NEW! Room with a View

A Cassandra Sisterhood Story, of Love and Submission, by Miss Priscilla Gay Bouffant
I’d begun to question my emotions, my sanity and my masculinity. What was happening? And why, I asked?

Chapter I: My “Boudoir” for Heaven’s Sake?

    I’d nearly always taken showers, rarely baths. And certainly if I took a bath, the tub would not be overflowing with scented bubbles. Nor would it be heavily perfumed with the ladylike aromas of Lavender and Camomile.
    But, here I sat, fresh from the above described bath tub, smelling like a bouquet of freshly cut flowers. Plus I was now sitting in front of my vanity, in my femininely appointed boudoir. Did I just really write those words? My “boudoir” and my vanity?
    Since when do twenty-one year old males sleep in boudoirs? I again looked around the room and took in all the pastel shades. The pinks, the yellows, and the soft baby-blue frilled coverlet on the four-poster bed.
    And my hair? Or at the very least, what I could now see of my most girlish hair. My ginger blonde hair, which was now under a turban wrapped pink towel, at tightly tied at the nape of my freshly, salon-shaved neck. The slight fringe of bangs that did protrude to one side, showed the Ginger tinted tresses with the blonde ombre which the the hairdresser had just put in.
    I looked away quickly and then down to my feet. Oh no! My “pretty” feet and “well-shaped” legs. My toes were painted a burnt-crimson hue and my smooth, soft, freshly waxed legs glistened with the flowery moisturizer I’d just applied. They hadn’t only done my hair in a brand new cut, stylization and color. No. I wished that was all they’d modified.
    Additionally they had painted my fingers the same burnt-crimson shade. Except for the tips of course. The tips were a pearl-white. But that was how a French-tipped manicure was supposed to look, the manicurist had explained to me as if I were a ten-year-old girl.
    Inevitably I now detected the ever-present clicking made by a pair of high-heels in the hallway just outside my boudoir. I say ever-present, as in a house full of well-groomed, properly dressed females everyone, including me, wore high-heels.
    The only reasons I could see the result of my recent pedicure was because I wasn’t wearing stockings just yet, and my high-heeled bedroom slippers were designed with open-toes. The clicking of the heels sounded pronounced, determined and assertive. Was it my Fiancee, Margot? Margot DeVaughn? Indeed it was.
    After but a perfunctory tapping at the door, Margot entered, smiling.  “Good morning, Kimberley darling! Oh my but you do smell so lovely today, my dear? Did Bianca assist you with your bath, this morning, kitten? And who tied such a lovely bow in your turban wrap, at the nape of your chicly shaven neck?” Margot asked.
    “No, Bianca did not bathe me. I requested some privacy this morning. And I tied the bow and wrapped my own hair,” I said somewhat distractedly. I didn’t want to tell Margot why I didn’t want Bianca to bathe me.
    Whenever I achieved one of my frequent erections during a bath, Bianca would roll her eyes and take a soapy washcloth. Then, with her right hand, wrap it around my cock. Then she would massage my balls with her other hand, all the while manipulating the hand holding the washcloth, with an up and down motion.
    She’d do it in a very mechanical, businesslike fashion while looking sternly into my eyes. I wouldn’t last over 15 seconds before I’d discharge a load of sperm into the washcloth. She’d then shake her head disgustedly. It was such a very shameful and degrading procedure I’d want to cry.
    “Hmm. So how do you feel this morning precious? Here, let’s plug in these hot rollers, and prepare your tresses for setting, with some moisturizing pomade,” said Monica.
    I nodded, tearfully. All the feminizing effects of the salon, the boudoir, and the clothing were quite telling. I began to shake and sob.
    “Kimberley darling, you seem so distracted and terribly melancholy, dear. Kimberley, are you crying, yet again? Darling, what is the matter? Have you taken your medications yet this morning? You haven’t have you? Kimberley, how many times are we going to discuss this?” Margot asked, throwing her hands in the air and walking to a small refrigerator to dispense my meds and find some water to wash the pills down with.
    I hated being called Kimberley. Yes, it was my legal name but my family had always used the less feminine, “Kim” to address me. Now, Margot, Bianca, who was the maid assigned to me, Margot’s Aunt Matilda and Auntie Matilda’s lover, Anastasia Von Heiden, all called me Kimberley.
    Or worse yet, “Miss Kimberley” when they felt like teasing me, which could be quite often. “Auntie” Matilda Channing was a very sought after Gynecological Reconstructive Surgeon, immensely popular with the local Entertainment set. Which is how she met Anastasia, a young, twice nominated, Golden Globe actress and acclaimed Jazz singer.
    The Laurel Canyon mansion they owned together was measured at over 10,000 square feet and valued at over 12 million. They were the latest “hot” couple on the Red Carpets. The “Forty-something, Surgeon to the Stars” with the very distant, hard to interview, “I want to be alone, bad girl” of screen and song.
    Margot returned with two pills. One was a capsule filled with white powder. The other was an oval shaped light green tablet. She handed me a an eight-ounce glass of sickeningly sweet, pink liquid.
   “Don’t just sip the liquid Kimberley. It’s an anti-acid. Drink it all. When your nervous system acts up it affects your tummy. That’s better. Drink it all down,” she said, taking the glass from me and then removing the turban wrapped towel from my hair.
    She then massaged my hands in her’s with Aloe Vera gel, as I blubbered uncontrollably.
    “Oh, my dear sweet Kimberley. You’ve become so very sensitive these days. Maybe too sensitive, but it is a good sign that you’re softening to the feelings of those around you. Let me hug you. There, there my angel, things will always work out,” Margot assured me.
    “Jocelyne at Salon Fabulous, did such a fantastic job on your coloring, cutting and stylization. You’re so fortunate Kimberly. That beauty makeover, including your waxing and nails was over $500.00 without the gratuity. Aunt Matilda gladly paid it because she knows you really need the R&R and the pampering right about now,” Margot said as she massaged the perfumed pomade moisturizer into my wet hair. 
    The haircut was outrageously feminine. Though my shoulder length hair was now much shorter, my tresses were extremely more girlish. When stylized yesterday, my locks were swept back, and sprayed into a high-lift pompadour. Then a sort of wispy faux-bang was allowed to fall over my right eye.
    The rear portion was closely shaved and tapered into a Duck-tail. The color was a shimmering Ginger, with the aforementioned, blonde ombre. Certainly not quite the color any male would have his hair done in, was it now? I could barely recall any longer why I was allegedly “convalescing” with Aunt Matilda and Anastasia?
    I knew I’d had a nervous breakdown after a bout with heavy drinking and some drug usage, along with an illicit affair with a married female performer, Alana Regal. I was a studio musician that had wanted to “spread his wings” and I’d went on the road with a touring, married chanteuse. We’d had a lengthy affair and gotten much too heavily involved into partying.
    When I was finally released from a treatment facility I was sent to another “recovery” center for the mentally disturbed. There I was kept on medications and herbal supplements as well as placed under intensive one-on-one psychiatric treatments and therapies. Margot and I had even undergone some “couples” counseling.
    Now, I was at the elegant home of Margot’s Aunt Matilda or “Tillie” and her young, petulant Lesbian lover, Anastasia. It had been impressed on me that I still needed rest to rebuild my strength and I should stay on the meds and supplements until I was released from both a physician and a psychiatrist’s care.
    As Margot rubbed the moisturizer into my scalp I became very relaxed and drowsy. “So did you take your supplements yet Kimberley? No? Oh please Kimberley? Not yet again? Wait here? No wonder your Aureoles continue to itch, ache and swell? You’re not caring for yourself,” Margot complained as I again sipped the pink drink to wash down the large handful of numerous herbal supplements.
    With the still warm hot rollers tightly wound into my conditioned scalp, I could certainly sniff the scent of the Honeysuckle infused moisturizing hair pomade. Margot now insisted on helping me dress. I removed the satin bath robe I was wearing and to Margot’s obvious displeasure I displayed an erection poking against my panty-brief.
    “Oh Kimberley. This is why Aunt Tillie and I prefer Bianca to bathe you. She will take care of things such as an unsightly erection. Well you’re lucky I’m still your fiancee. Take off your panty-brief and lay on your bed,” Margot ordered.
   “I can assure you, you’ll be wearing a girdle under your slacks to brunch today. I’m not risking another embarrassment with an erection displayed in a panty brief,” she said, shaking her head. Reaching for my penis with a satin cloth in the palm of her hand, she unceremoniously lubricated me with her left hand, now covered in a surgical glove.
    Then she proceeded to squeeze my balls while she pumped my penis. Her ministrations seemed uncaring, mechanical and distant. It was nothing like when we’d made love in the past. When I squirted my sperm in very short order she also mocked me.
    “Oh my. Aren’t we quick-like-a-bunny, on the trigger these days, Kimberley? You must have made quite an impression on Alana Regal, didn’t you Kimberly? Is it any wonder she’s back with her husband at present and deliriously happy?”  Margot spat facetiously.
    I was crushed, emotionally. I’d just been masturbated by my fiancee as if she were conducting a professional hospital procedure. I’d lasted every bit of 30 seconds. Then she took out her frustration upon me by ridiculing my carnal stamina. She roughly pulled the girdle up my legs and over my hips, tucking my penis into a pocket inside the girdle front.
    Then she pointed to the lacing bar. “You know what needs to be done,” Margot said.
    “Do I really need to wear one of those restrictive garments?” I asked.
    “Yes. Until we can find a chiropractor that makes house calls the corset is the best bet for your back issues, Kimberley. Plus, you know Aunt Tillie loves you with a slim waist,” Margot added.
    “Can’t we just go to a Chiro’s office? And why do I always have to please your aunt, anyway, Margot?” I asked, knowing I may have overstepped my bounds.
    “Oh goodness. Now we need to get you something for your memory, don’t we? Do you recall checking into the treatment center and being searched by their security staff? Probably not? Well Kimberley, your pockets were stuffed to overflowing, with dime bags of heroin. They reported you to the police. You’re still on probation and house arrest Kimberley,” she shuddered.
    “To even take you to the beauty salon this week we had to clear it with your very amused probation officer, Katherine Holmes. There is a lot of red tape involved. For a series of visits to the chiropractor it simply isn’t worth it. And by the way, Katherine asked for before and after photos of you from the salon,” Margot said laughingly.
    “And as for my aunt, you unappreciative little bastard. I’ll have you know, she’s our sole source of financial support right now. We’re flat broke from your philandering, drug use and boozing. Between the court costs, hospitalization, treatment and mental rehabilitation, not to mention your meds and supplements I had to raid my trust fund,” Margot said, exasperated.
