Subjugated Step Sissy (Part 1) - Illustrated

By Priscilla Gay Bouffant

(A father tires of a recalcitrant son. His new wife offers to make a trade.)

ONE: Intro

Dad and Brent were leaving for Europe for two months. School had just let out. They would not return until early August. Brent was my new stepbrother. His mom, Nicole, had married dad about 3 months before. Brent was 23, in grad school, and he and my father had become the best of buddies during the time Nicole and dad had dated and been engaged. Brent just loved to do the same things dad enjoyed. Play golf, tennis and watching sports on TV. He even took an interest in dad’s business.

Me, I enjoyed smoking dope, partying with hot chicks and working at the cool nightclub where I tended bar. When mom and dad had split up it was hard for me to decide which one to move in with. I had so little in common with either of them. Not that, at 22, I wasn’t old enough to support myself. I just had no desire to do so. It was easier to have someone else do it for me. That way I could spend my cash on cool stuff.

It came down to disliking mom’s new boyfriend more than Nicole and Brent, so I stayed with dad. Besides, not only was Nicole really hot looking, she had a live in maid named Virginia that was a real looker also. The thing that did bug me the most about Nicole was that she was always changing things.

Her latest venture was remodeling a section in the rear of the house. The decorator, a Miss Natasha, was a really strange, but a very well preserved old gal. The whole remodeling thing was a big secret. Besides the workers, only Nicole, Natasha, and of course, Virginia, or "Ginny" (as Nicole liked to call her) were permitted into the locked area.

As dad and Brent were leaving for the airport, Nicole and dad were going over some last minute stuff. Dad sent Brent to the company limo with the driver and the bags. I’d just smoked a number in my room and was looking for Ginny to get me some breakfast when our lovely maid came into the foyer to tell Nicole that Miss Natasha was on the phone.

"Thanks Gin," Nicole said, as she gave dad one final goodbye hug and kiss, smiled and added, "Please don’t forget to explain everything to Brent dear. Every detail if possible. I want him to fully understand everything we’ve decided to do and why."

Dad smiled back and answered, "Don’t worry darling. Brent will be well prepared and I’m certain he’ll not only understand, but will agree with our decisions." Truthfully, I only remembered this because I was within earshot. I didn’t care what they were talking about. I only wanted some breakfast. Dad and I nodded our goodbyes to one another, and as he went out the door, I followed Ginny into the kitchen. It was funny. Usually he always had cautioned me, "Behave yourself Ron. One day your insubordination is going to catch up with you." He usually said this with a stern gaze. This time though he was completely silent and at ease.

TWO: Subbed

Things got really busy around the house in the days after dad left. You’d think a wedding was being planned. Besides all the decorating of the new living spaces, some woman named Anna, from a specialty clothing store started coming around. She really gave me the creeps. It seemed like she was always staring at me. A full figured honey blond with a ‘chichi’ fashion cut she reeked of "attitude." Had the bad habit of looking down her nose at me and calling me "Ronnie".

However, whatever she called me, she wasn’t part of my scheme. I had plans. Big plans. I’d ccme back to the house early one evening and smelled marijuana smoke. I was certain Nicole and Ginny were getting loaded. I wondered, if I got high with them if I could maybe get a threesome going. I found out soon. Unfortunately it turned out much different then I had planned. Nicole had never really been harsh towards me. For the most part she’d stayed out of all the problems dad and I had, occasionally hoping that we "could get along better".

The week after dad left, both she and Ginny were quite friendly towards me. In fact, two days after the remodeling of the rear wing of the house was complete Nicole suggested the three of us have a "grand unveiling" party on the following Sunday. We started about 10 A.M. or so. Nicole broke out some wine and weed. Just as I suspected! Oh boy!

Around noon, with me feeling no pain, the girls decided we should go back and "break in the new rooms". Things were getting better. Then the doorbell rang.

"Oh, Ronnie dear, why don’t you see who it is," Nicole smiled. She had also taken to calling me Ronnie, instead of Ron. I did as she asked. In my inebriated state it never dawned on me that answering the door, was part of the maid’s duties. To my chagrin, both Anna and Natasha were at the door and dressed unusual, even for them.

Usually both women were fashionably attired, and along with consideration towards their lines of work (decorator and boutique proprietor supposedly) they tended to lean towards the avant-garde. In this case though, they’d outdone themselves.

Both were garbed to resemble garish hookers. Each wore leather slacks and tops, Anna in red and Natasha in white. Their ankle boots matched and had slight heels on them. Their makeup was extravagant, their brows being penciled and arched to give them a haughty look. Their coiffures were lavishly styled, swept back and up.

Over their shoulders they held medium to large sized handbags. "Well Ronnie, don’t just stand there. Invite us in. We’re here to join in the grand unveiling also", smiled Anna, wickedly. I invited them in, then stood in the foyer surrounded by all four women, Nicole and Ginny having joined us.

I felt uncomfortable, and then even more so, as Anna took hold of my arm and propelled me towards the rear of the house. "Let’s go look at the new suite of rooms, darling," she said seductively. I went along with her most of the way, especially when she let her butt and thigh rub against mine. Ginny reached the door to the newly decorated segment of the house, opened it and held it for Nicole who welcomed us in. Anna steered me so as to be in front of her and gave me a rough shove through the door She, Ginny and Natasha quickly entered the room as I complained to Anna about pushing me.

"Be careful Anna", I said. Much to my surprise she backhanded me. I was so shocked I had no time to act. Before I knew it both Ginny and Nicole were upon me and wrestled me to the floor. I’m no slouch. I stand a couple of inches under six feet and at the time weighed about 165.

Be that as it may, Ginny and Nicole were about my height and though they weighed less they were in great shape. If they were guys they’d be described as wiry. They also had on casual exercise type garb which made them very agile. Anna and Nicole were only a little shorter in stature. Once Ginny and Nicole got me to the floor the more buxom and very imposing Natasha and Anna joined in to hand cuff me. Once my pants and underwear were pulled down, my shoes having not been on, Anna loaded up a syringe and gave me a shot in the butt, before they all bound my ankles.

Struggling and shouting I was carried to a chair where I was strapped in before having my mouth covered with silver duct tape. What was scary was that the four females said hardly a word and were obviously skilled and practiced at this, as if they had done it before, as a team. Once they were certain my bindings were secure, and that my voice was sufficiently muffled, they made their way towards a refrigerator near the rear of the main room.

As if what had transpired was all in a days work, Ginny began to hand out refreshments and the ladies took turns using what was apparently a bath or powder room to freshen up. Still futilely struggling and groaning I decided to relax and appraise the suite and my conditions.

It, the area, was quite large. The immediate room was mostly carpeted though there was an exercise area with gym equipment to my far left. To the far right was a set of double doors that looked like it led to a boudoir. Straight ahead was what I thought was a bath area, which turned out to be a combination of bath, powder and dressing room, complete with walk in closets.

Looking back to my left towards the gym area, and then moving in a clockwise direction I again noted the refrigerator. Between it and the bath area was a hospital gurney with some sort of machine with probes and wires attached. More to the right between the bath and the apparent boudoir was a small cubicle that looked like a station at a hair salon, which included a vanity, hair dryer, and sink.

The walls were painted in bright pastels and the curtains and decor were very fussy. Once the ladies were refreshed, they moved towards me and seated themselves on the furniture in the center of the plush room. Natasha and Anna sat on opposite ends of a sofa, opening their bags and producing what turned out to be implements of discipline. Nicole and Ginny sat on easy chairs at either end of the sofa.

As the drug Anna had injected in me took effect, Nicole began: "Well Ronnie, or maybe we should make it Rhonda? I’m sure you’re wondering what is going on. By the way. if you were a girl, would you like to be called, Ronnie, Veronica, or Rhonda? You’ll have to think about that, if indeed you have a preference, or you’ll be stuck with whatever name I give you."

I was getting scared. This woman sounded insane. She continued. "Okay, here goes. Your father is seriously disappointed with you, which is putting it mildly. He’s fed up with the court appearances, the money wasted on them, having to support you and the embarrassment you cause him. You are interested in nothing besides goofing off. I, personally, am as appalled as he is."

She let this sink in before continuing. "This great idea came to me, after he told me how much he adored my Brent. He referred to him as the son he always wanted. You have to admit Brent is everything you’re not, Ronnie. I was thrilled for your father and at the same time thought about how much I’d always wanted a daughter. Then I thought of this family I met when I took a sabbatical in England. They, and other wealthy families like them, would petticoat their truculent males."

Now she was really beginning to scare me. After a pause by her and some increased squirming and squealing through my gag by me, she picked up where she had left off. "In a word Ronnie, I’ve convinced your father to permit me, carte blanche, in turning you into a endearing, obedient, sweet daughter that the entire family will adore to have around. Won’t that be lovely?"

