she had,” Nurse Jocelyn explained.
“I do hope that is okay with everyone?” Jocelyn asked.
“Of course it is Jocelyn. I’ve known Janine for years,” I smiled.
When we arrived in the exam room Jocelyn smiled at Priscilla.
“Priscilla honey, there is no need to be nervous. We know all about you. We have numerous, special girls just like you come in here quite frequently. There is the change room. Remove your stockings, shoes, skirt and blouse. You can leave your underthings on. Put on the robe for us and those slippers,” the nurse explained.
When Priscilla nervously returned, Nurse Jocelyn helped her up onto the exam table. It was laughable watching a sissy like Priscilla undergoing such clumsy anxiety while participating in her own feminizing process. Jocelyn gave her a glass of water and a Valium to take. Then she tightly fastened Priscilla’s slim ankles into the stirrups.
Next she had Priscilla raise her arms over her head. I assisted Jocelyn as we secured Priscilla’s wrists into bindings behind and above her which we snugged up with pulleys. Prissy was nearly frantic. Jocelyn readied a syringe loaded with a sedative.
“Is all this really necessary? I feel like I’m in bondage with all these restraints you’re using,” Prissy gasped.
“Well we need you to lay very still during the exam honey and we need you to be very quiet. We can’t disturb patients in the waiting room or the other exam rooms. If that Valium didn’t calm you, I’ll have to sedate you. Little pinch in the butt honey. There, that should mellow you out,” added the smiling Jocelyn just as Janine entered the room.
“Good afternoon Grand Matron Pendergast. And who do we have here? Priscilla? Hello Priscilla, I am Doctor Janine Tabor. Oh my, someone’s eyes look very glazed over. Was our new girl being a tad feisty and needed a little medication?” Janine asked, smiling.
“Yes, and she’s had a Val, also. I gave her a half a milliliter of Demerol. She should come around in a bit. Prissy, Doctor Tabor is here,” said the nurse.
“Hello Doctor,” babbled Priscilla, slurring her words, nearly incoherently.
“Well we can start the exam then. Open her robe, nurse. So, she really has no breasts at all? Am I correct? Well we’ll have to help her grow some tits and also round out her hips. Jocelyn, give her a max booster of Estrogen under each arm near each breast and one into into each hip. Is she being allowed to keep her testes for now, Vivian?” Janine asked me as I nodded assent.
“Well, then the max booster will be the correct dosage. Now, I’ll also give her a scrip for Estrogen tabs as well as Estrogen creams and lotions. Get her back in here in a month for another booster and a milking. We’ll watch her sperm and Testosterone count. I think she’s coming around to her senses,” said Doctor Janine.
“Well hello darling Priscilla. You drifted off there,” smiled the doctor.
“I guess I did. I feel as if someone pinched my butt Doctor. Are you Doctor Tabor?” Prissy asked.
“Yes dear. We gave you some vitamin and protein injections, Priscilla. Plus, I’m going to check your sperm count. You don’t mind if I masturbate you, do you Prissy?” Doctor Janine asked.
Priscilla looked surprised as nurse Jocelyn pulled down her panty brief and alcohol swabbed her penis. When I looked at Priscilla’s cock I couldn’t imagine how my daughter could have possibly put up with such a small penis during sex?
Of course once the female hormones kicked in Priscilla’s cock and balls would be getting even more tiny and useless. As Priscilla didn’t answer the doctor immediately, Doctor Janine put a small amount of hormone cream on her fingers and began massaging Prissy’s small cock. Priscilla gasped and her eyes appeared to roll back into her head.
Prissy relaxed and closed her eyes, breathing calmly at first. The doctor looked up at me and her nurse, saying, “Well, I guess that means yes, I can masturbate you, Priscilla? I don’t think it will take too, terribly long as your penis is already hardening.”
Even fully erect Priscilla didn’t have much of a cock. When I’d look at and think of a sissy like Priscilla, and see her pretty features, her thick long tresses, her slim figure and her small cock, I wondered if nature didn’t truly intend for her to be a girl and at the last minute there wasn’t some sort of mixup?
That is why I didn’t have any problem with feminizing Priscilla. I felt I was doing her and everyone else a favor bringing her into a feminine life. When I see her today, in her glorious, full, feminine bloom, I feel totally vindicated as well as justified in my decision making.
I just knew that one day Priscilla would become a lovely and contented homemaker. I’m actually very proud of this girl, these days. It is amazing, as when she was masquerading as a male person I held her in such vile contempt.
As the smiling Doctor Tabor milked Priscilla’s penis and ball sac it was easy to tell that Prissy was becoming dramatically aroused. Her rate of breathing increased and she panted quite liberally. Her back arched and her body attempted to rise from the exam table. Soon she was gasping and creating such a fuss it appeared as if she was about to give birth to twins.
I glanced at the alarmed nurse, Jocelyn who was holding a test tube at the ready. It was all we could do to keep from laughing at Priscilla’s hysteria over an impending orgasm. Even for a sissy her histrionics appeared overly theatrical.
In any event once she did orgasm and spurted her sissy juices, she cooed like a darling little dove. The combined effect of the Valium, the injected sedative, the estrogen coursing thru her bloodstream and the masturbatory climax was quite startling where Priscilla was concerned. Doctor Janine had to continue the exam with Priscilla still tightly strapped in her restraints.
For, Priscilla would have been unable to stand or sit up. Her head was lolling around from side to side. Her deep brown eyes were glazed. Her pupils were dilated and she prattled on quite unintelligibly. Prissy was a totally sissified mess. It would have been nearly embarrassing but both Janine and Jocelyn agreed it was fairly par for the course with a sissy in early feminization.
On the drive back to my family estate, after we’d stopped at the pharmacy, I instructed Priscilla she should take a long nap. I wasn’t about to have her staggering around my kitchen in stilted high heels breaking treasured crockery or family heirlooms.
The following morning, prior to our trip to the salon, I could easily see that Prissy was again apprehensive and anxious about the impending spa visit. I needed to calm her as I didn’t want any sort of embarrassing situation on my hands.
As amusing as it can be to view a sissy experiencing discomfort with her impending, thorough feminization, I ultimately wanted Priscilla to eventually portray some degree of the primness and elegance I expected from a well-trained lady’s companion as well as an exquisitely schooled feminine servant. I pointed to a seat across from me at the dining room table.
“Priscilla darling, we need to discuss some things. Sit! That’s better. Now, young lady, listen to me and hear me out fully. It’s obvious you are agonizing over this salon visit. You have no need to be apprehensive. The ladies that will perform your beautification treatments are fully aware that you are a sissified boy undergoing full transformation,” I stated.
“Just as the staff and many of the clients at the GYN office, these women are well-versed in special, pseudo-females such as you. So relax. Now I’ll assist you with some mood-altering meds, but I daresay I do not want you becoming some sort of Valium junkie. Do you follow me Priscilla?” I asked firmly.
“Yes Madame Pendergast. I agree I have been over-reacting. This is all so new to me. Dressing, acting and appearing to be a female full-time is so much more challenging that I originally realized. I’ll try my best today, though I would appreciate one more tiny pill to help me along,” Priscilla simpered.
“Very well. But let’s not make a habit of this Priscilla. Mark my words, you’ll be a big girl very soon and along with me you will find that all of this apprehension and potential recalcitrance is very silly at best. Now my lovely sissy, here is your Valium. Come, let us prepare for our salon and spa venture,” I added.
Arriving at the salon Priscilla and I were whisked into a very private chamber by the owner herself, none other than Vera Sanderson. There in the very secluded privacy of our own personal beauty room, Vera and I went over the full scope of the treatments Priscilla and I would be getting.
As Vera’s sissy Admin, Kimberly, took thorough notes, I described in detail the cut, stylization color and highlighting I wanted for Pricilla’s hair. Vera nodded in the affirmative as she walked over and began feeling the ends of Priscilla’s below-the-shoulder length hair.
“Her locks have a gorgeous texture, Vivian. The length and styling you’ve chosen for her will be perfect for a stacked, bubble perm at a later date. It will give her that early to mid 1960’s housewife appeal that you and so many of our younger sisters are trying to emulate with their sissies,” Vera smiled.
Of course as I was attempting to accelerate her feminization Priscilla would be going thru a much more extensive regimen at the salon than I would need for one day. That would include a complete and very fastidious full, body waxing. I wanted Priscilla to realize what an effort beautiful females like my daughter went thru to be sexy and appealing to their significant other.
That for Priscilla, as Peter, to fail so miserably to satisfy my daughter sexually, was an insult to the efforts Shayla made to prettify herself. I believe today Priscilla knows how deficient she was as Peter, and that I did her a favor by completely emasculating her.
As Priscilla and I relaxed in our panties Vera gave my body a cleansing, while Alicia began Priscilla’s body wax. It was music to my ears to hear Priscilla’s dainty feminine squeals and gasps as Alicia zipped off Prissy’s body hair right down to the follicles.
When the ladies began our massages Prissy relaxed but not for long, apparently. “Someone is getting excited. Madame, may I?” Alicia asked. Meaning of course that Priscilla had an erection and Alicia believed masturbation was in order.
“Of course Alicia. You have my permission. Milk her off please. We can’t have unsightly boners in such a precious ladies’ place as a salon and spa, now can we?” I stated.
We were all then treated to the sounds of Priscilla’s girlish mewling as Alicia used Estrogen lotion to manipulate Priscilla’s soon-to-be shrunken cock. Priscilla’s mewling soon became breathless gushing as Alicia quickly brought the sissy to a massive, drooling climax.
Things calmed down as Priscilla and I were given manicures and pedicures. I had Prissy’s fingers and toes done in a striking violet shade with elongated, frosted-white French-tipped fingernails. After an inspection by Vera we were both assisted in dressing.
I’d had Prissy wear a beige suit and skirt set, sheer hose, with matching heels and a white blouse with Peter Pan collar. Her underthings were lemon yellow. Her once-pierced ears now sported crystal fobs. I gave Alicia the go-ahead to add two piercing holes to each ear and she inserted pearl studs.
Now Priscilla and I were given shampoos and protein pack conditionings. Once we were rinsed we sat side by side at salon stations with wrap-around vanity mirrors. The effect the salon experience was having on Priscilla was obvious. She sat, staring at her rapidly changing feminine visage, as she looked into the mirror. The pink cape was wrapped around her. Her glistening wet hair shone in the brightly lit mirrors.
Her waxed and plucked brows were now in a thin, high-arched curve. Her lips and cheeks showed the early effects of the plumping collagen injections. She observed as Alicia carefully mixed the deep, Sepia brown shade that would soon be painted into Priscilla’s light brown hair.
As Alicia sectioned off strands of Priscilla’s tresses, she began to brush in Priscilla’s new coloring. Priscilla was obviously transfixed as her transformation accelerated. I wondered how much the salon experience would eventually captivate her. Usually if a sissy was overcome by a makeover it took place at a vanity styling station.
For Priscilla though, in her own words, things changed for her underneath a hair dryer. Once the color was brushed in, Alicia moved an infrared dryer/accelerator into place and did some makeup sample tests on Prissy’s face.
Then Alicia again sectioned off strands of Priscilla’s locks to weave in the foil as she painted in the ginger highlights that would beautifully set off the sepia brown shading. Once Alicia was satisfied with her work she again used the infrared accelerator to enhance the coloring process.
After Alicia removed the foil wrapping she used some scented mousse to fluff-up Prissy’s locks. Then she said, “Take a good look honey. A lot of your hair is about to disappear. Don’t worry. You’re going from pretty to absolutely gorgeous.”
Alicia sectioned, trimmed, tapered and clipped Priscilla’s hair from a below-the-shoulder length matted mess, into a tapered, shaved-to-the-nape, inverted long bob or “Lob.” Prissy did look fantastic, but Alicia was far from done.