   “My Aunt Matilda froze the assets of my trust fund to keep me from wiping it out. I can’t touch it at all right now. Additionally, the courts gave her Power-of-Attorney over your assets at the recommendation of the prosecutor and your psychiatrist,” Margot said in obvious frustration.
    “You’re very fortunate that Auntie hired you the best attorney possible. You do realize you’d still be behind bars, wondering who to pick as a protector and boyfriend, don’t you, my pretty one?” Margot spat to my eternal shame.
    “My Aunt Tillie is paying for everything, at this juncture. So if she likes you looking svelte and slender, you’re going to be svelte and slender, just for her, my pretty, little doll. Do you get me kitten?” Margot sneered.
    ‘Yes. I’m terribly ashamed Margot. I’ve made a total disaster of things, haven’t I, darling?” I whimpered.
    “Yes you have. Our house was going into foreclosure. Luckily for us, Aunt Matilda and Anastasia were co-signees. They took over the payments and are renting it out for us. But please save your self-pitying apologies for later. You can be such a drama queen when you get like that,” Margot added, again shaking her head.
    “Now please? Let’s get this corset on you and finish dressing you. We’re expected at brunch at 10 AM sharp,” she said.
    She snugged the corset tightly. Then she touched my pecs and I jumped. My aureoles were still very sore, quite itchy and prickly tender. They were also swollen. She shook her head. “This is why you need to continue the supplements. Unless you get the dosage up high enough you’ll never get rid of that discomfort. You need to listen to my aunt Matilda, Kimberley. She’s a surgeon. Remember?” Margot scolded.
    “Yes, I’ll do better Margot,” I said.
    “Your going to have to wear a Cami at this stage. Any top I put you in, well, those fat tit nipples will poke right thru and look awful,” Margot added as she slipped a Camisole over my head. The feeling of the cool satin gave me chills.
    I worked my way into a pair of tight, black, spandex slacks. Then a sleeveless, V-neck top in a blush-rose shade. Finally she put a black-velvet, bolero, shrug on me, to give me a dressy look for brunch. Her aunt would like that, I was certain.
   She took out the hot rollers and brushed my hair into the same back-swept stylization the hairdresser had given me. After heavily spraying my sleek pompadour she mussed some bangs to give me a slightly windswept look. The Hairdresser had called the style, “The Portia D” after Portia De Rossi the stunning Lesbian.
    Portia had worn the same “do” at the last Globe Awards and it had become all the rage. Lastly, Margot pointed to the vanity and said, “Sit down now, and don’t you dare argue with me. Whether you like it or not, my aunt insists that everyone in this house will wear makeup, and that includes you, princess,” she frowned.
   “I know you hate it Kimberley but the method I use to apply it, doesn’t make you look that feminine, at all. Do you know how many straight, male actors in Hollywood won’t leave the house without putting on cosmetics? We need to start getting you out in the sun too. At the very least you need to stroll around the grounds and get a tan by the pool,” Margot said.
    “You’re getting so pale. I’m only going to do a soft, morning look. Nothing like a glam evening look. Just some beige foundation, pink blush and shadow along with a nice apricot lipstick. Auntie will love it,” she smiled.
    Indeed Aunt Matilda did. “Oh, Kimberley, you look so gorgeous!” Matilda exclaimed, as she kissed me on the lips, noticeably  transferring some of her heavy red lipstick to my mouth.
    “I adore the bolero shrug. Such a touch of dressiness. You both look lovely,” Matilda said.
    “Thank you Aunt Matilda,” I smiled.
    “Excuse me, Kimberley? But what did we discuss in the very recent past? Until you and my niece Margot marry, I am not your Auntie. Now who am I and what is my Kimberley supposed to call me?” Matilda asked, one eyebrow raised.   
    “I’d forgotten. I do apologize. Please forgive me, Mummy?” I said.
    “That’s better Kimberley. Who am I again?” Matilda asked.
    “You’re my Mummy,” I said.
    “Very good Kimberley. Let’s brunch,” Matilda smiled as she winked at me.
    The brunch was very nice. Even Anastasia who could be so very pouty and moody, unless she was the center of attention, was chirpy and very friendly. At one point, when I got up to get a refill on my saffron tea, Margot came up behind me and put her hand on my butt and squeezed lightly.
    “Well I am certainly proud of you, Kimberley. You’ve been so sweet and you even touched up your lipstick when I prompted you. When you make me proud like this I feel very sexy. After brunch when you return to your boudoir I’m going to come in and demonstrate to you just how proud I am of you,” she added.
    She then moved her hand from my butt to my crotch and squeezed gently. It was true, I’d smeared my lipstick with a napkin. Margot had frowned and motioned for me to use the lipstick tube in my clutch purse to freshen my lipstick. I’d practiced this before but had never done it with three other ladies looking on.
    I’d paused, took out a compact and the tube of lipstick. And as casually as possible I circled my lips very deliberately, puckering when I’d completed the task and then checked the results carefully. I then closed my compact with a click and capped the lipstick tube.
    I’d blushed when I realized Margot, Anastasia and Matilda were watching me smiling. I guess at that moment I decidedly became one of the girls? Being accepted so well at the brunch and being a part of the conversation helped my damaged self-esteem quite a bit.
    Out of the clear blue I asked, “Mummy, could I help in anyway with the cleanup?”
    It was a real show-stopper. Margot, Mummy and Anastasia looked back and forth at each other. For a moment I thought I’d said something wrong. Margot stood up and walked up to me and pulled me to my feet.
    “Oh, that was such a very sweet thing to ask, Kimberley. I’m going to give you a big kiss on the mouth for being such a good boy,” Margot said, as our lips, mouths and tongues met. Our lipsticks mingled and for the first time I enjoyed the taste of another girl’s lipstick mixing with mine.
    Did I think of myself as a girl at this point in time? No, I don’t think so? But being applauded by the other ladies in the household for my offer to clean up after the brunch meant a lot to me and my shattered, confused psyche. As Margot and I smilingly separated from our kiss, Mummy spoke up.
    “Kimberley, honey. Look at Mummy and listen to her. That was very special of you to offer to help with the brunch cleanup. I will tell Bianca and Sierra our maids, that you volunteered. But no, that is their job darling. But Mummy appreciates that very much, my good little Mummy’s boy,” smiled Aunt Matilda as she walked over to me and embraced me.
    “Why don’t you two spend some quality time together today, Margot?” Mummy asked.
    “Yes, Aunt Tillie, I was planning just that. Come along Kimberley, say goodbye to Mummy and Anastasia, dear. We have some catching up to do,” said my fiancee Margot as she escorted me back to my boudoir. As soon as we were in my room, she closed, locked and bolted the door.
    She embraced me and we French kissed for a long time, exploring each other’s bodies. As we removed each other’s clothing, she touched my genital area. We fell into my bed, kissing, licking and fondling each other. We lay side by side, under the bedsheets breathing heavy and sighing.
    I began to feel so much in love with Margot, just as it had been before all of the troubles had begun. We looked into each other’s eyes and she spoke dreamily to me. I simply wanted to forgot the past completely. But that was not to be her desire at all.
    “It will take some time for us to get back to where we were, Kimberley. We both have a long period of rebuilding and recuperation in our future together. Especially you my love. You have some very dark periods and places of your recent past to explore and discover with your psychiatrist, Doctor Helene Ritchie. There will be places and times you won’t want to return to in your past,” Margot warned.
    “But, you will have to face them, if you truly want to heal. That’s the truth of it my dear. If you are afraid to go to those places alone, I can attend those sessions with you to hold your hand and comfort you. There will be fears, crying, mystery and the tendency to turn away. However there can be no turning back. We can face everything together,” Margot added, as she touched the side of my face and kissed me.
    “Together we are stronger than apart, my love. You must always trust me and my instincts. Do you understand me Kimberley?” Margot asked as she faced me and embraced me tightly.
    I held on tightly to the warm loving body of this very strong, confident female. I felt so weak and began to cry. I sobbed. She smothered my face with kisses and squeezed my penis and then my testicles. “Yes, Margot. I understand you and will trust only you. You will be my strength and give me the spirit I just don’t have. Oh please hold me Margot, I am so frightened?” I whimpered.
    “Oh my dear, but you must also trust Doctor Helene, as well as Mummy Matilda. Don’t forget them. You must be as open and truthful with them as you are with me. Do you understand and agree with me, Kim-Kim?” Margot asked.
    “Yes, I understand and agree Margot. So please hold me tightly and protect me Margot?” I asked.
    “Of course I’ll hold you, my precious kitten. Mum-Mum Margot will always protect and hold her baby. Baby boy, or baby girl, we don’t care, do we Kim-Kim? That’s right Kim-Kim girl. Mum-Mum Margot is always here for her girly-girl isn’t she?” Margot cooed as my erection grew and she slipped me inside of her pussy and turned me onto my back.
    My sobbing increased as the tight folds of her vagina enveloped my penis. She pushed, pulled and virtually tugged my cock with her demanding pussy muscles. My inability to confront my recent dark past had stricken me, as well as weakened me horridly.
    To now be with Margot in this intimate coupling was so new to me as well as foreign and strangely exotic. She could truly do anything she wanted with me at this moment in both physical and emotional ways. The pace she now set, pounding away on top of me was frenetic.
    I could not keep up and I froze beneath her, letting her intense sexual presence carry me away. I close my eyes, burying my head in her welcoming breasts, and sobbed almost hysterically. It was within this very needy and helpless bodily and tempestuous state that I managed to climax.
   The groundswell of passions and sentiments I experienced were highly conflicting. But as I pumped my seed within Margot’s very receptive, vigorously vehement pudenda, I reached uncontrollable ecstasy as well as unbridled liberation for that brief moment.
    “That’s it, get it all out girl. Each and every time you manage to get it all out, it will be another step towards freeing yourself from your ugly, horrid past. Good, girl Kimberley! That’s Mum-Mum’s, good, good, girly-girl, Kim-Kim!” Margot shouted to my excited happiness.
    She was beginning to love me again! If only this could continue? And I didn’t care whether I was her good boy or good girl, just as she had said. I only wanted to be her’s if that could ever be possible again?    Entrenched within her strong loving arms for the night, and having her help me dress for my appointment with Doctor Helene the following Monday morning, I desperately hoped I could continue to please her.
    As she rubbed some scented creme on my aureoles, the itching had lessened as well as the tenderness. The swelling was still there, but now the region felt to be alive and receptive to Margot’s loving touch. It was certainly welcome and promising.