She moved towards me for affect, sweeping her arm about the room. "That’s the purpose of all this Rhonda. This is your training, beautification and living spaces. Actually I did the entire decoration and chose most of the clothes. You see Anna and Natasha actually train females to work as dominant mistresses. They helped pick out the specialty clothing and discipline gear and have volunteered to assist me. They own their own boutiques, so to speak."

She stood directly before me prior to really letting the hammer fall. "Don’t fret dear. I’ve promised your daddy I would not geld you as long as you cooperate. Even then, I know a surgeon who says it usually only takes the removal of one testicle to assure compliance. Who knows? In your case, the strict discipline, some humiliation and massive hormone doses will preclude all that."

She stood behind me and began to undo the knot in the kerchief that had been snugly tied over my taped mouth. "Don’t worry Ronnie dear. I’ll take things slow. I’ll dress you as a sissy boy for a while before you go full girly boy. Intense humiliation is all part of my scheme."

The scarf removed, she began to peel the tape slowly before zipping it quickly off my face and lips, asking me sweetly, "So what will it be Ronnie? Compliance or some real corporal discipline? Oh by the way. Have you chosen a name yet, or should mommy name her little lady boy?"

I unleashed a tirade of absolute filth and profanity. It spewed forth from my mouth in a hysterical denunciation of these evil females. I spared none of them, so naturally when it came to punishment time, they hardly spared me.

When I was finished, Nicole looked at me quizzically and said, "So you want mother to pick your name? That’s fine. It will be Rhonda. Veronica is too ostentatious, and Ronnie a little too gender neutral. I want my girl to be feminine and fun loving. Rhonda works."

She then got a little more stern. "However, Rhonda can’t have a filthy mouth and has to be a little more acquiescent. So ladies, why don’t we give her a little sedative, get the rest of her clothes off, and take her over to the gurney for some treatment and alterations? Shall we?"

Anna readied another syringe while both Ginny and Natasha stood beside me. When Anna got close and I began to squirm and curse, Natasha prodded me a stun gun which elicited a shriek from me and laughter from everyone else. Once the needle hit my butt and the muscle relaxer released into my system, I became as languid as a rag doll. Three of the women began to remove my slacks as Natasha stood close with her stunner.

My binds were loosed and my shirt and underwear removed. They practically dragged me to the gurney. Naked, doped and terrified, I was strapped down securely and made to be immobile. My head, neck, torso and appendages were incapable of any movement. Ginny wheeled a stand over near me, that held an enema bag with an attached tube.

Meanwhile Anna moved a machine over that looked like an EKG apparatus although it wasn’t. She and Natasha began to attach clips, suction cups and circular fasteners to my penis, testicles, ear lobes and nipples. Finally Nicole lubricated a rubberized probe and slowly inserted it into my rectum. Then they waited for the sedative to wear off.

While the serums effectiveness waned, Anna went over how the device functioned, explaining to the rest of the women the purpose of each knob and in turn how they controlled the clips on my ear lobes, the loops around my penis and balls, the suction cups on my nipples and lastly the tube in my rectum.

After a time Anna reached over and pinched my butt, really squeezing it hard. When I yelped she declared me "ready." I was scared, truly frightened. Anna and the other three women took turns operating the machine. First my nipples would tingle, then my earlobes. The next moment the straps around my penis and scrotum would tighten, followed by the probe in my rectum starting to swell. Then things would slack off briefly.

For a time each discomfort was initiated individually, but as the other women got better at it Anna would have them combine two, three or all of the actions together. Soon enough, the intensity of each irritation increased and I began to sweat, squirm and whine. "Don’t worry Rhonda, after your last physical the doctor said you were as healthy as a

horse. In this case, a filly," Nicole laughed and added, "You’ll be fine. Anna is an expert and she’s watching you closely."

As I could barely move, the ladies loosened my bonds somewhat and my writhing and wriggling increased. Ginny commented that my gyrations resembled those of a stripper or a belly dancer. At first I let out a few invective curses, but in a matter of time I began to beg and plead.

Nicole clapped her hands and delightfully said, "Oh good, she may be coming around. If you really want us to stop Rhonda, tell mother you want to be her sweet little lady boy. Even if we do stop you still have a paddling and enema coming. You’ll have to ask us for those also."

I couldn’t hold out much longer and finally broke. Sobbing and pleading, I hysterically begged and asked her to let me be her lady boy. Though I was scared out of my wits, I was only broken for the time being. As soon as they lessened the intensity of the treatment I began thinking about one day getting out of this situation.

My shaking stopped and I realized they had ceased tormenting me for the moment. "I really don’t want to have to dope her anymore today. Let’s see if we can get her to cooperate under duress, instead of medication," Anna suggested.

Nicole told me I had to plead sweetly to her about being her little lady boy, then I had to ask for a "nice" spanking and enema. I did so repeating what I’d said previously and adding in a plea for a spanking and rectal cleansing. I this case the spanking would actually be a paddling and thrashing.. Natasha began to loosen my bonds. She had both Ginny and Nicole showed me what would happen if I resisted. Zap! Nicole applied the stun gun to one of my bare soles and Ginny did the same with another stunner to my neck behind one of my ears. I convulsed and yelped, assuring them I’d behave.

I was turned over on my stomach and my butt was propped up with some big pillows. My wrists were fastened to the sides of the gurney. "Let’s take turns ladies. The sissy needs to cry some little girl tears. Count each swat Rhonda and make sure you thank us for every smack" Natasha intoned.

Whap! "Yow!" I squealed. They were using a big wooden paddle with tiny wholes in it. As each slap from the paddle fell, I yelped, and began to punctuate my yelping with shrieks and screams. As much as I begged and pleaded, they only stopped when they got tired. Not only did they slam my ass cheeks, someone, probably Nicole, added skillfully applied strokes to my thighs, with a dressage whip. After a short break, through which I sobbed hysterically, Ginny began my enema.

She started the water flow slowly before filling me to nearly bursting. My tear filled pleas to evacuate my bowels were ignored for some time. Even though my bonds were now fully unfastened, I was so broken for the moment, I dared not leave the gurney.

When they did finally give me permission to use the toilet, I scampered to the bathroom, getting there just in time. No sooner had I evacuated and wiped myself, the ladies began running me a bath. While the tub filled, Ginny took me into another room for a depilatory treatment and shower, warning me that the other three women were near by, ready to assault me if I tried an escape.

Later, while soaking in the heavily scented bath, full of bubbles and bath salts, I considered my predicament. I had no idea the extreme measures Nicole had taken to insure my acquiescence. I’d shortly find out. My sore body came to life somewhat in the tub and I enjoyed being bathed and shampooed by Ginny. "You’ll do this for yourself, next time Rhonda. I’ll be teaching you how to do your hair, nails and makeup, but after a while you’ll do all that for yourself.

My bath completed she stood back while I toweled dry, Nicole watching from the wings. I truly felt ridiculous when Ginny had me powder, lotion and perfume myself, before she handed me a panty brief. The reinforcement in front made me look girlishly flat. I had to slip on a pair of two-inch heels with ankle straps and locks, before putting on a heavily ruffled, lemon yellow bed jacket. It barely came to my crotch.

I was directed to wrap my hair up turban style in a big, pink fluffy towel, and after three tries Ginny had to do it for me. I had real trouble walking on my new heels and made quite a display of myself, when I walked into the main room. So much so that the ladies clapped and whistled, taunting me with, "Don’t worry honey, we’ll have you sashaying like a runway model before you know it!"

Nicole shook her head and motioned for me to sit. Once seated she and the rest of the ladies decided to do a quick lunch. I again became a spectacle as I helped Ginny serve the light fare. I wobbled about on my unfamiliar heels, not realizing that these were only two inch and I’d be wearing much higher ones in the future.

It had been a long morning. Only 3 P.M. and I had much left that I would go through. I got a glimpse of myself in a mirror while I ate my fruit compote. Towel wrapped about my head, turban style, and in a hot pink! My smoothed, shaved legs, knees together, as the ladies had insisted I sit that way. The fussy bed jacket, I wanted to puke.

Lunch completed, I was made to assist Ginny cleaning up. "You’ll be doing more of her work in the future, Rhonda," Nicole warned me. She then had me lay back down on the gurney so the women could all work on me as Nicole filled me in on the hopelessness of my situation.

While Ginny gave me both a manicure and pedicure, Natasha pierced my ears. Anna was preparing another syringe. "Here, I want you to take this pill, Rhonda," Nicole intoned, adding, "I’m putting you on female hormones. We’ll call these your titty pills," she said as all the ladies chuckled. As I sat up to swallow the pill with some water, Anna approached. "Give me a little room, ladies," added Anna. "I want to give the princess her first hormone booster," she said as she approached me with the syringe.

My stepmother continued. "Then we need to get you started on some collagen shots. In case you wondered, Anna worked years back for a doctor who catered to all varieties of cross-dressers, transvestites, transsexuals. She knows all the tricks, sweetheart!" said Nicole as Anna gave me a portion of the syringe in the butt and the rest in my breast area.

