The Painters Daughters

by Mule & Farnorth

1. Chapter

"If you have any problems, Tom, you know how to get hold of me," my wife said as she kissed me good-bye in the airport departure lounge.

"Just get on the airplane, Margo," I chided, I'm a big boy. I'll manage."

I waved to her as she bustled down the ramp. It was Saturday, and she was off to help her sister, Pat, with her newborn, and would be gone for up to two weeks.

There were three good things about her departure. First, I planned to lock myself up in my den and work on that program I wanted to get done. Second, the painter we contracted, the husband of my wife's best friend at work, would paint the rest of the house while both of us were out of the way. Third, I could get my special magazine collection organized.

My wife and I have always had a healthy sex life, and I was horny before I watched her plane pull out. I stopped by the newsstand on my way out and bought a copy of Penthouse. Margo knows I read this kind of magazine, but she chooses not to acknowledge it. She doesn't want to see them, and she doesn't want to talk about them. So, like many men, I have my stash hidden, and I have to be discrete about when I read them.

Now I'd have two whole weeks to read at my leisure. I thumbed through the magazine in the parking lot. I noticed that this particular month's issue had a couple of letters about two of my favorite topics: cross-dressing and female domination.

Even though I'd never thought of trying it personally, the thought of men dressing in women's clothes was something that held a hint of mystery for me. I didn't play with Margo's clothes because I was afraid she'd catch me. Her shoes were something else. They were sort of scattered around the closet floor. It wasn't very probable that she'd notice if they were moved. Besides, it was less likely that I'd have an "accident" in one of her shoes.

There was nothing mysterious about female domination. I was addicted. I couldn't pass up a magazine that had stories about the subject in it. I spilled gallons of semen into the toilet while reading them. If I only had the courage to talk to Margo about it!

That was the hard part. I know Margo liked me for my self-confidence and manly actions and appearance. I didn't know what she'd think if I told her I wanted to be dominated. "Shit," I said to myself defensively, "Half those letters are made up, and the other half are exaggerated way out of proportion. Nothing like that ever happens to real people."

I thumbed further through the magazine. There were some great pictures in there! I could spend hours on the centerfold alone! My cock rose to the occasion. How I'd like to put it in something like what was shown in the picture. I'd never cheat on Margo, but a man could have his fantasies, right? I loved her, but Margo just didn't excite me like these models did.

I knew that it would be weeks before I could have sex with Margo again! Oh well, there's always "Rosy Palm and her five sisters," I thought. At least Margo didn't pack all her shoes. As far as she knew, I encouraged her to buy those pumps with the high heels because they looked good on her. She didn't know that my appreciation of her shoes went much deeper than that.

I had a hard-on from the time I got in the car until I got off my bed an hour and a half later.

-=o=-

The painter arrived as scheduled on Monday and started setting up the scaffolding, drop cloths, and other paraphernalia for the job. I invited him to make use of sodas and iced tea I had in the refrigerator, and went off to the solitude of my den.

It was mid-afternoon when the painter came into my den and explained to me, "I'm sorry Mr. Greer, I'm just not feeling well. I don't want to do it, but I have to knock off for the day. I've got one hell of a headache, and I think I'm going to lose my lunch."

Not on my rug he wasn't! So I sent him home. Oh well, so much for getting the painting done on time.

-=o=-

I was awakened by the doorbell at precisely 8 a.m. the following day. I put on my robe, rubbed my eyes and made my way to the front door. I opened it to see a girl standing there. She appeared to be about 18 years old. Her face had a wholesome look to it with green eyes and a sprinkling of girlish freckles across her cheeks. She had her red hair tucked under a baseball cap, and was dressed in an pull-over sleeveless blouse, pink shorts and tennis shoes. The pull-over revealed an inviting figure, and the pink shorts outlined a generous and, to my mind, appealing set of hips and buttocks.

I looked at her with a blank expression.

She finally broke the silence. "Hi, I'm Linda, Bob's daughter."

"Who the fuck is Bob?" my sleepy mind was asking me.

She obviously read my mind. "Bob -- the painter -- the man who went home sick yesterday? He's got a really bad case of the flu."

"Oh, sure!" I said, suddenly comprehending. "What can I do for you?"

"It's the other way around. It's what I can do for you that's important. I'm here to finish the job my father started."

"You?" I asked, "You're just a girl!"

That was the wrong thing to say, and I knew it as soon as the last breath left my mouth. She flushed with anger. "Don't 'girl' me," she said firmly, "I've been helping my dad in the business since I was thirteen. I know what I'm doing, and I assure you, I can handle a paint brush. This contract is important to us, we need the money, and I'm going to finish this job!"

"But I hired your father," I complained.

"Wrong!" she shot back, "You hired the corporation. Read the fine print. Both my father and I are employees of the corporation. Now am I going to stand out here all morning, or are you going to let me in to work?"

She didn't wait for an answer and just pushed past me. She was pushy all right, but there was something about her assertiveness that attracted me.

She took a quick, self-conducted tour of the house assessing what needed to be done, and then went out to her car and got a couple more items. She went into the spare bathroom, and came out wearing an oversized shirt, and work boots. Both were paint-speckled, but she still wore those pink shorts.

I was in no mood to argue with her. So, I let her work. I found it difficult, however, to concentrate on my breakfast. Seeing her stretching and swaying on the scaffold was getting me aroused. There was a certain grace to her motions that was seductive. I looked eagerly for the glances she gave me of her bottom when her shirt pulled away as she stretched or bent over. More than once, she caught me staring at her. I was fascinated with that gorgeous tush of hers.

Finally, she turned to me and said, "What!"

I was snapped rudely from my dream and was embarrassed. "Nothing," I said.

"It better be nothing," she responded. I went back to my den to get her out of my sight, and out of my mind. Well, half of it worked anyway. She was out of my sight.

At noon, I went out to the kitchen to get lunch. I saw her eating a sandwich out on my covered patio. She smiled and waved at me, but we didn't exchange words. At 5 P.M. I heard her voice come down the hall. "I'm leaving for the day, Mr. Greer." I didn't even hear her car pull away.

I took out the trash after dinner. Coming back into the house through the laundry room, I noticed the light on in the spare bathroom. I went in to turn it off, and saw that Linda had left her clothes in the bathroom. She apparently hadn't changed out of her work clothes when she'd left.

The pullover was hanging on the hook on the back of the door, along with a bra, and a pair of panties. Her sneakers were sitting on the floor under the sink. The bra was a cotton athletic type, and the panties were plain white cotton. My wife had much fancier stuff in her dresser drawers. These items of Linda's apparel didn't have much appeal to me.

The sneakers, however, were strangely attractive. My wife had a pair of Reeboks she wore to aerobics class, but except for the pink trim, they looked exactly like mine. Linda's Keds, on the other hand were uniquely feminine. Men don't wear that kind of sneaker. For some strange reason they drew me towards them. I picked them up, held them to my chest, and fondled them.

The picture of Linda at the front door came to mind. I was recalling her small, but well-formed breasts, and those nicely framed buns in her cute pink shorts. My thoughts continued down her body, and came to rest on these very sneakers. I thought of her petite feet and how they occupied the shoes. Almost without thinking, I slowly brought one of the sneakers to my face and sniffed gently at the opening.

There was a sweaty, yet sweet smell. I put my face and mouth into the opening, and inhaled deeply. The odor was pungent and sharp, yet something in my mind said that "feminine" was the proper adjective for the scent assaulting my senses.

I hadn't had sex since before my wife left. That was half a week earlier. It was time, and my body knew it. My cock sprang to attention. I put the sneakers on the vanity, dropped my pants, pulled up the toilet seat, knelt in front of it, picked up one of the sneakers, held it to my face and started to masturbate. I was lost in the sensation that was the smell of her feet. When I came, I shot my load over the seat and splashed copious amounts of semen all over the bowl.

I knelt there in a warm post-ejaculate glow. I'd never done this particular scene before. I had masturbated while kissing my wife's high-heeled, patent-leather pumps, but I never considered that a lowly sneaker could have sex appeal. I never considered that the smell of a woman's foot could be such a turn-on. What made it even better for me was that this shoe was worn on the foot of a strange girl. Somehow that added a little naughtiness to it.

I put the sneakers back under the sink and cleaned up my mess.

2. Chapter

I was awakened again at 8 a.m. by Linda at the door. I let her in without a word and made my way towards the kitchen to make some coffee.

I was half relieved as I saw her set up her stuff outside. The weather had turned nice today, and she apparently decided to take advantage of it to paint the outside trim. At least she wouldn't be waving her ass in front of me as I ate breakfast, although I did get several tantalizing views as she gathered her materials.

I went back to the den to work. Occasionally, I heard her moving the ladder outside, or doing some other work. After a while it became routine -- just another one of the commonplace household noises you hear but never pay attention to.

I tried to concentrate on my work, but I couldn't. My thoughts kept going back to the night before. My cock was already hard, having been invigorated by watching her seductive work-dance on my patio. Now that the image of my masturbational delight of 12 hours earlier was in my head, I couldn't control myself. I held off as long as I could, but by mid-morning, I made my way towards the laundry room and the spare bath.

Everything was exactly the way I left it. I picked up her sneakers and put them on the vanity. I kept my eyes on them as I stripped. Since I was wearing only a robe, underwear and slippers, I was naked in less than ten seconds. I picked up one of the sneakers, dropped slowly to my knees and lifted it to my face.

I breathed in deeply allowing the molecules of her body mingle with mine. The effect was intoxicating and I was lost in a world of imagination. I closed my eyes and I could see Linda, I let my mind wander, and I could hear Linda. It was several seconds before I realized that I wasn't imagining that I was hearing her. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" the very real Linda was yelling at me through the window.

I almost dropped the sneaker into the toilet. I turned to see Linda standing on the ladder outside the window, bristling with anger. She disappeared briefly and appeared at the door. "WHAT IS THIS?"

I didn't know what to say, so Linda filled in the details for me. "I saw you through the window. What were you doing? Were you going to play with yourself? And what were you doing with my sneakers?"

She really didn't wait for an answer. "You WERE going to play with yourself! What are you, a little boy? You're just like my thirteen-year-old cousin Billy. He jerks off all the time. He doesn't know that I know, but I do. I thought about telling my aunt about it, but I think I'll hold off and tell my cousin Amy when she comes back from camp next month. She's just about old enough to be able to handle her older brother."

"Look at this," she said, holding up the other sneaker and waiving it at me. "The opening is forced open. The laces are stretched out. You've been sniffing these things haven't you? What are you, some sort of pervert?"

I was studying my toes as I felt the heat of embarrassment rising in my face. I hadn't had this kind of a scolding since my mom caught me stealing her panties. Even though I had a thing about women's clothes, I never acted on it except for playing a little with Margo's shoes, and now, Linda's sneakers.

The only reason I was after my mother's panties was because of a challenge made by some of my friends when we were 16. We were supposed to get our girlfriends' panties. I couldn't get my girlfriend to cooperate that weekend, so I was improvising. Mom misunderstood my actions.

Linda stood in front of me hands on hips, leaning forward slightly, and demanded, "ANSWER ME. LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU."

I looked up but couldn't say anything. It wasn't only that I couldn't think of what to say, I was physically incapable of talking as my throat tightened with my humility.

She grabbed her sneakers and the rest of her clothes, and walked out of the room leaving me standing there naked.

-=o=-

The shock wore off slowly, I put on my underwear and robe, and I made my way back to the living room where I could see her packing up her stuff.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing, you idiot? I'm quitting. I'm not spending a minute more in a house with a sex maniac like you. I can't trust you."

"I'm harmless, really. I'm sorry, don't leave." I didn't really need the house painted this badly. I could always hire another painter. I had the perfect excuse to tell my wife. The first painter did leave the job.

What concerned me was what Linda might tell her father, and what he might tell his wife, and what she might tell my wife. Thanks to my adrenaline rush, I was totally alert by now, and my mind was functional enough to reason this out.

Suddenly I was extremely interested in what Linda thought of me. For some reason, I wanted to impress her, and I knew I was getting off to a bad start. If I could get her to understand me, she might take sympathy on me and keep quiet about this.

I tried to calm her, "I'll stay out of your way. I won't do anything."

"Oh yeah. What kind of guarantee do I get? I saw the way you were looking at my ass yesterday." (She turned and thrust her tush at me for emphasis and my prick responded). She continued, "What can you do that will assure me you won't harm me?"

"I'll do anything," I responded.

"Anything?" she asked, green eyes glinting.

"Just give me another chance."

"OK," she said, "Let's see how serious you really are. Come with me."

I followed her back to the bathroom.

"I want you to show me what you were doing when I caught you."

"WHAT?"

"You heard me," she said, "Take off your clothes and do it!"

The rational part of my mind was telling me, "Don't do it." However, being a man, my hard-on had its own advice. Testosterone spoke louder than logic one more time.

I undid my robe, revealing the boxer shorts I'd slept in. Linda smiled, and wiggled her index finger up and down a couple of times to indicate that I should drop them.

Having to undress for her was more embarrassing than being caught naked. Blushing profusely, I slid my boxers down. My erect member sprang out like a soldier standing at attention awaiting her inspection.

"Not bad," she giggled. "Now step up and do it," she said, handing me a sneaker.

I knelt down in front of the toilet. She enjoyed the picture of me submissively on my knees before her.

I put the heel under my chin, and slipped the tongue over my nose. My penis twitched.

She laughed. "I knew you were up to something the moment I saw the way you were looking at me. I suspected you were oversexed, and in need of some disciplining. What surprised me was that you grabbed my sneakers. Nobody has ever done that before. I figured you for a pantie man. Well, maybe we'll explore that later. I'm surprised, but delighted."

She gave me the coaching I wanted. "Breathe deep, my sneaker sniffer. Smell me. These are my 'utility sneaks.' I wear them for just about everything except work. I've worn them every day to school for the last two months, and now that summer is here, I've worn them to the store, the beach, ... everywhere. I have them on my feet from the time I get up in the morning until I take my feet off the floor to go to bed at night."

"Think about that as you sniff the home where my feet live. I really should wear socks when I wear these things, but they feel so much better without them. I imagine they smell better because of it, too. Don't you think so?"

I muttered out a, "Yes, Linda," through the canvas fabric of the shoe.

"Oh, you can call me Ms. Worthington. OK?"

"Yes, Ms. Worthington."

"Good," she said pointing at my erect member, "Now that you have that penis of yours in the condition it's supposed to be in, I want you to do something with it. I want you to put on a good show for me."

I reached down with my free hand and grabbed my cock and started stroking it. Although I had my eyes closed, I could feel her eyes staring at me. My heart was pounding and I never found my penis so hard. The increased blood pressure made it even more sensitive than normal. I pulled on my penis about two dozen times before I exploded.

It was a fantastic orgasm. I could feel the strong contractions in my groin. Linda sucked in some air. I kept pumping and pumping, and found it difficult to kneel erect. I was getting dizzy from the smell of her feet, and the sudden release of sexual tension. It was almost like being on a drug, and I was getting addicted. I thought then that regular intercourse or the other games my wife and I played would never be as good as this.

Linda applauded as the last feeble squirts of my ejaculation dribbled out. "Very good," she complimented, as I lowered the sneaker from my face, "I think you have promise. Are you willing to behave yourself and do as I say?"

I was in no condition to object so I nodded my consent.

"Good! Clean up in here and meet me in the living room."

I looked at my robe. She said, "Oh no, you won't be needing that. We aren't done yet."

I looked at the toilet as she left. What a mess! I had come everywhere. It took quite a while to clean it up.

-=o=-

Linda was setting up some scaffolding when I got to the living room.

"Give me a hand with this, will you?" she asked. I helped her set up a low scaffold in the middle of the room. She arranged a single board over it about 18 inches from the floor.

"Sit down," she commanded. I sat on the board. "Swing your leg over, and straddle it."

I did.

"Now, lay down."

I had an idea what was in store, but I tried to object nonetheless as she grabbed my arms under the board and started to tie them together. "Hey what are you ..."

"Shut up" she quickly cut me off. "Look, I still can't trust you, so I'm putting you where I can keep an eye on you."

After securing me to the board, she took one of the sneakers, pulled out the laces, and restrung them through the top eyelets. She placed the heel of her sneaker over my nose and tucked the tongue under my chin. She took the laces and tied them together behind my head. I wore her sneaker like this for the next several hours. I had already learned to associate the tennis shoe with sexual activity. Its constant, literally "in-my-face" reminder had me in a perpetual hard-on.

I tried to relax and watch her paint. Every now and then she'd turn towards me and give me a girlish smile. Except for a cock standing up and begging like a puppy, I was getting quite comfortable with our arrangement.

At about 2 P.M. she took a break. She brought out a lunch box and a thermos. She set them at my head and poured herself a cup of coffee. Then she unwrapped a muffin.

Next she stood beside the board and pulled off her shorts and panties, leaving herself clad only in an oversized shirt and work boots. It was probably the least feminine attire I've ever seen, but for some reason, it had me fully aroused.

She undid my sneaker mask, swung her leg over my head, and lowered her body onto my face. "You know what to do," she told me, "Tongue!" As she sat there humming to a song on the radio, contentedly nibbling on her muffin and sipping her coffee, I was busy at work on her clitoris.

I swirled my tongue around her sweet nubbin exciting it into a mini-erection. I sucked it in gently and tried to ignore the streams of fluid dripping over my face. I barely touched it against my teeth, grazing it tenderly. She shuddered and my face was awash with her feminine juices. We repeated this scenario several times over the next ten or fifteen minutes.

Before leaving me to get back to work, she propped her sneakers up against my erect penis. The afternoon wore on, and I was getting uncomfortable. For one thing, my face was wet, and my eyelashes were getting sticky from her drying come. The other thing that was a problem was that my bladder hadn't been emptied since I got up. Sex, even masturbation, causes me to want to urinate. I was about four hours overdue!

I was afraid to mention this to Linda, but the pain was too much to ignore. "Ms. Worthington, I need to go to the bathroom. Will you please untie me." Ouch! It sounded so formal and stilted, but how else does one address an 18-year-old girl who has you tied up and at her mercy?

"Hey, that's not my problem." She replied, "If you got to go, you got to go." I knew I was in trouble when I saw her face brighten. She slid the board at my head out of the support and lowered it to the floor. I was now laying on an inclined plane with my head down. She immobilized my head with an ordinary belt that went around my head and buckled behind the board. Strapped in this position, I couldn't move my head from side to side or up and down. About all I could do is shift my eyes.

She grabbed an unused paint stirrer, laid it across my stomach, and propped it up under the head of my penis holding it in place with some masking tape. I looked down (actually up) at my penis. It sat there like an artillery piece at the ready.

My quasi-inverted position only made my bladder condition worse. I couldn't hold it any longer. Once I started pissing, I started pissing hard, and I couldn't stop for at least a full minute.

Linda figured out the geometry perfectly. My stream of urine hit my face right on the chin and lips. It flowed up my face into my nose so I actually swallowed some of it that way as well as smelled it. It washed up into my eyes burning them, and dribbled into my hair and even my ears. For the sake of my rug, I was glad there was a drop cloth under me.

Linda had to dismount from the other scaffold and sit down, she was laughing so hard. I felt about an inch and a half tall. Here was this girl -- cute -- but still a girl, and she arranged to have me piss all over myself. There was absolutely no sympathy for my plight in her. In fact, she was enjoying the whole humiliating event.

I spent the rest of the afternoon on my back with head tilted down. Just before 5 p.m. Linda brought me back to the horizontal position and untied me. I was dirty, I smelled of dried piss, I was stiff, and sore.

She said to me as she collected her things, "Same time tomorrow?"

My mouth answered for my penis before my brain could interrupt. "You bet!" I said.

3. Chapter

For a change I was up and ready (in more ways than one) at 8 a.m. awaiting Linda's arrival. I was surprised when I answered the door to see two girls standing there.

"Hi," Linda said, "this is my kid sister, Kim."

I looked at the almost identical images in front of me and mouthed, "kid?" Both girls giggled at that. Linda explained, "Yes, she's all of about 20 minutes younger. This is my twin. She's the girl of the family. I've always been sort of the tomboy. Not that I don't have my urges." I had no doubt as to Linda's urges.

I studied the two girls, comparing their common facial features and pert, young bodies. I noticed their differences as well. Linda, in her baseball cap and her oversized man's shirt with (I hoped) her pink shorts underneath, was wearing a different pair of those delightful sneakers. After the last two days that style of sneaker took on a new meaning. They said, "female -- obey me!" Linda popped a stick of gum in her mouth and eyed me with an impudent grin. She seemed so cool and confident. I could not meet her penetrating gaze, and averted my eyes.

Obviously, Kim was not dressed for painting, but she was carrying a small suitcase. Perhaps her work clothes were in there. Her soft red shoulder-length hair framed her perfectly made-up face. She had such a sweet, innocent smile that I... well, I just melted. A pretty powder blue lace bra was clearly visible through her long-sleeved blouse. From the Victorian collar on down, the translucent white chiffon material left little to my imagination. Yet, in a way, she seemed so pure and childlike. Until I studied those gorgeous hips. Nothing childlike about her there... And the pleated blue skirt that came to her mid-thigh said "schoolgirl" but her long legs were encased in sheer nylon and that said something else.

I guessed the heels of her blue sandals to be about 3" high. The pink nail polish showing through her stockinged feet matched the color of her perfectly manicured long fingernails. As my mind was contemplating how to get into her pants, my penis betrayed me. She laughed softly as she noticed the growing bulge in my shorts.

Linda broke my reverie. "I brought Kim along today because I have an idea. If all three of us work at it, we can get the job finished sooner. That will give us more time to ourselves to play."

It made sense to me. "But what about Kim. Does she ..." "Of course she does," Linda added, knowing exactly what I was talking about. "Kim and I go way back with boys. Usually, she hooks them, and I fry them. This time it's my turn to make the introductions. Right Kimmie?"

"Uh-huh," Kim replied. "You know, Mr. Greer," she said softly, "even as a little girl I had a way with boys. I could get them to talk to us and want to play with us. Once we'd make friends, Linda would take over. She showed me what to do with them. She just had this knack for getting them to drop their pants for us." Her eyes were fixed on my developing hard-on. "We've been sharing boyfriends for the last ten years."

"Now," Linda interrupted, "are we ready to go to work?"

I nodded my assent.

"Listen up, Tommy!" Linda commanded, "Let me tell you how it's going to be. I'm the foreman on this job. I'll tell you exactly what to do. That even includes when to take a shit."

I looked at her, but she overrode my objection before I raised it, "That's right, my penis-pumping puppy. You are the new apprentice on this job, and everything you do has to be supervised. That includes bathroom breaks. You have to ask permission from Kimmie or myself to be excused from work. One of us will have to take you."

I decided I'd put her to the test, "May I go to the bathroom, please?"

"Yes, you may. Since we haven't started work yet, we'll both take you." The three of us walked to the bathroom where I unzipped my pants, took out my penis and relieved myself of my morning's coffee. Both girls seemed content just to watch, but the requirement to ask permission and to be supervised made me feel like a little boy again.

I zipped up and flushed the toilet.

"Kimmie, here's where he was masturbating yesterday with his nose buried in my sneaker!"

Kim was all eyes. "How did you get him to do it?" she asked. "I didn't. When are you going to learn, Kimmie. Boys and men don't have a choice when it comes to sex. They have to have it or go mad. There's some sort of direct connection between their penises and their brains. If we control the sex we control them. Tommy boy likes the smell of girls' feet, so I indulge him. He'll do anything for me."