Chapter II: The Doctor Will See You Now, Miss.

     Margot dropped me off in front of the Medical complex where Doctor Helene Ritchie’s psychotherapeutic offices were located. Then she continued on to her Aunt Matilda’s GYN offices where she was to now be employed as a receptionist.
    It was quite a comedown for a college grad and a trust fund baby, but Aunt Matilda insisted upon it in order for Margot to regain her standing within Aunt Matilda’s good graces.
    “You’ve allowed Kimberley to use you as some sort of doormat. Until I see that you have returned to my standards of assertiveness, you’ll be forced to earn my respect, each and every day, until you meet my approval, Margot,” Aunt Matilda had stated.
    For me, when the therapist finally cleared me for suitable employment in the workplace, I was to begin a tenure as a Hostess, in a new restaurant, recently purchased by Aunt Matilda’s young, Lesbian lover. The Actress and Singer, Anastasia Von Heiden.
    For today, I wondered what Doctor Helene had planned for our 75 minute session? I would soon find out.
    “Kimberley, today we will delve deeply into your past, thru a virtually, emotionally painless, hypnotic method of psychotherapeutic transference. Please relax and lay down on that very comfortable couch. Excellent. Now, let me cover you with this lovely, Angora blanket. Now close your eyes precious,” she said.
   “Incidentally I love your hair darling and I must know who did it for you? And your attire is simply stunning! Those billowy Palazzo slacks you are wearing are to die for. And your cosmetic application looks very professional. Did you do that yourself?” Doctor Helene asked.
    With my eyes still closed, I answered her, practically giggling.
   “Jocelyne Bordeaux at Salon Fabulous did the cut, coloring and shaping. Margot helped me this morning with my makeup and my hair styling,” I replied.
    “Wonderful. Now open your eyes and look at my locket. As you can see it’s in the shape of a Black Rose and made from a piece of Obsidian stone. It’s lovely, isn’t it Kimberley dear? Well, now Kimberley, please do not take your eyes off this locket?” Doctor Helene asked.
    “Very well, but don’t move your head, as I’m only going to swing the locket very slowly back and forth in front of you. It should have a very calming effect. And you may communicate verbally with me, Kimberley, if you prefer. In fact it’s a wonderful idea for you to do that. So do you find my Black Rose Obsidian Stone Locket to be pretty Kimberley? And how do you feel? Relaxed? Sleepy at all?” Doctor Helene wondered.
    “Yes, Doctor, the locket is very lovely. And yes, I do feel quite relaxed and somewhat refreshed. Sleepy? Hmm? Yes, maybe a little bit sleepy,” I yawned.
    “Oh my Kimberley. Does it bother you at all when Margot calls you Kim-Kim? She tells me, that during some very intimate moments she refers to you as her girly-girl, Kim-Kim? How does that set with you, dear girl?” Doctor Helene questioned.
    “I don’t know. Well, I’m a little confused I think? I’m not certain. I, well, oh, I think, that I wish, she’d tell me who she wants me to be? I can be Kim-Kim, if that is what she wants? Still, as Kimberley I can be pretty and sexy. I have no problem being her girly-girl if that is what makes her comfortable?” I stammered, understandably lost in the direction this session was going.
    “Can I close my eyes again, Doctor Helene? I’m getting so very, very sleepy. Oh my, I just can’t keep them open any longer,” I said drowsily.
    “Of course you can, my dear girl. Now, tell me. I want to ask of you some very personal questions. Am I speaking with Margot’s boyfriend, Kim, or her girlfriend, Kimberley, right now?” Helene asked.
    “This is Kimberley. Her girlfriend,” I said in a sweet, softly pitched, sexy voice.
    “Wonderful. Kimberley darling. What do you think of Kim? Do you like him?” Doctor Helene asked.
    “No, not at all. He’s thinks he’s so very macho. He’s a very bad man,” I said again, in a feminine voice.
    “What did he do? Did he do something bad to you, Kimberley?” Helene asked.
    “No, he did it to Margot,” I answered.
    “What? Tell me what he did to Margot?” Helene asked.
    “Lots and lots of very bad things. I don’t want to tell, you, precisely,” I whimpered.
    “Oh, no, young lady. No, my dear girl, that isn’t how we play this game. I ask questions, you give me truthful answers. No matter how much it hurts, you give truthful answers. Remember, you have to hurt some, if you want to overcome the fear,” Helene announced.
    “Okay, I’ll try. Kim, went on tour with this lady named Alana. He and Alana had sex constantly. They drank like lushes, they took heroin, it was awful. Please, don’t make me describe the sex acts they took part in?” I wailed, almost hysterically.
    “Hmm? I can imagine? Anal sex?” Helene whispered.
    “Oh no! Yes! Please stop?” I begged, sobbing again.
    “Calm down, Kimberley. You’re a big girl now. We’ll explore this later. Tell me this. Margot’s aunt, whom you now call Mummy, likes to see you dressed nicely, like you are today. Don’t you feel much better when she is happy and Margot is pleased with you and very proud of you, Kimberley?” Doctor Helene asked.
    “Yes, that’s true. My life is so much more fulfilled and rewarding when Mummy is happy and Margo is pleased with me,” I sighed.
    “Then why wouldn’t you do everything you could to make them both more pleased and happy, Kimberley? Would you like me to suggest some things you could do to enhance your standing with Mummy and make your sex life with Margot even more special and rewarding?” Doctor Helene proposed.
    “Well yes, doctor. That would be very nice of you to do for me,” I agreed.
    “Well, instead of wearing wide-legged Palazzo’s, which look like a skirt, anyway, why not wear a nice skirt and blouse or even a dress? Just think of how nice you’d look for Mummy, coming down for breakfast or even going out on an outing with her, with a cute frock on, or an A-line skirt?” Doctor Helene questioned.
    “And as cute as you look today, wearing those Kitten heels, how much nicer would your gorgeous legs look, then with a pair of three inch pumps on? Ask Margot. Ask her if you could get a nice pair of high-heels and a a svelte, slenderizing, floral frock dress,” the doctor suggested.
    “Hmm? I hadn’t thought to do any of this? I’m glad I came here today doctor, for this session. These are all wonderful ideas,” I agreed.
    “And I have a few more for you, Kimber. The next evening you go out with Mummy or Margot, why not enhance your facial features with some vivid, nighttime makeup? And your hair? You have it in such a full-bodied, high-fashion style. But, think of adding some curl to it, with a root-lift or a body-perm,” the doctor added.
    “Just one last thing Kimber, before I revive you. Have your nipples begun to feel more responsive to Margot’s ministrations and less itchy and sore?” Helene asked.
    “Well yes, doctor. Just yesterday afternoon, after I took my supplements we laid down in my boudoir and played,” I giggled.
    “Yes, she massaged in some creme and I responded quite well to that,” I answered.
    “Then just think how much better it would feel if they were larger?” Doctor Ritchie asked.
    “Larger? My nipples?” I questioned.
    “Well yes, the nipples as well as the pectoral region. That entire region, when properly sized and manipulated can be a very erotic zone. There are numerous ways to achieve that. Injections are one way. Think about it and ask Margot to approach her Aunt Matilda about it,” the doctor replied.
    “Injections won’t that hurt?” I asked.
    “Oh please Kimber. You’re acting like a little sissy. It’s just a quick prick. You’ll barely feel it. Now, I’m going to bring you back slowly Kimber. You’re going to slowly awaken, darling. And everything will be lovely,” Doctor Ritchie cooed.
    She was correct. I felt fantastic, as I came out of the deep, hypnotic trance the doctor had placed me in. Although mildly disoriented, I knew enough to immediately reach  into my purse so I could check and then fix my makeup, using my compact, lipstick, blush and mascara.
    And when I signed the receipt for the credit card Margot had given me, to use for the co-pay, I signed it Kimber Danforth.
    “Kimber? Do you prefer Kimber over Kimberley?” Doctor Helene asked.
    “Yes. I always have. Kimber is so very much more sophisticated and chic. I’m growing up. It’s time for me to stop being such a little girl and begin being a lady,” I said, tossing back my hair and fluffing it up while looking into my compact mirror.
    “Well that’s a marked improvement,” the doctor noted.
    I watched the doctor send out a few texts and then she smiled.
    “Anastasia is on the way to pick you up, precious. She’ll take you back to Laurel Canyon, Kimber,” the doctor smiled as she daintily shook my hand by only reaching for the tips of my fingers.
    Anastasia pulled up in her imported sports car. She smiled as she looked at me aloofly. I climbed into the passenger seat and before fastening my seatbelt I used the mirror on the sun-visor along with the mirror in my compact to again check my cosmetic application.
    I also used my right hand to finger style a few imaginary stray hairs from my heavily sprayed pompadour. Then as I clicked my seatbelt, Anastasia pulled away from the curb.
    “Darling, you should purchase a small non-aerosol bottle of extra-hold Redden hair-spritz like I have in my purse. We’ll stop and procure some for you at Gina’s Beauty Supply. I have something I need to speak to you about, that might enhance the interest you have in your position as hostess at my new restaurant,” she said.
    “Matilda and I have decided to add a small elevated stage with room for a baby-grand piano and other instruments. We want you to consider to begin playing piano and acoustic guitar again. As an added attraction to the dining experience at my new restaurant we want to add the feature of me spontaneously performing a few songs on selected evenings,” she smiled.
    “Wouldn’t that be so very exciting to the clientele? Not only would they have the chance to see me when they came to dine, they might even be able to hear me sing? Of course if I’m filming a movie somewhere or performing at another musical venue I wouldn’t be present,” she shrugged.
    “It might be a challenge for you to play the guitar or piano at first. Indeed especially with that lovely French-tipped manicure. You were always a wonderful musician so you’ll adjust very quickly, I’m certain,” Anastasia opined.
    “Couldn’t I just trim my nails?” I asked.
    “Of course not Kimber! Heaven forbid! There is nothing more exotic than watching a lovely female guitarist or pianist performing with elongated, French-tipped fingernails. Don’t be silly!” Anastasia admonished me.
    “I want to head over to Rodeo Drive right now and we can drop in at the Christian Dior Boutique to look over and try on some gowns to perform in, this very instant,” Anastasia added as if it were a matter of great urgency.
    “Don’t worry about your flat chest right now. A growing flat-chested girl or even a transgendered boy in transition such as you, isn’t anything unusual in the fitting rooms at Dior’s,” Anastasia added.
    Indeed, as the girls measured us both, Anastasia casually remarked that, “We have plans for Kimber to be filling out soon enough. This is just the preliminary trial fitting ladies.”