Once she completed that she prepped another syringe. I supposed this was the collagen. I glanced down at my bright pink toenails, and then over to where Ginny was now doing my fingernails. "Turn you head this way Rhonda," Natasha ordered. "I need to thin your eyebrows," she added as she began to pluck hairs.

I wanted to cry, but managed to hold it in. While my nails were being done, brows plucked and lips pricked, Nicole filled me in on her plans to assure my compliance. "You may as well consider it impossible to get out of this or away from here. I have your father’s full cooperation. The doors to this suite of rooms electronically bolt shut, as do all the doors to the house. The windows are barred and all exits you may try are alarmed locally," she said smugly before moving on.

"We even have monitors to watch you if we wish. Should you set off an alarm, whoever is in the house will hear it. You won’t get far, I can assure you. Your father has already given me permission to have one of your testicles removed should you try to escape or use violence against anyone in this household, or involved with your transformation, for that matter. I hope you understand me clearly," she stated as I shuddered in fear.

"One of the reasons you won’t get far is this. You will always, while in the house, not directly supervised, be wearing a heel height, much to tall for you. They will be locked on. About the best you’ll be able to do is totter or prance, instead of run. You may as well try and escape wearing ice skates. Of course when supervised you’ll wear appropriate clothing for the circumstances," she smiled as she let it sink in.

"Until we feel you are trustworthy, someone, more then likely two people, will be with you here and in public. That, plus the fact that your attire will be most difficult to explain, will keep you under wraps. No one for a minute will ever believe that your father and I, are transforming you. Even if someone did, they probably would congratulate us," she added, before wrapping things up.

"The clothing you’ll wear will be most embarrassing. So fussy and frilly that even the most prissy of females would be mortified to be seen attired in it. Most people, when they realize your clothing is an appropriate punishment, will laugh, shrug their shoulders and go about their business," she closed as she took a good look at me.

"Hmm," she said. "Why don’t you make her up a little Ginny. Then let her take a good look at herself in the mirror. When you get finished with her face, have her sit up and then you can do something with her hair before you let her see herself," Nicole added. Ginny nodded and smiled, sticking her tongue out at me and went across the room to retrieve a cart of cosmetics and hair care products. When she returned she began to work on me.

A light touch of foundation and blush, then a pencil to my brows, matching light pink lipstick and eye shadow finished the job. She had me set up and brushed the knots out of my now, still slightly damp hair. Then she jelled my hair, which was somewhat long for a male. It reached my collar and was straight and thick.

She combed it back and tied it off in a knot with a scrunchie. Then she gave me some bangs and snipped them off straight. As she began to spray my hair I pulled away from her and she and Nicole said in unison, "Don’t you dare." I obeyed. She helped me off the gurney and over to a full-length mirror.

"They made me look like a teen girl!"

I walked a little better in the heels but nearly fell when I saw myself. I resembled little of my male self. In fact I was appalled! The smiles on everyone else’s faces told it all. My appearance was that of a flat chested, young teen chick getting ready for a date, or a sissy boy trying to look like a girl!

The fluffy teddy, the heels, the pink lipstick and polish, the sleek shiny look of my light brown hair. I even had a plumed ponytail off to the top right side of my head! "Oh no!" I cried. Please don’t do this to me!" I pleaded as I threw my hands up to cover my face.

"Stop that you silly little bitch! You look great," chimed Nicole, as she appraised me. "I want you to walk around on this tiled portion of the room for us, Rhonda. Make a nice big circle. Keep one hand on your hip, like this and hold the other arm, this way with a cute limp wrist. Hold your body erect and take small dainty steps. That’s it honey. Walk pretty for mommy." Nicole ordered as she eyed me up and down.

I balked momentarily and she added, "Hesitate or screw it up anything purposely and we’ll stun the shit out of you with these prods." I did just as she told me. As I walked they corrected my mistakes and made other comments. Natasha though my hair was a little to long and straight for a sissy boy. Nicole agreed and had Ginny make a note to call someone named Nanette.

We all ate later that afternoon and luckily for me there were no more clothing changes although a few accessories were added to my ensemble. As if I didn’t feel foolish enough in what I was wearing, I was taken to my new room and shown my closets and dressers brimming over with frills and more frills. "Natasha and Anna will be taking your abominable male clothing with them when they leave tomorrow afternoon," said Nicole.

That meant I had nothing male to escape in unless I could get to Brent or dad’s room. I was taken to the corner of my bedroom, where there was a pedestal with two small steps as well as a mirror. Made to face the mirror I had to hold my arms up and grip a lacing trapeze. Once my wrists were fastened to the bar, the lacing trapeze was raised until I was on my tip toes.

Already wearing heels, my feet were now arched even more. I gasped, only to be smacked on the rump by Nicole. Anna and Natasha excused themselves to go box up my male things so they’d be ready for donation to the thrift shop. I sobbed a little at the thought. I was in deeper and deeper. Ginny removed my shoes and then my panty brief. After putting a garter belt on me she put my brief back in place. Then she took a white pair of slip up stockings and dangled them in front of my face. Laughing she slid these up my legs, attaching them to the garter belt.

"Ooh, you are going to look so sexy Rhonda. Actually I should call you Ronnie until you dress fully as a girl. Miss Ronnie of course," she commented. Then she and Nicole got a pair of the most hideous looking boots out of the shoe closet. These were white calfskin with what turned out to be four-inch heels! They came midway up my calf and laced the whole way. Like the corset they would soon put on me, the boots locked in place!

As Nicole held me still, Rhonda worked these implements of torture onto my feet. While Rhonda laced them up Nicole apprised me of some new etiquette rules she was implementing. "Rhonda, from now on, all females you speak to will be addressed as ma’am or miss. I will be mother or ma’am. Is that clear?"

"Yes ma’am, I understand," I answered. I actually got some relief once the shoes were on my feet and fully laced. The higher heel actually took some pressure off my torso and arms which had been extended by the raising of the lacing bar. Not to be outdone, Nicole had Ginny raise the bar a few more inches again increasing my discomfort. "Your torso and waist have to be fully extended in order for the waist cinch to work properly," Nicole explained as I gasped again.

The worst was far from over, though. Lifting my bed jacket up out of the way, and over my head, they placed the corset around my torso. Nicole mused, "Her natural waist is around 30 inches, Gin. Let’s try for 27 inches on the first cinch up. "Here we go," she cried, as she and Ginny began to lace me up. Almost instantly I began to feel the constriction as they tightened the laces.

As they got tighter I thought I would faint and began to whine about the awful lacing. The two women ignored me, laughing the whole time. They would actually stop to rest, measure me and then continue. By the time I was at 27 inches I could barely breathe. What a relief when Ginny lowered the trapeze! I expelled a huge breath of respite.

"Feel better dear?" Ginny asked. I actually nodded and smiled. "Good honey, because we are going to leave you there. It’s all part of proper figure training," she stated, as she closed my bed jacket, and tied the sash snugly at the waist. I begged and pleaded for them to release me, but they went from the room laughing and as I heard them close the door, Nicole called out, "You’d better take a good look at yourself. When we come for you later you’d better staring intently at the sissy in the mirror."

For the next thirty minutes I tried to keep from looking at myself in the full-length mirror in front of me. I was pitifully strung up, all 5 feet, ten inches of me, my increasing effeminate appearance made more obvious by my helplessness and my newly shaped girlish waist and figure. The makeup was subtle enough so that I still appeared a garish, girlish boy, especially with my flat chest.

It was difficult, however to keep from observing my horrible appearance. Not only did I have nowhere else to look, I was suddenly fearful of shutting my eyes for any length of time. I dreaded to imagine just what might happen should any of my tormentors come upon me and I wasn’t looking at my pitiable reflection in the mirror.

I slept fitfully that evening, what with small brush rollers in my hair, the ever so snug corset and the 4-inch heels. Not to mention my ever so sore legs and my insecurities over my future. After I’d been let down form the lacing bar, I’d had to do more walking, this time in my taller heels. About all I could do was stumble from one piece of furniture to the next, much to the amusement of my fan club.

The morning found me scared and angry and plotting futilely on how to escape. I’d been told that if wandered around my suite too much in the evening, I would be fastened to the bed, diapered and made to wear rubber pants in case of an "accident." I made sure to only get up to use the toilet or get a drink of water. I’d left the door to my bedroom open so I did hear Ginny enter the suite through the main door.

Coming into my room she smiled, opened the curtains and greeted me cheerily. "Rise and shine Miss Ronnie. Lets get all pretty, to have breakfast with mother and her friends." I took a deep breath and pondered my fate. "Now don’t be reluctant dear," she added. "We don’t want Ginny to call on the bad ladies with the cattle prods do we? So, are we going to behave? I have a beeper with me. One little push of the button and I’ll have instant reinforcements." I decide to do my best to deceive them until the time was right.

"Yes ma’am Miss Ginny. What is it you’d like me to wear today?" I was certain it would be just gorgeous.