Kim looked thoughtful. But I couldn't tell what she was thinking, whether she felt excitement, contempt, or what. Linda turned to me. "OK. You have at least some experience painting, right?" she asked.

"Well, not exactly," I replied. "That's why I hired a professional. But if you'll give me directions, I'm sure..." "Oh, shit," she said. "Look, I don't have time for this. It's going to rain tomorrow. I want to try to get the outside trim finished today. You train him, Kimmie. I'm going to get to work." And with that, she turned and left us. Kim stood there with an amused look. She licked her lips and smiled at me.

-=o=-

"Well, Mr. Greer," Kim said. She moved next to me and lightly, teasingly ran her long pink fingernails down my arm. She seemed like such a demure, sweet young thing. But my cock didn't think so; it was growing again. And in a very soft voice she said, "I see you have my sister's panties and bra hanging there. Panties and bras are very feminine, aren't they?"

"Well," I croaked. I could not take my eyes off her breasts, displayed in her own lacy bra beneath the transparency of the chiffon blouse. They looked so enticing. I felt myself so strangely submissive. She saw where I was staring. I don't know what made me blurt out, "That one's not as feminine as the nylon and lace bra you're wearing." I felt so embarrassed.

She smiled at me. Her hand was still on my arm. "Why, Mr. Greer," she said sweetly, "I think you have excellent taste!" She bent over to open her small suitcase. I couldn't see, or didn't want to see, what she had in there. My eyes were fixed on the curve of her hips, her long legs in those sheer stockings. I stared, thinking... She held a bra and a pair of panties in her hand. She unfolded the bra and said, "Vanity Fair. Soft nylon and lace, the same style as I'm wearing.

Doesn't it look pretty? Pink is such a feminine color, don't you think?" I had to agree. I think my heart skipped a beat. Where was this leading?

"And panties are so pretty too," she whispered as she held them up to my face, "A proper match for the bra, Vanity Fair also, size 7. Such soft nylon. And look, these briefs have such darling lace at the front of the leg openings. Intimate feminine wear is so attractive, don't you think?"

"Oh, yes." Part of me was still plotting to get her out of her panties, and if I had to play her game, so be it. Another part of me found this very exciting. "Breathtaking," I said. "Well, then. We need to get started with your training, Mr. Greer." She continued to speak, very slowly and deliberately, "I want you to take off all your clothes so I can get a better look at you."

"Call me Tom, please."

I hesitated. She placed her hand on the swelling in my crotch and began to play with me.

"You're not going to be difficult, are you Tommy? We need to get started with your training and I'm so hoping you will be a good boy for Kimmie." I was lost in her femininity. I took off my shirt and unbuckled my belt. As my shorts fell to the floor my freed cock popped to attention. It was so embarrassing. But Kim seemed so understanding, as her hands ran appreciatively over my body. Then she ran her fingernails back and forth lightly over my penis. It grew harder in response.

"Tommy, I want you properly dressed for your painting lesson. Put on your pretty panties."

I couldn't refuse her. As I slid the pink nylon briefs up my legs and over my raging hard-on she stood there with her arms crossed and smiled knowingly at me. Then she said, "Hold out your arms, darling." She slipped the silky bra straps over my shoulders, put her arms around me and hooked the delicate garment in place. Her perfume assaulted my senses, and she leaned against me pressing her soft breasts to my chest. My penis, in its nylon prison, was cuddled in the folds of her skirt. Yes, definitely, this was exciting me.

"Such a good boy," she cooed. "You know, your briefs are made of Diaphanique nylon. They're quite easy to see through. And you really do look so pretty and feminine in your panties." She took a small step to the side to look at my hardness as she began to stroke the tent in my new panties.

"Ummm..." I was speechless. And rock hard.

"Cat got your tongue, Tommy? That reminds me of my cousin, Billy. And my aunt..."

She thought for a moment as she continued to pet me. "That's it! I'm going to be your Auntie Kimmie and you will do every single thing I tell you. That will be so much fun, won't it sweetness? Let's go to the bedroom where we'll be more comfortable."

Kim picked up her suitcase and beckoned with her finger for me to follow her. She led me down the hall. As I followed her I felt a little silly dressed as I was, and I was hoping Linda didn't walk back in the house at that point. But mostly what occupied my attention was the curve of Kim's hips and the wiggle of her body as she walked in front of me. I wondered if that was the way she walked all the time or if she was just doing it to tease me.

4. Chapter

Kim walked into my bedroom, put down her case and sat down in my armchair. She stared at the pulsing penis that strained against the silky fabric and she began to unbutton her blouse. There was no question as to who was in command. I stood before her staring at the curve of her firm thighs as she crossed her legs. And I began to play with myself. "TAKE YOUR HANDS AWAY!" she snapped.

"But..."

"NOW!"

I was stunned and confused. I hesitated, then somehow managed to move my hands to my sides. "A boy jerking off in front of his own Auntie. Really, you should be ashamed of yourself! And just look at the pre-come stain on your pretty panties." As I looked down she quickly she got up, pulled a leather strap out of her suitcase, firmly pulled my wrists behind me and fastened them securely. I felt so helpless. I could see her triumphant smile.

Partly out of fear, and partly out of desire, I slipped right into character. "But please, Auntie, I couldn't help myself! It just happened! I tried to fight it as long as I could, but it wasn't any use!"

She turned me to face her, smiled and spoke gently to me. "What you're trying to say is that you couldn't control yourself. That's what you're trying to say, isn't it?"

Was she trying to increase my humiliation by just pretending to be caring and nurturing? "Yes, Auntie." Tears of agony began to run down my cheeks. My cock desperately needed relief and now I didn't know how or if she would take care of my need. She finished unbuttoning her blouse, which she carefully folded and placed on a table next to the chair. In frustration my hardness began to wilt.

She sat me down in my chair and leaned over me, stroking my pretty pink panties just a little. With her other hand she pulled my head closer to rest in her soft, tender breasts in their sleek lacy bra cups.

"My poor little boy, I know why you were so bad. It's because you haven't had Auntie here to guide you, to control you, to take you in her arms and make you behave. Isn't that right?"

I twisted in panic as the tears spilled down my cheeks and splashed on her breasts. My cock was quivering with life once more. Auntie's words were sweet and soothing but they couldn't erase my mounting fear and humiliation. Yes, I was definitely getting hard again! There was no denying the thickness and throbbing heat in my stiffening cock. Kim said, "Auntie is going to control you and guide you and protect you. That's what you really want, isn't it, darling? Tell the truth to Auntie, now."

I just couldn't speak, My voice was lost in fear and embarrassment at my state of arousal. The only noise I could make was a groan of humiliation."That's all right, darling. Your penis is telling me just what I needed to find out." She thought for a moment. "I know," she brightened. "You're probably just embarrassed because of your love of pretty feminine underthings and because of your overpowering need to serve a woman and because Auntie knows all about your little secret. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, Auntie."

"Well, then. Obviously, what you need is a long course in feminine appreciation. And, when you understand that, in the natural order of things the only legitimate purpose in life for any male is to serve the female, and when you become accustomed to wearing intimate feminine apparel all the time, then you'll become comfortable with it. You won't have all this frustration. Doesn't that sound just wonderful?" She continued to pet my penis lightly.

I still had a powerful urge to make love with her, but also I was aroused because she had taken complete control of me. Also, she had really turned me on by putting me her feminine frills. "Oh, yes, Auntie. Thank you Auntie.""That's a good little boy. I'm going to untie your hands now. But you will obey my instructions without question. And you will never play with your penis unless I give you specific permission. Auntie will decide. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Auntie. You are so good to me Auntie," I said with an honesty that surprised even me.

"Of course I am, darling. Another thing. I think it will help in your feminine appreciation lessons if we give you a new name. I think Tami has a nice sound to it. And I don't know that you should call me Auntie anymore. I think Mistress would be more appropriate, Mistress Kimberly if you like."

"Yes, Auntie, I mean Mistress. But... but what about my painting lessons?" She finished freeing my wrists.

"Yes, I promised Linda I would instruct you how to paint properly. But before we get to that we need to continue today's feminine appreciation workshop. You may take off my skirt."

I undid the buttons at the back of her tiny waist and carefully slid her skirt down her long stockinged legs to her ankles. She stepped out and sat back down in my armchair. She was breathtaking.

A vision of loveliness. Those pretty breasts framed in her delicate bra, matching light blue briefs (they too were the same style as my pink ones) and garter belt, taught sheer nylons and those arousing 3" heels.

"Kneel down and take off my sandals, Tami."

I dropped to my knees obediently as I thrilled to the sound of my new name. "Yes, Mistress. Mistress, you are so beautiful!"

"Of course, I am darling. I am female," she said in the most level, matter-of-fact tone.

"Mm... may I please lick your pretty pussy, Mistress?" She gave a little cry of delight. "Of course, darling. Did you know that pussy worship and the training of your tongue may be the most important part of what I'm going to teach you? And certainly you will be spending a lot of time at it. But from now on, first you will ask permission to kiss Mistress' pretty panties, then you will ask for permission to remove them and then you must fold them neatly. You must always treat Mistress' delicate things with great care."

"Yes. Mistress." It was an uncontrollable urge as powerful as creation itself that drew me to her. Before, I would have kissed her pussy as a way to get her excited so she'd make love to me. Now I wanted to kiss her pussy simply because I wanted to! Slowly I kissed the warm nylon where it disappeared between her soft thighs and then, as she raised her hips slightly, I removed the filmy panties from Kim's beautiful body, carefully folded them and placed them on the carpet. On impulse I gave each of her feet a light massage. Then, through her stockings I kissed and suckled on each of her toes.

"Very nice, Tami. You seem to have quite a talented mouth for a beginner.

Let's see where else you can use it."

I took her cue and began to kiss and lick my way up her legs, worshiping the feel of the smooth nylon and her warm flesh beneath my tongue. As I neared the tops of her stockings she spread her legs wider to reveal herself. I moved quickly to her inviting pussy, kissing, lapping and sucking eagerly, and savoring her juices. Wonder and joy, agony and frustration; I was feeling everything at once.

My raging cock swelled and ached with desire. And yet somehow I knew, instinctively, that this was the way it was meant to be, that I belonged on my knees in front of my beautiful Mistress, dressed in my pretty pink panties and bra, with my tongue buried in Mistress' wonderful pussy.

As she writhed and moaned, Mistress' warm thighs tightly clenched my ears. I was enveloped in femininity. Mistress grabbed my hair and pulled my head forward, my tongue thrust deeper into her. "Don't stop, sweetness, don't stop." Was she yelling or was she gasping? I couldn't tell; all I knew was that as I lunged forward into her pussy I was spinning into a whirlpool of pleasure. My head spun and my cock throbbed and ached as I pictured myself in my feminine underthings,

with my head buried between her luscious legs. Shaking uncontrollably and screaming -- yes, now I heard it -- she came again and again, almost crushing me with her soft but insistent thighs.

And then she pushed me back. I lay on the floor, confused and dazed. My pulsing cock threatened to burst from my silky panties. I just had to relieve myself. But no... I didn't dare. She was looking at me. Perhaps she was just waiting for the chance to punish me.

I felt in anguish. Was I having a nightmare? She was so lovely, so beautiful. I knew it was my place to serve her always. If only she would allow me relief. Somehow I doubted she would. I was confused and bewildered. She knew what was best for me. That is why she had me on her training program. Wasn't it?

Gradually, our heavy breathing subsided and Mistress Kimberly stood up. My stiff rod began to wither a little -- so painfully -- and as I got to my knees she was slipping into her sandals.

"Come on darling, let's get something cool and sweet to drink," she said. And I followed her: her bra, her garter belt, her stockings, her high heels and her entire gorgeous body into the kitchen.

-=o=-

5. Chapter

When we got to the kitchen, I took two glasses and removed the jug of orange juice from the refrigerator. As I closed the refrigerator door I managed to press my nylon-encased penis hard against it for a moment. The coolness and the pressure felt so good! If only she would let me play with myself...

I poured us each a glass of juice. As we sat down at the table, Linda came in to get herself a glass of water. "Kimmie, got him trained yet?" she asked.

"Still working on him, sis. Actually, 'he's' kind of a 'her'. I renamed her Tina."

Linda finally caught a glimpse of me. They both giggled. I felt so embarrassed. At first, it seemed that neither of them acknowledged that I was in the room too. Then I knew I was noticed.

"What! At it again? You certainly give new meaning to a man getting into a woman's pants." Linda said. Her sarcasm was evident. Mistress Kim smiled. I blushed.

Darling, where are your manners? Aren't you going to offer Linda your seat?"

"Yes, Mistress." I stood and held the chair for my Mistress' sister. Linda sat and, without warning, roughly yanked my panties down. Then she began to play with my engorged cock. The two girls exchanged knowing glances as if sharing an unspoken secret. It was so humiliating. But it felt so wonderful.

The act of playing with me must have triggered a memory in Linda's mind. "Do you remember Bobby Petersen?" She asked her sister. "How old were we then, 10?"

"How can I forget him," Kim replied. "He was our first ..." She hesitated before the next phrase. "... big boy."

Linda continued for her, "You mean the first one big enough to come." Turning back to me she said, "Bobby was about 12 and he had this humongous crush on Kim. She didn't really care too much about him as a boy, but she sure liked the attention she got from him. So, we had her invite Bobby over. She worked her usual charm and convinced him to try on some of her clothes and let her put a wig on him. She gave him some line about how she wanted to be in a school play and she needed his help to rehearse. He went along with it mainly because she let him change in our bathroom and keep his real underwear on."

"Of course, that didn't last for long. As planned, I walked in on the two of them and made a fuss. I kept chanting over and over, 'I'm going to tell. I'm going to tell.' Both of us cracked up laughing when we saw how red he got. He said that he would do anything as long as we didn't tell anyone. Well, we made him do more than just anything."

"Kimmie really made him get dressed up. We made him take off all of his clothes and gave him a pair of her panties. We also found a training bra that fit him well enough. I recall that we dressed him in one of Kimmie's party dresses."

My Mistress continued, "Bobby was so ashamed. I had so much fun! I made him put on my new white tennis panties that mommy gave me for my birthday, the ones with rows and rows of lacy frills. The training bra was yours, Linda. You never liked wearing bras then did you? But it was such a dainty, delicate frothy thing. And then, because Bobby was a virgin I made him put on my virginal white slip. It was the proper thing to do! He looked so sweet. I mustn't forget my lacy white short socks with the frills on top and my best black patent leather shoes with the bunny buckles. And I topped it all off with my very first bridesmaid's dress, the white one with the little girl look -- the Peter Pan collar and the puffy short sleeves and the wide pink sash that tied into a big bow in back. I just loved that it buttoned down the back.

After I finished buttoning Bobby he couldn't get out of it! I made him take off his wig, just while I made up his eyes and did the rest of his makeup. And it was so exciting to put on his lipstick. Remember how he begged me not to? I think it's so much fun to keep boys in lipstick and make them freshen it all the time. He looked just darling."

"I thought he looked like a sissy," Linda interrupted. "But I got off on how humiliated he was. Most boys that age just haven't learned to respect female power. You have to show them who's boss."

"But sis," my Mistress said, "you don't need to be rough with a boy to teach him that. I remember being so gentle and mothering to Bobby as I trained him to hold the edges of his dress and curtsy respectfully whenever he wished to ask for permission to speak. He knew his place."

"All I remember about lifting the dress was you making him raise the hem of his skirt and slip all the time so you could look and make sure he wasn't staining your panties with his little hard-on. And any time you didn't think he was hard enough, you 'touched him up' a little. You always got off on bringing a boy right to the edge and keeping him there, didn't you?"

"Really, Linda, that's not a nice thing to say," my Mistress replied. "It's just that I think a boy's semen is so sticky and messy. It just doesn't belong on pretty feminine clothing. Now when I come, that's a different story. I have my needs and I will have them satisfied. But that's why I keep a boy around, to lick up every last drop. I mean, really... what are boys for?"

Mistress smiled at me. I felt mortified standing next to her sister in my bra, with my panties half-way down my legs and with Linda continuing to stroke me, just a little, starting and stopping, now and then... It was heavenly and excruciating, all at the same time.

Linda took over the story at this point. "When Kim got done with him, it was my turn. Kimmie may like the way that boys look when they are feminine and frilly, but I don't think they deserve to look that good. I made him lay over my lap. I lifted up his skirt and slip and laid into his pantied behind. I told him what a bad boy he was for dressing in girls' clothes and that he should be ashamed of himself. He wasn't worthy enough to wear them."

"What I really wanted was to get at that penis of his. Kimmie got him dressed so fast, I hardly got a chance to see it. I told him to take off his clothes and 'jerk off' for us. Kimmie and I overheard some boys talking about jerking off, but we really didn't have any idea what it was. We just knew that it was something naughty, and that boys didn't like to admit that they did it, although all of them seemed to know about it."

"When we got to see Bobby do it, we agreed that the term was very descriptive. I just love watching men and boys jerk off for me. I think it's very nice that they do this with their bodies for me. Bobby must have been hot. He shot off like a geyser. There was come everywhere. I loved it!"

"Kimmie was different. She said 'ewyoo, yuck' and made a face that I didn't see again until the time we cut up a frog in biology lab."

Mistress explained her reaction. "Boys are gross! I mean, I like them in lots of ways, but... It's just that their silly 'tough jock' masculinity is so repulsive. I think all boys need to be helped to express their femininity. They need to appreciate the finer things in life. And, of course, I want them to serve me whenever I decide," she grinned.

"On that point we are in complete agreement, sister dear," Linda said.

For some reason, when Mistress was talking about 'tough jock masculinity', Linda stopped petting me. She just stopped! The frustration was too much and I began to cry.

Linda shot me a look of disgust, and she flared at her twin, "Kimmie, I don't have time for a queasy slave. I'm not going to put up with this crap. You agreed to train him. Can't you get his emotions under control?"

Kim looked apologetic.

Linda talked to her with the concern of an older sister for her younger charge. "Look, I admit that it takes more than physical control to make a man submit. You do a much better job than I do, bending their minds to things feminine. You really do. After a man's been with you, he knows what it is to be a woman and how to appreciate them."

"But you have to take care of the man's physical needs. Men aren't like us. We don't have a single organ on our bodies that controls everything we do. You have to seize control of their penises both figuratively and literally."

"I know you like to avoid sticky, messy sperm situations, but your domination will be more complete if you let him come, or make him come every once in a while. Make him work, beg, and debase himself for release, but you have to do it every now and then."

"It reinforces their training. Like Pavlov. Ring a bell when you feed a dog, and he eventually responds to the bell without the food. Humiliate and dominate a man as he's experiencing sexual gratification, and eventually he'll respond to your control with or without sex as the reward. The only difference between dogs and men is that men are easier to train."

"Conditioned reflex training is called 'Pavlov's Principle' -- I think we should call our training method 'The Worthington Principle.'"

"Linda," she hesitated. "I, um... know. You've told me this before ... Well, I ... er, forgot."

"Oh, Kimmie, howmanytimes, howmanytimes, howmanytimes!" Linda was exasperated. "Look, I'll take care of it now, but you need to get your act together. There's a house to paint here."

"Really, I'm sorry," Kim replied. "I just wasn't thinking. I'll set up the afternoon training session right now. And sis?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for helping. You've always been the smart one."

Linda smiled at her sister, "And you've always been the pretty one. I love you, sis." She gave Kim a playful slap on her butt.

6. Chapter

Kim got up and put her arm around me, she held me close to her and began to wipe my tears. "There, there, Tina dear. I know how difficult this is for you. Now I want you to pull up your panties and Mistress will give you a big kiss." I pulled up my panties. Mistress stared into my eyes and kissed me lovingly, her sweet tongue exploring my mouth insistently. As I savored the wonderful taste of her lipstick, she spun on her heel and walked out of the kitchen, down the hall to the bedroom.

"Get your ass in here," Linda commanded. "You're not going to paint in that outfit! Get those clothes off. Now!"

"Yes, Mistress," I murmured.

"We'll have none of that 'Mistress' crap with me. Look, Kimmie's all for that feminine stuff. I'm of a more practical sort. I'm not your Mistress. Mistress implies some sort of romantic attachment. I may be emotionally involved with you, by I am not romantically involved with you. It's like my dog, I am emotionally involved with him. I'd hate to lose him. But to think that I would be romantically involved with him ..." She laughed heart fully, "I may be kinky, but even I draw the line somewhere."

"In fact, the relationship between you and me is a little like the one I have with my dog. I like playing with him for my own pleasure, and he just loves me obediently and unconditionally. That's what I expect from you: obedience, unconditionally. No romantic involvement, no Mistress mysteries."

"No, this is a pure lust situation. I'm out to get as much sexual pleasure out of you as I can. If you must address me, address me as 'Ms. Worthington' and we'll get along just fine."

I stripped completely out of my feminine garments and gently folded and laid each piece on a chair as Kim had taught me. "Put these on." She tossed me a pair of sneakers similar to the ones she was wearing. "They're K-Mart specials. $3.99 a pair. You don't think I'd waste good money on you! They're size 11, the largest they had." I soon found that women's size 11 shoes were significantly smaller than men's 10. I could barely get my feet into them. My toes were wedged together and folded over. My instep pushed up against the tongue.

"Let me lace them up for you." Linda said. She did so tightly, and without mercy. My feet were in agony. She sat on the bench-high platform she used to torture me the previous day. She pointed to the floor in front of her. Kimmie's teaching paid off. I knew what to do without being told. I knelt.

She pulled off one of her sneakers and handed it to me. I put it to my face and started to inhale. This time the experience was even better. The shoe was fresh from her foot. The inside of her sneaker was like a tropical jungle; hot and steamy with strong fragrances.

I inhaled deeply, and relished the warm, moist sensation in my sinuses and nasal passages. I felt I was experiencing her intimately. She didn't even comment, and just let me enjoy. My penis throbbed and I could feel the pre-come dripping out of it. I reached for it.

"Not now, dickhead!" she warned. She slid off her other sneaker and allowed me to worship it as well. "Painting makes my feet so hot and sweaty. I think my feet need to be cleaned. Don't you?" Linda said, bringing her foot up to my face.

"TONGUE!" I presented my tongue and followed her directions as she told me how she wanted me to lick and kiss her feet. She really liked having me run my tongue up and down in the spaces between her toes. She also liked having her toes nibbled on.

My cock and balls were aching. "When will she let me come?" I wondered. "She let me come before. She's not going to change that now. Is she?"

Linda had me lower one end of the board to the floor. "Oh no," I thought, "she's not going to tie me up like she did yesterday." I hadn't had sexual release for nearly 24 hours. Under normal circumstances, I would have been at the very least, horny. But these circumstances were anything but normal!

I knew that my ordeal was going to be different this time when she had me straddle the board facing downhill. She had me lay on my stomach and put my hands behind my knees and she tied my wrists together under the board. I was concerned about the rough wood against the sensitive parts of my body. With all the blood in my penis, the slightest prick by a splinter on my penis might cause me to bleed out. I was in a most uncomfortable position.

Linda had the solution. She padded my penis by placing it inside one of her sneakers. The heel of the shoe cupped my balls nicely, and the head rested just about where the balls of her feet were minutes ago. The cushioned insole yielded a little to my inevitable probes.

My eyes were closed and my mind was elsewhere when the first slap came. POCK! It sounded like a racquetball being hit by a racket. It felt like a fat blackjack impacting my behind. "OW!" I yelled.

"No, 'ow,'" Linda corrected me. "That's one. You'll count off every spank I give you."