She then rolled over a cart of multi-colored wave rods and set Priscilla’s new “do” using a lavender scented setting pomade. Priscilla watched carefully. For the first time she saw and felt the truly feminizing effect a head full of curlers, rollers or waving rods has on a sissy during transformation.
Once Priscilla was seated under a bonnet dryer and handed a ladies’ hair and fashion mag, she began to experience the cool, relaxing feeling of being a pampered, salon princess. She told me later that all at once the turmoil within her calmed and she felt peaceful and at ease.
In her words, “The hair dryer started to whir and I felt the warm air from the fan and heating elements. The rollers tightened a bit more but the feeling I realized from that was that my hairdo was going to look so fabulous. Then the flow of the heated air brought the scent of the Lavender setting pomade into my nostrils.”
“My eyes misted slightly from the odorous chemicals but the miasma of the pomade, the hair color, the shampoo and the body lotions seemed to assault my inner-girlish senses all at once. It became a true emotional lift for me,” Prissy added.
“For the first time in ages I felt as if I belonged somewhere and the realization was that it was right there at the salon. I stretched my legs, relaxed and enjoyed the pages upon fascinating pages of pretty hairdo’s, lovely fashions, and daring makeovers within the magazine I was now reading. I couldn’t wait for Alicia to complete my hair and face,” Priscilla smiled.
I have since spoken to numerous other “Sister’s” who have shared with me similar stories from their sissies as to their transformative embracement of their femininity at a beauty salon. It truly is fascinating. It’s as if they were frightened to enter this inner-sanctum of total femaleness, but once they allowed themselves to be submerged within it, they ultimately embraced the girl within themselves.
It was during her comb-out and makeup application that I saw the look of momentary surrender within Priscilla’s eyes. She tells me she felt an aura of ladylike bliss surround her at the moment Alicia began to remove the curlers from her hair. I saw the slight, nearly forced smile, the batting of her deep brown eyes, and then the demure, girlish folding of her hands in her lap.
As Alicia teased, brushed, sprayed and combed Priscilla’s spirals into a modified curled bouffant I watched her eyes light up and a pretty smile cross her face. Alicia paused to tousle Priscilla’s curls and then encouraged her to do the same.
“Do you like it baby? Go ahead, touch your pretty hairdo honey. You look fabulous darling. How does it feel, love?” Alicia asked.
“It feels so soft and springy even with the hair spray. I adore it Ms. Alicia. Is this what it would look like permed?” Priscilla asked.
“Yes. Pretty much, cupcake. Then of course you can set a bubble perm on larger rollers and get a very smooth pouf bouffant look. There are so may things you can do with beautiful thick hair like you have Priscilla,” smiled Alicia, who now rolled a makeup cart over to her station and began to choose colors that would match Priscilla’s new hair color as well as her nails.
“I’m just so very amazed, Ms. Alicia, that my hair could look so very pretty and sexy at this shorter length,” gushed Priscilla, as she turned her head left and right, fluffing her bouncy curls as she primped, preened and fussed girlishly in the mirror.
“It really isn’t as short as it looks Priscilla. I gave you a very tight curl. When you shampoo out the hair lacquer and the setting pomade, some of the curl and wave might stay but the hair will in general straighten out and lengthen,” said Alicia.
“But you are correct. You have pretty and sexy hair because you are a quite pretty and sexy girl. And a very fortunate girl to have such a kind and wealthy employer who puts you in such expensive attire and treats you to deluxe beauty makeovers at a five star salon such as Salon Unique,” Alicia allowed.
“Yes, yes I am very fortunate. Thank you so much Madame Pendergast, for allowing me to experience such a truly special day as this. Oh, Madame Pendergast, you appear so devastatingly gorgeous right now,” cooed my sissified maid.
“How very nice of you to say so, Priscilla. Hopefully we can enjoy many of these makeovers together in the future,” I added.
Alicia smoothed a bronze foundation into Priscilla’s smooth facial skin. She then blended a coral pink matte powder with the liquid foundation. After using a ruddy crimson blush, dark mascara, and taupe eye shadow Alicia came to the “piece de resistance.” She was now ready to coat Priscilla’s mouth with lipstick.
Alicia first used a burgundy lip wand to outline Priscilla’s newly plumped lips. Then she took a tube of violet lipstick, by Guerlain and filled in with two coats, between the outline. My makeup had already been completed.
I stood behind Priscilla as Alicia said, “Voila, darling!”
The look on Priscilla’s made-over face said it all. She realized then that she could enjoy living as a girl, even if it meant complete subservience to me as her Master. Priscilla stood up and daintily turned toward Alicia. “Oh thank you so much Ms. Alicia, I so love how I look!” Priscilla squeaked in as feminine a voice as I could imagine. She embraced Alicia and gave her a girlish peck on the cheek.
“Oh thank you Madame Pendergast. I can’t thank you enough I don’t think,” Priscilla mewled.
“Oh, well my darling, you are very welcome,” I said, as I thought of numerous ways she could repay me.
Truthfully I am bisexual and at this moment Priscilla, in spite of once being Peter appeared as an attractive younger female to me. I was already considering seating myself on my bed, with a glass of Bourbon, with Priscilla submissively using her tongue and mouth to pleasure me.
On the drive back to my estate, Priscilla sat primly, smiling wonderfully. I had her prepare lunch for us and then begin her day’s cleaning as I napped, wearing a hairnet. Less than 24 hours into the activation of my plan I already had a seemingly compliant maid in my employ.
Chapter III: A Well-Mannered Servant
The warm morning sun came thru my lace curtains. The feeling between my loins was a pleasant one. It was the touch of a pair of moist, lipstick coated lips upon by vaginal opening and a wet, darting tongue licking over my clitoris. I intertwined my fingers within Priscilla’s recently permed tresses.
I stretched my back comfortably as the neatly manicured fingers of her soft girlish hands squeezed gently upon my pudenda. Oh, how nice this was. I don’t recall when I had begun to expect this sort of service from Priscilla? It seemed to have started a few months ago?
The days had run into weeks, and now Priscilla’s transformation must have been into its fourth month? Would I dare I count? I know that one evening at bedtime I had felt randy as she was brushing my hair. I had stopped her. “Put down the brush, Priscilla. Come to my bed. I want you to learn to suck my pussy,” I ordered.
It was a simple as that. From then on whenever I felt the need I would simply look at her and say, “I’ll be in my boudoir. I’ll expect you between my legs shortly Priscilla.”
As a subservient housekeeper and lady’s companion she had become, she would daintily curtsey and softly say, “As you wish, Madame Pendergast.”
On this particular occasion, I’d woken to use the bidet, when I though it would be nice to enjoy a puss-lick prior to sunrise. After I’d wiped with tissue, and washed my hands I walked down the wide hall to her room. I cracked the door open and knocked. “Priscilla? Are you awake, my sissy-girl?” I asked.
“Yes Madame Pendergast, I am. I just finished praying to the Goddess Aphrodite to start my day. I will be in with your breakfast at 8 AM as usual on a Saturday, Madame” Prissy answered.
“My breakfast can wait. It’s time for your breakfast, you might say. I want you in my bed, Priscilla,” I laughed.
Like the obedient lamb she had become she minced down the hallway behind me after a smart curtsey and a “Yes Madame, as you wish.”
I laid back on my bed, my peignoir pulled up and my legs spread. Priscilla crawled between my legs and began licking and sucking. I had never allowed her to kiss my mouth, or touch and kiss my breasts. Nor was she ever given any sexual release.
Not that she could have any real sexual release any longer. During her last visit to Doctor Tabor, prior to that lovely morning, she could barely get a half erect penis and the good doctor had to conduct a prostate milking to draw even a slight milky white sperm discharge from her.
The Estrogen injections along with the Estrogen tablets, creams and lotions were working quite well. She’d effectively been chemically neutered. Her breasts had enlarged to nearly a “B” cup and her hips were swollen to rounded womanly proportions. With her slim, corseted waist she had a lovely figure.
Plus, she thought and acted as any submissive female would and should. She’d become a wonderful lover for my pussy. At the moment she finally found my “hot” spot and I’d experienced sexual release, my back arched, I squeezed her head tightly between my thighs and my entwined fingers tugged greedily at her permed tresses.
I finally screamed loudly as my orgasm came to fruition. Then I closed my eyes as Priscilla stood up to wipe off her face and then dress for her day. She’d become attractive, appealing and graceful enough to accompany me to outings such as Cassandra Sisterhood meetings, luncheons, shopping and charity events.
Her trip to the salon to get her first permanent wave was a true milestone for her on her journey into ultra-effeminacy. Prior to that visit she had always been extra-fastidious about her appearance, her house cleaning and her cooking. To watch her fuss with her hair, makeup and clothing before she answered the door to greet my guests was truly precious.
To see her after her perm was put in, and the way she cared for it and how she enjoyed doing things with it, was to see an absolute salon queen in perfect motion. On the way to the salon that day she was quiet as a mouse. I did try to impress upon her that after a permanent wave she would only have to set her hair at bedtime for very special occasions.
This appeared to perk her up. She smiled and fluffed the ends of her long bob, which had spent the night rolled tightly on plastic rollers. “I don’t recall what it is like to sleep without curlers and a scarf in my hair, Madame. It has been months since I haven’t,” she mused.
“Yes, Priscilla. You’ve become quite the girly girl under my strict tutelage haven’t you? But wasn’t it all worth it, though? Isn’t this better, my angel? To be able to openly face society dressed as a prim and proper lady’s companion, rather than steal about, hiding behind closed doors wearing someone else’s clothing, and masking the fact from everyone that you really want to be a girl?” I asked her.
“Yes, Madame. It is better. Much better. I’m no longer ashamed of being truly who I am. You were so right. I was born to be a girl. A true girly girl at that. I adore making myself pretty enough to be in your presence and the presence of your closest friends and associates,” Priscilla happily gushed.
At the salon she minced to the shampoo sink to be swathed in a pink salon cape, with a fussy, ruffled collar. After only a light trim and a slight razor shave near her nape, her “Lob” was reshaped into a perfectly contoured “do.” Then as Alicia wound her locks quite tightly onto medium sized waving rods I had my hair trimmed.
After my stylization I stood to the side as Alicia carefully constructed a perfectly silhouetted, “stacked” perm. Priscilla stared self-consciously into the wraparound salon mirror, the many rollers of her stacked perm enhancing her feelings of submissive girlishness.
“And now, my brave little sissy you will soon know what ladies have dealt with down thru the ages to please their men by adding permanent curls to their hair. If you think those rollers are tight now, just wait until Alicia adds the perm lotion to your tightly wound locks. Oh my goodness, and the scent of the odorous perm solution!” I exclaimed to her.
“The rollers will tighten and the foul smelling solution will permeate your olfactory senses. Then the heat of the dryer will multiply the tightness of the rollers yet again as the scent of the perm chemicals will become yet, even stronger. And, that odorous scent will stay with you for weeks, reminding you every time you shampoo of how far you have gone to make yourself overtly pretty, girly and feminine, my sweet girly-girl,” I added.
With the perm solution added Prissy was escorted to the hair dryer and given a “Good Housekeeping” magazine. Yet another reminder to her that she was my subservient maid and existed at the whims of my good graces.
After a rinse the neutralizer was added and soon Alicia was checking the extent of Priscilla’s curl. Once satisfied Alicia started to remove the wave rods and finger style and blow dry Priscilla’s pretty bubble perm. Priscilla looked just perfectly feminine and girlish with her new curly bouffant “do”.
Plus she acted in kind, playing with her curls, preening prissily before the salon mirrors, trying to use excess hairspray to tone down the residual scent of the perm solution. I sometimes missed the fact that she didn’t have rollers in her hair when she spent the early morning hours sucking my pussy.