THREE: Dolly Boy

It was going to be another very long day. In fact, right up to my father’s homecoming I would have a series of extremely long days. Not that things became rosy when father and Brent returned. Goodness! Brent! Absolutely impossible. A real demon.

During the aforementioned morning, after Ginny greeted me and gave me her ominous warning, she proceeded to give me instructions and lay my clothing out for the day. "Set on the side of the bed and put your feet up on that divan. I’ll unlock your shoes. Then remove them along with your stockings, garter belt and brief. The clothes go in the wicker hamper in your bath. The shoes in that narrow closet near the big walk in. After that, stand facing that mirror," she said, pointing to a full-length mirror along the far wall.

Once we were both ready she instructed me on dressing. First she had me sit on the divan, roll up and slip on a pair of white ankle socks with lacy pink trim. My pink panty brief with a built in penis pouch was next. As difficult as it was to tuck myself in, Ginny warned me any erection I got would sentence me to wearing a highly restrictive cache sex. Next came a dainty little white slip with shoulder straps. It only came to my waist.

My blouse followed. It was white, starched heavily, with a high, stiff, ruffled collar. After the pearl buttons were fastened they were hidden behind a frothy furbelow that went down the front. The cuffs were also trimmed with a fussy lace. My skirt was next. It was pink, and very brief, the flounces of my frilled panties showed beneath the pleated hem.

As if I had a puzzled look on my face as Ginny explained, "Your skirt is referred to as a mini-poodle. Lets get on your shoes then you can try your make up and I’ll do your hair," she added. Actually, what may have been a puzzled look to her, was one of pleading agony to me.

The shoes were fully in tune with the rest of my hideous ensemble. Black patent leather, two-inch heels, a black bow behind the toe. They had both a strap at the ankle and one that came up the back of the leg and fastened at the lower calf. The heels were two inches, comfortable after the boots of the night before. Of course, just like the corset I had on, they had locks.

Seated at the vanity, I was made to remove the hair net and rollers from my hair, Ginny doing the first roller for me. She then sprayed my hair with water and lightly massaged some jell into the ends of my springy curls. I had to frown. Then she sat down next to me on the vanity took a bottle of foundation and applied it lightly to her face, instructing me to do the same with another bottle.

The evening before I’d been given a lesson in makeup removal. Now this! She then showed me how to apply pink blush, matching eyeshadow, and lipstick. She had me outline my lips in red lip liner before filling them in with a richer and creamy pink. Other then my lips, my makeup was light and subtle as the night before. Lastly she had me pencil in my brows.

Looking at myself in the mirror I still saw an androgynous pansy looking creature. If this wasn’t bad enough, Ginny came behind me and fastened a bow atop my curls with a clip. It was black, and about 6 inches across. "Your mother will be having your hair cut shorter and styled more curly, a true sissy coiffure. When she wants you to look like a real girl we have a gorgeous selection of wigs in that closet to the right of where you put your shoes."

She went on to tell me how I could use one of the long-haired wigs, on a wig stand, to learn to brush a lady’s hair. "I love having mine brushed and so does your mother," she added. I gulped and took a deep breath before standing up. After spraying me with perfume, she put me through a brief class in what to do and how to act at breakfast.

Then she handed me a small purse, which she said I’d have to carry around the house from now on. "It has your lipstick, a hairbrush and the rest of you makeup along with a compact. Just carry it over your shoulder and set it down out of the way, but near you, wherever you go. "Let’s eat," she said and turned to go. I walked as girlishly as possible behind her on my way to the breakfast room. She glanced back and smiled approvingly.

As instructed, I stopped at the door, to let her announce me. "Ladies, I’d like to present, Missy Rhonda!" With another gulp and deep breath I tried to gracefully glide into the room, with a forced smile. I knew I was red faced and ashamed, so much so I was afraid I would burst into tears. Stopping a respectful distance from the table, I paused, collected myself and grabbed the hem of my skirt with my left hand.

Lowering my eyes and not looking at the three women facing me, I listened to their polite, facetious applause. Allowing my right arm to relax and drape casually at my side, wrist bent and limp, with fingers spread, I slid my right foot back, bent my leg at the knee and dipped into a demure curtsey, which I held indefinitely.

I must have been a sight! In two-inch heels I was 6 feet tall and wearing a mini poodle, make up and with a big bow in my curled hair. Add that to the prissy curtsey I was doing, and to these women it had to be laughable.

"Good morning mother. I trust you slept well? I said this is a somewhat breathy falsetto, as instructed by the maid. How embarrassing! Of course it was the only way to get these women to let their guard down. "Good morning to you dear Rhonda. Yes I did sleep well. I would imagine you did also. Rhonda! We have guests for breakfast," my stepmother reminded me.

"Yes, of course," I replied humbly. "Good morning Miss Anna, and to you also Miss Natasha, I trust you both had a nice evening’s sleep." "Yes we did Rhonda," Anna replied. "In fact we slept in your former bed. After changing the linen, of course." Then Natasha spoke to Ginny. "Most impressive Virginia. I’m certain the part you played in Rhonda’s complicity will be handsomely rewarded."

I was excused by my stepmother and told to assist Ginny with the preparation and serving of breakfast. I said, "Yes ma’am," giving another quick curtsey before scurrying into the kitchen. While in the kitchen I discovered all utensils were locked up and inventoried every day.

Not that they thought I’d use a knife to attack someone. Just that they didn’t want me to be able to jimmy locks, or cut away laces or bindings. Serving breakfast from a cart under Ginny’s watchful eye was stressful. There was so much to concentrate on. Each time I served a person I did my little "dip" which was generally not even acknowledged. I knew enough when seated at the table to not speak unless spoken to.

I was completely silent. The women spoke of me and my upcoming transformation as if I were a piece of furniture. When all had finished eating Ginny and I cleared the table. As I got ready to excuse myself, Nicole decided to embarrass me. "Don’t tell me my girly boy is going to leave the table without freshening it’s makeup? Set down, get your compact out of your purse and I’ll tell you what to do, little Miss Thing," my step-mom intoned.

Blushing furiously I did what I was told. Trying not to look anyone in the eye, I followed her instructions as she had me touch up my nose and forehead with powder, my cheeks with blush, and my lips with lipstick. "Now pucker those fat, juicy lips together, my little dandelion. Oh, that’s so, so sweet! Doesn’t she have lovely lips girls?" she said to the other two ladies hoots and catcalls.

Nearly on the verge of tears, I held the mirrored compact high enough and far enough away so as to be able to "primp" my jelled and perfumed curls, as instructed. "You know girls, she’s going to be slaving away all day. What will she ever do if her big hunk of a boyfriend shows up to take her out for a quick bite to eat and her hair is mussed? Let me get some hair spray princess. Extra hold of course. For hard working career girls, just like you," she teased unmercifully to the guffaws of her guests.

Once my curls were sufficiently sprayed, I was enjoined to go into the parlor for further briefing by mother. I stood, while she, Anna and Natasha sat, Ginny busy with the early morning housework. "Well my dear, pretty, step sissy, just a few more things as you start on today’s adventure as Ginny’s little helper."

She spoke slowly and carefully." First off, until we find that you are trustworthy, you are not to answer any phone in this house unless otherwise instructed. To do so would not be wise on your part. You won’t be able to call out as a code must be dialed to get an outside line. Do not answer the door either, unless told to. If someone unexpected rings the bell or knocks, you will go directly to your room and close the door. Stay there until someone comes for you. Your room door locks automatically when it closes. Is that clear?"

I answered "Yes Mother", and she continued. "Your Mondays and Tuesdays will be spent primarily doing housework. Wednesdays and Sundays will be reserved for outings.

Thursday, Friday and Saturday you will be in classes with myself, Anna, Natasha and Ginny, whomever is assigned to you that day."

After letting that sink in, she went on. " Each of us have a detailed booklet carefully drawn up by your father’s secretary describing your schedule for the next six months. You have a copy in your room in the drawer of the nightstand by your lovely canopied bed. I suggest you begin reading it whenever you have any spare time."

She asked the other ladies if they had any input. They suggested she had things well in hand so "mother" finished up. "Myself and Natasha will deal primarily with your charm lessons and wardrobe. Ginny will take care of your housekeeping, and beauty lessons. Anna will concentrate on your medical issues, figure training, and alterations. Of course I’ll deal with any discipline. We will use a demerit system. It’s described in your copy of the manual. Any questions?"

When I replied, "No mother," with the same, dulcet falsetto I’d been using all morning, she sent me off to her bedroom to work with Ginny. As I curtsied and turned away, I made sure to put a slight wiggle in my walk just to impress them. I’d seen enough chicks at the club wiggle to attract guys and I figured I knew what would be considered cute, and what would be sleazy. I was still walking like that when I entered mother’s bedroom to assist Ginny, just in case anyone followed me. I did hear Anna say, "Her voice will need some work."