I looked back to see Linda standing there with the other sneaker in her hand. She was holding it by the heel and using the sole as the spanking surface.

"ONE!" She suggested again.

"One." I said.

"Kimmie is my sister, and I love her dearly." POCK!

"Two."

"But she doesn't have a full understanding of the discipline boys need." POCK!

"Three."

"She's more of the philosopher type, and that's OK." POCK!

"Four."

"You boys need to know why you are inferior to women." POCK!

"Five."

"But also you need to understand it more than intellectually."POCK!

"Six."

"I don't like seeing men in skirts and panties." POCK!

"Seven."

"You don't deserve it. You aren't worthy enough." POCK!

"Eight."

"I don't think boys should be honored by allowing them to wear feminine garments." POCK!

"Nine."

"In fact, the only use I have for men is how they can use their bodies to please me." POCK!

"Ten."

"Sometimes I just like to have them do something humiliating to amuse me." POCK!

"Eleven."

"I like making them jerk off. I really liked watching you piss on yourself." POCK!

"Twelve."

"I also like to make a boy use his tongue to please me." POCK!

"nn-Thirteen."

"It's nice to have something wet and pink between my toes." POCK!

"Fourteen."

"And it doesn't matter if that something is a penis or a tongue."POCK!

"Oof - Fifteen."

"Other than that, I really have no use for a boy's body." POCK!

"Ouch - Sixteen."

"Boys are such babies. They need disciplining." POCK.

"S-seventeen."

"For me that means physical disciplining." POCK! POCK!

"EIGHTEEN! Nnn-nine-teen."

"I don't care if I discipline his penis, his ass or his tongue."POCK! POCK! POCK! POCK! POCK!

I screamed and the tears broke loose. It wasn't wholly from pain. Each spank pushed my penis into her sneaker. The board bounced with our activity and I got the stimulation I needed mentally and physically, and front and back. I came and flooded her sneaker with my come. I could feel it welling up around my penis.

Linda rubbed my hot ass with the sole of her sneaker lovingly. "There, there. Is that better?"

"Yes, Mistress." POCK! "I mean MS. Worthington."

She untied me and I stood up. I looked behind me to see how pink my behind was. The sneaker made an excellent paddle. It spread the impact over a large area and flexed just enough to make the slap last a fraction of a second longer. It stung nicely, but it was difficult to do permanent damage with it. I knew I'd be ready for another spanking in an hour or two if Linda wanted to give me one. I was hoping she did.

"Now, you naughty boy." Linda told me. "Go stand in the corner with your hands on your head."

I did as she said. "No you asshole. Turn around and face the corner. I want to see what I've done to you. Sheesh! What an idiot!"

I stood in the corner for about 15 minutes as I listened to Linda prepare for the next phase of the painting project.

"Come here," she finally said. "Now that you know what a corner looks like. I want you to paint them for me. I can't get the roller in there, so it's important you do it right. You got that, Tommy?"

"Yes, Ms. Worthington."

"Just to make sure you do it right, and don't get paint on the ceiling or molding, I want you to use this brush." She handed me a brush that was about a half inch wide. "This will take forever," I thought, but I knew better than to express my complaint.

"Here, put this on." Linda said, holding up a frilly apron for me to walk into. "I don't want to get paint on my property." I was totally naked in the back, and Linda just loved to look over at my ass. I thought of the first day when I ogled her buns. So this was payback!

The task didn't take forever. It took over two hours. My feet were killing me in those sneakers. I couldn't take a normal step since my foot wouldn't flex and I couldn't rock from heel to toe. My shins and calves started to ache. If I kept this up much longer, I'd be lame.

I knew I wouldn't get relief until I finished my task. By that time we were almost ready for lunch. However, I had one more duty to perform.

Linda held up her spanking sneaker and said, "This one is empty. Time for you to make another deposit." She saw the terror in my eyes. In spite of my earlier estimates, I wasn't ready for another spanking.

"Don't worry, dick-brain," she chided me, "I don't have time for games

now. Lose the apron. You can beat yourself off into this thing." She sat on the punishment bench and held the sneaker out. I disrobed, dropped to my knees in front of her and jerked off. She caught every drop in her shoe.

"Stay there," she said. She stood up and turned around pushing her pink short- clad ass into my face twice as she put her foot on the board to lace up her sneakers. She stood up when she was finished and turned around to face me. "There," she said wiggling her toes. "That's what I think of men. The only thing they are good for is to squirt come for a girl's amusement."

"Semen," she said pointing to her feet, "is the greatest physical gift a man can give a woman. See what I think of it?"

"Kimmie, mealtime!" she shouted. "I think we'll keep you barefoot, naked and in the kitchen." It took me a minute or two to pry the sneakers off my feet. Every seam was imprinted on my feet.

7. Chapter

The kitchen setting might have caused Charles Dickens to expand on his "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." It was also, perhaps, the kinkiest of times.

My two very attractive Mistresses were seated at the table in the breakfast nook chatting happily. Although both young women exuded supreme confidence, I couldn't tell at a glance they were identical twins.

Linda was wearing her usual baseball cap and paint-speckled oversized shirt, with those sexy shorts under her shirt. She kept wiggling her toes in the sneakers she wore while sporting a mischievous grin. Kim looked dressed for a 'power' lunch on Wall Street in New York, with flawless makeup and her beautiful hair pinned up. She was dressed in a fitted green suit the color of her eyes. She wore a white, whisper-soft pure silk chiffon blouse under her waist-length double-breasted :-) jacket. The intentionally slim 19" mini skirt drew one's eyes to her luscious legs dressed in the sheerest nylon, and down to her 3-1/2" pumps.

I stood at the counter with a head of lettuce and some celery, chives, shrimp, oil and vinegar, preparing a shrimp salad for my dommes. I hobbled over to the refrigerator for a lemon.

My feet were killing me! I no longer needed physical restraint; the sneakers I just took off were so damned tight. I hoped that Linda didn't do permanent damage to my feet. The chains that held me now were all in my mind; every so often I'd look over at the strong women who presently ruled my life. I adored them.

The girls were dressed differently, but I wasn't. Wasn't dressed, that is. I was stark naked, my plump penis wagging happily as I moved slowly across the floor.

Was it only a few days ago that I had absolutely no idea how exciting and how natural it seemed to be serving women? I don't know how I was going to explain this to my wife. Margo loved me and cared for me for eighteen good years of marriage. I loved her dearly, but until this week I didn't understand what it -- the fact that she was Female -- really meant to me. I knew our life together wouldn't be the same. My mind wandered and I pleasantly thought about the consequences.

Linda's voice punctured my daydream. "Hey, asshole, get your pecker over here and bring some food. I'm hungry." I moved to the table as fast as I could.

Kim suggested, "Why, sweetness, you look so uncomfortable. Wouldn't you like me to help you slip into something soft and feminine?"

I stood before the two women, bewildered. How could I make them both happy? My mind couldn't solve this perplexing problem, but my penis didn't care. It started to twitch. Mistress Kimberly noticed first and gave a little cry of delight. "Look at that, sister dear. See, it is always best to deal with boys gently, to coax them to that state where they will give you everything you want from them, all the time."

"Bullshit! Train them right, and you don't have to be nice to them. I don't give a fuck what Tom thinks of me. I'm going to treat him any way I want, and he's going to like it. With some boys, the more of a bitch you are, the bigger their hard-ons get. As long as they get it off, they don't care what they let you do to them." As if to demonstrate, Linda grabbed my penis and pulled me closer. Then she started to slap my organ. Not very hard; I think she was toying with me. At any rate, my erection blossomed.

It felt so embarrassing to be there but talked about in the third person as if I were a pet or an inanimate object.

I was in an erotic daze for the rest of lunch. I remember bringing them their food and beverages, and realizing that the more I served them the better I learned to anticipate their needs. I felt proud at my progress and could see that eventually they would have me trained so well that, if they chose, neither of my owners would have to give me any instruction.

The other thing that surprised me completely was that my penis remained semi- hard all through lunch, even though when the women were eating they totally ignored me and my stiffness. At least in that setting, I didn't feel an overpowering need to jerk off. Which was just as well because that would have meant punishment and if Ms. Worthington and Mistress ever put their heads together to devise a torture that they both agreed on, I... well, it was a frightening thought.

As she finished her lunch, Mistress noticed my continuing hardness and pointed it out to Ms. Worthington. "Linda, look. I think our little boy is learning. After all, what good is a cock if it isn't hard all the time?" They both giggled.

I removed the dishes and silverware and began to wash up. As I did, it was so wonderful to listen to the girl talk. Somehow, I felt like one of them.

Shortly I finished cleaning up. "Kimmie, I gotta get back to work. Remember, I want him trained to PAINT, right?" "You bet, sis. I promise."

Ms. Worthington left the kitchen and Mistress beckoned me to follow her into the bedroom.

-=o=-

"Tami dear, you prepared a very nice lunch. You like to take care of Mistress' needs, don't you darling?"

The more she spun her feminine web, and the more she wrapped me in her feminine garments, the more sincere my responses became. "Oh, yes, Mistress. Mistress, you are so beautiful."

"Of course I am, sweetness. Do you like my new outfit? It's wool gabardine. What do you think of green?" Her little-girl voice and the coy, shy smile Mistress gave me could not conceal her raw power and confidence. I felt it wash over me; I was in awe of her.

She stood in front of me in her form-fitting green suit. The color of her eyes. The waist-length jacket (which did nothing to hide the inviting curve of her breasts), her tiny waist, the very short skirt which drew attention to the seductive swell of her hips, her nylons and the sensuous legs they covered, her knock-me-down-and-fuck-me pumps: the woman was drop-dead gorgeous. There were these conflicting thoughts running through my head. How she could project this aura of sweet innocence and at the same time control me to the core of my being, the mark I supposed of an experienced dominatrix, just baffled me.

I couldn't match her outfit. I had nothing on. It was so embarrassing. "Darling, that unsightly body hair will have to come off." She took two bottles of Nair from her suitcase and as she handed them to me she pursed her lips in delightful innocence and kissed the air next to my cheek. Also, she began to fondle my hardness and I knew there was nothing, not one single thing, I would not do for this exquisite creature.

Getting rid of all my hair, however, was ridiculous. It wasn't just a matter of manly pride; what would I tell Margo? I made up my mind quickly. I would please Mistress. I could always avoid having sex with my wife until the hair grew back. There was no common sense to my decision: several weeks of self-imposed celibacy with my wife for a few moments of pleasure with Kim. At the moment Kim dominated all my will. I didn't care about the consequences.

"Into the shower with you, sweetness."

"Yes, Mistress." As instructed, I stood below the shower nozzle spreading the thick gooey cream all over my body from my neck down. Mistress did not let me turn on the water for 15 minutes. The cream was so irritating to my skin; my erection wilted. Did women have to put up with this torture all the time?

When she allowed me to shower, it was such a relief. As my body hair piled up at the drain, part of me felt self-conscious, silly even. I felt even more naked and exposed. Another part of me was thrilled at the attention I was getting from Mistress.

During my shower Mistress left the bathroom but by the time I had finished she had returned with a very large fluffy pink towel and a box that she put on the counter. She had removed her jacket, blouse, skirt and, I guess, the slip that I was sure she had on underneath. "Dry yourself off, darling."

As I finished drying she ran her fingers lightly all over my body. It felt so different without my hair; I was truly naked. She was next to me in a very frilly and inviting sea- green color-coordinated lingerie set, high heels and a perfume scent that was just devastating. I wanted to bury my head between her soft breasts and never come out. Once again my cock was defying the laws of gravity. She had barely touched my maleness and still, the woman was driving me stark raving mad.

I begged. "Please, Mistress, I need you so much. I'll do anything, but please, please help me."

"Tami dear, now I want you to listen to me very, very carefully." Her speech slowed, she spoke each word very distinctly and her voice was oh, so soft. I hung on to every syllable. I was riveted on every nuance. It had been eighteen years since I had heard those very words, "I want you to listen to me very, very carefully," and the earlier speaker was the drill sergeant my first week at boot camp. At that time I was scared to death. This time I felt a combination of anxiety, frustration and arousal. I was totally bewildered, so completely under her control.

Quietly, and in her ultra-feminine voice she said, very v-e-r-y slowly, "Sweetness, I have told you that you ARE going to learn to control your immature urges. You WILL control yourself. You will find it easier as your training progresses but I will not have you acting this way, and if necessary I will think up a punishment for you that you will not like. Do you understand what Mistress is telling you?"

"Yes, Mistress." My tears welled up. I could see my watery eyes in the mirror.

Mistress gave me the nicest, lingering kiss on my cheek. "Why darling, I'm so glad you understand. This is going to be so much fun! Isn't it wonderful?" She was so good to me. And she took a large powder puff out of a circular box on the counter that said Oscar de la Renta on it and she dusted me all over with a powder that seemed to have the same scent as her perfume. She gave extra attention to my engorged prick with her puff. "You look so pretty, darling!" she exclaimed. "This is so delightful! You are just so sweet and so very feminine. Tami, dear, let's pretend that you're Mommy's little girl. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"No, darling. 'Yes, Mommy.'"

"Yes, Mommy."

"That's my little girl. Do you know it's a good thing you're my darling little girl because Mommy is getting all wet and excited. Isn't that wonderful? But Mommies mustn't play with their little girls. So I'll just have to try to restrain myself. That's sooo sad darling, don't you think?""Yes, Mommy." In spite of my own overwhelming sexual urges, I found myself responding to Kim's wishes, not because I thought playing along would make her love me. I no longer played along because the game was fun (Indeed it was still that!). I wasn't playing at all and this was not a game. I was responding to Kim's desires because it pleased Kim. And pleasing Kim became something exceptionally important to me.

I started to feel dizzy. Maybe I was hyperventilating. Mistress, Mommy -- whatever -- put her arm around my waist, held my hand and helped me as I staggered into the bedroom. She sat me down on the bed. I sat there for some time; eventually the stars -- little pinpoints of light that seemed to be floating across the backs of my eyeballs, and in the room all around me -- began to fade.

-=o=-

8. Chapter

As I began to become became aware of my surroundings once more, Mommy had a glass of water in her hand and she tipped it gently to my lips. "There, there, darling. Maybe my being Mommy was too much for you. I think I can take better care of your needs and your training if I go back to being Mistress. Is that all right, darling?"

Yes, Mistress." I looked up at her. She looked so concerned. And she looked so lovely. Somehow I just knew that whatever it was she was doing, she must be doing it because it was best for me. Mistress Kimberly helped me up, she put her arms around me and she held me. She was such a giving woman, so caring.

I began to feel better. Even my cock began to show signs of life. Yes, things were sure returning to normal.

"About your training, Tami dear. Look on the bed at the pretty things I have for you." I turned my head but I continued to hold her. I hadn't noticed when Mistress had helped me sit down, but there were pieces of femininity spread all across the bed, mostly sea- green, which matched the color of her bra, the color of her garter belt and the color of her panties. I didn't want to let her go because my cock was snuggled against her soft panties and her warmth beneath and I felt safe. Also on the bed was a pair of green high-heeled pumps (each with an ankle strap), a pair of sheer, nude nylon stockings, a few strips of green ribbon and a light green baby doll nightie.

Mistress leaned over and grasped the bra, helping me on with it. I felt comfortable. It was like this morning. I belonged in it. It was me.

Then Mistress took the widest of the green ribbons and lovingly tied it around my neck, finishing with a big bow in front of my Adam's Apple. I was perplexed. "You look just so cute in it, darling!" she teased.

Mistress helped me on with my garter belt, first dangling the garters all over my penis and telling me how pretty it all looked together, then she had me sit on the bed again. She showed me how to roll up one of my stockings, knelt in front of me (wow!) and helped me unroll it carefully up my left leg. I opened a garter stay and moved it towards the top of the stocking. Mistress caressed my smooth leg through the filmy feminine fabric. Her hair looked so lovely. I wondered if she would let me take the pins out and brush it for her.

I attached the garter stays all by myself. "Very good, darling. Now the other one." I put on my other stocking, fastened it and stood up. The cool, sheer nylon against my hairless legs was such a good feeling. As I began tracing my hands over the tops of the stockings, delighting in the texture, I glanced at Mistress to make sure this was allowed. She smiled at me approvingly. I was so happy to be enjoying the nylons with her pleased at me all at the same time! My cock was happy too.

"Into your heels, dear." I knelt and put them on. She helped me secure the straps. When I stood up I was a little wobbly. It was my first time in heels. I guessed they were only about 2-1/2" high. That was nothing for Mistress, of course, but it was a big deal for me. "Walk across the room, dear." I began to move, walking almost on my toes.

"Come down on your heels, dear. They won't break. Now back towards me." I began to get sort of a feel for how to walk in them. It seemed easiest to take little steps and I felt able to keep my balance better by raising my forearms and holding up my hands a little as I walked. My hairless arms looked so smooth. They felt smooth too.

"You're becoming a very attractive young lady, sweetness." Actually, I began to feel pretty good, and my organ, if not standing fully to attention for my Mistress, was certainly beginning to fill out. I liked walking on my new heels. I think I was really beginning to accept some of the joy of feeling feminine. I felt aroused but not frustrated. Was this the state Mistress wanted me in all of the time? Mistress did know what was best for me, didn't she?

Mistress asked me to pick up the baby doll nightie and hold it up against my body. It was such a pretty, delicate thing, green nylon with a transparent overlay, wide sheer shoulder straps gathered at the top and a cute nylon ruffle all around the hem and overlaying the bodice. Sort of a Grecian toga style (except it was too short for a toga).

"Hold it higher, sweetness, I want to see your penis." I raised the nightie a little. Mistress smiled. I think she enjoyed my holding it up, my displaying it for her. Or maybe she was pleased because my cock was now pointing straight out, parallel to the floor, and climbing. I felt wonderful.

"Now, put on the pretty nightie, Tina, dear." I raised the soft garment over my head and it slid down my body. Obviously, it wasn't made for my build, it wasn't long enough. It barely came down to the head of my penis, now standing almost to full attention.

Mistress walked up next to me and gave me a playful slap on my ass. "Darling, you look just so cute!" she squealed. And she fondled my member and I was in seventh heaven. "Now get your pretty panties and hold them in front of you." I grasped the lovely feminine undergarment and held it out. She had me hold my pretty panties, displaying them for a minute. They were full-cut briefs, made of that Diaphanique nylon, not completely transparent, but close. And there was that 2" band of pretty lace along the front of both leg openings. So feminine. Panties. The garment designed to be closest to Mistress' wonderful pussy all of the time. Softly caressing her.

"Put them on, dearest." I almost lost my balance stepping into my extremely feminine panties, but I recovered. The feeling of nylon against nylon as I slid them slowly up my legs, with Mistress looking at me approvingly, was indescribable. As I pulled my panties over my rock-hard cock, Mistress began to stroke me through the thin fabric. Obviously, Mistress was very pleased with me and my performance. She whispered to me, "Tina, you are such an obedient young lady to dress for Mistress when you are told. It's just so much fun to play with you through your lovely panties. I think Mistress will keep you in panties all the time now. Won't you like that? And I can see your hardness!" She continued to pet. "Such a pretty thing standing up for Mistress, straining through the silkiness..."

I was exceptionally hard, aroused. She kept stroking. "This time she'll let me come," I thought to myself. Anticipating. Hoping. "She is such an alluring, desirable female. When she gives me my release I will offer to kiss her pussy all afternoon and into the night."

"Darling," she cooed, "Mistress liked the way you displayed your nightie and your panties so sweetly. I just know you will perform like a perfect lady when you are downtown next week."

"Wha... what do y... you mean?" I stammered.

"Didn't I tell you? Nordstrom has their semi-annual women's sale next week." I froze.

"You need to spend time in their lingerie department to examine all the pretty intimate wear. You must start building your wardrobe, silly." I started to go beet-red.

"Mis... Mistress, that would be too humiliating. I just couldn't... couldn't."

"And you have to hold up the pretty things so the salesladies can be sure your new clothes will be a good fit. I have a list of things for you to buy. Wasn't that nice of me to write down what you need?" And she slowed her petting of my penis and lightened her stroke, then bent over and kissed it through my filmy panties.

She was standing before me, this provocative, perfect woman, dressed in her lovely bra, panties, garter belt, nylons and heels, not a hair out of place.

I clenched my teeth and willed myself to keep control, somehow... I had to learn to please Mistress. I just couldn't let her, would not let her see me break down. I would not let it happen. I stood there. She stood there. She looked at me. Waiting. And I burst into tears.

At that point I was crying so hard and wiping my eyes, I couldn't see anything. I blinked away the tears to see a smile appear on Mistress' face. She had broken me. Her objective was accomplished. She was now ready to move my training to the next level. From now on she could do anything to me and I would forever be grateful for the slightest scrap of affection she chose to give me. She had broken me. I knew it, and she knew it. I looked pleadingly at Kim's face and saw something in it she never showed before. The smile faded, so did some of the hubris. Was she actually concerned for me?

After the emotional trouncing my heart just took, I didn't know how to react. At least with Linda, there was no pretense. What you saw was what you got. She was out to have fun with you and she was going to take all that she could get. I was beginning to love her too, but in a different way. With Kim it was different. My attraction to her wasn't so much the lust of a man for a woman. But, how could I put this ... my lust for her was as a woman for another woman. I didn't feel manly at all in her presence, and I wanted to be the girl she obviously wanted me to be. I had so much to learn.

I was broken and I was crying. I expected Kim to laugh at me. Instead, she put her arms around me, but I couldn't return her embrace. I continued to sob like a little girl in her older sister's arms.

"There, there," she cooed holding me to her breast, and stroking my hair,

"Don't cry. You're not the first man I made cry. During my younger years many boys were attracted to me. I reeled them in excitedly, but usually I took a back seat as Linda bent and molded the impressionable young males to her will."

Kim drifted off. She seemed to be talking more to herself than to me. "They all learned, didn't they? The penis teasing, the spankings, the jerking off, the gobs of semen (ewyoo, yuck!)"

"Sometimes Linda was rough with them. But they seemed to like it. At least they kept coming back for more. We must have been doing something right. Ever since grade school we always had dozens of boys at our beck and call and EVERYONE enjoyed it."

"Except some of the other girls, who were jealous. Most of them didn't understand the tremendous power that was theirs for the taking, if only they had the courage to take charge of their boys and let them know who was boss. So, without female domination, the boys controlled."

"For those females, girl after girl experienced heartbreak. Their boyfriends had absolutely no idea of how important consistent sensitivity and attentiveness is to a girl. Without the proper female-sponsored training, they came and went. Like cattle through the turnstiles."

"Even though some boys cried at Linda's handling, they all kept coming back, until SHE tired of them. It took me a little longer, but I came to understand that the essence of boys was that they really needed to be controlled."

"Linda's the physical one. Me, I can't stand to see semen spewing everywhere. It's disgusting. It's so ... so ... male! I really can't watch a boy come. If I ruled the world there would be no men. Everyone would be well-behaved females."

She sighed and then laughed, "But then, who would Linda play with?"

"Tom, I've been able to tease and charm even the strongest man into submission. Any man. Any man I wanted. You're no different in that regard, but you are special to me."

"Because you are so special, I will treat you special." She took me over to the bed and helped me lay down on my back. She straddled my face, the crotch of her pretty panties all wet and with her wonderful female smell resting lightly over my mouth and nose. I could feel her move on top of me. She threw something over her shoulder. It landed on my cock. It was her bra. The image of her nearly naked body on top of mine was compelling.