To get back to the lovely morning where this discourse began, the music alarm in my boudoir sounded again at 7:45 AM as I’d drifted back off into a deep sleep after Priscilla’s wonderful oral ministrations had satisfied me. Precisely at 8 AM, Prissy knocked lightly at my door to announce my breakfast being served.
“Have you eaten Priscilla?” I asked.
“No Madame. I was going to have breakfast after I returned your tray. Then I would clean the kitchen while you dressed,” she said.
“Well then, please sit at my vanity and face me. There is something we need to discuss. You know, that since your transformation began, the only time I have seen my daughter Shayla is at the office, her home, or if we socialized publicly. She hasn’t visited me at my estate these past four, plus months,” I said.
“Now that you are comfortable as Priscilla I would like both her and her fiancé, Eduardo to come to dinner here. That’s correct. She is engaged to be married, but no date has been set. I’ll expect you to serve dinner to us as well as to apologize to Shayla for your past conduct towards her,” I said.
“Additionally I would expect you to thank Eduardo for being able to provide for her the life and the sexual satisfaction that you couldn’t possibly ever give her. Is that understood Priscilla? Very well then. After lunch we will practice what you are to do and say that evening,” I added.
Eduardo already knew the consequences Priscilla had undergone at my hands. As much as I liked Eduardo it was probably for the best. He would always know that I was no one to trifle with either as an employer nor as a Mother-in-Law. As promised after lunch, I put Priscilla thru the script I wanted her to follow the next Saturday evening to apologize to Shayla as well as to thank Eduardo.
As Priscilla readied me for Saturday evening, I checked her over. Her curly permanent wave was swirled atop her head in a spirally upsweep. Her makeup was flawless. She wore a formal maid’s dress for evening serving. Her hair was netted and she was perched on three-inch pumps.
Her apron swirled around her with a large bow above her plump, girlish rear. Her waist was cinched to a perfectly svelte 20 inches. She had dieted and exercised down to a sylphlike 122 pounds. Her perfume was light and tasteful.
When the doorbell rang I sent her to answer it. In her best, feminine, cheery maid’s voice she sang, “Ms. Shayla it is wonderful to see you. You must be Mister Eduardo? So very honored to meet you sir. Please come in? I’m Priscilla, Madame Pendergast’s lady’s maid.”
“Please sit down and be comfortable. I’ll announce you to Madame and we’ll start with some beverages, I’m sure. Madame, your lovely daughter and her handsome fiancé are here,” Priscilla announced.
Once we were seated everyone ordered drinks. I sent Priscilla for them. When she returned, Eduardo asked to use the bathroom.
“Priscilla, escort Mr. Eduardo to the nearest full guest’s bath. Please wait for him outside to escort him back,” I ordered.
Priscilla left the living room ahead of Eduardo. Her hips swayed rhythmically with the click of her high heels. The large sized butt plug reminding her to walk with a gyrating wiggle. Her three sets of dangling earrings bouncing with her sprayed curls.
The earrings tickling her neck as well as the side of her face were also a constant reminder that with every step she took that she had truly become a very, very, girlish female. Indeed with her pert bust and her slim waist, she was a really physically attractive girl.
When we were alone, my daughter turned to me and said, “Well mother, you have outdone yourself. I’m very impressed. The photos you took of Miss Priscilla really didn’t do her justice. She’s adorable and plays the part of a lady’s maid to a tee. I’m amazed. She’s impeccably feminine and perfectly turned out. Mother are her tits and ass real?”
“Yes, she takes hormones. Those breasts and butt are all Priscilla’s. She goes to the salon with me and gets her hair done, regularly. She just had it permed. She truly enjoys living as a girl. Would you like her as a bridesmaid at your wedding?” I asked.
“No thank you mother. No that would be too, too much. Eduardo’s parents and family will be there. I don’t want to explain why my ex-boyfriend is one of my bridesmaids. Eduardo is amused by Priscilla and what you’ve accomplished with her, but at very best he finds it freakish. As amused as I am I don’t want her in my wedding,” Shayla added.
“But you will allow me to have the wedding here, won’t you? You wouldn’t mind if she was here as a hostess? She’ll seat people, assist the caterers, and attend to me and my close friends. She can easily be explained away as my housekeeper,” I added.
“Yes, that would be fine. The estate is a lovely place and Priscilla is your maid and I guess part of your household now,” Shayla shrugged.
Dinner was lovely. Priscilla made an absolutely lovely roast with vegetables and salad. The red wine she picked out was superb. When I complimented Prissy on her cooking, serving and table-setting, Shayla chimed it.
“Yes Priscilla, you did a lovely job this evening,” Shayla added.
After dinner Priscilla entered the living room and I announced that she had some things to say. I had brought both Eduardo and Shayla up to speed and they were aware of what she was about to do.
First Priscilla curtsied and knelt before Shayla. “Madame Shayla I want to ask your forgiveness for my transgressions against you. Please forgive me for failing you as a partner and as a lover,” Priscilla said.
“Of course Prissy. I realize you were never much of a male person and more or less masquerading as Peter, when you really wanted to be Priscilla. You are excused Prissy,” Shayla replied.
Then Priscilla curtsied and knelt before Eduardo. “Mister Eduardo, I want to thank you for being the man that Ms. Shayla needs to be together with for a happy, fulfilled life. I know you will support her in her career as well as be the lover to her that I could never be,” Priscilla added.
“Well thank you Priscilla and I know you must be very happy as a maid and housekeeper,” Eduardo smiled.
The rest of the evening went very well. At bedtime both Priscilla and I slept in hairnets as we wanted to keep our hairstyles fresh for an event at the Cassandra Sisterhood Temple the following day. It was a Sunday and very near to the Winter Solstice.
Upon both the Summer and Winter Solstices as well as the Autumn and Spring Equinoxes, our Sisterhood celebrated the Feast of the Goddess Freya, the Norse Goddess of Sorcery, a very special attribute held dearly by many members of the Cassandra Sisterhood.
There would be a service of remembrance of Freya, followed by music, singing and chanting. Then to the excitement of everyone, a ceremony would be held, which was called the “Dedication of the Castrates.” Every three months any sissies that had been castrated since the last “Feast of Freya” would be paraded before our membership and dedicated to Freya and the Sisterhood, on behalf of their Female Masters.
I always looked forward to this event. This would be Priscilla’s first occasion of seeing the “Procession of the Castrates.” However, I thought it might give her an eventual window into a decision she might need to make one day. The service would be followed by a lovely brunch in the temple’s banquet room.
We arrived at the Temple early and saw two dear Sister’s conversing in the lobby. Each had their very slender sissy wives with them. After we greeted each other affectionally, Bethany, one of the two women said, “Phaedra and I are quite excited. It will be a rather large procession today. Eight Castrates will be dedicated this morning and my Leslie, as well as Phaedra’s Babette will be two of them.”
“Oh, the two of you had your girls fixed?” I asked.
“Did we ever, Vivian. And, yes, it was the very best thing either of us has ever done where our pansies are concerned. Don’t you agree Phaedra?” Bethany asked.
“Yes, absolutely, dear Bethany. I’ve never seen my Babette so calm and relaxed since the day I began to feminize her. With her nuts now gone and none of that nasty testosterone coursing thru her bloodstream she no longer has any of those vile, boyish thoughts poisoning her decision making. She’s just so very sweet and naturally elegant these days,” Phaedra reasoned, smiling at her blushing Babette.
“Yes, it’s the very same with my Leslie. I wish I had done it years ago. After having her clipped, I can’t imagine why any woman would tolerate a set of balls on any sissy. They’re useless unless you want to employ them as a target during a painful paddling. As you can see we have them both dolled up absolutely gorgeously, hoping one of them wins the Castrato Princess award,” smiled Bethany.
The service began with a homily by the Grand High Priestess Alana, covering the legends surrounding the Goddess Freya, and all of her accomplishments. Then the acoustic band began playing eerie melodies followed by intense drumming and then some beautiful operatic style singing. Everything was in keeping with the ancient Norse and Celtic theme of our temple ceremony.
Then the High Priestess began the rhythmic clapping and chanting to various ancient goddesses accompanied by tympani drumming. The Sisters in the Temple were being worked into a frenzy and there was a plethora of Rhythmic clapping, swaying and dancing. At long last many of the Sisters had to sit from exhaustion.
Numerous sisters had embraced each other, kissed and rubbed their breasts and crotches against each other. It was quite a heady scene and I was very stimulated. I nearly had made Priscilla kneel and put her head underneath my skirt.
Lastly the High Priestess announced that the Presentation and Procession of the Castrates should begin. “Will the respective Masters please bring this season’s Castrates to the front of the assembly,” said the High Priestess.
All eyes turned to the central aisle as one by one, each of eight Sisters led their lovely Castrato toward the High Priestess, with each Castrato on a leash. As beautifully as each Master was attired, the Castrates were all turned out perfectly as one might dress a girl as a bridesmaid or a beauty pageant contestant.
The hair of each Castrato was done wonderfully. Some in glamorous upsweeps, others in teased bouffants, more in the bounciest of curls. Their cosmetics had been applied, fully, richly and vividly. All eight of the new eunuchs walked prissily on tall, 6 inch spike heels.
As the procession passed my row I could smell the Castrates’ miasma of perfumes. As they reached the Priestess’s altar, the sissies were made to kneel and bow their heads. Their leashes were removed and the Priestess began the ceremonial invocation.
“Sister’s of Cassandra. We are gathered here today to honor the Norse Goddess Freya, the Goddess of Sorcery. Sorcery being dear to all of our hearts. In Freya’s honor we will be dedicating the bodies and the lives of these eight, adorable Castrates to Goddess Freya and our grand Society,” she announced.
“Each of these lovelies, upon the direction of their Masters, has undergone the indignity of having her testicles surgically removed,” smiled the Priestess as the cheering and applause became almost deafening.
“At the end of the dedication ceremony the Castrates will all rise and I will choose one of them to serve as our Castrato Princess for the lovely buffet banquet in our elegant festivity room,” announced the Priestess.
“Sisters of Cassandra, who gives these eight Castrates to Freya and the Sisterhood?” Priestess Alana asked.
“We do!” The eight Sisters announced in unison.
“Wonderful ladies! Do you subservient Castrates vow to serve your Masters, the Goddess Freya and the Sisterhood? Do you promise under the penalty of severe disciplinary action to do our bidding as long as we may require it? Do you sincerely pledge to keep yourselves beautiful, feminine and chaste for the personal sexual use of only your personal Masters, as well as their designated authorities in their absence? Pledge yourselves now or leave our presence girls!” Priestess Alana ordered.
“We so submissively do,” said the Castrates, meekly.
“Then arise girls, look straight ahead at the painting of Goddess Freya behind me. I will now choose one lucky eunuch to be our Castrato Princess for the day,” Priestess Alana proclaimed.
Priestess Alana walked proudly back and forth looking intently up and down the elegant figures of the corseted Castrates. She looked over their expensive gowns and dresses, their polished high heels, their painted nails, their permed tresses and their cosmetically enhanced features.
Finally she stopped in front of a trembling Babette, the sissy wife of my friend Phaedra. “This one. I like this one. What is your name girl and who do you belong to?” Alana asked.
Babette curtsied sweetly. “I am Babette, Madame Priestess. I am the property of Mater Phaedra,” Babette squeaked.
“Then you shall serve as our Castrato Princess at our banquet , girl. Make your Master proud. Sister Phaedra. You may place the Princess wreath upon your Castrate’s head,” Alana allowed.