The problem with putting on this act was that I’d have to keep it up or they would figure out I was planning on getting away. Ginny acknowledged me with, "There you are. What kept you so long? Today is Monday and it’s the heaviest housekeeping day. We also have to do lunch for five. Go to your old room and strip the bed. I’ll be in to show you how to clean a bathroom."

As I excused myself with a "Yes ma’am" and a curtsey she waved me off. "Keep that curtseying to a minimum with me Miss Ronnie. When we’re doing housework it’s all business. Now get busy!" Wow, had I sunk to new depths! I was working for and being ordered around and chastised by a maid. It appeared my humiliations would never cease.

FOUR: A Sissy’s Work

After I had my bed stripped, Ginny went to one of my numerous closets and got me an apron. "This is for heavier housework. It’s blue, and cotton, with just a little white trim. It does tie with a nice big bow though. For regular serving and light housework, like we’ll do tomorrow use this white one with all the fancy lace. Parties and such, you’ll wear special stuff. We’ll get into that later," she explained.

That first day of doing housework was exhausting. Ginny noticed right away. "You’re not in very good shape Miss Ronnie, but don’t you fret. You’ll be doing plenty of aerobic exercising in the little gym in your suite. Nicole and I exercise regularly, along with weights and martial arts lessons," she smiled coyly.

So, they took martial arts. Was that supposed to scare me? I wondered about Anna and Natasha. "Oh by the way, Ronnie. You’ll like aerobics. It will be one of those rare occasions when you won’t have to wear high heels," she grinned. "You’ll still have to wear a corset though. I’m afraid the only time your corset will be off is when you are in the tub, shower, sauna, or pool," she taunted.

As for the housekeeping, after stripping the beds, and emptying the laundry hampers we sorted the laundry and began the wash. Ginny explained that all female dainties, including my own, got hand washed. With the laundry going, Ginny began having me scrub toilets, tubs, sinks and bathroom floors.

"This will be your job from now on, right after you hand wash the lingerie. I’ll show you how to do that task Tuesday. I’ll be making beds right now so meet me in the kitchen when you’re finished here. If I’m not in the kitchen, you’ll find me in one of the bedrooms or the laundry. Bye now," she said as she left.

I was trying my best to tell myself that is was okay for the time being to be dressed as an effeminate pansy, scrubbing toilets and that things would get better once I figured a way out. However, once I began working in Nicole and Dad’s bath, my other three mentors strolled by and began taunting me.

"Nicole, look! Why your little step sissy is scrubbing your urinal. I wonder how he will feel when he does his little brother’s"? Asked Anna, bringing gay peals of laughter from all. I gritted my teeth, stopped what I was doing and clenched my fists, only to hear Natasha say, "Don’t even think about it sweetheart. Just uncouple your fists and get back to work. Any of us could take you one on one. If you’d like us to prove it, meet me in Nicole’s exercise area in 5 minutes."

The three walked off, Nicole promising me I would not be punished if I showed up. "Having your butt kicked will be enough punishment for one day, Rhonda," she teased. I thought about it. Why not wait to make my break once they trusted me to be alone or with one of them? I continued my scrubbing. Nothing was said to me at lunch about not showing up.

When finished with the baths, I found Ginny in the laundry room. One of the hardest things about housework was doing it in high heels. Mine were only 2 inches at the moment, but I did notice that Ginny had on tennis shoes with designer jeans. Nicole was wearing flats that morning and even Anna and Natasha had on casual footwear. I was wearing the highest heels and the most feminine clothes in the house that morning!

Somehow I knew it would be foolish to bring it up. Ginny decided we had time for one more chore before making lunch. "I’m going to give you a quick ironing lesson. I hate to iron. So watch carefully and then do as I do." She started with a simple skirt. Once she was finished she had me try one, pointing out my errors and encouraging me when I was doing it correctly.

Then I slumped, and spread my legs wide to relax and take pressure from my heels off my ankles. She swatted me on the butt with a hairbrush she’d taken from my purse. "Yow, Ginny, that hurt. Why are you being so bossy? I’m really trying here!" I yelled, then realized I may have made a mistake. I had.

"Watch your tone with me you little pansy," she said as she hit me with the brush, again on the butt. Then dropping the brush she pulled one of my arms behind me and bent me over the ironing board. "If you ever raise your voice to me again you’ll regret it. You know why? Because after your mother and I spank the shit out of you. We’ll march you into your room and lash you to the lacing trapeze. Then we’ll flail the dog meat out of you with a leather razor strop," she threatened, with real conviction.

"I’m sorry Ginny, I just didn’t know what I’d done wrong," I pleaded. She let me know what I’d done wrong. "For starters, you slouched. Boys slouch. Sissies don’t. You are no longer a boy. You are a sissy. So, no slouching. Stand nice and straight and tall in your pretty heels, and smile, because you are so glad to be mommy’s sissy. Understood?" she asked as she put more pressure on my arm, until I thought it would break.

Her obvious strength was not lost on me and I begged and pleaded with her to let me go. She did, with promise from me to keep talking sweet, soft, pretty and polite. "I will have to tell your mother, later this evening, however. She may decide to give you demerits. At this Saturday evening’s progress report, she may reveal this to Anna and Natasha. We vote as a group as to the proper chastisement," she closed. I nodded my agreement. Anything to get out of that death grip she had me in!

Soon after she stopped my ironing so we could prepare, serve and eat lunch. It was again light fare, and I had the smallest portion. I realized I was on a diet. Not that I had a big appetite, what with the corset I had on. During lunch, Nicole addressed me. "I’ve called your employer, at that repugnant, pick up palace you call a night club. I informed them you had to resign at short notice, due to you having to move in with your real mother in California." she let that sink in before going on.

"A family emergency of course, with a long and indefinite stay. They will send me your check. Of course you’ll endorse it to pay for your collagen treatments," she said facetiously. Then, pointing to the place in front of me she added, "You shall take your titty pill every day at breakfast. I forgot this morning. I’ll expect you to remind me in the future anytime I should forget. You may take it now, Rhonda."

I answered, "Yes, ma’am," and as I swallowed it she gave me a stern warning. "Rhonda, do not attempt to mess my plans up, by not doing your lessons well, purposely. If we think for a minute you are slacking up in any way, we will take stringent measures. Anna and Natasha have told me of an unusual school, out of state, where the faculty and administration have devoted their lives to training sissies." she said with great pleasure.

I nearly choked on my soup. "Yes dear, there are many special lady boys just like you. Some even live nearby. One day we’ll take outings to visit them so you won’t feel so alone. Won’t that be nice? Your own little sissy playmates! To go back to the school, however, the teachers there just love recalcitrant, late blooming sissies. They enjoy bringing out the girl in them. So keep it in mind," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

This was a real eye opener to me and I began to realize that Nicole would stop at nothing to transform me. I had to get away, get out of these hated clothes. Of course I was made to freshen up, and primp after lunch. "This evening I do expect you to do it without being prompted, Rhonda, and of course after all meals in the future," Nicole warned.

I was then treated to the indignity of having to carry boxes containing my male clothing and belongings out to Anna and Natasha’s cars. "Say bye-bye to your nasty old things Miss Ronnie," Anna mocked, adding, "I should be seeing you again, say, Thursday at about ten," she said as she looked at Nicole for confirmation. Nicole nodded with a smile. I was made to curtsey my goodbye as the ladies hugged each other.

Ginny and I spent the rest of the afternoon at housework, before preparing supper. I remembered to do my primping just for Nicole before she went to bathe. I cleaned up the supper dishes myself under Ginny’s supervision. Ginny then demonstrated for me how to draw and scent a bath before unlocking my corset. After helping me to remove it she left me to undress and bathe myself. "Wear that pink shower cap. When you are done bathing, use the lotion, powder and perfume I will set out for you. Use it liberally or we will just douse you extra heavy," she warned.

As she left the room, she called back, "Scrub your makeup off well. Lipstick only before bedtime." I undressed, put on the cap, and climbed into the tub. Even though it was full of bubbles and smelled of perfume I was relieved to be lying down in the warm soothing water. What a relaxing feeling to be momentarily shed of those awful heels and cinch, not to mention my penis pouch.

I cleaned myself well, knowing I’d be punished if I didn’t. Just about the time I was ready to get out, Ginny came back to examine my chest and legs. "Hmm. The depilatory worked well. You shouldn’t have to shave anywhere for a day or two. Even less, once the hormones kick in," she smiled.

Once out of the tub, I dried off and applied what I hoped would be enough lotion, powder and perfume to please these two. Apparently it was as when I walked into my bedroom wearing a short satin robe, neither woman said anything. My clothes were laid out on the bed. Ginny pointed at them.

"Get on your brief and those satiny knee highs. No hose or belt tonight. Then we’ll get your corset and shoes on," Ginny commanded. I have to say at this time that Nicole looked great, with her wet, strawberry blond hair, the Kelly green satin pajama set and the open toed bedroom slippers with a slight heel. Pointing to my hated 4-inch heeled boots, she said to Ginny, "Why not put her in the pink training boots tonight?