"Kiss Mistress, darling. And Mistress wants you to play with yourself through your silky panties." Maybe she thought to herself that the panties would contain most of the sperm. "You've been a good girl for Mistress and it's time for your reward."

I could not believe what I was hearing. She was going to let me do something that she didn't particularly like simply because I was "special?"I was enveloped in her soft wetness. It was so comforting. And Mistress was going to allow me to pet my wilted cock through my panties? I thought, "I can't get my hand around it unless I put my hand inside my panties but, let's see, well if I move my cock up to its erection position... Yes. Squeezing the sides, stroking the underside feels sooo good. It feels good to be wearing the nylon panties too. And rubbing my nylons together, that's such a nice feeling. Mistress approves. She knows my need and she's letting me do it!"

I lapped Mistress Kimberly's pussy through her soaking panties and continued to play with myself. Kim got off me momentarily and then mounted my face again without her panties. My tongue found her sweet nubbin and flicked at it incessantly. I began to suckle softly on it like a baby and she was teasing her own nipples and our breathing became sooo strained as her soft thighs tightened around my ears. Her back arched. I stiffened. She screamed. I let out a heavily muffled shout and felt a large gush of wet, warm, luscious delight in my pretty panties...

"You are such a wonderful woman," I said in a muffled voice.

She looked behind herself. I could feel her shudder with revulsion. Yet she was willing to look.

She rolled off my face and snuggled up next to me. She fed me a nipple and I suckled on it contentedly as I drifted off... feeling so happy... feeling so secure ... feeling so tired...

-=o=-

9. Chapter

Some time later, Kim stirred. She removed a clean pair of panties from her small suitcase, retrieved her bra, blouse, half-slip, skirt and makeup kit and headed for the bathroom. I lay in bed cocooned in my female trappings. From the ribbon on my neck to the tips of my heels I

was enveloped in intimate feminine apparel. Strangely, I didn't feel aroused but I did feel totally comfortable. I decided that if, at times, I had doubts about the wisdom of submitting to Mistress Kimberly's training -- if I were uncertain about where it would lead -- it was likely that she really DID know what was best for me. That thought dwelt in my mind as I listened to Kim in the bathroom. I resolved I would try as hard as I could to follow her direction at all times.

Kim came out of the bathroom dressed to perfection. Her blouse and skirt looked as if they had been taken from the dry cleaning wrap just moments before. She had not a hair out of place. She was flawless. Except for a slight flush to her cheeks (which made her look even more adorable) and perhaps the relaxed aura about her. One might never guess what she had been doing just 20 minutes earlier or, for that matter, the play that for over an hour prior had let up to the intense, rather short burst of activity. She walked to the bed and smiled sweetly as she looked down at me. Then she frowned as she noticed the gluey, gooey briefs and said, "Tina, dear, we really must deal with your sticky panties. Please go to the bathroom and clean up. Mistress will find a clean pair of panties for you to wear."I moved towards the bathroom taking the little steps that seemed the only way to travel. As I moved, I had to agree with her; my panties felt like a real mess. I removed my panties, but I didn't take off my other dainties; Mistress had not said I could do that. I ran warm water over a washcloth and cleaned myself up, rinsing the cloth a few times. Then I dried myself with a towel and, on impulse, I took Mistress' puff from the Oscar de la Renta box on the counter and powdered the feminine scent all over the area I had cleaned. Perhaps I overdid it just a little. With a towel, I smacked the excess powder off the tops of my nylons and the front of my body.

When I returned to the bedroom, Mistress was packing her suit jacket into her small suitcase, which she closed and put a tray of some sort on top of it. She said to me, "I AM sorry, dear, I seem to have run out of clean panties. Even the darling pink ones you wore this morning have a stain on them, and that would never do. Tell me, what kind of panties does MRS. Greer wear?"

I froze at the mention of Margo's name. Somehow, in the almost nonstop erotic fervor that I had found myself in during the last couple of days, I had not thought of my wonderful wife very often. A feeling of guilt and fear washed over me.

My expression must have given me away. "I believe I know what you're thinking, dear, and it's all right. After all, hasn't MRS. Greer said to you several times in recent months that she felt you weren't being attentive to her needs? And don't you fudge on your share of the domestic chores -- the housekeeping and food shopping?"

I was astonished. "How... how did you know that? I stammered. "I really don't want to go into it, sweetness," Mistress replied. "You may discuss it with Linda if you like. But right now I want you to tell me how you feel about something from the time we met until now. Do you think you are developing a better appreciation of the essential truth that in order to be truly happy the male must serve the female, that he must put her needs first? Are you developing a better understanding of that?"

Kim was going where no girl had gone before, at least with me. I admit, I had my fantasies about living in a female dominated world, but that's exactly what it was, fantasy. Did she really believe this, or was all this for my benefit? She sure knew that I liked serving her and her sister. I was beginning to reconsider my relationship with Margo. If I could only figure out a way to tell her.

I wanted to serve these special women, but did I want to serve all women? My reason was clouded by Kim's dominance. She had the power to control my thought. "The purpose of man is to serve woman," I thought. Did I believe that? -- did she? At the moment I honestly didn't know.

She brightened. "Well then, sweetness, we really must get on with your feminine appreciation training. I want you to open the drawer of panties in that dresser and pick something that will match your pretty outfit."I was sidetracked by the immediate thought that, yes, there was one pair... And somehow, probably because of my total enchantment with the power of Mistress Kimberly's femininity, I never did get back to whatever it was that was bothering me.

I opened my wife's panty drawer. She had a fairly broad selection due, in part, to the fact that I was in the habit of buying her the pretty unmentionables for her birthday and for Christmas but I made sure I gave her other gifts also because, well, I didn't want her to think I was a panty freak or anything. There was so much I wanted to tell Margo now! I found them. The nylon briefs were white with a cute ruffle trim all around each opening, but also they had a little green ribbon with bow at the front of the waist and one on either side of the panties at each leg opening. They would match. Besides the color coordination I believed Mistress would like, I thought the ribbons provided a nice addition to the nylon and lace I was wearing.

I turned to Mistress proudly with what I had found and was about to put them on, but she stopped me.

"Come here, dear," she said, and I walked over to her, to the bed, beginning by now to feel a little self-conscious without my panties on. It had seemed natural before. That wasn't the only feeling that was changing; whether it was because I was rummaging through my wife's drawer of panties or because Mistress was such a vision of loveliness, I don't know; whatever the reason, my penis was growing again.

Mistress grew it to full staff with just a few strokes and then she kissed it! I had seen fresh lipstick pressed to a Valentine's Day card which clearly showed the imprint of my wife's lips, but the mark of Mistress' lips was now there clearly on my cock.

"There," she said, "Now everyone will know you are spoken for." Well, there were only the two of us in the room, so I didn't understand who "everyone" could be. But then Mistress had sprung so many surprises on me already I began to wonder if she had some surprise which would involve "everyone".

I forgot my wondering real fast. She began to play with me, no she was tying me... It was the other strips of ribbon, the narrower ones that had been on the bed all this time. I had forgotten about them.

Kim started looping the ribbon around the base of my cock. Although I could see what she was doing, I could never duplicate her intricate movements. All I knew is that I wound up with a loop of ribbon around the top of my balls, separating them from my penis. Another loop went in front of and behind my balls criss-crossing underneath. My balls stood out as clearly as those outside a pawn shop. She finished the whole thing off with a beautiful bow on top.

Mistress stood back a little to admire her handiwork. "How sweet! In fact, captivating would be a good word, don't you think?" she giggled. I wasn't sure if this was funny or not until Mistress explained, "Dear, this will prevent any accidents. You may not touch the ribbons without Mistress' permission. And you won't be able to come unless the ribbons are removed. Isn't that just wonderful? Put on your panties, dear."

"Yes, Mistress." I didn't know if I was ecstatic as she was, but I'd promised myself I'd try as hard as I could to do everything she asked of me and, after all, she did know what was best. As I stepped into my new panties and pulled them up my legs there was that thrill again as the nylon of my panties pressed the nylon of my stockings. I brought them down to my ankles once more and up again to try to satisfy my appetite for this strange, wonderful new feeling.

Meanwhile, Mistress sat down in my chair and was looking at the reflection of her lips in a compact mirror as she freshened her lipstick."Tina, dear, come and let me have a look at you." I minced towards the chair, as I thought she expected me to move.

As I stood before her it was clear that her eyes were focused on my crotch, on my rock-hard penis straining inside its silken prison. I felt embarrassed that the length of my baby doll barely reached the top of my panties; I had this helpless feeling. But it appeared that Mistress liked it just the way it was. I asked her if I might try to find a waltz-length nightie because I thought I would feel less exposed. She laughed and said that perhaps, in the future, she might permit something a little longer.

"We must get on with your training, dear. It is important that you demonstrate respect for Mistress at all times. Any time Mistress enters a room, any time you speak to Mistress, you are expected to curtsy. When you are wearing ladies' slacks we will handle things a little differently, but today we will practice with your skirt."

"But this is a nightie, Mistress."

"You didn't curtsy, did you, sweetness? I know it's a little shorter than your skirts will be but I want you to grasp the hem on each side and pull them out just a little as you lower your head, bring one leg back and bend your knees slightly."

Mistress had me practice curtsying for the next half hour. I learned the difference between a normal curtsy and a more formal one, which was far more difficult in terms of how low to the rug I had to get. I fell over twice before I eventually got the hang of it. She laughed. I think my heels were the problem, but she wouldn't let me take them off. She said there was no point in learning to curtsy without heels if I was going to be wearing them all the time. These references suggesting that my dressing up might be more than an occasional thing bothered me until I remembered my promise to do everything she told me. And besides, she looked so absolutely lovely.

Technically, the ribbons worked. That is, my engorged penis stayed rock-hard through all of the curtsying. Mistress remarked on that several times and clearly she was delighted. In a way, I felt safe and secure tied up the way she'd done it. But it took so much of my willpower to fight the periodic waves of total frustration that I began to feel exhausted. I didn't think I could stand much longer.

Mistress noticed my distress and told me to kneel before her. She was so perceptive, and so good to me.

As I gazed up into her beautiful green eyes (forcing myself to ignore the delectable viewing options over all the rest of her body but not, unfortunately, the soft insides of her thighs as her legs were crossed) she told me I was now ready for my first painting lesson.

At last! I knew Ms. Worthington did not think much of my painting skills and now Mistress was going to train me how to do it properly.

"Sweetness, as you are a beginner Mistress wants you to focus first on paint removal skills and then, especially, on accuracy. And Mistress knows that if you start small and get it right, then you will be better prepared for the larger jobs later on.

Well, what Mistress said seemed to make sense. I waited, expectantly."Please crawl over to my suitcase and get the materials I have placed on top." I was grateful Mistress allowed me to crawl because I really didn't feel I could stand on my heels without more rest.

When I got to her suitcase, I was astonished. But I found that when I was on my knees it was actually easier to curtsy than when standing up. Because my knees were already bent as much as they reasonably could be. I curtsied. "But Mistress, this is nail polish remover and nail polish and a set of little Styrofoam thingies and cotton balls. And the brush is so small I don't see how this training could help me paint better. I mean, real painting."

"Are you questioning Mistress, darling?"

I thought about Mistress' question for only a few nanoseconds. I curtsied. "No, Mistress."

I crawled back to Mistress with my tray of materials (have you ever tried to crawl on both knees but with only one hand, because the other is holding a tray?) and positioned myself at her feet. I followed her directions and removed her pumps. Then I moved respectfully back a few feet as she stood and removed her skirt and slip.

When she sat in my armchair once more I crawled to her. She was so nice to allow me to unfasten the garter tabs from the top of her stockings and carefully remove the nylons from her luscious legs.

"Darling, the pink polish went very nicely with the outfit I had on this morning, but it doesn't match my green suit very well does it? That's why you have the fire-engine red. Like my lipstick." She pursed her lips and kissed the air. She looked so beautiful. I wanted so much for her to wrap those wonderful lips around my cock and nurse at it, restrictive ribbons or not. But she was all business. As she taught me what to do she explained that she wanted not only the perfect color for her outfit and her hair, but also she shared with me that some college professor had made an error in judgment and did not understand that she was a straight 'A' student.

Later, at class she intended to help him understand his mistake, and for that, she wanted perfect nails and she would accept nothing less than perfection from me. If I was good at my new job and if I continued as well with my training as I had so far on my first day (was it really only the first day with Mistress?), I might be allowed to do her nails every day. I learned the proper technique for removing polish. I learned that the Styrofoam thingies were separators for her pretty toes. I had two false starts with the fresh polish when I accidentally brushed a little on her delicate skin. She made me remove it all and start over. I think my mistakes were because when I opened the bottle of nail polish, the aroma (unlike the smell of the remover) captivated my senses. That probably contributed to my carelessness. But I felt so lucky that I was at her feet serving her need. I really began to understand that serving woman was a privilege for me. I knew my place. I belonged at her feet. And in what seemed no time at all I had finished each of her delicate toes and felt so proud of myself. I screwed the top back on the bottle of nail polish.

"Now, darling, here is where you must take extreme care not to get ANY polish on my freshly painted toes. Take off my panties and be very careful as you slide them off my feet."

Mistress' directive startled me, but I got right to the task as she raised her hips slightly. I slid her panties over her curvaceous hips, down her long shapely legs and I was extremely careful as I took her glistening toes through the leg openings and waistband of her briefs, and didn't get a single particle of polish on anything.

Mistress' next directive didn't startle me. In fact she didn't have to say anything; I was learning. She just smiled and spread her beautiful legs. Again, I got right to the task.

Kissing, lapping, flicking my tongue and suckling on Mistress' wonderful pussy, with her soft thighs squeezing my ears, with her female scent and juices, is an indescribable wonder. I know that my body is not within hers, I know I am kneeling on the floor. But somehow it feels as if all of me is inside her. I feel so loving of her and at the same time feel so safe and protected by her. This time it was a little different. Although I felt completely buried in and surrounded by the inviting warmth, also I could tell by the insistent pressure of her thighs that she had her legs raised straight out, nothing supporting them. Of course. This would be because Mistress had no intention of getting the slightest smudge on her freshly painted toenails. Mistress was such a fabulous woman. Mistress tensed, then screamed, her thighs squashing my head. Oxygen deprivation caused me to feel dizzy, disoriented in that enveloping whirlpool. It was wonderful.

Mistress had me give the same detailed attention to her long fingernails as she had me give her toenails, and it seemed that I was finished in no time. Then she had me put her materials back on their tray and place them on the counter in the bathroom. Finally, after the time I had spent on my knees, I was able to stand again reasonably well.

By this time, Mistress' toenails had dried and she had me put her stockings back on, her panties, her half slip, her skirt and her pumps. I was quite good at dressing her and Mistress said that I should expect those talents to be put to use on a regular basis. I was not quite sure what she meant but I was proud that by this time I was beginning to be of real value to her.

But, also by this time, the frustration connected with my unrelieved hard-on was just unbelievable. If I had managed somehow to control myself for Mistress and delay my own personal gratification for the proper time as determined by her, the tight ribbons refused to allow me to go soft. I was trapped.

"Please, Mistress," I begged. "Please take my ribbons off. I can't take it any more."

Mistress looked genuinely concerned. Her compassion for my problem was obvious. And she really looked sad as she said, "But I can't, sweetness, my nails are still wet."

She thought for just a moment, then "LINDA!"

-=o=-

10. Chapter

I stood there trembling and shaking. In my high heels it was just so hard to keep my balance.

"Don't fuss, Tina dear. Everything's going to be all right," Mistress said. She got up and kissed me softly on the cheek. I wanted her to put her arms around me but I knew that she wouldn't because her nails weren't dry.

Ms. Worthington appeared at the door. As I had been trained, I raised the edges of my baby doll and executed a perfect curtsy for my Mistress' sister."Kimmie, what? You're interrupting my schedule, I gotta get back to work."Mistress pouted. Then, "Linda, you asked me to train Tina to paint, and I did it! Isn't that wonderful? Look, I really have to get off to my marketing class. The one on guerrilla tactics, you know? Prof. Lucas is such a bother when I'm late. But, guess what? I've figured out how I'm going to get him to change my 'C' to an 'A'! See you later. Bye-bye, sweetness. Kiss- kiss." And she blew me one as she carefully picked up her small suitcase and left. As she walked out, I stared at the wonderfully natural wiggle of her hips.

"That's cute!" Linda smirked as she made me get undressed. The "that" she was referring to, of course, was the green ribbons that trussed up my balls.

"That's a new one," she went on, "I've never seen Kim do that before. Nice touch. I hope she didn't cut off too much circulation. I have plans for that thing."

"Please. Mistress ..."

Linda glared at me.

I corrected myself, "Please Ms. Worthington."

"That's better, boy. Please what!"

"Please don't."

"PLEASE DON'T WHAT?" she said with great impatience.

"Please don't make me come. I haven't been able to come more than three times in one day since I was a teenager."

Linda was astounded, "Three times? ... You mean Kim? ... You mean MY SISTER Kim?" She broke out laughing. "Well THAT is a new one." "Kimmie doesn't like come. Never has. She thinks it's too messy. I was the one playing in mud puddles as a little girl. Kimmie had her Barbie dolls and tea parties."

"Kimmie hasn't made a boy come since she was 13. I used to be able to talk her into it, but she really got turned off after one of her friends got raped. Her friend told her how the rapist came all over her. Ever since then she's been anti-male, but anti-violent too. I think she thinks I'm too mean at times."

"Get those ribbons off your stupid cock right now. I'll decide if and when you'll come next. You realize you don't have a choice in the matter. If I stimulate your cock enough, you'll come whether you want to or not. You might get to the point where nothing is coming out anymore, but you'll still twitch with the sexual equivalent of dry heaves. Your prick is too dumb to know your balls have run out of semen."

I undid the ribbons carefully. I felt relief in getting the pressure off my cock, but I felt sadness as well as I cast aside this gift from my Mistress. My cock throbbed with my pulse as tiny rivulets of precome leaked out with the rhythm.

I followed Linda out of the bedroom, down the hall. She pointed to the scaffold in the middle of the room. "Surf's up! Time to get on your board." She laid me on my back on my favorite torture platform for our afternoon session.

"I'm not like Kimmie, I just love to watch boys come, and although I don't consider myself violent, I don't mind a little action. I don't have the patience she has. Besides I have a job to do here, and you're no help. Now that Kim is gone, I don't feel I can trust you." She said as she finished tying me off.

Linda went back to work where I could see her. The pink shorts burned into my eyes. The movement of her ass was hypnotic. I felt like the hapless prey, frozen in the glare of the cobra the instant before it strikes. Her movements were torture to me. Yet I couldn't look away. My cock, relieved three times already today, was pounding of its own accord protesting for release. Why did I do these things to myself? I could have closed my eyes.

Even though I could close my eyes, I couldn't close my mind. In my memory was her sneakers filled with my come. I could see her wearing them now. Even though I couldn't see it, I knew she was walking in my semen. I wondered how it felt for her. She seemed to be absolutely beaming when she first put the shoes on. She kept wiggling her toes all through lunch. Kimmie had made a face when she found out what her sister had done, but between Linda and I there was an unspoken understanding that my seed belonged at her feet.

Linda spent her time moving swiftly from project to project with the speed and skill of a professional painter. I was definitely getting my money's worth on that account.

Linda broke late in the afternoon and disappeared into the bathroom for several minutes. When she returned, she was naked from the waist down."Did you know you were out of toilet paper?" She asked, "You must have used it all up cleaning off your cock after you jerked off for me

the other day. You should have replaced it."

I wanted to tell her that the spare roll was in the drawer next to the sink but what was the use.

"Not replacing the toilet paper was a bad thing, Tommy," she said, lecturing me like an errant 9-year old. "Apparently you depend upon your wife to perform maid service for you."

"Well, I'm not your maid, and neither is she. That's something you'll have to get used to. Running out of toilet paper is an incredibly stupid male thing to do. Can't you get anything right? Maybe you don't need toilet paper all the time, but women do. It just shows you how inconsiderate you boys are. This is worse than leaving the seat up."

"Since you made the mistake, you're going to have to fix it. We'll just have to make do." She said, swinging her leg over my face again. This time she was facing my feet and as she lowered her lovely tush towards my face, I could see that she wasn't bluffing. I could soon smell it too, as she wiggled herself into position.

Surprisingly, I recognized the sight and smell. Margo sometimes put me on a diet with a lot of fruit, vegetables, and fiber. My bowel movements were frequent, large, and soft. I called the condition, "the vegetarian shits."

The darkness of her ample rear end descended upon me. Her ass cheeks felt cool and soft against my face cheeks. I didn't react immediately until she gave my penis a sharp whack with the paint stirrer and commanded.

"TONGUE!"

"How many times am I going to have to tell you that?" she complained.

"Are you some kind of retard?"

I stuck my tongue out and tasted the sour confection left behind from her recent defecation. I licked along the sides of the crack, and up and down the center, flicking the anus with the tip of my tongue. She was in no mood to tolerate this for long. She moaned and said, "Stop teasing me boy, and put it in there."

Damn! This girl knew exactly what she wanted, and wasn't afraid to ask for it. Somehow she knew what I needed, and was giving it to me too. However, I was under no delusion that she was doing this for my benefit. She was out to have her fun, and was going to get it at my expense. Yet, that seemed perfectly natural to me.

I probed harder at her sphincter, and after a little resistance, managed to wedge my tongue in. All the while, I was fully conscious of the smooth, silky, and soft folds of her ass smothering my face. In spite of my predicament, I was in heaven, and she knew it.

"Sweet Jesus, look at the size of this hog!" she commented grabbing my penis. "Boy, you must really be having a good time. You're so good at it too! It's like you were born to do this. You must really like having your tongue up a girl's ass! Mmmm, what an ass licker!"

That was an understatement. I was bound and totally under the power of a female half my age. I had my tongue attached to what could be considered by her to be the lowliest part of her body. To me it was close to one of the most sacred. The very least parts of her, even her offcasts and waste products, were special gifts to me. She was spending her valuable time to humiliate me, and I was honored!

I managed to grunt out a, "unh-huh."

She squirmed some more and pushed down harder with her tush. She wanted to help me get my tongue as deep into her rectum as possible, but she knew she had to let me breathe as well. She alternately raised and lowered her body providing a slow, deep probing motion. My head was pinned under her ass, and she had total control over the activity. I don't know how long she had me buried under her sweet mountain of flesh.

I wanted it to last forever.

-=o=-

11. Chapter

Linda got dressed and continued her painting. Since I didn't have a clock in my field of vision, I really didn't know what time it was. I guessed that it must have been close to the end of the workday when she packed up her things and untied me.

"Look at that thing," she said pointing at my penis. "We'll have to get the swelling down somehow. I can't leave you like that. If I do, you'll just jerk off, and you're not allowed to do that without permission."

I was sort of glad to hear that. Being erect for most of the day was difficult no matter how many times I had come, but I was concerned about her expectations. I was, after all, coming up hard on 40, and I didn't have the juice I had 20 years ago. I was sure Linda's experience was mostly with men close to her own age.

"I'd love to serve you Ms. Worthington, but I don't know if I have any semen left after what you and Mistress Kim did to me."

"Hmmm, I see what you mean. Maybe we'll have to replenish your sperm supply," she countered. She pointed to the floor in front of my punishment platform. "Kneel. Get down on all fours and face the board."I did as ordered. She slid a chair over, sat on it, put both legs over the board, and planted the toes of both her sneakers in front of my face. "Kiss them," she said, and I obliged. She untied one and slid her foot out. It was covered with my slimy come.