    “We understand Ms. Von Heiden. And any business that you and your entourage can send our way is always appreciated. That’s so exciting! You’ll not only be present many evenings at your new dining establishment, you’ll also be performing unannounced on various occasions. That certainly will add to the air of mystery already surrounding you and your now, growing legend,” the saleslady gushed.
    “Well thank you. What is your name? Heather? Well Heather, I’ll make certain to ask for you when Kimber and I come in for our final fittings to purchase our gowns,” Anastasia promised.
    “Thank you again, Ms. Von Heiden. I find it so professional and chic-chic that the two of you will perform in evening gowns, ma’am,” the effusive young lady again gushed.
    I took a nap after a long day that had included deeply entranced hypnotic psychotherapy, as well as an impromptu and mildly embarrassing evening gown fitting. I must have fallen into a deep slumber as I awoke to Margot’s smiling face and her beautifully manicured fingers brushing some stray bangs out of my eyes.
    “Hello kitten. Ready for some dinner? Here, let me massage your neck and shoulders while you wake up and then we’ll get you into something pretty for our evening meal. I just hung out something perfect for you to wear for dinner with Auntie, Anastasia and me, this evening,” Margot said, as she gently brought me out of my slumber.
    I virtually purred like a contented cat and rubbed my green eyes. I now focused my pretty eyes on the closet door where a three-tiered, floral print, pink and black, knee-length cocktail frock hung on a dress-hanger. I pursed my lips and smilingly looked at Margot.
    “Is that it? It is pretty,” I sighed.
    “Thank you love. I picked it up for you at Lulu Fontaine’s. It will look better with hose instead of the knee-highs your’e wearing, right now. Want to try it on?” Margot asked.
    I did want to try it on. She fitted me with a pair of seamless hosiery. With the camisole it fell okay, but I knew instinctively it would look better with something filling out the bust area. I shrugged and touched my pecs, with an “If only” sort of gesture. Margot looked at me consolingly.
    “That’s nothing to be frustrated with right now Kimber. We can speak to Auntie Matilda about that. You know that she improves that sort of thing for her clients all of the time. Now let’s fix you face and hair for dinnertime. Oh by the way, that hem will fall nicer with some taller pumps instead of those kitten heels,” Margot added and I nodded agreeably.
    “Wow. Even with just two-inch pumps your legs look so fantastic honey. Wait until you are able to mince around in a set of tall, four-inch spikes. You’ll be stopping traffic, sweetie,” Margot teased.
    At dinner, both Mummy (“Auntie Matilda”) and of course Anastasia made a big fuss over my hair, face, legs and my new frock. When Anastasia excused herself and kissed Mummy goodnight, Margot spoke with Mummy.
    “Could Kimber and I speak to you privately about something very personal?” Margot asked.
    “Of course you girls can. Come. To my office. I’ll have Bianca bring three Brandies and some coffee,” Mummy said.
    When the three of us were seated with our refreshments, Mummy asked, “If there anything wrong, girls?”
    “Kimber, stand up and turn to give my Auntie a good view of your profile. See? Kimber thinks she could use some help up top to fill things out,” Margot said.
    “Hmm? Yes. I see. Yes, she could. We can fix that. There’s no need to bring her into the downtown office, either. Not just yet, anyway. We can take care of that, right here at the house. I have a set-up here for my practice where I can see my more special patients privately if they request it. When we purchased this home, we had the garage converted into a home-office as well as light-services clinic so to speak,” Mummy explained.
    Mummy stood up. I remained standing self-consciously and looked almost pleadingly at Margot as Mummy circled me not quite surreptitiously to examine me more closely.
    She fussed with the bust-line of the cocktail frock and nodded. “Let’s make some time Saturday after brunch to attend to this ladies. Now, I believe Anastasia is looking over a script Lila Delorge gave her, and she might want me to read with her. Goodnight girls,” Mummy said, giving me a peck on the lips. She hugged Margot.
    “Goodnight Mummy,” I said as Margot and I strolled back to my boudoir.
    “Why don’t we sleep together in my boudoir tonight, pretty girl?” Margot asked to my pleasant surprise. It was the first time she’d invited me to sleep with her in her room since I’d went on tour with Alana. That seemed to be eons ago at this stage of my emasculated development.
    “Oh Margot. I’d love to. I’ll be right in. Let me change into something more comfortable, dearest,” I said as I walked quickly into my boudoir.
    I hurriedly and excitedly stripped. I rummaged through my dressers and found a Silk Chemise with stretch lace on top in a pleasant Saffron shade. I wanted to be as alluring as possible for Margot. I slipped on a pair of open toed high-heeled slippers. They must have been new as they had three-inch heels and I momentarily stumbled before I adjusted to the new, taller height.
   I dabbed perfume between my pecs, behind my ears, and upon my wrists. I left my makeup the way it was at dinner, except that I enhanced my lips with a wet-look plum shade. I looked at my hair and decided to slightly muss my perfectly shaped pompadour to give it a striking, “come hither,” look. Then I strolled prettily to the open door of Margot’s boudoir and tapped lightly, saying, “Hello?”
    “Come in darling. Please close, lock and bolt the door? Oh, you look and smell just lovely. Please Kimber, my dear? Come here and sit beside me?” Margot said seductively, tapping the area on the mattress next to her ample butt.
    I pursed my lips into a prim, half-smile and slid across the bed and laid next to her, twisting my torso to face her. With her back against a pillow, leaned against the headboard, Margot pulled me to her in a strong embrace. She began to French Kiss me passionately. My arousal at her aggressiveness was intense.
    Her smothering kisses and her strong arms held me captive. And I knew that captives could become slaves very easily. In my case, a bound and captive, love slave to this demanding, vigorous, female.
    “We’ll be doing things tonight that you’ve been hesitant to do in the past my Kimber Leanne. And your performance this evening will do much towards the impression I have of you in the days, weeks and months to come, my girl,” Margot warned me, enigmatically.
    One of those things was likely the performance of oral sex, upon Margot. The other was surely my being anally penetrated by even one finger. I was to find that I either submitted to Margot’s desires or I could return to having numerous lonely nights, deprived even of masturbation. Margot had told me if she ever caught me masturbating after we moved into her aunt’s home, we were surely done.
    “You’ll be out on the streets homeless, you little bitch,” Margot had spat.
    My salon-styled wavy hair was soon between Margot’s legs. As she relaxed against the headboard pillow she sighed happily as my lips, mouth and tongue soothed her from her long day at Mummy’s GYN office. I must have finally, at long last performed well.
    Her body twisted and contorted as she screamingly celebrated a glorious orgasm and clasped her lean, long legs snugly around my ginger-blonde head. She had me lay beside her and soothe her. “Tell me how much you love me. Make me feel loved and appreciated Kimber Leanna,” Margot whispered.
    I said soft, sweet things, I had once thought I was incapable of saying. “You’re my everything, my Margot. I’ve missed these tender moments your love provides me. I’m lost without you Margot. Please don’t leave me or cast me aside? I desperately need you in my life Margot,” I begged.
    She turned to me, with a steely-eyed gaze in her dark-brown eyes. She wasn’t frowning, nor was she smiling. She had a look of stark determination upon her face. She spoke in an eerie voice. For me it was the voice of desperation. But not her desperation. It was my impending despair she spoke of.
    “Listen to me Kimber Leanna and mark my words. Your world is changing and your new life is about to come after you faster than you may imagine. You must heed what I say and be prepared for the inevitable. It is imperative that you continue to do as you’re told,” she warned.
    “Not just by me, not just by all the ladies in this household, but you should obey every female we put you in contact with. And I mean every last one. I don’t care if it’s your therapist, your beautician, the Modiste, even the lady who does your French manicures. Listen and obey them,” she insisted.
    “If you want to continue as my lover, my fiancee and even eventually my bride, you’ll bow to our decision making and do everything you can to comply. Is that fully understood, Kimber Leanna?” Margot asked.
    “Yes Margot. Of course. I sincerely always want to be with you and be at your side,” I said, almost bursting into tears.
    “That’s good, kitten. Come to me,” Margot added, now holding my penis. We soon coupled, with Margot on top of me. As long as I would be able to maintain a normal erection this would now be the way we would enjoy coital sex.
    When I appeared to be ready to climax, Margot would surprisingly lift herself off of my penis. “On all fours girl. As if you were my pet poodle. Tonight I don’t want your gooey spunk inside of me. Don’t fret Miss Kimber Leanna. I’ll see to it that you climax,” Margot smiled.
    “I love toys such as this vibrator. So useful. A lot more useful than a man, that’s for certain. They last a lot longer in bed than most males do, as well. And they always satisfy me, again, unlike most selfish males. I hope you learn to enjoy my vibrator as much as I do honey?” Margot laughed.
   As I took the subservient “hands and knees” posture, she entered my now well-lubricated rectum with a well-oiled, buzzing vibrator. She shoved the vibrator in and out of my rectum. Each time, penetrating it further and further into my rectal cavity. It felt so long!
    At long last, the very tip of the vibrator touched my prostate gland. I jumped, gasped and then squealed most girlishly. “Did you enjoy that Kimber Leanna? Just wait. There’s more where that came from dearest,” Margot laughed.
    I was frantic when she removed her hand from my penis, but she knew what she was doing. Without any stimulation of my sexual organs, she administered a continual massage of my prostate. I soon began to buck like a pony. A “soon-to-be-gelded-stallion” might be more like it?
    As I spurted more and more spunk from my penis, Margot laughingly squeezed my cock at the base as she virtually “prostate milked” me until I collapsed onto her mattress. “You’’ll sleep well tonight, won’t you my pretty Princess Kimber Leanna?” Margot mockingly asked.
    This wasn’t my last strong, physical orgasm, by far. However, over the weeks and months to come, the physical aspects of a climax would diminish for me, and my climaxes would become more emotional, introspective and soulfully moving than in the past.
    In fact many aspects of me in a physical, mental and emotional aspect were about to change. Some would modify quite radically.