Ginny agreed and Nicole added, "Those only have a three inch heel. I have a couple of little duties I want to teach her before bedtime and I don’t want her tottering around like a baby, unable to do anything constructive. I can’t imagine her sneaking off from here in those shoes either," she laughed.

It was true. The longer I considered my plight; the avenues of escape seemed slimmer. My father worked for a large multi national conglomerate. They paid him quite handsomely for his services. At the time he was overseas setting up a large office for one of the corporation’s European subsidiaries. He had bought the estate we lived on for the privacy and security.

It was 2 miles from the nearest neighbor and 10 from the closest major development or shopping area. The grounds were close to 2.5 acres and surrounded by a 6 foot high brick security wall. One had to enter the drive through an electronically activated steel gate. Generally the gate was left open during daytime hours when the house was occupied, but almost always closed at night.

People hired by my dad’s company maintained the grounds. They came and went without ever coming in the house. I thought about what it would be like to scale the gate or wall in those hated heels and lingerie. Also, would I want to show up on someone’s doorstep in that apparel? No. For any flight from here I would need access to Brent or dad’s clothing, or at least the women’s jeans and sneakers.

Nicole had unlimited wealth and my father’s full cooperation at her disposal in my trans formation. I shuddered. My reverie was broken by Ginny removing my shower cap and putting a hairnet over my locks. Then she bade me to put on the satiny white socks she handed me and to roll then down to mid calf. Slipping the boots onto me feet she had me lace these up before she fastened them with the ominous shoe locks.

That over with I half tottered and half minced over to the lacing trapeze for another awful cinching with my figure former. "You are going to have a lovely shape very soon Rhonda. Don’t fret, you’ll go from the corset to a simple cinch and one day will need only the minimal foundation garments, "said Nicole, enthusiastically.

After I’d been pulled in to near fainting again Nicole measured me and announced a successful 27 inches. "Ginny, you may go and bathe. I’ll finish Rhonda’s toilet and dressing. You can meet us in the parlor," she added. While I slithered into a snowy white ankle length fully frilled nightgown, she told me why I need not go through the waist cinching every night.

"Some evenings you won’t need to bathe so we will have no need to remove your corset. Once you begin to grow breasts, wear a bra, and your waist slims to about 25 inches, we can use a simple cinch. Come here my pretty pansy. I want to put this collar and leash on you to make you more controllable," she announced.

While she attached the collar and leash she bade me to bring along a hair brush, comb, conditioner, a blow dryer, a nail care kit, and of course my ever present purse. Putting everything in a small carry bag, I placed the bag over one shoulder and my purse over the other. I then very daintily followed behind my mentor as she walked me on my leash to the plush entertainment parlor. She motioned for me to stand behind the couch while she loaded the multi CD player and tuned on the full surround sound system.

The first selection was a collection of Streisand show tunes. She had me sit on the edge of the couch, knees close together and use my compact and lipstick to apply a nice bright coat of coral pink to my lips. I was then taught how to apply the tangle free conditioner and comb out the tiny knots in a lady’s hair. As Ginny came into the living area, resplendent in a set of pajama’s identical to Nicole’s except in burgundy, Nicole called out to her, "Gin, is that Jean Nate’ our darling charge is wearing? Ginny nodded and explained it was the perfume she had left out for me.

"Well it smells lovely on her. I believe we should insist she wear it always. It should be her signature scent," Nicole inferred. I stood behind her, balanced on my heels and continued to comb through her hair, while Ginny went over my insolence in the laundry room. I stiffened, only to have Nicole snap, "You may continue with my hair, Missy Rhonda." Once Ginny completed her discourse Nicole mused and then announced I’d get 4 demerits.

"Probably no more then an over the knee hairbrush spanking at Saturday’s progress meeting. If you are good the rest of the week, we may even forego it Rhonda," she ended, before getting up to rinse the conditioner from her hair. I was then given a lesson in blow dry styling. Ginny stood next to me until I got the hang of it. I moved the dryer in a circular motion while using the brush to smooth Nicole’s hair.

I only enjoyed this at all because of my sexual attraction to Nicole. When completed, Nicole examined herself using my compact and said casually, "Not bad Rhonda. Ginny, let’s get her started on some nail care lessons before we send her to bed for her beauty sleep." I was told to kneel to give the pedicure first. After putting a towel underneath, I washed Nicole’s feet.

Again, following Ginny’s directions I massaged lotion into my step-mom’s feet and waited for it to dry. Then I carefully cleaned the cuticles before putting the cotton balls in place and beginning the painting of her nails. Just as I later would with her fingers I used a clear bottom coat, 2 color coats and a sealer coat.

While I was in the process of painting her finger nails, Nicole remarked that Ginny should "watch out" as I may take her job. Until then I was actually somewhat enjoying this sort of intimate contact with Nicole. Even if I was being servile, her voice sounded sexy and relaxed when she talked. I could easily imagine being in bed with her and Ginny.

When Ginny answered, "Why yes Nicole, I think Miss Ronnie would make a lovely maid," those sexual thoughts went right out the window and I was back in my place for the time being. Since then, I have actually met more then a few sissy maids who actually enjoy being servile and scraping.

Before I was allowed to go to bed, Nicole made me do a little "spin" around the living room in the three inch heels, making certain I took dainty steps, limped my wrists, and wiggled my rear. She and Ginny made much of the fact that I was "tall enough to be a fashion model." Once my walk was over, Nicole insisted I give both she and Ginny kisses on their cheeks, followed by a curtsey to each of them.

I accompanied the curtseys with "Goodnight Mother," and "Goodnight Miss Ginny," and was then told to "sashay" my way to my room. I did so until I was out of sight, though any sort of macho walk would be out of the question, flamboyantly attired as I was.

I entered my suite, knowing when I closed the door I’d be locked in. I thought of leaving it open, then realized it might be too soon. I should get them used to me closing it, then they may not check. While brushing my teeth, before getting into bed, I noted the security cameras and location of each. It never dawned on me that these would be complete with sound devices.

I got into my canopied bed; with it’s fluffy ruffled comforter and scented satin sheets and hoped to sleep better then last night. I knew the following days would be demanding. The bath had relaxed me. I lie on my back and closed my eyes. I took some deep even breaths. As much as I wanted to blot it all out, the stress of the day and the fear of my future began to overwhelm me.

A lot of pent up emotion from the last 36 hours came to the surface. At first I choked up, then I sobbed. Finally the floodgates opened and I began to cry real tears. I turned on my side and pulled the covers over my head. I didn’t want to be seen. Little did I know my pitiful crying could be heard.

For some reason, the crying helped and after a time I was able to sleep. Soundly in fact. I awoke only once to use the toilet and haphazardly wondered if when back in bed I could get away with masturbating. The sexual tension when I’d been touching Nicole had resurfaced. Then I felt funny thinking about masturbation while wearing those sissy clothes. For the time being, I decided against it.

FIVE: Step Into the Parlor

The remainder of my first week as Nicole’s so called "step sissy" was no less demeaning, demanding or stressful as the first two days. Admittedly Tuesday was an easier or "light" housework day. Light housework also meant fussier clothing for me. I showed up at breakfast wearing a powder blue, knit ribbed skin-tight top, with white, stretch velvet, form fitting short shorts.

The top came right to my waist. My midriff was set off by a sash tied in a bow at my side. Peeking out from underneath the edges of my shorts were the very lacy ends of my decorative panty girdle. Pink anklet socks and white Mary Jane shoes with two-inch heels completed my ensemble.

Or so I thought. After breakfast I was given a frilly, full-length floral print apron to do my housework in. As Ginny tied the huge bow in the back, I saw my reflection in a full-length mirror. My painted nails, my delicately made up face, my curled hair with not one but two bows, one each side of my head. The ruffled apron made it look as if I were wearing a dress.

It was a real shocker to see my progression into femininity. I spent most of the morning ironing, dresses, blouses, skirts, and tops. After the ironing was done, I got to hand wash and hang out the lingerie, which included, panties, hose, nighties, and brassieres. After lunch it was time for elocution and gesture lessons.

Nicole bade me to set pertly on the living room settee, carefully smoothing the seat of my shorts and smoothing my apron as if I were wearing a dress. My hands were folded in my lap and my knees, thighs and heels were squeezed tightly together.

"Now, what we are going to teach you, Rhonda, are girlish phrases, mannerisms, speech patterns and tones. Let’s start with the tone. Anna has given me some throat spray that will help with that," my step-mother said as she had me open my mouth and liberally spayed the back of my throat with a atomizer.

Whatever it was, it had a citrus flavor, and did tend to make my voice higher and softer. Speech patterns were next. I was to learn how to phrase things as if I were asking a question, and in submissive way, even if it was a declarative sentence. I began to not like this and it got worse, when she had me begin to imitate, flighty little gestures which Ginny would show me.