"Lick it clean, dick-brain," she ordered, putting her calf on the board, and positioning her foot right in front of my face. I closed my eyes and went for it. The taste of come, sweat, and whatever else was dissolved from the inside of her shoe was overwhelming. I nearly gagged. However, after all the training the Worthington twins gave me over the last couple of days, I didn't even consider not doing it.

It felt funny to be running my tongue around an already well-lubricated foot. But Linda was enjoying it, and it was important to me that Linda enjoy whatever I do for her.

When I got that foot clean, she made me do the other. Then it was time

to clean out her sneakers. She made me stick my face into it a lick up

all that I could. The smell was stronger than all my previous sniffing

expeditions put together.

I couldn't reach all of the insides of her sneakers although I probed and pushed with my face as hard as I could. The come covered everything, and I emerged from my task with my face coated.

Linda laughed at me. "You really will do everything I tell you to do. Won't you?"

"Yes Ms. Worthington."

"Good, obedient, Tommy. Now go clean yourself off like a good little boy." She sent me off to the spare bathroom with a playful swat on my butt. When I came back, I noticed that she had donned socks and put her work boots back on. She tossed her sneakers at me one at a time and I caught them. "Here," she said, "You'll wash them out by hand tonight. I want them absolutely clean inside and out."

She walked over to me holding up a collection of toothbrushes. "I picked these up from the master bedroom bath. Which is yours?"

I pointed it out to her. She gave it to me and said, "You'll need it to get into the ridges on the outsole," she said running her finger over the strip of rubber holding the soles to the uppers. "While you're at it, it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to get the crepe rubber soles clean as well. When you get done with the rubber parts make sure you get the canvas clean as well. I suggest massaging them with your fingers. Use a hair dryer to get them dry. I might want to wear them first thing tomorrow. I want to see them looking like new in the morning. If you do a good job, I might let you do the rest of my sneakers. If you don't do a good job ..." She let it hang. I had no idea what would happen to me if I didn't do the task to her satisfaction and I had less of an idea that I wanted to find out.

"You ARE going to do a good job, aren't you?"

"Yes, Ms. Worthington." I realized that domination from these women was not limited to just when they were present. They were now giving me "homework" assignments to keep me busy when they weren't around."Now, let's see what we can do to get rid of that swelling," Linda said directing me to the board once again. This time I lay there for a while untied as she disappeared into the kitchen. I no longer needed restraints, I simply did as she said.

I heard the can opener. So did Toby, our rather oversized and lovable but otherwise useless feline. I observed the orange blur as she sprang from wherever it was she was sleeping and took the most direct route to the kitchen. Toby moved at a slow and regal pace at most times, but lost all dignity when it came to food.

Linda returned carrying squeeze bottle. Toby was almost between her feet as she walked, magically avoiding getting stepped on or kicked as only a cat can do.

Linda removed her shorts and panties and straddled my face. She lowered her pussy to my face and gave her usual monosyllabic command, "TONGUE!" I reached out with the named organ and lapped at her clitoris. Linda leaned forward. The next thing I felt was a drop of something hitting my penis. Then I felt Toby bound full upon the board. Toby's motor was idling rather loudly. I could hear her purring even though both my ears were muffled by Linda's thighs.

Another drop hit my penis. I could feel Toby's nose nuzzle my organ, then her tongue. The rough, wet, warm surface had me fully erected with just two licks.

Linda explained what she was doing. "This is a mixture of milk, a dash of honey, corn starch, and a dash of oil left over from that shrimp we had. Toby seems to like it, don't you think?"

I managed a "nuh, huh" without my tongue even breaking stride. Linda was dive-bombing my penis with the liquid with pin-point accuracy. She placed it drop by drop on the exact spot where she wanted Toby to lick next. Linda let Toby work her way all the way around the head of my penis several times before allowing her to concentrate on the underside.

Linda held my penis still with one hand so Toby could do her job. Once she did that, Toby's sandpaper-like tongue had an immediate effect. My balls contracted, and I shot my come straight up apparently, since it landed back on my penis.

Toby took time out to bat at my penis with her paw as I was coming. I was glad she was a strictly indoor cat and was declawed. Then Toby went back to work on my penis with her tongue. Linda had stopped dripping the liquid, but Toby was still licking my cock!

Linda laughed and left Toby to it. I wondered briefly if Toby was merely licking at my penis because of a conditioned reflex. Then I dismissed it; cats don't learn that fast, if at all. Toby liked the taste of semen! "It seems your cat learns faster than you," Linda said. "Now get licking and get me off." I increased the tempo of my licking, trying in vain to ignore Toby's ministrations to my cock. In less than a minute I had my reward. Linda's body tensed, and my face was flooded.

Linda dismounted and got dressed. Toby finished with her snack by now, also dismounted and went in search of a new place to take a nap or give herself a bath.

Linda let herself out. She stopped at the door and turned. "Big day tomorrow. Don't forget my sneakers."

I stood there naked in front of her. "Yes Ms. Worthington."

-=o=-

12. Chapter

If the start of the day was getting to be predictable, it was the most pleasant routine I could think of. It was 8 a.m. sharp and the girls were on my doorstep.

Linda stood there chewing a stick of gum, a smirk on her face, and said, "Hi, boss!" There was no question who was boss and she knew it and I knew it and she knew I knew she knew it. But I didn't think about that."Why, Mr. Greer," Kimmie said sweetly. "You look so powerful, so... so masculine today. Why, any girl's heart would go pitter pat just by looking at you."

`I guess I did look pretty good. Earlier I'd showered and shaved and had put on my shorts and my freshly ironed Washington Redskins cutoff jersey. I had rolled up the sleeves and stood in front of the bedroom mirror expanding my chest, checking my biceps. Then I put on a clean pair of jeans and socks, laced up my sneaks and stood again in front of the mirror. "Yup." The shirt seemed to have just the right touch, emphasizing my fairly broad shoulders and tapering to my slim waist. The jersey's ragged edge ended just above the belt line of my jeans. The jeans themselves were a perfect fit and hugged my buns; overall I had that clean, athletic look. And I felt terrific, full of energy. It must have been the good night's sleep.

The twins were a contrast in perfection. Linda had on her usual baseball cap but was wearing a pair of white overalls, decorated with paint smudges and spatters from earlier work that hadn't come out in the wash. And her work boots. But I knew the body beneath and I knew her arrogance.

"Powerful female, needs some taming," I thought to myself.

Kimmie's soft flowing red hair set about her shoulders and it looked like she had no makeup on. Well, a light touch of lipstick; her clear smooth complexion required no makeup if she chose not to wear any. It was her dress as much as anything that gave her that 'little girl' look. All white, with a peter pan collar, short puffy sleeves and a slight A-line from the swell of her breasts to perhaps only a third the way down her thighs. Short white cotton ankle socks and black Mary Janes. And her white bag, I guessed a shoulder bag to judge by the length of the strap. She was swinging it lazily back and forth.

The dress style did not emphasize her breasts. But I had this intense urge to reach up under her skirting, rip off her panties, drag her inside, drop her on the couch and do her. Mad, passionate sex. Right then and there.

And Linda. She could have been standing there in sackcloth and ashes, beating me with a broom. I'd take anything she decided to dish out. Because that would mean I'd be WITH her. Just the two of us. Alone. I took a deep breath and flexed my muscles, hoping somehow to impress these two vixens. They looked at each other and smiled. It was no use. They ruled and they knew it. But for my eighteen years of marriage while I had always cared for my wife, it was I who made the decisions. Margo seemed to accept that. That's the way I thought it was supposed to be. If I even hinted at that to the two women I faced, they'd laugh. I knew it. As I exhaled I looked down at my shirt and it seemed that even the Indian's feather was wilting. It was so confusing.

"C'mon, Tommy boy. Time to get to work," Linda said. She brushed past me, headed for the patio outside the living room where her materials were stored. I looked at Kimmie, poised, unhurried. Perhaps waiting for me to do something.

"Oh, excuse me, Kim." I opened the door wider for her and stood aside. She nodded as she stepped into the house. "Why thank you, Mr. Greer. That was so thoughtful of you." I closed the door. I took in all of her, wondering how, wondering what would be the proper way to act with her. It turned out there was no need to waste the time thinking about it. Linda's shout came clearly from just outside the back of the house, "Kimmie, you take him, I'm gonna get right to work."

Kim got right to work also. She put her arm through mine -- I had not thought to offer her my arm -- and we walked in the direction of my bedroom. Another shout from Linda: "I want him later for recreation." I blushed.

"Kim," I started...

"That would be Mistress, wouldn't it sweetness?" she said.

"Well, I don't know that we should..."

"Tina," she said sharply, "It will NOT be necessary to re-establish your proper place, now will it?" She stopped; we were outside the bedroom. Her eyes were fixed on mine. Although I knew she was looking up at me, I felt that she was staring me down. And suddenly we both knew how it would be between us, how it had been almost from the moment I'd met her.

"No, Mistress." "Why sweetness, that's just wonderful!" And she took her arm from mine and placed a hand on each side of my face and leaned up and kissed my cheek. "Come into the bedroom with Mistress, sweetness." She walked in, gave a small skip, twirled in front of my armchair and sat down in it. "Tina, dear, your jeans look so uncomfortable. Is there something growing there?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Well, then, the jeans need to come off. Sit down in front of me and take off your sneakers." I sat and began to untie my laces. Then I got up and removed my pants.

"Darling, you really are going to have to pay attention to Mistress. Boxer shorts are ugly. You must throw them all out. Yesterday I had this wonderful thought that you should be kept in panties all the time. Do you remember me saying that, sweetness?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Well, then. Shorts off, socks too."I stood there in my Washington Redskins shirt, feeling a little sheepish and feeling a lot undressed. But at the same time my cock, which had been in a plump state all this time, began to grow.

"Sweetness," she was staring at my penis, "Mistress is certainly glad your biceps aren't the only muscles you like to flex. Mistress likes it when you are hard for her. You WILL stay that way for me, won't you sweetness?"

"Mistress, I don't think... I mean, I can't control... Oh, Mistress! You are such a beautiful woman." My right hand moved towards my cock."Take your hand away, darling. You didn't wear your panties, did you?

That was very naughty and Mistress is upset with you."

She had this pout on her face and, despite my frustration I had to admit she was right. I hadn't dressed properly for her. And she looked so lovely sitting there in her innocent (but so-seductive) dress, her hands folded in her lap.

Something seemed slightly out of place. Then, as I studied her I realized that although so much of her clothing and demeanor suggested "little girl" those perfectly shaped fingernails said "woman". And it was only yesterday afternoon I had cared for her nails and applied a fire-engine red nail polish. This morning they were pink once more."Tina, I thought you wanted to please Mistress," she said.

"I do, Mistress. Really."

"Well then, take off that silly shirt and get properly dressed." I pulled my shirt over my head. "Mistress, do you have things for me to wear?"

"Why no, darling. Do you mean to say you haven't bought them yet?"

I was confused. I knew the previous afternoon she had said something about my going shopping and she'd given me a list, but it was just a joke. I thought it was a joke. I hoped it was a joke.

Maybe it wasn't a joke. "No, Mistress."

"Really, sweetness! We will just have to make do. Go to MRS. Greer's drawer and take out a pair of pretty panties. And a bra, garter belt and nylons too. I don't want you partly dressed when company comes."

Stunned, I headed toward the dresser. I didn't even want to ask what Mistress meant by 'company'. When I was with this woman, life seemed to be one nonstop succession of surprise, frustration and embarrassment. And pleasure. My cock was standing straight up.

I dressed in a daze. The light blue panties didn't match the white bra and garter belt, but I hardly noticed. A week earlier I would never have considered doing what I was doing. But now I knew what Mistress expected and, in that light, it seemed only natural.

"Very nice, darling. But I am still upset about your forgetting. I want you in panties all the time. How are we going to remember that, sweetness?"

"I don't know, Mistress. But I promise not to forget again."

"I'll call you my little panty slave. That should help, don't you think?'

"Yes, Mistress."

She gave a little cry of delight, and then "Darling, you are not wearing any heels. You still are not properly dressed."

I knew not to argue. I went to the closet and took out a pair of Margo's heels. These were sandals. They were made of thin white straps, which would show more of my feet. Thank goodness the buckle allowed me to let out the strap that slipped up each of the heels of my foot. The heels themselves looked to be about 3" high and I didn't know if I could walk on them but I was sure Mistress expected me to try. So I put them on and returned slowly to Mistress. I found that if I continued to take short, little steps and if I used my arms to help balance, that I was able to move without wobbling too much.

I stood in front of Mistress, now properly dressed (I thought), my cock rock-hard and nestled in my panties. She looked me over critically and then she smiled. She stood and stroked me through my panties, just a little."Mistress' panty-slave won't forget to wear her panties in future, will she?"

"No, Mistress."

"That's a good girl." She turned her back to me. "Darling, Mistress has been getting all wet. Unbutton my dress."

I needed no second invitation for that and I undid the buttons carefully down the back, helped Mistress from her dress, from the slip she had underneath, and carefully placed her clothing on the bed. Mistress stood before me in her bra and panties; even with her little-girl socks and shoes she most definitely did not look like any little girl I had ever met. I squeezed my engorged penis hard through its nylon covering.

"No, darling. I have told you before, you may not touch yourself without Mistress' permission. Mistress is going to think up a punishment for you. Panty-slaves know that their Mistress' pleasure always comes first. Not sometimes. Always. Do you understand, sweetness?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"That's just wonderful, darling! I just KNOW we're going to get along so well together. Mind you, we have lots more to learn in our feminine appreciation course, don't we?"

"Yes, Mistress." I didn't know what she meant but I did know what to do when she instructed me to take off her panties (which were damp and smelled so nice) and when then she sat down in my armchair. I knelt and stroked the outside of her legs softly as I licked and kissed my way on a course up the inside of her legs, along her soft thighs to her. I buried myself in her, licking, kissing, suckling. Her breathing quickened, I found it harder to breathe. When she arched, I increased my devotion to her. And she came. I suckled her softly, enjoying her sweet juices.

The problem with all this was that my cock was as hard as it could be. Mistress excited me no end, but I knew I could not take more of this. "Frustration CAN overpower desire," I thought to myself, and wondered how to tell Mistress that I did not need any more teasing, that I needed relief right away. Even Federal Express ('When it absolutely, positively, has to be there overnight') would be too slow to take care of my need.

Suddenly, and with surprising strength she pushed me back. I lay on the floor, on my side and breathing heavily. "On your back, hands at your sides," she said, sharply. And then she both astonished and delighted me as she took off her bra, lay down next to me, fed me a nipple and said, "Nurse."

She stroked me through my panties. I was bound to her for eternity. And I exploded.

"Ewyoo, yuck," Mistress said.

But she continued to cradle me in her breasts as gradually I came back to earth and my breathing subsided. She ran her fingers through my hair and rocked me. I was at peace with the world. I whispered, "You are so good to me, Mistress."

"You won't forget your panties in future, will you darling?"

"No, Mistress."

She had me pick another pair of panties from Margo's drawer. This time I remembered Mistress' preference for color coordination and chose a pair of nylon briefs with pretty lace inserts -- all white, the color of my other intimate wear. I went to the bathroom to clean myself up.

When I came out again, Mistress had dressed and was touching up her lipstick. She looked as fresh as when I'd opened the front door.

-=o=-

13. Chapter

"Darling," Kim said, "Do you know when MRS. Greer's period is?" I thought to myself, "What kind of question is that? In fact, what right does she..." I didn't know. "No, Mistress, not exactly."

"Sweetness, one thing every slave must know -- this is not just panty-slaves, but all slaves -- is when Mistress has her period. Otherwise, how will a slave know to properly care for her Mistress?"

She was standing there in her little girl clothes, this innocent aura about her but at the same time asking me, dressed in my feminine frillies, the damndest (if rhetorical) question.

"I... I don't understand..."

"Do you have a calendar in your den?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Tina, dear, what I want you to do when MRS. Greer gets back is ask her about her period. You must mark her cycle on your calendar so you don't forget. And you will ask her how she feels at each point in the cycle and you will write that down. And you will study your notes every day until they are second nature to you. Do you have any question about this, sweetness?"

"No, Mistress."

"Why, that's just wonderful!" she said, in her delightful little-girl voice. And through its nylon casing she began to pet my rather limp but happy penis.

"Do you understand why you are going to do this?"

"I think so, Mistress. If I know her cycle and work on anticipating how she feels at different times -- and if I'm not sure I would ask her -- then I would be able to care for her better. And that would help make me a better husband."

"Better panty-slave, sweetness."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Another thing. Bring me that men's magazine on the bedside table."

"Yes, Mistress." As I minced over to the table, Mistress returned to my armchair and sat down. I brought the magazine to her. I felt uneasy standing in front of her as she began to flip through it and I moved to the side of the chair and knelt next to her, so I could see what she was looking at.

She opened the foldout in the middle. "Pet-of-the-month," she mused.

"Darling, you wouldn't call Mistress a pet, would you?"

"No, Mistress."

"And do you know why?"

"I'm not sure what you..."

"Because, sweetness, pets are to be toyed with. That makes YOU the pet." She giggled and kissed me on the cheek. "A Mistress is to be worshiped. Repeat that, sweetness."

"A pet is to be toyed with, a Mistress is to be worshiped."

"Very good. Now, why do you look at this picture?"

"Mistress, it's Penthouse that chose her, there are lots of interesting articles...

"Cut the crap, dear. Oh my, that wasn't very ladylike, was it? I must be spending too much time with Linda." She smiled. "What is it that attracts you about this picture?"

"I, ah... well, she is a very attractive woman, and the riding outfit hanging on the wall there looks very smart. And the handle of the riding crop she is holding has some very intricate weaving..."

Mistress looked at me impatiently.

"OK, her gorgeous breasts, the swell of her hips and just below her pubic hair, that is, if she moved a little so the photographer had another angle, I could imagine..." I stopped. Mistress had slammed the magazine shut and tossed it over her shoulder.

"Tina, dear, a 'tits and ass' focus is simply an immature male attitude that no longer fits your position. It will have to change. In fact, as your feminine appreciation course continues, it WILL change. And Mistress will help you with that.

"Anyway, do you realize that a properly submissive panty-slave, attentive to ALL her Mistress' needs, all of the time, will have all the tits and ass she will ever need without leaving her house and without buying any of these tasteless magazines?"

I was dumbfounded. Again, Mistress kissed me on the cheek. "Get my handbag, sweetness."

I moved over to the other side of the chair, picked up her handbag and gave it to her. She pulled out a catalog and a magazine. The catalog said Victoria's Secret on it. "Have a look at this," Mistress said.

I flipped through the catalog which showed page after page of beautiful women.

"Do you notice anything, dear?"

I had no idea what she meant.

"They all have their clothes on!" she said, delightedly. "Let me show you something else." She took the catalog and leafed through it until she came to a page, then she folded the catalog and gave it back to me. "Look at this picture, study it carefully and tell me what you see."

The picture was of a brunette, maybe late 30's -- about my age -- wearing, I read, a cashmere-soft cotton knit oversized tunic and a comfortable looking, loose fitting pair of cotton pants. She was sitting on a marble step and looking at me. I could see her eyes were

made up, certainly her lipstick was perfectly applied. Her lips were relaxed, perhaps the hint of a smile but nothing more. Her facial features, (bone structure, I guess) appeared to be average, pleasant. Her short, straight brown hair came down to just below her ears, and those eyes, those eyes were looking right at me. Somehow I sensed power, just from the picture.

"Mistress, there is something alluring about her, but I can't tell what it is."

"Dear, tell me about her figure."

Well, I couldn't. "Mistress, her clothes are too loose to see what her figure would be like."

"But you think she is attractive?"

"Oh yes, very." "And if I told you that she was a friend of Mistress and that she expected you to serve her as you serve me, can you see yourself being properly submissive and attentive to all her needs?"

"Yes, Mistress. I think so... Who is she?"

"I have no idea. She's a model for Victoria's Secret." She giggled and again kissed me on the cheek. "Dear, the point I am making is that you do not need to see a woman without her clothes on to be interested in her, or even to be excited by her. The self-confidence, the assertiveness that this woman projects in the picture would cause most people to agree she could probably have any man she wanted. Don't you think?"

"Yes, Mistress. She definitely has my attention."

"Look at something else," Mistress said. She raised the other publication from her lap and I could see it was a copy of the March issue of Vogue and I recognized the picture of the model on the cover; it was Claudia Schiffer. "Look at the table of contents."

There was a teaser with a picture of a woman wearing a dress. The copy said: 'Softness and light' and showed the model embracing 'the new femininity in an ankle-grazing chiffon dress by Ralph Lauren. Page 339.'

"What do you think of the dress, dear?"

I had to admit it looked lovely. Then Mistress made me leaf through all the pages (which was no small job because there were more than 450 of them) and I found pictures of dozens of attractive models, in attractive clothes or makeup or lingerie, and on page 402 I found an interesting article titled 'What's cooking in cyberspace?' I began to realize there was some good material in this magazine.

"Sweetness, how much does a copy of Penthouse cost?"

"Umm... $6.95 I think."

"And what about this Vogue?"

I looked on the front cover. "$3.00."

"And what about the Victoria's Secret catalog, how much do you think that cost?"

"Nothing?" "You are so clever, darling! Now, which is the better value, men's mags magazines? And sweetness, think very, very carefully before you answer this question or Mistress will have to think up a perfectly portentous panty-slave punishment for you."

I wasn't sure what 'portentous' meant, but I wasn't about to find out.

"Women's magazines, Mistress?"

"Very good, dear! And, besides being a better value, you can begin to learn about makeup tips, trends in dress styles and you will begin to be able to share an interest in and talk about fashion with Mistress. Isn't that wonderful?"

I had never thought of it that way. "Yes, Mistress."

"And, sweetness?"

"Yes, Mistress?"

"I want you to do some research for Mistress. Find a copy of the June, 1994 Cosmopolitan magazine and read 'Men Who Want Women to Dominate Them.' It should be required reading for all men like you. It will tell you how some men want to be ravished, and how some women want to be in control. It will help you understand a new dimension in female-male relationships. I want a full report."

"But... but that would be nine months old. How... how would I find a copy?"

"Sweetness, I know you'll find a way. Do you know why?"

"Why, Mistress?"

"Because Mistress does not tolerate failure!" Giggle. " She knows her panty-slave will do everything she is told. You have 48 hours, sweetness."I looked at her adoringly. I didn't know how I would find the magazine but I knew I would somehow. If Mistress wanted me to do this research project, she must have a good reason for it. She did know what was best for me. Didn't she?

Mistress looked very pleased with me; she stood up and took my hand to help me as I got to my feet also. She fondled my pretty panties, back, sides and front. She continued fondling the front; in no time my cock once again filled my panties.

"Sweetness," she said, "do you keep a collection of your men's magazines?"

"They're hidden in the garage, Mistress. Would you like to see them?" She lay her head against my shoulder, put one hand behind me and fondled my silky buns. And with her other hand she kept petting me.

"No, darling. You must throw all of them out."

I gritted my teeth. I didn't know whether to feel angry or crestfallen. But I had no doubts for long; the considerably more powerful emotion I felt was directly related to the attention Mistress was giving me.

"Yes, Mistress," I gasped. And she continued to pet me and tell me what a good panty-slave I was and I continued to get more excited and I knew I would do anything for her, even throw out my magazines.