A floral wreath, appropriately enough garlanded with “pansies” was placed upon the beautiful curly bob worn by Babette that day. I thought she was ready to faint, she was so enthralled by it all. Then holding her High Priestess scepter over her head, the Priestess led the procession into the banquet hall. Directly behind her was Phaedra with her leashed Castrato, Babette.
Behind her were the seven other Masters leading their Castrates by leashes. The rest of the group followed. As was customary, the Castrato Princess, Babette was chosen to serve as High Priestess Alana’s “wench” for the duration of the Buffet Banquet, seeing to it that Alana was kept supplied with food, back rubs and beverage.
It was during the banquet that I noted a distinct change in the behavior of Priscilla. She didn’t seem sullen, but she was preoccupied, almost withdrawn. Although she did mingle with other maids and housekeepers during the banquet she didn’t speak to any of the Castrates.
Though she did appear to view the excited Castrates with quite a bit of interest from a distance. She served me with her usual obsequious politeness and primness but she appeared almost mechanical. In retrospect it was as if she wanted nothing to do with the giddy, fluttery Castrates as they enjoyed their morning of dubious celebrity.
At that moment Phaedra walked up to me and gave me a very sexy hug and kiss. “Well darling, your little pet won! Aren’t you proud of her?” I asked.
“Yes very. And thrilled with myself of course. After all I chose her apparel, hairdo, makeup and jewelry. Speaking of jewelry, do you like those dangling jeweled earrings she’s wearing?”
“Yes, they are hard to miss. Are those yours. Diamonds?” I asked.
“No, they are definitely hers and they are mostly zirconium. Zirconium mixed with her removed testicles,” smiled Phaedra.
“Her testicles? You’re kidding? No, you aren’t, are you? Does she know? How did you do it?” I gasped.
“She doesn’t know. I’ll likely tell her the next time she gushes about me giving them to her as a gift. Just to see her reaction. She loves them though. After surgery, I had Doctor Klein freeze them. I kept them in my basement freezer unit until I could take them to Phyllis Lane at her high-fashion jewelry store,” Phaedra laughed.
“Phyllis had them baked them until they crystallized. They did the same with some zirconium. Then they ground both substances into powder. They mixed the two substances together into a compounded paste and cast them as small diamond-like stones. Isn’t it fantastic? My wife is wearing the very symbol of her castration attached to her earlobes?” Phaedra smirked.
I thought it was absolutely marvelous and filed it away. Though I wanted to confront Priscilla about her near-sullenness when we arrived at the estate, I decided against it. It was too soon. I’d see if it just wasn’t a mood she was in. Hormones? Too much, too little?
I’d wait things out as any patient, calculating Cassandra Sister was apt to do. Though in the impending future, things didn’t change. As always, I knew the solution.
Chapter IV: In a Matter of Speaking
I watched Priscilla carefully, whenever I had the time to observe her, and I did determine things were coming to a head. I dearly hoped I did not need to paddle her or worse yet, cane her severely. In reality she had not been rude, curt or disrespectful to me.
One evening as she brushed my hair, though she had a pretty frozen smile on her painted lips, It was obvious to me her usual fawning attention to my toilet was missing. As a rule, Priscilla by nature made quite a fuss over my hair, skin or facial features.
Gone was the usual, “Oh Madame, your hair is just so thick and healthy. You must be the envy of your social set?”
Or, “Madame Vivian, your skin is like Alabaster Porcelain. You know that you don’t look a day over thirty-five, don’t you Madame?” Priscilla would say.
I had grown to enjoy it and missed it. Priscilla left my room and I got in bed with the light on to read. Several minutes went by and I decided to discuss things with her. I walked to her room, knocked and entered. Priscilla had removed her makeup put on face cream and was now fingering a leave-on conditioning pomade into her now, loosely permed curls.
She smiled, stood up and curtsied. “Yes Madame. Do you need me to do something for you?” Priscilla politely asked.
“Yes Priscilla. For the past several weeks, nearly since the first visit by Shayla and Eduardo your aura has changed. Something is different and I feel you believe I have slighted you. What is wrong Priscilla? Here, let’s sit on your bed and you can tell me,” I said.
Priscilla instead sat at her vanity bench and faced me smiling. It then occurred to me she’d been quite pert, cute and fluttery whenever she’d served my guests. So yes, it was me she’d felt slighted by.
“Yes Madame Pendergast, you are correct. I feel slighted by you and I feel strangely abhorrent towards your Sisterhood. First, there was that awful evening where I groveled before Ms. Shayla and Mister Eduardo. That was terribly demeaning. Then, that absolutely shaming Castration celebration at your ladies’ club. As conflicted as I am, I feel I want to ask you to release me from your employ, Madame,” Priscilla stated.
“So that is it? Well, I can arrange for you to leave here. I don’t know where you can go, or what you will do? Do you plan on prancing into a financial house, in a frilled, beribboned dress, show them your diploma as Peter and asking for a job, Priscilla?” I laughed.
“I’m afraid the only job you can perform in a boardroom is serving coffee and cake, and preening about as a piece of saucy eye candy. Was apologizing to my daughter Shayla that horrible? Was thanking her new man for caring for her so bad to do?” I asked.
“Apologizing and offering a thank you would not be so horrid if I hadn’t been bowing and scraping on my knees Madame. I felt a simple curtsey before and after my apology and thank you would have been sufficient,” Priscilla stated.
“Priscilla, do you realize those recently castrated girls were thrilled with their new found femininity and celebrity don’t you? They were as giddy as newly minted brides. And you know why? Because they were one step closer to their lifelong goal of being female,” I added.
“Deep within each of those girls for their entire lives they have wanted to be females, yet, like you, they feared retaliation if they expressed their girlish side. Why do you think each of those girls somehow became romantically attracted to a Cassandra Sister?”
“It took a Cassandra Sister just like me to see the girl inside those sissies and bring her to the forefront of those young ladies personalities. They are better off without their testicles and the horrible testosterone they produce. The testosterone which will no longer confuse them and interfere with their girlish pursuits,” I informed Priscilla.
“However, if you still think all of this is so dreadful, I can dismiss you immediately or we could set up a transition period for you, of over a few months time. You have money you know? I’ve been splitting your salary between an investment account, a savings account and a checking account. All in the name of Priscilla Collette Pendergast,” I said.
“I will also sign over the Lexus sedan which you use for shopping and errands. If you have to, you can sell it, keep some of the money and still buy a less expensive vehicle. I want you to be contented Priscilla. And if you think you can be untroubled as Peter then so be it. Although as Peter you may not leave here with one stitch of Priscilla’s clothing,” I frowned.
“Because, I’ll not have you torturing yourself stealing about hiding your latent femininity behind closed doors again. You will leave here as Priscilla or Peter but not both. The choice is yours young lady. What shall it be?” I asked.
“I don’t know just right now, Madame. May I tell you over the next ten days? What you just said to me was a lot to swallow, ma’am,” Priscilla mewled.
“Yes, it is a lot. It’s a life-determining decision. Today is Friday. I’ll expect your answer by next Friday, once you have completed cleaning up after dinner. One week should be sufficient time,” I added.
The following Friday I sat sipping a snifter of Brandy after dinner. Priscilla minced in after cleaning the kitchen and dining area. She curtsied and asked, “Might I get you another Brandy, Madame, or something else?”
“Not just now. What I want to hear, is the answer to the question I proposed to you. When you leave here do you leave as Priscilla or as a transitioning Peter?” I asked.
“Madame I have decided I don’t want to leave you at all. I want to remain as Priscilla, your maid and Lady’s Companion,” she said softly.
“After all that? After all the threats to leave, the complaints, the comments about my social group, you’ve now decided to stay? I won’t have it Priscilla. Not just like that. I’m not letting you just tug at my heart strings and my emotions. If you want to stay you will take the revered vows of a Cassandra sissy,” I stated.
“You will vow to obey any and all of my decisions concerning you, regardless of how you think they impact you. You will take a pledge to never again question the choices I will fashion on you behalf. You are to agree to realize any election I make for you is for your benefit and in your very best interests Miss Priscilla Collette,” I spoke.
“Unless you can place yourself in my hands and under my care fully and unreservedly you then must leave, Priscilla Pendergast, and leave very soon, at that. Is that understood, young lady? So if you truly desire to stay you must kneel at my feet now, bow your head, and give your Word of Honor to Freya, the Sisterhood and to my custody of you. The choice is yours and yours alone to make, Priscilla,” I stated.
Priscilla looked at me as I stood. Tears of uncertainty and doubt filled her. I stared into her dreamy and adorable brown eyes. Then she knelt and lowered her eyes and bowed her head.
“I am yours Madame Vivian. Take me. Make me yours, make me Freya’s. Envelop me within the Cassandra Sisterhood my Madame,” she whispered as if in a trance.
I placed one hand on her left shoulder and one atop her head and I began to chant, “Do you Priscilla Collette, commit yourself to my unabridged care? By the Ghost of Cassandra Winthrop, the Cult of the Goddess Freya and the Legion that is the Sisterhood, do you, without reservation trust my judgement concerning your well-being? Do you agree never to question that judgement and to always abide fully by my decisions?”
“Yes Madame, I pledge by the sacred cult of Cassandra, Freya and the Sisterhood, that I am owned by you and completely safe within your loving bosom,” Priscilla quivered.
“Then rise my child,” I ordered.
I looked at her, and held her trembling form at arm’s length.
“It is done then. I want you to go to your room. Remove your rectal plug. Dress as would a virgin bride, about to be bedded by her new husband. Then come to my boudoir,” I demanded.
I knew how to consummate this warranty. Since I’d joined the Sisterhood I’d been brought into the joys of Lesbianism by my “Sister” Phaedra DeVaughn. She’d shown me the joys of a double-ended faux-phallus. For some time I’d now kept one in my lingerie drawer.
I walked to my boudoir and dressed in my favorite robe. From my dresser I remove the Phallic representation, a tube of Collagen, as well as a vial of lubricant. I heard her light girlish tapping at my door and bade Priscilla to enter. She looked sensational. Her now barely curled, long bob was lightly fluffed.
I realized her perm had grown out. I momentarily found myself wondering whether I liked her in curls or not? From a recent application of styling pomade, her ginger highlights glistened in the lamplight of my boudoir. I took Priscilla in my arms and kissed her passionately. She sighed deeply.
“I love you Madame Vivian,” she swooned, burying her head in between my breasts. I took her to my large comfortable bed and laid her upon it. I undid the fussy bow at the neck of her negligee and opened it to expose her plump breasts.
Those breasts were my doing. I’d helped her grow them by giving her massive dosages of Estrogen. I looked into her mascara enhanced eyes. The blush on her cheeks had been beautifully blended. She’d learned to use makeup well, to enhance her best features. I proceeded to again kiss her lipstick coated mouth.
What a beauty she’d become! Then I squirted some Collagen into my hands. First I kissed one breast and sucked and bit on the nipple. Then I massaged the other breast with the Collagen gel. The nibbling of one nipple and the kneading and my squeezing of the other nipple caused Priscilla to gasp out a sincerely passionate, “Oh, my Madame! How nice!”
She wriggled under my control. Her buttocks danced upon my satin sheets. She was like sweet pudding in my hands. She was helpless to resist me. This delightful tart was mine and I reveled in my ownership of her. As she writhed uncontrollably under my spell, I slowly turned her over, leaving her face down.
“Did you remove your butt plug my angel, as any virgin bride should have?” I cooed to her.
“Oh yes Madame. I want to become yours in every way. Please make me become your wench?” she begged.
“And did you douche my love?” I wondered.
“Yes Madame I have been cleansed and I am yours to take in lust,” she added.
“Wonderful. Relax and prepare to become all mine in body and soul, my pretty creampuff,” I added, smiling.