Chapter III: The Pretty Blush upon the Flower

   
    The wedding between Margot’s Aunt Matilda, and Anastasia Von Heiden was truly lovely. It was a traditional church wedding at a Unitarian facility in Beverly Hills. The event was packed with movie stars, singers and numerous physicians as well as surgeons from Matilda Channing’s associates, and assorted family and friends.
   Of course for professional reasons Anastasia would retain Von Heiden as her last name. However, the Female Justice-of-the-Peace had declared them “Husband and Wife.” The more masculinely attired Matilda was obviously the Husband. In fact, the Justice had went so far as to say, “Matilda, you may now kiss your new bride.”
    There was no way that Anastasia was going to appear as anything other than a majestic, ultra-feminine queen on her wedding day. She literally pranced into the church followed by her entourage, which included her Matron-of-Honor and bridesmaids. I had been asked to be a bridesmaid as well as Margot.
    Due to my newly expanding décolletage I’d now fit nicely into a gown. I’d soon be wearing one as the Hostess at the grand opening of “Anastasia’s Hideaway,” which was Anastasia’s soon to be opened restaurant. But being a restaurant hostess versus a bridesmaid at a well-attended Hollywood wedding were two vastly different things.
    And Margot immediately had seen the trepidation in my eyes when it had been proposed we attend Anastasia as maids. “Auntie and Anastasia, we are both so honored. However I don’t think just yet that Kimber Leanna, is quite ready for the grand stage of a Hollywood wedding. Not as a bridesmaid,” Margot smiled, patting my hand softly.
   “However, as I want to be with her throughout the ceremony why don’t Kimber Leanna and I attend the both of you as ushers, seating the guests in the church as well as the reception at the Cassandra Lodge,” Margot wisely proposed.
    “You’ve began to impress me more and more, each and every day, my very wise niece. Just like a Wicca, you are becoming a wise woman. To be so protective of your fragile fiancee at this critical juncture in her life, is so precious. How introspective you’ve become,” Aunt Matilda said.
   “So be it. We have two very lovely ushers for the ceremony. And, thru her obvious improvement my niece will again have control of her finances,” announced Matilda, though she continued to reign in control of my royalties for sometime.
    At the reception at the Cassandra Lodge, we were all treated to the song stylings of jazz maven, Diana Keane. She and Anastasia even performed a few duets together.
    Indeed, my life was at a critical juncture and my psyche was still somewhat fragile. However, along with my hypnotic, psycho-therapy and my twice monthly Estrogen injections, as well as frequent prostate milking, I’d come such a long, long way in my acceptance of my increasing emasculation and blooming femininity.
    For instance, those beauty salon visits that had once been such very foreign and intimidating undertakings for me? Well, now every trip to the salon had become a truly cherished and welcome diversion from the household tasks I’d now undertaken at Margot’s urging.
    To prepare me for the day that she and I would be married and have our own household, Margot had encouraged me to assist the maids around Matilda and Anastasia’s mansion with their everyday duties. Until of course I became a full-time hostess at Anastasia’s Hideaway.
    At first, the twice monthly Estrogen injections and prostate milking I would experience in Matilda Channing’s home office were another difficult experience for me. Mummy, (these days she’s Auntie Matilda) would have me dress in a pink Terry cloth robe and then assist me onto the exam table before she’d fasten my feet snugly into the GYN stirrups, by clamping my ankles.
    Each and every visit she’d take hold of my genitalia and massage as well as oil them very, very, liberally. Initially when the prostate treatments and Estrogen injections had began, she’d used a reasonably sensuous and un-mechanical method to stimulate me.
    “I’m only performing this masturbation to measure the quantity of the sperm you produce and the Testosterone content. I’ll need to take a sperm sample of course. It is also always interesting to note which stimulus aids the most in producing a climax,” Mummy said to my puzzlement.
    Similarly to when Margot had removed her hands from my penis as she used a vibrator on my rectum, Mummy had lessened the pressure on my penis and balls as she inserted not one but two fingers within my anus. Again I was struck nearly blind by the intense, electric sensation of my prostate being stimulated.
    In this case it was the long tip of one of Mummy’s beautifully manicured French tipped nails. As I neared a soaring climax I pressed  the palms of my dainty hands upon the exam table.
    “Oh please Mummy, this is so intense. Please? I don’t know if I can stand it?” I begged.
    “I’m sorry my dear girl, but I need the sample. I can’t help that your prostate is such a hot little button in your case,” she teased.
    I quivered from the top of my head down through my spine and then I exploded, nearly sitting up straight. My toes curled in the tight stirrups and my cock exploded. As the sperm streamed out, Mummy continued to milk both my prostate gland as well as the base of my penis where it contacted my ball sac.
    “Oh please, Mummy stop please?” I begged.
    “No, I need as large a sample as I can get Kimber Leanna. You’re being most whiny today. Good thing I’m giving you your initial estrogen boosters. I think you need the cool, calming, feminizing effect Estrogen provides to girls like you,” Mummy added as she completed the sample taking.
   Now, she loaded a syringe, and gave me a shot in the left side of the butt, followed by another in the right side of the same area. By the time she’d injected yet more Estrogen in the area beside both my pecs, just underneath my underarms, I did feel a calmness as well as a light-headedness overtake me.
    “You lay there and rest while the drugs stabilize. I’m going to give you tablets you must take everyday after breakfast along with a large tube of Collagen creme either you or Margot should massage into your genitals, bust, hips and lips every evening,” Margot added.
   Every two weeks Mummy gave me my Estrogen injections as well as milked me. After a few months I noted I could barely attain an erection. I did produce a discharge but only when my prostate gland was stimulated. Even then the discharge was milky white and a sort of dribble.
    Though, I would still feel a chilling shudder up and down my spine as well as an introspective nearly soulful calming which would come over me as I dribbled from my now smaller penis. And the reward of watching my breasts grow and the smile on Margot’s face when I was fitted for an “A” cup brassiere at Lulu Fontaine’s Modiste, was evidence enough that my efforts were being recompensed.
    One thing I was fearful of telling anyone was that here and there, infrequently I would have doubts, regrets or feel shame that I might be betraying my birthright as a male. The thoughts were fleeting and inconsistent but they existed nevertheless.
    It was easy to hide these silly conclusions from Margot, Anastasia, Mummy, or even Jocelyne my hairdresser. But under hypnosis with my therapist, Helene Ritchie, I found it was virtually impossible, if not foolish and foolhardy. Before every session Helene and I would chat.
    I’d tell her everything was simply wonderful and then she’d put me into a hypnotic trance using her Black Rose, Obsidian Stone medallion. Then she’d probe my inner psyche and she’d say something like, “Now why not tell me about your feelings of shame from allowing your silly boyishness to be left by the wayside?”
    “Did that part of you ever lead to anything any good, Kimber Leanna?” Helene would ask.
    “Well, no, it never did. But sometimes I do feel guilty and full of shame and embarrassment from permitting myself to be so easily emasculated,” I said.
    “Permitted, Kimber Leanna? I don’t see that at all. I see someone that has been a very eager as well as very willing participant in their journey to femininity. I just don’t think you’ve embraced the facts of the matter, as much as you’ve embraced your girlishness,” intoned Doctor Ritchie.
    “Today before you leave I’ll be giving you some Devotionals to the She-Gods. The ancient Goddesses of the Wicca’s, the Celtic Sisters, the Greek Temple Prostitutes and the Shield Maidens.  Each morning and night you will ask a different Goddess to come into your spirit to guide you and to fulfill you,” Helene Ritchie said.
    As I came out of the trance I was determined to begin a quest to fully embrace my femaleness and my dedication to it. That evening I looked over the Devotional book and chose a Mantra and ceremony to the Wicca Goddess of Sorcery, Freya.
    After bathing I anointed my entire body with Sandalwood Oil. I began with my hair, moved to my growing bust, oiled my buttocks and genitals before coating my legs and feet. Then naked I went to an open window and looked for the moon. When I saw it in the sky I bowed my head and read the Mantra.
    “Oh Freya. Fill me with your magic so that I might revel in my girlishness and never, ever deny it. May I embrace all things feminine within me and without. In the name of the Wicca’s and the Shield Maiden’s I sing your praises and I open my heart to you in my quest for femininity,” I said.
    I continued these Mantra’s morning and night. I’m the morning I’d again face the window naked and anoint myself in Lemon scented lotion. The Mantra was similar but it was to the Goddess Queen, Hera.
   It was during my next trip to the salon, as Margot opened the door and motioned me to a seat in the waiting room, a feeling of calm and peace enveloped me. The angst and trepidation I’d normally felt when entering a salon was gone completely. In its place was unbridled joy.
    I actually welcomed the sight of my hairdresser Jocelyne and was excited about discussing my beauty treatments with her. As always, Jocelyne asked, “So what are we doing ladies?”
   “Well, a cut, color and style, but I think if you show Kimber Leanna some photos from your sample books, she’ll have some ideas. Won’t you Kimber?” Margot asked as Jocelyne looked on surprised.
    “Okay Kimber. Let’s do it,” Jocelyne said.
    “I’d like to keep my length and thickness. So just a trim? I’d love more body though and if I wasn’t getting a new color, I’d want to try a loose perm, maybe?” I said.
    “Well, hair color, can give you extra body until we can try a perm in a month or two. Let’s see. Darker or lighter?” Jocelyne asked.
    “Oh my stars. I love this. Can we do this? Please tell me we can do this?” I asked excitedly, totally over-the-top involved with such a girly thing as having my hair colored.
    The color was called Burnt Sienna. It included reddish auburn and ginger gold foiling on a medium brown base. It was all topped off with a touch of violet. It was just simply, terminally exciting and I was shaking like a school girl when Jocelyne took the color chart over for Margot’s inspection.
    “She asked for that? Honey, you have come a long way. Well, you know how I reward for such improvement. I love it,” Margot said.
    I sat primly with the foil in my hair and two ultra-violet color accelerators on either side of my newly tinted tresses. Jocelyne manicured my nails and we talked about makeup, body lotions, perms and bath salts. I couldn’t have felt more girly or have been doing anything more girly if I’d had a real pussy.
    As Jocelyne set my hair on large rollers, I kept looking at the plum polish and the white French tips, thinking about how much I liked a real wet-look, plum lipstick. Back under the dryer I asked Jocelyne for the girliest fashion mag she had at the salon.
   “Marie Claire is just about as girly as it get’s honey,” she smiled.
    After my comb-out with a true full-bodied look I asked for Lacquer instead of a non-aerosol spritz. “I want plenty of hold and lots of shine, Jocelyne,” I said.
    “Oh your hair will shine with this lacquer, princess,” Jocelyne promised. And I loved that it really did.
    With my bangs falling over my right eye I sidled up to Margot and whispered, “Ready to take me home?”
    As we left the salon with our arms linked, Margot said, “You’ve got a vibrator fucking coming tonight young lady. You’d better hope you’re ready, willing and able,” she smiled.
    I was. ;)