-=o=-

14. Chapter

The doorbell rang. Mistress stopped. To say I was flabbergasted, frustrated and disoriented would be an understatement. At the same time, I was frightened. Margo was out of town. Nobody was due to stop by. Maybe Linda would see who it was.

The doorbell rang again.

"Mistress, please get the door," I said as I fumbled with the catch on my bra. I couldn't let anyone see me like this.

"No, darling, a panty-slave does not tell her Mistress to do anything. It's probably Kathleen. I told you company was coming, didn't I? She will help with your feminine appreciation training. And she needs to see you dressed just as you are. Put your bra back on." She smiled.

I didn't know anyone by the name of Kathleen.

"Please Mistress, I can't go to the door dressed like this. I don't even know the person!" My lower lip quivered; I was genuinely frightened. I felt close to tears.

Mistress understood. "Sweetness, why don't you put on your bathrobe? That will make you feel better, don't you think?"

I held onto that thought for all I was worth. I had to cover myself somehow. That the whole situation was patently ridiculous did not occur to me. I minced to the closet, took out my bathrobe and put it on. As Mistress tied my sash for me, she created a large bow. I hardly noticed.

"Come, sweetness, let's answer the door." And she held my arm as we left my room, down the hall, through the living room and the foyer to the front door.

"Go ahead, sweetness. There's nothing to be frightened of. Mistress is right here with you." She stood on her toes and kissed me on the cheek. That made me feel better.

"Now or never," I thought. And it would have been never except that Mistress was right next to me and I knew she would never forgive me if I did not trust her when she had told me there was nothing to be frightened of. So, I opened the door.

Kathleen was a very tall woman, about 6' 1" I guessed, with light brown hair. The gaze out of her steel-grey eyes, the way she held her head, the slight jaunty pout of her lip, her erect posture, and every other bit of her body clearly emphasized a confident and assertive look. She wore a grey business suit, white blouse, nylons covering a pair of good-looking legs, and pumps, maybe a 2" heel. A white chiffon scarf around her neck completed what I could see. What appeared to be sample cases were on either side of her, each one about the size of a small suitcase.

She smiled pleasantly. "You must be Mr. Greer."

"Good morning, glad to meet you," I said with some uncertainty as I held out my hand. She shook it with a firm grasp. Then she picked up her cases and walked into my house.

She put down the cases. "Kimmie, you look so lovely today! Where DID you get that pretty dress?" The two women gave each other a hug. It was clear to me they were more than casually acquainted with each other. Mistress turned to me and said, "Darling, let me formally introduce you. Kathleen is regional sales manager for the E-von Cosmetics Corporation, you know, 'the E-von Lady?' It's a requirement for my college marketing courses that I work part-time with someone already in business. Kathleen has been sharing how ECC really works from the marketing angle, and I've come up with this marvelous idea that I know you can help us with. Isn't that wonderful?"

I had no idea what Mistress was talking about. But there was something about this female's apparent professionalism that captured my attention. I felt some level of higher awareness. I liked her instantly.

"I really am glad to meet you, Kathleen. Would you care for a cup of coffee?" "I like your heels," she said, matter-of-factly. "Kimmie, he's just precious -- he's everything you said." She and Mistress both laughed. I blushed. It dawned on me that, once again, Mistress had set me up. Thinking back, was there any time since I'd met her that she hadn't delighted in pushing me to my limits? So this is how it was going to be. Kathleen already knew who I was and she had no intention of beating around the bush.

"Darling, why don't you take off your robe? You're not wearing anything that Kathleen hasn't seen before," she giggled.

I hesitated.

"Sweetness, you wouldn't want Mistress to punish you in front of our new guest, now would you?"

Whatever it was that she had in mind, I knew I didn't want it. "No, Mistress." I removed my terrycloth robe. Kathleen looked me up and down with a practiced eye. She walked around me, grazing her hand across my nylon-covered ass, which I did not think was by accident. "He is such a pet." She stopped in front of me and seemed to be taking a critical look at my head. "Turn your face to the side, precious."

I turned.

Kathleen looked at my face critically. She commented on my deep-set eyes and other facial features. As she brushed her fingers over my face, I became excited. She carefully explained to Mistress how a touch here and a touch there of just the right kind of makeup would soften my masculine features and highlight the feminine. At the time, she might as well been speaking in Swahili. I didn't understand a word she said. I had so much to learn!

"And I think it would help if he shaved again, she said.

"You heard Kathleen, sweetness. Go shave."

"But Mistress, I already shaved this morning." Mistress put her foot down. Literally. The heel of her left Mary Jane was on my right big toe, exposed as it was through the straps of my sandals. I didn't think Mistress would actually jump on my toe but I wasn't positive about that.

"I know, darling. But you'd like to shave again, wouldn't you?" she chirped.

"Yes, Mistress." She was just as sweet and provocative as any combination of innocent little girl and predatory female could possibly be. That she was both of these at the same time made no sense. But she was.

With the attention Mistress was giving me on top of the "inspection" I had received from Kathleen, once again my cock was hard.

Mistress noticed this and began to fondle my erection through my panties.

"Process control," Mistress said to Kathleen. "Process control will be key to maximizing incremental sales."

Mistress made no sense. Kathleen, however, appeared to be very interested in Mistress' process control activities with my penis. And, to get an even closer look, she knelt down beside Mistress, put her arm around Mistress' waist (to steady herself, I guess) and looked closely at my throbbing rod and the process control Mistress was using with me. I flushed with embarrassment and pleasure.

It appeared to me that Kathleen and Mistress were both looking a little flushed themselves. "They must both be excited because I am almost at the edge, because I'm... I'm..."

My pretty panties, already stained with pre-come, rapidly filled with my ejaculate.

Mistress' touch became lighter and slower. She looked as if she might be thinking 'ewyoo yuck', but she said nothing and instead gave me a kiss on the forehead and guided my head to rest on her shoulder.

"Mistress, you are so good to me," said I.

"That's my Tina," said Mistress.

"That's very interesting," said Kathleen.

Kathleen, still on her knees, ran her fingers over the spreading stain in my panties, and she tasted it. Then, it was if she owned me! Boldly she reached into my panties and scooped through my come with her fingers. Then she stuck her fingers in her mouth and sucked on them like a popsicle! "Not bad at all, Kimmie." Mistress said nothing but with her free hand she began to stroke Kathleen's hair. "Sweetness, time to change your panties and clean up. That includes shaving."

"Yes, Mistress." I minced off to my bedroom leaving the two women in the living room, Mistress still standing and Kathleen still kneeling, her mouth at, oh about the level of the hemline of Mistress' short pretty dress, and her arm still around Mistress' waist so she wouldn't lose her balance.

I picked another pair of white nylon briefs from my wife's drawer and resolved to do the wash sometime soon. With the clothing Margo had taken when she had gone to see her sister, her supply of fresh panties was becoming rapidly depleted. I headed for the bathroom.

-=o=-

15. Chapter

I came out of the bathroom all freshly shaved and cleaned up and feeling pretty good. Mistress and Kathleen were sitting together on the bench at my wife's vanity table. Kathleen was removing her lipstick which somehow appeared to have got smudged. It looked like Mistress had just finished applying fresh lipstick to her lips, but she often did that.

"... from the marketing perspective, at any rate. Hello, sweetness. Are we feeling all silky and comfy in our pretty panties?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Kathleen, look at the ruffles on the edges of Tina's soft nylon panties. They look so feminine, don't you think?"

Kathleen agreed with her. She thought I was 'just so precious' and observed that perhaps I should be kept in nylon tennis panties, the ones with rows and rows of pretty ruffles.

Mistress said she would add them to my shopping list and then, "Come here, sweetness. I can see that you're a little plump, but you know that Mistress likes to see you all hard for her. And particularly now that we have company." She began to pet me once again. I began to try to help her. "No, darling. Mistress has told you before. You must not touch yourself without Mistress' permission."

I was standing right behind the bench in my bra, panties, garter belt, nylons and heels. Mistress and Kathleen had both been seated facing the mirrors but now, as they looked at me, they were turned towards each other with Mistress petting me and Kathleen with an amused look on her face. Kathleen had her jacket off. As Mistress continued her pets I noticed she kept moving slowly back and forth so that her breasts kept grazing Kathleen's breasts. Mistress' breasts jutted out from her short and sweet little-girl dress and Kathleen's breasts were encased in a very seductive-looking bra beneath her semi-transparent silk-like blouse. Kathleen seemed to be enjoying something but I couldn't tell what it was. Also, I thought perhaps Mistress had an itch somewhere on her chest but, if so, I didn't understand why she didn't scratch it.

"You see, Kathleen," Mistress said, "the corporate competition has been wasting its time by fighting over market share. Because they don't understand that the market really is much bigger. And when the sales strategies are in place for ECC to attack the male market effectively, to start with there will be no-one else out there. Before the competition knows what hit them we'll dominate the market. Now there's a word for you. Dominate. I like the sound of that. Dominate."

"So do I," Kathleen said. "In fact, I think I'll ask corporate marketing to work up a campaign on a new line for women of cosmetics and fragrances. We'll call it Dominant." It looked like she had an itch also. Both of them were sort of gyrating and they must not have known what they were doing because their breasts kept touching.

Mistress must have sensed that I was about to lose control because she stopped petting me. I groaned in agony; she was doing it again!"Sit down on the bench, darling and we'll take care of your real needs," Mistress said softly.

Well, I knew what my real needs were and, happily, I complied as Mistress and Kathleen got up. I was now seated facing the mirrors and could see how I was dressed and I waited for Mistress to continue with my pets. She and Kathleen, however, continued discussing business.

"The thing is," said Kathleen, "the baseline female market is worth billions and we can't ignore our primary source of income. I still have a concern that some women may be turned off by our expanded focus. The men, that is. We absolutely can't afford to lose the women."

"I understand the significance," said Mistress. "Linda and I were talking about it last night. The key is to make it obvious to the women that, with E-von, every woman's life will be so much better than it has ever been before. Linda said she was working on an idea and would flesh it out with our 'lab rat' here later today."

The two beautiful women were close, on either side of me, but my needs were being ignored. I couldn't stand it any more and I began to play with myself.

"Kathleen, dear, would you lend me your scarf?" said Mistress.

Kathleen took the wisp of chiffon from around her neck and gave it to Mistress. "TAKE YOUR HANDS AWAY!" Mistress commanded sharply. I had heard that tone of voice before, but I still I was startled. My hands snapped to my sides and it was like I was sitting to attention.

Mistress grabbed my wrists and tied them behind me with the scarf. Then she continued fussing but I couldn't see exactly what she was doing. "There, isn't that fluffy bow simply delightful and feminine?" she laughed."It looks very pretty," Kathleen said. "And so does precious. And so do you." And then my mouth dropped open; I was astonished. Kathleen stepped forward and took Mistress in her arms and kissed her! I could see it in the mirror.

At least I hoped Mistress would have the good sense not to continue whatever it was that this older female was trying to get going. Obviously, it was not appropriate. Just because I wanted to it myself, Mistress looking so young and innocent and all, was no reason for Kathleen... After all, she was a woman too...

"Oh look, Kimmie, our little pet is embarrassed."

"Sweetness, did Mistress forget about your attention?" And she came around the bench, positioned one of her legs between mine to get very close and resumed petting my hardness. Then she stepped back and leaned over and kissed my penis through its nylon covering. I looked down. There was a red imprint of Mistress' lips over the soft white nylon right where the head of my cock was struggling to burst through my panties.

I looked up. Mistress and Kathleen both laughed. I felt humiliated, and trapped between these two gorgeous females who, I thought, had probably planned all of this out. But nobody had told me what the plan actually was."Darling, a proper lady does not sit with her legs apart, does she?"

"No, Mistress." I brought my legs together, but then I began to rub my stockings together very slightly to enjoy the feminine feeling of nylon rubbing against nylon and hoping Mistress would not notice and put a stop to it.

"You see, Kathleen, Tina loves her feminine unmentionables and she will buy lots of product from E-von. Why don't we show her some of them?"

Kathleen smiled at Mistress and left the room. Mistress and I were alone. She sat down next to me and ran her fingers through my hair, gave me a light kiss on my cheek and smiled. Then she began to pet me a little more. "Awww, poor baby," she whispered in my ear. I loved the attention. Mistress was so good to me and I felt ashamed that she had been cross with me only a few minutes earlier.

Kathleen came back into the room with her two sample cases and Mistress gave me another light kiss on the cheek. "Don't go anywhere," she giggled. And she got up to join Kathleen at my bed as one of the sample cases was being opened. I couldn't see what they were looking at.

"Kimmie, what do you think of this?" Kathleen said. And Mistress whispered something in her ear. Then they were whispering to each other and I couldn't hear any of it, but every so often one of them laughed. They returned to the vanity table with their arms full of small boxes and bottles, each labeled with the ECC logo and with E-von Cosmetics Corporation printed at the base.

"I think I'd like to dry-run the approach on prospective new clients next week," said Kathleen. I know just the two distributors I want with us on this. If Linda's going to help, I wonder if all five of us could 'drop everything' and make a day of it tomorrow, go through a full dress rehearsal and iron out any kinks."

"What kinks?" I said. "What are you talking about?"

"Shush, sweetness." Then, "I don't see why not. Why don't I go have a word with Linda? I don't know what her plans are for tomorrow."Mistress was going to leave me? In my state? "Please, Mistress," I begged. "I need you so much, I need... you promised to take care of my real need."

"Of course, darling. You shall be taken care of. Kathleen will take care of you, won't you Kathleen?"

And with that, Mistress gave me another kiss on the cheek and left. I was alone with this strange woman I had not even known two hours earlier, hands tied behind my back and really concerned that this time I had done it. I wondered what I had got myself into. I felt confusion, but more than that I felt fear.

Kathleen looked at me and said, "Precious, that is a most unladylike bulge in your panties. It is the mission of the E-von Cosmetics Corporation to make every woman feel and look her best. I can see that a good deal more work needs to be done in your case."

I did not know what to say. But I guess I didn't have to say anything. Part of what happened seemed like a replay of my first day with Mistress Kimberly. At least the part where Kathleen took off her skirt, half-slip and blouse and then sat down beside me.

"You do want to look and feel like a beautiful woman, don't you pet?"

"Yes, Kathleen." I was pretty sure any other answer would be the wrong answer.

"And so you shall be. You are so precious." She slowly squeezed my cock harder and harder. The temporary relief felt so wonderful. Then she stood up and rummaged through the many containers of cosmetics and whatever it was, lazily swaying her ass, dressed in the sheerest of nylon with delicate lace at the leg openings, mere inches from my nose.

I have always had an acute sense of smell. Although I couldn't see where her panties disappeared between those inviting legs, because she was not directly in front of me but rather slightly to the side, the woman was wet. I could smell it. And although I had no idea what would happen next, I didn't care. My arousal grew.

She turned around with a tube of lipstick in her hand. From the time I had come out of the bathroom she hadn't been wearing any. Well, there were traces of lipstick on her all right, but they belonged to Mistress. Kathleen leaned against the vanity table (now I could see that she WAS wet), smiled at me and said, "Pet, you have a lot to learn. You will be taught, of course, and we won't get it all done at once. But I think we will get a good start on it today."

Whether it was how she said it, or the movement of her body, I don't know. But all at once I felt completely safe. It didn't matter that I hardly knew the woman. As it had been with Mistress, I knew I would do anything for this woman.

In later years I would remember the moment fondly because that was when I began to realize for the first time that what I was finding intensely, irresistibly pleasurable had nothing to do with any stimulation of my penis. And maybe, just maybe, it was not even related to the anticipated future stimulation of my penis.

It was this wave of pure adoration for Kathleen that was washing over me. It was the same feeling that I experienced almost all the time with Mistress and, in a different way, with Linda. But I had taken it for granted almost with Mistress; that was just the way it was between us.And this time, there it was, that feeling again. And Kathleen had not allowed me to service her nor had she given any indication that she would bring me to orgasm. So I was aroused and frustrated. But because of this wave, paradoxically, it hardly mattered.

It is so hard to explain. I guess the best clinical description is that I was in a trance, some self-induced hypnotic state. I am no medical or psychiatric professional, but that's how it felt to me. I was aware of what was going on, but at the same time I was in this dream, this world of total submission to the woman before me. She had turned to the mirror and was painting her lips with the new tube of lipstick. She was applying it thickly and carefully.

I recalled words I had read in a letter to Penthouse where the writer had referred to sub space. At the time I thought the reference was to the Ionosphere or the Stratosphere because I noticed there was an article about NASA on the facing page and figured the editors had mixed the text up, which was why the letter didn't make any sense at all. Besides, when I read it I knew those letters were all made up anyway. But now I thought I was in it. Sub space had taken on a completely new meaning.

Finally I knew, or had begun to understand at least, what sub space was. Finally I could put a label on it and understand some of what was behind my overpowering feeling of immersion, of one-ness with the bodies and minds of the wonderful women who had come into my life over those few days. Not the transitory feeling of one-ness that I felt almost always with my wife as I approached and experienced orgasm. This immersion went on. And on. And on. And it was there, absolutely, without my orgasm driving it.

And these women had shown it to me. Me, the manly, 'father-knows-best' type for all of my life. All that time I had no idea that, when one came down to it, the facts were that 'mother knows best.'

Kathleen finished applying her lipstick and she turned to kiss me. I was filled with joy. She kissed me lightly on my lips; the thick lipstick smeared a little and I knew my lips were very red.

Then she showed me to myself in the mirror. My lips showed a distinct blush, but no red outline. Then she brought the tube to my mouth and chills went through my body. While I watched in the mirror she carefully outlined my lips and then painted.

I was in sub space, there was no question in my mind. I don't remember everything she did except that after talking to me in her sexy voice for a time, she removed my excess lipstick and worked with foundation and coloring to reduce the prominence of my chin and to highlight my cheekbones. She made up my eyes and repainted my lips and dabbed a touch of perfume behind each of my ears and on my wrists and behind my knees and on my panties where my hard-on was straining to get out right where Mistress had kissed the soft, feminine nylon. "You are so precious," she said.

I don't know if she worked with me for an hour, for two hours. But eventually the session was over, and I came back slightly to some level of reality as Mistress walked in the door.

"Kathleen, you have simply outdone yourself," said Mistress. "Sweetness, you look so good I could eat you!"

"Anytime," the male in me thought. But I did feel good, far more than good. I was so grateful to all of the women for showing me the real me, who I was, the me I needed to be in order to be totally happy.

Sweetness, I have started to prepare lunch for us. It will be served on the patio. You will finish the meal preparation and you will serve, sweetness."

Now THAT brought me down to earth real fast. Outside, dressed as I was? Mistress was pushing me to the edge again. She was so innocent and sweet and matter-of-fact about it though.

I looked in the mirror. I didn't even have a wig! "Mistress, please... may I please put on my bathrobe?"

"Why, of course, darling. A woman must always consider her modesty and since we haven't found just the right dress for you yet, that would be entirely appropriate."

She untied my hands. I put on my bathrobe and headed for the kitchen. As I left, I heard her say, "Kathleen, would you unbutton my dress for me," said Mistress as I was leaving. "It seems so hot in here."

-=o=-

16. Chapter

I minced into the kitchen in my heels. Linda was there waiting for me."Kimmie told me you were going to make lunch for us. About time you showed up," she said. And she pulled the cord off my bathrobe being none to gentle about it and my robe parted showing the pretty things I was wearing.

"Just don't see what Kimmie sees in this stuff," she said. She yanked the front of my panties down below my balls and fondled my cock with a few expert strokes. I responded all right. "And stay that way," she warned. Linda decided I would make a light lunch for all of them and had me prepare a veggie tray including sliced celery stalks, carrot sticks, and cucumber sandwiches.

Lunch was served on the patio as Mistress had intended. Even though we were outside, in no time I felt comfortable and natural in my frillies.

Mistress had replaced my bathrobe with a gown made of a nylon transparent overlay that Kathleen had produced. It too was open at the front.

Mistress consigned my bathrobe to the garbage can.

Mistress' solicitous cock-petting and Linda's rougher handling of my organ pretty much set the tone for lunch. Every time my cock was anything less than rock-hard Kathleen delighted in making a big deal of it and then it was a contest between Mistress and Linda to see who could take me in hand the fastest and return me to my earlier state. I don't remember all the business details they were talking about but it was agreed between the women that the 'full-dress' strategic plan for exploitation of the 'new market' would take place the next day starting at 10 a.m. at my house.

After lunch, Mistress and Kathleen returned to my bedroom and Linda went back to her painting. I was left to wash and put away the dishes, and to clean up generally.

After my kitchen duty, I reported to Linda as ordered. Once again, she made me strip, and I was secured to the board to watch her paint. The project, at least was coming along nicely, and she was already beginning to move stuff out. I guessed correctly that my scaffold was the last to go. Time passed swiftly that afternoon.

It could have been one hour, two hours or a half hour when Kim and Kathleen walked into the room where Linda had me bound. Kathleen was in her bra and slip. Kim was wearing one of Margo's nightgowns. Kim was uncharacteristicly disheveled. Her hair was in disarry and her

makeup was smudged. She had a glazed look in her eyes, and it seemed that she not only didn't care about her appearance, she didn't seem to care about anything. I'd swear that she was on some kind of drug, but she didn't seem the type to do that.

The women were holding hands and giggling. Kathleen took Kim's face in both her hands, turned it towards her and gave her a final, long, deep kiss.

"What do we have here?" Kathleen asked, looking at me tied up on the board.

"Oh," Linda responded, "This is where I keep him when I have nothing better to do with him."

Kathleen taunted her, "And just what do you do with him when you do have something better to do with him?"

"Well, we play. Hey! How would you and Kim like to help me in an experiment?"The two women looked at each other and said almost in stereo, "Sure!"

"What do we have to do?" asked Kathleen.

"Well, one of the things I get as a professional painter is free samples of painting products. I got these from a hardware chain." Linda tossed several small paint brushes on the table. "The salesman wants me to use them and tell me which one I like the best."

Linda unwrapped one of the brushes. It had a head about 1 inch across. "These are nylon brushes," she added, "The same material Kim likes on her legs. The bristles are very soft and silky. Don't you think so?" She said, brushing it lightly against my face. She was right.

She unwrapped two more and showed them to Kim and Kathleen. "These are a different type of nylon, and as you can see, the bristles are different thicknesses and the points are chiseled differently."

"One of the problems a painter has," LInda continued, "is painting in small places, and painting small (here she giggled) objects. I have to evaluate my tools to see how well they will work. Suppose I had to paint a spindle holding up a banister or some other cylindrical object

..."

She jerked her thumb in my direction. "Which do you think works better," Linda asked, "taking turns 'painting' Tom's penis, or if we all do it at once."

"All at once!" Kathleen responded, grabbing one of the brushes. Kim followed suit. I never felt a sensation like it before in my life. It was like my penis was being licked by a thousand tiny hairs, every one of them matching up with a nerve ending on the head of my penis. It didn't take long for me to drip precome, and it took even less time for the women to use it to paint my penis into a glistening sheen. The soft silkiness of the bristles wielded under gentle, deliberate female hands was the slowest torture I could imagine. The stimulation was enough to start the sequence of events that would normally lead to ejaculation. Unfortunately for me, but to the great delight of the women, it was not enough to complete the act. The result was that I was caught on the verge of orgasm in an extended state of anticipation.

With Linda sitting on my legs, I couldn't provide any movement of my own. I gritted my teeth and tensed every muscle in my body trying to get as much blood into my penis and increase its sensitivity enough to make it discharge. It wasn't successful, and the women laughed at my thrashing and gnashing.