I forced her to kneel and get on all fours like a doggy. I used two fingers dripping with petroleum jelly to enter her rectum and thoroughly lubricate her. She gulped, loudly. Then I jelled both ends of the large, false phallus, before I lubed the inner walls of my puss. I slid one end of the phallus into my pussy and turned it side to side all the while welcoming a larger portion of it into me.
Then I put my hands on her plump buttocks and found her anal opening with the other end of the dildo. I pushed lightly as Priscilla whinnied.
“All right my delicate and dainty princess. Inhale and exhale deeply. That’s it. This is hardly as difficult as birthing a child. Inhale, then exhale, then push back to meet me. That’s it my fine and fair little girly. Very, very good my angel. That’s better. Now, one more time. There! How is that my lovely?” I asked as I pushed the hard, rubber phallus all the way in.
At that point I might add that her sobbing and whimpering finally reached the point of a loud shrieking screech along with a nearly operatic scream. Then her panting reached the point of her loudly gasping out, “Oh my goodness!”
By now my arms were wrapped around her waist and I would not let go of her. I continued to encourage her to respond to my thrusting by bucking her hips and wiggling her buttocks until we were finally into a very lustful rhythm. For Priscilla this was the event where she finally experienced what being a female was all about.
For all intents and purposes she’d become my bitch and I made the most of it. The feeling of having the dildo move back and forth in a piston-like fashion was so very thrilling. To hear Priscilla grunt and gasp as I screwed her was priceless.
I was using her fully as a female and I loved it. I needed more of this. It was satisfying and fulfilling. In one way, more so than having her head between my legs.
‘Well my gorgeous maid. All those months of primping, preening and making yourself lovely for me have paid off. You are in my boudoir being bedded lustfully as my concubine. Aren’t you happy darling?” I asked.
“Oh yes, very much so Madame. Screw me Madame. Oh screw me please. Make me your wife, make me your little slut, make me your bed whore. Oh this is so good!” Priscilla yelled loudly.
The edges of the dildo rocked against my clitoris and I fingered myself to get closer to an orgasm. Momentarily I reached underneath Priscilla to feel her knob. Her small penis had achieved a modest, plump and nearly hardened erection. I hoped she enjoyed it as it was to be her very last.
I reached a shuddering climax and pounded at Priscilla’s large ass. She screeched loudly as she spurted one of the last dribbles of sperm she would ever release. Her gasp was profound as she finished. She fell to the bed as the dildo slid out of her.
I panted and dropped to the bed and she threw her arms around me. “Oh my Madame, how lovely. Oh thank you Madame. Such a wonderful experience. I truly feel so fulfilled!” Priscilla exclaimed.
As a true sissy would, when Priscilla was treated to the womanly experience of being taken anally by a penis, albeit a faux-penis, she experienced sound fulfillment. We lay in the bliss of sexual denouement. I thought of having her lick up her discharge of spunk, but I rued ruining this gentle, loving moment.
I found myself wanting more moments like this. I realized I was considering taking my sissy maid as a lover, albeit a subservient, fawning, cloying sex-toy. Here I was a quite wealthy, incredibly vital, vibrant, attractive female at the apex of my career, bedding a crossdressed vixen and laying with her in the aftermath of sexual nirvana.
It did not concern me an iota, though. I knew I could have any male or female I desired. I’d sat in board meetings with male subordinates as well as captains of industry and noted how they drooled at the sight of my pushed up breasts and my well-turned legs.
I’d taken female juniors to lunch, to discuss the possibility of promotion and knew they would gladly lick my twat if the occasion or opportunity presented itself. So as for sex I was the predator, the decider, the one who did the choosing. If what I desired at the moment was my overly willing sissy maid then I could change that decision at any moment.
“Why don’t you spend the evening in my bed Priscilla? We might play kissy-face later. Hmm? Get some sleep dear. We need to be at the GYN office at 10 AM on the morrow. Auntie Vivian needs to make a quick phone call love. Here, I’ll cover you with the sheets and comforter, baby,” I whispered as my sissy lover giggled in pleasure.
I sent a text to Elaine Klein. She was the head of surgery at the Women’s Center Clinic, the out-patient surgical center attached to the GYN office where Priscilla and I went for our exams.
“Elaine. Is it too late for us to talk?” I texted.
“No Vivian, it is never too late to speak with one of my wonderful Sisters. I’ll call you in less than two minutes, dear,” she texted back to me. Soon my cell phone chimed.
“Hello Elaine. Thank you for having the time to speak with me,” I said.
“To what do I owe this honor Vivian?” Elaine asked.
“Elaine I have an appointment for Priscilla with Janine Tabor at 10 AM tomorrow. I’d like to change that to an appointment with you in the surgery. Do you have an opening where you could castrate my housekeeper Priscilla? I believe right now is the perfect time for this procedure to be performed and I feel I’d be missing a golden opportunity should I delay this any longer,” I said.
“Well let me look darling. I’m adjacent to my brand new I-Mac. Now let’s see? Well this is interesting. I have a 10 AM surgery opening on the morrow with more than enough time to geld your Prissy. I enjoy doing these procedures as you know? Quick, simple and always very satisfactory to everyone concerned,” Elaine added.
“Very likely my very favorite surgery that we perform at the clinic. May I ask if Priscilla is aware she’s to become a Castrato on the morrow, dear?” Elaine asked.
“Well no, but I have the situation well in hand, Elaine. Everything will be fine I can assure you.Plus, Priscilla will ultimately be very happy for it,” I added.
“Very well then, the surgery appointment has been entered and the visit with Doctor Tabor cancelled. Our scheduling staff will easily fill the cancellation from our waiting list. Now Vivian. Give her two Valiums on the way to the clinic. We’ll administer a third when we call her back to the prep room,” Elaine explained.
“By the time she is strapped to the gurney and a sedative is administered, she’ll be in La-La land. The anesthesiologist and I will take care of the rest. Anything else dear?” Elaine asked.
“Yes, Elaine. Could you freeze her surgically removed balls for me, just as you did for Phaedra DeVaughn?” I requested.
“Of course we can. We’ll quick chill them in a sealed bottle and you’ll leave with a cute little styrofoam cooler filled with dry ice. Are you making some fine jewelry, Vivian? I’ll see to it that you have pain meds for her and injectables you may administer to help her to sleep.” Elaine assured me as we said goodbye.
I walked happily back to my boudoir and crawled into bed with Priscilla. Overcome with excitement and lust, I pulled her to me. She responded almost immediately by clutching me about my waist. I pulled her head to my breasts and said, “Suckle darling. Suckle and make Auntie Vivian horny.”
Indeed she sucked like a nursing infant. Priscilla embraced one of my breasts with the slender, well-manicured fingers of both her soft hands and wrapped the lips of her freshly painted mouth around my fattened nipple. Ripples of pleasure coursed thru my awakening body.
How I’d missed being made love to! My spouse Desmond had been a marvelous lover. I had met him in grad school at the age of 23 when he was 50 years of age and already a well establish financier. Though at the time, I thought I was a committed lesbian, he still swept me off my feet and is still the only man I’ve ever made love to.
I now instructed Priscilla to use her well-trained mouth and tongue to embellish my pussy. She practically crawled underneath my robe to part my cunt lips and begin her delicate, licking, sucking and nibbling of my clitoris. With my vaginal lips spread wide she worked skillfully.
She was well-trained and of course I had trained her. I was surprised that after my earlier climax I could even have another this soon but I did. It wasn’t nearly as intense as the first, but still very satisfying. “You’ve done well princess. Sleep my pet. Our day will be long on Saturday,” I told her. On the drive to the clinic I handed her two Valium and pointed to the bottle of water in the cup holder of my Lexus SUV console. If she suspected a thing, she said nothing. Even when we turned right into the clinic instead of left to go to the offices, she remained silent. Once we were inside the clinic we followed the signs to the surgical ward.
Elaine Klein was correct. When I left Priscilla in the surgery prep she was quite loopy and the sedative IV drip had begun. Then they called me once she was in recovery. I held her hand as she came out of the anesthesia. On the drive to the estate she turned to me to tell me her groin felt sore and tight.
“You need to rest. I don’t want you out of bed today. I’ll care for you. Only liquids for twenty-four hours my pet. I dare say you won’t be back to housekeeping until you are cleared by Doctor Klein,” I smiled.
She was undressed, and into a sleeping robe. I’d given her an oxycontin. I’d changed her sanitary napkin. I had cleaned and checked the sutures on her empty ball sac. She looked up at me and asked, “Did I have surgery this morning Madame?”
“Yes you did, angel,” I smiled.
“Did Doctor Klein remove my testicles, Madame?” Priscilla asked.
“Yes, darling, she did. Here, why not rest? Everything will be wonderful. No more painful anxiety due to that awful, troublesome, Testosterone. You’ll be so happy. Now, I’ll give you something to sleep, my precious,” I smiled, as I loaded a syringe with a heavy sedative and injected it into her rump.
“You’ll sleep like a baby now, Priscilla Collette. Just like Auntie Vivian’s little girl,” I smiled as her eyes rolled back into her head.
Chapter V: Family Matters
Between the Holidays and March I had two wonderful phone calls. One from my daughter who told me she and Eduardo wanted to set a wedding date for the third Saturday in June, and have the wedding at our estate. Immediately my daughter and I, with Priscilla’s help began the wedding planning.
Then I made a call to my son and oldest child, Cole, whom I had sent to our Atlanta, Georgia offices. I told him of his sister’s impending marriage. Then I told him I wanted him to return to Florida to work at our headquarters offices with his sister and his future brother-in-law.
“You can live in the guest house on the estate. I’ll have it aired out and redecorated for you. No one has lived there since your sister bought her own home,” I said.
“You don’t need to do that mother. I’m sure Shayla had it decorated mannishly enough for me. Besides, give me time to think everything over. Why don’t I come a week early for the wedding and stay a week after? I’ll look things over,” Cole pleaded.
“It won’t take me long to move back. The corporate condo you put me in here in Atlanta came furnished. I’ll drive up and back. So Shayla isn’t marrying that guy Peter? I know you never liked him,” Cole added.
“No. Peter is gone. Completely. Now please, no more jokes about Shayla being a Tom Boy at one time. I’ll expect you sometime on Saturday the 10th of June. In the afternoon?” I asked.
“That sounds awesome mother,” Cole closed as we said our goodbyes.
Then in March during the Spring Equinox, I had the wonderful occasion of walking my Priscilla Collette down the aisle and presenting her to my coven of Sister’s, as one of the six new Castrates to be dedicated to the Goddess Freya!
Priscilla had bloomed beautifully since her tiny, useless balls had been sliced off by Doctor Klein. She had truly come into her own as a female. She was so relaxed and so very compliant. Her voice had become just as sweet as honey. Butter would not melt in her angelic mouth.
Her transformation was nearly complete and it showed. The day of her dedication to Freya I insisted on having the hairdresser to the estate early that morning. I wanted Priscilla to look her very girlish best. I had her corseted and into an uplift bra. He figure was a stunning 34B-20-36. She slithered into a red velvet knee-length gown with fussy furbelows at her wrists, hem, collar and bosom.
She wore sheer hose and white, six-inch high-heeled open-toe sandal pumps. I had her carry a white, patent leather purse with the strap in the crook of her left arm, with her wrist raised and limp. So very ladylike! Her hair was a masterpiece.
Alicia teased her Sepia and Ginger splashed locks into a high-fashion, curl festooned French twist. Her makeup was as vivid as it possibly could have been without making her look like a whore. I was so proud to parade her up to the High Priestess Alana while holding tightly to her leash.
You cannot imagine the thrill I felt when she was crowned with the garland of pansies and named, “Castrato Princess.” I was so proud of her as she served the High Priestess during the buffet. With the banquet in full swing the High Priestess Alana took me off to the side.