Chapter IV: A New Dynamic

    A month later, with my new hair color still shimmering beautifully within any lighted room, I decided on a loose body perm for the grand opening of Anastasia’s new restaurant. The very thought of being at the hair salon was yet, even more exciting this time around.
    In high school, as well as in college many girls had joined sororities. I always had pictured those sorority houses and meetings as being bastions of hyper-femininity. Places where the girls would gather and waltz about happily in their panties and their brassieres. Blissfully oblivious to anything but the sterile, perfumed feminine atmosphere which surrounded them.
    There, in the sanctuary of their sorority, the ladies could leave the cares of the real world behind them, and engage in chatty discussions about hair, makeup, lotions, perfumes and scented oils. They could be “sisters,” delightedly doing each other’s hair and nails while seated in their intimates, unashamed of their bodies and celebrating their ladylike glamour.
    To me, as I truly became Kimber Leanna, the safety and the sanctity of the beauty salon had become my “Sorority” house. It was a wondrous feeling that very Saturday afternoon as Margot dropped me off in front of Salon Fabulous. It was a full week prior to Anastasia’s grand event.
    My high-heels clicked on the pavement of the sidewalk and tapped out a staccato rhythm as I climbed the short flight of steps to the front entranceway of the salon. I checked in with the receptionist, and picked up an older issue of a gossip mag that had pirated photos of Aunt Matilda and Anastasia’s wedding.
    A shampoo girl softly spoke, “Ms. Danforth? Please come with me? I’ll get your hair washed and conditioned. Jocelyne will be ready to begin your body wave very shortly, Miss.”
    I settled into the chair and tilted my head back into the shampoo sink. Soft, jazz-like music was playing. The mixture of giddy feminine chatter and light laughter permeated the air. The heady aromas of hair coloring and nail polish stood out, interspersed with hair spray and the scent of expensive cosmetics.
   I adored every moment of it. All the scents and the chirpy, cheery sounds. As the shampoo girl wrapped a Terry cloth towel around my wet hair, and tucked it within my pink salon cape, she asked me, “You’re getting a cut, a body perm and manicure Miss Danforth. When would you like your manicure? Right now during the perm wrap?”
    “Oh, thank you so much for asking, Leslie. You’re such an angel. No. Jocelyne always gives me a wet-set after my hair color or in this case, my perm is completed. Then she does my nails and we chat and do some catching up,” I smiled.
    I wasn’t seated at Jocelyne’s styling station more than two minutes when I heard the click-clack of her kitten heels behind me.
    “Well, you’ll be having some excitement in your life, very soon, won’t you, Kimber?” Jocelyne said as she removed the towel and looked over my shiny, wet locks.
    “I’m not taking much off. Just some damaged ends and enough to remove weight to give your hair a natural lift. This is all about body today, doll. The rumor mill says, you’ll be accompanying Anastasia on select nights after her grand opening? True?” Jocelyne said, quizzically.
    “Yes. I’ll bet Anastasia had some of her friends start that rumor. So, have you also heard that Margot and I have set a wedding date? Anastasia insists she’ll be announcing that just prior to our first performance together. So, keep that one as quiet as you can?” I asked.
    “Too late doll. That rumor is all over the salon today. But, no one knows the date yet, so, you’re still safe there,” Jocelyne added.
    The trim she gave me was completed quickly and she remarked that my hair had held the color and shine quite well. So, she began sectioning my hair and putting in the large sized wave rods. There is just something so very feminizing and girly about getting a perm.
    I know. Perms for males were popular for a little over a decade starting somewhere in the late 1960’s, maybe? Okay, what else was going on then? Can you say, Women’s Liberation? Yes, it was really peaking at that point and gaining steam.
    You know what I think really happened? A group of very assertive females decided to wear the pants and be in charge. Those very same pants wearing, in-charge ladies sent their favorite Nancy-boy males to the beauty parlor to get perms.
    “We’re wearing the pants and we’re also in charge now. We’re keeping our hair long and straight. You Nancy’s get your pretty little asses to the salon and get a nice pretty perm put into your hair for us. Then come back and sit in our laps and we’ll make out and play with your pretty new curls,” they laughed, contemptuously.
    Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly like that but I still contend that, there is nothing as girly and femme as going to the beauty parlor and getting a perm. Unless of course your new Mummy or your new Auntie gives you a home perm.
    Seriously now, there is still not anything quite so incredibly shameful and emasculating as sitting in a chair, with your Mummy or Auntie giving you a home permanent wave, while their girlfriends visit, and ooh and aah about the pretty curls and ringlets you’ll soon be putting on display. I get chills and my face flushes just thinking about it. Don’t you?
    As Jocelyne tightly rolled each rod into my hair, I eagerly awaited the application of the perm solution. You know the solution is about to be applied when the hairdresser completes the wrapping of the cotton gauze around the perimeter of the tightly rolled perm rods.
    She then snips the end of the plastic, perm solution bottle. This is when the excitement of a perm really hits me. There is simply nothing like the acrid aroma of perm solution as it permeates the air around you and soaks into your perm-rod-infused tresses.
    Were I still a novice sissy, terror-stricken and completely out of my panties about being in a salon, well of course then I’d find the scent of the perm solution to be absolutely frightening. But these days, I’m as much of a girl as I could possibly be and still have a shrunken, shriveled penis.
    So, as the perm solution saturated my wound locks, I knew the result. Pretty curls, sexy spirals and tight, springy ringlets. In the case of the body wave I was having put in that day, well, the result would be body and shine that wouldn’t quit. Especially after a heavy application of Redden, Extra-hold Spray-net Lacquer.
    Seated between a set of infra-red perm accelerators, reading a gossip mag, is such a relaxing feeling. The perm is taking, the tedious work is over, and the beautiful, new “Do” is soon to be revealed. Just a few more steps, girls.
    As Jocelyne checked the amount of wave, she rinsed out the perm lotion and applied the curl neutralizer. We’re magically one step closer. After a rinse, she removed the rods, checked the curl and wave and then smilingly gave me a tight, wet-set.
    As the wet set took, she did my nails and we chatted like a couple of girlfriends do at the beauty parlor. I told her that Anastasia wanted me in bright red nail polish and matching lipstick for hostessing. I chose a pearl polish and matching eye-shadow for my French-tips.
    When my manicure was done, and while my wet-set dried, I texted Margot to come to the salon to retrieve me. She showed up while I was chatting amicably with the girls in the lobby. As usual my boobs were thrust out as I loved showing off my implanted tits.
    “Are you ready to go, doll-face?” Margot asked with a wink.
    When I finally seated my ass in her new Camry and before I put on my seatbelt, I leaned over and kissed her. “I simply can’t wait until we’re married, Margot,” I said almost tearfully.
    Of course the tears I was close to shedding were tears of joy from a dream about to come true in about ten weeks. For me the announcement that Anastasia planned for our first performance together simply couldn’t wait, but it did. The grand opening went well and was very well-attended and was as star-studded as anyone could have expected.
    We all looked great and Mummy and Margot helped me with seating the people there for dining, as it was just so busy. But nothing was quite as exciting as the initial evening Anastasia and I did our opening act. I wanted everything to be perfect.
    I spent the entire day in large, plastic rollers. Margot tightly corseted me as we dressed for the evening. She and Mummy would be sitting with the people dining. I slithered into my Lulu Fontaine Original gown and it hugged my knees like a tight pair of leather gloves.
    Walking in a pair of four-inch stilettos was foreign until about a month ago. I looked at my profile and loved the way my uplift brassiere pushed my boobs out. I saved my “Crowning Glory” until last. I placed two sets of dangling chandelier earrings in each lobe. Then I slid my right wrist into a diamond charm bracelet.
    On my left ring finger was the engagement ring Margot had given me to a cascade of my tears that morning. Every time I looked at it I almost began to cry again. Once my makeup was on I clasped my clutch-purse shut. I knew I’d fix my face again prior to and after the show.
   Then out came a brush, rattail teasing comb a can of spray lacquer, and some styling pomade. I went to work on my hair. I wanted that same sleek pompadour I’d seen on Portia De Rossi. But, with a more generous bang hanging over my right eye.
    I wanted the ducktail in back to curl up just so. The shaved nape looked perfect in a hand held mirror. I wanted all that but with volume. A lot of volume. And it had to stay in place all night, with me tinkling piano keys, and my head and tits, bobbing from side to side.
    With the restaurant about to open I checked the stage area one last time. The P.A. was on as well as the mics. We’d done the sound check. We were ready to do two full sets if Anastasia wanted to. My four guitars were tuned and sitting in stands in the order they might be played. I’d left my Fender Electric at home.
    The Gibson Les Paul, the Collings Acoustic six-string, the Martin twelve-string and the Ramirez Segovia inspired classical were all ready to play. As the tables filled and the servers began to wait tables, Anastasia gave me the go ahead to play some warmup music on the piano.
    Just before going to the stage I spoke to Melanie, the Head-Waitperson who was subbing for me as hostess.
    “Mel, you look gorgeous, tonight,” I said.
   “And you look absolutely Hollywood glamorous, Kimber Leanna. Kimber, I heard about the announcement Ana is going to make tonight when she goes on. Congratulations to you and Margot. I think it’s just so wonderful how much you’ve changed in order to gain back her love,” Melanie said, almost tearfully.
    “Kimber, when you two had your past problems, I don’t mind telling you that I hoped there was a chance for Margot and I. But, I’m still so glad you two are getting married. I love the both of you,” Melanie added, kissing me on the cheek.
    As I strolled to the stage, a light smattering of clapping drew my attention. I looked to my right and wiggled my fingers in thanks. My tits bounced a little and my ass wiggled a bit as I navigated the four-inch heels. I sat in relief at the piano stool and tickled the keys in a quick, Bluesy run.
    After a few more finger loosening exercises I began a medley of the numbers we’d be doing that night. Then I spoke to the audience. “Good evening and welcome to Anastasia’s hideaway. Our main act will be out shortly. My name is Kimber and I’ll be sitting in on piano and maybe guitar tonight. So please enjoy your evening,” I added.
    I was midway thru the medley and I looked to my right. Anastasia was snapping her fingers in time. She looked so hot! Then she nodded to me and pointed. That was my cue.
    “Ladies and Gentleman, I’d like you to welcome the Crown Princess of Romantic Jazz, Anastasia Von Heiden!” I said to loud applause.
    I played an intro. Anastasia took her bows and then she signaled me that she wanted to speak.
   “Thank you Kimber Leanna. Ladies and gentleman, my pianist and sometimes guitarist, Kimber Leanna Danforth. But she won’t be Danforth for too much longer. Kimber, take a bow please?” Anastasia said.
    I stood up, came from behind the piano and dipped into a demure curtsey, which the audience likely found ladylike. Then I sat at the piano once again, giggling.
   “First, you know that I just got married and I want to introduce my handsome husband. Honey, please stand up? There she is, Doctor Matilda Channing. And guess what? Matilda has her niece, Margot DeVaughn with her tonight. Margot would you stand up, please? Now, Margot what did you ask my pianist Kimber this morning?” Anastasia asked.
   “Come to the edge of the stage and speak into my microphone Margot. There,” Anastasia said.
    “Well I asked Kimber to marry me, and become my wife, and she said, yes she would!” Margot announced happily to more laughter and applause.   
    “She did? Kimber, you must stand up then, show us your engagement ring and tell us about the wedding,” Anastasia insisted.
    I stood up and held out my left hand girlishly presenting the diamond I’d been given.
    “Well, in two months time Margot and I will become husband and wife. The wedding and the reception are both private. Family and close friends only. Both the ceremony and reception will be held at the  Cassandra Lodge in Laurel Canyon, two months from today. The ceremony begins at ten with the reception to follow,” I said again curtseying shyly and returning to the piano stool.
    “One last detail Kimber. Do I have it correctly that Margot will be the husband in the marriage and you’ll be the wife? You can just nod your ascent or shake your head no. Oh, she’s nodding so Kimber, it appears, will be the demure housewife in this marriage!” Anastasia announced.
    We performed for 45 minutes. Anastasia began with a Melody Bardot cabaret tune, “Black as Night.” She continued with a few tunes by Ella, then a Diana Kraal number. After some jazz standards she had me get out the Gibson Les Paul and we did a rousing rendition of Bobby Darin’s “Mack the Knife, to close the brief set.
    Anastasia left the stage to a thunderous applause. I thought she’d come back for an encore. Then I looked back stage and there was a blonde holding onto Anastasia waving for me to come back. I minced quickly. I could hardly believe my eyes but it was the stunningly, sexy, actress extraordinaire, Jasmine Laurent.
    She was hugging Anastasia who was bawling her eyes out. “Oh Jasmine, they loved me didn’t they? I’m so excited Jas. And wasn’t Kimber fantastic? Oh Jasmine, they simply adored me. Didn’t they Jasmine? I might go back on later? I don’t know?” Anastasia gushed, tearfully sniffling.
    It was vintage Anastasia, making sure she upstaged any other performer that might be present that night. Ms. Laurent motioned for me to comfort Anastasia.
    “You were great Ana. Yes they did love you. Thank you so very much Ms. Laurent for being here to help,” I said.
    “Are you Kimber? I love your hair, Kimber. Where did you get it done? It’s similar to mine but so much fuller. And the coloring is so striking,” Ms. Laurent added.
   “Thank you, ma’am. My hair is really naturally thick, but I’ve recently had both an Ombre and a Body wave put it. Jocelyne who manages Salon Fabulous in the Hills, does me. The color is Burnt Sienna,” I explained.
    Now Ms. Laurent was staring at me puzzled. As if she was trying to place me.
    “Kimber, I’ve seen you before, but I simply just cannot quite image you? Have you always accompanied Ana?” Jasmine asked.
    “No. First time,” I chirped.
    “I know now I’ve seen you or someone else that looks like you as an accompanist for another female singing star. Was it Diana Kraal?” Jasmine asked again, her eyes locked in on me in a steely gaze.
    Wow. I couldn’t believe this? I wouldn’t think my own mother would be able recognize me at this point.
    “It was very likely someone else. Possibly someone who does resemble me? I haven’t played professionally at all, any time recently. I’ve really been out of circulation, for a good bit,” I said.
    “Well good luck on your marriage to Margot. I’ll see you at the wedding. Maybe by then we’ll both recall where I might have seen you before,” Jasmine said.
    “Oh? You’ll be at the wedding? You know Margot?” I asked nervously.
    “No. Margo’s Aunt Matilda is my GYN. Is she your’s? Maybe that’s where I’ve seen you? In any event, I love Cassandra Nuptials. Really special events. Oh, you played beautifully Kimber,” Ms. Laurent said, before she kissed me on the lips and waved goodbye.
    Shortly after Ms. Laurent exited, Mummy came back stage and hugged me so very maternally.
    “Oh Kimber. Now I can officially welcome you to our family. In two months you and Margot will finally be wed. I’m so happy about that, that I’m now giving you permission to call me Aunt Matilda. I’ll miss you calling me Mummy but you’re a big girl now, aren’t you Kimber?’ Aunt Matilda asked.
   “Yes, thank you Aunt Matilda. You’ve been a wonderful mentor in seeing to it that I have matured into a big girl,” I agreed.
    I had no illusions about Matilda Channing, my future husband, Margot, or the Cassandra Sisterhood. I’d known for some time that Matilda’s vast financial wealth and her political connections procured for her much sway in most legal and economic matters.
    I fully realized my life would be very unusual as the wife of Margot DeVaughn and basically the Daughter-in-law of Auntie Matilda, who had raised Margot since grammar school. It would be very unusual in the sense of the life I had once led and aspired to.
    However, if indeed I behaved properly, as any demure housewife  should, I would be showered with a glamorous lifestyle and lead the pampered existence of any normal Southern California Trophy Bride. Those were the limited choices that lay before me.
    Limited, however enjoyable, if indeed I thoroughly embraced the feminine persona they had planned for me. To rebel was completely out of the question and anything short of complete compliance was unacceptable to these two devoted, confirmed members of the Cassandra Sisterhood.
    I had seen the trappings of my Bridal “Trousseau.” I had carefully read and begun to practice the exhaustively ritualistic marriage ceremony. I now wore a rectal plug because I was told to wear one. I knew why I wore it but I didn’t dare to ask why.
    I wasn’t allowed to ask about anything, really. I was expected to obey, comply and to do so quite happily. It might sound harsh but really it did relieve me, a complete failure as a male of any sort of difficult decision making. On the drive home Margot said to me, “I saw you conversing animatedly with Jasmine Laurent. Did you find her attractive?”
    “Not in any sort of alluring way. Certainly not in the way I find you so charmingly engaging. Were you aware that Melanie, the hostess this evening, once carried a torch for you?” I asked.
    “Of course I was. I briefly took advantage of Melanie and then I withdrew from the relationship. It wasn’t fair to her until I could be certain which way my relationship with you was heading. I hope she isn’t jealous? I’ve asked her to be your Maid of Honor and she accepted. I also offered her my proxy to paddle you during the ceremony. She accepted without giving it a second thought,” Margot added with a devilish smile as she patted my knee.