"Ooh," Kathleen observed, "I've never done this with a man before. I bet he'll do anything for us now." She was right.

"We'll get enough of that tomorrow," quipped Linda. "We got to get him off and stable so I can train him for the show tomorrow."

The other two women continued to paint up and down the length of my shaft. Linda slapped my penis from side to side vigorously with her brush. That did it! I errupted in a fountain of come to the sucking of air on the part of Kathleen, and a surprisingly gigglish "ewyoo yuck" from Kim. Had she accepted my come? Man was I falling for this girl!

The women were already getting up as I came down from my orgasmic high.

"Well, if you two are done with him," Linda said, "I have some training I want to get done with him."

Kim and Kathleen just laughed, "Use him all you want. I'm sure Kim and I will find a way to keep busy."

Kim and Kathleen went back to the bedroom apparently to get dressed.

Linda untied me and took me to the family room where the following day's meeting was to be held. She wanted me to help her set up the room, and learn some additional things from her for the show I was to put on.

"Get in here, my pud-pounding pet!" Linda ordered me into the family room.

"Look, we got company coming tomorrow. That means a couple of things.

One, you have to clean this place up; it's a pigsty. I guess that's appropriate for you. But mom doesn't live here anymore. From now on, you'll be responsible for cleaning up around here."

"Two, you are going to have to learn to be a good host or hostess, depending on Kim's whims. I'm sure she has you well trained in the service part of hosting, I'm going to teach you how to entertain properly."

Linda kept me busy that afternoon. Since she was just about finished with the painting, she had me pack up and clean her supplies as she humped them out to her truck. She didn't want to let me get dressed yet, and even she didn't want my neighbors calling the police.

There was still a lot of cleaning up after her work was done, but she said, "Leave it for now. You can clean it up after I leave. It will be good practice for you."

Linda was more interested in preparing me for the following day's show. She put me through a lot of paces, and although I could figure out some of what she planned to do with me from what she had me do in this practice session, I still didn't have any idea what the show was going to be about. There were some things she made me do that I simply had no idea of how she would use them!

The three women left me sometime later Friday evening. No-one even asked me if I wanted them to come back the next day. It was understood that I would always do what I was told.

I wanted so much to lay down and relax. Then I remembered my tasks! Particularly the one for Kim. I still hadn't researched the Cosmopolitan article. My 48 hours were running out. I took a quick shower and put on some male clothing. I actually felt uncomfortable putting on my boxer shorts. I felt a sense of loss not having the silkiness of feminine garments next to my skin. I hopped into my car and sped off to the library.

I got there several minutes before closing. Although I frequented this branch often, I didn't know where the periodicals were kept, and certainly didn't know where the back issues were hidden. I swallowed my pride and asked the librarian for assistance. "I need to research a back issue of a periodical," I told her.

"Sure, we can help you. I'll get my assistant." She turned and said to the young blond sitting at one of the terminals behind me, "Lisa!"I turned around to look a Lisa. She was the same Lisa who lived down the block from me and was a high school student pushing 16. Wonderful! She looked up from her terminal, smiled at me and said, "Hi, Mr. Greer! What are you looking for? I'll get it for you."

I was trapped. I knew I didn't have time to browse the stacks. "The June 1994 Cosmopolitan," I whispered as lightly as I dared. Lisa lifted an eyebrow, but otherwise had no reaction.

"You're in luck," she said, "We still carry the original issue. Anything older than two years might be on microfiche. Wait here."

I felt the heat rising in my body, a knot in my stomach, the flush in my face, and the sweat trickling down my back. I was sure that the three other patrons knew exactly why I was there.

Lisa returned in a matter of minutes, but it seemed like hours to me. She carried the green-covered magazine in her hand looking at the cover titles intently, including the one that read, "Men who want Women to Dominate Them."

If she had any doubts about which of the cover topics I was interested in, they vanished when I stated plugging coins into the copier to reproduce the four-page article. I finished my task and returned the magazine to her. As I walked out I could see her and the librarian whispering, looking my way, and doing their best to stifle their giggles.

I knew they'd remember my "unusual" request every time I came back.

I drove home and spent an exhausting couple of hours cleaning as the women had ordered. I grabbed a final cup of tea, and studied the article.

By the time I dragged myself to bed, I was so tired I hardly appreciated the soft pink nightie and matching panties that Mistress had left on my bed for me. I barely slid the delightful fabric over my body when I lost consciousness.

-=o=-

17. Chapter

In my dream the doorbell rang. As I woke up it was still ringing. Bleary-eyed I fumbled for my alarm clock. It said 10:01. I bolted out of bed, wearing my soft pink nylon waltz length nightie and matching briefs, and headed for the front door in a panic.

Many events of that mid-summer Saturday are crystal clear and others are hazy. I guess my jumbled memory of some of the morning was due to my exhaustion with the previous day's activities.

I was astonished to find five women at the door. Quickly I hid behind it. I was embarrassed to be seen by women I did not know. As she always did, Linda pushed the door open and walked in like she owned my home, this time along with Mistress, Kathleen and two females who I did not know but who appeared to be a little older than Linda or Mistress. Perhaps they were in their mid 20s.

Whether they giggled at me or took me at face value without batting an eye, I can't recall. But I do remember Mistress kissing me on the cheek and introducing me to Akasha and Marin. And although I couldn't put my finger on exactly why I thought so, I somehow I "knew" they took it for granted that in male-female relationships they controlled. I grasped the edges of my skirted gown and curtsied, of course.

They all laughed, but by now I was used to that and also by now I felt a closeness to them that seemed commonplace. I felt like 'one of the girls,' even with the new arrivals who, I couldn't help notice, had VERY attractive legs. They were both wearing cutoffs, as was Linda. Mistress and Kathleen were wearing slacks and high heels, with very feminine blouses that were semi-transparent and allowed my thoughts to wander.

It struck me that I was the only one wearing a gown. There was a harem in the room, all right, and it was me.

Mistress Kimmie explained that the five of them had just come from a power breakfast and had been fleshing out their new fast-track approach to increasing E-von Cosmetics Corporation's sales by quantum leaps. Also she reminded me that I had a role, a major contribution, to make.

She apologized to the other women for my not being presentable and for not having tea and such available for them and, as they sat down and began chatting in my living room, Mistress took me to the bedroom and into my bathroom for my shower and shave.

Mistress supervised all of this. Not only did I find her attention acceptable, I welcomed it. In fact, I needed it.

When I had finished shaving, Mistress dusted me all over with scented powder from a new box that said ECC on it. The scent was delightful. Then she made me put on the prettiest pair of pink nylon panties. There was a little extra leg with lots of pink lace ruffles all around.

"Sweetness, these are called rumba panties by some, sissy panties by others. You will wear them all the time from now on."

"Yes, Mistress." We left the bathroom together.

Kathleen and Marin were giggling by the vanity table and I suppose they ad something planned. Also, I figured Akasha must have gone off with Linda; neither of them was anywhere to be seen.

Mistress sat me down and Marin produced a locking collar for my neck, a pair of wrist cuffs and what she said was a posture bar, intended to make me sit up straight at all times. The outside of the collar and cuffs were made of a polished, jewelry-grade stainless steel and lined on the inside with soft, stitched garment leather.

With collar and cuffs locked in place, Kathleen secured one end of the posture bar to the back of my collar and pulled my hands behind me, attaching my wrist cuffs to the other end of the bar. It was immediately clear to me there was no way I would be able to get out of this.

The women were giggling. "Doesn't she look so pretty and so very, very helpless?" Marin chuckled, and they all laughed.

"Not as pretty as she is going to be," Mistress observed with her practiced eye. And then she began to pet my hardness. She gave me just enough to bring my structural beam pointing straight out from the confines of its silky ruffled nylon covering, but then she stopped.

I gave a whimper to express my need for her to continue, but all she did was kiss my cock through its nylon casing and then she kissed me on my cheek."Poor baby," she said. And she looked so concerned for my welfare as she gazed at me and stroked my hair. "Sweetness, today is a very special day and you will receive more than you ever dreamed. Be patient."

"Yes, Mistress."

Kathleen then took great delight in applying a pretty shade of pink nailpolish to my toenails while Marin released my left wrist and sat down next to me to apply the pretty pink polish to my fingernails and then, having secured that wrist and released the other, she sat down on my right side to repeat the process with the rest of my nails.

Mistress looked on approvingly and, periodically, would pet my hard-on.

"Sweetness, you do know that if you brush your nails against anything before they are dry, they will smudge and you will be severely punished. You do understand that, don't you darling?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"She is so precious, but really, she talks too much," said Kathleen, knotting a silk scarf, inserting the large knot in my mouth and tying the scarf around my head.

Mistress and Marin helped me stand up while Kathleen went over to the bed and returned with the most beautiful pink crinoline petticoat, made of multilayered chiffon and lots of sensual ruffles at the hem of each layer. In her other hand she held a short, puffed sleeve pink satin maid's dress with a flattering neckline trimmed with eyelet lace. And on her arm lay a matching satin apron with long strings to allow, I supposed, the perfect bow to be tied.

I could not stand it any longer. Desperate for some relief, even if temporary, I turned and pressed my hard-on against the vanity table.

"No, no, darling," Mistress said. "Only Mistress decides if her poor baby's hard-on receives attention. Kathleen knowingly handed Mistress a soft, black leather blindfold which was secured about me, and then I could not see anything.

"There, there, sweetness," Mistress said. "Mistress knows that looking the pretty feminine clothing and thinking about wearing it for all the ladies has been getting her darling all excited. Now tell me what you can see, dear."

"Nothing, Mistress," I mumbled almost unintelligibly through my silk gag.

"Isn't that just wonderful!" Mistress exclaimed. Her voice sounded like she was really pleased with her handiwork.

Then hands were all over me, sitting me down once again. A garter belt was affixed and I could feel that it was made of nylon and lace. Then my legs were encased in what felt like sheer nylon stockings. Some adjustments here and there as Marin said, "We must be sure the seams are straight for our little maid."

Then more hands about my feet which obviously were being slipped into a pair of high heels. Mistress' familiar touch was again coaxing my cock to full attention.

Many unseen hands helped me up.

And then they left me, or so I thought.

After a minute, Mistress' voice, from the other side of the room, said, "Come to Mistress, sweetness, and you shall have a reward." I began to walk across the room and nearly fell over with my first step.

Even though I could not see them, my heels were higher than I had ever experienced. All the women laughed and it sounded like they were not together, but at different places around the room.

With very small steps I walked carefully toward the sound of Mistress' soothing, coaxing voice. When I reached her she gave me the nicest pets and cradled my head in her soft breasts. "Now, go see Kathleen, sweetness."

Kathleen began talking to her precious, her pet, and somehow I navigated across the room again, to receive my reward. And then to Marin, before the cycle repeated itself. I was going to one beautiful woman after another, unable to see a thing, not knowing for sure what would come next but eagerly anticipating my reward. When I reached Mistress a third time, however, I was totally surprised by a firm whack on my ass with what felt like a wooden paddle.

"Mustn't take beautiful women for granted, sweetness," said Mistress. But then she again cradled my head in her breasts and I was so grateful for the attention and caring she was giving to me.

With Mistress fondling my cock and the other two women helping to guide me I was returned to my seat at the vanity table.

"Now then, darling," Mistress said. If you are ready to control your immaturity, Mistress will remove your gag, your blindfold and your restraints.

"Are you going to be a good little girl, sweetness?"

I nodded. Mistress took off my blindfold and my gag while Kathleen and Marin removed my collar and cuffs.

Then Mistress petted my cock as Kathleen and Marin applied makeup, eyeliner, mascara and lipstick with expertise. In no time it was virtually impossible to recognize the real me.

It was almost as if I was poured into a pretty pink bra, the petticoat, maid's dress and satin apron. And then Marin and Kathleen fitted a cute blonde pageboy wig to my head and helped me to stand up.

I looked at this pretty person in the mirror, who was not me. I did not know what to do, so I curtsied to her. Then I turned and curtsied to the three beautiful Mistresses who had made me what I was. And each of them murmured words of approval, giving cries of delight and each of them kissed me on my cheek.

"Time for you to serve all of us, pet," said Kathleen. And the four of us left the bedroom together, all dressed in our feminine finery.

-=o=-

Service to five Mistresses began conventionally enough.

I call these women Mistresses because that term seems to be best to describe them.

They were, each of them, assertive women. But more than that, they were dominant females. Each of them took it for granted that the male of the species would serve their every need and desire. And for the slightest infraction, even for the slightest perceived infraction, or even for no infraction at all, there were these toys on display with, what appeared to me to be, obvious uses. Punishment.

Kathleen explained to Mistress and Ms. Worthington that the toys were prototypes of the new expanded line of ECC product, and she reviewed several of them displayed on the table. She presented several paddles, a wide-end riding crop, a slapper crop, a flicker whip with what appeared to be an ivory handle, a rattan cane and a strap. Also featured were a number of dildos of various lengths and sizes including one that Kathleen must have especially liked given the way she fondled it and waved it at me while licking her lips. It was a neon orange color. She softly grazed my cheek with it and as I began to think of its intended use, the words "Big Orange" came to mind. The Florida Orange Growers just had no idea...Kathleen said that more delights were in the design stage.

-=o=-

18. Chapter

We returned to the kitchen. One of the other women had made tea. I could hear the kettle whistling in the kitchen as I approached. Linda ordered me to prepare refreshment and nourishment for five. While I was in there laying out the tea service and carefully arranging the little cakes which one of the women apparently brought, I was tempted to have a bite of just one of them.

Mistress Kimberly noticed my temptation and admonished me, "Sweetness, I will not have you eating any of this food. It is just for the ladies and you will have something else to occupy your mouth and your need for calories."

I whimpered.

"Also, I do not want to hear any whining from you. You will do exactly as you are told." And she pinned a button at the right breast of my pretty maid's dress. It was a red circle with a diagonal slash through the word "WHINING". No whining permitted.

I returned to the living room with the tea service and served the refreshments to each of the ladies. They were discussing several business angles and possible marketing tactics relating to the new E-von Cosmetics Corporation product lines and barely paid any attention to me.....Barely.

No-one paid the slightest attention to me as far as including me in their business discussion, but each of them, at random it seemed, required personal service of me. In some cases, I was able to perform my service quite easily. I was allowed to use my hands. In other cases, removing the delicate feminine underclothing was made more difficult by a requirement here and there that I use only my teeth and while in a kneeling position before one or another of my beautiful Mistresses. Before I knew it, cutoffs, slacks, pretty panties, briefs, hip-huggers were scattered all over the living room.

At the end of it all, I was the only one of the six of us who could still consider herself modest. Because I was the ONLY person wearing panties.

I lost track of who was talking. As I was buried in one Mistress' pussy suckling and lapping, performing my service to her, another Mistress would refer to me as 'that panty slut'. Pretty soon references to me as 'Tina' or 'my pretty little girl' were all in the past. I was everyone's panty slut and they all made sure I knew it.

I lapped and licked, and lavished in wonderfully warm, wet, and womanly vaginal secretions. The pleasures of my mouth became the pleasure of my mind. I fell deeper into subspace.

As Akasha, or Kathleen, or Kimberly, or Linda or Marin would arch I knew it was my duty to suckle and be careful to lick up the juices of each so that none would dribble down her leg and possibly reach the carpet.

Mistress Kimberly had told me if that were to happen I would be required to clean that part of the rug with my tongue, and that one or more dommes would administer severe punishment, choosing from the range of new toys available. "After all," she laughed, "we've got to test them if we're going to do a good market analysis."

I had my tongue in more pussy that Saturday than any man could have dreamed of having in a month of Sundays. "Pussy," I thought, "what an inadequate term for the Holies of Holies. Cunt is too vulgar, in fact, blasphemous would be closer to the mark. Vagina is so clinical. There is no word worthy in my mouth for the part of a Mistress that I must worship - that which makes her Woman." Where could one go to find the 'politically correct' term? I wondered if any discussion group or forum existed where this issue might be taken up and, with opinions expressed, might help me become comfortable, and knowledgable, on this issue.

Mistress and Marin were kind to me during my service and stroked my hair as I worshiped them. The other women grabbed me roughly and paddled my ass just for good measure, even if I did not know if I had done anything wrong. In the wonderful haze of subspace, I wanted and needed both treatments. I was totally confused.

My tongue ached and through my pretty ruffled panties a warm red glow spread across my ass. In the front of the pretty ruffled panties, another ache presented itself.

Just when I had begun to think my multiple service to multiple Mistresses developed a pattern, and I could predict who I would be required to re-service next, and how, Kathleen grabbed me, placed me in a most uncomfortable hammer lock and wrestled me to the floor.

All the women jumped me. Linda and Akasha took my arms. Kimberly and Marin pinned my legs. Suddenly there was a pussy staring me in the face, and unseen hands ripped my panties down below my balls and started to play with me. There was only one thing I could do, so I did it. I licked pussy.

I knew what came next, and I could do nothing to forestall the inevitable outcome. I orgasmed. I could feel the flood of very sticky fluid in my groin area, even though I could not see it.

"That's the correct way to treat a panty slut," Kathleen said. And they all laughed.

"Ewyoo, yuck! Sweetness, did Mistress give you permission to come?" asked Kimmie.

"N-n-n no, M-m-m Mistress," I said. I did not know if I felt more terrified at the punishments I imagined I would receive or if I felt more exhausted at the entire ordeal.

"Well, dear. You certainly have made a disgusting mess all around and on your panties. Go to your room, take off all your pretty things and lie on the bed. While you are gone all of us will decide your punishment and, at the appropriate time, you will be summoned."

I got up and dragged myself towards my bedroom.

-=o=-

I lay naked on my bed for close to an hour, recovering from my ordeal.

Linda and Akasha suddenly appeared, fully dressed, and ordered me to follow them into my den to prepare me for the upcoming show. Linda briefed Akasha on what she taught me the previous afternoon, and arranged for her to be part of the act. The act was to be a spoof on the new business venture, and Akasha laughed heartily as Linda outlined the skit to her. We spent about 15 minutes rehearsing while the other women discussed business and fashion in the living room.

Finally, Linda stuck her head around the corner and asked, "Are we ready?"I could hear Kim reply, "Yes."

Linda gathered her props and led the three of us into the living room. The two women had me stand between them, and then kneel on the cold, hard flagstones in front of the fireplace facing my audience. Linda acted as the Mistress of Ceremonies. "Good afternoon, ladies. Welcome to a demonstration of E-von's newest product line. A product not so much designed to make a woman look better but to make her feel better about herself."

"The modern woman in the world today faces numerous obstacles caused by male dominance in the workplace and in society in general. Not the least of these problems is the feeling of insecurity and inferiority that the constant propaganda put out by these chauvinists tries to produce."

"Our product is designed to instill the feeling of self-confidence and power a woman needs to fight the dark side of this force."

"If you're an office worker, you probably notice how much less work men do and how much more prestige they wield. Maybe you have an overbearing boss. Are you tired of having to dress pretty for the men in clothes that not only cost more than men's clothes, but cost more to keep up, and don't last as long? Using this product line in conjunction with a fantasy directed against your boss or an obnoxious coworker may not change the balance of power at the office overnight but it can give you the feeling of control you need to start it in the proper direction."

"Perhaps you're a teacher. Then you know how boys get preferential treatment over girls. They get the honors classes in science and math. The boys' sports teams get better funding, better equipment, better press, and better support than girls' teams. This product can help you role-play the part of one of your students as she comes out on top of a boy for a change. At least you'll know that there is hope for her future and be able to share that experience with your female students."

"If you're a nurse, and you've had a tough day, with demanding patients and arrogant doctors, what more can you ask than to have your tired feet taken care of in every way by a professional foot care specialist every night?"

"This E-von product can do it all. Introducing, the sissy submissive -- a multiple use toy to satisfy every woman's needs."

"Not every woman is lucky enough to have a submissive of her own, and not all women are trained to handle one. E-von can change all that. For a nominal fee, we can provide both fully-programmed sissies, and dominance training for the women who use them."

"Do you have your own male? We can train him too. Training can be accomplished at our classroom facilities, or we can do training on-site for groups. E-von can develop a plan to meet your needs."

"Before we go on, do I have any questions?"

Marin raised her hand, "How much does this service cost?"

"The going rate is set by a number of factors. For example, are you renting or buying? Also, a lease-to-own program is under development. Financing is available, and E-von honors all major credit cards."

"But let's evaluate this model. It's a single-owner, 1956 male with high mileage. However, it runs good, and the body isn't in bad shape. As we'll see later, it handles really well, and the optional equipment is fully functional."

"Let's go over some of the features."

First, penis size," Linda gave me a sideways glance and sneered, "OK, so he'll never win 'best of show there', but look how cute it is -- fully circumcised, and it can go from flaccid to fully-erect in under 30 seconds."

"Second, overall physique -- the model's owner is a little-old lady (OK, she's petite, but not so old) who only jogs him around the neighborhood several times a week." Linda turned to me and said, "Keep it up!" as she smiled at her own pun.

"Third, ability to ejaculate. Generally, the newer models -- teenaged boys and young men perform well in this category. However, they just don't have it down the stretch where it counts. You'll get a lot of mileage out of this model, and it's been fully road tested under a variety of conditions to our standards of satisfaction."

"Finally, we evaluate handling. How responsive is he to your control? With less than a week's worth of disciplining, we have trained this male to perform all the basic tasks. It's a joy to have this toy at your fingertips."

"Do I have any more questions?" There weren't any.

"Good, then let's get to the demonstration." Akasha read the script as Linda put me through my paces.

"The joy of owning a submissive sissy is rewarding in itself, but many women will enjoy showing off their new possession. This could be both fun and profitable for the women as we can organize parties where women can place orders in the comfort of their own home. I think we can benchmark the Tupperware model here. Displays such as these will be necessary for us to market our product since many of the traditional advertising channels are not available to us. Many women will most likely get their first impressions of our services and products through demonstrations put on for them by their friends."

"Tommy is ready for public display, so let the show begin!" Akasha addressed her boss, "E-von's going to develop a stable of boys as demonstrator models and to rent. We can rate the boys on their performance. A well trained boy can bring a good hourly rate or an even better price when sold. Either will make us rich and happy. I can tell you, I'm anticipating some good commissions from this product line."

Linda turned to me and admonished, "You hear that? Be good! I don't want you to turn out to be a 'cheap come'. I'm capable of putting out four star-male submissives. Don't make me look bad."

I certainly wanted this crowd to be impressed by my four star rating.

Akasha continued her narration, "Many women don't have the skills to get the most use out of their boys. Indeed, they need their eyes opened to the possibilities. Sit back and watch Linda have Tommy perform".

Linda assumed her position on the opposite side of the room with her legs slightly spread apart, and her hands on her hips. I lowered my eyes to the floor at her feet, not daring to make eye contact. Linda said not a word. In my peripheral vision I could see her gesture with an upward movement of her palm. This was her signal to me to "stiffen up".

Prior to my training with Linda and Kim, I didn't have any control over my penis. I was totally undisciplined. Erections would come and go randomly. When I would get an erection, I'd play with it until I ejaculated. However, the training Linda gave me yesterday enabled me to have an erection anytime at her command.

During the training session, Linda started with physical stimulation of my penis, and interrupted the procedure at strategic stages. Eventually she didn't even have to touch my penis at all for me to attain a hard-on to her satisfaction.