Limping my wrists, wiggling my fingers, covering my mouth, pushing my hair away from my face, tossing my head, anything that would mimic an outrageously prissy girl. The girly stuff they had me say was awful! "Oh my that is just too, too! Goodness, Ginny that is just so precious! Oh my, that is just so peachy!" It was enough to make me sick. I was going to be slaving through weeks of this? Not if I could help it.

The only tolerable part of all this is that both Ginny and Nicole, would sometimes touch me when showing me a gesture, like smoothing my hair, or even hug me when showing how women might greet each other. That wasn’t all bad. I found that when they were happy about my performance they were much more friendly and occasionally affectionate.

I would soon find that lessons with Anna and Natasha would be much tougher. Nicole was thrilled that I may become a sort of daughter to her and I believe Ginny wanted me to take quite a bit of her workload from her. That night as I lie in bed I again considered masturbating but couldn’t bring myself to do it in those feminine clothes. The next day found me in even more swishy garb.

Ginny teased me and said that Nicole had given me permission to wear slacks. They were slacks all right. Bright red capri slacks with white fringe at the calves. I wore no stockings just a cute pair of anklets, which set off my black 3-inch heeled pumps. I still walked a bit tentatively in this size heel.

My blouse was also white, with a peter pan collar and a red kerchief was at my neck. The piece de resistence was a red bolero jacket with white trim at the vest and cuffs. My hair was pulled back in a ponytail and my lipstick and nail polish was bright red. I’d spent a good portion of Tuesday, after supper on my nails.

I’d been given a white heart shaped apron to wear so everyone could "see my pretty outfit." The real surprise came when I was told I could answer the door, for a surprise visitor I was getting. "Don’t forget to curtsey when you are introduced honey," Nicole reminded me. It was early afternoon when the bell rang and Nicole announced, "That will be Nanette Leopold, my hairdresser, actually our, hairdresser, my dear daughter," she said in a most teasing manner.

"Isn’t it wonderful Rhonda? Mother has invited our stylist to the house, so you can have your first hair appointment at home in private. We’ll see how you progress and maybe in a week or two you and I can go to the salon together. Possibly you may want to go by yourself," she added, knowing by now I was bursting at the seams in shame and anger.

It was all I could do to actually walk carefully and calmly to the door, open it, and welcome Nanette, with a proper curtsey, and a cheery, "Won’t you come in?" I finished it off with a sweeping gesture of my hand towards the living room. I had thought of making a break at the door but where on earth would I go?

"Ronnie sweetie, why don’t you get us all some iced tea, then sit down next to mother and we’ll discuss with Nanette what we want to do with your hair, today and in the near future?" Nicole requested. Nanette had brought a large valise with her. After I served everyone tea and had seated myself, she took from it a book of hairstyles. Female hairstyles, of course.

Mother and Nanette, (Ginny having excused herself for her afternoon duties) began to pour over the styles indicating to me we were looking for something shorter and in a different color. "We can experiment with some curl at a later date," Nanette explained to me as if I cared, "but for now the cut and color is most important. Let us know if you see a length, style and shade you’d enjoy, Rhonda," Nanette added.

I silently refused to be part of this selection process. Having my hair done? What an embarrassment! By a beautician from a snooty, rich bitch salon no less. I was so glad no one from my club could ever hear about this. Or could they? I wondered. Nanette certainly had both the air and appearance of haughtiness, which I found so undesirable in both Anna and Natasha.

She had dark, medium length hair done in a curly upswept do. Her skin-tight black leather shorts, white silk blouse and fashionable strap sandals. As she and Nicole went over the styles and colors in the book, they would complement me and try to get me interested. My subtle indifference turned to downright obvious contempt and finally Nanette commented assertively.

"Are we boring you Rhonda? I ask because I came all the way over here, during a busy week at your mother’s request, and you act as if you could not care less. We thought that possibly, having your hair done at home would save you some stress. That way your first trip to the beauty salon would be a pleasant relaxing experience. I guess we were wrong," she said, leaning towards me hand on her chin.

She stared intently at me, challenging me with her eyes, to say something out of line. I accepted her challenge. Nicole put a hand on my arm and got ready to speak to me but I boisterously cut her off. "This is just ridiculous and I for one am sick of it! I stood up, hands on each hip, not realizing my voice was cracking, from the use of the special throat spray, and my trying to speak so softly for the past few days.

"I have worn these fruity clothes, done housework, and acted like some sort of queer for 4 days! Now you want me to submissively set still for a professional beauty treatment. Then, you want me to frequent a salon and act as if this is all normal. I’m not going to stand for it any longer! I’m a guy, damn it! I want to be treated as one!" I shouted, shaking on my heels. I was scared! Why?

The reaction I got was not what I expected. Both Nicole and Nanette began to laugh. From behind me I heard more laughter, turned and saw Ginny shaking her head and guffawing into her hands. I stood there stunned and speechless before Nanette spoke out, "Nikki, Gin, can you believe Fag Bait here? Miss Puss thinks she’s a guy! Sorry you little pussy. A real guy would not willingly put on bright red lipstick, and wear a Pansy Boy outfit like you have on. Nor would a real guy curtsey so beautifully," she said as she pushed me flat on my back onto the divan.

She continued, "Look at you, you little fairy, you’re shaking like a leaf. You’re scared out of your pretty panties. Well sweetheart, if you want to try and resist, even so pathetically, you give us no choice. You’re not fooling with three chicks here honey. You’re defying the whole Sisterhood! Ladies, we’ll have to tie this one up to make her pretty!" She stated with much aplomb.

I wasn’t sure what the heck the Sisterhood was, but I was sure I’d know before this ordeal was over. Though I struggled, I took enough punches, slaps and whacks that I soon tired. My hands tied behind my back and my arms knotted at the elbows, I was bent over the back of a easy chair and my legs were then fastened at my ankles. I was also given my initial encounter with a ball gag.

It was stuffed in my mouth and fastened behind my head to stop the foul language I was using as I futilely struggled. Nicole suggested a paddling first. The other two concurred. Taken into Ginny’s room, of all places, I was pushed onto her bed. Tying a rope from my wrists to the head of the bed and from my ankles to the footboard I was fastened so that I could not turn to avoid any swats during the impending paddling.

Ginny propped my butt up with pillows and Nicole recommended she also slide a rubber sheet and a diaper underneath me. "In case she pees herself. We’re going to make this a paddling she won’t forget for a while. If the little bitch thinks she can defy the Cassandra Sisterhood, she has another thing coming," Nicole emphasized. Then they decided the implements they would use.

"Gin, you start with a hair brush. Get her good and warm. I’ll take over with the paddle and get this nice ass all pink and pretty. Nanette, you may implement your magic touch with a nice thick leather belt. However, right now, what Rhonda needs first, is to have her dirty filthy mouth washed out with soap, then an intro to the penis gag," she stated demonstratively.

Ginny left and returned quickly with all the necessary items. The ball gag was removed from my mouth and a soapy, wet washrag was shoved in. I spluttered and spit, wanting to puke. Pretty soon I was crying and whining. Nicole removed the rag and Ginny rinsed my mouth with a damp non-soapy paper towel. The awful penis gag was then shoved in my mouth and locked in place.

"Suck, suck Rhonda. Every girl has to suck a dick sooner or later. It will calm your nerves while we sting the daylights out of your rear end," Nicole threatened. The hairbrush spanking by Ginny started. Actually it was the lightest anyone hit me. I was only mildly sobbing through the gag and scrunching my thighs only a little.

Stepmother picked up the pace, though. Those stings from the paddle brought yelps and moans out of me even through the dildo they had stuffed in my mouth. By the time Nicole finished I had tears streaming down my face and was shaking and whimpering. My breath came in big, deep sobs.

Nicole suggested a little break for me to collect myself and for amusement told me to suck on the rubber penis as if I liked it. "Do it well enough Rhonda, and we may forego the lashing with the belt." At this point I’d do anything and began a furious sucking of that disgraceful item which had been shoved between my lips, even making moaning sounds of pleasure through my sobs and whimpers.

I should have known better, because it was all for naught. Through her laughter Nicole sneered and said, "Not bad Rhonda, but not good enough to cheat Nanette out of her fun. However, we will remove your little friend so you can expel your shrieks freely."

Once my gag was out, I turned my head and neck as far as I could and implored, "Please Nicole, I mean mother. Please, no more. I’ll behave and you can shave my head for all I care. Just no more of this pain! You’re right, I’m ready to wet myself."

Nicole smiled sweetly and even bent over to brush my bangs away from my face, and said, "Rhonda dear, that’s very sweet and so touching, however it would be so much more convincing a day or so from now. Right now dear, under the circumstances, it’s just not reassuring enough. So honey, if you think of it, in a few days, when you can sit down without any soreness, ask mother to make an appointment at the beauty parlor for you. Then I’ll be assured that you’re sincere. Okay? In the meantime, Nanette, why don’t you continue with our little indoctrination?"