“I have to ask you this. How long has Priscilla been under transformation?” Alana asked.
“Not quite a year and eight months, Priestess Alana,” I said.
“That’s phenomenal. She’s easily the most fabulous sissy here today. You’ve done more than a fantastic job, Grand High Matron Vivian,” Alana added.
“Thank you Priestess Alana. However, my title in our society is only Grand Matron,” I smiled.
“Not any longer my Sister Vivian. I’ve had my eyes on you and Priscilla for some time. I’ve just made you a Grand High Matron. You shall be my Associate Priestess. I’ll announce it before our banquet ends,” she said as she kissed me on the lips.
I couldn’t have been happier. My daughter would soon be wed. Maybe I would become a grandmother? My son would be rejoining us at our Florida headquarters. I had the most perfect sissy housekeeper and lady’s companion. And I had now risen in rank within the Sisterhood.
The morning of the day that my son Cole was to arrive, I went to the hairdresser’s. Once I arrived back at the estate, Priscilla left for the hairdresser’s and to go grocery shopping. We wanted to look our best and have someone present at the estate when Cole arrived.
Cole would be staying in the guest bedroom downstairs from where Priscilla and I now had adjoining boudoirs, and baths, for “convenience”. When Cole did arrive I greeted him, showed him to the guest bedroom, and then we went to the kitchen.
“Why don’t we have some shrimp salad on rye and a soft drink. Priscilla made some lovely shrimp salad sandwiches for us. She’s out shopping and having her hair done. I just returned from the very same salon, though she uses a different hairdresser,” I added.
“Well, you do look very nice mother. Who is Priscilla?” Cole asked.
“My housekeeper and Lady’s companion,” I said.
“You have a housekeeper? You mean like a maid? What is a Lady’s companion?” Cole asked.
“Yes, Priscilla is my maid. She lives in. She also accompanies me to my ladies’ club meetings, charity events, clothes shopping, outings to my friend’s estates, almost anywhere I go. Your grandmother’s maid was also her Lady’s companion,” I said.
“Its something from past generations but I decided to revive it in our family. Especially since your father died. She’s worked for me now for over a year and a half. She’s very sweet,” I said.
“Is she your age mother?” Cole asked.
“No, she’s younger. She’s nearly 27. You’ll be meeting her shortly Cole, her car just pulled into the drive,” I added.
Priscilla minced into the foyer with a bag of groceries in one hand and her black patent leather purse hanging off her other arm. Alicia had teased and fluffed her long bob into a perfect flip. She had a on a white dress with blue polka dots and a blue sash belt at her slim waist.
She walked perfectly on four-inch high heels. She curtsied and smiled to both Cole and I. “I’ll just take this bag into the kitchen and return to the Lexus for more groceries Madame,” Priscilla said.
“No you won’t. I’ll get the rest of the groceries. I’m Cole Pendergast, Vivian’s son. I’m pleased to meet you. You must be Priscilla?” Cole said.
“Yes I am. I’m pleased to meet you Master Cole. You’re early. Madame and I were expecting you in the later afternoon,” Priscilla smiled.
“I drive fast. You’re very formal. Call me Cole,” he said.
“You’ll have to speak to Madame about that. I’m the housekeeper and yes I am formal. But thank you for getting the rest of the bags, sir,” said Priscilla as she sashayed into the kitchen.
I assisted Priscilla putting things away. I watched as Cole brought in numerous bags. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Priscilla. He’d start at her tippy toes and look back up her entire body to the top of her head, pausing at her plump butt, trim waist and pointy bosom.
“What time would you like to eat dinner Madame or would you like lunch? I’m planning on Bouillabaisse, Ceviche and Paella, this evening with white wine and rice pudding,” Priscilla chirped.
“That sounds fine darling. Would you please dine with Cole and I Priscilla?” I asked.
Normally Priscilla and I now ate together. After all we were lovers, at least whenever I desired her in my bed. When guests dined though, she ate in the kitchen.
“I would love that ma’am,” said Priscilla.
During dinner, Cole asked for Priscilla to pass the wine.
“No sir. I will serve you just as I serve Madame and all of her guests,” Priscilla insisted.
Cole would only move his glass so far away from in front of himself. Priscilla would not touch it, to move it. Instead she got behind Cole and poured the best she could. To reach the glass she had to place one of her breasts against Cole’s shoulder which I am certain he loved.
Priscilla was blushing when she returned to her seat at the table. After dinner and her usual cleanup, Priscilla brought Cole and I Brandy in snifters, to the den.
“Priscilla we are retiring early if you want to call it a night?” I said.
“Thank you Madame. Will you and Master Cole like Sunday breakfast in bed or in the dining room?” Priscilla asked, knowing I wouldn’t be going to the Cassandra Temple with my son in town.
“Breakfast in the kitchen at 9 AM will be fine Priscilla,” I smiled.
As Cole and I chatted, I could tell he was eager to discuss Priscilla. I knew a few things about my son from my security staff following him. They were sworn to silence of course. I’d also had them follow my daughter and Peter when they were dating and living together.
I knew Peter was a crossdresser before Shayla did. I had Eduardo followed and was relieved to find out his strict Castilian Spanish upbringing had made him squeaky clean. My son had his share of lady friends but he preferred sissy escorts provided to him by an Atlanta madam. He enjoyed the company of girls that were frilly, fussy, caricatures of 1960’s Hollywood actresses.
He liked girls such as Priscilla. Of course he thought Priscilla was a real girl. Or did he? Could he tell? “You couldn’t take your eyes off of my housekeeper Cole, could you?” I asked.
“No mother. Tell me more about her. I’m intrigued as well as smitten,” he smiled.
“What do you want to know Cole?” I asked.
“Where and how did you find her? Is she from around here?” Cole asked.
“Cole what I am about to tell you is private and confidential. Priscilla isn’t completely a girl. She is sissy. Between her legs she has a tiny flaccid, useless penis and an empty ball sac. She is essentially a post-op transexual,” I told him.
“Mother, you have a sissy transsexual for a housekeeper and companion? How on earth did that happen?” Cole asked.
“You won’t believe me, but Priscilla was once Peter, your sister’s ex-boyfriend. I was angry. She threw him out for cheating on her and for him dressing in her clothes behind her back. He agreed to keep house for me and I progressively feminized him,” I explained.
“But Peter is gone. Vanished. The person you met is emotionally and nearly physically a compliant young female named Priscilla. I know this all sounds crazy Cole,” I shrugged.
“It is crazy mother. It’s also humorous my mannish sister had a boyfriend that is a sissy. Even crazier is that I still want to get to know her and I still think I’d like a romantic encounter with her. Is that okay?” Cole asked.
“If you are serious Cole, I can arrange it but you will leave it to me. Priscilla does as I say. Now listen to me and hear me out. I’ll set this up for Sunday evening after dinner. Until then, you can flirt and play around but don’t do anything serious. Now pay attention to what I’m about to tell you,” I commanded and my son listened.
The following morning after breakfast I sent Cole on a drive to visit his sister and meet his future brother-in-law. I took Priscilla into the den to discuss things with her. I told her about Cole’s romantic inclinations.
“My son appears to be smitten with you Priscilla and I want to give him the chance to get to know you romantically. This evening after dinner I want you to bathe him in the private bath that adjoins his room. Then you will take him to your boudoir for lovemaking. Do you understand me, Priscilla?” I asked.
“Yes Madame. I will do as you wish, Madame,” Priscilla agreed.
“Don’t fret. He knows all about you and I mean everything. Well not everything. He doesn’t know we have been lovers. But he knows who you once were, and he knows that you are not physically a complete female. He’s promised me he won’t discuss any of that with you. I told him that the former life you had is over with,” I said.
Then I described to her what I wanted her to do after dinner once she had served our Cognac in the parlor. You should have seen the look on Cole’s face when she walked back into the parlor twenty minutes later, after she’d served our post-dinner Cognac!
Priscilla’s hair was atop her head in a shiny, French Roll with a large waved curl off to the right side. She wore full and vivid makeup including shimmering crimson lipstick and dark mascara. Around her gorgeous body was a white, shorty Kimono covered in pink flowers.
It tied at her waist with a sash belt, had a V-neck, but was opened at her bosom to show off the tops of her pointed breasts. She was perched delicately on four-inch Marabou slippers. She had an exaggerated bow pinned to the left side of her French-Rolled tresses. Over her left arm she had a white bath towel.
She had drenched herself in expensive Opium perfume. She smiled quite seductively. “Master Cole, I’ve come to give you a bath. If you’d care to, please go to your room and undress. Then come to your adjoining bath. It will be filled with hot bubbles and mannish scented sandalwood oils, sir,” Priscilla added.
“Of course Priscilla. I’d love that. Mother, I’ll be on my way. Priscilla, could you get us some Cognac to bring to the bath?” Cole asked.
I gave them long enough to get settled. Then I darkened the den and turned on the big screen TV. I used a special remote that tied into the security system. I brought up Priscilla’s boudoir, Cole’s bedroom and his bath on split screens.
Priscilla was running the bath water and Cole was undressing as fast as he could. When Cole entered the bathroom wearing a robe Priscilla kissed him as she removed it. Then she gently ran her fingers over his well-endowed cock. Wrapping her arms around his neck she giggled and told him, “Get in the tub you naughty boy. I’m going to make you clean enough to bed me.”
With Cole in the tub Priscilla began to scrub him with a loofa. She nibbled his ear lobe and lightly kissed his lips as she washed him. When the bubbles finally began to go down she found his cock and began to masturbate him. “I want to take you to my boudoir upstairs sir and we can explore each other’s bodies,” she whispered.
“Would you like that Master Cole? Would you like to come to Priscilla’s Boudoir for lovemaking?” Prissy asked.
“I will if you will stop calling me Master Cole,” my son added.
“I’m calling you Master Cole because I am your slave Priscilla, my Master. Would you like me as your love slave and sexual play toy, sir?” Priscilla asked huskily.
“That would be different,” agreed Cole as he stood up to be toweled dry. As Priscilla dried him, she took Cole’s cock in her lips. She dropped the towel, embraced his cock in both hands and fully surrounded his penis as she took nearly the entire length in her mouth and began to really suck him off.
Cole was in ecstasy! She was truly doing a number on him. Now she paused to say, “Let me put your robe on you darling and you can come to my boudoir with me.”
On the way to her boudoir Cole took a detour to his room. He rejoined Priscilla on the stairs and hand in hand they climbed the staircase. Once they were in Priscilla’s boudoir, Priscilla displayed the ice bucket, glasses and cognac bottle.
As Priscilla poured Cole a drink, Cole presented what he’d gotten in his room. A rolled cigarette that contained marijuana and hashish. The entire cigarette had then been dipped in Opium oil. He lit it as he sat down on Priscilla’s bed and pulled Priscilla down on his lap.
“What is that? Don’t you want some Cognac on the rocks Cole?” Priscilla asked.
“Let’s smoke some of this first. Then drink the Cognac to cool the smoke. Here. I have these rolled special by a guy in Atlanta. Top shelf Hawaiian pot, mixed with Moroccan Hash. Then each joint is dipped in opium oil made from Afghan Opium,” Cole said as he handed her the joint.
“Oh my, that is so strong!” Priscilla squeaked, as she coughed. Cole covered her mouth to force her to inhale the smoke. Then he had her wash it down with the cool Cognac. Priscilla’s eyes hazed.
“Try it again. It gets easier. The Hash and pot will enhance your sexual senses. Between the Cognac and Opium, your sphincter muscles should relax quite a bit. We want that to happen, correct, Priscilla?” Cole smiled.