With the proper concentration on my penis, I was able bring it from a totally "rested" state to a full hard-on in about 30 seconds. Using the techniques I learned from Linda, I could "bounce" my penis up and down and make the head pulsate by contracting the muscles at the base of my scrotum. Linda laughed at me and said that she just loved the way I could make my "pee-pee" dance. After several minutes of this exercise, my penis was excited enough to produce a drop of precome.

Linda expected me to continue this procedure for as long as she demanded. During the training session, she had my penis drooling a nearly steady stream of precome for almost a quarter of an hour. On this occasion, however, she gave me the "stop" signal after I had produced enough of the clear viscous liquid to make a small pool on the floor. I knew that I was still expected to maintain a hard-on, but I was allowed to give my nearly cramped muscles a break.

-=o=-

19. Chapter

Akasha explained what was happening, "Stiffening up is expected of a man prior to any activity with a woman. It's the responsibility of the male to have a hard-on for the female anytime she is ready to play with him. No woman should have to work for one. Once you have him primed, he is ready to do (or have done to him) anything you desire."

Akasha described the purpose of the exercise to her audience. "Stiffen up exercises teach men discipline. Having an erection does not mean that they get to ejaculate. Orgasms are to be earned, and given only at the discretion of the woman. Under a woman's direct supervision, typically it was difficult for a man to bring himself to the point of heightened self-arousal. Before E-von training, that is. And, without her intervention, he wouldn't be able to resist masturbating himself to orgasm. With her training, a man can reach a much more enjoyable stage of erection and then, only if she wills it, ejaculation."

She sure had that right! Up until last week, I used to "whack down" the erections I got before they became too troublesome. Now, I was learning to control and enjoy them. Getting one and not being able to relieve it was still frustrating. However, knowing that I was making myself hard at the command of a woman was rewarding in its own way. Whenever Linda and Mistress Kimmie did let me come, well, I can't recall having ejaculations this satisfying even when I was a teenager.

Repeated practice of this basic discipline exercise further impressed on me the role I was to serve. I was Linda's servant, and my penis a toy with with which she could play. My erections were for her pleasure, and my ejaculations given only at her command when she thought I deserved them. Right now, however, I was commanded to show the other ways which I was trained to serve my Mistress.

Akasha continued, "Please observe as Ms. Worthington puts her sissy submissive through his paces."

Linda snapped her fingers and pointed to the ground at her feet. I hastened in front of her, got down on both knees, bent my head to the ground, and kissed the indicated foot.

Once she had me in that position, she slapped her hip twice with her palm. My tongue went into action starting at her ankle just above her sneaker, and licking up her leg as far as her amply short cutoffs. She didn't give the 'stop' signal until I had worked all of the way up one leg and down the other.

Next, she made a fist with thumb extended and gave two quick "thumbs up" signals. I came to a full kneeling attention, wrapped my hand around my cock and started to jerk off. I nodded twice when I felt myself ready to come and she gave the 'cut' signal ordering me to stop. I was fully aware that she was putting me on exhibition much like trainer would work her dog at a show.

Linda walked back across the room to the flagstones, snapped her fingers, and pointed. I knew what she meant. I crawled across the floor on my hands and knees, lowered my head and kissed the spot where my pool of precome had been left at the beginning of the demonstration. My ass was up in the air and in complete view of all the women. I was vulnerable and exposed.

CLACK! The paint stirrer made contact with my ass. I counted out. "One, thank you." CLACK! "Two, thank you." ... and so on, licking the stones between each spank. The paint stirrer was an almost massless piece of wood. It was narrow and flat, and unlike the sneaker Linda used to spank me with on a previous occasion, it didn't give on impact. It also couldn't "penetrate" like the sneaker did. All of the pain was concentrated on the surface. It produced a really sharp sting, and left my skin feeling like it was on fire.

Linda had a good wrist action (I all of a sudden remembered the "paint the fence" scene from the "Karate Kid"). Linda had hours of practice developing those wrists of hers. She laid into me with rapid strokes flicking at me in a pattern that walked back and forth across my cheeks. By the time she was done I had counted to 100. That's an awfully high number for a normal spanking, but when you are getting spanked a square inch at a time, it is quite reasonable.

The muscle under my ass was still in great shape, there was no soreness there. However, I did feel like I backed into a hot plate. There were "oohs" and "aahs" from the audience during the spanking. Marin gasped at one point, "Look how red he's getting!" When I finally did get a look at my ass, it looked quite rosy indeed. Yet, the next day, I had nary a mark. Linda was good at what she did.

With the spanking over, Linda gave me the signal to lay on my back. She removed her cutoffs and panties and slapped my face which was the order to eat her out. I could feel her legs against the sides of my head as she worked her pussy across my face to my mouth. I found her clitoris and started to suck on it and flick it with my tongue as she had previously instructed me.

I could feel her shudder above me. I could tell by the flush of fresh juices that she was letting herself go. All of a sudden, things got a lot wetter, and the taste of her fluids changed to urine. She had caught me off guard. I was flicking with my tongue when I should have been sucking. I managed to recover and drink most of her pee, but she still left a good stream of her piss on my face. I hoped that I didn't lose too many "points" for my misjudgment, and that Linda wouldn't be angry with me. After riding me for a couple of more minutes, she stood up and gave me two "thumbs up" which was my signal to stand.

My performance was over except for one more deed. I had to recite something Linda said she learned from a woman named Susan a long time ago. It's called "My Mistress's 10 commandments":

1. I am male. I am inferior to female.

2. I am a slave to my penis. My penis belongs to my Mistress. My Mistress controls my penis. She controls me.

3. I renounce the sexual bondage imposed by my malehood. My highest hope is to imitate the superiority of the female gender. I put total faith in my Mistress to teach me to be feminine.

4. My Mistress is my sole source of sexual pleasure. I must serve her and all those females she asks me to serve.

5. I lack the discipline attain orgasm by myself. Only under the discipline of my Mistress will I know true pleasure.

6. I exist only to provide pleasure for my Mistress. I can expect no wants of my own to be fulfilled except at her desire.

7. My Mistress' body is sacred, only at her bidding will I touch it and then only with my tongue unless she permits otherwise. My body is hers to do with as she pleases.

8. I have no secrets. As I stand naked before my Mistress in body, I must also stand naked before her in mind. I must confess to her my deepest fantasies.

9. There is no thought I can think unless it be to honor my Mistress. There is no word I can speak unless it be to praise her. There is no action I can take unless it be to please her.

10. I am not female. I must worship all those who are.

Linda then bowed, and the silence was broken. There was light applause from the audience.

Kathleen was impressed. She said, "I know you did this skit sort of tongue- a couple of other places as well), but it was well done. Believe it or not, there's a lot we can use here. You organized the demonstration very well, and you've picked up some good techniques. It's obvious that you and Kim have done a good job training Tommy boy."

"I think this product line has potential. Of course, it's not for the general market, but I think we could target sales based on our catalog orders. We can target the women who order our rubber and leather collections first."

Kathleen gave Linda a hug, then turned to Mistress Kimmie and hugged her also. With a few lingering touches that by now were not lost on me.

Then Kathleen instructed me to gather up all the product demonstration materials and to pack them in their cases.

The five women began to discuss plans for the following week's live launch of the new E-von line and, while that was going on I sorted, prepared and boxed the bondage and S/M toys.

Kathleen suggested that the five of them head out for cocktails and enjoy a general debrief and planning discussion, but Linda and Mistress declined, saying that there was a need to discuss important matters with me.

"Pet," Kathleen said to me, "By rights we should have you carry these cases to the car but in your present state of undress this time we will allow you to stay in the house."

All the women hugged and said their goodbyes and Kathleen, Akasha and Marin left.

Linda and Mistress took me to my bedroom and dressed me once again in my pretty maid's outfit, complete with a fresh pair of panties.

-=o=-

20. Chapter

We returned to the living room. It was as we had left it: sandwich tray still on the end table holding unconsumed dainties; pitcher of iced tea still on its own stand. I looked in horror at a crushed napkin that had been dropped on the floor. I must have missed it earlier on my clean up, and I was afraid I'd be punished for it. Apparently Linda and Kim didn't notice.

"Sit down," Linda said in a very friendly tone. "We've had a busy couple of days."

I looked at her. I picked up the corners of my skirt and lowered myself in ladylike fashion into a seat. I smoothed out the wrinkles on my lap, and held my knees together. As Kim had suggested, I moved the knees off to one side. That made it a little easier to hold the position. I folded my hands on my lap.

Linda complimented me, "You look very pretty, Tina." I was confused and shocked at her acceptance of me as a woman. She laughed, "It's OK, Tina. As long as Kimmie is here to control you, you can wear whatever she decides. Kim and I have an understanding that way. She lets me do my thing, and I let her do hers.

She offered me some iced tea, "Something to drink?"

"Why yes, Ms. Worthington, thank you very much." I said.

"Until I tell you otherwise, you can call me, Linda." she said offering me the sandwich tray.

"And you can call me Kim," Mistress advised.

I wasn't used to such kindness from these two. It seemed sacreligious to have women serving me! "Tom," Linda continued, "we're all friends here. This is a 'time out' discussion. It's time to let down our hair."

She did this literally as she took off her baseball cap and shook out her hair. I looked at her and realized that she could be every bit as beautiful as Kim, but in a different sort of way. Kim was feminine and delicate. Linda was feminine and healthy. Her body had a subtle muscle tone to it that belied her more physically active lifestyle.

"Do you have any questions?" she asked.

"Wh-what do you mean?" was my question in reply.

"About how Kimmie and I have been treating you over the last couple of days. Don't you like it?"

"Why, yes Ms... I mean Linda."

"You can speak freely with us now, Tom. We're looking for the truth here. We want to make sure your training is correct. We can't do that unless you tell us what works and what doesn't. We need to be absolutely sure what turns you on most, what you find distasteful, and what you simply are incapable of doing. We need to know so we can make any needed adjustments to your training. Watching that penis of yours bob up and down is a good indicator, but it's sort of hit and miss. Now tell us what you like."

I felt the sweat trickling down my back. I never told Margo my fantasies. Sex was something men bragged about to other men, and didn't talk about with women at all. How could I be intimate with these girls? However, after the high-intensity domination I had received the last couple of days, this warm, comfortable, and quite frankly -- feminine -- atmosphere made me want to confess all.

I didn't feel like a middle aged man sitting in a room with two young women. I felt like a woman with other women. I always wondered how women could open up to one another and talk about intimate feelings. Now that I was "one of the girls" I began to understand.

"Well," I began tentatively, "I like when Mistress Kimmie dresses me up."

Kimmie giggled, "And what do you like about it, sweetness?"

"I don't know." The words were coming more freely now that I got started. "Part of it is the physical sensation. The silkiness and smoothness of the material feels so good against my naked skin. And I feel so cared for when you accept me like that."

"Thank you, by the way, for making me remove my hair. I never felt so close to my body. I don't think men appreciate sensuality the way women do. Oh sure, we're very sexual, but only in an intense short-term sort of way. Everything is centered on one organ and on one activity -- having an orgasm. Men don't know how to appreciate the rest of their bodies. They simply don't notice all the nice sensations that happen along the way to climax."

"When I slip into a pair of hose, and pull them up, I caress my legs and it feels good. Lacy and frilly panties not only feel good on my penis, balls and ass; they look good. It pleases me to see myself in panties, bras, and other delicately designed things. And the smell ... perfume. I always thought that women wore perfume to attract men. If you look at the commercials, on TV that's what you are led to believe. I like to wear it for myself."

"And makeup!" I was getting excited in some other way than sexual for a change, "Makeup is so intimate. You apply it directly to your body. It really is like becoming another person. I know primitive tribes wear 'war paint' to go into battle or to celebrate certain events. Makeup is the modern equivalent. It's our way to celebrate womanhood."

Kimmie was beaming at me. I looked into her eyes and blushed. I knew I was pleasing her and it made me feel so good.

I felt so good that the words poured from me confidently. "There's more to it than just looking good and feeling good. I don't know how to put this ... I LIKE being a girl! It's an entirely different world."

"I've never realized what it's like for women. The maid training taught me that I've been very lazy and selfish around the house. I haven't been doing my share of the work. I promise that I'm going to change that. I'm not only going to do my share. I'll do Margo's share as well. She has much more important things to do."

"I didn't even know how much trouble Margo goes through to look nice for me. I think I can appreciate it a lot more now. It isn't easy being a woman, but it's worth it. I've never had these feelings as a man -- Hell, men aren't even supposed to have feelings. It's such an empty existence."

I turned to Kim and for the first time looked her directly in the eye. It wasn't Tom talking, it was Tina. "Thank you Kim for showing me this. Thank you for letting me get in touch with a part of me that I didn't know existed, a part that I was repressing, in short, the best part of me."

I was still somewhat confused about Kim's expectations for me. I figured that while I was in my confessional, I might as well let it all out.

"Kim, were you serious the other day when you told me that you wanted all men to go away? That you really thought that the only purpose of man is to serve woman?"

"Oh no, sweetness," she giggled, "Whatever gave you a silly idea like that? That was just a game. Nobody believes that. What I believe is that some men and women are special. Some men are special because they know that they can serve special women. Linda and I are special women. Right, sis?"

Called upon, Linda answered, "You got that right, Kimmie. Not every man has what it takes to be submissive. You should be proud of yourself. Kimmie and I put you through a lot this week. Weaker men would have broken or rebelled. You knew what was good for you and you caught on real fast. You dropped that macho image well before we had to do something drastic."

I briefly pondered what she would consider "drastic" as she continued, "You were pliant to our needs. You were so trainable. I like boys that can be trained. With some boys it takes a lot more work, and some boys never get it. They're the real losers. Kim and I won't have anything to do with them." She sighed, "Their loss!"

"Which brings us to us -- Kim and I. Not every woman is cut out to be a dominatrix. It takes a special talent, and a lot of work. I can tell you, it's tough working out a lesson plan for a male. Some require strict discipline, others just require that you show them their true selves."

"I enjoy being treated like a goddess. But even goddesses have needs. A goddess needs to be worshiped. It works both ways -- we special women need special men to submit to us, and the men need the domination we provide. It's the only way we can both be happy."

"Oh, maybe someday we'll realize Kim's fantasy where every male is submissive before any female, but I'm not holding my breath. It won't happen in my lifetime, and it probably will never happen. I'm only going to save the part of the world I can. I'm going to look for men who show submissive signs and women who can be trained to take their rightful place in a relationship."

I had to ask, "How can you tell if a man is submissive?"

"Any man who can't control his dick is a potential submissive. When I caught you looking at me that first day, I thought, 'This is someone who needs discipline.' Once I caught you sniffing my sneaker, I knew you could be controlled. Female domination isn't all that difficult. All a woman has to do is find the right tool for establishing her dominance over a man."

"How do you know what these tools are?" I asked. Kim laughed, pursed her lips, kissed the air coupled with one of her so-seductive looks at me, and picked up the conversation. "Boys are easy to dominate. Just look at their penis. When it gets hard, you're doing something that excites them. You can use that to control them. Like, when I saw you that first day in the bathroom and I pointed out Linda's undies, you got a hard-on. I sort of figured girl's underwear got you going, but I wasn't sure until we tried some really good stuff on you."

"Once I put my panties on you, you were willing to do anything for me. Once I saw you in panties, I knew I could control you. You were diminished, and I was made stronger." I blushed. I was true. I fell into a trap, and it was one I helped to create."Kimmie's idea of putting a boy in his place is to put him in her panties. In a lot of cases, such as yours, it works." Linda admitted.

"Yes, Ms. Wor ... I mean, Linda, but I liked what you did to me too."

"And I really enjoyed doing it." she grinned.

"It was really weird for me," I confessed, "I don't know why but being naked and bound before you and made to do humiliating things really turned me on. I felt torn between not wanting to do it, and really wanting to do it."

"I planned that deliberately. I just gave you what you wanted, although in a way you could never do for yourself. You need disciplining, and you want sex. I gave you both. Now you can't tell the difference. Don't fight it. Just enjoy it."

"Margo and I have sex, but I just don't get the kind of satisfaction you give me."

"That's because, you are only using half your sexuality." Linda countered. "Your conflicting feelings are just the man and the woman inside you fighting. Let them be at peace with one another. Now you do know your place, don't you?"

I bowed my head and mumbled, "yes."

"As you can see from Kimmie and Kathleen, woman love is special. It's not like sex between a 'traditional' male and a 'traditional' woman. It's better, it's more fulfilling. You have to become more like a woman to appreciate it."

"Oh, Linda, I know. I wouldn't believe you if you told me this a week ago. I thought women liked this macho stuff. I know now that I'm wrong, but what can I do? Margo married me for my manly ways."

"Don't be so sure," Linda responded.

-=o=-

21. Chapter

"What!" I said with a defensiveness that would have undoubtedly earn me a severe punishment if it weren't for our 'time out.'

Linda giggled, "I know a lot more about you and Margo than you think. Margo was over visiting my mom about a week before she left. They were talking in the sewing room where mom was making a dress -- for my dad." She paused to giggle. "What Margo didn't know is that the heat vent in the sewing room conducts noise very well into my room. Your wife was pouring her heart out to my mom."

"I heard her say, 'Eden, how do you and Bob do it? Together all these years and still there's obvious sexual attraction there. Bob seems so polite and attentive. Tom is such an oaf. I mean, I like his rugged manliness at times, but he just ... Well, there's no spark in bed. He comes to bed, does a little kissing, hops on, gets it off, and gets off. I'm left totally unsatisfied.'"

"My mom asked the right question. 'How often does he have sex?'"

"Margo laughed, 'Funny you should put it that way. WE have sex several times a week. He has sex nearly every day. I've caught him masturbating more than once. He gets into that girlie magazine collection of his and beats off sometimes a couple of times a day. You'd think he'd learn to flush after leaving his come in the toilet.'"

"'How do you feel about that?' mom asked"

"'I feel a little taken for granted. I do the best I can with sex, and he still has to go elsewhere for satisfaction. What's worse, the bedroom's not the only place he ignores my needs. Just once, I'd like to get some help around the house. It's like he came straight to me from his mom. He lives in a fantasy word where beds make themselves, carpets get vacuumed automatically, meals appear miraculously whenever he's hungry, and I'm supposed to feel like hopping in the sack after doing all this.'"

I was feeling very uncomfortable listening to all this. Not only because it's what Margo really thought of me, but also because it was true, and I never knew I was doing it. I just expected that Margo was supposed to do all these things. She was right, I was an oaf.

Linda looked at me and said, "Do you want me to go on?" Normally, the macho me couldn't stand all this berating by women, however, in the past week these two girls taught me humility. In this humility I found the strength to say, "yes."

"Margo was really upset. It sounded like she was crying. My mom tried to make her feel better. She was successful, then Margo really opened up. My mom asked some very intimate questions about your relationship and love making. The responses were not very flattering. Mr. Greer, you are not giving your wife what she wants and deserves."

I didn't want to believe my ears. Linda was right, of course, the events of the last week certainly opened my eyes to that. But how did an 18-year-old get to be so smart?

"What do I do?" I asked.

Linda laughed, "That's what she said. Your wife, that is. She asked my mom what to do and mom said, 'You have to take charge.' 'How do I do that?" Margo asked. 'Can you trust me?" my mom responded."

Linda paused, raised her arms in a "stick 'em up" pose, palms up, circled her hands, and looked up as if she was indicating that the gesture was to embrace the newly painted room. "All this was all a set-up."

Linda dropped her arms and fixed her gaze on me. "You've been had. One of the things Margo told my mom was how you look at younger women whenever the two of you go out. That was a weakness we could exploit. My dad didn't have the flu at all. It was all a ploy to get me into the house to assess the situation. The way you looked at me that first day confirmed your wife's report. I was worried when nothing happened immediately on the second day. I was afraid I'd either have to escalate my plans or back out and let dad finish a routine painting job. Then I caught you sniffing at my sneaker; that blew the door wide open!"

"I called Kim while you were still in the bathroom, and told her we had 'a live one.' Kim and I started there and then on how we were going to train you."

"Congratulations, you have passed what could be considered the kindergarten of your new life style. You have a lot more to learn, but you're off to a good start."

"However, you are going to have to learn more. There are some things you are going to have to change right now."

"First, you are going to have to learn to be smarter with your money. Instead of paying $50 a seat to sit in a gym and watch a bunch of tall millionaires dressed in shorts and undershirts run back and forth doing something called 'dribbling,' you could be spending money on Margo. That $50 could go a long way towards a romantic dinner and an evening of dancing."

"Margo says that you spend a lot of time swatting at and swearing at a little dimpled ball. You will use your time more productively from now on. You'll need some new hobbies, some with tangible outcomes."

Linda leafed through some women's magazines. "All you need is right here. You admitted that you are beginning to understand how much trouble Margo goes through to look good for you. I'll bet she spends a fortune at the hairdressers. Look at this hairstyle magazine. If you could learn to style Margo's hair, you could take the money she spends, combine it with the greens fees you won't be spending, and use it for more productive things, like your next hobby."

Linda fanned out the magazines and read off some of the titles as she suggested new hobbies for me. "Better Homes and Gardens has a number of special books on decorating. That den of yours is the pits, it needs a woman's touch. Here, look at this, you can redecorate the kitchen and bathrooms. Now that you have the rest of the house painted, they'll need attention too. I think a country motif would work well, but that's something for Margo to decide."

"Here we go, something you can do on those winter evenings. You can do country crafts or quilting. Ooh, look at this, 'Holiday Cooking' -- There are so many new skills you can learn."

"But most of all, you have to condition yourself to think of Margo first. Before you do anything, ask yourself, 'Will this please Margo?' if the answer isn't yes, you should think of doing something else."

I heard a car pulling up in the driveway. Maybe the E-von women had returned. I was getting apprehensive. I couldn't take any more embarrassment. Linda touched the tip of her index finger to the top of my lip to indicate that I should keep silent. "Don't worry, she assured me. Nothing bad is going to happen to you."

I trusted her. I relaxed.

Linda continued, "Of course, you are only one half of the team. Margo is going to have to learn how to dominate. My mom assures me that she is a promising student."

Suddenly, I understood.

The door opened. There stood Eden Worthington and Margo. They had Margo's bags in their hands. Apparently Eden had picked up Margo at the airport.

Margo looked exactly the same as when she left, however she looked over the scene with an air of confidence. She had expected this. Her knowing gaze changed everything. Margo never excited me this much before. I knew I loved her more deeply than ever and that our relationship was changed forever. I rose, curtsied, and said, "Welcome home, Mistress Margo."

End

-=o=-

Some closing words from the authors

Co-authors, The Mule <an265429@anon.penet.fi> and Farnorth <farnorth@anchorage.ak.net> love to receive email with your comments, pro or con, about their stories. Requoting from the start of this saga, the Forward, posted May 31, 1995: "Acknowledgments "The authors want to thank the following individuals for their contributions to this story: "Tim (an135878@anon.penet.fi) for relating an experience he had that generated the basic idea for the story. "Steve (an169860@anon.penet.fi) for reviewing the first draft of day one with Linda and suggesting several story changes that really took off. "The women of alt.sex.femdom, some of whom may recognize their names in this story. The characters in the story are totally fictitious and have absolutely no connection with real world people. However, Farnorth and Mule would like to honor all the sources of our inspiration. Consider the imitation an attempt at flattery." The authors lifted the names of well-known contributors to the a.s.fd dialogue: akasha, Ms. Margo, Marin and Bob & Eden. We pulled the other names from the femdom-l list formerly maintained by juu. To whom thanks is due also; else, would we have an alt.sex.femdom?