Chapter V: Imposing Splendor       

    Two weeks prior to our nuptials, Margot sent me to the salon with Aunt Matilda to have my color touched up for the wedding. Plus she felt I could use a root lift in order to maintain the body wave as well enhance my voluminous tresses.
  Jocelyne again only gave me a light trim to remove damaged edges and remove weight that might drag down my waves. She also chose to only enhance my lighter colors.
    “I’m going to leave the medium brown base just as it is. It’s so close to your natural color. I’ll enhance the ginger a small amount as well as touch up the reddish auburn. What I’d like to do, as a wedding is a festive occasion, is add a little more violet,” Jocelyne said.
    “By the way, once you and Margot get settled into a routine. You know, what I mean. You’ll move into your own place, and then establish responsibilities. Well, there is a group of Cassandra wives that get together here once a month on the first Saturday. They get here really early like 9 A.M.” Jocelyne said.
    “They have their hair and nails done and then they do the brunch at Chez Monique’s. After that they do a movie, together. It’s usually a group of 4 or 5. Then I think they do sort of a little hen party the last Saturday of the month at one of the girl’s homes. Maybe their husbands are out golfing? I don’t know?” Jocelyne added.
    “When you say Cassandra wives, you mean girls like me?” I whispered.
    “Well yes. A couple have female husbands and one or two are married to men. It’s a mixed group. You know, I think one girl had the surgery. Maybe?” Jocelyne shrugged.
    I sat with foiled hair while Jocelyne began my manicure. Once the color took she gave me a rinse and a wet-set and completed my manicure. Aunt Matilda had dropped me off and continued on to the Cassandra Lodge to finalize the details for the wedding.
    She returned just in time to watch Jocelyne comb me out.
    “I think it best you sleep in rollers the evening before your nuptials, kitten. Then Bianca can comb you out and help you with your makeup and dressing in your trousseau at the Lodge on your wedding day. They have a lovely Bridal chamber at the facility, for you and your Maid-of-honor, Melanie. You’ll adore what we have planned for you,” Aunt Matilda smiled.
    The day of the wedding, both Bianca and Sierra, Matilda’s two maids drove with me to the Cassandra Lodge. We were escorted to the Bridal Chamber where they hung up everything I’d be wearing to be married. My six bridesmaids who I’d only recently met during rehearsals were dressing in another room.
    Only Melanie, my maid-of-honor was dressing with me. The six bridesmaids were wives of other Cassandra Sisters. It would later turn out that two of the girls were part of the little Cassandra Wives group that met at the salon and then did brunch and a movie.
    It didn’t know at that time, that they were part of the group. What I did know, as Margot had enlightened me, was this. For any Cassandra wife to be chosen as a bridesmaid, she must already be a Castrated Sissy, that had been dedicated to Freya, the Norse Goddess of Sorcery. I became faint when Margot informed me of that little fact.
    “Were they forced into being Castrated, Margot? I asked frightened.
    “I wouldn’t know. It’s possible a few were. I really don’t know for certain. From what my aunt tells me, usually the girls asked to be castrated as they feel that their little balls are just so very useless, any longer. It’s also considered an honor to be dedicated to Freya. You have nothing to fear, darling. I would never impose my will upon you in such a critical matter. Besides, I find your little penis and your tiny balls to be so cute,” Margot explained.
    “Any such decision I would leave solely to you. However I would honor your decision should you decide to become a Castrate devoted to Freya, and I’d be very proud of you. It’s very rare in our Sisterhood for castration to be administered as any sort of consequence. The violation by the impending Sissy Castrate would have to be truly enormous. However, it does occur,” Margot added.
    I was corseted tightly by Sierra and Bianca. I wore a snug, but minimal panty brief. I simply, no longer had much between my groin. The Estrogen injections had diminished my maleness so much.
    Both mentally and physically I had become very much a subservient female. I would not be wearing a paneled girdle and my wedding gown was a Tulle, Princess, Mini-Dress with a flared A-Line hem.
    It was designed to make my ass a perfect target for the paddle which would be wielded by my Maid-of-honor Melanie. Once I was dressed and my makeup was finalized I was led on a leash, by Anastasia who would be giving me away.
    The bride’s portion of the wedding party now lined up outside of the chapel devoted to Hera. Margot and Matilda were inside already at the altar with the High Priestess Veronica. When the door opened, I followed right behind Anastasia.
    At least I wasn’t wearing a fishtail gown and mincing on four-inch heels was no longer foreign to me. Melanie was by my side, already holding Margot’s college sorority paddle. Trailing behind us were the six, castrated bridesmaids.
    I trained my eyes on the back of Anastasia’s head as I wasn’t permitted to make eye contact with anyone until I was wed to Margot. The butt-plug I now wore regularly within my rectum both stimulated me slightly and added just the right touch of a delightful feminine wiggle to my walk.
    Just like my dangling earrings always tickling my neck, the plug was a constant and feminizing reminder of just how girlish and submissive I had become. However the stimulation of my rectum would no longer result in an erection. Yes, my loins would twitch and my genitalia would attempt to respond, but it was futile.
    In fact, I now realized there existed a totally foreign dynamic in how I related to a stunningly beautiful female. In the past of course I would react to a glamorous woman in a completely carnal manner. I’d instantly think of what she might look like nude in my bed. But that was then. No longer did my hard penis dictate my thoughts.
    Instead, I might envy this same glam female for the dress she was wearing, or how prettily she pranced in her high-heeled shoes. I’d wonder who did her hair, and if indeed the stylization was the result of a perm or from a lengthy roller set? If she wore a striking color of lipstick I would want to ask her what brand she preferred and what the lipstick shade was called?
    If she wore a noticeably attractive dress or a particularly stunning pair of shoes I might try and guess who the designer was? I had now attained the psyche of a Glam Fashionista, who knew more about hair care, clothing and skin care products than I knew about courting or bedding a pretty woman.
    When the bridal party arrived at the altar I was separated from the group. The bridesmaids fanned out across the front of the Temple to Hera. I was made to kneel on an altar step below the Priestess, Margot and her Aunt Matilda. I was told to bow my head and lower it to the floor. The eerie music ceased to play and you could have heard a pin drop.
    Anastasia released my leash and stood behind me.
    Then Priestess Veronica asked, “Who have you brought before our assembly to be wed to Sister Margot DeVaughn, Sister Anastasia?”
    “This one is the Sissy Kimber Leanna, Madame Veronica,” Anastasia said.
    “Has she been cleansed?” Veronica asked.
    “No ma’am,” said Anastasia.
    “Then let us see to her cleansing. You, the pretty Castrate closest to her. Yes you girl. Make certain the hem of the slut’s dress is out of the way. And lower her panty-brief to make her ass-cheeks available to the paddle,” Veronica ordered.
    I could feel the frightened sissy doing as told. I could also hear the snickering from the congregation as my plump, puckering ass was exposed.
    “I want three strokes laid on as harshly and powerfully as can be managed. You may begin, Maid-of-Honor, Melanie,” Veronica instructed.
    I wanted to bite my lower lip, but I knew it would ruin the lipstick I’d just applied in the Bridal Chamber. The first stroke of the paddle shook me to my core. “Whack! Hail Cassandra!” Veronica and the Sisters in the Temple shouted.
    “Whack, again! Hail Hera!” Veronica and the gathered Sisters, chanted. By now my tender, plump ass was on fire. This had become so terribly shameful.
    Then the third paddle stroke fell directly above my stockinged thighs. Oh gracious!
    “Whack!” Yet again, and the rousing chant of “All Hail the Sisterhood!” Now shook the rafters.
    My body trembled. I wasn’t sure if I could walk immediately in my tall heels.
    “You girl. Again. Yes you. Of course. You, the sweet looking Castrate closest to the shaking bride. Right now girl. Make the whore presentable for her husband-to-be. That’s it. Put her panty back in place and smooth the hem of her dress. You did an excellent job of disciplining her Melanie,” smiled Priestess Veronica.
    “Melanie and again the lovely little Castrato that has been so helpful thus far? Please assist our soon-to-be-married bride to her feet and aid her in placing herself next to her handsome husband-to-be, please? Very nice girls,” Veronica smiled.
    Shaking from the “Cleansing” I’d just been subjected to, I was helped to my feet and tottered almost helplessly up the two steps to stand next to Margot. I took a deep breath and whispered to Melanie and the heretofore unnamed Castrato Bridesmaid, “I’ll be fine girls. Thank you."
    I stood next to Margot, while still slightly shaking, my head properly lowered. I could smell her perfume. I’d seen her come to the lodge in a limo. I knew she wore a white tux, perfectly tailored to her buxom figure. Her footwear was a pair of shining black riding boots. Her bobbed tresses fell beautifully and softly framed her beautiful face.
    “And now Sisters, I will join in Matrimony, the Handsome Groom Margot Marie DeVaughn with her concubine Kimber Leanna. Kimber will assume the surname DeVaughn for the remainder of her natural life. Sister Margot, do you take Kimber to be your lawfully wedded property?” Veronica asked.
    “Do you vow to care for her as anyone would care for any over-indulged, petulant, spoiled, but impotent maiden? Do you agree to discipline her in accordance with the rites, rituals, ceremonies and bylaws of the Cassandra Sisterhood? What does thou say, Sister Margot?” Veronica asked.
    “In the name of Cassandra, Hera and the Sisterhood, I attest to fulfill my duties as Husband and Master of my bride,” Margot promised.
    “And you, the Concubine Kimber Leanna. Do you promise to love, honor and obey your husband and master, Margot, in everything she requires of you? Do you promise to cook, clean, and tend to all of her needs sexual and otherwise? Do you vow to keep yourself, pretty, slim, alluring and sexy, so your husband may always be proud of you? What is your answer, Kimber Leanna?”
    “In the names of all the She-Gods. In the names of the Goddesses of the Wicca’s and The Shield Maidens. To the Goddesses of the Grecian Temple Prostitutes and the Celtic Sisterhood, I now take the oath of a Cassandra Sissy Wife. I vow with all my heart and soul, to please my husband in everything I shall do and I beg her to discipline me should I fail her,” I said, with my head bowed and my eyes lowered.
    “With the power vested in me as a Justice of the Peace in California as well as my powers as a Cassandra Priestess, I pronounce you Husband and wife. Margot, you may now take ownership of your bride by kissing her,” Veronica said.
    I felt Margot’s hands on my shoulders. She turned me to face her. Then with her fingers underneath my chin, she raised my head so I could look at her. With that she gave the sign that I was now free to look up and around, and no longer look down and at the floor.
    At last she pulled me to her. Prior to kissing me she said, “I know your ass is on fire right now. When we arrive at our room in Sedona I fully intend to heat up the inside of your rectum,” she warned.
    Then we kissed. The joy that comes with the taste of two lipsticks melding in love is indescribable. Margot was wearing my favorite lipstick. Black Plum. I was wearing wet-look Magenta by Guerlain. It is unfathomable how good it tasted as our lips met.
    As we minced behind the Priestess into the reception hall, I looked into the eyes of everyone, proud that I was now a Trophy resting upon Margot’s arm. During the reception Aunt Matilda spoke to us, though she was really speaking directly with Margo. “Jasmine Laurent asks that you give her twenty minutes notice prior to leaving the reception. That way her driver can contact her pilot to ready her aircraft,” Aunt Matilda said.
    “Your things are packed and already aboard Jasmine’s private plane. It’s two and a half hours to the air park in Sedona. Plus another forty-five minutes to your Casita at the Winthrop resort. Have a marvelous time girls,” Aunt Matilda smiled as she kissed us both.
    It was around 2:30 PM when Margot looked at her phone and said, “It’s 1:30 PM in Sedona. We’ve been at the reception over three hours. Let’s find Jasmine and sneak off.”
    Jasmine led us to her limo. “I’ll stay and cover for you girls. My driver will return for me. You ladies have a wonderful time. Oh, Kimber. The other night I recalled where I saw you,” Jasmine smiled, looking me in the eye.
   “Yes, It came back to me and just to be certain I called Alana Regal. Remember her, doll? She remembers you. And I told her how much better you looked in a gown, high heels, a Bouffant ‘Do,’ and your lips painted with Plum Lipgloss,” Jasmine laughed as Margot reached under my minidress and pinched my ass.
    I dozed off on the flight. The flight crew transferred our bags to another limo and we were off to a very private Cassandra owned resort property and our very own private Casita.
    At the Casita I asked Margot if we could freshen up and have a nosh?
    “Well, yes. A shower or even a nice bath together would be nice. But I had plenty to eat at the reception. Didn’t you?” Margot asked.
    “Yes, I did. Well there is a large Jacuzzi. Why not a hot bubble bath?” I agreed.
    It was wonderful. We even found some wine, cheese and fruit in our fridge later. I didn’t want to get my hair wet and I didn’t want to ruin my makeup but Margot insisted.
    “You’re beautiful enough the way you are Kimber,” Margot said.
    I did insist on fresh lipstick and blow drying and styling each other’s hair before we jumped into bed. Then I saw the long, double-ended dildo that Margot took from her suitcase along with a tube of KY Jelly.
    I knew she was ready to fully deflower me when she said, “Be certain to remove your little friend from your rectum, precious.”
    I was quite happy that we’d both again used different lipsticks. The mingling and mixing is always very special. We hugged, kissed and fondled each other's breasts and buttocks. I was so steamy hot when Margot forced my freshly blown-dry head between her legs.
    I licked and kissed her clit and her pussy lips. From the classic “sixty-nine” position she also fondled what remained of my penis and testicles. The gnawing feeling in my loins was meditative and truly special in its curiousness.
    Of course I didn’t even come close to achieving an erection but I was sexually stimulated all the same. True stimulation would occur for me when Margot would finally put one end of the dildo inside her puss. Then after slathering my anus with KY-Jelly she entered me. I was positioned passively in front of her on all fours.
    My rectum, over time, as my feminization increased, had become my “hot spot.” Especially my prostate. Margot also wanted me on “all fours” so she could continue to reach around my tummy and play with my “sissy-clitoris.”
    It had been a long, taxing morning and afternoon, between the ceremony, ass-paddling, reception and flight. Now the stress and rigors of the day which had built inside of me began to come to the surface. My passion was boiling over. I wanted to explode.
   Her dildo was inside me, her fingers around my new clitoris. I felt so beautiful, glamorous and loved all at once. As the dildo contacted my prostate one more time, I screamed, I gasped and then shouted. Had Margot not held me tightly by the waist I might have crashed into the headboard.
    It was the most physically violent climax I had experienced up until then, as a “girl.” I still don’t know exactly what happened or what hit me? I know though, that as Margot wrapped me into her arms I felt that my spirit had somehow completed a cycle.
    I felt like the body I was in was actually mine and that I was surely at long last the right person in that body. Yes. I was Kimber. I was Kimber Leanna. To be exact, Kimber Leanna DeVaughn, wife of Margot DeVaughn.
    Our lips met again. I felt my clit now leaking some of it’s milky, white fluid. Margot’s strong arms were around me. She kissed my eyelids and gently touched the side of my smooth girlish face. I was her’s. Her’s forever. Of all the Goddesses now in my life she was the most powerful.