“Oh yes we do! If you are going to put that big, fat, horse-cock of yours up my ass, you can bet I want a nice, relaxed sphincter, honey,” said Priscilla as she nearly gagged on the strong smoke again. Cole forced her to hold this pull even longer and Priscilla appeared to really be getting stoned.
After a third pull on the joint, Priscilla laid down on the bed. Cole was satisfied and stubbed the joint out. He then got on top of Priscilla and began kissing her and playing with her tits.
“Oh, Master Cole. This is so dreamy. Being in my boudoir with a big, strong, muscular, masculine man like you. Not to mention you are a rich bastard,” Priscilla laughed, acting very silly from the effects of the drugs.
Cole took no offense. He only laughed along with her. Priscilla said something unintelligible and it was easy to tell she was slurring her words. Now Priscilla pushed Cole down on the bed, opened his robe and took out his cock. She knelt over him again and began to suck it.
“Here’s that big penis I want in my mouth. Would you like me to put on fresh lipstick before I suck you? No? Well I will. Just tell me what you want my Master and I’ll do it,” she smiled.
“You have such a big, beautiful penis. I want it in my ass soon. My gosh, look at it grow and it’s as hard as a rock! I love you Master Cole. I adore your manliness. Please take me? Please?” Priscilla practically begged.
“How do you want me? On all fours like the little sissy French Poodle that I truly am or on my back the same you you’d screw a real woman?” Prissy smiled.
“On your back, Priscilla. You’re my woman right now. You are all mine you little angel. On your back, girl,” Cole demanded.
“I need to lube us both up. Where is my gel tube and applicator?Here. Smear some of this all over your cock. Now, I’ll just slide this tube up my ass and squeeze. Voila. Now I can really be your woman. Come inside darling,” Priscilla laughed as she lay on her back.
Priscilla raised her butt so as Cole could put a fluffy pillow under her to facilitate her anal opening. Cole took his massive tool and started to enter Priscilla. Priscilla’s eyes grew wide open as Cole entered her. His huge man-meat was significantly longer and fatter than the dildo I often used on Prissy.
It was also bigger than any butt plug I’d had Priscilla wear. However, things went much smoother because I had broken in Priscilla and slut-trained her so very well. She had me to thank for having the taking of her virginity by a real man’s penis go so well as it did.
Priscilla breathed properly and rocked her body correctly and soon Cole’s massive organ was well within her rectal passive. Her gasp of pleasure said it all. Once Cole was comfortably in her and starting a love-rhythm, Priscilla’s bleats and growls told the story. Both lovers increased the pace sufficiently and very soon there was a hot, sexual banter going on between this frantically passionate couple.
“Oh please Master Cole, my man-lover, please screw your slut and fill me up with your seed. Make me your bitch-whore Master Cole. Please, oh! Oh, Master Cole, you’re coming. Oh that feels so nice and warm. Oh how I wish your spunk was filling my ovaries and making your baby!” Priscilla screamed.
“Oh, Master Cole, I’m squirting. Oh, that feels so nice. Oh what nice cool chills and warm rushes I’m getting. Oh I love this!” Priscilla cried. Priscilla would still occasionally squirt a small amount of milky white liquid from the useless little stub at her crotch when she reached sexual completeness.
Priscilla was now sobbing. Cole held her. He looked at her. “Are you okay? Priscilla, answer me. Are you okay honey? Why are you crying? And please, during these intimate moments, call me Cole. I promise I won’t tell mother,” Cole teased.
“Yes Cole. Yes Cole my love. I’ll call you Cole. I’m crying because I’m so very happy. I can’t believe how fulfilled I feel, because I’ve finally been taken by a real man. Oh, that was so joy-filled. Oh, Cole my lover, you have made me feel so complete,” Priscilla gasped.
I decided at that moment to turn the big screen and the security system off. I’d seen what I’d wanted to see. I’d seen enough. I’d watched my son screw my sissy-maid. The sissy-maid I had formed, shaped and created thru my own deviousness, womanly strengths, and desires. The maid I’d finally taken for myself as my very own lover.
And now, I was certain I was going to be saying goodbye to her as my own personal maid and as my lover. But, I knew where I could get another if I so desired.
Chapter VI: Madame Vivian’s Aftermath
But she was her mother’s daughter and our beauty did not come from being dainty little morsels. Shayla and I were womanly. We had breasts and we had hips. We had strong, nearly Amazonian shapes. We were, robust, athletic and our beauty was in our strength. That’s why real men like my late husband Desmond and my son-in-law Eduardo were attracted to us.
I tried to picture my absolutely, amazingly, womanly daughter standing beside the long ago disappeared Peter and I could not. Only a manly hunk like Eduardo could possibly complete the perfect picture this handsome couple made.
During the wedding and reception Priscilla performed wonderfully as the hostess, seating people, coordinating with the caterer and serving me and my closest friend’s and family. My son Cole could not take his eyes off her and she was constantly saying, “Not now Cole, I’m working!”
During the week prior to the wedding and the week after, Cole could not keep his hands off of her. Thankfully they slept together in his room downstairs. By the time Cole drove back to Atlanta we had an agreement in principle. He would be returning in thirty days to work at our Florida headquarters in Tampa.
He would be moving into the guest house at the estate. He asked if Priscilla could accompany him there and I agreed. I had to decide if I wanted to replace Priscilla. After all, I’d gotten used to being waited on. I’d also gotten used to having my way sexually with the sissy.
I consulted with my dear friend and Sister, Phaedra DeVaughn as well as my mentor Grand High Priestess Alana. They both told me the same thing. There was a very nice crop of sissy maids doing post-grad work at the Winthrop Academy in the Florida Keys.
Most of these aspiring maids and Lady’s Companions had gone unclaimed at graduation, however. “Don’t concern yourself with that, Vivian. There’s some very good candidates there. It’s mostly a supply and demand situation,” Phaedra said.
“Some sissies prefer a female owner/employer, only. These days males are the biggest buyers of graduating sissies. So those who don’t want a man to purchase their tuition have to wait,” explained Priestess Alana.
“Basically the price for one of these maids is the cost it took to educate them plus 10%. Unless of course the student was considered stellar, then it could go as high as 25%,” I was told by the Headmistress in charge of the facility.
Naturally, as I have impeccable taste and a natural eye for a quality sissy, the girl I chose, Bambi Denise, was right at the top of her class. Bambi was gorgeous and I can only describe her as “Priscilla, with Platinum blonde, spiral curls.” She was perfect in all aspects. Priscilla had spoiled me and I was hoping Bambi could even more.
I would be expecting a lot from Priscilla over the next month. First there was the cleaning, airing and redecoration of the guest house. Of course I contracted the work out, but I expected Priscilla to assist me with the supervision of the work.
Then I charged Priscilla with the training of Bambi Denise. I wanted Bambi aware of my preferences as to her apparel and appearance. I also wanted Priscilla to explain to Bambi my sexual predilections. During Brandy’s first evening at bedtime, I had Priscilla give her an enema and refit her with a larger butt plug.
I was privy to overhearing the conversation. “This plug seems exceptionally large, Miss Priscilla,” Bambi whined.
“No dear. The plug you were wearing was quite tiny. You’ll be thanking me. Just wait and see how your very cute behind is going to wiggle amazingly, Bambi. Plus, you’ll be prepared when Madame uses her dildo on you for the first time,” Priscilla explained.
With the decorating complete and the clothing Cole shipped from Atlanta put away, I told Priscilla it was time for her to move in.
“Let’s go look things over, Priscilla. We’ll do a little walk thru. Notice here on the second floor I gave you and Cole separate bedrooms. This is the way the very wealthy do it. You will normally sleep apart unless both of you want sex. The you decide which bed you want to make love in,” I explained.
My son Cole drove back to Florida on schedule. Priscilla was there waiting for him with a glam hairdo, in a flattering housedress, apron and tall heels. It took Cole all of three months to propose marriage and they agreed to another June wedding at the estate.
By then I had one grandchild, a boy, from Eduardo and Shayla. The wedding between Cole was very well-attended and a quite beautiful affair. I don’t mind admitting this. Priscilla Collette made an even more beautiful bride than my Shayla. After all though, I molded Priscilla to my exacting standards.
Oh yes, how could I possibly forget? And dangling from Priscilla’s delicate ears were a beautiful set of Turquoise earrings I’d given her, made from synthetic turquoise stones, and her surgically removed testicles. She loves them. Maybe one day I’ll tell her?
Chapter VII: Priscilla’s Tells Her Tale of Love and Devotion
I knew by now how Cole loved my fussy, frilly, girly, early to mid, 1960’s Sandra Dee, Hollywood Actress, housewife look. I always wanted to please Cole. To me, Cole was exactly what I had always needed in my life. He was an exceptionally strong manly man.
Cole was everything I could never, ever be. He was not only strong and manly, he was very masculine, decisive, and a real bread-winner. He would care for me and love me for the weak-willed, girly, feminine, delicate, helpless creature that I was. To be held in those strong, muscular arms with my head against his hairy, manly chest, was absolute bliss.
To wrap my soft, pretty hands around that massive male organ of his gave me so much comfort. To have his penis inside of me squirting his hot, male juices throughout me was chilling and tranquil. When it was in my mouth I just wanted to swallow him up.
Madame Vivian, Cole’s mother, had once said to me, “You’ve become such a soppy, sissy girl, Priscilla, we’ll soon have to find a man to care for and protect you, darling. You’re much too frilly, fussy, weak-willed and indecisive to do that for yourself, my dear girl. You need guidance and direction and an extraordinarily masculine man must be the one to provide that.”
She was so very right and I was exceptionally fortunate to find Cole and now have him in my life as my protector and comforter. After having my hair done at the salon, I spent the evening sleeping in hair rollers and face cream. I only removed the facial masque and curlers when Cole texted me that he’d be at the cottage in less than two hours. After removing these wonderful aids to my beauty I sat at my vanity in my bra, panties and genital tuck, applying my makeup and doing my hair.
I really didn’t have much to tuck any longer. Not after Madame had decided to have me castrated. She was only doing what was the very best for me. She always did. I’m so much better off without my bothersome testicles. I have asked Cole if he ever wanted me to have the rest of my genitalia fashioned into a pussy just for him but he told me to wait.
I really only have a small stub remaining that was once a penis along with a very empty ball sac. Those however will one day serve the purpose of making my vagina, hopefully. I continued my makeover, putting hose over my waxed legs, and slithering into a form fitting ruffled sweater dress.
After putting dangling earrings in my three sets of piercing holes and stepping into four-inch sandal style heels, I did my hair. I decided on a very sleek, French Bun, updo. With my makeup vivid and inviting, I was now ready to greet my man. I waited with patiently and finally heard the purring engine of Cole’s Mercedes’ sports car.
I minced to the doorway, a glass of Bourbon in my hand and waited. Just before he arrived at the doorway I opened it. Cole only carried two pieces of luggage. Most of his clothing, papers and personal belongings had been shipped to the cottage.
Madame had seen to the putting away of everything except for the clothing. I saw to the dry cleaning and pressing of Cole’s apparel and to putting it away in dressers and closets. As I opened the door, I smiled seductively, especially with my mascara enhanced eyes. I stood with one hip cocked slightly.
“Darling, after such a long drive could I interest you in a drink and a foot rub?” I asked, kissing him softly on his lips.
“Yes, definitely!” Cole exclaimed, setting down his luggage and strolling into the den.
“Sit here darling. Here’s your drink. I have the massage oil right there,” I added. Right away I removed his shoes and socks, knelt on a towel and began to oil my lover’s feet. Cole threw his head back with an, “Aah!”
“The traffic was quite busy both ways. Up to Atlanta and back down to here,” Cole said.
“Oh darling I wish I could have been there. I could have played with your balls and sucked your penis to relax you on the drive,” I said as Cole laughed.