Nicole was correct. In a few days when this awful experience was somewhat behind me I’d again consider rebellion, though on a lesser scale. Nanette began to strap me across not only my butt but also my thighs down close to the backs of my knees. I really began to shriek, and soon my shrieks turned to high-pitched shrill screeches and screams.

Nanette had Ginny completely unbind my feet and ankles and encouraged me to kick my legs wildly just as a scared little girl might. I did as she told me. I didn’t have much choice. Just when it seemed as if my pleas for mercy had fallen on deaf ears, Nanette stopped.

No sooner had she stopped, than Ginny untied me from the bed and with Nicole’s assistance, shoved me to a kneeling position on the floor. My hands still bound behind me, my head was pushed to the floor, and pulled back by my ponytail, I was told to kiss both of Nanette’s shoes and repeat the words, "My name is Rhonda, and I am a slave to the Cassandra Sisterhood. I will obey each and every one of the Sisters, assuredly and unequivocally. This I vow, under pain of absolute retribution."

It took me a while to get it correct. Then I was made to repeat the exercise with both Ginny and Nicole. I heaved and sobbed the entire time. Allowed to stand, I was mince marched by Nanette to the makeshift salon in my suite. She had me by my collar, my hands still lashed. Once in the salon, she stood me before a full-length mirror and brushed and straightened my clothes before pulling a waist length salon style cape over my head.

With the help of Nicole, who had followed us, she pulled a drawstring on the cape tight, securing my arms at my sides. Then Nicole untied my wrists. I still couldn’t use my arms or hands, but it was a bit more comfortable. Nanette then asked me, "Are you ready to behave and let me do your hair, and a few other things without squirming?" Still quaking in distress, I blubbered a "Yes ma’am," and submissively set in the chair in front of the shampoo sink that Nanette had pointed to.

Ginny brought Nanette’s bag into the room, and as Nanette and mother went over styles colors and cuts, I remained perfectly silent. Ginny and Nicole left, and Nanette walked to the shampoo sink, put her hand on my forehead and pushed me back further into the chair, my neck resting on the cutout in the sink. Unfastening my ponytail she began to run warm water on my hair with a spray nozzle.

"Set back, relax and enjoy yourself Rhonda, while you and I spend some quality time together. A girl and her stylist should be the best of friends. We got off on the wrong foot, but I’m willing to forgive and forget if you fulfill certain requirements," she said firmly and calmly as she worked a lather up, in my hair, with what she said was Apricot Shampoo.

Mother Nicole and Ginny had went to shower and nap, apparently, having gotten somewhat tired from the earlier activities. I was alone and virtually helpless with this very strange female and more then a little afraid at this point. She rinsed out the shampoo then followed it with a lemon conditioning rinse, before toweling my head dry and "escorting" me to thy styling chair in front of a wrap around, mirrored vanity.

Once I was seated in the chair Nanette used a foot pedal to raise the seat to just above waist high on her. My feet now well off the floor and my arms useless I had the sensation of being ready to fall. I let out a quick gasp. She noted this and strapped me into the chair. Then she moved an attached footrest so my heeled feet set upon it.

One of the "requirements" she insisted on was that I would move, speak and act in a feminine manner when around her. I agreed, the penalty for failure being quite severe. I would be on my nearly, very best behavior for the next couple of weeks or so, at least. I would have to be, to avert further punishment and to attempt to lull them into relaxing the security.

Nanette rubbed a lotion into my hair before she began to comb and section it with clips. Once satisfied, she started my cutting. Using her scissors like the true pro she was she snipped the ends, trimmed back the bangs, and began to carefully snip and comb also removing the clips.

After a time she seemed satisfied, setting down the tools of her trade, pausing and touching the ends of my hair. "Do you like it? It’s called a bobbed wedge. Here. I’ll hold this hand mirror behind you and you can see the whole do," she said proudly. It was definitely not the type of cut a guy would have. From the feathered bangs in front, to the way it tapered from the rear to forward.

At it’s shortest it was just at my ears. The longest point was to my chin. The ends curled under slightly. Behind my head it came to a little point above my collar. I mustered all my courage to say as convincingly as possible. "Yes ma’am. It’s very nice." I used my very best girl’s voice to say it.

She then went into her bag and removed three bottles. Putting on a pair of white rubber gloves, she snipped the tops off of two. She mixed those in a bowl ending up with a red sort of paste. Lowering the seat, she took me to the shampoo sink. Dampening my hair she applied the contents of the third bottle liberally, working it in to my scalp. Then she covered my head with plastic cap and seated me underneath a dryer.

She then left the room, returning a short while later to give me another conditioning rinse. Strapped back into the raised styling chair, I was shocked to see that I was now a really light blonde! Like Marilyn Monroe or Madonna! The look on my face must have been priceless, because Nanette said smiling, "Don’t worry Rhonda girl. You won’t be a blonde for long. Mother wants her precious baby to be a redhead."

Some consolation. A redhead! Some redhead at that. After painting on the color, putting me under the dryer and conditioning me again, Nanette rinsed and toweled me off before seating me in front of the mirror. As she applied another lotion to my hair she began combing it out. She used a blow drier and a brush to smooth it and with the styling lotion the color really came through.

A truly fiery, shimmering, coppery red! Not a guy’s color at all. She still wasn’t done. She plugged in a tray of hot rollers and began to set out an assortment of cosmetics. She hummed as she daintily set things out, smiling, holding her fingers primly apart. She surprised me by tilting the chair back on it’s swivel, locking it in place and fingering my quivering lips.

"Oh my, you are tense, aren’t you? We’ll see what we can do about that shortly. Let’s see. We need to give you another collagen treatment," she proclaimed gleefully. She loaded a syringe and smiled as she peered down at me. Gripping my chin gently with one hand she began to insert the needle in my lips, remove it and insert it in another location, as a dentist would with Novocain.

Each time I gasped she would "hush" me. "You are very fortunate, my dear girl. Your mother is paying for a complete series of collagen treatments. When they are complete you will have lovely "bee-stung" lips. Nicole wants her little girl to have a most sexy sensual mouth. Trust me, darling, we’ll see to it that when you sashay down the street, you’ll turn heads. Male and female, alike," she said proudly, much to my chagrin.

When she was done with the collagen, for the time being, she fingered some sort of salve into my lips. Making the chair upright again, she spayed my still, slightly damp hair with some water and began to take the smallest of the hot rollers and wind these into my hair. She set the hair atop my head only, brushing the sides down and swirling the ends beneath my chin.

Tilting the chair back again, she began to apply my makeup. She promised me that today, my makeup would be "copious and sumptuous." Eyebrow pencil to accentuate plucked brows, mascara, to give me a wide eyed appearance. Foundation to smooth my skin and blush to highlight my cheeks. A touch of shadow to make me appear wanton and vulnerable. Finally a full, deep, rich coat of hot pink to enhance my pout.

These are her descriptions, not mine. She went through an elaborate summary of her efforts as she made me up. When she faced me towards the mirror, though appalled, I had to admit her observations to be accurate. I was a trussed up, painted dolly boy and I was quite shaken by my new look. It was as if I were wearing a strange mask.

Additionally, I felt silly. I’d recalled looking through well-known men’s magazines and seeing pictures of actresses and models at home or in a studio, preparing for a date or photo shoots. They had looked the same. Wearing capes, hair in rollers, looking at themselves in the mirror, sometimes together talking to their girlfriends, mothers, sisters or stylists. That’s how I appeared and I was saddened by this.

My reverie was broken by Nanette’s next comment. "Now my sweet charge. Let’s see what we can do about your tenseness. We can’t have you all stressed out while you parade about prettily for mother and Virginia, now can we? Here darling, Nanette will fix things," she said as she seated herself beside me.

"Look at your reflection in the mirror and tell yourself everything is fine," she added as she lifted the lower part of my cape, and slid down my slacks and panty brief. Smiling she took a dollop of cocoa butter creme and massage it into her fingertips. Those same fingertips found their way to my exposed penis.

I gasped and asked her what she was doing. "You know very well what I’m doing. Don’t you masturbate at night, all curled up in your satin sheets wearing your pretties? She asked. What I answered that I did not she added, "Well you very well should. You’re missing quite a bit if you don’t and the relief from tension would make what you are going through much more bearable."

She continued to massage my penis encouraging me to relax, look at myself and enjoy things. "If I catch you with your eyes closed or averted from the mirror, I’ll stop," she warned.

I succumbed to her ministrations and obeyed. As my passion mounted my breaths became deep. My swollen penis ached for release. She was surprisingly skilled with her nicely lubricated fingers. I began to pant and moan.

End: Part 1

Will Ronnie find release with Nanette? Will mother be happy with the modeling? What about the strange school and the Sisterhood? Is there a salon visit in our sissy’s future? What will daddy’s reaction be to a new daughter? Find out in Part 2 of Subjugated Step Sissy. Soon.