Denouement and Conclusion

    With Margot away for most of the day, and her playing golf with Aunt Matilda, Jasmine and Anastasia, I decided to host a little Hen Party for myself and the girls from our little Cassandra Sissy Wives club. The full club is actually larger, over twenty members, than the four to six girls that generally make it to the two Saturday events we plan every month.
    Not everyone can always get away for several hours on those days. Officially we are the “Sissified Wives of the Cassandra Sisterhood.” We have a meet up which starts at the Salon Fabulous hair salon on the first Saturday of every month. Then on the fourth Saturday, one of the girls will have a sort of food, wine tasting, hair-styling and makeup party at her house.
    Everyone in the club is invited but most of the time just four to six girls show up. Never less than that and occasionally we are pleasantly surprised when more of the girls can make it. Most of the girls have female husbands, though a few are married to real males.
    Of course no real males are ever permitted to be members of the Cassandra Sisterhood. So those girls in the Sissified Wives club, married to men, must have a female family member or other “Significant female” in their lives who has mentored them considerably throughout their feminization.
    It is that “Significant female” or family member, that is the Cassandra Sister that “Patrons” these girls with male husbands, into the Sissified Wives club. It could be their mother, sister, aunt, other female relative or even a female employer who is a member in the Sisterhood.
    Deborah, one of the girls in our little group, that has already had SRS, is a prime example. Deborah’s mother, an attorney, decided when Deborah was in very early puberty, that her Deborah would never really have a chance in the “Big bad world” of high finance or anything close to that vocation.
   She steered her “Debbie” towards feminine pursuits such as hairdressing, fashion design, making curtains, or just mundane housekeeping. When Deborah began to show an interest in panties and high heels her mother brought in a Governess to nurture her.
    By the time Deborah was sixteen she was attending a local, private, all-girls high school as a day student. At eighteen she found herself in a two-year, all-female, junior-college-level finishing school. Again, she lived close enough where she didn’t have to board.
    However, Deborah’s mother, a member of the Cassandra Sisterhood, realized Deborah would need the “polish” that came with spending a year or two behind the walls of a Winthrop Institute establishment, if she was ever going to be able to marry Deborah off.
    Deborah had numerous suitors as a student at Winthrop, but showed a very strong predilection for strong, handsome men. Finally, a man almost twenty-years older than her, a retired Pro-football player and sportscaster, fell in love with her.
    Deborah is elated to be shown off on his arm at sporting events as his latest “Trophy.” She is the consummate girly-girl and housewife and likes nothing better than to have her hair and nails done just to look good for him. The way she talks they have a very actives sex-life too.
    At the gatherings we have at one of the girl’s private residences all of us talk about intimate things that we feel comfortable “sharing” with our Sissy Sisters. Sometimes one of the girls might tell us how much better she feels, now that she has had her testes “snipped” off. Another might agonize over her impending castration.
    This is where our little club has become so critical in our lives. When one of the girls expresses the anxiety she has over being gelded in a couple of weeks, the other girls who have already been neutered will talk with her and calm any fears she might have.
    I know that of the two-dozen or so members in our little Sissy Club, about half of them have been “clipped” and maybe another one-fifth have had the full surgery or are planning on it. However most of our get-togethers are really fun events.
    This last time we met at the new home Margot and I now live in, the six of us that were there, all brought a little dish of low-calorie, vegan food. We all watch our waistlines and weight, really carefully. We sipped a little wine, did each other’s hair and nails, played with makeup, and traded gossip about the other girls. Everyone was so sweet that day and helped me clean up the little bit of a mess we did make.
    I kept my hair in curlers until I could see that Margot had left the golf course and was about fifteen minutes from the house. Then I took out the curlers, did my hair, sprayed it in place and touched up my makeup.
    Margot has made amazing strides in her career since we married four years ago. She finished her Master’s and thru her Aunt Matilda’s connections she is now the Senior Administrator at a major hospital in the Los Angeles County area.
    I still work part-time at Anastasia’s Hideaway as a hostess, and occasionally perform with Anastasia when she’s there. When Margot finally got home, I met her in heels, panties, a brassiere and a Crepe de Chine floral wrap. I was really trying hard to be coquettish and sexy and she knew it.
   “Did you have fun playing at the course today honey? Would you like a cocktail and a little bite to eat?” I ask, my implanted B-cup, pointy tits thrusted out.
    “No, Kimber. We ate at the club. I don’t want a strong mixed drink right now. I had a pretty stiff Margarita at the Country Club and that was enough,” Margot said, looking up and down, over my pert frame.
    “What I could really use though, is a nice long soak in a hot tub scented with bath salts and maybe a glass of Chardonnay? Do you think you could arrange that, pumpkin?” Margot purred.
    “Yes I could, as a matter of fact. One hot, scented bath-tub, and a glass of chilled Chardonnay. I’ll hold the bubbles,” I cooed as I waltzed off like a good girl.
    Once Margot was in the tub, sipping the wine, I showed up in the same outfit except I was wearing a maid’s tiara and a smart, heart-shaped apron. I had a loofa in one hand and the Chardonnay bottle in the other. “Could I help by scrubbing you, Margot?” I asked.
    “Yes. You can start by doing my back. I wouldn’t mind you washing and conditioning my hair either. Before I do leave the tub, I think you should clean my tits and my pussy,” she added.
    When Margot at last stood up on the bath mat just outside the large tub, I toweled her dry and put moisturizer and powder on her. I blew dry her hair as she sipped a second glass of wine.
    “That’s enough. My hair is dry enough. I want you in my bed, Princess. Now, Kimber,” she demands.
    “Oh Kimber you are just the sweetest wife,” Margot says as I kissed her tits laying beside her after eating her puss.
    When she says things like that to me, I could almost start crying from happiness. I’ve become such a soppy, emotional girl since our wedding day. But that’s my life. I live for Margot and her approval.
    As long as she approves I’m very happy. If she disapproves I take my spanking and strive to do much better. Sometimes, when I get bored and maybe our sex life needs just a little help, well, I’ll be a little bit of a bad girl. Maybe?
    You know? Not a real bad girl, just a teeny-weeny bad girl. Maybe I’ll insist, just a little bit, that I want to eat at a restaurant Margot wouldn’t be caught dead at? Or I’ll dress a little bit slutty when Margot really wants me to look like “Little Miss Prissy-Prim.”
    Sometimes I think she knows what I’m doing, but I’ll still wind up over her lap, kicking my legs and screaming while she spanks my plump, round ass with a beautifully engraved Nineteenth Century hardback hairbrush.
    Then of course as she soothes me and I promise to be a good girl from now on, we wind up in her boudoir. Sometimes, never always, being a teeny-weeny, bit of a bad girl, pays off.

End 

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From Priscilla:

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