“You are a tease. Before we eat, I want to see the bedroom, or is it bedrooms?” Cole asked.
“You mother insisted on separate bedrooms for sleeping, only. She said that was the way her social set always did it. Of course we have to be in the same room to make love. Your’s or mine? I’ll always give you the choice of course. But, I’d love to take you to mine, right now dear,” I cooed.
Cole wanted to shower but I wouldn’t let him. He even said something, jokingly, of course, about having to mess up my hair and makeup.
‘That’s the fun of being a sexy, girly-girl. I make myself pretty to entice you. You make a mess of me when you ravage me. Then I get to play with my hair and makeup while I get pretty again,” I laughed.
We fell upon the bed and began to undress one another. I was down to my bra, panty and hose by the time he was naked. I fell upon his cock. Yummy!
“Oh, how I have missed this. Let me look at it and lick this monster!” I giggled as I took hold of it with my hands and lips, taking his large penis into my mouth. Cole is an adventurous and creative lover. At times he wants me kneeling on the bed sucking his cock. He also may want to sit in a chair.
Then I will kneel on a pillow or towel on the floor to suck him. It’s the same when he wants me on my knees when he is standing up to get a blow job. Up until this time he had screwed me missionary style and “doggie” style, just as the sissy French Poodle I am. I love missionary style as I can wrap my legs tightly around him while he screws me.
As I got him very close and erect, licking and sucking him he stopped me. “Get yourself lubed baby. Lubricate me also. Now stand beside the bed? Good. Now slowly lower yourself down over my cock while I set here on the bedside,” he ordered.
“Oh Cole, my sensuous lover. You always come up with a new way to Fuck me! Oh, this feels so good. My gosh Cole, you’re hard as steel!” I gushed as I slowly lowered myself onto his rock-like shaft.
When his large penis was well inside of me, Cole took me by my waist and would lift me up and then lower me down while he slowly pumped his penis in and out of me. It was so very sexy and sensuous I wanted to scream.
Once I caught onto his rhythmic pace he released my waist and cupped me around my tits. He squeezed and kneaded my tits while he fucked my ass. I was really getting hot now, as was Cole. Sometimes when Cole screwed me I felt I could go on forever. I would make my ass clench snugly around his rock-hard cock simply to spur him on more.
Neither of us, however could keep this pace going too much longer and I could feel Cole getting closer. Finally I felt his fattened cock expand and begin to spurt his steamy hot seed up inside of me. At moments like this I wished terribly that I had a uterus to accept his seed and turn into his baby, but that was not to be.
Even so, the feeling of his sperm going deep inside of me just gave me the warmest feeling! So warm and so gooey and gushy that my little stub of a clitoris would leak and I would have the most introspective chilling and shuddering climax that made me feel so very girlish and fulfilled.
Laying in Cole’s arms and being kissed by him after sex was the most precious feeling on earth. Later I cooked Cole an early supper, we both showered and went to bed early.
At breakfast Sunday morning Cole said to me, “By the way, on the way up the long drive to the cottage I passed mother’s house and saw a tallish, slender girl I thought was you, coming out of mother’s front doorway.”
“Except she had silver blonde ringlets like a little girl. Who was that?” Cole asked.
“You likely saw Bambi, your mother’s new maid. She’s my replacement. She has platinum blonde hair and it’s been done up in a spiral perm,” I added.
“How on earth did my mother find a replacement maid so quickly in this day and age?” Cole asked.
Hesitantly, I said, “She belongs to a ladies’ group where all the members believe in having maids and ladies’ companions. They know of a school, in the Florida Keys, where special girls like me are trained to be hairdressers, maids, Lady’s companions, housekeepers, concubines, mistresses and even housewives. She hired Bambi there.”
“That is truly phenomenal. When you say Special girl, such as you, do you mean a girl that was once a boy, or is still is a boy? So what is Bambi?” Cole asked.
“I think she is still a boy, as far as her genitalia are concerned. She was, the last time I saw her genitals,” I remarked, shyly as Cole nodded.
Cole soon forgot all about Bambi, sissy-girls and anything else similar. He settled into the routine of working at the family business headquarters in Tampa. And I simply immersed myself in the routine of trying to be the perfect housekeeper for Cole.
He wanted me in bed with him every evening and so I went to his boudoir. Which of course meant, no hair curlers or face cream on. Fresh lipstick and a lubricated rectum only, ready for lovemaking.
Once Cole was off to work, unless I was going out for the day, I would put my hair up in rollers, put on face cream and clean house with a large butt plug inserted. When he returned from work, there was a fresh drink waiting for him, my hair was done, I was in heels, hose, dress and full makeup, with a hot meal ready.
He loved it. And then that evening the lovemaking would begin again. Of course we frequently had Madame over for dinner and drinks. One evening, two months after Cole had returned from Atlanta, after dinner, Madame asked, “Cole, this Sunday would it be possible for Priscilla to accompany Bambi and I to an all-ladies brunch and luncheon at my club?”
“Of course mother. You’d love to attend wouldn’t you Priscilla? It would give you a break and get you out of the house. You need that sort of diversion and socialization darling,” Cole insisted.
“Yes Madame. That would be wonderful?” I said, glancing at the calendar and realizing we were on the cusp of the Autumn equinox. Then I wondered?
“Priscilla darling. I think you can dispense with calling me Madame at this juncture. You should be calling me Mater Vivian, or even Mummy. Shouldn’t she Cole? Why she’s practically family at this point,” Vivian insisted.
“If you prefer she call you Mummy, I’m sure she will agree to do that mother,” Cole said absentmindedly.
“Yes of course Mater, or Mummy,” I smiled.
“Then why not walk your new Mummy outside. I’ll be going to the house and taking a hot bath. We’ll discuss attire, makeup and hair, for the brunch, Priscilla,” said Mother Vivian as she took my arm.
When we were outside, Mummy motioned for me to close the door. “I had Bambi fixed quite nicely by Doctor Elaine Klein a few weeks ago, darling. Bambi wasn’t thrilled, but just like you she has adjusted and is now comfortable as a properly gelded Lady’s Maid. It’s only natural, for a sissy, after all. And I wanted you there when I presented her to the Sisterhood and dedicated her to Freya as a new Castrate,” Vivian explained.
“Well, thank you Mummy, I’m honored you’d want me present for that,” I smiled.
“I know you’ll enjoy it. Let’s hope she is as pretty as you and wins the Castrato Princess award. So dress to the nines to impress my friends, Priscilla. It will be a lovely event as always,” Mummy smiled as she wiggled her fingers in a “goodbye” wave.
As I had been instructed, I looked my fussiest and girlish best as I traipsed to Mummy’s home on the Pendergast estate, that lovely Autumn Sunday, where we would be celebrating Bambi’s recent castration, along with the castration of four other Cassandra sissies.
My “Inverted Lob” fell to below my shoulders in front, and was tapered and properly shaped at my nape in back. I’d put in rollers to have a loose curl around the longer edges. I’d spent a lot of time on my makeup, ending everything with a crimson, Cupid’s bow around my plump lips.
I stood on four-inch heeled scrappy sandals. My white, skin-tight mini-dress nearly showed off my lace panty. My tits were almost popping out of my too-small uplift bra. I rang the bell at Mummy’s front door. It was answered by a slightly embarrassed, flushed and blushing Bambi.
I gave her a hug and a light kiss on her lips. “Hi doll. You look great! Ready for your big day?” I smiled.
“I guess so? Madame isn’t quite ready. I’m a little bit of a mess this morning so she doesn’t want me to help her,” Bambi sighed.
“A mess? What is it?” I asked.
“Did she tell you what she had done with me at the GYN clinic? You know why we’re going to the Cassandra Temple today, don’t you?” Bambi asked.
“Oh Bambi honey, of course I do. Come here and let me give you another big hug and kiss. Yes, Mummy Vivian told me she had your tiny useless nuts clipped off. Honey it’s nothing. And if you serve a Cassandra Madame it’s just about inevitable, baby,” I smiled.
“And it really helps quite a bit on our way to becoming much better sissy-maids. Testosterone confuses our bodies and minds and sometimes makes us think we are boys. And look at how much nicer your boobs and hair look now?” I smiled.
“You’re much better off being rid of those worthless balls Bambi. Trust me. Oh come here honey. There, baby, everything will be fine,” I said squeezing her tightly to me.
“Honey, you are walking so pretty with an absolutely fantastic wiggle in your butt, love!” I exclaimed.
“Well, I should be. Madame inserted just about the largest butt plug into my anus that she possibly could have found, anywhere. I just don’t know what all the pomp and circumstance is over having a castrated sissy-maid?” Bambi simpered, puzzled.
“It’s their thing. The Cassandra Sisterhood thing. They like showing us off with our slender waists, our pointy tits, and our large butts. Plus they want everyone to know that they have the power over us by turning us into a Castrato. She’s got that big plug in you, because if you’re named the Castrato Princess today, she’s planning on screwing you all night,” I explained.
Indeed, Mummy, was quite proud and happy as she led Bambi into the Temple on a leash. And she was quite pleased to tell all of her sisters that I was now her son Cole’s housekeeper and concubine. And when the garland of “Pansies” was placed over Bambi’s permed curls, Mummy squeezed her plump butt, to let her know she was in for an evening with the double-ended dildo.
Chapter VIII: Priscilla’s Denouement
Yes, Cole and I were married. He proposed to me about a month after Bambi was dedicated to the Goddess Freya. We would be married the following June at the estate. There was some murmuring among Mummy’s high-society friends that were not in the Sisterhood. After all, I was supposed to be Mummy’s niece and that would make Cole and I cousins.Mummy and Shayla took care of that, explaining that I was in actuality, Mummy’s much younger cousin, nee-niece, which made Cole and I third-cousins which could be considered acceptable. High-Priestess Alana was the Justice-of-the-Peace and wore a suit, instead of her Cassandra robes.
Just prior to the wedding Mummy came into the room where Alicia was finishing my hair and makeup. “You look so lovely, my child. I’m so proud of what you have become! Here darling I had a set of Turquoise earrings made for you. You need something blue to wear today,” Mummy smiled.
“Oh Mummy Vivian, these are lovely! Oh, I’ll wear these all the time!” I exclaimed.
“Oh, I hope you do darling. I feel like those earrings should always be a part of you,” Mummy smiled as she fitted them in my newest set of piercing holes.
As I walked down the aisle towards the altar where my handsome Cole was standing, the earrings tickled the sides of my swan-like neck. I hoped these earrings would always remind me, with every breathe I took and every step I would take, that I was always taking one further step in my journey to becoming a fulfilled female.
Ended
i always wondered if the sissies of the Sisterhood were trans women or not, and if they would someday be honored to become full women and respected members of the Sisterhood. Or if they would be kept as servants
ReplyDeleteor only a selected number of them would get that honor? Or any?
"Yes, any of the Castrates that have been dedicated to the Goddess Freya may become full females at their Cassandra husband or Master's discretion." -From Priscilla Gay Bouffant (via email)
DeleteFor the most part no sissy is forced into womanhood, but may request it. However, some sissies are forcibly gelded in extreme circumstances.Either is considered an honor though.
DeleteOh my, that was wonderful, a sissy dream come true! To be owned so completely, made to be so feminine and pretty, allowed the honor of worship, and then castrated to be the best sissy you can be? So dreamy! All the salon details were lovely, and the double-ended dildo scene was just super yummy. :)
ReplyDeleteBobbi darling! Such lovely things to say! you are so very, very sweet, my pet. You're adorable! I can't thank you enough, princess! Yes, Prissy indeed finally found herself thru a Lady of the Sisterhood.
DeletePoor Bambi. I don't think she knew she was going to be castrated and was quite upset over losing her little balls
ReplyDelete